nerd!choso who looks like he spends his life coding, but somehow got your legs pinned to the mattress.
nerd!choso who’s just a hungry animal with a sleeper build and a thick dick that knows exactly where your g-spot is.
nerd!choso who’s pressing his flat palm against your lower stomach, right above your pubic bone just so he can fuck you better.
choso kamo is barely holding it together.
he’s sitting in the third row, hunched over his laptop, and just staring at the back of your head three rows up.
it’s pathetic and he knows it.
that every time you tilt your head back to laugh at something your friend says, or run your fingers through your hair, he’d feel something scorching hitting his groin.
he knows exactly why his jeans are getting tighter from that.
and he knows it’s lust.
that he goes home and spends hours thinking about the way your skirt rode up when you sat down, and he knows exactly where his hand goes next.
you, meanwhile, were currently having a panic attack.
“fuck, fuck, fuck,” you hissed, watching your phone screen glow in your lap as you frantically tapped at your photo gallery. “i think i deleted them.”
your friend leaned over, her eyebrows raised. “what? the ones from the cabo trip?”
“yes, those! the bikini set, the ones from the beach at sunset. i haven’t even backed them up to the cloud yet. i went to delete a screenshot and my thumb just hit everything.” you slumped in your seat, genuinely gutted. “they were literally the best pictures i’ve ever taken from that trip. i’m so stupid.”
your friend looked around the lecture hall, scanning the rows of students waiting for the professor to stroll in.
her eyes landed on the back, specifically, on the guy with the perpetually messy hair and the hoodie pulled low.
“wait, didn’t you say you needed help with that code for your digital media elective before? like, data recovery stuff?”
you followed her gaze and groaned. “oh, god. choso? the cs major?”
your heart does a weird stutter.
choso.
the guy who looks like he hasn’t slept in a week but knows the answer to everything.
just then, a guy from the front row turns around. “hey, choso? about the networking assignment, the encryption key keeps failing on the local host. i don’t know if it’s the syntax or the firewall.”
choso didn’t even look up, nor did he skim a textbook, or pause his music.
“you’re probably calling the function before the handshake completes,” he says, eyes fixed on his own monitor. “check your sequence flow. if you’re using java, you’re missing the parameter in the header. rewrite the handshake logic and it’ll resolve.”
the guy just blinks while nodding slowly. “right. yeah. thanks.”
you watch him, and your stomach drops.
there is something incredibly, stupidly hot about how he doesn’t care that he’s the smartest guy in the room. it’s not just the brainpower honestly; it’s the way he carries himself.
and it’s making you shift uncomfortably in your seat as you realize you’re suddenly very…
very wet.
you’ve wanted to talk to him for weeks, but he’s always seemed so… closed off.
your friend nudges your side, snapping you out of your daze. “well? go ask him. he’s either going to save your photos or stare at you until you melt. either way, you get what you want, right?”
you look back at him. he’s now staring at his screen again, but for a second, his dark eyes lock onto yours, and you swear he knows exactly what you’re thinking.
you walk toward him and you can feel the entire row of nerds, and your friend, who’s watching with a grin staring at your back.
choso didn’t look up immediately, but his posture stiffened. “can i help you?”
“hey,” you start with your lowered voice, sounding slightly shy. “i, uh, accidentally wiped my drive. i know you’re good at this stuff, so i was wondering…”
you lean in, invading his personal space just a fraction.
he finally looks up, and the contrast is jarring: that indifferent facade and the intelligence in his eyes suddenly clashing with the way his ears turn red.
his gaze drops to your chest for a split second before darting back to your eyes, and the fact that beneath the desk, there is a hard and big bulge in his jeans that wasn’t there a second ago.
oh.
the realization hits you.
he’s not just some unbothered, untouchable genius.
he’s a guy who’s just as desperate as you are, and he’s clearly been fantasizing about you way longer than you’ve been lusting after him.
you feel a wicked smirk form at the corner of your mouth.
choso kamo is not immune. and you’re just about to use that to your own advantage.
“here,” you murmur, sliding your laptop onto the desk between you. “it’s synced to the cloud. i really need those files back. they’re... personal.”
you watch him try to regain his composure as he clears his throat, but his hands are shaking just slightly as he reaches for the trackpad. “r-right. i can... i can look at the data recovery logs. it’s not hard. i just need to access the directory.”
he’s a stuttering, blushing mess, and honestly? it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.
and you didn’t stay back, why would you?
instead, you scoot your chair right up against his, making your thigh press firmly against his leg which makes him freeze, his breath hitching, and his fingers hover over your keyboard.
“you’re doing great,” you whisper, leaning closer so your shoulder brushes his arm.
he makes a sound (almost a whimper) and stares intensely at the screen, his face turning an even deeper shade of red now.
he’s trying so hard to focus on the code, but you can see his pulse jumping in his neck, the way his jaw is set, the angular line of his profile, and you have to bite your own lip to keep yourself from trying to bite him.
he’s so smart, so capable, and so completely out of his focus with you right there. it’s delicious.
“see this?” he mutters, his voice cracking slightly as he tries to navigate the terminal. “i’m just... i’m pulling the headers. it should show the deleted index.”
“you’re such a genius, choso,” you say, watching him.
the terminal window flashes green text, scrolling at a speed you can barely track.
choso’s fingers are dancing across your trackpad. then, a familiar folder icon pops back onto your desktop, right where it’s supposed to be.
he exhales a shaky breath, the tension in his shoulders finally dropping when he sees he successfully retrieved your files.
“there,” he mumbles. “i recovered the cached index. your files are back.”
you click through the folder, skimming through the vacation shots, late night dinners, and you in a teal bikini at the beach. they’re all there.
you feel a surge of relief, followed immediately by that wicked urge to keep him flustered.
you lean back, crossing your legs, letting your knee press deliberately against his thigh again.
“you’re a lifesaver, choso. really. i don’t know how to thank you.”
he didn’t look at you this time because he’s busy staring at his own hands, his face still red.
he’s clearly trying to be a professional, but the way his chest is heaving says otherwise.
“you don’t have to,” he says, his voice strained. “it was... it was easy.. it’s nothing.”
you tilt your head, playing with the edge of your laptop sleeve. “are you sure? everyone wants something in return for a favor like this. you’re not gonna ask for anything? maybe a coffee? or a favor in return?”
he goes silent and pauses for a long time, his jaw tight as his gaze flickers from your face to the screen where your bikini photos are still pulled up.
he swallows, and when he finally speaks, he sounds like he’s forcing the words out against his better judgment.
“can i…” he clears his throat, his eyes darting to the screen, then back to you: terrified and bold all at once. “can i have a copy? of those?”
you blink, then let out a low, breathless laugh that you know makes his ears burn even brighter. “you want copies of my bikini photos, choso?”
he looks like he wants the floor to swallow him whole, but he nods desperately, refusing to get back at his wors. “i mean— only if you... only if you don’t mind.”
you lean in, dropping your voice to a whisper right by his ear, watching the way his entire body shudders.
“i don’t mind at all. actually, i think i can do better than that. keep the ones you have, but... if you’re interested, i can send you something later tonight without the bikini.”
he goes dead silent.
his hands clench into fists on his desk, and his face is filled with pure, unadulterated shock.
he looks at you, his eyes wide, searching yours to see if you’re playing a game, and then he just nods.
a quick, jerky, overwhelmed motion.
“i’m interested,” he chokes out.
you smile, reaching out to tap his keyboard, closing the folder. “good to know. check your messages later.”
you stand up, leaving him there in the middle of the lecture hall while his face is burning and his breath coming in short, while his gaze is glued to your back as you walk away.
… all while his own dick is trying to poke out of his pants.
that could be it.
you’d intended for tonight to be a bit of a tease. maybe just a quick nude to keep choso on his toes, but you weren’t prepared for him to turn a simple “u up?” into something more entertaining.
by the time you were back in your own apartment, you were actually wheezing while you scrolled through his latest reply, clutching your stomach.
choso: i can set up an encrypted cloud link if you’re worried about privacy. nobody else will ever see them. i’ll make sure the metadata is wiped so they can’t be traced back to your ip.
it was just so him.
you could perfectly picture him hunched over his phone, brows furrowed while typing. but after all, the sincerity of his thirst was actually hilarious and cute.
meanwhile, across campus, choso was definitely not laughing.
because, why?
he takes this seriously. god forbid a man does not play when it comes to your nude photos.
not even his own dick is playing with you. because his pants hadn’t let up since you’d left him at his desk earlier.
his phone buzzed in his hand and the vibration nearly knocked himself off his bed.
you: lol. you nerd
you: [image sent]
he clicks the image.
and it’s you, in your bedroom in low lighting. you aren’t wearing a single thing, and you’re hitting the camera with that exact same look you gave him back in the lecture hall.
his eyes dropped instantly, travelling down your breasts while feeling the heat spread through his chest first, and then suddenly he felt it all over his body.
he even finds himself zooming in, then out, then back in again, as if he can’t get enough.
and the way you’re sitting, with your legs just slightly parted. it’s like your pussy is staring him down, teasing him for ever thinking an encrypted shit was the most important thing on the table.
his dick is beyond frustrated at this point, actually aching against his sweatpants, making him feel completely at your mercy from across campus.
his fingers are shaking so much that he can barely type. he’s just staring at every pixel, zooming in until he can see the faint goosebumps on your skin.
you: do you like it? or was the encryption talk more exciting?
he lets out a choked laugh while biting his lower lip. he was even questioning how he was able to type a reply amidst the strong urge to pull his pants and boxers down to start touching himself.
choso: the encryption is just to make sure i can keep this forever. you have no idea what you’re doing to me.
you: tell me more. what else have you been doing while thinking about me?
good question, because he’s about to get the best masturbation episode of his life right now. only because he’s got a treat from you.
he yanks his sweats down, kicking them away from his ankles, and his dick springs free, already weeping a bit of pre-cum. it’s angry and straining, and for the first time in months, he doesn’t have to close his eyes to imagine how your ass was peeking through your skirt, or how your breasts were extra plump that day.
as he wrapped his hand around his length, he’s staring at his phone’s screen. specifically, at your breasts that are just sitting there beautifullu, at your waist, and at your pussy.
the urge to bury his face on either part of your body made his first strokes painfully delicious.
he didn’t even have to play with his tip anymore just so he can keep on licking because your nude photo was enough to do him the favor.
“fuck,” he moaned, echoing in the quiet, dark room.
he’s done this a thousand times, but it’s never felt like this.
his dick got slippery so easily that it was not hard for him to pick up a faster pace. the friction of his own palm is driving him insane because it’s not your palm.
he thinks about you sitting in that lab, leaning in close enough for him to smell your shampoo, and he realizes he wasn’t just being a nerd when he asked for those photos.
he was being a fucking addict because he wants more.
his hips started to jerk instinctively as he played with himself more, arching his back against the bed while he used his other hand to keep the phone’s screen near his face.
he’s close, way closer than he usually lets himself get this fast.
he stares at your eyes in the photo one last time, and didn’t look away. he starts imagining you’re actually right there, watching him lose it.
in his head, he’s got his long legs spread for you, biting down on the hem of his t-shirt, just enough to show off his abs, while his hand is wrapped tight around his dick.
the idea made his whole body tense up. like, toes curling into the bedsheets, back arching, the whole nine yards and he finally lets go, and it’s way more intense than usual.
he’s cumming so hard it’s a total mess, but he wouldn’t stop. he just kept stroking through it, riding his own orgasm, expressing his frustration of not being able to eat you or fuck you by overstimulating himself.
after the absolute chaos he just put himself through, he just slumps back while gasping for air. his chest is heaving, looking like a total wreck.
he grabs a tissue to wipe off his hand and reaches back for his phone with the other.
his dick is still twitching and feeling way too sensitive, but the brain fog has finally cleared just enough for him to actually think straight.
this time, he just types it out, straight to the point.
choso: i’m coming over. send me the address.
when you received the message, you actually laughed, sitting up and hugging your knees to your chest.
he was so easy.
but then you looked at the corner of your laptop screen and saw the time and shit. your sociology project, the one you hadn’t even started the bibliography for, and it was due at 8:00 am.
you: you can come over, but i have a deadline tomorrow and i’m behind. you have to sit there and be a good boy until i’m done. then you can have your reward.
you: [address]
choso: i’ll be there in an hour.
he was actually there in less than 30 minutes.
when you opened the door, he looked like he’d run a marathon but also like he’d just seen a ghost. his hair was even messier than usual, and he was wearing a hoodie that probably cost more than your rent, though you’d never know it by the way he was hunched over.
“hey,” you said, leaning against the doorframe, still in your oversized t-shirt and nothing else.
choso’s eyes went wide. his gaze dropped straight to your legs, then darted away like he’d been burned. “hi. i... i’m early. sorry.”
“it’s fine. come in.”
he stepped into your small apartment and immediately looked out of place.
he stood in the middle of the rug, looking at your plastic electric kettle and the pile of laundry on the armchair. you remembered your friend saying his family was loaded, and it showed.
he looked like he’d never seen a space that didn’t have a minimalist aesthetic or a maid service.
“you can sit on the bed,” you told him, pointing to the unmade mattress. “just... don’t touch anything yet. i really have to finish this.”
he sat down stiff as a board, hands on his knees. he looked like a lost cat, honestly.
just sitting there, staring at the wall, trying not to look at you while you hunkered down at your desk. his eyes kept flickering toward you in the process, then back to his shoes.
after twenty minutes of you staring at a blank document and typing the same sentence three times, you groaned and rubbed your face.
that’s when you looked back at him and found him still just... sitting there.
waiting..
“come here,” you said, waving him over. “sit with me. maybe if you’re watching, i’ll feel pressured enough to actually type something.”
he got up so fast he almost tripped, dragging a spare chair over to your desk. he sat close enough and you could see his eyes scanning your screen, his brow furrowing as he read your intro about social stratification.
“you’re... you’re using the wrong citation format for that journal,” he muttered.
“what? no, i’m not. it’s apa.”
“no,” he said, leaning over you to grab the mouse, slightly brushing your arm with his. “for this specific database, you need to include the doi suffix or it’ll get flagged. and your thesis statement is too broad. you’re trying to prove three different things at once.”
you actually blinked at him. impressed. “are you... are you nerding out on my sociology paper right now?”
choso’s face went red again, but he didn’t pull back. “i just... i don’t like seeing things done wrong. it’s a waste of data.” he looked at you with his intense, dark eyes. “if i help you fix the structure, will you finish faster?”
“probably.”
“o-okay… move over, please,” he said, taking the laptop from your lap and putting it on the desk.
you watched him, totally mesmerized, as he started typing.
he wasn’t even looking at the keyboard while he was fixing it. deleting your fluff, tightening the logic, and pulling sources from his head like it was nothing.
he looked so focused, so in his element, that you actually felt yourself getting even wetter just watching his side profile.
he was being so helpful, so sweet, but his jaw was still clenched like he was fighting for his life. that’s when you looked down and noticed he still had that huge bulge in his pants.
he was literally writing your essay for you while his dick was throbbing for attention.
you reached out and rested your hand on his thigh, right next to the bulge. it made him jump, as if electrified, and a typo appeared on the screen, but he didn’t stop you.
“choso?” you whispered.
“please, don’t,” he choked out while his eyes were still fixed on the screen, typing even faster now. “i’m almost... almost through the second paragraph. just let me... let me finish.”
he was so determined to be useful that he was literally ignoring his own hard-on. it was the most pathetic and attractive thing you’d ever seen.
it took him exactly thirty-four minutes to rebuild your entire argument like he was playing a video game. he hit ‘save’ and let out a breath that sounded like he’d been holding it since he walked through the door.
“there,” he muttered lowly. “the citations are indexed and the logic flows better. you’re... you’re done.”
you hummed a sensual tone and just reached over, snapping the laptop shut, and tossed it onto the pile of laundry on your bed.
the look of pure confusion on his face was peak comedy, and to fill in the awkwardness he’s feeling, he started to say something but you didn’t give him the chance.
you grabbed his hoodie, pulling him closer, and then you just climbed and straddled his lap, resting your knees on either side of his hips.
the second you sat down, you felt his rock hard dick poking right into your clothed pussy. the contact made him let out this choked, pathetic little noise as his hands hover in the air like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you yet.
“you’re so fast, choso,” you whispered, leaning in until your noses brushed. “i think you deserve that reward now.”
his eyes widened when you crashed your lips against his, giving him a deep, messy french kiss.
he was stiff at first, barely moving his mouth because he was probably overthinking the physics of it. he tasted like mint and caffeine, and he was shaking under you.
he didn’t know how to kiss and somehow, that’s such a fucking turn out for you.
you tilted your head, moaning into his mouth as you swiped your tongue against his, showing him how it’s done.
in response to that, you felt his hands finally drop into your waist, gripping each side hard— a way for him to express his frustration and restraint.
he tried to mirror you desperately with his clumsy tongue, hitting your teeth once before he figured out how to actually move.
he was such a fast learner that within seconds, he was kissing you back almost as hungry, pushing his tongue into your mouth like he wanted to taste every part of you.
you ground your hips down against him, feeling him harden and stand up even harder against you.
then, he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against yours.
“i... wait– i didn’t think…” he panted with blown out eyes. “i’ve thought about this so much, but it’s... it’s different. you’re so warm.”
“it’s better than a photo, isn’t it?” you teased, nipping at his lower lip.
he just nodded, tightening his grip on your waist until it almost hurt. “you taste good,” he rasped. “please. don’t get off yet.”
he looked so vulnerable and so completely wrecked that you just smiled.
you leaned back, pulling your shirt over your head and dropping it on the floor, watching his brain literally reboot as he looked at you in person.
“i’m not going anywhere, choso. we still have all night.”
once your shirt hit the floor, choso was all over you.
there were no seconds wasted. because he was finally living out the months of his fantasies built in the back of that lecture hall, and he was devouring you like he was starving.
as if it’s his primary agenda, his hands went up and cupped your boobs and squeezed them desperately. this was something he’d imagined doing while desperately stroking his own cock and now that he is doing it for real, he realized that this shit is even a thousand times better than that fantasy.
he buried his face in your neck inhaling your scent before his mouth found your collarbone, nipping at the skin until he left a dark mark.
then he moved down, swiping his tongue over your nipples, swirling around the tips until they were hard and sensitive. the sensation sent this electric tingle straight to your crotch, making you writhe against him.
“can i…” he pulled back for a split second, showing you his flushed face while his breath is hitching as he looked down at your lap. “can i touch it? your pussy... i want to-”
you didn’t even answer with words, instead you just grabbed his hand and guided it down.
the second his fingers hit the soaked fabric of your panties, he let out a low groan and started rubbing you through the fabric, his thumb finding your clit with a surprisingly decent amount of aim.
it felt so good. unlike when you touch yourself by the thought of his smart ass, your body is surprisingly reacting (in a good way) to his touches.
his tumb just rubbing you in this position might make you cum in no time, and you don’t even usually climax this fast when you masturbate which is crazy.
it wasn’t enough, though. you were both too cramped at the desk, and you could feel his dick straining so hard against your thigh. he seemed to realize it too so he broke the kiss, stood up while literally lifting you by the thighs, and carried you the three steps to the bed.
he laid you down on the messy sheets, and for a second, he just stood there, staring.
he reached down and hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, sliding them down your legs and politely placed them at the sides, when he could’ve just thrown them somewhere.
the way he looked at your pussy was almost embarrassing. he was so obvious about his lust, his eyes wide and roaming over your folds giving him away. it was like a reflex when he dropped to his knees and buried his face right in it.
it was a little clumsy at first, honestly.
you could tell he was trying to remember things he’d seen on porn sites by the way he flicked his tongue and the way he tried to use his fingers to spread you open, but his enthusiasm made up for the lack of experience.
he was tasting you by darting his tongue out to lick your clit in short, quick strokes that had you arching your back and clutching the pillows.
“ah! fuck, choso,” you whined, your fingers tangling in his messy hair.
he started fingering you, sliding two fingers inside while he kept his mouth busy on your clit.
he was being so careful, so focused on the feedback your body was giving him, like he was debugging a piece of code until he found the exact sequence that made you scream.
you felt every slide of his fingers and every wet lap of his tongue. his fingers were so long that it was reaching deeper than your own, and he was stretching you out real good with three fingers that he’s thrusting and curling at the same time.
even though the stretching part was a bit painful, he compensated for it by running his tongue on your clit, stroking it fast and constantly kissing and nipping it.
it was that perfect mix of first-time nerves and raw, unfiltered horniness.
he was so into it, so obsessed with every inch of you, that you could feel your own climax building behind your ribs, ready to snap.
the pressure in your lower stomach was getting to that point of no return. you were arching off the bed as choso’s tongue kept flicking over your clit, adding the fact that his fingers were buried deep inside you, stretching you out.
“choso— stop, i’m gonna... i’m about to cum,” you gasped out as you tried to catch your breath.
he didn’t stop entirely, but he pulled his fingers out. he kept his mouth right there, though, his thumb took over to rub circles around your clit while he looked up at you from between your legs.
his face was a total mess. but he looked even better now because he’s damp with your juices while his dark hair falls into his eyes.
“you’re so beautiful," he whispered, sounding out of it. “cum for me. i want to see you do it. please.”
he sounded so shy but so desperate at the same time.
you hadn’t even noticed that while he was eating you out, he’d managed to kick his own pants off and was stroking own dick with his free hand.
looking down, you thought— god, he was huge.
he was stroking himself in this fast motion that his veins were popping as he watched you come apart.
“ah— fuck, choso! ah!” you shrieked, stuttering your hips as the first wave of the orgasm hit you. your pussy started clamping down on nothing while your clit was being massaged and overstimulated by choso.
“don’t stop,” you choked out, reaching down to grab his hand, the one wrapped around his dick. “put it in. choso, put it in now.”
he didn’t need to be told twice.
he scrambled up, crawling over you, and pining your thighs wide with his knees. he guided the head of his dick to your entrance, which was still twitching and soaking wet from your climax.
when he finally pushed in, you let out a long moan. fuck!
“nghh—fuck!”
he was so much bigger than his fingers. you felt him stretching your walls to the absolute limit, filling every empty space inside you.
because you were right in the middle of your orgasm, the sensation was ten times more intense that every nerve ending in your pussy was firing at once, screaming as his hot, hard cock slid against your sensitive walls.
“you’re so… tight,” choso groaned, his head falling into the crook of your neck as he buried himself inside you to the hilt. “fuck, you’re... you’re squeezing me so hard. ah... fuck.”
he stayed still for a second, just letting you clench around him while you finished cumming.
it felt like your insides were vibrating against him and you could feel the pulse of his dick inside you, matching the frantic beat of your own heart.
the friction was insane because it wasn’t just ‘good’, it was overwhelming, and it made you feel like you were being split open in the best way possible.
and you fucking know that if that is how it is making you feel, it means you’re going to get dicked down in the best way possible.
you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, wanting to feel him against your pelvis.
“don’t just stand there, nerd,” you teased through a shaky breath. “fuck me and finish what you started.”
choso looked like he was about to overheat. he was panting so hard that he paused for a second while his dick was still buried deep inside you, and grabbed the hem of his hoodie.
“fuck, it’s too hot,” he grunted, pulling the fabric over his head and tossed it somewhere on the floor.
your jaw practically dropped.
you’d spent all semester seeing him in oversized sweaters, but underneath that nerdy exterior, choso was hiding a literal sleeper build.
his chest was broad and flushed, and when he leaned forward, you could see his defined abs when he braced his weight on his elbows.
the sight of him shirtless, looking all lean and powerful while his thick dick was still plugging you up, made your pussy twitch in a fresh wave of anticipation.
you couldn’t help it, so you unintentionally squeezed your internal muscles around him, clamping down hard.
“ah—fuck,” choso groaned as you milked him. “don’t do that yet. i’m trying to... i’m trying to keep it together.”
he finally started to move. starting with these slow, deliberate thrusts, just feeling your walls squeeze him.
it was a total sensory overload.
because he was so thick, you could feel the ridge of his head rubbing against your g-spot with every slide out, even his size was stretching you wider when he bottomed out.
“you feel... nghh... you feel so fucking good,” he whispered, his voice cracking.
his gaze was locked onto your breasts, watching them bounce and jiggle with every shove of his hips. the sight seemed to make him lose whatever restraint he had left. picking up his pace, turning the slow slides into greedy slams.
his thrusts were getting faster, less calculated and more animalistic, like he was trying to bury himself even deeper inside you.
“choso—ah, ah!” you moaned, tossing your head back against the pillows.
he was so rough now that the sound of your skin slapping against his was loud and echoing in the small room.
“you feel so good… ah.” he managed to choke out.
he was making these low, guttural sounds in the back of his throat, while his dick devoured how wet you were, feeling your walls pulse around his dick like you’re trying to suck him dry.
the sensation was so intense he looked like he was in actual pain, his jaw locked tight and his veins standing out in his neck.
“i can’t... i can’t get enough,” he gasped, grinding his hips faster now. “you’re so wet. it’s so tight. fuck!”
he was hitting your cervix now, bottoming out with a force that had you seeing stars.
he was a total animal, sliding his hands from your ass to your waist, digging his fingers into your hips to keep you pinned while he absolutely railed you.
you’d think that’s the end of it, but then he leaned over you and pressed his flat palm firmly against your lower stomach, right above your pubic bone.
he started pushing down with every thrust, using the extra leverage to bury his dick even deeper into you.
“fuck, you’re so—ah—you’re so soft,” he wheezed.
every time he slammed balls deep in you, his length was hitting your g-spot. the pressure from his palm on the outside combined with the friction of his dick on the inside made you feel like you were being folded in half in the best way possible and it left you moaning like an animal against the pillows.
“choso—oh god—right there! nghh!”
your pussy was a total wreck. it was stretched wide, your pink walls struggling to hold onto the thickness of him as he pumped in and out.
you could see the way your skin was pulling with every pull out, allowing you to see his dick coated with a mix of your juices and his pre-cum, before he’d shove back in with a squelching sound.
the sensation was starting to get electric, and the tingly feeling building up in your clit felt like you were going to explode.
and the way you could feel his dick pulsing inside you, getting even harder and thicker if that was even possible– is not helping you hold back at all.
“i’m—i’m gonna…” choso’s voice broke into a high, desperate whine.
his thrusts turned into short, violent stabs while his hand remained pressing on your stomach so hard.
“cum for me, choso! fuck!”
that was the breaking point.
your entire body went rigid, your toes curling as a massive wave of pleasure crashed over you.
you felt this sudden, hot pressure build up until you were literally squirting, fluid drenching his thighs with your squirting fluid and the sheets as you screamed his name.
choso let out a long moan, his eyes blown wide but didn’t stay inside.
right as he started to blow, he yanked his dick out and continued by stroking himself frantically for three more seconds before he erupted, thick ropes of cum all over your stomach and your chest.
“fuck... fuck,” he gasped, feeling his knees finally give out.
he collapsed on top of you and buried his face in the crook of your neck, feeling his heart hammer against your ribs. T
he room smelled like sex and for a long time, the only sound was the two of you trying to remember how to breathe.
he shifted slightly, his nose brushing against your skin. “did... did i do that right?” he mumbled, sounding like the shy nerd again for a split second.
you just laughed, still breathless and exhausted, and tangled your fingers in his hair. “yeah, choso. i’d say your technical skills are pretty good.”
꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷
i don't know why i am not satisfied with the smut. but i hope you enjoyed it.
