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lvrgirl-inc · 3 days ago

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pair. Guitarist Boy Toy!Choso x Lead Singer f!reader

wc. 1.3k

genres. Bands, band mates, “Great show” quickie, “It’s in my jeans genes,” cunn!lingus, sub!Choso, treat me like your guitar, behind set, touring, dressing room.

AN ; “I just wanna be part of your symphony.”

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There you were, barbecue sauce on your—okay. Not actually. But a great opener, right?

Speaking of, you and your band had just had one. A stadium of faces, all cheering the name of each party on stage—Choso Kamo and you.

You two were the best duet since Kali Uchis and Daniel Caesar. With Choso’s god tier skills on the frets and how your voice managed to capture hearts—you two were unstoppable.

And you had one of the best methods of celebrating a good gig.

“Mmf— augh, Cho..~” you’d be panting out, sprawled along the luminescent vanity of your dressing room mirror. Your thighs tightly hugging his face and a fresh pedicure disturbing the back fabric of his shirt.

The real kicker was how those eyes just bore up into you, even as he was fucking his tongue in out of your cunt. “.. ‘M sorry, ma’am..” he’d whine back in between the brief breaks of his mouth’s contact with your pussy. “Y’just taste..so..ngh…”

Cut off in a moan of his own, you felt his deeply inky polished nails sinking deeper into the fat of your ass, exposed only by his hasty riding up of your performance dress.

“Your pipes were fuckin’..perfect, mistress…” placing a kiss to your clit and the slurping right back into your sticky slit once more. “Hit ‘em higher..mhn..make her sing..~” in that same puppy-dog tone that had your mouth falling agape as your hand scrabbled a bit to place shaky fingers back on the reflectional glass.

The other primly pressed set of nails was raking though his hair, which you’d insisted he wore down for the sake of fan service—but looking back on it now, it was definitely self-indulgent.

“Hnngh..uhuh, yeahh, you hit a-all the right notes for me…” you’d shakily praise, hoping that you didn’t sound like you didn’t know what you were saying..which you sort of didn’t. That swivel of his tongue was wicked. “Oh fuuck, don’t stop, Cho..~”

The sounds of the venue filing to an emptiness could be heard outside of the walls, masses of chatter and yet all the raven heard was you. Like you were the most harmonious song he’d ever heard or ever really needed to hear ever again.

Your hips were grinding filthily on the hook his skilled tongue had inside you. Like your life depended on it, really. Eyebrows furrowed and tilted just north where they almost met. Biting that previously-glossed bottom lip—that which your pussy’s current companion had already made quick work of.

He shifted further onto his knees, seeming as if he’d die if he took his mouth off your cunt for even a second. His nails sliding from cupping your underside that was now properly laced with a film of evidence. Evidence of Choso’s handiwork on you, that is.

Sliding them under your thighs, he pushed them back a bit, causing you to slide down further off the dressing table, where he was able to lick a long stripe from where his tongue had been safely nuzzled to your pearly clit.

You knew you saw him all the time—this way and in more cordiality—but you seriously couldn’t get over the way he looked at you. Like every word that fell from you was gospel, like each and every twitch of your features contorted by his inflictions was prophetic.

Of course, you two did write music together, so he could easily register that as some form of scripture. He worshipped you. And you could feel the results of his dutiful homage shuddering up your spine.

The clumsily still-attached heel of yours finally makes a clack to the ground as your ankles curve and cross in the diamond of his shoulder blades.

God, to live in this moment, hearing that soft, “Are you cummin’ again, Ms. Pretty..?” almost whimpered against you. Sometimes he wouldn’t admit it to the furthest extent—but eating you out got him off, bad.

So when that climbing octave tone came up into your voice, “Mhn-, mhmm yeah, yeahyeahyeah..” easily increasing in desperation as you nodded, nails now making the best effort to anchor yourself onto him as your hips ground down on him maddeningly.

How could he not moan right along with you? With how your walls were spasming around his tongue. His own cock had been tenting obscenely for what must’ve been over an hour or so. Now an aching tip, grinding between the rough of his jeans and his thigh, just weeping from devouring you.

Choso knew how you got when you were close, so his arms gathered a tighter grip on you as your waist instinctively tried to pry away—oh but it was too late for that.

You were clamping up around him in no time at all and he heard that drop-dead adorable little gasp that you made before swallowing it down. Only for it to come out as a series of pitchy breaths. His tongue drank you in through your climax even whilst full-body shudders started to wrack you.

“Hnn-! God f-fuckin’ please,” you’d say, finally getting over the first immobilization process and letting your stomach flutter rapidly. “Good fucking boyy, Cho..k-keep goin’..” softly encouraged as he worked hard to work you through.

Choso was simply beside himself. No, not only because he could feel his jaw aching—that has never and will never be a problem that either you have to fret over. But what did get to him was…ahem, you.

Unbeknownst to you, feeling those warm muffs around his face, how you convulsed when your essence was painting his tongue, what he could manage to hear from your mouth when your cunt—which was 20x louder in his head than anything—he just couldn’t help but cum right then and there.

Still maneuvering his tongue through your walls, chin slick and eyes lazily narrowed on your post-orgasmic haze. That following a shaky breath of a laughter as you carded your fingers through your hair. Staring down at the mess that was made of your custom dress, how Choso’s eyeliner was even starting to run similar to yours.

Though nowhere near as intense.

And..getting the hint, Choso pulled off of your pussy, giving another round of loving, sloppy kisses before officially detaching. Truly, if you were a drug, the FDA would’ve had his hide millennia ago. Because fuck was he hooked.

You’d lean forward, lazily cupping his face up into your hands, even while your moist thighs were still settled on his shoulders. Brushing back those beautiful midnight strands, you smiled in that fucked-way that had Choso flushing deeper than you.

Yeah, because he was the one who begged to come back here for a rest after you walked off stage. He was definitely the one who suggested that the thrill would be fun ‘hypothetically.’ And he was definitely the one who just came…three times, now? Yeah. Totally.

But that fluster was always the cutest. Even more so when you leaned down to kiss him. Getting a loud makeout session as you whispered ‘thank you’s against his lips. Tasting your essence there, even moreso when he started giving you the French treatment.

Your breathlessly giggling mouth parted from his as you snagged a strand of hair behind your ear to get a proper look at him. “I don’t know where you learned to eat pussy like that, Mr. Kamo.” a tease as you watched his eyes drift for a second, just for the use of his last name. But it was nice to turn his head back to you gently.

“Hmm, you could say it’s in my jeans.” with an aversion down before coming back up to you.

Thrown off slightly by the motion, you smiled with a raised eyebrow. “You mean in your genes, Cho?”

“…Ah..no.” in a mousy voice.

Fuck. You were so in love.

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