Your best friend is totally not in love with you. Or a pervert who has his go-to gooner videos bookmarked on the laptop he lets you use.
Pairing: Down Bad!Choso x Childhood BSF!Reader
Content Warnings: MDNI 18+, virginity loss, praise, awkward pervert choso, lots of kissing, giggly sex, he goes pussydrunk at the end
WC: 2.8k
Contrary to popular expectation, Choso Kamo is not an inexperienced virgin loser.
He's just a virgin.
Which by some measure would mean he’s inexperienced – if he didn’t jerk it at every given moment to the extensive filth he has downloaded to all devices.
Okay. So maybe he’s a loser, too.
But he can’t help it!
It’s not his fault the only girl he’s ever talked to is you. His childhood best friend – the girl he’s known since diapers and block parties on the cul de sac down the street. The girl he can’t view as anything else, because sure, you have a pretty laugh and a pretty smile and reeeeal pretty tits, but you’re also.. y’know, you.
Not that that’s a bad thing!
In fact, you’re really sweet. An angel. The kind of person that could say something completely random and somehow not be misinterpreted or misconstrued because you’re just that lovely. Which is definitely what everyone at your uni thinks – not just him, of course. Not that he thinks about you. Not that he thinks you’re lovely. Or anything.
You do have pretty tits.
Speaking of you (and your pretty tits), you’re currently splayed out on his bed whining because you forgot your computer and you need to submit this very important report by tonight. What it’s about, he couldn't tell you. His brain stopped listening after the third whisper of his name, and something lower down roused up instead.
“Can I use your computer, Cho? Pleeease?”
“Y– yeah,” he stammers, voice cracking to an ungodly degree.
He tries to save himself with a cough. Miserably fails. Stands up and fumbles around his desk until he gets ahold of his laptop and offers it stiffly, avoiding eye contact like it’ll save him from melting into the ground.
You turn it on and input his password – the same one it’s always been since you were kids, because he told you like it was some sort of secret for the two of you to share, and never bothered to change it after.
And.. yup!
As if today couldn’t get any more embarrassing, there it is.
His “stash”, so to speak, sitting all nice and pretty on the tab the screen opens to.
“Uh,” you blink, eyes trailing over the files with mild confusion, “What’s ‘Special Folder #3’?”
Something inside Choso dies.
Actually, no – it’s him. He dies. His soul leaves his body and evaporates toward the ceiling and watches as you move the cursor closer to the tab that holds the worst, most depraved corners of his brain (dick?) in 1080p60 HD.
“Don’t–!”
He makes a last ditch launch for the device.
Too late.
Click.
The sound that follows might actually haunt him forever – a sharp, pornographic moan, echoing throughout the room. Followed by the low whir of his laptop fans trying desperately to process a full-screen titjob porno.
You freeze. He freezes. The whole room seems to freeze, and Choso’s blood runs cold, like he’s been caught in the act. Which, in a way, he has. Because you’re in his bed. Watching. And it’s his laptop. His porn.
“..oh.”
You pause, gaze darting from the screen to him.
He looks like he’s about to start sobbing. Or confess to a murder. Or both.
“Cho–”
“I– it’s not.. that’s– it’s–”
He sounds like an inflatable tube in the middle of summer with a hole poked through the plastic.
“Special folder number three?”
“Please don’t–”
“You.. name all of them, huh?”
“Could you please pause the video–”
You bite your lip, trying to hold back a laugh. But the way his face is turning red – whole face, beetroot red – is killing you.
“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed,” you coo, and he short-circuits.
Because you just called him cute. And you’re smiling. And you’re sitting pretty like an angel in his sheets with your legs tucked under you, wearing that top and those shorts, looking at him like he’s more than just the inexperienced virgin loser he likes to say he isn’t.
“Don’t say that,” he whispers, throat tight.
“Why not?”
“Because I–”
He cuts himself off with a press of his lips.
He’s so fucked.
If he admits to what’s sitting in his chest (and in his sweats), he’s fucked. If he doesn’t, he’s fucked.
He’s just.. fucked. Royally fucked.
You’ll never look at him the same way again.
You tilt your head, all soft and curious, and lean forward, and it takes every ounce of willpower in his pathetically horny soul not to look down your shirt.
“Because what, Cho?”
“Because I’ll–”
“Get hard?”
You grin, shutting his computer lightly, and setting it on the bedside table
He chokes.
“Wha– I–”
You shrug. “It’s not like I didn’t notice, y’know..”
You say it so casually – motioning with your hand in a general gesture – and Choso thinks maybe he is dead. Maybe he died when you clicked that tab and the angels made a mistake and put him in heaven, because all of a sudden you’re curling your fingers around his arm, pulling him just an inch closer, pressing your tits against his skin. And god, you’re soft. Plush lips parting with the prettiest smile he’s ever seen.
Something in his bones tells him to lean in and kiss you. Something stupid makes him do it. And he reels back the moment your lips brush against his, panicked.
“Shit! Fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to– well, I did. It’s just, I shouldn’t have, uh. Fuck.”
You just stare up at him. Then laugh, like you’re not disgusted, like you don’t want him to die for thinking about you like this.
“Choso,” you whisper. “You think I’d be sitting on your bed dressed like this all afternoon if I didn’t want you to kiss me?”
He opens his mouth. Closes it. Tries to formulate a sentence and ends up with nothing.
And then you roll your eyes and lean forward, pressing your lips to his once more. Light, then deeper, until it’s messy and desperate and he’s kissing you back like a man starved, tongue plunging in and swirling with yours. His hands hover, uncertain, before finally settling gentle on your waist, and god, you’re sweet. Your taste and your kiss and everything about you – even sweeter than he thought you’d be, somehow.
You pull back just enough to nip at his lower lip, drawing a sharp inhale from his throat.
“See?” you murmur against his mouth, voice all sultry and saccharine, “not so bad, right?”
He nods, quick and jerky, fingers flexing against your skin as he swallows down a nervous whine. “Yeah. I mean, no, uh.. it’s good.”
“That’s good,” you hum. Sliding one hand up to trace the line of his jaw, thumb pressing light against the side of his neck. “Just feel it. I’ve got you.”
You kiss him again, slower, guiding him with the press of your lips and a shift of bodies, until you’re straddling his thigh, rolling your hips ever so subtly. And he’s hard – painfully so – cock straining against the thin fabric of his sweats and twitching with every little move you make.
Choso breaks the kiss with a gasp, head thrown back. Breathing heavy.
“I.. fuck, I don’t know what I’m doing,” he heaves, looking back down at you. Hands trembling as they slide beneath your top, calloused fingers brushing the swell of your breasts.
“That’s okay,” you smile, arching into his touch. “We can go slow. Tell me what you want.”
Your fingers trail down his side, tapping gently at the waistband of his sweats. And like second nature, he gets up. Discards his clothes. Cock slapping against his stomach, curved and throbbing, tip flushed a pretty pinkish hue and leaking pre.
“You,” he breathes, slipping back into the bed just to wrap his arms around your body. “You. All of you. I want you.”
His confession hangs tender in the air – need and fear and adoration tangled up and hoarse in his throat.
"Okay."
You push him back gently, until he’s leaning against the headboard and you’re in his lap, his length pressing against your clothed cunt. And he doesn’t put up a fight. Just stares up at you, transfixed, as you peel off your top and let it drop to the floor. Nipples hardening under the cool air and the burn of his gaze.
His tongue darts out to wet his lips. Eyes flitting across your body, like he doesn’t know where to look. Or if he’s even allowed to.
“Touch me," you whisper. Taking his hands and guiding them to your chest. His big palms spread tentative against the underside of your breast, thumbs circling your nipples with hesitant strokes – and you sigh into it, rocking your hips down to grind against him. Giggling when a choked sound escapes his throat and he bucks up out of instinct.
“Like that?” he asks, voice strained. Thumbs pressing firmer, rolling your nipples around. Shifting to pinch lightly. The sensation sends tingles down your spine, shooting straight to your cunt.
“Yeah, just like that."
You lean down to capture his mouth again – kiss hungrier, teeth grazing, tongues sliding all wet and desperate as your hand slips between your body and his, palming his aching cock.
“Please,” he pants, breaking away to trail messy kisses down your neck, sucking a light mark at your collarbone. Uncoordinated in a sort of endearing way, unraveling right before your eyes.
His breath hitches as your fingers wrap around his length, barely meeting, stroking slow and firm from the base up to his leaky tip. He ruts desperately into the feeling. “F–uck,” he whines, eyes squeezing shut. “Feels.. fuck.”
“You like it?” you smile, squeezing gently just to tease. Watching as his face contorts in pleasure. You lean back to kick off your bottoms, too, pretending not to notice the way his eyes follow your panties, all slick with arousal.
His breath hitches when he sees your cunt. Murmurs a “you’re wet” beneath his breath, like it’s some sort of astounding discovery, sliding a finger along your soaked folds. Circling your clit with the rough pad of his thumb. When you gasp and grind down, he follows your rhythm – rubbing steady circles. A finger dipping inside so hesitantly it feels like he’s doing it on purpose. Edging you with the promise of pleasure.
“It's for you,” you whisper, pressing a gentle kiss to his jaw. “All for you, Cho.”
He blinks, eyes half lidded, before smiling up at you, sheepish. Finger delving deeper, mapping out your insides with the softest touch. Not skilled, completely intimate, and watching your every reaction. Adjusting based on the slightest sound. “You’re so pretty, baby.”
You shiver at the warmth behind those words. Stroking him faster, matching the pace he starts to set, room filling with the sounds of your shared breaths and the wet slide of skin. Tension builds, coiling tight in your stomach, before you pull back to meet his gaze. Both of you flushed, hearts beating the same slow rhythm.
He gnaws at his bottom lip for a moment, embarrassed, before speaking up. Breaking the intimacy of the moment with a weak whisper of your name.
“Can we, uh. Make love?”
You blink. Then your lips curve into the prettiest smile he’s ever seen as you nod.
And the second you do, his hands come around your waist. Laying you down oh-so gently, so your back is to the bed and he’s between your legs, hand around his cock. Head nudging gently between your folds, slicking itself with your wetness before pressing against your entrance.
Choso pauses, and for a moment, you wonder if this is some kinky thing he’s watched on the many files he has downloaded. Some sort of cruel edging he’s into. But his voice comes out with an unconfident waver, and you know there’s no way he’d be that mean.
“I, uh.. this is the right hole, right?”
You burst out laughing. Literally. Body trembling with amusement as his tip slips clumsily between your folds, slick and pre smearing together into a sopping mess.
Choso goes red in the face, lowering his head until his hair covers his eyes as he concentrates on where your bodies connect. Pushing in once you nod through tears of amusement.
You cut your own giggles off with a whine as he sinks in, inch by inch, all slow and careful and stretching you out with a burning kind of pleasure. He groans long and loud, almost in response, fingers digging into the sheets as he fights not to thrust in too abruptly.
“It’s tight,” he whispers, hoarse, “warm. Holy shiiit– my perfect pussy. Sorry. Perfect baby–”
He cups your cheek and kisses your forehead, leaning forward all awkward, like he’s afraid of pressing too hard even while bottomed out. And you laugh again. Sound reverberating through your body until he’s bucking into you with a whine.
“Am I doing okay?” he asks, tentative. Grinding his hips down and trying not to smile all cheesy when you meet him with a slow roll of your own.
You hum an affirmative, eyelids fluttering when his thrusts grow bolder at your encouragement – deeper, reacting to you. Pulling all the way out and then right back in, tip grinding against a spot that has your toes curling.
“Harder,” you breathe, nails digging into his shoulder. And he listens, like he always does. Slamming up into you with a grunt of your name, the bed creaking under the force. Your breasts bounce with each thrust, and he leans forward with a lovesick grin, sucking one nipple into his mouth. Tongue laving spit over your skin as he fucks into you steadily.
When you start to slip into your high, pussy fluttering around his cock and pulling him in deeper, he tucks his head into the crook of your neck and smiles against your skin.
“You're so good to me,” he whispers, voice adopting an almost delirious tone, “pretty baby. You don’t know how long I’ve dreamt about this, jerking off all day, thinking ‘bout you– oh, are you gonna cum?–”
His thumb slips down to rub at your clit, all messy and uncoordinated. And somehow, it works – your orgasm crashing over you in waves, a cry of his name swallowed by the sweetest kiss you’ve ever been granted. Walls fluttering helplessly around his pulsing length.
Choso follows seconds later, pulling out with a guttural groan. Cock drooling cum across the sheets – a laundry issue he’ll think about later, because all he can focus on right now is how good he feels, how pretty you look cumming just for him.
You collapse together in a tangled mess of sheets and limbs, breaths in sync as the high fades into a pleasant buzz. His arm drapes over your side in some sort of possessive, more-than-friends instinct, and you let him pull you close with a soft sigh.
And then post-nut clarity hits like a bitch.
Choso’s bottom lip trembles. Ears running hot as he drops his head, pressing a shaky kiss to your shoulder. Some sort of massive teddy bear trying to hide in your warmth.
You snort and thread your fingers through his hair.
“Hey,” you murmur. “It’s just me.”
And fuck, you’re right. That's the issue.
It’s you.
The girl who he used to share juice boxes and bike rides and inside jokes with. The girl who gave him spare pencils in middle school and study guides in high school and his first everything, now, in uni. The girl who’s known every version of him – even the inexperienced virgin loser one.
Oh.
He’s just an inexperienced loser now.
Maybe he’ll finally adopt the term, like a bucket list of things to work on.
“I like you,” he blurts out. “I really, really like you. A lot. God, you’re so pretty. Sorry.”
He’s not sure what he’s sorry about.
The fact that his confession ended up being an afterthought? Or maybe that he made love to you and didn’t know if he was inserting himself into the right hole? Or maybe the shame started before then, all the way back to when he first accidentally subjected you to his depravity via the porn folder on his laptop?
He shuts his eyes tight.
And then you laugh, pulling away so you can see his face. Kissing his eyelids in the softest, most tender way, like you can tell he’s overthinking again.
You probably can. You know him well.
“I like you too, Cho,” you coo.
Ah.
He whines in response, arms wrapping around you to pull you close, cuddling you against his chest. And you lean into his touch with a content hum, cheek over his pounding heart.
Fuck, he adores you.
“Also.. maybe password-protect your porn next time.”
It terrifies me that there’s so much raging passion in the lgbt+ community that insist on marginalizing asexuals and implying that asexuals don’t deserve to have safe spaces. There’s still so much acephobia so I just wanna know which blogs are genuinely supportive and a safe space for asexuals
Please share if possible to raise awareness. Sorry if this is off topic.
There is currently extremely deadly flooding in West Africa.
This is in part due to climate change messing up the balance of the dry and rainy seasons.
The floods have a ripple effect and are also causing landslides and other disasters.
People have died, and will continue to do so.
Here are some news Articles:
The Guardian
RFI
The Sun Nigeria
PM News Nigeria
Here are some charities you can donate to to help:
Nigeria: The Borgen Project
Ghana: NADMO
Côte d'ivoire: Disaster Relief
Togo and Benin are also severely affected. Please consider donating if you’re able or helping spread the word.
I have a slightly longer post on my blog that I'll be updating if anyone needs more information.
Thank you for sharing! If you wanted to donate to a cause, consider one of these!
Tw‼️: Sexual topics, children trafficking, disgusting language.
I don’t know if this has been on anyone’s fyp lately but vinted is selling children and the evidence is damning. In the screenshots I will provide below are listings with the photos is children’s toys but the description are much more sinister. These descriptions go on to describe the features of minors anywhere from 16 to less than 40 weeks old. And a large amount of them come with a disgusting word like “tight”. In some of the screenshots I provide it may seem unclear because it’s in another language or less descriptive but I will provide explanations below them. Also they are listed at ridiculously high prices.
In this image from a tik tok user, you notice the insane price first. 26000 pounds is a lot for a simple toy. But as you look at the description it gets worse. The person says, in French, that this item is “Young” “girl” with a Chinese origin.
This one is a lot more subtle besides the outrageous price. Preemie is kind of a backwater term to describe a child less than 40 weeks after birth. Obviously this is a quick Google search but I will list a source for what preemie means after the next screen shot.
In this image it’s also clear that the child has been sexually exploited with how ugly the language is. These children are listed like products like the evidence speaks for itself. All of these describers point to these being young vulnerable children sold to the highest bidder which is sick.
What can you do to help?
As far as bringing this up to Vinted you can spam their emails and socials to try and shed light on this situation. However, in a now deleted story they said this
I’m not sure what the best course of action would be for this situation but I won’t harp on your judgment call for this. However you can help please do it reblog this, tell a friend, do anything to spread awareness for these children.
Preemie:
Premature birth occurs in about 11 to 13 percent of pregnancies in the US. Almost 60 percent of twins, triplets, and other multiple deliveri
child: *becomes ashamed and embarrassed about the things they’re passionate about and doesn’t share their interests in fear of getting insulted about it*
parent: why aren’t you interested in anything? why don’t tell us anything anymore?
“The experiment was a success, the ‘shadow’ now sees everything.”
In the new animal hospital update we’ve got exciting new lore on the Corporations and somewhat of Ratthews background. According to his dialogue that you receive throughout the shifts 1-13, he has a sister who use to work in the corporation but then disappeared without a trace. Once he leaves on the 13th shift from sitting on your desk like a cutie he gives a key. Come to room 5 with that key, remove the poster, and voila!
