#sub choso

𝒴𝑒𝓈 𝓂𝑜𝓂𝓂𝓎~

Choso came home drunk and high so you punished him

You were studying for a test that took place in a few weeks. Now naturally, you didn't have a lot of time for Choso, but this was a really important test that you had to study for. You obviously texted him and stuff but you two hadn't gotten to hang out in 2 whole weeks because you'd be dismissing him.

You rested your head in your hands , not at all understanding what the fuck you were studying. "Oh my lord I'm gonna fail." You muttered into your hands before you got a text from Sukuna.

"Yo nerd, we're dropping off choso at ur house."

"Oh OK I guess" you replied back.

"Here I'll let him talk to you"

Then your phone rang, and your ring tone played before you picked up your phone "h-hey" he slurred , sentence unfinished . "I can't wait to see youuu." He was drunk as fuck , no shirt on , sweaty with a feminine hand on caressing him.

"Can't wait to see you love , now come home soon ,m'kay?" You responded , a hushed anger in your voice as you tapped on your desk softly.

00:23

You heard a nock on your door . After opening it and seeing that it was Choso, you let him in but shut the door hard and fast before locking it swiftly.

SMACK !

In which your cute innocent Choso tries dominating you! (spoilers: it doesn't work.)

ꉂ(˵˃ ᗜ ˂˵) 𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚜𝚞𝚋!𝙲𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚘 𝚡 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ꉂ(˵˃ ᗜ ˂˵)

Warnings: choso tries to dom and fails, smut, mommy kink (again), choso crying, choso trembling, overstimulation, jerking off, brief mentions of pegging and riding him, cute choso, dom fem!reader, 2k words.

“i wanna try dominating you..” is the sentence that led you to your situation now.

rewinding back before he even said that, you and your boyfriend, choso, were sitting on the couch attending to your own devices. choso was watching tv while you were on your phone watching videos. whatever was on the tv must’ve lit some spark in him. 

“h-hey…” he says, trying to look at you but can’t seem to meet you eye to eye. “can we try something… different tonight?”

you raise an eyebrow. it’s rare that choso would suggest anything in bed, always letting you lead and do whatever you want.

“sure, baby. what do you have in mind?” you sit up and scoot closer towards him. “maybe handcuffs, a gag, or even a blindfold.” you smirk at him as you watch his whole face get red and turn away from your face.

“i wanna try dominating you tonight…” your face turns from a smirk to surprise.

the last time choso dominated you was in the beginning of your relationship and he was very shy about it. the switch in roles had him feeling more comfortable and less embarrassed. honestly you can’t see him being dominant again.

you clear your throat to break the silence between you two. “d-did something bring this on? did i do something bad?”

he rapidly shakes his head, trying to dismiss the thought from your mind.

“ah! no! it’s just…” he scratches the back of his neck, completely avoiding your gaze. “i was watching the movie and the guy seemed attentive with the girl he was with and it reminded me how you always attend to me when we are doing… it. so i thought maybe i can try that out?”

…

he’s so cute! choso is so easily influenced that it’s adorable! you’re sweet choso wants to try being more attentive to you! for you! your heart is so full, it might just burst in your chest.

you gently grab his face and turn it towards you. “of course, i’ll be waiting for you to take care of me.”

choso hops up off the couch and starts making his way towards your bedroom. “you won’t regret it! i’m going to take control of tonight!”

you watch him run up the stairs not looking back and bolting into his room.

━━━━⊱˗ˏˋ ★ˎˊ˗ ⊰━━━━

a few minutes, maybe about thirty, you get a text message from choso.

come upstairs (˶>⩊<˶)

so you do just that. you get up off of the couch and start making your way upstairs. you open the door but see nothing different about the room. choso is just sitting on the bed there waiting for you. he lights up to the sight of you but then quickly tries to contain himself. he pats the side of the bed, gesturing for you to sit beside him. so take a seat you did.

“i did some research and i think im ready now.” choso says with a voice full of confidence which was really cute.

you nod and make your way beside getting ready for whatever he has planned for you. what you did not expect was for choso to take a rougher approach. he pins you down against the bed and starts kissing you roughly. you try to keep up but his kisses were really sloppy which made the whole thing adorable.

once he pulls away his face looks serious and controlled. it’s like choso did a full 180 on you!

ok. you can handle this. you’ve done it when you first started dating, you can do it again. choso looks you up and down and stares for a little while.

“take off your shirt.” he says while trying to pull your shirt over your head.

you chuckle a little at his impatience and start taking off your shirt leaving only your bra on. choso didn’t say anything about it so you didn’t do anything about it. 

you look him straight in the eyes and he looks away quickly, it seems like old habits die hard. “what do you want me to do now?”

“quiet.” your eyes widen and you close your mouth. choso is really committing to this. 

he starts taking off your pants and panties for you. whilst taking off his own underwear and shirt. he’s rushing through this like some rapid animal. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t kinda into it. but only a little though.

he starts rubbing on your clit with his fingers and giving you little kisses on your neck. you can’t help but let out little moans in return. you spread your legs wider then start humping into his hand. he’s always been good with his hands no matter what role he’s played.

“feels good, doesn’t it?” he whispers into your ear. “want more?” you nod your head quickly in hopes he’d put his fingers in. 

and put his fingers in he does. you were so wet that you were already lubricated enough for him to plug into you. he slowly goes deeper and deeper into you, looking straight into your eyes for any signs of discomfort.

you moan out. “fuck- you’re doing so good, baby-”

he gives you a slap on your side with his other hand. “d-don’t speak.” he pouts and gives you a slight glare. you apologize briefly before shutting your mouth again.

once his fingers are fully inside of you he gives you some time to adjust. you give him a silent go ahead by grinding against them. he starts by slowly pulling them out and back in, increasing his speed fastly.

you start moaning out and grabbing onto the arm of the hand connecting him to you. guiding his hand more you help him push in and out at the speed that you desire. you’re surprised that choso is letting you do all this seeing as he is supposed to be in control of the situation.

oh well. the pleasure is too good for you to stop and think about whatever is going on with him.

you continue grinding against his hand starting to feel your very own orgasm build up. your fingers dig so hard into his arm that you hear a slight wince from his direction. it causes choso to curl his fingers and dig into a spot that sends you up there with the angels.

you let out a moan which volume rivals that of a high pitch scream. you squirt all over his fingers and land onto your very own tummy.

it was amazing. it was bliss. choso’s fingering skills put yours to shame. his skills should have their own metal the way they continue to send you to heaven no matter what they do.

coming back from your high, you open your eyes and look towards choso. he’s been awfully quiet so you wonder if something happened to him.

choso’s eyes are blown out and his face is completely red. he doesn’t say anything. he doesn’t even move or take his fingers out of you.

“choso?” you try to break him out of his silent trance. it was starting to worry you now. you slowly take his fingers out and it causes a whine out of you.

with that out of the way you finally take a clear look at what’s going on with him. then you clearly see the cause of all his silence.

choso came onto himself.

he came to the sight of you squirting over his fingers.

you can’t help but let out a laugh. so much for trying to take control of the situation and be dominant. it can’t be helped. he can’t even control himself.

“baby.” the pet name throws choso out of his silence and causes a whimper out of him. you rub up and down his arm as if to soothe him. “you made a mess all over yourself.”

choso’s face continues to heat up and he looks away from you. that won’t do. the situation has changed now and this role clearly isn't meant for someone as cute as choso. you grab his face and force it to face you.

choso lets out a huge whine from your forcefulness. “uh-uh. that won't do, look at me.” you stare into his eyes which finally gets him to crumble under you.

“poor baby, couldn’t contain himself.” you let go of his face and slowly crawl your hand down his chest onto his tummy. choso twitches under the touch of your hand. his adorable tears slowly begin to form.

“i n-need help, please.” there it is. choso can’t help himself. this is his role that he’s much more suited for. “mommy, i want more… please help me. i need you to tell me what to do. i wanna be a good boy for you.”

his sobs get out of control. “i can’t do it, mommy. you’re better at it than me.” he takes your hand off of his tummy and guides it closer towards his red cock. “i wanna come again. but i want you to touch me.”

you smile. your choso was so pretty and perfect. he tried his best today and you couldn't be more happy and proud of him for at least trying. he should get a reward but..

“remember how you kept telling me to be quiet and then hit me? good boys aren’t rude or disrespectful towards their mommy.” you wrap your hand around his cock and he cries out. you waste no time and start jerking him off fast with his own come. 

“ahh!♡ mommy, wait! i just- ngh- came! it’s too much! too fast” the tears start pouring down his face faster. “i’m sorry- i’m sorry- i’m sorry-” he continues rambling on while trying to escape your grasp. his hips move away and towards your hands as if they’re confused on what they want.

choso’s brain is telling him to move away but his body is saying something different. he looks at you with teary eyes and grabs onto your moving hand. “kiss- please. i wanna kiss you, mommy.”

so precious. you wanna break him so bad. “do boys like you deserve a kiss? you tried telling mommy what to do today.” your hand starts getting sloppier as you rub the head of his cock for more pleasure. 

his brain turns stupid that he can’t even respond back. just random, unintelligible words and moans. you can’t resist him anyways. you give a deep kiss, a better one than he gave you earlier. his eyes roll to the back of his head, taking your face into his hands to pull you closer towards him.

“mmph.. ngh...♡” he comes right there on the spot, all over your hands.

you let go of him and pepper kisses all over his face, trying to help him come back to earth. when he finally does the first thing he does is pout at you and then panic. “y-you’re hands! i’m sorry!” he tries to get up to get you a towel but his legs are too shaky for him to even move.

you give him a sweet kiss on the cheek before whispering in his ear. “i’m not done with you yet.” his eyes widen and his face turns fast to face yours it almost gives him whiplash.

“eh?! i can’t take any more though, mommy!! give me a break, please!” you laugh right in his face.

“if you really don’t want to go another round, tell me now. i’m not stopping until i come this time.” you silently wait for choso’s approval. as hot as overstimulating him was, you didn’t want to actually hurt him.

after a while of him thinking, he slowly nods his head. “d-don’t kill me now…”

━━━━⊱˗ˏˋ ★ˎˊ˗ ⊰━━━━

currently, you were laying down with a shaky leg choso beside you. after your session with him, his brain was fucked out and his mind was filled with pleasure. you rode him until he came and then rode him some more. you were tired too. you cleaned each other up, with choso trying to help as much as he can.

“did i do a good job today?” he breaks the silence, pulling you out of your head. you give him a sweet smile.

you nod your head “the best job… but how about we just stick to our regular ways, yea? i like it like that.” you’re eyes slowly start to close. “next time i’m pegging you…” you’re trying to fight sleep to stay up with choso but you can’t. you faintly hear his voice while fading into your mind.

“i like it that way too.” he snuggles into you more, closing his eyes for a while. then shoots them wide open. “huh?!”

HEY GIRLIEPOP!!💋💋 sorry for the wait pls forgive me 😓😓!!

Mine To Ride …༄˖°.

mdni + overstimulation, Satoru calls reader mommy once, riding, cockwarming (uhh I’m bad at listing as you can probably tell..)😬

Satoru had a habit of organizing his desk with a precision that bordered on the obsessive. His pens were aligned parallel to the edge of the surface and his notebooks were stacked by size, creating a perfect gradient of paper. He was the kind of man who would notice if a single staple was crooked in a twenty-page report, a trait that made him an incredible researcher but a nightmare for anyone trying to have a spontaneous conversation while he was in the middle of a deep dive.

"You're staring again," Satoru murmured, though he didn't look up from the monitor. He was wearing his oversized reading glasses, the ones that slid down his nose every few minutes, forcing him to push them back up with a practiced flick of his index finger.

"I'm not staring, I'm appreciating," you replied, shifting your weight. You were currently perched on his lap, your legs draped over the armrests of his office chair.

Satoru finally looked up, his eyes softening. He reached out, his hand resting naturally on your thigh, the warmth of his palm seeping through the fabric. "You're a distraction. A very cute, very persistent distraction."

"A distraction is a professional hazard," you whispered, leaning in until your forehead rested against his. You shifted your hips, feeling the heat of him through the thin fabric of his trousers. Satoru let out a sharp, hitched breath, his fingers digging slightly into your thigh. He tried to look back at the monitor, but his eyes didn't focus on the data anymore. They were glazed, drifting toward you with a sudden, desperate hunger.

You didn't give him a chance to regain his composure. Sliding down slightly, you guided him inside you with a slow, deliberate sink, your expression playful as you watched the precise alignment of his world crumble in real-time. He groaned, a low sound that vibrated in his chest, and his head fell back against the headrest of the chair.

"I... I really need to finish the abstract," he managed to choke out, though he made absolutely no move to push you away. In fact, he arched his hips upward, seeking more of the friction. You chuckled, the sound muffled against his neck, and began to move. You didn't rush it, you took your time, riding the rhythm of his shallow breaths, feeling the way his muscles tightened and relaxed beneath you. The silence of the room was replaced by the rhythmic creak of the office chair and the wet, sliding sound of skin on skin.

"The abstract can wait until tomorrow," you whispered, though you weren't really asking. You shifted your weight, sinking deeper to ensure every inch of him was encased in your warmth.

You began to move in earnest, a slow, grinding circle that forced a strangled sound from the back of his throat. You leaned back, bracing your palms against his chest, feeling the frantic thud of his heart against your skin. Every time you descended, you felt him gasp, his hips instinctively bucking upward to meet you. He wasn't just accepting the distraction anymore; he was craving it, his body reacting with a desperate, rhythmic hunger that mirrored your own.

"Look at me, Satoru," you commanded, your voice dropping an octave.

He obeyed instantly, his eyelids fluttering open to reveal pupils so dilated they nearly swallowed the iris. You increased the pace, shifting from a slow grind to a sharp, demanding rhythm that drove him deep into the padding of the ergonomic chair. Each time you sank, you felt him shudder, his fingers curling into the fabric of your sweater as if trying to anchor himself to a world that was rapidly dissolving into a blur of sensation.

He tried to speak, to perhaps offer a plea or a question, but the sound was lost to a ragged moan as you leaned forward, pinning his wrists to the armrests with your palms.

You shifted slightly, a slow, teasing movement that made him let out a broken sound of protest and pleasure. "Since you're so fond of your lists and your data, Satoru, we're going to do one more exercise." You leaned in, your voice a playful velvet against his ear. "Recite ten things you love about me. One by one. And for every answer, I'll give you a little bit of what you want."

Satoru blinked, his mind clearly struggling to pivot from the void of pleasure back to cognitive speech. "T-ten?" he managed, his voice sounding like it had been dragged through gravel. He looked up at you, his expression a mixture of confusion and absolute devotion. He didn't question the demand; he simply began, his voice trembling. "One... the way you look in the morning, before you've even realized you're awake. You’re so adorable baby.”

You rewarded him with a slow, grinding tilt of your hips, a movement so precise it drew a sharp gasp from his lungs. "Two," he hurried, his fingers tightening on your waist, "the way you challenge me when I'm being too stubborn. I love it when you put me in my place. " Another tilt, deeper this time, and Satoru’s head knocked back against the headrest. By the fifth and sixth things—the way you laughed at his puns, the scent of your skin—he was practically pleading, his voice becoming a frantic, rhythmic chant. He was a man desperate for the finish line, his body coiled like a spring, vibrating with an intensity that threatened to break him.

"Nine," he choked out, his eyes blown wide, his breath hitching as you paused, hovering just a fraction of an inch above him. He was shaking now, his muscles locked, his gaze locked onto yours with a raw, shimmering hunger. "Ten... the way you take care of me. The way you... oh god, please..." He couldn't even finish the sentence, the words dissolving into a desperate, needy moan as he arched his back, offering himself up entirely.

Right as the word left his lips, you stopped the teasing and slammed down on him with a sudden, forceful depth. The impact drove the remaining air from his lungs in a loud, guttural shout that echoed through the quiet room. The suddenness of it, the sheer force of the connection, sent him over the edge instantly. Satoru’s entire body jolted, his fingers digging deep into your hips as he came with a violent, shuddering intensity that seemed to ripple through every fiber of his being.

He let out a long, ragged sound—something between a sob and a sigh—as he collapsed back into the chair, his eyes rolling back. For several seconds, the only sound in the room was the frantic, uneven tempo of his breathing and the distant, rhythmic hum of the computer fan. He lay there, completely wrecked and utterly blissful, his meticulously organized world now a distant memory, replaced by the heavy, warm reality of you still anchored firmly against him.

You stayed there for a while, your head resting on his shoulder, feeling the slow, steady return of his heartbeat against your chest.

You felt the slight dip in his posture, the way he had completely surrendered his muscle tone to the chair, but you weren't quite there yet. The heat was still humming in your nerves, a restless, pulsing need that hadn't found its exit. You began to move again, not with the slow teasing of before, but with a focused, urgent rhythm. Each downward slide was a deliberate reclamation of the pleasure you were still owed.

Satoru let out a soft, broken noise, a sound of genuine surprise that you were still going. He was spent, his breath still coming in shallow, uneven puffs, and his muscles were practically liquid beneath you. Yet, as you picked up the pace, his hands didn't push you away; they slid from your waist to the small of your back, guiding you, urging you to take whatever you needed.

"Go on," he whispered, his voice a wrecked rasp. He sounded exhausted, his head lolling to the side, but there was a fierce, selfless warmth in his tone. "Use me... just take it, mommy."

He arched his hips upward, a reflexive, shaking movement that offered you a more acute angle of friction. He was trembling, his body vibrating with the aftershocks of his own release, but he was fighting through the sensitivity to be the foundation you needed. He didn't try to regain his composure or the remnants of his dignity; he simply opened himself up to you, his eyes half-closed and glazed with a dazed, devoted kind of pain and pleasure.

You didn't need further permission. You gripped his shoulders, your nails digging slightly into the fabric of his shirt, and began to drive yourself against him with a frantic, focused energy. The friction was searing now, a concentrated heat that narrowed your entire world down to the point where your bodies met. You could feel him shuddering beneath you, a series of involuntary tremors that rippled through his thighs and chest, but he only groaned and pressed himself closer, absorbing the impact of your movements.

He looked up at you with pure admiration at your face seeking pleasure from him. He reached under your shirt…

His touch was hesitant at first, his fingertips grazing the swollen center of your pleasure, and the contact sent a jolt through you that nearly ended the journey right then. Satoru leaned his head back, his eyes half-lids and glazed, his voice barely a ghost of a sound. "I love you," he murmured, the words shivering as he found the exact spot, his thumb beginning a slow, rhythmic circle. "I love you so much."

The addition of his touch changed everything. It wasn't just the physical sensation, it was the way he said it. The absolute, unguarded vulnerability in his voice, the way he was offering everything he had left while he was still shaking from his own peak. He didn't stop, his finger continuing that steady, insistent pressure, circling with a devotion that felt like a prayer. "I love you," he whispered again, his voice gaining a slight, needy edge, "I love you, I love you..."

The repetition became a mantra, a rhythmic anchor that pulled you under. You felt the first ripple of the orgasm start at the base of your spine and bloom outward, a sudden, crashing wave of heat that drowned out every other sense. You arched your back, your nails digging into his shoulders as you came, your body tightening around him in a series of intense, rhythmic contractions that left you breathless. Satoru let out a strangled, muffled sound of satisfaction, his hand remaining firmly pressed against you, holding you there as you shuddered through the peak.

HEY GIRLIEPOP!!🥹😚

damn, it seems like you lot all love sub Choso so I really hope you like my writing just as muchhh💋.

Crumbs of you or none of you . ִ༄˖°.

"Fuck, you're—" Choso's voice hitched, fingers digging into your hips as you rolled against him, the sheets tangled between your legs. His dark eyes were hazy, pupils blown wide, lips parted around shallow breaths. You'd been at this for a while, the kind of slow, indulgent friction that made the room feel smaller, the air thicker.

You grinned, dragging your nails down his chest just to watch him shudder. "I'm what?"

He swallowed hard, throat working. His usual composure—the calm, collected way he carried himself—was fraying at the edges, and you loved it. Loved pulling him apart like this.

“You’re so beautiful b-baby,” Choso mumbled. “Everything about you is just perfect, I s-swear from your gorgeous smile all the way to your pretty little feet,”

“Oh mommy, when you’re not around, it hurts me physically and I c-can feel an ache in my chest.”

Choso was overwhelmed with emotion, all his thoughts and feelings pouring out from his chest.

A confused look rested on your face but it felt nice to hear good things about yourself so you let it slide.

Suddenly, His hands tightened on your waist, holding you still for a second. His expression flickered, something uncertain passing over his face before he spoke again, voice rough but quieter now. "I think I'm in love with you."

You froze, breath catching mid-motion. His words hung between you like a live wire, sparking against your skin. For a heartbeat, the room was too quiet—just the rustle of sheets and the unsteady rhythm of his breathing beneath you.

Choso’s grip on your hips loosened, as if he was already bracing for you to pull away. His throat bobbed again, but he didn’t look down, didn’t try to take it back. The raw sincerity in his gaze made your chest ache.

You blinked at him, slow and deliberate, like he’d just confessed to secretly being chat noir. Then—you laughed. Not a cruel laugh, but the kind that bubbled up from sheer disbelief, your forehead pressing against his shoulder as your body shook with it. “Oh my god,” you wheezed, “you cannot be serious right now.”

Choso went rigid beneath you, his breath stuttering to a stop. You could feel the way his pulse jumped under your palms where they rested against his chest, rapid and uneven. When you lifted your head, his expression was carefully blank—too blank, the way he got when he was trying not to let anything show.

You propped yourself up on one elbow, tilting your head. “Choso. We’ve known each other for what, four months months? And half of that was you pretending you didn’t want to fuck me.” You tapped his nose with your free hand, grinning when he went cross-eyed trying to follow the motion. “This is just post-nut clarity hitting you weird.”

His jaw tightened. “It’s not—” He stopped, exhaled hard through his nose. His hands flexed against your waist, fingers pressing into your skin like he couldn’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer.

You sighed, rolling off him to flop onto your back beside him on the mattress. The silence stretched, awkward in a way it hadn’t been between you in weeks. The ceiling fan spun lazily above you, casting wobbling shadows across the walls.

Choso shifted, turning onto his side to face you. His fingers brushed your wrist—hesitant, barely there. “I meant it,” he said quietly.

You turned your head to look at him, studying the way his dark lashes cast shadows over his cheeks in the dim light. His fingers were still feather-light against your wrist, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch you now. Something twisted in your chest—not quite guilt, but close. "Look," you said, voice softer than you meant it to be, "I don’t mind keeping this up. Hooking up, I mean." You gestured vaguely between the two of you, the sheets still warm where your bodies had been pressed together. "As long as you don’t say shit like that anymore."

Choso’s fingers stilled. For a second, you thought he might pull away entirely, but then his thumb brushed the inside of your wrist—just once, deliberate. "You think I’d lie about that?" His voice was low, rough at the edges. Not angry, exactly. Just—filled with emotion.

You rolled onto your side to face him properly, propping your head up on one hand. "I think you’re confusing good sex with something else," you said, aiming for light and landing somewhere closer to brittle. His expression didn’t change, but his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. You sighed, reaching out to poke his chest. "Come on. You’re not the type to fall in love after four months of fucking."

He caught your wrist before you could pull back, his grip firm but not tight. "You don’t know what I am," he said quietly. There was no heat in it, just a simple, unshakable certainty that made your breath catch.

The silence stretched. Outside, a car door slammed, the sound muffled through the closed window. You could feel the warmth of his skin against yours, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your palm. "Fine," you said at last, lifting your chin. "Then prove it."

His brows lifted slightly. "How?"

"Tell me something about you that isn’t sex-related." You gestured vaguely between you. "Something that would make me think you actually know me well enough to love me." You meant it as a challenge, a way to call his bluff—but Choso didn’t hesitate.

"You hate fruit boba but drink the drink tea version anyways because you like the sweetness," he said, voice even. "You tap your fingers against surfaces when you’re thinking—three taps, always. You pretend not to care about your plants but you talk to them when you think no one’s listening." His thumb traced a slow circle over your pulse point. "You’re terrible at lying."

Heat climbed your neck. You hadn’t realized he’d noticed any of that. "That’s just—observational shit. Doesn’t mean anything."

Choso exhaled through his nose, almost amused. "You stole my hoodie two weeks ago and still have it." Your eyes flicked to the memory this morning, remembering where it was hanging in your closet, unmistakably his. "You keep it because it smells like me," he added, softer now. He wasn’t entire sure of that fact but oh but how his heart yearns for it to be true.

You opened your mouth, then closed it. The silence between you wasn’t awkward anymore—just charged, like the air before a storm.

You pulled your wrist free from his grip with a sharp jerk, sitting up so abruptly the mattress dipped beneath you. "Jesus, Choso, this isn't some fucking rom-com," you snapped, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. The sheets clung to your thighs like accusations. "You don't just—drop that shit in the middle of sex and expect me to swoon."

Behind you, Choso went very still. You could feel his silence like a physical weight pressing between your shoulder blades. When you glanced back, his face was carefully neutral, but his knuckles were white where they gripped the sheets. Good. Let him feel stupid.

"You're acting like this is some grand revelation," you continued, voice dripping with sarcasm as you yanked your discarded shirt from the floor. "Like we're fucking soulmates because you noticed I tap my fingers three times." The fabric caught on your elbow—you wrestled with it viciously, as if it had personally wronged you. "Newsflash: that's called paying attention, not love."

Choso's exhale was slow, deliberate. "I know the difference," he said, too calm, too measured. It made your teeth ache. “I know what my heart feels for you…”

You shoved your arms through the sleeves of your shirt with more force than necessary, fabric straining at the seams. "Shut up Choso, you say you know the difference.” “Then act like it," you snapped, voice sharp enough to draw blood. "We were having fun. Why’d you have to ruin it with some—" You waved a hand vaguely, searching for the right word, "—some fucking delusional nonsense?"

Choso didn’t move from the bed, but his fingers twitched against the sheets. "I didn’t plan it," he admitted, voice low. "It just... came out." The honesty in his words made your stomach twist, but you clenched your jaw against it.

"Bullshit." You grabbed your jeans from the floor, shaking them out like they’d offended you. "You don’t accidentally say I love you mid-thrust." The words tasted bitter on your tongue, too big for the dim lighting and sweat-slick sheets between you.

For a long moment, Choso was silent. Then, quieter “Please don’t end this .”

You yanked your jeans up your thighs, the denim sticking to your damp skin. "No,I’m not " you muttered, not looking at him. "Just—don't do that again." The zipper caught; you wrenched it up with more force than necessary, the metal teeth biting into your fingertips.

Choso exhaled through his nose, slow and measured, like he was counting breaths. "Alright." His voice was too even, the way it got when he was holding something back. The mattress dipped as he shifted, sheets rustling. You didn’t turn around, but you could feel his gaze on your back, heavy and unrelenting.

"You’re sure," he said after a beat. Not a question. A statement. Like he already knew the answer.

You spun on your heel, shirt still rumpled from where you’d tugged it on haphazardly. "What’s there to be sure about?" You spread your arms, grinning sharp enough to cut. "We’re fuck buddies, Choso. That’s it." The words tasted like ash, but you swallowed them down. "If you can’t handle that, say so now." You didn’t even give him a chance to respond before you left - slamming the door behind you.

Choso sat on the edge of the bed, hands limp between his knees. The sheets were still warm where you’d been tangled together minutes ago, the indentation of your body slowly fading. He dragged a palm over his face, fingers catching on the dampness at the corners of his eyes. The first tear surprised him—a hot, silent betrayal down his cheek. Then another. And another. His breath hitched, shoulders bowing under the weight of something he couldn’t name.

He didn’t make a sound. Not when his chest tightened like a vice, not when his vision blurred, not even when his fingers curled into fists against his thighs, nails biting half-moons into his palms. The room smelled like you—like sweat and the cheap citrus shampoo you always used—and it was worse than the silence, worse than the hollow ache in his ribs.

He did truely love you but to him, it was better to have crumbs of you than to have none of you .

my poor baby 🧍if reader don’t want him, I’ll happily take him 😏😏

i had an idea of sub choso finding out about the smut you read and wants to please you better than the characters y/n reads about !!!! he would perform each position with the determination of being better than what you fantasize about 🙈

-💌

HEY GIRLIEPOP!!😉 Thank you so much for the recipe , now I shall cook the delicious meal🙂‍↕️!!

𝙏𝙤 𝙤𝙗𝙚𝙮 𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙤𝙗𝙚𝙮?

★mdni 18+ sub choso, mommy kink, foot worship , pathetic and eager to please Choso, erm once again all the good stuff basically…

"You left your tablet unlocked again." Choso's voice was quiet, almost hesitant, as he held the device between his fingertips like it might burn him. He stood in the doorway of the kitchen, where I was elbow-deep in soapy water, scrubbing a pan that had seen better days. The late afternoon light caught the nervous flicker of his throat as he swallowed.

I turned, wiping suds off my forearm with the back of my hand. "Oh, shit—thanks." I reached for it, but he didn’t let go right away. His grip tightened just enough for me to notice. That’s when I saw his expression—not embarrassment, not annoyance, but something sharper, hotter. The kind of look that made my stomach drop in the best way.

The tablet screen was still lit—a paused scene from one of my favorite smut fics, mid-paragraph, mid-sentence, mid-act. Choso's thumb hovered over the power button, but he didn’t press it. Instead, his eyes flicked up to mine, dark and liquid with something unreadable. "I didn’t mean to," he murmured, though the way his fingers tensed around the edges of the device said otherwise.

Water dripped from my hands onto the tile. Neither of us moved.

Then, in a voice so low I almost missed it: "Do you... like this?" He tilted the screen slightly, enough for me to see the exact passage he’d stopped on—a particularly vivid description of a man pinning his lover against a wall, one hand tangled in their hair, the other—

My face burned. "It’s just fiction," I said, too quickly.

Choso exhaled through his nose, slow and deliberate, like he was counting seconds in his head. Then, without breaking eye contact, he swiped the screen—once, twice—until the passage disappeared into the ether. My pulse jumped at the loss. "It's not just fiction," he said, softer now, almost to himself. The tablet clicked onto the counter between us, abandoned. "Not if it's what you want."

The silence stretched, thick with the weight of something neither of us had named yet. I opened my mouth—to deflect, to laugh it off—but Choso was already stepping closer, his socked feet silent on the tile. He stopped just short of touching me, close enough that I could smell the faint cedar of his shampoo, close enough that the heat of him prickled against my damp skin. His fingers flexed at his sides. "Tell me," he murmured. "Do you want it like that? Hard. Fast." A pause. "Or—" His voice dropped lower, rougher. "Or do you want it slow? Until you forget your own name?"

My breath hitched. This wasn’t the Choso who blushed when I kissed him in public, who folded laundry with military precision, who hummed off-key in the shower. This was something else. Something hungry.

Before I could answer, his hand rose—not to my hair, not to my waist, but to the curve of my jaw, his thumb brushing the corner of my mouth. "You don’t have to say it," he whispered. "I’ll learn. Every page. Every word." His lips ghosted over my earlobe, sending a shiver down my spine. "I’ll be better."

Choso's hands trembled against my hips as he backed me toward the wall, his movements awkwardly rehearsed—like he’d memorized the steps but not the rhythm. The paperback intensity of the scene in my fic dissolved into something far more human, more him: the way his breath hitched when our thighs brushed, the hesitant press of his palm against the small of my back, as if asking permission.

"You’re supposed to be rougher," I whispered, but the words came out fond, not corrective. His fingers flexed against my waist, but instead of the possessive grip I’d read about, he traced idle circles through the fabric of my shirt, his touch feather-light.

"I know," he murmured, forehead dipping to rest against mine. His nose bumped clumsily against my cheek—endearing, not erotic. "I just—" A shaky exhale. "I don’t want to hurt you."

The confession hung between us, unbearably tender. I could feel the effort in him, the way his muscles tensed as he fought against his own instincts to be gentle. His attempt at pinning my wrists above my head lasted all of three seconds before his grip loosened, his thumbs stroking apologetically over my pulse points.

A huff of laughter against my throat. "I practiced," he admitted.

His lips stilled against my pulse point when I tugged lightly at his hair. "Practiced?" I echoed, breathless. Choso pulled back just enough for me to see the flush creeping up his neck—not embarrassment, but determination. That look again, the one that curled heat low in my stomach. His fingers flexed against my hips.

"Not this," he admitted. His thumb brushed the hem of my shirt, tentative. "Something... slower." The words came out strained, like he was wrestling with them. "But I saw—" A pause. His gaze flicked to the tablet, dark and abandoned on the counter. "There was another one. Where he—" He swallowed hard. "Where he crawled for her."

The air between us shifted. My grip loosened in his hair, fingertips grazing the nape of his neck. "You want that?"

Choso's breath hitched. Not a nod, not a shake—just stillness, the kind that spoke louder than words. His eyelids fluttered shut for a heartbeat before he met my gaze again, raw and unguarded. "I just want to be good for you," he whispered.

The confession hung between us like a live wire. I could feel the tension coiled in his shoulders, the way his fingers twitched against my hips—like he was already fighting the urge to drop to his knees right there in the kitchen. The thought sent a pulse of heat through me, but it was the look in his eyes that undid me completely: raw, vulnerable, wanting. Not just to please, but to belong.

Choso's breath was warm against my skin before his lips even touched me—close enough that I could feel the slightest tremor in his exhale, the way his chest rose and fell unevenly. His fingers curled into the fabric of my shorts, not tugging, just holding on, like he needed the anchor. Then, so slowly it made my knees weak, he sank to the floor between my legs, his palms skimming up my thighs with a reverence that felt like worship.

The first kiss was tentative—just the barest brush of his mouth against the inside of my knee, soft as a question. The second was firmer, open-mouthed and damp, his tongue flicking out to trace the sensitive skin there. I gasped, fingers tangling instinctively in his hair, and felt him shudder in response. His grip tightened on my thighs, not enough to bruise, but enough that I could feel the faint bite of his nails through the fabric.

"Choso—" I started, but the name fractured into a moan as he dragged his teeth lightly over the same spot, nipping just shy of pain before soothing it with another lick. His hands slid higher, pushing my shorts up my legs with agonizing slowness, his thumbs brushing the crease where thigh met hip. Every touch was deliberate, practiced—like he'd memorized the exact pressure I liked from some unseen script.

His lips moved higher, kissing a slow, wet path up the inside of my thigh, pausing every few inches to suck lightly at the skin. I could feel his breath hitch each time I tightened my fingers in his hair, each tiny noise I made telegraphing straight to the way his hands shook against me. When he reached the lace edge of my underwear, he paused, his forehead resting against my stomach, his breathing ragged.

He looked like he was fighting an internal battle as he forced himself to let go of me, already missing the contact. With shaking hands, he began undressing maintaining intense eye contact with me. He arched his back in hopes of looking more seductive for me, blush spreading over his cheeks. Once he was left in only his boxers, he twisted his nipples - back and forth - just like one of the men in one of the scenes in the book. It was kind of cute how he was so desperate to please me - even if it meant putting himself on display for me but it was sexy as fuck nonetheless.

The dark spot that situated in the middle of his light grey boxers began to spread. I guess he was enjoying this just as much as me. What a fucking whore.

Somehow, he must have heard the thought in my head as he let out a strangled whimper throwing his head back. “I’m such a fucking whore for you mommyy” he cried in a whiny voice. I bit my lip at sight before me. Choso, on his knees exposed and pinching his own nipples for me? I was in heaven.

Just then, a light bulb went off in my head. It was risky but I couldn’t help myself. I needed to see the extent of his submissiveness. How far he was willing to go.

Wearily, I stretched out my foot and placed it on his clothed cock. The size of it was practically pooling out of the fabric . You could see the shape of his juicy balls through the material. “Mommy..”

“Shhh baby..” I smirked “Mommy’s playing with your dick”. He moaned at those lewd words, not making any move to stop me. I used my toes to play with the dark luscious curls right above his dick - teasing.

"Please," Choso gasped, his voice cracking halfway through the word. His legs were spread just wide enough for my foot to slide between them, the arch pressing firm against the length of his cock through his sweatpants. I wiggled my toes, relishing the way his breath hitched, the way his hips jerked helplessly into the touch.

Using my hands I tugged his boxers low enough for his dick to spring out! Boinggg!! I used my foot to slap it against his stomach, taking delight in the way his face scrunched up in pleasure.

Slowly, I pulled my foot away, watching the confusion flicker across his face before it settled into something like panic. "W-wait—" Choso stammered, his voice raw, his hands hovering like he wanted to reach for me but didn’t dare. "Did I—did I do something wrong?"

I shook my head, curling my toes idly in the air between you. "No," i murmured, your voice softer now. "Just realized I want something else." I let my foot drift closer to his face, brushing the tips of my toes against his parted lips. "Suck."

Choso's breath hitched, his dark eyes widening—not in refusal, but in something closer to awe. His tongue darted out instinctively, wetting his lips before he hesitated, his gaze flicking up to mine for permission. I nodded, and with a shaky exhale, he leaned forward, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the pad of me foot. His lips were warm, softer than you’d expected, and when his tongue curled around my big toe, I couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran down my spine.

"Good boy," I breathed, and the way his cock twitched against his thigh at the praise was almost as satisfying as the heat of his mouth. He took my toe deeper, his tongue swirling lazily, his lips sealing around you like he was savoring the taste. His lashes fluttered shut, his shoulders relaxing into the motion like this was exactly where he belonged—on his knees for you, in every way that mattered.

You had already read books where the male leads would go through any and all lengths just to please the love of their lives. You have the real life version on his knees right in front of you sucking greedily on your toes just because you had asked him too. You made a mental note to recreate any spicy scenes that even slightly turns you on knowing fully well Choso would abide to your every whim and would never disappoint.

I hope you enjoyed this savoury meal!😉😉