❤︎ — Toji Fushiguro Likes It In Pink !?

♱ | sub! choso. dom! reader. begging. mild overstim. riding.

choso melts under your touch.

his head’s thrown back against the pillows, dark hair spilling everywhere in a messy halo. flushed cheeks, parted lips, and those glassy eyes looking up at you like you hung the stars. he whimpers every time your fingers graze over his hips, the anticipation alone making his cock twitch where it sits, flushed and leaking, against his stomach.

“you’re being so good for me,” you murmur, leaning down to kiss the curve of his neck, licking up a bead of sweat. “look at you. such a mess already.”

he keens at the praise, hips lifting off the bed like instinct. you press your palm against his stomach, grounding him.

“ah—fuck, i’m trying,” he breathes, voice shaky and hoarse. “please… i need you.”

your fingers wrap around the base of his cock, slow and deliberate, and he groans—loud and needy—like it’s too much and not enough all at once. his thighs tremble under your weight, muscles taut, barely hanging on.

“you’ll get it,” you promise, stroking him just enough to make his eyes flutter. “but not until you ask me nicely.”

his bottom lip wobbles, and you can tell he’s close to begging—desperate, undone, totally yours. “please,” he gasps. “please, i wanna cum—been good, haven’t i? i didn’t touch myself like you told me not to. i waited.”

your lips brush against his jaw. “yeah, baby,” you whisper. “you’ve been perfect.”

and when you finally sink down onto him, he sobs.

his hands fist the sheets like they’re the only thing keeping him grounded. you let out a soft moan at the stretch, and he nearly loses it right there—eyes rolling back, mouth falling open in a wrecked, breathless sound.

“oh my god,” he pants, looking up at you like he’s praying. “feels so—so good. can’t think.”

you grind your hips down, and his whole body jolts. “then don’t,” you whisper. “don’t think. just feel me.”

his hands eventually find your hips, gripping tight—not to guide you, but to ground himself, because he’s trembling beneath you, trying so hard not to cum too fast. his cock twitches inside you with every squeeze, every roll of your hips, and you can feel how badly he wants it.

“cum for me, choso,” you murmur against his lips. “show me how good i make you feel.”

and when he finally does—shuddering, whining, gasping your name like a prayer—you kiss the tears off his cheeks and tell him how pretty he looks when he falls apart just for you.

sub! choso save. save me sub! choso.

need to bounce on it till his head lulls back and he’s moaning like a girl

REEEEEAAALLLL

He looks so tired I need to fuck him

Could you possibly write something about cuddling with Reigen? Just something really fluffy and sweet 🥺

₊˚ʚ ☁️ ₊˚ ♡ ﾟ. Reigen Arataka x GN! Reader ⤸ SFW. No pronouns used. Cuddlin' :3

"Mmmmnnnn... Mmph?"

Pat. Pat. Pat. Patpatpatpatpat. Reigen's palm lands flatly on the pillow with each attempt.

That's the sound of a man, still so groggy he hasn't wiped the sleep from his eyes, searching for his partner (in bed): you. His blond brows furrow, elevens between them as he fights the daytime. What's the point of getting up if you're not - Oh.

The futon creaks - it hasn't aged as gracefully as he has - when you crawl back to his side.

"Mnn, you up?" You yawn, quickly scooped into Reigen's arms before you can finish exhaling. Your laughs are buried in his embrace and it doesn't sound like he's going to let you go anytime soon.

"Yeah... But let's stay in for a bit."

edging choso. thank you for listening 👍

꒰১ cw. fem reader, cowgirl, mdni.

“my g—god,” choso huffs out in short breathy pants, his breathing became shallow—almost as if it came with ease, a straining exhale snatches from his throat as he leans back. you’re riding him, sensually grinding your hips against him to where his droopy eyes roll way back into the depths of his cranium. “more, more, moreee,” he pleads with crimson red lips, two big hands stuck to your waist. he was so whiney, with the way you rode him until he clung onto his final breaths—how could he not moan out a whimper or two . . ?

it’s sloppy, the way your ass moves up and down against him— he’s so thick too, such length to him that the stretch just comes so easily. callused fingertips roughly dig into your skin and his head throws back the moment his tip thrashes against your most sweetest spots. you feel it and he feels it too. “choso, how’s it feel baby? feels good?”

“uh huh, uh huh,” he’d immediately nod, half lidded eyes and he looks so cute— his entire body felt hot, he can’t help but pull you into a steamy kiss. the feeling of your warm lips mashing against his was enough to make him get off, so warm. his thighs start to pang, the undersides of them tense and he knows in the back of his mind that he’s about to dump yet another load right into you. “uh,” he whines, departing away just to see the sheeny cobweb of spit leave from your lips. choso was horrible with eye contact— he’s panting heavily before he moans out that sweet familiar, “princess ‘m gonna cummm.”

but that’s right when you amp up your speed, the piston of your hips only grow quicker— he bites his tongue, feeling a twinge of arousal brew up before he’s hitting you deep. the crownhead of his cock only tickles against your clit before right when he’s about to sink into his release,

you . . . stop.

choso inhales . . then exhales, he’s confused..

a cute perplexed expression with a pout before his eyebrows curl up. “. . wha-” he croaks and his voice cracks as you just sit there. your attention suddenly aims at coating the inner part of his chin with a plethora of sweet kisses. mwah after mwah, he moans from your touch before finishing his sentence. “why’d you stop? why—why?”

“not yet, baby.” you coo, pressing a kiss near the pierced lobe of his ear.

he frowns at that, balls deep and he was so close, so so close…

he wanted to pump you full, choso’s mouth felt dry, the inside of it felt equivalent to the sahara. he’s always had a hard time being told no and he was adorable. “n-not yet?” he repeats, soft big arms wrapping around your waist. you lean into his bare chest before giggling. you were panting yourself, heave after heave leaving your lungs as you glance into his darkened irises. “but why?”

“because,” you kiss near his neck, then his chin, then finally . . his mouth. a lewd moan escapes from his throat at your touch, he loved your kisses more than anything. his dick twitches inside of you and your tender touch only drives him more crazy. warm breath wafts against his skin and he moans again, your touch was truly his worst enemy. out of all the enemies he’s been in battle with, a simple touch or kiss from you was simply choso kamo’s weakness. “because, i want you to wait a little. is that a problem?”

“oh . . !” he cutely mutters, a sheepish smile on his lips.

he gulps, finding your sudden dominance a bit hot — dark pools of aroused eyes gaze into yours before he scoots you closer against his lap. with a low soft tone, he rasps a, “g-guess not,” and he swallows the invisible lump in his throat, feeling your pussy soak him dry. “if my love wants me to wait, i’ll w-wait.”

“you’re such a good boy, ‘cho.”

“hey, don’t call me that though. please.”

you titter, peppering a kiss towards the corner of his lips.

his mouth quivers, always so weak for any amount of kisses that you give him. he’s so grateful, the warmth that you always provide him, whether it’s being inside of you or simply sharing a sweet kiss with you, you were really his kryptonite.

“i thought you liked when i praised you?”

“i— i do,” he protests, jaw tightening as you move a bit more with him still stuffed inside of you. his cock continues to pulsate and it feels so good. but being edged felt different, something surges within him as if he was most definitely on pause mode. “it’s just . . it’s embarrassing. ‘m supposed to call you good. ‘cause y’know, you’re my good girl.”

you giggle once more, wrapping your arms around him—trying to stall as much time as you could and it was working.

“but whenever you say it, it’s just cute.”

“hmph,” he pouts, a cute tint flushing towards his cheeks before he pulls you even closer. “baby,” he questions out, snapping back to lewd reality. his head throws back as he feels the same throb stir up inside of him. a thumb strums alongside your back before he pants. “can i cum now? i waited, i just wanna fill you up— please. let me cum, okay?”

another chaste kiss goes against his lips, he whines from the contact your mouth goes against his. so sweet, you’re so close to him that you can hear him swallow and he stares at you with glossy eyes, reddened lips just shuddering from your movement.

“pretty please,” you whisper. “say that ‘n you can cum.”

“. . . babyyy,” he groans, reaching to grab onto the headboard and it’s unintentionally sexy— the way his veins on his arms pulse and bulge, a whimper drags out his throat before he finally gives in. “fuck, okay okay. fuck just, pretty please. pretty please, can i finish inside you? please.”

with the way you’re straddling him— keeping his throbbing idle cock between your gummy walls, he was about to risk it all. “okay,” you comply with a soft voice, gently stroking your thumb against his neck. “you can cum, baby. don’t waste it.”

“i won’t. promise, promise.” he purrs out, both hands going towards your bare ass. he squeezes it tightly before once you give him permission, he’s floating on cloud fucking nine. “fuh—fuckk,” he breathes, melting into a puddle once you take the time to plant a kiss near the bridge of his nose where his darkened scar remained. it shot up, arose— and it was so much. his heart pounds, a rapid heart beats through his ear before finally, he finishes.

thick velvety ropes pour right into your womb— it shoots out in such a hot way that you’re spasming, you feel each spurt and you hug him tightly. “make me feel s-so good, princess,” he pants, entirely out of breath. he’s shaking underneath you, lip quivering from the way his cum slowly but surely fills you up to the brim. your pussy’s flooded, sweltering with nothing but the hefty amounts of his cum before he bites into your neck softly. “thank you, t-thank you.”

“what for, baby?” you mutter in a hushed tone, watching as he brings his head back up to look at you with sweet droopy eyes.

choso shivers, your words only making him ten times more hard as he pulses inside of you still.

“for . . for making me a messy boy,” and he swallows, eyes closing for a brief second. “fine. fine,” and your eyebrows furrow at what he means before he whimpers into your neck, gentle breath bristling against your skin. “i . . . a-admit it, ‘m your good boy,” he moans, a hand grabbing your ass for the umpteenth time before he sheepishly huffs. “can— can we do that again though? pretty please?”

Choso who gets so needy when you sit on his lap, it’s almost embarrassing. Almost. His head tips back against the couch, lips parted, eyes half-lidded and glassy. He lets out the faintest whimper—barely audible, more breath than sound—but it makes your stomach flip. His hips jerk up into you like instinct, desperate for more warmth, more pressure, more of you.

You thread your fingers in his hair and tug—not too hard, just enough to make him moan, loud and needy, eyes fluttering as his breath catches in his throat. He’s already trembling, already leaking through his boxers, already drooling a little from the corner of his mouth. Completely wrecked, and you fucking love it.

“Fuck—please, slow down,” he mutters, voice raw and strained, like he’s trying not to whine. “I’m not—I can’t... I’m gonna cum like this, I’m sorry, I—”

You pull back just enough to see his face, but he refuses to meet your eyes. His jaw clenches, lashes fluttering, lips parted like he’s still trying to speak, but his body is betraying him.

Your fingers trace the line of his jaw, making him meet your eyes. There's a softness to your touch, but your voice is still low and teasing. "Let go for me, Cho. You look so pretty all worked up like this," you murmur, lips brushing against his ear.

That’s all it takes. He breaks. His body jerks forward, a gasp escaping him, and then he’s rutting up into you, his face flushed and damp with sweat, but his hands don’t leave your body.

You kiss him and he melts—messy and eager, all tongue and teeth, hands gripping your waist like he’s scared you’ll vanish. Every time you roll your hips down a little harder, it knocks another needy sound from his throat. His cock strains against the damp fabric, twitching every time your clothed cunt drags right over the tip—just enough friction to make him gasp, not enough to let him have it.

When you pause to catch your breath, he whines—high and choked, like it slipped out before he could stop it. His hips stutter up into yours, searching for more, grinding like he doesn’t even mean to do it. “I’m sorry, I just—fuck, you feel so good.”

You whisper his name, all syrupy and sweet, and that’s it.

He cums with a shaky moan, biting down on your shoulder to muffle the sound—but it’s no use. He’s already twitching beneath you, ribbons of cum spilling into his boxers. He keeps grinding up into you, chasing the high like it’s the only thing that’s real anymore.

And fuck, he looks so pretty like this. Messy. Trembling. Desperate. Completely wrecked and still begging for more.

Your good boy. Always so full for you.

Thinking about making out with a guy until he gets so horny and desperate that he starts rutting against me and whimpering "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I can't help it~ You're just so fucking pretty~" and eventually just pinning me down and fucking me right there <3

It's Like a Reward

You hear clattering and thumping from outside your room. Rolling your eyes, you continue to lounge in bed and scroll on your phone. This whole thing had been such a pain — what was he thinking getting a girlfriend to make you jealous?

Did he seriously think it’d make you cave?

God, he must have lost his mind. Thank goodness he found it. Only because you didn’t like someone else in your space, of course. Totally not because his stupid plan was actually working. You remember the shock you felt walking into your living room to see some girl on top of your roommate in the living room. The ridiculous smile on his face that washed away his usual completely bored look alerted you to the games he was playing immediately. 

Introducing her to you, you could only smile, nod, and get comfortable in the living room. After blah blah blah small talk, a quietness settled over the room and you chose to focus your attention on your book rather than the movie they were playing after they both insisted you stay. You could have chosen to read your book in your room, but some sick part of you — a really, really sick part you don’t want to confront right now— wanted to see where it would go. How far he would go. 

And God did he go far. His long fingers were digging into the thigh she had hooked over his lap. Spare hand pulling her hair back as their lips met in a messy clash, smacking sounds hitting you like sharp notes. She was practically humping his leg and moaning like crazy with little to no regard for you. Touching him all over, they were pressed so tightly one would have thought they were actively trying to fuse their bodies together permanently.

All while he had his eyes on you.

You knew what he was doing so you ignored him. Though you could see them writhing in your peripheral, you never wanted to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was getting to you. Of course you knew one day this would happen, that he'd grow braver and bolder, find new buttons to push, but you never thought it'd be so soon. Still, something about the whole thing didn't piss you off as much as it should have.

She was in his lap but you had him in the palm of your hands.

You were sure that if you had told him to, he would have ripped her clothes off and plunged inside her. He would have bent her into shape, moulded her into a pliable little plaything, rendering her stupid and useless, making a mess on the couch, on the coffee table, by the door, wherever you goddamn wanted him to. He would have done as you asked with a snap of your fingers because he's Choso and you're you.

A frantic knock jolts you from your thoughts. 

He’s finally here. 

You’d forgotten you have a lock on your door now. Wonder how long that’ll last. 

“I missed you” is the first thing he says when you let him in. And you believe him. How could you not when his hair is disheveled and there are dark circles under his eyes? His hands, riddled with silver rings, reach for your hips and pull you to him, groaning at your warmth, and when he takes a long inhale of your neck, his face falls in the crook of it. 

What a pain in the ass.

"Please get rid of the lock," he shamelessly requests. "I don't like not being able to come in here when I want. What if you get hurt? What if I need you?"

Scoffing, you snark, "You mean my panties."

One of his hands wanders behind you, under your shirt, and grips an ass cheek tight, fingers tracing the line of your panties until they’re at the gusset. You smack him away. Always pushing it. 

"No — well, yes, I want your panties too. But you come first, y'know. I'd much prefer getting what I need right from the source so I need you alive and well, roomie."

Sitting down on the bed, you give him a firm look. “Don’t touch me up, weirdo. I’m not even supposed to be rewarding you after the stunt you pulled.”

He gives you a sheepish smile, hand running through his messy but silky hair. 

“Sorry. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll buy you dinner for a month. Or whenever you want. In fact, I’ll do whatever you want forever.”

That’s not a fair exchange, considering he already does that, but you keep your mouth shut. You want to get this over with. “Alright. Get on your knees and take it already.”

Eyes darkening, he loses that smile. There’s something animalistic taking over his demeanour now. It should frighten you, the way he flexes his hands, veins popping, and how his black eyes are focused solely on the apex of your thighs, but truthfully, you’re not. You’ve seen this side of him so often it only makes you sigh. 

Kneeling on the floor in front of you, he clutches your knees, thumbs caressing your skin, drawing a barely audible gasp from you, but somehow, he hears it. Only half-dressed, Choso pushes your thighs open and slowly, like he might scare you off; he lays a kiss on the inner side, all while keeping eye contact. He loves doing that. Doing something depraved and immoral with no shame or remorse. 

Like last month, when you barged into his room and shoved him off his bed to search through his pillows for your missing panties, all he did was shrug and say, “Take the pink one; your smell's practically gone. But leave the blue for me. Please.”

You left him the pink and take the blue just to spite him, but he just shrugged again and laid back down, clutching the panties in his fist and inhaling deep, eyes rolling back and spare hand rubbing his hard-on through his joggers. Then, he gave you a sweet smile and asked what’s for dinner.

You hate him.

“You’re wearing the yellow with white polka dots today. Did you have a nightmare again?” He mutters against your skin as he kisses the other thigh, obviously concerned the other one will get upset if he shows favouritism. 

Leaning back on your palms, you hook one leg over his shoulder. “Yeah. Just a stupid zombie apocalypse one. God, we really gotta stop watching The Walking Dead.”

He hums an agreement before he dives face-first into your clothed pussy. 

“Ah, fuck! Choso, don’t do that.”

Of course, he doesn’t listen. Instead, he’s sniffing at your panties like a mouse. It’s so pathetic, but you don’t push him away. The sensation is kinda nice. You blame the fact that you haven’t gotten laid in far too long, and well, anytime you try to bring over someone, Choso chases them away with his weird vibes. Or if he senses you’re going out to get fucked, he’ll basically handcuff himself to you. 

“Aw, you just showered. That’s no fun,” he grumbles, lips skimming your slit through the material. You moan and he tightens his grip on your thigh, hiking up the other leg over his shoulder. Squashed between your thighs, he makes no complaints about the bruising on his knees as he kneels on the floor. You’re not even sure he feels the ache. “I like it better when you haven’t yet. Did I ever tell you I sometimes break the shower so that you can’t wash for a day or two?”

Breathless, you respond, “N-no, but you didn’t need to. I already knew.”

"I'd like to go longer. Would you ever go longer?"

"No, dumbass. Do that, and I'll kill you."

Frowning against your pussy, he grouches, "But just once? I'll be good."

You bundle a handful of his hair into a fist and force him to look at you. With a sickly sweet smile, you warn him, "Choso, sweetheart. If you do that, I'll knock on one of our neighbours. What about that hot, blond salaryman downstairs? Hmm? Would you like me to be all wet, naked, and vulnerable in his apartment? 'cause you know I'll do it."

Eyes rolling back and lips parted, he practically fights the urge to vomit at the thought just as he lets the pleasure of the pain you're inducing at his scalp overwhelm him. Shaking off the disgust and your grip, he dives back in to nuzzle your panties with his cheek, a much-needed comfort you suppose. 

Certain, he mutters with petulant pauses, "I won't do it...He's not even that hot...I was just asking."

Standing abruptly with your legs still clutched in his hands, you fall back onto the bed, watching him tower over you, face between your ankles. 

"I felt like I was going crazy without you," he confesses. "I haven't been able to touch you, to feel you, barely even talked to you. It's horrible."

You roll your eyes. "And, do tell, Chosito, whose damn fault was that?"

Once and twice, he ruts his boner into your bare legs, the hot and hard length tickling you. Through his joggers, you can feel that impressive length at max hardness, and if you close your eyes and really pay attention, you can even feel a growing spot of wetness on the material. "Mine. But I just wanted to get you riled up a little."

"Sorry to be such a disappointment."

He looks stupid with his hair flopping about and his hands clutching your legs to his torso like they'll leave, but the feeling of his bare chest, sculpted and muscular, burning your own skin, leaves you somewhat breathless. Brows furrowed, we asserts, "No, you're perfect. Always -ha- so perfect."

Rightfully, you're surprised he's even wearing any clothes. Too often have you had to tell him off for wondering around just in his boxers. He lounges with his hair all mussed, semi-hard cock outlined in the thin material as he scratches his abs. He cooks in just his boxers too. What he doesn't do is wear boxers at all when he comes out the bathroom after a steamy shower.

You don't really fight him too hard on his dressing habits.

"Was she a good kisser, Choso?"

He grunts, eyes fluttering open as he continues rutting on your legs. "W-who?"

"Your ex."

Groaning right before he sucks the skin on your ankle like he just can't help himself, he replies, "No. I hated every second. I imagined it was you. But it was -ngh- h-hard 'cause her body's all wrong. Your tits are bigger and you smell better."

Frustrated, he practically growls and roughly djusts you on the bed to make space for his large body. He lays down with you, head at your pussy once more.

Now, he's rutting into the bed as he skims his lips on your panties, the sensation tickling you. You're fighting the urge to writhe on the bed and show him how good he's making you feel by barely doing anything; he'd never shut up if he realises this is as much for him as it is for you.

“You know your panties will be useless to me if they’re fresh, right? Maybe you should be nice and give me something else.”

“I shouldn’t e-even be rewarding you for breaking up with -ngh Choso slow down- your girlfriend. You used her, and that’s a fucked up thing to do, Choso.”

Face pressed to your panties again, he rubs the tip of his nose up and down your clothed slit, pressing harder where your clit is. Your hands fly to his hair. God, it’s so unfair how good he is at making the most of what little he’s being given. 

A thumb pushes in on your panties, circling your hole over the material. Then, with an irritatingly arrogant tone, he muses, “You say that, but you’re wet. Bet you were wet, too, when you watched us make out. Be honest, that was the real reason you hid in your room, wasn’t it? I got into the bathroom after you showered and your panties were soaked. Had a lot of fun with that one for hours. You wanted me to find it, didn't you?”

No way is he taking control of the situation. Cocky bastard. Like always, give him an inch, he goes all the way across the solar system. Shoving him off, you ignore his petulant, “Hey! No fair.”

In a flash, he’s being pushed out of your door, panty-less and looking like he’s in near tears. 

“Wait, I’m sorry. I’ll shut up. I promise.”

Cruelly, you smile. “Too fucking late, Kamo. Go jerk off the natural way, like God intended. Oh, and here’s your present for being a good boy and not fucking some other bitch.”

You smear the collected wetness from between your legs onto his lips, smirking at the desperate tongue that tries to capture as much of it as possible before you withdraw. 

“Bring another whore around here, and that’s the last of me you’ll ever get, mark my words. Say you understand.”

Eyes cloudy from delirium and licking his lips, he promises, “No one else. Only you.”

“Good.”

The door gets shut in front of his face. And locked for good measure. 

Later in the night, you walk out to get a glass of water from the kitchen and could only hear shameless moaning and whimpering coming from his room. You curse the tingling of your nipples and force your way back into your room. But even later, you get up and pad over inside. 

Under the glow of his bedside lamp, he lays there, sweaty, chest and hands soaked with drying cum, and asleep. You see his unlocked phone and sigh at the picture of you on there. It’s not even a suggestive one. You’re just hugging him from behind with a grin. 

Like you’ve done many times before, because he has the self-control of a ball of lint, you clean him up and tuck him in. He’ll catch a cold otherwise. Just as you turn to leave, however, his hand flies up and captures your wrist, fingers ringless. 

Half-conscious, he mumbles, “I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have used her. Just want your attention. Want you to want me.”

“Oh, Choso.”

Placing his arm back onto his chest, you push his hair off of his forehead and lay a barely there kiss on his clammy skin. You say, “Nice try, weirdo. You’re still not getting my panties.”

“Aw, you’re so mean,” he huffs out, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips. 

Then, you leave, feeling much lighter than when you dreamt of hands that weren't yours holding him captive and pulling him away. 

Sometimes I just wanna read some cute and heartwarming fluff but all I’m met with is the dirtiest, freakiest SMUT