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shawtygonemad · 1 year

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CORRUPTED: CHAPTER THREE

Let Me Save You

Masterlist

Rose Hathaway x Dimitri Belikov

Chapter Trigger Warning: Slight NSFW thoughts

[Dimitri POV]

Let me save you. Let me save you. It’s not a rescue if I just want to. Just say yes now, and I won’t tell anyone else. So let me save you. Let me save you.

I approached the CD player with one of the mixed tapes I had in my office. Just as I was about to place it in Rose’s loud voice bellowed out.

“Oh no! We are done listening to your old man music!” She huffed as she stormed over while hastily throwing her hair into a bun. “Give me your phone.”

“What?” I chuckled, thinking she was joking. “No.”

She stared at me for a moment with a challenging look. A second later, she turned on her heels and headed towards the doors that led to the locker rooms and guardian offices.

“Rose!” I called for her, but she ignored me and stepped through the doors.

My lips formed into a tight line as I gave a quiet growl of frustration. With irritation building, I followed her. She was so stubborn and headstrong. I wish she’d just listened to me for once!

I found her in my office. She was sitting on the edge of my desk. Her legs were crossed as she intently stared at my cell phone in her hand. I briefly had to close my eyes. Seeing her sitting like that, in my environment no less, did shameful things to me. Her lips had been slightly pursed as she tried to figure out my passcode. Lips that looked so utterly kissable.

“Comrade, what’s your passcode?” Rose asked with the most irresistible pout.

It was hard to stay mad at her most times. I playfully rolled my eyes as I took the phone from her. After entering the code, I passed the unlocked device back to her. She gave the biggest smile at this. I approached as she was downloading an app. My towering figure leaned against the desk beside where she sat. This made it easy for me to peer down and see what she was up to.

“What’s Spotify?” I asked.

“It’s a music app,” she explained. “We can finally listen to music from this decade!”

“Has it ever occurred to you that I enjoy listening to my current music selection?” I raised an eyebrow.

Rose gave a sigh through her nose before speaking again. “Alright, let’s compromise. What if we create a combined playlist? That way, we can both have the music we like on it. Deal?”

“Deal,” I smiled as I shook her extended hand in agreement.

Her hands were so small and soft compared to mine. She only had a few callouses, which I could tell made her self-conscious. There was nothing for her to worry about, though. Everything about her was perfect. Every bump, dip, scar. It was all incredible and made Rose who she was. All of her imperfections helped turn her so beautiful.

‘Enough,’ I mentally scolded myself. ‘You can not keep thinking of her like that. She is your student, and you are her mentor.’

I needed to take my mind off of her, off of how close our bodies were. Focusing on the task at hand usually helped. My eyebrows furrowed when I focused back on what Rose was doing.

“Why are you adding a song from a playlist named ‘He’s a 10 but he’s in jail’?” I asked, amused.

“Jail isn't fun, but some pretty good songs can come from it,” Rose stated nonchalantly.

“You’ve been to jail?” Amusement dripped in my voice as I raised my eyebrow once more.

“Once,” the novice so plainly confirmed. “In Monopoly.”

This caused her to laugh out loud at her own joke. I chuckled and shook my head at her antics. How was this girl the most humorous person I’ve ever met? Ivan would have been so disappointed to learn that she took his triumphant place as the comic relief in my life. He would have loved her, though. They are so much alike. Their humor, mischievousness, and overall confidence. The two of them would have been as thick as thieves and definitely would have conspired against me.

The blaring sound of my phone’s ringer went off, disrupting my dream. My eyes scrunched with annoyance as I tried to bring myself to full consciousness. I rolled over and leaned on my elbow as I snatched the phone from the bedside table. The ringer must have still been all the way up from being at the club last night. God forbid Zmey lets me miss one of his phone calls.

Speaking of which, his name was on the caller ID. I glanced at the last retreating strands of daylight slipping behind the hotel curtains. Why would he be calling me this early in the Moroi morning?

“Belikov,” I answer, my voice deep from sleep.

“Guardian Belikov, please don’t hang up! It’s Lissa. I need to talk to you,” Vasilisa’s sweet, but anxious, voice came through the speaker.

Hearing her voice kicked me back into my guardian drive.

“Princess? Is everything alright?” I asked, wide awake now.

“Yes. Well… no. I need you to stop your search for Rose,” she pleaded. “Please.”

“Princess, I-”

“Just listen! I think there is a way we can save Rose. She trusted you, so I know that means I can trust you too. Now I just need you to trust me,” Vasilisa said.

I paused for a moment to consider before responding. “Okay.”

“I know Rose told you about everything: the car accident, my abilities, our bond. After some research, I have a theory that I’m confident will work. My spirit brought her back from the dead once, and I believe I can do it again,” the princess explained. “As a strigoi she’s technically dead, or undead, or whatever! If I stake her, bringing her to the brink of death again, then use my spirit… I think I can resurrect her. I can bring her soul back.”

My whole world froze. The only sound I could hear was my heart rapidly beating inside my chest. Could this be true? I’d be absolutely anything to bring my Roza back to me. Only this sounds like a fairytale. There have never been any recorded instances of Strigoi being resurrected. Although that’s what I’ve always thought about Spirit.

I knew my neighbor in Baia, Oksana, claimed to be a Spirit user. Sadly, I just never fully believed her. It wasn’t until I saw it used right before my eyes with Vasilisa. Rose was living, breathing, proof that it was real. I’ve read reports on their accident. There should have been no survivors. Yet those two girls lived to see the next day. So maybe the princess is right. She brought Rose back from death once. Why couldn’t she do it again?

“Hello? Are you still there?” Vasilisa’s voice called out through the receiver.

“Yes. I’m just… processing,” I replied.

“I know it’s a lot to take in. We- ooo!” Her voice waiver before she took a quick pause. “Sorry about that. I just got a random chill. Anyway, we need your help. Where are you? We can send someone to get you.”

“Princess-”

“No buts! Listen, I know you basically threw everything away when you went looking for Rose. If you help with this then I can personally promise you’ll be welcome back to the guardians with no repercussions. All we need to do is get a plan together. I believe we can do this. We all do!” She encouraged me.

“Thank you, princess. That’s all very kind of you. But if I do return to the guardians then I will take whatever punishment they hand out to me. I went AWOL and it’s nothing to take lightly.” Then something clicked into place. “I’m sorry, did you say we? Princess, before I forget to ask, why are you calling me from-”

A new voice joined the line. The same one that always managed to send chills down my spine. He spoke in fluent Russian. I assume to be sure those near him didn’t hear what he had to say.

“Belikov,” Zmey greeted. “I need to know that you’re fully on board with this. I know that all of this sounds like nonsense, but I believe this could work. I’ve heard stories of Strigoi being restored in the past. Maybe two or so cases. However, the Dragomir princess’s theory sounds the most plausible when it comes to the how. I think it can be worth a shot.”

I sighed before speaking. I needed to remember that this was for Rose.

“I’m in,” I answered.

“Excellent. Now, are you in the same location I gave to you a few days ago? I can send for a plane to come get you,” Zmey continued.

“No. It was a deadend. I’m in Wilmington, Delaware, now. Choice Inn and Suites near the airport,” I replied.

“You’re not too far from here then,” he said before speaking aloud and in English. “Paval, have a plane sent to pick Belikov up in Wilmington, Delaware.”

A distant voice of Paval could be faintly heard.

"Well, his hotel is about a 10 minute drive to the airport. So he can just meet you there," Zmey discussed with his guardian.

“Where are you? And why are you with the Dragomir princess?” I snipped as I could feel my frustration building.

“Lord Szelzky typically resides in Nepal. However, he does have an estate in Pennsylvania for when he is needed at Court. That’s where he’s been residing for the last month or so. However, the home was attacked by a Strigoi. Lord Szelsky and one guardian were killed. Can you guess who that Strigoi was?” Bitterness seeped into Zmey’s mouth.

My blood ran cold, and I prayed that I wasn’t right. “Rose.”

“There was only one survivor she left alive, and that was her mother. She has a severe concussion, a few broken ribs, and chest contusions. All of that so she could give you a message,” more venom dripped into his voice.

“A message?”

“She told Janine to tell you to come and find her. That she’ll be waiting.” There was a pause before he continued. “Be at runway nine in two hours. Guardian Pavel will be there to greet you.”

The line went dead and I felt my stomach sink. I was the reason for Guardian Hathaway’s injuries. But how did Rose discover that I was tracking her? I’ve kept my location and plans secretive. People made assumptions, but they never had concrete evidence. I just turned in my resignation to Alberta and left without further notice.

I groaned as I could feel a headache forming. My hands ran up and down my face a few times in hopes of alleviating it. Sadly, it didn’t help. So instead, I decided to get up and take a shower.

It wasn’t very long. Most times I use the shower to think and contemplate. Sometimes even daydream about a certain brunette being in there with her. Her warm, wet, skin pressed up against me from behind. Her worn hands sliding up the sides of my back before meeting together in the front. Then she’d slip those hands down my chest agonizingly slowly. Moving down their path until they graze the dips in my hips before grasp my-

No. It had to be a short shower. My things still needed to be packed up before I headed off to the airport. From the sounds of my stomach suddenly growling, I should probably grab something to eat on the way as well.

It didn’t take long to pack, so that left me with plenty of time to get food. By the time I stepped outside, darkness had completely fallen everywhere. My guard needed to be up even more now. Especially since Rose knows that I’m looking for her. As I made my way through the parking lot to my car, I kept my eyes scanning the surroundings. Everything looked to be clear. I unlocked the door and quickly got in. Or as quickly as I could get into a Honda with my 6’7” frame.

Once inside I locked the doors and tossed my duffle bag to the front seat. Just as I turned the car on and settled in, I heard her voice. Like a beautiful angel of death coming to reap my soul.

“Hi Comrade,” Rose whispered in my ear.

Before I could even move, everything went black.

{Song Inspo: Let Me Save You by Emily Rowed}

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romitritrashswiftie · 2 years

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I can’t remember if I’ve rec’d this before but if you haven’t read this fic GO RIGHT NOW AND READ IT!! It’s so good.

#Romitri #fics #va fanfic #Romitri fanfic #no strings attached #vampire academy #dimitri belikov #rose hathaway

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vasiktomis · 4 months

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Reverse Psychology (Reigen Arataka x GN!Reader, 18+)

Rating: Explicit (Minors do NOT interact). Word Count: ~2400. Tags/Warnings: No use of Reader pronouns. Negging. Office Sex. Pining. Service Submission. Confessions. Doggy-style. Creampie. (and it isn't a vasiktomis work without) Premature Ejaculation. Consensual Non-Consent. Read it on Ao3 Here!

“I’d had my suspicions, but I didn’t — ah — realise you were this into me.”

He’s such a loser, you think, gasping as he gracelessly gropes and grabs at your waist, your hips, your thighs. He’s such a scumbag. You want to bash his skull in. He’s adorable.

You won’t lie; you know he’s overestimating your infatuation with him. You’re sure he doesn’t actually believe what he’s saying — it’d just be mighty convenient for him if you believed it. Even when he’s got you pinned to the wall, body flush against yours, panting into your neck while he tries to recover from getting too lost in feverish kisses, he can’t drop a con when the opportunity presents itself.

Lucky for you, you know him too well to feel hurt over it, let alone fall for it. It’s always been like this between the two of you; Reigen, in all his arrogance, negging the shit out of you for as long as you’ve known him. Baiting you into seeking his approval, his attraction, when all he does behind your back is stare. You’d been wise to it from week one, but you hadn’t realised how bad he had it until you’d paid him to house-sit while you were on vacation with friends last year. When you’d come home to respectfully watered houseplants and a hamper full of underwear that weren’t crusted with cum and shamefully shoved to the bottom of the basket when you’d left it.

You’ve known as long as he has that he’s wanted you, but its just too fun, watching him make a fool of himself while he’s trying to bait you into throwing yourself at him.

It’s the little things that beckon your attention, and he probably hates that. The sincerity and care that creep out of the cracks when his apprentices arrive in a less than stellar mood. The underlying consideration he puts into not giving a shit about you. He’d never buy you dinner, no fucking way, but he sure has a running list of all your favourite foods specifically so he can have you pressure him into sharing a cold mouthful after an unnecessarily long monologue about fending for yourself.

He broke first. You knew he would. Finally, after all this time gloating about girlfriends that don’t exist and shoving unwarranted dating advice at you, he gave in. At the most boring moment too — not even during a fight or while one of you were inconsolably crying. You’d just gotten too close on your way past when you were leaving the agency for the day, and he just broke.

It must be a blow, after all that work he put into the facade. You’d heard the resigned sound in his throat when he’d rounded on you, hands finding your shoulders, kissing you open-mouthed before you’d even had a chance to kiss back. It just wouldn’t be like him to let that image slide.

He’s bolstering his ego with all this dominance, and you’re happy to let him. If you’re honest, you kind of like it; letting him believe he’s fooling you. He’s taking charge, but the power’s all yours. It’s your decision to call him out whenever you like, and if he wants to spend the first shot he’s had at you lying, it feels only reasonable to make him work for it.

You give him nothing. A blank canvas to project onto and a tongue in his mouth in lieu of something he might be able to hold against you later.

It's perfect. He pulls back, delighted.

“God, I knew it. You don’t even try to hide it.” Reigen mutters, frantically tugging at buttons and fabric to shift his attention to your chest. The kisses he smears on your clavicle, your sternum, over the swell of your tits, are hurried and sloppy, already not quite living up to how cool he’s trying to play this. “I bet you’re already ready for it.”

Bad performer’s trick: rush you through to the sex so you never have to find out he’s terrible at foreplay. Or, maybe he’s concerned he can’t hold his nut long enough.

God, he must be terrified beneath that facade.

You just have to fuck him.

You reach down, fumbling with his belt, and he gasps, at least before he squashes the sound into an elated little laugh. “You don’t have to go so fast.”

And there’s the gaslighting.

You don’t slow, but he’s parted from you enough to give you the space to do what you need to do, unbuckling and unbuttoning and unzipping, all while keeping your eyes on his. You watch his expression cloud with something little less controlled. More sincere. Boyish. Then, you take your hands away, and his throat bobs. Nervous. He’s sweet, under it all. And so, so scared of showing it.

It’s a shame.

Maybe if you do this a few more times you could coax it out of him.

“You’re not gonna make me beg, are you Arataka?” You purr, watching a bead of sweat form and slip on his brow in the time it takes for you to be forward enough to call him by his first name. “After keeping me waiting this long?”

“H-how long?” Reigen chokes, barely audible. Then, he clears his throat. A second try, peppered with a cocky little smile. “How long.” He dips his face back into the crook of your neck, resuming his assault, picking a wise time to hide his face.

Your hand slips down the front of his pants, palming him through the fabric of his underwear, and his whole body jolts. “You tell me.”

It’s like he can’t get close enough, anchoring himself to you. He fumbles to reach you the same way, but the position is already awkward standing this close. Momentarily, he’s at your mercy. “I don’t know. A little above average? I’m not the kind of insecure guy who needs to brag about that kind of thing.”

He’s so full of shit.

You guide his cock out of his underwear. Nothing to be very impressed by. Below average, if you’re honest. Not particularly girthy, either, but there’s a pleasant upward bend you’re sure you could have fun with. A slick pearl of pre-cum forms on the slit when your thumb traces up his already tugging foreskin. He was ready to go before you even started touching him.

Who are you to deny yourself the enjoyment of watching him embarrass himself?

You take his hand, and he watches, transfixed as you spit into his palm before turning yourself to face the wall.

“That’s-...really gross. You should probably ask people before you do that sort of thing.” There’s a shudder in his voice as he chides you. A slick sound and a hollow inhale as he works your saliva over his cock. You ignore him. The quaver in his breath gives his excitement away, and you help shove down your pants just enough to grant him access.

Reigen struggles, of course he struggles to line himself up at first. He takes a moment to tilt his hips the right way, to tug at yours. When he sinks into you, it’s all the way, fingers bunching your shirt to push just a little further. Just to make a point of it.

He pauses like that, holding his breath, one hand cupped over his mouth as he cranes over your shoulder. Savouring the feeling as much as you are, you assume — at least before you feel his cock throb inside you, and his whole body goes stiff. A choked gasp almost makes it past Reigen’s palm, diaphragm quaking against your back.

He’s absolutely coming, and if you weren’t too proud you’d admit, the angle of his acceptable cock throbbing against one particular bundle of nerves almost has you dizzy yourself. Utter fluke. It has to be.

Reigen’s body slackens a little. The orgasm passes. In your periphery, just over your shoulder, he looks downright horrified.

“Did you just-“

“What? No.”

The mask is back on in an instant. Reigen’s hand joins the other at your hips. He pulls out halfway. Sinks back in. The slide is thick. Gathering around your entrance, smearing the crux of your thighs. God, even his balls are wet against your ass. Just how much did he nut?

It’s -…kind of hot.

“Are you used to your partners not lasting?” He asks. You look down, tempted to see if he’s managed to make a mess of your underwear, and the bastard’s fingers snap to your jaw, angling your face back up for a kiss. He’s desperate for you not to know. Fine. You’ll play along. “Eyes up.” He breathes against your lips, punctuating with a thrust before he settles into a rhythm in you. It’s adorable, the dominant act. You can’t wait to smush him like a bug. “I asked you a question.”

“Arataka.” You attempt, shocked to find yourself choking on the word as he keeps going, wise enough to know not to stray once he’s found a spot that you respond well to. “Fuck, I-“

“It’s okay, I know.”

Something awful and delicious shakes through you. That shouldn’t have had such an effect on you as it does. What’s this guy’s deal?

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t have a damn clue. But he really goes the extra mile to convince you otherwise.

“You should — touch yourself.” Reigen grunts into your hair. “I don’t plan on finishing until you do.”

You wonder if that’s Reigen-talk for ’oh fuck I’m gonna blow again’. You wonder if you should take your time, just so you can find out.

Oh, but why would you ruin his good time? It doesn’t help that the idea of coming with him in you is a pretty enough thought that you’re doing what he tells you.

With only one free arm to cushion you against the wall while Reigen ruts into you, you manage to find enough space for the other to see to your own needs.

It’s humiliating, the sound that escapes you when your touch compliments his own. He must feel the same way when his breath hitches in-kind, groaning at the feeling of your own pleasure clenching around his cock.

“Keep talking.” You manage, burying your own face into the back of your hand. He’s too close. He’ll hear how much you’re actually enjoying this. He’ll see it on your face. “Keep talking to me, Arataka.”

“Fuck—“

Oh, of course he liked hearing that.

“I — I can’t —“ His words diminish to a whisper you’re not even sure you were supposed to hear. “I can’t believe you’re letting me do all this to you.”

You can’t, either. And yet, here you are. Raising onto your tippy-toes, rolling your hips back to angle him deeper as if his balls aren’t already swiping you with each thrust. Big mistake, you realise. His cock drags against something that has you shuddering, hurtling toward your own end. There’s no helping it. No helping you. Not when Reigen’s arm coils around your waist, pulling you so close that you can’t chase his movements anymore. The other locks over your chest in a desperate embrace. He’s barely pulling out before he’s ramming back into you now, nearly folded over you at this point. Something drapes against your shoulder, and god help you, you surrender your bracing arm to grab at it, letting your face squish against the wall without anything to cushion it.

Your fingers wrap tight around that stupid tie, keeping his chin hooked over your shoulder. A yelp slips out of him. A new pitch. Your core burns from the awkward posture, from exertion, from the delight of having him come so undone by you despite all his efforts.

It’s —

“I’m close.” You pant. “I’m close — I”m so close—“

His grip on you is suffocating. Fingers wrench at your shirt.

Reigen lets out something akin to a sob. “God, please — I’m so fucking crazy about you. Please, come, please, please—“

It hits you without mercy, tearing through you with a helpless whine. Were it not for being sandwiched right now, your trembling legs would give out beneath you. Instead, you’re held in place by Reigen’s desperate little ruts, unwittingly drawing your orgasm out each time his cock hits that spot again, muscles chasing the motions. Constricting around him, spurring him on.

You’re shaking when it passes, paled thoughts only brought back to coherency by the increasing pitch of Reigen’s breaths. Mouthed words evolve into a barely comprehensible muttering of ’oh shit, oh fuck, oh shit—‘ before he’s finally aware he has the green light.

“Where?” He pants, “Where do you want it? Can I finish inside?”

Is this guy for real?

You can’t even form a response. You’re too busy drooling against the wall, face smearing against the wet spot with every thrust.

Reigen seems to take no news as good news. As if he ever had a choice. The pitch in his breath reaches a crescendo, and with your last rational thought, your last ounce of strength, you yank his tie, hard. His posture curls around yours, clinging to you with a delectable sound. His cock throbs again, and your face squishes into the wall even more as Reigen’s own legs tremble, forcing him to brace his weight forward as he empties himself into you.

For a while, he catches his breath, still holding you to him. You feel his lips ghost over the back of your neck like he’s considering a kiss — but suddenly he finds it too bold a move. He shakily steps back, and all of a sudden he’s folded onto his knees with a tired grunt.

Left without your counterweight, you sink to the floor with him, leaving a snail-trail of saliva in your wake as you slide down the wall and settle down. Weakly, you flip onto your ass, still too dazed to bother with the clean-up just yet.

Across from you, Reigen gingerly feels through his jacket pocket. "Great. My pants are ruined. You wanna go halves at the coin laundry?" The sweat stains in his armpits almost reach his waist, and his business shirt is so damp it's near-translucent. He can’t take his eyes off the cum that seeps out of you, onto the floor.

“That was a lot.” He comments, clearing his throat. He finds that cigarette and tucks the box away without offering you one. “Wouldn’t be surprised if that was like, two loads worth.”

You squint at him. “Man, would you shut the fuck up?”

#reigen arataka #mob psycho 100 fanfic #as usual: if you see a typo no you didn't #reigen arataka x reader #vas fics

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zensations35 · 2 months

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Don't Cheat On Me (Haz/bin)

Yall were warned, here's another haz/bin fic. The hotel gang playing some board games. Vaggie reacts to them cheating. I played with morals and Angel being cute and Alastor being a sneaky bitch. This takes place mid season 1, cuz I wanted Pentious involved! Okay enjoy!

Husk sets the final two drinks on the table, taking care to scoot them far out of the way of the game board. Angel is propped with his elbow on his knee, chin resting on his palm as he concentrates on his next move.

“Alright,” he pinches one of the sheep tokens and moves it from the vale to his farm--which he dubbed ‘Haven’.

“What are you gonna do with all them sheep, Angel?” Husk asks.

“Nothing.”

“You aren’t going to eat them?!” Pentious yawps.

Angel squeaks. “No!”

Vaggie grumbles. “You’re gonna break the game. They’re currency for other shit.”

“Yeah! To be slaughtered!” Angel’s gold tooth winks in frustration.

Charlie, ever the ray of sunshine, even when talking about animal slaughter, picks up a game piece shaped like a human. “It’s to feed the meeples!” She dances it around happily.

Angel frowns. “Fuck the meeples.” He wraps his lower arms protectively around his sheep farm. “They’re my sheep. I can do whateverthefuck I want with them!”

Husk groans. “Rgh, just let Angel keep his damn sheep. We have other food sources for our population.” He flicks through his action cards, ears twitching with every shush of the card.

“Fine…” Vaggie grumbles. “You’re next, Pentious.”

Sir Pentious taps his fang with a bent claw, considering. It makes a soft tip tap tip tap. His eggbois start giving suggestions like “Trade for his sheep!” “Buy more lumber!” “Steal Vaggie’s coins!” Until soon they’re all chanting “STEAL! STEAL! STEAL! STEAL!”

Vaggie saws at her teeth, scrunching up her nose and suppressing another growl.

Charlie turns to her and offers a supportive arm squeeze. Then she looks encouragingly at Pentious and says, “We don’t steal. It’s very wrong.” She waggles a finger. “What should we do instead?”

Sir Pentious attempts to calm his eggs down, clearing his throat. “Yes, well, ahem. Eggbois!” He slithers into a spine-erect position, being commanding as he ever can manage. “We do not steal. That would be,” he cracks a small grin as if trumpets were blaring all around them, “Against the rules!”

Charlie claps, eyes glazed with pride.

Angel rolls his eyes and waves an upper arm, “Then, what are ya gonna do?”

Pentious hums for another long moment, tail swishing. Not surprisingly, one of the eggbois does not seem to take his words to heart. It clambors under the table and…is Vaggie seeing this? Is anyone else seeing this?? The eggboi’s hand pops up on Husk’s side of the table. Husk, who is mid drink, is too distracted to notice. The eggboi swipes several coins and scrambles back to Pentious, depositing it faithfully by his own pile.

Nobody says a word. Nobody else but Vaggie seems to have noticed.

Her mouth opens to warn them about the absolute betrayal taking place but instead, she’s overcome with a completely feral sensation in the core of her sinuses.

“Ih-hih!” Instinct has her hands forming a protective shield over her face, just as her shoulders shudder. “Eip’Sshieu!” her entire body cracks forward and Charlie gasps.

“Vaggie! Are you okay?” she massages the spot on Vaggie’s arm where her girlfriend bumped the table.

“Yeah, fine,” Vaggie waves her off, shooting a daggerlike glare at the clueless eggboi. Her eye narrows at Pentious who is taking his turn. Obviously the eggboi stealing the coins counted as cheating. But did it count as Pentious himself cheating if he didn’t know about it?

Vaggie heaves a sigh. Morals, she was learning, were fickle.

Husk has already decided what to do--two turns ago. He lays down an action card and helps himself to the public lumber market.

All eyes flick to Alastor. His strategy has been the hardest to read. His moves don’t seem to benefit himself much, but he’s made several plays that have changed the course of the game so far.

His red eyes glide over the cards in his clawed hand, his lips in a loose smile. He plucks a card and hands it to Angel. Angel raises the eyebrow above his dark eye and accepts the card. He looks shocked when he sees it.

“What the fuck?” he waves it at him.

Alastor just smiles and shrugs.

“What?” Vaggie swings her head left and right, looking between them both. “What did he give you?”

Angel snorts. “Wouldn’t you like to know, sweetcakes?” he shimmies his shoulders suggestively.

Vaggie clutches her cards tighter. She wishes Alastor would say something. Normally no one can get the guy to shut the fuck up, but during game night, he’s eerily silent.

Charlie nudges her. She needs to take her turn. Vaggie peers down at her spread. Her cards are shit, she’s poor as fuck, and her meeples are isolated and starving.

Charlie sees Vaggie’s shit pit situation and her mouth tips down, the circles of her cheeks bobbing softly. “Oh, Vaggie,” she scrapes a handful of coins together and holds them out. “Do you want some of my gold? I have enough for my turn.”

Vaggie sucks in a breath, the itch more like a stab this time, and she flattens her hand over her face. “H’SHUiew!” she presses her palm firmly to her nose and lips as her shoulders flutter in tune with her throat, “Heig’SGM!”

What the fuck? That counted as cheating?! But Charlie was trying to help.

Rgh! This is a fucking board game!! Not a reason to revisit moral trauma!

A faint but curious hum trickles next to her right ear, where Alastor sits. Her heart skips and she catches a hint of scrutiny behind his flippant smirk.

What is he thinking??

“Vaggie?” Charlie’s voice pulls her from her paranoia.

“Not getting sick, are ya?” Husk grunts.

“Oh please do not infect us!” Sir Pentious drums his fingers together, “I don’t handle illness well at all!”

“I’m fine,” Vaggie snarls, slapping a card down--something barely helpful at all--and calls it a wash.

Charlie pushes a pile of gold into the pot and buys four apples and a sheep. Angel looks dismayed at this and he’s eyeing the last six sheep in the vale.

“Angel…” Husk’s voice is low and gravelly, like coins scraping together, “you really should think about gathering resources for your plot. You don’t even have enough coins for--”

Angel slams down a card: infinite sheep.

Vaggie’s mouth unhinges and she darts her eye at Alastor. The smug on his face says it all: that’s the card he gave Angel. What the fucks?

Angel scoops the rest of the sheep from the vale and places them delicately in his farm. He now owns 80% of the fucking sheep in the goddamn game.

Vaggie glares at Alastor, her hand flying in circles as she speaks, “Why did you give him that? You could have used that on Angel to steal all of his sheep!”

Angel’s hair flops into his dark eye as he gapes at them. “You could do that?” his voice breaks on the last word.

Alastor ignores them, eyes intent on organizing his meeples, apples, and coins by size and color.

Sir Pentious chooses to sell a few things for money--lumber mostly--but he miscounts and an argument sparks between him and Husk about how much lumber Pentious added to the pile.

Vaggie hiccups her next breath, drops the meeple she was organizing, and spills a “Hg’KtSHieW!” into jangled fingers. She grunts, pinching her nose and sniffling. “Can’t we snf just snf start the turn over and--”

“NO!”

The boys both yell together, wings and hood fanning out as they both scramble to grab at the pieces of lumber they’re arguing over.

“Ai’kTChieh!” Vaggie slumps and sighs. This is getting chaotic.

“Do you need some medicine?” Charlie asks, looking for all the world, more helpless than Vaggie herself.

Vaggie waves her away with a stuffy sniffle, “Seriously, I’m fine.” It wouldn’t help anyway. What Vaggie needs is a break and--

Something enters her field of vision. Right under her nose, a rose colored cloth held by Alastor, of course. He smirks at her, teeth bared, glassy eyes dark and discerning.

Vaggie snatches the handkerchief out of his hand making sure he feels the anger in her shaking fist, but it only seems to amuse him further.

Shitass.

Does he know? Like…know know?

Rgh! She snarls her noseblow as rough and messily as she possibly can into his stupid fucking hanky, then wads it up and offers it back to the Radio Demon.

His grin doesn’t falter one centimeter. Before the cloth can penetrate his personal space, it dissolves into a pool of smoky shadow, leaving Vaggie grasping black air.

UGH! I can’t even spite him!

A clicking static whines from the Radio Demon and he turns back to the game. He’d better not be fucking laughing at her.

It’s Alastor’s turn and again he chooses generosity--this time toward Husker, who just lost his turn to bad luck.

Alastor plays a sheep pass card where all of his sheep will be traded for all but one of Husk’s cards. Husk accepts, stating “my cards’re shit anyway.”

And it’s back to Vaggie. She’s still in a Not Great situation with her farm. Her only cards are to trade lumber for sheep--which no one will go for since Angel is a fucking hoarder and pickings are slim--or to buy stuff at the market, which--

“Hih-ih!” F-fuck! Her eye rolls up, squinting through a tear as her teeth chit into a snarl. “HgtNGSH!”

“What the fuck, Pentious!”

“I did nothing!” the snake insists.

Angel puffs out his chest. “Oh yeah? Well I saw ya! You stole one of my sheep!”

“I did no such thing!”

“Then why do you have a sheep. You didn’t have any on your turn.” Angel points at the lone sheep in Pentious’s farm.

“My ssspecial ability allows me to--”

“Give me that!” Angel swipes the sheep out of his farm without waiting for his explanation.

Pentious’s hood fans, his tongue flicking out, irate. “How dare--”

“Ih-Shieu!” Vaggie’s elbows stab into the knobs of her knees and she heaves a breath.

“Hey! That’s mine!” Angel’s screech and scrambling is half-ignored at this point as Vaggie firmly tents her hands in a triangle over her mouth and nose. She’s had enough.

Husker joins the fray in an attempt to cool the brawl but the snake and spider won’t relinquish their stolen pieces.

Charlie tries to step in, explaining why this is wrong and how to apologize but she can hardly get a word in. Alastor continues to sit calmly with his smile, looking giddily around the table as if he had just been served a feast.

Vaggie feels the pull of another tickle and she snarls. She throws herself to her feet and hollers, “Stop fucking cheating!”

Everyone pauses, Angel’s body stretched halfway across the table, Husk holding Pentious’s arms back, Charlie’s hands clasped together in plea. They all look at Vaggie.

Then, “He started it!” all three boys say in unison.

“These games are about following rules! Not cheating! The only ones in this whole game who haven’t cheated are Husk and Alastor! If you can’t manage to do better than the fucking Radio asshat, then…” her eye flicks to Charlie and her heart plinks in her throat.

Charlie looks hurt. The gold of her eyes splashed like sunrise reflected off the ocean.

Fuck. Vaggie just accused her of cheating. And she compared her morals to Alastor. Shit fuck shit fuck. And Alastor is just sitting there, kicking his feet, staring at them with his chin in his palm as if he’s watching a show.

“RGH!”

Vaggie whirls and storms off, clattering through the double doors and slamming them behind her.

“Jeez,” Angel slumps back in his chair. “It’s just a--”

Husker cuts him off with a palm chop. “If you say it’s just a game, I’m gonna take all of your damn sheep and feed them to the snake’s eggs.”

Angel’s lips tighten and he moves protectively around his farm pen.

Charlie looks toward where Vaggie left and sighs. “I need to go after her. She’s upset.”

“Looks like you’re upset too, sweet cheeks.” Angel draws a circle around Charlie with his lower hand.

Husk smacks him and shoos Charlie. “You do you. We’ll figure this shit out. Trust me,” he turns a scrunched snarl toward the misbehaving duo, “I got plenty of experience with cheating fools.”

Vaggie sits on a couch, arms wrapped around herself. If she had told Charlie sooner, this wouldn’t be an issue. She just…

Can’t risk losing her. Can’t risk being abandoned. Having no one…

She shudders and takes a calming breath. Pushes it out of her mind.

No one suspects, right? There’s no proof even if they do. She’s safe. All Vaggie needs to do is--

The door creaks open and Charlie’s head appears between the wood.

“Hey Vaggie~”

Vaggie pushes at her eye and sniffs, “Hey.”

Charlie closes the door and carefully shuffles toward her girlfriend. “I’m so sorry for…well, all of that.”

“No, I’m sorry!” Vaggie takes her by the shoulders, “I was being stupid. I just…” she drops her hands and rubs one over her thigh, “I see the worst in people, I guess.”

Charlie’s silver lids lower and she bites her lip. “What do you mean?”

Vaggie sweeps the cup of her palm down her arm. “I…” she wants to tell her. She should tell her. Fuck fuck FUCK why is this so hard?! Charlie’s all about redemption!

Yeah. Redemption of sinners. Not you.

The confession dries up on Vaggie’s tongue. “I--I ruined the game.”

Charlie snorts, “You didn’t ruin anything,” she lets out a small giggle, “When I was leaving, I heard Alastor played Reverse Slaughterhouse. It kills everyone’s meeples based on how many sheep they had in their farms. So…”

Vaggie groans. “Everyone but him had sheep. Because he gave his all away.”

“Eeeeyeah.”

Vaggie has several words she could say, but she just bursts out laughing.

Charlie’s eyebrows fly up. “What’s so funny?”

Vaggie cackles, “Alastor didn’t cheat to win. He didn’t need to.”

Charlie smiles at her and drapes herself across her girlfriend. “You’re adorable, you know?”

Vaggie snorts. “You’re the only one allowed to say that. Ever.”

Charlie nuzzles her and breathes cheerily, “I know.”

#yall this was so much fun #i kept asking myself what angels would be allergic to??#and i was like fuck it #gotta be lying or cheating #and BOY DO I LOVE BOARD GAME SLICE OF LIFE SHIT #So had to go with that idea #i just love how i got to bring out everyone's personality here wuhhh it was nice #snz #snzfic #snz fic #zen fanfic #haz/bin #va/ggie #allergies

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bunny-is-cute · 2 months

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Definitely gotta shout @rius-cave once more for drawing Calliope for me! 😍

This is just another headcanon voice video for Calliope. The more I listen to Sarah Cothran, the more I see Calliope come to life, especially when the vocoder is used!

But for real!

#calliope #calliope Morningstar #hazbin hotel #fanfiction #fanfic #hazbits #hazbin oc #hazbin original character #sarah cothran #headcanon voice #VA Sarah Cothran

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java-lava · 1 year

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I seriously feel bad for Tighnari mains. People seriously need to separate the character from his English VA. I understand what his Eng VA did, that is deplorable and disgusting, and he deserves to go to jail. I do not in any way shape or form support the VA. However, any hate towards the character Tighnari, or more specifically, fans of the character because of the VA is not acceptable. I’ve seen some people attacking Tighnari fans in comment sections simply because they said that they loved Tighnari.

I’ve seen other people put this on their social media as a reminder so I’d like to do the same;

The character is NOT the VA. If someone draws fan art of the CHARACTER, or writes/reads a fic of the CHARACTER, or comments something they like about the CHARACTER, they are not talking about the VA. They are talking about a fictional 3D character from a video game, who has other voice actors in different languages. The problem is purely the English VA. Not the character Tighnari, nor his other VA’s.

Thank you.💗

#tighnari #Tighnari VA #Voice actor #English VA #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #fanfic #genshin x reader #genshin #genshin voicelines #genshin VA #genshin impact tighnari #genshin sumeru #please read #disclaimer #please repost #people need to know

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gifti3 · 1 month

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every time they have a nightmare pass, i go through the stages of grief.

#just saw a secret room video for ppyong...#and heard his voice lines #OHHHHH i was tempted for a split second yall (just like with gabe)#the VA they picked is too good #hes CUTE GUYS HES CUTE #thanking everyone in the fandom for posting these things #at least it wont be a mystery you know #whb #whb ppyong #idk if they have a H scene attached to the unit but god #i just wanna know how that would go....#might have to look around for fanfic haha

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mahiiimahiiii · 5 months

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🥢family dinner

The Normandy crew goes on a mini street food and pub crawl. You get to know about characters favorite meals and backgrounds (or at least my version of them)

🌌 fleet and fumbled

This is based off of tali's romance and friendship scene where you watch fleet and flotilla. As per usual I'm using femshep. Queer undertones, but general light hearted fluff as Tali gets sick on accident.

🛴 kick in the shins

Garrus's dance scene where he busts a move. Ending up with dinner and him being a service top as an apology to his broody girlfriend. Slightly angst due to sheps image issues seen in the scene.

This will be a general series I'm making for my silversun strip collection! Plus, it will have accompanying art! (If I'm not lazy ofc)

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garglyswoof · 1 year

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A small Klaroline drabble bc i miss writing, no promises I'll ever do more than this, but wrote this in an hour based on this amazing prompt.

Some friends joined for the sprint and I'm looking forward to seeing what comes out of their brains! If you see this, feel free to write on this prompt too and tag me, whatever ship!

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Long as I Can See the Light

The night is dark and full of horrors, and she is very much one of them. Dried blood cracks on fingers clutched tight on the wheel for the 24th straight hour of hurtling towards a ten year inevitability. She runs a tongue along her teeth, the taste of copper still strong despite the hour. She is shaking, shaken, what she calls vampire guilt lighting her synapses, images flashing across her field of vision. Elena lying still, Stefan’s face anguished above her, the stabbing motion through a chest wall, the feel of a heart in her hands. It still beats, for a moment, after it’s removed, did you know? An unbidden reminder of life clinging in spite of it all.

Caroline’s never been sure she’ll ever get over those moments, and now she’s not sure if magic will let her. She feels the panic rise, a physical sensation that has her clutching the wheel harder, blowing air out through her nose, calm breaths one two in out calm calm calm.

Panic won’t help this situation, not in the least, and the only thing that will is close enough that now the panic shifts focus to the coming reunion.

What’s he been doing all this time? Would he even remember her? She’s pretty sure the answer is yes. After all, she's had quite a bit to worry about on her plate yet somehow she still found time to remember the rasp of his stubble on her thighs. Not now, Caroline.

God.

The smell of the city hits her like a freight train, sweet decay, earth and muck and something ageless and unnamed beneath the typical scents of civilization. She glances down at her phone in the passenger seat, a chipper Australian voice telling her to turn off on the next exit for Esplanade and tries to ignore the smudges beneath her eyes, stark in the rearview mirror. There’s just no time to look her best. She isn’t even sure what time she has, whether things had already been set in motion the moment her hand sliced through that man’s rib cage.

She isn’t sure of anything except that Klaus is the only one who will know what to do.

-----------------------------------

Klaus steps back from his work, eyeing the canvas with a thousand years of experience. Something about the light source is off, and he rocks forward, using a palette knife to daub shadows amidst the light. It's fixed now, masterful even if he says so himself, but somehow not enough.

Nothing really is these days. He knows and recognizes the ennui of an eternal existence, but that certainly doesn't make it easier to bear. Maybe someone needed killing. Maybe he needs to see the Northern Lights again. Maybe he needs to torture Rebecca. Something, anything to break up the monotony which spreads years out like taffy, stretching beyond human lifetimes, beyond anything but his own kind's lifetimes.

And there is the rub - immortality is, in the end, unbelievably boring. What new things to see and delight in when you’ve experienced it all? It becomes a matter of degrees, a matter of who you share those experiences with. His thoughts flash to a place he’d pretended long buried. He lets go of the pretense in times like these, testing the weight of promise like a tongue against a loose tooth - funny the things that stick with you through the millenia - and thinks of breaking it.

He won’t. He knows this, but the act of testing the bonds makes him feel like he’s in control of this feeling; this strange, heart-flipping, enraging and exhilarating feeling. He thinks of checking in on Mystic Falls but the last time he did he had severed the head of the reporting hybrid with the force of his thrown mobile, and he didn’t need to see what surprises Kol would program into his replacement phone this time.

He inhales in an action long useless and looks at the canvas, the play of shadows and light, and reaches a hand out to play god. Voices rise, a sussuration that reaches through the plaster, and he sets down his palette with annoyance, deciding that if art isn’t the answer, perhaps a spot of death would be.

He descends the staircase, hand trailing down the antique balustrade, fingers picking up trails of dust he’ll need to eat the housekeeper for, and approaches the voices. Two men - some of his guards, Thierry and Alan perhaps, and a higher pitched voice interrupting, tone demanding with a note of desperation behind it that his mind latches on to before the rest of his thoughts catch up and he realizes that Caroline Forbes is in his foyer, her form emerging as he rounds the landing, her legs bare, covered in blood and her face sallow and oh, the dichotomy of vampire, he hates it, he hates himself, he hates her, he thinks she is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Caroline?” His voice betrays nothing to her, and he watches her stifle a flash of annoyance that almost makes him smile.

“Hi, Klaus. Can you get your lackeys to back down? No offense, lackeys,” she says, offering one of the vampires clutching her arm a bright smile. “I just know how he is.”

They drop her arms at a word and step away, leaving the two of them standing alone in the foyer. The sound of locusts whirring outside is almost overwhelming as she lifts her eyes to his, searching.

He’s not sure if she finds what she’s looking for, but she speaks anyway, her eyes bright and trembling.

“I killed a hunter last night, and I didn’t know where else to go.”

#klaroline #klaroline fanfic #klaroline fanfiction #0 promises i will continue i just wanted to write something #hope someone digs it #title sponsored by rival sons #also can confirm if you drive to new orleans straight from richmond va via FL it takes a full day. ask me how i know

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vafiction · 2 years

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Be sure to check out ALL SIX books from Dimitri’s Point if View here

#vampire academy #rose hathaway #dimitri belikov #romitri #va fanfic #gigi256 #va #Vampire Academy Dimitri’s Point of View #Dimitri’s Point of View

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moonsdancer · 1 year

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fic: no promises in the dead of night | rose x dimitri

a Vampire Academy x Star Wars-ish fusion au | e | 11k so far | here

#romitri #vampire academy #a thing that's happening #rose hathaway #dimitri belikov #my fic #va fanfic

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ferindencadash · 1 month

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And now for a little shameless self-promotion!!

@spectre-requisitions-exchange 2024 has officially ended and the authors have been revealed! Which means I can talk about all the stuff I wrote! (I may have gone a little overboard...)

In addition to my first assignment, I picked up a pinch hit. And then I was feeling so inspired I wrote another two treats! I have been on a writing bender and it feels good! Not gonna lie, I'm pretty proud of myself. 😌

So my fics this year were:

T-rated (my first non-explicit fic!! 😅) FemShep/Ashley pairing. For @biotickaidan

Set in ME3, Ash has a crisis of fate after her near-death experience and talks things through with Shepard. A romance is rekindled.

People have been SO NICE about this fic?? I have never had so many comments before, it's honestly blowing my mind. Y'all are so sweet. 🥹

E-rated Jack/Kasumi (t4t!!) for @krahka

Be gay, do crime! Set pre-ME2, Jack and Kasumi accidentally end up committing the same crime. Hijinks ensue™️ and things get a little sexy.

This was ridiculously fun to write and very challenging. I watched a ton of heist movies to prepare for this one! 😂

E-rated MShep/James Vega for @ginbiscuit

Set between ME2 and 3, while James is guarding Shep in lock up. Shep is bored and entertains himself by being an incorrigible flirt. James tries to behave. You can guess how well that goes.

I think this is actually my favourite fic I have ever written?? I really think it's quite good. I fell in love with those two idiots while they fell in love with each other. Ethan Shepard may just have some future adventures, cause goddamnit HE IS CUTE. And I'm proud of my baseball metaphor (gods I hope someone notices 😭).

Please read this one? For me? 🥺

And finally! M-rated Tali & Jack for @beltsquid

Set during ME2. Tali is having a bad day. Jack is having a bad day and is making it everyone else's problem. Together they clean out the Normandy's bar and an unexpected friendship(?) develops.

I literally just finished this one a few hours ago. 😅My first gen fic! The prompt was fantastic and super inspiring. These two are so great together and I had so much fun exploring their relationship.

There were even more fantastic prompts I really wanted to write, but time is short! So I'll save them for next year. ;)

Now that I am finally done writing, I am going to delve into the rest of the fics available in the collection! There are SO MANY I'm excited to check out! So definitely look out for a recommendation list in the next few days. Or just go poke around the collection yourself!!

#specrecs2024 #fanfic exchange #mass effect #rarepair #commander shepard #ashley williams #kasumi goto #jack subject zero #james vega #tali zora vas normandy #femshep/ashley #kasumi/jack #mshep/james vega #shega

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vasiktomis · 4 months

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Overqualified (Choso x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: A series of vignettes over the course of which you decide you're actually pretty cool with the idea of giving Choso head.

Rating: Explicit (Minors do NOT interact). Word Count: ~7300. Tags/Warnings: Female Pronouns and Anatomy for Reader, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Time Blow Jobs, Social Anxiety, Vomiting (not part of the sex stuff I swear but icks are icks), Angst, Misunderstandings, Oral Sex, Mentions of Non-Con but No Descriptions. Canon-variant, nobody’s dead, everyone’s fine etc etc. Read it on Ao3 Here!

“You’re kidding, right?”

You’re all too familiar with how curses wear their expressions when they become powerful enough to learn to make them.

In your line of work — at the level you’ve risen to — you’re often stuck with the ones that take human form. The ones that learn to mimic sounds and words and mannerisms. You’ve watched time and time again, the intelligence that forms in First and Special-grades that allows them to appear so convincingly human in such a short period of time. You learned the hard way early in your career, what it’s like to fall for the act and take pity on a curse. You’ve lost kind people to the trap of sentiment.

You became wise to it; despite all that intelligence that came with such a degree of power, curses bore an unquenchable drive to harm humans.

You learned to see through the pleading. The crying. High-level curses learning to comprehend terror changes nothing. When you despatch them, it changes nothing. No matter how they beg for mercy, the instinct to kill you never ceases.

It’s in their eyes, you learn.

It’s in his eyes, when the remaining students and teachers at Shibuya bring him home to Jujutsu High. A Death Painting Womb. A half-curse. You don’t need to hear the human half of it. Your mind’s made up the moment they put you in the same room as him, ordered in spite of all your protests not to kill him where he stands. He won’t harm the Itadori kid, you’re assured. The kid is safe with him.

Choso.

You can’t even believe he’s got a name.

He sticks to the boy’s side, insisting their blood-relation while he glances about his environment with baby-fresh eyes. He’s a curse in the way he takes in information. Everything is new. Every emotion he feels borders on fresh.

Brow knitted. Jaw set. The dozens of little muscles around his mouth tighten. His eyes don’t blink for their minutes of fixation. Not until his attention is called away and Itadori leaves the room, beckoning him to follow.

It’s in his eyes. You won’t be fooled.

He watches you like he wants to kill you.

_________________________________

Your orders keep you from destroying Choso. They force you to co-exist with your guard consistently up, and as the weeks draw on, your exhaustion builds. You manage to steer clear of him for a good month before Tsukumo weighs in with a surprisingly high opinion of him. Drinking buddies? Fuck off. That’s your job. You’re not going to be muscled out of your place at her side.

You’re confident in her opinion, of course. But it doesn’t change yours. Weakened resolve be damned — there’s no way you’re letting yourself be in the same room as him again.

…

Still, you suppose it couldn’t hurt humouring her suggestions for you to tolerate him. It’s not like you need to do much more than that. If somehow you turn out to be wrong and she starts buying free rounds for a curse instead of you, you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself.

It’s a rainy day lunchtime when you force yourself to approach the man, holding your lunch tray over your torso in the event he makes a jab for your internal organs as you join the line.

He glances at you once. Twice. Aborting a too-late attempt to reach for a rice bowl when you snatch one from the warmer and take a step forward to force him along.

Fear. Good. He’s learned fear.

Your tongue readies in your mouth. Your throat runs dry.

“Shitty weather.” You manage.

His head whips around. Eyes bug out of his skull as he turns to regard you. There’s that clench in his jaw again.

Choso does not respond. His posture changes, dipping down. Momentarily, you ready yourself for an attack, flinching to keep yourself from countering when he makes a sudden lurch for as many items he can reach. Shoving them onto his tray. Half a cup of steaming miso soup spills into his sleeve as he reels back and around you, storming out of the line without a word.

You eat your lunch at the window. Watching as he eats his on a step in the pouring rain, glaring into the middle-distance.

He must know you’re onto him.

_________________________________

The weeks drag on. Somehow, it feels simultaneously like your every move on campus grounds is watched by the half-curse while your every attempt to observe him close up is met with a hurried getaway.

By social means, Choso develops quickly. He still spends most of his time by Itadori’s side, but he begins to branch out. Much to your chagrin, the staff warm to him, too.

It isn’t long until they have the kid hooked up to you, much like Nanami’s old role before his run-in with the disaster curses knocked enough sense into him to go part-time. It pissed you off the first you hear about it; it had to be Choso’s doing. He must have known that you’d had it out for him and he was going to try his luck separating you from your peers after gaining Itadori’s trust.

You knew it. He was plotting to kill you.

Then, you find out that it was Itadori who’d requested you as a mentor, and the wind gets knocked out of your sails pretty fast.

It starts with a “Teacher!” Bellowed across the walkway. You’re hunched over, sipping from a faulty water fountain that the students seem to find great entertainment shoving twigs into to mess with the pressure. You know the kid’s voice well enough that embarrassment creeps up the back of your neck.

You straighten out, wiping your mouth on your sleeve, angling to look a little less lame after being caught at the mercy of a shitty fountain. “Itadori.” You greet the approaching boy. The only acknowledgement you offer his company is in your periphery. Were it not so rude, you’d close one eye so that you only have to look at the kid while you regard them. “Looks like you’re my new protege.”

There’s a pause.

Itadori looks between you and Choso, waiting for the two of you to exchange your own greetings.

It doesn’t happen.

More and more, Choso watches you with those unblinking eyes. Your focus is drawn. Minutely, you realise, he’s trembling.

“You — you know! It occurred to me that you haven’t properly met my half-brother.” Itadori ventures to break the ice. “Figured it would be nice for you two to know one another if we’re going to be learning from you.”

We’re.

You’re not a two-for-one deal. You never agreed to help train a curse.

“You don’t say.” You mutter, finally meeting Choso’s eye. Alright, then. Just because you like the kid, you’ll humour him. “Hey.”

There’s no answer. Not right away. Not until there’s an elbow nudging at Choso’s ribs. His adam’s apple bobs in a visible gulp.

“H-“

That’s all he manages before a mouthful of bile sprays out of his mouth. He has good reaction time, you’ll give him that. But it doesn’t help his cause. It just spills between his fingers as he tries to cover his face. You’d liken it to placing one’s thumb over a garden hose.

Itadori, meanwhile, springs into a panicked attempt to get between the two of you, shielding Choso from view with his body. “Haha! Okay! Great, so we’ll be seeing you!” He exclaims, alternating between leading his doubled-over brother back the way they came and waving at you.

Once again, you watch. Once again, perplexed.

“That was good, but it could have gone better. Next time, don’t throw up, okay?”

Anxiety vomiting.

Huh.

You’ll admit — this is a first.

_________________________________

Okay, maybe he’s not so bad.

Sure, he can hardly formulate a sentence around you, but at least the lack of interjection makes it easier to focus on Itadori’s development. Is Choso’s presence a constant irritation? Absolutely, but not unlike his little brother, you grow accustomed to his presence. That’s not to say that you’d ever grow to care for him to the same extent you do Itadori. In fact, the only reason you keep your trap shut about having him along for the ride is for the kid’s sake.

One thing that does start to irk you, however — even moreso than being stuck with a half-fucking-curse in your downtime, is how quickly Choso develops an opinion on your teaching style.

Rather, how critical he becomes of it.

First, there’s a huff. A sharp exhale out his nose marking disdain when you call Itadori back to rest. It builds from there. Pointed looks. Scoffs. A subtle rolling of his eyes when you snap at the kid to watch his blind spots over the passing weeks.

You’re sure you might end up killing him unprompted at this rate.

“You ought to praise him more.” Is the first full sentence he manages to get through when you’re alone with him. Itadori has left the two of you alone in a booth at CoCo Curry to excuse himself to the bathroom, and Choso jumps at the opportunity to level his criticism at you.

It’s a miracle he’s even speaking to you at all, you think at first.

Then, once you’ve registered what he’s said, you think it’s a miracle you managed to refrain from bringing your spoon down through his hand.

“Excuse me?” You seethe. “For your information, he does this every time. He always picks extra hot. He always empties the shaker when it gets brought out. He’s always shocked when he has to run off and shit himself before he’s halfway done.”

“I know that. His courage is unmatched.” Choso bites back, twisting in his seat to face you. “That’s not what I’m talking about. You’re too harsh on him in training.”

Where is all this bravery coming from all of a sudden? Is this really how protective he gets around the kid?

How misplaced. How sentimental. If you weren’t a sorcerer you might be moved by what comes off as brotherly affection.

You won’t fall for it.

A snarl curls at your lip. “Where do you get off, talking to me? You wanna give me life advice next? Wanna apply for my job? How many months have you been living outside a test tube, huh?”

“I’m only talking to you because I’m looking out for him.” He glares.

“Yeah, you and me both.” You dismiss him. “Look. I’ve got big shoes to fill. Itadori’s last mentor was hard on him. He’s closer to that guy than I could ever hope to be, but at least I know he listens to me when I boss him around. I’d rather the kid be covering his bases and coming home to me alive, than letting too much praise to go his head and getting him killed."

Choso doesn’t reply for a moment. His gaze remains hard, bottom jaw jutting out like a petulant kid. After a moment, he breaks away, redirecting his glare down at his emptied bowl.

“He respects you a lot. He looks up to you.” The man mumbles, crossing his arms and sinking down in the booth. “Please praise him.”

The two of you sit in stubborn silence for the better part of half an hour, until your student returns from the bathroom with an exhilarated huff. You can practically see the stink lines radiating off him.

“Whew!” The kid exclaims, throwing himself down beside Choso. “Aw man, my food’s probably cold.”

Yeah, whose fault is that.

“Hey. Itadori.” You grumble, earning the kid’s attention.

“Hm?” He perks up, mouth full.

“You did well today.”

You’ve turned your attention to the menu, scouring a drinks menu you’re far too full to even consider ordering.

In your periphery, Choso sits up a little.

_________________________________

You don’t make a secret of where you live. In the Jujutsu world, generally speaking (with Tsukumo being an enigmatic exception), the more secretive one tries to be about their lifestyle, the more curious it makes everyone else. You watched Nanami learn this the hard way after his return to the job and the sheer effort he put in for a while there to ensure no one knew how to contact him outside of work hours.

Of course, everyone wound up with his landline number and personal address whether any of you visit him of not.

It helps, having everyone generally know where they stand with you, anyway. ‘Emergencies only’ tends to be your rule. Approachable on campus and on the street, but home time is home time. Only show up if you’re in need of help. Or if you’re bringing free stuff.

So imagine your surprise when you open your front door and find Choso of all people, not at eye-level, but on his knees at your feet, forehead stamped to the doormat.

“What the fu-“

“Forgive me.” The man’s voice wobbles. He doesn’t move from the bow. You take the opportunity to look right. Left. Right again. Scanning for Itadori to come bounding over to escort him away from you once more.

Today, Choso is alone, but the thought of being attacked by him has dimmed to embers by now. You’ll chide yourself for it later, you think.

Right now, you’re more concerned with not drawing too much attention from the neighbours.

“Woah. Hey.” You crouch down. Choso flinches at your fingertips brushing his shoulder blade, but he doesn’t withdraw. Once again, he just starts trembling.

Man, he really is the sensitive sort.

He better not throw up again. Not while you’re close enough to be in the firing line.

“Forgive me.” Choso repeats. “I’ve been rude to you. I’ll try harder from now on. Let me redeem myself.”

“Okay! Okay, you’re forgiven, you’re redeemed. Now would you get up? I wipe my feet on that mat.” You hiss, tugging at his sleeve. This time, he gets the hint, getting to his feet and regarding you with an expression resembling hopeful and a patch of grit on his forehead.

In spite of all the confusion, you’ll admit, he’s cute. In a — born sexy yesterday kind of way.

In spite of yourself, you tug at his sleeve, taking the opportunity to rub the crap off his head. “Come inside before people get the wrong idea. You want a drink?”

“No, I’d throw up again.”

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate your candor…—“ You trail, gesturing for him to take a seat on your couch. He does as instructed, scanning your apartment from left to right, committing it to memory. “Do I freak you out that much?”

Choso doesn’t mince his words. He isn’t learned enough quite yet to beat around the bush. Maybe he might not be the type, regardless. “Yes.” He nods, avoiding your gaze in favour of staring at your reflection on the TV screen. “You have every right to feel uncomfortable around me, but I want your permission to be honest.”

Frowning, you incline your head in acknowledgement.

It’s almost like it’s the answer he didn’t want. All of a sudden, he’s not even capable of looking at your reflection. He seats himself on your couch and rubs his thumb into his palm. Holding his own hand. “I have awful feelings toward you.”

Something pricks at the base of your skull. Your eyebrows shoot up. Is this finally it? Is this your moment of vindication? Is he finally going to admit he wants to kill you?

“How awful are we talking?” You prod.

”Terrible.”

Your gaze flits around the living room for something to imbue, just in the event that he does pounce. “Uhhh, go on. I’m listening.”

“Looking at you makes me queasy.”

You abort an attempt to reach for your shark-grabber, reconsidering its promotion from TV remote reaching. “Harsh.”

“Were it not for the possibility of disappointing Yuji, I don’t know how else I’d be capable of controlling it. If I hurt you, he’d never speak to me again.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re trying to put a lid on it—“

“You’ve been putting in a lot of effort to tolerate me just so you can help make sure Yuji is okay, and I haven’t given you the same kindness. You’re good to him. It intimidates me.”

Okay, this is taking a weird turn-

“—I just can’t stop thinking about you.”

…

Heat creeps up your neck and into your ears.

“Oh.” You breathe, chest tightening as the realisation dawns on you.

Ohh, you get it now. Despite the deviation, Choso looks guilty enough that he may as well have admitted to wanting to kill you after all.

You swallow your pride, sitting down beside him on the couch. “You have a crush on me.”

His brow furrows. There’s that stare again. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure how to handle it. I don’t know what I should do.”

This whole time, it wasn’t aggression he’s been dealing with.

It was attraction.

“It’s okay.” You assure him for once, orbiting a fine line between emotional whiplash, awkwardness, and flattered sort of accomplishment. “You don’t need to do anything. People get crushes, it’s normal.”

People. It’s a person thing. There’s nothing cursed to it. Guilt pools in your gut. Just how nasty have you been toward the guy? Of course you’ve been freaking him out; he’s been catching up with the world this whole time and all you’ve done is make things harder on him.

And he still holds you in high enough regard to seek guidance from you, despite how embarrassing this must be?

“So what do I do?”

It’s not like there’s much of a choice. It’s not like you’ve really analysed your own feelings toward this man beyond bare tolerance at best — but you owe it to him to be sensible. You owe it to him to be a little more merciful than you would, even to a full-blooded human. Were he another sorcerer, you’d probably tell him to fuck off. Stop wasting your time. But he’s trusting you with a first that’s been torturing him.

He’s handsome, sure — but you don’t even know if you’re capable of trusting him not to end your life despite all he’s said. A single conversation can’t undo everything you’ve learned to feel.

“Well, if you wanna spare us both the discomfort, you could try asking another dude about how to handle it.” You suggest, casually as you can muster. “Not your teenage brother. Find an adult.”

Choso nods. You sense his tongue shifting behind his teeth. Considering asking why not you? But he seems to realise the implications by sheer instinct. The kind of conversation he needs to have can’t be with you. Not without altering your relationship before it can even find its feet.

“Yeah.” He agrees, not quite able to hold eye contact with you for more than a few seconds at a time. “I’ll do my best.”

You’re getting sick of this. You’ve never heard such sincerity in your life.

Oh, fine.

You offer him a smile. Another first.

You’d fuck him.

_________________________________

You could never get sick of this.

“Saved you a spot.” Choso’s platforms lift off the seat beside him before you have a chance to notice the half-dozen empty alternatives. You do, however, become painfully aware that you’d been on your way to sit beside him anyway. There are plenty of alternatives. Years-long professional and personal relationships scattered all around the room, but your recent months with this one in particular have made him a begrudging favourite.

“Yeah, yeah.” You grumble, slumping down with a huff.

He’s been ten times easier to handle since your little deep-and-meaningful. As much as you hate to admit it, he’s actually been kind of a cool guy to hang around.

As much as you hate to admit it, you can’t help but indulge in the idea that it’s probably all the jerking off he’s likely been doing. Nevertheless, as far as your increasing curiosity imagines, he hasn’t broached the topic with you since.

“Bring my Kagome?” Choso asks, prompting you to hand him your bag to search through.

“Didn’t miss anything, did I?” You ask.

“Competition’s started, but no one’s made contact yet.” Utahime answers from up front, not bothering to break away from the screens showcasing the exchange event’s progress.

Beside her, Gojo sinks further into his seat. His head lolls against the arm rest. “It’s so boring in here with you lot. Hey, Utahime, why don’t you embarrass yourself for everyone’s entertainment?“

The ensuing squabbling is quickly dulled to you as Choso hands your bag back, stabbing a straw into the juicebox he’s withdrawn. Both of you watch the screens, looking for your protege in particular.

“Yuji’s trying to group up with the other Tokyo kids.” Choso mentions, fingers brushing yours without flinching when you hand the box back after he offers.

“He knows he doesn’t have to do that, right?”

”Depends on how bored he gets on his own.”

Your comment causes Gojo’s head to dip back, angling his attention at you. His mouth opens, but no sound escapes him.

His attention shifts to the side of you.

“Hey, why does he get a juice?”

“Pipe down and watch the competition!” Utahime barks at him. Curiosity draws her attention up and back to you, however, gaze dropping to the drink in Choso’s hand. “Hey — is that berry salad?”

“Berry salad!” Gojo whines. “C’mon, share.”

You watch in your periphery as Choso leans forward, and the two up front stretch out an arm each. Gojo’s spindly limbs have poor Utahime beat, but Choso carries the prize just barely out of the man’s reach.

He holds it out to you instead.

You don't even mind that half the sip is backwash. It's nice being the favourite of your favourite.

One of these days you really ought to blow him.

_________________________________

The doorbell rings.

Habit has conditioned you to expect Choso at your door. When you open it, however, you’re made aware of two surprises: a plummeting excitement that had no right building in the first place that the person bowing at your front step isn’t the man in question, and secondly, that it’s his brother, your protege that stands in his place.

“Oh, for the love of-“

“Teacher!” Itadori exclaims, bent from the hip at a perfect right-angle. “Please date my brother!”

…

What the hell is wrong with this family?

Your throat closes on itself as you claw for a response that doesn’t involve punching this poor child in the back of his head. “Wha—! Who told you I — get off my property!” You bark, heat flushing your ears.

“I thought you rented.” Itadori straightens, confusion tugging an eyebrow up.

“That’s beside the point.”

Then he’s dropping right back down again. “Please date Choso!”

Choso. What’s he been telling the kid? Did he go back on his word and seek relationship advice from a teenager? Is he trying to kill you after all?

“What gives?!” You snarl down at him. “I’m your mentor! Would you pull this kinda shit with Nanami?”

“To be fair, Nanami is the one person I wouldn’t pull this with.” Itadori protests, holding his hands up in defense. “Date my brother!”

“Agh!” With that, you slam the door on the kid. “Learn some damn respect! Jeez, I’m starting to get where Utahime’s coming from.”

There’s a grumble behind the wood. A defeat well-picked.

“Fine. See you tomorrow.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Yeah, yeah. Think about what you want for lunch.”

_________________________________

The moment you wrap the training day and send the kid on his way, you snatch at Choso’s sleeve before he can shuffle off after his brother. “What the hell did you tell him!”

The man flinches at your touch. He frowns hard. “I didn’t tell him anything.” He grunts back, shrugging uncomfortably away from you. “You told me not to. Why are you mad?”

“Don’t jump to calling women angry. It’s anti-feminist.”

It doesn’t immediately occur to you that with just yourself and Tsukumo being the only adult women Choso knows, he probably hasn’t had much interaction with the women’s rights movement. Nevertheless, he runs with it.

“Okay. You’re not mad.”

“I am mad! Why’s your little brother knocking on my door telling me to go out with you, huh?”

“What?!” Choso whips around, regarding you with terror. “Yuji?! I only talked to Ino-“

Your fist collides with your palm. “Ino!” You seethe, content to settle on such a target, at least until Choso taps his index fingers together. Almost…like he’s counting.

“— and he gave me some advice, but he couldn’t help me with one question I had. So I asked Ijichi, but he didn’t have an answer for me, either. So then I asked Tsukumo, and she couldn’t —“

Great, just great, you think, zoning out while the man continues to list off the names of almost every adult you interact with on a regular basis — the entire faculty staff and beyond know. Serves you right for trusting any one of those jackasses to keep a secret from a child.

You relent, if not at his sincerity, then at least just to escape the roll-call. “Okay. It’s fine. It’s all right. We’ll figure it out.” You sigh. “In any case, did you get an answer for your question?”

Choso pauses. Averts his gaze. “No. Well, Nanami gave me an answer he said works, but it’s not something I want to do.”

“…Can I help?” You offer.

“You said-“

“I know, but you’ve exhausted your other options.”

The look on his face is nothing short of defeated. You are not the person he wanted to have to ask.

“Can I take a raincheck?” Choso asks.

You touch a hand to his arm, an assurance of support. After how many months of progress, he shifts away from contact for a second time today.

Months ago, you would have felt relieved by such a rejection; now, it pools hollow and worrisome in your gut.

Something’s changed.

“Yeah. It’s fine.” You lie.

_________________________________

Weeks pass. It feels like an eternity.

You’re beginning to adjust to walking just yourself home again.

Choso seems to make himself scarce in your life what ever way he can, and where he can’t, he puts as much distance between himself and you as possible. He doesn’t look at you anymore. He doesn’t speak to you. You’re not the sort to reach out; you’re plenty used to people disappearing from your life without a trace — but this feels different.

There’s no one to remind to take their big stupid giant shoes off at the step when you enter your flat.

It’s quiet. Lonesome, a needier person might call it.

Had you not convinced yourself this was something you’d wanted from the start, you’d confront him about it. Ask him why he’s avoiding you — but what would that fix?

What would you hope to get out of closure?

You should be relieved that he’s lost interest in you. You should be over the moon that he ejects from conversations entirely upon your arrival. That he stands up and moves to the opposite side of the room should you put yourself in an empty seat beside him.

Your life is no longer haunted by his gawking presence. Itadori shows up alone to his training sessions, and were you not hell-bent on putting on a show of relief at Choso’s absence to the rest of the world, you’d stoop to asking the kid what the hell was going on.

As little as you can convince yourself any longer, you’ve got to convince the rest of the world.

You don’t give a shit.

Pulling the fridge door open, you pull a juice box out of your bag and place it back on the shelf you’d plucked it from this morning.

Yeah. You’re fine. You’re great, actually.

You don’t even fucking like berry salad.

_________________________________

“How do I stop?”

You stare at the man in your doorway, halfway caught between dumbfounded and furious.

He stares back, refusing to elaborate for you.

“Are you kidding me? You haven’t spoken to me in months-“

“You promised me I could take a raincheck.” Choso says. “I’ve tried everything. Tell me how to make it stop.”

You should turn him away. You should say something awful and hurt him. Make him think twice before daring to get under someone’s skin the way he did yours.

A muscle in Choso’s jaw tenses. That would’ve been all it took, and you hate yourself for that much — but then he hits you with a staggered, weak little: “Please.”

“Make what—…ugh.” You relent, stepping aside to let him pass. “Shoes.”

He’s already stepping out of them, padding through your hallway on his way to the kitchen out of sheer habit.

“Don’t even think about taking a Kagome.”

There’s a grunt. The fridge door closes.

Choso’s stepping back into the living room when you’ve caught up with him. “I’m…really sorry.” He fiddles with his hands, shrinking into himself under the heat of your scrutiny. “I’ve—…missed talking to you.”

“Yeah, well I haven’t.” You snap. His gaze hits the floor, and guilt threatens to well in your throat. “I’m angry you ghosted me, okay?”

“I was trying to take Nanami’s advice.” He mumbles.

”Nanami.”

“But it hasn’t worked.“ The man continues, ignoring your targeted rage. “I asked him how I can stop feeling how I feel about you, and he told me to stay away, but I can’t, and I don’t know how to stop, and I know how sad it’s making you, but I can’t—“

You snap out of your haze at the wobble in the man’s voice, finding him clutching at his own sleeves, a futile endeavour at self-soothing. For just a moment, his gaze locks to yours.

Fuck, you’ve missed him looking at you. How sad is that.

“Why do you want to stop?” You ask, and all of a sudden he can’t look you in the eye again. “Did I do something to make you upset?”

“Because you don’t want it.” He explains, frustration mounting. “Everything I’ve read, everything I’ve watched, it’s not one-sided. In real life, with you — it’s only me. It makes-…it makes me feel terrible.” A pit forms in your stomach as he goes on. “Do you know how me and my siblings exist? Through my mother’s suffering.”

...

Oh, fuck.

You’ve been so stupid.

How could you have not thought this through? Choso’s a sensitive guy even without the nature of his existence coming into play, and your most rational thought when he came to you with this problem was to save your own embarrassment and throw him at porn?

The only prior understanding he’s had of sexuality is forced procreation.

All this time you’ve been torturing him, throwing him under the bus. Putting the entire responsibility for his interest in you onto him, without him even understanding any of it. You’ve been leading him along under the impression that you’re not interested, that you detest him, and while that might have been true at the start—

“I don’t want to feel the way my father might have felt about my mother.” Choso admits. “I don’t want to want someone who doesn’t want me back.”

“You’ve got it wrong.” You manage. “You’re not bad for wanting me. There’s nothing I don’t like about that.”

Your words fall on deaf ears. He’s already far too swept up in his own thoughts to hear you.

“Choso.” You speak firmly, and you’re not sure if it’s the tone you take or his own catastrophising, but you’ve never seen him look more afraid of you than he does right now. “It’s not the same, I promise you. That’s not how it works. I know you won’t hurt me.”

“But it does hurt you.” Choso insists, snatching at your shoulders like he's trying to snap you out of a stupor. “I see how much it bothers you. I don’t want to make you suffer.”

Your brow knits. Maybe if you weren’t such a pussy about all this you’d admit to him that the hurt of his absence has by far beaten any negative feelings brought about by having him around.

“You treat my brother so well.” He offers, solemnly. “You tolerate me for his sake. It makes me feel so selfish — I want Yuji to be happy and continue to learn from you — but if you choose not to train him anymore because of me, then I won’t be able to be near you anymore either. I can’t stay away from you, but I can’t bear to make you carry the burden of knowing how I feel about you. So please, tell me how I can stop.”

"I don't want you to stop." You blurt. This time, you're the one incapable of meeting his eye. Instead, you scowl at the wrap over his chest, doing your best not to get swept up in reuniting with the scent of him. "I'm sorry for making you go through this by yourself. I hate that I drove you away and made you feel like this. You can do what you want, but you need to know that what you're going through isn't bad. It's human."

Choso tentatively runs the fabric of your shirt between his fingers. Not quite touching you. Closing your proximity all the while. You feel his breath. You feel his warmth.

“It’s nothing like that,” You promise, “because I think the same of you.”

Then, you feel the fucker smirk down at you. "Yeah, yeah, I get the picture."

"Shut up. I'm trying."

His gaze flits between your eyes and your mouth, no doubt running through the natural course of events he’s been studying in whatever material the others have had him watch. His head dips, catching your attention, and then ever lower, nose almost brushing yours.

“You’re sure.” He breathes.

You answer by covering the distance, ghosting your lips against his. Choso’s body stiffens, leaning into you in what he must assume is how he should reciprocate. You quell the insecurity, sliding your fingers down his arm before you find your balance with a palm pressed to his chest. He’s too inexperienced to take the cue, but he’s smart enough to break away with a questioning look. The blood mark across his nose has altered its shape. Not quite as straight as it once was.

“You can touch me. I want you to.” You murmur, tugging the bands out of his hair one at a time. “I’ll like it.”

The blood mark stretches over Choso’s cheeks. A hollow breathe escapes him just as he pulls you against him in another kiss, long arms wrapping firmly around your waist. He’s clearly inexperienced, but he's a quick learner. He follows your lead, mimicking your motions. Large hands drift over your ribcage. Pawing at your waist. Then, the moment your tongue slips over Choso’s bottom lip, he’s holding your hips just shy of his own.

“You’re sure.”

His pupils are dilated beyond belief as he holds you at bay, lacking the willpower to keep from allowing you to push back into his grasp just a little, just enough to feel a burgeoning erection jutting against your stomach.

His hairties roll onto your wrist. Your fingers toy with his locks, gathering on his shoulders. “I think,” You smile up at him, “You should show me what you’ve been learning.”

Something in him snaps. His mouth is back on yours in a heartbeat, florid, hands yanking you in against his body. A ragged hum spills from his throat as you respond in kind, snatching at his cowl, breaking away from him just to untie the thing and pulling it off over his head.

Choso isn’t much of a talker. Not yet, at least. Not while so much of his concentration is on making up for lost time exploring you. For the moment, you have to find satisfaction in pulling wordless sounds from him, learning where he’s most sensitive. His ribcage. His throat. His hipbones. It’s not until your fingertips graze his cock through his pants that he musters a breathy little ”fuck—“

His weight braces against you naturally, chasing more, confidence growing. He spends a particularly long moment squeezing your ass before he hurriedly shifts his attention — just pointed enough to have you noting that he might already be figuring out his favourites.

When Choso’s fingers paw at your tits, though — a favourite of your own — you can’t help the little noise that escapes you.

He draws back. Pupils constricted. Blood mark tightening across his face. Sensing competition.

Not today, you affirm silently, walking the man backward until his legs hit the couch and he falls into a sit. You follow, sinking to your knees between his, palms resting on his thighs.

“Won’t you?” You ask sweetly, angling for a look akin to innocent, watching Choso gulp at the sight.

“Won’t I wh-what…” He stammers. So much for competition.

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his pants. You don’t take your eyes off him. “Show me.”

Choso takes a moment, considering your words in total silence. Then, with a shuddering breath, he’s fumbling with his underclothes, juban tugging up out of the way. Flashing his lower stomach as he busies himself with pulling his cock out of his pants. You find yourself vaguely scandalised at the sight. You’ve scarcely seen more of Choso than his arms. The flat of his stomach feels oddly intimate.

His cock is just as pale as his fingers. He slowly, steadily pulls his foreskin up, though his grip conceals him for the most part, much to your disappointment. When he draws back, you lean in insistently, ignoring a little shiver on his part at how close your face gets. Colour gathers on the delicate tip, much like the hue of his eyelids. Choso draws up again, and you find your mouth running dry at the glimmer of a tiny drop of pre-cum, at least before it gets swept away by his fingers.

“If you wanted to watch so bad, you should’ve asked.” He mutters, tone chastising — yet undermined by the flush blotting his neck, and again, you make a note. He’s going to be bratty once he gets the hang of this.

“Maybe if you’d been nice about it-“

“Are you gonna let me blow you, or what?” You interject.

Choso goes silent. Eyes wide. You’d think you’d gone too far if he hadn’t immediately relinquished his grip.

You waste no time replacing his hand with your own, balancing his cock between your fingers, tipping it toward you as you shimmy closer, nudging his knees further apart.

The flat of your tongue presses to the tip, and you grin at the way his whole body seems to flinch. A hum vibrates in his chest. Flagging permission to keep going. He can handle it. You don’t have to be content with just a taste.

Your mouth envelops his cock, and Choso grips hard at the cushion beneath him. He stops making noise altogether as your lips venture mid-way, holding his breath while you pause to run your tongue against the underside. Then, when you hollow your cheeks and pull back up, a ragged sound escapes his throat. Pre-cum spurts over your tastebuds. So much so that you’re worried he might already be done for. Waiting another moment brings nothing else, but he probably needs a moment regardless.

Sitting back on your heels, you check in, poising your wettened lips just shy of the head. Choso looks like he’s on the verge of tears. It isn’t helped by the rorschach blotting of the blood mark dripping down his cheeks like drenched mascara.

“You okay?” You check in. “You need to stop?”

“No!” He yips, sitting up, bordering outraged. It takes a moment for him to register the smile on your face as a taunt. That you’re not serious about backing out.

All the same, if you didn’t have him pinned to the couch right now, you’re sure he’d be bowing at your feet again.

“Keep going. I can take it.”

Your hand works him slowly from base to tip, squeezing out another clear, oozing droplet. You smear it back and forth over your lips, and Choso’s head dips back against the couch, scrunching his eyes shut. Poor thing. As fun as it is teasing him, you owe it to him to at least get him off.

“Just relax.” You murmur, licking your lips, brushing your tongue around the head of his cock and waiting for a minute nod on his part before continuing on. Sinking down, you take him deeper with each bob of your head, building into a steady, consistent rhythm so as not to catch him off-guard. You want to draw this out as long as possible for him. You want him at your door again, at your feet, begging you for more.

You want to be the only one he wants doing this to him.

There’s no helping a swallow on your part when he nudges the back of your throat one too many times, though, and Choso gasps like he’s dying. His posture curls, instinctively trying to find purchase on something that isn’t just the couch. His cock twitches in your mouth, and you go still.

He’s on the brink, but you’re convinced you can work just a bit more out of him with a little patience.

Choso’s hands come to hover over your head. You don’t have the ability right now to tell him you’d be fine with having his grip guide you, and without that go-ahead, he’s not taking his chances. He’s far too considerate to do that.

So he just sits there, letting himself suffer, not quite sure what to do with himself beyond entrusting that part to you.

Once his muscles have relaxed enough, signalling his body’s retreat from the orgasm that had been building, you deem it safe to resume. Starting slow and shallow once again, you earn yourself a frustrated groan.

That’s more like it. The nerves are settling. He wants to cum, now.

You can’t help but go back on your word, just a little. You can’t help but taunt him, pulling back to suck on just the head until his fingernails are digging into his palms. Choso’s hips judder, threatening to buck up into your mouth and taking a conscious effort to be stilled. His breaths push and pull through gritted teeth, and fine, it might be time to give the poor guy a break.

Choso all but cries out when you take him all the way in again, stifling an instinctual gag when another spurt of pre-cum hits your overworked throat. You don’t let up, for his sake. His breaths come short and sharp. His cock swells on your tongue, leaking pitifully in sync with an equally pitiful sound in his chest.

“I—“ He whimpers, voice wobbling, “I’m gonna—“

There’s no curse words he’s been exposed to enough to pick out, and when Choso peaks, he does so wordlessly in a mess of gasps and groans. The first pulse of cum jets across your tongue, and you draw back to hold your mouth open, working him through it with your hand. Ribbon after ribbon coats your face as Choso keens his way through the aftershocks, only filling your mouth when the force dwindles and his body slackens.

You’d mistake him for a corpse, were he not twitching every few seconds. His eyes are fixed on your face, glassy and unmoving, mouth agape as if he might burst into tears at any moment, unaided by the running of his blood mark down his cheeks.

Sitting back and admiring your handiwork, you swipe a thumb across a stripe of cum that starts to streak down your face, watching the man with a smile. You pop your thumb into your mouth, and Choso jolts to life at the sight, sitting up, suddenly breathing again.

His hand brushes your face. His own thumb tentatively brushing across the bridge of your nose.

“Please date me.”

You’re pretty certain he’ll cry for real if you say no.

#choso x reader #chousou x reader #choso jjk #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #as usual if you see a typo no you didn't #vas fics

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