Wicked Games

airi ✧ 20’s ✧ i've come for blood

[hauntedchoso]

NO LOSS, NO LOVE

i was born in an estuary destined to the sea i was surrounded by pearls that i could not eat, and diamonds that i could not drink

airi ⟡ 20's ⟡ choso's gf

i read fanfiction 99% of the time and write it 1% of the time. very rarely if that 1% produces something good, i'll post it here! i'm a huge post-hardcore/metalcore fan so my fics will often contain musical references. currently not taking requests!

works: groupie love (multi) love is a...(choso)

[yenayaps]

stealing your husband’s chocolate and finding out it was laced with an aphrodisiac!

[content: MDNI, crack smųt, a very unserious piece of work, piv, hair pulling, use of aphrodisiacs, sukuna’s sour but then he’s sweet]

Never in your life have you been so horny it hurt.

“Kuna, please—harder,” you cry out.

“I’m going as hard as I fucking can, you little slut,” he snaps, each thrust matching every harsh word that gets spat through his teeth. “THIS IS WHY YOU DON’T EAT RANDOM. CHOCOLATE. ON. THE. COUNTER.”

“I’m sorry! Fuck!! I didn’t know!”

“There was a note saying DON’T eat it—you just didn’t give a shit because you’re a thief and a glutton. A liar now, too,” he continues to scold you over the chocolate bar he was going to give to Jin so he’d stop groveling over his ex. It’s been 6 fucking months, he’s tired of having to listen to him go on and on about Kaori. Enough is enough—he needs to go out and sleep with someone.

And now Jin’s never going to shut up. Sukuna doesn’t even want to look at you right now—let alone reward your behavior with dick.

“And now you’re cryin’ like it’s my fuckin’ fault.” It’s him who should be crying right now. “It’s simple: Leave my fucking snacks alone. I always get multiples of each so you’d keep your grubby little hands off them. Why can’t you just be normal and go in my wallet?? Fuck—Arch that back some more.” He cracks his palm over your ass. “Yeah, hike it up nice and high.”

“I can’t!” It feels like it’s about to break with all the weight he’s putting on it! Both of his hands pinning you down, burying every last inch of his cock inside of you.

He scoffs, nudging for you to close your thighs, then planting his knees right next to yours so they stay that way. “Do you want to cum?”

“…yes,” you whimper.

“Then fucking arch it.”

You sniffle. “Okay.”

He breaks character and huffs out a laugh as he watches you continue to helplessly stretch and squelch around him, making a creamy mess all along his shaft. He straightens his back, big hands now firmly grabbing your hips as he picks up the pace.

“Yeahh—stay right there,” his chest rumbles as he lets out a low, drawn-out groan. The smack of his hips growing louder, driving himself right into that little spot that won’t stop screaming for his attention.

It has his attention now.

The new angle had you whining into the pillow, absolutely reeling from how good he was at this, despite his complaints. He knows how to be rough. Nearly lifting you off the bed once he starts pulling your hips back, heavy balls smacking against your sensitive clit as he makes you meet each and every rough thrust he delivers.

“F-fuckk!” you choke out, barely able to form a coherent sentence as you start babbling out a bunch of words.

“So fuckin’ spoiled.” He complains, but just barely. “C’mon brat—you’ve been working me like a fuckin’ dog, give it to me already.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He doesn’t believe you. You sound like you’re in heaven right now. “Mmhh—I love you so much.” His scowl deepens. “So, so much—you’re so fucking big.“

“Tch.” He grabs a handful of your hair, then yanks you back until you’re up against his chest, lips grazing your ear while muttering in it. “I don’t want an apology. What I want is for you to cum on my fuckin’ cock already. Or should I just stop?”

“No, no don’t! Please! I’m trying, I swear,” you begin to plead with the man.

“Try harder.” Then he smiled, because he felt you squeeze around him. “Jesus Christ—you need to me talk you through it too? The chocolates supposed to make you horny, sweetheart. Not useless.”

“It’s not my fault,” you whimper, and squeeze around him again, pulling a condescending huff out of him.

“You poor thing,” he hums. “Probably spent the whole day waiting for me to come home so I could make you feel better, huh?”

His breath tickles your ear and you nearly moan. “Mhm—I thought about it all day.”

“Well aren’t you sweet,” he mutters, tone as condescending as ever. “You got what you wanted, too. I’ve been taking care of you for a while now. How many times have I cum in you now?”

“I… I don’t know—“

“Of course you fuckin’ don’t.” He cuts you off, unamused by your answer. “Want me to do it again? Fill you up, make you feel all nice and warm?”

“Please.”

“Give me what I want then. If these sheets aren’t soaked by the time I’m about to cum again, I’m pulling out and finishing on your face,” he lets go of your hair and begins to laugh. You don’t get much of a chance to react before you feel the pads of his fingers on your clit, pulling a gasp out of you once he starts rubbing little circles on top of already fucking you. “Heh—let’s see if playing with this cute little clit saves you.”

And he knows you don’t deserve it—any of it, honestly. Unfortunately, he can’t help himself, not with the reactions he gets out of you. He married you for many reasons—getting to spend the rest of his life with a squirter was one of them. The moment your breathing grows labored and you sound like you’re gonna start to cry, his lids grow heavy and he starts saying all the things he told himself he wouldn’t say today.

"Yeahhh, that’s it, baby—fuuuuck—takin’ it so good.” He is fucking gone. Voice thick, filled with nothing but lust and awe as he presses against your lower belly. “C’mon, you want it here, right? Yeah, you know what to do—don’t let some fuckin’ asshole finish on your sweet little face.”

Yes. Your husband just degraded himself. And you just egg him on without meaning to. You were already whining about how it was too much, the incoherent “want it inside,” just made it better worse.

“I will, I’ll give you so fuckin’ much if you just give me one—just one. Easy. Shit—I’ll fill you up as much as you want afterwards.” He doesn’t know what he’s saying, but that doesn’t matter when it’s what has you crying and trembling and finally gushing around his cock.“Yeah, that’s it. That’s it, that’s—fuuuuck yeah. Good job, sweetheart—good fuckin’ job. Fuck.”

Funny enough, he came right after you, which was a relief because that meant his job was done and he was finally able to give his dick a fucking break after hours of feeling like he was working for free, when he had already worked a regular eight hour shift prior. The biggest relief of all was seeing you lie limp in bed, after slightly worrying if you ever actually would.

He leans over you with a smug smile, already having forgotten how much you pissed him off earlier as he moved some hair away from your face. Checking to see if you’re actually asleep or not, then feeling a deep sense of peace when seeing that you are. He presses a kiss against your cheekbone, and in the most loving way hopes you stay that way because he cannot do that again. Then finally, he gets up to use the bathroom.

The peace is only lasts four steps until it’s completely shattered again when he hears your weak voice.

“Are you ready to go again?”

All rights reserved © 2026 yenayaps. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform. Do not feed my works into ai and do not turn them into chat bots.

[dailyellex]

Fanart of choso kamo from jujutsu kaisen<3

[wineriss]

more chu...

[moonlightengel]

Haven't posted in months, but here's the mechanic Toji I spent forever on.

I don't typically post on tumblr so if you'd like to see updates and more drawings, follow my TikTok _moonlightengel_

[winterrbluess]

Freak

[bbyxdarlinnnn-deactivated202602]

daily reminder: fuck ice. fuck ice agents. fuck trump. and fuck you if you support them.

[toruslut]

18+ mdni

your mind felt hazy as toji slammed his hips into you, his thick, girthy cock stretching you out so deliciously. lewd screams left your parted lips as you felt his leaky tip brush against the spongy spot that made your eyes roll back.

"fuck—jii!"

low, raspy grunts escaped his chest as he threw his head back and grabbed your ass. a few strands of dark hair clung to his damp forehead, and his face contorted with pleasure. he was always so handsy, letting his rough hands roam all over you. he spread your cheeks apart so he could see your pretty pussy gushing around his length.

"shit—haah—arch that back for me, baby."

this was his favorite position: doggy style. toji loved watching your ass jiggle as you arched your back, your face smushed against the mattress, and your hair mussed up.

"toji—feel s’good," you moaned helplessly.

"fucking slut."

he felt your walls clench around him, his hips stuttering as your sweet cunt dripped down his slick length at his words. toji let out a small laugh, clearly amused.

"you like gettin’ called a slut, doll?" toji asked, leaving a loud smack on your ass.

"fuck—yesyesyes" you repeated pathetically. you could feel your body going numb as your mind began to run in circles.

toji reached for your hair, pushing it so you could turn your face to him. his jade eyes were dark as he smushed your cheeks together, admiring how wrecked you looked: black mascara running down your face, drool dripping from your chin and coating his fingers, your sweet half-lidded eyes staring at him with need.

"whore."

this earned you a final whiny, cute mewl. as you gushed and squirted all over his cock, your head fell back onto the soft pillow. you could almost feel toji's grin behind you.

the sound of his fingers suddenly connecting with your skin again, making a loud smack, snapped you out of your thoughts. you turned your head back around to look at him and found him already smiling at you.

"good girl. now make me cum."

.

.

.

another one dj khalid

[cumchiato]

╰┈➤ Toji Fushiguro, but it's those massive hands gripping your throat while he pounds you against the wall, leaving nice handprint bruises that mark you for days while his fat cock stirs up your insides. His fingers squeezing just enough to make your mind foggy and your vision blur as he praises in your ear what a good slut you are, taking his cock so deep.

"Tooojiiii! fuck, i- i can't-hnnnng~ i can't brea-the, i- hah~ p-please-ahn!"

His grip tightens slightly, but he releases it just in time before you can blackout, and you greedily take a few desperate gasps, his cock hitting you so deep you swear you can feel him in your tummy.

"I can feel my dick hitting your womb," he tilts his head back, "going to fuck my little brat so hard, fill your tight pussy full of my cum til' you're overflowing with it. Would'ya like that?

He's grinning, knowing he's got you, and all you can do is nod, mouth open in a silent scream as you cream around him.

[belimah]

甚尔：哟，又见面啦 art by cheng

[rayeprettyass]

DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO DOM CHOSO

[wineriss]

more chocho

[mitchythedrawer]

Choso art

[hauntedchoso]

as an alt girl with tattoos and piercings i always shudder when I read fics involving getting someone’s name tattooed (which is a no-no) or doing sexy stuff with new piercings,,,,,pls, you haven’t given it the 3 month healing period 😭💔

[yotume]

[mimuju]

princess treatment w/ choso ! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

choso is a firm believer that pretty girls like you shouldn’t have to do anything.

it’s not something he’s ever said out loud, not in those exact words, but you see it in the way he kneels at your feet when your evening slippers are pinching, in the way his hands steady your ankles as he slides them off. 

you see it in the careful, reverent way he unties the laces of your dress at night, his knuckles brushing your spine, his breath warm against the nape of your neck.

"cho, i can do that myself," you protest for the hundredth time, reaching for the hairbrush on your vanity. you’ve just returned from a work dinner, your face aching from smiling, your scalp tender from the weight of your responsibilities.

"don't be like that," he says softly, taking the brush from your hand. he’s already behind you, his reflection meeting yours in the mirror. he’s wearing a simple black sweater now, his pigtails undone, but he still looks at you like you’re the only thing in the room worth seeing. "let me help you."

"you’re going to spoil me rotten," you murmur, but you’re already sinking back against him, your eyes drifting shut as he starts working the brush through your hair in slow, even strokes. the bristles scrape gently against your scalp and you make a small, involuntary sound of pleasure.

"that’s the point," he says, his voice low. he sets the brush down and reaches for the cloth and cleansing oil. "you're too beautiful to even lift a finger, baby."

he’s wiping the rouge from your cheeks now, the kohl from your eyes. his touch is so gentle, so methodical, like he’s polishing something precious. you let him tilt your chin up, let him clean away the day’s mask. when he’s done, he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"cmon, bed." he commands. not harshly—never harshly—but with the quiet authority of a man who knows exactly what you need.

you stand, your hand in his, and let him lead you to the mattress. he undresses you slowly, layer by layer, the silk pooling at your feet. when you’re down to your thin shift, he pulls back the covers and tucks you in like you’re something fragile.

"sleep," he whispers.

but you catch his wrist. you’re not sleepy. not anymore. the tiredness has shifted into something else, something warm and heavy low in your belly.

"stay," you plead.

he hesitates. "you’re tired."

"i want you," you clarify, your thumb stroking the inside of his wrist. "but i’m... i’m exhausted. but— but i want you— but i don't want to do anything—"

something dark flickers in his eyes. understanding. hunger. devotion.

"then don’t," he says. he climbs onto the bed, fully clothed, and crawls up your body until he’s hovering over you. "don’t do anything. don’t even think. just let me make you feel good."

"choso—" you start, already feeling guilty, already reaching for the hem of his sweater.

he catches your hands and pins them gently above your head. his fingers twine with yours, pressing your palms into the pillow.

"no, sweetheart." he says, his mouth brushing your ear. his voice drops, rough and reverent. "you don’t do the work. you never do the work. you just lay there, princess, and let me take care of you. let me please you. let me—" he grinds his hips down, and you feel how hard he is, straining against the fabric of his trousers, and you gasp. "—let me do everything."

he releases your hands only to finally pull his sweater over his head. you watch the muscles of his back shift in the warm light of your tablelamp, the old scars, the lean strength. when he turns back to you, he’s already unlacing his trousers, pushing them down, kicking them off.

he kneels between your thighs, his dark eyes raking over you. "open up," he murmurs, his hands sliding up your legs, pushing your shift higher. "be good for me, okay?"

you spread your legs, trembling. he’s already so hard, the pink tip flushed and wet, and he wraps his hand around himself, stroking once, twice, his eyes never leaving your face.

"you don’t even have to move," he says, leaning down, caging you in his warmth. "i’ll do all the work. i’ll get you ready. i’ll make you feel so good. all you have to do is look at me. can you do that for me, princess? can you let me love you?"

"yes," you breathe, your voice cracking. "yes, choso, please—"

he kisses you then, deep and filthy, his tongue sliding against yours in a rhythm that makes your toes curl. his hand slips between your legs, his fingers finding you already wet, already aching. he doesn’t make you ask, nor does he make you work for it. he just pushes two fingers inside you, curling them, stretching you open while his thumb circles your clit.

"that’s it," he praises against your lips, feeling you clench around him. "that's my girl. just lay there and take it. let me get you ready for my cock."

you moan, your head falling back against the pillow. he’s relentless, his fingers pumping in and out, hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision blur. you try to rock your hips, try to chase the sensation, but he stills you with his free hand on your hip.

"no, angel." he says, his voice firm. "don’t move. let me. i want to feel you squeezing my fingers while you just lay there and let me fuck you open."

you whimper, your hands gripping the sheets because he won’t let you touch him. he’s leaning over you, watching your face, watching the pleasure overwhelm you, and his expression is something almost feral. like this—serving you, controlling your pleasure, doing all the labor—is exactly where he wants to be.

"look at you," he breathes, his fingers moving faster, harder. "so pretty. so perfect. you're doing so well, baby. letting me make you cum. can you do that for me? can you cum on my fingers like a good girl?"

"choso!" you sob, the pressure building, your body tensing.

"there she is," he croons, his thumb pressing down. "cum for me, make a mess of the sheets."

you break, your orgasm crashing over you, your walls clamping down on his fingers as you cry out. he rides you through it, his hand moving slower now, drawing out every wave until you’re shaking, boneless, your hair fanned out across the pillow.

before you can catch your breath, he’s moving. he hooks his arms under your knees, spreading you wide, his hands sliding up to grip your hips. he positions himself at your entrance, the head of his cock pressing against your still-pulsing heat.

"now," he says, his voice rough with restraint. "i’m going to fuck you, and i’m going to make you cum again. and again. until you can’t think. until you can’t even remember your name."

"please," you gasp, your hands reaching for him again, wanting to touch, to hold.

he catches your wrists and presses them back into the mattress. "no," he says, his eyes dark. "be good, or i'll stop. understand?"

you nod, dizzy, your body still throbbing.

he pushes in with one long, smooth thrust, filling you completely. the stretch burns so perfectly you cry out, your back arching off the bed, but he holds you down, his grip tight on your hips.

"fuck," he groans, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. "so warm. so tight. and you’re just— letting me use you— shit—"

he starts to move, a slow, deep rhythm that has you seeing stars. he’s doing all the work—his hips rolling, his cock dragging against your sensitive walls, his hands holding you exactly where he wants you. you try to move, try to meet his thrusts, but he growls and pins you harder.

"stay still," he orders, his voice strained. "let me do this for you. you had a hard day. you smiled at people who didn't deserve it. now you just get to lay here and take my cock. that’s all. that’s your only job."

"ch-choso!" you sob, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes. it’s too much, the pleasure, the devotion, the way he’s using his body to serve you. "i love you— hic!— i love you so much—"

"i know," he breathes, his thrusts speeding up, becoming harder, more desperate. his skin slaps against yours, the bed creaking, but he never lets you move. he holds you open, holds you down, fucks into you with a single-minded focus that’s entirely about your pleasure. "and i love you more. god, i love you so much more."

his hand slides between you again, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles. you’re so sensitive from your first orgasm, every touch is electric, overwhelming. you can’t move, can’t do anything but lay there and take it, exactly like he wants, and the helplessness of it, the sheer luxury of being cared for so completely, sends you over the edge again.

you cum with a scream, your walls clamping down on him so hard he chokes, his rhythm faltering.

"that’s it," he gasps, fucking you through it, chasing his own release now. "atta girl. just— shit— i-im gonna—"

he thrusts deep one last time and stills, his cock pulsing inside you as he comes with a broken groan against your neck. you feel the heat of it, the way he spills into you, marking you, claiming you, all while you lay there trembling, his hands still gripping your hips, his weight pressing you into the mattress.

for a long moment, neither of you moves. he’s breathing hard, his chest heaving, sweat slicking his skin. slowly, carefully, he pulls out and collapses beside you, immediately pulling you into his arms. he’s still panting, his heart hammering against your ear.

"okay?" he whispers, his hand stroking your hair again, back to the gentle, domestic touches.

you nod, boneless, drifting. "more than okay," you murmur. "felt so good."

"that’s the point," he reminds you, pressing a kiss to your temple. "pretty girls like you shouldn’t have to do anything."

you smile against his chest, your eyes already closing. "then i guess i’m just going to have to let you do it again tomorrow."

[mimuju]

brat taming with choso ! 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 in which you refuse his princess treatment !? (smut)

you’re on one knee in the hallway, fingers fumbling with the laces of your left sneaker, when you hear choso’s footsteps stop behind you.

“princess?” his voice is soft, confused. “what are you doing?”

you glance over your shoulder. he’s standing there in his usual black hoodie, hair loose, brows drawn together like you just announced you were moving to another country. you finish the knot, double it, and stand up.

“tying my shoes,” you say, brushing your hands off on your jeans. “we’re gonna be late if we don’t leave soon.”

he blinks. “i always do that for you.”

“yeah, well.” you grab your bag from the hook by the door. “i can do it myself today.”

choso doesn’t move. he just watches you, quiet, like he’s trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces. you’re already reaching for the doorknob when he finally speaks again.

“did i forget something?” he asks. “did i do something wrong?”

you pause, turn around. his face is open, genuinely worried, and it makes your chest twist. “no, baby. you didn’t do anything wrong. i just… wanted to do it myself this morning.”

he nods slowly, but the crease between his brows doesn’t smooth out. “okay.”

you make it all the way to the kitchen before he appears again. you’re standing at the counter, pouring cereal into a bowl, when he stops in the doorway.

“princess,” he says again, softer this time. “i made you breakfast already. it’s in the fridge. the good yogurt. the one with the strawberries you like.”

you look at the bowl in your hands, then at him. “i know. i just felt like cereal today.”

he stares at you for a long moment. “you hate that cereal.”

“it’s fine.”

“you said it tastes like cardboard last week.”

you sigh, setting the bowl down. “choso, it’s okay. i can make my own breakfast. you don’t have to do everything for me.”

he doesn’t argue. he just watches you eat three bites of the cardboard cereal before you give up and push the bowl away. he doesn’t say anything when you grab a banana instead. instead, he keeps watching, quiet and thoughtful, like he’s cataloging every small rebellion.

by the time you’re in the car, he’s still quiet. his hand rests on your thigh like it always does, thumb stroking absent circles, but his mind is clearly somewhere else. you don’t push it. you just let the silence sit between you, warm and familiar.

he doesn’t ask again until you’re home that night.

you’re in the bedroom, changing out of your work clothes, when he appears in the doorway. he’s been home for an hour already—long enough to shower, long enough to make dinner and leave it covered on the stove. but he doesn’t mention any of that. he just leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you pull a t-shirt over your head.

“sweetheart,” he says, and there’s something different in his voice now. lower. “come here.”

you turn. he’s still in the doorway, but his eyes have that look—the one he gets when he’s been thinking too hard about something and finally decided what to do about it. you cross the room slowly. he meets you halfway, his hands finding your waist, pulling you in until your chest is pressed to his.

“you’ve been doing everything today,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your temple. “tying your shoes. making breakfast. carrying your own bag. i didn’t stop you. but i need to know why.”

you rest your forehead against his collarbone. “i don’t know. i just wanted to feel like i could handle things. without you doing everything for me.”

he’s quiet for a moment. then his hands slide down to your ass, gripping you firmly, lifting you until your legs wrap around his waist. he carries you to the bed like you weigh nothing, laying you down on your stomach, his body already covering yours.

“you can handle things,” he says against the back of your neck, his voice low and rough. “i know that. but you don’t have to.” his hands are already working your jeans down your hips, yanking your panties with them. “you don’t have to do anything when i’m here. that’s the point.”

you feel him shift behind you, hear the sound of his zipper, feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance. he doesn’t wait. doesn’t tease. just pushes inside in one slow, deliberate thrust that has you gasping into the mattress.

“choso—”

“shut up,” he snaps, his hand pressing between your shoulder blades, pinning you harder. “you wanna act like you don’t need me? fine. but you’re gonna take this cock like its the only thing you need.”

his hips snap forward, burying him deeper, and you moan, your fingers fisting the sheets. “you were so fucking stubborn this morning. tying your own shoes like i wasn’t right there. making that shitty cereal like i didn’t already have something ready for you. what the fuck was that?”

you whimper, your body rocking with every thrust. “i just—i wanted—”

“you wanted to be difficult,” he growls, his hand sliding around to your clit, rubbing tight circles that make your thighs shake. “you wanted to prove something. but look at you now. face down, ass up, dripping all over my cock because you can’t even pretend you don’t need me.” his pace is brutal, each thrust punching a moan out of you. “say it. tell me how badly you need me.”

“i- i need you,” you gasp. “cho, please—”

“that’s right,” he pants, his voice dark and mean. “you need me. you need me to fuck you like this because you can't make yourself cum as good as i can. but you’re still my good girl, aren’t you? my perfect little princess who just needed to be reminded who she belongs to.” his fingers work faster, his cock hitting that spot inside you with every thrust, and you’re so close you can barely think. “cum for me. cum on this cock like the needy slut you are. show me how much you need it.”

you cum with a broken moan, your walls clenching around him, your body shaking. he fucks you through it, his pace relentless, his hand still working your clit until you’re sobbing into the pillow. only then does he let himself go, his hips stuttering, his cock pulsing as he fills you.

he collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his breath hot against your neck. for a long moment, neither of you moves. then he rolls off you, pulling you into his arms, his hand stroking your hair.

“now,” he murmurs, his voice already thick with sleep. “are you gonna be good and let me take care of you?”

you press a kiss to his chest, your body still humming. “okay.”

he kisses the top of your head. “atta girl.”

wife : @sadisticslut666

perm - @whorishminds @throatgoatgeto @go-go-gadget-autism @thecrazyfangirlthings@grignardsreagent @strawberryshortcakkitty @naammiii @liasacountgothacked @annicishana @my-starlights @error-racoon-404 @afreakforyautja @cupidstrace @iam-souless@sindulgent666 @chewiebee @tojisballhair @ex1acy @palanggaaa@yourlocalcatscammer @ehcilhc @gravecyte @restingoasis @satorupi@laburantesdoll @sxpernova @thethyri @lostgeto @lilytrn @mikaari0 @chososballhair @nanamissilkytie @iwasabs @tojis-juicymantitys @laitifly @farylfordaryl @bl1ndv3lvet @booboobear-12 @6arcxm @sleeplessdancer @chloeee20 @deartoru @neptunezxx @ash273819 @sketchbonked @vanillakirstein @valberryboos @itimisu @livviaaaaa @kebablover @babyluvlol @audreytoru @silverwfern @lynf1n1ty @0-kry