Me Reading Chainsaw Man: Damn, Fujimoto Is So Good At Writing Compelling Female Characters, How Does

what I think will happen if I message my mutuals

ugh i’m such a whore for soft smut w nanami!!!!! literally in luv w him he’s so husband

Nanami is aware of the effect he has on women. It’s not that he minds the attention, it’s just that he feels it is hard to live up to certain expectations. He’s overheard friends (Gojo) talking about getting choked, getting their hair pulled. He sees the eyes he gets when he’s in a suit. He’s very secure in his masculinity, but he feels he is not the tough, commanding man he seems to come off as.

When you told him you wanted someone to take charge in the bedroom, he panicked. What did that mean, exactly? You didn’t give any details. What if you wanted him to hit you? He had no judgment of it, but he didn’t think he could talk himself into touching you in any way that wasn’t gentle. When he looks at you his voice always comes out a few notes higher than he meant it to.

Luckily, he asked for clarification, and you assured him you didn’t want him to do anything that didn’t sound enjoyable. You told him what you wanted. He thought about it for nights on end.

Outside it is raining.

One of the reasons it is so easy to be with you is that your ideal weekday date is a night at his place, watching a movie and eating a meal that he says only took “a few minutes” to put together. And even though you intimidate him— how could you not, you’re gorgeous and brilliant— it’s easy to ask you to sleep over, too.

He knows that you love to validate his concerns about whether he is taking charge enough or not, but he doesn’t want you to have to. He’s determined to practice.

“Any day, now, sweetheart,” he says, thickly sarcastic. Then his face freezes and he glances over at you. “How was that?”

You laugh and finally stop putting up your hair. “Very good, Kento. Very commanding.”

He’s sitting on the edge of his neatly made bed and watching you, one leg bouncing tellingly. You stand in front of him, and feel the heat of his body against your thin clothes.

You’re trying to make eye contact but he won’t look up from your lap. You tilt his head up, and finally, he meets your gaze.

His soft brown eyes are glazed, lightly, and the longer he looks at you, the wider his pupils become.

You can feel his breath on your bare neck.

“Can I… “ he whispers as he leans in.

Something about his nervousness inspires a comfortable anxiety in you, and all you can do is nod. And you know you should close your eyes, but you want to watch, you want to see the outline of his hand coming to rest on your cheek, you want to see the way his eyes flutter shut as he gets closer, you want to see the way his lips move right before they are on you.

And then it doesn’t matter whose idea it was, because you’re kissing, finally. His tongue presses gently against yours, finally. You catch the softest moan from the back of his throat, finally.

And then everything is easy.

You throw one leg over him and sit in his lap, wrapping your arms over his broad shoulders and leaning in. You feel the bulge of his cock as you drag yourself instinctively against it, and he places an arm firmly around your waist to keep you where you are. You kiss him hungrily— a description you hate, but what else can describe the way you are trying to breathe him in, to consume him?

You feel his lips fumble against yours, and pull away softly. “What?”

“I said I want you to get on your back,” he says breathlessly.

It drives you all the more wild to know that he probably sat for a minute or two, wanting you, thinking about what to say before he said it.

In one move, and without taking his lips off yours, he stands and twists you so that you are pressed against the bed.

For a moment he pulls away and looks down at you, blonde hair mussed and falling down his forehead. Then he leans back down and whispers in your ear, “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”

Then he is kissing his way down messily, running his tongue against your neck, your collarbone, stopping to pull off your shirt, then kissing delirious circles around your breasts. You feel his smile against your skin as your nipples react, hardening, desperate for him to reach them. But he takes his time, slides his tongue perilously close before retreating.

“Fuck, Kento,” you moan.

And with that— the sound of his name— he finally presses his lips over your left nipple. Your breath hitches as he runs his tongue lightly, back and forth. You try to reach for his belt buckle but he catches your wrist and pins it to the bed. His teeth graze your nipple and you feel his wide chest, still clothed, pressing against your stomach, your hips. Finally, he lets you fall from his mouth, and as he moves to your right, he reaches down to your thigh.

He doesn’t even touch you where you want him to, just traces lazy circles up the inside of your leg. Your hips twitch involuntarily, and he uses the hand that was holding your wrist to cup around your waist, keeping you still. The restraint makes you whimper, and his tongue seems to twist around your nipple in response.

He breaks away and begins to kiss a line down your stomach. Again, your hips move, but this time he lets them, hinging his arms around either one of your legs and looking up at you. He is kneeling in front of you now, and all you can say is, “I want you to make me come.”

And performance anxiety be damned, that’s all he needs to hear.

He pulls down your underwear with one hand and moves lower, kissing each thigh, kissing where each leg connects to your body, his breath hot and heavy against your pulsing clit, already thinly veiled in your own desire. You can feel him staring, and it doesn’t make you shy, so adoring is the way he touches you.

Then you feel his tongue on you, and your eyes close.

He is good without trying to be good, just desperate to make you feel the way that he feels. Your hand flies to the back of his head and grabs a soft fistful of his hair as he sucks lightly at your clit, flicking his tongue over the corner he knows you like best. One of his arms rests on your stomach, fingers pressed down against your hip bone, and the other holds your legs open, his heavy silver watch cool on your thigh. He draws you in closer, his lips bumping against yours, and when you open your eyes you see that his are closed, and his expression dreamy.

His tongue drops to the opening of your pussy and you buck forward against him, very suddenly on the edge. He traces his tongue back up to your clit with a pace so slow it’s cruel. As soon as he reaches the little bulb, he arches over it, around it, and back down, slowly, slowly. Your legs press against his hand but he holds you in one place, seemingly indifferent to how hard you are accidentally pulling on his hair. You feel the hand on your leg sliding upward, and his watch rests on the inside of your thigh as he dips one finger inside of you and curls it. His tongue laps along the base of his finger as he begins to pump his hand, again so slowly that you whine a little and drag your hips quickly against him. The arm resting on your stomach presses down, just firmly enough to keep you from going too fast.

Your knees press hard into his pectorals, which he knows means you’re close to coming. He slows his pace even more for just a second and looks up at you. “Does this feel good, princess?” he says.

“So… good,” you manage to say, before you make the mistake of making eye contact with him right as he pushes another finger inside you.

Then he is moving quickly, his knuckles bumping against your wet clit. As he fucks you with his fingers, he twists one over the other and taps against that spot below your belly button. He could find it in his sleep.

He doesn’t even have time to return to eating you out before you are coming on his fingers. But on the bright side, this way he gets to see you do it. Your hips lift up and your back arches, and the hand that has been locked onto his hair has fallen back against the bed. His fingers keep moving, slowing only slightly.

He remembers what you asked him to say to you. He had thought it would be too embarrassing, but when you’re writhing against his body like this, it’s easy. “Good girl,” he murmurs, sliding his thumb over your clit and letting it rest there.

And it feels like another spiral of pleasure sent seconds after the first, the orgasm chasing the breath from your throat. “Fuck, Kento—“

He pulls back gently, as he always does at the slightest indication of discomfort. “What is it—” he starts.

But you don’t give him the chance to finish. You are pulling him up by the collar of his shirt and shifting so that there is room for him beside you on the bed. Face to face, he kisses you as you fumble with the buttons of his shirt— why is this still on?

He moves to rise over you, and you push him back down. He’s done so well being in control, and now you want to take care of him. “Stay there,” you say, lifting yourself over him and pulling down the strained zipper of his pants.

You watch him stare as you guide the head of his cock against your clit. The warmth, the soft wetness covering his tip, the way he is watching you like you’re his favorite movie— your eyes close and a moan escapes your lips.

You feel his arms around your chest, his lips pressing into your collarbone. “Fuck me, princess, please…” He sucks lightly on your neck. “Please, just… fuck…”

You lean down and take a handful of his hair again. “Eyes on me.”

As he is looking up, you push the head of his dick inside yourself. You glide down his length, and he shutters underneath you.

You bounce on his lap, your knees pressed into the bed for leverage. For a moment, he is completely lost in the feeling of being in you, of you grinding yourself against him needily, of the soft moans rolling out of your mouth every time you come down all the way.

Then the hands that were limp on your waist clench, and suddenly he is guiding you, as if he knew exactly when your muscles would tire. There is no slowness now, no teasing, no wait. You are riding him hard, the tip of his cock nudging against your innermost skin, your fingers pressed into his chest. He pants against your chest, his hands folding indents into your skin as he tries to pull you closer.

“Now who’s desperate?” you breathe into his ear.

You see him squirm under you. “Keep… keep going just like that… please…”

His dick spasms in you. In response, you slow the wave of your hips to a crawl, dragging yourself up and down him as if you are in no rush to feel him release.

He groans, his head coming to rest against your shoulder. “Baby, you can’t… I can’t… last like that…”

You take his chin in your hand, tilt it up. His brown eyes are wet and heavy with desperation. “Not even for me?” you say.

But the way your clit bounces against his body, the feeling of him slowly filling you up, the way he is looking, still, like you’re the only thing he has ever wanted— you can’t last like this, either.

You press a clumsy kiss against his lips and feel his breath catch as you pick up the pace again, thrusting harder than before. He is pressing upward, hands now clawing at you blindly, the man completely undone by you bouncing on his dick. His brow furrows and you feel him pulsing hard inside you. “I’m gonna—”

“Me too,” you manage as the pressure rises in you. You bury your face into his neck, drawing yourself in as close as you can get.

“Fuck…” he whines, one arm wrapping around your waist, so tightly that you can only grind desperately against his cock as he comes in you. The surge of it hits you, his twitching tip rubbing against your G-spot right as you pull yourself into him, clenching hard. You spasm against him, momentarily helpless as you ride it out.

When you are able to open your eyes again, he is breathing heavily, looking at you, and smiling like you never see him smile. He sinks to the bed, bringing you down on top of him without pulling out. You collapse in a heap onto his chest as he kisses whatever skin he comes into contact with.

And he thinks how easy it is, how anything is, if it is for you.

stoned nd thinking abt toji rn mmmmmmfffffffff

MY BF GUYS LOOK ITS MY BOYFRIEND AGGGGH

All Bark no Shame

m!reader x Gojo Satoru

smut; you didn't think joking about barking for an anime woman would turn into your boyfriend making you bark for him... for real.

✮ sub!bottom!reader, puppy play, barking, spitting, humiliation, looots of praise, dry humping, oral (reader receiving), anal fingering ✮

~ 2.2k words ~ MDNI | JJK Masterlist | a/n: HAPPY BDAY 2ME, this is very self indulgent 😔✌️🐾

You're almost surprised by Satoru's patience, once again listening to your rambles about Chainsaw Man, his eyes dancing from your eyes to your lips occasionally. Your position is familiar, comfortably seated on your boyfriend's lap, talking almost nonstop about another detail you had noticed upon another rewatch of the anime - so engrossed you don't even notice Satoru's keen hands exploring the moldable skin of your waist.

"We should watch it together sometime," he agrees with your suggestion, charmingly grinning, "who knows, maybe I'll enjoy it even more than you."

You scoff, almost offended by the idea. "No way, I'm the biggest Chainsaw Man fan out here."

This sparks the sorcerer's competitive nature, his chin lifting with mock arrogance. "Is that a challenge, angel? I bet I can out-fan you in no time," he teases, fingers slipping higher, claiming more of your body. The suggestive nature of it is yet to be discovered by you.

"Satoru," your voice takes on a jokingly serious tone, your eyes locked on his, "I'm so down bad, I'd bark at the screen for Makima. There's no way you can outdo that."

He laughs, not fully surprised by the statement, but intrigued nonetheless. You're pulled closer, a small hum leaving Satoru's lips. "I don't know, baby, I can get pretty down bad myself when I want something..." There's a glint in his eyes, one that you recognize immidiately, goosebumps following the realization. He leans over to speak into your ear, his voice an irresistibly deep vibration, causing your body to react immidiately. "And what I want right now is to hear you bark like a good little dog for me."

What? You blink at him, unsure if what your boyfriend just said is really what he just said. Satoru's fingers trailing to your lower back feel like hot coals being pressed against you. "Bark for... you?"

He smirks, clearly loving your reaction. "Yes, for me, baby. You said you'd bark for Makima, so why not for me, hm?" He bites his lip, your eyes locked on the sight, unable to look away. With a deeply sultry voice, Satoru adds, "Come on, give it a try, pet. Be a good boy and bark for me."

Your lids feel heavy with arousal, although trying to hide just how much the sudden tone and topic of conversation makes you feel. You can't fully believe Satoru is for real asking you to bark. "Really?" your voice sounds small, embarrassingly hopeful.

The sorcerer enjoys this, chuckling at your reaction. His fingers press low on your back, both encouragingly and more taunting, provoking you to slip into more embarrassment. "Yes, really. I want to hear you bark like a good puppy, okay? Can you do that, sweetheart? For me?"

Your face feels like it might as well explode with how warm your skin is, a deep urge to oblige murmuring through your insides, battling the rational part of your brain, warning you'd never recover from this humiliation. But Satoru is being enticingly sweet like this wasn't something embarrassing at all, and his act of nonchalance is very convincing.

You avert your face with your lip trapped underneath your teeth, fighting a tingling compulsion to say 'no'.

"W-woof?"

A wide grin spreads on Satoru's lips, completely ignoring the way you're cringing at yourself. His hand pats your head while genuine coos fall from his lips, his eyes big and curious like a kid discovering a new toy to play with. "There you go, puppy, that was so good," he grins, wide and excited, his hand moving to cup your jaw, "now how about you do that again, hm? And do it on the floor, baby. Sit."

He's commanding you like an actual dog, and you're so turned on you can barely breathe.

Your movement is clumsy, like you're controlling your body from the outside. You slide off Satoru's lap and find yourself on the cold floor, feeling even more exposed so far from Satoru without the comfort of his body under yours. On your knees, slightly spread, you're subconsciously replicating a position you might or might not have seen in a few secretly watched videos.

"That's it, good boy." Satoru is still grinning, powerfully looking down at you, spreading his legs wide. "You look so good on your knees, angel. Who knew you were such a good little puppy?"

You're unsure if you should feel embarrassed or proud, relishing in the enticingly sweet praise from Satoru and fully submitting to the role he seems to enjoy you so much in. And it feels good too, turning off your brain and doing what you're told without thinking too much about it - with true doglike loyalty.

"Now repeat it. Bark for me."

"Woof..." It comes easier this time, not quite confident yet, not natural, but the hurdle you have to jump to push the sound from your throat is significantly smaller. You're not sure how to feel about that progression. You're also not sure if you should be putting this much thought into it at all.

Satoru looks so proud it makes your stomach flutter, a deep-rooted need to please him more taking seed in your guts. "That's my good pup," he praises, leaning forward with a confident smile, and he grabs the back of your head, forcing you to stay in place. "You'd do anything I tell you right now, wouldn't you?"

You realize you're slipping maybe a little too far into your role when you curiously cock your head at him, caught in his crystal blues. You nod, and he grins dangerously.

"Good, baby. Now, open wide for me. Let me see that pretty mouth."

To your surprise, you oblige without hesitation - without thinking about it. You feel exposed but comfortably so, your tongue darting out the slightest bit. Perfectly obedient and trembling in anticipation. Satoru's thumb slips into your mouth, pressing downwards lightly.

"You're such an obedient pet, angel," he murmurs, all of his attention on you. "Would you like a treat, hm?"

Your boyfriend's voice sends you into overdrive, every muscle tense in anticipation. You nod, barely even registering the movement. Satoru removes his thumb before promptly spitting in your mouth.

You can barely react before the wetness spreads on your tongue, the action so quick and sudden, and as shocking as it is degrading. You're equally mortified and excited, feeling his saliva claim the land beyond your teeth, a familiar taste filling your senses. Is this really happening? And why do you want more!? Your eyes find Satoru's, both of you equally stunned by the feelings his action stirs.

"Swallow."

Your dick twitches, painfully hard under the tone of his command. Everything feels hot as his spit slides down your throat, and heat only grows when Satoru chuckles, sitting back on the couch, never taking his eyes off you. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" The question feels horribly exposing.

You open your mouth to respond, courageously honest when he stops you, "Ah, ah, puppy. Dogs don't speak."

Your throat feels tight, quiet for a contemplating moment. "Woof." It's confident this time but it still feels impossible to hold eye contact. Your face burns and so does your crotch, overflowing with need.

Satoru bursts out in a grin, visibly proud, nearly chuckling, "That's it, baby! Good boy."

If you had a tail, it would be wagging.

Your attention shifts when Satoru's leg suddenly moves, one now stretched out, like... an invitation? Your eyes dart to his. He couldn't possibly be asking you to... hump him?

"Don't be shy, angel. You know what to do."

Do you know what to do?? Your body seems to, moving before you've fully consented. But consent follows in the form of a humiliated moan as soon as Satoru's shin presses against your pants, an unbearably warm friction right against your pulsating shaft. Satoru just smiles and only a soft hue of red over his sharply shaped cheeks betrays how feral he is for this. For you like this.

"Start humping, darling. Like the needy little dog you are," he instructs, sickly sweet, equally condescending, and all over electrifying. And you follow, hips shy at first, your face equally so, bowed and hidden and so so warm from embarrassment. But it feels good. Scarily good, especially with your boyfriend's eyes like lasers of ice burning on every surface he sees.

Desperate, your hips pick up pace, they grind harder, soon without restraint, shame lost somewhere with that final bark. And Satoru loves it, beaming with pride, power, and dominance, his hand reaching for your hair, fingers tangling and pulling. You don't want to, but defiance isn't an option now - so Satoru sees you, blissed, flushed, drooling like a mutt, eyes rolling back when you come.

It's way too premature, like you're 18 again and hormonal, like Satoru is your first and you can't control the moods and bursts of your body. But you're not a hormonal teenager and Satoru isn't your first, instead, you're this, and what's making you see white is only your boyfriend's leg, still and indifferent under your humping.

It's so humiliating, you feel like you orgasm forever. And Satoru laughs. Cruel only in a way, but mostly fond. Your legs are jelly, your whole body shakes, wet and disgusting, you feel like crying. Satoru pulls you up, and the look in his eyes makes everything bad disappear, your cheeks anew blooming with warmth but this time not from shame but from tenderness.

"Did my leg feel that good, hm?" he muses, still smiling, softer now than before. You can only nod as he lays you down on the couch, crawling on top of you, making you feel small but so protected, engulfed by his warmth, your dick still pulsating, somehow still hard amidst the stickiness surrounding it.

He hums in acknowledgment, leaning down to kiss your neck, a small lick to your jaw, a nibble of the skin. "I have something that'll feel even better, puppy," he mumbles, slowly inching his hands toward your pants, slender fingers slipping just past your waistband, evoking a gasp, pretty and almost innocent.

You whine when he pulls your pants downwards, revealing the mess you made only with the friction of Satoru's shin. He eyes it, fondly with a small grin, shamelessness somehow making you more shy now, body buzzing with humiliation. He follows the pull of his eyes, soon positioned between your bent, now naked legs, your boyfriend's lips visibly hungry.

You gasp when he dives down, tongue already anticipating your taste, now dragging over the length of your shaft. Satoru is so warm and so all-engulfing, your lungs struggle to deliver proper oxygen intake, and lightheadedness joins the thrill of his lips now wrapped around you. His white hair is soft, familiarly grounding as you grab it, not to push him closer, but to keep your consciousness from slipping too far.

He hums, enjoying your taste, enjoying your pulsation inside his mouth - maybe too much. Satoru is way too good at this, taking you deep, his head bobbing in a rhythm that has your eyes roll back, seeing the stars in your skull. And not once does he look away, almost cruelly never allowing a second to breathe outside of his intense gaze.

You cry out when he pulls away, panting while looking down. Is he teasing you, or is the sudden retreat for another purpose? You catch him just when he draws his own fingers from his mouth, wet with saliva and your essence, and your dick twitches embarrassingly high right in front of his face as he teasingly slow reaches down until you feel him press against your entrance.

He watches you wolf-like when pushing into you, two at once like a challenge. You pass humiliatingly easy, thighs tensing and daring to close when you feel him in you, searching, demanding. Your back arches, muscles quivering, every nerve ending on fire, burning like Satoru's fingers are made from coals, and you moan louder than ever before when he wraps his lips around you again. Your hand in his hair grips tight, pulls, no pushes... you're not even sure.

"'m gonna cum, gonnacum, Satoru, ah- S-sa-" You can't finish your plead, interrupted by a sudden, painfully intense white flash. Every muscle strains like it might rip, your lips parting for choked gasps and pathetic whimpers. Satoru's fingers massage you through, relentlessly upwards until you're gasping for air, thighs trying to close on him. His mouth pulls away, your semen swallowed as soon as it came.

He grins, proud, of you or himself, you don't know - can't know with the intense fog clouding any thought you could possibly muster. He moves upwards now forcing your thighs apart with his hips to meet your face, still beaming. "Baby," he coos, playful like you're not almost drooling from that orgasm, "I don't think you ever came that hard."

You barely respond with a hum, broken, spent, and somewhere embarrassed. You even struggle to focus your eyes on Satoru, drowsily looking upwards into his face, blood droning in your ears. He leans down for a kiss you can't really reciprocate but he doesn't mind.

"Will you pass out if we get you tail and ears?" he chuckles before there's a glint in his eyes and he leans over, close to your ear, a suggestion said like a secret, "what about a collar, puppy dog...?"

hi suguru fans. cooking up smth malicious rn.

i am a hater before anything BUT one of my biggest pet peeves is when ppl will post “ugh i hate this trope!! why do fanfic writers write this write smth different!!!” no!!!!! if u have such a problem w it write it yourself!!!!!!!!!!!

like authors write things for their own pleasure and joy, not for an audience…… learn how to write and write it urself if it bothers u so much!!!!

DONE W THE FRIENDS LIST POST YAYYYYY

alr yall would u guys jump me if i posted stepcest

♥︎: fluff ♡: angst ☆: suggestive ★: smut

♥︎♡ stay soft

♥︎ baby, my phone!! pt. 2!! (smau)

♥︎ i’ve never been so…