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[sugurusfavemonkey]

this is a 18+ blog ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ minors (kindly) get lost ୨୧ mostly fluff, some angst, occasional smut ୨୧

ASKS ALWAYS OPEN ❣ requests open for jjk ❣ one shots, drabbles, headcanons and blurbs (AUs welcomed) rules: no non-con, incest/stepcest, age play, watersports/scat play, underage sex, mahito or naoya

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@sugurusfavemonkey 2024-2025 - DO NOT repost, translate, or copy my work

[sugurusfavemonkey]

Nanami's weapons of mass destruction™

"my eyes are up here" prompt for nanami week day 1 w/c: 1.8k content: no actual smut but I'm still gonna tag this as nsfw due to suggestive themes and crass language, therefore mdni; crack; tiddies™; reader wears a bra; reader is in a male dominated field with the objectification of our favorite corporate dropout's boobies; nanami art: @/xiaoshy_otp on x; divider: @strangergraphics

You'd never jeopardize your professional relationship by displaying obvious signs of attraction, but, objectively speaking, Nanami Kento was a very handsome man. Even Ino could corroborate your thesis. In fact, Nanami's apprentice is always more than happy to express his admiration for said man in any and all departments.

That being said, nobody could blame you if your eyes kept wandering down throughout his speech every time he so much as breathed in. It's not your fault that his shirt stretched obscenely over his chest, revealing glimpses of deliciously tan skin through buttons that seemed to be fighting for their lives under the strain.

You licked your dry lips, fire burning in the pit of your stomach, your brain conjuring the wildest scenarios, some of which the blue shirt would simply burst open, buttons flying everywhere... Your fingers twitched aimlessly at your side with the strong pull of just reaching out and squeezing his pecs - you had a feeling the sensation would be heavenly, brain chemistry altering, a life-changing experience.

"... have you been listening to a single word of what I just said?" his stern tone brought you out of your daydream, eyes flying up to meet his golden eyes already set on you in a reproving glare worthy of a disappointed parent. You automatically shrank on your seat, shoulders hunching in to appear smaller.

"Hmm?" you went for the innocent look, wide eyes glancing at him from underneath your lashes.

Nanami clenched his jaw before sighing dejectedly, fingers squeezing the bridge of his nose to fight off the incoming migraine of dealing with another undisciplined sorcerer.

"I understand this is a very tedious subject to you, but I need your attention right now. Let's not make this longer than it needs to be, so we can both move on with our lives."

Logically, he stood absolutely correct: it was crucial to absorb all the information Nanami had been spewing at you if you hoped to survive. You truly wanted to be dutiful and actually listen to his debrief… but then he crossed his arms and you were doomed.

Those things were contradicting every single law of physics. How was it even possible for those knockers to stay confined within the fabric when he squeezed them together like that? It shouldn't be possible for a man to have such a large chest.

"Hmhmm," you nodded, completely incapable of listening to a single word but still pretending to the best of your ability.

Not even ten seconds had passed, and the words died on his throat at the realization that he had, once again, lost you. Nanami called your name, exasperation pouring from his every pore. His tone only added fuel to your unholy thoughts. The fact that Nanami not only owned a huge pair of bazookas, but also a deep raspy voice that was the perfect mix of alluring and commanding was unfair for the remainder of the male specimens.

"Yes?" Your response came out mindlessly, gaze still lost in the expanse of his chest.

"My eyes are up here."

That's what it took to get you out of your own head, his words finally seeming to reach some point of your consciousness. Your entire body went rigid, a shiver running down your spine upon the sheer humiliation of being caught ogling your colleague, with whom you were supposed to maintain a respectful relationship.

Your lips parted, but no words came out. For all of the excuses you had conjured in your head before now, all of them seemed to have vanished. Finally, some resemblance of rationality reached your spaced-out brain as you floundered an explanation:

"I k-know! Lovely eyes, by the way. I just- I couldn't really help myself," you bit your lip, trying your best to not let your eyes roam, "it's- the shirt!" You blurted eventually.

Kento glanced down at his own shirt, brows furrowing in confusion, "what about the shirt? Is it dirty? buttoned up wrong, perhaps?"

"No! It's perfect, pristine even, as usual. Lovely shade of blue, brings out your eyes and hair really," you rambled on, hoping to escape the awkwardness that would certainly follow if you revealed your actual reasoning.

"And that warranted your gawking...?"

You averted your gaze to the floor, fixating on a suspicious-looking stain on the wooden boards.

"Not... exactly. It's not really the shirt, more so your chest?"

"My chest?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Nanami! Do I have to spell it? Yes, your goddamn titties have been staring me in the face for the past twenty minutes and you expect me not to gawk?"

"I don't have-"

"Yes, you do! You have huge bazookas, weapons of mass destruction, if you will. So buff, your shirt is nearly bursting at the seams, and the buttons are holding on by a flat-out miracle. Those huge fucking melons and I'm the one who has to wear a bra!"

The redness in Nanami's face spread more and more with each word coming out of your mouth, reaching the tips of his ears and rushing down to his chest.

"I apologize for causing such a distraction, I think."

"Are you kidding me?! I've literally been peeping at you when you're just trying to do your job! I'm the one who owes you an apology! It's not your fault your work at the gym has been paying off... or maybe you've just lucked out on the genetics lottery and bought a shirt one size too small and my tiny, stupid bird brain cannot handle the sight," you babbled until you saw Nanami's shoes step into your vision field. You hadn't even realized he had gotten up and around his desk so he could approach.

Your eyes flew up to meet his, avoiding stopping anywhere near his chest.

"I have been working out more often lately," he mentioned casually.

"See!" You waved one hand widely, gesturing to his large pectoral muscles, "and it shows! Beautifully, may I add."

"Thank you. I guess."

"You're welcome! Maybe consider investing in some new shirts in a bigger size," you suggested, immediately wincing at your own boldness.

"I will." Kento declared to appease your nerves and then paused, eyes searching your face, "while on the subject, let me tell you that you do not have a 'stupid bird brain'."

"Only tiny?" You questioned teasingly, glad to see how easily he seemed to be taking your lack of professionalism and using his breech to make the atmosphere lighter.

"No. Not that, either," he smiled and you could've sworn there was a playful glint to his honey colored eyes, "easily distracted, but not tiny. You tend to be very intelligent when it matters."

"That's a really big compliment coming from Mister 7:3 sorcerer."

Nanami chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "It's the truth."

There was a halt in the conversation, which you should have used to steer away from the gauche topic, yet you just had to further embarrass yourself:

"Since we're being honest and putting our cards on the table, can I make a teensy tiny request?" You rushed to give him an out, "feel free to deny it, by the way!"

"Go ahead," Nanami nodded once, curious.

"May I touch them?" Your voice came out meek, almost a whisper, but still loud enough for the blond man to hear.

"You want to... touch-"

"You're right. I'm sorry. That was too much." You cut him off, desperate to save what little dignity you still had (if you even had any).

"I'll admit, your request took me by surprise. Will-" he cleared his throat, "will touching them help you regain your focus?"

"Absolutely!" You nodded vigorously, perking up at the notion that your dream might come true after all.

You jumped up from your seat, restraining yourself from actively bouncing from joy so as to not spook Nanami with your eagerness lest he change his mind.

"So, how do we-"

He had barely started when your hands had already reached for his pecs, one around each mound.

"Holy- How are they soft but firm at the same time?! This is incredible," you giggled before squeezing them twice for good measure.

"Muscle can appear supple unless flexed," Nanami explained matter-of-factly. His pragmatic response was misleading, though. If it wasn't for the deep flush permeating his skin and his sharp intake of air, you would have guessed he was wholly unbothered by the situation.

"Can you-"

You squealed in delight when he flexed before you even finished asking. You took a deep breath, letting your hands fall to your sides and throwing a bright smile his way.

"Did you get your fill?"

"I did," you stepped back, hands tightly clasped together behind you. "Thank you."

"Alright. Now that we've got that out of the way," Kento stopped on his tracks, noting just where your gaze zoned right back in to. "You said you would focus."

"Yeah. That was a complete lie. I don't think my brain will ever function properly again after this experience. It's all I can think about."

You knew Nanami was tired of your antics by then, but you still had quite a bit to say:

"You know what's incredible? That not only do you have these massive jugs, a tiny waist, and a perfectly round and perky tush, but you're also respectable, kind, and generous enough to let a mere peasant such as myself hold them." You paused briefly, shrugging before adding, "I just wanna bury my face in your chest. I feel like that would fix all of my problems."

You did it. Nanami was permanently scarred. That's the only plausible explanation for the face you were seeing. His parted lips, impossibly pink ears, and wide eyes were a novelty to you when compared to his usual stoic and unmoving facade.

"Now it was too much," you concluded.

Kento shook his head, "we have work to do right now, but if you manage to refocus on our business so we can finish this debrief, I promise you can touch to your heart's content."

"For real?"

"Very much so. You can even 'bury your face in my chest' if you want." Nanami's eyes followed the curves of your body down to your feet and back up to your own, his gaze darkening, "as long as I get to touch back, that is."

"Excuse me?" Your jaw dropped, molten heat rushing through your veins.

"Forgive me if I'm being too forward, but you have been showering me with compliments all evening. What if I wanted to return the favor? It's only fair."

Maybe there are some perks to letting go of your filter every once in while...

a/n: look who's back after literal months of unannounced hiatus? Not really, though. I don't know if I'll even submit anything for the other days of Nanami week, but the prompt for day one did give me a burst of inspiration I haven't felt in a long time, so you have this short piece.

[sugurusfavemonkey]

Nanami's weapons of mass destruction™

"my eyes are up here" prompt for nanami week day 1 w/c: 1.8k content: no actual smut but I'm still gonna tag this as nsfw due to suggestive themes and crass language, therefore mdni; crack; tiddies™; reader wears a bra; reader is in a male dominated field with the objectification of our favorite corporate dropout's boobies; nanami art: @/xiaoshy_otp on x; divider: @strangergraphics

You'd never jeopardize your professional relationship by displaying obvious signs of attraction, but, objectively speaking, Nanami Kento was a very handsome man. Even Ino could corroborate your thesis. In fact, Nanami's apprentice is always more than happy to express his admiration for said man in any and all departments.

That being said, nobody could blame you if your eyes kept wandering down throughout his speech every time he so much as breathed in. It's not your fault that his shirt stretched obscenely over his chest, revealing glimpses of deliciously tan skin through buttons that seemed to be fighting for their lives under the strain.

You licked your dry lips, fire burning in the pit of your stomach, your brain conjuring the wildest scenarios, some of which the blue shirt would simply burst open, buttons flying everywhere... Your fingers twitched aimlessly at your side with the strong pull of just reaching out and squeezing his pecs - you had a feeling the sensation would be heavenly, brain chemistry altering, a life-changing experience.

"... have you been listening to a single word of what I just said?" his stern tone brought you out of your daydream, eyes flying up to meet his golden eyes already set on you in a reproving glare worthy of a disappointed parent. You automatically shrank on your seat, shoulders hunching in to appear smaller.

"Hmm?" you went for the innocent look, wide eyes glancing at him from underneath your lashes.

Nanami clenched his jaw before sighing dejectedly, fingers squeezing the bridge of his nose to fight off the incoming migraine of dealing with another undisciplined sorcerer.

"I understand this is a very tedious subject to you, but I need your attention right now. Let's not make this longer than it needs to be, so we can both move on with our lives."

Logically, he stood absolutely correct: it was crucial to absorb all the information Nanami had been spewing at you if you hoped to survive. You truly wanted to be dutiful and actually listen to his debrief… but then he crossed his arms and you were doomed.

Those things were contradicting every single law of physics. How was it even possible for those knockers to stay confined within the fabric when he squeezed them together like that? It shouldn't be possible for a man to have such a large chest.

"Hmhmm," you nodded, completely incapable of listening to a single word but still pretending to the best of your ability.

Not even ten seconds had passed, and the words died on his throat at the realization that he had, once again, lost you. Nanami called your name, exasperation pouring from his every pore. His tone only added fuel to your unholy thoughts. The fact that Nanami not only owned a huge pair of bazookas, but also a deep raspy voice that was the perfect mix of alluring and commanding was unfair for the remainder of the male specimens.

"Yes?" Your response came out mindlessly, gaze still lost in the expanse of his chest.

"My eyes are up here."

That's what it took to get you out of your own head, his words finally seeming to reach some point of your consciousness. Your entire body went rigid, a shiver running down your spine upon the sheer humiliation of being caught ogling your colleague, with whom you were supposed to maintain a respectful relationship.

Your lips parted, but no words came out. For all of the excuses you had conjured in your head before now, all of them seemed to have vanished. Finally, some resemblance of rationality reached your spaced-out brain as you floundered an explanation:

"I k-know! Lovely eyes, by the way. I just- I couldn't really help myself," you bit your lip, trying your best to not let your eyes roam, "it's- the shirt!" You blurted eventually.

Kento glanced down at his own shirt, brows furrowing in confusion, "what about the shirt? Is it dirty? buttoned up wrong, perhaps?"

"No! It's perfect, pristine even, as usual. Lovely shade of blue, brings out your eyes and hair really," you rambled on, hoping to escape the awkwardness that would certainly follow if you revealed your actual reasoning.

"And that warranted your gawking...?"

You averted your gaze to the floor, fixating on a suspicious-looking stain on the wooden boards.

"Not... exactly. It's not really the shirt, more so your chest?"

"My chest?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Nanami! Do I have to spell it? Yes, your goddamn titties have been staring me in the face for the past twenty minutes and you expect me not to gawk?"

"I don't have-"

"Yes, you do! You have huge bazookas, weapons of mass destruction, if you will. So buff, your shirt is nearly bursting at the seams, and the buttons are holding on by a flat-out miracle. Those huge fucking melons and I'm the one who has to wear a bra!"

The redness in Nanami's face spread more and more with each word coming out of your mouth, reaching the tips of his ears and rushing down to his chest.

"I apologize for causing such a distraction, I think."

"Are you kidding me?! I've literally been peeping at you when you're just trying to do your job! I'm the one who owes you an apology! It's not your fault your work at the gym has been paying off... or maybe you've just lucked out on the genetics lottery and bought a shirt one size too small and my tiny, stupid bird brain cannot handle the sight," you babbled until you saw Nanami's shoes step into your vision field. You hadn't even realized he had gotten up and around his desk so he could approach.

Your eyes flew up to meet his, avoiding stopping anywhere near his chest.

"I have been working out more often lately," he mentioned casually.

"See!" You waved one hand widely, gesturing to his large pectoral muscles, "and it shows! Beautifully, may I add."

"Thank you. I guess."

"You're welcome! Maybe consider investing in some new shirts in a bigger size," you suggested, immediately wincing at your own boldness.

"I will." Kento declared to appease your nerves and then paused, eyes searching your face, "while on the subject, let me tell you that you do not have a 'stupid bird brain'."

"Only tiny?" You questioned teasingly, glad to see how easily he seemed to be taking your lack of professionalism and using his breech to make the atmosphere lighter.

"No. Not that, either," he smiled and you could've sworn there was a playful glint to his honey colored eyes, "easily distracted, but not tiny. You tend to be very intelligent when it matters."

"That's a really big compliment coming from Mister 7:3 sorcerer."

Nanami chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "It's the truth."

There was a halt in the conversation, which you should have used to steer away from the gauche topic, yet you just had to further embarrass yourself:

"Since we're being honest and putting our cards on the table, can I make a teensy tiny request?" You rushed to give him an out, "feel free to deny it, by the way!"

"Go ahead," Nanami nodded once, curious.

"May I touch them?" Your voice came out meek, almost a whisper, but still loud enough for the blond man to hear.

"You want to... touch-"

"You're right. I'm sorry. That was too much." You cut him off, desperate to save what little dignity you still had (if you even had any).

"I'll admit, your request took me by surprise. Will-" he cleared his throat, "will touching them help you regain your focus?"

"Absolutely!" You nodded vigorously, perking up at the notion that your dream might come true after all.

You jumped up from your seat, restraining yourself from actively bouncing from joy so as to not spook Nanami with your eagerness lest he change his mind.

"So, how do we-"

He had barely started when your hands had already reached for his pecs, one around each mound.

"Holy- How are they soft but firm at the same time?! This is incredible," you giggled before squeezing them twice for good measure.

"Muscle can appear supple unless flexed," Nanami explained matter-of-factly. His pragmatic response was misleading, though. If it wasn't for the deep flush permeating his skin and his sharp intake of air, you would have guessed he was wholly unbothered by the situation.

"Can you-"

You squealed in delight when he flexed before you even finished asking. You took a deep breath, letting your hands fall to your sides and throwing a bright smile his way.

"Did you get your fill?"

"I did," you stepped back, hands tightly clasped together behind you. "Thank you."

"Alright. Now that we've got that out of the way," Kento stopped on his tracks, noting just where your gaze zoned right back in to. "You said you would focus."

"Yeah. That was a complete lie. I don't think my brain will ever function properly again after this experience. It's all I can think about."

You knew Nanami was tired of your antics by then, but you still had quite a bit to say:

"You know what's incredible? That not only do you have these massive jugs, a tiny waist, and a perfectly round and perky tush, but you're also respectable, kind, and generous enough to let a mere peasant such as myself hold them." You paused briefly, shrugging before adding, "I just wanna bury my face in your chest. I feel like that would fix all of my problems."

You did it. Nanami was permanently scarred. That's the only plausible explanation for the face you were seeing. His parted lips, impossibly pink ears, and wide eyes were a novelty to you when compared to his usual stoic and unmoving facade.

"Now it was too much," you concluded.

Kento shook his head, "we have work to do right now, but if you manage to refocus on our business so we can finish this debrief, I promise you can touch to your heart's content."

"For real?"

"Very much so. You can even 'bury your face in my chest' if you want." Nanami's eyes followed the curves of your body down to your feet and back up to your own, his gaze darkening, "as long as I get to touch back, that is."

"Excuse me?" Your jaw dropped, molten heat rushing through your veins.

"Forgive me if I'm being too forward, but you have been showering me with compliments all evening. What if I wanted to return the favor? It's only fair."

Maybe there are some perks to letting go of your filter every once in while...

a/n: look who's back after literal months of unannounced hiatus? Not really, though. I don't know if I'll even submit anything for the other days of Nanami week, but the prompt for day one did give me a burst of inspiration I haven't felt in a long time, so you have this short piece.

[sugurusfavemonkey]

Nanami's weapons of mass destruction™

"my eyes are up here" prompt for nanami week day 1 w/c: 1.8k content: no actual smut but I'm still gonna tag this as nsfw due to suggestive themes and crass language, therefore mdni; crack; tiddies™; reader wears a bra; reader is in a male dominated field with the objectification of our favorite corporate dropout's boobies; nanami art: @/xiaoshy_otp on x; divider: @strangergraphics

You'd never jeopardize your professional relationship by displaying obvious signs of attraction, but, objectively speaking, Nanami Kento was a very handsome man. Even Ino could corroborate your thesis. In fact, Nanami's apprentice is always more than happy to express his admiration for said man in any and all departments.

That being said, nobody could blame you if your eyes kept wandering down throughout his speech every time he so much as breathed in. It's not your fault that his shirt stretched obscenely over his chest, revealing glimpses of deliciously tan skin through buttons that seemed to be fighting for their lives under the strain.

You licked your dry lips, fire burning in the pit of your stomach, your brain conjuring the wildest scenarios, some of which the blue shirt would simply burst open, buttons flying everywhere... Your fingers twitched aimlessly at your side with the strong pull of just reaching out and squeezing his pecs - you had a feeling the sensation would be heavenly, brain chemistry altering, a life-changing experience.

"... have you been listening to a single word of what I just said?" his stern tone brought you out of your daydream, eyes flying up to meet his golden eyes already set on you in a reproving glare worthy of a disappointed parent. You automatically shrank on your seat, shoulders hunching in to appear smaller.

"Hmm?" you went for the innocent look, wide eyes glancing at him from underneath your lashes.

Nanami clenched his jaw before sighing dejectedly, fingers squeezing the bridge of his nose to fight off the incoming migraine of dealing with another undisciplined sorcerer.

"I understand this is a very tedious subject to you, but I need your attention right now. Let's not make this longer than it needs to be, so we can both move on with our lives."

Logically, he stood absolutely correct: it was crucial to absorb all the information Nanami had been spewing at you if you hoped to survive. You truly wanted to be dutiful and actually listen to his debrief… but then he crossed his arms and you were doomed.

Those things were contradicting every single law of physics. How was it even possible for those knockers to stay confined within the fabric when he squeezed them together like that? It shouldn't be possible for a man to have such a large chest.

"Hmhmm," you nodded, completely incapable of listening to a single word but still pretending to the best of your ability.

Not even ten seconds had passed, and the words died on his throat at the realization that he had, once again, lost you. Nanami called your name, exasperation pouring from his every pore. His tone only added fuel to your unholy thoughts. The fact that Nanami not only owned a huge pair of bazookas, but also a deep raspy voice that was the perfect mix of alluring and commanding was unfair for the remainder of the male specimens.

"Yes?" Your response came out mindlessly, gaze still lost in the expanse of his chest.

"My eyes are up here."

That's what it took to get you out of your own head, his words finally seeming to reach some point of your consciousness. Your entire body went rigid, a shiver running down your spine upon the sheer humiliation of being caught ogling your colleague, with whom you were supposed to maintain a respectful relationship.

Your lips parted, but no words came out. For all of the excuses you had conjured in your head before now, all of them seemed to have vanished. Finally, some resemblance of rationality reached your spaced-out brain as you floundered an explanation:

"I k-know! Lovely eyes, by the way. I just- I couldn't really help myself," you bit your lip, trying your best to not let your eyes roam, "it's- the shirt!" You blurted eventually.

Kento glanced down at his own shirt, brows furrowing in confusion, "what about the shirt? Is it dirty? buttoned up wrong, perhaps?"

"No! It's perfect, pristine even, as usual. Lovely shade of blue, brings out your eyes and hair really," you rambled on, hoping to escape the awkwardness that would certainly follow if you revealed your actual reasoning.

"And that warranted your gawking...?"

You averted your gaze to the floor, fixating on a suspicious-looking stain on the wooden boards.

"Not... exactly. It's not really the shirt, more so your chest?"

"My chest?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Nanami! Do I have to spell it? Yes, your goddamn titties have been staring me in the face for the past twenty minutes and you expect me not to gawk?"

"I don't have-"

"Yes, you do! You have huge bazookas, weapons of mass destruction, if you will. So buff, your shirt is nearly bursting at the seams, and the buttons are holding on by a flat-out miracle. Those huge fucking melons and I'm the one who has to wear a bra!"

The redness in Nanami's face spread more and more with each word coming out of your mouth, reaching the tips of his ears and rushing down to his chest.

"I apologize for causing such a distraction, I think."

"Are you kidding me?! I've literally been peeping at you when you're just trying to do your job! I'm the one who owes you an apology! It's not your fault your work at the gym has been paying off... or maybe you've just lucked out on the genetics lottery and bought a shirt one size too small and my tiny, stupid bird brain cannot handle the sight," you babbled until you saw Nanami's shoes step into your vision field. You hadn't even realized he had gotten up and around his desk so he could approach.

Your eyes flew up to meet his, avoiding stopping anywhere near his chest.

"I have been working out more often lately," he mentioned casually.

"See!" You waved one hand widely, gesturing to his large pectoral muscles, "and it shows! Beautifully, may I add."

"Thank you. I guess."

"You're welcome! Maybe consider investing in some new shirts in a bigger size," you suggested, immediately wincing at your own boldness.

"I will." Kento declared to appease your nerves and then paused, eyes searching your face, "while on the subject, let me tell you that you do not have a 'stupid bird brain'."

"Only tiny?" You questioned teasingly, glad to see how easily he seemed to be taking your lack of professionalism and using his breech to make the atmosphere lighter.

"No. Not that, either," he smiled and you could've sworn there was a playful glint to his honey colored eyes, "easily distracted, but not tiny. You tend to be very intelligent when it matters."

"That's a really big compliment coming from Mister 7:3 sorcerer."

Nanami chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "It's the truth."

There was a halt in the conversation, which you should have used to steer away from the gauche topic, yet you just had to further embarrass yourself:

"Since we're being honest and putting our cards on the table, can I make a teensy tiny request?" You rushed to give him an out, "feel free to deny it, by the way!"

"Go ahead," Nanami nodded once, curious.

"May I touch them?" Your voice came out meek, almost a whisper, but still loud enough for the blond man to hear.

"You want to... touch-"

"You're right. I'm sorry. That was too much." You cut him off, desperate to save what little dignity you still had (if you even had any).

"I'll admit, your request took me by surprise. Will-" he cleared his throat, "will touching them help you regain your focus?"

"Absolutely!" You nodded vigorously, perking up at the notion that your dream might come true after all.

You jumped up from your seat, restraining yourself from actively bouncing from joy so as to not spook Nanami with your eagerness lest he change his mind.

"So, how do we-"

He had barely started when your hands had already reached for his pecs, one around each mound.

"Holy- How are they soft but firm at the same time?! This is incredible," you giggled before squeezing them twice for good measure.

"Muscle can appear supple unless flexed," Nanami explained matter-of-factly. His pragmatic response was misleading, though. If it wasn't for the deep flush permeating his skin and his sharp intake of air, you would have guessed he was wholly unbothered by the situation.

"Can you-"

You squealed in delight when he flexed before you even finished asking. You took a deep breath, letting your hands fall to your sides and throwing a bright smile his way.

"Did you get your fill?"

"I did." You stepped back, hands behind your Thank you."

"Alright. Now that we've got that out of the way," Kento stopped on his tracks, noting just where your gaze zoned right back in to. "You said you would focus."

"Yeah. That was a complete lie. I don't think my brain will ever function properly again after this experience. It's all I can think about."

You knew Nanami was tired of your antics by then, but you still had quite a bit to say:

"You know what's incredible? That not only do you have these massive jugs, a tiny waist, and a perfectly round and perky tush, but you're also respectable, kind, and generous enough to let a mere peasant such as myself hold them." You paused briefly, shrugging before adding, "I just wanna bury my face in your chest. I feel like that would fix all of my problems."

You did it. Nanami was permanently scared. That's the only plausible explanation for the face you were seeing. His parted lips, impossibly pink ears, and wide eyes were a novelty to you when compared to his usual stoic and unmoving facade.

"Now it was too much," you concluded.

Kento shook his head, "we have work to do right now, but if you manage to refocus on our business so we can finish this debrief, I promise you can touch to your heart's content."

"For real?"

"Very much so. You can even 'bury your face in my chest' if you want." Nanami's eyes followed the curves of your body down to your feet and back up to your own, his gaze darkening, "as long as I get to touch back, that is."

"Excuse me?" Your jaw dropped, molten heat rushing through your veins.

"Forgive me if I'm being too forward, but you have been showering me with compliments all evening. What if I wanted to return the favor? It's only fair."

Maybe there are some perks to letting go of your filter every once in while...

a/n: look who's back after literal months of unannounced hiatus? Not really, though. I don't know if I'll even submit anything for the other days of Nanami week, but the prompt for day one did give me a burst of inspiration I haven't felt in a long time, so you have this short piece.

[rahuratna]

LMAOOOOOO This. You represented the majority of Nanami fans in this so well. Someone TELL HIM that his giant tiddies are distracting! Please!

I love how Reader is so bold, but more like throwing caution to the wind and going for it. I'm cheering them on!

Me, examining Nanami's chest.

[sugurusfavemonkey]

Would I have said all that had I been face to chest face with Nanamin? Absolutely not. It's exactly what I would have been screaming inside my head? Yup. I'm glad you think I've captured the feeling well lmao

[sugurusfavemonkey]

Nanami's weapons of mass destruction™

"my eyes are up here" prompt for nanami week day 1 w/c: 1.8k content: no actual smut but I'm still gonna tag this as nsfw due to suggestive themes and crass language, therefore mdni; crack; tiddies™; reader wears a bra; reader is in a male dominated field with the objectification of our favorite corporate dropout's boobies; nanami art: @/xiaoshy_otp on x; divider: @strangergraphics

You'd never jeopardize your professional relationship by displaying obvious signs of attraction, but, objectively speaking, Nanami Kento was a very handsome man. Even Ino could corroborate your thesis. In fact, Nanami's apprentice is always more than happy to express his admiration for said man in any and all departments.

That being said, nobody could blame you if your eyes kept wandering down throughout his speech every time he so much as breathed in. It's not your fault that his shirt stretched obscenely over his chest, revealing glimpses of deliciously tan skin through buttons that seemed to be fighting for their lives under the strain.

You licked your dry lips, fire burning in the pit of your stomach, your brain conjuring the wildest scenarios, some of which the blue shirt would simply burst open, buttons flying everywhere... Your fingers twitched aimlessly at your side with the strong pull of just reaching out and squeezing his pecs - you had a feeling the sensation would be heavenly, brain chemistry altering, a life-changing experience.

"... have you been listening to a single word of what I just said?" his stern tone brought you out of your daydream, eyes flying up to meet his golden eyes already set on you in a reproving glare worthy of a disappointed parent. You automatically shrank on your seat, shoulders hunching in to appear smaller.

"Hmm?" you went for the innocent look, wide eyes glancing at him from underneath your lashes.

Nanami clenched his jaw before sighing dejectedly, fingers squeezing the bridge of his nose to fight off the incoming migraine of dealing with another undisciplined sorcerer.

"I understand this is a very tedious subject to you, but I need your attention right now. Let's not make this longer than it needs to be, so we can both move on with our lives."

Logically, he stood absolutely correct: it was crucial to absorb all the information Nanami had been spewing at you if you hoped to survive. You truly wanted to be dutiful and actually listen to his debrief… but then he crossed his arms and you were doomed.

Those things were contradicting every single law of physics. How was it even possible for those knockers to stay confined within the fabric when he squeezed them together like that? It shouldn't be possible for a man to have such a large chest.

"Hmhmm," you nodded, completely incapable of listening to a single word but still pretending to the best of your ability.

Not even ten seconds had passed, and the words died on his throat at the realization that he had, once again, lost you. Nanami called your name, exasperation pouring from his every pore. His tone only added fuel to your unholy thoughts. The fact that Nanami not only owned a huge pair of bazookas, but also a deep raspy voice that was the perfect mix of alluring and commanding was unfair for the remainder of the male specimens.

"Yes?" Your response came out mindlessly, gaze still lost in the expanse of his chest.

"My eyes are up here."

That's what it took to get you out of your own head, his words finally seeming to reach some point of your consciousness. Your entire body went rigid, a shiver running down your spine upon the sheer humiliation of being caught ogling your colleague, with whom you were supposed to maintain a respectful relationship.

Your lips parted, but no words came out. For all of the excuses you had conjured in your head before now, all of them seemed to have vanished. Finally, some resemblance of rationality reached your spaced-out brain as you floundered an explanation:

"I k-know! Lovely eyes, by the way. I just- I couldn't really help myself," you bit your lip, trying your best to not let your eyes roam, "it's- the shirt!" You blurted eventually.

Kento glanced down at his own shirt, brows furrowing in confusion, "what about the shirt? Is it dirty? buttoned up wrong, perhaps?"

"No! It's perfect, pristine even, as usual. Lovely shade of blue, brings out your eyes and hair really," you rambled on, hoping to escape the awkwardness that would certainly follow if you revealed your actual reasoning.

"And that warranted your gawking...?"

You averted your gaze to the floor, fixating on a suspicious-looking stain on the wooden boards.

"Not... exactly. It's not really the shirt, more so your chest?"

"My chest?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Nanami! Do I have to spell it? Yes, your goddamn titties have been staring me in the face for the past twenty minutes and you expect me not to gawk?"

"I don't have-"

"Yes, you do! You have huge bazookas, weapons of mass destruction, if you will. So buff, your shirt is nearly bursting at the seams, and the buttons are holding on by a flat-out miracle. Those huge fucking melons and I'm the one who has to wear a bra!"

The redness in Nanami's face spread more and more with each word coming out of your mouth, reaching the tips of his ears and rushing down to his chest.

"I apologize for causing such a distraction, I think."

"Are you kidding me?! I've literally been peeping at you when you're just trying to do your job! I'm the one who owes you an apology! It's not your fault your work at the gym has been paying off... or maybe you've just lucked out on the genetics lottery and bought a shirt one size too small and my tiny, stupid bird brain cannot handle the sight," you babbled until you saw Nanami's shoes step into your vision field. You hadn't even realized he had gotten up and around his desk so he could approach.

Your eyes flew up to meet his, avoiding stopping anywhere near his chest.

"I have been working out more often lately," he mentioned casually.

"See!" You waved one hand widely, gesturing to his large pectoral muscles, "and it shows! Beautifully, may I add."

"Thank you. I guess."

"You're welcome! Maybe consider investing in some new shirts in a bigger size," you suggested, immediately wincing at your own boldness.

"I will." Kento declared to appease your nerves and then paused, eyes searching your face, "while on the subject, let me tell you that you do not have a 'stupid bird brain'."

"Only tiny?" You questioned teasingly, glad to see how easily he seemed to be taking your lack of professionalism and using his breech to make the atmosphere lighter.

"No. Not that, either," he smiled and you could've sworn there was a playful glint to his honey colored eyes, "easily distracted, but not tiny. You tend to be very intelligent when it matters."

"That's a really big compliment coming from Mister 7:3 sorcerer."

Nanami chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "It's the truth."

There was a halt in the conversation, which you should have used to steer away from the gauche topic, yet you just had to further embarrass yourself:

"Since we're being honest and putting our cards on the table, can I make a teensy tiny request?" You rushed to give him an out, "feel free to deny it, by the way!"

"Go ahead," Nanami nodded once, curious.

"May I touch them?" Your voice came out meek, almost a whisper, but still loud enough for the blond man to hear.

"You want to... touch-"

"You're right. I'm sorry. That was too much." You cut him off, desperate to save what little dignity you still had (if you even had any).

"I'll admit, your request took me by surprise. Will-" he cleared his throat, "will touching them help you regain your focus?"

"Absolutely!" You nodded vigorously, perking up at the notion that your dream might come true after all.

You jumped up from your seat, restraining yourself from actively bouncing from joy so as to not spook Nanami with your eagerness lest he change his mind.

"So, how do we-"

He had barely started when your hands had already reached for his pecs, one around each mound.

"Holy- How are they soft but firm at the same time?! This is incredible," you giggled before squeezing them twice for good measure.

"Muscle can appear supple unless flexed," Nanami explained matter-of-factly. His pragmatic response was misleading, though. If it wasn't for the deep flush permeating his skin and his sharp intake of air, you would have guessed he was wholly unbothered by the situation.

"Can you-"

You squealed in delight when he flexed before you even finished asking. You took a deep breath, letting your hands fall to your sides and throwing a bright smile his way.

"Did you get your fill?"

"I did," you stepped back, hands tightly clasped together behind you. "Thank you."

"Alright. Now that we've got that out of the way," Kento stopped on his tracks, noting just where your gaze zoned right back in to. "You said you would focus."

"Yeah. That was a complete lie. I don't think my brain will ever function properly again after this experience. It's all I can think about."

You knew Nanami was tired of your antics by then, but you still had quite a bit to say:

"You know what's incredible? That not only do you have these massive jugs, a tiny waist, and a perfectly round and perky tush, but you're also respectable, kind, and generous enough to let a mere peasant such as myself hold them." You paused briefly, shrugging before adding, "I just wanna bury my face in your chest. I feel like that would fix all of my problems."

You did it. Nanami was permanently scarred. That's the only plausible explanation for the face you were seeing. His parted lips, impossibly pink ears, and wide eyes were a novelty to you when compared to his usual stoic and unmoving facade.

"Now it was too much," you concluded.

Kento shook his head, "we have work to do right now, but if you manage to refocus on our business so we can finish this debrief, I promise you can touch to your heart's content."

"For real?"

"Very much so. You can even 'bury your face in my chest' if you want." Nanami's eyes followed the curves of your body down to your feet and back up to your own, his gaze darkening, "as long as I get to touch back, that is."

"Excuse me?" Your jaw dropped, molten heat rushing through your veins.

"Forgive me if I'm being too forward, but you have been showering me with compliments all evening. What if I wanted to return the favor? It's only fair."

Maybe there are some perks to letting go of your filter every once in while...

a/n: look who's back after literal months of unannounced hiatus? Not really, though. I don't know if I'll even submit anything for the other days of Nanami week, but the prompt for day one did give me a burst of inspiration I haven't felt in a long time, so you have this short piece.

[3-aem]

gojo satoru

[torntvs-deactivated20250226]

❛ LUST FOR LIFE— キスと口紅 HIGURUMA HIROMI

artwork by saksak_kazz

summary : hiromi loves it when you kiss him and leave lipstick stains over his face and all over him.

warning : teasing, lipstick marks, love sick grins and very much in love hiromi.

ayen's talk : very much inspired by the art work by @joleadied , hiromi deserves to be spoiled by kisses ughhh.

Hiromi let out a deep sigh, eyes fluttering at the sensation of your lips leaving a very prominent maroon mark over his face. This had been going on for about a few minutes now— you straddling his lap and printing your lips all over the tired overworked lawyer's face.

Did he mind? Absolutely no.

A relaxed hum left him, as he stared up with his droopy eyes— albeit lovesick. A chuckled as his hands wrapped around your waist in a slow motion, face tilting just a little and exposing his neck. "Mark me up sweetheart."

That sent a shudder throughout your body— a satisfied hum leaving your lips, a smile of glee adorning your face as hovering your lips over his eyelids. "My tired— pretty man." A soft murmur against his skin, breath mingling and you once again pressing your lips firmly over his skin— the maroon saint sitting upon his sweet skin oh so deliciously.

A love-drunk giggle pushes past your lips, swearing under your breath that he looked so breath taking. A furrow rested on his face, finger dragging through the underside of your wrist and tenderly pulling away the lipstick from your fingers. Hands firmly holding you— as he maintained the eye contact.

"Do you plan to kiss me all over?" He murmured, lips nuzzling against your stomach as he softly applied the maroon stick over your lips— fixing away the fade. "Go on—" he muttered, fingers smudging your lips and pushing past them, "Make a mess out of me baby."

And you did, drunken smile that adorned your stupid face as you pressed your lips firmly over his cheeks, trailing his jaw to his lips and down his chin to his neck— back on his forehead and nose, teasingly unbuttoning his shirt as you fixed your lipstick and Hiromi shuddered under your touch.

You surely were going to be the cause of his death, so breathtaking and teasing.

© torntvs 2O25 — copyright

[feenwege]

ur rides here

[toadtoru-deactivated20260517]

with toji you know it’s not his first kiss. he’s experienced, he’s probably kissed so many people before you. it’s all that is swirling in your head as you climb into his lap where he motioned for you to go just seconds ago, staring at him wide-eyed with your heart feeling like it’s gonna explode out of your chest.

once you’re situated, straddling his thighs, your knees digging into the couch beneath you, your arms around his neck, he places his big hands on your hips, thumbs rubbing comforting circles into your skin.

“you nervous?” he asks and your eyes dart, as you feel your face heat up.

“yes,” you reply and toji rasps out a chuckle, deep and fond, all adoration and sparkle.

“me too,” he replies and your heart stutters slightly as he grabs your chin and presses your lips together for a short while. your eyes flutter closed and you’re simply dazed when he pulls away, blinking at him like an owl.

“nothing to be scared of, baby, it’s just me,”

then he kisses you again. and again, and again, and again. short, chaste kisses to your lips, barely letting you feel the scar you like so much. and then he kisses your cheek, and your nose, and your chin, and your forehead until you whine, tugging on his shirt in an attempt to get closer.

“don’t tease me,” you huff, aiming at his lips, but he easily dodges, making you kiss his jaw instead. and you scoff, grabbing his face with your hands, cupping his cheeks and pressing your lips together.

this time he deepens the kiss, moving his lips against yours, and you follow along clumsily, trying your best to keep up.

“my pretty baby,” he murmurs against your lips, swallowing your little gasps and sighs.

you feel hot. toji is warm and big and by now rugged hands have gone from playing with the hem of your shirt to pressing against your bare skin, trailing up your back, holding you closer as if that’s somehow possible.

and when you pull away, trying to catch your breath, he follows for a second, before you giggle, your hands threading through his hair and tugging him away.

toji smiles. his lips are kiss-bitten and you bet yours are too. it’s hard to tell how much time has passed, and you feel shy all of a sudden, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, pressing little kisses there.

comforting hands rub your back.

“still nervous?”

“no, i’m okay. thank you.”

[akuratsuna-00]

Leaving this here. Unfinished sketch page coz I'm working on a comms nd will come back with better one ✨

[yenayaps]

look at that tight ass I wanna pinch it so bad 💔

[satorurize]

Just some Gojo headcanons based on this post on @discogirlsclub page, and cause I miss him </3

part 2.

Gojo Satoru is the living, breathing example of fuck boy appearance with a loverboy personality.

Loverboy!Satoru tells you about how he gets around with his ever cocky smirk but feels his knees buck everytime you look into his eyes with a little more love in them

Loverboy!Satoru who swears he's not corny but then sneakily comes behind your back to cover your eyes and ask "guess who?"

Loverboy!Satoru who loses his "I don't give a fuck" attitude the minute you're not giving him the attention he wants and he's groveling and having his hand onto your waist all. the. time.

Loverboy!Satoru who stands by how good he's at flirting but yaps your ears off like a loser in front of you, all his skills in casual flirting going down the drain.

Loverboy!Satoru who gets pouty and dramatic like an idiot after you don't respond to his texts immediately, already yearning. (very unfortunate for the curses though who'll be the victims of his glum, dampened mood.)

Loverboy!Satoru who is the grossest, nastiest, freakiest person when he's in love but a literal pile of mush at the same time.

Loverboy!Satoru who sends a video of himself cumming at your service, as soon as you ask for it and he fists his cock while your name leaves his lips like a writ in a string of whimpers.

Loverboy!Satoru who'll eat your pussy until you're pushing him away with his cloudy white locks fisted in your hand, teary eyed and quivering thighs and he'll just look at you with a stupid pussy drunk grin on his face and pull away with a soft kiss on your clit and with a husky, "You're so sweet baby.."

Loverboy!Satoru who gives you the best aftercare, from gathering your hair up gently and putting them in a claw clip to picking you up princess style to settle you in the tub, pulling you against his chest as the warmth of the bath surrounds you both

Loverboy!Satoruwho settles on being the little spoon after the bath or buries his face into your tits after being the strongest all day.

No thoughts..just Loverboy Gojo Satoru..

[chu-cho]

hi again

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃'𝐒 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄! ❞

❝ A PUNK ROCK DRUMMER AND HE'S SIX-FOOT-THREE !! ❞

✧ pairing: older brother! choso kamo x best friend! reader

✧ summary: you've been asked whether you and yuji are together a million times - but the truth is his brother is more your type -- so what happens when you end up sharing a bed one night?

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, reader is two years younger than choso (same age as yuji), (all in their 20s but age is vague), bed sharing, switch! choso, soft dom! choso, sub! choso, oral (m), handjob (m), dry humping, fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, implied itafushi, implied bi king yuji, a little angst with choso, but a lot of comfort, cuddling, nobara hijinks, art by @/yume041624

✧ wc: 5,597

✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 2 has been sold to one anon!

Yuji Itadori was not your boyfriend. 

It was a sentence you had to say probably as many times as Yuji had to tell people you weren’t his girlfriend. It was the first thing people asked when they saw the two of you together, or some iteration of “you two are soooo cute together,” “you’re the perfect couple,” or your favorite, “when’s the wedding?” 

The last one you liked to answer with when hell froze over. 

And it wasn’t because Yuji wasn’t attractive — he was. He was cute, athletic, loyal to a fault, somewhat intelligent when he put his two brain cells together, and had a really nice smile. But you said that with all of the platonic energy in the universe — because if anyone asked you to kiss Yuji (year seven, a dare that went horribly wrong, and ended with you shoving Yuji into someone’s lap) — you would probably laugh or puke. 

Whichever naturally came first (or possibly both). 

But the good thing was Yuji felt the exact same way — he saw you as a sister, someone he respected, loved, but never romantically — you knew that by the way he barely had reacted when he had barged into your bathroom when you were getting dressed from your shower still, and just promptly just shut the door with a shouted, “sorry!” 

You glance to your right, at Yuji who was playing a video game beside you on the couch — No, your type was not the golden retriever, stare into your eyes longingly, and bring that boy home to your parents — no, your eyes slid over to your left, your type was…his older brother. 

Jet black locks that hung to his shoulders, inked tattoos peeking out from beneath his black t-shirt, bags under his eyes as dark as his gaze itself, and his perfect lips were curled in a small smirk — at you.

Choso Kamo was absolutely your type — except for the fact he was your best friend’s older brother. That little problem still niggled into the forefront of your mind, even as you saw him lick his lips out of the corner of your eye, the rounded metal piercing on his tongue glinting in the fluorescent lights of the basement. Your eyes drew back to the TV screen where Yuji was badly losing a fighting game online, toying with your phone in your hands. 

“Yo bro, are you headed back to school tonight?” Choso went to a college couple hours away — his break nearly over now — while you and Yuji went to a nearby university, two years behind Choso. 

“Yeah, I’m going to make the drive tonight, probably get there before midnight or just after,” he sighs, raking his painted fingernails through his hair, “when do you two head back?” 

“Next week,” you replied, watching Yuji fall into sudden death in his match, “Yuji promised to help me move this time, and not blow me off to help his boyfriend move this time,” 

“Fushiguro isn’t my boyfriend,” he snaps, and the other player takes him out, Yuji glares at you, knuckles white against the controller, “look what you did,” he grumbles, tossing the controller onto the table, clattering against the wooden surface. 

“Careful, you break another controller, and your dad will kill you,” you smirk, “if you weren’t so sensitive about Fushiguro, you wouldn’t have lost!” 

His cheeks are stained an incriminating red, as he gets up and stalks off, muttering something about getting a soda from upstairs, and he’s gone in a flash, as you chuckle, far too pleased with your work — a little more prodding, and maybe you’d win that bet with Nobara about Yuji and Megumi getting together on the first day back. 

“So, is that Fushiguro kid good enough for him?” Choso’s voice snaps you from your thoughts, as Choso raises an eyebrow, a smile pulling at his lips. 

“Who’s really good enough for Yuji?” But you add, “but Fushiguro’s a good guy. He’d be a good match for Yuji,” 

“And what about you?” 

You tilt your head, your heart stutters in your chest, “What about me?” 

“Who’d be a good match for you?” And you bite your bottom lip — you can’t be honest can you? How could you? Yuji had no idea how you felt and if he did, he may be horrified at the thought of you dating his older brother. But what if he wasn’t? And what if — your eyes meeting his own — you didn’t care? 

But you don’t get to reply as Yuji comes bounding back down the stairs, bad mood already dissipated in the short few minutes he was gone, as he tosses you your favorite drink and does the same with his brother, “what I’d miss?” 

You rolled around in bed, tossing from side to side — until you sighed again, resting on your stomach. You were so stupid. You had all day with Choso, all day to say something — to steer the conversation back to what you were talking about before. But no, you couldn’t. The three of you had dinner together, and you watched Choso leave, bags in hand, as you did the last two years. 

He and Yuji clap hands together, as he ruffles his little brother’s hair as always, “Don’t do anything stupid okay? Visit your dad as much as you can. And let me know if you want to visit,” and his eyes find yours, “the both of you,” 

And his palm comes to ruffle your hair as usual, leaning far too close for your heart’s sake, 

“Be good ok?” And god, you have to force yourself not to shiver, as you nod, “Yuji, let her sleep in my room. She shouldn’t be forced to sleep on your couch again.”

“I always tell her to take my bed but she always says no—“ 

“That’s because your mattress sucks—“ 

“Well mine doesn’t,” Choso cuts in, and fuck, why does that make you press your thighs together discreetly, “So just sleep in there, ok?” 

And now that’s where you find yourself, in Choso’s bed, in the room that Yuji’s dad had set up for him to use — it was relatively neat, a guitar left in the corner that he often used when he was here to practice — the one he had been sleeping in for the last month, the bedroom you’d pass each night and wish you had the courage to knock on his door, let the door swing open as you leaned close to him, fingers resting on his shoulder, breath warming your lips before you finally—

This wasn’t helping, you groaned into his pillow, and neither was the fact that this entire bed smelled like him — like musk and spice and something that’s so distinctly him. So distinctly him that you can’t ignore the ache between your legs, as your traitorous mind summoned images of him lying shirtless in bed — you knew from how his t-shirt would ride up that his body was far more toned than he looked and from when his chest pressed against your back when he reached for a plate from the table. 

Fuck. You buried your face into the pillow again, you would be lucky to sleep an hour, much less a full night. But finally, you do drift off into Hypnos’s realm, however brief it is. 

Until you’re awoken by rustling, you turn on the bed, consciousness stirring, as you hear the sounds of shifting again and your eyes blink open only to see a shirtless Choso standing in front of you. 

You nearly pinch yourself to ensure your sinful thoughts before bed hadn’t betrayed you (and you do discreetly, as you stare at each other), “Choso?” You ask, voice thick with sleep, despite your body being far too awake for its own good, as your eyes finally dart away from the expansive view that is his bare chest, “what are you—“ 

“The roads got bad while I was driving back, it’s raining really hard — I got drenched even just heading from the car to the house,” he pulls on a shirt, “sorry I just came to grab a shirt—“ 

“Do you wanna sleep in your bed?” You move to get up, but he shakes his head, his hand finding your head again, as he ruffles your hair, “I can sleep in Yuji’s room — it’s fine,” 

His lips quirk, “No, it’s okay — I’ll take the couch in his room, it’s not a problem,” 

There was a problem — Yuji had locked his door before bed — the idiot. And once he was asleep, he slept like the dead — and the only way to wake him was the scream your throat raw, or a necromancy blood  ritual — whichever was simpler. 

“You can take your bed, I can sleep on the floor,” you chew your lip as you watch him set up a sheet and blanket on the floor of his room, “Choso—“ 

“I’m not going to have you sleep on the floor,” he raises an eyebrow, as he lays back, “just go back to bed, I’m sorry I woke you,” 

You shake your head, “you’re fine,” and you glance at the bed — there was enough space for both of you, wasn’t there? “we could share the bed—“

“No,” 

“It would be fine—“ and he seems unconvinced, his dark eyes finding yours again, cutting off your train of thought, “what?” 

“Do you always insist on sharing a bed with a guy?” And your cheeks burn, eyes unable to meet his as you glance at your phone, “you should be more careful,” 

“I trust you, and Yuji,” you add, chewing your bottom lip — you were veering into dangerous territory,  “I wouldn’t do this with anyone else,” 

“Really?” 

“Really,” and he reaches up, you think to ruffle your hair again, but instead his fingers brush his cheek, long fingers trailing the length of your cheekbone, “Choso—“ 

“Go to sleep, we can talk in the morning,” and his fingers fall away as quickly as they come, as he turns away, his black locks fanned out on his pillow, “good night,” 

“Night,” you murmur, as your eyes rest on his back — how was he so close yet so far? You barely remember a time he wasn’t there — he had found Yuji when he was in middle school — right after his grandfather had passed away. You were by Yuji’s side, holding his hand, when Choso tapped on his brother’s shoulder. And it wasn’t love at first sight — you were overprotective of Yuji, but Choso took his time to gain your trust with actions — until he had gained a lot more than just your trust — he had gained your heart along with it. 

And even now, those adolescent feelings still lingered, and he remained just barely out of reach. Close enough to touch, but not enough to breach. 

You close your eyes finally, maybe it wasn’t meant to be. 

You barely drift off when you hear the sounds of soft cries and even a whimper — your mind is pulled from the arms of sleep into reality, eyes fluttering open to only find the darkness of night, the barest glimmer of moonlight let in by the cracks of the curtains, and you see him. 

Choso. His teeth dug into his bottom lip, fingers clutching at his blanket — his knuckles nearly white, his brow formed valleys seemingly as deep as his fear. His breath left his lips in short pants, and you’re climbing off the bed before you can think. 

Yuji had told you Choso hadn’t had the best upbringing. You didn’t know much, but you had known Choso had grown up taking care of his other siblings, left to be a father instead of an older brother. And his father…had abused all of them when he had bothered to be around — Choso taking the worst of it. 

You’re at side, but you don’t know what to do — your fingers shake as you reach to touch him, but you don’t know if that will only scare him more, “Choso, you’re safe,” you said softly, “I’m going to touch you okay? You’re safe, you’re okay — come here, I’ll keep you safe,” and your fingers graze lightly against his brow, smoothing it’s ceases before running your fingers through his hair, “no one can hurt you,” and your other hand eases his fingers from his blanket, intertwining your fingers, “you’re okay,” 

And his body slowly grows more limp, the tension ebbing away with each second, as his breathing slowed, your name leaving his lips, “I-I’m sorry,” you shush him gently, “I—“

“Come onto the bed,” you murmur, and he’s shaking his head, “Choso, it’s okay, it’ll be fine.” 

His eyes slowly flutter open, but instead of fear, you only find sadness, “But what if…I hurt you somehow?” His voice is soft, and you almost chuckle at the thought of him hurting you. 

“You could never hurt me, I know you, Choso,” you tug him by his hand lightly, “come on, please?” 

You get onto the bed first, and he slowly follows, the bed dipping with his weight beside you. Your heart squeezes at the warmth of his body being so close, your fingers hesitantly reaching for him, and his arm slowly wraps around your middle, giving you enough time and space for you to move away (you don’t),  “Thank you,” he murmurs, and your lips curl in a soft smile. 

“Of course,” you say, and you inch even closer, as his breaths slow and warm your skin, and your eyes finally flutter shut too. And as you slip back into sleep — you wonder if you’ll truly wake to only realize this was a dream. 

Choso had watched you and Yuji grow up — well, he was still growing up too — it felt as if he had aged so much faster the way he grew up. When he found out about Yuji from his deadbeat father, Choso went looking for him — only to find him with a death announcement — Yuji’s grandfather’s. Choso knew what it was like to lose family — the wounds never would heal, it was a poison that seeped into every crevice of your body, and hung on your bones like weights. But even so, Choso didn’t know Yuji — and he didn’t know how he’d react to a random person showing up to his grandfather’s funeral. 

But he did anyway — and he was so glad he did, because he not only found his brother, but he found you too. 

You — Yuji’s best friend, and who he thought his little brother would eventually date, even despite his protests that the two of you were just friends. You, who had encouraged Yuji to spend time with him, while guarding him as you did, eyes sharp and evaluating around his presence. But that eased with time — and with time, you both had grown up. 

You had grown up to be even more beautiful than he thought was possible. And it wasn’t just your appearance — that had shedded the second skin of insecurity and awkwardness that came with adolescence — but it was everything. Even more than before, you radiate warmth, the same kind of warmth his brother did, but instead of a blinding sun, you were soft light that enveloped those you wished to.  

And this past month had been an exercise of self control if not torture. Seeing you in the mornings, hair askew as you emerged before Yuji did, a soft smile that he only could hope was reserved for him. Voice thick with sleep as you told him ‘good morning,’ and it was — every time he got to wake to the sight of you. 

This morning was no exception, but only cemented that fact.  

Although, now that he was waking up beside you, maybe he was wrong, maybe you were blinding — because you blinded from seeing every ounce of logic he thought he had. Your face was buried in the crook of his neck, your soft breaths tickling his skin, as his fingers tucked a few stray strands of hair behind your ear. 

How were you so beautiful? The back of his finger traced the slope of your jaw, no one should be allowed to be this ethereal — especially while they slept. Your feet stuck out of the blanket, and he fixed it, making sure you were warm enough, but he only succeeded in making you stir. 

He froze as you only nuzzled into him further, your fingers grasping at the front of his shirt, while your legs further entangled with his, your waist, pressed right against his and…a particular problem presented itself. 

Fuck. 

He needed to leave the bed, but how would he without waking you? He carefully slipped his arm away from you, trying his best to detangle your legs from his own. But only for your eyes to flutter open anyway — his breath catching as your half asleep gaze meets his, your lips curling into a soft smile. 

“Morning,” you murmur, voice still thick with sleep, and god, he hopes you can’t hear or feel how his heart skips a beat at the sound of your voice. You don’t seem the slightest bit concerned at the proximity, your eyes opening and shutting still, “are you okay?” 

“I am, thanks to you,” he murmurs, his cheeks warming at the sight of your sleepy smile, as you rubbed your eyes, “did you sleep okay?” 

“I did, I think I slept the best I had in weeks,” you admit, as you blink away sleep, and really look at him — only to find him staring, “what?” 

“You’re just…really beautiful,” and he delights in your eyes darting away from his shyly, and his fingers brush against your chin, guiding your gaze back to his, “you really have no idea what you do to me, do you?” 

And he feels your breath catch — and he wonders if he’s crossed a line, if he should back off, if he had rung a bell that should have never been touched — but your fingers curl around his, lips parted, “Then why don’t you show me?” 

He swallows thickly, as he draws closer, thumb rubbing the length of your cheek, and you let him — putty in his hands, “Can I kiss you?” And you nod wordlessly, and he doesn’t wait any longer, his lips brush yours. 

It’s chaste, barely a kiss at all, lips parting far too soon, but he can’t help but hesitate, he wants this to be right, he never would want to hurt you — never wanted to even approach that line, much less toe it. But by the way your fingers threaded in his long locks, finding purchase on the back of his neck to only kiss him — he figures he’s fine. 

But fuck, you’re more than just fine. You’re everything, everything to him. 

Your lips glide against his so utterly softly, his tongue dragging against the seam of your lips, and you part them for him with ease. He swallows your moan eagerly as he tastes you, as your fingers tug at his shirt, urging him on top, as you roll onto your back for him. 

“But—we shouldn’t—” he bites his lip, “Yuji—” 

“Who the fuck cares about Yuji right now?” and you’re climbing on top of him this time, your clothed cunt dragging teasingly over his morning wood, as a gasp escaped his lips, “you’re a lot more honest down south, Choso,” you tug your shirt over your head, tossing it onto the floor, his eyes widen, raking over your exposed skin, gasping when you lightly grind down on his already tenting erection, “Yuji doesn’t need to know, as long as we’re quiet,” and you lean down to kiss him. 

All sense leaves his mind — right as your lips find his again, and your hands slip under his shirt, the sounds of your kisses ring in his ear, your lips quirking up when your teeth graze against his bottom lip and he groans. 

Your fingers pull at the hem of his shirt, and he leans up, helping you toss it onto the ground to join your shirt, “I thought you liked Yuji,” he murmurs, “I never thought you would—“ 

“Yuji is my friend — my best friend. The only thing we’ve ever come close to sharing is a kiss when we were kids because of a dare, and even then, I had pushed him away,” and you smile that same way that had stolen his breath time and time again, “but I’d never dream of pushing you away, Cho—“ 

And he’s flipped you under him, your back pressed against the mattress, your breath caught in your throat, as his lidded gaze finds yours, “Even if I make you scream?” His fingers trace down your cheek, the length of your jaw, across your collarbone and down the valley of your breasts, “you won’t mind letting Yuji hear you then? Hear how good I make you feel?” He murmurs, and you whimper as his fingertips breach the edge of your bra, teasing the perked peaks underneath, “won’t push me away when I push into you?” 

“Choso,” you gasp, as his fingers roll your nipples between his fingers, “fuck—“ 

“You have such a filthy mouth for someone so innocent,” he murmurs, voice gliding over your body like velvet, “have to put your mouth to good use, won’t I, baby?” And his fingers glide down your stomach now, teasing the waistband of your shorts, “you like it when I talk like this? I wonder how much,” he hums, his eyes finding yours, looking for confirmation as his fingers drag down gen elastic of your shorts, and sees the wet patch of your slick, “been waiting for this as much as I’ve been, baby?” 

“Yes, please,” you whine, and he’s teasing your hardened clit through the wet fabric, “been waiting so long, Cho, please—“ 

“You were so bold before,” and his lithe fingers are tugging your underwear aside as his fingers circle the outside of your cunt, “does it only take a few touches to have you so pliant under me?” 

You pout, and it’s so unfair how adorable you look — god, it was always so unfair how cute you looked — “Please, don’t tease me,” 

“How can I not when I waited for this for so long?” he kisses the length of your collarbone, sending a shiver down your body, his knees pressing your thighs apart, as his thumb presses teasingly against your clit, “tell me, how long have you waited?” 

“Choso—” you whine, but it falls on deaf ears, even as your hips try to grind against his touch, he’s pressing your hips back down, “I-I don’t know,” but he knows from the way from your forearm covers your face out of embarrassment that you do. 

“I know you do, sweetheart,” and he’s easing your arm from your face, thumb dragging down your kiss bitten lips, “don’t hide from me,” he murmurs, “you’re too pretty to hide,” 

“Please, just touch—“ and a gasp parts your lips again, back of your head pressing into the pillow as a single digit works it’s way inside your fluttering walls, the wet squelch of your walls against his finger nearly enough to make him cum in his boxers there and then, “Cho, so good,” and god, he’s reaching a hand into his boxers to palm at his aching erection. 

“So fucking wet f’me, baby, just for me, right?” and you’re nodding wordlessly, his finger was so much longer and thicker than your own, “can’t wait to sink inside you, baby,” and he’s adding another finger, slowly working you open, toying and teasing you until the moans he’d dreamed of spill from your lips again and again. His palm grasps desperately at his weeping erection, imagining your smaller fingers around his cock, 

“Choso, s’close, can’t—” a soft groan leaves your lips. 

“Cum around my fingers, pretty, fall apart for me,” he grunts, and his thumb bares down on your clit, and you’re tipping over the edge, as your mouth falls open, back arching as you cum hard, pleasure ripping up your body, as he finger fucks you through your orgasm. Your eyes flutter open slowly, as he pulls his fingers from you slowly, your slick clinging to his fingers. You watch him as he presses his fingers into his mouth, sucking his fingers clean of your cum, “best thing I’ve ever tasted, baby,” and he’s leaning to press a kiss to your lips, swallowing your moans with ease, as he lets you taste yourself on his tongue. 

And you’re rolling him over onto his back, as his dark gaze finds yours, as you kiss your way down his body, until you settle between his thighs, “My turn to taste you,” you look up with half lidded eyes and curled lips — and his cock twitches even before you even lay a finger on him.  Your fingers tug down at the elastic of his waistband of his shorts and pull them down with ease, eyes glazing over as you stared at his bulge, tip weeping against his boxers, a large wet patch that your fingers brushed against. 

“I wasn’t the only one who was eager, Choso,” your fingers graze his tip, teasing his slit  through the damp fabric, drawing a hiss from his lips, “such a pretty noise,” you press your thighs together, “wonder what other noises I can pull from these lips,” 

“Pretty, fuck—“ he grunts as you tug his boxers down finally, his cock slapping against his stomach, as your eyes seemingly dilate at the sight of him. 

“You’re the pretty one, pretty boy,” his cock was lovely flushed red, pearly bead of pre-cum dripping from his slit — and god, he’s really sensitive, keening as your fingers wrap lightly around his tip, smearing his pre down his length, “now, who’s gonna be the one to wake Yuji? Gonna let your brother how good it feels have his best friend touch you?” And his cock twitches at the thought, and you don’t miss it, as your fingers begin to slide down to his base, “oh, you want him to hear us? Want him to hear me suck you off too?” And your lips press a chaste kiss to his tip, his hips jerking, as the tip of your tongue traced his weeping slit. 

A whine leaves his throat, as your mouth envelops him now, fingers touching what your mouth couldn’t take, your tongue running along his veins. 

God, you’re a fucking vision, he nearly blows his load in your mouth as his eyes flutter open to watch you — head bobbing and sucking at his cock, a mix of his precum and your spit dribbling out of the corner of your mouth. His fingers thread in your hair, as he resists the urge to fuck your mouth. 

And he’s easing you off, your lips removed with a pop, a string of your saliva and his pre connecting you to his aching erection. 

“Such a good girl,” he’s pressing his thumb on your tongue, letting you swallow his precum, “fuck, baby, please, I need you,” 

And he’s got you under him again, your legs folded and pressed against your chest, long fingers pressing into his soft flesh,  “Choso, fuck me, I need—“ your words cut off as you moan as he drags his cock against your fluttering cunt, your thighs quiver and shake from anticipation, “ngh— ah, stop teasing me,” 

“You’ve been teasing me for so long, baby, can I have two minutes?” His tip sinks into you, far too fucking slow, “wanna make this last, been dreaming about this for too long, wanna make you feel good—” now that he’s had a taste, he can’t go a moment without it, your skin the sweetest thing he ever had — he’s no better than a desert wanderer gulping water down for the first time — because now he can’t help but want you swallow you whole.  

You whimper, and he can’t hold back anymore at the sight of large tears pooling in your eyes, and he’s sinking into you, inch by inch — and god, your warmth is so much fucking better than he could have ever imagined. And he had, with guilt gnawing at him, as his fingers jerked his pulsing cock off, imagining that it was your pretty pussy he was cumming in, instead of his fist. 

You swallow him whole instead, your needy cunt pulling him deeper and deeper, until he finally bottoms out. “Princess cunt gonna make me cum before I even fuck you, baby,” he’s groaning, and your walls flutter around him, tugging him in even before he tries to pull out. 

“S’big, Choso — I’m so full, baby,” you’re moaning, fingers trying to find purchase on something, anything, but even so your legs are parting more for him, as he slowly starts to fuck you. 

The smacks of your skin meeting his echoes in his ears again and again, your hips rising to meet his thrusts, and he’s so fucking deep — you swear you can feel him in your stomach, tip surely brushing against your cervix. 

His grunts only make you wetter, as he pistons his hips desperately, murmuring sweet words in your ear about how perfect you were, how good you were taking him, and how he couldn’t wait to fill you up. 

Your eyes squeeze shut as large tears slip down your cheeks, that he thumbs away, finding your lips in a sloppy, messy kiss as he splits you open, “Cho, fuck, please I’m s’close,” 

“Cum for me, baby, cum all over my cock,” and his fingers are reaching down, rubbing circles over your clit just as his cock finds that spot that has your back arching and pleasure running up your spine. And you’re gone, squirting all over him, unable to even be embarrassed as he fucks you through your orgasm, his low groan at the fucking mess you’ve made of his sheets and his cock — ring of white forming around his base, as he fucks you through your orgasm, “g’nna cum, where—“ 

“Inside,” and that’s all it takes for him to fall over the edge with you, his cum painting your walls, spurting as his hips slowed as he fucked his release into you, slowly easing your wobbly legs down, groaning again as he pulls his softening dick from your messy cunt, watching your mixed releases spill from inside you. 

He’s rolling off of you, lying beside you, as he cuddles you, burying his face in the nape of your neck, pressing sweet kisses to your still burning skin, “Are you okay?” He murmurs, leaning back, as he runs his fingers through your hair. And his gaze is impossibly soft with concern only for you, “are you in any pain? Do you need—“ 

And you kiss him softly, still full of need, but just for his presence, for his touch, for him, all of him. 

“All I need is you right now, okay?” His cheeks grow even more flushed, eyes shying away, even after all the two of you had done. And as the afterglow ebbs away, your anxieties creep back in — was this just a one time thing? Did he really even like you? Or was this just a matter of circumstance? You were almost too afraid to ask but you were too afraid not to, “Choso—“ 

“Will you be my girlfriend?” He asks, cutting off your sentence, and he’s biting his lip, “sorry did I cut you off-“ and you kiss him again, smiling against his lips, as you pull away, eyes shining, “is that a yes?” 

You laugh, “What do you think?” And you kiss him again. And again, and then a thought occurs to you, “you don’t think Yuji heard us right?” 

And Choso considers it, checking his phone, “No, he would have been giving us shit about it by now,” and he smiles, “but like you said before, I really don’t want to talk about my brother right now,” and his lips find yours again, “we can worry about telling him later.” 

You both have a very late start by the end of this. But the next time someone asked you if Yuji was your boyfriend, at least you could say something else: 

You’d smile, and shake your head, showing off your lock screen of you and Choso, “No, my best friend’s brother is the one for me.” 

“You owe me 5,000 yen,” Yuji says over the phone, grinning, “I told you they would hook up by the end of the break,” 

Kugisaki whines on the other end of the phone, “Fuck, you rigged this, Itadori — I know you must have,” 

“It’s not my fault the roads were bad when he was going back to school,” although it was his fault that his brother couldn’t sleep in his room and had no choice but to sleep in his room — but Kugisaki didn’t need to know that, “at least you didn’t have to hear them all morning,” 

She laughs, “Oh please, it’s not like I haven't walked in on you and Fushiguro making out, what twice now?” 

Yuji’s cheeks flush, “Shut up! And don’t tell anyone about that. She won’t ever let me hear the end of it, and Choso — you know what he did to my ex girlfriend, he practically interrogated her,” he really didn’t want to subject Megumi to that — not yet at least. 

“Yeah, yeah, then you better treat me to lunch when we’re back on campus,” and he opens his mouth to reply, “or I might just let it slip to your bestie that you actually don’t have classes on Tuesday and that’s the day you’re gonna spend at Fushiguro’s place,” 

“…Nowhere too expensive, okay?” 

“You don’t get to make demands in this situation.” 

✧ a/n: my itafushi heart popped off sorry hahah. this was a fun concept and i hope you guys enjoyed it!! thank god this one wasn't as long as my last celebration fic :). i was able to finish it in like two days, rather than like a week lmao. i will be doing my original concept for the celebration fic -- it's just taking a different form :) and didn't quite fit these prompts / request like i wanted it to. also yes the title is from that victorious song lmao.

✧ taglist: @celestie0, @that-goth-bisexual, @jj333sworld, @nysrevenge, @gojolvrr34, @crazychaoticizzy, @sunnyf4lls, @ahniebeauxbonnie, @sukaibg, @rrosieroo, @buffytheangelslayer, @alliereece, @strawmariee, @complexivelovely, @fushitoru, @telvess, @firelordazulaaaa, @peachyminx, @celestie0, @ririthedevil, @levyonthelevel, @awniie, @jj333sworld, @strangehuman101, @sailortongue, @nctstrcngencugh, @catsgomurp, @gojoedd, @sugurusdiscordmoderator, @ch0c0bsess, @maybe-a-bi-witch, @teatreeoilll, @pricetagofficial,

[annalavellan]

I MAYBE made a tarot card and reworked the sketch. And maybe I like it very much 👉🏻👈🏻

[fyodior]

toji body worship with brief sex mentions at the end :) // 480 words // divider by @adornedwithlight

firefighter!toji who’s 20+ years into his career and marred with scars and burns. they litter his muscly body, decorating the expanse of his back and creeping down his limbs like vines. he’s had far too many close calls and accidents to even remember what to attribute any of the burns to, but all he knows is that they’re… there. he doesn’t hate them, he’s too old at this point to give a shit what his body looks like. but he doesn’t quite love them. outside of his crew mates, letting others see them is difficult - namely because that never happens. his crew is his family, and who he spends almost all his time with, save for megumi. honestly? he forgets the blemishes are even there.

but then he meets you, and suddenly he’s hyperaware of them. following your first date, where the two of you really hit it off to his pleasant surprise, he immediately goes home and pulls his shirt off to inspect the burns. after years, fresh pink healing skin had faded to a dullish brown, jagged and irregular. the texture was rough and sinewy - like lightning, a younger megumi had said. it sure as hell felt like it at the time, too. the feeling now in them is sparse, if not gone completely. for the first time in years, toji worries that someone like you might find him… ugly. disfigured. disgusting.

so he’s hesitant to show you them. he always keeps his shirt on, as that’s where the majority of the scarring resides. even the first few times you make love, his shirt remains, and he dances around the possibility of you ever showering together. you don’t push him, as he hasn’t told you outright, but you’ve connected the dots. the man is insecure. and that simply won’t do.

after nearly two months of dating, with gentle hands and syrupy sweet words, you finally coax that damn t-shirt off your lover. and… wow. you gasp, and toji’s face falls.

“no, no!” you immediately bactrack, moving to rest a hand on the warped skin of his chest. “toji, you’re beautiful.” you say it with such conviction that while toji doesn’t believe you, he believes that you mean it.

“well if you say it, sweetheart, it must be true,” he chuckles, resting his own marred hand atop the one still pressed against his chest.

as you make love, you take the time to trace every single burn and scar with your fingers, followed by your lips, worshipping what he once believed to be imperfections. if needed, you promise to spend the rest of your life convincing this man that his beauty rivals that of heaven’s greatest angels. toji will never see what you see, feel what you feel. but soon, the mark left on his soul by you will be stronger and deeper than any wound his body could ever weather.

[chu-cho]

hi this is my take on nerdjo

[nanamiskentos]

GOOD TO ME ☓ ── ( 両面宿儺 , ryomen sukuna ) mdni.

⌗ sukuna really hates boring council meetings, but when you're around? he hates them a little less.

ᯓ starring ─ ﹙ 両面宿儺 : ryomen sukuna ﹚ ─ the king of curses x reader

𝓳𝓳𝓴. ㅤ﹑ ( 呪術廻戦 x afab!reader )  ─── ❛ cw ⌓. mdni. true form!kuna. heian era. wife!reader. mutual másturbation, teásing, èdging. ríding. cèrvix kissing, brèèding kínk, sukuna ADORES you. wc ⌓. 3.3k. art, clloudgarden.

𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ( author says ) there's cousin greg everywhere for those who have the eyes to see

"and, if it is to be said, my lord, so it be, so it is –"

oh, for fuck's sake, sukuna should have known it would have been another useless, dull meeting. the absolute waste of time that left him nostalgic for sticking his head in a fiery kiln, if only to save him from the droning voice of some pathetic subordinate rambling about territorial disputes between lower-grade curses, as if he gave a damn.

these insects, squabbling over scraps, too weak to take what they wanted, too spineless to act without crawling to him for approval. the king of curses can only exhale through his nose, chin propped up on a curled first as he taps fingers against the fine table. patience thinning by the second, maybe he'd kill one of these lowlifes for sport, just to keep things interesting.

"...and so, my lord, we would ask your decision on the matter."

ah, right. this fuckass council couldn't do a damn thing for themselves, can they? two pairs of russet eyes level at the insignificant wretch standing before him, frail-lookin' and wringing his wiry hands like a meek rodent.

"what would you like me to say, hmm?"

the miscreant hesitates, "the...the western border dispute, my lord," he stammers, "do we intervene? or should we let the lesser curses resolve it among themselves? o-only as you see fit, of course."

there must be a thousand other things running through the king of curses's mind at the moment. he's feeling rather peckish, for starters, for it seems the whole, marinated boar that he ravaged through to break his fast was not quite enough to be satiating.

ah, sukuna wonders, there's also that harvest festival looming up, for the cowardly emperor's timid footman did indeed deliver an invitation — lined with gold leaf. and tch', he still needs to replace the bowstring in his yumi, perhaps he would be more inclined to use animal sinew for a more sturdy yield.

all these items of agenda faintly float around in the demon's mind, until he's blinking, remembering the pathetic rogue still shuffling in front of him. sukuna decides to play it safe, falling back to his default answer and favourite philosophy.

"kill them."

"ah, w-who, my lord?"

sukuna sighs, feeling a vague itch on the back of his neck, "all of them. the weaklings who came crying for help. the ones causing the problem. heh, just take out anyone standing within five feet of them while yer' at it," he's waving a large hand dismissively, "if they can't handle their own affairs, i don't wanna' hear about it."

"that doesn't sound very wise now, does it?"

sukuna feels his thick jaw tick, and he needs not even turn his head to see the source of dissent, for he knows your voice, your presence better than he knows himself. he can hear the quiet rhythm of your steps, carrying you behind him, and then towards his side, towards your rightful place.

"the hell are you doing here?" sukuna's tongue clicking behind his teeth, taking in that intoxicating scent of incense and clean silk, and the fresh peaches that you so loved to split open with bare hands when the fruit was in season.

"you said i could sit in your council today," you murmur, sidling closer to his large frame that looms against his grandiose seat of bone and wood.

huh, sukuna does remember making some vague promise like that, some invitation extended towards you, his (mostly) beloved wife — to allow you to sit in on these tedious council meetings. damn shame, how he can't help but make promises in the golden haze of post-coital glow, and how he's obligated to fulfil them later on. whatever, focus.

but it seems that you're already a step ahead of him, smiling at the skittish scoundrel who most certainly does not deserve the privilege of that beauty, "so, what was the matter at hand?"

the wretch seems almost relieved to be conversing with you, rather than the idle terror of the king of curses, and he's shifting on the polished, marble floor, "well, my lady, it was the w-western borders you see. crops had been razed to the ground and —"

now call him a weak-minded fool (or don't, if you sensibly value your life) but sukuna does not even hear nor register the rest of the louse's words.

clawed fingers twitching, shoulders rippling at the sudden sensation of you drawing faint circles over his broad thighs. granted, there is a layer of thick, woven silk between your grazing nails and his flesh, but the sensation of your touch — even through his ivory martial pants, makes sukuna's ears ring.

what sort of game do you think you're playing?

but you're not even looking at him, "now, that is most unfortunate. i assume imperial troops have not been able to intervene?" not even batting your lashes once towards sukuna's flushing face, when your hand is drifting to low centre of his chiselled abdomen, further down so your dizzying touch finds home on his clothed groin.

sukuna only watches with a honed, terrible interest as you shift slightly and the movement parts the fine-lined edges of your robe. the sight sending tendrils of searing flames down his spine, for fuck, if he didn't know any better, you're entirely bare underneath the thin silk of your summer yukata.

and sukuna wagers, he swears, that a single claw tugging at the flimsy fabric would unravel the robes so deliciously before him, delighting him with his favourite vision in the entire world. mouth watering, fangs slipping past the corners of his red lips at the thought of laving pleasurable bruises over your chest, and lower.

fuck all this, border disputes over crops, maggots with their problems, imperial soldiers.

"out." patience snapping like brittle bone, fingers flexed against the edges of his seat at the head of the council. a subtle motion, one that sends every pathetic soul in the room scrambling to their feet. no second chances, no hesitations at his orders for they knew better.

how satisfying then, when the massive chamber doors groan open. the rustle of fabric, the hurried shuffle of sandals, all of them scurrying out like rats. not daring to look back. all except you.

still seated beside him, still watching him. as though you knew exactly what sort of effect your little stunt would have on him. he needs not even look to sense that insufferable curve of your shapely lips, the faint glint of amusement in your eyes.

and sukuna heaves heady air through his lungs, forcing indifferent into every inch of his body — not quite willing to indulge you yet. pretending like the heat licking at his veins wasn't due to you, like his pulse did not thicken, darken and quicken the very moment you walked in. as though there's not hot blood rushing through his stiff cocks at this very moment.

"why the temper today?" you tease, tone as light as a blossom in the spring, "i thought y'were tired, all these dull meetings, my love, they must be getting to you."

"tsk', don't got any attitude, woman." but your hands are on him again, gripping thick, dual shafts that are still draped in silk. and sukuna does his best not to rumble, to purr when the delicious friction of your gliding hands sets him alight, "now, what is it that my queen wants?"

you're tilting your head, giving him those distracting hazy eyes that makes his groin tense, as though your stroking fingers aren't enough to make his wide hips buck, "what exactly do you think i want, 'kuna?"

not lord sukuna, not any other simpering title that the others threw his way. just his name falling from your sweet lips, and it's enough to allow a silent snarl curl at the edges of his lips, because right now? sukuna wasn't thinking about his estate, nor any other ambition save for you. and how easily he could wipe that smug look off your face. how easily he could pleasure you so that your cheeks would flush, and your jaw would drop slack in beautiful squeals of his name, pleas for more.

dark-stained nails shooting out, yanking at your waist. sukuna revels in the sharp gasp that leaves your lips as he yanks you forward, gripping at your flesh and pulling you onto his lap in one fluid motion. no hesitation, no warning and no mercy for sukuna either, it seems. for your robes part and sukuna has to bite back a low, rumbling groan at the feeling of your bare cunt against his thigh. minx.

he has no doubt that you can feel his pulse beat up against you, heavy and thrumming. like war drums beneath his skin but he cares not, for you have only ever been the sole being alive that could undo him like this. aw, cute, how your eyes widen at the sight of his second mouth curling into a sharp, lazy grin.

"well," sukuna presses his lips to the juncture of your neck, amusement laced with something more lustful, "you have my full attention now, don't you? heh, i mean this is what ya' wanted, wasn't it?"

and sukuna, for all his idle threats and vague promises of suffering, cannot help himself. already leaning in, with heat, pressure and teeth. crimson mouth slanted over yours, crushing and demanding, no patience nor hesitation. just hunger.

your soft moan is swallowed by him, for he's greedy, gluttonous for the sight, the sound and the feel of you, and he drinks it all in. devouring the way that you melt against the broad planes of his chest, rocking your hips gently against the stiff tips of his aching cocks that prick through the silk.

blush-pink lashes flickering against creamy, roughened skin, savouring the way you respond. the way your hands slide up, grasping at his shoulders, his jaw, anywhere on your husband that you can touch.

there's a sharp growl lingering in sukuna's bobbing throat, deep and pleased, because this what what he had been waiting for. for you to realise that there was only ever one way that teasing the king of curses could end. and it was right here, with you splayed out for him, in his grasp.

and of course, he knows exactly what you're trying to achieve like this — chasing a sweet and easy relief against his hips. the damp wetness between your thighs crying out for any friction that made your own hips stutter but sukuna's having none of that. gripping at your waist with enough force that leaves you frozen, unable to buck yourself up against him.

"ah, 'kuna," you're whining so beautifully, sukuna has to steel his resolve, "was s-so close." huffing, pouting at your lack of trembling release as sukuna presses a gentle kiss to your jaw.

"ya' really thought i was gonna' let you have it that easy?" sukuna laughs, a deep and wicked chuckle thick with satisfaction, "mmh, i have a better idea, hah."

a broad, wide hand splays itself against your lower abdomen. arching your spine just so, pushing you slightly back so sukuna can drag his hungry gaze to the shimmering, swollen folds that he aches for. already creating such a filthy mess over his lap as he ghosts the very tips of his nails around your mound, "did ya' come in here drippin' just for me, wife? wanted to interrupt all my kingly duties?"

feisty thing you are, for you don't dignify him with a verbal answer. already reaching past the woven band of his martial pants, dipping into his trousers to wrap your sweet hands around his hard cocks. sukuna hisses, doing his best to not just spill translucent seed right then and there. bucking his hips back, slapping your hands away, "you don't get to touch."

and oh, how he loves the frown marring at your kiss-stung pout, the adorable jut of your lower lip scowling at being deprived at the chance of feeling the king of curses unravel under your touch.

"c'mon, wife, how about somethin' better?" sukuna smiles, though it is not a smile that offers reprieve, as he gently presses a soft kiss to your wrist, guiding your hand to your own core, "show me jus' how badly you wanted me."

your whines are delicious, the music of creation to his ears, as you bristle and grumble. rolling your eyes skywards, but eager to chase your own pleasure nevertheless. sukuna watches with greedy eyes, taking in at how you dip two fingers right over your glistening cunt, gently brushing them against your clit so you shiver in his lap.

sukuna is watching you, concentric-ringed eyes fixed on you with the quiet intensity of a god surveying his offerings. but it's clear that you don't have it in you to become self-conscious, already mewling at your own touch. deliciously swabbing the pads of your fingers through your soaking heat, rocking sharper against the numbing pleasure of your own motions.

he's hissing, realising that he may need to take, heh, matters into his own hands as well. matters being the thick, dual shafts that stiffly spring into the air, demanding his attention. angry pink-bulbed tips that leak small spurts of pre already, and sukuna grips at the uppermost cock, fisting a thick hand over his length. keeping his eyes fixed on how your fingers draw gentle circles over your clit (well, of course, he already knew just how you liked it, you're his wife, after all).

"g-good?" there must be a faint cherry flush painting the back of sukuna's neck, doing his very best to pretend he's not stuttering and stammering over his words. but his breath hitches, low and guttural, more growl than a gasp. like a beast caught between restraint and desire.

he's not even sure where the filthy, glorious sounds are coming from. the sopping pap! pap! pap! of skin against skin, of sukuna's thick, muscled fist tugging at his cock, or the slick slide of your fingers in your cunt, teasing at your entrance and your inner walls.

"s-so good, 'kuna," you're sighing, and sukuna loves you all the more for how you blush, jaw falling in honeyed whispers of his name, eyes hazy with the pleasure that is so close to you now, panting over and over.

and because, naturally, sukuna is a greedy and lecherous individual for his wife only, he keeps his lower set of eyes trained on how you're dipping the very tips of your fingers into your cunt, stretching the pad of your thumb up to flick and tug at your clit. a mimicry of what he bestows upon you, and he can see that you're truly that close to a finishing release. eyes droopy and lovesick as you rut at a sharp, staccato pace against him.

close, closer and right on the very edge when sukuna realises that he is a starved man (no, a starved curse? uh, not quite. these are all just semantics) and he's about to —

you're sputtering, tears springing to the very corners of your angelic eyes. crystalline lashes pooling on the very edges of your angry, reddened gaze, "i was so close, what the fuck!"

sukuna nips at your lips, drinking in your huffs and sighs, pulling your hand away from your sodden cunt, "must i ask my wife's forgiveness?" low and husky, rock-salt rasp as he jostles your hips in his powerful hold.

"now, how 'bout i keep ya' hands busy with this?" and he gently guides your slick-stranded hand to his upper cock, shuddering at the pressure of your fingertips against his aching, painful shaft. laving at your collarbone as he pulls you right over the lower shaft, brushing your swollen pussy folds over the cock, soaking him in your sweet, sweet arousal.

"hah, s-stop teasing," you grouse, already beginning a steady and pumping pace with your hands once more that makes sukuna's iron-willed concentration waver. fuck, you're too good at that, despite being barely able to wrap your hand around the sheer girth of the demon's cock.

sukuna does decide to take some small pity on you (see! he's generous!) by pressing soothing circles to your clit, easing you up, "big stretch, hah. jus' take a deep breath for me, wife." slowly lowering you down on his cock, already swabbing turgid veins against your innermost walls, and truthfully? losing his fucking mind at how the feeling your pussy wrapped around him shatters whatever dignity he had left.

"f-fuck me," sukuna breathes, "ohh, 's the sweetest thing in the world." already determined to kiss his weeping tip against your sweet spot as soon as he finds it, already swivelling your hips against the faint curl of pink hairs on his groin. determined to hit that roughened patch of heightened sensitivity.

and because sukuna does have a reputation to keep up, he would not ever admit this to another living soul, lest he be left with little choice but to flay that poor soul alive. but it's barely been half a minute of sukuna's cock being sucked in by your cunt, and he feels as though he may already burst.

it certainly doesn't help that your mouth is pressing sharp kisses to his pectorals, right over the darkened tattoos that brand his chest and the way that your hand is pumping his upper cock, the tip weakly spurting and so close to release.

pleasurable slap! after slap! of his mushroom-tip against your cervix, pressing as deep as he can, as sukuna slowly lifts your hips up and down his shaft. he loves you, he really does adore you and he fears that he may genuinely have to verbalise this sentiment more often, because he feels as though his ragged, dark heart may burst at the sight of you so ethereal, glistening in his hold.

if he were a less jealous, selfish husband, he may have commissioned the court sculptor to get in here, to capture your writhing form and prop it up in the temple for all lesser beings to leave offerings and candles at your image.

but this sight? it's for sukuna to worship alone, to capture in his memory, the image of you gasping and panting for sweet, candied breath, with your cunt drooling in his lap and spitting down his shaft.

"m-more, more, 'kuna," you sweetly murmur, with the edges of your robes slipping off your shoulder so sukuna can nip his fangs into the sweet flesh.

but the king of curses can only smile, a genuine grin that never bodes well for your endurance, splaying five fingers against the thick, bulging tip that presses against your abdomen, "more? better h-hold on, wife, then. 'cause, this?" he prods at the thick tip that is just visible through your womb, "this is where 'm gonna be, maybe give this wretched place an heir? what'dya say?"

having his wife's slippery cunt tacking against his groin, slapping all so nasty and sticky — all while scheming for an heir to finally bring down that wretched emperor in heian-kyō? to see you glowing and round with his child? sukuna's a multitasker, what can he say?