ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ, ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ, ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ
Tags: Choso x fem!Reader, computer genius!choso, clueless!reader, nerdcho?, stalkerish vibes on choso’s part ngl, dead dove, upsetting themes such as stalking and invasions of privacy, dark romance themes, smut, mdni
Synopsis: You actually suck with computers. Thank god that guy with the really hot voice from the it hotline is always available to talk you through it ;) I mean!!! to talk you through fixing your computer… Wait, did he hack into your webcam? Is he watching you read this?
An: I give half of the credit to @theuniversesnepobaby !! thank you for always helping me flesh out my fic ideas and always hearing me out 😩 so… any of y’all fucked a nerd before? why are they always hung 😵💫 credit to @cafekitsune for the banner tysm <3
This was the sixth time you’ve been locked out of your computer this week. Sixth.
Either your deft fingers or short attention span are to blame. Either way, the blue screen telling you to contact the IT department was staring you down.
Sighing with frustration, you finally decided you couldn’t ignore it anymore, despite your intrusive thoughts telling you to quit your job, move to a foreign country, and learn how to live off the land. You needed to just suck it up and call IT.
So what if they think you’re some helpless idiot who doesn’t know basic computer skills? It’s not like you’ll ever actually see them in person.
After a few short dials from your cell phone and some self-conscious thoughts, someone finally picks up on the other line. “IT,” the masculine voice greets, sounding rough, deep, and menacing.
The script you had recited in your head was gone in the wind. How can a one word greeting from a voice be such a turn on!?!
“Oh— hi, uh… yeah, I was calling because I’m locked out of my computer,” you fumble through your words, internally facepalming for already sounding so foolish.
“Yeah? Did it give you an error code?” he asks, seemingly daft to your growing nervousness.
Your eyes search the screen even though you already know the answer to his question. “Nope. It just tells me to contact my administrator.”
“I see,” the voice ponders. “Take a deep breath. This shouldn’t be too hard to fix.”
Okay, maybe he wasn’t so daft after all, or perhaps you are blatantly obvious. Whatever the case may be, you take a big deep breath and relax your shoulders.
“Good,” the voice praises, and your insides coil once more. “Do me a favor and read off the string of numbers and letters on the bottom of your PC please.”
You miraculously manage to read them off without stuttering, which the guy on the other line sinfully hums in acknowledgment. No, he wasn’t daft to your anxiety, but he had to be painfully unaware of effect he was having on you.
“I’m gonna take remote control of your PC now, okay?” he asks, and you snap out of your horny haze. How long has it been since you’ve gotten laid? A voice can’t be doing this much to you.
“Okay,” you swallow, and you watch as he drags the mouse around. He clicks a few things, types in some nonsensical gibberish that you don’t even try to understand.
The silence is deafening, but you assume that it’s at least only one-sided. He’s just doing his job, you remind yourself.
You sit there tapping your nails on the table because what else are you supposed to do? You feel helpless and useless all at the same time. “Cute wallpaper,” the voice comments, snapping you from your thoughts once again. You marvel at how he was so easily able to get you back in.
“Thank you. That’s my cat,” you explain awkwardly, not really knowing how to hang up. That’s not entirely true. You know how to hang up, but for the first time in your life, you don’t want to. “He’s probably part of the reason why I’m in the mess.”
An appreciative chuckle on the other end catches you by surprise. “Is that so, huh? I can tell he looks a little mischievous.”
That’s it. You’re in love with this strange man. Someone get the wedding officiant on the phone.
“I guess he takes after me in that regard.” Your clit pulses. Biting your lip, you can no longer ignore your urges. Timidly, you slip your hand down beneath your bottoms and panties, and your middle finger swirls around the button of nerves.
“Mm,” the man grunts through the phone, and you imagine it’s the sound he’d make if you were lapping up precum from his tip. “Tell me more about this… naughty streak of yours.”
Pleasure slowly simmers in your stomach, building as your touches grow more and more insistent. The voice of your conscience is gradually fading, replacing itself with the small devil on your shoulder.
It’s hard to think of literally any sort of “naughty” story to share while your fingers slide between your silky petals. “Uh, well, one time I didn’t stop at a red light because I was trying to make it to a restaurant before it closed.”
A surprised bark of laughter causes your hand to quickly flail away from your drenched pussy. Your heart is hammering in your chest, thinking you’ve been caught, but you slowly relax as you realize the IT guy was laughing at what you had said.
“That is pretty naughty,” he amends, still chuckling beneath his breath. “Surely, that’s not the worst you’ve done though.” His voice is back to being honeyed and slightly condescending.
You resume your ministrations, letting your fear of being caught fuel your lust. Your nipples tighten as you pant softly. It normally takes a while to get you this close, but his sheer presence accelerates your ecstasy.
“How do you know?” you ask, biting back anymore sounds that threaten to slip past your lips.
It takes a moment for him to answer, making your stomach feel like it’s going to fall out of your anus. “Because of what I’m looking at right now. That seems pretty naughty. Oh, what are you doing, pretty? Put your fucking hand back down there and show me how much of a mess you can make.”
You’re not sure if being able to see into your webcam was part of taking remote control of your PC, but you didn’t have the brain cells to question it right now.
You’re too good at following instructions to ignore him when he tells you to put your hair back down there, so you do. You put your phone on speaker as you get comfortable on your bed, using three fingers to frantically massage circles against your clit.
“Fuck. You’re so beautiful like this. Did I get you this turned on, or do you just have some sort of weird fetish for computers?”
You shake your head, letting out a slow drawn out whine as you bring yourself closer to the edge. Knowing that you have an audience only makes the sensations that much more intense.
You’re sure that you’ve completely soaked through your panties and bottoms by now. Pushing your hips forward, you can hear the IT guy let out a low groan from deep within his chest.
“Slow down, pretty. You started before me. You have to let me catch up.” That’s when you hear the sound of a belt clinking over the phone. “What did I say? Slow down. Slooowww~ There you go. Just like that. Oh, I know it’s frustrating, but you can’t just show me something as pretty as this and expect me to be satisfied after watching you for just a few short minutes. No, we need to drag this out a bit, don’t we?”
Not only was the IT guy extremely attractive, but he was sadistic too? Greeaatt..
You may as well have fallen head over pussy for him.
“I need a… mmnnph- name.. I need a name,” you pant breathlessly. Your pussy is weeping from being denied right when you were on the edge of your orgasm.
“What name should I call out when I cum?”
“Oh god, that’s hot. Choso. My name is Choso, pretty girl.” You can hear the sound of his hand clapping against his pelvic bone as he strokes his cock in time with your movements.
Pleasure builds in your lower stomach as your muscles slowly grow taut. “I’m really close, Choso,” you confess in a small whimper that nearly throws him off the edge.
His eyes are glued to his screen where he’s watching you get yourself off. Your body and facial expressions are the definition of perfection. He tries to burn the picture of you into his brain so he’ll never forget.
“Aw, you wanna cum?” His muscles strain with every torturous stroke of his cock. He’s been pitifully holding back his orgasm since he’s started. “What’s the magic word?”
“Please, let me cum.” Your eyebrows furrow and your lips purse in frustration, which only makes Choso chuckle.
“Who are you talking to, pretty girl? Address me when you speak to me.”
“Please let me cum, Choso!”
He hums, pretending to think it over as he watches the wet spot in between your thighs grow bigger and darker. Jesus, you’re soaked for him. Then again, he’s been dribbling precum like a faucet this entire time. “Alright, I’ll let you cum… when I tell you to. On one, you’re going to cum, understand?”
On one? Your brain is practically mashed potatoes right now. How can he expect for you to understand some cryptic ass instructions? “Not really.”
“You will.” He slows his hand gliding up and down his glistening cock in order to not blow immediately. “5… 4… 3…”
“Choso,” you cry out in frustration, needing to feel relief now. It feels like your clit is drumming right now.
“Huh…? You made me lose count. I’ll have to start again.” You can practically hear the condescending smile in his voice. “5… 4… 3… 2….”
You hold your breath. Your body trembles in trepidation and excitement as you’re being teetered over the edge by some guy on the phone who definitely hacked into your webcam somehow.
He definitely waits a few seconds before he finally finishes his countdown. “1.”
You both explode simultaneously. You’re pretty sure you black out momentarily from the force of your orgasm. You’ve never ever came that hard in your life.
Sweatpants, basic long-sleeve shirt, old raggedy sneakers, your favorite Mexican restaurant has seen you look absolutely homeless, like right now. They never judge.
You stand near the hostess stand, car keys in hand as you hum along to the melody in your head. It’s times like these when you feel the urge to call I.T. again, just hoping to get put through to Choso.
He hasn’t called you. He has your personal number, and he hasn’t called you. That’s a sign. He had his fun, and now, he’s clearly keen on going on with his life. You know you should do the same.
But it’s hard. When you close your eyes at night, it’s like you can hear his raspy voice, guiding you to touch yourself for him again. When you’re working, you stare at the webcam, just wondering if he’s watching you. When you’re out in public like right now, you wonder if you’ll bump into him randomly.
It’s been three weeks. You need to get over it and move on. It was fun. You came harder than you ever have in your life, but it’s over.
“Miss?” a voice breaks your intensive thought of Choso, and you grin as you see the hostess holding up your to-go order of savory goodness. This is the perfect treat to make you feel better.
You walk towards the stand, ready to retrieve your gluttonous heaven, but your body jolts back as someone much taller than you shoulder checks you.
Time slows down, and you blink a couple of times. You didn’t even see this guy coming. He was like a suddenly appearing brick wall.
His hands easily wrapped around your arms, stabilizing you, and you take the chance to look up into his eyes: big and brown. He has eye-bags like he’s chosen Xbox over sleep for the last decade, and a tattoo running horizontally across his nose.
“Excuse me,” you finally broke the prolonged silence. If this kept up, the hostess’s arm was going to get tired from holding up your food.
The guy’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, and he continues to look over your face before chancing a glance over of your body.
Your skin ripples is goosebumps from his gaze. What is he doing? This meet cute was starting to become more of an opening to a thriller movie, where the girl falls in love with a serial killer unknowingly.
Finally, he drops his hands back down to his sides. “Sorry,” he mutters lowly. His voice is soft and raspy like he’s trying to disguise it the best he can.
But you know. Or your pussy definitely knows that voice. Your eyes widen as you try not to practically wet yourself. It was him. The I.T. guy. Choso.
You’re shell-shocked for a moment, unable to think much less move as he gives you a small pat on the head before side stepping you. The hostess is staring at you with furrowed brows, and for the first time ever, she’s definitely judging you.
The funny thing about hacking is once you’ve forced entry once, it becomes entirely too easy to do it again and again.
Your face is twisted in the cutest of focused expressions, and you keep jotting things down on your silly little notebook. You’re trying your best to figure out who he is. He’s watched you switch from Instagram to Facebook to Google, and now you’re on LinkedIn.
This is definitely going to get him fired one day. It’s honestly a wonder how his company hasn’t reprimanded him for taking a work call on his personal cell phone, but when he saw your number come across, he couldn’t resist forwarding the call.
He hasn’t been able to get his fix of you in person for two weeks. Two weeks since he saw where you put in an order at your favorite Mexican restaurant, and he so happened to go there himself. He actually never meant to show himself to you. He was content staying behind the scenes, taking bits and pieces of you when he could get them.
But after he saw your reaction to his voice? The way your breath stuttered and your pupils dilated? He knew from that second he was irrevocably fucked. You were now his favorite substance, even above caffeine.
A cold emptiness sweeps across his chest while he watches you laser focus in on your laptop. He needs more of the cute reactions you give.
Clicking a few buttons on his very own laptop, he smirks and leans back as he can still hear you through your laptop’s microphone. “What the hell?”
He only ran a simple command on your laptop to give you a blue screen of error text.
“No, don’t do this to me right now,” you whine, trying everything you know to fix it (which basically consists of turning the computer off and on again).
Choso stares at his phone, waiting for the call the come through. He’s the only one on shift, so he knows for a fact you’ll get put through to him by the operator.
A few moments later, he hears a small, “Shit” before his phone begins to ring. Quickly, he mutes the sounds coming from your microphone so you wouldn’t be able to hear yourself speaking.
“IT,” he greets per usual, trying to steady his voice despite his heart thumping wildly against his ribcage. His long veiny fingers grip at the arm of his chair, eagerly awaiting the sound of your sweet voice.
“Oh, hey. Is this Choso again? My computer’s acting up.”
“Is there any other reason why you’d call IT?” Choso smirks as his muscles begin to relax.
“Apparently if I ever need to rub one out.”
If he had any drink in his mouth, he would’ve spit it out. “You can… ahem… always call my personal number for that.”
You roll your eyes, leaning back against your headboard. “You’re the only one here who has access to my personal number.”
Pulling the phone away from his face, his fingers flew across his touchscreen as he quickly sent you a text with his number attached.
Choso: Call me anytime with all of your personal needs.
Your eyes bulge as your phone lights up. After weeks of radio silence, he’s suddenly being so forward. It’s making your head spin. “Yeah… Right— Well,” you stammer, feeling your face smoldering from embarrassment and shyness.
“Your computer,” Choso says, thankfully guiding the conversation. “What do you keep doing to this thing, hm?”
“Nothing! I swear! I’m pretty sure this thing is plotting against me.”
He hums a small chuckle that makes your chest constrict. “Yeah? What were you doing on it then? That might give us some clues.”
The look on your face through your hacked webcam makes him almost snort. He bites the inside of his cheek with a grin while watching your scramble for a halfway believable lie.
“Researching,” your voice is small now, causing him only to grin harder. He likes you like this — on edge and squirming.
“Researching,” he echoes back incredulously, “Researching what exactly, hm? Maybe you were too close to the truth.”
Choso’s not even attempting to fix your computer anymore. This conversation has transcended beyond his job title. You two easily banter like old flames, kindling each other.
You lean back against your bed, holding your phone up to your ear as you ponder how to respond. “Maybe I was too close to the truth. Off topic, is your last name Hancock by chance?”
“Hancock,” he deadpans, mirroring your posture by leaning back in his computer chair. Thank god he invested in one with pristine lumbar support. He spends way too much fucking time on his computer. “You think my name is Choso Hancock?”
You snicker before rolling onto your stomach, unknowingly giving him the most perfect look at your round ass. He has to shove the heel of his palm against his cock to prevent himself from making a mess right then and there.
“I mean, anything’s a possibility?”
“No. My name isn’t Choso Hancock.” His hand is certainly on his cock though. “Were you looking for me, pretty? Maybe hoping you could find a picture of the guy who makes you wet by the sound of his voice?”
Your responding whine is telltale. Choso doesn’t even need to hack your webcam to know that you’re fighting back the urge to touch yourself. “Go on. Arch that pretty back for and show me how much you need me. You already know I’m watching,” he taunts.
Against your better judgment on internet safety, you slowly arch your back up, giving him a direct line of sight to your damp shorts and panties. Pure need washes over you as you hear him groan into the phone. “So fucking… perfect.”
“I want to see you too,” you demand in a tone that borders brattiness. “It’s only fair.”
“What do you wanna see, baby? All you have to do is ask politely.”
You bite back a snarky response mocking his tone before you really think through with your choice. “Show me what you look like.”
“Oh? Pretending like you didn’t get a good look at me at the restaurant, huh?” he teases while his fingers fumble with the drawstrings of his hoodie.
Your stomach flips as you muffle a whine. So, he did know it was you at the restaurant. “Why did you say anything if you knew it was me?”
“Aw, baby, did I hurt your feelings?” he asks, but he doesn’t give you time to respond, “Maybe I didn’t know if you’d recognize me or not. Plus, I want to respect client privacy and all.”
“Bullshit. You’ve hacked into my webcam twice now. You don’t give a damn about privacy.”
“Such a foul mouth, pretty. What did I say about being polite? Swat yourself on your pussy for me.” His voice dips down from condescension to monotonous authority.
You look over your shoulder towards your computer which is still glaring at you with error code. It boggles your brain how he can still see you while your laptop is on the fritz. “Why should I? What are you gonna do about it?”
Silence answers you before you hear a small grunt and some movement on the other end. “Mmph, guess you’re right.” His breath is sharp and shallow, making your pussy clench in response. “I’m just pervert watching you through your webcam. I can’t really do anything to you — yet. But you fucking love that, don’t you? You like getting off to a guy you barely know. Say it.”
Your stomach coils in desire, and you can feel your panties answering your question for you. “I like getting off to a guy I barely know.”
“I know you do. My pretty girl is such a slut, isn’t she? Now, take off your shorts and do what I told you to because you love it.”
Your hands work to pull your shorts down to your ankles awkwardly since you’re still arched on your bed, almost in doggy position with your computer placed behind you like it’s going to fuck you.
“Goood~ Look at you. I’ll reward you after you spank your pussy for being such a brat,” he rasps as his hand grips his cock tightly, gliding up and down just enough to give him pleasure but not enough to send him over the edge.
Your body jolts forward as your palm connects to your pussy with a quick slap. A moan spills from your lips as it feels like static electricity between your legs.
“How did that feel, baby? Have you ever abused your pussy like this before?” Choso asks, hips thrusting into his hand uncontrollably.
“No, I’ve never— It feels good,” you whimper in response, wishing you could just touch yourself too, but you know he’d punish you for it.
Your phone buzzes in your hand, and you haphazardly check it with shaky fingers. Choso had made good on his word and texted you a video.
First, it was a frontal shot of his big veiny hand jerking his cock. His black locks were pulled into a bun, and he was holding his shirt up by biting the bottom hem with his teeth, exposing his chiseled abs. You gasped out a moan from the sight. He was practically spilling precum as his hand quickly jerked his massive cock.
Then, he went to pick up his phone, and the camera flipped for a brief second, exposing his setup. He had three different monitors— wait no, four! He had three side by side and a fourth mounted on top. All of his monitors were showing him one thing: you from all different angles.
You went eerily still, as you looked around your room, briefly remembering the security system you had installed last month after your cat kept managing to escape from your window.
Your head tilted up to a camera pointing directly towards your bed, and his voice infiltrated through the camera’s microphone instead of through your phone. “You really gotta start being more diligent when it comes to technology, pretty.”
PART TWO COMING… when I can manage to write it.
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