#nercho

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after the last time choso “tutored” you he wasn’t exactly hard to figure out. quite frankly, he’s a complete idiot. he doesn’t talk much and every social cue flies over his head.

unlike you.

open about the things you like, while no one has a clue about him besides the fact that he’s at the top of his class. mysterious much, huh?

after classes ended you found yourself at choso’s door, brimming with excitement. today was the day you received your test scores back, all the hard work he put into helping you study paid off and you wanted to tell him.

and when he opened the door to his dorm room, holy fuck. you swore you were looking at a completely different person. his hair scuffed up as if he just got out of bed and his sweats hanging low, boxers visible. he might as well be naked. only thing telling you otherwise was the warm light of the desk lamp and pulled out desk chair.

you couldn’t help but grin when you held the paper up to him, overflowing with joy— waiting to hear what he had to say.

he pushes up his glasses onto the bridge of his nose, giving you an eye smile. “i’m proud of you.” his expression was warm and you knew it was genuine. “you did really well this time around,” he exclaimed.

at this point you’re practically vibrating with excitement, rambling about how this was your highest test grade this semester— he listens.

“thank you, chosooo” you coo at him, dragging his name off your tongue too long, it almost gave him a sense of deja vu. pulling him into a hug, you realize he didn’t expect it when he took a few seconds to fully relax in your embrace—that’s when you felt it. something hard, fat, thick, poking against your lower stomach.

“choso?” you giggle as your eyes shoot down to look at his pants giving himself away without words.

“i’m sorry, it’s not like tha—“

“let me help you. it’s okay, cho”

“nono—i’m sorry! i really need to f-finish my homework. I didn’t mean for this to happen, i-i don’t want you to—like, think that—like, i only want you t-to—”

“but, i want to help you.” you pout.

“m-my homework—it’s due tomorrow.” his hands move on its own to cover his face out of embarrassment. poor baby.

“ya’know, you’re good at multitasking, right chosooo?”

you’re starting to think this dude's got a thing for himself with the way he gets off on the way you say his name. and he’s starting to think you’re torturing him— knowing how to make him break character, turning him into a loud mess unlike the person he tends to think he is.

cockwarming… he’s never tried it. well, let’s be honest…choso hasn’t tried much at all. the most he’s ever done was have sex at least once in his life. boring, missionary, blah blah blah. then again, it was probably luck when his brother dragged him to a party once, he swore he’d never go back to another one. but now that you’re around, it seems you’ve introduced him to things he never knew could send his consciousness to another planet.

so, when he’s sat at his desk, your weigh fully onto him, he melts.

his face flushed and the heat of his body pouring onto you as his brain tries to focus on the sheet of paper he’s tasked to finish.

trying to finish his homework with the warmth of your leaky cunt soooo snug around his cock. he didn’t think it was too bad for the first 5 minutes—yet, when your head rests right by his ear and he listens to the way your breathing starts to pick up every few minutes… he becomes greedy with the want to hear you tell him how good he is, just like last time.

“please—just move a little bit…” there’s a hint of desperation in his voice and the pencil in his hand trembles as he attempts to write another number in the equation he’s soooo focused on solving at this moment.

“mh-mmh” you hum. “not until you’re finished.”

he groans into the crook of your neck, eyes off his paper and they’re closed shut. his hand is still trembling to hold up the pencil, like he’s going to cry if you don’t plan on moving anytime soon.

“…please?” he breathes against your neck. his fingers slipping down to your hips. his sorry attempt to hold back the urge to buck his hips— just to relieve the ache of his twitchy tip against your walls. his breathing starts to spiral with just the thought of you moving in the slightest

depriving him of that pleasure, you shake your head ‘no’ and he whimpers. desperation fully laces through his voice and he’s almost crying with need. his lips start to trail onto your neck, soft kisses filled with persuasion is how he begs when he can’t bring his eyes to.

“focus…” you hiss. he lets out a groan—half growl almost, he doesn’t take his lips off you. his teeth sink into your neck only to leave little bruises to remind you tomorrow, ‘choso was here’.

“i-I can’t do this” his lips are swollen and glossy with you. “please, move” he pleads, again. “i need to hear you—please—talk to me.” you can’t help smiling. the sadistic part of you enjoying the way he begs when he’s denied when he wants more.

his lips making its way up, kisses on your cheek before his lips crash onto yours, hungrily. exchanging his breath with yours like he’s never kissed someone a day his life, his lips sloppy. it’s even worse when he feels the slight brush of your tongue against his— his cries muffled by your lips before he pulls off his slicked lips from yours.

“pleasepleaseplease—it’s t-too much. s’warm, i-i need to feel you” he’s starting to almost frustrate you, he just won’t listen, but you can’t say you aren’t enjoying this, at least until…

he’s looking up at you with drool trickling down his chin from the side of his lips and he can’t shut his mouth. “ahh—fuck—just a little—please.. move“ he begs you with no regard for how thin the dorms walls are.

your hand twitches, “…finish the equation, or I won’t move, cho” you compromise, but he’s greedy.

“please—let me—“ you feel the sudden movement of his hips pushing into you and your hand moves on instinct with a loud slap!

he lets out a loud moan, making the gasp that left your mouth sound anything but loud. his tongue presses against his cheek where a red mark appears on his face. the stinging of your palm reminding you of what you just did.

“choso! i’m so sorry—“ you panic, placing your hand onto the spot where you struck him. “are you oka—“ then you feel the heat pooling underneath you, his hips pulsing up, cock twitching inside of you and the muscles in his thighs tensed. he actually… just came.

“choso, did you just cum?” it’s a sticky mess between the two of you, his cock still nestled so deep between your folds. his breath shutters, his chest heaves, and his tears spill.

“thankyouthankyou—fuck!—m-more..please” he whines, chest heavy like he won’t be able to breathe without it.

he enjoys this?

he paints corruption at it’s finest so painfully beautiful.

a/n: after this, I must not be right in the head. nerdcho hate to see me coming. more like this! ᥫ᭡

word count: 1.2k!