kobeniiluvs

[kobeniiluvs]

thinking about emo boy!choso who you see working in hot topic and you think he’s really cute. so you keep going back to see him. But he’s also real quiet so you keep striking up conversations with him until you see those perfect lips curl in a smile.

and then you fuck him in the back of hot topic on his break, trying not to scream while he’s got you pressed against storage racks with his ten inch dick in you.

[kobeniiluvs]

can people stop being ugly now and saying satosugu didn't care about shoko because clearly they did

[kobeniiluvs]

geto suguru you were too beautiful too cunty too gorgeous too ravishing too irresistible too bewitching they had to kill you

[kobeniiluvs]

୨୧ gojo accidentaly calling you mommy in the heat of the moment.

mommy kink. satoru doing a reverse card on you. ¹⁸ mlist

“mommy—” gojo groans his face buried on the crook of your neck, hands holding onto the headboard, your eyes widen, your hand flying to his hair, tugging sharp enough to make him hiss.

“mommy?” you repeat, your voice mix of shock and glee, a grin spreading across your face.

he definitely said that on accident, both of you knew damn well it was, and you’re about to tease the shit out of him.

“shut up.” he growls, cutting you off with a harder thrust, the kind that makes your breath catch and your toes curl, his hands grip your hips, fingers digging into your skin, pulling you back to meet his relentless pace.

“don’t even start.” but you’re already laughing, breathy and smug, your nails raking his scalp.

“no, no, mommy? really?” you taunt, your voice dripping with mockery.

“didn’t know you were that needy, baby boy.” gojo’s eyes flash, narrowing as he lifts his head, his smirk dangerous and all trouble.

“oh, you wanna play like that?” he says, his voice low, teasing, he slams into you again, deeper, making you moan loud and sharp.

“yeah, mommy? want me to fuck you like this, mommy?” he flips your tease right back, his tone mocking and filthy, leaning into the slip like it’s his new weapon.

“fuck!” you gasp, your head tipping back as he hits that spot that makes you see stars, his hands slides to your thighs, spreading them wider, giving him better access to drive into you.

he leans down, his teeth grazing your earlobe. “c’mon, mommy, tell me how good it feels. you’re so loud earlier, what happend now?” you try to retort, but he thrusts harder, cutting you off with a cry that’s all pleasure, no words.

his hands gripped you tighter, one sliding to your clit, circling fast and rough, his thigh shifting under your leg to lift your lower body up.

“c’mon, keep talkin, i fuckin’ dare you.” you laugh, breathy and broken, but you’re losing ground, your moans louder than your words.

you opened your mouth your voice shaky. “you're so—fuckin—desperate, callin’ me mommy like that.”

“desperate?” gojo’s eyes darken, and he slams into you, hard enough to make the bed creak louder, your cry echoing. “who’s desperate now, huh?”

“want it harder, mommy? like this?” he thrusts deeper, faster, his fingers circling your clit in time, and you’re gone, your moans turning to screams, your body shaking as you cum, hard and fast, clenching around him.

[kobeniiluvs]

“you know,” yaga started slowly, side-eyeing the sea of alumini surrounding him. covered in wounds and scratches alike. yet all eyes fix to the scene only a few metres away.

the strongest sorcerer of the modern age, bent and observing every inch of your being. you, his wife. his large hands cupping your face once he's assured no fatal harm has come onto you.

some eyes soften as you're dragged into satoru's strong arms. some hitch their breaths at the look of softness in bright blue eyes that boasted utmost feralness but a moment ago. when your life was on the line. when the sea of opponents thought it a grand idea to target you — the honoured one's beloved.

“if anything happens to that woman," yaga continued, blank, despite the small throat clear.

“we're all done for.”

[kobeniiluvs]

being bullied by stoner!suguru and stoner!choso where they pressure you into coming to their frat party, resulting in you sandwiched between them on the couch as they pass blunts between each other. they twirl your hair and rub their hands on your bare thighs and blow smoke into your face until you’re too flustered to handle them, ditching the party. little do you know, though, they’ve got a hell of a lot planned to make you theirs.

[kobeniiluvs]

୨୧ — "Cant sleep," Gojo announces at 2 AM, his white hair adorably mussed as he stands in your doorway.

"Me either," you admit, trying not to stare at how his sleep shirt clings to his lean muscles… and before you can protest, he's already pushing into your room.

"I know!" he claps his hands together, "lets build a pillow fort!" Once again, before you can question him or protest, Gojo Satoru is already stripping your bed of its blankets and pillows. His energy truly didn’t know any bounds, and it was almost infectious as he constructed walls- hung fairy lights he seemingly produced from nowhere. It was almost like he had planned for this.

Inside the soft cocoon of blankets, his usual playful side slowly melts away. The loss of his best friend Geto was weighing on him heavily tonight, it showed in how desperately he pulls you close.

"Stay with me, don’t ever think about leaving’ me…" he whispers against your lips, his kisses needy and deep for once. His hands gripping your hips in a possessive way that screams ‘I don’t want to be alone’ as he grinds slowly against you.

"I'm here, Satoru," you breathe, feeling him shudder at his given name. His fingers bite into your skin almost painfully, a way for him to anchor himself to you.

When he reaches for the condom in his pocket, he suddenly hesitates… Those sky-like eyes meeting yours for a split second before darting away, the sweetest pink hue crossing his beautiful features.

"Let’s not use protection this time," he mumbles, voice uncharacteristically uncertain... Long white lashes fluttering as he blinks, "I know, I know- it's selfish," he continues, pressing his forehead to yours, "But I keep thinking, what if..." His voice trails off…

And for the first time, the infamous Gojo Satoru looks almost fragile.

Those carefully built walls crumbling before you as he shares what’s been on his mind, "A reason to come home," he breathes, "Someone waiting... tiny feet running down my hallways instead of just ghosts and memories."

Your heart aches at how young and innocent he suddenly looks… this powerful man- the strongest sorcerer, wanting nothing more than a future filled with love rather than loss.

"Whatever happens..." he whispers against your lips, hips pressing into yours, "happens..."

"Okay~," you whisper back, pulling him closer. His whole body relaxing- melting into you at your acceptance.

One of his large hands span your stomach, already imagining it swollen with his child, "I realized the other day that I want to give you everything... want to come home to you both..."

"Everyone leaves," he murmurs brokenly between heated kisses. "Can't lose you to..."

"Never," you promise as he rocks against you, his usual confidence stripped away leaving just Satoru- young and afraid of being alone.

Your legs wrap tighter around him as he moves against you, his usual cockiness replaced by raw need and hope. For once, the strongest sorcerer isn't thinking about power or victory- his usual cockiness gone in this moment, replaced by genuine feelings of the possibility of creating something beautiful instead of destruction.

"Please," he begs, voice cracking, "Let me give you- give us this... let me have something to protect..."

In the safety of your pillow fort, surrounded by twinkling lights, you hold him close as he seeks more than just physical pleasure. He's seeking a future where love outweighs loss, where coming home means more than empty victories.

His kisses grow more desperate as you arch beneath him, both of you chasing not just release but the promise of tomorrow. Tonight, in this soft haven of blankets and fairy lights, Gojo Satoru isn't the strongest sorcerer- he's just a young man dreaming of a future filled with love instead of ghosts.

[kobeniiluvs]

౨ৎ satoru was the most unserious man you’d ever slept with, hands down.

he practically scrambled into bed, tugging you with him. his kisses were hot and wet, a little frantic with teeth clashing. you were both too impatient for anything slow.

he fumbled with a condom, then pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before settling between your legs. just when he was about to sink in, he stopped and reached over to flip off the light switch.

“satoru, what are you doing?” you whispered, your eyes struggling to adjust to the sudden darkness. “the last time we did this with no lights, you ended up with that awful bruise, remember?”

“shh, baby.” he silenced you with a finger on your lips, then pointed down to where his tip was pressing against you. “look.”

raising an eyebrow, you shifted a little, following his gaze. “oh, my god,” you said, a touch of disgust in your voice. “why is the condom glowing?”

“because it’s glow-in-the-dark! it was on sale!”

“satoru gojo, is this what you were doing when i sent you to the store? you were supposed to get actual necessities, like… eggs and milk!”

“but these are way cooler,” he whined, a finger lightly brushing against your slick cunt.

your breath hitched. “yeah, if you’re twelve, maybe. i don’t want that inside me. who knows what kind of chemicals are in that thing!”

“but- but it glows!”

“don’t we have any other condoms?”

“nope,” he said sheepishly. suddenly, his eyes sparked. “if you really don’t like these, we could always just go without!” the excitement in his voice was almost unsettling.

you just stared at him. he gave you his best puppy-dog eyes.

sighing, your head falls back onto the pillow. “just… just do it.”

you never stood a chance. and even with your eyes squeezed shut, you could still see the faint, greenish glow.

[kobeniiluvs]

Satoru Gojo can't stand tender sex.

Satoru Gojo cannot cum if he doesn't see red, angry imprints of his hands over your ass cheeks.

Satoru Gojo cannot help it but make you scream and cry, and he will plaster his large hand over your mouth to shut you up, or stick his fingers inside and press your tongue flat, or wrap it around your neck so that you can only wheeze for mercy while he pounds inside you with reckless abandon.

Satoru Gojo can't help it but litter bruises all over your hips and legs as he gropes you while having sex. He cannot control the strenght his fingers dig into your skin when he's lost in the feeling of your perfect cunt wrapped around his cock.

Satoru Gojo cannot go more than a week without having sex with the love of his life, aka, you.

Satoru Gojo who has woken you up from the most awful of nightmares by fucking you stupid over your shared bed, unable to think of the ghosts that haunt the shadows when he's fucking you like he wants to kill you himself.

Satoru Gojo who has forced you to double the amount of turtleneck shirts, dresses and sweaters you own. Because he cannot bring himself to stop sucking hickeys and leaving bitemarks all over your neck, collarbone and cleavage.

Satoru Gojo who unapologetically admits his favorite position is on all fours. So he can mount you like a dog in heat.

Satoru Gojo who whines whenever he gets too rough, his cock aching and red from the friction, your clit puffy and swollen from the abuse. But he can't stop, he won't stop, his eyes will get all glossy and drool will leave his perfectly pink lips, and he won't stop.

Satoru Gojo who despite feeling numb from the waist down, will make sure to bathe you, and feed you, and make you feel as loved and adored as you truly are, even when his hips spell I HATE YOUR GUTS with every rough thrust.

Satoru Gojo who loves you sweetly, tenderly. With all of his heart.

suguru's side

Gojo M.List

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[kobeniiluvs]

Crybaby choso who instantly bottoms out and begins to blubber the second he’s in your pretty cunt, the feeling of your gummy walls far too much for his pathetic cock. Hiding his face in your plush breasts as you began grinding your hips and murmuring. “S’okay baby, you told mommy you could take it? Why we cryin’?”

[kobeniiluvs]

Choso’s a tit jiggler… fight me.

You KNOW his ass is a lil freak, obsessed with the way your tits bounce so Ofc he’s gonna squeeze them and shake them in his hands, gripping them. Sometimes leaving red prints in your breasts from how hard he holds them:(

A little extra but he ADORES swirling his tongue all over your nipples, leaving trails of saliva behind, writing out his name with his tongue<3

[kobeniiluvs]

satoru "fake backshots" gojo who likes to sneak up on u when ur doing the most mundane tasks around the house and give you fake backshots.

yes, fake backshots.

washing dishes? the man is trying his hardest not to make any noise as he slips into the kitchen, watching u from behind, licking his lips at the sight of u in pajama shorts n' a lousy excuse for a tank top, tapping ur foot n' humming to a song playing in your earbuds. completely and blissfully unaware of the mischievous man lurking behind u. until u feel him, his hands sly n quick, his left getting a hold of ur hips while, his right pushes ur back into a arch. barely having time to react, all you could do was gasp, n try to push him away.

to no avail, satoru presses his pelvis into ur butt, before pulling back n thrusting his hips back n forth. satoru grinned eliciting small sighs and gasps from the same lips that complained "pervert! i can't even do the dishes in peace anymore!" . the man behind u leaned down to obnoxiously moan in ur ear in response "yea? yea? you like that, huh? like it when i take you like this?" u rolled ur eyes in annoyance, pushing his head away from your ear as he continued to thrust his bulge into ur ass. "satoru, ur so weird!"

"ohhh you love it, huh? feel good? yea? you gonna cum for me, baby? don't worry im right here with y-you- fuckkkkk!! nghhhhhh !!!!" satoru threw his head back n' at this point you couldn't tell if he was being serious or overly obnoxious like he always is. that is until he slows his movements and you look back at him. ready to scold him, but then ur eyes shift to his navy blue sweatpants, an obvious darker hue over his bulge.

"whoops" he shrugged stepping closer to u

the weirdo came in his pants

ur fully facing him as he towers over u, caging u in with the sink behind u,

"wanna do it for real now?" he lazily grinned at ur perplexed expression.

a/n: here damn 🙄.

© arminslovurr 2023-25 , do not copy, translate, make ai chat bots or alter my work in any way.

[kobeniiluvs]

Gotta Give To Take

Synopsis: in which roommate!choso hides himself away and you have to coax him out Warnings: smut, a little angsty, plot is just an excuse to be horny I won't lie, no penetrative sex, edging, femdom, manipulation, not proofread Word Count: 4.8k

You’ve fucked up. 

Really fucked up. 

But it wasn’t your fault. Choso, your roommate, wasn’t supposed to be home. He wasn’t supposed to be in your bedroom, hiding in your closet when your friends piled in, drunk and laughing about the pair of panties they found in the living room after the party had moved from the bar to your place. 

Having asked him if there would be any surprises waiting for you, you relied on his promise that the apartment was spotless. 

So, really, it was his fault that he heard them mock his weird, emo disposition. That he heard them call him your ‘creepy, pervy roommate’ who’s ‘probably been sniffing your panties behind your back.’ What he hadn’t heard, however, was your defence of him. Your lack of a monologue about how he’s more than just your roommate apparently hurt him. 

Now, he isn’t speaking to you. 

“Choso, you can’t starve yourself,” you warn, trying to reach him through his locked door. “Just take the fucking food and quit moping.”

There’s no response — no, scratch that, there is a response and it takes form, not in words but, in heavy rock metal blasted on concert-grade speakers. 

“Ugh, fuck you, asshole.”

It’s been days since. You haven’t seen him. Not a glimpse of him heading to the bathroom or to the kitchen. The trays of food you’ve been leaving by his door remain untouched after hours and your nails have been dulled by your constant biting. Even the carpet’s grown worn down by your incessant pacing.

You’ve tried baiting him by leaving his favourite pairs of your panties on top of the laundry basket but they lay there just as you left them when you come back. His own brother hasn’t heard from him. Awkward as hell in the apartment, you don’t dare leave your room anymore either. Perhaps he’ll feel more comfortable coming out to eat if he knew for sure he wouldn’t run into you. 

This has never happened. Sure, there have been times where it’s been frosty between you but that was usually from your end. You’d tell him off for one thing or the other and he’d follow you around, hair all droopy and with a rain cloud over his head as he pouts and begs for forgiveness. 

Impossible to know how to deal with him like this, you just leave him be. Or at least you were planning to. 

Because, at two am, you hear his door click open. The padding of socked feet heading down the hallway and into the kitchen reaches your ears. To hell with boundaries — he never respected yours to begin with. It’s that exact thinking that prompts you to sneak, in the dark, from your room to his. 

The place looks just as it usually does: messy black sheets that are deceptively soft to the touch, big ass speakers in the corner, bass guitar propped up by a wall, and clothes thrown all over the place. Bouncing on the bed, you fiddle with the hem of your shirt, the only thing you’re wearing, as you anticipate his reaction. 

Truthfully, you have no plan; this is impulsive as hell. But waiting for Choso to grow a pair and use his words might be as fruitful as bottling the sun. 

He’s coming back. You can hear the footfall getting louder. Heart beating faster in time with the sense of pending doom screaming that things are going to shit, you clear your throat just as he steps back in. With the moonlight streaming from the window, you hear, rather than see, his surprise — sharp intake of air, clumsy shut of the door, and the clinking of his rings as he wrings his hands together. 

“Choso,” you say.

There’s no response.

He’s unsure of what to say, how to approach you, probably doesn’t even know what’s going on. Shuffling on the cold, wooden floors, he holds his breath.

“Sit.”

Your roommate carefully slides into the desk chair right opposite the bed where you are. At your command, he also turns the lamp on, a warm glow bathes you both and from your place, you see his permanent dark circles have grown darker, his hands shake as they dangle over the armrests, and his hair is flat, they’ve lost their shine. 

Sighing, you ask, “What’s happened to you? Why did you disappear?”

“I was upset,” he begins, hesitantly, like he’s approaching a bear. “Your friends called me all sorts of names and you didn’t defend me.”

“What does it matter what they think? You’ve quite literally never cared about other people’s opinions.”

The man dresses like a rock and roll star, picks his brother up from school paying no mind to the stares he gets from all the parents and teachers alike. He doesn’t smile back at polite servers, gives out cold rejections to blushing girls, and sprints through supermarket aisles, mowing down innocent shoppers, to find you. And considering his own group of friends, a ragtag collection of delinquents, social rejects, and morally dubious individuals, he hardly seems in a position to judge your friends back.

Slumped in his chair, he fiddles with a paperweight. “I don’t care about them and what they think. They don’t know anything.”

“Right, so then what’s the fucking problem? Why haven’t you been picking up my calls, replying to my messages, or answering the door when I knock?”

“No reason,” he mutters.

You groan. You’re fed up. It’s all complete and utter bullshit. Angry, your feet carry you over to him in a blink of an eye. His chin is gripped in your hand and you force him to look at you. He’s tired. Besides the dark circles, there’s redness in his eyes, a tightness to his lips and dullness in his skin. Clearly he hasn’t been eating properly and who knows when the last time he’s had a drop of sunlight was. “Choso…talk to me.”

A pinching echoes in your chest when he shakes out of your grip. 

“I don’t care what they think. But you…” He sucks in a breath, flexing his jaw. “You’re different. You’re supposed to be different, supposed to understand, to be on my side. I felt alone that day and I don’t know what to say to you because I’m not mad. I can't be mad ‘cause I know I’m a little weird. I’m just…hurt, I guess.”

Gulping, you try to defend yourself. “I didn’t know what to say to them. We have a complicated relationship, Choso, and you know it. They wouldn’t understand. Hell, I don’t understand.”

“I think maybe we should uncomplicate it.”

You gasp.

This can’t be the end. He can’t have switched it off, that thing that tethers him to you, that makes him wholly yours in a way that would baffle others. Just the thought is making you nauseous — you don’t know what he’s done to you to send your blood pressure skyrocketing, your palms clammy and breath short at the prospect.

You have to do something. 

You can't let him win, can't let things unfold like this.

He's your roommate, your weirdo, your Choso.

Confused, he watches you walk back to the bed, keeping your eye on him. 

Decisively, you declare, “You don’t get to decide when this is over, Choso. I do. And I say, we’ve barely begun. So, don’t look away. Don’t you dare.”

Somewhere, deep inside you, you know you’re doing something stupid, something crazy, something you’ll completely regret later but in the blanket of the night, with this growing distance between you, you can’t seem to care about words of wisdom, about sanity, or the future. You exist in the now and damn it all if he gets his way. 

Laid back, you spread your legs, the cool air tickling your bare skin. His sheets feel good under you and when you inhale, you’re overwhelmed with his masculine smell, musky yet sweet.

Not even wearing cute panties, you make a show of running your hands up and down your thighs, feeling your slit through the material.

Slightly panicked, perhaps worried this is a test and he’s failing, he hurriedly asks, “W-what’re you doing?” 

There isn’t a hint of insecurity in your voice when you casually reply, sing-songy tone piercing through him, an arrow finding its way home. “Oh, you know…just reminding you why exactly it’s my panties you jerk off with.”

Wasting no more time, you pull said cloth off and circle your clit. The flimsy material stays with you; he’s not quite deserving of it yet. You’re already a little wet and you cling onto that shred of desire, desperate to lose yourself in utter insanity if that’s what it’ll take. 

“I’m getting wetter, Choso. I’m spreading it onto my clit so I can rub at it.”

He clears his throat. “This isn’t right, Y/n. W-we shouldn’t. You shouldn’t.”

Working two fingers in immediately, you’re growing breathless. The ceiling is all you can look at, maybe because you don’t know how you’ll fare if you dare sneak a glance and he’s not looking at you. “You can go, Choso. You can walk away. I won’t get in the way. But nothing you can do will make me stop until I’ve soaked y-your sheets.”

You’re working your tentative digits in, smothering it in your warm wetness, hoping the minimal light from his desk lap does the job in showing him just how wet you are. 

“What have you even been doing in h-here?” Without sensing it, you know the conversational tone of your voice is baffling to him; who finger fucks themselves and asks about things on the same subject line as the weather?

A conflicted noise comes from your roommate. He’s torn between leaving for everyone’s sake and staying to see this through. “Sleeping.”

The man has a talent of hibernating at will – his younger brother boasted, when you used to babysit him, how he can sleep anywhere, no matter how uncomfortable the environment. And since he’s moved in, you’ve been able to verify, on numerous occasions, that talent. So you believe the bastard when he effectively says he’s been weaponising said talent against you.

Keen to not dry up from your annoyance, you ask, with a slightly pornographic voice, “Are you looking, Cho? Can you see my pussy? Is she pretty?”

Raspy, he replies, “Yeah…she’s pretty.”

Voice much closer than before, you have no idea where exactly he is and you can’t look. You’re not brave enough to find out, so instead, you slide a hand up your shirt, nails teasing your skin which rise with the cool air that you welcome in. Groping a tit, you realise he’s never seen your body in great detail, not even now that you’re laid out like a buffet he won’t touch. 

Sure, he’s seen glimpses of your bare body – he saw a lot after a nude was mistakenly sent to the wrong person, or the right, depending on who you ask. Not to mention all other ‘accidental’ run-ins you’ve had in the bathroom before and don’t talk about, not even when you can hear low grunts and wet sounds coming from his room shortly after.

It’s clear Choso is no stranger to your body, how could he be when he routinely gets off on the scent of your panties, sucking the gusset into his mouth like it’s his last meal?

But this is different: those other times had been mere peeks, slivers of parts of your body then hastily covered. Now, he’s seeing the direct source of all those panties he covets so much and he’s seeing it wet and swollen, hearing the growing squelches, can watch exactly how you like to be touched, what makes you moan the loudest, your back arch up suddenly, and can note just how many circles he’d need to rub on your clit to have your legs shaking. This has to be enough to get your way and if it isn’t, you don’t know what you’ll do. 

“She’s upset with you, Cho…”

A pained noise escapes his lips. “She is?”

“Uhuh. You’ve been neglecting her, ignoring the -ah- panties she’s left for you. Do you h-have any idea how much work she’s put into them, getting them real wet after she got all messy for you?”

You gasp, eyes flying open.

He’s there.

He’s standing at the foot of the bed, towering over you.

Almost as if you can sense him on a deeper level than visual or auditory, you, or rather, your body, knew he’s come closer, unable to stay too far away. Only appearing as a shadow, you can’t quite see his exact expression; the desk lamp is behind him, casting you in a barely-there warm glow whilst leaving him void of any light. Suddenly too aware of the absurdity of it all, your legs quiver, pulling shut like a reflex. 

Arms dart out.

Prying them open, his cold hands grip your knees. “Don’t close them. I can’t tell her I’m sorry if you hide her away, right?”

“You w-want to see?” Collecting your wetness with wobbly fingers, you lift them up to show him, parting your digits to display the translucent stringiness of your juices.

Something heavy thumps to the ground. 

Choso’s on his knees, ring-clad hands sliding down your thighs, so close to where you’re hottest. Much closer to you now, literally within a hair's breadth away, you can see him better; eyes glazed over and mouth parting, you recognise that look. It’s the look he gets when he’s deep in pleasure, reason and rationality no longer orbiting his world.

No, you’re not dealing with normal Choso right now — the Choso that picks you up from wherever you are, no matter the time, that brings home plushies he won for you, who won’t eat dinner unless it’s with you, who can’t seem to fucking sleep unless he hears a goodnight from you. 

The one between your legs is an animal, driven completely by instincts, chasing a predator he wants as prey. His fingers, much longer than yours, dig into the plush of your thighs, squeezing to feel the smooth flesh welcome him. He can break your bones, can pin you to the bed, against the wall, can smother your face in the pillow, ignore your begging, and sink his cock in mercilessly if he deigned, if he thought you’d want him to. 

“You wanna say sorry, Cho? To her? To me?” He nods with no hesitation, loose locks of hair flying with the movement. “Then, tell her how good she tastes. Tell her how much you missed her. Plead your case.”

Diving in, your fingers are swallowed into his mouth, tongue parting them so he can get in the nooks and crevices, suckling all of your essence and being sure not to taste a drop. His eyes roll back just as vibrations tickle your skin; he’s groaning, sucking hard, clutching your wrist in an iron-clad hold in case you tease him by pulling away. “S-sweet. She tastes sweet. Missed her….missed you. So much. Ah, fuck…she tastes so much better like this –fresh a-and warm. I c-can’t think, can’t –hah, I need to taste from the source, need more, p-please.”

You snatch your fingers away, smearing his own saliva all over his face when you grip his chin to stop him from face-planting into your cunt. “No, Choso. That’s too nice for someone who mopes instead of talking through his problems. You’ll stay there and watch me touch myself. You won’t get to feel how hot and tight I am inside, not with your tongue, your fingers, and certainly not with your cock.”

“I just watch?” He scoffs, downright offended. 

Playing with your clit again, you work yourself back up. “If you’re a well-behaved puppy, then maybe I’ll let you clean my fingers.”

“Yes,” he promises, scooting closer and keeping his eyes trained on the way your slender fingers rub in tight circles. “I’ll be good.”

“Prove it.”

Choso knows what you mean and his audible gulp brings a smile out of you. What you’re asking is cruel, mean, and possibly beyond evil but you know he’ll do it. He’s proven time and time again that there are no limits to the lengths he’ll go to to satisfy his depravity, nothing is too shameful, too humiliating when it comes to you. Even when he’s supposed to be mad at you, he can’t take his eyes off your body, can’t resist thumbing the drop of sweat running down your thigh and drinking the taste of you, and he won’t leave, though the door’s unlocked, not when you’re here, finally in his bed. 

He barks. 

Once. 

Twice. 

It’s enough. Your back arches off the bed, fingers sliding down to curl inside you once more, pressing up, hard, against your gooey walls.

Sniffing your hand, he sure does act like a dog. He’s chasing your scent, drooling over it actually, and you can tell by his grunts, and the sounds of violent shuffling, that he’s fisting his cock, timing it to your thrusting. “When I take my fingers out to rub my clit, are you rubbing your slit, Choso? Hmm? Are we in sync? Are you imagining it’s my hand, my tongue on your dick?”

“Yes,” he confesses. “Your hand’s too small for me, you’ll probably -hah- struggle to wrap it around my cock, but it’s okay, you can use your other hand a-and your mouth.”

“Do you -ngh!- think about that often? Do you imagine f-fucking my throat when you use my panties to jerk off?

His face falls on your thigh, cheek smushed against your flesh. You can feel his warm breath fanning over your sloppy cunt. Long lashes graze your skin, and when he turns ever so slightly to place a kiss there, you feel your walls squeeze around your fingers. “S-sometimes. The other times I imagine you riding my face — oh, you sound so pretty. I’ve heard you before, y’know? You touch yourself most right before your period. I-I listen outside the door.”

Laughing, you say, “You’re not exactly very quiet when you jerk off, Choso.”

“Hmm, you sound much better up close. Smell and taste better too.”

“You should remember that next time you decide to lock yourself away.”

Sneakily, he licks a stripe up your thigh, and when you don’t say a thing, focusing instead on the rhythm you’ve set inside yourself, he sucks up the droplet of pussy juice threatening to disappear between the cleft of your ass, groaning. “There won’t be a next time. Days without you felt like hell. I can’t do it again.”

“Hah, good,” you tease, unable to help yourself, “‘cause I. Missed. You. Too.”

Choso growls and, with your revelation, casts all niceties away.

Oh shit.

Brutal hands spread your legs far, suddenly bending you in half and baring you to his gluttonous gaze. Rings dig into your flesh, warming up. He’s eyeing your pussy, not with adoration and worship any longer, but with a voracious appetite – you’ve laid out a feast for him and he won’t deny himself any longer, not when you practically offered yourself on a silver platter.

A most welcome sacrificial lamb.

 “So fucking pretty.”

Fingers still inside, you’re frozen with shock and fear at the sharp glint in his dark eyes. That’s all the warning he gives you before he begins lapping at your covered pussy, tongue delving wherever it can reach, seeking whatever you can’t hide. Wet appendage slithers in gaps you can't cover fast enough. The tip of his tongue grazes your clit, your fluttering hole, your fucking ass until you hurriedly obscure every inch he manages to reach.

It’s forceful, feral, and there’s not a hint of humanity left in the man you see. Clamping your hand down onto your cunt, you attempt to do damage control. “No! Stop! I take it back.”

“Move your hand," he growls.

You don’t. 

Can’t.

“Move, please. I want to -hngh- taste you, want to f-feel you on my tongue.” He’s manically licking and sucking with no thought, face pressed as tightly between your legs as he can, like if he could burrow himself inside your pussy, he would. “Let me make you feel good. Let me make you cum, baby.” 

Your other hand flies down, desperately pushing his head away but he shakes you off. “Choso! Stop! This isn’t what we -ngh! oh fuck!- a-agreed on.”

Wrenching your arms away, he’s just about to smash his face into your sloppy pussy when you resort to using your feet, kicking him away by the shoulder. 

“No. Bad, Choso!" Legs pressed tight together, huddled by the headboard, you hold a pillow between him and yourself, hiding your body from his lustful glare. "You can’t just be a prick, ignoring me, starving yourself and then try to eat me out. That’s not how this works.”

His knee falls on the bed, then the other, and soon he’s crawling over to you, muscles on show rippling with barely restrained desire. Silky, black hair messy, out from their usual pigtails, contrasts with the shiny silver of his piercings. God, if he wasn’t baring his teeth at you like some kind of wolf on the prowl, you’d be knuckles deep in your cunt, intent on cumming to the sight…maybe you still can. 

“I want to taste you. Let me and I’ll forgive you.”

You smack him in the face with the pillow. “We’re way past that, asshole. Back up, you’re scaring me.”

Squealing, you’re dragged down the bed into a starfish position by the ankle. Choso slots himself between your legs, hands sliding underneath your thighs and bending them back so he can clearly see everything. His touch is firm, unyielding, but his thumb is rubbing soothing shapes into your skin. “I won’t hurt you.”

“I know.” Growing breathless again, you watch him lie down on his stomach, hand coming down to, where you can only guess to be, his cock, hidden under his boxers. “But I can’t trust that you won’t get all scary again and try and fuck me.”

He smiles. “I won’t, not until you beg me.”

“Hey, fuck you, asshole. That’ll never ha–”

Interrupting you, he gets back into serious mode and says, almost cooing, “You didn’t get to cum, right? I’m sorry. I won’t get in the way anymore. Touch yourself. Cum on my sheets. I want to sleep with the scent of you around me."

When did the loser get so bossy?

Rolling your eyes, you do as he says but only because you were going to anyway. Fingers swirling in your essence, you focus on your swollen pussy, clit hard and throbbing. 

The bed is shaking a little; he’s rutting his cock into the mattress, eyes rolling back a little every time he takes a good inhale of your tangy scent. 

Still wet, getting back into the rhythm isn’t hard, not when he’s keeping his promise and you’re given the space to work yourself back up again. 

“Why didn’t you -hah- use the panties I left for you?” Embarrassed that your bribes hadn’t been accepted, your question comes out meek, shy, and totally pathetic. Choso doesn’t notice. 

He grunts, bed rocking a little faster when you rub at your clit with one hand and thrust inside with the other. “I did. I’d come out w-when you’re in your room or you’re out and -oh, God you’re so wet- smell them. They were the only things keeping me sane. K-knowing that you’re missing me too made me so happy.”

“H-how much longer were you even planning on going without seeing me?”

Sheepish, he answers, “I was seeing you. Just when you were sleeping. You snore a little. It’s cute. I like it when you sleep in those tank tops – it’s easy to pull it down and see your tits. They’re so pretty, by the way. So soft and heavy.”

Pussy pulsing, you know he can see the cream overflowing out of you at his confession. You’re already close, driven further and further by every word he uttered, by every reluctant flutter of his lashes, like he doesn’t want to miss a thing.

You need more.

Just a little more and you’ll both get what you want.

“Eat me out.”

“But you said I can’t.”

Back arching, you whine. “I know what I said but if you want me to -ngh!- cum all over your sheets then lick me. Suck on my clit. Fuck! I need it.”

Choso doesn’t need to be told again. He circles his arms around your thighs and wraps his lips around your bundle of nerves, making a nasty slurrrrrp! sound. You both roll your eyes at the same time. The vibrations his satisfied groans make sends lightning bolts up your spine. Oozing more wetness, his mouth descends down to lap up your juices, using his tongue to spread it around. It’s nasty, messy, and so so so good. 

A gasp is pulled out of you when his fingers worm their way inside your pussy at the same time he hollows his cheek to suck hard at your clit. 

“Fuck, you’re so -hngh!- tight inside. I’m too -slurrrrp!- big for you b-but you’ll let me fit it in anyways, right?”

You’ve seen his dick before – he’s big. Huge. Even soft, fresh from the shower, from having jerked off to your dirty clothes, it was still impressive. You’ve also seen his sinful grasp on his hard and leaking cock, albeit just a quick glimpse, when he had purposefully left the door open for you. The dangerous sight had been the subject of many of your self-care sessions; you’ve thought about how hard it’ll be to fit him in your mouth and especially in your pussy, how good all those veins would feel rubbing your walls, how many orgasms that pretty cockhead would pull after kissing your g-spot again and again and again. 

“Tastes so good, you’re -fuck, fuck, I’m close- amazing,” he rambles. Your essence is like a drug, forcing him deeper into madness, until he can no longer tell what he’s even saying. “IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou!”

“FUCK!”

You cum hard. All over his face. All over the sheets. Your legs squeeze his head tight, threatening to suffocate him. He doesn’t mind. He’s still sucking at your clit, pistoning his fingers inside of you, grinding it inside so he can bask in the gooey feel of your gummy walls. “Delicious…could d-die like this…”

A long groan trembles against you. The bed is rocking like crazy and when it stops, so does the spasming of your body. Through his orgasm, he elongates yours, pulling you to the very peak of pleasure. You both come down from your highs, panting desperately. 

"Oh, shit, that was good..." You're delirious, limbs beyond limp.

Shivering, you smack him on the head.

“Choso! S-stop!” He’s still sucking at your clit, making loud squelches. “Enough!”

When you pull him off by the hair, the sight has you clamping down on his fingers; his face is soaked, glistening with your pussy juices, his lips are swollen, cheeks flushed, and his eyes are completely glazed over. Shuddering, he doesn’t fight when you pull away and clamber off the bed. 

The man shakes, hips still humping the bed, driving himself into overstimulation as if on autopilot. His head falls onto the wet puddle, which he mouths at like a fish out of water. “Hmm, more…more…”

Tingling hard, you cup your poor pussy and wince at the soreness you don’t usually get when it’s just you. The asshole really did a number on you. He was lapping up your wetness for his own pleasure, drinking like you're the only thing that sustains him, like an addict finally getting their fill, like life is only now worth living because he had you in his arms, in his bed, held up to his face.

With a sigh, you retreat into your bedroom, leaving him in your combined mess. Emo can clean it up himself.

In the morning, he greets you with a full breakfast spread on the kitchen counter and a beaming smile. Gone are his dark circles, his hair’s tied up neatly, and he rambles about plans for the week like nothing had happened. "We should totally go watch that horror movie on Friday! And then we can have dinner after."

"Sure, but it's on you."

He pouts. "It's always on me."

"Are you complaining?"

Choso grumbles, "No..."

You eat like normal, joking and teasing.

And you think everything’s fine now, that you’ve gone back to the days before, and the depravity you two got up to last night can be stored away along with all the other shameful things that have gone on in the apartment that neither your friends and family, nor his, will ever come to find out. 

But, then he gets up, gathers the plates, gives you a peck on the cheek and asks:

“Same time tonight?”

[kobeniiluvs]

Sometimes reader is a lottttttt mean to satoru even though they're in a relationship. And i feel bad while reading those works i mean he deserves kindness so so SO much. At this point i feel like they hate gojo aughh (this whole thing is my opinion)

[kobeniiluvs]

Mental health status:

[kobeniiluvs]

i will be a multishipper with anyone but these two these mfs were soulmates

[kobeniiluvs]

Love bites .｡*･ﾟﾟ♡

Yuji itadori x reader ☆¤☆¤☆¤☆¤☆¤☆¤☆¤☆¤☆¤☆¤☆¤☆¤☆¤☆¤☆¤☆¤☆

Cw: yuji with fangs(＞。＜), yuji biting reader, lovey dovey fluff

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You were cuddling with your boyfriend after a long mission in his bed, taking a nice deep breath as you ran your fingers through his hair and softly kissed the top of his head. Everything around you two was calm. Still even. And as you close your eyes, you feel his head move, then his mouth open and then, bam. You feel his teeth - more importantly, his fangs, another charming feature from sukuna, the two on top and two on the bottom short and triangled shaped teeth gently pierce your skin.

'Yuji, did you just..." You can't help but chuckle softly, gently scratching his scalp. He didn't say anything, just tightening his arms around your waist, biting your jawline.

It wasn't meant to be anything inappropriate... the sweet boy just found once again another playful gesture of love that he could show you.

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A/n: boom yuji fic! This one is short cause I don't know what to do with it because it was just a cute little idea plus i need to post today but I hope you enjoy!