ᰔ your inexperienced boyfriend bleeds when you kiss him?˚‧⁺･˖
⤷ choso melts when you kiss him and doesn’t even realise he’s bleeding all over you.
you're choso's biggest blessing.
he makes a point to remind you every day of the way you make him flourish, feel safe and painfully loved despite his half-curse origin and his indisputable inexperience.
he really tried to hide it, though it bled through his stammers and stutters when he asked you out on a date for the first time and when you held his hand– eyes shining –thanking him for the sweet picnic date he'd organised. and it was especially obvious when he stiffly thrusted a hand-picked bouquet of flowers into your chest alongside a neatly written note (the eighth draft) and asked you if he could be your boyfriend.
ever since then, he's convinced himself that for the first time, the universe had been on his side and took pity on him, allowing him to feel unconditional love from a sweetheart like you. even if he didn't know the first thing about intimacy or how to be a boyfriend.
you understood– of course you did. never pressured him into anything, only took his hesitant, brief pecks with a sweet smile and a fleeting kiss of your own to his nose where his blood mark stains the pallid skin.
he's been on his umpteenth replay of this memory when he groans aloud, brows pinching together. he runs a hand through his hair and gracelessly undoes the pigtails, allowing it to fall over his face.
five hours.
if choso wanted to be precise, he'd say you've been gone five hours and thirty-eight minutes. something about a friend's birthday get-together you so desperately had to attend, leaving him bored and girlfriend-less at your place.
that's five hours and thirty-eight minutes of sighing incessantly, laying in your bed to smell the remnants of your perfume, using your favourite cutlery as he eats lunch alone, and staring at your last message on his phone promising to come home soon.
should he text again? no, yuji mentioned girls hate that. should he just wait? it’s unbearable, really—
he's on his fourth aimless lap around your apartment when he hears the keys jingle outside and the door push open. and like a moth to a flame, choso suddenly finds purpose and pads over to the door.
you're there, beautiful and his, slipping off your heels with a soft huff and neatly setting them aside before lifting your head. a smile tugs at the corners of your lips, urging him to mirror the gesture, albeit shyly.
you’re so pretty. he loves what you’ve done with your makeup. so shiny, oh he loves you.
"hi, cho!" you beam, now turning to slip your jacket off, hang it up, empty your purse— and choso soon finds himself walking towards you to snake his hands around your waist without thinking. he tugs you back into his chest, hands sprawled over your stomach, squeezing faintly at the flesh.
you drop your purse on the counter, twisting in his arms to face him. his brows, if possible, have furled further and his pupils are dilated nearly entirely.
"cho?" you murmur softly, wrapping your own arms around his neck. "is something wrong?"
"you were gone for a while."
"you knew i would be."
"i missed you." he frowns further when you laugh, tilting his head down to look at you. consequently, his hair falls over his eyes a little, having freed it from the signature pigtails it's always in.
"cho, i wasn't even gone long." you coo, tucking his hair behind his ear with an amused smile, fingertips brushing an earring.
"five hours and forty minutes."
you laugh again, soft and airy, a sound he'd gladly exchange a sense to hear indefinitely.
"okay, cho, i’m sorry."
"you don't need to be sorry, i hope you had fun." he murmurs, tilting his head down to brush a brief kiss to your hairline. "what did you do?"
yeah, he'll ask. maybe your rambling will take the fact that he wants to kiss you off his mind.
"mm, we went to a really fancy restaurant! it had a cute bar too and—oh, the bathrooms were super pretty! my friends and I managed to get super pretty pictures, remind me to show you! anyway, we had dinner, then—”
he's listening. well, he was at some point, but now he's on his tenth non-committal hum while he guides you to your bedroom to help you wind down as you continue your storytelling.
you giggle, unruffled in the slightest, and stop in your tracks. that earns you a confused hum, choso mirroring your movements and halting.
"hm? carry on."
"you're not even listening."
his eyes widen imperceptibly and suddenly his hands are sweaty. is this the start of your first argument? are you mad? oh, god, are you going to dump him because he was too stuck in his fantasy of kissing you that he didn't reply?
"i-i was." he manages to mutter. "i’m sorry. you said something about mirror pictures?"
"yeah, five minutes ago."
he's sweating profusely now. and just when his lips part to come up with another weak response, you can't help but giggle.
"cho, i’m not mad. i was rambling, anyway. what's on your mind, though?" you hum, taking his hand and swinging it as you pad into your bedroom.
choso's not a liar. so, he confesses, but as quietly as humanely possible.
“…”
you hum again.
"huh?"
"said i wanted to kiss you." he repeats with a soft groan, the tips of his ears growing a bright red.
you stop and smile. god, you’ve done a lot of that tonight.
you don't even think twice. you stand on the tips of your toes and cup his cheeks, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. choso grunts, half-surprised and half-fuckingfinally, placing a hand on your waist to return the favour.
although, when you pull away, he leans back in, his other hand cupping your cheek to guide your face to his again. you don't even deny him, you kiss him back happily, sweet presses of lips with an undercurrent of messiness only an inexperienced choso can offer.
he gives a soft whimper when he feels your tongue prod at the seam of his lips, ears growing hot at the implication. was it an accident?
you walk him back against the bed and climb into his lap, and he audibly gasps. you take advantage of the airy sound, slipping your tongue into his mouth and deepening the kiss just slightly.
choso's jaw falls slack, his lips trying desperately to meet you halfway. his head feels heavy and far too hot and he's dizzy, everything's fuzzy and blurred and he can't even feel his hands on your waist anymore–
you feel a drop on your cheek. then again, on your nose. instinctively, your nose scrunches and you pull back thinking he's crying again like he did with your first kiss.
to your surprise, he's bleeding. the blood mark on the length of his nose is dripping down his own cheeks and nose in slow, small rivulets and his eyes are blown wide. he sniffles. doesn’t even notice it’s him.
"babe? are you bleeding?" he panics a little, swiping the blood off your cheeks with his thumbs before he feels a trickle down his chin.
"no, its you! cho, you're bleeding!" you yelp, reaching over to the bedside table to grab a box of tissues, pressing three to his nose. "are you okay?! what happened?!"
now, his entire face is red and you can't tell if he's blushing or if he's about to bleed from every facial orifice next.
he lifts a hand to his face, sliding a fingertip down the bridge of his nose and down the subtle bump you love, collecting a smudge of blood. he starts to wipe his nose with the tissues.
"s-sorry, i lost control... i didn't think that would happen." he mumbles, covering his face with one hand while the other cleans himself up, desperately willing his technique to fix itself. he should ideally only be bleeding at will, he knows this.
"oh my god, you scared me!" you squeak, watching as his blood mark stops bleeding.
"s-sorry, i guess i got too caught up," he apologises, embarrassment laced in his words. he presses a kiss to your nose, wiping your cheeks until clean.
you sigh, cupping his cheeks and letting your eyes run over his face to ensure he won't bleed all over you again. when satisfied, you nod, letting your hands drop to your lap, your smaller body still perched on his thighs.
"okay. I'm not kissing you until tomorrow. to be safe.”
choso's jaw falls open and his eyes widen comically.
𓊆ྀི warnings .ᐟ + word count—5.0K, ORIGINAL!BLACK!FEM!READER! southern domestic vibes!, husband!toji, shyblack!femreader, blackwife!reader, ranchmen!toji, gritty!toji, southerncoded!femreader, southerncoded!toji, aggressive!toji, dominant!toji, gruff!toji, sweet!toji, size kink!, pet names!baby!love!, pussy eating!, face slapping!, 69!, riding!, sex after work!toji, aggressive sex!, dick sucking!, squirting!, creaming, condomless sex, minors aren’t welcome! 𓊇ྀི
メモ。— been in a deep depression + ‘was missin’ my number one, my man, my lover, my only in another lifetime. this was inspired by a lil’ tik tok made by @scrumptious_chowder—i can’t seem to find the specific link for the video i saw, i think she might’ve deleted it? but if you see this, babe. this one’s for you. love your content + all the nasty thoughts in your head. @chrollohearttags ? love you baby. teehee. enjoy.
IT WAS ONE OF THOSE DAYS.
One where talking your husband off the verge of a crash out wasn’t enough—but fucking it out of him made it all complete. Sweeter, somehow.
The evening sun spills honey gold through lace trimmed windows, casting delicate shadows across the yellow bricked backsplash of your kitchen—your sanctuary.
The air smells like yeast and the faint citrus of lemons piled in your farmhouse sink—natural light streaming in soft, golden pools across the Tuscany checkered floors. Your fingers, dusted with flour, press into the supple dough, kneading with practiced rhythm, the marquise cut pale gold band on your left hand catching the warmth with every movement. French tips glint against the raw, pillowy mass, your wedding ring a quiet testament to the life you’ve built here—far from the noise of New Orleans, in a house he built for you with his own calloused hands.
The vintage radio hums low, crackling with updates between New Orleans and Mississippi, the announcer’s voice a distant murmur beneath the rustle of your Persian kitten—Yumi’s—fur as she nudges the radio with her tiny, impatient head. You glance up, dark lashes fluttering, and reach over to twist the volume knob down.
“Too loud, baby?”
Yumi answers by leaping gracefully onto the vintage dining table behind you, stretching her fluffy body into a perfect arch before collapsing into a loaf, her purrs filling the quiet kitchen like a melody.
“…I guess so,” you hum softly.
Your kitchen was made with more love than his proposal, more intention than the ring itself. The single bowl sink overflows with lemons, limes, and a single stray peach, their vibrant colors bleeding into the muted tones of your oasis.
The curtains flutter, carrying the scent of distant rain and turning earth—his scent, soon. The house breathes around you, every nail driven by his hands, every brick laid with the weight of his promise.
“Ain’t gonna let nothin’ touch you ‘cept me.”
You and Yumi share the same untamed spirit—both of you all flickering tails and sharp, watchful eyes.
Your face, sultry as a fox, intense as a panther mid hunt, holds the kind of beauty that makes men pray before they dare to speak to you. Slender eyes, naturally dark waterline like you were born with kohl rimming them, framed by full, wispy lashes that give you an air of mischief—almost wicked, even when your soul is nothing but sugar. Deep pink lips, their edges kissed by a natural brown halo, part just slightly as you exhale, your large, arched brows lifting in amusement at your feline counterpart.
That wild mane of yours—deep copper melting into cinnamon, black balayage curling like tendrils of smoke—is tossed messily over your head, a single stubborn curl swaying against your forehead. A constellation of dark freckles dusts the bridge of your wide nose, the warmth of your ochre complexion glowing beneath the golden kitchen light.
“You’ll look no different in pregnancy," his voice rumbles in your mind, "Glowin’. Red. Fuckin’ perfect.”
You narrow those eyes at Yumi, who chirps at you like she’s got a whole argument prepared.
“Daddy’ll be home soon," you murmur, thumb stroking the edge of your sourdough loaf before setting it aside to rise—“…You think he’ll like dinner?"
The scent of New Orleans hangs heavy in the air—shrimp and andouille sizzling in a spiced roux, red beans simmering with a bay leaf tucked between them, and buttery cornbread waiting to be pulled from the oven. His favorites. The kind of meal that’ll soothe every ache in his body, warm.
Yumi answers by rolling dramatically onto her back, paws curled, tail flicking.
“Yeah—you’re no help."
The soft hum of the radio wraps around you as you lose yourself in the rhythm of cooking again, fingers dancing over ingredients with practiced ease. The music plays just a hair louder now—enough for Yumi to shoot you a withering glare from her perch, her tail flicking in disapproval. You ignore her with a little smile, your voice a gentle murmur as you hum along to the tune, the melody curling around the warm, spice laced air.
Then—the growl.
The deep, guttural rumble of his pickup truck tearing through the gravel drive is a warning, a proclamation—he’s home. Your spine straightens before you even realize it, ears attuned to the familiar sequence of his arrival—the creak of the screen door, the slam, the heavy thud of boots being kicked off near the welcome mat.
Except today—silence.
No boots. No pause. Just the hurried, uneven thud of his footsteps, heavier than usual, more urgent. A shiver races down your spine, instinct flaring before you can even turn—
And then him.
Big. Encompassing. Swallowing you whole.
His heat presses into your back, rough hands gripping your hips like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. You don’t need to look up to know his expression—you feel it. The tension coiled in his muscles, impatient huffs against the curve of your throat.
“You scared me,” you whisper, voice trembling just slightly as your fingers lift, clawing back into the wild strands of his hair—midnight black, nearly blue in the dim light. It’s longer now, unruly, a messy tangle between a wolf cut and a short mullet, the front nearly falling into his eyes. Your nails scratch lightly at his scalp, and he exhales sharply through his nose, his apology a low, graveled grunt against your skin.
“‘Couldn’t get to you fast enough."
You know him.
His anger, his irritation, the frustration clings to him like a second skin. It seeps into you like ink in water, dark and suffocating, a storm barely contained beneath the surface. Your body responds before your mind can catch up—arching back into him, your pulse fluttering beneath his touch.
That’s when your hands shift, turning you just enough in his grasp to catch his gaze—and the moment you do, the world narrows.
Those eyes.
Deep gray, like storm clouds rolling in over the pasture, narrowed and restless beneath the weight of his scowl. His brows—thick, dark, almost severe—are knit together, tension carved into the space between them. At thirty two years old to your twenty nine? The years have only sharpened him, etching his features with an intensity that makes your breath catch. A full blooded Japanese man raised in the heart of the South, he’s a walking contradiction—heritage and home clashing in the best ways.
And today, every inch of him shows it.
Dust clings to him like a second skin, ground into the fabric of his filthy wifebeater, streaked across the navy and black flannel rolled up to his forearms. His tattoos—a sprawling canvas of ink swallowing his egregiously broad frame—peek out from beneath the dirt, the edges of them smudged with the day’s labor.
Head ranchmen. Raising livestock. Wrestling miles of fencing. Hauling hay, operating machinery, fighting with the land and the heat and the men under him who can’t keep up—it’s all written across the stars. His muscles are still coiled tight, his jaw working as if the frustration hasn’t fully left his bones.
And yet, god, he’s yours.
The scent of him—sweat, leather, and something wild washes over you, a pheromone laden reminder of exactly who you belong to.
You reach up, thumb smoothing gently between his furrowed brows.
“You okay?”
He exhales sharply, "M’alright. Always doin’ this, woman. Thinkin’ I’m about to cry."
A laugh bubbles in your chest, but you press closer instead, fingers trailing down to cup his jaw.
“My soul’s with yours," you remind him, tilting your chin up despite the height difference—“I know when you’re sick before you do—"
He grunts at that, but there’s no real irritation behind it. Instead, he ducks his head, nudging his nose against yours in a rare moment of tenderness, the gesture contradicting every rough edge he wears so well.
Toji’s head dips low, those storm gray eyes scanning you with the kind of focus that makes your pulse flutter.
You stand there in white fuzzy socks, swallowed whole by the oversized replica of his flannel—the deep blue of it sharp against your caramel skin, sleeves slipping past your wrists, the hem hanging dangerously high on your thighs.
And as your husband, he knows what’s beneath.
The way your waist cinches in like a damn hourglass, unnaturally narrow compared to the flare of your hips—so wide, so heavy it looks like you’ve carried a child before. The ass that fills his palms perfectly, fat, jiggling with every step. And those tits—full, heavy, sitting high like they belong on a sultry pin up poster. His name—Fushiguro—in tiny cursive beneath the curve of your left breast, a claim he never gets tired of seeing.
Your fingers drag gently through the hair at his nape, nails scratching lightly as you murmur, “Yumi missed you.”
His thumb swipes over your bottom lip, calloused and rough—“‘Momma missed me too?”
You nod, just slightly, tilting your head with those fox eyes of yours—narrowed, knowing, stripping him bare of any lie he could try to spin.
“Tell me what happened at work.”
His brow twitches, “You tellin’ me?”
You don’t argue. Just raise your brows, waiting.
A beat. Then, with a sharp exhale, it spills—
“Men actin’ like goddamn children. Argued with me ‘bout the fence line—then one of ‘em nearly flipped the ATV ‘cause he wasn’t payin’ attention. ‘Whole damn day wasted fixin’ other people’s—” His voice deepens, slipping into sharp edged Japanese, “…Nande kon'na baka-domo to issho ni hatarakanakya naranē nda? Mattaku, kuso jikan'nomudada.”
Why the hell do these idiots work for me? Total waste of fuckin’ time.
You stand on your tiptoes, pressing your thumb between his brows again, smoothing the crease there as you answer him—fluent, just like he taught you.
“Son'nani ikatteiru to, fukeru no ga hayamarimasu yo.”
You’ll age faster being so angry.
He pauses, nostrils flaring—before he lets out a sharp exhale, forehead dropping against yours.
"...Goddamn, woman. ‘Always knowin’ how to shut me up.”
You hum, pressing closer.
“So that’s why you keep me around?”
“Nah. Keep you ‘cause you’re mine.”
You hum, fingertips tracing the corded muscle below his neck, your touch featherlight.
“Did talking about it help?"
His jaw flexes, “You want me to lie?"
“I’d rather you be honest, Fushiguro.”
A rough exhale escapes him, “I’m on the news tomorrow? ‘Know I killed one of those bastards."
You know he doesn’t mean it—but the frustration is real, simmering beneath his skin like an untamed storm. So you tease just a little, trying to loosen the tension coiling in his shoulders—“Fussier than a baby, ‘swear."
That gets you a glare—"Nowhere near a damn child."
You react before he can pull away, fingers tangling in the dark strands of his hair, holding him just firm enough to ground him.
“Hey," you murmur, voice softening, “I was just pokin’, love. Yeah?"
He stares down at you, that perpetual scrawl of his features more habit than anger now. After a beat, he nods.
You press on, voice a gentle lull.
“Rough days are inevitable…but there’s your favorite meal to look forward to. And cuddles from me an’ Yumi."
His expression doesn’t change.
"Or," you offer, tilting your head, “I could rub your ear ‘like you like?”
Something shifts in his gaze then—dark, heavy. He looks at you—really looks. That sweet, sultry face he’s seen crumble beneath him, twist in pleasure, pout in frustration. It all hits him at once, a wave of something possessive and hungry that makes his fingers flex against your waist.
And in response?
“Yeah."
A single word. Deceptively simple.
Because you did rub his ear, sure—but what you didn’t expect?
Was ending up bouncing stupidly on his cock in the process.
Now, here you are—hair a mess of copper, cinnamon, and black curls, wild like a halo around your flushed face, the flannel hanging open, barely clinging to your shoulders. The fabric dips, revealing the sinful swell of your tits, the heavy weight of them barely contained by the parted material. Your fuzzy socks—adorable, ridiculous in contrast to the filth of this moment—curl helplessly into the bedsheets as you struggle to steady yourself.
Your thighs ache, burning from the relentless pace he’s set, but you barely feel it. Not when he’s got his hands wrapped around your waist, his fingers so big they nearly touch when he grips you—effortlessly hauling you up, then slamming you back down, forcing you to take every inch of him.
“F—Fushiguro—!"
You choke on his name as he pulls you all the way up, the slick length of him just about to slip free before he yanks you back down, letting his dick carve straight into your g-spot with every punishing thrust.
And the worst part?
He hasn’t even undressed.
Leaned back against the vintage headboard, still in his dirt-streaked wifebeater—tugged halfway up to reveal the hard planes of his abs, ink-dark tattoos trailing down the cut of his V-line. The roughness of his pubic hair grinds against your clit with every brutal snap of your hips, the friction almost too much, threatening to push you over the edge before he even lets you.
And his face—
Dark brows pulled low, storm gray eyes locked on you with an intensity that borders on cruel. He watches you with that same scowl, like you mean nothing to him in this moment—just a warm, trembling hole for him to use, fucking you with ruthless precision.
He leans back, the muscles in his arms flexing as he lifts you again, dragging you down onto his cock with a sharp snap of his hips.
“C’mon," he growls, voice rough with restraint—“Keep fuckin’ feelin’ me.”
You’re silent—trying to be—but your pussy isn’t.
Loud. Obscene. Creaming around him in thick, slippery pulses, gushing with every brutal snap of his hips. The sound of it—wet, filthy, shameful—fills the space between your ragged breaths. Your lips stay pressed together, but your expression betrays you—eyebrows pinched, a cute little frown twisting your face as pleasure burns through you, sharp and unforgiving.
Discomfort. Overstimulation. The kind of pleasure that hurts, that makes your toes curl and your stomach clench. Because god, the way he stretches you—thick, unrelenting, carving into you like he was made to ruin you.
The worst part? He knows.
Knows that in places where you’re soft, silent, observant—here, like this? You’re a mouthy little thing when he gets you there. Which is exactly why he cocks his hand back, fingers tangling in the back of your flannel, yanking you down harder on his cock before—
SMACK.
The sharp, stinging crack of his palm against your ass echoes through the room, your flesh jiggling from the impact, the heat of it blooming fast.
“Ain't hearin’ shit from you," he growls.
“C’mon. Gimme’ somethin’.”
The rough clap of your thighs against his hips—hard, frantic, skin slapping skin—does something to you. Your eyes flutter shut, your fingers sinking into his forearms, claws digging in as a whiny little cry punches out of you.
It’s a domino effect afterwards. A whimper slips free, trembling, desperate, and then another—another, slurring into heavier, broken whines, like you’re trying to swallow them back every time they threaten to escape. But you can’t. Not when he’s like this—when his thighs are so thick, his grip so bruising, when he makes you fuck him like he hates you.
“There it is,” he grunts, fingers tightening around your waist, hauling you down harder, heavier.
“‘Know my wife more than anyone in this fuckin’ world.”
You're an eye-rolling, pouting, mess.
His mess. Your pussy keeps gushing, clenching forcefully around the thick swell of his cock, kicking off a series of unfinished, half-shattered orgasms that leave you spiraling—dizzy, overwhelmed, ruined.
Tears brim your dark, pretty eyes, lashes sticking together as broken little whimpers spill from your lips.
“I'm—‘M cumming.”
But Toji? He doesn’t stop.
His grip tightens, digging into the softness of your hips as he finds a devastating new rhythm. Slower now, but heavier. Louder. Each deep, punishing thrust drags a wet, filthy sound from where you’re stretched around him, the slap of skin echoing through the room.
And the scent of him—god.
Woodsmoke, leather, the erotic musk of a hard day’s work still clinging to his clothes, swallowing you whole even as he lounges beneath you, lazily using your body to chase his own pleasure.
“Wanted me to feel better, ‘ain’t you?"
His palm lands against your ass again—hard—the sharp crack reverberating through your bones before he spreads you open with that same rough hand, exposing your flushed, dripping cunt as he starts fucking up into you with renewed force.
“Gonna fuck you ‘til every nut makes me less angry," he grunts, fingers biting into your flesh—“Had a hard fuckin’ day, remember?"
You lean forward, sniffling pathetically, nodding in meek submission—like you’ve lost a game you never even meant to play.
“Okay," you squeak, voice surrendering, small.
His teeth flash in a wicked grin.
“Atta fuckin’ girl."
And then he takes—pounding up into you with a brutal pace that has you muffling trembling little moans into the crook of your arm, body jolting with every deep, claiming thrust.
Toji slides his broad palm against the top of your head, fingers threading through your curls as he tilts your face up to meet his heavy-lidded gaze.
“You here with me?"
You nod, and that's all he needs before he tugs you forward by your hair, sealing your mouth with his in a deep, tongue-filled kiss. It's filthy, possessive, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip before he pulls back just as swiftly.
And then—SMACK.
His palm meets your cheek with enough force to make your breath hitch, just sharp enough to snap you back into focus.
“Fill your fuckin' mouth up.”
You sink down instantly, taking him between your lips with breathless little whimpers, your lashes fluttering as you suck him in deep. You pull back just enough to kitten lick along his length, teasing the flushed tip before swirling your tongue around it. Then lower—sucking his heavy balls into your mouth, your fingers lightly jerking the base of him.
It's adorable in the most pathetic way—how easily you obey when you're usually all quiet fire and defiance. But like this? You're truly his.
Toji watches as you work him over—his cock glistening with your spit, your lips stretched around him. Then he takes himself in hand, slapping his length against your flushed cheek, dragging it over your lips with a filthy, wet sound.
“Look at you," he grunts, voice rough with satisfaction.
And he does look—drinking in the sight of your dark, caramel skin flushed raw, your pretty eyes swollen with tears, your lips parted and trembling. It makes him crave more.
“C'mere," he growls suddenly, gripping your waist before flipping you both in one swift motion—your back now pressed to his chest, his thighs bracketing your head as he maneuvers you into a 69.
The second you're settled, he buries his face between your thighs with a groan, his tongue devouring you. You gasp, trying to refocus, wrapping your lips around his cock again—but it's impossible to concentrate when he's sucking on your clit like he's starved, his tongue dragging hot and wet through your folds, slurping obscenely. Your hips jerk, back arching as pleasure zings through you, your forehead dropping against his hip as you whimper around him.
“Focus, baby.”
He mutters this against your cunt—right before his hand comes down on your ass again, the sharp SMACK making you jolt. A broken moan slips past your lips, and then you're bobbing your head faster, hollowing your cheeks as you suck him back into your mouth with desperate, sloppy devotion.
And Toji?
He just feasts—grunting, licking, taking—his fingers digging into your hips as he fucks his tongue inside you, making sure you feel every second of it.
You don’t stand a chance.
The air is thick with the sound of skin on skin, your breath ragged and wet as you lose yourself in the rhythm of him. You move without thought, drunk on the taste of him, the weight of him on your tongue—both palms wrapped tight around the base of his cock, jerking him from root to tip in slow, filthy strokes. Your tits bounce with every movement, swaying heavy and lewd as you work him over in a way that’s downright pornographic, your body moving like it was made just for this.
Toji’s hips twitch, his breath catching when you suddenly take just the head of him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the swollen tip while your small hands take care of the rest. His head knocks back against the headboard with a low groan, his voice rough, strained, as he mutters something under his breath—half curse, half praise—before his hand comes down again, another sharp SMACK landing on your ass.
“Edge of the bed. Now.”
You crawl there on shaky knees, face pressing into the blankets, ass up—presented, waiting—and before you can even brace yourself, he’s sinking into you, stretching you open in a way that punches a muffled whine from your throat. His fingers tangle in the nape of your hair, tugging just enough to make your back arch as he yanks you back onto him, filling you to the hilt with a single brutal thrust. Your face stays buried in the blankets, lips pouting, muffling little whimpers and breathless complaints—but they’re weak, half-hearted, lost in the haze of pleasure as he starts moving, fucking into you with rough, measured strokes.
“Fussin’ just like Yumi," he growls, voice thick as you tuck your face deeper into the sheets, hiding the way your cheeks burn.
“Tch—feet closer to your chest.”
He rasps this, voice gravel-scraped and impatient. You whimper but obey, knees pressing tight to your body, hips lifted higher—exposed, helpless. Then, in Japanese, sharp and commanding—
“Jibun no handan de ugoite kudasai.”
Move on your own.
And you do.
At first, it's slow—tentative—your hips rocking back and forth in small, uncertain motions, your body arching as you try to find the right angle. The sight of you like this—spread open, trembling, taking him—is obscene. Erotic in the rawest sense.
His fingers snap once, sharply. Another order, another growled phrase—“Head up.”
You just obey, lifting your face from the sheets, breath ragged as you look back over your shoulder at him.
“If you don’t move, I’ll show you how I wanna’ be fucked.”
You pout—lips trembling, eyes wet—but then you start moving again.
Little bounces at first, your ass clapping lightly against his hips—gentle, testing. Then deeper. Faster. More. Until you’re fully fucking yourself on him, your body taking over, driven by instinct, by the need to please. His fingers tighten in your hair, holding you in place as you pant, as you whimper—
“…M’sorry, baby."
It slips out without thought, weak and breathless.
Toji only grunts, “Yeah?”
You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for. But you say it again, lips quivering.
“M’sorry—"
You’re squirting.
A hot, sudden gush, spilling around him without warning, your body convulsing as pleasure rips through you. The words turn into something else—deep, shuddering sobs, your voice breaking as you keep repeating it, "M’sorry, m’sorryyy...”
Your husband? He could care less.
Toji fucks you through it. His grip on your hair tightens, his hips snapping up to meet yours as you sob, as you tremble, as you fall apart.
Because this? This is how he takes his anger out.
The world narrows to nothing but the brutal snap of his hips, the sound of skin meeting skin in sharp, wet slaps. Toji yanks your legs out from under you, planting your feet flat on the floor—forcing your spine into a deep arch, your ass tilted up just right for him to sink into you even deeper, each thrust punching the air from your lungs.
You can’t help the noises that tear out of you—loud, broken, punched out moans that rise higher with every merciless drive of his cock. His fist tightens in your hair so everlasting, wrenching your head back as he growls above you, the sound rough and satisfied—because nothing pleases him more than hearing you unravel, your voice frayed beyond coherency.
Your fingers clutch at the sheets, knuckles white—until he tsks, a single sharp sound of disapproval that has you scrambling to correct yourself before he can fuss. Arms straight back, wrists together, like you know what he wants without him even saying it. His free hand wraps around both your wrists in one brutal grip, pinning them against the small of your back as he drives you into the mattress, fucking you so deep you squeal, high and desperate, your body jerking beneath him.
“Fuckkkk…!”
It’s a shriek, really—raw and guttural, your cunt gushing around him as he pistons in and out, his grunts syncing with your cries in a filthy, primal rhythm. He’s not gentle. Not close. Every snap of his hips is punishing, claiming, his cock dragging against that sweet spot inside you until you’re keening, your thighs shaking, your mind gone beneath the sheer intensity of it.
And then—
His rhythm stutters.
A deep, guttural growl rips from his throat, his fingers tightening hard in your hair as he buries himself to the hilt, spilling inside you in thick, pulsing ropes. Your sounds drown his—whimpers, choked cries, the way your body clenches around him as if trying to milk every last drop.
For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of heavy breathing—his, yours—both ragged and uneven.
Then he slowly pulls out, leaving you limp beneath him, your lower body trembling, your nerves still alight with aftershocks. Toji catches his breath for a beat—just one—before he leans down over you, his voice rough but soft now, murmured against your ear in Japanese.
“Daijōbudesuka?”
You alright?
His hand cups your throat from behind, tilting your face toward his. And then—kisses. Tiny, chaste pecks against your swollen lips, one after another, as if checking that you’re still with him.
You let out a breathless little giggle, your lashes fluttering.
“Mmm...legs feel numb."
He hums.
“They should.”
The moment his hands twist you around, your breath catches—but it melts into another light giggle as he scoops you up effortlessly, depositing you onto the bed like something precious. The sheets are cool against your overheated skin, a stark contrast to the burning imprint of his body still lingering on yours.
And then he looks at you.
His fingers slide through your hair again, slower this time, almost reverent, before his mouth finds yours in a kiss that’s startlingly gentle. You nudge your nose against his, affectionate, lingering, before you pull back just enough to murmur—
“…‘Gonna have a better day at work tomorrow?"
Sweet. Hopeful.
Toji rumbles, the sound vibrating deep in his chest as he presses a kiss to your forehead—“Already havin’ a better day now."
Your eyes dilate at that, lashes fluttering as you whisper—"Really?"
“Murder’s still in question for ‘them employees, though.”
Your face falls immediately, lips pressing into a pout as you sigh, long suffering. Before you can protest, his palm lands on your thigh—a light, teasing smack—and then he’s pushing off the bed, leaving you sprawled there. You scramble to grab his discarded flannel, draping it over yourself like a makeshift shield before flipping your hair back with an exaggerated huff.
“You’re hardheaded!”
“Got a hard head, baby.”
You suck your teeth.
But then? he reappears in the doorway, Yumi cradled in his big arms.
The whiplash of it nearly gives you an actual headache. One second, he’s got you bent over the bed, fucking you like you owe him money, and the next? He’s holding that Persian kitten like it’s spun glass, cooing at her in a voice three octaves higher than you’ve ever heard come out of his mouth.
You roll your eyes so hard you swear you see your own brain.
“You don’t talk to me like that.”
Toji ignores you, of course. Because why would he ever acknowledge the way your metaphorical tail is swishing back and forth in irritation? He’s too busy booping Yumi’s tiny pink nose, murmuring, “Momma’s the fussy one, isn’t she? Yeah?"
“Boy, please. I don’t win the hot head award. You’re an overachiever for that score."
He just smirks—smirks!—as he sets Yumi down on the bed, watching with that stupid, smug expression as she prances toward the headboard like the little princess she is, tail held high as she lets out a dignified Mrrow.
One second you’re lounging there, all sass and post coital glow—the next, he’s on you, knocking you flat onto your back in the sheets with a oomph that dissolves into breathless giggles as you shove at his chest.
“Go away!"
He doesn’t.
“You know how much I love you?"
You tilt your head, pretending to think.
“Not sure."
The air between you shifts—just for a heartbeat—from playful to something deeper, something heavier. His rough fingers catch yours, and he brings your hand up, pressing a slow, almost reverent kiss to the gold band on your finger. Against the metal, he murmurs something low and raw—something that sounds suspiciously like—“Mines forever."
You sigh, but it's a warm sound, your fingers curling around his, intertwining like they were made to fit there. Playfully, you squeeze.
“Hungry?"
He exhales through his nose, “Been thinkin' about those red beans all day."
You bat your lashes, feigning innocence.
“I wasn't part of the meal plan?"
His thumb drags over your pulse point as he leans in, breath hot against your ear, “You were the meal plan."
Then, just like that, he's hauling you up—one arm under your thighs, the other bracing your back as he tosses you halfway over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. You yelp, but your legs lock around his waist instinctively, arms looping his neck as he starts moving.
“C'mon. I'm starvin'."
You press your lips to his jaw, nipping just to feel him tense—“You're starvin’, and you love me?"
He grunts—but for him? It’s not a denial. It’s yes, a thousand times over.
And just like that, the scene fades—into the quiet hum of domesticity, into love and passion and marriage with all its rough edges and sweet, stolen moments.
Husband!Nanami: Who is the literal embodiment of chivalry, always insisting on opening your car door, walking slightly in front of you in big crowds, pulling your chair out at restaurants. Everything he believes the man should do for his wife he’s doing tenfold.
Husband!Nanami: Who hates having to leave for work every morning, cuddling you in bed as he grumbles on and on about just staying home today.
Husband!Nanami: Who spends his workday fantasizing about coming back to you, imagining how you're eagerly waiting for him.
Husband!Nanami: Who never takes out his stress on you, not allowing himself to come home irrationally angry.
Husband!Nanami: Who swears by your cooking, preferring your home cooked meals over the food at the fancy staff dinners he gets dragged to.
Husband!Nanami: Who carries a quiet weight of guilt every time he steps out the door, overcompensating for his long hours by spoiling you relentlessly the moment he's back.
Husband!Nanami: Who spent half his life obsessed with money, only to realize it was who he shared it with that really mattered.
Husband!Nanami: Who can’t keep his hands off you when he’s around, one lingering on your waist pretty much at all times
NSFW Warning!!
Husband!Nanami: Who lets you tug him by his tie straight to the bedroom, only to gently take it off and use it to bind your wrists together.
Husband!Nanami: Who always talks you through it, whispering praises in your ears with every thrust, making sure you’re feeling just as much, if not more, pleasure than him.
Husband!Nanami: Who insists on only doing positions where he can see your face, holding steady eye contact as he completely dismantles you.
Husband!Nanami: Who pulls your hair when you're being bratty, holding you exactly where he wants you.
Husband!Nanami: Who always makes sure you finish first.
Husband!Nanami: Who hates working but loves providing for you.
obsessive!sukuna notices the instant someone drifts too close to you, like a wire pulled tight inside him. Even across the room, his attention snaps to you, crimson eyes tracking every inch of space between you and the stranger. He doesn't bother pretending like he’s not watching every interaction between you and the stranger. He STARES, like he’s memorizing the threat.
obsessive!sukuna doesn’t trail after you like a shadow. He’s too smart to hover over you all the time; he knows it will give him away. Instead, he shows up exactly when he wants to be seen, like he’s been there the whole time. You turn a corner, and boom, there he is, like his ass has been there the entire time. Leaning up against a wall like he was waiting for you specifically, eyes fixed on you with that sinister smirk. He doesn't blink, he doesn't look away, he just watches. “Out here alone?” he asks, his voice low, almost sultry. The slight smirk on his face makes it obvious that he already knows you are. He always knows.
obsessive!sukuna lovessss when you talk back to him. Everyone folds when he stares, but you? Never. You roll your eyes, you snap back, you meet his sharpness with your own, never backing down. It shouldn't thrill him the way it does, but it does every single time.
obsessive!sukuna always seems to sense the moment you’re uncomfortable. You never have to say a word. One second, you’re trying to get yourself out of a conversation. The next thing, he’s there standing at your side like he was waiting for his cue. His presence alone shifts the air. The other person stiffens and suddenly becomes unsure. “Problem?” sukuna asks, voice lazy and drawn out. But there’s a razor- thin edge beneath it that makes it very clear that the only answer is no.
obsessive!sukuna gets PISSEDDDD when you ignore him. Not anger, just a deep annoyance he doesn't care to hide. You walk right past him without a glance, pretending you don't feel his eyes watching your every move. A moment later, you feel a hand catch your wrist, pulling you to a stop. Sukuna looks at you with a smirk, “Running away already? I thought we were having fun?”
obsessive!sukuna never understands why anyone would think they have a chance with you. The MOMENT someone has the balls to ask if you're single, you hear him laughing behind you. Loud enough to make the question die on their tongue. A hand settles on your waist, firm and unmistakably possessive. “You should try to pick easier battles,” he says, like he’s trying to give friendly advice. His eyes flick to you for a second before cutting back at them sharply, “this one is already mine.”
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚
a/n: ugh sukuna will always have a special place in my heart w his fine self. i also didn’t proofread this either so js ignore if something doesn’t make sense LMFAOO
Summary: You’ve had a crush on the emo boy on your campus for awhile now. You always flirt with him in class but he never makes a move until you spot him at a party and decide to take your chance.
WARNINGS: p in v, cream pie, some degrading, sum choso, soft dom choso, eating out, riding, cunnilingus
Choso is the hot emo boy you’ve been crushing on for months. On the first day of your college class, you saw him, and your heart thumped. He was sitting in the lecture room earbuds in, scrolling on his phone. Not even looking up at anyone else. You sneaked into the seat beside him and promptly introduced yourself.
Quickly he came to know you. You’d come into his work asking him to unlock the jewelry case every time, getting jewelry for your belly button piercing and the cute miniskirts they had. Always flirting with him up at the cash register until his boss yelled at him to get back to work.
“Hi choso!” You always say to him when you sit down in class next to him or pass by him on campus. He’ll mumble a “hi” back, black hair falling over his face, one ear plugged up by his wired headphones. Black leather spiky bracelets decorating his wrists with ripped jeans and a band T-shirt that you can’t read at all what it says.
“How was your weekend?”
He looks up surprised you’re still talking to him, “Hm? Oh- uh good,” he coughs his eyes darting around you, the floor, the table, your shoes, the pink sparkly notebook, and pens you have lying on the desk, but never at you, “How was yours?” he attempts mildly at conversation.
“Oh good! I went shopping with some friends and went to this-“ and you continue blabbering on about your weekend and other things, while Choso listens and nods with his other ear delighted in guitar riffs, and screamo music until the lecture started.
Choso thinks your polite hi’s and you're talking to him is actually you secretly making fun of him. Probably giggling and laughing to your friends behind his back about the emo kid who looks scary and depressed. He’s heard it all, and he’s seen your type before, instantly thinking that you thought he was just some loser that you could make fun of.
But he is so so wrong. You have the biggest crush on him. Sure, you are both opposites, you're pretty in pink tracksuits, rhinestones, glitter, and Juicy Couture. He, in black, eyeliner, leather cuffs, ripped jeans, band tees, and chains. You think he is so hot and he just never seems to catch your hints.
Those low-cut tops that have your hot pink bra, poking out all for him to see. You, bending over in front of him while you wore the tiniest skirt you had. The many times you would go out of your way to say hi to him or talk to him. He never sees the signs you throw at him, well he barely ever looks at you. Too nervous, too shy, you’re just too pretty for him to look at.
All because Choso too has a big crush on you. Despite what he initially thinks, your sweetness and bimbo personality win him over. He replays the interactions with you over and over in his mind till it makes him foggy and unable to focus on whatever he is doing. He stalks your Instagram and shamefully strokes his big pierced cock to your photos. Specifically, those bikini ones you took over spring break. And the reason he can't look at you is that he’s too afraid he’ll get a boner, when he makes eye contact with that pretty face, or your big tits spilling out of your bra.
But girls like you don't go for guys like him. Maybe as a joke, or a dare. He’s had that happen before in high school. So he keeps his mouth shut, ignores your advances, and keeps to himself like usual.
Until one night at a party, you spot Choso. Leaning up against the wall alone, red solo cup in hand, piercings shining in the low light, wearing silver chains around his neck and baggy jeans. You tell your friends you’ll be right back and make your way over to him, slipping through all the bodies of people.
“Hi Choso!”
Your sweet voice draws his attention up, as you stand in front of him, “Hey,” he immediately looks down, noticing the way you’re dressed. Bedazzled micro denim shorts, hoop earrings, a cute pink crop top, sparkly necklaces dangling in the cleavage of your breasts, and to top it all off a bright pink thong resting on your hips, poking out from your shorts.
You prop yourself against the counter next to him, swirling the drink in your hand, “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
He scratches the back of his head, “Oh-yeah I don’t usually go to these things,” he honestly doesn’t know why he’s here. Some frat guy invited him while he was standing in line at the cafe and was hella bored in his room so he thought why not. And maybe he wished he was gonna expect to see you here.
You giggle, “Yeah I’ve never seen you before at any of the parties,” he shrugs, and awkwardly nods. You smile and move closer to him, “You here with anyone?”
His pierced eyebrow raises and he glances at you, “Um…no- why?”
You smile, “Oh nothing! Was just wondering y’know. I didn’t wanna steal you away from anyone.”
He stammers, and his brows pierce together, “Oh-uh yeah.”
Your gaze falls over him again looking him up and down. He’s got a band tee on like usual, something unscripted you can’t read, like usual, especially with the light fog that envelopes the room. Then you notice his arm, his thick muscly tattooed arm that’s usually covered up by a long sleeve or hoodie.
You let out a little gasp, “I didn’t know you had tattoos!”
“These?“ he points to the ones on his face, slightly confused.
“No! No! The ones on your arm. Can I see them?”
His eyes widen and he is both confused and shocked at the sudden interest in his tattoos, “uh sure.” He holds out his arm and your long acrylic nails reach out and slowly trail up and down his arm, tracing his tattoos, leaving lingering marks that ignite like fire on his skin. His tattoos are a mix of intricate black detail of skulls, quotes, and wisps of ink warping around his arm.
He watches as you rotate his arm back and forth, your big eyes battering and gazing at each one like they were master works of art, and to you they were.
“You like 'em?”
You look up and bat your thick lashes at him, “Yeah, do you have like a sleeve?”
He lifts the sleeve of his shirt and shows the rest of his fully tattooed sleeve, while simultaneously showing off his big bicep and shoulder, making your pussy throb, “I also have a back tattoo and some others.”
You bite your bottom lip and look up at him through your fake lashes, taking your chance now, “Maybe we could go back to your dorm and you show me?”
Choso looks down, realizing what you were implying, and thought he must be getting pranked, but the way you were looking up at him; your tits pressing together, your lashes fluttering against your cheek, your lip caught between your teeth. How could he say no?
You were both now at Choso’s dorm, legs thrown over the expanse of his thighs. Arms around his neck, tits firmly pressed up against his chest. Your tongues inside each other’s mouths, trashing against each other in heated breaths.
“Mhm…” you moan right into his mouth, tongue swirling around his as your pretty pink lip gloss gets smeared all over both of your faces.
You pull off his lips with a pop, a string of saliva connecting them. You run your thumb across his bottom lip, tracing over his snake bites, “Did I ever tell you how cute you are Choso?”
He blinks, eyes wide. His brain is malfunctioning, “Uh…maybe.”
“Well, you are,” you giggle, pressing a kiss to his neck, “So handsome,” your thumb continues tracing his lip. Fingers cascading down to his jaw and neck.
That giggle goes straight to his already hard and throbbing cock. He twitches when your wet plush lips press to his neck, and you move against his lap. He places his hands on your waist trying to still you, so you don’t feel the large tent poking up through his jeans.
“You know I’ve always liked you Choso.”
His eyes go wide and he looks at you drawing his attention away from his boner, “W-what?-“
You pull off of his neck and look at him, “Yeah. Come on don’t tell me that you thought I was just being friendly.”
“I-…I thought you were making fun of me.”
You gasp and throw your arms around his neck, pressing yourself to him even tighter “No! Oh my goodness, why would I do that?”
He looks away, feeling embarrassed now that his feelings are coming to light, “Cause usually girls like you don’t go for- yknow emo guys.”
You let out a prissy little scoff, “So?”
“So I just- thought like you were making fun of me, or it was just all a joke.”
Your lip juts out, putting on a little pout, “You never realized I liked you?”
“No…” he said shamefully, rubbing the back of his neck. His cheeks heat up as your stare settles into him, unraveling him piece by piece till he’s nothing left with his heart open to the world.
You bite the inside of your cheek and look up at him, “Do you like me?” you say softly.
His faint blush turns red, and he can barely bring himself to look at you, “Uh-…yeah. I liked you since you started talking to me that first day of class.”
“And you never said anything?”
He shook his head, “Nah.”
Your pout deepens and you bring his eyes to meet yours, placing a hand on the underside of his chin. He bites on his snake bites, looking into your pretty glimmering eyes that look at him like he’s hung the fucking moon. How can any guy resist you, “You really should’ve…wouldn’t have wasted all this time,” you say tilting your head.
He sighs, and his grip on your waist tightens, “M’sorry.”
You smile and press a tender kiss to his lips, “It’s okay Cho. You can make it up now,” you say in that sultry voice that makes his dick throb. His bulge looks like it’s going to rip a seam in his jeans. Your gaze trickles down to it, unable to ignore the tension of it poking from underneath you, “You want me to help you with that?” eyes wide and big and beautiful, smiling so sweetly. He wanted to cum right there.
You were already moving to undo his belt and jeans. Choso stammers “You- don’t have to, I-“ God why is he selling right now? He mentally curses at himself. You put on that adorable pout again, that's really starting to become a problem.
“Do you not want me to? If not then-“ your long nails scratch up and down his neck, producing a full body reaction, shuddering down his spine.
“No-no I want you to.” He quickly backtracks, eyes wide staring up at you. A desperate look is painted in them, the light in his eyes shining with stars.
You smile, get up off his lap, and start to properly unbuckle his studded belt and throw it to the side, moving to tug his pants and boxers down to his thighs.
He groans as his cock springs out, pretty tip flushed, leaking pre-cum, and black piercings running along the lines of his long thick shaft.
Your eyes widen into the size of dinner plates, mouth morphing into an, “O” shape. You didn’t expect him to be packing all of this.
Your thighs press tightly together, breaths drawn tight, pussy soaking that slutty little thong snugged in between your cheeks.
Choso sputters and clamps up, “If you don’t wanna- it-it’s fine. You don’t have-“
“Oh. my. god,” the words finally find your mouth, each word pounces out like a ball, thumping down on the ground. Choso stares at your face. Eyes glimmering, cheeks flushed, lips curving into a big smile.
“God you’re so big,” You instantly go down on your knees, smiling bright as you wrap your hand around his cock, fingers not even meeting each other to fully wrap around. Choso’s heart drops to his stomach and he sits up, bringing his hands to your face.
“I don’t want to hurt your pretty throat,” Any other time Choso would love to see you take his big cock in your throat, but not now. Now he just wanted to see what was hiding in those shorts. What that thong was snuggled into. God, he can’t count how many times he’s fantasized about kissing, licking, and eating away at your pussy. He can’t wait any longer.
You look up at him all rosy and dazed, blinking confused, “But-“
“Please, let me eat you out,” Your eyes go wide, but not a single complaint comes out of your mouth. You get up off the floor and move to settle in between his thighs as his hands come up to your thighs. He can’t pull away as he watches you tug down those cute denim shorts, discarding them somewhere on his floor.
You give him a little show, turning around and bending over so he can see the way your pussy, and ass eat your thong up between your flesh, “You like that?” You shake your ass right in his face. His eyes follow the jiggle of flesh move from side to side.
“Fuck-“ he mutters under his breath and grabs big handfuls of your ass, spreading your cheeks apart so he can see the hot pink thong soaked in your juices.
He moves your thong to the side and spits right into your hole, watching as the spit glides down your folds. He’s enamored, you’ve got the prettiest pussy he’s ever goddamn seen. Better than any of the pussies he watches online. He sticks a finger in, watching as your hole sucks and clenches around his thick finger.
“So greedy…” He turns you around and motions you closer. Leg propping up on the bed, cunt fully exposed and displayed in front of him like a gourmet meal. He runs two fingers through your slippery folds; cold silver rings catch on your clit, sending shivers through you. His other hand trails up your body, pushing up your crop top over your tits, and squeezing the pad of your bra.
“You want this off?”
He smiles and clicks his tongue, “Please,” you reach behind you, unhook your bra, and slip it off.
He grins like a puppy having a treat dancing in his face. He hums and squeezes your tit, rolling your nipple between his fingers, “Ah!” You yelp as he pinches your pierced nipple.
“Didn’t know you had these pierced…” he mutters, his eyes unable to turn away from the pretty pink nipple piercings.
You giggle, “Got them done on summer break, aren’t they pretty?”
“Oh…very pretty.” He pinches them again and latches his mouth around one, sucking and lapping his tongue over your pierced nipple while his hand explores your pussy. Two fingers pushing into you, exploring your tight gummy walls that suck in his fingers. You let out a soft slutty moan that makes his fingers curl to that G-spot.
He sucks your tit, feeling the nipple harden in his mouth as he sucks and pulls on it with his lips. He pulls off with a pop, and gives it one last pinch before he gives his full attention to your awaiting pussy that’s gushing around his fingers.
“Fuck-“ he removes his fingers, causing you to whine from the loss of contact. “It’s okay,” he says softly and grabs your waist, bringing you closer, kissing your lower tummy, and midriff.
You feel his mouth inch closer to your heating core. The cold metal of his snake bites, leaving cold tingles to linger on your skin. He presses a big sloppy kiss right to the heat of your cunt, making you whine, and firmly has to plant your foot onto the bed; toes curling into the sheets.
“Fuck you’re so sweet,” he stares up at you with a glaze over his eyes, like he’s induced by the sheer smell and taste of you. Like a man being drunk under a love potion.
“Cho-“ you start, but are cut off by your own loud gasp as he dives into your pussy. Pressing his face fully into you, tongue out, lapping, sucking, and swallowing every ounce of your juices, eating you whole like he’s been starved, and depraved of food. Stupidly greedy and sloppy.
You grab at his hair, trying to steady your balance, pulling and tugging but to no avail to make him let up. He might as well be actually eating you, “Oh my-fuckinggg—shiiiiit!”
His hands tighten their hold on your waist, one hand creeping down and smacking the fat of your ass, making you jolt and your clit bump against his nose.
“Choso baby? o-oh oh my god-“ you whine, his face is covered in you, his nose, mouth, cheeks, and jaw. Your slick even dripping in droplets down to his neck. Your neck creeps up with a beet-red. Cheeks the color of a tomato as you feel embarrassed by how good he’s making you feel. Making you a slutty mess. A knot coils deep into your stomach and you gasp, panicked, “Choso! Choso M’gonna- shit…sto-stoooo I’m gunnaaa c-cum.”
He doesn’t even answer just hums against your cunt and keeps eating, keeping his hold on you, tight and firm to where you can’t squirm or run away. Completely entranced, under the spell of slutty bimbo pussy.
“Shit- I’m-“ you tug on his hair as you fold over. Heat, rising all through your body as you squirt all over his face.
You try desperately to push him away but he latches onto you like a vice. Slurping and gobbling up all of your juices you squeeze out. He moans deep into your pussy, deep rich voice sending vibrations through you. Your hips buck up into his face as he sticks out his tongue, letting you use him as a toy to rub your greedy pussy all over his face. And he couldn’t be happier.
Your legs shake and buckle, barely able to hold yourself up as he continues to slurp you up, now sucking on your clit, watching the way his jaw ticks and slacks.
Finally, you grab his face, pulling him off your cunt, and forcing him to look up at you. And god, it’s the prettiest sight you’ve ever seen. His eyes are hazy with a shimmering filter over them, his lips swollen and red, his cheeks burning and flushed, his entire lower half of his face, and his neck drenched in you.
“You taste so fucking good,” he tumbles out.
A blush creeps up to your cheeks, warmth spreading through your chest. He’s just so sweet, “A-aw thank you.”
He smiles big, looking up at you with those big dark eyes with his pupils in the shape of pretty pink hearts. God you wanted to rub your pussy all over his face again. But you remember his hard aching cock lying on his lap, those black piercings dancing up his shaft just waiting for your gummy walls to slide into.
You lean down and toy with the hem of his shirt, “Wanna see those pretty tattoos you were talking about.”
He blinks, coming back to reality with your sweet sugary voice, and nods. Stripping off his shirt, raising it over his wide back and over his head. You can’t help but gasp when you look and see the expanse of his chest and the rigid lines of abs that decorate his torso. Along with the black inky tattoos that trail up his arms, and over his back, including some that are on his chest and ribs. You feel yourself gush out another flood of slick.
You bring your leg down and place your hands on his chest, pushing him down onto the mattress and crawling onto him. His poor cock so neglected and unused with beads of pre cum leaking from his tip down his Jacob’s ladder, twitching against his thigh.
“God you make me so horny Cho…” you giggle, blushing at the sheer size of his cock. You straddle his hips, his tip nudging at your entrance.
Choso curses under his breath and hesitantly places his hands on your waist. He looks up at you, red creeping up his neck as he looks down at his thick cock just waiting to sink inside you, “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure!” You say, not fully taking in how big he is.
His eyebrows pinch together, and worry conflicts through his face as you slowly sink onto his cock without another word. He lets out a shrill and low whimper, grinding his teeth together as he feels your tight slippery walls mold around him.
You sink to the hilt, his cock snuggly resting inside you, pulsating and twitching already, “Mmgh- so fuckin’ big-“
His hips stutter and jerk into you by accident, “A-hah I’m sorry m’so sorry…”
You yelp and plant your palms on his chiseled abs, “A-ah! Fuc-“
Choso is about to start apologizing and pull out, when you suddenly smile and start to roll your hips, tipping your head back as you begin to ride him.
And by the stars in the sky. He has to hold on for dear life, eyes wide and panicked, hands gripping your hips as your sugary sweet moans fill the air with your ass harshly smacking down onto his pelvis.
“Fu-cckk…” he groans low at the base of his throat, messy dark hair covering his forehead and sticking to his sticky cheeks from your arousal.
You’re a damn sight to see as you ride him, tits bouncing up and down, those pink nipple piercings taunting him. Back arched and legs on either side of him, ass smacking down and jiggling with each bounce. And your pretty face in ecstasy at the movement of your hips slurping up his cock, “O-oh it feels so’good- mm’good.”
His cock hits right into that G-spot, brushing against your cervix making your eyes roll back without command. Cock so big you feel that stretch that has your legs already shaking and pussy quivering.
“Am I-hurtin- you?” He asks, but your whole body language is the exact opposite of being in pain. You’re in sheer bliss.
“N-no not at all, your cock feels-so good…so’good I-fuckin love it,” He smiles shyly.
From your view, Choso also looks like he’s completely intoxicated. His pupils are blown out, getting completely drunk on the feel of your tight pussy around him. The sight of a bimbo doll like you riding him, and to top it all of the sound of your precious moans filling the room. So loud and sweet. His dorm floor is absolutely going to kill him.
Your pornographic moans make his cock twitch with each one that tumbles out of your throat. Sweet syrupy moans just like your voice like perfection in a bottle. He wants to have them on video, so he can play them over and over.
It’s almost all too much for him, you’re riding him soooo good, like such a greedy slut. Desperate for his big cock, letting it fuck right into your cervix, “S-shit.”
Your dumb fucked out mind grinds and gears, gearing a shift that only opens up your legs more. You plant your feet on the bed and use his body like a board to slam your pussy down onto him.
“Fa-fuck!” He moans, tightening his grip on your hips to the point where his knuckles go white. He gasps, reduced to whining and sputtering helplessly as the new angle and pace heighten his senses, “I-I can’t! M’gonna- Slo-slow dow-“
You whine and pout, shaking your head, “No you can do it babyyy, please? B-be good for me-a-and take this pussy.”
He groans and throws his head back, eyes rolling into his skull. He nods, “O-oka- okay…”
You smile and blow a kiss at him, making him melt, “You feel s-so good, having your big cock fuck me…mm d-don’t cum yet okay?”
His head lolls to the side and gives a small nod. He looks down and groans at the part where your bodies interlink. There's a thick gush of cum creaming his cock, each bounce sending sputters of it, plopping onto his thighs and your ass, “M’god you’re such a-whore…creamin- me so’much.”
You let out a shrill chuckle and clamp down on his cock, feeling the cold, hard piercings against your walls, “Mm am I a whore Cho?” You run your nails down his chest, sending shivers down his spine, making his hips buck up into you.
“Y-yes yes your suc-gh a fuckin whore- riding me so good…holy shit. Y-you’re so good at this,” he pants, “O-oh…your- squeezing me, ah-hah-“ his breath hitches between words.
“Yeah? You- gonna—cum?”
He nods vigorously, squeezing your hips, “Y-yes oh shi-shit M’gonna cum-“ He whimpers loudly, unabashedly.
You lean down and give him a brief kiss on the lips before you lean back up, “I wan-t you- haha to cum insiiideee…me-“, you say pushing down on his hips.
He’s sputtering moans and whimpers out from his mouth, whining at the restraint of his hips, “b-but-“
“W-want your creamy cu-m to f-fill me up.”
His eyes go half lidded, mouth a gap, muscles tensing, unable to pull out “g-gonna c-cum inside you…”
Your hands slip and he bucks up, slamming into you with a deep sloppy thrust that makes his cum shoot right into your womb. You clamp your legs around him and throw your head back, letting him fill you up to the brim with his cum. He grabs your waist and starts fucking you back onto his cock, prolonging his orgasm and producing yours. “C-Cho m’fuck! T-too much!”
You gasp as you feel yourself cum and spasm over his dick, legs shaking and trembling, pussy clamping tightly around him, making him let out a loud pathetic whimper.
Choso’s head dances in circles round and round till he’s too dizzy to think. Slowly he pulls you to him, slipping out of you with a quench. His cock and thighs are now covered in creamy white cum, his piercings non-existent in the layer of white that coats him.
You both pant, heads dizzy. Bodies shaking, and coming down from the extensive high. He tucks you into his chest, wrapping his big arms around your waist and another just below your ass.
His voice is shaky as he looks down at you, “Y-you okay?”
You bring your head up, tilting your head to the side to look at him, “Oh, I’m more than okay.”
He sighs, bringing a hand to your head and stroking your hair, “So…y-you actually like me?”
“Yeah…I literally sat by you every day, always say hi when I see you, and come into your work almost every week-“
“But…am I even your type?”
You tilt your head, that little brain of yours racking in confusion. “Well, what does that matter?”
Choso thinks maybe you didn’t understand his question so he reforms it, “Are you into me-?”
“Choso. I literally just let you eat me out, bounced on your cock, and let you cum inside me.”
He stills, his ears turning pink. Okay, maybe he’s the dumb one, “Yeah, good point,” embarrassment filling his face.
You laugh and kiss his cheek, “Next time can I suck your dick? I wanna feel what those piercings are like on my tongue,” you say with a mischievous glint in your eye.
“…Next time?”
You nod, smiling placing a hand on his chest, “Yeah. Next time.”
Choso is such a clingy little baby and he can’t go even a few measly hours without his pretty girlfriend
Tags: fluff
Update: thank you guys for 700 likes!! MWAH
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Sitting at a cafe with your friends, your conversation is interrupted when you feel your phone buzzing in your pocket.
“Sorry, it’s Cho, I gotta take this.” Your quickly answer the call, bringing your phone to your ear.
“What’s up baby?”
“can you come home…”
His needy and quiet voice is heard on the other end, making you crack a smile at his behavior.
“Are you serious? I’ve only been gone for like, an hour and maybe a half.”
Your hear a small sniffle, not enough to make you think he’s crying, but enough to make you realize just how deep his attachment to you was.
“That’s like, forever though… and I miss you.”
His desperate voice fills your ears, and you glance across from the table to your friends that are giving you a not-so-subtle concerned glare.
“Did he burn the house down?” One of them says, before getting elbowed in the side by the other.
“Baby, give me 30 more minutes and I’ll be home in a flash.”
You hear him whine.
“Choso.”
The hairs on the back of his neck stand up when you call him by his name. Not Cho, not baby, but Choso. The sound alone was like nails on a chalkboard to him.
“Fine…” he groans, not wanting to make you even more mad.
“Thanks Cho!” You beam, flashing a grin.
-
When you arrive home, after accidentally spending a whole 2 hours with your friends rather than the 30 minutes you told your boyfriend you would spend with them, you find Choso curled up on the couch scrolling on his phone.
The sound of you opening the door and putting your keys down make him practically hurl himself off the couch and into your arms.
He’s on you in a second, and you haven’t even kicked your shoes off.
“I missed you so much, it feels like you enjoy torturing me at this point.” He has his face in your neck, tightly wrapping his arms around your waist. “I’m so sorry,” you sarcastically say, “I got caught up in a conversation, and before I knew it, 2 hours had past.”
You can feel the glare that Choso is digging into your neck right now, but you ignore it and cup his face, planting a chaste kiss on his lips.
“My poor boyfriend can’t go 3 hours without me.”
He rolls his eyes and scoffs, picking you up and carrying you over to the couch.
Placing you down softly, he can’t help but plant kisses all over your face and neck.
“Sorry-“ kiss, “I-“ kiss, “love” kiss, “my girlfriend so much-” kiss, “that I can’t handle being away from her-“ kiss.
After every kiss you couldn’t help but slowly let out more and more giggles, the tingling sensation of Chosos lips making you smile.
“Ok ok, I get it. From now on, you’ll stick by me forever and ever.” You say in a mocking way, but he ignores it and keeps planting kisses all over you.
“Next time, I’m coming with you.”
“That would ruin the whole point of girls night.”
“Nuh uh”
“Yuh huh”
“Nuh uh”
“Yuh hu-“
And before you can finish your poor rebuttal (if you could even call it that), Chosos captured your lips into a desperate kiss.
“Doesn’t matter, I’m just glad you’re with me now.” He snuggles up next to you on the couch, pulling a blanket over you both while you gently tangle your fingers in his hair.
“I’m still coming along next time.” He says, and you can’t help but crack a scoff.
You broke up clean. No names, no explanations, no closure. Now he’s back… Watching your stories, haunting your sidelines, asking questions he’s terrified to hear the answers to. You were never really done with him. And he was never strong enough to let you go.
4.6k words
Part of the ''Exes who cant stay away'' series
Toji
warnings: sub/switchy!plug!choso, ex!bf!choso, captain of a basketball team female!reader, fake non-chalant Choso, mentions of weed/ Choso smoking it, jerking him off, him fingering you, creampies, squirting, dick riding, car sex, desperate/ pathetic Choso, overstimulation, crying Choso, pussy drunk Choso, manhandling, boob sucking, choking
‘’So did you or did you not sleep with him?’’ he whispered, inches away from your face. You could feel his breath on you as he exhaled, the smoke of the weed he was smoking grazing your lips. Earlier that day, during basketball practice, your friends spoke about something interesting while stretching. Everyone seemed to be in a relationship or was getting there with someone. Finally, your last single friend announced she would finally confess her feelings to her crush. The whole team cheered her on before the conversation focused on you.
You had hoped they'd forget you. But no. Every day, every single day they'd ask you if you had finally met someone. All the asking and nagging drove you crazy but they just cared about you. They were concerned. Deep down all of them knew you weren't really over your mystery ex. They had never seen him, nor heard a name. You liked keeping your business to yourself. It got to a point they thought you had made him up or were schizophrenic. When you two broke up a few months ago, you arrived on the court, bawling your eyes out for hours. It seemed like you really liked him. So they backed off when you told them to drop the topic and get to work.
On the court, you felt free. The only thing on your mind was making points, throwing the ball, dunking it. You could turn off your brain and soul for a few moments. It was like your body was moving on auto pilot and your brain was on stand by. Like a breeze if fresh air on a hot summer day.
You loved it.
‘’Well done everyone!’’ you spoke when your coach gathered you all together. After going over the game plan for the next day, you guys were free to leave. And you were the first to run into the locker room. Your friends knew something was up with you. You were acting weird and secretive. Well, more than usual. Before changing, you stared at your phone, making sure you weren't running mad. Making sure you weren't seeing things before practice. You checked your phone and there it was. A message from him.
After you two had broken up, you hadn't attempted to reach out to him. He didn't either. Your pride was just too high. He was too. Well, that's what you kept on telling yourself. Now that you thought about it, you two had broken up out of the blue. Everything was perfect until it wasn't. And you couldn't tell anyone about your boyfriend. You didn't want to.
‘’I miss you'’ the message read. No greeting, no him asking you how you were doing, no checking up on you, just three words followed by him wishing you luck for your big game tomorrow.
Your heart started beating so fast you thought it would actually jump out of your chest. You shook your head, taking a deep breath, trying to recollect yourself. Now was not the time to let your facade crumble. And you really wanted to text him back. But after thinking about it, your emotions were high now. You had to calm down first. So you put your phone down and got changed.
‘’Oh, I know that look.’’ One of your friends said, slamming her locker shut, shooting you a teasing grin. ‘’Did your ex text you?’’
Witchcraft. It must have been witchcraft. How else would she know?
Suddenly, all your friends smirked at you, asking you all sorts of questions. But you didn't answer. They knew you'd tell them eventually so they just let it go. After getting changed, all of you decided to head to a diner nearby. After the practice session you had just had you needed the fuel. The energy.
Everything went great and you debated on texting him, telling him to leave you alone. But you decided to pay him no mind. Letting him back in couldn't be good. ‘’What's your crush like?’’ You asked.
Your friends were trying to come up with a plan to help your friend confess to the guy she was interested in. If you didn't know any better, you would think they were planning on helping her propose to him.
‘’I'm pretty sure all of you know him.’’ That sounded promising. ‘’He is a little shy, doesn't speak much.’’ Sounded like someone you knew, you thought to yourself and let out a sigh. ‘’Tall, black hair, piercings, tattoos…’’ This had to be a coincidence. A lot of people on campus had piercings, tattoos and happened to have black hair. ‘’Oh and he is the famous plug on campus.’’ No. No, no, no, no, no. God no. ‘’Choso Kamo.’’
You almost dropped the glass in your hand.choking on a sip of water. Your teammates slapped your upper back, trying to get you to calm down while you apologised. The world was so big. So big. Eight billion people on this god forsaken planet, and she managed to fall in love with your ex? You weren't mad, she didn't know after all. It still stung though. ‘’Oh, I heard he and his girlfriend broke up a few months ago. You should shoot your shot!’’ One friend encouraged. ‘’I don't know about that.’’ Another friend chimed in. ‘’Apparently, he isn't over his ex.’’ She huffed. ‘’He won't even look at other women.’’
Oh? That was news to you. Not that you'd complain about that. You tried your best hiding the grin trying to make its way on your face. It was starting to get dark and the place was packed with people.
And when the door opened for the nth time, another friend group entered, a friend group you knew too well. A tall guy with white hair and blue eyes and a shit eating grin plastered on his face stepped in, accompanied by a long haired guy with gauges and a blonde guy whose cheekbones could cut through stone rolling his eyes behind him. And you hoped… No, begged the Gods above that their fourth friend wouldn't show up.
But fate wasn't on your side today.
He stepped in right after them. Eyes low, wearing a tight fitted t-shirt that accentuated his muscles and small waist alongside a baggy pair of pants. Oh you were fucked.
Fucked, nervous, and throbbing.
You took a deep breath, turning away from the door, hoping they wouldn't notice you. But of course they did. Choso had sensed your presence the moment he stepped into the diner. Your voice, your scent, he could make them out in a crowd full of a million people. But he didn't look for you. He didn't want you to know he knew you were there. Because he knew you had seen him.
But hiding didn't go too well. Because when they walked past your table, Gojo happened. Greeting you, making a scene, telling you how much he missed seeing you. Admittedly, the other two men had missed you too. But they could read the room. As Choso was with them, you didn't want them acknowledging you. It was too late now.
‘’You know Choso?’’ Your friends asked, almost simultaneously.
‘’As you can see we have mutual friends. I have nothing to do with him.’’ You laughed it off but you could feel his gaze on you. And you were way too awkward to look at him right now. The situation itself stole at least fifteen years of your life.
‘’We won't bother you girls any further.’’ Geto smiled, giving you a quick side hug.‘’
Have a nice evening, and Y/n you can call us whenever.’’ Nanami followed suit with a hug. And then, Choso stood right in front of you. You gasped, looking up at him. And for the first time in months you were staring into his eyes. Smiling awkwardly, you gave him a hug before sitting down, trying not to die from embarrassment.
Then the questions came. How do you know them? Did Choso just hug you? It doesn't seem like you don't have anything to do with him. Are you friends? Are you embarrassed of him? Why? And so on.
At some point, hours later, you saw the group heading out. Then your phone vibrated. Another message from him reading ‘’Come outside’’. The audacity. He couldn't even say please. But you rolled your eyes, standing up and making an excuse about why you had to go out to take some fresh air now.
When you stepped out the four of them were talking, a blunt pressed in between Choso's lips. The second you stepped through the door his gaze was on you. You hated how good he was at not breaking eye contact. The other three guys upon noticing you, sneaked back in, giving you two some space. Brushing past you, Gojo winked. You wanted to hit him so badly.
Choso inhaled, letting the weed sit in his lungs before exhaling. All while still looking at you, not taking his eyes off you once. You on the other hand were avoiding his gaze. Then he stepped closer.
Taking one step. Two steps. Until he stood right in front of you. Now you had to look up at him. Into his eyes.
‘’’You doing okay?’'
Your breath hitched. You had gone months without speaking to him. Months without hearing his voice. Months without feeling his presence. And now here he was. You kept on replaying this exact scenario in your mind. Thinking of all the things you'd tell him once he stood in front of you. But now? Your brain was empty. Words caught up in your throat.
So you just nodded. He sighed contently, taking another puff of his joint, not taking his eyes off you once.
‘’I saw that guy in your story the other day.’’
‘’I thought I had blocked you.’’ You gulped, folding your arms in front of your chest.
‘’You thought wrong.’’
Silence.
Yes, you lied. You hadn't blocked him. You wanted him to see what you were up to. That you wouldn't put your life on hold just because you two broke up. You wouldn't be moping around because you didn't care. Or that's what you wanted him to believe at least.
‘’What do you want, Choso?’’ You sighed, breaking the silence.
For the first time tonight he looked away letting out a chuckle. ‘’We're back to first name basis, huh?’’
‘’I thought that's what exes do.’’ You tilted your head to the side slightly, taking one step towards him. He was trying to get to you, but you wouldn't let him.
‘’I thought we were different, baby.’’
You huffed. ‘’Not you acting all high and mighty, knowing you're one sweetheart away from folding.’’ He furrowed his brows and you smirked. He knew damn well you were right. One sweetheart and it was over for him. Well any type of attention from you was enough to get him going. You stepped a little closer, making his face turn red. That was the Choso you knew.
‘‘’Want some?’’ he offered you a puff of his joint, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, but you declined.
‘’You know I've got a game tomorrow.’’
‘’Right…’’
You cracked a smile, taking a few steps back, leaning against the wall. He walked up to you slowly, getting way too close for your mind to comprehend. But your heart knew what you wanted.
‘’So did you or did you not sleep with him?’’ he whispered, inches away from your face. You could feel his breath on you as he exhaled, the smoke of the weed he was smoking grazing your lips. Oh, he wanted to kiss you so badly, you could tell. His eyes were hazy, switching between gazing into your eyes and looking down at your plump, juicy lips.
The thing is, he had kissed your lips a million times already. And he had no idea if it was the weed making his brain all fuzzy, but they seemed to pull him right in.
You had bewitched him.
‘’Depends,’’ you muttered, wrapping your arms around his neck. ‘’You jealous?’’ You pulled him in, pressing soft kisses to his neck, taking your time to make him ache for you. When you sucked at the spot right beneath his ear, he let out a whimper, throwing his head back slightly to give you more access.
As your lips wandered to his chin, he let his blunt fall to the ground, stomping it out as his hands made their way to your hips. Within seconds, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a soft kiss that grew deeper by the second.
When you tried to pull away he wouldn't let you. Understandably. You two hadn't seen, held and kissed each other for months. He had been waiting for this. Craving you. Craving your lips on his, craving your hands wandering up and down his body, craving you whispering sweet nothings into his ears. Telling you how much you missed him. Telling you how much you missed his big, stupid, dick inside you-
‘’Choso.’’ You mumbled against his lips, finally managing to pull away to take a deep breath. ‘’You are spacing out.’’
‘’Stop calling me that...’’
You frowned. He didn't even blink at you. But he almost looked… Needy? Like he wanted to beg. Beg for you to stop calling him by his first name. Beg for you to call him anything… Sweetheart, darling, my love… Even Cho would do.
You cupped his face, lips mere inches from his, as you looked him right in the eyes. ‘’I missed you, Cho.’’
He was done for.
“Y-Y/n…’’ You pulled him into another kiss, this one more passionate than the other. On the one hand, you really hoped no one was watching you right now. But on the other hand you didn’t care. You pressed your leg between your thigh grazing against his crotch. ‘’Hngh-W-Wait!’’
There he was. Your easily flustered Choso. And would you look at that? He was hard. You pulled away again, staring up at his doe eyes, making it hard for you to focus on anything. Resting your hands on his chest, you let out a sigh. You'd hate yourself for what you were about to say.
‘’Let me go get my bag. Then we can get out of here.’’ Little did you know you'd barely make it to the car.
You headed inside and found yourself a little irritated when he followed you with a smirk on his face. Choso was quiet and observant when he was in public. So he definitely knew one of your friends had the hots for him. And he knew you hadn't told them about the both of you. So when you stepped through the door, with him walking behind you closely, you had to decide:
Come up with a lie that would make them question you for a few seconds, or tell them the truth. And after months of hiding and keeping your feelings to yourself, you chose the latter. Not the whole truth, they didn't need to know you two were making out just seconds prior to this conversation.
“I'm sorry I didn't tell you.’’ You muttered, but they laughed it off. They knew you'd tell them eventually. You just loved taking your sweet ass time when it came to important information.
So finally, your heart was at ease. You could leave with a calm and collected mind. And he followed after you closely again. When you reached your car, reaching out your hand to open the door, he stopped you. Pressing your back against the car door, arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you into a kiss. He didn't hold back and you didn't either. He was hungry.
Hungry for your kisses, hungry for your touch, hungry for the sounds you made when he trailed hungry kisses down your neck, leaving marks on the way. His mind had been imagining holding you like this, kissing you like this for months now. And finally, he was here. With you in his arms, kissing him back. Your hands wandered down his body, one grabbing at his peck, making him mumble into the kiss, and the other moving down his abdomen, not skipping a beat as it made its way to his crotch painfully slow. Teasingly. Oh, he was hard and heavy, pulsing and throbbing in his pants.
‘’Looks like you might explode any minute,’’ you whispered between kisses.
‘’Certainly f-feels like it.’’ He muttered, pulling away. You could finally open the car door now. But not to the front seats. You were sure you wouldn't be able to make it home now. He was about to explode and you weren't far from losing your mind either. You were sure your panties were soaked. Drenched in your arousal.
He got in first and you followed suit, as he pulled you into his lap, closing the door behind you. Then his gaze fell on you again, hands placed on either side of your waist after he grabbed your arms and rested them around his neck. You loved when he looked at you like this. Like you hung up the stars and the moon. Totally mesmerised by you.
‘’You have the prettiest eye shape, you know?’’
You chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. ‘’That's so random.’’
‘’I missed you too,’’ he breathed out, an answer to your statement earlier when you were making out in front of the diner. Of course he did.
‘’Figures.’’ You whispered, pressing another kiss to his lips. ‘’You're rock hard.’’ Smirking, you started grinding your hips against his crotch subtly, making his breath hitched in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, nails digging into your flesh. Then you trailed kisses down his neck again, stopping at his Adam's apple digging your teeth into it softly. You wanted to leave a mark.
‘’F-Fuck…’’ he whispered underneath his breath. And you could feel him twitching beneath you. The self control he had was admirable. He didn't thrust up once. He didn't beg you to do something about it either. He knew how much you loved good boys.
And he wanted to be so good for you.
You removed his hands from his waist, unbuckling his pants. He helped you, tugging them down to his ankles as you took off your pants. His dick sprung free, slapping against his stomach. Then you cupped his face, pulling him into another kiss. One of your hands wandered down to his throbbing dick, gripping at his aching red tip, squeezing it tightly.
He gasped into your kiss and you sucked in anything he was about to say. You moved your hand up and down slowly, squeezing lightly at his base. But like the good boy he was, he didn't want to leave you unattended. So one of his arms reached behind you, making its way to your soppy cunt. And oh, you were warm, pussy drooling all over his thighs, making a mess even though he hadn't even touched you yet. The both of you were quite desperate. But no one could top Choso when it came to desperation.
He rubbed at your folds, making you moan into the kiss before he pushed a finger into you. Those thick, long fingers of his that used to have you shaking every other night. When he added another finger, you squeezed his tip before you started stroking again, painfully slow. He spread his fingers inside you, going in a scissor motion, trying to stretch you out for what was about to come.
By the time you increased the pace of your strokes on his dick, you could fit three fingers, whining into the kiss. It was hot. Too hot. So hot that his free hand reached out and crack open a window, letting the cool night air enveloped you.
‘’I,’’ he started, mumbling between kisses ‘’want to put it inside.’’
‘’Say please.’’
‘’P-Please…’’ No hesitation, no shame, just desperation on Choso's end. And you loved it. He pulled his fingers out of you as you raised your hips, positioning yourself right above his dick, sinking down slowly. You were so warm. So wet. Too much for Choso who hadn't even dared to look at another woman for the past few months.
Who hadn't dared to let another woman touch him. Let alone sit on his dick in the backseat of a car.
You were the only one he wanted to do it with. The only one he craved doing it with. And he wouldn't have it any other way.
‘’S-So warm and so-Fuck! W-Wet…’’ he whimpered when you finally bottomed out, walls clenching around his throbbing dick deliciously, waiting to get used to the familiar stretch. Choso was big and very humble about it. In the earlier stages of your relationship, he swore he was average, nothing special, nothing to drool over. And you always laughed about it because frankly, you didn't care about his size. You would be happy with whatever he could give you.
Too bad what he could give you resembled a fucking pipe. When you saw it the first time, wanting to suck him off after you two were done making out, you audibly gasped. And the audacity of his, asking you if it was enough, telling you he'd understand if you left, all while giving you that innocent look, batting his long eyelashes at you.
You started moving slowly, as he clung to you, arms on your waist, lips pressing kisses to your neck, biting you, leaving the occasional mark. He pulled up your shirt, alongside your bra, too lazy to struggle to unbuckle it now, revealing your chest. Before you knew it, his mouth latched on to one nipple, tongue swirling around it, mouth sucking on it, teeth grazing the sensitive nub as one of his hands pinched the other nipple.
The sensation went straight to your core, making you clench around him tightly. ‘’S-Stop clenching so tightly…’’ he muttered around your boob. From your point of view, it looked like he was trying to swallow it whole. He had always been a boob fanatic. Well, the only boobs he was obsessed with were yours. He was obsessed with everything about you.
‘’Stop p-playing with my chest then…’’ you muttered, trying to hold back a moan.
That did it for him.
Suddenly, he sucked on your titt. Hard. Both of his arms slung themselves around your waist, holding you closely, as he started thrusting up into you. Which caught you off guard. The first time he slammed up into you, you let out a moan, squeezing your eyes shut. The second time, you squealed, squeezing down on him again. ‘’Ch-Choso!’’ You groaned, nails digging into the back of his neck.
‘’Stop c-calling me that…’’ and he punctuated every word with a thrust of his hips. Fuck, he was driving you crazy. He had no idea what he was doing to you, turning your insides into mush while marking you up. “Ca-Call me… Literally a-anything else-Ngh!’’ He slammed you down on his dick, letting out something between a groan and a whimper. He was far gone already. As were you. The both of you had forgotten the cracked window. And to be honest, you didn't care about anything or anyone. Especially him. The only thing he was interested in was how often he could fill you up in this car.
When he bit into your chest, drawing a groan from you, you wrapped your hands around his neck, pushing him back against his seat. His eyes rolled back in his head. You had almost forgotten how much he loved getting choked by you. You pressed a kiss to his lips, pushing your tongue into his mouth as his grip on your hips loosened. He was close. So close he could feel his orgasm on the tip of his tongue. That and you cutting off his air circulation were driving him crazy. And you whispered into his ear, telling him he could come inside you, he lost it. Losing all his restraint. He let out a whimper, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he came deep inside you, panting your insides white.
Hot tears streamed down his face when you let go of his neck, coughing, trying to suck in some air. And you pressed soft kisses to his face, trying to calm him down. ‘’’You doing okay there, baby?’’ He twitched, taking a few ragged breaths as you kissed away his tears.
You were just about to get off him, when he buried his face into your chest, hugging you tightly. Then, thrust. A thrust into you, shaking up your walls. ‘’You d-didn't finish…’’ he muttered, sucking marks into your chest. And he built up his pace gradually, this time thrusting into you faster. He was still hard, throbbing inside you, making sure not a single drop of the load he had pumped into you would go to waste. ‘’I missed this s-sloppy pussy…’’ he whimpered, grinding his dick into you.
The windows of your car were all fogged up, his dick was digging into your insides. He pulled away momentarily, and made you lie back against the center console, grabbing your waist to fuck into you while he pressed a thumb to your clit.. ‘’Right there, Cho! Y-Yes!’’
‘’R-Right here, yeah?’’
You nodded haptically, loving the way he was fucking you. Loving the way he was rubbing your clit. ‘’I'm going to-'’ you were cut off by a whimper of your own, trying not to lose yourself. He pressed down on your lower stomach, making you feel him. Making you feel every inch of him slipping inside him. You wanted to scream, cream on his dick. Lose your mind.
And that's exactly what you did. You lost yourself in the feeling of his dick slamming into you. You were a total mess. And when the both of you came, you came hard. His thrust halted, stopping deep inside you as he continued rubbing your clit through your high. You moaned, screamed, whined his name as you squirted all over his dick, twitching like a mad woman. He pulled you in for a kiss you melted into, and you just stayed like that for a while.
Hugging each other, kissing each other with him still inside you, until you had to start moving. You got off him, letting his dick slip out of you gently, both of you letting out a groan at the loss of warmth.
‘’Fuck, I needed this.’’ You whispered, pressing your forehead against his.He looked at you.
‘’So… So you didn't sleep with that guy?’’
You chuckled, pulling on your pants, zipping your pair right up. ‘’Of course not, Cho.’’ Before you could head out of the door, he pulled you into another kiss.
You stepped out, rushing into the driver's seat while he stepped out, opened the door and sat down right next to you.
‘’You're going to have to get your car cleaned after the mess we just made.’’ He mumbled.
‘’You mean you are going to get this car cleaned.’’
He smiled, pressing a kiss to your cheek. And you headed straight to your place. You two missed out on a lot of quality time spent together. And you were sure there was a lot you two needed to talk about.
‘’Why didn't you tell us he was your ex?’’ The next day, you two showed up to your game together. After you two had talked… And fucked it out, you decided to give it another try. And after the game you had one, he came up to you, hugging you from behind.
‘’Boyfriend,’’ he muttered into the crook of your neck, arms wrapped around your waist from behind. ‘’I'm her boyfriend again.’’
Damn right he was. And this time, you wouldn't let him slip through your fingers.
