Choso X Female Reader - Tumblr Posts - Page 2

STARTED LEVITATING PLEASE LOSER VIRGIN CHO MY BELOVED (he's a very fast learner and the bestest boy i wanna eat him up *sobs*)

loser virgin!choso (v inexperienced) dom!reader (slightly, just has more authority!) (also guys this is mad rushed pls spare me hajsjsjsj PT. 2?! MAYBE VIRGIN!CHOSO SERIES???)

loser virgin!choso always wondering how he ended up with such a pretty girl like you. him always getting shy and stuttering whenever you baby him into submission, not like it was much work anyway.

see, you knew that choso was a virgin, and you loved to be his first. and you considered that he needed time to think about it too. but when choso told you that he needed to know what pussy tasted like, who were you to say no?

and there he was, right in front of your wet heat. “my clit is right here choso. it’s very sensitive, you know that right?” you said while rubbing your clit, letting out soft moans here and there.

choso let out a shake breath, his mouth watering as you spread your legs, giving him a good view of what he was about to devour. “you can suck on her, give her kisses, eat her up just how you like it,” you said while running your fingers through his hair.

“are you sure?,” choso said with eagerness in his voice.

“I’m sure baby. show me how good you can make me feel,” you whispered to him.

choso then latched his lips onto your pearl, making your legs shake and grip on his air. you didn’t expect him to learn so quick, but you expect that for sure.

in just a few minutes, choso got so whiny and moaning into your cunt, and god, his tongue worked wonders for you. you definitely aren’t surprised that this man has already given you two orgasms in a row.

“c-cho! shit! slow down!” you gasped your hands scattering around the bed trying to find something to grasp on. and when I tell you this man would not let up.

tears almost filled your eyes as the overstimulation was hitting you hard, your third orgasm on its way. he gave your clit a few more sucks and licks and your orgasm hit your hard.

choso tilted his face up to look at you, his eyes widening and butterfly filling his tummy as he looked at your fucked out expression. your cream was all over his face, his own drool dripping from the corner of his mouth.

“y-you okay baby?,” he said pouting and rubbing your thighs

“you.. are the fastest learner I’ve ever met,” you said giggling while also trying to catch your breath.

tags: (y’all alr know 😈) @llllllllllllloser @lxnarphase @satoruwiki @demovamp @lotusgirl4 @rxddxvotion @nanam0-0n

DESPERATION

CHOSO always found himself depending on you to teach him about the new world. Feeling were too complex for him too. And lucky for him, you were more than ready to help him.

He didnt understand what that weird feeling on his genital cock, but baby's too shy to use that word? You were there to help him.

𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒖𝒑 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒘. 𝑰𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒔, 𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒉 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒖𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒄𝒌. ♥︎

It was an arousing sight-for both of you.

Moans and whimpers fell from his pretty lips even though he tried to muffle them with his hand. CHOSO could feel his cock drip pre-cum just from glancing at you. Who would blame him? Your perfect face, stained with tears because he was just so big♥︎ , your mouth full of his cock while your head bobbed up and down, dpit dribbling down your chin mixed with some of his pre-cum. It was just too much for the poor guy!!

And when you started touching your puffy clit, spreading your folds to give him a show? He was a goner, cumming right then and there. Warm spurts of cum spilled in your mouth and you swallowed them all.

Aw, he felt indebt to you like other times when you helped him in anyway?

He shouldn't worry, because this time you were going to show him just how you liked your pussy being treated.~♥︎

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

iamnotdeadyet owns this

Eternal Sunshine

CHOSO X READER! Cold mornings weren’t something you had been quite fond off. To be honest, you just weren’t a morning person. But waking up in the arms of your boyfriend has you rethinking. _________ ♫ INTRO (END OF THE WORLD) - ariana grande ❝ɪꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴜɴ ʀᴇꜰᴜꜱᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ꜱʜɪɴᴇ, ʙᴀʙʏ, ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ɪ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀ? ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ?❞

The first hint of dawn barely illuminated your room, it cast a gentle yet slightly noticeable yellow glow through the thin blue curtains. The cold air made its presence known by the slight frost that crept on the sides; as if trying to seep through it.

Outside, the world seemed still but content. Occasional cars passed by the road, and birds and their flock chirped, it disturbed the quiet but nothing too noisy, not too hush.

But inside, beneath a mound of thick, warm blankets and heavy duvet, were you and your boyfriend, Choso. Both of were you found to be snuggled deep within the layers, taking coverage to hide from the chill of cold mornings as you both held onto each other.

Choso's arms were wrapped snugly around you, body heat mingling with yours, creating a pocket of warmth that neither of you wanted to escape from just yet.

His sharp breaths tickled the back of your neck every time he exhaled; making you slightly squirm at the feel. Each one cast a whisper against your skin as Choso slept.

These wintry mornings, when time seemed to stand still and the rest of the world felt distant, are what you cherished most. In sleepless nights, leaving you to arise weary, you craved nothing but this; love in the way of touch.

Choso stirred first, his movements drowsy as he adjusted his position to face you. With a raspy grunt, his sleepy eyes blinked open as he adjusted to his surroundings. Eyes jaded, he fixed his gaze onto yours, staring deeply that made your stomach flutter. "Morning," he voiced, sounding hoarse while lifting a lazy arm to grab you closer to him.

"Morning," you replied barely above a whisper, not wanting to startle his relaxed self. It felt as if speaking louder might shatter the delicate, peaceful bubble that surrounded you both.

Without a word, you moved as close as possible to Choso, seeking his warmth against your skin. You lay your head on his chest, listening to the steady, slow beat of his heart, hearing a soft hum of content when doing so.

Moving his arm up to your spine, his calloused hand gently caressed your back, movements languid and tender. You twitch at the sudden sensation, but when feeling his hand move up and down your back, brings you a sense of solace. “It’s too cold to get up,” he retorts, almost in protest, while shifting around to make your body feel more secure in his grasp.

Your throat makes a noise in agreement, the sound vibrating gently against his skin. “Then let’s just stay here,” you suggest, looking up to meet his eyes as you await his answer.

The thought of even leaving the bed and its warmth while Choso is holding you with such care and closeness makes it sound unfathomable at this moment.

“Best plan you’ve ever had,” Choso chuckled lightly, stopping the caressing on your back to focus using his available hand. Before his hand comes up to brush a loose strand of hair away from your face, he lifts your chin to lock eyes; an imitate act he was fond of doing.

During releasing, he stroked your cheek once, twice, and on the third, he let his touch linger. Grasping the side of your cheek where he held a small part; interlacing his fingers through your hair, all the while holding you down back onto his chest.

You’d be lying if you said his touch wasn’t smooth, a stark contrast to the huge, scary man he was known to be. But here, in this quiet morning showing vulnerability, he was just Choso. The man with a tender heart and eyes that spoke of unspoken depths; your significant other.

A grin spread across Choso’s face, curious and endearing as he watched you through half-lidded eyes. The affection in his gaze was yearning for. Whatever he was doing to you was working with how badly it drew you in, compelling you to hold him onto you. You feel a small, yet noticeable squeeze he responds with.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, his hand trailing from your cheek down to trace the line of your jaw, then resting softly at the base of your neck.

Nodding, you melted into his touch, savoring the comforting warmth of his skin against yours compared to the cold room. “Only because you were here," you muttered slightly embarrassed at the confession, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“You know,” Choso’s voice was a faint, hushed tone. His lips grazed against the shell of your ear, making you quiver for a moment. “If I could stop time, it’d be right now.”

A smile tugged at your lips as lifted your neck to peer up at him, sharing eye contact. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, but open enough to stare fully into you. They softened further as he looked at you, and it was in moments like this, that you saw a side of Choso that was for you and you alone.

The thought made you feel hot in your neck, as it arose to flush against your cheeks.

“Me too,” you whispered back, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw with your fingertips, feeling this delicate skin there. He caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm before laying it back down on his chest, over his heart. The steady beat under your hand was a comforting reminder; deja vu in some sort, of the quiet mornings you had shared just like this one.

Neither of you spoke for a long while, simply enjoying the closeness and the rare opportunity to linger in bed. As the sky outside lightened from dim yellow to soft blue, the silence between you was filled with shared smiles and lazy, contented sighs.

Choso was the first to break it, shifting slightly, pulling you to get a good arm around you. When given the okay, you nestled your head against his shoulder; feeling your messy hair nestled beneath you while feeling the rise and fall of his chest with each breath he took.

“I wouldn’t mind cold mornings every morning,” he grunted, his hand returning to stroke your back under the blankets. His touch was gentle and soothing, tracing patterns that made you relax even more in his hold.

“You tell me,” with a whisper of a giggle, you make out the sound of Choso’s chuckle responding to you, vibrating through his chest, a low, warm sound that erupted butterflies everywhere around.

Fluttering your eyes closed for extra rest, you’re interrupted by someone lifting your cheek for the second time. Raising your head to meet his gaze, and what you saw in his eyes—a mixture of adoration and sincerity—made you stop your plans of complaining for intruding on your “beauty sleep”.

Choso leaned in, closing the small gap between you, and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was slow and unhurried, evident by the lack of sleep you both got. Moving his hand from your cheek, he slides it into your hair, intertwining the soft strands with his fingers. His lips moved against yours tenderly, pulling away only to steal another, deeper this time, as if he couldn’t get enough.

When you finally broke the kiss to catch your breath, Choso chased your lips with a small, needy peck that made you laugh against his smooth lips.

With the hand grasping your hair, he pushes it towards his face and together, connecting your foreheads to touch as you both collect your breaths. Choso’s fingers moved down to trace the contours of your face, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear that escaped due to his holding as your eyes remained shut, taking in the pleasure. “I love these quiet moments with you,” he confessed, matching the smile that was gracing your lips.

“I love them too,” you replied, feeling a warmth spread through your body and up your spine. It was all Choso—his presence, his touch, his love. You knew that no matter how cold it got outside, how horrid the night had been before, with him by your side, you’d always feel the safest.

“You know,” he mused after a moment, his forehead leaving yours to gaze at your drowsed eyes. “we should probably think about getting up eventually. Can’t call out again this week.”

“A few more minutes,” you protested, not ready to let go of this peaceful interlude. The thought of leaving this comforting sanctuary seemed almost a crime.

Choso laughed at your desperate expression. Moving his head to lie on the pillow, he encouraged you to lay back on his chest. “A little longer then,” he agreed, and you could hear the cocky smirk in his voice.

As the morning lazily drifted by, you both lay there, wrapped up in each other. There was a comfort in the silence, each breath and touch a language only the two of you understood.

Occasionally, one of you would whisper something trivial—a comment about the weather, a thought about breakfast—but it was the silence that carried the weight of your words, filled with understanding.

With a final breath, you lifted yourself, quickly making pace. Knowing yourself, if you sat there on the bed for a short time, you would fall back into his embrace.

Sorting through the day’s necessities, you hear the creeks of the floor, telling you Choso has risen as well. Walking to use the bathroom, a gentle tug on your hand stopped you from moving further. “Hey,” he said, drawing you close against his chest, “thanks for this morning. It means more than you know.”

It was your turn to smile up at him. “Always,” you promised, giving him a reassuring squeeze to show the sincerity in the words you were telling him.

As he lets you return to your doings, Choso leans down to give you one more gentle kiss, which you return, smiling against.

@siythn all rights reserved!

Hi, love your writing style and stories. Would you be be able to take a request for a like enemies to lovers with Choso? Just a thought.

Scars Written Deep

CHOSO X READER! You've fought with enemies plenty of times. But when defeated, waking up in their bed is the last place you want to find yourself in. _________ ♫ GILDED LILY - cults ❝ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴏᴏʟ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʟᴏᴡᴇꜱᴛ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ❞

Pain explodes through your body, white-hot and searing as an unknown force of a blast slams into you. It felt like being struck by a thunderbolt, the power immense and merciless. You were hurled backward with brutal force, your body flung like a ragdoll into the wreckage of what had once been a formidable barrier.

The impact was devastating. A wave of intense pain exploded through you as you crashed into a heap of twisted metal and broken concrete. The agony that followed was sharp and all-consuming, shooting through every nerve in your body with unbearable intensity. Your ears rang with a high-pitched whine, the sound of your pulse loud in the unsettling silence that followed the blast.

You can't quite remember how you came to be here. All your brain can pick up are you leaving home, coming here, fighting Choso, then an explosion. With the agony you find yourself in, you're surprised you can even think.

As you open your eyes, coughing slightly as dust tries to find an entryway into your lungs, you start to squirm to get up. It isn't over like this, some stupid explosion from who knows where. If you were to die, you'd rather it be in the hands of an enemy than be one unknown.

It only takes you a few seconds to realize you can't move, as you twist your head to look back, you're greeted with a slab of metal meeting your torso, down to your legs, covering half your body. Gasping for breath under the oppressive weight of the debris, you now feel the pain. It's hot and searing, radiating from your legs, trapped beneath the rubble.

The sharp, jagged edges of slabs of metal dig into your skin, the pressure is immense and immobilizing. Every attempt to move sent new waves of excruciating pain coursing through your body, each more punishing than the last. With a gasp of hope and widening eyes, you try and twist your body to no avail.

Beneath you, the ground was littered with rubble and broken glass; an uncomfortable to your stomach, reminding you of the force pressing into your back, pinning you down. You try to move, to escape the prison of debris, but torture lances through your body, anchoring you in place.

A minute falls past and a desperate cry leaves your lips, drowned out by the ringing in your ears, the sound of your distress is soon lost amidst the aftermath of the explosion.

Tears of frustration now fall down your cheeks as you try and move the metal. It won't budge, it's stuck on you; and now it's slowly starting to click, that this will be your fate. Either Choso will leave you here, making you run out of needed resources, or you die at his hands. You can't accept both, you'll find a way.

Every breath seems to be a battle in your body, chest heaving to draw in air through the crushing weight pinning your legs. You try to move once more, a whimper escaping your lips as a sharp pain lanced through you, the world tilting dangerously.

It seemed like pain engulfed you, immediate and overwhelming, its claws digging into your flesh with merciless intensity. Your head throbbed violently, a pulsating rhythm that matched the sharp, jagged breaths escaping from your crushed lungs.

The world around you started to blur into a chaotic swirl of dust and shadows, each particle of air heavy with the scent of destruction and cursed energy.

Your vision is now hazy, tears of ache and anger welling in your eyes, making the dusty air around you seem to swim. The dim, shadowy outline of the warehouse wavered in and out of focus, the sturdy walls now nothing more than a crumbling tomb.

In the disorienting aftermath of the explosion, your thoughts turned briefly to Choso, not out of concern (you'd rather be caught dead than ever show a hint of worry for that man), but out of a wary calculation.

If he was down, it could be your chance to escape, or if he approached, you'd need to be ready to defend yourself, even in this weakened state. But your thoughts were quickly overwhelmed by the raw, physical pain dominating your senses.

Your tiny glimpse of hope diminished as the realization started to set in.

Through the haze of dust and debris, a figure began to take shape, moving steadily through the chaos. You couldn't feel the massive amount of tears that you cried, mistaking it with dust. You feel your heart sink in a pit in your stomach at the sight.

It was Choso, appearing seemingly unscathed by the explosion that had incapacitated you. His posture was upright, his steps measured and calm—a stark contrast to the chaos around him.

The rivalry between you had always been fierce, a clash of power and wits, testing each other's limits at every encounter. But now, as your consciousness flickered dangerously low, you saw him differently.

There was a sway in his step, a slight falter that betrayed his disorientation from the explosion. His usual composed demeanor was shattered; even from a distance, you could sense his confusion.

Your heart sank further, not just from fear or pain, but from a deep, ugly seething resentment. There he was, your enemy, walking freely while you lay pinned and powerless. The sight of him, so composed amid the destruction, fueled a surge of anger through your veins, momentarily overshadowing the pain.

You strained to keep your eyes open, to keep him in sight, not willing to be caught off-guard. His figure became clearer as he approached. There was no sign of hesitation in his steps, no flicker of concern across his features—just the same cold, detached expression he always wore when facing you.

The familiarity made you want to die.

Your breaths came in shallow, ragged gasps, each inhaling a battle against the pain and the weight crushing down on you. It took up too much strength to keep your head lifted; finally giving it a few moments of peace as you felt your cheek meet the cold ground.

You tried to muster the strength to call out, to taunt or threaten him, to do anything to affect that stoic demeanor. But your voice faltered the words dissolving into a pained groan as darkness edged your vision. You tried to lift your head for a second, gritting your teeth against the surge of pain. "Choso," you managed to gasp out, though it felt like speaking through a mouthful of glass. Your voice was hoarse, barely audible above the settling debris.

He paused, his head turning sharply in your direction, his eyes—those deep, unfathomable pools—locking onto yours. There was a pause, a heartbeat of silence that stretched between you two. Then, surprisingly, his footsteps resumed, this time more deliberately, closing the distance between enemy lines. It was like you could feel the vibration of his footsteps, telling you your ultimate fate.

As Choso came closer, your determination faltered, the edges of your consciousness fraying under the onslaught of pain and imminent defeat. The world around you began to dim, the sounds of the crumbling warehouse fading into a distant echo.

With the last of your strength waning, your head lolled to the side, your eyes struggling to focus on Choso as he continued his approach.

Your mind screamed to stay awake, to remain vigilant, but your body betrayed you, sinking deeper into the cold, encroaching shadows of unconsciousness. The last thing you saw before darkness claimed you was the blurred image of Choso bending over you, his hands reaching out—whether to help or to harm, you couldn't tell, you didn't care.

The sight of him, an enemy moving unchallenged through the debris toward you, was the last image that burned in your mind before the darkness finally claimed you, swallowing everything into silent oblivion.

- ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱᴋɪᴘ -

Consciousness returns to you like a slow, creeping tide, pushing through the haze of disorientation and throbbing pain. Your eyelids flutter open, revealing a ceiling that is unfamiliar—smooth, white, and utterly foreign. Panic grips you instantly. Your heart races as you try to move, but agony lances through your body, anchoring you to the spot with its fierce intensity.

With a groan, you grip the sheets as you turn your head, inspecting the room you find trapped in. You're lying on a soft surface, a bed, most likely, but the comfort it promises is overshadowed by the confusion swirling in your mind.

How did you get here? The last thing you remember is the explosive clash with Choso, the pain, and then darkness. Now, here you are, in a room that looks nothing like the battleground you last saw.

The walls are plain, adorned with only a few pictures, and there's a window with curtains partially drawn, letting in just enough light to illuminate your surroundings. Attempting to sit up, a sharp pain shoots through your stomach, forcing a gasp from your lips. It's then you realize you're bandaged heavily, your movements restricted by the swathes of gauze wrapped around your chest and legs.

You lift the sheets to be met wearing an oversized t-shirt with baggy sweatpants. Under it are bandages wrapped around what seems to be every inch of your torso, while some are found on your left and right legs. A hint of red bleeds through the plaster, making you reminisce on earlier events.

"Easy. You're not ready to move yet."

The voice is startlingly familiar, causing another spike of panic. Your head snaps to the side, and there he is—Choso, standing just a few feet away, his expression unreadable. How? Why? When?

"What are you doing here?" Your voice is a hoarse whisper, fear mingled with confusion. "Why am I here?"

Choso doesn't move closer, respecting the distance between you, perhaps understanding that his presence alone is enough to unsettle you further. "You were injured. I brought you here to heal," he explains, his tone neutral. It's unsettling.

"This is a trap," you accuse, though the effort of speaking sends a fresh wave of pain coursing through you. You're not even sure of your own words, but the distrust has deep roots, hardened by past conflicts.

"It's no trap," Choso replies calmly, face not marking any emotion. "You were in no condition to be left alone. Whether you believe me or not, I couldn't just—" He stops, seemingly searching for the right words. "I couldn't leave you there."

Your mind races, trying to process his words and his actions. None of it makes sense. Why would your enemy choose to save you? What for? Is he lying? Why? Why, why why? The suspicion lingers, but your body betrays your desire to act on it, too weak to even sit up fully.

Choso watches you struggle briefly, his gaze intense. "You need to rest. Your body hasn't healed enough for you to be moving around."

"I don't need anything from you," you manage to grit out, though the pain is draining, making it hard to focus. Giving up, you lock eyes with him.

For a moment, neither of you speaks; the air is charged with a tense silence. 

Then, without another word, Choso turns and walks towards the door. Before exiting, he pauses and looks back. "There's food and water on the nightstand when you're ready," he says, indicating a small wooden table nearby laden with a jug of water and a bowl covered with a cloth. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything."

With that, he exits the room, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him. The sound of his footsteps recedes, and you're left alone, grappling with a cocktail of emotions—confusion, anger, vulnerability.

Each breath you take is a reminder of your physical state, the pain a constant, nagging presence that refuses to be ignored. If you could, you would run up and take him out from behind, give him a piece of the pain you've found familiar too. Your confusion of why runs deeper than your anger though.

Lying back against the pillow, you take a moment to assess your situation. The room is quiet, save for the soft rustle of leaves outside and the distant clatter of utensils. Choso's presence in the next room is unsettling yet strangely reassuring in a way you can't quite understand. Why would he help you? What did he stand to gain from your survival?

The questions swirl in your mind, but the exhaustion from your injuries and the effort of the brief interaction weigh heavily on you. Despite your distrust and your instincts screaming for you to get up and leave, your body has other ideas. The pain pins you down, and the fatigue is overwhelming.

As minutes tick by, your eyelids grow heavy, the edges of your vision blur, and despite your best efforts to stay alert, sleep begins to claim you once more. Before you drift off, a part of you acknowledges the need to heal, to regain your strength. You'll need it if you're to confront Choso about his motives if you're to escape this place. If you're still willing to fight him after this.

But for now, your body wins the battle against your mind, and you sink into a reluctant, uneasy rest, the sound of Choso moving quietly in the kitchen a distant, almost comforting background noise. As sleep envelops you, it's with the faint hope that when next you wake, you might be strong enough to seek the answers you need—or ready enough to fight if it comes to that.

- ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱᴋɪᴘ -

Weeks passed in a strange, silent routine as you slowly recovered in the unfamiliar house. Choso was a constant, albeit quiet, presence. Each day, he would come into your room to check on your wounds, his movements precise and methodical.

He hardly ever spoke during these visits, only offering brief nods or the occasional instruction on how to care for your injuries. You, trapped in a mixture of convalescence and confusion, the only response you would give him was a curt nod. You watched him in a wary silence, your mind buzzing with unasked questions and unvoiced suspicions.

One afternoon, as the sun filtered through the curtains casting long shadows across the room, Choso entered with his usual tray of medical supplies. He approached your side, his eyes briefly meeting yours before focusing on the bandages wrapped around your torso. As he began to unwind the soiled bandages with careful hands, the silence felt heavier than usual.

You watched his focused expression, noting the way his brow furrowed slightly in concentration. The room was quiet except for the soft rustling of the bandages and your shallow breathing. Something about the stillness of the moment, mixed with the weeks of pent-up confusion and frustration, made the words bubble up inside you, unbidden but unstoppable.

"Why are you doing this?" you blurted out, propping your arms up to get a good look at him. Your voice is a little hoarse from disuse in such conversations.

Choso paused, his hands stilling on the bandage. He didn't look up immediately, and for a moment, you thought he might just ignore your question and change of position. But then he straightens up slightly, meeting your gaze with a steady one of his own.

"Because it was necessary," he said simply.

"That's not an answer," you pushed back, your confusion turning into frustration. "Why me? Why save me, care for me, when all we've done is try to destroy each other? What do you want from me?"

Choso sighed a deep, almost inaudible sound. He resumed his task, breaking eye contact as his fingers deftly replaced the old bandage with a fresh one. "I don't expect you to understand. Not yet. But know this—I don't want to see you destroyed. Our enmity. . .it doesn't have to define everything."

"You expect me to just accept that? After everything?" Your tone was incredulous, expressing your anger and frustration, eyes searching his for any answer or hint of deceit.

He finished taping the new bandage and finally looked up, his expression earnest. "No, I don't expect acceptance, not immediately. But I do hope for understanding, eventually. There's more at stake here than our grievances."

You lay back against the pillows, processing his words. The idea that Choso, of all people, might have reasons beyond what you could immediately understand was difficult to grasp. It didn't erase the history or the pain, but it added a layer of complexity to a situation you had wanted to view in black and white.

"So, what now?" you asked after a moment, your voice softer, tinged with a reluctant curiosity, eyes drifting towards his.

"Now, you heal," Choso replied, his voice firm but not unkind. "And when you're ready, we'll talk. There's much to discuss, about why this all happened, and where we go from here."

As he packed away the medical supplies, you lay in silence, staring at the ceiling but seeing nothing, your thoughts a whirlwind.

There was so much you still didn't know, so many questions yet to be answered. But for the first time since you woke up in this unfamiliar place, you considered that perhaps there might be reasons worth listening to—even from a foe.

- ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱᴋɪᴘ -

Gradually, as your strength returned, the walls of the room that had confined you began to feel less oppressive, more like boundaries that could be pushed.

With cautious steps, you began to explore the house, curiosity tugging at you with each discovery. It struck you as odd, seeing Choso in such a domestic setting contradictory to the view you've always seen him as.

The house was simple and modestly furnished, but there were personal touches—a framed picture here, an old, well-loved book there—that made you reconsider the man you thought you knew only as a rival.

One afternoon, feeling stronger and more sure-footed, you ventured into the kitchen. It was neat and organized, with pots hanging in orderly rows and spices lined up like little soldiers. You touched the counters, the cool stone grounding, as a thought blossomed in your mind—a quiet thank you could be expressed in the universal language of a shared meal.

If you told yourself two months ago you'd be willing to cook Choso food, you would've cried from the hysterical shock of the statement. But as the days seem to pass, you can't ignore it any longer. The care he's bestowed onto you, you have to give something in return.

You found ingredients in the refrigerator and pantry—vegetables, herbs, some rice, and chicken. Cooking was a familiar, almost comforting routine, and as you chopped and stirred, you found a rhythm that felt meditative, healing in its own right. The aroma of herbs and simmering sauce filled the kitchen, weaving a warm, inviting atmosphere.

By the time you finished, the sun had dipped below the horizon, and the house had grown quiet with the deepening evening. You set the table, placing dishes of steamed rice, herb-roasted chicken, and a side of vegetables neatly arranged. A note beside the plate simply read, "Thank you," a token of gratitude from someone who still harbored doubts but was learning maybe not all was as it seemed.

Exhaustion from the day's activities caught up with you, and after setting everything up, you retreated to your room, your body demanding rest. Sleep came surprisingly easy, a deep, restful state that enveloped you wholly.

When Choso returned, it was much later. The house was silent, save for the soft ticking of the wall clock in the hallway. He paused as he entered the kitchen, a hint of surprise registering on his features when he saw the spread on the table. A small hint of a smile graced his lips, rare and fleeting, as he read the note you'd left. He sat down, alone yet somehow not by your presence, and served himself.

As he ate, the flavors and care put into the meal spoke silently of bridges being built, even if those bridges were tentative and unspoken. It was a small gesture, but for Choso, it was a significant acknowledgment of the complex, shifting ground between you. 

Tonight, the house felt a little less like a battleground and a little more like a home, even if just for a moment.

In your room, you slept on, unaware of the small breakthrough, the smile you'd brought to a weary face, and the silent thanks returned in kind for a meal shared in spirit if not in presence.

@siythn all rights reserved!

AUTHORS NOTE! - i tried best i could, ngl it was pretty challenging to fit a way to include enemies to lovers, but i hope you enjoy! ღ

A whole carne asada with the familia :)

♡ My lovely Choso ♡

this is so choso coded pls😭

"hes insane and kills people" ok but he whimpers

now channeling this new mentality

just caught sight of my bed hair in the mirror and it's giving choso