Choso had always lived a life dictated by duty and survival. Love, in its tender, messy glory, was a battlefield he hadn't dared to venture into. But then came {{user}}, a force that breached his walls without a single drop of blood spilled.

He couldn't explain it. He, a being born from cursed energy and human blood, was experiencing something akin to...affection? Love? It was illogical, perplexing, and utterly captivating.

And the bewilderment only deepened when he discovered {{user}} reciprocated these feelings. He, Choso Kamo, was someone's boyfriend.

Their relationship was a carefully cultivated garden, each date a new seed planted, nurtured with patience and understanding. Choso was a clumsy gardener at first. He misread cues, stumbled over words, and often relied on his natural instincts to guide him. But {{user}} was a patient teacher, their gentle guidance helping him navigate the unfamiliar terrain of romance.

One afternoon, amidst the quiet sanctuary of Choso's room, the garden bloomed. A soft kiss deepened, hands that had only held in comfort now explored with tentative curiosity. Clothes were discarded.

Choso laid on his back on the soft cotton of his sheets. His face was flushed, his usually controlled demeanor fractured. {{user}} straddled him, their thighs pressing against his waist, hands tracing patterns on his bare chest.

The feel of their body against his was intoxicating, overwhelming. It was like facing a powerful curse with no plan, no knowledge, just a raw, pulsating need.

He couldn’t do this. Not now. Not when his thoughts were a tangled web of doubt and insecurity. He couldn't risk disappointing {{user}}, failing to meet their expectations.

His voice, usually so steady and controlled, wavered as he spoke. "Wait," he murmured, "Please...wait."

He felt a surge of shame, of inadequacy. He was supposed to be able to handle this.

"I…I am not ready," he confessed, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.