Tongue Tied
starring tattoo artist!choso x reader (rec!)
summary: you’re left alone with your best friend’s quiet, mysterious roommate. What could possibly go wrong?
content: MDNI 18+, fem!reader, tattoo artist!choso, alt!choso, pierced!choso, stóner!choso, plug(?)!choso, hair-down choso, no use of “y/n”, pórn no plot, maybe some plot, high séx, elements of dubcon, oral séx (f!receiving), hándjóbs (m!receiving), sqúírting, dumbification, piv, size kink, CHOSO IS LOWK POSSESSIVEE, dare i say yandere?, brééding, etc.
word count: 5.1k
author's note: picture credits from left to right: einruji07 on X, b___ashui on X, einruji07 on X | divider credits go to @strangergraphics | this was inspired by an anon rec from a couple months ago! i tweaked it a little bit, so plz forgive me (ó﹏ò｡) 🩶 also, MDNI 18+ if you are not 18+ i will block you.
choso's aux: dreams, fairytales, fantasies - a$ap ferg, sativa - jhene aiko, girl with the tattoo enter.lewd - miguel, nights like this - the kid laroi, swim - chase atlantic, right here - chase atlantic , chokehold - sleep token
“Where the fuck is he?” You mumbled anxiously underneath your breath.
You had been waiting inside Curseblood Studio for almost twenty minutes at this point, your phone long since dead by your side, thighs stuck to the plush leather of the parlor couch, and the thin heel of your boot tapping restlessly against the worn flooring.
The interior of the place was dim, and the reception area was entirely empty. It was 19:00, and you knew it was near closing hours (if not already).
Behind you, the soft pat, pat, pat of the summer rain tapped against the shop’s windows - a gentle melody accompanied by the faint humming of a tattoo gun somewhere deep within the shop, steady and distant, like a pulsing heartbeat thrumming in anticipation.
You were supposed to meet Suguru over an hour ago to catch the train into Chuo together. It was by order of Satoru, as the white-haired menace had practically begged the entire friend group to go clubbing with him tonight. But when Suguru never showed up at the station, you found yourself heading to the one place he was most likely to be: the tattoo shop where he worked.
Which, conveniently, just so happened to be situated right underneath the apartment that he shared with–
“You good?”
The voice was deep, soft, familiar.
You lifted your head, only for your eyes to land on… him.
Kamo. Choso.
The tall, tired-looking man had silently situated himself behind the counter without you realizing earlier. His dark hair, which normally was tied up, fell loosely around his neck, showing off his shaggy wolfcut. The dark inked slash that ran across the bridge of his nose contrasted well with the silver shark bites that adorned his pink lips, and his usual loungewear was replaced with ripped cargos and a black muscle tee, exposing his muscular arms and the gorgeous, dark red ink that wrapped around his pale skin in dizzying patterns.
His dark eyes met yours for just the smallest of moments, before quickly flicking away.
“Hi,” you murmured. You suddenly grew shy, feeling embarrassed for imposing well past his business hours. “Yes. I’m… good.”
He offered you a small nod in response.
The two of you knew each other only in passing. He was part of Suguru’s other friend group, and just so happened to be both his roommate and the other co-owner of the studio.
A reserved tattoo artist during the day.
An introspective stoner during the night.
During the numerous times you found yourself in your best friend’s apartment, you had only observed Kamo Choso from a safe distance: the hard planes of his bare back as he disappeared through the kitchen, the faint scent of old weed lingering from his room, and the sharp line of his jaw caught in brief, accidental glances.
It was only during the rare moments when the two of you awkwardly crossed paths, whether in the cramped hallway or the messy foyer, that conversation ever seemed possible. Yet even then, it rarely made it past a simple “hello”.
Which is why you found him so hard to read.
You truly couldn’t tell if the man genuinely disliked you, found you entirely unremarkable, or if he was simply the kind of person who kept everyone at arm's length.
Regardless, this was the first time ever where the two of you were addressing each other directly, without the chaperoning assistance of Suguru.
The quiet man rested his inked arms on the countertop that separated the two of you, silently letting his dark eyes wander over your body, taking you in.
Your hair framed your face softly, and every time you shifted, he could see the faint glint of the earrings that dangled beneath. The dress you wore tonight was short with a modest neckline, and the sheer black tights that adorned your legs accentuated the curve of your thighs.
Choso blinked, before wordlessly staring down at his hands, which had, at some point, unconsciously began to grip onto the countertop below him.
“I apologize for imposing on you.” Your words came out small as you looked up at him from where you sat, your nails tapping nervously against the frayed leather of the couch.
He shook his head almost immediately. “You’re not.” His voice came out a touch too deep, too serious, too rushed. He coughed lightly, willing his eyes to look at the clock on the wall rather than the mole by your lips. “Shop’s about to close though. You waitin’ on someone, or d’ya get bored and want some ink?”
You couldn’t help but release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, an endearing chuckle escaping from your prettily glossed lips at his dry words.
Cute.
“Hmm…” you smiled, playfulness laced in your voice, “unfortunately, just waiting today...”
He didn’t even have to ask. He already knew for whom.
Suguru.
Choso tsked, cursing the other man underneath his breath for keeping you, the most attractive person that’s ever stepped foot inside the building, waiting. You watched him with doe-like eyes as he scratched the back of his neck, his brow furrowed in deep thought, and his inked biceps flexing subtly under the lowlight.
A moment passed before the man in front of you spoke again.
“Well then. Wanna do some waitin’ upstairs?”
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The thick smoke from a dying roach curled languidly in the heady air between you both.
It had been roughly thirty minutes since Kamo Choso had invited you into his apartment, taken your phone to his room to charge, and returned with the disappointing news that Geto-Fucking-Suguru hadn’t left you a single notification.
It had also been roughly twenty minutes since he’d offered you his weed.
Which is how you both found yourself here, sitting on a large couch in his shared living room, Human Earthworm 4 playing in the background, Choso’s zip-locked stash laying haphazardly on the coffee table in front of you, and his extended leg mere centimeters away from your thigh.
He didn’t expect you to be able to keep up with him, let alone agree to his offer in the first place.
Smoking with company felt a whole lot nicer than smoking alone.
Though, he didn’t know if that was because it was with you.
He took a sip of his Asahi, before chancing a glance up at you.
The whites of your eyes were glazed a pretty pink, and you were already staring at him with hooded lids, your glossed lip caught between your teeth as if you were deep in thought.
He looked away abruptly, startled by the force of his own heart squeezing at the sight of you.
“You don’t like me very much.”
Your head felt heavy as it lolled to the side, lashes fluttering lazily with each slow blink. The observation left your lips with surprising ease, delivered in the same matter-of-fact tone one might use to comment on the weather or the color of the sky.
He raised a pierced brow, his eyes impassive and his jaw drawn tight.
“Pardon?”
You smiled at him as if you were amused, before reaching out to grab the perspiring can from him, your soft fingers grazing his inked ones.
How bold.
If you were any more sober, maybe you would have refrained. Given him his space. Maintained the formal distance that had always existed between you. You frowned at the thought.
You took a sip of his beer, a hearty sigh escaping your mouth as the cool liquid gave you some reprieve from the heat that permeated the room.
An unreadable look crossed his face as his eyes locked in on where the gloss on your lips left a faint mark where his mouth had been just moments before.
“You heard me, Kamo Choso.”
You regarded him for a moment, dark eyes probing him as if a dare.
And, despite his proclivity for solitude and his enjoyment of peace, at the end of the day, Kamo Choso was simply a man.
Game. On.
He wordlessly fished out another pre-rolled joint from his stash, settling it between his pierced lips before sparking his lighter.
A moment passed.
The movie played on in the background.
Outside, the distant horns of late-night Osaka traffic drifted up to the third-floor apartment.
He exhaled through his nose, letting the smoke unfurl between you, filling the space, before slowly turning his head to face you, his expression unreadable.
“Address me casually.” He spoke coolly, his voice deep and just a touch scratchy.
And it took a moment for your hazy brain to register the fact that he was not asking.
He tapped the joint against the ashpan on the table, before taking another drag.
You swallowed, heat beginning to pool in your belly as your legs clenched subtly at his words.
It was almost a tease, watching his strong jaw work as he smoked in front of you, and seeing the glimpses of hard muscle rippling underneath his cut shirt.
How gorgeous he was.
How breathtakingly intimidating.
And before you could even have time to register your thoughts, he’s shifting closer to you, his hand mere millimeters away from your leg.
“Open.” His voice was low and careful.
You quietly obeyed.
And his eyes were focused solely on your pretty mouth, on the way your lips softly wrapped around the paper of the joint as he placed it gently between them.
His large fingers brushed against your bottom lip, the metal of his rings cooling the heat on your skin, before tenderly grazing your jaw.
You quickly took a few puffs, trying to conceal your reddening face behind the smoke.
You removed the joint from your lips, letting it rest on the edge of the ashpan as you stole his beer again, doing anything you could to try and calm yourself down.
The corners of his mouth curled into a knowing grin.
“-And for the record,” he leaned in, his hand moving to rest against your knee, the warmth of his skin searing straight through the thin fabric of your tights. “I don’t share my weed with people I don’t like.”
And his face was so close to yours that you could see the flecks of gold in his glazed eyes, the smooth lines of his tattoo that ran across his nose, the reflection of the TV light within his brow piercings, and the way his tattoos crawled up his forearms and curled around his neck.
Your head began to spin.
The steady warmth in your belly began to manifest an embarrassing amount of slickness between your thighs.
There was no denying it.
He was attractive. So damn captivating.
So really, you couldn’t help it when the following words tumbled out of your sweet, sweet mouth:
“I think I’m gonna need more proof than that, Cho-so-kun~”
And despite your light, breathless voice and wavering grin, Kamo Choso was oh, so serious as he pulled you into his lap, muscular arms working to situate yourself on top of him as your dress rode up higher along your thighs.
Your hands instinctively reached out to prop against his hard chest, and the shock on your face had your mouth forming the cutest little ‘o’ for him.
His chest was firm underneath the fabric of his shirt, and he smelt faintly of smoke and peppermint.
The longer you sat on his lap, the more your breaths intertwined, his air becoming your own, and yours becoming his.
You couldn’t help it as your hand drifted up the broad plane of his chest, your fingertips skimming over the fabric of his shirt before running over the slope of his tattooed neck. Your touch lingered along his jaw, thumb brushing gently against the cool metal of his shark bites
So soft, so intimate.
He brought one of his hands to cup your own, keeping your palm pressed to his jaw, and your thumb resting against his lips.
“Deal.”
And then he’s turning his head to press his lips against your palm, mumbling something against your soft skin, before moving both of his large hands doowwnn your body, finding steady purchase on your hips, fingers spanning across your ass as he’s shifting you impossibly closer to him, until your warm cunt was pressed against his painfully large erection.
Your chest was now squished against his, your noses knocking, and your long lashes fluttering against his skin.
He could feel the stiffness of your nipples as it pressed into him, and he could smell the jasmine of your perfume that began to mix with the light perspiration on your neck.
His lips were hovering yours, his breath shaky as he stared down at you.
“Choso…” you all but whimpered to him.
And oh, how he loved hearing his name in your mouth. His dick lurched in his pants.
Which is why he’s sticking his pierced tongue out, running it softly along your bottom lip, before languidly curling it up, letting it slip between the seam of your parted mouth as he finally, finally kisses you, sucking you in, savoring the sweetness of your saliva and the softness of your tongue.
And you sighed, so prettily and dreamily as your eyes fluttered closed.
You could feel the heaviness of his erection now as it pressed against your clothed cunt, the tights you were wearing doing absolutely nothing to hide the pathetic dampness that already began to soak through.
His large hands began to roam, rubbing circles into your hips before running down to your thighs, slipping his calloused fingers underneath the seam of your little black dress. And then pushing up, up, up along your legs until the skirtpiece is thoroughly bunched around your waist.
And your mind was spinning, the head high from his weed making all of your senses feel so heightened.
His hands felt rough and dominating. His tongue tasted like syrup and felt like sin. The cool metal of his piercings sent electrifying jolts straight through your overheated nerves and all the way down to your throbbing pussy.
There was just something so addictive about him, the way he moved, the way he controlled the pace – something so captivating that all you could do was follow, willing your body into submission, making you want to obey.
He released your bruised lips with a small haah~
You blinked up at him, your pretty eyes dazed and cutely confused as to why he was stopping now.
His heart squeezed tightly in his chest.
With one hand on your waist, he’s gently reaching around you, carefully picking up the joint that was still burning away on the ashtray, and then placing it between his lips.
He inhaled slowly, methodically, letting his eyes lock with yours again, his gaze glassy and heavy-lidded.
Such a pretty little thing, you were.
And oh, how he wanted to keep you.
Mark you and bite you and claim you for himself.
Choso reached out, his large, ringed fingers lightly wrapping around your neck as he pulled you closer, pressing his mouth against yours again as he let the smoke lazily unfurl inside of you.
And the smile on his face was nothing short of sleazy as he felt another gush of slick escape through the now translucent material of your tights.
“Mhhhn. Easyy there,” he all but drawled into your ear, his hand still firm against your throat.
You couldn’t help but squeeze your eyes shut, your core twisting with embarrassment, shame and… arousal?
He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your neck, before resting the joint between your lips as he uses his other hand to lift the material of your tights higher, drawing the fabric taught to enunciate the folds and dips of your pussylips underneath.
He sucked a heavy breath in, his dick twitching at the sight of the soaked fabric, your quivering lips, and the impressively large dark spot that you were making on his pants just from kissing alone.
He was such a fucking goner.
“‘M not even close to done with ya yet,” he breathed, his chest starting to rise and fall almost erratically. “Not even close to provin’ to you…” his glassy eyes were slowly growing wild as his brain seemed to register something.
“Proof… You wanted proof, babygirl?” His low voice came out rough and partly delirious. He didn’t even give you a chance to speak before he’s using his large hand to cup your sex, the heat of his palm against you making you clench in anticipation.
You could feel your heartbeat throbbing in your pussy, pounding to a beat almost similar to his name.
Cho-so. Cho-so. Cho-so.
“I’ll show ya’ proof-”
And then he’s riiiipping the flimsy fabric of your tights apart, until your bare cunt lay fully on display before him.
“-And you’re gonna take it. ”
You didn’t even have a chance to respond before he’s pushing you down, down, down until your upper body rested against the cushions of his couch.
He leaned forward, holding the dying joint to your lips, letting you take another hit before he finished it off, taking one long drag before crushing the roach into the ashtray.
You try to keep the smoke inside of you for as long as you can, letting it settle in your lungs and course through your blood.
And it seemed like he was of a similar mindset as you.
Except, instead of exhaling into the already hazy air of his living room, he’s leaning down, until his flushed face is nestled between your damp thighs, his tattooed nose pressed firmly against your exposed clit, and his soft mouth latching onto your drenched pussylips as he blows the smoke inside you for yet the second time that night.
Your eyes squeezed shut, kiss-bitten lips tugged between your teeth, and cheeks flushed a sensual shade of rouge.
Everything was just so incredibly warm.
“Choso–!”
“Haah– this what ya’ wanted all along right? You just wanted me.” He’s lapping you up, licking fat, messy stripes against your folds, talking against your pussy almost breathlessly. “Say it. Say that you just want me. That you just need me.”
And your jaw is hinging, mouth parting, the words forming at the tip of your tongue–
Squeellchhh~
“Yess! Good girl! Such a good fuckin’ girl.”
It’s only then that you realize he was never even talking to you to begin with - in fact, he wasn’t just talking against your pussy, but to it.
You moaned, your chest heaving, your skin buzzing with every touch of his fingers and every lick by his tongue. You squirmed as he draagged his piercing through your folds, the smooth metal tracing a cool path on your blazing skin.
You could hear the sound of your blood pounding loud in your ears now, your heartbeat wild in your chest. Everything felt like too much, and not enough, all at the same time.
“M-more, Cho. Need more.” You panted out, your glassy eyes staring back up at him pleadingly.
“That so?” He grunted, the words reverberating throughout your cunt as he spoke between your lips.
You nodded, a tear slipping from your eye as the heat in your belly grew.
“Then get louder.”
And there was absolutely nothing that could’ve prepared you for when he pressed his pierced tongue against your clit, letting the metal ball press firm as he plunged his thick, ringed fingers inside of you, fucking into your tightness, pumping in and out and in and out, hitting and pressing and massaging that sensitive lil’ bundle of nerves deep within your velvety pussy. And you’re gasping shamelessly, your breah hitching and your back arching and your voice breaking as he’s fucking his fingers impossibly deeper, crooking them up until you saw stars.
You could feel yourself beginning to cream around him, your juices messily splattering across his maw.
And the way he was staring up at you had your tummy twisting in on itself, the unyielding heat pooling in your pussy growing hotter and hotter.
He stared at you through glassy eyes and heavy lids, his cheeks flushed the prettiest shade of pink, sweat running down his temples, and his warm tongue swirling his name onto your clit in agonizing lil’ loops.
Cho-so, Cho-so, Cho-so~
It was divine. It was hot. It was messy and wet and so fucking good.
You began to chant his name like it was the only one you knew, like you forgot your own entirely, like you didn’t even fucking care – because all that did matter was the wet sounds of his mouth sucking your clit and the squelching of your pussy as it echoed throughout the heavily smoke-filled room.
And you were doing so well, crying his name on both your lips, that he didn’t ever want to stop.
So, it nearly broke him when he had to release your clit with a little paah~
He leaned back, one of his hands still fucking his fingers inside of you as the other worked on unbuttoning his pants. His rhythm faltered for only a fraction of a second as he tugged aside his briefs, releasing his cock with a heavy thump! against his hard abdomen.
And…
Holy shit.
Your wide eyes ogled at him as your mind fully fucking short-circuited.
He was large.
He was pierced.
And he was inked.
You let in a small gasp, your glassy eyes trying to take it all in: the tattoos that wrapped around his base, the sheer fatness of his girth, the angry veins that climbed up his cock, and the glinting metal on the underside of his shaft.
Another warm gob of slick slipped languidly past your lips, making a trail through your soaked folds before finding home on the damp couch cushions below.
And a burst of pride swelled in Kamo Choso’s chest at the way you were looking at him, at the way your pretty pussy was crying to him: so cute, so pathetic, so needy.
He swatted his hand against your swollen cunt, relishing in the little aah~ that escaped your kiss-bitten lips.
“You’ve been doin’ so well, babygirl,” he breathed.
And you were so dazed, so stoned and blissed out that all you could do was whimper in response.
Slowly, he pulled his ringed fingers out of you, his hand and wrist soaked fully in your release. He hummed, a proud smile pulling across his features as he languidly wiped your juices over his already leaking cock, before slowly, teasingly jerking himself off.
It was transfixing, to say the least – watching as he gripped himself at the base, his heavy dick bobbing as he pumped himself, pushing thick pearls of pre-cum up, up, up through his slit.
His breath stuttered as you reached out, curiously tracing your fingers along the underside of his shaft, pausing his ministrations.
“I thought…” you began, your eyes locked onto where the veins on his dick pulsed in anticipation. “I thought you still had somethin’ to prove to me?” And your eyes were wide and doe-like as you menacingly spread his gooey pre all over his throbbing tip.
“Oh I do, don’t I,” he drawled, leaning over your body, caging you in, as his hips dipped down to meet against yours. “How could I even forget.”
And then he’s slipping his cock against your soaked folds, coating himself further in your slick, rolling his hips so that you could feel him, all of him, from base to tip.
You mewled at the sensation of his heavy dick pressed against you, using you, and the metal of his piercing meanly rubbing past your pulsing clit.
“There ya go,” he crooned, his mouth licking hot stripes by your ear. “Jus’ like that now. I like it when you're loud f’me.”
And he keeps his pace, rubbing against you, letting the weight of his leaking tip tease lightly against the tightness of your hole, before retreating, always retreating, slipping and sliding against you in painstaking loops.
You could almost cry.
You could almost scream.
And then you’re clawing at his back, at his hair. Digging crescents into his shoulders. Begging him to go. Begging him to do something. Begging him to fuck you.
And the grin that formed on his face was positively wicked.
“Deal.”
And then he’s presssingg his thick cockhead against your entrance, the cool metal of the piercing rubbing against your warm lips, as you slowly began to swallow his tip whole.
You’re gasping, your hole stretching to accommodate for his girth, for the extra metal that he wore on his skin..
“Holy fu–” his eyes screwed shut, his breath ragged, and his chest rising and falling erratically at the sensation of your warm, gooey walls wrapping around him in an overwhelming kiss, squishing and massaging against the sensitive underside of his tip.
He could’ve nutted right then and there, your wet pussy squeelching as you squeezed around him.
For a moment, he forgot how to breathe.
“Fuck, you’re just a cruel lil’ thing, aren’t ya?”
And you don’t even have time to respond, don’t even have time to think, because he’s forcing himself in, spearing your gummy walls apart, burrowing his dick deep within you until it felt like you could feel the metal of his piercing practically smooching against your cervix.
Your eyes roll back into your head, the air feeling as if it had been knocked from your lungs from the sheer length of him.
“Haah~ knew my baby could do it f’me,” his deep voice cracked, his glassy eyes wild as he gripped firmly onto your hips. He started to buck into you, fucking himself deeper and deeper, until all you could hear was his skin slapping against yours as he molded your pussy to the shape of him, rubbing his cockhead against your g-spot savagely, ruthlessly, animalistically.
“Knew you’d be able to take it,” he was grunting now, his words choppy and he veins on his neck popping from the sheer force of his dick pounding against your cunt. “Knew you’d feel this good while I prove to ya how much I fuckin’ like ya.”
Your traitorous heart swelled at his words, your tummy fluttering, pleasure building, and your pussy gripping onto his cock like a lifeline.
His pierced mouth found yours again, his tongue meeting yours in a messy french. Drool started to spill from your lips as his pace quickened, the wet sound of his balls smacking against your soaked cunt filling the hazy air around you. Everything was getting hotter, stickier, clumsier. His hips were beginning to stutter, and his breaths were coming out in short, quick pants.
And his tip just kept pressing exactly into that spot you needed most, the smooth metal of his piercing rubbing your nerves in ways that had your toes curling, skin tingling, and head absolutely reeling.
And you could feel it – your legs trembling, your ears ringing, the absolute peaks of your orgasm rippling and running through your body in overwhelming waves as his fat, leaking cock fucks into your womb.
“Shit–I’m–” his jaw tensed, his muscles flexing as he willed himself not to cum.
His dick was almost halfway outside of your gooey hole when you blinked up at him, teary eyed.
“C-Cho…” you were barely coherent, sputtering and gasping. “More.” And then you’re wrapping your legs around him, locking him in, pressing him flush against you, pushing his cock back inside you, refusing to let him go. “Need more proof,” you whispered.
And oh, of course he had to oblige.
Especially for you.
Especially like this.
“Yes, babygirl” was all he could breath out as he messily fucked you through your orgasm, pumping his cock in and out and in and out of your squelching pussy.
He watched, entranced, as he could see the soft bulge of himself in your tummy from where his dick was buried within you.
It was just all too much, too warm and soft and wet and tight, that his vision turned blurry, his lungs squeezing, and his chest heaving, as his thick, ropey cum forcefully painted your womb white, stuffing you full.
And, despite the absolute mess, he tenderly pressed a kiss to your temple, letting his mouth rest against your skin as he shallowly fucked his seed inside you, riding through the peaks of his own high.
For a moment, the two of you just stayed like that, his body warm as you breathed in each other’s air.
“Stay tonight?” His voice was soft, almost uncertain.
Your heart tugged against your ribs.
“Okay.”
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You snuck out of his bed before he had the chance to wake.
You blamed it on work. On responsibility. On the long list of reasons that made leaving feel like the right thing to do.
It was for the best, you kept repeating to yourself.
The two of you had been stoned last night. Perhaps even a little crossed. Those were all facts.
And this was not your first hook-up. You knew how it always went. You knew that by the time he would wake, you’d see it on his face: the embarrassment, the awkward realization, and the forced post-sex niceties
You knew how it worked – so why risk spoiling a beautiful(ly perverted) memory?
Your heart squeezed, and your stomach twisted into an uncomfortable knot.
It was nice, for what it was worth.
Your thoughts were a blur as you hurried back to your apartment, too focused on putting distance between yourself and the warmth you’d left behind. And it wasn’t until you sat down at your desk that you noticed your phone was still dead, its screen dark and lifeless in your hand.
He never charged it.
You sighed, plugging the device into power as you began to ready yourself for the work day ahead.
And it was only after you finished making yourself a cup of coffee and settling down into your chair when your phone finally lit up.
.
.
3 missed messages from “Sugu”
1 missed call from “Sugu”
9 missed messages from “UTAHIME <33”
21 missed messages from “Gojo (Block L8r)”
5 missed calls from “Shokkkkko”
1 missed message from Unknown Number.
Oh?
You pressed into the latest message.
.
.
Unknown (01:07): txt me when u wanna make it permanent. X
Your brow furrowed as you read the text again.
The hell did that even mean?
You glanced up, pondering the message until your eyes briefly caught your own reflection in the mirror across from your desk.
And there, just visible above the collar of your shirt, was a swirl of dark red ink peeking through the fabric.
Your breath hitched quietly.
Slowly, you hooked a finger beneath your collar and pulled it down, revealing tidy, elegant, deliberate strokes.
脹相の
...
"Choso’s"
a/n: apologies if this got poopy this was totally meant to be a lot shorter than i made it. arf.
tag list: @rinreena, @hailsworld00, @crybabymina, @porcelaiinedoll
