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chosoclub · 2 months

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SUNDAY MORNING ⋆ CHOSO KAMO

PAIRING — choso ° f!reader GENRE — lazy sunday au!smut!oneshot WORD COUNT — 1.7k TAGS — MDNI ° fingering (f!receiving) ° some smooch smooch ° drooling ° slight spit play ° slight voyeurism ° dirty talk (i didn't overdo it TRUST) ° giving gentle dom!choso a chance to shine CONSPECTUS — The sun like a bright, amber blanket, veils you and Choso as the two of you spend a lazy Sunday in bed.

The golden sun peeks behind the window shades, the partitions separating the light into smaller seams that overlook the bed. Choso softly snores next to you; his breaths are dense, and his eyelids are molded perfectly, resting against the pillowcase. His hair spreads across the pillow, strands idle on his forehead; the rest of the dark mane is a tangle near his temple. You reach over and plant a kiss against his cheek. His black eyelashes twitch before resting on his waterline again.

The lingering of your lips has him fluttering his eyes open, umber retinas melt into yours, and the edges of his eyes curl when he smirks. Good morning, he rasps, voice like honeysuckle, bitter from the long night of slumber, sweet at the sight of you.

Under the covers, his hand moves with a smooth slink to your waist. It’s unexpectedly cold in contrast, but it slips behind your lower back and scoots you closer to his abdomen. He leans to kiss the spot between your jaw and neck.

“How’d you sleep?” He murmurs under the hood of your jaw.

“Not bad. Did you sleep well?” He emerges back to face you, smiling.

“Yeah, I did.” His hand tips your back closer to lean against his torso. His chest is warm; you can smell the trail of his cologne from the day prior. He rests his chin atop your head, saying, “We can stay here, like this for the day. How’s that sound?”

His words reverberate when your forehead is against his throat. You chuckle, first at the vibrations of his nodes, second at the suggestion.

“You wish, I have too much to do.”

He brings his other arm to crawl under you, encircling around your upper back. He rests it there, sighing before squeezing his biceps slightly around your arms. His muscles are protruding, and arteries veiled by the beige skin begin to seep through even though he isn’t pressing hard enough that you can’t escape.

“Looks like you don’t have much choice.” He presses a kiss to your scalp and shuffles you closer to his chest.

You mumble against his skin that this isn’t funny. The only response is another kiss atop your head. He lets you pry from his arms, a pout revealing itself when you detach from his skin.

“But it’s still early. Can’t you stay a little while longer?” He softly whines. It’s not a tone you hear from him often, a slow mutter; It’s dissimilar to his normal, intense, and quiet demeanor. His eyes gaze into yours, slow blinking, trying to lure and trap you within their conditions: staying in bed all day. Before you can process his movement, despite how slow it is, he has his arm trailing your waist again; this time, his fingers softly grip the flesh of your hip. C’mon, it’s Sunday. You should rest, he coos. He’s like a siren and you’re the delible sailor who is risking plunging into his trap until he has his claws sunken into your skin.

He leans over and lingers his lips over your collarbone. Just a little while, he adds. He kisses the area, then travels up your neck for another kiss. He’s four kisses deep on your neck when you realize it’s too late for you; without even realizing it, you sink like an anchor straight into the perimeter of a bear trap resting on the deep-sea sand.

He reaches your chin, pressing his plush lips against the hollow of your mouth. You melt into him, his bottom lip is warm and inviting, and the tip of his tongue is soft as it slowly probes at the divets of your lips. Letting him in, accepting delicious defeat, you tilt into the kiss, and when he hangs his mouth open, you mix your tongue with his. His mouth is dry, and you can taste the slumber from the ridges of his tongue. The kiss turns messy quickly; slick, pink lips that nibble at yours. Drool seeps out of Choso’s mouth that you lick up against his chin — He groans in response, unknowing that something so trivial as you tonguing and swallowing his spit could make him rock hard and have him dragging your pelvis against his. He hovers his hand under your shirt, reaching your breast and gently taking your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger, a soft whine escaping your lips when he flicks the bud. It leads him to push his mouth even closer to yours, the sloppy, wet kiss full of warmth and desperation, your chin and upper lip covered in his spit.

He’s swallowing every gasp that escapes your mouth as his cold hand now hesitates over the waistband of your panties, as if silently asking is this okay? As if the heat that has overtaken your cheeks, your heavy breaths, and the viscous sap that pools in your cunt aren’t already enough of an answer.

His kisses settle to quick, wet pecks on your face before he pulls away, “god, you’re so sexy when you’re like this.”

“Like what?”

“Desperate for me.”

Something about his words and how his lips glisten as the morning sunlight creeps up the bed has heat traveling up your abdomen. Choso smirks, bringing his middle and ring finger up to his lips, coating the digits in saliva. Tipping his head forward, idle strands falling and framing his dark eyes full of intention, he scoots his hand under the waistline, cold fingers caressing over the goosebumps on your skin and prying your thighs open. When his middle finger reaches the opening of your pussy, collecting the wetness that’s already formed, your eyes roll back into your head, and your eyelids succumb to the pleasure. It’s acute the way he watches you; You’re desperate to have him kiss you again, a dry film already taking over your lips, but you know it won’t happen. He’s honed in on watching you get off from his fingers.

He slides his middle finger up the middle and to your clit, the soft, slick spot already rosy and sensitive. A moan escapes your lips, causing him to pick up speed, and despite your eyelids hanging low, you can see Choso tilt his chin up in satisfaction before pressing his lips against your neck. He draws a tight circle around the boundaries of your clit, ring finger pushing past your entrance – He groans against your skin when he feels you shamelessly buckle your hips in rhythm with his thrusts. He retreats his fingers, twisting them like coils as he enters again, making you writhe and whine against his jungle of hair.

Mmm, he hums lowly, “So wet, listen to the sound of that,” he slides his middle finger inside, pressing against your swollen walls. And you do hear the flow of your pussy, coating his fingers, the squelch that makes your toes curl against his calves. Beckoning your pelvis with the two fingers, Choso tips your hips forward against his hand and the bed to get more leverage and allow you to bear your hips to his thrusts. He draws his tongue against your neck, laving in slow circles sending tingles up your back, and draws his coated middle finger to slide up your swollen clit until you’re whimpering against his ear; The molecules in the air are fizzing as the coils inside your pussy rend, the heat overwhelming and making you downright delirious. He picks up pace inside your walls, pushing his fingers until he’s knuckle-deep. Choso keeps his cheek against your neck, listening to your moans resonate against his skin. You tighten your folds against his fingers as you feel your climax crescendo. He draws his fingers out to the fleshy tips before pressing them inside once again, swirling them within the confines of your cunt. When his thumb reaches over to your pearly clit, gently pressing and stimulating the rosebud, it’s game over. His fingers have you oversensitive, writhing and moaning against him, which only has Choso going faster and his dick growing harder.

“You’re so sweet when you’re trying to come from my fingers,” Choso peers down under the covers and at your hips that buck and thrust against his digits in desperation. He’s twisting his fingers knuckle-deep again and suckling at a spot on your collarbone until it’s bright red and glistening with spit. “I know you got it in you, baby,” he adds.

“It feels – ah! – too good,” you arch your back, whimpering helplessly into the covers. He curls his two fingers inside the pillows of your pussy, relaxing them, drawing them out, back in, and curling them again, still keeping your clit stimulated until you become an arousal-filled, overstimulated mess. You orgasm all over his fingers, moaning against his chest at the sensitivity of your cunt. Choso pauses to draw his fingers out slowly, your eyes half-lidded, watching him bring the digits into his mouth and lick up the honey-coated fingers while his burnt umber eyes stare into yours. He relishes at the sight of you, strands of hair stuck to the glisten of your forehead, mouth hung slightly open, and eyes rolled back. It makes him feel proud to be the only one to have and see you like this, pussy spilling pearly-white cum and lips sultry to kiss him. The corners of his mouth quirk, watching your breathing slow as you float back to Earth. He drops his arm over your upper back to drag you against his chest. He doesn’t mind your sweat, in fact kissing your shiny forehead and saying,

“See? I truly meant just a little while.”

“So unfair,” you mumble.

“You can get me back when you have the energy,” He separates your forms to look down and shoot you a wink.

You’re too tired to say another thing. The potential responsibilities of the day dissipate until you can’t even remember why you wanted to leave in the first place. The sun isn’t even near its peak position, and Choso’s chest is so warm, and the way he smiles at you is lethargic. He presses a kiss to your lips, you taste of yourself and his spit as your heavy eyelids set in the amber light.

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