Hi!

mark being a big cuddle bug ugh and you cant help but give in because its honestly so worth it and he has a hand on your ass because he says “its comfy” and you hate to admit it, but it is. So with an iron grip on your cheek you both just fall asleep before a loud blaring alarm goes off

𝗝𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗹𝗲𝘁 𝗺𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀

・❥・ Mark is NOT getting that damn essay done

・❥・word count: 0.9k

・❥・warnings: so much fluff, some mentions of being a pervert, absolutely NOT beta read

・❥・Now why have none of my real life boyfriends been as cute as him??? Also love you anonnn!!!!

“I’m giving up.” Mark huffed in frustration, shutting his laptop and slumping into a small, sad, pile. 

“How much do you have left?” You fought the urge to laugh at your beautiful boyfriend’s misfortune. You lay on the other side of the bed scrolling mindlessly on your phone. Despite his anguish, he looked handsome. A few strands of hair fell into his face messily and his white t-shirt suddenly seemed much tighter.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

“Like one more page.” He dragged his hands down his face, stretching it cartoonishly. He rested his head on the headboard of his bed, his chest rose and fell as he took deep calming breaths. 

“That’s not bad.” You crawl closer to him. You move the laptop off his lap, assuring it stays safely on the small bed. You cradle his face in your hands, his lips were pulled into a pout and his warm brown eyes trailed over your face like he was committing it to memory. “That’s like, home stretch.” 

“No,” He whined. He was stuck between wanting to tear away from you dramatically or nuzzling himself further into your hold on his face, so he simply sighed loudly. “I ran out of things to say like five paragraphs ago. I can’t repeat everything for the third time.” You bite your lip to avoid cracking a smile at his dramatics. 

“Oh no, whatever will my sweet boy do?” 

“Don’t mock me! I need this to pull my grade up.” You roll your eyes. Maybe you would take him more seriously if he actually did his work when he said he would. “I’m gonna finish it.” He nods. “Get away from me, tease.” He pulls himself from your hold and grabs his laptop once again. With a shrug, you back away from him to return to your side of the bed. You barely made it an inch away before he grabbed onto your leg to keep you in place. You raise an eyebrow at his antics. He doesn’t say anything but you see him struggling to contain his smile. 

You tug your leg back and curl up in your spot on the bed. For a while everything is peaceful. You scroll on your phone while Mark types away diligently. However, all good things come to an end. Before you even realized that Mark had shut his laptop he had grabbed onto you by the legs and tugged you closer to him. You yelped and curled a hand into his hair in surprise. “Mark!” You shrieked. 

He wrapped his arms around your waist with a nonchalant smile, paying no mind to your hand in his hair or how your surprised yell was cut off by a fit of giggles. He pulled you into his lap and pressed you close to his chest with a heavy exhale. His warmth blanketed you and you felt yourself relax into him. You could feel the defined musculature beneath his loose shirt and it sent a pleasant shock through you.

“I thought you were finishing your essay?” You hummed, making no moves to get off of him and let him work.

“Shh, let me have this.” He whispers into your ear. He tucked his head into the crook of your neck, his warm breath fanned over your collarbone. Once again everything was peaceful, and once again Mark had to disturb the peace. His hand wandered further down your body until it rested itself on your ass.

“What are you doing?” You pull away just slightly to look at him. He shushes you again, his eyes shut.

“Sorry.” He murmured. Despite that he doesn’t move his hand an inch. If anything he tightens his grip. 

“You aren’t sorry.” You huff. He nods and a small smile spreads on his face. 

“I’m not. Just let me have this.” He repeats. “It’s comfy.” You narrow your eyes at him. His eyes are lidded and tired but he looks back at you with a playful expression. 

“You’re a pervert.” You sigh as you lay back down on him. His muscles relax at your warm body on top of his.

“I know, I’m the worst.” He smiles into your hair. With one of his hands still gripping your cheek the other rubs soft circles into your back. You feel your breathing begin to even out as you lose yourself in the softness of the moment.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

You weren’t sure how much time had passed since you had fallen asleep but you woke up in an entirely different position than you had fallen asleep. When your eyes opened you were on your back with Mark nuzzled into your chest. His arms were still around your waist while yours rested around his shoulders. Sunlight streamed in through the window, kissing your face and giving Mark’s almost jet-black hair a warm glow. You threaded your fingers through his hair. He had been working so hard, both as Mark Grayson and as Invincible, he needed rest. 

Just as quickly as you had the thought it was interrupted. A loud, blaring alarm cut through the room, leaving you scrambling to find the source before Mark woke up. The source was, of course, Mark’s own phone. 

Essay

His alarm read. You half smiled as you closed out of the alarm. Alas, it was too late.

“What was that?” He croaked.

“Your reminder to write your essay.” You laughed as you carded your fingers through his hair. He sighed loudly as he rolled off of you. 

“I’m giving up.”

Caught Being Cringe .ᐟ

𝜗𝜚: satoru, suguru, nanami, choso, ino, toji

note: asking them who’s your {insert cringe} boy ! i saw this on tiktok and i hope yall get it lmao. be nice, this is the first time i’ve gotten inspo😭

warnings: suggestive, fluff, cringe pet names, mommy kink in choso, f!reader

I BLOCK MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS

maybe i was born to read fanfic and obsess over fictional men idk

fem reader intended

fiancé gojo who shocked the jujutsu higher ups when he revealed his engagement to you, a grade 1 sorceress with no relation to any big 3 clans. imagine their surprise when he decides to get married out of love and not just to create a heir.

fiancé gojo who teaches with you at jujutsu high and is the reason why you can barely arrive to classes on time. with his pouty face and insanely toned biceps trapping you in his hold, who are you to say no?

fiancé gojo who whines when you actually leave him to teach your students, feigning offence when megumi shoots him a disgusted glare.

fiancé gojo who often joins in on your lessons when he starts feeling lonely, acting as if he were your actual student. your annoyingly smart A+ student who does nothing but brag about his intelligence.

fiancé gojo who likes to text you and send silly voice messages no matter the situation. picture satoru replaying his minute-long burp vm in front of the jujutsu higher ups so that he makes sure you can laugh at it (spoiler: all you feel is disappointment).

fiancé gojo who thinks it’s absolutely hilarious to flaunt his engagement and watch the irritation on their faces turn into pure horror. because for gojo, flaunting means interrupting you mid-sentence to practically make out for a minute straight.

fiancé gojo who asks everyday, “should we have our wedding now?” and sighs dramatically when you tell him to be patient. not that he’s actually mad, though. he likes the giddyness he feels while counting down to your wedding date.

fiancé gojo who drowns you in affection and praise after every mission, crying his heart out (jokingly) about how he felt like an abandoned princess waiting for her prince to come back from war.

fiancé gojo who, deep down, thanks the skies above that you get to come home safely everytime. and while he’s a jokester, all the ‘missing you’ parts in his sob stories were true. because while he knew you were strong, the lingering worry of you running into something way stronger bit his ass everytime.

fiancé gojo who indulges himself in your warmth, ignoring every single notification his phone pings out.

fiancé gojo who has a hold on you so secure, even during sleep, that you have to wake him up before he presses on your bladder any further. now you have to deal with his complaints of “do you not love me anymore? Is that why you let go? you’re so mean!”

fiancé gojo who shuts up when you offer to wash his greasy hair, immediately situating himself in front of you and leaning into every single touch you place on his head.

fiancé gojo who ends up getting you wet and makes a stupid excuse so that you can bathe together. no matter how difficult, the feeling of your skin against his was enough to get him through the day.

fiancé gojo who settles your back on his chest, lifting your arm to trace “satoru 🤍 [name] 4eva”. what a cutie.

fiancé gojo who genuinely can’t wait until he sees you walk down the aisle, exchange the vows he’s been working on since you first met, shamelessly give you the most passionate kiss ever (in front everyone you know and love), and officially get the privilege of calling you his wifey.

I think about Hannibal Barca atleast thrice a day for the past two years. No idea if it’s because I’m hyper fixating or because I want to fuck this 2000 year old dead man.

Jenny Dolfen just draws him so handsome! Let me go back in time and so I can help him take down the Romans!!!

Trick or Treat

HC for the JJK men and their little ones

WC: 2.5k

TW: Mentions of Miscarriage, pregnant reader (Choso), Pet Names: Honey, Baby, stuff like that. Tooth rotting fluff?

*****

Gojo: 

Satoru had never imagined himself as father material. Taken from his parents at a young age, he was raised by distant mentors and silent servants in traditional hallways. That cold, lonely upbringing was etched into his bones. He had vowed that if he ever had a child, they would never know that kind of isolation. So when you told him you were pregnant, something in him shifted—he found himself diving headfirst into the idea of family. He bought a house in Tokyo, in a warm neighborhood, where children's laughter echoed in the streets. He wanted your child to grow up surrounded by love—something he had craved, but never truly had.

It was Halloween night, and Satoru entered the house with a bright grin. The soft click of the door barely registered before your three-year-old daughter came toddling toward him, her arms stretched out wide. Her bright blue eyes sparkled with pure delight, and the sight made his heart swell painfully in his chest. Without hesitation, he crouched down and swept her into his arms, her sweet laughter filling the room like music he never knew he needed.

“There’s my little pumpkin!” he said, his voice filled with affection as he admired her tiny jack-o'-lantern dress. “I could just gobble you up!” He buried his face in her soft chubby cheeks, blowing raspberries as her squeals and giggles echoed in the air. The joy on her face was everything. 

You stood by the doorway, watching them with a smile that tugged at your lips. Satoru caught your gaze, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the three of you. This was happiness—so simple, yet so profound. “You ready for trick-or-treating?” you asked softly, stepping closer.

He straightened up, pulling you into a gentle kiss, his lips lingering on yours just a little longer than usual. His eyes shone with warmth when he pulled back, the kind of love that left you breathless. “Of course I am. This is her first real Halloween,” he said, his voice soft full of amusement, “and she’s not being carried the whole time.” There was a joy in his voice, but also something deeper, a vulnerability he rarely let surface.

Later, the three of you walked hand in hand down the decorated streets of your neighborhood. Your daughter’s small fingers gripped tightly onto yours, her wide eyes filled with wonder as she took in all the costumes, the glowing pumpkins, and the cobwebbed houses. Satoru held her candy bag, watching her every move with a kind of reverence—like he still couldn’t believe she was real, like he feared this fragile happiness could slip away in an instant. The feeling gnawed at him sometimes, that quiet fear in the back of his mind. But for now, he pushed it away, tightening his grip on your hand to ground himself at this moment.

She waddled up to another door, proudly returning with a handful of candy—and a small pack of raisins. Satoru stared at it, blinking in mock disbelief.

“Raisins? Seriously?” he groaned dramatically, tossing it into the bag with a playful scowl. “Who hands out raisins on Halloween? Let the kids have a sugar high!” His whine was exaggerated, but you knew him well enough to catch the hint of protectiveness in his voice—he wanted her to have nothing but the best, even on a night like this.

You laughed, the sound light and familiar, and Satoru’s expression softened as he scooped your daughter up, placing her gently on his shoulders. She squealed with excitement, her little hands gripping his snow white hair for balance as she beamed down at the world. Satoru chuckled, his heart fluttering at her joy.

As the three of you approached the next house, Satoru glanced over at you, a lump forming in his throat. Moments like these—so small, so filled with love—were everything he’d ever dreamed of, but never thought he could have. He wanted to freeze this moment, to hold onto it forever. The thought of losing any of it, of losing you or her, sent a quiet wave of panic through him. 

He reached out, intertwining his fingers with yours, holding on just a little tighter. 

This was his family. His world. His dream that came to life.

Geto: 

You stepped into the living room, your heart warming at the sight before you. Suguru, your husband, sat on the floor, gently helping your one-year-old into a soft bear onesie. Her baby babbles filled the room, and his quiet coos in response wrapped the moment in a kind of peaceful magic. His fingers moved with ease, buttoning up the tiny onesie, his expression one of complete focus and love.

“Ah-ah, no grabbing the hair," he chuckled softly, gently moving her tiny hands away from his inky black hair, which fell just below his shoulders. A smile tugged at his lips as he looked down at her, his voice playful. "Daddy can’t wait for you to grow out of that phase," he teased, although the fondness in his tone betrayed him. He tugged the little bear hood onto her head, her bright violet eyes looking up at him as she babbled, reaching for him again. “You’re going to make the cutest little brown bear, aren’t you?” he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness as he scooped her into his arms.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face, warmth blooming in your chest as you watched them.

Suddenly, the sound of tiny footsteps thundered down the stairs as the twins, Mimiko and Nanako, burst into the room. They had just turned six this year, and tonight they were full of excitement for Halloween. Mimiko was dressed in a little black dress with matching bear ears, going as a black bear cub, while Nanako twirled in a white dress—an impractical choice for trick-or-treating, but she insisted on being a polar bear cub. You and Suguru, in matching park ranger outfits, were there to guide your little bear cubs.

“Well, you both look absolutely adorable,” you chimed, your voice bright with amusement. The twins giggled, bouncing on their heels with barely contained energy, their excitement almost tangible.

Suguru stood up, balancing your youngest on his hip as she reached for her sisters’ ears, her little hands stretching curiously toward them. Mimiko and Nanako burst into giggles, leaning in so their baby sister could touch the soft fabric of their costumes. 

“How precious,” Suguru murmured, his voice so quiet you almost missed it. His violet eyes, usually sharp and calculating, softened as he gazed at his girls. In that moment, the world seemed to still. This—his family—was everything. Every challenge, every battle, every dark night that had threatened to swallow him whole, had led him here. To this. The thought made his chest ache, the love almost too much to bear.

But just as the peace settled over him, he snapped back to reality with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Hold on—pictures first!” he announced, moving with determined speed toward the camera.

A collective groan rose from the three of you, knowing full well that once Suguru got into “picture mode,” you were in for a marathon. His insistence on capturing every perfect angle meant this was going to take longer than any of you were prepared for.

“Honey! We have to meet Satoru for trick-or-treating in an hour!” you called after him, your tone part exasperation, part amusement, as you hurried to grab the camera from his eager hands.

A laugh escaped his lips as he turned to face you, his eyes meeting yours with a look so full of affection it nearly took your breath away. Behind that playful, beautiful exterior, there was something deeper—gratitude. A thankfulness that you had stayed with him through his darkest times, through every shadow that had tried to pull him under. You had given him this life, this family, and in doing so, you had brought him happiness and purpose he had once thought impossible.

“I promise it won’t take long,” Suguru chuckled, though the knowing smile on his face said otherwise. You rolled your eyes, unable to help the fond laugh that escaped you.

Nanami: 

“Honey, I am so sorry,” Nanami called out the moment he stepped through the front door of the apartment. His voice was tinged with exhaustion, but also with an apology that spoke of guilt. “Did you already—” His sentence cut short, the words dying in his throat as a sigh escaped his lips. His usual stoic expression softened into a gentle smile as his eyes landed on the scene before him.

Your son, perched on the kitchen island, sat with a wooden spoon clutched in his tiny two-year-old hands, covered in flour and batter. You stood nearby, also dusted in flour, your hair a little messy, but your face bright with warmth. 

“Surpwise!” your son squealed, his hands outstretched, proudly showing off the wooden spoon caked with batter like it was the best gift in the world.

Nanami loosened his tie as he walked closer, his exhaustion melting into quiet laughter as he took in the sight. “What’s all this?” he chuckled, eyeing the assortment of cookies spread out across the counters. The soft sounds of "Peanuts: The Big Pumpkin" played in the background, filling the apartment with a cozy, nostalgic atmosphere.

“Well,” you began, smiling up at him as you wiped some flour from your cheek. “Our little one here is still a bit too young for trick-or-treating, so we decided to bake! He’s been an amazing little helper, though we’re still working on not eating all the batter,” you laughed, gesturing toward the sticky spoon in your son’s hand. “We’re making pumpkin bread, just for you.”

Nanami’s eyes softened even more, the corners crinkling slightly as he looked down at you with a tenderness that made your chest warm. He got so caught up in work—too often, really—and it wasn’t unusual for him to miss out on little moments like these. The guilt was always there, lingering just behind the tired smiles.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be here sooner,” he murmured, brushing a hand through his hair, his frown deepening. “Ino-kun needed help on a mission. The poor kid is too young to be handling those kinds of assignments alone.”

You noticed the tightness in his shoulders, the way the weariness clung to him, but before you could offer comfort, his frown deepened. You tilted your head, confused. “Invite him over.”

Nanami blinked, clearly surprised.

“I know Itadori-kun is out with Choso and his wife tonight,” you continued with a grin. “We’ve got way too many baked goods for the three of us. Plus, Ino-kun is great with kids. It’d be nice to have him over.” 

Nanami’s expression softened once again, the guilt in his eyes easing slightly as he nodded. “I’ll give him a call.”

And, of course, Takuma came running the moment he was invited, bursting through the door with an enthusiasm that made your son squeal with excitement all over again.

Later that evening, the four of you nestled together on the couch, watching the children’s movie play on the screen. Your two-year-old babbled constantly, munching on cookies and randomly pointing at the TV, too excited to focus on any one thing for long. But eventually, his chatter quieted, and he began to drift off, his tiny head resting comfortably on Nanami’s lap. 

Takuma, too, had succumbed to the peaceful atmosphere, falling asleep beside you with crumbs still on his shirt. You gently draped a blanket over him, smiling as he snuggled into it without waking. 

Nanami glanced down at the sleeping form of your son, his hand gently brushing through the little one's hair. There was a peacefulness in his expression, a quiet contentment that made your heart swell. These were the moments that made everything else—his work, the stress, the guilt—worth it. 

There was something special about this quiet, cozy life you had built together. It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours. And in these small, fleeting moments, it felt like everything you needed.

Choso:

Choso sat beside you on the couch, his brows furrowed in concentration as he wrapped yet another blanket around your pregnant belly. You already had two draped over you, but it was clear he wasn’t taking any chances. This was your miracle baby, the one who had made it past the third trimester after two heartbreaking miscarriages. Choso was determined to make sure everything went smoothly, even if it meant over-preparing for a causal movie night.

“We’re watching Human Earthworm right?” Yuji chimed as he entered the living room, arms full of snacks and his usual bright smile lighting up his face. “It’s perfect for Halloween!”

Before you could answer, Choso’s deep stoic voice cut through the room. “No.”

Both you and Yuji exchanged surprised glances. Choso rarely said no to his younger brother, always indulging his whims. But tonight, his protectiveness was palpable.

“It’s bad for the baby,” Choso continued, his voice unyielding as he placed a gentle hand on your swollen belly. His touch was tender, but his expression was serious. “It’ll scare them.”

You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, the contrast between his stoic demeanor and his caring nature was always endearing. “My love, it’ll be fine,” you reassured him, but he shook his head firmly.

“No,” he said again, unwavering. He reached over to the side table and picked up a DVD case, holding it up with a hint of determination in his eyes. “We’re watching Mickey Mouse: Halloween Special. I did research. It’s good for babies.”

A wobbly smile formed on his lips, clearly trying to look confident in his decision. His desire to protect both you and the baby was overwhelming, even if it was a bit… over-the-top.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Maybe not that,” you replied gently, glancing over at Yuji, who was trying to suppress his own laughter but looked more determined than ever.

Yuji nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation but still hoping for something more entertaining than a Mickey Mouse special. “Okay, okay… what about The Nightmare Before Christmas? It’s not too scary, I promise!”

Choso’s frown deepened, his protective instincts kicking in. “No. It has bugs. Scary scenes. You might get frightened, and then the baby will get scared.” His hand never left your belly, as if he could shield your little one from any imagined harm.

After what felt like an hour of back-and-forth negotiations, Choso finally relented. He agreed to The Nightmare Before Christmas—but only on the condition that you promised to close your eyes during any parts he deemed “too scary.” His hand remained firmly on your belly, monitoring for any kicks or signs of distress, his focus unwavering throughout the movie.

Even though you knew it was silly, Choso’s constant vigilance filled you with warmth. It was more than just about the baby. He was watching over both of you, ensuring nothing—no matter how small—would cause harm or discomfort. You leaned into his side, smiling softly. He squeezed your hand in response, his gaze still fixed on your belly.

******

a/n: I was going to wait until Halloween to post this but I just could not wait! My baby fever was cured (for now) while writing this. I couldn't think of anything good for Toji right now, he's kind of hard to write for.

A silly ask and I'm kinda surprised no one has done this yet and I like your writing so I'm sending it to you but basically fem reader and toji on an episode on maury :3

WHO’S YOUR DADDY? — toji fushiguro

pairing: toji fushiguro x fem!reader

a/n: the way this has sat in the drafts for well over a year, loved writing this btw, thanks anon!

it’s no secret that toji has his doubts about whether megumi is his.

but you’re officially over going back and forth with him. especially when he still owes you child support that he refuses to pay until you show him valid proof that megumi is his son.

and what better way to give him that confirmation that he desires than on the messiest show on daytime television, in front of a live studio audience.

“for those who have joined us after the break, today we are joined by y/n, who claims that her ex boyfriend toji is pretending to act like he isn’t the father to their two year old son megumi so he doesn’t have to pay child support.”

the camera pans to you and toji sat a few feet away from each other. you can tell that he thinks this whole thing is a joke from the way he’s slouching in the chair and the constant sarcastic replies he gives maury each time he’s asked a simple question.

“maury how do i know she’s not tryna hustle me outta my hard earned money, huh?” he asks, seemingly thinking that he’s caught you in a tight spot. “besides have you seen the kid? his hair is spiky as fuck, nobody in my family has that hair type.”

the laugh that threatens to leave your lips is almost sickening, using hair as reason to not claim his child was absurd.

it was almost as wild as trying to accuse you of being a good-for-nothing money hungry vulture. which was rich coming from him. considering that your job was practically funding his lifestyle, aside from the large dose of cash he received from his 'work trips’ that cropped up once in a while.

the cash did nothing for you as he spent it as fast as he received it. rather than putting it towards megumi’s trust fund or college fund, he squandered it all on drinking and gambling, especially when it came to the races.

it turns out his charming looks and smiles do not work on the biggest gamble of all time: betting on damn race horses.

but in the rare instance he had some had some heart he contributed towards the bills and groceries. yet that still wasn’t enough.

“when was the last time you paid for megumi’s diapers or his formula or anything related to the apartment, hm?”

you retort, revelling at how all the fight and bravado he once held was slowly seeping out of him, as if he had all of his blood sucked out of him. the host looks expectantly at toji, awaiting a response.

the audience sets off in a chorus of ‘boos’ before toji even has a chance to respond to clear his name. he feels ambushed, the humiliation of admitting to be a terrible father on television creeping up on him.

but what did he expect? he always pushed too hard and now he’s paying the price as you unsurprisingly pushed back even harder.

and of course in the sea of 'boos', there’s a few cheers in the crowd from people who are more interested in getting into his pants instead of the main reason to why you were here in the first place.

“oh and maury if you think i’m lying, i’ve got invoices, bank statements and receipts spanning the last three months.” you add “i can tell you for a fact that this man doesn’t spend a dime on anything—he might as well put on a diaper and sleep in our son's crib.”

"and so what?" toji shrugs, ever so nonchalant. to the degree it pisses you off, he could at least try to act like he cares in front of the camera and the audience.

“i still make it up to you though, don’t i?” he replies, a teasing edge to his tone that has implications that you don’t want to unpack on national television, which was ironic since your business was already out there anyway.

the look on your face is almost murderous, and luckily maury manages to pick up on before this turns into a bloodbath. he quickly perks up as he holds up the manilla envelope that was going to make or break your day.

“In here we have the results of the paternity test, come back after the break!” he says clasping his hand together as you head to the commercial break. immediately you head backstage, grabbing megumi from the staff member who seemed smitten with him.

he latched onto you as you doted on him, before he waddled off to play with his firetrucks that you brought with you in your bag. “he’s getting so big.” a familiar voice says and you turn to see him in the doorway.

“megumi look! daddy’s come back with his tail between his legs because he knows he’s about to be publicly embarrassed on tv!” you say in a mocking voice, pointing out to where toji is standing and he toddles over, smacking his arm as he adorably glowers at his dad.

“bad daddy!” he says and you stop him before he gets out of control and starts to barrel toji with his kicking and slapping. you pull megumi onto your lap trying to calm him down whilst biting back a laugh.

“we don’t hit megumi, unless people deserve it like your daddy.” you tell him softly but you doubt he’s retained any of what you said anyway.

megumi is nestled into your lap, his focus back onto the firetruck that he’s playing with. for his age the kid is incredibly perceptive to the point where it spooks you out.

and if toji feels more like an idiot now, he doesn’t say so.

—

“and we’re back! for those who have just joined us, y/n claims that her ex boyfriend is denying that he’s the father of their child to avoid child support payments.”

the clips of the past half hour play back as you sit down, the manilla envelope in your eye level making your heart race slightly. deep down you knew that he was the father so why was the anticipation making you doubt that?

the crowds cheering and whooping comes to a close once maury grabs hold of the manilla envelope, he opens it, dragging out the grand reveal for dramatic purposes as the suspense builds in the room.

“when it comes to two year old megumi fushiguro, toji… you are the father!” he announces setting off the crowd in a series of cheers. you look over at toji and notice the red flush that covers his neck and ears, a sure tell sign of embarrassment and guilt.

“all i gotta say is that i fucking told you so, hell i didn’t even have to say anything you should’ve known!” you said to him, as he did nothing but take the well deserved lecture from you.

toji felt really fucking stupid, like really stupid but he didn’t want to add to your tirade already, he already wanted to melt of pure embarrassment under the hot studio lights. he really underestimated the lengths you’d go to prove him wrong.

“it’s time to start scrimping and saving, old man. food, clothes and diapers aint cheap. I’m sure your poor race horses will understand right?” you said teasingly, biting back a laugh as you clapped his shoulder.

toji let out an annoyed huff as the sound of your laughter ricocheted in his head, the high from your victory lap still present. he couldn’t be more of a fool if he tried. “haha very funny.” he said drily, despite his head burning, now he owed you and shiu money over his stupid antics.

he knew that as long as the internet and tv were still around, he was never going to live this day down, knowing you’d use this moment to embarrass him and deservedly so.

“i’ve been your host, maury! come back tomorrow where we have suguru and satoru. two former best friends and alleged lovers with satoru claiming that suguru’s affair with the kfc worker ruined their relationship!”

4:47AM.

mom!reader x dad!eren

hearing the faint sound of your baby crying, as you were tangled in the sheets, one leg above them and one leg under.

eren laid beside you, one leg hanging off the bed as he slept peacefully (for now) on his back. you groaned, throwing your arm over his chest and softly hitting him.

“baby.” you mumbled, eren quickly sitting up, eyes still closed. “huh?” he breathed out as he rubbed his eyes, finally hearing his baby crying.

quickly standing up, almost stumbling over, rushing towards the room to turn the lights on, letting out a sigh of relief before walking over to her crib and picking her up, her being like a small teddy bear in his hands.

“it’s okay, you good.” he whispered as Erie’s eyes fluttered open, her making soft sounds.

he held her in one hand, slowly making his way down the stairs and into the kitchen to get milk from the fridge.

yawning, pausing to adjust himself for a moment, he leaned on the counter, still holding Erie in his arm as he used his other one to feed her the bottle. closing his eyes for a few seconds, he felt himself dozing off, his head flying up as he looked at her, sighing softly.

he sat there for a few minutes, staring into space, giving his baby time to breathe before letting her drink the rest of her milk.

putting the bottle by the sink, not having enough energy or consciousness to wash and refill it, he made his way back upstairs, scratching his head and walking into the newborns room, rocking her softly while trying to put her to sleep.

“just go back to sleep.. Erbear.” he mumbled, throwing his head back and sighing. “please.” he whispered, looking back down at his baby just to see her peacefully asleep in his arms.

smiling a little, walking towards her crib and kissing her forehead, he slowly put her down.

“thank you.” eren mumbled, walking out of her room and turning the light off, leaving both doors wide open so that you knew if she’d start crying again.

as you felt the bed get heavier beside you, you turned towards eren, holding your arms out as he laid on your chest, sighing.

“did you burp her?” you asked, rubbing your hands in his messy hair.

“aw, shit.” erens eyes shot open and he quickly got off of you.

rushing to Erie’s room and turning the light on, eren lifted her and faced her away from him on his forearm, softly patting her back. “my bad.” he mumbled, hearing a burp come from his daughter.

patting her for a few more seconds, wiping her mouth with a soft towel, eren laid her back down with a groan and tossed the towel in the laundry bin outside of her room, turning the light off and finally being able to lay down.

resting his head on your chest and wrapping his arm around your waist, he took a deep breath and exhaled, closing his eyes.

dozing off, you were both woken up by a loud cry, once again.

eren pat your waist, your eyes fluttering open. he got off of you and rolled over to the other side. “the baby.” he mumbled.

you sighed, sitting up.

Madam Kamo - C.K.

Synopsis. Bréeding kínk? Going feraI? What the hell is that? Maybe your sweet clan leader husband knows the answer…

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, clan leader! Choso, arranged marriage, mentions of heirs, he’s a little ínsane, elders are awful, MARATHONS, he goes FÉRAL, BRÉEDING, creampíes, a lot of cúmplay, semi-public, dóm Choso, oraI (fem rec), cervíx kíssing, making it fit, bulges, cúmflations, matíng presses, dúmbification, overstím, making him CRY, p talking, spítting, HEADLOCKS, slight 5 + 1 things, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 9.3k

A/N. CLAN LEADER CHOSO CLAN LEADER CHOSO

Choso Kamo - firstborn son of the ancient Kamo clan, more of a myth than a man.

Those who attended the sprawling Kamo Estate never dared utter a word about him; and those who didn’t, well, he was all that they could talk about.

He left no evidence, he left no remorse. 

Only rumors of a silent, stoic leader who could slaughter four entirely different clans before he let even a singular whisper of it spread amongst the masses. Ones of pretty mahogany eyes, and a silver bow and arrows that hit the target of your very soul - so fluid it was as if he’d forged the weapon with his own blood. 

And then there were the other rumors - more gossip than anything, really. Spread throughout every nook and cranny of stuffy social functions about how the deadly Kamo clan leader had another, secretive side. A softer side.

But, of course, rumors were rumors. Choso Kamo was simply an enigma.

And…your new husband.

“Zoning out, hm?” A hot gust of breath sends shivers sprinting down your spine, and in an instant you’re snapping your eyes to latch onto deep, hazel ones. Choso’s. The edge of his plump lips curl slightly upwards, “My apologies, this wedding reception is quite droning, isn’t it?”

Hastily breathing, “N-no! Of course not, I…” You’re wincing when yet another wizened elder saunters up to the raised platform of your table. Probably the hundredth of the night. “-yeah, maybe a bit.”

Choso stifles out a rumbling bout of chuckles as he catches your gaze, so close now that his pearly white teeth almost nick your sensitive earlobe. “Let me take care of this, my wife.”

And when Choso shifts over to nod curtly at your oncoming guest, you couldn’t help but appreciate how beautiful he is. All tall, towering lines of lean muscle, his silken black yukata wafting of heady cologne, and delicate features that made him have almost as many admirers as he did foes. 

Or, at least, delicate features that were currently twisted into something hardened. Something exactly like clan leader Kamo of all the stories. 

He’s tilting his head up, long lashes narrowed, “Elder Tanaka, a pleasure.”

“No no! The pleasure’s all mine.” The older man slurs drunkenly, and despite the way his words were just dripping with saccharine sweet politeness, years of suffering through these exact interactions had made it easy for you to spot faux niceties. Like right now. “Or should I say- the new madam’s. You must be glad to marry into a clan as esteemed as the Kamo’s.”

The plastic smile that smears all over your face is painful, and you’re biting your tongue before it betrays you. “Yes, of c-”

“My apologies for cutting in, madam.” You’re startling - but you don’t know whether it’s because of the softened fingerpads that intertwine around yours, or the utter fire curdling in Choso’s eyes. “But I must say, I am the lucky one here.”

Oh.

Elder Tanaka is more impressive than you thought - his mask of respect barely even cracks, other than the jerky twitch of one eye. Honestly, you don’t think he’s ever heard Choso speak this much ever before. Quickly gathering his bearings, “Ah- ah, of course, master Kamo! Correct as always!”

Fuck- you can’t hold back the way you roll your eyes, only remembering yourself when Choso’s engulfing hands loosen from your own to give your thigh a warm squeeze. 

“You have wedded quite the catch, of course of course.” Your unwelcome company finally, finally looks at you properly. A sneer coating his slow blinking, “I-I simply meant that considering the master’s incredible power, wealth, and options, what she brings to the table-”

“-is herself.” Choso finishes off monotonically. “And that’s all I need.”

Choso’s words were husky, his grip on you tight. And you wonder if he even realized just how hard he was clutching onto your heated skin - mountains of his palm dragging a smooth up n’ down your clothed leg.

You knew he was well-hidden underneath the lacy tablecloth, you knew that not a single elder, family member, or friend bustling about your wedding reception could see that particular touch over the dim yolky lighting. 

But something about it just made you feel hot. 

It takes you a few fuzzy seconds to realize that Elder Tanaka was still speaking - in fact, he’d even summoned over a few more members of the council to encircle your decadent table. All the more voices speaking at you rather than to you.

“-that’s what I was saying-” You’re catching croaked-out snatches of conversation, warily eyeing the way the men clap each other supportively on their backs.“-it’s about the right time don’t you think?”

Another one nods, “Jin has been waiting for so long, after all-”

“-yes yes, to have an heir-”

Oh.

That’s what had Choso’s high cheekbones currently dusted with a faintly blossoming rose pink. That’s what had his thickened digits dipping past your luxurious evening yukata to rover between your thighs higher, and higher- like he didn’t even realize what he was doing. 

Like he was yearning for it.

“The Kamo clan shall have an heir.” You’re interrupting their ramblings, the mere sound of your voice enough to make Choso’s fingertips twitch. Smooth skin prickling with heaps of goosebumps already when you lock eyes right with his. “As soon as my husband is ready, right?”

And Choso Kamo was brought up with the most rigorous of training, raised to never show even the barest flicker of emotion - especially one where he’s caught off guard.

But right now he knows that he looks as stunned as he feels.

Coral pink maw falling into a soft oh! dark whirlpools of his eyes glinting with something so utterly raw. The trembling tips of his fingers lurch up just the barest inch to drag a lazy line down your pussymound. 

He’s instantaneously shifting his free hand up in one, fluid motion to cover the feverishly flushed half of his face. Jaw clenching with a sharp click! of his teeth when he swipes the fat pad of his thumb down a fresh bead of your leaking slick, making such a flimsy mess of your drenched panties. Was this all for him?

Because now Choso’s getting…greedy.

And you’re almost letting off a slight whimper when he hastily drags his scouring hand away - that is, before every and any sound dies in your throat once your husband dips his wetted thumb past his lips and sucks. 

Subtly. 

And his voice cracks oh-so-pathetically, “R-right.”

Eyes staring deeply into yours when he parts his doughy fingertips mere millimeters to lather it with a fat wad of saliva. Your breath hitches in your chest, frantically glancing at the babbling group of men who were, thankfully, way too absorbed in themselves to notice your little…tryst.

And it’s only with all his years as a seasoned fighter that Choso’s nuzzling his soaked digits back between your jittery thighs. In a flash.

Planting exactly three soppy smack! smack! smacks! plapped onto the perfect arch of your drooling pussy. Choso’s raising his neat brows at just how those tremors make you squirm in your seat.

“Ch-Cho—so-” You’re gasping under your breath, hips repeatedly shuffling on your cushiony chair when he licks up repeated, sultry circles- no, wait, hearts along the slippery slit of your covered cunt. Up and down. “Th-they might see…”

“Shhh, don’t want them to hear, baby.” He’s leaning in to pant out a murked cloud against your ear, throat bobbing with a ravenous swallow of saliva as he then probes a few stuffy fingers under your panties. “You seem stressed– Let me take care of it.”

Oh, it was a promise - and the rasping growl that bled into Choso’s tone told you that he was well and fully intent on accomplishing his little task. “Spread those pretty legs now.”

With a steady, muscular calf hooked with your own, he’s cracking your thighs evermore parted. The scorching hot press of his big, beefy forearm over your shoulders making you feel as if you’re on the verge of melting. Practically on his lap now-

“Is everything alright, master–?” You’re hearing from what sounds like somewhere over in the distance, even though you already know that it’s from right in front of you.

“Everything is quite alright.” Choso’s plush pecs vibrate with his rapid answer, and you’re finding yourself leaning your weight onto his. Huffing and puffing near the crook of his neck, “It seems the madam is just feeling a little ah…tired, right now. Continue your talk, elders.”

Tired - you couldn’t feel more riled up if you even tried.

“Ngh- Choso-” You’re sinking your teeth into your wobbly lower lip, hard enough to draw blood. High, carved chair singing off a slight creak! when you’re bucking your hips up to jostle his gluttonous fingers closer to where you wanted him the most. “-need you.”

Well, whatever his wife wanted - you got. 

In simple nanoseconds, Choso’s snugly prying away your gauzy lace. Letting the too-thin fabric snap back against your sappy cunt with a teasing little swat!

Before you can blink, he’s gracing your panties with microscopic tears at just how eager he was to give your plump, buttony clit a good, hard push. Cold golden wedding ring perking up against your most tender spots. Flexible wrists bending towards an even vulgarly deep angle to keep you from escaping-

And you think you could scream, you think you could open your mouth to make a scene - before Choso beats you to it. Purring out an oblivious, “Is everything alright, my wife? You seem a little feverish.”

All the while slipping n’ sliding his fingerpads to smear your gluey pussylips open. Mazing down, down, down in a lecherous little pace to plug up your geysering entrance snugly full with two of his fattened digits. 

You’re clutching helplessly onto Choso’s thick yukata sleeve when the elders stare over at you curiously, “I-I’m fine, Ch- my husband. Just a few post-wedding jitters.”

“Awww, that’s alright.” He’s cooing from above you, words sugarcoated with such gentleness - but his hands were anything but. “M’here, m’here.” Setting out a vicious, ceaseless pace that has his manly fingers outlining numerous circles round n’ round your tight, flooding entrance. Motioning in slight, sleazy swirls all around your elastic hole just to fit inside properly. “Your dear Choso’s here, y’know? And I’ll take such good care of you.”

“Ah! Of course-” Ring out the replies, evidently your hurried-out shudders were not enough for your guests to lose interest. Or for Choso, either - because he’s just feeding your slobbering orifice with more fat inches upon grinding inches. “-producing an heir is a very integral part of the marriage contract. It’s understandable to be nervous.”

Shivering, “S-sure.”

“Mhm—” Choso’s trawling his pouted mouth down your perspiration-simmered temple, “-a very integral part. But, of course, we’ve got to make sure that my beloved wife is-” Quirking the very edge of his digits to clash right into the target of your g-spot. “-ready, after all.”

The clingy embrace of your warm cunt so cozy that it’s bumping Choso’s metallic ring further and further from his hilled knuckles to dredge out a chilling, languid massage along your channel. 

It takes everything in you to manage up a half-heartedly narrowed glare up at your chatting husband, easily conversing his way through every battering ram being placed on your pretty pussy. 

He doesn’t make a sign - he doesn’t even make a noise. Nothing except for a sharp, sudden inhale once another innocent peck at your lips makes your filthy hole fountain out a fresh lather of sickly sweet juices. 

Dripping all the way down to his wrist with thickly viscous adhesive, he’s making such a fucking mess. And a loud one, too. 

Slurp after slurp being wrenched out with every pound of his neatly cut nails patterning out little indents onto your most favorite spots - ones that have your legs shaking underneath the humid table. Choso’s bouncing his knee to drum out a staccato against the floor, just to cover up your cute little melody.

He has you going insane.

You’re pushing apart your legs to dig into either side of your chair with just how desperate you were for him. For more more more.

Bumping your thigh against one of his, and the mere touch is enough to send shockwaves down Choso’s sloped body. 

“Trying to tease me, baby?” He’s hovering over you even closer, darting out a hefty thud! of two fingertips- no, three - when did he even bully in another one - onto the goopy roof of your cunt. 

“M’not-” You’re biting out, head lolling ever-so-slightly backwards when Choso furrows his brows and pumps out copious thrusts that hit your forbidden g-spot dead on. Engulfed so deeply inside your hot core that the gentle curves of his palm smudge against your clit now. “J-just keep- talking.”

And, truly, it wasn’t just because your company was peering over the two of you expectantly - it was because Choso sounded so very hot. 

Vibrato husky with an animalistic sort of need, tremoring ever-so-slightly-

“Agreed, I would like a few sons and daughters.” Choso’s nodding along smoothly, although his full attention is focused on you. His wife. And the way your sweltering hot gummy walls clench around his bludgeoning fingers even tighter at the words. Faster. “Maybe three. Maybe five. Although, it’s up to the madam.”

In the corner of your eye, you’re catching them all staring at you, and you urgently force out a nod.

“C’mon now, answer them using your words like a big girl, why don’t you–?” He’s humming, tilting your burning face up. Faster. So that you can’t hide.

Lilting shrill just as unbalanced as your head was, “Y-yes-”

But of course, that wasn’t enough - that would never be enough. “Louder. They can’t hear you over the music, baby.”

Can’t do anything but claw down drawings of red, red lines all across Choso’s milky arms when he bustles into the targets of your honeyed spots even harder. Unsteady syllables spilling out from your lip before you can even register them, “Yes- yes. As…many as possible.”

“That’s it- good girl.”

Fuck. 

And those raked scratches make perfect artwork for him to admire - just as he was admiring you right now. 

It was just such a shame that the others here were, too, even if they didn’t know the complete and utter sin happening just underneath the table cloth. Sloppier. 

Choso’s kissing his teeth, broad deltoids of his shoulder positioning to hide you away from any sleazy gazes. Because they could be near, but they couldn’t see. You were his.

“Then, it’s settled-” He’s drawling, hooded eyes locked onto you. Memorizing your every minute twitch and reaction when he urges his free hand to hold onto yours on your lap. Or, at least, that’s what it looked like to the outside. In fact, Choso’s snugly prying apart your silken robes to roll over your throbbing clit and pinch. “-we can look forward to an heir, soon. Right, madam?”

And that’s all it takes for you to cum.

Your head tucking into his sculptured shoulder, thighs closing with a dull clap! as your high crashes into you headfirst. You don’t need to mutter a single sentence for Choso to know.

For his eyes to widen just a fraction at the way your treacly slit only got infinitely dewier, rounded gumdrops of your slick sprinkling down in a weepy sheen all over his messy hands. Mouth going parched at the realization that you’re orgasming right here, right now. 

“O-oh? Seems my wife agrees.” Choso’s waving those elders away now, not taking his eyes off of you for a single second. It was just too adorable how you were shaking like a leaf at his side, “Well, m’glad. So- so…glad.”

Motioning your hips in such salacious semi-circles to bump up his upright fingers against your every extra sweet orifice.

Your sticky walls were so staggeringly tightly wrapped around him that it’s making his forehead bead with sweat, low puffs of air escaping with every peak he fucks you through. Every peak of white-hot pleasure that he draaags out until your guests are finally - finally - walking back to their own tables. 

“Sh-shit-” you’re mewling when Choso barely hesitates - barely even takes a quick sweep around the room to check who might be looking - before parting from your sappy cunt with a resounding squelch!

Immediately popping those viscously-glazed fingerpads into his starved mouth, he’s letting his glassy eyes sprint to the back of his head. Musing out a moan, “Fuck- fuck!”

You can only watch with an awed gape whilst Choso stares right into your heart-shaped pupils as he cleans himself off. One by one. Before trekking his lustrous fingers back over to your cunt, and measuring out a wide few inches - perhaps nine - from the base of your teary entrance up to your tummy.

“Choso…” you’re whispering, hazy eyes blinking up at him as if through molasses. “Wha’s that for?”

And Choso only grins, stray range of knuckles thoroughly bitten underneath his gleaming canines while he measures you up. 

As if he was holding back. Keeping himself sane. And the half-lided greed in Choso’s eyes told you that he’d fuck you all proper right here and right now if he could. “N-nothing- just making sure of somethin’, my wife. Making sure that you can take me.”

Oh. 

This was far from over. You were fucked. 

And you were completely and utterly sure of it even if the topic of an…heir didn’t come up for the next few days after that. 

Not that you didn’t think about it, though - it was hard not to, when your fatally notorious husband showed such a tender side of himself with his younger brothers. 

With you.

And soon enough even through all the bustling meetings and duties of a madam, you’re still figuring out a way to tell Choso that you really weren’t kidding about what you said during that wedding reception.

Sure, you were drunk on his fingers but - that wasn’t just all, was it?

But you’d sorely underestimated just how busy a clan leader could get. And before you knew it, putting off the conversation for the morning after your wedding night had turned into putting it off for the weekend. 

Then putting it off for next week. Two weeks. 

All the way until you’re trudging along the winding corridors of the Kamo Estate during the most unholy hours of the night. Grumbling groggily to yourself about how you’d finally told him and it had ended supremely well - in a dream, that is.

Choso had been absent for almost the entire day today, attending an important land negotiation with a far-off clan, according to Jin. 

Now, you knew just how powerful your husband was - it was impossible to escape the legends and rumors, in fact - and you trusted him. Still, you couldn’t help but toss and turn the entire night away in your coldly empty bed as you wondered just how safe he would get home.

You’d been to such veiled conferences before, after all. 

And it’s simply pure worry that has you dragging yourself out of your king-sized bed to shuffle into the barely-lit kitchen. Stifling half-blindly in the moonlight through cabinets and coolers to find ah! Exactly what you’ve been looking for. 

Thank goodness this place was empty right now, you didn’t know if you could handle it if the chef was here to lecture you about balanced diets when you’re bites deep into your sugary, shaved icing.

And it’s exactly with this thought in mind that you hear a loud thud! emanating from the far end of the hallway. Your eyes widen, ears searching for more-

Footsteps. 

At this time? Your fingers itch towards the sparkling display of knives tucked in one corner of the granite counter. Ready to aim for that tall approaching shadow, ready to fling just as Choso had taught you when-

“Baby?”

“Oh–” Your breath comes out in a heavy gust of relief, eyes unable to tear away from the shaded outline of your husband, taking up every inch of the doorway. “It’s just you, Cho.”

It was. But there was something about Choso that seemed…different. Off. 

But not in a bad way - your eyes rover appreciatively over the tautly flexed muscles of his upper half, peeking out almost-blasphemously where he’d shrugged the upper half of his deep purple yukata off. 

Glinting bow and arrow stained with crimson, held in one tightly-gripped hand. Your nose wrinkles at the slight, dangerous scent of something metallic. Something not his. 

Yet, you can’t help but ogle the slow path of dewdropped sweat trailing down between the curvaceous bulge of his heaving pecs, bumping up and down over his washboard abs, before disappearing below-

It’s like you’re being bolted with an instant flash of lightning as soon as this happens, snapping your eyes over to find Choso’s weighty ones. And oh- the moment you do it’s like something in him melts. 

THUD!

You’re jumping when his weapons hit the floor - uncaring of whether this might alert anyone else in the household, uncaring of anything other than crossing the sizzling distance between the two of you in three urgent strides. 

You don’t even have the time to process it before Choso halts right before you and falls to his knees. Dark lashes fluttering up at you, he echoes, “Baby.”

Like a broken little mantra. 

“Ch-Choso- baby-” It’s just about the only thing you can manage out through hollowed gasps when he’s immediately digging two hands on either side of your hips to easily and pliably seat you on the icy counter. Just where he wanted. “-what’s gotten into you?”

“Dunno.” He’s garbling out, and you’re letting your boneless legs tumble further and further open to let him bury his face right at his favorite place - into your fluttering cunt. “Was jus’ thinking about you alllll day.”

And you could tell.

Because Choso’s every movement was depraved. Jerky. His sensory fingertips trembling when they card underneath your cottony sleep garments, bringing it up to his canines to rip–!

All with his mouth.

“Fuh-fuck-” You’re squealing at the sudden hit of cold air - followed very closely by a scorching hot breeze overtaking every inch of your cunt when Choso leans in and sniffs. Long, hard. Curdling out a feral keen at the back of his throat, “-that’s so filthy, baby.”

“Nothing’s filthy for me if s’you, madam.” At the glint of something slobbering and sharp, you can tell that he’s grinning. “If s’you or…her.”

He was enamored with your ready core, curving a gentle thumb down the glossy edges to give your driveling hole a good trickle of spittle. 

And Choso Kamo knew he had perfect aim - he knew he didn’t have to make a mess. 

But oh, he couldn’t keep himself from tilting his head just degrees to the side to let the splatters leave dripping wet splotches down your saturated folds, your inner thighs. 

Tongue so long, lolling out drunkenly to smear away that filthy excess. He’s poking heated ounces again and again back into your soppy entrance. You were practically flooding torrents of sweet, sweet juices around him, already making a mess that lacquers his dimpled chin. 

You were always so sweet - so good for him. And he can feel his ears pop already with the greedy anticipation of what he was craving to do. 

“Think you missed me, too.” He’s snickering, teeth sinking down onto the fleshy nub of your clit. It’s enough to make you want to sob. “Didn’t ya?”

Gyrating your hips in such hypnotizing little swivels off of the smooth counter, you’re feeling his candied breaths hit your gummy walls even deeper. Sloppier. Whimpering out, “Yes- yes. Missed you so badly, Cho–”

“Oh yeah?” He’s tensing up the dexterous edge of his tongue to swipe up unhurried skids of his roughened tastebuds around and around your quivering entrance. In and out. Syrupy slick leaking in heaps right as he does, Choso tilts his head back to let those gooey masses slide down his throat. “Mmm— you’re wetter than usual, baby. How badly do you want the ngh- clan leader on his knees for you, hm?”

It was true - and Choso can feel something coiling and coiling heatedly at the base of his stomach at the idea of giving you perhaps…a kid…or two to make sure you’re not so lonely anymore. 

Ah, he was pussydrunk. 

“So- too badly.” You don’t think you’d ever be babbling away like this if Choso wasn’t making out with your needy cunt like that. 

You’re tangling your fingers hastily into his dark, silken locks - gripping desperately onto his sweat-dampened scalp as you use up all your strength and push. All the way until the very tip of Choso’s button nose was meeting your pulsing clit in a harsh smooch, his chin smacking the teary ends of your cunt.

Words tremoring against the very outer ring of your puffy pussy, silvery strings of saliva n’ sap break off when Choso mutters, “Was talkin’ to her, y’know?”

Fuck. 

And you think you would be huffing and puffing about how he was talking with your dousingly wet cunt instead of you. 

That is, if you weren’t talking back to him from between your legs. 

Because the only thing louder than the slack-jawed ah! ah! ah! leaving your lips with every repeated thrust of Choso’s tongue, was the sound of your soppy squelches. “Ohhh- so that’s how your day was? Tell me more…”

So loud - so embarrassing that you can feel your heart race.

And Choso’s was, too, but for a much more lecherous reason as his tongue clashes even harder to draw out those very same pretty noises from you. He was craning his ears closer - he was addicted. 

“Yeah-  yeah, tha’s right.” Choso’s groaning, eyes faltering droopily until they were almost shut at the way his husking growls only make you wetter. Well, he could help with that. Hitting your hot core with wad after weighty wad of even more sugary spit. “Thaaaat’s fuckin’ right, missed how mouthy you hah- are. My talkative girl.”

“Cho- ngh!” You’re biting down on your tongue to hold back your words when Choso raises up a hand to leave a solid spank right on your bloated pussymound. 

He’s nodding along, head lurching intoxicatedly ever closer and closer. Wiping away a glistening streak of slick painted over his blushing cheeks - his blushing cheeks. “That’s right- would’ve made a- haaaah- a whole lotta b-better points than that stupid council does.”

Before pecking a lingering French kiss on your throbbing clit like a lover would. 

And you count one, two, three- partway through four before Choso seems to remember that he’s still in the middle of his conversation with your cute cunt. It’s rude to leave her hanging, he’s pondering.

“Well-” Stringing himself away with such a pained grunt, cerise lower lip plumping out in a pout at the mere thought of being away from you. “-better points than that stupid council d-did. They won’t be making aaaaany comments ‘bout you anymore, madam.”

Your leaden eyelids struggle to flitter open, “Wh-what do you ngh- mean, baby?”

But the only response you get is a quick staccato of swats at your leaky slit, before Choso’s curling in a thick thumb past your watering lips and in to your slicked entrance. Followed by the delicious drag of his lengthy tongue doubly slipping back inside.

Thrust after thrust. 

So extensive that he was skimming across all your ridges, mapping out every sweet spot of yours on his mouth. Your adhesive walls were clinging onto him like a vice, sappy mushes making him pry apart your thighs even more through furrowed brows. 

“Jus’- just means-” He can’t even bear to speak. To break off from stretching you staggeringly open. Your legs wrap mindlessly around Choso’s ravenous head, “-means I don’t let anyone- hah- say anythin’ about my wife.” 

Without a second thought, your eyes find his splayed-out arrows on the floor. The way they were sullied with red…

Oh. 

But you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything other than let your head jerk backwards, muffing out slight whimpers when he alternates in such sloppy measures between swirling the fattened expanse of his tongue all over every possible spot of your gummy walls and sucking on your clit like his favorite candy.

“They won’t say- do- anythin’—” In so deep now that all you could make out were numerous wet gurgles. And the pure, unadulterated love in Choso’s tone when he twists his thumb to graze right against your bruised and battered g-spot. Hard. “Not when I love her so much.”

He’s gonna raise your kids to love you just as damn much.

And when you cum, you think you might be sobbing - you’re shaking. 

Flurries of stars bursting behind your eyes as you dig your fingers through your husband’s perspired strands. Keening out, “Fuck- m’cumming- m’cumming–”

“I know I know.” He smirks hotly against your puffy pussy lips, so close that you could feel the cratered dimple of his grin. “Yer cute cunt told me, baby– heh- wouldn’t mind being welcomed ah- home by my wife like this every day.”

He lets himself be manhandled, pulled and pushed to your every whim. One of the strongest clan leaders whimpering - whimpering - when you pull just a bit too hard to mash his cushiony mouth in a deeper kiss. 

Hot. Sappy. 

You’re still shaking with sparking bouts of heat that rush down and up your spine, legs twitching when Choso pulls away with a loudly kissed mwah! Overly exaggerated just to see that shy, fucked-out expression on your face. 

He was so unfairly pretty like this - a delicate red blush burning all over his face, eyes half-lidded like he was feverish. A shimmery spray of your juiced slick drips down his chin, his bruised lips, all the way up to his regal cheekbones. 

He made a mess. And he was wearing it like a badge of honor.

Rising up, up, up to shutter your ajar jaw and plant a drenching kiss. Choso always left your mind so melty and stupid no matter what he did. 

“Do you…do you want some hngh- sh-shaved ice?” You’re babbling with your cottony tongue, unsure of what exactly to say after something as intense as…that. 

“Nah-” One kiss. Another Two. Five. “-I jus’ had something a whooole lot sweeter, madam.”

Right now it was so quiet in your kitchen. Just you, Choso, and the gleaming moonlight illuminating his pussydrunken enchantment. Even more so than usual. 

You’re glissading your arms around his sweat-matted neck, reeling him in even closer. He smells so good, piney cologne searing your senses even despite that tint of iron. Nervously musing, “Hmmm, wonder if s’always gonna be like hah- this whenever I get…cravings.”

Well- it wasn’t exactly what you wanted to say, but, better than nothing.

“Cravings, huh?” Choso’s eyes twinkle - and you’re not sure if that’s a result of the muted lighting or because of what you just said. Hopefully the latter. 

“Well- well just saying I wouldn’t mind if-”

Cutting yourself off, you’re sure it’s the latter when he rests a massive palm, warm against your tummy. Just for a split-second before tucking his big, strong arms underneath your body and propping you in an easy princess carry. “If you have cravings then I’d be the one cooking for ya, my wife. 24/7, at your feet.”

Yeah, you were fucked. 

But you never really realized just how much - just how badly - until just a few days later; seated on the polished hardwood floor of the famed Kamo archery dojo. 

It was routine for your husband to practice his pinpoint precise shooting, and by now it was your routine to watch him. 

How could you not? Because it was such a heavenly sight.

Choso’s pristine, white yukata unravelled at one muscular shoulder; showing off the rippling curves and dips of his sculptured back. Strong. His honed eyes filmed with a focus he only ever gets in bed. Adonis-like biceps bulging in a lecherous little flex when he draws the string back, back, back and lets go-

“YES!” Yuji’s resounding cheer thunders across the vast chamber with way too much volume than a six-year-old should possibly have. “Let’s goooo- big bwother hit the target again.”

A simpering smile stretches across your lips as soon as he turns to you for reassurance, gesturing out a slow nod at the way Choso keeps piercing bullseye after bullseye. “He did, your brother is very talented, Yuji.”

Humming, “When I grow up m’gonna be just like him.” 

“Of course.” You’re chuckling at his enthusiasm - the youngest of your husband’s brother’s always did have a special spot in your heart. And you can’t help but wonder when - if - you had an heir with Choso, whether they would be much the same. “You are his brother, after all.”

You’re frantically hovering your hands behind him once he bustles to a haphazard stand. Stumbling only a few times as he races over to the neat line of inventory, “Then- I’ll be just like him now.”

“Be careful!”

Ah, he really was a handful - which meant, you really didn’t expect it to go over perfectly smoothly. You’d known that simply wouldn’t have been possible as soon as you met Itadori Yuji. 

Yet, you didn’t expect everything to go so wrong in just a mere matter of seconds. 

Before you can even blink, Yuji’d tottered his way over to one particularly large, wooden bow - one used only by Ryomen Sukuna whenever he visited. Puffing out his chest as he reeled out the massively heavy weapon - overly heavy, way too much for even the most determined child-

CRASH!

“Yuji!” You don’t know who yelps louder - you, or Choso. But with your proximity, you’re the one that reaches him first, cradling the sniffling boy in your arms. 

You jostle away the weighty bow - honestly, how he even managed to lift this in the first place you have no idea. 

“Awww, don’t cry don’t cry–” You’re cooing, distantly registering the worried pants of his older brother skidding to a stop beside you. He always did have him curled around his little finger. Pushing away the pinkish curls from his forehead, “-you’re alright. See? You’re alright.”

“Are you hurt? Are you dizzy? Are you feeling nauseous-”

“Choso.” You warn, catching the way Yuji’s eyes widen in panic. 

Taking a few deeply necessary breaths to calm down. “You- don’t do that-” Choso’s hissing, but you could practically feel the worry seeping into his tone. Thumbing slow circles on his aching shoulders, “-ask me for a bow instead.”

You have to bite back a grin - with the watery glaze taking over his eyes, you wondered who was really hurt - Yuji or Choso himself. 

“M’sorry big bwother.” Blubbering through big, pearly tears that dry salty streaks down his chubby cheeks. He’s batting those lashes in a way you’re sure gets him out of any sort of trouble. Ever. The full, merciless force of it hits your poor heart as Yuji turns to you. “Sorry, mama.”

Mama. 

Mama. 

You freeze. Choso freezes.

Hell, even the twittering birds outside freeze mid-song. 

It seems like everyone in the entire world freezes except for an oblivious Yuji who only continues inching his tiny hands closer towards that guilty bow. Clearly not having learned his lesson - but you didn’t even register that right now. 

You’re staring at Choso, only to find that he’s staring right back. Droopy eyes uncharacteristically wide, blinking rapidly - it didn’t even look like he was breathing right now. 

Maw parting and closing stupidly agape, and you’re almost tempted to reach out and check whether he’s doing okay - before he finally finds his voice again. Finally. Husking out a choked-out, “W-well- maybe we should- ah- should-” He’s turning towards his contrastingly okay younger brother, “Yuji?” 

“Big bwother!” Comes the, unfortunately, helpless answer. 

And something in his beaming expression seems to jolt Choso out of his reverie, something that makes him let out a tight nod. Scooping up the giggling boy over his shoulder, he calls out at you, “Wait here.”

As Choso walks out of the doorway, you could only watch.

Only sit there for what could be four seconds - or maybe even four hundred years - until he’d presumably dropped off Yuji at the safety of Jin. Taking steady, focused strides back to you that thud! thud! thud! right along to the beat of your racing heart.

Choso’s expression is blank - pale as if he’s seen a fucking ghost. And he doesn’t even look at you, can’t even bear to once he walks back to the thickened air of the dojo. Now pointedly alone. 

Very, very alone. 

Wordlessly, he picks up his famed bow. And you swear that you can see his practiced hands tremble. Something was happening. 

It’s like an artwork that you can’t look away from. The fluid motion of aligning a singular arrow to aim for his final, rounded target. Doughy pads of his fingers pinching the string back, back, back until it snaps!

And misses. For the first time in years.

“Fuck.”

You barely have the time to compute - to even suck in a gasp of surprise before your husband comes and crashes into you. It’s as if he was magnetized and couldn’t get away even if he wanted to. 

It’s a frenzy of white billowing sleeves and powerful arms, throwing you over Choso’s shoulder in only two seconds flat - much the same way that he’d done with Yuji moments prior.

Except more…urgent. 

“Choso- Cho!” You’re squealing, as he lurches into hurried treads away. Legs kicking weakly in the air, only for your stubborn self to be granted with an unapologetic spank! right on the mound of your ass. Your nose crinkles as his long, inky locks tickle your face, “What is-”

“Be quiet.” Choso’s rasping, so small that it could not have been more than a whisper. So close that you’re drinking in heady wafts of his masculine cologne. 

Something in his snarling tone makes your stomach tighten. Digits grappling precariously onto the toned curves of his shoulders, your fingertips slide down the sweltering expanse of his exposed skin. 

And only too late do you recognize the familiar pathway towards your shared bed chamber- oh. 

So that was what it was. 

And judging by the dark, primal look swimming in the clan leader’s eyes you could only hope that you made it out alive-

SLAM!

You don’t know what’s forcing you more out of your excited little reverie - the shuddered slam! of your mahogany double doors, so hard that it makes the golden hinges shake, or the way you’re thrown haphazardly on the bed. 

Like some glorified toy. One of Choso’s favorites. 

You’re throwing your arms over his broad shoulders as you fall, lugging him in even closer with each springy bounce on the bedcoils. 

But closer wasn’t close enough for your husband - he’s bullying into every ounce of your personal space, caging you in between two splayed-out palms on either side of your thoroughly spinning head.

“Mama, is it?” Choso starts out. Slow. Thick. Like he was approaching a cornered prey. “Baby, I want…I want it.”

You’re blinking up at him through eager eyes, “Want what, Cho?” 

“I want an heir. I want to make you…” He gulps. The circles of his fingertips were so warm on your skin, trailing down lovingly all across your cheek. Your collarbones, your heaving tits - down to where you predictably flinched as he palmed your tummy. “-a pretty momma.”

Fawny strands of chestnut brown curtain his gaze, but you could tell just how serious he was. Just how greedy. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Choso like this in his entire life. 

All you can breathe out is a crackling, “Yes.”

You said it. You finally said it after all these weeks. 

And it’s the only thing you hear before your yukata is all but torn off of you, Choso doesn’t even realize when he’s doing so. It’s melting away like butter underneath his strength, mere obstacles to where the real prize is - your gorgeous, shivering body.

Pebbles of goosebumps rise onto the surface of your flesh when he throws away those useless pieces of fabrics onto the tatami floor - you can have more newly tailored anyway. Many, many more with just how round and full you’re about to be very soon. 

He’d take care of it for you.

“Oh, madam- madam.” He’s spitting into your unfastened mouth, low growls sounding out across each four corners of your room. Held hostage by the arousal in your eyes, he can’t stop staring. “M’gonna ruin you.”

And Choso is feral like never before. 

Usually one to take his time during sex, finetuning you into it like a sultry waltz. His favorite hobby was to drive you mindlessly wild before he even thought of stuffing you full. But now…

Still not breaking his dreamy eye contact with you, Choso hooks a rapidfire finger over the cute bow-tied hem of your panties. Slurring down an oozing little snail trail of slick that laminates your jittery thighs with evidence of just how badly you wanted him. 

You feel the blistering pant of his mindless oh! fanning your features, leaning backwards with a loosened maw to admire just how glistening you are in this lighting. 

How ready.

With a low, fucked-up whimper breaking at the back of his throat, he rubs over the bloated curvature of your needy pussy. Slipping ever-so-slightly at the saturated puddles leaking out, Choso has no hesitation or shame when he tugs his fingerpads into his mouth once. 

Twice. Thrice. 

Dipping back down for more and more and more-

“Can’t-” He’s guttering out, eyes crinkling and- fuck, were those tears? “I c-”

You reach your hand up to smear away his hot rivulets of salt, and Choso stops his prattling like a broken record forced to a halt. He jolts as if your touch has just sent a zillion shocks of voltage down his spine, all the trekking trailway down to his furious, aching cock. 

Unsteady hands flinging apart his snowy robes - barely even bothering to remove them and wrench down his undergarments before you see it. You finally understand why Choso was so…restless.

Because he’s never been harder. 

Fuck being furious, his bawling cock was seething. Equally as red as the ripest of strawberries, the split-ended crown of his cockhead was just as plumply swollen. All proud inches nestled underneath his painfully-clenching breeder balls, ballooned and lush. Only the barest of your gaze is enough to make Choso’s lustrous tip twitch, laminating himself with a freshly dripping glaze of translucent pre. 

Though, it’s not like you were doing any better. 

Your gluey lips pucker and pout up at him once he’s wrangling your legs into a boneless hold. The feeling of his palms underneath your thighs are so soft - even despite his battle-hardened calluses. Worshipping. 

But the way he’s resting your legs on his shoulders, and folding you in half like a whining lawnchair is the complete opposite. Mercilessly into a-

“M-mating press-” Choso’s getting out through strangled breaths, as if the sole words had his poor sanity fraying at the edges. “-mating press- a- a-” Something he’s never tried out before. His head dips down, pearls of sweat simmering across his trembly upper lip as soon as your sticky folds leave a wet snog on his fattened mushroomy tip. Topping it with a generous heap of honeyed sap, “Well, hello there, baby. I have you in a mating press n’ m’gonna…gonna…”

He couldn’t even finish his sentence. 

Couldn’t even finish his thought before Choso was doing - body moving miles and miles ahead of his stupidly saccharine-sweet mind. 

“F-fuuuuck–” You’re letting off the keenest of whines, the edges of your nails leaving neat crescents all over his toned back. It was the perfect little present for the way he had you so split open. 

And he was barely even pushing past the tip. 

“Oh. Oh.” Choso’s grunts are throaty, as if they weren’t coming from the man himself but somewhere murked and dark inside him. And the same went for his feverish thrusts - tight, rigid little pushes past your slicked-up hole just to fit inside. He’s spitting into your slacked mouth, “C’mon- c’mon c’mon–”

Usually, it takes so long to prepare you to take his nine- no, ten inches. But currently, fast just wasn’t fast enough.

There’s a thundering slam! abovehead - only hours and hours later do you have enough brainpower to realize that it was Choso striking his palm down on the headboard - and it makes your clingy walls grip onto the battering mountain of his dewy head. 

Squeezing in a repeatedly adhesive-like tempo, Choso’s nose crinkles at the rubbery resistance of your snug hole. Still molding to the slightest curves and ridges of his drowned slit with every desperate rut-

“Please- take it- fucking take it.” His voice was trembling on the edge of a crack, thickened exactly the way one does when he’s about to cry. “H-how can I fuck! How can I breed ya…if I don’t-”

And you’re swearing you see his ruddied cheeks glisten with a few slipped-off tears - though, that just might be from the way that your own vision mists over when his stray hand plugs up your spilling entrance to pry two thickened, scissoring digits inside and stretch. “Fucking- take that big fuckin’- cock-”

Bullying in a few more long n’ girthy inches- You’re so full that it feels like Choso’s pushing his bloated crownhead against the spongy edges of your lungs. 

The bed dips and moans with frequent soft creaks! when he plants his curved knees firmly further apart. Flexibly so. And you’re getting a good, greedy eyeful of his pale, bulky thighs - angling at the perfect bend to snap his slender hips and jackhammer-

“Sh-shit-” Your head sinks into the cushiony pillows underneath you, and it already feels like you’re in heaven. “-don’t- don’t know if it’ll fit, Cho–”

With a bitten lip, Choso rovers down his sturdy hand from the surface of the bedframe to measure out ten solid inches. Bringing it down much the same way he did during your wedding reception, “Y-you can, baby–”

“But-”

“You will.” He’s gasping, gracing you with a soft brush of his curvaceous mushroomed head along one of your utmost favorite hidden sweet spots. It’s enough to make you buck. “Gonna take my cock, n’ you’re gonna haaah- take my seed ‘ntil you’re bloated. So I’ll make it fit- fuck- watch, I’ll make it fit.” Before you know it, that very same hand finds itself crowning your head, threatening to push you down- “C-can you say hngh- ‘biiiig stretch’ f’me?”

You’re hiccuping out, “B-big stretch?”

“Nuh uh-” By the time that Choso shakes his head, you’re being sprinkled with loose flecks of his sweat. He was in so deep now. “Say it with me- b-biiig stretch, baby–”

“B-biiig- stretch!” It takes you everything in your body to hold your own against the vicious pounds being planted and struggled into your goopy depths. Choso was determined. Frenzied. 

And god, the way you’re dumbly parroting his words is so hot. He can’t help but dollop out muggy icings of pre that slosh and swab at every nook and cranny inside you. 

“Good girl.” Rewarding you with a slow heart being patterned right on the throbbing peak of your clit, the roughened edges of his fingertips rub you just right. Not too hard. Not too soft. Your husband nuzzles his flushed head into the havened crook of your clammy neck, “S-say it again, madam.”

“Biiig-”

Honestly, it’s a wonder you manage to get exactly two syllables out at all. Because soon enough, Choso’s taking your distracted few seconds to lace his fingers onto your scalp push. To bump his hips back until your geysering cunt was struggling around his fat, bulbous tip.

Before stuffing you full all the way in-

“Fuck- no.” Choso’s spitting out venomously against your thrumming pulse, sharp fringes of his teeth digging in animalistically. Bottomed out but still pushing and pushing- Slamming a lazy stripe of luscious precum down your spongy cervix, “No- no no–”

No sooner are you full of all his massive, rummaging length, he’s making you take even more. This time in the form of dribbling, ribbony volumes of cum that leak and leak and won’t stop from his heated divot. 

It’s ballooning up your tight channel even more. Swashing around and sticking to your gummy walls like a treacly lacquer. Filling you to your very brim-

“S-so much.” You’re gaping, through tear-strung lashes. The shivering edges of your fingers subconsciously dance downwards to splotch over the puddling globs of seed tricking from either side of your sloppy slit. Squeezing out even more to coat Choso’s bulky base with creamy rings upon rings. 

And, usually, your husband might be just a bit embarrassed. Usually, he would have pulled out to make out with your pretty pussy until your scores were more than tied.

But that wasn’t your husband right now. 

“Don’t.” Choso clicks his drunkenly heavy tongue, lips pulling back into what almost looks like an oh-so-feral snarl. And you have to admit that it looks so sexy on him. He’s rudely swatting away your curious hand, “Move that fucking hand n’ let me see.”

It takes only a split-second for both your hands to be pinned underneath one of Choso Kamo’s. 

“Tha’s not enough to take.”

And only one more split-second for him to flip you over onto your tummy and stuff your head into the cushy pillows. 

He’s fucking you like he’s using you. Like he’s pumping his mushy, swollen head to nudge in the weighty heft of his cum deeper and deeper and deeper-

“Y’know I hate hngh- disrespectin’ my wife, baby–” He leans over to sigh against your ear in craving hisses, pinning you with his body. His muscles. You could count each n’ every one of Choso’s bulging abs, glissading damply against your perfectly arched spine. Bubblegum pink nipples pressed roughly into your scorching skin, “Hate it- but…”

You gasp at Choso’s audacity next - at the way it makes you so traitorously soaked when he hikes up one of his feet to rest upon your head. 

Gurgling out a stupid. “Ch-Cho–”

But he didn’t seem to hear you - you didn’t know if he was even managing to breathe at this point. Only letting his devious lips twitch up, up, up into such a satisfied grin. “-but ‘ntil I get my hngh- heh…heir, you’re gonna hafta be my cumdump, madam.”

And if the saturated slurps singing out at a near-deafening tone from your dripping pussy said anything - it was that you loved the idea. 

Especially when the changed angle makes his scouring cockhead maze between the most treasured spots of your jelly-like walls to strike numerous, merciless hits dead-set on your g-spot. 

Ah, there it was, pipes up that small voice in Choso’s overtaken brain. Jostling your hips back onto his with a sudden spank on the target of your drivelling hole, the stinging pressure makes you bump your tenderest spots again and again into his ruthless batters. 

It’s bruising - the proud circumference of his plummy cock against your elastic cervix with every recoiling bounce, the rounded patterns of his balls against the hind of your pretty pussy with each thrust.

If you didn’t think you were being fucked stupid before then you were sure now. 

Your velveteen pillowcase dampens with the ever-flooding saliva spilling from your mouth every time Choso rears his aching shaft back to plant rapid, precise strikes where you wanted him the most. 

Whimpering at how every ramming dab of his split cockhead leaves leakages of pearly white cum all over the bottom of your pussy. That sultry swirl of his dumped heaps inside of you making your head spin just as dizzily. 

You almost don’t notice it when Choso’s drifting both hands to skirt over about halfway down your tummy. Feeling for that bloated, cylindrical outline of him vulgarly messing up your insides, “Gonna be e-even fuller here soon, y’know-” He’s giggling - giggling. Erratically letting his hands slide down to your clit to give the peaked ends just a tiny pinch. “-have you all round. Full. Full-”

He can’t say anything else.

He can’t do anything else - other than watch in purely entranced awe when that makes you cum all over his fucking cock. 

So big n’ thick that your claggy walls can barely even squeeze around his throbbing shaft. The thought makes you huff as he rams rigorously through your blinding high - teeth grit, your fingers fist at the pillows and make sure you can clench-

When you do- oh, when you manage to cling your gummy cunt onto his girth as if to suck out his fucking soul, it makes Choso cum, too.

Fatigued hips somehow matching his cadence, your knees shiver on top of the softened mattress stuttering through every dousing mass of cum gliding inside your cute cunt. It was so heavy having his massive torrentials inside of you, spraying the door to your womb with a slippery sheen.

It was maddening. 

And maybe it’s been hours - maybe it’s been mere minutes. But all you know is that you’re put through rounds and rounds and more rounds. But he’s still not stopping. Still dredging out the tiniest of hollowing grinds. 

Until much, much later Choso’s breath hitches in feverish stutters. It was so steamily hot inside you, only getting more humid by the minute as you ride out yet another crashing high.

“G’na milk e-every ngh- drop-” He titters, fleshy edges of his fingers closing in around where your pussylips were the most buxom. The most leaky. “-n’ you’re gonna ngh- keep it. Keep ‘ntil you give me an h-heir. Remember that, baby– keep it.”

You’re fighting against the weight of his muscular leg on top of you. Was he clamming your pussy shut? 

“Choso, baby.” Your straining out, throat drier than the Sahara at this point. Even despite how the hypnotized way your husband looks at you makes your tongue lather with watery saliva. “Want- want more.”

You think you might just have broken Choso Kamo.

Might just have made him reach another surprising high all over again with just your simple request. He’s lifting off the powerfully pressurized foot crowned on your head in favor of lurching downwards to grab your tender throat into a headlock.

Manhandling you as he pleased. Lifting you off of the tattered pillow, the completely splintered bed frame now. 

Your chin juts over his thick, bulging biceps, fighting for both air and the space-

“More- more, she says-” He’s chuckling out, words cracking a few octaves higher than normal. From the corner of your eye, you sneak glimpses at the way that Choso’s eyes were wide, crazed. Flashing all sorts of feral promises when he plants one, two, three long thuds against your soppy cervix. “Fucking- m-more.”

You’re letting off a tiny whimper - your orgasm nothing but tingles at this point. Yearning for that the piping hot streak of seed flushed into your already-overspilling cunt. Syruping in with the rest of his numerous goopy volumes, it’s thick and needy. 

Only one.

“Sh-shit.” He’s wheezing against your ear, free hand flying down to tug at his reddened base for more more more- one’s not enough. Every possibly wiry wisp and speckle that could fill you up. Could give him an heir. “Can’t cum dry- won’t- oh.”

Rutting into you like Choso won’t stop - didn’t know if he even can stop anymore. You flinch at the suddenly hot splatter! of something warm…and wet at your shoulder. 

“Cho- oh!” Not only was the clan leader drooling out glossy spatters of saliva, he was crying. Hugging you even closer, you’re showered in neverending streams of overstimulated tears.

And Choso can only babble away, “Hope- hope s’a daughter, madam.”

A/N. AYYY y’all have been wanting more dom Choso saurrrr- Anyways hope you have a lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized. 

⋆·˚ ༘ 'she's busy rn'

synopsis ○ 'she's busy rn' but it's not a prank

gojo, geto, nanami, toji, sukuna, yuji, megumi, toge, yuta, choso, uraume

warnings: swearing

author's note ୨୧ anon request! i fear i ate w this one 😔