pairing ⸺ ghostface!sukuna & ghostface!gojo x fem! reader
warnings ⚠️: horror themes, serial killer mentions, suspense, paranoia, strong language, psychological tension, smut, inspired by the movie scream, cussing, slasher themes, Part 1.
summary- Y/N is a college student best friends with popular campus figures Satoru Gojo and Ryomen Sukuna. When a pair of serial killers begin targeting students, Y/N starts receiving disturbing phone calls that feel personal and increasingly real. As the attacks escalate, she becomes paranoid that she’s being watched, but she doesn't know the enemy is closer than she thinks.
The first thing everyone at campus knew about Ryomen Sukuna and Satoru Gojo was that they were a problem in two completely different ways.
Satoru Gojo was loud about it—he didn’t care who saw him coming. White hair a mess, sunglasses always on even indoors half the time, laughing like the world was one big joke he already understood better than everyone else.
He was popular in the kind of way that didn’t make sense if you actually paid attention to him: skipped lectures, flirted with everyone just to get reactions, showed up late to everything, yet somehow still walked around like he owned the entire campus.
And then there was Ryomen Sukuna.
Sukuna didn’t need attention. He didn’t chase it, didn’t joke for it, didn’t soften himself to get it. He just existed like something heavier than everyone else in the room.
The type of guy people noticed without meaning to—tall, sharp-eyed, always looking mildly annoyed like the world itself was wasting his time.
He didn’t talk much, but when he did, people shut up fast. Rumors followed him everywhere anyway: fights, expulsions he somehow avoided, nights where people swore they saw him leaving places covered in bruises that weren’t his.
No one could ever prove anything.
That somehow made it worse.
And then there was you.
The one who didn’t belong in either of their worlds.
The “normal” one, people liked to say.
Good grades. Good attendance. Good reputation. The kind of student professors remembered in a positive way. The kind parents pointed at when they talked about “making good choices.”
You were the opposite of everything Sukuna and Gojo represented—and somehow, that was exactly why nobody could understand how the three of you ended up inseparable.
It started as an accident, or at least that’s what you told yourself.
A shared class. A group project nobody else wanted to do properly. Gojo talking too much, Sukuna barely talking at all, and you stuck in the middle trying not to lose your sanity.
“You’re weirdly bossy for someone who looks like that,” Gojo had said the first day you met him.
“Shut up,” you replied immediately.
Sukuna, from the corner of the room, had looked up once and muttered, “She’s annoying.”
“Wow,” you shot back. “Nice to meet you too, asshole.”
That should’ve been the end of it.
It wasn’t.
Somehow, it turned into late-night study sessions, then food runs, then hanging out because “everyone else is boring as fuck anyway,” according to Gojo.
Sukuna never said much about it, but he never left either. And slowly, without anyone acknowledging it out loud, the three of you became a strange kind of unit.
Campus didn’t know what to do with that.
People stared when you walked with them.
They whispered when they saw you laughing with Gojo in the hallway.
They went silent when Sukuna stood next to you like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“You know they’re talking about us again,” you said one afternoon, walking between them across campus.
Gojo leaned down slightly. “Let them talk. It’s fun.”
“It’s annoying.” you muttered, dragging a hand over your face like you were already tired of the conversation.
Sukuna glanced at you briefly. “Ignore it.”
“Easy for you to say,” you muttered. “You look like you enjoy being feared.”
“I don’t care enough to correct them,” he said flatly.
Gojo grinned. “See? He’s romantic like that.”
Sukuna didn’t even look at him. “Say something stupid again and I’m punching you in the face.”
Gojo grinned wider, like that was encouragement. “That’s the spirit.”
It should’ve felt normal.
It didn’t.
Not really.
Because there was always something slightly off about the two of them—like they were constantly in on something you weren’t. It wasn’t obvious at first. Just little things. The way Gojo sometimes watched your reactions instead of the movie. The way Sukuna’s attention always seemed sharper when something violent came on screen.
Especially horror movies.
That was their thing.
Every night they dragged into it
“C’mon,” Gojo would say, already pulling up another film on your TV. “You can’t seriously tell me you’re not scared of this one.”
“I’m not,” you answer immediately, not even looking away from the screen, arms crossed like you were already bored of the argument.
“You say that every time,” he laughed, leaning back into the couch like he already knew he'd win the argument.
Sukuna was usually sitting somewhere slightly behind you, would add without looking away from the screen, “She’s just pretending.”
“I’m not pretending,” you snapped immediately, turning your head slightly like that was the dumbest thing, you've heard all night, arms crossing tighter over your chest.
Gojo gasped dramatically. “She’s immune to fear. We’re doomed.”
You rolled your eyes. “This is predictable. The killer always shows up in the last ten minutes and half the cast is stupid.”
“Obviously.” you added under your breath, like it wasn't even a debate.
That was usually when Gojo leaned in closer, grinning. “I still say you’d scream first.”
“I would not.” You shot back immediately, not even looking at him.
“You would.” Gojo said, leaning back like it was a fact didn't need to prove.
Sukuna finally glanced at you then, just for a second. “She wouldn’t last five minutes.”
“Excuse me?” you cut in immediately, turning your head toward him like you couldn’t believe what you just heard.
That was how it always went.
Jokes, Teasing, Arguments that never meant anything serious, —just noise filling the space between movies, popcorn, and whoever was talking the loudest.
Until the news interrupted, the TV flickered mid-movie.
The screen stuttered once… twice… then cut sharply to black before a breaking report forced its way through, swallowing the sound of whatever scene you’d been watching.
“Another body has been found near the eastern campus district—”
The room went quieter without anyone telling it to, like the air itself had noticed something and decided to stop moving for a second. Even the background noise from the TV felt distant now, like it didn’t belong in the same space anymore.
You frowned. “What the hell?”
You sit up a little straighter on the couch, eyes flicking toward the TV like it personally offended you, then back at them like they were supposed to explain it. “Why did it just do that?” you add, voice lower now, more confused than joking.
Gojo tilted his head slightly. “That’s new.”
The reporter continued talking, voice steady in that unsettling way news anchors always had when something terrible was being explained like it wasn’t real life.
Serial killings, students targeted, two suspects, still unidentified, a warning to remain indoors at night. The words kept coming anyway, too calm for what they actually meant, like the screen wasn’t talking about people at all—just statistics, just another update someone had to report before moving on.
For a moment, the humor drained out of Gojo’s face.
Sukuna didn’t move at all.
“…That’s fucked up,” you muttered quietly.
Gojo leaned back on your couch, whistling low. “Campus is gonna lose its mind over this.”
You didn’t laugh. Your eyes stayed on the screen for a second longer than necessary before you slowly looked away, turning toward Sukuna instead.
You looked at Sukuna. “You’ve got that face again.”
Sukuna barely shifted, but his eyes flicked toward you for a second. “What face?”
You tilt your head slightly, studying him like you’re trying to confirm it. “The ‘I’m thinking too much’ face.”
Sukuna clicks his tongue softly, almost like he’s annoyed you noticed. He leans back slightly, eyes half-lidded again like he’s trying to reset his expression
He clicked his tongue slightly. “It’s nothing.”
But he kept watching the screen longer than necessary.
Gojo, for once, didn’t joke immediately. “You think it’s real?”
Sukuna finally looked away. “It’s real enough for people to panic.”
You shifted slightly a small chill runs through you anyway, subtle but noticeable, and you hug your arms a little tighter as you lean back. “Well, I’m not staying locked inside like some horror movie idiot.”
Gojo laughed again, but it didn’t sound as loud this time. “That’s what the first victim says.”
“Shut up,” you said automatically as you glance at him immediately.
But Sukuna’s eyes lingered on you a second too long, like he was checking if you actually heard him or if you were just brushing it off like everything else tonight.
“Lock your doors,” he said casually, but there was nothing casual about the way he said it.
You frowned at him . “I always do.”
There’s a short pause, like that answer wasn’t quite enough for him.
“Do it anyway.” he adds after a second, quieter this time, already looking away like he didn’t want to make it sound like a big deal.
You huff softly through your nose. “I do it anyway,” you repeat, leaning back into the couch, trying to shake off how serious he sounded for no reason.
Gojo smirked faintly, watching the exchange like it was more interesting than the movie now. “Yeah, listen to Sukuna. He’s paranoid for a reason.”
“I’m not paranoid,” Sukuna said as he clicks his tongue immediately, sharper this time.
“Sure,” Gojo shrugs lazily, leaning back like he's completely unbothered again.
The night moved on after that, like the conversation didn’t matter. Movie resumed, jokes returned, normal came back the way it always did—easy, familiar, like the news report had already been mentally pushed to the side and replaced with something lighter.
Eventually, Gojo stretched dramatically arms going up like he was performing for an audience that didn’t exist. “Alright, I’m out.”
Sukuna stood a minute later.
You looked between them. “You guys leaving already?” you ask, still half-leaning into the couch, like the idea doesn’t fully register yet.
“Got things to do,” Gojo said, grinning, already reaching for his jacket like he was in no rush but still somehow leaving immediately anyway.
Sukuna didn’t explain anything, He never really did, but he stood up anyway.
As they reached the door, Gojo turned back one more time, leaning slightly on the frame like he had to make it dramatic. “Try not to get murdered while we’re gone.”
“I hate you,” you said instantly, no real heat behind it, more automatic than anything.
He laughed like that was the exact reaction he wanted. “Love you too.”
Sukuna lingered a second longer than Gojo. Just enough to feel noticeable.
His eyes met yours briefly, steady and unreadable in a way that made the silence feel heavier than it should’ve.
“Don’t answer unknown calls,” he said. It was very simple, direct even, no tone to joke it away.
You rolled your eyes immediately trying to shake it off. “What, you think the killer’s gonna prank call me?”
“Just don’t,” he repeats, quieter this time, like it isn’t worth arguing about.
Then he left.
And the house got quiet.
Too quiet.
The kind of quiet that feels like it’s waiting for something to happen. Like sound had been turned down on purpose, like something was still there but choosing not to move yet.
You stood there for a moment after the door closed, staring at the empty hallway, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling that settled in your chest.
“It’s nothing,” you muttered to yourself.
But somehow, it didn’t feel like nothing.
Not anymore.
── დ ──
The house always felt different after Gojo and Sukuna left.
Not empty exactly.
Just... quieter.
Too quiet.
The kind of quiet you only noticed after spending hours listening to Gojo run his mouth about horror movies and Sukuna complaining about literally everything.
The front door had barely shut behind them before the silence started settling into the walls.
"Don't answer unknown calls."
You rolled your eyes as you locked the door.
Sukuna always had to get the last word in.
Every single time.
"Like I'm in some stupid horror movie," you muttered.
The deadbolt clicked into place.
You checked the windows too, mostly because Sukuna's annoying warning had gotten stuck in your head.
Locked.
Locked.
Locked.
Satisfied, you headed back toward the living room.
The TV was still playing.
The horror movie Gojo had forced everyone to watch continued in the background, though now that you were alone it wasn't nearly as entertaining. Half the fun came from making fun of the movie with them.
Without Gojo's commentary and Sukuna's insults, it was just another predictable slasher film.
You grabbed your blanket from the couch and wrapped it around yourself.
"Wow," you said to the television. "You're really gonna run upstairs instead of leaving the house."
The actress screamed.
You groaned.
"Deserved."
A few minutes later you wandered into the kitchen.
The popcorn bowl from earlier sat nearly empty on the counter.
You debated going to bed.
Then decided against it.
It wasn't even that late.
Besides, after everything on the news tonight, sleep sounded exhausting.
Another movie sounded better.
The microwave beeped softly as fresh popcorn finished popping.
Butter melted.
The familiar smell filled the kitchen.
Normal.
Comforting.
Nothing scary about any of it.
You carried the bowl back into the living room and flopped onto the couch.
Outside, the neighborhood was dark.
Most of the houses across the street had their lights off already.
A few porch lights glowed faintly in the distance.
Everything looked peaceful.
Safe.
The phone rang.
You nearly dropped the popcorn.
"Jesus Christ."
Your heart jumped before you could stop it.
The ringtone echoed through the quiet house.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
You stared at your phone on the coffee table.
Unknown Number.
You frowned.
At midnight?
Who the hell—
The phone continued ringing.
"Probably Gojo."
You reached over and answered.
"You're paying for my therapy if this is another one of your dumb pranks."
Silence.
You immediately sighed.
"Gojo."
Nothing.
Not even breathing.
Just silence.
You sat up slightly.
"...Hello?"
A few seconds passed.
Then a voice spoke.
"Was the movie any good?"
Your smile disappeared.
The voice was male.
Deep.
Calm.
Too calm.
Not Gojo.
Not Sukuna.
Someone else.
You frowned.
"Who is this?"
A brief pause.
Then:
"You sound disappointed."
"Who the fuck is this?"
The man laughed quietly.
Not loud.
Not crazy.
Just amused.
The sound made your stomach twist for reasons you couldn't explain.
"Language."
You sat up straighter.
"Okay, seriously. Wrong number."
"No."
The voice remained pleasant.
Almost friendly.
"I don't think it is."
Something about the conversation felt strange.
Not immediately threatening.
Just...
Off.
Like speaking to someone who knew something you didn't.
You glanced toward the front window unconsciously.
Darkness stared back.
The man spoke again.
"What are you watching?"
You frowned.
"A movie."
"What kind?"
"Horror."
Another laugh.
"I figured."
Your fingers tightened around the phone.
The conversation should've ended already.
Yet you hadn't hung up.
Partly because you were curious.
Partly because you were trying to figure out why the voice felt so unsettling.
"You call random people often?" you asked.
"Only interesting ones."
"Oh my God."
You rolled your eyes.
"You're one of those."
"One of what?"
"The creepy mysterious caller."
"I prefer charming."
"You're failing."
The man chuckled again.
For a moment the tension eased.
Barely.
Then he asked:
"Are you home alone?"
Silence.
Your expression changed immediately.
"What?"
"Simple question."
The voice remained casual.
Too casual.
You sat up completely now.
"Why would you ask me that?"
Another pause.
Then:
"Because if I was alone in a house after hearing about two serial killers on the news..."
The smile vanished from your face.
"...I'd be nervous."
The room suddenly felt colder.
Not because of what he said.
Because of how he said it.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Like he was enjoying your reaction.
You stood from the couch.
"Okay."
Your voice hardened.
"Conversation's over."
"Wait."
The voice stopped you.
"Don't hang up yet."
You started walking toward the kitchen.
"I don't know you."
"But I know you."
That made you stop.
Only for a second.
The man continued.
"You don't like horror movies."
You frowned.
"What?"
"You think they're predictable."
A knot formed in your stomach.
"You make fun of the characters."
Your heartbeat slowed.
Then sped up again.
"You always think you'd survive."
The popcorn bowl suddenly felt heavier in your hands.
How the hell—
You looked toward the window again.
Nothing.
No one.
Just darkness.
"Who are you?" you asked quietly.
The voice ignored the question.
Instead, he asked one of his own.
"What's your favorite scary movie?"
You stared into the dark living room.
The question hung in the air.
Simple.
Yet somehow it felt wrong.
Very wrong.
You laughed once.
Nervously.
Without meaning to.
And for the first time all night—
You weren't making fun of the horror movie anymore.
Because suddenly it felt like you were standing inside one.
The silence stretched.
Not the comfortable kind.
The kind that made your skin crawl.
You stood in the middle of your living room with the phone pressed against your ear, staring toward the dark window above the couch. Your reflection stared back at you from the glass, distorted by the darkness outside.
Nothing was there.
At least that's what you told yourself.
The caller chuckled softly.
"You got quiet."
You swallowed.
"No shit."
The man laughed again.
That same calm laugh.
Like this was all some kind of game.
Like he was enjoying himself.
"You sound nervous."
"I'm not nervous."
"Liar."
You rolled your eyes immediately.
"Okay, first of all, fuck you."
The caller laughed harder.
For some reason that irritated you more than it scared you.
"Second of all," you continued, "if you're trying to be scary, you're doing a terrible job."
"Oh?"
"Yeah."
You grabbed the popcorn bowl from the coffee table and sat back down, trying to convince yourself that this was just some loser with too much free time.
"You're basically reading lines from every horror movie ever made."
The caller hummed thoughtfully.
"Maybe that's because horror movies know people better than people know themselves."
"Wow."
You grabbed a handful of popcorn.
"That was deep."
"It was."
"No. It wasn't."
A brief silence.
Then:
"You really aren't scared of anything, are you?"
You smirked slightly.
"Nope."
"Bullshit."
You laughed.
"You're literally proving my point right now."
"How?"
"Because every scary movie starts the same way."
The caller seemed interested now.
"Oh?"
"Yeah."
You settled further into the couch.
"The killer thinks they're smarter than everybody else."
The line remained silent.
You continued.
"Then they spend twenty minutes talking instead of doing whatever they're supposedly planning."
Another pause.
"And then?"
You smiled.
"And then they lose."
The caller laughed.
Low.
Amused.
Dangerous.
The sound lingered through the phone.
"I like you."
You frowned.
"That's unfortunate."
"I mean it."
Something about the way he said it made your stomach twist.
Not because it sounded romantic.
Because it sounded genuine.
Like he'd been studying you.
Watching you.
Learning things about you.
The thought immediately made you uncomfortable.
You stood back up.
"Okay, now you're officially weird."
The caller ignored that.
"You always do that."
You stopped.
"...Do what?"
"Pace when you're irritated."
A beat.
"You chew on the inside of your cheek when you're thinking."
Silence.
"You tap your fingers when you're impatient."
Your stomach dropped.
Slowly.
"What?"
The caller chuckled.
"You do it all the time."
The room suddenly felt colder.
Your eyes drifted toward the dark windows.
Then the hallway.
Then back again.
"Who are you?"
No answer.
"You know that's not creepy at all."
Another laugh.
"You leave lights on when you're alone."
Your pulse quickened.
"You sleep with your TV running sometimes."
You didn't respond.
Because now you weren't sure if he was guessing.
Or if he actually knew.
The caller sighed.
"You really should close your curtains."
Your heart stopped.
For half a second.
Then immediately started racing.
You turned sharply toward the living room window.
The curtains were open.
Had been open all night.
All he could see was darkness from outside.
Right?
Right?
The caller laughed quietly.
And for the first time all night, your confidence cracked just a little.
"Now," he said softly.
"Are you scared yet?"
The silence after his last comment lingered just a little too long.
You let out a slow breath, shifting the phone against your ear like you was already tired of the entire conversation.
“Okay,” Y/n said flatly. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you’ve got way too much free time on your hands.”
A pause.
Then You added, more sharply, “Like seriously. Go outside. Touch grass. Get a job. Something.”
The caller let out a quiet laugh.
Not offended.
Amused.
That somehow made it worse.
“You talk a lot for someone alone in a house,” he said.
Y/N rolled her eyes. “Yeah, because I’m unfortunately stuck talking to you.”
“Still not scared?”
You scoffed.
“Should I be? Because right now you’re just giving unemployed serial-killer cosplay vibes.”
A beat of silence.
Then the energy shifted.
Instantly.
The voice on the other end dropped lower.
“You think this is funny?”
You paused slightly.
“…I think you’re bored.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
The tone changed again.
Not louder.
Not angry.
Just colder.
“Your friends won’t always be around to answer for you.”
Her expression tightened.
“…What?”
“You keep laughing,” he continued calmly, “like nothing can touch you.”
A small knot formed in her stomach.
The kitchen suddenly felt quieter.
“Let me make something clear,” the voice said softly. “If you hang up on me again…”
A pause.
"I'll gut you like a pig and spread you're insides all over campus, you wouldn't want that happen would you?" The mysterious caller on the phone says with a mocking teasing tone, but it seems like his words were true.
Y/N’s grip tightened on the phone.
“…You’re not serious.”
“I am.”
Another pause.
Then, even quieter:
“And I don’t think you want to find out how serious.”
Your mouth went dry for half a second.
The confidence from earlier started to slip, just slightly.
“…Okay,” You said slowly. “You’re doing too much now.”
A faint exhale came through the phone.
Almost like a sigh.
“I could make it worse.”
Something about the way he said it made you step back from the counter instinctively.
“Worse how?” You snapped, trying to sound steady.
The voice didn’t answer directly.
Instead
“You’re not alone as often as you think you are."
The room felt colder again.
“Okay, no,” You said immediately, voice sharper now. “We’re done. I’m done. Whatever this is, I’m done.”
A quiet laugh.
“You always think you can end things first.”
Click.
Y/N froze.
The call didn’t fully disconnect at first.
Just static.
Breathing again.
Then—
Gone.
Dead line.
You stood there for a moment, staring at the phone like it had personally offended your existence.
“…What the fuck,” you muttered under your breath.
For a second, you didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe properly.
Didn’t even blink much.
Then you forced herself to shake it off.
“Nope. Not doing this tonight.”
You walked back into the living room, the popcorn bowl still sitting where she left it.
The horror movie was still playing on the TV.
A character was running through a dark hallway screaming.
Predictable.
Annoying.
You grabbed the remote.
“Yeah, no thanks asshole ” You muttered, switching it immediately to something lighthearted—some random comedy rerun she didn’t even care about.
The sudden shift in tone made the room feel less heavy.
Less wrong.
You sank back onto the couch, pulling the blanket over yourself again, forcing you're breathing to slow down.
“It’s just a prank,”you told yourself quietly. “It’s literally just some freak with a phone.”
You reached for the popcorn again.
A few minutes passed.
The comedy show played in the background.
You even let out a small laugh once or twice.
Normal again.
Almost.
But every now and then—
Your eyes drifted toward the dark hallway.
Just for a second.
Then she looked away.
“…I’m going to bed,” You muttered finally, louder than necessary, like you needed the house to hear you.
You turned off the TV.
The sudden silence hit harder than before.
You hesitated at the bottom of the stairs.
Then climbed anyway.
Locking your bedroom door behind you.
Three times.
Just in case.
And for the first time that night—
You didn’t pick up when her phone buzzed again.
Just stared at it.
Let it ring.
And pretended you didn’t hear anything at all.
── დ ──
The next morning doesn’t feel like a reset.
It feels like you never really escaped the night before.
barely sleeps.
Every time you close your eyes, that voice comes back—calm, steady, too controlled, like it belongs to someone who already knows how everything ends. By sunrise, you stop pretending sleep is going to fix anything.
Your room feels too quiet when you finally get dressed.
Too normal.
That’s what makes it worse.
You stand in front of the mirror for a moment longer than usual, staring at your reflection like it might explain something, then grab your bag and leave before your thoughts can spiral again.
Outside, the air is cold enough to sting your face.
It helps. A little.
Halfway down the street, you spot Shoko waiting near the sidewalk like she’s been there longer than she wants to admit.
“You look like shit,” she says immediately.
You exhale. “Good morning to you too.”
She pushes off the wall and starts walking beside you. “Didn’t sleep?”
“Barely.”
“Nightmares?”
You hesitate for half a second.
“…Something like that.”
She doesn’t push it, but you can feel her watching you differently now—less casual, more aware.
“You hear about the second body?” she asks instead.
You frown. “Second?”
She nods. “Found near the west parking lot early this morning. Campus is losing it.”
That makes your stomach tighten slightly.
“…That’s insane.”
“Yeah,” she says flatly. “People act like it’s a movie until it’s not.”
You don’t answer right away.
Because that hits closer than you want it to.
The idea of something being entertainment until it suddenly isn’t.
You walk in silence for a bit after that.
The closer you get to campus, the more everything changes.
More people.
More noise.
More tension.
News vans are already parked near the gates.
Reporters shouting.
Cameras moving.
Students crowded around like they can’t decide whether they’re scared or entertained.
Another body has been found.
That’s what everyone keeps repeating.
Another body.
Another warning.
Another reason to look over your shoulder.
“Jesus,” you mutter. “It’s like the whole campus broke overnight.”
Shoko glances at you. “It kind of did.”
You step through the gates.
Immediately, the noise swallows you.
Students everywhere.
Phones up.
Voices overlapping.
Rumors spreading faster than facts.
“I heard it was near the dorms.”
“No, it was someone from class—”
“That’s not even funny, stop—”
Some people are laughing.
Too loud.
Too casual.
Like it’s not real.
You pass them and feel your expression tighten.
“People are insane,” you mutter.
“People cope badly,” Shoko replies.
Inside the main building, it only gets worse.
Bulletin boards are already covered in emergency notices.
“DO NOT WALK ALONE AT NIGHT.”
“REPORT SUSPICIOUS ACTIVITY.”
“SECURITY ESCORT AVAILABLE.”
Like that helps now.
Students crowd every hallway, replaying news clips, dissecting rumors like it’s entertainment instead of death.
“Did you see the footage?”
“My friend said it was near the east dorms.”
“It’s probably fake—”
“Bro, people literally died.”
You push through it all, keeping your head down.
Not because you’re calm.
But because you don’t want to think too hard about any of it.
Shoko glances at you again. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” you say too fast. “Just tired.”
She doesn’t look convinced.
But she doesn’t push.
You keep walking.
A nearby group has a news video playing on full volume.
The reporter’s voice cuts through the noise:
“…authorities confirm the victim was discovered early this morning—”
A few students react like it’s a trailer.
Others go quiet.
Some laugh.
You frown and keep moving.
“Some people are sick,” you mutter.
“Yeah,” Shoko says. “They are.”
The hallway stretches ahead of you, crowded and loud and chaotic, but you focus on it anyway.
Step by step.
Trying not to think about last night.
Trying not to think about the voice.
Trying not to think about how everything suddenly feels connected in a way you can’t explain.
Because something is happening.
And even if you don’t want to admit it—
it already feels like it’s getting closer.
── დ ──
Lunchtime at campus feels almost fake.
Like the world outside has been screaming about death and panic all morning, and inside the cafeteria everyone decided to act like it’s just another normal Tuesday.
You sit outside first.
Away from the noise.
Away from the packed tables and constant buzzing of voices that all sound too loud for a place where people are supposed to be mourning something.
Your tray sits untouched beside you.
Food you don’t really feel like eating.
Your eyes drift across the courtyard without really focusing on anything.
You’re not thinking about anything specific.
Which is worse.
Because it means your mind keeps going back to everything you’re trying not to think about.
The phone call.
The voice.
The news reports.
The way everything suddenly feels like it’s building toward something you can’t see yet.
“You’re gonna turn into one of those sad movie characters if you keep staring into space like that.”
The voice comes from above you.
Before you even look up, you already know who it is.
drops into the seat next to you like he owns it, immediately throwing an arm around your shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
You immediately roll your eyes. “Get off me.”
“No,” he says simply.
Of course.
Behind him, sits down more slowly, like he’s actually aware of gravity and consequences. His eyes flick to you for a second, then away again, like he’s already analyzing something you haven’t said out loud yet.
Gojo leans in slightly, grinning. “So. Murder campus. Fun times, right?”
You let out a tired breath. “That’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny,” he argues.
“It’s literally people dying.”
Gojo shrugs. “Yeah, but like… not us.”
That makes you pause.
Sukuna immediately sighs. “Shut up.”
Gojo ignores him. “What? I’m being realistic.”
You shake your head slightly. “How can someone just… do that to people? Like it’s nothing?”
Your voice is quieter now.
More serious than you meant it to be.
Gojo glances at you, but doesn’t joke this time.
Sukuna watches you longer.
You don’t notice right away.
Your eyes drift slightly past them, unfocused again, like your mind is somewhere else entirely.
Back to the phone call.
The voice.
The way it knew things it shouldn’t have known.
The way it made you feel like you were already being watched.
“Hey.”
Sukuna’s voice cuts through your thoughts.
Low.
Sharper than Gojo’s.
You blink, snapping back into the present. “What?”
He’s still looking at you.
Not joking.
Not teasing.
Just watching.
“You’re not listening,” he says.
You force a small shrug. “Just tired.”
Gojo leans back. “She’s always tired. It’s her personality trait.”
“Shut up,” you mutter automatically.
Sukuna’s gaze lingers a second longer, like he’s not fully buying it.
But then he looks away.
You stand up suddenly.
Your chair scrapes lightly against the ground.
Both of them look up at you.
“Where are you going?” Gojo asks immediately.
You adjust your bag. “Back to class.”
Already halfway checked out.
Gojo leans back dramatically. “Wow. Leaving us for education? Betrayal.”
You roll your eyes. “You’ll survive.”
Sukuna doesn’t say anything at first.
Then, flatly: “Don’t skip meals.”
You pause slightly.
Then shrug. “Not your problem.”
Gojo gasps. “Wow. Cold.”
You turn to leave.
And behind you, Gojo calls out loudly, completely unconcerned:
“Hey, you think the killer picks victims alphabetically or just vibes?”
You stop.
Slowly turn your head.
Stare at him.
Then flip him off without saying a word.
Gojo raises both hands instantly. “What? I’m just asking questions!”
Sukuna exhales sharply like he’s done with both of you.
Then—
he picks up an empty water bottle from the table and throws it directly at Gojo’s head.
Gojo dodges it, laughing. “Dude!”
“Idiot,” Sukuna mutters.
You shake your head slightly, but despite everything, a small breath of air leaves you that almost feels like laughter.
Almost.
For a moment, it feels normal again.
Just school.
Just friends.
Just noise.
But as you walk away, the feeling from earlier doesn’t fully leave.
It just sits underneath everything.
Waiting.
Like it never left in the first place.
── დ ──
When school finally ends, it doesn’t feel like relief.
It feels like everyone is just being released back into the same danger, one group at a time.
Students spill out of the building in clusters—pairs, friend groups, people sticking closer than usual like distance suddenly matters in a way it didn’t before.
You adjust your bag strap and start walking home alone.
The sidewalks feel too open.
Too exposed.
Every passing car makes your head turn slightly before you realize it’s nothing.
You try not to think about it.
Try not to think about anything at all, actually.
That’s when you hear it.
A car slows down beside you.
Not too fast.
Not aggressive.
Just matching your pace.
You already know before you look.
Gojo leaning halfway out the passenger window like he has no respect for physics or personal space.
“Get in,” he calls casually.
You stop walking immediately. “No.”
He grins. “Get in before you become tonight’s headline.”
You stare at him. “That’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny,” he shrugs.
From the driver’s seat, doesn’t even look impressed. His voice is flat when he speaks.
“Stop acting stupid and get in.”
You narrow your eyes. “I said no.”
Gojo tilts his head. “You really wanna walk alone right now? With everything going on?”
“I’ve walked alone before.”
“Not with murder news on every screen,” he replies.
You hesitate.
Just for a second.
Sukuna finally glances at you. Not pushing. Not joking. Just watching.
That’s what gets you.
Not Gojo’s teasing.
Not the warning.
Just Sukuna’s silence.
You exhale sharply. “Fine. Whatever.”
Gojo immediately cheers like he’s won something. “See? Common sense prevails.”
“Shut up,” you mutter as you climb into the back seat.
The car is warm.
Too normal.
That’s the weird part.
Inside it feels like nothing is wrong at all.
Like campus isn’t panicking.
Like people aren’t dying.
Like last night didn’t happen.
Gojo turns the music on almost immediately.
Something upbeat.
Annoyingly loud.
He starts talking about nothing—professors, dumb students, random things he saw on campus. You find yourself laughing a little despite everything.
Even Sukuna seems less tense in the quiet way he drives.
It should feel safe.
It almost does.
By the time you reach the diner, the sky has already started dimming into evening.
The place is bright inside.
Warm lights.
Empty booths near the back.
You slide into one across from them, finally letting your shoulders relax slightly.
For the first time all day—
you feel okay.
Gojo immediately leans across the table. “Okay, I want fries. And milkshake. And don’t judge me.”
“I’m judging you,” you reply automatically.
“Good. Means I’m doing it right.”
You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling.
Sukuna sits back in the booth, arms loosely crossed, watching the two of you like he’s half annoyed and half used to it.
It almost feels normal.
Almost.
The food comes.
Gojo talks too much.
You talk back.
For a while, it actually feels like the world stopped being terrifying.
Like you’re just three students wasting time in a diner.
Then your phone buzzes.
Once.
Then again.
You hesitate.
Sukuna notices first.
“What is it?” he asks.
You stare at your screen for a second too long.
Then slowly set it down.
“…I got a call last night.”
Gojo’s expression shifts immediately.
Not joking anymore.
Not playful.
Curious.
Too curious.
“Oh?” he says, leaning in slightly. “From who?”
You shrug. “Unknown number.”
Sukuna goes still.
Not dramatically.
Just subtly.
Like something in him just locked into place.
Gojo tilts his head. “And?”
You hesitate.
Then decide to say it anyway.
“They knew weird stuff,” you admit. “Like… things I didn’t tell anyone. Stuff about me being alone. About the house. Just… creepy shit.”
Gojo’s smile fades into something sharper.
Not fear.
Interest.
He leans forward more. “Like what?”
“I don’t know,” you say. “They were just messing with me, probably.”
But even as you say it, you don’t fully believe it.
Gojo laughs softly. “Okay, that’s kinda insane.”
Sukuna doesn’t laugh.
Doesn’t react at all.
Which is worse.
You glance at him.
“…What?”
He meets your eyes for a second.
Then looks away.
“Nothing,” he says.
But his voice is tighter than before.
Gojo keeps going, still intrigued. “Did they threaten you or something?”
You pause.
Then shrug again. “Kind of. Just stupid talk.”
Sukuna’s jaw tightens slightly.
You notice that.
You always notice that.
But you don’t know why.
The diner suddenly feels less warm.
Less safe.
Gojo is still smiling.
Sukuna is still quiet.
And you’re suddenly not sure which one of those is worse.
The silence that follows doesn’t last long.
Gojo leans back first, breaking it like it never existed.
“So basically,” he says, grabbing a fry off your plate without asking, “you got creepy spam-called by some bored psychopath.”
You immediately slap his hand away. “Don’t touch my food.”
“Not the point,” he says, chewing anyway.
“It kind of is the point.”
Sukuna exhales through his nose, low and annoyed. “Focus.”
Gojo points at him with the fry. “I am focused. I’m multitasking.”
You lean forward slightly, arms resting on the table now. “It wasn’t just spam though. That’s the thing. It felt… I don’t know. Intentional.”
Gojo tilts his head. “Intentional how?”
You hesitate.
Because saying it out loud makes it sound worse.
“They knew I was alone,” you say finally. “Like… they said it like they were sure.”
That lands differently.
Gojo’s expression shifts again, just slightly.
Not scared.
Just less playful.
“…Okay,” he says slowly. “That’s actually kind of creepy.”
Sukuna’s voice cuts in immediately.
“What else did they say?”
You glance at him. “Why?”
He doesn’t answer right away.
Just looks at you.
Like he’s waiting.
Like he’s measuring something.
You shift a little under that stare. “They asked questions. Stupid horror movie stuff. Then they started acting like they could see me or something.”
Gojo grins faintly. “Okay, I take back ‘kind of creepy.’ That’s full creepy.”
Sukuna’s expression doesn’t change, but his fingers tap once against the table.
Once.
Then stop.
You notice it.
You don’t know why.
But you do.
“…You guys are acting weird,” you say slowly.
Gojo points at himself immediately. “Me? Never.”
You squint at him. “You’re always weird. That’s not new.”
“Rude,” he says, offended.
Sukuna finally speaks again, quieter this time.
“Did they mention anyone else?”
You blink. “What?”
“Your friends” he repeats. “Did they mention them?”
Gojo glances at Sukuna briefly now.
You notice that too.
Something passing between them.
Something you can’t quite read.
“…No,” you say slowly. “Why would they?”
Sukuna leans back again, like he didn’t mean to push that question too hard.
“Just asking,” he says flatly.
Gojo clears his throat, breaking the moment again. “Anyway, not to make this more fun or anything, but if it was a stalker thing, you should probably—”
“I’m not getting a bodyguard,” you interrupt immediately.
Gojo grins. “I was gonna say share your location.”
“Same energy.”
Sukuna mutters, “You already do.”
You pause. “What?”
Gojo immediately laughs. “He’s joking.”
Sukuna doesn’t correct him.
That makes it worse.
You stare between them for a second.
“…Do I?” you ask slowly.
Gojo waves it off. “Relax. He’s just being dramatic.”
But Sukuna is still looking at you.
Not smiling.
Not joking.
Just watching.
So you drop it.
The conversation shifts again after that.
Gojo starts rambling about something stupid—a professor who “definitely looks like he’s hiding something in his basement,” which earns him a dirty look from you and a muttered “you’re actually insane.”
It almost works.
Almost makes things normal again.
But every time you stop talking—
the earlier conversation lingers.
The call.
The questions.
The way Sukuna went quiet at the wrong moment.
Eventually, you push your milkshake away slightly.
“…I should probably head home after this,” you say.
Gojo groans dramatically. “We just saved your life emotionally and you’re ditching us?”
“You did not save my life.”
“I absolutely did,” he insists.
Sukuna stands up first.
No dramatics.
Just calm movement.
“We’ll take you,” he says.
You blink. “I can walk—”
“No,” he cuts in immediately
Gojo grins again. “See? He cares.”
Sukuna ignores him completely.
And for some reason—
that simple refusal doesn’t feel like concern anymore.
It feels like certainty.
Like walking alone was never even an option to begin with.
Synopsis. On campus? Choso Kamo’s the sweet, shy nerd you share film class with - the one who can barely meet your eyes without blushing. Online? Choso Kamo is really @cursed(your)wombz—the #1 streamer on C4mBoyfriends with 820k followers to see his…nine inches. And he might just be looking for a partner.
Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, streamer!Choso, (sort of) B́J Alex AU, cámboy!Choso, college AU, he’s a nerd, film nerd!Choso, secret identities, masks, píercings (ears, tóngue, D), tattoos, chat, streaming, you’re a fan, identity reveal, exhíbitíonism, oraI (fem rec.), again PlERCINGS, tongue f, spítting, p sIapping, p talking, letting the viewers choose, fíngering with rings, overstím, dúmbifícation, Jacob’s Ladder, rough s, fiIthy s, he’s sIightly mean, tummy buIges, making it fit, pressing down, talking you through it, cIit pinching, pússydrúnk Choso, matíng presses, chokíng, manhandIing, mocking, sIight níppIe stim, creampíes, chat Iove you, cúmpIay, getting together, Phantom of the Opera references, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 14.9k
A/N. Hehehehehe-
Sunday was the night you’d found him; sprawled out on your bed and thumbing through the Internet. Some glitzy pop song you couldn’t name blasted from your speakers, and the room was saturated in the tingly excitement of having speedy Wi-Fi, no assignments, and the night to yourself. LED lights pink.
You’re checking some of your messages - doling out a few hearts, a few reposts - when that bell-shaped button bursts in blue. A new notification.
@cursed(your)wombz liked your repost.
It was on a photograph of the Sun—big and yellow, seemingly melting over a grey horizon.
Which was perfectly ordinary- this was the Internet, after all. And though your list of followers was modest, of course you’d interact with a stranger here and there.
The problem was in the way the notification disappeared as soon as it came.
An…accident maybe? This person had liked and unliked your repost. And without a second thought, you’re typing their username into the search bar.
And clicking on their profile.
@cursed(your)wombz huh?
He had a pitch-black profile picture and a layout with nothing of note, a banner as equally colorless and unnotable, and a simple bio stating:
I know what you want…
- C.
And beneath that was a link.
It stood out stark against the black background. You don’t click on it, of course- for fear of being something malicious, you’re avoiding it like you’d avoid a minefield.
You’ve already heard one too many horror stories on here about such things. One click and you’d find your address posted somewhere. Instead, your eyes drop to the number of followers he had…and your eyebrows are immediately shooting up.
0 Following.
581k Followers.
Now that makes you blink.
Okay- alright, maybe it wasn’t the most astounding number you’ve ever seen throughout your expansive time on the Internet - but it was still niche celebrity-status. Especially on this app. Especially to be stalking an account like yours…where all you did was repost the stray picture of a pretty landscape or yell into the aether about your missing assignments for your friends to comment on.
Now that was a little strange.
And so you’re scrolling down.
And you never quite know what you’re in for whenever you enter the realm of a person’s account—fanfiction with tags you never knew existed, one part of an argument on social media that really shouldn’t exist, mpreg.
Which was all fine and dandy to be quite honest- you just never expect to be met with the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes on.
The first picture you’re seeing- pinned.
Posted just an hour ago. It’s a mirror selfie taken at a low angle; of a man with his body angled towards the lens and his phone covering his face. In nothing but a towel. With nothing but his chiselled body. His beefy arms flexed as he takes the picture, biceps rippled with a few veins—though still lean and almost smooth to the touch. Pierced nipples. Defined abs. Your eyes linger on the sparse dusting of dark hair leading below, below, below his fluffy white towel…
The picture cuts off just a few inches past his navel. You know because you’re enlarging it.
The photo is almost vampiric in nature.
Somehow.
Dimly-lit. Beautiful—he clearly knew his angles and lighting. It’s slightly blurry and you can’t make out much of the man’s features - nothing more than the slender length of his fingers, silver rings, and the outline of his dark (perhaps brown?) hair. Touching his shoulders. From just above the hem of his towel, the amorphous blur of a tattoo snakes down his left v-line - and no matter how much you’re zooming in, you can’t quite figure out what it is.
Something twists at the pit of your stomach as you’re latching your eyes onto the very obvious bulge he was sporting through the towel - very.
The flash created a shadow of his lengthy cock—oh. Hanging between thick thighs, heavy and needy. And it also illuminated the slight dampness clinging onto his body; perhaps he’d just gotten out of the shower, or was about to take on after a workout.
Whichever scenario it was, both made your thighs clench- fuck.
Fingers slightly shaky, you’re exiting out of the picture and scrolling down for more.
The next post is a video seemingly taken from the very same instance: it was from the point of view of the beautiful man. Facing downwards, as he zoomed the camera in on his bulge and ran one vein-covered, ringed hand down his abs- down his pelvis- down to that throbbing erection and squeezed himself through his towel.
And then through your speakers echoes out the most pornographic moan.
Thank goodness your dorm had thick walls.
And that’s when you decide that you’ve seen enough.
Not enough as in enough enough to block this strange man and move on with your life- of course, not. As quickly as your fingers would possibly let you, you’re exiting out of the video and scrolling up to a bio that seemed to have more to hide than the first time you read through it.
The link stands mockingly stark - almost winking at you - against the dark background. You think you know what it is.
And you click on it.
Suddenly, your laptop screen’s flooding with a gaudy pink color. A loading circle swivels in the middle of it for a few seconds, before you’re met with a logo in swooping, slanted black script: C4mBoyfriends. Better than that boy in your dms.
Rapidly, you’re opening up a new tab and typing in the name.
“C4mBoyfriends is an adult streaming platform that hosts webcam performers that choose to label themselves as male. Here they can stream live video, post photographs, and interact on forums with a wide array of paying viewers—for a range of content catering to specific niches or sexual roleplays. C4mBoyfriends, since its recent launch, has shot up in the industry as one of the most-visited adult sites and the safest for its performers. All cuts go to the performers themselves and the site runs on separate donations from its audience.”
Ah- you’d guessed right.
Excitement burbles at the pit of your stomach for a few seconds. You’re clicking back onto the tab with the pink logo, and finding that it’d stopped loading.
It was in the layout of a streaming device, with static images of ongoing streams on one side of the platform, and different pages listed out on top. But what took up the majority of your screen was the vision of the very same man from before- from the mirror selfie, from the video.
This time, it was a stream.
@cursed(your)wombz is streaming—#1 streamer on C4mBoyfriends [101 week streak]. [Only solo]. Your internet boyfriend <3
0 Subscribed.
820k Subscribers.
455k Currently watching.
This time, he had his towel lifted up and his hands fisted around his fat cock.
Perfectly angled.
Your jaw drops. He was about eight- maybe more inches, though you weren’t in the state to count. Way too entranced by the way his veiny, ring-decorated hands were wrapped around his cock. Large. He was just so loooong and standing tall between wide-spread legs, shiverin’ every time he’s gliding his hand up and down. Up and down.
Again and again.
Getting faster by the second before he arches-
The edge of his thumb’s reaching for his ruby-red crown—then smearing the glistening liquid that just kept on foaming from the top. He lathers it upon his palm and drags it down his hot erection, making every inch gleam underneath the off-camera lighting.
You’re clicking on a button to increase your volume.
And just in time, too, because then he snakes his left hand down and squeezes his heavy balls- letting out a botched groan that leaves your shorts oh-so-wet.
Deep and guttural; there’s a slight quiver in them as he whispers. “F-fuck.” Just so full and sensitive—the man’s head tips backwards and his hips buck off the cushioned chair. Sluttily. As though he was fucking something invisible. It’s creaking ever-so-slightly as he settles back down, composing himself just a little bit before he starts cumming.
Pearly white droplets of cum.
Beading from the very top of his shaft - where he was the most pink n’ angry - shaking as he empties out. Globs of it start to glide down his length, and a few more collect where his silver Prince Albert’s piercing was positioned right beneath his mushroomy tip.
You’re just letting your eyes linger upon that little heap of satiny sap, when the man thumbs upwards and smears that, too. Such a mess.
And you think that might be all- but then he’s reaching his non-dominant hand upwards and pressing down on his frothing cockhead. Stopping himself from cumming - and as he leans to the side, you swear you’re glimpsing the twinkle of even more piercings on the upper side of his shaft. Was that…a Jacob’s ladder?
You’re rendered so damn speechless that you almost don’t register him speaking- “Awwww, did my pretty sluts wanna watch me cum?”
A shiver runs down your spine at the hitched tone of his voice- drunk on lust. He’s slightly slurring. So alluring, you almost catch yourself nodding.
“Well, too bad.” The man meanly snickers, before he’s suddenly reaching out with his non-dominant hand and angling it higher. The screen shifts to display that very same mouth-watering body from the picture—though, this time with the addition of a black-and-white mask that covered his features from forehead to his sharp jawline.
The only opening in it was a concave cutout for his mouth - almost reminiscent of a Phantom of the Opera mask. In the background was a clearly expensive bedroom of a clearly expensive home - far different from your single dorm - an artwork that you couldn’t name on the wall behind him. Something like a photograph or a portrait. Something about it was so precise- so cinematic. Like watching a movie scene. He continues, “Because you know why? You don’t deserve it.”
There’s a flurry of comments on one side of the screen, so fast that you wonder how he reads it.
“Didn’t I tell you to spam me with your nastiest stories in the chat?” He asks, and from beneath his mask you catch the outline of dark eyes shifting down those hurried words. Those needy comments. “None of you are nasty enough, so none of you get to see me cum…”
You’re tearing your eyes off of him to peruse what they were saying.
@girrrrrrrrrrth: nuuuuuu please, curse! i’ll get on my knees!!
@vampzo333: me too ME TOO
@likezmenpregnant: My story about the body pillow wasn’t nasty enough? TT
@CCpervnextdoor: AWWWW I’m begging~
@Curse’swifey: I’LL PAY YOU EXTRA PLEASEEEEEEE
@Curse’swifey donated 500 cherries.
“Tch- what a desperate bunch. Just fucking look at yourselves…” And though his words weren’t in the least bit nice, you couldn’t deny just how badly he made your cunt twinge.
Curse…that’s what his name was, huh?
You’re squeezing your thighs together- your sleep shorts were definitely soaked.
Curse rolls out the kinks in his neck just a little, and stares down at the camera with a crooked grin. “But that’s not gonna be enough. I said to be nasty- so be nasty.” The active chat becomes nothing but a blur once more: pleas, donations, stories half-typed in their urgency. “And in return I’ll moan whatever name you want me to moan when I cum.”
Before you know it, you’re opening up the sign-up page in a new tab.
Keeping Curse’s livestream playing in the background as you zip through your details. You’re picking out a username for yourself: Ietsmakeamovie and hastily going back to the ongoing stream with your newfound handle. Was it too obvious to make it the same username as your other account? The one that he had stalked?
Fuck- you’re too wound up to think of something else at this point. You decide that you’ll change it later…
Luckily, Curse’s stream didn’t have a paying threshold before you could comment. And you’re jittery with excitement as you pull the laptop closer to yourself and start typing out something—hitting send before you could overthink it.
@Ietsmakeamovie: Seeing you is the first time I’ve gotten this wet.
Curse’s eyes drift down the chat, and he seems to latch onto something. Eyes widening just a fraction.
“The first time?”
Fuck.
You’re feeling a jolt at the way he addresses you - never expecting him to pick out that comment amongst tens of thousands of others that were uttering even filthier things. Curse leans in and speaks with his deep tone, “Those other boys didn’t know how to treat a perfect pussy like yours, huh? This is why they call me the Internet boyfriend, baby.”
@Ietsmakeamovie: Yeah.
@Ietsmakeamovie: Fuck, you’re so hot.
@Ietsmakeamovie: I don’t even wanna look away to touch myself.
You feel embarrassed typing it all out - but you console yourself with the notion that no one here knows who you are. And you don’t know anyone here, either.
Curse leans back and starts pumping his cock even harder—taking his left hand off the drivelling top. His milky-white precum is frenzied n’ sticks to his hand like glue, and the chat grows more and more excited as Curse’s actions do the same.
“That’s alright, baby, you don’t have to finger yourself.” He chuckles, eyes locked on the comments. “I’d be doing that for you if I was there.”
@Ietsmakeamovie: Wish you were. You’d reach so much deeper.
@Ietsmakeamovie donated 1000 cherries.
“Fuh-fuck—” He hisses, head throwing back in his chair. You take the time to admire the lines of his prominent Adam’s apple - the way it bobs every time he’s taking a shaky swallow. “No need to donate or anything, baby, just keep- ngh, talking t’me like this and that’s enough…”
@0003h0lesforCurse: holy shit. i’ve never seen him like this.
@CCpervnextdoor: Needy Curse I like it~
@bewbsRlife: KEEP GOING OP KEEP GOING!!
You giggle to yourself.
@Ietsmakeamovie: Enough to make you cum, Curse?
“Greedy, greedy girl…” Through the slightest gaps in his mask you’re catching the way his nose crinkles in amusement. A wolfish smile. “S’that what you all want?”
The chat explodes in agreement.
He cocks his head, “Movie?”
Was that your new nickname now? Hastily, you reply-
@Ietsmakeamovie: Mhm.
“Well then…” He grins, toned body arching off the chair. “Get ready for a show—” Darkened gaze narrowing at the comments, “And you better not take your eyes off of me for a single second- hump your damn pillows if you have to. I don’t care.”
Quickly grabbing your own puffy pillow, you’re stuffing it between your legs.
Right as Curse lets his head loll backwards- and his cum drizzles out of his cock. He’s been edging the poor viewers and overstimulatin’ himself for so fucking long now—all it takes is a few pumps to let the cascade of white coat his hands and his rings. Just the slightest bit of silver peaking through.
Hard and fast.
The man’s cockhead flushes even redder as he drags his high out deliciously. Every burst of dopamine. Every heaving pant. Every pretty moan escaping him.
It seems to be ramming into him in waves- gooey ribbons of seed coat his digits. Getting smeared like a gloss across eeeeevery single inch, ridge, and vein—and since Curse’s pace was something furious, a few globs of cum splatter across the towel and onto his thighs. A mess that he’s seeming to love.
Because in the next few seconds, he’s wrung out just the final bits of pleasure in him- and is raising his cum-coated fingers up to his mouth and sucking. Staring straight into the camera lens as he does so.
You’re watching slack-jawed as those long, lacquered digits disappear between his lips. Finishin’ them off squeaky clean and letting his head tip to the side.
He mouths, “Movie—”
Part of your username.
Though you hadn’t asked for him to moan your name, as he’d promised to do to one of the viewers had they been nasty enough. And this special treatment…
Maybe he did it to every new viewer. Maybe he just liked how much you complimented him- though everyone else did, too. Either way, it’s perhaps what sets off the bursts of electricity between your legs—and soon enough you’re hurtling into a high you hadn’t even realized had been building up and up and up.
Your lashes flutter shut as the orgasm overtakes you.
Hips ruttin’ away into the plushness of your pillow- you wonder just how much better riding him would be…
And that’s setting off a whole new layer of dopamine at your core, your cunt quiverin’ as white-hot pleasure makes your heartbeat throb in your ears. Chest pounding. Breaths heavy.
By the time you’ve finished pushing through your high, you’re coming to find that Curse had somewhat cleaned himself up with the towel and was bantering back n’ forth with the chat. He rests his head on one hand and sweeps his eyes down the usernames, “What happened to dear Movie, huh?” Curse pretends to pout. “The first stream wasn’t too much for her, right?”
@girrrrrrrrrrth: kekekeke you’re too freaky, curse!!
@CCpervnextdoor: So dirty~
@daddytoeknee: Must thank Movie for the show though…
Urgently, you’re gathering yourself and tapping a few buttons on-screen.
@Ietsmakeamovie subscribed to @cursed(your)wombz.
@Ietsmakeamovie donated 2500 cherries.
@Ietsmakeamovie: It’d never be too much.
“Ahhh, there you are.” Such a beautiful smile smears across his face, and Curse’s leaning in to take a closer look at the comments. “And thank you for subscribing, same time tomorrow?”
You’re unsure whether that was directed at you or everyone viewing- but you’re chiming in agreement alongside the rest of the comments. And Curse reads through them, lingering for just a little while longer before he grins.
“Heh- bye, sluts.”
And he covers the camera, the stream cuts off.
Yet your heart still thunders.
Ignoring the time at the bottom of your laptop screen, you’re then clicking on his profile and scrolling through what other videos he had…
.
.
.
It was your fault that you kept dozing off.
Honestly.
You should have known better- and you know that you should’ve known better…but you couldn’t help yourself. After Curse’s initial stream, you spent some time browsing through the numerous photographs and short clips that he’d posted; there were even some saved streams that were each dirtier than the last—each with his attractive mask and his even more attractive voice, his sensual cock getting pumped over and over for the audiences.
And so you’d left a few comments, a few hearts.
Throughout all of them, you made the peculiar discovery that they were all more high-quality than the last. The standard of being the #1 on the site, you guess. But the lighting and angles were all just so perfect…
You’d watched them for just a little while- at least, what you’d thought was a little while. Because by the time you’re realizing that your laptop battery was dying, and your eyes were tired, you’re turning your head in the direction of the dorm windows and- fuck.
Why was the Sun coming up?
And so you’d rushed to get at least half an hour of sleep before you had to get up for your 8AM lecture.
Professor Yaga taught Film 101 as though he was trying to scare everyone off it. Rigorous coursework and never-altered deadlines. Though you yourself wouldn’t consider him an unreasonable man, it was impertinent to be punctual and alert in his classes - and right now, you were feeling neither of those.
By the grace of the universe, you’re somehow managing to stumble into class just two minutes after it starts. It’s not enough to rouse Yaga’s anger - and either way, you had made a name for yourself as one of his most avid students - though it does get you a sternly raised brow as you apologize and take the nearest open seat.
Just-so-happening to be in the very last row.
At the very forgotten corner.
Right beside who you knew to be Yaga’s actually most avid student—Choso Kamo.
Had it been a race between the two of you - perhaps between the entire department - Choso would have finished five times before anyone’s even stepping past the finish line. You would’ve gotten second. And that wasn’t to diminish your abilities in any way - you’d long since proven yourself to be one of the best students this course had even seen - it’s just…Choso was a film nerd through and through.
If there was anyone that could live up to such a title, then it was him.
Choso lived, slept, and breathed film and television. He could name any television show around the world with just a single frame, and most he could recite line-for-line. Oh, that? He learned Korean just to immerse himself in that scene in Parasite. That scene? It was from the 1957 Sri Lankan film Amba Yahaluwo, by the way did you know that Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom was filmed there, too?
Knitted vest. Hair in two messy space buns.
Clunky glasses rested atop his nosebridge, and dark bangs covering most of his vision, you’d often see him tottering around campus with a column of books that was damn-near taller than him. And despite his towering demeanour - from your mental counting, Choso was around 6’2 or more - around most of the student body, he was the type that couldn’t meet your eyes no matter how many classes you shared with him.
Even now, as you seated right next to him and smiled- Choso softly yelps and turns away from.
You don’t take it personally, of course, as he was simply the shy type. And by the flush that rises to his high cheekbones, you know he - at the very least - doesn’t dislike you.
Situating yourself, you’re opening your bag and pulling out your laptop. Opening it- fuck.
The briefest flash of one of Curses’s previous streams—where he had his cock in his hands and his face contorted mid-ecstasy flashes across your screen. And you can’t slam your laptop shut fast enough- cracking it just the slightest bit to exit out of the numerous tabs, fingers nothing but a blur. Thank fuck your volume hadn’t been set on high.
Head ducked, you’re looking out from the corner of your eye to check whether Choso had seen anything.
But if he did, he shows no indication.
Only keeping his back ramrod straight- his gaze ahead- his flush fiery as he listens to whatever Yaga was saying.
And so you think you’re in the clear…for now…
Opening your laptop up once more, you’re logging onto your lecture platforms and attempting to forget about last night. Which was difficult when that smile upon Curse’s face, just beneath his mask - was the only thing running through your mind.
And before you know it, you’d been staring blankly at your screen for a few seconds—before Choso inches in just a centimeter closer. Unwilling to let himself take up even more space. He keeps his eyes trained ahead and his voice - fuck, you’d never heard his voice before but it was just so deep and measured, something you wouldn’t have expected out of him - low.
Whispering to you, “H-he’s on Chapter 18 of Stone Butch Blues, we’re about to write a screenplay for the zoo scene.”
“Ah…” You don’t know whether you’re more surprised at the timbre of his voice or the way he managed a proper sentence out to you. All your previous attempts at conversation throughout the semester had been futile—and you’d long resigned yourself to the idea that he was too nervous to ever talk to you. “Th-thank you.”
He doesn’t answer but nods in shy acknowledgement.
And as you’re opening up your file, you bask in the realization that Choso Kamo was actually hot underneath those glasses. If only you could see his features further…
Maybe you’re being a little delirious. Your eyes feel heavy.
Heavy.
Heavier.
Tap-tap-tap.
A shake.
Tap-tap-tap-tap.
A warm hand on your shoulder, by the time you’re opening your eyes- you’re looking up into even warmer, molten chocolate-colored ones. They were framed by fawny eyelashes and thick glasses that made his shy gaze seem ever-so-slightly amplified.
You think you’re stunned for a few seconds before Choso speaks, “U-um…class is over.”
“Oh.” That makes you dart your head up and look around, noticing that most of the students had filtered in or were in the process of already doing so. “Oh, shit-”
You’d seriously slept through all that?
And Yaga had left you alive?!
No, you weren’t going to question this act of mercy—thank goodness for the last row, because he likely hadn’t been able to see you. Shooting upright, you’re grabbing all your things and hoping you hadn’t snored next to the sweet boy - “Thank you so much for waking me.” You’re turning towards him and saying, earnestness seeping into your tone. “Knowing me, I would’ve slept right through till next class. Might actually have been more convenient.”
He startles into a laugh then raises a hand up to his mouth and quietens himself down, “It’s alright.” You’re staring closely at the little bells of laughter, and he turns his eyes downwards. Bashfully admitting, “Happens to me too, whenever I stay up um- studying. Long night?”
You sigh, “You could say that…” Not a long night studying, but…
And as the conversation quietens down and Choso worries down on his bottom lip, you’re hiking your backpack up on your shoulders and saying. “Well, I guess I should be going then. Catch up on the recordings of the lecture and everything-” Turning, “See you ‘round—and thanks again.”
You make all of five steps before Choso finally gathers up the courage to call out-
“Wait—!”
Confused, you’re facing him once more. “Yes?”
And his hand was out, his fingers were slightly trembling. He was mouthing out the words as though still debating whether to speak them into existence - whether he was capable of. “I…we-” Eventually mustering up the courage once you give a reassuring nod, “When will we meet up?”
That makes you pause.
Was he…
“F-for the assignment.” Choso clarifies, a flush rising to his cheeks as he likely realizes he should’ve led with that. “Professor Yaga’s mid-semester project he always does…”
Ah—you’re clapping a palm on your forehead. How could you have forgotten? Yaga had announced at the start of the semester that about halfway through, the class would be paired up or put into groups to work on a collaborative project that contributed to about 50% of your grade. This semester, it was to write a full-length movie screenplay for a book or musical of your choice. And you’d been excited for it, in fact, but after the…activities of last night it’d completely slipped your mind that he’d be delving more into it this lecture.
And the poor boy stumbles through his explanation, “H-he let everyone choose their partners, and I wanted to wake you up but…you just looked so peaceful.” He fidgets with his fingers and flushes, “I th-thought one of your friends would come up here and choose you but-”
Probing him gently, “But?”
“B-but I’m afraid you ended up paired with me.” Choso just looks so genuinely apologetic- “I’m sorry- no one picked me either. I should’ve woken you up, but we can go talk with Professor Yaga about changing partners if you’d like-”
“Hey—wait.” You’re cutting off his spiel, something in your chest aching at the utterly devastated furrow between his brows. You take a step closer to him, “I would love to do the project with you, Choso. No need to talk to Yaga about anything.”
He looks up at you with wide, disbelieving eyes. “B-but your friends…”
“I don’t really have close friends in this class, anyway.” You smile, “I’d much rather do it with you.”
“Really—?” Breathed. As if he couldn’t believe it.
And it’s after some time - and a deep inhale - that he speaks again. Finally sinking in that someone would choose him of all people—that you would, that he speaks again. “And um- would you like to work on the script at my place?” Before you can answer, his breath hitches and his head shoots up. “N-not that I’m pressuring you into…it’s nothing weird, I promise! We can meet anywhere else you like- the library, your place- wait, no that’s weird, too…”
“Choso- Choso.” You giggle. And if this was anyone else then you would’ve assumed that they were putting the moves on you. “I’m okay with your place.”
.
.
.
The apartment was a fair distance away from the campus dorms.
Which made sense, you suppose, given the fact that less than half the people there would be able to afford the rent on such a place—especially after tuition. The highrise dove into the clouds, its vermicular body scaled in glistening windows and gold-accented furnishings within. You got the distinct feeling of being swallowed whole as you entered through the widely-gaped entrance, with several doormen and security that eyed you up and down, bowed at Choso.
You thanked them and made your way - slightly speechless - through the hallways.
This was everything you could ever dream of, and you’re sure you spot the odd actor or two down in the lobby. As you’re getting into an elevator the size of your entire dorm room, Choso punches in one of the highest floor numbers and turns to you-
Throughout the bus ride here, you’d been the one chattering away. And so it surprises you once he finally speaks, “I-I’m sorry…my place is a bit of a mess.”
“Can’t be as bad as mine. I won’t judge.” Who cares about a mess when he lives in a place like this? You couldn’t wait to go inside…
He pushes his chunky glasses upwards and gives you a shy smile, “Thank you.” Looking down at his polished shoes, “You’re so sweet.”
“Thank you.”
And you rise upwards in silence.
Soon enough, you’re finding yourself being led up to his massive apartment. He’s punching in the numbers of the code and setting his backpack down—telling you to make yourself comfortable. And you shuffle inside awkwardly; past the lavish furnishings and the alien-shaped lamps that all rich places seemed to boast.
He leads you in the direction of the master bedroom - where Choso said that his film collection was vast and likely to reveal techniques that the two of you would be able to incorporate into your own script.
“I even have a copy of Momijigari- it’s one of my most prized possessions.” He shoots you such a charming smile, eyes twinkling behind his glasses, over his shoulder. Heading inside.
And you can’t help but follow.
A single step inside his not-so-humble abode and you’re feeling a sudden sense of déjà vu wash over you, rendering you unsteady on your feet. Not quite sure why, you’re sweeping your eyes around the space: the high-quality camera equipment in one corner (not unusual to see for a film student), the chic furnishings, and then over to the empty wall space above the king-sized bed, something in you remained dissatisfied as they find nothing there but white plaster.
Choso notices that you’ve stalled behind and looks over at you curiously—he was taking a seat on the carpet, laptop opened up on top of the coffee table. “Something wrong? I’m sorry, I know it’s really messy but-”
“No, you’re good.” You shake your head, “It’s actually not messy enough.”
He smiles.
That night, you went home and wondered why Choso’s smile looked so familiar.
.
.
.
The musical that you’d chosen for your ‘adaptation’ was The Phantom of the Opera, suggested by you, of course.
And if there had been any connection to the masked man you’d been watching the night prior, then you were just glad that Choso had no idea.
It was far easier, given the fact that it’d already been adapted from the initial novel—though that only meant that Yaga would be critiquing yours even harder.
So you had to strive to be more cinematic, than the others in your class, stronger in ways than the ones before you - and though you doubt you’d ever match up to Schumacher’s visuals, there was little doubt as to whether you’d be the best amongst the students. This was a screenplay made to impress, and in the week since you’d pored over it—and Choso Kamo’s mahogany coffee table typing away at it, you only grew more determined in the fact. And throughout the week, you’ve been flitting in and out of that very apartment of his.
Choso had been a lovely partner for the project - the best you could’ve ever asked for - and you’re coming to find that he was actually far more funny than anyone ever gave him credit for. Far more open. Far more active when it came to something he was passionate about.
And of course, you knew that he’d be sweet.
Despite his initial insistence that he could do the project himself, you’d taken up half the work. And you’d joined him in browsing through his massive catalogue of movies, in searching up screenplays to read, and in annotating them for techniques when starting to write yours.
You’ve come to make friends with one of the doormen by now.
Just today you’d watched the 2004 Phantom of the Opera adaptation. And after a few hours of occupying his space and getting to know the nerdy boy a little better, you’d go straight back home to…Curse.
Whenever Choso made you feel tingly with his sweetness, Curse would amplify that heat to right between your legs.
It’s been a week of getting to know Choso Kamo, and a week of having Curse splashed across your laptop screen—cock furiously hard n’ his moans echoing. He’d smile and utter your username whilst wearing his iconic mask and it’d be a high strong enough to follow into the day after. And often Choso would ask you what you’re so happy about.
Today, in particular, Curse had just finished one of his streams - cumming aaaaaall over the desk this time - when he’d settled himself back down and started chatting with the comments. Responding to one or two of yours.
You’re just about to joke about why he was sticking so long after his orgasm when he speaks once more-
Voice somewhat serious, “Alright, now…settle down, settle down.” Curse waves his hand airily at the camera, throwing a middle finger up when the chat only gets more frenzied. “Tch- what brats you all are, would you wanna roleplay that someday?”
@vampzo333: YES PLEASE.
@likezmenpregnant: How about you be the brat…?
@Ietsmakeamovie: I would like that.
@sixeyesorsixh0les: ^^
@0003h0lesforCurse: ^
“Fine fine…” Underneath the mask, he rolls his eyes fondly. “But I really do have something to announce-”
@likezmenpregnant: You’re pregnant.
@Ietsmakeamovie: I’m the father-
@Curse’swifey: NO MEEEEEEEEEEE!!
“I’m thinking of getting a partner for these streams.” He finally admits, rubbing his chin as though still in thought. And your heart stops-
@bipplruletheworld: so down.
@Cursenoticeme44: Omg yeeeeeeeeees!!
@daddytoeknee: YESYESYES.
The chat practically explodes, and you’re unsure what to feel about it—after all, you don’t know Curse and it’d be strange to feel a little possessive over his solo streams, however, you did have your preferences. But then again, you can’t help but imagine just how much hotter it would be to have two people- perhaps to see him make expressions he never has before…
Ultimately, you’re quiet as Curse leans in and scans the chat. His brows furrow just a little as he sweeps through the blurring usernames, “I dunno…I’m still thinking about it- I haven’t even asked this person, to be honest. I just wanted to know what you guys thought.” Nodding his head along or huffing out laughter at some of the comments, “Movie?”
You jolt—at being called out.
He wanted your opinion specifically? You suppose you did contribute to about half his comment section most streams.
But you stall as your fingers reach for the keyboard.
Biting down on your lip and contemplating for a little while. Though he waits as patiently as ever-
@Ietsmakeamovie: I don’t mind!!
Something seems to wash over him as he reads your comment, nodding. “I see.”
He moves onto something else and his expression was indiscernible.
You’re flickering your eyes to the artwork behind him, the small corner of it peaking into the frame, and it suddenly hits you that it’s the theatrical poster of The Phantom of the Opera (2004).
.
.
.
It can’t be.
It can’t be.
It can’t be.
There’s something your brain was telling you that you’re absolutely refusing to believe—after all, how many people in the world loved The Phantom of the Opera? Hell, how many people in the world have watched The Phantom of the Opera?
That didn’t mean that everyone you came across had a secret identity as one of the hottest streamers on C4mBoyfriends.
You were being paranoid, you told yourself. You were being utterly silly- and the next time you’re going over to Choso’s apartment was the very next day. Which wasn’t entirely ideal, given how much you’d tossed and turned after Curse’s last stream conjuring up all the possibilities…but Yaga wouldn’t accept a request for an extension even if you were set on fire in front of him. And so you went.
The pit of your stomach twists as Choso swings the lavish wooden door open and gives you a beaming smile. So innocent. So sweet.
He shakily pushes his glasses up as he welcomes you in. “Come in—s-sorry if I took a while to get to the door, I’ve been doing some decorating recently.”
His nervous smile is what makes you find your voice. And you’re dubiously looking around the luxurious apartment, “You need to do some decorating?”
“Believe it or not, yes.” Choso huffs. “Would you like something to drink? Or maybe to eat? I checked out that bakery you recommended last time and you’re right- they have the best Danish pastries.”
“Actually, Choso…” You’re shaking your head, shooting him a grateful smile. “I’m good. I’d think I’d prefer to start right away, if that’s alright? I really wanna get to Act 2 today.”
“O-oh, of course—!”
And he’s sweetly guiding you inside, whilst you attempt not to look like you’re taking two steps at a time. Back to that familiar room. Back to that familiar desk. Back to that (somewhat) familiar bed which most certainly did not have an artwork from The Phantom of the Opera on it—
You open the door and the first thing you’re seeing is the familiar plane of that white mask. The Phantom.
Choso follows behind you and catches you staring at the poster. Gravelly tone echoing from behind, “I told you I did some decorating.”
And you jump-
Swivelling around to find him bearing you a sheepish smile, “Sorry if I startled you.” He pushes those chunky glasses up, “Tea?”
“S-sure…” You breathe, if anything for a thing to occupy your mouth with. Wait- not like that—!
And as Choso disappears down the hall, you’re taking a seat on the bed you’ve sat on countless, countless times before without a single care in the world. Now you’re sinking into the very - the very - edge as though it’d swallow you whole.
Body just resting on the plush comforter before-
“Hey, so I also have coffee if you would prefer?” Comes Choso’s sudden voice.
And you’re startling once more- “Just tea is fine, thanks.” Barely managing to get that through your lips, you’re watching as he disappears…as the sound of his footsteps echo…
Before darting off the bed and now heading towards the camera equipment you’d noticed in the corner the first time you’d been here. What you’d assumed to be part of another one of his classes or personal projects. Now, you’re leaning in and wondering with just which camera he showed his pretty cock off to millions, at just what height of his tripod he made your cunt so heated.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck this was real.
Now, you’re noticing things in the room that you’d never noticed before. Like the ring light kept underneath his bed, and the dresser in the corner with numerous rings- those weren’t costume props or anything. They were pure silver.
Heavy.
Heavy, like the pit in your stomach—excited and swirling. Just trembling at the tips of your fingers - ever-so-slightly - you’re reaching out as though to touch it, as though to feel the alternate version of Choso that you knew longer than you knew Choso-
“Ah, so you’ve realized.”
And then his voice permeates the room.
The room that suddenly seems smaller, the room that suddenly seems to rise ten degrees in temperature - though goosebumps skitter across your skin. And almost as though in a horror movie, you’re turning in slow motion to face the bespectacled man who was now holding up a tray of steaming hot tea.
He walks over soundlessly and sets it on the coffee table with a slight click! And besides that, Choso walks over to the dressing table and puts his silver rings on.
One by one.
His eyes hold court with yours through the mirror, “How long?” Voice a deep timbre.
You’re taking a step closer without even realizing, “Um…just last night. Just now- actually.”
He chuckles and you realize he’s asking how long you’ve known about Curse.
“I-I found you by chance. About a week ago, actually…” And then you say what’s been on your mind ever since you had, “Ever since you liked and unliked my repost.”
“Ah, a rookie mistake.” Choso comments. “I should have known better than to stalk using my public account.” And with all rings now put on and glinting in the lighting of his bedroom, Choso shuffles through his jewellery tray to pluck his earrings in and one eyebrow piercing. And then…one lip piercing—a lip ring that twinkles mischievously as he smiles.
He rises and you think you’ve never quite appreciated his built frame.
His deep eyes as they’re locking in on you. Echoing out, “Though…you really can’t say much- can you, Movie?”
And though you knew that he knew- you can’t stop the zaps of electricity running through your body.
Sputtering out, “Yeah-” Your fists clench and you’re looking up at the object of both your fantasies and your secret interest these past few days - melded into one. “Yeah, I really can’t. Choso you’re so…”
“Different?” He fixes his glasses, “Though I really am shy, I can’t deny that- especially around you. But it helps to be a little more antisocial when I’m around idiots.”
He leans in closer- so close that his scorchin’ hot breath wafts across your features. You have no idea how you’d diminished such a distance so soon…
“And if my memory serves me right-” Choso taps on the edge of his chin, in mocking thought. “-I seem to remember that Movie agreed to have a partner on my stream.” You shiver. And he looks at you adoringly, “So how about it? Wanna make a movie, baby?”
You step a little closer.
“Only if I get to match wardrobes.”
He chuckles and picks you up to spin you around-
And then it’s getting to work. And then it’s shuffling through his closet to find a mask that matches his own.
He stretches on the rubber a bit and brings it to you—“I bought this one when I first started, but it ended up being too tight- I think it’d be just the one for you.”
It was. It fit perfectly.
And then he paces around the room and starts to set up- before Choso’s gaze catches you hovering around the bed, and then he’s clicking his tongue and forgoing the tripods altogether. With just the professional lights and the high-quality camera, Choso places the camera on top of the coffee table. Facing the foot of the bed - everything and anything could be seen.
Just with a few clicks he’s started the stream.
And with just a little nudge he’s urging you to sit next to him.
“Hello, my little sluts—” Choso- or should you say Curse croons towards the camera. On one of his monitors you can see him being projected there - waving, in his knitted vest that clashed with his mask. You stand off awkwardly out of sight from the camera. He smiles. “As you can see, things are a little different today…”
@girrrrrrrrrrth: uuuuuu change of angle!! change of angle!!
@bewbsRlife: ARE WE GETTING A SURPRISEEEEEEE??
@likezmenpregnant: Pls be pregnant, Curse <3
“No- no, I’m not pregnant.” He laughs, “But I have been thinking about what we talked about last night.”
@bipplruletheworld: omg this can’t be…
“And guess what? I did what you guys told me about- and I talked to her.”
@bipplruletheworld: yessssssss
@yoyoyoureinmypuss: I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE^^
@bewbsRlife: WOOOOOO-
@daddytoeknee: Omg where’s Movie, Ik she’d love this- heh. Imagine this WAS Movie though…
“So, my little sluts…” Choso announces, “I’d like to introduce you all to my new partner—” And he’s reaching out and clasping your wrist, looking up to check for reassurance before continuing. Miming whispering to the camera, “And this is her first time on stream, so be nice…”
You’re sheepishly walking into their view.
Slightly bowing your intrusion into the stream, “Th-thanks for having me?”
“Isn’t she cuuuuute?” He asks the commenters, and there’s a flurry of agreements. You’re even spotting a few questions about your name n’ interests, even kinks, amongst those - all of which Choso waves off with a laugh. “Now now—we can have the Q&A later. For now, let’s get to the fun part…”
@Curse’swifey: FUCK THAT’S MY FAV PART-
@2coolforcond0ms(i’mavirgin): Movie you’re missing out on a historic moment uwu
And the fun part consisted of clamoring onto the bed as fast as lightning. Letting the mattress dip n’ creak its protests out as Choso sits on it with his back turned to the camera, then lovingly pats his manspread thighs as a signal for you to climb on. Meaty muscles. Thick enough for you to want to sink your teeth into- how could you never have noticed?
Perhaps because this was the polar opposite of how he acted when he was on campus - always keeping to himself, never taking up too much space. Now he was practically vacuuming it all up so you had nowhere else to sit.
And you were more than happy to climb onto Choso Kamo’s lap.
Sitting your ass down on his readily-awaiting seat. From under your skirt you feel something hot—and throbbing between his legs. Cylindrically shaped and curved to the left.
Just the slightest movement makes his rock-hard erection twitch underneath- and you’re whimpering at the lewd sensation. At the way he drips out a hefty dollop of precum that seeps through his trousers and sticks to the front of your panties, making you gasp—“Ch-Cho-”
“Shhhh.” Choso wraps a hand ‘round your throat and cuts you off.
And before you know it, he’s bouncing his knees to get you to slide your drippin’ pussy up and down his bulge. Up and down. Turning towards the camera, “Ya hear that?” Up and down. “My girl’s so needy- she’s already begging for it. But I dunno if she deserves it, huh?”
@bewbsRlife: I MEANNNN
@theh0rniestsoldier: i’m feeling mean today…
@daddytoeknee: Give her your mouth!!
“Mouth? I love that idea.” Choso titters.
And then he’s giving a teasing slap on the side of your ass cheeks—smack!
“Please-”
“Sit on my face now, baby.” He purrs, eyes flickerin’ with pure need underneath his mask. Then leaning in to whisper in a loooow tone for only you to hear. “You know Choso, but let’s see if you can handle Curse.”
Then he leans back on the bed - his head pointing in the direction of the camera.
And you’re shuffling up Choso’s toned, brick-hard body—straddling your knees upon either side of his head, veerin’ your hips right atop that pretty face. You’re sitting - right in front of the camera. Though nothing was revealed…yet.
And Choso’s digging his tongue up to you instantly- he isn’t even making it past the fabric of your panties. But that doesn’t stop him from lettin’ his tastebuds take a looooong, luxurious lick of your swollen pussy.
Right down your sopping wet slit.
Suddenly, the room echoes with one of his pornographic moans- the very same ones you’d listened to night after night through your laptop speakers. Now they’re even louder, and somehow even sexier, sending electricity shooting straight up, up, up from your core.
And even more treacherous was the way you’re feeling something cold…and metallic at the very middle of Choso’s tongue. Rock-hard. It takes whatever’s left of your rationality to realize that it’s a silvery tongue piercing smack-dab where his tastebuds kissed your pussy. Scraping alongside where you were most sensitive.
Instantly; your head tips back and saliva starts bubbling at the sides of your lips. “Fuh-fuck…” And before you know it—you’re starting to drag your throbbing pussy up n’ down his features.
Short, barely-there jerks of your shy, shy hips.
And Choso chuckles huskily to himself at the cute way you were yearnin’ for his mouth. But what you didn’t expect was for him to reach one ringed hand up and squeeze the left side of your hips.
Your only warning.
Before he’s suddenly tightening his hold on you and reaching one more hand up- snaking it beneath your skirt like some pervert. Choso edges towards your throbbing cunt and places one good slap—
It’s the resounding smack! of skin-on-skin that makes you halt more than anything.
Jaw-dropped. Thighs quivering. The white-hot pleasure runs through your spine and leaves you barely hearing his roughened words, a tone lower than you knew his voice to be- as though drunk on the delicious taste of your pussy already. “Greedy, greedy girl…” Choso tuts, “Don’t tell me you’re trying to enjoy yourself without letting our dear audience in on the fun?”
Oh, shit.
You’re letting your head snap to where the camera was positioned and blinking its one gluttonous eye. Comments flooding the screen of the monitor so fast that you couldn’t read them-
You’d completely forgotten about the stream for a second.
“I—oh, I um.”
Yet another harsh smack! “Forgot, huh?” Amusement seeps into Choso’s words, as though he’d already guessed the situation.
You admit, “M-maybe…”
“I’m afraid I can’t blame you, baby.” Smack! “Curse’s mouth is too good, huh?” He yammers on and on, his tongue nudging deeper, his rippling tastebuds skidding into every ridge- as if trying to fuck you through your damn panties. “This pussy’s too good–she’s purring f’me already. Hear her?”
And you’re not sure why- but you’re nodding to whatever he says. “Y-yes—fuck.”
“Mhm. So why don’t we let our lovely audience hear, too, huh?” You’re barely given the time to register his suggestion, before Choso husks out a command. “Lift your skirt up, baby.”
Your thighs squeeze around his head at the notion-
And your fingertips touch the short hemline of your skirt.
@Cursenoticeme44: Holy shit.
@theh0rniestsoldier: i’ve been waiting for thisssssssssss-
@daddytoeknee: WOW.
@girrrrrrrrrrth: bby’s so needy!!
@R€4leater: munch Curse #canon
The chat explodes as you let them bear witness to Choso’s face stuffed between your pretty legs- he’s redly-flushed and ravenous. They could see the slightest glimpse of his nose n’ the way he’s driving it between your sodden pussylips, diving and diving, they could see the glossy layers coating your cunt—and the way Choso’s pink lips come up to suck on it.
Those handsome cheeks of his hollow out, as he’s makin’ out with your pussy through your panties.
Like a man starved.
Long canines slightly nippin’ at your folds- almost wolfish in mannerisms.
“Oh p-please…” You’re quivering atop him. You don’t even know what you’re begging for—just that it feels so good to have him veering his tongue hungrily against your cunt like this. And you wanted more.
More, more, and more.
Choso’s holding onto your restless hips with a clammy hand- he’s stuck to you almost like adhesive. And he guides your hips - he fucking slows them down - whilst you continue moanin’ and shaking atop his raw mouth. Glistening wet tongue extending even more than its usual length to slide-slide-sliiiiide your panties to the side-
And you’re gasping at the sudden whiff of cold bedroom air against your naked pussy. “Ch-” A spank. “I mean- fuck, Curse?”
“Mhm, m’here, baby.” He drawls out. Slightly slurring with all the extra globs of your pussy juices - pooling straight into your mouth, n’ Choso reaches up and smooches your soft swollen folds to smear it all around. Like some gloss. “M’here aaaaaand- so are 820k sluts that wanna watch you break.”
“B-break?” You’re gaping, “I thought you were just gonna- ngh, eat me out…?”
“Baby, Curse never ‘just’ does anything.” And you’re shocked to find him sliding his tongue out, tipping his head back to refer to the camera on the coffee table. “Isn’t that right, fuckin’ pervs?”
@daddytoeknee: Hell yeah.
@0003h0lesforCurse: duhhhhhhhhh
@yoyoyoureinmypuss: YOU’RE THE BEST CURSE
@Fishygurodad: Fuck, her pussy’s divine.
“Heh…” Choso smiles into your cunt, “And so whaddaya say? How many slaps before I stick my tongue in her?”
@vampzo333: 3
@bbynohuuuuzz: 14
@Ilikepr1menumbers: 29
“Since m’feeling nice- read your favorite one out, baby.” He murmurs.
To which you’re unable to do anything but- you tilt your upper half just the slightest bit closer to the monitor and pick out the first one you can read through the blur of words and numbers:
@Fishygurodad: Until she cries.
Oh.
Your blood runs cold.
Your cunt grows heated.
And before you can either rectify your recitation or beg for mercy—Choso doesn’t hesitate before fixing the rings on his fingers to be slightly higher than before. Making sure they’re in line of him planting one- two- three good, loud spanks on your sobbin’ cunt. “O-oh my god- fuck, mmm, oh my god.”
Until the skin of his fingertips seems to redden, and your pussylips feel raw - “How about that?” He asks- not from you, but from the viewers.
@daddytoeknee: I don’t see her crying yet…also idkkkkk I’m getting Movie vibes.
@girrrrrrrrrrth: movie would’ve loved this-
And then it’s one after the other. Again and again, Choso’s emblazoning the rude outlines of his rings against yours - until you’ve fucking memorized the ridges n’ patterns of the one ring on his middle finger with the carving of an octopus.
Tentacles flared out.
“Shit, not that damn ring again.”
And as he’s doing so he can’t help himself- fuck, he can’t heeeeelp himself. His canines dig into the sticky fabric of your underwear like a damn dog - and throughout the duration of what his hands were doing, you’re hearing the sharp riiiiip of fabric tearing—!
Soon enough, your panties are tattered and ruined in Choso’s maw- just from his mouth. He spits it out and continues swerving his thickened tips inwards to give a loving pinch on your clit—and you can’t help but burst into peals of shrill, needy cries. Both pain and pleasure mixing as he doles out a final swat-
Before Choso swipes your pussylips apart and spits- the glutinous glob of his saliva landing directly on your hole. He doesn’t give it the time to seep back out—instead, he’s surging up and shoving his face between your legs.
This time, without the barrier of your panties in the way.
@CCpervnextdoor: HE FUCKING RIPPED IT OFF WITH HIS MOUTH??
@bewbsRlife: HOLY SHIT CURSE-
@Fishygurodad: Shiiiiit, I’d do the same ngl.
And then Choso’s shoving his tongue inside and slurpin’ all around your wet hole like a damn animal…
In and out.
In and out.
Probin’ into slippery sweet spots.
Chin hitting the back of your slit. Plastic mask rubbing against your clit.
Choso’s pierced tongue was going absolutely fucking wild inside of you. He wastes no time before gripping either side of your cute hips and slammin’ your pussy down onto his mouth- hard and fast. The perverted nerd is slashing his tongue inwards, smearin’ apart your glue-covered folds. As deep as he could go. He doesn’t care if it hurts, he just needs to make sure that loooong slick muscle of his tastebuds were scrapin’ every inch of your walls.
With the curved tip of it, he flexes it against a sweet bundle of nerves. Making you buck with a pitchy moan of his name—“Ch-Cuuuurse—!” And the sensation was made even more delicious with the way his orb tongue piercing presses in contrast against your hot cunt. “It feels so good, Curse.”
“I already know.” Choso pipes up- cocky in all the ways you never knew he could be. “I already know- but what about those fuckers watching, huh?”
“W-well…” Spit drivels down your chin, and you’re struggling to keep your eyes focused to read the urgent chat.
@bipplruletheworld: they’re so HOT!!
@NERDSAREMYBABYGIRLZ: OHHHH WHAT A MUNCH
@daddytoeknee: Me next <3
And it was clear that they were seeing the effect he had on you- how could they not?
Your eyes were dazed and teary, your thighs were shaking like leaves in the wind, Choso was making your body twitch—just from the way he’s reeling his entire tongue out. And breathing out steadily and slowly against your twitchin’ pussylips, freezing cold air that leaves you even wetter on top of him.
He’s unfastening his mouth - leaving it wiiiiide open for all the satiny ribbons of your slick to enter his gullet. And once you’re done- that isn’t enough riling you up.
Choso leaves a good slap on your folds and asks, “So…what about it?” Muffled through his mouthfuls.
“They agree- they agree—” You’re keening out. Star-struck, seeing pleasure burst behind your shuttered eyelids at the sudden stinging. “Fuck- you’re the hck! best I’ve ever had, Curse.”
“I agree.” He hums. And as if this entire ordeal wasn’t sinful enough, Choso’s swashing around the silky-smooth sap he’d collected from your leaking pussy. Letting the flavor seep into his tastebuds, before he’s then spitting again on your pussy. A semi-opaque layer of lewdness that coats your inner thighs in a sheen that catches the lighting.
Perfect on camera.
You’re squeezing your wettened thighs together and creating an audible squelch!
“Awwww, look- this pussy agrees, too.”
The gooey addition startles you- and you rut.
Only straight down onto his awaiting fingers.
@girrrrrrrrrrth: oh, shit is he…
@legsopenforcurses: With the rings on, too!!
@likezmenpregnant: My show is onnnnn
It’s such a fucking mess for him to navigate- even with his own fingers. Soon enough, you’re arching your back as you feel him intrude a single ringed digit between those utterly swollen pussylips of yours—almost difficult to find your snug hole between them. You’re damn lucky that Choso’s fingers were slender as well as incredibly lengthy.
Because he’s circlin’ your tight orifice a few times - only a few times - before inserting the sections of his finger. Quirking just right and hitting the exact bundle of your nerves.
That infamous g-spot that made you yelp once he starts and keeps on hitting.
And his rings- oh, fuck, his rings.
Just so chunky and textured. They were the perfect designs to press up against your walls and massage them stupid- every drag meant that you’re feeling them dig into ridges n’ crevices you hadn’t even known existed.
Hitting and hitting. Curling his dexterous finger and scraping- “Fuuuuck, oh my god.” The doughy tip of his finger soon becomes damn-near molded to the area where it was, and your eyes flicker to the back of your head as you continue anglin’ your hips so he could hit it perfectly. “Right there, Curse- r-right there.”
“I know.” Choso rolls his eyes - at least what seems like it underneath his mask. “That’s why I’m hitting it. Honestly…is my girl dickmatized?” He utters as he sucks on your clit—ultimately erupting a sobbing slurp! that makes him nod. “Mhm, I think my girl’s dickmatized.”
Tipping his head back before you can refute his claims. He then addresses the audience-
“Whaddaya think, my little pervs? Dickmatized already…maybe I should go easy on her, huh?”
@olderandR4w: nooooooooooo
@yoyoyoureinmypuss: NEVER.
@Fishygurodad: Go even harder.
“Tough crowd.” And with that said, Choso’s stuffin’ in just a few more fingers. Each with their own numerous rings and sopping wet sounds accompanying them—slurp!
One.
Two.
You’re counting about three of his prolonged digits pushin’ your tight walls to their limits, rubbing your sweet spots raw with his constant bashing rhythm, before lustful fogginess coils around your brain. And it’s around here that Choso catches onto the glazed look in your eyes and chuckles—
“Ohhhh, you really are dickmatized.” He hums to himself, though you’re sure the professional mic picks it up either way. “And so soon, too. Probably hasn’t had a good finger-”
A fourth being added so that he can scissor apart your velvety channel whilst still multi-tasking with his other fingers to ram into your g-spot.
“-or even a good mouth on ‘er…” To emphasize his point, he presses a dramatically loud kiss upon your clit. One that’s making you bounce n’ bounce your hips atop his clammy face, and grind your throbbing nub down on his pointed nose. The addition of his mask just makes that cool touch even more lecherous. “My poor girl.” Choso still mutters out despite the way he’s gluing your cunt to his mouth. He pulls away from your clit with a loud pop! “What do you think, my slutty audience?”
At the slurring question you’re letting your head down to watch him. “Ch…Curse, what’ve you got on your mind-”
“M’just asking what else you deserve, baby.” He coos. And questions them once more, “How about a little quiz? Which parts of Curse are going to make my poor, poor girl feel the best? A). My fingers. B). My mouth. Or…”
And he pretends to listen to your noisy wet pussy once more.
“Or C…” You could practically feel the grin plastering against your needy pussy. The way his eyes narrow in sinful amusement beneath his mask- you didn’t have to see his full face to know that Choso was enjoying this perhaps way more than he should. “—all of the above.”
And it was futile to think that they would answer anything else.
C floods your vision.
You’re letting your mouth droop, and your gaze meet Choso’s own between your legs- but you’re finding that you don’t have to say a thing for him to already know the answer.
And as expected, he gives a final roll of his tongue atop your clit - before munchin’ on your aching cunt once more. This time, he’s tunneling his fingers deep into your cavern whilst still licking inside with his prolonged tongue—when stretched out, Choso’s tongue could reach almost as deep as his fingers could.
Your cunt was being stretched-out to lengths you never thought about before.
Not only were Choso’s fingers thicker than yours, but his tongue was something ravenous- no matter how much you’re flinching in sensitivity, he isn’t slowing down. “Mmm-” He groans, barely breathing through even his flared nostrils. You’re hit with the distinct feeling that he thinks he doesn’t even have to breathe as long as he had you on him like this - “Mmm, hold still.”
Taking advantage of the fact to lavish your sensitive inches with kiss upon kiss. To grind his nose down purposefully on your clit. To glide his metallic piercing across those hidden spots. To bash your poor g-spot in again and agaaaain with his fingers before his tongue’s coming to the rescue to soothe the slightly raw sting-
So it’s not long before you’re throwing your head back and cumming.
Perhaps the strongest you’ve ever felt when you’re in the throes of your high.
You barter your hips forwards and keep up a steady pace - one that’s making Choso hit the exact spots you wanted him to during the peaks of your high. The utmost peaks. “Shit—shit, just like that.” Breathless. “K-keep going, baby, it feels so good.”
And he doesn’t even answer - too caught up in fucking you through your orgasm.
In the way you shudder above him. In the way you’re only getting even sweeter by the second-
Bodyheat raising a few degrees in temperature; your heart sings and the bed creaks with how much you’re jostling from above. This was even better than touching yourself to videos of him, there were so many thrills of bliss that he’s wringing out of you- like he’d wring out of himself during his solo videos.
With both his fingers and his tongue, slurpin’ and sliding. Those doe-like eyes of his are edging straight to the back of his skull as he feels your drenched walls cleeeeench around his pierced tongue, as though it’s the best thing he’s ever fucking felt. And you’re acting on impulse - you really are - because the coffee table was positioned right beside the foot of the bed.
And all you had to do was reach your arm out to grab the simple camera there. Turning it into your point of view as Choso’s sweaty brown bangs stick to his forehead, as sweat trickles down his temple, as he lets out soft yet unyielding moans whenever you’re squeezing your thighs around his head.
@cockycockowner: no homo but that’s the most beautiful man i’ve ever seen.
@theh0rniestsoldier: woah he’s PUSSYDRUNK
@Fishygurodad: Show me his POV.
@daddytoeknee: Don’t you know that she’s his girl now smh?^^
@daddytoeknee: Movie-core- wya ml??
Choso cocks his head and keeps making out with your pussy in all the ways that make your toes curl—pleasure elongating from your orgasm and spreading into every part of you. Your vessels, your cells, your atoms.
They’re all buzzing with pleasure and still aching for more once Choso finally pulls away with a loud pop! of his lips releasing.
When they do, you’re sneaking a look down at him and noticing just how red n’ swollen they were. Even the skin around his jaw was flushed with the constant ramming contact. And the viewers are just gobbling it up - subscribing bells keep dinging here and there, and everywhere.
Just a single look at his stats on-screen reveal that Choso’s climbed up to 870k just since you’d started this stream.
And it’s after a little while - after he’s had his fill - that the dark-haired man finally taps at the side of your thigh to gesture for you to get up. Though, even then, he’s tightening his grip on your body—going against his own fucking instruction to press a final few open-mouthed kisses before he’s done.
He chases after your pussy with his maw for a little- before he’s finally sitting up.
And it’s only then that he seems to notice the camera in your hand, blinking his glazed eyes a few times to make sure he isn’t dreaming things up. Once it finally registers, the most attractive grin spreads across his face. “You changed POVs?”
“Had to.” You admit, “I wanted them to see how pretty you are…”
“Guess you finally learned about sharing, hm? Greedy girl.” He chuckles darkly to himself. And then he starts looming closer, “But you realize that the show’s not done yet, right?”
You gulp.
@Fishygurodad: Fuck her already, damn!! I’m only here for her.
@2coolforcond0ms(i’mavirgin): Hate to admit it, but he’s lowk right. I think I’ve discovered I’m bi…
@vampzo333: ^^
@girrrrrrrrrrth: ^^
“So impatient.” He looks at the monitor, reading the chat and tuts. “Honestly- so ungrateful. I should end the stream right here and fuck her on my own terms.”
There’s a frenzied flurry of comments- all of which you were sure were begging for Choso not to stop and bashing that one commenter for attempting to start a revolution. To which you’re only giggling and handing over the camera to him.
Choso - as the expert - then positions it somewhere by the edge of the fluffy pillows: where they’d be able to see the expanse of both your bodies and where you’d soon be connected…
And then you’re shedding your clothes in a hurry- making it to your smart blouse before he’s reaching a hand up and tearing through it. The buttons hit the floor, and at your noise of displeasure Choso merely lets out a half-delirious giggle.
He leans in and whispers, “I-I have a Phantom of the Opera t-shirt I’d love for you to wear.”
The change in demeanour gives you utter whiplash, and you can’t help but stare at him open-mouthed.
“What?” Choso asks, next moving on to shrugging off his own fabrics. They’re landing on a heap beside the bed, and your lips slightly part at the display of his red-hot erection—it’s just as large and sensual as all those streams had proven him to be. Polished strawberry top. Slender veins along the middle.
A happy trail of dark brown - nearly black - glistened with the splattered remnant of his precum. Just like the gleaming mess across his chin, mouth, and cheekbones that Choso wore like a medal.
He was slightly longer than even on camera- and even prettier up-close. Way up close- he shuffles his body up yours n’ fucks your tits a few times to dollop out glistening translucent precum across yours tits.
“Lighting’s not the best here.” Choso explains- or at least attempts to pin an explanation onto that. Onto something he’s clearly been wanting to do for so long. “Had to highlight ‘em, baby.”
You scoff, “It’s just…” Throwing a cautious glance at the camera, you lower your voice. “You’re so different from how you are in real life.”
“Oh? And how did you expect me to be, huh?” He positions himself between your legs - wrapping both of them around his waist. Before then thinking better of it and throwing them even more lewdly around his neck instead—his plush priggish tip kisses your entrance. “Did you expect me to be like…”
He trails off.
He doesn’t need to complete the rest of his sentence- and you don’t think you’d have heard him even if he tried.
Because in that very moment, Choso’s jerking his pale hips back a mere few inches—then plopping his globular tip between your pussylips and push-push-puuuuuushing. Fucking past the initial restraint of your first ring of muscle, he’s funneling in some thick inches that make your heels bang against the muscles of his back.
And he doesn’t even seem to notice.
He doesn’t even seem to breathe as he’s letting his cock swerve inside. Get suctioned inside. Get his Prince Albert’s piercing crept down your sensitive innards. Get gobbled up between your greedy legs-
You clench ‘round him and Choso throws his head back with a low, broken moan.
“Oh p-please—” He’s babbling out through unsteady pink lips, a lazy line of dribble starting up from one corner of his mouth. Those long lashes of his flutter as he’s reaching one bulky hand up to grip the headboard, and placing his right one on your hips- keeping you steady.
Fingers trembling. Muscles rippling.
@likezmenpregnant: Woah…make him do that again…
@sixeyesorsixh0les: SUBBY CURSE HELLO??
@whimperwhiteboywhimper: oh I am SO here for this
@Fishygurodad: Whatever…
Your eyes bulge once his throat cracks with what sounds like a whimper—“Please it feels so good.” And though you couldn’t quite make it out, even the chat seemed stunned as Choso punctures out a broken stutter of his hips. Delving a few inches into your goopy insides- though not enough to bottom out completely, as you’re still too wound-up for him to fit completely. And you’re able to pinpoint exactly where he’s using the orbed metal of his first piering. With more to come…“Ngh- oh.” Broken noises emanating into your eardrums and the mic. “It f-feels shooooo good, baby.”
Choso’s head drops into the crook of your neck, and there - and there - you’re feeling his cheeky grin.
And suddenly you’re understanding.
Oh—he was toying with you.
And he was doing it in a way that’d completely fooled you- and perhaps all of his viewers, too.
But before you’re able to open your mouth to bite back something at him, Choso staggers his hips back and gives you a vicious jackhammer with his cock, “O-ohhhhh, my god—” Your toes curl atop his shoulders, slippery with sweat. He hadn’t even rammed all the way inside yet, and yet the slightly left-leaning angle of his shaft was driving you wild.
Big and thick.
Running the slick globe of his tip down your walls, Choso probes a direct hit to that spot you loved so much. And he knew you loved it so much—he’d mapped out your entire pussy earlier, of course.
And yet, he’s still gasping as though the pearls gates of heaven had descended right here and there. He’s letting his sweet caramel eyes widen convincingly as he peers down at you, “I-is that…the spot, baby?”
@Curse’swifey: HE sounds SO NGH.
@daddytoeknee: Daddy likey…
@daddytoeknee: Also Movie would’ve really LOVED this, huh?
You hiss, “Curse, you should already know-”
“But how could I know—?” He exclaims. “This is my first time, after all…” Then Choso’s plastering his clammy tattooed hips - with a snake on the side - to yours, as though the two were connected by the force of the world’s strongest magnets: pulling and pushing, pulling and pushing. Every single battering ram of his mazing cocktip ends up lodged against your sweetly bruised g-spot, marking his circumference out with the sheer pace at which he was hitting it.
“Shit—” Your nails clench on the sheets, and feeling jealous- Choso guides them to fist his hair instead. “Shit, right there. It f-feels so good-”
“There?” The once-nerdy man breathes out in awe. Disbelief every single time - or at least the mocking imitation of one. Swipin’ a line of precum down your nervy spot once more, “Th-there, baby—?”
Something breathy- octaves higher in his tone. “Yes- yes there-”
“There-” Choked up and ruined. Husky grunts hatching in the back of his throat. There was something there in his words that you couldn’t quite pinpoint—a sort of undertone of primal need, primal amusement as he ruined your pussy with his speedily pap-papping hips, but acted as though he had no idea what he was doing. Every single syllable uttered was met with a thorough whack of his curved cockhead against your particular spot- “There there there there- there-”
“Fuh-fuuuck-”
“So this g-spot’s really m-mine now, baby?” Choso asks.
You whine, back arching off the mattress. “Yes-”
“Does she really have my mark on it now?”
“Yes…?” Eyes shooting open as you’re half-registering his question in your hazed brain. He bores his dark eyes down at you intensely. And as though to emphasize his point, you’re feeling his perfectly round tip squeezing into your throat by the next few thrusts. Deeper and deeper.
His Jacob’s Ladder starting to ease its frigid way past your entrance and glide across the roof of your cunt. It was a sensation like nothing you’ve ever felt before.
Choso probes even more, “I-is she really shaped to the shape of my cock now?”
“Cho—ngh.” Quickly shutting your cockdrunken self up. Quickly reaching a ringed hand up to squeeze your throat- before he’s languidly snaking his way up to squeezing your pretty cheeks together.
Smushing your face in a way that was almost disrespectful- though, not that you were in any state of mind to call him out on it. And there’s a mean inkling in Choso’s tone as he coos, “Awww, b-baby, why aren’t you answering me?” Another rude slap! of his hips make your own sear in flames- that damn strength of his. Those damn piercings of his. “Is your poor, poor Curse not good enough?”
Before you can answer, he’s looking at the blinking camera.
“My babies, my girl doesn’t love my cock anymore…”
“I do—I do-”
Squeezing his doughy-soft restraints - those contrastingly mean fingers of his - around your cheeks. He’s managing to smush your mouth shut and make you echo out the most pathetically pleading whines—as he fucks you. Determined and targeted.
The glossy rotund edge of his tip presses against your g-spot a few more times before you’re managing to make yourself take a peek at the comments on the monitor.
Almost too far away- almost too blurry with the tears in your eyes.
@Curse’snewestharem: Awwwww poor bby </33
@CCpervnextdoor: I would LOVE your cock, Curse!!
@girrrrrrrrrrth: is it just me or is he teasing us?
@Fishygurodad: ^^Yeah, he’s totally a fraud.
@Curseswombmommy: ^^girl shut up
“Th-they really think you’re oh-so-innocent…” You’re whispering up at him. Overstimulated tears in your eyes.
Breath hitching every time he’s surging his tattooed hips forwards and hitting that one spot particularly hard. Though there was never such a thing as too hard…
And Choso’s shooting you a secret smile - one just between the two of you - before morphing his expression into that of picture-perfect innocence. Roleplaying the demeanor of his nerdy self on campus, mixed with the utterly sultry—sexual way he was draaaaagging his lengthy cock in and out of your cunt.
Eventually, Choso’s emptying his inches out n’ bruising the bottom of your pussy. All of his nine - you seriously felt nine throbbing inches - inches shaping out the in-betweens of your legs. All of the beaded barbells of his Jacob’s Ladder massaging inside- the slitherin’ feeling of them making themselves at home. Zig-zagging and slithering.
He feels the sponginess of your cervix and presses a hand down on your abdomen just to make sure, before changing that excitement into one of almost-genuine bafflement- “I-I really bottomed out?” Choso’s pinkish bottom lip juts out and quivers dramatically.
“Of course, you did.” You’re ready to scoff-
But whatever sarcastic sound was in the back of your throat gets quickly dissolved at the sight of Choso with genuine tears in his eyes. Glistening. “But I never- ngh, never thought I’d be able to.” He puts some more merciless pressure on your stomach that makes you buck—
And the only thing you can do is let your head tip back into the pillows.
The only thing you can do is let out a few mottled moans as he rubs over the small tummy bulge he was fucking into you. Pushing his palm down so that he could feel it.
Whispering out, “I-I never thought this pussy would claim my cock as- ngh, hers, hm?” And for the moment there, you’re completely sure that he isn’t talking to you. Rather, your pussy that was sobbing out squelches after every one of his jackhemmerin’ thrusts. “And it’s not too big, right?”
“N-never—”
“Because m’just a nerd with a- hngh, biiiiiig fuckin’ cock.” How pitiful, right? He’s letting his long, dark lashes flutter as Choso avoids meeting your eyes—as though in shyness. He drills his hips even deeper - one unforgettable strike after the other following every word he spoke. “Just a big- fat- fucking- cock-”
“Please—!” Eventually, your arms reach upwards and you’re grabbing ahold of whatever part of him it is you could reach first. Which just-so-happened to be his bulky deltoids.
Choso’s brows genuinely seem to furrow at the lewdness of you digging your nails into his muscles, leaving your marks for everyone and anyone to see even after this stream has ended. And so he continues in his faux-innocent tone, “Oh? Did that feel good, baby?”
Purposefully slidin’ his cock across your g-spot so that you’d have to cry out. “Y-yeeees—”
“I didn’t even know, baby.” His mouth hangs open, and the most lustrous squelches! echo between your two connected bodies. Your cunt n’ his precum were making such messes…“I had no idea…”
His Jacob’s Ladder leaves your channel feeling raw n’ overstimulated- you feel raw and overstimulated.
And you’re laid-out on the bed dazed and feeling so fucking good as Choso’s picking his pace up even more, you notice for a split-second that his hands have moved. No longer was he holding onto your cheeks n’ watching you squirm—now, the nerdy man hooks both hands around your sweaty thighs and pins them close to his body.
Holding them in place as he leans down, down, dooooooown until the caps of your knees hit your tits.
You’re keening at the stretch, and a searing burn spreads from between your pussy and along your hamstrings. How did he even hide such strength underneath those soft knitted vest? Such a body?
Before you know it, you’re being pressed into your first-ever mating press.
And Choso gapes as though he was just as bewildered as you, “O-oh…did I do that?” He’s fucking asking you—however, when your stunned expression bears no answer, he turns and asks the same question from the camera. The bursts of replies obviously agree n’ tease him. And he’s shaking his head ever-so-slightly, “Did I really bend you in- heh-” A slight chuckle escapes him. “—half, baby?”
And what else can you do but nod and nod and nod—?
“I think this is called a…breeding press?” He cocks his head ever-so-slightly, before shaking his head. “No wait- a mating press.”
“A m-mating press.” You’re repeating lamely.
“I c-can’t believe I’ve folded you into a mating press, baby.” Choso nearly snarls at himself, his hips accelerating until that rouge-tipped cock of his was almost nothing but a blur. “Can’t believe—s’like my body is moving before my mind, ngh. My fat cock’s not hittin’ you too deep, right, my girl?”
“Not in the l-least…”
And he really was long enough to make each and every probe feel as though it was slam-slam-slamming into your throat- the capped crown of his shaft was entering crevices n’ crannies you hadn’t even known you possessed. All marked out precisely by the silvery orb of his Prince Albert’s.
Just then, after your answer, Choso reaches his left hand up to wrap ‘round your throat - and then hauls you back down to meet his slapping hips.
A thrust even harder than the ones before it.
Your breath gets snatched out of your lungs, dissipating into the heady air filled with the contact-riddled sounds of sex. Hard and fast. Only getting harder the longer you have your ankles looped ‘round his neck—“Not too hard, is it, baby?” Chosos asks you once more.
And you don’t have anything to spit out besides, “Oh f-fuck off.”
He gasps dramatically-
Well, not exactly dramatically. But in a way you knew was fake, and in a way that sends the chat exploding into comments.
The nerd pouts cutely, “Well, that’s not very nice…”
You’re rolling your eyes—right before Choso’s genuinely sending them rolling with his two fingers clamped around your clit. Using the silvery edges of his rings, he runs a few massages that end up with you sobbing and blabbering out your pleasure.
@Curse’swifey: FUCKKKKKKKKKK they’re both so hot. THEY’RE BOTH SO RUINED.
@peepeesarebetterfictional: they both look like they’re gonna cum soon hehe
@bewbsRlife: CUM CUM CUM CUM CUM
Biting back. “I would argue th-that that’s not very nice, either.”
“But m’just trying to make my gorgeous girl cum…” And from where he’d been looming his pretty face above yours, Choso then lets his head droop down between your tits. During his ravenous pace, he’s roverin’ his mouth all over to kiss and suck at your tits, your nipples.
His cold lip ring drags across your left areola- and he catches onto the way you’re shivering. Before Choso then grabs your nipple between his lips n’ hollows his cheeks out sucking—“Promise m’just trying to make you feel- hah, good.” He mutters, slightly muffled. “Promise I just wanna fuck my cock raw if it means making my lifelong crush feel good…”
“Cho- Curse, are you…?” Your eyes widen.
And his own flap droopily a few times, “Hmmm?”
And that proved it.
That proved it.
Because Choso Kamo could be pretending to be a stuttering, panting, blushing mess on your heavenly cunt all he wanted- he could pretend to be pussydrunk out of his mind. But at the end of the day, it was impossible to hide when pretend turned into something…more.
When the cocksure streamer that’d been driving you wild all this time morphs into the contentedly pussy-whipped nerd you expected him to be deep down inside.
His eyes genuinely glazed and blinking longingly.
His hair drenched in sweat.
His skin flushed with need- and only flushing even more fiercely the longer he kept his eyes on you.
Without much ado, you’re throwing your hands around his neck and tuggin’ him as far as he could crane his neck when his entire body feels like collapsing onto you and into your maddening pussy.
Choso pistons his hips slightly upwards to hear the slurp of his Jacob’s Ladder sliding across your walls, and he grooooans—
“Curse, baby…” You hum.
“Mhmmmm?” He replies with half-lidded eyes. Barely focused.
This was the big, bad #1 streamer on C4mBoyfriends? As though sensing your thoughts, Choso’s fingers grow a little more frenzied on your clit. “I need you to cum inside, okay?”
He jolts at the idea- that sinful, sinful idea. Before chuckling, “Never had any other plan, baby.” And then he turns to the camera, “What do you think, fuckers? Think my girl deserves to cum?”
@Fishygurodad: Yes.
@Curse’swifey: YES.
@likezmenpregnant: Yesssss~
@girrrrrrrrrrth: yesyesyes.
@daddytoeknee: Hell yeah-
He’s holding out a little longer to make sure there wasn’t a single ‘no’ in there - and had there been one, you’re sure that Choso would have stopped and edged your incoming orgasm until it was a wave of complete agreement.
Luckily for you, they liked you.
And all he does now is press down harder on your g-spot from inside, lingering, and massage a pretty heart on your clit once more, lingering—before a final, thorough stroke is all it takes for you to hurtle into your second high of the night.
For you to arch your body into his chest, and shutter your eyes. “Ch-Cho…”
Barely a whisper. He’s crashing his mouth into yours to make sure that secret between you two isn’t revealed. And you’re moaning deeply into Choso’s mouth as you cum—“Feels so- oh. It feels so…”
“Mhmmmm.”
Unable to even find the words.
The only thing you can do is riiiiiide out the massive wave of your high. It’s torrential; pure bliss floods your system from head-to-toe, and no matter how much you’re squirming your overstimulated hips, Choso only succeeds in batterin’ away his pierced cock into eeeevery single hidden sweet spot inside of you. The ones that prolonged your bliss and left spikes of euphoria leading up to your brain.
Your cunt clenched so tightly around his cock- almost as though you didn’t want him to even pull out. And Choso’s sweaty head drops once more into the crook of your neck as he cums with a shudder.
The knot between his brows deepening, the bedsheet around his knees bunching up as he surges his body upwards. Almost animalistically.
Choso bottoms out his furious, twitching cock and keeps it there- “Oh, fuck…” It didn’t sound like he was acting once his bawling red divot starts splatterin’ out more milky white wads. Deeep in the back of your pussy, right where your womb was, Choso puddles out his ecstasy in long ribbons. “Oh fuck fuck fuck—fuck. Always knew it’d feel this good.”
Wave upon wave.
Toes curling. Eyes scrunching shut.
If you thought his moans were sensual before, then you weren’t prepared for the ones your pussy was able to drag out of him - ragged and hollow utterances of your name. Over and over like a broken record, like a mantra.
He’s fucking into you to milk them out of his hefty balls- then fucking you again just to pump those webbed wads right back in. From the top of his rotund tip and dooooooown to the tufts of hairs at his base. All nine inches of him being used to stuff you till the brim—
You’re sure your insides look like an utter fuckin’ mess by the time he’s slowing his tattooed hips down ever-so-slightly—still shaking from the aftermath of his orgasm. This was far stronger than anything he’s ever experienced before.
Drunkenly, you’re blinking your eyes up at him. “Always?”
He smiles, “Ever since our first lesson of Film 101.” Admitting, he lovingly wipes off a bit of his cum you were foaming between your pussylips. “You referenced Pride and Prejudice when talking about the best lines of dialogue of all time, and I-I’d been a goner since then.”
“Corny…” You snort. Though you can’t help the flutter of your heart.
“So um- coffee after this?”
“It better be dinner.”
He laughs in agreement. “Also I bought a vibrating piercing the other day and have been dying to try it…”
Your eyes widen.
And once you’re helping him pull out- Choso reaches for the camera and gets a good shot of the cum leaking between your legs. Before you’re both waving at it, “Thank you for joining us, today—this was the most fun I’ve had on stream yet- heh.”
You’re shooting the camera a pretty smile, too.
And Choso kisses the corner of your cheeks, “Until next time. This has been Curse and Movie.”
@girrrrrrrrrrth: holy fuck??
@Curse’swifey: WAIT WHAAAAAAAAAAAAT NO WAY-
@bewbsRlife: HOLD ON-
@CCpervnextdoor: SAY SIKE RN?
@bipplruletheworld: oh my god that’s amazing.
@likezmenpregnant: Oh, a love story for the ages~
@yoyoyoureinmypuss: YOU TWO LOOKING FOR A THIRD??
@Fishygurodad: Damn.
@Fishygurodad: Hmu when he messes up.
@daddytoeknee: Stfu he won’t.
@daddytoeknee: Also I totally called it <3
A/N. I did NOT plan to have me inserted and beefing with Toji Fushiguro but here we are-
Hcs of Tokyo Rev men making you squirt for the first time, their own reactions—mocking, praising, shocked, greedy, etc. Featuring: Manjiro “Mikey” Sano, Ken “Draken” Ryūguji, Ran Haitani, Shuji Hanma, Kazutora Hanemiya, Chifuyu Matsuno, Rindou Haitani, Takashi Mitsuya. ¡2017!
̮͡. 18+ 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝑫𝒐 𝑵𝒐𝒕 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕 ̮͡.
Manjiro “Mikey” Sano
Mikey’s perched between your thighs, lazy grin sharpened by hunger. He’s smaller-framed but thick where it counts, cock splitting you open while his thumbs pin your hips down. You’re gasping, shaking, babbling that it feels too much—then it hits. Heat, wet, sudden gush soaking his lap. He freezes, then laughs low, delighted. “The fuck was that? You just—damn.” He rocks in slow, fingers spreading your folds, fascinated by the slick flooding his thighs. You cover your face, embarrassed, but he pulls your hands away, forces you to look at him. “Don’t hide. That was mine. My pussy made a mess for me.” His thrusts pick up, sharp, determined. “Do it again, baby. Wanna watch you soak me.” He doesn’t stop until you’re trembling, squirting twice more, his dick and belly dripping.
̮͡.
Ken "Draken" Ryūguji
Draken’s big everywhere—shoulders, hands, cock. You’re on his lap, thighs spread wide, impaled full by him. The stretch alone has you whining, clinging to his inked chest. He keeps bouncing you, massive palms lifting and dropping you like you weigh nothing. “C’mon, sweetheart. Take it for me.” When you suddenly gush, soaking his abs, his eyes go wide. Then his grin splits, teeth sharp with pride. “Fuck, you squirted? For me? Look at that.” He keeps you bouncing, greedy now, voice rough in your ear. “Thought you said you couldn’t. Thought you said it was impossible. I’ll keep pushin’ til you flood me again.” His dick drags deeper, harder, your slick dripping down his thighs. He groans, possessive, chest heaving. “Mine. My girl, my mess. Gonna make you do it over and over.”
#need that
̮͡.
Ran Haitani
Ran’s lounging back, hair falling loose, one knee hooked over your shoulder while his dick grinds deep from below. His pace is slow, cruel, teasing you with the stretch. You’re begging, trembling, and then it happens—you gush over him, thighs shaking. He stills, smirking like a devil. “Ohhh, look at that. Didn’t know you had that in you, princess.” He rubs his thumb over your swollen clit, coaxing another spurt while you cry that it’s too much. “Nah, baby, this is perfect.” He laughs softly, eyes dark with mockery. “You makin’ a puddle for me. Pretty little thing, all wet and ruined.” He slides back in, hips rolling lazy. “I’m not stoppin’ ‘til this bed’s soaked.”
̮͡.
Shuji Hanma
Hanma lives for chaos—so when your body jerks and you spray across his stomach mid-thrust, he howls with laughter. “Holy fuck, baby girl—look at you! Didn’t know you had a sprinkler system.” He pins your wrists, hips slamming hard, chasing it again. You whimper that you can’t, but he only grins sharper, tattoos flexing as he drives deeper. “Oh, you can. You will. I’ll beat it out of you if I gotta.” He taunts you with every gush, tilting your hips to angle his dick just right. The bed’s soaked, your thighs sticky, and he’s relentless, eyes glittering with obsession. “Yeah, that’s it. Squirt for me. Again. Again.” He doesn’t stop ‘til you’re sobbing, drenched, chest heaving. Then he paints your face with his cum, laughing breathless. “My dirty little fountain.”
̮͡.
Kazutora Hanemiya
Kazutora’s wild-eyed when it happens—your pussy fluttering around him, wet spraying down his thighs. He gasps, then lets out a shaky laugh, manic with glee. “You just—fuck—you just squirted for me?” His pace turns frantic, bruising, hands locking around your waist to keep you still. “Do it again. Do it again or I’ll lose my mind.” He kisses your jaw, your throat, tender even as he ruts harder. “You’re so fucking perfect, baby. So good for me.” You’re crying from the overstimulation, but he won’t stop—obsession driving him. “I’ll keep you here all night ‘til you’re soaked through. Don’t care if you scream. Don’t care if you beg.” His teeth sink into your shoulder, marking you as his while he groans against your skin.
̮͡.
Chifuyu Matsuno
Chifuyu looks stunned when your slick gushes down his dick, his thrust faltering. He pulls back to stare, chest heaving. “Did you—shit, you did.” Then his face lights up, awe softening his sharp features. “God, baby, you’re amazing.” He cups your face, kissing you sloppy while his hips keep moving. “So beautiful when you lose it for me.” His praise makes your body quake, another gush spilling between you. He groans, forehead pressed to yours. “That’s it. Don’t hold back. I’ll take it all.” His rhythm is steady, loving but relentless, fucking you through the overstimulation with devotion. “I’ll make you do it again. Every night. Until this pussy knows it belongs to me.”
̮͡.
Rindou Haitani
Rindou’s meaner, sharper. When you gush over his cock, he freezes, then barks a cruel laugh. “The fuck? Did you just piss on me, girl?” You cry, embarrassed, but he tilts your chin up, forces you to see his grin. “Relax. I like it. Means I fucked you stupid.” He pulls out, slaps his dick against your clit until another gush sprays out, making you squeal. “Ohhh, she’s messy now. My nasty little thing.” He pushes back in, fucking rough, keeping you squirming. “Don’t ever hide that. I want it all. Gonna milk it out of you every time I spread these thighs.” When he finally pulls out to cum, he paints your tits, groaning, smearing it in with his hand. “Look at you. Ruined and mine.”
̮͡.
Takashi Mitsuya
Mitsuya’s eyes go wide, soft shock flickering when you gush on his cock mid-thrust. “...Baby,” he whispers, slowing to steady you. You’re panting, embarrassed, but he strokes your hip, grounding. “Don’t you dare hide from me. That was gorgeous.” Then his pace builds again, strong and rhythmic, every stroke angled to drag it out. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll always take care of you.” His voice is tender, but his thrusts keep you trembling, squirting again against his stomach. He kisses your neck, your shoulder, murmuring praise with every gush. “So good. So wet. All mine.” By the end, the sheets are soaked, your body limp in his arms. He kisses your temple, cock still buried deep. “We’re doing that again tomorrow.”
ᯓᡣ𐭩 My strategy, strategy will get ya, get ya, baby!
.𖥔sypnosis: In which—ever since childhood, you’ve been determined to make Katsuki Bakugo marry you.
.𖥔part two! part one.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖
.
.
Forward to middle school, Katsuki was walking to school when fast footsteps track behind him.
Katsuki doesn’t even need to turn around to know exactly who’s barreling toward him—his instincts have been honed by years of you ambushing him. He grits his teeth, shoulders tensing, before suddenly sidestepping just in time— letting you stumble past him with an undignified yelp.
”Tch. Like hell I’m letting you tackle me again, woman.” He snarks, already marching ahead—though there’s the faintest twitch at the corner of his lips.
Damn brat never learns.
“Oof!” you let out as you stumble on the floor before pouting and looking up. “That’s not a very nice thing to do to your wife!”
Katsuki gives you a flat look as you pout dramatically from the ground. He looks absolutely unrepentant at the way he let you trip over thin air—if anything, his expression suggests that it was your fault instead.
”Maybe, if you don’t charge at me like a damn missile every time you see me, that wouldn’t happen, idiot.” He retorts with a huff, hands shoved in his pockets as he waits for you to get up.
“Sooo you’re not denying it? Does this mean you’re finally accepting me as your future wife!?” you gasp dramatically, pointing at him.
Katsuki chokes on his own spit—his face instantly flushing crimson as he realizes the fatal mistake in his phrasing. He sharply turns to your direction with a vein already popped on his temple as he hisses through gritted teeth.
“SHUT UP!! I DIDN’T SAY SHIT!!”
He then lets out an exasperated huff —but he can still feel his face heated up despite his best efforts to remain nonchalant about it. The way you keep bringing up the "future wife" thing still makes him flustered as hell, even now.
“Tch. Just get up, will ya? We’re gonna be late for class, ya damn lunatic.” He scoffs—avoiding your question, as always.
“So… aren’t you gonna help your future wife up?” you grin slyly.
Katsuki visibly twitches—his entire body stiffening as he debates between walking away or just exploding out of sheer frustration and embarrassment. His face is rapidly turning redder by the second—but instead of doing either, he suddenly snarls and reaches down, roughly yanking you up by the wrist.
”There! Happy now, ya damn crazy woman?!” He barks—though his grip lingers for a second longer than necessary before he abruptly drops your hand and storms off, shoulders tense.
"Hurry, husband! We’re gonna be late for class!” You call out as you quickly catch up to him—then suddenly loop your arms around his neck, planting a big kiss on his cheek. You pull back just as fast, letting him go, your triumphant grin already forming before you even land back on your heels. Then you strut forward, pride practically radiating off you.
Katsuki falters—practically wheezing as you plaster yourself against him, planting a massive kiss on his cheek before letting go and prancing off.
For a moment, he’s absolutely frozen—his brain shutting down as his face turns a shade of red so dark he resembles a tomato. It takes a solid five seconds before he can actually regain enough awareness to move—grumbling and cursing under his breath as he stomps after you, far too flustered to even respond to your antics.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Strategy 2: Commitment Trap— Make him verbally claim you (even accidentally).
Time skipped to the last day of middle school, Katsuki just finished his UA entrance exams and is attending the last day of school when in the middle of class a crumpled paper lands in front of him. Opening it, he sees:
'Meet me after school under the cherry blossom at the park ASAP. ♡'
Katsuki squints at the crumpled note—his usual scowl deepening as he reads it. The handwriting is unmistakable, and that little heart at the end? Yeah, only you would do something like that.
Because of course he does—who else would have the audacity to toss notes at him mid-class?
He almost scoffs and crumples it again out of habit—but there’s something about the urgency in your scribbled words that makes him pause a bit.
You never called him to the cherry blossom tree unless it was important.
So with a grumble, he shoves the note into his pocket and—once the final bell rings—stalks off toward the park without another word, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he tries to ignore the nagging twist in his gut.
What the hell are you up to now?
Katsuki walks briskly through the gates toward the park—his mind already bracing himself for whatever over-the-top declaration you have cooked up this time.
His heart is doing that weird thud-thud thing again—he blames it on the brisk walk and definitely not the anticipation of what you’re about to say.
And the second he spots the unmistakable sight of you waiting for him beneath the cherry blossoms, his stomach does a strange flip.
He knows he should be annoyed, but damn it.
His footsteps are surprisingly quiet on the cobbled path as he approaches you—eyes narrowing slightly as he gives you a once-over, searching for any hint of what you might have planned this time.
“You better have a damn good reason for callin’ me here on the last day of school.” He grumbles, almost succeeding in maintaining an irritated facade, if not for the faint, almost imperceptible flicker of curiosity in his red eyes.
You step forward, your eyes refusing to meet his as you stay on your toes.
“Uhm… uh…”
Katsuki stiffens instantly—your hesitation sending alarm bells ringing in his head. You never act like this—not unless something’s seriously wrong. His jaw clenches as he takes a sharp step forward, voice dropping into something uncharacteristically serious:
”Oi. What’s wrong?”
He’s already mentally preparing to hunt down whoever made you like this.
“Katsuki… you’re going to UA, right?”
Katsuki blinks—slightly off-guard by your question. Still, he nods slowly, eyes narrowing warily as he gauges where this line of conversation is heading.
”Yeah… and?” He grumbles—the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction as he waits for you to continue.
You falter, gaze shifting away from him, landing somewhere off to the side. Katsuki immediately picks up on your nervous demeanor—his chest tightening uncomfortably.
”Oi. Spit it out already." He orders, the gruffness in his voice unable to mask the hint of concern that slips through. He hates seeing you anything less than your usual carefree self.
“Good luck.” Your voice cracks on the word, followed by a sniff as your hands rush forward to cover your face.
Katsuki stops dead—your words hitting him like a punch to the gut.
For once in his life, he’s completely silent, staring at you in disbelief as you sniffle and try to hide your face.
”What the hell…?” His voice drops low, dangerously so, as he steps forward and forcefully pulls your hands away from your face.
His red eyes burn into yours—his grip tightening ever so slightly as he growls out.
”What the hell kind of goodluck is that?! You don’t just—”
He stops himself abruptly, jaw clenching as he takes in your tear-streaked face.
He’s never seen you cry like this, not once in all the years he’s known you.
And suddenly—the realization hits him like a ton of bricks.
”…You’re leaving.”
It’s not a question.
His voice is eerily quiet—laced with something raw and angry—because how dare you pull this shit now? After everything?
He swallows hard—his hands still gripping yours like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go.
”Where?” His voice cracks slightly on the word.
He needs to know. He needs to—
“Going to Nagasaki.” You croak it out. Katsuki exhales, relief flooding him that you weren’t going overseas—but still, the significant distance makes his chest tighten.
Sure, Nagasaki wasn’t foreign soil like he’d feared, but the fact that you still wouldn’t be here feels like a knife to the gut.
”Why… why Nagasaki?” He mutters. The usual sharp edge missing from his voice because damn it, he couldn’t find it in himself to yell at you right now.
“There’s a school there that fits better for my quirk, and I have a family there to help me.”
Katsuki exhales sharply—his jaw tightening as he processes your words. His fingers twitch at his sides—wanting to reach out, to stop this somehow—but he knows he can’t.
Not when it’s about your future.
Still—
”Tch.” He clicks his tongue—glaring off to the side before abruptly stepping forward and yanking you into a tight embrace—his nose buried in your hair as he practically growls:
”You better not fuckin’ forget about me then.”
You stiffen before smiling against his chest and burying your face into it, arms snaking around him with a muffled, “How could I forget my husband? If anything, I should be saying that to you—you better not find another wife.”
Katsuki lets out a sharp, incredulous scoff—his grip tightening around you almost painfully as he snaps.
”As if I’d ever put up with another damn lunatic like you.”
His voice is rough, but his fingers curl gently into the fabric of your shirt, betraying the softness beneath his harsh tone.
Then, quieter—almost hesitant—he mutters against your hair:
”…You’re stuck with me.”
“What was that?” You pull away slightly, raising a brow with a smirk.
Katsuki immediately scowls—his face flushing scarlet as he realizes exactly what he just admitted. He shoves you away gently with a growl—voice dripping with exasperation.
”I said to shut your damn trap! You damn clingy woman!!”
“I dunno… how about we make this official , just in case?”
Katsuki freezes—eyes widening as your words sink in. Once again, he’s well and truly speechless—brain struggling to reconcile the sudden proposal with the reality of impending distance.
He should be irritated. He should be telling you to stop pushing your luck—to stop playing with his heart like this. He should.
But instead—without even thinking—he hears himself mutter gruffly.
”…You mean… like… marriage or somethin’?”
“Gasp! Aren’t we already married!? We’re GONNA BE married, but we can’t just jump straight into it, can we? You know what I mean…” You whisper the last part, cheeks tinged pink, heart racing.
Katsuki chokes on his own saliva—face crimson as he seem to realize what you’re getting at. He splutters incoherently, mind racing a mile a minute.
He should be yelling, dammit—should be telling you to cool it with the marriage talk. He should.
Instead, he mumbles gruffly.
”You—you mean like… an engagement or somethin’?”
And he's supposed to be one of the smartest guys in class? You curse him internally but coo at the cuteness of his cluelessness.
“WHAT? Noo—I MEAN— I would love to but…” You let out a soft tch, adapting from him before averting your gaze, cheeks tinged.
“…I meant you ask me to be your… yk… because I uhm, I like you, Katsuki. I really do, and well… uh.” You’ve never been this shy in your whole life—always bold, blunt, straightforward—but all that drastically changed after falling for the man who was supposed to be just a dare at five…
Katsuki stares—brain short-circuiting as he registers your confession. Face erupts into scarlet—usual confident demeanor crumbling under emotions he’s never processed.
For a long moment, he’s utterly silent—just gawking at you.
Then his hands shoot out to roughly grab your shoulders, voice hoarse as he grits out:
“You— you idiot!!”
His hands are shaking.
He’s fuming while his grip tightens, red eyes burning into yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.
Finally, he exhales sharply through his nose, trying to sound calm, and failing miserably
“Tch. Fine.”
He looks away—jaw clenched—before muttering under his breath.
“Be my girlfriend… or whatever.”
Silence for a moment. Then—he’s tackled to the ground like five-year-olds all over again, first meeting in the sandbox.
“OOF!” Katsuki lets out a strangled noise as you barrel into him, back hitting the grass with a thud, your weight pressing down as he wheezes for breath.
Face burning hotter, mind short-circuiting at the sheer déjà vu—because this is how it all started.
Sandbox flashbacks intensify.
And yet—despite the indignity of being flattened into the dirt—he doesn’t shove you off. Instead, his hands hover awkwardly before finally settling on your waist—voice a gruff, flustered mumble.
“Goddammit…you’re still the same damn crazy woman…”
"Not very husband material to say to your wife." You grin before leaning in, capturing his lips—the first kiss after years of marriage declarations and bickering.
Katsuki tenses immediately. His entire body rigid as your lips press against his—mind blowing up faster than any explosion he’s ever created.
For a terrifying, blissful second, he doesn’t breathe, doesn’t move, just stares at you wide-eyed, frozen in shock.
Then—hands clamp around your waist, hauling you impossibly closer as he kisses you back, fierce intensity slanting over your lips, pent-up frustration, longing, and adoration pouring out.
You taste like victory and kind of homey—and he hates how right it feels.
When he finally pulls away, flushed, breathing ragged—he mutters against your lips.
”…Shut up.”
Unable to resist, he tugs you back in for another one as the cherry blossoms drift lazily above you both.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Strategy 3: Wife-Me-Up Level—Make him put a ring on that finger.
A few years later, their careers took off. Katsuki had successfully become a hero, while you had landed your dream job. You both decided to move into one house, and one day, while deciding to tag along with Katsuki on one of his favorite hobbies—hiking a big mountain—you were literally on the verge of exhaustion, while Katsuki was already at the top.
“Katsuki, I can't… I'm literally gonna die at this point,” you gasp between panting, wobbling on your feet. You slump forward, grabbing a nearby rock for support, glaring playfully at him. “Seriously, you don’t even feel sorry for me?”
Katsuki glances back from his spot at the summit—already catching his breath and looking infuriatingly composed—only to see you doubled over, hands on your knees, practically wheezing like you're one step away from collapsing.
"Tch. Weak." He scoffs but the moment the word leaves his mouth, he’s already stomping back down toward you, scowl etched firmly on his face.
Before you can protest, he crouches slightly and hauls you over his shoulder like a damn sack of potatoes.
“Katsuki—what the hell!—put me down this instant!!" you yell, kicking your legs lightly, trying to wriggle free but failing.
He ignores your indignant squawk as he adjusts his grip and starts marching the rest of the way up.
"Shut up, before I leave you out. tsk. you're such a pain in the ass.." He grumbles—his voice rough, annoyed as always, though his hold on you stays firm, secure.
Then, without warning, he gives your ass a light smack, making you yelp in surprise at the back, while up front he flashes a triumphant grin, already striding forward like nothing happened.
When you both finally reach the top, Katsuki sets you down carefully, hands steadying your shoulders as you find your bearings. Once he’s certain you won’t keel over again, he takes a few steps back and crosses his arms, gaze sweeping over the vast mountain terrain below.
The summit was one of his favorite places to train at—and it was especially scenic with the sun setting.
He glances at your flushed face, chest heaving as you pant heavily, and snorts.
“Can't even climb one stupid mountain without losing your breath, huh?"
“Hey, I don’t do stuff like this a lot, okay!” you pout, planting your hands on your hips and pretending to glare. “And you didn’t even let me come with you much back then! You’re lucky I even showed up today.”
Katsuki lets out an amused scoff, lips twitching into a smirk as he turns away to avoid your adorable pout.
"That's your fault for being weak. Not my job to coddle you all the damn time." He retorts, subtle affection betraying his harsh words as you just roll your eyes playfully at response
Shoving his hands into his pockets, he sweeps his gaze back over the mountainside—as if avoiding you directly. When he speaks again, there’s a gruff hesitancy in his voice.
"Hey… uh, I got… got something to say."
“Yeah? What is it, my husband? Your dear wife is listening,” you tease, smirking before leaning in like a cartoon character listening intently.
He rolls his eyes, then drops to one knee—your eyes widen.
Katsuki grits his teeth, face already burning crimson as he kneels in front of you, scowl locked firmly in place despite the way his hands tremble slightly.
"Shut up and listen for once, damn woman." He grumbles, though there's no real bite to it. Fingers fumble slightly as he reaches into his pocket and then, with an uncharacteristically shaky exhale, he pulls out a ring.
It’s simple, sturdy—perfect for someone like you.
Jaw clenched, pride warring with vulnerability, he locks eyes with you, voice raw:
"So… you gonna marry me for real or what?"
Your eyes widen, mouth slightly agape, cheeks flushed as you just stared at him in shock.
Katsuki watches your stunned reaction with a mix of barely concealed panic and overwhelming pride—fingers tightening around the ring as he waits for you to say something—anything—that isn’t just gaping at him.
His heart is pounding so loud he’s half-convinced you can hear it.
”Oi. Say something, dumbass—before I change my damn mind.” He growls—but his voice cracks on the last word, ruining the threat entirely.
“Why… why are you questioning me when I’ve been asking you the same question ever since we were kids, YOU SWEET BIG OAF!” You tackle him once again, squealing like a fangirl. “YES! YES! YES!”
Katsuki yelps as you slam into him—back hitting the dirt again, some things never change. The ring nearly goes flying from his grip, but he clutches it tightly at the last second, other arm instinctively wrapping around your waist to steady you.
”GODDAMMIT— WILL YOU STOP TACKLING ME EVERY TIME YOU GET EMOTIONAL?!” He roars, face on fire—but the sheer, unbridled relief in his voice is unmistakable.
Then—with a grunt—he shoves the ring onto your finger, maybe a little too forcefully, before pulling you into a bruising kiss.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ FINAL STRATEGY COMPLETION: Marriage Secured
While at overseas, Becky had inherited her father’s legacy—taking over the Blackbell Company after his retirement.
The glass tower of the Blackbell Co. headquarters shimmered like a proud crown under the New York skyline, but inside, its CEO looked like she’d rather be anywhere else.
Becky sat behind her obnoxiously massive executive desk, legs not touching the floor as always, tongue absolutely bitten in concentration while wrangling paperwork into submission. Pen scribbling aggressively as she signs document after document.
A knock echoes against the towering double doors of her office.
“Come in,” she says briskly, not glancing up even once as her signature practically morphs into cursive lightning.
The heavy doors groan open.
Martha, her longtime butler, crosses in—gliding forward with practiced calm despite Becky’s office feeling like a hurricane brewed inside a cathedral. Becky catches the familiar silhouette in her peripheral vision, but her pen doesn’t stop, not even for etiquette.
“What is it, Martha?” she asks, already expecting coffee refills or schedule changes.
“You have a letter, my lady,” Martha answers—flat, unmoved.
Becky snorts. “Just one? Okay. Put it over there on the stack. I’m waging war against quarterly reports and they’re winning.”
Martha takes one step closer, and the air shifts slightly.
“This letter was personally delivered, My lady,” Martha adds, a single brow arching.
“I think it’s rather important that you should read it.”
Becky groans like a wilting anime protagonist, finally lifting her head.
On Martha’s tray sits a pink envelope—soft, frilly, violent levels of suspicious.
“…Pink?” Becky mutters. “Martha. Is someone proposing a magical girl contract to me? Because absolutely not, we already have a branding department.”
Martha sighs through her nose. “It has a wax stamp, ma’am.”
Becky’s eye twitches. “Fantastic. A royal pink messenger pigeon.”
She leans forward, dragging her fingers down her face dramatically.
“I don’t know— maybe it’s a stupid random company wanting a collab—ugh, whatever, GIVE IT HERE—”
Martha sets the tray down.
Becky snatches the envelope and wasted no time flipping the envelope over, grabs her reading glasses from the corner of her desk, and slides them on.
She unfolds the mysterious card inside.
“You’ve been invited to the wedding of…”
And Becky stops.
The pen hits the paper. The office clock ticks.
A distant car honk outside fills the silence because even the world is waiting for her reaction.
Eyes violently wide. Mouth open. Soul evaporated.
“M-Martha… call Anya…” she stutters—but the phone rings before she can finish.
Martha answers for her with a tiny nod. “It’s Ms. Anya.”
She hands over the receiver.
Becky snatches it again, speed demon, corporate PTSD, glasses tilted low on her nose and still staring at the envelope like it contains national secrets.
“DID YOU—” both girls exclaim at the same time.
Anya bursts into laughter on the other end.
“I TOLD YOU SO BECKY HAHAHA!!!”
Becky freezes—then looks at the phone like it stabbed her trust personally.
“…Oh my god.” She backs away from the desk slowly, wiping imaginary sweat from her forehead. “I did not think she’d actually go through with it. I thought she was joking. We were FIVE???”
She begins pacing—the phone still in hand—boots click-click-clicking like she’s rehearsing for a panic runway walk.
Meanwhile on the desk, the letter lies open—the pink marriage invitation card peeking out from the folds like files marked Mission Complete, your name and Katsuki’s printed boldly across the cover.
Operation: Strategy Get Ya, Baby— SUCCESS!
.𖥔a/n: HERE'S YOUR PART 2 MINA SANN (≧▽≦) I'm sorry that i posted it a little late despite telling y'all I would be posting it shortly—been busy with school and ofcourse the editing before posting this fic but ANYWAY— I hope you like it! Stay tuned for more rambles<3
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