emeraldmabel

[emeraldmabel]

Kento Nanami Merch

Just a little fluff piece. Reader is an otaku and Nanami doesn't get it.

------------------------------------

"Is that another plushie of that hero guy?" Nanami sighs loudly, rolling his eyes while you open the package.

"Sure is!" you respond cheerfully, ignoring his attitude. You continue opening the package and pull out an Eraserhead phone charm, too.

"Sweetheart, where are you even going to put it? Isn't the 'Rubberhead guy' shelf in your office full?" he asks, hoping you will realize you should return these new collectibles.

You and Nanami had been dating for over a year, but you still weren't living together. He has stopped by after work to have dinner and brought in the package that was sitting on your front porch. Nanami doesn't understand your love of anime and manga, so, of course, he doesn't understand your desire to collect merch of your favorite characters. To him, it's just clutter.

It's your turn to roll your eyes. "Eraserhead, or Shota Aizawa, not 'Rubberhead guy', and no, it's not full. There is plenty of space on it." You begin walking to your office and Nanami follows.

As he walks into your office, Nanami sees a new shelf has been hung on your wall. You also finally hung up the most recent painting you completed of a different beloved anime character, freeing up more space on another shelf. Nanami just doesn't understand your obsession with these fictional men, and, frankly, it makes him feel a little... insecure, though he isn't ready to admit that to you.

"Oh, you hung up that long haired, fire guy's painting and you put up another shelf, moving all that Sundown guy's stuff over there." You had found just the right spot for Eraserhead and you turned to look at Nanami.

Feeling exasperated, you sigh "Kiyoka Kudo and Twilight or Loid Forger. Kento, I've told you all their names a hundred times, and it's printed on the boxes, but you still don't remember. It's like you don't listen to me."

"Darling, I do listen! I swear. I... I just..."

You are running out of patience for this conversation. It isn't the first time Nanami has been critical of your collection and you are reaching a breaking point. You throw your hands into the air, shaking them towards Nanami as punctuation for your words. "What is it, Ken? You always give me so much shit for my collection. I don't get it! It's my money and my house. I can do what I want!"

Nanami is stunned. He didn't expect such a strong reaction from you. Realizing his mistake, he steps closer to you and reaches out for your hand. Looking into your eyes, he says, "I'm sorry, my dearest. You are absolutely right. I have no say in what you do with your money or your home."

You try to slow your breathing, as you absorb his words. He is still holding your hand, gently rubbing his fingers over knuckles. Nanami falls to his knees and pulls you towards him so his face is nestled into your soft tummy and his arms are wrapped around you. He holds you like this for a few moments before saying, "I am sorry. I feel so ridiculous, but I- I think... I think I'm jealous of these characters... how much you clearly love them."

Unsure if you heard him correctly, you ask, "Kento, did you say you are jealous of fictional characters?"

He nods, the side of his face still pressed to your stomach.

You grin, suddenly understanding everything. "Ken, do you know what I like about these characters?"

He shrugs. "You find them attractive? Though I don't understand the attraction to Eraserhead as he is so scruffy and unkept "

You laugh as a bit of satisfaction blooms in your chest. "I knew you knew their names! But, no, it's not just because they are attractive. They all have traits that remind me of you."

Surprised, Nanami pulls back from you and looks up at your face. "Really?"

"Really. Eraserhead is so dedicated to his students, guiding and protecting them because he is the adult. Twilight is dedicated to his job and family, and to making the world a safer place. Kiyoka Kudo has a strong moral compass which he does not compromise on following, and he protects the woman be loves from danger."

"You make it sound like I'm perfect. I'm not that amazing."

"You are to me, Ken. I collect these things because, yes, they remind me of the characters and stories that I love, but they also remind me of you. Unfortunately, the world hasn't created any Kento Nanami merch for me to buy. If they did, I would fill a room full of everything you."

Nanami smiles up at you gently, feeling relieved. "That sounds wholly unnecessary."

Smiling back, you say, "I would do it though. You are that important to me."

----------------------------------------------------

A couple months later, Nanami is over at your house again for dinner and he is carrying a very long box. "What's in the box, Ken? I didn't order anything."

"I ordered this. It's for you. Please, open it." He sets the large box on the counter.

Pulling out a knife, you carefully cut though the tape on the box. Pulling open the flaps, you start laughing. You are face to face with a body size pillow of a shirtless Kento Nanami.

"So I can always be with you in bed, even if I'm not here. But don't stop. There is more."

You pull out the pillow, giving it a good hug before setting it on a chair. Under the pillow you find a custom Kento Funko Pop, a keychain that looks like his tie, and some stickers. "For your desk, your keys, and your water bottle or notebook. Wherever you want them, really."

"Ken, this is- I don't even know what to say. Thank you." You wrap your arms around Nanami's neck and reach up to give him a kiss.

"No thanks necessary. I just wanted to get you started on your Kento Nanami merch room."

Admiring the pillow again, you ask, "Who helped you with that picture on the pillow? You look so hot!"

Nanami blushes. "It was Gojo's idea. He took the pictures. He made me smear oil on my body. He said something about it making my muscles catch the light."

"Well, remind me to thank Satoru with a big basket of sweets, because I don't think I will get much sleep with that pillow in bed with me." you tease.

"The pillow can wait because I'm here to keep you awake tonight."

[emeraldmabel]

Still accurate a year later

thank god its friday amirite

[emeraldmabel]

I love that look on Geto's face! How he is holding his wrist to stop himself from reaching out and touching Gojo... and Gojo is just oblivious. Ugh!

[emeraldmabel]

Can this be me, please? 🥵

The door clicks shut behind you.

You drop your bag with a thud, eyes sweeping over the room. One bed. King-sized. Fantastic. There’s a couch—but it's quite small. Nanami steps in behind you, quiet as always, his expression unreadable. You glance over your shoulder and catch him looking at the bed, then at you.

He exhales slowly through his nose.

“Well,” he says, loosening his tie with a smooth pull. “This is... unfortunate.”

You arch a brow, forcing a light tone. “Depends on your definition.”

His hands still. The tie hangs loose now, the top button undone. That single break in his usual pristine armor makes your breath catch more than you want to admit.

“I can take the couch,” he offers, like it’s a punishment he’ll have to endure.

“No, you’ll break your back,” you respond. “We’re adults. We can share without making it weird.”

He looks at you for a long second. “You say that like it won’t be.”

You ignore the flutter in your stomach and head to the bathroom to change. When you return, he's already in bed—shirtless, glasses off, one arm behind his head, golden skin half-lit by the warm glow of the bedside lamp. A paperback rests on his chest, forgotten. He looks… relaxed. Dangerous.

You hesitate.

He glances over. “Something wrong?”

“No. Just... unexpected. You in bed, looking like that.”

His brow lifts. You watch the corner of his mouth twitch. The faintest smirk. “You could’ve knocked.”

“It’s our room,” you say, climbing in on your side, tugging the covers up. “Get over it.”

The silence grows longer.

And then, low and rough, he says, “If you keep looking at me like that, I won’t be able to.”

You freeze. “Looking at you like what?”

“Like you’ve already imagined how I taste.”

You don’t answer.

You don’t have to.

Because the next second, he’s rolling over, closing the space between you, eyes locked on yours—burning, careful, asking without words. One hand comes up, fingers brushing your jaw.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs.

You don’t.

So he doesn’t.

[emeraldmabel]

I love these so much!

Some gonana <3

Also my commissions are open <3

[emeraldmabel]

[emeraldmabel]

Hot and healing. What a combo!

your dilf doesn't need 'perfect'　ྀི　

“w-wait—” you were panting, legs wrapped around his hips where dilf!nanami straddled you on the countertop. you pull back just as his mouth dragged open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

you don't remember how exactly you ended up there, how things turned from soft touches over dinner to a heavy make out session—tongue sliding between your lips, big hands pressing you against his chest. 

it's been months of holding back for both of you—resuming your relation to slow touches, soft kisses, and ‘no pressure sweetheart’ every time things started getting heavy. since you weren't experienced and kind of…scared, dilf!nanami suggested waiting til you're ready. and you've been grateful for it, even when you returned home some night aching and soaked from just making out with him.

and maybe all the courage you gathered to tug him in by his tie tonight and kiss him like you were desperate for it, had drained from your veins the moment you felt one of his hand sliding up your thigh and the other slipping under your shirt—hot, rough, calloused.

“did i go too far?” he asked, one hand still under your shirt, fingers hovering just under the band of your bra, not moving an inch. “it's okay. you don't need to explain. we can stop, sweetheart.” his lips were swollen—covered with spit. his eyes glassy and you could feel the weight of his cock pressing against your shorts.

“no—! no… i want to,” you blurted out too quickly, voice overlapping his, desperate not to be misunderstood. but even as you said it, you couldn't bring yourself to look at him in the eyes, so you turn your head, letting your hands rest on his broad shoulders as you continue, 

“it's just…” you exhaled, shame blooming fast in your chest. “i'm not confident about. . y'know.” you gesture vaguely toward your boobs. “they look nice in a bra and—uh…you've probably seen better. i know they look big in a bra, but they don't, well…stay up. they're soft, and…” your voice tightens. “i just…i've read things. about guys saying they were disappointed. or didn't want to even see them during the act, unless they were covered—” you laugh nervously, voice cracking. “it's so embarrassing. i-i didn't want you to see them and think—think they're…ugly.”

the silence that followed felt unbearable.

it only makes your anxiety grow and you feel so dumb for talking about it, maybe you should just have stopped and that's it…because nanami didn't move an inch since your little monologue, his honey eyes still trying to catch your gaze. 

your stomach drops. you start to shift trying to get off the counter, anything to escape mortification. “look, i'm sorry,” you say, heart pounding, eyes glassy. “i-i shouldn't have brought it up, i—umh—it's ok. i just thought that'd be nice to tell you before hand and huh…fuck i ruined everything didn't i?”

that's when you feel his hands coming to your hips, pinning you in place on the countertop. you gasp as he presses his cock against your core harder than ever—twitching with need.

when you looked up, his eyes had darkened. his brows were furrowed, jaw tight, emotion bleeding into every sharp line of his face. “that,” he said flatly, “is the stupidest fucking thing i've ever heard.”

your breath hitched.

“i'm not a boy with a warped idea of what women are supposed to look like.” he leaned in, cupping your jaw to be sure your eyes stay locked onto his. “i'm a grown man. you think i'm painfully hard, grinding against you, shaking, because i'm waiting for something ‘perfect’? sweetheart, i'm here, aching because it's you. all of you that i want.”

his voice was low, frayed. barely holding together. “let me very clear, sweetheart, i'm going to lose my mind when i see them, i will drop to my knees and thank the gods for putting someone as sweet as you.”

your lips part, trying to breathe through the whirl of embarrassment and affection and…arousal.

“ken—”

“does this—” he rasped, grabbing your wrist and guiding your trembling fingers down to the thick, pulsing shape of his cock straining in his slacks, “feel like someone who's going to be disappointed?”

you whimpered, your smaller fingers squeezing his boner. 

“f-fuck…” he shuddered. “if you want to stop,” he breathed, forehead falling to your shoulder. “i'll stop. if you want to wait, we'll wait. another month. another year. i don't care. anything you want, for you to be comfortable.”

but his voice cracked at the end—like he was hanging by a thread. you felt it too, his body coiled tight, like a beast barely leashed.

“you're too nice, ken.” you say teary-eyed, half laughing, half melting.

“well, k-keep squeezing me like that and i'm afraid i won't be nice any longer.” he groaned, lip brushing your neck.

your thighs wrapped tighter around him. “you can take it off,”

his head snapped up. “you sure?” his gaze held yours as his fingers brushed the hem of your shirt again, and when you nodded, “arms up, sweets,” he said softly, and you obeyed.

when he tosses delicately your shirt to the side, skilled fingers quickly find your bra and unclip it, oh very so slowly.

when your bra hit the floor, everything held still. like the world paused long enough for nanami to lose his mind quietly. his eyes dragged up, heavy-lidded and wrecked. one big hand came up—trembling—cupping your breast with a war raging in his mind : should i worship or ruin them?

“sweets,” he breathed, thumbing over one of your nipple, “they're perfect. so fucking perfect i feel like i'm hallucinating.”

[emeraldmabel]

Suggestive, but not explicit... Not really

You and Nanami were in one of those "you don't get to touch yourself without his permission" types of relationships. Typically when he comes home from work, you were home already from your job, making dinner or relaxing in the living room. Today, as he walked in the door and set down his things, you were no where to be found. Your keys were on the entryway table and the shoes you wore to work this morning were on the rug, but the house was silent. 

Nanami removed his shoes and started to walk towards the closed door of the bedroom. As he got closer, he could hear moans and the sounds of the sheets rustling. Nanami takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly, mentally preparing himself to catch you breaking the rules. It has been so long since he last had to punish you for touching yourself without his permission, and he could feel himself growing excited at the idea. He reaches out, slowly turns the door handle, then gently pushes the door open.

As the door swings open, he steps inside to find you, still fully clothed from work, rolling around the bed, your nose buried in your favorite blanket. The blankets and sheets are all twisted and falling off the bed. "Sweetheart, what are you doing?" he asks with a hint of annoyance to his tone, after all, he was hoping to find you naked with your fingers somewhere they shouldn't be. 

"Kento! You are home!" you exclaim happily, sitting up and scooting off the bed to walk over and kiss his cheek. As you step back, you notice he looks frustrated. "What's wrong, honey? Did you have a bad day at work?" Glancing at the clock, "you're home on time."

Nanami takes another slow breath before speaking with tightness in his voice. "What were you just doing?" His face is tense and he looks to be on the verge of anger. 

"I was home from work early and I decided to wash the bedding. I had finished making the bed and everything smelled so fresh and felt so soft. I couldn't resist how good it smelled and I got a little carried away in enjoying it. But I still don't understand why you look so upset. I will fix the blanket before we go to bed." 

"The bedding smelled good? You were moaning so loudly I could hear you in the hall. I thought you were..." He trails off, anger replaced with the blush of embarrassment. 

A moment passes as realization dawns on you and you burst inyo giggles. "Kenny, you thought I was touching myself? Are you mad I wasn't?" You laugh even more as Nanami's face turns even redder. 

"Kento, if you want me to touch myself, all you have to do is ask," you say, glancing up at him through your eye lashes. "And, if you want to punish me, I can break the rules..." 

You back up to the bed, hiking your pencil skirt up around your hips and pulling your panties down, scooting just far enough back so your knees are bent and your feet rest on the edge of the bed, legs spread wide. Nanami can see everything and a low groan escapes his lips. 

You stick your middle and ring fingers in your mouth, getting them nice and wet before you reach down to spread your lower lips open. Nanami is mesmerized, as if he had never seen your bare body before. Gently rubbing your clit, you say, "Kento, I'm touching myself without your permission. Mmm... I'm such a bad girl. You really should come teach me a lesson about behaving better." 

After a moment, Nanami is broken from his trance. He unbuckles and removes his belt, then stalks over to you. Flipping you onto your stomach, he drags you up the bed, then secures your arms above your head to the headboard with his belt.

Grabbing your ponytail, he roughly pulls your head back to look up at him. "You asked for it, little girl. I hope you are ready, because I won't go easy on you."

A/N - inspired by the sounds I made smelling my clean laundry today

[emeraldmabel]

This is really beautiful. It's Papamin and healing and it just makes me feel so happy. 🥰

kinda written like a story but really isnt ;-;

AU/short story where Yuuji is slowly beginning to have similar urges to Sukuna. Nanami is the only one to notice.

One day at some party hosted by the school Yuuji becomes overwhelmed by the noise, the constant sneers and disgusted looks thrown at him. He's shaking, just as he feels he's going to do something he might regret, Nanami grabs his arm.

Nanami drags him away from the event back to the empty student dorms and into kitchen. Two balls of dough are dropped onto the table, Nanami pushes one towards him and says "knead."

Nanami grabs the other ball and begins to knead it. Yuuji snaps out of his surprise and quickly follows the instruction.

It helps. The movements are relaxing and let him exert force onto something without hurting anyone.

Nanami keeps doing it. Dragging him away just as he feels he might slip. It isn't always kneading dough, sometimes he is asked to grind spices or whip at cream. But some how Nanami is always there, ready with a task for him to do.

Soon feeling the urges starts to come with the expectation of a task. The few times Nanami isn't there he finds dough balls in the fridge with a note asking Yuuji to finish kneading them.

Sukuna gets quiet too during these tasks. Sometimes Yuuji can feel Sukuna slowly, almost hesitantly reach out, sitting just beneath his skin, gently following along with Yuujis repetitive movements.

Pale tattoos barely visible unless knowingly looked for cover his arms in those moments. Nanami glances at them sometimes but he never says anything. Allowing the vessel and curse to exist together in their unspoken truce.

a/n:

why tf does this always happen, it was supposed to be like 6 sentences of Nanami giving yuji an outlet wtf. Anyway I fully believe that Yuuji could tame Sukuna with food.

For those confused on what happened, Nanami helped Yuuji control his violent urges by giving himself an outlet. Sukuna has felt nothing but violent urges his whole life wanted to try as well. So they did like a shared control type thing, and it helped.

Idk I've just become really obsessed with the idea of Sukuna and Yuuji coming to some mutual understanding like "We are stuck with each other, we may as well try to make it work even if just for a moment"

[emeraldmabel]

So cute!

[emeraldmabel]

So good! The sudden mood shift gave me goosebumps

Safe word ♡ ryomen sukuna

cw: smut mdni, use of safe word, soft sukuna, based on this request

You’re not sure how long he’s been fucking you. Time’s gone blurry—melted into moans and muscle spasms, fingers digging into sheets, your body arching under his like instinct.

You're soaking wet. Wrung out. Shaking. And still, Sukuna doesn't stop.

"Look at you," he pants, watching the way your tits bounce with every brutal thrust. "All fucked dumb and you’re still takin' it like a good little slut."

Your mouth drops open—another moan spilling out, high and wrecked. Your thighs tremble on either side of his hips, limp now from being held up so long. You can barely move.

But you love it. Every second.

You were made to be spoiled like this. A pillow princess, built to be touched, worshipped, ruined.

He presses his palm over your belly, smirking when he feels the outline of his cock moving inside.

“Such a perfect fucking body,” he growls. “Takes me so well. You were made for this, weren’t you? All mine.”

You nod. Nodding feels easier than speaking.

Your body jerks with the rhythm of his thrusts. Your wrists are pinned above your head. His other hand is tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to make your eyes water.

But suddenly—it’s too much.

The moment creeps up fast. You’ve come too many times. Your body can’t handle more.

Your lips move without thinking—

“Rose.”

Your safeword.

Sukuna freezes.

Immediately.

Silence.

His hands loosen. His hips pull back. The feral, dominant glint in his eyes is gone in an instant—replaced by something soft. Something vulnerable.

"Shit—hey, hey." His voice lowers, gentle. Concern slipping into every syllable. “You okay, sweetheart? Look at me.”

You blink up at him. Overwhelmed, but safe. Still gasping.

“I-I’m okay. Just… needed to stop.”

His hands are already moving. Untying your wrists. Stroking your cheeks. His lips kiss your forehead, then your shoulder, then your temple.

"Good girl,” he whispers. “You did so good telling me. So proud of you.”

He grabs a blanket, covers you up, and lies beside you—pulling you against his chest like you're made of glass.

His voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it.

“You were perfect. You’re always perfect. I got you now, yeah? Just breathe. I’m not going anywhere.”

You nod into his neck, tears slipping down your cheeks—not from pain, but from how held you feel.

Sukuna holds you tighter.

“Next time,” he says quietly, brushing your hair back, “we take it slow. I wanna hear those pretty sounds without hurting you. You’re too precious to me, baby.”

You manage a soft smile.

Because no matter how hard he goes—he always brings you back. Always holds you after.

TL: @samm1e13 @syleepy @werfiedeii @mikemsmm @yanderebluelockfan @cyberheartrebel @arwawawa2 @valexqpt @snowsilver2000 @mitsurisupporter @meikstv @ravenbc @mihyas-dieehefrau

A/N: bleh

ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

[Masterlist]

[emeraldmabel]

Love this so much! One of my favorite movies

Romeo + Juliet⚰️

[emeraldmabel]

Nanami and I share this burden

[emeraldmabel]

nanami on his knees in front of the couch, still wearing his suit, though it's gotten rumpled, his tie loosened and hanging off his shoulder. gojo writhing into nanami's mouth best as he can, one hand on nanamis once perfectly coiffed hair, now tousled, the other gripping a cushion hard. whining about kento this, kento that, baby please because he's so close but nanami keeps edging him, stopping right before hes about to burst; spitting on gojo's dick and licking it clean and massaging his balls with his tongue and rolling them gently in his mouth while humming, making gojo squirm, naked from the waist down, the top of his uniform unbuttoned.

nanami nuzzling gojo's cock against his cheek and giving it soft, decadent kisses along the length and looking at gojo like he's edible, like he's something to spread open and eat. gojo's legs open wide and bent at the knee, trying to give the younger man as much room as possible. nanami has given him hickeys all over his thighs, dark bruises and bites that sting whenever nanami touches them.

he eats his hole as well. of course. spreads the rim open on his tongue and then his fingers and goes back to sucking the man off. his face is flushed from the exertion, his throat aches, his knees would hurt if he hadn't taken the precaution of setting a cushion down first... and none that matters. he bobs his head steadily and fingers gojo's hole until the older man is cumming in his mouth. some of it gets on his face though because gojo leaks like a broken faucet but he doesn't necessarily mind.

[emeraldmabel]

"...what if I suffocate you?"

"Then so be it."

Sukuna is ready to die just to get a taste.

Face sitting ft. Sukuna | shy-virgin f!reader ( This came to me in a dream...)

"But it's soo embarrassinggg..." you pouted as your boyfriend sukuna suggested a lustful idea of facesitting, considering you were too scared and unprepared for the real deal.

"c'mon doll 's not embarrasin', I'll go slow I promise" He promised, yeah right as if. Knowing your boyfriend, he wouldn't think about not going in rough, absolute zero patience in that man.

"But— but what if I suffocate you!? And then you'll—" He interrupted you by closing your mouth with a kiss— a kiss so tender and sweet.

"then so be it."

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧

"s-stop wait— wait!" You barely even sat down, let alone undressed before he immediately started lapping through your clothed pussy. He placed and pushed down his thick tattooed hands on your thighs to stop you from squirming as he licks and laps through your soaked panties.

"kuna! 'm not yet ready—!" He didn't care, Sukuna didn't care what you were spitting out, all he knows was how aroused you are that you're practically drenching his face. Even though you were still clothed, the hot sensation of his tongue licking you up and down made your pussy twitch and clench around nothing.

he already pushed your cute laced panties aside and started circling his tongue around your clit "wait 'kuna it feels weird— mmf—!" you blurted out. "Really? heh— That means I'm doing my job just fine." Sukuna just chuckles.

You could feel you were close but it wasn't enough.

"it's not— hngh- not enough ! need more..."

Sukunas eyes widen, flared up. It wasn't enough? What HE was doing wasn't enough? C'mon it's sukuna we're talkin' about, the pettiest man alive (so petty he tried to kill his nephew oop) so ofc he'll take your word and shove his whole tongue into you.

His hands leaving marks onto your thighs as he pressed you down onto his face so hard you couldn't move. He swirled his tongue all over your insides, hitting and hitting your g-spot and to make things "worse" he pressed you down until his nose was hitting your clit.

The sensation of his nose rubbing against your clit and his tongue deep inside you made feel things you've never felt before. "wait 'kuna 'm so close !"

You could feel him grinning beneath you. "C'mon baby cum for me, I know you can do it.." he barely even finished his sentenced before you finished all over his face.

So that's what face sitting is like huh? Might be your new favorite hobby now.

© mystt-mystt | Do not copy, steal, feed into AI or translate any of my works

[emeraldmabel]

Mmm... I would love to get high with Choso.

Hiii it’s me again (split tongue fic ;) and I had another idea for Choso!? What about stoner!reader smoking with Cho and things get real steamy!?! 🫣🤭 -🪷

Hellooo gorg!!! You’re my first emoji anon omg!!! I feel so honoured, I hope you enjoy this. I absolutely lovvved writing this.

So High!

Choso Kamo x reader SMUT MDNI 18++

Getting high with your best friend for the first time gets hotter than expected…

It starts like nothing.

Just a casual hangout. Like always.

Choso’s sprawled on his couch in those stupid grey sweats that should be illegal, tattoos on full display under a loose black tank top, hair tied back, pierced lip glinting every time he grins. You’re perched beside him, a little nervous but trying not to show it—especially when he lights up.

“You ever smoked before?” he asks, already exhaling a lazy puff, voice deep and syrupy.

You shrug, lips glossed, lashes curled, outfit casual-cute in the way that says I didn’t try… but I did. “Not really. But I trust you.”

He raises a brow at that. “You shouldn’t.”

You laugh, taking the joint when he hands it over, fingers brushing.

His hand lingers.

You pretend not to notice. Kind of.

The first inhale burns. Makes your eyes water.

Choso’s already laughing low in his chest, watching you cough into your fist.

“Lightweight,” he teases, tugging the joint back.

But a little while later, when the world starts to hum and your body melts into his old couch, you’re not so worried. You’re warm. Loose. A little too aware of the way his thigh is pressed against yours, how good he smells—earthy, sharp, a little like smoke and something expensive.

You’re laughing about something stupid when it happens.

His hand rests on your bare thigh. Casually. No big deal.

Except it is.

You glance at him, your smile fading into something softer. Choso’s eyes are half-lidded, flushed from the high, jaw flexing as he watches the TV. But his hand doesn’t move.

And neither do you.

The air goes thick.

You shift slightly, your knee brushing his hand, and he looks at you.

Slowly.

Eyes heavy-lashed, pupils blown, mouth parted.

“You okay?” he murmurs, but his tone is low. Careful. Like he already knows the answer.

Your lips part to say something, anything—

But then his fingers slide up just a little higher on your thigh.

Just a test. A push.

Your breath catches.

And Choso smirks, lazy and hungry, like he’s just confirmed everything he suspected.

“Didn’t know getting high made you blush, pretty girl.”

You stretch your legs across his lap like it’s the most casual thing in the world. Like your skin’s not already buzzing where his hand still rests on your thigh, thumb brushing slow, mindless circles.

“So,” you say, voice a little hoarse from the smoke, “you always get this quiet when you’re high?”

Choso hums. “Nah. You’re just louder than usual.”

You scoff, nudging him with your toe. “Am not.”

He smirks down at your legs, those lazy eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Are too. You’re always giving me shit for being antisocial and brooding. Now you’re the one talking my ear off.”

Your face warms—not from embarrassment, but from how damn comfortable he looks with you draped over him, how soft that teasing edge in his voice is. You try not to focus too hard on the way his hand shifts, resting just a little higher now on your bare thigh. Not inappropriate… but close enough to make your stomach flutter.

You bite your lip and look away, suddenly very focused on the glowing TV screen. “You like when I talk too much anyway.”

He lets out a low laugh, the kind that rumbles from his chest and rolls into your spine. “Yeah. S’cute.”

Cute.

You try not to show how that lands. Your skin feels hotter suddenly, your breath catching just slightly in your chest.

You clear your throat and play it off. “So what’s this game you’re always obsessed with?”

He grabs the controller, shifting a little so his hand brushes your knee again. “Lemme show you.”

You’re barely paying attention. Not to the screen, not to the explanation.

You’re watching his hands. Long fingers, knuckles tattooed, veins prominent as they flex over the buttons. One of the rings he always wears glints under the dim light, and you wonder how it would feel dragging along your—nope.

You shut that thought down fast.

But then Choso leans in, murmuring something about the controls, his face close to yours, and that cologne hits you again—woodsy, sharp, him—and you swear your thighs twitch without permission.

He’s not even doing anything.

Just talking. Just sitting there. Just being Choso. And it’s driving you insane.

You grip a throw pillow against your stomach like it’ll somehow smother the ache building low in your belly. Your heart thuds heavy in your chest. And it’s so stupid, because he’s your best friend. Your tattooed, pierced, broad-shouldered, fuckable best friend.

And he has no idea.

…Does he?

Choso doesn’t say anything at first. Just watches you.

Your attention’s fixed on the screen, or at least you’re pretending it is, but your legs haven’t moved from his lap. In fact, you’ve somehow gotten even closer—your knee brushing his side, your arm lazily slung over the back of the couch behind him like you belong there.

And maybe you do. But the way you’re clinging now? Like his warmth is the only thing tethering you to reality?

Yeah. He notices.

“You good?” His voice is low, but there’s a teasing note woven in.

“Hm?” You blink at him like you weren’t zoning out thinking about how good his fingers would feel wrapped around your throat.

He raises a brow, letting his eyes drag slowly over you. “You’re just… all over me tonight.”

You scoff, cheeks going warm. “I am not.”

But your fingers are playing with the hem of his sleeve now. Fidgeting. Tucking your feet tighter against his thigh like you’re trying to curl into him. Your face is flushed, pupils wide and glassy. And your bottom lip is so red from where you’ve been nervously biting it.

Choso grins, all lazy and confident, like he knows exactly what’s going on.

“You’re clingy when you’re high,” he murmurs, shifting slightly so his thigh presses right up against your ass. “It’s cute.”

You freeze for a second—just long enough for him to feel the tension spike in your body—before you recover with a scoff and a roll of your eyes.

But it’s too late.

He’s seen it now. That flicker of panic. That guilty little hitch in your breath.

He leans in a bit closer, crowding your space just enough to make your pulse jump. His voice drops.

“You wanna sit in my lap or something?”

You look at him then. Really look.

And there’s a cocky little smile tugging at his pierced lip, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

Your mouth opens—maybe to sass him, maybe to say fuck it and climb into his lap—but nothing comes out.

He watches your throat bob as you swallow.

“Just ask,” he says, voice like velvet and smoke. “I don’t bite unless you want me to.”

You inhale sharply, and his grin only deepens.

Yeah. He definitely knows now.

Your breath stutters as you stare at him, but god—you’re too high and too needy to fight the pull anymore.

You swing your leg over and lower yourself into his lap, trying to act casual. Like this is normal. Like your heart isn’t hammering in your chest and your skin isn’t burning with the heat of his body

But Choso’s not playing the pretend game anymore.

His hands are on your thighs the second you settle, big palms warm and slow as they slide up under your shorts, thumbs brushing over the soft inner skin like he’s testing just how far you’ll let him go.

“See?” he mutters, lips ghosting the edge of your jaw. “Knew you wanted to sit in my lap.”

You gasp softly, head tilting instinctively when he mouths at your throat. You can feel the sharp press of his piercings when he kisses your neck, a mix of softness and sting that has you whimpering already.

And Choso—fuck—he groans, low and dirty, the sound vibrating right through you.

“You’re so warm,” he mumbles, hand dragging higher until he brushes the curve of your ass. “Fuck—look at you. Already squirming, baby.”

You shift without thinking, hips rolling against him, and the pressure of his cock under you is unmistakable now—thick and hard, straining in his sweats.

You choke on a breath.

His hand slides around to grip your hip, forcing you to grind down on him slow.

“Feels good?” he asks, eyes locked on yours, half-lidded and hungry.

You nod, lips parting, breath shaky as your fingers grip his shoulders for balance. His other hand trails up your spine beneath your shirt, fingers splayed wide, hot and possessive.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, head falling back to stare at you, “I wanna ruin you so bad.”

You don’t even realize you’re grinding harder now, chasing friction, biting your lip so hard it aches.

And he notices. Of course he notices.

“Go on,” he breathes, cock twitching beneath you. “Use me.”

You shudder.

Then you move.

Grinding down slow and messy, gasping every time his cock drags right against your clit through your panties

He groans again, jaw clenched tight, hands everywhere—one tangled in your hair, the other guiding your hips just how he wants.

“Shit,” he growls, panting, “You’re so fuckin’ wet—bet you’d slide down my cock so easy, baby. Bet you’d take every inch like a good girl.”

Your head spins, his words pouring molten heat straight between your legs.

You’re so close and he knows it—he feels it. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your thighs trembling from the tension coiling tight in your belly.

And just when you think you’re about to fall apart, Choso grins up at you—dark and mean and starving.

“You gonna cum just from grinding on me?” he taunts, voice like silk-wrapped sin. “Didn’t even need my fingers. Fuck—you’re desperate, huh?”

You moan—broken and high and wrecked—and he groans right with you, burying his face in your neck.

“I’ll give you everything, baby,” he growls, voice ragged. “Wanna feel you cum on my cock. Wanna watch you fall apart.”

Your forehead’s pressed to his, hips grinding in lazy, needy circles, and your breaths are shared, shallow, desperate. The high fogs everything around you—except the heat between your thighs, and the thick press of his cock against your pussy through too-thin fabric.

Choso’s gripping your hips so tight it’s almost bruising, his eyes locked on your face like he needs to watch you fall apart.

“You’re close,” he breathes, voice barely a rasp, “you’re right there, huh?”

You nod frantically, eyes glassy, body trembling as you chase that high—rubbing yourself down on him with reckless need, soaking through your panties and his sweats. It’s obscene how wet you are, the slick, sticky drag of your clothed pussy over his cock making him groan.

“Fuck—look at you,” he grits, “fucking soaking me through—so messy, baby.”

You let out a whimper that turns into a gasp, thighs clenching tight around his waist. Your fingers tangle in his shirt, forehead pressed into the crook of his neck as your body jerks with every grind. So close. So high. So fucking needy.

He shifts beneath you, angling his hips, grinding up into you now—and that’s it.

You choke on a cry, thighs shaking, hips stuttering as you cum on him, still fully dressed, panties clinging to you like second skin from how wet they are.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, head dropping back as he feels the warmth of your release soaking him. “That’s it. Ride it out. Just like that—fuck, you’re perfect.”

You’re still twitching, panting hard, when he grabs your face and pulls you into a messy kiss, all tongue and teeth and need. You melt into it, still dazed—until you feel him tug the crotch of your shorts and panties aside.

“Wait—” you gasp, but he’s already lining himself up, already hissing through his teeth as the thick head of his cock catches on your soaked entrance.

“You’re fuckin’ dripping, baby,” he growls, “can’t wait. Can’t—need to feel you.”

And then he’s pushing in.

No teasing. No warning. Just one long, slow thrust—filthy and deep—burying himself inside you with a broken groan.

Your head falls back, a choked sob in your throat as he stretches you open, too big, too good, hitting every spot like he’s meant to be there.

“God,” he groans, eyes fluttering shut, “you’re so tight—fuck—so wet for me already.”

Your hands clutch at his shoulders, back arching as he starts to thrust—slow, lazy, possessive. He never pulls all the way out, just rocks into you, dragging his cock against every aching spot inside.

And it’s messy. Your cum smeared all over his length, slick sounds filling the room as he ruts into you through soaked panties.

You’re gasping again, already trembling.

And Choso’s losing his goddamn mind.

“Fucking knew you’d feel this good,” he groans, biting at your jaw, “fuck—I could die right here, inside this pussy.”

His hand finds your throat, not squeezing, just holding. Possessive. Grounding. His.

“Ride me, baby. Make me cum inside you. Fuckin’ ruin me.”

You’re straddling him still, thighs sticky, breath ragged, his cock still buried deep inside you. Your panties are shoved to the side, your shorts pushed away also —just enough for him to slip in, because neither of you had the patience to get naked. And now?

Now you’re riding him in slow, lazy circles, your soaked pussy sucking him in again and again, making him throb inside you.

“You’re so fuckin’ warm,” Choso groans, head tipped back against the couch. “You hear that, baby? Listen to this fuckin’ pussy.”

And you can hear it. Wet and obscene, every drag of your hips making another filthy sound echo off the walls of his tiny apartment.

He reaches for the blunt from earlier, burned low in the ashtray on the coffee table. Flicks the lighter with one hand, the other still gripping your hip. You watch through hooded eyes as he lights it, inhales deep, exhales even deeper—cloud of smoke curling past his lips like a fucking sin.

Then he holds it out to you.

“Hit it,” he murmurs, voice thick with lust and smoke. “Don’t stop riding me, though.”

You lean forward, his cock grinding even deeper inside you at the angle, and wrap your lips around the end of the blunt. His fingers brush your mouth, steadying it, watching you like you’re his whole fucking religion. You take a slow drag, eyes locked on his, before pulling back and blowing the smoke into his mouth.

He catches it, kisses you through it, tongues tangling—you moan into his mouth.

“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me,” he rasps. “That pretty pussy and that fuckin’ mouth—goddamn, baby.”

You keep moving, keep grinding down, rolling your hips like you’re made for him. The high’s hitting again, warm and dreamy, blurring everything but the stretch inside you and the heat of his skin.

Choso passes the blunt again, and you take it with shaking fingers, barely able to hold steady as you fuck yourself on his cock.

“That’s it,” he coos, thumb rubbing lazy circles into your thigh. “Keep takin’ it. So fuckin’ good for me.”

Your head drops to his shoulder, and he tilts his chin to nuzzle your cheek, whispering filth right against your ear.

“You gonna cum for me again, huh? Gonna soak me while we’re fuckin’ blazed? Just sittin’ here like a good girl, milkin’ my cock?”

You whimper—tiny and broken—and his arms wrap around you tight, his hips finally starting to fuck up into you, slow but deep, so deep.

“Yeah. That’s it. Get high. Get full. Stay just like this, baby. My perfect fuckin’ girl.”

Your thighs are shaking, your hips barely moving anymore, and all you can do is cling to him—forehead pressed against his, hands gripping the collar of his tank top like a lifeline.

“Choso,” you breathe, voice trembling, too gone to say anything else. You’re not even riding him now—just grinding, slow and clumsy, pussy fluttering around his cock as you fall apart.

He knows. He can feel it.

“Aw, fuck, baby,” he grunts, holding you tighter. “You gonna cum again? That pretty lil’ pussy squeezing me so fuckin’ tight.”

You nod against his mouth, lips brushing his, your breath hitching as your orgasm crests again—hot and intense, ripping through you like fire. Your whole body trembles, thighs clenching around his waist, and you go soft, moaning into him like you’re breaking.

And that’s all it takes.

Choso groans—deep and ragged—and thrusts up once, twice, hard, and then stills, cock pulsing deep inside you.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” he hisses, head dropping back as he fills you, his arms locked around your waist to keep you in place. “Shit, baby—take it. Take all of it. Goddamn.”

You feel it—all of it—thick and hot, spilling deep inside, leaking out the second his hips twitch again.

You’re both quiet for a beat, just the soft haze of weed smoke and your breath in his ear. He strokes your thigh absentmindedly, hand sliding up under your shirt.

“Y’did so good,” he murmurs, nuzzling your temple. “Fuckin’ milked it outta me.”

You hum, blissed-out and dazed, letting your fingers trace over the chain around his neck.

He taps the end of the blunt, reignites it, takes a lazy hit—and then offers it to you with the ghost of a cocky smile.

“Ready for round two, or you need a minute, baby?”

[emeraldmabel]

This cracks me up!

| Toji noticing Megumi's shikigami for the first time |

i made this yesterdayy hihi and apologies for the small fonts. this is my very few attempt drawing comic strip so there's so much thing i need to learn :3