#bimbo reader

Mike Wheeler x bimbo!Henderson!reader Warnings : MDNI ! 18+ , p in v, unprotected sex, crampie, mild degradation (use of terms like "stupid girl" and "bimbo"), semi-public risk

The digital clock on your bedside table read 11:47pm. The red numbers glowed ominously in the otherwise pitch-black room, taunting you. He was late.

You sighed, loudly, dramatically, throwing your head back against a mountain of pastel-colored pillows. The movement caused a cascade of meticulously teased, crimped blonde hair to fan out around you like a halo. You blew a stray strand out of your face, the scent of strawberry chewing gum and excessive amounts of Aqua Net hairspray filling your nose.

Your room was a sanctuary dedicated to the cult of late-80s teenage girlhood. It was an explosion of pink, lace, and tiger-beat magazine cutouts taped to every available surface. It smelled like Debbie Gibson’s ‘Electric Youth’ perfume and contraband clove cigarettes you sometimes stole from Steve Harrington’s car.

It was, unapologetically, the room of a "bimbo."

That’s what people called you, anyway. You knew they did. You heard the whispers in the halls of Hawkins High. They saw the frosted pink lipstick, the acid-washed mini-skirts, the way you twirled your hair when you didn't want to answer a hard question in Mr. Clarke’s class. They saw you as the polar opposite of your twin brother, Dustin.

Dustin, with his nerdy t-shirts, his obsession with D&D, and his teeth that were still figuring themselves out. You loved him, he was literally the other half of your DNA, but God, you two couldn't be more different. He was brains and dorky charm while you were aesthetics and vibes.

And nobody, absolutely nobody, could ever know that the Queen of the Airheads was secretly hooking up with the Dungeon Master himself, Mike Wheeler.

The thought made you giggle. It was absurd. It was a scandal waiting to happen. If Dustin found out, his head would literally explode. Like, Scanners style.

You shifted on the bed, smoothing down the silk robe you’d stolen from your mother’s closet. You’d spent the last hour preparing. Shaving your legs until they were dolphin-smooth, applying a fresh coat of ‘Bubblegum Pop’ nail polish, and meticulously arranging your lingerie under the robe so it looked effortlessly sexy when he arrived.

You checked the window again. You’d unlatched it an hour ago, sliding it up just an inch so he could get his fingers under it.

Suddenly, there was a thud against the siding of the house.

You sat bolt upright, heart hammering against your ribs. A scrabbling sound followed, like a raccoon trying to climb a drainpipe. Then, fingers appeared under the sash, pushing the window up with a groan of protest from the old wood.

A gangly leg clad in dark denim swung over the sill, followed by the rest of Mike Wheeler, who tumbled onto your plush cream carpet with the grace of a newborn giraffe.

He landed in a heap, knocking over a stack of fashion magazines.

"Shhh!" you hissed, leaping off the bed. You slammed the window shut and locked it, then whirled on him, hands on your hips. "Mike! You’re going to wake up the whole house. Do you want Dustin to come in here with a baseball bat?"

Mike scrambled to his feet, dusting off his knees. He looked flustered, his dark hair a messy mop from the wind outside, his cheeks flushed pink. He was wearing that same old beige jacket and a striped polo, looking utterly out of place surrounded by your stuffed animals and lace curtains.

"Sorry," he whispered intensely, his eyes wide. "The trellis is slippery."

He looked around the room nervously, as if expecting Dustin to pop out of your closet shouting ‘Aha!’

"Relax," you murmured, stepping into his space. The anger melted away instantly. He was here. He made it. "Dustin’s snoring like a chainsaw. I checked."

Mike’s eyes finally landed on you, and his nervous energy seemed to hit a brick wall. His gaze raked over you, taking in the silk robe, the perfectly styled hair, the glossy lips. He swallowed hard.

You saw that look in his eyes, that mixture of confusion, awe, and absolute desperation that you lived for. It was the look that said, I don't understand your world at all, but I want to drown in it.

"Hi," he breathed out, his voice cracking slightly.

"Hi yourself, loser," you teased, reaching out and hooking a finger into the belt loop of his jeans, tugging him forward.

He stumbled into you, his hands automatically going to your waist. He smelled like the outdoors, cheap deodorant, and that underlying scent of anxiety that seemed to follow him everywhere these days. It was intoxicating.

"God, you smell like a strawberry patch," he mumbled, burying his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. "It’s ridiculous."

"It’s expensive," you corrected, tilting your head back to give him better access. "And you love it."

"Yeah," he admitted against your skin, his lips grazing your pulse point. "Yeah, I really do."

He pulled back just enough to look at your face. He always looked so intense, like everything was life or death. You supposed, for him, a lot of things were. But that’s why you worked. You were his break from reality. You were soft places and mindless pop music and things that didn’t involve alternate dimensions.

"You’re late," you pouted, sticking out your bottom lip. The lip gloss glistened in the moonlight.

Mike's eyes zeroed in on your mouth. "I had to wait for Nancy to get off the phone. Then my mom was prowling around the kitchen..."

"Excuses, excuses, Mikey." You tapped a manicured nail against his chest. "You're lucky I waited up. I was about to get my beauty sleep."

"You don't need it," he said quickly, earnestly. It was adorable how bad he was at flirting, how totally sincere his compliments were.

"Flattery will get you everywhere," you smirked.

You closed the distance, pressing your lips to his.

Kissing Mike was always an event. He kissed like he was afraid you were going to disappear if he stopped. It was hungry and a little clumsy, his teeth sometimes clicking against yours, but the sheer enthusiasm made up for the lack of finesse.

He groaned low in his throat, his arms tightening around your waist, pulling you until there was zero space left between you. You could feel the hard line of his hip bones, the rapid thud of his heart against your chest.

You threaded your fingers through the thick hair at the nape of his neck, messing up his attempt at styling it. He tasted like mint toothpaste and soda.

"Come on," you whispered against his lips, pulling away reluctantly. "Not here. The floor is uncomfortable."

You led him by the hand toward your bed. It was a massive, fluffy confection covered in at least ten decorative pillows that you had to shove onto the floor to make room.

Mike sat on the edge of the mattress, looking strangely small surrounded by so much pink. He kicked off his sneakers, his eyes never leaving you as you stood between his knees.

You loved the power dynamic shift that happened in this room. Outside, Mike was the leader, the strategist, the one calling the shots. In here, he was just a boy obsessed with a girl way out of his league, totally at your mercy.

Your hands went to the sash of your silk robe. Mike’s breath hitched.

You untied it slowly, maintaining eye contact, letting the silk pool at your feet.

You’d chosen a matching baby-blue lace bra and panty set that you’d shoplifted from the mall three towns over so nobody would recognize you. It pushed your boobs up perfectly and made your waist look tiny.

Mike’s mouth actually fell open slightly. His eyes grew impossibly wide, darting over your body like he was trying to memorize a complex map.

"Holy shit, Y/N," he whispered, almost reverently.

You did a little spin, posing with your hands behind your head, fluffing your hair. "Like what you see, Mikey?"

"You have no idea," he choked out. His hands reached out, gripping your hips, pulling you forward until your thighs were pressed against the denim of his jeans. "You’re... God, you’re just so much."

"Is that a complaint?" you teased, running your hands down his chest, feeling the frantic rhythm of his heart through his thin polo shirt.

"Never," he swore. His hands slid up your sides, his thumbs tracing the bottom edge of your lace bra. His touch was shaky, hesitant, as if he was afraid he might break you. "You’re perfect. You look like one of those models in Nancy’s magazines, but... better. Real."

He buried his face in your stomach, his hot breath ghosting over your skin through the lace. "I hate that I can’t tell anyone," he muffled against you. "I want to show you off. It sucks."

Your heart softened. You knew the secrecy ate at him. Mike Wheeler wore his heart on his sleeve, and having to hide the biggest thing in his life was torture.

"I know, baby," you soothed, threading your fingers through his dark hair. "But think about Dustin’s face. He’d have a literal aneurysm."

Mike let out a short, sharp laugh against your skin. "He'd kill me. Literally. He'd find a way using science."

"Exactly. So this..." You tilted his chin up so he had to look at you. "This is just for us. Our little secret world."

The intensity returned to his gaze, burning hotter than before. "Our world," he repeated.

He stood up suddenly, towering over you. The hesitation was gone, replaced by that frantic need that always seemed to simmer just beneath his surface.

He grabbed the hem of his shirt and yanked it over his head, tossing it somewhere into the pile of pillows on the floor. He was skinny, all ribs and sharp angles, but there was a wiry strength to him that you loved.

He pushed you gently backward onto the bed. You sank into the duvet, your hair fanning out around you. Mike crawled over you, bracing his weight on his forearms on either side of your head, caging you in.

He stared down at you, his expression deadly serious. "Tell me I'm your favorite," he demanded, his voice low and rough.

It was his thing. He needed reassurance. He needed to know he was winning against the imaginary competition he’d convinced himself you had.

You smiled up at him, tracing the line of his jaw with a perfectly manicured finger. "You’re my absolute favorite nerd, Mike."

"Not good enough," he growled, leaning down to nip at your jawline.

"You're my favorite," you whispered, turning your head to give him better access to your neck. "My only one."

He sucked a mark right over your pulse point, hard enough that you knew it would bruise. You’d have to cover it with heavy concealer tomorrow and wear your hair down, but you didn't care. It was a brand.

His hands moved down to the clasp of your bra, fumbling with it impatiently.

"Ugh, these things are impossibly stupid," he muttered, frustrated.

You giggled. "Here, let the expert handle it." You reached behind your back and unhooked it in one smooth motion.

Mike peeled the lace away, tossing it aside. He stared at your bare chest for a long moment, his breathing heavy, before lowering his head to worship you.

He wasn't smooth. He wasn't experienced. But the sheer amount of devotion he put into every touch, every kiss, made up for everything. He treated your body like a shrine he was terrified of defiling but desperate to pray at.

He kissed his way down your ribs, his tongue tracing the indent of your waist. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your legs.

When he finally settled between your thighs, still fully clothed in his jeans, the friction was electric.

"Mike," you gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders. "Your jeans. Off. Now."

He scrambled back, practically falling off the bed in his haste to toe off his sneakers and shove his jeans down. He kicked them away, leaving him in just his boxers, breathing hard.

He crawled back up the bed, positioning himself between your legs again. The heat coming off him was immense.

He braced himself above you, his eyes searching yours. There was a vulnerability there, a silent question he always asked before the final step.

"Please, Y/N," he whispered, his voice raw. "I need you."

You reached down, wrapping your hand around him through his boxers. He hissed, his hips bucking involuntarily against your hand.

"You have me, Mike," you assured him. "Take me."

He pulled his boxers down and guided himself to your entrance. He paused at the threshold, the tip pushing against your slick heat.

"Look at me," he said, his voice strained.

You opened your eyes, locking your gaze with his.

He pushed inside slowly, inch by agonizing inch. You let out a shaky exhale, your head falling back into the pillows as the feeling of being filled stretched you. He was bigger than people would guess looking at his lanky frame, and it always took a moment to adjust.

Mike groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he buried himself completely to the hilt. He held still for a moment, just breathing, letting the sensation wash over him.

"You feel incredible," he ground out, his jaw clenched tight. "So tight. So unbelievably hot."

He began to move. At first, it was slow, deep strokes that made your toes curl. He was careful, always careful, making sure you were okay.

But the care quickly gave way to that familiar desperation. The pace quickened. His thrusts became harder, snapping his hips against yours with a bruising rhythm. The bedsprings squeaked rhythmically, a dangerous soundtrack to your secret.

"Mike—wait, shhh," you gasped, trying to quiet your own moans as the pleasure started to coil tight in your belly. "Dustin..."

"Forget Dustin," Mike panted, his sweat dripping onto your chest. He grabbed your wrists, pinning them to the mattress above your head, taking control. "Think about me. Only me."

He drove into you harder, hitting that spot deep inside that made your vision spotty. You couldn't help the high, breathy keens that escaped your throat.

Mike leaned down, swallowing your sounds with a searing kiss. His tongue warred with yours, mirroring the frantic rhythm of his hips below. It was messy and hot and overwhelming.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, needing more friction. Your nails dug into his back, leaving little crescent moon marks on his skin.

"You’re so beautiful," he murmured against your lips, between frantic kisses. "You’re so beautiful it hurts my head. My beautiful, stupid girl."

He didn't mean it as an insult. You knew that. It was his way of grappling with how much he loved the parts of you that made no logical sense to him, the makeup, the hair, the vapid magazines. He loved it because it was yours.

The tension in your body wound tighter and tighter. The friction, the heat of his body, the scent of his sweat and your perfume mixing together, it was too much.

"Mike, I'm gonna—"

"Do it," he urged, letting go of your wrists to slide his hand down between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and grinding against it in time with his thrusts. "Come for me, Y/N."

That was it. The added stimulation sent you over the edge. You cried out, your back arching off the bed as the orgasm ripped through you, sharp and blinding. Your inner muscles clamped down around him violently.

The sensation was too much for Mike. With a guttural groan that he barely managed to muffle against your neck, he slammed into you one, two, three more times, his body going rigid as he spilled himself inside you.

He collapsed on top of you, dead weight, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His breathing was harsh and ragged, hot against your damp skin.

You lay there for a long time, just breathing together in the aftermath, the only sounds in the room the whirring of your bedside fan and the distant chirp of crickets outside.

Your perfect hair was a disaster, glued to your forehead with sweat. Your lip gloss was definitely smeared all over Mike's face. The room smelled like sex and strawberries.

Slowly, Mike lifted his head. He looked utterly wrecked, sleepy and satisfied, with lipstick smeared across his cheek. It was your favorite look on him.

He smiled, a lazy, genuinely happy smile that rarely made an appearance outside of this room.

"Hi," he whispered again, echoing his earlier greeting.

You giggled weakly, reaching up to wipe a smudge of pink off his chin. "Hi, yourself. You made a mess of me, Wheeler."

He looked down at your body, taking in the dishevelled state of your perfection. A look of intense possessiveness crossed his face.

"Good," he murmured, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. "Mine."

He rolled off you reluctantly, flopping onto his back beside you and immediately pulling you into his side. You rested your head on his chest, listening to his heart slowly returning to a normal rhythm.

"What time is it?" he asked drowsily into your hair.

You craned your neck to look at the evil red numbers. "1:15 AM."

He groaned. "I have to go in like an hour. If my mom wakes up for water and checks my room, I'm dead."

"Stay a little longer," you pleaded, tracing the sharp line of his collarbone with your fingertip.

His arm tightened around you. "Yeah. Okay. A little longer."

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your ridiculously expensive hairspray.

"You know," he mumbled sleepily. "Dustin says you spend three hours in the bathroom every morning just staring at yourself in the mirror."

You pinched his side sharply. "He's a liar. It's only two hours."

Mike chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. "He has no idea, does he? That you're... smart. And funny. And the best thing in this entire garbage town."

Your heart gave a little squeeze. It was moments like this, when the post-coital haze stripped away his usual awkwardness, that you remembered why you risked Dustin’s wrath for him.

"Don't tell anyone I'm smart, Wheeler," you whispered, pressing a kiss to his chest. "It’ll ruin my reputation."

"Your secret's safe with me," he promised, tilting your chin up for one last, lingering kiss before the reality of the morning forced him back out into the cold night air. "Queen of the bimbos."

"King of the nerds," you whispered back against his lips.

It was the weirdest, riskiest, most confusing relationship in Hawkins. And you wouldn't trade it for all the pink lip gloss in the world.

make u cum by ayesha erotica bimbo/y2k reader x nerdjo

gojo satoru? he’s your textbook nerd.

satoru’s tall and got a pretty face alright, but he’s the type of guy you imagine sat behind his computer screen for hours on end, in a room plastered with digmon posters and anime girl figures that do nothing less than scream that he’s never felt the loving touch of a woman other than his mother before, because he hasn’t.

he walks around campus with glasses far too big for his face, and his skinny frame hunched forward over in that godforsaken faded saiki k shirt of his, like he’s trying to make himself small enough to disappear.

and you? you’re the complete opposite. the absolute anthesis of him. you’re all denim mini skirts that show just enough cheek to make a man stiffen up with a second spent too long behind you in the costa cue, bedazzled low cut crop tops that look like they could break at the seam at any moment, and 3 inch platformed heels.

but you know what they say about nerds - the bigger the brain, the bigger the dick. and as such, for scientific research purposes; and that only, of course, you just had to test the theory out yourself.

it takes you less than an hour from when you ask satoru for help on that homework that you “just can’t understand” (despite having finished it a week ago, and in no more than half an hour at that) for you to get back to his room, and have his trousers anywhere but on him. and for the record, that little “saying” proved very, very correct.

he’s so big, so thick and so girthy that it’s a struggle to get him in all at once, despite self lubricating him with a blowjob (that he most definitely did not cum 2 minutes into) before.

the slanted edge of his mushroom tip, firm, glossy and pale prods at your entrance as you try settle down on him from above.

and god, when he’s inside, you feel so full, warm and whole with his cock pulsing against you, that it takes you a while to adjust.

but after that, you’re sucking the life out of him, because he just feels so good. his cock hits places you didn’t even know it could, plunging through your insides to kiss tip of your cervix with each thrust and , the veins of it rubbing against your walls.

“f-fuck, it’s too much. gonna..mhm, cum, ‘m sorry.” he let’s out, face scrunched up, glasses fogged up and hanging low on his nose.

you lean in forward, pressing your body against him even closer, and placing your lips against his. your hand lands on his face, tilting it upwards whilst you tounge enters his mouth. he’s somehow flushed even more red than he was before, and letting out moans you didn’t think a man could even make.

“already? can, you hold it in for me a little longer, ‘toru?.” you pant, between stolen breaths.

he sniffles a little, and you lift up his fogged glasses at the hinge.

he’s crying. and fuck, does he look hot while doing it.

“i just, it just feels too - fuck, good all inside you. ” he lets out, words all jumbled up with sniffles and moans in between.

“you can’t?”

you feel the stickiness of his seed paint your insides moments after his body tenses up, and it becomes quite clear that he really couldn’t hold on. you ride it out with him, as something sparks in your body and your own orgasm waves over you.

he’s a mess - nose runny, hair in disary, glasses fixed wonky on his face, now slickened with sweat.

“ ‘m sorry, i swear. i’m really sorry. i didn’t mean to come inside of you, but you just kept, y’know?” he slightly whines, clearly out of breath.

“ it’s okay ‘toru.” you say pressing a kiss against his cheek with you other hand stroking through his tufts of white hair.

“and…”

“you’re pretty cute for a nerd, you know.”

divider: @/anitalerina

she’s baaacckkk(not really)

i should be locked in right now but i just felt the burning desire to get something out

Pairing: Tech Nerd!Choso x Black Bimbo!Reader

Synopsis: Choso the nerdy IT guy that works in your department who has secretly been obsessing over you and his major crush on your cute ass. You're the cutie at the office who is always brightening up his days with your bright smile and bubbly personality. You both find yourself single on Valentine's Day and alone together after hours in the office. How can you make this V-Day worthwhile? And what about the strange V-Day card that Choso finds under his favorite coffee mug? Surely, you couldn't possibly have left it for him...right?

Warnings: 18+ (MDNI); Office Romance Trope; Coworkers to Lovers; Nerdy!Choso x Popular!Reader; Obsessive!Choso; Secret Crush; After Hours Shenanigans; Clueless!Reader lol; Crush Confession; Requited Crush/Romance; Office Sex; Almost Caught; Mutual Oral; Reader Has Nipple Piercings; Big Dick!Choso lol; Switchy!Choso x Switchy!Reader; Deepthroating; Tongue Piercing; Doggy; Daddy Kink; Creampie; Mutual O; Aftercare; BF!Choso x GF!Reader

Word Count: 8.4k

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you! 

Writer's Note: Y'all know I love writing me some Bimbo!Reader shit lol and I had to write more about my baby Choso. I've got WAY more coming later in the week <3 enjoy!! -Jazz

Credits: Choso fanart in collage done by k4enyu on IG! (Link HERE!) All photos found on Pinterest!

*****************

When Choso first walked into the office and saw the little heart-shaped card sitting underneath his favorite coffee mug in the employee lounge, the one he ALWAYS uses, he thought he was hallucinating. 

It was an adorable, pink, heart-shaped card decorated with a sparkly, ruffled bow on the front of it. When he lowered his takeout coffee on the counter, he tentatively slipped the card out from under his mug and opened it to reveal a message written in sparkly pink pen on the white insides of the card: 

Will U Be Mine?

Nerdy!Otaku Boyfriend x Bimbo!Reader~♡!

♡ Synopsis- You’ve been watching your nerdy otaku boyfriend game for hours, so you get his attention another way !

♡ warnings- EDGING, overstimulation, stomach bulge, CREAMPIE, your otaku boyfriend, Naruto underwear, SMUT, piv. (lmk if I missed any)

♡ word count- 2.7k

♡ A/N - I really liked this fic, here’s a little something for thanksgiving, fun fact- inspired by otaku gojo.

♡ Minors do not interact ♡

One of them got a little too brave and started to journey over to your spot in the sand, but before he could get there, Simon Riley came back with a fresh cold case of beers for the both of you. One glance from Simon sent the man back to wherever he came from.

“M’back love. Did you do what I asked you?” Simon hummed, his eyes moving towards the bottle of sunscreen that was tucked away in the open backpack next to him.

“No… not yet. I got distracted.” You pouted, rolling over so you were now propped up on your elbows, looking at him. “Can you do it for me?” You asked, making him chuckle before nodding.

He squeezed the sunscreen into his palms, rubbing them together before kneeling down in front of you. His touch was slow and gentle as he held your ankle, working the lotion into your skin. His eyes flicked up to yours briefly, a small smile tugging at his lips as he trailed higher, smoothing the sunscreen up your calf with care. When he lifted your leg to reach your thigh, his touch faltered for just a second,

“No panties, sweetheart? Really?” He asked, his soft smile turning into more of a smirk, like he should have known that you would pull something like that.

“Never for you, si.” You giggled back, if you guys weren’t in public he would have taken you right there. He could already feel arousal getting to him too, but he knew that you wouldn’t want to leave the beach that soon.

So he waited patiently, like he was trained to do in the military. He was on his best behavior the whole time too, didn’t even slip a finger under your dress despite wanting to.

You guys stayed at the beach until the sun had set and everyone left. You were beginning to pack up your things to leave too but simon had other plans. “Been a tease all day love, think it’s time to play?” He hummed before forcing you to lay on your flat on your tummy with your hips up, your face smushed against pink towel that was now all sandy and smelled like sunscreen.

“Si!” You whined out as he flipped your dress up to reveal your cute little cunt. “Someone’s gonna see!” You huffed, but he instead of entertaining your complaints he pressed his thumb against your clit. “Shh baby, no one’s here. Too dark to see shit anyways.” He answered, rubbing small circles against your bud. It didn’t take long for your pussy to start to glisten, but he had been so good all day, he didn’t want to wait any longer.

He licked a stripe up your slit, making your hips buck a bit. He liked hearing the little squeaks and moans you let out because of his tongue so he spent a bit sucking on your clit and shoving his tongue in your hole. You were so close at one point, but he couldn’t let you go that easily, oh no.

He immediately pulled away when he felt your walls clamp around his tongue and sat up, ignoring your huffs of annoyance. He then positioned his hips behind yours before letting his tip prod at your entrance. With the help of his hand, his thick, red, mushroom head pushed its way inside of you.

You swallowed hard before gasping when you felt the drag of his cock in you as he inched deeper. At first he was nice and slow, letting you get use to it. Took him forever to even get halfway in. His way of punishing you for being a bloody tease. He didn’t stop until you were crying and dizzy for it.

featuring: Jack Abbot x BIMBO!FEM! reader

warnings: smut/porn with semi plot!!! pre-established relationship, possessive behavior, LOTSSSS OF MAKING OUT cause im gross like that, jack gives sugar daddy vibes, dom/sub undertones, slight daddy kink, praise kink, objectification (consensual), lingerie, reader has hair you can push back, fingering, riding, oral fixation, rough sex elements, spanking, marking, overstimulation themes, edging, creampie (wrap it up yall this is fiction not real life), messy sex, body worship, mild degradation, hints of aftercare but didn't write the whole thing because my braces' bracket broke and I crashed out, lmk if i missed anything!!!

wc: 4.7k

synopsis: showing off the new lingerie you bought

masterlist link: the pitt

an: FIRST JACK ABBOT WITH BIMBO READER FIC!!! I don't have a beta reader, so hopefully I caught all my little mistakes...For my sake, pretend that you can immediately put on lingerie right after you buy it, and don't have to wash it. Hope you all enjoy it!!

The mall bags were scattered across the living room floor like little trophies, glossy plastic catching the soft lamplight and crinkling faintly every time one shifted against another. Bright store logos peeked out between folds of pastel tissue paper, each bag practically glowing with indulgence. It looked excessive. You kicked the front door shut with the back of your heel, arms full of the last few bags you’d carried up from the car. The thin handles pressed into your fingers, leaving faint indents against your skin, but you didn’t mind. If anything, the slight ache made your lips curl into a pleased little smile–it was proof of how successful the afternoon had been. Your gaze swept over the living room, landing on the growing collection by the couch, and a soft, satisfied hum slipped past your lips. You felt pretty spoiled.

“Jackkk?” You called, your voice lilting and sweet, dragging his name out in a sing-song tone that echoed faintly through the house. 

For a moment, nothing answered you but the quiet hum of the house.

Then–

“Kitchen.”

His voice came steady and low, exactly where you expected it to be.

Your sandals tapped softly against the floor as you made your way toward him, the gentle sway of the bags brushing against your bare legs. Your heart fluttered, excitement bubbling up under your skin, bright and fizzy.

You’d gone shopping with a purpose.

The moment replayed in your head effortlessly–Jack sliding his card across the table that morning, his expression carefully blank, like he wasn’t handing you permission to indulge every whim you’d had building for weeks.

“Buy what you want,” he’d said, his eyes lingering on you just a second too long. “If it keeps you from whining about not having anything to wear.” He finished with a smile in his voice.

You had gasped, dramatically offended, hand flying to your chest. “I do not whine.”

Jack hadn’t even reacted, just smiled with that faint lift of his brow. “You absolutely do.”

You turned into the kitchen with a soft little flourish, like you were making an entrance on a stage built just for him.

“Successful trip?” he asked.

You beamed.

“Oh, extremely.” You grabbed his wrist. “Come on, you have to see.” You said, tugging him toward the living room.

By the time you reached the living room, the bags were sprawled out, pink tissue and satin ribbons spilling luxuriously over the couch cushions. You let go of his hand just long enough to drop onto your knees, already rifling through the soft folds of tissue paper with eager fingers. Jack’s eyes followed your movement carefully, his jaw shifting as he watched your skirt ride up your plush thighs, the faint, fleeting marks of his hands still lingering like souvenirs on your skin.

“I know I told you I was going to find some cute bikinis, but…” You pulled the first piece free slowly, holding it up between your fingers like treasure. A lace bralette in pale blush, sheer with delicate straps and tiny satin bows at the shoulders. You glanced back at him through your lashes, letting the soft curves of your lips suggest both innocence and mischief. “Better, right?”

Jack’s gaze lingered, an approving tilt of his head letting you know he found it infinitely more than “better.” 

You didn’t wait for an answer before pulling out the next piece, creamy white this time. The kind of lingerie that didn’t need a label to announce its price. Another followed: lilac lace with a gentle scalloped trim, deep red satin, and a few playful sets with tiny cherry prints decorating the delicate fabric. You spread them across the couch cushions like a curator arranging a gallery, making sure each set could be admired. 

“Do you like it?” You picked up a mesh bubble gum pink bra, holding it against your tank top, tilting your head coyly. 

Jack’s response was a quiet, measured chuckle. “Like it?” His lips curved, and you could see it even before he spoke, that corner of his mouth lifting. “I love it. Makes me happy to see you happy.”

His words were simple, but there was a sweetness in the way he said them, a subtle possessiveness wrapped in a calm exterior. You could feel it in the air around him, the quiet assurance that he would take care of you, that no part of your little indulgence would ever meet judgment or critique. 

You rose slowly from the floor, smoothing the skirt over your thighs as you moved, deliberately prolonging the motion, letting skin speak where words could not. You turned your back toward him, a playful smile teasing at the corners of your lips. “I’m going to try this one on,” you announced, lifting the creamy white set like it was too delicate to hold carelessly. “Wait here.”

You moved toward the bedroom, the soft snaps against the floor from your sandals leaving a trail of anticipation behind you. In the living room, Jack had moved to the couch, carefully moving your displays of sets so as not to ruin them in any way that wasn’t in bed.

The white lace set was perfect, delicate threads intertwining in patterns that framed your curves without restraint. The bra fits snug, soft yet supportive, the underwire molds to your shape, enhancing. The matching panties, sheer, clung to your hips, accentuating the swell of your thighs and the curve of your waist. You adjusted the straps, smoothed the fabric over your skin, and couldn't help but feel a thrill at the way the material seemed to acknowledge you, to echo your every subtle motion. 

When you stepped back into the living room, the sunlight caught in the fine threads of the white fabric, Jack’s gaze locked onto you in a way that made your pulse quicken. It wasn’t just desire in his eyes–it was pride, an unspoken message that you were seen, cherished, and completely adored. “You look perfect,” he said finally, his voice low, rough around the edges. But there was something soft there too, a tenderness that wrapped around you like a cloak. 

You could see it in the faint tilt of his head, the way his eyes traced the contours of the fabric against your skin, the subtle lift of one brow that spoke volumes. He didn’t need to touch you to claim you in that moment; his attention alone was enough. He leaned back slightly, “You know,” he said slowly, his voice low, almost the exact tone of the voice he used when he praised you in bed. “You could make anything look sexy.”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence, but your smirk gave you away. “Oh? And here I thought you’d tell me this one was trashy.”

Jack chuckled; the sound made your chest flutter. “More like distracting.” He paused, leaning forward, eyes scanning like a connoisseur. 

Your lips parted in mock gasp, the word teasing on your tongue. “Distracting?” you twirled again, showing off the tightness of the fabric. “Am I…distracting?”

Jack’s expression darkened just enough to make your stomach tighten with anticipation. “Extremely,” he said simply, and that single word made the back of your knees go weak. He leaned back, still studying you. “You know that, don’t you?”

You took a slow step toward him, “I bought them for you,” you said softly, almost a purr. “All for you. I know how much you like them.” You thought back to the first time he’d ever seen you wearing one, it was on you for less than a minute before he tore it off with his teeth. Something about it sends him into a frenzy. It’s a small shock to see how calm he’s being at this moment.

Jack’s eyes flicked up, meeting yours. That steady gaze softened, and a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at his lips. “I know,” he said quietly. “I appreciate it—more than you know. Just makes me feel good about how I’m taking care of you. Making you feel perfect.”

Your heartbeat sped up, fingers trailing lightly along his shoulders, giving him a good view of your breasts in the cups. “You always make me feel perfect,” you whispered, voice barely above breath. Slowly, you placed yourself on his lap, straddling him, letting your hips rest lightly against his thighs. The sudden closeness made your pulse spike, every nerve alive with anticipation. 

Jack’s hands moved instinctively, resting at the curve of your hips, steadying you. His eyes locked with yours, pupils dilated, voice rough. “God…look at you,” he murmured.

You leaned forward, letting your chest press just slightly against his, your lips hovering close, teasing the space between you. “Guess I picked the right one.”

Jack’s hand tightened just a fraction at your hip, thumbs brushing lightly along the curve of your hips. “Yeah, you did,” he agreed, his voice low, the kind of growl that made your knees go weak. His hands move a little higher, pressing against your back, pulling you tighter against his chest, a low guttural exhale escaping his lips. “God, I’ve been waiting for this all day. Leaving me here all alone to go shop in that tiny fucking skirt. Fucking killing me.”

That was all you needed to hear. You tilted your head slightly, letting your lips just brush over his, teasing. Then, gently, you pressed your lips to his, letting the first soft kiss linger, slow and testing. Jack’s eyes closed for a moment, letting the warmth of your body, your lips wash over him. His hands moved to your front, hands grasping your breasts, thumbs brushing lightly over your nipples under the mesh, coaxing a soft gasp from your lips. The kiss deepened, slow and consuming, lips parting, tongues dancing in that teasing rhythm that left you both speechless.

Your hands found their way into his grey curls, tugging at his hair as you softly ground your hips. His hands moved in response to your wandering hands, groping your breasts a little more firmly, the heat in his touch echoing through your body.

You pulled back just enough to rest your forehead against his, lips brushing in soft, teasing kisses. “Jack…” Your voice is a soft whine, fluttering against his lips.

His hand moved to your face, thumb stroking your cheek. “I know, sweetheart,” he murmured. 

You leaned into his hand without thinking, your lips finding his again. His hands moved again, no longer lingering in one place. They roamed all over, like he was reacquainting himself with every inch he could grope. Wherever he touched, it left a lingering heat behind, as your skin remembered him even after he moved to another area. 

His lips moved with yours in a steady rhythm, not completely overwhelming but not exacting pulling back either. There was a quiet intensity in the way he kissed you. The faint scrape of his stubble dragged across your skin when his mouth shifted, the slight roughness sending a sharp shiver through you. It made you move without thinking, your body shifting against his, a small, instinctive motion that pressed you closer. Your body chasing the friction.

Jack’s breath hitched. A sharp exhale left him through his nose, and his grip tightened just enough to make you feel it. Not enough to stop you from using him, but enough to let you know he felt it too. His arm wrapped more securely around your back now, pulling you in, closing whatever space you hadn’t already taken up. 

And that made your stomach flutter.

“Careful,” he murmured against your lips, feeling just how warm your center was against his. Your thin panties are doing nothing to hide how much you wanted him. “You keep moving like that…”

You tilted your head, brushing your lips along the corner of his mouth, deliberately innocent. “Like what?” you whispered, teasing, even as you did it again, the roll of your hips soft, slow, just enough to feel the tension spike between you.

Jack let out a strained breath, his forehead pressing briefly to yours like he was grounding himself. “You know exactly what you’re doing,” he said, but there was no bite to it.

“Maybe,” you said lightly with a smile, your fingers trailing down the front of his chest, your manicured nails scratching along his bare chest under his shirt. 

Jack’s hand slid up your spine, undoing your bra clasp with one quick flick, tugging the mesh fabric off your soft skin, tossing it onto the couch. Before you could complain about the treatment and pout, he leaned in and kissed you again, deeper this time, pressing his tongue into your mouth without much asking. 

You gasped softly against his mouth, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as his lips moved with yours. His other hand traced along your side, fingers brushing over the delicate lace at your hips. He twisted his finger into the strap of your panties before snapping it against your skin. The pinch made your breath hitch, making you focus on the quiet control of the movement.

“You feel that?” he murmured against your lips.

You nodded instinctively, your body leaning into his touch before you could even think about it. “Yeah…”

His thumb rubbed the spot your panties hit, soothing the ache. “Good,” he said softly. He kissed down your jaw, biting softly down your neck before leaving small marks along your breasts. He looked up at your blissed out face as he took your right breast into his mouth, teasing your hardened bud with his warm tongue. He swirled his tongue around before pulling off with a pop, giving your left breast the same treatment, your fingers tugging a little tighter at his hair.

“Jack…” You bit your lip, glancing down at him, feeling how hot your body was getting. 

When he was satisfied, he pulled off, letting you lean down to kiss him again. Your hand cupped his face, grinding against his clothed cock, letting out a small moan from the fabric, giving you a little more friction. 

“Sweetheart…” he said, like a warning wrapped in affection.

“I need you…” You managed to get out through your soft moans, practically getting yourself off without much. 

“Let me give you what you need.” He grabbed your hips, stopping you from humping him any further despite your not-so-subtle protest.

His tongue slips into your mouth, and you didn’t hesitate, eager to suck it between your lips. The response it earns is immediate, a low groan rumbling from his chest as he withdraws just enough to kiss you again, messier this time, more desperate. His right hand begins to wander down your hip, slowly, gliding down the curve of your body, around the back of your thigh. His fingers lightly tease the warm skin before drifting further down, until they’re settled under your panties.

The first touch is light, almost teasing–just the faintest brush along your folds–before he begins to move, stroking up and down with unhurried intent. He spreads the slick warmth already there, dragging it over your sensitive skin. His touch lingers everywhere at once, exploring you without rushing it, gliding over your swollen clit, tracing along your soft, puffy lips, skimming just close enough to your entrance to make you shiver yet never quite giving in, never pressing where you ached for him the most. 

You catch his bottom lip between your teeth, teasing, before pushing your tongue into his mouth. Jack lets out a rough groan against you, the sound thick with want as he tastes you, the mingled heat of your shared breath only making him grip you tighter. Having you like this, completely open with him, was pushing him right to the edge.

Your hips don’t stay still. They can’t. They roll and pressed toward his hand, chasing friction, wanting more, but every time his fingers start to dip lower, to give you what you’re searching for, he pulls back just enough to leave you wanting. 

When he breaks the kiss, you follow instinctively, lips parting as you try to chase his, a quiet, needy sound slipping out before you can stop it.

“Patience, sweetheart,” he murmured, eyes flicking over your face–-taking in the dazed, pleasure-heavy look in your eyes. “Let me enjoy this.”

His touch stays deliberate. The quiet, slick sounds of it fill the space between you, and heat rushes to your face despite yourself, the intensity of it all making you acutely aware of every little movement. His fingers stay focused, gathering the evidence of your want, the slick coats his rough fingers and make every movement heavier. It contrasts with the softness of your mouth against his, the push and pull of tenderness and something more demanding underneath.

“I’m gonna take care of you, alright?” he said against your lips, breath warm where it mingled with yours. The words were soft, but there was an edge underneath them. “Let daddy take care of you,” he continued, feeling his restraint start to slip.

He moves carefully at first, easing his touch as if giving you time to adjust. He follows you when your body tenses for a moment, pulling your hips up. His grip was firm enough to keep you from escaping the sensation, grounding you in it. Each time you tried to fuck back onto his finger, he matched you, guiding you in place with insistence. The tight wet heat was making his cock feel like it was getting harder by the second. The sloppy sounds of your slick, coupled with your soft mewls, have him growling lowly. 

When he finally pulls back, it’s only for a moment, his touch never leaving your weeping cunt, just gliding over to tease your needy clit a little more firmly. 

“That feel good, baby?” He says sweetly against your lips, kissing you a few times before glancing in your eyes. 

“Mhm,” you hummed out, your perfect lips in a soft o shape as you shakily nodded. “Feels so good,” you tell him in the sweet voice he loves so much.

There’s a restless kind of hunger in the way you mouth at his neck, your lips and tongue tracing slow paths across his skin, teeth grazing and then pressing just enough to make him feel it. When you bite down lightly, he notices it–he always notices it. How easily you lean into using your mouth. Something that feels almost youthful in its intensity. Not inexperienced, but certain. 

While you’re distracted with marking Jack as yours, he takes advantage of it. His hand slips away from between your thighs, moving instead between your bodies. His fingers work deftly, popping open the button of his jeans, then dragging the zipper down in a slow motion. He shifts just enough to push the denim lower, freeing himself as he leans back in, capturing your lips in another syrupy, slow kiss. His cock rests above the waistband of his boxers.

You lower yourself, holding onto his broad shoulders while Jack grabs the base of his cock, teasing your folds with it, nudging against your sensitive clit, and then slowly inching his way into your dripping cunt. You sink on him, watching the way his thick cock disappears into you, your breath hitching as you feel your walls stretching around him.

Jack’s gaze doesn’t leave you or your body as he leans back, settling into the soft couch with an easy kind of confidence, his arms folding behind his neck like he was giving you all the space in the world to show off. There’s something in the way he watches you that makes your breath catch. You exhale slowly, hands bracing against his shoulders, fingers curling there for balance as you lift yourself before easing back down. Your grip tightens just a little on his shoulders as you adjust again, settling into a pace that feels right, one that draws an unsteady breath from both of you. 

“Mhmm, how’d I get lucky with a babydoll like you?” Jack watched your breasts move in his face, leaning in to kiss along them. 

You lift your hips and sink again. Harder this time.

Jack bites back a groan when your hips start to get used to a rhythm, riding him at a controlled pace. Jack lifts the bottom of his shirt to watch the hypnotizing sight of your swollen cunt repeatedly sucking him in. The wet sounds of your hips smacking onto his, your stickiness covering his thick pubic hair and happy trail. 

You smile, hands planted on his chest as you lift and drop yourself on his cock, repeating the process more quickly. 

“Oh?” He smirks, cupping your face, dipping his thumb into your mouth, moaning as you sucked on his thumb like you would his cock. “I wanna see how long you’ll keep this up.” He pulled you in a bit by your mouth, quieter. “'Cause I already feel her fluttering.”

Jack’s chest heaves in uneven, urgent breaths, each inhale and exhale straining against the control he’s trying to maintain. A thin sheen of sweat glistens across his forehead. Every muscle is tense as he feels your cunt clenching greedily around him, demanding his attention. You lean closer, closing the space between you, and sink your teeth into his neck. The sudden pressure makes him jolt involuntarily, a guttural sound escaping his throat. His cock drips more pre into you. The combination of bite and closeness sends a rush of heat through him. 

Jack lands a sharp spank on your right ass cheek, forcing a sound from you that cuts straight through your throat. Jack’s pleased by the sweet, breathy moan that comes out. The sound sends a shiver through his body. “That’s it,” he rasps, breath ragged and uneven, his head tipping back, eyes half-closed, as if simply watching you is enough to undo him. His hands twitch, knuckles flexing like he’s fighting some desperate urge to grab you. 

And then you feel it, slowly at first, creeping through your core–your slick slipping down the sides of him, warm and slippery, clinging to him like second skin. Your walls flutter and spasm around him with each tiny shift of your hips, every motion producing that wet, squelching sound that makes his chest tighten, and his teeth clench. He can feel it, feel the desperate pulse of your body. Your lips press into a firm line, jaw set, eyebrows pinched together in concentration, trying so hard to keep yourself composed. But your cunt refuses to listen, soaking his lap, making it impossible to hide how much your body wants him.

“You’re starting to slow down.” He tutted, feeling the pad of his thumb going through your messy folds, then touching your puffy little clit. “Let me help you out, baby.”

A soft, desperate whine escapes your kiss-swollen lips, your hips faltering as you pause, pressing against him, trying to catch your breath before your body betrays you completely. You cling to him for support, hands pressing into his chest, teeth grazing his shoulder as you fight the urge to cum right then and there. But Jack doesn’t falter. His thumb continues its relentless movements, pressing against your sensitive nub with precision. Every glide, every tiny flick over your clit is meant to make every nerve ending scream with heightened sensitivity. 

Then his touch changes, just enough to make your knees buckle–you can feel it immediately. His thumb presses more firmly now, moving in tight, demanding circles, dragging the rough texture of his skin onto you, over and over, coaxing spasms from deep inside. The friction is almost unbearable, sharp and insistent, making your slick drip faster, leaving you trembling against his hand. 

Your breath comes in short, ragged gasps, lips parting, eyes fluttering closed as he refuses to let you rest. Every roll of your hips, every tiny shiver of your body is rewarded with another precise, teasing circle of his thumb, like he’s memorizing the way you shiver.

Jack’s hand snaps to one of your nipples, taut and sensitive, the tip of it pebbled from the pleasure you were feeling. He pinches and rolls it just hard enough to draw a sharp gasp from your lips. 

“Jack…” you moaned, your hips stuttering against him. “Fuck, I–”

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “You’re so good for me, so fucking good.”

You grip his chest, hands trembling. “I can’t–oh, god.” Your words trail off into ragged gasps.

Jack smirks, his thumb slowing, the fingers that had been pinching your nipple now sliding down your sides, deliberate, tantalizing strokes. “Mmm, look at you. You feel fucking amazing,” he praised, his lips brushing close to your ear. “Knew you’d burn yourself out. You always do. You did real good, sweetheart.” He cupped your cheek. “Let me help you out.”

Something inside of you just gives in. He’s right, and you always hate that he’s right; you hate how sweet he gets about it. Nothing like your last boyfriends when they would get pissy about this moment. You can’t ignore the tight coil in your stomach, pulled so taunt it feels ready to snap. Your gummy walls cling around his cock, while your clit throbs in anticipation. 

With that, Jack’s grip pushed into your waist, fingers digging into your flesh as he started to pound into you, hard and rough. He moved you up and down his wet cock. Your breasts bouncing up and down, head lulling back and forth. You tried to stabilise yourself on his chest, moans and whines leaving your lips.

“That’s it, baby. Let daddy hear you.” He said through gritted teeth. “Give me all those sweet fucking sounds.”

His hips snapped harder from underneath, his swollen tip hitting that sweet, spongy spot within you, making your head spin and stuttery sounds forced out of your throat. You catch Jack’s eyes on you, almost completely black, focused on studying every little detail of your blissed, sweaty face.

“Jack, please.”

Jack’s hands gripped your waist tighter, knuckles white as he kissed along your neck with surprising gentleness. Making your stomach flutter with how sweet he’s being. He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“My perfect girl.”

Jack feels it–the subtle tightening, the way your body reacts around him, giving you away completely. A louder sound slips from your lips this time, uncontrolled, as your head drops against his shoulder, seeking something to ground yourself. Your breath was warm against his skin. 

His pace shifts in response. He presses closer, holding you there, as if he already understands exactly where you are, right on the edge, trying to hold on, even as your body begins to let go. 

“There it is. Sweet girl,” he says. “Come for me. I got you.”

You gasped, sudden waves of your orgasm rushed through you. Your belly tightened, your fingertips curled into his skin. Jack’s hips stutter, thrusts followed by squelching sounds of your slick, and while you rode out your high, you felt Jack’s cock pulsing rapidly, finally releasing his spend into you.

“There we go…” he groaned. His thrust slowed down, grip softened on your hips, while both of you tried to catch your breath, placing soft kisses against each other's faces. 

For a moment, neither of you moved. You’re still catching your breath, your body slowly coming down from the intensity, limbs feeling heavy and loose. Your forehead rests against his, your breathing uneven but starting to steady, syncing little by little with his. Jack’s hand, which had been gripping tightly before, now eased into something gentler–one sliding up your back, slow and soothing, the other resting warm and steady at your hip. His thumb brushes absentminded circles into your skin, like he’s making sure you’re still right there with him.

“Hey…” he whispered, nudging his nose lightly against yours. “You okay?”

You let out a quiet, breathy laugh, nodding as your fingers lazily traced along his shoulder. “Yeah…just give me a second.”

“Take all the time you need,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

You shift slightly, settling more comfortably against him, and he adjusts with you without hesitation, like it’s second nature. His hand keeps moving in slow, reassuring strokes along your back, helping you come back to yourself. 

“C’mere,” he murmurs after a moment, guiding you gently to rest more fully against his chest. You go willingly, melting into him, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His fingers drift up to your hair, brushing it back from your face, smoothing it down with quiet care. “You did so good,” he adds softly.

Emo!Choso headcanons

When you started dating, Emoboy!Choso, who insisted on doing your eyeliner "because you’d mess it up," but his touch lingered beneath your chin, a subtle caress that spoke volumes.

Emoboy!Choso who with annoyance, sighs and eyerolls, yet the moment you pout or whisper "baby," he surrenders completely, no questions asked, his resolve crumbling like sand.

You steal Emoboy!Choso hoodies, his rings, his quiet moments; he pretends to be sick of you, but leaves them within your reach, a silent invitation to take what you desire

Emoboy!Choso who calls you "annoying" when you climb into his lap, he grumbles about, but his hands instinctively find your waist, betraying his true feelings.

Emoboy!Choso who before you step out in public, especially in those alluring mini skirts, he fills you with his hot cum, his fingers teasing it back inside, ensuring it leaks through your panties, marking you as indisputably his.

During sex, Emoboy!Choso who, during sex, loves when you pleas him to slow down, only to intensify his pace, driving deeper and harder, savoring your desperate cries.

Emoboy!Choso who is pinning you against the wall, his strong hands gripping your thighs as he lifts you effortlessly, thrusting into you with a raw, primal force that leaves you breathless and utterly claimed

Emoboy!Choso greatest pleasure is watching you unravel beneath him, his eyes locked on yours as he controls your every sensation, pushing you to the brink of ecstasy and back, ensuring you are utterly consumed by him.

🕸️๋࣭ ⭑ Emo!Choso x Bimbo!reader head cannons

Synopsis: Head-cannons for Bimbo!Reader and emo!Choso from here

WARNINGS: smut/ fluff, establish relationship, cussing, ditzy/ bimbo reader, emo Choso, genital piercings, eating out, blowjobs, soft/dom/sub

Bimbo!reader after your hookup you and Emo!Choso were quick to become absolutely obsessed with each other, and soon got into a relationship.

The two of you are already walking around, holding hands on campus, and making him sit at your lunch table with your friends. Your friends marvel at the two of you, the two of you who are so different, paired together like you guys have been for years. It also didn’t help that, when your friends first met Emo!Choso, they presumably think he’s scary-looking. But in reality is a sweetie. As he warms up he’s incredibly nice to your friends and always offers to give you and your friends rides if needed. On the other hand, his intimidating looks did help at times.

Emo! Choso who acts as your scary buff tattooed dog, warding off anyone who you don’t want talking to you. Choso naturally looked either pissed off, or tired, or both, which made people anxious to go up to him or talk to him. With him, people were less interested in saying what they wanted to about your slutty outfits with him around, or making jokes about how you were dumb. At parties, if any guy came up to you, trying to dance, or flirt he’d simply grab you and pull you to him. Immediately the guy warding off, seeing that you were Choso’s.

Emo! Choso who’s really quiet and usually lets you do all the talking, letting you drag him around everywhere and just let you talk to whoever, while he stands there holding your hand, watching you admiringly the whole time.

Emo!choso who absolutely adores you. He thinks you’re incredibly nice and outgoing, something he really admires in you, especially for such a quiet guy like him. Who listens to every word you say, and anything you babble on about, hanging on to every word. Who truly thinks you’re the best thing to come into his life. Pink, glimmer, sparkles, and all. And of course, he thinks you’re the prettiest and hottest girl he’s ever fucking seen in his life. Even back in class when you were just flirting with him, and he still hadn’t picked up the hints he thought that. Thinking about what he’d do to get you as his girl. No matter how much time passes he still can’t believe he gets to call you his girlfriend.

Emo!Choso who lets you color in his tattoos with makeup or washable markers. Coloring in the black inky lines on his body, making his whole body an open coloring book for your enjoyment.

Emo! Choso who lets you play on his guitar and video games. Sitting behind you as you hold his electric guitar in your hand. Carefully placing your fingers where they need to go, teaching you a few chords, and strumming patterns here and there. Letting you play his video games, and teaching you the controls and lore behind his favorite games. Helping you at levels you can’t get, and even buying some cute girly games you like just for you to play on his PC.

Emo!Choso who pays the fuck attention to details. How you do your makeup. How your moods change. The brands you buy from. The little habits and knacks you have. The clothes you wear. Your drink order. Your messy schedule that changes a million times due to your unorganized and undisciplined behavior. Choso who doesn’t even realize how much your life he adapts to, and memorizes like the back of his hand, it’s like second nature. Making your heart swell every time he surprises you with your drink from your favorite place, made exactly right. Or when he gifts you a piece of clothing or accessories from your favorite authentic Y2K/ Mcbling brand that costs a fortune to get. Or when you keep changing plans and he follows right along. It makes you love him even more.

Emo!Choso who lets you drag him to dead stock and thrift stores, being used as a coat rack, and carrying all your possessions. While also serving as a judge to each piece of clothing you try on, he really isn’t great since he thinks everything looks good on you (it does).

Emo!choso, who in return drags you to concerts for his fav emo and alternative artists, letting you do his makeup in smudgy eyeliner and black eyeshadow. Holding tight to you at the concert, making sure no one gets too close into your space while you both try to enjoy the show.

Emo! Choso who lets you pick out his next piercing and tattoo. Always with you occupying him as he gets them done with you sitting in the chair nearby, looking all pretty, making the hours ease by as the needle dips into his skin. Who also gets nipple piercings so he can match yours, trading jewelry, and once letting you put your pink nipple jewelry in his.

Emo!Choso who loves your style. Cut off crop tops, tiny miniskirts, g-strings, and thongs that you have rest on your hips, purposefully displayed as an accessory. He especially likes the real slutty fits you wear out, giving him a perfect view of your ass and tits. Choso who after a while has to take you to the car, into the back seat. Hiking up your crop top to watch those tits bounce, while pushing up your miniskirt, and pulling your thong to the side so you can ride him. Getting your juices all over his leather seats and fogging up the car windows as you bounce on his cock like a dumb whore. Pussy greedily slurping him up. And after he’ll cum inside you and pull your panties back up, making you sit in your mess as he drives back home and you squirming in your seat.

Emo!Choso whose favorite thing is you riding him. You just rocking your hips and bouncing on him, using him for your own pleasure as he sits back and takes it. He loves it when he can just be a good boy for you and let himself be a toy for you to use and play with. Milking his cock of all his cum, overstimulating him after he’s came multiple times. Twitching and shaking with each bounce, ass hitting against his pelvis. Shooting blanks from how much he’s came. God, he’s just so perfect.

Emo!Choso who also loves to bend you over and fuck you from behind, turning you into a fucked out whore on his big dick. Or lying you down all sweetly, making eye contact, and holding your hands as you hiccup and cry from how good it feels. Muttering sweet nothings in your ear with m, “oh that’s my sweet girl,” “so good baby, yeah take this dick ah-fuck yes,” “poor baby all fucked out, is it too much?” he says with honest sympathy and care in his voice. So sweet and dominating.

Emo!Choso who lets you experiment on him. Trying new positions, kinks, toys, etc. Who’s fairly open to anything and lets you use him like your own personal experiment. Letting you use your vibrator on him. Stuffing your panties into his mouth. Putting a collar on him and attaching a leash, while calling him your ‘dog’ or ‘puppy.’ Tying him up and teasing his cock with all your holes, preventing him from cumming.

Bimbo!reader who also lets Choso experiment with your body just as much. Putting a butt plug in your ass before going out. Making sex tapes, so he can watch and jerk off to them later. Letting him cockwarm you for hours, and falling asleep with it in. Buying you toys so he can watch as you try them out and fuck yourself with them. Letting his best friend, Emo!Suguru fuck your sweet pussy while he fucks your face.

Emo!Choso who needs you pussy like water at times, begging to eat it, so he can get through the day, or needing it after a long day of lectures, and it’s the only thing that can bring him any comfort. It’s like a haven for him as he slurps up your juices like a man starved. Holding and squeezing your waist, stuffing his face full of you to drown himself in. Sometimes having to force him to let up, so he can breathe and not suffocate. He just gets so pussy drunk on your addictive pussy. He swears it’s like drugs.

Bimbo!reader who loooves sucking his cock. Feeling those metal piercings rest cool on your tongue and deep throating his big cock down to the back of your throat. Smacking the tip on your tongue as you look up at him, giggling and smiling with the brightest look in your eyes. Sometimes even just popping his cock in your mouth when you feel bored while you’re watching TV or on your phone.

Speaking of those dick piercings. You love when he’s inside you fucking you with those thick metal balls, pressing and gliding against your walls. Making you feel all fuzzy inside from how they feel in your slippery walls. Like little sensory points knocking at each hilt, finding the little nerves inside you that you didn’t know could be hit. And bringing you to climax harder than any other cock has, soaking those black metal piercings with your creamy cum.

Emo!Choso and Bimbo!reader who are so incredibly freaked out, but are inseparable. The true other halves to each other.