emo!choso who’s so down bad for the most popular girl on campus...3!
a/n ~ writing miniseries is giving me life <3333 another series dooonneneeenene!
how to pull an emo guy, by you.
step one : notice him first.
that part was easy. he was hard to miss, with his height and tattoos and those lip piercings. you were dying to know if he had a tongue piercing, but the man didn't talk enough for you to be able to see.
he wasn't loud and certainly not the type to demand attention, but something about him stood out anyway. maybe it was the way he didn’t try. the way he sat at the back, the quiet intensity, like he was always thinking about something deeper than whatever was happening.
you noticed him watching you before he even realized you noticed.
step two : let him think it's his idea.
the convenience store? not an accident. you'd followed him seen him head in that direction after class and walked in a few seconds after he did, casually, like you just happened to be there.
and when you said his name?
god, the way he looked at you. it was like you'd rewritten the neuron wiring in his brain.
step three : confirm the suspicion.
your name in his recent instagram searches? laughable. your handle, right there, clearly fresh enough that he'd been on it in the past day.
you pretend not to notice, of course. because,
step four : don't scare him off.
choso isn't like the other guys who orbit around you. he's much quieter, doesn't really speak. he watches you from a distance and quickly glances away like his eyes are burned when you look at him.
so, of course, you give him a smile here and there. when you sat beside him in class, you made sure your knee brushed his. you didn't miss the way he tensed slightly, or the sheen of sweat glistening across his forehead.
your place, of course. nice and quiet and just the two of you. you didn't think it would be this easy, thinking he'd need more coaxing. but he folded the second you asked.
step six: make him yours.
choso changes his shirt three times. again, he knows it's stupid, but every time he looks in the mirror something feels off. he ends up back where he started, with a black shirt, slightly oversized, sleeves pushed up enough to show the tattoos on his forearms.
his hair's tied again, loose and messy, because you said it looked good earlier.
he knows it's stupid, but you said he looked good. you.
when his phone buzzes, his heart jumps. it's a message from you on instagram which he opens immediately.
you: come whenever, i'm home :). here's my address.
that stupid little smiley face does something to him.
he ends up sending on my way, and you like the message within seconds. choso exhales sharply, grabs his keys, and starts walking to your place before he can overthink himself into oblivion.
what if she realizes i'm weird?
every step comes with a new thought. he nearly turns around twice, ready to text you that he's feeling sick and maybe you should reschedule.
his heart's beating way too fast when he actually enters your building. he texts you that he's here and you give him your apartment number. he feels the blood drain out of his face as the elevator goes up, and up, and up.
finally, he reaches the tenth floor and finds your door, hesitating just slightly before knocking. there's a shuffle inside, quick footsteps, and choso forgets every single thought he's ever had when the door swings open.
more than good, you look like sin. your skirt is soft, frilly, short, a barely-there fabric that shifts up your legs. a top that dips low enough that his brain trips trying to decide where to look and he settles on your face, which is even more devastating.
you're just so pretty. he's never known anybody like you before.
"hey," you say casually, smiling.
choso's pretty sure he forgets how to blink. "...hi."
you step aside to let him in, brushing past him just enough that he catches the faint scent of your perfume, something light and addictive.
"shoes off is fine," you say, moving through your apartment to your kitchen. "anything to drink?"
"i'm okay, thank you," he manages, trying to kick off his shoes and nearly tripping over the back of one of them
"you can sit," you say, already moving toward the couch.
he nods, sitting stiffly at the far end like he’s trying to take up as little space as possible.
you, however, sit right next to him, close enough that he can feel the heat of you. "okay," you say, pulling your laptop onto your lap, tucking one leg under you, the movement shifting your skirt just slightly.
choso watches the fabric ride up your thigh and he looks away immediately, cheeks certainly pinking. he feels like a fucking creep, but your skin looks so soft.
he opens his laptop like it might save him. "so," he starts, voice tight, "we could do something about psychology in workplaces, like behavior patterns, productivity—"
"mm." you tilt your head, considering, then you shake it. "no."
"too boring," you say simply. "it's gonna make me fall asleep. we can pick something better.
he swallows, trying his hardest not to stare at how your eyelashes cast shadows against your cheekbones. "like what?"
you lean closer, shoulder brushing his arm, and when you angle your screen toward him, leaning in more, he absolutely sees down your shirt.
he jerks his gaze away so fast it almost hurts.
he can’t tell if you noticed.
he definitely noticed (especially the edge of a baby pink bra - he stores that mental image in the back of his mind.)
"what about reward systems?" you say like nothing's happening. "like, how people respond to praise and attention, validation. stuff like that."
he forces himself to listen. to focus on the words. "you're talking about reinforcement theory," he says automatically. "positive reinforcement, conditioning behaviour through rewards—"
"exactly," you smile, eyes flicking to him. "but make it more...personal."
his throat goes dry. "personal how?"
"like in relationships or something," you say. "how people act differently depending on what they get back. attention...aproval."
his brain latches onto the word, and you watch him closely.
"yeah," he says, voice cracking slightly. "um. yeah."
"we could, like, make our thesis around it," you continue, playing with your hair slightly (choso's eyes follow the movement). "how reinforcement changes our behaviour even when people don't realize it."
he nods slowly. "that—that would work."
"mm," you hum again, tilting your head like you're studying him. there's a pause. "do i make you nervous?"
choso freezes. "...what?"
you smile slowly. "you're kinda stiff," you say, nudging his arm lightly. "and you're kinda sorta looking everywhere but at me."
his brain abandons him. "i—i'm not—"
"you are," you say, tracing your finger over the ink on his skin, and he shudders.
"...maybe a little," he says quietly, barely louder than a breath.
he risks a glance at you. your pretty eyes are on him, fully focused, and your lips seem glossier than ever from this close.
"we could test it," you say.
his heart stutters. "test what?"
"the reward system," you reply like it's obvious. "for the project."
this is not just about the project. he knows that. you know that he knows that.
you shift closer, your knee brushing his. "simple," you say softly. "you do something right...you get rewarded."
his breath catches. "and if i don't?"
you shrug, but your eyes don't leave his. "then no reward."
you adjust the sleeve of his shirt slightly, running your hand slowly, slowly up his arm. "like this," you murmur. "you showed up."
his skin burns where you touch him.
"that's good behaviour, isn't it?"
"so you get something good." you lean in, lips brushing his cheek lightly, and pull back like it was nothing. "positive reinforcement," you say, smiling.
choso's gone. he stares at you, breathing unevenly, brain struggling to catch up with what just happened. you watch every flicker of confusion across his features, the slow realization, the way his pupils are blown wide.
you like this. a lot. it does dangerous things to your heartrate.
"see?" you say lightly as if you didn't just tilt his entire world. "it works."
he swallows hard. "that was—"
"a reward," you finish for him, swiping your tongue across your lips with a smile.
his gaze drops for a second, just a second. "you're very responsive," you murmur.
his ears burn, and you lean back slightly with a grin. "i see you listened, by the way."
you gesture toward him. "your hair."
his hand instinctively goes to the loose knot at the nape of his neck. "oh."
"i told you it looked good," you say. "and you kept it like that."
there's something soft and approving in your tone that makes choso ache desperately.
“that’s good behavior,” you add, and then you lean in and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
his breath stutters. “…fuck,” he exhales under his breath, barely audible.
you pull back just enough to look at him, amused. “you’re really easy, you know that?”
he flushes deeper. “i’m not—”
“you are,” you say. “but it’s cute.”
he thinks that might kill him.
your eyes drift down his arms, tracing the ink there, the lines disappearing under his sleeves. “show me,” you say suddenly.
“your tattoos.” you tilt your head curiously like you’ve been waiting for this. “all of them.”
his brain stumbles again. “i—” he hesitates. “...i’d have to take off my shirt,” he admits, quieter now.
you don’t even blink, you just look at him.
whatever resistance he had completely collapses. “okay,” he mutters.
and then he grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it up, off, over his head, tossing it somewhere behind him without even checking where it lands.
there’s a split second of silence where your eyes trace over every line, every piece of ink, every detail like you're memorizing it.
choso's never felt more exposed in his life. not just physically, because your gaze lingers, slow and deliberate.
“wow,” you say softly. his stomach flips and you reach out, fingertips brushing lightly over one of his tattoos, tracing the lines.
“these are…” you hum, thoughtful. “really pretty.”
no one’s ever called them that before.
your fingers move again, slow, curious, and he has to bite down on his lip to keep from reacting too obviously.
his brain short-circuits so violently he actually freezes. “wh—what,” he breathes.
you glance up at him through your lashes, smiling just a little. “three instances of good behavior so far.”
“showing up,” you count softly, tapping his arm.
“listening to me about your hair,” another tap, closer to his shoulder.
“doing what i asked.” your fingers trail lightly down his chest. “so,” you finish, leaning back just enough to meet his eyes again, “you can pick your reward.”
he stares at you owlishly. “anything?” he asks, voice rough.
you tilt your head. “i'd say within reason, but i know you're a good guy.”
his eyes flick to your lips again, then back to your eyes, then away. then back. “...kiss me,” he says, barely above a whisper. “please.”
you smile, clearly pleased. “okay.”
and then you lean in and your lips meet his properly, warm and soft and real, and choso inhales sharply against your mouth like he forgot how to breathe. he moves his lips slowly, hesitant at first, like he’s scared of doing it wrong, but when you shift closer, when your hand slides lightly up his arm, he melts into it.
his hand finds your waist without thinking and your fingers tilt his chin just slightly, guiding him, and when your lips part, he follows. you feel the faint, cool press of metal when your tongue brushes his.
you pull back just enough to look at him, eyes a little brighter now. “so you do have one,” you murmur.
“interesting.” your faces are still close, breaths still mingling. “guess i was right to be curious,” you add.
choso has no idea how to respond to that. no idea how he got here.
no idea how you’re sitting this close, looking at him like that, touching him like it’s natural.
your fingers are still resting lightly against his chest, tracing absent patterns over the ink. when you kiss him again, your lips press against his slower, warmer, and choso melts into it almost immediately, like his body recognizes this before his brain can catch up.
his hand finds your waist again, more certain this time, fingers curling slightly into the fabric of your skirt like he needs something to anchor himself.
you hum softly against his mouth and it sends a shiver straight through him. your hand slides up, brushing along his shoulder, then to the back of his neck, fingers threading lightly into the loose strands of his hair falling out of the bun. you tilt his head just slightly, deepening the kiss without rushing it.
his other hand comes up, hovering for a second before settling against your side. you don’t pull away - if anything, you lean closer, closing whatever space was left between you. your lips part again and he breathes you in like he's been holding his breath for hours.
time feels stretched slow, delicious. when you pull back, his eyes are unfocused, lips parted like he forgot what he was gonna say.
you smile. “see?” you murmur, brushing your thumb lightly along his jaw. “positive reinforcement.”
he lets out a quiet sound. “…that’s—”
you tilt your head, studying him again, that same curious look as before. “then we should keep testing it.”
choso's heart stumbles. “testing...”
“mhm.” your fingers drift back down, slow and absent but very much not accidental. “tell me. how else do you wanna prove good behaviour?”
choso's brain is not functioning at full capacity, not even close. his thoughts stumble over each other, chest rising and falling a little too fast. you're so close, still half in his space, still looking at him like you're waiting for something. for him.
“…i don’t know,” he whispers.
“i—” he exhales, shaky and his hands tighten slightly at your waist before he even realizes he’s doing it. “i just—”
his eyes flick down again, and a slow smile curves your lips. “use your words,” you say quietly.
“i wanna…” he starts, then stops, jaw tightening slightly like he’s debating how much to say, how much you’ll let him say.
your fingers pause against his chest, waiting.
"i wanna make you feel good," he blurts, cheeks pinking. the contrast is so stark to the inked expanse of his chest, his dark hair and dark eyes, those piercings you keep looking at.
"good boy," you murmur, kissing his cheek again, and you've officially reduced the recluse, brooding man to a stuttering mess. "you can do that, choso."
he fights back a groan and pulls your face to kiss, sighing deeply into your mouth, pushing his tongue in and tilting your jaw just so. his other hand slides down and down, pausing just at your shirt straps, and he gazes at you for silent confirmation.
you nod and the second you do he's tugging it down enough to free that pretty pink bra of yours - the one he caught a glimpse of earlier - and his heart starts racing three times faster.
"you're so pretty," he whispers before kissing down your neck slowly with a rush of confidence that makes your knees weak. you move to straddle his lap and you lace your arms around his neck, watching him through lidded eyes as he pinches your nipples over the lace.
"that's good," you murmur, capturing his lips in another kiss as his hands work at your bra, unclipping it with one hand and tossing it haphazardly across the room. you pull for a moment, amused expression crossing your face.
"you've done this before," you say, kissing up his jaw. "thought you might've been a—"
"no!" he cuts in, flushed. "no, nope, i'm—i'm not."
"okay," you giggle, and he huffs, kneading your tits like the action will somehow relieve him.
"i've had girlfriends before," he mutters almost indignantly, and you smile again.
"as enlightening as that is, i don't see how talking about your past is helping with our pro—oojjject—"
you choke on a moan as choso's hand slips under your skirt, thumbing over your clit and rubbing in sharp little cirles through your panties. he shrugs them to the side, running a finger through your folds before curling it up inside you at the perfect angle, jutting right against that soft, spongey spot.
"holy fuck," you garble, grabbing onto his shoulders for support as he adds another finger into your cunt, thumb still working at your clit, his other hand tweaking your nipples. the stimulation is almost too much, with choso's laser focus and furrowed brows and long, long fingers that crook into you just right.
he's got you gasping for air within minutes. if he's not thrusting his fingers into you at rapid speed he's sucking at the soft spot right under your ear. if he's not massaging your clit he's got his mouth on your tits, slathering drool over every square inch of your chest he can possibly reach.
you start to roll yourself in his lap, eager for more friction against his fingers. when he slides a third one in, muttering about how you're such a good girl for taking him so well, your vision goes white, head slumping forward against his chest as your climax peaks and crashes down on you with an indescribable intensity.
he works you through your orgasm slowly, fingers gathering up your arousal before slowly sucking them between his lips, eyes fluttering shut like he savours the taste.
you've barely recovered before his hands are back on your waist, your ass. you blink, still dazed, fingers curled loosely in his hair, and when you look up at him, he's still flushed, eyes blown so wide the pretty brows of his irises are completely gone.
"how do you respond to positive reinforcement?" he mumbles against your skin, eyes wanting. needy. "will you let me test that, too?"
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