Ms.Sagitterrorist

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ Nahdia . ⋆˚19. ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡° MDNI( or do Idc)

[nysrevenge]

Love Letters to Fictional Men

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ Nahdia . ⋆˚19. ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ MDNI( or do I really don't care )

MASTERLIST

WHAT GOT ME DRIPPIN

new post- Heal your heart 3

Join the Taglist

CONTAINS ANIME AND SHOW/MOVIE SMUT

PLEASE DONT COPY/PLAGIARIZE/TRANSLATE OR REPOST ANY OF MY ORIGINAL WORK FOR ANY REASON!

[t0jisbunny]

asking husband!toji to help you help you get the overdue baby out! ꒰♡

mdni. smut/ crack - (basically just toji getting bitched around by his pregnant wife)

"toji. get this baby the fuck out of me. now.”

your husband furrows his brows, watching you pace your shared bedroom like a mad woman, gritting your teeth in frustration.

the baby was now two weeks late. you were done — you just wanted the kid out of you already. you’d tried practically everything; herbal teas, spicy food, bouncing on that stupid yoga ball until your thighs burned… the list went on.

then, you remembered there was one thing you hadn’t tried.

"…cmon, baby. you’re tiring yourself out with all that pacin’ around. the midwife said it’ll be any day now," toji says, watching you roll your eyes in response, both hands resting on your oversized belly.

you trundle over to the bed, laying down next to toji who was quick to steady you. "now, toji!" you hiss, trying to shimmy your shorts down.

he finally gets the memo.

"what, y’want me to fuck you? now?" he asks, not moving yet.

you grit your teeth again, frustrated and overwhelmed with hormones. "no, idiot. i’m taking my pants off for no reason," you reply sarcastically.

toji bites his tongue, running the idea through his head — slightly scared to say no to you right now.

"that even safe?" he questions.

"if you don’t get this baby out of me right now, so help me i’m going to divorce you," you snarl, no real malice behind your cruel words.

toji willingly gets himself hard, an easy task when he’s right next to his wife. he climbs on top of you, careful not to rest his weight on your vulnerable frame.

he tugs his sweatpants down, then tries kissing you, ready to prep you to take him as always, but receives a firm slap on his wandering hand— "hurry up!"

"alright, alright. jesus, babe," he mumbles, quickly realising you were in no mood for foreplay.

in fact, toji was pretty sure you didn’t view this as sex at all — just an experimental way of getting this damn baby out.

toji aligns his cock with your entrance, slowly pushing in, feeling you lock your legs around him desperately, forcing him all the way. "haaah — easy," he groans.

truthfully, it’d been a while since he’d even allowed himself to stuff you full. the last thing he’d ever want to do was hurt you, or the baby.

"mnnn — okay. hard and fast. let’s go," you pant lightly, smacking his ass encouragingly.

one thing he wouldn’t let slide if you weren’t extremely pregnant.

just as you wish, toji starts moving, his pace slow at first, still cautious not to cause you discomfort. "shit, y’feel fuckin’ amazing," toji rasps, quickly snapping back into reality as you try to buck your hips against him.

"faster, mnghh — please," you mewl, now only half focused on inducing labour, your husbands dick practically hypnotising you in the process.

minutes pass. toji stays focused, giving you exactly what you need, hurried, deep thrusts making your head spin with pleasure.

then, you gasp — hands gripping your husbands meaty bicep.

toji feels the lower half of his body become drenched. “fucckkk, that’s it — make a mess," he purrs.

then he looks down, catching the large smile on your face.

"is the hospital bag ready?” you say.

"…yeah, why?"

you grab toji’s face, tugging him forward to kiss him excitedly. "my water just broke, idiot!"

not exactly the mess he was expecting.

[2neaky]

𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑬𝑭 𝑨𝑳𝑬𝑹𝑻; 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑺𝑷𝑰𝑹𝑬𝑫 𝑾𝑹𝑰𝑻𝑬𝑹

𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘧𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘴, 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘶𝘵 @getmoneygirl 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 “𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥” 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘑𝘑𝘒/𝘈𝘖𝘛/𝘑𝘌𝘙𝘔𝘈𝘑𝘌𝘚𝘛𝘠 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘮, @getmoneygirl 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵!

𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴.

@getmoneygirl has admitted to reading my work before & wanting to plagiarize one of my more recent fics: Thank U 4 The Dono

My opening sequence (left) vs. @getmoneygirl (right).

@getmoneygirl even copied my warnings (mine is the left & hers is the right).

Here is her ( @getmoneygirl ) newest version (bottom two screenshots) of reheating my nachos (top two).

𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘴, 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘨𝘯𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦, 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘐? 𝘈𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘱𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘱 𝘣𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵 @getmoneygirl 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘶𝘥𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘭. 𝘐𝘯 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳.

“𝘐𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘰𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘱𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴.”

—𝘖𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘸/ 𝘖𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘦

Taglist: @getmoneygirl @wintrrxxo @vibewshyla @icanmakethedickstandup @toji-dabi-wife @genea-myers @whoareyouuuo @thegoatedaries @nova2kss @plutobratz @levibabymama_ @bubblegum-lollipop @junitries @thevelvetwhispers @pussypinkdoll @venusincleo @soupersaldz @synicalslut @nysrevenge @ami-s-k @6slux @hcneymooners @aranisbaee @powdertojinx @thelovewitch2016 @bad4bey @liliacsdelight @cartinextdoor @adoreemxs @aizawash0e @tojislittlesluttt @esposadomd @severenswife @3thereal2tutu @princesstiti14

[11rarara]

The body of 18 year old Nolan Xavier Wells has unfortunately been found after he went missing from Horn Island, Mississippi. Wells went boating with a group of boys — the rest of the party being white — on July 4th, but he was the only one who didn’t return to shore.

It is becoming increasingly dangerous to be the only black person in a group. Rest in peace, Nolan. You deserve justice.

Update:

I’ve found his family’s GoFundMe for his funeral and celebration of life expenses. This campaign was created by their family friend Allayah Denis and is the only campaign they have, all others are fraudulent. They haven’t reached their goal yet, and funeral expenses are an incredible burden, so if you have the means please consider donating.

Donate to In Loving Memory of Nolan Xavier Wells, organized by Allayah Denis

In Loving Memory of Nolan Xavier Wells Our hearts are broken beyond words. … Allayah Denis needs your support for In Loving Memory of

As of right now there appears to be no investigation yet, but hopefully there will be soon. Mississippi representative Bennie G. Thompson has publicly urged authorities for an investigation on his social media. If you have any more information please let me know. I’ll put any further updates in a reblog.

*Alt text has now been added to the original images.

[claudialynq]

COWBOY TOJIII

Hello another toji art I promise next one is gojo or geto or maybe them both I don’t know yet!!

[disc80s]

i hope conversation pits will have a comeback

[nysrevenge]

Sighhh have I told yall how much I love @thebumblebeesworld

[aizawash0e]

A NAME FOR THE ORDER?

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১

welcome to my taglist!

hand-delivered 🍪📦 from Mika’s Bakery

please comment under this post which fandom and series you would like to be added too!

if it’s a specific character please state that as well, if you would like to be @ to all of my works that is more then fine with me!

if it is a specific fandom please write the given title name below!

────୨ৎ────

How to place your order exactly the way you like?

⭑.ᐟ for all my works- comment “ the ultimate sweet tooth”

SINNERS SINFUL BITES 🫦🧁୭ ᵎᵎ ‧₊˚

⭑.ᐟ for Stack: "Red Velvet Cake"

⭑.ᐟ for Smoke: "Blue Cheesecake"

⭑.ᐟ for Sammie: "Cinammon Roll"

⭑.ᐟ for Bo Chow: "Mooncake"

CLARK KENT'S APPLE PIE 🥧 𖦹⋆｡˚⋆

⭑.ᐟ for Clark Kent: "Apple Pie"

SPECIAL GRADE DELIVERY °☆🍥🍡࿔*:･ﾟ

⭑.ᐟ for Gojo: “Mochi”

⭑.ᐟ for Geto: “Taikayi Waffles”

⭑.ᐟ for Choso : “Strawberry Daifuku”

⭑.ᐟ for Nanami: “Milk Bread”

⭑.ᐟ for Hiromi Higuruma: “Sake-kasu Nama Cheesecake”

⭑.ᐟ for Toji Fushiguro: “Takoyaki”

HEAVYWEIGHT PROTEIN COOKIES 🍪 ⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆˚࿔

⭑.ᐟ for Adonis Creed: “Peach Cobbler”

🍮🥄 ˚₊‧

thank you for placing your order and giving me your name, your delivery will arrive shortly. you are officially a regular here at the bakery!! can’t wait for you to be up to date with the latest on the menu!! - xoxoxo Mika ໒꒰ྀི ˶> ˕ <˶꒱ྀི১

all rights reserved © aizawash0e.

dividers used by @batsydividers

[shereeluvssinners]

Michael B Jordan

[nysrevenge]

I respectfully seek your permission to share something of importance with you in a more private setting. May I reach out?

Yes you may🫶🏽

[2neaky]

—𝑵𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝑴𝒚 𝑳𝒊𝒍’ 𝑺𝒉𝒊𝒕, 𝑾𝒆 𝑨𝒊𝒏’𝒕 𝑭𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝑰𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝑴𝒊𝒏 𝜗ৎ 𖥔 ݁ ˖

𐔌 5.9K 𐦯 • 𝘕𝘖 𝘔𝘐𝘕𝘖𝘙𝘚.ᐟ | 𝑷𝒍𝒖𝒈.ᐟ𝑶𝒏𝒚, CollegeAU, mention of drugs (weed), or*l (m. receiving), face-f*cking (slightly rough, lots of gagging, very messy—does this count as oral fixation?), f*ngering, implied p -> v s*x, dirty talk, slight degradation, corruption of mc, inexperienced mc, mc goes in sub-space (unknowingly), mc gets d*ck-drunk, minor BDSM dynamics, subtle size k*nk, gentle/caring Ony, nonchalant Ony, teasing Ony, slow-build interest, nicknames (Mama & Princess), explicit language, use of the n-word (all characters & Author are Black)

Part 1 Here

Taking himself in hand, he rubs it like a wand and swabs it against her lips. The sloppy, uncoordinated push of his dick against her face makes her flinch here and there. But she doesn't pull away in the slightest when he smears their mess all over the lower half of her face.

His hand shifts to hook a thumb between her lips and push down.

"Open."

The hinge of her jaw slackens with ease.

"Stick that pretty tongue out."

She does exactly what he says, and within that second, the fat head of his dick is slapping against her taste buds.

"Mhm, look real good like this."

He can already imagine himself bursting on her tongue. He glances up from her mouth to see the stars in her glistening eyes.

"Should bust all over you right now," he rasps. "You want that?"

She nods eagerly, tongue sticking out of her mouth like a panting dog. The fruity hue of the muscle is too similar to the inside of her pussy.

"Suck it outta me, then. The fuck?"

Early Access on My Patreon Here

Coming Soon on Tumblr…

𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒔 ᝰ @uzmacchiato @crylynnluv

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ᝰ @wintrrxxo @vibewshyla @icanmakethedickstandup @toji-dabi-wife @genea-myers @whoareyouuuo @thegoatedaries @nova2kss @plutobratz @levibabymama_ @bubblegum-lollipop @junitries @thevelvetwhispers @pussypinkdoll @venusincleo @soupersaldz @synicalslut @nysrevenge @ami-s-k @6slux @hcneymooners @aranisbaee @powdertojinx @thelovewitch2016 @bad4bey @liliacsdelight @cartinextdoor @adoreemxs @aizawash0e @tojislittlesluttt

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

THAT'S A GOOD BELLE! [18+ SERIES]

Pairing: Southern!JJK Men x Southern Belle!Reader [SEPARATE]

Synopsis: During a particularly steamy summer, you leave the city to spend the summer with your wealthy and dignified aunt when she invites you to her home in the Southern countryside to learn how to be a "dignified woman"...that's codeword for "finding a husband". A woman of your background in the upper crust of Southern society should at least have a suitor, according to your family.

Lucky for you, you'll have your pick of a litter of sexy Southern men of all different flavors. The problem is...you have to choose just one. And they're ALL vying for your attention! What is a dignified Southern belle to do with such temptation?

Warnings: 18+ (MDNI); No Curse AU; Summer Vacation/Southern AU; Romance Tropes (Exes to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Second Chance, Forbidden Love, etc.); Cowboy!JJK; Dubcon/R*pe (Sukuna, Higuruma & Shiu); Shotgunning; Public Sex; Pussy Eating; Deepthroating; Big Ol' Dicks; Riding (Horses AND Dick!); Doggystyle; Mating Press; Headlock Fucking; Spanking; Choking; Hair Pulling; Spit Play; Cum Play; Creampie; Dom!JJK Men; sub!JJK Men; Switch!JJK Men; Marriage Proposals?

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you! 

Writer's Note: I've been planning this series since December 2025 & felt like reaching 6k was the PERFECT time to finally write it! So this is a little summer event to celebrate hitting 6k (SOON TO BE 7K!!!) & cuz I'm a slut for Southern!JJK shit. I plan to end this series in September/October but I'll be updating all throughout the summer with new one shots! I hope y'all enjoy it! -Jazz

Credits: Dividers @firefly-graphics & @cursed-carmine!

Gojo Satoru, The Country Star, Makes You Swoon in "Backseat Serenade"!

"Well, well...look who snuck backstage and decided to come crawlin' back to her favorite country boy. Guess city life wasn't as pretty as me, was it, darlin'?"

Warnings: 18+ (MDNI); No Curse AU; Second Chance Romance; Unplanned Pregnancy; Famous Ex/Baby Daddy!Gojo x Baby Mama!Reader; Old College Romance; Exes to Lovers; MILF!Reader; Public Sex; Outdoor Sex; Pussy Eating; Gojo is a Munch; Tour Bus Sex; Mating Press; Riding; Tongue Piercing; Dick Piercing; Deepthroat; Breeding Kink; Creampie; Switchy!Gojo x Switchy!Reader

Read On 5/1/26!

Choso Kamo, The Farm Boy, Ruins The Friendship in "Good With His Hands"! CUMMING SOON!

"I've always stayed your friend 'cause you're at the top of the social latter and me? I'm just the farm boy...but now that you're here, there ain't nothin' stoppin' me from tellin' you how I feel."

Warnings: TBA

Nanami Kento, The Rancher, Tastes Your Goodies in "A Sweet Lil' Temptation"! CUMMING SOON!

"I know I shouldn't feel these things for you. This primal need...but God, angel...you just entice me. Your heavenly cookin' don't make it no better for a man like me."

Warnings: TBA

Geto Suguru, The Outlaw, Steals Your Heart in "A Love Outlawed"! CUMMING SOON!

"You ain't a bad lil' rider, partner. Maybe you can teach me some of your tricks sometime? Can't have ya outdoin' the best at his game."

Warnings: TBA

Sukuna Ryomen, The Gangster, Shows You One Hell of a Time in "In the Arms of Sin"! CUMMING SOON!

"You think you can just come here, interrupt my beauty sleep, and order ME around? Nah, angel; ya ain't gettin' whatcha want 'round here till ya give me a reason to give it to ya."

Warnings: TBA

Shiu Kong, The Pimp, Wines n Dines You in "A Price For Paradise"! CUMMING SOON!

"You've got the beauty. The brains. The lifestyle. You're the pinnacle of a Southern belle, my dear...and yet here you are, splittin' those legs for a dirty man like me."

Warnings: TBA

Toji Fushiguro, The Bull Rider, Takes You For a Ride in "Buckle Up, Bunny"! CUMMING SOON!

"Playin' pool and shootin' the shit with the likes me, eh? Ya got a thang for bull riders, lil' darlin'? What ever will your poor auntie think?"

Warnings: TBA

Higuruma Hiromi, The Sheriff, Teases n Disciplines You in "Teachin' The Bratty Belle"! CUMMING SOON!

"I should keep your ass here till you've learned your lesson, but I've got somethin' better for ya. Somethin' a gal like you might enjoy."

Warnings: TBA

Taglist: TBA

[nysrevenge]

The only person I ship for him sighhhhh

TikTok - Make Your Day

I was ROBBED!!!!!

[notapradagurl]

Roomie, Lover & Friend.

Black Fem! Reader x “Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore” & “Elias ‘Stack’ Moore” from Sinners. (present day.)

A/N: I need these two, damn. I haven't written for the SmokeStack twins, and I thought of these two in the modern-day world, and came up with this. Enjoy! 🙂‍↕️❤️

Summary: After a tough year, you needed a temporary place to stay while you regained stability, so you reached out to your childhood best friends, Smoke and Stack, at their cozy home. Inviting friendship to involve into something more deeper.

Warnings: threesome with twins, no incest, dirty talk, praise, angst, mention of seasonal depression, head, roommates/housemates, brotherly bickering, size kink, cum swallowing/eating, pussy worship, fingering, head, friends to lovers trope, possessive!Smoke, possessive!Stack, deep throating, manhandling, biting, fingers in mouth, creampies.

Taglist: @satoruya @saturnsgroove @sageispunk @life-in-the-slut-house @euphorichappiness10 @soft-persephone @slippinninque @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @uzumaki-rebellion @eye-raq @wakandas-vibranium @daddysmoke @blyffe @kumkaniudaku @jaylie-bee @thevelvetwhispers @harmshake @playgurlxoxo @planetblaque @plan3tch1ld @siqueth @anniensmoke3

———————

Last year turned out so much differently from what you imagined, you went through grief, and heartbreak, got fired from your job, and were evicted from your apartment, and didn't want to tell your family about it. It was rough but you were still standing, still breathing.

You sat quietly in the driver’s seat of your car, with your hands on the steering wheel firmly grasped. Your deep brown eyes roamed over the house that stood tall—-one story of deep blue, square windows covered by red, and blue curtains, and the porch, brick steps leading up to the front door.

“Just until you get back on your feet, that's all,” You mumbled softly, unease in your voice.

The Moore twins adored you deeply, and how could they say no to you?

You’ve contacted the twins via FaceTime and shared the unfortunate news from last year. They offered their assistance, but the initial move was to live with them.

The economy was unforgivably horrid, inflation, and not to mention the job market as well. Thankfully, you saved up enough money.

This choice wasn't desperation, but a necessity.

Elijah Moore & Elias Moore, better known by their monikers Smoke & Stack. There was an deep southern edge to the men, bittersweet, and dangerous.

Smoke served as silent chaos, while Stack served as rampant. The human form of yin and yang, raging waters, and slick oil spills.

You've known the men all your life, from building sand castles on the sandbox in the neighborhood park, to running home before the street lights flickered on summer warm nights.

They simply served you as a protective duo as they were bodyguards in your life, as if they were shadows, damn near following your every move.

The men swiftly kept people at bay, ensuring that all types of men stayed at a distance.

Honestly, the men were too scared to come near you simply because of Smoke & Stack.

You've dated one or two men in your dating life, and that was it. Smoke and Stack remained the only men in your life, and you wanted to keep it that way.

Finally, after completing every decision in your mind. You hopped out of the car, and slammed the door just before locking it with the remote button, triggering the double chirps behind you.

You approached the front door with its intricate wooden carvings, the screen door creaked open, and you knocked timidly. Hearing the soft thud of footsteps across brown hardwood, and the creak of the hinges.

Revealing Smoke before you, as he stood shirtless, buff from the gym, with grey sweatpants, his lips curved into a smile of warmth toward you. A little flutter in your heart, and that safety, sudden love you felt from him.

“What’s up, Y/n?” Smoke greeted, voice like velvet, and southern thick like molasses.

“Hey Elijah, thanks for this,” You greeted; smiling softly. Stepping through the threshold, as he pushed the door with ease.

You exhaled softly, as if a weight lifted off your shoulders, before sauntering into his arms, as his arms wrapped around your waist protectively, yet tenderly and laying your head against his bare chest. Weed, critus, and cinnamon wafting through your nose.

“You good?” He asked, his voice steady, and gentle with you. As if he matched the pace of your mental, body, and spirit. His cheek rested against your head, his hand rubbed the small of your back, in soothing circles.

You hummed back, preferring silence, and Smoke didn’t force you to elaborate; one reply was sufficient for him. Audible enough for him to hear you, soft as if your voice would break.

Smoke didn't budge.

He didn't push, or judge.

He listened, and paid attention.

“I missed you, Eli.” You added, your tone was loving and, steady. Smoke hummed lightly, smiling against your forehead, “I missed you more,” he says, loving.

“I’m sorry—” But Smoke didn't allow you to finish, he didn't want you to feel any type of way about your decision.

“Ain't no need or reason to apologize. You’re gettin’ back on your feet, and starin’ off good. We'll help you get there if you want us to,” Smoke reassured, his tone gentle, yet held a seriousness.

Elijah Moore, the man you are.

Stack emerged from the laundry room, a red basket of clothes, as his gaze flickered toward you, and he froze in his path that led to his bedroom. He dropped the basket onto the brown hardwood, grinning happily at the sight of you. His dimples deepened in his cheeks.

“Sup girl, you good?” Stack greeted kindly, his voice gravelly like concrete.

Smoke’s arms released you, as your gaze flicked to Stack, and your arms released him, you sauntered toward Stack, into his arms, hugging you tight, as he picked you up, spun you around in the air. “Hey, Elias, I'm good.” you exclaimed softly, smiling. Before setting you down, his eyes locked with yours, soft. Warm.

“Mhm, we missed the hell outta you, Y/n.” He hummed sweetly, smirking against your skin.

Stack didn't push, or budge either. One answer was sufficient, and he wouldn't want you to relive anything unpleasant by speaking.

A heavy mind doesn't need any more to claim. The twins knew that through, and through by their personal baggage, and trauma alone.

Right before pulling away from Stack, your eyes darted between the twins in curiosity. “I missed y'all too. It's been a while.”

“Make yo’ self at home, mi casa, su casa.” Smoke chimed in, his hand gestured to the living room around them.

Stack’s gaze narrowed at his brother, tilting his head to the side. “When you learn Spanish, nigga? This is our damn house, and both our names on that lease.” He shot back, rolling his eyes at his brother.

Smoke’s palm slid from his forehead to his chin, sighing lowly, almost bothered. “Nigga, it’s a expression.” He shot back, his palm swatting at his arm with a loud smack, while Stack winced, rubbing the spot.

Your palm clasped over your mouth, muffling your laughter, as your hand clutched the fabric of your t-shirt, trying to suppress the pain in your stomach. Tickling you, as you cleared your throat briefly.

“So, umm..what are the rules around the house?” You asked, scratching the nape of your neck.

Stack, and Smoke exchanged looks, and their gazes fell upon you, nervously bitting your lip.

“We take care of the bills, our clothes, the house, and the rent, if you want to—” Before Stack spoke, you inhaled sharply. “I don't have enough yet,”

Smoke shot a glare at his brother, “She ain't gotta pay rent, man. We handle that alone with our business, ‘member?”

Their line of work was their own, while Stack worked in his popular strip club called Brown Sugar, music production, and sold drugs on the side with his brother, Smoke operated in the management aspect, production, and a high-end beverage business of his own, importing all over the world.

SmokeStack Inc.

“There’s a extra room down the hall, walk straight through the door, with your first initial on it, there's a bed, with fresh sheets, and a television that's yours.” Stack mentioned with a smirk.

Stack carried your television inside their home before moving in, and when you told him about the news. That man worked fast.

“Thanks, guys!” You exclaimed, grinning at the twins.

Without hesitation, you spun around on your heels, with your bag in your grip, and sauntered through the halls, as you stepped inside, gently plopped down on the bed. Your eyes flickered toward your television and Roku remote settling atop the dresser, the scent of fresh linen, and lavender.

It was the start of a new chapter.

The twins exhaled softly, before glancing at each other.

“Whatchu smilin’ for?”

“We gon’ tell her, right?”

“We will.”

————-

Weeks sped by like a swift jackrabbit; you maintained your job while the twins managed theirs. The men prepared meals—breakfast, lunch, and dinner—while you assisted with your own household tasks, worked at your new job.

The twins handled their usual responsibilities, such as paying bills, washing their dishes, managing the mortgage, tending to the yard, and doing their laundry.

This time, your early mornings were different. You woke up not alone, but to the aroma of pancakes, French toast or waffles to your liking and eggs, accompanied by the sounds of old school music from Smoke or new age songs from Stack, coming from their speakers as they enjoyed long hot showers.

Brotherly bickering here, and there, from the living room to one of their bedrooms.

You consistently sat between the twins on the couch, with Smoke to your right and Stack to your left, watching movies and TV shows, or anime as you provided critiques, and ratings.

You played video games with them, or claimed Stack was cheating in Mortal Kombat, Call of Duty, Mario Kart, Halo and the classic various games that you couldn't remember the names of.

You would enjoy your favorite tv series, and the twins would inquire about them; Smoke was initially puzzled, while Stack particularly liked the action-packed ones with weapons and gore.

It felt nice to be around the twins, again. Their presence, humor, and brotherly moments between them. It brought back memories of your childhood with them, safe.

Yet, you noticed the house shifted into a different energy. Softer. Warmer. As if the energy was going back, and forth between the two men, you couldn't figure out what it was.

You've gotten closer to the twins each day, a smile here, and playful banter there, which came unexpectedly, and conversations have gotten longer. Lingering gazes.

Smoke wanted to talk with Stack about their feelings for you, when Stack wanted just tell you instead. Debating whether to go his way, or Stack’s way.

Stack sauntered through the house hallways holding a bowl of purple grapes, munching on them as he tossed some into his mouth. His gaze flickered toward his brother, then back to you, sprawled across the couch with your eyes glued to the screen, a game controller in hand, your tongue pressed against your cheek in focus.

Fingers hammered each button, thumbs circling the joysticks. “Shit..” you grumbled quietly, rolling your eyes at the video game noises.

You’ve been trying to beat the new Mario game for months now, and Stack hasn’t told you any short cuts or ways to beat it, you’ve been asking but there were no answers. He would rather drag it out, and tease you about it.

Stack chuckled lightly, grinning at your concentration, finding it absolutely adorable. A smile curled across his handsome face, "Elias, can't you tell me how to beat this game?" You asked, rolling your eyes. He shook his head with a teasing smirk, "Nope." he says, popping the p.

Smoke's head peering in the corner. That wasn't the first time Stack smiled because of you, and Smoke caught it. “Whatchu’ smilin’ for?” His gaze followed Stack’s, directed toward you. Smoke cracked a smile as well, it was like you brought light to their lives.

Smoke’s hand swatted at Stack’s arm, his younger brother hisses in pain. “What?”

“Nigga, bring yo’ ass in here.” Smoke whispered yelled, his hand motioned for him to come in his room.

Stack sucked his teeth lowly, irritation prickling at him. Rolling his eyes. Tightened lip expression, jaw clenched slightly.

He strolled into his brother’s room, while closing the door behind himself. Leaning heavily against the wooden door, his gaze fixed on Smoke, brow raised. “You plan on confessin’ to her befo’ me?” Stack shot back, his face grimacing. Bringing the heat.

“You ain’t never been the one to wait. Befo’ I do, I got a head start!” Smoke chuckled, while speeding off.

“What?” Stack blinked twice.

Stack swung the door open, but his big brother was fast. Smoke pulled Stack by the nape of his neck, hooked his arm around his neck, and threw Stack toward his bed.

Stack thrashed across the mattress, and Smoke ran off, chuckling behind him. Stack smacked his lips, hopped off the bed, and ran out of the bedroom, racing through the halls.

Your head snapped in their direction, as the twins bumped into each other by accident, and panting heavily. You paused the game immediately, while raising a brow. “Are y'all okay?”

The twins nodded quickly just right after grabbing cold water bottles from the fridge, while Stack cleared his throat. Gathering the right words to speak, as his brother did the same. Patient. Catching their breath.

“I got sum’ to say,” The twins said in unison, voices dropped to a dangerous, rasper octave.

Their voices alone made your breath hitch, your pussy throb, and your heart thump against your ribs, dropped the game controller, as it hit the brown hardwood. “W-what is it?” you asked softly, as your eyes darted between the men. Nervous. Almost anxious.

You've always had feelings for both men, but never confessed your feelings for them. It was difficult when there were two men, and you didn't give a damn about what people said, or thought. It was just the whole relationship thing you had to think about. How would it work?

“I’ve been in love wit you—”

“I’ve been in love wit you—”

Their gazes flickered to each other, as their eyes squinted lightly. But you decide to take the lead on this one. “I feel the same way about you, and Elias. I can finish for you, don't worry.” You explained, with a faint smirk.

A weight lifting off your shoulders, light like a feather, and a gentle posture. But you felt something shift in the air between the twins, and you, something more sudden, and deeper.

“We ain't done talkin’ yet..” Stack spoke, his voice deepened with a faint head shake.

Smoke stepped toward you, as his eyes flickered at you, attentive to the way your breath hitched, and grinning faintly. “

“How long have you felt that?”

“I’ve always felt this way about you, and Elias. It's just the dating part, you know? How would it work?” You asked, head tilting. Voice a bit softer.

Stack circled you, halting you behind you, as he leaned into your ear, “We can agree on sharin’ you, fuckin’ you good at the same time if you want to, flowers, gifts, dates, vacations, anniversaries, whatever you want is yours..” He reassured, humming cockliy.

Heat raised in your bones, as their hearts skipped beats, after beats. “Whatever I want?”

“Yes, sweetheart.”

“Can’t y’all fuck me right now? No more cute shit.”

Without hesitation. Stack scooped you up in his arms, throwing you over his shoulder, you chuckled softly, and he gave your ass a playful smack. “Ours?” Stack added, as Smoke rolled his eyes and spoke, “Sharin’ is carin’ nigga,”

The men carried you through the hallways, and walked toward the one that led to your bedroom, just after stepping inside, Stack gently laid you atop the blankets, leaning into you, crashing his lips into yours, breathing your nose, as he kissed you with hunger, moaning, mouths parts for a slow tongue fight.

Smoke interrupted by pushing his brother to the side roughly, propelled Stack backwards, as his hand pressed against the wall for balance, his gaze, deadly, and narrowing. Rolling his eyes at him, until his palm swatted at Smoke’s arm. “The fuck we just say?”

Smoke stood at the edge of the bed, standing over you, as your face warmed up. “No, it’s my turn though.”

You chimed in fast, “No fighting..” and Stack gently plopped down on the bed, behind you.

His fingers lifted your chin gently, leaning in close. His lips crashed into yours, hungrily like a famished man in the desert. You moaned shakily in the kiss, breathing through your nose, mouths parted gradually, tongues lapped, twirled lazily.

Stack’s face grimaced at the sight of you, and Smoke. His hand gripped the back of your neck, snatching your lips away from Smoke. “She mine too, nigga.” Stack shot back, his voice possessive, yet dangerous. Tilting his head, bringing your lips against his, kissing you like you were his, claiming you.

“Clothes off, baby.” Smoke commanded, his rasp seeped through, his fingers tugged at your tank top. In a trace, You broke the kiss with Stack, while Stack’s gaze narrowed at Smoke, who rolled his eyes. He knew what he was doing, though. Your body felt like it was on fire, raising in your bones. Panting for oxygen.

“Y-yeah..” You panted, your voice was low, almost trembling from nervousness.

You’ve never done this before, especially with the two men who are twins. Very fine twins.

You slipped off your tank top, and your shorts, and your panties fell off around your ankles. While the men sat in between you on the bed, sweatpants, boxers slipped off, and were tossed across the floor as if it was nothing. Their dicks were thick, dark in the same shade, hung heavy near their thighs. Same thick size.

You practically drooled at the sight of them, as Smoke, and Stack caught you, his thumb swiped at the corner of your lip. His lips curled into a devilish grin, his hand cupped your jaw, lifting your gaze toward his. “Careful now, baby. Can I fuck that pretty mouth?” Smoke asked, you gasped softly at his large hand cradling your face. “Y-yes,” you replied back.

“Lemme taste you first.” Stack chimed in, his voice low, and gradual. Your face warmed up at what he said, inviting you in. You nodded quickly, “Yeah, taste me.” you told him, biting your lip.

Without hesitation, Stack flipped you on your stomach, your ass faced Stack while your mouth faced Smoke, his hand cupped your jaw, while Stack’s hands clasped your hips still, anchoring you between the men. “We gon’ fuck you until you can’t move,” Smoke hummed, smirking. Your hand gripped Smoke’s length, eliciting a low groan from him, as Stack lifted your hips, while you kissed Smoke’s tip. Warm. Thick. His head sliding between your thighs, he caught the sight of your folds twitching, glistening wet. “Damn..”

His mouth wrapped around your clit, suckling roughly as your mouth fell open, pushing his fingers inside. Stack started off slow, punishing, and teasing. Smoke lifted your chin toward his gaze, his brow raised. “Focus” he commanded, that southern drawl with a rasp made your pussy clench around Stack’s fingers, gushing on the spot. “Yo’ nasty lil pussy..” Stack teased, pumping deeper. Elicit high pitched moans. “Shit..” you wouldn't dare say his name while in front of Smoke.

Your hips bounced atop Stack’s face while you splattered, and he indulged in the mess with spit, and his tongue. Pleasure. Body shaking. “Fuck..fuck…”Smoke’s hand snaked the nape of your neck, pushing you down on him. Your mouth took every inch in, full. Spit trickling to his balls, as the vibrations rumble through his body. “Fuck..keep goin’ work for it.” and you obliged, cheeks hollowing around him. You worked for it, indeed.

Smoke thrust his hips forcefully, then drove his dick deep, while your hand stroking his length quickly, nearly making you gag, as your mouth was glorious, warm, and wet. He wanted to ruin it. “That nasty mouth..” he mumbled, teeth sank in. Stack worked diligently, tongue fucking your pussy, clit pinched. Your breath was unsteady, fast, as your head bopped faster, the pace of your hand—slow. You panted heavily, letting out a long moan. “So good..” you mumbled. “Don't talk wit’ yo’ mouth full..” Smoke teased softly. You felt like you were in heaven. The men in between you were falling in love all over again.

Stack lapped your juices up, with his head frantically moving from side to side like a man dying of thirst. “You takin’ us like a damn champ..” Stack moaned drunkenly. Biting your bruised clit. The bed creaked underneath. “You workin’ for it, baby..” Smoke praised, growling. Stack smacked your ass with disapproval, before his fingers curled inside. You gasp so hard on his dick, and Smoke moaned raspily. His dick jumped in your throat, as you choked. “Damn right..” Stack chimed in, his thumb swiped over your clit.

You made sure that you sucked Smoke off right, while Stack finger fucked your pussy. It was all so right with them. Tears falling down your face, a babbling wet mess. Stack’s tongue dragging from your folds to your asshole, spitting on it, before his wet muscle frantically swirling around. “That’s our girl….” Smoke mewled. Eyes rolled back, it was so overwhelming in a good way. “So fuckin’ beauitful..” Stack added, the pad of his thumb flickered your clit back, and forth.

Your breath came in soft pants and whimpers, thighs pressing together as a thick line of your wetness trickled down your folds, as he opened his mouth, the slightest drop on his tastebuds, trickling down his tongue. Burying his face, swallowing every drop. Smoke's hand gripping your hair tight to dove you deeper. Swallowing him whole. His head fell back. "She taste that good?" Smoke asked, suppressing a groan.

Stack nodded, hummed on your pussy, as if he was okay. His thumb grazed over your throbbing clit, in teasing, slow circles. “You gon' cum?” Stack groaned with a grin, “Such a pretty, perfect pussy..” His palm smacked it as you yelped.

"fuckk..yes.." You babbled, bopping your head still. Unable to respond. Smoke pushed his hips at a faster pace, matching the slap of his spit-soaked balls against your chin, and the tight grip of your hand wrapped around his base, stroking fast. “Dick got yo’ tongue, baby?” Smoke asked, he watch spit trickled down with precum. Sticky. “Use that mouth..” Smoke says, fisting your hair. Lines of thick spit, and cum connected between his pubic hair, and your lips. Stack’s hands cupped your ass so hard that you whined, as he spread them apart. Waves crashing over you, bopping your head still.

The tip of Stack's tongue swirling around the puckered hole of your tight ass, sending shivers through your core. The sound of you choking on his dick, whining and a shaky moan. “So fucking..nasty..” Still panting for air, as he thrusts down your throat, sounds of the their breathing, and wet sound of your lips, the slick warmth of Stack's fingers, your pussy was swollen, and wet. “Mhmm.” Your thoughts were tangled together. His lips wrapped around your puffy, swollen folds with a loud slurp.

His warm cum spilled forward into your mouth, your cheeks filled up before swallowing every drop of him, his hands released your hair. While you came hard on Stack's mouth, he suckled, and swallowed with quickness. You lifted yourself off Smoke's dick for air, as he watched your reaction. "What a beautiful sight.." Stack rasped, his hand gripped your jaw. Tongue kissing you deep, moaning with you.

Smoke hoisted you upright, posture straight. His hands clasped your waist, as Stack pressed his chest against your back, resting his chin on your shoulder, "Let us see you take it?" Stack groaned against you, buzzing vibrations. His hands rested over your stomach before, his teeth sank into your neck, leaving a hickey on your deep brown skin. “Yeah, watch me.” You mumbled, your tongue gliding over your lip. Smoke took in the sight of you. Heat pooling around you, Stack watched your legs spread, beads of sweat clung to your back.

"Elijah..Elias..please.."

Smoke angling his dick toward your wet pussy, his tip nudged your wet swollen folds apart, as a "Ouuuu! Elijahh!" rippled from your neck, as he sank his fat dick deep in you, every inch stretching you open. "Look at him.." he growled raspily. Deeper. Softer. Stack's hand latched around your jaw, forcing your half lidded gaze toward Smoke, his gaze was seductive, and possessive. "There you go, you feel that? You takin' me in.." He talked you through it. Your pussy clenched tighter, his veins pulsating inside.

This sweet torture? His voice, and that monster that hung between his legs, you took him in. “Such a good girl,” Smoke groaned, grunting at every stretch of you. Stack watched your reaction, gasping softly, as your hands rested on his shoulders, fingers dug deep. Smoke lifted you, and slamming you down onto him, allowing you to ride him, breathlessy moaning. “Elijah!” Your ass pushed up to meet each thrust——merciless, and deep, you left fresh marks on his brown skin.

“I love it when you say my name, can I hear more?” Smoke praised, pushing upwards to hit your G-spot. You cried out, your voice raspy, and you bounced—quick, ruthless. “You like this, Eli?” You whispered, tongue trailing along the shell of his ear, biting him. His eyelids closed shut, biting his bottom lip, surpress a moan. Your ass clapped against him, fucking him. Smoke responded by grunting through it, fucking you right back—like a bully. He wasn't gonna show it but the little sounds he made were proving enough. “Damn, girl,” he said dreamily, nodding to your command.

Your thighs burned in exhaustion from bouncing yet you kept going, as his pace quickened, his hips slamming violently. The impact rippled a feral scream from you, arching your back, Smoke bruised your insides, bruised your pussy from the inside, out. “Elijah! Ahhh! Shit!”Your stomach pooled with heat, those knots in the pit begging to untighten. Tighter. Tighter. “You wanted this? To be fucked like a slut huh?” he shot back while panting. He fucked you through it, your legs shaking between his waist, almost wrapping around.

“Yess! Fuckkk!” You slurred, your hips shaking yet you bounced. Your chin rested on his shoulder, falling forward as he moved your hips for you. “You can have us whenevea’, like this. We’re yours, Y/N.” his words were sweetly sexy. Your ears almost ring as if you couldn't barely make out what he saying, yet you nodded, whimpering. “You, and him..are all mine..” Your toes curl, pussy fluttering, your mouth waters on his skin, parting open. He didn't mind it, as his fingers slipped inside your mouth, your tongue swirling around them. Your mouth closed, humming.

“Cum..with..me..Eli..”

“You want that?”

“Fuckk..fill..me..up..”

With that, Elijah finished with a final, punishing stroke as his thick, warm ropes of cum shot inside you, filling you completely as the man bit your shoulder to hush himself from moaning, you screamed greedily, wildly as his dick twitched. Gradually pulling out, as your body shook.

“You two are so good to me..” You whined loudly, speaking with love for them, and they felt it.

Smoke tumbled over the edge of the edge, panting heavily, raspily, his head lying on the soft edge, eyes closing as Stack gradually rolled over, his knees pressed into the mattress. His face softened at you, as your gaze met his, needing him.

“You still ready for me, sweetheart?” Stack asked softly, and you nodded quickly with a lazy grin. He leaned in close, kissing you lovingly.

“All fours for me, baby..” Stack says, his fingers trailing along your chin. He flipped you on your hands, and knees, just before his hands clasped your waist tight. “Elias! Deeper!” He pushed his dick inside from the back, thrusting deep, and fast, violently. Your back arched just to feel the curve hit that spot, hips bucking into him. Stack darkly chuckling. “Can’t help yo’self? Fucking me back just to prove it to me?” Stack groaned lowly, his hand on the small of your back, pushing you down just to swivel his hips.

Stack drilling into you from behind, with his hand delivered a light smack across your ass that left a handprint, every thrust pushing you forward into the mattress, almost stumbling over until he caught you. “I got you, i'm right here..” he cooed, kissing the shell of your ear. Pussy clung to his dick. Swelling. “You ours. Ours to fuck. Our woman. Look at you, all greedy..” Stack snarled, teeth in your neck as if he were a vampire. Your feeble, raspy moans echoing mixing with Stack’s low groans, as he fucked you harder, and harder, pausing his pace just to fuck you deeper, as if he wanted to fuck you open. Hugging you tight as if you were to let go, kissing your skin lovingly.

“That pussy got a good grip to it.” Stack grunted, his pace unforgiving. He marked your asscheeks with his nails, and you hissed through it. You loved it though. “This pussy belong to us?” He asked, more demanding. A wet slap echoed in the air, loud, and obscene. “Yes! Yes! You & Elijah! I swear!” moaning as if you were dying from pleasure.

Your vision blurred by wet tears, your words turned gibberish, a tremor in your thighs spreads through your body. Your fingers went numb, tiny prickles spread across your hands gripping the sheets, turning pale. “You hear that? This pussy loves me..” He cooed, his hand smacking your ass again. “Say it back..”Your head tipped back from the immense pleasure, moaning the twins' names, a string of profanities, gibberish all at once.

The sensation was overwhelming, your breasts cupped by Smoke’s hands, nipples pinched by his fingers but them his fingers rubbed your cilt lazily. “T-this pussy..l-loves you..” Back arched lowly, ass in the air. Drooling over the pillow. You screamed out their names in between, jumbled together, you break apart. “I—” There was no point in announcing. Your pussy gushed hard all over on Stack’s dick—repeatedly after every punishing stroke, he moaned raspily with you. He shot his thick ropes of cum inside, as you were filled—fully, by both of them.

“Just like that..” You hummed, twitching as you blinked away tears, relishing in the feel of him.

Elias pulled out slowly as you slumped onto the bed, breathing heavily. You turned to face the men, your body tingling with pleasure and your core throbbing, while your chest rose and fell. The twins hovered over you, heads hovered over your face. Concern on their features.

“You good?” The men asked in unison, while one twin said, “I'm gon’ ran her a bath,” as Stack dashed away into your bathroom, and the faucet squeaked in the air.

“You need anythin’ else?”

“No. T-thank you, baby..” You said, as a faint grin spread across your face.

When you referred to baby, you were talking about Smoke & Stack, and they picked up on it fast.

“No problem!” Smoke & Stack both answered right back sweetly.

That alone made your heart flutter.

During the warm bath, you cleaned yourself up while the twins cleaned up the mess—fresh linen scented sheets, fresh clothes for you first, and them. The fan above the ceiling spun in lazy circles to keep the stuffy smell away, and some air freshener.

The men prepared an incredible dinner for you because they knew you would be hungry afterward. Without explicitly saying so, you applied lotion to your body and got dressed for bed.

You thanked the men, kissed them on the cheek, as the men kissed your temples, your face felt warmed, and then sat down with them at the dinner table.

You ate your favorite foods, shared jokes, and laughed together, you also sipped your beverage.

You concluded the night with Smoke & Stack, a mutual connection where they shared with you. Everything felt perfect, and you were content, just as they were with you. You wouldn't want to change a thing.

“We love you, Y/N.”

“Aww, I love y'all too!”

———————-

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

The Florist & The Baker

Pairing: Florist!Nanami x Black!Baker!Reader (Meet Cute/Slow Burn) 

Synopsis: In which you get a storyline straight out of a meet-cute romcom when Nanami, the quiet and stoic yet handsome florist who only comes into your bakery for coffee, asks you out on a date. 

Warnings: 18+ (MDNI); Non-Curse AU; Reader is Black & Fem; Friends to Lovers; Slow Burn Romance; Meet Cute Trope; Cheesy & Fluffy af lol; Fluffy Romance; Soft Dom!Nanami x sub!Reader; Public Sex; Greenhouse Sex; First Date Sex; 69ing; Nanami is an Eater; Deepthroating; Facefucking; Missionary + Doggystyle; Cumshot; Creampie; Aftercare

Word Count: 8.0k

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: I wrote this one shot about 2 years ago & wanted to revamp it for spring 2026! Nanami is WHIPPED in this one shot man. Like WHEN WILL THIS BE ME??? I’ve been having a brain rot over the concept of Florist!Nanami lately. It’s such a cute couple trend & I had to write some fluffy, Hallmark romance shit for it 😩 This one is also inspired by Nanami x Princess Tiana (whom I'll be writing about one day). It’s such a random ship but it’s so CUTE!! I hope y'all enjoy!! <3 -Jazz

Credits: Divider made by @rmstitanics! Nanami fanart above made by ushy_gushyy on Twitter!

It was a cool, rainy March morning when you met him for the first time. 

Your bakery, best known for its pastries and catering, always opens at 9 AM on weekdays to serve the sleepy-eyed crowd hurrying off to work or classes. You thought that day was no different. At the time, you were the only one working when the bell above the door rang. 

So you turned around in your work uniform of sneakers and an apron over a warm sweater and jeans. “Good morning!” you chirped in your usual bright tone of voice. “Welcome to…” 

The rest of your rehearsed sentence fell short when the man stopped to rub his boots against the rug near the door and take the wet hat off of his head. He was tall and extremely handsome like he just stepped out of a GQ Magazine to personally greet you. 

Under his hat laid a face card that could envy millions of men: a sharp jaw and cheekbones; a blonde undercut that somehow made him look older; brown eyes that twinged with annoyance before he looked at you, his expression softening somewhat. You had never seen a man so fine.

He put up a finger and pressed the Bluetooth earpiece in his left ear that you didn’t notice. “Pardon?” he asked, scowling at you. “Sorry, I was on the phone. Could you repeat that please?” 

And his voice! It was so deep and soothing. You could listen to him read a storybook or your bakery menu in that voice. Usually, you don’t thirst after customers, but you could admire them in secret, right? 

Realizing that he was waiting for an answer, you pretended to cough to stall yourself and act like you weren’t checking out the guy in the expensive wool coat standing behind the counter.  

“U-Uh, I was just welcoming you to Sweet Treats,” you quickly replied. “Can I interest you in our seasonal line of cookies and beverages for the spring?” You nodded at the menu sitting at the end of the counter among a glass display of flower-shaped cookies. “I recommend the lavender latte if you want something refreshing.” 

The man’s face twitched a bit, his brows narrowing at the menu. “Um, no thank you. I don’t do too many sweets, especially in the morning.” He cleared his throat, his eyes skidding from yours for a moment as if he was too anxious to look at you. 

“Can’t argue with that,” you giggled. “How can I help you today, sir?” The man looked up at the menu overhead before choosing a medium-sized latte and the breakfast sandwich on a croissant with egg white and pepper jack cheese, hold the bacon. “Excellent choice, sir!” you commented. “Our breakfast croissant is one of our most popular choices. That’ll be $11.09, please.” 

He slipped his wallet out and you watched curiously as he took a gold card out. American Express. ‘Oh, he must have money,’ you thought, oozing with attraction for him instantly. 

You took the card and thanked him before swiping it. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a card that looks like this before,” you chuckled. “It’s so heavy yet lightweight at the same time!” You read his name on the card: Nanami Kento. 

“Well, when you’re working the demanding job I do and own your own apartment, you need a card like that,” he wryly joked. “Everything I buy with it I pay it at the end of every month.” 

“I’ve never heard of such a card!” you said in awe. “If you don’t mind me asking, what is it that you do, sir?” 

The man gave you a funny look as if you just asked him if he was pregnant. “Um…I’m a florist,” he answered. “Sorry, I’m just not used to people asking me what I do. Conversation is scarce out there.” 

You hummed in agreement, handing him back his card. “I completely agree, but sometimes, it’s nice to just talk to someone.” He reached out to take the card, his fingers brushing yours as he did. His fingers were long and calloused. Maybe he played piano? The idea made your stomach excitedly flip for some reason. 

You coaxed him to have a seat and wait while you got his order, brewing the coffee before getting his sandwich out of the kitchen fridge to toast. As you did so, you heard him on the phone again, sounding irritated and frustrated with his coworker on the other line. So you did something to cheer him up: without him looking, you snuck a daisy-shaped sugar cookie into his to-go bag and then called his name from the desk. “Nanami!” you called, smiling at him. 

His head shot toward you and he got up, walking ever so elegantly toward you in his red bottom shoes. He took the bag from you, thanking you. “Sorry, but I don’t remember telling you my name,” he said. Fear struck you at first, thinking you offended him, but then you see a playful glint in his eye. 

“That’s because you didn’t,” you giggled sheepishly. “I forgot to ask, so I may have peeked at your Amex card. Please come again, sir.” 

Nanami’s orgasmic eyes looked into yours for a moment, his handsome face making it so hard to concentrate. “Nanami,” he corrected you. “Thank you, Ms. L/N.” 

As he turned around to leave with his breakfast, you pulled a face, wondering how he knew your name…and then you remembered your name tag and squeezed your thighs together. “Come again soon!” you called as he walked out into the rain, putting his hat back on his head. 

The rest of the day was filled with thoughts of Nanami. While unbeknownst to you, Nanami’s head swam with tortuous images of the pretty baker with the beautiful skin, gorgeous smile, warm personality, and hip-hugging jeans as he ate his daisy-shaped cookie, shivering in delight at the taste. 

Since that day, he has come in often. Sometimes in the morning, sometimes on his lunch break, but he always orders a coffee and you always sneak something sweet as a pick-me-up in his bag. Sometimes he leaves and sometimes he sits to sip on his coffee, only chomping down on your pick-me-up once he leaves. 

One day, a month later on a beautiful April day, he comes in during a lunch break when you and Yuki and Mai, your coworkers and friends, are taking care of the lunch rush crowd while Todo, Megumi, and Yuji work in the kitchen. 

Yuki ogles him as he walks in, extremely obvious and not trying to hide it from behind the counter. “Damn, he’s fine,” she whispers. “Who the fuck is that?” Mai walks past her with a tray of eclairs to replace beneath the glass displays. “Y/N’s very loyal customer,” she giggles. “He’s been in here almost every day to see her.” 

You are busy washing glasses when you see Nanami and you give him a nod and a smile, acknowledging his presence. He nods back, patiently waiting while you set up. “Really?!” Yuki gasps, gaping at you. “Y/N, how come you never told me you have a boyfriend now?” 

The kitchen doors open, signaling the arrival of one of the boys. “Who’s got a boyfriend?” Yuji curiously asks. “Here’s the fresh batch of peach cobblers you needed, Y/N.” You look down at the delicious pastries. “Thank you, Yuji, and no, I don’t have a boyfriend. He just comes in here often because he enjoys the coffee and ambiance!” 

You glare at Yuki who gives you a knowing look, her lips pursed. “Mmm, I bet it’s the ambiance, alright,” she purrs, bumping her hip with yours as she walks by to tend to the coffee machine. 

Then Nanami comes walking up while the girls giggle among themselves. You quickly straighten up and smile at the blonde. “Nanami, it’s good to see you again! What can I get you today?” 

The stoic blonde gives you another nod of acknowledgment, his coat open today to reveal his suit and tie. “You as well, Ms. L/N,” he says in his smooth-like-butter voice. “Just the usual, please. I have a meeting so I have to hurry back.” He checks his watch, looking quite pensive. 

“Sure thing,” you say and begin to fix up his pastry while you give Yuki his drink order. While you do, Mai walks past you, her apron replaced with a gorgeous red top and jeans, and gives you a kiss on the cheek. “Headin’ out for the lunch date, hon? Just be careful, okay?” 

The black-haired beauty turns and smiles at you. “Gotchu!” she calls. But then she pauses for a moment and smiles at Nanami. “Nice to meet you. I’m Mai, Y/N’s friend.” 

You could choke her as you watch Nanami’s ears turn red. With a giggle and a wink your way, she goes skipping out the door into the wonderful spring air. You sigh, busying yourself with heating up his sandwich. Nanami stands by the counter, the silence filled with the whistle of the latte maker and the hum of the microwave. 

He suddenly clears his throat, earning your attention. “Nice day for a date, I suppose,” he awkwardly says. He’s trying hard to make conversation. You giggle to yourself at his adorable awkwardness. “Agreed, but my date will probably be with my dog later. It’ll be beautiful weather for a walk.” 

The ding of the bell above the door rings, signaling the arrival of another customer. You look at Yuki and give her a wink, hurrying to finish making Nanami’s drink while she takes care of the customer. 

“So there are no suitable bachelors lined up for you right now?” Nanami curiously asks. You blink at him, shocked by the question. Quickly, he tries to backtrack. “I apologize if that’s too personal.” 

“No, you’re fine!” you hurriedly reply. “At least you’re not asking me what time I get off…which yes, that has happened before many times.” But if Nanami were to ask you this, you can’t say you’d say no. “Dating just isn’t in the cards for me right now with running a business and all.” 

Nanami nods, watching your hands move as you maneuver the foam machine for the top of the latte. “What about you?” You quip, smiling at him. “I’m sure a guy as handsome as you has a girl on his arm.” You expect Nanami to laugh at this, but he doesn’t. 

Instead, his frown deepens and you feel like offing yourself. “I-I’m sorry,” you gasp. “That was so inappropriate to say.” 

“Don’t apologize,” he interrupts you. “That’s very sweet of you.” A light, pink blush lightly coats his cheeks, making your heart flutter. “And no dating for me either, I’m afraid. My life is just too busy and demanding for such.” He pauses as if thinking and his eyes flick down to your hands. “But if anyone deserves a nice date in such nice weather, I’m sure everyone in here would agree that it’s you.” 

You stop and stare at him for a moment, shocked by his sweet words and game. You damn near burn his sandwich from spacing out because of his words, so much so that Yuki has to turn off the microwave because you don’t hear it beeping. You don’t know why Nanami’s compliment stuns you so much. It’s just a compliment! 

And then you realize it’s because of how genuine it is. You can tell he means it. You can’t deny the way it affects you as you finish his order. Your hands shake as you wrap up his sandwich and secretly place a sun-shaped sugar cookie into his to-go bag. You give him a smile that you hope doesn’t wobble as you pass him his order. “Have a nice day, Nanami,” you softly say. 

He takes the coffee and bag, his hands lightly brushing against yours. You feel something explode within you from even the slightest touch of your fingers. You search his face, wondering if he felt it too. “Kento,” he corrects you. “You as well, Ms. L/N.” 

You nearly melt beneath his gaze. “Y/N,” you correct him. 

He gives you a small smile before heading off to work, taking the intoxicating scent of his cologne and your head with him. Yuki is the one who brings you back down to earth, carrying two iced coffees. “Oooh, that was sexy to watch,” she giggles. “Y/N, your man is such a man.” 

“He’s not my man,” you grumble, glaring at her. “Quiet and take the drinks to my customers, please.” She just laughs, skipping away while you attempt to gather yourself. 

Yuki’s joke unfortunately sticks: “Your man is here, Y/N.” 

This is what your coworkers began telling you and teasing you with once Nanami started showing up more frequently. He sometimes shows up on his lunch, chatting with people on the phone about orders from his florist shop, but it’s mostly in the mornings on the way to work. 

And every single time, you hope that he asks you out. But he never does. But even so, you look forward to seeing him again. 

So when Yuki, your fellow coworker, and co-baker says it again–“Your man is here again, Y/N”–you turn towards her and react like she just told you that there is a hundred-dollar bill under your shoe or like you’ve got a great ass. The blonde woman smirks from the side counter where she is fixing the pastry displays, not even looking up when the bell above the front door rings. 

It is a beautiful day in May, blue skies and sunshine with a pleasant 70-degree breeze. You were happy to start your day this morning because of the weather, but now, it just got even better. Nanami has ditched his coat for a simple yet sexy blue button-down, his zany tie, and slacks. 

He looks much better than you in your flour-dusted apron after baking bread before the store opened this morning. “Hi, Kento!” you chirp. “Oh, is this a friend of yours?” Behind him, he not only carries his briefcase but also an equally handsome, tall man with snow-white hair, blue eyes, and a kind of swagger you know has people’s undies dropping for him. The opposite of Nanami, it appears. Nanami looks like he dreaded you asking. “Unfortunately,” he sighs. 

The white-haired stranger moves beside Nanami and puts a hand out for a shake. “Hello, miss,” he greets. “Gojo Satoru, pleased to meet you. I’m a longtime friend of Kento’s. We go waaaaay back.” You look at Nanami who looks like he wants to die. “Nice to meet you,” you laugh, shaking Gojo’s hand. 

Gojo gives you another Colgate smile. “Kenny has told me so much about you, you know,” he teasingly says, earning a death stare from Nanami. “Oops, shouldn’t have said that! Here, Ken, you take it from here. That cobbler has my name on it.” He strides over to the glass display of pastries and baked goods, leaving you both alone. 

Nanami gives you an apologetic look but you giggle it off. “So how’s it going today? Can I get you anything?” You mentally prepare to get his usual order ready, but he shakes his head and fixes his tie, looking nervous for some reason. “Uh…it’s going well and no, I’m in a hurry, but…I wanted to give you these.” 

He then slowly takes his arm from behind his back and reveals a bouquet of the most beautiful and bright red, yellow, and pink tulips you’ve ever seen wrapped in paper. For you. “Oh!” you gasp, placing a hand on your heart. “Oh.” He hands them to you over the counter, much to the prying eyes of your friends and other customers in the bakery. 

“They’re from my shop,” he explains despite you not even asking. “I wasn’t aware what color you liked, but I figured bright ones couldn’t hurt.” 

He gives you a sheepish, nervous smile which is quite a sight from such a stoic and calm man. You gently stroke one of the tulips’ soft petals and inhale the sweet perfume of them. You can’t remember the last time a man surprised you with anything, let alone flowers. 

You are touched and absolutely floored for him. “I love them, Kento,” you whisper. “Thank you.” You give him a smile which he crookedly returns. “You’re welcome…and I also wanted to ask you something.” 

“Okay,” you say because what the fuck else can you say? He leans over the counter, giving you a whiff of his cologne. It has you thinking about him doing very naughty things with you over the counter. 

“I know you said before that your life makes dating hard and whatnot, and I’ll completely understand if you say no, but…my friend recently mentioned to me that I shouldn’t let good things pass me by, so…” 

His eyes shift to Gojo who is sipping on a lavender iced latte and giving him a thumbs up, not even trying to act like he isn’t listening. The florist turns back to you, his cheeks pink. “I was wondering if maybe you’d like to have dinner with me one day?” It’s meant to be a statement, but it comes out as a question. 

You stand there stunned for a moment, your brain moving slowly. You’ve been waiting for so long for him to ask you out and now he is! Nanami takes your silence for a no and visibly withers. “Forget what I said,” he sighs. “Please. That was so stupid of me. I’m so–” 

“Nanami, I’d love to,” you quickly reply, breaking out into a huge, dumb smile that hurts your cheeks. “Is Friday night okay? I get off at 7 PM.” The florist looks shocked and then his face softens with relief and happiness. “Friday at 7 sounds perfect.” 

Your stomach flutters with butterflies as you stare at him, clutching his flowers close to your chest. “Did ya ask her yet, Nanami?!” Gojo shouts from the other side of the room. 

Nanami sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, I have to go take him out back and shoot him. Is it okay if I call the bakery?” You giggle at his joke but then give him a crooked smile, staring at him beneath your lashes. “It would….but I think having my number would be better, don’t you?” 

The florist stares at you, shaken by the flirty little line you threw. But it works! You end up getting Nanami’s number instead and putting a little flower next to his contact. Just so he doesn’t waste your or your staff’s time, Nanami orders an iced latte and gives you a bashful smile when you take it from him. “I’ll see you Friday then.” 

You nod and watch him leave with Gojo. Mai comes up behind you along with Yuki, both girls having watched everything go down from behind you. “Smooth, Y/N,” Mai whispers. “Very smooth.” 

For the rest of the week, you anticipate Friday night for your date with Nanami. You plan your outfit according to the weather, shave your legs and kitty beforehand, and smile at your tulips every morning when you wake up, reminded every morning of what is to come. 

But then you get a cold. Spring is good for most things, but immunity? Fuck no. 

You go in on Friday morning anyway, snotting, sneezing, and your voice scratchy. Yuki and Mai scold you two hours into your shift, snatching your apron from you. “For God’s sake, Y/N, just go home!” Mai snaps. “You sound awful! We can handle the bakery without you for a few days until you get better.” 

Yuki nods, helping you get into your jacket and passing you an extra box of tissues for the road. “And no sucking faces with the hot blonde man till you get rid of this cold.” 

So you go home and immediately hit Nanami up while lounging on your couch in your sweats and slippers, your nose stinging from blowing it so much and your throat congested. This is the first time you’re calling him and you feel nervous. Your heart pounds with every ring from the other line, but when he finally picks up, you just about melt. 

“Hello?” He asks, his deep, silky voice filling your ear. “Hi, Nanami, it’s me,” you say, cringing at your sick voice. “I’m so sorry to do this, but you think we can take a rain check on that date? I’m sick.” 

“Of course,” he says, sounding concerned. “Just remember to eat and rest up, okay? I recommend lots of herbal tea too.” You feel your heart burst at his advice and worry for you. “You would recommend that,” you giggle, crossing your ankles on the couch. “Any ones I can use for medicine?” 

Nanami is happy to tell you. “I don’t think you’d need it, but honeysuckle flowers work for coughs and sore throats.” You nod and lay your head back against the couch, listening to him, falling in love with his voice. “Tell me more,” you whisper. “I-If you’re not busy.” 

His light chuckle makes you throb between your legs. For the next twenty minutes before he’s forced to leave due to his duties, he tells you all about plants and flowers which somehow leads to you talking about your favorite things to do, hobbies, foods, etc. When you finally hang up for the day, all you want is to talk to him again, so you hurry to get better. Nanami checks on you every single day which only makes your attraction to him grow. 

When you return back to work a week later, finally free of your cold, you’re welcomed with big hugs and a gift package complete with a coffee mug, fuzzy socks, tea bags, chocolates, and a gift card to your favorite store. “It was my idea!” Todo proudly says. 

“Mine too, you big bitch!” Yuji snaps. 

“I bought the gift card since these two were broke,” Megumi says. 

You laugh at the boys, hugging each of them. “That’s so sweet, guys,” you coo, hugging the gift package close to you. You begin to walk to the back to set your things down in the employee lounge, but you stop. There, on the counter, sits a bouquet of beautiful, vibrant azalea flowers. 

You walk up to the flowers, your heart skipping a beat. “Did you guys get these too?” you ask, pointing at the gorgeous flowers. Yuki shakes her head, much to your relief and joy. “No, these were delivered this morning. There was no ID; just a tag that said ‘The Greenhouse on the Hill’.” Nanami’s flower shop. 

You break into the biggest smile you have ever made. That afternoon when you return home with your gorgeous flowers, you set them on the kitchen counter and hit Nanami up, already anticipating the sound of his silky, sexy voice. Four rings go by before he actually answers. “Yes?” he asks, sounding somewhat irked. 

Your stomach drops at his shortness. “Hi, Nanami…is this a bad time?” 

“Shit,” he sighs apologetically. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t even look at your contact. The shop has been so busy with Mother’s Day coming up and all of these fucking spring weddings, excuse me language.” 

“I get it,” you giggle, leaning against the counter. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you cuss though.” And it’s fucking hot. “I got your flowers today. Thank you.” 

“I’m just glad they came on time,” he says, relieved. “I was so sure they’d get there later in the week…and you’re welcome. I was hoping it’d make up for us missing our date.” 

You gently fiddle with one of the flower petals, biting your bottom lip. “I also wanted to call you about that,” you shyly begin. “Since we didn’t go on our date and I’m still building up my immune system since my cold, why don’t I invite you over to my shop and I can cook you something?” 

Nanami is quiet for a moment and you begin to think that you may have suggested something dumb. “You haven’t been to my shop yet,” he states. 

Not waiting for an answer, he continues: “Instead of me coming there, why don’t you come here and I can cook you dinner? As you said, it’d be better to stay away from other people since you’re building your immune system back up and…” He stops abruptly. “Sorry,” he chuckles sheepishly. “I’m rambling.” 

“It’s okay,” you giggle despite him blushing on the other line. You are just as bashful, feeling warm all over at the thought of Nanami cooking for you and visiting his shop. “I like that idea, Nanami. I’m good with this Friday night if that works for you.” 

“Perfect,” he sighs. “I’ll pick you up at the bakery at 7.” You hang up and giddily fix yourself some wine, unwinding after a day of business. 

As the week goes on, you wait impatiently for Friday to make its appearance. When it finally does, you hurriedly change in the bathroom at work, do your makeup, and slip into a sundress that makes your skin pop, flats, and a jacket for the pleasant May air. When you step out, Mai and Yuki gape at you. 

“Oooh, you look so good, Y/N!” Yuki exclaims. “Blondie ain’t gonna know what hit him! He’ll be dying to eat you instead of–” 

“Hush!” you bark. “This is our first date, Yuki. I don’t do that on the first date.” You turn away to apply some more lipgloss to your lips, making your lips look extra plump and appetizing. 

“Ugh, not that shit!” Mai huffs, giving you a sharp look. “If you two like each other and are attracted to one another, who cares?! You should see the way he looks at you, Y/N! It’s like he’d bend you over the counter and fuck you if we weren’t here.” She gives your ass a squeeze in your sundress. 

“I’m shutting this convo down now,” you firmly say, batting her hand away. “Nanami and I like each other, yes, but we’re taking it slow. I wanna get to know him until we–” 

A knock on the door cuts you off and you turn, finding Nanami standing there. The girls laugh among each other as you race to the door. “Both of you, shut up!” you hiss before opening the door. Your date looks absolutely fuck worthy in a black polo shirt, tan slacks, and dress shoes. Very casual yet still sexy. “Hi, Nanami!” you chirp. “M’ready now.” 

“Have fun, you two!” Yuki shouts once you fetch your work bag. “Y/N, be home before dark, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” 

You ignore her and leave with Nanami, stepping out into the warm air. Nanami looks adoringly at you under the street lamps. “You look really nice,” he shyly says. You let the compliment wash over you, flattered. “It’s only a short walk from here,” he says. “Just follow me.” 

Nanami’s floral shopreally is a short walk from your bakery. You can’t believe you’ve never seen him around before with how close your places of business are. It is a quaint little white store with planted flowers blooming along its windows and along the steps you walk up with Nanami. In the back is a greenhouse that which he leads you to. He takes a ring of keys out and unlocks the door before flicking on the light. 

Your eyes widen at the dozens of flowers, plants, and herbs surrounding the large glass greenhouse. You step into the warm, toasty greenhouse, smiling from ear to ear. “Wow, Nanami!” you gasp in awe. “This is beautiful! You planted all of these yourself?” 

The florist closes the door and steps beside you, trying to hide his prideful smile. ”From scratch. I can give you a tour if you want.” He offers you his elbow and you waste no time taking it, his cologne making you dizzy. “Please,” you reply, soft and breathless from him being so close. 

For the next twenty minutes, Nanami introduces you to his many flowers and plants, telling you which ones are meant for which holidays and occasions; what colors go best with certain bouquets; what flowers match certain personalities, etc. You try to listen and learn, but you’re so wrapped up in how sexy his voice is that you find yourself thinking of other things. 

When he finally realizes how long he’s been talking for and blushes as bright as the roses you stop in front of. “Sorry,” he sighs. “I’m rambling again.” You shake your head, gently stroking his arm. “Don’t be sorry. I like listening to you speak. You’re so passionate about this and it’s obviously something you love.” 

Nanami’s gaze shifts and the way he looks at you now feels intimate and tender. It fills you with tingles all the way down to your toes. “What?” you exhale. 

He looks as if he wants to say something, but he decides not to. “Nothing,” he says. “We should eat before the food wastes. I have wine too.” 

He has you wait while he goes back to the shop and comes back minutes later with a blanket that he lays on the floor and a picnic basket. Inside lies two wine glasses, a chilled wine bottle, rice balls, homemade salad, and for dessert, one of your famous crème brûlées from your bakery. 

“I came in early before you got there,” Nanami explains as you gape down at the cake. “I wanted to surprise you.” 

You swear you could kiss him. 

The dinner is straight out of a Disney movie. The food is delicious, the wine is refreshing and loosens you both up, and the conversation is even better. You and Nanami sit next to each other on the blanket, shoes off and completely at ease. 

You chat about your likes and dislikes; your favorite movies and most embarrassing moments. You find that Nanami is very funny is an unintentional way and whenever you joke, you find yourself falling in love with his laugh. 

By the time you get to dessert, half of the wine is gone and you’re ready to jump him every time he dips his spoon into the sweet French dessert and wraps his lips around it to slurp up the treat. Once he finishes, he sits back and exhales, full. “Wow,” he sighs. “That has to be the best creme brûlée I have ever had. You have quite the gift, Y/N.” 

You make a noise between a grunt and a laugh, modest and shy from such a compliment. “You don’t think so?” he asks, looking honestly hurt by the idea. “You should. You make people happy with what you make them, even if it’s just a simple coffee. You put such love into your business and it shows. Your personality makes it even better. I would bet people keep coming back for that…such as me.” 

His eyes are tender and genuine, his smile even more so. You finally cannot fight off the effects of him or the wine anymore and move in closer to him. He watches you, not moving a muscle as you strip off your jacket to reveal the spaghetti straps and your bare shoulders underneath. 

“Kento,” you softly say. “I really want you to kiss me.” 

The florist scoots closer to you until your knees are touching. “And I really want to kiss you,” he replies. His eyes flicker to your mouth, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he gulps. 

“So do it,” you whisper, barely speaking; just exhaling. And then, finally, his lips find yours. 

His kiss is just as magical, careful, and sweet as he is. He lets you take most of the lead, his hands settling respectfully on your waist. But you want more. Need more. So you make it known by placing a hand on his cheek and deepening the kiss, leading to a full-on passionate, heated make out session that has your head spinning and toes curling. 

Nanami’s lips leave yours to plant feverish kisses on your neck and throat. You tilt your head back, welcoming the kisses and embracing him as you do. He does the same to you, your smaller body encased in his bigger, more muscular one. It feels good—so good that you can quickly feel your panties becoming uncomfortably wet. “Kento,” you whine. 

He gets the message and kisses up to your ear. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do,” he whispers. “I won’t go any further than you want me to. Just tell me what you want, sweetheart.” His teeth lightly nibble at your ear, drawing a soft whine out of you. 

“I want you,” you moan. “I want you to fuck me right here.” He pulls away, shocked at the dirty request coming out of you. You place a hand on his thigh, squeezing it gently. “Please,” you add, batting your lashes at him. 

Nanami places a hand on your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your bottom lip. “How can I refuse a thing as pretty as you?” He asks himself. You nearly suck him off right there and then. 

Minutes later after agonizing foreplay, your spell works on Nanami and you find yourself out of your clothes and only in your panties with the handsome florist on top of you. His soft lips are attached to your nipples, sucking gently yet eagerly at the hardened, brown peaks while you moan and writhe beneath his touch. 

His hands idly play with your sides while yours are sunk in his scalp. “Mmm, Nanami,” you moan, your fingers in his blonde hair. “That feels so good. I should’ve known a florist would be so good with his hands, but his mouth too?” 

Nanami loves how you sound moaning his name. You can tell by the hard-on you feel pressing against your inner thigh protruding from his slacks. He removes his lips from your nipple, greedy eyes staring up into yours. “You haven’t seen how good I can be yet,” he growls into your ear. “But only if that’s what you want.” 

You already know what he wants and you can’t express him how much you want more with your words. You hope your body––your hard nipples, labored breath, and wet pussy pressing against his thigh––say what you can’t. 

“Is that what you want?” you softly ask. The blonde shocks you by taking your hand and boldly placing it on his hard dick. You softly gasp at how big he feels in your hand, the shaft thick and pulsing in your palm. “What do you think?” He whispers, obvious, molten lust in his eyes. 

That is all you need to hear. Immediately, you grab him and kiss him passionately, emitting porn-worthy moans from his lips that travel into yours. I want your clothes off too,” you softly exhale, earning an agreeable groan from the blonde. Your hands yank and snatch at his clothes, helping him out of his shirt and pants. You work together to strip him, laughing as you do and sharing heated kisses. 

Nanami is truly a sight to behold naked. He is a beefcake but he isn’t a gym rat. His arms are big and toned, perfect for wrapping you up in. His pectorals are juicy and squeezeable, sinewy with a sexy cluster of blonde chest hair that matches his toned lower stomach that you want to lick and kiss. You do so, kissing up his luscious physique while he gives you encouraging moans and sighs like a touch-starved man. 

His lower half is just as impressive: a firm ass, toned thighs and legs that could crush some skulls, and a V-line that traces down to the promised land. You ogle at his hard cock print in his briefs, your hand moving to grab it. Nanami’s bottom lip catches between his teeth, his eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of your warm hand on his shaft. 

“I want somethin’ else to,” you whisper. He raises a questionable brow. “Can we 69?” You suggest, running one hand up his chest while the other palms his dick. The florist opens his eyes and gives you a shocked look like you suggested you do some crazy BDSM shit on the first date. 

Before you can take a breath, Nanami is lying down on his back and gripping your hips to force you on top of him. You squeal with laughter, delighted by his eagerness and his strength. “I’ll take that as a yes!” You laugh as you place your hands on his chest and situate yourself. 

You look back at him, finding his lustful eyes peering up at you from behind. “I’m not much of a man of words as I’m sure you know, darling,” he says. “I’m better with actions.” He then pulls your panties to the side and proceeds to slurp you up like you’re the first meal he’s had all day. 

“Oh, Kento, fuck!” you moan, unable to hold anything back. You grind your ass back into him as his lips and tongue dance across your clit and sodden wet pussy, taking his time getting to know you. “I thought you said you wanted to 69,” he murmurs, his voice slightly muffled by your cunt. 

His cock switches impatiently in his briefs and you giggle.  “Yes, sir,” you hum, already working to push his briefs down his waist. His cock pops out from its trap and gently slaps against his stomach, hard, thick, and veiny. 

You could stare at it all night, but all you want to do now is touch and taste it. So you wrap your hands around his shaft and stroke, pump, slurp, and spit to your heart’s content. 

Nanami grinds his hips up into your touch as you pump him in time with your mouth, enveloping him with your lips and tongue. You encourage him to do so, moaning out tiny “mmm-hmm”s while you eagerly bob your head, sending vibrations throughout his shaft that travel up his body. “Shit, darling,” he gasps. “That feels fuckin’ amazing.” 

Hearing him be so vulgar makes you gush into his mouth, excited by this calm man losing his shit for you. You don’t blame him. Seeing your pretty nails and brown skin contrast with his complexion while your fingers stretch around his cock shiny with your spit is doing things to you too. “Yeah?” you coo. “You like fuckin’ my throat, Ken?” 

You put it on him once again, gagging all over his dick much to his enjoyment. “God!” he gasps, his toes curling and his hands gripping your ass. “That’s just not fair.” 

He lets his actions elaborate on that instead of his words, going back to slurping down your pussy and distracting you from your work. Feeling your body shake and shudder makes him chuckle, proud of his skills. 

After a couple of minutes of enjoying this position, Nanami gladly spending time between your soft thighs and you giving him as much neck as he can take, you finally can’t take anymore of it. You throw in the towel and look back at him, mouth coated in spit. “I need you, Kento,” you whine. “I need you to fuck me please!” 

You feel his cock twitch at your plea. He doesn’t hesitant to remove himself from your pussy, instead giving you all of his attention. “How do you want it, darling?” he asks. “I’ll give it to you however you want.” 

You choose to be on your back first. Nanami obliges and helps you off of him to lay on the blanket. You wrap your arms around him, kissing him as he hikes your legs up around his waist. And gently, gently, places himself inside of you. The tiny act of his head sliding inside of you is enough to emit a gasp from the both of you. His eyes meet yours, concern in them. 

Though it is a stretch after not being with anyone for a while, it feels good and you let him know by grinding your hips up into him. His handsome face screws up like he’s in pain, his lips parting on a silent moan. “More,” you whisper. “Give me more, Kento.” 

How can he possibly deny you? Placing his hands on either side of you, he leans down onto his elbows and begins to slowly rock his hips into you, driving his cock into you inch by inch. He keeps his eyes locked on yours as you take him, watching you react to his thick cock filling you up. “Look at me,” he demands. “Look at me while I fuck you.” 

You do so, forcing yourself to keep your eyes on him despite the blinding pleasure you feel when he really begins to fuck you. He grips your hips to bring you closer to him as he drives himself into you, plunging his cock in and out, in and out. Moans and gasps leave your lips, your nails digging into his shoulders and your heels pressed into his ass. 

The more he fucks you, the more your pussy gushes for him. He must feel what you’re feeling too because his hips begin to stutter and his cock grows harder inside of you. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he huffs, his last threads of self-control leaving him. “But I can’t help but want to fuck you harder. You look too goddamn perfect bouncin’ on my cock like this.” 

The use of those lewd, filthy words coming from calm, cool and collected Nanami nearly has you gushing. “Do it then,” you urge. “Be rough with me, Kento. It’s okay.” You smile up at him, cupping his handsome face in your hands. “I trust you.” 

That’s enough to break him. Pressing a fierce kiss to your lips, he looks you dead in the eyes and slowly, agonizingly rolls his hips down into yours. “Tell me how you want it,” he growls against your lips. “Tell me how you want me to take this pussy.” 

You tell him just that and he gently pulls out of you before helping you onto your wobbly hands and knees. “Face down, baby,” he orders, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “I want you exactly like this.” You do as he desires, pressing your face against the blanket while your ass is tooted up in the air. 

Nanami doesn’t hesitant to slide home inside you once more and grips your hips as he begins to nail your shit…and I mean, nail it. The man hits that spot again and again, sending you careening into bliss over and over again, your pussy gushing and shuddering around his merciless, thick cock. 

“God, Kento, yes!” You whine. “Yes, give it to me just like that! Fuck yes, yes, yes!” Your moans mix with his, bouncing off of the greenhouse walls and creating a symphony of pleasure that only the flowers and plants are privy to. 

“You like it like this, darling?” He pants from behind you. “You like gettin’ fucked just like this?” 

You nod wordlessly into the blanket, your hands gripping the fabric while he uses your ass as leverage to pull himself forward again and again, pistoning himself inside you. You’ve never been fucked like this before: so eagerly and greedily. He needs this just as much as you do. 

The fact that he wants you just as much as you want him just about makes you break. You can feel that knot in your core about to snap, your pussy shuddering and fluttering around his pistoning cock. “N-Nanami,” you whimper. “Baby, I’m gonna cum soon. Y-You’ve gotta slow down!” 

“Why?” Nanami pants. “Why slow down when I’m about to make such a pretty pussy cum all over me?” He does slow down enough to lean down to whisper in your ear. “I want you close to him,” he coos, pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear. “I want to feel you when you cum.” 

You smile, delirious with the pleasure but coherent enough to want the same thing. He pulls you flush against him, his front against your back, and begins to fuck you from behind again. His moans and grunts fill your ear while yours bounce off the walls the more intensely he fucks you, one hand on your breast and the other on your ass. “Play with that clit,” he demands. “I want you to cum with me.” 

You whimper and whine as you do as he says, your fingers frantically rubbing your clit in time with his pounding. It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to rise along with his. Your mouth falls open and you toss your head back, thrown into the throes of pleasure. “Kento!” you moan. “Fuck, I’m cumming!” 

“Me too,” he grunts, gripping you as close to him as you possibly can be. “Cum with me, darling! Give it to me!” 

The desperate grunt he lets out as his own end nears throws you over the edge. You loop an arm back around his neck to pull him closer as you finally cum all over his cock. His own orgasm is triggered and he cums right after you, his body tensing as his orgasm zips through him. 

Moans of your release mingle in the air as you both climax, but then are silenced as you share a heated, passionate kiss with tongues included. Your pussy spasms against his cock, twitching and gripping him tightly until your orgasm finally fades, leaving you with a satisfied, beaming grin on your face. 

Once your high fades, Nanami pulls out of you with a soft moan, releases you, and slowly lays beside you on the blanket. You cradle one another, arms and legs loosely tangled with one another as you stare up at the glass greenhouse ceiling. You look up at Nanami, your eyes drinking in his body coated in sweat and the afterglow. 

You just had sex with a man on the first date. You find yourself not regretting it at all. Nanami, catching you looking at him, turns to you and gives you a crooked smile. “What a way to end a first date,” he breathlessly chuckles. 

You take his hand in yours and press a kiss to his knuckles. “And start many more,” you add, smiling up at him. 

The smile he gives you is one that makes you so happy that you met him and he presses a soft kiss to your hand as well. “Definitely.” 

THE END. 

[tonycries]

Internet Girl - C.K.

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-

Plagiarism not authorized.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

BRO I’M BOUT TO N*T OVER THIS!!

BOUT TO OUTLINE THESE PORN STAR!JJK MEN IDEAS I GOT 🫠🫠

[thebumblebeesworld]

GETTIN’ • IN • THE • WAY

part one • 1920s!au annie x reader x smoke

summary: elijah belongs to annie, but what will she do when she finds out that her man is splitting his time with another woman? tension boils over into lust, and bodies crumble as bonds forge themselves.

cw: smut, domme!annie, sub!smoke, domme!reader, knife!wielding!annie, lil mommy!annie, sweet!soft!whining!smoke, edging, deception, degradation, fight for power/dominance, alcohol/smoking, use of the nword

a/n: hey y'all! i been lowkey MIA recently-- i'm gonna be moving soon to start grad school in the fall, so i've been doing a lot of traveling and preparation for that! this is gonna be in two parts because it was starting to get rreallyy lengthy. also! this was adapted from a request + subsequent comments by @nysrevenge. this is also inspired by jill scott's gettin' in the way! ok bye-

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hips swung with might through the aisles of Maybelle’s General Store. Cans clattered around the shop, babies wailed as mothers consoled their tears, folks shouted for the items they needed from the back; Feet landed heavily against wooden floorboards, and right outside the front door, some old fool sat whistling a tune only the elders could recall now.

To anyone else, it would have seemed like a regular day. The sun was high in the sky, clouds lightly streaking the pale blue with that early spring ease. But something was brewing in the swing of those hips.

The woman was tall and thick in that nubile way. Beads sat tucked between her cleavage and underneath the neckline of her blue and white gingham dress. It was slightly wrinkled from the leather utility belt she took off before making the walk into town, but nothing about her appearance gave unkempt. She looked astonishing: lips rosy, eyes bright in mischief, hair tucked away into delicate day-old plaits that swept her shoulders.

A bushel of greens occupied her right hand. A brown paper bag of cornmeal in her left.

She didn't really need anything today. She had enough cornmeal to last the season, and she got greens two days ago when Cornbread stopped by her home. She was on his rotation for a monthly trade. She'd give him salves for when he was working the fields during the hot months, and he'd bring her whatever crop was doing well at the time. So she had plenty of greens.

But it was ironic, because even though her kitchen was fully stocked, Cornbread was the reason she was here.

Her old friend had a nasty habit of running his mouth—especially when she'd successfully play off being coy. The woman would flirt and laugh at jokes and nudge him on the shoulder. It was never serious—from either party the woman supposed—but it always resulted in the answers she needed regarding the man she was actually serious about.

Smoke Moore had been in her life on and off for nearly a year now. He'd trample through her home on cold nights, lay up in her bed, feast on her body and allow her to ruin his—then he'd leave. It was routine, and if Smoke wasn't the one doing the leaving, then it was her. The arrangement was a no commitment sort of thing. They'd dance at jukes and flirt with their eyes across rooms and lay up under each other when they needed a taste of something familiar, but that was it.

Until she saw Smoke talking with another woman just last week.

It had been in town, at this very general store. She'd been in town to pick up an order from the Chow's when she saw Smoke Moore and some woman in the alleyway between Maybelle’s General and the tailor’s. His face was in her neck. Her hands were gripping at his back. Their bodies were far too close and far too familiar. It made her pulse react, picking up speed while her fists clenched tight. She and Smoke Moore were not serious, but she’d be damned if she was made a fool of in public. The seething woman wasn't sure who the girl was, but she saw the flash of a bracelet—gold-plated with a ruby gem—and committed it to memory.

Seeing as though Smoke, his brother, and Cornbread ran in the same circles, the woman buttered her friend up, batted her eyelashes, and readied herself for the truth to rain in.

She found out easily that you worked for Maybelle: cashier—and errand girl when needed. You were new in town but had very quickly wound yourself around Smoke Moore's finger. According to Cornbread, the two of y'all were smitten. He'd gone on and on about how pretty you were and how sweet—the sweetest besides you, Miss Annie, Cornbread had remarked with red-tinted cheeks. But she got a li'l dangerous side to her. I'm startin' to think Smoke got a type.

He'd laughed it off because he knew in grave detail about the pair's relationship. He knew that Smoke couldn't get enough of his Annie and all the sweetness she would give him, but the gruff man played it off as best as he could by being obtuse and indifferent. It had shocked Cornbread to find out about you for that very reason, but it wasn't his business. Smoke wasn't tied down to one woman, and as far as he knew, neither of the women thought that themselves either.

But Annie was fired up nonetheless.

She eyed you from behind a shelf, eyes trained on the way you moved. Your smile was bright and earnest yet dark in a way that stirred something inside of her: jealousy but not, intrigue but different. Your hips moved as wild as hers did, determined in each step to reach your destination. She couldn't seem to stop herself from admiring your body, her hairline breaking out into a sweat that she falsely attributed to the Southern heat. She pushed the feeling down as far as she could, but it held onto her in the form of a ringing in her lower belly.

She was supposed to be angry right now—not eyeing another woman’s body with what could only be described as lust.

Greens and cornmeal in tow, she strode up to the counter. The customer in front of her had just left, causing the door to open and that blaring whistle-tune to grow in volume before the slam of it dampened the noise. She tried to let her anger and determination lead her, but it just morphed into something she promised herself was only curiosity.

As the customer drifted away from the counter and out of the front door, you allowed your aching shoulders to drop. A huff parted your lips, and you couldn’t stop imagining the clock striking the hour you were set to get off work. It had been a long, hot day, and your body ached. For rest. For reprieve. For something delicious and sinful to replace your fatigue with satisfaction. But there was work to be done, and as you saw a figure move in the corner of your eye, you locked back into your task.

"How my I help you," you smile softly, head rising as you felt the woman advance. Your eyes squinted as you eyed her body in the same way you didn't realize she'd done with you. You traveled from the crown of her head to the soles of her feet, taking your time appreciating her beauty and unknowingly raising her heart rate. Her hair was neat, edges curling from the humid air. Her beaded necklace worked to grab your attention, shifting as she set her items on the surface in front of you. Her gingham dress swayed with ease, thighs moving against the fabric from her wide gait.

You hadn't seen a woman this easily provocative in ages, and as much as you wanted to keep indulging in her presence, you knew you had to put your wayfaring eyes away for now.

"This all I got," she answered lowly, trying her best to push harshness out with her tone. But her accent fought against her. The distant essence of Creole rang like a song in your ears, drifting sweetness into your body even despite her shortness. Heat rose to your ears as you imagined hearing more words from her mouth, and when you met her eyes with a curious look, that was enough for you to know that you were done for.

She was staring into your soul, expression tight but eyes shining around the edges. The corner of her mouth twitched in a pout, and when her gaze drifted down your arm, landing on your gold-plated bracelet, her jaw clenched in an emotion you couldn’t yet name.

"That'll be 45 cents," you stated, moving behind you to retrieve a bag. You could hear the coins being slid across the counter, and when you turned back around, those big, brown eyes were locked on you once more. The woman's glare was narrowed taking you in in a way that felt full of both judgement and intrigue. Her gaze kept snapping back to your bracelet as you bagged her two items, and when you were done, she craned her neck to the side, looking at the swell of your breasts.

It felt like the two of you had been locked away in your own room, time seemingly frozen around you. You couldn’t pick up on the usual general store hustle and bustle—which was surprising to be accomplished because Maybelle’s was always loud. The rest of the world didn’t matter, just those eyes watching you like you held secrets that she was desperate to know. The look you gave her back was one of a lifted eyebrow and a slick smile that said you’d read her too well.

"I hope you have a wonderful day, beautiful," you hummed, sliding the bag toward her. You could hear the breath catch in her throat, and for a flash of a second, it looked like she had forgotten where she was—just as you had. Her chest rose quick. Her fingers twitched. Her throat bobbed as her mouth opened to let not even one sound out. You released a giggle at the look on her face, bottom lip caught between your teeth.

And before you knew it, she was gone.

The whistle from outside grew loud again as the door opened then shut. A baby cried somewhere distantly. A mothered shushed it soothingly. Cans scraped shelves at an incessant pace. The beautifully loud chorus of Maybelle’s returned to your burning ears, and the woman who had been in front of you just seconds ago loomed in the air and on your mind.

As you rang up customer after customer, you couldn’t stop thinking about her. Her skin was a deep brown, dress a dusty blue, cheeks flushing a dark red in the heat. You could have swore that she looked familiar in some minute or grand way. Maybe you’d seen her in town or somewhere with the younger crowd, but it bugged you for the entire rest of the day and long into the night.

Laying on your back in bed now, your gaze bore through the ceiling. Forehead scrunching and eye twitching in the dark, your mind ran wild.

I know her from somewhere, you thought to yourself, but it never fully landed no matter how long you envisioned her face and those big, brown eyes. Could be ‘cause of Messy’s, you pondered. Or Ada’s salon. Or from the train station.

It’s not like you had a large wealth of knowledge when it came to Clarksdale or the people who lived there. You’d moved into town a few months back, snagged a job from the owner of the local general store, went to work in the day and the occasional juke at night when things weren't too busy. But you hadn’t met many people aside from the twins.

The pair crossed your mind—hot as always.

Smoke and Stack were the first two people around your age who actually attempted to make your acquaintance in the small town. You were terribly new with nothing but working on the horizon, but when they walked into Maybelle’s one random Thursday morning, their attention locked hot on you. Stack was the most forward, talking your head off about how pretty your skin was and how feisty your personality was and how your eyebrow raising to question his motives had his heart thumping in his chest. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, the man was charming. But it was the other twin that brought you true intrigue.

Smoke was different from any man you’d met before. His solidity frightened you. His silence brought interest to the front of your mind. His eyes held a world of trouble—of secrets and pain—but when you flashed him a smile while his brother talked your ear off, you couldn’t deny the flash you saw behind them. It was a softness, a vulnerability, an offering of something that you wanted to dive into, and it didn’t take long to figure it out. A juke here and there, a kind word when he’d step into Maybelle’s—it all worked to break the air and space between you. A few nights later when he attempted to fold you up inside the backseat of his truck, he released a soft, wet gasp when you took control. And when your hand tightened around his throat and your body managed to over power his submissive one, those eyes flashed in the same exact way.

You didn’t often find a man that solid to the rest of the world but so soft under your dominant hands, so you fed the connection, brushed off the other twin who swore you wanted him, held Smoke close when he came to you in need.

But that still doesn’t tell you who that woman was. She was a beauty, and you could tell—even in her flustered state—she was a woman after your own heart: breathing with a dominance you wanted to meet head on. Those brown eyes stayed hot in your mind, and the view of her beaded necklace infiltrating her dress kept your body awake. You committed yourself to finding out who she was because whether you were familiar with her or not, she was definitely somebody you really wanted to get to know.

~~~~~

Come Friday, it was time for a night spent out on the town. Some fancy Blues singer was coming through the Delta and Messenger’s had snagged a couple of songs out of the musician. Clarksdale was abuzz with the news, and everybody and they mama had plans to dance so hard that they smelled like sweat, sex, and corn liquor. Folks put on they best dresses and dancing shoes, combed their hair into elaborate styles that would be ruined by the end of the night. But the most important part of the whole show was what you looked like when you walked in the building and who’s eyes would drift in your direction first.

You were going at it alone tonight. Stack had mentioned the function offhandedly, mumbling something about saving him a dance before the night was through, but Smoke had just nodded his head politely, eyes communicating more than words ever could.

You loved the casualness of your situation with the man. He was a friend—someone you loved to sneak off with and tell all of your business to about life before Clarksdale, someone you loved to hear tell his own stories when he was in the headspace to talk about the past. He was a lover—in many ways—someone who knew your body as you knew his, someone who caved under the weight of your control, someone who gave of themself in service of your needs, someone who trusted you to take care of all of theirs as well.

Everything was easy with Smoke. You didn’t care what he did outside of the time you saw him, and that worked better than anything could.

When you walked into Messenger’s, the heat of the building immediately engulfed you like a firm handshake or a hug from somebody too eager. It surrounded you on all sides, making you immediately grateful for your dress of choice. Heels landing heavy on hard floors, dress silks swaying with each dangerous switch of your hips, you commanded the room's attention. Heads turned your way as the piano thrummed in the background, and the smirk on your face only settled as you moved toward the bar.

"Lookin' mighty fine," Stack cooed in your right ear, leaning into your side as you took your seat.

"Thank you, Elias," you purred in his direction, bumping your shoulder against his.

The room hummed behind you, and with a drink in your hand now, you turned to face him. His eyes were dragging along your body, taking you in like he had every right to do so.

"When you gon' give me a chance, girl," he shook his head, licking his lips as he watched you down the contents of your glass. The chuckle you expelled showed just how ridiculous his question was, but he still didn't allow it to deter him.

"You know that ain't never happenin'," you giggled, looking behind you at the rest of the room. Folks were already dancing. Already gossiping. Already kissing. Your eyes almost immediately met Smoke's, and they blazed at you, shining in his special way. He raised his chin, greeting you subtly, cigarette between his lips clouding the air, and you smiled at him, short and knowing. "I don't fuck with family," you added on, facing Stack once more.

"Oh, please," he exhaled in hilarity, "Smoke wouldn't care, and I damn sure wouldn't mind."

"Stop playin'," you rolled your eyes, laughing despite yourself—because if Stack was going to be anything, it was going to be funny.

"I'm not playin'," he assured. His eyebrows raised and shoulders shrugged the more he went on. The dimples on his face deepened as he grew determined. "Between you and Annie, he get plenty of lovin'. You don't wanna share none of yo' time wit' me?"

"Stack," you warned with a glare, and the man just held up both hands, knowing you'd willingly tear into his ass if you were provoked enough. You liked Stack, as a friend only. He was fun and cute and a good time, but not in a romantic or sexual way. As fine as he was, he played too many games, and you liked your partners to have a certain decorum to them, and Stack Moore wouldn't know decorum even if it knocked him over the head.

After the initial annoyance wore off, your mind focused on what he'd said: between you and Annie... You didn't think Smoke was only fucking with you, you never had, but this was the first time anyone had ever mentioned another person's name to your face. Your stomach tightened in understanding. Your chin rose as the words settled. Annie, you thought, mind locking on each letter.

"Who's that," you wondered aloud, eyebrows knitted.

"Who's who," Stack countered, confusion written all over his face.

"Who's Annie, nigga," you sighed heavily, rolling your eyes.

"Oh," the man slapped his knee, laughing like was in on some joke that you weren't. His dimples grew impossibly deeper as you watched his mind run wild. When he rose his head and took an observant look around the room, there was no mistaking the way his eyes lit up quickly. His hand raised, finger pointing to a far corner, smile turning wicked. "That's Annie."

When your eyes followed the extension of his finger, you saw exactly the woman he was talking about.

Dark blue velvet enrobed deep brown skin, hugging curves and smoothly down her backside. Woolen hair sat delicately atop her head, swirled in a french roll and pinned in place. Jewelry flashed your eye, lamp light bouncing off of gold and beaming in your direction.

She was a beauty, and when she turned in your direction, swaying her body into the arms of the man you spent too many nights with to count, heat rose to your face.

Annie, you thought to yourself, reciting her name like a prayer for bright days. That woman from Maybelle's who moved like sin, spoke harsh like she believed the way it came out of her mouth, and flushed a deep red when you pressed her on it. She was the woman who you split time with loving on Elijah. It made your heart race in excitement, and your mind swirled with fantasies. She was grinding against Smoke in a corner of the room, back to his chest, head thrown behind and against his shoulder.

But just then, her eyes drifted open, and her head turned toward you, and a smirk brightened her face.

"She sexy ain't she," Stack whispered, too loud for it to actually be effective, but still, your head nodded affirmatively. As the woman's hand reached around Smoke's head, settling on the back of his neck, you could tell by the expression on her face that she was trying to show off. She looked smug, jealous, angry—and too damn sexy for you to tolerate.

Smoke's face was in her neck now, breathing her in. He appeared soft—softer than you'd ever seen him in public, even with you. His eyes were shining. His smile was bright. And that was what made your heart calm down its erratic nature, thrumming delicately, lovingly, in your chest.

"So," you hummed suggestively, stepping into the man's personal space. Your hand landed on his chest. Your chin rose toward him. "You and Annie," you began, causing a shy, goofy grin to take over his face, "y'all was real cute over here dancin'," you laughed, biting your lip as your stomach churned in excitement. "I ain't know big bad Smoke Moore could be all soft like that. She looks good on you."

"Yeah," he sighed breathily, gazing in the woman's direction with those soft eyes. She was at the bar now, waiting on her drink to be poured. When she had walked away, you took your chance, parading over to his lovesick side. He’d tried to hide it behind the smoke of a cigarette, but you could tell—of course you could.

Near the front of the room, the band kicked up into a new song, that fancy Blues singer taking center stage: dress hiked high, sweat barreling down her chest, voice coming out as a wailing groan from her belly. You nodded along to the music, hips tossing to each side.

“She means a lot to you,” you responded—more as a statement than a question, but the man answered with a slow nod. He took in your body at the same time, face growing hot as his eyes landed near your collarbone.

“You’d like her,” he whispered gruffly, barely rising over the height of the music and laughter around you. His eyes dragged between yours and Annie’s backside as she waited for her drink.

“And why do you think that,” you tossed your head back into a laugh, hoping to get him caught up, but the man quickly responded.

“Y’all similar in ways,” he shrugged like he hadn't thought about it before, looking down into your eyes like he wanted to engulf you—or wanted you to engulf him. Things always had a natural way of winding themselves up there between you two. “But y’all different in a lot of ways,” he continued. “I know you want more friends ‘round here. She’d be a good one.” His attention landed on a wall behind your head, bashful and unable to hold eye contact for much longer lest he cave too quickly.

“I believe you,” you smiled softly, deciding not to mention his shyness. You couldn’t resist taking another step into the man’s arms, one hand remaining on his chest as the other moved to the nape of his neck. His eyes closed at the sensation of your nails against his skin, and it made the most delicate whimper leave his lips. “I love you like this, baby,” you cooed, lips near his jawline. “She made you all soft for me.”

Smoke allowed his tongue to dart out and wet his lips as his hands tightened around the fabric of your dress. Head nodding in affirmation, he groaned delightfully. And at that, you couldn’t hold back your need to kiss the man any longer. His eyes had fluttered shut. His body had gone slack against yours. Leaning in, you edged yourself closer, hoping to land a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

But you were halted—something sharp poking you at the base of your spine.

“I’d hate to cut up this pretty dress,” Annie crooned in your left ear, pressing her chest into your upper back, “but you pushin’ up on my man, baby, and I don’t take too kindly to that.”

The way she said the words—all honeyed and seductive—made your pulse increase in desire, but the knife to your back made your heart pound in fear. The dichotomy was delicious. Pain and pleasure flooding you at once.

In front of you, Smoke's eyes snapped open, immediately shocked out of his dreamlike state. He saw Annie pressed against you, mouth to your ear hurling sweet threats; And he saw you, eyes rolling back at the feeling of the woman's dangerous temptation. He couldn't even allow himself to dwell on it as he grew worried about what Annie's anger would move her to do. He opened his mouth, hoping to stop her.

“Annie, don’t—”

“Your man?”

The question wasn't meant to be malicious, but it came out that way, followed by a chuckle of your own as you leaned further into her hold. You moaned quietly at the feeling of her knife, at how you could just imagine her seething face. In front of you, Smoke was wide-eyed and terrified in the best way, but you soothed him by that hand on his neck, toying with his hairline.

"Your man loves to spend his time up under me, beautiful," you provoked, gasping at the sharpness against your spine, back arching. The statement was proven when Smoke opened his mouth to whine beautifully, forcing Annie to deliver a shaky breath in your ear. "He mine, too, but I've always been one to share."

Around you, sickly sweet Blues rose the vibrations of the room. Piano keys fluttered. Guitar strings strummed. Singers delivered to onlookers songs about danger and sex and money and drinking. But the three of you were in your own bubble: Annie fighting against your easy dominance, you pressing against every bit of control she had, and Smoke falling victim to the both of you.

You turned in her hold, grabbing her wrist. Your back went into the man's chest, and as you fell backward into him, you brought Annie forward.

"Dance with us," you whispered temptingly, tone sensual and cadence dripping in a slow arousal.

From the time Annie had grinded her ass against Smoke to when she swayed over to the bar to when she pulled her blade out and pressed it into your skin, she could feel your energy. It was unmistakable: control, allure, and passion packaged up real pretty. She knew you were watching her, and that attention made her parade her body around just for you. Emotion prickled her skin—jealousy, hunger, and carnal need in a way she didn't fully understand. But she wanted to jump in, play with you, see just how far you would let her go.

That's why she rolled her hips a little harder into her man, pulling him into her neck to show you how badly he needed her. That's why she took extra long at the bar, sipping her drink nice and slow. And that's why her blade switched out, landing against your pretty back as she dared you to break.

But you didn't—wouldn't allow her that pleasure—and that's what intrigued her the most.

The three of you moved to the music in tandem. Smoke had found himself comfortable in your neck, head resting against your shoulder as you both faced Annie. Her eyes were blown with lust, only growing as her titties pressed into yours. She'd put the knife away for now, quickly falling into your ease. As dominate as she was, she couldn't help the need to obey, to please, to be good. Your disapproval-streamed face had done something to her body, made her fall in line.

Her pelvis rocked against yours, wide hips just as sultry as the song being sung. Every few seconds, she’d meet Smoke’s eye over your shoulder. With an eyebrow raised and a sharp nod of her head, she decided just how she would deal with him later. But in the arms of you two, she couldn't help but soften.

You hummed along to the tune with your eyes shut, but you could still feel the way Annie and Smoke stared at each other and all the emotion it evoked. Annie was angered yet trilled;Smoke was terrified yet hopeful; They were both aroused—all three of you were. Then you felt their holds on you tighten. They leaned forward over your shoulder, capturing each other’s lips in a kiss, and you couldn’t help but to allow your eyes to flicker open.

The sight had you throbbing, panties dampening the more Annie squeezed your waist and Smoke pulled you back against his growing need, softly rutting into your ass. Everything about it was vulgar. To have three people dancing and kissing on each other in public. But this wasn’t too terribly unusual for the setting. Folks loved to indulge. To relax. To have their heart’s desires met.

You continued to watch in awe as one of the woman’s hands captured Smoke’s throat, pulling the prettiest whine out of him. His cheeks reddened, but when she commanded him to kiss you, you both obeyed.

The night had been entertaining to say the least, but when it was over and the liquor had been poured and the music was played out, you landed a kiss to the corner of Annie’s mouth—the same one she'd stopped you from gifting Smoke what felt like forever ago—and you pulled yourself away from their hot bodies. The man's eyes were dazed, drunk off of the control and tension between you and the woman. But Annie looked angry, upset that you would dare stop her enjoyment so abruptly.

Amusement coursed through you, and a hand wrapped around hers to soothe her worry.

"Don't worry, beautiful," you chuckled, "we'll see each other again soon."

Before you drifted away into the night and back to the boarding house up the street, you kissed Smoke—full and on the lips like always. Because he was yours. And Annie was going to have to accept that fact.

Smoke was on his back, Annie with her knees pressed harshly into the mattress as her jaws opened wide to take him. His length slid over her tongue with each bob of her head, causing the man to thrash in the sheets. She’d been going like this for nearly an hour, guiding him to the edge of pleasure before completely pulling back to start the build up all over again. And he allowed it each time because who was he to complain?

Annie had complete control over his body, his pleasure, his pain. She decided when he’d get to feel that goodness wash over him, and until then, his nails were going to continue piercing the bedsheets while she took him down.

“I’m sorry, Annie,” he cried, moaning from her delicious torture. Her eyes remained locked on his, and as they stared into each other’s souls, Smoke could only feel the guilt fill him quicker. “I didn’t know she was gonna be there tonight, baby. I swear.” And that was a lie if ever Annie had heard one. Smoke knew—had known since Stack had asked you to save him that dance before the older twin’s eyes met yours. From that moment, he planned his night in detail. All he wanted was to get the two of you in one space and let the chips fall where they may.

As a result, he got to dance alongside you both and go home with Annie to allow her to wreck him.

But as he uttered the tall tale, the woman didn’t speak. Her mouth stayed wrapped around his dick, torment only increasing the more false information he let out. She knew him—inside and out—so she could tell the game he was trying to play. And before she allowed him to win, she had to at least deliver the cost of deceiving her—and you.

"I-I ain't mean to keep no secrets! I promise," he continued to avow, back arching himself off of the bed. Annie focused only on his tip, tongue swirling and cheeks hollowing. The sight of it was vulgar and obscene, so much so that the man had to shut his eyes to not cum. "She's a friend," he tried again, limbs shaking.

"A friend that you fuck, Elijah," Annie hurled his way. Her hand fisted his length, never allowing the pleasure to wane. The domineering woman shook her head in disbelief at the way his body was breaking in half. It made her want to lean in because as angry as she was, this is exactly how she wanted him: crumbling and crying—but begging for more at the same time. "You better be glad that I'm goin' light on your punishment, my love. I can't be too mad at you ‘cause she sexy as hell. And I want me a piece of that."

"Oh, fuck," he sputtered, jaw trembling. "Yes, please. I need that, Mama. I need that so bad."

"You gotta be a good boy to get that, 'Lijah, and I don't know if I can trust you." Rising from the spot she’d found herself, Annie leaned over the man's quivering form. Her face infiltrated his line of sight, eyes boring into him. "Can I trust you, baby?"

"Yes! Yes, you can trust me," he answered quickly, emphatically. Every part of his body felt like it was caving in and exploding all at once. Annie always knew how to hand out punishments, but with you at the forefront of both of their minds, something about this hit harder. He choked around his whine, begging for her mercy. "I can be good, Mama," he assured, and when he let the tear slip from his eye, the woman couldn’t help but to let him have it.

As his abs flexed and trembled, she planted kiss after kiss on his sweat-slicked skin. Lips traveling back toward his throbbing need, she whispered against the glistening tip before taking him again.

"Give it to me, baby," Annie cooed into the dim room, and Smoke's climax was quick to follow her command.

~~~~~

Maybelle’s General Store was packed. A shipment had come in a few days back, and it seemed like the whole Delta had caught wind of it. Folks from all over the county—and the neighboring ones—had traveled into town to get everything from dry goods to farming supplies. You worked from the top of the morning to way past the time that the sun was setting, but you did what you had to do to ensure that everything ran as smoothly as it possibly could. You had a bill at the boarding house to pay and a tab at Ada's salon that was calling your name.

Huffing deeply enough to stir the air, you wiped your hands on your apron. The last customer for the night was finally gone after perusing the shelves for what felt like hours but was only probably ten minutes. Everything felt more time consuming when you were this tired. Everything pissed you off when it got this dark and you were alone at work. Your coworkers had families, obligations outside of Maybelle's, so you kindly offered to close down. But every few seconds, your eyes rolled when thinking over the rest of your duties.

Your hands were deep in a shelf of canned vegetables, rearranging the mess that had been left, when you heard the front door open and shut swiftly. Out of view of the front, you immediately sighed at whoever foolishly thought Maybelle's was open at this time.

"We're closed," you shouted out, moving one last can. Footsteps pounded against the floorboards, slow and tempting—and annoying as hell. You couldn't tell what direction they were coming or going, and the person still hadn't uttered an apology and announced their leave, so you repeated your words again. This time, they were far more forceful, leaving little room to disobey. You didn't feel like putting up with anybody's shit tonight. You could feel your bed becoming far more tangible, and this person was keeping you from it.

"Did you not hear me," you grumbled once more. You trotted away from the shelf and down the aisle. The closer you got to the main area of the store, something in your chest grew. Something aching. Something tantalizing. Something familiar.

"Is that any way to talk to a payin' customer," the sweet, sultry voice spoke, and immediately you came face to face with none other than Annie. Her smile was smug, and she had a playful glint in her eye that made you want to indulge.

Sighing while dropping your tense shoulders, you moved to finish your duties behind the counter.

"Store's closed, beautiful," you remarked listlessly. Now that you knew who you were talking to, your body was able to calm down from its moment of anger. Your tiredness returned full force, and as much as you wanted to challenge Annie's energy, you just didn't have enough of yourself to give.

You worked in silence for a moment, the woman watching each of your exhausted movements. You were sluggish in a way she couldn't deny, and it caused her to grow sympathetic. You were yawning while counting money, sighing when you closed drawers, huffing at every turn.

All day, she worked up the nerve to travel into town. She had buttered up Cornbread again, successfully finding out which boarding house you were staying at, and in her mind, all she had to do was knock on your door and attack you as soon as you opened it. She hadn't been able to stop thinking about you: the time she’d seen you and Smoke outside of Maybelle’s; and that time she had you pressed between her and the man. When she wasn't focused on work herself, her time was split between thinking of you and Smoke. She didn't want to admit it, but it was true, and only becoming more factual with time.

With a pep talk to boost her confidence, she'd gained the courage to continue what the two of you had started that night at Messanger's, but when she saw you through the front window of Maybelle's, her plans shifted on the spot.

"How long you been here," she questioned softly. Her eyebrows worried, forehead creasing in a way that made you want to kiss her distress away. Even through your tiredness, you wanted her stress free.

"Since dawn," you answered anyway, knowing she wouldn’t let you slide with a lie. The confession was followed by another sigh as you remembered just how long it had been since you left your bed or had any good rest and food in your stomach. At this time of night, most shops and diners were closed, so you'd probably have to scrounge around for a small meal before bed. You had a can of beans in your room, a few scraps of cornbread from the night before. At the thought of eating, your belly made its frustration known, hunger peaking; The sound only made Annie's concern strengthen.

"Yeah, nah," she shook her head, already figuring the plans out in her head. She advanced closer, giving you your space while ensuring you understood her seriousness. "You comin' home with me," she insisted, not caring for the time of night or what she had original intended to do with you. "You’re starved and I can get some good food in ya'."

"Annie," you exasperated. You turned completely in her direction, hands falling atop the counter in your fatigue. "I'm ready to get in the bed. And by the time I get done eatin,' I'm not gonna be comfortable walkin' back alone. And don't you hate me for takin' yo' man?" You cocked your head to the side in a weird mix of confusion and annoyance and adoration. Annie responded to your look with one of her own, looking at you like are you finished now?

"First of you,” the woman replied with a groan, “you can stay with me tonight. I got a cot in the front room with your name on it if you want it—" And there’s space in my bed if that won’t do, she thought to herself, wanting to add it on to the tail end of the statement, but she refrained, hoping the night would play out organically. "And second of all," she breathed from her gut, "I don't hate you."

"Mhm," you pursed your lips, ignoring the earlier comment about staying over. You doubted the truth of her words because there’s was no way she hadn’t despised you. After realizing the mysterious customer was the same woman Smoke spent time with, you fully understood why her behavior had interested you so. She’d come into Maybelle’s that day because she knew who you were, finding out about you before you found out about her. Whether she intended you harm or whatever was still left up for debate. But you could still feel the tip of her blade piercing your back in the best way.

"I don't hate," she insisted anyway, moving to lean against the counter. Her voice dipped in seriousness, conceding her honest feelings. "You annoy me because you’re sexy and confident and make Smoke lean into you in a way he’s only ever done with me. I was upset about you gettin' in between me and my Elijah, but it is what it is. We ain't in no real relationship, and I don't like bein' settled with just one person anyway."

She shrugged like nothing mattered, like her words hadn’t told you more than she originally intended them to.

You could see right through her. She was needy, desperate, holding onto her control long enough to see if your dominance could revitalize hers. You had disturbed something deep inside of her. Whatever you helped to stir up gave way to a new understanding of herself. For years, she claimed that she would never be open to a real relationship. She liked to explore, to play the field, to have fun, but something about you and Smoke made her want to lay her old ways to rest.

"Oh, yeah?" Your question was rhetorical, full of sarcasm as you traversed the open floor of the store. You closed in on her. Your tired eyes stared into her embarrassed ones, but she didn’t shy away. She wanted you to know that she could go toe to toe with the best of them—and she definitely thought you were the best.

Annie cleared her throat.

"Yeah," she huffed with a roll of her eye, just ready for the smug smile to be wiped from your face. She shifted her weight to one foot and crossed her arms under her hefty chest to put more distance between the two of you. Her throat bobbed, and it caused you to chuckle wickedly, only adding to the heat in her body. "Are you comin' with me so I can feed you or what?"

The walk to the woman’s home was treacherous. It wasn’t because of the haints that loved to watch from behind the tree line. It wasn’t because of the devilish klan or because of any foul man. It was dark—pitch black—and the landscape was loud with the sounds of crickets and toads and your humming: that tune from the juke nights ago. But it wasn't treacherous because of that—or how Annie’s heart hadn’t stopped beating rapidly since before she stumbled across you in the general store, or how your exhaustion had only settled deeper as your stomach growled harshly and the moon moved your body toward sleep.

The walk wasn’t treacherous because of any of those things.

As you hummed, the woman allowed her stroll to become more rooted in her body and the earth. Her hips churned. Her arms swayed. Despite her nerves, her eyes took a look in your direction—teasing and domineering. It had your pussy throbbing, but never once did you stop humming. Instead, you shuffled closer, lowering your hum to her ear. Your arm surrounded her waist, fitting her body into your side, and you finished the rest of your walk with Annie in your hold.

There was an ease to it that made both of you want to howl toward the night sky, ripping each other’s clothes off to provide a momentary pleasure while laid atop blankets of grass and dew. With each step, the two of you had to resist the urge. But resisting only increased your need. The anticipation heightened, and as Annie’s small, tree-cloaked home came into view, she hurried herself closer into your arms.

She fed you as promised, cooking up the best plate of fried okra, black-eyed peas, and salt meat you’d ever had. As you ate, eyes drooping in that full belly with sleep on the horizon way, she worked at her bottom lip. Annie moved to tidy up her kitchen, but every few minutes, she’d throw a look over her shoulder, just to check on you—and to make sure she wasn’t over-exaggerating the way you made her feel.

And she never was. You had her pussy soaked, her thighs quivering, her nipples scraping against the fabric of her dress. You hadn’t even touched her, but she could fully imagine what it would be like: all harsh and sweet, soft and commanding. As she looked at you again, now preparing for bed, rinsing your body at the wash basin, she thought of Smoke and his sweet moans. She knew without a doubt that you could pull some delicious sounds from him. With the way he’d laid so comfortably against you in the middle of town and Messenger’s, there’s no way he wasn't beautifully submissive with you.

You could feel the woman looking as you peeled your dress off. She had directed you toward the basin in the corner of the front room, and as you moved toward it, she shifted her position in the kitchen. To watch. To lust.

And you allowed her to, putting on a show of washing your tired body, just imagining the gaping mouth she had at your curves.

“You got something I can wear to bed,” your voice rose above the deafening quiet of the home. You still refused to look in her direction, and you didn’t need to because she hadn’t broken her appreciation of your form once. Annie’s eyes were trained on you—unapologetic now as she crossed the space.

Her hips moved in that violently commanding way, each step causing your body to betray itself. Your heartbeat quickened, and your thighs clenched inconspicuously. There was no mistaking the other woman’s motives, but when her burning palm landed on your bare waist, you still shuttered at the sting. Her dress and beaded necklace scratched at your back when she leaned into you, lips to the shell of your ear.

“I think I prefer you like this,” Annie lulled into your right ear, words skating down the side of your neck and toward your spine. She giggled at the shiver she had evoked, how the dragging of her nails against your damp skin made every part of you break out in chills. Your jaw was wide open, lips parted in a groan of need. Something inside you was shattering, breaking beneath her to give in. You stood before her naked, uncaring of where her eyes land or where her hands wandered.

You found your head nodding without thinking about it, and Annie’s fingers followed the silent invitation. Trailing over your hip and down the front of your stomach, she felt at the softness of your skin, humming at ever shiver and confident grind into her palm.

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout this since I walked up in Maybelle’s that day,” Annie sighed dreamily into your neck. “I came there to tear into yo’ ass about bein’ all over my man. But I found myself growin’ jealous of him. Spent my nights imaginin’ what you felt like under his fingers, how you broke him in two so easily, how I wanted to break you back.” She hummed as she smacked the side of your thigh, a moan erupting from your lungs. “Who knew you’d be a whimperin’, moanin’ li’l slut for me.” Her tone was harsh but somehow honey-coated.

Annie felt she’d succeeded in conquering you. With her hands now traveling between your thighs, she smiled filthily when you trapped her there. Tremors sounding, you rutted into her hand. Each grind of your hips sent your clit against her palm, a wave of pleasure through your system, and a moan to the woman’s ears. You felt wild with carnal desire, but you weren’t going to allow any of that to cloud your judgment too much.

The woman had one hand draped across your stomach to stabilize your movements while the other worked at your pussy. She whispered insults and praise into the air.

“Don’t confuse this for what it’s not,” you growled after a sharp moan, head tilted back on her shoulder. “You ain’t in charge of shit, pretty.”

“Oh, please,” Annie laughed. She pulled you closer to her chest, fucking you with two eager digits. She moaned at the way your eyes fluttered shut, body slackening while you let out a silent cry. “These fingers ‘bout to have yo’ ass sleepin’ good in my bed and you want to act like you got any say so right now?” She chuckled at the audacity, finding it hilarious that you were still fighting despite how good she was fucking you. Your moans increased exponentially—fast, loud, incessant—and Annie watched you crumble with twinkling eyes. “You’re losin’ your control, baby,” she pouted, kissing her jaw.

The woman knew this was going to come back to bite her in the ass because your dominance was just like hers. She was fucking you this hard as retaliation for overpowering her at Messanger’s, so there was no way you wouldn’t retaliate against her for this: fucking you while standing and making you shake so hard that your knees buckled. She reveled in the sight of you like this while it all lasted. She indulged in every whining moan and how your hand wrapped around her wrist for comfort because she knew she wouldn’t have you like this for much longer. You fought as much as you could, but when your eyes opened in an attempt to prove her wrong, your attention landed on a smoking pipe. It was hung on the wall and stared back with a familiarity that drove your senses wild.

The man popped up in your mind—almost as if his tobacco-smoking self was watching the scene unfold. You were in Annie’s arms like you belonged there, and her fingers were raking through your folds like she’d had a lifetime to learn your needs. As much as you wanted to fight, it was all too much goodness to not allow your body to bend.

But in no world were you okay with breaking.

Leaning your back into her chest with a renewed energy, you fucked yourself on her hand. Hips wild and thrusting, you took back as much control as she’d allow. As she hurled both insults and praise, you bit your tongue. But when you finally came right there in the front room—completely bare against her fully-clothed body—you couldn’t help but to thank her profusely for her handling of you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

word count: ~8,600

a/n: more smoke in the next one because i wanted to set up the ladies' connection!! talk to me in the commentss

taglist: comment HERE to be added!

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