Chapter Text
No more restraints, not even one. If you were to die with regrets, surely, they wouldn't include the fact that you and Choso hadn’t been together.
Chapped lips met yours, tentative, as if testing the absurdity of this dream coming true. You responded hungrily to the brushing of his mouth, sliding your tongue into it in a desperate attempt to soothe your stinging desire.
The moment he had asked to kiss you, your hands instinctively reached for his hoodie, gripping the fabric as you pulled him closer. In a heartbeat, his lips crashed against yours—firm, eager, yet still tender. Your tongues swirled in a frenzied dance of eroticism, your mouths devouring every moan, every growl that escaped during this passionate encounter.
Yet the point of no return had been reached when he had apologized for the aching, bold hardness touching your inner thigh shamelessly.
"Sorry," the carmine hue on his face crept up to his ears. "It sometimes happens… it often happens when it comes to you" his words trailed off as he tried to conceal his embarrassment, averting his gaze for a moment before meeting your eyes again.
So naive, so sweet, watching him blush only fueled the fire within you, and in no time, that small spark of passion was turning into a raging inferno. You weren’t sure if it was the redness of his cheeks, the shy, apologetic look in his glossy eyes, or the unmistakable fact that his cock had stirred the moment your lips touched, making it clear just how much he craved you. But the space between you became unintentionally electric, and before knowing it, you found yourselves naked—clothes hastily thrown to the floor and the couch—driven by the impellent urgency to make up for all the time lost.
Choso, neither pure nor chaste as you had once imagined, was anything but innocent now. His rough hands moved over your body with a confidence that shattered the image of the shy, reserved man you thought you knew, roaming over the curves he had long admired but never touched.
Starved—yes, he had been starved far too long for his liking—and now, with you finally in his arms, he was ready to take whatever was necessary to satisfy his long-repressed carnal appetite.
He was frantic, almost hysterical, as he gripped your chest, your hips, and your ass, like if you might vanish at any moment. His tongue—expertly skilled, though you couldn’t imagine where he had learned—slid from your honeyed lips to your delicate neck, trailing down in hurried steps to the valley of your breasts. It ran over your turgid nipples, each touch sending jolts of pleasure straight to the already humiliating wetness clinging to your thighs. Then came your belly, tenderly caressed by feather-light kisses that descended lower and lower until he finally reached your eager core.
Oh yes, your pussy, the holy grail he had always yearned for. A blissful ecstasy for his taste buds as his tongue stroked your folds, allowing him to savor the divine nectar. Each flick was a worshipful exploration, amplifying the pleasure of your senses. The sweet, intoxicating flavor made him ravenous, as if he were consuming the very essence of your pure, unquenchable desire. He lost himself in the delicious warmth, relishing every moment, every gasp that fell from your lips, turning your pleasure into his obsession.
Obsession—Choso was obsessed with you, more than he could ever admit to himself. He seemed to know your body intimately during the practice of his ministrations, his knowledge honed each time he spotted you around the house, partially in your underwear as you got ready for work, or when you called him to hand you the forgotten towel from across the bathroom. Every image of you, every silhouette, was etched in his mind like a cherished photograph, one he treasured every time he locked himself away in his room to relieve himself. Each time, he poured out the very essence he longed for you to embrace within you, his desires blending with the memories of your tantalizing presence.
But now, now he was fucking your sacred entrance with his greedy tongue, devouring you as if you were his dinner for tonight. He could barely contain himself, the red tip throbbing almost to the point of cumming, when he heard you breathlessly calling out his name, your fingers intertwining in his hair, urging him to ravage your hole even more. Each moan that escaped your lips was a siren's call, driving him wild with desire. The sweet sound of your pleasure filled the room, and he found himself teetering on the edge of his own ecstasy, ready to unravel at any moment.
But no, that wasn’t the way, nor the moment to waste his precious seed. If he was going to have his first time with you, he wanted it to be unforgettable and uniquely intense.
So, he rose from your tempting clitoris, a slick trail of saliva mixed with your juices gleaming on his chin. For a moment, you felt abandoned; the knot in your belly was on the verge of bursting, but the building pleasure had been ruthlessly interrupted. Yet, you didn’t protest, especially when he crashed his lips fiercely against yours, forcing you to taste yourself. Your mind spun, dizzy with desire, as his hard cock pressed against your slit, begging for entry.
He moved slowly, detaching from you just enough to speak. Honestly, at any moment, the mere proximity to you could make him stain the couch with his milky flow, so it was best to put his most obscene desires into action right away.
“There’s something I’ve always wanted to do,” he confessed between ragged breaths. Your gaze turned curious, an eyebrow raised as you reacted to his statement with an eager reply, “What exactly?”
“Every time I saw you here in the kitchen… I longed to take you on that marble table… it has always been a secret, erotic dream of mine… I wonder if… you would consent.”
Oh Choso, that twisted mind of yours... obviously, you would consent!
Before he could finish his sentence, you seized his lips, teeth clashing as the kiss deepened fiercely. You wanted him to understand just how badly you craved his erotic need to become reality.
You pulled away, breaths mingling. “Just do it,” you urged, your heart racing.
Choso didn't need to be told twice. With a swift motion, he lifted you effortlessly from the couch and brought you to the marble table, setting you down on its cool surface—a stark contrast to the heat radiating off your bodies.
You leaned back, putting your dripping cunt on full display for him, just as he had imagined. Your messy hair fell over your face, your nipples hardening for the chill of the marble, thighs spread wide for him—only for him—your pussy clenching around nothing, ready to pull his precum-covered cock in.
He blanked out for a moment, stunned at how reality matched his wildest fantasies. But then his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them apart as his lips were on yours again. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, moaning into his mouth. The friction of his body against yours made you ache with need, every nerve in your body alight with anticipation. His swollen tip brushed against your entrance, teasing, pushing, but not yet giving you what you craved.
“Are you teasing me… Choso?” you groaned, arching your back against the cold surface, your hips grinding toward him, begging for more. He smirked, his hand gripping your ass while the other slid up your waist, fingers tracing the curves of your body with deliberate slowness.
“Patience,” he muttered, his voice low and strained with need, savoring the control he had over you. “I’ve waited so long for this moment—let me enjoy it.”
Sure, he would enjoy it, but you wanted his thick cock so badly that your cunt was pulsing and contracting, creating floods of creamy juices to guarantee him a swift, deep motion right down to your womb.
And Choso was no different; if he hadn't practiced so much self-control and restraint, there was no way he could have held back from smashing his absurdly lubricated shaft deep inside you. Instead, he gently caressed your face, giving you one of the sweetest yet most lustful looks of his life. He was right there, on the verge of enjoying his first time with you in the very place he had always fantasized about, but he wanted to make love to you, not come off as a feral predator hungry for mindless sex.
He positioned himself before your silken hollow, his elbows resting by your head, as his forehead touched yours. "You're beautiful... you have no idea how long I've waited for this moment." You smiled at him, tracing his jawline with your fingers and then trailing up to his ear, to his eyebrows, caressing his nose and lips. He felt so real, so tangible.
"Me too... we’ve both been stupid for not talking... but I promise we’ll make up for lost time." Your whisper soothed his soul, his heart almost bursting from the depth of your gaze. And then, finally, after kissing you again, he plunged into you. However, the moment his tip crossed the sacred gates of Heaven, he could no longer control himself. His initially slow, controlled and deliberate movement transformed into a hard, deep, unrestrained thrust. The sudden fullness made you gasp, your toes curling as the cool marble beneath you heightened every sensation.
Virgin Choso reached the Nirvana the moment your walls enveloped him—so warm, so soft, and so fucking greedy! A cradle of raw, erotic bliss.
Who were we kidding with slow movements? Neither of you needed to take it easy, especially given how voraciously your sticky cunt sucked him in. Choso set a punishing rhythm, pounding into you with relentless force, his pelvis slapping against your ass, the sound echoing through the room like a primal anthem.
Your nails dug into his back, leaving fiery red trails as you writhed beneath him, completely overcame by the intensity.
“Harder,” you gasped, your voice a frantic plea barely able to form words as the pleasure built inside you, pushing you closer to the edge. “Fuck me harder.”
Choso was all too eager to comply, slamming into you with such force that it felt like the marble table might crack beneath you. Each thrust hit that perfect spot inside you, the sensation so intense it bordered on overwhelming. The combination of pain and pleasure sent you spiraling, your moans transforming into screams of pure ecstasy.
Your walls tightened around him, squeezing his cock, your slickness allowing him to thrust even deeper and faster, but you weren’t ready to reach that apex just yet.
“I have to say,” you panted between messy moans, “I’ve had an erotic fantasy about this table too... there must be something special about it—” Your naughty words tumbled out in gasps as your body trembled under him, and Choso, still lost in the moment, slowed his thrusts just enough for you to speak more clearly.
"I want you to take me from behind," you admitted breathlessly as his movements gradually slowed.
“Oh...” was all he could manage, surprise and arousal clear in his eyes. He suddenly stopped, biting his lower lip, staring at you in disbelief. Who would’ve thought your secret fantasy was to be fucked in the kitchen doggy-style?
His eyes locked with yours for a brief moment, and a mischievous smirk spread across his face, one eyebrow lifting in clear understanding. Your confession was an open invitation for him to bend you over and smash his twitching cock into you again.
Without hesitation, Choso gripped your hips firmly, spinning you around and guiding you, pulling your lower half down so your feet found the floor, while your hands gripped the surface of the table for balance. He positioned you just right, your body arched, ass raised—exactly how you wanted it.
He was ready to fulfill your filthy, wicked imagination.
The half-curse found himself lost in contemplation of your harmonious form. Your derriere was perfection to him—round and firm, its curves sculpted to be admired. The way your body arched, revealing your inviting contours, left him breathless. His hand lingered for a moment, caressing the supple flesh, savoring how it responded to his touch.
He lifted his hand, ready to strike you before devastating your delicious core again, but his arm halted mid-air.
To spank or not to spank—that was the dilemma.
With your ass raised to the height of his pelvis, his swollen tip hovering, the only question swirling in his mind was whether to spank those exquisite cheeks of yours. He respected you far too much to risk disappointing your expectations.
His gaze traced the elegant curve of your back, lost in thought, fingers still gently caressing your soft flesh. His hesitation was evident—he was practically an open book before you now.
“Is something wrong?” you asked, your head buried between your arms, forehead resting on the marble that had warmed from your earlier performance. Choso’s mouth opened, but his words came out in a doubtful stutter.
“Can... I…” he began, his face flushed madly.
“Can you?” you replied, lifting your head from the marble to meet his gaze. You noticed his hands on your round mounds, fidgeting nervously. It was lavishly clear what he wanted.
“Can you spank me? Is that what you’re trying to ask?” you teased, your smile a transparent answer, daring him onward.
Of course he could!
Your invitation shattered his Hamlet-like doubts, aligning perfectly with his craving. With a rough yet controlled motion, Choso slammed harshly into you again, his hand coming down in a firm slap that resonated through the room, the sound of your vibrating cheeks echoing in the air.
Your grip around him tightened at the delightful sting of his hand, the twisted pleasure amplifying your desire. That dominance, that raw passion—so uncharacteristic of Choso—surpassed even your darkest fantasies. He was relentless.
He grabbed your hips tighter, thrusting into you, pumping with an almost feral intensity, smashing in and out without restriction. Every plunge made your body squirm and writhe, loudly begging for him to quell the insatiable hunger only he could satisfy.
With well-aimed thrusts, he continued to strike your cervix, the pleasure building in your lower abdomen so intensely that you nearly lost your grip on the table you were barely holding onto. Your hips crashed back against him, stars dancing before your eyes as you gasped his name, barely able to breathe. The sensation of your nipples brushing against the cold surface of the table heightened your delight, merging the sensations into a symphony of ecstasy.
The floodgates of your bliss opened, building to an unstoppable crescendo until you finally broke, cascades of pleasure spilling down your thighs, pooling around his cock. The delight only intensified as he withdrew his thick length and found your clit with his fingers, skillfully teasing it in purposeful circles, coaxing you to release the torrent of pleasure you had been holding back. He collected some of your essence, while the rest obscenely pooled around you both, drenching the floor beneath in the aftermath of your consuming climax.
Disgustingly satisfied with the mess he’d made of you, Choso kissed between your shoulder blades, then captured your lips with his and in an unexpected move, he brought his hand, covered in your juices, to his mouth, licking it clean. Each drop was as decadent as the sweetest syrup, like honey drizzled over ripe fruit. He delighted in the moment, waiting for the flavor to melt slowly, each taste awakening a hunger deeper than before.
Yet rest was a luxury he couldn’t afford—not until he’d filled you with every ounce of is personal elixir. With a swift motion, he lifted you away from the marble table, cradling you against him as you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. He carried you back to the couch, the very spot where your heartfelt confession had taken place, gently laying you down atop him.
As you descended gradually, every inch of his length slid effortlessly and furiously against your lubricated walls, filling you up in a way you’d never experienced before. He stretched you wide open yet again, thrusting deep, your cock-hungry pussy hugging him, eager to milk him dry. He grabbed your ass, fondling it avidly, and you took that as an invitation to move. Your hips ground against his pelvis, alternating between circular motions and an up-and-down rhythm, rising and falling against him. Choso sank deep into the couch, his head tilting back against the cushions as you rode him.
IDYLLIC was the only way to describe the scene unfolding. His half-lidded eyes roamed over your body, drinking in the sight of your parted lips moaning his name like a seductive chant— what a heavenly symphony, just for him. Your breasts bounced with each thrust, your angry, turgid nipples begging for attention, urging him to worship every inch of your exquisite curves.
He struggled to grasp your right nipple in his mouth, the fervent movements of your body making it a challenge. Still, he eagerly lapped and sucked, his lips tracing a fervent path across your skin, his hands wandering over your breast, squeezing it as if he truly wanted to drink something from it.
Then his teeth grazed the sensitive nub, and he inadvertently bit down harder than intended when his gaze landed on the bruises on your neck—remnants of that scumbag from your date. Those signs needed to fade; the presence of the idiot who had hurt you that night had to become a distant memory. He was determined to cover your body with his own marks, claiming you as his, his and ONLY HIS, and this time, you were fully consenting,
With each passionate bite and kiss, he etched his ownership into your skin, each mark a declaration that you belonged to him now. You were his personal canvas, and he intended to paint it with all the love he held within, layering each caress with a fervor that spoke of his devotion.
The bite made you quiver, and you let out a sultry moan as you continued to move against him, your clit grinding against the soft hair on his pubes, desperately seeking that perfect stimulation.
Noticing your movements growing erratic, weariness creeping in from your relentless ascent and descent upon his engorged shaft, he seized your cheeks, using the leverage of his legs to begin pounding into your puffy entrance with wild abandon. He glided in and out smoothly, aided by the generous flow of precum he released. He was savage—still sweet, but undeniably savage; the intensity of his groans crescendoed, perfectly harmonizing with the rhythm of your lewd sounds.
"Y/N, Y/N," your name became a haunting mantra on his lips, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy as he felt your tightness envelop him.
You didn’t even know whether to beg him to stop or to keep going. "Ah... that’s too much!" you screamed; your cunt already oversensitive from the previous intercourse. "I’m... I’m...!" Your words were muffled by your moans as he collided against your entrance, stimulating you from the outside while his red, swollen tip persistently caressed your G-spot from within.
"Please, come on me; do it." Choso had a kink for you squirting, apparently; his words were commanding yet pleading all at once.
The stimulation was incredible, sending you spiraling toward the precipice of bliss you craved. Your voice broke with ragged breaths as he pulled his length out from your thoroughly ravaged entrance, grinding against you, his tip teasingly tapping at your clit.
The combined pressure within and the friction on your sensitive bud created a masterpiece of sensations sending you careening over the edge. Your eyes squeezed shut, your body went rigid as you squirted all over him, your essence gushing out, splattering against his rigid dick, dripping down his legs, drenching the couch.
Completely exhausted, you collapsed against his chiseled chest, your hands covering your face.
“Just hold on a little longer; I’m right there with you,” he purred, caressing your back before sliding his cock back inside you. It glided in effortlessly, the pulsing vein brushing against your already contracted folds.
He resumed his fervent onslaught, matching the rhythm of his hips with desperate thrusts that lifted your body up on his shaft, ready to erupt.
The devastating overstimulation blurred your vision, leaving you enveloped in a haze of white ecstasy. “Choso…” you cried; your face buried in the crook of his neck. “I’m so sensitive right now… I’m coming again…” you declared as your umpteenth orgasm approached.
Choso increased the speed of his thrusts. "Oh, yes, come again… come with me, please."
He sought to bury himself deeper within you, each thrust forcing his tip to collide with your cervix. The knot in your belly formed again, and Choso felt his abdomen tightening as his seed was yearning to find its way to your womb.
"Your pussy… Feel how it grips me so tightly… how it pulls me in." he mumbled, his words dripping with a vulgarity that sharply contrasted his usual composed manner. This explicit side of him was fascinating; he had never been so audacious before. Typically submissive, Choso now radiated dominance, and you found yourself on the brink, ready to come again, at the sound of his commands and dirty talks.
"I… ah… don’t even know why…" His words fell into rhythm with the penetration of your blissful pussy. "I… waited… oh my… so much…" His self-reproach mingled with your pleasure, but you were too lost in your trance to pay attention to his monologue.
Tilting his head slightly, his gaze fierce and determined, he leaned closer, gallantly whispering in your ear, "Can I cum inside?"
You nodded absentmindedly with a compliant hum, that final consent being all he needed to unleash himself inside you. With one last powerful thrust, he pushed his cock in your cunt, filling you to the brim as he came, thick warmth spilling into you in heavy, hot bursts.
The thrill of his dense, abundant seed flooding your insides, dripping from your folds, triggered your own climax. Your body responded with raw urgency, squirting all over him, soaking him completely. Your releases collided in a breathtaking mess, his cum pooling around his pubes and sticking to your entrance and inner thighs. Both of you were left gasping for air, tangled together in a blissful haze of pleasure and paradisiacal satisfaction.
That was the best sex you had ever experienced, charged with lustful passion and incredible tenderness. You never would have imagined the evening would end like this—sitting on the couch, straddling your roommate, while your juices mingled together in that obscene and dirty display.
"Oh, shit," Choso breathed heavily, as if he had just run a marathon, his adonic torso covered in sweat as he cradled you in his arms. He looked at you like you were a goddess, a Venus before him—fantastic, absolutely fantastic, with your cheeks flushed red, your hair stuck to your skin, framing your features and your glossy eyes. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, slowly coming down from his high.
"You’re... so damn perfect," he muttered against your skin, his voice hoarse, still trying to catch his breath. "I could stay like this forever."
"Me too..." you responded, lifting his face to look into his eyes, kissing his lips gently. He had been your medicine that night, and perhaps, he could become your daily drug from now on.
As you relished the satisfaction of the evening’s passion, a wave of dizziness swept over you, exhaustion claiming your overused body as sleep began to pull you under. "I’m sleepy, Choso," you murmured, sighing heavily as you surrendered, nestled against his chest with him still throbbing inside you.
Choso tightened his embrace, letting one hand glide tenderly through your hair while the other traced purposeful paths down your spine, soothing you to a state of complete abandon. He kissed your forehead gently, whispering, "Rest now, love. I’ll never let you go again." His voice was a tender promise, as he held you close, feeling the rhythm of your breathing slow against him. For a moment, he simply watched you, his eyes soft with adoration, marveling at the peace that now rested between you both.
You had been one of the main reasons Choso began his journey toward his full humanity; he nurtured the purest love within his half-cursed heart. Now, he could hold you without shame, no longer casting furtive glances as if he were taking something forbidden. You were his universe, his everything—and finally, you were his to cherish openly.
"I love you..." he whispered to himself, still lacking the courage to say those words out loud. Yet, in your sleep, you somehow sensed it—the tenderness of his words cradling you like a soft lullaby.
In the stillness of the late night, as Choso himself was gradually losing his battle with sleep, his phone vibrated, stirring him from his state of surrender. He fished it out from the pocket of his pants, messily discarded on the couch where you’d been sitting. It was Yuuji, checking in to see how things were going.
“How’s it going? Is she crying?” he messaged, unable to fall asleep.
“Found a way to help her relax,” Choso replied smoothly, sending his brother a photo. The image captured you sweetly nestled against his shoulder, peacefully asleep—clearly naked—while he cleverly hid part of himself with your body, his face peeking over your shoulder.
Yuuji looked at the photo, clearly amused. “OOOOH!” he replied. “You gotta spill all the tea tomorrow, Aniki!”