choso's such a quiet guy. stoic, unreadable, and practically like a statue of a man.
but now, with your hands wrapped in his hair, those tied sections coming loose between your fingers?
he shudders. moans into his hand, his knuckles whitening from how hard he's gripping the sheets. he begs for more, more, more. more hairpulling, more sweet words whispered into his ear, more you.
he gets especially needy like this when you wave the strap-on you own in front of his face, asking if he wants it tonight, and his eyes'll light up, mouth quivering as he says 'yes, please' and props himself on his elbows and knees for you.
how's he supposed to stay quiet when you're rutting deep against his insides, your soft tits pressed to his back, hands sliding up his chest to his throat?
"oh my—ngh—god," he sobs, tears streaming down his face, choked little cries spilling from his lips as he buries his head into the pillow, the sound muffled. "p—please—"
his body goes limp against the bed, knees nearly giving out as you keep thrusting the pretty pink silicone riiiiight against that spot that's got him whimpering your name, his cock strained and aching so heavily against his stomach, slapping against it with every push of your hips.
choso's done for when you squeeze his throat a little, fingernails digging in just enough to leave him gasping for air. your other hand snakes down to his cock, thumb circling tantalizingly slow along his slit, and you tell him what a good boy he is for you. how cute he sounds.
you pull his hair back, tightening your hold on his makeshift pigtails, just enough so his red-rimmed eyes can gaze into yours, fat droplets welling in them. "you gonna cum?" you murmur, tugging harder to punctuate your sentence.
"y—yes," he whines brokenly, and he releases seconds later, cock spurting out thick, hot bursts of cum, all against your hand, the bed, his tensed up stomach. choso moans out a string of 'thank you's', 'sosososo good,' eyes squeezed shut.
he heaves after he climaxes and whimpers quietly when you pull out, chest rising and falling unevenly, face flushed, that inky mark across his nose all smeared. you smile and kiss his cheek, and tell him how good he did.
the night continues until he's knocked into sleep from overstimulation, literally.
a/n ~ if u can’t tell, im ovulating
janainaart
kaledo-art
prguitarman
titsay
jacobvanloon
areudirty
turnnoffyourmind
