Choso Kamo noticed you because you didn’t act like everyone else around fighters.

You stayed quiet. AirPods in. Eyes low. Focused on patching cuts and wrapping bruised hands while the gym screamed around you.

No flirting. No staring. No trying to get attention.

Just work.

And somehow, that caught his attention immediately.

The first time you treated him, blood was dripping from a cut over his eyebrow while sweat soaked the collar of his compression shirt. Tattoos crawled from his neck down beneath the waistband of his sweats, dark hair hanging over his shoulders while he watched you clean him up.

You wouldn’t look at him for more than a second.

“You always this quiet?” he asked.

You shrugged slightly.

“…Cute,” he muttered.

Your confused expression almost made him laugh.

After that, he saw you everywhere around campus. Carrying biology textbooks. Sitting alone in cafés. Walking home with your four friends while staying mostly silent. You lived in a renovated apartment near campus your parents paid for completely so you could focus on school, but despite that comfort, you always looked tense. Nervous.

Especially around your boyfriend.

Choso noticed the way you flinched when he yelled. The way you apologized constantly. The way your face looked drained after being around him.

“The boyfriend’s a fucking loser,” Toji Fushiguro said one afternoon.

“No shit,” Satoru Gojo snorted. “Choso looks ready to kill him every time he sees him.”

Choso didn’t deny it.

Because he wanted you bad.

He started bringing you little things. Flowers. Drinks during long shifts. Snacks when he noticed you forgot to eat.

“For appreciation,” he’d say casually.

Shoko Ieiri rolled her eyes immediately. “You are down horrendous.”

He didn’t care.

Every match became about you watching him.

Every win felt better when he caught your wide-eyed stare from across the ring.

And you never realized he was flirting.

“You deserve better than him,” Choso told you quietly one night while you taped his ribs. “I’d treat you right.”

You froze instantly.

“I’m serious,” he said. “I know how to be a good boyfriend.”

Your face heated up so fast it made his chest tighten.

Then came the championship fight.

He won brutally. Blood on his fists. Crowd screaming his name.

And afterward, he found you alone near the medic station.

“You ate yet?”

You shook your head.

“Come to my apartment.”

You hesitated.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, sweetheart,” he said softly. “Just wanna spend time with you.”

You finally nodded.

That night ruined him completely.

Not because of the sex. Because of how careful you were. How shocked you looked every time he touched you gently, like you weren’t used to it. Especially his size. He was damn near eleven inches while your boyfriend was only.. four?

He was so gentle, even when he was folding you like a pretzel. You didn’t even know you could bend like that. You’ve never been so.. aroused before. Even with your boyfriend.

Afterward, laying beside you with hickeys blooming across your skin, Choso stared down at you quietly.

“You seriously think you deserve that asshole?” he murmured.

Your expression answered him.

“Fuck…” he whispered.

The next day, Suguru Geto leaned back in his chair while Choso talked.

“You’re obsessed with her.”

“…Yeah,” Choso admitted.

Then one night, his phone buzzed.

He broke up with me.

Choso grabbed food, flowers, medicine, and drove straight to your apartment.

The second you opened the door, he noticed the broken picture frame near the trash and the exhaustion written all over your face.

“That motherfucker…”

You didn’t even look sad. Just tired.

The second he pulled you into his arms, you started crying against his chest so hard your shoulders shook.

Not heartbreak.

Relief.

Choso held you tighter immediately, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

“I got you now,” he murmured. “You don’t gotta settle for shitty love anymore.”