Choso Jjk - Tumblr Posts - Page 3

{SMAU}: sending the jjk men pictures of you wearing their initials as a necklace!

{includes}: toji, sukuna, and choso.

{warnings}: profanity, suggestiveness, mentions of sex, reader is referred to as “my woman” (sukuna’s part), “sweet little girl” (toji’s part), pet-names (brat, doll, cutie).

[part 1]

toji:

sukuna:

choso:

i completely forgot i had to post this 😭 everything has been so hectic, but here yall go!

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Choso asking to itadori to call him once onii chan that's my favorite moment ever

Summer Choso 😎🌞

Choso 🩸🩸

CALL ME ONII-CHAN!

Choso and Yuji

Angry 💢

I have no words I just love him

Choso asking to itadori to call him once onii chan that's my favorite moment ever

— Heaven

synopsis: choso never expected spring break to be so difficult, honestly. just a few weeks to relax with his brother and his brothers girlfriend… it sounds like the dream doesn’t it? seeing his brother happy, so in love with you. but heaven for one is hell for another-- and it seems to be your very life goal to make him live with both.

✧*̣̩┊: choso x fem! reader (some itadori x fem! reader)

✧*̣̩┊: wc: 7.0k

✧*̣̩┊: content: dubious consent at times, cnc + full consent at others, switch! reader,switch!choso, dom!reader, sub!choso, nipple play, voyeurism (choso listens to itadori and reader have sex), m!masturbation, pervert choso, massages, blowjob, p in v, overstimulation, multiple creampies, choso is kinda gross, cheating!reader (as far as choso knows), choso is refered to as puppy/cocktoy, degredation (choso receiving), choso degrading himself too, please lmk if I missed any!

✧*̣̩┊: notes: it’s lily! back again with another perverted jjk man! this turned out way longer than i originally thought it was going to be. originally it was just going to end with the masturbation scene buuutttt i got a little carried away :DD i love how this fic came out and i hope you guys do too <33

18+ → minors / blank blogs dni

God, he wants to die. He deserves to. Choso has no right to live after the way he’s been looking at his brother’spretty little girlfriend. He deserves to be jailed for life, eyes gouged out for even considering sending a glance to your ass; bent over grabbing something from a cabinet in the kitchen. Leggings that are too tight, practically transparent. He swears he can see the tinge of your pink panties through them.

He should die. He places his face in his hands, arms propped up as his legs. One of them bouncing in, fuck, he doesn’t know what. Really doesn't know what. He doesn’t think he wants to, honestly. God how did it end up like this? How did he end up here– Itadori perched up on the counter, while you start to work on breakfast. How is he going to make it out alive? How is he going to survive spring break?

It wasn’t supposed to end up like this. When Itadori, his dear, beloved brother called, asking if it was fine to bring his girlfriend home for break, Choso thought nothing of it. Even if he hadn’t met you, Itadori told him plenty. Every conversation he had with his sibling always found itself filled with fond stories of you. The nice date you went on, the delicious food you cooked for him. How horribly you destroyed the poor guy in mario kart. He thought he already knew you— it felt like he did at least.

He could tell the moment you walked into their family home that he didn’t. He had no clue the woman you were. A problem he would never be able to rectify. How terrifying that was for poor Choso. Can you imagine? Your little sweater crop top, unzipped low to put your perfect, pretty breasts on display. Your jeans, fitting just so right around your hips, practically putting your ass centre stage for the world to witness.

He hits his forehead with his hands a few times, trying to get rid of the image of your lips. They were in a pout, gloss on them as your jut out your bottom lip. You kissed his cheeks. Held both of your tiny hands around one of his large ones. 

“Thank you for letting me stay Choso, you’re the best big brother to Itadori ever!” Your voice rang so pretty, shiny, new in his ear drums. A sound he had never heard before invading his senses for the first time. He simply nodded his head, hugging his brother after you took a step back. Introductions were fast, Itadori dragging you off to give you a tour of their family home. It was probably to his benefit, to get you away like that. He didn’t know how long he could hold back the colour rising to his cheeks.

You were beautiful, gorgeous, even. Any adjective in the world to describe your beauty, he would use it. But that would never be enough to make a man like him crack. One with morals, one with some shred of pride. While the interaction left him slightly flustered, he quickly brushed it off of his shoulder. It shouldn’t matter anyway. 

Only it does when you’ve positioned yourself between his legs, tongue between your lip as you put your all into the game of mario kart against the two men. 

“I can’t see the tv from up here!” Your peach voice whined after your second loss in a row. “I’m more comfortable on the floor anyway.” You tell them, a slight pout on your lips. 

“You’re such a sore loser!” Itadori laughs, teasing as you slide yourself onto the floor. Right in front of Choso’s place on the couch. He looks down, eyes increasing in size only a fraction as your frame is incased by either side of his legs. His eyebrows raise, legs shifting farther apart as to not touch you. He wants to be respectful, afterall. 

“Uhg! As if!” You shoot back, a small glare landing on Itadori. Though Choso can tell none of it is serious. Suddenly, before he can think about the action any further, you turn to him. Delicate hand placed on his knee, nails digging into the flesh ever so slightly. Anyone else wouldn’t notice it. But of course Choso does. Of course he had to. Because he's a disgusting pervert who blushes from the touch of a woman. Well, not any woman. Just you.

“You don’t mind, right Choso?” Your voice is practically a purr, eyes filled with nothing but the glow of innocence, “Here’s the only spot that’s comfortable.” God, he swears he sees your tongue flick over your bottom lip, wetting the surface. But he forces himself to shred that to pieces. A trick of the eye. 

He nods his head, “Guests comfort.” He swears, your smile might blind a man. You threw your arm up, a small victory, your body turning back around. 

“‘Sides, Yuuji’s gonna start kicking me when I win anyway. He’s such a baby!” You stick out your tongue in mock disgust, Choso’s face moving into a light smile. 

“Am not!” Itadori argues back, throwing a pilling in your direction. Choso’s smile only grows, catching the pillow right before it lands on your face. Your voice squeals in delight, making a quick, mocking joke back in the direction of Yuuji. 

“He is. A baby in every way. You know when we were younger he used to sing this song–” This time, instead of a pillow, Yuuji throws his body, pinning Choso to the couch. A hand clamped over Choso’s mouth. You break out into something that sounds like music– oh. It’s just your laugh. Choso can’t help himself laughing either. 

Itadori starts laughing as you begin to beg, to do the same song that he had done when he was younger. Eventually he gives in, turning the night into somewhat of a good memory. Even if you remained planted, not daring to move from him even after a movie was put on. Falling asleep, head propped against his leg.

Yuuji carried you to bed that night, Choso retiring not long after.

If Choso was any slower, he would have completely missed the way you looked at his arm. The way your eyes trained to the muscle of it. The way your eyes would sharpen ever so slightly, your teeth almost biting your lip whenever you even gleaned at his calves or thighs. 

If it was just that, he could handle it. Even if he is a man, he’s not primal. He has self control. Even if he found you attractive, that means nothing. Probably. You’re his brothers’. It would be pathetic for him to fall over something so simple. 

Only it wasn’t so simple. It never could be. 

He quickly learned how dangerous you could be when it was just him home. How little you cared for the intricacies of being coy when no one was watching. 

“God your tits are so big~” Your voice feels like a moan in his ear. Your hands wrapped around him from behind, squeezing his pecks. Nails digging into him, so much so that it almost hurt. “It’s no fair…” 

His face is flush, his posture stiff. Stunned into an unmoving demeanour from just how… direct you’re being. That is the best word he can think of for it. At least it is right now when his head is all scrambled at the feeling of your perfect chest pressing into the firm muscles of his back. Your breath right in his ear with every short exhale. 

When he came home from work, tired and useless, the proposition was innocent enough: ‘Ah Choso~ You look so tense from work! That’s no good, you know? Oh! Lemme just give you a little massage yeah? Help you relax right up!’ That look on your face, so docile and cute, didn’t help any retorts he had under his belt. Not to mention, any persistence he thought Yuuji had was far surpassed by you. Begging to give poor, old Choso a massage. Fix his creaky joins and stiff bones.

Maybe it was the wear he had received from an all-too-hard day at the office, or maybe it had been a lapse in judgement from the cloud that seemed to cover him. However the decision came to be, he thought it might be good. A nice chance to finally relax a little.

He had been needing a massage lately, anyway, the certificate Yuuji had bought him rotting away in his closet from his last birthday. Yet, he just didn’t have it in him to actually book the appointment, no matter how desperately he wanted to feel the muscles in his body unwind. Honestly a little nervous to have a stranger's hands on him.

But you aren’t a stranger. You’ve become friends. 

So, when you urge his shirt off, saying that you don’t want it to get all sticky with lotion, he doesn’t fight back. Letting you slight the slightly scratchy material of his dress shirt over his head. He lets your pretty hands work out the hair ties in his locks, allowing the neglected black hair fall over his shoulders. He needs a haircut, he knows it in the way his hair falls a little lower than it ever had before. Plans, yeah. He has lots of things he needs to do. Dinner, cleaning, making sure the report comes in on time. God he doesn't need another lecture from–

“Fuck-” His is sudden, low as you press into one of the knots permeating his back. He hadn’t even expected it to come out. He doesn’t think you did either, based on the little squeal that leaves your throat.

“Did that feel good?” You ask simply, continuing to rub circles deep into his shoulder blades. Your tone light, happy. Probably from helping someone relax, yeah, that's probably it. “I’ve taken a few classes, I was thinking about becoming a masseuse awhile ago.” He knows your glossy lips are smiling.

A breathy exhale leaves his lips, your thumbs digging into another sensitive tangle. “Oh really?” He’s not focusing much anymore. There must be some kind of drug laced in your touch. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” You giggle, hands cresting over the tops of his shoulder, gently rubbing his neck. “Mhmm, I’m real good I think.” 

If he responds, he has no clue what he says. Good is an understatement. Your hands must be god's gift to man. That can be the only explanation. No other human could be capable of this, he doesn’t think. Allowing one’s mind to turn into mush with just simple touches of fingers along their back. It shouldn’t be allowed, legal.

He doesn’t know how much time passes as he sits there, letting you work through his back until it's tender. Needing love and affection when it was just broken and reformed by your hands alone. Your nails gently scratch the skin. He’s forgotten who you are, what you are. You are euphoria across his skin. A feeling swelling in his abdomen as he sinks into total relaxation. 

Well, that is at least until suddenly your hands are on his pecks, your voice cooing in his ear as you fondle him like a porno. The innocent delight in granting someone relief has vanished from you, someone else taking your place. His eyes wide open, heart rate as high as the ceiling in a matter of seconds. 

“See and if you just sit like this–” Your left hand moves to his lower back, forcing it to curve just so, “They look even bigger. Have you ever thought about getting them pierced? Then we could be matching~” His brain can’t wrap around your words, nevertheless what they imply. His head has gone a bit fuzzy, finding trouble keeping up in the shift from cloud nine to being in one of the circles of hell. 

Your voice sounds so sweet, yet your body behaves as a different animal.

Your fingertips flick over the nipple, “It doesn’t hurt too bad I swear… and you’d look real pretty with them too.” Your other hand leaves his back, slowly sliding around his hip. Your fingers dance along the contours of his body, finally resting just along his v-line. Thumb gently running itself across the ridge. Not daring to go any lower. Not yet, anyway. 

If he had anything to say, the words are lost in his throat. How could a delicate touch be so sinful? He has no idea. He can’t find himself moving his head, moving away at all really. Stuck in a state of indecision. Hoping the little balls he feels pressing into his back may or may not be the piercings you speak of so fondly covered by one of your too thin tank tops. He isn’t sure which. His brain is blurry, but his body is responding. His pants are beginning to feel stiff. 

“I can show you if you want~” You purr, your voice somehow closer, etching even deeper into his ear. Lodging itself in his brain in a way that he can't ignore. His body grows tense pulling away ever so slightly when your hands suddenly retract entirely. Finding purchase back on his back as if they were never there to begin with.

“Kidding!!” You giggle, patting his back as your too-sweet nature returns like nothing. Once again leaving him a little more confused than he would like to be. “Don’t be silly Choso, I was only playing. Don’t get your panties all up in a twist!” 

And that was the end of it, at least until Yuuji got home. Until he could retire to the privacy of a shower to manage a little issue. One that didn’t seem to want to resolve itself. One that meant his panties stayed in a twist.

Dinner was had like nothing happened. And it didn’t. Because it was all a joke right? So he shouldn’t dwell. Not when Yuuji smiles at you like that. Not when you two seem perfect for each other. 

His feelings on the issue shouldnt matter. And therefore, they don’t. As long as Itadori is happy, as long as he can keep that smile on his little brother's face, nothing else in the world is of importance to him. 

No matter how much he has to endure. However many times he has to apply sunscreen on your bare back, bikini top untied so as to not miss a spot. However many times he feels your ass pressed against him as you slide in front of him in the kitchen. However many times you fall asleep, clinging to his arm on the couch. Breasts pressed against him just so. However many times he has to ignore your subtle, almost streamlined touches. However many times he has to ‘take care of business’ in the privacy of his own room, triggered from nothing more than watching the way you speak. Watching the way your lips move in their pristine little pout. However many times he has to ignore that feeling bubble up in the pits of his gut. 

Choso is a man with patience. The ability to hold himself back.. He is able to be a pillar of fortitude where most would crumble under the pressure. Women aren’t an issue when it comes to him. He can be sweet, the type of man to look at the ceiling when walking up stairs, the type to walk closest to the road. The one that stays sober at company parties to make sure he can keep his co-workers drinks safe. But this is too much– you are too much. Last night was too much. The very cause for his mental breakdown today. 

He’s a disgusting man. One that has crumbled into a pile of rubble for the woman brought onto his doorstep. One that has dragged him deep down to a place he may never find himself recovering from. He’s a freak, awful, pervert. The worst man alive, if he had to guess.

But your moans are a siren’s call. One he was unable to lure himself away from. One he could no longer battle against. 

When he heard the first pitch from his desk, he ignored it. His imagination had to be the culprit. The second, third, however, no. Those had to be real. Right? His doubts were still clear. Yet, as if his body was acting on its own, he found himself befalling in a way that had long been forgotten in his past. A pervy college freshman, planting his knees on his bed, ear pressed deep into the wall. 

He knew that the moment he did it. He couldn't pull himself away. Even though a voice was screaming at him to stop. To go back to his desk and place his headphones firmly in his ears. To stop listening to your beautiful sounds, those that were filled with pleasure. To move away from the wall as the bed on the other side rocked against it. To stop imagining the skin slapping against your own was his. 

He was too far gone. Too far deluded as his hand found his cock, not bothering to pull down his sweatpants. He still had some class, some grace, he liked to think. He wasn’t completely abhorrent. Even as he ran his thumb over the head, feeling the pre-cum. Sliding it around messily as he tried to find some purchase on sanity. 

His hands were too shaky, from nerves or excitement he could not tell. Maybe he didn’t want to. That would be for the best wouldn’t it? His thumb, shakily, almost impatiently teasing him under the guise of starlight. What would you think if you saw him now? Palming his cock while his thumb ran over the almost red head. Trying desperately to conceal any shred of dignity the poor man had left. To try and go back to before his shaky fingers reached below the hem of his sweats. 

As the thrusts from the other room quickened, your pants and moans quickly quelled any lucid thoughts he may have had left. His hand reacting to the sounds, palm finding the base easily. The groan he let out was a mistake, but fear no longer exists. Not in this world. Not with the direction of his hand, the speed of it as it moves from base to tip. Quickly. Tightly. Almost painfully. He was too worked up, too frustrated from everything you had given him before. Almost, yet never enough. This was the last straw. The last piece of clarity he had before he completely fell to ruin. Imagining himself in his brother's place. Imagining how you must feel. 

He’s a complete sicko. But in the moment, he doesn't care. His arm comes up, resting against the wall. His forehead does the same. His nose scrunches, eyes shut tightly as he tries to picture it. Picture you in his bed, your legs wrapped around his hips. Right above his ass. Ankles trying to cross behind him. Yeah, you would be really pretty there, wouldn’t you? 

If your hands were god’s gift, your pussy had to be heaven. He knows it, right? Cause you're his in this little world. His fingers would slide up your lips, spreading you just enough so he could admire you. See how pretty you would look all puffy from his tongue alone. Fuck– his hips jerk in his hand. He won’t last. 

How could he when you’re under him? Right, cause you’re under him. Letting him fuck you. Every gorgeous moan of his brother's name is his own. Just like you said in his ear that night. 

‘Choso, Choso, Choso~’

Does Yuuji eat you out? Fuck your cunt with his fingers first to make sure you’re ready to take him? No, No! Don’t think about him. Bad Choso, don’t be mean to your brother. Don’t think. This isn’t about him. This is about the new reality, the pretty one where you’re a mess, all sweaty and tangled in his sheets. 

Holy fuck. Your voice is suddenly wild, an orchestra he wishes to listen to every night, and his illusions return to him. His hand moving faster, somehow gripping his cock even tighter. This time, however, you’re in control. Pinning him to the bed, his cock buried deep in your pretty, wet hole. You’re not moving, you refuse to. Grinding your hips in slow, deliberate circles to bring him to the precipice, yet not allowing him to fall over the edge. To see the light of day yet never experience it, locked in a battle of wills. Who will fall first, who will beg. Who will be so desperate for release that they can’t do anything else but turn into a messy puddle.

It will be him, you both know it. At least in his head, you do.  

Your voice cracks, and so does his. A groan he barely muffles with his hand is all he allows himself to manage as he hears you fall over the edge into climax. He does the same, imagining he’s buried deep inside, filling you with his cum. You didn’t let him wear a condom, you never would. 

Thick ropes of white cover his hand as he calms down, rejoining the rest of the world. Panting, teeth marks imprinted into his hand from the force of his jaw. 

He’s been spiralling since then. Afraid he’s gone insane, truly. Maybe he should check himself into a psych ward, yes. That would be for the best. Someone like him shouldn’t be allowed on the streets. A pervert like him that gets off on the idea of fucking his little brothers girlfriend shouldn’t be allowed at all. He’s a sick fucking freak. 

You have to know it, don't know? That’s why you’ve been looking at him differently today? Like there’s a little spark that just has to mean that you know, right? Or is he really going crazy? Imagining that too? He doesn’t know anymore. He doesn’t know much at all. The only reality he knows is the chair he’s sitting in, planting his seat in it since the morning. He hasn’t moved since then– his chin resting in his hands, his knees against his elbows as he stares at nothing in a random corner. Thinking about everything, nothing. 

How could he possibly face you? 

The answer to that question has drawn nothing but blanks in his head. Yet it is answered for him that very afternoon. How lucky he is, huh? His brother waving ‘bye’ to hang out with some of his highschool friends. You felt “sick”, claiming an upset tummy so you didn't want to go. Despite his subtle protests that you should tag along with them anyway, he finds himself alone in a house with the object of both his desires and his downfall into depravity.

Luckiest man alive. Yeah. They should say that at his funeral. But he isn’t going to die, not anytime soon at least. 

He knows that well, not moving from his eyes from their spot in the corner. He can’t now, even if he wanted to. Not with you right in front of him– two, maybe three feet at most from his legs. Pearly yoga mat neatly laid across the floor; water bottle, phone, and towel placed neatly beside on standby. Leggings, too tight leggings stretched across your perfect skin. Tits held in place with a matching sports bra. Following along to the workout video. Pretty, alone in your head. 

In downward dog, ass facing him. Mocking him, scandalising the mere thought of looking away from the corner. If he could see all of that from his peripherals alone, there's no telling what he could see– what he wants to see, from straight on. So there he sits, in his corner. Wishing he could be alone in his own. Wishing you didn’t occupy every crevice of his brain matter. Wishing he was a better man. 

His focus has to be made of stone, face scrunched in that annoyed little manner. Lip up in a little tick. If he was staring any harder, a hole would have bored itself into the drywall. If his attention was any less he would’ve noticed you moving closer, sliding backwards on your hands and knees. Pressing your ass against the erection he had been dead set on ignoring. 

A groan resonates through his throat at the contact. Sudden, unavoidable. Here, now. The supple flesh of your ass against him, teasing him. Taunting him in some way he can’t ignore. His eyes shifting quickly to his lap, looking at you in all of your glory. His hands gripping the arms of the chairs, nails embedding themselves in the cushioned material. The place they will find refuge, home for the next few hours. 

His face finally meets yours, eyes connecting as you look at him from over your shoulder. His brows crease, an ounce of confusion overtaking him. You look annoyed… frustrated. Your eyebrows pinched together, venom in your gaze. Fuck. He must’ve messed up. Did he move closer? Did he accidentally pull you towards him when he wasn’t paying attention? Oh fuck, fucking shit. 

Just as the apology starts to leave his lips you huff. Spinning on your knees, moving right between his legs. Looking up at him from his lap. 

“I don’t fucking get you, Choso.” You say, the hiss of a snake practically wrapped around your vocal cords. What are you talking about? What could you possibly mean? He’s the pervert. He’s the one that needs to be jailed for his crimes– not you. You’re the angel. The one who’s brought so much joy to his little brother. 

Before he can respond, before the words even think about leaving the tip of his tongue your hands are on his thighs. Moving upwards, finding purchase on the hem of his sweatpants. Directing him upwards. Pulling his sweats– the same pair as last night, down over his knees. 

“Like, seriously!” Your voice trills in a whine, annoyed. Once again, he can’t move. Can’t find himself wanting to. He wants to experience this, to experience you firsthand. A better man would move, a better man wouldn’t let their most base desires control him. But he is no better than an ant now, following in your lead. 

“Uhg, I do so much work–” Your hand has found its way inside of his boxers now. He wishes he changed them after last night, but it’s too late for wishing now, isn’t it? “And you don’t even make a move?! Like you’re kidding me, right?” 

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know a word that’s leaving your lips. If he thought he did, its vanished by the feeling of your smooth, gentle hands wrapped around his cock. Flicking over it almost painfully, like you want to hurt him. Just a little. Just to get back at him for all the turmoil he’s apparently put you through. 

He’s panting now, breath coming out in short bursts through his nose as he watches your hand. Feels it actually touch his skin. Anything he could have imagined was negligible compared to this. Something that couldn’t be reached by anyone else. No one other than you. 

“I play with you so nice too! I treat you like a good toy!” You whine, seeming to get more and more irritated by the second. More and more irritated that he isn’t responding to your words. His cock jumps, more and more precum collecting at the tip. That seems to make you happy, a cute little hum leaving your lips.

 “You want me. Don’t you Choso?” Your eyes are round, looking up at him almost like a puppy dog. No one could turn you away. No one would ever want to when you look at them like that. A curt nod is all he can manage. All he can force out of his body to do with your hand rubbing his cock in a way that should be illegal. Anything more and he would look like a babbling idiot, he’s sure of it. 

You must have some sympathy, some compassion for the man as you let him go. Pull your hands from his boxers. So down on his luck, the most beautiful girl in the world between his legs. A small smile aids itself to your lips as you speak. 

“Let's get these off of you, yeah?” You hum, fingers gently playing with the ridge of his boxers. He doesn’t fight you, doesn’t retreat as you pull them down. “Aww poor thing, you liked the show a little too much last night, huh? Just a mess, huh? You giggle, mocking the state of his undergarments. The places he just couldn’t get clean enough with a towel. God, he really is gross. 

He’s once again wrapped up in himself. In his own thoughts, thinking of trying to get out of your mocking tone. How to save face in front of what he deems perfection. So much so that he entirely misses the way your eyes widen at his size. Whatever you dreamed of, it could not have been this. It’s too big, too big for most anyone to handle. Longer than your hand, thicker than your fingers could wrap around. Pretty veins running along the left side. 

It could destroy you. But it won’t.

“It’s not like that–” His voice is cut off once again with your tongue. A thick strip painting from base to tip. Tasting his salty skin.

Fuck, he falls back into the chair. Trying to find some facet to cling to so he doesn’t black out into utter hysteria. His fantasies never even touched your mouth. Thought of how it might move across his skin. No, he wouldn’t dare. Yet now that he is living it, experiencing it he knows that it wasn’t meant for him to. The mere knowledge that your lips might wrap around the head of his cock sends him teetering over an edge that shouldn’t exist. 

His hips buck upwards, trying to get a small piece of anything you’re willing to spare. “Ah ah, we can’t get ahead of ourselves, yeah? I deserve this, you know? All for me~” He doesn’t know how a voice as pure as yours can touch him like this. Gripping his cock at its base, squeezing it just enough that it hurts, yet not too much so that it’s uncomfortable. One stroke, two is all you give him. Your wrist flicking over the pretty head, spreading his precum all along his length as lubricant. 

He does all he can to stifle his groans; pretend he isn’t completely falling apart. But your lips lick the head, smiling at the taste. Moving to just take the head inside of your mouth. Slowly moving your head up and down. Watching him, perceiving him. Observing the twitches of his mouth, the brace of his hands, the plant of his feet on the floor. The way his hips beg to move, to piston upwards to fuck your throat dry. Awww~ but it doesn’t look like he can even do that.

His eyes are glossy. Face red up to his ears.You gag, taking in just a little bit more than you were meant too. A smile twitching to your mouth as you finally hear it, the thing you thought you heard last night. Ah, his voice! Who would have thought, truly, that a man could turn into this? 

You did, of course. And ever since first laying eyes on his pale face, his tired eyes, you knew you wanted to do it to him over, and over, and over again. Good thing Yuuji said you could, huh? Even if it took a little begging. 

A choked cry leaves his throat as you pull away. His hips arching, bucking up to try and find relief once again inside of your mouth. He’s desperate, brought back down to his base instincts as a man. A short whisper of a word leaves his throat as you stand, thinking you’re leaving him. Leaving him with nothing but a sore cock once again.

“You’re gonna fill me up good, right puppy?” But you’re not leaving him. You’re pulling off your leggings, panties following suit. You’re crawling onto his lap. Knees balanced against the arm rests as you position your tight, practically dripping hole above his cock. God, you look so needy. Probably are so needy, just wanting him. Only wanting the satisfaction he can provide. 

God, your fingers. They’re spreading your lips so he can see. See just what he’s done from sitting there and taking it like a good boy. He was right. Your body was constructed by the heavens above. Perfect in all its glory. A finger running between your folds, collecting yourself on your fingers. 

“Will it fit?” He asks, though it almost comes out as a plea. Desperate to feel you, to have you wrapped around him. “Let me~” You shush him, fingers sliding into his mouth. Letting him taste you. Taste what he is missing out on.

“Mmm mmm.” You mutter simply, though he’s too distracted. Too distracted until you lower yourself onto him; just enough so the head inside. Just enough so that you can at least try to adjust to the intrusion that he brings. His head is a messy fog. Hips gently rocking, trying to gain some relief while not pushing your poor, under prepared hole.

Your hands on his abdomen as you slowly begin to slide up and down, taking in a little more and more with each motion. Filling you up completely, painfully. Heavenly. His hands find your hips. Soothing the burn, rubbing gentle circles into whatever flesh he can find. Thanking you for not pushing him away. 

“Shit–” The cuss strings past your lips as your hips meet his, a loud groan leaving his own. The light of the living room proving evidence of your sin. 

His eyes look down, finding where your bodies meet, “Fuck me…” He groans, his always tired eyes looking more alert, more at attention than they ever have before. Watching as you rock your hips slowly, deliberately. You only watch him. A sheen of sweat already covering both of your bodies. 

His thumb slides down, finding purchase on your clit. He groans at the sight, rubbing circles into the soft bundle of nerves. He’s not going to last. He knows it. He’s going to completely blow his load before your first bounce on his cock. Fuck, he can’t take it. He knows he won’t be able to with the way you squeeze around him. The way your walls flutter so tight over his length.

God he should have taken his time, urged you to let him eat you out or something so he could have had the chance to calm down. To relax for a moment before his cock was nestled deep inside. Fuck. 

And now you’re moving. The pain subsided, turning into nothing but pleasure. And god he must be leaving holes in the fucking chair, his hands returning to their places on the arm rest. He makes the mistake of looking, watching his cock glide inside your pussy effortlessly. Watching as you make a mess all over his lap. Watching as he makes a mess all over you. 

God and it’s over for him, his head thrown back against the chair. His hips jerking wildly into your wet heat as he fucks his cum deep into your walls. Watch as the room goes white, euphoria filling his senses. 

Shame is all he feels as he drops back against the chair. He’s disappointed you, he knows he has. There is no other explanation. You didn’t get off at all and he's received, well, everything. Apologies tumble from his mouth, over and over again they are spoken. Yet, when he finds your eyes already staring back down at him, there's something off. A fire inside of them, one that refuses to be quelled. 

Your hips don’t stop moving, don't stop the ease of grinding against him. Sliding almost all the way out, just until he can see the start of the head before landing all the way back down. You’re not stopping, and his cock isn’t getting soft.

“Awwww!” You giggle, hands pressing against his pecks, leaning close to his face so he can hear you nice and clear. Hear the smile, the mockery in your tone. “You just couldn’t hold it in huh? What a cute, pathetic little thing!” 

His cock is growing sore, it’s hurting. It’s too sensitive. He can’t take it. He doesn’t want to.

“Don’t worry, yeah? I’m still gonna cum so don’t feel bad, hmm? Just be a good little cock toy.” 

Or does it hurt? Does it feel good? His head arches back, conflicting feelings of both pain and pleasure overtaking his senses. He tries to focus on one or the other, anything really, but he can’t. He can’t do anything but sit there and be good just for you. He knows he wants to do that. It’s the least he can do, right? For being just a wretched, pathetic man. 

Too bad it's so hard to pull away. But you’re addicting, and he can’t help but try to find his fix. No matter how much it hurts, he can’t help but find sparks in the way you move. Your hips moving rapidly, fucking yourself onto his cock without a care for how he might be feeling. How good he must be feeling dancing along the fine line between pain and pleasure, not daring to stick a toe into either side of the tides for fear of not returning. 

Not a care for how you grab his hand, press his thumb against your clit and rub circles until he gets the hint, gaining enough clarity to do it on his own. Your voice is all he can hear through his rough pants, air catching in his throat forming a groan every time you move. Every time you test him, urge him to stop if he can’t take it.

But he will take it. He’ll feed himself to you on a silver platter, apple tied in his mouth if you wanted him to. He takes all of it. Basks in the glow of your pussy finding pleasure in his cock. And once again he can feel the bubble in the pit of his stomach growing, telling him once again that he’s close. So terribly close he doesn’t know how much more he can take. 

So he focuses on your voice– tries to at least. As much as he can while his head is spinning. Filled with clouds and spinning like a cyclone. The beautiful melodic voice he heard when you first arrived. The pristine laugh you let out on the first night. The whines you’d release when he’d rub sunblock into his back, and now the same voice he heard the night before. Chanting his name, whispering it close in his ear. Only this time it’s real. Your arms wrapped around his neck, your moans filling his ear drums. 

His name falling from your lips as you moan about how close you are. About how good he feels. 

Your hips moving faster, harsher against his own than ever before. His thumb pressing against your clit, urging you to your release as he hangs on the precipice of his own. Cock twitching with every menstruation, walls fluttering against him until finally, your hips fall against his own. Your voice letting out a moan, his own doing the same as he releases thick streams of white into your walls for the second time that night. 

You tighten around him, almost unbearably so with how sensitive, how much of a mess the poor man’s cock is. Your hips grinding gently, coaxing the both of you through your orgasms until bodies fall against one another. The waves of pleasure soothing into a gentle tide, neither of you moving to remove yourselves from the other. 

Your head rests against his shoulder, his hand coming up to hold the back of your neck gently. To keep you there, to bask in the moment before the timer comes to an end and he realises what he has done. What the both of you have done. He should panic. He should. But all of the energy is sucked dry from his body. He can’t move, he doesn’t want to. Not when his cock is still tucked deep inside of you. When he can still feel you. 

After the glow has faded and only sweaty bodies are left in the room you get up, though he isn’t entirely sure when. His eyelids heavy, falling down no matter how hard he tries to keep them awake. 

When he wakes up, nothing is amiss. His pants are up, his hair is combed. You and Yuuji are sitting happily on the couch watching a movie. Was it all a dream? No, no it couldn’t have been. That doesn’t make sense. He knows it was real. He knows it. 

“Morning.” Itadori smiles, noticing his big brother awake. Looking around the room in utter shock and confusion. His eyes slowly drift to the both of you, Yuuji’s arm tucked around your shoulders like nothing. 

The knowing smile you give him is all the evidence he needs that it was real. 

“We didn’t wake you up, right?” You ask innocently, head tilting to the side. He shakes his head, still in a bit of shock.  “Good, good…” you sing song, turning your attention back to the tv with ease. 

“Did you wanna tell him the good news or should I?” Yuuji asks, looking over to you with that confident smile he always has on his face. The smile Choso loves. The one he wants to protect and keep safe as his big brother. 

“Me! Me!” You say excitedly, almost bouncing in your seat. “Yuuji invited me to stay over the summer too! Isn’t that amazing?!”

Choso is going to die. For real this time.

# - 𝐅𝐖𝐁!𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 📍

masterlist | jjk masterlist | anon masterlist

FWB!Choso who was dragged into a bar, clearly uncomfortable and out of place as he shifts in his spot and plays with his fingers near the entrance.

FWB!Choso who’s eyes nervously scan the room looking for something, anything to take him out of this situation when they land on you.

FWB!Choso sees you sat in the far end of the bar laughing with your friends as you animatedly use your hands to emphasise whatever it is you’re trying convey to them.

FWB!Choso who’s now more nervous than when he was walking in, taking in your big round eyes, long hair you clearly spent time curling, and the fine lines on your face when you smiled or scrunched your eyebrows together.

FWB!Choso who’s heart raced faster than he’s ever known when your eyes met his from across the room. The way you sent a smile his way before titling your head as if inviting him to walk over which is exactly what he did.

FWB!Choso who nervously scuttles over, hands rubbing feverishly on his pants as he makes his way closer, ridding them of any sweat and never once breaking eye contact.

FWB!Choso sheepishly smiles at you as he waits for you to make conversation, suddenly forgetting everything around him as he focuses on you, on your lips that are soundlessly moving - trying to make flirtatious conversation with him.

FWB!Choso who focuses back in when he feels you tug on his hand, guiding him outside and towards a cab you waved down before latching onto him, not paying any attention to the cab driver sending you looks of disapproval.

FWB!Choso who doesn’t remember either of you giving the driver your address but somehow ended up in your apartment either way as you both stumble through your apartment door, not wanting to break apart for even a fraction of a second.

FWB!Choso who’s enamoured by everything you do; the way you lead him to sit on your bed - straddling him in the process, the heavy breaths and pants you release into his neck as you grind yourself onto his lap, the way your hands slowly trace his happy trail - leading towards forbidden lands.

FWB!Choso doesn’t remember when you both lost your clothes, everything passing in a blur of intoxication, excitement, and lust. He felt like he was watching himself - as if he was a fly on the wall, his mind had left his body - now fuelled by pleasure.

FWB!Choso who distinctly remembers the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you sank down on his cock, the softness of your hands as you caressed his chest, the way your tits continuously bounced up and down as you rode him, and the short pants that left your bruised lips with every thrust of his hips.

FWB!Choso who makes a habit of coming over to seek and chase the pleasure he’s longed for since that night, always convincing you out of dates with other men so he can sink his cock back where it belongs.

FWB!Choso who’s convinced that you were made for him - that your tight cunt was made for him, moulded perfectly for him. And he expresses this through heavy pants while his hips slam into yours;

“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘩𝘶𝘩? 𝘎𝘰𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘮? 𝘮𝘮 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 - 𝘐 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯”

FWB!Choso who doesn’t recognise the warm and fuzzy feeling he gets just by being in the same room as you, doesn’t understand why he gets this ugly feeling festering inside - wanting to burst out of his chest when you’d get dolled up for a date that wasn’t him, later ripping off your clothes before tossing you on the bed.

FWB!Choso realises his feelings months later whilst in the warmth of being buried inside you, balls deep as his eyes scan your body above him as if on a pedestal he himself placed you on, the rays of sun highlighting your figure, your hair cascading down your back and shoulders, the parting of your lips, and the pure look of love and home that streamed from your eyes.

You were his home.

—

=͟͟͞͞ ⌧ 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐋: I had so much fun writing this!! I love choso sm

— 𝘒𝘰𝘪 𝘹𝘰

Hii ❤️ I just want to let you know that I absolutely love your creations and I desperately beg you to make moodboard for Choso. Pretty please 🥰🥰🥰

Dating Choso Kamo <3

=͟͟͞͞ ⌧ : puppy boy cho is here!!!

Choso sleeps. A lot.

It’s more than you would imagine for a man of his importance, yet for nearly three hours a day after getting to your place, he curls up on the couch, kicks his legs up and closes his pretty eyes to let his dreams take over and slumber wash over him.

It's cute. It's also just a little bizarre.

You always smile down at him, card a hand through his soft hair, plant a kiss to his forehead and lay a warm blanket over his shoulders to keep him warm.

His little snores ring in the air as you cook dinner, and when he wakes up with the smell of fresh food, he hooks his chin over your shoulder and wraps his arms around your torso with a sleepy smile.

Today, that cycle breaks.

You card your hand through his hair with a loving smile, lean down to press a kiss to his forehead, and-

Big, pretty eyes immediately blink open before you can make contact, a wide smile splaying over his face, only to drop in worry when you flinch back and fall.

“OH GOD!”

“Oh no!”

An arm quickly darts out to catch you, only to have you half caught, half plopped to the floor. You clutch your chest in fear, “choso! What’re you doing!”

“I… I was just-“

“You scared me, you ass! Why are you pretending to be asleep!”

"I didn't mean to!" he says quickly. "I just got so excited for my kiss... I'm sorry."

Your brows furrow and you plop down next to him on the couch, "what kiss, Cho?"

His cheeks blister into a blush of embarrassment, "When... when I fall asleep, you press a kiss to my forehead, and I really like that. It's something that's simple, but i really enjoy you doing." He buries his face in his hands to hide the way he’s blushing.

You ponder for a few seconds before the lightbulb goes off in your head, “ohhhhh! Your forehead kiss!”

He nods in his hands.

“Babe,” you chuckle. “I can just give you forehead kisses. There not exclusive to when you’re asleep! All you have to do is ask, or let me just come to you naturally. Nine times out of ten, when I come near you, I'm coming in for a kiss." To prove your point, you lean inwards to press a loving kiss to his forehead, then one on his nose, then the corner of his lips. He smiles and turns his head slightly to catch your lips in a kiss, and you pull back with a smile. “I like kissing you. Awake, and asleep.”

“Well I like receiving your kisses,” he says, laying his hand palm up for you to lace your fingers with, which you do happily before bringing his knuckles up to kiss them as well. “I like you giving me affection.”

“And I like giving it to you,” you laugh.

He tosses an arm around your shoulder and pull you close to his side, allowing you to cuddle into him with a happy sigh.

You kiss his cheek, “so… you like getting kissed huh?”

He blushes again and rests his forehead against yours to make eye contact, “don’t push it.”

“Too late, Cho.”

someone arrest gege😭

PLEASE MOMMY ! ! [C.K]

long distance!choso who made it his daily nightly routine to call you every night before you fell asleep. the two of you had made mention on seeing each want couldn’t agree to a certain date. so while playing COD, counter strike or whatever game interested him at that moment, he always had your live call displaying on the other monitor.

”fuck!” he groans, slumping back in his chair. “fuckin’ tryhards. take a shower!” he verbally raged before getting back to his keyboard and mouse. he hears you giggling through his headset. “what’s so funny?” he fails to contain his smile from hearing your laughter. “nothing, nothing.” you wave your hands, trying not to laugh at him.

long distance!choso who at heart was the cutest person you had ever met. his feeble attempts at being dominant, telling you how bad he wants you tied up, vulnerable in front of you as he takes you from behind, always ended in him whining, strangling moans and cries for you.

“gah!” he grips the armrest on his gaming chair, his other hand desperately stroking his length. his eyes were screwed shut as he imagined his hand was yours. “mommy-” he whines, whimpering for you. “i’m-i’m-” “say it.” your sultry voice tips him over the edge. “be a good boy for mommy and tell me.” you massage your breast, his biggest weakness. when he mustered the strength to open his eyes again, he couldn’t hold it any longer. your legs were opened, you hand dipped down to play with your sex. “please!” his body caved in, shaking as he felt his orgasm inch closer and closer. “cum for mommy, baby.” you order, plunging two fingers into your hole. thank god for sensitive mics; the sounds emitting from his lips made you wetter and wetter. and to think it was all from you. a few more strokes and he was done for. his legs started shaking, his grip getting tighter. all he could think about was you bouncing on his lap as his face was pressed in your chest. “fuck, mommy-ah!” his load spurts onto his chest, down to his hips. this eyes roll to the back of his head, coming down from his high. “oh god.” he shakes his hand, flinging his seed off his fingers. he looks back at his monitor, seeing you with a huge smirk plastered on your lips. “what?” he tilts his head. “mommy?”

⠀⠀THINKING ABOUT STALKER!CHOSO

thinking about stalker!choso having a routine of stalking you late at night.

he's made a home in your bathroom cabinet, watching you as you took showers. "fuck," his length strained in his pants as he watched the foamy soap slid down your body.

he hated whenever you were done, not being able to see you in your naked form.

"did i leave the lotion in the cabinet?" you search across your bathroom counter for your lotion before bending down to the cabinet. you held your bathroom towel tight around your body as you inched closer.

choso was frozen. he never imagined him being caught. so your shriek as you saw him emerge from the cabinet hurt him. "please. i-i'm not going to hurt you." he held his hands out in front of him, attempting to calm you down as you backed away from him.

you threw every item near you at him, his fast reflexes allowing him to avoid. "please! just calm down." he slowly inches closer to you, closing the gap between you and him. his hands reach out to grab your wrist, putting them into an x above your head as he pushes you on your bed.

“who-who are you?! why are you here?” you look into his eyes, seeing hidden derangement. “i-i love you. i want you.” he stutters out. he shakes above you. out of excitement? nervousness? not even he knows but whatever it was, it was scaring you.

“ple-” he cuts off your plea, placing his lips on yours harshly. why was his lips so soft? why was a pool of arousal coating your panties right now? and why are you giving in?

choso pulls back with a groan. “that’s all i ever wanted.” by the way he was touching you, you could tell that he craved attention. your attention.

! :

you can’t remember how or when. the heat of your pleasure flowed from your shoulders where the creep held you, to your core where the creep hid himself in. his moans (if you could call them that) were bouncing off the walls.

“yes, yes. agh-take it. take it!” every sentence was punctuated with a thrust from him. the sound of your bottom meeting his hips kept him going. all the moments he wishes he felt his skin glide against yours, he was going to savor this moment.

your knuckles were snow white by how much you held on to the sheets beneath you. you wondered if you would be able to live after this. your sense of hearing went out the window. the last thing you heard before ringing was something about him putting a kid in you. no—12?!

“please.” not even he knew what he was asking for. a minute longer? for you to let him finish? it was all so overwhelming for him to even collect a single thought. your plush walls drove him into a daze. oh how he wished he could live like this every moment.

he had money. loads of it. you didn’t even have to work when he made the two of you official.

“say it.” he whines. you muffle something incoherent. that’s right. how silly of him to forget he stuffed your mouth with your damp panties. “hehe. sorry.” he takes them out your mouth in one quick motion. “please. please say it. i need to hear you.” say what?

this man was a lunatic. first this man breaks into your home and now he has you bent over backwards, plowing into you. what kind of woman are you?

“hngh!” his grip on your waist got tighter, more possessive. he was close. this would be his first finish in contrast to how many times you’ve came on this stranger.

“ah!” he cries, filling your womb with his load. plan b immediately. he pants, closing his eyes as he gets off his high. you felt like ecstasy. your beauty was so overwhelming; of course he needed a moment to breathe.

terrible ending i’m so sorry.

the fic ahead is only for 16+ minors!! do not interact if you're sensible!!

Cw:reader!death,crying,body holding,

❤💖ChosoX reader,Modern!AU,angst,death,fluff in death,realization(Choso),strangers to lovers(too late),body comparisons,apologising,regret

||just a memory||written by me

Choso sits back on the bed with a faint smile at the sound of your scoffing. He seems more relaxed now. He glances at his hands—the ones you’ve been trying to avoid looking at—and clenches them together in his lap.

Your eyes wander to your own hands. As expected: his hands are a lot larger than yours wich makes you blush a little bit.

He looks over at you and watches you shift in the chair. Choso wants to ask you why you keep avoiding looking at his hands, but he knows how strange it must appear to you if you’re unfamiliar with curses. He keeps his hands in his lap instead. When a long moment of silence passes, Choso feels compelled to ask you a personal question.

“How long has it been since you’ve had a good sleep?” he asks you out of the blue. Choso tries to make it sound like a casual inquiry, like he’s simply making small talk. But he genuinely wants to know.

"I uh what?" You asked confused "why are you asking me that?"

“Your eyes are a bit red” Choso explains. It takes effort for him to get the words out but he sounds concerned, not critical. “And you look like you haven’t slept properly in a while.”

"Well your corners of your eyes are red too" You said teasing,smirking but it was true that you haven't slept for a while and right now you felt drained almost deprived of you life energy.

Choso laughs quietly at your observation. He doesn’t take it as an insult. In fact, he finds you cute for finding something to match with his eyes.

He raises an eyebrow at you.

“That was a good comeback” he admits.

You feel very tired but you don't dwell on it,you just think it's just tiredness from lack of sleep but you can't take rest aither since you can't help your own anxiety.

So you stood up walking outside the room lighting a sigarette, feeling like as if you're time was running out but couldn't explain why, so you just decided to sit on the porch without telling Choso about your worry,he was a curse afterall and you a human 'it could never work out' you tought at yourself.

Choso watches you leave the room and walk outside, feeling a bit strange that you’d choose to sit alone instead of coming to him when you’re feeling upset. But he supposes you needed space, which is perfectly understandable.

Feeling as though he’s intruding, he lies back on the bed and pulls the covers up to his neck. As he does, he can't help but notice the cigarette in your hand.

"You know Choso" You said pausing for a second "you aren't a bad curse afterall"

The cigarette continued to burn in your hand as the smoke dispersed in the cold air of the night.

Choso is taken aback by your words as he stares at the ceiling. The idea that a human might think so highly of him doesn’t even cross his mind. He turns on his side the matress crackling under his weight and watches you. “What makes you say that?” he asks. It’s a genuine question, not a challenge.

Choso waits for a response, but you stay quiet and simply stare off at the stars and smoke your cigarette. He watches you for a long moment, taking in your expression and the way you’re looking at the sky. “You know that you can tell me anything you’re worried about” Choso says softly. “I won’t judge you.”

After some time waiting for a reply , Choso realizes that your cigarette has fallen to the floor, your breath has completely stopped, and your eyes are no longer focused on the stars. He watches you carefully, worried that something is wrong, but you don't move. He slowly gets out of bed and walks over to you, unsure of whether you're still breathing. He touches your shoulder lightly and waits for your body to stir, but when it does not, he realizes something is very wrong. Without hesitation, he kneels at your side and presses his ear to your chest.

It takes only one moment to realize that you're no longer alive. Choso's breath catches in his throat and his body freezes. His eyes water as he reaches down to check your pulse, hoping and praying that you are still breathing, that this is only some cruel nightmare. But your body and your eyes tell the cruel truth. You are not breathing.

Choso's legs start to shake as he accepts what happened. Tears stream down his face, dripping down his chin and onto his chest. He covers his mouth with his hand to stifle a deep cry as he sits beside your body on the ground, staring into your half-open eyes and holding back sobs. He stays like this for a while, not sure what to do or who to tell. A part of him is in denial, another part of him is numb with shock, and a final part of him is overcome with grief.

Even in death, your tiny hands still tug at his heartstrings. They are much smaller than his, with slender fingers and pale, dainty skin. He never got the chance to hold yours as you were taken too early, but he wants to now. Your warmth has long since faded, but he craves the feeling of holding your tender hands, cherishing them forever. He gently places his much bigger hands over yours, taking comfort in feeling your skin.

He remembers the times when he'd tried to hold your hand and how you always shyly avoided it. He doesn't know why it mattered so much to him. Your frail frame is the antithesis to his large, muscular one. Compared to you, he is a behemoth. He takes in the sight of your tiny body, how pale and delicate you are, and how delicate your hands were. But despite how small and fragile you looked, you were not weak by any means. Your eyes showed strength and your will power was unmatched.

It's sobering to see your body next to his, how frail and fragile it really was. Choso can almost picture you standing next to his towering frame, looking up at him with a small, delicate smile while he's a whole head taller than you. The size difference suddenly hits him and he is overcome with grief, realizing that he would never see you stand at his side again.

While he's overcome with grief and sorrow, he can't help but continue to caress your body. The shape of your body is so tiny and petite. It's as though you were made of the most delicate glass, and he fears that one wrong move will shatter you. He runs his hand across your forearm and up to your shoulder. He feels the delicate fabric of your clothes brushing past his fingertips and the warmth of your skin.

Choso's fingers are gentle as they caress the outline of your small body. The touch is tender, almost intimate, as if he has no desire to break or destroy you. He is delicate and painstakingly careful, wanting nothing more than to preserve this fragile form that you once inhabited.

Your skin feels so soft, like delicate porcelain. Choso's fingers brush tenderly along your limbs, trying to comfort himself and take some modicum of solace in the small gesture. He knows you’re gone and can no longer feel his touch, but the warmth of your skin still lingers. Despite your frail body looking so small and fragile, it feels heavy on his heart.

As he strokes your hair, Choso thinks back to what could have been. He imagines himself holding your hand tightly, bringing you home and making dinner while you unwind from a hard day. He imagines holding you tightly against his chest as you bury your head on his shoulder and fall asleep. He imagines taking you to the places you enjoyed going just to see you happy. But it’s too late. He starts to sob softly.

“I’m sorry” Choso whispers as he wraps his arms around your body. He is full of grief and sorrow and pain, and he can't stop the tears from falling. He cries silently, wishing he could turn back the clock or find some way to bring you back. He wants nothing more than to hear your heart beat again, feel your touch, or smell your hair. He would do anything to see you smile again, even if it’s just for a moment. But he can’t.

Choso’s grip on your small hands is tight, and even in death, he can't bring himself to let go. He stares at them for a long moment, hoping that somehow they will move again. As the tears fall from his eyes, they drop onto your skin, landing in the palm of your still hand. He is overwhelmed with guilt and regret, wishing that he’d held them more while you were still alive.

“Please forgive me” he moans softly, wanting to scream at the world for taking you away from him. “I should have told you how I felt, or held you close while I had the chance. I wish I could have just one last moment with you. I should have treated you better. I’m so, so sorry”

His voice breaks with each apology, as he can't help but feel guilt and remorse. He blames himself for not loving you the way he should have and for being unable to prevent the tragedy. Choso rocks himself back and forth in a fruitless attempt to escape his sorrow as he clings to your body. His face is wet with tears and his heart pounds painfully against his chest. His mind is a mess of thoughts and emotions that he struggles to make sense of.

“Please come back" he whispers. “Please wake up and forgive me for not being the person you wanted me to be” He continues to cry as he holds you against his chest, his lips pressed against your cold skin. “I can’t live without you,” he says, his voice breaking. “I need you with me—I need you to hold me, to tell me everything is going to be okay, to make everything good again. I don't know what to do without you.”

Choso sobs harshly, unable to contain his emotions any longer. He pulls you even closer and holds you tightly against his chest, hoping that somehow you will still be able to hear him even though your body is no longer functioning. "I need you" he whispers, his voice cracking and choking with sadness. "I need your touch, your voice, your smile. I need us to go back to the way things were before. Please don't leave me, not like this"

Choso wakes up with a deep ache in his heart, as if he had really lost you. He stares at the ceiling, blinking back the tears that have filled his eyes. He had dreamed of you, of holding your hands, loving you, losing you. It was painful and heartbreaking, but at the same time, comforting. Even though it is just a memory, he is still relieved to be alive. As he processes his emotions, he can't help but feel his life has been hollowed out without you.

A tear slips down Choso's cheek and he sits up slowly, his stomach twisting in knots at the thought of being alone. He doesn't want to admit it, but he misses how he could lean his head back against you, trust that you'd catch him without needing to ask. He misses how your scent filled his senses and made him feel safe. He misses having someone to talk to, even if it was just about the weather or what to eat, without feeling judged.

Choso thinks back to how he had felt during the brief moments he had shared with you. That peaceful warmth in his heart, the joy he felt just by being in your presence. He thinks about how his eyes had followed your every move, how his heart beat quickly whenever you were close to him, how his breath hitched and his heart pounded hard when you smiled at him. Choso realizes that he was truly in love with you and still is, even though you had been taken from him.

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Yello yello thanks 4 reading,and sorry if this was long but I felt in the moment while writing this.

Probably you at me after finishing reading:

I'm only thinking about Choso with puppies and teaching at them to respect eachother like he will do with his own.

So when the lil puppy brother "mistreated" his lil weaker puppy sis Choso picks him gently pointing at him saying "be nice to your sister" and the pup growled softly scrunching his lil muzzle yawning.

Here's the drawing of the idea :)