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Yuji’s older brother was a strange, strange man.
You knew that from the very minute he was awkwardly introduced to you.
The exchange itself had been awkwardly brief — a quiet name, a small nod of acknowledgement, and then silence. Yuji had merely scratched the back of his neck with visible discomfort before vaguely explaining that Choso was his brother and that he was “on our side now.”
You had found yourself a little puzzled by his sudden company, not entirely reassured, especially taking into consideration the entire Shibuya shitshow.
Still, stranger things existed within the jujutsu world. You learned quickly not to question every impossible thing placed in front of you, otherwise you’d go insane trying to rationalise it all.
Unfortunately, however, Choso made that to be a rather difficult task for you.
Like some half-feral cat lingering in the rafters of an abandoned house, he always seemed to exist at the edges of things — silent, watchful, distant. Most of the time he kept himself removed from others entirely, lurking in shadows or high places with heavy-lidded eyes fixed somewhere far away. Lazy gaze ironically careful, sharp as he watched from the respective sidelines, from the comfort of afar - away from other company.
Besides Yuji's, of course.
Wherever Yuji went, he was there, following like a bad omen.
Not always obviously, no, sometimes he lurked below the radar, consuming himself in the shroudness buildings supplied. Whether you, Yuji and your other students would be dealing with curses, or just simply walking about, he always remained nearby.
Somehow, the others seemingly never noticed the strange presence that perpetually loomed close by. It made you question if the attention was solely laid upon you - taking into account how intense it felt.
That niggling question would be answered when Choso once came along to kill a high level curse with just you and Yuji. You had found yourself stealing cautious glances at the man.
Only to find him already meeting your gaze, unflinching, fixed and steady. As though he had been watching long before you even noticed.
It wasn’t a one time incident either, you would continually catch him, without fail, in fact.
It got to a point where you could no longer ignore the elephant in the room. You had to pull Yuji aside afterwards to ask about it, unable to coexist with the unshakable uneasiness his presence evoked within you without at least saying something.
Yuji looked immediately mortified.
He remained sheepish as he avoided your eye, sounding utterly shameful as he explained that’s just how he was, especially after his two other brothers were murdered.
Ah, so that was it. Choso was just being overprotective over his little brother, that was all.
And, well, with that explanation smoothing some rather unpleasant creases out, you were a little more understanding about the whole ‘stalking Yuji wherever he went’ thing.
Sure, it was certainly odd, but you were now able to take into account that he was just looking out for his family after dealing with a tragic event, pretty understandable.
Why would he often set his sights on you, though?
You had thought that asking Yuji that would make you sound slightly insensitive, paranoid even - your ego not allowing you to seem nervous before your student.
So you had no other reputable choice but to drop the entire matter completely.
Now, if it had been left at just that, everything would have been fine - maybe even a bit dandy if you were feeling optimistic.
However…
When you were out alone, sometimes that innate, crawling sensation of something watching you from afar would creep over your body and mind.
At first, you thought it was merely a coincidence, your mind just cautioning you to keep on a swivel after being so used to Choso’s ceaseless presence.
But as time went on, that heavy feeling that weighed on you would always eventually return with growing vengeance.
It would evolve. First only persisting around plazas and train stations, then inside intimate, abandoned buildings you liked to sit in for fun.
Until, eventually, not even your apartment felt safe. Which was strange, you lived around the mostly unaffected areas of Tokyo.
When closing all your curtains and blinds didn’t shake off the harrowing curse of eyes swamping your fraying senses, you started fearing you were losing your goddamn mind.
At first, you tried to rationalise it.
You were a sorcerer. Hypervigilance came with the territory. After Shibuya, everyone was on edge in one way or another. Trauma rewired people strangely; perhaps your mind had simply latched onto Choso because he was already unnerving enough on his own.
Maybe you just had an innate, crippling fear of being watched by an unwelcomed second party, and Choso’s appearance simply surfaced that phobia into constant fruition.
…Paranoia didn’t explain consistency, though.
That thought alone helped you come to terms with the fact you were a jujutsu sorcerer; if you felt another presence - especially of the curse kind - then you were being watched.
And the more you thought about things that way, the rational way, there was no mistaking it.
Choso was stalking you.
Once the thought rooted itself inside your mind, there was no clawing it back out.
Every strange occurrence suddenly felt interconnected, stitched together by a thread you’d been too hesitant - too hopeful - to acknowledge before. The lingering sensation at the base of your neck whenever you walked home alone. The flickering of movement in reflective windows. The way crowded streets somehow never swallowed that awful awareness of being watched.
And through all of it, Choso continued acting exactly the same.
Quiet.
Distant.
Watching.
Until one rainy night, he decided to drop the observer role entirely.
You had stopped by at a nearby convenience store after a long day of exterminating curses, exhausted enough that your body felt weighed down by wet clothes and residual cursed energy. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed softly as you wandered half-awake through the aisles collecting instant food and instant coffee.
Normal. Everything had felt painfully, blessedly normal in your exhausted haze.
Until you looked up.
And saw him.
Choso stood at the very end of the aisle. Motionless.
Signature perky pigtails had devolved into two, sad, soggy droops, as dark hair clung damply against the margins of his face, a clear indicator of the weather for that night. Heavy shadows pooled like spilt ink beneath lidded eyes - dull, bistre irises already fixed on you with that same unflinching intensity that always made your stomach tighten unpleasantly.
If this were a more pleasant situation, you would’ve amused yourself by thinking that he looked much alike to a ratty cat, unfortunate enough to have been caught in the rain.
But then you thought about how you hadn’t even sensed him entering - too threadbare to be on your toes like you often would be - and things then became a whole less humorous.
For one horrible second, neither of you moved.
Then, slowly, his gaze dropped. Dragged. Indulgent as they traversed down your ever being. Yet somehow, despite the purposeful heaviness of it, it felt the least bit leering. It's almost clinical, the way he assesses you with no apparent desire or bloodlust.
It was almost like… curiosity. Like this was the first time he’s really been able to take you in.
“...Choso?” you managed cautiously.
His eyes lifted back to yours immediately.
There was no guilt there, no embarrassment at being caught. If anything, he looked almost confused by your apparent discomfort. As though standing silently behind you in a convenience store at nearly midnight was perfectly reasonable behavior.
“You’re alone,” he said simply, husky voice doing little to appease your growing restiveness.
Rain pattered softly against the windows way over past the aisles, almost matching the rhythm of the pounding of blood rushing in your ears.
You forced out a brittle laugh. “Yeeeah… Is, uh, is Yuji nearby?”
A pause.
Then:
“No.”
His answer made your stomach sink further; for the first time since meeting him, Yuji wasn’t involved at all. No little brother to justify his presence. No fighting curses.
Just you.
And him.
You suddenly became hyperaware of how isolated the aisle was, how the store itself was completely empty besides the two of you and the cashier. How broad his shoulders looked, blocking the view behind him. How little expression existed on his face despite the unbearable weight of his stare.
“You shouldn’t walk around alone at night,” Choso said after a moment, voice low and oddly gentle.
Despite yourself, it made something weaken in your stance, slackening bunched up muscles just a tad.
He… genuinely sounded sincere.
That was the problem with Choso; he never gave off malicious intent towards you.
Though, to be fair, oftentimes it was pretty hard to truly get a clear read on the guy, which really didn’t help his case.
Even then, standing there - watching you with eyes too attentive and face far too impassive - there was still something strangely tender about him beneath.
Almost like how he looked at Yuji.
Brows gathering together from a mix of befuddlement and plain offense at the maiden treatment, the corners of your lips sunk.
“I can protect myself, thank you,” you replied firmly, shifting the basket so it rested on your hip, gathering your bearings as you felt a little less weary of his presence. “Why are you stalking me?”
Lips immediately pull down imperceptibly at the accusation. “I’m not.”
A breath skims out past your lips before you can catch it, disbelieving.
“Right. So what do you call this, then?”
“...Observing.”
The word sat horribly in the air between you.
Observing. Such a clinical word seemed so predatory considering the context.
Your brows knitted tighter.
“That’s not better,” you said flatly.
Choso blinked once, slow and heavy. Rainwater still clung to the ends of his urchin hair, slipping off silently onto the convenience store tiles beneath him in pattering intervals. He didn’t seem remotely bothered by the accusation lodged in your tone this time round - for whatever reason.
“I was curious,” he said after a pause. “So I stayed close.”
A chill crept up your spine that had nothing to do with your damp attire.
Curious?
“You don’t understand,” you said slowly, trying to keep your voice level. “Following someone around without them knowing is creepy.”
Another pause.
“I know.”
A blockage lodged itself in your diaphragm at that. The immediate admission threw you off balance more than denial would have.
Choso’s gaze drifted briefly toward your hands where they tightened around the shopping basket before lifting back to your face.
“But I was curious.”
“What? About what?” you asked, frazzled.
“Humanity," he replied simply, as if that word alone would magically clear up any misunderstanding.
Silence stretched like a tearing muscle, agonizingly long and miserable. You simply blinked at him, rapidly, like this was just some sleep deprived hallucination and he’s bound to soon disappear.
“Wh-?"
Your voice faltered.
You couldn’t reply, unable to comprehend how you even felt about all of this. What the hell was happening.
“You shouldn’t be alone,” Choso repeated calmly after a moment.
“I decide that,” you replied, forcing firmness back into your voice despite how small you suddenly felt beneath his attention.
Something faint shifted in his expression at that, something more wounded. His gaze lowered slightly, almost contemplative.
“…You let Yuji accompany you,” he reasoned.
The observation was so strangely plaintive it left you speechless for a beat.
“He’s my student.”
“And I am his brother.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“...”
Briefly, he paused at the rejection, hesitating for a moment before deciding to hazard a few slow steps forward, not enough to fully bridge the gap between you both, but enough to make your heartbeat stumble anyway.
“I know humans dislike this,” he said lowly. “I am trying to understand. You’re Yuji’s sensei, I was hoping…”
He trailed off, face rumpling slightly in a look of feeble bashfulness, or discomfort, you couldn’t really tell.
“I want to understand being human."
The confession landed so strangely that, for a moment, it carved straight through any lingering presentiment simmering within you. It softened the sharp, unpredictable edges of the situation just enough to leave you disoriented from the surplus adrenaline.
Your shoulders eased before you could stop them.
“W-What? Understandi-? Why can’t you talk to Yuji about that?”
The look of embarrassment grew on his features. It was such a foreign look on him, so poorly worn that it almost made you laugh. Choso didn’t look like a man built for vulnerability, nor did he seem the sort when he was around. Everything about him felt too large, too restrained, too ancient in a way that made ordinary human discomfort seem very misplaced upon him.
It was endearing. Slightly. If you forget about the fact the very same man had stalked you to and fro from your apartment.
“There are… some things I cannot talk to him about as his older brother…” The admission came low and reluctant, like the words themselves had to be manually squeezed out of his throat.
“What things?” you asked cautiously.
Choso went quiet again, as his gaze drifted away from your face for the first time in five minutes, settling somewhere lower before immediately shifting back upward with odd stiffness, like he’d caught himself doing something wrong without fully understanding why.
The lines of his throat shifted under the weight of a hard, obvious swallow.
“...Human things,” he answered carefully.
Your lips pinched together.
“That doesn’t explain anything.”
“..,I know.”
“You’re gonna have to be more specific.”
His gaze drifted towards the refrigerators lining the aisle beside you, expression tightening faintly like he was trying to organize thoughts he wasn’t accustomed to having.
“Yuji understands humans naturally,” he said slowly, chin dipping. “He belongs among them.”
Something oddly wistful threaded through his low voice.
“I do not.”
“Well,” you started, rubbing your neck, “I don’t think stalking someone counts as trying to understand humanity…”
His eyes returned to you immediately, posture erecting.
“I wasn’t stalking.”
“You literally were.”
A pregnant pause, before he’s looking away again - almost sheepishly - surrendering his shoulders in a sad little sag.
“…Then I was stalking.”
Despite yourself, your mouth twitched up. The correction came so serious, so immediate, that it almost bordered absurdity.
Choso noticed the tiny shift in your expression instantly, and you watched first hand as something vaguely perked on his own face at the sight.
Like he had been searching for that reaction specifically.
“You are a good sensei to Yuji,” he said softly. “I thought that I could learn from you from afar.”
“Okay, and now?” you asked cannily, before you could stop yourself.
His gaze lingered on you in heavy silence, thoughtful in a way that made heat crawl uneasily through the stratums of your chest. The air conditioned convenience store suddenly felt far too warm.
“I can’t,” he sounded almost troubled by the realization himself. "I need some guidance."
Well, you should've expected that.
Letting out a heavy breath, muscles slumped as you put your zapped energy into checking your watch.
12:32 AM.
You were cold and tired. Your limbs felt like cinder blocks and your brain was too overworked to continue navigating whatever surreal conversation this had become.
“Look. Listen. I don’t mean to be rude, but I need to buy these groceries and I need to go home. Can we talk about this another time?”
“...Will you think about it?”
For a second, all you could hear was the low hum of refrigeration units and rain striking the windows in uneven bursts. Choso remained standing there beneath the harsh convenience store lights, broad shoulders still damp from the storm outside, watching you with unnerving patience.
Like he genuinely intended to wait there until the end of time for your answer.
“You really are strange…” you sighed.
At that, something almost shy flickered across his face.
Your stomach twisted strangely at the expression.
“Fine. Fine. I’ll think about it.”
Lips curved up at your resignation oh-so-slightly, it faded away when his gaze flicked briefly toward the rain-streaked windows adjacent to you both, before settling back onto your face.
“I will accompany you home.”
Eyes nearly bobbled out of their sockets at the certainty in his tone.
“That wasn’t a question,” you noticed warily.
“No.”
At least he was honest.
A tired hand came and scrubbed across your weary face, as exhaustion pressed heavier against your shoulders. You genuinely didn’t have the right mental threshold for this conversation anymore. And now you were standing in a convenience store after midnight, negotiating with a man who admitted to stalking you like he was discussing the weather.
“You know- Fine. Okay," you pointed a warning finger at him. “But you’re walking next to me. Not behind me. Not on rooftops. Not lurking in an alley somewhere.”
Choso blinked, like the compromise itself surprised him.
Then, slowly, he nodded once.
“Okay.”
Squinting at him suspiciously, you moved first, steering your basket toward the register with him trailing behind in heavy silence, like a haunting wraith cloaking himself in your shadow.
The cashier at the register looked half-dead himself, slumped behind the counter with his cheek resting lazily against his fist. He barely glanced up as he began scanning your items, clearly far more interested in surviving the remainder of his shift than anything happening around him.
Completely oblivious to the tense atmosphere hanging around aisle seven moments prior.
You almost envied him.
Because you could feel Choso standing behind you the entire time.
Not touching.
Just... there.
Close enough that your awareness kept snagging on his presence over and over again; the damp smell of rain clinging to his clothes, the sheer size of him at your back, the weight of his gaze whenever you shifted a foot even slightly.
And every time you glanced over your shoulder, he was already looking at you.
“Cash or card…?” the cashier slurred tiredly, finally lifting his head properly.
Only to completely blanch at the sight behind you.
His spine jerked stiff so suddenly, his chair squeaked violently against the floor, eyes darting between you and the towering, soaked man silently looming adjacent.
You forced a smile.
"Card."
By the time you exited the convenience store, the rain had softened into a fine drizzle.
Streetlights reflected gold against wet pavement as silence stretched between the two of you. Choso walked exactly where you told him to - beside you instead of behind - but somehow that only made things stranger.
You’d gotten so used to sensing him lurking somewhere distant that having him openly occupy your space felt deeply unnatural. Like being forced to acknowledge a ghost that had always haunted you from the corners.
The plastic grocery bag rustled quietly against your leg.
Choso glanced at it.
“You only bought instant food,” he observed with a slight frown.
You snorted tiredly. “Congratulations. Your human observation skills are already improving.”
Eyes narrowed at you, condemning you with his gaze alone. “That is not healthy.”
Yeah, he was definitely the eldest brother alright.
Shrugging, you shoved a hand into your pocket. “I’m usually too tired to cook, so I have to compromise.”
He didn’t reply to that, silence settling in again.
The city around you had mostly fallen asleep by now. A few passing cars hissed across puddles, distant neon signs buzzing softly against the dark.
Beside you, Choso moved with unnatural quiescence for someone so tall. No splashing footsteps. No wasted movement. Just that steady looming presence keeping pace beside you.
Rain gathered along his lashes, dark eyes reflecting passing streetlights whenever he stole glances at you.
You knew because you stole glances at him, too.
Ahead, your apartment complex finally came into view beneath the dim glow of streetlamps. Relief loosened something tight in your ribs.
Beside you, Choso’s pace slowed almost scarcely.
“You live here,” he murmured.
You frowned. “You already knew that...”
“I wanted to hear you confirm it.”
The comment made your skin crawl slightly. Just don’t think about it.
You stopped beneath the awning outside your building entrance, turning fully toward him for the first time since leaving the store. Up close, he looked almost as exhausted as you - rain-soaked hair framing tired features, dark circles heavy beneath intent eyes.
Still fixed entirely on you.
“Well, you walked me home,” you said carefully. “Now you can go home yourself.”
Choso didn’t exactly take the blatant hint.
You had expected him to nod and turn. To disappear back into the rainy night and drifting mist without another sound until there was nothing left but the hollow hiss of wet pavement.
However, he didn't move. Made no indication he was planning on moving, in fact. He simply remained where he stood beneath the awning, broad frame still and silent against the backdrop of rain-slick streets.
Staring at you.
This was… uncomfortable…
“Uh… Choso?”
Dark brows drew together faintly as though he was battling something foreign within him. Something confusing. His gaze drifted briefly toward the apartment building behind you before settling back onto your face.
What was he thinking? Normally you weren’t too shabby at getting a decent read on people, but with Choso… it was rather hit or miss. He mostly just looked bored half to death of everything.
“...May I… come inside?” he finally asked.
The question caught you off guard, not because of the words themselves, but because he asked it so cautiously, like the answer genuinely mattered to him.
Nevertheless, it made your guard shoot right back up, hands dropping stiffly at your sides, back rustling faintly.
“No.”
To his credit, Choso didn’t push. Didn’t look offended either. He simply nodded once in acceptance, though something faintly disappointed crossed his face before dissolving back into that familiar passiveness again.
“I understand.”
The ease of his response caught you off guard enough that guilt prickled unexpectedly beneath your ribs.
Which was ridiculous, you barely even knew this man. Regardless of Yuji's reassurance of him or his somewhat endearing mannerisms, said man had still admitted that he stalked you.
Still…
He looked genuinely sad just standing there, like a dog chained outside in the rain.
Every instinct in your body screamed that everything about this situation was a dangerous game you were playing. The stalking. The watching. The way he looked at you sometimes like he was trying to pull apart your humanity piece by piece and examine what made it work. What made you work.
Yet-
You exhaled slowly through your nose.
“You can come in for fifteen minutes,” you relented reluctantly, mostly disappointed in yourself for your lack of firmness. You weren’t going soft, were you?
Relief returned to his features so suddenly it almost startled you. It softened something severe in his face, almost making him look younger. More human.
It was dangerously disarming.
…Damn, maybe you were going soft…
“Thank you.”
“Alright, come on,” you sighed, swiping away residual rain caught in your brows with the back of your hand and turning on your heel.
Just as you had expected, the ride up was tense. Choso stood close - closer than necessary in the already confined space - but not touching. His damp clothes carried the cool, earhy scent of rain and something darker, mineral, like wet stone and faint iron.
You kept your eyes fixed on the glowing floor numbers, hyper-aware of every slow breath he took. The plastic grocery bag crinkled loudly in the silence whenever you shifted your weight.
“You’re nervous,” he observed quietly.
It wasn’t a question.
“I’m letting a man who admitted to stalking me into my apartment at one in the morning,” you muttered. “Yeah. A little.”
Choso was silent for a moment. Then, in a soft, steady voice:
“I won’t hurt you.”
The simplicity of it made your throat tighten up. He sounded like he genuinely believed that was enough to soothe you. Like the words alone should erase every red flag waving frantically in your mind.
“…I know,” you replied, though you weren’t entirely sure you meant it.
You wanted to believe him.
The elevator stopped on your floor with a soft ding. As soon as the doors slid open, you shuffled out quickly, rummaging in your pockets for your keys as you headed to your door. Choso trailing close behind, of course.
You tried to ignore how your fingers trembled as you unlocked your door.
The moment Choso stepped inside your apartment, his attention sharpened almost visibly. You watched warily as his eyes moved slowly across your living space, to the books stacked beside the couch, to the half-folded laundry abandoned on an armchair, to the mugs cluttering your sink.
He looked completely out of place, too tall and too still for your cozy, lived-in home.
“Uh, there’s some towels on the chair if you want to dry off,” you muttered awkwardly, shrugging your soaked coat off and toeing off your shoes. "Tea?"
After taking off his boots and lining them next to your shoes neatly, Choso complied immediately, carefully grabbing a towel before lowering himself onto the edge of your couch with surprising stiffness. Despite his size, he occupied the space strangely cautiously, like he was afraid of damaging something or overstepping.
"Yes."
You hovered near your kitchenette, suddenly hyperaware of another person existing inside your home. Your private sanctuary.
It felt… intimate. Dangerously so.
Or maybe you were just a lonely weirdo, who knows.
“So,” you started gingerly, plopping two green tea bags into mugs, “what exactly do you want me to teach you?”
Choso considered the question carefully.
“You understand humans.”
You barked out a short laugh as you turned on the kettle. “Debatable.”
“You understand them more than I do.”
“…That’s an incredibly low bar.”
“I want to learn how humans connect to each other, interact,” he continued, expression calm despite the oddly intimate weight of the statement. “What their feelings mean. How they know what is acceptable.”
The kettle began to whistle softly in the small space.
“Right, right,” you breathed, digesting his words for a moment, before slowly shaking your head. “Man, this is a terrible idea...”
“I can leave,” he offered immediately.
Your eyes flicked back to him at that, only to find the terrifying half-curse with your towel messily draped over his head - looking absurdly like a soggy ghost.
Something warm and stupid ballooned in your chest at the sight.
You turned back toward the kitchen counter to hide your expression.
“You really don’t have anyone else to ask about this?” you asked instead, focusing back on pouring the hot water into the mugs, steam billowing towards the ceiling.
“I am only close with my brothers. Besides Yuji, the rest are still cursed paintings.”
Jesus Christ, you had almost forgotten about that entire mess.
When you finally brought two mugs over, he accepted his with both hands dwarfing the ceramic - his fingers lightly brushing yours in the one-sided exchange.
His gaze flicked up to your face. “Thank you.”
Hesitating for a millisecond, you assessed the sitting arrangements. Damnit, there was hardly any room on the couch… You really should have put away that laundry.
“…Alright. Fine,” you said at last, already regretting it. You stuck an index finger up at him sternly. “But only one lesson.”
Something subtle shifted in Choso’s expression as he nodded once.
“…What is the lesson?” he asked.
Plopping down on the opposite end of the couch, you curled your legs beneath yourself, as if that could create an appropriate amount of space between the two of you on the small piece of furniture.
It didn't.
Choso sat quietly beside you, dark eyes fixed entirely on you with that unnerving steadiness of his. You could faintly feel the warmth of him, even through those baggy layers he always adorned.
Cradling your mug carefully between your palms, you hoped its warmth alone could distract you from his.
“Well,” you started slowly, “the most important thing is probably boundaries.”
Choso tilted his head faintly.
“Boundaries...”
“Yes. Human boundaries," you gestured vaguely between the two of you. “Personal space and privacy. You know, normal things.”
He nodded once, solemn as ever.
"Typically, it's seen as crossing someone's boundaries when you follow them without their knowledge," you continued, shooting him a look.
"I know that now."
"Okay, good… that's good."
Dear god, were you really praising him for the uttermost bare minimum? How the hell were you going to do this?
"Can you tell me about physical closeness?" he asked out of the blue.
Thrown into an immediate frenzy of almost inhaling your tea, you swallowed harshly, throat burning from the mishap.
"W-What? Uh, what about it?"
Unphased by your clear floundering, he leaned back slightly, gaze drifting thoughtfully toward the ceiling.
"When is it acceptable?"
Eyes narrowed immediately at him over the rim of your mug.
“Why are you asking that?”
His expression remained maddeningly apathetic as he returned your gaze.
“Because humans touch each other often.”
"Well, uh, I guess..." you muttered, staring down into your hot beverage, swirling it carefully to watch it all form a mini whirlpool in the centre. "It all depends on the relationship, humans usually reserve closeness for people they trust or just like.”
"...Relationships are based on mutual liking, right?"
"Mhm," you hummed, taking a short gulp of tea.
"How do you know you like someone enough for relationship making?"
You snorted softly, sinking back into cushions a little. Relationship making.
"You talking about the romantic or the friendship kind?"
"The one that... makes my abdomen feel strange."
That time round, you really did end up choking on your tea.
You spluttered hard into your fist, struggling to draw in gulps of air as your eyes stung with tears. Choso watched you with immediate alertness, leaning his body forward - like he was about to jump to your aid - only to freeze helplessly as his expression twisted with what can only be described as helpless concern.
“Are you okay? Did… I say something wrong?”
Waving him off wordlessly, a few harsh coughs seemed to do the trick with clearing out the airways.
“F-Fuck,” you rasped, finally setting your mug down on the coffee table before you ended up spilling it all over yourself and your couch from the sheer psychological mayhem Choso seemed to perpetually provide for you. “Don’t… say shit like that…”
“The abdomen thing,” you breathed in raggedly, “could mean a lot of things.”
“It happens when I am around one person specifically.”
“Okay…” you said slowly, nervously wiping your sweaty palms on your pants. “Uh… what kind of strange feeling?”
“It feels tight,” he murmured. “Heavy, but not unpleasant. Warm.”
Your pulse started acting stupid immediately.
“Well,” you coughed awkwardly, “humans can get attached to people emotionally. Sometimes strongly. It doesn’t always mean romantic interest.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
“But I think it is.”
“Oh.”
A heavy silence solidified between you both.
Choso leaned forward and set his mug on the table, elbows resting on his knees. He tugged the towel off his head, setting it aside, his damp hair falling messily around his face.
“When humans are romantically interested,” he asked carefully, “do they usually think about touching the other person?”
You wanted to disappear. No wonder Yuji always looks exhausted around him.
“Yes,” you answered after a beat, dragging a hand down your face, tugging your eyelids low. “Usually. Physical affection is normal in romantic relationships.”
“What kind?”
You groaned quietly into your hand.
“Okay. Fine. Humans in romantic relationships usually hold hands, hug, kiss... sleep together - normal couple things.”
“Kissing,” Choso repeated, the word low and heavy on his tongue.
Heat tickled your neck immediately. Why did he have to focus on that of all things??
“Yes. Kissing.”
“…Why?”
Fisting your hair, you made a hushed sound - instead of sobbing like you had intended.
“What do you mean why?”
“What purpose does it serve?”
“It’s-” you floundered helplessly. “It’s intimacy! Affection. It makes us feel good inside and outside!”
“...You’ve kissed before,” he mused contemplatively, watching you intently. Again, not a question.
“That’s none of your business,” you huffed, crossing your arms tightly across yourself like it could somehow lessen the exposure you suddenly felt beneath his stare.
Choso, of course, didn’t look away. “Did it make you feel good?”
The way in which your body went rigid at that, was severe enough to risk locking your joints in place. Heat swamped your body in such a violent wave, that it bordered on painful - like you had accidentally turned the wrong tap in the shower and scalded yourself terribly.
And against your - very questionably - better judgement, you had to open your big mouth.
“Sometimes…” you admitted weakly.
The effect your answer had on him was immediate.
Smoothed, relaxed lines of his face sharpened imperceptibly at your response, something predatory flickering beneath the surface for the first time. It was enough to have that sense of being near a predator alarm inside your increasingly fraying mind - like you only just realised a wild animal had teeth.
“Sometimes?” he echoed, dull, baritone voice holding more of a weight to it as it scraped low against his throat.
Holy shit.
The whiplash from the sudden shift in atmosphere, left you feeling unsatisfied with the amount of air you were drawing in with each growing breath. What had started as awkward curiosity, had curdled into something more dense, something you couldn’t bear unpacking.
“It… depends on the person,” you managed to get out, a bead of sweat rolling down the back of your neck. “And if they’re… y’know, good at it.”
Stop talking. Your mind screamed at you, but the words kept slipping out anyway. This was spiraling. Fast and irreversible.
Dangerous.
Foolishly, you hazard a glance at Choso.
Burnt umber were already waiting for your eyes.
He had shifted without your knowledge. No longer was he relaxed; slouched over his knee. Spine was sitting straighter, more attentive. His anterior angled towards you a tad bit more.
That normally rectangular blood mark on his face had tapered into something razor.
“How can you be good at it?”
You swallowed, mouth suddenly a drought as your throat worked painfully through the aridity.
Were you just bleeding foolishly before something starving?
“E-Experience, um, practising.”
“...”
Traitorous eyes honed in on the slight parting of his lips. They noticed when irises dropped to his lower eyelid as he stared at your own lips with staggering intensity. It was the first time his attention had ever felt openly aware of your body rather than merely studying you as a whole.
That distinction made your stomach pretzel hard. This was very bad.
The muscles in his throat shifted beneath a slow swallow - you disappointed yourself as you watched the sight abashedly. Then, slowly, carefully, he leaned forward just slightly more. Not enough to invade your space, just enough to make your breath catch anyway.
You suddenly became hyperaware of everything. The warmth trapped beneath your clothes, the smell of rain, the quiet sound of his breathing, how big he was in comparison to you-
“It is you,” he suddenly breathed out, words raw with realisation. The sound itself had the knot in your guts twist so horribly it left you lightheaded. “You make me feel these strange things.”
“C-Choso…”
“You make me want to… experience humanity. All of it.”
The confession hit like a blow. Yet, it was also like he wasn’t entirely aware of what he was even confessing, only that the feeling itself had grown too large to keep inside anymore.
His hands tightened into fists on his thighs, bunching up the loose fabric of his pants until his knuckles paled somehow further, as if he was physically fighting the urge to reach for you.
You really should have stopped this.
Your body screamed at you to pull away. To stand up. To put some much needed space between you both. To remind yourself that this was a terrible idea unfolding in real time.
Instead, you stayed rooted to the couch beneath the sweltering heat of his stare, pulse hammering harder in your throat the longer his eyes remained fixed on your mouth.
Wide eyed, you watched as he risked shifting himself closer to you. You could tell he was trying to be attentive to your reactions, like he was making sure you were truly allowing him the gift of your proximity.
Hands rusted into unsure fists at your lap as you felt his leg press against yours.
“This is weird,” you suddenly whispered, shakily.
“I know.”
“And inappropriate.”
“I know.”
“You stalked me.”
"...I know.”
His torso turned more fully toward you then, forcing you to truly digest the sheer size of him at such close range. And yet, somehow, he still didn’t feel that imposing. If anything, Choso seemed almost cautious with it, like he understood exactly how overwhelming he could be if he wasn’t careful.
Cautiously, he placed a hand on your calf, ducking slightly so he could look at you from a less intimidating height. Attentive.
The size of his hand in comparison to your leg made your pulse stutter violently.
"...Do you want me to stop?"
The question shattered what little resolve you had left inside you.
"...God," you wheezed. It did quite the exact opposite in composing Choso, his breath growing unbridled as the edges of his restraint splintered in real time.
Clearly somewhere along the way, your unease had blurred into something far more confusing. Something humiliatingly curious that actually made you consider doing the unthinkable.
In your defence, there was never really any time for this in the little jujutsu world. Never any room for gentle hands or closeness. You couldn’t even remember the last time someone had touched you with anything other than clinical efficiency or violence.
And now, it seemed Choso had somehow awoken that loneliness that you usually kept buried under work and duty - coaxing it into clawing its way to the surface.
Likewise with you to him, no doubt.
“No…” you finally breathed, ignoring every rational afterthought that begged you to say otherwise. “Please don’t.
You hardly even knew this man.
Slowly - giving you every possible chance to move away - Choso leaned in. You found yourself mirroring him, magnetised.
He invaded your privacy.
The moment his damp forehead brushed lightly against yours, your breath faltered completely. He paused there first, almost trembling with restraint, as if even this much closeness was overwhelming him.
He is dangerous.
Large fingers hovered near your face without touching, visibly hesitant in a way that felt deeply at odds with his size. Almost like he was waiting for your rejection before he even made contact.
When you didn’t pull away, toiled finger pads gently pressed forward, before he caressed your cheek like it was something dangerously delicate, thumb carefully brushing against the thin skin of your under-eyes.
The gentle touch made something deep inside your chest crack open - letting a hunger you’d ignored for far too long spill out.
Cold lips brushed against yours tentatively, uncertainly. Unsure of how to proceed, unsure if you truly wanted this.
He was begging for your guidance.
It was a good thing that your better judgement had long since jumped off your shoulder.
As you wouldn’t have kissed him like you did if it hadn't.
A short puff of air fanned against your face, startled, as his entire body tensed beneath the realization that you were actually responding to him. That you were actually allowing this.
When he finally gathered his bearings enough to kiss you back, he was evidently clumsy with his reciprocation, even a tad bit hesitant. Not an inherent surprise.
The way his nose awkwardly bumped against you, and how his mouth ineptly attempted to slot against yours, made it glaringly obvious he had never done this before.
But that was okay. You said you'd guide him, didn't you?
So close to his face, it was impossible to hide away from his invasive eyes, lidded and framed delicately with the damp, dark thicket of his lashes as his gaze bored into your own.
It was intense, intense enough that you had to let your lashes flutter closed.
Fingers curled tightly into his soaked sleeves as you kissed him. When you felt the miniscule tremors in his shoulders, you felt evil as you indulged yourself by swiping your tongue against the centre line of his lips.
A low noise left him - deep and affected - as instinctively, he parted his lips, desperate for more of you.
Tilting your head, you deepened the kiss, slipping a tongue to meet his as a hand traversed its way up his bicep and over his neck. Gently, you cupped the sharp line of his jaw.
Immediately, your tastebuds picked up this faint - but distinct - metallic tang. Blood. It wasn’t overwhelming, per se, though it was strangely and unmistakably him. Alongside, there was this inexplicable taste of something dark, almost herbal, like black tea left to steep too long. It was subtle, but addictive enough to make you want to chase it.
The noise he let out against your mouth, almost had you flinching just from the sheer sense of anguish that rolled with it - dark heat pooled deep below as you swallowed how agonised he sounded by the hands of you.
After that, you could feel his uncertainty melting away, hand tightening on your calf enough for you to feel the exact moment he grew greedier.
Choso quickly kissed you like a starving man trying to remain polite about the first meal he’s had in decades, like restraint was something fragile he was actively fighting to maintain for your sake.
Like he was scared of completely devouring you.
Every fervid drag of his mouth and tongue against yours, carried unbearable restraint behind it, tension wound so tightly beneath his skin you could practically feel it trembling there.
You knew you were poking the bear when you nipped at his lower lip, teasingly pulling away from the kiss. However, you did it anyway. Perversely enjoying the way in which he desperately tried to follow your departing mouth - with only the thin webbing of saliva still connecting you both for a short moment - large figure fruitlessly following the bait, hook line and sinker.
When you opened your eyes, you were unsurprised by the pair of dilated pupils that stared back with almost terrifying intensity, tenuous rings of molasses practically swallowed by black holes, pulling you into its gravitational pull as you couldn’t drag yourself to look away from them.
He really looked like his restraint had officially caved in.
Each breath left him heavier than the last, colour blooming into his pale, parted lips as his chest undulated beneath dark fabric.
It was as though he was struggling to regulate something much larger than simple desire.
"More," he demanded breathlessly.
Self-preservation seemed to have taken the backseat, as excitement danced in your belly at the realisation that gone was the Choso that was terrified of even brushing a finger against you.
He looked like he wanted to feast on you wholly.
You had no intentions of stopping him.
Wordlessly, you relocated the calloused palm at your cheek by the wrist so it pressed against your breast.
Dark eyebrows scrunched low, casting stormy shadows across his eyes as he glared at where his hand laid. He didn’t move for a moment, simply absorbing the heat and the weight of you in his palm before his fingers curled slowly. Shakily, he proceeded to knead the flesh.
Soon enough, his grip grew vehement with each fondle, stoking the budding fire within you.
Driving the final nail into the coffin - jumping past any point of return - you shifted your hips forward and guided his other hand downward. You pressed his hand to cup your sex through your pants.
Fingers went rigid as soon as they made contact. The sound of air being dragged harshly through clenched teeth had your eyes darting to his face, only to find his gaze now transfixed to the newly unlocked area of your body.
It took him a moment to snap out of it, and you waited patiently. Experimentally, his hand flexed, involuntarily squeezing the heel of his palm against your clit. Teeth snagged on your bottom lip at the sensation, a stuttering breath leaving you as you let go of him, leaving him to his own devices.
Almost instantaneously, his fingers dragged curiously up the seam of your pants in a slow, experimental stroke, pressing the fabric against your folds. The friction made your hips twitch, forcing his gaze to snap back up to your face immediately, searching, drinking in every micro-expression like it was vital information.
“Is this… good?” he asked, voice hoarse. The uncertainty in his tone clashed violently with the way his digits were already pressing harder, rubbing in small, clumsy circles as if he was chasing the way your breath would occasionally catch.
“Y-Yeah, yeah. Just lemme-” huffing, you gently pushed his hand away. Undoing your pants and dragging them down by the hem with embarrassing hurriedness, you awkwardly shimmied and kicked them off your legs, letting them rumple on the floor. Your panties followed subsequently.
Bared from the waist down, you worried as you looked back up at him, fearing you may be getting a bit too excited and were pushing the limits here. You didn’t want to overwhelm him, after all.
And, well… he looked utterly overwrought. That was the only word that could truly capture the look on his face; gaze glued between your legs with something close to reverence and starvation all at once.
The hand you’d steered away still hovered near, fingers wilting as they slightly curled, as if he wanted oh-so-desperately to touch you, but he just didn’t know where to even begin.
You were about to pilot him closer again, until fingertips tickled the soft hair there. Carefully, he trailed over your mound in awe as he struggled to wrap his head around how one could be so soft, so warm. Soon enough, he decided to take the full initiative as two thick digits dived along your bare folds, spreading the slickness he found there curiously.
“Warm. Slippery,” he rasped.
Mortification pricked along your skin like molten thorns.
“D-Don’t say stuff like that,” you sputtered, appalled. “Just… just go a little higher- yeah, yeah- there.”
Following your instructions with silent eagerness, he circled your clit clumsily. His pressure was inconsistent, experimental - sometimes too light, sometimes almost too much. He made sure to remain attentive to how your body reacted to him, the sheer concentration on his face making your stomach interweave.
You reached down, wrapping your fingers around his wrist to help refine the rhythm, hips slowly gyrating with his hand. “Like this… steady, firm circles...”
After a short while, he seemed to get the hang of it, occasionally peppering sudden roughness in his movements just to see you squirm.
“Fuck…” you moaned softly, head falling back limply against your neck.
Choso made a rough noise in response - part frustrated, part ruttish - as he drooped forward until his breath fanned against the lining of your collarbone.
“Again,” he demanded breathlessly, the sound bleeding into raw grittiness at the end. “Make that sound again.”
Trying to wring out more noises from you, his thumb inquisitively brushed over your protruding nipple through your sweater as he fondled you - peppering quick pinches here and there just to see how you'd react.
"Hnn..." you bit into your lip, the dual stimulation having your back arching, pushing into his touch.
“Take this off,” he said suddenly, voice low and brittle, as his fingers tugged impatiently at the hem of your sweater.
If you weren't already feeling dazed from his touch, you would’ve been a little taken aback by his sudden boldness. However, instead, you complied without a second thought. Head rolling forward, you pulled your sweater up over your head, before tossing it on the floor in a lazy heap with your other garments.
The moment your breasts were bare - your entire body, for that matter - Choso’s eyes widened fractionally as he slowly combed over your naked frame thoroughly. Drinking you in like you’re the only glass of water in sight and he was lost in a barren wasteland.
The hunger exuding from him was palpable, yes, but his gaze also held this intimately, strange sense of besottedness.
Before you could even try curling self-consciously into yourself, or scolding him for staring so brazenly, he’s leaning down and pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the midpoint of your chest, warm kisses traverse south until he’s mouthing at the soft flesh there like he can’t help himself, eyes blissfully shuttered.
When his lips closed around one nipple, tongue flicking experimentally, your hand flew to the back of his head, fingers burrowing through damp, uneven hair.
“H-Hah… Choso…”
The sound he let out against your flesh in response was practically pained, vibrations seeping into you and sinking downwards. Up until then, his hand remained diligent as it worked between your thighs, only now sliding deeper to tease your entrance - feeling you pulse against his finger pads.
“Can I? Inside?” he murmured against your skin, the word vibrating through you.
You nodded frantically. “Yes- just one. Slowly.”
Choso obeyed without an ounce of hesitation, pushing one, thick finger into you and stretching you open. The intrusion was careful but insistent, and the low, guttural sound he made when your walls fluttered - trying to accommodate him - was enough to make your toes curl.
“Tight,” he rasped, voice utterly wrecked. “You’re so... warm inside… pulsing.”
When he finally submerged himself down to the very last knuckle, he wasted no time as he curiously prodded around. Occasionally he’d keep brushing against a spot that would make your stomach tense before moving away, slowly driving you to the brink of insanity as he unknowingly dangled pleasure right before your eyes - just out of reach.
“W-Wait- fuck, just-” desperately, you reached for his wrist once again, adjusting him to a more optimal angle. “Curl it, please.”
Immediately, he curled the submerged digit, hooking around with short but hard thrusts - in and out. That combined with how he nipped at the peak of a tightened nipple, had you groaning, almost swaying backwards as you lost your focus entirely.
It seemed that every noise he elicited out of you, only seemed to rev him up worse for wear, as he’d always moan back in response. Growing rowdier with his ministrations - as he couldn’t satisfy his own teeming need - he seemingly settled on taking out his frustrated energy on you.
When you started going stiff as a board - hands twisting in his hair and moans straining against your stretched throat as he nudged against that one spongy spot- the cogs started whirring as he started sniffing something new out.
Pulling away from your breast, he peered up at you with ardent interest as he jabbed against the same spot a few more times. His eyes slightly widening with wonder as your shoulders shuddered violently, abdominal muscles jumping alongside your sharp noises of surprise.
Then his eyes narrowed, like a cat cornering a mouse. Eyes bright and glinting with something that promised nothing remotely good.
And, well, that was kinda it for you.
Hands are pulled away from you entirely for a millisecond, before you’re abruptly being tugged down by your calf. Head hitting the couch cushion, you struggled to even prop yourself up as you tried recollecting your scrambled senses. You didn’t get very far, as, before you know it, he’s grabbing the back of your knees and folding you so they’re practically situated by your head. It leaves you completely exposed to his calculating eye.
“W-What the-?” you wheezed, almost winded by the manhandling.
Choso let out a short huff at your reaction - almost sounding amused - as he lowered himself to the altar of your upper legs. Dark eyes flickered indecisively from your sex up to your face like he was being spoiled for choice.
“I want... to taste you,” he confessed lowly, dull nails sinking into the pillowy flesh of your legs as his lips glided their way down your inner thigh. When he reached the cradle of your thighs, you felt hot pants fanning across your glistening cunt, making your legs quiver as you struggled with the urge to clamp them shut.
“Please... will you let me?"
"Yes-"
You barely hissed the word out before he hungrily licked a long, slow stripe up you, parting your delicate folds in the process as he groaned deeply at your taste. The vibration shot straight through you, making your feet twitch in the air. He then did it again, and again, growing bolder as he lapped at your pussy like it was an icy treat.
Hands eventually traversed their way back into his hair, settling this time on gripping his little pigtails for support. Taking the bull by the horns, so to speak, you encouraged him to shower your neglected clit with some much needed attention.
Unsurprisingly, he caught on quickly to the silent request.
Latching his greedy mouth on, he suckled on the tumescent little nub with ardour, experimenting between gentle pulling and quick, tongue flicking, just to see what provoked a greater reaction from you.
A small whine took root in your throat, sprouting out into a groan when he sucked especially hard.
“O-Oh fuck, that’s-” crammed onto the end of your couch, you have little enough room to flail your head, eyes fluttering shut with flourishing ecstasy.
You felt a hand leaving your leg, before it was suddenly running up your soft stomach to grope at your chest again. He squeezed a breast, thumb brushing over a nipple, before he rolled it between rough finger pads, sending sparks all the way down to your furling and unfurling toes.
In response, animalistic instincts had you yanking him close by the roots of his pigtails with little room to escape.
The response he gave was so sudden and unexpected, you found yourself flinching even in your muzzy state.
A rumble of a growl bubbled out his throat, buzzing straight through your clit. The sound was feral enough to have you almost second guessing your safety, if its effect on you wasn’t totally and utterly devastating, that is
The hand on your leg suddenly vanished, with the only trace of it ever being there, being the crescent shapes bitten into your skin from Choso’s nails.
Then, before you knew it, two fingers were prying you open without warning. With a clear sense of purpose, digits immediately crooked before he's pounding into your g-spot like a bat out of hell. Lips remained locked firmly suctioned around your clit, tongue flitting tirelessly, as your legs trembled uncontrollably in the air.
Wailing at the ceiling - no doubt fuelling a noise complaint from at least one of your neighbours - you missed how shark-like eyes remained entirely locked onto your face, glare practically burning a hole in your head as he latched onto you like he had no intention of ever letting go.
“I ca-ah- ahh- please! Ch-Choso- ’m gonna-!” you babbled, body straining uncomfortably as it subconsciously fought to arch and twist in its awkward angle. The sheer amount of pleasure smothering you, was simply becoming too much for your fizzing nerves to even handle, as it neared frothing out of your confines. "F-Fuck! 'm gonna... cum-!"
In response, he pulled his hand away from your chest. A large palm slid down the valley of your torso, settling on splaying across your lower stomach in an almost possessive manner - firmly holding you down with ease as he feasted upon you.
After that, you remained helpless to him in your pinned angle. All you could manage were small, pathetic jerking movements thanks to his vast strength, lettingyour orgasm easily rope around you, pulling you closer to its vortex.
With a few more hard-hitting thrusts, your climax dragged you down under like a maelstrom. Sudden and breathtaking. All consuming. Spine arching almost clean off the couch, your mouth dropped in a silent scream as your legs shook frenetically, cunt palpitating around his fingers as you gushed all the way down his forearm.
Choso didn’t slow down, however.
Even as your orgasm crashed through you like a seismic sea wave, even as your pussy oozed messily and spasmed wildly around his thick fingers, he kept sucking on your clit with single-minded hunger.
Fingers continued their brutal, rhythmic assault on your g-spot, drawing out every last pulse and shudder until your whole body jostled violently, thin tears streaming freely from the overwhelming intensity.
Only when your cries turned into broken, miserable whimpers, did he finally ease up, rising quietly onto his knees as he reluctantly pulled away from you. Gracelessly, he wiped your essence painting his lips and chin with the back of his sleeve, watching carefully as you caught your breath with this reoccurring - yet misplaced - sense of intimacy.
"...Are you okay?" he eventually asked, tilting his head, with what you deemed was growing concern, as he took into account the way you still trembled like a leaf there before him. "I didn't... hurt you?
Weakly, you managed to shake your head "no", barely managing to raise your wrist to shoot him a thumbs up.
He let out a soft chuff, relieved.
Giving you one last look over, he turned his attention to his pruned digits, webbed all over with your glistening cum. Without a second thought, he brought his hand to his mouth and licked them clean, closing his eyes and humming deeply at your taste, like it was addictive enough for him to lose himself entirely if he wasn't careful.
Once he deemed his hand clean enough, he then, wordlessly, crawled over you, almost dropping his entire, crushing weight upon you as he lowered down to his forearms, caging you in as he gently pushed his forehead against yours.
"You tasted so good… pretty… so pretty…" he praised mindlessly against your lips, slipping a hand beneath your limp head, cradling the back of your skull with surprising tenderness while the rest of him radiated raw need. Fingers tangled carefully in your hair as he slowly rocked his hips against your stomach. "I felt everything... squeezed me so tightly…"
Hovering above you that very second, he looked and seemed like another person entirely. His hair looked almost like a bird's nest from how hard you had pulled on his pigtails. His face was flushed, lips swollen, dark lashes low and his pupils blown out so wide, that he truly started looking inhuman.
Not to mention the fact that his blood mark, across the bridge of his nose, looked as though it was melting, oozing like tar down his face.
Yet, somehow, he also looked more human than you’ve ever seen him before. That usual distant, ancient mask had shattered completely.
“You are still shaking…” he murmured, almost awed. His fingers tightened gently in your hair as he pressed another slow, needy grind against you like he just couldn’t help himself. “...Did I make you feel that good?”
Still catching your breath, you could only nod in response. Frailly reaching an arm up, you cupped the side of his flushed face with a hand - his skin fever-hot beneath your palm.
Choso’s eyes fluttered half-closed at the touch, as he turned his head to kiss your palm gratefully. Your other hand busied itself as it slipped between the tight gap between your bodies, blindly reaching down until you cupped the massive bulge straining against his pants
Just like his face, he was scorching. Despite the barrier of cloth, heat eagerly seeped into your hand. Not just that, but you could feel just how hard he was. It had to have been bordering on painful, with the way he was stiff as a lead pipe.
Hissing viciously, you felt how his stomach caved in at your touch. The breath he let out after was long, seemingly controlled at first, before the ending elevated into a soft whine.
“Please…” he begged so sweetly, head slipping down as he buried his face into the sweaty crook of your neck.
“I need to… be inside you,” he confessed into your skin, the words coming out choppy as he struggled containing himself or his breathing. “Need to... feel you around me… squeezing me like you did my fingers. Please...”
His hips kept rolling against your hand in shallow, helpless movements, clearly fighting the urge to rut into you immediately.
And, well, how could you say no to that?
With shaky hands, you tugged at the waistband of his pants. Choso lifted his hips just enough to help you push them down, his cock springing free - thick, vined with veins, and flushed dark at the tip. The sight made your mouth go dry. He was big. Really big.
Settling himself back between your thighs, you felt the head of his cock nudging against your slick entrance. The sheer heat of him making the muscles in your thighs tick.
Choso braced himself on one forearm, the other hand still cradling the back of your head like you were something precious.
“...You are so small,” he rasped, voice strained. "I don’t want to hurt you..."
You swallowed hard, threading through his messy, unruly tufts of hair, before tugging him back just enough to meet his eyes. His jaw slackened at the sensation.
“You won’t, can’t you feel how wet I am?” you breathed. Reaching between your legs so you could grip him, you rubbed his tip against your lubricated cunt to further punctuate your point. You then settled on positioning him at your entrance. “Just go slow.”
Letting out a quiet wheeze, his sweaty forehead lowered back to yours. Lidded eyes locked on your face - like he needed to watch every single reaction - he slowly but surely sunk into your overindulged cunt.
Whimpering quietly at your already sensitive walls being provoked further, you clung helplessly to him, fingers bunching up the sodden garments covering his back. The stretch was intense. Not a bad intense, however. The fullness he provided had your vision blurring, cunt fluttering weakly. If not for him prepping you earlier, this would have been a whole less pleasant.
Choso on the other hand, was in a merry little world of his own. Eyes heavy and unfocused, he unleashed a deep, guttural noise as he carefully split you open around him.
When he finally bottomed out inside - signalled by the wiry hair that tickled your inner thighs - his entire frame shivered violently, like he was a high-rise building actively crumbling on top of you in the midst of a natural disaster.
"Hnng... hah... I... can't..." he choked out. He stayed like that for a moment, still and just barely managing to keep the fine webbings of what little self-control he had from snapping. "So t-tight... fuck- 'm sorry, 'm sorry..."
Hunching himself further like a feral cryptid, he shifted his arms, tucking them beneath your shoulder blades and holding you flush against him in an inescapable embrace.
Then, he finally moved, pulling his hips back before ramming back into your pelvis. Deep and devastating enough for your nerves to pop and spark. He then did it again, and again, refusing you any room to process the growing sense of overstimulating stimuli, as he soon established a powerful rythym for himself.
"Feel- so good," he huffed, smushing his lips messily against yours whenever he could, swallowing your sobs. "Never... never felt anything like this-"
Each stroke was thorough, driven by something far older than thought alone. Animalistic. Instinctive. The arms wrapped around you felt more like iron bands, pinning you against the couch as he pounded into you.
"G-God! Choso!" you cried, face pinching tight as you clawed haplessly at his back for stability, wooden frame of your couch creaking in distress.
It hurt. It hurt so fucking good. The position insured he was hammering overwhelming, painful bliss into you, his cock rubbing against your swollen clit with each hasty plunge. Toes crimping, your legs shook around his waist as he fucked you like he was trying to crawl deep inside you.
He was already close. There was no doubt. Kisses devolved into sluggard mouthing at your lips, then at your cheek, before drooping to the comfort of the nook of your neck. Not to mention the fact he was practically vibrating above you, muscles tremoring to a point he grew stiff, thrusts becoming almost stuttered in a way.
"I'm... gonna-" he strained out desperately, hips faltering for a moment. You felt the smooth warmthness of his bared teeth press against your throat.
"Cum, Choso..." you breathed, sliding a hand to cup the back of his head. "Cum inside."
A broken, wounded whine tore from deep within his chest. Hips picking up the pace with vengeance, he chased his long awaited climax.
"I-I love you-" he choked out, the words spilling out freely as he squashed you against his chest. Burying himself as deep as he could go, he finally pushed himself over the edge. "I love you, I love you,loveyouloveyouloveyou-"
His entire body seized up like he was shot, as his orgasm burned through him like fire to oil. Loud moans vibrated against your neck while his cock pulsed hard inside you, eagerly flooding your walls with thick spurts of heat.
Even as he came - hips jerking with every spout - he kept chanting those two words like a mantra and a prayer all at once.
Loveyouloveyouloveyouloveyouloveyou...
When the last shudder finally wracked through him, Choso collapsed on top of you, utterly drained. His breathing was ragged, chest heaving against yours as he stayed buried deep inside you, still twitching with aftershocks.
The sudden silence was filled only by your shared, labored breathing.
Did he...? He had said he loved you?
Shutting your eyes, you let your limbs drop like jelly, breathing out a heavy, much needed sigh of relief. It's okay. Just enjoy the bliss while it lasts.
"...Are you okay?" he mumbled after a while.
"Mhm..."
A brief pause, his arms tightened around you.
“…Can I stay like this?” he asked quietly, almost boyishly shy. “Inside you. Holding you.”
"Yeah... stay," you slurred, wrapping your arms around his broad back, pulling him closer. It felt terrifyingly natural - like he was someone familiar, like you hadn’t been afraid of him just hours earlier. "Gonna sleep..."
Choso let out a soft, relieved sound and pressed his face into your neck, inhaling deeply as he snuggled against you like a housebroken, stray cat.
“You feel… right, here,” he muttered against your skin, hips giving one last roll, his softening cock pushing the cum inside deeper. The movement was gentle, but the intent behind it was unmistakably possessive.
“So full of me...”
One of his large hands drifted down to rest warmly over your lower abdomen, palm splayed wide, as if anchoring something precious there. His thumb traced a slow, soothing circle against the skin.
Faintly, some alive, rational part of your now mushy brain finally questioned, wait, could he get you pregnant?
However, bliss and drowsiness easily smothered that vital query.
Just don’t think about it. Leave it all for the morning. You’re tired, remember?
Not bothering to say anymore, exhaustion finally claimed you, dragging you under. The last thing you were faintly aware of was the gentle - almost reverent - stroking of his fingers against your hair, slow and steady, as if he was afraid you might disappear if he stopped.
For the first time in years, you fell asleep feeling completely and dangerously safe.
Choso stayed awake long after you drifted off, staring at the vulnerable, unguarded look on your sleeping face. His hand remained protectively over your lower belly, warm and unmoving, while he stayed nestled deep inside you.
“Mine,” he breathed so softly it was barely a sound, pressing one last kiss to your temple. “Both of you... I’ll keep you safe. Always.”