green flag, babes

At first, he would be distant and quiet, unsure how to express himself. Over time, though, he would become the kind of silent love that speaks louder than words.

He is the type to show affection through actions:

saving a seat

lending perfectly written notes

staying up late just to help with studying

Deep down, he would see his partner as both his greatest weakness and his greatest strength.

If someone dared to mess with the person he cares about, he would immediately switch into strategic mode, calculating the perfect way to protect them.

Public displays of affection are not his style, but in private he would let his guard down — subtle smiles, lingering looks, and quiet moments that say more than words.

He would appear with tea and medicine if someone is unwell, acting as though it was obvious, even if he had just looked it up.

Soft laughs would escape him at silly jokes, no matter how hard he tried to hide them.

His cheeks would turn red when holding hands, but he would never let go.

He would leave his jacket behind on purpose, just so it could be worn and carried around.

And although he may never say it directly, every genuine laugh or smile would reveal the truth: trust and affection deeper than anyone else could reach.

That soft smile… he deserves the whole world 💚✨

👉 More Anime>>

Deku’s smile = instant serotonin boost 🌿

Who else loves Deku? 💚

(Choso X reader)

You feel his presence before you see him. Heavy, silent. Choso’s watching from the shadows, eyes locked on you.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you whisper, heart racing.

He steps closer, slow and deliberate. “Yet here I am.”

You back up, but he follows, his cold hand brushing your cheek. “Scared?”

“No…” you lie.

He smirks, dark and knowing. “You should be.”

His gaze pierces you, a mix of desire and danger. He leans in, breath cool against your skin. “I could break you, you know?”

You shiver, torn between fleeing and surrendering. “Then do it.”

Choso grabs you suddenly, lips crashing into yours in a rough, almost painful kiss. You’re lost in it, aware you’re playing with fire.

You thought he’d vanish like always. But he returns.

That night, alone, lights dimmed, window cracked open. You hear the floor creak. You don’t turn. You know it’s him.

Choso enters silently. The air feels colder, or maybe it’s just your nerves.

“You’re not sleeping,” he murmurs behind you.

“Neither are you.”

Silence. He approaches. You feel his warmth at your back, his breath on your neck.

“Let me stay tonight?”

You close your eyes. Not a question, but a boundary he lets you cross.

“You can stay… but not like a shadow this time.”

He places his hands on your hips, turning you to face him. Faces inches apart.

His eyes search yours. No tenderness, no games. Just raw intensity.

“If I kiss you now… you won’t run?”

You breathe heavily. “Try me.”

When his lips meet yours, it’s not gentle. It’s fire held back too long. You match his force, both of you fueled by something darker, deeper.

Your nails dig into his shoulders. He breathes against your neck, voice low and rough.

“You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“Maybe. But I’m already in.”

He looks into your eyes, searching for doubt. There’s none.

Then he snaps. Presses you harder against the wall, breath hot on your skin. His hands explore slowly, deliberately. He wants you to feel every second.

“I’m not soft,” he growls.

“I didn’t ask for soft.”

His jaw tightens, eyes darkening.

“Then I won’t stop.”

And he doesn’t.

His lips crash into yours—no mercy, no holding back. It’s wild. Raw. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer.

He pulls back briefly, voice rough:

“You’ll regret wanting me.”

You smirk, lips swollen.

“Then make me.”

You feel his gaze burning into your skin, but he says nothing. He's distanced himself, seated in a corner of the room, silent and tense. You know Choso is grappling with something. It's not just desire; it's darker. More dangerous.

You rise slowly, crossing the room barefoot. You stop just before him.

"Thinking of running?" you whisper.

He finally lifts his eyes. His pupils seem darker than usual. "I'm thinking about what I might do if I lose control."

A shiver runs down your spine—not from fear... from anticipation. "What if I told you I'm not afraid?"

He stands abruptly, his presence imposing. He grabs your wrist—not roughly, but with a firmness that sends every nerve in your body into overdrive. "You have no idea what you're saying..."

"Then show me," you whisper.

He pauses. A bitter laugh escapes his lips. "You're playing a game you'll only understand once you've already lost."

Yet, he releases you. Steps back. Not out of kindness. Out of discipline. Just enough to prevent an explosion.

You stare at him, mouth dry, heart pounding. And in that electric silence, you both know: this is just the beginning.

You're pressed against the wall, his breath hot against your skin. Choso’s eyes are dark, intense.

"You sure you want this?" he murmurs, voice low.

You nod, heart pounding. "Yeah."

He smirks, leaning in closer. "Then don't hold back."

His lips crash into yours, rough and demanding. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. He lifts you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed.

Clothes are discarded hastily, the room filled with heavy breaths and whispered curses. His touch is firm, exploring every inch of you.

"You feel so good," he groans, pressing his forehead against yours.

You gasp, nails digging into his back. "Don't stop."

He moves with purpose, each thrust deeper than the last. The world fades away, leaving only the two of you tangled in sheets and desire.

Afterwards, he pulls you close, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

"You're mine now," he whispers.