description: apothecary! reader finds herself spiraling about her body's response to sevika and she doesn't know what to do.
warnings: emotional unavailability, stitches, blood, emotional vulnerability from sevika and reader? woah we're going places.
a/n: happy pride y'all omg i had to lock in and get this out :p
part four here
you stayed like that for some time, your chin rested against the expanse of your forearm in a feeble attempt to ground your racing mind. but your eyes just couldn't help but to flicker and flicker and flicker from sign to street to tank to the ant-sized people below you to the crown of piltover.
nothing was interesting enough, there was nothing you hadn’t seen. there was nothing here that could take your mind off of what just happened and how not okay it was. your heart was thrumming in your chest and you couldn’t help but to think. and think. and think.
you’d let her go, stayed behind even though your body ached for you to follow, and now you’ve been somewhere between kicking yourself and commending your strength for the past hour. eventually though, the unforgiving cold of the wind whipping through the overpass got to you no matter how unaffected you claim to be after all of these years.
and like sevika, it became impossible to ignore.
the overpass had a way of swallowing time whole. you had discovered that years ago. something about the height, or maybe it was because standing high enough above zaun gave the illusion that you had somehow escaped it. up here the city softened around the edges. the machinery below dulled into a distant mechanical pulse rather than an endless roar. violence became something abstract. further away.
you had leaned against the rusted railing long enough for the city beneath you to shift. somewhere during your self-inflicted spiral, bars had emptied and foot traffic through the lower lanes had thinned. steam still curled upward from refinery pipes and the fissures still glowed beneath the city like exposed veins, but everything had become softer somehow.
you weren’t entirely sure how long you’d been standing there. long enough.
far too long, considering your thoughts had long since stopped being productive and instead begun circling themselves with enough repetition to qualify as psychological warfare.
because every road, every firing synapse, every lane… somehow led back to sevika.
not anything useful either, your brain offered you no clarity, no justification, no new information at all- just broken fragments.
the warmth of her hand at the small of your back on the stairs, the look in her lidded eyes when she stared down at your lips like she was in pain- like it hurt to not cover your lips with hers. you think about how it hurt you too.
the rough scrape of her angelic voice saying wouldn’t have climbed six flights bleeding if i wanted to be anywhere else.
the way her hand pressed into your skin with enough pressure to make you-
gods.
you physically squeezed your eyes shut and rubbed both hands over your face. humiliating. actually, genuinely, humiliating. because this was absurd. you had spent years carefully constructing a life that required very little from anyone. small routines. predictable spaces. work. music. ekko. aether.
then sevika had arrived at babettes and you thought you had it all under control, then she showed up at your shop with silco in tow and now suddenly your body had developed opinions.
eventually you pushed away from the railing with a long sigh and started toward the staircase. the old metal groaned beneath your boots as you descended through the refinery skeleton, exposed beams creaking overhead whenever the wind curled through them. gradually, the city climbed back around you with each flight. distant voices. machinery. music bleeding from somewhere lower in the lanes. a song you recognized but your brain was too exhausted to place the lyrics.
your thoughts had mostly exhausted themselves by now. or maybe just exhausted you.
either way you rounded the final turn expecting nothing more interesting than another flight of stairs. and then you got caught in between steps- stilled, despite yourself. you felt a million different emotions and thoughts wash over your body all at once, in an instant and you didn’t know how you felt or what to think.
your body simply forgot what it had been doing because sitting at the bottom of the staircase with her back propped against rusted railing- was sevika, sitting with their head tipped back and one knee bent loosely toward their chest.
your feet stopped moving entirely.
and immediately your eyes moved over her automatically because apparently some deeply irritating part of your brain had already developed habits. bandaging, posture, breathing, hands, no fresh blood. no visible strain. cool, good.
great.
your shoulders loosened and you let out a little sigh before you could stop yourself and sevika’s eyes opened instantly. like she’d been listening just for your sigh.
her lazy gaze found yours halfway up the stairs, up your body- shamelessly- and moved over your face once before the corner of her mouth lifted into something lazy and entirely too pleased with itself.
“there she is.” you stared at her, actually stared. dumbfounded.
because what exactly was the appropriate response to finding a woman you had watched leave over an hour ago sitting at the bottom of refinery stairs waiting for you?
your brows furrowed slowly. “...what happened?”
sevika blinked once.
“...what?”
you were already moving before she could answer. your eyes had dropped immediately toward the bandaging at her ribs and narrowed almost on instinct. she shifted slightly against the railing and your attention caught on it immediately, tracking movement before your thoughts could catch up.
“the wound?” a brief silence passed between you both and she furrowed her thick brows at you, unimpressed.
“...that’s your hello?”
you ignored her completely, for the first time tonight, and crouched in front of her- already reaching toward the edge of the bandaging beneath her shirt before you could stop yourself. you found your hand pressing into her abdomen, trying to see if the wound would react.
sevika, knowing she was completely fine, ignored your ministrations as much as her body could allow- just searching your beautiful face, brushing a windswept curl from your face so you can get a better look at her to ease your mind. and it’s not exactly like she dreaded you feeling her up.
very slowly something smug crossed her expression, she saw your concern, your fear. she felt you touching her like it was your gods-given right and she couldn’t help it. you were just so beautiful in her eyes. so funny, so interesting, someone that needed to be hers in ways she couldn’t even communicate to you. in ways that only made sense to her nervous system.
“missed you too.” your head snapped upward immediately.
“what?”
“the panic’s nice.”
you sat back on your heels, taking your hand back, and stared at her in complete disbelief. actual disbelief. because now that panic had receded enough for your brain to function properly, you realized not only was she not hurt- but she waited here for howeverfuckinglong you stayed up there for. sitting, idle.
you had watched her leave, you had listened for the sound of her boots disappearing beneath city noise. you had spent the last hour and a half trying very hard not to think about her, definitely not preparing yourself to come face to face with her for a second time tonight.
and meanwhile somehow, somehow, sevika had apparently spent that exact same hour sitting at the bottom of rusted refinery stairs. waiting for you. uninjured, not out of necessity- just waiting, relaxing?
your eyes moved over her again, the jacket folded beside her as she was unaffected by the winds wrecking havoc toward the top of the overpass where you were getting assaulted.
her hand was resting low against your bandaging, her arm was exposed and her muscles were relaxed revealing just how naturally strong her body was- definitely as a result of years and years of her job.
you see her posture and what unsettles you the most is the fact that she had gotten comfortable.
your brows knit tighter.
“...you just waited?” sevika shrugged one shoulder, and you took it that that was going to be her full response. casual, like this was somehow normal behavior.
“sevika.”
“mm.” she mimicked you, all too easy. you rolled your eyes but something- probably the amused gleam you catch in her eye- tells you she doesn't mind the sight.
“why.” the silence didn’t have time to sit, and sevika didn’t have any time to respond to you before-
“-did silco assign you to keep tabs on me or something?”
she looked at you then. really looked. the grin lingered at the edges of her mouth but something shifted beneath it, frustration maybe.
“you stayed up there for a while.”
you blinked. that wasn’t an answer, noted.
“...yes, i did.”
“tried watching you for a bit-” you glared at her voyeurism, feeling a heat you can’t describe crawl up your neck and settle at the tips of your ears.
“-you looked miserable.”
“do i normally look happy?” you asked her, sarcasm dripping as you play with the hem of your skirt pooled around your ankles. your chest felt tight with your knees pressed to it as you sat opposite her, you pretend it’s because of your position but you know the truth.
“how long did you watch?” you asked, softly. pretending that the answer doesn’t matter to you. that you don’t care. just pretending.
“not long, m’not a creep.” she finds it in herself to say.
you looked up at her from your position on the floor beneath the step she called home for the past hour or so.
“little creepy.” you smile, despite yourself. and she smiles back, like the smug asshole she is.
and then, because your body was actively conspiring against you now, your eyes drifted lower, back toward her ribs where you know her injury to be. sevika saw it, of course she did.
“there.” she says and you frown.
“what?.”
“that thing.”
“what thing?”
“y’keep doing that.” she gestures to you in the vaguest way possible. you stared.
“doing what, exactly?”
“checking me out.” immediately your eyes snapped to hers, and you find that shes already looking at you.
“excuse me! you’re injured, i’m checking on you. you sat here for an hour with fresh stitches- which is obviously not what i meant when i said go home and rest.”
“mhm.” she hums noncommittally and you roll your eyes so hard you think that maybe ekko was right when he told you one day your eyes would get stuck like that.
“fucking unbelievable.” you huff, standing to dust off your skirt and make distance from her and her stupid smirk and her poorly-healing stitches.
sevika looked at you for a second after that, really looked. and when she spoke again the teasing had softened around the edges.
“wanted to make sure you got down.”
just like that. simple. no grin attached to it.
you look down at her, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed together in annoyance or contentment, neither of you knew which. it ultimately didn’t matter because regardless of how you felt- sevika was already pushing herself up with her mech hand and a small grunt to accompany it.
“c’mon.” she says, bending to grab her jacket off the step, shaking it off and throwing it over her shoulder. you look at her for a moment, considering questioning her or debating or being- in her words- difficult, but you land on a curt nod. following her. tired.
she reaches for you and her hand settles on the small of your back as she guides you through the lanes you’ve known and walked alone for years. you notice everything she does, even as tired as you are and as tired as your brain is- you notice her every move.
she walks on the more dangerous side of the street, always. she scans the lanes, above and below where you are- left and right. she towers you with her frame and all of her touches linger in ways that you know are intentional.
“sevika.” you taste her name on your tongue, you say it cautiously as if not to scare her.
she looks at you from the corner of her eye, quickly and then back at the street. she grunts in response and you let out a small breathy laugh.
“i could’ve gotten home by myself just fine, you know.” you say, to which she hums in response.
“so why did you stay?” you ask, quieter. some part of you probably had hoped that the hissing of the fissures had covered the question.
“maybe silco sent me to keep tabs on you.” she said, flatly. in the dry way her humor tended to be.
“i’m serious.” you said. smaller still.
“i wanted to make sure you got home, my way of paying you for your services.” she said, with a sigh.
“so, it’s transactional then-” you observe, unhappily.
“why are you picking a fight with me right now?” she cuts you off almost immediately and you’re taken aback by her brashness.
“i’m not.” you say, defensiveness woven into your tone.
“you are and i don’t understand why.” she says, matter-of-factly.
she turns into your lane and you see the familiar sign of your shop dangling with the breeze of the wind- much softer than the wind on the overpass. you think on what she’s saying to you, you try to make it make sense but your brain is burnt out and your stomach is running on no food and your feet hurt and your satchel is weighing your shoulder down. and even worse- she’s not making sense right now. and you don’t know how to deal with something that doesn’t make sense, especially not right now.
before you know it, you’re stood in front of your shop with sevika beside you. she leans against the brick beside the door and you look at her with your tired eyes.
“what is that look for?” she asks, with the tilt of her head.
“you’re making my life very hard.” you blurt out, unbuttoning her coat to reach the satchel beneath for your keys to the shop, you fumble with the latch and huff in frustration.
“i just walked you home, and that’s making your life difficult?”
“yes-”
“how-”
“because, i don’t know what you want from me or why you’re here and it’s stressing me out. what is it? what are you doing?” you question her aggressively, trying and failing to shove your key into the lock embarrassingly, several times before sevika grabs them and does it for you. her fingers are rough and calloused when they cover your smaller fingers.
“i don’t need help.” you snapped at her. and you definitely notice that she used that act to side-step your questions.
“y’sure looked like you needed my-” she begins to joke with you but you feel a flush creeping up your face as your mind can’t seem to get past the lingering sensation of her rough hands touching your hand.
“gods. you’re being impossible.” you groan and push the door open with your hip as you begin to take off your coat and boots at the door. aether is waiting, judgementally, on your workbench. hissing to show her disapproval.
“can you not?” you rhetorically ask her. and you see sevika out of the corner of your eye, taking the key out of the door, closing it and bolting it behind herself.
the lock slid home with finality, and sevika discarded her jacket on the hook by the door and started moving though the shop like she belonged here. looking around, dragging her hand across the leather of the couch, over the wood of the tables and shelves.
you regulate yourself, breathing quietly but deeply and cracking your knuckles as you move over to your worktable. as you do, aether leaps down and goes to sniff at sevika’s ankles as she moves through the shop. she rubs her head against her boot and that gets sevika to look down at her. she smiles, amused and looks up at you.
looks at you with a crooked grin and gestures to your traitorous cat. she’s amused until she sees you reach for a jar of moss- then nothing’s funny and an incredulous expression finds itself covering her features.
“don’t you think it’s a little late to work?” she asks and you scoff. not even dignifying it with a response because when has she ever seen you not working. when has anybody ever seen you not working? and, more importantly, everybody benefits from your work so they should really stop acting like they want you to stop. they don’t.
“hello? venus?” she says, crossing the distance between you both with a few strides, coming up on your side. you press your lips together and keep your eyes trained on the moss in the jar as you prep the worktable with your disinfectant. like you don’t smell her, or feel the heat of her body or the way her thigh brushes against yours.
she takes the rag right out of your hand.
you jerk your head to face her, expression stormy and mouth open to speak. but then you take her in, her arm raised with your rag above her head- muscles taut and pulled tight with the motion. the low light of the shop in all it’s nightly glory cutting across her face making it as angular as possible and you look at her lowly lidded eyes, unhappy with you. but she looks so good and before you can think-
your lips crash against hers, sudden and jolting. your eyes are pressed close with the grace of a hormonal teenager and your fingers are curled around the collar of her shirt and you can’t help but sigh in sheer relief. you feel the scar on her lip against yours, and finally you know what she feels like- lips pressed against yours.
sevikas as still as stone, and you see her frozen in place when you pull back and let your eyes flutter open. she’s wearing an expression of pure shock and her arm is lowered from where it was holding your rag.
just when the reality of what you’ve done becomes to weigh down on you and your brows draw together in concern and confusion- she crashes back into you with a groan. the rag is long forgotten and her hands come to grab at your waist pulling you closer until your chests are pressed up against one another.
its hungry, restless and intense like both of you have spent far too long pretending there wasn't something here. all of that patience, snapping like a wire before either of you can think better of it.
the force of it nearly knocks the breath from your lungs.
and it’s not just the kiss, it’s the certainty. because sevika doesn't hesitate.
one moment she's staring at you like you've lost your mind and the next she's pulling you closer with a low sound of disbelief, as if she can't quite believe you've done this either. but the disbelief is not enough to begin to outweigh the need.
your worktable presses into the back of your hips. and glass rattles softly somewhere behind you. neither of you cares.
your hands migrate from their place on her collar and find themselves tangled in the hair at the nape of her neck, pulling her ever closer with a sigh spilling from her lips in the microsecond that you two aren’t connected.
her body is oppressive against yours, and you really get to feel her against you for the first time- like this. you crane your neck up to meet her lips and kisses you like she has something to prove to you. her teeth nip at your lower lip and it’s like you’ve finally found something that can shut your brain up. you think of nothing, nothing but her lips and her hands.
and when you finally pull back for air, it's only by an inch.
her forehead drops against yours and her eyes stay closed. but you, you’re searching for anything on her face. contentment, bliss, confusion… regret?
you stare at her, and your fingers work at the hair on the back of her neck, twirling the hair there. when she doesn’t make a face you find your head dropping, eyes closing. your foreheads stay pressed, and you feel her tighten her grip on your waist holding you tightly to her chest. it feels like a hug, and you don’t remember the last time you’ve really felt that.
you feel a wave of…sadness…start in the center of your chest and spill outward at the realization. she has a way of making you think, not that you aren’t always thinking, but she has a way of making you feel and think things that you haven’t spared a thought for in years. it’s annoying.
“i can hear you thinking.” she says, her voice is breathy in a way that you’ve not heard her even after she was freshly stabbed.
“what am i thinking then?” you say softly,
“that i’m annoying.” she said, and you could hear the self-satisfied smile in her voice.
“thats a given.” you roll your eyes with a scoff and finally allow your eyes to make contact with hers.
“but what you’re really trying to figure out is what happens next.” she says. you avert your eyes immediately.
the words hit harder than expected, because they're true- painfully so.
you lean back just enough to look at her, taking your hands back to rest yourself on your worktable but sevika’s hands stay on you, moving from your waist to the curve of your hips. resting, casual.
her mech hand comes to grab your chin, tilting you back to face her. her eyes meet yours immediately, challenging you to look back.
there’s no teasing, no smug grin to hide behind. just honesty, she’s giving her all to you and you don’t know what to do with that. you never have.
you hate how quickly your chest tightens because the reality is that you've spent most of your life planning for things to end, for people to leave. one of the most important things that you’ve learned is to plan for disappointment before it can surprise you.
and now she's standing here looking at you like the possibility hasn't even occurred to her. like this doesn't have to be temporary. like she's sure.
your gaze drops briefly to her lips, to her jaw, her shirt all bunched up from where your hands were parched on her. anywhere but her eyes.
"i… don't like not knowing things." you admit with a kiss of your teeth. the admission escapes before you can stop it.
sevika scoffs, "yeah. i noticed."
you roll your eyes and she smiles. a new smile, it's quiet and unsure and you’re certain that nobody else has seen it.
"you know what's really irritating?" you furrow your brows and tilt your chin up at her.
"to you? lots of things, i’m sure." she quips.
"sevika."
"venus." you can't help the laugh that escapes you. you hate her, she’s difficult. she’s also probably thinking the same thing about you. sevika's smile only widens at the sound. she leans into you, crowding your space.
the sight does something deeply unfair to your nervous system.
"what's irritating?" she asks, with a tilt of her head and a furrowed brow in a show of mock pity, messing with you.
you stare at her for a moment and your brain plays that game where you have a whole conversation in your head in a split second on whether or not you should be sincere or not. then you answer honestly.
"you…stayed." the words leave you before you can dress them up, and you wince at the sappiness of what you just allowed to come out of your mouth.
"yeah." she agrees. doesn’t push or argue.
your throat tightens.
"you just..." you struggle for the words, it’s embarrassing and you hate that anybody has the ability to see you like this.
"i kept trying to figure out what you… wanted."
sevika's brows pull together slightly, confused.
as if the answer has been obvious this entire time. as if you've somehow, despite all of your brain and analysis and observation, still missed it. and maybe you have.
because when she speaks, it sounds legitimately ridiculous.
"i wanted to spend time with you."
the room goes as silent as it can with all of the noise of the lanes outside and the shop's steady humidified breaths. you stare at her, eyes shifting back and forth, scanning her eyes for a hidden answer that you’re so sure is there beneath it all.
she says it like it's obvious.
like waiting beneath a staircase for over an hour is a perfectly normal thing to do when you like someone. your laugh escapes before you can stop it, disbelieving, a little broken around the edges.
sevika's expression softens immediately and for the first time all evening, you don't look away.
you just stand there, held against her chest, looking at her.
and allowing yourself, however briefly, however ill-advised, to believe her.
While I'm finishing the brothel piece.... Here you go! Another Sevika sketch >:) Should I render it??? Also if I can at last understand how patreon works I'll be opening NSFW comms there next month!!!
Everyone outside the hotel thinks they know you. They know the stage persona, the voice, the eyeliner, the way you destroy yourself on stage night after night. But only Vi knows what happens after the lights go out—how your hands shake after concerts, how exhausted you really are, how badly you need someone to hold you together before you completely fall apart.
tags: explicit sexual content (18+), rockstar au, singer!reader, guitarist!Vi, tribbing, pussy grinding, clit stimulation, nipple play, biting, spitting, finger sucking, weed smoking, praise and teasing, emotional intimacy, soft dom Vi.
The bathroom in your hotel room smells like weed, steam, and your shampoo. The hot water runs down your body like punishment, barely any pressure behind it, but you’re grateful for every drop anyway because tonight’s show was a slaughterhouse, too many people, too much noise, too much of everything. The microphone still vibrates in your hands even though it’s been two hours since you walked offstage, your throat feels scraped raw from screaming down to your guts, your makeup running because you couldn’t even bother taking it off before the shower, and your thighs ache from jumping under the stage lights. Nobody prepared you for this, for this animal devotion, the roar, the pressure of being the band’s singer, of making every show more epic than the last even while you’re falling apart inside. Outside the hotel there are probably another hundred, another thousand fans, all convinced you’re some untouchable goddess and not a wreck of a human being who hasn’t slept properly in six months.
The only thing you have is Vi. Vi, with her razor-cut hair dyed by you, tattooed arms and easy laugh, waiting for you in bed like you’re the center of gravity of the whole fucking universe. She’s completely naked, legs spread, with that hungry look she never loses. There’s a joint between her teeth and she watches you, impatient and amused, while you walk out of the bathroom, barely drying yourself off, naked all the way to the bed where she’s already turned the lights off. Without saying anything, you throw yourself on top of her, crush her under your wet body, and she takes you in laughing, kissing you slow enough that it feels like slow motion. Vi holds the back of your neck, plays with your lips while her hands slide down your back to your ass, squeezing you and pulling you higher against her.
“You know what killed me today?” Vi asks, pulling back from the kiss, voice rough from cigarettes and screaming.
“What?”
“When you hit that high note a few hours ago. I thought your throat was gonna split in half.”
“I almost threw up,” you answer with a laugh, pressing your forehead to hers. “How’s your hand holding up?”
Vi lifts it, flexing her knuckles, all bruised and dry-skinned from the chords. “It’ll fall off on its own eventually. I’m letting it.”
You kiss her hand and look back up at her eyes, not before stopping at her lips first, of course. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t stop you. Vi is always willing when it comes to you, no matter how crazy or ridiculously romantic it is. Taking advantage of that, you keep kissing lower, tracing a path to her middle finger, sucking it gently. Vi sighs at the heat of your mouth, your tongue around her finger, and decides to push her ring finger in too, grabbing your chin so she can talk.
“You know there’s an afterparty, right?” she says quietly, pulling her fingers from your mouth even though she doesn’t want to, just to hear your answer.
You nod. “I don’t give a shit about the afterparty,” you admit. To you, one more party or one less never meant much anyway. It’s all the same in the end. “I’m good here.”
“You sure you’d rather have this than a party with music, food, alcohol?” she asks in that low, dirty voice.
“Mm.” You murmur against her neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses, soft and lazy, teasing her with a small bite that makes her grab the back of your neck. “You’re better than all that, Violet.”
Vi laughs, flips you over in one sharp movement and leaves you underneath her, her thigh wedged between yours. She leans down, kneading your tits, staring at them like they’re something precious, or like she likes to call them, “her stress balls.” She licks one nipple hungrily, moaning before you even do, enjoying this as much as you, maybe more. Vi takes her time, sucking each nipple one by one, biting right at the edge of pain. She talks with her mouth still against your skin.
“We could be on a yacht right now,” she says, “But you want a stiff bed and hotel sex.”
You pull her hair back and stare into her dark, burning blue eyes.
“You can leave if you want,” you reply, pretending not to care while partly daring her to do it. With a glance, you point at the faint smoke still rising from the joint she abandoned on the nightstand. “Give it to me.”
Vi brings it to her mouth, takes a long drag, then parts your lips with her thumb and blows the smoke into your throat while kissing you. You choke a little, the burn sliding down your chest, your mind starting to float while your hands move on their own, desperate, touching Vi’s body like she’s liquid, like every inch of her skin is charged with static electricity.
Vi lowers her hand to your cunt, just playing, like she could torture you mercilessly all night long. Her finger gets bolder, stroking between your lips where she finds wetness. She laughs under her breath.
“You’re sick,” she mocks. “Concerts turn you on?”
“You turn me on, idiot.”
Now it’s your turn. You slip your hand between her legs and rub her clit with practiced rhythm, pressing slow circles, feeling the heat build while Vi curves toward you, mouth at your ear, breathing hard.
“Come on, doll, I know you love making me cum. Do it,” she begs, and the fragility in her voice catches you off guard.
You answer with the same touch, picking up the pace without going too fast, searching for the exact spot that makes her shake. Vi kisses your cheek, your neck, your shoulders, biting everything she can until you feel marked and feral. Before letting her enjoy your fingers too much, you switch positions, climbing on top of her, pressing your pelvis against hers until your cunts line up, heat and slick mixing together, your clits searching for each other.
It’s slow at first, just brushing, grinding, feeling the pulse of your bodies and the sway of your hips, sticky skin sliding together, slick overflowing between your thighs. Vi guides you with her hands on your waist, tattoos shining under the dim light, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks.
“That’s it, baby,” she murmurs against your neck, already lost in the feeling of you against her. “So good, so fucking good. Don’t stop.”
Vi forces you to grind harder, to crush yourself against her like you could eat her whole.
“Fuck, Violet.”
“Ah, there it is,” she teases quietly, breath brushing your skin. “That little voice. I like that one.”
You bite her shoulder just to shut her up for a second, but she only laughs against your neck, completely entertained by you.
“Don’t laugh at me.”
“Then stop making such pretty sounds.”
There’s no sound except your bodies slamming together, Vi’s muffled moans, your ragged breathing, the dull thud of your heads against the headboard, hot crushed tits and the smell of sex filling the whole room. Your mind goes blank, only movement and hunger exist, the need to grind her down until she surrenders, until she cums first.
But Vi is stubborn. She holds on like a champion. So you take control, hook her legs over your shoulders, spread her wide and line your cunt up with hers higher, closer. Then you start grinding again, slower this time, your clits rubbing together, swollen pussy lips slick and hot, heat climbing like a fever.
You look down at her, your pace slowing more and more, like you want to feel every tiny tremor running through her body. Vi’s cheeks are flushed, lips shiny and swollen from all the kissing, and she’s still smiling at you in that insolent way that melts you.
“What?” she murmurs, still rubbing against you. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
You don’t answer right away. You just brush a strand of hair stuck to her forehead aside and run your thumb over her bottom lip, soft, almost tender.
“Open your mouth, my love.”
Vi does it without questioning you, staring up at you, trusting, like she’d let you do anything to her as long as it was you. The gesture is slow, intimate, more vulnerable than anyone would ever expect from her. And when your spit falls onto her tongue, slow and warm, Vi lets out a quiet sound that tightens something in your chest more than between your legs. Her fingers sink into your thighs as she swallows without looking away.
“Again,” she whispers, rough and needy. “Please.”
The way she asks makes you kiss her before answering. Your mouths crash together wet and messy, sharing breath and taste without caring about anything else. There’s no disgust, no shame, just hunger and affection tangled together in a way that can’t be separated.
Vi cups your face while you keep grinding together, slow but desperate at the same time. Every kiss feels like she wants to swallow your moans, your soft laughs, even the air from your lungs.
You’re close, too close, orgasm bubbling low in your stomach, but you refuse to cum before she does. Vi looks wrecked, mouth open, begging for more, repeating “don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” so you keep going, grinding your cunts together until suddenly her body arches and she cries out, rough and animal, pure pleasure. Heat explodes between you, soaking everything, and only then do you let go too, your legs shaking while your body collapses onto hers.
You stay there for a moment, breathless. Vi strokes your hair, your cheek, kisses your eyelids.
“nNw it actually feels like we had a party.”
“We’re disgusting,” you say, but you’re laughing.
“Does that bother you?” she asks, with a hint of vulnerability.
“The opposite.” You kiss her cheek, her forehead, her mouth. “I want you exactly like this. With everything you come with.”
“You wanna skip rehearsal tomorrow?” she asks, grinning with that wicked spark in her eyes. “Stay here all day, fuck and write songs.”
“Otherwise what the fuck are we rockstars for?” you say, kissing her, and inside that kiss, it feels like the whole world fits.
SUMMARY: You are Fratboy!Vi’s girl and she makes it very well known to everyone and yourself that you are hers.
CONTENTS: Nsfw, mdni, headcanons + smut scenes, modern au, college au, vaginal fingering, marking, finger sucking, semi public sex, partying, possessiveness, established relationship, oral sex, strap-on’s.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Merri’s Notes. . . Vi art is by @/blkfairyy0 on x !!
FRATBOY!VI who comes up to you the second she sees you arrive at a party. Hugging you from behind, a red cup in one hand and her other sliding around your waist to rest on your stomach. Who kisses the side of your jaw, your neck, your cheek—you know she’s drunk but you can’t help but smile and lean into her.
FRATBOY!VI who tries to act cool when the others tease her about being a softy for you but can’t help but blush because they’re right, she is. 99 out of 100 percent of the time you are wearing her jacket, but that’s mostly because she likes seeing you in it. And totally not because she likes seeing other people see you in it.
FRATBOY!VI who is obsessed with making you feel good.
Your hips buck up as Vi’s palm smacks against your clit, two of her fingers knuckle deep inside of you and pounding into you regardless of your squirming.
The wet sound of your cunt could almost be drowned out by the music coming from the small speaker on the desk if she didn’t have you so wet and worked up.
Her legs stay hooked over yours to keep your legs spread and open for her and she rests her head on your shoulder from behind you. “You feel so fucking good baby,” Vi breathes into your ear, her free hand sliding up your bare chest to palm your breast, rolling the nipple between her thumb and forefinger. “So wet for me, god…”
You drop your head back against her shoulder as she attaches her lips to your neck again, your chest heaving beneath her hand. “Fuck Vi, please…”
Vi pulls her face away from your neck, looking over your shoulder to watch as she pulls her fingers out of your, soaked with your slick, and pulls them up to spread it around your swollen clit.
“Please what, baby?” Vi pants, the sight of you all flushed and writhing against her turns her on to no end, her nipples hard against her shirt and boxers damp against her cunt.
“Let me cum,” You whine as you turn your head to look back at her, you hand reaching down to grab Vi’s wrist to guide her fingers back inside of you but she just takes her hand off your chest and grabs your own, lacing her fingers with yours.
“I’ve got you, darling.” Vi catches your lips in a kiss, a little awkward due to the position but that doesn’t stop her. She relishes in the slight falter of your lips as she pushes her fingers back inside you and picks up her rhythm again.
You don’t even get through the next song before you’re pulling your lips away from Vi’s with a gasp, your legs tensing as you grind your hips into her fingers with every thrust. “Vi, fuck, ‘m gonna cum, Vi—“
“Yeah?” Vi keeps the same speed, only changing so her palm grinds into your clit harder. “C’mon then baby, come for me.”
Your eyes roll back as pleasure crashes over you, your back arching against Vi’s chest and your cunt clenching around her fingers. Your hand tightens almost painfully around Vi’s where they’re still linked against your chest.
Vi fucks you through it, letting you ride out the high as she murmurs into your ear how beautiful you are when you come apart for her. She only slows down once you slump back against her, chest heaving, eyes hazy. The most gorgeous sight she’s ever seen.
FRATBOY!VI who is the CEO of the middle finger. Someone teasing her about you? Middle finger. Someone telling her to knock off the pda? Middle finger. Someone being an asshole to you? Nah, that’s an attempted punch in the face, usually being pulled back by you before she gets kicked out of college for breaking the assholes nose.
FRATBOY!VI who always has her arm around you in public. Slung around your waist to rest on your hip, sometimes shoving her hand in your pocket to keep you close. An arm around the back of your neck, resting on top of her jacket that’s sitting around your shoulders.
FRATBOY!VI who is always sleeping half naked in the summer. When you sleep over, you wake up to her in just her boxers. Either being held against her, an arm wrapped around you and her bare chest pressing against your back or she’s sprawled out on her front, tattoo’s out in the open for you to trace as she slowly wakes up beneath your touch.
FRATBOY!VI who isn’t always the one in charge during sex. Sometimes you like to boss her around a little and sometimes all the time she likes it.
Vi groans, her hands tightening on your hips as you trail your hand down her abs and into her boxers. Fingers sliding through the wetness and stopping to rub circles around her throbbing clit.
You lean forward, littering kisses down her neck from where you’re straddling her on the couch in the corner of her room. You pull your hand out suddenly making her curse and lift her head from where it was leaning against the back of the couch.
“Baby, what…?” She pauses as you slide off her lap, shoving your fingers in your mouth and moaning at the taste of her as you sink down to the floor between her legs.
“Up.” You pat the side of her hip, your thumbs hooking into the waistband of her boxers to pull them down.
“Fuck,” Vi curses, lifting up for a second to shove them down her legs and kicking them off her onto the floor, a visible wet spot on the front of them from the affect you have on her.
You don’t even give her a second before you’ve placed your hands on her thighs and attached your mouth to her clit, sucking it into your mouth and burying your nose in the hair surrounding it.
Vi moans in surprise, her hand immediately coming down to your head as her other clenches the arm of the chair. She pushes her hand through the front of your hair to move it away from your face so she can see you looking up at her, eyes fluttering shut every now and then as pleases little hums leave your mouth.
“Shit, you’re so pretty like this,” she pants, a small whimper leaving her lips against her will as your tongue flicks over her clit just right.
You pull back slightly to lap up the wetness seeping out of her, leaving sloppy, open-mouthed kisses as you go before burying your face in her heat again. You wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else.
FRATBOY!VI who wears her strap to a party under her clothes just so she can fuck you against the counter in the bathroom. Who loves being able to see you get more fucked out as she pounds into you in the mirror opposite.
FRATBOY!VI who, despite the image she has as a fratboy, loves the softness. Cuddling with you in the morning, watching you as you do your makeup, staying on call with you as long as you both can into the night whenever you don’t sleep together.
FRATBOY!VI who had girls all over her before you. Still does. Except now, she has the dull throbbing marks on her neck to show she is very much taken that she doesn’t even try to cover up. Not caring about who sees them.
FRATBOY!VI who loves when you ride her strap. Seeing you on top of her, tits bouncing and moans coming from your mouth every time it bottoms out inside you, she could cum just from the sight of you. Who grabs your ass in her hands to help you along when you start to falter as your orgasms builds up.
FRATBOY!VI who watches you beat all the others at beer pong. Who sits on the couch with a drink, one arm slung over the back of it where you were previously sitting, listening to the cheers from the surrounding people and the groans from the guy you were up against.
description: apothecary!reader is finding it harder and harder to stay impartial to sevika. outside of just business, sevika keeps finding her way into your life. and you…want her to stay?
warnings: fluff in the zaun way, blood, violence, slowest burn you know, emotionallystunted!reader, whipped!sevika
a/n: been fighting for my life but here i am y’all
part three here
the lock slid into place behind sevika with a soft metallic click, the door shut in its finality that would normally have had you exhaling a bidden breath. a sigh of relief, a release of tension.
you stood still for a moment after it, definitely not listening for the sound of her footsteps. definitely not overconcerned to see if she was quick or slow to leave, absolutely not curious at all to hear if she was lingering in the way that your mind is..
but your body, nevertheless, tracked the sound anyway. heavy boots against metal grating. slower now than when she had arrived. measured. reluctant almost.
and then there was silence.
the absence settled strangely through the shop, it was tangible and uncomfortable. you already found yourself missing her commentary, feeling her eyes on you whenever you spoke.
the humidifiers still hissed softly in the corners. the kettle murmured low over its perpetual flame. somewhere overhead old pipes knocked through the walls in uneven rhythm. the record player crackled beneath a low guitar line while candlelight climbed lazily across hanging herbs and glass bottles. and suddenly the space felt intimate and you realized just how comfortable you let yourself be mere minutes ago.
you turned back toward the worktable before the feeling could root itself properly, and you resumed your dissections.
ekko was still standing near the center of the room watching you. thinking. it was irritating and grating because you could practically hear the gears turning and you knew you weren’t going to like whatever it was that his brain conjured up.
one hand rubbed absently against the inside of his elbow while the other stayed tucked beneath his arm. restless. unsure. he only got still like this when something genuinely bothered him, and you could literally hear his mouth opening and closing periodically.
you continued your ministrations, almost absentmindedly.
“you’re staring,” you remarked mildly.
“you’re acting weird.”
you scoffed softly. “how unlike me.”
normally that would’ve earned an immediate grin from him, this time his mouth only twitched faintly before flattening again.
“…what was she still doing here?” he asked.
direct.
you kept your attention on the mushroom beneath your blade. pale blue spores dusted across your fingertips as you sliced cleanly through the stem. you feel yourself trying to explain in your mind before you open your mouth. because really, why was she still there?
“having tea.” you tersely decide on saying.
“with you.” he prods with every word he speaks.
“generally how tea works.” and you step back with every sentence you speak.
“venus.”
there it was, the tone that meant he was trying very hard not to push too hard. you sighed softly through your nose because whenever he took up this tone it did mean that he would eventually poke too far and test your restraint.
“she stayed after silco left.” you said.
“silco?”
“work.” you dismissed, definitely holding that as close as you can, the sharpness slipped out before you could smooth it over.
ekko noticed immediately, his shoulders tightened slightly beneath his jacket before easing again and now he’s being careful and that irritated you more than it should have. you knew how he felt about silco, but if he could forgive jinx- he would have to find it in his heart to tolerate you.
“we had tea, thats all.” you said softly, focusing back on your work.
“she doesn’t exactly seem like the lingering-over-tea type,” he said and there goes that fucking tone again.
“maybe she was captivated by my hospitality, would that be so hard to believe?” you joked, smiling ever so slightly but when you flick your eyes over at him you find the same overly pensive stare that he’s apparently dedicated to giving you.
“she looked at you like she wanted to bite you.” he says, and you roll your eyes but you can’t ignore the heat that prickled beneath your skin.
“she’s expressive,” you said mildly.
ekko barked out a laugh. “no, she isn’t.”
“…fair.”
that finally pulled a brief grin from him before concern settled back over his face and he started watching you too carefully.
you became abruptly aware of yourself in deeply irritating ways. the looseness still lingering in your shoulders from earlier. the warmth beneath your ribs where sevika’s hands had rested against your waist. the phantom memory of her laugh vibrating low through the room. it was a betrayal, the awareness that your body had before your thoughts managed to catch up.
you hated involuntary things. ekko’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“…you’re frowning.”
your knife paused. barely but enough. you resumed immediately, expression flattening smooth again.
“is that out of the ordinary?”
“are you upset?” your stomach tightened and you finally gave up on what you were doing. you leaned back against the counter loosely, crossing your arms.
“i’m just thinking, that's all.”
“about her?” he asked and you cut him a look of exhaustion.
“yeah, she’s interesting. is it wrong for me to think about what you’re insinuating?” he pulls his lips into a thin line, and shakes his head no at you while you talk. he stared at you, like he was watching a train crash and you hated it.
ekko exhaled sharply through his nose, fingers dragging over the back of his neck.
“she’s spent twenty years inside silco’s camp,” he said carefully. “you know what survival turns people like that into.” he lectures, as he does, and you largely try to tune it out but it is irritating all the same. you hated your inability to pass on conversation. anything said is interesting and worthy of your ear, even in times like this where it really, really pisses you off.
“you say that like zaun happened to her and not to me.” a silence passes between you two and this is why you hate conversations like this. ekko was bad at masking his disappointment in you. and yes, you were detached and aloof or whatever reductive word he could use to make it seem like it’s not a big deal- but it hurt.
in his mind, you were wasting your prowess on “bad” things. he thought you could heal zaun if you wanted to and that you chose to do this instead. and you knew there was a part of him that would always resent you for what you could have been.
“she became hard because she survived?” you asked softly. “what exactly do you think happened to me?”
“that’s not what I meant.” he says, and you believe him. but he’s still wrong. he thinks that you and sevika are different because he doesn’t like her and he finds himself liking you. he needs to make that make sense and you know, unfortunately, that it just doesn’t make sense.
your fingers moved automatically now, needing something to do, you wipe the blade clean despite the fact that it already was.
“sevika’s violence is visible,” you continued quietly. “mine isn’t. that doesn't make me a saint, ekko. it makes me underhanded.” you set the knife down again and try your absolute hardest to be still and focus on the conversation that you’re having but it’s like your body is protecting you.
“i know what you’ve done.”
“yes,” you murmured. “intellectually.” that made him look at you.
“you still look at me and see someone separate from people like her, and i’m really not.”
“that’s not true.”
“which part?”
ekko rubbed both hands over his face before looking back at you. he’s always had a little bit of a short fuse. not in any meaningful way, but he was stubborn.
“i don’t even know why i bother to have these conversations with you, you always think you’re smarter than everybody else in the room.” it comes out rude and abrasive in a way that you’ve never been to him, in a way that you wish he wouldn’t be to you. but zaun affects everyone.
and that’s what it took for your body to finally go still. withdrawn.
ekko regretted it instantly. you saw it happen across his face in real time. but you just looked on, waited for the retraction you knew was coming. and that’s the worst part about arguing with ekko- there’s nothing to argue. he’d go too far and then he’d retract it and leave you with no basis to be mad.
“venus-”
“that’s a deeply unfair thing to say to somebody who survived by needing to be.” your voice stayed calm, but your body jolted to action. you made your way to the kettle and busied yourself with making a fresh cup of tea. that made it worse, you watched ekko shift on his feet.
finally, he started pacing, unable to stay still anymore.
“you think understanding something means you can control it,” he said. “you think because you can predict danger you’re somehow above consequence.”
“…nothing’s happening between us, and i’m not going to argue with you about it.” you say and continue what you’re doing.
“-she’s like twice your age!” he blurts out and you actually look over your shoulder in genuine shock.
“...that’s your issue…seriously?” you find yourself wanting to laugh, partly because boy is he desperate to change your mind but also because its…not true…?
“i dont know!” he yelps practically.
“she has a decade on me at most, gods.” you giggle despite yourself.
“do you even know how old she i-”
“she's thirty three!” you find yourself yelling back, face twisted in amusement and completely incredulous. the second the words left your mouth, ekkos eyes closed.
“oh, you’re already in trouble.” you groaned softly and covered your face with one hand.
“please leave my establishment.” that startled a real laugh out of him. it was warm. familiar and fond despite everything.
“there she is.”
“i’m going to poison you.” ekko grinned faintly before it softened again, it reminded you of when you were both a little younger. you might even be able to credit him for teaching you how to smile and laugh. you feel your smile in your eyes
“just be careful, okay?” you lowered your hand slowly, and for a second neither of you spoke. part of you was frustrated, as you tended to be, but the smarter part was intact enough to realize that he was expressing his care in the wrong way.
because beneath all the frustration and teasing sat the real thing neither of you wanted to say aloud: he was afraid of losing you to something ugly. and you were afraid he still didn’t understand you enough to realize you’d been ugly for years.
-
the shop felt too small after ekko left. not physically, just suddenly too full of yourself. and if there's one thing you hated, it was thinking about yourself. every single one of your thoughts, for the past half an hour have been about yourself and you could feel the thrum of your pulse in your stupid chest.
the lingering flush of your cheeks every time your mind caught on the memory of sevika’s hands at your waist, the thought of her strength and…ability.
annoying.
you moved through the shop resetting things that did not need resetting. straightening bottles. re-folding already folded cloth. reorganizing dried herbs by absolutely meaningless distinctions. you tried to sketch, listen to music, concoct new things and none of it was silencing you.
aether watched from atop the worktable with visible judgment.
“don’t,” you muttered to her.
she blinked slowly and stupidly, undoubtedly unburdened by the stress you certainly were. she meowed at you, again, in an incredibly judgemental tone.
“i am not arguing with you, cat.” you grumbled, blowing a tray hair from your face.
you sighed. the record player crackled softly behind you. low guitar. familiar. usually comforting, but tonight it just made the room feel crowded.
eventually, unable to stand yourself any longer, you reached for your coat. because in your time of need, you knew zaun would be there for you. to swallow you and your problems whole and give you something else to ponder in a way that only zaun could.
the path you took was different every time, because you were smart enough to know that predictable paths are dangerous. and for what its worth, you didn't really go outside much. at the risk of sounding pathetic, you worked, listened to music and visited ekko. occasionally you danced at babettes to keep up appearances but shit- you loved your shop. you barely even went home.
zaun was never safe, but you found it peaceful when you were in the right and you were in the right mood tonight.
the air outside hits cool against your face, carrying the familiar undercity blend of chemical runoff, rust, smoke and distant food stalls closing for the night. neon shimmered wetly across puddles beneath your feet as you walked. your boots made the smallest most imperceptible sound, and somehow it’s all you could hear.
you wandered aimless at first, letting your mind drift as you basked in your anonymity. your satchel swung by your side underneath your coat, hidden from the countless thieves you knew lurked from the shadows.
there was an overlook near the older refinery district you liked when your thoughts became too loud. half-collapsed scaffolding wrapped around an abandoned processing tower, high enough to catch the glow of the fissures below without drawing much traffic.
nobody ever bothered you there, and it was one of the only places you could see a place that wasn’t zaun..
your boots echoed softly against old, damp metal as you cut through a narrower side lane toward it.
and then-
“…you think i’m fuckin’ stupid?”
you stopped immediately, not because of the words, but the voice. sevika.
low and rough in a way you had never heard her be, not that you’ve known her particularly long. it was controlled in that particular way that meant violence was already happening, and that was a tone you were familiar with.
your body reacted before your thoughts did. pulse tightening once beneath your throat. then instinct followed just as quickly: keep walking.
zaun taught that lesson early: don’t look, don’t linger.
you did not involve yourself in sounds coming from dark alleys after midnight unless you were prepared to become part of them. and you never were, you were adamant about that. you never wandered into trouble, but it always found you. on your terms, on your turf.
so you kept moving.
three steps. and then you heard a crack. it was a sickening sound, gross even. you preferred more quiet ways of harm. but your preference was of no importance as the sound of meat against metal followed by a choked sound that barely qualified as human rang out through the lanes.
your pace slowed despite yourself. annoying, again.
the mouth of the alley sat partially obscured ahead between two rusted support beams leaking steam into the dark. shimmerlight bled faintly across wet concrete inside.
you should’ve kept walking.
instead your eyes lifted, just briefly. enough to see three men. two of them were standing, watching in the way that everybody in zaun did. call it casually cruel or survival instinct but there they stood and sevika, sevika stood over a man bloodied and mangled on the floor.
blood streaked across the knuckles of her good hand. her mechanical arm whirred low beside her, wet at the joints with something dark and slick. one of the standing men looked pale beneath the refinery light, posture rigid in the unmistakable stance of somebody trying very hard not to be a victim.
the man on the ground coughed wetly, she no doubt cracked his nose and now the blood was trying to escape from his mouth.
sevika crouched slowly in front of him. not rushed and not emotional but controlled.
“you sold shimmer through my routes,” she said with an even voice.
that was the thing your body recognized immediately.
efficiency.
the man tried to speak through blood.
“i-i didn’t know-” sevika grabbed him by the jaw before he could finish and sue you, you found yourself looking at the curve of her muscles as she exerted that amount of force. she was so irritatingly beautiful and the neon lights cast a purple hue over her that caught on every curve and swell of her muscles in a really unfair way.
her fingers locked against his face hard enough to force a sharp cry from his throat.
“you knew enough to hide it.”
the alley stayed silent after that, not because nobody was afraid.
because everyone was.
you watched her carefully now despite yourself. the precision of her movements, the restraint. the way she escalated deliberately instead of impulsively.
there was no performance in it, no real enjoyment either. just function.
something cold moved quietly through your chest, recognition. then the man spit blood onto the concrete near her boot. bad decision. you felt yourself leaning in to watch more, like a trainwreck almost.
sevika hit him once. so fast that if you had blinked you fully believed you would have missed it. and it was ugly and violent enough that his head cracked sharply against the pavement. a part of you wanted to laugh, its almost like the universe was on ekko’s side. see y/n, look at her. look what she does.
one of the other men flinched as the sound echoed unpleasantly through the alley.
you should definitely leave.
but instead, you found yourself watching the aftermath.
the way sevika’s shoulders rose once with breath, the subtle instability when she straightened afterward, the sweat on her brow, the rise and fall of her chest and you let your eyes roam down, down… down to the blood running darker down one side of her shirt beneath the leather.
definitely not his blood.
your eyes narrowed slightly.
one of the standing men finally muttered:
“…that’s enough.”
sevika turned her head toward him slowly and the man immediately went quiet. then her eyes caught yours. you wonder how long she had known you were there for, if she had even known at all.
she went almost completely still. and the shift in her expression was almost imperceptible if you didn’t know how to look for those things. but you knew.
her posture tightened first, then her jaw and then something colder flickered behind her eyes.
awareness. you had seen her.
for a second neither of you moved. and honestly, you didn’t know what to do. you had just been caught in your voyeurism, should you wave?
the man at her feet groaned weakly, having you tear your eyes from her and onto him. he was going to die soon if he didn’t get patched up. and even if he did get patched up his life is forever changed now, you knew that. sevika knew that you knew that.
sevika stepped back from him immediately. too immediately and of course you noticed. maybe she thought you were pulled to help him by some medical oath you never took.
one of the chemrunners followed her gaze toward you, visibly startled.
“you know her?”
sevika didn’t answer him, her eyes stayed on yours instead.
you felt strangely visible beneath that stare now, because suddenly she looked almost braced for something. disgust maybe. definitely judgment.
you weren’t entirely sure.
your gaze drifted lower briefly at the blood soaked through the fabric beneath sevika’s ribs in slow dark saturation. the source.
not at all deep enough to kill quickly. but absolutely deep enough to become a problem if ignored. when your eyes lifted back to her face, sevika’s expression had hardened completely again.
“you shouldn’t be here,” she said.
your brows lifted faintly, “i was under the impression zaun lacked curfews.”
one of the men nearby shifted awkwardly, sevika tried to ignore him but decided on, “you can go.”
your gaze dropped once more to the blood at her side, and as the patch grows darker and darker your brows furrowed more and more and your concern deepened in the pit of your stomach.
“you’re injured.” the words slipped out before you consciously decided to say them.
sevika stilled and the reaction was immediate enough to almost feel physical. not because you’d seen her violent but because you’d noticed she was hurt instead. for a moment the alley went completely quiet, like even the refinery pipes overhead seemed to dull into the background.
sevika just stared at you. like you were bothering her almost, her gaze didn’t soften at all. it wasn’t hard or threatening but definitely thrown, maybe even irritated.
like she had prepared herself for disgust and instead received assessment instead and she couldn’t tell if she liked that or hated it..
your gaze stayed fixed on the blood soaking steadily through the fabric at her side. dark saturation spreading beneath leather. the wound had happened earlier, you thought. before this. her breathing was too measured now, too practiced around the pain. she’d been functioning through it.
of course she had. one of the chemrunners looked uneasily between the two of you.
“…sevika?”
“get him out of here,” she muttered without looking away from you.
the man on the ground groaned weakly. the others hauled him upright quickly, disappearing deeper into the refinery district with hurried footsteps and lowered heads. then the alley emptied.
leaving only you and sevika beneath the purple hue of the shimmerlight.
water dripped somewhere overhead and your eyes moved once more to the blood at her side.
“it’s not superficial, and you need help.”
sevika’s jaw flexed faintly.
“i’ll live.”
“mm. probably. but you could definitely live if you let the literal apothecary at your service help you.”
that earned the smallest twitch at the corner of her mouth before it disappeared again, and you took that as an invitation to step closer. sevika stiffened immediately, the alley suddenly felt too narrow.
“you don’t have to look at me like that,” she muttered.
your brows knit faintly. “like what?”
“like you’re figuring me out.”
you almost smiled, a little too late for concern there.
instead you tilted your head slightly. “i’m always figuring something out. but give me some grace, you're literally bleeding through your shirt.”
“i noticed.”
“and yet you remain here.”
her eyes narrowed faintly at your tone.
“you always this irritating after midnight?”
“usually worse.” a rough laugh escaped her before she could stop it. low. brief. warm enough to hit you physically. annoying, annoying, annoying, annoying.
your body consistently reacted to her in ways that increasingly felt like betrayal.
“you’re losing blood at a steady enough rate to become stupid within the hour,” you said mildly. “which for you would probably present subtly.”
sevika barked another laugh, “you flirt like a real asshole, you know that?”
“well, aren’t you lucky to know that about me?” you smiled at her through your lashes, tilting your head back enough to get a good look at her face up close. clinically, you couldn’t help yourself from scanning for more superficial injuries but what you wouldn’t admit to her is that you just love looking at her face.
her eyes lingered on your face too long after that. heavy. you felt it settle low beneath your ribs.
“…shop?” she asked finally.
the answer should have been yes. instead your eyes drifted upward toward the refinery scaffolding towering above the lanes. the overpass.
quiet.
empty.
yours.
your brother used to take you there when the city became too loud. the memory arrived suddenly enough to make your chest tighten, and it caught you off guard. you shake your head, too jerky and too unlike yourself.
you buried it immediately.
“…not the shop,” you said.
that visibly surprised her.
“you go other places?”
you smiled and shrugged one shoulder lightly. “when i can’t stand to be there, yeah i do.”
sevika looked at you strangely after that. like she understood there was another answer beneath the one you gave her but knew better than to pull at it. you gestured vaguely upward instead.
“there’s a place nearby.”
-
the climb was quiet.
metal stairs groaned beneath your combined weight while the lanes fell away beneath you in fractured neon and steam. wind curled cold through the old refinery skeleton, carrying less chemical stink the higher you climbed. you felt yourself breathing easier, and your shoulders dropped with this new weight lifted. it was dangerous up here, you could almost forget what lurked below.
sevika stayed half a step behind you, close enough that you could feel her there constantly. her hand came up to rest at the small of your back when she was anticipating a shaky step and you absolutely ignored the feeling it stirred in your stomach.
and you hated how aware your body remained of her presence, and how stupidly concerned she was with you when she was in obvious pain.
by the time you reached the overpass, zaun glowed beneath you like exposed circuitry.
the platform jutted crookedly out over the fissures below, one side half-collapsed into darkness. wind moved sharper here, tugging loose strands of your hair free from their tie. your skirt whipped around you violently in the wind, exposing the skin you only exposed at babettes.
you moved immediately toward the far wall.
“sit.”
sevika lowered herself onto an old metal crate with a grunt.
“you bring all your alleyway victims here?”
“you’re hardly a victim of me-”
“indulge me.” she cuts you off with a smile as she sat on an abandoned crate, huffing on her way down.
“well…you’re special. you look… nice hurt.” that startled a real laugh out of her.
longer this time. her head tipped back slightly when she laughed, eyes closing for half a second. you watched her jaw and the curve of her neck as the sound rolled low out of her chest and settled somewhere hot inside you before you could stop it.
you hated that immediately. you knelt in front of her before your thoughts could become inconvenient. settling between her legs, that were so unfortunately spread on either side of you. which you knew she knew was attractive. that made it so much worse.
the second your fingers brushed the hem of her shirt though, sevika went completely still. at least it wasn’t just you.
she was focused, she watched you carefully. she watched as your hands slid beneath torn fabric carefully, pushing leather and blood-soaked cloth aside. her warm skin met your fingertips and the heat bloomed from your fingers, up your arm and settled in your chest.
sevika inhaled sharply through her nose. not from pain, you noted.
the wound sat low along her ribs. knife. deep enough to matter. blood welled sluggishly along the edges when you pressed lightly around it. the only thing holding the wound was a now completely blood- damped napkin that stuck to her shirt when you peeled it back.
“mm,” you murmured softly. “sloppy.”
“was busy.”
“with what?”
“getting stabbed apparently.”
you snorted quietly despite yourself. your hands moved automatically now. cleaning first. pressure second. assessment third. but the intimacy of it settled slowly between you anyway, no matter how hard you tried to separate your stupid chest from your brain.
the wind was blowing in her hair, exposing the curve of her cheekbones. the city below was a distant thought. it didn’t matter. not when your knees were slotted between hers. not when you could smell her underneath all of the blood, unmuddied by the herbs of your shop. not when your fingers danced against her skin, maybe lingering where they didn't need to.
sevika watched you the entire time, you could feel it. her gaze was always heavy. intent.
your own breathing had become irritatingly shallow.
“do you just walk around with these supplies?,” she questioned suddenly.
“you’d be pretty fucked if i didn’t, but yes. you never know. i also walk around with poison, and medicine.” you said softly, pressing your lips together in concentration and annoyance at the swell in your chest. the wind was actively working against you, constantly blowing your hair in your face and just when you found yourself inclined to complain-
sevika brushed it behind your ear, seemingly without thought and your brain short-circuited right then and there. you tilted your head up to meet her gaze, and thanked her in the silent way that thanks passes between two people hell bent on not acknowledging something. the cool of her metal finger settled behind your ear and you snapped your focus back to her wound.
you heard her exhale a laugh more to herself than anything and you chewed the inside of your lip to maintain the concentration you need to have in order to do what you need to do. her hand fell back limp onto her lap.
your fingers paused briefly against her ribs, feeling the hard muscle there and you breath out slow as heat pooled in your stomach.
“you weren’t scared?” she asked, obviously referencing her earlier fight.
“should I have been?”
“i hit him pretty hard.”
“you seemed like you were making a point. who am i to judge, i almost poisoned your boss.”
that seemed to catch her off guard. most people probably saw brutality first when they looked at sevika, you figured- you saw restraint. she could have definitively killed him, but she didn’t. she exercises more restraint than you. you ponder as your hands move absentmindedly, stitching, dabbing alcohol.
sevika’s eyes dragged slowly over your face now, searching for something there. and you felt yourself fixing your face under her gaze. trying to i dont know…look…nicer? less scowly.
“you always understand things this easily?”
“no,” you said softly. “just ugly things, i guess.”
something shifted in her expression at that. recognition.
the wind curled cold around the overpass but heat radiated steadily from sevika beneath your hands.
you reached for clean bandages from your satchel, letting your other hand rest on the expanse of her thigh and sevika’s hand moved suddenly- fast- catching your wrist before you could pull away. your breath hitched before you could stop it.
sevika seemed to have surprised herself too, catching you before she seemed to know what to do with the power. her grip wasn’t rough, just firm. warm fingers wrapped around your pulse.
the both of you seemed abruptly aware of that fact at the same time.
your eyes lifted slowly to hers. the city noise below faded into something distant and meaningless.
she looked at you strangely now. not teasing in the way that she tended to be- not hungry exactly.
worse, careful.
“i didn’t want you to see that.” she had said, letting go of your wrist. you tilted your head at her, trying to understand. she busied her hands, one of them tracing the stitches. unfortunately it drew your attention back to a part of her body you really needed to ignore right now.
“if i didn’t see it, we wouldn’t be here. don’t tell me you’d rather be somewhere else…”
sevika’s expression changed instantly.
small, but real.
you watched it happen in the space between breaths. the carefulness remained, but something beneath it loosened slightly. something warmer. more dangerous.
“wouldn’t have climbed six flights bleeding if i wanted to be anywhere else,” she muttered.
the wind curled sharply around the overpass, catching loose strands of your hair and throwing them across your face. below you zaun glowed in fractured neon and refinery haze, all rust-red lights and chemical blue shimmer bleeding through the dark. you became abruptly aware of your position then. still kneeling between her knees. still close enough to feel the heat coming off her body through the cold night air. still touching her.
stupid.
you looked back down at the wound immediately, focusing on the fresh bandage wrapped low around her ribs and making sure that your eyes didn’t drift too low.
“try not to romanticize medical treatment,” you murmured. “it encourages me.”
a rough laugh slipped out of her. low. warm. dangerously pleased with itself, dangerously pleasing to you.
“you always talk this much when you’re nervous?”
“i don’t get nervous.”
“right.” she hummed.
the sound alone felt smug. you tightened the wrap around her ribs perhaps a little more aggressively than necessary and sevika grunted softly beneath her breath.
“there she is.”
you frowned faintly, smoothing the edge of the bandage flat against the hard plane of her stomach. your fingertips brushed warm skin in the process and immediately your body betrayed you again. you could feel her breathing beneath your hands now. slow. controlled. the steady rise and fall shifting lightly against your fingertips every few seconds.
her breaths were coming out with more…sound… than before. shallow little sighs at the pressure you were applying. maybe you’re crazy, but something about her injured was really doing something for you right now that you needed. to. stop.
your own breathing had become frustratingly uneven.
the silence stretched between you after that, and it wasn’t awkward. it was worse than awkward. the wind hissed through broken scaffolding overhead while somewhere far below machinery groaned through the lower lanes, but up here the city felt distant. swallowed beneath height and darkness and the low mechanical whir of sevika’s arm resting against her thigh.
you became aware of her watching you again.
“you have a staring problem.”
“so you keep telling me.”
your eyes lifted despite yourself and immediately you regretted it, sevika was already looking at your mouth.
the realization hit hard enough to make your pulse stumble and you looked away immediately, but that only made you more aware of everything else. the heat of her body. your sides caged in between her muscular thighs. the smell of blood and smoke and metal beneath the cleaner scent of your herbs.
your thoughts stalled abruptly. sevika’s hand moved first.
her fingers closed slowly around your wrist where it rested against her side, giving you more than enough time to pull away if you wanted to.
you didn’t.
your breath caught softly anyway and you saw the moment she noticed. her thumb shifted once against the inside of your wrist, directly over your pulse.
tiny movement. devastating. now she knows exactly how affected you are. the both of you went still after that. not frozen exactly but focused.
your pulse beat traitorously hard beneath her fingers and you hated that she could probably feel it. sevika’s eyes remained fixed on your face now, searching it with an intensity that made your skin feel too tight.
“you keep looking at me so pretty,” she said quietly. your throat tightened unexpectedly.
your body leaned back automatically before the rest of you could follow. only an inch. enough that sevika absolutely noticed. something flickered briefly across her face at that, not irritation but awareness. the more time you spend around her the more you hated how attentive she was.
“you should probably let go of me,” you murmured.
“should i ?” the question immediately settled low in your stomach.
you finally looked at her again, which was another mistake entirely.
the city lights cut sharp lines across her face up here. the scar through her brow. the bruising beginning dark along her jaw. blood still streaked across the knuckles of her good hand where she’d split someone open less than an hour ago. everything was highlighted in clarity that you’ve never had before and there is not a single flaw on her face
you should have found her frightening but instead your body reacted with terrible, instinctive recognition.
sevika’s fingers tightened once around your wrist. a question.
that somehow made it infinitely worse.
the space between you narrowed slowly after that. almost unconsciously. neither of you seem entirely certain who moved first. you noticed the warmth of her breath before anything else, then the scrape of metal when her prosthetic shifted slightly against the crate beneath her.
your own breathing had almost ceased completely, and you waited with bated breath. she leaned closer and closer and her eyes, devastatingly, could not stay on yours. she was entranced by your lips and you couldn’t stop searching her face for something. she moved slow enough to stop herself and more importantly- slow enough for you to stop her.
you didn’t. not immediately.
your pulse hammered violently beneath your skin now. you could feel it in your throat, in your wrists, somewhere deep beneath your ribs. you could kiss her.
the realization arrived suddenly enough to feel catastrophic, not because you didn’t want to because you really, really did. but she wasn’t stable, or safe and neither were you and neither was zaun.
love leaves, love dies.
and one thing you know for certain is that love destroys what’s left behind.
your body pulled back before your mind fully caught up. small movement. enough to break the moment cleanly in half.
you looked down immediately, fingers fumbling with the edge of the cloth covering her stitches, flattening what was already flat. making sure it stayed in place. removing the blood soaked rag she used prior and discarding it on the floor.
“you’re going to tear the stitches,” you said quietly.
silence. complete. sevika went very still. you squeezed your eyes shut and reached for your satchel to organize your things as your work here was done.
heat crawled hot and humiliating up your throat and you focused aggressively on adjusting the already perfectly secured bandage just to have something to do with your hands.
finally sevika leaned back slightly, releasing your wrist. the absence of warmth felt immediate and you know she was disappointed, even if she would never show it on her face.
“what are we doing?” she asked quietly.
the question wasn’t mocking, or teasing and there was no smile on her face or in her voice. that made it infinitely worse and your jaw tightened in complete upset- remorse, guilt?
“you were stabbed less than an hour ago. i hardly think this qualifies as ideal timing.” it was a poor attempt at a joke. you obviously knew that but the absence of a laugh made your head swim.
when you flickered your gaze over to her face, she was looking at you. concerned.
you shake your head once and tied off the final bandage and sat back on your heels, finally putting actual distance between your bodies. cold air rushed into the space immediately and neither of you seemed particularly pleased about it.
“you should avoid heavy lifting for a few days,” you said clinically.
“i throw grown men for work.”
“unfortunate.”
“and if I ignore you?”
“you’ll bleed again.”
sevika hummed softly, eyes still fixed on you.
“because you definitely wouldn’t enjoy patching me up. right?”
your stomach flipped hard enough to irritate you and you stood abruptly before the feeling could settle deeper.
“you are deeply insufferable while injured.” you brushed your hands clean against the excess of your skirt, no doubt leaving streaks of blood down your sides.
“and you get weird when people look at you too long.”
“just you.” you spoke too freely.
something softer flickered briefly across her face after that. not triumph. not amusement.
understanding. which somehow felt far more dangerous.
the wind tugged sharply at your coat again, cold against overheated skin. sevika stood slowly after a moment, one hand pressing briefly against her side and you immediately tracked the movement automatically. the pressure. the pain level. the blood loss.
sevika caught you doing it and her mouth twitched faintly.
“see?” she murmured. “there you go again.”
you frowned slightly. “what am i doing?”
“looking at me all pretty, like i matter.” your eyes search each other, she’s prodding to get you to say something she knows you won't say without any encouragement and you’re looking in her eyes trying to find somebody safe enough to say it to. you looked away first, because you’re a coward.
“don’t you?” you replied evenly. she moves closer to you and for one terrible second you thought she might try again.
and the awful thing was, you weren’t entirely sure you would be able to stop her this time. that realization unsettled you enough that you stepped back first. tiny movement. still obvious.
sevika noticed, of course she did.
but instead of looking irritated, she looked almost patient which was so much worse.
“you should head back home to get some rest, i’m sure silco would understand.” you said quietly. you grab her hand and unfold her palm facing upward and place a small vial in her hand and close her fingers gently around it, feeling her gaze on the profile of your face, “for the pain.”
a rough laugh escaped her.
“you kick all your patients out this fast?”
“only the difficult ones.”
“thought i was special?”
you ignored the warmth that sentence caused entirely on principle, but found yourself trying to smile despite it. sevika lingered another second before finally nodding once. then she turned toward the stairs.
halfway there, she stopped.
she didn’t look back when she spoke.
“i’ll see you?”
“yes.”
then she disappeared down the metal staircase before you could decide whether you wanted to follow her or stay here, alone.
so you stayed alone, propping your head on your arms crossed over the railing. looking out below at the shitty city you call your home. and then you look up, at piltover.
wondering who you and sevika could have been if you had been born anywhere else.
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-
emo!choso who’s so down bad for the most popular girl on campus.
everyone knows you.
you're the girl half the campus wants to get with, the entire campus wants to befriend. you're known. laughter trails behind you like glitter when you talk to people, and your name floats through conversations even when you're not there.
you're all smiles and pretty hair and these eyes. they're so captivating. you're hard to miss. choso doesn't miss you.
he notices you every day. you're everywhere in his head. you ruined his life the first time he saw you walking with your friend, sunlight catching in your hair and wearing a top in the prettiest shade of pink he'd ever seen.
choso watches you in class, hoodie pulled low, thumb tracing over his snakebite piercings. the way you tap your pen against your notebook, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you're trying to concentrate.
sometimes your eyes flick over to him when the prof calls on him, just a second longer than necessary. those moments keep him up until late at night, one hand holding his phone, scrolling through your instagram highlights, the other wrapped tightly around his cock.
and god, does he wish he had the courage to talk to you. he's seen the guys you're around - the frat types, the confident ones. not him, with his dark hair and sunken eyes and tattoos.
you've got his mind in a loop, all over again, and he tries to put his mind off while heading to the campus convenience store.
the bell over the door chimes. he doesn't even have to look.
"do they still have the good iced coffees here?"
you’re talking to the cashier, but it might as well be aimed straight at choso. every word lands somewhere too close.
when he turns, he holds back a breath because wow, you're even prettier up close, and wow he's scared he's standing too close to you.
you notice him noticing. your eyes meet his. "hey," you say like it's the most normal thing in the world.
choso forgets how to exist.
“…hi.” it comes out rough, his voice gone dry.
you smile softly. "i've seen you around."
his brain fully short-circuits. "you...have?" smooth. nice one.
you tilt your head slightly. "yeah. you're in my psych class, right? you always sit at the back."
“yeah.” brilliant conversationalist. truly.
but you don't seem put off. if anything, your smile deepens. "i always wondered why you look so intense all the time," you add, almost teasing.
if only you knew. he swallows. "i, uh...just thinking about class. i guess."
"cool," you say after a pause. "i don't really pay attention in class."
choso holds himself back before he says ' i know '.
"well, i'm glad i finally talked to you," you say lightly.
finally? the word echoes in choso's brain, electric.
"me too," he says before he can stop the words from coming out.
your expression flickers, and you say, "maybe you should sit closer next class. so you don't have to stare from the back."
choso's heart does something violent in his chest. “i—yeah. maybe.”
you nod, satisfied, like a decision’s been made. "perfect."
you grab your drink, give a quick goodbye to the cashier, and head for the door.
right before you leave, you glance back. "see you, choso."
you sat against the headboard on your nintendo, humming to the cheery background tune in the new tomodachi life demo. you were customizing you and your boyfriend into the game, so there choso lied on your chest, messing with one of the many scattered plushies on the bed and listening to your mindless commentary on the game.
“i completely forgot our heights sh– ohmigosh, i'm dancing. wait, stop, stop dancing. i can’t do the heights, tell her to stop what the hell.”
but choso wasn’t fully there. his bare chest was flushed against your waist, his cheek against your rising and falling chest, and your bare legs were entangled with his as if you were one. of course he was turned on right now. he couldn’t help it when he’s so close to you.
he wanted your hands in his hair, your gaze upon him, your attention solely his—safe to say he was needy. he was restless, taking staggering breaths as he tried to allow the feeling to pass. his efforts were obviously futile, as his cock was hard against the bed, throbbing at every shift. his hand left the plushie, grazing over your thigh, watching the goosebumps appear across your skin. he could hear your breath hitch, your finger twitching, but your eyes stayed glued to the game.
“baby,” he murmured softly, barely above a whisper. he rose, hovering over your body, his brows furrowed with pleading eyes. his hands trailed up your arms, intertwining his fingers with yours before slowly removing the nintendo from your hands.
his lips pecked your cheek, traveling to the corners of your lips, “can’t you put this down for a second?”
your protests were weak( if there was any tbh) , “cho, i was making you…”
“but i’m right here?”
“smartass, i mean-“
before you knew it, his lips greedily latched onto yours, pulling you into a deep and desperate kiss. his tongue immediately slid into your mouth, twirling around yours.
he lifted your leg, resting it on his hip and placing a knee between them. you could feel his erection pulsating against you, teasing the inner corners of your thighs. you ate up his eager whimpers as his hands trekked up your thighs, slipping under your shorts and gripping your ass, leaving the area aching and red. his other hand found its way under your shirt, groping your breasts, rolling your buds between his two fingers. you squirmed under his touch, hands clinging to and scratching his biceps as you moaned pathetically into his mouth.
he broke this kiss for barely a second before swooping back in, devouring you whole, completely drunk of your taste. his hands left your nipple, instead holding the back of your head and pushing you deeper into the kiss. slick built up in your panties, soaking through and leaving a wet patch. lewd, wet smacking sounds filled the room as salvia dripped down his chin.
you could feel yourself growing hotter at the moment, feeling sweat build up between you two. before you died of overheating, he broke the kiss. a sinful string of salvia between your tongues followed for a split second before detaching.
both of your pupils were blown out, heaving and panting like dogs in heat. your fingers grew weak against his arms. “mm...ok, i’ll put the game down.”
i need to be reminded that im writing shitty fanfic for fun. and it doesn't need to be perfect and I don't need to worry about everyone seeing it and hating it and no super serious editor man is gonna read it and tell me my effort needs to be thrown away and it really doesn't have to even be good and it definitely doesn't have to bend over backward to avoid every cliche that exists................... it's easier said than done
blakekathryn
kianamaiart
titsay
germansingergirl
pixelskylines
turnnoffyourmind
prguitarman
stormborns
