Nanami X Y/n - Blog Posts
⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Matching Pyjamas (Hello Kitty Edition)
⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆Characters: Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru and Shoko Ieiri
Synopsis: you give your lovely partner matching pyjamas, They unfortunately are whores for you
my other works -> fun little fics
!!!WARNINGS!!!
This is explicit content so viewer discretion is advised. It’s not my job to babysit. If you’re not comfortable or know you shouldn’t be reading adult content then think again before reading.
Gojo Satoru
ᓚ₍⑅^..^₎♡You originally were out buying some pyjamas for yourself. (gojos card just might be the one you were using for the purchase) Hello Kitty pajama pants laid there in front of you, thinking they were adorable and cozy. But then you saw a pair in Gojo’s size and thought, Why not?
ᓚ₍⑅^..^₎♡When you hand him the pants, he gasps like you just proposed. “Matching pajamas?! Are we that couple now?!” He pretends to wipe away a fake tear. “I never thought this day would come.” He’s already stripping out of his current clothes before you can say anything.
ᓚ₍⑅^..^₎♡He absolutely loves them and will not stop posing in front of the mirror. “I make Hello Kitty look good,” he brags, striking ridiculous model poses. He keeps calling himself “Hello Kityoru” and refuses to wear anything else for the rest of the night.
ᓚ₍⑅^..^₎♡You two end up on the couch, wrapped up in blankets, binge-watching a random show. Gojo insists on taking a million selfies, dramatically captioning them like “Couples who slay together, stay together.” You have to confiscate his phone at one point because he keeps sending them to Nanami.
ᓚ₍⑅^..^₎♡It starts off sweet, Gojo pulling you into his chest, arms snug around your waist as he buries his face in your hair. But then? His hands start wandering, his breath gets lower, and before you know it, his lips are ghosting over your neck. “Mmm, you smell nice,” he murmurs, his fingers slipping beneath your hoodie, tracing slow circles on your stomach. “Too nice for me to behave.”
ᓚ₍⑅^..^₎♡Gojo loves to move against you just to mess with you. He shifts just right, pressing his hips against your backside when he’s spooning you, or rolling his body against yours when he’s on top. And he’s smug about it. “Oops,” he whispers against your ear when you gasp, acting so innocent. “My bad.”
ᓚ₍⑅^..^₎♡He absolutely uses the cozy night as an excuse to get his hands on you. Laying on the couch together? His hands are under your pajama top, tracing the curves of your waist. Oh you’re getting up to grab snacks? He very casually tugs at your pants, threatening to slip them lower, just to hear you yelp.
ᓚ₍⑅^..^₎♡At first, it’s slow and sweet, Gojo pressing lazy, open mouthed kisses along your jaw, your throat, his hands warm and steady on your waist. But the second you react, tilting your head, sighing against his lips. he grins. “Oh? You like this?” And just like that, his grip tightens, his kisses turn hungry, and suddenly, the pajama pants aren’t feeling so necessary anymore.
ᓚ₍⑅^..^₎♡At some point, he’s got you under him, hands braced on either side of your head, still wearing those ridiculous Hello Kitty pajamas, but his eyes? Dark. Mischievous. “You’re so cute,” he hums, dipping down to steal another kiss. “I should keep you in these all the time.” His fingers hook under your waistband, tugging just a little. “Actually… maybe not all the time.”
ᓚ₍⑅^..^₎♡Gojo thinks it’s hilarious to keep them on while he has his fun. He’ll push them just low enough to get what he wants but leave them bunched around your thighs, smirking down at you. “Matching pajamas and matching moans?” He laughs breathlessly. “We’re really on the same wavelength, huh?”
ᓚ₍⑅^..^₎♡ Hello Kitty Pajama Pants: Ruined? By the end of the night, one of you is definitely missing your pajama pants (probably you), and Gojo is grinning like the troublemaker he is. “Oops. Guess we’ll have to get new ones.” But when you glare at him, he just laughs and pulls you back into his arms. “Fine, fine~ I’ll make it up to you… eventually.”
————
The moment you hand Gojo the matching Hello Kitty pajama pants, his reaction is so dramatic,
“Matching pajamas?!” he gasps, clutching them to his chest like you just handed him a sacred relic. “Are we officially that cute couple?” He grins, already stripping out of his current clothes before you can stop him.
You roll your eyes, laughing as he wiggles into the soft pink pants, the little Hello Kitty faces decorating the fabric in a way that’s both adorable and completely ridiculous on a six-foot-three sorcerer.
“How do I look?” He strikes a pose, flexing his arms like he’s about to model for a Hello Kitty Calvin Klein ad. His toned stomach is on full display as his shirt lifts just enough to tease the perfect lines of his abs. He tilts his head, catching the way your eyes linger.
Oh. He definitely noticed.
“You checking me out?” His smirk is nothing short of dangerous as he steps closer, fingers grazing the hem of your own pajama pants. “Because, babe, you don’t have to stare. If you wanna touch—”
You shove him. “Put a shirt on before you catch a cold, dumbass.”
Gojo dramatically flops onto the couch, draping himself across your lap instead. “But you like me shirtless,” he teases, resting his chin against your thigh. “And besides, aren’t these nights supposed to be all cozy and intimate? I think this is a great start.”
You huff, fingers absentmindedly threading through his soft, white hair. “Intimate doesn’t mean we have to skip the movie part.”
“Doesn’t it?” His hands sneak under your pajama top, palms warm against your skin as he traces light, lazy circles up your ribs. The touch is barely there, but it sends a delicious shiver down your spine. “Because I really like the idea of an intimate night with you…” His voice dips lower, breath warm against your skin.
“Gojo—”
He tuts, lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “That’s not what you usually call me when we’re alone, sweetheart.”
Your heart jumps as he suddenly shifts, pressing you back against the couch cushions, his weight settling between your legs. His smirk deepens as his fingers toy with the waistband of your pajama pants, pulling just enough to make you squirm.
“You put me in these adorable pants,” he muses, pressing a slow, lingering kiss just below your jaw. “You should’ve known I’d find a way to make the night even better.”
And judging by the heat in his eyes? That’s exactly what he plans to do.
At first, it’s innocent his arm draped around your shoulders as you settle against him, legs tangled under a shared blanket. The soft glow of the TV flickers across his features, his usual sharp grin replaced with something softer, almost content.
But then his fingers start moving.
A slow, absentminded drag along your thigh, just under the blanket. A featherlight stroke against your ribs, just under your hoodie. He’s watching the movie… or at least pretending to but you can feel the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips every time you shift in response.
His thumb brushes circles over your hipbone, teasing, deliberate. The warmth of his palm lingers over your stomach before sliding lower, dipping just beneath the waistband of your pajama pants. Not enough to be indecent, just enough to make you ache.
Your breath hitches, and that’s when Gojo finally moves.
He turns his head, pressing a slow, lazy kiss to the side of your neck, his lips warm against your skin. He lingers there, exhaling softly, letting the heat of his breath send shivers down your spine then he grins.
His fingers tighten on your waist, his body shifting ever so slightly against yours, letting you feel him. His mouth moves up, lips brushing just behind your ear, and then teeth. A playful nip that sends heat pooling low in your stomach.
The movie continues to play, completely ignored, as Gojo hums against your skin, his voice a low, teasing whisper.
He’s not watching the movie.
“Babe,” he sighs, pulling you against his chest like he has to be touching you at all times. “We look so cute right now. I feel like we should commemorate this moment.”
You roll your eyes, shifting in his lap. “With what? A picture?”
Gojo hums, his hands way too low on your waist. “Oh, I was thinking of something more… fun.”
Before you can even process what he means, he’s already pressing his lips to your neck soft at first, just the ghost of a kiss, but then he lingers, his breath warm against your skin. His fingers tighten on your hips, subtly rocking you against him, and your breath catches.
“Satoru,” you warn, but it’s not much of a warning when it comes out that breathless.
He grins against your skin. Yeah, he noticed.
“What?” he murmurs, feigning innocence as he trails kisses up to your jaw, his voice dropping into something low, teasing, dangerous. “I’m just appreciating my girlfriend. In her cute little pajama pants. Cuddling with me like a good girl.”
Your fingers curl into the fabric of his hoodie, trying not to react, but Gojo is Gojo. he always gets his way. His hands slide beneath your hoodie, fingers spreading against your bare skin, warm, firm. He pulls you closer, until you’re flush against him, your hips slotted perfectly together, and the feeling of him beneath you makes heat spark down your spine.
“You knew this would happen,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear. “You put me in these cute little pajama pants and expected me to behave?” His teeth graze your earlobe, making you shiver. “That’s cute, babe. Really cute.”
You open your mouth to tell him off, but then he moves, rolling his hips up into you slow, deliberate. Your breath stutters, and his smirk deepens.
“There we go,” he murmurs, tipping your chin up with one finger so you’re forced to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark now, filled with something dangerous, and suddenly, the matching pajamas seem like the last thing on his mind.
“You’re-” You try to say something, but he kisses you before you can get the words out, slow at first, letting you think you have some control, but then his hands tighten, pulling you hard against him, and suddenly, you’re letting out a soft, breathy moan into his mouth.
Gojo groans at that, gripping your waist tighter. “Fuck, baby,” he breathes against your lips, his usual teasing gone. “You sound so sweet.”
His lips move back to your neck, kissing, sucking, biting, and you know he’s leaving marks, but you can’t bring yourself to care when he’s gripping your hips like that, guiding you over him in slow, lazy motions.
“We were supposed to be cuddling,” you manage to say, your voice much weaker than you want it to be.
Gojo chuckles against your throat, fingers dipping under the waistband of your pajama pants. “We are cuddling,” he murmurs, sliding them lower. “Just, you know… closer now”
And just like that, your cute, cozy night? Completely ruined. But with the way Gojo’s hands are gripping your thighs, his lips dragging down your collarbone, his voice thick with want you really, really don’t mind.
He refuses to take them off. “I think these are my new signature look,” he declares, walking around the house like he’s on a runway. You catch him wearing them under his Jujutsu uniform the next day, claiming, “They’re my lucky pants now.”
Nanami Kento
≽^• ˕ • ྀི When you first show Nanami the matching Hello Kitty pajama pants, he just stares at them. Then at you. “You can’t be serious.” But you are very serious.
≽^• ˕ • ྀི≼ It takes some gentle persuasion (which may or may not involve you pulling the ultimate guilt trip and telling him that it would make you so happy). He sighs and eventually mutters, “…Fine.” Victory.
≽^• ˕ • ྀི≼Once he actually puts them on, you cannot stop laughing. The sight of the Nanami Kento standing in the middle of your bedroom, wearing pastel pink Hello Kitty pajama pants, is something you’ll cherish forever. He looks down at himself, sighs again, and mutters, “This is ridiculous.”
≽^• ˕ • ྀི≼He won’t admit it, but the fabric is actually really soft, and he appreciates that. He also loves how happy it makes you, even if he pretends to be suffering. “If you ever tell Gojo about this, I’ll never forgive you,” he warns, but there’s the tiniest hint of a smile.
≽^• ˕ • ྀི≼You both end up on the couch, curled up under a blanket, drinking tea and reading books. It’s peaceful, quiet, and everything Nanami loves about being with you. At one point, you rest your head on his shoulder, and he leans into you without a second thought.
≽^• ˕ • ྀི≼You catch him in the kitchen later, making tea with his sleeves rolled up, looking effortlessly handsome despite the cartoon cats on his pants. You giggle, and he raises an eyebrow. “What now?”
≽^• ˕ • ྀི≼When you tell him he looks adorable, he just sighs in that exasperated but affectionate way. Then, without looking at you, he mumbles, “As long as it makes you happy, I don’t mind.”
≽^• ˕ • ྀི≼Nanami genuinely wants to have a normal, cozy night with you. He really does. But then you curl up next to him, looking so soft in those matching Hello Kitty pajama pants, and suddenly, his thoughts aren’t so pure anymore. He exhales sharply, rubbing his temple like he’s fighting for his life. “You look adorable,” he murmurs, voice a little rougher than he intends. You don’t miss the way his fingers flex against his thigh like he’s restraining himself.
≽^• ˕ • ྀི≼At first, he’s just holding you an arm around your waist, a steady, grounding touch. But the longer you’re in his lap, the more his fingers drift tracing patterns against your hip, smoothing up your back, gripping your thigh just a little tighter than necessary. He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it until he hears you suck in a breath. “Apologies,” he says, clearing his throat and forcing himself to loosen his grip. “I didn’t mean to—” You shift in his lap, pressing against something very solid. Nanami tenses. His hands immediately snap back to your waist like he’s trying to regain control of himself, but his jaw clenches as he exhales sharply through his nose. “Please,” he murmurs, voice strained, “don’t move like that.”
≽^• ˕ • ྀི≼He thought they were cute funny, even but now all he can think about is how easy they’d be to pull off. The soft fabric bunching around your thighs as you shift against him, the way they ride low on your hips he’s trying to be respectful, truly, but the urge to just… take is becoming unbearable. “You’re making this very difficult for me,” he finally admits, his voice deep and controlled but his grip on your waist betraying him.
≽^• ˕ • ྀི≼Even when he’s rock hard beneath you, even when his breath is uneven and his fingers are digging into your skin, he still has the audacity to be gentle about it. “If you keep teasing me like this,” he murmurs against your ear, voice thick with restraint, “I might lose my composure.” And then, because he’s Nanami Kento, he still asks, “Would that be alright?”
≽^• ˕ • ྀི≼ The moment you give him permission, the second you whisper something sweet, needy, desperate Nanami snaps. His hands slide under your pajama pants, gripping your thighs as he flips you beneath him. His lips are everywhere your neck, your collarbone, your stomach. “These are cute,” he murmurs, tugging at the waistband, his breath hot against your skin. “But they need to come off.” with the way his fingers are already hooking under the fabric, his eyes dark and hungry, you know he’s not asking anymore.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
You had picked out the matching Hello Kitty pajama pants as a joke, thinking it would be funny to see Nanami, a man who lived in crisp suits and an air of professionalism, lounging around in something so domestic and cute.
At first, it was funny. You had laughed, taking a picture of him sitting stiffly on the couch, frowning down at the little cartoon cat printed on his leg. But then you had curled up next to him, resting your head on his chest, letting his warmth seep into you.
Now Nanami is struggling.
His arm is wrapped securely around you, his fingers resting on your waist not moving, because he refuses to let them. But you’re soft, warm, pressing against him in all the right ways, and he’s gripping onto the last frayed threads of his self control.
“You look adorable,” he says, his voice perfectly even though he’s very aware of the way it’s lower than usual.
You hum against his chest, shifting slightly. His fingers twitch.
“I still can’t believe you agreed to wear this,” you say, running your hand down his stomach, innocently but your palm presses against his lower abdomen, just barely brushing beneath the hem of his hoodie. Nanami exhales slowly, controlled, like he’s trying to regulate himself.
“It’s not the worst thing you’ve made me wear,” he admits. A pause. “Though it may be the most distracting.”
You tilt your head up, catching the tight set of his jaw, the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. Your eyes flick down to his hand still resting on your waist flexing like he’s restraining himself.
Oh.
You press your palm against his stomach again, just a little lower this time and Nanami stiffens.
His grip on your waist tightens, and his breath comes out sharp.
“Apologies,” he says quickly, his hand immediately relaxing, like he’s forcing himself to pull back. “I didn’t mean to—”
You shift against him again, and this time, you feel it, something solid beneath you, something that wasn’t there when you first cuddled up next to him.
Nanami’s body locks up. His fingers snap back to your waist, holding you still as he lets out a long, slow exhale through his nose.
“Please,” he murmurs, voice strained, “don’t move like that.”
You blink up at him, feigning innocence. “Like what?”
His eyes darken. His fingers flex again, digging just slightly into your waist.
“You’re making this very difficult for me,” he finally admits, his voice deep, measured, controlled.
You bite your lip, shifting again, just to test him. The sharp inhale he takes, the slight clench of his jaw he’s trying so hard to be polite, to keep his hands steady, to maintain some level of restraint.
But you don’t want him to be restrained.
You reach up, trailing your fingers along his jaw, and his eyes flick to yours heated, dangerous.
“Satoru would’ve already pinned me down by now,” you muse, teasing. “Guess you’re not as desperate as I thought.”
Nanami moves before you can even process it.
One second, you’re settled against him, and the next, he’s flipping you onto your back, his body covering yours, his hands braced on either side of your head.
His voice is low, dark, frustrated as he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear.
“I am not Satoru,” he murmurs.
And then, before you can even react, his hips press down, rolling against you with slow, deliberate pressure.
You gasp, fingers curling into his hoodie, and Nanami lets out a shaky breath like he’s the one unraveling.
“You,” he murmurs, lips moving along your jaw, your throat, “are testing my patience.”
His hands slide under your hoodie, warm against your bare skin, fingers spreading across your ribs. His grip tightens, pulling you closer, and you shudder when his mouth ghosts over the sensitive spot below your ear.
“Would it be alright,” he murmurs, “if I lost my composure?”
His fingers hook under the waistband of your pajama pants, tugging just enough to send a clear message.
And with the way his eyes darken, his breath ragged against your skin you know that, the second you say yes, there will be no more patience. No more restraint.
Just Nanami, desperate, needy, and completely undone for you
And that’s how Nanami Kento, the most serious man alive, ends up standing in your bedroom wearing pink Hello Kitty pajama pants with his dress shirt still tucked in.
Geto Suguru
₍^. .^₎⟆Geto Pretends to Be Innocent, He acts like the matching Hello Kitty pyjama pants are just a cute, domestic moment. He lets you cuddle up to him on the couch, an arm draped lazily around your shoulders, stroking small circles into your skin. But does he have ulterior motives? yes. absolutely. The moment you shift in his lap a little too much, his grip tightens, and his voice drops into something low and commanding. “You’re squirming, sweetheart. You wouldn’t be trying to get my attention, would you?”
₍^. .^₎⟆Geto doesn’t ask he just pulls you into his lap when he wants you there. His large hands settle firmly on your hips, keeping you exactly where he wants you. And when you shift just slightly against him, he lets out a slow, amused hum. “Careful,” he murmurs, fingers flexing. “Unless you want me to handle you.”
₍^. .^₎⟆ One resting on your thigh, the other tracing slow, absentminded circles along your stomach, teasing just below the hem of your hoodie. He’s casual about it, like he’s not fully aware of the way your breath hitches every time his fingers dip just a little lower.
₍^. .^₎⟆He makes you think you’re in control, letting you straddle his lap, letting you run your hands through his hair, until he suddenly grips your wrist, stopping your movements, his dark eyes locked on you. “You look so confident sitting up there,” he muses, his voice smooth, dangerous. “Should I remind you who’s really in charge?”
₍^. .^₎⟆ Geto loves patience. He loves making you lose yours. He moves slow his hands tracing over your body, his lips brushing against your neck, whispering soft, teasing words that leave you squirming. “Look at you,” he murmurs, kissing along your throat. “So desperate, and I’ve barely even touched you.”
₍^. .^₎⟆He has no problem keeping the pants on while he teases you, pulling the waistband just low enough to let his fingers slip beneath. “You were so excited about these matching pajamas,” he muses, his smirk sharp. “You wouldn’t want me to ruin them too quickly, would you?”
₍^. .^₎⟆His voice alone is enough to break you. low, smooth, dark with amusement as he murmurs every filthy thing he’s about to do to you. “You’re going to be good for me, aren’t you?” His hand tightens on your throat, not squeezing, just holding. enough to make you shiver. “Or do I need to teach you how to behave?”
₍^. .^₎⟆The Morning After, Geto wakes up first, watching you sleep with a knowing smirk before deliberately pulling on his Hello Kitty pajama pants again. When you stir awake, he stretches, looking completely satisfied. “Didn’t you say you wanted a cute, cozy night?” he teases, brushing his fingers along your bare thigh. “Because I think we got a little… off track.”
——-
You had expected some pushback, maybe a little teasing, maybe even a dramatic sigh of suffering, but what you hadn’t expected was for Suguru to slide into the Hello Kitty pajama pants so effortlessly. No complaints, no hesitation. Just a smooth, almost nonchalant acceptance that left you momentarily stunned.
So here you are now, snapping a picture of him looking utterly unbothered.
“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”
Geto leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching as you practically vibrate with excitement over the fact that he’s actually wearing the matching Hello Kitty pajama pants. The soft pink fabric contrasts against his dark hair and broad frame, hanging low on his hips in a way that should be illegal.
You nod, grinning. “Very much.”
He huffs a quiet laugh, stepping toward you, his movements smooth and deliberate. “You’re staring, sweetheart.” His voice is deep, rich, laced with amusement.
You cross your arms, trying so hard to act casual. “Because it’s funny.”
One dark brow lifts. “Is it?” He tilts his head, as he approaches you.
You don’t even realize you’re backing up until your legs hit the edge of the couch. Before you can react, he’s right there, caging you in without touching you. He leans down, voice dropping into that smooth, dangerous murmur that always unravels you.
“You sure it’s funny?” His fingers skim along the waistband of your pajama pants, slow and teasing. “Because you’re looking at me like you want something.”
Your breath catches, and his smirk deepens.
“You can tell me, love,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your ear. “I don’t mind giving you what you want.”
His hands slide lower, settling on your hips, pulling you flush against him. The heat of his body, the lazy way his fingers trace your skin—it’s too much and not enough at the same time.
“Suguru—”
He hums, dipping his head to press slow, lingering kisses down your throat. “Mmm. I love when you say my name like that.”
Your hands grip his arms for balance, your heart hammering in your chest. The cute, innocent pajama night. maybe not so much.
The night was supposed to be cute. Just you and Geto, curled up on the couch in your matching watching a movie, maybe sharing a few lazy kisses before bed.
It was supposed to be domestic, just a night of cuddling, a bad movie playing in the background, and maybe some sleepy kisses before bed.
But now?
Now you were in his lap, your legs straddling his thighs, your back arching as his large hands gripped your waist, and the look in his dark eyes was anything but sweet.
“You were so excited about these pajamas,” he murmurs, voice low and smooth, his fingers dragging leisurely beneath your hoodie, skating along the warm skin of your stomach. “Did you plan for this to happen?”
You try to respond, really, you do but the way his hands spread over your hips, controlling the way you move against him, has your thoughts scattering. His touch is firm, teasing, and when his thumbs press just right into your skin, your breath catches.
Geto notices. He always notices.
“You’ve been squirming all night,” he muses, tilting his head, that infuriatingly lazy smirk playing at his lips. “Shifting in my lap like you’re trying to get my attention.”
His lips brush your ear, his voice sinking into something dangerous.
“So tell me, sweetheart what exactly do you want?”
Your fingers tighten in the fabric of his hoodie, but before you can answer, he moves, rolling his hips up just right into you. A gasp escapes before you can stop it, your body tensing, and that that makes Geto chuckle, low and dark.
“Ah,” he hums, his grip tightening. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
You bite your lip, heat coiling low in your stomach. “You’re such a-”
He tsks, catching your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up so you have no choice but to look at him. His dark eyes gleam with amusement, but there’s something wicked beneath it something that sends a sharp pulse of need straight through you.
“Watch your mouth,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your lips, pressing just enough to part them. “Or I’ll have to remind you how to behave.”
Your heart pounds, but Geto only smirks, his fingers trailing lower, his palm resting lightly over your throat. He doesn’t squeeze doesn’t need to. The unspoken command is clear: be still. Let me handle you.
And god, he does.
His lips are on your neck before you can even process it, kissing, biting, marking, each drag of his mouth slow and possessive. His hands grip your hips, forcing you to grind down against him, and the friction between you has heat pooling between your legs way too quickly.
“You’re already shaking,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice laced with amusement. “I’ve barely even started.”
You make a sound between a whimper and a protest, but Geto only chuckles, his hands trailing down to the waistband of your pajama pants, fingers slipping beneath the fabric.
“You wanted to keep these on, right?” he teases, tugging them just low enough to make you gasp. “Or should I take my time ruining you?”
You shudder, clutching at his hoodie, but Geto doesn’t move. He just watches you, patient, expectant, his grip steady on your waist.
“Go on,” he murmurs, dark eyes gleaming. “Be a good girl and ask me for it.”
And with the way he’s looking at you, his smirk sharp, his grip firm, his breath warm against your throat you already know you’ll break for him.
You always do.
"I can fix him" this "I can make him worse" that Pathetic. I can love him so much that it changes the course of the entire narrative.
Shoko Ieiri
૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡When you pull out the matching Hello Kitty pajama pants, Shoko gives you the most unimpressed look imaginable. She takes a slow drag from her cigarette, exhales, and deadpans, “You’re serious?”
૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡You expect her to fight you on it, maybe tease you a little, but she just shrugs. “Eh. As long as they’re comfy.” And just like that, she puts them on like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡It’s unfair how good she looks, even in pink Hello Kitty pajama pants, an oversized hoodie, and messy hair. She’s lounging on the couch, one leg draped over the armrest, looking like a model. “How do you do that?” you ask, genuinely baffled.She smirks, tilting her head just enough to make your stomach flip. “Wouldn’t you like to know, pretty girl?”
૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡Shoko has a teasing streak a mile long, and she loves seeing how far she can push you. She’ll straddle your lap, fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin, her breath warm against your ear all while still wearing those ridiculously cute pajama pants.
૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡She acts like she’s just being playful, just having fun, but you know better. The way her nails drag down your back, the way she tilts her head and gives you that look yeah, she’s fully aware of what she’s doing.“What?” she asks, feigning innocence as her fingers dip just under your waistband. “You wanted a cozy night in, didn’t you?”
૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ She’ll nuzzle into your neck, her voice soft, lazy, dangerous. “You wanna beg, don’t you?” she murmurs, lips ghosting over your pulse point. “Bet you’d sound so pretty.” And when you do whimper? She grins.
૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡Shoko has no shame when it comes to getting a reaction out of you. She’ll let out the softest, most sinful little sighs against your skin, just to watch you lose your composure.“You’re so easy to tease,” she murmurs, lips grazing your throat before she bites down, just enough to make you gasp.
૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡stretching every moment just to make you squirm. Loves the way you get impatient when she moves too slow.“You’re already needy?” she teases, nipping at your earlobe. “I haven’t even started yet.”
૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡She’ll keep them on as long as possible, just to torture you, but the second you snap and try to take control? That’s when she really starts having fun.She smirks up at you, amused, as you pin her down. “Finally lost your patience, huh?” she hums, lifting her hips just enough to help you slide them off. “Took you long enough.”
૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡The pajama pants are nowhere to be found, and Shoko looks way too satisfied with herself. She stretches out, giving you a slow once-over before smirking. “So,” she muses, voice still husky from the night before, “wanna get matching panties next?”
—-
You should have known Shoko was going to be a terror for the night the second she slipped into the matching Hello Kitty pajama pants. She did not say anything about them, did not tease you right away. She just pulled them on, stretched like a cat, and flopped onto your couch like she owned the place.
The real problem was not even the pants. It was the look she had been giving you all night. That lazy, knowing little smirk, the slow drag of her gaze as she watched you from across the room, the way she stretched her arms over her head just to make you look. She knew exactly what she was doing, and the worst part was that she was enjoying every second of it.
At first, she kept it innocent. She curled up next to you, tucked herself against your side, and pretended to care about the movie playing in the background. It was comfortable, familiar, warm. But then her fingers started moving.
Then she shifted.
At first, it seemed like she was just adjusting her position, getting comfortable. But then she threw a leg over yours, settling fully into your lap, arms looping lazily around your neck, and suddenly, focusing on the movie was not an option anymore.
You swallowed hard, hands coming up to grip her hips. “Shoko.”
She tilted her head, looking way too amused. “Hmm?”
“You’re doing this on purpose.”
Her smirk widened. “Doing what on purpose?”
Oh, she was evil.
You opened your mouth to call her out on it, but before you could, she rolled her hips. Slow, deliberate. Your breath caught, and your fingers dug into her waist before you could stop yourself. That only made her chuckle, low and satisfied.
“Look at you,” she murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face like she was not actively ruining you. “You’re already squirming.”
Your breath came out shakier than you wanted. “You’re—”
Before you could finish, she leaned in, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your throat. Her lips were warm, her breath soft, and when her teeth scraped lightly against your skin, your fingers flexed against her hips.
Shoko grinned against your neck.
“Poor thing,” she coos, tilting her head. “You look so flustered. Should I slow down?”
You open your mouth probably to tell her no. you want more but before you can even form a thought, she moves, rolling her hips against yours with slow, deliberate pressure. Your breath stutters, hands instinctively flying to her thighs, and that makes her chuckle.
“Oh? Finally touching me?” Her voice is dripping with amusement as she leans in, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your neck. “I thought you were trying to behave.”
Her hands slip beneath your hoodie, nails dragging up your stomach, featherlight and teasing. “You’re always so cute when you try to pretend you have self control.”
You squeeze her thighs in warning, and she only laughs, pressing her lips to your ear.
“Yeah?” she hums, shifting against you again, this time with purpose. “Then show me, sweetheart.”
Her hands slid under your hoodie, fingers trailing up your stomach, slow and teasing, tracing along your ribs like she was in no rush at all. And that was the worst part. She was not. She was taking her time, dragging out every touch, every little movement, just to watch you react.
“Shoko,” you exhaled, tilting your head back as she kissed a slow path down to your collarbone.
“Mm?” she hummed, like she was not the reason your pulse was racing.
You tightened your grip on her hips, trying to regain even a little bit of control, but she just laughed, low and knowing, before rolling her hips against yours again.
This time, you whimpered.
And god, that did something to her.
“Fuck,” she muttered, her voice dipping into something rough, something dangerous. She pulled back just enough to look at you, her eyes dark, lips parted. “You sound so pretty when you do that.”
Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you bit your lip, but Shoko just grinned, dragging her fingers down to the waistband of your pajama pants, toying with the fabric.
“You gonna be good for me?” she murmured, hooking her fingers just under the hem and tugging, just a little.
Your breath stuttered. “Yes.”
She hummed, pressing her lips just below your ear, her voice a little too pleased.
“Then let’s get these off, sweetheart.”