I love to write about series I am interested in, but feel free to request a fic for any series, theres a good chance I’m familiar with it.
I am open to writing really any scenario, but I really am a sucker for smut, its so fun to write. I’ll write about pretty much anything that is not included in the following list:
the alpha/omega stuff
scat/piss kinks
animals
large age gaps
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choso kamo
bed chem pt.1
f****d up
oblivious loser!choso pt.1
loser!choso pt.2
satoru gojo
tutor!gojo cant ignore tension
please request any characters you want me to write about next!
little random imagines and headcanons:
nanami is a soft dom
down bad gojo
plug!geto is hot
grimmjow jaegerjaquez
coming soon, in the drafts!
current fav series and games: jjk, bleach, nana, LADS, ikemen villans, mysme, kamisama kiss, hogwarts legacy, genshin, apothecary diaries, black butler
Didn't mean to send that!! ˚. ᵎᵎ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||| 0:10
childhood friend choso x fem reader ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚
Summary: choso and you have grown apart due to adulthood and he “accidentally” sends an explicit video..👀
Warnings: explicit sexual content
A/N: my other works ✎ masterlist (all art credits at the end)
The air in your small living room was quiet, thick with the dull exhaustion that only adulthood could bring.
You and Choso had grown up attached at the hip. Your parents were close friends, meaning childhood had been a blurred memory of shared dinners, quiet afternoons sitting on the porch, and Choso’s calm, devoted presence always trailing right beside you. He had always been protective and deeply gentle—equally comfortable taking care of you as he was hanging on your every word. But somewhere between high school graduation and your early twenties, the steady stream of daily life had quietly swept you apart.
Work took over. Adult responsibilities crept in. Suddenly, weeks turned into months without a single text, the easy comfort of your youth fading into a polite distance.
Until a random Tuesday night at 11:30 PM.
Your phone buzzed against the coffee table. You reached for it idly, expecting a work email or a promotional text, but Choso’s name flashed across the screen. Beneath it was a video file—no caption, no context.
Curious, you tapped play.
The screen lit up with a low, dimly lit view of a bedroom. It took your brain a second to register what you were looking at—until the audio kicked in. A low, raspy groan echoed from the speaker, raw and completely stripped of his usual composure.
It was Choso.
His shirt was off, broad chest slick with a light sheen of sweat, his hand moving in a steady, frantic rhythm between his legs. His dark hair was a wild mess around his flushed face, his jaw clenching as his dark eyes flickered between helpless need and a dark, hungry intensity.
"Y/N..." he rasped, his voice a dangerous, gravelly vibration that turned into a desperate whine at the end. "Ah... fuck, Y/N... look at what you do to me..."
Your heart hammered against your ribs. Your throat went completely dry. The video cut off abruptly mid-gasp, leaving you staring at a dark screen in absolute silence.
A second later, your phone practically exploded with messages.
Choso: OH MY GOD
Choso: Y/N PLEASE DELETE THAT
Choso: I AM SO SORRY
Choso: That was not meant for you. I am so fucking sorry. Please tell me you didn't watch it.
You stared at the panicking texts, your pulse racing. The sheer duality of his voice—the commanding rumble shifting so effortlessly into a desperate moan at the mention of your name—sent a sudden, white-hot shiver straight down your spine. You weren't angry. You were throbbing. A deep, heavy heat pooled low in your stomach, making your underwear uncomfortably damp within seconds.
You didn't reply right away. Instead, you hit replay.
Watching him undo himself to the thought of you, caught between total desperation and raw hunger, sent your breath hitching. Your hand slipped instinctively down the front of your sweatpants, fingers sliding beneath the lace of your underwear. The friction was instant. As Choso groaned your name on screen, you parted your thighs, your thumb finding your sensitive center, stroking in small, urgent circles.
You bit your lip to keep from making a sound in the empty apartment, watching the flex of his shoulders and the dark, intent look in his eyes over and over again until the tension coiled so tight it shattered. You arched off the couch, a soft, broken cry escaping your lips as a wave of intense pleasure washed through you, leaving you breathless and trembling.
Lying there, riding out the lingering ripples, you finally picked up your phone.
Y/N: Come over.
Choso: Y/N, please, I'm so embarrassed. I can explain, it was a mistake—I didn't mean to creep you out—
Y/N: Choso. Come over. Right now.
Ten minutes later, a heavy, hesitant knock sounded at your front door.
When you pulled it open, Choso was standing on the welcome mat, looking like a man caught between absolute mortification and a dark, lurking desire. He was wearing an oversized grey hoodie, his dark hair pulled back loosely, his pale skin flushed red all the way to the tips of his ears.
"Y/N, I am so sorry," he started, his voice a breathless, nervous rush as he stepped over the threshold. "I was... I don't even know what I was doing. It was a complete accident, I swear—I've missed you so much it's making me crazy, but I'll leave if you want—"
You didn't let him finish.
You grabbed the front of his hoodie, yanked him down, and dragged his lips to yours.
Choso let out a soft, startled gasp that instantly melted into a heavy, dark growl. He didn't hesitate. His large, warm hands slammed onto your waist, pulling you flush against his solid frame, and he kissed you back with a starved, possessive intensity that made your knees weak.
"You've been driving me insane," he rasped against the skin of your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse point before he pulled back, his dark eyes searching yours with sudden, sweet vulnerability. "You... you aren't mad? You liked it?"
"I loved it," you hummed, pushing him backward toward the bed. "Now sit down and let me show you."
Choso yielded instantly, sliding onto the edge of the mattress and looking up at you with wide, glossy eyes. The duality of him was intoxicating—one second he was a towering, dangerous force, and the next he was melting under your touch, letting you push his hoodie off his shoulders.
You straddled his lap, taking control. The friction was immediate, the ridge of his hard length pressing through his pants right against your soaked core. Choso let out a soft, helpless whine, his head dropping back against the headboard, exposing the long line of his throat to you.
"Y/N... please," he whimpered, his large hands resting gently on your thighs, completely submitting to your pace as you guided him inside you.
You sank down onto him slowly, stretching yourself around his thick length. Choso gasped, his chest heaving, his dark eyes blown wide as he looked up at you with pure, unadulterated devotion. "Ah... fuck, you feel so good... so tight..."
You set a slow, deliberate rhythm, riding him with complete authority. Choso was completely at your mercy, his fingers digging into the sheets, his back arching off the bed as he let out sweet, high-pitched sighs with every downward roll of your hips. He was vocal, his face flushed with a gorgeous, raw vulnerability that made your heart swell.
"Do you like being under me, Choso?" you purred, leaning down to trail your lips along his jaw.
"Yes," he panted helplessly, his hips twitching up to meet yours. "I'm yours... whatever you want, Y/N... just use me..."
You rewarded his submission with a sharp bite to his collarbone, driving him deeper into the mattress. But as the friction built and your own breath began to hitch in frantic gasps, you felt the shift in him.
The moment he felt you trembling, the soft, needy submissiveness in his eyes flipped into something fiercely protective and dominant.
Choso’s large hands slid from your thighs up to your waist with a firm, unyielding grip. Before you could even gasp, he flipped you beneath him in one fluid, powerful motion, pinning you to the mattress under his heavy, muscular frame.
"My turn," he rumbled against your ear, his voice dropping into that dark, gravelly register that vibrated straight through your spine.
He pinned both of your wrists above your head with a single hand, his grip solid and absolute. His dark eyes glowed in the dim light of your room, searching your face with a predatory intensity that took your breath away.
"Look at me," he commanded softly, his hips setting a deep, punishing pace from above that made your back arch off the bed. "I loved letting you take what you wanted, but now I want to see you break for me."
"Choso..." you sobbed, your head tossing back as the sudden change in dynamic sent a wave of electric heat straight to your center.
"Answer me, Y/N," he growled, leaning down so his chest pressed firmly against yours, trapping you completely. "You like it when I take control, too, don't you? You like knowing I can handle you whichever way I want?"
"Yes! Fuck, yes!" you gasped, your fingers clawing at the sheets where he held your hands pinned.
He rewarded your honesty with a deep, punishing kiss that tasted like iron and desperation. He released your wrists only to slide his hands beneath your hips, tilting you up to meet every relentless stroke. He was a master of contrast—one second whispering sweet, breathless praises against your lips, and the next driving into you with a brutal, desperate speed that left you completely ruined.
"You're mine," he ground out, his breath coming in harsh, heavy hitches. "Under me, over me... you don't get to pull away from me ever again."
The friction built into a white-hot crescendo. Your vision blurred as the internal coil tightened to its absolute limit. When your climax hit, it was violent—a total surrender that pulled a high-pitched cry from your lungs.
Seeing you shatter beneath him sent Choso straight over the edge. A low, guttural growl broke from his throat as he drove deep one last time, his entire frame shuddering as he poured his release inside you.
For a long minute, the room was silent except for the frantic sound of your shared breathing.
Choso slowly collapsed onto his side, instantly pulling you flush against his broad chest. The dangerous, dominant edge melted away in an instant, replaced by the soft, affectionate childhood friend you knew so well. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping around you with a protective, almost possessive warmth.
"I missed you so much," he whispered hoarsely into your skin, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to your shoulder. "Don't ever let us drift apart again."
You smiled, melting into his embrace, feeling the steady, heavy thud of his heart against your back as he held you close, ready to spend the rest of the night right where he belonged.
xo iris
A/N: art cred: Wichii & mochiküyo (all found on pinterest) | I didn't proof-read so if there are any mistakes pretend they aren't there.. 👀
summary. choso thinks he's a placeholder. you think you're too much to handle. a week has passed since you invited him over “to study,” and you and Choso somehow became inseparable—sharing hoodies, late-night anime, and kisses that last a little too long. the only problem? neither of you has actually asked: so… are we dating or not?
OR virgin!choso is determined to make a good boyfriend—one clumsy, reverent, pussydrúnk lesson at a time.
content. mdni, +18, fem! reader, fluff, light angst?, eventual smút, college au, virgin!choso, mutual pining, insecure choso and reader (they are both new to relationships), making oút, slight dry humpíng, first times (choso), oral (f!receiving), fingering, pussydrúnk choso, choso cum in his pants, praise, hair pulling.
word count. 9k (phew)
a/n. it’s finally here! after a lot of things (my doc was erased from my cloud, a ton of work—rip me and my hands—and like two writers' blocks later), the second part of "insta fumble" is finally done! i was going to post it on monday but i was so tired i passed out lol, i hope you all like it <3. also, this was as proofread as i could manage after working twelve hours a day this past week, lol! if you notice any mistakes, please let me know.
my 1k event is still open, too! feel free to request, i’ll start working on them this week alongside my bridgerton AU, hehe. love you all <3.
part 1
the room is quiet—well, as quiet as it can be with the wet, needy sounds of lips locking together, devouring in a way that feels less like affection and more like something starved, finally being fed.
kamo choso is currently too busy to even care that the door of his room is still half open, with you pressed against it.
everything feels different from the life choso knew just six days ago.
your mouth fits against his, your mouths keep finding each other, even when you part for air—soft, breathless misses before you reconnect again, like it’s something practiced, familiar. as if this isn’t the first time you’ve kissed him with your hands curled into the front of his hoodie.
because it isn’t.
it’s been six days since the event that choso labeled as the “insta fumble” even when everything turned out completely different.
six days of this—
your hand sliding up the back of his neck, fingers curling into the loose strands of his hair as you push him backwards, until his back hits the mattress with a soft bounce and you follow him down without breaking the kiss.
choso’s hands come up automatically, settling on your waist like they belong there now. because they do. because this is what happens every time you come over.
you kiss him. you climb into his bed like it’s yours.
you laugh when he gets distracted during whatever anime episode you put on because your fingers keep tracing the line of his jaw like you’re studying—the small, absent-minded touch always making his breath hitch, like he’s still not used to being handled so gently, especially by you.
you fall asleep. wake up an hour or two later, and he walks you to your dorm. It’s a routine now, simple moments engraved into your lives like they were always meant to exist.
you two fell into a familiar pace so fast neither of you realized. or, at least, you didnt notice. because choso’s mind has been a mess since the day he came over to your dorm.
your lips part against his with a quiet sigh, and he swallows the sound like it’s something precious, meant only for him. the kiss slows for half a second—soft, lingering, almost careful—before it deepens again, messy and uncoordinated in that way that makes his chest feel too tight.
his internal monologue is a frantic, spiraling mess, even as his hand tightens at your waist without him realizing it, fingertips pressing into the soft warmth there as if to keep you from slipping away.
we’ve seen each other every single day. every. single. day, he thinks, his nose brushing against the soft skin of your neck, inhaling that vanilla scent that now clings to all his hoodies. we went on that date. i held her hand. i didn't drop the chopsticks. i didn't even stutter that much...is this just a 'thing'? am i a 'thing'?
for choso, this past week has been a blur of swollen lips, the taste of your lip gloss, and the constant, electric hum of your skin against his.
he’s more confident in the kissing department, knowing how to make you do that needy, soft tone against his lips that he absolutely treasures every time it reaches his ears.
but outside of the privacy of his dorm? he’s still that same boy from the back row, terrified that if he asks the wrong question, the magic will vanish.
your knee presses between his thighs, and he swallows when you make a contented noise, the sound warm and pleased like you enjoy this—like you enjoy being with him.
the thought hits him so suddenly his lips stutter against yours.
do you?
your mouth moves against his again when he freezes, chasing his lips with a quiet sound of confusion, trying to pull him back in.
“cho?” you mumble softly, still half on top of him.
his brain is suddenly too loud.
you text him first sometimes. you steal his hoodies. you fall asleep on him.
you kissed him in public once—outside the convenience store near campus like it was nothing the sunday after your date.
you told him to drive safe on monday when he went to his family house.
you sent him a picture of your dinner on thursday.
yesterday, wednesday, he watched you sleep and almost cried because he didn't want to wake you up.
you’re here right now. on his bed. kissing him like you mean it.
so—
are you dating?
or are you just… doing this?
“did i do something wrong?” you ask quietly, your hand resting tenderly against his jaw.
and panic immediately replaces the question.
“no,” he blurts, maybe a little too fast. “no—no, i just—”
don’t know what we are.
he shakes his head, his hold on your waist tightening just a fraction. “i just forgot to review the assignment for tomorrow’s class,”
your eyes widen in surprise, realization washing over you.
“oh, shit, you are right! the assignment i used to invite you last week.”
both of you look at each other for a second before feeling the heat creeping up your necks after the memory of what exactly happened when choso came over to your dorm.
you clear your throat, letting out a quiet laugh. “i guess now i really need help with that.”
for a moment, choso forces his looping thoughts aside and lets the corners of his lips lift at your sudden frantic movement—already twisting out of his lap to reach for your backpack, your ipad, the charger tangled somewhere deep in your belongins.
“i’ve been so distracted i forgot,” you mumble, pushing your hair out of your face as you swipe the screen on. “so, will you help me? for real now, though.”
choso lets out a quiet sound—half breath, half laugh—and you glance over your shoulder at him where he’s still propped against the headboard, looking at you like he’s trying to memorize something.
like he is trying to carve every movement of yours in his memory, making you shuffle shyly at his piercing, adoring gaze. you are still not quite accustomed to someone looking at you like this.
“yeah,” he says after a second, voice softer now. “for real.”
you trudge back until your shoulder bumps his chest, settling against him like it’s the most natural thing in the world, ipad balanced on your thighs. he leans forward automatically, chin nearly brushing your temple as the two of you stare down at the screen.
this is normal, right?
studying together the night before class. sharing notes. sitting like this—close enough that he can feel the warmth of you through both your shirts.
his brain tries to circle back but then you tap the screen impatiently.
“cho,” you mumble, nudging him with your elbow. “question three?”
and just like that, his moment of spiral gets pushed back again. only you could do that, gain his focus out of his anxious thoughts, making him feel that maybe everything is alright. there’s nothing to be anxious about, right?
yeah, right.
you end up getting through exactly half of question three before it all goes to shit again.
it starts innocently enough, as you reread the sentence the question is about, his arm hooked loosely around your middle as he leans in to read over your shoulder, until you tilt your head to ask him something and your lips brush the underside of his jaw by accident.
you both freeze.
“…sorry,” you mumble, but you don’t move away.
he doesn’t either.
and then you’re turning your head just a little more and he’s meeting you halfway like it’s inevitable—like it’s muscle memory now—and suddenly the ipad is forgotten on your lap again.
“cho,” you whisper, like a warning you have no intention of following.
“i know,” he breathes back, even as his hand slides from your waist to your hip, pulling you closer.
you kiss him anyway. you can’t help yourself, not when choso is so close, helping you with patience and care— his touch careful, as if you are precious. you feel safe, cherished, wanted—something you never fully experienced before.
when he kisses you, it isn’t greedy, it’s reverent. curious. like he’s learning you on purpose. when he holds you, he doesn’t grip like he’s afraid you’ll leave, but like he’s content that you haven’t.
by the time you finally pull apart, you both are heaving faintly, the assignment still sitting unfinished between you.
you both stare at it for a moment.
“…we’re really bad at this,”
“we are,” he agrees quietly, amusement in his voice.
you both look at each other and let out a hushed laugh that brushes both of your skin as choso’s hold on you grows firmer and you lean your head on his shoulder.
still—he helps you finish it this time, his mind quiet while enjoying your weight pressed against his side.
it’s late by the time he walks you back to your dorm.
the hallway is quiet, lights dimmed into that soft yellow that makes everything feel slower, heavier. your fingers are curled loosely into the sleeve of his hoodie, tugging him along as you stop outside your door.
neither of you say anything at first. you both can feel the reluctance on saying goodbye for the night.
“i’ll see you tomorrow?” you ask after a second, doe like eyes looking at him with fondness that makes his body tingle.
he nods immediately. “in class.”
“and don’t forget we have to finish the season two of that anime,”
“of course, how could i?”
you give him that same sleepy smile you always do when you’re about to say goodnight, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, fingers slowly dragging lightly against the fabric of his hoodie before falling away.
“goodnight, cho.”
“goodnight.” he says your name in the same tone as always. gently, carefully, like he is saying a sacred prayer.
you lean in—quick, like it’s instinct—and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling back just as fast, already reaching for your keys. and then you’re gone, the door clicking shut behind you.
choso stands there for a moment. two. three.
…shit.
how is he supposed to act tomorrow in class? in front of everyone.
his eyes linger on your door like it might open again if he waits long enough, his teeth chewing softly at the inside of his lip, the twin hoops shifting with the nervous habit.
do people like you two sit next to each other? do they text during lectures? do they—does he—hold your hand? say hi like normal? pretend this—whatever this is—only exists behind closed doors?
his stomach drops somewhere near his shoes.
for the first time since this started six days ago, he realizes he has absolutely no idea what he’s allowed to do with you when other people are watching.
friday morning comes too fast. choso barely sleeps.
he wakes an hour before his alarm, staring at the ceiling as last night replays on a loop.
see you tomorrow.
you’d said it so casually. so normally. like there wasn’t hidden meaning for him to discover. because maybe there isnt. maybe that’s what you think of this.
something casual. possibly a secret, too.
he suddenly remembers that you are the sun, and he is just the moon that orbits around you— following, but never quite reaching you. his mind drifts back to a week before, to the image of him staring at your instagram story, dreaming of what it would feel like to be near you— to hear your laugh, to touch your skin.
the sole thought of losing you after he tasted you, actually touched you, felt your laugh against his lips and saw how cute you looked using his hoodie pulled at his heartstrings painfully.
he wants to know what you think of him. of this…situation.
situationship (noun) — the word people use when a relationship isn’t defined. at least, that’s what the internet said.
is this a situationship? what kind? the “we are knowing each other to date” or the “i just like to kiss you, let’s have fun while it last” situationship?
he suddenly feels dizzy. he might throw up. his mind can’t keep up with every anxious, apprehensive thought of his.
he changes shirts twice. then a third time.
too desperate. too plain. too try hard.
he can't decide if he has to wear jeans or something more sophisticated. he knows you have a variation in your wardrobe from comfy to something straight out of a magazine but he only has like two dress shirts and a pair of slacks he used at his brother's graduation last year.
why is this so difficult?
he settles on something neutral, same hairstyle as usual and tells himself to breathe.
it’s just a class, he repeats himself over and over again as he slings his backpack on his shoulder as he closes the door of his dorm room, and walks slowly towards his first lecture of the day, hands clammy and heart beating wildly on his chest.
he thinks of you for the first half of the day.
every hallway makes his pulse jump because it might be you turning the corner.
every time he changes buildings, his eyes trace the path at the slightest sign of you.
by 9:53 AM when he reaches the lecture hall, he’s not sure of what to expect.
he sits down on the back row, like always. he places his bag on the chair next to him without thinking. then immediately freezes.
is that presumptuous? does he have to save a seat? does he move it?
he doesn’t move it.
two minutes pass.
three.
four.
five—
and there you are. you walk in five minutes after him, as you always do. choso feels his pulse quicken at the sight of you today, even if he saw you these past week, he would always be amazed at how effortlessly beautiful you are.
choso sits up a little straighter without meaning to like an automatic response—his body recognizing you before his brain can catch up.
you scan the room, eyes briefly landing on him, and your face brightens in that gentle, familiar way that makes his chest feel tight.
you nod.
you nod at him and then smile like you just didn't nod like he’s—
like he’s just some guy you know. not someone who had your hands under his shirt last night. not someone whose hoodie you fell asleep in. not someone who walked you back to your dorm with your fingers clinging into his sleeve.
just someone you share a class with.
you start to walk up the stairs, and every step of yours has choso’s heart aching more and more, feeling a tight squeeze that left him breathless.
“hey, cho,” you greet when you get closer, voice gentle and saccharine, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder.
his eyes lock on yours, and oh fuck, even while breaking his heart, you look so pretty.
he realizes that you don't say his name the way you whisper it against his collarbone when you're drowsy— it’s more low, intimate, even softer than the tone you used now. he knows this voice, it’s the one you use when greeting people you are barely acquainted with.
classmates.
is he just that?
he swallows, fidgeting with the rings on his fingers to keep his voice from wavering. “hey.”
you glance at the chair beside him. he sees a hint of recognition flashing on your gaze but as soon as it appears, it's gone.
for half a second, he thinks you’re going to move his bag and slide in next to him. instead, you smile politely and step around the row, dropping into the seat beside one of your friends. a blonde, petite one that choso barely remembers her last name being nishimiya.
his bag stays where it is. empty chair. empty space. empty air. he stares at it until the professor walks in.
you’re laughing about something before the professor starts, a presentation in your other lecture. you look relaxed, bright, effortless. you don’t look like someone who stayed up past one in the morning sharing notes and laughing with him. you don’t look anywhere near his.
his stomach twists, gaze dancing across the lecture hall to keep him from looking at you, listening to your voice, but it’s impossible; he would always be drawn to you.
halfway through the professor’s greetings, someone from the row in front of you—someone choso vaguely recognizes— turns around.
“hey,” the guy says casually, smiling with all his perfect teeth and sharp canines. “you going to the delta party tonight?”
choso doesn’t mean to listen but he does anyway. he always does when it comes to you.
he can see from the corner of his eye how you tilt your head, pursing your lips.
“the one at the sorority house?”
“yeah, they’re doing some theme thing. it’s supposed to be big.”
there’s a pause on your part, a small one—like you are considering it.
you shrug lightly. “maybe. i don’t know yet.”
choso’s chest tightens. for a moment, he even thinks that his heart stopped.
maybe?
you already had plans, you were supposed to come over to his dorm. watch the anime you both left off the other night—season two, episode eight: “mash burnedead and the tall tower”. you said it. you reminded him.
so why—why is it a maybe?
he forces himself not to look at you. forces himself not to turn around like some possessive idiot and say you are busy even if his voice cracks and his hands tremble.
what right does he have?
what are we?
the question digs deeper this time because if you two were something, wouldn’t you say you already had plans? unless he’s just the weekday option, the private thing. something that only exists when the door clicks shut.
his mind spirals fast. too fast.
you laugh softly at something else the guy says, then turn back toward the front when the lecture properly begins. you don’t glance at him once.
choso doesn’t know if he’s allowed to feel weird about this. he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to feel anything at all.
the entire class feels like it's in slow motion. it’s normal—you’re acting normal. so normal it makes him feel abnormal for wanting more.
do you want to keep it casual? are you embarrassed? are you keeping your options open? did he misunderstand everything?
after class ends, people start shuffling out. he packs slowly, the sound of his heartbeat echoing on his eardrums.
say something. ask. do something.
before he can chicken out completely, he stands and walks toward you while you’re zipping your bag when his shadow falls over your desk.
you look up and your face lights up immediately, so gentle, warm and genuine.
“cho!” you beam, like you’re truly happy he came over.
his brain malfunctioned, the words failing him due to the fact that now this is the you he has grown familiar with over the past week. his mouth opens before his mind can even catch up.
“are we—” he starts, then stops, unsure.
you tilt your head, raising your eyebrows. “yes?”
he swallows and tries again. “are we still… seeing each other tonight?”
the question sounds fragile. smaller than he meant it to.
for beat too long, you look at him. then, your entire expression melts into something bright and excited.
“of course!” you chirp. “we need to finish the anime, we literally left off in the middle of the fight scene.”
you grin like that’s the most obvious thing in the world. like there was never any doubt.
“you… you’re not going to that party?”
you wrinkle your nose. “oh, that? i just said maybe because i didn’t want to be rude. i already have plans.” you smile at him again, gentle this time, and, without missing a beat, you add: “with you.”
the words settle deep, comforting and steady in choso's heart.
you adjust your bag and step closer without thinking, lowering your voice a little.
“i’ll come over around eight. is that okay?”
“yeah,” he mumbles feebly, still trying to keep up with you. “that’s okay.”
“‘kay! text me when you’re done with your classes, yeah?”
and then—like it’s the most natural thing in the world—you lightly brush your fingers against his sleeve before walking past him. just a small touch—hidden and subtle but stills sends a rush of heat down his whole body.
he stands there, finally feeling like breathing.
you’re choosing him.
he just hopes you keep doing it.
as you walk down the hall, the vibrant, effortless smile you’d flashed at choso fades just slightly, the edges of it drooping into something more pensive, more guarded.
it isn’t because you’re upset. far from it.
your heart is actually singing a frantic, happy little rhythm because he asked—he actually asked if you were still coming over. but the warmth of his presence fades into the cold, sterile air of the corridor, and the thoughts return. the heavy ones you’ve been trying to bury.
you’d genuinely thought this was how it was supposed to be. this quiet, new thing between you two.
your memory is a graveyard of boys who would whisper sweet nothings in your ear in the privacy of their dorms and then disregard your presence in front of others.
you remember the sting of reaching for a hand in a hallway and having the guy suddenly "adjust his backpack" to avoid the contact. that one guy who told you that texting him during the day was suffocating, or that sitting with him at lunch made him feel tied down.
so, you mastered the art of being low-maintenance—the girl who never reaches in public, never sends cute little memes between classes, and never, ever assumes the seat next to him in a lecture hall is yours.
you wanted to sit with choso but didn't want to assume. didn't want to make the same mistake. you genuinely think you are doing it right this time.
even if you feel like it's killing you inside.
because that’s how it always worked before.
"so, are you going to the delta party?" your friend, nishimiya momo, inquires as soon as you catch up to her on the way to your next lecture.
you shake your head, waving a hand in the air. "of course not. i've got plans."
momo makes a noise of acknowledgment, "yeah, your mystery boyfriend, right?" you blush, and she chuckles, blonde ponytails flapping in the air. "seriously, when are you going to tell us who he is? you just appeared on monday all giddy and told us you are seeing someone,"
"it's still new, momo."
"i call bullshit."
you bit your lip, feeling the tips of your ears burn. "it's been a week today.
"a week?! wait—wasn’t that the day of the kappa pi party you skipped??"
you think about a week ago, when he stopped being just someone you wondered about. the night your interest in him turned into something deeper.
that night, you had been so dominant. you liked the control you had—the first kiss, the way you steered his inexperience—because as long as you were the one in charge, he couldn't see how badly you needed him to stay.
for the first time in your life, you felt truly, viscerally wanted. you loved the way his entire world seemed to start and end with the way your lips moved against his.
"yeah," but you weren't going to enter into details on why you invited him or what you two did. "he asked me on a date after he came to my dorm."
your first date had been perfect in its simplicity. he’d taken you to a quiet bookstore cafe, the kind of place that smelled like vanilla and old paper. he’d pulled out your chair, his hands trembling slightly, and listened to you talk for hours like every word you said was a revelation. he didn't check his phone once. he didn't look around to see who was watching. he just looked at you.
but beneath all that, the old, jagged edges of your past are still drawing blood.
you know choso isn’t like that but what if he gets tired?
you’re waiting for the moment he realizes that you aren't just the girl he obviously idealized, but a real woman who overthinks and feels deeply.
you can only hope you’ll be enough this time.
"well, yeah, i get it now. you don't want to repeat what happened with those other pieces of trash," momo patted your shoulder, an understanding look on her face.
you try to smile back, but it comes out smaller than you intend. truth is, you’re not just afraid of the past repeating itself— you’re afraid of wanting someone this much and ruin it again.
if only you knew that while you were trying to keep this relationship safe, choso was spiraling about whether you two even were in one.
later that night, when you finally show up at his dorm, the tension in the room is a living thing—thick, sweet, and dangerously fragile.
choso is different. he’s quieter than usual, a little clingier, but you feel a certain distance that makes your heart ache.
right now, choso leans against his headboard in the dim lamplight, you tucked between his legs with your back to his chest as an ignored anime —the one you were supposed to finish—plays on his laptop. his arms circle your waist, chin on your shoulder, the cool metal of his eyebrow barbell grazing your skin whenever he moves but his mind is miles away from the screen.
every time he closes his eyes, he sees you waving at him in the lecture hall—that polite, distant wave that felt like a slap to the face. he keeps replaying the way you sat on your usual spot, the way you laughed with nishimiya like last night never happened, and most of all, that maybe you gave the guy who invited you to the party.
he’s convinced he’s just a placeholder, a weekday secret you’re already preparing to phase out.
but you? you’re spiraling in the exact opposite direction.
you feel his silence like a physical weight. he’s bored, you think, your heart sinking into your stomach. he finally got me, now the mystery is gone. he’s already over it.
you’re convinced his quietness is the beginning of the end—the part where he starts pulling away because you’ve become a routine instead of a conquest.
"cho..." you murmur, tilting your head back to look up at him. "you are too quiet and distracted."
he tenses, his grip on your waist holding you closer instinctively.
"i'm just... thinking," he utters, his voice deeper, thicker with the comfort of being alone with you.
"about?" you prompt, turning around in his arms so you're straddling his lap. you rest your palms on his chest, feeling the frantic, uneven beat of his heart.
"it's nothing, really."
but his eyes tell a different story. they look like they’re searching for a reason why you’re still here but you don't seem to see it.
he’s definitely bored, your mind screams. do something. keep him interested.
so, you do the only thing you know how to do to guarantee he stays—you take control. you kiss him until he melts.
the kiss is starving, your lips slot against his and the gentle clink of metal accompanies the movement, his lip piercing cool where they brush your mouth. choso matches your energy, his hands digging into your thighs, his mind finally, finally shutting up as the friction takes over.
you’re grinding down on his straining erection through his gray sweats, the wetness of your lace panties soaking through your own sweats. you’re using that dominance again, that shield of control, trying to prove to him—and yourself—that this is real.
"cho... please," you moan, head back, exposing the line of your throat. his lips find your skin instantly, and the cool glide of his lip rings trails down your neck in heated, open-mouthed kisses that make you shiver.
since that fateful day a week ago, neither of you engaged in anything more than kissing and some light petting. you, out of embarrassment because you couldn’t believe how you behaved that very first time with choso and him, out of fear of making you run away at his own clumsiness.
still, he feels that somehow, both of you need this. he knows he does.
"i've got you," he rasps, his world narrowing down to just the heat of you, the scent of your skin, and the terrifyingly beautiful reality that you are in his arms despite all.
choso hands slide swiftly under your shirt, and you reach for the waistband of his sweats—
SLAM!
no knock. just the door flying open, the doorknob hitting against the wall and rattling the fragile walls of the room dorm.
“choso, do you—oh—!”
movement freezes. the air in the room turns to ice.
you shriek, scrambling off choso’s lap and nearly falling off the bed, heat rushing to your face as you desperately smooth down your shirt. choso bolts upright, sitting up just as fast beside you, his face a shade of red that looks physically painful. his hands fly to cover the massive, aching bulge in his sweatpants.
yuuji turns around so quickly he almost slams back into the door, one hand over his eyes.
“I’M SO SORRY—” he blurts. “i didn’t know you had someone over, i swear! you never have someone!
“get out, yuuji!” choso roars, his voice cracking with a mix of rage and pure mortification.
“it’s okay,” you murmur quietly, still trying to calm down your racing heart.
there’s a pause.
“…can i turn around?”
“no.” choso grits, voice strained.
another pause.
“…okay.”
you let out a nervous laugh despite yourself, the absurdity of the situation breaking through the panic. “it’s okay,” you repeat, softer this time. “you can turn around.”
yuuji peeks between his fingers before fully turning back around—and then he brightens immediately, his jaw practically hitting the floor.
“wait!” he points a finger, his eyes wide. “i know you! you're the girl! the one from his lit class that he has been pining after.”
choso groans, burying his face in his hands as if he could disappear into his own palms and you turn to look at him with a look of curiosity.
"i'm yuuji," his brother announced, stepping further into the room with a huge, oblivious grin. "i didn't know my big brother finally had the guts to ask you out! this is awesome!"
you smiled with a hint of amusement as you told him your name.
"so, how long have you two been dating?"
neither of you miss a beat.
"a few days," you answered, at the exact same time choso mutters, "i don’t know."
the room goes silent. choso and you pause, looking at each other with equal faces of surprise.
"what?" you both question in unison.
"what do you mean 'a few days'?" choso asks, eyes looking in to yours helplessly, lost at what you just said. "i thought you... just..."
"just what, cho?" you pressed, heart sinking. "i've been at your dorm every night. i wear your hoodies. i thought that meant we were, you know, a thing."
yuuji let out a loud, bark-like laugh, completely ignoring the fact that his older brother looked like he wanted to spontaneously combust.
"man, talk about awkward timing!" yuuji exclaimed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "but seriously, maybe you guys should, like... talk? between the 'a few days' and the 'i don't know,' it’s a little confusing."
choso is still trying to wrap his head around your words.
a few days? you two had really been dating this whole time?
yuuji turned towards you, pointing a thumb at a mortified choso. "i’m just glad he finally did it. uncle ‘kuna is gonna be so stoked. he was getting seriously tired of hearing choso mumble about you over dinner. glad to see he's got some game after all!"
if only he knew.
you giggled despite yourself, the image of him talking to you to his family making your heart flutter on your chest.
"yuuji, get out."
the pink haired guy ignored his older brother, giving you a thumbs up. "good luck with him. he’s a little awkward, but he’s the best.”
“itadori yuuji!” choso hissed, voice an octave higher than usual, his face a shade of crimson that rivaled a beet.
"okay, okay! i’m going!” yuuji sighed, hands raised up in the air as a sign of peace. he flashed you a boyish grin. “it was so nice meeting you!”
“the pleasure is mine, yuuji,” you grinned back despite the mess on your mind.
the heavy thud of the door shutting left the room in a ringing silence. you looked at choso, the amusement fading into a lingering, heavy question.
“you… don’t know?”
“i— i thought— i didn’t want to assume,” he stammered, sitting up properly now, hands hovering uselessly in his lap. “these days have been great and—and i didn’t want to make you uncomfortable by asking if—if this was—”
“…choso.” your voice was gentler now. “i thought we were dating.”
he went still, eyes flaring open. “but you— in class you—”
“i didn’t want to bother you,” you explained, like it was obvious. “you never asked me to be your girlfriend, but you took me on a date, and we sleep together literally, and we see each other every day but every time i’ve acted like someone’s girlfriend in public they—”
you stopped, throat bobbing as you swallowed hard, the truth tasting bitter. “…they left.” you admitted after a second, quieter.
the panic in choso’s chest twisted into something else entirely—a sharp, protective ache. “i didn’t ask,” he began carefully, moving slightly closer to you to not break this vulnerable moment. “because i thought you were just… passing time with me. i thought if i asked what we were, you’d realize this was a mistake and leave.”
for a second, you just stared at each other, the weight of a week's worth of unnecessary anxiety finally crashing down. and then you let out a small, disbelieving laugh.
“so we’re just both stupid?”
a breath huffs out of him, a genuine smile finally breaking through his chagrin. “…it seems so.”
you shift closer, tentative this time. “do you want to be? dating, i mean.”
“yes,” he affirmed immediately. the certainty in his voice made your heart skip.
“good,” you murmured, nudging his knee with yours as you climbed back onto the mattress properly this time. “because i’ve been calling you my boyfriend in my head for like a week.”
his face burned, but his fingers laced with yours, warm and sure.
“and… maybe next friday,” you added after a beat, “i could sit next to you in class?”
the way he smiled, happiness and relief filling his features was so cute you wanted to kiss him breathless.
choso felt like his heart might actually give out from the sheer, overwhelming joy of it. he wouldn't have to save a seat for an empty bag anymore. he’d be saving it for you.
“i would like that,” he whispered, pulling you back into his space.
you tilt your head, looking up at him through your lashes. there’s something gentler in your expression now. something thoughtful.
“i’m sorry.” you whisper, cupping his jaw tenderly, your thumb brushing his lip piercing tenderly, carefully.
he blinks, leaning into your touch instinctively. “why for?”
“for making you think i was playing with you. i wasn’t. i just… i’m not used to something real.” your fingers skim over his jaw, his cheek, his lips. “i thought giving you space was the right thing. i didn’t want to overwhelm you.”
his expression softens instantly.
“you don’t overwhelm me,” he reassures, turning his head so he could kiss the palm of your hand. “you are everything i ever wanted.”
your breath catches. the space between you feels warmer, secure.
“i really like you, cho.”
the words settle between you, delicate but certain. choso’s heart almost stops for a moment because you, the girl he has been watching all this time and convinced himself was an ethereal dream he wasn't allowed to touch, is reciprocating his feelings.
you like him—awkward, quiet, overthinking him.
his hold adjusts around your waist, fingers digging slightly into the fabric of your shirt as if he’s checking to make sure you won't dissolve into mist.
“i really like you too.”
and when you smile, it’s shy and bright all at once—relief melting into something heavier, deeper.
your palm slides slowly up his chest, feeling the frantic, galloping rhythm of his heart beneath his hoodie. it’s a wild, matching tempo to your own.
the insecurity was gone, replaced by the solid, undeniable fact that you were his.
the shift in the room is instantaneous. the heavy weight of the conversation vanishes, replaced by a heat so thick it feels like you're breathing in steam.
just like a week ago, you took the first step.
“i think we were in the middle of…something” you whisper, fingers slipping beneath the hem of his hoodie.
he doesn't hesitate. he pulls the fabric over his head, discarding it on the floor, leaving him in nothing but those gray sweatpants that are strained nearly to the point of tearing now that the heat from a while ago returned by tenfold.
“we were, yeah,”
“so eager, baby,” your voice is low, sultry and choso feels himself twitching just at the sound.
you slide your hands down, palms flat against the heated skin of his stomach, until your fingers hook into the waistband of his sweats. he lets out a sharp, hitching breath when you tug them down, revealing the length of him, aching and ready.
you practically purr at the sight, eyes growing dark as you guide him back to sit on the edge of the bed. you started to move down his body, but the moment your head passed his waist, choso panicked when he realized your intentions. his hands flew to your shoulders, stopping you.
"no, no—wait," he stammered, his eyes wide and agitated. "you... you don't have to do that. not for me."
"i want to, cho."
"but you shouldn't be down there," he murmurs, his voice cracking with a raw, painful sincerity. "you shouldnt be on your knees for someone like me. i don't deserve—"
"choso," you cut him off, grabbing his wrists and pinning them to his sides. you looked him dead in the eye. "i'm not doing this because i have to. i'm doing this because i want to. i want to give my boyfriend his very first blowjob and god knows i’ve been thinking about seeing your pretty dick again since last week when i jerked you off,”
"you—you've been thinking about that?" he asks in a throaty voice, letting out a pathetic, broken moan at the things you're saying, his head falling back against the headboard for a second.
"of course i've been thinking about it." you press a kiss on his jaw. "now, just stay still, okay?"
but as you start to sink back down between his thighs, his hands find your waist this time, not stopping you out of rejection this time but guiding you up.
"wait," he breathes, voice thick and urgent. "if we're... if i'm your boyfriend... then i want to do it right. i want to treat you how you should be treated. you first. always you first."
you pout, your bottom lip wobbling in a way that almost makes his resolve crumble. "but cho, i really want to—"
"later," he promises, his thumb tracing your lip. "i promise. but please... let me do this for you."
when you nod, he quickly adjusts his sweats, tucking in his aching cock and lying you on your back on the bed, starting to feel your body temperature rising in anticipation of what he wants to do.
choso hovers over you, putting his legs in the middle of yours, kissing you slowly and avidly before lowering down between your thighs.
noticing the way his fingers slowly reach for the waistband of your sweats, you prop yourself on your elbows, voice soft and reassuring. “cho, are you sure?”
he looks at you through his eyelashes, eyes dark and foggy and full of determination. “i want to. please.”
you smile down at him, the sight of him sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. “okay, cho.”
he is clumsy; there is no hiding it. his fingers fumble with the waistband of your sweats, his breath hitching as he steadily, almost reverently, peels the fabric down.
he slides them off your legs and carefully puts them on the floor, making your heart —and pussy—throb at how cute he is. when he sees the lace of your panties—so cute and already with a damp spot in the center that has him leaking already—he stops for a heartbeat, looking at you shyly.
"help me, please?" he mumbled, the sound small, vulnerable. "i want to make you feel good but I don't know how to do this. tell me what to do."
you reach down, running your fingers through his dark hair and pulling him closer until his face is inches from your gushing . "start through the lace, cho," your voice a sweet command. "just use your mouth. softly."
he obeys with a terrifying focus, attentively lifting your thighs to rest them on his shoulders and pressing his face into you, breathing in your scent before his tongue finds you through the damp fabric.
he’s hesitant at first, poking out the tip of his tongue and pressing it sloppily. the contact is electric, and as he drags the tip of his tongue upward, he finds the small, swollen peak of you.
he pauses, a low, confused hum vibrating against your skin—the sudden puffiness of your clit beneath the damp fabric feels foreign and incredible.
he presses down firmly to test the sensation, and your hips buck off the bed, back arching in a sharp, desperate curve as your fingers tangle deep into his dark hair, pulling him closer.
choso freezes, his head snapping up, and he looks at you with dilated, alarmed eyes.
"did i hurt you? i—i didn't mean to—"
"no, cho," you gasp, the sound broken by a needy moan that fills the room. "that’s it. that’s my clit... it feels so good. don't stop, please."
the tension melts from his face, replaced quickly by a newfound, dark intensity.
he doesn't just poke at you anymore, he grows bolder, lashing his tongue in a long, firm stripe from the base of your clothed folds all the way up to your sensitive bud. his movements become heavier as his tongue works the fabric until the lace is heavy and soaked.
“mhm, yeah, cho,” you whimper, thighs quivering when you catch sight of his tongue swirling around your clothed entrance.
watching him learn is almost as intoxicating as the sensation itself. choso moves with a frantic sort of reverence, his fingers trembling slightly as they hook into the edges of the lace.
he looks up at you for a silent beat of permission, and when you give a small, encouraging nod, he finally peels the fabric aside, baring you completely to the cool air of the room and the fervour of his gaze.
letting out a shaky, broken breath, his eyes track the way you glisten, how you splosh out in even more slick. "so pretty," he muses, his voice dying in his throat as he leans back in.
"use your tongue, cho," you murmur, voice dropping into that low, guiding register that makes his pupils blow wide. "long, slow strokes. taste me."
he doesn't hesitate this time. he dives in, his tongue sweeping over you in a broad, hungry lap that gathers your sweetness. the moment he actually tastes you—the real, salt-and-sugar tang of your arousal—he makes a low, guttural sound of pure discovery. it’s a messy, wet noise of approval that vibrates right against your most sensitive nerves.
“this is so sweet,” his voice if muffled against your puffy pussylips, pressing a loud smooch there before sticking his tongue and gathering more of your arousal, a little of it trickling down the corners of his lips. “better that anything i’ve tasted,”
you let out a soft mewl, fingers gripping tight on his hair, making him moan in response. “fuck, cho.”
noticing the way your breath hitches when he twirls his tongue around your clit, he begins to repeat the motion with increasing pressure.
he’s absolutely pussydrunk now, his face slick with your juices, focus so singular that the rest of the world has clearly ceased to exist, only wanting to taste more of you, to gather every drop that drips from your pretty pussy.
he looks up at you mid-stroke, his eyes completely blown out, unfocused and glazed with a mix of lust and devotion.
"i never want to stop tasting you," he whines, before burying his face back into you with a desperation that borders on feral, his tongue lashing at you in long, heavy slurps that echo wetly in the quiet room.
the sound is filthy—a constant, rhythmic shuck-slurp as he laps at your folds, tongue curling and flattening against your clit with a bruising pressure that makes your toes curl into the sheets.
"please don’t—," you groan, your voice cracking as you watch his dark head move between your thighs, already blissed out of your mind. "look at you, getting so messy for me. you like the taste, don't you, baby?”
he answers with a muffled, vibrating moan against your skin, his hands migrating from your hips to your thighs, his knuckles white as he digs them into your plum skin.
he’s panting, his breath coming in hot, ragged hitches against your slick skin, but he refuses to pull away. even when he needs to breathe, he only turns his head slightly, sucking in a lungful of air before diving right back in, his labret piercings clicking faintly against your inner thigh.
“s’good. so fucking good.” he babbles against your entrance, flat tongue pressing hard and making your thighs close around his head.
“cho—fuck, pleaseplease,”
he can’t believe it. he is making a mess out of you only with his tongue, his face is buried on your pretty pussy and he can die a happy man now.
…wait. no. he still has to have you sit on his face. only then can he die, after he masters the art of eating your delicious cunt.
"you're doing so good, baby," you praise, your hand coming down to cup the back of his neck, pushing him deeper. "such a fast learner—yes, there—, my pretty boy."
seeing him like this, so vulnerable and eager, ignites a dark, possessive feeling in your chest. he’s never done this before, you think, your fingers tightening in his hair. the thought that you are the first—the only—person to ever have his face between her thighs, to have his mouth stained with your scent, makes you feel powerful.
"you’re my good boy, aren't you?"
"yours," he breaths, the word low and broken as he drags his tongue in a long, punishing stripe from your opening to your clit. "only... yours."
you need more—you need the friction of him inside you, even if it’s just his hand, and you desperately want to see his face.
"wait, cho... stop for a second," you gasp, your fingers tugging gently at his hair to pull him up.
he whimpers, a low, needy sound of protest, but he obeys, lifting his head. he looks absolutely wrecked; his chin is dripping, his silver labret hoops are slick and shining, and his eyes are so blown out they’re almost entirely black.
"use your fingers now, baby," you whisper, voice thick and honeyed. "i want to kiss my cute boyfriend."
his breath hitches at the title. he reaches down, hand shaking so much he misses your opening at first, his knuckles bumping awkwardly against your thigh. "here? is this—is this okay?" he asks, his voice cracking with nerves.
"yes, right there. use two fingers, cho.” you moan, your hand going to his neck. he slides two fingers inside, but he's stiff, moving them in a straight, hesitant line.
"like this?" he hesitates, peering up at you with unsure, worried eyes. "am i doing it right?"
"yeah," you gasp, your head tossing back as you become a moaning mess beneath him, fingers tangling on his hair while his thick fingers strecth you out deliciously. "curl them a little and move them... please."
he tries to follow the instruction, starting with a clumsy rhythm and, driven by a raw, desperate need to hear you scream his name, he finds a spot deep inside that makes your entire body lock.
"yes, yes, just like that," you heave, pulling him into a deep, filthy kiss.
the taste of yourself on his lips is intoxicating, your back arching and pressing your chest against his as he groans into the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours as saliva and your own sweetness mix between your mouths in a messy, desperate friction that mirrors the way his fingers are now rhythmically pumping inside you.
“cho, i’m close, baby—,” you pant breathlessly, pulsing around his fingers, “your—your thumb, press my clit with it."
you kiss him again as his thumb finds your bloated bundle of nerves he’d been lapping at moments before, pressing down hard, circling it in sync with his internal thrusts, and you let out a broken, muffled scream against his lips.
when he finally pulls away, a thick, silver string of saliva remains, connecting your mouths for a heartbeat before it snaps, trailing down his wet chin.
he stares at you, his chest rising and falling franctic and, driven by the sound of your needy whimpers, he goes back down, but he doesn't take his fingers out. instead, he spreads you wide with his hand, his fingers working a relentless, soaking rhythm inside you while his tongue finds your clit again.
“choso!”
the combination is lethal. he’s lapping at you with a broad, hungry tongue, slurping up the mess his fingers are churning out.
the sound is obscene—the wet squelch! of his hand and the heavy slurp! of his mouth working in tandem.
“cum, please. wanna taste it aaall,” he is slurring against your slippery pussy, sucking on your clit hard enough to make you cry out in pleasure.
you can’t hold it back anymore—the overstimulation of his mouth and hand sends a violent wave of pleasure that crashes on you.
"’m cummin’, ‘m cummin’” you chant, body going taut. “cho—choso!"
your hips snap upward, locking in a desperate, trembling arch as your dewy walls pulse around his fingers and tongue, gushing a hot, shameless flood of arousal that coats his hand and pours over his chin. choso doesn’t pull away, he buries his face, tongue lapping up every drop of your creamy release, dragging it across your twitching folds to drive you through your orgasm.
“f—fuck, me too.”
choso lets out a choked, pained cry against your skin, his body stiffening as his own climax rips through him. he ruts one time against your thigh, his hips jerking helplessly as he ruins his own pants, breath coming in ragged, sobbing gasps as he finally collapses between your legs, his soaked fingers still buried deep inside you.
he stays there for a long moment, his face still pressed into your sticky skin, chin glistening, and eyes glassy.
"i... i couldn't help it," he quaked, voice trembling as he finally pulls back to look at you— his lips are a dark, bruised red from the pressure of his mouth against you.
you look down, noticing the heavy, damp spot radiating from his sweats where he’s clearly ruined himself just from the sound of your voice and the taste of your cunt. you let out a small, playful huff, your lips pulling into a genuine pout.
"cho," you complain softly, reaching out to pull him towards your face, his fingers sliding out of you with a wet pop, making you hiss at the loss. "i really wanted to suck you off.”
"i'm sorry," he murmurs, small and shy as he rubs the back of his neck, the silver hoops in his lip twitching with his bashful smile. he leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. "i just... i've never felt anything like that. you were so loud, and you looked so beautiful, i couldn't hold it back."
"mhm, i guess i’ll let it pass this time.”
he reaches up, his dry fingers gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "we have all the time in the world, don't we? we’re going to be together for a long time... right?"
the sincerity in his dark eyes hits you harder than the orgasm did. the possessive, territorial heat in your chest flares up again—the reminder that he’s yours, that he’s learning everything for the first time with you.
he is not like any other guy. he is choso. your choso.
you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a slow, lingering kiss that tastes like you and affection.
"damn right we are," you mumble against his lips, a grin finally replacing your pout. "and next time, i'm not letting you off that easy. you're going to stay still for every single second of what i do to you."
his dark eyes are still soft, shimmering with a mix of lingering lust and pure, unadulterated adoration. he smiles back at you, pressing a tiny kiss on your cheek.
Synopsis. Your best friend, Shoko, drags you to your very first frat party. What happens when you spill your drink on a man who just so happens to be your favorite camboy, whom you've spent hours watching and hundreds of dollars donating to?
Pairing. Ryomen Sukuna x Reader
Chapter contains: Fratboy!Camboy!Sukuna x Shy!Reader, college AU, jealous reader, F&M masturbation, slight praise and degradation, exhibition if you squint, recording, smut with plot
WC. 7.5k
A/N: ignore the picture change tumblr keeps saying its mature content gosh
18+ NSFW/MDNI
Art credits to @/Sayaarts on Instagram
part 1 … part 2 … part 3 ….
You and Shoko had been best friends since primary school, from playing in sandboxes to going to prom together. You had always been a shy kid, never being able to make friends easily, until Shoko came around.
You two had met when you were both 5 on the playground on a summer afternoon– Shoko’s ball just happened to roll over to where you were sitting on a bench, all alone. Shoko– being Shoko– invited you to play, regardless of how reluctant you were. Ever since that day, you two quickly became best friends. You both attended the same schools from primary school though high school, and even college.
Over the years, Shoko made friends easily, whereas you sat back quietly. You didn't mind; you liked having just Shoko. Over the course of the years, Shoko introduced you to all her friends, but it never stuck. It's not that they didn't like you; it was that you just weren't interested in the same things.
Even though Shoko had other friends, you two were best friends; you guys shared everything, from clothes to the most TMI conversations.
Just like this one.
“I’m telling you, we could turn this into a cute little double date! C’mon!” Shoko exclaimed.
All you could do was scoff.
Shoko had gotten asked out by some guy from her Microbiology class and was insisting that he set you up with one of his friends.
“I said no! I don't wanna go on a double date with you and some random guys!” You retorted, getting slightly annoying with the conversation now.
Shoko groaned, flopping herself down on the couch in your shared apartment, “Please! I swear you've literally never even been on a date before.”
You opened your mouth to reply, only to close it in defeat. Shoko was right. You've never been on a date– hell, you've never even had a boyfriend. You were too busy to date because one, you were too focused on studying, and two, you just didn't feel like it.
Taking note of your lack of response, “Exactly! Please, just try it out! How will you know you won't like it if you've even been on one?”
You didn't reply.
“Ugh! Please! It’ll be fun, I swear! I've always wanted to go on a double date with you!”
Crossing your arms over your chest, “No. There's no point in me going– plus I'm not even sure that I’d like the guy.”
Your response made Shoko let out a grumble, "That's exactly the point of the date, getting to know the guy!” She sat up from her spot on the couch, a grin slowly appearing on her face as she nudged your shoulder with her elbow. “Who knows, maybe you two might get a little y’know…”
You lightly slapped away her hand, “Ew! Gross, Shoko!”
“Oh, c’mon! You've never been on a date and you haven't even gotten laid before– do you want to die alone?” Both you and Shoko groaned. “We’re freshmen! In college! With our own apartment! And you don’t wanna go out? Seriously, loosen up a little! At least try to get laid.”
You gasp at her sudden vulgar statement, slapping her shoulder once more.
“Shoko!”
The girl sitting across from you burst out laughing, “What? Am I wrong?” She said giggling. “Wouldn’t it feel better to get a real man down there?”
You got flustered, eyes darting around the room at the sudden turn of conversation.
Another loud giggle erupted from Shoko, “What? Don't tell me…” Her giggles stopped as she smacked her palm against her mouth after letting out the loudest gasp. “You’ve never masturbated?!”
You were stunned by her sudden question, “Oh my gosh, Shoko! You can't just ask things like that!” You threw a pillow at her face, missing after she moved her head out the way.
“What? It's a serious question!” She replied, giggles coming out again as she held her hands up to block the flying pillows being thrown at her. “We’ve changed in front of each other, we’ve literally showered together! Oh, but nooo you cross the line at me asking you if you masturbate!”
You stopped your pillow attack, “Because It's weird!" You mumbled, avoiding her cruel, teasing eye contact.
Shoko leaned in, her face next to yours, “Holy shit, you’ve actually never masturbated?” She practically laughed.
“Ugh, shut up, Shoko!” You shoved a pillow in her face, embarrassed at your lack of sexual experience being called out so suddenly.
Shoko grabbed the pillow, tossing it behind her along with the rest of the pillows you threw at her, which were now laying on the ground. “Honey, we have got to go to the store– oh I am so buying you a vibrating dildo.”
Too stunned to reply, you could only toss one last pillow at Shoko before leaving and returning to your room. You could hear Shokos mocking laughing from the living room and you sat down at your desk.
.
.
Hours passed by. You hadn't left your room since that conversation. You didn't want to face Shoko and hear another cheeky comment from her, although that didn't stop her. Throughout the rest of the day Shoko was sending you texts that consisted of links to sex stores followed by her own reviews of the toys themself.
The girl really had no shame.
You were now sitting in your bed, bored out of your mind when another notification from Shoko popped up on your phone, a link with a preview that read: “How to Masturbate for Dummies.”
Link attachment
im going to block you
aw im just trying to give u some inspo
blocked
It was just a few minutes past midnight, your room was dim except for the street lights illuminating the room through your window.
Were you really that boring? Just because you hadn't had a boyfriend before didn't mean you were boring.
Right?
Plus, it wasn't like you hadn't tried to masturbate, either– there had been times where you tried, it just didn't feel pleasurable. You bit your lip, the sudden urge to prove yourself to Shoko washed over you as you switched tabs on your phone, moving over to google– wait no, Pornhub was too corny, not to mention the fact that you had tried it a while back, only to get disgusted by the amount of fakeness involved.
Seriously, what was up with all the step-sister stuff?
So, taking Pornhub off the list, you went to the next best thing. Twitter.
You already had Twitter installed, but you never used it.
Not knowing the next step, you clicked the search bar, lightly tapping your finger against the side of your phone, thinking about what to search. That went on for a good minute.
Not allowing yourself to give up, you settled for the most basic thing ever. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard before mustering up the courage to write it out.
Porn
The most straightforward thing ever. What else could you write? Specifics? You didn’t even know what you liked.
Clicking enter– your phone lit up with pictures and videos– obscene sounds played in your headphones. The first video was straight up porn, a video shot on a location that was clearly set up to film things like this. You scrolled down, not wanting to watch an obvious porn scene, hence the fact that you switched on Twitter.
The next video was different. You could tell it was shot from a phone, the camera quality was grainy, but not too grainy that you couldn't see what was going on. The room was dark, a small lamp sitting on the bedside table was illuminating the room, allowing you to see them. It was a naked couple, the woman was laying flat on the bed, her legs spread open while the man was kneeling in front of her, his hard dick in his hands. The phone was propped up against something as it was angled from the side, allowing you to see their bodies but not their face. Turning your volume up, you pressed play.
As the video played, you could hear the faint sound of a fan running in the background along with the bed slightly creaking with every move from the man. You slid your free hand down your body, tracing the waistband of your panties while your other hand gripped the phone tightly. The man held his dick in his hand, lightly stroking it while his free hand held onto her thigh, holding it down so the phone could catch the way her wet pussy clenched around nothing.
The man gave himself one final stroke before guiding the tip inside her, causing a low moan to erupt from her.
Now, slipping your hand inside of your panties, you took your index finger and began to rub up and down your slit– only to find a big problem.
You weren't wet.
Dry. You were dry. Not even damp. Dry. Parched. Arid. Desiccated. Dehydrated. What the fuck?
You laid there, hand in your panties while the other one held your phone up, watching the couple on your screen go at it.’ Thrusts so slow; it couldn’t even count as fucking. The man was practically pulling out half an inch every 5 seconds, both of them panting– not moaning, not even panting hard. You yanked your hand out your panties, annoyed by the state of your ‘arousal.’
Letting out an annoyed grumble, you exited out the video, scrolling through the search to find something else, only to be met with disappointment.
Scrolling past videos that consisted of poor camera quality, dim lighting, terrible angles, strange kinks, fake and overexaggerated moaning. You were about to close the app and go to bed feeling defeated, but then you saw it. You tried to swipe out the app, only to fail and accidentally swipe down one last time, seeing it.
No captions, no hashtags, no nothing. The video played by itself, starting off black until whoever was holding the phone decided to hold it up, angling it down towards their lap, showcasing a large bulge in their black sweatpants. The camera quality was clear, slightly grainy due to the fact that the room was dark, the only source of light coming from somewhere off camera. Not hearing anything, you turned the volume up just a little bit, wondering if anyone was talking.
That's when you heard it.
The man in the video was whispering, muttering small curses as he reached his hand out to rub against the bulge that was somehow growing bigger in his sweatpants. The man hooked his thumb onto pants, pulling it down a little so it could rest underneath his thighs, allowing you to see the bulge more clearly. A visible dark wet spot on the tip was staining the dark blue material of his boxers.
It wasn't until then when you decided to snake a hand back down your stomach, reaching into your panties again.
You bit your lip, rubbing your clit to the same pace the man was rubbing his thumb over the tip of his dick through his boxers. You were wet. You could feel your arousal building up, your clit slowly getting more sensitive with every swipe of your fingers.
You didn't think you could get any more wetter. That was until he pulled his boxers off. There it was, standing straight up– the tip of it an angry red while the rest of him was a shade lighter. Eyes focused on the way he was stoking his cock, you could see a long vein along the underside of it. It was bulging. He was big. Bigger than all the other guys you had seen in the other videos.
His dick was… pretty.
Not caring about keeping up with his pace anymore, you began rubbing small circles on your clit again, only to be pulled out of your daze when he finally spoke.
“Good fucking girl.” Your fingers stilled, too shocked to keep going at the sudden realization of how deep his voice was. It wasn't anything special, his voice sounded like every other guy, but there was just something about the way he said it. Thighs clamping themselves together, smushing your fingers in between them as he spoke again, “Fuck… look at you, so wet. Fucking pathetic.”
You bit your lip harder at the end of his sentence, at the same time his thumb came up to swipe away the precum forming at his tip, gliding it down his length.
“Go ahead, touch yourself.” Your legs instinctively opened, fingers going back to your clit. “That’s right… fuck, so good,” A low moan erupted out the man, “Touching yourself while yer watching me stroke my cock, imagining it was me rubbing against you instead of your fingers.”
You rubbed harder, your middle and index finger applying more pressure with every word he said.
“That’s right.” He huffed, pumping his length one last time before settling his hand at the base of his dick, holding it up while moving the phone slightly down, letting the camera sit against his clothed stomach while the fabric of his sweatshirt rubbed against the mic.
The new angle gave you an even better view of his dick– the flushed tip was glistening in the dim light, each vein that ran up and down his length came more into view.
It was so… fucking hot.
The way his hand was sliding up and down his cock, so slow you knew it had to be irritating.
Oh and his hands…
Even though he was wearing what appeared to be a hoodie, the bunched up fabric was sitting atop his wrist, letting you see all the delicious veins that sat on top of his hand, his hands were clean along with his fingernails that were neatly trimmed.
Long, thick, fingers… you wondered what it would feel like if it was his fingers rubbing your clit instead of your own…
The thought itself had you rubbing harder— watching the way he was swiping his thumb along the tip of his dick– imagining it was your clit instead, along with his quiet moans, obvious that he wasn’t trying to keep quiet on purpose.
“Go ahead, keep touching yourself,” a low, breathy exhale came out of him as his grip visibly tightened on his cock. “Fuck… now why don’t you go ahead and slip a finger in that sweet little pussy f’me.”
Feeling your face heat up at his instructions, you slid your fingers down from your clit, sliding down your slit until you reached the opening. Already slick with arousal, you slowly rubbed your index finger around the hole before popping it in.
A low moan escaped you as you bit your lip at the sudden intrusion, trying to not wake Shoko.
Wiggling the tip of your finger inside, you managed to get it up to your first knuckle before stilling. You had tried to finger yourself before, but it still didn't feel pleasurable. So why was this time different? Was it because you were actually wet? Or was it because of him?
Finger slipping farther inside, you waited for his next instruction as you watched him twist around the head of his cock.
“Mhmm… that's right,” He let out a breathy moan before uttering his next instruction. “Good… now keep going, shove it all the way in f’me, darling.”
Darling? The nickname had you moving immediately, finger sliding in until you had it buried deep inside you, the heel of your palm bumping against your clit with every small movement you made as you slowly slid in and out at his command.
“Hahh– does that feel good, darling? That’s a good little slut f’me”
Slut? Normally, getting called a slut would have you furious– So why did you just feel yourself getting more wet? You told yourself it was just because of the ‘darling’-- trying to ignore the fact that you clenched around your finger the second those demeaning words left his mouth.
You shifted your hand closer, letting your palm rub against your clit more harder now as your eyes focused on the way his fingers were wrapped around his cock. He didn't say anything for a few seconds, letting you really listen to the way his low groans were spilling into your headphones.
You found yourself matching his pace, finger going in and out of your sopping wet hole at the same time his hand would stroke up and down his leaking cock.
“Fuck, I wish I was there… Why don’t you stick another finger inside? Jus’ f’me, darling…” The man groaned, his grip on his length slowly loosening before he came to a complete stop.
Before you could slide your middle finger in he suddenly spoke, “unless of course, you already did…” Hand coming back up from his base to continue stroking himself, “I really really hope you didn’t. You wouldn’t wanna be a bad girl for me now, right? Stupid fucking slut.” His pace got faster. “Fuck.. where’s my good girls that waited, huh? Waiting for me like a good girl… unlike these ungrateful little whores.” He spat, strokes coming to a stop as he tightened his grip on his dick so hard it looked like it almost hurt.
You stayed still. The one finger inside you was slowly moving– still matching his pace every time he stroked himself up and down along with each time he came to a stop.
“Mhmm… now to those who waited, go ahead and stick another finger in that sweet lil’ pussy of yours, c’mon. You deserve it since you were a good lil’ obedient puppy f’me.”
You stuck your middle finger in immediately at the nickname, your arousal coating your finger as you stretched out your pussy. Just hearing him say those degrading words had you biting your lip harder, fighting to not let any sounds out.
Those words– even if they weren't directed towards you, mixed with his praise and the new nickname had a strange unfamiliar feeling pooling up in your lower stomach as you thrusted in and out drenched cunt rapidly.
You watched as he moved faster, breathy groans quickly turning into low moans as he started mumbling incoherently. You swapped the heel of your palm out for your thumb, rubbing hard circles on your clit as you curled your fingers inside of you, tips of them hitting that spongy spot inside making your back arch off the bed.
The man stayed mumbling, voice so low it almost sounded as if he was growling. You knew he was trying to stay quiet, but you so badly wanted to hear him. You turned your volume up, leaving it on max as his low moans quickly became loud whines in your ear.
His hand working faster, thumb coming up to swipe more precum off his tip before dragging it down across his length, making himself whine even more– although since his voice was so fucking deep, it sounded like the type of growling a predator would make when it found its prey. Oh, how you wished that was you.
Your spine bowed off the bed, eyebrows furrowing as you struggled to keep your eyes on your phone, not wanting to miss seeing his cock twitch in his hands.
“F-fuck– hah– I-I think m’gonna come…” His voice began to sound higher as he increased his pace, slowly reaching his high. “Ahh– c’mon, come with me, darling. Wanna come together…”
The sudden usage of the old nickname he had previously given you had you releasing your lip, mouth opening in a quiet gasp as a shiver ran down your spine.
His own moans getting more audibly whiner, “O-oh– f-fuck– m’gonna come… s-shit, come with me– come f’me.” He was rambling– hips bucking up into his hand, “I-I wanna come i-insde you— hahh– wanna feel yer sweet lil’ pussy clench ‘round my cock while you come f’me like a good fucking pup.”
That did it.
Your thumb pressed down on your clit hard as you curled your fingers inside one last time, pressing down hard with the same amount of force you did on your clit to that spongy spot inside you as you gushed around your fingers.
You kept your eyes open the entire time– watching and hearing him as he shot ropes of cum out, some of it landing on his clothed stomach and wrist while the rest of it shot so high up it went out of frame.
The man gripped his still hard cock at the base, chest heaving for a few more seconds before he let out the quietest chuckle that you probably wouldn't have heard if your volume wasn't at max before ending the video.
You slowly pulled your fingers out, the pads of it accidentally brushing against your clit, causing you to let out a small gasp at its sensitivity.
You laid there, panting hard at your first orgasm. Legs pressed into the bed, panties that were still on you drenched along with your sheets, shirt riding up your stomach just a little.
You hadn't even realized you dropped your phone on the blanket next to you as you picked it up, only to see a new notification from Shoko.
congrats
but maybe next time could you keep it down a bit? My headphones can only go so high…
You could feel your cheeks heating up with embarrassment– you didn't even realize you were being loud!
Not wanting to respond to Shoko, you swiped her notifications away and went back to the video. The screen stayed paused at the ending, the man's cock in his hand as large splotches of cum sat on his wrist and stomach.
Curiosity getting the best of you, you scrolled down just a bit only to find something unexpected. The video was posted only two days ago– only having 27 likes and 2 comments. You clicked on the comments, expecting to read something from other ‘pornstars’, only to have random people with no profile picture say how much they enjoyed the video. What even was he? Was he a pornstar? You weren't really familiar with the titles in this situation, but you knew that calling him a pornstar was wrong.
Needing to find out, you clicked on his profile, only to be met with nothing. Absolutely nothing. Aside from the one video he had, his account was empty.
He had 6 followers and 0 following, black profile picture, no heading, not even a bio.
It didn't show when he first made the account, but you just assumed it had to have been recently because of the low followers and the fact that his first and only video had been posted 2 days ago.
You glanced up at the top of your screen where his username sat under his empty profile picture: Kingofcurses.
Seriously? What kind of a username was that?
You laid there, internally making fun of the username the unknown man had chosen for his account.
The same username you would end up searching up everyday after that.
It started off fine, as some might say. You were never the ‘masturbating type’ or whatever that meant, but he had you waiting for Shoko to fall asleep every night just so you could open up Twitter.
It turned into a routine.
The day after you had first found the account, you tried to go back to Twitter to see if you could relive the feeling of your orgasm, only to fail miserably. Every single video had you bored out of your mind, the repetitiveness of them all left you dry and just disgusted with yourself. That was until the next day when you decided to try again. Scrolling through countless videos, you finally came to the conclusion that you needed to find his account again.
You were desperate.
The sleep you had after that night had you feeling more refreshed than you had felt in years. Wanting needing to experience that feeling again, you swallowed up your pride and typed his username into the search bar.
Kingofcurses
There it was. Still empty, still only one video, only this time he had 39 likes instead of 27. For some reason you felt a strange feeling of jealousy wash over you. Although seeing that he still had the same amount of comments and followers since you last checked had you feeling a sense of relief. You let out a deep sigh before clicking play and sliding your hand down into your panties.
That was your routine.
Every night when you were free– which was almost every night– had you sliding your headphones on and opening Twitter.
Weeks turned into months, and before you knew it, you were waiting for a new post every Tuesday and Thursday.
It started off basic. First, making a new account to follow him on Twitter, since you didn't want anyone you knew in person seeing you follow a porn account. You had made the account on the spot, not wanting to put your real name in, you quickly thought of something that you thought fit the situation.
Queenofsins
You internally giggled to yourself at the username, making a stupid sin tan cos joke before clicking submit.
You turned on notifications, and of course, checked the account every second of the day even though you had notifications on. He posted his second video 2 weeks after the first, it was similar to his first post; no caption, jerking off, same wordplay and angle. You didn't mind, of course. It was around 10pm on a Tuesday when you got the notification.
You expected to wait another 2 weeks for the next video, but to your surprise, it came next week, still around 10pm on a Tuesday. Then the next week, and the week after that, and the week after that. You had gotten used to him posting every Tuesday around 10. Around 10 because sometimes it would be 10, other times it would be 10:30, and sometimes even 9.
So every Tuesday you would excuse yourself from whatever you were doing with Shoko just to be in bed by 10, waiting for his notification.
You were always first. First view, first like, You like it before you had even pressed play, not caring that he could see it.
But, you never commented. Never.
What would you even say? All the girls in his comments were saying things like ‘you're so hot, check your dms, let's collab.’ You weren't saying any of that.
With his constant posting every Tuesday, his followers began to grow, quickly going from 6 to 120, likes going from 30 a post to now averaging over 300. You couldn't help but feel a sense of jealousy wash over you. That feeling quickly passed on a random Thursday when he decided to post.
You were at the library, sitting in a small cubicle while you worked on your latest project for one of your classes when all of a sudden your phone lit up, notification displayed on your screen: Kingofcurses posted a video
Then the next.
Kingofcurses tagged you in a video
What. The. Fuck?
Your eyes shot wide, staring at your screen as if it was some type of glitch. Today wasn't Tuesday. It was 11pm on a Thursday– it wasn't even his usual posting time!
Even though you were surrounded by walls inside the cubicle, you glanced over your shoulder, checking if anyone was there only to be met with an empty library. Not wanting to wait, you pulled your headphones out, connecting them to your phone before clicking the notification.
The notification brought you to his latest video, the thumbnail… different from the others. Usually his thumbnails either started off black or the phone already pointed to the bulge in his pants. This one was different. So so different.
For starters, the phone was now propped up against something, angled so you could only see the top of his thighs to the middle of his stomach.
His naked stomach. He wasn't wearing a shirt. In every single video of his, he was always wearing a hoodie. His chest and arms were always covered, leaving you to your imagination. Until now. He wasn't naked, he had pants on, his usual black sweatpants while his fat, flustered cock laid on his stomach, hard and leaking.
The angle of the phone stopped a little bit above his belly button, showcasing his abs that were so rigid. The angle showed his tattoos, two bold lines cut vertically across his abdomen. But that wasn't his only tattoo– on his lower left hip sat a large tattoo of a spider with the number 8 in the middle of it. The tattoo wrapped around his hip, half the spider's legs were out of your sight due to the angle of the thumbnail.
He was sitting in the chair he always sat in, you recognized it from rewatching all of his videos thousands of times, his lower body in frame while his arms weren't shown. Yet. His room was obviously dark, but a bright light that came behind his phone was shining on his body, letting you see his lower half in all its glory. You clicked like immediately.
You pressed play, your curiosity getting the best of you while you turned your volume up.
The video started– you expected to hear low, quiet groans, only to get startled by his loud voice in your ears as you rushed to turn your volume down.
“Hey everyone, I thought I’d try something new today,” He trailed off before one of his hands came into frame– thick, beefy arm wrapped around his cock, hand resting at the base.
You noticed the two, thick black lines that wrapped around his wrist, matching the lines that were on his stomach. It wasn't new for him to talk to the camera, sure he would talk during it, but sometimes he would ramble on about something irrelevant for no more than a minute before getting on to what everyone had come for. But this wasn't one of those. This was different.
“This special video goes out to my favorite fan… Queenofsins.”
You audibly gasped, free hand slapping over your mouth after you realized you were still in a public space.
He said your name. Well, not your name, but your username– which was practically the same thing. Why did he suddenly shout you out?
You watched intently, eyes glued to where his tattooed wrist started to slowly move up an inch before going back down to the base of his cock.
“Queen of sins… I like that,” He chuckled mockingly. “That's a nice name.” He hummed, his other hand coming into frame, matching tattoos on his wrist as he tugged down his sweatpants just a little bit below his thighs, black boxers now in your view.
“So fitting…” He trailed his hand higher, visibly squeezing his length. “Cute how my favorite fan and I are matching…” A low groan escaped his lips as he thumbed the tip of his cock.
Favorite? You? He called you his favorite fan? You? You couldn't believe what you were hearing. You already felt your arousal pooling in your panties, crossing your legs to try and soothe the aching only to fail miserably when your eyes traced every vein that ran across his leaking dick through the screen, wishing that it was pressing against your throbbing and not the flimsy fabric of your panties.
“You did that jus’ for me, right?” He bucked his hips up, chasing his hand which caused him to shift in his seat, more of his lower half getting exposed. “Mhmm… made that jus’ f’me.” He repeated, hand now twisting around his dick.
Mock laced in his tone, "I'm flattered, darling. Especially since I'm your favorite camboy.”
Camboy. He called himself a camboy. This entire time you thought camboys were the ones who played with their asses on live, not this.
You squeezed your thighs tighter together, bottom lip drawn in between your teeth as you watched him twist his ink-covered wrist along the head of his cock while talking about you, no– at you.
All his movements so far have been slow, obvious that he was trying to hold on longer than usual.
“Can I ask you something?” your heart was skipping beats. He really was talking to you.
“How come you don’t comment on my videos, darling? Always first to view, first to like,” He trailed off, voice getting quieter as he thumbed his aching tip, “Are my videos not good enough for you?” He asked, voice sounding more and more vulnerable by the passing second.
“Everyone comments, saying how they like my body… my cock… my words. Do you not like them?” You could feel the taste of copper filling your mouth.
“Do you like this?”
Even though there was no one in the library, you kept your hands on your phone regardless of the torturing ache in your pants.
The man cruelly laughed as he wrapped his fist fully around his length, slowly stroking up and down. “Actually… Would you rather me call you puppy?” Your eyes went wide.
“Yeah, I see those views, and guess who's always first?” He laughed, keeping his steady pace. You knew exactly what he was talking about. His first video. The video where he used that nickname. He had only used it twice but every time you would rewatch his videos, you would go back to that specific video, rewinding to the timestamps where he groaned the words.
Every other video of his had some type of degradation or praise, but no pup. You didn't know why you liked it so much, maybe it was the way he said it or the words that followed before it. All you knew was that you felt your pussy clench around nothing every time you thought about it.
Snapping out of your daze, you watched him as his pace sped up, deep groans coming through your headphones. “Hahh– that feels good, pup.” He teased, knowing what the name did to you.
“You like watching me touch myself? I know you do,” He chuckled, tone laced with so much mockery you felt like he was trying to embarrass you. You felt humiliated. It had you soaked.
“Thats right, keep watching me like the obedient lil’ puppy you are.” Your face felt hot as he recited the same words from his first video.
You watched him squeeze just below the head of cock while precum formed at his slit before he used two fingers to rub it away, spreading it along his thick fingers. What you wouldn't give for those to be inside you instead. Waiting for him to coat his dick with his own precum like he usually did, you felt your mouth dry when he brought his fingers closer to the camera, waiting for it to focus before he scissored them in the air, letting the light catch the way it glistened on his fingers as it slowly dripped down to his knuckle.
“You see that, pup?” Your thighs clenched unbelievably hard together. “See how fucking hard it gets me, too?” He asked, pulling his hand away only to wrap it back around his cock, using the precum as lube. You knew he was referring to the nickname by ‘it’. The mere knowledge that he got off on calling you pup had you fighting the urge to not grind on the library chair right then and there.
“Fuckkk, wish you were here, puppy.” What? “On your knees f’me, staring up at me with your mouth open, just begging for my cock like the pathetic little slut you are.” The sudden change in his words had you shifting in your seat, looking for anything to ease your throbbing bud.
“Made a whole account for me, huh? You jus’ love me that much, isn't that right, puppy? Fucking pathetic. Acting all shy, not wanting to speak your mind but leaving likes the second I post– hah– s-shit, you even get off to that stupid name.” He was panting, voice raising a bit as his strokes got faster, cock glistening in the light. “Like me calling you my obedient lil’ pup?” He laughed. Laughed at you. “Ngh– you like it so much I think I needa pick out a nice lil’ collar f’my sweet lil’ puppy then, right?” He huffed, a snarky laugh following.
You couldn't believe what he was saying.
It was almost as if he was making fun of you, but the way his hips were bucking up into his fist said otherwise.
“F-fuck…” He whined, pace turning erratic after he uttered that sentence. You knew it had an effect on him too.
“Excuse me?”
You practically jumped out of your seat at the voice, quickly turning off your phone and slamming the screen down on the table. You stared up at the old librarian who was equally as startled by your reaction.
“Um,” You stammered, eyes wide as you realized she was staring down at where your phone was now lying face down on the desk.
The librarian coughed, “Well… I was, um, just coming here to tell you that we’re closing in 10 minutes.”
“O-oh! I’m sorry, let me just grab my stuff and I'll be going.” You stuttered, picking up everything but your phone. The librarian nodded then walked away, her face looking disgusted.
Did she hear it? Or worse, did she see it?
You finished grabbing everything from the cubicle and stuffing it inside your bag before picking up your phone and shoving it inside your pocket, not wanting to almost get caught again.
At home, you turned it on only to be met with nothing. His page was open on your phone, last video from Tuesday. You refreshed the page only to have nothing come up.
Swiping down on your notifications bar, Kingofcurses posted a video and Kingofcurses tagged you in a video.
You clicked on the notification only to have it bring you to his page. The video was gone. You didn't imagine it. He must've deleted it. You thought about it, how he only addressed you in the video. The video was made for you. He knew that you were always first to his videos and since you liked it before watching it, he probably timed it so he could delete the video right after you had finished watching it. You laughed to yourself before throwing your phone on the bed.
That went on for months. You waited and waited for another video, only to have him post the same videos every Tuesday, until one day when he posted he would be moving to a website.
It was some cam site where men and women posted, all similar videos, some consisting of pornhub-like content but mainly just solo stuff. You quickly made an account, using the same username and followed him.
Kingofcurses.
His prolife picture was no longer the default one you were used to, but now a black screen. Nothing special. His Twitter had over 2k followers, but on here you were his only follower. He already had videos posted, some old videos that he just reuploaded from his Twitter, you recognized the thumbnails immediately.
The account was mainly the same as his Twitter, only this time he had a bio. Posting every Tuesday and Thursday at 10pm followed by a link to his Twitter.
You quickly figured out that you two were in the same area because he never specified the time zone and yet whenever he would post at 10, it would always match up with your time.
The following Tuesday came, instead of his video being shot from the same angle it was now shot from a webcam somewhere high up that angled down to show his body, still fully clothed with only his cock sticking out his pants.
Throughout the years you watched as his videos increased in quality and content, going from just wordplay and jerking off in front of the camera to getting more toys involved as well as slowly stripping before he ended up completely naked on videos, but never showing past his stomach.
Still, you were always first. He never tagged you in another video like that after. You still never commented. He would occasionally drop the nickname once every 3 months or so, always catching you off guard. You knew he was only talking to you.
He gained more followers on the site, already at 6 thousand, still following zero. There were even times where instead of posting videos at 10 he would go live. You loved those days. They would usually happen every 2 weeks, always giving his viewers a heads up to clear their schedule for the night.
You remember the first time he went live. You were the first person, of course.
“Queenofsins joined,” He laughed to himself, “Hi, pup. Knew you would be first.” This was the second time he was talking to you directly. His chat was open, allowing you to write back in real time. You never did. He stayed talking to you, saying that he did not expect you to write anything as he started to rid himself of his clothes. He lazily pulled his shirt over his head, giving you a show. You could hear him open his mouth, mic insanely close to him, before he closed his mouth as another person joined.
He called out their name, saying he would start very shortly, just waiting for a few more people to join.
As more people started to join he called all their names out, even responding to the things they would say in chat. He finally yanked his pants down, letting his already-hard dick out, giving it a gentle tug. He pumped his hand up and down his length, telling people he wanted to try something new out. You got flashbacks to the video.
“Gotta live up to my camboy title, so what do you guys wanna see me do?” He asked casually, like he wasn't rubbing his dick on camera.
You watched as the chat exploded, a good half of his following was in there as they asked him to take his pants off, face reveal, stick something up his butt, or even to moan specific names.
Shisomeshimono donated 100 hearts: wanna hear you say my name, moan Miruka like a good boy
“Like a good boy, huh?” The man let out a chuckle before harshly pumping up and down his dick and letting out a breathy groan of the woman's name.
What the fuck?
You were so overcome with jealousy you couldn't even play with your pussy!
Her donation sat at the top of the chat along with the donate button on the side. Of course you pressed it. The button had a sidebar popping out, screen half with him jerking off and the other half filled with confusing numbers and pictures.
You weren't even focused on him anymore, only focused on how to stop him from groaning out some random girl's name.
You started scrolling through the sidebar, finally finding the donation section before regretting every choice. Hearts equaled to 20 coins, kisses were 30, a kitty was 50, and a puppy was 100.
At the bottom of the page read: Made by Kingofcurses
He made the fucking donations.
He chose the stupid fucking puppy. It's like he knew you would buy it. Refusing to give in, you clicked the kiss emoji, only to have the price pop up next to it. 30 dollars to donate one kiss.
You immediately clicked out, going to click a heart only for it to say 10 dollars.
What the fuck? Why did he make it so expensive? You were interrupted by another donation coming in, message filling your screen. It was the same person, asking him to moan her name one more time as she donated 100 more hearts.
You scoffed at yourself before putting your credit card information and clicking 150 hearts. Before you could click confirm, the website had asked you if you wanted to send a public request with your donation or a private one. You were originally planning to just send the hearts, hoping he got the hint without any words but your jealousy got the best of you.
Clicking a private request, you typed out your question before clicking submit.
You closed out the sidebar, full screening his live before watching him slow down, obvious that he read your request already.
“Wow, never thought I’d see this,” Tone back to that familiar mockery, “Guess someone wants me to stop saying names.” The chat exploded with thousands of people asking who would do such a thing. You could feel the embarrassment seeping into you. “You’re gonna have to do better than that, puppy.”
You internally cursed yourself before clicking confirm purchase on a stupid $100 puppy.
if ur out there reporting blogs for mature content, ur lowkey HIGHKEY evil asf 😭 you’re essentially shadowbanning blogs—& WRITERS WHO WORK REALLY HARD—for no reason. if someones blog bothers you, then just block them… it’s that simple.
˖ ࣪૮₍ 𝓟.𝐔𝐍𝐊 𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐉𝐎 𓂃 ⭒ is your ex boyfriend who can't stop wanting to fuck you even after you broke his heart.
⤿ ꒰ you left satoru in highschool. but after the glowup, he discovered something: revenge was fucking sweet. and he wants to get back at you for everything you've put him through. show you how much he's changed ꒱
♡ ₊˚‧ cw. college au :: smut :: m.masturbation :: f.oral :: m.oral :: fantasies :: alcohol consumption :: smoking :: shotgunning :: punk culture :: mean!toru :: so much sexual tension ꒱
˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ didn't know where it all went wrong. one moment you were his pretty, preppy girlfriend. the girl who all the guys would die for and all the chicks wanted to be— and still, you chose him. some bumbling, stumbling, awkward and anxious nerd. the next? you were bitching at him for the smallest inconvenience. it was something stupid. he doesn't even remember. he thought you were just stressed with finals. thought it would all be better then next day. but then you ignored his texts. blocked his number. dropped his sweaters off to his room. three years of highschool sweethearts— gone.
˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ cried like a baby when you left him. glasses fogged and skewed. hands trembling around a bouquet as he stood at your window, hoping you'd let him. all tears and snot and quivering lips as his croaky voice called—
“baby I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I don't know what I did, please take me back.”
you never did. never gave him the time of day. barely even batted an eye at him when you glanced out your window only to shut the curtains.
he sat on the sidewalk. crumpled bouquet in his hands and glasses shoved in hair rustled from all the gripping. shoulders shaking and sobs hiccupping. the girl of his dreams. his sweet girlfriend. gone. and he doesn't even know what he did wrong.
˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ had to talk to someone about it. the rumours were flying all around. gossip and giggles about how the nerd finally screwed up and fumbled the prettiest girl in school. it made the already awful schooling experience worse for satoru. but what really hurt him most of all was when he'd pass you in the hallway while you chatted with your group of friends. you'd lock eyes when your friends nudged you, giggled, but you'd just frown and look away. you never laughed with them. but the silence was like a blunt pencil shoved straight through his heart.
he approached suguru. his best friend who attended another highschool. crying into his arms and shoulders and slobbering up his leather jackets with all the tears. he babbled about how much he missed you. how he didn't know how to fix it.
and that's when suguru gripped his shoulders. told him, “hey man, she's not gonna take you back, y'know that right?”
satoru's throat bobbed. he cracked a sob. “then what the fuck am I gonna do?”
“try something new.”
“huh?”
“try something new. something risqué. shake up your norm a bit so you don't have to think of her.”
he contemplated suguru's words. something new didn't sound too bad. every time he looked at his textbooks he'd think of all the awkward chemistry pick up lines he'd give you. and whenever he wore his hoodies he remembered how much you loved stealing them.
yeah. suguru's right. he needed something completely new. needed to turn his whole life around. but how?
˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ got his first piercing. grief did things to him and he was desperate to distract himself. so he definitely jumped the gun a bit but hey— a tongue piercing should distract him enough, right?
he wouldn't admit that it was because this specific piercing was something you and him spoke about. when you were cradled in his arms and talking about the most random of things. he'd told you that suguru had gotten one and joked about getting one himself. he remembered the way you flinched. how you giggled and told him that you couldn't imagine your sweet boy with such a delinquent style.
he thought about your smile when the piercer pushed the needle through his tongue and tears bubbled on the corners of his eyes. when his hands shook and suguru held them tightly from the side.
this pain. it's nothing he's ever experienced. he choked a sob, his face blotched and thick, pretty white lashes damp and fluttering as he tried to hold still— but fuck. if it didn't make the dull ache in his heart better. maybe. . . he could get used to this.
˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ let suguru guide him through his journey. it started with the fashion. he barely let the piercing on his tongue heal fully before he jumped for a set of stacked lobes. then a helix once those were healed. he seemed to quite like silver now. silver piercings, chains, rings. they looked good on him.
speaking about what looked good on him— the sweater and cardigans were fine and all, but he's quite liking leather now. the rougher look suits him— that's what suguru said.
within the next year he snatched himself some dimple piercings too. and some snakebites. tried some eyeliner— that brand worked well. it was from a small business. he preferred the messier kind.
the more he hung around suguru the more he realised a few things. realised what a shitshow the world around him was. usually he'd idly listen to suguru's tirades, tell him to be careful when he pushed back against authority. now. . . he was beginning to see things for what they were once his head wasn't nose-deep in a book. shit had to be done and he was already changing so hey, why not?
he started getting more confident. more bold. trying new things out, engaging with this change that had become a lifestyle. hell, a culture. he met new people that really opened his eyes.
nerds, preps, jocks and populars— they were all just the start of a box. a box that you obediently fit into so that the people up top could get you under their boot.
and that's when he got less stiff. started using knowledge more as a weapon rather than validation, rather than it being just something he was good at. he got louder, productive. mister goody-two-shoes had become quite the rulebreaker.
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ was more sure of himself. he had fun now. let loose. stopped caring about what other people thought or him. he went to parties at night and protests in the day. loud, proud and honestly? not thinking about you. not much, at least. he had more things to worry about. like keeping his new daith piercing clean and keeping up with his new pins made from bottle caps.
maybe he got a little carried away with the alcohol and smoking when it came down to it. but whatever. no one's perfect, that's the whole point of what he is now.
and maybe at those parties he distracted himself with other girls cause he kept seeing your eyes in his solo cup. maybe a part of him still wasn't over you— no matter how much he loved his new life.
but whatever. other girls kissed him like you did. buried their hands into his hair and tugged on it just like you did. they wrestled his tongue in the way you hadn't— grabbed his waist and buried their nails in the same way you were afraid to.
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ kept it a secret, but he held onto your photos for as long as possible. longer than he would have liked to admit. he couldn't help it, okay? you were suddenly off the map and he couldn't find you anywhere. but when suguru caught him scrolling through his secret little folder tucked away in some special place on his phone— he called him out. told him that it was holding him back.
so, satoru finally bit the bullet. selected the folder, pressed delete. and watched all the memories pour down the drain.
he denied the small tremble in his fingers. the ache in his heart. instead he forced himself to scoff: "sayonara, bitch.”
he was starting college in a month. he didn't need this.
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ was late for his first day of college classes. couldn't help it. he did a run around the block with suguru putting some posters up. a new stir in the political sphere called for action— and satoru was all about action.
so when he walked into that lecture hall a whole twenty minutes late? with his bag strung over his shoulder and his glasses half-fogged? he didn't care. just stepped up the stairs and found a seat at the back row. one of the only empty seats.
he plopped down, ran his tongue over one of his snakebites out of habit and picked at his peeling black nail polish as he fished out a notebook.
and that's when he saw it. manicured nails. soft hands. his heart stuttered.
no fucking way.
his gaze cut to the side to find a familiar pair staring back. wide. was that shock? or horror?
his blue eyes hardened. oh. fucking. fantastic.
you.
"sweetheart," he hummed before he could stop himself. head crooked to the side as his cold stare raked over you. you hadn't changed much in fashion. your skirts were a bit more modest. hair neater. but you were quiet.
he grinned. eyes cutting back up to you.
and then. he finally let his tongue lash.
“nice to see you again. bit of a complex course for just a pretty face like you though," he glanced at the door label: quantum physics 101. then locked his smug stare back to you.
“wouldn't you say?”
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ went back to his dorm that day and tried to forget about it. that look in your eye. the way you hadn't even spoken to him after his little jab. what, were you still too good for him? couldn't even spare him a greeting?
he brushed it off. told himself it was pointless. he had way too many things to focus on than his ex girlfriend from highschool who broke his weak little heart back then.
he told himself he'd ignore you. but fate had other plans. the next day he was leaned up against one of the walls outside campus. just before class. cigarette between his lips and hands cupping his lighter.
that's when he felt it again. that stare.
he glanced up through his wispy bangs and caught you in the act. gawking at him as you were on your way to class. didn't you know staring was rude? then again, he shouldn't expect anything better from you.
his brows narrowed. teeth bit harder on the cig.
satoru took a deep drag. let the smoke fill his lungs in an attempt to ease the pinch in his gut. then slotted the cigarette between his fingers and drew it back. billowed a string of smoke and called out. crystal clear. rough. as he snatched his phone from his jacket pocket.
“take a fucking picture. it'll last longer.” without even looking up. you didn't deserve his eyes.
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ ranted to suguru about you later that day. returning to his old habit of gripping and tugging at his hair out of frustration. fuck, you always brought the worse out of him. out of all the colleges you attended why'd it have to be this one? and why the hell did you keep staring at him like that?
“you know she's probably regretting it, right?” suguru piped up, looking up from his little project.
satoru stopped his pacing. glanced over his shoulder. “regretting it?”
“breaking up with you. I mean look at you now. quite the catch, y'know?”
“so what, she regrets breaking my heart and dragging my name through the mud all through highschool?”
“yup. she probably wants you bad.”
and that's when satoru decided that he had an opportunity here. to get back at you for all the shit you put him through. you were the catalyst of his very change, after all. now the object and accumulation of everything he loathed. so that's when he decided:
if you wanted him so bad now? he was gonna show you just how much he changed.
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ started in class. what were you even doing here, in his field anyway? you weren't ever a bright stem light so why start now?
he wasn't kind. he used his intelligence like a weapon now, and unfortunately you were his new target. he'd belittle you whenever he had the chance. throw little comments that no one knew were about you— but you knew. and he adored your falters.
he pointed jabs, brutal truths. it didn't help that you were his seat partner for most of the semester.
you never snapped back anyway. just spared him a silent glance then went back to work. it irked him. you really never shook off that arrogance of yours, did you? whatever. it only made him worse.
“this is a little out of your league, right sweetheart?” he'd muse during a group project. a nickname that used to be so endearing, now just another lash of the whip that was his tongue.
“let the others handle it. you can just sit there and look pretty. maybe use your little highlighters to spiff things up, hmm?”
so what if the people in the group laughed at you? he didn't care. you sure didn't when it was him in your shoes.
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ found out that you both signed up for the same organisation. what were you doing in the simple living org? that's not what you were about. you were all bright, and pretty and flashy— you weren't about making something out of nothing. maybe that's why he was even more frustrated when you decided to run for president. no way in hell was he gonna let someone like you be in a leadership for an organisation that held his values. so of course he signed up to run against you. yeah, he was mean. he was being a fucking dick during every meeting. but he didn't care. not when it came to you.
no matter how many times he'd catch your eyes whenever he made a statement. or when you'd huff at him. it just gave him a reason to lick his teeth and bite back.
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ was unfortunate enough to end up behind you in the food court line. there you were, probably trying to figure out if you should have two pumps of hazelnut syrup or three. he couldn't help but roll his eyes. what was taking so long? still indecisive as ever.
he called from behind you. ordered for you since you were taking your own sweet time. he remembered your favourite drink. never could quite forget it. you probably didn't see it on the menu. silly girl.
and when you looked back with that same startled expression only to press your glossed lips together? he just huffed.
“still can't figure out what you want?” as he reached around to snatch the served drink and shove it into your hand. hopeless. you were hopeless.
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ spotted you one day after class. talking to the professor. he hasn't caught much of the conversation. only that you were discussing something about extra credit.
maybe he jumped the gun a bit. assumed the worst because the image he'd built of you in his head told him that you were low enough to consider something like that. I mean— it made sense with recent events. how a culture change that came with aesthetics and confidence was all he needed to have your stare now when his last year of highschool was spent crying over the disgust in your gaze.
so of course, when people flooded the class and he walked his way up to the fated seat beside you, he shot you a look over his glasses. that same disgust in his eyes and a sneered smile on his pierced lips.
a hand full of rings gripped the back of your chair on the way to his. he muttered just above your ear.
“maybe show a lil more leg next time. sure it'll get people like you places.” as he patted between your shoulders and ignored your flustered surprise.
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ noticed that you did that a lot. got flustered at almost every thing he did. whether it was invading your private space, or shooting a heated comment. you looked away. bunched your hands on your skirt and took a breath. he wasn't sure if it amused or frustrated him. seriously? was all it took a little confidence and a few changes for you to finally see him as something more than the awkward little boy who followed you around like a puppy?
whatever. it was fun to play with regardless. you were fun to play with.
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ wasn't too impressed when the same professor seemed to enjoy playing with fate. satoru had been assigned to tutor you for the class he still wasn't sure how you got in to. he reluctantly went to your dorm with his textbooks and notes. huffed at your decor and threw a bunch of pointed comments before you both settled down to actually study.
but would you look at that— you couldn't look at him. cute little thing, weren't you?
you couldn't look him in the eye. stammered over your words when he shot you a look over the rim of his glasses and asked you if you understood. and don't think that he missed the way your thighs pressed together under the table when he clicked his tongue and called you silly for a little mishap.
he went to get a glass of water. spoke to you from the kitchen.
“y'know this would go a lot smoother if you could just pay attention.”
he couldn't help but sneak a glance at you. watched as you bristled and tried to distract yourself with highlighting your notes.
he approached as you struggled with an equation. clicked his tongue when you inevitably got the wrong answer.
“sorry, I just. . .”
“just what?”
he felt your shudder against his chest as he flushed against your back. leaning his hand over yours so that his cold rings pressed on your shaky fingers. guiding your hand holding the pen with his far larger one.
“just. . . can't focus when I'm around?” he urged your hand to write. restarting the equation. showing you just how wrong you were.
he felt your breath stuttered. heard how you cleared your throat.
oh, still such a cute thing, weren't you?
he chewed on his grin and leaned in. snakebites brushing on your burning lobe as he whispered. low, dangerous.
“do I make you nervous, sweetheart?”
he told himself to stop. but how could he with the way you shuddered when his free hand dropped and traced up your side. felt your skin beneath the tight, white button ups you always insisted on wearing.
his chuckle rumbled in a low rasp. “looks like someone changed from highschool. where's your flair, sweet thing?”
he nipped on your lobe. grinned wider as you bit back a whimper.
“wanna see how much my tongue's changed too?”
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ didn't go any further with you. no. he wouldn't let you back in so easy. you were gonna have to work for it. he wasn't your sweet boy anymore and you weren't his sweetheart. not really.
didn't mean that he didn't go back to his dorm throbbing in his ripped pants. didn't mean that he wasn't groaning— rough and wrecked as he dropped his pants and fisted his angry, hard cock. jerking his hand all messy as a nasty shlick shlick shlick filled the room. he pictured how your whimpers would compliment it.
he couldn't even get to his bed. he just slumped against the wall with his head tossed back and his white hair tousled. glasses shoved up in it. fucking his hand and imagining your mouth.
oh, he wanted to fuck your mouth. grip your hair and rub his prince albert piercing on your tongue. how would you react to that, huh? would you whine for him? try to hump his boot?
it was embarrassing how hard he came to the thought of it. squirting thick, creamy ropes all over his jacket but still jerking his hand like a madman. eyes rolled back and jaw tight to the thought of you. to how he'd make you hold that little skirt up while you ground your panties on his mouth. were they still pink, he wondered?
fuck. the way you'd moan. how you'd grip his hair with both hands and buck so weakly once you realised how much better he'd gotten with tongue. how would your clit feel under his tongue piercing? would you think that it suited him now?
and there he was. cumming for a second time. violent and messy as he ragged a harsh breath and choked your name back down his throat. eyes fluttering and knees shaky as she squeezed filthily on his tip.
fuck. he was gonna have so much fun with you.
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ couldn't shake the image. even as he leaned against the chain linked fence on one of the faculty rooftops. smoking away his third cigarette and thinking about you. he came here to study, and yet there you were. filling up his head as usual.
he didn't expect you to find your way up there too. with a book tucked under your arm and freezing at the stairwell when you saw him.
he spared you a small glance. huffed and looked elsewhere as you came closer.
“don't you have some classes you should be failing?”
silence.
for a second he thought you left. good. he didn't need you becoming a permanent resident in his mind after he'd spent years trying to heartlessly evict you.
until he felt your presence right beside him. your sweet perfume wrapped around him and those doe eyes that made him bite his cigarette just a bit harder.
and then. you decided to make him laugh.
“you shouldn't be smoking on campus.”
quiet. but was that an edge? was that the bitch that he knew— finally dropping the act?
a flicker in his eyes. a stir in his gut. he snapped those cold blues over to you. “oh yeah?”
long fingers gripped your jaw. dragging you forward as he took a long drag. letting the nicotine hit his lungs and he stared the real addiction dead in her eyes. your eyes.
he withdrew the cigarette.
“who's gonna stop me?”
leaned close. too close. squishing your face and yanking you closer. lips ghosting yours. smoke pouring into your mouth as he held you still.
with a dark grin and a darker glare.
"you, sweetheart?"
as he blew the smoke into your smushed lips. hand slipping down to grip your waist with the cigarette resting between his fingers. flicking some of the ash onto your doll pumps.
you didn't push him away. no. you whined. hands clawing on his jacket. so he squeezed your face harder, glared deeper.
and despite everything screaming at him to just drop it—
his lips smashed to yours. teeth and tongue meshing. because in the end? he preferred the nicotine that was your plush mouth.
preferred the little obsession you kick-started in him all over again.
synopsis: you finally invite loser!choso over for some shots because hes hot and you can’t keep your hands to yourself!
wc: easily like 5k, I’m too lazy to check sorry I’m on my phone
cw: lots of tension, nervous kinda sub choso, alcohol, mention of smoking, heavy makeout, begging
part 1 here!
the walk back to your dorm feels like a blur, and the state of shock and slight disbelief you are in is hitting you like a semi. theres no way the universe had just blessed you with the perfect opportunity to see this sexy as fuck man outside of class… right? You bump your acrylic nail into the keypad wrong when shakily entering your passcode into the door, snapping it back justtttt enough to remind you that somehow, this was actually real life. and that that fucking hurt.
~
the sharp bing! of the elevator jolts you back into reality. you exit when it finally reaches your floor and walk down the hallway to unlock your room in a daze. the second you step through the door you drop all of your bags and books and giddily jump onto your bed, still riding the wave of euphoric bliss that you are blessed to be able to bask in for the night. glancing down at your phone and staring at the new friendship profile you have with Choso, you notice his snap score. …what do you mean its only 5,000???
surely someone as hot as him would have a higher snap score than that, right? again, it was like the universe had blessed you. an unbelievably hot class crush that isnt just some frat asshole? you almost arent complaining about not finding anyone but Choso attractive anymore. you realize that now that the first step of getting his number (and his snap!) has basically been made for you, its game time. time to lock in… what should the first snap be? innocent? risky? straightforward? friendly? testing the waters?
your mind is buzzing with so many ideas that you almost feel dizzy. despite being so into him and being fairly confident in yourself and your flirting abilities, the anxiety is eating you alive. you get snapped back into reality by the short buzz of a notification.
nobara <3- hey girl i’m going to be staying over at yuki’s tn, we are going out to the bars so the room is all yours! do something fun and tell me all about it when i get back tmrw morning ;)
wow, maybe the universe is really forcing you to do this, because this situation is perfect timing. thanks Nobara! you open snap back up and take a few selfies, none of them looking good enough to send. you huff to yourself and lean back against the cold cement wall of your dorm room, trying to think of your options. you eye the half-empty bottle of titos on your windowsill and have a brilliant idea. this wont lead anywhere… right? its totally innocent! just inviting him over to drink! as friends! very normal!
to test the waters and see if he will even respond to you, you send him a simple mirror selfie with a short and sweet “heyyy”
you feel like your heart is about to explode out of your chest as you hit send and stare at the delivered status. shockingly, within less than a minute he opens it and responds. that was really fast, maybe he was just on the app or something? no… his snap score hasnt moved in the past hour, theres no way.
“hey whats up” over a mirror selfie of his own. he was in an old band tee with the sleeves cut off into a muscle tank. oh my god. his tattoos, his built arms, his hair down, and his insanely fast response time… was he trying to kill you? at this point, fuck small talk. he needs to be in your room. right now. a sudden surge of confidence and sheer thirsty bravery overtakes you as you snap him a picture of the titos resting on your lap, “you up to anything tn? if not, you want to be? :)” your brain nearly short circuited when he quickly replied, “nah, my roommate is having a girl over so I was planning on just spending most of the night at the library. i’d be down for whatever, beats falling asleep in a study room, wya?” over yet another jaw droppingly sexy selfie, this time with his massive, tatted arms resting on the doorframe behind him and flashing a stunning smile. oh my god.
you quickly send him your dorm hall and room number, then throw your phone onto the nightstand, jump off the bed, look around, and attempt to franticly clean up your room. the random gooner anime figures cannot be in sight. if someone had told you that this was how your night was going to go, you wouldnt have believed them.
~
several minutes pass and you hear a few short knocks on your door. your anxiety skyrockets as you process the current situation. the guy you have been borderline obsessed with is going to be here. in your room. sitting on your bed. drinking. with you…. alone. your hands tremble a bit from the nerves, fixing your hair and nodding to yourself in the mirror.
you gather your courage and open the door with a shaky hand, being greeted by the most gorgeous man you have ever seen. he’s wearing grey sweatpants that hug the curves of his legs just right and that same muscle tee from earlier, but with the addition of a black zip up hoodie. he gives you a shy smile and hello while making quick eye contact, looking away almost just as fast as a faint blush reaches his face. you have to shove all of your dirty thoughts about what you’d love to do to that face to the back of your mind as you step aside to let him into your room.
immediately, the tension is high as you jump onto the bed and motion for him to join you. he sets down his bag and skateboard and follows you, making your heart skip a beat at the feeling of the mattress sinking next to you. oh, all the things you’d let him do to you on this mattress… no stop! no dirty thoughts! you are friends! drinking and hanging out as friends!
you turn on your TV and reach over to the windowsill to grab the bottle of titos and two shot glasses. Choso’s eyes scan your dorm room and lock onto the anime posters that you have hanging by the door. “Oh, you watch Bleach too? What did you think about the ending of the last arc?” he quietly questions, attempting to break the slight awkwardness of the moment, clearly nervous. he takes a sharp inhale of breath at your reply, “yeah, I’ve loved it for years, didnt know you were into it too. it was really good, animation was gorgeous.”
You try to calm down your heart by engaging in small talk, but lets be real, the tension isnt going away. why would it? know what would help? shots!totally!
Your hands are shaking while you pour the shots, almost overflowing them due to the prickling feeling of his eyes boring into you. Setting the bottle next to you, you hand him his shot, brushing your finger against his, catching the cold metal of one of his rings. …oh my god his hands.. wait! no! fuck! dont stare at his hands! Your breath catches in your throat as you nearly drop the glass, luckily he had already gotten a good grip on it. your eyes catch the small drops of titos that managed to slosh out of the glass and onto his muscular thigh, marking their territory with a dark grey stain. “shit, sorry-“ you start, as you reach down to try to swipe off whatever hadn’t soaked through the fabric yet. you note the way his quad flinches at your unexpected touch.
“cheers!” you start, raising your shotglass out in front of you. “ch-cheers”, he echoes, meeting your glass with his. you both bring the shots to your lips, and quickly chase the burn away with some orange juice stolen from the dining hall. your nerves finally catch up to the moment and realize that Choso had just physically shivered from the slight touch of his thigh, you immediately grab the bottle and pour both of you another generous shot.
you cheers once again, down-up-down, and raise the glass up to your lips, tilting your head back to let the burn of the tequila soothe the chorus of “whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck” echoing in your internal monologue. you take a quick glance at Choso, who was still mid-shot, and catch onto the delicious bob of his adams apple, the cute scrunch of his nose, and the tiny dribble of liquid down his lip that had missed his mouth.
As Choso is reaching across you to the nightstand setting down his glass, he brushes up against you and slightly looses his balance, his shoulder knocking against your own, and his spikey black hair tickling at your cheek, sending electricity chasing down your spine.
Your heart is beating out of your chest with the thick air of anticipation surrounding you. Choso sets down his glass and pushes off the mattress to lift himself back upright. while the titos had certainly started to hit your system, you didn’t want to overdo it. after all, he was just a friend!
you gesture to the worn-out friendship bracelet tied to his wrist, “thats cute, is it from anyone? or just your fav colors maybe?” you internally cringe at the shitty attempt at small talk. honestly, it feels better than nothing, unable to sit in the loud ringing of silence between you both anymore.
he gives a shy grin and twists at the knots absentmindedly, “thanks, my little brother made it for me when I left to come back here from break. he learned at a camp we both went to. he was really excited to give me his first one.”
“you both were at a camp?” you ask, intrigued, a little charmed, and very glad that the small talk topic had amounted to an actual conversation.
he lets out a quiet chuckle that shoots directly to your nervous system and responds bashfully, “yeah, I’m a councelor there every summer. it was the first year he was old enough to come too. he was super anxious about it, it was really cute actually.” the way his eyes light up when he talks about his brother is precious, dissipating a little bit of the strange tension crackling between you two. “while it was nice to have my brother there, it kinda sucked though because that meant I’d actually have to be on good role model mode the whole time.”
wait, the hot, quiet spoken, nerd Choso had a bad role model mode? “elaborate, you have my undivided attention sir”, you joke with him, only realizing how flirty this came out after it had already left your lips. do you regret that delivery? nah. the look on his face in response to your “sir” was worth it.
Choso drew in a quick breath and scrunched up the comforter with one of his fists. He sheepishly sighed, “yeah… I kinda used to just work there to get paid doing easy work during the day. since its a sleep-away camp we stay there for a few weeks in a councelor’s bunk. but to be honest, it was definitely just an excuse to sneak off with my friends at night to get stupid high in the woods without worrying about our parents. my dad’s a dick.”
You let out a surprised laugh, leaning a bit closer subconsciously, “I had no idea you smoked!”
His brows quickly scrunched with worry, “why? do you not? I’m sorry if-“
You cut him off, “nonono! you just didnt strike me as that type of person. honestly in retrospect I dont really know why I thought that, you have the whole hot stoner boy thing going o-on…” you stuttered out the last word as you realize what you had just said. Face burning, you quickly look away to hide your embarrassment from him. FUCK! whywhywhywhy tequila brain!!!
somehow, only now had Choso gotten any hint that you were at least a little into him. the crackle of tension in the air had just been plucked like an overly wound guitar string. His mouth hangs open for a second, drinking in your little slip of the tongue. “d-do you smoke? I brought a J…if you… you know… you want to uhm.. I don’t know how your RA is with it…” he trails off, hoping to get you to turn your face back around to show him your pretty blush.
To his delight, you shake yourself from the mental horny jail you had been trapped in, tilting your head back to face him, the blush still faintly on your ears. “…yeah fuck it that would be great. the RA smokes all the time it’ll be ok. thanks Cho.” did I seriously just call him a pet name? maybe I am a lightweight. fuck. theres no way I can be this tipsy from 2 shots, what the fuck?
You don’t miss the way his eyes drop down to your lips as the nickname rolls off your tongue. distracting yourself, you reach for the remote and click onto youtube, throwing on a random music video and scanning the counter for your lighter. realizing that its not there, you assume that nobara probably stole it again. luckily, you keep a few in your lockbox under your bed.
“fuck sorry, I think my roommate grabbed our light, I have more, gimmie a sec” you mumble, absentmindedly hopping off the bed and dropping down to your knees to reach under for the lockbox. clumsily slipping your fingers through the handle, you give it a soft tug to release it from the pile of clothes you had shoved under your bed in hiding. you fidget with the lock, aligning the numbers and flipping open the lock with a sharp pop! rummaging through the stockpile of loose half smoked joints, dead batteries, and clogged carts you manage to find a purple lighter. closing the lid and flipping back the lock, you reach to shove it back under the bed, slightly grazing Choso’s knee in the process, making you both jump.
you had just noticed the position you found yourself in. on your knees, in between his thighs. while almost too cowardly to look up at his face, you could tell he noticed too by the way his hand reached out to steady your shoulder. “…sorry. fuck.” he rasps out under his breath, catching your eyes as you look up at him, through your pretty long lashes, with your cheeks faintly flushed from the titos. he was a beautiful, pitiful mess. his breath had caught in his throat, his face suspiciously too red to be from just two shots, his eyes glued to your lips.
You react without a thought, grabbing his shoulders before he could sit fully up. “…fuck it” you mumble to yourself, and trace your hands up his shaking arms slowly and bring them to the base of his neck and side of his perfect jaw. Choso is nearly frozen in place, his eyes going wide as he felt the firm, confident pressure keeping his face directed towards yours.
You dont give yourself the opportunity to chicken out, figuring that if things go badly, you can always blame it on the alcohol. with a short breath you whisper, “…can I…?”, leaning closer.
Choso’s eyes go wide for a second, realizing what you are asking. “…please-“, he breathes out, already leaning into you, nodding his head with cute nervous enthusiasm.
You don’t waste time, crashing your lips to his and pushing him backwards down onto the bed. He lets out a groan as you straddle him, giving his jaw a gentle squeeze. His hands tentatively find your back, creeping under your shirt and tracing hesitant circles over your spine.
You break the kiss for a second to catch your breath, letting your body weight fully rest on him. Only then do you notice the massive tent in his sweats, pressing directly into your core. His face turns a shade of scarlet as he tries to stop himself from bucking up into you. he tries to turn his face away and hide, but you tighten your grip on his jaw, refusing to let him, “nononono, stay right there Cho…”
You dip your head down to his neck, tilting his head up to give yourself better access. your lips graze against the tattoos marking his skin, giving him goosebumps and eliciting a shudder from him, as well as a delicious moan, “…fuckkkk… y/n… p-please… I….mpfh!!”
You grin, nipping his neck just enough to leave a little love bite, marking your territory, “hmmm? you what Cho…? I cant hear you…”
His breathing is ragged when he manages to groan out a little whine, “I- I can’t… I- ahhh! I need…”
Dragging your tounge up his neck to his ear you purr out, “tell me what you need Cho…”
“I-umph!! I n-need… you… please…”
smut to be continued in pt. 3 ;)
hope yall enjoy and sorry this took me 1000 years, my laptop decided to stop working and having to type this all out on my phone felt like torture lmfao. been uninspired for the past few months
comment to be added to taglist! current tags requested in dec 2024, sorry for taking so insanely long to get this up!!
guitarist! choso fucks you so good, you forget you ever got cheated on by your ex.
you really shouldn’t be doing this.
talking about your now non existent love life to the guitarist you just met from an unknown band that just so happened to be playing at the bar you walked into.
but you did.
why?
maybe it was those dark seductive eyes he had, or that sexy tattoo he had across his nose bridge. or maybe those facial piercings.
just, something about him.
you ran down the details how you caught your boyfriend of two years in bed with your long time best friend, how they scrambled to get the covers over their chests as if you hadn’t just seen everything. your boyfriend tried coming up with lame excuses, but you didn’t stick around long to hear.
you hated them.
choso swayed the glass of wine in his hand that is enough to send a victorian man into cardiac arrest, taking a quick sip before setting it down. his arms crossed against his chest, muscles bulging against the leather jacket.
"mm.. I'm sorry to hear that sweet girl. they sound like a bunch of assholes."
you scoffed softly, nursing your cup in your hands. "it is what it is, I guess. I think I was more hurt over the fact that it was with my best friend." the woman you trusted with your entire being.
you asked yourself, where did everything go wrong?
how long have they been sleeping with each other, how long have they been lying to your faces about it.
you shook your head slightly, wanting to get rid of those nasty thoughts before you began crying again.
chose's eyes never left you. they haven't for a long time.
"why don't you come over to our van? get away from all this noise."
you should say no.
you just got cheated on, lost your best friend and boyfriend, all in one day. but it's the way he said it that made it hard to decline his very obvious offer for a hook up.
have I mentioned how sexy his eyes are?
"sure, why not."
the words spilled out on their own.
"atta girl." he offered a roughed up hand to you, feeling your softer one lay on top. his fingers wrapped around yours, leading the way out to his vehicle.
"you guys travel often, for music?" you had to do a little run to catch up to him. which was hard to considering you were in heels.
"mm yeah, we get gigs here and there, so a van is how we get around."
he slid the door open, allowing you to walk in first.
it was empty, save for a couch in the back and an extra guitar.
"this was supposed to be the one I used tonight, but I set on the black one, fit my style more." his fingers strummed lightly at the guitars strings. "sit.. please." he motioned over to the couch.
you bit the inside of your cheek, sitting down looking anywhere but him.
he took notice of that.
"do I make you nervous, baby?" he cocked his head to the side, placing a hand on your cheek, thumb rubbing it lovingly.
"n-no.." you tripped over your words.
"no? you're shaking." he leaned down to your level, brushing his lips on yours. "this okay?"
"..okay." you confirmed.
and that was enough for his lips to smash against yours in a heated and sloppy kiss. groans left both of you, hands exploring each other like crazy.
"fuck. need you."
your dress's straps dropped from your shoulders as he pulled it off your body.
you were gorgeous.
"how can that idiot ever cheat on this body." his cupped your chest, squeezing at it.
"choso!"
"that's it.." he murmured, lapping at your nipple. "take your panties off for me."
you did as he said, pulling off the damp underwear. the scent of your arousal reached his nose.
he grinned wickedly, reaching up to his neck, snapping off his necklace that had his guitar pick resting on it.
"this is my good luck charm.. need to embed it with even more luck, y'know?"
his hand moved down to your bare cunt, guitar pick still in between his pointer and thumb.
your mouth opened, letting out soft gasps, watching as the pick collected some of your slickness on it. it was embarrassing, almost. how wet you were just from being naked in front of a boy you just met three hours ago.
"feels good.."
choso lifted his eyebrows, meeting eyes with you - clouded with lust.
"haven't even touched you directly," he groaned, continuing to drag the inanimate object. "your ex never fuck you good? you that needy?"
he already knew the answer.
you wouldn't be bucking your hips towards him if that wasn't the case. choso brought the guitar pick up to his lips, smearing it over his tongue.
god, you tasted so sweet.
his pupils dilated like a cat, quickly throwing the pick away, wrapping two muscular hands around your thighs, holding them up to your chest. "look at this pussy, fuck."
he grinned at your mewling as his digits moved up and down your folds.
"choso.." you whimpered, biting down on your lower lip, voice trembling. he didn't answer, instead, pushing two fingers in your dripping cunt.
"so warm.."
your fingers gripped onto the leather beneath you, being able to do nothing but take it. another moan broke from you when his thumb began rubbing your clit in gentle circular motions, fingers still plummeting in and out of you, curling just right.
he could feel his cock fully harden in his pants, pressing against the material to the point to where it hurt.
"you close?" he sighed, not wanting this moment to end.
"yes! yes! I'm close!" you sobbed. just when you thought you came, you didn't. his movements came to a halt.
"cho?"
he groaned at the sudden nickname, dick twitching like crazy. his free hand squeezed his boner, showing off the now visible imprint. "not yet, baby. wanna feel you cum on my cock instead."
choso's hungry eyes took you in, unbuttoning his pants. you took this time to fully take in his appearance. his bangs were sticking to his forehead, long lashes fluttering open after his cock bounced out.
holy fuck.
he was big.
bigger than your ex.
you can confidently say that. it couldn't even stand up straight for fucks sake.
a pearly bead of pre sat pretty on his pinkish tip, oozing out slowly. "bet his didn't look like this, hm?"
"I'd rather you not talk about my ex while we're about to have sex."
he chuckled. "just wanna make sure I'm doing better than he ever has."
of course he was. he had you folded in half, stuffing you to the brim with his annoyingly large cock. tears breamed at the corner of your eyes, forcing yourself to adjust to his size.
"choso! too much!"
his dick thrusted in and out at a steady pace. "shhh.. let me make you feel good."
his hands held onto your waist, pulling you to meet his hips at every thrust. "you take me so well." your pussy fluttered around his shaft, feeling yourself become more and more cockdrunk. "you were made for this, sweetheart."
he shifted to hit certain areas, looking for your sweet spot. your walls squeezed down, reaching up to hold onto his shoulder.
"oh," he coo'ed, leaning down to whisper in your ear. "here it is." he licked at your earlobe, picking up the pace, balls slapping loudly against your cunt.
your orgasm hits you.
toes were curling and you were full on crying now. your pussy fluttered, providing his cock with your cum.
choso was obsessed.
there was no way he'd ever let you go now.
so, he released in you, pumping ropes of hot seed. "oops.." he shrugged. “guess we got no choice but to stay with each other, what was your name?”
—
ending note: look at me guys, i wrote for someone other than gojo. i hope ur proud.
thinking of a yearner!choso who can’t bring himself to fight you back
choso is a D1 yeaner and I will not be taking any other opinions on this
exposition: you are in the culling games, fighting choso for some reason. also, this isnt proofread!
From the moment Choso first saw you, he knew he wanted to be yours. The way you carried yourself in fights, how your aura seemed to glow when you were in your element… no he needed to be yours.
It didnt matter to him that your first interaction was you trying to blow his head off from behind the cover of a building. The second he saw you he lost all of his will to fight, just dodging. After what felt like an eternity of missed attacks and zero retaliation, you figured something was up. Maybe a technique that requires a long charge up of no attacks? No, thats dumb.
you finally pause your relentless pursuit after having successfully destroyed every building within a one mile radius. dropping your hands and furrowing your brows, you sigh in exasperation, “what the fuck gives man. aren’t you going to attack or something? you dodge every single shot I take at you, put in no effort to hit me back even though you have had plenty of opportunities, and you haven’t tried to run. what are you getting at here?”
he stands still, his arm supporting the weight of his body against a car, panting, “iwanttofightwithyou!”
your mouth drops open slightly in disbelief, raising an eyebrow and running a hand through your hair. you fail to see why this random really hot sorcerer… curse…whatever he was, would want to side with you after you had done nothing but try to incinerate him for the past half hour.
“dude what the fuck is wrong with you.” you grumble, shaking your head.
he tentatively steps forward, his hands at his sides with the most pathetic pouty look on his face. okay, you must admit it, hes really really sexy. maybe you shouldn’t be letting your guard down so easily but to be fair he has made no effort to be aggressive in the slightest.
“I want… to fight with you.”
“yeah I heard you the first time.” you pinch the bridge of your nose as he draws closer, now only a few feet away from you. you study his face and he moves his gaze to his shoes. Is he wearing… Docs? or could they be Prada? whatever they were, it was certainly a choice to be wearing them in a bloodbath.
“you are strong and you look beau-strong. very strong.” he manages to say, moving some dirt around with the soles of his boots.
“so you want to be allies? is that what you are getting at?”
“um sure yeah that would be fine.”
you aren’t entirely sure what he means by that but you aren’t about to question him much further, as you both had been standing out in the open for far too long for your liking. you weren’t a fan of being exposed and relied on stealth and frankly, dirty moves, to get a start on your opponents.
he seems to recognize your anxiety and scans the surroundings, gesturing to a building that still had a few rooms standing with a tip of his head. you nod, still wary, and he takes the lead, walking in front of you with his back turned. “you are way too trusting of me.” you mumble, following behind him.
you both settle into the small room, it may have some holes in the ceiling but it is mostly secluded and somewhat still structurally sound, which is all that matters. he drops himself onto a chair and leaves the couch to you.
“soooo…”
“soooooooo….”
“this is really weird.” you reply, swiping rubble off the cushions next to you to prop your feet up.
“im aware,” he starts, wringing his hands, “I want to be your partner.”
“partner?”
“yes partner. I want to be yours.”
Before you have the chance to respond, a sharp cracking sound fills the room, the ceiling starting to collapse. He reaches towards you and pulls you into him, just far enough away from where the concrete would have really ruined your day.
your eyes go wide as you glance at the now crushed couch, “T-thanks.”
“Choso. Its Choso Kamo.” he replies, his hands loosening but not releasing you.
A Kamo? Thats really weird. Arguably one of the least weird things to have happen within the past hour, but still weird nonetheless.
“Y/N, Y/N L/N.” you respond, now only noticing the position you were both in. when he had pulled you from the couch he had effectively made you straddle him, one of your hands pressed against his abs and the other on the back of the chair, behind his head. For some reason, you didn’t feel the need to move. maybe it was because you were exhausted, but it was more likely because of how hot he was. his eyes met yours, faces only a few inches apart, flickering down to your lips and back up.
“…partners” you whisper to no one in particular, now wondering how he had meant that word as his face inches slightly closer, his cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink.
-
I may make a part two to this I kinda hit a flow state when writing and fell in love with this dynamic. also, its 5:15am and I need to leave for work at 6am. why do I do this to myself.
thinking ab a loser!choso who is oblivious to your class crush on him! (part 1)
cw: y/n is down bad, pining, maybe mutual pining, slightly suggestively spicy, sfw, part two will def be nsfw
normally, you’d have no issue skipping the dumb 9am math class that you had to take to graduate. but… that’s normally. having a class crush that you are so down bad over is not really normal for you though. you swear that he unlocked a new type for you, and that you could never go back to everything you have always said you liked in a guy previously. this guy was just… different.
somehow, you developed what honestly feels more like obsession than a crush on the emo boy who sits in the back corner of the lecture hall.
it had all started when you were running 20 minutes late… on the first day of class. naturally, by the time you got there almost all of the seats were full. you weaved your way back through the rows to one of the only spots available, right next to him.
from the few seconds you made eye contact with him you could have swore you had already soaked through your panties. his dark, smudged eyeliner lined eyes lingered on yours for a bit before he ripped them away from you to play with the several rings he had on his fingers. oh… the the things he could do with those hands.
you drank in his appearance, he had messy black hair tied up in two high buns and several piercings lining his ears. his face was adorned with an eyebrow piercing, a septum piercing, and a lip ring. a thin black line stretched across the bridge of his nose, and you wouldn’t be surprised if it was actually a real face tattoo judging by how heavily tatted the rest of his visible body was from the areas not covered by his baggy jeans and loose band tee. as he was moving his bag closer to his chair to give you a bit more room next to him in the cramped seats, his arms flexed revealing massive biceps and a few prominent veins marking his hands. wow… wonder if the rest of him is that ripped too?
despite slowly trying to get closer with him, he remained oblivious. or you thought so, at least. eventually, after several weeks of trying to make moves, you finally got somewhere. by sheer luck, and probably fate too if we are being honest, the professor had selected him to be your partner for the big end of semester project. he typed his name and contact info into your phone, also giving you his snap. while you don’t use snap much anymore, you certainly would be now. as he was handing you your phone back, his fingers brushed against yours and sent what felt like lightning bolts across your body. while you didn’t see it, his ears blushed and he had to turn away to “look for a pencil” in his backpack. this poor, oblivious boy.
the second you got home, you sent him the first snap…
Synopsis. A bad boy? Check. Your parents hate him? Check. Considers you the cute lil’ good luck charm for his high-speed street races? Check. But you’ll be riding more than just Choso’s car…
Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, racer!Choso, street racing AU, Choso with tattoos and piercings, talks of F1, small towns, gossip, slight good girl x bad boy, he’s so down bad, pússydrúnk Choso, oraI (fem rec.), he goes FÉRAL, spítting, fíngering, cúmming in his pants, he’s BIG, tummy buIges, making it fit, headIocks, manhandIing, Prince AIbert’s piercing, running from it, matíng presses, rough s, body worship, DÚMBlFICATION, creampíes, overstím, getting together, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 10.6k
A/N. I refuse to watch the F1 movie so this is the closest thing-
“Look at him-”
You sigh, “I know, he’s…”
“-bad news.”
“-hot.”
It was inevitable that you and your group of friends would look at each other with odd expressions at the clash. You always did whenever it came to him.
Choso Kamo - the star of your cozy lil’ town’s latest gossip.
You’d heard (well, it was impossible not to hear) that he’d just recently moved from the big city for an exchange program at your local university. Why anyone would willingly travel to some ramshackle town to be gawked at, you couldn’t understand.
“I’m just saying—” You’re grumbling, gaze flicking across the green campus to where Choso was seated underneath a lone tree, face bent into a book.
Your stare lingers on the twinkle of his ear piercings in the sun, “-he doesn’t seem that bad.” The dark, dark line tattoos crawling down the side of his neck. “Who knows? He seems almost…nice-”
Just then, he’s turning his head - precisely to meet your eyes.
Oh.
You can feel your breath hitch- and something at the pit of your stomach twists in a sudden lurch before you’re turning away in an instant. The glint of his deep eyes too stark, the intensity in them too burning.
“She’s right.” Shoko’s the first to pipe up from your right, tapping her manicured nails on the top of your campus bench. “I won’t deny that everyone’s being a lil’ hard on the guy just because he has a few tattoos and piercings.”
“And he’s a city big-shot with an annoyingly loud car.”
“And he’s a city big-shot with an annoyingly loud car.”
Utahime shudders, seated right in front of you so she has to turn at the feeling of Choso’s stare - who immediately looks away. “Well- fine. But it’s also the way he looks at…”
Your little group leans closer as she trails off, seemingly lost in thought.
Before nodding to herself in affirmation and narrowing her chocolate eyes- “-at you.” Unabashedly, she’s jabbing her index your way, as you sputter in protest, “No no, I’m serious! It’s like he- he wants to eat you or something, my dear.”
Shoko smirks, “Kinky.”
“Shoko.” You’re groaning, flipping back through your textbook to distract yourself, if anything. “Don’t let my parents hear you, Uta. They’ve warned me every single day since he’s stepped foot here to steer clear of him.”
Which wasn’t quite effective when you shared half your classes with the very man that haunted every nook and cranny of your town - and the minds of the people living in it.
And especially not when you couldn’t help but notice him during said lectures; tall, quiet, always seated at the very last row with his head in some car magazine, fingers twiddling with the chunky metal rings on his long fingers.
Not that you’re looking at him that closely, that is.
You find your thighs involuntarily pressing together as you’re hastily darting your eyes to Choso once more, taking in the subtle curve of his pierced lips. The slooow flutter of his long, chestnut bangs in the breeze- “Y’know they told me just this morning to never so much as let him look at me? Apparently some neighbor of a neighbor of a neighbor saw him driving late at night and assumed he was involved in everything shady possible.”
“Understandable.”
“Still dealing with the ol’ folks, huh?” Shoko grins as you wince, a reminder of the parents that absolutely refused to let you hold your own in one of the university dorms.
Not quite out-of-the-ordinary for such a small community, but you still did feel a twinge of envy whenever Shoko and Utahime happened to mention something about them being roommates.
“You should just move in with us, y’know- fuck whatever the lease lady says, we have more than enough room.”
“Ah, one day.” Clearing your throat, you’re standing up- “Anyways, I should really get going before I miss my lab time.”
“Aw, Yaga keeping you late for another project?” Your friend muses as Utahime grabs onto your skirt with a protesting whine, trying to tug you back down onto your seat with all her might. And it’s a small chaos that erupts in a few surrounding giggles, a stray eyeroll or two - and for a certain dark-haired man to spy up from his motor book.
Heady eyes locked on the scene, his gaze seeping right through your body. Choso tilts his head with a glimmer of interest that leaves your mouth dry no matter how many times you swallow.
Oh, he looked just devilish.
You struggle to keep your voice even, “Yeah. Lab project.” And before you make your escape, you’re stealing one last glimpse at him- “No need to wait up, I’ll find my own way home.”
.
.
.
You were definitely, absolutely not finding your own way home.
And it was all your fault of staying way too late behind class hours, glued to one of your most important finals projects.
“Dammit. Dammit.” You’re whispering to yourself as you check the time flashing on your phone - just a little past 10PM, you’d already missed the last local bus.
The university was so empty that you could hear your own heartbeat thumping in your eardrums, in rapid unison with your footsteps. Leading up to the campus parking lot, a quick check showed you only a few stragglers that you didn’t know.
With a sigh, you make sure to stand underneath where a streetlight was overspilling its glow, weighing your options in the dim atmosphere.
You could call Utahime for a ride - or maybe your parents? But as much as you loved them, the multiple earfuls you’d get on ‘responsible time management’ was enough to have you closing out of your Phone app.
Maybe you could (affectionately) blackmail Shoko into borrowing Utahime’s car? No, the one time you two decided that was a good idea, the other girl had given you both a lashing that had you bowing at her feet for weeks.
Swearing underneath your breath, you’re opening up the Uber app and making appalled note of the prices. Ah, perhaps you were just meant to sleep here tonight. “I’d rather beg for a ride from Yaga-”
And then you hear it.
You’re sure that anyone within a five-mile radius hears it, in fact- that low, infamous vrrrr— that made the ground beneath you quake ever-so-slightly. It was the very noise that roared past your quaint neighborhood streets at night, the very noise that your parents made sure to complain about every morning after.
And there was only one man who would drive such a behemoth.
Choso’s midnight black Ford Mustang glistens as he’s lazily pulling up to the flickering streetlight, taking up nearly the entire pavement. Too fast, too be lost, too slow to be heading for anywhere but you were - you can only gape as his tinted windows pull down almost silently.
Almost smugly.
The first thing you’re spying is the glimpse of a pale, beefy forearm gripping onto a leather-clad steering wheel. Tattooed and toned.
And then it’s him - Choso Kamo, in all his glory.
“Need a ride?”
You’re blinking, voice never quite reaching your throat- “Wh-what?”
The first sound of your pretty, pretty tone and his hand tightens on the wheel - as if he’d just been zapped by volts of electricity.
He chuckles softly like he’d expected this, stray arm coming to scratch nervously at the back of his neck. And you don’t know whether you’d simply been standing out in the cold long enough to muddle your mind, but you swear that Choso’s ears tint a bright red. “I uh- I wouldn’t mind dropping you off home…or wherever it is you need to go?”
Expectantly, he’s searching his molten eyes up for an answer. But the longer Choso stares, the longer your silence stretches - and the darker the tips of his ears flush.
“If- that is, if you don’t have another ride coming for you of course.” He’s peering his irises around, as if expecting one of your friends to pop out from the bushes any second now. Words running a mile a minute. “Sorry for assuming, I just saw you here alone and- oh, p-promise it wasn’t anything creepy I just notice y- fuck, I messed this up.”
And his shy smile withers, replaced by the anxious twiddle of his silver snakebites. Hand reaching for the gear shift now- “I should just-”
“No, wait!”
You’re calling out before you can stop yourself, and it’s like Choso’s body listens to your words before his brain does. Because he’s halting in his tracks with a comical yelp, enough so that you have to stifle a smile.
“I uh…I don’t have a ride, actually.” You’re telling him, with a deep breath.
And it’s only with a final glance ‘round your surroundings that you’re confirming Yaga really wasn’t here and you really couldn’t bother him instead.
Looking down at Choso and oh- he’s staring up at you with stars in his eyes. Curved grin urging you to speak- “If it’s ah- not too much trouble, I would really appreciate a ride back home.”
“Yes- yes, of course.”
And as if he’d not just been two seconds away from speeding down the pathway in embarrassment, he instantly lunges out from the driver’s seat. Speeding to the other side of the car and holding the passenger’s wiiide open for you.
You’re slightly taken aback by the manners, by the innocent smile that suggested he’d never even thought of anything less. “Oh!” Making sure you’re safely buckled before gently shutting the door, “Thank you?”
“Any time.”
You can’t lie to yourself and say that you’d never imagined what the interior of Choso Kamo’s notoriously intimidating car might look like. Feel like.
You just never imagined it to be as close to heaven as you could get - all luxurious woven seats and a touchscreen polished enough to mirror your awed face.
You’re running your hand down the side of the car as you give directions to your home, your family would never even let you get close to a ‘deathtrap’ like this. And as Choso starts driving, you can’t help but breathe in that slightly bittersweet lavender scent of him, clinging onto the interior.
“This…this is-” You’re grappling for the words as he’s shooting a kind smile your way, “So all those car magazines aren’t just for fun, huh?”
Choso’s lips twitch, “You noticed. Yeah- a 2025 Ford Mustang Dark Horse.” Tapping the wheel reverently, “My pride and joy.”
“I can tell.” As he looks at you curiously, “My family, we ah- we can hear you driving down the street sometimes, it’s incredible.”
Snickering, “Bet the neighborhood hates me then. With good reason, this thing goes from 0 to 60 in four seconds. 500 horsepower-”
Then there’s a look he shares your way - something the complete opposite of the nervous, stuttering boy he’d been earlier. Perhaps closer to all the whispers that shrouded him instead- “-without modifications, that is.”
And you didn’t doubt that he’d made many.
“So how fast can you really go?” You’re asking with a quirked brow, slightly leaned over the console to take in all the numerous meters on his side of the seat.
The heat of your proximity makes Choso bite back a gasp- “Trying to find out?”
There’s something in his words - his tone.
“What if I am?”
“I-I’d advise you against it.” He’s answering easily, the thickness of his thumb toying with the gear shift in dizzying circles. “Don’t you know what everyone in this town says about me?”
“They say a lot of things-”
“The loudest being that you should stay away.” Long, dark locks fall over his features as he nods, pulling to a stop at a barren red light. Darkness inking beyond his headlights, as if the only living beings on Earth right now were you, him–
“You know, I don’t care what they say if I don’t truly know you.”
“Let’s- let’s just drive slow, get you home safe and you can forget about m-”
VRRRR—!
And the assholes that had pulled up to the side of Choso’s car.
Gesturing him to lower his window, the boisterous voices from the neighboring vehicle hit you instantly. “Oi- nice car!” And before Choso can seemingly thank them, they’re revving up the engine of their own. “Would hate to embarrass ya in front of your girl, though.”
“She’s not my-”
“Why doesn’t she come with us?” One of their troupe of men lean out of the window, “We can show her a real fast car.”
You grimace, taking a glance at the still-red light. “Ew.”
“Oi-”
Your savior turns up the engine of his Mustang, cutting off the other man cleanly - and just a peek his way shows you his darkened eyes. Eyes hooded, face bathed in red from the traffic stop. Tone hard enough that you’re wondering whether this was the same man from just a few minutes ago. “Those are fighting words.”
Orange now.
A sleazy cackle rings out, “That so?”
“You’re asking me?”
“No, I’m asking your gir-”
Green.
You’re instantly sunken deeply into the cushion of your seat as Choso speeds off- tailed closely by the Mercedes of your unwelcome guest. So fast that your surroundings are a blur, so hard that you can barely even move your mouth-
“A- a race?” You’re managing out.
“And we’re gonna win.”
Speeding; and you have a slight feeling that Choso was barely even trying as he’s looking over at the rearview mirror to watch the flashing headlights of his opponents.
Muttering underneath his breath, he shifts his gear with a clack to burst in speed- “Fucking imbeciles.” And if you thought his car was loud before, then you weren’t ready for him to smash the Sports Mode on his touchscreen and make the engine keen deafeningly.
“Hold on tight, my girl.”
Clack!
“Shit, a fucking Mercedes, huh?”
Clack!
Clack!
Another gear shift, and you’re seeing the trees of the landscape mix into one great splash of mere green. Choso flicks his eyes over in the side mirror only once- before the entire car swerves to the right to block off the Mercedes. “Fucking imbeciles.”
“Ch-Choso.” You’re gasping out, holding onto your seatbelt for dear life. Fuck- you think you’re seeing the line on his speedometer jerk upright as he steps harder on the gas pedal.
“Yeees–?”
Your finger trembles - whether from fear or adrenaline, you have no idea - when you’re reaching it somewhere past the windshield. Eyes nearly bulging out of your skull once you take in the familiar road, “There’s a bend coming around. Hard.”
“Perfect.”
Clack!
You’re hitting the large dip in the road before you know it- thrown in so hard against the left side of the Ford Mustang that you claw onto Choso’s arm. Reached right over the console to grab onto his flexed biceps, “Heh.” He looks down at you through lowered lashes for a second, “Told you to hold on tight.”
Gaping speechlessly, you dig your nails against his pale skin and watch as he bites down on his lower lip.
Fingers tilting down the rearview mirror, “And now, for those bastards.”
Bracing yourself, you manage to garner up enough strength in your body to raise your front off of him - only mildly mortified about being thrown around like a ragdoll by his driving. Taking a quick glance behind, “Oh, they slowed down for the bend.”
“Mhm, told you we’d win.” Choso grins, easily flicking off the Sports Mode for an easier regular one. You’re cruising smoothly down the velvety road, Mercedes long out of sight and out of mind. “You’re like my good luck charm- that means I better get you home safe n’ sound now..”
And that’s exactly what he does.
No more races, no more assholes on supercars - you’re turning into the suburban street of your tidy neighborhood without another hitch.
Well, if you don’t count the rumbling engine that was sure to disturb all the neighbors, that is.
But strangely enough, you can’t seem to bring yourself to care as much as you should. Not even when he’s slowing down by the familiar driveway to your house, not even as you watch the lights inside flick on at the noise.
Dwindling into a low purr by the time that Choso stops- “A-about before- I am so sorry about that, I don’t know why I let them get to me and-” He’s running a hand down his pretty features, “-and I promised myself I’d be good for you but-”
“Are you kidding me?” You breathe.
“I’m sorry.”
“That was-” He winces, waiting for your outburst. “-amazing?”
Choso’s fawny eyes widen, “What?”
“That was the most alive I’ve felt in ages.” You’re starting, “I mean- sure, I wanted to throw up a little but I promise once the nausea stopped it was really fun. And did you see the look on their faces- pffft, those assholes deserved it. Fucking- Mercedes.” Against all judgment, you’re gripping onto his broad shoulders just to shake with emphasis. “I didn’t even know you could drive like that- have you ever considered real racing? Fuck, I wonder if you could go even faster with this beauty.”
Now it was his turn to be awestruck. Soundless. And suddenly you’re understanding just how self-conscious he must’ve been back at the campus.
“Hello?”
“…”
“I mean…oh, what am I even saying.” You couldn’t grab your bag fast enough, hastily opening the door. “Thank you for the ride!”
You make three steps to your front porch - exactly three for Choso to snap out of his little reverie and chase right after you.
Long legs striding up, one of his matching exactly two or more of yours- a large hand catching your wrist, soft breath striking your face once he pulls you back. “Wait.”
Pants desperate, voice pleading.
You’re staring up at him so close that you could count each of his glinting metal piercings - those two sensual snakebites on his lower lip, one on his left eyebrow, several dangling upon both ears. And you swear you see one wink out from the tip of his pink tongue as he’s opening and closing his mouth.
“Do you-”
“I hope-”
You both speak at the same time, huffing out in slight amusement. You gesture for him to go, and he insists, “Ladies first.”
“Fine.” You’re letting him have his way, and the defeat is not nearly as bitter as how sweet it was watching Choso beam down at you from his height. “I just ah- hoped I didn’t weird you out or anyth-”
“Never.”
He says it so seriously that you almost find yourself taking a step back- almost, because he still had his warm fingers curled softly around your wrist. As if he’d noticed your flighty demeanor, Choso drags you a few steps back with him, leaning against the side of his supercar. “Actually- would you like to go to a…thing-”
“A thing?”
“A place-”
“A shady place?”
“Yes-” Seeing the look in your gaze, “-but no! It’s just a race- a big one.” And fuck- he was finding it difficult to hold the line of your sight, ears scorching redder and redder every second you bored up at him. “And I want you there- if you would like to come, as my…” Choso winces, like he was despising each word spilling from his mouth. “-good luck…charm.”
You grin, “Is that a date?”
He squeaks- “If- if you want it to be.”
“Hmm.” Pretending to think for a second, you’re only deciding to let Choso off the hook after you watch as he genuinely, physically sweats a trickle of perspiration down his temple waiting for your answer. “It’ll be a date-” He gasps. “-if - and only if - you win first place.”
The grin you’re gifted with is devastating - and Choso Kamo doesn’t stutter a single syllable as he quirks a brow. As he leans in. As he bends down just enough that his deep, drawling words tickle your ear, “Oh, you’re gonna watch me win, baby.”
Oh.
And you’re still thinking of them even as you manage to waddle your feet back up to your house after exchanging numbers. Predictably, being met with a lecture from your parents and yet not registering a single word.
That is, not until-
“-and wasn’t it that boy?”
Snapping up at their disapproving tone, “Who? That was Choso, he gave me a ride when there was no one else on-”
“You should stay away, you know what they say.” Wagging a finger reproachfully, “How many times have we told you to stay away from brutes like that? And you just had to go and get fondled by the exact same one the entire town’s been talking about- and don’t lie to me, we saw you through the window.”
“Then you’d have seen that we were doing nothing.” You’re gripping onto your bag hard enough to tear, heart thumping with anger where it was once excitement.
“That was not ‘nothing’, girl. I thought we raised you better than that.”
“But-”
“All the loud cars and the tattoos. Mark my word he’ll end up-”
Mumbling, “He was actually really sweet…”
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“You’ll ruin your life.”
“I barely have one.”
With a long-weary sigh, you block out the rest of the screeching to head for your bedroom - the same ol’ innocent bedroom you’d had since you were a child. Throwing yourself over your bed, you scroll through the listings of studios in your university area, as you often did.
Except this time, you dare to bookmark one. Just one.
.
.
.
It was hard not to know when Choso Kamo stared.
Because Choso never stared, he never tore his eyes away from the glossy pages of his motorsports magazine, even during lectures. And you always did wonder how he managed to top the scores of each exam despite that.
Except for now.
Right now, you’re feeling the burning sensation of two dark peripherals on the back of your head - immediately making you swivel your own gaze behind you.
Lo and behold, there he was - pen tapping on the side of his plush, rosy lips, brows furrowed as if you were the toughest of calculations he just couldn’t figure out. But the moment your pupils meet his, Choso only grins.
Mouthing, ‘Tonight.’
Your veins bubble when you notice more than one pair of eyes from the lecture hall on the two of you, and the implication of something happening ‘tonight’ wasn’t lost on your little audience.
But you nod anyway, a reminder of what the two of you had been texting back n’ forth for days now. ‘Tonight.’
“What’s happening tonight and why are you eye-fucking Choso Kamo?” Shoko’s whisper infiltrates your little bubble - and many other nearby bubbles, if the way that a few students titter was anything to go by.
“Shoko.” You elbow her side.
“No no, I want to know too.” Utahime pipes up, “Have you learned nothing from the two-bit bad boys in those shitty Netflix movies we watch?”
“He’s not just a two-bit bad boy, he also has a car.” Shoko’s adding on, “And I heard my neighbor’s friend’s aunt’s cousin say that he’s an F1 hopeful-”
The other gasps, “Is it the athlete’s salary tempting you, my dear? Y’know, I’m old money-”
Groaning, “It’s not like that.”
Shoko’s glancing between the two of you - Choso back at his books now that there wasn’t anything more worthy of his attention. You were looking away, after all. She balances a pen on her upper lip in thought, “When did that even happen, though?”
After a few seconds of trying to hide in your hands wasn’t working - in fact, it only made Professor Gakuganji throw more and more increasingly disgruntled glares your way - you sigh. “Well…you two remember last week when I stayed late at the labs? And I said someone was kind enough to give me a lift?” At two matching nods, “It was…”
“Him.”
“Him.” Utahime shakes you by your shoulders, “He didn’t do anything weird, did he, my dear? Oh, do I need to kill-”
“Not at all—” You wave them off, deciding to tell them about the impromptu race later today - preferably at an open space where it would be more acceptable for Utahime to scream bloody murder. “He was actually sweet and…”
Utahime and Shoko gawk at you with wide eyes, and the shorter-haired of the two speaks. “…and?”
“And a bit…cute.”
The pen clatters to down, down, down to the floor.
Already interrupting the class enough, you decide to simply rip the bandage off in one go- “And we may or may not have planned a date for tonight.”
It turns out that you’d very unfortunately overestimated Utahime’s ability to control her scream in a closed educational environment.
.
.
.
It was electric.
You felt electric.
Choso leans over his seat to indulge in your personal space, and you’re sure you’d be melting if it wasn’t for the way that both your eyes were locked on one noisy opponent - that Mercedes.
Engine revving right beside the Ford Mustang, sour faces peeking through the window with a thirst for revenge - who’d have thought that your lil’ enemy from the street competition would wind up being your opponents in an actual street race?
Honestly, tonight you’d let Choso drive you deep into a dingy corner of the town you didn’t even know existed in all your years living here.
You doubted that anyone knew of this secretive scene.
Filled to the brim with as many supercars as your lonely roads could hold- hell, Choso had told you that some participants drove from multiple cities away solely for these races. They were lining every inch of tarmac like glitzy streetlights made to overpower, the type to have given half your town an aneurysm just to think about.
“It’s why I ended up here for my exchange program, y’know?” He was whispering in your ear, voice low in a way it was just for you. “The racing, the cars, the practice. I wanted it all before I went big.”
Dark eyes flickering briefly to you, “Didn’t think I’d find something else worth winning, too.”
Your breath hitched, you didn’t know what else to say to that. And Choso didn’t elaborate- instead informing you on the make and model of the cars that would be going up against him this time.
And the roaring cheers grow deafening by the time a woman in a glittering outfit waltzes over to the middle of the track, a handkerchief held carefully in hand. Her cheery voice chimes out. “Alriiight, I want a nice, clean race around town- not. You know the drill- all racers on go by the time the cloth drops. Ready—?”
Teasing the little fabric around, you can pick out a few stray shouts surrounding the car- “Choso? That’s Choso Kamo? No way he seriously brought his gal- the man doesn’t even know how to smile-”
“They say it’s his last official race before he goes pro- better show off then, eh?”
“Move move I can’t see- Oh my god it’s really him, shit, he has a girl, too. You think they’ll win?”
As you’re nervously toying with your fingers, you jolt at the sudden feeling of ice-cold rings sliding around your throat. One hand of Choso’s on the wheel, the other putting slight pressure on your neck to make you gasp. “Don’t you worry, baby. We’re gonna win this.”
“Set—!”
“Because of the date?” You watch from the corner of your eye as she’s waving the handkerchief ‘round like a chequered flag, raising it up, up, up—
“Because I have my lucky charm with me.”
“Go–!”
.
.
.
“Oh sh-shit.” A shrill whimper tears out from your throat the very second that Choso’s slimy tongue hits your inner thighs.
He’s just so long - so dexterous that the pinkish tip of him curls inwardly along your sodden panties. Lavishing the swollen folds of your pussy with a few kittenish licks, you feel yourself buck in need at the slight graze of his tongue piercing. “Fuuuck, Choso, you’re not even gonna take my p-panties off?”
“Haaa—” His scalding hot breath gusts out in a sticky pant, and you can only watch as his lips purse to spit straight down your slippery slit.
A fat glob of saliva that he’s smearing with the front end of his thumb, snickering. “No.”
And then Choso’s pursuing the quivering lips of your pussy like he’s a man starved - ravenous. Fuck, you didn’t even know how you got here.
It was a given that he would win that street race, coming in first among all the cars with an almost ridiculous lead. But it was only when Choso had kept driving - not even stopping to collect his cash prize - that you’d started to question what he had in mind…
And there you were- sprawled out across the back of his Ford Mustang and smearing the expensive seats with your sheeny slick.
He’d driven you to the edge of some romantic viewpoint, a place to watch the twinkling stars above - but right now, Choso was drinking in a much better view.
“Oh-” The edge of his sharp jawline strikes your cunt, “Oh.” And no matter how close he was, he wanted more - he needed to see your pretty pussy all up close n’ personal.
Using the knobbly edge of his thumb to pull your folds apart with a sluuuurp, Choso’s mouth just waters seeing you drip ‘round your stringy panties. “Congratulations to me.” He’s drawling, syllables shaky. “She’s better than any grand prize, my baby.”
“You’re just so filthy—” You’re whining, hips rutting off of the cushioned seats while he’s making out with your pussy through your panties.
Slap after slap of his mouth plastering to every inch of your hot core.
It’s as if he was just trying to make you even messier, with each side of those rosy pink lips drooling against your pussy. “Mmm, tell me something I don’t already know, baby.”
Slickly rovering his tongue up n’ down the line of your slit- you feel Choso hone his wet muscle until he’s aligned precisely towards your sloppy hole. Pushin’ against the barrier of your underwear like he’s attempting to thrust his way in, “Stop teasing me, Choso–”
“Teasing? Who’s teasing?”
Another push of his tongue against the cloth of your drenched panties and you shriek, just barely feeling the pressure of his mouth drag against where you really needed him the most. “Then eat me out properly-”
Mockingly confused, your pupils sprint all the way to the back of your throat as you’re feeling him murmur straight into your cunt. “M’not teasing, I just can’t see-”
“S-see?”
Looking down so fast that your chin knocks against your chest, in the dim street lighting you can make out the long mess of Choso’s hair. The way his unruly bangs were gluing to his forehead, half-obscuring his darkened gaze.
“Mmm, m’just doing what I can—” He playfully hums, so close that he was practically nose-deep n’ yet still refusing to make out with your pussy past your panties. “Oh, if only I had my pretty girl to pull my- oh, fuck.”
Choso doesn’t get to finish his damn sentence before you’re giving him exactly what he asked for.
“Is this enough?”
Your trembly hands plunged into his clammy scalp, tugging on his silky hair- enough for you to admire his pretty, flushed face. All twisted into a mean smirk, “O-oh, now I can see.” There’s something unsteady in his words, as if he was on the very verge of shattering. “Now just tell me where you want m-mmpf-”
Then you’re shoving his face between your legs and Choso moans.
Mouth slacked all the way ajar- lengthy tongue coming out to simply flick aside your ruined panties. “F-fuck.” Choso’s wastin’ absolutely no time prodding at your clenched hole and squeeze-squeeze-squeezing inside. “Lemme see her. Lemme taste her- my pretty baby.”
Rutting the front of his hips into the backseat, he clings two large hands upon each side of your hips to haul your pussy deeper against his mouth.
Primal tongue slobbering everywhere, he’s gluing his textured tastebuds to the roof of your entrance and watches as you squirm oh-so-cutely. Pushing n’ pushing until he feels the first pressure of resistance from your cunt, “Ngh- Choso, dunno if it’ll- fit-”
“But you’re a goood girl- aren’t ya, baby?” Reeling back with a dewy plop! to prod his tongue into each of your nooks. “So aren’t ya gonna take my tongue like hah- a good girl?”
Your hand claws to clamp your mouth shut as you feel him stick his mouth against your entrance and start to bully inside once more. “I- I don’t-”
“Ah ah, none of that.” Only to have one set of his slender fingers tug down your shaky hand, hearing your pretty whines like his favorite song.
Fuck, Choso can only let you buck wildly once he’s rubbin’ his tongue piercing along your clit. “You’re gonna be loud-” His tongue was just unfairly flexible, twisting around until the metallic orb near the middle hits down your nub with a splat! “Yeah- exactly like that, pretty baby.” He could barely even speak through each pressurized push, “Gonna let this, mmm, entiiiire fuckin’ town hear. And then-”
And then he’s throwing your boneless limbs over his broad shoulders, ankles locking on instinct ‘round the back of Choso’s neck.
It’s the change in angle that has you gasping, holding onto the cushions surrounding you for dear life when that only makes his mouth roam deeper- “-th-then you’re gonna fucking take all of my- ngh- tongue.”
Muffled, each syllable leaves your pussy all raw n’ sensitive.
Splashing out oodles of syrupy sweet sap each time the tip of Choso’s taste buds scrape the inside of your cunt. Stretchin’ out your poor hole to the maximum until you’re mewling at the sting.
Constricting widely, he’s shovelling your walls apart until you’re memorizing the exact feeling of his tongue. Pump after pump.
He wasn’t just hungry - it’s like he hadn’t eaten for eons with the way that Choso was grinding and grinding his face between your face. Each gyration of his tongue rendering you speechless, licking all over your sweetest spots until not an inch was left undiscovered by him.
You feel the glossy points of his snakebites stick against the base of your outer pussy and gasp.
“And then my cock next.”
“Oh- oh my god- ngh-” You babble away- was it possible to bottom out on a tongue? Because the curvy tip of his tongue was reaching all the way near your g-spot and you couldn’t help but sob.
Hands trekking down on instant to-
SMACK!
Your fingers twitch where Choso had swatted your hand away, crushing it within one of his. “But Choso-”
“And who said you could play with my prize?” He tilts his head, dark eyes narrowed in a way that looked almost dangerous. Plump lips twitching with a sleazy grin, “S’my pussy, baby.”
Before you know it, he’s guiding your guilty hand down to meet his maw. Slick-sheened fingertips finding their way just between his lips- oh, he was greedy for your sweet, sweet juices. He wasn’t about to let you have a single drop.
Sucklin’ on them like his favorite flavored lolly, Choso stares right into your eyes once he replaces what you wanted with his own fingers.
A drive-roughened index smearing open the edges of your pussy, “D’you know that?”
You’re shuttering your eyes in need, “Oh my god your fingers-”
Pressing just inside your hole, “Do you know that?” You can only let out a few more mindless wails in response, and he’s slipping a second finger against the roof of your core. “Need you to answer me if you want-”
“Yes- yes.” You claw against his strong wrist so hard that you’re leaving marks. Doing anything - everything to get him to go deeper, to sloppily fill you up from the inside with his fingertips. “Oh…mmm, please, Choso.”
“And don’t you forget it.” You’re being treated like a lil’ plaything - one thumb flicking your clit, two more scouring inside your glossy walls. “I’m taking my prize tonight.”
There’s a lecherous, resounding plop! as he manages to fully sink in the two prolonged fingers all the way till his knuckles hit the slope of your pussy. The curvaceous edge of Choso’s index easily mazing past to locate your throbbing g-spot, “Oh fuck- so deep- ngh, so…”
Only letting off once your own fingerpads are licked all clean of your slick, he hastily pushes his face back into your treacly cunt. “That’s it, thaaaat’s it. Fuck up into m-me- into my face.”
And he had you have you on his flushed face - Choso needed you on his face.
Right then and right now, it’s like he’s fighting against himself for a mere piece of your pussy. Like the sweetest dessert in the world, he laps up every slimy ounce of leaky slick- wide tongue draaagging in circles ‘round and ‘round your sensitive hole.
One that was being absolutely pummelled by his fingers, he’s filling up every slick orifice with the curve of his digits. Hooking them so they thrash right against your g-spot-
“This is how ya do it.” You swear you watch as the mountains of Choso’s knuckles turn red with the slamming impact of his pumps, “Look at her- mm, just look. Now this is a winning celebration, huh?”
“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck-” Your pupils are speeding in stupid circles within the whites of your eyes, hands twitching on his brown locks. The metal of his snakebites snag against the sensitive part of your folds and your legs shake, “It just feels too good- hck!”
Dragging down his handsome face harder against your pussy- and the manhandling force makes him rut. Crushing the rock-hard outline of his bulge against the carseat, “Too good, huh?”
And then the unthinkable happens - Choso dares to pull his long, hammering fingers out of your pussy.
Instantly latching his pearly white canines onto your clit to bite so you can’t get out a single complaint- he’s forcing you to be patient as he reaches for something in the back pocket of his trousers. “Don’t you move now.” As you’re starting to push away from his shoulders at the sheer fucking stimulation making you see stars. “Don’t you fucking move.”
He’s serious about not letting you escape- one hand reaching behind his sweaty head. He grips both your ankles in one hand and locks them together, pinning them firmly together, dragging you to him.
“Excuse me for this, baby, I can’t take my hah- reward otherwise.”
In a split-second, his fingers are back to bullying between your puffy pussylips- but they weren’t the only thing pryin’ apart your bubblegum walls.
Oh.
With a gasp, you’re lurching your dazed head up as much as possible - watching in real time when Choso’s now-ringed fingers disappear between your folds.
Chunky, cold metal rings scraping your innards carnally, you feel him press a particularly textured one against the area of your nerves and see white- “Oh- oh my god, mmm—” Reaching for the very back of your core, he’s scissoring your cunt open to reach for your g-spot with a dull thud!
Pushing into each softened spot.
Your throat’s clogging with saliva again and again as he’s thrusting in n’ out, in n’ out, in and- “I don’t think I’ll last.”
Fuck, that makes him push his raging erection against the cushion and groan.
“Then cum on my face.” Choso states simply, pressing a sweet lil’ kiss on your clit. Your quivering entrance splatters out a few speckles of glittery slick that latch onto his chin, “Cum on my mouth.”
Sticking his long tongue out, you can see the dot of his piercing glimmer in the dim lighting. Rovering down to swirl on your clit, he’s driving you wild with precise, prodding rolls right over your overstimulated nub.
It was a dual stimulation - and you should’ve guessed from all the expert driving, but he was damn near taking you to heaven with all the multi-tasking.
Clawing at your every gooey spot, the splotchy stains of your sap cling onto his lips like a gleaming medal. Every swirl of his greedy tongue on your clit making your back arch so cutely into his touch.
The flesh of Choso’s bottom lip teasingly juts out to tickle his snakebites along your slope, “Cum alllll over my tongue, baby.”
At this point you don’t know what to ogle - the vicious lashings of his mouth, or the way he just looked so pretty doing it.
Stray strands of his bangs falling over his forehead, ears burnt rouge, biceps flexing as he fights off the thrashing of your legs to keep you in one place.
“Oh- oh, fuck-”
“Yeah-” Your eardrums flood with the rickety sound of friction on his decadent carseat, and only then do you realize that Choso was humping it. Fucking you with his mouth the way he wished he could with his swollen cock right now. “Yeah yeah yeah- exactly.”
Honey-brown eyes locked right into the target of your own as he bucks n’ bucks his face deeper into your sloppy pussy. Wrist aching, mouth panting, but he couldn’t fucking stop.
You’re feeling him directly smash in a repeated one-two against your g-spot and choke- “I-I think m’gonna…” Trailing off, each n’ every word slurs together into one long call-out of his name. Thighs twitching as if you were electrocuted, “Oh, mmm- m’cumming, Cho-”
The only thing you can manage through your wobbly lips before throwing your head back and cumming.
Rushing into your orgasm so hard that it makes your ears pop! “I…I can’t believe I- fuck!” Your lashes flutter at the way he kept his probin’ fingers jackhammering through your high, blinking back tears. “Y-you’re only making it even ngh- better.”
Plap! Plap! Plap! The rugged joints of his knuckles nearly rub raw at the impact against your pussy’s slope, scouring against your poor battered g-spot.
Your hands were on his ready head, holding on to grind on those pretty features in sloppy drags. Zaps of your pleasure bursting at the feeling of his piercings on your flesh, “You really are filthy.”
And Choso was more than happy to have his mouth be used, have the tip of his nose be ridden.
“That’s it-” Eyes twinkling watching your cute lil’ hole spray him with flecks of slick, each peak of your high making you clamp down.
He’s slithering his tongue just vertically down your treacly cunt to try n’ bully it greedily inside. Swabbing with the metal of his tongue piercing, and you think you see white. Head throwing back at the sheerly raw stretchhh—
Yearning to feel the way your goopy innards squeezed ‘round his muscle once more, “Tha’s it- oh, baby, clench like that and m’gonna cu- fuck.”
Too late.
Too late; Choso was already feeling your snug, dripping insides melt around his tastebuds and he was already creaming his pants. A dark, dark stain forming where his leaky orifice kept wadding out seed- the man takes a glance down and tuts.
“S’all your fucking fault, y’know?”
“M-mine?” And by now your wave of euphoria was nothing but a few tingles here and there- so Choso’s lifting himself out from between your trembly legs. Albeit with a sloppy last French kiss on your sopping pussy. Two.
Three.
Four- fuck, you had to be the one to wrench Choso away by the base of his perspired bangs. Leaving a few jet-black stains of his eyeliner smeared between your legs.
Forcing him to stop pussydrunkenly chasing the taste of your cunt, “Yes, fucking look at me.” He sounds gone. “M’addicted and it’s all y-your fault, baby.”
And he was dripping wet from his twitchy girth, so much so that his trousers stick to the upper half of his thighs like a second skin. Choso’s peeling his ruined pants and boxers off and oh-
“Fuck.” You’re gasping, in a daze. Eyes never leaving the hot, pinkish length that he’d just freed, “You’re so…”
Big.
Huge.
Staggering.
Damn near nine or ten inches, and so pretty, too.
The cutest lil’ shade of pink on his globular tip, glistening with cum n’ covered with a few sparse veins that led to his happy trail. More than rock-hard, it looked painful. And was that- oh, fuck.
He had a fucking Prince Albert’s piercing - right there, dotted on the line of his sensitive slit. Choso slaps down his heavy cock between your legs and watches as you squirm at the feeling of him slipping n’ sliding between your folds.
From your distance leaned against the end of the backseat, you’re measuring him up. Eyeing the girth of him, fuck, he was fat enough that your legs squeeze-
“Now now-” Hastily, he unsticks your clammy thighs and flips you over onto your front. Leaning his weight down on your back to keep your restless body pinned, “-none of that.” Tonality breathy, octaves higher. “None of that none of that- oh, you’re not getting off easy tonight, pretty baby.”
Somewhere along the line of you ogling his impressive length, Choso had taken off his rugged band t-shirt. And fuck- you didn’t know which view was better.
Because he was naturally ripped - all lean abs and pecs that jiggled once he’s leaning down. Your mouth waters when you take in the piercings going through his rosy nipples, the draconic tattoos going down his neck.
You’re craning your head, now on all fours. “I-I could’ve guessed.” Sheepishly, as he’s aligning his thick, throbbing cockhead against your entrance.
Choso pulls back on your tattered panties with a snap! “We’re gonna give this entire town something to hah- talk about.”
And that’s exactly what he does.
Because the moment you feel his reddish crown bulge between your folds- you almost bawl. The utter primal stretch so much that he’s clawing onto your hips to keep you still.
“Come on.” Choso spits into your open mouth, one of his free hands pressing up on your tummy - hard - just to feel that sensation of his large outline spearing through your walls. “Come on come on-”
“Fuck- fuck, Choso, you’re in s-so deep-”
“Here’s the finish line.” You hear him titter from above you, index paintin’ an invisible line somewhere about halfway down your stomach. Right where his target of your womb was.
And before you can get out a single word, he rears his hips closer and makes you see stars. Closer. Deeper. The curvy weight of his tip bullies between your first ring of muscle, so thick that you can barely even clench. “First, m’here-”
You gasp, “Wh-what-”
“The- the starting line-” He’s hissing out, deliciously rutting a meager inch back n’ forth just to make you feel the way your entrance was gaped to the max. “Now I’m…”
With a hand pressed down to feel your cute tummy bulge, Choso’s fat cock slips further down your walls. Easing in after such a raw, primal squeeelch-
“-here.”
“Oh- my god- I can’t believe-” You whimper, nails clawing at the faux leather for all he was putting you through. Just a few more solid inches, a few more visceral bucks of his hips and you’re babbling stupidly. “Are you ngh- are you there yet? Are you even halfway?”
“Mmm, not quite.” Choso twists out a grin.
Free hand snaking between your legs to lap up a few ounces of your sappy slick, mixing with his cum from before. It’s such a filthy concoction, and it’s exactly what’s being used to draw a line right over your tummy.
“M’here and then-” Another rut, another line - higher upwards this time. The fat, aching length of his cock was slickly mazing between your walls and making your head spin. Tapping that lil’ spot with his pointer, “…h-here.”
Until you could feel every pulse, every vein.
Choso Kamo didn’t even have to try to fill your poor channel up, his vein-decorated shaft poking into every tiny crevice and cranny. Until you felt like you were being molded to his very size.
“And- and then-” Even he wasn’t immune to the completely carnal feeling- your cunt was just too hot, too soft. He’s pokin’ his pointed tip into one of your tender spots and throwing his head back at the way it makes your glossy walls tighten. “-finally-” Rutting. Half-thrusts. “-here.”
Hitting your cervix dead-on, right with his pierced part.
“H-heh…the grand prize.”
Shit, all this effort putting up a cool front and that very first thrust shatters Choso.
It makes him gasp, it makes him stutter- groaning out your name in a gravelly tone like a mantra.
“Fuck- the…grand- oh.” He’s babbling away his own joke, planting yet another thorough slam all the way to the back of your pussy. Hard enough that the vehicle quakes.
Strawberry-pink tip swelling up just a bit more at the impact. Sheathed until those curly dark hairs at his base, and Choso chuckles like he’d just stumbled across an epiphany. “Your cervix- I hit it- got s-second place, too.”
Second place…?
You blearily blink your eyes, saliva flooding at the pure stretch. “Are you-”
Pap–!
“And third-” In a sultry split-second, you’re being pulled back by one of Choso’s beefy biceps - in a fucking headlock. His pierced lips kissing the side of your face, “Got third, too, baby- are you p-proud of me?”
Your hands fist in his silken hair- “Yes- Yes yes yes- ngh, it just feels too good, Cho.”
There’s a sudden slurp, and suddenly the two of you are snapping your heads back down to watch how your stimulated pussy grows even wetter. Spraying out syrupy slick with each of his furious pumps, every slam leaves his meaty thighs stuck to the backs of yours like adhesive.
A roughened thumb slithers down to spread your pussylips. “O-oh.” Just so that he can watch his achingly hard cock disappear from your winking hole. Studded piercing dipping in and out in and out in and out- “We’re gonna break this damn car, baby— Just like this hah- pretty pussy is breaking me.”
Headlock tightening, backseats creaking. “Ch-Cho, are you-” Another smash against the spongy layer of your cervix and he swears.
You’re peering into the tinted window of his Mustang and seeing the full effect of your sweet, candied pussy on him.
Head hunched, back muscles tense.
It’s like he was breaking - bit by bit with every swab of his cocktip against your deepest innards. The rounded globe of his orifice probes into the door to your womb and you find yourself drooling. “Choso, are you even ngh- okay?”
Choso’s long lashes bat, eyeliner smudging ‘round sexily, “No. Fuck.” Sizzling tastebuds lolling out to lick the salted tears streaming down your face. “Fuck- fuck, how could I ever be okay?”
You’re feeling his abs plaster against your spine, usin’ the weight to angle his roaming length even deeper. “A pussy as sweet as you- ohhhh.” Grunts departing into your ear following each rut after rut- “M’n-never going to be okay.”
Choso’s puffy veins drag against your g-spot and you whine. “H-harder.”
“Harder?” Something that sounds like a pussydrunk giggle escapes him, eyes wide. Feral. “Can you even handle harder, my girl?”
Huffing, the first thing you’re thinking to respond with is a sloppy nod. Your neck is barely even capable of keeping your heavy head upright by now, “Faster, too.”
Oh.
Oh.
You were fucked.
Because when you said ‘fast’, you didn’t think that he would act this rapidly. Taking barely a second - no, a nanosecond - to plunge his angrily hard dick out n’ flip your limp body over.
From the filthiest doggy position to having your legs ‘round his slender waist, his cock ebbing deep inside once more. The new angle easily lets his weepy girth map your walls, mazin’ inside like a searchlight.
Reaching your aching g-spot easily- “Hold on tight, my girl.”
And then he’s fucking your dizzy brain thoughtless.
Until the firm, steady frame of his supercar was shaking from side-to-side.
Plump, raging cock stuffin’ right between your folds to poke against the top of your cervix. Again and again. Thump after thump.
His piercing is so cold that it makes you shiver. And Choso takes extra care to make sure that his winding veins find a way to precisely scrape your most treasured spots.
One hand holding onto the right side of your face, gently brushing against the top of your cheekbone. “It feels so hah- good, oh.” The other toying with your pretty lil’ clit, “So good it’s driving me- fuck, crazy.”
Drawing out the cutest hearts with his thumb on your nub, Choso was just so gone that you swear his pupils were starting to turn heart-shaped, too.
Especially once he catches two of your hands snaking down the sweaty line of his chest- stopping right where the curve of his pecs were. Without a second thought, you’re fingering the sensitive area of his nipple piercings.
Choso arches, he shivers. “Heh, you’re fucking dangerous, baby.” Drilling cock overspilling your insides with a few sticky wads of precum as you tug on one of them.
You whine when he’s withdrawing the loving hand from your cheek to swab the cavern of your mouth. “That’s what they said about- ngh- you.”
“Mmm—” He lolls his head pussydrunkenly, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You’re sure that Choso’s leaving a few bites and smears of eyeliner for you to worry about later. Each word punctured with a thrash of his rotund tip, “Well, they don’t know me yet.”
“A-and I do?”
“Well…” And that makes the sinful man grin.
It makes him unload the hand from your ajar maw - removing it with a few stringy ribbons of spit. And it’s exactly that moisture that Choso’s using to write out your damn name on his left pec, right above his heart.
“You-” Your voice clogs up in your throat- because he wasn’t done. Far from it.
Because soon enough, the ringed fingerpads simply teasin’ your clit start to repeat in a pattern. A swoopy few movements that you’re realizing is his name.
C-H-O-S-O-K-A-M-O
Yours on his heart, his on your cunt.
Spelled out expertly on the buttony top of your clit, you’re seeing stars after each quick movement. The sharp turns n’ swoops of his name being branded onto you was almost too much to handle.
Which was exactly what he was looking for- and the tips of Choso’s plush lips twitch at the sight of you slowly edging towards your high. “Yeahhh, you fuckin’ do. Know me better than hah- anyone else here, my pretty baby.”
Throat breaking out in a sob, “I-I’m so close-” Pulling on his hair, thrashing up your hips. “Not gonna hngh- last too long, Cho—”
“Oh, yeah? Say my name like that- say my name.”
But you can’t say anything, really - because in a singular, fluid motion, Choso has your legs perched on his flexing shoulders. Your capped knees pressing down until they hit your tits- the realization smites you and you gasp.
“A-a mating press?”
“Whaaaat–?” Drawling out through a drunken hiccup, he gifts you three strikes with his Prince Albert’s on your g-spot. Thud-thud-thud. “Wanna see your gorgeous fuckin’ ngh- face when you’re cumming on my cock.”
This angle was perfect for glissading a line of pre straight across your g-spot, unstopping until he’s hitting the back of your cervix with a rattling thud. Speeding his sloppy tempo up until the smacks of skin-on-skin were downright deafening.
Ears ringing with the sappy squelches reeled out of you after every second of his rough cadence. With the way the car was shifting- “You’re just so- so filthy.”
“Mmm, only for you, baby.” Comes out the ragged response, something near the tailend of his sentence cracking. And so is his restraint. His sanity. “A-Always for you, baby.”
He’s driving into you as if he was crazed; toned pelvis of his stinging red, temple trickling with sweat, the fat circumference of his crownhead was leaving absolutely no spot unturned. Thumb nearly a blur on your clit, it makes you arch to have him rewriting his name over n’ over n’ over.
Choso’s simply ruining you from the inside out, and you can feel your body twitching already in response.
Pants hoarse- gone. He finishes off yet another signature twist of your clit - C-H-O-S-O. “Anything for you, baby.”
And then you don’t know who’s first - it’s simply crashing into both of you at once.
A long, blissful wave of euphoria that leaves your vision all white n’ delirious. You’re just so full- being stuffed to the very brim of your dripping wet pussy with his cum. Creamy white ropes that glue to the start of your womb n’ end up being stirred about by his length.
The only thing you can even think to do is wrap your arms ‘round Choso’s neck and give him a lingering kiss.
Mind spinning, stomach twisting - it’s probably the hardest orgasm of your life.
Feeling him moan into your mouth through each clench of your high, “Better than I’ve ever fucking- ngh, imagined.”
Oh, it was just too cute to have him confessing like this as he’s fucking you through his high.
Pushing each knot of sinful cum even deeper- “You’re better than a ngh- dream.” It makes him sensitively whimper to feel you clamping down at his words. Webs of ivory syrup sploshing through your channel like a second skin. “You might just be- oh, my dream, my girl.”
There’s just so much of it.
So much that’s spilling out. Coating his bulky base in a slathered ring of white, neither you nor him can even think to care about the stained material of the seats.
Only plowing probe after probe of his blushin’ tip to probe into your favorite spots, Choso leaves your toes curling at the pleasure of having him draaaaag out your high with his veiny cock.
And it takes you a few seconds to register his whiny words- “You- you really mean that?”
“Y-yeah…” He’s breathing out, in awe. Flinching when your fingers start to caress the crimson tips of Choso’s ears, “Meant every fucking word.”
“And I do, too.” At his slightly puzzled expression, you’re chuckling. “Remember the first time we met? I told you I don’t care about hck! anything this lil’ town says.” It’s almost too intimate having you brush away his bangs from his gawking eyes, but you couldn’t think of anything more fitting. “N’ I still don’t give a single fuck what they have to say-”
“O-oh.”
Choso ends up cumming again - simply from hearing those words fall from your beautiful mouth.
Except, this time, it’s dry. Just a single pearly bead of sap bein’ withered out, he juts the throbbing crown of his cock up against the roof of your cunt.
Knees planting deeper upon either side of your hips to give you a thorough slide of his exhausted, pierced cock. He’s cumming out near sparks by the time he spits out- “Your- your parents are gonna kill me.”
“My parents are gonna kill me.”
“N-next time-”
You knew he’d just bared his feelings out for you, but you can’t help but feel your heart flutter at the mention of a ‘next time.’ “-m’fucking you in your bedroom, my girl-” The raspy tone of Choso’s breath makes you shiver, up close n’ personal. “-while your parents are home.”
.
.
.
“Did you hear- they say that Choso Kamo races F1 and he’s-”
“Forget the racing! Did you hear he’d apparently taken her out- yeah, her, after that race last night and…well, I hear there were numerous noise complaints at that cliffside viewpoint.”
“Oh, my aunt’s her neighbor and she said the house was in chaos the entire night after she came back. Couldn’t even walk apparently.”
“He was that good?”
“Good enough that she packed her bags and moved into a place of her own, apparently.”
.
.
.
“Aaaaand Verstappen holds the lead but Kamo’s close behind—” You never did get tired of the revving thunder of the cars, the booming voice of the Formula 1 commentator fighting to be heard above them.
You’re leaning against the wall of the VIP box with Utahime and Shoko - meant only for family and friends, stomach churning as it always did whenever it came to the last lap of Choso’s races.
“Oh- oh! You can see Kamo weaving behind, ohhh it’s a tight one, ladies, gentlemen, and every folk in-between.”
It was honestly still surreal to be here, of all places, after everything.
After how many told you that he’d break your heart, and here he was holding it with him through each lap like he’d fall apart without it.
As the distance closes - all power, pressure, and speed - you’re yelling his name at the top of your lungs despite the fact that he won’t hear. “Come on— Cho–!” Waving about the flag with his number and color as all his tens of thousands of fans did. “Not too long for the finish line–!”
The announcer bellows, “Ah, you’ve got Kamo’s girlfriend, one of our most beloved F1 WAGs, yelling as the finish line draws nearer- so close! So close! Will he make it?” As that chequered flag raises, his familiar car speeds. “Push now, boy!”
His engine roars - and so does the crowd, split-seconds later.
“And in the final corner, it’s Choso Kamo who seizes the chequered flag—! He wins the Italian Grand Prix! What a drive! What. A. Drive.”
Choso doesn’t give a single shit about the few victory laps, he doesn’t even wait for a final discussion with his pit team.
Zooming right past the finish line and further along the main straight. Right where it was most visible to you from your seat, he’s immediately punching on the gas pedal and swerving the absolute monster of his racecar.
Right then and there on the tracks.
Right into the shape of a…heart?
You’re giggling behind your hands as the commentator cackles– “A celebration for his eighth win this season, Kamo shows off his title- and his love!”
Surrounding you, you can hear the crows coo and cheer, you can already taste the fizzy champagne being popped. And in nearly no time, your boyfriend has pulled his car up to the parc fermé - running right through the outline of a heart he’d drawn in celebration.
Running right up the stands to you-
But not into your arms.
No, not at all.
Instead, Choso Kamo drops to one knee right before you.
The audience loses it- and you hear the booming loudspeakers squeak. “Wait- wait’s what’s happening in the VIP box?! Choso Kamo- it can’t be-”
And Utahime, without a single word, digs inside her purse and throws a small, velvety ring box over within the blink of an eye. One that Choso catches with ease. And oh, he just looked so pretty.
The same boy you met all those years ago - lengthy hair mussed up from his helmet, rosy lips quivering, face flushed.
“Is everyone in the pits watching? Is everyone at home watching? This is absolutely sensational! Choso Kamo has just seized the moment to propose to his long-time girlfriend, an incredible celebration of love we’re seeing here on the tracks today.”
So in love.
Choso whispers, “It would be a dream…if you would marry me, my girl?”
Tear-filled, you can only nod.
“Ladies and gentlemen, and every folk in-between — we have a winner—!”
A/N. The things I would do for him cannot even be spoken into existence.
