Blade from hsr being mean because I don't think he'd be the type to talk much in bed or outside of it with a s/o.
He'd always said and thought words become unnecessary when you're truly in love and familiar with someone, he'd still be happy to hear you talk all you want though , especially when you were shivering in his embrace and telling him he was too deep.
You'd proposed to be on top for once because it gave you more control during sex and to limit how many times you'd end up overstimulated, you can't be limping around all the time right ? But it didn't really work out that well , he really insisted on holding you close and guiding your hips up and down his dick when you were going too slow for his taste , but his grip became as bruising as always , and everything became too much all too fast until you couldn't do anything but sob and moan while he pushed his hips up to meet yours in a half thrust "too deep!! s' too much!"
You were loud but he couldn't focus on anything other than the wet slapping sounds of his skin against yours everytime he rammed into you , because no , he wasn't gentle and he knew you loved it that way.
If he didn't feel like moving much though and you both still wanted to feel each other he'd make you cockwarm him until you came from him rubbing your clit and suddenly going a bit deeper when you relax and sit still long enough , still then even if you were unmoving he'd stay quiet and only answer you with grunts and "mhms" sighing into your neck and letting you talk and whine all you want right next to his ear while you stroked his hair. He really loved it.
`ঔঌ. never did you didn’t expect for your husband, firelord!zuko to have a breeding kink? | 18+
the supporting council of the fire nation, and even several of zuko’s advisors have been adamant on one thing since your marriage to your childhood lover: producing an heir.
“yes… i know. even my ladies in waiting are asking,” you replied. the both of you were in his study, with you lounging on some cushions while he clearly was distracted from his paperwork considering the turn your conversation went.
zuko appeared hesitant, almost antsy. “really? they’re a bit annoying, aren’t they?”
you shrugged, until you just kept talking mindlessly. “it’d be nice though…wouldn’t it?”
your words made your husband furrow his eyebrows in confusion. “what would?”
“having children?” you walked over to him, sitting on his lap as his arms snaked around your waist and held you. “being pregnant…”
“you’d be a great daddy… so why don’t we try?”
“really?” his tone changed, almost laced with a bit of amusement. “are…are you sure?”
“why not?” you leaned towards him and you swore you saw the tips of his ears go red and his face slightly appear flushed.
it was a clear fact that your husband was a fast man, but before you knew it, you were naked before him, warm skin pressed against his cold desk, quills, ink, and paper scattered. he had undressed you quickly—as if you were going to run away.
“you’re sure about this?” zuko asked, beginning to align his cock to your entrance the moment you nodded, and rubbing your arousal around his length before slowly pushing in.
fuck, you really should’ve taken to account just how your husband is… because when he’s serious about something, he’s dead serious.
“mmm—zuko-! please—fuck!”
you felt almost lightheaded, with your cunt squeezing your husband’s cock almost uncontrollably while your clit throbbed immensely. the two of you have been at it for hours, going at it like damn rabbits all over his study. on the desk, the cushions, against the wall. and now? you’re riding him while he’s sat on his chair.
“you—hahhh—said you were sure,” he replied, hands squeezing at your ass and slapping it teasingly.
you could feel his loads of cum spill out of you with every harsh thrust of his hips, with your husband groaning loudly from how tight you felt around him.
it was all too much—so. damn. much. he fucks you so mean…
your arms around his neck only tightened around him the faster you went, pulling on his long hair slightly and eliciting a whine? from your husband.
“you’re gonna—shit—look so damn pretty… so fucking pretty pregnant…” he gazed up at you, almost intoxicated with how you looked riding him, rocking your hips back and forth on his cock while you whined so cutely. your maw was slack while your eyes were glued to the ceiling, and your grip on his hair only tightened (again).
until the two of you heard a knock on the door, and he covered your mouth quickly.
“fire lord zuko, your presence is requested—“
“i’m busy.”
zuko’s hips continued, slower yet still so torturous on you. he bounced you slowly yet harshly, slamming you on his cock. then came that obnoxiously loud squelch! you could cry of embarrassment… but it seemed that your lover was enjoying this.
“w-what was that?” the advisor asked.
and it wasn’t until zuko lifted your hips and slammed you onto him one last time, where you cried out in a octave you’ve never hit ever.
“gotta make sure we have that heir, right?”
.
.
.
had to… i just had to… #leastcanonthingever anyways IM CRINE THIS IS SO OOC BUT ITS OK!! also wtf is it with me and zuko smut in his firelord study
⋆✴︎˚｡ Husband!Zuko who lovesss putting you in a head locking during sex
You were completely, shamelessly addicted to Zuko’s arms.
It wasn’t just that they were big now—thick, powerful, corded with muscle from years of firebending, sword training, and carrying the weight of a nation. It was the way they felt when he used them on you. The sheer strength. The way the veins stood out when he flexed. The way his biceps bulged like warm steel when he wrapped one around your throat and held you exactly where he wanted you.
And nothing compared to doggy style.
Nothing.
Tonight the palace was quiet, the heavy curtains drawn, only the low glow of firelight flickering across Zuko’s bare chest as he stood at the edge of the massive bed. You were already on all fours in the center of it, knees spread, back arched deep, ass up and waiting. Your pussy was dripping down your thighs before he’d even touched you.
Zuko climbed onto the bed behind you, the mattress dipping under his weight. His big hands gripped your hips first, squeezing the soft flesh, thumbs digging in possessively.
“Look at you,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “Already soaked for me.”
You pushed back against him, whining. “Zuko… please.”
He leaned over you, chest pressing to your back, and you felt it—the heavy, thick length of his cock sliding between your folds, teasing your entrance. Then his right arm slid around your throat.
Your whole body lit up.
He didn’t choke you. He headlocked you. His massive bicep curled under your chin, the thick muscle pressing firmly against your neck while his forearm locked across your collarbone. His left hand braced on the bed beside your head for leverage. You were completely trapped, caged by his body, his strength, his heat.
And you moaned like you were in heat.
“Fuck—yes,” you gasped, tilting your head back into the crook of his arm. Your pussy clenched hard around nothing.
Zuko chuckled darkly against your ear, the sound vibrating through his chest into your back. “You really are crazy for these arms, aren’t you?”
You nodded frantically, already grinding back against his cock. “I love them. I love when you lock me up like this. Makes me feel so small… so owned.”
His grip tightened just enough to make your head spin in the best way. Then he pushed in.
One long, slow thrust and he buried every thick inch inside you, stretching you open until you felt him in your stomach. The headlock kept you perfectly arched, ass up higher, back bowed deep so he could sink even deeper.
Zuko groaned, low and filthy. “So fucking tight like this.”
He started moving—deep, powerful strokes that made the bed creak. Every time he bottomed out, his hips slapped against your ass, his heavy balls hitting your clit. The bicep around your throat flexed with every thrust, the muscle bulging harder against your skin. You could feel the raw power in it, the way it could crush you if he wanted, but instead it just held you right there for him to fuck.
You were drooling.
Your mouth hung open, eyes rolling back as he pounded into you. Every thrust forced a broken moan out of your throat.
“Harder,” you begged, voice hoarse. “Zuko, baby—please, use me. Fuck me like you own me.”
He snarled and gave you exactly what you wanted.
His pace turned brutal. The wet, obscene sound of his cock slamming into your soaked pussy filled the room. His left hand left the bed and reached underneath you, two thick fingers finding your swollen clit and rubbing tight, fast circles.
The headlock never loosened. His bicep stayed locked tight under your jaw, keeping your head pulled back against his shoulder so he could growl filthy praises right against your ear.
“That’s it… take this dick. Such a greedy little thing for me. You love being locked up in my arm while I ruin this pussy, don’t you?”
“Yes—yes, fuck yes—” You were shaking, thighs trembling, pussy fluttering wildly around his thick dick.
He flexed his bicep deliberately, the peak of the muscle pressing harder into the side of your neck. The pressure made everything sharper, hotter. Your vision sparkled at the edges.
“Come for me,” he ordered, voice dark and commanding. “Come while I’ve got you trapped. Let me feel how much you love my arms.”
You shattered.
Your orgasm crashed through you so hard your arms gave out. You would have collapsed face-first into the pillows if Zuko’s headlock hadn’t held you up. Your pussy clamped down on him like a vice, gushing around his cock as wave after wave rolled through you. You screamed his name, body convulsing, tears of pleasure slipping down your cheeks.
Zuko fucked you straight through it, hips never slowing, growling praises and curses as your walls milked him.
Only when you started to go limp did he loosen the headlock just enough to let you breathe properly. He pulled out, flipped you onto your back in one smooth motion, and shoved your knees up to your chest.
Then he slid back inside you in one thrust and started chasing his own release
His arms caged you again—this time both of them, one on each side of your head, biceps flexing as he drove into you hard and deep. You wrapped your legs around his waist and clung to those massive arms, kissing and biting at the thick muscle while he fucked you into the mattress.
“Gonna fill you up,” he panted, sweat dripping from his brow onto your chest. “Gonna put a baby in you tonight.”
You moaned, nails digging into his biceps. “Yes—please, Zuko. Come inside me. I need it.”
He buried his face in your neck and came with a deep, guttural groan, hips stuttering as he pumped you full, hot and thick. You felt every pulse, every spurt, and you clenched around him like you could keep it all inside.
When he finally collapsed on top of you, careful not to crush you with his full weight, his arms still surrounded you—loose now, but protective.
You pressed lazy kisses to his bicep, the one you loved so much, and whispered against his skin, “I’m never getting enough of these arms. Especially when you headlock me like that.”
Zuko laughed breathlessly, rolling to the side and pulling you against his chest. His hand drifted down to rest over your lower belly, thumb stroking gently.
“Good,” he murmured, voice warm and satisfied. “Because I plan on doing that every single night until you’re round with our baby.”
You smiled, already feeling the familiar heat building again as you nuzzled into his chest.
“Promise?”
He flexed his arm around you, letting you feel the hard swell of his bicep one more time.
“Promise.”
dividers - @/cafekitsune
an - Hiiiiii my babies! I’ve missed y’all so much, so sorry for the ghosting! I lowkey couldn’t catch a break (lmao), but I’m back and ready to serve now 𓏲ּ𝄢
he's told you this many times now, but you often brush off the firelord's ask as fleeting desire. perhaps a new fetish - the thought of seeing you knocked up and so evidently claimed by him that any time you'd leave his chambers, people would see you as his, pregnant and swollen with his child.
you didn't take him seriously at all, until he dragged you away from his council room where you'd been seated next to him the whole time, giving him such sweet, pure little looks and rubbing his thigh dangerously close to his cock, all while murmuring praises whenever he proposed a strong idea. such words could've also been used in bed, as you'd been saying things like;
"so good, zuko."
"well done, my prince."
among other words in that sultry voice of yours.
now he has you folded up in his huge bed, pushing your legs wide open as far as they'll go as he pounds his achingly swollen cock into your chubby pussy with the sole goal of pumping you full of his babies.
you cry out and dig your nails into his strong shoulders, wondering what's come into your loving husband. how he's gone from lovemaking to fucking you raw into the mattress, aiming the thick head of his cock straight for your womb and kissing your cervix each time he bottoms out.
"didn't fuck- take me seriously at all." he grunts, watching juices spill out of you as he keeps aiming his long, curved cock straight for your womb, dragging his engorged shaft along your softened sweet spots each time. it makes your toes curl and your nails cut into his flesh as pleasure overwhelms you. "i told you i wanted to get you fuckin' pregnant, and you thought i was joking. what makes you think i'd ever joke about something like that?"
"zuko!" you call his name between garbled moans, your head tipping back into the pillow when he pushes his cock flat into your cervix yet again, slowing his thrusts just enough to hit it gently, not to hurt, but to deliver a fucking message. he tuts at your whining and lets out a soft hiss as you rake your nails down his skin. the pain does not deter him at all, only encouraging to pound your puffy cunt harder.
he grabs handfuls of your tits, squeezing and rubbing his skilled fingers along your budding nipples until they're hard and stout, his tongue licking over his lips hungrily as he imagines how they'll dribble with milk once you're thoroughly bred. he leans down and pushes your breasts together so he can suck both nipples into his mouth at once, tasting the sweetness of your skin and sweat for now and fixating on how much sweeter you'll taste with milk pouring into his mouth.
he plans to fuck your cunt as long as he can while you're pregnant, too.
the new angle has his cock spearing into you impossibly deeper, and as a reaction, your pussy flutters around him, milking his cock greedily and trying to wring the cum straight out of him. one more squeeze of your velvety walls around his dick has his cock swelling up, and with a loud groan into your tits, he spills a hot, thick, heavy load right into your womb, fucking you through it in hopes that this round of cum will surely get you pregnant.
lıllılı.ıll..ılı T. Wright + B. Thomas x F! Reader ıılıı.lllııılı..lıllıl
"Take a Slice - Glass Animals ⋅" ★ ➤ ➤
𝟶𝟷:𝟻𝟷 ━━━━━━●─── 𝟶𝟹:𝟶𝟹 ⇆ ◁ ❚❚ ▷ ↻
W/C: 12.6k // Summary: A tale as old as time. You’d been wed for years, and the sparkle that you had sworn was brighter than the sun itself had dimmed. Stuck in a lackluster marriage with nowhere to go, you accepted your fate. Until your husband goes missing, and upon his return, he seems… changed.
Reborn, with an insatiable appetite for you and you alone, suddenly the picture perfect spouse- is the man sleeping next to you really the one you’d fallen for at the start?
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Tags For The Series: The “coming back wrong” trope, toxic relationships, body shaming, arguments, canon level violence, dub-con, slight dead dove, doppelgängers, alternate timelines, cunnilingus, p in v, oral receiving (m), double penetration, breeding, marking, hurt/comfort, angst, domestic fluff, descriptive gore, dry humping (yay we cheered !!), OG! Tim is a bastard, and so is Brian, Dom + Sub themes, and rituals/sacrifices
A/N: OMG GUYS MY FIRST SERIES !! I’m very excited !! This was originally supposed to be a one shot, but the story is way too complex to fit into such a short length- anyway :pp HAPPY READING !! ^3^ kisses from me !! As always, art and headers done by yours truly <3
★Back to Masterlist★
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You loved your husband.
You did, promising your heart to him the day he got down on one knee. Since you’d met him, Tim had been a careful lover, attentive and thoughtful. He didn’t exactly scream his devotion to you from the rooftops, but he didn’t have to. Showing you how important you were to him through the little things, late drives, quality time, and simply unwinding together. You were happy.
It’s not as if you needed much; you never did. Never asked for more, even when he barely said those three special words back to you. “I love you,” you’d whisper, and he’d nod. Grunting quietly, squeezing your hand so you knew it was reciprocated. It was hard for him to express himself openly, letting himself be soft, letting himself be seen.
He had told you vaguely about his upbringing, how cruel it was, and you didn’t push further outside of those short moments. The topic was a scar, one that had never quite healed, scabbed over, and was hot to the touch. Your relationship had been far from perfect since the start, yet that didn’t matter; it was more than enough. Yes, it may not have been stereotypically romantic, and maybe it’s not what you had imagined growing up.
Head in the clouds, dreaming of a knight who would sweep you off your feet, dip you with a kiss that made the stars shine brighter than they ever had. He wasn’t a fan of the dramatics, his version of a date being a long car ride and a stop at the diner. And perhaps, there was a small part of you that longed for flowers, spontaneous but planned dinners.
The whole nine yards. Where you’d doll yourself up all pretty, Tim leaning down to kiss your ring, saying something so smooth that your stomach would fill with butterflies. Still, it wasn’t a necessity, and you were grateful for the life you had. It never bothered you, that unyielding wall of his, because he consistently reassured you through action.
It was just… sometimes, the years would develop a habit of dulling things.
It wasn’t his fault. Working long hours, out in the cold, in the middle of nowhere. Being employed in lumber was no joke. He’d rise before the sun, slipping from your side without a word, only to return after dusk.
You understood that he hadn’t suddenly stopped loving you because he was more tired, simply drained by the hard labour and harsh conditions that came with the job. Though the further you got into the marriage, the more the actions that you had clung to so dearly began fading into obscurity.
Dates growing far and few in between, you couldn’t help but start to feel lonely. Neglected, when he’d inevitably come home, brushing past you with a chaste peck to the temple. You couldn’t even remember the last time he’d looked at you with anything more than mild indifference.
If you asked him, he’d say you were beautiful. Tell you that you were getting into your head for no reason, and nothing would change. You’d tried a handful of times, going shopping with your friends, buying a lacey slip to surprise him with.
The disappointment had been gutwrenching.
He had stepped through the door and glanced at you briefly. Gave you a quick kiss as he mumbled something along the lines of “That’s nice, you going out?” Going out. He’d asked you if you were going out. Not even registering it was lingerie, that the supposed love of his life was standing centre of the living room in silk and garters.
Walking to the couch, he sprawled against the cushions. Cracking open a bottle and switching on the television, Tim hadn’t spared you another glimpse. Humiliation flooded your body when you stared at the mirror, the bathroom door locked.
You inspected your reflection, how the fabric hugged your curves, and you thought it was a good choice. At least a little enticing, you’d spent hours getting ready after all. Hyping yourself up, excitedly dusting your cheeks. It was the first time in months you’d genuinely felt pretty. And the most crushing part was that he seemed bored.
His gaze didn’t sweep your frame; he didn’t grab you hungrily, kissing you breathless before tossing you on the bed. It made you feel stupid to think he’d care, embarrassed to assume he still saw you like that. In that moment, the shame felt oddly familiar. Reminding you of an instance in the past.
Brian. Tim’s best friend. His right-hand man, they grew up together, inseparable from the start. He never liked you. Of course, he hadn’t explicitly stated the fact, yet it didn’t make it any less obvious. You’d interrupted once, when they were hanging out near the porch, chatting next to his truck parked in the driveway. Missing your husband, you decided to meet him at the front, the warmth dwindling the closer you got.
Brian was talking about you, making comments about how you weren’t what he was expecting. That when Tim said he had settled down, he’d thought you’d be more “Y’know.” You hated that you knew what he meant. Your man had a type, flings from bars and bottle girls he’d pulled into motels for the night. Bombshells, Brian called them, and apparently, you were not up to par.
Your heart sank, tears pricked at your eyes, and you had turned around. Tim barely defended you, brushing the questions off with an unbothered “She’s good to me, that’s all I need.” When he eventually came inside, you were already tucked under the covers. Sniffling silently, he didn’t say a word. Gone by the time you awoke, he never brought it up.
The memory haunted you. Swallowing the hurt down for weeks until you forced yourself to move on. Tim started staying out later. Choosing to stop by the pub, his group of coworkers invited him to drink. Let loose, and you doubted any of them cared enough to remember that you were waiting on him. They talked about you, too, probably made quips at your expense, throwing jabs at your appearance.
You wouldn’t be shocked if he joined them. A while ago, when you’d brought him lunch, and the minute you walked in, they went dead quiet. Like they all knew something you didn’t. An inside joke you weren’t allowed to be a part of. The worst of them being Jeremy Sanders. A couple of years older than Tim, he was rowdy and never once thought before he spoke.
He stuck out more than the rest; it wasn’t even just his mannerisms. Dingy “Houston Astros” baseball hat worn askew on his head, with a beat-up flip phone in his hand, and the stench of stale sweat wafting from his clearly unwashed clothes- Sanders dressed the part of a sleaze to a T.
The man even whistled at you one time, yelling, “Shit, I mean- if you don’t want her, I’ll take her- I’m easy, I promise.” And Tim had barked at him to shut his trap. They still got drinks together, though.
Then came the lingering leers.
You didn’t go out often, yet when you did, you swore his eyes would stray from yours. Casting looks at the women that passed you by, and you realize that deep down, he’d never actually commit to it. But that hadn’t prevented your nails from digging into your palm anyway. Everything came to a peak when he returned from a particularly exhausting shift. And you weren’t faring any better.
Earlier that day, you had gone to a local bakery, a hole-in-the-wall type of business. Hazy lighting overhead, with earth-toned decorations lining the walls, made it cute. Cozy in a way that made you smile, waiting in line, when a laugh caught your attention. A couple. Her ring sparkling in the sun, glimmering as her lover whispered into her ear.
Linking their fingers together, she giggled. Hushed and love-sick, the corner table was filled with desserts. You always had a sweet tooth, the fridge never had room for them, though, Tim said they weren’t ‘practical’. As if joy had to be. He told you they wouldn’t fill you up, wouldn’t provide the right nutrition. Muttering that you didn’t need the extra carbs, changing the subject while you yanked at your shirt, sucking in just a little.
There was no point, and if Brian was there, you’d be even more stuck. His eyes would pan down your body, judgment stale in the air; you disliked it most when he visited. An outsider in your own home, your efforts to appease them would isolate you. Tim would give you a tight half-smile, his friend boring holes into you. It was a lose-lose situation.
The pair leaned into each other, and a disgusting envy crawled up your throat. Blistering and ugly, you watched as they kissed, softly, real.
It splintered terribly hollow in your chest.
So when a monotone remark left his lips that night, the dam broke. Spilling every tiny thing that had collected over the years, it was killing you. The weight was too heavy to carry any longer. You don’t know exactly when it happened, but at some point- your house had stopped being a home.
ᯓ★
➽──────────────❥
Throwing his coat onto the sofa, Tim ran a hand down his face. “Where the fuck are you getting this from-“ Already sick of your nagging, he sighed. Boots kicked off only a minute ago; he couldn’t even remember what he’d said to set you off. His tone lit your nerves, you scoffed. “You’re never home- and you don’t talk to me.” What the hell was your problem? He’d been gone all day; the last thing he needed was you bitching at him about shit that didn’t matter. “I’m talking to you right now, ain’t I?”
You were staring at a stranger, his eyes void of any fondness or understanding.
“You know what I mean-“
“Do I? ‘Cause all I’m hearing is that you’re in yer’ fucking head again.”
Said sternly, his patience waning by the second. “All I ask- is for some peace and fucking quiet. How hard is that for you to understand?“ It hurt. Sure, you came on stronger than you had intended to; you just wanted comfort. For him to reassure you, hold you for longer than ten seconds. Remind you he still loved you. Instead, he scowled, standing in front of you with irritation staining his features.
“I know that- I just- it feels like you can barely tolerate me sometimes-“ letting out a humourless laugh, you throw your arm up. “We never do anything. We don’t go on dates, we don’t kiss for more than a second at a time-“ You paced back and forth, desperate to get through to him. Find the man who would ruffle your hair when you were sad, the one who turned on your favourite song in the car.
“When was the last time we even fucked, Tim-“ And he groaned, “Is that what this is about? Because you’re needy? Give me a break.” It was like he wasn’t listening to you, picking and choosing what to respond to. “You know what? Yeah. It is. You don’t look at me- and you act as if it’s such a chore to even hug me when you get home-“ cutting you off, he sneered.
“Jesus fuck- because it is. I’m tired as shit, alright? I can’t just drop everything ‘cause you feel lonely-“ pinching the bridge of his nose, he exhaled harshly. “Fuckin’ suffocating me every goddamn second- like Christ have some self respect.” Your throat felt tight. Frustrated and overwhelmed, you snapped. “So I’m a chore now? Because you fucking hate me, right?” Tugging at his hair, his voice raised. Booming through the walls.
“I didn’t fucking say that-“
“You didn’t have to.”
“Oh, here we fuckin’ go-“
He slammed his keys onto the coffee table, jaw tensed. “You always do this- head shoved up your ass. Whining about shit that ain’t real, I work day and night- making sure you’re fed. Would it kill you to give me some space?” The marriage you had crafted so tenderly, built from the ground up, was falling apart before you.
Tears welling up, is that what he thought of all this? Of you? Just a leeching parasite, someone he had to take care of, not because he wanted to. But because he was forced to. Your love was a trap he’d been shackled with, something to withstand, instead of basking in. “All I want is for you to listen. It doesn’t even feel like I’m yours anymore-“ Interupting you with a disbelieving snort, “And now you’re crying, great. So I’m the bad guy, right? Do you hear yourself? Making shit up to yell about- you don’t get tired of it?”
When had he gotten so mean?
“Making shit up? Did I make it up when Brian said I wasn’t enough for you? When you stare at the girls walking past-“ Grief bubbling to the surface, your insecurities finally breached. The salt wet your cheeks, dripping down and soaking your collar.
There had been a time when the sight would’ve had Tim cradling you close. And that broke your heart something awful. “When your friends laugh at me- and don’t say they don’t because I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it, Tim, hurrying me out when I visit you, like you’re ashamed of me. Do you think I’m stupid? Honestly, do you think I’m genuinely such a fucking idiot that I don’t notice?” Your tangent was gaining speed, angry and betrayed as you sobbed.
The look on his face told you everything you needed to know. Confirming your worst fears, while he stood across from you, stunned, his expression unreadable.
“Why are we doing this, huh? You obviously stopped giving a shit- I mean, do you even love me anymore?” Hiding your sorrow behind your palms, you wiped roughly at the tears, and he crossed the room in strides. Pulling you to his chest, he sighed. “Don’t say that, I didn’t- fuck. Of course I love you, I just… I fucked up, alright?” Mumbling into your hairline, his arm wrapped around your back.
“They don’t know what the hell they’re talking about. I just gotta’ work with them, and I rush you out ‘cause you don’t need to hear that bullshit. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” The promise had you clinging to him; it felt good. Being held made it easy to forget your hurt, made it easy to trust his words.
The next couple of weeks were a dream. He would come home earlier, taking you out to the diner you’d met at, his jacket hanging off your shoulders while you walked to the car. Kissed you and bed you, the sex was good. Not mind-blowing, and perhaps you wouldn’t finish every time, it was just nice.
Having him over you, having him close, whispering until you fell asleep. You felt slightly guilty about lying, faking your moans near the end. He was giving you what you wanted, wasn’t he? And Tim didn’t talk you through it or anything like that, you simply enjoyed seeing him bare. As close to vulnerability as you could get. It wasn’t grand, but it was enough. You were happy, and for a moment, you believed him.
However, bliss never stuck around for long, now did it?
Slowly but surely, things had fallen back into routine. Tim once again drifts, returning later and later. Not bothering to ask you how your day was, your conversations growing bleak. Stale, after the feigned honeymoon phase had faded. And you realized you were stuck.
Even if you had cried again, brought up his lack of effort, what would come of it? The same two, three weeks of recycled lines and dates? It’s not like you could leave either; he paid for everything and took care of the finances. You had your savings, sure, they wouldn’t get you far, though. Up-rooting out of nowhere, abandoning your friends and family- where would you even go?
The people were close-knit, and unless you moved towns completely, you’d run into him constantly. Adding onto that, you still loved him. Despite it all, the arguments, the loneliness, you still searched for him in every room you entered. The worn-down ache of what could have been crippling you. Living more in your daydreams than in the present, and chasing false shadows in the dark.
You think it must be a fate worse than death to be in love with a man who didn’t exist.
Sitting on the edge of the mattress, you let yourself descend. Back hitting the plush duvet, you glanced over. He was packing for a work trip; his job had assigned him a position across the state. His hands were picking up tools and organizing the clutter while you stared into the fireplace. The hearth had been built into your bedroom, a brick chimney stretching to the ceiling, directly in front of the frame.
You had always pictured setting up a seating area next to it, a rug and pillows to cozy up to. He never indulged you. Scolded you half-heartedly, telling you that it was childish to sit on the floor.
The flames crackled, and he spoke, “I won’t be gone longer than a week.” Not looking up and zipping his carrier closed, you hummed. “Okay.” With that, he slung the pack over his shoulder. Nodding at you, he marched out the double door. His footsteps thudding faintly down the stairs. For a cabin structured from earth and trees as old as time itself, you would’ve expected it to feel warmer.
Tim had stopped kissing you goodbye years ago.
ᯓ★
➽──────────────❥
The days flew by swiftly.
Busying yourself with hobbies, you waited as you always did. Deciding that if this were your life, you were going to make the best of it. His absence bothered you a little, not that it was something you weren’t used to. Tidying up around the home, reading when you wanted to relax, it was pleasant. You didn’t often have the house for this long; his getaways normally only lasted about a couple of days at most.
You wanted to treat yourself, you’d been stressed. Pessimistic, due to your struggles involving your more or less devoted husband. And what better way to unwind than a night on the town? Getting dressed, you slipped on your favourite pair of shoes. You saved the pair for special occasions, having bought them with a fancy dinner in mind. They had been collecting dust in the back of your closet, so putting them on now felt a tad exciting.
Straightening your outfit in the mirror, you did a spin. This was fun. You thought you looked pretty, the hues accenting your skin, hair done up in a way that framed your face. A part of you wished Tim were here to see it- shaking your head, you quickly suppressed the thought. Today was about you. Smacking your lips together to even out the pigment, you headed to the door. Locking it behind you with a newfound determination.
The booths lit up the streets in sparks of colours. Lining the sidewalks as you went, the crowd was bustling and lively. Weaving through the groups, a sparkle from one of the shop tables caught your eye. A necklace. Adorned with sapphires and jewels, it was the most stunning thing you’d ever seen. Your jewellery collection was… lacklustre, for lack of a better term.
The gifts and shopping were done on his dime, and it wasn’t that you were impoverished, far from it, actually. He just never saw the use in having multiple options to choose from. Saying you were fine how you were, and that there was no need for the extra extravagance. You weren’t materialistic by any means; it was just you’d always had an appreciation for the finer things.
The brooch would’ve been a perfect anniversary present. In another life, your lover would have shown up at the stroke of midnight, bouquet in hand, with a decorated box at his side. Sliding the bijouterie around your neck, sweeping your hair aside to clasp it shut. Walking to the display, you stared at the gems, hung up on a velvet bust. Oh, how you had never wanted anything more. You bit your lip, cautiously lifting the price tag, and the number had your jaw dropping. Nearly three grand.
Pouting, you huffed. Tracing the delicate metal with your thumb, Tim would kill you if you bought it. You couldn’t, but god if you wouldn’t dream of it. Browsing the rest of the selection, making pretend outfits in your head with each bracelet and ring you admired, you giggled. Looking never hurt anybody, and you were having a good time.
“The necklace to your liking, miss?”
Gaze darting up, you met eyes with the seller. An older fellow with thick circular-rimmed glasses perched on his nose bridge. “Oh, it’s beautiful, but I was just looking.” Glancing back at the jewellery in question, it glimmered radiantly in the soft glow. “Well, if you change your mind, I could put it on hold for you?” The question made you pause, put on hold?
Perhaps you could save up, pick up a side gig somewhere. Help out your neighbours here and there; it’d take a while, but surely you could make it. You already had some checks set to the side for miscellaneous expenses, and it realistically wouldn’t take too long. Debating for a beat, you perked up, “I- okay, yes. Could you put it on hold?” And he nodded, a welcoming grin pulling at his mouth. “Sure thing, she’s a one of a kind piece, I’ll have you know. It’ll look real nice on someone like you.”
You watched him take it off the stand, placing it in a silk-lined box, then shutting the latch. Scribbling “Reserved” on a sticky note, before turning to you. “I’ll be seeing you around, then?” Laughing, you agreed, “I’ll be back, just need to save up a little.” The small talk was light, and he waved you off warmly. Continuing on your adventure, the interaction had boosted your mood. Your heels clicking against the gravel, when you stopped, tilting your head in confusion. Tim’s friends.
His companions gathered around another booth a few feet from you. You could’ve sworn he told you that they had all been shipped off to the same place. They were assigned by section, never sent one by one, so what were they doing in town? It had been five days since he’d left, which wasn’t out of the norm; he had finished jobs early before- but Tim hadn’t called you once. If you weren’t there when he arrived, you knew he’d try contacting you.
The tallest of the bunch did a double-take, and recognition flickered across his face. Calling out to you, he shouted. “Where’s Tim?” The men surrounding him snickered. You hated talking to them, yet your worry overshadowed your need for comfort. Where was Tim? Now you were even more lost; they could’ve been mocking you, you supposed. It was just such a strange jab, and with the way his attention stayed on you, he seemed like he was genuinely curious. Making your way to the group, you stood in front of his coworkers. “I’m sorry- did you guys just get back?” He raised his eyebrow, and you couldn’t blame him.
They weren’t even in their work clothes, and they smelled of booze and greasy takeout. It didn’t make sense; they had to have just returned.
“Just get back? The hell are you on about? We got back Tuesday.” The rest were focused on you, atmosphere heavy with judgment. Tim had left on a Sunday; the drive alone would have taken him a full twenty-four hours. If they were back now, that would have to have meant—
“The job got cancelled, drove all the fuckin’ way out there- just for boss to tell us it was ’too dangerous’. Some bullshit if you ask me-“
Another one of them chimed in, “Shit, the storms messing with my paycheck now? I mean, come on-“
The chatter faded into the background, replaced by the blood roaring in your ears. Excusing yourself with a clumsy apology, you rushed home. The memory of them standing there replaying, wait. This wasn’t adding up; they always hung out as a unit, but after doing a mental head count- you realized at least three of them were missing.
Stumbling through the front door, you dropped onto the couch, trying to rationalize the situation. Tim, Brian, and Sanders, all out of the picture. Nausea started to fill your gut, heavy as a brick in your stomach. Where was he? Tim may have neglected you, but this was something else entirely. To leave suddenly on a trip and not tell you? That had to be out of the question. Was he hiding something from you? He wouldn’t lie to you, would he? Running off with a mistress and leaving you in the dust- that didn’t feel right either. If he had, he would’ve definitely told his friends.
They were irritating bastards, that’s what made them easy to read. They would’ve shoved it in your face, laughed at your misery, and they didn’t. Appearing almost as confused as you were. You felt sick. Rising from your spot, you paced. Grabbing your phone and dialing the only person you could think of. Brian. He would have to know where Tim was, right?
It rings once, twice, three times— nothing. Voice mail echoing from your speaker, and you called him again. Every time it would ring for the full bit, then cut after the recorded message. The job had been cancelled from the start, so where the fuck was he? Panic trickled in, making your hands shake.
You racked your brain for anything that hinted at his whereabouts. They said they’d returned due to unsafe working conditions; had something happened to him? Images of his car flipped on the highway flashed through your mind. What if he was— no. No, no-nononono- this wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be, not right now, not to you. It wasn’t real; this was all just a terrible nightmare, and you’d wake up any second.
Bile at the back of your throat, breath coming in short puffs, and your vision blurred. You slid down the wall, collapsing, and you hiccuped. You were terrified. For him, for yourself, and what would become of you now. Problems or not, he was yours, loving him more than you thought you could love anything. You’d take it all back if you could, every complaint, every argument.
Keep your mouth shut forever if you had to, as long as he came home. Never utter a single word if it meant that he would return to your arms, safe and with a beating heart.
You blacked out on the hardwood that night. The storm battering against your windows, glass vibrating from the force. And when your eyes opened, his boots were still missing from the entryway.
ᯓ★
➽──────────────❥
It had been exactly one week, two days, and fifteen hours since Timothy Wright had gone missing.
You were falling apart at the seams. Switching between mourning him, then talking yourself into believing he was still out there. Just lost, that’s all. Filing the police report the morning you woke up, the officers told you, “Not to worry.” He was a grown man carrying all his paperwork on him- and how could you explain that this wasn’t like that? That it wasn’t like him to get up and leave- yet they stared at you anyway. Pity in their gaze, you knew what you looked like.
A desperate wife, far too concerned for her obviously non-commital husband. They accepted the report nonetheless and turned you away, acting as if they knew him. Were you naive? Had he really abandoned you? Simply growing bored, deciding it was better this way, and finding some girl to disappear with. You barely ate, more restless and tormented with each hour that passed.
Your closest friends had tried their best to help, but they couldn’t truly understand, now could they? Either telling you that acceptance was the first step, or to try and calm yourself while law enforcement searched. You knew they weren’t looking. Refusing to waste their efforts on a person who clearly did not want to be found. What were you supposed to do? And perhaps, Tim had planned this from the start, counting down the days until his work trip to make his escape. It’s just- was it so wrong to expect better of him?
If he was going to leave you, you would’ve thought he’d at least have the decency to get a divorce. Not fake his death and never talk to you again.
Rolling onto your stomach, you buried your face into the (his) pillow. Cuddling the fabric, lying on his side of the bed, gave you a sense of comfort. You had put on his old flannel, the one he’d forgotten to pack. Sniffling, you curled into a ball. This was awful. What was worse? Staying in a constant cycle of mystery, not knowing if he was even alive- or having his finality be confirmed?
Having to live without him for the rest of your years. Strands sticking out at odd angles, your hair was a mess. Was this why he left? Because you didn’t take care of yourself? You had caught a glimpse of your reflection earlier, when you were digging through his closet, and the sight made you grimace. Rubbing your eyes, you exhaled miserably, ready to turn in for the night.
It felt like you’d been awake for too long, even though you’d just rotted in your room all day. Lids drooping, a hazy fog fell over you; maybe you could pretend he was on the way home. Only ten minutes away, and he’d be walking through the door the moment you lost consciousness. What a nice thought. Slumber winning the fight as you sagged against the mattress—
Click.
Your eyes shot open, what? The sound of the front door unlocking immediately sent alarm bells off in your head. No one had the key. No one, except you and-
Tim.
Throwing the blankets off of you, you jumped out of bed. Stumbling over your feet, you ran out of your shared quarters and raced down the stairs. Adrenaline searing from head to toe, your heart thumped rapidly while you rounded the bottom step. It had to be him. It had to be. You rushed through the halls, finally arriving at the foyer, and you couldn’t believe it.
There he was, shuffling off his work boots, completely fine. Standing with his back turned to you, without a scratch on him from what you could tell. Relief flooded you. Bounding up to him, you threw your arms around his middle, nuzzling your face into his jacket. And in your excitement, you had failed to realize that he was at least half a foot taller than when you’d last seen him.
Letting out a choked laugh, you could cry. “I was so worried- I thought- I thought something happened to you. Where have you been?“ His hand wrapped around your forearm, tugging you around and to his front. Palm soothing up and down your spine, and you grasped at his shirt. Cheek pressed against the cotton, he chuckled.
“Musta’ scared you somethin’ terrible, buttercup.” Opening your mouth to respond, you paused.
His voice. Tim’s cadence had always been on the deeper side, but the base of his words had you stunned. Gravelly, with the baritone rumbling in his chest. Also- buttercup? Even at the beginning of your relationship, when you couldn’t get enough of each other, he never called you anything like that. He wasn’t fond of nicknames, preferring what was on your birth certificate instead. Pulling back, you looked up, gasping. Scars.
He was littered with them, smaller ones slashed across his face, some poking out of his collar. And now that you could analyze his form, when had he gotten this jacket? It was clearly lived in, the tan leather fraying at the edges, scuffed up from years of use. Brows furrowed in confusion, you mumbled, “What… happened out there?” You didn’t know what you were expecting. However, it was most definitely not the snicker that left his lips. Your husband wasn’t constantly stone-faced, of course- yet he wasn’t exactly easy-going either.
Down to the way he carried himself, his body language was entirely different. Almost teasing, his thumb traced idle circles at your hip.
“It was awful. Big crash on the highway- swear I had to fight my way back to you, babydoll.”
The sugary pet names flowed off his tongue with practice. His answer should have made sense, but he seemed so unbothered by everything. Tim had been missing for almost two weeks, and currently, he was brushing it off as if it were simply a bad weekend. Before you could question him further, he sighed, kissing the crown of your head. “I’m starvin’, why don’t we eat out tonight? ‘M sure yer’ exhausted, my poor girl, hm?”
Accent heavier than you’d ever heard, maybe the crash rewired him or something. You’d seen articles about it, when people would wake up from comas speaking different dialects. Still, it was nearly uncanny how he handled you. Uncharacteristically charming as he took your hand in his, making his way to the kitchen with you in tow. Closing in on the island, he scooped you up like you weighed nothing. Not a single grunt when he sat you on the counter. Had he always been this strong?
The skin on his palms felt calloused against your bare skin, and he squeezed the plush of your thighs. Crowding you at the table's ledge, he cocked his head to the side. “What’s on your mind, sug’?” Hushed, his tone gentle. The way he said it had your face hot. It wasn’t even just how he spoke to you; it was his gaze. Warm and endeared, he looked at you like you were the only woman alive. His features were sharper, too, as if he really had fought his way back to you. Slaying monsters to reach your doorstep.
The room suddenly seemed smaller. You stuttered, “I don’t know, I was worried about you. Are you- um, okay? Did you go to a hospital?” Timid, fiddling with the hem of his zipper, he cooed. “Oh, ain’t you just the sweetest thing? I’m right as rain, promise.” The affection was layered on thick, his attention overwhelming you. Parting from you, he patted his jeans, humming. “I’m all over the place today- guess I’m more shaken up than I thought. Would you be a doll and lend me yer’ phone? Think I lost mine.” Nodding, you slipped the device out of the flannel's breast pocket, handing it over to him.
Going to swipe the screen, he stopped, clicking his tongue. “Could ya’ unlock it?” He appeared almost bashful, asking you. You thought he had memorized your password ages ago. Though that was prior to the crash.
Typing out the code, you passed it to him once more. Watching him scroll through local restaurants- he probably wanted to order from that diner again. “I’ll just get the usual; we haven’t had it in a while.” Which was true; while it was a place you’d frequented often, you hadn’t been on one of those drives in months. Tim raises a brow at you,
“From where, hun?”
“The diner, you know- with the sausage you like.”
It wasn’t uncommon for people to need time to get back into the swing of things. He most likely had to go into survival mode when he was out there. The thought of him shivering made your heart heavy. It wasn’t your favourite, but eating a meal he loved with him after something that traumatic was the least you could do. Blinking at you, he huffed. “You sure that’s what you want? I know you don’t like heavy dishes this late.” That had you leaning back.
You’d mentioned it briefly once, but he just never brought it up. It was such a tiny detail to worry over, so why did he care? Especially now of all times. “I don’t mind, it’s your favourite. And I think you deserve it.” You quipped, smiling softly. Yet, he seemed more displeased than ever. Waving his hand in the air, he focused back on the phone.
“The hell I do- how about we try that little Italian place? The one close by, somethin’ real cozy.” He looked at you expectantly, and you swallowed. This was… new. “Um, sure. Do you think you’ll like it though?” With a side eye that could kill, he shut down your doubt, “It’s dinner with you, sugar. What’s not to like?” Stated like a fact, he leans in, settled amidst your spread legs. “The cars totaled, mm. I know this is a lot to ask, but if Brian drives us, would ya’ mind if he stayed for the meal? He’d whine about being a cab if he didn’t.”
The consideration was sweet. Tim never really asked if Brian could come over; it was more something you’d have to find out. The annoyed glare you got when you’d enter the occupied room was an alert on its own. And you could tolerate Brian’s judgment if it meant Tim would keep acting like this. “Okay, I mean- as long as he wants to.” Honestly, you’d be surprised if he agreed to the plan, though your lover looked certain nonetheless.
He grunted in acknowledgement and swiped to his friend's contact. Clicking the ID, he laughs, “Saved by his last name? That’s cold, baby.”
You had no idea what that was supposed to mean. He knew well that Brian wasn’t fond of you. Perhaps the accident had caused them both to rethink their ways, and that was a nice notion. Sending the short message, he placed the phone down. Noses brushing together, and the atmosphere turned soft. “Missed you, y’know that? Thought I was gonna’ die out there without my pretty wife.” Flirty, and you held your breath.
The tips of your ears flushed, you didn’t know how long this would last, but you’d savour it anyway. Sighing, you toyed with his collar. “What’s gotten into you? You’re never this- I don’t know, sappy?” His expression made you giggle.
Offended, it was boyish in a way you weren’t used to. “What? I can’t be sweet on my lady?” Butterflies filled your stomach. His lady, since when had he become such a smooth talker? Ducking down just a tad, you hid your face in the hollow of his shoulder. The man who’d seen you at your worst- even causing it at times- suddenly felt like a crush.
It was the strangest thing.
You supposed it made sense; he had just returned from a life-altering incident. Maybe he was simply grateful to be home, the near-death experience making him realize how much you meant to him. Still, that didn’t explain the mass he’d accumulated in the span of just two weeks.
Tim worked in lumber, and he was never weak per say. However, his shoulders had broadened a remarkable amount; even through the jacket, you could see the outlines of his arms.
The curve of his bicep, with roped muscle straining against the leather. Black cotton pulled taut over his chest every time he moved. Could someone really build up that much from adrenaline and forced survival alone? And how did he recover so fast? The scars that littered his frame were long healed over, some layered at certain conjunctures. As if they’d closed, just for the skin to be lacerated once again.
Confusion swarmed you, yet another feeling overpowered that while you cuddled deeper into his hold. Attraction.
Did it make you a bad person for thinking that he looked... good, like this? Rugged and charming, with lazy grins to last you for miles. He reminded you of the outlaws from the romance books you’d read. Cunning, swauve, where they didn’t even try, and he flirted like he hadn’t already won you. A dangerous edge to his words, even the ones laced with sugar.
It contrasted his actions, handling you like you’d shatter. Your flesh was a mirrored slate, one that he refused to mar with his touch. For every cruel print he’d leave would only reflect back onto him.
You hummed, basking in it, “I missed you too. I cried every day; it was terrible-” Burrowing into his collar, you continued. “... I like it when you’re like this. When you hold me.” The confession left your lips hushed. Fragile, as it hung in the air. “C’mon now, yer’ actin’ like I don’t kiss up on you every damn day, sug’.” Muttering into your hair, he twirled the strands around his finger.
Your saddened puff makes him pause, “I know, it’s just... it’s stupid-” before you could withdraw from him further, he grabs your chin. Tilting you up to meet his gaze, “It ain’t stupid, and I can’t be good to ya’ if you don’t talk to me, now can I?” He coerced your vulnerability, running his thumb along your bottom lip.
Peering at him through your lashes, you sighed. “Sometimes it feels like you don’t like me as much- not that I’m unhappy, I just- I mean, you’re good to me. You are, and you’re busy- I get it, I just wish you were...” Tucking a stray hair behind your ear, he waited patiently for you to finish. “I don’t know, I just- wish you were here more. I- I like talking to you, but you’re always tired when you get home. It’s not your fault, I just get lonely sometimes.” Trailing off, your thoughts failed to stitch together under his watchful eye.
His face was unreadable, then, for a split second, something sparked. Anger akin to disgust.
It sent a shiver down your spine, and was gone as fast as it came. Expression shifting to guilt, he clicked his tongue, “So I’ve been bad to you, huh?” Pressing a soft kiss to your temple, he continued. “Ain’t no point in denying it now- but you listen and you listen good. I swear to you, I will spend as long as it goddamn takes makin’ it up to you, ya hear? And if I ever make you cry again, you better take my rifle and aim it right at my head, 'cause I’ve clearly lost my mind, gorgeous-”
He cupped your face, shaking you to exaggerate his point, and you giggled. Your joy pleased him. Leaning in, he littered your cheeks with quick pecks. “Neglectin’ my pretty wife- that don’t even sound like me. You sure it was me and not some other bastard with sideburns?” The kitchen lit up with your laughter, and you swatted at his arm. Hands reaching to cradle his jaw, you vowed to keep this memory with you forever.
A tender warmth bloomed beyond your ribs, and it felt as if this singular moment had rewritten all the hurt he’d ever dealt you.
Resting your forehead on his, your breath fanned across his skin. Intimate in a way you had longed for since you’d met him. Cheesy and cozy, you think your heart has grown wings. Soaring high above the clouds, carried by his promise and the sincerity behind it. Lips inching closer and closer, “Tim-”
HONK!
The abrasive noise cut through your carefully created atmosphere. Brian’s car horn barked loudly from the driveway, and your disappointment was palpable. Tim snickered, parting from you, he straightened his coat. “Speak of the devil, he times it to ruin me, I swear-” Rolling up his sleeves, he extended a hand, helping you off the counter.
Rushing up the stairs, you got dressed as fast as you could, throwing on a cute enough outfit. You met him in the foyer, his boots already on. Giving you a scan, he huffed. “You’re cruel, my girl. Lookin’ like that and expectin’ me t’want to leave.” Your cheeks felt hot. You weren’t wearing anything special in your opinion, yet with the way he stared at you- you’d think you were standing there in nothing but a garter. “Enough, he’s probably getting impatient.” The shy grumble had him chuckling. Opening the door, he gestured for you to walk out.
The night air was crisp, breeze gracing your skin in waves. The headlights blared against the pavement as you walked to the truck. You couldn’t help but feel a pit form in your stomach. Dread trickled in like a leaky tap; your evening had been picturesque up until this point. Knowing Brian, though, he’d inevitably say something that would tank your mood. Approaching the vehicle slowly, caution in your stride when his silhouette came into view. However, the minute he saw you, Brian let out a low whistle.
You barely recognized him at first. He was taller, and even the way he leaned against the car had changed. “Well, I’ll be damned if it ain’t the missus.” Greeting you with a mock salute, he sniggered. “Can see why Tim was late-” And your lover exhaled heavily next to you, “You’ll shut that maw of yer’s if you know what’s good for you.” Disgruntled as ever, he shook his head, shooting you a look.
Okay. That was definitely different.
Usually, when you had to interact with Brian for whatever reason, he was mildly annoyed at the least and fully irritated at the worst. Now, he seemed borderline elated. Cheery, while he caught up with Tim, it was almost uncanny. Inspecting him at a closer distance, he had also somehow accumulated a collection of scars. The most striking one slashed across his face, stretching from under his lip to over his brow. He catches your curious leer, cocking his head to the side with a knowing smirk.
“Somethin’ on your mind, pretty miss?” His acknowledgement and praise throw you off. Stuttering to come up with an excuse, he interrupted you. “Kidding. You’re so jumpy, darlin’. S’just me.” The jab was playful, his hands held up in feigned surrender. “Is he that terrible to ya’? Tim, y’bastard- the hell you doin’ all day that’s got ‘er this stiff?” Said with a shit eating grin plastered across his face, Tim elbowed him in the ribs. Groaning from the impact, he snorts,
“See that? He’s mean ta’ me too, say the word and I can get ya’ far away from here-”
“Shut the fuck up, Brian.”
Not amused in the slightest, he yanks open the backseat. Ushering you into the truck while ignoring his proclaimed best friend. Settling against the cushion, Tim clicked the safety belt into place over your lap. Their dynamic was different, too. They’d always been close, but never this... Jokey? And Brian sure as hell never actively spoke to you, let alone enough to banter. The most you’d get from the stoic man was a harsh glare, and that was on good days.
They rounded the car, Brian behind the wheel, with Tim slipping into the passenger side. The engine sputtered to life, and you were on the road.
At least ten minutes had passed before you broke the silence. “Was it- um, were you both in the crash?” Brian answered you first, tutting quietly, “The crash? Ah, yeah. Real nasty thing, scuffed us up good.” Pausing, he hummed. “Must’ve been scary for you, havin’ to wait on your mister. We would’a got back sooner if we could- but the storm ‘n all that.” You fidgeted with your sleeve, eyes darting up at the rearview mirror, and Brian was already staring back at you. He focused back on the road after a beat, and you blinked.
Jeremy Sanders. Both the boys were back, so that probably meant he was too, right? “Is Sanders okay? I mean, I’m just assuming - I think his wife filed a missing persons report, so.” Your comment made them exchange glances, the space abruptly tense.
Tim was the one who responded this time, “S’that right? Mm, don’t think we saw ‘im that day. Did we, Bri?” And his friend nodded lazily, agreeing with a grunt. “No, sir. Can’t recall speakin’ to a Sanders. You sure he ain’t come back with the rest, dolly?” Tapping his gloved fingers on the wheel, you had no idea why you felt so uneasy.
Their answers were plain. Yet, there was this odd, unspoken truth between them, something that clung to the men in smoke. “Really? Maybe I’m misremembering- it’s just I ran into your coworkers at the market, and he wasn’t there—” Tim cut you off sharply, the ice in his tone stunning you. “Did they say anything to you?”
Cold, with an underlying razor edge, and Brian chimed in. “S’okay, you can tell us. Them boys have no manners, wouldn’t know respect if it shot ‘em between the fuckin’ eyes.”
His teasing lilt had vanished. Goosebumps prickled your skin; it wasn’t like he raised his voice- if anything, he was far too calm. Monotone, as the eerie silence dragged on longer than comfortable.
All of a sudden, you weren’t in a car with your husband and an old companion, but locked in a cage with two predators. And you’d dropped the key.
Self-awareness appeared to be a practiced talent because, as your anxiety built, Brian snorted. “Christ, that drive back was brutal though- wasn't it, Tim?” He scoffed, “That’s one way to put it. Had me freezin’ my balls off out there.” And Brian snickered, gasping dramatically.
“You kiss your woman with that mouth? Oh, darlin’, how the hell do you put up with him? Lord knows I couldn’t.”
“Well, God didn’t mean for everybody to be smart, and that’s exactly why yer’ here-”
Their bickering picked back up, with the occasional inclusion of your name in the mix. Successfully switching subjects, yet your confusion lingered. They answered your questions directly; there was nothing about it that should’ve made you feel this way. So why? Before you could truly dwell on it, the truck tires screeched to a halt. You had arrived.
Unlatching the seat belt, Tim opened the door to your right, steadying you when you hopped out. Brian followed closely, and the three of you headed to the entrance.
It was a cozy eatery. Family-owned, with rustic lighting and exposed brick. The heat from the open kitchen wafted across the floors, immediately warming your numbed fingers. Breathing in, you felt looser, maybe you were being paranoid- and it was never too late to grow as a person.
“Hi! Welcome to The Greenery, table for three?”
The hostess greeted you enthusiastically, smiling when you confirmed. Leading you to a corner booth, she zipped around to the other tables the moment you sat down. She was pretty. Tim’s type, in tiny shorts and a perfect updo. Sight straying from the menu, you half expected him to be following the sway of her hips. Instead, his eyes were locked on you. Squeaking quietly, you ducked down into the pamphlet, the sound of their overlapped chuckles making your face hot.
“Find somethin’ you like, yet?”
Brushing his foot against your ankle, Tim took a gulp of the complimentary water. The atmosphere was romantic, with quiet jazz mingling in the chatter around you. You’d think Brian would stick out more, but oddly enough, he didn’t. Blending right into the scene, like you were just friends getting dinner.
Clearing your throat, you set down the pamphlet. “The risotto sounds good, um-” The dynamic between the three of you had changed, and even if the whole thing was unexpected, it’d only be right to at least try and include Brian. “W-what about you, Bri? Are you, uh, craving anything?” Cringing at the nickname, you didn’t know why you’d said that. Tim had used it earlier- you weren’t Tim, though.
Maybe you were moving too fast? And he’d sneer at you, mock you for overstepping. Yet when you go to correct yourself, his delighted snicker stops you. “And here I thought you didn’t like me, darlin’.” Resting his arms on the table, he leaned forward, high-spirited. “I, for one, am cravin’ the biggest plate of fettuccine the world's ever seen. I’m watchin’ my figure though, you think it’d have me bloated or?-”
Words exaggerated, with his eyes crescented, dimples indented on his cheeks, clear as day. Like he was having so much fun simply talking to you.
And for the first time since you’d met Brian, you laughed.
The dread that had initially made home in your stomach was fading more and more as the night continued. It was as if his unfriendly nature had done a full one-eighty degree turn, suddenly keen on getting you to smile. It made you feel almost guilty for expecting the worst, “You know, it’s funny that you say that- I thought you hated me since like forever.” You confessed, folding the menu and pushing it aside. Brian, for some reason, appeared genuinely shocked.
His brows shot to the roof as he blinked, and Tim didn’t seem to have a clue either. Both of them were staring at you with confusion smacked across their faces- had you read all the previous encounters wrong? It’s just that his disdain for you was so blatantly obvious.
You understood that trauma could rewire a person, but he had to know what you were talking about, right? “Not that I’m holding it against you or anything- you just never really- I don’t know, spoke to me? And you’d look at me weird when I tried to say anything- I’m sorry. I- I didn’t mean to ruin the mood, I just—”
Brian reached over the table and took one of your fidgeting hands into his. The action was jarringly intimate, and he cut you off gently. “Hey, s’alright. You ain’t ruin nothin’, and I‘m sorry it felt like I didn’t like you. ‘Cause I promise ya’ I do, like you a whole lot, actually.”
Running his thumb along your knuckles, he soothed you. “Yer’ the best thing that happened to Tim. The bastard wouldn’t survive a day out here without you, and if he ever acts otherwise, I’ll smack him up the head.” Tim huffed, “If anyone’s the bastard, it’d be you-” rolling his eyes, he shifted closer. “But he ain’t wrong, you’re doin’ jus’ fine, baby. I’m lucky you put up with me for this long.” Their joint reassurance settled softly in your chest.
Now, you really feel bad for expecting the worst. “Okay.” Your shy grin seemed to be enough to ease their concerns, and Brian pulled back. The waitress approached just in time, taking your orders and dashing off into the bustle.
You spent the rest of the evening bantering back and forth. With Brian absolutely demolishing his dish, and Tim judging him for how fast he chewed. As if you’d been a trio all your lives, the conversation flowed easily, and it finally felt like you fit.
Not a burden or a nagging wife he’d have to tell to leave because his friends were over, but someone he wanted to show off. Someone he was proud of.
After you had finished, they even argued over who would take the bill. It was the most unserious thing you’d ever witnessed. Tim claimed that since you were his woman, he’d have to pay. Saying, “It was only right-” while Brian combated that he “Drove here and therefore technically hosted.” Shaking your head, you sighed. Boys.
The drive back was light, filled with laughter as your husband defended his honour. Brian had been appalled when you’d told him that Tim hadn’t gotten you flowers in over a year, and Tim gasped something terrible. He said that he’d lost his mind and had been possessed by “The spirit of a deadbeat” five months into the marriage. Told you to forget everything up until this point, and swore on his grave he’d do better. His companion tutted disapprovingly from the driver's seat, giving you a look through the rearview.
You wished with all your might that the warmth from tonight would last for the rest of your days.
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Back in your pyjamas, you slipped on the thickest socks you could find. While the storm may have eased up, winter had arrived in full swing. Snowflakes blanketed the soil outside, and you crossed your legs to watch. Perched at the window seat, the fireplace roared behind you, your bedroom glowing a hazy amber. This was not how you had pictured ending your week, and you could not be more grateful for it. Mug cozy in your hands, you sipped, and the sugar immediately coated your tongue.
It was sweeter than usual, too sweet for it to be good for you, according to Tim, anyway. But it had been a good day, and you thought you deserved to indulge, just a little bit.
Walking out of the ensuite bathroom, his hair was still damp, with the towel slung around his neck. Tim sat down next to you, leisurely leaning on the sill, and he cocked his head to the side. “Watcha’ drinkin’?” His change in demeanour was making you perverted. Water droplets dripped down the lines of his throat, with the short sleeves struggling to contain his newly attained muscle- Tim looked edible.
Hands in his pockets, and the sweats were dragged low on his hips. The plain cotton tee had rolled up a tad, giving you the perfect view of his happy trail. Snapping you out of your thoughts, he smirked, like he knew. “S’that tea or?” How embarrassing. You stuttered, hiding your face behind the rim when you swallowed a mouthful. “I- yeah, it’s tea. I know you say I don’t really need the sugar, I was just craving it.” He raised a brow at you, “What’s that supposed to mean? I know you gotta’ sweet tooth, hun. Ain’t no shame in it.”
Letting out a hushed laugh, you placed the cup down. “You’re so nice now, it’s weird.” That had him grunting, raising his arm, he brushed the hair out of your face. “Was I not nice before?” His gaze mapped out your features, traveling from the slope of your nose to the curve of your lips.
“No, you were- it just feels like you’re... softer now. I guess.” Frowning, he mutters, perplexed. “Barely done anything for ya’ sweetheart. Was I that bad t’you?” It was as if you were complaining to your new boyfriend about an ex who had done you dirty.
You giggled, “It’s not like that, you just worried about my health a lot. Don’t need the extra pounds and all that.” And he scoffs, visibly irritated. Mad at the Tim before the accident, it seemed. “That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard. Surprised you haven’t kicked me to the curb yet. Someone’s been lacing my coffee at work, because I think I was on somethin’ when I said that to you, sug’-”
Tugging you closer, he lifts your leg, swinging it over his thighs. You straddled his lap, hands finding purchase on his chest. Humming, you smiled. He appeared so utterly distraught at his prior actions; it was endearing.
“It’s fine, Tim. Really-”
“No, the hell ain’t. Should’ve socked me in the jaw the second I opened my mouth. Yer’ a stunner, my girl- prettiest thing I’d ever goddamned seen.”
The weight of his words shocked you, saying them like they were the only truth he’d ever known. Sighing, he nudged his hand under your shirt. Caressing your waist, “You believe me, don’t ya’? Fuckin’ gorgeous, you hear me?” His eyes searched yours in desperation; the need for you to understand was bare, aching. Everything he’d ever done, ever sacrificed, was for you.
Every blood-curdling moment, where he’d grit his teeth and refuse to yield. When his mind had fractured, and static took hold of his body. With the earth laid scorched beneath his feet, malice blinding his sight- he would scream your name. You were what kept him here, the tether between morgue and soul.
Somewhere far away, in a place between times, Tim stood amongst a vast sea of corpses. A man stained with valour and grief. Rifle heavy in his hand, his ribs torn open, the beating heart that sat half buried in soil mocks him. You are nowhere to be found, yet he calls your name anyway.
You never respond.
Breath fanning across your skin, he wrapped his arms around you. Tightening his hold when you go to question him, “Tim?” He exhales heavily into the crook of your shoulder, “I’m alright, just missed you, baby. That’s all.” His sudden switch in attitude worried you. Running your fingers through his hair, you pressed a kiss to his temple. “I missed you, too. I can’t imagine how scary it was when you crashed.”
Pulling back, he breathes through his nose, “Wasn’t that bad, knowin’ you were waitin’ on me. You’re all I need, y’know that? Nothin’ on earth could stop me from gettin’ home to you.” Whispered against your lips, he kisses you. Slow and deep, savouring it. Mouths slotting together as your saliva mixes, you cradled his face. Hooking his hands under your thighs, he lifted you, rising and stepping to the bed. Scrambling to steady yourself, you grabbed at his shoulders.
You gasped, he’d always been strong- but he’d never just hauled you up without a single grunt. “Tim, what-” he silenced you, pressing his lips to yours once more, before breaking off. His expression could only be described as longing. “Need you, honey. You’ll let me have you, won’t you? Been waitin’ too long- it’s killin’ me.” Waiting too long? You’d offered yourself plenty of times in the past, but he was simply never interested.
Missing for two weeks, sure- however, compared to the borderline celibacy of your marriage, that was nothing. Tossing you onto the sheets, you landed with a soft bounce. “What’s gotten into you?-” Even on your honeymoon, he’d never looked at you like this. Half-lidded, intoxicated, while he crawled between your legs.
Caging you under him, he chuckled darkly, pupils dilated and drowning the hue around them. “You have no idea how hard it was to pretend I didn’t wanna’ bend you over that goddamn table in front of everybody.” The last of his restraint had fizzled into nothing, and he dipped down, nipping at your throat.
The feeling of his teeth had you arching off the linen, “Ah-” and he groaned like he was starved. Leaving heated kisses along your collar, he slinked lower, pushing your shirt up as he went. Your breast spilt across your chest, lying bare and vulnerable. When you would fuck, it was usually under the covers, and while you’d be naked- it was more just focusing on the sensation rather than the visual. Tim complimented you, of course, but he was never the type to stare and take his time breaking you down.
Until this exact moment, that is. Apparently, he’d returned to you with an appetite. “Lift yer’ hips for me, sug’.” You already felt incredibly exposed, embarrassed by his attention. Yet, you couldn’t help but comply. Raising up an inch, his thumbs hooked under the waistband of your shorts. He rolls down the material with care, slipping it off your legs and throwing it to the side.
You squirmed under his gaze, the revealed skin becoming victim to his lips as he trails kisses from your inner thigh up to your ankle. “Oh, angel. Yer’ too good to be true.” Since you were only going to bed, you’d failed to put on underwear, and now you were suffering the consequences. Core presented bare, your folds were slick in arousal, glistening under the dim light. Tim whistled low at the sight, “So wet, my girl. You want it that bad?”
Whining, you hid your face behind your hand, turning from him. His sweet talking, combined with his touch, was overwhelming. Clicking his tongue, he grasped your wrist, tugging it down and pinning it at your side. “Uh uh, you look at me or I stop, you understand?” Stern and in control, his tone sent shivers down your spine.
Nodding weakly, you sniffled. His presence was authoritative, commanding you as if it were second nature. Resting your leg on his shoulder, he slid a finger along your slit, spreading you open. Circling your puffy clit, he snickered when a moan forced its way past your lips. And you shuddered harshly as he applied more pressure, drawing out your pathetically suppressed sounds.
The pleasure sparks all the way to your toes, vibrating through your body mercilessly. It felt so good, and he’d barely touched you; you normally didn’t even feel it this much when you had full-on sex with him. When had he learned you inside out? Bending down, he pecked your cheek, an act far too innocent for what was happening.
“S’this what you needed? A little lovin’ from your husband, right? You were so tense at dinner, had me worrying my heart out, baby.” Southern drawl coated his words thick with honey, mocking you.
It had only been a couple of minutes, and you were already dangerously close to the edge. Vision bleary, your sensitive cunt drooled onto the sheets, puddling under your ass. He kept skimming his fingers up and down your folds. Middle and index rolling your twitching nub, then slipping down to tease your entrance. Prodding in just the tips of his fingers, before pulling them back out, he was playing with you.
The constantly switching stimulation had you writhing beneath him, clawing at the duvet, and whimpering. “Poor thing, I’ve been neglecting you, hm? Ain’t I jus’ the worst?” His grin was anything but remorseful. Tears bubbled at your lash line, and you could barely keep your eyes open. You hiccuped, “I wanna’ ah- just-”
Your thighs were trembling, jolting as he smacked your pussy. “You wanna..? I’m lost here, babydoll. Can’t help you unless you use your words real proper like.”
Rocking your hips into his hand, you mewled. “Hah- Tim, wan’ it- ngh, deeper.” He hummed, scolding you. “Now, that’s not how we ask, is it? Give me a good wife to fuck and use yer’ manners.” Tim was being so mean, you couldn’t even think straight, and he wouldn’t stop toying with you.
Tapping your clit like a button, he dragged the pads of his finger over your weeping hole, but never dipping inside. The coil in your gut was painfully tight. He was such a bully. “Please! Please- please, wanna’ be good.” Your little begs were too cute, like an eager puppy.
Your ears were ringing, shoulders bowing sharply off the mattress when he finally fills you. “Oh- fuck, Tim-” Lewd shlick shlick shlick’s echoed through the room as he pumps in and out of your sloppy tunnel. Gummy walls spasming around the digits, and your eyes rolled back into your skull. Your thighs squeezed together, only to be obstructed by his hips, legs jerking sporadically. Your release splurted out in pulses, soaking both his hand and the linen.
What the actual fuck had just happened?
Tim had made you cum in five minutes flat. On his fingers alone, at that. It wasn’t that he was inexperienced; it’s just that his skill had somehow skyrocketed over the span of fourteen days. Your head was heavy, lolling limply against the sheets, but he wasn’t done. Matter of fact, he hadn’t even started.
Leaning back on his haunches, he withdrew from your dripping heat, and your arousal acted as thin ribbons. Stretching between you when he brought his hand to his lips.
His tongue swirled around the digits before pulling them out with a wet pop. “You’re jus’ too sweet, pretty thing. Ya’ think it’s the sugar?” Grabbing the hem of his shirt, he shucks it off in one tug. Back on you in a flash, his arms braced by your head, and he brought his weight down. A simmering grind, you could feel him through the fabric. You’d just cum, and you were already aching for more, but it wasn’t your fault. He was just too good at touching your needy body, splaying your cunt open with every rock of his hips.
The air was heavy, thick with sex and sweat. Lips molding to yours, he swallowed every whine you made. Hearth crackling amidst lust, your breath hitched, oversensitive.
You whined, raking your nails down his back, breaking the damp skin in jagged lines. The friction on your clit was dizzying. “Please-”
Your eyes shoot open as your phone buzzes off the nightstand.
It slips from the drawer and clatters loudly to the floor, making both of you freeze. Tim groans, completely content with ignoring it, when the lit-up screen catches your attention. Brian. Saved under “B. Thomas” and currently spamming your inbox. The device vibrated repetitively on the hardwood, distracting you. Why was he calling so late? It had to have been at least a quarter past midnight, and you were sure Brian should have been comfortably at home. On top of knowing the woods like the back of his hand due to work, he didn’t live far- he wouldn’t be contacting you unless it was an emergency.
Your husband, however, appeared to be set on blocking out the damn thing. Continuing to kiss you as if he’d die if he didn’t. “Tim-” Barely a grunt, “What if something happened-” Smooch, “He could be hurt-” Mwah. You were getting nowhere, shoving at his shoulders, and he finally gave you space to breathe. Blinking at you, confused. He wet his lips,
“You alright?’
“Brian’s been calling for five minutes straight- what if it’s an emergency?”
“Why’s another man's name comin’ out of your mouth in the bed I pay for?”
“He could literally be bleeding out right now-”
“Then let him.”
“Tim.”
Sighing with his whole chest, he gave you the most betrayed look he could muster before rolling off. Shuffling onto the edge of the mattress, he swung his feet onto the ground. Tim scowled heavily, staring at the phone he’d picked up with disdain. All he asks for is one night. One night, uninterrupted, with his woman. And of course, that’s when the bastard needs help.
May God punish Brian.
Glancing up to the ceiling, he took a deep breath. Shutting his lids and gathering the strength not to yell the moment he answered the call. After a beat, he swiped across the screen, bringing it to his ear with an irritated grumble.
“What.”
Pulling your shirt down, you shifted onto your stomach and tried your hardest to listen in. From what you could make out, the reason for his disturbance was something along the lines of a malfunction in his engine. Apparently, Brian had made it about twenty minutes before the truck went dark. Now, he was stranded on the road, with your cabin being the closest option in the on-and-off blizzard.
He hangs up after responding to whatever Brian said last with a disgruntled “Yer’ lucky she’s a fuckin’ saint- should leave you out there for the wolves.” Running a hand down his face, he turned to you. “He’s outside, sugar- he’s askin’ to stay for the night.” As horny as you were, Brian had been through enough, and you had a perfectly usable spare room just down the hall. “Okay, can you let him in? I can’t exactly greet any guests like this.” Propped up on your elbows, you laughed.
Tim looked so upset. Borderline pouting, he puffs, annoyed down to the bone. Not at you, but at his invasive friend who always showed up at the worst time possible. “Ain’t you say he was mean to you? We should leave ‘im out there to repent-” Throwing himself back over you in a half crawl, he groans loudly into your nape when you giggle, “Go open the door for him, he’s probably freezing out there.”
“Baby-”
“Go.”
Giving your shoulder one last kiss, he parted from you, trudging out of the room. Shirt still off, he adjusted himself through the joggers. Cock blocked by his very own companion. You stifle your snort, and Tim exhales noisily from the corridor. The steps creaked under his weight, bare feet padding along the carpet as you redressed yourself upstairs.
The door swings open with a harsh whoosh. Snow pelting down, and the glow of your home drifted out into the night. “You’re such a shit head, Bri. I jus’ got back, you couldn’t have stopped by tomorrow?” Tim snarked, arms crossed over his chest.
Shoving his hands into his pockets, Brian whistled, “Hostile. I interrupt you ‘n the missus or somethin’?” Your lover's eye was twitching. “Shut the hell up and get in, you’re lettin’ the heat out.” Ushering his friend inside with haste, he gave the tree line a quick scan before shutting the entrance.
You could already hear their bickering starting up from the top of the staircase, making your way to the pair, blood rushed to your cheeks when Brian grunts at the sight of you. Placing his duffel down, his gaze sweeps you from head to toe. “Well, shit- I miss the fun or?-” Getting cut off by Tim’s hand swatting at the back of his hood. “Eyes offa’ her- I’ll drag you out myself, don’t think I won’t.” Going at each other's throats right until they got separated.
Your mismatched trio ended up talking for a bit in front of your shared chambers- Brian telling you more about the whereabouts of his truck to be looked at in the morning, then he bid you goodnight with a playful salute, heading off down the hall.
Tim sprawled on the mattress, pushing the blankets down while he settled into bed. The day's exhaustion finally caught up to you. Gliding your foot over the edge of the hob, you yawned. “I’m glad you’re both safe- I think the storms picking up again.” Arms above your head as you stretched, the warmth of the fire licking across your skin. You peered at him over your shoulder from where you stood, and he grinned. “I’m glad, too. Now c’mere, ‘m startin’ to miss you.” Humming, you twist around to join him- ah, you forgot to grab a drink on the way up.
Mouth suddenly dry, you huffed, “Wait, I’m gonna’ get water- do you want a cup?” He blinks at you lazily, reminding you of a domesticated tiger. “Mm, I’m alright, hun.” Slinking further into the plush duvet, and you headed downstairs.
The trek should have been quick, yet on your way back, something catches your attention. Brian’s bag. In the rush of the conversation, he must have forgotten it by the welcome mat. He’ll probably come looking for it later anyway. Why not bring it up for him to save him the trouble? Glass in hand, you crouched down, reaching for the handle, before you freeze.
With the black zipper not fully shut, the muted colours stood out against the dark nylon. Inside the bulky luggage lay an object that didn’t quite blend in amongst the rest.
A baseball cap with dark red splattered on the brim.
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A/N: YESSS !! FIRST CHAPTER IS HEREEE !! Many things in store… many mysteries to solve… I wonder who’s hat that is 🧐
Tag List 🏷️ : @pinknaijia @vxncevis @iwillfuckyourfave @0peachybaby0 @agirlwhosprincess @gothickeiii @xsugarxglass @mellozhi @mikasasseptumring @starsbursted @whosat @thecatitbittingmeee
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-
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-
to satoru personal space does not exist ∘ ∘ ∘ (⸝⸝╸-╺⸝⸝)
it’s ironic, really.
for someone known as the strongest— untouchable, infinite space between him and everything else— satoru just cannot keep his hands off you.
at all.
you’re sitting on the couch? his arm is already around your shoulders. he’ll grab a handful of boob while he’s at it, not even in a sexual manner, he simply treats it like a fidget toy.
walking somewhere? fingers laced with yours like it’s a life-or-death requirement. he’s pulling you away from anyone walking too closely, which ends up with your entire arm in his grasp.
standing perfectly still? his hand finds its way into your pocket. does he have his own? sure. does he care? absolutely not.
trying to cook? he’s behind you, chin resting on your head, fully convinced he’s helping while absolutely not helping. occasionally, he’ll have his hand directly on yours.
“toru,” you say, attempting to stir something without elbowing him, “you are literally making this harder.”
“i’m helping,” he corrects, tightening his hold just a little. “just making sure you don’t accidentally burn yourself.”
it gets worse in public.
for a man who used to keep the entire world at a distance, he now treats you like a built-in accessory. hand on your waist, fingers brushing yours, casually leaning on you like you’re the only solid thing in existence.
at one point, you stop walking entirely.
he takes three more steps before the invisible leash snaps him back, looking back at you like a puppy waiting for his owner.
“hey— why’d you stop?”
you cross your arms. “can you go five minutes without touching me?”
he stares at you. actually stares.
like you’ve just asked him to breathe underwater.
“…why would i do that?”
“because normal people have boundaries.”
“you don’t like it?” he pouts, very seriously. “what’s so wrong with me showing affection?”
you have to stifle a laugh.
he takes advantage immediately— hands on your cheeks, squishing your face a little. “see? you like it just as much as i do.”
“you’re impossible.”
“and yet,” he leans in, forehead bumping yours, smug and soft all at once, “you’re always within arm’s reach.”
୨୧ megumi fushiguro, who can be a little rough in bed
you was being an absolute brat today.
your poor boyfriend, megumi, has been begging you for space, but you just wouldn’t listen. you was so horny, you couldn’t help it, your boyfriend was the sexiest guy alive.
that being said, you’ve been begging him for sex all day. he told to be patient, to let him get done with everything he needed to get done today, but you wouldn’t listen. he was trying to get some paperwork done at his desk before you came in his room, pleading to just sit in his lap because you “missed him” megumi let out a huge sigh, irritation growing slightly because he already told you to leave fifteen minutes ago. he begrudgingly agreed, scooting out his desk chair as you planted down on his lap.
it only took you five minutes for you to start grinding on him, trying to coax him into getting what you want. “that’s it, go.” he said sternly, shooing you out of his room before literally locking the door behind you. he could finally focus on his paperwork now, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t slightly hard from your grinding. great, now he has to focus extra hard to get this done.
you waited for him outside his room on the couch, the wet ache between your thighs only getting worse as the minutes blurred into several, and those minutes turned into two hours. your ears perked up at the sound of him unlocking his door and finally walking out of his room, looking tired and worn. you immediately got up, violating his personal space as you practically threw yourself on him, feeling him up in the process.
megumi looked down at you, a hint of irritation mixed with his usual blank face as he tried to pry away from your touches. “let go of me, i have lunch plans with itadori and kugisaki.” he said, tone flat to hide the effect you was truly having on him. your smile grew, begging for him to let you come with him, promising to not be annoying.
he doesn’t know why he believed that for even a second.
he’s trying to hold his composure, swatting your hand away from under the table as you palmed him next to you. you was having way too much fun with this, blabbing away with his friends as you felt him growing harder under your hand. he swatted your hand away harder, irritation blooming on his face as he skimmed the menu. “dude, you okay? you look pissed, and you keep jerking.” yuji asked, concern lacing his voice. you only sped up your hand under the table as megumi struggled to keep a grip. “he’s seething in anger over the menu.” nobara teased, bumping yuji’s arm as they giggled.
he glanced over at you, swatting your hand away again as he gave you a warning glare while they was busy laughing. “i’m fine.” he replied, tone short and clipped. they continued to laugh and tease him. you laughed right along with them, having the audacity to snuggle up against him afterwards.
he was about two seconds away from snapping. you couldn’t keep your hands off him as he drove the two of you home, whining about how horny you was, how bad you wanted him to fuck you, trying to make excuses for why you couldn’t stop touching him inappropriately at lunch. he wasn’t having any of that though, shutting you up and turning up the car’s radio to calm his nerves.
when the two of you got home, he was quiet, strangely calm as he walked past you and straight to the bathroom, starting the shower. you followed him, whining about needing him and wanting to spend time with him. “get out.” he muttered, moving you out of the bathroom before shutting the door.
finally, the space he’s needing all day. he let the warm water soothe his tense muscles, leaning his head back and letting the water course through his naturally spiky hair, leaving it flat on his head in the process. he purposely spent extra time in the shower, washing away the dirt, grime, and irritation of the day before turning off the water and grabbing his towel to wrap loosely around his waist.
just for all that irritation to come back, seeing you waiting for him in the bathroom, starting your bullshit up again, begging for him and even trying to tug his towel off.
and megumi fushiguro, the usual calm and composed man, snapped.
he was pissed, it was evident in the way he was fucking you within an inch of your life. he’s got a tight grip on your hips, pulling you into every brutal thrust, cock pistoning in and out of you rapidly. he was still warm and damp from his shower, hair wet and flat on his head and hanging in front of his eyes. he looked so hot like this, anger mixed with pleasure in his expression as he hunched over, broad shoulders almost shielding you from the outside world.
“such a fucking brat. don’t ever know when to quit.” he snarled, fucking into you harder as he replayed today’s earlier events in his head. “i told you to fucking—mphh—wait. but you don’t know what that means do you?” he taunted between grunts, head hanging low and in your face. the pleasure was suffocating, it was hot and sweaty, no room to squirm away from the aggressive fucking he was giving you.
he’s never been this rough with in bed before. you must’ve really pissed him off, his hold on you bruising as his hips clapped into yours violently. it felt too good, his cock slotting through your velvety walls as his tip slammed into your sweet spot. you moaned wildly underneath him, trying to squirm away from the almost painful pleasure. “gumi..! go softer, it’s too-“ you attempted to whine before his hand covered your mouth, silencing you.
“thought this is what you wanted? so shut up and take what i give you.” he grunted in your ear, pace picking up as he lost himself in your slick walls, your moans and whines against his palm spurring him on as he fucked all his anger out on you. he almost looked like a different person, wet hair slick down on his head, eyes dark and intense with a deranged look on his face had you clenching around his cock bullying your insides.
the way he was taking control, fucking you into your place, and being mean with it, had you whining under his hand. your thighs shook in pleasure as you grew wetter, slick walls pulling him deeper despite your protest of it being too much just seconds earlier, and the obscene sound of his cock sliding in and out of your soaked pussy filled the room as you gripped at the sheets desperately to ground yourself.
the pleasure coiled warm and steady in your core, arousal dripping onto the sheets and coating megumi’s dick in the process. you writhed with your eyes closed as he fucked into you faster, each thrust causing the bed to creak and the headboard to knock against the wall in a steady rhythm. “sound so much better like this…not nagging me.” he moaned, pleasure catching up to him as he felt his balls tightening with his impending orgasm.
your legs began to kick and jerk, being the only part of your body that could move properly due to megumi’s body weight pressing into you. drawn out whines left your mouth as your walls clenched ans spasmed around him. “yeah? gonna cum, baby? go ahead, soak me.” he demanded, thumb coming down to rub harsh circles on your clit.
that was your undoing, squealing under his palm as you came around his cock, throwing your head back as your orgasm soaked everything. “haah…fuck…now you know how to listen. when you’re getting what you want.” he said harshly, thrusts losing rhythm as he chased his own orgasm. he removed his hand from your mouth to kiss you deeply, hips jerking once more as he came hard and deep inside you.
he moved his hips slowly, riding out his high as the two of you gasped and breathed heavily. his cum seeping out between the two of you as he stayed buried inside your warm walls.
the two of you sat in a long silence, kissing softly in the dark. he was being loving and affectionate compared to how he just fucked you violently. you threaded your hand through his slick hair, admiring the way his face was starting to soften. “you look good like this…can we go again?
synopsis . Overstim with your husband but he keeps accidentally setting things on fire because of it. content . afab!reader, masturbation (m!receiving), established relationship, improper use of fire bending(?), overstim, wife!reader, switching dynamics, bondage, pet names, nipple play (m!receiving), somewhat dom!reader, missionary, manhandling, etc.
“S-Shit,” Zuko huffed, hips insistent with their bucking as he uncontrollably drives the frustrated head of his weepy cock up into your hand.
You sat at his side with your eyes innocently watching as he fell apart entirely under your touch, “Does that feel good?”
He couldn't take his eyes off the way your fingers looked wrapped around his length, “Hhngh-, fuck.. So good,” He huffs, admiring how perfectly you jerked him off and struggling greatly with the bit of rope neatly tied around his wrists—which are positioned behind his back. “D-Don’t stop. Please.”
You squeeze at his base and feel how his veins pulse ‘n twitch against your palm, the tip of his cock a flushed shade of tanned red.
Then your gaze flicked up and you caught the way he threw his head back, letting the long, loose strands of his silky hair flutter all elegantly with the motion. There was certainly nothing more endearing than watching the fire lord come undone before you like this.
A slopped mess of slick cum keeps your hand steady with its slippery motions up 'n down his dick, his balls aching and heavy with need to release yet another load into your palm. You grin before silently leaning forward, letting your lips press into his chest all lightly as you hear him struggle with whines and grunts.
“Ah, your hand is always-, shit… s-s’soft..” Zuko mumbled, his abs tensing at the feel of your touch. Without warning, he nearly whimpers at the sensation of your lips cupping his nipple. “Oh God-,” Your husband's breathing tangles up in his throat, “Wait-, fuck.. Y’know I’m sensitive there, wait—“
“Mmnh..” You hum delightedly against him and let your hands pace quicken against his cock, feeling the entirety of his body heat up for a moment before he begins to twitch all over the place, his wrists fighting against the restraints keeping them in place.
This whole thing had been his idea. He'd asked you time and time again to tie him up and do whatever you want to him, but just like all the times in the past where this has been tried—he never seems to last too long before-
The smell of fumes hit your nose.
You pop your lips off his swollen nipples and halt your sucking for a moment just to look up at his teary-eyed face, admiring the pout he’s got on. “Zuko…” You purr with a slightly raised brow.
He angles his head back down to meet eyes with you, batting those dark pretty lashes at you as if he'd done nothing wrong, “Yes, love?”
“Are you burning through those ropes again?” You ask.
The fire lord shakes his head, “N-No..?”
“Then…" Your gaze narrows at him skeptically, "What’s that smell?”
Before he gathers his thoughts enough to answer you properly, you turn your head to see one of your nightstands on fire.
Damnit. That’s the third one this week!
Luckily enough for the both of you, the flame isn't as large as it'd been previously. Though, as you let your hand halt in jerking your lover off and try to pull away for a moment to go put the fire out, there's a stronger scent of fumes flying into your nose.
This time it's the smell of burning rope.
Followed by which is the sound of something snapping and suddenly—there's a pair of grabby hands meeting your arms and your body is being pushed right over.
A flutter of royal-red and gold fabrics scatter around your frame and drape your sides whilst your attention is redirected upwards. Panting above you is your needy husband Zuko, who's got his brows furrowed slightly and his eyes pleading as they land down on you, "Ignore it," He suggests.
You flash a confused look at him and then playfully swat at his chest, "I can't just ignore it, that's the third one this week!"
He shyly glances off to the side before muttering, "...So?"
"What do you mean so?" You scoff, "We'll have to rebuild the entire bedroom suite at this rate!"
His eyes find yours again and you feel his body coming closer to yours, flinching at the wet swipe of his drooling cockhead over your inner thigh as he adjusts himself. "You're the one who insisted on teasing me."
"You asked me to." You remind him.
"Well,” He frowns a little, “When I told you to use me, I was hoping..."
Your hands reach up to cup his face and pull him down impossibly closer—the warmth of his body enveloping you further. "Hoping what, my lord?" You whisper.
He shoots you a short-lived glare, "What'd I tell you about that?" You give him a cheeky smile and he rolls his eyes at it. "I was hoping you'd use me in here," To add emphasis to his words, his cock comes pressing against the soppy wet-spot in your panties.
"Zuko!" You gasp in surprise, earning a sleazy little smile from him.
Then comes a quick finger to swat that measly fabric out the way, his tip rushing to kiss the saturated lips of your cunt and smear the apart for entry.
Just before he can push into you, "Wait," You huff, "When and how did you break free?"
"Hm?” Zuko raises a brow, “Free of what?" He hums innocently.
Your expression is entirely unconvinced of his innocent act. Deadpanning, "You burned the ropes again, didn't you?"
Another smile paints into his perfect features before he grinds his hips down into yours, throbbing cock sliding ever-so-gracefully into you as if to distract you. Zuko leans down to your ear to whisper, "What ropes?" and you hear some sort of flame crackling in the distance.
He definitely just set something else on fire just from pushing himself into you, but it’s not like he gave you much room to care. Not with the way his dick felt easing your walls open and stretching you out in the same fashion you’d beg him to nearly every other night—if not every single night.
Surely the fire nation would be expecting an heir to the throne any day now. Though, you’re not sure this heir would come about with your bedroom in one piece…
Especially since Zuko has a bad habit of burning things when he cums.
(not proofread btw) || banner art by Rororogi Mogera || tags:
synopsis . Overstim with your husband but he keeps accidentally setting things on fire because of it. content . afab!reader, masturbation (m!receiving), established relationship, improper use of fire bending(?), overstim, wife!reader, switching dynamics, bondage, pet names, nipple play (m!receiving), somewhat dom!reader, missionary, manhandling, etc.
“S-Shit,” Zuko huffed, hips insistent with their bucking as he uncontrollably drives the frustrated head of his weepy cock up into your hand.
You sat at his side with your eyes innocently watching as he fell apart entirely under your touch, “Does that feel good?”
He couldn't take his eyes off the way your fingers looked wrapped around his length, “Hhngh-, fuck.. So good,” He huffs, admiring how perfectly you jerked him off and struggling greatly with the bit of rope neatly tied around his wrists—which are positioned behind his back. “D-Don’t stop. Please.”
You squeeze at his base and feel how his veins pulse ‘n twitch against your palm, the tip of his cock a flushed shade of tanned red.
Then your gaze flicked up and you caught the way he threw his head back, letting the long, loose strands of his silky hair flutter all elegantly with the motion. There was certainly nothing more endearing than watching the fire lord come undone before you like this.
A slopped mess of slick cum keeps your hand steady with its slippery motions up 'n down his dick, his balls aching and heavy with need to release yet another load into your palm. You grin before silently leaning forward, letting your lips press into his chest all lightly as you hear him struggle with whines and grunts.
“Ah, your hand is always-, shit… s-s’soft..” Zuko mumbled, his abs tensing at the feel of your touch. Without warning, he nearly whimpers at the sensation of your lips cupping his nipple. “Oh God-,” Your husband's breathing tangles up in his throat, “Wait-, fuck.. Y’know I’m sensitive there, wait—“
“Mmnh..” You hum delightedly against him and let your hands pace quicken against his cock, feeling the entirety of his body heat up for a moment before he begins to twitch all over the place, his wrists fighting against the restraints keeping them in place.
This whole thing had been his idea. He'd asked you time and time again to tie him up and do whatever you want to him, but just like all the times in the past where this has been tried—he never seems to last too long before-
The smell of fumes hit your nose.
You pop your lips off his swollen nipples and halt your sucking for a moment just to look up at his teary-eyed face, admiring the pout he’s got on. “Zuko…” You purr with a slightly raised brow.
He angles his head back down to meet eyes with you, batting those dark pretty lashes at you as if he'd done nothing wrong, “Yes, love?”
“Are you burning through those ropes again?” You ask.
The fire lord shakes his head, “N-No..?”
“Then…" Your gaze narrows at him skeptically, "What’s that smell?”
Before he gathers his thoughts enough to answer you properly, you turn your head to see one of your nightstands on fire.
Damnit. That’s the third one this week!
Luckily enough for the both of you, the flame isn't as large as it'd been previously. Though, as you let your hand halt in jerking your lover off and try to pull away for a moment to go put the fire out, there's a stronger scent of fumes flying into your nose.
This time it's the smell of burning rope.
Followed by which is the sound of something snapping and suddenly—there's a pair of grabby hands meeting your arms and your body is being pushed right over.
A flutter of royal-red and gold fabrics scatter around your frame and drape your sides whilst your attention is redirected upwards. Panting above you is your needy husband Zuko, who's got his brows furrowed slightly and his eyes pleading as they land down on you, "Ignore it," He suggests.
You flash a confused look at him and then playfully swat at his chest, "I can't just ignore it, that's the third one this week!"
He shyly glances off to the side before muttering, "...So?"
"What do you mean so?" You scoff, "We'll have to rebuild the entire bedroom suite at this rate!"
His eyes find yours again and you feel his body coming closer to yours, flinching at the wet swipe of his drooling cockhead over your inner thigh as he adjusts himself. "You're the one who insisted on teasing me."
"You asked me to." You remind him.
"Well,” He frowns a little, “When I told you to use me, I was hoping..."
Your hands reach up to cup his face and pull him down impossibly closer—the warmth of his body enveloping you further. "Hoping what, my lord?" You whisper.
He shoots you a short-lived glare, "What'd I tell you about that?" You give him a cheeky smile and he rolls his eyes at it. "I was hoping you'd use me in here," To add emphasis to his words, his cock comes pressing against the soppy wet-spot in your panties.
"Zuko!" You gasp in surprise, earning a sleazy little smile from him.
Then comes a quick finger to swat that measly fabric out the way, his tip rushing to kiss the saturated lips of your cunt and smear the apart for entry.
Just before he can push into you, "Wait," You huff, "When and how did you break free?"
"Hm?” Zuko raises a brow, “Free of what?" He hums innocently.
Your expression is entirely unconvinced of his innocent act. Deadpanning, "You burned the ropes again, didn't you?"
Another smile paints into his perfect features before he grinds his hips down into yours, throbbing cock sliding ever-so-gracefully into you as if to distract you. Zuko leans down to your ear to whisper, "What ropes?" and you hear some sort of flame crackling in the distance.
He definitely just set something else on fire just from pushing himself into you, but it’s not like he gave you much room to care. Not with the way his dick felt easing your walls open and stretching you out in the same fashion you’d beg him to nearly every other night—if not every single night.
Surely the fire nation would be expecting an heir to the throne any day now. Though, you’re not sure this heir would come about with your bedroom in one piece…
Especially since Zuko has a bad habit of burning things when he cums.
(not proofread btw) || banner art by Rororogi Mogera || tags:
❝we had our downs but we had way more ups,let's make love❞
pairing — firelord zuko! x fem!earthbender!reader
synopsis — who was surprised when you and zuko were the first in the gaang to get pregnant?
content — fem!reader, mature content (17+), suggestive themes, mention of sex, no actual plot really, indulgent fic, takes place seven years before the legend of aang (which takes placed 12 years after ATLA) so Zuko is 22 and Reader is 21, no use of yn, not proofread
author's note — I didn't watch the leaks yet just clips and if I do I'll still be watching the movie to support the animators
The Princess of the Fire Nation, though she often felt that, as the wife of the Fire Lord, she deserved a far grander title, sat before her vanity, studying her reflection. One by one, she had dismissed her maids, choosing instead to prepare for bed on her own. In truth, the new trending fragrance they all insisted on wearing had begun to make her nauseous.
Though, lately, everything seemed to make her sick.
“Aang sent a letter.”
She hadn’t even heard him enter.
Slowly, she turned to face her husband, a faint crease forming between her brows. “My love, you spend all day in council, and the first thing you do after not seeing me for hours is talk more about the council?” she teased lightly, though there was a hint of tiredness beneath it. She turned back to the mirror, picking up her hairbrush and dragging it gently through her hair.
“Well, love, this isn’t about the council. Technically,” he replied, stepping further into the room. “It’s about Aang. He needs our help.”
“Our help?” She turned again, confusion softening her features as she rose from the vanity. Her green satin nightgown draped elegantly over her figure, the gold stitching catching the candlelight with every movement. The most prominent change, however, was the gentle, undeniable curve of her stomach.
“You knocked me up, dummy,” she teased, a small smile tugging at her lips as she approached him. Her hands slid to his shoulders, then to the ties of his robes, beginning to loosen them with practiced ease. “Or did you forget already?”
He laughed softly, the sound low and fond, allowing her to help him out of his robes as the fabric slipped from his shoulders.
“How could I forget?” he murmured, turning toward her.
His gaze drifted over her slowly, appreciatively, before settling on the curve of her stomach. His hands followed, almost instinctively, coming to rest there, warm, steady, protective. His thumbs brushed gentle circles over the satin, as if he could feel something deeper beneath it.
“When you carry the future of the Fire Nation inside you?” he said quietly, his voice softening. “A little piece of me…”
His eyes lifted to meet hers, something tender and unguarded flickering there.
“And all of you.”
She hummed softly, rising onto her tiptoes as her arms slipped around his neck, drawing him down to her. Her lips met his in a gentle, fleeting kiss, soft, familiar, almost teasing.
But when she tried to pull away, he didn’t let her.
His hand tightened at her waist, the other still resting protectively against her stomach as he followed her retreat, capturing her lips again before the distance could grow. Even as her heels lowered back to the floor, he bent with her, closing the space she had tried to create.
This time the kiss deepened, slower, warmer, lingering in a way that stole the breath from her lungs. It wasn’t hurried, but it wasn’t soft either; it carried weight, intention, something unspoken between them.
His thumb brushed lightly against her side as he tilted his head, pressing closer, as if memorizing her. The world beyond them seemed to fade, the council, the letter, everything, leaving only the quiet crackle of candlelight and the steady rhythm of shared breath.
When he finally pulled back, it wasn’t far, just enough for their foreheads to rest together, his lips still ghosting over hers, reluctant to let her go.
“I can’t get you pregnant again, can I? Double pregnant,” he teased, a grin tugging at his lips.
She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head at him. “Oh, you’ve certainly tried,” she replied, her voice laced with amusement. Her hand lingered briefly against his chest before she stepped back, just enough to create space between them. “But don’t try again, I need this thing out of me first.” "I don't know if I love you referring to our child as a thing."
She separated from him fully then, turning slightly as if to busy herself, though she didn’t miss the way his shoulders subtly slumped at the loss of contact. The warmth between them lingered in the space she left behind, unspoken but felt.
Her fingers adjusted the sleeve of her gown absentmindedly, her expression softening for just a moment before she glanced back at him over her shoulder. There was still a hint of her earlier smile there, though now tempered with curiosity.
“Now,” she said, more gently this time, “tell me what Aang wants.”
"That can wait for the morning." He mumbled, his eyes never leaving her lips as he pulled her back into another kiss.
“A village?”
Zuko sighed, steadying Appa’s harness as he helped his wife climb aboard. “Why would he possibly want us to go to a random village?” And why would he say pack a coat? We're going to a mountain aren't we?" she huffed, gripping the edge before finally pulling herself over with a bit more effort than she liked. "I hate mountains."
He lingered below for a moment, looking up at her, concern etched into his features. “Are you sure it’s a good idea for you to go? You can stay—I’ll be back in a couple days.”
She leaned over the edge slightly, brows knitting. “Aang needs the second-best earthbender with him, Zuko. I’m not disabled—”
She winced mid-sentence, her hand instinctively going to her stomach before she turned toward Toph. “Sorry.”
Toph shrugged easily. “Hey, I’m just glad you finally admitted I’m the better earthbender.”
“I give you your flowers when they’re due,” she shot back with a small smile.
Toph grinned, but it slowly faltered, her head tilting slightly as if listening to something no one else could hear. "Your heart must be beating really fast." "Is it?" The princess quirked her head confused. "Why else am I hearing two heartbeats coming from you?”
Katara gasped, her hands flying together in delight. “Oh my gosh, you’re pregnant! I thought your coat was just oddly bulky but you're pregnant! Oh my Gosh!" she exclaimed, immediately rushing forward to wrap the Fire Princess in a tight hug. “I thought they were just rumors, because surely you and Zuko would’ve told us!”
The princess blinked, caught off guard, before her gaze slid over to her husband, who was just now hauling himself rather ungracefully into Appa’s saddle.
“Zuko,” she said slowly, one brow arching, “I thought you told them.”
Zuko froze mid-step, staring back at her blankly. “I thought you did.”
There was a beat.
“Oh my gosh.”
“I mean, it was only a matter of time,” Katara chimed in, smiling knowingly. “You two have never exactly been subtle. And Zuko practically insisted on marrying you the moment he could.”
Toph snorted, crossing her arms. “Yeah, honestly? I’m surprised it took this long. Thought for sure you’d have a whole lineup of heirs by now if Zuko could keep his hands to himself for more than, what? two minutes?”
Zuko nearly choked, his face flushing a deep, unmistakable red. “That’s— I—” He cleared his throat, straightening awkwardly as he avoided everyone’s eyes. “That’s not— we’re not—”
The princess, however, looked entirely unbothered.
In fact, she looked amused.
“Well,” she said lightly, smoothing a hand over her stomach as she glanced at him, “he does have a bit of a… lack of restraint.”
Zuko snapped his head toward her. “You’re not helping.”
Katara laughed, covering her mouth. “I mean, you can’t blame them. You’ve both been—” she hesitated, searching for a polite word before giving up, “—like that since the beginning.”
Toph grinned wider. “Please. ‘Like that’ is putting it nicely.”
“Toph,” Katara warned, though she was still smiling.
“What?” Toph shrugged. “I’m just saying—half the time, I didn’t even need my feet to know when they were in the same room. The tension alone was loud enough.”
The princess let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “You’re all incredibly annoying.”
Zuko groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Can we please focus on the actual reason we’re here?”
“Oh, no, no,” Toph continued, clearly enjoying herself. “You deserve this. All those nights you two kept everyone awake—”
“Okay, that’s enough,” the princess cut in quickly, though a smile tugged at her lips. She glanced at Zuko, amused. “He can’t get any redder. He’s about to turn into a tomato.”
Zuko let out a quiet, embarrassed huff, but didn’t argue, instead shifting closer and settling against her side, seeking some sense of refuge.
She softened slightly at that, her expression gentler as she let him.
“Let’s just go get Sokka,” he muttered, still avoiding everyone’s gaze.
The princess had shrugged off her coat minutes into the trip. They weren’t even close to Aang yet, and the extra weight had her uncomfortably warm, a light sheen of sweat clinging to her skin. The shifting air currents around Appa did little to help.
Katara, however, had not left her alone once.
The questions came one after another, gentle but relentless, curiosity shining in her eyes.
“How far along are you?”
“Five months,” she answered, offering a tired but polite smile.
“What’s the gender?”
“No clue.”
“Any baby names lined up?”
“We’re trying for something that blends earth and fire,” she said, glancing briefly at Zuko, “but nothing’s stuck yet.”
Katara brightened. “That’s so sweet—”
“Are you going to have more?”
The princess didn’t even hesitate. “Have you met my husband?”
Katara blinked, then laughed, covering her mouth.
Zuko, meanwhile, coughed into his fist, his ears burning all over again.
Through it all, his hand never left her, resting protectively over her stomach, thumb brushing slow, absent circles as if grounding himself in her presence. Every so often, his grip would tighten slightly whenever Appa shifted, like he could somehow steady both her and the child at once.
“Careful,” he murmured under his breath at one point, guiding her subtly as the saddle dipped.
“I’m fine,” she replied, though she didn’t pull away from him.
By the time the icy waters and familiar structures of the Southern Water Tribe came into view, the air had grown colder, sharper against their skin. Snow dusted the ground below, and the distant figures of Water Tribe members began to gather, pointing up at Appa’s descending form.
They didn’t have to search long.
Sokka was already striding across the snow toward them, boots crunching loudly with each step, his grin widening the second he took them in.
“Well, well,” he called, arms spreading like he was welcoming honored guests. “Look who finally decided to show up. Took you two long enough.”
His gaze flicked between them, lingering, calculating, before it dropped.
Then paused.
“…Whoa.”
Zuko stiffened immediately. “Don’t.”
But Sokka was already circling them, slow and deliberate, like he was inspecting something fascinating. “No way. No way. You’re serious?”
The princess raised a brow, unimpressed. “Very.”
Sokka let out a low whistle, dragging a hand down his face before pointing straight at Zuko. “I mean, I knew you two had issues with personal space, but I didn’t think you’d go and make it this… I don't even know the word for it. You two are freaks."
Zuko groaned, already regretting coming. “Sokka.”
“What?” Sokka shrugged, smirk growing. “You expect me to ignore this? This isn't even groundbreaking it's just expected from you both knowing you. This is, this is what happens when you two get even five minutes alone, isn’t it?”
Toph let out a quiet snort.
Sokka leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough to make it worse. “Actually, scratch that. Five minutes is probably generous.”
Zuko made a strangled noise. “Okay.”
Katara slapped a hand over her face. “Sokka—”
“No, no, I’m just connecting the dots,” he continued, clearly enjoying himself. “All those times you disappeared during meetings, all those ‘private discussions’ yeah, makes a lot more sense now.”
The princess tilted her head, completely unbothered. “You’re being very bold for someone standing this close to me.”
Sokka grinned. “I’m just impressed, honestly. You two had so much tension it was practically a natural disaster, and now—” he gestured vaguely toward her stomach, “—this is the aftermath. Surprised it took you this long."
Toph laughed outright at that.
Zuko looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.
Sokka wasn’t done.
“I mean seriously,” he added, folding his arms, “if this is what happens when the Fire Lord gets a little too… distracted, I’m shocked there’s not a second one already on the way.”
Zuko choked. “That’s enough.”
“Hey, I’m congratulating you!” Sokka shot back. “Just saying, next time, maybe let people know before you two go off and—”
“Sokka.”
“—expand the royal family.”
Katara shoved him lightly. “You’re unbelievable.”
“But not wrong,” he corrected smoothly.
The princess let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Unfortunately, he’s not entirely wrong.”
Zuko turned to her, betrayed. “You’re encouraging him.”
“We've been married for eleven months and I've been pregnant for five of them, you lack restraint Zuko” she stated bluntly, though her smile gave her away. He shook his head leaning close so only he could hear her. "Who suggested riding me in the throne ro-" "Okay hush now."
Sokka clapped his hands together once, satisfied. “Great. Now that we’ve established the Fire Lord has absolutely no self-control—”
“Sokka.”
“—can someone please tell me why Aang is dragging us to some random village?"
The teasing was warranted, deserved, even.
The Fire Nation had taken your father, your brother. Zuko’s redemption didn’t erase that. Not to you. He had hunted you, cornered you, forced you into survival more times than you could count. While the others learned to trust him, to laugh with him, to move on… you hadn’t. Not so easily.
So yeah, there had been tension.
A lot of it.
It just… hadn’t been resolved in a way anyone else approved of.
His lips brushed slowly along the inside of her thigh, unhurried, deliberate, testing, teasing. The touch alone was enough to pull a quiet, unwilling sound from her, her breath catching despite herself.
“Just do it already,” she muttered, more breath than voice, her fingers tightening against the sheets.
Zuko clicked his tongue softly, unfazed. Another kiss followed, closer this time, but still not quite where she wanted, where she needed.
“Not until you say please.”
Her head tipped back in frustration. “Why would I have to say please?” she shot back weakly. “You said you were atoning for everything your nation did. Consider this part of your apology.”
A quiet huff of amusement left him, warm against her skin. “I’ve been atoning for two months now,” he murmured, his voice low, almost thoughtful.
Another slow press of his lips, lingering.
“And yet,” he added, “every morning I wake up and you’ve already taken my portion of breakfast because, apparently, ‘murderers don’t deserve to eat.’”
She exhaled sharply, somewhere between a scoff and something softer. “Well, when the Fire Nation killed my family, I couldn’t afford breakfast—”
“I know.” His tone shifted immediately, the teasing giving way to something heavier, sincere. His hand stilled, grounding. “I know. And I’m sorry.”
There was a pause, the air between them tightening, thick with everything unsaid.
“I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it,” he continued quietly. “For what I did… for what I stood for.”
His placed a long kiss to her core, a soft moan (against her will) escaped her lips.
“Let me try,” he said, voice gentler now. “Even if it’s not enough.”
“I’m glad you all could make it, this village needs our help with—” Aang began, pulling back from Katara mid-sentence.
His eyes flicked across the group.
Paused.
Then widened.
“…Are—did—?”
He leaned toward Katara, lowering his voice into what he clearly thought was a whisper. “Am I allowed to ask people if they’ve gained weight?”
Katara’s eyes widened. “No, Aang. We’ve been over this.”
Aang nodded quickly. “Right, right. No asking.”
“…They’re pregnant,” she added quietly.
Aang blinked.
Then looked back at them.
Then back at Katara.
“…Zuko’s pregnant too?”
Toph snorted.
Sokka immediately burst out laughing. “Yeah, yeah, Fire Lord had a lot to do with it actually.”
Zuko’s face flushed instantly. “That’s not—”
“I’m pregnant, Aang,” the princess cut in, voice flat.
“Oh!” Aang straightened immediately, relief flooding his face. “Oh, that makes way more sense.”
There was a beat.
“…Congratulations!” he added, a little too late but entirely sincere.
Then his expression shifted, concern creeping in.
“Wait, are you sure you should be here?” he asked, glancing between her and Zuko. “I mean, with everything going on… I don’t want you getting hurt.”
Zuko immediately nodded. “Exactly.”
She sighed.
“I’m pregnant, not made of glass,” she said, crossing her arms lightly. “I can still help.”
Toph smirked. “Told you.”
Katara smiled gently. “We’ll keep an eye on you. Just in case.”
Sokka grinned. “Yeah, someone has to make sure Zuko doesn’t give himself an aneurysm trying to watch after the princess.”
Zuko shot him a glare.
Aang hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. I trust you. Just… be careful, alright?”
She gave a small, confident nod.
“Always.”
Aang clapped his hands together once, refocusing. “Right, so. The village has been dealing with a spirit. It’s been acting aggressively, and I think it’s tied to something in the mountain.”
The princess exhaled slowly. “…So you did drag us out here for a mountain.”
Aang winced. “Technically… yes.”
Zuko sighed. “Of course.”
Toph cracked her knuckles. “Good. I was getting bored.”
Sokka looked between them, grin already returning. “Alright, angry spirit, pregnant Fire-Earth Princess, and Zuko on edge. This should go great.”
She leaned slightly into Zuko’s side, her hand brushing his.
“Next time,” she murmured, “we ignore the letter and go to Ember Island."
He huffed softly. “…Agreed.”
love speaks! rushed and indulgent sorry i wish this was better but if i draft it it'll never get done. divider by @/cafekitsune
⋆✴︎˚｡ Husband!Zuko who lovesss putting you in a head locking during sex
You were completely, shamelessly addicted to Zuko’s arms.
It wasn’t just that they were big now—thick, powerful, corded with muscle from years of firebending, sword training, and carrying the weight of a nation. It was the way they felt when he used them on you. The sheer strength. The way the veins stood out when he flexed. The way his biceps bulged like warm steel when he wrapped one around your throat and held you exactly where he wanted you.
And nothing compared to doggy style.
Nothing.
Tonight the palace was quiet, the heavy curtains drawn, only the low glow of firelight flickering across Zuko’s bare chest as he stood at the edge of the massive bed. You were already on all fours in the center of it, knees spread, back arched deep, ass up and waiting. Your pussy was dripping down your thighs before he’d even touched you.
Zuko climbed onto the bed behind you, the mattress dipping under his weight. His big hands gripped your hips first, squeezing the soft flesh, thumbs digging in possessively.
“Look at you,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “Already soaked for me.”
You pushed back against him, whining. “Zuko… please.”
He leaned over you, chest pressing to your back, and you felt it—the heavy, thick length of his cock sliding between your folds, teasing your entrance. Then his right arm slid around your throat.
Your whole body lit up.
He didn’t choke you. He headlocked you. His massive bicep curled under your chin, the thick muscle pressing firmly against your neck while his forearm locked across your collarbone. His left hand braced on the bed beside your head for leverage. You were completely trapped, caged by his body, his strength, his heat.
And you moaned like you were in heat.
“Fuck—yes,” you gasped, tilting your head back into the crook of his arm. Your pussy clenched hard around nothing.
Zuko chuckled darkly against your ear, the sound vibrating through his chest into your back. “You really are crazy for these arms, aren’t you?”
You nodded frantically, already grinding back against his cock. “I love them. I love when you lock me up like this. Makes me feel so small… so owned.”
His grip tightened just enough to make your head spin in the best way. Then he pushed in.
One long, slow thrust and he buried every thick inch inside you, stretching you open until you felt him in your stomach. The headlock kept you perfectly arched, ass up higher, back bowed deep so he could sink even deeper.
Zuko groaned, low and filthy. “So fucking tight like this.”
He started moving—deep, powerful strokes that made the bed creak. Every time he bottomed out, his hips slapped against your ass, his heavy balls hitting your clit. The bicep around your throat flexed with every thrust, the muscle bulging harder against your skin. You could feel the raw power in it, the way it could crush you if he wanted, but instead it just held you right there for him to fuck.
You were drooling.
Your mouth hung open, eyes rolling back as he pounded into you. Every thrust forced a broken moan out of your throat.
“Harder,” you begged, voice hoarse. “Zuko, baby—please, use me. Fuck me like you own me.”
He snarled and gave you exactly what you wanted.
His pace turned brutal. The wet, obscene sound of his cock slamming into your soaked pussy filled the room. His left hand left the bed and reached underneath you, two thick fingers finding your swollen clit and rubbing tight, fast circles.
The headlock never loosened. His bicep stayed locked tight under your jaw, keeping your head pulled back against his shoulder so he could growl filthy praises right against your ear.
“That’s it… take this dick. Such a greedy little thing for me. You love being locked up in my arm while I ruin this pussy, don’t you?”
“Yes—yes, fuck yes—” You were shaking, thighs trembling, pussy fluttering wildly around his thick dick.
He flexed his bicep deliberately, the peak of the muscle pressing harder into the side of your neck. The pressure made everything sharper, hotter. Your vision sparkled at the edges.
“Come for me,” he ordered, voice dark and commanding. “Come while I’ve got you trapped. Let me feel how much you love my arms.”
You shattered.
Your orgasm crashed through you so hard your arms gave out. You would have collapsed face-first into the pillows if Zuko’s headlock hadn’t held you up. Your pussy clamped down on him like a vice, gushing around his cock as wave after wave rolled through you. You screamed his name, body convulsing, tears of pleasure slipping down your cheeks.
Zuko fucked you straight through it, hips never slowing, growling praises and curses as your walls milked him.
Only when you started to go limp did he loosen the headlock just enough to let you breathe properly. He pulled out, flipped you onto your back in one smooth motion, and shoved your knees up to your chest.
Then he slid back inside you in one thrust and started chasing his own release
His arms caged you again—this time both of them, one on each side of your head, biceps flexing as he drove into you hard and deep. You wrapped your legs around his waist and clung to those massive arms, kissing and biting at the thick muscle while he fucked you into the mattress.
“Gonna fill you up,” he panted, sweat dripping from his brow onto your chest. “Gonna put a baby in you tonight.”
You moaned, nails digging into his biceps. “Yes—please, Zuko. Come inside me. I need it.”
He buried his face in your neck and came with a deep, guttural groan, hips stuttering as he pumped you full, hot and thick. You felt every pulse, every spurt, and you clenched around him like you could keep it all inside.
When he finally collapsed on top of you, careful not to crush you with his full weight, his arms still surrounded you—loose now, but protective.
You pressed lazy kisses to his bicep, the one you loved so much, and whispered against his skin, “I’m never getting enough of these arms. Especially when you headlock me like that.”
Zuko laughed breathlessly, rolling to the side and pulling you against his chest. His hand drifted down to rest over your lower belly, thumb stroking gently.
“Good,” he murmured, voice warm and satisfied. “Because I plan on doing that every single night until you’re round with our baby.”
You smiled, already feeling the familiar heat building again as you nuzzled into his chest.
“Promise?”
He flexed his arm around you, letting you feel the hard swell of his bicep one more time.
“Promise.”
dividers - @/cafekitsune
an - Hiiiiii my babies! I’ve missed y’all so much, so sorry for the ghosting! I lowkey couldn’t catch a break (lmao), but I’m back and ready to serve now 𓏲ּ𝄢
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