have you ever seen this man?
he appears in dreams, and whispers,
"i'll take you to a place where all your wishes will come true."
âââwho wouldn't want to go with him?

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@alveolarclicks
have you ever seen this man?
he appears in dreams, and whispers,
"i'll take you to a place where all your wishes will come true."
âââwho wouldn't want to go with him?

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thank you for 100 followers! this is amazing ( â¸â¸Â´ áľ `â¸â¸)
new blogs today/later this week :>
âËęŠď˝Ą chosoâs hands are so cold! (fluff)
the first thing you notice about choso is the cold. not the cold of his personalityâhe's surprisingly gentle, almost shyâbut the literal, physical chill that seems to cling to his fingers and palms like a second skin. it's not his fault, he insists, but you've learned to brace yourself whenever he reaches for you.
it's become a running joke between you two, one that never fails to make him flush a deep, mortified red.
you're curled up on the couch together, some terrible reality show playing on the tv that neither of you are watching. choso is behind you, his long arms wrapped around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. you're trying to read a book, but his presence is distracting in the best way.
then you feel it. the familiar, icy press against your stomach.
you jolt, a half-laugh half-gasp escaping you. "chosoâ"
"sorry," he mumbles, but he doesn't move his hand. instead, he shoves it further under your shirt, pressing his palm flat against your warm skin. you shiver, but not from the cold this time.
"you said you were going to wear gloves today," you tease, trying to focus on your book.
"i forgot," he says, his voice low and sheepish. "and the heater's broken in my room. i've been freezing all day."
"so i'm your personal heater now?"
"yes," he says, completely serious. "you're very good at it."
you can't help but laugh, setting your book aside to cover his hand with both of yours, trying to warm him up. "you're so stupid."
"i know," he murmurs, nuzzling into your neck. "but you like it."
he's not wrong.
it's not just the stomach thing, either. choso has a particular fondness for shoving his hands between your thighs when you're sitting together, especially in the winter. it's not sexualâwell, not alwaysâbut it's intimate in a way that makes your chest ache. he'll be sitting next to you at the dinner table, and suddenly you'll feel those cold fingers pressing against the inside of your thigh, and you'll have to bite your lip to keep from giggling.
"choso," you'll whisper, trying to sound stern. "we're eating!"
"and?â he'll say, completely unbothered, his thumb tracing idle circles on your skin. "your legs are warmer than the blanket."
"you could just use the blanket."
"but you're better."
it's always the same excuse, delivered with such earnestness that you can't even be mad. he's not trying to be suggestive or flirtyâhe genuinely just wants to be warm, and he's decided that you are the best source of heat in his life. it's both hilarious and incredibly sweet.
tonight is no exception. you're both in bed now, the lights off, the room lit only by the moonlight filtering through the window. choso is curled around you, his front pressed to your back, his legs tangled with yours. you're almost asleep when you feel it againâthose familiar, cold fingers sliding between your thighs.
you sigh, but you don't push him away. instead, you shift slightly, giving him better access. his fingers press against the warm skin there, and he lets out a soft, contented sigh.
"so warm," he murmurs, half-asleep.
"i need to start charging you," you whisper back, though there's no heat in your voice.
"i wouldnât mind paying," he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "iâd do anything to keep you here in my arms."
you fall asleep like that, with his cold hands tucked between your thighs, his breath warm against your neck.
and you wouldn't have it any other way.
satoru gojo eats you out until he falls asleep / 0.3k
cw: 18+ mdni gojo is pussy-drunk, oral (f!reader receiving), no use of y/n, fluff
heâs nestled between your legs, his head slightly resting on your thigh, tongue swirling over your swollen clit. heâs been at this for god knows how long alreadyâlicking and suckling on your clit like it was his lifeline.
you were exhausted from the many orgasms he managed to pull from you.
âjust one more, baby,â he pleaded, voice low and a little wrecked, pressing gentle kisses to the inside of your thighs. âcan you do that for me?"
you nodded, and his lips closed around your clit. you moaned breathlessly, back arching slightly off his bed. you dared a glance down at him and your cunt clenched around nothing.
the sight of him alone almost sent you barreling over the edge. his cheeks were glistening with your slick, white hair completely tousled and messy from how hard youâd been pulling on it, those brilliant blue eyes dark and heavy-lidded, lashes fluttering like he was fighting sleep just to keep tasting you.
âsatoru,â you whine, reaching down to grab his hand. he takes hold of it immediately, giving you a gentle squeeze, thumb brushing over your knuckles.
his eyes slip shut as he loses himself in the taste of you. lips still working against your clit, slow and indulgent.
slower. slower. slower.
heâs barely tracing the tip of his tongue through your folds now, movements lazy and dreamy, those long white lashes resting against his flushed cheeks. his breathing has gone deep and even, warm puffs of air against your over-sensitive skin.
you were having an even harder time keeping your own eyes open, but you couldnât fight it off any longer. you fell asleep with satoru sound asleep against the plush of your thighs, his tongue still pressed soft and warm to your clit, his hand still entwined with yours.
Free Trial
Summary: in which Gojo wants to try out the rope his adult toy designer friend created... on himself
Warnings: smut, no p in v, bondage, femdom, reader is the adult toy designer friend in question, breast play, dry humping, masochist!gojo, cumming in pants, set in canon universe, just a short little idea (kinda wanna make it into a series with him just trying out all sorts of sex toys lol. nobody say part 2 or make a request, I will end you), Gojo art by @_3aem on Twitter, not proofread Word Count: 2.9k
âWhere does this even go?â Satoru wondered.
Looking up from your desk, where your newest idea was being sketched out, you answered, âItâs a sounding rod; it enters the urethra and stimulates the nerve endings there. Thatâs actually a part of my Vibrations Series, hence the bulge at the end â thatâs where the battery goes.â
He whistled. You couldnât tell if it was because he was impressed or terrified of the concept. Maybe both.

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HEAVY METAL LOVER (SG)
Synopsis: You're childhood best friends with Satoru Gojo, who you've been avoiding ever since he got into a motorcycle accident. When your mutual friends force you to go to his birthday party, feelings arise, and clothes come off!
Pairing: Gojo x Reader
Content (MDNI): Biker!gojo, Scar!jo, childhood friends to lovers, gojo did almost die in a motorcycle accident, physical rehab, reader mentions being afraid to see gojo's lifeless body, but he's not dead, gojo is battered up (scar!jo), pwp if you squint for the first five hundred words, body worship, they're both pervs hk, p worshiping, p slapping, slight marathon if you also squint, idiots in love, filthy and i mean filthy dirty talk, fingering, creampies, man-handling...i think that's it
Word count: 10.2k...i got carried away. sue me.
A/N: I haven't published fan fiction in YEARS, mind you, but this one TikTok that talked about Scar!Jo being Biker!Jo, after an accident, and i just had to write it.
It was rare for you to hate anything. It was even rarer for you to hate anything related to your friends. You strongly disliked the way Toji would kick his feet up on your coffee table whenever he was over. You were agitated by how nitpicky Geto was whenever everyone went out to eat. You were irritated by the loud scream Yuji and Choso let out after they splashed you with water at Nanamiâs last summer party.Â
You hated Gojoâs motorcycle. You downright despised the unnecessarily loud, clunky, piece of metal death machine that Gojo so happened to still proudly (stupidly) love. Your dislike for that motorcycle really started when he first showed up to your place at nine at night to pick you up for Shokoâs thirtieth birthday party. You walked for fifteen minutes out of the neighborhood before Gojo finally convinced you to get on, and you absolutely despised it. You especially detested the way your legs wobbled, both feeling so unsteady because of the motorcycle, and also from having to grip Gojo so hard that his cologne still hadnât fully detached from your mind.
However, the biggest reason you hated that motorcycle was that it almost cost you your best friend. Itâs been months since you got that call from Geto telling you Gojo was in the hospital because of a motorcycle accident. Apparently, it was pretty bad; he had been unconscious from the amount of blood he lost. Surgery was inevitable if he survived, and by Shokoâs words, it was a miracle that he did. Now every time you see a motorcycle, a pit of disgust builds inside of you, and it takes every part of your rational mind not to bash the thing apart outside of a random store. So, as is normally the case, you silently seethe throughout the day until itâs been so long you just get over it, though a motorcycle wasnât always necessary for that to happen.
husband!satoru đĽš
"why do you want to watch my everything shower again?"
"because i wanna watch how you prepare my meal."
satoru earned a swat on his head after the sentence he said very proud and matter of factly, painfully unaware that he's saying things that makes you shy and red. he was standing behind you in the bathroom that was way too small for a guy like him, his towel hanging on his shoulder. he didn't even bothered to hold your hand from swatting him, just accepted his fate with a shit eating grin.
"you sure you wanna see all the steps?" you insisted, raising a brow as you stripped yourself bareâmost parts unshaved and hair greasy. you didn't wash your hair for specifically this day. and you atleast expected a nose scrunch from satoru that he's judging slightest bit.
no, though. your husband was disgusting and so disgustingly in love with you.
"yeah, i do." his adoring puppy gaze didn't change, instead it roamed on your body shamelessly, like he's looking at a goddess. he doesn't mind you like thisânasty dogâyou seem more raw and human, if it makes sense. and besides, he meant what he said. he wanted to see how you prepare yourself. for him and for yourself.
you sighed and shrugged, letting him trail behind you into the shower. you opened the water in your burning temperature, making sure your body softens for the scrubbing. before your body, you started with washing your hair twice, applying hair care products. then you tied it up with a hairclip, moving for the shaving part.
satoru watched you with an interest of four year old, holding out his thigh for you to use it as a stool as you shave your leg. you gave him a soft chuckle and a thank you kiss on the forehead, and it was enough for him to smile stupid.
he watched every step with serious gaze, like he was memorising it. it's been, what, fifteen minutes in? and you've already done so much that he feels dizzy. seriously, he'd do this once in a month, not once or twice in a week. being a woman wasn't for the weak, for sure.
"what's that for?" he'd occasionally ask when you use something he doesn't know, and you find it so cute. it made your heart warm, how geniune he was. "body scrub. peels off the dead skin," you showed him the coconut body scrub, or peeling, whatever it's calledâand his eyes closed at the smell. "so that's why you smell so good.." he hummed, enjoying how the shower smelled just like you.
"can i do it?" he asked, already standing up and towering you. you nodded with a smile. "yeah, sure."
he was very careful, rubbing your skin with it like it could scratch you. you assured that he could press, that it didn't hurt, and he then applied a small amount of pressure, massaging your skin in the meantime. you relaxed into him, glad that someone took over this exhausting steps.
"you do all these steps for... what, me?" he murmured, his tone soft. you chuckled, peeking up at his face. he looked so concentrated that it made your heart squeeze. his bottom lip was formed into a soft pout. "for you and for myself. i like deep cleaning my body, and i like being clean for you." you responded.
"..damn," he murmured. "just watchin' you made me sleepy, i wonder how you feel."
"im use to it, but it can get very tiring," you hummed, washing the scrub. he helped you, hands gently washing away the scrub under water.
"can i join you in these?" he asked, after you two got out. he insisted on carrying you to the bed, and brushing your hair, because you did seemed tired after doing all that work on your body. "wanna help." he added, placing gentle kisses on your heavenly smelling-soft as a baby's ass skin.
"yeah? you wanna join? you're not disgusted or anything?" you hummed, not to offend him but just.. curious. it'd be totally normal of him to not be in the process of you deep cleaning yourself. though the glare he gave you was both amusing and scary.
"disgusted?" he scoffed, hugging your waist tighter, as if proving otherwise. "y'think 'm that low? you're doin' all that partly for me, and it's anything but disgusting."
you softened, caressing his jaw. "satoruâ"
"wanna help you prepare my meal, that's all," he cut you with a soft smirk, lighting the mood.
you rolled your eyes fondly, smiling nonetheless. "alright, you can join."
he did a little yes! and you giggled.
18+ satoru fucks you with "just" the tip
you knew he was lying; you knew he was a chronic liar. you should've known he couldn't resist shoving himself balls-deep into your cunt and burying himself into you.
you let out a lewd mewl when you feel his fat tip nudge at your poor cervix, almost as if knocking for permission to come in, but he still resisted, knowing he would've probably ripped you open if he didn't. at least he still had that much control.
gummy walls tightening around his hard cock, he slams himself into you persistently and relentlessly, sending electric pleasure coursing through your veins. "m-mmmh! 'toru! t-too full! stop!"
he chuckles, as if it's amusing. as if it's funny that you're being impaled on his enormous dick.
"i know, i know... i lied... but you can take it right? you always do." there's a smug grin that you would love to rip off his face, but all your mind can think of is cumming all over him.
"y-you promised!" you whined through your haze, biting your lip to subdue the moans so he doesn't get the pleasure of hearing it. your chest heaved up and down, taking desperate breaths of air as he assaulted your cunt continuously.
"awhh, but i love you!" he argued, keeping his persistent pace on your soon-to-be-bruised pussy. "do y'know how gorgeous you look when you're fucked dumb like this?" he teases, and you instinctively kicked his leg.
"fuck youuuu," you groan.
"ow!" he flinched, stopping momentarily to rub the spot you hitâ even though he felt almost close to nothing. his member stayed twitching inside you, desperately waiting to fuck you.
"you deserved it."
he pouts. "all i'm trynna do is pleasure you,"
you roll your eyes. "then do it without running your mouth." you scowl, wrapping your legs around him and pulling yourself closer to him, feeling his toned abs against your naked skin.
he returns the embrace, huge palms on your back as he sends quick thrusts to your hole. "fuck... i love you so much."
and that's all it took for you to make a huge mess all over his dick that HE'S gonna clean up (because he chose to dick you down).
⎠breastfeeding gojo ?
"can i try it?" he asked, perched right on the edge of the bed.
"try what?"
his eyes trailed down to your chest, lingering on the heavy shape of them under your shirt, then flicked back to your face. "sucking your tits."
"baby, i'm not sure. i'm still leaking and they're crazy sensitive."
"i'll be careful, i promise... just wanna taste it."
before you could even get a word out, he was already moving in, settling right between your legs. his head was level with your chest, tucked between your thighs, taking up all the space. "come on, babe, show me my pretty girls."
you rolled your eyes but pulled up your white top anyway, making him let out a low, gravelly groan. there they were â heavy and swollen, way bigger since the pregnancy, with hard, dark nipples and a little wet spot where the milk was already soaking through.
"damn, baby..." he rasped. "wanted this for so long."
at first, he just swiped his tongue over the wet patch, licking up the drops with slow, teasing circles around the nipple. then his lips suddenly clamped down. he took the whole thing into his mouth, sucking you in almost to the areola.
"tooru!" you yelped, arching your back. "easy!"
but he didn't hear you. he was sucking so hard, pulling the milk out like he'd freaking die if he didn't get every last drop right that second. you felt the rhythmic, heavy tugging and heard him gulping it down, totally obsessed.
he groaned right against your skin, his whole body shaking, and then popped his lips off your nipple with a loud, wet smack.
"so fucking sweet," he breathed out. his lips were all shiny, and his breath scorched your nipple, making it pop even harder. he kept switching between quick licks and sharp, tight tugs, creating this crazy, pulling pressure deep inside.
right then, he noticed milk starting to drip from your other breast, messing up your skin.
"it's goin' to waste," he groaned and moved to the second one even hungrier. he was acting like a total addict â his tongue was darting all over the areola, catching every single drop, and then he clamped down on the nipple, sucking so hard the room filled with wet, messy sounds. he literally buried his face in you, getting white streaks all over his cheeks.
he squeezed both your breasts with his hands, jamming them together so the nipples were side by side. he covered both at once with his mouth, biting and sucking them at the same time.
"mmm-gh!" he felt his mouth fill up instantly with warm milk. he swallowed greedily, almost choking on the taste, and sometimes he'd pull back on purpose, tugging your nipples with his teeth, stretching them out before sucking back in.
you clawed at his white hair, gasping for air. "too... nngh... it's too much! ah-mmm! tooru!"
he pulled away for a sec, and in the dim light, you saw a thin, sticky string of spit and milk stretching between his lips and your bright red nipple.
"shhh, baby." he nipped the hard tip with his teeth right away, making you yelp.
his hips moved on their own. sitting between your legs, he started rubbing his hard cock against the mattress, back and forth, groaning low. he went back to your chest, tossing his head side to side without letting go of the nipple. "mmm-ffh... want more milk... give me more baby," he mumbled. his chin was literally soaked, drops dripping down his neck and ruining his clothes. then he looked up at you with those huge, clouded-over doe eyes.
"wanna use some for my coffee."
more of jjk ?
fratboy satoru gojo is a sore loser for your pussy. 18+
âplease, baby, just let meâ satoru lamentably pleaded, desperation clung on to his tenor. his feverish cheeks, tinged a delicate crimson on the snowy skin, rested itself on the plumpness of your bare thighs, scorching his golden mark on it. his reprehensible whimpers of agony and intense need was narrowing all the routes of your five senses. âpleaseâ iâll be good, just one taste.â
if his fraternity brothers found out, that their fratâs vice president was ignominiously reduced on to his knees, all because he wanted to have a taste of his girlâs raw cuntâ then there wouldâve been a hellish discourse upon the matter.
satoru gojo, who would commence parties of bright lights and foreign liquors. satoru gojo who would gulp down burns through his throat too easily, claiming âlight work, no reactionâ even after seven shots of tequila. satoru gojo who called girls by their wrong names after waking up naked next to their shy faces, breaking their golden hopeful hearts so cruellyâ now, was on his knees, in front of the campusâ shy girl, who was just as cruel as he was.
your legs were impeccably open, wide and candid, panties down to the ankle which satoru had been merely allowed to discard. the sight of your tempting pussy had satoru letting out a pathetic moan already as he kneaded himself through his grey sweats. he was so needy. so damn pathetic.
just to trace your glistening folds with the tip of his brute tongue. just to spittle and rub your clit bud by skillfully flattening of his tongue. simply just to eat you out, incessantly and ardently.
just for a lick, a taste of your juices.
âbaby, please, please. let me. just a taste. i promise, iâll be good. iâll be so good to youâ his begging fell to deaf ears. you had slipped on your panties, back into position, shielding your sweet glory away from him.
âthen, now, do you believe me that i wasnât with sukuna last night?â you batted your lustrous eyelashes, a sweet smile conquering your face. it was a lie, you were with sukuna last night.
satoru had been questioning you on it relentlessly, suspicious, but nowâ âyes, yes, yeah baby. i, shit, sorry. iâm such a dumbfuck for not trustinâ ya. of course i believe ya, dollâ.
honestly, he had it all planned. like always.
you were supposed to be just another girl who he shared white sheets with. just another girl who would moan his name while he mumbled a made up one for you. just another girl for him to smile at, fuck once and play with but instead, he was the one getting played. by you. the shy, quiet girl.
the shy girl whose weeping friends had slept with satoru, and deliriously wanted him to suffer for breaking their lovelorn hearts. the shy girl who had taken a grievous vow to break, the egocentric frat king, satoruâs heart.
the campusâ shy girl was truly cruel. worse than satoru. because she was the only one to beat him at his own game.
saw this ss on insta and immediately thought of (frat) gojo lol

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even with all the light and love you harbored for your boyfriend of three months, you were seriously starting to get real fuckinâ sick of gojoâs constant mood swings.
one minute heâs curled up on top of you, outdated argyle sweater and beige slacks tossed somewhere on the floor. clunky glasses slip crooked against your boobs as he grinds into your plush thighs, half-whining, half-bargaining, half-beggingâasking you to quote, âspit in his mouthâ and âride him so hard he cries post-postcoital syncopeâ (passing out), as a reward for completing your biochemistry homework.
âwanna explore your insides like apollo thirteen, princess. . .â he breathes, voice breaking into a soft whimper as his hips stutters, fingers pushing deeper into your tight opening, like heâs trying to map and probe every inch of you. âdonât need a cosmology textbook to know this cute cuntâs out of this world.â
âcan you be normal? for once?â
âwith you splayed open like this for a dork like me? how can i be?â with his free hand, he manhandles you into an almost sitting position, fingers still pistoning into you. he slides allll the way down until heâs faced with your fluttering entrance. âthis pussyâ and my poncho-wearing pikachu: xy promo cardâ are the two things i love most in the world.â
âshut up, pleaââ you gasp, cut off as his tongue drags a slow stripe up your slit. his mouth seals around your clit, sucking with infuriating precision, relentless in a way that makes your thighs tremble, like he has all the time in the world and every intention of undoing you completely.
âm-might squirt, g-get off.â you attempt to pry him off, and like a puppy who wants itâs mommyâs milk, he shakes his head vigorously.
âin my mouth. now.â
the next moment, heâs got a stupid snapback and wife beater on, folding you into a meeeeean arch as he drags his fat tip slow across your ass, smearing his nut all over your reddened cheeksâcourtesy of his miniature greek paddleâ with a wicked smirk. somewhere behind you, thereâs a faint click, followed by the soft whir of a polaroid developing.
âhold that pose, petal. yes, like thatâ fuuuuck. love the way my load just leaks out of that slutty little hole. i bet your classmates canât even imagine how much of a whore their teacherâs pet is for some good fuckinâ dick. shit, i need a picture for my snapâs âmy eyes onlyâ too.â
(and to send it to two very specific individuals.)
a lightbulb goes off in his empty head.
he reaches over to his bedside table, grabbing a black marker and gnawing the cap off. the sound alone makes your stomach flip.
you shift, glancing back at him. âw-whatâre you doing?â
ânothing, gorgeous,â he bites his lip, one hand steadying your hip, thumb brushing slow, absent circles into your skin. thereâs a grin in his voice, easy and teasing. âjust sit still fâme, yeah? let daddy do his thing.â
he chuckles deviously as he admires his work. gojo propertyâ right on your left ass cheek.
and even worse, he has days where heâs almost too normal; casually taking you out to fancy dinners in the classiest of button-ups and watches, playing your favorite songs on the piano like heâs done it a hundred times before, replacing your laptop without a second thought when yours broke, making love to you in missionary with your face cradled in his hands, coaxing you to cum together. . .
despite the tremendous growth zuko has had over the years in regulating his emotions and reeling back his more sadistic ways of achieving his goals, itâs no surprise that there are still moments where his past behavior peeks through in places that arenât quite. . . standard for him.
âhm? I didnât quite catch that, baby,â he murmurs, eyes fixed on your flushed face as he pulls you closer, grip steady, the tension between you palpable and unmistakable. he forcefully bounces you on his fat cock as steam curls around you, water harshly sloshing with every sharp thrust your husband plants to your abused hole. itâs nothing unusual for zuko to pull you into the royal baths like this, craving a quiet escape from his relentless advisors and the chaos of certain friends who have always surrounded him.
but this time. this time was different.
âiâmph! iâm sorry! iâmsorryiâmsorryiâmsorryâ!â
âsorry for what? be more clear.â
âfor ah! running straight into danger when you told me not to.â
âexactly. with absolutely no regard for your safety.â he clicks his tongue, a large hand coming down to swat at your asscheeks. âi know youâre a big, strong girl, but dealing with bandits alone isnât something i want my wife to be doing in her spare time, especially when iâm off on avatar business,â he growls, tone edged with something firm but familiar.
frustration, worry. a deep desire to keep you safe in his domain.
you nod frantically, eyes glossed over with a mix of pleasure and guilt. you know how much zuko worries about you, a non-bender from foreign lands still unfamiliar with the true weight and danger of the fire nation territory.
you arenât used to this, to life as royalty. to be waited on by maids and fed by famous chefs. you were a kyoshi warrior, above all. the only thing you knew here was him. his patience, steady presence, and strength. the way he looks at you like you hung up the moon and stars.
the fiery, dilated eyes that you cannot currently see.
âwanna look at you, zuko. havenât seen your face in days.â you whimper, tears staining the crimson ribbon, the one tight around your eyesâ the one he uses to keep his hair up.
âbad girls donât get to have their way, princess. make me cum, and maybe iâll grant you your wish.â
he slides his hands up your torso, teasing and featherlike. you could only shudder as you kept moving against him, your hands clinging to his shoulders and arms, stronger and broader than you remember, shaped by the years that have passed around him.
he thumbs at your nipples. a flicker of curiosity crossing his face as his thoughts begin to wander. he feels the subtle change in you, the way you tense and draw closer, and his expression shifts into something more devious (and a tad vengeful) as he watches you carefully.
zap!
if you've seen him, whether physically or in your dreams, contact the police immediately.
a dream that bloomed in the night's embraceâ [sfw]
âhaikyu!!
kenma kodzuken gives you too much attention kodzuken asks you out
kagehina tobio wants to touch shoyoâs hair
âin this long, long dream, he roams again. [nsfw]
âjjk
choso crybaby boyfriend misses eating
satoru big and strong husband is tied up
Š lyric excerpts - JXW 'THIS MAN' Single.
i barely see kenma smau on here ty for doing godâs work queen >_< pls keep posting more !! <3
yes !!! more kodzuken to come đ¤
mdni. satoru knows exactly how to calm you down. husband!gojo x fem!reader (.6k words)
upon arriving home, you close the door quick and heavy, the sound of hardwood hitting the concrete almost deafening.
"my, my, why's a sweetheart like you trying to break our house?" you hear satoru from the living room, and the sugary scent of pastry enters your senses.
in quick strides, he witnesses you throwing your things down the foyer, hastily kicking off your shoes. "can you please stop snacking for a moment?" you're not usually this irritable with him or with anyone, but the argument you've had with your stupid, overconfident colleague is keeping you livid.
"'course, anything for my beautiful wifâ" satoru is about to raise his hands, feigning surrender, when you half-run to him and pull him by the collar for a violent kiss.
it takes him a few seconds to reciprocate your biting and sucking, and you catch his muffled groan. he lightly grabs your jaw, his other hand on your waist, "what's wroâmfff" but you don't give him any space to breathe.
"not a fucking question tonight, satoru. understood?" you breathlessly demand after some minutes, and tug his hair to bare his neck towards you. "y-yesâhangghâma'am," he moans in submission as you give his exposed skin a long, wet lap.
â
"shiiiit, baby, you wan' meâhahhâdead?" the fabric that satoru uses to cover his eyes currently ties his wrists together. you know it's not in a tight knot, nor is it something to keep this cursed energy of a man from moving.
but there's something about having the strongest all pliant beneath you on the bed, his vibrant pupils blown out, crystal strands of hair sticking to his forehead in a thin blanket of sweat.
"i said," you keen, riding down his cock in an even slower rhythm, "noâmmhâquestions."
his tip is barely touching your favorite spot, and satoru knows that. he's also dying to slam into your cervix, his muscles incredibly tensed, but all that he can do right now is try his best to stay still.
"what do you think about me taking a picture of you like this, s'toru?" aside from how you're fucking yourself with his length in a deadly sluggish pace, gojo's cock is twitching at this new tone of your voice, low, drawn out, commanding.
so in a second, "anything for m'pretty girl," he answers. your insides are sealed tight around him, and that's all that matters.
"then i'll send it to all the clansâŚ," each word punctuated by a dangerous thrustâ"hey, this is the sorcerer you're so scared of, doesn't he look sooo obedient?" you're palming your breast for a bit more sensation, the shallowness of his dick in your hole is also torturous for you.
satoru's cock pulses inside you, his eyes glassy, breaths fast, "oh, aren't you into that, my good, good boy?" he whimpers.
he moves underneath you, as if testing the waters if he can fuck you properly now, "yes, please! letâme," he gasps, "âdo you good."
"go ahead, then," as much as you want to keep seeing him docile below you, you know (and you know that he knows) that your sanity is close to snapping if you don't find satoru as deep as possible in your pussy soon.
so that's what he does, he swiftly frees his wrist, squeezes your hip, and finally bottoms out. you both let out a sharp exhale, you at the perfect stretch, and satoru at the perfect feeling of your pulsating walls.
"time f'me to fuck my wife how she likes it," satoru announces with that annoying grin of his.
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do not feed into ai.

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working with streamer, pro-gamer, trader, world-famous kodzuken, high-school-crush-who-rejected-you, and he's...asking you out?
kenma x fem!reader â fluff: kenma does not understand you at all. series: here's part 1, this is part 2 notes: narration-heavy, only a few sm panels (1,7k words)
Kenma clicks his tongue as he stares at his phone, and exhales a frustrated breath, fiddling with the broadcast to show his taking-a-break screen.
| whyyyy after only one match | KODZUKEN WHAT HAPPENED | did you receive some bad news? | hope ure ok bro
The familiar scent of the suburban side of Tokyo greets you and brings a weird feeling to your chest.
It's not unusual for you to visit talents, specially those who mostly stay home. It's the first time in years that you have come to this part of Tokyo, however, and the memories, good and bad, are flooding in. You press the doorbell and hear its sound from inside the house.
These memories are now almost drowning you, as Kenma opens the door to his home, making you inhale sharply. You know that he has gotten a bit taller, that he almost has a full head of dark hair now, that he still has his distinct slouch, that he smells the same as he did in high school. You already know all of these from meeting him in the company building, but being back in the suburbs, this place, in his space, makes you almost run out of air.
You remember the first time you saw your high school's volleyball team, discovering that the boy who you would look at for a few seconds longer than normal, whenever you pass by him on the hallways, is part of it. You remember the way you tried to be present in a lot of their matches, the exhilaration of cheering on someone for a sport you did not have any interest in previously.
You also remember how you got him and his team's attention when you yelled his name from the bleachers, seeing him rotating to the back for a serve. And you recall losing sleep, trying to make up your mind whether you would give him a good luck charm or not and how you ended up doing it, albeit in an embarrassing-yourself-by-tripping-over-your-tongue kind of way. You remember how surprised he was, how silent his teammates got, his soft thank you, the amusement and appreciation in his expression.
You remember crossing paths with him in the arcade that you frequent on Saturdays, he was with his teammates and you were alone. You remember how his teammates slapped his back, or pinched his shoulders, or ruffled his hair, and then leaving him alone with you, excusing themselves to get burgers or soda, or riding the carousell, or going to school, or any silly reason to get you two to be by yourselves.
You thought that he would leave, but he tilted his head and said, "Video games?" To this, you looked down in panic, "Ibookedoneoftheescaperoomshereforthishoursorry," almost stumbling over your words again.
Kenma would put his hands on his knees and lean down just a bit so your faces are leveled, "Mind if I go with you?" he would follow your gaze and ask. Not exactly forceful, nor asking for the sake of being nice, it was something else on his faceâdetermination, that was what it was. Kenma looked determined to spend time with you.
Maybe it was his resolve, or maybe it was just the hint of floral from his hair, or his voice that had just the slightest roughness to shake you from the inside, or was it because you thought he looked specially good that dayâyou said "I don't mind," you liked him. And you liked him more after that.
You remember that on the following week, on a Friday afternoon practice, he would go to your side of the bleachers, "Will you be there again tomorrow?" and you would say yes in a stagger.
"I'll see you tomorrow, then," Kenma would reply.
You would begin to spend your Saturdays with him if he did not have practice. If he did, you would see him waiting for you on the hallway after the dismissal on a Friday, and Kenma would let you know, "I can't play with you tomorrow," with a blanket of disappointment on his face.
It was subtle, but you would also notice how the physical space between the two of you got smaller each week. In the escape room, he would stop apologizing about bumping into you out of excitement when you were close to solving the case, and you would feel that his gaze on you would linger.
One weekend, when there was nothing new to the escape rooms, he would suggest to play the video games instead. When you couldn't quite get the combos and was getting frustrated about not beating him, he would slide closer to your space, your shoulders touching, and he would hold your hand and guide your fingers on which keys to press. You remember squealing in your head about how he smelled good, how close his face was, how you could almost feel the beating of his heart.
You remember the gentleness of his leading touch, or the soft tugging of your wrist when he would lead the way out of the puzzle. You remember that in the coming weeks, during the times that you were with himâbefore or after practice, after a match, during lunch break, or on Saturdaysâhe would always be close to you, arm to arm, and everyone would notice.
You remember rushing down the bleachers, waiting by the doors just outside the court, "You did well," you would tell Kenma with a trembling voice, holding back your tears, as their team went out. You remember thinking that you should not cry, that it was not your last high school volleyball match, it was his. And since you could barely talk and your throat was closing up, you opened up your arms, and Kenma would waste no time crossing the space between the two of you for an embrace.
It should have been part of your routine in the years to comeâthe arcade Saturdays, the lingering glances, the gentle touches, or the shy hugsâbut you would see him with one of his teammates by the corner outside the cafeteria, "I don't like her in that way!" You would hear your name.
You did not have the context of the conversation, you were basically eavesdropping, and you would not fully understand how that statement came about, but you were a seventeen-year-old. What you heard was enough reason for you to ignore him in his usual spot outside your classroom on Friday afternoons, enough for you to quickly leave after the graduation ceremony even if you knew that he had been looking at you the whole time and waiting by your row by the end of the program.
You remember it all.
"Come in," Kenma's invitation brings you back to the present.
You are taking off your shoes by the entrance, and you see him leaning a bit close to the floor to offer a pair of house slippers.
"Can I see the fridge? Is it in your room?" You hurrily ask, following him inside. He leads you to the kitchen instead, "What would you like to drink? Water or soda?" Kenma offers, turning his head around to look at you.
"Where is it, please?" You ask again, desperate now.
He sighs and leads you to his room. Once you're inside, you feel him watching your every move. You quickly go and check the Red Bull mini fridge at one of the tables in the corner, confirming that it's cooling the drinks and that it's within the frame of his stream cam across the room, "I'll go now, then."
You pass by him on the doorway.
"Can you please at least look at me?" Kenma holds your wrist. You did not answer.
You try to walk away, but his grip tightens, stopping you, pulling you close to his chest.
You feel his heartbeat on your back, the pacing vibration, "Please," Kenma slowly leans into you, his forehead on your shoulder.
His hair is touching the side of your face, and his familiar floral scent envelopes your senses.
"I missed you."
You turn your face away from his head. Your throat is tight, the room becomes stuffy, your gaze is upwards, wanting to stay firm, wanting to not let your tears fall.
You inhale as deep as you can, "I need to go."
"I missed you." Kenma says again, and he pulls you impossibly closer to him.
"S-so much," He stresses weakly, but you stay silent.
"Eight years agoâ," he swallows, "âwhat happened to us?" He sounds frail, and soft, and wretched, like he'sâŚgrieving.
You can't take this. You're not prepared for this. You exert all your strength to take the first step to walk away from this situation, from him, "You'reâŚdoing it again," his voice breaks.
"KenmaâŚ," he hastily wraps his arms around your waist, pushing all the resolve out from your body, and brings his face to the crook of your neck, getting it wet. His quick breaths brush the skin there.
Ah, you can't take this.
"Eight years agoâŚ," you begin to speak, his embrace tightens. "âŚI heard you talking to someone about me," he's quiet.
"You said you did not like me, which I believed to be rejection," you sob. "You know that I was into you."
He stills. Seconds pass. Then a minute. You brace yourself for what's about to come.
He swiftly turns your body around to face him, "You thoughtâŚI wanted to break up with you?" He's nothing but baffled. His lips are shaking, the space between his brows is wrinkled. He's looking at you up and down in disbelief, or regret, or relief, orâhis shoulders shakeâhappiness?
Kenma is laughing, or crying, or both, "Ah, this is unbelievable," he cups your face with his hands, "Do you stillâŚlike me?" He waits for you to respond, and thinks a few years back.
"Kenma!" It was one of his volleyball team's pinch servers. He would pull Kenma to go to the cafeteria as usual.
"I see you've been with her a lot," he's talking about you.
"Yeah," he would fight a smile and think about what you two would be doing this Saturday.
"Have you kissed her?" Kenma coughs up his cocoa drink at this question, punching his chest, his ears and cheeks warm.
"Heh, have you done it with her, then?" Kenma knew this is typical teenage-boy-talk, but, "IâI don't like her in that way!" he believed intimacy of that kind should only be discussed with his partner. He would reply quickly in panic, and that was the only response he could come up with.
Kenma was also seventeen, a teenager who was also not the best communicator.
do not use to train ai.
mdni. choso is a crybaby who wants you to sit on his face. choso x fem!reader (.6k words)
"i wanted to see you fully today, baby boy," you lightly complain and pout at him, as you push him to sit on the couch after your close-to-half-hour kissing session by the door.
"come on now, iâhah," he swallows when he finally feels your weight on him, you're straddling him, which leads to choso gripping your waist so tightly it could break, "i haven't eaten you in ages."
you put the loose strands of hair behind his ear and buck your hips up onto his hardness very lightly. the space between his eyebrows scrunches up at your teasing, "by ages, you mean a few daysâow!" choso is impatient, so he bites the exposed skin on your chest.
"chosoâ," you think he'll stop, but he doesn't. he is lapping up the space that is neither too far nor too close to your nipple. he licks the bite mark that he left on your skin, looking up at you through his lashes, "please, let me eat you," he whimpers, with tears welling up in his eyes.
you exhale a shaky breath, a negligible trembling of your fingers on his nape. "baby, please," he appeals once more, using the tone that he knows will make you bend to his will, so you do.
choso is on the bedâwell, he is looking all nice and fucked up, with tears falling down anytime now, waiting for you to remove your bottoms.
"'so fucking beautiful," choso is also breathless, and it's taking everything in him to put his thoughts into words, but he succeeds nonetheless. you're on the bed and kneeling on either side of his face, holding onto the headboard now, fully naked waist down, with an unbuckled bra that's loosely sitting on your chest.
choso does not wait for you to sit on him as he rashly brings his face up to your pussy, making you lose your hold from the headboard. you both moan at the abrupt turn of things: you, at the way he gives a long stripe from your labia to your clit; and him, at the satisfaction of feeling your weight on his head, the scent of your wetness, the sweetness of your juice that he thinks he can substitue meals to for every day of his life.
when choso eats you, he does not touch your pussy, of course he doesn't. he's grabbing your ass to pull you as close as physically possible to his face, and he does not rub your clit nor fuck you with his fingers. but he cries, though. he moans, and whimpers, and manages to tell you sweet-nothingsâs' good, baby; pretty⌠pretty⌠pretty fucking pussy; please don' stop; keep fucking m' face, loveâalbeit in between breaths and with the occasional crack in his voice, and he keeps sobbing.
choso thinks, and most probably believes, that he can survive off of your pussyâand he will. but sometimes, like today, you try to coax him into taking a break and taking a sip of water, worried that he may dehydrate from all the tears he's letting out, "choâso! please, waterâahhh!" choso sucks on your clit so hardly it may bruise.
"needâmmmmhâdrink," you try again. but with the way he's doing your clit like it's his lifeline, giving your folds long licks in between, and bringing his tongue into your hole and drinking and sucking and slurping your juices, ahâhe will live off of this alone. what the fuck are food and water for? choso will always ask.
please feel free to send requests, need to practice my writing. :)
do not feed into ai.