Archive of Our Own ^beta

You first meet Choso in the corner of a dingy little cafe: you’ve arrived five minutes early to your meeting, but he’s already there, slouched over the table with a glass of ice water.

After your roommate had announced she was moving into her boyfriend’s flat a couple of weeks ago, you were desperate to find someone new. You can’t blame her: after being hired for your new job in Tokyo, you’d ended up renting the first apartment you saw online. The area is crappy, the flat cramped with two small bedrooms. You’ve been struggling to find someone new to fill the space, until this guy Choso contacted you and seemed promising.

“Hiya, nice to meet you,” you say, shuffling into the other side of the booth so you sat across from him. He stands out, for sure: black tattoo over his nose bridge, long hair pulled up in a ponytail on either side of his head, big lilac eyes ringed with red that make him look as though he hasn’t slept for over a century. The kind of emo look that, admittedly, would be weird if he wasn’t so attractive. You give him your name and bow your head, and he does the same, looking directly through you.

“That's your last name?” you ask.

“No. Just Choso,” he says plainly, voice monotone.

“Well, I’m very pleased to meet you, Choso.”

The man is shy and awkward, eyes constantly darting around and wringing his pale hands. It’s clear he’s a bit of a recluse, that he doesn’t get out much to talk to people. But, you quickly warm up to him when he tells you he needs to be out of the apartment a lot because of work and looking after his brothers.

“Can I ask what you do for a living?” you ask.

“I’m a security guard… It's a private company. I work strange hours,” he replies, looking a little put off by your questioning.

“Oh, very cool. I work in publishing,” you say, trying to make him feel a little less like he’s under interrogation.

This, of course, leads to the question of why he decided to move out of his previous living situation at all. When you ask, he mutters something about how crappy his current roommates were, how he needs time to himself. You’re feeling generous: who hasn’t had a few shitty flatmates in their time? He seems harmless enough, pretty grateful that you’re considering his application at all. His pale face is turning pinker throughout the conversation, and he keeps touching the tattoo across his face like it’s a nervous habit.

He signs the lease fifteen minutes after you email it to him.

True to his word, you’ve hardly noticed your new roommate since he moved in a couple months ago. A few polite, if stilted, conversations in the kitchen happen on the odd occasion you both are home. He’s obviously anxious around you for whatever reason; maybe it’s something to do with the people he used to live with.

Despite your offer to help him rent a van to move his furniture in, he refused, saying that he barely had any stuff to bring anyway. Indeed, he seems to have no items at all, at least in shared areas. Never leaves dishes in the sink, or lets the countertops get grimy. His giant platform Dr Martens live neatly by the front door, sometimes the only indicator he’s home. (What did he say his job was? Security guard? It’s hard to imagine him doing any sort of running in shoes like those.) It’s almost like living by yourself, which suits you just fine. Your work and social life keeps you busy enough, anyway.

One night, Choso comes home late from a game of mahjong, stalking down the corridor to your apartment at the end of it, shoulders hunched to his ears. Mahito is a terrible loser, and after Choso had beaten him for three rounds straight, he flipped the table, sending pieces scattered everywhere. He’d used the resulting argument to silently slip out of the rear entrance. The curses will give him shit for it whenever he shows up next, but whatever - it’s not like they’re particularly friendly to him either way.

When he unlocks the front door, you’re the last thing he expects to see. It’s midnight on a Saturday: he’s gleaned enough of your schedule to understand that you were usually asleep or out with friends at this time.

You’re sitting on the windowsill, leaning with your head out the window, blowing grey smoke down at the late-night passersby below you. Your heels had been kicked off at the door - he nearly stepped on them as he walked in - but you’re still in your nice clothes; a tight pair of trousers hug your hips, flaring out at the calf. Make your legs look longer. He’d never really paid attention to how you, or anyone else, looked, but there’s something about seeing you backlit by the Tokyo skyline that makes his mouth run dry.

He tries to close the door quietly, slink off to his bedroom like he always does, but the sound of the lock turning makes you jump and turn around, half-smoked joint still clutched between your fingers.

“Choso!” you exclaim, holding the cig up to your lips and taking a pull. “Fancy seeing you here.”

He pauses halfway across the room, trying not to let his mouth slacken at the sight of you in your little halter top, the bare line of your neck and shoulders a tease in the golden glow.

“Sorry,” you smile hazily, smoke emitting from your mouth and nose as you speak. Like a dragon. “I’m a terrible roommate. Shoulda smoked this outside, just didn’t realise you were gonna be back.”

“It’s fine,” Choso tells you, unable to stop himself staring at the line of your cleavage spilling over your tiny top. He could swear you’d noticed in your inebriated state, maybe even folded one arm under your breasts to push them up further just because you knew he was looking. “I don’t even know what that is,” he admits, gesturing at the smoky halo surrounding you.

“ What ?!” you giggle, making his cheeks redden the same shade as his eyelids. “Well, this one’s out,” you say, hopping off the windowsill and chucking the stub out of the window behind you. “But you can join me next time. If you wanna…”

Even he can’t miss the suggestion in your words. You’re leaning against the door of your bedroom, smiling softly at him in the half-darkness, and God… you look so pretty.

A beat passes. “Good night, Choso,” you say, swinging the door open and disappearing into your room.

He should’ve said something - anything - other than standing there gormless, staring at you. But instead, he watches the door shut, the lock clicking as you push it closed.

Having only gained a physical form recently, Choso has never been with anyone else before; he isn’t sure what to expect or how to do it. But, after that night, he starts to get urges. He starts to wonder what it might be like to sleep in the same bed as you, waking up in a tangled mess of limbs. How your lips might feel against his own, what it would be like to run his fingers along the lovely expanse of your neck and shoulders. He feels insatiable, going to bed with a knot of desire in his stomach unlike any feeling he’d had before.

That night, he dreams of you. Undressed, alluring and golden with the Tokyo night skyline behind you. On top, underneath, any way you wanted him - he’d do it. He isn’t sure what exactly his desires are picturing, but it makes him wake up flushed and with a hardness between his legs that feels good and sensitive to touch. He feels more connected to the world than he has done since his incarnation, when he awoke in a cold sweat with Mahito and Geto leering over him.

Yeah, something about this… it feels human.

“I need to know about sex.”

“I’m leaving,” Jogo announces, getting up from the couch and sweeping his robes out of the room.

Choso made sure to ask when Geto was out of earshot: the curse user was predictably both perplexed and disgusted when he realised Choso had begun living with a human. He felt pretty smart when he’d explained away it as reconnaissance, but he knew that Geto would catch on pretty quickly if he heard him asking about something as human as sex.

Mahito guffaws and stretches his legs out in front of him. “This is what you finally speak up about?” he asks through sobs, clutching his stomach like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

Choso crosses his arms defensively, blowing a stray piece of fringe out of his eyes. As Mahito shakes his shoulder, still crying with laughter, he’s reminded of exactly why he’d decided to rent with a human in the first place.

“You’re one-hundred and fifty years old and never even watched porn?” Mahito grins at him, leaning over to stare at Choso with his chin propped on his hand.

Choso shakes his head, deciding not to point out that he didn’t have access to anything outside of his domain for the first century and a half of his life (and also that he has no idea what porn even is).

“You gotta girlfriend you wanna impress?” Mahito twirls a lock of hair around his finger, and Choso knows he’s pushing for any kind of reaction from him. “Do you death paintings even have the equipment for that?” he adds, eying Choso up and down as he sits rigidly beside him.

Instead of giving in, Choso shrugs as noncommittally as possible and says: “Just curious.”

Mahito’s eyes narrow in suspicion, and he lets his arms stretch out unnaturally to grab the laptop from on top of the coffee table, pulling it back into his lap and opening it. He’s typing so frantically that Choso thinks that the keyboard might set alight, then leans on the volume button for a moment until tinny voices erupt from the shitty speakers.

Mahito shoves the laptop onto Choso’s knees and leans over his shoulder, grinning. It’s a woman wearing a lacy bra and underwear set, talking breathily to a man wearing a suit and tie. Both their acting is terrible, and Choso is wholly unconvinced that they even like each other-

“Ugh, we can skip past the boring bit-“ Mahito reaches over and spams the fast forward icon on screen. The woman is now on all fours, her ass in the air as the man starts thrusting against it. “That’s sex,” Mahito tells him, desire dripping from his voice as they both watch the man onscreen grip the woman’s hips, his cock driving into her as she makes those ridiculous, put-on sounds every time he pulls out.

Choso’s eyes flick over the screen, eyes narrowing and lip curling. This woman looks nothing like you; this isn’t right at all. He hisses and slams the laptop shut, pushing it back to the other side of the sofa.

Mahito snorts with laughter again and backs away from Choso, smirking viciously. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, curse. Good luck with your woman.”

Okay, so trying to learn about sex in a straightforward way isn’t going to be possible. Choso is going to need to become a little more creative in his methods.

That fruitless conversation with Mahito has done nothing to make his feelings subside. He comes back to the apartment in the middle of the night again, hoping for a repeat of your previous encounter. It doesn’t happen, of course, but that sweet perfume you wear lingers on the couch, and it’s enough to have him laying in bed biting his pillow, praying that you aren’t home to hear his noises through the walls.

He’s acting irrational - it’s completely unlike him. He sneaks into your bedroom during your working hours, just to look over your stuff, needing to find out everything about you.

Choso starts with your desk, piled high with papers that he’s careful to put back in the same place he found them. He discovers a folder full of documents relating to your job: plans, numbers, proposals. None of it means anything to him, so he figures you’re probably pretty smart. He sees a draft of a manga you’ve been working on. He recalls you saying you worked in publishing at some point, but he never realised you wanted to be an artist as well. It’s a horror, with grotesque expressions staring at him blankly from the page. Humans are so confusing. He sees these same faces at every stupid meeting Geto organises with his fellow curses, doesn’t get why on Earth people would want to read about stuff like him.

When he opens the top drawer of your dresser, his mouth goes dry. He sees your panties in there, some pairs so small he could barely imagine them covering you properly-

Fuck! The hardness between his legs returns at the thought. He does a quick hand gesture to get the blood flowing away from his cock and back to his brain, and gives a silent thanks (or curse) to whoever’s looking down on him that he doesn’t need to see you too much. That might be too much for his dick to handle.

But just because he doesn’t run into you all that often doesn’t mean he doesn’t hear you. If he’s at the apartment late at night, when you’ve turned in for the evening and are hanging out in your room, sometimes he can hear an audible buzzing coming from your shared wall. Curious, he presses an ear to it and hears such amazing sounds spilling from your room, whines and moans that are so real and honest. That’s what sex is meant to sound like, he thinks. It’s completely unlike that stupid video Mahito forced him to watch.

God. There’s no way he’s getting over this any time soon.

It’s a Friday evening, and you’ve taken the subway straight home from work. It’s been a long week, and you’re exhausted, nearly falling asleep standing up on the packed train. You unlock the apartment door, shutting it quietly behind you, and slip off your loafers, placing them tidily next to Choso’s platforms on the doormat. You roll your shoulders once you’ve hung up your blazer, ready to order a takeout and curl up on the sofa with the most brain-cauterising TV you can find.

A high-pitched moan echoes from the other room.

You jump, shoulders immediately raised. You’ve heard of strange occurrences happening across Tokyo recently, but have paid it no mind; supernatural gossip has never been of interest to you. Now, though, you’re nervous, stepping as quietly across the room as you can in your socks. If there was a break-in-

Another groan, deeper this time, followed by a tiny whimper.

In fact, as you approach Choso’s bedroom at the end of the corridor, the noises only become louder, and it’s increasingly obvious what’s really going on. Morbid curiosity guides your feet before you can think about what you’re actually about to run into. Before you realise it, you’re standing outside of his closed bedroom door with your ear pressed to it, trying to quieten your nervous breathing.

You should step away, go make some noise in the kitchen or start running a shower so he realises you’re home. But, still, your feet remain firmly planted to the floor, listening to those gorgeous moans emerging from your flatmate’s bedroom. Your mind wanders: what he’s wearing, if his hair is hanging loose around his shoulders, how those sleepy eyes look screwed shut as he moans your name-

Wait- my name?

You blink, snapping out of your head, and listen again. Shit. No- it was your name, and the moans and whimpers are spilling out faster and higher now.

You hear his bed creak underneath his weight, a grunt, and low, laboured breathing.

“Fuck…” you whisper, biting your lip as realisation hits you. He just came- he just came , and your name was on his lips.

A strangled, panicked cry from the other side of the door: “W-what? Someone there?”

You stay silent, trying to back away as quickly and quietly as possible. You barely make it a few steps before it’s ripped open in front of you, with Choso standing behind it, leaning on the doorframe with his head low. His cheeks are flushed pink against his pale skin, ponytails loose and dishevelled. His chest is still heaving, and he plays with the hem of his purple t-shirt, unable to look you in the eye.

“I-I didn’t see anything, I just came home and-“ You step back and hold your hands up in surrender.

“How… long were you standing there?” he interrupts you in a low voice.

“I- erm… look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“

He begins to shut the door again, eyes planted firmly on the floorboards, but something possesses you to hold your arm out in front of you, pushing back on it.

“What are you doing?” he asks, narrowing his eyes. His shoulders are high, defensive.

“You- you said my name,” you begin, looking up at him. “How long have you-“

“I’m sorry,” he says hoarsely, pushing his fringe off his forehead with his palm. “I… don’t wish to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, Choso, I- I’m not uncomfortable with it,” you say shyly, feeling your own cheeks heat up with the admission. “Erm… maybe I could come in and we could talk about it?”

Choso’s face looks like he’s had ice water poured over him: you’re not uncomfortable about this at all ?

“Okay, I guess you can come in,” he says reluctantly, with both an expression and tone like he’s expecting a slap to the face.

He opens the door and moves into his bedroom to sit down on the edge of the double bed, his legs dangling off the side. His bedroom is the same size as yours, but with none of the personality. You kinda expected from the way he dresses that it would have band posters everywhere, a PlayStation, maybe some nerdy figurines or manga on display. But, the walls and shelves are almost bare. You take a seat beside him, careful not to encroach on his personal space.

“Do you wanna explain what’s been going on?” you ask, tucking one knee under your chin as you sit down. “How long have you…?”

His face flushes red. “… A while, okay,” he says. It sounds like it almost pains him to say the words.

“And how long is-“

“A few months,” he sighs, pulling on a stringy piece of his fringe. “I-I’m really sorry… I just didn’t want to- and now-“ He turns his head to face you, then immediately looks back down at the floor when he realises you’re staring at him.

“Ever since…?”

“Yeah- you just… you were- are so beautiful,” he says, steeling himself to look across at you again. “And I… couldn’t help myself. Didn’t know how to talk to you properly, so…”

“Choso, I-“ You take a pause, try to word your thoughts correctly because he looks like he’s about to flee at any moment. “I would have kissed you that night, y’know?” you say honestly, nudging his side. “Just… you’re barely around. Didn’t know-“

“Really?” he says quietly, his heartbeat growing faster. How could he have been so stupid? Kissing is something Choso has barely even considered, he’s been so busy thinking with his dick, but now…

“Well, why didn’t you say anything then? I wasn’t exactly being coy,” you tell him, “It would’ve been easier than sneaking into my bedroom when I wasn’t home-“

“I only did that once,” he lies, ashamed at having his actions called out so blatantly. “And, besides, we’re roommates. Didn’t want to make it weird… And… well…” He looks off at the wall, lost for words.

“What is it, Choso?” you ask, gingerly placing a hand on his knee. He tenses under your touch, but doesn’t pull away.

“I’ve never… done stuff with anyone before,” he says, his face bright red as he looks at you.

“ Really ?” you ask, incredulous. Now that is a surprise, but you try not to let it show. He’s a really attractive guy, especially seeing him up close like this, but maybe with his shyness and awkward working hours it’s been difficult for him to find a girlfriend.

He turns away again.

“That came out badly, sorry,” you apologise, shifting a little closer to him, “There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin. We all had to start somewhere.” You give his knee a quick pat for good measure.

“It’s not just that,” he tells you quietly, looking back down at his lap. “I’ve never done anything -“

“Have you never even kissed a girl, Choso?” you interrupt, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

He tilts his head slightly in your direction and shakes his head in response.

“Well… would you like to try?” you ask, tentative. Your hand stays on his knee: his body is warm, almost as if he’s running a fever.

He starts with your words, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “Um… what? Really?” he stammers out, eyebrows furrowing like it’s the most confusing request he’s ever heard. His mind goes back to Mahito, and to the curse’s taunts at even the idea of him being with a woman. “This is not a joke, correct?”

He sounds so scared that you have to reach out, smooth his fringe down on his hot forehead. “Of course not, Choso,” you tell him, shuffling a little closer next to him. “I mean it… I’ve been thinking about this stuff too, so…”

His eyes rake over you, but he doesn’t pull away. This is a good start.

“Do you wanna try it?” you repeat, eyes boring into his violet ones. He really is otherworldly.

“I… I am not sure how-“

“Just… put your hands on my waist-“ You grab his big, warm hands on your own and arrange them just so, feeling the way his fingers instinctively flex and grab at the soft flesh. “-And I’ll put mine around your shoulders.”

Doing so forces you together, hips against one another’s on the bed. His eyes rake up and down your body, lingering on every part you’re both connected, finally focusing on your lips. He looks down at you, nervous.

“It’s okay… just let me take the lead,” you tell him.

He nods in response: “Of course.”

You finally close the gap, lips meeting his. He’s ridiculously warm, almost feverishly hot, and when you’re this close you can smell… copper? Maybe you’re going crazy: you haven’t kissed someone for a good few months. Maybe all guys smell like this, and your memory is just deceiving you.

The kiss is messy at first, to be expected. Your teeth collide, making you both wince against each other, and you aren’t used to your faces being close together, so your noses keep bumping. After a few moments of slightly awkward kissing, your lips begin meshing together, moving fluidly in rhythm. One of your hands moves to the base of his neck, gently massaging his scalp with your fingertips. He lets out a gentle sigh at the feeling, causing the kiss to become slightly more open-mouthed. You tilt your head, cheekily catching his bottom lip between your teeth. It makes him gasp again, and his fingers spasm aimlessly on your waist.

He pulls away first, breathless and flushed. You feel a little smug for getting him so flustered from a messy first kiss. “Was that… good?” he asks, eyes only focusing on your spit-shiny lips.

“Really good,” you smirk at him. “You wanna make it even better?”

He barely has time to nod before your lips are pushing against his again, hands flying to his hair to press your fingers to his scalp, massaging any tension away. Evidently, he needs it, because he lets out a pretty, high-pitched moan almost immediately as you do it, fingers digging into the skin of your hips and thighs. You smile against his mouth, shifting your body weight until you have him pinned to the bed underneath you, a thigh on either side of his slim hips.

Your tongue pokes at his lips, asking him for entry. He parts them, moans again when he feels your tongues press together. He’s so sensitive, it drives you wild. You want to put your hands all over him, just to see which spots get him to react the most.

Choso’s own hands have started to wander, marvelling at the softness of your body. Politely, his fingers only travel around your waist and stomach, as though he’s determined not to push your boundaries or make you uncomfortable.

“Do you wanna see more , Choso?” you purr in his ear, giving the lobe a gentle tug with your canines that makes him gasp and grip his fingers tighter around his waist. “Well?” you prompt, pulling away to look down at those big, lilac eyes.

He nods frantically, fingers tracing the front buttons of your blouse, confused about where to begin.

“You can take it off, if you want-“

He doesn’t need to be told twice; shaking hands reach for the line of buttons, so desperate you half expect him to rip open the front of your top entirely (not that you’d be complaining).

After he undoes the front, you slip the blouse from your shoulders and toss it on Choso’s bedroom floor. Your bra is red, a size too small, your tits spilling over the cups a little. He stares at your cleavage, the contrast between your skin and the fabric mesmerising to him, and reaches up to trace along the top of the cups.

He presses his fingertips into the flesh of your tits cautiously, marvelling at the way the soft tissue gives in to his touch. He shudders beneath you, and you laugh softly, clamping your thighs around his pelvis and tracing a line up his torso.

“You don’t just have to kiss on the mouth, you know?” you say, looking down to see his mouth nearly dropping open at your words.

You unclasp your bra to save him the hassle, pull it off and throw it behind you. Your nipples are hardening from the stale air of the bedroom and Choso’s needy gaze, staring up at your tits like they’re the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen.

“I always thought you were so beautiful…” he finally croaks out, hands snaking nervously up your torso to cup your breasts, giving them a delicate grope. “Every part of you is so soft…”

You giggle at his words, smoothing his dark hair away from his face to see him properly, take in the wonder in his expression as he massages your chest with his palms. His fingers catch your nipples and you hiss as a wave of pleasure washes over you, the noise making him stop and look up at you cautiously, like he’s scared to hurt you.

“No, no, no-“ you reassure him, guiding his hands back over your nipples as you sit up properly on his waist. He makes a tiny, high-pitched whine as his pelvis takes your body weight. “I like it- do it again.”

His eyes narrowed, scanning your reaction as his fingertips brush over your hand nipples, the light stimulation making your back arch prettily.

“I am allowed to kiss them?” he asks, tilting his head as his index finger circles around your areola, his other hand propping you up on your ribcage.

You nod, slipping off of his waist to kneel beside him on the bed. He sits up and ducks his head to get level with your breasts, a hand on either side of your waist as he presses a tiny kiss to the top of your boob, pulling back immediately to gauge your reaction.

“No, no- I mean my nipples , Choso-“ you say, moving your hand to grab around one of his ponytails and guide his mouth to the sensitive buds.

His lips close around your nipple, eager to make more of those little noises spill from your lips. His tongue drags tortuously slowly over it, which makes you gasp, and then he releases and goes back to pressing his lips against the flesh. He kisses along the full expanse of your tit until his lips meet your other nipple, sucking softly and looking up at your face with those big tired eyes.

His tongue swipes over the bud, his lips still wrapped around it, every pass making you gasp and bite your lip to control your whimpers. You pull his ponytail, making him groan and push his face closer against your tit. His hands find your waist again, squeezing your hips through your work trousers, tracing the line where the waistband meets your stomach.

You laugh breathlessly, threading your fingers through his free hair as he moves over to your neglected nipple, repeating the process of sucking and flicking it with his tongue, nuzzling your boob with his cheek. “You a boob guy, then?”

Choso pulls away reluctantly: “I-I suppose…”

His response makes you chuckle again, and you pull him up again to kiss his lips. He leans in instantly, like he hasn’t kissed you for years, and nearly pushes you back with the force. He’s considerably stronger than you thought, hands getting rougher with your tits when he reaches up to play with them again.

“Y’know…” you say between kisses, hand slipping under the hem of his purple t-shirt, “I don’t think it’s too fair for me to be topless when you’ve still got that shirt on.”

He pulls away, eyes narrowed. “You want to… see my body?”

You press your palm to his pale cheek, thumb smoothing over his sharp cheekbone. “Is that okay, Choso?”

After all, this guy is twenty-something and hadn’t even kissed someone before today - is it rude if you don’t want to get into that baggage when you’ve already got your tits out?

He doesn’t respond. Instead, his hands push yours away and he pulls the t-shirt off of his head, throwing it away to join your work blouse on his floor.

“You’re fucking ripped ,” you say, hand immediately going back to his torso to admire the hard lines of his abs, a peek of a well-defined Adonis belt just visible above the waistband of his pyjamas. Choso laughs nervously, stomach pulling in self-consciously at the attention. “Why are you ripped? You secretly a model or something?”

“I… erm…” He pushes his fringe off of his face and looks up at you with those big eyes. “I said I do security work-“

“I haven’t seen you on any adverts…” you ponder aloud, ignoring his reminder. Your fingers catch on a particularly gruesome scar on his hip bone. He’s got gnarly cuts all over his arms and torso, actually, all in various stages of healing. Weird.

“I- uh-“ He grabs your wrist nervously, pushing it away as you look up at him with half-lidded eyes. “Why- why are you looking at me like that?” he finally gets out, placing your hand back on your lap.

“Have you looked into a mirror before?” you laugh, the sound going directly to his cock. “You’re really sexy, Choso.”

His jaw drops, heart hammering so loudly you could definitely hear it if you pressed an ear to his sternum. He flounders, mouth opening and closing like a puppet, disbelieving of your words. You’re human . You shouldn’t be telling him stuff like this- you should fear him. But you’re sitting beside him, half-naked, staring at him like he’s the only person in the world.

“Cat got your tongue?” you purr, pushing back on his shoulders to get him to lay down. He relents immediately, big hands ghosting back to your waist as you straddle him again.

“I… um… you distracted me,” he says, trying to keep his eyes on your face but unable to keep them from trailing down to your breasts. “With your body,” he clarifies, squeezing your hips as you grind them against his.

“Your dirty talk needs some work,” you hum, gently raking your nails down his pecs, the light pain making him shiver beneath you. “You should tell me what you were thinking about, when you were jerking off.”

“I, um…” he tries his best to make eye contact with you, grabbing the soft flesh of your hips each time you shuffle down on his. “Th-that night, a month ago… you were smoking in the living room… and I came home. You were very… pretty… in your outfit…”

He trails off and hisses when your ass makes contact with his hardening cock, digging his nails in. He turns his head to the side, unable to make eye contact with you. His face is bright red, body even warmer due to your interrogation.

“And what were you thinking about doing, hmm?” Your hand finds his jaw, making him swallow nervously as you turn his face to look at you.

“Umm… what you would look like undressed,” he admits, his shyness making your heart flutter. “And… you on top, like this… or underneath… anything you wanted.”

“Anything I want…” you repeat, scratching your nails down his torso again to make him hiss and shudder. Your underwear was growing impossibly wetter with his words, so close to the fantasies you’d been having with your vibrator in bed that it’s difficult to get your next words out: “You wanna make me feel good, Choso?”

Hearing your name fall from your lips in that teasing tone makes him shiver again, wide-eyed. He nods frantically, messing up his hair against the pillow even more. He looks so good like this: dishevelled and desperate for your touch. Hungry.

You pull him up and shift off his lap, rearranging yourselves so that you’re laying down with your head on his pillows and he’s kneeling meekly between your legs.

“Take off my trousers,” you order, enjoying this new-found dominance. In previous hookups, you’ve tended to just go along with whatever the other person wanted. It’s pretty rare to find someone whose fantasies seemingly exactly match your own.

His big hands fly to your waistband, deftly undoing your button and fly. You lift your hips a little to help him shift them down your legs, and you hear him let out an audible whine at the sight of your underwear: a little lace pair, your cunt just visible through the fabric, with a huge wet patch at the centre.

“You’re so beautiful…” he groans.

“See? You turned me on,”  you laugh softly as he pulls your work clothes down the rest of the way, chucking them off the bed behind him. He looks up at you with half-lidded eyes. “You wanna try something else, Choso? Wanna try going down on me?”

“I-I’m not sure where to…” His gaze is fixed to your underwear, and you half expect a trail of drool to start falling from his lips at the sight.

“Take them off,” you say, lifting your hips again. He obeys immediately, whining again at the sight of your bare cunt, a thin line of slick attaching it to your panties as he slowly pulls them off. A tease. “I’ll teach you how, mmkay?” you say, reaching up to stroke along his cheek. “You wanna try it?”

“Y-yes… please,” he says hoarsely, dragging his eyes away to look at your face again.

“Kiss up my thighs a bit… go slow-“ You bend your knees and spread your legs a bit wider, feet planted on Choso’s mattress.

He audibly moans at the sight of your slick hole, immediately getting on his knees and grabbing under your thighs to pull you closer towards him.

“You’ll know when you’re doing a good job-“ you say, hand tangling in his hair as his lips meet the soft skin of your inner thighs, making you shiver as his hot breath hits them. “-I’ll guide you.”

He kisses up your inner thighs, sucking gently on your flesh when he realises how much it makes you squirm. His fringe tickles against the sensitive skin, making you whine and try to pull him closer to your pussy by one of his ponytails. He pulls back briefly to look up at you from between your legs, like he’s waiting for you to tell him it’s okay or something (if you weren’t already on your back, the sight probably would have been enough to make you weak at the knees).

“D-do you wanna?” you ask softly, unable to keep the tremor out of your voice.

He nods, then looks back down at your cunt, like he’s lost. Gingerly, you reach a hand down and spread yourself open with your fingers, hissing at the contact with your desperate pussy. “Um… use your tongue… and your mouth. I’ll tell you what I like-“

Choso uses his own hands to spread your pussy open, staring at it again for a few seconds before his head finally, blissfully, makes its way between your legs and licks an experimental stripe down your folds, his hot breath fanning the sensitive area when he pulls away.

“Mhmm- keep going,” you say breathlessly, pulling his mouth against you using his ponytails.

He does the same again, licks up and down slowly. He catches on pretty quickly that his tongue against the little bud at the top of your pussy is making your breath catch in your throat, and he eagerly starts playing with it, pressing wet kisses to the sensitive area.

“Ngh- Choso- not too much,” you whine, thighs clamping down on his head, “That’s my clit… really good when you touch there- go slow.”

Choso nods as best he can, his tongue just circling the area. He wraps his lips around your clit for a sucking kiss whenever he feels like your noises are subsiding, tongue flicking cruelly over it. How is this his first time? And he’s moaning in time with you, like he’s enjoying this just as much as you are. Most guys treat going down on a woman like a chore; a last-ditch effort to make her cum, and give up after two minutes of refusing to take direction. There’s something special about a guy being so turned on by eating pussy he’s whimpering and grinding against the mattress from it.

“Fuck- Choso, your fingers-“ you cry out, hands gripping ruined ponytail entwined with your fingers.

He pulls away, cheeks slick and red, a trail of your wetness hanging from his lips. “W-where?” he asks, moving his hand to stroke through your folds, studying your face for any reaction.

“Lower- ah, fuck, yes-“ you whine and grind down against his touch when he finds your hole. “Um- put a finger inside-“ you whisper. “A-and keep going down on me. Please. I wanna cum-”

He nods, immediately lowering his head to take his place between your thighs, his finger sweeping your walls like he’s experimenting as he sucks around your clit again.

“Ah- another finger, please-“

After some manoeuvring, Choso puts two fingers inside you, gently scissoring your tight walls as he pushes them in. The action combined with his tongue gets your legs shaking, slung over his shoulders to keep him in his place. He sweeps his tongue through your folds again, picking up more of your slick as he does so.

“Ngh- fuck. I’m close, Choso- just… keep going-“

He moans again with your words, burying his face impossibly deeper between your legs, fingers stroking against the spot inside you that gets your legs shaking while his mouth continues the torment of your clit.

You gasp and moan as your walls tighten around his digits, toes curling as your orgasm takes you. You release your grip on his hair as your eyes roll back, his continuous licking and stroking proving too much for you.

“Sensitive-“ you say gingerly, pushing back on his forehead.

He reluctantly pulls away and slowly removes his fingers from between your legs, looking almost concerned as he stares at you with shiny lips. You shuffle back on your elbows to look up at him properly.

“Sorry-“ he says, pulling the hair ties off of his ruined ponytails, combing his non-wet hand through the sleek, dark locks. “You taste too good…”

If your clit wasn’t still aching, you would’ve pulled him back between your legs right then.

“No, no- it was so good,” you tell him, sitting up properly to kiss his still-pink cheeks. You run a hand up his hot abs. “Just- I came at the end, so you did a really amazing job. Promise.”

“… Thank you,” he says, maybe the ghost of a smile playing on his usually hard-set mouth.

“Do- do you want me to do anything for you now?” you ask tentatively, fingers ghosting over the waistband of his pyjama bottoms.

“I- I just want to make you feel good again,” he admits, looking up at you through his eyelashes.

You look down at him, seeing the neediness in his eyes. You wonder absentmindedly if he’s still hard - the thought crosses your mind that maybe he came in his boxers while he was eating you out, and you swallow imagining it.

“You wanna keep going?” you ask, gradually moving your hand down to rest on his upper thigh. “If it’s too much-“

“No,” he says, shaking his head. His hair’s gotten so messy, and you want to comb your hands through it. “I would like to… continue.”

“Mhmm…” you hum, snapping the elastic waistband of his pyjamas right over his Adonis ‘v’. “You wanna take these off, then? Gonna be tricky if I can’t see what I’m working with-“

Wordlessly, he slips his pyjama bottoms off, leaving him in just his boxers. He’d be embarrassed about the wet stain on the front if you weren’t looking at it so hungrily. You stare at him, admiring the hard cords of muscle pulled taut across his thighs with anxiousness. He looks at you with half-lidded eyes and pushes a strand of hair behind his ear. “Is it… okay?” he asks breathlessly.

“Oh, Choso,” you sigh, leaning in to give him another kiss. Your hands find his jawline, tracing along the sharp line before you pull away. One of your hands meets his thigh, feeling how strong his form is. He shivers under your touch - must be sensitive. “I really want you inside me.”

“Oh- um-“ He’s caught off guard, unable to look you in the eyes as you pull back, a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t-“

“If I get on top-“ God, your thighs are getting wetter just thinking about it. “-I can set the pace… show you what I like.”

“I would like that too,” he says simply, eyes big and round.

You decide to tease him a bit more: kiss down his stomach, let your breath ghost over the wet patch in front of his briefs. He’s less hard now, but that doesn’t matter too much. You slip your fingers into the waistband, pulling his underwear down and off. You turn away for a moment to chuck his pyjama bottoms and underwear off the bed to join your clothes on the floor. When you look back, Choso’s half sitting up on his elbows, looking at you shyly as he rubs a hand over his face, undoubtedly the biggest cock you’ve ever seen hanging heavily between his thighs.

“You’re already hard again?” you laugh incredulously, running your hands along his length experimentally. “You didn’t warn me how much you were packin’-“

He blushes and writhes under your touch, thanking whoever is looking down on him that you were turned around for long enough that you didn’t spot the quick hand movement to get the blood flowing back to his cock again. “Is that… a bad thing?” he asks, a little anxious, still half-covering the bloodmark on his face. If you noticed it move, you didn’t say anything; too busy examining the prominent vein snaking its way up the length of his shaft.

“No, no- God, you’re so innocent, it’s really cute,” you grin, feeling immensely lucky that it’s you who gets to be his first time. “But, Choso, your dick is, like, really big.”

Your fingers barely touch around his girth, and it’s longer than any you’ve taken before. Pale as the rest of him, his tip bright pink from how turned on he is. His cheeks go impossibly redder at your words, stunned that his body could be so impressive to a human. He watches in awe as you stroke him up and down, toes already curling from the softness of your hand wrapped around his length.

You shift, straddling his pelvis again, reaching a hand between your own legs to check if you’re still wet enough to take him.

“I don’t have any condoms, but don’t worry, I have an IUD-“ you reassure him, wrapping your hands gently around his swollen cock, making him whine with the sensation.

“A what?” The words come out strangled as you squeeze his dick, a dribble of precum forming at the head.

“Um, it means you can cum inside me and-“

Oh. Oh-h-h. Those words set off something in the human part of his brain, something… hungry. You look down at him, waiting for a response while his self-control all but turns to soup between his ears.

“Oh. Yes…” He looks like he’s trying to be nonchalant, which is a pretty hard task when someone is lubing up your dick with your own precum. “That would be… good.”

You chuckle softly, smoothing one hand through his hair as you move to hover above his heavy cock.

“Are you still okay?” you check in quickly, running your nails down his torso again.

“Yes,” he replies instantly, staring up at you with awe as you line his dick up with your pussy. “I just… want to feel you.”

With the all-clear, you sink onto him, just the head at first. “Y-you’re really big,” you tell him, biting your lip to get you through the burn. “So we’ll have to go slow at first… get used to it.”

He nods, hands tracing up from your hips to your waist to your tits, giving them a little squeeze as you sink down further, touch relenting as his eyes roll back in his head.

You whine as you seat yourself down fully on him, grinding your hips against his to get used to the stretch. “Ngh… fuck, Choso!”

“Are you okay?” His voice is strained, hoarse, hands finding your waist once more to knead your flesh between his fingers.

“Feels good…” you laugh nervously, “Your dick is just fucking huge.”

“S-sorry,” he says sheepishly, turning his head to the side with a hiss as you shift your hips again.

“Don’t need to be sorry-“ You grab his jaw with one hand, forcing him to face you again. He blinks up at you, chewing his bottom lip. “-Gonna start moving now… that okay?”

He nods as best he can with you holding his head like that, eyes rolling back as they flutter shut when you move your hips upwards, leaning over him.

“You’re so tight…” he whispers out, eyes clamped shut, one hand doing a little tug-and-release motion on the duvet.

You can still feel the burn as you sink back onto his pelvis, and you circle your hips against his for a few seconds, trying to adjust to his size.

It doesn’t take too long for you to find your way, lifting your hips slightly and then sinking back down, letting his cock stretch you out completely. You bend at the waist, adjusting your legs so you can keep your rhythm as you kiss him on the lips. He’s whimpering your name into your mouth, tongue shyly poking against your lips to touch your own. The kiss is sloppy, both of you sighing each time your hips drop down onto his.

“Can touch me if you wanna-“ you tell him, leaning back and lifting yourself up so that his tip is just barely inside of you. He squirms beneath you, hips shuddering to find your cunt again, making you hiss with the change of angle.

Your hands find his shoulders, kneading the hard muscle with your palms as you suddenly sit back down on his dick again, eliciting the most beautiful, high-pitched moan from his lips. Your tits bounce with each motion, his eyes unable to decide what he wants to look at more: your face, your chest, or his cock disappearing inside you every time you drop onto it.

Seemingly snapping out of his reverie, he moves his hands from where they’ve been lying awkwardly at his sides, one massaging your boobs and the other on your hips, feeling how your movements make the meat of your ass ripple and shake. Every time his cock sinks back into you, he moans and trembles. You’re impressed he’s lasted more than ten seconds, considering he hadn’t even been kissed before today, and the fact that your body seems to be turning his brain into mush.

You start grinding onto him to give your thighs a break, just sitting on his cock and grinding your hips together. You tilt forward, giving your clit a pleasant bit of friction as it rubs against his pubic bone, nails scratching down his chest again. His dick is so big you swear you can feel it pushing against your cervix, might even be able to feel it moving inside of you if you put a hand on your belly.

“If I go forwards- you wanna try moving your hips?” you ask through a gasp as your clit hits his pelvis again. “Wanna kiss you-“

“Y-yes-“ he replies, twitching inside of you, touching against your walls just right that it makes you moan.

You lean forward, chest to chest, lifting your hips and tilting your ass up just enough so he can start thrusting into you. Your lips meet, and you moan into his mouth with the change of angle, the kiss spit-slick and messy as your tongues reach into each other’s mouths.

His pacing is awkward at first, unsure of how fast to drill into you. He quickly learns that you like it when he thrusts deep inside, pushing at your cervix, stretching you to your limits and then pulling out almost all the way to tease your entrance. You can feel your wetness being pushed out of you every time he pulls his hips down, spilling out onto his cock and the bedsheets beneath you.

“Fuck- really good,” you whine as he drills his dick deep inside you, pausing his thrusts to grind up teasingly. His eyes widen every time your walls flutter around him, and you’re pretty sure he’s not going to last much longer.

To be honest, neither are you - you’ve never found it easy to orgasm when on top before, but something about the angle Choso is hitting makes you feel as though sparks are going to start coming out of your fingertips, toes curling with every deep stroke he hits inside you.

The only warning you’re able to give him is a “Close- you?” groaned against his neck as you suck a kiss there. Suddenly, your body is shaking, arms barely able to support you as you orgasm, moaning his name into his ear when you reach your peak. Your walls tighten around him, and he lets out a final, sweet moan as he spills into you a few moments later, his cum so hot you feel like you’re going to burn up from it.

“Oh, God-“ Your name falls from Choso’s lips like a prayer: this is how it’s meant to be. Not fucking his fist to the scent of your perfume, but you, sprawled in his bed with him inside of you. Better than he had ever allowed himself to imagine.

“That’s so weird,” you laugh, sinking down on top of him to lay on his chest, his dick softening slowly inside you. You’re reluctant to move; he’s intensely warm, and you’d rather not get cum all over his sheets. “I swear at one point I saw your tattoo move-“

“W-what ?” Choso says, shifting below you. “Oh…” Realisation hits as he traces the bloodmark across his nose, laughing awkwardly along with you. “Yeah… weird-“

You gingerly slide off his cock, making you both whine with the loss of sensation, and roll off to lay beside him, your hand on his chest and thighs clamped together as much as they can, trying not to let his cum dribble out onto the bottom sheet.

“Why’d you just get that one, anyway? Seems a bit extreme for a first tattoo, not that it doesn’t suit you-“

“Um… I was very drunk,” Choso replies, using the most human excuse he can think of.

“Hmm,” you say, vaguely in agreement. “I guess you’d have to be.”

Afterwards, you tell him you’re going to go take a shower, and he follows you in, much to your surprise. The shower is barely big enough for one person, and you keep elbowing him when he rubs soap on your back. You end up sucking him off as he leans against the wall, water trickling down his marble abs as his head tilts back and he makes those amazing high-pitched moans. He kisses you after he cums in your mouth, and, somehow still hard, tries to fuck you against the tiles with your legs wrapped around him. His inexperience shows and he can’t get the angle right, so you drag him out of the bathroom and lay down on the kitchen counter with your legs spread, and he’s eager to comply.

He makes you cum again on his tongue and his cock. 

God, he’s getting good at this. I must be a really great teacher-

Your head is fucking swimming when Choso pulls you back up. You barely make it the few steps from the kitchen before he pulls you down on the sofa and lets you ride him again. Your legs are still jelly from your previous orgasm, so he ends up fucking into you instead, watching your expressions with reverence as he cups a breast in each hand.

“How the hell do you have so much stamina?” you laugh, back in his bed under the duvet, absentmindedly tracing the ‘v’ of his hips as you look up at him. The sheets are sweaty and smell like your perfume and sex. You make a mental note to wash them in the morning. “Are you even human?”

He hums in lieu of a response and starts drawing circles on your back with his fingers. Being able to control his blood flow has its perks.

You think he’s going to return to silence again, but instead he replies, changing the subject:

“Um… Are you doing anything in Shibuya on Halloween night?”