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seiwas · 11 months ago

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ari 🥺

waaaah i swear you always have the nicest things to say!!!

i'm getting to this so late too, but thank you so much for taking the time to read this and for leaving such lovely tags!!

and wAAH u know this is kinda my first dip into writing choso so i was rlly nervy abt this but i'm glad you find him cute 🥺 AND TRULY SO BABYGIRL YES

i think him buying flowers for his brothers is SO fitting and i think he fits right in at the animal shelter too 🥺 literally cannot get that image of him playing with the puppies out of my head and being so unbothered jhsbdfsjd kissing ur braincells for that

and YES i think choso has pretty handwriting too (either that or just absolutely god awful TERRIBLE AHAHA) i think it's cos. he spends so much time trying to perfect it so he can teach his siblings 🥺

i swear writing their interactions felt SO AWKWARD and idk if thats a good thing. its like. i felt how awkward the conversations were HAHAH i'm glad you find it cute 🥺 and gentle 🥺

and yes... ofc... u Get Me. like you always do. i did search up the flower symbolisms and did mean for them to represent that 🥺 i'm so glad you noticed it!! it's so satisfying and makes me feel all fuzzy inside!!!

i am crossing my fingers i get to continue this soon bc ur comments have Touched Me like they always do!!!!!!

grow on me like a dog loved fondly: prologue | kamo choso

wc: 1.0k

summary: your regular to the flower shop is more than what he seems.

contains: written with f!reader in mind but can be read as gn!, animal shelter employee choso x flower shop owner reader, implied that reader is shorter than choso, flowers, small talk.

a/n: the promised choso drabble! depending on how this is received, i intend for this to be the prologue to a longer choso fic i have in mind!

You have a regular on the weekends.

Business in the flower shop tends to be slow during winter, with less occasions having the need for flowers and even less buds blooming during the season.

But even with the expected decline in customers, Saturdays always guarantee one—

The bells attached to the store doors jingle, allowing in a gust of cool air that tickles your cheeks from where you’re crouched down. The peonies in your hands were delivered just yesterday, the ends of the stems needing a slight trim to keep them fresh for longer.

You turn, standing up to face your visitor. A purple scarf is wrapped high around his neck, with white fleece running down the length of his arms—a sort of undershirt to the short-sleeved uniform worn atop it. The outfit is familiar enough, but what truly distinguishes him are the two spiky pigtails on the sides of his head.

There are a few things you’ve managed to pick up from four-line exchanges with your regular (six if you’re lucky): 1) he works at the animal shelter a few streets away, 2) the flowers he buys are for the front desk, a weekly replacement he deems necessary to keep the place looking alive, and 3) who he is, his name—

—‘Choso’, if the tag on his uniform says anything.

The tag that is now, also, just a hand’s reach away from you.

You look up, pocketing your plant nippers. The peonies dangle between your fingers.

“W-welcome!” you stutter, focusing on the thin metal chain running across his nose.

It’s new, an addition that intrigues you more about the man in front of you.

The look he gives you is lazy, gaze deadpan, almost empty. Anyone else might find it snobbish and off-putting, but you’ve gotten used to it—an almost magenta puffiness that surrounds his eyes, bags of fatigue that usually hang underneath.

He continues to stare, unmoving.

Considering all your previous interactions, you’ve realized, he isn’t scary or rude or anything of that sort—he’s just awkward.

A bit quiet and unbothered, maybe, but still just awkward. You don’t think he’s ever started an interaction with you first.

“Is there any flower in particular that you’re looking for?” you ask, motioning around your store.

The selection is limited this season—a few camellias and clusters of Japanese primrose with an abundance of peonies and daffodils.

His head turns as he glances around the store, pigtails bobbing slightly with each movement. When he faces you again, he shrugs, voice deep and firm as he asks, “Do you have any recommendations?”

It’s an odd feeling, borderline awkward and nervous; you have no idea why your mind is blanking.

“Um,” you clear your throat, tucking the peonies between your fingers into your apron pocket, “daffodils are bright and friendly, good for entryways and front desks, I think.”

He eyes the daffodils to your right, buckets of stems holding yellow and white. The store stays quiet for what feels like a good minute before he nods, agreeing to your suggestion.

“The usual?” two clusters, wrapped in newspaper.

Your question echoes throughout the shop, lingering while you pick at which daffodils look best.

“Yes, but two of them.” he answers in monotone, before adding on, a soft hesitancy, “Please.”

You smile to yourself, picking more daffodils for another bunch.

Both of you make your way to the cashier, another bout of silence surrounding you as you crumple newspaper and pull at tape. He always watches, you notice, his focus set on your practiced handling of stems and leaves.

You look up momentarily, seeing that he keeps his head down, “The pigtails are cool.”

He doesn’t say anything, and for a while you’re afraid you might have offended him, but he responds, voice low; it’s soft, gentle in a way you never expected it to be.

“Thank you.” you catch him shifting his weight from your periphery, hands digging deeper into his pockets, “The dogs think they’re chew toys when I wear it this way.”

You most certainly were not expecting that, either.

This is the most initiative he’s taken to add onto the conversation.

You grin, chuckling under your breath, “That must be fun.”

It’s faint, but you think you hear him laugh a little.

When the flowers are completely wrapped, you set them aside, making your way behind the cash register. You punch in the cost, ready to bill him before he speaks again.

“Actually, would you happen to do deliveries?” he seems shy asking it, barely looking you in the eye.

“Yes!” You nod, grabbing a pen and paper to hand over to him, “Just write down your contact details, the address you want it delivered to, and when you’d like it to be delivered.”

Another thing you’ve realized, is that despite appearances and what he seems to be, Choso handles objects gently; the pen and paper you’d just given him were taken lightly from your fingertips. Even the strokes of his penmanship are slow, the tip of the pen barely creating an indent on the small sheet.

“Will you be having both of these delivered?” you ask, holding up the bundles of daffodils.

“Just one.” he answers promptly, before adding on again, “Thank you.”

And you know you shouldn’t ask, shouldn’t be so nosy, but—

“What’s the occasion?”—

Flowers are rarely in demand during the winter season.

—“If you don’t mind me asking,” you follow-up quickly.

The immediate quiet makes you think you might have gotten too comfortable again, made him feel weird about your questions—but he answers.

“My brothers,” he finishes the final curves of his writing, “they’re coming to visit.”

The piece of paper is handed to you, and you hum, acknowledging his response. You go over his details, reciting it to him to double-check. But when you land on his address, your eyes go wide, a little ‘oh!’ slipping out.

He furrows his brows, confused.

You definitely, most certainly did not expect this.

“Sorry,” you shake your head, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment, “Just—“ you chuckle, “I think we might be neighbors.”

thank you notes: @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat for sending me lil prompts that somehow birthed into this!! + @yemmuishomeforthementallyunwell for feeding the choso brainrot 🥹 + @mysugu @soumies for being my angels, lights of my life!! listening to me ramble abt this and helping me pick music, hash out plot, pick title, everything! ily

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

#ari.🦝#shotorus.feedback #ily ari #srb

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biteyoubiteme · 2 months ago

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okay I love the atmosphere you set up for this I can feel the warm lights and casual cooking and I love the labels on the plastic tubs this is my fav detail bc why is that just so aesthetically pleasing of someone who works in a culinary field- and omg consent is so sexy and hairy yeonjun omfg- I loved this and I love your writing style it flows so well <3333

front of house/back of house- c.yj

pairing: cook!yeonjun x waitress!reader

summary: yeonjun invites you over for dinner, then invites you into his bed

warnings: implied co-workers to lovers, first date, yeonjun is a little subby, reader and yj have both drank alcohol but aren't drunk, soft sex, protected sex, yeonjun's pubes are mentioned a couple times

word count: 2,100+

author's note: sequel to this fic, but you don't need to read part one to understand this. tbh the co-workers dynamic isn't super relevant here.

You sit perched on the counter in Yeonjun’s tiny apartment. His roommates are gone for the night, leaving the place to just the two of you. He’s invited you over to cook you dinner- something different from the menu at work- wanted you to try some of his own creations.

His kitchen is filled with the same clear plastic organizers as the kitchen at work. His blocky handwriting scrawled on masking tape labels taped to the sides. He’s organized, even with the cramped space to work with.

Yeonjun is beautiful when he cooks. It’s like a dance the way he moves with precision, passion for his craft. The air is filled with enticing aromas and he hums along to the music playing quietly from the record player in his room. He stirs the contents of the pan and you take notice of the way his slender fingers hold the spoon, your gaze tracing up the veins that are visible on his lean forearms.

He poured you a drink when you arrived, a cocktail to pair with the meal. You’re already halfway through your glass and you’re sure it isn’t just the alcohol that is making you want to kiss Yeonjun more than anything right now.

It doesn’t help, the way he keeps stealing glances at you. His gaze trails up your body, lingering where your thighs spill over the edge of the counter. His rich brown eyes stay just a little too long on your lips when you speak. His mouth looks soft, its natural pout just begging to be kissed.

This is the first time you’ve seen him without his hat on, not needing it since you aren’t at work. The subtle highlights in his bangs capture your attention when they fall into his face. You want to run your fingers through his dark hair, want to know if it’s as soft as it looks.

He finishes the dish with a hurrah, putting on a show just for you, his silly side slipping out, making you crush on him even harder. He serves you a plate and you follow him to his room- the tiny apartment not having any sort of dining area, formal or otherwise.

He apologizes for the lack of a better set up, but you don’t mind. His cramped bedroom is decorated well. His clothing rack is filled with hoodies and striped sweaters, his off-duty clothes much more fashionable than the ratty t-shirts he wears in the restaurant kitchen. His record player still turns, music filling the space from the corner next to his rack of vinyls. You make a mental note to look through them later. Behind his bed he has pictures with his roommates, the boys laughing together, smiling brightly.

And when you eat, the food is delicious. Flavors explode on your tongue. You don’t know whether or not to eat as quickly as possible or as slowly as you can, wanting it all at once but also wanting to savor it forever.

Yeonjun watches you eat, seeming to enjoy your reactions more than the meal itself. A big smile fills his face as he watches you, chuckling after your third “seriously, this is so good.” His cheeks and ears are tinged with pink, though he acts like he isn’t living for your praise.

You enjoy the meal and the cocktail, which do in fact, pair perfectly. Together with the soft jazz and low lights, Yeonjun’s bedroom feels like a five-star restaurant.

After you both finish, he stacks the plates and runs them to the kitchen. When he returns, he asks if you want to watch something on the small tv that is perched on his dresser.

A movie plays, something you’ve both seen before. It’s cute if you’re paying attention to it, but instead your attention is focused on how close you sit next to Yeonjun. You can feel the warmth radiating off of him. You can’t help the way your eyes trace his profile, pretty nose and full lips illuminated in the glow of the tv. His voice is shy and quiet when he asks if you want to kiss him. His normal confidence and swagger gone for a moment of open earnestness. You nod, shy with how honest the moment feels.

Yeonjun fills your senses as he slowly leans over you to cup your cheek. His eyes flicker between meeting your gaze and staring at your lips. You reach for his arm, holding onto him as he presses your lips together softly. He tastes like lime and tequila when his tongue dances with yours. His hands are gentle as he guides you to lay against the pillows, covering your body with his. You can’t help the soft moan that escapes you when he deepens the kiss, sighing into his open mouth.

The two of you stay like that, bodies pressed to one another, kisses soft, slow and deep. You’re lost in the moment, the feeling of him, the soft sounds he makes. His hair is soft beneath your fingers, just as soft as you imagined.

“Can I touch you?” He asks, his expression tender. You whisper back a sincere “yes,” wanting to feel him everywhere.

The room is warm, filled with a warm glow and the quiet hum of the heater just under the soft chatter of the tv. Yeonjun’s hands are warm as he gently palms your chest over the thin material of your shirt. He squeezes once, drawing a breath from you. “Does this feel good?” he checks in, making sure you’re enjoying yourself. You nod again, arching into his touch to let him know it really does. After a few more minutes of kissing you, his hands feeling you over your clothes, he pulls back to ask if he can take your shirt off.

The two of you are pressed chest to chest, skin touching as lazy kisses are exchanged. Yeonjun has tugged the cup of your bra down just enough to pinch and flick at your hardened nipple. You can feel him smile at every soft gasp you let.

His hips buck slightly, involuntarily, and you can feel him hard in his pants where he rests against your thigh. You mewl, breaking the kiss to now ask if you can touch him. Your hands explored the planes of his chest and back, traced the lean muscle of his arms as he held you, but now you want to touch him there. He breathes a needy “yes” against your lips and your hand finds his bulge.

He is hot through the material, cock weighing heavy in your hand. You palm him through his pants, earning a grunt when you grip the head. The feeling of him in your hand makes you clench your thighs, growing wet. His breathing is heavy against your skin, face still held close to yours as you both watch your hand learn the shape of his length.

“So big,” you whisper, mostly to yourself. Yeonjun blushes, ears burning red as he attempts to hide a shy smile. Despite his shyness at your praise, his hips lean into your touch.

You slip your hand into his waistband, pausing at the hem, waiting for his permission before you touch him skin to skin. He nods and you reach into his boxers. Your fingers trace his hipbone before sliding through the fuzz towards the heat of his cock. He jumps when you touch him there, cock twitching just as the rest of him does. It's cute, the way he's become so shy.

There's a bead of precum wetting his tip that you find when your thumb circles his head, earning a whine. You slowly drag your hand down his length, pumping him slowly until Yeonjun is panting beside you.

“Please,” his tongue darts out to wet his lips as he tries to catch his breath, unable to say more.

You kiss him again, pretty plump lips impossible to resist, your hand doesn’t leave him, moving slowly as you lean into his taste. “Do you have a condom?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, “bedside drawer.” He moves to grab them but you kiss him again, hands pushing gently at his shoulders to convince him to stay.

“Let me.”

The pack is easy to find and when you return to Yeonjun’s bed, he’s already discarded the remainder of his clothes. You’re slow and deliberate as you unclasp your bra and slip off your damp panties, tossing them into the corner of the small room. Yeonjun’s wide eyes take in your bare form, barely blinking as he drinks you in. It makes you giggle, his attention so focused on you, that you make his cheeks and ears burn red like this, make his pretty cock blush and leak. Your laugh only makes his blush grow redder, hand coming up to cover his mouth, an attempt to hide, to diffuse your attention.

You don’t let it though, instead ripping the packet open and wrapping your fingers around his length. He breathes through his teeth at your touch as his hips buck up into your hand. His skin is warm and smooth, a perfect trail of dark hair marks a line from his navel down to the soft fuzz that surrounds his cock. It’s pretty, head flushed red, and you don’t fail to notice the curve towards his hip. Excitement bubbles in you, wanting him now.

Yeonjun sighs when you place a closed-mouth kiss to the side of his cock, your tender affection felt everywhere. You slip the condom on and settle again into the warmth of his lap.

He kisses you again, sweet and slow. Want hangs heavy over the both of you, but there’s no rush. This will happen. You deepen the kiss and his hands tangle in your hair. The smooth planes of his chest feel so good against yours; his hard, lean planes contrasting with the soft curves of you, making you arch into him.

The kiss breaks and you’re both breathless. You can’t wait a second more. Reaching your hand back, you reposition yourself above his cock, guiding it towards your entrance. His eyes are so wide, dark pools as he watches, fixated, on the place where your bodies meet. You sigh as you sink down slowly onto him, his cock filling you perfectly, curve pushing the tip almost to where you’re most sensitive.

His hands are eager, reaching out to hold your hips, pulling you closer to him, flush to his chest. He kisses you, lips trailing down from yours, down the column of your throat to nip and suck along your collarbone. It brings a contented hum from you as you slowly move your hips, little circles that bring you both pleasure. Your hand twists in his hair and he moans, mouthing at the skin of your breast.

You carry on like this, slow rolls of your hips, exploration, adoration, of one another until you feel a twinge in your thigh, muscles beginning to tire of your movements. Yeonjun notices your frown and brings his thumb to your clit, drawing soft circles that make you sigh. “Can you go just a little longer?” he asks, voice sweet. You nod, moving your hips faster, chasing your peak in earnest now. He moans at the new pace, the feeling of you around him. His touch speeds up to match, sensations pushing you towards your high.

“Mmm, close.” You teeter on the edge, unable to tip over, to feel the tension inside snap and release.

Yeonjun slides the two of you down the bed a few inches, changing position so he can take over, hips snapping up into yours. All you have to do is let your pleasure wash over you. You cry out when the new angle pushes his cock against the spot inside you, the one that makes you see stars. “Right there,” you manage, voice shaky. He nods, holding you so he hits that spot with each thrust. You cry out again and slump forward, head falling to rest on his chest.

“That’s it,” he soothes, smoothing your hair away from your face, “cum for me.”

And you do, orgasm flooding over you at his words. He holds you in place as your legs shake, guiding you through your high as he chases his own. He isn’t far behind you, you can feel his hips stutter as he cums and you wish for a moment that you could feel his hot release splatter inside you.

What feels like a perfect eternity passes before Yeonjun slips out of you, the two of you collapsing into a pile of tangled limbs and soft skin. The tv still chatters quietly in the background, the heater still hums beside you. As you both catch your breath, kisses are exchanged, pressed to foreheads, cheeks, and wrists, anywhere that feels soft and tender.

“Thank you for coming over,” Yeonjun says against your skin.

“Thank you for inviting me.”

“Mmm,” he hums, “I’ll have to do it more often.”

“As long as you make me dinner again.”

He smiles, placing a kiss in your hair, “anytime you want.”

author’s note: this is a work of fiction not meant to accurately represent the idol. please do not repost.

taglist: @lunesdesire, @dearlyjun, @moamidzyism, @miupow, @mapofthemazeinthemirror, @ohhdet

#ily ari #cams!bookshelf #also how silly im listening to my playlist that reminds me of you

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