last part of virgin!Choso<3 (im gonna write more for him tho, just in other scenarios!!) other parts here: part 1 part 2 part 4
.⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅.
Virgin Choso who stands on his small balcony, looking over the city, a grey cloud creeping out between his lips.
Choso had taken up smoking. He’d asked Leiri about it when he’d seen her doing it, and she’d told him it helped her to relax. he’d bought a pack right after that. The first couple of times he’d coughed the smoke out. But now he does it smoothly, inhaling and exhaling the smoke with no problem. It makes him feel at ease even just for a moment, and lord knows he needs it right now. Humans are fucking weird he thinks, they’d jepordize their health for a little break from their troubles. Guess that doesnt sound so ridiculous now that he thinks about it. Either way hes a human now too, or a half one atleast.
he squeezes the cigarette into an ashtray and looks at the time when he hears the door bell ringing. Its late and you’re here.
he hears you running up the stairs, and when you get to the top you run to him, giving him a soft hug. His heart keens.
“hi Choso!” you smile and let go of him, he immediately misses the feel of you, “hey,” he mumbles.
“why do you smell like cigerattes?” you huff and your nose crickles. cute.
he raises his shoulders.
“i cant believe it…who taught u to do that huh?” you make a disappointed face and fold your arms, tapping your foot on the floor. And he knows youre just joking, you and Yuji have been using enough sarcasm around him for him to have a pretty good understanding of it.
“Leiri,” he shrugs.
“of course…that hag,” you grin. And you look so fucking adorable, in your little outfit, and the way you look when you smile makes him weak. He has your bag ready on the couch, he had washed your panties before putting everything back into it. But he can’t think about that now, or he’ll turn bright red.
he sighs “i made dinner,” he says, “if you’re hungry,” you stop infront of him and you almost look like youre gonna cry from happiness. “im starving,” you say quickly, “what did you make?”
He’d made rice bowls for you. your favourite. And you eat like a girl who’d gotten her first meal in months. Happily humming while eating your food.
Rather than focusing on eating his own bowl, he thinks about eating every meal of the day with you, sitting across from him.
when you’re done you put your plate in the sink and you yawn, you look adorable when you yawn, you look adorable when you do anything.
you turn around, “Choso?”
his heart skips a beat. he nods.
“it’s really late and um…dark outside and i don’t really want to walk home alone,” you look away, are you….blushing?
“is it okay if i stay here for the night?”
And hes heard the stories. About what happens to pretty girls when they’re alone at night and they don’t see the stranger walking behind them. And his fist clenches at the thought of someone being mean to you. He’s stronger than any human. he’d crush their fucking skull.
“you can stay,” he says quickly, a little too eagerly he realises. And you smile, “give me your plate,” you say, looking greatful that he let you stay, unknowing of the fact that he’d do just about anything if it meant your safety, or your happiness.
You start washing the dishes in his tiny kitchen, and when Choso tries insisting that he wants to help, you splash a bit of water on him. And you laugh so sweetly, when he jumps a little, trying not to get hit.
When youre done washing up, You both stand in silence for a while. For some reason its not as akward as it sounds.
“i will sleep on the couch,” he says,
“no Choso…id feel bad, you sleep in your bed,” you mumble.
You both argue like that for a while, and youre not letting up. stubborn little human.
you both get quiet for a moment.
“how big is your bed?”
“Queen size,”
“so why dont we just…sleep in it together?”
youre blushing slightly again. it must be his imagination.
And then he thinks about it. Friends sleep in the same bed sometimes right? you dont mean anything by it, he thinks, its just you being polite.
“i guess…we could do that yes,” he agrees.
you smile and nod, “okay,”
Choso excuses himself to go to the bathroom then, telling you to go ahead and get ready for bed.
He looks at himself in the mirror. He takes out his buns, his hair falling down to his shoulders. His eyes are dark and sunken. He looks dead he thinks. He looks down, “behave,” he says quietly, mostly to his heart, but also his dick.
he buries his head in his hands And He realizes he cant, he realizes the second he’s gonna look at you in his bed, he won’t be able to stop himself. to stop himself from confessing everything he feels, everything he’s done. that he thinks about you all the time, that you drive him insane, that he stole your pretty panties and came in his hand from the smell of your wet cunt.
When he rounds the corner of his bedroom, you’re sitting patiently on the edge of his bed, waiting for him.
“i am going to sleep on the couch, i don’t think this is a good idea,” he says it quickly, before he changes his mind, before its too late to go back.
you open your mouth to speak, hesitating a little.
“is it because of what yuji told me?”
his brain goes quiet. “what?”
“that you…that you like me?”
fuck. its over. he sighs angrily. that little fucki-
you stand and walk to him.
and when you put your hand on his chest, for a moment he forgets why hes mad, he forgets who he is and what year hes in. all he sees is you. And how close you are all of a sudden. and how youre leaning in, standing on your tippy toes, pressing your soft lips to his, in a short gentle kiss. His world stops for a moment.
And when he regains his senses, his instincts take over and he kisses you back ferociously, it’s sloppy and uncoordinated, but neither of you seem to care.
You walk backwards onto his bed, and you push him down so he’s sitting on the edge. He looks at you like a puppy dog, and his cheeks are flushed red.
When you sit down in his lap his dick twitches in his pants.
“i- i didnt think you…,” he stutters. he doesn’t really believe what’s happening.
“well i do,” you say, while cupping his face in your hands. “a lot,”
“can i…” he needs it he needs it he needs it, “can i eat your pussy?” he mumbles it quietly.
your eyes widen. fuck, he shouldn’t have said that, it was way too fast, you were just kissing.
“oh…uh okay,”
fuck. yes.
he lifts you up from his lap, and you skriek a little from surprise. He puts you down in a chair in the corner of his bedroom.
he gets on his knees infront of you and speaks quietly,
“i…im sorry i,” he sniffles a little, he’s so overwhelmed. And you’re letting him taste you.
you lean down and give him a kiss, biting your lip slightly.
“its okay…we can talk later, if you need it i’ll give it to you okay?”
And fuck he almost cries, and he buries his face in your lap. You shush him a little, caressing his hair. Hes hugging your legs.
He lifts his head, and you start unbuttoning your pants. Slowly sliding them down your hips as they fall to the floor. You spread your legs and he whimpers. Your panties are pink this time, and theres a big wet spot on them. And he doesn’t spare a second, he dives his head into your cunt, rubbing his face in it and licking at the wet spot desperately. you moan his name softly, and he cant help but grind his hard cock against the leg of the chair. Hes pathetic but he doesnt care, he wants you to feel good, he wants to make you cum on his face. He groans into your weeping pussy as he thinks about you cumming for him.
He pulls away a little, silently begging you to remove your panties. He wants to see your pussy so bad. His pussy.
You slide down your panties to reveal your soaked cunt. Choso almost growls. He looks up at you, asking for permission to keep going. you nod, your eyes half lidded. Spoiled little princess, he thinks, and thats exactly how hes going to treat you from now on.
he leans in again, kissing your pussy and it makes a wet sound. He licks his lips and groans deeply at your taste. He starts lapping at your cunt like a dehydrated puppy. He’s making out with your pussy now, swiping his tongue all over. You can tell he’s inexperienced, but it doesn’t matter, he’s doing such a good job.
you feel so good, his tongue is too much, its all too much. You love him so much. And you cum unexpectedly, crying out his name, begging him to keep going and he whines. You thrash around and Choso keeps you steady, his strong hands grasping your hips.
After youre done he keeps licking up your cum, making sure youre cleaned.
“Choso…stop, too much,” you say softly.
He pulls away.
His face is covered in your juices, dripping all the way down his neck. And he looks so happy. He stands up, like its on instinct. He needs to hold you.
He grabs you into his arms and plop down onto the bed, with you on his chest. He squeezes you into him, kissing your hair while you slide your panties on again.
“mine,” he says softly. youre his now.
You look up at him, searching his eyes, “Choso i wanna um…you know,” you gesture to his crotch. you want to make him feel good too.
but he looks away shyly. its embarrassing and pathetic, “i um..,” he sits up with you in his lap.
He doesnt feel hard under you anymore. And then it clicks.
“oh my god did you…”
he blushes furiously and nods, “its embarrassing,” he had cum in his pants the second he put his face in your bare pussy.
“no! no…it’s really…hot,” you reason and he looks less embarrassed. He looks into your eyes then, looks at your pretty little face and he already knows he wants you to be his forever.
“do you want to be my girlfriend?” he asks nervously.
you giggle and nod eagerly, jumping on him, wrapping your arms around him and nuzzling into his neck.
hes the luckiest man in the world he thinks. And you both fall asleep, you laying on his chest.
.⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅.
guys they didn’t actually fuck and i’m SORRY
now….part 4?? hey!!! HEY OKAY IM SORRY!! comment if yall want more ill do a lil short one where buddy ACTUALLY looses his virginity.
taglist:
@iqzo @multy-fandom-lover
6K notes
·
View notes
🫐 - jake! maybe about reader having some hardships during her pregnancy but baby daddy jake would be ready to do anything for her comfort !!
rejecting his kisses | sjy
pairing: husband!jake x wife!reader
genre: fluff bro what else i write 😭😭
synopsis: reader is growing sensitive day by day to touches and snaps at jake, jake being a mature husband handles the situation well.
everything felt so much more overwhelming, jake kept a family dinner and everyone was over, his members and his family.
“how are my babies doing?” jake said as he nuzzled his nose in your neck as you moved back in annoyance.
oh he noticed it but shrugged it off, maybe it was just a silly reaction right?
the sound of everyone talking at the same time in their own conversation rings around in your ears making it hard for you to keep up with everything jake had his hands on you the whole day, hugging you from behind, talking to his friends and family with a hand on your bump, rubbing your nose agaisnt his, kissing your cheeks, lips and forehead. yeah sounds cute but not when you’re feeling everything a little too much.
what is going on.
it was so bad that you had to shut your room door so loud and settle on the bed,
there you were, pregnant and finally on your thrid trimester with your annoying husband being extra touchy anywhere he could find you at.
rubbing your temples you sat on the bed, grabbed the water from the beside table and starting chugging it down.
meanwhile, jake who already spotted your absensce in the living room came in “bub?” you heard his voice and your brain gave a reaction not again.
he walks in as you don’t even dare to look at him in the eye, your eyes closed as you take deep breath.
“did i do something” he leans over to your face while staring deep “no..” u say as he hums in question he sits beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder “are you oka-“ you cut him off,
“no- just no- please okay? please just get your hands off of me please jake. stay away from me i am not feeling all your touches just leave me the fuck alone.” you say raising your voice.
the next thing you see is tears in jake’s eyes as he looks away from you trying to hold them in.
“i am sorry.”
a moment of complete silence goes by as you rest your head on the headboard.
you notice him avoiding your looks and turning to the other side, hesitant to ask you if you need anything again.
“did i do something wrong?” he asks out of curiosity “i won’t touch you if—“
“no i dont know.. i am sorry i dont feel like getting touched i dont know.. i don’t know why i am being like this i don’t know” as you’re saying he turns around and comes closer to you.
attentively listening as he brings a hand to tug your hair strand back.
“hey no no it’s fine, its completely fine yeah, this is super normal for pregnant women to feel..” he says as tears start spilling from your eyes because of how understanding he is.
jake has always put your perspective before his, always understanding everything you did, always finding a reason for your actions and letting you express yourself, god you think what did you do to deserve him.
“b-but jake” you say as he holds your face in his hands and squishes your cheeks trying to calm you down.
“at this stage you’ve grown more sensitive. to touches to words to noises to everything” he says bringing his hands back to himself, “isn’t it?”
you nod in agreement as he adds “so don’t ever blame yourself about all this okay? i love you just how it is. nothing will ever change that”
you look at him and take his hand and place it on your belly, he makes sure to keep it exactly where you kept and not rub it because of muscle memory
he pauses and lets out a little laugh as he feels the baby kicking where his arm is placed “just try not to be as aggressive as you were okay?” you nod once again as he kisses your cheeks wiping your tears off his lips.
“baby doesn’t like hearing mum and dad argue does it?” he says as he feels another kick to his palm as you both laugh out of surprise.
it makes you giggle, mood swings are crazy.
499 notes
·
View notes
💬 suffering-academy-student Follow
does anyone else wish u could regenerate but not change and not use up a regeneration. just like do a hard reboot
#i'm gonna call myself The Sufferer
---
💫 constellationon-kasterborous Follow
what is it even like to not be a time lord do you like get impaled by rebar at 45 years old and just die. couldn't be me
---
🚀 silvertraveller Follow
_____👶 timelordtoddler Follow
_____playing with a roentgen radioactive brick in the nursery rn
---
🔉 gallifreyballifreyshmallifrey Follow
i love this website because its the only place you can say you have interfered with the natural flow of time and you won't get investigated by the CIA
---
😉 winkles-wonderland Follow
who up lording they time
#no I don’t need to add any extra tags thanks I trust my audience will find it
---
👦 theresponsibilityavoider Follow
I was skipping school hanging out in a clearing and some guy exited a portal from a CONFESSION DIAL 😭 and he was like “Go to the city. Find someone important. Tell them I’m back. Tell them, they know what they did. And I’m on my way. And if they ask you who I am, tell them ‘I came the long way round’” 😭😭😭 what the hell
---
💬 oneofthegreathouse Follow
if you have a fetish for people being born through bodily reproductive systems KEEP IT TO YOURSELF!!!! nobody needs to see that on their dash
__♻️ callmeweaver Follow
__Ok Puriteen you need to get on my level. sexualize looms OR ELSE!!!!!
---
💫 thecurator Follow
the high council of gallifrey: got some straight gas 🔥😛 this strain is called “the timeless child” 😳 you’ll be zonked out of your gourd 💯
Me: yeah whatever. I don’t feel shit.
5 minutes later: dude I swear I just saw some pre-Hartnell doctors
My buddy the Master pacing: the Time Lords are lying to us
---
🏠 somegrandolgallifrey Follow
I heard some kid crying himself to sleep in a cabin. COULD not be me
---
♾️ thatacademygraduate Follow
Went to a museum today! I saw a lot of really cool stuff but something I couldn’t stop thinking about was this horrifically busted up Type 40 TARDIS that literally looked like it was held together with duct tape, chewed gum and prayers 😵💫😵💫 girl kill that thing I’m so sorry….
#i think it was even still alive. please put it out of its misery for the love of rassilon
---
🥽 howsitgoinghowitgoes Follow
Bruh my best friend and I tried to play a prank on my brother but it went wrong and he hit his head so badly he REGENERATED i need to go into hiding
---
😐 the-hybrid Follow
Who am I
#please for the love of god help me
---
🔹 thetasigma Follow
Koschei and I skipped school today and went stargazing. We agreed to visit every single one together when we leave this stupid planet. I love them so much. We're going to be together forever.
----
💭 siblingofkarn Follow
Why do I keep having nightmares about Gallifrey being destroyed in like 5 different ways, that could literally never happen
---
🤖 pompousandstuffy Follow
I literally hate children soooo much like today some ninety year old tried to speak to me. KILL YOURSELF THIRTEEN TIMES ‼️
---
👽 cheapandnastytraveltime Follow
For a Time Lord I have such a bad sense of time. if chamelon arches were real i would make myself literally any other species
---
😍 starstartwinkletwinkle Follow
I have to stare into the untempered schism tomorrow. Any advice?
1K notes
·
View notes
Midnight Muse
Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]
Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 1,804
Notes: This is going to be a good one you guys 💙 (yes I know I have a fic titled this already but it’s too good not to reuse, they’re not related btw)
_________________________________________
“I think that’s the last one,” you sigh, setting down a cardboard box labeled Living Room on the stack in the middle of the floor. It’s not heavy—filled with decorative pillows for the cheap futon couch shoved haphazardly against the wall—but the tower of boxes sways precariously and your roommate, Feyre, darts forward to reorganize them from before they all go tumbling down.
You and your roommate had been very organized at the start of your move, putting boxes into piles for which rooms they belonged to, but as the hot sun beamed down and the temperature outside rose, so did your tempers. The process ended with trying to get everything into your new fourth floor apartment as quickly as possible, which was a nearly impossible feat, due to the slow moving elevator.
Feyre sighs, hands on her hips as she surveys the mess of boxes. Neither of you packed lightly—a mistake you’d made the year previous too, and promised not to make again—the both of you refused to hire a moving service, intent on the fact that you could do all the heavy lifting yourselves.
That definitely had been a mistake.
Panting a little, Feyre shoves the strands of gold-brown hairs clinging to her forehead away, sticky with sweat. The hairs at her nape curl away from her neck, and you’re so glad that she grew out those awful bangs over the summer. Now you don’t have to listen to her complain about how they’d be plastered to her head with sweat. The loose collar of her cropped shirt is damp, and she uses the hem to wipe at the perspiration beading at her hairline. “Fucking finally,” she moans, “I need a drink.”
“Alcoholic or energy?” you tease, but it’s not funny. You’re drained, and all you want to do is collapse on the navy futon that barely fits two, no matter how uncomfortable it is. But you’re hot, clothes irritating your skin from where they’re glued with sweat and your arms and legs burn with effort. A cold shower, tall glass of something icy, and a few hours napping will do you well. A grimace works its way onto your red face, “Tell me there’s air conditioning in this place.”
“Already on,” Feyre sighs, stalking into the kitchen. You follow after her, dodging boxes, and watch as she rips open the refrigerator door and shoves her head inside. It’s completely empty and you wince, knowing that it’s going to be a long weekend while you go shopping and unpack everything before the fall semester starts in a week.
You want to stop by the local art supply too, to gather the last of the material you need for your classes this year. It’s probably why you and Feyre have so many boxes; half of the ones adorning your apartment are stuffed with art supplies: brushes and paints of all varieties from oils to acrylics, graphite pencils and kneaded erasers, canvases both blank and filled. You swear there’s even an entire box dedicated to sketchbooks filled with random doodles and scribbled ideas for assignments that never turned into anything great. Feyre hadn’t been happy when she’d seen you’d left that box for her to carry up.
When Feyre’s had her fill of the crisp air, she hands you a bottle of water from the freezer. It’s nowhere near as cold as you’d like it yet. You’d run into the gas station to get a few bottles and candy bars while she filled up the tank of the U-Haul for your last stretch or the drive. It hadn’t occurred to either of you to grab something with more sustenance until this very moment.
“Ugh,” you groan, choking down the room-temperature water. It helps a little to soothe your parched throat, but nowhere near enough. “Do you have any money left in your account? We should Door Dash something for dinner, and call it an early night.”
“An early night?” Feyre retorts, making a face as she takes a sip of her own water. “We have a lot of unpacking to do. And our beds aren’t even set up yet.”
“Fuck us,” you sigh, leaning against the marble. The stone is cool where it seeps through your thin shirt, and you ache to rip off your clothing and press your burning skin to it in an attempt to cool yourself off. “Let’s just find the boxes with the pillows and blankets and sleep in the living room, Fey. C’mon, it’ll be like when we were young again! Except now we’re old enough to buy alcohol.” You waggle your eyebrows at your roommate and she cracks a wry grin. “Well, almost old enough, but those fake ID’s Tarquin got us work like a charm anyway.”
“Fine,” Feyre relents, “Dibs on first shower, though.”
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•
While Feyre uses all of the hot water, despite it being nearly ninety degrees outside—blasphemous for the end of August in the middle of Southern California—you take the chance to move the U-Haul from where you’d double-parked it outside of your new apartment building. Thankfully, you and Feyre had saved up enough money from working at an Art Camp for children this summer to have both of your cars shipped to school. It was cheaper to rent a truck and move all of your belongings yourselves than to drive down and let a moving company do it, plus, you and Feyre had wanted to road trip this summer but didn’t have the funds. You both had decided there was no better time for it—until you could properly afford one—than this.
You scroll aimlessly through your social media on the way down, the elevator so slow and creaky that you and Feyre opted to take the stairs for most of your journey. Bigger things like your beds, the futon, and the tv had been squashed into the tiny elevator and taken up with prayers it wouldn’t break down. You can’t help but glance up at the certificate that says the elevator is in running order until its next inspection in two years.
“Is that forged, George Brown?” you mutter, squinting at the paper displayed in the corner. It’s frayed at the edges and yellowing, so you’re not all that sure this elevator has been inspected when it says it has.
It comes to a jerky halt that makes you sway when it hits the lobby. It’s as nice a building as you can afford on your budget, but the both of you will have to find part-time jobs as soon as school starts up, so that you have money to buy alcohol and food and supplies. Feyre’s older sister, Nesta, had lived here with her friends Gwyn and Emerie during their undergrad years, but they’ve moved on from shitty apartment buildings riddled with horny college students to renting a quaint house in town while working on their masters degrees.
When the doors to the elevator slide open you slip out as fast as possible, a shudder working its way up your spine. You wonder how many times it’s broken down, and you’d hate to be in there alone if something like that happened. Maybe you’ll take the stairs from now on unless you’re with someone.
The lobby of the building is small. There’s a front desk in which no one ever sits, as if the building used to be sophisticated once upon a time and a doorman used to occupy the space. Mailboxes pinned to the wall line the area behind the counter, and there sits a garbage can stuffed full with envelopes and more likely than not empty bottles of alcohol and take-away, maybe even a used condom or two.
It’s muggy down here, more so than your apartment that the landlord hadn’t turned on the air conditioning when he knew you’d be showing up today. Whatever, you hadn’t had to see the greasy man, he’d left the keys on the counter for you and Feyre to find when you’d arrived, and you were more than thankful for that.
You brush away some of the hairs that have come loose from your ponytail as you cross the lobby. The hazards of the U-Haul are blinking at a steady rate, the skies turning darker with the looming night. It had taken you and Feyre all day to unpack the truck, and you’re returning it tomorrow when your cars come in, so you need to move it to a normal spot for the night.
Pushing open the door, your steps falter as someone brushes past you like a shadow, nearly hitting your shoulder with theirs. Your brows furrow and you turn to toss a comment about how rude they are but the words dry up in your throat.
He’s tugging off a motorcycle helmet and you can’t help but watch the way his biceps bulge against his skin tight black t-shirt. The muscles of his broad back glide like butter beneath the fabric as he moves and you can’t help but let your gaze travel down his spine to his tight waist, dipping into dark jeans.
His thick soled boots thump loudly as he stalks through the door, stopping at the mailboxes to check if he has any letters. The tiny door opens with a squeak that has you snapping back into your body, stunned by his musculature. This man is a god of his own league. A masterpiece of perfectly crafted body parts and tones. He has an angular nose and long, dark lashes matching his disheveled hair. He runs his fingers through it and shoves the helmet under his armpit as he digs through his mailbox. Your fingers twitch to dig out your sketchbook and pencils from the box upstairs.
You force your gaze outside again, cheeks red hot with embarrassment. You were straight up ogling the man, and thankfully you’re not drooling, as you take notice while you wet your suddenly dry lips.
You click the keys, unlocking the U-Haul, but stop short when you see that the truck is caged in, a big vintage Bronco parked behind, and a shiny motorcycle that looks like it moves faster than the speed of light wedged between the moving truck and the vehicle in front.
“Hey,” you call, ripping the door back open to the lobby. You have no doubt that the motorcycle is his, and the car behind had been there when you and Feyre had arrived this afternoon, so you don’t know whom it belongs to. “Is this your motorcycle?”
The man is already on his way to the elevator, phone stable in his leather riding gloves as he swipes, envelopes tucked into his helmet. The elevator door screeches open and he doesn’t even bother to turn around and meet your gaze as he punches the button to his floor. “Nope.”
1K notes
·
View notes