nagi never thought living with a girl would be so hard. not difficult, but hard. his body felt like it was constantly one second away from betraying him, from giving in to the raw, primal ache low in his stomach every time you walked past in your shorts. his pretty little roommate, who had no idea what she was doing to him or maybe you did. that thought alone made his jaw clench.
at first he thought it would be easy. you barely spoke to him when he moved in. you gave sleepy hellos and soft goodnights, the occasional shared meal in silence. you were clean, quiet, and didn’t care when he gamed too late. ideal. but over time nagi started noticing. the curve of your waist when you stretched on the couch. the way your voice got raspy when you were tired. the soft scent of your shampoo lingering in the hallway.
now he was noticing everything and it was becoming a problem.
he couldn’t focus when you were home, couldn’t play games or even nap. every time he heard you padding barefoot into the kitchen, his body snapped to attention like it had something to prove. it didn’t help that you were so damn sweet to him.
“sei, did you eat today?”
“hey, i saved you the last dumpling.”
“you always look so cozy in your hoodie. like a big sleepy cat.”
you said things like that without thinking, tossed them out like casual roommate chatter. but nagi felt them coil around his spine like a leash, tighter every time.
tonight was the worst of it. you came back late from a night out, wearing a thin strappy dress that shimmered when you moved. he hated whoever made you laugh like that. hated that you smelled like a bar and someone else’s cologne. you kicked your heels off by the door and sighed like you’d just stepped into safety, into his space. and when you padded into the kitchen, tipsy and barefoot, humming softly as you poured a glass of water, nagi just stared. his mouth felt dry and his sweats suddenly too tight.
you didn’t even notice him on the couch until you turned, startled. “oh—hey, sei. you’re still up?”
he blinked and barely nodded.
you smiled, walking toward him without hesitation. “mmh, i’m exhausted. too many people, not enough food. your game still on?”
you dropped down onto the couch beside him. your knees brushing, bare thighs close enough to touch and leaned your head on his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. nagi tensed. everything in his body screamed to move, to run, to grab you and pin you under him. to fuck you slow and deep and full until you understood what he’d been holding back. to fill you over and over until there was no room for anyone else. the thought hit him hard. he wanted to breed you. not just fuck. not even ruin. he wanted to claim, fill you to the brim, watch it leak out, then push it back in with his fingers like you belonged to him.
he swallowed thickly. “you smell like him,” he muttered before he could stop himself.
you lifted your head, brows furrowed. “who?”
“oh.” you looked away, unsure. “it was loud. he hugged me, that’s all.” nagi’s eyes stayed on you. you shifted uncomfortably, laughing nervously. “why? jealous?”
he didn’t answer, because he was. and more than jealous, he was possessive, feral. something in him wanted to fuck you raw and fill you until your body forgot anyone else’s scent.
you tilted your head. “seishiro?”
he finally looked at you, eyes half-lidded. “don’t wear that shit around me,” he said, tone lazy but dangerous.
“that dress. the perfume. the little heels.” he shifted closer, the weight of him pressing into the couch cushions. “you don’t get what that does to me.”
nagi’s fingers twitched against his thigh, resisting the urge to touch. “i’ve been good,” he murmured thick with restraint. “so good. haven’t laid a finger on you.”
“but fuck—” he leaned in, nose brushing the curve of your jaw, lips ghosting over your cheek like a promise. “you keep walkin’ around like you want me to lose control.”
you were silent, frozen. nagi pulled back, his gaze heavy-lidded and flushed. his cock throbbed painfully in his sweats. he was still trying to behave. still trying to be good. but his self-control was razor-thin.
“i think about it all the time,” he confessed barely a whisper. “filling you. watching it drip out. making you take it again. over and over.”
you exhaled shakily, thighs pressing together.
“say something,” he said lowly.
“i didn’t know,” you whispered. “you never said anything.”
“‘cause i didn’t wanna scare you.” his eyes dropped to your lips, then lower. “but i can’t take it anymore.”
you bit your lip. “i didn’t think you noticed me like that,” you said softly.
“i notice everything, pretty girl.”
the silence between you burned.
finally you moved an inch closer, lips parted. and nagi didn’t kiss you. he sat back, breathing hard through his nose, eyes dark with hunger. he looked like he wanted to devour you, but he didn’t move again.
“go change,” he muttered, hoarse. “before i stop being good.”
you stood up shakily, heart pounding. his eyes never left your thighs.
that night, he jerked off three times in the shower,biting down groans, palm rough and angry, thinking of you riding him with your belly swollen, dripping with everything he’d poured inside.
the next morning, you wore his hoodie without asking and nagi knew he was fucked.
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