24. Just a silly lil artist with silly lil artist block
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BOOM SHAKALAKA

I fear i am no longer capable of being normal about this
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WHAT?????????? HELLO???? WHERES THE RESPECT?!
Why resist me now? You made your choice when you stepped inside...
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I am NOT OKAY after watching LADS Tomorrow’s Catch-22 trailer.
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Absolute MASTERPIECE

✩彡 choso never thought in a million years he'd be a top 0.01% OF creator, but hey here we are.
nsfw + masterbation + camboy choso + dirty talk + theoretical pussy eating.
choso was only half serious when he started his onlyfans.
he would cooonstantly get compliments on his body—his broad shoulders and lats. his thick, heavy biceps, that damn near bulged out of his sleeves. his chest and abs that were begging to be touched … plus he was hung, so he figured, shit, why not?
surprisingly, he blew up. his claim to fame being his mouth. he looovvedd dirty talk and so did his thousands of very loyal subscribers—
“fuuuckk, bet you wish it was you bouncin’ on my fat fuckin' dick ‘stead of this toy” choso grunts out, slooowly rolling his hips into his tight little fleshlight. his hair is undone and messy, pretty strands of jet black falling in wild, strands on his shoulders.
the tattoos that littered his arm dance as he pumps himself uppp and down and through the clear rubber, you could see his cock—chubby tip flushed a pretty pink as the little humps and ridges ran over him massaging and milking him dry.
there's a thin layer of sweat that clings to his chest. it traces the ridges of his abs as they lowly glisten under his dim room light, stomach sticky and warm with his cum.
“probably fucking yourself dumb wishin' it was me.” the chat moves a mile a minute, messages flooding in so fast they’re almost a blur, “oooohhh yeah, my dirty little slut gripping me so tiiighhtt,” thousands and thousands of viewers begging him to come and fuck them.
you weren't any different.
his lips curl into a sinful smirk, before he loudly groans, “go ahead and play with that preeetty pussy for me, let me see it” squelching sounds echoing from the little toy. with every flick of his wrist his tip pokes and bulges out of the rubber because he's just so big. needs a real pussy to stuff full.
you watch with eager eyes, your fingers cramping up as you rub against your needy clit, but fuck it's not enough. you wish he was there to touch you. you wish you could replace that dumb toy and let him use you. you turn over and drag open your nightstand table before pulling out your vibrator.
a subtle bzzzzz fills your room as you push the little on button before pressing it against your pretty clit, a moan falling from your lips.
"yeahhh, play with that pussy for me, juuust like that" choso pulls his heavy cock out of the fleshlight with a pop. clear strings pull at his tip and he's slapping himself against toy, "get it niiice 'n wet for me, fuckk yes baby"
your eyes roll back, your hips bucking up as you shake and twitch against your sheets. and you're soo fucking wet, dripping all over making a mess of your bed. all for him.
you like to pretend he’s there with you. like it’s him flicking his wet tongue against your clit, spitting and slobbering all over your pussy. or like he’s actually in your ear whispering his dirty nothings.
"auughh fuuck im so c-close” he groans to hide his little whimpers, his heavy balls twitching as he slides back in, pumping into the toy.
and so are you. your pretty walls clentch around nothing just begging to be filled by his fat cock. your tummy grows warmer and warmer, hips rolling against your vibrator.
his pumps grow sloppy, erratic and hes looudd. quickly repositioning himself in front of the camera, before pulling out of the toy to jerk himself off, shooting his warm cum onto the lens— thick strips of white blurring it till it’s all ruined, dripping wet
at the same time, your eyes squeeze shut— your back arching against the mattress, knees knocking together as the vibrations carry over and fuck you through your high.
it takes you a second to catch your breath then your eyes flutter open to your screen.
only choso’s chest is visible in the camera. he's out of breath, panting and hissing through clenched teeth as he whispers, "come clean this fuckin' mess up"
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*CRUNCH*
Gojo WIP
brklyn_bliss on x
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Ate this up for breakfast, lunch and dinner
🔞🍎 Caleb tries hard to hold back from pounding you deep into the mattress, smirking with furrowed brows as he lazily holds your hips while attentively watching you ride him. He loves the way his colonel cap slides down your head as you keep moving up and down his cock, clenching as you grind for further friction. He holds back a moan, and squints as the tip of his erection slips out and slaps between your butt cheeks. His hand travels down to your ass and he squeezes it in an attempt to appease his overwhelming thirst before giving it a light pat.
“More than a punishment, this feels like quite the reward, pipsqueak. Ugh—”
You can’t think clearly, and ignore him breaking the rules as he pushes himself up on his elbows to take one of your breast between his lips. He sucks, inducing a moan to escape your dry throat. You can feel him smiling as he laps at your nipple.
And then his hips snap up— the head of his cock perfectly reaching your sweet spot. You start seeing stars as your climax finally reaches you. Caleb groans, and buries his face between your tits. He licks, and nibbles while moaning— body trembling and tense as he comes deep inside of you. You’re both sticky with sweat but stay just like that; basking in the afterglow pleasure and in each other’s warmth.
“I guess I should disappear more often, pipsqueak,” he chuckles before giving you a light, heartwarming kiss. “If this is what I get, I gladly accept it.”
His meaningful smile sends sparks running your body again… And his hand finds its way into your wet core, ready for whenever you give him the signal.
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90 MPH HIGHWAY, HANDS OFF THE WHEEL, PANTS OFF
Madam Kamo - C.K.
Synopsis. Bréeding kínk? Going feraI? What the hell is that? Maybe your sweet clan leader husband knows the answer…
Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, clan leader! Choso, arranged marriage, mentions of heirs, he’s a little ínsane, elders are awful, MARATHONS, he goes FÉRAL, BRÉEDING, creampíes, a lot of cúmplay, semi-public, dóm Choso, oraI (fem rec), cervíx kíssing, making it fit, bulges, cúmflations, matíng presses, dúmbification, overstím, making him CRY, p talking, spítting, HEADLOCKS, slight 5 + 1 things, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 9.3k
A/N. CLAN LEADER CHOSO CLAN LEADER CHOSO

Choso Kamo - firstborn son of the ancient Kamo clan, more of a myth than a man.
Those who attended the sprawling Kamo Estate never dared utter a word about him; and those who didn’t, well, he was all that they could talk about.
He left no evidence, he left no remorse.
Only rumors of a silent, stoic leader who could slaughter four entirely different clans before he let even a singular whisper of it spread amongst the masses. Ones of pretty mahogany eyes, and a silver bow and arrows that hit the target of your very soul - so fluid it was as if he’d forged the weapon with his own blood.
And then there were the other rumors - more gossip than anything, really. Spread throughout every nook and cranny of stuffy social functions about how the deadly Kamo clan leader had another, secretive side. A softer side.
But, of course, rumors were rumors. Choso Kamo was simply an enigma.
And…your new husband.
“Zoning out, hm?” A hot gust of breath sends shivers sprinting down your spine, and in an instant you’re snapping your eyes to latch onto deep, hazel ones. Choso’s. The edge of his plump lips curl slightly upwards, “My apologies, this wedding reception is quite droning, isn’t it?”
Hastily breathing, “N-no! Of course not, I…” You’re wincing when yet another wizened elder saunters up to the raised platform of your table. Probably the hundredth of the night. “-yeah, maybe a bit.”
Choso stifles out a rumbling bout of chuckles as he catches your gaze, so close now that his pearly white teeth almost nick your sensitive earlobe. “Let me take care of this, my wife.”
And when Choso shifts over to nod curtly at your oncoming guest, you couldn’t help but appreciate how beautiful he is. All tall, towering lines of lean muscle, his silken black yukata wafting of heady cologne, and delicate features that made him have almost as many admirers as he did foes.
Or, at least, delicate features that were currently twisted into something hardened. Something exactly like clan leader Kamo of all the stories.
He’s tilting his head up, long lashes narrowed, “Elder Tanaka, a pleasure.”
“No no! The pleasure’s all mine.” The older man slurs drunkenly, and despite the way his words were just dripping with saccharine sweet politeness, years of suffering through these exact interactions had made it easy for you to spot faux niceties. Like right now. “Or should I say- the new madam’s. You must be glad to marry into a clan as esteemed as the Kamo’s.”
The plastic smile that smears all over your face is painful, and you’re biting your tongue before it betrays you. “Yes, of c-”
“My apologies for cutting in, madam.” You’re startling - but you don’t know whether it’s because of the softened fingerpads that intertwine around yours, or the utter fire curdling in Choso’s eyes. “But I must say, I am the lucky one here.”
Oh.
Elder Tanaka is more impressive than you thought - his mask of respect barely even cracks, other than the jerky twitch of one eye. Honestly, you don’t think he’s ever heard Choso speak this much ever before. Quickly gathering his bearings, “Ah- ah, of course, master Kamo! Correct as always!”
Fuck- you can’t hold back the way you roll your eyes, only remembering yourself when Choso’s engulfing hands loosen from your own to give your thigh a warm squeeze.
“You have wedded quite the catch, of course of course.” Your unwelcome company finally, finally looks at you properly. A sneer coating his slow blinking, “I-I simply meant that considering the master’s incredible power, wealth, and options, what she brings to the table-”
“-is herself.” Choso finishes off monotonically. “And that’s all I need.”
Choso’s words were husky, his grip on you tight. And you wonder if he even realized just how hard he was clutching onto your heated skin - mountains of his palm dragging a smooth up n’ down your clothed leg.
You knew he was well-hidden underneath the lacy tablecloth, you knew that not a single elder, family member, or friend bustling about your wedding reception could see that particular touch over the dim yolky lighting.
But something about it just made you feel hot.
It takes you a few fuzzy seconds to realize that Elder Tanaka was still speaking - in fact, he’d even summoned over a few more members of the council to encircle your decadent table. All the more voices speaking at you rather than to you.
“-that’s what I was saying-” You’re catching croaked-out snatches of conversation, warily eyeing the way the men clap each other supportively on their backs.“-it’s about the right time don’t you think?”
Another one nods, “Jin has been waiting for so long, after all-”
“-yes yes, to have an heir-”
Oh.
That’s what had Choso’s high cheekbones currently dusted with a faintly blossoming rose pink. That’s what had his thickened digits dipping past your luxurious evening yukata to rover between your thighs higher, and higher- like he didn’t even realize what he was doing.
Like he was yearning for it.
“The Kamo clan shall have an heir.” You’re interrupting their ramblings, the mere sound of your voice enough to make Choso’s fingertips twitch. Smooth skin prickling with heaps of goosebumps already when you lock eyes right with his. “As soon as my husband is ready, right?”
And Choso Kamo was brought up with the most rigorous of training, raised to never show even the barest flicker of emotion - especially one where he’s caught off guard.
But right now he knows that he looks as stunned as he feels.
Coral pink maw falling into a soft oh! dark whirlpools of his eyes glinting with something so utterly raw. The trembling tips of his fingers lurch up just the barest inch to drag a lazy line down your pussymound.
He’s instantaneously shifting his free hand up in one, fluid motion to cover the feverishly flushed half of his face. Jaw clenching with a sharp click! of his teeth when he swipes the fat pad of his thumb down a fresh bead of your leaking slick, making such a flimsy mess of your drenched panties. Was this all for him?
Because now Choso’s getting…greedy.
And you’re almost letting off a slight whimper when he hastily drags his scouring hand away - that is, before every and any sound dies in your throat once your husband dips his wetted thumb past his lips and sucks.
Subtly.
And his voice cracks oh-so-pathetically, “R-right.”
Eyes staring deeply into yours when he parts his doughy fingertips mere millimeters to lather it with a fat wad of saliva. Your breath hitches in your chest, frantically glancing at the babbling group of men who were, thankfully, way too absorbed in themselves to notice your little…tryst.
And it’s only with all his years as a seasoned fighter that Choso’s nuzzling his soaked digits back between your jittery thighs. In a flash.
Planting exactly three soppy smack! smack! smacks! plapped onto the perfect arch of your drooling pussy. Choso’s raising his neat brows at just how those tremors make you squirm in your seat.
“Ch-Cho—so-” You’re gasping under your breath, hips repeatedly shuffling on your cushiony chair when he licks up repeated, sultry circles- no, wait, hearts along the slippery slit of your covered cunt. Up and down. “Th-they might see…”
“Shhh, don’t want them to hear, baby.” He’s leaning in to pant out a murked cloud against your ear, throat bobbing with a ravenous swallow of saliva as he then probes a few stuffy fingers under your panties. “You seem stressed– Let me take care of it.”
Oh, it was a promise - and the rasping growl that bled into Choso’s tone told you that he was well and fully intent on accomplishing his little task. “Spread those pretty legs now.”
With a steady, muscular calf hooked with your own, he’s cracking your thighs evermore parted. The scorching hot press of his big, beefy forearm over your shoulders making you feel as if you’re on the verge of melting. Practically on his lap now-
“Is everything alright, master–?” You’re hearing from what sounds like somewhere over in the distance, even though you already know that it’s from right in front of you.
“Everything is quite alright.” Choso’s plush pecs vibrate with his rapid answer, and you’re finding yourself leaning your weight onto his. Huffing and puffing near the crook of his neck, “It seems the madam is just feeling a little ah…tired, right now. Continue your talk, elders.”
Tired - you couldn’t feel more riled up if you even tried.
“Ngh- Choso-” You’re sinking your teeth into your wobbly lower lip, hard enough to draw blood. High, carved chair singing off a slight creak! when you’re bucking your hips up to jostle his gluttonous fingers closer to where you wanted him the most. “-need you.”
Well, whatever his wife wanted - you got.
In simple nanoseconds, Choso’s snugly prying away your gauzy lace. Letting the too-thin fabric snap back against your sappy cunt with a teasing little swat!
Before you can blink, he’s gracing your panties with microscopic tears at just how eager he was to give your plump, buttony clit a good, hard push. Cold golden wedding ring perking up against your most tender spots. Flexible wrists bending towards an even vulgarly deep angle to keep you from escaping-
And you think you could scream, you think you could open your mouth to make a scene - before Choso beats you to it. Purring out an oblivious, “Is everything alright, my wife? You seem a little feverish.”
All the while slipping n’ sliding his fingerpads to smear your gluey pussylips open. Mazing down, down, down in a lecherous little pace to plug up your geysering entrance snugly full with two of his fattened digits.
You’re clutching helplessly onto Choso’s thick yukata sleeve when the elders stare over at you curiously, “I-I’m fine, Ch- my husband. Just a few post-wedding jitters.”
“Awww, that’s alright.” He’s cooing from above you, words sugarcoated with such gentleness - but his hands were anything but. “M’here, m’here.” Setting out a vicious, ceaseless pace that has his manly fingers outlining numerous circles round n’ round your tight, flooding entrance. Motioning in slight, sleazy swirls all around your elastic hole just to fit inside properly. “Your dear Choso’s here, y’know? And I’ll take such good care of you.”
“Ah! Of course-” Ring out the replies, evidently your hurried-out shudders were not enough for your guests to lose interest. Or for Choso, either - because he’s just feeding your slobbering orifice with more fat inches upon grinding inches. “-producing an heir is a very integral part of the marriage contract. It’s understandable to be nervous.”
Shivering, “S-sure.”
“Mhm—” Choso’s trawling his pouted mouth down your perspiration-simmered temple, “-a very integral part. But, of course, we’ve got to make sure that my beloved wife is-” Quirking the very edge of his digits to clash right into the target of your g-spot. “-ready, after all.”
The clingy embrace of your warm cunt so cozy that it’s bumping Choso’s metallic ring further and further from his hilled knuckles to dredge out a chilling, languid massage along your channel.
It takes everything in you to manage up a half-heartedly narrowed glare up at your chatting husband, easily conversing his way through every battering ram being placed on your pretty pussy.
He doesn’t make a sign - he doesn’t even make a noise. Nothing except for a sharp, sudden inhale once another innocent peck at your lips makes your filthy hole fountain out a fresh lather of sickly sweet juices.
Dripping all the way down to his wrist with thickly viscous adhesive, he’s making such a fucking mess. And a loud one, too.
Slurp after slurp being wrenched out with every pound of his neatly cut nails patterning out little indents onto your most favorite spots - ones that have your legs shaking underneath the humid table. Choso’s bouncing his knee to drum out a staccato against the floor, just to cover up your cute little melody.
He has you going insane.
You’re pushing apart your legs to dig into either side of your chair with just how desperate you were for him. For more more more.
Bumping your thigh against one of his, and the mere touch is enough to send shockwaves down Choso’s sloped body.
“Trying to tease me, baby?” He’s hovering over you even closer, darting out a hefty thud! of two fingertips- no, three - when did he even bully in another one - onto the goopy roof of your cunt.
“M’not-” You’re biting out, head lolling ever-so-slightly backwards when Choso furrows his brows and pumps out copious thrusts that hit your forbidden g-spot dead on. Engulfed so deeply inside your hot core that the gentle curves of his palm smudge against your clit now. “J-just keep- talking.”
And, truly, it wasn’t just because your company was peering over the two of you expectantly - it was because Choso sounded so very hot.
Vibrato husky with an animalistic sort of need, tremoring ever-so-slightly-
“Agreed, I would like a few sons and daughters.” Choso’s nodding along smoothly, although his full attention is focused on you. His wife. And the way your sweltering hot gummy walls clench around his bludgeoning fingers even tighter at the words. Faster. “Maybe three. Maybe five. Although, it’s up to the madam.”
In the corner of your eye, you’re catching them all staring at you, and you urgently force out a nod.
“C’mon now, answer them using your words like a big girl, why don’t you–?” He’s humming, tilting your burning face up. Faster. So that you can’t hide.
Lilting shrill just as unbalanced as your head was, “Y-yes-”
But of course, that wasn’t enough - that would never be enough. “Louder. They can’t hear you over the music, baby.”
Can’t do anything but claw down drawings of red, red lines all across Choso’s milky arms when he bustles into the targets of your honeyed spots even harder. Unsteady syllables spilling out from your lip before you can even register them, “Yes- yes. As…many as possible.”
“That’s it- good girl.”
Fuck.
And those raked scratches make perfect artwork for him to admire - just as he was admiring you right now.
It was just such a shame that the others here were, too, even if they didn’t know the complete and utter sin happening just underneath the table cloth. Sloppier.
Choso’s kissing his teeth, broad deltoids of his shoulder positioning to hide you away from any sleazy gazes. Because they could be near, but they couldn’t see. You were his.
“Then, it’s settled-” He’s drawling, hooded eyes locked onto you. Memorizing your every minute twitch and reaction when he urges his free hand to hold onto yours on your lap. Or, at least, that’s what it looked like to the outside. In fact, Choso’s snugly prying apart your silken robes to roll over your throbbing clit and pinch. “-we can look forward to an heir, soon. Right, madam?”
And that’s all it takes for you to cum.
Your head tucking into his sculptured shoulder, thighs closing with a dull clap! as your high crashes into you headfirst. You don’t need to mutter a single sentence for Choso to know.
For his eyes to widen just a fraction at the way your treacly slit only got infinitely dewier, rounded gumdrops of your slick sprinkling down in a weepy sheen all over his messy hands. Mouth going parched at the realization that you’re orgasming right here, right now.
“O-oh? Seems my wife agrees.” Choso’s waving those elders away now, not taking his eyes off of you for a single second. It was just too adorable how you were shaking like a leaf at his side, “Well, m’glad. So- so…glad.”
Motioning your hips in such salacious semi-circles to bump up his upright fingers against your every extra sweet orifice.
Your sticky walls were so staggeringly tightly wrapped around him that it’s making his forehead bead with sweat, low puffs of air escaping with every peak he fucks you through. Every peak of white-hot pleasure that he draaags out until your guests are finally - finally - walking back to their own tables.
“Sh-shit-” you’re mewling when Choso barely hesitates - barely even takes a quick sweep around the room to check who might be looking - before parting from your sappy cunt with a resounding squelch!
Immediately popping those viscously-glazed fingerpads into his starved mouth, he’s letting his glassy eyes sprint to the back of his head. Musing out a moan, “Fuck- fuck!”
You can only watch with an awed gape whilst Choso stares right into your heart-shaped pupils as he cleans himself off. One by one. Before trekking his lustrous fingers back over to your cunt, and measuring out a wide few inches - perhaps nine - from the base of your teary entrance up to your tummy.
“Choso…” you’re whispering, hazy eyes blinking up at him as if through molasses. “Wha’s that for?”
And Choso only grins, stray range of knuckles thoroughly bitten underneath his gleaming canines while he measures you up.
As if he was holding back. Keeping himself sane. And the half-lided greed in Choso’s eyes told you that he’d fuck you all proper right here and right now if he could. “N-nothing- just making sure of somethin’, my wife. Making sure that you can take me.”
Oh.
This was far from over. You were fucked.
And you were completely and utterly sure of it even if the topic of an…heir didn’t come up for the next few days after that.
Not that you didn’t think about it, though - it was hard not to, when your fatally notorious husband showed such a tender side of himself with his younger brothers.
With you.
And soon enough even through all the bustling meetings and duties of a madam, you’re still figuring out a way to tell Choso that you really weren’t kidding about what you said during that wedding reception.
Sure, you were drunk on his fingers but - that wasn’t just all, was it?
But you’d sorely underestimated just how busy a clan leader could get. And before you knew it, putting off the conversation for the morning after your wedding night had turned into putting it off for the weekend.
Then putting it off for next week. Two weeks.
All the way until you’re trudging along the winding corridors of the Kamo Estate during the most unholy hours of the night. Grumbling groggily to yourself about how you’d finally told him and it had ended supremely well - in a dream, that is.
Choso had been absent for almost the entire day today, attending an important land negotiation with a far-off clan, according to Jin.
Now, you knew just how powerful your husband was - it was impossible to escape the legends and rumors, in fact - and you trusted him. Still, you couldn’t help but toss and turn the entire night away in your coldly empty bed as you wondered just how safe he would get home.
You’d been to such veiled conferences before, after all.
And it’s simply pure worry that has you dragging yourself out of your king-sized bed to shuffle into the barely-lit kitchen. Stifling half-blindly in the moonlight through cabinets and coolers to find ah! Exactly what you’ve been looking for.
Thank goodness this place was empty right now, you didn’t know if you could handle it if the chef was here to lecture you about balanced diets when you’re bites deep into your sugary, shaved icing.
And it’s exactly with this thought in mind that you hear a loud thud! emanating from the far end of the hallway. Your eyes widen, ears searching for more-
Footsteps.
At this time? Your fingers itch towards the sparkling display of knives tucked in one corner of the granite counter. Ready to aim for that tall approaching shadow, ready to fling just as Choso had taught you when-
“Baby?”
“Oh–” Your breath comes out in a heavy gust of relief, eyes unable to tear away from the shaded outline of your husband, taking up every inch of the doorway. “It’s just you, Cho.”
It was. But there was something about Choso that seemed…different. Off.
But not in a bad way - your eyes rover appreciatively over the tautly flexed muscles of his upper half, peeking out almost-blasphemously where he’d shrugged the upper half of his deep purple yukata off.
Glinting bow and arrow stained with crimson, held in one tightly-gripped hand. Your nose wrinkles at the slight, dangerous scent of something metallic. Something not his.
Yet, you can’t help but ogle the slow path of dewdropped sweat trailing down between the curvaceous bulge of his heaving pecs, bumping up and down over his washboard abs, before disappearing below-
It’s like you’re being bolted with an instant flash of lightning as soon as this happens, snapping your eyes over to find Choso’s weighty ones. And oh- the moment you do it’s like something in him melts.
THUD!
You’re jumping when his weapons hit the floor - uncaring of whether this might alert anyone else in the household, uncaring of anything other than crossing the sizzling distance between the two of you in three urgent strides.
You don’t even have the time to process it before Choso halts right before you and falls to his knees. Dark lashes fluttering up at you, he echoes, “Baby.”
Like a broken little mantra.
“Ch-Choso- baby-” It’s just about the only thing you can manage out through hollowed gasps when he’s immediately digging two hands on either side of your hips to easily and pliably seat you on the icy counter. Just where he wanted. “-what’s gotten into you?”
“Dunno.” He’s garbling out, and you’re letting your boneless legs tumble further and further open to let him bury his face right at his favorite place - into your fluttering cunt. “Was jus’ thinking about you alllll day.”
And you could tell.
Because Choso’s every movement was depraved. Jerky. His sensory fingertips trembling when they card underneath your cottony sleep garments, bringing it up to his canines to rip–!
All with his mouth.
“Fuh-fuck-” You’re squealing at the sudden hit of cold air - followed very closely by a scorching hot breeze overtaking every inch of your cunt when Choso leans in and sniffs. Long, hard. Curdling out a feral keen at the back of his throat, “-that’s so filthy, baby.”
“Nothing’s filthy for me if s’you, madam.” At the glint of something slobbering and sharp, you can tell that he’s grinning. “If s’you or…her.”
He was enamored with your ready core, curving a gentle thumb down the glossy edges to give your driveling hole a good trickle of spittle.
And Choso Kamo knew he had perfect aim - he knew he didn’t have to make a mess.
But oh, he couldn’t keep himself from tilting his head just degrees to the side to let the splatters leave dripping wet splotches down your saturated folds, your inner thighs.
Tongue so long, lolling out drunkenly to smear away that filthy excess. He’s poking heated ounces again and again back into your soppy entrance. You were practically flooding torrents of sweet, sweet juices around him, already making a mess that lacquers his dimpled chin.
You were always so sweet - so good for him. And he can feel his ears pop already with the greedy anticipation of what he was craving to do.
“Think you missed me, too.” He’s snickering, teeth sinking down onto the fleshy nub of your clit. It’s enough to make you want to sob. “Didn’t ya?”
Gyrating your hips in such hypnotizing little swivels off of the smooth counter, you’re feeling his candied breaths hit your gummy walls even deeper. Sloppier. Whimpering out, “Yes- yes. Missed you so badly, Cho–”
“Oh yeah?” He’s tensing up the dexterous edge of his tongue to swipe up unhurried skids of his roughened tastebuds around and around your quivering entrance. In and out. Syrupy slick leaking in heaps right as he does, Choso tilts his head back to let those gooey masses slide down his throat. “Mmm— you’re wetter than usual, baby. How badly do you want the ngh- clan leader on his knees for you, hm?”
It was true - and Choso can feel something coiling and coiling heatedly at the base of his stomach at the idea of giving you perhaps…a kid…or two to make sure you’re not so lonely anymore.
Ah, he was pussydrunk.
“So- too badly.” You don’t think you’d ever be babbling away like this if Choso wasn’t making out with your needy cunt like that.
You’re tangling your fingers hastily into his dark, silken locks - gripping desperately onto his sweat-dampened scalp as you use up all your strength and push. All the way until the very tip of Choso’s button nose was meeting your pulsing clit in a harsh smooch, his chin smacking the teary ends of your cunt.
Words tremoring against the very outer ring of your puffy pussy, silvery strings of saliva n’ sap break off when Choso mutters, “Was talkin’ to her, y’know?”
Fuck.
And you think you would be huffing and puffing about how he was talking with your dousingly wet cunt instead of you.
That is, if you weren’t talking back to him from between your legs.
Because the only thing louder than the slack-jawed ah! ah! ah! leaving your lips with every repeated thrust of Choso’s tongue, was the sound of your soppy squelches. “Ohhh- so that’s how your day was? Tell me more…”
So loud - so embarrassing that you can feel your heart race.
And Choso’s was, too, but for a much more lecherous reason as his tongue clashes even harder to draw out those very same pretty noises from you. He was craning his ears closer - he was addicted.
“Yeah- yeah, tha’s right.” Choso’s groaning, eyes faltering droopily until they were almost shut at the way his husking growls only make you wetter. Well, he could help with that. Hitting your hot core with wad after weighty wad of even more sugary spit. “Thaaaat’s fuckin’ right, missed how mouthy you hah- are. My talkative girl.”
“Cho- ngh!” You’re biting down on your tongue to hold back your words when Choso raises up a hand to leave a solid spank right on your bloated pussymound.
He’s nodding along, head lurching intoxicatedly ever closer and closer. Wiping away a glistening streak of slick painted over his blushing cheeks - his blushing cheeks. “That’s right- would’ve made a- haaaah- a whole lotta b-better points than that stupid council does.”
Before pecking a lingering French kiss on your throbbing clit like a lover would.
And you count one, two, three- partway through four before Choso seems to remember that he’s still in the middle of his conversation with your cute cunt. It’s rude to leave her hanging, he’s pondering.
“Well-” Stringing himself away with such a pained grunt, cerise lower lip plumping out in a pout at the mere thought of being away from you. “-better points than that stupid council d-did. They won’t be making aaaaany comments ‘bout you anymore, madam.”
Your leaden eyelids struggle to flitter open, “Wh-what do you ngh- mean, baby?”
But the only response you get is a quick staccato of swats at your leaky slit, before Choso’s curling in a thick thumb past your watering lips and in to your slicked entrance. Followed by the delicious drag of his lengthy tongue doubly slipping back inside.
Thrust after thrust.
So extensive that he was skimming across all your ridges, mapping out every sweet spot of yours on his mouth. Your adhesive walls were clinging onto him like a vice, sappy mushes making him pry apart your thighs even more through furrowed brows.
“Jus’- just means-” He can’t even bear to speak. To break off from stretching you staggeringly open. Your legs wrap mindlessly around Choso’s ravenous head, “-means I don’t let anyone- hah- say anythin’ about my wife.”
Without a second thought, your eyes find his splayed-out arrows on the floor. The way they were sullied with red…
Oh.
But you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything other than let your head jerk backwards, muffing out slight whimpers when he alternates in such sloppy measures between swirling the fattened expanse of his tongue all over every possible spot of your gummy walls and sucking on your clit like his favorite candy.
“They won’t say- do- anythin’—” In so deep now that all you could make out were numerous wet gurgles. And the pure, unadulterated love in Choso’s tone when he twists his thumb to graze right against your bruised and battered g-spot. Hard. “Not when I love her so much.”
He’s gonna raise your kids to love you just as damn much.
And when you cum, you think you might be sobbing - you’re shaking.
Flurries of stars bursting behind your eyes as you dig your fingers through your husband’s perspired strands. Keening out, “Fuck- m’cumming- m’cumming–”
“I know I know.” He smirks hotly against your puffy pussy lips, so close that you could feel the cratered dimple of his grin. “Yer cute cunt told me, baby– heh- wouldn’t mind being welcomed ah- home by my wife like this every day.”
He lets himself be manhandled, pulled and pushed to your every whim. One of the strongest clan leaders whimpering - whimpering - when you pull just a bit too hard to mash his cushiony mouth in a deeper kiss.
Hot. Sappy.
You’re still shaking with sparking bouts of heat that rush down and up your spine, legs twitching when Choso pulls away with a loudly kissed mwah! Overly exaggerated just to see that shy, fucked-out expression on your face.
He was so unfairly pretty like this - a delicate red blush burning all over his face, eyes half-lidded like he was feverish. A shimmery spray of your juiced slick drips down his chin, his bruised lips, all the way up to his regal cheekbones.
He made a mess. And he was wearing it like a badge of honor.
Rising up, up, up to shutter your ajar jaw and plant a drenching kiss. Choso always left your mind so melty and stupid no matter what he did.
“Do you…do you want some hngh- sh-shaved ice?” You’re babbling with your cottony tongue, unsure of what exactly to say after something as intense as…that.
“Nah-” One kiss. Another Two. Five. “-I jus’ had something a whooole lot sweeter, madam.”
Right now it was so quiet in your kitchen. Just you, Choso, and the gleaming moonlight illuminating his pussydrunken enchantment. Even more so than usual.
You’re glissading your arms around his sweat-matted neck, reeling him in even closer. He smells so good, piney cologne searing your senses even despite that tint of iron. Nervously musing, “Hmmm, wonder if s’always gonna be like hah- this whenever I get…cravings.”
Well- it wasn’t exactly what you wanted to say, but, better than nothing.
“Cravings, huh?” Choso’s eyes twinkle - and you’re not sure if that’s a result of the muted lighting or because of what you just said. Hopefully the latter.
“Well- well just saying I wouldn’t mind if-”
Cutting yourself off, you’re sure it’s the latter when he rests a massive palm, warm against your tummy. Just for a split-second before tucking his big, strong arms underneath your body and propping you in an easy princess carry. “If you have cravings then I’d be the one cooking for ya, my wife. 24/7, at your feet.”
Yeah, you were fucked.
But you never really realized just how much - just how badly - until just a few days later; seated on the polished hardwood floor of the famed Kamo archery dojo.
It was routine for your husband to practice his pinpoint precise shooting, and by now it was your routine to watch him.
How could you not? Because it was such a heavenly sight.
Choso’s pristine, white yukata unravelled at one muscular shoulder; showing off the rippling curves and dips of his sculptured back. Strong. His honed eyes filmed with a focus he only ever gets in bed. Adonis-like biceps bulging in a lecherous little flex when he draws the string back, back, back and lets go-
“YES!” Yuji’s resounding cheer thunders across the vast chamber with way too much volume than a six-year-old should possibly have. “Let’s goooo- big bwother hit the target again.”
A simpering smile stretches across your lips as soon as he turns to you for reassurance, gesturing out a slow nod at the way Choso keeps piercing bullseye after bullseye. “He did, your brother is very talented, Yuji.”
Humming, “When I grow up m’gonna be just like him.”
“Of course.” You’re chuckling at his enthusiasm - the youngest of your husband’s brother’s always did have a special spot in your heart. And you can’t help but wonder when - if - you had an heir with Choso, whether they would be much the same. “You are his brother, after all.”
You’re frantically hovering your hands behind him once he bustles to a haphazard stand. Stumbling only a few times as he races over to the neat line of inventory, “Then- I’ll be just like him now.”
“Be careful!”
Ah, he really was a handful - which meant, you really didn’t expect it to go over perfectly smoothly. You’d known that simply wouldn’t have been possible as soon as you met Itadori Yuji.
Yet, you didn’t expect everything to go so wrong in just a mere matter of seconds.
Before you can even blink, Yuji’d tottered his way over to one particularly large, wooden bow - one used only by Ryomen Sukuna whenever he visited. Puffing out his chest as he reeled out the massively heavy weapon - overly heavy, way too much for even the most determined child-
CRASH!
“Yuji!” You don’t know who yelps louder - you, or Choso. But with your proximity, you’re the one that reaches him first, cradling the sniffling boy in your arms.
You jostle away the weighty bow - honestly, how he even managed to lift this in the first place you have no idea.
“Awww, don’t cry don’t cry–” You’re cooing, distantly registering the worried pants of his older brother skidding to a stop beside you. He always did have him curled around his little finger. Pushing away the pinkish curls from his forehead, “-you’re alright. See? You’re alright.”
“Are you hurt? Are you dizzy? Are you feeling nauseous-”
“Choso.” You warn, catching the way Yuji’s eyes widen in panic.
Taking a few deeply necessary breaths to calm down. “You- don’t do that-” Choso’s hissing, but you could practically feel the worry seeping into his tone. Thumbing slow circles on his aching shoulders, “-ask me for a bow instead.”
You have to bite back a grin - with the watery glaze taking over his eyes, you wondered who was really hurt - Yuji or Choso himself.
“M’sorry big bwother.” Blubbering through big, pearly tears that dry salty streaks down his chubby cheeks. He’s batting those lashes in a way you’re sure gets him out of any sort of trouble. Ever. The full, merciless force of it hits your poor heart as Yuji turns to you. “Sorry, mama.”
Mama.
Mama.
You freeze. Choso freezes.
Hell, even the twittering birds outside freeze mid-song.
It seems like everyone in the entire world freezes except for an oblivious Yuji who only continues inching his tiny hands closer towards that guilty bow. Clearly not having learned his lesson - but you didn’t even register that right now.
You’re staring at Choso, only to find that he’s staring right back. Droopy eyes uncharacteristically wide, blinking rapidly - it didn’t even look like he was breathing right now.
Maw parting and closing stupidly agape, and you’re almost tempted to reach out and check whether he’s doing okay - before he finally finds his voice again. Finally. Husking out a choked-out, “W-well- maybe we should- ah- should-” He’s turning towards his contrastingly okay younger brother, “Yuji?”
“Big bwother!” Comes the, unfortunately, helpless answer.
And something in his beaming expression seems to jolt Choso out of his reverie, something that makes him let out a tight nod. Scooping up the giggling boy over his shoulder, he calls out at you, “Wait here.”
As Choso walks out of the doorway, you could only watch.
Only sit there for what could be four seconds - or maybe even four hundred years - until he’d presumably dropped off Yuji at the safety of Jin. Taking steady, focused strides back to you that thud! thud! thud! right along to the beat of your racing heart.
Choso’s expression is blank - pale as if he’s seen a fucking ghost. And he doesn’t even look at you, can’t even bear to once he walks back to the thickened air of the dojo. Now pointedly alone.
Very, very alone.
Wordlessly, he picks up his famed bow. And you swear that you can see his practiced hands tremble. Something was happening.
It’s like an artwork that you can’t look away from. The fluid motion of aligning a singular arrow to aim for his final, rounded target. Doughy pads of his fingers pinching the string back, back, back until it snaps!
And misses. For the first time in years.
“Fuck.”
You barely have the time to compute - to even suck in a gasp of surprise before your husband comes and crashes into you. It’s as if he was magnetized and couldn’t get away even if he wanted to.
It’s a frenzy of white billowing sleeves and powerful arms, throwing you over Choso’s shoulder in only two seconds flat - much the same way that he’d done with Yuji moments prior.
Except more…urgent.
“Choso- Cho!” You’re squealing, as he lurches into hurried treads away. Legs kicking weakly in the air, only for your stubborn self to be granted with an unapologetic spank! right on the mound of your ass. Your nose crinkles as his long, inky locks tickle your face, “What is-”
“Be quiet.” Choso’s rasping, so small that it could not have been more than a whisper. So close that you’re drinking in heady wafts of his masculine cologne.
Something in his snarling tone makes your stomach tighten. Digits grappling precariously onto the toned curves of his shoulders, your fingertips slide down the sweltering expanse of his exposed skin.
And only too late do you recognize the familiar pathway towards your shared bed chamber- oh.
So that was what it was.
And judging by the dark, primal look swimming in the clan leader’s eyes you could only hope that you made it out alive-
SLAM!
You don’t know what’s forcing you more out of your excited little reverie - the shuddered slam! of your mahogany double doors, so hard that it makes the golden hinges shake, or the way you’re thrown haphazardly on the bed.
Like some glorified toy. One of Choso’s favorites.
You’re throwing your arms over his broad shoulders as you fall, lugging him in even closer with each springy bounce on the bedcoils.
But closer wasn’t close enough for your husband - he’s bullying into every ounce of your personal space, caging you in between two splayed-out palms on either side of your thoroughly spinning head.
“Mama, is it?” Choso starts out. Slow. Thick. Like he was approaching a cornered prey. “Baby, I want…I want it.”
You’re blinking up at him through eager eyes, “Want what, Cho?”
“I want an heir. I want to make you…” He gulps. The circles of his fingertips were so warm on your skin, trailing down lovingly all across your cheek. Your collarbones, your heaving tits - down to where you predictably flinched as he palmed your tummy. “-a pretty momma.”
Fawny strands of chestnut brown curtain his gaze, but you could tell just how serious he was. Just how greedy. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Choso like this in his entire life.
All you can breathe out is a crackling, “Yes.”
You said it. You finally said it after all these weeks.
And it’s the only thing you hear before your yukata is all but torn off of you, Choso doesn’t even realize when he’s doing so. It’s melting away like butter underneath his strength, mere obstacles to where the real prize is - your gorgeous, shivering body.
Pebbles of goosebumps rise onto the surface of your flesh when he throws away those useless pieces of fabrics onto the tatami floor - you can have more newly tailored anyway. Many, many more with just how round and full you’re about to be very soon.
He’d take care of it for you.
“Oh, madam- madam.” He’s spitting into your unfastened mouth, low growls sounding out across each four corners of your room. Held hostage by the arousal in your eyes, he can’t stop staring. “M’gonna ruin you.”
And Choso is feral like never before.
Usually one to take his time during sex, finetuning you into it like a sultry waltz. His favorite hobby was to drive you mindlessly wild before he even thought of stuffing you full. But now…
Still not breaking his dreamy eye contact with you, Choso hooks a rapidfire finger over the cute bow-tied hem of your panties. Slurring down an oozing little snail trail of slick that laminates your jittery thighs with evidence of just how badly you wanted him.
You feel the blistering pant of his mindless oh! fanning your features, leaning backwards with a loosened maw to admire just how glistening you are in this lighting.
How ready.
With a low, fucked-up whimper breaking at the back of his throat, he rubs over the bloated curvature of your needy pussy. Slipping ever-so-slightly at the saturated puddles leaking out, Choso has no hesitation or shame when he tugs his fingerpads into his mouth once.
Twice. Thrice.
Dipping back down for more and more and more-
“Can’t-” He’s guttering out, eyes crinkling and- fuck, were those tears? “I c-”
You reach your hand up to smear away his hot rivulets of salt, and Choso stops his prattling like a broken record forced to a halt. He jolts as if your touch has just sent a zillion shocks of voltage down his spine, all the trekking trailway down to his furious, aching cock.
Unsteady hands flinging apart his snowy robes - barely even bothering to remove them and wrench down his undergarments before you see it. You finally understand why Choso was so…restless.
Because he’s never been harder.
Fuck being furious, his bawling cock was seething. Equally as red as the ripest of strawberries, the split-ended crown of his cockhead was just as plumply swollen. All proud inches nestled underneath his painfully-clenching breeder balls, ballooned and lush. Only the barest of your gaze is enough to make Choso’s lustrous tip twitch, laminating himself with a freshly dripping glaze of translucent pre.
Though, it’s not like you were doing any better.
Your gluey lips pucker and pout up at him once he’s wrangling your legs into a boneless hold. The feeling of his palms underneath your thighs are so soft - even despite his battle-hardened calluses. Worshipping.
But the way he’s resting your legs on his shoulders, and folding you in half like a whining lawnchair is the complete opposite. Mercilessly into a-
“M-mating press-” Choso’s getting out through strangled breaths, as if the sole words had his poor sanity fraying at the edges. “-mating press- a- a-” Something he’s never tried out before. His head dips down, pearls of sweat simmering across his trembly upper lip as soon as your sticky folds leave a wet snog on his fattened mushroomy tip. Topping it with a generous heap of honeyed sap, “Well, hello there, baby. I have you in a mating press n’ m’gonna…gonna…”
He couldn’t even finish his sentence.
Couldn’t even finish his thought before Choso was doing - body moving miles and miles ahead of his stupidly saccharine-sweet mind.
“F-fuuuuck–” You’re letting off the keenest of whines, the edges of your nails leaving neat crescents all over his toned back. It was the perfect little present for the way he had you so split open.
And he was barely even pushing past the tip.
“Oh. Oh.” Choso’s grunts are throaty, as if they weren’t coming from the man himself but somewhere murked and dark inside him. And the same went for his feverish thrusts - tight, rigid little pushes past your slicked-up hole just to fit inside. He’s spitting into your slacked mouth, “C’mon- c’mon c’mon–”
Usually, it takes so long to prepare you to take his nine- no, ten inches. But currently, fast just wasn’t fast enough.
There’s a thundering slam! abovehead - only hours and hours later do you have enough brainpower to realize that it was Choso striking his palm down on the headboard - and it makes your clingy walls grip onto the battering mountain of his dewy head.
Squeezing in a repeatedly adhesive-like tempo, Choso’s nose crinkles at the rubbery resistance of your snug hole. Still molding to the slightest curves and ridges of his drowned slit with every desperate rut-
“Please- take it- fucking take it.” His voice was trembling on the edge of a crack, thickened exactly the way one does when he’s about to cry. “H-how can I fuck! How can I breed ya…if I don’t-”
And you’re swearing you see his ruddied cheeks glisten with a few slipped-off tears - though, that just might be from the way that your own vision mists over when his stray hand plugs up your spilling entrance to pry two thickened, scissoring digits inside and stretch. “Fucking- take that big fuckin’- cock-”
Bullying in a few more long n’ girthy inches- You’re so full that it feels like Choso’s pushing his bloated crownhead against the spongy edges of your lungs.
The bed dips and moans with frequent soft creaks! when he plants his curved knees firmly further apart. Flexibly so. And you’re getting a good, greedy eyeful of his pale, bulky thighs - angling at the perfect bend to snap his slender hips and jackhammer-
“Sh-shit-” Your head sinks into the cushiony pillows underneath you, and it already feels like you’re in heaven. “-don’t- don’t know if it’ll fit, Cho–”
With a bitten lip, Choso rovers down his sturdy hand from the surface of the bedframe to measure out ten solid inches. Bringing it down much the same way he did during your wedding reception, “Y-you can, baby–”
“But-”
“You will.” He’s gasping, gracing you with a soft brush of his curvaceous mushroomed head along one of your utmost favorite hidden sweet spots. It’s enough to make you buck. “Gonna take my cock, n’ you’re gonna haaah- take my seed ‘ntil you’re bloated. So I’ll make it fit- fuck- watch, I’ll make it fit.” Before you know it, that very same hand finds itself crowning your head, threatening to push you down- “C-can you say hngh- ‘biiiig stretch’ f’me?”
You’re hiccuping out, “B-big stretch?”
“Nuh uh-” By the time that Choso shakes his head, you’re being sprinkled with loose flecks of his sweat. He was in so deep now. “Say it with me- b-biiig stretch, baby–”
“B-biiig- stretch!” It takes you everything in your body to hold your own against the vicious pounds being planted and struggled into your goopy depths. Choso was determined. Frenzied.
And god, the way you’re dumbly parroting his words is so hot. He can’t help but dollop out muggy icings of pre that slosh and swab at every nook and cranny inside you.
“Good girl.” Rewarding you with a slow heart being patterned right on the throbbing peak of your clit, the roughened edges of his fingertips rub you just right. Not too hard. Not too soft. Your husband nuzzles his flushed head into the havened crook of your clammy neck, “S-say it again, madam.”
“Biiig-”
Honestly, it’s a wonder you manage to get exactly two syllables out at all. Because soon enough, Choso’s taking your distracted few seconds to lace his fingers onto your scalp push. To bump his hips back until your geysering cunt was struggling around his fat, bulbous tip.
Before stuffing you full all the way in-
“Fuck- no.” Choso’s spitting out venomously against your thrumming pulse, sharp fringes of his teeth digging in animalistically. Bottomed out but still pushing and pushing- Slamming a lazy stripe of luscious precum down your spongy cervix, “No- no no–”
No sooner are you full of all his massive, rummaging length, he’s making you take even more. This time in the form of dribbling, ribbony volumes of cum that leak and leak and won’t stop from his heated divot.
It’s ballooning up your tight channel even more. Swashing around and sticking to your gummy walls like a treacly lacquer. Filling you to your very brim-
“S-so much.” You’re gaping, through tear-strung lashes. The shivering edges of your fingers subconsciously dance downwards to splotch over the puddling globs of seed tricking from either side of your sloppy slit. Squeezing out even more to coat Choso’s bulky base with creamy rings upon rings.
And, usually, your husband might be just a bit embarrassed. Usually, he would have pulled out to make out with your pretty pussy until your scores were more than tied.
But that wasn’t your husband right now.
“Don’t.” Choso clicks his drunkenly heavy tongue, lips pulling back into what almost looks like an oh-so-feral snarl. And you have to admit that it looks so sexy on him. He’s rudely swatting away your curious hand, “Move that fucking hand n’ let me see.”
It takes only a split-second for both your hands to be pinned underneath one of Choso Kamo’s.
“Tha’s not enough to take.”
And only one more split-second for him to flip you over onto your tummy and stuff your head into the cushy pillows.
He’s fucking you like he’s using you. Like he’s pumping his mushy, swollen head to nudge in the weighty heft of his cum deeper and deeper and deeper-
“Y’know I hate hngh- disrespectin’ my wife, baby–” He leans over to sigh against your ear in craving hisses, pinning you with his body. His muscles. You could count each n’ every one of Choso’s bulging abs, glissading damply against your perfectly arched spine. Bubblegum pink nipples pressed roughly into your scorching skin, “Hate it- but…”
You gasp at Choso’s audacity next - at the way it makes you so traitorously soaked when he hikes up one of his feet to rest upon your head.
Gurgling out a stupid. “Ch-Cho–”
But he didn’t seem to hear you - you didn’t know if he was even managing to breathe at this point. Only letting his devious lips twitch up, up, up into such a satisfied grin. “-but ‘ntil I get my hngh- heh…heir, you’re gonna hafta be my cumdump, madam.”
And if the saturated slurps singing out at a near-deafening tone from your dripping pussy said anything - it was that you loved the idea.
Especially when the changed angle makes his scouring cockhead maze between the most treasured spots of your jelly-like walls to strike numerous, merciless hits dead-set on your g-spot.
Ah, there it was, pipes up that small voice in Choso’s overtaken brain. Jostling your hips back onto his with a sudden spank on the target of your drivelling hole, the stinging pressure makes you bump your tenderest spots again and again into his ruthless batters.
It’s bruising - the proud circumference of his plummy cock against your elastic cervix with every recoiling bounce, the rounded patterns of his balls against the hind of your pretty pussy with each thrust.
If you didn’t think you were being fucked stupid before then you were sure now.
Your velveteen pillowcase dampens with the ever-flooding saliva spilling from your mouth every time Choso rears his aching shaft back to plant rapid, precise strikes where you wanted him the most.
Whimpering at how every ramming dab of his split cockhead leaves leakages of pearly white cum all over the bottom of your pussy. That sultry swirl of his dumped heaps inside of you making your head spin just as dizzily.
You almost don’t notice it when Choso’s drifting both hands to skirt over about halfway down your tummy. Feeling for that bloated, cylindrical outline of him vulgarly messing up your insides, “Gonna be e-even fuller here soon, y’know-” He’s giggling - giggling. Erratically letting his hands slide down to your clit to give the peaked ends just a tiny pinch. “-have you all round. Full. Full-”
He can’t say anything else.
He can’t do anything else - other than watch in purely entranced awe when that makes you cum all over his fucking cock.
So big n’ thick that your claggy walls can barely even squeeze around his throbbing shaft. The thought makes you huff as he rams rigorously through your blinding high - teeth grit, your fingers fist at the pillows and make sure you can clench-
When you do- oh, when you manage to cling your gummy cunt onto his girth as if to suck out his fucking soul, it makes Choso cum, too.
Fatigued hips somehow matching his cadence, your knees shiver on top of the softened mattress stuttering through every dousing mass of cum gliding inside your cute cunt. It was so heavy having his massive torrentials inside of you, spraying the door to your womb with a slippery sheen.
It was maddening.
And maybe it’s been hours - maybe it’s been mere minutes. But all you know is that you’re put through rounds and rounds and more rounds. But he’s still not stopping. Still dredging out the tiniest of hollowing grinds.
Until much, much later Choso’s breath hitches in feverish stutters. It was so steamily hot inside you, only getting more humid by the minute as you ride out yet another crashing high.
“G’na milk e-every ngh- drop-” He titters, fleshy edges of his fingers closing in around where your pussylips were the most buxom. The most leaky. “-n’ you’re gonna ngh- keep it. Keep ‘ntil you give me an h-heir. Remember that, baby– keep it.”
You’re fighting against the weight of his muscular leg on top of you. Was he clamming your pussy shut?
“Choso, baby.” Your straining out, throat drier than the Sahara at this point. Even despite how the hypnotized way your husband looks at you makes your tongue lather with watery saliva. “Want- want more.”
You think you might just have broken Choso Kamo.
Might just have made him reach another surprising high all over again with just your simple request. He’s lifting off the powerfully pressurized foot crowned on your head in favor of lurching downwards to grab your tender throat into a headlock.
Manhandling you as he pleased. Lifting you off of the tattered pillow, the completely splintered bed frame now.
Your chin juts over his thick, bulging biceps, fighting for both air and the space-
“More- more, she says-” He’s chuckling out, words cracking a few octaves higher than normal. From the corner of your eye, you sneak glimpses at the way that Choso’s eyes were wide, crazed. Flashing all sorts of feral promises when he plants one, two, three long thuds against your soppy cervix. “Fucking- m-more.”
You’re letting off a tiny whimper - your orgasm nothing but tingles at this point. Yearning for that the piping hot streak of seed flushed into your already-overspilling cunt. Syruping in with the rest of his numerous goopy volumes, it’s thick and needy.
Only one.
“Sh-shit.” He’s wheezing against your ear, free hand flying down to tug at his reddened base for more more more- one’s not enough. Every possibly wiry wisp and speckle that could fill you up. Could give him an heir. “Can’t cum dry- won’t- oh.”
Rutting into you like Choso won’t stop - didn’t know if he even can stop anymore. You flinch at the suddenly hot splatter! of something warm…and wet at your shoulder.
“Cho- oh!” Not only was the clan leader drooling out glossy spatters of saliva, he was crying. Hugging you even closer, you’re showered in neverending streams of overstimulated tears.
And Choso can only babble away, “Hope- hope s’a daughter, madam.”
A/N. AYYY y’all have been wanting more dom Choso saurrrr- Anyways hope you have a lovely week <3
Plagiarism not authorized.
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Need him.
SQUID GAME | 2x01 | Bread and Lottery
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I can’t keep up with all the socials help, heres some geto doodles hehe ! I will try to keep up with all the platforms I use 😈
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No word, only tears (in my pants)
CHOSO who loves when you wear eyeliner. he hates making you cry— worries him to his core every time he does— but as he’s fucking you right now, tears forming at the brims of your eyes, smearing your makeup every so slightly, he thinks this is the way life’s supposed to be.
CHOSO who brings a finger up to your lashes, wiping away the wet as he continues to go impossibly deeper in you. he brings his thumb down, dragging the liner down your cheeks.
CHOSO who whines at how much of a mess you look. he loses himself in the fact he’s doing this to you. his movements become sloppier, eyes locked on yours and how much bigger and brighter they look right now.
CHOSO who cums making eye contact with you before he drops his head into the crook of your neck, crying too because you just feel too good. “i love you, i love you, i love you.”
CHOSO who grabs you a towel and cotton pads. he cleans you up top to bottom, cleaning any cum from you, and wiping all the excess makeup from your face before he presses a slow kiss to the corner of your temple.
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I NEED CHOSO TO FUCK ME OR IM GONNA LOSE IT

C’MON FUCK ME EMO BOY!
life works in mysterious ways. one minute you're working with the emo boy for a project, exchanging ideas and awkward glances, and the next, he's got his inked hand snaked around your throat, dark eyes filled with lust as he fucks you meanly into his mattress. the room is filled with the sound of your panting breaths and the creaking bed, his grip tightening just enough to make you gasp. choso’s lips curl into a smirk as he watches you, taking in every reaction, every shudder, as he thrusts deeper, making you see stars.
his dark purple nails claw into your flesh as he pulls your hips flush to his, leaving crescent-shaped marks that burn with a delicious sting. his black wolf cut clings to his forehead with perspiration, strands of hair sticking to his flushed skin, framing his intense gaze. the eyeliner smudged around his eyes only makes his dark orbs more piercing, adding to the raw, untamed energy he exudes. he’s full on humping you now, his chest pressed against your back. choso’s lip ring glints in the dim light as he leans down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, his breath hot and ragged against your mouth. every movement is rough, possessive.
he’s the biggest you’ve ever had. and you swear you can feel every ridge of him as he stretches you painfully. sticky lips parting with a soft squelch he time his coaxes himself back into your tight warm hole. “feel me in your stomach baby? m’so fuckin’ hard for you.”
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Lore accurate Jimbo giving Curly his medicine
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Rafayel is for the Ones Who…
This is my first time writing for LnD and Rafayel 🫣 I’m a new player so I hope I don’t misrepresent fishy too much!

Rafayel is for the ones who were forced to grow up too fast, the ones who never had a childhood, for the ones who were neglected and ignored in their youth
Rafayel is for the ones who were always called too childish and told to grow up. You’re allow to be immature around him, he’ll be silly right beside you!
Rafayel is for the ones who fancies duality, for a man who is dramatic and playful but could also be serious and protective
Rafayel is for the ones who’s love language is teasing and flirting, though if you return his flirts he gets super red and flustered
Rafayel is for the ones who wants to reconnect with their inner child
Rafayel is for the ones who wants to a muse, to be his inspiration. To be loved by an artist is to be immortalized, and his every artwork would have a piece of you in it
Rafayel is for the ones who are hopeless romantic, the ones who daydream about all the romances but don’t express. His dates and gifts are all thoughtful, his adoration is clear in his gaze
Rafayel is for the ones who crave gentle yet passionate love. The ones that keeps you warm in the harsh of winter, the ones that heals, the ones that offers strength
Rafayel is for the ones who desire a clingy boyfriend. The ones who pouts when you have to leave in the morning, the ones who kiss you when you get home and the ones who cuddles with you every night
Rafayel is for the ones who want their boyfriend to be their best friend too, the ones you could do everything with, share all gossip to, share all of your day and be there in both good and bad times
Rafayel is for ones who craves to seen, too be loved for who they are. He’ll love you, you are his beloved bride afterall <3
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Actually obsessed with this part... the hungry, lustful look in his eyes... the placement and movement of his hand... the possessive grip on her thigh... the passionate, reverent kisses on her knee and the way the tip of his nose just barely brushes against her skin... the breathless confession... the way he, even while hot, bothered, sweaty, and bricked up as all hell, still asks for her consent. Twice.
What a man, what a lover, what a king, what a husband 🫶
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This is giving me motivation to finish the raf fic before the fandom explodes with caleb 💀



Credit to @/khouxy on insta
EDIT: and the fic is out https://www.tumblr.com/poisonf0rest/772475167619301376/intertidal-zone?source=share !!!
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JERK MY PEENER TO THIS
cw: fem!reader, being called 'mommy' everyone talks about whiny, pathetic bottom!choso, but what about whiny, pathetic top!choso? he's got you in missionary, face buried into your neck as his hips rut into yours repeatedly. he's breathing heavy, small noises leaving his throat that he tries to cover as groans. they're whimpers, you can tell, but you don't say anything. too cockdrunk and slightly overstimulated to tease him for it. your arms are around him and you have one hand in his hair, your legs locked around his waist.
"please... please, you feel so good. need more, c-can..." he breathes out almost as if he's nervous. "can i go harder? pleasepleaseplease?" his voice is so quiet, and you would find it sweet that he asked if he wasn't already fucking you harder. all you can manage is a breathy "mm-hm," before he lifts your legs up and together, resting them over his shoulder just to get a better angle and more stimulation for his aching cock. "mm, you're so... you're so pretty, i love you." he whispers, pressing his cheek against your ankle and looking you in the eyes as his hips rut into yours with desperation that's almost impressive.
the air is thick with sexual tension and sheer need. it smells like sweat and sex, something that clouds choso's head even further. he's fucking you like his life depends on it, his hands on your thighs and kneading the fat there. he can't hold himself back from mumbling your name, peppering sloppy wet kisses throughout your neck and biting at your ear. his touch is overwhelming.
and when he cums? that's when he whines. "n-nh. ngh, fuck-- mm, baby..." he breathes, tilting his head back. he's on his knees now, but still leaning over you. he looks majestic, but the expression on his face is almost pathetic. sweat gathers at his neck and at his hairline, and this is about the fourth time he's came. his need partnered with his stamina is a deadly combo, especially when he's balls-deep and fucking you like his cum isn't dripping out of you and staining the sheets beneath you. his hands are shaky and the muscles in his back flex, and he's even more vocal now. he MIGHT have called you mommy once or twice. and when you ask him about it? "did... did you just call me mommy?" ...he may have came again.
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