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manmuncher777 · 3 days ago

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DREAM CUM TRUE

Choso x reader smut 18+ MDNI

- you have no idea how long your Bestfriend has been pining over you

This is rushed and I low-key hate it but enjoy 💓 has not at all been proofread :)

You didn’t even know his name the first time you bumped into him.

Books slipping from your arms, your shoulder colliding with the solid wall of his chest — and when you stumbled back, flustered, you finally looked up into those dark, heavy-lidded eyes.

Choso almost didn’t move. Just stood there, staring down at you, towering over you like a shadow.

You had smiled at him.

“Sorry! I’m so clumsy,” you had laughed, bending down to scoop up your books without a second thought. “I’m Y/n, by the way.”

And Choso had stared. Barely breathing. Barely alive. You were right in front of him, talking to him, smiling at him like he mattered.

The obsession that had lived like a quiet, gnawing thing inside his chest — the way he’d watched you every day from the back of class, memorized the sound of your voice, the way you twirled your hair when you were bored — all of it exploded into something vicious and immediate.

From that moment on, you were his.

You just didn’t know it yet.

You thought it was just a casual friendship.

Choso was shy, quiet, always hanging around the edges, but you liked him — thought he was sweet, even if a little awkward sometimes.

You didn’t notice how he always seemed to know where you were. How he showed up at the coffee shop you liked on days you hadn’t told him you’d be there. How he’d linger outside your lectures, pretending he’d just been walking by.

You didn’t see how his fingers twitched every time you hugged him goodbye, resisting the urge to grab you, to take you.

You had no idea that when he went home at night, he jerked off to the sound of your voice in his head, fist tight around his cock, hissing your name like a prayer.

He had a box under his bed. Things he stole — little trophies. A hair tie you’d dropped once. A receipt from your lunch left in the trash. Notes you doodled and threw away.

Your scent soaked into his pillows. Into his hoodie sleeves. Into the sheets he never changed.

Choso never planned to hurt you.

He just wanted to be close.

Closer than anyone else. Closer than you could ever run from.

You were already his.

You just didn’t know it yet.

You didn’t even think twice when you invited Choso over for a study date.

He was your friend — your quiet, sweet, weirdly loyal friend who always seemed to show up when you needed him.

And you figured it’d be nice to have company while you worked.

“You want something to drink?” you asked, smiling over your shoulder as you rummaged through the fridge.

Your little shorts rode up as you leaned down, and Choso sat stiff and silent on the couch, fists clenched in his lap, fighting for his fucking life.

“Water’s fine,” he rasped, voice hoarse.

He couldn’t stop staring. Couldn’t stop imagining.

How easy it would be to just take you.

Lift you up onto the counter. Spread you open.

Make you cry his name in that sweet little voice.

You sat down next to him, so close your thighs brushed.

Choso’s breath hitched. You didn’t even notice.

You were just so casual. So comfortable with him. Kicking your legs up onto the coffee table, one foot nudging his knee as you flipped open your laptop.

“Ugh,” you groaned, flopping back against the cushions. “I’m gonna fail this test.”

He wanted to tell you you were perfect. That you didn’t need tests. That he’d take care of you forever if you let him.

Instead he croaked out, “I’ll help you.”

His fingers trembled when he pulled his notebook out of his backpack.

And god, when you leaned in to look over his notes — your soft chest pressing up against his arm, your perfume dizzying in his head — he thought he was going to lose it.

“You’re so smart,” you murmured, tapping your pencil against his page, totally oblivious to how he was staring at you. “I’d be screwed without you, Choso.”

He swallowed so hard it hurt.

You didn’t know.

You didn’t know that every word, every laugh, every brush of your body against his was feeding the sick, snarling thing inside him.

You didn’t know he stayed up at night jerking off to the smell of your shampoo on his hoodie.

You didn’t know that right now, he was biting the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood, just trying not to grab you.

Because you trusted him.

You thought he was safe.

And he would be.

As long as you didn’t tempt him like this.

At some point, you must have fallen asleep.

Head lolling sideways, cheek pressed to Choso’s shoulder, your hand dropping into his lap as your breathing went soft and steady.

And Choso?

Choso sat there frozen, sweat beading at his temple.

Because your fingers — light and warm and completely innocent — were resting right over his cock.

It wasn’t even your fault.

You were just sleeping. You didn’t know.

But your fingers twitched in your sleep, brushing over him, and Choso let out the softest, broken whimper, barely biting it back in time.

He was hard. So hard it hurt.

It was pathetic, he was kicking himself internally.

Getting hard over this? Seriously?

And you were touching him.

The dirty little voice in his head screamed at him —

Grind into her hand. Buck your hips. Use her. She’s right there. She wouldn’t even know.

He squeezed his eyes shut, fists clenched, breathing ragged through his nose.

“Don’t,” he mouthed silently to himself. “Don’t. You can’t. You’ll scare her. You’ll ruin everything.”

He sat there trembling, trying to will his traitorous cock to behave, while your hand kept twitching softly against him.

And then —

“Mmm?”

You stirred, blinking sleepily up at him.

Your fingers flexed against his thigh before you pulled them away with a lazy, sheepish smile.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “God, I didn’t mean to like… knock out on you like that.”

You didn’t even notice his flushed face. His rigid posture.

(Or maybe you did — but you thought it was cute.)

You giggled. “You’re always so sweet, Choso. Letting me drool on you and everything.”

He swallowed thickly.

You had no idea what you were doing to him.

You stretched — arms over your head, shirt riding up just enough to flash a sliver of soft skin — and Choso’s mouth went dry.

His fists balled in his lap, trying desperately not to grab you, shove you back down, press himself against you and grind until he came.

You blinked up at him, tilting your head. “You okay?”

Your voice was all soft concern.

Choso’s voice cracked. “Y-yeah. Just— hot in here.”

“Aw,” you cooed, leaning in again without even thinking.

“You’re all flushed.”

Your hand reached out, brushing his bangs back from his forehead in a sweet, absentminded gesture.

Choso whimpered under his breath.

Your smile only widened.

God, he was adorable when he got all shy.

You had no idea he was two seconds away from breaking.

“You’re so warm,” you murmured dreamily, scooting even closer.

You curled up against his side, hand brushing over his chest. “You’re like a space heater, Choso.”

He flinched.

Because your hand wasn’t just on his chest —

It was dragging down, over his abs, innocent little fingers toying with the hem of his shirt — so close to his cock, it made him ache.

He swallowed hard. “Y-you’re cold?” he mumbled.

“Mhm,” you nodded, completely oblivious to the way his body was trembling. “You’re so comfy though.”

You tugged at his shirt again, laughing. “Lemme get under here. Share the warmth.”

And without even waiting, you crawled onto his lap.

Choso made a choked sound, hands flailing helplessly before they clamped down hard on your hips — trying desperately not to grind up into you.

You settled in, sweet and casual, not noticing the way he was shaking underneath you.

(Or maybe you did — and you just thought he was being shy.)

“You’re always so nice to me, Choso,” you smiled, resting your head against his shoulder again. “Such a good boy.”

He whimpered.

Good boy.

You didn’t realize you were grinding lightly against him, shifting to get comfortable —

Or how your thighs squeezed around his hips, your pretty scent flooding his head, making him dizzy.

You sighed happily. “Mmm, see? You’re my favorite pillow.”

Choso’s cock throbbed against the tight confines of his pants.

So hard it hurt.

Pre already soaking into his boxers, a sticky wet spot spreading over his crotch.

And you — sweet, oblivious you — just kept wriggling on his lap, your soft ass pressing down against his desperate dick.

“S-stop,” he whispered brokenly, voice cracking.

You lifted your head, blinking at him. “Hm?”

Choso looked wrecked.

Eyes glassy. Face flushed dark pink. Breathing ragged.

His hands were digging into your hips, desperate to hold you still — but he didn’t dare move.

“You’re making it hard—”

He bit off the words, cheeks burning, eyes squeezing shut.

You blinked. “Making what hard?”

And then you felt it.

The thick, hot press of him straining against you.

Hard and aching under his pants, twitching where you were sitting right on top of him.

You stared.

“O-oh,” you breathed.

Choso whimpered, burying his face in his hands, mortified.

“Sorry,” he croaked. “Sorry, sorry, I can’t help it, you’re just— you’re s-so pretty and you’re sitting right on— I didn’t mean to—”

You bit your lip.

God, he looked so sweet like this.

So desperate. So fucking pathetic for you.

You shifted in his lap — grinding down just a little — and Choso whined, hips jerking up helplessly.

You smiled.

“Poor baby,” you cooed, voice dripping mock-pity. “You’re so hard, huh?”

He froze for a second, unsure of how to react at first. He was half expecting you to laugh at him, maybe even ask him to leave. But not this. Not the thing he had been dreaming of forever

He nodded frantically, clinging to you like his life depended on it.

“You want some help, Choso?” you whispered, mouth brushing his ear.

He shivered violently, nodding again, pupils blown wide.

“Y-yeah,” he gasped. “Please. I need it. I-I’ll be good. I promise.”

“Good boy,” you murmured again, making him shudder.

You kissed his flushed cheek, your hand sliding down — finally palming the thick bulge in his pants — and Choso moaned, openly now, hips rocking into your touch desperately.

“Gonna be so good for me, right, Choso?”

Your voice was sweet and lilting, teasing him while you stroked him through his clothes.

“Y-yes,” he whimpered. “Anything. Anything you want.”

His head was spinning. His body was burning.

He needed you — he needed you — more than he’d ever needed anything in his entire life.

And you were finally, finally touching him.

Choso couldn’t take it anymore.

Your hand was still teasing over his cock, slow and sweet, acting like you didn’t know exactly how much he was crumbling.

He whined, hips jerking up again, the sound ripping from his throat without shame.

Your pretty lips curved in a knowing smirk — and that was it.

Something in him snapped.

In one desperate move, he grabbed you — strong hands wrapping around your thighs — and flipped you onto your back against the couch.

You gasped, blinking up at him in shock.

“Ch-Choso—”

He was already climbing over you, caging you in with his big body, breathing ragged and heavy, eyes wild and hungry.

“S-sorry,” he stammered — even as he yanked your pants down your thighs, desperate, trembling. “I can’t— I can’t— I’m sorry, I need you, I need it so bad—”

You barely managed to kick your jeans off before his mouth was on you.

Everywhere.

Messy kisses down your thighs, teeth scraping over your skin, tongue licking sloppy and wet up your inner thighs until you were whining underneath him.

“Choso—!” you gasped, fingers flying to his hair.

He latched onto your panties with his teeth — growling low in his throat — and yanked them down, dragging the fabric down your legs in one quick, feral tug.

And then he was staring —

at your slick folds, your sweet little cunt already glistening for him.

Choso moaned — full-bodied, broken — and dove between your thighs.

He was starving.

Mouth latching onto you like he was dying of thirst, tongue flicking frantic, messy, all-consuming —

like he wanted to eat you alive.

“So wet,” he mumbled between licks, voice thick and dazed. “So pretty, so good, you’re perfect—”

You cried out, thighs squeezing around his head, but he just groaned into you, slurping even harder.

You’d never seen someone so genuinely obsessed. He wasn’t even trying to be sexy — he was just desperate, falling apart, drowning in you.

“Please,” he whimpered, rutting against the couch, practically humping the cushions just from the taste of you on his tongue. “Please, lemme fuck you, please, please—”

You nodded frantically, tugging at his hair —

and Choso moved so fast you barely saw him shove his sweats down.

His cock sprang free — thick, flushed, leaking like crazy — so hard it curved toward his stomach.

You eyes going wide as you saw it, thick, red and dripping.

He lined himself up, hands shaking, eyes locked onto you like you were the only thing that had ever mattered.

“Gonna be good,” he panted, rubbing the head through your slick folds, making you both whimper. “Promise, ’m gonna take care of you, please—”

And then he thrust in — deep, one slow desperate push — and you both cried out, bodies jerking together.

He was huge — thick and stretching you open, making you claw at his back, but Choso just whimpered, burying his face in your neck.

“Tight— so tight, baby, fuck—” he babbled. “You feel so good, you’re made for me, made for me—”

He started thrusting —

messy, frantic, pounding into you with wet slaps —

and it was vicious, the way his hips snapped against you, driving his cock in deep every time.

“Holy fuck- Cho-“ you choked out, unable to catch you breath at his ruthless pace. You were able to feel each thick vein down his cock as it throbbed for you, each little grove making itself at home in your dripping cunt

He couldn’t hold back.

He wasn’t even trying to.

You were gasping, squirming, barely able to hang onto him as he fucked you into the couch, each thrust deeper and more desperate than the last.

The stretch was perfect. Moulding you to the shape of him, everything he ever craved.

Pressing himself deeper and deeper with each thrust, as if he never wanted to leave.

Squeal and whimpers leaving you with every kiss his tip left on your cervix, brushing against that perfect spot inside you over and over. As if he was made to reach it. His eyes never leaving your face, watching every expression you made, every breath that left you. Ensuring he was doing anything he could to make you cum.

“Love you,” he moaned brokenly. “Love you so much, been waiting for so long, please, wanna make you cum, wanna feel you cum on me—”

You grabbed his cheeks, forcing him to look at you.

“Choso,” you breathed, “cum with me.”

His hips stuttered.

His whole body seized like he was about to die from how hard it hit him.

“F-fuck—!” he choked, slamming into you one final time as he came, thick ropes spilling deep inside you.

The feeling — the heat, the stretch, the way you clenched around him — it dragged you over the edge with him, clenching tight around his cock, milking him through it.

You both collapsed together, trembling, gasping, bodies glued to each other.

Choso held you close — still inside you, still twitching — and sobbed quietly into your neck.

“Love you,” he whispered again. “Love you so much, ’m sorry, couldn’t help it, you’re mine—

You shushed him gently, stroking his hair, pressing kisses into his temple.

Because God —

how could you ever be mad at someone who loved you this much?

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manmuncher777 · 8 days ago

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suguru wont fuck you.

suguru has his reasons, always playing the damn gentleman, but the both of you know he is holding back because...there’s no condom in sight.

classic sugu, always the cautious one, his mind wired to be careful, to plan every move, to keep things safe and under control.

he’s lecturing you, that soft, almost scolding tone slipping from his lips about how he’s not about to take risks, how he cares too much to be reckless.

but you?

you don’t give a single fuck about his noble principles right now.

your body’s screaming, burning, aching for him, for the heavy, pulsing weight of his cock buried so deep inside you it steals your breath.

you want him, all of him, right now. no excuses, no waiting for some latex barrier when your desire’s this raw.

he just looks at you, with that amused little smile curling his lips, finding your impatience downright adorable.

“you’re trouble, aren’t you?” he murmurs, teasing you with that quiet, unshakable confidence that twists your stomach into knots.

but you’re not here for his smirks or his smooth-talking restraint, you’re practically vibrating with want, thighs pressing together as you try to make him see how much you need him.

you beg, plead, throw yourself at him, anything to crack that cool exterior. and finally.

finally, he gives in, just a little, his resolve wavering under the weight of your desperation and the barely contained hunger in his own eyes.

but suguru, still won’t go all the way, he’s not that easy to break.

instead of giving you what you’re dying for, he leans in close, and lets the thick, throbbing tip of his cock brush against your clit, rubbing slow circles that send electric shocks through every nerve in your body.

it’s torture, but it still has you gasping, hips bucking to chase more of him, but he holds you down keeping you teetering on the edge.

then, he slips a finger inside you, just one at first, curling it slow and deep, stretching you just enough to make you moan but nowhere near enough to satisfy the gnawing, pulsing ache inside.

he watches you, eyes half lidded, that damn smile still tugging at his lips as he works his finger in and out, adding another when you start to whimper.

it’s not enough, not for you, and if you’re honest, not for him either.

you see it in the way his jaw clenches, the way his breath catches every time his cock accidentally slips lower, the slick head nudging just inside your entrance before he catches himself and pulls back with a low, guttural grunt that betrays how much he’s fighting himself.

each time it happens, when he slides just a little too far, you hear that sound, he’s teetering on the brink of losing all that precious control.

“fuck.” he mutters under his breath, as he forces himself to retreat, to keep rubbing against your clit instead, coating himself in your slickness while you squirm and whine for more.

you try to move, to angle your hips just right, to trick him into slipping deeper, but suguru’s too sharp, too quick. he chuckles, and pins your hips to the bed with one strong hand, his fingers still pumping inside you, while his cock teases your clit with maddening precision.

“you’re gonna kill me...” he chuckles as his own arousal gave him away in the way his dick throbs against you, leaking precum that mixes with your wetness, making every glide slicker.

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manmuncher777 · 18 days ago

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Hear me out…birthday sex…STAY WITH ME NOW

Also I freaking love your writing you eat down everytime😭‼️

IM WITH YOU IM WITH YOU

You didnt mention who in specifics, but I felt like Toji was a good fit for this, if you want it with anyone else let me know <3

The lights are dim. The bed is warm. And Toji’s hands are already trailing up your thighs like he’s unwrapping something precious. As if were his birthday instead of yours, and you were the best gift he ever got.

“You think I’d let your birthday go by without spoiling you?” he murmurs, lips ghosting your shoulder as he leans over you. “Nah, baby. Not when you give me so much to be grateful for.” He doesnt even give you a second to catch you breath, every single part of him is on you, making sure no part of your skin goes untouched.

You laugh breathlessly, letting him nudge your legs apart. “You’ve already spoiled me with gifts.”

Eyes widening on awe as you watch the giant of a man drop to his knees in front of you. Your eyes unable to leave him.

He looks up from between your thighs, dark hair tousled, pupils blown wide.

“I am the only gift you need to think about right now,” he smirks — but the cockiness melts quickly into something softer. Deeper. “And tonight? You don’t lift a finger. I’m gonna take care of everything.”

And he does.

He’s slow. So, so slow. You’re already whining by the time his mouth reaches your core — he’s barely even touched you, and you’re already gasping his name.

“Shh,” he coos, fingers spreading you wide, voice impossibly low. “S’posed to feel good, birthday girl. Let me have you. Just relax.”

And then he devours you.

But this time he’s different. When Toji usually devours you, it’s laced with teasing. He’d make you beg for it until tears wellled in your eyes from pleasure, he’d build your orgasms up, before cruelly dashing them away with a simple movement of his hand. But tonight. He was giving you everything and more

Each movement calculated on bringing you the most pleasure, he listened to each noise you made like it was gospel, doing whatever he could to leave you wrecked.

Toji’s tongue is devastating — not fast, not desperate, but intentional. Like he’s tasting something expensive and rare. Like he needs to memorize it. And the sounds he makes? Unholy. He groans like your pussy is divine and he’s starved for worship.

You’re trembling under him. Writhing.

“Toji—!”

“Uh-uh,” he murmurs. “Don’t you dare hold back. You know how much I love watching you fall apart.”

Your orgasm hits like a wave. Hard and hot and wet, and Toji just moans against you, lapping up every drop, humming praises into your skin.

“That’s my good girl. Look at you,” he breathes, kissing his way up your belly, “all messy and perfect. All mine.”

When he finally fucks you — slow, deep, stretching you just right — he cradles your face like you’re fragile.

You’ve never seen him like this.

Focused. Quiet. Worshipping.

“You’ve been so good for me,” he whispers, dragging his cock out so slowly your legs twitch. “All year. Let me be good for you now.”

You nod, too overwhelmed to speak. Your eyes unable could feel every drag of him, the veins, the girth. It was all too much in the best way possible.

“You want more, baby? I’ll give you as much as you want. Over and over again. Until you can’t take it. Until you feel how loved you are.”

And he does. He makes you come again. And again. Kissing your tears, petting your hair, never stopping.

And when it’s over — when you’re shaking and whimpering and clinging to him — he wraps his arms around you, pulling you tight to his chest.

“You always this good on your birthday?” he teases, brushing your sweat-slicked hair back.

“Mmm… only for you.”

“Damn right.”

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jjk x you #toji fushiguro smut #toji x you #toji smut #jujutsu toji #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji zenin #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #toji x reader #toji zenin smut #toji x y/n

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manmuncher777 · 21 days ago

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Nanami was a sweetheart, always finding a way to kiss you during sex. He loved having you in a position where your mouth was easily accessible to he could pepper you with affection, wanting to be as close to you as he could while he breaks you on his cock. To anyone else the gesture would seem so romantic, so based on pure love, and while that wasn’t untrue, Nanami found himself doing it for slightly more.. lustful reasons. The way your soft lips would struggle to meet the pace of his with each thrust into you. The way your mouth was accidentally break away from his as he circled your clit to let out a gasp. And sometimes, when he was hitting that perfect sponges spot inside your dripping walls, you would catch his lip with your teeth, accidentally biting him. Those sort f reactions from you short circuited Nanami’s brain. His filth ridden mind unable to control itself as he rams into you, placing soft kisses on your lips, just to feel you whine and struggle to return the favour

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manmuncher777 · 21 days ago

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I need Toji to throw me around and be mean to me. I’d settle for a punch in the face at this point

#redspeaks #jujutsu toji #toji fushiguro #literally beat me up king please

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manmuncher777 · 21 days ago

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been like this. | g. satoru 𐪆

summary. you’ve known Gojo your whole life: you’ve been friends since childhood! but sometimes, he could be just a little too friendly.

contents. ⭑.ᐟ 3.4k words, modern AU, childhood friends 2 lovers, gojo is lowk a creep, eventual smut [MDNI], mention of blowjóbs, couch séx, oral (f! receiving), hair pulling, fíngering, tít play, clít torture, squirting, missionary, size k��nk, unprotected séx, pwp (this is stupid), friends w/ benefits

⌕ author's note. *taps mic* hey hi is anybody still here...! sorry for being away for so long (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠). ao3 link; animated dividers by @/cafekitsune; title from a doja cat song :P

You’re barely wearing any clothes: just a half-ironed t-shirt without a bra underneath and shorts short enough to be called underwear, when your doorbell rings ten consecutive times in a row.

It was only two in the morning. Like any normal person, you were supposed to be asleep—you had a doctor’s appointment early the next day (err, well, it was already the next day)—but your brain just kept saying One more episode! so there you were, sitting under the kotatsu with red eyes.

And if the person currently outside your apartment was human, they would just assume you were asleep and leave you be. But soon enough, the ringing of your doorbell turned to obnoxious knocking, and then to aggressive banging, before you were forced to get up and slam open the door.

Obviously, cerulean eyes and a smile bright enough to blind were what greeted you right away.

“Satoru.”

“Yo!”

You stepped aside to let him in.

“What are you doing here—no, actually, why are there sunglasses on your head?” You pinched the space between your brows as the white-haired giant of a man toed off his shoes. “Do you know what time it is?”

Gojo shrugged, arm brushing past yours as he walked over to sit on your couch. “It’s fashionable. Gets the ladies.”

“Yeah, sure. Because anyone would settle for a guy who can’t tell the time.”

“See? You get it.”

You rolled your eyes, but still chose to pad over and sit across the couch, bringing your knees to your chest with a sigh.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he half-whines, half-pouts, angling his head towards yours like the freakishly tall buffoon he was.

You raise a brow from across the couch. “Like what?”

“Like I’m some bad guy.”

“You’re saying you’re not a bad guy?”

Gojo laughs in your face, the sound of it echoing throughout your apartment as he scoots closer, closing the unusual distance between you two. “What, do you think I am?”

For some reason, the tip of Gojo’s nose was now only millimeters away from yours, his breath tickling your cheek.

He was close. Too close.

Ridiculously, awfully, extremely, indubitably too close for a man who forced you to let him in at two in the morning lest you wanted him to scream at the top of his lungs and wake up all your neighbors, which would also result in you being banned from bringing guests over for a month (because this was not the first time Gojo had caused trouble in your building).

Your breath hitches in your throat, but you’ve grown accustomed to Gojo’s forwardness throughout the years, so you manage a reply unlike most, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Yes.”

“You think I’m a bad guy?” he repeats, challenging your audacity.

You blink. “Sure.”

Gojo almost laughs again, before placing a cold hand on the top of your knee and dragging the same leg out to situate across his lap. You absentmindedly do the same with the other.

“You gonna tell me why I’m a bad guy?”

“No.”

Gojo pinches your cheek. “Yes, you will.”

“No.”

“Will too.”

“. . . I’m not entertaining you.”

“Will too.”

“Satoru—”

“Yes?” he sing-songs, almost sounding unhinged as he nears your face.

“Cut it out,” you grimace, shoving his face away. “You’re being weird.”

“Aww, now you’re just hurting my feelings.” Gojo grabs both your wrists in one hand, and tugs you forward, forcing you to meet his eyes. “What happened to the sweet you who would cry watching a shitty rom-com and make me hold you in my arms till you fell asleep, hm?”

“‘Toru—!”

“And what about the sweet you who would always come crawling back to my place when one of your trashy, lame excuses for a boyfriend decided to call it quits and you wanted me to comfort you?”

“That’s—”

“And what about the especially sweet you who begged me to teach you how to give a blowjob back during our school days—?”

“Gojo, shut up!” You narrowed your eyes at the man you called your best friend, brows furrowed. “Just—Just shut up, okay? This is . . . exactly what I meant. Exactly what I should’ve said earlier.”

“What, that I’m the reason you now know one of life’s most valuable assets? I’m sorry you have a good mouth, ‘kay?” said Gojo, looking about as apologetic as a pineapple.

“You’re so . . . Ugh.”

Gojo lets your wrists go and you run your hands down your face, exasperated.

“I’m gonna need a little more than an ugh, you know. Not much to work with here.”

“Satoru, you’re—” You sigh, bracing yourself for his soon-to-occur dramatics. “You’re literally ruining my life right now.”

Gojo pauses, squinting at you, and then shrugs. “Not the first time I’ve heard that.”

“Satoru.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll hear you out.” Gojo drapes an arm across the back of the couch and drags you closer, pressing your chest against his side. “What’s the problem, squirt?”

You speak with a muffled voice, back slouched and cheek squished against Gojo’s torso.

“Thih.”

“What?”

“Thih ih deh problem.”

“Pretty girl, I admire the expanse of your vocabulary, but what?”

You shove off of Gojo and point an accusatory finger to his chest.

“This is the problem, okay! This. You calling me pretty girl; me being comfortable enough to come to you for fucking Blowjob 101; you practically dragging me to sit on your lap; and you—you having the audacity to come over at two in the morning and still call that friendly-fucking-behavior. My neighbors see it. Shoko and Utahime see it. Even my ex-boyfriends see it. Hell, that’s why they all broke up with me, which is why I’m going to end up single and—”

“Do you see it?”

“Wh-What?” You ignore the way your voice just trembled there.

“Do you see the things we do? The things I do? Because I hope you know, I don’t do any of it to just be friendly.” Gojo twists his body, caging you in on the couch. “I’m a man, too, you know. I’m not overly touchy or annoyingly clingy just so we can cuddle and hug all day.”

Gojo’s hands land beside each side of your head, and your legs rest between his knees. You’re laying with your back on the couch now, looking up at cerulean eyes that seem unusually distant.

“Satoru?” you stutter.

“And if your little boyfriends can notice that, maybe they’re all too much of a pussy to give you what you really need.”

“. . .” Your hands grasp his biceps.

“Do you see it now?”

“‘Toru . . .”

“I’d give it all to you,” says Gojo. “Everything that you want—anything that you need. I’d give it all, and more.”

“. . .”

“Forget about your ex-boyfriends. Being single for the rest of your life won’t matter as long as you have me—now isn’t that right?”

“Satoru, you . . .” You furrowed your brows, looping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to meet your lips. “You talk too much.”

Maybe you had sucked Gojo off once or twice, and maybe he had returned the favor by eating you out once or twice, but still, this was the first time you and Gojo had ever kissed. And, God, did it feel good.

His lips on yours, immediately kissing back, the two of you moving in sync and rhythm, hands running down the dips and curves of your body—it had been way too long since you last made out with someone like this. Way too long.

“Mm . . .” You could feel Gojo smiling against your lips. “I knew it.”

“Nngh, ‘Toru,” you sigh, pulling away for breath, “what is it?”

“Suguru owes me five thousand yen,” Gojo says, trailing kisses from your jaw down to your throat. “Told him you would kiss me first.”

You almost roll your eyes at his childishness. “How confident.”

“More like, irresistible.”

Gojo’s fingers play with the bottom of your shirt, before pulling it up to reveal your tits. Obviously, his eyes beam, hands darting to pinch your hardening nipples.

“See? Irresistible. Didn’t even bother wearing a bra around me.”

“I didn’t—nngh! know you were coming.”

You struggle to form complete sentences, eyes rolling into the back of your head with each pinch, tug, and pull.

“It’s okay to be embarrassed.”

You writhe beneath Gojo, nipple assaulted by his touch as his other hand moves from your stomach down to your hips. It leaves you shivering, fingers clawing at the couch beneath your ass.

“Satoru.” You suck in a breath, his hand drawing dangerously closer to where you needed him most. “I’m not—”

Gojo tugs your shorts down to your ankles quicker than what should be presumed humanly possible, and your words get lost in your throat.

“Well, would you look at that . . .” He releases your nipple, leaning down to get a closer look at your cunt as his eyes flash an electric blue. “You’re soaking.”

“I—”

“No bra or panties?” Gojo glances up at you from beneath his lashes, before looking back down at where your pussy dripped onto the material of your couch. “Must really be my lucky day.”

You swallowed.

“I mean, look at this.” Gojo dips two fingers between your folds, catching your slick on his digits as he brings them in for a closer look. “You’re dripping, baby.”

You don’t manage another word when he catches you off guard, suddenly shoving those very fingers right back into your squelching pussy.

“Nngh . . . Ah-Ahhn—!”

“I know, baby. I know.” The grin on Gojo’s face as he watches his fingers move in and out of your cunt can only be described as mad. “You haven’t had anyone this good in a while, huh.”

Your thighs quiver, forced apart by Gojo’s free hand, and you cry out as his fingers probe deeper and deeper, their speed increasing with each thrust.

Gojo curled his fingers, moving them fast, then slow, then fast, and then slow, again. You liked to think you hadn’t had sex in a while, and Gojo could tell, because of how tight your pussy was—but that was probably more because of the sheer length of his digits.

Even with his fingers he filled you immensely, reaching all your good spots within seconds.

“Hahh, ‘Toru—!”

“Two fingers and you’re already shaking? I’ll just have to force my cock to fit, then.”

“Oh, my . . . Oh, my God . . .”

“Please, you’re flattering me,” he says, in that annoyingly obnoxious voice of his. “This is nothing.”

Gojo makes you eat his words when he pinches your clit, a cry escaping your lips—but he doesn’t make you cum. Not yet.

There was more. Always more.

Gojo’s fingers curled and scissored your insides in a way you didn’t think possible. He stretched you nearly loose as he worked deeper and deeper, your moans becoming mere music to his ears.

“Mm, n-nngh—! Nngh, ahh . . .”

He was knuckles deep.

You could hear your heartbeat.

You whined loud—embarassingly loud; like a puppy, even—squirming as Gojo fingered your pussy till you cried for him to stop. Begged for him to stop. It felt good, too good. So good.

“I know, I know. You’ve never had anyone this big.” Gojo pulled his fingers away, leaving you just on the brink of your orgasm. “But just wait until I’m inside of you, okay?”

You didn’t think he meant his tongue.

Long, wet, warm—it looked like he was preparing to eat you alive as he took his sweet, sweet time licking stripes up your inner thigh.

God, were you throbbing.

“Satoru, please—mmph . . .”

You didn’t need to say any more; Gojo cut you off as he finally buried his face between your legs, hands gripping your knees to stay spread apart: just the way he liked it.

“You taste so sweet . . . Are you usually this wet for me?”

“Ah . . . Ahn—!”

Gojo sucked on your clit, stealing moans from your lips left and right, before dipping his tongue in between your folds.

“God, I’ve missed this.”

Even with his tongue he still managed to probe just as deep as his fingers did. You couldn’t fathom how a tongue could be so long, but then again, you weren’t exactly complaining.

Gojo’s mouth was basically latched onto your pussy, never letting go for even a second—not even to breathe. Was he a starved man or something? In regards to you, most likely.

Gojo was whipped. His chin was practically dripping with your slick, the tip of his nose bumping against your heat every so often, but none of that could have mattered any less as his tongue probed deeper and deeper within your walls.

“‘Toru . . . You’re, n-nngh! so deep . . . !”

“Mmm. But you just taste so good, can you blame me?”

“Oh, my G-God . . . !”

Your bottom lip trembled, hips squirming to move away from the man who was practically eating you alive, tongue licking your pussy clean, but he just wouldn’t let up.

“Aww, don’t run from it now. You’re not going anywhere.”

Your insides tightened, stomach coiling and nails clawing at your poor, ruined couch.

Like a man enjoying a five-course meal, Gojo flicked his tongue against your gummy walls, thrusting in and out—moving at an almost dizzying pace. You couldn’t help but tug at tufts of his hair, pulling at silver strands like they were your anchor.

“Satoru, I’m—” You sucked in a breath, legs trying but failing to close. “I’m gonna . . . Ah-ahhn, nngh—!”

You hit your absolute limit when Gojo pinched your clit, the stimulation drawing a scream from your lips.

You saw stars as you threw your head back against the couch, the coil in your lower-belly finally snapping as your thighs shook and cum gushed from your puffy, swollen lips.

“H-Hahh, ‘Toru . . . Unngh . . .”

“What are you whining for,” said the man of the hour. “Mad I made you cum harder than anyone else?”

Gojo licked a stripe up your poor, poor pussy, before pulling away to wipe your slick and fluids from his lips.

Looking back down at your pussy, which was literally soaking through the material of your couch, he snickered, face smug.

“Huh. Guess I made you squirt, too, then.”

You wiggled your hips beneath his eyes. An innocent action: one without intention.

“You’re so full of yourself,” you huff, chest rising and falling as you fought to catch your breath. “Doesn’t your head ever hurt from being so full?”

Gojo laughed in your face, “You’re funny,” before tugging you closer by the ankles. By instinct, you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer.

“Gonna fuck me now, big boy?”

“Where’d all this attitude come from, hm? Getting hot and bothered?”

“. . .”

Gojo pumped his cock: thick, long, and hard. He was throbbing, leaking precum.

You shuddered when he brought the tip to your cunt, dragging the fat head of his cock against your puffy lips and collecting some of your slick.

He was big. So big.

“Nngh . . .”

Gojo bent down to kiss you, cupping the right side of your face as he murmured against your lips. “Where’d that mouth go, baby? It’s okay, I’ll put it to better use later.”

Whatever smart retort you had was shut up by the sudden snap of Gojo’s hips, his cock suddenly stretching you past your limits as he bottomed out with just one thrust.

“Ah-Ahhn—! Unngh, mm . . . !”

You moaned against Gojo’s kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips as you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling.

Gojo had filled you to the brim with just a single thrust. His cock was practically melding your walls to his cock; he would make sure you remembered this.

“Hahh . . .”

You tightened your legs around Gojo’s waist, forcing his cock even deeper within your cunt. He hadn’t even moved yet, and yet here you were already shaking, nails clawing at the skin of his back as if a lifeline.

“‘Toru, you can—n-nngh . . . !”

Gojo had read your mind, backing away from the kiss as he pulled his cock out by just an inch, only to slam himself back in, immediately hitting all of your sweet spots.

At this rate, he was going to break you in half. You could feel every twitch and every pulse of his veins—it drove you mad. And with his thrusts growing in speed, absolutely wrecking your pussy each time he bottomed out, your cries and mewls could only do so much to earn you pity.

“O-Oh, my God! Satoru, you’re . . . a-ah-ahhn—!”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Why the fuck was he so big?

You could practically feel him in your guts, the head of his cock nearly bursting through your womb. He was so deep in—every brush of his length against your walls had you squirming around uncontrollably.

With how full you were, it was hard to believe you could make it out of there alive.

“Fuck, you’re tight. Where have you been hiding this cunt all my life?”

You blinked past your tears, the line between pain and pleasure growing blurry, but the sight of Gojo on top of you made it worth it.

Eyebrows knitted, eyes dark, the strands of hair falling over his forehead every so often—he looked so out of it. As if he had been waiting for this, and just broke as soon as he finally got a taste.

“Unngh, ‘Toru . . . You’re—”

The wind was knocked out of you with one particularly hard thrust, before he began to slow down, drilling his cock into your pussy at a more sensual rate. It was . . . intimate, but you ached for more. Your pussy dripped for more.

Gojo buried his face in the crook of your neck, groaning as each thrust left your thighs shaking and your legs locking around his waist, keeping him buried inside of your gummy walls.

“I hope you know,” he pants, thrusts growing erratic, “I’m not planning on staying just friends after this.”

You breathed in through your nose. “Y-Yeah? What do you plan on doing—after this, then?”

“After this,” he warnef, head dipping to nip and bite at the skin of your throat, “I’m gonna fuck you bent over the kotatsu. Then, I’ll take you in the kitchen, spread out on your counter, legs hanging over my shoulders. And when you finally decide how much of a bad guy I really am, I’ll fuck you to sleep in your bed. Just the way you like it.”

Gojo bites down. Hard. Almost enough to draw blood. And you cry out, skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat as you clinged onto a man double your size: the very same man who was up in your guts.

“Fuck. God . . .” Gojo groaned against your throat, thrusts growing irregular, before dragging a hand down to your stomach, and putting just the right amount of pressure on the spot where you could clearly see an outline of his length.

It steals a moan from you.

“You . . . You feel that? That’s, hahh, all me, baby. All me. Inside of your tight, little cunt. Fucking your, nngh, brains out. But that’s what you’ve wanted all this time, right?” Gojo breathed in your scent like a drug, groaning. “Bet you’ve been walking around your apartment in these tiny ass shorts just to get a rise out of me, yeah?”

“Unngh, ‘T-Toru—!”

“You’ve been wanting me to bury my cock inside of your soaking pussy. That’s why you let me in. That’s, hahh, why you answered the door . . . Isn’t that right, baby?”

You couldn’t answer. Not when his cock was drilling into your cunt like a machine, twitching and pulsing as he repeatedly hit your sweet spots, and your eyes were rolling into the back of your head.

“O-Oh, my . . .”

“You’re fuckin’ evil for that, you know? Giving me blue balls for months. But you’re smart, I’ll give you that. ‘Cause look where all of that got you?”

“‘Toru, p-please, I—o-ohh . . . !”

Gojo cut you off with a mean thrust, completely shutting you up.

“I know, baby. I know. You want to cum, don’t you? Poor baby. Just aching for cock, yeah?”

You shivered, and Gojo bent down to bite the flesh of your tit, before sucking on the hardened nipple, his tongue warm against your skin.

“A-Ahh, Satoru, please . . .” You squirmed and squirmed, mewling beneath the man as his cock repeatedly slammed into your gummy walls.

“You’re a big girl. Use your words.”

You were so fucked.

“‘Toru, please. I need to—hah, mmph—!”

(You did not make it on time to the doctor’s, by the way.)

⌕ author's note. is it just me or has my smut gotten worse........ please don't answer that. also i kinda want to start blue lock, but idk, it looks.. insane....

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manmuncher777 · 22 days ago

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how i feel everytime someone draws suguru with tan skin and purple eyes

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manmuncher777 · 22 days ago

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hey girl its 5am and im up thinking about satoru laying needy between f!readers legs BEGGING to let him munch 😫😫 could you write something on that?

Hey nonnie, of courseeee I cannn. I’m so sorry it took me fucking ages to get to this request, but I hope you enjoy :)

One second, you were lounging on your bed, knees slightly bent, oversized tee barely covering your thighs and a bowl of popcorn in hand. The next, there was the soft flash of blue and the weight of Satoru Gojo crawling between your legs like a man possessed.

“Hi, baby,” he panted, already settling on his stomach, head nudging between your thighs like he belonged there.

“…You good?” you asked, blinking down at him, popcorn paused halfway to your mouth.

He looked up at you, lashes fluttering, lips already wet and pupils blown wide. Desperate. Glossy eyes. Hands gripping your thighs like a lifeline.

“Please,” he breathed. “Let me taste. Just a little. I need it.”

You blinked again. “…Weren’t you on a mission?”

“I left early.”

Your brow quirked. “To eat me out?”

“To worship you,” he corrected, voice breaking into a soft whine as he kissed the inside of your thigh. “Please, sweetheart, you don’t understand— I’ve been thinking about it all day. Can’t stop. I’ll be good, I swear. Let me make you feel good, please.”

You set the popcorn aside, amused.

“You’re really begging?” you asked, teasing, brushing your foot up his back.

Gojo whined.

Gosh he really was desperate. You’d seen him pussy drunk before of course, but this was something different. It was rare he was quite so… submissive. And you must admit it was rather an ego boost. The way his glossy blue eyes were looking at you, like you were a goddess.

“Look at you,” you murmured, cupping his chin and dragging him up to make eye contact. “So pretty when you’re pathetic.”

“Yes,” he hissed, panting against your clothed pussy. “Please, baby—fuck, I’ll die if I don’t get a taste—”

You smirked.

“Then I guess you better hurry”

And you lifted your hips, letting him pull your panties down with trembling fingers — his groan vibrating straight through your core.

“Fuck yes,” he moaned, tongue already flattening against your folds, hands spreading your thighs wide as he devoured you like a man starved.

The show was forgotten. The popcorn was cold.

But your thighs? Dripping.

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manmuncher777 · 22 days ago

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DREAM CUM TRUE

Choso x reader smut 18+ MDNI

- you have no idea how long your Bestfriend has been pining over you

This is rushed and I low-key hate it but enjoy 💓 has not at all been proofread :)

You didn’t even know his name the first time you bumped into him.

Books slipping from your arms, your shoulder colliding with the solid wall of his chest — and when you stumbled back, flustered, you finally looked up into those dark, heavy-lidded eyes.

Choso almost didn’t move. Just stood there, staring down at you, towering over you like a shadow.

You had smiled at him.

“Sorry! I’m so clumsy,” you had laughed, bending down to scoop up your books without a second thought. “I’m Y/n, by the way.”

And Choso had stared. Barely breathing. Barely alive. You were right in front of him, talking to him, smiling at him like he mattered.

From that moment on, you were his.

You just didn’t know it yet.

You thought it was just a casual friendship.

Choso was shy, quiet, always hanging around the edges, but you liked him — thought he was sweet, even if a little awkward sometimes.

You didn’t see how his fingers twitched every time you hugged him goodbye, resisting the urge to grab you, to take you.

You had no idea that when he went home at night, he jerked off to the sound of your voice in his head, fist tight around his cock, hissing your name like a prayer.

He had a box under his bed. Things he stole — little trophies. A hair tie you’d dropped once. A receipt from your lunch left in the trash. Notes you doodled and threw away.

Your scent soaked into his pillows. Into his hoodie sleeves. Into the sheets he never changed.

Choso never planned to hurt you.

He just wanted to be close.

Closer than anyone else. Closer than you could ever run from.

You were already his.

You just didn’t know it yet.

You didn’t even think twice when you invited Choso over for a study date.

He was your friend — your quiet, sweet, weirdly loyal friend who always seemed to show up when you needed him.

And you figured it’d be nice to have company while you worked.

“You want something to drink?” you asked, smiling over your shoulder as you rummaged through the fridge.

Your little shorts rode up as you leaned down, and Choso sat stiff and silent on the couch, fists clenched in his lap, fighting for his fucking life.

“Water’s fine,” he rasped, voice hoarse.

He couldn’t stop staring. Couldn’t stop imagining.

How easy it would be to just take you.

Lift you up onto the counter. Spread you open.

Make you cry his name in that sweet little voice.

You sat down next to him, so close your thighs brushed.

Choso’s breath hitched. You didn’t even notice.

You were just so casual. So comfortable with him. Kicking your legs up onto the coffee table, one foot nudging his knee as you flipped open your laptop.

“Ugh,” you groaned, flopping back against the cushions. “I’m gonna fail this test.”

He wanted to tell you you were perfect. That you didn’t need tests. That he’d take care of you forever if you let him.

Instead he croaked out, “I’ll help you.”

His fingers trembled when he pulled his notebook out of his backpack.

And god, when you leaned in to look over his notes — your soft chest pressing up against his arm, your perfume dizzying in his head — he thought he was going to lose it.

“You’re so smart,” you murmured, tapping your pencil against his page, totally oblivious to how he was staring at you. “I’d be screwed without you, Choso.”

He swallowed so hard it hurt.

You didn’t know.

You didn’t know that every word, every laugh, every brush of your body against his was feeding the sick, snarling thing inside him.

You didn’t know he stayed up at night jerking off to the smell of your shampoo on his hoodie.

You didn’t know that right now, he was biting the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood, just trying not to grab you.

Because you trusted him.

You thought he was safe.

And he would be.

As long as you didn’t tempt him like this.

At some point, you must have fallen asleep.

Head lolling sideways, cheek pressed to Choso’s shoulder, your hand dropping into his lap as your breathing went soft and steady.

And Choso?

Choso sat there frozen, sweat beading at his temple.

Because your fingers — light and warm and completely innocent — were resting right over his cock.

It wasn’t even your fault.

You were just sleeping. You didn’t know.

But your fingers twitched in your sleep, brushing over him, and Choso let out the softest, broken whimper, barely biting it back in time.

He was hard. So hard it hurt.

It was pathetic, he was kicking himself internally.

Getting hard over this? Seriously?

And you were touching him.

The dirty little voice in his head screamed at him —

Grind into her hand. Buck your hips. Use her. She’s right there. She wouldn’t even know.

He squeezed his eyes shut, fists clenched, breathing ragged through his nose.

“Don’t,” he mouthed silently to himself. “Don’t. You can’t. You’ll scare her. You’ll ruin everything.”

He sat there trembling, trying to will his traitorous cock to behave, while your hand kept twitching softly against him.

And then —

“Mmm?”

You stirred, blinking sleepily up at him.

Your fingers flexed against his thigh before you pulled them away with a lazy, sheepish smile.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “God, I didn’t mean to like… knock out on you like that.”

You didn’t even notice his flushed face. His rigid posture.

(Or maybe you did — but you thought it was cute.)

You giggled. “You’re always so sweet, Choso. Letting me drool on you and everything.”

He swallowed thickly.

You had no idea what you were doing to him.

You stretched — arms over your head, shirt riding up just enough to flash a sliver of soft skin — and Choso’s mouth went dry.

His fists balled in his lap, trying desperately not to grab you, shove you back down, press himself against you and grind until he came.

You blinked up at him, tilting your head. “You okay?”

Your voice was all soft concern.

Choso’s voice cracked. “Y-yeah. Just— hot in here.”

“Aw,” you cooed, leaning in again without even thinking.

“You’re all flushed.”

Your hand reached out, brushing his bangs back from his forehead in a sweet, absentminded gesture.

Choso whimpered under his breath.

Your smile only widened.

God, he was adorable when he got all shy.

You had no idea he was two seconds away from breaking.

“You’re so warm,” you murmured dreamily, scooting even closer.

You curled up against his side, hand brushing over his chest. “You’re like a space heater, Choso.”

He flinched.

Because your hand wasn’t just on his chest —

It was dragging down, over his abs, innocent little fingers toying with the hem of his shirt — so close to his cock, it made him ache.

He swallowed hard. “Y-you’re cold?” he mumbled.

“Mhm,” you nodded, completely oblivious to the way his body was trembling. “You’re so comfy though.”

You tugged at his shirt again, laughing. “Lemme get under here. Share the warmth.”

And without even waiting, you crawled onto his lap.

Choso made a choked sound, hands flailing helplessly before they clamped down hard on your hips — trying desperately not to grind up into you.

You settled in, sweet and casual, not noticing the way he was shaking underneath you.

(Or maybe you did — and you just thought he was being shy.)

“You’re always so nice to me, Choso,” you smiled, resting your head against his shoulder again. “Such a good boy.”

He whimpered.

Good boy.

You didn’t realize you were grinding lightly against him, shifting to get comfortable —

Or how your thighs squeezed around his hips, your pretty scent flooding his head, making him dizzy.

You sighed happily. “Mmm, see? You’re my favorite pillow.”

Choso’s cock throbbed against the tight confines of his pants.

So hard it hurt.

Pre already soaking into his boxers, a sticky wet spot spreading over his crotch.

And you — sweet, oblivious you — just kept wriggling on his lap, your soft ass pressing down against his desperate dick.

“S-stop,” he whispered brokenly, voice cracking.

You lifted your head, blinking at him. “Hm?”

Choso looked wrecked.

Eyes glassy. Face flushed dark pink. Breathing ragged.

His hands were digging into your hips, desperate to hold you still — but he didn’t dare move.

“You’re making it hard—”

He bit off the words, cheeks burning, eyes squeezing shut.

You blinked. “Making what hard?”

And then you felt it.

The thick, hot press of him straining against you.

Hard and aching under his pants, twitching where you were sitting right on top of him.

You stared.

“O-oh,” you breathed.

Choso whimpered, burying his face in his hands, mortified.

“Sorry,” he croaked. “Sorry, sorry, I can’t help it, you’re just— you’re s-so pretty and you’re sitting right on— I didn’t mean to—”

You bit your lip.

God, he looked so sweet like this.

So desperate. So fucking pathetic for you.

You shifted in his lap — grinding down just a little — and Choso whined, hips jerking up helplessly.

You smiled.

“Poor baby,” you cooed, voice dripping mock-pity. “You’re so hard, huh?”

He froze for a second, unsure of how to react at first. He was half expecting you to laugh at him, maybe even ask him to leave. But not this. Not the thing he had been dreaming of forever

He nodded frantically, clinging to you like his life depended on it.

“You want some help, Choso?” you whispered, mouth brushing his ear.

He shivered violently, nodding again, pupils blown wide.

“Y-yeah,” he gasped. “Please. I need it. I-I’ll be good. I promise.”

“Good boy,” you murmured again, making him shudder.

You kissed his flushed cheek, your hand sliding down — finally palming the thick bulge in his pants — and Choso moaned, openly now, hips rocking into your touch desperately.

“Gonna be so good for me, right, Choso?”

Your voice was sweet and lilting, teasing him while you stroked him through his clothes.

“Y-yes,” he whimpered. “Anything. Anything you want.”

His head was spinning. His body was burning.

He needed you — he needed you — more than he’d ever needed anything in his entire life.

And you were finally, finally touching him.

Choso couldn’t take it anymore.

Your hand was still teasing over his cock, slow and sweet, acting like you didn’t know exactly how much he was crumbling.

He whined, hips jerking up again, the sound ripping from his throat without shame.

Your pretty lips curved in a knowing smirk — and that was it.

Something in him snapped.

In one desperate move, he grabbed you — strong hands wrapping around your thighs — and flipped you onto your back against the couch.

You gasped, blinking up at him in shock.

“Ch-Choso—”

He was already climbing over you, caging you in with his big body, breathing ragged and heavy, eyes wild and hungry.

“S-sorry,” he stammered — even as he yanked your pants down your thighs, desperate, trembling. “I can’t— I can’t— I’m sorry, I need you, I need it so bad—”

You barely managed to kick your jeans off before his mouth was on you.

Everywhere.

Messy kisses down your thighs, teeth scraping over your skin, tongue licking sloppy and wet up your inner thighs until you were whining underneath him.

“Choso—!” you gasped, fingers flying to his hair.

He latched onto your panties with his teeth — growling low in his throat — and yanked them down, dragging the fabric down your legs in one quick, feral tug.

And then he was staring —

at your slick folds, your sweet little cunt already glistening for him.

Choso moaned — full-bodied, broken — and dove between your thighs.

He was starving.

Mouth latching onto you like he was dying of thirst, tongue flicking frantic, messy, all-consuming —

like he wanted to eat you alive.

“So wet,” he mumbled between licks, voice thick and dazed. “So pretty, so good, you’re perfect—”

You cried out, thighs squeezing around his head, but he just groaned into you, slurping even harder.

You’d never seen someone so genuinely obsessed. He wasn’t even trying to be sexy — he was just desperate, falling apart, drowning in you.

“Please,” he whimpered, rutting against the couch, practically humping the cushions just from the taste of you on his tongue. “Please, lemme fuck you, please, please—”

You nodded frantically, tugging at his hair —

and Choso moved so fast you barely saw him shove his sweats down.

His cock sprang free — thick, flushed, leaking like crazy — so hard it curved toward his stomach.

You eyes going wide as you saw it, thick, red and dripping.

He lined himself up, hands shaking, eyes locked onto you like you were the only thing that had ever mattered.

“Gonna be good,” he panted, rubbing the head through your slick folds, making you both whimper. “Promise, ’m gonna take care of you, please—”

And then he thrust in — deep, one slow desperate push — and you both cried out, bodies jerking together.

He was huge — thick and stretching you open, making you claw at his back, but Choso just whimpered, burying his face in your neck.

“Tight— so tight, baby, fuck—” he babbled. “You feel so good, you’re made for me, made for me—”

He started thrusting —

messy, frantic, pounding into you with wet slaps —

and it was vicious, the way his hips snapped against you, driving his cock in deep every time.

He couldn’t hold back.

He wasn’t even trying to.

You were gasping, squirming, barely able to hang onto him as he fucked you into the couch, each thrust deeper and more desperate than the last.

The stretch was perfect. Moulding you to the shape of him, everything he ever craved.

Pressing himself deeper and deeper with each thrust, as if he never wanted to leave.

“Love you,” he moaned brokenly. “Love you so much, been waiting for so long, please, wanna make you cum, wanna feel you cum on me—”

You grabbed his cheeks, forcing him to look at you.

“Choso,” you breathed, “cum with me.”

His hips stuttered.

His whole body seized like he was about to die from how hard it hit him.

“F-fuck—!” he choked, slamming into you one final time as he came, thick ropes spilling deep inside you.

The feeling — the heat, the stretch, the way you clenched around him — it dragged you over the edge with him, clenching tight around his cock, milking him through it.

You both collapsed together, trembling, gasping, bodies glued to each other.

Choso held you close — still inside you, still twitching — and sobbed quietly into your neck.

“Love you,” he whispered again. “Love you so much, ’m sorry, couldn’t help it, you’re mine—

You shushed him gently, stroking his hair, pressing kisses into his temple.

Because God —

how could you ever be mad at someone who loved you this much?

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