#i compare his desires to dark chocolate

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

The Agony of Desire

Part 10 // Masterlist

Warnings: Smut (18+), mild CNC (consensual non-consent), bondage, mean Billy, choking, spitting, rough oral sex (m receiving), oral sex (f receiving), pseudo- public sex (there's no one around but it's technically a public space), boat sex, shower sex, come play, public nudity (again, no one around), Captain kink 😌

A/N: I based this boat on the Sunreef 80, a beautiful luxury catamaran and there are virtual tours on their online website that I enjoyed looking through while researching for this chapter. Enjoy!

For @idaofinfinity

~

Absence is to love what wind is to fire; it extinguishes the small, it inflames the great.

- Roger de Bussy-Rabutin

~

"Yes, oh god, yes. Please, Billy, soo good."

He hums in acknowledgement.

You groan even more as his hands move from kneading your shoulders to slipping into your hair to massage your scalp.

"Oh fuck that's amazing." You gasp.

You can't see his grin.

"You don't moan like this when I'm inside you, that hurts my feelings, baby."

Your eyes peek open to look out at the ocean from the comfort of his boat, a luxury catamaran this time, made for easy cruising and stability.

"It doesn't feel this good when you're inside me." You lie.

You hear his angry huff.

"You're going to pay for that comment. I hope your little cunt can handle it."

"Oooh, I'm quaking in my imaginary boots, Russo. As if you have the balls to-" your words are cut off by his hand, dropping down to cover your mouth. You wriggle in response which only makes his grip that much tighter.

His laughter is downright sinister.

"Oh I have been waiting for an excuse to punish you." You jerk when you feel his other hand reach around to pinch your nipple through your bikini top almost painfully. You squeak behind his palm.

"I figured I wouldn't have to wait long for you to say something to piss me off."

You try to shake his hand from your mouth, reaching up to pry his hand away but you squeal again when the front of your swimsuit falls free. He finally pulls his hands away to use the strings of your bikini top to tie your hands securely behind your back.

"What the fuck?" You ask, trying to figure out how you just went from getting a nice shoulder massage to being topless on his boat. Being exposed to the air, out in what feels like a public area makes you so aroused, to have the sunlight dancing on your naked skin through the windows of the main deck salon.

You pretend not to enjoy the way he roughly gropes you, squeezing your skin under his palms, flicking gently at your nipples.

You gasp when you feel his hands reach for your bottoms, and you shoot up, arms still fixed behind you as you back away from him, moving toward the helm.

He gets to his feet, grinning.

"Where're you going? You're trapped here all alone with me, baby. Nowhere to run."

God, why did his dark side have to be so hot?

"Fuck you, Russo." You spit at him.

He chews on his bottom lip for a second before taking a step toward you.

You squeal, turning away, trying to navigate to the front of the cabin, knowing that Billy loved to chase.

Like Santorini, all over again.

His hands grab your hips, and you gasp in surprise when he pushes you to one of the soft couches.

You wriggle, gasping when his tongue slips over your ribs, laves over your nipple and then trails all the way up to your cheek.

He laughs at your faux disgusted expression.

"Don't pretend you don't like it, baby." His voice tickles your ear, "I know how much you love to feel like my filthy little girl."

You whimper in protest, your clit throbbing and aching in objection of your actions.

His tongue licks over your lips next, and you can't help the little moan you make.

He smiles, and your cover it up by wriggling in his arms.

"Untie me, Billy." You protest weakly.

His eyes widen, as if he's coming to the realisation that you don't want this.

"Oh, of course!" He says, reaching down to tug the knots on either side of your bikini bottoms loose.

"Not- no-" You scooch away from him, but he holds firm to the bottoms, tugging them free from your skin.

He grins up at you, raising his hand with the fisted material and chucking it towards the back of the boat, to be blown off into the ocean.

Your mouth drops open.

You're now stark naked, in broad daylight. The thought that anyone could pass by on another boat and maybe see you absolutely nude, makes you squeeze your thighs together. The knowledge that Billy, who would never let another person look at you in such a state of undress, reclines comfortably in his seat, makes you even wetter. He wears his confidence beautifully, like a second skin, and he silently dares you to say a word.

And you, who loves seeing that fire, spark in his eyes, you open your mouth to speak.

"Is that it?" You ask, tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip, tugging at your restraints, "Is that all you've got, Lieutenant? Some fancy knotwork and empty threats?"

His jaw tics.

"Boring." You sing, completely ignoring your state of undress, walking around as if you mean to be this way.

"That's not my title right now."

"What?" You ask, turning to him.

"Lieutenant, that's not my title right now."

You tilt your head in confusion.

He smiles gently.

"What do you call someone commanding a ship?" He asks slowly, rising to his feet.

You clench when the answer comes to mind almost immediately.

"I am not calling you Captain." You emphasise.

The smile is slow to rise on his face, he approaches you with calm movements and though you try to back away, you end up cornered, naked back pressed to one of the walls of the salon.

His hand drifts into your hair, gripping it hard and you make a small sound of discomfort, looking up at him. A shiver moving from where his hand grips your hair, right down to your aching clit.

"You're not going to have much of a choice." He whispers against your lips before he's kissing you.

You respond eagerly, pressing your body against his, tilting your head whichever way he pleases to let his mouth devour yours. He makes it sloppy on purpose, shoving his tongue deep into your mouth, licking over your teeth, and the roof of your mouth, no doubt making your lips red and kiss-swollen in the process.

His other hand slips down between your thighs, a single finger prodding between your legs.

He groans when he feels how wet you are.

"Such a desperate little thing, hmm? Needy for her Captain?" He asks, kissing your neck.

You suck in a slow breath before responding.

"You said it yourself, Captains command ships, this is hardly a ship, and you're not my Captain."

"It counts." He argues softly into your neck.

"Not to me, Billy. You're just my needy ex-boyfriend."

He stops. Raising his head to look into your eyes.

There it is. That spark of anger, ripping into him and burning him from the inside.

He places his hand on your throat, thumb running along the edge of your jaw. You gulp, looking into his eyes, knowing exactly what was coming.

When his grip tightens on your neck, you can't help pressing your thighs painfully together. Your head bumps the wall and you let out a small sound of pure arousal.

"Ex?" He asks slowly, as if he doesn't have you pinned at his mercy.

"Baby," he says softly, "I came inside you three times yesterday. Once on that dining table, once in my bed, and once in the bath. Exes don't do that. Boyfriends do."

You try to speak, but you can only let out a strangled grunt.

His grip loosens, and you take in a breath.

"Coming inside me, doesn't make you my boyfriend, just like driving a boat doesn't make you a Captain." You whisper hoarsely.

He smiles in amusement, leaning in to kiss you softly, his hands reach down behind you, kneading the globes of your ass in his hands, you sigh in pleasure at the feel of his rough grip. He moves to kiss your neck, his fingers just grazing the crease of your ass, making you suddenly crave the dirtiest of touches.

"So then," he says suddenly, gripping your upper arm and pulling you along.

You follow helplessly, still unable to free your arms from their bindings.

"What's it gonna take to make me your boyfriend, hmm? How many times do I have to come inside you- on you, before you're mine?"

He tugs you onto the bow, with wooden slats beneath your bare feet. The wind races over your body, spraying you with the gentle sea air. Your nipples stiffen permanently, cold in the wind and the waves, even though the sun warms you.

"Well?" He prompts, a hand on your shoulder, pushing you to your knees.

It takes you a moment to remember the question.

What's it going to take to make me your boyfriend?

God, the way he wanted you after all this time makes you dizzy with affection. You barely remember how you formulate words.

"Well- you- you have to ask."

He blinks down at you.

"Ask?"

You bite down on your bottom lip, nodding your head.

He bends, gripping your jaw in his hand, digging his fingers into your cheeks until your mouth parts for him. He presses his fingers into your bottom row of teeth to pry your mouth open.

He lines his mouth up with yours, and you know what's coming next, closing your eyes, and extending your tongue.

His spit is slightly chilled when it hits your tongue, only enough to recognise that it's not yours.

You close your mouth, opening your eyes to look up at him. He watches you swallow his spit and he gives a smile of satisfaction. His thumb brushes gently over your lips.

"Baby," he says slowly, drawing out the word, "Can I be your boyfriend?"

You blink, giving him a little smile behind his thumb, before nodding.

His smile is dazzling in response, your heart hammers in your chest.

He says your name on a breath, dropping to his knees to kiss you passionately. You sigh into his mouth, delighted and aching, almost certain that your arousal has coated your thighs by now.

His hands reach behind, to pull the bindings off your wrists, you moan, relief washing over you, as your arms are freed. You rub your wrists, your mouth still pressed to his. His hands also reach to rub at your arms, easing the soreness with a couple of generous squeezes.

Your hand sinks into his hair to keep his head in place while the other slips between your thighs to give your aching clit some relief. But you barely graze your swollen bud before his hand wraps around your wrist.

"Please," you gasp into his mouth, "Please, please, please, I need it so bad."

"Poor baby," he coos, pulling your hand away from your thighs and up to his mouth to suck the wetness from your fingers.

"If you don't behave, I'll tie your hands back together."

You pout at him.

He clicks is tongue in sympathy.

"Be a good girl and I'll give you what you need."

You hate being denied, even after you begged so nicely, and gave him what he wanted, so you're not thinking when you roll your eyes.

"Well now you've done it." He says getting to his feet.

His hand grips your hair, and you're forced to watch him unlace his shorts with one hand.

His thick cock is pressed to your cheek the instant it's freed.

Billy groans above you, rutting his erection against your cheek for a moment, you can feel a drop of his precum slide against your face, before he's tapping the head of his cock against your lips.

You're too much at his mercy to resist him, naked on his catamaran in the open air, your knees ache from where you're kneeled on the bow.

Your mouth opens reflexively, and his cock is slipping into your mouth in the next moment.

You moan around him, mouth open to take as much of him as possible. He only gives you a few inches, enough to keep your mouth full, but not to choke you.

You suck and lick at him when you can, kissing his tip when he retracts all the way, and opening your mouth easily for him to stuff his cock into your mouth.

Your clit throbs, begging for a single touch to relieve the ache inside you, but you know that pushing him any more would mean that you get denied for longer, so you try your hardest to ignore your body's begging.

It's easy to do with his cock in your mouth. The salty taste of his precum spreading intermittently on your tongue. He takes his time, slow and steady, filling your mouth, going just a little deeper each time.

"I bet you love this, baby. Bet you're dripping onto my boat, making a mess down there."

He grunts a little.

"I should make you clean it up after, make you bend over and use your tongue."

You moan around him.

"I know you like the thought of that, maybe one day I'll make you lick your own come off my cock," he smiles down at you, "My filthy little girlfriend."

Fuck, you press your thighs together, desperate for him.

His cock feels amazing in your mouth though, and it's easy to distract yourself when he begins to push in deeper.

"That's right baby, take it all, I wanna hear you choke."

Which is exactly what you do, gagging when his cock hits the back of your throat, forcing you to fight his grip and pull away with a gasp.

It takes you a moment, swallowing, before taking him back in.

You push yourself this time, determined to press your nose to his abdomen, holding your breath, squeezing your eyes shut and willing your body to relax and let his cock in.

Just like when he's inside you, your throat feels filled as much as possible. You only stop when you can't go any more. Mentally preparing yourself, you swallow around his cock.

The discomfort is worth it when you feel his body tremble, his moan is loud and unhinged, and you simmer with delight, pulling off of him to breathe.

You're clit is still begging for attention, but you can easily forget about it by focusing on his pleasure.

How mad would you have to get him for him to fuck your mouth? God, the idea of him angrily rutting into your mouth makes you so excited.

"Like I said, Lieutenant. Boring." You rasp, looking up at him with a mischievous smile on your face.

The muscle in his jaw tics for a moment, looking down at you.

"I'm your Captain." He corrects.

"No way, that title is earned through respect."

"You don't respect me?"

"Not for a second." You say  with a devious smile.

His hand grips the back of your head firmly.

"I can fix that." Is all he says before he's pulling your head forward. You open your mouth to take him, excited to get what you want.

He's gives you no mercy, pushing and pulling your head like you're his own personal toy. Your eyes are closed, your hands are clenched into fists at your sides as you try to relax your mouth as much as possible.

The sounds he makes are pornographic, little grunts and moans as he fucks your mouth with abandon. Your knees hurt, and your eyes water, but you don't fight his painful grip on the back of your head. It all becomes... irrelevant, each protest your body makes goes ignored, replaced by uninhibited delight whenever you hear a sweet sound from Billy.

"Who's your Captain now, baby? Hmm?" He asks, as if you have any faculties available to answer.

You whine, when he pulls you off his cock, gasping for air, yet still leaning forward to take his erection into your mouth.

He keeps your head in place, and you look up at him desperately.

"Am I your Captain?" He asks.

You blink, trying to resist him, trying to lean forward again to take his spit slicked cock back into your mouth.

"No," he says, pulling your head back once again, "focus on me you desperate little girl."

You whine, looking up at him, and then down to his cock, and then back up to him.

"Captain." You say hoarsely.

He looks smug.

"Yes, baby?"

"Want your cock, Captain."

"Really? This cock?" He asks, bringing your head closer until his tip just brushes your lips. You try to lean forward but he holds you firm. You can almost forget that you're naked on your knees in the shade of the midday sun.

"Captain Russo." You murmur, looking up at him demurely,  "Please."

He tuts affectionately at your pleading face.

"Oh baby," he hums, wiping at some of the spit at the corner of your mouth, "Cockdrunk little thing, hmm?"

You nod your head, and thankfully you don't have to beg any more because he's pulling you back onto his cock.

He moves slower this time, giving you time to breathe with every couple of thrusts.

"Gonna come in your mouth baby. Would you like that? Wanna swallow all my come?"

You hum eagerly and he chuckles.

"Of course you do." He says, which is all the prelude you get before he's fucking your mouth again.

He doesn't slow down, pistoning his hips, grunting and groaning and you know instinctively that he's on edge, and he's going to come in your mouth any second, and you have to be mentally prepared for the taste, that admittedly wasn't your favourite but that's okay.

You hollow your cheeks a little, and Billy moans loudly, pushing his cock all the way into your mouth. He holds you there as he orgasms with a loud groan, spilling the first wave if his come down your throat, but pulling out of your mouth in the next moment, to your surprise.

His fist is tight on his cock as the second and third wave of come splashes onto your cheek and chin, and then the final bit hits your chest.

You look up at him, feeling his warm come slip from your face and down your chest.

His breathing is sharp and heavy, and you marvel at his ability to stay on his feet when he orgasms, because you know it's a skill that you don't have.

He swipes at a droplet of come lingering on his cock, and pushes it into your mouth. You accept it eagerly, cleaning his thumb and smiling when he pulls it away.

He studies you for a long moment.

"You're so pretty. Do you know that?"

You give him a shy smile followed by a shrug of your shoulders. He tucks himself back into his pants, before refocusing on you.

"Up," he says, reaching out to grip your shoulders and pull you to your feet. You barely put weight on your legs for a second before your knees crumple, and Billy reaches out to catch you, one arm sliding under your knees to lift you into his arms.

"Sorry, legs forgot how to work."

"That's okay baby, I'll put you in a nice comfy spot before I get my tongue on you."

You begin to tingle again, smiling to yourself as he takes you below deck, into a spacious bedroom.

You hum in appreciation, the walls are white with dark wooden inlays and concealed storage places all around the room. The bed is large, round, covered in grey sheets and a mountain of pillows.

He places you down, and you hum at the smooth, silky feel of the sheets on your bare skin. The bed is soft, and encourages you to relax.

Billy guides you to the centre of the bed, placing pillows under your head and around your body to keep you nice and cozy. You try not to move too much, you don't want to get any of his come, still lingering on your chest and collarbones, on the bed.

He watches you for a long while, kneeling beside you in his tight fitted black shirt and board shorts. If you knew anything about him, you knew that he wasn't done with doing filthy things to you just yet.

He leans over you to kiss you gently, avoiding the remnants of come on your face.

"You look so beautiful, covered in my cum." He murmurs, swiping the bit on your cheek and pushing it into your mouth. You clean his fingers eagerly, even though his come has a bitter and mildly unpleasant note to it.

He catches some on your collarbone next, swiping a single finger through it, before pressing it to your nipple. You hum in delight and arousal, his come is slick and slippery and it swirls around your areola easily. He copies the same movement with your other breast, and you can't help wriggling, too worked up to stay still.

"Billyyyy," you complain, hoping he takes some pity on you.

"Hush, baby. Let me enjoy rubbing my come into your skin."

You watch his hand swirl a fingerpainting of his spend over your body, making lazy circles on your breasts, and writing his name onto your stomach with a smile. He then swipes another bit, and you gasp when he paints it over your mound.

"Open your legs." He murmurs, and you do so eagerly, just to watch and feel him circle his cum into your clit.

You feel so debauched, a dirty little thing, letting Billy Russo do whatever he wanted to your body.

Your body tingles, eager and excited for whatever he gives you next.

He chuckles when he looks at your face.

"You really like this, don't you? I wrote my name in cum on your skin and that gets your pussy all swollen and needy."

"Yes, Captain." You mumble softly.

He makes a low sound in the back of his throat.

"What else will you let me do to you?" He ponders, moving to settle himself between your thighs. You sigh blissfully, thanking whatever deity is out there that he's finally going to give you some relief.

"What if I wanted to roleplay things with you? Would you do that for me?" He asks, head dropping to your thighs, an explosion goes off in your head when you feel his thumb press on your clit, his arm circles around your thigh, forcing your leg to be draped over his back.

"What- mmm- what kind of things?" You ask, your skin tingling with the scratch of his beard and the softness of his lips as he kisses your skin.

"Dark things, wicked things, being taken advantage of type things." He says to you, circling his thumb slowly.

You mewl, ideas spinning in your head.

"Yeah?" You ask, eager to keep him talking, even though it stops his mouth from being where you need it, "Like what?"

He seems to think for a moment, you feel a soft kiss on the softest swell of your inner thigh.

"What if I find a lost little girl, and I help her get home, and I make her thank me?"

You gasp, nodding at the thoughts, glad to see that your ideas and his are aligned.

"I'd like that a lot." You rasp, "I want to pretend with you."

"Good girl." He hums, before his lips seal around your clit.

You swear you could come from the sensation, after being tormented by him for so long, your back lifts off the bed for a moment, wiggling your hips, desperate for more.

He lifts his head, after sucking on your aching bud for a moment, to look up at you.

"Why don't you play with those sticky nipples for me? Go on, lick your fingers first, get them wet. That's it, good, so good for me."

You whimper, wet fingers gliding over your nipples, rubbing his come into your skin, and your toes curl when he gets his tongue back on you.

"Oh, fuck." You sigh, head exploding with the abundance of pleasure. How is he so good at this? How does his tongue know the perfect pressure to apply to make you feel so disoriented?

"Billyyyyy, oh please, right there, God- fuck-" your head is tossed back, every thought stuck on the feel of his tongue, licking over your clit recklessly.

It works you up so easily, his mouth on your pussy, and you can't warn him about your impending orgasm, too gone to speak. Your fingers dance over your nipples, plucking them intermittently, reminding you of the absolutely debauched things he's done to you so far.

Your thighs tighten around his head, and you hear him groan blissfully, tongue gliding over your clit, dipping down to slide over your entrance before moving back up.

His pressure increases just a little, giving you one harsh lick after another and it's all you need to push you over the edge.

You cry out, squeezing his head between your thighs as your fingers tangle in the sheets, gripping them as tremors flood your body. The pleasure zips up your spine, blooms on your skin, a whine on each breath as you try to wrap your head around the insurmountable pleasure rolling through you.

He gives your slit a few gentle kisses, looking up at you with dark eyes.

"Did you like that?" He asks gently, in a teasing way, as if he doesn't know the power he wields over you.

You smile at him, sitting up, to kiss him, but pausing when you feel the tackiness of his come, giving an uncomfortable feeling on your skin.

"Can we finish this in the shower?" You ask between breaths and he smiles, pulling your legs until they wrap around your hips, his hands supporting your behind as he stands.

You gasp, arms wrapping around him, feeling him kiss the top of your head as he walks you to the bathroom.

It's got one of those rain shower heads, and you marvel at it while he unfolds a small sitting area for you directly under the nozzle. He steps away from you for a moment and you watch him tug his tight shirt over his head, his shorts hitting the ground next and your mouth waters when his cock springs free again.

His fingers grip your chin the second he makes his way in front of you.

"Gonna be a good girl for me? Hmm?" He asks with his dominant and demanding aura clearly displayed in his eyes.

"Yes Captain." You say eagerly, nodding your head, stomach tightening when he smiles, mimicking your nod in a teasing manner.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Open your legs."

You do as he says, letting him come to stand between your open legs. His cock brushes your stomach and you try to look down but his fingers grip your chin firmly.

You look up at him in surprise, and he gives you a smug look before leaning down to kiss you.

At the same time, he starts the shower, and you gasp into his mouth as the warm water traces through your hair and dances down your skin.

You feel the remnants of his pleasure being washed from your body, his hands gripping your thighs to pull you to the edge of the seat.

His forehead pressed to yours, you hold eye contact as he pushes the head of his cock into you.

"Oh god." You moan, eyes falling shut as you feel him take up space inside you.

It's a new feeling, to have water cascading over the both of you as he takes his time filling you to the brim. It makes you feel touched and appreciated on every inch of your skin.

Billy watches you carefully, searching for any signs of hesitation or discomfort, aching to drink the water from your skin, leaning back to run his hands over the curves of your wet body.

He loves you so much. He feels something flutter in his chest, down to his stomach as he hears you moan on his cock.

He'd drop to his knees and spend eternity following you around like a puppy if you asked nicely.

But he knew what you needed- a firm hand, a harsh grip at the back of your head, a smile against your mouth as he gives you punishing thrusts, and he was glad to give you what you deserved.

Your ankles lock behind his ass as he gives you his first hard thrust. Water spills into your open mouth, and then drips out, and you let it, uncaring about anything else as he pumps his cock into you forcefully.

Each thrust is met with a little whimper, and you know he likes this, with the way his eyes light with amusement.

He is unrelenting, his cock touching every intimate spot inside you, he circles his hips once to make sure you feel it.

He groans in your ear, and increases his pace, fucking into you faster and faster as the minutes go by.

"Is this what you wanted, baby? Is this what you were dreaming of every night while you were sleeping next to me?"

You nod, pressing your face to his chest, digging your fingertips into his shoulders.

You whine his name, focusing on the filthy slapping sounds being made as your hips meet.

"Can't wait to fulfil your every dirty fantasy, baby. I'll make you come so hard you see stars."

What kind of man talks this way? But you knew the answer. Only Billy Russo could.

"I-m gonna come, Ca-ah- Captain."

Your hair clings to your body, you stick your tongue out to lick at some of the droplets gliding over his skin, eager to taste him.

"Yeah baby, come for me. Can't wait to fuck you full again. My favourite little hole."

You clench around him, a warning of your imminent pleasure.

His thrusts grow more forceful, and your body grips his cock hard for a moment before stars explode behind your eyes. You can barely even register that your vision goes white, too caught up in the pleasure of your orgasm, moaning loudly as your high hits you in powerful waves.

Tilting your head up, the falling water hits your cheeks, rolling down your body, he kisses your jaw, his beard scratching at your skin.

You're taken with him then, grabbing either side of his face and pulling his mouth to yours. He groans against your lips and you greedily swallow the sound.

You hair clings to his skin too, and you smile bashfully, when he takes his time to smooth your hair back, away from your face.

"I can tie it up if you want." You suggest, and he grins.

"Don't you dare." He responds, cupping your face to continue kissing you.

It's surprisingly pleasurable, with the water falling all over you, not a single thought or worry in the world except how next your boyfriend is going to please you.

He slides you off the little seat, giving one breathless kiss before spinning you around and bending you over said seat.

He gives a little kick to your leg, making you open them wider, and you lean forward a little, arching your back to put your ass on display.

His hands push your hair to the side, it stays easily with the water keeping it in place. His beard scratches at the base of your neck and you shiver, the feeling delighting you.

You feel so close to him, so in tune with his thoughts, that you already feel like one person, even before he's slipping his cock back into you.

He feels bigger like this, and you try to stop your legs from wobbling by locking them stiff.

He moans into your neck, his front slippery and wet against your back, he raises a hand to cup at your breast.

"Tell me what I want to hear. Say it for me." He grunts into your ear, and you marvel at the ways you understand him.

"I'm yours." You murmur.

His hips begin to move.

The head of his cock kisses that spot deep inside you that has fireworks going off in the back of your head. You're vaguely aware that you're moaning to high heaven.

A hand wraps around your throat, you clench hard around him in response. He lets out a grunt of amusement, his fingers press tighter into the sides of your neck.

Water trickles between your bodies, the gentle sensation feels overwhelming.

The hand on your breast slips down, he presses the heel of his palm into your lower abdomen. You gasp in surprise, at the increased sensation.

"Can you feel me here? Deep inside you?" He drums his fingers over your skin, "I'm gonna come so deep in you, right here, and you'll keep it safe and warm for me, yeah?"

"Yes, please." Is all you can say. Yes, please, as if you're his mindless little girl, privy and accepting of all his whims. And when his grip tightens on your throat, and his teeth sink into your shoulder, and his hips take on a rougher pace, your orgasm tears through you, but it's only him, and the things he can do and the way that he does it and your bliss becomes something that isn't just for you, but for him as well. A way to show him that you were truly his.

Tears spill from the corner of your eyes, being washed away in the spray of the shower, his teeth are still pressed to your skin, the grip on your throat loosens.

A few more frantic thrusts and he comes, groaning into your skin, his hips stuttering as he pumps wave after wave of come into you, his warm seed coating your walls, making you sigh in bliss.

His teeth unlatch from your skin, his tongue licking over the indentations affectionately. It hurts, but you can bear the pain with the amount of pleasure flooding your system.

His hands smooth over your skin, he stays buried in you for as long as he can before his softening cock slips out on its own.

"Was that too much?" He asks, water still pouring over you, and your heart pulls a little at the insecure inflections in his voice.

He was definitely something special. Like dark chocolate, bitter around the edges, but so deliciously addictive.

You loved his bitterness, his debauchery, you loved...him, and all of the dark pleasures he promised.

"Not at all." You finally say, turning to him, leaning up for a kiss that he returns.

He smiles, kissing over your cheeks and shoulders, scratching his wet beard over your cheek, earning a little giggle from you, before he's turning off the shower.

"We should get back, you'll be sleepy soon."

You smile, watching him grab a fluffy towel and letting him wrap it around you. You had no other clothes, and you'd have to spend the ride back as you were now.

He pats the top of your head with the towel, and you smile, moving to sit on the bed, watching him get dressed.

He takes you back up to the helm, sits you in the soft seat beside his, where the sleek black ship's wheel stands prettily in front of his seat.

He brings you a cool glass of wine, and you accept it gratefully as you sit beside him and watch him start up the engines.

"Damn, you really are a Captain, huh?"

He grins at you, his hair is slicked back and wet.

"That's what I've been saying, baby."

You chuckle, watching his focus shift from you as he begins to move.

You sip your wine, letting it relax you, offering him some every now and then and he accepts it easily.

Halfway back, he stops the boat for a second, and you gasp when he yanks your towel down to suck one of your nipples into his mouth.

You groan in unison, his mouth pulling pleasure from you as he gives the other breast the same attention, before pulling away to continue driving.

"Keep them out." He says, not sparing a glance at you and your mouth opens in protest, before you decide against it.

You liked the taste of his depravity, after all.

He's lying beside you, sharing the same pillow. His eyes are focused on your hand, interlocked with his, rubbing his fingers against yours to memorise the feel.

You're barely awake, exhausted from the heat of the sun, and Billy's sexy, yet tormenting persona.

"Would you still like me if I was bad?"

"You are bad."

His face breaks into a smile, looking at you for a brief second.

"Brat."

The silence and your shared breathing fills the space. You try not to push him, waiting for him to speak when he's ready.

"I mean, what if I was worse?"

You hum in thought.

"Would you hurt me or my family?"

"No."

"Would you hurt Frank or any of your friends?"

"Not intentionally."

"Would you hurt an innocent person?"

"Not if I can help it."

"Then, what makes you worse?" You ask.

He seems to ponder for a moment.

"I'm not.... sure."

You smile, scooching closer to him.

"I think I'll love you- like you!" Your heart pounds, chest squeezing in panic, "Like you, I think I'll still like you, as long as you stay true to who you are."

You look down at your joined fingers now, too scared to look into his eyes.

"I love, I mean like you too." He says softly, and your lip wobbles, emotions building forcefully inside you and threatening to spill out in the most dramatic way possible. Dark chocolate could be sweet too.

"You're a huge dumbass." You mutter, leaning in closer to him, pressing your face into his chest, wrapping your arms tightly around him.

"The biggest." He agrees, "Wanna go for a walk on the beach?"

"I can't walk," you sniffle, "My stupid boyfriend fucked me so hard I can't use my legs."

He can't help the laugh that spills from his mouth, his chest rumbles with joy. You smile into his chest.

"I can carry you on my back." He suggests.

"No, outside will be warm, and I'm so comfy right now." You wrap an arm around him, squishing his body against yours till he makes a little grunt.

"Okay, I'll hold you till you sleep. If you wake up and find me gone, I'll be upstairs making dinner.

"Mmkay." You mumble into his chest, sighing when you feel his hand circle your back slowly.

"Goodnight." You say, knowing that it's not night at all.

He huffs in amusement.

"Goodnight, baby."

~

A phone vibrates loudly, pulling you from your sleep. You groan, irritated at the incessant noise of his phone on the nightstand near your head.

You pop an eye open, grabbing his phone to look at the caller ID. Someone named James Wesley is calling.

You figure it must be urgent if they can reach him here. Wait, but, you thought the satellite had to be in range?

You grab the buzzing phone, wobbling to the elevator on shaky legs, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you press the elevator call button.

The phone stops buzzing when you step into the elevator, and you pause when you see that the call has been answered. The small Bluetooth button is lit, and you figure he probably answered the call from his watch or something.

The elevator opens to the kitchen and you hear Billy's voice, with a borderline aggressive tone.

"Tell Fisk, that I'll give him what he wants." Is all you hear him say, before the call ends.

"Billy?" You say to him, his back coming into view and he rounds on you quickly.

You lift his phone, trying to explain silently how you managed to overhear his words. Words that clearly demanded an explanation.

He takes a deep breath, looking a bit weary.

"We have to go back." Is all he says, with a small frown on his face.

.

.

.

#The Agony of Desire #billy russo #ben barnes #billy russo x reader #my writings #billy russo x female reader #the punisher #dark!billy russo #i compare his desires to dark chocolate #sweet #but bitter around the edges #just like he is kind #but there's a darkness inside of him that she unknowingly feeds #but she lives for it

[helloescapist]

The Sorcerers in a Relationship | Choso

Word Count: 10,075

Setting: Choso x gn!reader

Content Warnings: dark undertones, suggestive themes, mentions of various abuses, touched on trauma topics, but I strayed here and there, spoiler for the series, as well as Choso's lineage, there is a moment in which we briefly cover if the reader wishes to bare children

Summary: headcanons of Choso as a relationship partner, and what the relationship would entail, from attraction, courtship, commitment, and more.

A/N: I swear I did my best to keep this SFW, but It is so hard when there are images of Choso's jaw and neck line, and just... Choso. 🥴I will go on record by saying, I understand if you feel that the elder Death Womb Painting is too soft to become a yandere, and that is a narrative that works for you, and I support that (I look forward to reading your works!), but I will not be entertaining bashing in my inbox. 🙃

[image is not mine, it belongs to Gege Akutami the creator of Jujutsu Kaisen]

To be loved by the death womb painting is to know dependability. To be loved by Choso is to know the brisk chill of fall day amiable into the depth of the sunset, hues of orange crisps delicate against the sunset and amber garnets. It’s the assurance of the crips crunch of leaves beneath the heels of your shoes. Greeted by the tinge of frigidity caught into the tips of your fingers. Tingled and ached seared past the tips of your cozy sweater, quivered as though vivid leaves flickered into the stiff autumn breeze. The early indications of winter greeted to the tip of your nose, delighted to dip your chin into the plush of your scarf. Cozy and snug secured by the knot at your collar bone. Nuzzled into the knit fibers, tranquil to the delicate hushed tones of autumn ushering summer from its throne.

Eliciting a smile from the corner of your lips. Cultivated memories of pumpkin pastries fresh from the oven. Warm and gooey nothing compared to the thrill of your senses as his palms clasp over your own. Enfolded from your fingers fondled delicately as though he were clasping hand blown glass. Brittle and breakable caught between his powerful palms. Your back warmed secured to the grasp of his arms that enfold around your shoulders, the phantom touch of his defined jaw dragging against the crescent of your neck. Desperately seeking warmth from his neck. Exposed to the rasp of his husky breath rousing hidden desires. Gnawing yearning that blossoms at your breast and settles in the pit of your stomach drawing the heat to your cheeks. Hitches in your breath rattled to your ribcage that expedites warmth from the tips of your ears to the cusp of your existence. Eases your bones, and the exhaustion from your heart. Weariness lifted from your features; your thoughts hung only on the warmth of the man who cultivates your heart. Choso’s love is like that of a hot shower in the cold of winter clinging to the scent of sweet basil. As light and sweet whip cream subtle to the note of his sweat. Warmed earth, the hidden entice of his gaze as it means your own. Fingers that tenderly whisper inveigle into your skin. Muted spices that ignite in the steam of the shower dared to tase your senses. Dangled in a way that leaves a comforting linger of fragrance upon your skin as welcoming as diving into soft bedding. Snuggled into one another’s embrace assured of the safety of your home. To be loved by the enigma placed between curse and sorcerer is to bask in simple pleasures. Dates nights with board games savored between sips of hot chocolate. Delicate grazes that sooth the end of your hair faint to the touch that lull you to sleep. Toyed as his eyes trace your features, committed to memory. Giddy to detect the pale touch of a fine line traced at the corner of your mouth. Vestige of the joys of your relationship leaving its mark upon your essence. Drowsy mornings, the meet of your toes beneath blankets as the light of the day begins to seep through sheer curtain kissed upon the highs of his cheeks. To be loved by Choso is to know his heart is with you. Captivated at the bat of your eyelashes and cultivated at the elicit of your sighs. To know that his heart will remain with you regardless of where you may wander, or the time apart. Tended to by envelopes pressed with kisses reminding you to take care upon your voyage. To be loved by the Death Womb Painting is to know that he eagerly awaits your return.

To be loved by Choso is to understand that you will have to be veracious. You will have to approach the relationship with authenticity and ensure that all facades have been slipped from your soul. Pure and clean with no traces of shadow upon your soul.

Let’s be clear, he does not in fact expect you to be innocent. Depths of depravity is not a guaranteed deal breaker. It’s your ability to be forthcoming that he adores. The ability to approach him with authenticity is necessary. More so, you will find that he will need a little bit of patience alongside it.

It’s a bond born of sincerity. It’s one that is cultivated in kindness, and steadfast loyalty. Undying commitment, one that will not fold with the passage of time, nor the sway of the tides. Its devotion is wrapped in gentle touches, and soft gazes. The touch of his hand through your hair and the silence of the night.

It’s unwavering. One that cannot be swayed, bathed in integrity. Assured by the warmth of his larger hands enfolding over your own, marveling at the size difference between yours as he plays with your fingers. Toyed in the plush of his lips as the smile spreads across his lips, and his eyes peek at you through thick eyelashes.

To be loved by the Death Womb Painting is to know the safety of a gentle companion. A phantom that lingers over your shoulder, curiously peeking at what has caught your interest. A faint presence that is aways within reach tender as cashmere. Soft words whispered into the snug of your neck. It is simple pleasures dressed in adornment.

Free of pretenses and forced stuffy extravagance. To prefer simple delights such as a teaspoon of honey dipped into your afternoon tea as you dare to bundle into a blanket under the security of the veranda. Sipping upon the fragrance sweetness as crisp foliage is carried through the breeze. Happiness that lands upon a bed of leaves, content to delight in the crisp of earth beneath you.

His love is not one bathed in cologne, nor can you expect lavish gifting. Rather, Choso’s love is that of handpicked flowers, the soil snagged beneath his nails. Boyish joys that form at the high of his cheeks as he offers them to you, clueless that his generous selection is composed of weeds.

It is to be honest when something is on your mind. To understand that he has very little experience with the world, and to adjust your response as such. Though, he would rather endure a truth wrapped in barbed response than welcome a lie wrapped in beauty. To respond with sincerity and to respond to his tender touches with returned warmth.

Know that an embrace for him especially at the beginning is bold, dangerously so for his entire world, and that the very brave endeavor is one that rattles him to his core. His soul will sing upon you returning his grasp, and reveal the quiver of certainty hidden beneath his stoic façade. Delicate and winding as the smile that responds as you peer up with him out of curiosity.

The reality is, regardless of where you are in life, you with almost all assurance, are the experienced partner, but do not mistake this as a lack of interest in learning on the false Kamo’s part. No, rather, you should press just a little further and delight as he comes undone.

Choso is attracted to individuals who are reliable, and it’s without surprising that the sincerity in which you approach life and relationships is a significant turning point that will lure him to your side. He did not become the oldest of the death womb paintings without being the product of cruel games at play and has no desires to relive the atrocities of his upbringing. We don’t blame him for unresolved Daddy issues.

Because of this, you will find that the cursed dipped sorcerer yearns for someone lighthearted and sincere. The world of jujutsu is not a simple one. It is a world poised in bleak obscenities. Curses birthed upon nightmares enridged upon insanities, and he was ripped from his mother’s womb abandoned amongst the wastelands of existence. His mere being is a mockery of life one that other forces desire to lock away from sight.

It is not a surprise that the older brother desires a lover that tips into daydreams. Soft and sweet to take him away from reality. A bright energy that breathes life into his existence separate from his willingness to die for his siblings. A joyful smile that allows his shoulders to loosen, and arms that embrace him upon greeting.

Though, don’t be confused, while one would suspect that Choso seeks a partner that is dependent, that leans up on his touch and is not far from reach. As faithful as a pet that desperately awaits the door-- he may find such a rare occurrence adorable, he loves to see the sparkle in his lover’s eyes upon the slip of words between their teeth. Unable to deny the pleasure of sharing passions.

Truthfully, he would find a partner that is not without their own pursuits and lack of free thought… a mere imagery of his parents. A chained relationship, loyalty bonded only due to the forced state of the relationship, tethered, and bound for fear of reprehension. A shadow of his mother locked away from sight subjected to endure onslaught of morbid curiosity, and the distant sound of her tears tucked away by a false smile.

I dare say he would cherish your sass and backtalk. It reassures him that he is nothing like his “fathers”.

No, the blood wielder is attracted to independent partners, one that can stand alone and wander as they will. One that will remain steady despite his absence when his pursuit of Itadori has forced him from his home.

He needs someone who will approach him with tolerance. Accept his unfamiliarity with social expectations, how he shies away from touch, or becomes confused at common phrases. Choso has not had the opportunity to be properly introduced to the world and its adventures, even as simple jumping in mud ridden puddles. The death womb painting has a deep desire for encouragement. He desires security, and comfort. Perhaps a deep seeded craving that neither he nor his brothers ever received in life.

A partner who can provide emotional intimacy, tender words, and carefully soothe the lines of worry from his brow would be everything to this man.

There are two scenarios in which I can imagine Kamo meeting you.

The first would be something simple, perhaps a human existing outside the jujutusu universe, not from a lack of abilities but as born of your disinterest in dealing with the double-edged sword of the community. Opting to stay out of the crossfires.

Dipped in the slowed hues of the day paled by the languid shades of blue. Stale shades of blue mimicked pale water that conceals turbulent undertow. The deceiving calm of the sky crackled soft clouds that somehow seemed dreary and hung upon the silent still of the dim of the day. The small knit playground near abandoned, shadows by the trafficked by the busied of stores, venders, and schools. Slipped from existence, forgotten amongst the passersby. The silent of a day, an opportunity to slip away from the mundane just to discover the motionless silhouette of a man nestled into the set of a swing. The knit of his brow he managed to sit upon the seat. The catch of sunlight between the sway of trees, and yet wrapped in an adornment of what you could only conclude to be priest robes or unfamiliar cosplay, he remained still. Befuddled dark eyes that stayed stagnant, glued to the blades of grass that flickered beneath the playground equipment. As though a frozen phantom, unacquainted with the intentions of the equipment leaving you to place your belongings quietly at the bench. Your hands that caught at the chains of the swing before daring to whisper into his ear, “hold on,” the quip of his head. His brow creased at the press of your hand at his back. Attempting to hold your composure rather than marvel at the firmness of his body as the swing caught to your force. His ponytails caught the shift of the movement, swayed beneath the chortle of your giggle as his body jerked briefly from shock.

The other way would be a sorcerer of the jujutsu world that has strayed interests. Neither falling into full bend of the expectations of the elders or the three families like a result of falling out of aligned goals such as Okkotsu. Unable to properly mask your dismay for the judgmental bags that wallow fear and cast away children for fear of the unusual. Barely kept in the loop as punishment, save for Satoru’s sense of humor and blurred intentions. The occasional babysitter for Megumi.

The burden of his weight pressed into your back. The ache of carrying the added weight for so long as you attempt to maneuver throughout the ruins of Shibuya. The last minute impart of information—you could kill Satoru. You really could, and least of all, you had not expected to be toting a bloody man’s form through the rubble. Dear god was that Todo terror right, have you grown flabby? Ah, none of this had been apart of the agreement; you had accepted the role of ensuring Okkotsu had access to Sukuna’s vessel, a young man. Not that the esteemed blight of the Satoru had bothered to share. While parts of the plan had followed as anticipated, Okkotsu was accompanied by failproof guards warded by the higherups, although you hadn’t expected that one of the prized Zenin born children would have been deployed, but had truly caught you off guard was the cursed dipped sorcerer you bore on your back. Intercepted the threat with no hesitation capable of going head-to-head with the famed asshole. The depths of his depravity was an unexpected surprise, and you could chastise yourself for not having guessed he was a ticking timebomb. No, you had not expected for your entrusted role would be claimed by well…. Whoever—whatever this was, or that you would be carting him to safety. Yet, witnessing Okkotsu’s capable abilities first hand--- leaving this person exposed to the night air felt wrong, a sacrificial distraction for the higher ups to pursue.

It will take some time for Choso to realize that he likes you as he often a natural affiliation for taking those within his vicinity under his wings. Especially those that feel almost close knit to him, because of this, it will take him time to separate the part of him that is willing to help a friend, from the version of him who is willing to go to extreme and uncomfortable measures to be within your vicinity.

Again, this is fairly uncharted territory for the man.

While it will be quite a bit of time for him to sort out why he is drawn to your side, and understand that there is no underlining hidden familial lines that have been buried. No one can blame him for being worried after discovering Yuji was his little brother! Yet, the moment that it dawns on him that it is not some instinctual big brother senses, you discover that he is far more adamant about pursuing you than he was before, and with intentions.

He’s confident.

“confident”.

The death womb painting is not entirely sure how to go about pursuing you, or if he has even wandered into your gaze or a time or to. Rather, he is assured of his decision. He has no doubts that he is interested in you, and even less concerns that his heart is not anchored to your own.

Really, he’s just uncomfortable with the concept of courting. Again, bear in mind that the closest thing he has witnessed to a relationship is the mess of his birthright. He’s unsure of what is considered an appropriate approach to engaging you, and the concept of attempting such things from the movies that he has witnessed in his little brother’s reclusive cave his sensei had set up is… embarrassing at minimum.

Grand gestures, stopping airplanes, and shouting your desires in a public place not only feels humiliating, but insincere. Choso cannot connect how his willingness to shout your name from Tokyo Tower coincides with years of devotion on his part. Is there some way that you can detect that a partner will remain loyal throughout the years because they are willing to engage in such grand gestures.

No, flirting for the blood wielder will be one that is indirect. Subtle to the point of madness. A desire to get to know you would be an indication, though it’s understandable why it would be difficult to differentiate his interest in you from others.  The way he leans forward and listens to every recount detail, he wants to know the depths of your being, your interests, your childhood, and all that you can offer.

He puts forward a great effort to talking and refuses to settle for anything dry or mundane like recent television shows or how your day was prior. More so, you’ll find that he has a concerningly willingness to engage. Downright unabashed at approaching conversations with the intention of seizing your attention for hours on end. He wants to know everything.

The false Kamo is the type to reach out with out a second thought. There will be no games in waiting three days or refusing to make the first move in this aspect. He is more than excited to reach out to you as you cross his mind.

In a silly way, your best indicator that that the curse user is interested in you is his overtly polite stance in how he engages you. Yes, he has a tendency to be considerate of those he is fond of such as the way he hangs on Yuji’s every words, or the way he listens to Tsukumo speak, but there is a near formal way that he regards you…

Truthfully, he’s depending on his enthusiasm to enter your orbit and remain in your pull as the way that you will realize that he is interested in you.

Choso approaches courting with extreme caution, and at his own pace. He cannot be pushed to expedite his intentions. He’s not the sort to just take your hand because the mood fancies him, or to kidnap you from your work to visit a carnival. Rather, he’s much more secure with sentimental gestures at are committed to building a stable foundation. It’s not that he won’t engage in romance, but that his approach is far more practical.

It’s in the way he values your time. The high significance of actions ahead of words. There are those who will depict their desires to spirit you away to Rome or Paris, but then there are those who would much rather await the day the opportunity affords it—Choso is the later.

He proves his affectiosn with subtlety, and boundaries. If you have brought up a favorite treat, he will pick it up on his way to meeting you for work. He can remember that you always sip a specific brand of coffee/tea/juice, and as he secures a beverage for himself and Itadori, you will find that he has also slipped your preference into the bag as well without a second thought.

It will be the small things that he has noticed about you in his observations that are a testament to his affection for you. His idea of romance is practical; small touches offering you his sweater when it is cold or allowing you to evade his space for warmth. Far too embarrassed that he wishes you would linger just a little longer.

It’s small moments.

Small moments that build meaning, that equate purpose and ensure a foundation in which you will always be linked to one another, but if you are wanting any progress to occur why else are you here, the odds are… you will have to make the first move. Unless by some choice you are fortunate enough to make him jealous more on this later to enforce a confession from the man, you’re just going to have to take this step first. It’s better this way because the alternative route will result in a rather bitter start.

Choso would never forgive himself for starting off a relationship that way.

So, you will find it easier to just be up front. Don’t play games, do not dance around the topic, or have him wondering if there is a chance you will like him, or do not. If you are the sort to depend on body language, gentle touches, or small tokens of affection, he enjoys the attention, an opportunity to seize your eyes upon him for a bit, but he will NOT have the slightest clue that this is you expressing your interest.

He needs you to outright say it.

And not by dragging him an expensive, lavish restaurant that serves impossible small portions. No, it will need to be something small and without the pressure of him needing to immediately respond. Such as a break between snubbing out curses, or from assisting him to navigate the grocery store he wants to take care of his little brother so badly, but he does not understand the concept of a modern store. One that your smile is natural, warm to the moment. Just at peace to be in his presence, how your eyes wander to his own as he sips from his vending machine tribute. As you pretend you are not looking at that defined neckline. Before simply stating, “I like this. I like you.” Leave no misinterpretation to chance.

Dating can be a bit uneasy to differentiate between your established relationship and your courting phase. Again, this is nothing that he is accustomed to, and as the party that has the most experience, it will be your duty to ensure the shift is one that you are comfortable with. Because truthfully, Choso is low maintenance.

The curse born has content to simple sip tea along your side, wander through gardens from time to time, or share in one of those horrible movies his little brother recommends. However, it’s understandable that on your end, this may not be enough. I mean, you want to hold his hand eventually. So it cannot hurt to be prepared!

The first few dates, Choso will lean upon your willingness to take the first steps to understand what qualifies as dating, or significant developments in your relationships. Though he would be prone to utilizing what feels natural for him. Inquiring if you would like to go for a walk through the neighborhood. Accept your excitement about a limited edition pudding, picking it up on its way to your house bag in hand.

The elder brother enjoys dates with an intent. A clear itinerary is one that is bound to spark his interests. Some part of him enjoys being able to look through the expectations for the day and mentally prepare for the demands of the day. Emotionally prepare for moments that will be loud, and work up the courage for the moment in which he will take your hand in front of everyone.

If you feel the need for extensive dating, one s that have an itinerary such as approaching a fair with a laid out plan of which booths to hit will be interesting for him. Especially with how unfamiliar the concept is for himself, but the best dates for Choso are simple in nature.

Ones that require no prior knowledge and are simply born of your desire to be with him.

Dates that are sweet nights together watching a meteor shower from your veranda. The roll of dice in cozy clothes as you dare to lean across the table, risk obscuring game pieces to plant a kiss upon his nose.

In a relationship with Choso, it’s important to note that your partner has no desires to burden you with expectations or demands. He has no desires to burden you with his struggles, and often times struggle to balance the sacrificial martyr position he often places himself in. Far too willing to give of himself to others, you may at times feel like Choso is playing tug-a-war with his desires to be a lover and a brother.

If you can find it in yourself to remain a patient partner, and allow you to chase after his familial duties, you will find a bit more peace in your relationship, but there will be times in your relationship that you will have to put your foot down on his behalf. He struggles with saying no to those under his deemed care. Not that I can imagine Itadori taking advantage of his older brother, but individuals like Satoru would definitely capitalize on the opportunity.

In a relationship, you should expect that Choso’s patience for emotional drama and continual misunderstandings is lacking in comparison to other potential partners. It’s not because he is not a patient man. He is calm, and extremely composed in most of his day-to-day affairs. However, he finds the concept extremely overwhelming. Draws out bits of anxieties out of him from his lack of upbringing, and further poisons insecurities he has buried deep down. All Choso wants in his life is stability, an on concept amongst the word he was created.

He desires something that is natural, that flows with one another.

Choso yearns for a relationship that is peaceful as elders rock quietly on their unassuming rocking chairs. Commitment that will devote to lifelong devotion. The unmovable force in his life that does not yield to the higherups, or the press of morals.

Though his expectations of the relationship are nothing that he is not willing to give of himself. The sorcerer is well committed to preserving your comfort in the relationship and is certainly not the type to stray. He’s as devoted as the sun is to set at the end of the day. Truthfully, he is extremely firm in maintaining a healthy relationship with equal grounds for both partners so much so that at times he can appear very demanding.

In love, Choso is a deeply committed partner. He is concerningly loyal to the point that the existence of another person in this world that could exist in a romantic perspective. Just as he pursues his little brothers, he is one tracked mind. Literally, in Choso’s world, there is no one in this world who can take his place. None that can compete with your beauty. He will be completely oblivious to any advances from outside forces, far too eagerly awaiting your arrival.

Choso poises honest and mutual respect into his relationships in ways that often border into near confrontational attempts as he wants the reassurance that he is not in fact forcing you into anything. It can almost be maddening how considerate he is at times. The blood wielder is highly devoted to developing emotional intimacy and solidifying his bond with you. At times, it can be difficult because in some ways it appears as though he may not be ready for these steps.

He’s almost childlike in how unfamiliar he is with such things.

But, he’s not deterred. Choso is the sort to seek out advice—I can imagine him fidgeting with a scowl fixed to his brow as he twists to and fro with his poor little brother Yuji becoming increasingly uneasy with the elder’s obvious fixated glower in his direction. Mangled to approach the topic,  inevitably coerced by Yuji’s  inquiry as  to what it was he wanted to talk to him about. Yuji is equally inexperienced, and the discombobulated way he flips Choso’s world upside down when he expresses that he should just “go with it”.

Because of the likely areas that Choso will extract relationship advice from, he will intentionally seek environments that could inspire vulnerability between the two of you, and ensure that you are progressing your relationship in a secure way, but while this at times can seem odd—and they are, it will conclude fairly quickly.

He can only endures so much of the obscure approach to bonding a relationship before you will realize that he is forcing himself through these motions and set him right at the clasp of your hand over his own. Expressing that really, all you desire is to pick up a pizza on the way home.

Struggles to maintain composure when he witnesses you in his robes, cozy and lazily stepped to the side.

Choso’s devotion is not without consideration. He is a devoted man, one who will make far more sacrifices than you can fathom. There are no gestures that will be wasted on him. A packed lunch will set his cheek and heart on fire, and leave him a little sputtered when someone inquires about the pink bundle he has hidden within his sleeves.

Touches of extra fabric scent in the way you added his laundry to your own will leave him to snuggle his nose into his collar, the scent of you still touched upon the fabric. His stomach almost in knots at how intimate the implication is. Some part of him wishes someone would point out that you smell the same.

While Choso desires a mutual ground for relationships, he often leans towards more traditional values. Now don’t worry this does not mean that you are condemned to a life of a stay-at-home parent—though if this is a future desire of yours he will iron out the details. Because the implication scares the shit out of him. But, he’s not confined to the concept of you having to succumb to these traditional standards.

Rather, he’s fairly attached to more traditional relationship values. Two partners, committed to one another, but he is respectful of your beliefs. It may take some time, but Choso is committed to working things out even if it means trying to navigate nontraditional relationship standards.

Though, I can’t say that it will go well as time goes on.

His familial background with a nontraditional relationship was horrendously toxic. Spoiler the whole his human mother he cared for + Kenjaku+ the OG Noritoshi Kamo that utilized his mother and all of her children for his entertainment. So, it’s fairly understandable that Choso is weary of any relationship standards that stand outside of the norm.

He does however, remain adamant to respecting your desires so long as you are mindful of his own.

Choso will remember everything, absolutely everything. He’ll remember what you ordered from the little shop o the square the one time you went there. Choso can recount even the smallest of details between the connection of how your eyes floated to the gentle blossoms in the florist window, or the way your eyes light up at the prospect of a new weapon being unearthed.

At times, his dedication to remembering every detail can often appear obsessive in his pursuit. Down to the exact point that he is aware of exactly where you will be on Thursday at 3:14p.m. The level that he is in tuned with your day-to-day is almost frightening, and if it does bother you, you will need to reassure him. Push back at how he probes.

Choso could easily dip into the yandere territory, and it would take time for us to notice because his sincere concern and affection for his partner is just so damn genuine.

Though it’s important to know that in this relationship, you have the spotlight. The man will worship every fiber of your being, kiss upon your brow, to blossom mark upon your collar, through your bones. You dreams are his own, your passions are his.

In Choso’s world, your world will take precedence. In all sense of the word, you are just short of the reason why the sun rises in the morning. I’m only short of exaggerating there is that minor competition with Itadori.

The Death Womb Painting takes his commitments with sincerity. Just as you have witnessed with his brothers, Choso takes his word as devotion, his commitment is his voice, and his sacrifice is his love.

It’s important to note that if for some reason you thought that a casual relationship was in the cards, you will be highly disappointed. Attraction, relationships, love are occurrences that Choso takes lightly.  In his life, stability, security, and reassurance are everything that takes precedence in his desires. A casual relationship leaves room for wandering, to explore alternative choices, and welcome new opportunities.

And while I can imagine him engaging in a one night stand, I cannot see him remaining a float in such a relationship. In many ways, the commitment in itself is half the attraction, the lure of promise forever on the tip of his tongue. He craves that touch of eternity, and a casual relationship threatens everything for a short fleeting fling.

No, for Choso a relationship that has no end line for commitment is not one that he would openly pursue. For him, the sincere connection, the loyalty displayed between the two of you is all he yearns for.

It’s important to understand that in approaching Choso, the intent for eternity is heavily implied, and one that he will not easily part with.

That being said, I imagine that a family with the curse bound spirit would be a topic that bears significant turbulence. On one hand, we’re not entirely sure if he’s capable of bearing children in the even that you are capable of conceiving. The barriers in which his own conception is a unique concoction, and one that will take into consideration if you wish to start a family this way.

In many ways, you’ll find that the dynamic that Choso holds towards his little brother is almost what we can expect from him as a father. A tad overbearing, consistently hunging on every word, and eager to follow the child’s lead. Consistently worried, and always on edge, worried over every potential threat that his child could endure. But in this word… is that an unfair worry? If he could allow himself to release a bit of the inherited leash, Choso could make a wonderful and attentive parent. We have seen the love and devotion for his siblings—he would be willing to do so much more for his children whether adopted, fostered, or carried.

I can’t imagine him turning down an adopted or foster child, but I can see him having a few more concerns because they are not bound by his blood senses as a biological child would be.

However, truthfully, Choso holds so much resentment, and burdens bound to his soul that threatened to drive him under at every turn. It’s a tether that connects him to a damning sentence that holds him a choke hold, and the moment he sees your eyes wander to smaller children. It will seize his thoughts, panic his senses, and horrifies his cores threatening to send him into depravity. It is everything he fears rolled into a receiving blanket.

Really, I feel like for his personality, he would do best with one child, but for how heavy his bonds are with his brothers, I just cannot imagine him staying at one child…

For how devoted of a individual Choso is, the odds of him cheating are specifically low with no real interest. He truly craves stability over novelty, and is not the type to be lured away from a a set of pretty eyes and tender words. Especially with how inclined he is to naturally having distrust from those around him. In a healthy relationship with respected boundaries, and free of tension, he is not the type to share a bed with another.

Now, let’s be clear, he is a surprisingly vengeful man should his boundaries be pressed, and unresected to passerby. More later. Under the right pressed and toxic concoction, Choso would use sex as a way to enact revenge if he saw it necessary. Though he would prefer alternative routes, it’s not entirely cut off.

In many ways, communication with Choso is often gentle, and amicable. He is a natural, warm communicator that is used to tending to the needs of others. It’s not surprising that he can listen to disgruntled complaints, even those directed at him. Really, I imagine that the majority of people feel comfortable initiating conversations with him against his will. He has a peaceful aura that will be comfortable and leans itself into random people, sharing far more than he is comfortable to accept.

Save. Him.

It is his own fault though—he has a natural way with words that are flowed and comforting that, anyone can fall into his honeyed orbit and drown in its sincerity. It’s that part of him that is considerate of others, and succumbs to the conversation. He’s empathetic, far too willing to allow himself to be dragged into conversations with a stranger, and even validate their grievances and attempt to offer assistance in resolution.

But I would still recommend that you keep your expression constructive, and gentle. He carries such a burdened  sense of self, that truthfully I can see that approaching the chosen topic of tension from a negative, and aggressive state will only lead to fighting. A fueled pumped of angst on both ends that is not likely to end well. At the same time, I imagine that unless you remain peaceful and considerate of his feelings…

You will need to monitor his actions rather than his words as the older brother, the one to carve the path on behalf of his siblings, Choso is accustomed to burying his emotions. Snag them behind a stoic expression, and allow the onslaught to continue well pass normal breaking points. That truthfully, I cannot see him approaching an issue between the two of you of his own conviction.

Rather, I imagine that he would seek to maintain the peace misunderstanding that silence does not symbolize an olive branch. Choso is in able to mask his concerns with busying himself. Attempted to distract himself from tasks that are waying on him, and the nagging feeling of tension budding into his relationship. Something he does not know how to navigate, and has never faced before.

Because of this, it’s best to approach your discussions with precision, and sincerity. While the approach at times can be a little… hurtful, the sorcerer is far more accepting of blatant honesty than sugar coated truths. It’s apart of what attracted him to you, and is a selling point in your relationship. Really and truly what assured him to take the steps to take the dive.

Overall, he’s near dynamic in his responses. Assuming nothing touches far too close to home in which case, he is quick to fall off the deep end and allow his actions to possess his consciousness. As we have witnessed firsthand, Choso cannot sympathize with individuals with sibling conflicts—not out of bitterness. I think to some extent he can be considerate and empathize with the common familial battles such as the limitation of hot water, that one sibling always demands more attention, or the grubby fingers that always take the last dinner roll, but nothing so deep seated as intentional strives to hurt one another aside from petty sweater borrowing.

No issues that intentionally subject siblings to unnecessary injury, physical, emotional, absolutely none of it--- he will not be able to hold his composure. And he may end up adopting the afflicted sibling.

I can see him butting his nose into any of your family problems more than you may like. All of it is sincere, and not intended to come off as judgmental as it often does, but for Choso, it’s easy to blur boundaries when it comes to family. His lines are not clearly defined within his own family, and its certainly easy for him to expend more than he should.

So it’s to be expected that his borderlines are fuzzy when it comes to your own family ties. You will likely have to save him from overtly demanding laws as he is likely to sacrifice far too much of himself to help. On the same end, you’ll have to rescue your family from him if he detects underlining themes of abuse.

His pressing into family affairs whether his or your own can become intense and a little rigid. His standards at times can be downright unforgiving, and this applies to how you handle your family as well.

Fighting with the Death Womb Painting can be a very emotional tinted affair, and you will have to be forth coming about how your behavior has contributed to the source of strife. Anything short of admitting your fault in the verbal dispute will leave him with the impression that you are genuinely unaware of how you have played a part in the dispute, or that you are trying to manipulate the perspective. Neither of which will end well. Not because he is likely to outright reengage.

He’s more likely to back off the entire affair.

Choso has such a difficult time processing emotions in general let alone when they run extremely high. As a natural born protector, he has a deep seeded fear of hurting loved ones, and will go to extreme lengths to avoid conflicts. He’s a natural peacekeeper as the older sibling, and quick to simply sort things out, or burry them with lock and key.

Not only does this run the risk of extreme health issues and eventual combustion that will be downright vile and vengeful, but it also places an extreme strain on the relationship that will open itself to a multitude of miscommunication. The reality is that in attempting to keep the peace, and bite his cheek, the curse wielder is likely to appear extremely cold and detached. To the point of bordering into insensitive that can leave you with the feeling of emotional abandonment.

During these times in which he believes he is preserving the relationship and defending it, he is completely unaware of how you have grown silent during dinner, that his shoulder recoils from your touch.

Dead bedroom ahead.

It’s because of this that owning your part in the conflict is the preferred route to voyage down. Withe he will still attempt to safeguard the relationship and stuff down that little bit of conflict, with a gentle approach, he’s likely to come undone. The concept that you would handle him so delicately is foreign to him. He’s putty.

I’m not joking. While the Death Womb Paintings care and would die for one another, as the oldest brother, Choso has always bore all of the responsibility. Has entrusted himself with the task to carve a path to the future whether it was a course that was a painful duty or not. He always took the responsibility, and a part of him wishes that he had the inner strength to do so in a relationship, especially in the beginning. He very will try to fake it, but it’s not going to be… successful.

Choso grapples with self-doubt. Just as he claims responsibility, he also bears the burden of all failed attempts and conflicts. Even the smallest of infringement will leave him with the impression that he has failed his brothers, and all others within his vicinity.

Though he will never admit it, it’s evident in the way he carries himself. How he lingers on every word, expresses the knot in his throat as he mulls over every detail. The sorcerer craves validation. Reassurance that he has done the right thing, that he has always done the best with what he was provided. More so, he is especially delicate when it comes to criticism.

An unexpected people pleaser, I mean I don’t blame you for being surprised at how his mouth draws a natural line, but for those he cares about, he cares so deeply for the opinion of those within his circle. So much so that any slipped comment can bruise his ego, and create a small wedge between the two of you.

Though if you were to adjust your input into something constructive with ways that he can improve, or ways that you would prefer how he approaches something in your relationship, you would be amazed that any anxieties will be nullified. He’s leaned into every word you utter, an advice you have to offer.

Especially if this is bedroom talk, he is taking mental notes if not actual physical notes for him to recite. He really does want to learn, he wants to do his best, to be his best for you, and if you are willing to offer the road map without any pretenses, he is ready to set sail.

Truthfully, for Choso a bit of patience in arguments or disputes can approach everything with more ease than you would expect. Especially as time goes on and he feels secure in your relationship, he will be much more forth coming. Choso is a deeply passionate man who can allow his inner desires to drive him, and to know that he has ever come off as uncaring is devastating. He will do everything within his power to ensure that this never happens again.

Another reason I feel he could be a candidate for a yandere.

Jealousy is a delicate topic for Choso. On one hand, in the early stages of a relationship, it is as natural as breathing. It is as simple as the fold of his fingers through your own as he clutches them tightly, anchoring you to his body as his teeth meet at unforgiving at the slender curve of your neck, and the bruising of ownership that follows.

Coupled with his natural self-doubt and the circumstances of his birth and the treatment of his siblings, it goes without saying, Choso is not a trusting man. He is cautious, and takes every movement with sincere disposition, ready to withdraw at the slightest detection of something lurking beneath the surface. Trust is not easily earned for the Death Womb Painting, but his scorn if he feels he has been wrong certainly is. Ask Itadori.

In the beginning, he has the tendency to become jealous over small little things. Such as the joyful flit of your laughter that meets his ears as your giggle at another person’s joke. He can feel his nose wrinkle, the arche of his brow, and the clench of his teeth. Though it does not occur to him that he is angry until he has nearly ripped you from your seat. Oh, gods does he feel remorseful for it later, but for now... his priority is separating you from this threat.

How a name keeps dripping from your tongue as you discuss your day-to-day, a repeat customer, a friendly co-worker, all of it has him clutching his fists and biting his teeth, but the moment you dare to praise him. To admit that you found this person’s work ethic commendable or dare to express that you find this individual reliable, he can be quite vengeful in his handling of you that night.

Remember how I expressed how he can be especially vengeful? You dare to flirt with another, you will find that he will do everything within his will to remind you who you belong to, and if it has strayed further.

He’s toying with how he will enact his revenge.

However, I don’t feel like this would last forever. Truthfully, in the beginning he is weary, nervous, and frightened. It was so easy for others to become manipulated and danced into schemes that they never intended. He just doesn’t trust this perpetrator, even if you do so yourself.

If you haven’t guessed, it’s not materialistic offers that elicit his jealousy. A person offering lavish bouquets or gaudy jewelry is not likely to attract his interest. Rather he’ll meet them with a stale, dead pan stare as he tries to fathom why they thought this would ever work on you.

You can expect that as time goes on, Choso is more subjective, a little more tamed than he was in the beginning stages of the relationship. He feel secure in your reassurance, in your sincerity, and the tender reminders you sprinkle to the kiss upon his cheek only furthers his safety. Reaffirms the security in his life, and eases all of his fears from his shoulders, and so, he can for the most part, laugh at any who dare to attempt flirting, knowing fully well that he will savor the elicit rejection your return to such offers. His smile is tucked into the palm of his hand.

No, it’s the simpler approaches. The man who leans in close to whisper into your ear, the way his hand grazes your own, how his eyes meet your own, these are the type of things to have him boiling in range, a lethal aura radiating off him.

It comes without saying that Choso is fiercely protective of those he deems worthy.

It’s not intentional to be resource guarding. Even though it has flitted over to that area. It is in many ways, the genuine side of his nature. He is guided by his concern, by his love, and is rooted in all of the best intentions. He adores you, he worships you. The curse dipped sorcerer yearns for security, to know that all is well in your world, and that you can live without fear—and he will make sure of it.

So much so that, Choso’s protective nature can seize all of his thoughts, and can kidnap all of his senses to a place far out of touch, allowing his desires to shelter to run rampant in its wake.

He will go to extreme lengths to protect those around him and will sacrifice everything to ensure your and those he cares for’s safety. At all costs. He will not hesitate to safeguard what he deems precious.

And because of this, any infringement can be especially ruthless.

In love and a committed relationship, physical touch will be explored with great consideration. He did not dare to approach Yuji with the more explicit stuff, but took the advice for the beginning stages, before being pushed more explicit material by Tuskumo. Oh she delighted in giving him everything in her inventory as well as suggesting specific paragraphs. Yet, you will find that for all of his research, he is almost sloppy in his initial approach.

He’s touched starved, desperately yearning to wrap his fingers around your own, thread his fingers through your hair. To press promises, lifelong promises to your lips as they meet his own. Etch his soul int the press of your skin and succumb to the depth of your cry as everything he has read is out the window. Guided by lust and devotion.

Though at times it can be easily to believe that Choso is only committed to physical touch as a love language because of the sexual nature, and way he gets far too carried away, it could not be further from the reality. He is guided by his deep need for connection. The implied depth of intimacy that comes with this step.

The poison blood wielder is not the sort to simply entertain someone’s bedroom because the need has arisen within him. He’d rather just take care of that himself. The yearning is not something he is unfamiliar with and can easily fend off if need be. Though he wouldn’t dream of spending time alone when you have all his yearning. No, it is the weight of your hand in his own. The significance of causal embraces, the ability to trace the lines at the high of your cheeks.

There is nothing that contents him more than to simply snuggle against you in the dead quiet of the night. The sense of pride and assurance he feels as you tug on his hand in the public streets, or cozy up against him during a winter stroll.

Words of affection do not come naturally to Choso in many ways. The most familiarity he has with the concepts is that of an older brother consoling a younger sibling, and for obvious reasons, this will not fit the bill in a relationship.

Choso is a man of action and believes strongly that the way he handles everything--- the meaningful approaches he takes to pour himself into the other relationship is proof of his devotion, and the concept of having to verbally express this can cause him pause.

There’s a stall as he attempts to navigate the concept of unabashed praise. The first round of attempts will result in muddled sputtering that in no way bears any resemblance to speech. His ears bathed in red, and the way he averts his eyes. As time goes on, he will successfully articulate broken speech patterns to thread together some form of praise, compliments that are sincere, but mangled. Small cracks in his voice, the shy touch of his knuckle against his cheeks as though masking his reaction to his own feeble voice.

It’s extremely difficult for him to articulate his feelings, to offer sweet nothings without pause, and though it may not seem it, he truly is trying. It just may not be as fluid as you desire in a partner. Maybe one day he’ll get there. But he may not.

To be fair, any word of praise you offer him will be delicious, but oh will the response be even more so. If you have a kink for blushing, lay into him.

Gift giving will be… comical.

I’m so sorry, but…

You can imagine that the only experience that he has with gift giving is buying small gifts for his siblings, little pinwheels, stuffed animals, and toy cars that he had witnessed small children playing with on the street. He has no idea what constitutes as a good gift for a lover. He certainly knows what others Tsukumo would recommend in the adult content. But that doesn’t feel right, by any means, and so he is left to lament staring at packages.

Package within each hand, the knot of his brow as he struggles to understand the implied meaning behind each gift. The significance of either, befuddled as he struggles to understand why Tokumo would suggest such options, or what it is they do. Yet, despite the sensual images plastered on each package, he cannot fight the gnawing feeling that this… isn’t right. He can feel the knot that has begun to settle in the base of his throat, choked in frustration as he struggles to determine what would be a good option. Until the pat of a hand meets his back happily, unaware that he had drawn the attention of a sorcerer, Takuma. The grin from ear to ear as he pats his shoulder nonchalantly, never quite grasping the necessity of space in greeting before his eyes fall to the items in his hand. The forced smile of the younger has simply assured Choso, that this isn’t it. And as Takuma muddles through the awkward expression that is fitting on his brow, an inquiry of what he’s up to settles the matter fairly quickly and erases the extreme discomfort from the interaction. Allowing Takuma to simply settle into a reassurance figure that simply nods when Choso expresses his intentions, and pauses with a soft smile. “I think you should pick what feels right.” Easing the explicit images from the man’s hand, and encourages Choso to think on the gift rather than follow another’s suggestion. Following the older being to wander vender to vender, and welcomes the smile that forms on his face when Choso shows what he has found. “I think [LN] would love that.”

It’s always going to be good boy Ino, but were’ here for Choso.

It’s a bubble wand.

His gifts will be small tokens, composed of everything he can recount you sharing with him, small things with a bit of assurance in the beginning that you would never turn down, such things as candy, bubble wands, paint kits, little things that almost seem childish to an extent, but are placed in the sincereness.

In receiving a gift, Choso will keep everything you offer him, even if he doesn’t understand why you would gift him, whatever this is, but he is pleased none the less to accept it. A small smile as he accepts the gift, and holds it with delicate fingers. He’ll treasure it, even if he never uses it properly.

With Choso’s natural care taking tendencies, it’s no surprise that Acts of Servie is not an area that he struggles in. He is in many ways far too devoted to it that he often comes off more micromanagement than affectionate. Yet, the duty he takes to take care of your every wish and need is not one that should be overlooked. He is affectionate, and thoughtful. Quick to pick up extra creamer for your coffee, or your preferred milk [dairy, goat, almond, or even oatmilk], he simply knows you need it for your afternoon tea. I also imagine that he will do his best to try to learn how to navigate this electric kettle, but it will definitely be a few go rounds until he has it right. Maybe a few fires, again he is not accustomed to this modern world. Give him time.

Quality time is Choso’s preferred love language, and one that comes naturally. Any free time he has, he is content to drift into your orbit. Just to remain at your side. Whether you wish to go on an outing, to explore some zoo in the area or theme park, even a movie date, but for Choso, he’s honestly content to just linger nearby as you finish work, or are engulfed in a recent game release. Low key is amazed at your ability to control that little box with blue and red on it. Becomes excited when you offer to teach him, and the press of your front to his back as you guide his fingers.

There really is no struggle to have him spend time with him—he is so eager and forthcoming to gift you every moment he has to offer. Regardless of how you desire to use it. He’s just happy to be near you.

The reality is, to be loved by Choso is to know commitment. It’s to know unwavering devotion that will not fade as eternity claim you. It ‘s sacrifice, it is long hours placed in one another’s care. It is the stern of his voice, a light reprimand as he tenderly cares for a laceration at the side of your cheek. It is adoration verified by the dedication of his presence. The relentless hours he pours himself into the vow of your relationship. It’s gentle touches, the way his fingers curl around a strand of hair as his gaze lingers to your lips. It’s the late hours as his eyes wander your figure, the gentle way he tucks the blanket to your sleeve, and whispers sweet nothings at the marks of his admiration that lingers upon your exposed skin. It’s simple pleasures, small moments of intimacy, and of innocence. To be embraced for childish delights such as playing on a swing, or the meticulous way he weaves arbutus, azalea, orange blossoms, and daffodils into your hair all bearing significance. Strands carefully tucked behind your ear. To know the security that there is no other in this existence for him, to know that an existence without you at his side is meaningful, to know his affection will never stray. Nor will it be claimed by another. Its loyalty laced in every fiber of his being, evident in how his eyes stay upon you. Trace your figure, memorize your laughter, and lean into your touch. It’s love that knows truth, and valor poured into his blood and bones, and bent to security. Into love, into you. To know that you are the son, and he is the delicate sunflower that seeks your gaze.

He will remain by your side.

Regardless of what dangers he faces.

His life is yours to claim.

#choso x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #choso kamo x you #choso kamo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #thesorcerersinarelationship

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Mi Galleta (Part 2 - White Chocolate Macadamia)

7.5K / Modern AU Grumpy Bouncer!Pero Tovar x Sunshine-Rich Girl!reader

Summary: Pero helps you out with a sticky situation at the restaurant and you get to know him better.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please), very minor angst, unwanted physical touching (not from Pero), petnames (Cookie, baby, princesa, etc.), kissing, oral (f receiving), unprotected PiV (discussed), cum eating, reader can wear Pero's jacket and it's long on her, Biker!Pero comes with his own warning.

A/N: I don't know anything about bikes! (Also does anyone have any non-dark biker romance book recs?) Series Masterlist

Pero doesn’t call.  Or text.  Not that night.  Or over the weekend.  By the time the work week rolls around, you make a vow to yourself that you won’t go to visit him during the day unless he does, and consequently you don’t go at all.

Feeling a little hurt, you wonder if maybe you made a bit too much out of what you thought was mutual flirtation.  It was his job, after all, to make it hard to gain access to the restaurant; perhaps he thought that your time together and all your efforts with the cookies and lunches were just a means to an end, and that once you were successful, desire on either of your parts to interact should cease.  That thought makes you even sadder; even though you were trying to find a way upstairs, your daily meet ups with Pero had become more - you had liked him.  He was gruff for sure, but you had enjoyed getting to know him and the discovery that he seemed to be softer than he appeared.  You had thought he enjoyed getting to know you as well.

“I’m sorry he didn’t call, babe,” Dorothy laments, giving you a big hug.

“It’s okay,” you pout, crushed, “…maybe I read too much into it.”

“You’re always so sweet, giving people the benefit of the doubt,” says Eloise, “He really ought to have messaged.”

“Do you think… you would be up for going to Lin?  To eat and drink, I mean,” Dorothy asks, sheepishly.

“Dorothy!!” exclaims Eloise, “We agreed not to-”

“Not to what?” you ask, curious.

The two women look at each other; Eloise looking exasperated and Dorothy trying to look innocent. “Okay, out with it,” you grin.

“So… you know how my friends from college are coming in from out of town this weekend?  I thought… it might be nice to take them to Lin!  It’s this super hot restaurant, still so exclusive, and the food was soooo good last week!  We all loved it!  And they have that extended cocktails list we said we wanted to try, remember?  I feel like it would be such a perfect place to take them!” Dorothy finishes in a hurry.

“You’re right,” you say softly.  You would have given Pero a similar rave review if you had had a chance, “They would love it.  You should totally take them there.”

“The thing is…” Dorothy chews her lower lip, which is generally a sign that she knows she’s about to ask something completely unreasonable, “… we still don’t know how to get it.  Just because we got in once, does that mean we automatically get in again?  Regardless… our chances of getting in or even just finding out how to are probably better if… you’re there?” 

Eloise shoots Dorothy a death glare.

“…but if you rather not see the bouncer guy… it’s totally okay,” Dorothy adds on quickly.

You sigh, but it’s not one of exasperation but of indulgence.  You know if you refuse, the girls would truly let it go, never holding it against you.  But… it’s also such a simple thing for you to do, you can’t really find it within yourself not to acquiesce.  You’ve always been this way: not a people pleaser per say (it’s not in your nature to do anything that truly makes you uncomfortable or against your character), but genuinely happy to extend yourself for others.  If you were to really analyze things, it’s probably that deep down you feel that with the advantages you’ve been afforded, your true grievances in life are little to none; the little things that may be troublesome to you are nothing compared to life’s real misfortunes that you’ve been lucky enough to have avoided.  Why not help if you can, your grateful heart always asks.

And, it’s not like you have to see Pero for more than a minute or two. 

“Ok, we can go,” you smile.  The way Dorothy’s face breaks into an expression of pure joy confirms for you that you’re doing a good thing.  Eloise is a little more cautious; she triple-checks with you later that you’re sure, and you reassure her that you really, truly are.

Pero recognizes Dorothy right away when she strides into the building lobby.  She’s heading up a good-sized group, maybe seven or eight people, and he’s hoping that you’re among the crowd.  As the rest of the party starts to file into the elevator bank, his heart leaps when he sees you bringing up the rear. 

You make brief eye contact with Pero as you pass his desk; the look in your eyes unreadable, but he thinks they’re missing a brightness he’s used to.  Pero wants to talk to you, ask you how you’ve been.  Tell you it’s only been a week but he’s missed you.  Apologize for not calling.  But then he sees Paul’s hand on the small of your back, guiding you after the group.  As he follows, he can’t take his eyes off the sway of your hips and the way this guy is touching you with such familiarity.  Who is this guy, anyways?  Is he your date?  Your boyfriend?

Seething, he reaches in the elevator to swipe the fob and press the button to the restaurant floor, keeping eye contact with you as he wordlessly steps back out into the hall.  You can’t look away from Pero either; you’re not sure if this is the scowl he normally wears to maintain his bouncer authority or if he’s genuinely displeased.

“Man, I’d love a mindless, easy job.  Thanks, pal,” chirps Paul.

You nearly snap your neck turning your head so quickly, unbelieving of Dorothy’s old classmate’s rudeness.  It seems that everyone but Paul takes notice of your horrified expression; you turn to face Pero again, hopefully conveying an apologetic look as the elevator doors close.

---

Pero decides he’s done for the evening.  He calls in someone to cover the rest of his shift and goes upstairs to clock out.  He saw via the computer that you and your friends have been seated in a private room, and he’s sure that you’re in for a fun night of cocktails and good food, maybe even some dancing – he’s not in the mood to see you come downstairs after a night a reverie with that smarmy guy hanging all over you.  Who the hell was that asshole?

Getting his backpack, Pero exchanges his suit jacket for a motorcycle jacket before going by the kitchens to say goodnight to the kitchen and wait staff.  That’s when he spots you.  You’ve tucked yourself against the wall at the very end of the kitchen serving window where the overhang of the counter creates a little nook you’re sinking into.  Pero watches you play on your phone, periodically looking up and scanning the hallway that leads back to the dining room, and that’s when he realizes you’re hiding here.  He can’t think of anything down this way for restaurant goers: there are no patron washrooms, and you don’t appear to be in need of any assistance – there are plenty of staff coming and going but you haven’t made any movement to flag anyone down for help.

Pero takes a moment to admire how beautiful you look tonight; maybe even prettier than he remembers.  Despite not knowing where the two of you stand, he doesn’t think he can pass up this opportunity to speak to you; and although he’s finding your somewhat squirrely behaviour to be adorable, he tells himself that it’s his gentlemanly duty to make sure you’re okay.  Never mind that the dress you’re wearing is doing wonders for your curves, and absolutely nothing for his self control. 

“How come you’re hiding by the kitchen?”

Surprised by Pero’s sudden appearance, you answer a little bit haughtier than you intend, “I’m not hiding!”

“You are!” He can’t help but be playful with you, “Why else would you be tucked away down this-” Pero cuts himself off; he’s just noticed that you’re fidgeting with the hemline of your dress, and not just tugging it down, but wrapping your fingers around a large piece of torn fabric, “How did your dress get ripped?”

You look up at him, eyes wide; you didn't realize it was that noticeable.

“Who did that, Cookie?” Pero’s voice is tight, barely masking his anger, but his eyes are soft, full of concern, “Are you okay?”

Suddenly you don’t care that he didn’t call - Pero’s here now and he looks like he’s about to kill someone for you; maybe that’s why you drop the hem of your dress and reach for him.  When your hand connects with his chest, it feels so solid and comforting; your body automatically follows, wrapping your arms around his waist and laying your head against his chest.  Though caught off guard by your actions, Pero instinctively takes you into his arms, pulling you in close; he brings his lips to your hair and rubs your back soothingly.

“What happened, Cookie?” he asks again when you pull away to look at him with your beautiful, shining eyes, “Who do I have to hurt?”

“Don’t hurt anyone, please.  It’s not worth it,” you lay your head back on Pero’s chest.

“Will you tell me what happened?”

You nod, but you seem tired.

“There’s a little terrace where some of us go to take breaks, you want to talk there?” Pero offers.  A quiet spot sounds lovely to you.

Pero keeps his arms encircled protectively around you as he guides you past the kitchens, through what looks like the staff locker room and lounge and onto an adjoining terrace, “No one will bother you here, Cookie.  I promise.”  You sigh comfortably as you take a seat on the patio seating; Pero takes the suit jacket he was wearing earlier out from his backpack and drapes it over your shoulders.

You smile at him gratefully, his presence alone relaxing you.  Pero waits for you to tell him what happened; he doesn’t press or push, just sits across from you and holds your small hands in his.

Taking in a deep breath of fresh air, you feel finally comfortable enough to fill Pero in, “The group I’m with tonight, most of them are Dorothy’s friends from college.  They’re fun and nice enough, but there’s this one guy that’s always been a bit handsy.”

Pero’s eyes darken as you continue, “Dorothy, Eloise and I call it ‘octopus hands’.  Just always touching and trying to grab.  Suckers for hands practically. He’s been like this every time we get together with that group, which thankfully is not very often.  Anyways, I had had enough of having to dodge him, so I pushed him away… he grabbed onto my dress and it ripped.  It was an accident.”  You shrug, as if describing the actions of a petulant child.

“And you were hiding from him because you think he might try something?  Get aggressive?”  If he were an animal, you would definitely describe Pero’s hackles as being up. 

You chuckle, “No, I told you I’m not hiding!  I’m avoiding the room.  It’s totally different.”

“Is that so?” smiles Pero.

“I’m trying to avoid the room because I don’t want to try to act like I’m not pissed.  Pretend like things are cool, because that feels annoying to do and I probably won’t be able to do a very good job at it if I’m being honest.  And then there would be a scene,” you say, making a face.

“You don’t think Dorothy will take your side?”

You wave off this concern, “Oh no, I’m not worried about that.  She’s got my back.  And I’ll definitely tell her about it, but I don’t think it’s the right time right now: in front of other people that are friends with Paul, and where everyone has been drinking.  I’d rather not put myself or Dorothy in that position.”

Pero admires the care you’re showing for your friends; if you appeared more upset or avoidant of what had happened, he might gently push you to ignore their feelings and give yourself more consideration.  As it is, you seem fairly in control of your feelings and the situation, so he doesn’t push.

“So, I was just waiting by the kitchens and thought I would go back in with our food when it was ready.  That way I would have something to focus on… instead of punching him in the face,” you finish.

“I’d like to have seen that,” grins Pero, “Is this the same guy who was touching you in the elevator?  The one who wanted an ‘easy job’?”

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry about that, Pero.  That was so unbelievably offensive, I was ready to sock him then.  Yeah, that’s Paul.  I’m sorry,” you look pained at the memory of Paul’s rudeness.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, Cookie.  Glad to know that’s not the kind of guy you go for.”

“Nope,” you scrunch you nose up good-naturedly, “I only go for guys who take my number but don’t ever text or call.”

“Oh princesa, I’m so sorry.  I wanted to text, I really tried… I can’t find your number in my phone,” Pero looks down, embarrassed.

“What do you mean?”

Pero unlocks his phone and holds it out opened to the Contacts app, “I looked under your name, then I tried ‘Cookie’, then I just started looking for different cookies: Chocolate Chip, Sugar, Ginger Molasses… I couldn’t find you.”

You take the phone from him and look at him dubiously but ultimately decide that he’s being sincere, “I put it under the cookie emoji.”

“The emoji? Where is it?” Pero really couldn’t look more confused.

Scrolling to the bottom of his contacts list, you show him it’s under ‘#’ and you when you pull it up, the top of the screen displays the silly selfie you took as the contact photo.

“Oh, Cookie… I feel so dumb.  I’m sorry,” Pero looks so much like a dog that’s been scolded that you soften and forgive him immediately. “I should have just texted you right away when you gave it to me,” he types out a quick message and sends it with a whoosh. 

When the notification comes in, you look down at your phone:  I’m sorry.  Forgive me, Cookie? :(

You laugh so hard.  Who would have thought that the scary bouncer with the menacing scar over his eye could be so adorable.  And sweet.  And protective.  And hot.  Your body moves with a mind of its own; to answer his question, you close the space between the two of you and kiss him.

Pero doesn’t know how it’s possible, but your lips are sweeter than your cookies.  He kisses you back softly at first, a gentle introduction of your mouths as he becomes increasingly familiar with the plush feel of your lips, the curve of your soft smile.  When your mouth relaxes into a sigh, followed by an oh, he presses deeper, tongue seeking an invitation; as you open up for him, he pulls you closer and lets his tongue do the talking, saying all the words that he wasn’t able to this past week.  Your hands wrap around his neck and thread through Pero’s hair as you let out a soft hum of contentment; Pero smiles at the sound and strokes your tongue with his a few more times before pulling off your lips, chasing after them with a couple of light pecks.  Opening your eyes, you answer with a flutter of soft kisses to the corner of his upturned mouth before snuggling in under his jaw, “You’re forgiven.”

“Do you want to get out of here, princesa?”

You begin to nod but then stop yourself, “Oh, I would love to, Pero, but… I already ordered and I wouldn’t want that food to go to waste.  Also, do you think I could just pay for it separate so I don’t stick the others with the bill?  Still… it would be a waste.  I hate food waste.  Plus, I can’t just ghost Dorothy and Eloise… I have to at least say good bye…”

“What did you order?” Pero asks, simply.

“The Chilean sea bass.  Oooh noooo… just thinking about it is making my mouth water.  Ok, I’ll admit it, I don’t want to leave because I want to eat it so badly,” you joke.

“Will you let me take care of it, Cookie?”  You nod even though you don’t know what he means to do.

“I’ll be 5-10 minutes, you can stay out here or in the lounge if you want.  No need to hide by the kitchen.”

“I wasn’t hiding,” you smile as Pero bends down to kiss you lightly.

“Fine, you can avoid in here if you want.  I’ll be back soon, hermosa,” and he leaves before you can ask about this new nickname that he’s added to the ever-growing roster.

When Pero is gone, you check your phone and see a few messages from the girls:

Where did you go?

Are you okay?

Was Paul being weird?

You type back a quick response: I’m fine!  Yes, he was being a weirdo!  But Pero found me, so…

A string of exclamation points and celebratory gif responses come in in quick succession.  You’re giggling and typing out responses as fast as you can when Pero returns with a heavy paper bag in his hand, “It’s all taken care of, princesa.”

You peek in the bag while Pero puts on his backpack, “I didn’t order all that.”

“I have to eat too, you know,” Pero pretends to scowl at you before kissing you quickly, “plus there’s a few appies and a dessert thrown in there, too.”

“Can… I pay?” It looks like a full feast.

“Don’t worry about it, Cookie.  Staff perk.” 

Not sure you believe him, you look at Pero skeptically, but he cups your face with his hands and strokes your cheek gently before giving you a deep kiss that leaves you dizzy, so you decide to just go with it.

“Ready to go say goodbye to your friends?”  Nodding, you take Pero’s outstretched hand; he gives your hand a reassuring squeeze before leading you back to the dining room your friends are in. 

When you walk through the door, Pero drops your hand in favour of curling his palm around your waist protectively and walking a step behind you like a watchful guard dog.  You can only imagine the glower on his face as the room quiets and everyone stares at you; you would roll your eyes and laugh if not for the fact that you see Paul get up from his seat, only to sit down immediately with one glare from Pero. 

“I’m going to go, babes,” you say apologetically when Dorothy and Eloise come to give you hugs.  They both give you big smiles and so many kisses, never begrudging you for leaving – their only request that you promise to text when you make it home.  Blowing them kisses and waving to everyone, even Paul, you breeze out of the room tucked under Pero’s arm with his lips pressed to your hair. 

In the elevator on the way down, Pero helps you button up his jacket that you still have draped over your shoulders before pulling you in by his collar for another searing kiss that lasts the entire way to the ground floor; still light headed from his affection, it takes you a moment to register that he’s walking you towards to a sports bike parked just outside the doors.  Pero is pulling a black bike helmet out of his backpack when you stutter, “We’re going on that?”

“You ever been on a bike before, Cookie?” Pero smirks.

You shake your head, shyly, “Just scooters and stuff… never… a crotch rocket.”

Pero laughs uproariously, “I’ll take good care of you, I promise.”  And you believe him.

Taking a walk around the bike, you can’t help but admire its sleek design as you run your fingers over the letters on the front frame.  Even though the engine is off, you can feel the bike’s power emanating off the metal; you don’t know anything about bikes, but you can appreciate a well-designed machine when you see one.  You can tell that a lot of care and time has been poured into this vehicle - loving upkeep and carefully selected mods (even though you have no idea what those would be); this motorcycle is clearly a labour of love and you’re starting to feel excited about getting to take a ride on it.  Pero watches you as you take in his bike, appreciating the way your gentle fingers skim over the frame, the handlebars, and then the seat of his Ducati; he spies the glint in your eyes go from trepidation, to awe, to excitement and suddenly he can’t wait to take you out on the open road.

“How do I get on?” 

Pero points to the little foot peg over the back wheel and holds out his arm to help you up.  You’re incredibly grateful for the extra coverage from the length of Pero’s jacket as you grab a hold of Pero’s steady forearm, hike up your left leg to step on the foot peg and swing yourself over the backseat as you would a horse.  Planting your foot firmly on the peg on the other side of the bike, you immediately close your legs; you’re almost thankful for the rip in your dress since it provides you with a little more give to spread you legs over the smooth back seat slant without flashing everyone on the street.  As it is, your dress is hiked up near the top of your thighs and you’re depending on the flaps of Pero’s jacket for some semblance of modesty.  Pero is kneeling next to the bike putting the food in his backpack when he sees you drop your foot from the peg and let your bare leg dangle down, lightly swinging it without your heels ever touching the ground.  He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything sexier in his whole life.  You’re using both your hands to hold your dress to the seat, leaning forward following the natural decline of the seat and smiling broadly at him, “Where are we going?”

Straightening up, Pero grins, “I can take you anywhere you like, princesa.  If you want to go home and have dinner by yourself, I’ll take you.  But if you’re up for it, we can go to a nice terrace with a view and have ourselves a little picnic?”

You nod at that option and bite your lip a little at how cute Pero looks as he puts on his backpack so it sits on his front like a baby carrier.  Then he does something a little unexpected: he reaches out with his helmet in both hands and holds it over your head, “Cookie, I only have one helmet, so this will have to do, okay?”  When you nod, Pero slowly lowers the helmet over your head then pops open the visor so you can still see him as he adjusts the strap under your chin.  It’s not bad but there’s definitely a little room for your head to wobble around; the inside of the helmet smells vaguely like Pero’s cologne and you feel a warmth spread through you as breath his scent in – when Pero leans back to inspect his handiwork, you give a little giggle and wobble you head around, “I’m a bobblehead.”

Pero laughs and reaches in through the visor opening to pinch your nose, “Ok, when we’re riding, keep your legs on the pegs and hold on to me tight, okay?  If anything’s wrong, tap my arm, and if you want me to slow down, tap my leg.  Ready?”

You give him a big smile that you’re not sure he can see and an enthusiastic thumbs up; before Pero flips down the helmet visor, he definitely sees your bright eyes shining with excitement.  Even though he knows you’re perfectly capable, he makes a show of helping raise your leg up and placing your foot back on the foot peg.  One of his strong hands holds onto your ankle while the other gently runs up your calf and brushes your knee, sending a shiver down your spine.  When Pero repeats the action with your other leg, you let him have complete control to handle and position you any way he wants and he feels his crotch start with how good it feels to have you soft and pliant in his hands.  Once satisfied with your positioning, Pero skates his hand up your thigh, skirting your raised hemline, and when he gives you a light squeeze to let you know he’s done, you inhale sharply and clench down on nothing. 

After Pero swings his leg over the frame of the bike and puts on his gloves, he waits for you to wrap your arms securely around his middle before starting the ignition.  As the bike roars to life, you give a little squeal of delight that Pero can hear even through the helmet and he smiles to himself.  Revving the engine a few times for effect, he takes off carefully but still feels you grip him tighter as you’re jerked back slightly; he can’t say he’s sorry.  Picking up speed as he weaves through the streets, he feels you rest your helmet on his upper back and his chest swells at how easily you’re taking to riding.

After about 15 minutes, Pero pulls up to another office building and cuts the engine.  Helping you take off the helmet, he finds you giddy with a big smile on your face; as you smooth down your hair, you exclaim, “That was so much fun!!”  The ride had been thrilling; you know Pero wasn’t going that fast for your sake, but you found the rush of the wind blowing past you and the freedom and danger of being so open on the road to be exhilarating all on its own.  The hum of the engine had been an unexpected comfort and the vibrations of motor reverberating through you had kept you alert and excited throughout your short journey.  Not to mention that being so close to Pero and his warmth, sinking in to the feeling of security he provides, has you turned on and tingling.  Finding your enthusiasm infectious, Pero helps you off the bike and leads you up to the building to which he gains access with a swipe of a fob he produces from his jacket pocket.

“You have one of those fobs for every building in the city?” you tease.

Pero puts his finger to his lips, “Restaurant industry secret, shhhhh,” he says with a twinkle in his eye.

A short elevator ride later, Pero brings you to an empty terrace with a beautiful view of the city lights; you gaze around in awe as he starts laying out the food.

It’s a wonderfully romantic dinner.  The conversation flows easily, and you learn a little more about your grouchy bouncer.  You’re only initially surprised to learn that William, the restaurant manager and sometimes host, is Pero’s best friend, and that the two of them have worked together for years at various different restaurants.  Remembering William’s easy smile and friendly demeanor from when he sat your party both of the times you’ve dined at Lin, you giggle at the obvious dichotomy between the two friends.  If only potential restaurant patrons knew that big golden retriever energy awaited them at the end of the elevator ride should they make it past the scary Cerebus downstairs.  When Pero asks you what you’re laughing at, you simply ask him if he and William have always worked their current roles; apparently not - they both started out as bus boys and worked their way through the kitchen, though Pero’s never had the inclination to work front of house the way William has.  “You don’t say,” you jest, to which Pero gives you his most fearsome glare.  You’re not the least bit intimidated, especially when he follows up with the gentlest forehead kiss.

Between bites of the mouthwatering sea bass, you’re happy to discover that in addition to a common love of food, you and Pero have also both travelled extensively; to your mutual delight, you realize that somehow, you’ve eaten at some of the same restaurants in Europe and Asia.  When you both claim to know the best udon shop in Toyko, you agree to say the name at the same time - doubling over in laughter when you both name the same hole-in-the-wall in Shinjuku.  Throughout the easy flowing conversation, Pero finds ways to stay close and you welcome his every touch: a caress of your hair near the ear, a stroke of your knee under the table, a kiss to your hand.  With the sun now fully set and the chilly evening air giving you goosebumps, Pero pulls you close to his side - tucking your bare legs in between his to keep you warm as you finish dessert.  Pero looks into your eyes with longing as you both savour the last bites of the rich lychee flavoured flan.  When he helps wipe away an errant sugar smudge near the corner of your mouth with his thumb, he brings his face so close to yours that you’re caught short of breath.  He really is so handsome, you think before his mouth descends on yours and you get lost in the way he licks and softly groans into you.  Your tongue chases his as you open for him, and you gasp when Pero, palm under your ass, pulls you into his lap fully one handedly. 

Wrapping you arms around Pero’s neck to run your hands through his hair, you moan as his hands roam your back, pulling you closer against him still.  The kissing is downright urgent: a mirage of open mouths, panting, devouring.  Needing air, and a break if you’re honest with how close you are to just sinking down on him on this terrace, you bite down on Pero’s lower lip and nibble a little before murmuring, “Pero, please take me home.”

Pero’s eyes never leave you the entire time the two of you pack away the containers and make your way back to his bike, his look dark and wanting.  If he takes his time helping you on the bike, letting his hands trail up and down your legs, eyes lingering on yours before he flips down the visor, who can blame him.  If you press yourself tight against his back while he weaves through the streets, inching your hands lower and lower on his torso, seeking out his upper thigh for purchase when he accelerates, who can blame you.

By the time Pero parks in front of your building, the thrill of the ride and the hum of the bike between your legs has only amplified your want; you’re positively dripping for him.  You can barely keep your hands to yourself on the elevator ride up and Pero is on top of you the moment your front door closes.  Your hands fly to take off his jacket, his shirt, reaching down to frantically unbutton his pants without shame; stopped only when he insists on undressing you first, growling, “Need to take this dress off, hermosa.  Don’t want you wearing anything another man has touched for a minute longer.”

You step right in Pero’s space, locking desperate eyes with him as he reaches behind you to undo your zipper; he drags it down slower than necessary, drawing out the process.  When you whine at how long it’s taking, Pero chuckles, “Patience, princesa,” before pulling the zipper down the rest of the way and letting the fabric slip over your shoulders and pool around your feet.

“Holy shit, Cookie,” Pero breathes as he takes in your matching black lace lingerie set, “I think my heart just stopped.”  Suddenly shy under his gaze, you turn away to lead him to the bedroom, but he stops you and pulls you back so suddenly you crash into his chest.  Holding you flushed against him by a strong hand on the back of your neck, Pero uses his free hand to tip your chin up to look at him, murmuring, “You’re so beautiful,” before kissing you like his life depends on it.  His lips crush to yours, tongue mapping every slope and dip of your mouth, his one hand now gently gripping your neck under your jaw - caging you within his hands so that you’re left to the mercy of his desire.  One rough palm moves down your body to explore all your soft curves, lightly groping and claiming all the spots that make you moan into his mouth.  Pero walks you slowly to the couch in the middle of your living room so gradually you don’t even notice until the back of your legs hit the cushions.  He releases you at this same moment so that the soft impact has you toppling back, sat on the couch with a light bounce; you can only watch with lust hooded eyes as Pero lowers himself down to the floor onto his knees in front of you. 

“Pero,” you whisper, needy.

“I’ve got you, princesa,” breath hot, Pero kisses down your neck, hands holding your legs open so he can slot his wide frame between, getting as close to your body as possible. 

“Ohhhh, god, Pero… baby,” you whimper as his mouth worships your neck, nipping at your décolletage, then licking a wet stripe down to the valley between your breasts.  When his hands abandon their grip on your thighs to trail up, cupping your breasts, you can’t help but buck into his abdomen, seeking more of him.  Face buried in your chest, Pero chuckles, “Such an eager, pretty girl.  Tell me what you need, Cookie.”

Pulling down the cups of your lace bra so that your tits spill out, Pero gropes you roughly before his fingers zero in your nipples, alternating rolling, pinching and tugging on your peaks in an excruciating delicious pattern.  Smiling devilishly at you, “I’m waiting, princesa.”

“Fuc- oh, Pero, please.  Please.  Need your mouth, please,” you plead, desperation lacing every word. 

Without warning, Pero dips his head to take a breast in his mouth, and you gasp in pleasure, hands flying to bury themselves in his hair to grip his soft curls as his nibbles and swirls your hardened nipple.  Back arching off the back of the couch, you try to muffle you moans as Pero’s efforts with his mouth and hands electrify you to your core, heat pooling in your underwear. 

“Don’t do that, hermosa.  Want to hear you, want to hear what I do to you,” Pero comes off your breast with an obscenely wet smack of his lips before switching over to your neglected breast, his hand taking over for where his mouth left off.

“OH!  Pero, feels so good!  Right there, oh, ow!  Oh god, yessss,” the sting of Pero’s attention on your peaks only adding to your ecstasy.  Pero uses your lifted back to his advantage, his free hand now able to claw down your spine, grabbing and massaging your ass.  Having his hands so close to your pussy is sending you out of your mind; Pero’s hands and mouth seem to be everywhere at once and you don’t know what to focus on.  It’s almost too much and you gently push him away so you can catch your breath; the dopey, shit-eating grin he gives you tells you that he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. 

He does know, and Pero’s damn proud of it.  He’s never seen anything sexier in his life than you splayed out in front of him with eyes glassy from near over stimulation, tits pulled out of your bra and lightly bouncing as you pant, all while you pussy tries to grind down onto him for some friction.  He’s rock hard and he hasn’t even tasted you yet. 

Pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, swollen from where you bit them to keep yourself from crying out, Pero moves back slightly so he can admire you some more.  He can’t believe he’s here right now, that he gets to be the one that makes you feel this good; another smaller, possessive part of him triumphs that Paul never stood a chance - that you were always going to be his tonight.  And now he’s about to show you he’s worthy.

When you look back down at Pero with a lazy grin, breathing more even, Pero presses forward, “I’m going to taste you now, okay Cookie?”  Your soft ‘yes, please’, is all Pero needs to hear before he dives forward towards your dripping core.  Pressing hungry kisses over your panties, Pero growls when he feels the soaked through fabric on his tongue, “So fucking wet, princesa.  Is this all for me?”  All you can do is moan in assent as Pero continues to make out with your pussy.  His mouth never leaving you, Pero tugs off your underwear; tossing the wet scrap of lace aside to reveal your glistening cunt.  Running his fingers through your folds to spread your arousal up and over your clit, he takes a moment to drink in your near pornographic sounds before he lowers his mouth and positively feasts. 

You’re entire being feels like it’s been lit up.  Pero’s tongue presses against your seam, dipping in and out, teasing you with broad strokes and indulgent swirls.  His nose nudges at your clit over and over, as his entire head moves up and down, focused only on bringing you pleasure.  You think he’s giving you a break to collect yourself when he butterfly kisses up to your now throbbing clit, but reprieve is the furthest thing from Pero’s mind.  Just as you’re crying out his name in a heavenly melody, he breaches your tight hole with two of his thick fingers and seals your clit in between his lips and sucks.  You squirm, trying to get away from the sudden onslaught, but Pero lays his other arm across your stomach to hold you down so that all you can do is take, take, take.

“I-I-. I’m so close, Pero.  Ohhhh nghhhh, baby, ohhh, so c-close,” you’re simpering, eyes closed and head thrown back, desperate for more while simultaneously sure you can’t handle it. 

“Open your eyes, princesa.  Eyes on me while I eat your perfect pussy,” Pero commands, nuzzling your aching clit with the tip of his nose to get your attention.  When you look down, you lock eyes with Pero as his takes your nub between his lips again, lightly flicking his tongue while his curls bouncing against his forehead from the force with which his fingers drive into you.  When you grab onto his hair and pull him deeper into you, he hums his approval and the vibration does you in, you step off the cliff and let go as your orgasm washes over you, wave after wave.  Pero continues to finger fuck you through your high while rising on one knee to palm at your neglected tits and kiss you long and tender. 

“Oh, Pero. Ohhh, that was- oh god,” you can barely string together your words; you’re completely wrung out and spent.  You’re now Pero’s pliable fuck doll, good and ready for his cock and not much else. He lifts your legs and maneuvers you into a laying position on the couch and it’s all you can do to try and keep your eyes open while you wait for him undo his pants and free his hard cock.  He’s magnificent: long with an impressive girth, a thick perfect vein runs along the underside of his length, ending at a bulbous weeping head; you want to feel the heft of him on your tongue.  Your hunger must show in your eyes and the way your plush lips instinctively part because Pero chuckles, “Another time, Cookie.  Right now, I’m going crazy every second I’m not in this tight cunt.”  He looks around the room looking for his backpack to get a condom, when, as if you’re reading his mind, you offer dreamily, “Pero, I’m clean.  If you want…”

His dick jumping at your words, Pero want you to be certain, “I’m clean too, hermosa.  Are you sure?”

“Want to feel you, baby,” your eyes dark with lust, “Fuck me bare, Pero.”

How’s he supposed to last when you have a mouth like that? “Fuck, princesa,” he breathes as he runs his tip through your dripping folds, adding to the sheen of leftover slick he transferred from his fingers; Pero fists his cock and coats it in your release to ready himself for your tight hole.  Hovering over you, he lines himself up to your entrance and captures your mouth in a passionate kiss as he slowly pushes in.  Every quick inhale of air you take to replace what he pushes out of your lungs is music to Pero’s ears.  Your tight walls almost choke him as he feels you spread your legs further, one leg now dangling off the edge of the couch in order to accommodate his size.  Pero is remiss to leave your lips, but he’s unable to resist the temptation to lean back and watch your face as you take his full length.  You hold his gaze amid your lust-filled haze, a blissed-out smile spreads across your beautiful face that cracks only when you lips form a soft ‘oh’ before relaxing again; Pero is hypnotized by this pattern repeating itself over and over as he pushes in deeper into your cunt.  When he finally bottoms out, you let out a breathy ‘Fuck’ before pulling him in for a slow and patient, soul affirming kiss.

Full. You feel so full.  “Taking me so well, princesa.  God you feel so perfect around my cock,” purrs Pero,  peppering your face and neck with soft, soothing kisses; waiting for your go ahead to move.  When you give it, he starts slow; dragging his cock nearly all the way out, before pushing back in with the same tempered control – you reward him with a call of his name and praise on how good it feels to be split open.  Over and over, he thrusts into you with the restraint of saint until he feels your arousal start to drown his cock, and only then does he pick up the pace; you wrap your legs around his back, heels digging into his back to press him deeper, encouraging him to fuck you harder until he’s driving his cock into your cunt with a force that punches the air out of your lungs every time.  His grunts combined with his filthy words affirming how you were made for him, how he wants to stay buried in you, how you’re creaming so pretty around him, push you closer and closer to your edge again.

Snaking his hand between your bodies to toy with your sensitive clit, Pero feels you clenching down, “Come for me, Cookie.  You look so perfect when you come, need to see you come on my cock.”  You want to please him so.  You’ll give him everything he asks for, so long as he never stops looking at you the way he is right now: wrecked, desperate, devoted.  Doubling down on his attention to your pulsating bud, Pero draws perfect circles with his thumbs as he continues to rut into you with abandon, chasing both of your releases.  This time, when you come, your back lifts off the couch and Pero catches you, pulling you close as you shout out his name over and over into his shoulder, biting down and sucking into his skin so to muffle the string of obscenities rolling off your tongue.

The sting of pain from your teeth brings Pero to his precipice, and he manages to choke out, “Where do you want me, princesa,” before laying you down gently and pulling out.  Still lightheaded and cock drunk, you gaze through your lashes at Pero and almost shy, request, “Paint my tits please, Pero.”

Fisting himself furiously, the timidness of your tone in contrast to the lewdness of your words sends a tightness through Pero’s whole body right before he jerks and splashes ropes of cum all over your pretty breasts.

When he’s done, he steps off from over you and kneels by your head, kissing you appreciatively.  He reaches to grab a box of tissues but when he offers them to you, you giggle and swipe your fingers through his milky spend and pop your fingers in your mouth, sucking them clean.  Pero feels his softening dick make a valiant attempt to jump back to life as he watches you clean every last drop of his cum from your chest, licking your fingers and swallowing with a hum.  After he helps you up to your feet, you cup Pero’s face in your hands, stroking his scruff with your thumbs, and he melts under your tender affections.  “Stay over?” you look up, doe eyed. 

Grabbing you at your waist and sweetly kissing you as he walks you backwards toward the bedroom, Pero grins wickedly, “Of course, Cookie.  I’m not done with you yet.”

#pero tovar #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar fic #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #modern!pero tovar #modern au #no y/n

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Idk if this is ok but can I sent honmei choco to male Raven from the April fool’s day event ;u; (yes my thirst for Da Boi transcends dimensions) “Raven-kun!! Hi, hello!! Fancy seeing you here. I wished really hard to meet you again and I think my wish has been granted! I don’t know if you even remember little ol’ me but I remember you. I missed you more than I care to admit and, well, I made these truffles thinking of you but not knowing if I could ever deliver them. So um h-here. Be mine?”

This ask was an old one from 2022's Sweet on You/Love is in the Air Valentine's Day themed blog event! The idea was to send chocolates to your desired boy. I missed the chance to reply to this one for April Fools in 2023 so I figured I'd get it out in honor of this year's April 1st!

For people who are confused about this character 💀 There was a joke event called “Raven Redux”, which featured the reader (you!) being transported to a genderbent AU. A male Raven Crowley (my OC + blog’s mascot) then helps the reader find a way to their home universe. He ended up being uh... pretty popular?

Even if it's just for a little while... Let's return to that other world!

***Art is by tinyfantasminha!***

“A dream is a wish your heart makes.”

That was what the headmaster had told you when you came to him with your troubles. A gaping hole in your chest, a longing that had yet to be fulfilled. Crowley had looked at you with pity, warbling as he smoothed a hand over your head.

“Speak your most heartfelt dream, your wish, to the Mirror of Darkness, and it shall take you there… to him.”

Now here you stood before the portal between places… and worlds. You hugged a box of truffles to your chest and took a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut. Your reflection rippled in the mirror—then wildly distorted once you plunged into it.

A sharp exhale as coldness enveloped you. All the air from your lungs expelled, as if you were screaming with all your might, even if no words ever left your lips.

Your feet met solid ground.

You slowly opened your eyes.

The attic.

You were in Raven’s attic, her nest, her humble abode. A place built of papers and ink, tomes and tales. But was it the right Raven?

You steadily approached the feathered figure seated behind the writing desk. Each step as quiet as a mouse. No matter the Raven, you didn’t wish to disturb their creative process.

They reclined with a sigh, head draped over the top rail of their chair.

That’s…

A cap of midnight fell over his haughty face. Dark blue makeup colored closed lids, decorative dots lining his lower lashes. And there, dangling from his pointed right ear, was a golden feather earring.

He seemed set deep in thought, taking no heed of you. Willowy limbs splayed out, his vest generously opened to display the rise and fall of his chest. Dreaming, perhaps.

It was as though he was a sleeping prince encased in glass coffin. Awaiting his special someone to sweep him off his feet.

It’s him.

You cleared your throat—rousing him from his rest. He bolted upward, swiveling in your direction. His eyes were wide with alarm.

“Raven-kun!! Hi, hello!!” you called out with a bashful wave. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“You’re…!” He stopped himself, reining in his shock and replacing it with what he hoped was casual coldness. “What are you doing here, worm?!”

You giggled nervously. “I wished really hard to meet you again and I think my wish has been granted! I don’t know if you even remember little ol’ me but I remember you.”

“… By the Seven, you’re absolutely hopeless,” Raven muttered.

He drew himself up from his seat. You yelped, taking a step back. It had been too long; you’d forgotten just how tall he was compared to your typical Raven.

“My memory isn’t that bad,” he scoffed. “How could I forget the fool who dared to tread in my territory and then groveled at my feet for assistance? In any case, it looks as though you’ll be needing it a second time.

“Wishing to see me again like this, reliving that old story… You must be truly desperate, hmm?”

Ah, yes. There it was—his silver tongue, sharpened for use as a bladed weapon. A dishonest defense.

Your chest fluttered.

“I missed you more than I care to admit,” you confessed, cheeks warming, “and, well, I made these truffles thinking of you but not knowing if I could ever deliver them.”

You held out the box of truffles to him.

“So, um… h-here.”

“This is…” Raven hesitated. “A heart-shaped box secured with a sparkling ribbon, with chocolates inside… It’s the sort of thing gifted to long-held crushes and lovers. You… You’re not being serious, are you?”

But you nodded, refuting him.

“I’m totally serious about you, Raven-kun,” you declared, your voice trembling. “B-Be mine?”

Surprise flickered through his face. Subtle, fleeting. His arrogance then returned, an attempt to cover the moment of weakness.

“Hoh? What’s this? Seems you grew a spine since last we met.” Wearing a smirk, Raven plucked the truffles up. “It would be rude of me to refuse your offering after you’ve pleaded for my affection and traveled all this way.”

“Y-You accept them? My feelings…”

“I didn’t say that.” He waggled a finger. The truffles, shoved inside of a drawer like some treasure stowed away for safekeeping. “Sweets and sentiments are two entirely different matters. I’m afraid that a bird is never to be tied down—the sky always calls to it.”

“Oh.” You deflated, lowering your gaze to the ink-stained floor. “Th-That’s okay, I shouldn’t have assumed…”

"Don’t make that sorry expression,” Raven sighed, frowning. "Sadness is unbecoming. No one wears it well."

I despise seeing on you. Because of me, you're making such a face... and I cannot even bring myself to properly apologize.

His chest ached.

“Look at me. Hate me,” he had once written--the tale of his isolating curse. “It is a better fate than languishing in history and being forgotten altogether.”

Suddenly, the short distance between the two of you seemed like oceans apart.

He could reach out, offer his hand. He could blurt out all that was running through his mind.

I was so lonely ever since you left. Let's make up that lost time. Tell me about yourself, about your world. How have you been? Do you still care for me, despite going through all my vitriol?

But he couldn't. No, he shouldn't.

Raven sucked in a breath through his teeth. Dancing with danger, tempting fate. He would dare, this one time.

“... Come here.”

"What?"

"I said, come here," he repeated, a little louder. His arms were out, hesitantly spread just wide enough for you to slip in. Raven, embarrassed, hastily glanced away from you.

“I failed to prepare a gift to return the favor—of course, you can’t really blame me, can you? Your appearance was unannounced. Accept this in its place… one moment of respite in my arms."

“R-Really?!”

“Hurry up before I change my mind.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

It was strange, shuffling into the folds of his arms. You had never been this close to him before—body and body, soul to soul. He smelled of pages and chilled rain, the darkness and the stars between it.

Raven was a painting come to life, speckled with intricate details you could only glean from up close. The curious twinkle in his eyes, the way his long, dark lashes flutter like wings, the pout to his mouth. From far away, he presented cool, untouchable.

Now…

He was strangely gentle. Almost vulnerable.

A bird crafted of glass, set to shatter by your hand.

“… Stop staring,” Raven grumbled. “I’ve told you before, haven’t I? It’s terribly rude. Not an ounce of good manners in you, is there?”

“Haha… No, I guess not,” you replied softly—noncommittal as you nestled snuggly into him.

“Hmph. Getting comfortable so soon?”

“Yup. Your feathers are fluffy and warm.”

A scoff. “… For what it’s worth, we can stay like this for as long as you like. Be thankful for my magnanimity.”

You smiled, and it set his pulse drumming. A new idea, born.

“I am.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #sweet on you #m!Raven Crowley #Reader #self insert #twst interactions #twisted wonderland interactions

[aseuki]

HI for the askgame if i may: 🪐🔮♟️🧋

answer with any/all ocs your heart desires gimme that good oc content >:]

[ask meme]

Omg for sure for sure! Avalanches you with so much OC Lore

🪐 (Saturn) - What planet are they from? Is it in Gamble Galaxy, Another Dimension, the Mirror World, the New World, or somewhere else? Where do they live now?

Currently, Stell drifts through the cosmos with Parhelic Anima, the Nova that they call home!

However, they are originally from Newglow, a planet located in a sister system to the Gamble Galaxy that could be most easily compared to Mekkai from Milky Way Wishes. A technologically forward city, it’s a local major hub for travel and as such is a veritable cultural melting pot. Most travelers and society visit and inhabit the upper hemisphere, while the machinery and maintenance that runs the planet is sequestered underneath.

Despite being primarily an urban setting, it does experience all four seasons within its atmosphere!

Meanwhile, Phemus presently wanders the pocket of Hades between the realms of the dreaming and the dead, enacting her role in ferrying souls.

It’s a vast, lonely place, and she treasures what little conversation she could grab from her work (and from her coworkers)

As for where she’s from…

Who can say!

🔮 (Crystal Ball) - Out of all the treasures in the Great Cave Offensive, Kirby is letting your OC pick one from his stash to keep! Which one do they pick, and why?

Already answered this for Stell (it’s the Machine Parts), but I think Phemus might pick the Star Droplet!

Material goods largely mean little to her—it’s the intent and sentiment that matters, so I think she’d be more inclined to pick something that reminded her of the giftee! I also think a little piece of starstuff can strike the right chords of sentiment for her in general haha.

♟️ (Pawn) - Does your OC get possessed easily, or do they have the willpower to fight back against any possible attempts? Have they been possessed before?

Despite their piss poor wisdom score, Stell is remarkably immune to getting possessed!Then again, it’s tough to try claiming something that’s already been claimed He claims it’s because of his naturally high intellect and willpower 😤😤😤

Phemus is also gifted with high resistance to possession, due to her innate psychic magic tied to the realms of consciousness.Though I imagine if on the rare chance anyone really tried and succeeded, they’d be pretty easily driven out by the absolute hurricane of shitposting that goes on in that noggin of hers asdkfjndskfjn

🧋 (Boba Tea) - Come up with a Kirby Café item themed around your OC! It can be a savoury dish, a drink, a dessert, or something else entirely.

I’ve actually answered for both Stell and Phemus! Stell’s would be a mexican hot chocolate lava cake (with a red velvet twist), and Phemus’s would be a dark chocolate mango mousse!

#hooOO this ended up taking a lot longer than I thought because. I had too many drawings in my brain SDKFJSDFN hope you enjoy Owl!! #Crams in so many little details and lore. Spins my little brain. Excellent #this was actually a Very fun exercise in drawing scenery #should do it more often TBH #Kirby OC Ask Meme #stell #parhelion knight #parhelic anima #holy shitt it's been Ages have I really never introduced Anima on here. Whack #phemus #kirby #thank you for the ask and the interest btw!! Mails you so many hearts

[berylcups]

Abbacchio x Reader :drabbles

“Just Friends”

Cw: drinking, dubious consent? (It’s like tipsy consenting but imma tag it as dubious just in case. Drink wisely lovelies 🍷) also this is OOC AF but for it’s myself indulgence lol MINOR DNI

Notes: here’s some drabbles from my storage. Hopefully this will keep y’all full until I got my other work completed. Let’s just say there’s some cuck fuckery going on mwahaha 💜 Beryl

Y/N was the 2nd to last addition to Bucciaratis' team. They were quiet,and reserved. They didn’t like to talk much so it was a breath of fresh air for Abbacchio. The last thing he needed was another talkative brat to annoy him. He did find them to be a little suspicious…of course it turned out they just had social anxiety.

The rowdy boys would scare Y/N back into their shell and they’d stop opening up for a while. Much to bucciaratis dismay he would have to scold the others into behaving properly so Y/N felt comfortable enough to open up and bond with the rest of the team.

What’s a way for Y/N to loosen up? Alcohol of course. Specifically wine. The team was celebrating another win for taking down a rivaling group in their territory. It was past hours at the restaurant so they all drank and ate as much as their hearts desired. Now all that’s left is Abbacchio and Y/N. Y/N is much more relaxed and talkative when they are tipsy. They 're pretty fun to be around!

“Prosecco? Pfft you’re a lightweight and a wine newbie.” Abbacchio teased.

“I only like what tastes sweet. The dry stuff makes my face pucker and upsets my stomach.” Y/N stuck their tongue out.

“Of course it upsets your stomach. You’re drinking it way too fast. You’re supposed to sip it.” He snickered. “ Here, try some of mine with the dark chocolate since you like sweet things so much.” He offered his glass to them and they took a sip and ate a piece of chocolate.

“Hmm…tastes better this time .” Y/N said concentrating on the flavors lingering in their mouth.

“See? I told you it’s better when you drink it slowly. Now you don’t have to rely on those cheap newbie wines anymore.” He said acting smug.

“Yeah but… I still like the sweeter one better .” Y/N teased.

“ You uncultured brat.” He chuckled.

Abbacchio was surprised to find someone that he could genuinely get along with. This was the first time Y/N truly bonded with any of the team. When sober, Y/N was still a little shy and pretty reserved but around Abbacchio they felt completely at ease. They were low key about it but they became close friends.

When Y/Ns CD player stopped working they were pretty frustrated. He offered one of his ear buds to listen to his music. This raised a few eyebrows, abbacchio never shared his music before.

You two had an evening ritual that just seemed to develop on its own where you would be the last ones up at night. You both enjoyed each other’s company and the comforting silence that came with it. Just drinking wine and listening to music. An occasional conversation would eventually pop up whenever he felt the need to say something.

“You should really stop biting your nails Y/N. It’s a bad habit and can cause nail damage.” Abbacchio would gently scold. “ Let me paint your nails. That will help you curb your habit. I think this color would look good on you.” He held your hands and filed your nails to an even length. Feeling how soft and small your hands are compared to his larger ones made him feel some sort of way… he never felt a feeling like this before. Is this what love is? No way, you wouldn’t like someone like him. Better suppress those feelings. He doesn’t realize how his low confidence is blinding what he’s seeing in front of them. He can’t see that you like him just as much but lack the confidence yourself as well.

————————————-

When Giorno joined he saw how quickly you went back into your shell again. Great- we made all this progress and this brat waltzes in and fucks everything up. You always clam up around new people and get shaky. He’ll gently place his hand over yours under the privacy of the table to calm you down. He’s gonna put you at ease by doing an old party trick…perfect for tea parties. You completely forgot about your anxiety seeing him put his back to you and hear him pissing into the teapot.

“You gotta be shitting me…” You thought in shock.

“Here… I hope you enjoy it. I made it myself.” He said deadpan to the newbie.

“?!” They clasped a hand over their mouth to keep themselves from bursting out laughing. They could feel the tears beginning to prick their eyes.

Of course your laughter would turn to horror when you see the young blonde down the “special tea” like it was his first drink he’s had in days.

Giorno would be a hindrance to your peace of mind but if it wasn’t for him, Abbacchio wouldn’t feel the desperate need to hold onto you tighter.

—————————————

“Eggplant parmigiana again Y/N? You don’t wanna try anything new? Here, try my Pasta alla Genovese. You’ll like it I promise.” He knew you were afraid of trying new things in case you didn’t like it and end up offending someone. He didn’t really understand the fear of offending someone but he knew it was just how your personality is. You were considerate of everyone and he thought that endearing but could also be a hindrance to you.

He pushed his plate closer to you so you could get a forkful, and you hesitantly put it in your mouth. He was right! It was delicious, you kinda regret not getting it.

“Wow you were right. That is good. It’s super meaty.” You said covering your full mouth while talking.

“I’ll give you half of mine if you give me half of yours.” He offered.

“Yessssss” You said excitedly.

“But you can only drink Chianti.” He smirked

“ fine— you wine snob.” You huffed pretending to be annoyed.

“Hey- how about sharing with us huh? Give me half of half your Genovese and you can have half of half of my fagioli!” Narancia complained.

“Shut u-“Abbacchio says before getting cut off by a fuming Fugo.

“Half of half?! Don’t you mean a QUARTER?! Have you LEARNED NOTHING?! you STUPID BASTARDO!.”Fugo blew a gasket and stabbed Narancias with a fork…again.

———————————————————————

You have a habit of falling asleep during long travels and you always somehow end up with your head on Abbacchios shoulder knocked out like a log. The smell of his shampoo and his cologne blend together perfectly and listening to the music he shares just puts you into another world where you forget about being crammed in a van with a bunch of rowdy boys.

“Aww aren’t you sweet letting Y/N sleep on you like that!” Mista teased. “You both look adorable ~”

“Shut the fuck up. You’re gonna wake them up and we’re just friends.” He gave Mista and the rest of the giggling crew the middle finger.

“…just friends…” you repeated in your sleep.

“Suuuuurrrreee buddy.” Mista teased as he gave him the finger guns and a cheesy ass wink.

“Get bent.” Abbacchio proceeded to throw an empty water bottle at him for that.

“…Are we there yet..?” You yawn, squinting your eyes as you adjust to the light.

“Not even close…” he growls. “ just go back to sleep. Y/N.”

Abbacchio gives Mista a scornful look that could kill him.

“H-hey don’t look at me like that! You throwing shit is what woke them up!” Mista said, trying not to fuel Abbacchios anger further.

———————————————————————

It was another night of you two drinking together but you decided to take it up into his bedroom for some privacy since a couple were still up playing video games in the living room. You were admiring the amount of makeup he has.

“You always know how to look so nice. I don’t even know how to put the stuff on other than foundation and mascara.” You sheepishly confessed .

“You have a nice natural look. But if you’d like I can show you how to use some of mine to change it up a bit. I have a few lipstick colors that would look amazing on you” he said getting some makeup off his makeup vanity.

His hand was gentle when he held your face, his ametrine eyes felt like they were staring directly into your soul as he applied the eyeliner on your face. You could feel your face getting red from the intense eye contact, his eyes were so gorgeous. You have never seen a 2 toned eye color before.

“If your eyes are hooded it’s best to go with a thinner line so it doesn’t smudge…” he said, focusing on the other eye now. “You can go thicker if you want but you need to wait a little bit to make sure it dries.”

“Okay…” was all you could mutter out. Him being so close made you get a little shy again like when you first met.

He wanted to keep staring into your pretty eyes, they were hypnotizing up close but he had to break contact to get out the lipstick.

It was your favorite color and it compliments your skin tone well. Looking at your lips as he put it on you was giving him impulsive thoughts. The way he instructed you to pout your lips made you look so kissable. His mind went into autopilot mode, he moved closer to you and you did the same. He kept staring at your perfectly colored lips and gently brushed his lavender ones against yours.

“Shit!” He realized what he did and jumped back and started apologizing profusely.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to do that—I’m kinda drunk so I’m not thinking straight-“

You cut him off by kissing him back.

“?!” If it wasn’t for his full coverage foundation his entire face would be red.

“You’re fine.”you say. “I…uh… kinda always wanted to do that.“ you confessed looking away sheepishly. “I really like you a lot .”

“Oh? And you kept this from me all this time?” He said trying to regain his confidence.

“And you didn’t notice all this time?” You gently teased.

“You brat.” He smirked and roughly pulled you closer to kiss you deeply.

You never did get a good look at how he did with your makeup. Confessing your feelings and making out is much more confidence boosting than a makeover.

———————————————————————

You two decided to be lowkey about your relationship, the last thing you two wanted was to be teased by the others. Also neither of you are a fan of PDA, it just adds unwanted attention and it’s kinda gross having people watch you.

That doesn't mean he doesn’t mean doesn’t make his affection known. Under the privacy of the table he likes to hold your hand. If he’s feeling flirtatious his hand is on your thigh. He'll run his hand up your inner thigh, give a good squeeze and massage it a bit. You have to do everything you can not to blush or just cream yourself.

———————————————————————

At the restaurant he would sneak off with you into the bathroom to have some impromptu alone time. Around you he just gets so needy so easily. He has you against the wall with one of your legs hiked around his hip as he grinds his clothed erection into your crotch. He’s muffling your moans with open mouth kisses and lots of tongue. He always tastes like his favorite wine and with how good he makes you feel it’s like you could get drunk off of his kisses.

He always has to have a handkerchief and an extra tube of lipstick on him to keep both of your little secrets a secret. He’s definitely looking for a transfer proof brand of lipstick for both of you to wear so you don't have to worry about all the smudging. But… seeing his lip prints all over you gets him off hard.

———————————————————————

When you don’t have missions together and you’re spending a few nights apart it’s tough on you both. But distance does make the heart grow stronger, and so does your neediness for him. You both make the best of the situation with what you have. Late night conversations that end up leading to some heavy sexual topics. He texts the lewdest things that you have to go read in private and even touch yourself to due to how graphic he’s being.

“Oh the things I would like to do to you right now... I’d kill just to have you with me.”

“You think you could ride me when I get home? I love watching your cute face as you try to take me all in.”

“ I want to watch your mascara run down your face as I make you cry my name.”

“You think you can take my entire load or do you think it will leak out? The thought of creampie-ing you is making me feral.”

“I can’t wait to get out of this hell hole. These brats are annoying me. The minute I get home I’m going to blow your back out. I swear I’m going to fuck the living hell out of you”

———————————————————————

When you have missions together you make sure to get a room. Bucciarati spares no expense and makes sure that everyone has at least a decent place to stay for the night. You think a nice hotel would have thicker walls but poor Narancia and Fugo did NOT get any sleep that night.

He had you on to your back in a mating press pounding mercilessly into your sopping wet cunt.

“Shit Leone~!”you mewled clinging on to him.

“That’s right bambina. You keep saying my name” he panted while nibbling on your ear.

“Fuck you’re tight… I’m never sharing you. You’re all mine” he growled.

Your feet were hitting the wall as he buried his cock deep into your tight cunt at a brutal pace. He let go of one of your legs and rubbed circles on your clit.

“Oh god~ Leone~ you’re going to make me cum!” You cried as tears ran down your cheeks.

“That’s right- you cum for me. Cum with me!” He grunted.

You felt the warm release inside making you feel pleasantly full. The knot in your belly tightened and legs spasmed, your toes curled, you felt the fire in you intensify and the knot finally snapped.

“Oh fuck~ Leo I’m cumming!” You howled as you arched your back.

You didn’t have time to bask in the afterglow, you both suddenly felt weightless for a brief second and a loud crash. You both broke the hotel bed!

A zip sound came from the door-“ I heard a commotion! Abbacchio are you being attacked?!” Bucciarati burst in and his eyes fell on the both of you and his face went red.

“!!!” You quickly covered your chest with the sheet. “Uh-um….” You couldn’t form any sentences.

“Let me guess…Just friends huh?” Bucciarati teased with a shit eating grin

“Bucciarati…with all due respect-please get the fuck out.” Abbacchio said deadpan trying not to get embarrassed.

“Oh alright… but you’re paying for the damages.” He smirked as he opened the door and left.

So much for keeping everything a secret…

#jjba #jjba x reader #jjba part 5 #jjba abbacchio #jojo abbacchio #leone abbacchio #leone abbachio x reader #ooc #fluffy smut #bucci gang x reader #bucci gang #jjba abbacchio x reader #jojo abbacchio x reader #abba my husbwife

[ladythornofrivia]

The Imperfection of Sound

In a world of sound, reader is deaf. Until she meets Ran Haitani, who shows her that life is more than just hoping for a miracle.

Pair: Ran x Reader

Warnings: Mature Content, Inappropriate Moments and Adult Language. (if you’re under 18, you can’t read this). Spice. (Spice is nice 😏😎😉)

Author’s Note: For those who are sad from reading the last chapter—I’m sorry. Enjoy this chapter.

(Please report if someone decides to steal/plagiarize my story. And notify me. Thank you.)

Chapter 4: Heavenly

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Ran felt sick throughout the night. He couldn’t bear himself to stay awake, so fell asleep after drinking hot chocolate with chewy marshmallows. He cleansed himself in a lazy fashion—just unbraided his two braids and cleansed his face, brushed his teeth. Then for his outfit, he tossed it aside into the laundry basket for a clean pair of black boxers and loose grey-blue shirt.

He looked up at the mirror, the dark circles under his eyes were deeply outlined and shaded.

If only I’ve been straightforward with her like I did with the others. How I treated others. What made me hold back in the first place? Was I afraid over my confidence? Doubtful? I wish she could tell me. Damn, I hate miscommunication. I didn’t think she’d jump into conclusions. But then, all girls are self-conscious once they see something that makes them uncomfortable. If only I said, “I like you, (y/n), please be my girlfriend.” Everything would’ve been so much easier. I used to be careless of what I said, still sure of myself. What the hell happened to me? I should get some sleep. Tomorrow is a new chance.

Then Ran tucked himself into cold sheets, easing his anxious thoughts roaming. He breathed in…one, two…

Three.

Darkness enveloped him.

•••••

A suckling noise drained into his ears while dainty fingers slipped into up and down motions, kissing noises planted on him.

His throat grumbled, his back hand rubbed his eyes, forcing himself awake to someone straddling him on the bed. With a quick action, his eyes open at his own blanket, formed like a huge tent. When he grabbed the clouded bed sheets, it unveiled a girl. Not just any girl. It was you, pleasuring his long cock with your hungry and pretty mouth. Your hand is dainty compare to his thick girth, sliding in up and down motion still while your lips kissed the tip of his cock, as if French kissing it. The white leak coated on your tongue. Your eyes gazed at him with desire, not the innocent kind, despite your eyes try to claim as one.

“Such a naughty girl,” Ran said with a faint smirk. The widened pupils on his violet eyes relaxed. “Go on, princess, I want you feel my cock in your mouth.”

His hips thrust on your mouth, receiving a low moan droning from you, as you kept sucking his stiff cock, humming.

Usually, Ran met a couple of girls outside of the club. One thing in common girls liked to do is to be seductive towards him, with low hums and subtle touches here and there.

With a final shove into your hungry mouth, his hot semen spurted and drained passed through your throat. As he pulled it out, you swallowed every last liquid. Instantly, he grabbed and pulled you, sharing a deep languid kisses with him. His hand rested at the back of your head as he shoved his tongue against yours. Languid kisses became more lively and desperate—faster and hungrier.

Automatically you plunged his hardened cock into your wet folds, grinding fast as you could, then pounding your ass each time you came down from riding his cock, your lips parted, drawing a loud moan as your head threw back. With a rosy blush on your cheeks, your eyes looked at him with pleasure, you tossed your long hair, riding him faster, moaning desperately.

Ran’s hands groped your breasts, pinching your nipples, as he watched you moaned louder than the last. Your flush skin and face, skin to skin, with yours and his, everything is perfect.

Heavenly.

If only I could tell her how beautiful she sounded.

His arms pulled your upper body down to meet his lips once more, shares deep kisses.

He flipped you over, laying on your backside, as he unsheathed his cock and licked your clit. Nipping them, your hand made its way onto Ran, grinding your pussy until you squirted.

Pulling away, seeing the mess you created on his bed from your wet pussy—your clit is puffed, numbed from Ran’s nipping and licking. Hurriedly, Ran your legs, wedging his cock into your cunt once more, his hands wrapped your legs around his waist as he cradled your head, pressing his lips against your forehead, then tracing his lips down to your jawline, neck then collarbone, then bringing it back up to your lips before heading out to the wide, marbled balcony after unlocking his the sliding door with one hand. With the heaviness of his cock still inside you, each time he moved, the walls in your cu t clutched tighter.

“I’ll be gentle,” he said, kissing your forehead before he thrusted, which resulted you screaming with ecstasy on top of your lungs, tears spilling out from your face as you locked your grip behind his neck as you felt your body bouncing from his cock shoving and bruising your walls, immediately immersed, and the arousal grew stronger.

He quickly untangled your legs as you faced toward the high-end view of Roppongi, bent forward as the side of your face pinned down on the wide marble railing as he railed harder. As his pacing went sloppier, yet harsher, he tugged you back, your back pressed against his chest as his lips pressed against your cheek lovingly, whispering, “You like that? You’re so fucking cute when you look like this. People in Roppongi would see how fucking beautiful you are…how your tight cunt is fucking good—your gorgeous body, gorgeous lips, your seductive moans…all hot and hungry for me…if you ever get a chance to get pregnant, I’d still fuck you to oblivion, my little goddess. I love you (y/n)—I love you.”

The semen spurted in you as the last of your arousing screams pierced into his ears before—

•••••

Ran lunged his body forward, covered in drooping sweat. It was still dark—at midnight. He hasn’t gotten any sleep since he last saw you. It was all a big misunderstanding. The girl he randomly clashed with was the birthday girl Rindou mentioned. She wanted to inquired Ran where he was at that night, as Ran tried his best to be civil. He wanted to meet you, by the building where you and him first met—overly self-assured and suave. But with you, his charm dissipated, as if he has forgotten how.

He’s bewitched by your queenly spell.

He kept reading the old messages over and over, the times where he and his heart elated by you, having selfie pictures together and random jokes you guys shared—and inside jokes that you two could only decipher.

But everything seems broken. He couldn’t look at it anymore. He didn’t want to be sober—filled with despair at a new darkened day.

I wish she could answer me. I want to make things right, but I don’t know how.

The birthday girl professed she wanted Ran as her birthday present. Meaning, she offered her virginity to him since her ex broke up with her due to business and education.

As much as Ran politely declined, she still kept pursuing for his attention and affection. He tried not to be obvious to push her away but rather grabbed her by the shoulders to halt her, and that’s where he saw you, your eyes are all but a fatal mourning and betrayal. And now Ran tries in anyway he can to message you, but no answer. He wanted to explain, he’s going to explain, but the outcome was as horrible. How will be able to reach you now?

Just as he was about to contact one of the Tenjiku members to search you, a long outline of hardened cock protruded from his bed blankets.

He wished that everything in his heavenly dream was real.

In the meantime, he has to find a way to mend your heart and pull you back into his world, as you delve into his once and for all.

Taglist: @galactict3a @mrssano04 @penguinlovestowrite @akemiixx01 @f1yh1gh @onyx-blossom @goldenbeskar @sehunnies-hunnie96 @colored-tr-panels

#ran x reader #ran haitani #ran haitani x reader #haitani ran x reader #haitani x reader #haitani ran #haitani brothers #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers #bonten #bonten x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #tokrev #tokyo manji gang #x reader #anime insert #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev smut #tokyorev #tr smut #tokrev smut #tokrev x reader #fanfics #my fic #anime fanfic #toman #ran smut #smut

[maoluxury]

⚠️ Cannibalism//Theme sensible⚠️

(This is based on an hc I have of the character Affogato from Cookie Run Kingdom, I don't consider it very explicit but I still put the caution, nothing is canon)

(English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance if you do not understand some parts of it

I hope you enjoy it :DD)

(OH AND I HOPE TO READ THAT YOU LIKED IT ✨)

The smell of incense wafted through the room and Affogato had his disciples separated into several rows of 5 by 5 who stood kneeling on the floor, waiting expectantly for their master's words.

- This has been a very moving meeting... The fact that you have learned so much from me fills me with pride," he said with a smile.

The disciples remained silent with their eyes a little low respecting the silence that was given to their mentor, Affogato widened his smile and went down the small staircase and walked the row in sepulchral silence, the only thing that could be heard were his steps and rustling of the fabric of his clothes, the brunet passed his eyes one by one of the young people of tender and appetizing skin... They were all so appetizing, all were like to devour them whole in the same room.

When Affogato reached the end of the rows, seeing the backs of everyone, he turned on his heels to the table of exquisite sweets prepared at each meeting, grabbed two chocolate bonbons and put one in his mouth, delighting in the sweet and full of sugar flavor that counteracted the bitter and tasteless food of that kingdom; He held the second chocolate between his fingers and went back through the rows until he stopped in front of a young disciple, no more than 20 years old, with a sharp face and the blindfold firmly fastened, he raised his face putting his finger on his chin and put the chocolate candy in his mouth and asked him in murmurs to feel and enjoy the taste.

The young man savored the taste of the sugar between his lips and still without saying a word he smiles at his master who bends down and brings his face close to the ear of the young man of dark complexion and white clothes.

- I would like to see you in my room tonight... You have earned the honor of my teaching you something very special...

The young man raises his eyebrows in surprise, he does not speak because he does not have his master's permission to do so, but his face lights up with illusion and he bows in gratitude.

- You more than anyone else have stood out from all your peers and tonight will be to take you to another level from which you will finally be allowed to remove the blindfold from your eyes.

The young apprentice felt a thrill run through him as removing the blindfold or allowing himself that luxury in front of his master only meant that he had achieved the degree of confidence and teaching that he had been practicing for years.

- Master... - the disciple began to say.

Affogato silenced him softly whispering a "shhh..." and smiled at him, then he walked back to the beginning of the rows and gave the order to get up; all like the automatons got up and bowed to their master and very disciplined and in silence they left the room one by one, a last look to the selected disciple before leaving to do their work.

Once alone Affogato uncoiled his snake tail that encircled his waist, the mere idea that the day had come to taste human flesh delighted him and provoked in his body a heat that could be compared to excitement since repressing such impulses was an odyssey for his bestial body that now had to bear the animal impulses of the desire to devour the beings that serve him and follow his orders, but could nature be blamed? Nature that did not ask to have her conceived but from which she would only please the most primitive instincts of her body.

Little by little the night was falling and the torches of the corridors were lit illuminating the icy corridors of which the icy cold of the eternal winter was seeping through the windows, the tapping of the base of Affogato's staff echoed as he walked with his look and a slight smile on his face his light steps reached the door of his room from which he took the key to open it and entered without much haste closing the door behind him, undoing part of the heavy winter coats a huge boa came out of one of the corners hissing without threats crawling to his master, slowly climbing his body and head and crawling to be greeted with a caress and a kiss from the brown who is used to greet his beloved pet in that way; The huge snake that was no more and less than four meters long seemed apparently harmless in front of the counselor and went back to his corner to rest and coil up again because he knew, like his master, that tonight was a very special dinner.

The time was agreed and Affogato was wearing a light purple gwanbok with a black bandage as a belt whose clasp in the center was his symbol, his headdress was removed from his hair and the hair was gathered in a low bun quite elegant lighting an incense on the bedside table next to his hanbok and breathing deeply inhaling the smell of his incense letting it run through his whole body and flowing in his mind the idea and desire of what will happen tonight.

They knocked on the door, politely the disciple entered and bowed in front of his master, Affogato who was sitting on his knees just turned his head to see him and nodded for him to come closer, the brunet stood up and slowly approached towards the boy who was moderately shorter than him, Affogato made a gesture with his hand and passing them behind the nape of the young man's neck he removed the purple bandage that had been carried for years, the young man could appreciate the ivory colored irises of his master and those slit pupils that were inherited from his tribe. Since the room was illuminated by candles the young man had not noticed the huge snake tail of his master that crawled with the silence of a whisper but the small reptilian scales that stood out slightly from Affogato's face to the translucence of the candles, nor did he notice the dangerous animal that was in a high corner watching him and waiting to be given the order to dine.

- My faithful boy..." Affogato began, taking the trusting young man as far as the light could project them both, "From among my disciples I have chosen you in a special way for a small celebration that I honor every month. There is nothing that fills me with more joy than to share this with someone so loyal.

The young man listened in disciplined silence, Affogato invited him to sit and they both kneeled down and sat facing each other, listening to the howling of the wolves patrolling outside the huge wall.

- Today you are my guest - Affogato said politely - let me spoil you with a delicious cup of tea, so we can have our celebration.

Affogato got up and went for a beautiful porcelain teapot decorated and painted with beautiful elderflowers and two black porcelain chatjan cups commonly used in traditional celebrations; pouring the hot tea delicately and almost ceremonially he leaves the teapot on his left and toasts to the health of both of them.

- Affogato… - finally speaks the young man as he already had the confidence to do so - I am grateful that you have considered me to spend this evening with you and continue to honor you, I have dedicated myself at an early age to follow your philosophy and serve you.

- Yes... - answered Affogato - you were a little boy when you arrived at the castle gates and I decided to give you shelter and protection under my arms, you were not even fifteen years old and I taught you to be a strong young man... Prepared for life.

- I believe that I will never be able to pay in life this debt of your kindness, my lord....

- Perhaps not in this life, my dear, but there is something special in this ceremony with which you can repay.

- Anything for you, my master - sighed the young man moving a little closer to the brunet with outstretched arms - my whole life would not be the same if I had never followed the path of your wisdom.

Affogato smiled and looks at his disciple whose eyes look crystalline as if he was about to cry from the happiness that gave him remembering every teaching and patience of his master but he had to control his impulses, he lowers his arms and stiffens again taking a deep breath and apologizing for his altered emotion, Affogato says nothing because his eyes are fixed on the delicious skin of the young man hiding under those clothes, a young and tender skin, with a taste as sweet as cake and tender as freshly made butter, the slices of meat he imagined devouring, the blood that would drip down his neck and not only stain the delicate fabrics but also splash on the floor, the thought of all that made his mouth water so he took a long sip of tea to hide the growing hunger that was pounding in his chest.

Once the tea was finished Affogato approached his disciple and put his hand on his chest with a somewhat haughty look he opened his lips to ask…

- Are you willing to let him eat you?

The young man was shocked by that question and incredulously didn't know what to answer since he was referring to... Was he really just going to devour? Like a piece of meat?

And before answering he already had Affogato on top of him, grabbing his wrists, nailing his claws and using his strong snake tail to seize his torso and exerting so much pressure that you could hear little by little the breaking of each of the ribs of the poor disciple who coughed blood and tried to scream and move from the pain, making guttural sounds and moving his head up and stretching his neck in a failed attempt to breathe but it was useless, very useless, Affogato exerted an overwhelming pressure.

- You have given me the honor of devouring your body - sighed the man in a hoarse voice - my hunger can only be limited to savoring one of you once a month and that is why tonight makes it very special... You who are my prey I will delight myself with your young body and your flesh, I will chew, tear every muscle, fiber and break the bones of such an exquisite dinner that very few times I have the luxury of giving myself such pleasure.

Small strands of saliva dripped from the corner of the brunet's lip while he smiled showing his sharp snake fangs, his animalistic intent and growing hunger made him jump straight to the face of his victim and tear off his skin with a jerk staining with blood the surroundings of the hair of the young man killed by suffocation and Affogato chewed with delight the delicious flesh of the one who once followed him loyally and followed his orders now was turned into the dinner of a counselor whose hybrid condition filled his palate with ecstasy, He licks ruby that had fallen on the neck and rips off clothes that the young man would never wear again and continues to lick the thick blood with his while his hands are placed on the chest of the youngest and with his strength he opens it exposing the cracked and almost crushed ribs over the heart and lungs, Affogato plunges his face into that open bed and rips out part of the heart with his sharp teeth and chews it organ by organ, tearing it to shreds, the heart is a small paste of guts as well as the lungs, Meanwhile the dark-haired man licked his fingers full of blood and wiped with his wrist and sleeves of his clothes the blood on his cheeks, he sighed relieved and sat down next to the corpse looking at it with a smile and stroking his arms, stretching his hands towards the dry eyes and sinking his nails to take them out of his beads and put them in his mouth like delicious candies.

Approaching the arm and between bites and bites manages to tear it and call his snake with slight hissing which did not take long to approach his master and open his big mouth to receive the food given by his owner which pushed back to swallow it and have it a good time in his stomach to digest it slowly, Affogato also decided to give his pet what was the part of the liver and stomach to the huge boa that devoured them gratefully.

His desire goes down to the torso and biting hard he takes huge slices of the young man's right thigh which he devours in one gulp just like a real snake, he loved it, the taste was so sweet, he could feel the warmth of this blood trickle down his chin and reach his chest staining his sleeping clothes and the warm dark wooden floor, he gasps unconsciously as the tingling of his nature made him get slightly hot, was devouring not a sign of passion? Even for the most elegant dinners he devours and tastes full of passion the palate desiring more and more.

It was already past eleven o'clock at night and Affogato was sitting on the ground next to the corpse of which only bones and carrion of the skin remained stuck to them, caressing with his fingertips the head of his docile pet, both satisfied with the rich feast they had feasted on beside a floor stained almost dry, the huge boa whose scales glistened in the light of the candles that had not yet burned out, rested a quarter of his body in his master's lap and the rest was rolled up at his side.

The night had gone as planned, the counselor was happy and no one would ever know or suspect the slightest of his secrets.

A good night.

Who will be next month?

#digital drawing #my draws #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #digital art #crk fanart #affogato cookie #crk affogato #cr kingdom #fic rec #one shot #crk fanfic #crk headcanons #headcanon #my fic #fiction

[emptinesstomelodyao3]

With Wax Melted, I'd Meet The Sea - Short Icarus Inspired Hannigram Ficlet

Hannibal Lecter x Will Graham angsty Icarus ficlet

Hannibal's POV of The Fall™ 

Word Count: 877

TW: implied character death (but it's vague), mentions of blood and killing (but it's Hannibal so I suppose that's expected)

Do not copy, repost or translate without permission and credit

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Each day, you'd rise with me

Each day, you'd rise with me

Know that I would gladly be

The Icarus to your certainty

Oh, my sunlight, sunlight, sunlight

Strap the wing to me

Death trap clad happily

With wax melted, I'd meet the sea

Under sunlight, sunlight, sunlight

Once, in a lifetime long forgotten and stained with the golden ichor of Will’s anger and fear, Hannibal had foolishly compared Will Graham to Icarus.

He had the sketched Gowy’s interpretation of The Fall, and seen Will’s curls in Icarus’s, he had imagined the flexing muscle and sinew of will’s arms, and the brief, dedicant flash of panic as wax dripped against his skin and feathers brushed his sea-weathered skin.

He imagined Dear Uncle Jack as Daedalus; the foolhardy father of Icarus, who had given him the tools and long leash to roam the skies, who had done nothing but watch as his precious son fell from the sky.

Will was desperate for the warmth of the sun; he craved the warmth and light of being good, he desired to flush all darkness from his mind, to erase the shadows that clawed and ripped their way through his skull and infested his dreams. Will would soar, arm outstretched to the burning rage of an unachievable dream, only to be left shattered and broken and fall into the swirling darkness of Hannibal’s design.

Hannibal had dreamt of it, of watching Will fall and flail away from the warmth and light, to crash into his arms and be consumed - he wanted Will to sink below his surface, to see the true darkness and calamity beneath; he wanted Will to see him, to know him, to be surrounded and encompassed by him. He wanted Will to be lost within him.

But that was a foolish dream. Hannibal understood now, as he stood at the edge of the precipice. As he felt Will’s strong, blood soaked arms around him, clinging - as if to merge the two souls together, as they should be, Hannibal understood that if anyone was Icarus - foolish, desperate and doomed - it was him.

He had reached for Will, craving his touch; whether it be a warm and gentle hand entwined with his own, or sharp and rabid teeth at his throat - Hannibal didn’t care, if Will needed to taste his blood to feel peace, then Hannibal would find nourishment in the knowledge of being desired.

Will’s breath stutters, and Hannibal can still smell that abhorrent aftershave under the layers of sweat and blood. Through half lidded eyes, Hannibal sees the blood caked and dried in Will’s chocolate curls and pale skin. All he can think, though, as he meets his weary gaze, is how divine Will looks, with his endless sea blue eyes, swirling with rage and purpose. Here, Will is elevated, he has Become. He is a deity of war and blood and love, one that Hannibal would gladly worship and kneel before. Hannibal would tear away his wings and rip out his heart if Will commanded it, if it meant that he could see those eyes again.

Was this how Icarus felt, as he gazed out at the Sun’s rays from his prison, craving its warmth. Did Icarus, too, understand that Death was better than life condemned without ever feeling that close to warmth again.

Will tightens his grip on Hannibal as their eye’s meet, and Hannibal feels his knees buckle; his very body desiring to kneel before it’s God.

Hannibal can see Will’s thoughts, he knows what comes next - he finally understands Will as though their minds had finally blurred; they had finally Become one, entwined and connected; the threads of their fates tied together - inseparable and indecipherable.

Hannibal’s body thrums with the idea, the dull ache from his wounds silenced by the feeling of warmth that spreads through this body. This is all he has ever wanted, this is divine connection. It is as though they were made to be one, as though being with Will has been seared into his very DNA, and he knows that he belongs here.

Will presses closer to Hannibal, his vice-like grip on his arm remains as Will twists their bodies, stumbling and leaning towards the abyss below. Hannibal shuts his eyes and feels the corners of his mouth twist into a peaceful smile as the wind rushes against his hair and his feet stumble as they leave the ground.

Hannibal thinks, briefly, on Icarus and the fearful face that Gowy had depicted him with as he fell.

Hannibal does not feel fear, or regret, as he holds Will tighter and they fall towards the icy purgatory that awaits him.

Perhaps this is because Hannibal has something Icarus did not.

Where Icarus fell alone, looking up at the fuel of his love, and catalyst of his destruction, Hannibal clings to his Sun, dragging it down with him. Icarus fell under the light of the evening rays, but Hannibal is selfish, and he has brought the heavens down with him, he has tainted and stolen the sun from this world, dousing it in darkness and pulling the eclipse into the ocean below.

Icarus died in that ocean, cold and surrounded by indifferent tides.

Hannibal will die too, but he will be warm, and he will be loved.

Read on AO3

#hannibal #hannibal nbc #nbc hannibal #first fic #fanfic #fanfiction #my fic #emptinesstomelody #hannigram #hannibal lecter #hannibal pov #hannibal lecter fanfiction #icarus #greek mythology #will graham #will x hannibal #hannibal x will #hannibal lecter x will graham #will graham x hannibal lecter #murder husbands #the fall #hannibal season 3 #hannibal season 4 #hannibal season two #hannibal greek mythology #jack crawford #will graham fanfiction

[rainbowvamp]

pacing the rocks staring out at the midnight sea (part 1)

This is the first of probably 3 chapters. for the prompt 30. stone

I will not finish this for a minute, but I just wanted to start this before May was over. Some suggestive sexy things, not quite explicit, but not not explicit. 

sex in the other room. lap dance. suggestive comments. 

Athos Angst is actually meant to be the focus. I’m just currently not sex repulsed and taking full advantage of it ig.

—

Athos and Aramis aren’t really the weekend getaway types. Normally Athos has too much work to do, and Aramis can’t be bothered to go away from both his partners just because.

But… Porthos is very much a “let’s get out of the city for the weekend” type. And Aramis can’t deny his lover anything, really, and if Aramis is going, he will eventually convince Athos to also go and just bring his work laptop to work on whatever thing he doesn’t think can wait. 

Aramis has promised, sworn on his beard style products that he and Porthos will vacate the villa (that was supposed to be a couple of hotel rooms but Athos has switched to a villa because he doesn’t understand how budgets work and had just paid for the whole thing without being asked to) for at least 5 hours both Saturday and Sunday so that Athos can work some more on his very important case. Athos had originally said eight hours, but Aramis was very persuasive and had talked him down to five, mostly with the promise of specific sex acts and dish duty being removed from Athos’ responsibilities for a week after they returned. 

Athos used to worry a lot about Aramis and Porthos becoming closer than he and Aramis, but in the last year, things had settled down into an easy, if sometimes variable, rhythm. Aramis bounced between Athos and Porthos as easy as breathing, though he’d made no small number of hints about his desire not to have to bounce between them. Every time he did this Athos just rolled his eyes, returned to whatever he had been doing and reminded Aramis, once again, that he couldn’t simply will Athos to be polyamorous. That wasn’t how any this worked. 

Athos was finishing his last bit of peaceful work when he heard Aramis’ car pull up. It was still fairly early in the evening, the summer light still far from fading and Athos was about to close his computer when he saw the giggling stumbling way that Aramis got out of the car and realize that his lover was very very intent on taking Porthos to bed in the next few minutes.

Athos fished out his headphones and put on something classical that made it easy to focus on his work instead of Aramis having sex in another room and didn’t even look up as Porthos and Aramis stumbled in, already making out like a couple of teenagers. 

It was endearing, actually, to see Aramis being eager. He’d experienced Aramis’ quick desire to get into bed plenty of times over the 6 years they’d been together, but there was something special about being able to glimpse it from the outside. He tried not to compare Aramis’ subtle differences in approach, how he tended to give Porthos control rather than taking it like he did with Athos. How he made suggestions rather than demands of Porthos. How Aramis ended up being pressed against walls instead of pressing into them. Not always. But more frequently than he did with Athos.

He sees Aramis coming towards him and smiles, taking out a headphone, acting like he’d been sitting like that for a while, oblivious to what he was doing.

“Sorry to disturb you. We gave you the five hours.” Aramis smiled and bit his lip before bracing his hand on the back of the couch above Athos and leaning down to kiss him with the same lips that had just been kissing Porthos. He tasted of dark chocolate and syrup. 

“Yes you did. Very good.” Athos reached up and caressed Aramis’ face. “Would you like me to give you your privacy?”

“If you don’t mind staying, we don’t mind you staying, you know that.” Aramis leaned down to kiss him again. Longer, more sensual than the first kiss. A nip of teeth against bottom lip as he pulled away, desiring more.

“I believe it’s Porthos’ night. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” 

“I never tease when I don’t intend to deliver.” Aramis smirked. “It could be your night tonight. If you wanted it to be. If you were willing to share.”

Athos huffed fondly at his lover. “Go. Enjoy yourself. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Suit yourself.” Aramis gives him a last kiss and stands up, taking Porthos’ hand in his and heading towards the bedroom that was Porthos’. “Please get some rest. I won’t enjoy you as much tomorrow if you’re overworked.” This is not what Aramis wants to say, but he’s taken to this phrasing, treating his time with Athos like it was precious enough that Athos should be keeping himself in good shape for it.

“You’ve never minded before.” Athos calls after them, putting his headphone back in. 

He works for a few minutes on his reading. The case laws the could be or needed to be consulted were seemingly endless and Athos had overtaxed himself during the week trying to reduce his weekend work as much as possible and still had a stack too tall to think about. 

“Porthos!”

On occasion, Aramis could be incredibly, indecorously loud in bed. 

When Athos was the one with him, it was always incredibly satisfying to make Aramis hit certain levels of loudness, to make the man feel so good he yelled. 

When Porthos was the one with him…. Athos had mixed feelings.

Of course, there was no small amount of compersion (one of his new words) knowing that Porthos was being good to Aramis. There was also always a small lingering amount of envy that he wasn’t the one who was making Aramis scream.

And of course, there was the hot, animalistic arousal of hearing his lover crying out in bed just a few rooms away, followed by the indescribable need to be a part of it.

But, it wasn’t his night, and it didn’t matter how much he wanted to know what exactly Porthos was doing to make Aramis whine like that. It wasn’t his night, that wasn’t his relationship, and he wasn’t going to pry and he certainly wasn’t going to eavesdrop.

Except, his music could have been a bit louder without giving him a headache or lasting ear damage. He could also have relocated to the kitchen, maybe made himself something to eat and put a few more walls between himself and the other couple. He could’ve gone for a quick walk. Instead he found himself focusing on the not hard to discern noises coming from the bedroom down the hall. 

Athos wasn’t really a firm believer in hell, but he might just go to hell for listening to his lover and his lover’s boyfriend have sex without their consent.

“It could be your night tonight. If you wanted it to be. If you were willing to share.”

Athos thinks, briefly about what sharing Aramis might mean. Aramis sandwiched between himself and Porthos, probably. Maybe kissing Aramis while Porthos-

Athos stopped the train of thought before it could get anymore specific, adhering to the boundary he had set for himself when they’d started this whole thing. 

He wasn’t going to wank to Aramis and Porthos. He wasn’t going to fantasize about it. It was their relationship. Not pornography for him to use for masturbation fodder. 

Aramis turned his headphones up a little louder than was comfortable and went back to reading case law. 

—-

“You’re still in here?” Athos hears instead of his music when, presumably, Aramis plucks his headphone out of his ear. “Athos, it’s nearly 10.” He is leaning on the back of the couch, squinting without his contacts at the text on Athos’ screen.

“I was in the zone.” Athos shrugs and puts his head back to look more directly at Aramis. 

“So was I.” Aramis leered and turned his head slightly to press a kiss to Athos’ inviting mouth. He tasted like freshly cleaned teeth, and mouthwash, another boundary that had been set between them. 

“I’m sure. Porthos is ever so good to you.” It’s meant to be a playful tease, not a sexual one, but Athos doesn’t miss the spark in Aramis’ eyes.

“He most certainly is. Would you like to hear about it?” Aramis kisses Athos bearded chin, down his exposed neck as far as he can reach while not picking himself up. 

“I think that might be violating some boundaries.”

“Your boundaries?” Aramis asked, needing confirmation.

“Porthos’?” Athos laughed, like he couldn’t believe Aramis hadn’t thought of it already.

“Oh, Porthos tells me all about his other lovers. He doesn’t mind.”

Athos’ next question escapes his mouth before he can think any better of it. “Do you tell him about me?”

“Do you want me to tell him about you? You’ve never said it was okay, so I never have. Though I would certainly like to. I love to sing your praises.” Aramis kisses Athos again on the mouth, hard, fast, with more teeth than he probably intended.

“What happened to not teasing when you can’t deliver?” 

Aramis looks intently at Athos’ mouth. “I don’t think Porthos would begrudge us thirty minutes. He’s sleeping off our last round.”

“You could be sleeping too,” Athos smiled as Aramis climbed over the back of the couch and settles himself in Athos’ lap, making Athos set his computer aside before the other man just sat on it.

“Mm, too early for sleep,” Aramis kissed Athos.

“You’re really up for more right now?”

“I’m not up,” He smirked, “But I bet you are.” He ground down against Athos to make a point and Athos smiled without any joy behind his eyes.

“What?” Aramis asked, pulling back so that their contact was minimal. “Too strong? Are you tired? You didn’t look tired, but I’ve misjudged that before.” 

Athos leaned forward to press a kiss to Aramis’ kiss. “Go back to Porthos. I need to finish up here.” 

“You’ve been working all day.” Aramis frowned and Athos just shook his head.

“If you want to enjoy our time together tomorrow, you should probably let me work.” 

Aramis didn’t look entirely satisfied with this response, but he got up off of Athos’ lap and kissed  his forehead, running a loving hand through his hair. “Please go to bed at a reasonable hour. Despite what you think, working yourself to exhaustion is not actually good for your productivity. And I know you know it’s not good for your health. Goodnight, mon amor.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Athos smiled and watched Aramis pad into the kitchen on barefoot, retrieve a glass of water that was probably for Porthos and blow him a kiss before disappearing back down the hall. 

Athos slumped back against the couch and rubbed his temples. 

He wasn’t sure he could do this. 

He could do this. It was Aramis, and he could do anything for Aramis, but… their arrangement was starting to wear on him in a way that he couldn’t describe. He didn’t begrudge Aramis his time with Porthos, but… he wanted something else. Something he didn’t need, probably. Something that was selfish or unnecessary. He was happy with Aramis. When he was with Aramis he was always happy, even when he was very clearly not happy. But still he craved something.

Athos closed his computer and went to brush his teeth and go to bed. His room was on the other side of the house from Porthos room (that currently contained Aramis) and it was good that he wouldn’t be awoken if they decided to get physical in the night, but… something about the thought left him feeling hollow. 

He went to sleep with a podcast playing so he wouldn’t have to feel like he was sleeping in his bed alone. 

#musketeer march but in may

[nerdybirdboy]

Lio is shy and nervous as he holds the small Christmas present between his hands, compared with his usual gifts, this is very uncharacteristic of him, but it's also so much more valuable, more precious than all the treasures in all of the world to him. It makes him anxious to think the possibilities after he gives the small, carefully wrapped velvet box to Tim, of what they might do afterwards, if they will do anything at all.

It's been a couple of years, they've been dating steadily and Lio thinks they're happy together — well, the blond certainly is — so, this gift is one to officialize their relationship. A simple, matte, silver band with a single topaz encrusted in it, discrete like Tim likes it when it comes to anything that may expose his civilian relationships, inside there's the small phrase "vola alto, mio ​​pettirosso" (fly high, my robin), which he hopes can encourage Tim to keep always doing good and being a force for Justice, it also signifies his support to him no matter what comes to pass.

Is this too much? Too little?

Lio is so afraid it might not be what Tim expects. Maybe he should've knitted or bought a cozy sweater? Or chocolate? Tim had mentioned he was looking for an old film collection! He should've gone with that! But now it's too late to turn back and all the blond can do it hope for the best.

"H-Hey!" There's no hiding how he's feeling, Tim would notice his fidgeting even if Lio was the best actor in the world. "I got you a present, my honeybirb! I know it's not... big like I often do, but... I..." Gods! This is hard! "I hope you like it. We've been going on for quite some time and... I thought we could turn it official?"

holiday ask || @goldentemplariumcrow

Lio was coming over to Tim before it was time to head to the Manor for Christmas dinner. Normally, he loved when his boyfriend came over. Loved every second with him, but today he was extremely nervous. It had taken him three hours just to decide what to wear, something that usually took twenty minutes or less. In the end, he decided on a wine red tailored three piece suit with a black shirt and tie. He would look perfect if it wasn't for his bitten down nails and his messy hair, having run his hand through it too many times already.

Once again his hand goes to the small rectangular box in his pocket. It's a dark wooden box containing a golden skeleton key, the top of it almost shaped like a heart. Something that on its own would seem like an odd gift, but with it is also a small folded note, typed though since Tim's handwriting leaves some to be desired.

When I saw this key, I thought of us. This is our key. I've been trying to find a way to ask you if you want to move in together with me, but never really known how to start that conversation. You already have a key to my apartment, so I can't give that to you again, so I give you this skeleton key with the question "Do you want to live with me?". If you say yes, I don't mind which apartment we live in or if we find a new place, I just want to spend my life with you by my side. Love, Your Little Robin.

Then the door rang and he knew it was Lio. He felt almost sick as he opened the door, but put on a smile anyway. Before he could even return the greeting, Lio rambled off and Tim frowned a little and looked at the small gift his boyfriend was holding. "I-I have something small for you too..." he replied, his voice trembling slightly and he fished out the small, unwrapped, box from his pocket. He couldn't help but notice how nervous Lio looked too. Why was he nervous? Did he really think Tim cared about the size of his gift? The it hit him. Lio had said 'make it official'. His eyes went back to his boyfriend's gift and he recognised that shape. Was that a ring box?

Feeling slightly lightheaded, he opened his gift and stared at it with wide eyes, forgetting how to breathe for a moment. The ring was beautiful. Of course it was, Lio had chosen it. Eventually, he was forced to gulp down air and looked up at Lio. "I-I... it's perfect.. yes... yes, of course... I..." What should he say? There didn't seem to be any good words. Instead he picked up the ring and put it on his finger before a laugh escaped him and he grabbed the front of Lio's shirt, kissing him hard. It was far from the most graceful kiss they had shared.

#goldentemplariumcrow #holiday asks #aaaw cuties

[salmonghana95]

Ej205 Subaru Engine

You could get prize’s for the blue horse, if you were lucky enough to buy a lot of notebook paper. Breakfast Bars, by Carnation were very similar to the chocolate covered granola bars made by Quaker Oats, which are still sold today. Bubble gum with a cherry-flavored juicy center…not ancient old, was available around 2011 Now it’s gone. And nothing can compare to watching movies in your car. It looks like the rats have nested in it all night. Be sure to pull the windows down before you leave. It looks like rain, and bring in the clothes off the line, too.

Grocery stores bagged our groceries in brown paper bags that we reused for numerous things. Most memorable besides household garbage bags was the use of brown paper bags as book covers for our school books. This was to ensure that public property was not defaced by our scribblings. Then we were able to personalize our books on the brown paper bags. We had a Mexican gentleman who pulled a wagon up and down our main street on Saturday selling homemade tamales his wife had made. Our town was near an indian reservation so they still had pow wows that we could hear in the distance.

There was a rumor that they were radioactive, which made them even more desirable to some.

Double Delight ice cream bars, long and narrow vanilla w/a tunnel of fudge through the middle….

The myriad of available continent includes multi-lingual public service announcement videos.

After Yi San passed away, he reunited with Deok Im, and both lived out their love in the afterlife.

There were also neon lights that lit up to indicate shorts and gas leaks. When you were ready to buy replacement tubes, the salesclerk would come over and open up a door below the machine that contained brand new tubes in cardboard boxes. When city cousins had to go to the outhouse we’d throw rocks at it or yell “snake”. The outhouse could get so cold, one could hardly do their business sitting on that cold wood. At night Mom would let the girls use a bucket so we wouldn’t have to go to the toilet after dark. Alaska became a state in January, and Hawaii the following August. Alaska was special to us because my dad was stationed there is WW II. I was at the store buying my dad a chamois when Hawaii was announced as a State over the store PA system in August, 1959. Going to school in summer with no Air Conditioning.

Review: 10 Reasons To Watch record Of Youth: Life Lessons, Cameos, And The Different Sides Of Park Bo Gum

https://bestreviewsca.com/allan-jujube-candy_50665/ In retrospect, he had kind of an adult sense of humor which flew straight over our heads, but he was still a really good guy. I really wanted to see how they operated the puppets and played the cartoons. Even though everybody did say “Hi” to me, it just wasn’t the same. According to Subaru, the tumble swirl intake ports enabled maximum gas pressure to be applied to the piston degrees ATDC when the maximum turning moment on the crankshaft occurred, resulting in a greater power output. I probably brushed all the enamel off my teeth, that and I still drink a lot of Coke and Pepsi. I probably put my dentist’s kids through college, despite my bottle cap “system” and all my brushing. And we didn’t need a computerized gadget to receive a signal beamed from satellites 23,000 miles out in space in order to find the nearest burger joint. The Country Store We’d walk to the corner store carrying pop bottles we had scrounged to exchange for penny candy. The store was small and cramped with assorted canned goods,and a bit dark and had a smell all its own with the old wood floors, which no longer showed varnish. Tongs were hanging on the side of the pickle barrels but most kids usually just reached in and grabbed the one they wanted.

Responses To Memories From Earlier Times For Baby Boomers And Others

Ivory Soag Contest- During the Great Depression, the company asked folks to explain “Why I Like Ivory Soap” in 50 words or less to try to win a car. A tremendous number of people spent hours thinking about why they liked Ivory Soap. Hundreds of thousands of people, without any strong threats or coercion, convinced themselves that they really liked Ivory Soap, resulting in more product sold. Essay results were published in newspapers and broadcast on the radio, providing plenty of free positive promotion for P&G. It belongs to the Triticeae tribe and is closely related to both wheat and barley. This picture is an 1878 oil-on-canvas painting by Ivan Shishkin, depicting boundless rye fields in Russia. The canvas hangs in the Tretyakov Gallery in Moscow. I would interpret the ending more like what happened in the afterlife. After Yi San passed away, he reunited with Deok Im, and both lived out their love in the afterlife. One is how their love story ended in actual history. Also offered on their buffet, fried chicken, and fried potatoes. The glasses broke fast, and the towels were cheap. Dreamsicles were orange sherbet and vanilla ice cream….. Candy- Invented in the 1930s by Pearson’s Candy 7-UP bars first came in milk chocolate, then later in dark chocolate….cost a whole dime and were a big treat. A kid’s gourmet bar, seven small squares of different creams and caramel, on one piece of cardboard, covered in chocolate.

#allan jujube candy

[messers-moony]

Serene | F.H

Paring: Five Hargreeves X Fem!Reader

Summary: Five’s wife has a room in their apartment for her own safe keeping. But Diego’s daughter accidentally reveals her biggest secret.

Her scent was heavenly—a beautiful desired mix of coffee, chocolate, and old books. Waking up beside her was like waking up in a coffee shop during sunrise. Her scent resembled her nature and her personality to a tea.

She was calm, collective, resourceful, and quiet. Much different than he himself. Number Five was just as innovative as her. But he found himself more different than similar. He often acted upon impulse and unable to rest. To his siblings, they were bewildered at how the two of them spent a multitude of years together in an apocalypse.

Nevertheless, opposites attract.

Regardless, she didn’t speak up. Instead, she hid in a corner with a book agreeing with the other person instead of saying her point of view. She hated conflict more than anything. Five, on the other hand, would only make conflict when necessary. He always stood up for himself and his opinions.

It was a communication issue they both had to solve. While in the apocalypse, she didn’t speak for the first month. He was lucky if he even got some form of communication other than a nod or a shake of the head. Eventually, he learned her name was Y/n. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. She looked like her name.

She moved so delicately and smoothly it drove Five crazy. This woman he met was so opposite to him it drove him up the wall. The conflict between the two usually ended up in her quietly leaving the shared apartment and returning later than expected. Which left Five to pull at the tuffs of his brown hair in frustration.

Five overthought everything. This woman was the light of his life, but she couldn’t deal with conflict to save her life, and it made him wonder. Maybe she went through a dark time before the apocalypse. Perhaps the scars on her arms weren’t from accidental burns on the fire. He paced in their main room for hours. It seemed before a knock on the door caught his attention.

The boy opened the door to see his brother, “ Hey, Diego. “

“ Um, hey, Five. “ Regardless of Diego’s nervous greeting, Five gave a reassuring smile, “ Artemis wanted to know if she could stay here for the time being while I’m at work. “

The little girl was Y/n’s pride and joy. The two were so highly similar. Even Artemis found herself cowering at Five sometimes. Five was just a ticking time bomb no one ever knew when it would explode, and it made people nervous. Henceforth Diego was hoping Y/n would answer the door with her soothing nature.

“ Yeah, she can stay here for as long as she wants. “ Five replied softly, looking at the ten-year-old girl, “ Is Y/n here? “ Diego queried.

Five shook his head, “ She went out. I’m sure she’ll be back later. “

“ Alright, well, thank you for taking care of her. “ Diego sighed as Artemis went inside Five’s apartment, “ It’s no problem. “

Diego gave another nervous smile and walked away. The brunet male shut the door and locked it afterward. The little girl never really got along with Five. He didn’t know what to do. Children didn’t mix well with Five, especially an introverted, antisocial ten-year-old girl.

Artemis was gorgeous for her age. Long brown hair that resembled Vanya’s at her age with bangs across her forehead. Striking blue eyes like no other. A pale complexion compared to Diego’s naturally tan one. Her name was almost a contradiction to who she was. This little girl was no independent, strong, brave goddess. Instead, she was intelligent, quiet, and careful.

There was one room in the apartment Y/n didn’t really let anyone into. It was the ‘spare’ bedroom that wasn’t really a bedroom anymore. Five had only been in there a handful of times. It was known as her safe space, so Five respected that. But Artemis seemed to walk right inside. To say it made Five uneasy was an understatement. He didn’t know if she was allowed inside or not.

Five walked into the room and was greeted with bookshelves. It looked much different than the last time he saw it. The room wasn’t huge, maybe the average size of a square bedroom. Black bookshelves covered the walls with a desk sitting in the middle of the room planted on a rug. The only wall space not covered was a window with a tiny navy blue couch placed in front of it.

That’s where Artemis sat with a book in hand; she giggled at her uncle’s lost complexion, “ You haven’t been in here before, have you? “

“ I- I haven’t been in here a lot. “ Five replied in awe of the room, “ Aunt Y/n says she doesn’t let a lot of people in here. “ Artemis’ voice was soft and serene.

“ Yeah, it’s been a couple of months since I’ve been allowed in this room. “ He reminisced, “ Is this where you two talk? “

Artemis nodded, “ We talk a lot in here. This is where she works, and she shows me all her drafts. “

“ She works in here? “ Five queried, completely baffled, “ Mhm! You didn’t know? “ The young girl asked.

“ No, I- I didn’t know. “ He muttered, “ She’s not just an English teacher. She writes books in her spare time. “ Artemis smiled.

“ She does? “ Five spoke, “ Like how Vanya wrote her autobiography? “

“ Kind of. “ Artemis answered, “ She writes fiction novels. “

Five spun around the room, “ Can you show me? “

The young girl didn’t reply. Instead, she looked at Y/n’s desk sitting in the middle of the room. Under the rug laid a key which she picked up. Carefully she unlocked the bottom drawer on the left side of the desk, which held multiple different notebooks full of drafts and notes.

Artemis picked up a navy blue-bound notebook and handed it to him, “ This is her most recent stuff. “

Shocked and astonished at what his wife was hiding from him, he took the navy blue book. He took a spot on the rug sitting next to the open drawer while Artemis went back to reading on the couch. Her handwriting was elegant cursive that she taught herself how to do. The notebook was as messy as Five’s lesson plans for his college students. Nonetheless, he read on.

Life is a journey and full of different surprises. People from all around the world meet in the center for one leading cause. What occurs when tomorrow doesn’t happen? What is indeed on the other side? People tend to believe there’s an afterlife. Others think that it’s game over.

Brooklyn James takes a path into the unknown. A scared adolescent. She takes a brave step to find the answers for everyone. But at what cost? Prophecies advise and warn. People intrigued and fascinated.

When happens when both ends meet?

Five sat on the floor, entranced in her writing. He couldn’t believe his eyes. How has he never seen this before? How was she doing this without him noticing? Eventually, he closed the book and looked inside the drawer. Inside was an envelope with his name on it. Curiosity peaked, he took the envelope and opened it. Inside he found more writings, but all addressed to him. It even went back to the apocalypse.

It’s been about a month now. I was able to find some parchment and ink in an old book store. I can imagine they were selling for the aesthetic of old ways of writing. Thankfully I learned how to write with a quill, or perhaps this note would look like one big black blob. Five seems to be adjusting to me better. I’m scared of him. He’s terrifying.

We’re so different it hurts. He likes to express everything, and I don’t know how to feel about it. My entire life, I’ve been shut down to the point where talking feels like a fruitless effort. Maybe talking to him will help me. But I’m scared. What if he shuts me out as everyone else did.

This is so surreal. We’re stuck in an apocalyptic future—stupid healing powers. I wish I never healed myself sometimes. I didn’t know that after climbing out of my burnt house, this is what the world would look like. Five’s been a great help, though. Sometimes he takes my mind off things. At night he’ll ramble about the constellations, and I like learning about them.

Maybe he thinks I’m asleep or not listening because I don’t talk much, but I’ve learned a lot from him. He makes me want to be a teacher, step out of my comfort zone. I hope he becomes a teacher. He’d be a fantastic math professor.

He continued to read through until a voice made him jump, “ So, you’ve found my locked drawer. “

“ I- I didn’t- I didn’t mean- “ Five suddenly became a stuttering mess, “ I showed him. “ Artemis admitted.

Although Y/n wasn’t mad, Artemis cowered with her head, looking at the floor. Y/n’s voice never held anger, even when she was angry. Her voice was calming, soothing, and laced with honey. It was one of the reasons Five fell so in love with her.

“ Artemis, can you step out to the living room, please? “ She knelt before the girl giving her a tiny smile, “ You aren’t in trouble, my princess. I just want to talk to Five, okay? “

“ I’m- I'm sorry. “ The girl whimpered, and Y/n kissed her cheek gently, “ It’s okay, you aren’t in trouble. I’m not mad. I just need you to sit in the living room for a moment. “ Five stared in wonder at his wife comforting the tiny girl.

The young girl got the message and padded to the living room. Y/n stood up from her spot and stared at her guilty husband. His green eyes looked everywhere except for her e/c ones. He wanted her to yell or be angry with him, but she never was. No matter what, he couldn’t ever make her mad. Her patience were infinite.

“ I suppose you found what I’ve been working on. “ She stated, and Five nodded, “ And you saw my parchment from the apocalypse. “

“ I really didn’t mean to. “ He murmured, and she chuckled, “ You were going to have to find out sooner rather than later. “ Y/n replied.

Without warning, he was embraced. Her arms were wrapped around his torso while her head rested on his heart. The scent of her shampoo reached his nose, a glorious mix of honey and coconut he couldn’t ever get enough of. His arms gently wrapped themselves around her shorter frame while his chin perched on top of her head.

He kissed her hair gently, “ I didn’t mean to snoop. I’m sorry, love. “

“ Well, do you like it? “ She asked, “ Like what? “

“ My drafts, my room, my notes? “ Y/n listed, “ I love it because it’s who you are. “ Five replied softly.

He pulled away to meet her soft e/c eyes, “ This room is who you are as a person. If I had to describe you in one room, it’d be something along these lines. “

“ You aren’t mad I didn’t tell you? “ She whispered, and he shook his head, “ Never. We spent forty-five years together with no privacy because we didn’t have that. When you said you wanted this room to yourself, I didn’t hesitate to agree with you. “ His voice was soft like silk.

His green eyes glittered like gems, “ This is your private room, your safe place, and I shouldn’t be mad at you for wanting privacy. “

She kissed his cheek gratefully, “ Thank you. “

“ Anytime, darling. Anytime. “

#five hargreeves x y/n #five fluff #five fanfiction #five x y/n #five hargreeves fluff #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves #five x reader #number five x reader #number five #five hargreeves x you #tua #tua fanfic #tua au #tua x reader #tua five #the umbrella academy #the sparrow academy

[thatslikely]

lined-paper confessions - s.s.

lined-paper confessions - stiles stilinski x gn!reader

warnings: mentions of fighting (scott and jackson predictably), strict teachers

word count: 1.5k

a/n: head full of stiles rn... requests for our favorite sarcastic boy are open right now so send some in!

Why is every teacher at Beacon Hills High the absolute worst?

Mr. Harris had just rapidly climbed your (highly opinionated) mental ranks to number one: your new least favorite educator. Giving you after-school detention, for doing nothing but watching with horror plastered on your face as Scott McCall, Stiles’ best friend, threw punches left and right at a topless, water-drenched Jackson, who reciprocated every strike as if he were nothing but a reflection. Seriously?

Previously, you had simply been sauntering down the locker-lined hall, Stiles on your right, passionately ranting about some unnamed problem that had him on edge for the past few weeks. You two turned down the empty, cinder-block-walled athletics corridor as he continued to agitatedly let off steam; the setting was decidedly unromantic given the unshakeable scent of overly pungent deodorant and mildew that was all too familiar. 

You clung to every word emitted from his mouth with an almost comical frown like it was a mug of steamy hot chocolate on a bone-chilling winter day. To your disgruntlement, however, his ramblings were stopped mid-sentence when Scott and his wealthy rival Jackson tumbled out from the dingy boys’ locker room, hands clenched in fists and eyes flaming with fury.

Stiles bent down in a rush, poorly attempting to conclude the boisterous brawl with furrowed, concerned brows, but he looked not dissimilar to a toothpick compared to the two burly teammates. 

“Detention for all of you!” Mr. Harris spat venomously as he dashed to the scene, his voice ringing above the grunts and slams that came from the fighting co-captains of the lacrosse team. “Detention now, Stilinski, McCall, Whittemore, Argent, and Y/L/N! Come on!”

You were dragged by the ear to the vacant library, a place which you often resided in whenever you studied with Stiles (often about mythical creatures, to your confusion). Posters that looked commonplace in an elementary school lined the walls, vibrantly encouraging students to pick up a book, or pen works for a writing contest of some sort.

Golden strips of fleeting sunlight peeked through the slatted blinds, and three gum wad-dotted tables were beckoning for the group of you to sit for the next two hours, or until Mr. Harris would finally decide that your soul had rotted away enough to release you.

You were sternly directed to the uncomfortably stiff chair opposite Allison’s, whose eyes shot daggers wherever they glanced. You flashed her an almost unregistrable smile, as if to say ‘hello.’ Slinging the loose straps of your backpack over your seat, your gaze flickering through the pin-drop silent room immediately locked on Stiles’ figure.

Boy, was he perfect.

The unbuttoned flannel over his shoulders speckled with mud from some vaguely mentioned adventure, his soft, tousled hair, that always had a lock out of place, his freckled face, that always bore some goofy expression, all of it. You couldn’t get enough; nothing would satiate your innermost desire for your lips to meld with his’, for your hands to intertwine through the hallways before class, after class, whenever, wherever. 

One eyebrow-cocked, knowing look from Scott in your direction sent Stiles’ umber eyes to meet yours’, an almost confused look swimming through them. He opened his mouth curiously, surely to ask a question, most likely something along the lines of, ‘is there a stain on my shirt?’, but before he could, Mr. Harris seethed, “Take your seats, now.”

Stiles whipped around, not wanting to anger Mr. Harris any further, and he took his seat. The room was quickly conquered with suffocating silence, which the snotty chemistry teacher was bent on ensuring.

You unsheathed a doodled notebook from your backpack, eventually indenting its pages with inky black strokes of various weights and thicknesses. Your habit of penning loose sketches, vague outlines, began one day in math when the clock seemed to tick aggravatingly slow, and every word from the teacher became drawled further and further until they dissolved into the hum of the air conditioning and the chewing of gum: the rhythm of the classroom.

The unconscious lines eventually formed to a familiar portrait: Stiles. Some would be tempted to call him your muse, your kindling of an elegant flame of creativity. You’d always nod your head in complicity more than agreement, for the smart, albeit rebellious boy meant eons more than that to you.  

You had just hit your stride, your wrist’s movements thoughtless and easy, when someone- rather something, hit the back of your head lightly with a small crunch. It was a small, scrunched piece of loose-leaf paper, ripped at the edge. 

You turned your head to the direction that the projectile was tossed at, but both Scott and Stiles appeared to be very, very engrossed in a hushed conversation, neither of their postures attempting to suggest anything suspicious.

You smoothed out the paper of the angular fruitwood table in front of you, attempting to read the almost unintelligible handwriting.

Hey :)

(this is from stiles, by the way)

Your mood lightened a smidge, a grin bubbling onto your face. You tore a piece of paper out of your notebook along the perforation.

Before you threw it in an arch in Stiles’ direction, you penned a response to his note.

Hey ;) how’s detention treating you?

(This is from y/n, by the way)

Crunch.

not great, as expected. I think I saw harris pick his nose. do you have any bleach to douse my eyes in by any chance?

You chuckled a little, a small smirk glimmering on your face for the first time this excruciatingly long afternoon.

Sorry, I’m all out. used it all after I saw Jackson shirtless. how do you survive in the locker room every day?

A smile lifted on Stiles’ face, one so inflated with abundant excitement (and hormones), he might have burst at the seams.

“Man, you’re down bad,” Scott simpered, nudging his best friend’s forearm.

“Shut up,” Stiles hissed with an eye roll.

just keep your head down and you should be fine. one time, Greenberg looked at him a little too long and he nearly turned to stone, like jackson’s abs were medusa or something.

“Passing notes, are we?” Mr. Harris queried with a malicious scowl, his knuckles white from asphyxiating a helpless ballpoint pen. He slinked over to the tables you and Stiles rested uncomfortably in, raising his brow in heavy suspicion. 

Stiles’ deep, dark chocolate-colored eyes widened in worry. “No, sir.”

“I’m keeping my eye on you, Stilinski. You too, Y/L/N.” 

As soon as Harris was out of sight, perched back at the desk and typing furiously, another wad of paper tapped your occiput. 

hey, y/n, there’s something i’ve been meaning to ask you for a while.

The note, while its contents wouldn’t usually spark too much concern, was subtly unlike the few ones you had previously received. The lines of each letter were neater, more methodical. The small blots of ink resting at the conclusion of every stroke were larger, deeper, as if the nib of his pen had rested in the liquidly black pool for a second too long.

Your face scrunched with confusion, and upon noticing your shift in emotion, Allison nimbly tapped your wrist and mouthed, ‘Is everything okay?’

You nodded with wrinkled brows while shakily scratching a reply.

what is it?

Your knee bounced up and down reflexively, clicking from your rapidly retracting pen echoed through the idle shelves and arrays of desktops. It felt like years, centuries even, before a reply finally tumbled at your feet.

do you like me?

(circle one)

yes? or yes? 

Your jaw nearly fell to the carpeted floor in shock as if gravity had been multiplied; your speedily thrumming heart was doing flip after flip in the cavity of your chest. Without a second thought, you quickly circled both of the ‘yes’es as if there were no friction under the ink-dispersing tip of your pen. Before cupping the piece of paper, you scribbled out an additional little note.

wanna go out this saturday?

Stiles’ anxious gaze bore into your hunched-over figure as you giddily wrote your reply. What if you rejected him (even though the page lacked a ‘no’ option, meaning that you would have to add one, which was even worse)? Was it possible for him to ask to go to the bathroom and just never return? Are there any secret werewolf abilities that Scott could use to make him disintegrate on the spot? 

But his overthinking was soon alleviated when he received your response, this time neatly folded into a paper heart instead of a crunchy ball. Each crease was crisp and thoughtful; he didn’t have to unfold your expert origami to know which option you circled (or lack thereof).

He grinned goofily like an idiot as his chocolate eyes glazed your response a million times over, taking in every letter, every stroke, the dot in your ‘i’ or the question mark ending your simple but heart-rate-escalating proposal.

Crunch.

stiles stilinski/teen wolf taglist:

it’s a date then. i’ll pick you up at 6? passenger seat’s already reserved for you ;)

@loulouloueh @when-you-wish-upon-a-starrynight @ronbrokemyheart @dylobilysmomg

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#stiles x reader #stiles stilinski x y/n #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski x you #stiles x you #teen wolf fic #stiles stilinski drabble #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles fanfiction #stiles fic #stiles imagine #stiles oneshot #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles stilinski fic #stiles stilinski fluff #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski one shot #stiles stilinski reader insert #teen wolf fluff #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #tw

[xxxrubytuesdayxxx]

Tease

Hongjoong x Reader

Genre: Teasing and then a little smut

Word Count: 2,441

Concept: It’s your birthday and Hong-Joong wants to make sure it’s a night to remember. Eumak-juseyo [Cue the music please]

Masterlist

“Why?” you demand of Yeosang. “It’s Halloween. It’s my birthday even. We gotta go out. Why do I have to wait here?” Yeosang thinks it over.

“You gotta,” he informs you gravely. “Hong-Joong-hyung said don’t let you leave.”

“Um, okay…” you agree cautiously, curious as to what that little minx has been planning. “Yeosang…” you call after him, as he turns to leave.

“Mwo, noona?” he asks, face carefully impassive.

“He’s not...gonna do anything silly is he? He knows we’re not meant to be...you know…” you clarify, avoiding eye-contact with the younger man. You still see him smirk out of the corner of your eye, although neither of you mention the ‘situationship’ between yourself and Ateez’s leader. 

“He knows,” Yeosang reassures you. You note that he doesn’t actually answer the question.

“Right,” you grin, choosing to let it be. “I’ll just wait here then, shall I?” Yeosang nods politely and then heads out of the room, leaving you frustrated and alone in your costume.

Turns out it doesn’t take long before the boys all arrive, mysteriously sans Hong-Joong, but carrying all manner of sparklers, decorations, loud party favours and an extravagant cake. You welcome them all in happily and clear the table for them to deposit their treasures. Everything is suitably festive and you spend a while comparing costumes and working out who everyone is meant to be, before the lack of your paramour becomes too evident to escape comment.

“Um, where’s…” you start, confused, but Seonghwa shushes you and San guides you over to a seat to feed you some cake.

“Mm...you got mint chocolate?” you ask him, sharing his excitement. “How did you get away with that one?” San laughs.

“It’s your birthday, noona and I know you’re on team mint choco after all, so I insisted.” You’re enjoying the whole vibe, even if Joong’s absence plays on the back of your mind, when Wooyoung advises you eat something else after finishing your slice of cake ‘just in case’.

“Mm-hm...so he is here then,” you guess, following his advice hurriedly as you hear ‘Havana’, as covered by Kim Hong-Joong, start up over the sound system. Yet not even you could have predicted the next move. One by one the boys dance around into the middle of the room, making you laugh with their antics, but then, just as Yunho is completing his routine, the music stops, scratches and begins again, louder this time prompting Yunho to beckon with his hand across the room to the door that leads further into the building.

And through that door stalks your illicit lover, barefoot, avoiding all eye contact and dressed, he claims, as a tiger. Yet his costume consists only of a cute headband with fluffy tiger ears attached and what might, at a stretch be called a collar - the black choker, studded with silver that circles his slender throat. The rest of his outfit entails a pair of ripped and torn black skinny jeans, a studded belt, black denim jacket and a silky black button-up shirt with the top three buttons teasingly undone. He laughs and swats Yunho jokingly away as the younger man tries to dance with him, then continues into the middle of the room as the other boys loiter behind him. Then, once he knows he has your undivided attention, he flicks his bangs out of his eyes, juts his chin towards the ceiling, letting his eyes follow, and then flips his jacket off one shoulder, dropping into a hip roll. Yunho darts back towards him, but he turns away, rolls his hips again and then keeps going while lifting the back of his hand to his forehead to cover his eyes, with a cheeky smirk. The others play along, pulling his jacket almost off as he continues to wiggle his hips and fake-stumbles forwards to stop right in front of where you’re sitting.

Looking at the ceiling again, he flips the jacket the rest of the way back off his shoulder letting it fall to the ground, grabs his belt buckle and works those hips hard, throwing you suggestive looks in between his staged-indifferent glances at the ceiling. Finally he turns his head away so that you can see his jawline and the shape of his pretty mouth as he drags his hand back through his hair and away from his face. When he turns back to face you, he fake-coyly covers his face with his hand again, drags it slowly down, as his hips swivel and then bites at the air once, then again, before breaking character and giggling at himself. The others are in fits of laughter as well, but you’re still staring at him in wonder and not a little turned on by his performance. You shake your head at his giggles with a little smile and he laughs loudly and claps his hand over his mouth, embarrassed, but when he tries to sit in your lap, you wave him off teasingly.

“Ani, ani…” you reprimand him lightly. “Finish your dance, go on. I was enjoying it...maybe a little too much,” you purr, giving him a meaningful look. His big, dark eyes sparkle with mischief and he gets to his feet again and stalks away from you, deliberately using his hips, then turns back to face you, runs his hand down the opening of his shirt, as he rolls his hips like a pro, then pulls it away and quickly back, flashing you his collarbones. The other boys are not quiet during this risque floorshow, of course. Hong-Joong is followed by whoops, cheers and clapping as he grabs his belt buckle again and performs a series of flawless body rolls, with an adorably cheeky smile. That is until he gets it into his head to fling himself onto the ground and grind his hips like he’s humping the air upon which Mingi swiftly intervenes, marching over to pull his pocket-sized hyung to his feet with a warning yell: “Ahhhhh! Stop that! Too far!” 

Hong-Joong giggles with wide-eyed protests of his innocence, then prances out of Mingi’s reach before flinging himself back at the ground and humping the floor this time.

“Right, good, good, enough!” Mingi objects, pulling his hyung to his feet again. Hong-Joong feigns innocence again and then winks at you, before smacking his hand against his own thigh and grinding his hips.

“Mingi!” You gesture for him to move aside. “Let Joong finish his dance, okay?” you object. “Who knows, he might be transmitting vital information to me about what order he likes it in bed, and now you’re ruining the narrative,” you joke. Mingi and San make fake-retching gestures while the others laugh gleefully, except for Seonghwa, who looks like he’d rather just unsee everything he’s seen in the last five minutes.

“Hong-ssi!” you call over to him. Having been somewhat sulkily watching the others tease him, he now cocks his head on the side and gives you an aegyo pose. You laugh and shake your head at him. “Stop that and finish your dance. You've obviously spent a lot of time preparing it," you acknowledge, earning yourself another of his bright, pretty smiles. He spins once, recentres himself with a cute little pout, and then sashays over to you and kicks his legs over your thighs to lower himself onto your lap, with one hand supporting him from behind so he can thrust his hips forward. 

Head lowered Hong-Joong gives you a smoking-hot look, up through his eyelashes, somehow managing not to break his character as your heart thumps in your chest, sending you giddy with desire for him. Seonghwa grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut. Mingi yells in protest, Wooyoung woops in encouragement and the others are still giggling but noticeably more nervously than they were before. You ignore everyone but your pretty tiger-boy, who is now writhing in your lap, as he slowly and sensuously unbuttons and then divests himself of his shirt. You dart a glance at Seonghwa and mouth ‘am I allowed to?’, gesturing at Hong-Joong’s now-naked torso. Seonghwa looks aggrieved, but shrugs, indicating he has no idea nor opinion on the subject, so you resist the temptation and keep your hands by your sides as Hong-Joong climbs off you, pirouettes so that he’s facing the rest of the room, and then sits back in your lap, facing away from you, arching his back like a cat and reaching behind himself to grab your neck and pull you, finally, into a messy kiss.

You wrap your arms around his waist to pull him closer and he makes a cute, pleased noise, but then pulls himself away and stands up, turning to face you, with his hands at his belt buckle. You hold your breath as his fingers work the buckle undone and he flips the top button of his jeans undone, but at this point even Seonghwa shuts him down, dashing over to bend his leader’s arms behind his back.

“Alright, Hong-Joong-ssi! That’s quite enough of that - none of the rest of us want to know what colour your panties are, thank you.

“Mwo?! Hajima!” Hong-Joong yelps, as he twists about, trying to free his trapped wrists from Seonghwa’s grip.

“Wait, wait, wait…” you object, trying to pacify Seonghwa without upsetting his pretty captive. “Why don’t you guys take five...ten even and go investigate the event situation downstairs? I’ll stay here with this little tiger and let him finish his performance, okay?” Hong-Joong’s pout quickly transforms into one of his devilish smirks, knowing his hyung can’t see his face from his vantage point. Seonghwa’s shoulders drop as he sighs his agreement to the proposal.

“Fine,” he allows with another exasperated sigh. “I know he’s been working on this all week, but I thought he was just going to do a muck-around kind of sexy dance and then let it go. I didn’t know he had a full striptease planned,” he defends himself. You give him an incredulous look and shake your head, amused.

“Seriously, Hwa? Does Joong ever do anything by halves?” you point out. Seonghwa shrugs in acknowledgement. “I mean you know him better than I do, so I don’t know what you were expecting, in all honesty,” you laugh. Seonghwa calls to the others that they’re all going to go set up downstairs and they readily agree, chasing each other out the door and leaving Seonghwa to release Hong-Joong’s wrists and follow them out, shaking his head at you both. 

Hong-Joong rubs his wrists experimentally, resets his music and then returns to his theme, stalking back and forth in front of you like the tiger as which he’s ostensibly dressed. He gives you a showcase of some of his sexier moves while he waits for a suitable section of the music and then picks up where he left off, swivelling his hips where he stands directly in front of you, and then slowly unbuckling his belt before unbuttoning and unzipping his skinny jeans with his crotch at your eye-level. You swallow hard, trying not to give in to the temptation, as he bends down to your face level, locking his gorgeous dark eyes with yours and then starts to slowly ease his jeans down over his hips and off his legs, never once breaking your intense, smouldering eye-contact until he’s left in only his tiger-ears, the silver jewellery he never seems to be without...and scarlet-red boxer-briefs.

You try not to stare, though you can quite clearly see the outline of his evident erection through the cotton of his knickers and it’s becoming almost impossible not to touch his naked chest with his dark nipples standing up perkily and his gorgeous clavicles just begging to be kissed. He doesn’t help matters by stalking across the room, dropping to his knees and literally crawling across the floor to end his performance with his head resting on your lap. You raise your hand to stroke his hair gently away from his eyes and he sits back on his knees, cute, with his hands neatly on the front of his naked thighs.

“Can you do the last part, noona?” he asks you softly. “I’m shy.”

“Now you’re shy?!” you dispute him incredulously, with a disbelieving giggle. He nods, unabashed, adjusts his eyelashes with his pointer finger and then looks at you expectantly. You shake your head, trying to stop a smirk from sneaking across your lips, and stand up to lead him over to one of the futons that management leave out for the members to nap on, once they’re no longer trainees.

“C’mon, doll. Let’s take care of this little problem of yours then,” you tease him, deliberately brushing his erection with the tips of your fingers and making him gasp, then moan softly. You pull him down on top of you, kissing him as you get your fingers into the waistband of his briefs and slip them down his legs. He, in turn, pulls the short skirt of your costume out of his way, tweaks your knickers aside with his one unpainted fingernail and then thrusts himself into you with a loud groan of relief, rocking his hips back and forth as you wrap him in your legs and pull him against you.

“Oh my God, ne! Fuck me, Hong-ssi! Harder! Harder-oh-GOD!” you moan, encouraging him. “Oh my...shibal...you were so hot, teasing me with that dance, you know that?” you tell him, between kisses. “I wanted to touch you so much!” He giggles, obviously happy with himself, and keeps kissing your neck and down onto your chest as you praise him. It doesn’t take long before you feel yourself clench around him and then the release of your orgasm floods you, making your whole body tingle with pleasure. You cling onto Hong-Joong, wanting to make sure he finishes as well, wanting to reward him for all his efforts. You can feel his breath hot on your neck as his moans get louder and his hips pump faster and faster until all at once his body shudders and you feel him fill you up, before he collapses next to you, panting for breath.

“I guess we should go downstairs so I can see what other fun and games have been planned,” you tell him with a little smile. He winks and sticks his tongue out teasingly.

“My present was definitely the best though, right?” he checks. You kiss him softly on the lips, throwing your arms around his neck.

“Definitely,” you reassure him, making him beam as he follows you over to collect his discarded clothing and dress himself.

#kpop imagines #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop story #kpop fan fiction #ateez imagines #ateez hongjoong #ateez smut #hongjoong smut #ateez scenarios #kpop scenarios #ateez story

[weelittleweasley]

cant take my eyes off of you (g.w.)

prompt: george feels like he’s on top of the world when he’s with you and he needs to let you know how he feels. 

pairing: george weasley x fem! gryffindor reader

warnings: underage drinking, intoxication, dirty dancing, sexual references (blink and you’ll miss it), language

word count: 2.7k

taglist: @rosaliepostsstuff @harrysweasleys @gcdricreads @lumos-barnes @whizboingies @lumosandnoxwriting @pxroxide-prinxcesss @c-t-h @lol-idk-oops @another-lonely-heart-blog @kaseyrose96-blog @hufflepuff5972 @gryffindcrghost @wand3ringr0s3 @parseltongueswriting @shilohpug @peachypotter @spacexcowgirl @paintballkid711 @vogueweasley​

It wouldn’t be a common room victory celebration without a surplus of various booze, music loud enough to shatter your ear drum, and random students scattered around dancing and screaming to the music. It was a sensory overload at its finest, but you wouldn’t want it any other way. The quidditch victory was well earned against Hufflepuff and the team wanted to celebrate properly. This ultimately translated to getting absolutely hammered before 10pm. 

You stood in the corner of the room, standing next to Hermione and Ginny, sipping on whatever drink Lee had poured you. To be honest, you couldn’t make out what it was; it was a cocktail of miscellaneous liquors that would be sure to have you regretting this decision in the morning.

As you sipped on your beverage, you turned to your two friends and gave them a sneaky smile as the music gets turned up even louder. “Oh, no,” Hermione started. “Don’t give me that look.”

“What? I just want to dance,” you start to back up towards the dance floor, pulling Ginny along with you as she laughs. “Come on, Granger! Loosen up!” 

You and Ginny immediately start to break out into dance, swinging your hips to the music as Ginny chugs the rest of the drink in her cup, you following suit. The liquor is sweet, but burns your throat and warms your chest. When you finish it, you throw your cup to the ground and give into the pulsating base. Ginny laughs as you throw your hands in the air and scream sing the lyrics to the song. It was nice to finally loosen up after a long week.

But you halt your dancing when you feel two arms wrap around your waist, lip attaching themselves to your neck. You immediately flip around to see your George staring back at you, a drunk smile on his lips as a low chuckle fall from his mouth. “You scared me,” you place a hand on your chest before leaning into him, his arms pulling close against his chest.

George’s goofy grin remains on his face as he ducks his head down to press a kiss to your lips. His lips taste of whiskey, his kiss intoxicating you better than the alcohol. George mumbles against your lips, “Figured I’d join you on the dance floor.” He smiles before kissing you again, you smiling and shaking your head, his lips kissing yours against, harder as you place your hand on the back of his neck, drawing him closer to you. The bass of the music pounded through the floor and shook your core as your heart beat faster as George continued to kiss you on the dance floor. Any memory of what you were doing before George came along slipped out of your mind and all you could focus on was the way his body moved against yours as he kissed you.

His hands are gripping your hips as you pull away, hips moving against each other in sync, a smirk on George’s lips. Your faces are inches apart as you giggle, pressed against each other in a sea of bodies on the dance floor. People around you wolf whistled as you danced against George, his eyes not daring to leave yours for a moment. You pressed your backside against George, grinding yourself on him with a cheeky smirk. It was enough to drive George absolutely mad, the look of your body pressed against his, your body feeling the music, rocking against him. It was making his pulse quicken and his face heat up.

He spun you back around to look him in the eyes, a challenging grin on your lips when you saw the lust in his eyes, only being amplified by the alcohol coursing through his veins. “You are trouble,” George tells you with a laugh in his voice, making you bite down on your bottom lip, pulling the soft flesh in between your teeth. George looked unreal in this moment; his chocolate eyes dark with desire, hair messy from running his fingers through it, t-shirt clinging to every muscle on his arms, chest, and torso. Oh, the things you would do if you were alone. 

Daring to make him sweat even more, you pull him down so you can whisper in his ear. “What are you gonna do about it? Punish me?” you ask, tease laced in your voice, before you nibble on his ear gently, causing him to hold back a deep groan. With one hand on his chest, you push him away, giving him the most innocent look you can, big doe eyes that plead naiveté. George shakes his head as he presses his tongue to his cheek, knowing damn well what you were doing. “I’m getting another drink, I’ll be back,” you tell him with a wink. “Don’t go anywhere.”

George just laughs, “Oh, I’m stay right where the fuck I am.” You shake your head and laugh before leaving the dance floor, back to the table where all the liquor was lined up. 

Mixed bottles half full scattered around the table as people crowded around as Ron stood on a chair, his Gryffindor tied around his head as he held up a bottle of fire whiskey, pouring the liquor into people’s mouth as they opened them. The sight was enough to make you laugh; Ron Weasley, assuming his brothers’ old positions of bartender. He locked eyes with you and an excited grin appeared on his lips. He held up the bottle as if to say, You want some? to which you stepped forward, titled your head back, and opened your mouth, Ron pouring one, two, three shots worth of whiskey in your mouth. You swallowed and shuddered at the taste, making Ron laugh out loud. “Bollocks, (Y/N),” he laughed out. Ron handed the bottle off to Dean and hopped off the chair, slinging an arm around your shoulder as you walked away from the mass of people wanting a shot. “I saw you and my brother having a good time on the dance floor,” he winked at you as you rolled your eyes. “He’s bloody whipped for you.”

You and Ron stood at the sidelines, watching George spin Ginny around on the dance floor, goofy smiles on both of their faces before Fred ran over and nearly tackled Ginny as she laughed. George looked over to where you stood with his younger brother and smiled softly. He dropped his left eye in a wink as your heart fluttered with glee. That boy would be the death of you. 

The two of you hadn’t been together long, maybe three months, but it was quite obvious that George was mad for you. Ron had that much right. George had been infatuated with you for awhile and had been trying to get you to go out with him for months before you said yes. You knew that George had no problem getting dates with girls, but you wanted to make him sweat. Even though you found him insanely attractive and funny and sweet, you pretended like you had no interest in him. You made him work for your first date and work he did. After you said yes to being his girlfriend, George was on cloud nine. No one had ever seen George react like this to anything, but that’s how people knew you were special. 

You sighed and looked at Ron, “He’s everything I could ever ask for.” Ron faked gagging as you slapped his arm. But it was all so true. George was a dream come true; you couldn’t believe how perfect he was. He was funny and outgoing and exciting, but also so kind and gentle and thoughtful. George was everything you’ve ever wanted and more. “Hey, you brought it up, don’t blame me!” you pointed a finger in his face as Ron laughed, the two of you continuing to chat and drink, watching the bodies on the floor dance away.

George still remained on the dance floor with his twin and Ginny, laughing and dancing and goofing off. Every once in a while George would look over and watch you, how you spoke to his brother, catching George’s eye every once in a while, you smiling gently at him before going back to Ron. George observed how you spoke with your hands, throwing your head back when you laughed, clutching your sides. He watched as you pulled your glossed lips in between your teeth, nibbling on the sensitive skin. He adored the way your mouth moved when you spoke, the words rolling off your lips like the sweetest honey. Without even realizing what he was saying, he just spoke out to his siblings, “I love her.”

Ginny and Fred abruptly stopped dancing and stared at their brother, faces twisted with both shock and confusion. He was surely drunk and just talking out of his ass, right? George had never confessed to loving a girl before. Fred looks at George and speaks, “Mate, what?”

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. There was a magnetic force that just made George want to stare at you forever and always. The sight of you left him weak, unable to speak. George couldn’t compare you to anyone else; in his eyes, you were the only one. The standard. And he couldn’t believe you were all his. He thanked his lucky stars that he was alive and attended this damned school at the same time you did. “It’s just...she’s just too good to be true, isn’t she?” George sighs, all lovesick. In his mind, he thought of holding you in his arm, feeling like he was in heaven at the touch. Knowing that he was the one who could make you happy and make you feel loved was a dream come true for him. George Weasley was undeniably in love and he fell hard. 

“He’s gone soft,” Fred looks at Ginny who slaps his arm. “Ow! Fuck was what for?” he rubs his arm with a hurt look on his face.

Ginny looks at George who’s eyes have not left you. She looks at George with a small smile; seeing her brother so smitten was heart warming to the youngest Weasley. “Are you...going to tell her?” she asks over the music.

George breaks his stare from you and looks to Ginny. “Should I tell her now?” he asks as Ginny worriedly looks to Fred for advice, but he just shrugs. He didn’t know the first thing when it came to a confession this grand. “I don’t want to wait any longer, but I don’t want to do it in the middle of a fucking party,” he starts to ramble. “But, Merlin, I can’t wait anymore. Should I run outside and go pick flowers from the courtyard? Or should I do a grand romantic gesture here?” he continues to ramble on as Ginny’s eyes just widen more and more with each sentence. 

But before George can continue listing off ways to confess his love, you appear behind him and grab his hand. George turns around and the sight of you almost makes him faint. You sport a happy smile as you look at Fred and Ginny before turning to George and saying, “You wanna go get some fresh air outside?”

Perfect, George thinks to himself. He doesn’t bother excusing himself from the dance floor. George simply holds your hand tighter and runs off with you as you laugh, calling out a We’ll be back soon! to Fred and Ginny. “Or not!” George calls back before leaving the common room, running down the moving staircase, both of you a laughing, tipsy mess.

When you finally make it down the stairs and outside, you take a deep breath in, enjoying the cool, crisp air and how it didn’t smell of alcohol and sweat like the common room. You walk further into the courtyard, happily sighing as George wraps his arms around you as you giggle, looking up at him. He places a gentle kiss to your lips as you smile. “Hi, Georgie,” you coo up at him. Just the sound of your voice make him feel warm inside. 

Breathlessly, he speaks, “Hey, gorgeous.” You can’t help, but let a large smile appear on your face as your cheeks feel hot. The two of you continue to walk, hand in hand, enjoying the others company and the silence and still of the night. 

But inside George’s mind, he was screaming at himself to tell you about how he was feeling and how he couldn’t go another second without telling you how much he loved you. But every time he opened his mouth, the moment didn’t feel right. He wanted this moment to memorable. Something the two of you could look back on fondly. But George was nearly about to blurt it out if he didn’t tell you soon. 

“George? Baby, are you alright?” you interrupt his thoughts, placing a hand on his cheek. He seemed so consumed with thought and it worried you that something was bothering him.

He shook his head and spoke, “Perfectly alright, my darling.” You smiled up at him before walking over to the bunch of roses that bloomed in the corner of the courtyard. You examined the bush for the perfect one and stumbled upon a fully blossomed yellow rose. Quickly, you plucked it from the bush and skipped back over to George, tucking the beautiful bud behind his ear, making the tall boy in front of you blush a wild shade of red. “You look adorable.”

George’s heart was beating so hard in his chest, you could mistake it for a heart attack. Now was the time. It was now or never. Without further hesitant, George just looks at you and lets the words flow out of his mouth. “I love you, baby,” he speaks, simply.

Although the words were so simple, it all meant so much. When the words fell from his mouth, your heart stops and you feel like this is some sort of dream. Your eyes widen as you look up at George who is smiling like a child on Christmas. The look of love in his eyes was enough to make you reciprocate the same goofy grin and giggle. 

George starts, “I love you, (Y/N). Trust in me when I say this. I love you so much. And if it’s alright, I need you. I need you to warm the lonely nights. I need to show you how much you mean to me. Godric, now that I’ve found you and I found love with you, I can’t help but want to spend the rest of my days with you.” His words make tears form in your eyes as love makes your heart swell in your ribcage. “All I want to do is love you. So, let me love you, baby.”

With a breathy giggle, you grab his face and press your lips to George’s, mustering up all the love you had in your body. George is smiling widely into the kiss as you laugh, “I love you.” In between kisses, you keep repeating those special three words to him, only making the boy happier and happier. With one final kiss, you pull away and wrap your arms around him, beaming. “I love you, George. All I want to do is love you.”

He could barely believe that you felt the same way about him. What you had, this love, was real and you felt the same way that he felt. This was everything George could ever want and more. He shakes his head in disbelief, holding your hands in his, as he looks up to the sky and breathes out, “Holy fuck,” making you laugh.

All of a sudden, George jumps up on a bench in the courtyard and yells out, “I love (Y/N)! And she loves me!” You try to shush him, knowing damn well you weren’t supposed to be out of your dormitories at this time of night. “I don’t care! I don’t care who hears me! I’m in love! And she loves me back!” he cries before jumping down and scooping you in his arms, spinning you around as you both laugh wildly. You were in love.

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