⠀☽ ‧₊˚ミ☆ synopsis: Ever since you and Choso became roommates, he's been going out far more often than usual. At first, you didn't think much of it. Everyone needed space sometimes. But lately, he's been coming home at four in the morning with bloodshot eyes, crumpled bills stuffed into his pockets, and a strange scent clinging to his clothes. You tell yourself there's a reasonable explanation. After all, you've known Choso since childhood. He isn't reckless.
He would never start smoking... right?
WARNING : MDNI, plug!choso, roomatechoso, smoking, fem!reader, both of yall are in not so good financial situation, choso and reader are both 18+, stoner!toji, and stoner!sukuna mention. College no curse au, mention of violence, smoking, getting high, killing, blood, burning with blunts, choso is lowk nonchalant, reader got an attitude, mention of car crashing, dead parent, Hints of sub!choso dom!choso ( most of the times but in some cases..)
Pairings: plug!choso x fem!reader
Note from the author: hii guys! This is my first fanfiction ever so please don’t expect some pro level writing.. also I wanted to add that I am not a native English speaker so my words may look mixed up or weird and I would appreciate if you would let me know if there’s any editing I need to make I also would like feedback on this fanfic showcasing my favorite jjk character, Choso Kamo, I hope you enjoy!
Ps: Couldn’t find the artist please help ..also listen to "the Walls" by Chase Atlantic!
You were an A student, always striving for good grades in hopes of building a better future, not just for yourself, but for your family as well.
Growing up on the poorer side of the city wasn't easy. Your parents had always dreamed of giving you a stable life, and your mother, especially, believed that education was your way out.
Even now, you could still picture the day she died.
The image of your father clinging to her coffin, tears streaming down his face, remained carved into your memory. He looked broken. Lost.
From that day on, you made a promise.
You would become successful. You would get both yourself and your father out of this part of the city. And one day, you would achieve your dream of becoming a lawyer.
You excelled in almost every class.
Almost.
Biology was your downfall.
As ridiculous as it sounded, the one subject standing between you and academic perfection was Biology. No matter how many hours you spent studying, the concepts refused to stick.
It drove you insane.
More than once, you found yourself chewing on the end of your pen in frustration, staring at your notes as if they might magically start making sense.
You could have asked questions during class.
The problem was that your pride wouldn't let you.
Not because you cared what most of your classmates thought. Their opinions had never mattered to you.
Except for one.
And unfortunately, he happened to sit only a few rows away.
The student standing at the top of the class wasn't who anyone would have expected.
It was Choso Kamo.
The most nonchalant guy in your year.
He wasn't particularly popular, nor was he a troublemaker. He simply existed on the outskirts of everyone else's lives, keeping to himself and speaking only when necessary.
Everything about him felt like a mystery.
His black hair was tied into two spiky buns, framing a face marked by a black stripe tattoo that stretched across the bridge of his nose and along both cheeks. Dark purple eyeshadow accentuated his espresso-brown eyes, giving him an unusual appearance that should have been intimidating.
Instead, it was strangely captivating.
What made him even more confusing was his attitude toward school.
Most days, Choso barely showed up. And when he did, he was either sleeping through lessons or disappearing halfway through the day to play Monopoly with his chaotic friends, Mahito and Geto, in empty classrooms.
The teachers had long since given up complaining. Somehow, despite his constant absence, he always managed to score average marks in nearly every subject.
Nearly every subject.
Because when it came to Biology, Choso was a completely different person.
He actually paid attention.
He arrived on time, kept his eyes fixed on the board, and answered questions before anyone else could. Even then, he always wore the same bored expression, as though everything being taught was something he had learned years ago.
And honestly?
It was annoying.
No matter how hard you studied, nobody could surpass him.
Especially when the lesson involved blood.
For reasons you couldn't understand, Choso knew far too much about it. Every now and then, he would casually mention some disturbing fact that left the entire classroom unsettled.
Including you.
But more than anything, it made you curious.
And curiosity had a way of becoming obsession.
But failing wasn't an option.
Not when your future depended on your grades.
So after days of arguing with yourself, you finally swallowed your pride and decided to ask Choso for help.
Finding him wasn't difficult.
You already knew exactly where he would be.
Skipping math.
Again.
The sound of laughter echoed from one of the empty classrooms as you pushed the door open.
There he was.
Mahito was sprawled across a desk, dramatically accusing Geto of cheating at Monopoly while Geto defended himself with far more enthusiasm than the game deserved.
And in the middle of it all sat Choso.
Bored.
As usual.
The moment you stepped inside, three pairs of eyes turned toward you. Unlike Mahito and Geto, who remained seated, Choso pushed himself to his feet when you approached.
Your confidence immediately vanished.
You tightened your grip on the wrinkled Biology worksheets in your hands.
"Uh..."
Brilliant start.
For a second, Choso simply stared at you.
Then his gaze dropped to the papers.
Then back to your face.
Something in his expression changed.
The corner of his mouth twitched upward.
Because apparently seeing the top student in his class standing awkwardly in front of him and asking for help was the funniest thing he'd witnessed all week.
"Listen," you began, holding out the worksheet. Clearly embarrassed to be here.
Mahito noticed it too.
"Ooooh," he sang. "Look who's asking Choso for tutoring."
Geto laughed.
You wanted the floor to swallow you whole.
"I don't need tutoring." You shot him a glare.
"I just wanted help with a few.. questions."
Choso took the paper from your hands and glanced over it.
"A few?"
Heat rushed to your face.
Half the worksheet was covered in question marks.
Before you could try and explain yourself Choso simply pulled his phone from his pocket and held it out toward you.
"Put your number in."
You blinked.
That was it?
No teasing?
No questions?
Just his number?
Trying your best to ignore Mahito's increasingly dramatic reactions, you quickly typed your contact information into his phone before handing it back.
Then, before anyone could say anything else, you turned around and left with whatever dignity you had left.
Later that evening, your phone buzzed.
A single message.
"Meet me in the library."
Staring at those four words, you had a strange feeling.
Something was about to change.
And somehow, you knew this was only the beginning.
Helping with homework quickly turned into regular Biology tutoring.
There was only one problem.
Choso was a terrible teacher.
An excellent student?
Absolutely.
A tutor?
Not even close.
His explanations somehow managed to be both painfully detailed and completely unhelpful at the same time.
"You just follow the blood through the vessel."
You stared at the page.
"I don't know where the vessel is." you admit confused.
He frowned.
Then pointed at a diagram.
"The vessel."
"There are seventeen vessels." You pointed out.
"Oh."
After a moment of silence, he pointed at a different one.
"That vessel."
At first, you met in the library.
Then the library became a coffee shop.
The coffee shop eventually became each other’s house.
And before either of you realized it, studying had become an excuse to spend time together.
For once, you were grateful that your father was almost always at work. The idea of having a boy over would have been embarrassing enough on its own.
Fortunately, Choso never seemed to notice.
Or maybe he did.
Tutoring sessions gradually became less productive as time went on.
What started as questions about Biology turned into conversations about everything else.
And that only made you feel confident enough to start teasing him.
"Choso."
"Hm?"
"You're the worst tutor I've ever had."
Choso looked up from the textbook.
"...That's not true."
"It absolutely is."
A small frown appeared on his face.
"My little brother said the same thing."
You blinked.
"You've tutored someone before?"
"Yuji."
"And?"
"He asked me to stop."
The room fell silent.
"He what?"
Choso closed his textbook and let out a sigh.
"He said my explanations made less sense than the teacher's."
You stared at him.
Then burst out laughing.
"It isn't funny."
"It is a little funny."
"It isn't."
"You were fired by your own brother."
A look of genuine disappointment crossed his face.
"I had to hire someone else to help him."
You nearly fell out of your chair.
You asked him about his strange fascination with blood.
He asked why you pushed yourself so hard.
You learned that Choso had nine younger siblings and missed every single one of them.
You learned that he wanted to become a phlebotomist one day.
Most importantly, you learned why.
"I want to get Yuji out of here."
The words had slipped out during one of your late-night study sessions.
Out of this city.
Out of the violence.
Out of the future everyone expected for people born on this side of town.
The conviction in his voice surprised you.
Because it sounded exactly like something you would have said.
For the first time, you realized you weren't the only person dreaming of leaving.
From then on, spending time together became effortless.
You studied together.
Walked home together.
Spent weekends together.
Eventually, you met Yuji.
And somehow, it felt like you'd known him forever.
Before long, pizza nights became a tradition.
The three of you would crowd onto the couch, arguing over movies while Yuji complained whenever Choso picked something boring.
Those nights quickly became some of your favorite memories.
Even if you didn't realize it yet, Choso had already become one of the most important people in your life.
As your friendship grew, so did the teasing.
Choso started taking a liking to it aswell.
Of course he did.
Whenever you got an answer wrong during a Biology quiz, he'd lean over just enough to glance at your paper before quietly muttering the correct answer under his breath.
The smug look on his face afterward was unbearable.
Naturally, you had to get revenge.
Unfortunately for him, you've discovered his greatest weakness.
Flirting.
The realization came one afternoon when you absentmindedly reached over and fixed one of the tiny buns on his head.
"You know," you said, trying not to laugh, "these little sea urchins are kind of cute."
The effect was immediate.
Choso froze.
Completely.
A faint pink color crept across his cheeks.
"...Sea urchins?"
You grinned.
"That's what they look like."
Without another word, he turned back to his notebook and pretended to focus on his work.
The tips of his ears were bright red.
After that, it became a game.
A dangerous game.
Every time you complimented him, sat a little too close, or caught him staring, he would immediately look away.
And every single time, his face turned pink.
For someone who knew everything about blood, Choso was surprisingly bad at hiding where it rushed to.
and you secretly found it cute.
…
Tonight was different.
It wasn't just another study session.
Tomorrow's exam would decide whether the future you'd spent years fighting for was finally within reach.
Books covered every inch of your desk. Open notebooks, highlighted pages, loose sheets of papers, everything blended together beneath the warm yellow glow of your lamp.
Your coffee had long since gone cold.
So had your motivation.
Your eyes burned from hours of studying. Every few minutes, your gaze drifted from your notes to the bed waiting across the room.
Sleep sounded heavenly.
Tempting.
Dangerous.
You couldn't afford sleep.
Not yet.
You needed to pass.
No.
You HAD to.
This wasn't just another exam.
It was your first step toward law school.
Ding.
Your phone lit up.
At this hour?
Your eyes narrowed slightly as you reached for it. No one you knew was awake right now, not unless they were suffering through finals just like you.
Well…
One person was.
Choso.
Your stomach did something strange at the sight of his name.
"Are you still awake?"
You stared at the message for a second longer than necessary before typing back.
"Yeah. I forgot how draining studying can be."
A pause.
Of course, you and Choso hadn’t been talking as much lately. Exam season had a way of swallowing up time, leaving only late nights and unfinished notes.
You’d both agreed it was better this way.
Studying together always turned into something else, distractions, laughter, nothing getting done.
So you studied separately.
At least, that was the plan.
Another notification came through.
"Do you wanna call?"
You blinked.
That was unusual.
Choso didn’t usually ask first.
He would pick up when you called. He would respond when needed.
But he didn’t initiate.
Not like this.
Without thinking too long about it, you pressed call.
It rang once.
Twice.
Then—
“Choso?”
“Hey…”
His voice was low. Tired. Familiar in a way that made your chest tighten for no logical reason.
For a second, you forgot what you were going to say.
“…What’s up?”
“Nothing,” he said after a pause. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”
Your breath caught.
Okay…
That was bold.
“W-Why?” you managed, trying and failing to sound normal. “Don’t tell me you like it or something.” You said jokingly.
A quiet exhale on the other end.
“I wanted to check in on you.”
“Check in on me?”
a pause.
And just like that, the teasing stopped feeling like a game.
Choso sighed
"You shouldn't stress yourself out."
A small laugh escaped you.
"Easy for you to say."
"It isn't."
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
The soft sound of pages turning came through the phone.
Then Choso broke the silence.
"Are you scared?"
You stared at your notes.
The question caught you off guard.
A little.
A lot.
Terrified.
You were terrified.
Tomorrow felt like the first step toward everything you'd ever wanted.
And somehow, that made it feel like one wrong move could ruin your entire future.
"...Yeah."
The answer came out quieter than expected.
On the other end of the call, Choso hummed.
"I'm scared too."
That surprised you.
"You are?"
"Yeah."
A pause.
"Guess we're both nervous."
For some reason, hearing him admit that made the weight on your shoulders feel lighter.
Just a little.
Enough.
The call lasted far longer than either of you intended.
Eventually, your textbooks were forgotten.
Your notes remained unfinished.
And for the first time all night, you weren't thinking about exams.
You were thinking about Choso.
When you finally crawled into bed hours later, his voice still lingered in your mind.
Tomorrow would change everything.
But for now, you closed your eyes knowing one thing for certain.
No matter where life took you after graduation.
You hoped Choso would be there too.
As for Choso…
The call had ended a few minutes ago.
And yet he was still staring at his phone.
Not because he was annoyed.
Because he couldn’t quite settle his thoughts.
He exhaled slowly and leaned back in his chair.
Finals were approaching.
He told himself he was ready.
But the truth was harder to ignore.
He wasn’t just worried about passing.
He was worried about what it meant if he didn’t.
If he failed, what kind of example would that set for his brothers?
Choso had always believed something simple.
If he stayed on the right path, they would have something to follow.
But if he failed…
They would be forced to find their own way in a world that didn’t give many directions.
His thoughts spiraled quietly in the dim light of his room.
Then—
The door opened.
Choso straightened immediately.
“Why are you still awake?” he asked.
Yuji stepped inside, grinning like he didn’t understand the concept of bedtime.
In his hands was a bracelet.
Black.
Simple.
Almost identical to the red one on Yuji’s wrist.
Choso blinked.
“…What is that?”
“I got them yesterday,” Yuji said proudly. “I thought it would cheer you up.”
“Cheer me up?”
“I saw you stressing about finals,” Yuji continued. “But don’t worry, Cho’. I believe in you. You’re gonna pass.”
For a moment, Choso didn’t respond.
His gaze dropped to the bracelet.
Then to Yuji.
He smiled softly
"Thank you, Yuji."
₊˚ ‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵˚₊
Years had passed.
And yet somehow, nothing between you and Choso felt different.
At least, not at first.
Now you were on the phone with him, arguing again about something that felt far too serious to be decided over a tired voice and late-night silence.
Roommates.
You both had been accepted to the same college.
Different paths, same campus.
It felt like fate.
Or maybe just bad luck, depending on how Choso looked at it.
You, on the other hand, were still planning things carefully. Law school was still the goal—but you weren’t ready yet. Not completely. You wanted more time to prepare, more time to make sure you wouldn’t fail.
And if you were being honest…
The idea of being away from him and Yuji bothered you more than you wanted to admit.
On the other end of the call, Choso was lying on his bed, one arm covering his face, phone pressed against his ear.
He listened quietly as you spoke, your chair faintly creaking as you spun absentmindedly in place.
“I’m telling you, Choso,” you insisted, “if we shared an apartment, we’d save money. And we could walk to campus together.”
A soft chuckle came through the phone.
Tired.
Low.
It made something in your chest pause for a second.
It was already late around ten at night. You couldn’t even pretend to be annoyed by his exhaustion.
“…Why are you laughing?” you asked, raising an eyebrow even though he couldn’t see you.
His voice came through again.
Calm and raspy
And for a second, it made your thoughts completely freeze.
“I’m sorry…”
His voice was quiet on the other end of the line.
“I just think your attempts at sounding convincing are… somewhat adorable.”
There was a brief pause.
You could hear it then, the faint sound of his hand covering his mouth, like he was trying to hide the last word from reaching you too clearly.
Adorable.
It landed differently coming from him.
Not teasing.
Not sarcastic.
Just… honest.
And somehow that made it worse.
You stared at nothing in particular, gripping your phone a little tighter.
Because this was new.
Choso teasing you was normal.
Choso ignoring your teasing was normal.
But Choso initiating it like this, soft, unguarded, almost shy..
That was dangerous.
And you absolutely could not let him know how much it affected you.
You stopped spinning in your chair and tilted the camera upward, letting it face the ceiling.
A few seconds passed.
Then a minute.
Finally, you spoke again.
“D-don’t you think it’s a bit late for teasing?” you muttered, pouting slightly. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want to share an apartment with me…”
You rubbed your feet together nervously while waiting for his answer.
A faint sigh came through the speaker.
Then—
The camera shifted.
Choso’s face appeared.
His hair was down, slightly messy.
Droopy eyes stared into the screen, like he was trying to find you through it.
“Why would you even think I need convincing to share an apartment with you?” he asked quietly.
You immediately pulled your legs up onto the chair, trying unsuccessfully to hide your face from the camera.
“…What about Yuji?” you asked instead.
A small pause.
“He’s not a kid anymore,” Choso said with a faint laugh. “He told me he’s staying on campus. Sharing a dorm with his friend, Megumi. So I don’t have to worry about him.”
"Oh. good for him." You exhaled smiling.
“Anyways… I’m coming over tomorrow,” Choso said. “We can find an apartment near the college then. Alright?”
You shifted, grabbing your phone and letting yourself fall back onto the bed.
The camera tilted with you.
Now he could see you clearly.
Your face lit softly by the glow of your bedside lamp.
You nodded.
“…Alright.”
On the screen, Choso’s expression softened. His eyes were half-lidded, tired in a way that made him look calmer than usual.
A small smile tugged at his lips.
“G’night.” he murmured.
“Good night, Cho…”
The call ended.
Silence filled your room.
For a moment, you just lay there, staring at the ceiling.
Then a smile slowly formed on your lips.
“I’m gonna share an apartment with my best friend…”
You whispered it like it wasn’t fully real yet.
Like saying it out loud might make it disappear.
…
The apartment search started earlier than you expected.
You had told yourself it would be simple, quick visits, a few opinions, then done.
But standing outside the first building, you already felt like something was different.
Choso stood beside you, hands in his pockets, looking up at the structure with his usual unreadable expression.
“…It’s fine,” he said after a moment.
“That’s it? Just ‘fine’?”
He glanced at you.
“It has walls.”
You stared at him.
“That’s your standard now?”
“It’s important.”
You sighed, already regretting bringing him along.
The first apartment was too small.
The second was too expensive.
The third had a weird smell that neither of you commented on, but both of you clearly noticed.
By the time you reached the fourth one, you were EXHAUSTED.
“This is the last one..” you muttered.
Choso hummed quietly beside you.
Inside, the apartment was simple.
Clean.
Two bedrooms.
A small shared living room.
Sunlight filtered through the window in a way that made everything feel softer than it probably was.
You walked slowly through the space.
“This one’s better,” you said, mostly to yourself, looking around.
Choso didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he stood in the middle of the living room, looking around like he was trying to imagine something.
Not the furniture.
Not the walls.
Something else.
“You’re quiet,” you said.
“I’m thinking.”
“About what?”
He paused.
Then, like it was obvious:
“Where you’d put your books.”
Your steps slowed.
“…My books?”
“They’re everywhere when you study,” he added calmly. “You’d need space.”
You blinked at him.
That was not the answer you expected.
And for some reason, it made your chest feel a little warmer than it should have.
The agent started talking again, but you barely heard them.
Choso had already moved toward the window.
“You like it?” you asked.
He looked back at you.
A short pause.
“…Yeah.”
Just that.
Simple.
Certain.
You tried to ignore the small feeling building in your stomach.
“Me too,” you said quietly.
Another pause.
Then:
“…We’ll take it,” you added.
The agent smiled.
“Great choice.”
Choso didn’t react much.
But when you glanced at him, he was still looking at the room.
Like he had already accepted it as something real.
Something shared.
And that thought stayed with you longer than it should have.
…
After successfully moving all your things into the apartment, everything felt… different.
Quieter.
Closer.
And somehow, more natural than you expected.
With college starting soon, you and Choso found yourselves falling into a routine almost immediately.
He started knocking lightly on your door every morning.
Not because he was a morning person.
And definitely not because you were.
Neither of you were.
But someone had to make sure you actually got up.
And apparently, that someone had become him.
Since Yuji was away on campus now, Choso didn’t have anyone to “take care of” anymore.
At least, that’s what he said.
But now that he was living with you…
It felt like that role had quietly shifted without either of you discussing it.
He had started checking on you more.
Naturally.
Casually.
Like it was the most normal thing in the world.
One morning, you opened your door still half-asleep, rubbing your eye.
“What do you want for breakfast?” he asked.
His voice was low.
Rough with sleep.
It caught you off guard in a way you couldn’t quite explain.
And for a second..
You forgot how to answer.
You rubbed your eyes in confusion.
Everything still looked blurry.
He didn’t give you time to fully wake up before answering.
“Fried eggs and bacon it is.”
Your favorite.
That made you pause for a second, even if your brain was still half asleep.
When your vision finally cleared, you stopped in your tracks.
Choso was standing in the kitchen.
His back was turned toward you, the morning light hitting him softly through the window.
He looked… unreal in a quiet way.
Tall. Lean. Focused.
Wearing loose white sweatpants and a black tank top that exposed his shoulders.
The sight made your thoughts lag behind your body.
For a second, you just stood there watching him cook like it was something you weren’t supposed to interrupt.
“Morning,” you mumbled eventually.
Without turning around, he hummed in response.
Like he already knew you were there.
You sat down at the table slowly, still waking up, watching him move around the kitchen with an ease that didn’t feel new anymore.
It already felt like routine.
Like this had always been your life.
After a few minutes, he placed the plate in front of you.
You ate slowly, feeling the heaviness of your eyes while trying to keep the fork in your hand steady.
After you finished, you didn’t even think about it before getting up again.
Wordlessly, you walked behind him and reached for the bathroom drawer.
Two hair ties.
You always kept them there now.
“Stay still” you said softly.
“…I am still.”
“You know what I mean.”
He didn’t argue.
He never did.
Instead, he leaned slightly back into the chair, scrolling through his phone while you started gathering his hair.
The familiar motion of tying it into his spiky buns came naturally now.
Like muscle memory.
As you worked, he occasionally turned his phone slightly toward you.
A TikTok.
A random picture.
Something Yuji had sent him.
You laughed under your breath more than once, carefully parting his hair as you did.
It all felt too easy.
Too natural.
Like neither of you had ever really had to adjust to it.
And maybe that was the dangerous part.
Because it meant you started getting used to him.
Completely.
A thought suddenly crossed your mind.
You still hadn’t told your father much about him.
Not really.
There was never a good time.
And honestly…
You weren’t sure how you would even explain it.
“I’m living with a guy I’ve known since college who cooks for me every morning and lets me do his hair while we laugh at TikToks.”
Yeah.
That wouldn’t go well.
“…I’m going to live in an apartment,” you had said before, keeping it simple.
Your father had just nodded over his journal.
Like always.
Back in the present, your fingers gently tightened the last hair tie.
Choso reached for his phone again.
But then—
A notification appeared.
An email.
The landlord.
Hakari Kinji.
His expression shifted slightly.
Not much.
But enough.
The faint smile he usually wore in moments like this disappeared.
And for the first time that morning…
Something in the air felt different.
Silence.
"what’s wrong Choso?” You said in a quiet but worried tone.
When you finished tying his hair, Choso stood up.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said simply, grabbing his keys. “Just get ready. We leave in twenty.”
Before you could respond, he was already walking toward the door.
“…Weird,” you muttered under your breath.
The door closed behind him.
A second later, you heard him outside—his voice low as he made a phone call.
You stayed still for a moment.
Something about his tone didn’t sit right with you.
But you brushed it off.
You already knew why Choso received persistent calls from the landlord.
Rent.
It had been harder lately, on both of you.
Hakari was… not exactly patient when it came to delays. He usually gave you some time, especially when you explained how difficult it was to find stable work in this part of the city.
But patience wasn’t his strongest trait.
And when money didn’t arrive on time…
He made that very clear.
You had managed to find a part-time job in a café not too far from the apartment, but the hours were limited.
And the pay..
Well.
It wasn’t enough to make anything easy.
And Choso…
He was still searching.
He had gone to multiple job interviews already, and every time you tried to help him prepare, teaching him how to smile, how to ease his expression, how to look less like he was about to scare someone off he would nod like he understood.
And then completely fail to do it anyway.
Apparently, “normal friendliness” didn’t come naturally to him.
The recruiters always ended up glancing away too quickly.
Sometimes it was his piercing stare.
Sometimes it was the strange black stripe across his nose.
Sometimes it was just… him.
Either way, he hadn’t gotten a single offer yet.
You still reassured him.
Told him he’d find something eventually. Something that suited him.
Choso listened quietly, his expression unchanged.
“…I don’t need reassurance,” he said flatly, like the conversation was already over.
And that was the end of it.
Or at least, that’s what he wanted it to be.
You’d usually pass by his room without thinking at first.
But then you’d stop.
Choso was there.
Sitting on the floor, back against the wall.
Unmoving.
His eyes weren’t focused on anything in particular, just distant, heavy, like he was somewhere far away that you couldn’t reach.
It wasn’t the stoic expression he showed the world.
This was different.
And for some reason, it made your chest ache.
The worries of not being able to pay rent on time resurfaced as you headed toward the bathroom.
The hot water would hopefully wash some of that anxiety away.
Outside, Choso stepped into the corridor and answered his phone.
The moment he lifted it to his ear, he nearly pulled it away again.
"LISTEN HERE—"
Hakari's voice exploded through the speaker.
"MY MONEY WAS SUPPOSED TO BE HERE BY TUESDAY!"
Several heads immediately poked out of nearby apartment doors.
Choso closed his eyes.
"...Morning, Hakari."
"DOES IT LOOK LIKE A GOOD MORNING TO ME?"
His yelling echoed through the hallway.
A woman down the corridor quickly retreated back into her apartment.
"Didn't I tell you to get your shit together?" Hakari continued. "Every month it's the same thing with you two!"
"I'm aware."
"ARE YOU?"
"We're trying as hard as we can to pay you on time."
"Tried real hard last month too."
Despite the shouting, Choso remained calm.
"Didn't we pay you eventually?"
A dangerous silence followed.
Then—
"Took your sweet time doing it."
Choso sighed.
There it was.
The real problem.
Hakari wasn't angry because he thought they wouldn't pay.
He was angry because he hated waiting.
A long silence followed.
Then, unexpectedly, Hakari laughed.
Not the mocking kind.
The kind that sounded like he'd just remembered something amusing.
"See, kid, I ain't the type to pity people."
Choso frowned.
"Then why haven't you kicked us out yet?"
"Funny you should ask."
The grin in Hakari's voice widened.
"Do you know why?"
"...Why?"
"Because I see potential in you, Choso."
His brow lifted.
"What?"
Before he could question it further, Hakari continued.
"Let me ask you something."
Choso leaned against the wall.
"If somebody came up to you and said, 'Do one thing for an hour a day and you'll make ten thousand dollars a month,' would you believe them?"
Choso didn't even need to think about it.
"I'd have my doubts."
Hakari chuckled.
"Good."
The response seemed to please him.
"A lot of idiots would've jumped at that."
His voice lowered slightly.
"But people don't chase money as much as they think they do."
Choso stayed silent.
"They chase the feeling."
"The feeling?"
"The heat."
Hakari's tone grew almost thoughtful.
"The rush of risking everything."
"The possibility of winning."
"The possibility of losing."
"There's something addictive hiding underneath all of that."
Something in Choso's expression shifted.
"What are you trying to say?"
Choso's voice had grown colder.
His patience was running thin.
He hadn't stepped into the corridor to discuss philosophy.
He had stepped out to buy more time.
Hakari clicked his tongue.
"I'm saying you're looking at the wrong problem."
"The rent is the problem—"
"No."
For the first time since the call started, Hakari sounded completely serious.
"The problem is that next month you'll be having this exact same conversation."
Silence.
Choso hated that he had a point.
Hakari continued.
"What kind of passion do you have, Choso?"
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Everything."
His voice lowered.
"Do you want to spend the rest of your life scraping together rent money?"
Choso's jaw tightened.
"Or do you actually want out?"
The corridor suddenly felt smaller.
"If you're happy living like this, that's fine."
Hakari shrugged audibly.
"Stay where you are."
"Keep struggling."
"Keep hoping something changes."
A pause.
Then—
"But if you want something better..."
Choso frowned.
"...Then what?"
Hakari laughed quietly.
The sound sent a strange feeling down his spine.
"Now we're finally having the right conversation."
Choso remained silent.
His thumb hovered over the screen.
One press.
That's all it would take to end the conversation.
He had already wasted enough time listening to Hakari ramble about passion, gambling, and changing his life.
Then Hakari spoke again.
"I know some people."
Choso's thumb paused.
"People who can get you a job."
The silence on the line shifted.
Not gone.
Interested.
"A real one," Hakari continued. "Something that'll keep you and your little girlfriend off the hook for a while."
Choso frowned immediately.
"...My what?"
Hakari barked out a laugh.
"You heard me."
"She's not my girlfriend."
"Sure."
The response came far too quickly.
"I called about rent."
"And I'm talking about rent."
For once, Hakari's voice was serious.
"No promises."
"No guarantees."
"But if you've got the guts for it, I can introduce you to people who'll pay a hell of a lot more than some coffee shop ever will."
The corridor fell silent.
For a moment, all Choso could hear was the distant sound of traffic outside.
Then Hakari asked:
"So?"
A pause.
"You think you can handle the heat or not?"
Choso's eyes narrowed.
For the first time since answering the call, genuine irritation slipped into his voice.
"Im not getting involved in shady shit, 'Kari."
A scoff came through the phone.
"I'm serious."
"I told you," Choso continued, "I'll find a job sooner or later."
Hakari groaned, a sign he was irritated.
"There won't be a later."
The casualness in his voice disappeared.
"I want my money next Monday."
A pause.
"Or what?"
"Or I come collect."
Choso's grip tightened around his phone.
"And if I don't have it?"
Hakari laughed.
Not because he found it funny.
Because the answer seemed obvious.
"Then I’ll drag both of y’all asses out myself—"
"You ain't touching her."
The words came out immediately.
Sharp.
Certain.
Hakari was silent for a moment.
Then—
"There he is." He laughed.
Choso frowned.
"What?"
"That's the first time you've sounded interested in this conversation."
"..."
"I'll send you the number."
Choso opened his mouth to refuse.
The call ended before he could.
Then silence
As soon as the call ended, Choso lowered his phone.
Silence.
For the first time all morning, he had a moment to process what had just happened.
The rent.
Hakari's offer.
The deadline.
The number he was about to receive.
A sigh escaped him.
He rubbed the back of his neck and leaned against the wall outside the apartment.
This was bad.
Really bad.
His thoughts immediately drifted toward you.
Without realizing it, he pushed open the door and stepped back inside.
And there you were.
Standing in the living room.
Adjusting your shoes before leaving.
The sunlight spilling through the window caught on the gold buckle around your waist.
A black knit top rested slightly off one shoulder.
White jeans completed the outfit.
Simple.
Effortless.
You looked good.
Beautiful.
The thought arrived before he could stop it.
Choso froze.
His eyes widened slightly.
Then he immediately looked away.
What the hell was that?
His grip tightened around the fabric of his shirt.
A strange feeling settled somewhere in his chest.
One he had been noticing more often lately.
Before he could think about it any longer, he grabbed his black sweatshirt from the couch and pulled it on.
Problem solved.
At least, that's what he told himself.
"Ready?" you asked.
He cleared his throat.
"...Yeah."
The answer came a little faster than usual.
As you and Choso walked side by side, the city seemed quieter than usual.
The morning rush moved around you.
Cars passed.
People talked.
Yet somehow, it all felt distant.
Like the world had slowed down for just a little while.
You were saying something.
Probably a joke.
Because a second later, you laughed.
And Choso found himself smiling too.
His eyes drifted toward you.
The sunlight caught your face for a moment.
And suddenly—
"Do you want to stay in this mess with no hope of ever changing your life?"
His smile disappeared.
Hakari's words echoed through his mind.
His grip tightened around the phone in his pocket.
The weight of it felt heavier now.
His breathing slowed.
His gaze dropped to the pavement.
Then returned to you.
You.
The girl who had somehow become part of every important memory he had.
The girl who listened to his rambling explanations about blood composition without walking away.
The girl who laughed whenever his hair ended up looking ridiculous.
The girl who somehow made even the worst days feel lighter.
His chest tightened.
Before meeting you, Choso had convinced himself that his world began and ended with his brothers.
Then you happened.
And somehow, without him noticing, you had carved out a place beside them.
A place nobody else had ever reached.
His eyes softened.
You and Yuji.
The two people he cared about most.
The two people he wanted to protect.
No matter what.
His fingers curled around the phone.
Maybe Hakari was full of shit.
Maybe the offer was a terrible idea.
Maybe nothing good would come from it.
But—
He owed it to them to at least look.
"...I should see what the job is first."
The thought settled heavily in his mind.
And for the first time since the phone call ended.
He stopped considering hanging up on the opportunity.
If there was even the slightest chance it could help you and Yuji...
Choso had to know.
And that’s exactly what he did.
₊˚ ‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵˚₊
It was a cold night.
The city outside had long since fallen quiet, leaving only the occasional sound of distant traffic filtering through the apartment.
Before leaving, Choso stopped by your room.
The window had been left slightly open again.
A habit of yours.
Without a word, he walked over and carefully pushed it shut.
The cool breeze disappeared almost instantly.
You stirred beneath the blankets.
A small frown appearing before you instinctively burrowed deeper into the warmth.
Choso glanced down at you.
Then gently pulled the blanket higher over your shoulder.
The movement earned a sleepy sigh from you.
His expression softened.
For a moment, he stayed there.
Watching.
Making sure you were comfortable.
Making sure you were warm.
Then he stepped away.
Quietly closing the door behind him.
The softness in his eyes disappeared as he reached for the front door.
A black hoodie.
His keys.
His phone.
One final breath.
And then he left.
The address led Choso to an empty parking lot.
The place was deserted.
Only a handful of streetlights remained lit, their pale glow reflecting off the ground.
A black Mercedes-Benz sat near the far end of the lot.
Two men in black were waiting beside it.
Like they had been expecting him.
Neither moved as Choso approached.
One leaned casually against the car.
The other remained silent, hands tucked into his pockets.
The closer Choso got, the more obvious it became that they were studying him.
Judging him.
Measuring him.
Choso stopped a few feet away.
Silence settled between them.
A stare-down.
Nobody looked away.
Nobody spoke.
Then—
One of the men smirked.
"Choso, right?"
Choso's fist tightened instinctively.
The moment the stranger reached into his pocket, he subtly shifted his stance.
Ready.
If things went south, he'd at least be able to react.
But instead of a weapon, the man pulled out a blunt wrap.
Choso blinked.
For the first time that night, genuine surprise crossed his face.
The stranger placed it in his palm.
"Ever rolled one of these before?"
Choso lowered his gaze to the wrap.
A familiar feeling settled in his stomach.
So that's what this was.
The job.
The reason Hakari had called.
The reason two strangers were waiting for him in an empty parking lot at night.
His thumb brushed against the paper.
"...Used to."
Toji raised an eyebrow.
"Used to?"
"I think."
Choso studied it for another second.
"Not sure I remember how anymore."
A grin spread across Toji's face.
"Then let's see."
He handed over the rest of the materials before leaning back against the Mercedes.
Arms crossed.
Watching.
Waiting.
Like he already knew how this was going to end.
The silent man watched closely.
At first, his expression gave nothing away.
Then, little by little, his brows began to lift.
He clearly hadn't expected Choso to be this skilled.
Choso's fingers moved carefully, shaping the wrap with practiced precision.
Years had passed since the last time he had done this.
Yet somehow, the motions still came naturally.
"There."
He held it out.
The man took it and inspected it for a moment before nodding.
Toji let out a low whistle.
"Not bad."
The stranger lit it.
For a few seconds, neither man spoke.
Smoke drifted into the cold night air.
Then the stranger laughed.
"You're pretty good at this, Choso."
Choso remained quiet.
A small part of him wondered how they knew his name so casually.
But the answer was obvious.
Hakari.
Of course.
The stranger reached into his pocket and pulled out a small package.
His expression turned serious.
"Work starts now."
The amusement from earlier was gone.
"Find the party host."
He placed the package into Choso's hand.
"Bring back the money."
A pause.
"Understood?"
The weight of the package felt heavier than it should have.
Choso stared at it for a second before slipping it into his pocket.
Smooth.
"And what's the pay?"
Choso's voice remained calm.
There was a brief pause.
Then Toji let out a quiet chuckle. “I like him,” he said, almost approvingly.
The other man tilted his head, studying Choso for a moment before nodding. “He’s got confidence. I respect that.”
SYNOPSIS — Helping the quiet TA, who shrinks himself down to avoid taking too much space, come out of his shell. You’re slowly understanding why he thrives in an environment where he’s told what to do — and he shows you why he’s hesitant to be in charge.
TAGS — MDNI (18 + only) nsfw. work contains explicit sexual themes and content. piv. Gentle Giant!Choso, Dork!choso, overly freaked out!reader. Nerd!choso, SIZE KINK, sub to top(M), Switchy. rough. making out. couch sex. lifting. mutual masturbation. Changing positions. Missiònary. excessive use of sexual innuendos, dacryphilla, inconsistent writing (?). Choso will do anything you ask. PWP. Teasing, Degradation (both). pet names. crack.fluff. reader is nice to him obv. but freaked out.
WC: 14k — art by k4eny on twt
a/n: Hello blog, IM VERY HAPPY W THIS ONE and i promise to not leave u high and dry! this is highly inspired by an augustinthewinter audio (im a #freak) — Also what if I release my drabbles HEH
75%
The score read on your last mock test for your Historiography class. Your worst subject for the semester by far. Next week was going to be your midterm. Now, since your professor, Mr. Gojo, knows his students a little too well, he facilitated a surprise mock text to see how much you all understood the lessons.
A chorus of curses and groans start filling up the classroom with each student receiving their results as they’re handed out.
“…Now I can assure you, if you guys are worried about scoring higher than each other, it won’t matter because theoretically almost all of you failed.”
Another set of groans and a little bit of laughter comes from the class. You’re back to looking down on your paper, flipping through the pages to check every question and each correction out of habit, noting down what you have to improve on. Then you stumble upon the last page with the words;
Feel free to ask for help :) You smile, knowing exactly who wrote this without them being in the room. You look up to double check and you’re right, it was just your prof still going on about Khaldun or something — you tune him out to make way for the giddy feeling rushing through your stomach.
Usually you’d hate for people to offer help when you’re forced to do something you were unprepared for, taking the sentiment as a passive aggressive version of getting called incompetent but this time, you ponder while rereading the sweet little note in green ink— of course he used green ink to avoid students from being discouraged — and it's one of those times your stupidity has done you some good.
It’s an hour and a half later when class ends, people filing up to leave the doors of the lecture hall when a voice calls out to you.
You smile at your professor, a little strained, but it’s okay, you tell yourself, you expected it. You walk up to him, bag on your shoulder, unzipped because you rushed down. You’re still smiling when you’re there, already preparing for what he has to say.
The smile falls and you sigh, “I know that look.”
He’s standing with his arms crossed, dark shades balanced on his straight nose, looking down at you with nothing short of paternal disappointment. “Yes, and you shouldn’t be too familiar with it either. Seventy-five? really? I thought we were talking recommendation letters last week, turns out you’re barely passing my class?”
You swallow back, not really knowing what to do so you kinda just stand there awkwardly, waiting for him to air out his worries. “I know it's like, a little weird to put this much pressure on you but c’mon kid, you’re looking at being the next assistant after Choso to help your resumé right?”
You nod, still not saying anything, but you can’t deny how you perk up when you heard his name.
Your professor pauses briefly mid rant after spotting how you only met his eyes when he mentioned his current TA’s name, a light bulb flickers on in his head.
He squints, “You’ve been familiar with each other, correct?”
“Yes, sir.” You’re quick to reply, stopping yourself from physically gulping out of nervousness.
“He been showing you the ropes bit by bit?” he mutters, uncrossing his arms and leaning over the desk.
“Bit by bit, yes.” You echo, unable to reply without being scared of saying the wrong thing to tick him off.
“And…” He feigned thinking about it, fidgeting with he pen in his hand and tapping the butt end of it on a thick stack of paper. “…He’s also helping with lessons to keep your grades up?”
You say nothing, keeping your mouth flat and shut. You peer up at him, and shake your head slowly, “No sir.”
He tsks, standing up to his full height. “It’s not necessary but you’re aware there’s an average for you to keep up just to become a TA right? We wouldn’t want students biting off more than they could chew.”
You nod once more, though this time, a lot more fervently. “I—yes, sorry. I’ll-“
“Get to it, yeah.” He finished for you, tucking his hands in the pockets of his slacks. He waits for you to move, watching how you’re still standing there and waiting for him to also tell you to move. You’re so alike, he thinks.
He nods upwards, dismissing you. You thank him while you’re already turned your back, eagerly making your way to your next mission.
Gojo watches the door swing inwards from the impact of your departure, a smile in his tone when he mutters to no one, “That’ll give her some motivation.”
You’re rushing to your next class now, given the fifteen minute grace period you were granted had now been shaved down to ten, no thanks to your professor, forcing you to take two steps at a time when making your way to the other side of the building.
You’re looking down at your phone, deleting and retyping a message in your instagram dms. It’s when you pass the stairway that an unexpected force uncontrollably comes on to you. You thud against it, breathe caught, hand tightly clutching at your phone. You stumble on your steps, holding onto the closest thing you feel for. You don’t fall, you don’t even come close to the ground, but your knees certainly felt like they couldn’t carry you.
Because here you stood against a very worried, very tightly holding you, Choso Kamo. Your mind blanks, your class just a few doors away, forgotten. Unintentionally, a small smile spreads on your face.
“Hey, I was—“ He laughs nervously, “I was looking for you.” His hands wrap around your nearly limp arms, almost covering the expanse of it, yet held at a respectable position.
“You okay?” He tilts his head down to meet your eyes, a look of concern etching back on his terribly handsome face, he swallows thickly and you watch his adam’s apple bob decorating his thick neck.
He takes a second to peer back at the stairs, then back to you before he realizes how his grip still clutched on you. “I’m sorry.” He pulls his hands down at his sides, unsure of what to do with them. “I was about to-“
“-Me too actually.” Cutting him off, you couldn’t help but smile even wider, uncaring if you looked too excited. You raised your phone, “Was about to send a dm but I got class in like,” You flip the screen to face you, “two minutes.” A pinch of apprehension makes its way to you but you push it back.
His eyes widen behind his rectangular frames, lenses making them appear bigger than they actually are.
“Really? Shit, “ He cursed, regretful, “I don’t have class anymore so I could just wait out—”
“Sit in with me?” It comes out of you before you could stop it. “—or not.” You quickly add, retreating. “I could just go and email you.”
“No—I mean, Of course. Yes. Me, I’ll go.” He smiled with a toothy grin, ignoring how you said email instead of your socials in hopes you won’t bring up how he stuttered over his words. You’re caught off guard and before you know it, he’s already making his way to the door without even being sure which class it was.
He’s reaching for the handle when you stop him, “Oh, next door, please.” He nods bashfully, adjusting the strap of his comically small backpack on himself and apologizes under his breath. He follows you inside, you push, prying the door open. His palm flat against the wood, effortlessly holding it for you both.
Luckily your professor hadn’t been in class yet, so you weren’t spotted as the only late comer (technically no, with company, you weren’t.) The class was sparsely filled as it was only part of your minor and this schedule wasn’t as popular, so you could basically sit anywhere. You scan over the room, and you spot some seats at the very front. You’re about to take a step forward when you realize you’re being a little rude.
“Where d’ya wanna sit?” You ask, head tilted up with a smile. You try to ignore the gleefulness that comes with the idea you’re gonna be seated next to him. Again, you push this feeling down, knowing it’s completely unprofessional and straight up childish. Though conversely, what you feel for him is not in the slightest, childish.
“Back, definitely.” He answers a little too fast, blinking to check with you. “If you want.” He adds.
He’s so polite, you could just die.
You find comfortable seating by the right side of the class, second to last row and close to the back per request. This classroom was a little smaller, so distance from the whiteboard wasn’t really an issue.
You’re listening to your elderly professor repeat instructions about a future assignment and knowing he’s just going to be posting the guidelines, you just tune him out again, distracted. You have to learn to stop doing that.
But you’re shamelessly peeking at the side, Choso’s writing something down, you watch his face as he continues without a care in the world, back hunched down to get closer to the papers maybe, tongue poking the inside of his cheek in focus. You look down at what he’s writing when he flips the sheet over, the sound of the paper is quiet amongst the loud hum of the air conditioner.
He’s checking something, a test again? You wonder if yours is there. Something catches your eye, he’s even writing down notes in the side for each correction. Maybe he’s also writing notes of encouragement for others. You don’t wanna wanna act all sensitive but something in your chest dampens. A lick of disappointment knowing you weren’t just given a little extra effort.
You shift in your seat, suddenly aware that you completely distracted yourself again and let your overactive imagination take over. You bite your cheek, brushing off the disappointment and sit properly on your seat. It moves the entire table though, you moved a little too roughly. Choso backs up in his chair, the commotion throwing off your professor in his fruitless discussion.
You gasp before immediately turning to check on your hard of hearing professor. He mumbles some incoherent complaint but you don’t wait to think and just apologize, “Sorry,” and it’s hopefully enough to divert the attention from you both.
Choso grunts, “No—sorry, my chair was too loud.” He pulls the long, shared desk back with one pull of his hand, before hunching to go back to work. There’s already a furrow in your brows at the apology, and you’re staring at the side of his face, his hand behind his full, overgrown hair, expression mirroring your own except towards his papers.
You adjust back, only this time you’re a bit farther, scared he’ll probably sense you’re being a little invasive. So you keep your eyes up at the projected screen and let the silence pass, the light sound of the ballpoint scratching paper on the smooth surface of the table and your teacher murmuring mix behind the stupid thoughts interfering and prodding at your composure.
You made this unnecessarily awkward, eyes looking back down on the paper without trying. You’re still kinda curious what he’s writing down. He’s writing down notes to the side, red pen and all— red pen and all?
You do a double take, your uncontrollable, imposing, borderline deluded thoughts returning back to their place in your hopeless brain. Did he use a red pen for everyone or green? He used green earlier, definitely. What the hell? Why does it matter?
“Can I help you?” The inner monologue in your head ceases at the question. You glance up at him, a crooked smile on his face, dimple gracing his features. He waits for you to say something, you process how it's a little close to a tease. You’re unable to say something and end up nodding.
He smiles, achingly sweet and sincere, still waiting for a response. You blank out, unable to think of a proper fake answer in time.
A last flick of your gaze at the paper outs your thoughts, he looks down at them. “If you’re looking for any of your own, this isn’t your section’s.” He assures, trying to fill in the silence you were so talented in bringing out in your conversations.
You giggle out of pure giddiness, unable to hold it in as you act like a school girl and not a college student. It’s probably so strange to him that you’re acting this way — internally reprimanding yourself is your only avenue for self control at these moments. You hope he doesn’t think the same way. “No um, you’re so focused on writing nice notes for everyone and marking every point.“
He smiles wider, eyes turning into pretty crescents. He shakes his head once, sitting back on his chair, and finally not slouching. Your stomach flips noting how he occupies more than half the seat. He scratches his neck, eyes flicking back at the papers for a moment before meeting yours, then averting again.
“I don’t think…” He leaned over to read the name on the paper, “…Inumaki, T. thinks my detailed corrections, or rather critiques are very nice, nor the rest of section Z26.” he mumbled the last part, adjusting the collar of his pull over.
“critiques?” You inquire, unconsciously leaning to his side of the desk, closer so you could read them too. Choso hopes you can’t feel the warmth on his cheeks radiating right now.
He nods his head a little too quickly, despite not being able to see him from where you were. He’s dizzy with the scent of your floral shampoo under his nose, heady and pulling. “Yes, just to help with,” he falters again, your bare arm brushing against his own, clothed one when you point at a certain part of the paper while reading, knees hitting under the table when you’re closely looking down on the sheet. “With the, the uh, future tests yeah-”
Choso watches your lips move but he doesn’t hear what comes out. Right now, he’s pushing away such un-utterable, uncalled for thoughts when his view is your head over what would be is his lap, only being separated by this rickety table. It only gets worse when you shift your eyes at him, wide and up at his tired onyx ones, only now his are a little wider too, something past friendly reflecting in your before averting back down the white sheet.
You’re still reading the paper, taking in the info for each question. “Oh,”
He snaps out of his daze, immediately taking notice of your blank tone. “What’s wrong?”
You’re processing the words on the essay type test he’s checking and you realize you’ve never seen this kind of test before. “Y’know, now that I’m reading this, I don’t think we’ve answered this activity yet.” A beat, and Choso flips the paper down.
“Right, that’s probably not good,“ He places a spread out hand over the papers, sheets mix on top of each other, disheveled and disorganized, one nearly falling off the narrow table.
You’re already laughing, “You’re so clumsy,” your hand stopping one of them from flying out of place.
“No, you probably shouldn’t look at that too-“
“Relax, I don’t have the photographic memory to copy each answer. As much as I wish I did.” You mumble the last part, tucking the papers into an organized pile, facing outwards. “See? No cheating for me.”
Choso fights the smirk that inches his way under the skin of his cheeks, nodding to you. “I appreciate your integrity.” You return the look on his face except with the stack in your grasp right now, it reflects its white canvas like a soft light on your skin, a sweet warmth overcomes him. “I never told you why I was looking for you.”
You place the sheets separate from his pile of unfinished work. Pursing your lips, you make a noise of acknowledgment. “Oh, I was thinking the same thing. I didn’t know how to approach you ‘cause it was kinda embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing how?”
For a while, you contemplate how to make yourself sound less pathetic, trying to amp up how to sound flirtier without breaching whatever boundary of the title you held to him. You wanted to play safe, for now.
“Like to ask for help, I bet it's as funny as someone asking a stupid question since you probably didn’t have to do any of that when you were in my year.” You don’t have to confirm with him whether or not it’s true, Choso’s going straight to a master’s after graduating this year. You’ve been hyping yourself up to ask him out for a while, knowing that he’ll most likely drift from you as a friend with the work that comes with finishing one.
You truly weren’t looking for any kind of college relationship or even a fling, knowing such places bring unnatural levels of attraction to people who lack self identity, and if you’re being honest, college made you question that part of yourself when you first began.
Ergo, you focused on yourself for your first year to second. Now, you’re in your third year’s second semester and people are thinking about their thesis and fellowships. And here you were only starting to make career moves for your future in your third year.
But you digress, circling back to how all that led you to meet Choso. Someone you’ve made acquaintances with last year during an exhibit at the school’s anthropology museum. Yes, you had an anthropology museum — Jjk technical college was not cheap.
His hair was a tad shorter back then, guiding a bunch of first years through the new exhibit, excitedly discussing some bones and energy. The glint in his eyes was bright and he was wholly unfiltered, charmingly gauche. You had tried to pose a question at the time, wanting to entertain him out of definitely just pure curiosity for Bioarcheology, but second guessed yourself and never approached him again.
Until, it was that same year you found out he had been the TA for the professor you were aiming for next year (as a second year college student), and you found out he was resigning as the teacher’s assistant from a friend of a friend, and how Gojo had been already looking for a new one early on because Choso was that competent.
You want to say that maybe you joined just because professor Gojo was someone you highly look up to in the field of history research and will grant you a killer recommendation for a future career — which you know he will— there’s an underlying feeling where you also can’t deny that the idea of how it brings you closer to Choso made the position all the more appealing.
So this year, when Gojo read your CV and decided to accept you out of the many (3 applicants, one was an irregular student, the other a nepo baby), and encouraged Choso to start training you by now, it was like fate realigned itself to bring you closer to him.
Sort of.
Now he was in front of you- beside you, and casually replying with, “ I don’t mind spending my free time with you—tutoring and stuff.” He offers, completely unaware how he gets your stomachs in knots and your heart feels like it's trying to rip out of your ribcage.
“Really?” You ask too eagerly, he nods for extra reassurance. “It’s just, Historiography just isn’t something I’m good at but I’m also I find it interesting but it’s also really hard but— I also want this.” You size him up, towards his side of the table. “Y’know, this.”
He‘s about to point at himself, before looking at the papers and something clicks in place. “Checking papers on top of your thesis, dropping them off at Gojo’s office at 8 am, and getting death stares when I come across his students?”
You nod, almost even more eager, “Absolutely.”
“You’re perfect then.” He says, no hesitation whatsoever. You were eating it up and he was completely unaware. You giggle, heat rushing to your face.
You almost forgot how talking came easy with Choso. It was refreshing to meet someone you could hold a conversation with without feeling like you had to perform all the time, or wonder what to amp up or tone down. He had his intimidating moments at first, like being overqualified for a TA and the unmistakable height, or when you’re overthinking how to impress him and you don’t truly act yourself — but those impressions crumble effortlessly when you recognize him for his sincerity and obsession with the academe.
Choso can’t help but let a chuckle bubble in his throat, smooth and rich like a creamy cup of strong coffee. He’s analyzing your face, the apples of your cheeks are out with how wide you smile, he made you smile like that. The fact sits comfortably in his chest. He’s staring at your lips, maybe he can get away with it as him just looking down to your height, the few times he feels his own acted as an advantage for him.
“…any reason you use green?… Choso?” He blinks, and he’s back in the classroom and you’re now holding your own head with your palm, waiting for him to answer.
The back of his neck is hot with the thought you could probably notice him zoning out. “I like,” he searches your eyes, hesitating, and then, “I like green, so.” He nods, trying to rationalize his plain answer to himself.
You’re squinting, “Cool,” nothing behind your tone, just the air that still manages to sit awkwardly between you two, suddenly the old scribbles in the storage part of the desk was so interesting—
“And it's good for not like…” He swallows back his nerves, heart pounding in his ears. “I didn’t wanna discourage students.”
The admittance runs like oil down your back and you feel like you’ve hit him dead center in what you wanted to hear. “Right,” You look around, a false pretense of thinking in your expression, “So… why the red?” You ask curiously, pen in your hand scratching off the old paint under the desk in anticipation.
He paused like a deer caught in headlights, licking the dryness of his lips. Staring down the sheet of paper, yes it’s red indeed, he thinks. His lips part, you watch the smooth, glossy sheen of it move against the light. “I guess I have a favorite class.” He coughs, feigning the ease he was currently lacking with each word he carefully chose to speak.
Despite the urge to egg him on, you leave it at that, your bravery for the day already expended. You know if you continued you might say something a little irrational, and you’re also afraid to jump his bones too quickly. Though you’re pretty sure he could still hold you up if you tried.
Class ends anti-climactically, your professor waving your class off with a less than interested parting. You’re out of the classroom, Choso following behind when, “So, when do you wanna start? I’m free after class tomorrow and it’s the weekend. I don’t mind staying longer.”
You’re following his pace as you walk through the hallways of your building, aiming for the exit but you’re thinking about what happens after. You’re not fully sure where you’ll end up once you part. Do you just go? He stayed with you the entire boring class, (obviously the only reason why you want to stay longer and none other in particular) surely there must be something you have to do in return.
You’re nearing the exit and you can’t help but feel like you’re letting something slip if you go past the doors without making your thoughts known, “I have this thing with my best friend tomorrow, this is not a very good look for me— I promised I’d do this qualitative interview and—“
He’s quick to reply, “Oh yeah, I totally understand—“
Shit, okay you were not seizing the moment correctly. “You should come with me.” You turn over to him, unable to stop yourself.
Choso all but freezes, “What?”
Okay, no going back now, smacking your lips together before going for the kill. “—With me. Yeah, we could hang out and,” Could you still back out? No.
“Just, maybe study after? like we could study like… for the,” So much for not wanting to jump his bones, “…whole night.” You can’t look at him any longer, eyes scanning back the outside that now surrounds you. The noises of campus and the lamp posts are bright, projecting a warm white over you. But all this is not enough to comfort you from the trepidation finally shaking your brain.
You watch as Choso’s pale cheeks start to tinge into a flushy pink, eyebrows raising behind his glasses.
“Oh, okay, yes. Okay!” He nods taughtly, though willing.
You pause, “Okay?” trying to check if he’s serious.
“Sure.” You’re both standing opposite his body, shocked with what you’re hearing from the other as much as you were shocked from the words leaving yourselves.
A beat passes, leaves rustle, and amidst that you’re silently hoping it won't matter how you didn’t think this through fully. “Five o’clock sound good?”
***
It was a steady, calm-ish afternoon, your best friend Miwa was sat in front of you, laptops laid out on the table. She’s writing down notes and closing up her recording software and you’ve been fixing up your hair, clothes, and picking lint off it. You find a loose thread on your shirt when, “Hey,” You look up, alert. Miwa’s squinting at you, blue hair cast in a warm yellow from the mid-afternoon sun. “You good?”
You’re finger quits picking at yourself, “What? Yeah,” eyes flitting back to the pesky string sticking out of the hem of your top.
There’s a hum coming from in front of you, “You sure? You’ve been so fidgety this entire time.”
“I am not fidgety.” You say, fidgeting. A sigh comes out of you, and you lean back on your chair, hands coming on top of the arm rests. “You really okay with me bringing Choso?”
At this, Miwa’s lips curl into a smirk. “I knew it.”
Your eyes flick over to the side in thought, then back at her sly expression. “What do you know?”
She’s sitting up from her hunched posture over her laptop, and drinking from her cup of her almost lukewarm coffee, shrugging with her eyes still locked on yours.
Your thumbs come up from the arm rests, “What is it?”
She clears her throat, placing the mug on a coaster. She looks back up, a smirk still planted on her face. “Just that I didn’t know that he was your crush,” she expects you to reply, but you’re still waiting for her to elaborate. “Y’know, Choso.”
“I don’t have a crush on him!”
She squints, “Okay so we’re lying today.”
“It’s merely admiration— and some attraction at most.”
“That’s literally what a crush is based on.”
You’re blinking at her, feeling caught. You bite your tongue, knowing that your best friend out of anyone should be able to catch you in a lie. Or even a truth you lie to yourself about. You speak up, “Well?”
“Y’know I love you.” She starts.
“Oh no.” Dread seeps into your stomach, and you know if she starts somewhere along the lines of sugar coating, the following was about to be some bland truth coated around maybe an even bitter core inside.
“I like Choso! He’s been your friend for a while and I’ve never talked to him but he sounds really devoted to his work, maybe goodlooking, he’s smart, and he’s nice—“
“What would Muta think…?”
She chuckles, softening at the thought of her own boyfriend. “No, I just wanted to keep an eye out for you too when I say this.” She pauses, trying to find a way to word this as pleasantly as possible. “Cause you know how girls talk…”
You latch onto that last part, stomach churning in suspense. “Not really, I don’t.”
She stops herself from cackling at your nervous expression, “I just heard he’s always…nice.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Like too nice? I guess…it’s really hard to explain babe,“ She cuts herself off, sensing your growing apprehension. She observed how your hands are rubbing on the expanse of your cup, and bringing it to your lips to avoid saying something. She quiets down her tone, now kinda shy about mentioning it. She leans a bit towards you, “Like… in bed, y’know?”
You sputter in your mug, feeling unwelcome liquid scratch your throat. Miwa’s eyes widen when she watches you cough, eyes turning watery. “Ooh gag reflex, that’s not coming in handy.“
“Fucking shut up-“ You’re coughing still and she’s laughing uncontrollably now. “—I did not expect that.”
She’s wiping the corner of her corneas with a finger, “I—I’m sorry I just had to bring it up.”
You’re more composed now, eyes looking up at the clock, it’s ten minutes to five, and you’re trying to relax.
You don’t exchange looks with Miwa until a short moment passes for you to think.
“So have you thought about what it would be like?” You’re back to meeting her eyes, a silent exchange between you both. Miwa smiles at you, lowering her voice and putting a finger up to her ear like an agent, “Then I’m glad to relay information.” She’s giggling when you throw a tissue at her.
You’re already standing out of your seat and making your way to sit beside her. She motions her hand for you to come nearer, both turning your heads when the door chime rings and someone enters, calming down when it’s just some delivery person. You relax, side eyeing her.
Miwa inches closer, “Okay so I’m friends with this senior from my org and she had a friend who was seeing Choso, sort of? Anyways I mentioned once that you were replacing him and that you’re a little into him, sorry.” You’re beckoning her to continue, not caring much for the last part and nodding along.
“Anyways, it was like a one night stand thing and — don’t get me wrong I’m not trying to spread rumors or judge,” Another pause, and you’re already on the edge of your seat.
“Well? Go on,” You pull her in, arms tangled and clutching her, knee jittering.
“I heard he was kinda scared in bed? Like maybe he has a phobia or something.” Your knee stops, and you’re now confused, “It’s just kinda odd ‘cause the guys like a unit, right?” a crease forms between your brows. “Maybe he’s like… a power bottom?” she whispered, tone serious.
You’re nodding, taking in the information with actual consideration. “Possibly,” You’re fully facing her now, “Y’know…he is a TA.”
It’s Miwa’s turn to be confused, struggling to find the correlation. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
You fight the expression trying to pull on your lips, you nibble on the skin then let go, “I’d say he’s good at being told what to do.”
Miwa’s eyes widened, before adding, “Tell me when you find out.” A second where you’re both quiet and then you’re being shook by the shoulders, both of you squealing and chortling in your corner. It would be no surprise if you’ve caught the attention of other customers with your commotion.
She quits with the shaking, now smoothing over the fabric over your shoulders for messing up your top. “So what are you gonna do about it?”
You can’t help but entertain your imagination, “I mean I think I’m too conscious to be playing around too much.” Your friend nods along, supportive. Past these exciting thoughts, it was all a front for the feelings you struggled to word out, “I really like him, Miwa.”
She parts her lips but as if on cue, another chime from the door rings once more. He stood by the entrance for a brief moment, barely scanning the vicinity when he locked eyes on you, a cheeky grin lighting up his face.
***
“—I think they never made any real contact.”
“No, that’s definitely up for debate.”
Miwa watches your back and forth, pen in hand. Choso decided to be part of her research sample as well, given that he’s already here, he should make use of his time. And he didn’t mind, he liked helping out.
If only he could actually speak and answer the questions without you guys debating every time one of you made an opinion on something vaguely related to Miwa’s research topic. At first it was good, your opinions can be added too but now she’s running out of space in her storage with how long this unintentional joint interview was going.
“Okay guys, the interview questions are about historical revisionism. While I do see the correlation, how did we end up in Egypt and…?”
“Ancient Mesopotamia.” Both of you say, completing her sentence.
“I can elaborate.” Choso suggests, clearly unable to read between the lines of Miwa’s inquiry.
She stretches in her seat, her legs feeling cramped up with the lack of movement all this time. “Y’know what, I’ll hold you two to that. But first, let’s take a break!” It’s not even a minute until she’s out of both your and Choso’s sights, on the way to the restroom, pen and recorder left on the table.
“Y’know, I don’t think she likes me that much. I also think she’s too nice to tell me that.” You’re in the middle of cracking your neck until you’re moving your attention to him.
“Don’t worry too much about it, I think she just isn’t up for hearing any more strong opinions on exported textiles.”
“That’s if they were truly exported—“ You shove his arm, and he’s laughing at your face, not even moved from the push. He’s pretending to rubbing his bicep in feigned hurt, lifting his arm in the process, almost flexing. You try to ignore how they felt so hard under your fingertips. You check him out unintentionally, taking notice of how the hem of his layered shirt hangs enough to show the lower part of his stomach. Out of respect, you look the other way.
You swallow thickly, ears hot. “I think I’ll get another snack. Want anything to eat?” You’re already standing up and off the chair, limbs wobbly from the long period of time you spent sitting on the deep arm chair.
There’s a sudden burst of noise coming from the entrance of the café, very loud and boisterous. You can’t help but let your jittery self get distracted, there stood an entire group of men, looking like they just got off practice. You’re wondering why one of them looks vaguely familiar, but there’s a body blocking your view out of nowhere with what you realize is Choso’s chest.
There’s an odd, slightly frantic look in his eyes you haven’t seen on someone as easygoing as him. “Um, how about I go with you?”
You’re looking up at him, a little skeptical on why the sudden change of tone, but agree anyways.
You’re in the short line along the display and point out pastries that you could try when a voice calls out to the person beside you. “Cho!”
It’s easier for you to check where it’s coming from as Choso was in front of said voice. You recognize the pink hair from the group coming in earlier. He’s about 2 inches away from being as tall as Choso, hair damp like he just came from a shower, and a sports bag was strapped across him.
A pat on his shoulder signals your dark haired companion to turn, seeing a sight he’d been trying to avoid earlier. Of course he had to be the one ordering for his group.
“Hey man,” Choso greets, strained, a guard visibly coming up around him.
“What’s up, you don’t say hi to family anymore?” The sentiment, although on paper sounded sweet, in reality was like a taunt. Something you don’t wanna dissect to avoid reading into it too much. “Who’s this?”
You peer over at both of them, their attention now on you. Still unable to read the room, you focus on Choso to see how he wants this to play out. He steps in for you, “You know her, I mentioned the TA thing like a while back. She’s a friend, though she is replacing me.”
He gestures to the pinkette’s side, introducing him.
“My brother by the way. Same year though.”
Sukuna nods at that and smiles, canines showing. He reaches out with his hand, and you meet it halfway. “Ryomen Sukuna.” Huh, he’s not a Kamo.
“Pleasure,” You’re squinting your eyes, there’s something a little unsettling about him that you can’t place, but you’re not trying to jump into that.
“I didn’t know Choso had any siblings — ones on campus, no less.”
You let go of his large, callous hands, moving an inch closer to the cashier when the customer before you has their turn to order. “Have 2 terms to catch up with and I don’t really see this one around either ‘cause I did training camp in Barcelona last semester.”
You nod in acknowledgement. Silently, you’re comparing them, unknowingly looking back and forth between him and Choso a little too obviously.
“We don’t look related do we?”
Before you could defend yourself, a dry chuckle beats you to it. “We get that a lot.” He squeezed where his hand was planted on Choso, who visibly tenses. “Different mom, same dad. He doesn’t take after him though, if you’re worried—“
“Alright, I don’t think she wants to know about that.”
“Speak for yourself,” You laugh nervously, trying to ease the tension you could feel multiplying tenfold. He pats Choso’s shoulder before bringing his hand down to the side, not before looking at the side of his brother's face as he semi-whispered, “At least one of you doesn't have their panties in a twist.”
“I would if I were wearing mine.” A very long, awkward silence overcomes all three of you. That is until a nearly genuine smile breaks out of Sukuna’s angular features.
“Ha, what the fuck,” He mutters in amusement, “You’re both weird, that’s cute.” A dry chuckle eases the anxiousness you were struggling to place the source of. Though at the cost of your own dignity.
The line to the cashier moves, it’s yours and Choso’s turn now. He’s first to leave his brother’s side, not even bidding him a glance as he moves past you. “Nice meeting you,” you voice out, still on edge, Sukuna just nods in acknowledgement.
***
It’s around 6:40pm when Choso walks you to your apartment outside of campus. There’s a slight tension in the air that you’re struggling to bring up, it’s been there for the remainder of your meet up, not having said a word since you’ve left the café. You’ve been trying to make a move and talk to him but he’s had his eyes on the ground this entire time, rarely up, and definitely never on you.
He was about to walk in the pedestrian lane when you tug on his backpack. He’s caught in the pull, looking up to the red walking signal reflecting on the road. He walks back to stand next to you, still not saying a word. “What’re you thinking so hard on?”
For a moment he turned his head to you, a little too quick to not look like he wasn’t anticipating you to bring it up yourself. He looks ahead once more when you’re walking now. “I’m sorry about earlier.”
You start to feel a little guilty for not clarifying sooner, wondering if this entire time he thought he should’ve apologized for something he couldn’t control.
“It’s alright, it wasn’t unpleasant for me.”
He almost laughs at that, “Right, and I was jumping for joy.”
The air shifts, it’s not so tense anymore, just between that and uncertainty directed at something else entirely. “I felt really dumb earlier.” He adds, looking back down on the pavement. “I couldn’t say anything to make him leave us alone.”
You’re a few blocks nearby to your place, walking a little ahead of him so he could follow you now.
“Again, it wasn’t that bad. You don’t have to apologize.” Once more, silence fills the space between you both and it feels like you’re unable to remove this weight you feel affecting your interaction.
Now you’re both looking at your feet as you wait for cars to pass the street you’re crossing and for the timer to finally get to zero. Your foot is stepping over a dry leaf to fill in the lack of communication, the sound crunching in the quiet in a loud, distant manner.
“I just kinda get made fun of for acting like this—weak.” You crane your neck up to meet his eyes, and you’re right to think he’s still looking down. “It’s just annoying how even until now it’s expected of me to bite back on others ‘cause I look like I should.”
There’s a furrow in his brows, and he’s tightly clutching on the strap of his bag. “Like I’ve accepted that, sort of. I’m already conscious of it— but maybe people like to pick on me when it's obvious I’m not gonna do anything.”
You’re making another turn together, he’s leading with the path he’s familiar with and you follow, his words don’t falter. “Maybe ‘cause it makes them feel less small or some shit — I don’t know.”
After processing the words that left him, it brought you back to your conversation with Miwa. How you laughed about his past history with women and how you basically gossiped about his insecurities. Guilt swirls in your stomach, realizing this might just be a little worse than you treated it to be. You keep quiet, deep in your own thoughts, letting him say what he needs to.
“And of course my own brother is like that too.” He rants, tracing back to the behavior he displayed earlier. “He’s my brother and I love him, yes. But frat guys could be such dicks, y’know? I was like his first practice hazing dummy lite…in a way.”
You nod, acknowledging him. “Right, right.” You’re turning to the street ahead of yours, just about a block away now.
“It’s hard to not let those insecurities take over.” He groans, “I spent so much of my life trying to make my best first impressions, and I feel like it backfires on me with the wrong people—I hate that.” He’s scratching the back of his head. “Sometimes I just wish I looked normal. That way I wouldn’t literally feel like the elephant in the room.”
At that, you turn almost as if you’d heard the worst take in your life, brows scrunching. “Normal?”
He shakes his head, “Yes, normal. Like I can wear normal shoes and sit on couches normally.”
“I like that you’re not.” You say, insensitively. “I mean you’re not not normal. But I like…it.” You slow down, trying to backtrack on what you just let slip.
He’s blinking down on you, a look of surprise etched on his slowly flushing face. “…Why?”
Your breath is caught in your throat, not knowing how else to explain it. No going back. Remember?
“I feel safe, even if you don’t…bite back. And on top of that you’re kind. I think that matters a lot.”
Choso stares at you like you just grew a tree on your head, but in truth, he’s just trying to tone down his elation. “Really?” He asks dumbly, already cursing himself in his head for looking like he wants to hear you call him that again. Safe.
You dip your head, agreeing once more. “I’m a girl so I may be a little biased but if I were also a little taller, I wouldn’t have to deal with some idiot guys trying something on me, and I could also defend myself easier.”
“Oh yeah—Yes, that's totally different from my problems.” He clarified, trying to catch himself from sounding ungrateful. You watch the way his expressions shifts from blank to stressed and bite back a smile. “There’s obviously people with worse problems than being bigger than a doorway.” He’s looking down and pushing his glasses up, almost ashamed.
You turn to the road leading up to your street, your apartment just at the end of it. “Is that like 6’3 or…”
“Huh?” He meets your inquisitive eyes, “Uh, just a little more.” He replied, shying away from your stare. You’re thinking about all the objects that could possibly match up to Choso’s figure.
“Those chillers they got in 7’11?”
“Hm, nope. Like 2 inches more, maybe.”
Your stomach does a flip you had to ignore, “You’re lying. Six foot six?”
“Without shoes, yes.” He nodded, met with you side-eyeing him. “Well you’re free to go with me to my annual checkups and see.” He defends, a smile finally appearing on his face at your skepticism.
You squint, stopping yourself from looking too excited with the many, unbecoming thoughts storming your brain. “I’ll hold onto that.”
Shortly after, you find yourself standing in front of the building to your apartment. “I’m sorry about dumping all that on you, It was a lot.” He looks around before letting out a barely there sigh, “I’ll get going now—“
“Are you forgetting?” You look back and Choso’s standing stiffly, feet planted on the ground. “We’re…studying, remember?”
Choso’s throat bobs at your sly tone, convincing himself there is nothing behind it. “You did a lot today I just thought we were tired—“
“We don’t have to study then.” You’re looking around and thinking to yourself before landing back on his face, “I mean you came all the way here, you could come up and have some tea?”
The notion has his chest puffing out to regulate the way his heart started beating like its pounding from behind his sternum. He doesn’t say anything, his eyebrows raise behind his glasses, his usually sleepy eyes now wide. He nodded and let out a strained, “Okay.”
***
The door to your apartment swings open with a loud creak. The lights switch on, a warm white cascades from the ceilings.
Your keys make a clinking noise against the ceramic jewelry tray you leave on the dresser by the entrance. The door is wide open, you feel Choso trailing behind a couple steps away.
He’s standing kinda stiffly, “Do I take my shoes off or—“
You’re shaking your head, stepping aside to let him in. “My neighbors are kinda sticklers for people who leave their shoes outside in the halls.” He walks past the doorway, head craned down. It’s supposed to look like he was trying to avoid getting hit by the frame of it, though he’s only finding a way to hide his face naturally.
He picked his head up when he heard clanking from the kitchen which meant that you were inside. “I hope you’re not allergic to pollen? I like to put honey in mine.” You ask, your voice still clear as the space isn’t big at all, but in his head it’s distant. He’s trying to calm himself down, taking in your apartment.
It’s small, kitchen tight and you’ve no space for a table. You use the counter as one, your bed, desk, and sofa all in the same space. However, the lack of furniture made it wide, the “living room” taking the least space with just a little coffee table and the tv on the floor as the only decor.
“You didn’t say anything so I didn’t add any honey.” He finds himself turning on his feet when he’s met by your figure, coming from the kitchen with two— red and yellow —mugs. You hand him the yellow one, he takes it with a ‘thanks’. You make a move to sit on the couch, trying to get cozy. Choso’s still standing, sipping on his cup awkwardly.
“You can sit if you want.” Choso’s eyes flick over to you. You realize he had shed his bag on the entrance, still it looks like something is weighing on him.
“I’m okay, I might launch you out of it—“
“Sit with me.” You pat the spot beside you on the couch, your fawn-like eyes up at him.
It turns his legs into jelly. Thoroughly convinced, he sits beside you, trying to be as careful as he can so the side of the couch doesn’t sink to his weight too much.
He winced at the audible sound of the springs under the cushions, “Sorry.”
Quietly, you assess him. How stiffly he sat, how much of the seat he took up despite keeping himself at the edge of it. If he sat back, would his knee brush against yours? Though you feel a little bad for taking advantage of his reactiveness towards you. However, something deep inside you is undeniably excited with the thought.
On the other hand, Choso feels like he’s watching himself act in third person, deliberating what part of his body he should move next to not look too obnoxious or stiff. He doesn’t know if he should just let the silence pass till he runs out of tea, or maybe till it turns lukewarm. You shift in your seat, he feels your gaze heavy on him. You don’t say anything, you just stare at the side of his face. His throat bobs.
He looks over to you for a split second and meets your eyes, you raise your brows at him, a smirk growing on your sweet face.
An anxious laugh bubbles from his throat, the tips of his ears tinging red. “I think you’re aware of how you’re making me nervous.”
You couldn’t stop the way the smirk spreads into a wide smile. “I was thinking of how to get you to talk, is all.” You tilt your head to the side, checking out how the light from your room lamp makes his jaw seem sharper. His hair nearly fell on his shoulders, built and perched with his elbows on his knees, posture a little hunched, but he still sat taller than you. Nothing short of tempting in your eyes.
He follows your gaze, “What?”
“You’re also thinking of something.”
His brows pinch, he hates how good you are at prodding at him when he clearly doesn’t know what to say. “I’m always thinking.”
You nod, “And still, you haven’t said anything since we went up.”
Choso pauses his already stiff self. You place your mug down, crossing your legs on the couch. He brings his attention back to you but you’re already intently looking at him. He flinches back.
Sighing, “What do you think I’m thinking about?” You purse your lips, shrugging at his question. He shakes his head, a smile fighting its way on his face.
“Then I’m happy you only brought me here to drink some tea.” A roll of his eyes comes out of sarcasm, reaching for his own mug on the table, stretching his arm out.
He’s about to pull his hand back when your smaller one lands on top of his. The contact would have made him drop the glass into little pieces if it weren’t for the coffee table underneath. He lets down the cup, missing the coaster you laid out.
“That’s my mug….” You point at the red cup in his grasp, yours. You let the words linger like the pads of your fingers on the back of his hand, “Hm, you’re really warm.”
He blinks, unable to ground himself back to reality because maybe, maybe you’re trying to make a move on him. He’s unable to look into your eyes,
“Uh,” He falters, the warmth on his cheeks multiply and spread out when you inch closer, the warmth of your own body makes him feel like he’s overheating.
“How else could I get you to go up with me?” You say, goading another reaction out of him.
“I-I mean you could just ask and…I wouldn’t say no,“ You’re closer to his face now—too close. But you’re still not looking at eye level — not close enough.
“I think I’ve done a lot just to be around you, Cho.” He almost melts at how the stupid nickname his brother calls him sounded so good coming from your honeyed lips. Choso gulps, audible and embarrassing in the silence of your apartment.
He started off this conversation on the edge of the couch, somehow it feels like you’ve backed him into it.
“Y’know, the TA stuff, asking to study—do we look like we’re studying now?” Your arm skates over his hand, up his arm, the touch leaving goosebumps in their wake.
You watch how his jaw all but clenches at the feeling, a newfound confidence makes you unbelievably giddy, driving you to push more. “But I wanna know for me,”
He feels like he’s running out of breath before he could utter a word when your palm lands up on his hard chest, feeling for the erratic thumping of his heartbeat underneath the fabric of his shirt.
Your head is craned up, lashes bat at him, “What are you willing to do?”
He’s looking deeply into your eyes, searching for the answer to your question, not realizing how his neck is craning down at your height in return. Several beats pass — he feels a tug on his shirt and then he’s closing the distance between your lips.
He whines on the soft, wet skin, sucking gently, eyes falling shut. His hand finds your cheek, the other reaching for your side when you tangle your arms around his neck. The pace is hungry yet fervent, tugging and melting against the other. You pull away slowly, lips parting from each other wetly. You’re smacking your own lips before smiling up at Choso, giggling.
His eyes are hazy, glasses crooked out of place. His hands are covering your back and smoothing over your clothes, “I can do anything— whatever you want.”
If you weren’t already grinning wide enough, now you’re fully Cheshire-like. Pushing yourself closer towards him, “Anything?” He nods eagerly, you’re pulling him in, hungry.
His hand is on the back of your neck now, holding. There’s something about his touch that feels like it’s keeping you together without feeling too possessive. Caring with a dash of hesitance. One you’re looking to break through tonight.
Your lips travel down his neck, leaving hot, lingering kisses along his throat. “Oh, mmh-“ He bites his lip immediately after nearly letting out the low noise from chest, eyes shutting when you find the particularly sensitive spot on his neck. You feel his fingers dig rougher on your hips, you’re on your knees now, determined to cover every inch of him in your touch. Your weight falls on him when he tugs you, the hands planted on his shoulders squeeze out of instinct.
“You good? I-I didn’t mean to, ah—“ He tried to move his head away from your persistent lips, but a shiver that runs through him stops his actions. You’re sucking on his skin, humming proudly, undettered from your little slip. His hands brush down your sides, they plant themselves lower on your waist.
You plant kisses all the way back to his chin then meet his lips again. You’re eye level, a sinister glint in your eyes. You stick your tongue out, half lidded gaze and staring right at him — brushing the wet, pink muscle along Choso’s bottom lip, teasing. Heat rushes on his face, blood rushes on his crotch. You’re killing him.
You suck on the pink flesh, tugging then letting go, he’s pulling you in closer by the back of your neck. He wants you on him, mind unable to decide how — just everywhere is fine. You drop your palm down between your bodies and on the garter of Choso’s sweats, feeling for the hardness underneath.
He hissed as your fingers brushed what would be his shaft, “Um, sorry, can we make out a little I think…” He holds your head closer to his face, breaths mingling as you catch them. “I’ll get less hard— nervous, I think. Sorry,” You hummed in agreement before landing back on the flushed skin of his mouth, quieting him down with your lips.
You giggle against him, chasing as he squirms, palms settling on his shoulders. You pull off him with a peck, feet planting back on the carpeted floors. Choso now sat far into the couch, slacked with legs spread. His mouth parts as you start undressing, stripping off into your underwear.
He sizes you up and down, taking in your soft, bare skin, your strapless bra and cotton panties under the warm lights of your apartment. It elicits a heavy throb under his pants. Choso’s breathing feels uneven and the air grows thinner when you settle back on the couch, only now between his spread out legs.
You’re steadying yourself, his hands find a place on your warm, now bare skin. You smooth over the wide expanse of his chest, then land on his neck, even warmer than you. “This okay?” You ask, to which he only replies with a nod.
You’re about to lean into him when he reaches for his glasses, but you stop him before he tries to pry the piece of metal off. “They stay on.”
His breath catches in his throat, stomach dipping. A part of him he’s not quite sure whether he wanted to acknowledge, liked when you tell him what to do.
He lets his hand fall, you adjust the rims on the bridge of his nose. “You’re so pretty.” You’re holding his face with both hands, tilting it upwards to you. A lopsided grin appears on his face at the comment, eyes shying away and down from your face and to the body on him.
“Thanks- Thank you,” He replied poorly. His palm skated from your waist and to your back, laying above the clip of your bra. His lips are caught between his teeth as he takes in the feel of your skin against him, he looks up. “You’re awfully pretty as well.”
He was never good at expressing himself,only with what he was sure of. But this was new, you pushing, him taking, it was all new. But he meant every word he said to you. He leaned in to catch your lips against his. Fuck, if only you could tell how much he meant it.
He’s slotting his tongue in between your parted mouth, leaning further in and you’re falling back, but he’s catching you — keeping you to him. You work together smoothly, as smooth as silks rubbing against each other. You clutch on to him tightly as if he’ll slip if you don’t. You taste like jasmine tea and he’s wondering if the sweet taste is from the honey or just you. He’s holding you by the neck and pushing your back into him.
You finally move to settle on his lap, the kiss unwavering so you’re first to pull away, “Choso—“ He catches the sound of his name in your mouth, chasing, taking, and taking. There isn’t any place on your body that isn’t covered by him, your arms, your back, your legs in between his that caged you. You moan at the thought against his greedy tongue, entirely consumed. But you’re impatient and already wet, the fabric of your panties has been riding up for the last 10 minutes. So you squeeze his arms weakly, but it’s enough for him to let air flow between you.
“Shit, Sorry—” He’s frantic and searching your eyes, but he’s met with your hazed out ones and your swollen, drooly lips. He wiped the corner of it, chest heaving. “I need to— you’re driving me insane,” He chuckles, deep and uncertain with how true the fact felt. He’s brushing your hair back gently, “I’m sorry,” he lets go of you as you’re pulling away.
You’re upright now, letting your feet back down. You’re bending over to his lap, palms resting on his spread out limbs, “You need to make it up to me,” You’re once again reaching for his sweats, the imprint of his shaft taking form at the side. He gently lays his hand on your wrist.
“Are you sure?” His eyes are wide, pupils dilated, the frames of his glasses are now on the tip of his nose bridge. But there’s a wave of genuine uncertainty blanketing his expression.
You’re blinking up at him, “Why wouldn’t I be?”
It’s a tangled knot in his chest, one bundled in embarrassing moments and unsuccessful hook-ups. He stuttered over his words,
“Just that before I’ve-“ he pondered if he should risk you laughing at him, but you’re expectantly looking into his eyes, and your hands are already on his lap, a little more and you’d be right where he’s aching for you. “I’m scared of making it…unpleasant?”
His hand rubs up and down your arms, you’re tuning him out and thinking of how you should go about sitting on him. He continued to ramble on, “Um, like I’ve been told it was…“
“Too big?” You ask, attention now on him. Externally you’re collected, stating it like a remark. But internally you know it’s a fact. You feel a little bad thinking about it but now you’re piecing together your earlier conversation on what Miwa’s friend’s friend might’ve been complaining about.
Choso all but nods, eyes scanning your room as if that would keep yours away from him. “I could just help you, y’know. We don’t have to—“
You’re turning over and maneuvering his hand out of his lap, sitting on his thigh. For a moment, you’re a little hesitant, hovering. “I mean I’d like it if we did, but I’m also…” His words trail off, holding your hip and securing you on his lap, unbothered as your weight settles on one thigh. He clears his throat, “I’m okay with, um, anything.”
You’re leaning into him, on your side, hand trailing underneath the hem of his shirt, grazing his clenched abdomen. He jolts, causing you to jump in your seat. Your eyes widen for a moment before relaxing, hand skating lower under the garter of his sweats with a simpering grin on your face. You’re kissing his cheek, gentle and slow as your hand palms over his hard, covered cock.
He’s watching your move under the fabric of his gray sweats, feeling your smaller fingers squeezing and rubbing the base of it. It hurts, he thinks. In a way that something stings and feels good at the same time. You’re squeezing at his tip when he throws his head back on the couch, groaning loudly. You take the opportunity to mouth on his neck again.
“Can you please— Can I please take it off?” He asks politely, but the grip on your hip feels anything but. You hum, still licking at the expanse of his neck.
You’re pulling his pants down with his help—mostly him just taking it off himself, desperate and aching. He’s bare from the waist down now when you settle back on his thigh, sweats and boxers discarded on the floor.
You’re now shamelessly gawking at his erection bouncing against stomach, slapping against it. The warmth of your hand catches him off guard, finally making contact skin to skin. You tug on the shaft, immediately taking notice of how your fingers struggle to close around it and were squeezing on accident.
“F—oh, god. ” He rests his head on your shoulder, sweat building on his forehead. You start moving your hand up and down, already slippery from how he’d been oozing in his boxers the entire time. He’s quiet behind you, save for the heavy breathing on your skin. You go faster. “Your hand’s so tight,” it comes out in a whimper. A wet, mouthing sensation can be felt on your shoulder, he’s biting your skin to muffle himself. But It doesn’t work, his throat lets loose with each reaction.
His eyes roll up from your shoulder when he feels you lean forwards and away from his chest, cock twitching when a wet glob of spit drips on him from your tongue.
You’re both watching your hand work up and down, bringing both onto the shaft, he’s cursing as you go faster.
You’re throwing your other leg over his thigh, straddling him in reverse, before resting back on him. Choso's hands come up to hold you under your knees, keeping your legs apart. He watched as the movement stretched the fabric, pussy still clad in underwear, drenched and barely covering it. But he can’t help but peek lower, your hands exclusively paying attention to his erection.
You joke, “It’s like I'm jerking myself off.”
A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest, the vibrations thrum against your back and you turn them into moans as you suddenly go faster. “Sucks though, I can’t feel it.”
You’re unable to see his expression behind you, but you can hear how his moans are muffled between his teeth, “You’re s-so eager.”
You reveled at how shaky he’d sounded. “One of us has to be.”
And then a strange noise akin to the tearing of fibers can be heard from below. You gasp as it happens in front of you, hands slowing its ministrations. You realize you’re watching him rip your underwear, exposing your wet, shiny pussy. “Hey—“
He’s adjusting himself from under you, bringing his other hand under your thigh, your legs tugged higher as he starts rubbing right on your clit.
He’s rough and accurate on where he wants to touch you, deliberate in his movements. He’s quick but he isn’t rushing either, his only motive was to get you to falter in his stead as you were doing just the same.
Your voice shrinks into breathy pants, the slick sound from your poor clit syncing in with each, “Ah, ah, Cho—“
“You’re making me so, so hard, baby—” You’re both an obscene sight to behold, playing with each other, spread out, grunting or whimpering. Both sloppily still trying to let your lips tangle with each other despite the inconvenient position. Both a mess, your tits spilling out of your bra, and his glasses all fogged up.
You grind into him, “Feels so good,” rubbing your juices on the cock you’re jerking with now one hand, coating his chubby length. Your body felt like it was on overdrive, moving your hips up and down as you clenched on nothing, gushing freely.
You’re biting your lip as your hips grow erratic, brows pinching and your abdomen clenches on itself. “I-I’m close.”
Choso lets a groan escape,“Fuck, really?” realizing he’s making you come first. It’s a miracle he’s held off this long, he wonders if he’ll hold up if you let him inside. The thought makes him move your hips on his cock, assisting you as you use him to get yourself off.
He doesn’t know if he’s breathing so hard because he’s getting tired or because he knows getting your clit rubbed nudges you a little closer to the edge when you start to get louder. He breathes against your ear, “Come on me, please.” He’s mumbling now, less at you and more to himself. “I wanna see you cum on me, please, please—”
Your legs begin to shake in his hold, fighting to shut close but the grip under your knees forces you to come with your legs spread wide, pussy making a show of spasming against Choso’s cock, voice breaking as you whimper. “That’s it baby, that’s it,”
Choso is completely enamored, the sounds of your high pitched whines in the air was like music to him, the way you writhe against his body was this entrapping dance. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you.
He notes how you were still in your bra, he whispers something about it, but you’re just nodding your head with your eyes shut, riding it out. Then he’s unclipping the strap with one hand, the fabric falling off and releasing your perfect tits.
You then relax your back to him, twitching still. But then he’s thrusting his erect cock up between your folds, the stimulation starting to make you wetter again, your breath can only catch up so fast. You’re attempting to lift your hips with a squirm.”Gi-give me a sec—”
Choso quickly lets your legs fall to the side and pauses, sitting up and moving your head to face him. “Shit- we can stop here,” he assured, breathy and worried. “I didn’t mean to, I was just looking at you. You looked-” So fucked out, “I’m sorry.“
“Sh-shut up,” You look away and Choso stiffens under you. Was he too rough? Before he could even utter another apology, you spoke, “I’m fine, I just need to— breathe.“
He watches you quiet down from underneath you, he’s rubbing your thighs comfortingly. “I am sorry,” The silence lingers, only getting tenser with each beat that passes.
And then you start chuckling — at nothing in particular. Your breathing slows down, and you look back to check on him. He looked so worried, brows pinched and his lip jutted out. A lazy smile breaks into your features, leaning down to catch him in a chaste kiss so he wouldn't see the expression on your face. “I liked it, okay?”
His breath hitched in his throat when you spoke against his lips, “Yeah?”
You’re nodding, smile now exposed. You kiss him again, powerless against his sweet lips. He relaxes, hand coming up to the back of your head. “I wanna-“ A kiss, “Fuck you now,” A slower kiss, “Please.”
He’s backing up to read your face, reassessing. Within the silence, something passes between you two. Amidst the air that smells of sex and vaguely of tea, there’s this mix of warmth and uncertainty—and whether or not to dive in it — that lingers in between.
He’s nervous under your gaze, once again, looking for a way out of your eyes that traps him so effectively like no other. He’s looking down at his still, very much, erect self. “I don’t have a condom.”
You’re thinking to yourself before you reach for the side table of your couch, scrambling for a box you kept there in case.
Choso’s scrambling to rip the plastic off before fishing for one packet. “I’m not really sure if it would fit so, maybe just try it,” You remark as you’re being maneuvered out of his lap and on the side of the couch. He fumbled with the rubber a couple times, pulling it down before it snapped a little too tightly on his girth. He tugs it down on him until a tear starts spreading on the side of the translucent material.
“I’m sor—“ He hissed as it snapped against his skin, “See I can’t even fucking…I don’t think this is quite right—” He’s cursing to himself, obviously a little sexually frustrated. For someone his size he still managed to look somewhat like a defeated puppy.
You’re tugging the broken thing off, relief blooming in his chest but it’s short lived as he’s reminded of how he might not even have sex with you anymore. “But no, we really don’t have to.” He says, discouraged.
“You can fuck me raw, I’m on the pill.” He internally groaned, pulled back out of his head. You just had a way with your words.
He does a complete 180, eyes widening, shifting from beaten to optimistic. He reminds himself to curb his excitement though, slowing down. “You can be on top—set the pace?” You’re already moving to sit on his lap.
He’s nodding his head at you, and finally rips his shirt off himself, now completely naked. You’re staring down at him, licking your lips at the sight of his milky skin and toned chest. He pulls you out of your thoughts, voice small and distant.
“I’ll pull out, yeah?” He’s swallowed back thickly, more of reminding himself to do that. “Just be slow okay? I didn’t prepare you that wel—um,"
His voice trails off when you’re already lining yourself up with his reddened tip. “A little at a time—Oh,” You’re already sinking down, unrepressed.
The stretch is long and constant, to the point it feels like you’re rethinking how fast you jumped on this, except you remember you’re already lowering yourself very carefully.
Your jaw hangs open in a silent scream when you get past the head, sinking lower, your walls throb against his member. You’re bracing yourself with a palm, Choso’s chest is covered in sweat and heaving. “You’re so—‘s really tight, oh fuck you’re so warm,” He whined out, unable to complete a sentence.
He’s leaving a trail of hot, open mouthed kisses on your neck and then back on your lips to keep your mewls at bay. You’re kissing back, he’s only half way in when you start moving. Choso’s breaths turn ragged against yours, pulling you closer to him. You catch your breath, “It’s stretching me out so much, Choo-” You whine, slowly rolling your hips.
He’s squeezing your waist before trailing his hands down your ass, “You’re doing good, you’re doing really good.”
He’s looking down at your progress, struggling to tell where you ended and he begun, now nearer to the base of his cock. He throbs inside you. “Fuck, a-are you okay?” He’s looking back up at your face, taking in your lips, bitten and swollen under your teeth.
He lets out a shaky whimper, “You’re taking so much.” His eyes finding their way back to your hole swallowing him. “So good, baby.”
You tuck your feet over his thighs for leverage, pulling off his cock slowly then sinking back down, and back up. You repeat the motions, torturously slow, your slick creating this lewd noise from each rock of your hips as you go deeper. Choso’s hands are on your thighs, weighing you down but he’s really holding back from actively pushing — still you’re sinking, taking more.
You start to bounce, struggling to hold yourself up with your palm on his chest, the slight sting of the stretch dulling out to a deep pressure. It’s a lot easier now, you go even faster with the help of your growing arousal slicking up his cock. Every touch you leave on each other now feels highly sensitive, your tits pressed against Choso’s hard chest, his hands squeezing on your ass for dear life. You’re left unable to keep up conversations or teases to each other now, heads completely in a different space. You're left babbling incoherencies as your tingling nerves derail your focus, the only thing clear was to go after what felt good.
But you falter, your knees slowing as they start to ache but you push yourself further, desperate, taking even more of Choso’s length. You find yourself losing balance and lean over, panting. You lift your hips, then let your ass fall back into his lap, a strained mewl leaving your throat, “I-I need help. I need you, Cho—need you t’a fuck my pussy,”
He groans out at how high your voice got, fresh from its suppressed whines. “Okay I’ll help,” He’s quick with his hands, holding you by the globes of your ass, and pulls you up. He bites back a noise, hearing and feeling your tight pussy gush and clamp on him as he lifts until it’s just the tip. “s’ okay if I thrust a little?” He whispers against your ear, growing desperate as his cock pulses in anticipation. You nod fervently in his neck, arms circled around him. “Okay baby, I’m gonna. I’m gonna help this pussy- fuckkk”
It’s noisier now, from your skin, sticky and slapping against each other, to your gasps turning into moans against each other’s open mouths. Choso’s now taking all the work, lifting your ass and bringing it down to meet his aching cock even faster than you could have. He starts meeting your pussy half way, thrusting up wards and it knocks the wind out of you.
Moans spill out of you with each thrust up, breaking and then bursting out of you. You’re clinging to him, bodies impossibly close, skin rubbed up against skin. “You’re so fucking loud, honey—do you like it?” His groans turn into grunts with how he’s physically exerting his body, on a mission to see you break apart on top of him.
You reply with a noise of acknowledgment, barely audible amongst the slapping and heavy breathing. You’re body feels hot all over, from inside and out. He’s deep enough inside you in places you didn’t even know was possible to go that far in, and the best worst part is you haven’t even reached the base of him yet. A new objective makes itself known in the part of your brain that still functioned, a dimly flickering idea.
“Ch-choso can you, ngh—“ You’re bringing your face out of his neck to face him, but he’s still busying himself with his thrusts, “I want you deeper, c-could you do that f’me?”
He’s letting out a high pitched whine he when lets you down, about to throw his head back when you catch his lips in yours, tugging on his hair and pulling roughly. “You’re stronger than me Cho, c’mon. Make me cum on your big cock—“
He groans, planting his feet on the ground, before you know it you’re up in the air, now standing. You cut yourself off with a moan, both of you do —sighing out when he lifts your ass up before dropping you on his painfully hard cock. “You’re so filthy when you talk, y’know that?”
It feels like he's all the way to your lungs when he finally bottoms out in you, which would make sense since it feels like you aren’t breathing anymore. You cry out once more, wiling your eyes and muffling the noises in his neck, biting down. “Are you crying?” He asks, concern prodding between his excitement, but the thought manages to make it’s way to his cock, fucking you on him rhytmically slow and deep. You let out a choked sob, “Fuck you’re crying—not even going that fast.”
“Then g-go faster,” You managed to voice out between moans, your hips wiggling in his grasp. He groans in response, kneading your ass to stop you from getting ahead of him.
“You tell me if it’s too much- just, you have to tell me a-alright?” You’re clenching on him, still trying to bounce. “Shit, Okay.”
The slower sounds of your skin slapping each other turn into rapid, sharp sounds. Choso grunting from each thrust, now fully unrepressed. In seconds, the image you’ve crafted of him as this shy, hesitant boy, crumbles. You’re fully moaning out now, his cock nudging deeper and repeatedly in that spot that triggers your insides. “I’m so full, fuck-“
He’s hiccuping his moans out, turning into whimpers as he pumps you up and down even faster, his nails digging into the meat of your ass. “You’re taking me so good baby,” He’s thrusting up when he lets you fall on his cock midway, his muscles forgetting to strain. “Fuck, take it, take it—“
He dives in against your lips, tongue invading your whimpering mouth. You try your best to kiss back, eyes nearly closing while he’s drowning you in him. You’re clenching on his cock a lot tighter now, his balls drenched in your arousal, slapping against your other hole from the impact of his motions.
“I think I—I’m gonna cum-“ You pull away from Choso who lets out a breathy moan, licking your lips to chase yours. You’re falling limp against him, hips rendered useless when he’s already fucking you on a pace outside of your own stamina.
Your insides are pulsing around his member, your moans growing even louder. Choso’s deep enough into you when he feels his cock twitch, “I need to pull out—“ You’re immediately protesting, letting out noises of disapproval. “No, no baby I’m gonna cum if you—“
“I don’t care.“ Fuck. Choso holds himself back, his pre-cum oozing out makes your sopping hole even more slippery at the thought of filling you up to the brim. He’s thinking of ways to keep himself from cumming right this very second when you’re already so fucked out and desperate, high up in your own head.
His dick twitches again and he’s biting his lip, slowing his carry on your body til you’re stopping altogether. Before you could say anything else, he’s pulling out and placing you on the couch, lying down. You’re complaining, spreading your legs as much as the cushions on your side could let you.
Choso’s holding his cock, squeezing at the base to calm himself down but he opens his eyes to your gaping, hungry hole, presented to him like an offer, “C-cum inside me, Cho,”
His resolve breaks within a blink of an eye, already laying above you and wrapping your legs around his waist. You feel like crying out of joy when he finally makes his way inside, thrusting slowly and hissing from how tight you still are. “I need to be on top of you, I need to—“ He mumbled, eyes already hazed out and clambering for satiation.
He topples over you as he finds his balance, now setting a newer pace from earlier, caging you with his body while his thrusts grow even faster.
The sensation is much more different now, a stretch added with the forces of his thrusts now fully landing on you.
He’s watching every twist of your face and moan spill out. Scanning your body downwards while he lays a palm on your lower abdomen, “If I cum inside you’re gonna bulge right h-here, d’ ya want that?”
You’re squealing against him when he presses down, his cock nudging where he’s digging his fingers from the outside. Your walls flutter against his member, sucking him in and pulsing wetly. Choso’s grunting against you, hips growing faster as he watches your eyes get even more hazy and your face twisted.
Your eyes are rolling back when he starts rubbing on your clit, already impatient with wanting to feel your pussy tighten impossibly around him.
He’s whispering incoherencies to you, face on your neck when he pulls back his hips and pushes back in deeply as he continues rubbing you.
You cry out, shuddering against Choso as the coil in you snaps, holding onto his wrist as your legs secured against his ribs.
He lets out a shaky moan, pumping faster when he chases his orgasm while you ride yours out on him, bodies grinding up against each other intimately.
A curse lets you know that he’s finally reached his climax, thrusts growing slow and deep while pumping you full of his sticky cum. Your eyes are glossed over, your throat sore from your own voice when he’s riding out his high, panting and leaving kisses all over your face.
Your chests are pumping against each other, both catching your breaths. Your hand finds its way to his face, turning it so he could look back at you. His cheeks are red and his glasses were no longer on him, probably losing them from how much you’d been switching positions.
You’re brushing his hair from his face, tucking a long strand onto his ear. Your body still feels like it’s on fire but it doesn’t compare to how even after all that, his stare on you still makes your heart skip a beat. You let out a breath, gathering yourself.
“What do you think?” His eyes scans over your face, “Better than coming up to study?”
Choso shifts on his elbows as he’s laying on top of you.“Yeah that was…” He takes a moment to think of a better way to describe it, a smile spreading on his face. “Really good.” He settles with honesty instead.
He’s thumbing over your shoulder, a hundred thoughts trying to materialize themselves in his still mushed up brain. “I’ve never done it like that, before I mean.“
He’s looking up to meet your eyes, and you’ve got a glow emitting from you, drawing him in. He hesitates for a moment but then, “And you? How’d you feel?”
You huff out a soft chuckle, realizing how ironic this all was. How you’ve still managed to not destroy the awkwardness that came with affections even when you’ve skipped over to, well sex. Choso waits for your answer, something swirls tight in his chest, uneasy but still patient.
You’re brushing back the hair on his scalp, taking in how much less guarded he looks without glasses. “Yeah, I feel…safe.”
He smiles, that knot in his chest untangling. To no surprise, he finds the thread it’s bundled from may be connected to you. “Yeah?”
banger idea for the desi readers: the classical dance school you go to uses one of the schools as their practice grounds as the same time as the volleyball club. Now imagine you're dancing with your friends and prepping for concerts/festival performances in the same area as the volleyball squad practice and the man of your dreams is doing his absolute best not to be caught staring at your performance hehehe
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