choso makes it so easy for you to tease him that you're starting to suspect he does it on purpose. the way his cheeks flush a pretty pink and his eyes go so wide every time you kiss him? how he bites his lip and looks up at you with heavy-lidded eyes, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths? he's almost angelic.
sometimes you make him ask nicely for a kiss. for a second, he'll give you that puzzled look, the one where you know you've caught him off guard, and it's utterly endearing. his head might tilt to the side in question, but he'll smile and even though it's a little embarrassing, he'll tap his lips with a finger and ask you. when you do kiss him, it's soft and sweet, and it only makes him flush even more.
sometimes you make him beg. when he's got his back pressed up against the headboard and his body shines with sweat, shaking a little from the rush he's feeling, you'll lean in and hover just millimetres away. he'll lift himself up a little to try to close the distance but you won't let him. you'll pull back and watch as the look in choso's eyes goes from dazed to desperate, his tongue darting out to wet his lips in anticipation. and he will beg you, he'll say 'please' and 'i want it' and 'let me taste you', whatever it takes to get you to relent.
and this time, when you finally do, it's messy and hot, entirely unpolished. something so addictive that both of you find the thought of pulling away impossible. it's one of those times where choso gets a stroke of confidence, and he'll rest his hand on the back of your head just so he can pull you deeper into it. he's greedy, kisses like he's drunk on you, his tongue parting the seam of your lips to get a better taste.
it's choso's ultimate trigger, the thing that makes him crumble every time. so late at night when he's watching you ride him and staring up with those angel eyes, you'll lean in for a perfect kiss, and you'll pause just before you make contact. you'll press a palm against his throat, you'll tell him to beg, and he'll tell you he would do anything you could ever ask of him if you'll please, please kiss him. and when you do, like its some pavlovian response ingrained in his psyche, choso will buck his hips up as he cums with his tongue in your mouth and your hand around his throat.
→ in which choso just can't get enough of your touch
fwb choso, gender neutral reader, handjob, lots of begging, dirty talk, overstimulation, choso is a massive sub and pathetically horny
you know, sometimes you think you might be the one who corrupted choso kamo the most. when you met him, he was much different than the man you know now; he was quieter, polite, and never anything but appropriate around you. and truly, you were just friends, and you hadn't necessarily intended on things turning out this way, but those wandering eyes piqued his depraved curiosity and sought out the repressed desires within him.
and god, he looks so pretty like this. lean, defined body on full display, his skin slick with sweat from the rising heat in his bedroom. hair messy, face buried in his hands, bucking his hips up into your hand that strokes his cock over and over. he's all whimpers and whines, sweet sounds you know by heart from all the times you've reduced him to a mess like this.
unfortunately, they're muffled from how hard he presses his palm against his mouth, teeth biting down on the tough skin to keep himself a little quieter. so you still your hand's movements, and it doesn't even take half a second for him to peek through his fingers and beg.
"y-you stopped? no, no, don't stop, don't need to stop, just- c'mon, please, i-"
choso reaches one of his hands to keep yours moving, but you watch him think twice about it and he stops just before he makes contact. instead, it hovers a couple centimeters away, and he starts begging again.
"i'll stop every time you cover your face, cho," you tell him, voice sweet but stern. he nods rapidly and then his hands fall to his side, fingers twitching like he's still aching to touch you. of course, he wouldn't do a thing without your permission. he's good like that.
"mm, won't do it again, jus' p-please keep going," he asks you so politely in that honey-sweet tone of his.
satisfied, you smile and continue stroking your hand over the swollen head of choso's cock, teasing up and down the length of his shaft. your fingers graze over the veins running up the side, and that sensitive spot below the head, and he lets out a shivery, shaking moan. something so lust-drunk and needy it gives you a bit of a head rush.
pearly drops of precum roll down his pink tip, collecting against your thumb, and you use them as lubrication to pump him faster. his eyes are wide and his pupils are blown, staring at you so intently. he looks utterly obsessed, and he is; choso can't get enough of the way you touch and use his pretty body.
he keeps fucking into your hand, mostly matching your pace, if not a little bit faster in desperation. he wants nothing more than to chase his high and make a mess all over the both of you, but he'll wait for you to tell him that he can. choso lives and breathes to please and nothing gets him harder than earning your praise with his perfect obedience. it doesn't stop him from saying every thought out loud, though.
"oh, shit, f-feels so fucking good, love when you touch me," he groans out between heavy breaths, "always so good to me, thank you, m'so lucky. thank you, ah- thank you."
it's gotta be the hottest sound you've ever heard, really, the way he can't stop himself from telling you just how good you make him feel, how grateful he is for your hands on him. you think he'd worship them if you asked him to.
as if on cue, he reaches out for your free hand with a pleading look. you offer it to him, fingers intertwining with his, and he pulls it to his mouth to press soft, sweet kisses against the back of your hand. it doesn't interrupt his train of thought; he keeps whispering his gratitude into your skin and it grows increasingly more filthy as he gets closer and closer.
"w-would do anything for you, if it meant you'd ke- oh, fuck, if you'd keep your hand 'round my dick," he rambles, and his eyes roll back when you take a second to rub the palm of your hand over his tip again, "shit, yeah, jus' like that, thank you, thank you-"
by now he has his head thrown back against his pillow, his hand still holding yours tight. beads of sweat roll down the side of his face, his brows pulled together in an expression of intense focus and euphoria. his mouth opens and closes like he's still muttering your praises, but nothing comes out except moans and stuttering breaths.
you continue pumping his cock, watching his pretty face as you do, and you think he could truly be an angel if it weren't for the shameless things he says when he needs you to make him cum. he peeks one eye open, still squinted in pleasure, and it's then that choso realises he can't take it anymore. your watchful gaze, your merciless hand, and smell of you flooding his senses, he's doing everything in his power to not break right then and there. so he begs and begs, so fast and incoherent he's barely even listening for a response, just pure desperation.
"go on then, pretty, show me how good it feels," you grant him permission in that teasing, condescending tone, and it's the final straw for him.
choso lets out sounds that are downright sinful as he spills his cum all over your fingers and his abdomen. his back arches off the sheets as he continues to thank you over and over, interrupted by his moans of your name. his hand squeezes yours tight, fingernails leaving crescent-shaped indents in your skin that he'll no doubt be kissing apologies into later.
he keeps fucking up into your fist, chasing the high that tears through his twitching body, and even once the hot rush of pleasure starts to fade, he keeps moving. his whines are near pathetic and helpless from overstimulation, desperate to keep feeling your touch on him. he can hardly take it anymore and yet you know it's what he craves, so you tease his still-leaking tip until he finally slows down.
"you can never get enough, hey?" you say with a smile, and choso flashes one back, albeit a dazed attempt.
