Library of my fantasies.

The untouched make-believe of a writer.

[luminialib]

𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒆, 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒓

This is a side blog, its sole purpose is for me to post my fic recs, manga, manhwa/manhua, novels, and books. Follow @jeanette-luminia for writings.

BEWARE: There is some NSFW content here.

Tags:

🍥: fic recs

🔖:reads

[kxsagi]

“𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝”

a/n: i can imagine him staring at you like that one lego meme and true by spandau ballet just starts playing in his head. 

ac goes to chanooartz

synopsis: nagumo’s strong goofball ass has never understood why his good friend taro sakamoto settled down to marry his wife and have a kid. assassins lived dangerous lives that put both their life at risk and their loved ones' lives at risk all the time. but when he meets you, a flower shop owner, suddenly... it all makes sense. 

the first time yoichi nagumo understood taro sakamoto, he was crouched behind a display of hydrangeas while three assassins sprinted past your flower shop window. 

he'd only ducked inside because it was the closest building. thirty seconds. that was the plan. hide. wait. leave. easy. 

but then he looked up. and his whole plan fell apart. 

you were standing behind the counter, sleeves rolled up, carefully wrapping paper around a bouquet with pure concentration. sunlight spilled through the front windows and caught in your hair. there was a tiny smudge of dirt on your neck. 

nagumo stared. and stared. and stared. 

what was this? he'd met world leaders. serial killers. legendary assassins. he'd survived explosions. so why was a florist making him forget how to function? 

eventually you glanced up. "can i help you?" 

nagumo's brain immediately abandoned him. "uh." 

"?” 

"do flowers… die?" 

you blinked. "eventually…?" 

"huh." he nodded seriously. "interesting." 

what. WHAT KIND OF QUESTION WAS THAT? 

internally, he wanted to throw himself into traffic. you looked just as confused as he felt. 

yet somehow, he ended up buying a bouquet despite having absolutely no use for flowers. 

you rung him up with a smile. "for your girlfriend?" 

"don't have one." 

"boyfriend?" 

"don't have one of those either." 

you hummed. "wow. that's unfortunate." 

nagumo stared. you just turned around and continued arranging flowers. unaware that somewhere deep inside his chest, something exploded. 

unfortunate? UNFORTUNATE??? 

he walked home carrying a bouquet he'd bought with his own money, replaying the conversation over and over. so he did the only thing that he could think of was right to do in the moment: he called sakamoto. 

"hey, taro." 

"what do you want." 

"hypothetically." 

"no." 

"i haven't asked yet!" 

"no." 

sakamoto hung up. 

the next morning, he found himself standing outside your flower shop before it even opened. he stared at the door. stared some more. then finally walked inside when the sign flipped. 

you looked up from the counter. "oh, you're back." 

"yeah." 

"did the flowers die already?" 

nagumo nearly choked. you were funny. that wasn't fair. 

"no," he said. "i just wanted another bouquet." 

you eyed him suspiciously. "you know flowers last longer than 24 hours, right?" 

"do they?" 

"yes." 

"huh." he nodded thoughtfully. "interesting." 

you laughed. and nagumo felt something strange settle into place. 

for the first time in his life, he understood. it wasn't logical. it wasn't safe. it definitely wasn't practical. assassins lived dangerous lives. people like him shouldn't get attached. 

and yet. 

standing there listening to you laugh at his terrible acting, he suddenly understood why sakamoto had given everything up. why he'd chosen one person over the entire world. 

because if someone looked at nagumo and smiled like that every day? yeah. he'd probably do something stupid like retire, too. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[freakynad]

❛ ONCE UPON A DREAM ❜ featuring knight nanami kento

೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 CONTENT .ᐟ fluff, historical inaccuracy probably, kento is inlove with you but….. hes a man of principle.

it started with lingering stares across the room.

often, nanami would find his gaze drifting toward the princess, you, and you caught on quickly. you’d look back, unafraid, a daring little smile playing on your lips that made him flustered beneath all that armor, warmth blooming where it shouldn’t. not that you could tell, his face was always hidden.

those glances turned into secret meetings in the gardens, when the rest of the castle had long gone quiet.

as you walked barefoot through the grass, it rustled beneath your feet, the breeze brushing soft against your skin. you could hear the heavier steps behind you. measured and controlled.

nanami.

he kept a few paces back, as you’d requested. you’d asked him to walk with you for “protection,” though you both knew that was an excuse.

he agreed anyway.

suddenly, you stopped walking. he slowed immediately, instinctively, not wanting to crowd you. you turned with a soft smile that made his heart beat faster beneath the layers of steel.

you turned to face him, a smile already tugging at your lips. “why so far?” you asked softly. “i don’t bite.”

he hesitated. “of course, your highness.” he muttered, taking a few steps closer before stopping again.

you tilted your head, the smile fading just enough to make him nervous.

you hummed. “you know… i thought you’d be more daring.”

his breath hitched. “sorry?” he asked, flexing his fingers, nerves showing in the tiniest twitch of his gloved hands.

you stepped toward him, closer. too close by royal standards. your father would be furious.

your hands moved up slowly, unfastening the strap at his chin, and with ease, you lifted the helmet off. his face was flushed, maybe from the heat, maybe from how close you were.

“your highness…” he breathed, voice rough.

you chuckled softly. “you’re just as handsome as i imagined.”

then, without warning, your hands found his face, warm palms against his flushed cheeks, and you leaned in, pressing a delicate kiss to the corner of his lips. it was reckless, too exposed.

he froze. blinking. as if trying to process it. as if he didn’t believe it had happened.

“you shouldn’t deny a princess,” you whispered, brushing your fingers against his. “not when you want her just as badly. i know you enough, kento.”

your fingers slipped between his, and his hand gripped yours like he’d lose you if he let go.

“princess…” he started, swallowing. a silence settled, thick with everything unsaid.

then “…damn the consequences.” he pulled you in.

and when his lips met yours, it wasn’t hesitant. it wasn’t rushed, it was steady, sure, like a promise.. like something holy.

[foryuiwill]

Your stoic, methodical Nanami never cries.

You knew that already. You memorized his tells.

You knew when work was stressing him, he would simply pinch the bridge of his nose, tuck his chin near his chest, adjust his glasses, and straighten the tie that didn’t need fixing. And whenever the world was weighing on him, he would bury his pain into a ferocious bite in a delicious pastry at his favorite bakery.

But nope, you never saw a tear. He simply never cries, you believed.

That is until the heavy doors of the venue swung open.

As you stepped into the view, you could hear the entire room catch their breath in awe. There were friends, family, coworkers, and you could even hear the proud hums from them, as well as the gasping. But once your eyes averted from the flowers in your hands to meet Nanami’s eyes, you realized no one had seemed to lose it completely like Nanami.

Instead of merely adjusting his glasses, his trembling hands removed them, pressing his hands to his beet-reddened face. The tears that you swore were dry pellets in his system that didn’t budge, were wet streams down his cheeks and unstoppable.

Oh boy, and as you drew closer, he covered his mouth, desperately muffling the sob that wanted to praise you; that wanted to worship how beautifully the dress accentuated every curve in your body; that wanted to tell you how your curls complimented your face, and just how lucky he was.

But just like the very best best man should, Yu had completed the words Nanami couldn’t.

“I told you she was going to break you man,” he exclaimed, handing Nanami the handkerchief from his suit pocket into his shaky hands. “Look at her! You’re the luckiest guy alive.” He cheered, rubbing his back and gazing at you.

When your feet brought you to the altar, stopping right in front of him, your heart thumped at how completely undone he looked. His eyes, still welled with tears, were almost puffy. His hair that were slicked sharply when you first entered, had a couple strands that fell to his forehead.

He pulled his glasses to his face, lenses fogging up immediately from the heat. He swallowed hard and took your hands in his. Gentle, as always. The trembling had faded under your touch.

“Kento,” you whispered, smile at your lips.

He looked into your eyes at the sweet call of his name from your voice, breath shaky once he stared into yours.

“I am indeed, the luckiest man in the world.”

a/n: thought of this when thinking about the idea of my bf not crying at the sight of me at our wedding like boy i will turn around and keep walking out until you do.

taglist: @tengensbigtiddies @nanamisleftbuttcrack

[luminialib]

Oh lord. This is my man right here.

[cupimoonds]

#0. i miss you, wife.

— emails with nanami: the company's finance department head, your co-worker, and also your "professionally" clingy husband.

no proofread ( > . < )

masterlist.

[email protected]

Deadline of the Final Draft for Project A

8:35 AM

Dearest Y/n,

Before you start: Yes, I know that it is currently 8:35 in the morning. I am also aware that you had just clocked in 30 minutes ago. However, I do need the final draft for Project A within 25 minutes.

If you want an extension, I'm afraid it isn't possible. The secretary would like this done at 9:00, therefore, my hands are tied.

You may enter the office without knocking, as you always do. Have the printed copy prepared.

Yours,

Nanami Kento

[email protected]

Final Draft for Project A

8:55 AM

Dear Kento,

I got a small heart attack due to this sudden notice, before I realized that I had already accomplished this task yesterday, during our OT. (overtime)

The printed copy is in the 2nd drawer of your desk. The soft copy is provided below, just in case.

You no longer need to fret about getting scolded by the secretary at 9 in the morning. Lucky you. It's a good thing you have me around. :)

Sincerely Yours,

Wifey

P.S. Don't forget to eat your breakfast. I packed a sandwich for you in your lunch bag. ❤️

-> Final Draft_Project A.pdf

[email protected]

Thank you, Wife

9:00 AM

Dearest,

I appreciate you in ways words could never express. What a coincidence it is, that I am currently famished. You know me all too well.

I ordered a latte for you. It will be brought to your table in approximately 15 minutes. I understand that you cannot focus without your morning coffee. Haha.

Also, please refrain from using emojis in emails. It is quite unprofessional. Remember, that although the higher-ups do not mind: it is best to remain as formal as possible.

Yours,

Nanami Kento

[email protected]

No Subject Heading

9:05 AM

Kento,

Do not lecture me about formality. It is rather hypocritical. 😒

We have long since transcended mere professional ties.

In fact, we are already married. If you do not believe that our connection is already quite deep, you may sleep by yourself tonight.

Also, Gojo couldn't care less about the way we converse through emails. He is blissfully prideful in the fact that he and his husband are far worse.

Thank you for the latte. As always.

Y/n

[email protected]

My Lovely Wife

9:08 AM

Apologies, My Love

You are right. I should not have said something so painfully idiotic. My wife is the only woman who I'd talk to this way—work hours or not.

I beg of you to not make me sleep in the guest bedroom. My heart aches at the thought of being away from you. I'm afraid I would not be able to sleep, unless you are safe in my arms.

Would you still like to have lunch with me? If not, I will give you space. I can sit at the next table closest to you and simply stare, yearning to share a meal with the woman of my dreams.

If yes, then I'd be a very happy man. I cannot wait to taste the lunch you packed for me. 😄

Yours for Eternity,

Nanami Kento

[email protected]

No Subject Heading

9:12 AM

We will still have lunch together.

I will think about whether or not I will banish you to the guest bedroom.

For a man seemingly so stoic, you are incredibly dramatic with your words. 🙄

Whatever,

Your Wife

[email protected]

Urgent!

9:14 AM

My Beloved Wife,

I miss you dearly. I find it extremely difficult to remain patient, knowing that you are 4 corridors away, sulking in that uncomfortable chair.

Please sulk next to me. After all, I am the one who got you upset. Allow me to make up for it. You deserve to be pampered, treasured; and I apologize for my lack of better judgement, alongside my incapability to distinguish the special privileges I should bestow upon my wife.

If it were anyone else to use emojis and informal language while emailing me, I would have scolded them fervently. Only my darling wife is exempt from such treatment. As you should be.

Much tender love and care,

Your Husband

[email protected]

Do Not Misuse Urgent Tags.

9:17 AM

Husband,

I will ignore the email that blatantly states your favoritism towards me.

Focus on your work. Do not email me unless it is for important matters, until lunch time.

Love lots,

Your Wife

-> [email protected] reacted 😢 to this email.

[choivae]

ᝰ.ᐟ nanami with a girlfriend who has sensitive thighs ⸝⸝ 18+ mdni

bf!nanami is a man of physical habit, when you two are winding down on the couch after his long shift—his heavy, warm hand naturally finds a home on your thigh. the first time it happens, he’s just reading the paper, but he feels the immediate, rigid tension in your muscles.

he casually glances over, assuming you’re just caught off guard or feeling a bit shy. "are you cold?" he asks, his deep voice slicing through the quiet room. when you quickly shake your head, he simply pats your knee and shrugs it off, returning to his reading, though his observant mind notes the slight tremor in your frame.

bf!nanami who starts getting genuinely suspicious after the third or fourth time. it doesn't matter if his touch is a passive weight or a gentle, absentminded caress through your sweatpants—your breath hitches every single time. he notices the way your toes curl, the subtle shiver that runs up your spine, and the way you try to casually shift away from his reach.

nanami is nothing if not analytical; he knows compliance versus involuntary reaction, and you are definitely hiding something. he begins to purposely linger his touch, tracing the seam of your pants just to watch your eyelashes flutter and your lips part in a silent gasp.

bf!nanami decides to test his hypothesis on a rainy saturday afternoon. you're both cuddled up, your guard completely down as you watch a movie. without a word or a shift in his stoic expression, his large hand slides up your inner thigh and delivers a sudden, firm squeeze.

bf!nanami watches you gasp, a high, completely involuntary sound escaping your throat—a sharp, needy little squeak that cuts off the moment you realize what you've done. "oh? and what exactly was that noise for?" your hands fly to grip his wrist, trying to pull his hand away, but he doesn't let go.

instead, a slow, incredibly rare, and distinctly smug smirk pulls at the corner of his lips. he looks down at you through his glasses, thoroughly amused by your bright red face. "i don't recall the movie being quite that exciting," he drawls, his fingers sinking deeper into the soft flesh.

bf!nanami who is a little bit mean about it, but in the most intoxicating way possible. he deliberately applies just a fraction more pressure, kneading the sensitive muscle with his broad palm and watching you squirm helplessly against him. "i didn't realize a simple touch could reduce you to this," he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave, thick with a gravelly warmth that tells you he finds this incredibly hot.

he teases you relentlessly, leaning down so his lips brush your burning ear. "look at me. tell me why you're trembling so much just from my hand. if you don't answer, i'll just have to keep squeezing until you do." he refuses to let you look away until you confess just how sensitive your thighs actually are.

bf!nanami who likes to abuse this newfound knowledge at every single opportunity, especially when he wants to fluster you in public. if you're out at a quiet restaurant, his hand will slide under the tablecloth, his fingers mapping out the soft skin of your thighs.

he loves watching you try to maintain a straight face while ordering food, your fingers white-knuckling the menu because he's lightly scratching the apex of your thigh. when you catch his eye, pleading with him silently, he just takes a calm sip of his wine and whispers, "focus on the waiter, sweetheart. tell him what you want to eat."

bf!nanami turns into an absolute menace behind closed doors. during sex, your thighs become his absolute favorite target. he likes to pin your legs wide apart, his heavy palms bruising your hips before sliding down to grip your thighs with enough force to leave faint, temporary marks.

he loves to deeply knead the ultra-sensitive skin right where your leg meets your hip, watching your back arch off the bed as you let out a ragged sob. "look at how flushed you get here," he grunts, his thumb pressing firmly into the sweet spot, relishing the way your thighs clamp around his waist in a desperate bid for relief.

bf!nanami who pairs his heavy-handed groping with sensory overload. while he’s driving himself into you, he’ll lean down to bite and press open-mouthed kisses against your inner thighs, deliberately targeting the spots that make your hips stutter-step and bring a sob to your throat.

he loves the contrast of his rough, calloused hands soothing over the ultra-sensitive skin, murmuring praises against your neck while ensuring you can't think about anything else but his touch.

he'll deliberately slow his pace just to focus entirely on your thighs, sinking his teeth into the soft skin until you're completely undone. "good girl," he rumbles against your skin, "let me hear you make that sound again."

[strawb3rryhachi]

i love the idea of Nanami being so moral. Such a pencil pusher. A rule follower. And just absolutely corrupting him.

“What was that, Ken? I couldn’t hear you.” Your smile reaches your eyes, but not your mouth as you watch him writhe in front of you.

“Please, touch me. Need to— fuck— feel you.” His plea’s are muffled, your panties stuffed meanly in his maw. Your heart sings at his curses, knowing just a few months ago he wouldn’t utter more than a ‘damn’ in front of you.

“Oh, but you look so pretty like this.” You coo, letting your pointer finger trace along his muscular shoulders as you circle him like an animal waiting to strike its prey. “So desperate and needy f’me.”

And Nanami feels like he might die, feels like maybe he did and ascended to his own personal heaven. Being led around by his cock by the woman he loves and being denied pleasure by her. He couldn’t think of a better salvation, which only signals the beginning of your twisted love affair.

[nanamizelo]

ramble, sub nanami kento, minors dni

i feel like sub nanami is so underrated as a concept. just the idea of an exhausted wall of muscle coming home, posture slouched compared to his normal poise and crumbling at your feet; just desperate to be near you.

him being too tired to have sex with you, but still being pent up and still wanting to please you, begging you to use him as you want whilst at the same time pleading you to make him feel good.

his glasses sliding down his nose as you ride him while he lets out little noises he'd usually restrain himself from making, simply losing all composure and his mind just being you, you, you.

him cumming and hiding his face in your neck, mumbling soft sleepy 'thank you's and 'love you's, his mouth moving against your slightly sweaty skin, the heat of your body accompanied by the heat of his breath.

you combing your hands through his hair to help him fall asleep since he needs to take a break so badly.. he works himself to the bone to give you a comfortable life, taking care of him like this in return is a pleasure. in more ways than one.

a/n: pushing my sub nanami kento agenda. also first post, yay ! >_<

[luminialib]

Y'all making him dom everytime. He's a sub. Just look at him.

[lostinsmut]

｡𖦹°‧ nanamis pretty girl has stomach pain):

pairing fluff - nanami x reader w stomach pain

"baby? are you okay?" nanami softly stepped into the dark lit bedroom where you slept curled up in a ball your stomach again aching for some unknown reason. "hon?" all he got in return was a soft groan.

"c-can you.. get.. heatpack?" you softly mumbled into the mattress where you're head laid at the same level as your body.

you had no protest left in you to shift. you were more then relieved when nanami finally got home from work especially knowing that now, five minutes later he stepped in with a filled heatpack.

you heard nothing but the side footsteps of your husband approaching the bed.

his shallow steady breathing as he took his clothes off. his belt making a noise as he buckled it off.

the sound of his clothes dropping to the floor was the last before he softly shushed your groans and scooped you up into his arms. "shh, sh. i know it's horrible.." he whispered his hands dragging through your hair as he softly tangled you between his limbs.

the hot water bottle now on your stomach but also ontop of his with the way he had you laying onto of him. your face in his neck where you let out soft comforted moans.

"hurts so bad.." you whispered finally feeling relief in your boyfriends arms. it was all that helped. his strong arms keeping you safe as you felt yourself being sucked away by the deep pit of pain in your stomach.

every once in a while sending those painful stabs up into your ribs. nanami soothingly rubbed your back. "i know baby.. close your eyes for me. imagine us on the beach, a nice sunny day. your boyfriends extra handsome in the sun." he tried making you smile, he felt it in his neck once you did. "the sand between your toes, no stomach ache only a hmmm, a chocolate ice cream? with a waffle obviously." you closed your eyes imagining the scene as you softly dozed off.

he softly rocked you back and forth letting you be taken by sleep. "such a sweet girl in so much pain, life is unfair ... i'd take it in a heartbeat sweetheart.." he sighed softly smelling your hair.

the only comfort he had right now was that you were safe in his arms from being hurt any more. he knew his body heat helped, his scent. the way he woke up in the middle of the night to give you water when you woke up with a dry mouth but couldn't move from the ache in your stomach.

he stayed awake for an hour softly humming you into a deep comforting sleep where he knew you wouldn't feel the pain for a couple hours until you woke up to pee or drink.

but nanami didn't mind waking up to get you water or to carry you to the toilet at midnight, his pretty girl had stomach issues and all he wanted to do was make it better..):

nanami fluff always makes me feel better when i have a stomach ache T.T i am girl with tummy issues she is me //not proofread

dividers > @uzmacchiato

taglist 🔖

@sugusplaything @notsoslightlysexual

[luminialib]

I needed this after this horrible period I am in.

[nanamizelo]

thinking thoughts about nanami, minors dni

thinking about people assuming nanami is always the dominant one in the relationship given his character and his build and both of you knowing that’s nowhere close to the truth.

thinking about pulling nanami by his tie to tease him, but instead of him putting you in your place he falls to his knees and presses his head against your thighs, staring up at you with watery eyes.

thinking about nanami plopping his head into your lap when you’re watching tv, making approving noises as you play with his hair; somewhat akin to a pleased cat.

thinking about getting ready on a saturday morning while nanami watches you, still in bed. being able to feel his gaze and practically see the hearts in his eyes via the reflection of the mirror you’re stood in front of.

thinking about nanami getting you an expensive outfit for one of your anniversaries, making you keep it on later that night while he’s completely bare, his dick throbbing in your hand. him getting off on the idea of providing for you. that, and simply how good you look in the outfit.

thinking about bathing with nanami afterwards, peppering kisses all over his neck, making sure not to leave any hickeys. you wouldn’t want to break the illusion he gives off, right? it’s more fun when it’s a secret between the two of you.

thinking about nanami making you breakfast the next morning as a ‘thank you’ for taking care of him. (shirtless with an apron on, of course)

thinking about nanami.. ♡

[luminialib]

HE'S A DAMN SUB AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL.

[hidingwhere]

⋆˚✿˖° Insecure older!Nanami

“Give me five minutes, darling,” Kento huffed out, cheeks pink and hair dishevelled as he rolls over onto his back, catching his breath. You grin, shuffling onto his chest and pressing kisses along his jaw. You were still so full of energy, youthful and ready for round three before round two had even ended.

The five minutes he asked for soon turned into ten minutes, which turned into fifteen, which turned into watching an episode of your favourite show in between rounds.

Nanami noticed; of course he did. The man was one of the most observant you’d ever met. His movements were slower, thrusts turning sloppy and weaker quicker than normal. The thoughts slipped out one night, lights low as he slowly pushed his cock inside you. He came with a groan, and then a mumbled “I’m so sorry baby, don’t have as much stamina anymore, wanna’ make you feel good but I can’t.”

His head tilts and rests against your forehead, movements stopping and releasing a little breath. Then, a heavy silence washes over the two of you.

“Kenny,” you coo, one hand cupping his cheek. “I don’t care that have less stamina. It doesn’t affect my pleasure at all and you’re silly to think that.”

He huffs. “I know you want more. I can’t give that to you.”

You tut. “Ken, don’t be stupid. I enjoy this whether it’s one or six rounds. It doesn’t matter to me. It never did and never will.”

Sure, the two of you had always been used to going at it for hours, rough and animalistic, but you’d easily give that up for Nanami’s happiness. However, insecurities crept in quickly. It was obvious in the way your husband moved more hesitantly when getting intimate, the way he trembled slightly when you unbuckled his belt.

Redness bloomed across his cheeks, more evident than ever before, when you flipped him over onto his back, chasing the pleasure you needed. You slammed yourself down onto his pulsing cock, thighs trembling from the pleasurable stretch. Jaw hung open, rough hands on your hips, you blabbered and moaned out jumbled words of praise at your fucked out husband who was trying to match your fast thrusts.

“Thank you, thankyouthankyouthankyou, you’re so good to me, -ngh-, your cock feels soso good,” you rambled.

Nanami followed your garbled sentence with one of his own. “Darling, yeah -nghh- use me, baby. Use me wherever, whenever. Use me always, love you so -fuck- so much, sweetheart. Fuck, you feel amazing, take what you need.”

Ever since, he’s woken up with you taking exactly what you need.

[polaroidsex]

★ . . “don’t leave me.” mid-makeout with ex husband!nanami.

you sink down onto him slow, thighs trembling as his thick cock stretches you open inch by inch.

nanami’s hands grip your hips hard enough to leave marks, breath ragged against your mouth while you settle fully in his lap. the bedroom is dim, just the low lamp casting gold across his bare chest and the way sweat already beads at his collarbone.

he kisses you like he’s starving, tongue sliding deep, tasting every soft sound you make. your fingers thread through his blond hair, tugging lightly as you start to roll your hips, riding him with that slow grind that makes his thighs tense beneath you. wet sounds fill the room each time you lift and drop, slick coating his length and dripping down to his balls.

“fuck,” he murmurs into your lips, voice hoarse and wrecked.

one hand slides up your back, pressing you closer until your breasts crush against him. his other hand stays on your ass, guiding you, helping you bounce a little faster. every drag of his cock inside you hits that spot that makes your toes curl.

you lean in to kiss him deeper, tongues tangled, breaths shared hot and messy. his hips buck up to meet you, driving himself even deeper. that’s when he breaks the kiss just enough to pant against your mouth, forehead pressed to yours, eyes half-lidded and desperate.

“don’t leave me again,” he whispers, the words raw and trembling right there in the middle of it all. his voice cracks just a little on the last syllable, like the thought alone hurts. he pulls you back into the kiss before you can answer, hungrier now, teeth grazing your bottom lip as he thrusts up harder.

you ride him through it, clenching around his cock with every rise and fall, skin slapping softly together. his hands roam like he can’t get enough of you, palms mapping your waist, your ribs, the curve of your spine. he groans low when you grind down and circle your hips, milking him just right.

“need you here,” he breathes between kisses, “right here with me.” his thrusts grow erratic, chasing that edge while you keep riding him steady, lost in the heat of his body and the way he holds onto you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

[mia-hearts-gumi]

𐙚⋆°｡ husband!nanami with a breeding kink ₊˚⊹ᰔ

Nanami had you pinned to the bed the second he got home from work, tie still half-loosened around his neck. “I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he murmured against your throat, voice low and rough. His hands were already under your shirt, pushing it up, palms warm and possessive. “My wife. Home. Waiting for me.”

He stripped you methodically — the same careful, deliberate way he did everything — but the second your panties hit the floor his control cracked. He spread your thighs wide, eyes dark behind his glasses as he looked at how wet you already were for him.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You want it too, don’t you? Want me to put a baby in you.”

You barely had time to answer before he was inside you — thick, deep, filling you in one smooth thrust. Nanami groaned, forehead pressed to yours, hips already rolling in that steady, relentless rhythm he knew drove you insane.

“Gonna breed you tonight,” he said, each word punctuated by a deep thrust. “Over and over until it takes. Until you’re swollen with my child.” His hand slid down, fingers pressing firmly over your lower belly like he was already claiming the space. “Right here. I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

He hooked your legs over his shoulders, folding you open, and fucked you harder. The headboard thumped against the wall. Every thrust was purposeful, bottoming out, grinding against your cervix like he was trying to push his cum straight into your womb.

Nanami’s usual composure was gone. His tie dangled between you, brushing your skin as he leaned down and growled in your ear.

“Tell me you want it. Tell me you want me to breed this pretty cunt full.”

When you moaned the words back, he lost it. His pace turned punishing — sharp, deep strokes that made you see stars. One hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise while the other rubbed tight circles over your clit.

“Come for me,” he ordered, voice strained. “Milk me dry. I’m not pulling out.”

You came hard, clenching around him, and Nanami followed with a low, broken groan. He buried himself to the hilt and stayed there, pulsing thick and hot inside you. He didn’t pull out. Instead he rocked his hips in slow, shallow thrusts, pushing every drop deeper.

“Stay still,” he panted, still hard. “I’m not done. We’re doing this again. And again. Until I’m sure it took.”

He kissed your stomach softly, almost reverent, even as his cock twitched inside you, already getting ready for round two.

“Gonna keep you full every night, sweetheart. You’re going to be such a beautiful mother.”

[rllyobsessedgirlie]

Fratjo breaks up with you and instantly regrets it — series

Part 2B: Replaced

The invitation sits unopened in Satoru’s backpack for a while.

He only notices it because he’s digging around for a missing assignment after practice and the pink-colored card slips free, landing on the floor of his dorm.

For a second he just stares at it. Then he remembers.

You had handed it to him almost three months ago outside the student center. When you were still together.

You’d looked nervous, a little excited.

“Will you come?” you’d asked, fidgeting with your fingers.

Satoru had been halfway through answering a text from a teammate. “Come to what?”

“My art showcase.” He remembers the way your face lit up when you started explaining it.

How the department had chosen student projects and everyone would have their own display section if they qualified.

At the time he’d barely listened, but now; he somehow remembers.

He’d kissed your forehead and promised he’d try. Then he’d forgotten about it almost immediately.

The memory makes his stomach twist because he never went.The guys wanted to celebrate a win and he forgot to text you.

What he hadn’t realized then, was there were two dates on the invitation. A voting stage, which had passed; and the winners event, which was tonight.

An annual exhibition, open to the public. After a quick search on the university website, he found a list of featured artists.

To his surprise your name was first on the list.

To Gojo, this was another great opportunity to get back into your life after you shunned him.

But his irritation quickly rises when he looks down the list and recognizes another name. “Choso Kamo.”

Maybe because he’s heard it too often lately. Every time someone mentions you recently, Choso’s name seems to follow.

He shoves the invitation back into his bag and by seven o’clock he’s standing outside the gallery.

He tells himself he’s only here because Suguru mentioned there would be free food and drinks. What a terrible lie.

——-

The building is crowded when he walks in. Students drift between exhibits; holding glasses of wine and tiny paper plates stacked with appetizers.

Soft music sets the quiet atmosphere, nothing like a fraternity party or a football game.

He almost leaves, but then he sees you… and everything else disappears.

You’re standing near the center of the room beside a display table; smiling at something a professor says.

You’re wearing the same expression you used to wear whenever you talked about something you loved.

The same expression he’d spent so much time ignoring.

For a moment he just watches. Then his eyes drift to the display behind you.

The breath leaves his lungs. The entire section belongs to you. Dozens of pieces carefully arranged across the wall. Some are landscapes. Others are portraits.

He didn’t know you were this talented. The realization causes a dull ache; not because you kept it from him, you tried to show him over and over.

He remembers you asking if he’d look through your portfolio. He remembers promising to look at it, and never getting around to it.

A group gathers around your display asking about your inspiration and advice. You begin explaining one of the photographs, a proud look on your face.

Satoru suddenly felt sick; because all those years you were talking to him about this exact stuff.

And most of the time he’d been checking football scores under the table.

The shame settles heavily in his chest. Then someone appears beside you.

Choso.

Satoru recognizes him immediately.

Tall. Dark-haired. The kind of guy who manages to look effortlessly cool without trying.

You glance at him and smile like there was more to be said.

Satoru hates how much that bothers him.

Choso leans down and whispers something only for you, and your laugh carries throughout the room.

And suddenly Satoru remembers every time you’d laughed like that with him.

Every late-night drive. Every movie marathon. Every stupid joke.

Back when making you happy had felt effortless, before he’d gotten comfortable. Before he assumed you’d always be there.

A professor approaches Choso’s display nearby.

Satoru follows a crowd without thinking. At first he only intends to glance at it.

Then he stops.

The entire section is incredible. Large paintings cover the walls. Sketches. Mixed media pieces.

Months of work displayed under bright gallery lights.

People keep stopping to compliment them. Choso accepts every compliment with an awkward smile but somehow redirects every compliment to you.

“Y/n actually helped me choose that one.”

“She stayed up until three helping me finish that display.”

“I almost scrapped this project, but she talked me out of it.”

Every comment feels like another knife.

Because Choso isn’t bragging. He isn’t trying to make Gojo jealous. He didn’t even realize he was there.

If anything, he seems genuinely grateful.

And Satoru remembers what it felt like when you used to support him like that.

You attended every game and made arrangements to come to away games. You learned the rules, listened to him complain after losses, celebrated wins like they were your own.

You built entire weekends around supporting him.

And he can’t remember attending a single thing that mattered to you.

Not one.

The realization follows him through the rest of the evening.

Everywhere he looks, there are reminders. Evidence of an entire world he’d never bothered to learn about.

Eventually he finds himself standing in front of one photograph longer than the others.

A nighttime campus scene.

Soft lights reflected across rain-soaked pavement.

Beautiful. Quiet. Lonely.

The title card beneath it catches his attention. The date listed underneath makes his stomach drop. He knows that date.

You took this photograph the night of one of his championship games. The same night you’d asked him to come with you afterward.

The same night he’d blown you off for a party.

You’d gone alone and taken this photo, creating something beautiful out of something painful.

For the first time all evening, Satoru leaves the gallery overwhelmed.

People continue filtering in through the entrance behind him.

Inside, through the glass windows, he can still see you surrounded by people who appreciate what you create.

And suddenly he understands something.

He’d spent months convincing himself that the breakup happened because football demanded too much of him.

Standing here now, none of those excuses survive.

The truth is much simpler; you had spent years showing him exactly who you were, inviting him into your world.

And every time he’d treated them like something he could look at later.

Now someone else knows your favorite projects. Someone else knows your dreams. Someone else gets to stand beside you on the nights that matter.

Satoru stays outside until the gallery closes.

He watches you leave through the front doors surrounded by friends, arms hooked with Choso. Your head leaning on him, accompanied by the widest grin possible.

And for the first time since the breakup, he doesn’t feel angry or jealous, just devastated.

Dividers by: @strangergraphics

[rllyobsessedgirlie]

Fratjo breaks up with you and instantly regrets it — series

The apology

The fourth letter never gets delivered because Satoru Gojo finally snaps after you had disregarded his attempt to speak to you.

The rain was heavier than when he saw you this afternoon, the kind that soaks through his sweatshirt and drips from his eyelashes.

The dorm lady is halfway through her crossword when he runs past the front desk.

“Hey—”

She was too late. He’s already taking the stairs two at a time.

By the time he reaches your floor, his chest is heaving, his hands are shaking. Not from the cold, but from fear.

Because for the first time since he broke up with you, he realizes something awful.

You might actually never forgive him.

The thought hits harder than any linebacker ever has.

So he pounds on your door.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Loud enough that doors start opening up and down the hallway. Girls peek their heads out, mouths open with shock.

“Is that Gojo?”

“No way.”

The football star doesn’t care.

He bangs again. “Please.”

His voice cracks. “Please open the door.”

Silence.

Then he hears the lock click.

The door opens painfully slow, but there you are. Swearpants… and is that his oversized hoodie? Did you miss him ?

The look on your face said otherwise. He had never seen this look directed at him before. Was it indifference? Was it annoyance?

God it hurt.

For a second neither of you speak.

Then your eyes flick down to where he’s standing. He was drenched, a puddle of water forming at his shoes. His eyes were red, he looked miserable. Pathetic even.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice is flat.

Gojo swallows. “I just need five minutes.”

“No.”

The door starts closing.

His hand catches it, “please.” His voice breaks again.

You freeze.

The hallway has gotten noticeably quieter.

Everyone is watching you. He knows they are and for once he doesn’t care what people think of him.

“I know you don’t want to see me.”

“Then leave,” you said sternly.

“I can’t.” His eyes are already shining. “I tried leaving.”

Your expression falters, just barely.

“I tried giving you space.” A broken laugh escapes him. “Apparently I can’t do that either.”

The girls down the hall are openly staring now, some are getting closer to hear the conversation. Others are pulling out their phones too, recording.

You notice, your jaw tightens and that annoyed look returns.

Gojo notices too.

And maybe that’s the thing that finally breaks him, he thinks you’re going to shut the door on him again.

So he does the unimaginable, and drops straight to his knees.

The hallway erupts. Gasps, whispers, and chuckles.

“Oh my God.”

“That’s embarrassing.”

“Is he crying?”

And he is. Rainwater and tears mixed together. He doesn’t care how humiliated and embarrassing he looks. Nothing matters anymore.

“Gojo—”

“No.”

He grabs your wrist desperately before you can pull away.“Please.”

The word comes out shattered. “Please just hear me out.”

Your eyes widen.

He’s never looked like this. Not the cocky quarterback, the football hero.

Right now he’s just your Satoru.

“Get inside,” you whisper. “You’ve embarrassed yourself enough.” He follows your eyes to the girls in your dorm hall. Judging, laughing, mouths wide open, in awe at his behaviour.

And to that, he scurries into your dorm room, tripping and falling back onto his knees. He stays there, because frankly he doesn’t have it in him to face you head on.

Silence follows, because he really didn’t expect you to give him the time of day. He hadn’t planned this far.

“I messed up.” His voice trembles.

You stare.

Gojo’s head drops; and before he can stop himself, his arms wrap around your legs. Holding on like you’re the only thing keeping him upright.

Which, honestly, might be true. He can feel his face burning; but he doesn’t let go.

You don’t shrug him off, and god does this contact he’s having with you feel comforting. It’s the first time he has touched you in two months. Tears prick his eyes again, as he nuzzles his head into your legs.

“I was wrong.” The words come muffled against sweatpants.

“I was so wrong.”

“Satoru.”

“No.” His grip tightens.

“I thought I was doing the right thing.” Another shaky breath.

“I thought if I focused on football everything would work out.” He laughs bitterly.

“Turns out I was just an idiot.”

Your chest aches despite the hate you felt for him after the break up. This isn’t the Satoru who broke your heart.

This is one who can’t even look at you. The one shaking like he’s terrified you’ll disappear again.

“I miss you.” His voice is barely audible.

“I miss talking to you.” A tear slides down his cheek.

“I miss hearing about your classes.”

“I miss getting you sugary coffee in the morning.”

“I miss annoying you in the library and I miss you trying to help me study.”

You blink.

For the first time in months, a tiny smile almost appears.

Gojo notices, an his eyes immediately fill with hope.

“I love you…I never stopped loving you. I’m so sorry, I’ve been such a dick,” he sniffles.

You close your eyes. This is a problem you thought to yourself. You know he means it. The idiot means every word. Which somehow makes it worse.

When you open your eyes again, he’s still there.

Still kneeling.

Still holding onto you.

Waiting. Like a man standing in front of a judge. Waiting for his sentence.

Finally you sigh. “If you think this” you point to him and the scene he created, “fixes anything, you’re dumber than I thought.”

He looks up at you, big glassy blue eyes, bottom lip quivering from crying.

His shoulders immediately slump. “That’s fair.”

“You hurt me.”

“I know.” His eyes lower.

The room falls silent.

Then—“If I ever forgive you…”

Gojo looks up so fast he almost gets whiplash.

“…there’s a lot of work to do.”

The hope on his face is painful. “You mean that?”

“I mean maybe, if there’s change.”

For Gojo, that feels like winning the lottery. “I’ll do it.” His answer comes instantly. “I’ll do anything.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Anything?”

He nods his head, standing up now.

“No complaints?”

“Nope. Whatever you want me to do.” Gojo stares like you’ve hung the moon.

And for the first time since the breakup, he thinks—

Maybe.

He hasn’t lost you forever.

Dividers by: @strangergraphics

[616ioi]

Imagine pinching and spanking Sakamoto after he finished the cup ramen shelf again. Watch that fat jiggle with the harsh impact, blooming beautifully with red handprints. As he sobs below us, he promises to control his addiction better and restock it tomorrow. For now he accepts our anger, apologizing over and over...🤤

❛ #SPLATHEGOES! SAKAMOTO DAYS.

────────── he's gone through the supplies again. there's only one way to fix this behavior .ᐟ.ᐟ

⤿ pairings. taro sakamoto x gn reader

⤿ contents. sub character, delicious chubby taro, spanking, slight cnc, dacryphilia, degradation. this contains mature content, read at your own discretion.

⤿ thoughts. someone get this man a machine gun. they're jumping him, and they think it's all fun and games

"I can't believe this!" You seethe, pinching the fat on his reddening cheeks. He holds back a yelp, jolting violently. "That was the stock for the entire week, Taro."

"Sorry. I'm sorry."

He's not used to this. Being punished. Sakamoto is always good. At least, he always tries to be. To you, for you.

He doesn't like it when you're upset with him. He feels as though his heart will give out. Understandably so.

He really is sorry. He doesn't know what came over him. He understands it'll be a chunk out of your budget to replace it — "How many times do I have to get it into your thick skull? I could've made you something if you're really that hungry."

Sakamoto grits his teeth, his glasses fogging up with the heat of the air. "Do you understand me?"

Your condescending tone makes his brain go haywire, his thighs pressing against each other to conceal the tremors.

You shake your head in disappointment, firmly holding his big arms behind his back to get him to quit fidgeting over your lap.

''M'sorry, please, forgive me, I've learned my lesson."

You haven't even started.

Nonetheless, he flinches when you knead at him, fingers leaving red marks in their wake. "Twenty times. Make sure to count it properly this time."

He panics silently as he realizes nothing can stop this.

You're pulling your hand back, allowing the cold air to hit his body. "St...op," He begs softly with a shake of his head, "I promise to restock it!!"

SPANK!

"URGH!" Taro bites his lip, his body jiggles like water, he can feel the embarrassment roaming down his body.

"Taro."

"O-one."

Smack.

"Two!! I'm sorry, please [name]."

"How many more times do I have to tell you for you to finally understand?" Another spank. It strikes the back of his thigh roughly.

Three. He wants to yelp out, but instead, he can only squeak out a weak apology.

"S-sorry!"

"Yeah? Tell me. What have you learned?"

"I.. uhh tha- nghh.."

Taro's mouth falls ajar, lips trembling as he searches for his voice.

"You can barely even speak right. There is no way you can." You tsk meanly, and he tries to buck his hips, the fat bouncing has you hypnotized.

To think that he enjoys being treated like this... sakakoto's heart pulses around, his eyes rapidly blinking away the forming tears. There must be something seriously wrong with him.

A resonating 'smack' satisfies your ears.

"Number." You remind him sternly.

How many was that?

His eyes go wide as his whole body jumps.

"It—" he gives a low sob. He can't remember — "hurts! Mn!!"

It's not even that you're causing him physical pain. In all honesty, this is nothing. If you decided to leave him purple and blue, the crack of your hand numb, he still won't be in pain.

It's that you're mad at him.

That's what set him off.

Even just the thought...

Your free hand gropes at his supple thighs, the heat of his body instantly brings rising goosebumps down your body.

"Oh, taro..." The emotional need for your praise overwhelms him. His chest rose and fell in fast, broken breaths. "Are you crying already?"

His cheeks burn, glasses falling down his nose at his slippery face. He's drenched. Sweat pooling at the tip of his nose and his forehead. His pupils are blown wide and teary.

Still, he shakes his head.

"That's it, taro," you grant him a praise, satisfied with his actions. You don't stop him when his hips start to move and roll in desperate circles, the head of his cock catching against your thigh. "You're doing so good."

"Mm!" He nods eagerly, mind fogged with need that even if it hurts him, he won't ruin your fun. "I hik! promise to do better!"

[rllyobsessedgirlie]

Fratjo breaks up with you and instantly regrets it

The first time Satoru Gojo realizes he made a mistake is when he can’t find you on campus.

At first he thinks it’s funny.

You’ve always been easy to find. The west library corner seat by the window. The campus café at 10:30 with a vanilla latte and that same notebook you pretend isn’t a diary.

But after the breakup?

You vanish.

Not metaphorically.

Literally.

Your Instagram, phone number, Snapchat — blocked.

He stares at his phone in the Alpha Tau living room while music blasts around him and someone hands him another drink.

Blocked.

“Damn,” one of the guys laughs. “She actually did it.”

Gojo scoffs like it doesn’t matter. “I’ll get her back,” he says cockily.

Like he’s not the one who said it. I need to focus on football.

The lie sounded convincing at the time. The scouts were watching. His coach kept yelling about discipline. Everyone said relationships were a distraction.

So he broke up with you.

Clean and quick.

Two weeks later, he’s drunk at three different frat parties, shamefully sneaking out of sorority house hookups before the sun even rises.

And somehow that’s when he realizes something feels wrong.

———-

The First Attempt

He tries texting.

It doesn’t go through. Still blocked.

He laughs to himself. “Dramatic much.”

But that night he still walks across campus toward the all-girl dorms.

Except the front desk girl just shrugs. “She’s not here.”

Gojo frowns, “What do you mean she’s not here?”

“Means she’s not here.”

He stands outside the dorm building for ten minutes before leaving.

The next day he tries again. Still no sight of you.

Flowers

A week later a bouquet arrives at your dorm. White lilies and baby’s breath.

Attached card: —SG <3

He doesn’t even know if you like lilies. You used to talk about flowers sometimes, but he never listened carefully enough to remember, and now he regrets it.

The desk girl tells him later you picked them up without saying a word.

Still no message back.

The Letters

Then the letters start. The handwritten notes made him feel romantic, he was sure this would get a response out of you.

The first one is simple.

I know you blocked me. I deserve it.

Let me know if you wanna talk

-Satoru <3

No response.

The second one is longer.

I didn’t break up with you because I stopped loving you. I thought I was doing the responsible thing.

Please unblock me xoxo

The third one is messy.

He writes it at 2 AM after a party he left early because some girl laughed too loud in a way that sounded a little too much like you.

I keep looking for you around campus.

You used to sit by the west library window. I checked yesterday. You weren’t there. Are you avoiding me?

- Toru

Your Favorite Snacks

The dorm desk starts receiving packages. Your favorite chocolate. Spicy chips.

Strawberry gummies you always bought from the vending machine during late-night study sessions.

Deliveries of your favourite bubble tea.

The desk girl starts recognizing his name. “Another one from the football guy. I told him you weren’t here again like you asked.”

Meanwhile

Gojo’s reputation doesn’t change. He’s still the star player. Still the loud one at parties. Still the guy everyone thinks has everything.

But lately he keeps checking doorways. Scanning crowds at football games. Looking for someone who isn’t there.

The First Time He Sees You Again

It’s raining. He’s leaving practice when he spots you across the quad under a blue umbrella.

For a second he thinks he imagined it.

But then you look up. And your eyes meet his.

The look on your face isn’t anger. It’s worse.

It’s indifference.

You turn and keep walking. Gojo’s heart drops straight into his stomach. He can’t let you escape after all this time of chasing you.

“Hey—!”

You stop slowly. You look over your shoulder. “…What?” Your voice is calm.

Gojo suddenly forgets every speech he rehearsed. “I—did you get the letters?”

“Yes.”

“…And?…will you please talk to me?”

You stare at him for a long moment “Goodnight, Gojo.”

Then you turn and walk away, leaving him standing alone in the rain, watching you disappear.

Dividers by: @strangergraphics