#but i just remember he is damn hot

[booklyns]

white rabbit | hannibal. l [hannibal]

PART | pt 1. for pt 2: click here, for pt 3: click here.

WARNING | manipulation, cannibalism, hannibal thinking of dissecting you, mention of overdose, might be out of character because i forgot about the show, inaccurate details (??), i'm not a psychiatrist lol, unedited writing.

RELATIONSHIP | hannibal. l/gn. reader.

WORD COUNT | approx 6k.

SUMMARY | you're a little bit crazy in the head after witnessing someone brutally getting murdered in your yard, people say. maybe you are, maybe you are not. either way, it's the psychiatrist that has a say in this. not you, never you. only hannibal's words matter.

please read the warning before proceeding. minors do not interact. this is written only for fun, do not normalise this relationship. please reach out if you're in a toxic relationship or any relationship that is harmful towards you.

You remembered—

You remembered that it was raining heavily and the thunder struck as the time went on. You could recall the warmth you sought from the hot mug of coffee, eyes staring outside of the windows like a hawk as if something interesting was going to happen. It did and you regretted looking out of the windows right away, the shrill shriek was concealed by the sound of rain slamming onto the ground.

But you could clearly see the two silhouettes fighting against each other, the taller man stabbing repeatedly into the smaller figure's stomach. You could vaguely make out the splatter of blood as you froze in front of the window, the mug of coffee fell and shattered onto the floor, just in time for the lightning to thunder behind them.

You saw the murderer's face and that will haunt you forever.

You just remembered—

"Hey, take a deep breath." The police officer in front of you noticed at how your hands would tremble as you recalled back your memories, "The murderer is caught, you just need to remember that. Nothing will go wrong and nobody will go after you. Alright? What you saw was... yes, a nightmare but you managed to be the only witness. You caught the killer."

Your eyes watered and you lowered your gaze, none of his words was soothing you. But you weren't able to force out a smile this time, the nightmare was simply agonising to you and your brain was constantly giving you information of the murder. Whenever you stepped out to the yard, you could smell the scent of blood that was still lingering on the soil.

Many said you're hallucinating.

But you just weren't. It felt incredibly real.

"Okay, how about this? I will give you information about this psychiatrist, he has seemed to help us a lot with our investigation. You remember Will, the man who helped you last time?"

You nodded.

"He has seen a lot of things as well, more than you do and he is always meeting this person. Hannibal Lecter. We don't normally do this but, he might be the only one to help you right now." He handed you the minimalistic business card with an apologetic smile, "He will be of help to you, I'm sure of it. I'm sorry that it has to come to this. You're a wonderful person, you shouldn't have seen what happened on that day but I just want you to remember that the killer is caught because of your statement."

Holding onto the card as if it was a fragile gift, you gave him a dazed look and a nod, unable to force yourself to smile due to days of not sleeping. How could you sleep in a peaceful slumber when the killer kept haunting your dream? He was always constantly saying that he will haunt you down and gut you alive inside the nightmare.

You were losing your sanity bit by bit.

"Thank you, Damien."

But you couldn't tell them.

"Excuse me."

The lady by the front entrance looked up, meeting your tired eyes that showed how obvious you were surviving with the lack of sleep. You tried your hardest to smile, even if your eyes were itchy and stinging in pain, and hoped that was enough to show that you're not that crazy yet.

"Yes?"

"I've made an appointment with Doctor Hannibal Lecter?"

"Ah, yes! Around 3 in the afternoon, right?" Flipping through the pages to find your name, the lady stood up and gestured to the door at the end of the hallway, "Just enter that room, please. Doctor Lecter is waiting for you."

You bobbed your head as a quick thank you and trotted down the corridor, heart thumping as you listened to your own footsteps bouncing off the walls. It would have been a lie if you insisted that you weren't terrified to meet the psychiatrist — he could see what was wrong with you. What you saw and what traumatised you. You felt vulnerable when you thought about how Doctor Lecter would judge you. Gosh, you wished you wouldn't think too much about it but unfortunately, your mind wasn't giving you much of a choice.

Knock, knock.

"Doctor Hannibal Lecter, may I come in?"

"Oh, please do."

You slowly swung open the door and stuck your head through the large gap, instantly gasping in awe at how spacious his office was. In fact, it could even be a home if he wanted to. Considering how well and extravagant his office was, you were certain that Doctor Hannibal Lecter was a well-known psychiatrist and was paid enough. Well, he sure was, considering that all police officers knew about him. Getting a grip of yourself, you gathered what was left inside you and entered into the office, giving a nod to Hannibal as a greeting.

You ended up standing in the middle of the office like a scared, clueless and missing rabbit — extremely awkward that Hannibal's lips curled upwards in amusement.

A scared, little rabbit you were.

You reminded Hannibal of a white rabbit which definitely could be a tasty, juicy meat if it was cooked right. Oh no, you weren't Alice in the Wonderland. You're just the white rabbit who would always run here and there, giving a fun chase for the predator. Not letting his thoughts get ahead of himself, Hannibal gestured to the leather couch in the middle of the room and stood up from his personal desk to sit down in front of you, a coffee table separating the two of you from each other. The way he sat down was graceful, far elegant compared to yours even when he cross his slender leg over the other.

You were just there, twiddling with your thumbs and avoiding making eye-contact with Hannibal. The psychiatrist sure took notice of your behaviour, making a mental note of how you're acting as soon as you stepped into his office.

"Would you like something to drink?"

You shook your head, "No, no. It's fine. Thank you."

"If that's what you wish. Then, shall we begin?" Hannibal continued when you nodded at his question, "Now, do you mind telling me why you're here and what happened?"

You instantly frowned at his question, "You know, don't you? I'm sure the officer told you about what happened to me and—"

"Yes, I do know about what happened however, it is my job to listen to your explanation. It helps to make sure that you know what's happening and what has happened. You can get a grip of reality if you slowly take your time to explain what has happened. Of course, if you're still uncomfortable to discuss about this issue, we can always move on to another topic. Your choice."

Your eyes darted left and right, looking like a prey that was about to be eaten by a predator. Oh, if only you knew what was going on inside Hannibal's mind, you would surely be trembling like a terrified bunny that was actually about to be eaten. The way you looked at him pleadingly reminded him of those people that he fought against. Hell, most of them wouldn't even look at him with such an entrancing gaze. At this point, Hannibal was already thinking of the look you would give him if he were to dissect you alive.

Perhaps when he placed a knife near your throat, you would inhale a sharp, shaky breath and look into his eyes with tearful eyes. When he strangled you with a rope, you would probably try to scratch the rope to break free and thrash your legs around but unfortunately, it would be futile. You're nothing compared to Hannibal Lecter who was an experienced killer. Maybe he could try gutting you alive, most probably you will die from blood loss or faint from the excruciating pain.

Who knows?

"No, I will explain everything from the beginning."

Your voice pulled Hannibal out of his own random thoughts. It was fairly easy for Hannibal to focus on his patient even when he was craving something for dinner. After all, he was a professional psychiatrist and right now, it was his job to help you get a grip on yourself. You were losing yourself, Hannibal could tell just from your tired and defeated gaze alone.

You reminded him of Will Graham.

Looking similar to a pitiful rabbit, you were hoping for something to save you from the hellish nightmare. Perhaps Hannibal Lecter could be the one to pull you awake but that depended on him, wouldn't it? Whether he wanted to make you stay awake or make you to lose your sanity, it was all his choice from the very beginning.

"Thank you. Continue then."

You clasped your hands, holding so tight that your knuckles were beginning to turn white. Oh, what a pitiful look you had there, Hannibal thought. He wondered how you were going to explain the entire situation to him without a quivering voice. Something about the way you looked was stirring up his inside to play with you for a while longer. Just like Will Graham, you simply felt.. human. Something about you was screaming humanity — so fragile, so humane and so terrified of being hunted down by a predator.

"It happened a few weeks ago. Maybe even a month, I can't really remember. But it happened, that's all I know." You bit the inside of your cheeks, "I was at home alone, it was during midnight and I was just about to continue my work. Write, I mean. I am a writer. And as I was about to walk back upstairs, I looked out the window. It was dark but I saw figures in my yard. Something about the entire scene terrified me, it still does. I saw something glinting even from a far away and the sound... I couldn't hear it properly but it's there, I know that! I could hear the knife piercing into the person again and again. And then, the lightning struck and the man looked at me."

Hannibal nodded and you continued with your gaze on your trembling hands.

"He saw me, my face. He stood there as if he's thinking whether he should kill me or just let me go. I saw half of his face because it was too dark but he didn't know that, right? All he knew was that I saw him, that's it. I know he's going to kill me, that's what murderers do, right?"

Hannibal hummed with a cold smile.

"So I ran, I quickly locked the door and got to the phone, and dialed in for the police. I think he knew what I was doing, that's why he came running to my house and started bashing onto the door. When he realised he couldn't get it, he smashed the window with his elbow. Before he got in, I yelled at him that I called the police and they're on the way. He... stopped and just glared at me under the stupid cap he wore. I remember the cap very well, it was a baseball cap with a weird logo on it. And—" You shook, "And he told me that he would find me before leaving."

Hannibal took note of your trembling hands and shoulders, presenting you with a reassuring smile. Everything about him was elegant, from the way he dressed himself neatly, the way he smiled at you and possibly even the way he stabbed his victims.

But you didn't know about the last part, right?

"Would you like to take a break?"

You pursed your lips and shook your head, determination that covered the trauma visible in your own luscious eyes, "No, I can continue. There's still a bit more to go, after all." You gave him your best smile albeit stiff and forced, "Uhm, and then the police came and I was under their protection for a while until the murderer was captured."

"Did you get attacked by the murderer while under the WITSEC?"

"No but—"

He raised a brow, "But?"

You suddenly hugged yourself tight, feeling every inch of your body prickling with anxiety and fear. The discomfort suddenly came surging throughout your body, even when Hannibal's warm eyes were there to accompany you. The familiar sound of those muffled footsteps came ringing inside your ears, and you weren't sure anymore whether it could have been real or fake. You had no idea, you just had no fucking clue about why you're shivering like something was about to fall on you and take your damn life away.

"I could feel his stare. His footsteps." Your voice gave up on you and alas, cracked, "Everything. I could feel and hear everything. It's haunting me every fucking moment and I can't sleep anymore. He might escape from the prison and stab me in my sleep. It's my damn brain that wouldn't stop panicking me."

Giving you a firm nod, Hannibal scribbled something in his notebook.

"Is there anything else you would like to add?"

You looked at him in the eyes, completely tired and hollow inside as the light in your eyes disappeared a very long time ago. Personally, you had been to several psychiatrists before and none, zero, of them was able to help you. In fact, it had been proven to worsen day by day and none of them was able to stop it from worsening. And right now, you were at the worst point of your entire life. You were this close to breaking apart and this man in front of you was the last piece of hope you could have.

"Can you help me, Doctor Lecter?"

He chuckled, "Do you think I can help you?"

"No but I hope I'm wrong. They're calling me insane, Doctor Lecter. Whenever I say that there is a man following after me, they look at me as if I've seen a ghost. When I look back because of the sound of footsteps, they look at me as if I'm sick in the head. When I could hear his voice again and again, they told me to seek help. I have been trying, haven't I?" You tilted your head with a pained smile, extremely sick of everything that had been going on. "Do you think I'm crazy, Doctor Lecter?"

"I do not call my patients crazy."

Hannibal called your name with a professionalism in the tone of his voice but something— something about the way he called your name was hiding a secret deep inside his chest. You almost shuddered, not from excitement or euphoria, but dread. It felt as if something sinister was waiting behind the curtains, waiting to be unraveled. Again and again, you scolded yourself for thinking of such a thought. It was your trauma and paranoia, you reminded yourself constantly. Hannibal Lecter was just a psychiatrist and he's trying to help you right now.

If only you could just give him a minute of cooperation—

"For our next session, I want you to write what you experience inside a book and hand it to me. Anything you experience, from footsteps or voices. I just need to have a general idea of what you're experiencing on daily basis to decide the next course of my action." Hannibal smiled and it almost seemed like he was charming you with his dull eyes, "Will you do that for me?"

You hesitated before nodding, completely stunned from what he just said, "Yeah, yeah. Sure. I will bring in the book for our next session. Just don't... freak out."

"Of course not." Hannibal glanced at the watch around his slim wrist, "Looks like the time is up, I say we have gone through yet another important part of the session. We will continue our session on Monday."

"Thank you, Doctor Hannibal Lecter."

He walked over to the door and held it open for you, gesturing for you to leave the office in a polite manner without making you self-conscious. You gave him a nod, having no strength to actually smile at him and just walked past him.

"Have a nice day."

You can't sleep.

Groaning, you looked out the window of your apartment, a new house that you decided to move into after the previous incident. The sky was beginning to turn orange, slowly fading a darker shade of orange, and you were beginning to feel every ounce of energy leaving your body. Even your life was beginning to weaken and get thinner, you doubted you could live without any sleep.

How many days had it been?

You simply couldn't close your eyes and sleep for a few days now.

"I will find you."

Snapping your entire body straight, you took a gasp and looked around you in horror. The couch felt incredibly sticky with your sweat and the time stopped, your eyes darted all over the place in hope to see what was haunting you. It wasn't long until you felt a hot breath behind your ear, the same and familiar voice ringing inside your itching ears.

"You can't run away."

You let out horrified scream and swiveled around, falling onto the cold floor with a loud thud. Your chest heaved up and down, finding the difficulty to breathe steadily as you tried to search for the murderer, the man who wouldn't fucking leave you alone. Crawling backward, your ears rang with footsteps and knocking on the door. Everything was happening all over again and by the corner of your eyes, you could see a black silhouette standing by the corner of the room.

"Hide."

Yelping from fright, you stumbled forward and slammed your entire weight onto the door before sprinting out from your house. You couldn't remember if you had locked your damn door before bolting away, everything just happened rather fast and your mind was simply in a state of chaos. A part of your brain was blank while the other part was pleading you to just hide, to just seek someone's help. The only one you could think of was Doctor Hannibal Lecter.

Surely he knew what to do with this situation?

Hands trembling and eyes burning in tears, you searched for Hannibal's contact number in your phone and desperately tried to hide in the shadow. Pedestrians, who walked by, glanced at you with confusion before brushing off your presence, probably thinking that you were yet another lunatic seeking for extra money here and there.

"Ah, good evening—"

"I saw him. I fucking saw him, I swear!"

You whispered harshly into the phone, hand gripping onto the device until your knuckles turned white and your throat burned from the cries you let out. Hannibal immediately grew quiet, possibly knowing very well that you were sobbing your heart out and were at a vulnerable state.

"He's here, he's here. I don't know what to do. I'm just—"

You wished you could admit how crazy you were.

Hannibal called your name calmly, "Slow down and tell me where you are."

"I'm— I'm around the XXX district—"

"Just hold on, I am coming."

You had no idea how long you had been waiting but you waited until you were sitting on the dirty ground while hugging your legs close to your chest, tired eyes staring at your legs. Everything wasn't as clear as before, what you saw was blurry and hazy. Even when Hannibal came jogging and standing beside you, you could barely register his presence.

You just had no idea what was wrong with you.

"Are you alright?"

Hannibal knelt down beside you and he called your name.

You weren't sure how to answer his call.

Do you just explain everything from A to Z or do you just admit that you're batshit crazy? Something was wrong with your head, you knew that but you weren't sure if it was because of the lack of sleep or the horror of witnessing a murder. It wasn't even a gruesome murder where intestines were spilling out, it was just a plain, simple murder. So why were you so frightened?

Why did you call him in the first place?

Was it because he's your doctor? Hannibal Lecter was the one who popped out inside your brain when you thought to call for help. He was the only one you could rely on, he knew what he was doing as a psychiatrist. But calling him when you're freaking out? You weren't even sure what you were doing anymore.

"I can't."

Your head throbbed.

Hannibal tilted his head, "Can't?"

You wanted to say something but you forgot, your brain wasn't being nice to you this time as well. Before you could even blink and register what he said, your brain shut down. It stopped working instantly, nothing came in and nothing came out, and your eyes rolled to the back of your damn head, your consciousness faded away.

Hannibal grabbed the back of your head before it could collide with the wall behind you, his eyes watching how you just collapsed. Perhaps broke down would be the right words. He could see the dried tears by your cheeks and the dark circle beneath your eyes simply looked terrible. Without hesitating, he carried your entire body before any pedestrian could ask a question.

He glanced at you, there's definitely no way you could wake up and tell him where you live. It wouldn't be that easy.

To his home then.

Now, Hannibal occasionally would get guests at his home but none would stay until the night. And just like his refined taste, the interior of his house was simply clean. Many would say that Hannibal were like a fine red wine, despite his age, he's still a charming man.

Watching you lie on the couch was perhaps the golden opportunity that he could get. You're unconscious, deep in your slumber, and Hannibal clearly had the chance to make a slice down your abdomen. Yet at that moment, none of those ran through his brain. Hannibal only watched the way your brows were still creased like a rabbit that sleeps with their guard up.

A white rabbit.

Hannibal chuckled.

A white rabbit served as a meal wasn't that bad.

But did he want to actually kill you?

No, Hannibal had no intent to kill you yet, at least not right now. He liked taking his own sweet time and seeing how clueless you were in front of him, Hannibal decided to indulge in the moment for a while longer. Besides, you wouldn't run off or go anywhere. He had your sanity in his own hands and whatever he says has the power to shape you.

Whether he wanted you to be crazy or rely on him for comfort, Hannibal had the say in this. Not you, not anyone else.

Just him.

When you did wake up after hours of slumber, you noticed the sky outside was darkening and Hannibal Lecter was just sitting in a chair with book in his hand. You weren't completely sure what it was about but the title was something related to sleep deprivation.

Was he looking for more information about your condition?

You couldn't help but to feel grateful.

"Doctor Lecter."

Hannibal tore his eyes off the book and looked at you, a relieved smile on his face despite his chaotic thoughts prior to your wake. But there's no need for you to know what he was thinking about. All you needed to know was that Hannibal Lecter was the one you should rely on right now.

He can fix you.

And he can destroy you.

"You're awake." Hannibal placed aside the book onto the coffee table and stood up, sighing at the sore back, "What do you wish to drink?"

Your eyes widened and you quickly shook your head frantically, like a prey that was trying not to offend the predator. Hannibal found it a tad bit hilarious and the corner of his lips twitched upwards. Just how pitifully adorable could you get?

Just like Will, you're breaking down on the inside.

"No, no. There's no need for that, you've done a lot for me. I can't keep overstaying and disrupting your privacy here."

"There's no need to worry, my home is always open to you. Whenever you need help or so, feel free to reach out to me. I'll get you a cup of water, it's best for your condition right now."

Hannibal, without heeding your words, walked into the kitchen and spoke from there. You couldn't see his figure anymore, even if you tried your hardest to crane your neck back. At least you could hear the sound of water splashing into an empty glass.

"Did you have a good rest?"

You rubbed your tired eyes, barely feeling any difference.

"I guess so."

"You've been putting stress onto your brain and body. Adding the fact that you've not been sleeping well for a few days, your brain simply couldn't take it anymore. The rest earlier shouldn't be called a sleep."

He eventually walked out with a glass of water, his back straight and his long sleeves were folded neatly near his elbows. As you took the glass while mumbling a soft thank you, your eyes were instantly drawn to Hannibal's arms. Something about it was.. magnetising, especially with the way his arm flexed when he pulled back and his grip loosened. It was just catching your eyes.

Hannibal continued as if he hadn't noticed your stare.

If he did notice, then he must have been good at covering his expression up.

"What happened earlier was just, sort of, like an emergency button. To prevent yourself from damaging yourself any further, your brain simply shut down. You need sleep," Hannibal mentioned your name abruptly, causing you to flinch, "How long have you not been sleeping?"

"I... don't remember." Your grasp around the cup tightened, "It just sort of like a cycle. I don't sleep and at some point I would just pass out. I can't sleep at all."

Hannibal hummed and took a seat in front of you.

"Have you tried sleeping pills then?"

"The doctors said I shouldn't take sleeping pills with my current condition. They're afraid that I might, somewhat, overdose due to my unstable mental state."

"I see, then that's understandable. Have you tried having a roommate then? Perhaps having someone you could trust in your house could give you a sense of reassurance."

"I tried before but, maybe I just couldn't trust them enough to feel safe. I would often wake up screaming and my paranoia sometimes would scare them off. I don't wish to involve my friends either, they would just freak out."

Hannibal nodded, "Then how about you stay here for tonight?"

Bewildered, you blinked owlishly.

"Sorry?"

"It's late now as you can see. I could send you back but it wouldn't do you any good with your current condition. You can rest here for tonight in the guest room and perhaps, this could help you as well. It might give you a sense of reassurance that you're looking for."

He gave you a reassuring smile, almost too reassuring.

"But— Wouldn't this go against your policy?"

You were certain that all psychiatrists had their own rules or policies regarding their patients. One being to never leak out the patient's details to anyone else and the other would be being professional with all patients. If this matter got out, you weren't sure if Hannibal Lecter could still keep his career.

"I intend to be professional with you all the time so rest assured, there's no need for you to worry about the policy. I am simply trying to help and understand my patient. As long as it's to help you, there's no law being broken. There's nothing wrong with that, am I right?"

Reluctantly, you nodded, "I— I guess so."

Hannibal smiled, "Will you stay here for tonight?"

"If that is not going to interrupt your work then yes, please. I would like to give it a try and... I don't feel comfortable returning home yet."

"Of course, you're welcomed here."

"Thank you, Doctor Lecter."

"Shall we have our dinner?"

When you thought about dinner, you were expecting instant noodles and fried eggs but of course, you wouldn't expect someone like Hannibal Lecter to cook instant noodles. What you didn't expect was a full course meal — medium-rare steak, vegetables adorning the meal and even a small bowl of mushroom soup and Hannibal Lecter was extremely fascinating when he prepared the meal.

Magnetising, even.

When he sliced the raw meat.

When he gently placed the meat on the hot pan.

When he just cut the cooked meat on your plate for you.

You took a deep breath and paused on your thoughts, reminding yourself that you shouldn't stare at your psychiatrist. He may be charming and a gentleman but you're his patient. You needed to remind yourself that there's a boundary line in between the two of you.

"Have a taste."

Hannibal placed the plate of steak in front of you, the same gentle smile on his face as he watched your reaction eagerly. He had always been a fan of watching people enjoying his food without knowing the type of meat he served — they're always so clueless about what they're eating and they usually treat it just like any other meat: pork, beef, chicken.

Humanity was hilarious sometimes.

And now you were the same.

You stared at the steak in awe, eyes glistening with hunger as you realised how long it had been since you ate a healthy, delicious meal. As Hannibal took a seat in front of you, he did not hesitate to bite into the meat, the juice flowing into his mouth just like usual.

Gingerly, you took a bite out of the meat.

"Whoa! This is good."

The way your lifeless eyes shone from amazement was making Hannibal smile. It was clear that your fatigue was gone for a minute and the reason behind it was Hannibal's cooking. His work, his masterpiece — every drop of blood did not go to waste.

If you had known the meat you're eating wasn't beef, pork or chicken, what sort of reaction would you give him? Perhaps you would gag and puke everything out, bawling your eyes out just like when you were in session with him. A reaction that's common, something humane.

Maybe he should entertain you before using you as an ingredient.

But he did like the way you trembled and relied on him.

"I'm glad to hear that you like it."

"Yes, thank you very much for treating me to dinner." Your eyes softened and once again, your exhaustion came back like a wave of ocean, "I don't have anyone to make me dinner right now, you're the first in a long while. Thank you, Doctor Lecter, for this delicious meal."

Hannibal chuckled, "You're flattering me."

"I'm genuinely complimenting your cooking." You grinned brightly, something that he did not expect, "It's not something I can whip out like you do. You're an amazing person, Doctor Lecter."

"I'm just a psychiatrist."

"The one that I put my entire hope on."

You lowered your gaze.

"Thank you for trying to save me."

Perhaps save was a rather strong word but you did need saving, you needed him to pull you out of the state of your mind. Hannibal Lecter was as of the ray of light in an empty, dark tunnel and he might be the one to embrace you with warmth, to stop you from panicking and thinking nonsense.

It wasn't that bad to wish, right?

Hannibal did not mention anything else during dinner and when you were ready to rest, he was awfully kind enough to show the guest room and the restroom. As the guest room was extravagant, you began to wonder how Hannibal's own bedroom would look like. It could be fancy as well but considering the vibe he radiated, you assumed his bedroom would be simple yet rich.

Rich with the scent of a gentleman.

You laid on the bed with an empty gaze, staring at the ceiling that was shrouded with darkness due to the presence of light aside from the bedside lamp. Like an idiot, you waited to fall asleep. You waited and waited yet nothing seemed to happen.

At this point, you weren't even sure how many hours had flown past.

Your eyes slowly trailed to the coat rack and caught a glimpse of something round — something awfully and horribly familiar. It was a baseball cap. A fucking baseball cap that haunted your reality once again. Chilling shudder ran down your spine as you let out a frightened scream, suddenly having an obnoxious idea that the murderer might be here, attempting to scare you until you could have gotten a heart attack.

The image of the man snarling through the window.

The sound of his elbow smashing against the glass.

You feared everything — his murderous gaze that you felt on your back all the damn time even during the day, his glistening knife that sought for your blood and flesh, and the idea that he might be out there.

He told you before that he would find you once he gets out.

How could you not fear that?

Crying even louder as you smacked your ears hard, you begged for him — it, whatever it was that was bothering you — to get out of your damn brain. You covered your face with your hands, closing your eyes tight until all you could see was pure darkness.

You could hear the door creaking open.

Hannibal called you out.

"Get it out! Get it out!"

"I need you to take a deep breath and explain to me." Hannibal called out your name once again, trying to get a grip of your attention, "Get what out?"

"The cap! The stupid cap!"

With confusion, Hannibal stared at you, "There's no cap."

"It's there on the rack!"

"Open your eyes slowly, take a deep breath and take a good look."

Noticing how oddly calm Hannibal Lecter was, you slowly peeled open your eyes and glanced nervously at the coat rack — there was nothing there. Nothing at all. You quavered and your voice, full of dread and fear, vibrated against your throat.

Just what did you see then?

You're growing insane.

You're fucking mad.

Holy shit.

"No... No, I— I saw it?"

"It's not here."

"I— No.. No way."

Breathing heavily, you struggled to catch a breath as you gave a pleading look to Hannibal. You weren't sure where to look at — his eyes, his nose, his mouth. Your brain was going everywhere all at once and you felt as if everything was about to explode into pieces. Everything was hurting, everything was suffocating. You were drowning yourself with your own thoughts, fear, and just everything in general.

"Listen to my voice and focus on it."

Hannibal voiced out, stepping closer to you and noticing that you're hyperventilating with a frightened look. Your eyes were burning from the urge to let those tears out.

"Close your eyes and take a deep breath, follow my voice."

You listened and closed your eyes.

"Inhale."

You inhaled.

"Exhale."

You exhaled.

He repeated everything once again until you could feel the crushing weight on your chest gone. You noticed the bed tilting to the side, Hannibal's weight was causing the mattress to sink. Something about knowing his presence was beside you was comforting in a sense.

It was like a security camera looking after you.

You only focused on his voice and his presence, not the thoughts inside your head and certainly not the hidden voice behind your brain. You didn't know how long it took for you to stop breathing heavily as if someone was strangling you but you assumed it did take a while. After all, it was never easy to calm you down. Beginning to relax after feeling exhausted from panicking, you felt yourself drifting into a short slumber, thinking that your position was safe.

That you had nothing to fear.

Unknown to you, Hannibal was holding onto a baseball cap behind his back, hidden from your gaze and only smiled when he saw how you convinced yourself that you're sick in the head.

One by one, Hannibal will break you apart.

And he will be the only one to glue you back.

part 2 coming soon???

[emdotcom]

The Mario movie thing is so funny to me. Here, look at this:

Sonic movies (1, 2, & w/ 3 on the way) come out, does INCREDIBLE in box office, decimates Marvel films, who previously had a stranglehold

Nintendo sees this, wants a piece of that pie, buckles down to make a Mario movie Incorrect order of events, as pointed out here! Mario movie announced before the public knew about Sonic movie.

(Potentially because the previous Mario movie was so out there, did poorly, & was disliked by fans & then promptly forgotten,) they pair with Illumination, a studio that is largely known for making very sterile films

Btw, is it just me that finds it weird that there is no mention from Nintendo or online of the previous movie, in all this? Maybe I'm the only one who remembers this film idk

They announce casting. Everyone immediately boos because they cast Chris Pratt as Mario.

Immediate outrage, as Charles Martinet, the voice of Mario for DECADES, was not cast in his claim to fame roll

There is a (unsourced) rumor that a test screening for the film was met with disappointment, making Nintendo unhappy

Slightly corroborating this, Nintendo buys Dynamo Pictures, to make Nintendo Pictures, with the intent to make future movies in-house

Anticipation for the movie likens it to other sterile animated movies of the last 10 years, like the Minions movies

Trailer comes out.

People continue to boo Chris Pratt, a bad cast for a beloved character who is putting 0 effort into his voice, in comparison to all other VAs putting in 110%

Chris Pratt goes to bed "depressed," at seeing the response I was incorrect, that is an older article, about when he was thanking his wife for providing a healthy child, to which people drew immediate parallels to his ex-wife's son, who has many health complications & needed many surgeries.

But with your help, we can make him being depressed after media backlash reality!

Lol, &, may I say, lmao.

[jimmyspades]

"Perhaps I should assume control... Just out of curiosity, if you were in control–" "I'd shut up and kiss you." ... "It's funny, I don't feel in control." BOSTON LEGAL 5.11 "Juiced" (Deleted scene)

[kaidanalenkosprmanager]

THE BEST OF THE NORMANDY SUMMIT

Featuring: Cmdr. Sophie Shepard, Primarch Adrien Victus, Dalatrass Linron, and Urdnot Wrex With: Comm. Specialist Samantha Traynor Commander, you need to keep Cerberus at bay- I can't overstate what a victory a treaty between the Turians and the Krogan would be for the Alliance. We need all the help we can get... Mass Effect 3: Legendary Edition (2021)

[mo-ok]

a friend and a boy 🚗🚗🚗

[running-in-the-dark]

-

[loregoddess]

so I've been watching the KH Union Cross stuff (in order, thank goodness, this would be so confusing to piece together otherwise), and like, I knew enough about UX that the appearance of the foretellers at the end of KH3 wasn't confusing bc I knew who they all were, but getting the expanded, explained lore and I'm like okay, actually these weirdos in animal masks are pretty cool, glad to know they'll show up (presumably) in future games

also I'm glad that memorizing the Latin names for the seven deadly sins is finally paying off

[iirulancorrino]

Part of the book I found the most horrifying/fascinating is when Aviv talks about basically becoming addicted to Lexapro (that’s not the word she uses but I don’t know what else you would call it) and taking it for ten years and counting after being prescribed a six month trial because she basically can’t handle the withdrawal symptoms. She ultimately describes being on Lexapro as giving her a different personality (one she likes better) to the point where when she attempts to stop taking it during her first pregnancy she stops remembering why she wanted a baby in the first place and considers getting an abortion (she gets back on Lexapro instead).

She describes her experience in a fairly light tone but it seriously freaked me out because it’s a perfect description of what makes me so leery of mood-altering drugs. If you take something that changes your personality that much, what does it mean about what makes you, you? How can you be sure that the decisions you’re making are ones you would still want to make if you stopped taking it? If you have a debilitating mental illness I guess that’s the point, but it seems like such a red flag that doctors are so cavalier about prescribing drugs to people with pretty mild issues when we don’t even really know how they work and they can be extremely difficult to withdrawal from. 

[the-fog-system]

.

[mainfaggot]

just found out the guy i was frenemies with in middle school got a boyfriend

[kaluawoo]

so many characters to be worried about

[mythvoiced]

-. I mean--

Wolf monster sleeping hours.

[thorstenlannert]

>///<

Richy Müller als Thorsten Lannert im Tatort "Freigang", 2014

[fullmoonfireball]

i gotta say there is a certain irony to being a lesbian who has almost exclusively garnered thirst for xir art of male characters

[felikatze]

sometimes ocs come to you in a dream and you gotta accept that they're here now with a full narrative

[tonycries]

Great With Kids? (You Can Have Mine) - C.K.

Synopsis. When your younger brother gets a new babysitter, only two questions linger on your mind: 1. How come your parents didn’t trust you in charge? 2. How dare the sexy babysitter be so perfect - it made you want some attention too.

Pairings. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, babysitter! Choso, male masturbation, voyeurism (from reader), Choso with nipple piercings and eyeliner hngh, unprotected, 69, choking, overstim, oral (male + female receiving), creampie, dirty talk, friends-to-lovers, Choso is down BAD and always has been, mentioned younger brother, swearing. 

Word count. 9.0k

A/N. Gojo longfic next time because I miss my pretty blue-eyed princess.

Your younger brother’s new babysitter was hot.

With a capital h. 

Scarily hot, in fact, that it made you wonder why the hell people stopped having babysitters past the age of 14.

Ah, Choso Kamo, the ever-elusive eldest son of the Itadori’s from next door. You still remember the first time you met him - well, mostly. 

The world was rocking gently at exactly 12:34AM after a night out with your old high school friends. And so were you, stumbling tipsily into your driveway, soaking up the warm summer air. 

Fumbling with the doorbell, you fully expected your parents to still be away on that extravagant couples’ cruise they’d won - one that probably cost more than your tuition.

Which also meant you expected the old lady from down the street to be babysitting tonight. Still wide awake and absolutely bursting at the seams to give you a detailed rundown about the neighborhood tea - who’s divorcing who, and her top suspects for who stole her prized garden gnome. 

What you certainly did not expect was for that door to swing open and to find yourself face-to-face with the most ridiculously attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on. Shirtless.

Dazed, your eyes involuntarily sweep his figure from head to toe - taking in every inch of those dark, sleep-mussed locks falling effortlessly around his slightly smudged eyeliner, all the way down to the chiseled- oh god, were those nipple piercings?

Alas, the universe isn’t on your side, and you don’t get to confirm, because suddenly the door slams right in your face, almost rattling off its hinges at the force. The sound echoes in your ears as you blink in disbelief at what the fuck that was. Was that real - was he real? 

You double check the address you’ve known for years - just in case - because, hell, if you were dreaming then this was a damn good one. Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on something that won’t make your head spin before reaching for the door again.

But before your finger could even graze the doorbell, it cracks open once more. The same mysterious man towered before you, this time - you note, with a tinge of disappointment - wearing a snug t-shirt that still doesn’t do much to hide that godly physique. 

“Not that m’complaining, but who’re you and why’re ya in my house?” you manage to slur out, voice betraying the shiver that runs down your spine at his intense gaze. He simply leans against the doorframe, arms crossed and expression unreadable. 

“Choso,” he drawls lightly, eyes never leaving your face. Shit, even his voice was hot. 

You nod slowly, mind racing as you blearily try to remember just where you’d heard that name before. Some family friend? Nah, you’d know him if that was the case. An actor? God, he sure had the looks. 

Mercifully sensing your struggle, he clears his throat, snapping you out of your drunken reverie. “Not surprised you haven’t seen me around, sweetheart, but my parents live next door.” he offers, tone laced with amusement and something else you can’t place. “M’babysitting your brother for tonight.”

You almost don’t hear the second part of his explanation, because it hits you like a ton of bricks - oh shit, this was Choso? Choso either-a-hallucination-or-a-vampire Kamo? 

In all your years of having the Itadoris as your neighbors, you’d only seen fleeting glimpses of their eldest son - a flash of black hair at the window, or a sculpted, tattooed arm waving off Yuji at the doorway. And, well, you didn’t know what exactly you’d anticipated. You just didn’t expect him to be so…hot. Or stand half-naked in front of you.

God, he made you more dizzy than the alcohol. 

“Damn,” you mutter under your breath, more to yourself than anything. Yet Choso still hears, quirking an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Everything alright there?” he hums, the hint of a tease in his tone. Smug bastard.

You nod your head, clutching onto the doorframe for support as you lean in closer. “Mhm, perfect.” Wait- was that a blush dusting his face? Damn, this dream just keeps getting better and better.

Liquid courage coursing through you, you bat your lashes, too tipsy to even attempt a wink, “Well, Choso, let me know if ya need any help babysitting, jus’ know I’m always down to-” 

And then - perhaps to save you from the embarrassment of an awful pickup line - that’s when the universe decides to remind you of exactly how many kamikaze shots you’ve downed. The world lurches beneath you. Your hands scramble for something - anything - solid.

Ah, falling down really does feel good, especially when the ground is so warm, and soft. Smelling faintly of vanilla, with a hint of sunshine. 

And then it’s all black. 

To match his eyes.

---

The smell of vanilla still lingers in your mind as you slowly pry your eyes open, squinting against the harsh morning sunlight streaming in through your window. Groaning, you feel as though you’ve been run over by a truck. Five of them, in fact. 

Trying to will away the pounding headache, you bury yourself deeper into the snug covers of…your bed…that you’ve been tucked into? 

Oh shit. Sitting up with a gasp, you hastily try to rub away the sleep from your pointedly makeup-less eyes, remnants of last night now flooding back to you with a surge of embarrassment. 

Choso. Shirtless. Babysitting. Shirtless. But most importantly - your awful display of drunken flirting. The man appears once in a blue moon and you hit on him? Perfect. Great. Wonderful. 

And just as you’re entertaining the idea of convincing your parents to move neighborhoods, you realize with a jolt that he must’ve been the one that carried you up here and took care of you. Even after all of that. 

With a sigh, you rub your temples, wincing as it throbs at the laughter carrying from downstairs - one of them so decidedly Choso. Deep voice ringing in your ears, you can almost feel the lingering traces of his strong arms holding you flush against his chest, or the warm hands gently wiping off your eye shadow.

And it seems Choso had a penchant for interrupting your barely-lucid thoughts, because the door creaks open, ripping through the heavy silence in your room. Heart in your throat, you startle as Choso carefully steps into your room, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“G’morning,” he says, voice so gentle that some small, strange part of you thinks you could listen to it forever. “Feeling any better?”

You offer him a sheepish grin, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks at the memory of your drunken antics. “Yeah, I think so. Thanks for... well, everything.”

Chuckling softly, his gaze softens as he steps closer, taking in your slightly-disheveled appearance. “It was the least I could do, sweetheart. Now, c’mon, your brother and I are making pancakes.” 

You fidget nervously under his gaze, suddenly feeling self-conscious even as he turns to leave the room at your silence. Say it, you idiot. Say it. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, words tumbling out in a rush. “I didn’t mean to... y’know, act like a Victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles for the first time-” 

“It’s al-”

 “I swear I’ve seen ankles-”

A large hand cradling your cheek, his thick rings searingly cold against your chin as he tilts your chin up to meet his warm gaze - and those suspiciously red cheeks. “S’alright, sweetheart. I didn’t mind.” 

And, well, if this was his way of shutting you up then by God was it effective. Because you didn’t trust yourself to speak even as Choso gives you an easy smile. Even as he withdraws his hand, the air thick with something you were too hungover to overthink about. 

Not until he turns back to the door, flashing you a teasing smile, “Besides, it was kinda cute.”

And with that, Choso steps through the door with the audacity of someone that hadn’t uttered words that sent your mind reeling. 

As the creak of the door echoes behind him, Choso’s warm touch still sears into your skin. Something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach. Only one thought rings clear in your hazy, still-hungover mind - one that makes your cheeks flare: this was going to be a very interesting summer.

You just didn’t realize how interesting it would be. Not until two weeks, four days, and sixteen hours after you first met Choso. 

It starts out innocently enough, taking the early shift at your internship, volunteering to help with the chores - you find yourself subconsciously making excuses to be around him whenever he’s scheduled to babysit.

You’ve probably learned everything there is to know about the man by now - from the way he likes his eggs (sunny side up) to that time he accidentally dyed his brother’s hair neon pink while trying out a recipe for homemade hair dye. 

Likewise, Choso happens to be the only one who knows that you were the one that accidentally caused that flood in your dorm that required five floors and two plumbers to resolve. 

At this point, Choso’s at your house more often than not - where Choso is, there is you, and where you are, there is Choso. And your brother…and sometimes Yuji, but semantics.

“Semantics” are probably why you find yourself rushing home straight from your internship, ignoring every invitation for an after-work drink - to see your brother, of course. No other reason - definitely not because of the way Choso will inevitably be there too. Or because of the way his smile makes something strange coil in your stomach. Or-

Okay, maybe you speedwalked up your driveway faster than usual a little bit because of Choso. But as you’ve said - semantics.

Yet, sometimes you even think there’s a familiar flicker of something more in those dark eyes.

…

Nahhh. 

Stepping into the yard, the air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the deafening sounds of splashing, a smile tugs at your lips at the awfully wholesome view that greets you.

Your brother and Yuji are locked in a fierce battle, water guns being brandished like the most seasoned warriors.

And Choso - towering over everyone else - was at the epicenter of the chaos, his laughter booming over the commotion. Shirtless. Again. 

His bare, tattooed torso gleams in the light, muscles flexing with each movement as if sculpted by the gods themselves. Droplets of water glistening on his dark hair like diamonds in the fading light.

Traitorously, your cheeks burn as you step closer, desperately trying to rip your gaze from the milky abs peeking out and the tantalizing glint of metal winking so sinfully at you under the sun.

So he does have nipple piercings.

God, you have to get your mind out of the gutter.

As you approach, Choso’s grin widens, a playful sparkle dancing in his eyes. Without hesitation, he scoops up a large water balloon and takes aim, launching it with frightening accuracy in your direction.

The icy water hits you before the realization, and you squeal in surprise as the balloon connects right with your chest, seeping into your shirt. Glancing down with a startled laugh, you realize a moment too late that your once-pristine white shirt is now completely see-through. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks, but the damage has been done. Smug bastard, you think, glancing up at Choso, slightly red-faced yet wearing a sly grin as he surveys the aftermath of his well-aimed shot.

“Shoulda just told me if you wanted a peak, you lecher. This shirt was expensive, y’know.” you call out, mock-glaring at the man that stood so infuriatingly beautifully in front of you.

Choso throws his head back in a laugh that makes something tingle all the way down from your toes to your burning cheeks. “Maybe you shoulda just kept your guard up, sweetheart,” 

You scoff, “Maybe you should stop being a distraction then.”

His grin widens, reaching for another nearby water balloon, “S’not my fault you’re so easily distracted. No need to be a sore loser.”

“Oh, it’s on now.”

“Well, well, looks like we have a new contender in the water war,” Choso remarks mischievously to the kids, gesturing towards you. Yeah, really smug bastard.

Ah, what the hell. This shirt was on sale anyway.

---

Now, Choso knows you’re hot - always has.

Ever since that first day he moved in next door, when he stumbled upon you sunbathing in your backyard wearing that sinful bikini. And, well, after hours of moving boxes upon boxes of Yuji’s dumbbells, the mere sight of you was like the gates of heaven spread wide open for him. 

But, especially now - all drenched and disheveled. Your shirt sticking to your curves like a second skin in all the ways that should be illegal - and also makes some strange part of him slightly jealous. Beaming smile directed right at him - shit, this might as well just be the final nail on his coffin. Death by you.

Amidst the chaos and confusion, you're a force to be reckoned with. Choso can barely tear his eyes off of you, breathless and victorious in pure adrenaline-fueled bravado, declaring “Beg for mercy and I’ll let you off easy, Choso.”

“Kinky, but absolutely not, sweetheart.”

Clutching a particularly large water balloon, raising your hand high high high - hurtling it straight at him with an unapologetic smirk, “Then, better run for your life.”

Oh? Maybe Choso was a masochi- what was that- 

A flash of his favorite lacy pink, your poor buttons faltering at the sheer force of your throw. Choso doesn’t even feel the cold splash! square on his chest as he’s drenched icily from head to toe. Too transfixed.

Too focused on trying not to make it obvious he’s mentally calculating the chances of your shirt coming off altogether…

Eyes locked on the sliver of soft skin peeking out at him. Only registering you and the traitorous rush of heat flooding his cheeks - and his cock - as he averts his gaze, internally smacking himself for letting his thoughts wander into such dangerous territory. 

Both thanking and cursing the gods above, Choso realizes with a pang that he’s not just screwed, he’s absolutely twisted, tangled, and tied up in knots.

So utterly screwed, in fact, that he probably needs to make a quick run to the bathroom now.

Like, right now.

Shit. 

With a muttered excuse of a bathroom break, each step more urgent than the last, Choso can’t help but wonder if the water balloon incident was some sort of cosmic punishment for his wandering thoughts. Some divine intervention from his ancestors for being such a pussy around you all these years.

And as he slams that bathroom door closed, bunches his pants bunched underneath his heavy balls, and takes his throbbing cock in his hands, Choso thinks he might just see the gates of heaven - well, at least he’ll be able to give his ancestors a piece of his mind there.

With a groan, he leans against the closed door, eyes scrunching shut as he takes his swollen cock in his fist. Leaking hot precum and glistening in the dim bathroom light. He grips the base tightly, pulsing and achingly hard for you. 

Cold rings searing against his skin, Choso wastes no time - wanting to get this over with and join you again more than anything - starting up a hasty, desperate pace up and down his length that makes his knees buckle. Tighter on the base, just teasing his furiously flushed tip. Pink. Pink to match your bra.

With you so sinfully soaked through, wearing that goddamn lacy bra out there, Choso wasn’t as strong a man to possibly get you out of his mind. He can’t help but imagine your sultry smile, how it would look wrapped around his cock. 

Arm straining now, a shiver runs down his spine - all the way to his throbbing erection. “Shit.” he breathes, “J-jus’ like that, sweetheart.” 

Head only filled with you, and your lips and you-

He milks his base tighter - would you take him all in one go? Look up at him with those beautiful, teary eyes as you choke around his cock? 

One hand pulls in urgent, jerky little moves that have his hips bucking into his fist. The other reaches up muffle the fucked out moans leaving his swollen lips. God, it would take everything it had in him to not fuck up into your pretty lil’ mouth. Watch you cock-drunk and taking him so well. 

Or maybe…

Eyes rolling to the back of his head, Choso fights back a groan as he reaches a hand up to teasingly thumb under his slit. Delicate beads of precum dripping onto the cold tile with a deafening drip! drip! drip! Smearing at the way he rubs maddening little circles under that one spot, grazing his sensitive veins. 

Maybe you’d be a a fucking tease - run your tongue under his pulsing head so agonizingly slow. Knowing you, you’d probably pull away as soon as he bucks his hips into your mouth. Lips swollen and glossed prettily with his precum as you whisper, “Now now, baby. If you don’t act like a good boy then you won’t get to cum~”

“Sh-shit, hah-” Choso thinks he’s going insane, he can practically hear your hums as you kiss along his length, tongue darting out to trace his throbbing veins so obscenely. Flicking at his sensitive head. Eyes sparkling - ready to positively devour him. 

All for him. 

It’s too much. 

“Ah- Ngh, fuck.” he moans hoarsely, letting out a low, fucked-out little call of your name. “More. Need m-more, sweetheart.” 

Body shuddering violently, sweat dripping from his brow, Choso’s thighs quiver as he fucks his fist at an almost-animalistic pace. Chasing his release with reckless abandon. 

Choso’s heart pounds wildly in his chest as he tries - and fails - to maintain control. Raspy whines of your name escape through the crevices of his fingers, cracking ever-so-slightly in a way he knows he’d be embarrassed about if he was in a better state of mind. 

Giving up his futile attempt, long fingers snake down below to cradle his balls in a way he knows you’d do better. Tugging and pulling at a jerky rhythm that matches his hand. 

Some tiny, practical part of his brain hopes - prays - that you won’t call off the water fight early and come up to check on him. He knows he should hurry up, he knows he’s fucked if you ever found out. Shit, he should bake you apology cookies tomorrow.

But fuck are so you perfect for him. Voice so pretty and eyes so warm as you turn your gaze to his undeserving self. He’d kill to see if you still look at him that way when - if - he absolutely ruins you.

Would you be able to take all of him? Would you pout adorably until he shoves his dick down your throat? Gagging as he hits the back of your throat over and over - oh how Choso would love to mess up your mascara. He’d fucking tattoo your lipstick stains on his dick if he could. 

“Cum f’me, baby.” you’d mewl, and shit would he burn down this entire world to hear you call him that. “Mm, fill me up with your cum, wan’ taste you, baby-”

“Fuck,” he curses again, voice thick with need, and tight balls twitching so sensitively. “Fuck...fuck fuck fuck. M’gonna cum- shit- gonna cum, sweetheart.”

You - all see-through white shirts and lacy bras that drive him wild. Giggling with the audacity of someone who isn’t making him slowly lose his sanity. You with prettily lips painted white with his seed. Cum and saliva mixing into a lewd pool on the sterile tile as you suck the soul out of him. 

You. 

And then he’s cumming. 

A raw, drawled-out keen of your name and he’s spilling into his fist. Thick, hot spurts of cum that paint his palms white in a way he wishes he could do to you. And behind his closed eyes all he sees is you - you you you-

You, dragging out his orgasm so torturously, lips decorated with his seed, dribbling down to your lacy pink bra, gushing so lewdly down your ready throat. You with your eyes dazed, lips swollen and quirking up into a fucked-out smile as he does so well for you - cumming, all for you.

You, with your wide eyes and disgust on your face as you realize just what he’d been doing on this suspiciously long “bathroom break”.

Shit.

Body still twitching with the shockwaves of probably one of the Top 5 orgasms of his life, Choso all but collapses against the bathroom door, panting heavily, utterly spent. For a moment, he lies there, wondering if this is what heaven truly felt like.

But as the euphoria of his high ebbs away into nothing but mere tingles, a slight wave of nausea crashes over him. 

Sighing, Choso reaches for the paper towels, ready to clean up his mess. If only you were there to milk him dry then he wouldn’t have to-

…

God, he was definitely baking you apology cookies tomorrow. 

Now, when it started drizzling shortly after Choso left, you took it upon yourself to usher the kids back home and hand over his t-shirt personally like the good samaritan you are - out of the goodness of your heart, of course. 

Not for any reason whatsoever because you were hoping to get at least one more glimpse of those sinful nipple piercings up-close.

…

Okay, perhaps there was a slight ulterior motive involved. 

Either way, what you’d expected was for a flash of silver as you handed over his drenched t-shirt. Or maybe that familiar easy smile to warm you up from the icy water.

Literally anything but to find yourself frozen outside the bathroom door, cunt dripping, and ears ringing with the muffled echoes of his pornographic groans.

At first, completely mortified, your fight or flight instinct had kicked in as you realized just what those rhythmic, fucked-out little grunts meant. Only for you to choose neither option - staying rooted to your spot with the utterance of one, simple, word - your name.

Confusion whirls in your mind almost as much as the throbbing in your cunt, knees weakening. Heart thumping louder and louder in your ears at each whine of your name. Shivers running down your spine - all the way to your wet cunt as it really sets in that this was Choso. And he was fucking his fist in your bathroom. To you.

And you didn’t mind?

In fact, you find yourself leaning against the door, thighs squeezing together - mere inches away from where you imagined him slumped against it. Soft strands sticking to his forehead, cock hot and heavy, aching for release. Ragged breathing as if caught off guard by the intensity of his own pleasure. Broken whispers of your name leaving him over and over-

Really, you know you should give him your privacy. But if the white-hot ropes of pleasure running up your spine are anything to go by then, well, is it really that bad?

You have half the mind to just reach down down down - just a little release. Almost jealous of Choso-

Click!

You’re sure you could rival Usain Bolt with the way you ran down those stairs. Cheeks flaring, his damp t-shirt still clutched tightly in your hand. Mind racing with only one thought - this little fuck wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

---

You can barely remember what transpired after your little discovery. You couldn’t decide who looked more dazed - you or Yuji, who was being practically dragged out that front door as Choso exited hastily with vague mentions of baking and cookies

And in the ringing silence that followed after that front door slammed, you couldn’t help the smirk that found itself onto your face. This was going to be fun.

But if there’s anything you’ve learned about Choso - it’s that even after twenty-something years on planet Earth, that man can not take a hint.

You somewhat had an inkling after the fifth time you decided to sunbathe in just a skimpy bikini at exactly when you knew he’d be watching. Well, you might not have gotten any reaction other than an extremely flushed face at the window, but at least you knew he’d have more very fun bathroom breaks.

Hell, one time you even bought ice lollies for the whole house - but especially Choso. Making sure those dark eyes followed every lick and trail of it dripping down your fingers under the scorching summer sun. Ultimately resulting in nothing more but a heavy gulp and for his ice lolly to hit the grass faster than it could even begin to melt. 

Ugh, should you get your brother to start another water fight? That went down well last time. 

It’s only after another failed attempt at trying to get him alone and a few hours of deliberating whether you should ship your interrupting brother off on a cruise too that you realize you have to get out the big guns.

“The big guns” being stealthily organizing a sleepover for your brother at the Itadoris, then inviting Choso over for a movie night. Simple, right? And, well, if anyone asked, you could just say the movie just so happened to be rated R. 

It wasn’t too hard to convince your brother that a sleepover with Yuji would be the best thing since sliced bread. The excitement in his voice palpable as he agreed, not suspecting a thing.

You just didn’t think it would be even easier to convince Choso to come over with a simple playful text of “Netflix no chill. Haha jk…unless?” But then again, when has Choso not surprised you?

And that night, as your brother eagerly headed off to Yuji’s place, you couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of guilt - but, hey, it was for a good cause, right? 

It’s a win-win either way - your brother gets to spend the night with a friend and you get to be here, so achingly close to Choso on that couch. So close that you could feel the heat radiating off of him, stealing glances at his sharp profile as the conversation flows easily about the movie playing on screen.

Shifting ever-so-slightly closer, electricity crackling between you two was palpable. You smile in anticipation, after all - you weren’t lying about the movie being rated R.

Now, Choso certainly didn’t come over to your house tonight expecting a wholesome rerun of Cars 2. However, he also wasn’t expecting the blockbuster action movie to suddenly unfold into something so steamy.

Goddamn lecherous directors and their goddamn pervy movies.

Eyes firmly trained on the ground, instead of the actress currently fake-moaning dramatically onscreen, Choso tries to ignore the subtle shift of your hips or the way the temperature in the room has currently increased by about 10 degrees. Or the way your moans would sound a million times prettier in his ears.

Alas, Choso was not a strong man, and he especially tries to will away the blood rushing straight to his cock right now - but how could he? You were such a vision of temptation, so close and warm and close to him on the couch.

This was absolute torture. 

“God, this is so painfully fake. Don’t you think so?” your voice rips through the deafening silence between you two, tone careful and balanced, startling Choso out of his little reverie.

His eyes flicker hastily to meet yours, and for a moment, he seems caught off guard by your sudden interruption. “Oh, yeah.” voice rough with a hint of nervousness. “I’ve seen better performances in middle school plays.”

You nod, the tension between you thickening as you lock eyes. “I mean, who even writes this stuff?” you continue, leaning in even closer to Choso, words positively dripping in sarcasm. “It’s like they’ve never actually had sex before.”

Choso lets out a shaky laugh, the sound strained as he shifts subtly in his seat - but not subtly enough. Because you catch the way he desperately tries to adjust his now-uncomfortably tight pants. Success. 

“Yeah, exactly,” he clears his throat, ripping his gaze away from yours.

You study him for a moment under the dim lighting, noting the way his hands clench and unclench in his lap, the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he struggles to control his breathing. He was nervous. Nervous and horny - exactly where you wanted him. 

A sudden rush of adrenaline courses through your veins, and you lean even closer to the man. Not even a hair’s breadth between you two - you relish in his strangled gasp as your tits press so enticingly against his arm. 

“Choso, just a thought.” you hum casually, lips mere inches from his ear. “Wanna recreate the scene better?”

His breath hitches at your words, muscles rippling so deliciously beneath your touch. “Do you know what you’re saying?” he rumbles, lowly. Eyes darkened and unreadable.

You smile, heart pounding against your chest as your lips brush against his earlobe. “Absolutely.”

It was like something snapped.

Because then he’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him. Because goddammit you haven’t spent the last month sneaking glances at those pretty lips for nothing.

Movie completely forgotten, Choso is warm under your touch - all sculpted chest and urgent pulses as his lips kiss you dizzyingly. Groaning lowly as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer.

He breathes you in with an infectious desperation that bleeds into his hands, wandering every inch of your skin - as if he didn’t have enough time. And he probably didn’t. Distantly, Choso thinks that no time in the world would be enough to absolutely fucking wreck you the way he wanted to.

Large, hurried hands grope your chest, squeezing so teasingly in a way that almost made you think he was trying to feel out what bra you were wearing - lacy pink. His favorite, of course.

You minx.

Urgently tugging the hem of your tight shirt over your arms, Choso tosses it god-knows-where. Mouth watering as he pulls away to greedily take in the heavenly view of your heaving chest - the same one he’s shamelessly fucked his fist to for too long.

God, you were perfect. With a soft, little oh! Choso leans down to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses on every bit of exposed skin he could reach. Nipping, and tugging lightly. Relishing in the way you whine for his lips again.

Threading a hand through his soft hair, you lightly pull him back to you. Breath fanning his face, lips ghosting over his own.

“Kiss me, you fool.”

And, well, Choso didn’t have to be asked twice. Molding his mouth against yours once more. Letting your lips part, you intertwine your tongue so sinfully with his. He tastes just like he looks - so intoxicatingly delicious.

With a breathy sigh, he lightly taps the curve of your ass. Hands lingering for far longer than necessary, kneading the flesh in a way that has your skin searing. 

You get the signal. Urgently, you loop your legs around his waist. “Choso- bed.” you whisper, muffled in-between kisses. “Now.”

Shivers run down your spine at the way he chuckles darkly, “Honestly, sweetheart. I don’t even hah- know if we’ll make it there.” Mumbling against your lips, “Would you kill me if I take you right here right now?”

“I’ll kill you if you don’t fucking do something.” you hiss, words dripping in desperation. Ah, but Choso, ever the merciful man, shuts up whatever other retort on the tip of your tongue with his own. Kissing you with almost-bruising intensity as he gets up from his seat. Strong arms securely wrapped underneath you, holding you flush against his warm skin.

Choso doesn’t pull away even once as he hastily makes the route to your room. And honestly, with the speed at which your back hits the soft mattress, bouncing at the sheer force at which you two fell on top, you wouldn’t even be surprised if he teleported there.

Now safely in the confines of your room, you all but rip off Choso’s snug t-shirt. Those familiar obscene nipple piercings winking at you under the dim lighting in greeting. 

“Always wanted to do this.” you murmur, surging forward as if on autopilot. Lips latching delicately onto the pretty pink nipples, tasting the cold metal on your tongue. 

“Oh- oh, fuck. A-always knew you had a thing hah- f’my piercings, sweetheart.” Choso breathes out, letting you have your fun. His favorite bra now at the foot of your bed. Fingers deftly sneaking under your skirt, blood rushes straight to his cock as he feels the positively soaked state of your panties - if you could even call them that. 

Sanity snapping, he immediately flings off your skirt. Throwing it somewhere across the room with no care or concern for where it ends up. All so he could look down at oh-

Oh god, if you had to describe Choso’s face as he takes in the sight before him - it would be absolutely losing his sanity. Your pussy dripping and clenching around nothing - all for him.

Strings of slick trail down your thighs as Choso hooks one, long finger under your slutty g-string, tugging impatiently.

You keen as the cold air hits your dripping cunt. Yet Choso’s eyes stay locked hungrily on the sticky fabric intertwined around his fingers “Guess you were expecting this, huh?” he murmurs, voice thick with desire. 

Scoffing, you buck your hips up for something - anything. “I’ve been wanting to fuck you since that first night I hit on you, y’know,” you admit, the heady air of your room melting away any reservations you had previously. 

And that seems to snap Choso out of his trance - eyes flickering over to you, darkened with something so carnal that it makes your cunt throb. “Oh yeah?” he mumbles, swiftly stuffing the g-string in his pocket before leaning down, hot breath hitting your ear. “Now, what was that pick-up line you were gonna say that night?” 

You gasp in embarrassment, heat flooding to your cheeks at the memory. “Wha- that doesn’t matter. I was drunk and-”

Smack!

The delicious sting on your ass hits you before the realization that Choso smacked you. He smacked you. Even later do you realize that you like it - slick beading so obscenely at your sloppy hole.

“What was it, sweetheart?”

You shudder at the tone that leaves no room for argument. The words tumbling out of you as Choso caresses soothingly over the handprint on your ass. “I- it’s stupid. I was gonna say that I’m down to sit on your face, baby.”

“Thought so,” he grins, pulling away from the dizzying proximity. Shifting - well, more like manhandling - you to flip positions. 

God, you could almost sink into his muscles as he lays back on your bed. Voice low and dangerous as he utters words that go straight to your dripping pussy, “Now, sit on m’face.”

And before you know it, you find yourself hastily straddling Choso’s pretty face. Hands snaking down his milky abs, lips kissing along his tattoos, catching purposefully on his sensitive nipples. 

Warm breath fanning your quivering cunt, he reaches up to cup your ass, nudging your needy core to his mouth. Kneading. Groping. 

Not stopping his ministrations even when your slick oozes slowly, torturously through your swollen folds and onto his awaiting tongue. A maddening drip! drip! drip! ringing in your ears above your thundering heartbeat.

Choso groans at the mouthwatering sight above him. You - spread so shamefully open for him and clenching around nothing. 

“Luckily for you, sweetheart, wanted you to sit on m’face ever since I saw you.” sweet juices flowing down his throat, words muffled against your throbbing lips. 

He barely even gets the words out before he’s surging forward. Licking a long, languid stripe up your heated folds. Again. And again. Faster at the pretty moans that spill from your lips.

Pushing his tongue in between your slit, past that first, tight ring of muscle. Bullying it deeper and deeper. Chin pressing against your throbbing clit, ravaged at each movement of his face. 

He caresses your warm walls, relishing so filthily at the way you clamp down on him in surprise. “Hngh- oh shit, baby. Ah-”

Your sweet moans are music in his ears and shit - you called him “baby”. It’s as if every wet dream he’s ever had has come to life as Choso dips in and out at a ruthless pace. Pulling out to tease your dripping entrance, pushing past mercilessly into your plushy walls. In and out in and out in and out-

His cock strains so painfully against his pants at the way your sloppy hole sucks his tongue in so obscenely - almost as if it hurts to part. Tongue fucking you the way he wishes he could with his cock right now.

“Oh- Hah- Choso! Fuck, baby. S’good.” your body arches into his absolutely depraved tongue. 

Desperate whines spilling incessantly from your mouth at the way he quirks his tongue up just right to graze that spot he knew would have you grinding down on him for more. “Ah! Right there - jus’ like that!”

As if he knew exactly how to drive you wild. Exactly how to break you. You almost don’t notice the mindless, shallow little thrusts of his hips into your open palm. Almost.

Eyes snapping open at the tremors, you reach a hand across his quivering thighs. All the way down towards the very obvious dark patch on his pants - right where his furiously hard tip was leaking thick, relentless precum that made your mouth water. 

Oh, how you’d kill to taste him - see if the rest of him is as intoxicating as his mouth is.

So you do. 

Choso was so pussy-drunk in-between your thighs that you think he barely notices the way you fumble with his belt. Shakily pulling those pants down just enough to glimpse the rock-hard erection that those boxers do nothing to hide. 

“Shit,” you whisper, voice strained with need. 

You always imagined Choso had a big cock - but this was ridiculous. Your pussy clenches in both nervousness and anticipation as you imagined the delicious stretch of him splitting you apart on it. Breaking you. 

And that’s probably when Choso notices - you clamping down so filthily on his tongue. 

“Oh?” he rasps, voice sending white-hot vibrations of pleasure right up your spine. “Didn’t think you were so desperate for my cock, sweetheart. Gon’ make me cum, hm?”

Now, you’ve always thought of yourself as a woman of action rather than empty words. Which is probably why you urgently pull down his boxers. Choso’s painfully hard erection springs out, hitting his lower abs. 

You take a moment to admire the long, heavy cock in your hands - a deliciously pretty pink on top, furiously leaking glistening precum. Saliva pooling in your mouth - you shove it as far down your throat as you possibly could. 

Oh, how many times in his life has Choso imagined this moment right here. In the shower, right before bed, right after waking up too. You’re really a dream come to life. 

A startled, strangled moan of your name leaves Choso’s kiss-bitten lips as you take him all in one go. Only to pull back and spit once- twice on his throbbing cock. The steady stream of spit cool - followed so maddeningly by the warm heat of your mouth once more. You start up a torturous, filthy pace bobbing your head up and down on his cock.

He strains his head to catch a glimpse - even just one - of your nose pressed against his pelvis. Breathing in the heady scent at the tufts of hair at the bottom, already wet with precum and spit. His dirty girl. 

Popping off with a lewd squelch, “Feels good, baby?”

“Feels perfect.”

But he wasn’t gonna fall far behind.

Immediately attaching his lips with yours once more, Choso dives nose-deep in your dripping cunt. Rolling your throbbing clit in between his lips. Flicking his tongue along the sensitive bud in a way that makes your head feel so light. He alternates between a slow, languid torture on your clit and fucking into you unforgivingly.

Your movements stutter as you teasingly lick at his sensitive slit. The salty flavor of his precum is probably your favorite taste now. That bastard.

Reaching down, you cup his heavy balls, massaging the tender flesh in harsh, hasty circles that match your mouth down his length - up and down up and down up and-

Muffled moans and lewd squelching filling the heated room. A rhythmic, sinful cadence that both of you were losing your sanity to. Movements more frantic now. Desperate to make the other cum. Desperate to be first.

Letting out soft, raw grunts, Choso fucks up his throbbing erection into your mouth. Your eyes water as his tip abuses the back of your throat. And it makes you wish you could see how messy he looked right now. All smudged eyeliner and slick-glossed lips. 

Gagging around him, a mixture of drool and precum drips sinfully down the corner of your mouth as you increase your pace, pooling messily on his lower abs. Sloppy - so sloppy.

So it only made sense that your orgasms were the same. 

Pleasure dizzyingly overwhelming, you gush around Choso’s mouth with a stifled squeal. Stars behind your eyes, vision blurring, mind blanking - the only things you register being the languid tongue lapping up at your sweet juices and the guttural groan of what sounds like your name as Choso shoots thick, hot spurts of his cum down your throat. 

Throat burning as the salty taste fills your senses, you milk his cock for more more more- his dick pulsing and stuttering in your mouth. Cum staining the fresh sheets below - a problem for later. 

Right now all you were focused on was riding out your high, grinding almost animalistically on Choso’s pretty face. 

You’ve barely removed yourself from him with a lewd pop! before Choso’s wrestling you back onto the mattress. Two fingers squishing your cheeks into an embarrassing pout, cold rings digging into your skin. The other hand snaking in between your thighs to play with your still-twitching cunt. 

“Didn’t say we were done yet, sweetheart.” he mutters. You weren’t done - no, far from it. Because fuck a refractory period - both of you were going to take all you could get.

And before you can think of anything else, Choso is leaning down, hand prying your lips apart for him into a brutal kiss. Teeth clashing, lips bruising. He forces his tongue down your throat. Tasting himself before you barely get a chance to taste him as well. 

“Hah- fuck-” you flinch as he swears into your bruised lips. “So fuckin’ sweet. You taste so good sweetheart.” The sheer debauchery and ache of his cock too much for him. 

Tasting him. Tasting you. Both a heady flavor that leaves you yearning for more. 

You bite down on his bottom lip in retaliation, relishing in the drawn-out groan that rumbles into your mouth at this. The kiss is feral. It’s animalistic. It leaves you feeling so fucking dirty. 

And you barely recognise the dazed, predatory glint in Choso’s eyes as he pulls away, his mind clearly miles away as he spits once. Twice. Three times on your face.

The wads of saliva and cum hit your face with a warm, wet jolt. You whine at the way it seeps into your skin, dripping down your cheeks so fucking obscenely. Pooling at the sheets below in a way that makes you feel sorry for whoever had a shift at the laundromat tomorrow.

“Now, what do we say, sweetheart?”

A fucked-out, delirious smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you realize - yeah, you wouldn’t have it any other way. “Thank you.”

Not even when Choso lets out a dark chuckle, throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders and manhandling you so that you’re splayed out so shamefully for him. Dripping cunt spread for his greedy gaze and clenching around nothing - aching for him. Begging for him.

Not even when he lines up his still-rock hard cock at your entrance, tip - angry and red - weeping so desperately as he nudges at your sloppy hole. Dragging his head along your folds collecting every bead of slick, just grazing your pulsing clit. Every muscle in your body trembling and anticipating what was to come.

You mewl at the stretch as he presses in - deliciously painful, boderling insane, and exactly what you wanted right now. Splitting you apart on his throbbing cock. 

And especially not when he bottoms out inside you in one, harsh thrust. Burying himself inside your sloppy walls till his twitching balls smack against your ass. 

“Ah- hngh- oh fuckkk.” you keen in both pain and pleasure - broken, raw moans leaving you uncontrollably. But not for long, because suddenly Choso’s shoving two ringed fingers in your mouth, bullying their way inside till you’re gagging and moaning around them. 

Pressing right at that spot on the back of your tongue that makes your eyes tear up so prettily. Hey, if he couldn’t see you choking on his cock properly, the least he could do is see you choking on his fingers, right?

“Now now, wouldn’t want anyone else to hear, hm? Our brother’s would get worried.” he chuckles. Pure, dark amusement in his eyes as he takes in your swollen lips, the teartracks down your cheeks, how utterly beautiful and debauched you look underneath him. So much better than any lust-hazed imagination of his.

And yet, even when you’re being gagged and split apart on his cock, you find it in yourself to be mouthy. Words muffled around his thick fingers as you raise a brow. “There’s no one else home, though?.”

The corners of Choso’s lips lift into a devilish grin, “The neighbors, sweetheart.”

His tone is teasing, but there’s an undercurrent of seriousness that sends a chill down your spine. He’s just joking, right? Right?

“Wha-”

And probably because he was losing his patience - and partly to shut you up - Choso begins to move.

Pushing past the resistance, beginning to fuck into you in shallow, uncontrollable movements of his hips. Just little motions to get him off, groaning at how sinfully tight you were - the way you were sucking him up so good.

Next time, Choso thinks, reaching down a hand to draw tight, little circles on your poor, abused clit - next time he’ll fuck you right. Hours upon hours of teasing you so you don’t know what it feels like when you’re empty without him. 

But fuck does he think he could just about pass out right now.

There’s no going back now. Choso fucks you in a way that makes you feel so deliciously filthy. Plunging into your heated cunt with no restraint. Thrusts positively savage.

Pulling all the way back so that his leaking tip just barely kisses your sloppy entrance, slamming down down down, Choso fucks you at a merciless pace. Relishing the delicious stretch of your cunt as he thrusts into you with a desperation that surpasses the need for reason. 

“Sh-shit, sweetheart. God, s’tight. better than I ever could’ve imagined.” he moans breathlessly, brows furrowing, eyes rolling to the back of his head, the feeling of you milking the absolute soul out of him just too much.

“Oh, yeah- wanted this for so long-”

You yelp every time he rams his cock into you, the smacking of his toned pelvis against your thighs stinging almost as deliciously as his tip kissing your cervix. The obscene slapping of skin on skin makes your cheeks burn - both pairs as his heavy balls smack against your ass each time he shoves his throbbing cock into you.

And because you can’t leave him alone, of course, you find your nails digging harshly into his muscled shoulders. 

Pulling him impossibly closer. You want more. You need more. 

Maybe you say those words out loud - you don’t even know anymore, too delirious and cock-drunk from Choso and your last orgasm and Choso - because his eyes widen ever-so-slightly, mouth falling open into a small oh. Your cunt twitches at the surprised, fucked-out little laugh that leaves him,  “More? My sweetheart wants more?”

And, as you’ve come to learn with Choso - anything you want, you will get. 

“Then fucking- take it.” he grunts lowly, each word punctuated by a harsh thrust of into your plush walls that sends both of you spiraling deeper and deeper into insanity.

And God does he make you take it. Every inch of him fills you, stretching you beyond your limits - both your cunt and your senses as he leans down to bury his head into your neck, hips moving so sloppily, hiking your leg further up his shoulder. The change in angle making you see stars.

Your hips buck up in tandem with his, uncontrollable little ah! ah! ah! leaving you at each thrust. You whimper in pleasure and overstimulation into the heady room, “Yes. Yes yes yes- wan’ cum. Need more. Need you-”

“Fuck- Hngh-” is all he manages to gasp out, pleasure overwhelming his sensitive cock. Choso’s balls twitch almost painfully as they keep smacking your ass. Brain still not keeping up with his body because shit, this is all he’s wanted for years, the least he could do is make you cum before him.

“Sh-shit, sweetheart.” he rasps into your heated skin, “So close- m’ so close.”

You all but sob at his words, “M’too- hngh- ah, m’gonna cum, baby.”

You didn’t expect the petname to be what breaks him, but then again you didn’t think there was anything more left to break. Because Choso groans gutturally, cock twitching inside you “Shit, you’re driving m’crazy, y’know that?”

“I know.” you mewl, voice breaking at the way he increases his frenzied pace on your clit. You could barely even call them circles, just filthy little movements to get you closer and closer to the edge. So close. You writhe beneath him, desperate for release.

And what you didn’t expect was for Choso to connect his sweaty forehead with yours. You take a second to admire just how beautiful he is - all smudged eyeliner, tousled hair, your release still shining on the lower half of his face, and yours. All yours. You could probably stare at the sight forever.

Choso’s hot breath fans your face as he moans breathlessly against your lips, words slurring together as he ruts into you mindlessly, “Always did, y’know?”

“I know.”

“No- y’don’t hah- understand, I- for so long fuck- I-”

“Choso, just kiss me.”

And then you’re kissing him. And he’s kissing you like you’re the most precious thing on Earth. A slow, tender little dance that doesn’t match the way he rams his cock inside you. 

And then you’re cumming. Stars behind your eyes - or maybe those were tears - clamping down desperately on the harsh, jerky movements of his glistening cock that fuck you so sinfully like his little slut. 

White-hot pleasure runs down your spine, or maybe that was Choso - painting your insides the prettiest white you’ve ever seen. Shooting thick, hot ropes of his seed into your waiting pussy. A creamy ring forming around his base as he spills his cum into your snug cunt as he moans against your lips.

It’s messy. It’s sloppy. And as Choso fills you to the brim, hips still unforgiving, seed dribbling out of your dripping pussy at the way it was so overfilled - you think that it’s all you could ever want. 

As his cock twitches finally, exhaustedly - and you distantly wonder how the fuck it isn’t seizing up - Choso collapses onto you, thoroughly fucked-out. Finally pulling out with an obscene squelch, you hiss lowly at the pool of cum that forms beneath you. Gushing out of you sinfully. 

A weighty silence in the air as you both try to catch your breaths.

In the haze of your orgasm you realize that even after all that transpired, he still isn’t laying his full bodyweight on you.

Too afraid to break you.

To break whatever this tender little understanding in the air was.

And it makes some part of your heart clench so delightfully. Subconsciously, you thread a hand through his damp hair, breathing in that familiar smell of vanilla and sunshine - and the heady scent of something so Choso. It makes you intertwine your body so impossibly close with his, not knowing where one of you ends and the other starts.

“My parents are coming home tomorrow.” you start, casually. 

“Mhm. But I’ll still be around here, sweetheart.” Choso rumbles into the crook of your neck. Kissing soothingly over the marks he’d made in the heat of the moment - some carnal little part of him proud of the way you looked like you were fucking thrown to a pack of wolves. 

Words hiding a tense little fear beneath them as you probe further. Something prickly and scared rolling around in your stomach. “For babysitting?”

“Nope.”

Settling deeper into the covers, basking in the afterglow of him. You know you should get up and clean, but right now this was all you wanted. And maybe no other words were needed. 

“God, am I glad your parents aren’t home.” 

Except maybe those. 

You chuckle as you pull back to stare into those deep, dark eyes. Cheeks flaring at the tender little warmth in them much more than they had when he was fucking you so sinfully. A devious idea coming to mind - because now that you got a taste, you were absolutely hooked.

Choso Kamo was absolutely intoxicating.

“Well, we still have time so how about-”

A distant click!

“Honey, we’re home~!”

Shit.

A/N. Fun fact this was originally supposed to be called Timeout! but it was giving too much me during beep test.

Plagiarism not authorized.