Saw you wrote for Miu Miu so I thought I'd shoot my shot with my wonderful pink wife, Carne. General slice-of life headcanons for a nonspeaking Carne and equally nonspeaking reader(read: Nonspeaking, so sign language and alternative communication is fine, just no *talking), sharing an apartment? Reader doesn't have to be involved with Passione but maybe they're a criminal too, it's up to you.
{¬ºཀ°}¬ ˚.🦴 ᵎᵎ Carne x Gen Reader - Living Together HCs {¬ºཀ°}¬˚.🦴 ᵎᵎ
ദ്ദി •⩊• ) Im so sorry since you called Carne your wife I left something diabolical in the reblogs
i hope you enjoy!! Carne may take the lead for characters I need to theorize about due to the lack of canon content lol and I hope you like what I stirred up ^^
Another chara w no gifs, sorry
𓄯 Little is to be known about your roommate, or that is how he desperately wants it to seem. “Desperate” might not be the best word. That would imply some sort of active aggression.
𓄯 Nothing had been mentioned in the newspaper ad for the room. Merely, “Quiet bedroom in shared apartment. Will have own bathroom. Shared kitchen. Laundromat downstairs. Roommate keeps to himself.”
𓄯 Well, better than most. And the cheapness matched the area. Beggars can’t be choosers.
𓄯 When you knocked on the door, his posture was stiff; as if he really didn’t want to show you the apartment, but his mother had told him to. And you picked up on why he was especially taut almost immediately.
𓄯 At every room, he stands at the open frame and doesn’t even gesture to the inside. Just standing and hoping you understand to take the look.
𓄯 To be honest, it’s a relief. Chatty roommates were more trouble than they’re worth.
𓄯 Though he wouldn’t wish to show it, Carne is also relieved at your silent observation of the space that feels entirely your own; not patronizing or exasperated. Multiple candidates had shown up and either immediately turned away at the sight of him or yapped his ear off with idiotic questions and concerns. What time did he take supper? Did he want to eat together? What did he do for work? Would he have problems with people out past ten pm?
If it were possible, Notorious B.I.G would have taken care of all of them, but that would be far too conspicuous.
With no major issues with the apartment, you take out a notebook and scribble the question to him, in the musky, dimly lit room:
“When is it okay to move in?”
He pauses. Then, he takes the notebook and writes back to you in a blocky print font:
“Whenever.”
𓄯 Thus begins your silent, but not entirely solemn, coliving.
𓄯 Carne is only described as harboring a great degree of hate. You can see that even without knowing, but it isn’t in a violent way.
𓄯 The starkness of the space. The couch and a radio on the floor, no rug. It’s clean enough; not dirty or dingy, but nothing personal, nothing to betray any hint of interest in something else. A hatred for all things maybe— or just annoyance for having to dust.
𓄯 You ask him if it’s fine to add your own things if you want, and he just nods, bemused.
𓄯 If you want a TV too, he’s not annoyed by it, that’s not why he didn’t get one in the first place. (It was because he couldn’t think of anything he was interested in watching outside his own space in his room.)
𓄯 But if it isn’t extremely loud or energetic, say, a documentary or a news program (especially if he’s received messages about anything from the Boss), he doesn’t mind— if you don’t mind— sitting in and watching with you.
𓄯 Eats at pretty regular hours of the day, but never tends to occupy the kitchen long. It’s as if he’s cooking just for sustenance, the same way you pump gas into a car. Did he not enjoy flavor either?
𓄯 No, you determine, it’s because he hates shopping. Which is entirely fair.
𓄯 You ask one time if he’d like you to pick up anything. After a moment of staring at the wall, he instinctively goes to sign, before reaching for the notepad.
Excitement overrides you and you nearly brush his hand as your own stretch to speak to him. Shit.
He turns to you, eyes blank, but cautious. Well, made it this far. You sign out the question.
“What do you want?”
Some bit of relief goes across his face before he signs back.
“Artichokes. And this brand’s tomato paste.”
𓄯 After that, he’s much more comfortable signing to you. It becomes the default means of conversation.
𓄯 Each of you have a signal for when you’re starting a conversation or trying to ask a question. He taps the wall.
𓄯 Before you come to understand that, you might miss some of his signals. He nearly cracks the wall one day.
𓄯 Carne defaults to signing. It’s more convenient. He is actually hard of hearing, so he had the knowledge prior to deciding to be mute.
𓄯 He begrudgingly appreciates that which you add; posters, photos, plants, lights, any and none of the above.
𓄯 Ultimately, he has little appreciation for that around him; the noise of others in their earnestness doesn’t encourage his own investigation.
𓄯 But your quiet enjoyment does invite his intrigue. At the very least, he won’t judge you for any interests you have, because you don’t piss him off about them.
𓄯 He doesn’t seek out a cleaning schedule. If you keep yourself tidy, he will. Though his definition may differ (he doesn’t worry all too much about stove build up or dust but he at least keeps his bathroom clean).
Absolutely the type to need to know if company is coming. Non negotiable. If you forget, it could be compromising to his position.
𓄯 And he’s most comfortable coming home after a long day of fruitless scouting and lying in wait to you with headphones on or engrossed in a TV program. He does make some kind of sound so you know he’s there, most of the time.
𓄯 His interests veer towards the solitary. Reading, maybe a video game or two. I could see him collecting foreign movies or CDs as well, because they could be delivered and he wouldn’t have to interact with them.
𓄯 If you were interested in the same things, you would likely have to be very casual and polite. He has boundaries. The only reason he opened this room up is because pay from the Boss is starting to dry up.
𓄯 He’s only on retainer. He isn’t an active member of the squad in comparison to Tiziano and Squalo, per se; the nature of his Stand allows him a lot of free time that he’s used to spending on his own.
𓄯 But he will let you play something with him, if you quietly pick up on the controls or learn as you go, maybe failing a few times. As someone who has no leverage to fail in real life, it can be endearing to see someone work on something.
𓄯 Carne is the epitome of neutrality, by terms of the Boss’ needle. He is that which takes out those who are too close for comfort.
𓄯 If you were a low level member of Passione, he certainly wouldn’t let you know of his status. But if you weren’t, you are an absolutely wonderful presence to return to.
𓄯 Quiet, gentle, curious but not prying. When he returns, it isn’t an affair, nor are you jumping him to chide for some offense of coming home too late or too loud. He doesn’t do much of the latter anyway.
𓄯 A life separate from the will of the oligarchs. His faith doesn’t waver, but it is enforced by your peace not interrupting his mission.
First time requesting If you feel like this isn’t something you want to write don’t hesitate to Ignore my request!!
—-
/I had this silly little request for Joestars x femreader! Feel free to add any character you want:3/
how would Some of the joestar’s react when they suddenly realize they left/forgot their wallet at home or a car that’s parked 5 blocks away for some reason..
The establishment was quite a EXPENSIVE One as they promised Reader a beautiful and calm evening. Maybe they would call someone or ask a friend for money?
WOULD THEY DINE AND DASH!? I just know that’s something bs Joseph would try.
notes: I lovveeee this idea its so funni, hope you enjoy!(also added DIO in the end because he technically counts, right?) tried to keep the time period friendly✌️🥺
Giorno and josuke are platonic btw! Jotaro is in part4
Jonathan:
when he realizes that his wallet is missing he internally worried, its not like himself to forget. its fine though, you needn't know. all he has to do is indiscriminately leave for a moment, after politely pardoning himself and made sure he was out of your line of sight - - he ran as fast as he could.
he shouted at the carriage driver through half way the distance
"Check inside for my wallet!"
when the mad did, and retrieved it he was ordered to throw it as far as he could in attempt decrease the time to reach it, and with a swift dash back he also yelled his gratitude to the driver.
Jonathan came back to you drenched in sweat,
"sorry sorry, I just...Had a complexions."
if you pry any more, he'll just vaguely answer, he does not want his lover to see her gentleman be so forgetful!
Joesph:
"Oh No!"
he exclaimed while patting himself, earning some dirty glances from the other customers. Once he noticed your gaze at him he immediately responded.
"Don't worry, its nothing." after a moment of deliberation he put a causal attitude and added "Just forgot my wallet."
"But don't think I don't have a way out of this, just wait until the waiter shows up."
when the two of you finish your dessert, and the waiter eventually approaches. Joseph sprung from his seat and carried you like a princess out the restaurant as fast as his legs could take him(which are in great shape mind you.)
"uncle speedwagon could cover the bill, and my bail"
jotaro:
"good grief."
he never shows panic, never will. he glances at his watch and his surroundings, and decided that telling you bluntly was the best option. "I left my wallet in the car, You stay here I'll get it back." straight to the point.
when he was a teen it would've been dining and dashing, but he's an adult now and on a date. he can't, It'll be disrespectful to you. And its not like it will take long...
...right the car is parked on the other side of the road because of how busy the restaurant is, he'll just cantering his way over. and with some slight help from Star Platinum to snag it without opening any doors, Jotaro came back without any trouble.
Josuke:
he excuses himself to the bathroom to call the only person who would help, as unceremoniously as possible. he dialed the number he knew by heart and prayed his one of his best buddies wasn't busy, and the relief he felt was immense.
"hello?"
"koichi! you got to help me!"
after explaining the situation he's in, Koichi took a long pause and answered "Do you want me to go to your house, get your wallet, and get to the restaurant you're at?"
"yes! exactly! Come on Koichi, I'm trusting you!"
another stretch of silence that made Josuke think his friend hung up, "...Fine, but you own me for a month!" and he would gladly do for a year for this.
the three trips that'll his friend would need will take long, So Josuke made sure he'll keep you occupied as he could, everything that happened to him was told in extruding detail - - like how he one a million yen, burned down a house by accident, anything really. until the familiar face appeared, and the both made sure to be as causal as the could. "hi Josuke-kun, can I talk to you for a sec?" and Josuke tried to appear startled like he didn't cause it "what? Koichi-kun? here? now way bud!"
"the receptionist was a nightmare- -"
"I know, I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you I'll promise!"
Giorno:
he contemplated on "borrowing" from any unfortunate staff with extra flair for your entertainment, though what's most effective is to ask his "third" man - - mista.
and that "ask" is subtle, just slightly raising his voice while in conversation to get His bodyguard to notice, and from under to table motion to pay the bill. Giorno will make sure that worries about money won't cross your mind, and if you ask about the payment- - even as a joke.
"Its already cover, you just enjoy the meal."
Jolyne:
She panicked a bit, but quickly thought of a plan - - use her stand. while she kept you occupied, Stone free unraveled until it reach the car that held her wallet. what she account for people stepping on the rope by weaving out of the way with surgical precision, and retrieved her wallet before her arm full unraveled.
she blew a sigh of relief after feeling the fabric, and waved it a bit to get your attention.
"You know I'm paying right?"
Dio:
his presence was enough for no waiter to come near and ask for the bill
you, though he was feeling a bit playful today. he noticed a waiter that was a little too snobbish, and pointed a finger at him - - not making any eye contact.
"you, come over here"
the waiter cautiously approached, gaze to floor as if one look would offend The vampire, before the man would spit out one word DIO interjects.
"give me your wallet."
the waiter flinched from surprise, "pardon?" he said, "now." DIO commanded, he added on "My worth is far greater than everyone in this establishment, I needn't to bother with you people." he stood his full height and addressed you "come, we're finished here"
notes: i just HAD to put my boy koichi there he's reliable fr fr❤️🩹❤️🩹❤️🩹 and I was cackling while writing joseph's and dio's. also that third man ref was to PHF mista refers to himself as such. regardless I'm happy i got to write my man's jonathan I LOVE GENTLEMAN!
Hiya!! This is my first time requesting so if this if this doesn’t float your boat it’s ok!
I keep seeing stuff where it’s implied reader is also a stand user but how about Mista x reader who is not a stand user, so whenever she catches him talking to the air (his stand) she thinks it’s just a quirk of his and is concerned but is too scared to ask about it 😭
Maybe the pistols also keep whining to him about her not being able to see them. Also maybe he’s trying to be intimate with her but he’s clearly distracted by something as if he’s being watched and provoked 💔
Also idm if other characters are included I’m just obsessed with Mista currently lol
ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡ Guido Mista x Fem Reader (No Stand) ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡
ദ്ദി •⩊• ) No Stand no problem, or it would be if his Stand weren’t like his actual babies ajsjdkendj
I hope you enjoy! This reignited my love for Mista tbh…. Love a silly man. I stuck to him and did a longer post, lowkey feeling Buccigang rn
˚. ᵎᵎ Perhaps Mista had a reason after all, to be so superstitious. When you finally acquiesced to his pestering you for a date, it had gone well. Of course it had, for you to still be with the guy this many months later.
˚. ᵎᵎ Affectionate, funny, attentive— no matter what you may be feeling or doing, he couldn’t resist you and you knew it intimately.
˚. ᵎᵎ But you couldn’t help but immediately pick up on his… quirk.
˚. ᵎᵎ The best way you could describe it would be as if he had imaginary friends. But they were also actively antagonistic or needy, sometimes?
˚. ᵎᵎ Why you would imagine friends who annoyed you? You couldn’t tell. But that had to be what it was.
˚. ᵎᵎ Sometimes it barely occurred at all. A full date at an arcade went by with Mista’s only complaints being that you were better than him at air hockey. A movie night at home where each of you laughed over the bad acting. Totally peaceful.
˚. ᵎᵎ Then, there were days. Just…. Days.
“Shut up— no, not you, I’m sorry!”
“I need to step out for just a minute. Wait they— really, they have our table ready? UGH— no, I’m not mad at you, I promise, just one second—“
“Eat. Slower.”
“Get back here or I— I’m not worried if you want to walk ahead! Haha, don’t… worry…”
˚. ᵎᵎ He apologizes PROFUSELY every time, both endearing and worrying.
˚. ᵎᵎ It’s not that you worry something is wrong with him (well, maybe a little). And it is really, really funny when he’s attempting to grab at something that isn’t there, only to trip a little and nearly fall over.
˚. ᵎᵎ More like… if it wasn’t something in his head… is whatever haunting him after you too?
˚. ᵎᵎ Once or twice you’ve felt what could only be described as another finger on the outside of your hand, when he holds it.
˚. ᵎᵎ Or something tickling your nose right before you sleep.
˚. ᵎᵎ Or— the absolute scariest, you remember with horror— a moment you were sat on Mista’s lap.
Straddling him, your shirt tossed to the side. One of his hands caressing your hip, the other loosely cradling the back of your head, the smell of musk and gunpowder tickling your nose along his stubble. His tongue on your bottom lip. The lights were low, downright romantic. Impressive for him.
Finally you’d gotten that damn beanie off of him and could play with his curls, you told him how much you loved his hair, and still. Heat grew between your bare chests. Your heart thudding as—
You yelped, and jumped so violently you almost fell off Mista’s lap and he had to scramble to grab you. Cursing, but his tone was lined with concern.
“Babe, babe, what was that?”
“I-I’m sorry!” You stammered. Brown eyes met yours, his brow crinkled in concern— god he’s handsome, but not the time. “I swear… I swear it felt like, like you moved your hand to my hair. But I can feel them not there too, like, clearly—“ you gesture to his hands, VERY MUCH not on your scalp. “Did your ghosts take an interest in me? God you really are unlucky, huh?” Weakly laughing, you tap at his chest. Gods. It takes everything not to cringe at yourself.
Just when everything was normal, now you were the one making a fuss out of things.
“Let’s just ignore it. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry,” he assured you, rubbing a circle on your hip. Though… you can’t help but notice how his eye darted annoyedly, towards a spot above your shoulder, not too far from where you felt the sensation. And his smile was a little tight, when he looked back at you.
“Howsabout we take this to the bedroom, yeah, babe? My ghosts have to have at least a little dignity, yeah?” The emphasis made you stiffen a bit. Did he see something…?
But you shook your head. A good night, you wanted a good night dammit. He pecked your cheek.
“C’mon, cutie. I’m not done with loving you yet.”
˚. ᵎᵎ Mista is, unfortunately, in a hell of his own making.
˚. ᵎᵎ And it is not the least bit helpful that he’s surrounded by “I told you so”-ers in the forms of Abbachio and Bucciarati.
“Mista.” Bucciarati’s voice is gentler— but still firm enough to shut Mista’s mouth as he opens it to protest. Blue eyes level with his. “I don’t care what you tell her. But not the truth. Do you understand?”
˚. ᵎᵎ And so, he agonized: and really, he was just grateful you weren’t freaking out on him 24/7. Because he was.
˚. ᵎᵎ Because THEY were.
˚. ᵎᵎ Number 5 seemed especially distraught that you couldn’t see them. He was really hoping for another ally against Number 3, and it becomes a real issue because he likes you. A lot.
˚. ᵎᵎ Doubly annoying for their user, who, exasperated, really doesn’t want to gang up even more on the little guy. But does he have to do it in the middle of dates?
˚. ᵎᵎ It’s most often Number 5 and Number 2 that cling to you, but if Number 1 goes, all of them do. Leading to incidents like the one above.
˚. ᵎᵎ They get that you aren’t a Stand user, but they aren’t bound, like their user, to a code of conduct. So it’s difficult for them to understand why you can’t at least know about them.
˚. ᵎᵎ Secretly, Mista agrees too. You’re basically his lucky charm. Your blessing on the Pistols? He doubted he’d ever miss a shot again.
˚. ᵎᵎ In the meantime though— he’s really, really just grateful you don’t question him too much.
˚. ᵎᵎ Stammering to himself in the middle of dates. Swatting at the air. Insisting on stepping outside what felt like every thirty minutes. Anyone else would think he had some friends in the head…. Or worse, he was cheating.
˚. ᵎᵎ But just as he accepts all of your quirks, you accept him: his superstitions, the tics of his Stand, his easygoing nature that borders on carelessness.
˚. ᵎᵎ It’s too easy to be like that with you. You make him relax.
˚. ᵎᵎ No wonder the reflection of his soul swarms you like butterflies: in the breeze, you laugh, unable to tell that the Stand is peppering you with kisses, and your nose scrunches.
Could you write anything about Jodio? 🥹🙏 I’m so thirsty for content of him…
- 🪷
All Nighter
synopsis: you miss your boyfriend. sometimes playing video games and being on discord calls isn't enough.
tags: college au, fem! reader, everyone is always depicted 18+, sfw, fluff, slight angst (?), established relationship, jodio can be a little mean, he's so cringe, discord mentioned (shivers), yearning, pining, e-couple (lmaoo)
a/n: jodio the type to be like "chill its my morning voice" in the most deepest tone he can go.
"good rounds."
"same time tomorrow?"
"bye."
it's become a bit of a habit that your boyfriend had said the same three phrases to you almost every single night. the minute you slipped your headphones on and pressed the power button of your pc, you knew that you were in for a few hours of farming for kills and for clips. sure it was fun, especially when you had the chance to just mess around and install mods. but it gets to a point where jodio starts treating you like he would with his other friends.
this all started when you agreed to download this new game that he became obsessed with. you were skeptical at first, already enjoying your farm and solo, story driven games. so to dedicate your time on a new game, that you had no idea how to play, seemed draining enough.
"i need a healer on my team. i can always depend on you." jodio explained and you pouted in response, irritated that he couldn't exactly see your face. "just pick whoever and stay by me."
"that's all i'm gonna do? is to just heal you?" you asked, already looking through all the supporting role characters. some were cute but you could tell that he was only just using you.
"i mean," jodio trails off and you could faintly hear the clicking noises of his controller peak through his mic. his shitty mic that he's had since highschool. "that's what you're good at."
you let out a small sigh as you picked the best looking character in the role, anyone of them that simply stood out to you. "alright." you answered curtly. and just like that, another few hours of your night was dedicated to make your boyfriend happy.
your face remained emotionless, even after the handful of times the victory screen had flashed across your monitor. you had music playing really softly in the background, though you already felt like the biggest loser despite everything.
you quit after that match, jodio questioning your disappearance but you always excused it with having classes in the morning or just feeling really tired. and of course, he does nothing to fight back and lets you log off for the night. you hoped he would've convinced you to stay, to almost beg back for you but he always went with the flow and it pissed you off. the first few times you hardly noticed but he made it seem like you were a necessity, a last minute thought.
you didn't cry to bed, you stopped doing that a while ago. the numbness was something you had gotten used to and you found youraelf going to sleep faster just to shut off any other late night thoughts before you start getting more and more depressed.
the next morning, you stared at your phone as you bit the inside of your cheek. no messages from jodio yet. you figured that he probably stayed up late and is just sleeping in, but it was already pushing past noon. you had eaten breakfast, on your lunch now, and you were at your campus library with your laptop propped open but no real work has been done.
the anxiety has been eating you alive, as you reached for your phone. you didn't want to seem like the clingy girlfriend but you missed him, you really do. it just felt like a big slap on the face when you see yourself crawling back like a dumb dog, hurting more when you finally hit send and the message had been delivered.
being in a long distance relationship is definitely not for the weak, this is something a lot of people know. you and jodio have mutually agreed to this ever since you had graduated highschool. you were going to different schools, being physically close with each other would be really hard since it's a long car drive. you have visited him before and he had taken the time to visit you as well, but it just wasn't enough.
it started off being once a month, then once every other month, to now just seeing each other three times a year. you wondered if he ever thinks about you the way you do with him, if he ever misses your warmth or your affection. you tried to distract yourself with your work but your eyes kept glancing back to your phone.
jodio slept in late. he couldn't recall what time he really went to bed, everything from last night was a big blur. he was groggier this time, barely making the effort to stretch his kimbs out and yawn as he slowly got out bed. he left his phone charger, heading to the bathroom while you sat on the other end, running on false hope.
and then the unthinkable happened. he finally texted you back.
sorry. overslept. - 1:22 pm
you sighed out of relief, glad that he was okay but you couldn't ignore the frustration that you felt. just thinking about his face made you mad. but jodio was clueless when it comes with detecting tone through your messages, he takes it almost literally. still, you wanted to give him a piece of your mind and be honest with yourself.
we need to talk. - 1:25 pm
he didn't know what to expect really. you were really going to drive all the way to his place, knowing that he wouldn't put the same effort into coming over to yours instead. it was just one thing after another, how much effort you were willing to put into this relationship and he just lets you. it made you question if he really cared about you. or for this relationship.
you gripped the steering wheel as you sped your way over to him. to his university late at night, full gas tank and all. you came prepared physically but emotionally, you were all over the place. part of you feared that this would be the end of your relationship if he doesnt get his shit together.
you hugged yourself as you stood outside his dorm room, staring down at the floor. you waited a few seconds. and just as you were about to knock for the second time, the door opened and there stood your boyfriend in his pajamas. he barely was able to get a word out and you immediately clinged on to him. your arms wrapped so tightly that you could feel him struggle slightly.
you needed this as much as you didn't want to admit. because you were so mad at him but he was so warm. and he smelled exactly how you remembered last time you saw him. a mix of his own musk and sweat, a little funky but you grew to love it.
"i missed you." your voice sounding a lot more shaky than you anticipated.
"i'm always here." you heard the chuckle in his voice, returning the hug and that only made you hold on to him even tighter. "whats going on..? are you mad at me?"
"i don't know." you sighed, finally pulling away from him. you didnt want to have this conversation in the hallway of his dorm room. and for once he understood you and gestured for you to come in. and that you did.
his room was messy, of course. dirty laundry in a pile and a bunch of trash on his desk. it's so typical but it suits him so well. it felt almost nostalgic despite it only being a year since you've been in here. and you didn't know that he missed it just as much.
"it's nice that you actually checked your phone this time." you crossed your arms. "i don't know what im feeling. im mad but.. i'm also really sad..?"
jodio felt awkward as you tried to explain yourself what was going on. he's never been the best to comfort someone when they were clearly struggling with something. he's normally blunt at times and it can come across as mean. but he meant well, if he wanted to be a dick than he would just lie all the time. at least, that's how he views it.
"oh..." he muttered. "i'm sorry?"
"god.." you pinched the bridge of your nose, taking a deep breath as you reached for his hand and lead the way to his bed where you can both sit. "stop apologizing for that. i just wanted to talk about.. us."
"what about.. us..?" jodio gestured, keeping his hand on yours. he liked the warmth.
"i feel like you don't take this seriously. that you don't take me seriously." you started off, giving his hand a small squeeze.
"is this about the game we played the other night?" jodio raised a brown at this, unsure where exactly you were taking this conversation. he doesn't take a lot of things seriously because he's just so used to the weird crap that happens all the time.
"no, this is a general concern. i just feel like... you don't appreciate me enough." you continued. "for god's sake, jodio! i drove all the way out here for you and all i get is that look on your face." you attempted to keep your cool but that was a bust.
he stood there, lips firmly pressed into a thin line while his arms were kept at his sides. he felt lost, his eyes staring at your figure while you kept your arms wrapped around you. were you too harsh? you were being honest, sugar coating anything wouldn't help and he needed to hear the truth.
now it was jodio's turn to speak, you didn't want to say anything else. you felt like you had everything you needed to say. all you're missing is him. you wanted him to say something, anything.
"please say something." your voice got quiet, looking down at the wood floor and all you can see was him taking slow steps forward.
he hugged you. a warming, bear hug where his scent overfilled your nose, that familiar smell that lets you know that he's close. you got a little emotional, immediately hugging him back and you felt on of his hands rest on top of your head as he pulled away slightly to look down at you.
"im sorry." he mumbled. "i really do care. maybe i just-.. i dunno, have a hard time showing it? its stupid but i feel like a complete noob when it comes to this."
"you're telling me.." you trailed off and for once he laughed quietly at your joke. whether it was forced or not, you were glad that your boyfriend was able to understand your frustration. still, you had to tease him for how apologetic he was because it was just a little bit pathetic.
but you kinda liked it.
"if you're really sorry, you need to make it up." you wrapped your arms around yourself, staring up at him with puppy-like eyes. you were quietly begging for him to just let you stay. you already traveled so far and it was getting late.
"i will." jodio mumbled, one of his hands still in his pockets while the other was at his side. "i'll uh.. send you gifts and stuff, yknow? from your amazon wishlist."
"i don't care about that." you furrowed your brows, jabbing at his side. "let me stay the night, you ass! do i have to spell everything out??"
"i already assumed that you would." he smirked, letting you smack him around some more. that made you more frustrated but he caught your arms midair, pulling you in for a kiss and you melted.
you tilted your head slightly, one of your arms wrapped around his shoulder while he hooked his arms under your thighs and prompted you to jump. he carried you over to his bed, gently tossing you on to the mattress and you giggled at the recoil bouncing back as he joined you. he had one arm behind his head, the other inviting you to cuddle to his side and that you did. your lips pressed against his cheek, small kisses peppering the sides of his face over and over again.
and he happily relished in from your attention. he was planning on gaming with his friends tonight and he knew his phone was blowing up from all the pings he was getting from discord. but he'd have to tell those losers that he's spending time with his girlfriend instead.
‧₊˚🌈✩ ₊˚🫧⊹♡ “Fun Day, My Way” - Narciso Anasui x Fem Reader x Weather Report NSFW ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
ദ്ദി •⩊• ) Hiiiii. Hiiiii please take this from me lmao
Baby’s first threesome fic really had me going “why is this so long” 💀 NOT LIKE THERE’S ANOTHER PERSON TO GET OFF—
I honestly have sooooo many ideas for a reader who is Weather n Anasui’s whore. I love them. I genuinely just had to stop myself bc I felt bad abt how long this was taking ;-; back to normal schedules soon <3
Notes: degradation, Anasui is a bit of a bully, Eiffel-Tower threesome, penetrative sex, cumming inside, cumplay, cunnilingus, mild overstimulation, subtle coercion/blackmail, you have a crush on Weather that Anasui takes advantage of, slightly inaccurate depictions of American legal processes
“Third time should be the charm, right?”
Blank eyes lift from the page that they were glued to in the “help wanted” section. Weather tilts his head, frowning slightly in concentration, nearly cross eyed from focusing on you, and the things in your hands.
“Please. Please remember to throw out your food stuff. Not the first time I’ve asked.”
Guilt flickers over his expression and he takes the stack of instant ramen cups with a nod, standing and almost letting the newspaper fall before clumsily grabbing it with his other hand. You stifle a laugh; his cheeks redden a tiny bit in embarrassment.
“Sorry--” he starts.
“No, no, it’s fine, relax,” you say, patting his arm. It isn’t funny. It is. But still.
Weather sighs.
“There’s nothing older than yesterday,” he explains.
“Don’t need to worry. It’s all good.”
He nods, still a little guilty looking. “I got distracted— Anasui—“
“Oi, don’t blame me!” The pink haired man snaps from the kitchen island. You roll your eyes.
“Sui, chill, I wasn’t about to bring out the torch and pitchfork for you. You’re not worth the effort.” Teasing, you stride past him to the sink and flip the faucet. Water sputters out the tap, drips at first before turning to a tepid stream.
The utilities at this place were far from a luxury hotel’s, but you’d rather have a lukewarm shower at your own time, in your own damn place, than surrounded by fifteen-odd other naked chicks. Options were limited when the third member of your little house crew had looked at the single outfit that he’d come into the prison with on his tray for so long the staff barked at him to not hold more people up.
Money, money. Whatever you found next would hopefully be better than that fast food place you just left. Putting up with that damn manager was going to put you back in Green Dolphin for real.
You scrub your hands, pressing your lips together.
Damn green paper.
Weather lifts the lid on the trash can and drops in the stack of cups he’d accumulated under the coffee table. Anasui opens the fridge.
“You see anything in there you want to do?” you ask.
Weather nods, and sets the newspaper down on the counter between the sink and Sui’s cutting board. A few jobs are circled with a red pen: you briefly scan over them with a nod. Construction, warehouse fare, a lot of temp or contract stuff. Companies you’d suggested. Wow. You can’t hide the bit of pride you feel at how he listened to you.
“Good array of options.”
He nods, reading over the options again. You look over your shoulder.
“Sui, what about you?”
Drawers in the peeling white fridge squeak. Then there’s a shivering sound of glass and plastic bumping against each other as he shuts the door and strides back over to his cutting board without a word.
Typical. Damn man wasn’t deaf. You exhale, leaning your hip against the cabinet before straightening. Ew, wait, why is it tacky? Pray to god it’s just the humidity.
“Hey, Sui. I was talking to you,” you repeat.
“I’ll find something I like,” he replies airily, and slaps down a few slices of turkey onto the white bread. “I don’t want to hop between jobs left and right.”
Asshole. “Yeah, I definitely wanted to leave my insured job cold turkey,” you say sarcastically. He raises an eyebrow.
“You--”
A warm, firm hand lays on your shoulder.
“Knock it off, both of you. Please.” The “please” isn’t a threat, per se, but it’s said a little bit firmer than usual.
Damn the fact that Weather had to come with a bitchy, pink haired killer as a side accessory. You sigh, and give Anasui a stink eye he easily returns.
Not worth it, not worth it. Weather was right. Really, Anasui wasn’t that bad: he just wasn’t so social. And in a cramped apartment? Shit, you really shouldn’t complain, you admit to yourself as you shrug off the former’s hand.
Ultimately, it was for the better, not just savings wise, but emotions wise, that he was here. When your careful chiding didn’t do anything, Anasui’s sarcastic spats would get Weather moving a little quicker.
And you needed to move quickly.
Commuted. You’d looked it up even after your lawyer had confirmed you wouldn’t be there for longer than ten months, rather than the four extra years you had been promised, and it was a totally real and totally legitimate reason for you to get out. And it was all thanks to a cluster of idiots that thought they could get away with fudging some details. Maybe miracles existed after all.
And that was where you couldn’t stand Anasui’s pessimism. Though he occasionally left and came back with extra parcels of money, for the most part he lurked within the apartment constantly, reading, working on something in his and Weather’s room-- sometimes sewing something in the living room you tried to peek at, but as soon as he caught your look, he went back to his room.
Yeah sure, you were going to burn out of looking soon if you didn’t get pickier, but you had to at least try, even with the grease stain of prison time on your resume. Chrissakes, you were innocent and Weather had nonviolent convictions, you were ninety percent sure when you approached him at the rec fence that he’d have good news. But Anasui?
Dude should be lucky he didn’t get a longer sentence in the first place, you think, and give Anasui a stink eye.
“Sorry.” Muttering, you stretch your arms and yawn, striding past the two of them. “I actually also have a sale going on today, so I need to commandeer the shower for a little.”
“What are you getting rid of this time?” Weather asks.
“Old trunk of clothes. It’s not a lot, but some vintage seller--”
“You didn’t ask me.”
Anasui bites into his sandwich like he wished it were your head. Maybe he does. Freak. You narrow your eyes at him.
“I did, actually. Remember? We went to the storage unit to get my musty ass mattress out for you. When you opened the steamer trunk, you said, and I quote--”
“I just said--” Weather starts, exasperated, but you hold up a hand to cut him off and take a deep breath. Count to ten.
“Weather, I’m not trying to argue, I promise.” You turn back to Anasui, like, are you serious? And unfortunately his expression says yes.
“I did show you that trunk. It’s the one you pulled out that patterned jacket from, remember? The one you’ve been wearing recently?”
You knew exactly which one it was. The fabric was silky and sleek, and so light that you had no issue giving it to the man who started bitching the moment the needle of the thermometer ticked over eighty-five degrees. And as soon as you mention it, his eyes flicker with guilt before he rolls them.
Asshole.
Anasui says (huffs, really), “Fine. I didn’t know you were in such a rush to get rid of it.”
“I don’t want to just have shit sitting there,” you counter.
“What if it could come in handy later?”
Your gaze roves over to Weather, who frowns.
“What do you mean?”
“There’s a lot of furniture in there. When you move out, you could use it there.”
That was true. This cruddy spot had come with a lot of furniture, which was both good and bad; you weren’t able to move in as much of the junk from the storage unit as you would have liked and you wanted to get rid of as much of it as possible, even if not to move things into the house but to pay less for the unit. Felt like a damn house when you walked in.
“Most of the stuff in there isn’t really practical, it’s just family things I inherited, some of it is valuable, some of it yeah, I won’t… get rid of.” Your voice softens a little. “I’m not getting rid of the unit, Weather. Don’t worry.”
It’s not much of a show of emotion, but his brow unknits, and his face takes on an air of calm as he nods.
Weather was ridiculously cute: a part of you worried that you were taking advantage of him; over and over you were googling if being attracted to an amnesiac was somehow immoral, but he knew way more than you initially expected. How much of that he picked up from Anasui, you didn’t know.
White waves that he rarely styled and regularly covered with a similarly colored hat paired with his tan skin and light blue eyes-- when you were in a dreamy state of mind, he looked downright angelic. Today, he was handsome even without trying, dressed in a band shirt and sweatpants.
“That bedframe was nice,” he offers.
“Why would she take your word on something like that?” Anasui asks.
“And why didn’t you let me ask that?” Playfully, you swat at his arm and he lifts it away from you with an eye roll.
“Tch.”
“Also, it’s not usually a bedframe that makes a bed uncomfortable, it’s the mattress. I would hope that you didn’t say that because you were planning on sleeping on the bedframe. If you took it,” you add, blood rushing to your face. God. Real smooth save. Definitely didn’t imply that you thought you both would sleep on the same bed when you left.
Anasui’s eyes narrow. You shoot him a glare.
Thankfully Weather is none the wiser and shakes his head.
“Please, don’t argue. But I wasn’t, no-- I don’t mind the mattress I have.”
Anasui clucks his tongue. “That bedframe is too big for that mattress. You have a twin XL, the frame is for a queen,” he reminds him.
Weather frowns. “Right.”
“Y/N has a queen.”
The fucking brat… again, as you bite the inside of your cheek, you thank your lucky stars that Weather doesn’t seem to know what’s going on. He just nods at Anasui, who is masterfully avoiding the evil look you’re giving him.
“How expensive would that be?”
“It depends….” You start quickly. Swear to god, if that stupid pink haired fuck interrupted you again…
“You could probably find a used one no problem. Just have to make sure it’s not too gross.”
“I see.” He tilts his head in thought.
“Anyway…..” you say slowly, “Anyone need the shower? Say no, or forever hold your peace.” You hold your hands up in surrender, pausing and glancing between the two of them. Weather shakes his head. Anasui bites into his sandwich again.
“I’m headed over now then.” You scoop up your outfit stacked on your laundry basket and stride down towards the shared bathroom of you three.
Behind you, Anasui starts to chat quietly with his friend.
Probably talking shit. You exhale, and lock the door behind you: not worth it, not worth it.
Your crush on Weather wasn’t exactly discreet, at least by your standards, but you forgot that he was oblivious in the sweetest way. And you really couldn’t do anything when you shared the apartment like this: not only because of Anasui, but… you bite your lip. Your fluffy bath rug is in need of a wash under your feet.
If you made Weather uncomfortable, it would be preferable to die on the spot.
Your position over him… it might make someone else uncomfortable. It would make you pretty damn uncomfortable (especially if it were Anasui you had to rely on…). But he took it in stride. When you came home exhausted after a thirteen hour shift at the fast food gig, he had no qualms about heating up extra leftovers. Or cleaning up the kitchen when you fell asleep on the couch. And even when you apologized, he didn’t seem to worry too much. By some metrics, you practically were a couple already, besides…
Closeness. This close, finally.
Too many times in the last year you’d thought about it, finally being this close to him instead of separated by at least three inches of iron bars. And now you were stopping yourself at the finish line so quickly you felt you might trip over it anyway. And that dumb, pretty asshole would watch the whole time and laugh, probably.
Christ.
The water finally begins to warm. As you step over the porcelain lip, something bright catches your eye.
A bright pink clump of hair sits near the drain like a tropical bug.
Gross motherf—
You bite your tongue and hiss out a string of curses. Hope his dick falls off, gets bitten off by an alligator, maybe he gets completely eaten.
No… you didn’t really want that. You didn’t. Maybe a little.
You stick your tongue out at yourself and shake your head.
Maybe you’d treat yourself to a good coffee.
“Y/N?”
“It’s obvious.” A pink nail catches on stray threads in the sweater, and Anasui has to clench his fist and shove it in his pocket.
No, don’t. Don’t. Once the itch and thoughts slowly become quieter, he exhales and looks at Weather evenly. The latter looks slightly confused.
“When a girl likes someone— or if she’s poor— she’ll put up with anything.” And when she doesn’t—
Weather frowns. “I don’t really like what you’re insinuating. Y/N doesn’t hate you.”
“Even if she did it wouldn’t matter, because she likes you. That’s my point.” He leans back into the couch and sighs.
Despite the attitude you gave him, he had to admit, he needed to find something to put his mind to. To distract. Or even better, hone skills at— that trembling lipped little “transition specialist” clearly wasn’t ready for him to show up on his appointments, because all the paths he’d suggested were laughable. Mechanic? No thanks. Retail management? He had enough issues roping in you and Weather. Constructions, demolition, junkyard? All such “close but no cigar” suggestions that he must have pulled out of his ass when he saw “disassemble” on the intake.
When you ran up to the rec fence like an idiot, bright eyed and babbling about fraud in the force and commuted sentences, he almost wanted to laugh at you. But even his lawyer…. His… had confirmed the news that the state would legally have to let him go.
“I’ll connect you to some groups,” he said flatly, and shuffled the papers in front of him without even looking at his charge. Anasui hadn’t expected much. But when Weather had suggested the three of you live together, something in him had stirred.
Maybe it was the expression on your face. The shock and excitement, but then the hesitation. It would always be there, he knew. Not that there was any use in self pity, but of course you would resent him for being there, when he could tell without a second glance how head over heels you were for his friend.
At the least, your annoyed expression was cute. Pouting lips. Eyes avoiding his, knowing what he would pick up on.
“Thank you for going in with us, Sui.”
“What? You like her, don’t you?”
Weather shifts in his seat. “Yeah. I do.” His voice is soft, softer than Anasui had heard it in… a while. “I don’t want to mess it up.”
Ugh. Both of you, fucking insufferable, as he grits his teeth. Dancing around this stupid thing for two whole months now. If you were crasser, maybe you’d outright bark at him for cockblocking you from Weather. But in the two months of living together, you still hadn’t even had the damn courage to lay your head on Weather’s shoulder, only to stutter and flit around him like him as a mother hen, so god knew when you would progress past annoyed looks. It pissed him off. Especially when…
“Love you forever, Anasui! Of course I’ll love you forever!”
Thank god the cup was plastic, or else he might have cracked it in his grip. Inhaling, he shakes his head. “You couldn’t if you tried. Believe me.”
“Well--” He pauses. Then, he does something that somehow shocks the pink haired man-- and blushes.
“I found something of hers.”
“What?”
Weather looks a little guilty, but reaches behind him into the crease of the cushion of the couch, and slides out a small, red and black covered book. Anasui’s nose crinkles.
“What--” grabbing it, he flips the cover over. Oh, what a paperback.
Black roses curl around a silhouette of a couple on a red background, the pose rather-- suggestive. Loopy silver text spells out an equally cheesy title: Between Thorns and Spires.
Yuck. He’s halfway tempted to throw it through the window; but the blackmail potential was really high. Even without that… he presses his lips together tight to keep from snickering, flipping through the pages and catching on the corniest lines that would make him cringe if he got to be alone: “quivering thighs”, “her plush, flush rose”, “made her positively feverish with ecstasy”. Seriously? You were indulging in this on the DL when your crush was right there?
Though, as his eyes move to Weather, he pauses dead in his tracks.
“I don’t know…” Weather trails off, eyes far away. His pupils dilate just a little, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. The pink in his cheeks doesn’t fade. “I wanted to… will she expect that?”
Of course she would. No, probably not, you were too nice, you wouldn’t expect him to immediately send you to the stratosphere. Fuck, each of you were just too considerate.
His hand tightens on the book. That might be too far. But…
“I’ll be out of your hair before you know it, okay? Don’t stress too much.”
“If she does, I have an idea.”
Two words: Hell. Yeah.
You hadn’t stopped grinning since you left the meeting spot. Halogens light your way in a comforting, warm manner as you get to the flaking gate.
All the sense of the prison life had kept you from excitedly counting the bills every second you remembered that the sale was indeed real, that their eyes had bugged out of their damn skull when a silk blouse from a brand you hadn’t been able to find online was tugged from the trunk. You almost wince when you think of how you’d dragged it out with all the grace of a dog pulling its favorite toy out from under a pile of shoes. Thank god the sleeve hadn’t ripped.
Oh well. The extra hundred you’d managed to weasel out of them had you higher than any drug.
Hell. It was worth saving, but if that interviewer got back to you…. you scratch behind your ear as you ascend the stairs to your apartment. There was nothing saying you couldn’t go to the thrift store. Maybe get a new outfit for your next interview.
Or, or— your heart trills with excitement-- you might be able to propose a date to Weather.
Especially if this interview went well. You have to push your thumbs into your cramping cheeks. Cripes. Getting ahead of yourself as usual.
But your head swims with visions of a cute aquarium date, walking to a cafe, holding hands at a movie theater— nothing too raunchy, but… you sigh, and unlock the door. Maybe in another life.
“Hey, you two! I have good news~”
But your singsong isn’t met with anything. In fact, the apartment is dark when you enter.
The only light comes from the TV down your line of sight, where Weather sits across from it— the blue light catches on his skin and pale features, carving out his jaw exquisitely. At the sound of the door, he turns to you.
“Hey!” You wave, giddy, slipping off your shoes and bounding towards him. Excitement swirls in your stomach and bubbles. “You won’t believe the luck I had.”
“Mm?”
For a second, you falter. That’s… well, it isn’t out of character for Weather, to reply like that. He wasn’t much of a talker. But there’s something off.
His eyes. They’re a little darker, the same way as when he was angry. And yet, something else-- none of his other tells were visible.
No, don’t worry about it. A bonus hundred dollars was in your pocket. Internally you shake your head, and grin at him.
“One of those blouses was worth way more than I thought and I got a little extra! Like, a hundred. Lucky me, right?” Your fingers drum against your thighs, and you shimmy a little. “I swear, one of these days I’m going to have to ask Anasui about some of these brands because I think he knows way more than he’s saying.”
If it weren’t such a relief to have those five twenties you’d cringe at how excited you sounded. But thankfully Weather reciprocates, his brows raising in polite surprise.
“That is lucky. Any idea of what to do with it?”
“Any idea? Damn, I have too many. But I’ll probably have to be responsible and save it,” you sigh, and flop down next to him.
Now that you could take a load off, fatigue slides down your spine and draws attention to how sore your feet are. Annoying, but expected from walking around to the bus stop and through the storage facility two times over. All you had to do tomorrow was relax. You could take a long, hot shower after making Anasui clean up his damn hair in there. The thought makes you giggle.
“What is it?”
You shake your head. “I’m just relieved. I don’t want to be dramatic.” Exhaling, you stare up at the ceiling.
“I don’t think you’re dramatic. I like it.”
Your heart flutters. “Ah, haha, it’s not-- it’s not serious,” you reply, laughing weakly as you nudge him. “Tired though. Crap, what do we have in the fridge?”
“Do you mind waiting to eat?” he asks.
And just as it begins to pick up the pace, your heart slams into a wall. What?
With it, your eyes widen on him.
Had… had he ever looked at you like this?
“Uh… no, what’s up?” You ask.
“I wanted to do something.” Weather leans a little bit closer, and says, softly, “It’s a little important.”
Important? What… you… it couldn’t be. Just when you thought about it?
“Y-yeah. Go for it.” Your voice is quiet.
His arm reaches up around the back of the couch. It steadies himself as he comes dangerously close to your face, mouth nearly touching yours— his breath brushes over your lips carefully, light, his form shrinking back just imperceptibly.
He was…. Hesitating. As if asking for permission to close that final, small gap.
Isn’t that what you’d been waiting for?
You kiss him. And know, immediately, that is exactly what he wanted.
Weather hums into your mouth, hand coming up to hold your waist. Your own drifts to his jaw, tilting it slightly— the new angle lets him lean you back even further, sliding down as he maneuvers you to lay back on the cushions.
His knee moves up between your legs, his form hovering over you. Each kiss is long, loving, with little break to breathe in between each one, each inhale silent and swift. You swoon under him.
Damn, what kind of dream did you stumble into?
When he finally draws back from you, you almost want to drag him back. His expression is enough to send warmth down to your abdomen.
“That’s…. Okay with you?” he asks.
“Okay?” You have to fight from laughing. He would ask like that, wouldn’t he, completely straight. “Yeah, it is. It’s more than okay. I’m just…. So annoyed at myself,” you say, shaking your head.
“I wasted so much time worrying.”
“You did?”
“Yeah.” It comes out almost like a whisper.
His eyes glimmer with something dark.
“Did you have… something else in mind, before I go get food?” You ask. Innocent. Trailing your tongue over your bottom lip. Your hand drifts to the buttons of your shirt. As you undo one his gaze falls to your chest.
His breath hitches.
“Yeah. It’s a bit of a surprise,” he admits.
In one smooth move he slips from the couch and tugs you up onto your feet.
Oh my god, was this… was this really happening? Your stomach flips.
Weather tugs you down the hall, towards his and Anasui’s room. Wait—
“D-did Anasui—“
But the man doesn’t pay you any mind, opening the door and bringing you inside.
No fucking shot.
Smirking, eyes narrowed precisely on you, and holding a book you swore you have chucked into the garbage, Anasui reclines on his queen bed— the blankets smoothed down, almost too perfect, a set of silvery handcuffs gleaming on the dark sheets. The shirt he had under his cardigan from earlier is gone, showing off his taut abs and the slight trail of pink hair— down towards— your throat swells.
“Why…. The hell do you have that?”
Your voice goes higher and higher pitched. The pink haired man tilts his head.
“Your favorite roommate actually found it.”
Favorite? Blood rushes to your face. Oh, my god. Wait. The last time you had seen it: the memory of a glass of wine, a night where Anasui and Weather were out somewhere else… Christ. No way. He saw that?
Weather’s hand slides from your waist, to your hip. At your ear, his lips trail down the curve as he brings you closer.
“Forgive me,” he says, in a quiet voice. “But it was interesting. And I’ve--”
“S-stop,” you mumble, covering your face. No, how could they. Christ, why couldn’t you throw yourself off a bridge?
The man at your side doesn’t listen. He kisses down your neck, sliding his hands right under the hem of your shirt-- feather light touches, until he reaches your hips, and lets his fingers cage them. You inhale.
“But I’ve liked you for a while,” Weather replies.
Your chest feels as though it might burst. Letting an eye open, you turn your head away from how absolutely pleased with himself Anasui looks on the bed.
He stretches, in the corner of your periphery. Then, he says,
“If you were curious about those scenes in the book, I’ll give you the chance to try it out. Before you tie yourselves together, of course.”
Curious?
“Sui?”
It’s practically a squeak. He slides from the bed, eyes burning neon pink, approaching you slowly-- almost like a panther stalking its prey.
As Weather’s hand slowly tugs your pants down, his lips leaving a burning trail down the skin of your shoulder, Anasui holds your chin in place, gazing at you. His mouth curls into a smile with sharp incisors. It curls your stomach; blood flushing your face, completely unable to meet his intense look.
“That’s it. Look at me just like that,” he says, soft.
And with that, his mouth slants against yours.
If Weather was languid, savoring every touch and leeching your breath with one kiss at a time, Anasui stole it quickly-- mouth against yours in a way that nearly bruises you, aggressive, plush, soft lips forcing you back into Weather’s hold.
That one holds you steady, despite the tremble of your legs. Against your backside, his erection grows-- christ, he was that big? You whimper into Anasui’s mouth.
He hums, letting his hips roll against yours-- and the bulge at his pants makes your head spin. They couldn’t. There was no way.
He tastes of a sweet, cheap white wine, and briefly you wonder what the hell they were up to when you were gone. But it doesn’t last long. Like they’re telepathic, Weather shuffles you forward and Anasui assists you in coming towards the bed, his hands easily undoing your shirt and slipping it off, letting his thumb under the cup of your bra.
Cool fingers loop into the hooks of it, and it comes loose around your chest, the flesh dropping vulnerable to their touch. Colder air raises goosebumps on your skin.
Before you can be embarrassed, though, one of Weather’s hands comes up to cup your left breast, and Anasui’s covers your other, pinching the nipple between two knuckles; sensitive, there’s nowhere to go as you squirm back into Weather’s chest, ass pressing against the insistent swell of his cock. His finger tips tease over the hood of your clit. You hiss.
“You want to make her feel good?” Anasui directs at the man behind you. Weather exhales, rumbling against your back.
“Yeah. Y/N, would you lay back?” your beloved asks. It’s too nice. Too gentle. But you nod, slowly.
“S-Sure.”
They both move you, carefully, back onto the bed, Anasui giving you one last peck on the lips before roughly flipping you over to lay with your back against his chest.
As cool as Weather is, his counterpart is flush, warm, the two of you practically feverish as your crush drags down your underwear-- and with absolute horror, you watch a thin strand of your arousal stretch between your folds at the fabric. It glistens in the low light.
Weather inhales.
“So wet…” he murmurs.
Stop. Stop. You can’t say it.
“I told you.” Anasui’s chest shudders behind you, as Weather slots himself between your legs and spreads them. “She gets so wet the second you start asserting yourself. You adore him, don’t you?” He asks, and nips at the shell of your ear.
“I--” your voice stops halfway, when Weather raises your hips towards his mouth. Then, he meets your gaze.
Hell… how can you reply? How, when the second he exhales, you would be at his mercy?
The very tip of his tongue brushes your clit.
“That’s the spot. Do it.”
Anasui’s quiet command spurs Weather to lap at the tight bundle of nerves between your thighs; soft continuous kitten licks that make you squirm with soft, pathetic pants. Each tiny bump grazes you.
Steadily, wet, slurping sounds grow in volume, Weather keeping his nose just barely at your clit as his tongue brushes you, poking carefully at your entrance. Thrills of pleasure go up and down your spine-- the nerves of your most sensitive parts exposed to Weather’s careful touch.
Anasui tugs your arms behind you. There’s scraping metal sound. Then, something solid and cold brushes against your wrists.
A tentative movement results in jingling, and you realize your wrists have been cuffed together behind your back. Panic doesn’t do much. Weather’s hands are firm, holding your thighs separate and scooping under the soft wet flesh, your head thrown back against the other man’s chest.
Fuck. Fuck.
“Wea-- Sui!” you whine.
“Yeah?” the latter whispers in your ear. His thumbs pinch at your chest, the ridges of his fingers rolling over your nipples. You can’t protest, hands secured behind you, writhing as Anasui presses you firmly against Weather’s mouth.
The tip of his tongue rolls against your clit again. And again. Again. Licking carefully, intentionally. Fingers push open your folds, exposing your tingling wet cunt to the cold air, one digit prodding at your entrance before slipping in and curling, curious, against your g-spot and making you arch. Gods. Gods, what did he read?!
“All he wants is for you to cum, you know? You should just give in.” The pink haired man behind you murmurs, and you arch your hips into Weather. He moans--the vibrations tingle against your clit.
The finger inside of you rubs a small circle, slow, the white haired man building a rhythm that has your eyes rolling back. Muscles in your gut begin to tighten.
“Mm… fuck, Im—“
“Go on.” Anasui coaches you.
You let out a strangled cry. Shit, would your neighbors hear? If they did, fuck it— delirium overwhelms you, your clit throbbing, each twitch sending waves of pleasure down your body. Each nerve tingles with the feeling of your orgasm, from the sharpness at your pelvis to the tickling down your limbs. Sweaty wrists slip against the metal-- Anasui nips at your neck.
“Good girl. I told you, Weather, she’ll like it even more the second time.”
Second… Time?
But you can’t even manage another word: instead, your throat closes around a scream when Weather’s lips wrap around your puffy bundle of nerves once more.
Anasui hums, pleased as your head presses back against his chest. One of his hands wraps around your neck, the other gripping onto your waist, securing you as the other man eats you like you were his last meal. A nail grazes the vein on the side of your neck. With it, your eyes go back.
“I told him to make it worth the wait. Almost a year of watching you two go back and forth.”
Your spine goes slack, only for him to pull you back up. Weather’s tongue spreads your opening: you cry out.
“Seeing you get fucked out like this though….” The pink haired man muses, and presses a kiss against your temple. “You look very, very pretty like this.”
The wet sounds between your thighs are positively disgusting, tears of shame beading at your eyes, it’s enough for one man to see you like this, but two?
Anasui’s cock presses against your lower back as you slip, helpless as Weather firmly holds your hips open and your pussy vulnerable to his tongue’s assault. Too much. Too much.
After your first orgasm, the feeling of his tongue is more and more intense, curling the appendage around the nub and sucking, bobbing his head back and forth, pushing in another finger and slowly stretching your cunt. Prepping for….
He’s dragging you back towards the edge, your nails digging into your palms. The pink haired man coos in your ear, tongue flicking out to catch the tear trailing down your cheek, and as your thighs practically vibrate around Weather’s head, the pleasure reaches an apex seizing every limb of you.
“Mm…MM!”
The moan is torn from your lips, Weather moaning into your pussy before you cum again.
The muscles are tense, every fiber of your being trembling as you blearily feel Weather withdraw from your pulsing folds, ecstasy dulling every move. Christ. Christ.
“Told you, when she can’t get away it’s even more intense,” Anasui exhales, and cradles your head. It lolls, limp.
“You have em?”
Weather sits back on his heels. Post orgasm, low light in the dull painted room, your eyes practically crossed, you can just make out how heavily lidded his own are— and the shadow of his cock pressing out from his sweats. You swallow.
Behind you, you feel Anasui shrug off his cardigan, his bare chest against your back— lean, wiry even in comparison to the muscular man in front of you. The planes of his pecs as his shirt comes up over his torso, the abs leading down to the V of his hips— and he shuffles out of his pants.
Big. That’s the first thing you register; bigger than you thought. His cock curves up, clean white hair curling at the base. He tugs out a small foil packet, and tears it open.
A thrill goes down your spine. You shift your legs. Was it worth it?
Well….
“Uhm…”
The air freezes. Weather stops dead. Anasui might not even be breathing.
“I’m…” you swallow. Christ it was embarrassing to say this in front of Anasui, but— “I’m uh, on the pill…. If… you want…”
Both of the men inhale sharply. Anasui’s grip on you tightens.
“Are you sure?” Weather asks. His voice is husky, deeper than you’d ever heard it. Between his thighs, his cock twitches.
After a moment, you nod.
“Flip her over.”
At Anasui’s command, Weather turns your hips, and positions you on your knees with your arms still cuffed behind you, making your chest meet the bed.
Roughly, the pink haired man tugs you forward, your cheek now resting on his bare thigh— when did he take his pants off?
Not as big as Weather, but still long. Curved, He grips the base and presses his cock against the side of your face, hard, warm, insistent.
You whimper. Behind you, Weather adjusts your hips to sit up a bit higher. Something warm pokes at your entrance.
“Do you really think you were better than us?” Anasui asks. Sharp, angry even. Was he annoyed?
The cuffs behind you fall off, and, shoulders sore, you attempt to push yourself up a tiny bit, but the man in front of you rises too—standing on his knees and wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and pressing your cheek to his dick.
Silver rests around your wrists with no anchor, helpless to his tug; it doesn’t matter. Your chest flutters. Shit.
The head of Weather’s cock splits you open, slow, as he presses into you, with an obvious need you can’t contest. Your jaw falls open, panting— after cumming twice, your legs are positively shot.
Despite it, Weather keeps a secure grip on your trembling hips as he moves himself into you.
When he bottoms out you let out a choked sound and Weather exhales. Fuck.
“So tight…” he murmurs.
“Hasn’t gotten any action unless she’s hiding a dildo. Wouldn’t be surprised.” Anasui lets out a harsh laugh when Weather gives an experimental thrust, making you squeak.
“Cute,” the man behind you murmurs, and pulls out just a little, before rolling his hips into you again.
“So cute,” he confirms.
He begins a rhythm of short, steady thrusts, his hips meeting the soft flesh of your ass with each movement.
Oh gods, the stretch, your insides clench to him and you moan, eyes fluttering. The head nudges against that tender spot inside you with every move, bumping, brushing lightly. Each bit of you sings in pleasure.
Anasui taps the tip of his cock against your lips, patiently.
Oh, hell. One hand cups the back of your head-- the other on your jaw tilting your face up, and you meet those acidic pink eyes again. His smile is cruel.
“Open up.”
As if he pressed a button, you do, tongue lolling out to cushion the velvety tip of his cock sliding into your mouth.
After his talk you half expected him to immediately fuck your throat. But instead, he pushes himself in slow, withdrawing slightly before using your scalp as leverage to push himself further, towards the back of your mouth-- tasting every bit of him, sweat soaked, but clean. Skin against skin. Your heart quivers.
A sharp thrust from Weather jolts you along Anasui’s length, and he exhales. You choke.
“That’s it, so good… you’re gonna take both of us—“ he holds your head steady as he rolls his hips again, his cock filling your mouth as Weather pulls out, hissing— “So damn good, when I’m through—“
And the two of them set a steady, mind breaking rhythm of movement as you’re jostled back and forth between them. Weather pulls out; Anasui pushes down your throat. He withdraws so only the tip is between your lips, only for the other man to shove his cock deep inside your cunt, a tantalizingly mean shove that forces you to keep Anasui in your mouth no matter how much he pulls back. Full. So full. No matter the end, there was no break. Salt and soap fill your nose and the plapping, wet sound of their use… holes stuffed full. Lips bump against his pelvis, trembling. And your eyes roll back.
Plap, plap,
Shit.
Sweat trickles down your spine to the space between your trembling thighs, where Weather holds you in place to take all of him. Each ridge and each curve glides over a new spot to make you whine and gag around Anasui’s dick.
The inside of your cunt clenches around Weather, breaking each inch of your brain and making you cute and pathetic. Too much. Every touch. Too much.
Drooling even-- to anyone else it would look depraved, the liquid beading at your lip. Anasui hisses curses and praises intermingled, Weather is near silent save for the occasional grunt, moan, his hands on your hips tightening as his thrusts become erratic. Your pussy stretches, accommodates him. Blearily, you bob back and forth, sliding your tongue along a vein on Anasui’s shaft that gets him gripping your head tighter. He hisses.
Your body is little more than a toy to them, isn’t it?
The thought makes your eyes roll back.The halogen light flickers in your vision. Your cunt clenches.
“Shit…” Weather gasps.
“So good, so good, were you whoring yourself out when we weren’t looking? Fucking getting ready for this?” Anasui taunts you, irritation lining his tone as he holds you, voice shaking.
Weather says nothing more— just pushes you along. Anashi all but fucking your throat with slow, forceful thrusts as Weather pistons into you, your gut weakly clenching as the pleasure builds again, nothing else, that’s all—
“You don’t get to do this for anyone else. Understand?” Anasui slaps at your cheek insistently, holding your jaw and forcing himself as far as he’d go, nose brushing his pelvis.
Musk makes you salivate. Your eyes flutter with his words.
“And no one else gets to make you feel. This. Good.”
Weather punctuates each word with a thrust against your g spot, and, with a long cry around the other man’s length you cum around him for the third time that night.
Body trembling. Jaw sore from the effort of holding it open, as Anasui ruts against your lips to the point his hair scratches your lips. Tears and drool mix together down your chin, towards your chest; and your brain may as well be leaking out with it. Esch bit of you begins to melt.
The man in front of you lets out a sound somewhere between a moan and a growl, and as Weather hisses out something behind you, you feel his cock flex as he finishes— pulling out part way through and making you shiver as you feel the warm spurts of his seed against your folds. The warmth fades, slow.
Anasui pulls almost all the way out and starts jerking along the base of his dick, gritting his teeth and slapping the tip against your tongue until he finally sighs, salty, slightly bitter cum covering your tongue and bottom lip.
The liquid pools in your mouth. Hazily, you manage a little bit of a tease by poking out the tip of your tongue, showing off his release. Anasui tchs.
“Swallow, or I’ll make your jaw even sorer.”
Asshole. You do, pressing a hand to your lips.
A fuzzy sensation at your back makes you twitch.
“Sorry,” Weather murmurs. The towel swipes over your ass cheek one more time, catching the stray bits of his climax. Your thighs quiver as you hold— well, it was nice of him at least. Would Anasui get mad if—
“Lay down before you fall,” he says.
That answered that. Carefully, you maneuver to lay on your side, chest heaving as you melt into the cotton.
A hand rests on your hip. The other man’s hand on your temple.
“You felt amazing,” Weather says simply. He traces a nonsense pattern on your thigh; it tickles a little. Warm skin starts to cool; goosebumps raise along your body and you hug yourself close. “Really.”
“Same. To…. Both of you,” you mumble. Hell, um…
“Sorry you saw that book,” you add weakly, hoping Anasui didn’t hear you after all, but the twitch of his fingers implies otherwise.
“Are you?”
It’s teasing, but there’s something under his voice that furrows your brows. A cricket goes off outside. What was he…
Glancing up, he refuses to meet your eyes.
“Well, I guess not. If it meant this happened,” you reply.
“And now you’ve gotten it out of your system.”
“Huh?” Weather and you say it at the same time. As you push yourself up on weak arms— embarrassingly, your crush grabs you to steady you— Anasui glances at you two before sliding off the bed.
“You two can be a pair now. Just treat him well,” he replies.
“Who said… who said anything?” You ask. He tchs.
“Don’t tell me you’re still doing this,” Anasui bites. But his voice. It’s tight. Sharp. It hurts your heart, despite it all.
“W—Anasui.” You sigh, and sit back on your heels.
Ever dramatic. “Can we at least talk about this in the morning? Yeah, I like Weather—“
His hand at your waist twitches as you say so.
“But I know he also needs you,” you finish. Looking at Anasui plainly, you muster as much dignity as you possibly can in the moment, ignoring the feeling of cum between your thighs. Not important. If he looks there, it’s his problem, you say to yourself.
He raises an eyebrow.
“Lets… talk about it later. It’s been a long one. Please?” You ask.
His eyes soften on you, if only for a second. Then they take on the same aloof air as before, and he nods to Weather.
The latter gives you a peck on the cheek. Then, he slides his hands under your back and knees, and, as simple as picking up a ten pound bag of ice, scoops you up.
How? You yelp, scrabbling to grab onto his shoulders, babbling: “Oi, Weather you didn’t—“
“You want a free carry to the shower or not?” Anasui retorts.
This was unrelated, absolutely. You stick your tongue out at him.
“It’s nothing.”
Weather kisses your forehead: soft lips and eyes. Well. Hmph.
All the bubbling annoyance pops and you settle, grumbling, face still flushed as you both follow Anasui out. His steps are muffled by carpet, but you can tell he’s stomping.
“Jerk.”
“You wish.”
“If I wished you were more of an ass, we’d have a donkey as a roommate.”
“Maybe next time then we ought to really stretch you,” the pink haired man muses. “You’re still too coherent if you’re talking to us like this.”
“The hell does that mean?” You bark. Latent in it is the confusion and fear upping the pitch at the end— and it completely ruins the effect.
Damn it all.
Anasui smirks. You glare at him.
“Like what you talked about before..?” Weather asks. As your head snaps to him, Anasui nods.
“Later.”
“Maybe we should talk about it now, actually,” you say, pulse quickening. The hell did they…? You went out for a maximum of two hours?
Weather kisses you again, and you swat at him in good nature. Anasui shakes his head.
“Clean up and eat. But then, maybe.”
“I want to take care of you,” Weather murmurs, before you can contest. Sweet. Honest. He bumps his head lightly against yours.
Sighing, you let your eyes close. Your jaw clenches.
“Fine. But we will talk about it.”
Not that there was much to discuss. The faucet turns on, steam rising. Heat slowly soaks in. Comforting.
Once you couldn’t see, the two men exchanged a look: Weather’s eyes darken, stormlike; and Anasui’s lightening with a grim mischief, where they focused on your wracked form.
The one who you had wanted for so long, and the one who you had never considered. You had failed to recall how much the former loved to share, and how little the latter wanted to let anything go once in his grasp, unless completely and utterly unraveled.
hm. makeout sessions. makeout sessions that feel more sensual than the deed itself. how do we feel about em
(the fic will b out by tomorrow i promiseeeeee i just hated the buildup ;^;)
*suggestive
Nigh impossible to resist Caesar’s charm. Desperate to cling to your head, even as your heart twinges— his lips pressed against yours tenderly, one hand cradling your head. The other firmly set about your waist, the tip of his pinkie just barely brushes where the waistband of your underwear sits. Citrus scents the breeze. He presses you back lightly, almost as if he wants you to swoon so he has an excuse to sweep you off your feet and carry you to your hotel. Don’t you dare give him a reason, or you’ll wish you’d never met him.
Dio Brando’s ironic name is the furthest from your mind. Or even the shame you should feel letting him trail his fingers over your back, your neck, nails lightly scratching along your pulse point— the same area he’d drained others of their life from many times. But his mouth against your own is tender. Terribly so. The heat of your delectable blood rushes to your head, creating contrast to his cool body pushing yours into the mattress. Just let go. Let him bring you to the glory of his congregation, his fangs scratching your lip; tasting copper as sweet as his stolen silver spoon.
No souvenirs necessary, he’s all you needed— Jotaro’s strong, muscular body caging you just as soon as he set his bags down from Morioh. Lips meeting yours, your arms clumsily wrapping around his neck as he walks you back towards the wall. Just barely, your shoulder misses a framed picture. He tastes of salt, some strong liquor, snagging your bottom lip in his teeth briefly before kissing you again, his palm firmly against the small of your back, fingertips curling against the fabric of your shirt— clinging as if he wishes he could merge with you.
It never needs to be more. Mista could die happy just like this: spine sinking into the soft plush couch and you sitting on his lap, rough fingertips teasing at the hem of your shirt and waistband of your bottoms. As you press into him, he melts back; when his fingers tighten against your flesh, you gasp into his mouth. He’ll swallow every sound. Desperate, clinging, the humid Neapolitan summer air wrapped around your bare torsos. No one is allowed to see his beloved like this, lips parted and eyelids heavy. Shit. He’s in way, way too deep.
Jolyne’s never been one for hesitation, only careful planning— because the way her hands slide up your sides, pin you precisely to the wall by her thumbs, she had to have thought it out beforehand. But there’s no need to think— wrap your arms around her, as you taste her strawberry lime lip balm. She won’t expect if you want to turn the tables, whirling her around and cradling the back of her head from the brick. Really? You just did that? Whatever. Your girlfriend only leverages the position to hook her knee on your hip, pulling you as close to her as she could with the barrier of clothes.
Sunset stains the horizon pink. A string of saliva connecting your lips, Hot Pants’ eyes heavily lidded as she gazes at you— something dark glittering in them you can’t parse out. Your muscles positively tremble from how tightly you’ve been holding her. Perhaps it’s wishful thinking, but you swear she isn’t completely steady where she sits. Her knee rests between your thighs, chest nearly flush with yours; damn it all. She leans in again, hand firm on the base of your neck, the other on your hip. Teasing her about it later would be your funeral. Not that you would mind.
Hellooo!! I saw requests are open, and I have this idea that has been stuck in my head for DAYYYSSSS!!
(This is heavy angst- so feel free to disgard this request if you aren't comfortable!!)
I'm not sure who you write for, but I'd love to see La Squadra (or jofoes(?), idm!!) X reader where the reader is heavily injured/ill, and they have to be mercy killed since their illness/injury won't get any better- feel free to change anything and mess around with the request!! 😋
Ofc you don't have to do it!! Its a heavy topic, and I understand if you don't want to do it
Have a nice day!!! Take care of yourself ^^
⚠️Warnings!: Death, chronic illnesses, assassinations, Blood and wounds.⚠️
notes: I've always wanted some angst🤑 tried making reasons for why Reader would be in a situation like that I picked the jofoes because I don't know how the La squadra act much,,,I have trouble characterization them. Hope you enjoy!
DIO:
it was a pity for him, really. you had so much potential to be his permanent partner, at last you have been horribly mangled due to his status.
there’s no stand that can rescurcet the dead, nor a that can heal you. for you were nothing but a pile of organs and blood that stench stuck at the roof of his mouth, looking at him with eyes barely hanging their gaze.
his stand acted out of his command, halting the last moments he will have with you. DIO took the opportunity the World gave him and swiftly snuffed out the last of your life, he believes there's no use dwelling on possibilities. He'll move on, just focus on his true plan than luxuries like love.
Kars:
life was precious in the eyes of Kars, a humble flower deserves to be unharmed by outside forces, a small canine walking the streets, you are counted in this too. you had been stabbed, he couldn't walk away and leave you limping, rationalize any other solution was meaningless.
Humans are fragile, it's expected.
he knew he'll out live you tenfold, so might as well get it down. it was like plucking petals from a rose, a melancholic gesture.
Yoshikage Kira:
the moment Kira got news of your illness he knew that time was up, there couldn't be a more perfect alibi for his lover's disappearance. He summoned Killer queen and left you as the one object he desires. Yoshikage had considered to persevere Your hand in some kind resin.
though that would cost more attention, so he settled on studying your hand until its image was burned into his mind.
Diavolo/Doppio:
Diavolo glared down at every wound trying to mend it with his mind with no result, he can already imagine Doppio's devastation at the news. He calculated that stopping your nerves system would cost the least pain, so he unleashed King Crimson.
His stand predicted it, it's no use altering an already sealed fate. Diavolo will bury you quietly and inconspicuously, and Doppio shall take the any emotion he has and process it.
Pucci:
Pucci had searched his Whitesnake's disc collection time and time again for any stand that could cure you, unfortunately the best he has was more ordained for murder. Pucci had the awful idea in the back of his mind - - taking a life, but the groans he hears from make that thought more and more logical.
he will redeem this act, once he achieves Heaven.
for now, his last visit to you Pucci made it ordinary and mundane. and once you go to sleep you won't wake up again.
notes: HERES SOME GOOFY IMAGES TO LIGHTEN UP AFTER THIS
