❝You finally had the small, quiet life you always wanted—married to Kento Nanami, home with your little boy Yuuji, safe in your routines—until a brutal attack in a grocery store parking lot tore it all away. You wake from a month-long coma with six missing years, no memory of your husband or child, forced to step back into a life that knows you intimately while you feel like a stranger inside your own skin.❞
cw; assault, trauma, anxiety, mental health, smut
masterlist - comment for taglist
chapter one. A House Built of Quiet Things
chapter two. A Life You Don’t Remember
chapter three. The Shape of Before
chapter four. Small Life, Full Heart
chapter five. Coffee with a Stranger Who Knows You
chapter six. The Garden Gate
chapter seven. Pictures of a Life I Forgot
chapter eight. A House with Room for Sunlight
chapter nine. The Weight of Their Voices
chapter ten. The Second First Time
᭡୧ Fix your route? Nah, Fuck you right. — N. Kento.
᭡୧ synopsis: in which nanami is a longtime divorced man but got a very active sex life. and in which a new, bimbo… and a very much younger neighbor moves in next to his apartment. worst part is, he’s not able to control himself around you. especially when you’re at his door, asking him to fix your wifi late at this hour.
᭡୧ pairing: older!nanami kento x kinda bimbo fem!reader
᭡୧ c. warnings: age gap, heavy sexuál tension, eyefu cking, solo m. mast urbation, nanami is in his 40s and reader is early 20s, belly/tummy bulge, fing ering, did i say heavy se xual tension?, pus sy eating, overstim ulation, squi rting, weak plot/heavy po rn — if there’s more to tag lmk. w.c: 7.8k+
nanami kento has always kept his life neat and quiet, the kind of man who folds his shirts the same way every morning and times his coffee exactly seven minutes after the water boils. forty years old, divorced once a long time ago, and now he lives alone in the corner apartment on the fourth floor where the hallway light flickers just enough to remind him he should probably call maintenance but never does.
his sex life is the same as everything else he controls, sparse and deliberate. a few times a year he lets himself download one of those bland apps, meets a woman his age in a hotel bar, fucks her slow and polite in the dark so neither of them has to look too closely at the other.
most nights though it is just his own hand in the shower, quick and efficient, eyes closed while he thinks about nothing at all. he likes it that way. clean. no mess. no complications. until you moved in next door three months ago and ruined every single one of those careful rules without even trying.
you showed up on a rainy tuesday with too many cardboard boxes and a laugh that carried through the thin walls like it belonged there.
early twenties, fresh out of whatever college or job that spat you into this building, always in oversized shirts and tiny sleep shorts that rode up the back of your thighs when you bent over to pick up your mail. nanami noticed you the first time he passed you in the hallway, the way you smiled at him like he was just another neighbor instead of a man who suddenly felt every one of those twenty years between you. he told himself it was nothing. just new noise in a building that had been quiet for years. but then the noise became something else.
the soft thump of your music when you cooked dinner, the way your balcony light stayed on late while you scrolled on your phone, the faint vanilla scent that drifted under his door every time you took out the trash. he started catching himself pausing at the peephole when he heard your keys, hating the way his cock twitched at the mere sound of your footsteps. hating it more when he realized he was hard again in the shower that same night, fist wrapped tight around himself while he pictured those sleep shorts pooled around your ankles.
he tried to ignore it at first. threw himself into longer office hours, came home later, kept the volume on his television higher so he would not hear you humming in the shower through the shared wall. it did not work.
every little thing you did chipped at him. the way you waved from your balcony in the mornings wearing nothing but a thin tank top and no bra, nipples stiff from the cool air. the way you asked him once, all sweet and shy, if he knew how to fix a leaking faucet and stood too close while he worked, soft focused grunts leaving is chest and his rolled-up sleeve. after that night he jerked off twice before he could even get his jeans off, coming so hard he had to brace one hand on the shower tile just to stay upright.
he hated how easily you affected him. hated that a girl barely old enough to rent her own apartment could make a man like him, a man who prided himself on control, feel like some desperate teenager again. his sex life used to be something he managed. now it was just quiet frustration and the occasional guilty stroke while he thought about how small you would look under him, how tight you would feel, how pretty you would sound moaning his name.
then came the router. you knocked on his door at nine-thirty one random night, voice small and embarrassed over the phone first, then in person when he opened up still dressed in his white button-up and black jeans.
nanami stands at your doorway with one hand already in his pocket, the other holding the small toolbox he keeps for these exact random neighbor emergencies all ready, and he tells himself for the tenth time that this is nothing. just a quick fix.
your voice is soft and a little embarrassed over he’s not surprised. “sorry to bother you, nanami-san, but my wifi router just died and i have no idea what i’m doing with these things.” he had sighed, told you he would be right over, and now here he is, hating every single second because the moment you open the door he feels it again. that pull. that stupid, inconvenient heat low in his gut that has been creeping up on him since the day you moved in.
you are wearing your famous oversized t-shirt that slips off one shoulder and tiny sleep shorts that ride up when you shift your weight, bare feet on the hardwood, skin glazed with a thin layer of sweat like you had been lounging on the couch all evening.
you smile at him, grateful and a little shy, and nanami’s jaw tightens. he is forty, a divorced but settled, a man who likes order and quiet and routines that do not include getting half-hard at the sight of his much younger neighbor’s collarbones. yet here he is, eyes dragging down the line of your neck before he forces them back up.
“thank you so much for coming,” you say, stepping aside to let him in. your voice is warm, a little breathy from the relief of not having to deal with it alone. the apartment smells faintly of vanilla and whatever takeout you had for dinner.
nanami nods once, polite as always, and follows you toward the corner where the router sits on a low shelf. he can feel the weight of his own body, the clean but lived-in scent of his white button-up clinging slightly to his skin after a long day, black jeans sitting snug on his hips. he is musty in that grown-man way, soap and faint cologne mixed with the faint trace of office air and the walk over, nothing overpowering but undeniably male. he knows it. he hopes you do not notice how it fills the small space between you.
you hover close while he crouches down to look at the router, your thigh brushing his shoulder as you point at the blinking lights. “it just stopped working out of nowhere. i tried restarting it but…” your words trail off when he glances up.
his eyes catch on the way your t-shirt hangs loose, the soft swell of your tits visible at the neckline, the smooth skin of your legs right there at eye level. he should look away yet nanami does not. instead his gaze lingers, slow and heavy, tracing the curve of your hip, the way the hem of those shorts digs into the flesh of your thigh. he feels his cock twitch in his jeans, thickening against the zipper before he can stop it.
fuck.
he shifts his weight, trying to hide the growing bulge, but the movement only makes the fabric pull tighter.
“let me see,” he mutters, voice lower than he intends, rough around the edges. his fingers work the cables, checking connections, but his mind is not on the router. it is on you. on how you smell like warm skin and faint lotion, on how you keep biting your lip while you watch him, on how easily he could reach out and slide his palm up the back of your thigh.
he has been trying to ignore it for weeks. it takes him back to the way you wave at him from your balcony in the mornings, the sound of your laugh carrying through the thin walls when you are on the phone with friends, the soft thump of your music when you cook.
every little thing has been chipping away at his carefully built restraint. he is older. he should know better. but his body does not care about should.
he stands up slowly, taller than you by a good amount, and when he does his chest brushes your shoulder. you do not step back and the air between you feels thick, charged, and nanami’s eyes drop again, this time to your mouth, then lower to where your nipples have tightened under the thin shirt.
he swallows hard. his cock is fully hard now, pressing insistently against the front of his black jeans, the outline obvious if you were to look down. he turns slightly, pretending to fiddle with the router settings on his phone, but the movement only highlights the bulge.
he can feel the heat of it, the way it throbs when you lean in closer to see what he is doing, your breath ghosting over his forearm.
“is it the cable?” you ask, voice quieter now, like you have noticed the shift too. your eyes flick to his face, then down, then back up, and nanami sees the faint flush creeping up your neck. good. at least he is not suffering alone. he clears his throat, forcing his attention back to the device, but his free hand flexes at his side, knuckles whitening. he wants to touch you. wants to back you against the wall and slide those tiny shorts down your legs, wants to feel how wet you already are because he can smell it, that sweet faint arousal mixing with your usual scent.
his mind supplies the image without permission: you bent over the couch, his cock buried deep while he grips your hips and fucks the whimpers out of you. he exhales sharply through his nose.
“try it now,” he says, stepping back just enough to give you space, but not enough to hide anything. the router lights flicker green. you pull out your phone to test the connection and let out a small happy sound that goes straight to his dick.
“it works! oh my god, thank you, nanami-san.” you turn to him fully, eyes bright, and for a second he lets himself look. really look. at the way your chest rises with each breath, at the bare stretch of thigh, at how your lips part when you realize he is staring.
he does not smile. his expression stays bland, almost stern, but his eyes are dark and hungry, eye-fucking you so openly now that there is no pretending. his cock strains harder against the denim, a small wet spot forming where he is leaking, and he makes no move to hide it.
he is half heartedly relieved you do not notice. your gaze still stuck on your phone screen, lashes fluttering, and when you look back up, you read there is something new in his expression, something needy and waiting to be unleashed.
nanami’s voice comes out rougher than he means. “you should get a better router. this one is outdated.” it is the most neutral thing he can think of, but it does not matter.
the tension is already there, thick and undeniable, wrapping around both of you in the half-unpacked living room. he can feel his pulse in his cock, the heavy ache of it, the way his balls feel tight just from standing this close to you. he wants to hate how easily you affect him.
he does hate it. but he cannot stop the slow drag of his eyes over your body one more time, imagining exactly how you would look spread open on his bed, taking every inch while he tells you how long he has been fighting this.
you shift on your feet, thighs pressing together, and nanami catches the tiny movement. his jaw clenches. he should leave. he should say goodnight and go back to his quiet apartment and jerk off to the memory like he has done more nights than he cares to admit.
your heartbeat picks up its rate, your finger tips sweaty. you feel the air thickening already, noticing the print of your neighbors dick without even looking down.
“so maybe you could stay and i could make you some te–” your proposal is short lived.
“i’ve fixed what you’ve called me to help for. goodnight.” his stern voice catches you off guard, watching him collect and grab the toolbox on the floor that was forgotten seconds ago. you try to say something but stay frozen when he pushes past you, his neck veins slightly showing on his skin.
nanami strides out fast. because right now, with his cock hard and obvious and his control fraying at the edges, he is not sure he has the strength to stay in the same room with you.
and so he leaves you standing in the middle of your apartment with your wifi fixed and a pile of notifications ‘ding-ing’ every seconds.
+
a week drags by in thick, unspoken tension that sits heavy between the thin apartment walls like smoke that refuses to clear.
nanami wakes each morning with the same stern resolution burning behind his eyes: keep the distance, lock it down, pretend the night you called him over for the router never happened. he leaves for the office before the sun fully rises, comes home long after the hallway lights have dimmed, and when he passes your door he keeps his gaze fixed on the scuffed floorboards like they hold the answers to every moral question he has been asking himself since he first felt that inconvenient throb in his jeans. but the memory refuses to fade.
it lingers in the shower when hot water runs down his chest and his hand wraps around his cock without permission, stroking slow and frustrated while your freshly known name slips out between gritted teeth like a confession he wishes he could swallow back.
it follows him into bed at night, where he lies stiff on his back and remembers the exact shade of flush that crept up your neck when his eyes dragged too long over your body.
he hates it. hates how easily a girl barely out of her early twenties can unravel the careful, quiet life he has built for himself. he is older, disciplined, a man who values order and restraint above almost everything, yet here he is, reduced to stolen glances through the balcony railing and late-night strokes that leave him emptier than before.
you do not make any of it easier. you still wave at him from across the narrow gap between your balconies in the mornings, soft smile curving your lips like you know exactly what you are doing to him. you leave polite little notes taped to his door about shared packages or the new recycling bins downstairs, your handwriting neat and looping in a way that makes his fingers tighten around the paper every time.
each accidental brush of your fingers when you hand him mail in the hallway sends a spark straight down his spine, and every polite “good morning, nanami-san” you offer chips away at the walls he keeps trying to reinforce. he catches the sound of your laugh through the thin wall sometimes when you are on the phone with people… your age, light and warm, and his cock thickens in his slacks before he can stop it.
he tells himself it is nothing. just proximity. just the natural reaction of a man who has been alone too long. but deep down he knows the truth: you have gotten under his skin, and the more he tries to push it away the harder it pulls.
tonight the last thread of his restraint finally frays and snaps.
the familiar knock comes at exactly the time he wishes it to, soft but insistent, cutting through the quiet of his evening like a hook sinking into flesh.
nanami opens the door still dressed from the office, white button-up with the sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows, black jeans sitting low on his hips, the faint musty-clean scent of him drifting out into the hallway, clean and faint cologne and the long day clinging to his skin.
you stand there in another oversized t-shirt that slips off one shoulder and those same tiny sleep shorts that have been haunting him, hair not perfect like you had been caught up in something… private, cheeks already carrying that telltale pink flush. it’s as if last week was repeating itself.
“the router again,” you say, voice small and breathy, but your eyes are not on any imaginary problem. they trace the open collar of his shirt, the broad line of his shoulders, the way his chest fills the doorway. “it keeps dropping signal. i tried everything you showed me last time but… i think i need your help again.”
he should tell you no. should suggest you call the building manager in the morning this time and close the door before the air between you thickens any further. instead he exhales slowly through his nose, jaw tight, and reaches for the small toolbox he keeps by the door without saying a word.
he follows you next door, the faint click of the lock behind him sounding louder than it should. the moment you are both inside the living room the atmosphere shifts, warmer and heavier, like the space itself is holding its breath. you lead him to the same corner shelf where the router sits, but this time you do not hover at a polite distance.
you stand close enough that your bare arm brushes his rough skin when he crouches down to look. the lights on the router are steady green. he knows it is working fine the second he glances at it. and most definitely you know it.
the excuse is paper-thin and neither of you bothers to pretend otherwise.
nanami rises slowly, turning to face you fully, his tall frame casting a shadow over you in the soft lamplight. his eyes do the same slow, solemn drag they did the week before, only heavier now, sharpened by seven long days of fighting the memory of your body.
he watches the way your nipples have already tightened under the thin fabric of your shirt, the subtle press of your thighs together like the ache between them is already building. his cock responds immediately, swelling thick and heavy inside his black jeans, the thick ridge becoming obvious as it presses against the denim. he’s sure a faint damp spot is beginning to form, but he does not try to hide it this time. he lets you see. lets the weight of his stare settle on you like a touch.
“the router is working fine,” he says, voice low and rough, carrying that same stern tone he always uses, like he is delivering a verdict in court rather than standing in your living room with a hard-on he cannot will away. “you know that as well as i do. why did you really call me over here?”
you swallow visibly, eyes flicking down to the clear outline of his cock straining against his jeans before rising back to his face.
your chest rises and falls with a heavier breath, lips parting slightly, but instead of answering you take one slow step back. then another. your hands move to the waistband of your sleep shorts, fingers hooking under the fabric, and you bend forward just enough to slide them down your legs in one smooth motion.
the shorts pool at your ankles and you step out of them, leaving you in nothing but a pair of grey lace panties with delicate pink ribbons threaded along the edges. the soft fabric clings to the curve of your pussy, the faint outline of your folds visible through the thin material, and nanami’s right leg twitches involuntarily, his cock jerking hard inside his jeans at the sight.
his brows draw together in a quick pretend of frown, serious expression tightening. “what are you doing?” he asks, voice dropping even lower, a clear warning threaded through the words. but you do not stop. your fingers catch the hem of your oversized t-shirt next, lifting it slowly, inch by inch, revealing the soft skin of your stomach, the delicate dip of your waist, the underside of your breasts.
you pull the shirt up and over your head, letting it drop to the floor beside the shorts, and now you stand there in only the grey lace panties, tits bare, nipples stiff in the cool air of the room. nanami’s breath catches, his hands flexing hard at his sides, the long fingers curling into fists as he fights the urge to reach for you.
he says your name then, low and rough, the syllables heavy with warning. “don’t.” but you only smile, small and soft and knowing, and continue. your thumbs hook into the waistband of the panties, sliding them down your hips with agonizing slowness, the lace catching briefly on the swell of your ass before you let them fall.
you step out of them completely, now fully naked in front of him, skin flushed warm under his heavy gaze. you walk toward him, bare feet quiet on the floor, hips swaying just enough to make your tits move softly with each step. when you are close enough that he can feel the heat radiating from your body, when his mouth opens to speak again, you lift one finger and press it gently to his lips, shushing him.
nanami lets out a small, broken sound, half whimper, half groan, the noise slipping out before he can stop it. his cock throbs visibly in his jeans, another bead of pre-cum soaking into the fabric as the tension coils tighter in the narrow space between your bodies.
he exhales shakily against your finger, eyes dark and conflicted, thick needy lines deepening on his face. “you’re a very young girl…” he trails off, voice rough and strained, the words carrying the weight of every reason he has been telling himself to stay away.
you pull your finger back just enough to speak, voice soft but steady. “i’m legal.”
“barely,” he counters immediately, the word clipped, his gaze dropping despite himself to the bare curve of your breasts, it taught him to squeeze on them and make you feel good, the soft swell of your hips, the smooth skin between your thighs where he can already see the faint shine of arousal. “you’re barely twenty-something. i’m more than twice your age. this… this is not appropriate.”
you tilt your head slightly, still standing naked and unashamed in front of him, the tension so thick it feels like the air itself has weight. “and yet you’re standing here with your cock so hard i can see it twitching through your jeans,” you murmur, eyes flicking down pointedly to the obvious bulge. “you’ve been avoiding me all week, nanami-san, but you still came over the second i knocked. tell me again how inappropriate this is.”
caught him red handed. fuck you.
he lets out another low groan, the sound vibrating in his chest, his hand coming up like he might push you away but instead hovering just above your waist, fingers trembling with restraint. “you have no idea what you’re asking for,” he says, voice quieter now, almost pained. “i’m not some young man who can just… give in without consequences. you deserve better than an older neighbor who can’t keep his eyes off you.”
the banter stretches, slow and heavy, every word laced with the electric pull between you. you step even closer, your bare breasts brushing the front of his white shirt, nipples dragging against the fabric, and nanami’s breath hitches sharply. “then why does it feel like you’ve been thinking about this as much as i have?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper. “why do you look at me like you want to bend me over every time we pass in the hall?”
his jaw clenches, the muscle ticking visibly, but his eyes stay locked on yours even as his cock continues to throb between you.
“because i do,” he admits finally, the words dragged out like they cost him something. “i want to. more than i should. but you’re young. barely out of college. and i’m… this.” he gestures vaguely at himself, the musty yet cleaned scent of his body stronger now with the heat rising off his skin, the faint sweat dampening the collar of his shirt. “a tired man who should know better.”
you smile again, softer this time, and reach up to trace one finger along the line of his jaw. “then stop fighting it for one night,” you whisper. “just let yourself have me. i want you, nanami. i’ve wanted you since the first time you fixed my router and looked at me like you were starving.”
the silence stretches again, thick and humming with tension, his breath coming heavier now, chest rising and falling against yours. his hand finally settles on your waist, large palm warm and slightly rough against your bare skin, thumb stroking once, slow and deliberate.
he does not pull you closer yet, but he does not push you away either. the battle is still there in his eyes, solemn and conflicted, but the hunger is winning, inch by aching inch, as the minutes tick by in the quiet room and his cock continues to strain painfully against his jeans, waiting for the moment his restraint finally gives out completely.
nanami’s hand tightens on your waist, fingers spanning wide enough to nearly wrap around the curve of it, and the last of his resistance crumbles like dry paper under the heat of your bare skin against his palm.
he exhales once, long and shaky, eyes still calculated but dark now with the kind of hunger he has been trying to bury for weeks, and then he is moving, guiding you backward until the backs of your knees hit the couch and you sink down onto the cushions. he follows without a word, dropping to his knees between your spread thighs like a man who has finally stopped pretending he can walk away.
his broad shoulders push your legs wider, the white button-up stretching tight across his chest as he leans in, breath hot against the inside of your thigh. he looks up at you one last time, jaw set, like he is giving you one final chance to tell him no, but you only slide your fingers into his neatly combed hair and tug him closer. that is all it takes.
his mouth finds your pussy like he has been starving for it, lips parting to drag a slow, broad stripe up your folds, tongue flat and heavy as he tastes you properly for the first time. the groan that vibrates out of his chest is low and rough, almost pained, because you are already soaked, slick coating his tongue in a way that makes his cock jerk hard inside his jeans.
he licks again, slower this time, savoring the way your thighs tremble on either side of his head, then seals his mouth around your clit and sucks gently, tongue flicking in tight little circles that have your back arching off the couch. one of his huge hands slides up your stomach, palm pressing flat just below your navel, and he pushes down with just enough pressure to make your pussy clench around nothing.
the size of his hand there is obscene, fingers spread wide so his pinky rests near the base of your ribs and his thumb brushes the top of your mound, the sheer scale of him against your smaller frame making everything feel tighter, hotter, more overwhelming.
nanami eats you out like he has all night and nothing else matters, tongue sliding deep between your folds before circling back up to your clit, sucking and licking in a rhythm that builds slow and relentless. his free hand grips your thigh, spreading you even wider, thumb digging into the soft flesh while he buries his face deeper, nose pressing against your mound as he drinks down every drop of you. the wet sounds fill the quiet room, wet and loud, his groans mixing with the slick slide of his tongue and the shaky breaths you keep letting out.
he keeps that steady pressure on your lower belly the whole time, palm rubbing slow circles that make your insides twist and flutter, the tummy bullying so deliberate it feels like he is trying to feel exactly where his mouth is working from the inside. your hips twitch, trying to ride his face, but he holds you down with that big hand, keeping you exactly where he wants you while he pushes you closer and closer to the edge.
when you come it hits hard and sudden, pussy pulsing against his tongue as your thighs clamp around his head and a broken moan spills out of you. nanami does not stop. he keeps licking you through it, slower now but just as thorough, tongue dragging over your oversensitive clit until your whole body jerks and you try to squirm away from the intensity.
he only presses his palm firmer against your stomach, holding you in place, the slight overstimulation making your eyes water and your voice crack on his name. “nanami…plea– fuck, it’s too much,” you whimper, but he just hums against you, the vibration sending another sharp spark through your core, and slides two thick fingers into your still-clenching pussy without warning. they stretch you wide, the size of them so much bigger than your own that you feel every knuckle, every ridge, as he curls them deep and starts pumping slow and steady.
he lifts his head just enough to watch his fingers disappear inside you, eyes dark and tempting, lips shiny with your slick. “look at how well you take them,” he murmurs, voice gravel-rough, the praise low and almost reverent as he presses down on your belly again with his other hand, feeling the way his fingers create a very faint bulge against your walls from the outside.
the pressure makes everything tighter, more intense, and you clench hard around him, another wave of overstimulation crashing through you while he keeps fingering you through the aftershocks. his thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow circles that have you shaking, the combination of his thick fingers stretching you open and the firm press on your tummy turning every breath into a broken little sob.
he does not rush. he just keeps working you, long fingers dragging along that perfect spot inside while his palm rubs steady circles on your stomach, bullying that soft lower belly until you are dripping down his wrist and whimpering his name like it will make it better than it already is.
only when your thighs are trembling uncontrollably and your pussy is fluttering helplessly around his fingers does he finally ease up, sliding them out slow and careful, bringing them to his mouth to lick clean with a low groan that makes your stomach flip.
he stays on his knees between your legs for a long moment, forehead resting against your thigh, breathing hard while his cock strains painfully against his jeans, the front of the fabric dark with pre-cum. when he finally looks up at you his eyes are still determined, still carrying that quiet conflict, but the hunger has won completely now, and the way he stares at your flushed, marked body makes it clear he is nowhere near done with you tonight.
nanami stays on his knees between your spread thighs for another long, heavy breath, forehead pressed to the soft skin just above your knee while his chest rises and falls like he is trying to steady something inside himself that already broke minutes ago. his fingers are still shiny with you, the faint scent of his skin mixed with the sharp sweetness of your pussy hanging thick in the air.
when he finally moves it is slow and deliberate, like every motion costs him something. he rises to his full height, towering over you on the couch, white button-up wrinkled and damp at the collar from the heat rolling off both of you. his hands, large and steady, slide under your thighs and around your back in one smooth motion, scooping you up off the cushions like you weigh nothing at all.
your legs wrap around his slim waist on instinct, heels digging into the firm muscle of his lower back, and the sudden shift leaves you gasping against his shoulder because he lifts you so easily, strong arms locking you against his chest while your bare pussy hovers right above the heavy bulge still trapped in his jeans.
he does not give you time to look down. one arm stays banded tight under your ass, holding your weight like it is effortless, while his free hand works between your bodies to unbuckle his belt with a quiet metallic clink. the zipper follows, the sound loud in the quiet room, and he shoves both jeans and briefs down just enough to free himself.
you feel the thick, heavy length spring up against your inner thigh, hot and velvet-smooth, the blunt mushroom head already slick and leaking. before you can even tilt your head to catch a glimpse he shifts you higher in his arms, pressing your back against the nearest wall for leverage, and uses that same free hand to guide the fat head of his cock right to your dripping entrance.
the broad tip nudges through your folds, rubbing slow and deliberate, coating himself in your slick while he watches your face with those solemn dark eyes, brows knitted tight like he is still fighting the last scraps of restraint.
“breathe,” he mutters, voice low and rough, the single word almost gentle even as his hips tilt forward. he helps you sink down, one thick inch at a time, the stretch burning so good it makes your jaw go slack and your eyes flutter half-shut.
he is big, thicker than anything you have taken, the veined shaft dragging along your walls as he lowers you steadily until your ass meets his hips and he is buried to the hilt. a quiet groan tears from his throat when he bottoms out, the sound vibrating through his chest into yours, and for a long second he just holds you there, letting you feel every inch of him pulsing deep inside your smaller body.
you’re pressed and folded in an awkward position, and it only makes the size difference feel more obscene, your soft curves dwarfed by his tall, solid frame.
nanami does not wait long. his hands grip your ass harder, fingers digging into the soft flesh, and he starts to move, lifting you up and dropping you back down onto his cock with controlled, powerful strokes that hammer into you deep enough to punch the air from your lungs. each thrust makes your whole body jolt in his arms, tits bouncing under nothing. bare and free for him to watch, back sliding against the wall while he fucks up into you like he has been imagining it for weeks.
his height towers over you completely, shoulders broad enough to block out the room, white shirt straining across his chest with every roll of his hips.
the mushroom head of his cock drags perfectly along that spot inside you on every downstroke, the sheer size of him making your belly bulge slightly every time he bottoms out, a faint outline visible under your skin if you looked down, but he keeps your face buried against his neck so you cannot.
he keeps that steady, punishing rhythm, hips snapping up hard while his arms hold you suspended like you are weightless, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing louder with every thrust. sweat beads along his hairline, dampening the collar of his shirt, and his breath comes in hot, measured pants against your ear.
“too big for you?” he asks, voice strained but still carrying that solemn edge, even as he grinds deep and holds you there for a heartbeat, letting you feel how completely he fills you.
your only answer is a broken moan and loled nod, nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt, legs tightening around his waist as another wave of overstimulation starts building fast. he does not slow down. he just keeps lifting and dropping you onto every thick inch, eyebrows still knitted in concentration, eyes flicking between your slack mouth and the way your body takes him so greedily.
his shirt keeps getting in the way, bunching up between both of you, so he shifts his grip, one hand sliding up to yank the fabric higher until it is completely off of him, exposing his sweaty chest completely to the cool air and your half-focused stare.
now there is nothing between you but sweat-slick skin and the relentless drag of his cock stretching you open. he leans in, mouth finding your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin while he hammers into you harder, the angle shifting so the head of his cock bullies that perfect spot with every upward thrust. your smaller frame jolts in his arms with each powerful stroke, pussy clenching tight around the thick length splitting you apart, and nanami groans low and deep, the sound rumbling through his chest as he feels you start to flutter around him again.
he keeps you pinned against the wall like that, towering over you, strong arms never tiring as he fucks you deep and steady, the size difference so stark it makes your head spin. every time he bottoms out his hips grind against your clit, the pressure on your lower belly from the inside making everything feel tighter, fuller, more overwhelming.
you are already close again, thighs shaking around his waist, voice cracking on his name, and nanami just holds you there, determined eyes locked on your face while he drives you closer to the edge with every heavy thrust, determined to feel you come around his cock before he lets himself follow.
nanami’s rhythm starts to falter just a little, hips snapping up with shorter, more desperate strokes while his breath comes hot and ragged against the side of your neck. he can feel it building fast, that tight coil low in his gut, his heavy balls drawing up tight and aching as your pussy flutters and squeezes around every thick inch of him.
but he refuses to let go first. he is older, more controlled, and right now that control means making sure you fall apart completely before he does.
with a low grunt he shifts his grip, one big hand sliding under your ass to tilt your hips forward while the other presses flat against your lower back, forcing your spine into a deep arch that pushes your pelvis out and opens you up even more obscenely. the new angle is nasty, almost cruel, your body folded and suspended in his arms so your clit grinds hard against the base of his cock on every upward thrust and the fat head of him drags directly into that spongy spot inside you at a brutal upward curve.
your legs dangle wider, heels kicking uselessly against his lower back, the sheer size difference making you feel like you are being split open and rearranged from the inside while he holds you like a toy.
he starts hammering into you with that filthy new angle, cock bullying that spot over and over until your eyes roll back and broken sobs start spilling from your slack mouth.
the overstimulation crashes in hard and fast, your already sensitive pussy clenching and spasming around him while tears prick at the corners of your eyes and start to slip down your flushed cheeks.
your hand flies down between your bodies on instinct, palm pushing weakly at his lower stomach like you can stop the relentless drag of his cock, fingers scrabbling against the damp fabric of his white shirt. nanami’s eyes narrow, jaw tightening, and he leans in close, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he hisses the words low and dark, “do that again and i’ll fucking hurt you good.”
the threat hits you like a live wire. your whole body seizes, a choked cry tearing from your throat, and then you are squirting hard around his cock, hot fluid gushing out in messy pulses that soak his jeans, drip down his balls, and splatter onto the floor beneath you.
nanami groans deep and filthy at the feeling, the wet heat flooding around him making his cock twitch violently inside you. he does not slow down. if anything he fucks you harder, hips snapping up with wet, punishing slaps while his free hand slides between your bodies and starts tracing tight, relentless infinity signs over your swollen clit with two thick fingers. the pressure is mean and perfect, circling and dragging in that figure-eight pattern while he keeps pounding into that nasty folded angle, cock bullying your g-spot and his fingers never letting up on your overstimulated clit.
“i know, baby, i know,” he rasps against your ear, voice hoarse and strained, the words almost soothing even as he wrecks you. “you can take it. just let it happen.” your legs shake violently around his waist, tears streaming freely now, little hiccuping sobs mixing with the wet squelch of your pussy taking every brutal thrust.
nanami keeps that freaky rhythm going, hips rolling deep, fingers drawing those endless infinity loops over your clit until your vision whites out and another shattering orgasm rips through you, pussy clamping down so hard it almost forces him out. he hisses through his teeth, sweat dripping from his brow onto your chest, but he powers through it, fucking you straight through the peak and into the trembling aftershocks.
his own control finally snaps. his balls tighten almost painfully, cock swelling even thicker inside your fluttering walls as he buries himself to the hilt one last time, grinding deep while thick, hot ropes of cum flood you. he comes with a low, broken groan that vibrates through his chest, pulsing hard and endless, filling you so full that it starts leaking out around his cock in creamy white streaks every time he gives one last shallow thrust.
the mess is everywhere, your squirt and his cum dripping down your thighs, soaking the front of his jeans and pooling on the floor, the obscene wet sounds slowly fading as he keeps you pinned against the wall, still buried deep, both of you heaving for air.
nanami’s forehead drops to your shoulder, breathing hard, the last energy well spent, showing of with both of your sweat-soaked body mixing with the sharp smell of sex filling the room. his arms stay locked around you, holding your smaller frame effortlessly even as his cock twitches with the last weak spurts inside you.
for a long moment the only sounds are your shaky sobs and his ragged breathing, bodies trembling together in the aftermath, messy and spent and still connected. he does not pull out yet. he just keeps you there, suspended in his arms, the quiet weight of everything that just happened settling heavy between you while his cum continues to leak slowly out around where he is still buried deep.
nanami stays buried inside you for what feels like forever, thick cock still twitching with the last lazy pulses while warm cum slowly leaks out around where your bodies are joined, dripping down your thighs and onto the floor in messy little trails.
your legs are still wrapped around his waist, trembling, heels digging weakly into his lower back like you cannot quite let go yet, and he keeps holding you up without any effort, strong arms locked under your ass, keeping your smaller frame suspended against the wall like it is the most natural thing in the world. your shaky little sobs eventually quiet into soft, hiccuping breaths, tears drying on your cheeks, but the overstimulation still makes your pussy flutter weakly around him every few seconds, milking out another thin trickle of his cum.
finally he shifts, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he carefully pulls out, the wet sound loud and obscene in the quiet room.
a thick glob of his cum follows immediately, sliding out of your swollen, puffy pussy and running down to join the mess already pooled beneath you. he lowers you gently until your feet touch the floor, but your legs are too shaky to hold you, so he keeps one arm banded around your waist, steadying you against his chest while his other hand tucks himself back into his briefs and jeans with a quiet zip.
the white button-up is wrinkled and damp with sweat when he puts it back on, black jeans dark at the front from your squirt, but he still looks put-together in that quiet, solemn way of his, even now.
he does not say anything at first. just looks down at you with those dark, heavy eyes, thumb brushing slow circles on your bare hip like he cannot quite stop touching you. then he exhales, long and tired, and rests his forehead against yours for a brief second.
“this…” his voice comes out rough, low, almost reluctant. “this can’t happen again.”
the words hang between you, simple and final, even as his hand lingers on your skin and his cum continues to drip slowly down the inside of your thigh.
he presses one last, almost gentle kiss to your temple, the kind of kiss that feels heavier than any promise, before he steps back. his fingers flex once at his sides like he is fighting the urge to pull you close again, then he turns toward the door, shoulders straight, footsteps quiet on the floor.
“get some rest,” he murmurs without looking back, the manly scent of him still clinging to your skin. “and… call the building manager about the router next time.”
the door clicks shut behind him, leaving you standing there naked and trembling in the middle of your living room, thighs sticky, pussy aching and full of him, the quiet weight of what just happened settling deep in your chest. you know he means it. you also know, deep down, that neither of you really believes it.
well y’all i had to claw my nails onto a wall to storm this idea so it better do good or you’re not hearing from me again.. (i’m literally posting in few hours again 😛)
You're married to Satoru Gojo - an arrangement since your childhood, one you're so excited for. You soon find out - he wants nothing to do with you. Any one is preferable, from the waitress at your engagement party, to his secretary. Torn apart by insecurities and devastated by the fact that you can't make this one sided affection work, you decide to find something to keep you going until Gojo finds a way to end the marriage. That's what lands you right in the notorious boxing ring in town - led by Ryomen Sukuna, who finally sees you.
pairings - Nepo baby! Gojo x Reader x Boxer! Sukuna
warnings!!! - dear god lol - first time blow jobs, threesome (m/f/m) eifel tower, possessive Sukuna, desperate and pathetic Satoru, swallowing, oral (f and m receiving) p in v sex, degradation, praise, (they love to make reader cry and ruin her pussy tbh) cumplay, rough sex, choking, angst, basically the messiest chap EVER and this one leans towards Satoru (Sukuna's was last chap lol) - 12.1k (god lol)
As always this will have 3 endings - i'll repeat again if anyone reads authors notes - three endings! One Poly, One Gojo, One Sukuna. Poly end will be first.
<<<part five - masterlist - playlist - part seven
part six
𝕾𝖚𝖐𝖚𝖓𝖆
“Then open that pretty mouth.”
You obediently do just that – open your mouth for him, as his mind rushes and whirls with thoughts – you clearly have feelings for that fuck, and he won’t fault you for it, he wants all of you. Even the part that cares for a dumb, gaslighting little white haired fuck who just looked at you like he couldn’t imagine anything better than drinking Sukuna’s cum from your pussy.
His hands entangle in the hair at the nape of your neck, you damn near have cute little hearts in your eyes when he takes his tip, smearing a bead of precum right along your lips like a gloss. He exhales and then lets the heavy weight of his reddened tip glide on your tongue, the taste making you swallow and moan around him.
“Take as much as you can, pretty lil brat,” he whispers, moaning when you start bobbing up and down his veiny length, you’re so damn pretty like this, obedient like always, your nails pressing into his thighs. “Sucking me first, hmm? Me?”
“Mmm,” your answer is a soft moan that makes your throat flutter around him, tears pricking your pretty eyes and glimmering off your cheeks, sniffling as he keeps fucking into your throat deeper. “Mhmm…”
“That’s it, fuckin’ so proud of you,” he can tell you’re dying over the praise – you deserve that and more. “Always listenin’ s’fuckin’ well. Hah – there you go, just like that… fuck…”
You try to take more of him, your enthusiasm outpacing your skill, and you gag around him, throat constricting, your eyes watering instantly. A thick, messy string of drool slips from the corner of your mouth, dripping down onto his veiny shaft, even onto your little hand where it rests on his thigh.
You pull back and start coughing, your face flushed so cute, he can see you’re embarrassed, chuckling softly at you. “I’m sorry… I um…”
“You were taking too much too fast,” you blush so hot he feels it burning when he touches your cheek, you kiss his tip, a thick string of saliva connecting your swollen, glistening lips to his reddened tip. “You need to breathe through your nose and ease into it, my cock isn’t fucking going anywhere.”
“It’s not?” You tease, lips twitching at the corners, Sukuna loves the fact that you’re in here with him, he knows Satoru was trying and that you let him taste you, but you’re here.
On your knees.
Obediently waiting for his directions, for him to show you everything – no matter what fuck ass direction things go with Satoru and you – whatever weird throuple shit he may have to endure? He eats up the fact that you’re his, that he took you first, your mouth, your pretty cunt, fuck he was your first real kiss and not for show.
Possessive and sick, fucking depraved is how you make him – so depraved he’ll do anything to make sure you stay his. You belong to Sukuna as much as he does to you.
“Try to take more,” he leans forward now, adjusting his cock so it glides up in your throat easier, sucking in a breath as the wet, slutty sounds fill your room. “That’s it, mouth wrappin’ me, throat that tight? Fuck – m’gonna stretch it out, have him hear how badly I ruin it. So loud and slutty.”
You’re whining out at his toxic words, you – as pretty, sweet, and innocent as you are – are toxic too. He senses it in how you respond, in how you whine out when Sukuna holds you there, buried to the hilt, your nose pressed against the coarse pink hair at his base. He groans and keeps you there, brushing your hair back as you drool, throat quivering.
“You can take me brat,” he whispers softly, pulling back and letting that precum dance on your uvula as he moves. “Want me to use your throat, huh? Just like this?”
You sniffle and nod, just a beautiful, ruined, tear streaked mess, your lips are so swollen and bruised when you pull back and he lets you get a breath, just to suck him down obediently, letting him choke you with his length. Your pretty, lidded eyes are all glassy, that saliva slipping down your chin.
You’ve never even looked more beautiful, never been more his than on your knees, swallowing every fucking drop he pumps inside your throat, greedy and eager to please, your nails pressing hard into his thighs, digging in and making him suck in a breath, cock throbbing now.
“F-fuck… that’s it, greedy lil girl aren’t you?” You pull back with a messy pop, tongue lapping the undervein that wraps his thick cock. “You’re slutty for me… Love my cock ruining your throat?”
“I do,” your voice is weak and shaky, shifting on your thighs.
“Touch that pretty lil cunt while you take me, while you swallow me,” you reach down and blush, he laughs softly, cupping your face. “I want you to cum, wanna feel you scream around my cock, can you baby? Be good f’me?”
You nod quickly. “Y-yes, Kuna. Wanna be good for you.”
You swallow him so good, you drink every bit down, opening your mouth for his spit to join it, taking his greedy fucking kisses.
Once Sukuna has you in your bed all tucked in and tugged against him, he can’t help but let his mind race, to observe your pretty face quietly.
He can’t help but wonder just what was going on in your head.
“What is it, Kuna?” You murmur, voice all rough from where he’d fucked your throat.
“Just wondering if I should go ahead and fuck your ass,” you gasp and he smirks. “I can’t have him getting any hole first.”
“You’re toxic!” You shove him playfully but he cups your face, looking right into your eyes, making you pause, your lips parted. “Kuna?”
“I won’t let you fucking go,” his voice is harsher than he means, his grip on your face is too tight, you’re trembling. “You’re mine, all mine, fuckin’ need you, okay?”
“I wasn’t planning on leaving you at all,” you lean up, frowning now, kissing his lips softly. “I need you.”
“Do you need me, baby?” He whispers, you nod quickly, eyes slipping tears. “If you fuck that dumb white haired shit, would you tell him I hit it better?”
“Kuna!”
“Tell him he can’t make you cum, too,” you snort and roll your eyes.
“You’re insane.”
“Don’t fuck him till he stops bringing those sluts near you,” you nod and snuggle against him. “I’m serious.”
“You assume I’ll fuck Gojo.”
“It’s obvious he’ll beg enough, but I want you to remember who split you open on their cock first,” he whispers, watching your eyes go dazed. “Yeah?”
“Yes, Kuna.”
He knows you’ll let him in, but Sukuna sure the fuck was gonna make sure that dumb fuck didn’t hurt you, and that he was in control. He can’t not have you – all of you – and if he has to share, Gojo needs to learn that you’re his first.
****
𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖚
Satoru can’t stand the fact that you look so goddamn happy when you go off in the morning to box with Sukuna, how you get all peppy and do your hair, getting ready to go meet him. You’re making breakfast when he gets up the next morning and walks over by you, remembering the taste of your cunt on his goddamn lips – the way he desperately licked your thighs.
You were ruining him just existing, and now you couldn’t be his – just his – if that really was what he wanted. Was it?
Did he want to pump you full of his cum, have his babies, all those Gojo heirs his parents had pushed on him but instead of the perfect kids, they’d help take down shit parents like yours and his. The mix of your sweetness and Satoru's ruthless nature, kids of his own he could raise and try not to fuck up anywhere close to what your parents and his had done.
What a fucking insane dream, before he knew it your hips would widen – those hips that just beg for his hands, breedable ones he can’t stop imagining, he’d seen your pretty cunt, your tits, but imagine you folded in half? He’s sure it’s how Sukuna had you, part of him wants to see it – this sadistic goddamn part of him that he can’t explain away with any reason.
Satoru Gojo wishes he never pushed you away, he wishes he gave whatever the fuck this is some chance rather than shoving you into Sukuna’s arms, willing to get little crumbs and pieces of you at best. You shouldn’t even have let him taste you, shouldn’t have let him near you – yet you did.
Sukuna did.
What was his motivation, some fucking control, some way to torture Satoru? Did he think Satoru wouldn’t try to make you his if he got the chance to, that he wouldn’t sink to his knees if you just commanded him to? For as sweet and precious as you are, you have Sukuna Ryomen ready to do anything for you – including beating your parents and letting Satoru himself touch you.
He sees why, when it would merely take a few words and he’d do anything you asked, too, your tentative smile all shy and sweet like you weren’t wrecking his mind, like you didn’t have his dick utterly broken. He can’t even think of another woman without disgust now, and it’s all your fault.
“Good morning,” you say softly, tentative as if you’re not sure when or if he’ll snap, say something mean as fuck to you.
Of course you think he would.
“Yeah,” he can’t even say good morning to you, not when he heard slurping noises coming from your room last night, gagging and choking, and your lips are fucking swollen today. He walks behind you, making you tremble just a bit, an arm on either side of the counter. “Where’s your lover?”
“He’s at the gym,” you barely manage to speak, clearing your throat. “Where’s Jennifer? Chloe?”
“Fuck if I care or know,” you turn to him now, a little bit of batter on the corner of your lip, he swipes at it, pressing it between yours and watching as his thumb parts those lips. “Suck.”
You bite him.
“Fuck,” he laughs then as you glare, teeth indentations in his skin. “Guess that only works for Sukuna.”
“He always gives me a choice,” you blush furiously now. “Also… he only just let me do that.”
“Haven’t you two been fucking?”
“Yes,” you turn again, stirring the batter quickly, feeling his breath against your neck. “My lip was busted and he was worried. But also I never have… so… my only experience was watching you.”
Satoru pauses.
“Watching me?”
“Well not spying but I saw Chloe on her knees when you didn’t shut the door all the way, and that random girl you brought… they both did,” you clear your throat, Satoru’s heart sinks. “I um… wanted to try something that made him feel good like that I guess.”
“Ah,” how does he respond? When the pain is written on your face as he steps to the side and looks at you, when your lip is trembling. “You were curious, hmm?”
“How to please you at first? Yes,” you start pouring the batter into the muffin tins, clearing your throat. “I thought very foolishly that you’d eventually want me that first month, that you’d just let me try and I’d be able to make you like it.”
He can’t speak again.
“It was stupid,” you sigh and lean over to set the timer, placing the pan in the oven and letting it whir. “I was stupid then, so fucking stupid.”
“You weren’t –”
“On that you were correct,” you shut the door and look at him, the oven rushing warmth and making your cheeks flush. “That I was so pathetic I’d have dropped to my knees for you.”
Satoru Gojo hates himself.
*****
𝖄𝖔𝖚
He says nothing as you start heating up butter for the eggs in the pretty diamond coated pan – Satoru was nothing if not great for the finest items in the kitchen, the finest of everything. He studies you in a way that makes his blue eyes feel like a physical touch, making you remember his desperation last night, making you remember so much about it.
You’re utterly confused.
“It wasn’t pathetic,” you scoff then, looking at him in shock, he curses and shuts his eyes, hand rushing through his white locks. “Wanting to please your husband was what you were raised for, and it was all you really knew.”
“You think that was all of it?” You hardly hold your emotions back, but he looks at you in this way that destroys your soul. “You think I didn’t have feelings long before we got married?”
“How could you? You didn’t know me.”
“I knew of you, I saw you – so sweet I thought,” you laugh without humor, stirring the eggs up and trying to keep your composure. “I always thought you’d rescue me from them, that you’d show me love, that I could give you your heirs. And make you so happy you wouldn’t regret me.”
He’s quiet.
You’re quiet, but he studies you carefully, with aching reverence as you busy yourself more. “I was stupid.”
Satoru shuts his eyes, before he tugs you to him, cupping your face and trying to ruin you, his eyes glittering with emotion. “You weren’t stupid, you just didn’t know what a disappointment I would become.”
You can’t speak, you can’t say anything, heart hammering in your chest as he leans low, pressing a kiss on your brow that has no right being comforting, sighing and then stepping back, his hands shaking.
“You shouldn’t do that…” He laughs, a bitter, hollow sound, hands finally falling from your face.
“I could suck you off my fingers but not kiss your forehead?”
“It hurts more,” you admit, shutting your eyes, he sighs quietly.
“You’re going to train?”
“I am,” you murmur softly, looking back at him finally. “You’re going to work?”
“Yeah…”
Satoru walks away without another word.
*****
You bring the muffins and breakfast in a little warmer for Yuuji and Sukuna. The gym has started to feel like a little sanctuary, especially with the lingering confusion of Satoru Gojo. Sukuna is punching the bag and Yuuji is stretching, looking like a young carbon copy of his uncle, waving at you all bright and chipper as Sukuna just smirks at you.
“Good morning!” You smile and walk over, holding up the little lunchboxes now. “Ooh, for me?”
“Mhm! I made plenty too,” you look at Sukuna and grin. “Hungry?”
“Starving,” the way he says it makes your core tighten, he knows what he does with his words, when the three of you go over and sit, eating in Sukuna’s little office. “Fuck, you cook this good?”
“I love to bake,” Yuuji is on his third muffin, moaning.
“I love you. I mean!?”
“I’ll kick you through a wall, brat,” Sukuna glares and Yuuji looks frightened, you’re just giggling, handing him a little thermos.
“I made coffee too.”
“Oh it’s so sweet!” He’s happily sipping, before looking at you carefully, something feels so perfect about sitting here with both of them, even if you’re constantly being pulled in another direction.
Is this what it feels like to be split in half?
“Are you still hurt?” Yuuji breaks your heart, you shake your head and touch his shoulder.
“I’m okay, I promise!” He sighs and then peers over at Sukuna, clearing his throat.
“I’m going to clean up a bit, I have a class to get to.”
“Go ahead kid.”
“Thanks again,” he smacks a little kiss on your head, making you smile with affection, Sukuna carefully studying you, his expression unreadable as he leans back in his seat, raising a brow.
“Kuna? What is it? You’re quiet.”
“Did he eat these fucking muffins?” You snort in laughter, shaking your head and walking over, sitting on his thigh and letting him roughly tug you against him on his lap. “I’m serious.”
“No muffins for him, silly man,” Sukuna shoves one at you. “Not a single one actually.”
“You need to eat, I don’t like that you lost weight when you’re needing to gain muscle and train,” you flush at just how much he cares, snuggling closer and taking the muffin in your hand, biting it. “You haven’t been eating for shit.”
“It’s because I’m a little stressed,” his lips quirk up, his hand brushing against your thigh, making you wince. “Ah…”
“And stiff. Do I need to come over and massage you tomorrow night?”
“You could,” he sighs, swiping a little blueberry off your lips, humming to himself. “Are you doing a match tonight?”
“Yeah but if you need me…”
“Gojo isn’t going to bother me.”
“Mhm.” He’s glaring as you take another bite. “He doesn’t give a fuck if you eat or not, and I have to worry because you’re not living with me.”
You blink at that, his big arm wrapped tightly around you, you thoughtfully chew the muffin, his eyes unreadable. “Would you want me to live with you?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” You blush now, he chuckles a bit. “Don’t blush when I say I’ll fuck your ass, but you blush about that?”
“Hush!” He’s breaking out in a laugh that pisses you off, you shove off him and he tugs you back, kissing you mean and brutal, the way that steals your breath.
“Thanks for breakfast, brat,” he murmurs softly. “I’ll be over to give you that massage tomorrow night. Yeah?”
You bite down on your lower lip, nodding. “Yeah.”
****
𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖚
He supposes now is his payback for the two months he’s spent fucking girls in your house and having you listen – to have Sukuna come over as if this goddamn place is his too, and look at your pretty face brighten up. Your eyes are all dazed like he’s got you hypnotized, your giggles louder once he’s apparently ‘massaging your sore muscles’.
Sure, that absolutely sounds like you’re getting ‘massaged’ – the squelching of your loud little cunt, the soft whines and sounds of skin smacking, to the point he’s dripping precum from his tip. He rushes over and opens the door, scowling at the both of you, before pausing, the sight of you like that ruining him.
“Do you all have to be so fucking loud?”
It sounds ludicrous to his own ears as he stands there, Sukuna’s got you bent over, cock buried deep, your tits are slipped out of that sweater, the big loose one he has tugged down, when your eyes lock with his. He hates that his cock is aching, hates another man’s hands on what’s all his, the way you look up at him somehow innocent and sweet even while you’re actively getting split open.
Sukuna pauses his strokes, pulling you up on your knees, taunting Satoru with the image when he slowly pulls that sweater up and off you. He can see the bulge of his cock in your tummy, something he wanted for himself, something he was dying to have when he took you the first time.
Now, who knows how many times you’ve been fucked by Sukuna?
You look back at Sukuna for just a moment, your expression entirely unreadable, he wraps a huge tattooed arm around your body, kissing you possessive, before he eyes Satoru. His brows lower and his smirk shows, slamming up into you again, your tits bounce with the movement, further making Satoru ache.
“Gonna stand there and watch?” He says then, Satoru scoffs, looking away now. “Didn’t you make her watch?”
“Yeah,” he supposes he put you through this too, but the difference was your goddamn eyes, and the way you roll your hips now just so. “I did.”
“Bet you’re gonna jerk it to this, huh?” Sukuna makes Satoru wanna kill him, cut his arms off that are wrapping yours. “Jerk it to her all the time don’t you?”
“Tch, can you two just…”
“Come on then,” Sukuna brushes a hand down your back, pushing you on all fours. “You don’t deserve it though.”
“Deserve…” He sees your hands clutching the blanket, your lips parted, he walks over tentatively, Sukuna’s eased his movements, far too familiar with your body already. Satoru stands in front of you and your hand slips up his cock over his pants, making him suck in a breath. “You’re this slutty already?”
“Only I call her that,” Sukuna murmurs, Satoru quickly tilts your chin back up, staring at the girl he knows he fucked up with, knowing he doesn’t deserve a touch from you.
“What do you want?” He asks for the first time ever, you pause and blink just a bit, sighing as Sukuna slowly fills you up.
“I don’t know,” you admit softly. “Just to… forget. To… not think.”
“Yeah,” he breathes out ever so softly, undoing his belt, his cock is dripping pre right on your blanket. You whine out, this sound he can’t get out of his fucking mind, a hand brushing your hair back and holding it. “I don’t want to think either.”
“Say please, because she’s doing you a favor,” Satoru scowls right at the giant pink haired man in his wife, but then falters as he sees your eyes.
“Please, suck me… if you want - ah,” your tongue laps at his tip, his grip tightens hard in your hair, as your mouth wraps him, and fuck he could almost bust from just that. He’s whimpering from one little suck and a kitten flick of your tongue, as you’re forced to take him deeper, Sukuna’s thrusts jolting your body. “Fuck… feels s’good I just…”
“Should thank me, I taught her,” Satoru wants to kill Sukuna, but he also wants to fuck your throat until it’s stretched out, till it burns and you think of him, he wants to look into your pretty eyes and imagine you’re only his, that he didn’t ruin it all. Instead, he’ll take anything from you, anything at all. “Praise her, don’t just fuckin’ stand there, she deserves it.”
You moan around his length, eyes fluttering shut when his fingers dig into your hips, pressing in the flesh there, and then you look up at him all cross eyes, his pink tip against your uvula. “You’re doing such a good job.”
You suck him deeper and whine around him, he wishes you didn’t know how, that he was the one to show it to you, but he fucking knows that’s insanity. He knows he had the chance and actively shoved you off, turned you down every moment you tried, and that he doesn’t in any way deserve to have you choking on him, your soft little moan echoing in his ears as his own mixes with your sweet sounds.
Even sucking cock and getting fucked you somehow are sweet, cute, the way your nails press into his thighs and your lashes flutter – how is someone this pretty mid blow job? Satoru has shared women with his best friend, he’s not new to it, but he’s never been fucking furious that another man existed, that he was getting to feel your surely pretty cunt wrap him.
Satoru is so lost in your eyes he hardly notices the giant man he hates easing into your cunt, he doesn’t fuck you hard, it seems more intimate than that, the way his hand slips down the curve of your spine. Your moan around Satoru’s length, eyes damn near unreadable when he brushes your hair back, going to pull it and then stopping himself.
“Do you want me to pull your hair?” You pause and pull back, saliva dripping down your lips in a thick string, connected to his tip, Sukuna’s hands tighten their grip on your hips visibly dimpling your flesh.
“You can, I like it,” he wishes you didn’t know that you did, but he’s too needy and aching too much to say anything.
Does he have a right to wish that?
He’s had how many girls suck his cock since you all ‘got married’?
At least three women, so what if you got with Sukuna, he gets it. Deep down he doesn’t even fucking resent you for it, he deserves much worse for all the terrible things he put you through – but there’s another part of him that’s feral, that’s tugging your hair and fucking into your throat, wanting it to have his shape.
He wants you to know him, have his cum pouring inside you, but for the moment he’s sucking in a breath, fucking into your tight little throat now, tugging your hair back.
“Fuck you’re doing s’good,” you whine out, he takes one of your hands, sucking your little fingers in his mouth, shoving his cock deeper and feeling you drool. “So good. fuck…”
“She is,” Sukuna murmurs roughly, fucking into your cunt with the loudest noises. “That praise has you soaked, brat, is he finally doin’ something right?”
“Fuck off, Sukuna.” Satoru moans out though, you’re taking him fully, to where your nose is flush in his white nestle of hair, choking on him so your throat constricts. “Are you wet for me, sweetheart?”
“Mmm,” you let him fuck your throat now, clinging to his wrists, letting him rock his cock faster, the sounds filthy, along with the slams of your cunt from Sukuna. You’re swallowing around him, ass arching back for more.
“Gonna cum around my cock, milk me?” Your little hum is your answer, but when your eyes lock with Satoru’s?
Satoru can’t handle the way that look fucking ruins him – how he’d do anything to keep it in his brain forever, that look of devotion he wasted mixed with this look of fucked out pleasure. He doesn’t think anything will ever hit him like your eyes, his cock twitching inside your throat in response.
“Go ahead and cum,” Satoru whispers, brushing your cheek with a finger as he pulls back and eases his cock back in your throat. “Let me see you.”
****
𝖄𝖔𝖚
You shatter with one more stroke of Sukuna’s cock in your snug, messy cunt, Satoru’s eerie blue eyes looking down at you with something akin to reverence, something you wonder must be your imagination. Yet his eyes, his cock choking you out mixed with Sukuna’s thick cock wrecking your hole sends you over the edge, you feel Sukuna grip your hips, Satoru cupping your face.
A girl who just a week ago was a virgin now has two nine inch cocks inside her – Sukuna’s buried to the hilt, a thumb pressed in your other hole, Satoru Gojo with his pretty pink tip buried in the back of your throat. You’re moaning around it when Sukuna angles his hips and has your cunt gushing, squirting down his thick, veiny length and dripping down his heavy balls, full of cum.
Pleasure has you dizzy, almost falling if Satoru and Sukuna didn’t hold you up, your hands clinging to Satoru’s dress shirt, trembling and quivering around Sukuna as your orgasm ruins you. Have you ever cum this hard before, you can’t say you have, there was nothing like having blue eyes on your face, and red eyes boring holes into your skin.
“Look how much you came, messy, slutty girl,” Sukuna cooes like a sweet name, for Sukuna he did mean it that way, scooping up some of that slick now, leaning forward to press his cock impossibly deep. “Squirting for us again.”
Satoru exhales, pulling back and twitching hot and heavy against your mouth, his voice breathy. “So p-pretty when you cum.”
Your tummy clenches, already weak from the pleasure Sukuna has brought you, with the added insanity of the man who ‘hates you’ and ‘doesn’t want you’ whimpering as you suck him. Satoru eases back now, tip glossing your lips with his salty pre, your tongue laps it up eagerly, feeling Sukuna’s own spurting light little trails against your puffy cervix.
“Where do you want this,” he asks softly. “I’m close.”
“She’s that good,” you look back at Sukuna, biting your lip, his red eyes are dark, his thrust possessive, as if to remind you that you’re his. You push back on him, earning his eyes rolling back. “Fuck, backing it up on me? Learn so well…”
Satoru tilts your chin back to look at him, cock twitching and leaking white trails of his seed down in rivulets. “You pick where, I’ll cum in my hand if you want, or anywhere on your body.”
“My mouth,” he shuts his eyes and exhales, Sukuna chuckles just a bit, pressing that thumb in your other hole deeper, making you suck in a breath. “Mnh! W-want you both to finish inside.”
“That’s my pretty little brat,” Sukuna leans over you, tilting your chin to kiss you all messy, tugging at your hair, before murmuring in your ear. “I’ll fill you up, fuck all that cum back inside, all you want.”
“Please,” you’re trembling now, lost in how good you feel – you can’t think about anything else, just how good he feels, Satoru’s stroking his cock and you can’t help but bite your lip then. How would he feel inside you?
Should you feel terrible wondering?
“Swallow all of it, like a good girl,” Satoru’s words fuck you up, Sukuna surely feels you clenching around him, pushing him to get closer with every quiver. “Fuck I mean… Please?”
“Mhm,” you open your mouth and he spits right in it first, the action filthy, his eyes damn near going cross as he slips his cock back inside, and Sukuna drags your ass back to slam your cervix. “Mnph!”
“Takin’ both of us so well,” Sukuna’s praise is rough, it’s sensual, the way he controls your body, while Satoru’s strokes are easier, tentative.
“So well,” Satoru agrees softly – praise, from him? You never thought you’d see that, have that, it almost feels like there is no reality where it exists. “Can you swallow all of me?”
He pulls back again, letting you speak. “Mmhmm.”
Satoru’s cock is back dragging heavy on your tongue, the soft tip gliding against the roof of your mouth as Sukuna twitches inside you, you’re moaning and making Satoru more sensitive, eyes rolling back when Sukuna slams against your cervix so hard it hurts. You cum again, sending Sukuna and Satoru right with you, one flooding your throat, the other your messy cunt.
You’re so full of them you can hardly think, swallowing somehow sweet cum, as so much floods your hole, Sukuna’s other finger easing out of your ass with a pop, his cock gliding in and out and pushing into your cunt. “Fuck… takin’ it like that, such a good girl…”
“F-fuck…” Satoru’s stuttering, his hips bucking as you drain him, glides his cock right down your snug throat and feels it contracting, you suck every drop down eagerly. When he pulls back he exhales, kneeling and kissing your lips.
Satoru’s kissing you.
Sukuna eases out with a wet, messy pop, gliding two fingers in the creamy mess he made and pulling you back, slipping his own release in your mouth. You suck them eagerly while Satoru kisses down your neck, exhaling and whispering your name in your ear, Sukuna does the same while you suck his fingers, glossy against those rough, calloused knuckles.
Your eyes meet Satoru’s carefully, still trembling and kneeling, his hands glide across your breasts almost worshipful with his movements, thumbs brushing against your nipples. You feel split into two pieces then – no you haven’t forgotten what he’s done, you don’t pretend to know who he is, but for a moment you see it – what could have been, what you could have felt.
It hurts more knowing there was something there.
Sukuna’s fingers leave your lips, now you have both men in your mouth, on your tastebuds – overwhelming you. You swallow nervously as Satoru kisses across your collarbones, one of your hands tentatively brushes his hair back, the other reaching back for Sukuna’s sure grip, feeling it wrap around your wrist.
“She’s perfect, isn’t she,” Sukuna says lovingly, even as he’s gruff, kissing across the back of your shoulders where you’re slick with sweat. “Too good for you.”
“She’s too good for you,” Satoru says, Sukuna raises a brow then smirks.
“Yeah, she is.” You go to protest when he nips your shoulder, your thighs and arms are trembling, his lips on your ear. “You’re all mine, even if I let you have him too. Mine, just mine, had you first, didn’t I? Came inside, I’ll fucking keep cummin’ inside you too.”
“Sukuna…” You trail off softly, sometimes his ruby eyes are insane, like right now, his huge hand cupping your face.
“You don’t get to fuck those other girls then come here and use her,” Satoru scoffs at that. “I’m serious, I won’t have her getting something off your slutty secretary.”
“I use condoms,” he admits quietly, looking at you now. “You certainly don’t – slutty don’t ya think?”
Why does the way he says that fucking ruin you?
“Why would I use a condom when I can cum inside her?” Sukuna chuckles, the two men silently scowling at each other. “Besides, it’s only her I’m with.”
Only you.
It screams the truth – that Satoru was up until the other day still actively fucking other women, and now you are with Sukuna, but Sukuna just gave you the opportunity to suck Satoru, he shared you even though he’d not have anyone. It means a lot to a girl who’s wracked with insecurities, leaving you to look at Satoru curiously.
“I’ll give you a moment, but just one.” He smacks your ass and grips either side, nuzzling your neck. “If you want one.”
You nod shyly, turning to kiss him, tasting his cum right off his mouth, easing to kneel and feeling how sore you are. “Yes if you’re okay with it, Kuna.”
“Yeah well, let’s see if his dumb ass stops inviting messy sluts over,” you expect Satoru to lose his shit about that statement – but instead his gaze is fixed on you, and you can’t read those goddamn eyes.
Who even is your husband?
Sukuna walks around blatantly naked when he shuts the door, Satoru helps you up, heat rises in your cheeks when his eyes see the creamy mess of your pussy, you see his cock is already hard again, twitching with his tip so pink it’s almost red. Satoru sits on the bed then, hand brushing across your face, eyes completely unreadable when they study you.
“You can still be with who you want,” you whisper softly, sighing now.
“Who I want, hah,” he laughs without humor, confusing you more than ever. “You think I want them?”
“Well, yes? Sukuna just gets…”
“Psychotic and possessive?”
“Yeah,” you blush even more now. “It makes me feel really special. I guess that wouldn’t make sense to you.”
“No it…” He sighs and looks back down, hand slipping across your tummy, it trembles underneath his touch, the sticky mess coating your inner thighs. “Do you want me to touch you?”
“I feel fucked for wanting it,” you admit, blinking rapidly as he studies you, tilting his head. “It doesn’t change what’s happened, or everything you did. I want Sukuna, and… I want…”
“Me?” He finishes softly. You look away again as his fingers brush the sticky mess of your cunt. “Hah, another man’s cum inside my wife.”
“Temporary wife,” you correct softly, before you cry out, his fingers grazing your clit, making your eyes jump up. “Remember?”
“Yeah,” he sighs, finding your clit with ease and rubbing, spreading Sukuna’s cum so that it’s sticky, staring right into your eyes as he runs circles, your own eyes flutter shut. “Look at me.”
“Why?” He uses his free hand to tilt your chin up.
“I wanna see if it’s different when you cum for me,” he whispers, earning your look of shock.
“Why would you care, wasn’t it just fun?”
“Fun,” he laughs without humor, slipping two fingers in your sore cunt now, you suck in a breath at the sensation, as Satoru peers down at the mess you’re making, white and gossamer just gushing down. “Fuck you’re so tight… pretty, beat up cunt, look at you, shit…”
He’s shoving them deeper, tugging at your hair now, rocking them up and down. “Gojo…”
“Satoru, fuck please,” he’s desperate now, lips parted, hovering over you and pressing your back into the bed. “Got me so pathetic I’m fingering Sukuna’s cum inside you, at least call me Satoru.”
You swallow, unable to speak or think, it was one thing to suck him – another for him to rock his fingers inside, looking at you with insane, desperate eyes. You swallow nervously, Sukuna had let you have Satoru but what does this mean? You easily fuck Sukuna alone, and Satoru is your husband, but it feels so different with him, when he kisses your lips.
“Bet you'd feel so perfect wrapped around me,” his voice is hoarse, toxic, laughing as his fingers rock up and down, faster and faster, making you dizzy, lashes fluttering. “Wish I could have broke it, fuck wish it was all me. Now look, your cunt is a mess, stretched out, ruining these sheets.”
Every word fucks you up more, his kisses bruising, teeth clicking it’s desperate, a hand tugging your hair.
“Can taste myself,” he hums, tongue swirling, hitting this spot that makes you hiss, clinging to him, pussy drooling. “I'd fuck you so hard you wouldn't be able to walk. Fuck every thought out of your head till you're dumb. God the things I'd do to you.”
“Gojo you're so – ah!” His eyes go dark, feral grin on his face – the man that didn't want this now desperate, insane, obsessed, making your cunt squelch so loud it's obscene.
“Just lemme feel it grip me,” he sighs now. Cock leaking pre all over again. Moaning when you tense up, teeth sinking on your lip, his long fingers pressing against your cervix. “Cum for me, just once for me.”
He curves them deep again, you let out a moan that’s embarrassing how loud it is, fingers fucking you faster and faster, heel of his hand grinding right on your clit, watching you shatter for him. You’re twitching, squirting down his hand, he moans at the sight of it, studying you with dark eyes so unreadable, pulling those fingers out to run up your slit.
“You do look different,” he whispers, rubbing all that mess and shoving his fingers in your mouth like Sukuna did, you wrap your lips around them obediently, his own part at the sight. “Fuck…”
“Hmm? Mnh!” Satoru’s kissing you again, drinking your cries up, thumb pressing your clit in circles. “Sensitive!”
“God I could watch you cum all day,” he whispers, you shake your head, tears suddenly hitting your eyes when he looks at you, pausing. “So fucking pretty…”
“You’re so fucking confusing, Satoru Gojo…” He sighs, resting his forehead on yours, fingers entwining in your hair and tugging.
“Yeah, I know,” he sighs and pulls back a bit when Sukuna walks back inside, crossing his arms in the doorway. “Lemme guess, my time is up with my wife?”
“Yep.”
“I’m not an object to give or receive,” you cut them off then, Sukuna smirks a bit at that.
“I like you standing up for yourself,” he comes over, tilting your chin up, thumb brushing across your jaw, studying your slick thighs and tensing a bit. “Did he at least make you cum, or is he shit at it?”
“He did,” you whisper, Sukuna hums and leans over you, cock already leaky and hard again, your hands grip his hair as you let him kiss you, he eyes Gojo over your head now.
“When will he beg for your forgiveness though?”
Satoru tenses as you pull back, looking down just a bit. “Kuna, I really want a shower. Can we take one?”
He cups your face and nods, picking you up and carrying you the way he does, leaving Satoru in the room. When he is running that water you hug his chest, letting his arms wrap around you tightly, the steam filling the bathroom.
“Why are you letting him… letting me…”
“Listen,” he tilts your chin up, your head falling back to look at him. “You haven't done shit before me, and you had feelings long before I met you. I'd rather you figure this out with me here to protect you.”
“Kuna,” you're in tears now, he shushes you and guides you to the shower, where the hot water beats down on you both. “I'm fine if it's only us. I am.”
“I know,” he tilts his head, hands coming to wrap your waist. “You were in love with him, and I'm brand new.”
“I didn't know him then, it was like some fairy tale to keep myself alive,” he frowns at that, ruby eyes narrowing. “I'm falling in love with you and it's really fucking scary.”
He says nothing and you immediately feel anxious, taking shaky breaths as he studies you. “And I am with you, all of you – including that sado masochistic part that likes that white haired fuck.”
You giggle then, shaking your head. “Sukuna!”
“You're mine, I'm your first,” he whispers possessively, turning you around so your ass presses against his thighs, kissing down the side of your neck. “First in your mouth, in your perfect cunt, had you bleeding all down me huh?”
“Insane,” his words ruin you, the heavy spray of the water beating down, his hands cupping your tits which are sensitive with your ovulation. “You are my first.”
“Remember that when he's inside you,” you blush at the thought, he runs a thumb across your nipple and bites your neck. “Mmm, I'll only share if he gets his shit together though, I swear to god if those secretaries come over again I'll make them cry.”
You giggle at that, grinning over your shoulder. “I feel so at home in your arms.”
He pauses now, sighing. “Yeah?”
“That and the boxing ring, it's the only place I've felt at home ever,” your lips tremble now. “If he's inside me, I would never forget where I feel at home.”
“Fuck, you ruin me every day,” he groans and kisses you roughly, desperate, needy kisses, before pulling back and laughing. “He really fingered my cum out of you?”
“You're so sadistic!”
“Should get him a fancy cuck chair.”
“A what!?”
“You're cute,” you have no clue what on Earth he's on about, his hand possessive on your tummy. “Imagine the Gojo heir with pink hair.”
Sukuna is truly batshit crazy.
*****
𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖚
Satoru can’t stop picturing your mouth wrapped around his cock the next day, how could he have pushed it all away, let you fall in love with Sukuna all to ‘save you’ and ‘protect you’. Perhaps it was the best thing, to protect you and keep you away from himself, give you the choice to find love with someone who clearly is obsessed with you, who you moan for and look at with hearts in your eyes.
Yet how the fuck does he explain the look you gave him when you sucked him, when he fingered your lover’s cum right from that pretty cunt? The one he could have had first easily, but he was so set on making sure you had your choice – well you chose him until he made sure you ran off.
Perhaps Satoru didn’t account for how he’d feel, how when he looked down in your eyes and you whispered that you wanted babies he wanted to fucking give you them. He wanted to give you anything and everything just to forgive him and forget all the horrible fucking shit he did, the time he wasted on women not even close to your caliber.
The clock ticks on the wall with the little sounds echoing loudly, his fingers tapping on the cherry wood of his desk, unable to focus on anything without you running through his mind. Perhaps before he tasted you, before he had your throat swallowing and gagging around him, before he cupped your face and saw the pain he inflicted…
Perhaps then he could act unaffected, act as if any of this was acceptable or normal to him in any way. Satoru couldn’t help but think to himself how terribly he fucking treated you, and he’s never even apologized – sure, that night he did, after taking you away from your parents, but couldn’t he have done more? Couldn’t he have done what Sukuna did?
All this talk of being different, was Satoru different from his shitty father and what he did to his mother? Or did he turn into the very fucking thing he hated?
His door knocks, drawing his attention away. “Come in.”
You are opening the door with a box, his heart hammers in his chest, lips parted as you pause at the door, clearing your throat. It was normal for you to ‘show up’ for the aesthetics of a wife, but you usually just brought something now from take out, that looks like one of the damn boxes you made that he fucking made you cry over, with that note.
How much can a man loathe himself? Satrou asks himself that as you hesitate and don’t walk in fully, a flush on your cheeks. “Is it okay if I…”
“Yeah,” he breathes out the words and stands, you shut the door behind yourself with a click and walk over to him, hands trembling when you hand him the little box. “You… made me something? Why the fuck would you?”
You flinch and he curses, shutting his eyes.
“As in I don’t deserve anything from you, not that I’m irritated,” you ease just a bit, it’s so clear the way you must remember the last time you came in, everything about you is tense and on edge, you’re fidgeting with your hands nervously, looking all pretty in your little dress today.
“I am bringing Sukuna one later,” you answer, earning his jaw setting.
“Oh so your husband and your lover?”
“Yes,” he sighs, shutting his eyes and setting it on the desk. “I felt like we… am I stupid to think that we had… a moment or something and… maybe it’s nothing…”
Satoru cups your face, his hands overtaking it, looking down at you with his lashes lowered, looking into your eyes, anxiety filled ones already glimmering with your emotions. “I can’t stop thinking about last night. Thinking of your mouth,” his thumb trails across it carefully, breath ghosting yours as he leans down. “Your slutty cunt and how she gripped my fingers.”
“Gojo…” You trail off now, chest rising and falling with your breaths, he’s pressing you against the desk now, his hands sliding down your neck, your shoulders, the sides of your breasts.
“Why do you still look at me like you could ever not hate me? Why not look at me like I fucking deserve?” You swallow and look down at his mouth, then flicker back up to his eyes.
“If we didn’t meet like an arranged couple, do you think you’d have hated me so very much?” You whisper softly, making him pause when his hands slip to your hips, gripping and tugging them close, your hands fall on his chest.
“I don’t hate you,” you shake your head now. “I don’t – I fucking hate myself.”
“You love yourself more than anyone I’ve ever seen,” your hands grip his dress shirt now, little shaky breaths escaping your lips. “Do you love to confuse me?”
“As if you don’t confuse the fuck out of me, think I ever thought I’d finger some man’s cum? That I’d damn near beg to eat it out of you?” Your eyes get dazed, your pupils dilated, but your jaw is set, even as he bars you against that desk, arm on either side of you.
“You, eat someone out? Laughable,” he snorts just a bit, blue gaze flickering across your face, your throat, your pretty tits barely visible in that neck line. “Do you hate me less because I made you cum?”
“I don’t fucking hate you –” you scoff and he slams his lips on yours, moaning into the kiss as the door opens, and you both hear a gasp.
“Satoru!” He glares at the door as Jennifer rushes in, coming right up to the two of you now. “What’s she doing here!?”
“What the fuck are you doing here?” He says now, at his wit’s goddamn end with this girl, at least Chloe fucked off when he sent her. “I’m kissing my wife.”
His wife.
You’re his wife, for now, until you left him for Sukuna – until you gave him babies and were happy, Satoru could only hope to worship you until then, to beg for any bit of you that you gave – the pieces that he doesn’t deserve. Your pretty eyes looking up at him in that way that ruins his soul, your taste on his lips.
“The wife that is with another man?” You blink and look at her when she comes right up to you, snatching you up. “You want him suddenly, huh?”
You flinch once more – Satoru knows that’s your response even after the way you’ve changed, Satoru snatches Jennifer’s wrist so quickly she almost falls, tugging her off you and seeing her trembling lips and fake ass tears. “Don’t fucking touch her.”
She pouts as you rub your wrist, curling into yourself and hurting his fucking soul.
How could he have hurt you like your parents did? Not physically, but didn’t he do his damage?
“Satoru, I’m just-”
“Get your shit and go home, you’re fired,” you blink a bit and look at him incredulously, as Jennifer gasps.
“You want the world to know that I slept with you, what she is doing!?”
He laughs softly, walking over as she tries to fucking cling to him, opening the door. “Say what the fuck you want, like I give a fuck. Get out.”
“Satoru please I-”
“Suguru?” He shouts for his partner in his office across the busy room, he stands up curiously, the whole of the floor staring at the scene happening. “Can you please help Ms. Jennifer with her things and give her a letter of recommendation?”
“You can’t be serious!” She hisses, Satoru rolls his damn eyes, Suguru immediately comes up and sees you curiously behind Satoru, curiously clearing his throat.
“Sure, Satoru,” he says, gently taking her arm and shutting the office door, leaving the two of you alone in the quiet, his head resting on the door for a moment.
“Did I ruin that for you?” He looks back, narrowing his eyes and seeing you trembling, hugging yourself just a bit. “I know you were with her-”
“I couldn’t care fucking less, she shouldn’t have barged in and put her damn hands on you,” he walks over and takes yours in his own, studying them quietly. “I should have done more with your fucking parents.”
“I don’t think so,” you whisper, looking where his hand joins yours.
“Sukuna beat your dad, the night he fucked your pretty little cunt first, didn’t he?” Your eyes dilate, his voice breaking in the middle with his desperation about to ruin him utterly. “That’s what you wanted.”
“It’s not! I asked him not to, he just…”
“Loves you?” You look down again, earning him tilting your chin up. “He is in love with you.”
“He hasn’t said that yet but he cares for me, yes, very much so,” you suck in a breath when he rests his head on yours, breaths mingling together in the quiet of his office, with the sunlight filtering in.
“You love him.”
“I’m falling in love, yes.”
“Could you ever not hate me?” He asks now, tears filling his own eyes, you bite your lower lip, eyes glittering with unshed tears. “I’m not asking you to not love him, not fuck him, I earned that shit, I know.”
His fingers slip your dress up, gripping the smoothness of your thighs, the tension making him fucking ache, cock throbbing and leaking pre, dying to bury himself inside you. “What are you asking then?”
“For a taste of you, a goddamn piece of you until you finally get to leave me,” he sinks to his knees and looks up at you with his hands slipping your panties down, watching your thighs shaking, that slick on the inner parts of it. “Any of you that you wanna give me, I know I don’t deserve it.”
“Y-you want to… but you don’t…” You’re bare to him, he’s looking right at you, inhaling that sweet scent, you jerk when his breath tickles your skin.
“Let me lick your pretty cunt,” he murmurs, he never thought he – Satoru Gojo – would be begging to eat pussy, with his arranged, cheating little wife of all people, but he can’t imagine not lapping you desperately. “Let me drown in you.”
“You want to drown in me?” Your thigh shakes when he puts it over his shoulder, the noise of his office drowned out by the blood rushing in his ears and the heart beat racing.
He sighs, lashes fluttering when he inhales you. “Let me, fuck just let me taste you, how pathetic do you need me?”
You lean back on his desk, arching your hips and making him moan out loud, parting your plump lips and watching wetness trickle out, hearing your little gasp when he touches you.
“You’re soaked, sweetheart,” he murmurs, nose bumping your clit when his mouth kisses on your cunt – Satoru’s never bothered to be down like this, never cared to put in that much work with a woman.
Until you.
He’s dying to have you shatter for him, just once before you go.
Your answer is to blush all cute like you’re not ruining two grown ass men, hand gripping his white locks, and a little nod.
If Satoru wasn’t already fucked mentally from you before, he was now.
****
𝖄𝖔𝖚
Satoru looks at you with those blue eyes, the ones you can’t figure out to save your damn life, then he surges forward, clumsy and starving.
It's not skilled like with Sukuna, who knew exactly where to lick and suck to absolutely destroy you, it’s messy and desperate. His mouth presses against your clit as he targets it, sucking the twitchy little thing in it – wet and hot, his tongue lavishing you without any rhythm. He’s not even close to your spots but the way he whines out, the way he whimpers against you.
It’s impossible to not fall for those bright blue eyes, burning gaze as he’s drowning in you, his hands dragging you against his face. Your own are flying to his hair, his clumsy mouth devouring you so goddamn desperately, your own slick dripping across his pretty face as you lose yourself, arching further into him, your hips pressing against his face further.
“Why do you have to taste like this?” He whispers, voice thick with desire and his mouth full of your slick. His eyes darken as those pupils blow out, sliding a finger into your needy cunt, fucking right against your cervix and making you gasp, hands tugging at the roots of his hair. "See what you fucking do to me?”
You can hardly register the devastating way he learns your body, your eyes fluttering shut, Satoru adding another, stretching you out, scissoring them inside that needy, messy cunt that squelches. “Gojo…”
“Satoru, fuck,” he muffles those words against you, tongue flicking faster on your clit, his other hand stroking himself, before he sucks it and starts moaning, all messy with your cunt drooling on his face.
You’re overheated and dizzy as his fingers – long and thick – start pressing against your spot, he keeps analyzing you even while he’s messy, needy, honing in on every way you arch and tremble.
“Cum, fuck… just cum on me…” You’re crying out when he accidentally flicks his tongue just right, whining out when he’s standing and turning you around, sinking his fingers right back inside as he bends you over his desk. “Don’t think of him right now, don’t.”
“Did you fuck her on here?” You look back even as your cheeks are flushed, his fingers moving up and down, his lips brushing your neck, teeth sinking in your delicate skin. “How many times since we’ve been together?”
“I couldn’t count,” he admits now, pulling his fingers back just before you can cum, sucking your taste off them with his cheeks hollowing. “How many times has he cum inside you?”
“I couldn’t count,” you answer, his lips messy and mean as you unwillingly arch for him.
"Does he make you this wet?” Satoru’s undoing his belt, lifting your thigh and toying with that slit slowly, watching it drip down. “So wet you drip on the floor?”
“He does,” you admit now, whining out when you feel the blunt of his tip slipping down your slit, making you tremble. “He eats pussy better than you, he makes me squirt all over.”
“I can’t stand you,” he says with a soft laugh, tugging at your hair hard, making your head fall back, his tip hitting your clit and making you jolt. “I told you I didn’t fucking know how, mean little brat.”
“Me, mean? W-what a fucking joke, ngh,” you can’t do this, you can’t fucking do this, even if Sukuna told you that it’s fine, even if he swears that he’ll still want you. How can you fuck Satoru Gojo?
How can you fuck the man that broke you?
How is he the same man that just begged to taste you, the one positioning himself, making your eyes roll back. “I wish I fucked you first, wish your blood slid right down my cock like it did his.”
“Psycho,” you whisper out, scowling right at him, your hands gripping the desk as his hand lifts your thigh, tip taunting you. “Just fuck me, what are you waiting for? Wanna chat and have lunch?”
“You are mean now, fuck,” he’s moaning as if you being mean makes him harder, before he slams his lips on yours and shoves his cock inside you. “Oh my… f-fuck… you’re so…”
He says nothing for a moment, length buried all the way inside your cunt, as you’re throbbing around him, desperately trying to handle how full you are. “How many women were you inside, h-huh?”
“None of them fucking matter,” he gasps out, pulling back and slamming in, the sound messy and filthy. “None felt like you, god no one… perfect little cunt, fuck you for it.”
“Fuck you, Satoru,” he whimpers as he fucks into your cunt, and you can feel his tip dragging your spot, making you sensitive, gasping out for a breath, ass arching despite your words.
“You hate me, don’t you? You fucking hate me,” he moans now, burying his face in your neck, slamming into you harder, a hand coming to wrap your throat, squeezing ever so gently. “You should hate me, you shouldn’t let me inside you, shouldn’t even let me w-watch you with him.”
You hate his words and how desperate they are, you hate how good he feels when he steals your breath, you hate that you both could have been doing this instead of what he made you endure. You hate him utterly and completely, even as your eyes roll back in your skull and his pelvis slams that thick, lengthy cock even deeper inside your walls.
“I do hate you,” you whisper – nothing like with Sukuna, who you’re falling in love with every moment more and more, with Satoru it’s hatred, it’s toxic and terrible, even as he feels so sinfully good. “I do.”
“Good baby, you should,” he kisses you and squeezes your throat, shoving so deep inside that you almost scream out if he didn’t shush you with his kisses. “Cunt was made for me.”
“No it wasn’t,” your answer makes him glare, fucking you harder, mean with it, somehow reverently kissing you as his cock wrecks you, and you feel yourself even closer. “Mnh!”
“Was it made for Sukuna, baby? Does he hit your spots like this?” He slams in again and you whine out, looking into his dazed, psychotic eyes.
“He does,” your answer makes him moan, squeezing harder and burying his cock to the hilt, his hand snatching up yours, putting it on your clit. “Ah…”
“Play with that slutty lil clit f’me,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut when you spasm around him. “He showed you, huh? What to do?”
“Yes,” you whisper softly, letting his long fingers guide your own, the mess of your slick falling, when he whimpers, kissing you desperately, the pressure of his cock in your cunt making you shatter. “Ngh!”
“Don’t stay quiet,” he whispers – psychotically as fuck when you try to bite your lip, your clit twitching underneath your fingers as he slams deeper. “Make that noise, let ‘em hear me fucking you, your slutty cunt’s so goddamn loud.”
“You’re… whimpering l-like… a bitch,” he grins at that, laughing and kissing you. “Don’t make me like you.”
“You like my cock,” you’re spasming, his fingers taking over when yours fall, pinching your clit between two of them and watching you fall apart again, sucking in a breath for a moment at your rolled back eyes, the way your brows draw together. “Fuck you’re beautiful.”
“D-don’t… say that… please,” you barely manage coherent words as you squirt down his length, hips twitching, Satoru cups your face and looks at you with those blue eyes that were once cruel, now they’re desperate, his pupils so big they look black.
“So beautiful, fuck you are, god I w-wish I said it before,” you feel your emotions hit when he buries his cock to the hilt, crying out with his weight pressing you onto the desk.
“Gojo…” He pulls back and his cock slips out, dripping down on the floor with the creamy mess you two have made, sitting you on the desk and fucking you face to face, eyes tortured and so black they’re terrifying with those white lashes.
“Satoru,” you shake your head, even as he kisses you desperate and needy, slamming his cock so deep you feel him all over, curved tip bruising your puffy cervix, you’re crying out into his mouth, nails digging into his back over the dress shirt. “Perfect, you’re perfect, fuck you’re s-so… tight, so wet, so…”
You don’t answer him, you can’t think when he takes you over, ruining your mind just like Sukuna does, making you not think.
You can hardly breathe with his kisses, nose brushing against yours, breath ghosting your swollen lips. “Lemme cum inside, fuck… please, please…”
“You shouldn’t get to,” he sighs and pauses, hands tugging you even further down, shoving up your dress to look at the bulge move, moaning at the sight.
“I’m inside you, filling you,” you swallow – throat gone dry, his tie is crooked, collar coming undone, his hair falling out of its usual perfect place. Satoru is a mess, a whimpering mess for you, whispering your name like a devotion, his lips still taste like your slick. “Wanna fill you, have my cum coat those slutty walls. Please, what the fuck do you do to me?”
Sukuna asks that – what do you do to them?
You take a shaky breath, hand brushing over his undercut, his tip leaking as he thickens inside you, tugging him down for a kiss, making him moan into your mouth, tongue bullying yours, sucking all your oxygen till you can’t breathe. “Satoru.”
“Oh my fuck,” he busts inside you, burying his face in your neck as he takes over your body, teeth sinking into them as he bites and sucks, as if he’s marking you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck… god… n-never felt it that good…”
He’s mumbling as he floods your cunt with white, the warmth spreading in your core, you cling to him weakly, thighs spasming as he spills down his own length with the force of your orgasm. His teeth nip under your chin, his eyes drugged when he looks down at you, cock still pulsing as your aftershocks milk him for all he’s worth.
It’s quiet, then.
You hate Satoru Gojo even more now.
You hate that you could have had this if he wasn’t so horrible.
He brushes a tear aside, sighing and kissing your closed eyelids. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“For what this time?” You ask then, swallowing when he rests his head on yours. “For everything?”
“Yes,” he breathes out the words, pushing into your sore cunt. “Sorry I sent you to another man, now I have to watch you with him and dream you’re mine.”
You don’t know how much pain you can take, wanting to forgive and love a man that did this to you, torn now between what’s toxic and terrible, and what’s toxic and loving.
Sukuna was toxic too, but he loved you.
What did Satoru feel?
“I won’t stop seeing Sukuna,” he sighs and glares at you. “Just because we fucked. I am falling for him.”
“And what do you feel for me?” He asks, slipping his fingers across your cheek, blue eyes drinking in your face as his words brush over you. “Just hatred?”
“I don’t know,” you whisper brokenly. Taking a breath he eases out of you, his fingers slipping through the creamy, gooey mess, pressing it back in. “What are you doing, mnh!”
“His turn to play in my cum,” Satoru smirks as you glare at him. “Will you hate me less if I tell you I’ll never fuck Jennifer again?”
“And Chloe?” You stand up with his help, he sucks the mess of you two off, kissing you with it, your hands crumbling that fancy dress suit.
“Never, don’t care if I have to share you,” he sighs those words into your mouth.
“Really?” You look up at him, and he’s dead serious, nodding.
“No one,” you swallow nervously, backing off finally, thighs trembling. “Lemme guess, you gotta visit your boyfriend?”
“I do…” You adjust your dress, taking a shaky breath, laughing just a bit.
“What?”
“I guess since we’re all gonna be…” You trail off, what the fuck even are you three? “Well, what are we all going to do for dinner tonight?”
He smirks a bit. “I’ll let you and fucking ‘Kuna’ pick.”
*******
You swallow nervously as you walk over to Sukuna in his office after the gym is closing, and his gaze drifts across your neck, your shoulders, seeing how tense you are.
“I need to talk to you,” you whisper now, he just sets your lunch down and tugs you onto his lap, you gasp when you straddle him right in that chair. “Kuna I need to tell you-”
“He fucked you,” you swallow and nod. “I told you it was fine if you did, why are you panicking?”
You bite down your lower lip, entire body trembling when he cups your face. “How are you not disappointed, mad?”
“Why the fuck would I be, hmm?” He smirks now, his hands pressing so hard into your thighs they’re bruising. “Question is, did you tell him he sucked?”
You laugh with tears in your eyes. “I told him he sucks at eating pussy, and whimpers like a bitch?”
“Good girl,” you both laugh softly, your hands slipping up his chest, when he shoves your dress up, his pink lashes flickering, jaw setting as he gets serious now. “Pull my cock out.”
You bite down on your lip, doing just as he commands with his gaze serious now, crimson eyes flashing dark once he’s in your hold. He tugs your panties aside and eyes the mess your cunt is, raising one of his brows as he pulls the elastic.
“He cum inside that needy little cunt?” His voice is hoarse, you exhale, nodding, when he sits you on his cock and shoves all the way in, no prep, no touch, just slams it to the hilt, making it burn.
“Ah!” You’re trembling as he grips your hips bruisingly, lifting you and slamming you down once more, the burn and stretch making tears prick your eyes, ones he kisses off your cheeks, the little salty drops on his lips as you cry out from the stretch, the pain that’s so sweet.
“I told you I’d fuck his cum out, huh?” A little gasp escapes when Sukuna bounces you up and down his length, Satoru’s cum slipping down on his own cock with the mess of your own. Your eyes roll back, desperate gasps escaping your lips. “Slutty cunt didn’t need my fingers, did she? She wants all that cum, doesn’t she?”
“W-want yours, please,” he slams you down so hard you’re crying, sniffling out, nails digging into his bare shoulders. “Please, please…”
Satoru begged for you.
You’re begging for Sukuna.
“Show me you want it, brat, lemme see,” you rise up and down, your thighs sore and aching, Sukuna’s teeth biting where Satoru sucked. “I’ll mark you worse, fuckin’ bruise every beautiful inch of you.”
“K-Kuna… ah!” He sucks hard on your neck, moaning as you drip down his heavy balls, ready to breed your hole better than Satoru could, his words filthy, whispering your name like a mantra as he guides your hips, you’re lost in him, dizzy and floating, the pain the only thing keeping you tethered.
You fucked Satoru and he came inside – now Sukuna is fucking his cum out, and letting it drip down his cock.
You’re utterly torn, lost in the high that Sukuna gives, with the lows that Satoru is trying to fix, wondering if you can love two men, wondering if either of them could truly love you. Sukuna slams you down and pins your hips, making you wriggle and cry out, sniffling from the pressure, he groans.
“So pretty crying, is it too much, baby?” He taunts, gaze flickering. “Can’t you take me?”
“I can,” you sniffle more, trying to ride him, thighs shaking, head falling forward as he bites your neck again. “Kuna…”
“Make yourself cum,” his hand slips up your throat, tightening and squeezing, voice devastating. “Milk me for all that cum your slutty cunt needs, that’s it – take what’s yours.”
The maddening rhythm of you working him as he sits there, watching you ride him, grinding your cunt right on him so you drip down his pants, dress rumpled from two sets of hands on it – you’re lost in it, cunt aching.
When Sukuna pumps cum inside, teeth biting harder until a little bit of blood drips down your neck, you’re almost about to faint. Dizzy when he’s kneeling and you’re up on his desk, your thighs spread – you hardly realize he’s videoing it, the sight of all that white pouring, scooping it up and shoving it back inside.
“Kuna why’d you video?” You murmur, just for you to get a text from Satoru. You glare at him and he’s chuckling like a psycho. “You sent it to him!”
“I sure did,” he shoves his fingers deep in your sore hole, his lips trailing up your neck, your phone falling from your hand. “So, what are we having for dinner, brat? Are you cooking?”
Your phone keeps going off, you take a shaky breath, cunt a mess of both men pouring out of you. “Satoru said you pick?”
Sukuna snorts and kisses you, tilting his head. “I’ll pick then,” he nudges your neck, sighing and tugging you close. “Did you really tell him he sucks at eating pussy?”
“I really did!”
“I guess I’ll have to teach the little fuck, but,” he trails off and tilts your chin up. “He won’t ever make you cum like I can.”
Sukuna kisses you, he’s so rough you’re weak, not gentle or easy – like he’s kissing every frustration out, all you can do is fall into his arms, unsure of just what the fuck happened, and how you make any sense of it. You’re married and you have a boyfriend, one who is laughing sadistically as he marks every spot Gojo did even harder.
How does this end up?
plz be respectful in the comments as this was a LOT OF WORK - and I'll repeat again - THREE ENDINGS LMAO
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𐔌՞꜆. ̫.꜀՞𐦯 ִֶָ𓂃 the apple doesn't fall far from the tree with nanami.
note. art credits to @/aransmind — i took a good look at my og novel wip, typed at least 200 words, called it a day and opened tiktok. got this idea when i saw those cute family tiktoks, and i'm mad sleepy rn, woke up at 5 to accompany my grandparents to do taichi. best day ever though.
Kento often showers you with acts of service. Whether it being a kiss on your forehead, helping you carry your son's toys after his nap, smoothing down your hair after a good sleep, even pulling out the chair for you before you sit down.
Your son, Kenji Nanami is now 8 years of age. He grew up in a house full of love — and he spent 8 years watching how his father treats you. Kenji looks exactly like Kento, an exact replica minus your eye color.
"Mommy," Kenji sits down on the couch, watching you.
You held the vaccuum cleaner, ready to plug it in. The second you turn back, Kenji has already held the rug up for you to vaccuum. A smile popped on your face, "Why'd you do that for?"
Kenji grins, "Daddy always does it."
It doesn't stop there. Now, anytime dinner rolled by, Kenji already pulled the chair out for you to sit in before Kento does. Kento was baffled that his son had taken his job — not that he was complaining, in fact, he was a proud father.
"Aw, thank you, baby," you coo at Kenji, kissing his head.
Everytime you were about to take someone heavy, Kenji swooped in, even if you had to do it in the end because he wasn't strong enough to. One time, you were carrying a box of groceries and Kenji asked you to hand it to him — he ended up breaking the milk gallon open because he dropped it.
When Kento has to leave the house before the sun rise for work, Kenji wakes up before you do, running towards your room. He ends up sleeping in your arms and waking up when you do, with sleepy eyes, he murmurs out, "Mommy, hair."
His little hands pats down on your hair to neat it up just like Kento always do. He smiles proudly, "Mommy, pretty."
Every single compliment that escapes Kento's lips will be followed by Kenji, and Kento had learnt that. So, he had stopped the suggestive comments he used to say once in a while — the one time Kenji picked up on his suggestive comment was when Kento had accidentally slipped out the words, "You're so sexy."
However, Kento taught Kenji not to say it. And so, Kenji doesn't. He's a good kid. Kento is definitely a proud father when he saw Kenji helping his classmates, little hands filled with generosity. And people began complimenting on how good of a father Kento is for Kenji to turn out like this.
Kento would always say, "It's all my wife, without her, my son wouldn't turn up this way."
At times, Kenji pulls open doors for you to walk through. One time, he runs to push an automatic door — but was left confused when it had already opened while he was a few steps away, "Mommy, magic!"
Kento had to teach him about automatic doors. As his age adds up, Kenji began opening doors for other adults, holding the elevator door open for strollers and elders, helping a father carry groceries to his car, or helping a toddler who fell on the playground.
All his actions were replicas of what Kento used to do. Now, he just sits back and watches his son do it for everyone — even when Kento wanted to do it, Kenji stops him.
I guess what they said about "the apple doesn't fall far from the tree" is true.
Getting pregnant by the one person you were never meant to be serious about was already complicated. Being forced into a marriage with him only made it worse—especially when the lines you drew started to blur in ways you didn’t anticipate.
general content: female reader, accidental pregnancy, forced marriage, fake/pretend relationship, modern!au, fuck buddies to lovers, domestic fluff, blended family, mutual pining, smut, single dad!toji, toji is a zenin here, kinda rom-com coded, kinda slice of life, cliché if you ask me but who cares.
word count: tbd. | status: on going.
part one
part two
part three
note: okay, i know not a lot of people like the accidental pregnancy troupe or the pregnancy troupe in general, but i lowkey do, so, if you know this is not your cup of tea, please keep yourself from reading this :)
Synopsis. Your duties as a nanny are simple: pick Itadori Yuji up from elementary school, bathe him, feed him his veggies, and take care of him until his hot blond dad gets home. It doesn’t include something like…spending Valentine’s Day with the overworked, overstressed, absolute DlLF Nanami Kento. Does it?
Does it?
Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, older!Nanami, age gap, DlLF!Nanami, reader is in early 20’s, Nanami is in 30’s, he’s overworked and STRESSED, down bad!Nanami, desperation, Valentine’s Day, pùssydrùnk Nanami, oraI (fem rec.), p talking, p sIapping, punishments, dégrading but also soft Nanami, spítting, bíting, fíngering, yearning, teaching you, fírst times (yours), Iessons, talking you through it, he’s stern, he’s BIG, BRÉEDlNG BRÉEDlNG BRÉEDlNG, matíng presses, manhandIing, cervíx smoochin, overstím, vírginíty loss (yours), corruption, he’s feraI, DÚMBIFlCATION, calling you ‘momma’, mentions of kids, implied marathon, HEADLÓCKS, creampíes, cúmpIay, Yuji cameos, Papamin, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 15.7k
A/N. BOO! SURPRISE VALENTINE’S DAY POST?! HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY BABYGIRLS <33
Nanami can’t help but sigh—“One more meeting and I’m quitting.”
Even though he knows he wouldn’t.
Those boxed-in, white-collar jobs felt just as lukewarm to quit as they were to work. One learns to numb oneself to the constant drone and sputter of the office, the ceaseless fury of a microwave that wouldn’t heat, and the wail of a printer printing listlessly furlong - too far behind its service date. So was there even a point?
That stupid screech followed him even out of the office: one could ignore the cracks and jolts of joints, but that doesn’t actually stop the noise.
He feels a headache coming on.
But Nanami can’t lie- the pay wasn’t all too bad. Besides, the extra hours helped him pay for the nanny he’d recently hired for Yuji—speaking of, he could hear you shuffling about inside.
His key’s just reaching for the door before it swings wide open.
“Welcome home—!”
And Nanami Kento can’t understand that strange, sweet flutter in his heart.
One of his hands jerks upwards- right to the pounding space above his heart. He knows he must look a bit of a sight right now - a grown man pawing at his chest - and part of him wonders whether this was all the all-nighters taking a toll on him. About time.
But another part of him wonders whether he should consult a cardiologist.
Also about time.
Because it’s been like this ever since he hired you - the vetting process for finding a nanny had been a long and tedious one. And Nanami had rejected (he’s sure) at least fifty different candidates, had been blocked by five different agencies, before he finally landed on you. Either they’d been too strict, or too lenient, or too new, or simply not cut out to handle the benevolent whirlwind that was his adopted son.
The poor man had been on the verge of giving up.
In fact, he was two paragraphs into an email to HR whilst stress-eating a homemade Danish pastry and wondering whether buying his boss flowers would be overkill- when it happened. God, could this day get any worse? First his manager gives him a ton of work just before he clocked off, certainly not in his list of responsibilities, then he’d burned those damn Danish pastries, then one of the nannies he’d interviewed had nearly passed out at the sheer energy Yuji had.
He’d been working more and more these days. And Nanami needed just a few more months - a few more nights putting in overtime before he could-
It was then that the doorbell had rang.
Ba-dump!
He opened the door tentatively, hoping that it wasn’t yet another ambush by a salesperson - each with their bright plastic garbage, and their even brighter smiles. But what he’d been met with instead wasn’t one of those visitors he dreaded…not in the very least. It was you—
And your explanation that you were here because of Shoko.
“Erm- she told me that you were looking for a nanny?” You flashed your conversation with Nanami’s clinical friend as proof. He flickered his gaze over to the screen but his eyes remained unreading—he remembers turning them back over to you.
Blinking at the vision of you.
And you’d slightly jolted at the intensity in them.
Digging through your pin-covered bag, “I also have my CV in here…somewhere.” He watched as you only grew more and more frustrated as that CV evaded you- “It really should be somewhere- give me one second-”
“That’s alri-”
But instead of your CV, your bag had poured out notes and pens in return. So much of it that Nanami marvelled at just how much fit inside that humble satchel. They dropped to the floor and you dived to pick them up, wincing. “I’m so- sorry-”
“Let me.” Crouching down in front of you, Nanami’s much-larger hands had had no trouble scooping all those papers up. In an instant he had them aligned neatly and handed to you. Prim. Proper.
By the tie still ‘round his neck, you guessed he’d just come home from work - and little did you know he’d also just finished four failed interviews for the position of nanny - yet he didn’t have a single blond hair out of line. They were slicked-back and handsome in a way you’d seen only in old movie stars. You thought you saw a few strands of silver.
Lines at the edges of his eyes. That tired strength about him.
It was hard to not ogle him.
Your fingertips brushed his rougher ones as you took the papers from him. “Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure.” The older man peered down at you—so intense that you could almost feel yourself sinking into the mediocre polyester carpet lining the apartment hallway. Neither of you made a move to get up. “I want to ask you about your availability.”
You’d jumped slightly. “You…you actually want to hire me after that- I mean!”
“Should I not?” And what was this? Nanami Kento had to stifle a chuckle at that? How curious…it must’ve been the work day getting to him at that point- yes. He was feeling a little delirious.
“I mean- please do…”
He’d looked away with a slight smile once you reached into the depths of your bag once more. This time, you didn’t make it erupt in scribbled notes- instead you were pulling out a printed table that looked to be a time table. “Sorry I just- printing makes it easier for me to remember…sometimes.” You explained, “I don’t have any lectures on Wednesday and Friday- and the ones I have on the rest of the weekdays are rather flexible so—”
A college student!
Nanami’s jaw had dropped then.
He knew you looked young but-
A college student?!
“Wait a minute…” One of his hands twitched, almost as if to beckon that time table to himself and make sure.
But then you nodded, “I first met Shoko-san during a medical conference she gave at the university, and she told me you worked late on weekdays. I should be free in the evenings then, but will you be working late on the weekends as well? Because I do have this one professor that really-”
Nanami didn’t know how on Earth the topic of him would’ve even cropped up in your conversations- but he needed to end this.
Now.
Listen. It wasn’t that you seemed like a bad kid- you seemed great, even! But Nanami himself was well into his thirties with absolutely zero idea on balancing Yuji and his work life. So he really didn’t want to burden someone over a decade younger than him with-
“Papa?”
The sweetest, sleepiest voice echoed from inside.
He doesn’t even have to turn his head to know that Itadori was swaying, all decked-out in his Spiderman pajamas, at the end of the hallway. Likely having gotten out for water or because of the ruckus caused outside. He blinked his sluggish eyes open and ogled the two of you.
Nanami doesn’t know why- but he shoots up to a stand. Almost as if he was caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.
You followed.
Which one of you three was the responsible parent here, by the way?
His parched mouth opened to—what? There was nothing to explain.
It was true that Nanami hadn’t had the time to even stop and think about dating or relationships in the time since he’d adopted Yuji. Not even if he wanted to. And, admittedly, he did have dreams of getting married one day - he watched all those sappy TV shows, alright? He knew how it felt.
He wanted to walk beside someone to that shrine. He wanted to have a few more kids, to give Yuji a bigger family than this. He wanted to quit his dead-end job and move out with his family to a bigger house in the countryside.
But none of that was as important as his son right now.
However, he knew that Yuji saw all those happy couples during pick-up at the elementary school- and his boy was sweet. The sweetest, actually. Nanami knew that Yuji wouldn’t say a single thing about him being the only exhausted father to arrive all alone. Day after day.
The two of them in their lonesome.
His sweet boy would beam the biggest smile nevertheless.
But kids were smarter than adults gave them credit for. Doesn’t he feel that loneliness, too?
Perhaps that was why Yuji ran up to you in an instant.
Right past his haggard father and only towards you - all previous sleepiness now gone - he reached up towards the pretty stranger with the pretty pin-covered bag.
Stubby finger pointing up at a particularly red one—“Do you like Spwiderman, too?”
“Of course.” Leaning down, you smiled warmly at the boy. His hair was a rose-colored mess that stuck up at all odd angles. “And my spidey senses are telling me that a certain someone does, too?”
He gasped, “That’s me!”
Before Nanami knows it, you were held hostage and dragged inside by a particularly overactive pink-haired boy. Shown all around the apartment as part of your tour to be shown-off Yuji’s prized Spiderman-themed bedroom.
And unbeknownst to him - against that lock-and-key and jaded guard - you’d walked into Nanami Kento’s cozy Tokyo apartment (and the strange cavity in his chest that softened whenever you were around).
He sighed.
A college student!
Still, Nanami can’t deny that it’s been a delight having you around.
Despite your packed schedule and your note-filled bag, you were always there to greet him when he came home. Without fail. Either tapping away at some assignment due before midnight, or humming to yourself as you wiped down the kitchen counters—last minute fluffy pancake emergency, he thinks of those nights.
Even though it’d been about eight months since your initial meeting, it’s almost fearsome how easily he’d gotten used to the routine of it all.
Something that should be so mundane - he flips each moment through his mind over and over again until it felt like they made up the grooves of his brain itself. The gyri and the sulci. Or so he’d heard you muttering to yourself as you studied one night.
He’s studied, too. He’s memorized how you’d open the door for him, with a smile across your face and a finger to your lips- telling the older man to be quiet as he shook off his shoes. He’s memorized how you’d never fail to tell him about the leftovers in the fridge as you reached for your satchel. He’s memorized how you’d hesitate to meet his gaze- but smile the brightest once you do, and how you’d linger at the doorstep telling him about Yuji’s day.
Nanami has memorized how it made some dust-covered part of his heart stir. Blinking away the exhaustion of the day.
Nanami Kento has never felt more invigorated than he is during those sparse few minutes that he caught up with you at the end of the night. Voices low, like neither of you wanted to interrupt a sleeping thing—Yuji, yes. But something else, too.
He gets the feeling that it’d feel like this even if you weren’t around as a job. If perhaps the two of you had met- the same age, at the same university.
Maybe in-between the sluggish hours of study sessions where you help him with some particularly hard question. Maybe in the library where he helps you reach some dusty ol’ book from the topmost shelf.
Times like this, he allows himself to dream.
You’d make the best wife.
You were the best nanny he could’ve ever chosen.
But one always has to wake up to one’s alarm. He sets his alarms himself.
“Come in.” Nanami tells you as he shrugs off his coat at the entrance. He watches as you stop in your tracks at the doorway, fiddling with your familiar pin-draped bag. “I’m just about to fire up some brownies for tomorrow.”
You pause.
“I-if it’s not too late and you don’t have any classes early tomorrow or-”
“I’d skip all my classes for some of your brownies.”
He lets out a breath of relief as you start walking back from the doorway. “Please don’t.”
It takes a little less than half an hour for the brownies to bake until they are crisp on the top and perfectly gooey in the middle. Layers of chocolate that are only sweetened by the conversation that you brought into Nanami Kento’s humble kitchen.
He listens as you talk about your day, about that professor that’d been out to get you, about that exam you were sure you’d fail (he knows you won’t in the end). Only adding brief hums of affirmation and nods as the older man sweeps through his counters, broad back turned to you, muscles flexing against his office shirt as he whipped up a hot fudge as well as a strawberry sauce for you to add to your brownies.
“—and you’d never guess what Yuji told me today.” Tonight you seem a little more breathless than usual. Stuttering out your thank-yous as he brings out the tray from the oven and cuts out the first piece for you.
“Blow on it. It’s hot.” Nanami leans over the other side of the kitchen island. He watches as your pretty lips fall into a soft circle, “What were you saying, my dear?”
“Well-” You dart your gaze around the rest of the empty apartment. “You know how it’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow, Nanami-san?”
Nanami runs a hand through his silver-streaked hair. Smoothing it down. He knows how his son can be, and he has to bite back the grin that threatens to spread across his face. “Mhm?”
“Yuji here seems to think that- well…” Bringing a hand up to your lips, fingertips slightly shaking. The brownie was just amazing. “He seems to think that Valentine’s Day is a bit like Christmas, you see. And so the entire day he wouldn’t stop making a list for Cupid.”
Now that piques his interest particularly- Nanami was never a man to skimp out whenever his loved one wanted something. “Oh, is that so? And what does he ask from this ah- Cupid?”
“That is- I don’t even know if this is appropriate for me to say but…” Looking around one last time. “But it seems Yuji is under the impression that we are together.”
“Oh.”
“Together together.”
“Oh.” He can’t help but inch just a little closer- a strange weight in his stomach. Not entirely unpleasant. “I see.”
You’re mustering up a little more courage, “And it seems that what Yuji wants the most this Valentine’s is…for us to get married. Spiderman-themed wedding, he says.” Watching as Nanami’s eyes slightly widen. “B-but of course, I told him that that might not exactly be in erm- Cupid’s range of power! He kept insisting however-”
He looks at you silently as you rub your temples.
“Because then he said a little brother or sister would be fine, too…” Was it time for the conversation about the birds and the bees already? Instead of storks, Yuji relies on Cupid?!
Nanami follows suit, running a hand through the silver streaks in his hair. “Is that so?” He sighs. “I shall have a little talk with him about asking…immoderate requests of Cupid.”
“He’s a sweet boy. Just a little confused.” You smile sheepishly. “Though I can’t really blame him- my friends think we’re together, too.”
Just an inch closer. “I see.”
And Nanami feels your breathing go heavy- enveloped in the hint of his cologne, the sweetness of the brownies, the musk of something that was entirely him. “I-it’s silly, isn’t it…”
He stares at you intently, reading your every reaction. “Quite.” Pupils flickering down your face. Just another inch closer—you wonder how much more space was left, and what you wanted to do with it. “I’m far too old for you, my dear.”
Your lips part-
The clock strikes eleven.
Both of you startle as if shocked with electricity- “I-I really should-”
“Yes, I understand-”
“The brownies were amazing-”
“Please, take this.” He pushes a bag topped with that delicacy and more of whatever topping you liked into your hands.
“Thank you so much.” You rush out breathlessly, other hand snatching your bag from the counter. “Night, Nanami-san—!”
“Goodnight, my dear.”
“And thank you for the brownies!”
The door shuts—with a lingering creak and ebb of your smile behind it. And soon enough Nanami finds himself lumbering in the direction of Yuji’s bedroom.
It’s not long before he stands before the parade of red and blue and masked superheroes: personnel stationed all to take care of the boy with a tuft of pink hair. His precious treasure. Nestled in the middle of his car-shaped bed.
A small bedside light traces a glow across his chubby cheeks.
As he does every night, Nanami walks up to the little boy and crouches down beside the bed. Forearms rested upon the soft mattress, face rested upon his forearms- it was always around this time that Yuji would stir and look up at his father.
“Papa…” He sleepily mumbles. Rubbing his sleep-swollen eyes, “Gone?”
“Mhm.” Nanami nods. “Left just now, sunshine.”
“Awww, man—” Yuji seems to deflate- but that only pushes him deeper into the puffy pillows. Making him yawn so wide that it makes the older man chuckle. “I really like her, papa.”
His father pauses before he answers. “I like her, too, Yuji.”
“No, but- I really like her. You know, she’s my best friend along with Kugisaki and Fushiguro and you-”
Nanami starts tickling the boy on his sides until he bursts into peels of laughter. “Really, huh?”
Through giggles, he nods. Before stretching his arms above his head and falling back onto the comfy bed- perhaps he was still dreaming. “Why can’t we keep her, papa?”
“We can’t just keep people, Yuji.” Nanami has to hide his own smile. He knows he should mention the thing about Cupid right now, but he just can’t bring himself to do it. Maybe tomorrow…
“Yes, but…”
“I know, I know.” Nanami pushes his face deeper into his strong forearms. Sometimes, he still felt much like a kid himself. “I get it.”
.
.
.
The next morning, Yuji still wasn’t giving up.
“Papa, it’s Valentine’s Day!”
Papa was about to burst a blood vessel.
He’d chattered on and on about Valentine’s Day as Nanami shuffled him out of bed, he’d announced what chocolates were the best according to his very distinguished five-year-old palate as Nanami helped him brush his teeth—he’d even turned his nose up at the heart-shaped scones that Nanami had made for breakfast.
“Papa, you’re gonna hafta make better hearts than this if you want to marry-”
“Yuji, sunshine, we’re going to be late.”
Nanami Kento was barely a match for his son. And it’s with something akin to relief - like the exhausted sigh of a stranded man, finally coming across the silhouette of a rescue boat in the bleak horizon - that he manages to hurry the boy into finishing his breakfast. Tuggin’ on his Spiderman backpack, Nanami held Yuji’s hand as they exited the apartment.
Today wasn’t even a school day.
It wasn’t even a school day! And yet the teacher wanted all students in for a short assembly and some chocolate party in class. Nanami would be damned if he didn’t let his son enjoy these small pleasures.
The elementary school that Yuji attended was only a short distance away from the apartment- usually they’d just make the trip by foot. During those ten minutes it’d become routine for the little boy to jabber away about whatever came to his mind.
How unfortunate for Nanami Kento today that, today, all Yuji could think about was you—
Not because Nanami wasn’t doing much the same- but because he didn’t like thinking of himself as doing much the same. Even though he knew. Query: if both father and son couldn’t get you off their minds, then which one of the two was going to use it?
The older man shakes his head just a little as Yuji suggests a Spiderman wedding cake again—he disagrees with both the cake and…the wedding. Right?
But the boy catches the movement and pouts-
“Why don’t you want to tell her, papa?”
They’re stopping at a red light. Nanami didn’t want to think about how those miniscule bulbs had been programmed to flicker in the shape of a heart today, instead of the usual pedestrian walking. What an apt metaphor for his life, no? Nanami Kento wanted to find something wrong in the traffic light - in the visibility, the practicality, the color - but he couldn’t.
In fact, it was rather pretty.
The crossing threatened to bubble over with salarymen and salarywomen and groups of families each hoping to be the first, the fastest, to jump the road. He tugs both himself and Yuji more towards the back where they were well out of the way of whizzing cars. Is it just him or were there more wedding cars than usual today?
“Tell her what? To marry me?” He absent-mindedly answers, “What did I say about no forced marriages, Yuji?”
“No.” He lightly stomps his feet. Making the blond man look down- “I mean why don’t you tell her that you like her, papa?”
And Nanami can’t help but look around like a caught teenager. “You- you can’t just say those things, sunshine! What if she’s heading to class and nearby…”
“But you told me you did last night?” Yuji answers.
Which, fair. And it leaves Nanami slightly at a loss for words. “I…”
“But why can’t you tell her?” The child nods sagely to himself, “S’like when I broke Fushiguro’s red crayon- and I told him. Don’t you always tell me not to lie, papa?”
“That’s…true.” His father hesitates. “But that’s different from-”
“But anyway- that’s why I asked Cupid.” Yuji hums. Content. “You’re a scwaredy-cat, papa, but I asked Cupid for you. Like Santa. And Santa always gives me what I ask for.”
One day, Nanami will consider telling him that Santa had to work a month overtime to get him that car bed—happily however. But that day’s not today. “Oh?”
“Yeah.” He looks up at his father with wide, innocent eyes. “And I also asked Cupid for a bwother- maybe this year I should ask Santa, too.”
“Oh.”
“Do you think Cupid will make my wishes come true, papa?”
“I’m…afraid I can’t be sure, sunshine.”
The light turns green.
And Nanami’s the first to step out onto the road.
From here, even the crosswalk seemed to twist and turn into the shapes of hearts.
Along the rest of the way to his elementary school, Yuji tugs on Nanami’s coat and asks him for his phone—“Alright, but no games before school, Yuji.”
“Not playing games!”
And he didn’t think much of it.
Not until Nanami was on the subway heading to work, about to shoot a phone call to one of the contractors he’d be working with today- and he finds Shoko’s name in his call log.
Outgoing call → Shoko [8:01AM]
Lasted three minutes.
How strange. Nanami doesn’t remember calling his friend at any point today - it must’ve been Yuji during his walk to school.
A mistake?
How strange, indeed…
But to be quite honest, Nanami doesn’t get the time to ponder upon this happening too deeply. The very second he’d considered clicking on that name himself and asking Shoko- the train had slid to a halt at his station.
Then came the chaos of the office: it seems that one of the interns had forgotten to fax a file yesterday. And Nanami had five angry clients on the phone before 9:00AM, one presentation to lead before 10:00AM, a few more angry clients just after the meeting, and a few more contracts to type up and edit before 12:00AM. Those utterly gaudy pink decorations hung about the room didn’t do anything to help with his oncoming headache.
Everyone in the office knew not to wish him today.
By the time that the overworked man was free for lunch, it was close to 2:00PM. His joints pop as he stretches his arms above his head, flickering a look at the clock above.
It was almost time for Yuji to be let out. Nanami knew you’d be humming to yourself as you walked to his school - and if his son was there, he’d join in, too.
At risk of sounding like a creep, he admits that he’s often listened to the low drift of your voice as you walked out of his apartment. It would start up once he shut that door. And he often stood there - on the other end - until it disappeared. Along with the sound of your footsteps.
His house always seemed smaller then.
Shaking his head free of such thoughts, Nanami stands and walks out of his department, wondering what he’ll have for lunch today. This usually wasn’t a problem with him, but this morning he’d been rather a bit…frazzled. So to say.
All those questions and ‘requests’ that Yuji had left him with just barely enough rationality to scrounge up something for the boy. As for himself, he was meandering through the busy streets of Tokyo - tarmac carpets flying by at a pace faster than he ever seemed to be able to. How was it possible for something inanimate to soar, to race, to live more than he did? Was it always built this way or was he one of the unlucky few?
He wonders which category you’d fall into.
That cheap ramen shop down the street wasn’t too bad - their broth was so good that Nanami was almost able to ignore the sappy love songs crooned from their battered radio. They had a special deal going: 80% off for all couples on Valentine’s Day! All ribbons and glitter. All special pink desserts and lovers holding hands. All love…love and a happy elderly couple behind the counter - the owners, it seems.
It was quaint- cute. The type of place he thinks you might like.
As he was walking back to the office, it seemed as though the city was fit to brim with similar sentiments.
Flower shops bursting with bouquets like carnivorous sunsets, bleeding hearts and ruby-red roses. Candy shops with something sweet for every color of the rainbow—and more covert advertisements for more…adult indulgences. Sex shops that Nanami had to speed-walk past because of how full and flush they were. Ripe with Valentine’s Day.
Nanami Kento might try to ignore what today is, but the world sure as hell wouldn’t let him forget.
Once he finally runs back to his cubicle- he ducks his head and focuses his eyes solely on the computer screen. He hopes no one comments on the numerous glitzy bags beside him.
.
.
.
“What the hell are you doing in my apartment?”
“Y’know- most people would say—‘Wow, it’s so nice to see you. Now I should totally stop brushing off your invites for drinks. Thank you for being such a kind and respectful and understanding friend, Ieri Shoko.’” The woman in question stretches languorously on top of the couch, her test tube-patterned socks dangling from the other side. “And you’re welcome, by the way!”
Nanami raises one hand in front of him- almost as if to pause the scene entirely. He closes his eyes—when he opens them, he hopes that this had all been a bad dream and he’ll wake up to his glaring computer screen.
He opens them.
Nope- still real.
“Let me rephrase- what the hell have you done to my apartment?”
Shoko gets off the couch and gestures at the apartment like a magician showing off a trick. “Ta-da!” At all the yellow candles that cast miniature sunrises where they wept, at the music that crept sensually from some mysterious corner of the room, at the humble dining table that now looked like it came out of a Times’ 10 Best Spots To Take Your Lover for Valentine’s Day.
Nanami’s stern lips part as he takes in the silver-covered dishes on top, on top of some white cloth—was that his goddamn blanket?!
“Oh c’mon-” Shoko rolls her eyes. “Don’t act so surprised, I see the bouquet in your hands. You obviously planned something of the sort.”
He forgot about that damn thing. Nearly dropping those flowers in his haste to hide it behind his broad back, though there was really no use - he simply couldn’t stand Shoko’s laughing eyes any longer. “Th-this was for Yuji.”
“I see the smaller bouquet in the bag.” She points out. Almost empathetically, Shoko sighs. “You really aren’t slick, Kento.”
“This isn’t- this is just—” But the longer she smirks at him, the less he seems to have an answer. Soon enough, he’s bringing out that massive bouquet from behind him and letting his friend fawn over the thing.
“Wow, she’s really going to love this-”
“It’s called being nice, by the way!” Nanami answers, belatedly.
The look Shoko gives him is enough to make him click his mouth shut.
“I hope you know that I bought one to give you tomorrow…I’m throwing it out now.” Because no matter how much Nanami denied it, today was about love. Parental. Platonic. Even the love that he could never have. As Shoko rummages through the bag with an excited squeak, he drawls on. “Where even is she, by the way? What have you done to her?”
“Hm? Oh, Yuji called me this morning. Thank you for these, by the way.” Shoko stands with a beautiful yellow rose and purple zinnia bouquet in her arms. She sniffs at the sweet fragrance- “Yuji called me asking whether he should leave out cookies for Cupid just like he does with Santa. It seems he wanted Cupid to bring us a wedding, and guess what? I wanted Cupid to bring us a wedding.” Her face breaks out into a smug smile - the one he’s only seen when she used to cheat through biochemistry exams without anyone ever knowing. “So we called up your darling nanny and let her know that her schedule’s changed for today- then Yuji and I did a little sprucing up in here.”
“Sprucing up…”
She turns around to admire her work, “Honestly, Kento, if I knew that you didn’t have a romantic bone in your body then I’d have dissected you-‘
“Papa!”
Spared from hearing whatever gory plans that Shoko had for him by the excited yelp of his son—Nanami hears his footsteps before he sees him. He feels the impact before he sees him.
Yuji’s running down the hallway and launching himself at his father at full speed- “Papa, you’re home!”
“That I am, sunshine.” Nanami smiles down at the boy. “How was your day? I have something for you.”
“For me?” Tufts of pink curls bobbing as he cocks his head, following his father’s movements as Nanami crouches down and reaches into one of the bags. Before breaking out into the most brilliant smile at the sight of the flowers. “Woah- they’re so pretty—! Thank you.”
Crushing the bouquet of pink carnations and hydrangea to his chest, he wraps his arms around Nanami’s shoulders and hugs him.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, papa. I’ve got a gift for you, too-” Breaking away, Yuji’s throwing an arm out towards the room at large. “Auntie Shoko said this was how you bring Cupid! And we also tried to make those heart-shaped cupcakes you make, but it tasted like tar so…”
“That’s perfectly alright, Yuji.” He swipes at a smear of icing still on the boy’s face. “We can learn together on my next day off, right?”
“Right!” Yuji jumps in excitement. “And after your wedding today-‘
“Yuji…”
“And right on time.” Shoko’s voice permeates the room- right alongside the sharp fwip! of the window shutters closing. She turns away from the glass and pushes off from her station. “C’mon Yuji, now the plan is a-go! Go! Go!”
“Aye-aye!” With a chubby hand raised in salute—Yuji wastes no time giving his father a final hug. “Bye bye, papa.”
“Wha-” Nanami looks at the harried duo in confusion. “What are you two-”
“And don’t mess this up, Kento.” Shoko gives him a stern wave.
Before she clasps Yuji’s hand and helps the boy match her longer stride- the two of them speed-walk in the direction of the door.
“Yeah- don’t mess this up, papa!”
“Uh, where are you taking my son?” Nanami stalks after them. Not letting the front door close behind them, he watches the two figures - bouquets and all - race down the hallway. How strange that they didn’t take the usual route - instead opting for the one that would let them leave through the back entrance. “Hello? Shoko-”
“Don’t mess this up!”
He has half the mind to chase after them - it’s not that he doesn’t trust Shoko with his son, but really, what on Earth could they be getting up to?! Especially so late past Yuji’s bedtime. At the very least, maybe he could run up to them and let Shoko know of his son’s Spiderman ritual before eating and the tendency he has to bite fingers when-
“Nanami-san?”
Your voice.
Was he dreaming?
And yet—Nanami snaps his head towards the source of the noise so fast that it almost causes whiplash. He breathes your name out in a whisper.
So this is what Shoko meant about-
“Am I hallucinating or is that Shoko-san and Yuji running down the fire escape?” You point at something beyond his line of vision, though Nanami doesn’t need to look to know that it is, in fact, Shoko and Yuji running down the fire escape.
“I think I’m hallucinating, to be quite honest.” He mutters. Because surely there was no conceivable world in which he would see you like this - standing outside his door on Valentine’s Day, looking all gorgeous as you always did - and dare to bring out the bouquet that he had bought for you. Also was that…was that a bit of make-up you’d dabbed on? More so than usual?
His eyes linger on the glitter beside your eyes.
The thought that it might’ve been because it’s today - that it might’ve been because you’d been as nervous about seeing him today as he was about seeing you - makes him jolt. He’d been smoothing his hair down the entire subway ride home thinking of you.
Thirty-something years and he’s acting like a teenager in puppy love.
Certainly no conceivable world…
And yet…he does. He reaches behind him to bring out that prideful bouquet: 520 flower-heads that blushed themselves silly over not being even half as beautiful as you.
“For you.” He croaks out. Awkwardly pushing up his glasses.
“Oh.” Your jaw drops, and the bouquet weighs heavy in your hands. In nothing but a whisper- “It’s beautiful, Nanami-san.”
Red, red roses.
.
.
.
Nanami explained the situation before he invited you in…somewhat.
Certainly nothing about how badly he’d been teased because of this little scheme or the ah- confession of feelings. Heavens, no! Nanami himself wasn’t entirely sure whether he’d go along with their plan…
As far as you knew, Shoko and Yuji thought it’d be a funny little prank to ‘invite Cupid’ into his apartment this Valentine’s Day. Leaving the two of you alone in an apartment draped in candles and roses like the most deviant of mistresses.
And Nanami knew you knew. You knew that Nanami knew.
The implications were there for all to see.
It was there in the way his face burned red, and Nanami couldn’t meet your eyes- “I’m aware of how it looks. And it seems that my son still holds the idea that erm…either way, ahem, I completely understand if you would much rather go home. Please do know that this will not affect your job in any way whatsoever- in fact, I will cover your fee double tonight-”
“Nanami-san.” You’d interrupted him. Cocking your head with a slight smile, “May I come in?”
From there he’d been the perfect gentleman - not that he wasn’t usually. Even in the months since you’d worked for him, you’d come to find that Nanami was the type of man that opened doors for you, that pushed your chair for you, that covered your taxi fare home, that escorted you as far as he could by foot either way.
But now…oh, right now he was putting any Prince Charming to shame.
He had his hand hoverin’ right above your waist- leading you inside to the romantic dinner table. Here, he’d pushed your chair for you—and before you could even thank him, Nanami had his hands helping you out of your coat.
He insisted on plating for you.
You couldn’t help but gawk at the way his biceps pushed against his work button-up, flexing slightly as Nanami stood beside the table and neatly cut your bread - one he’d baked just this morning, according to him. Shoko had clearly rummaged through his kitchen well…
Conversation was somewhat breathless at first- the both of you waiting for the other to go first. The both of you anticipating every single word.
Wondering what every single word meant.
But after the first two courses - Shoko certainly hadn’t burned these - the both of you were talking freely. Moving on from the more polite topics, like your day, his day, that were really a front for something more - speaking with Nanami was always so easy, he was the best listener you’ve had in a while—to dessert: strawberry shortcake cupcakes and a confession that slips from your lips.
“Y’know- this is the first Valentine’s Day I’m spending like this.” You giggle, wiping off the cream that sticks to your lips. Nanami watches with half-lidded eyes as you devour the delicacy he’d baked this morning.
He swirls his half-empty wine glass. Certainly not enough to get the man tipsy - Nanami was quite the heavy drinker when he wanted to be - but enough to make him ask. “Oh? Tell me more, my dear.”
The candlelight catches on the rim of his glasses, encasing his eyes in an intense glow. You think he looks even more handsome like this- “Sorry. It’s probably going to sound stupid to someone more experienced…”
“There is nothing you’d say that would be stupid.” He pushes his glasses further up his sharp nose. Fingers crossing before him, he leans in. “Continue, my dear.”
“It’s just- I haven’t had many serious relationships, is what.” You admit. And he looks at you so intently- “With life and university, it’s hard to find the time—if I was looking anyways, that is.” You sputter, before he can ask anything about whether the nanny job was cutting into your time. “The selection in my department isn’t great at all.”
“So…” Nanami runs the tip of his finger ‘round that glass cup. The thin rim. The gaping mouth. “-no lil’ boyfriend, then?”
“No boyfriend.” You echo. And perhaps being drunk on the proximity is what makes you blurt out- “But if I did have one, I think I’d like someone older—”
He quirks a brow in interest, “Older?”
You nod. Crossing your arms in slight embarrassment, “Boys my age will ask you out and then go halfsies just because you don’t want to go home with them.”
“Mhmm.” Nanami’s lip curls in distaste.
“I just want someone to like me for me- y’know? Just to sit across from me like this and really talk to me for once.”
“Has no boy ever wined and dined you like this?” He asks.
“No.” You admit, somewhat sheepishly.
“Has no boy ever bought you flowers?”
“No.” You cast a look at the 520 roses - now housed in a large vase that Nanami had pulled out from one of his cabinets.
“No…” You breathe.
He inches forwards, forwards, forwards—and wipes at a remnant of sweet, sweet cream on your lips. That roughened edge of Nanami’s thumb grazes the edge of your mouth. “Has no boy ever been sweet to you like this?” He catches the look in your eyes. And his own lower. “Has no boy ever treated you like a man would, my dear?”
The older man doesn’t hesitate in reaching his thumb back up to his mouth- and lickin’ off the cream. “Has no boy ever eaten you out like this?”
“No-”
Your lips upon his are even sweeter than the cupcakes he’s baked- and he’s lavishin’ his tongue over your mouth gently. Opening you up so wide—
And even that isn’t enough.
Nanami’s thumb finds permanent purchase at the end of your chin, letting his own sinful tongue slip inside. In and out. In and out. In and out.
Almost as if he was fucking you with it-
You’re not sure how long Nanami’s kissing you like this.
Maybe minutes. Maybe hours.
You’ve lost track of time- and the only thing you know is that your head feels dizzy. Your knees were growing weak in your seat. A slick line of spittle glides down the side of your mouth- and Nanami reaches a thumb up to smeeear it.
“My dear…” He murmurs, his deep baritone taking on a husky tone. Hot breath fans across your face, heating you up from the inside out.
You’re raising your face to meet his molten gaze- and it almost shocked you just how handsome Nanami Kento is. Noble features chiselled in the soft candlelight. His mouth slightly kiss-swollen. Blond hair unravelling from his usual neat style n’ cascading across his forehead.
He reaches closer to you and siiinks his teeth into your lower lip, “Have you ever been kissed like that- here before?”
You squirm. Shaking your head-
But he tugs on your pretty maw. “Tell me in words, honey.”
Gulping as one of his rugged hands snakes down your middle. A carnal jolt echoes through your body once Nanami presses the edge of his palm between your skirt- your legs. “I…” You think of all the disappointing dates you’ve been on before, of all the disappointing hands in places almost forgettable. “Not like that, Nanami-san.”
“Now now—when we fuck, call me Kento.” He mutters, finally making his way ‘round the table. Before you know it, he’s looming over you- and two of his strong hands rest underneath your legs. “Upsy daisy.”
He’s lifting you uuuuuup, up, up to splay out across the dinner table.
Lifting you like you weighed nothing.
Pushing aside first and foremost those plates and flowers- you’re being rolled with your back against the tabletop, and Nanami’s honed hips pinning you down. A dimly-lit halo of light behind his golden hair. He wastes no time before throwing both legs of yours on top of his shoulders- “M’gonna teach you how a real man eats pussy.”
You nod-
“First lesson. Big girls use their words.”
And your jaw drops—
“K-Kento—”
You’re not sure whether the primal noise escapes you because of his words, his tone, or because of the utterly desperate way that Nanami Kento falls to his knees. Thud!
Loud enough that it should hurt- but you don’t think it even registers in Nanami’s frenzied brain right now.
Not when he was pushing up that damn sinful skirt of yours- extra tight tonight. Nanami wasn’t a fool - he knew what you were doing. Not when he was starin’ deeply at your pussy, all wet through your panties and throbbing so hard he could practically see it.
Count it.
One-two-three.
Not when he was worshipping you as close as a man possibly could—“Not quite the answer I was looking for.” Then the next thing you’re hearing is a sudden thwack! The next thing you’re feeling are the five pointed tips of Nanami’s thick fingers, smacking down on top of your pussy. “But I’ll let it slide since s’your first time being eaten out all properly, mhm?”
“Mhm.” You nod.
“What was that?” Those mean fingertips of his raise again.
“Yes, Kento.” You’re hurrying to answer. And just as a little reward, Nanami smears his digits atop your swollen folds.
“That’s more like it.” The glaze of your sweetened slick lets out the loudest squelch, and you squirm as he’s tuggin’ aside your panties with a single index. “Are you ready, my dear?”
“Yes-”
“Are you excited, my dear?”
“Yes-”
“Good girl.”
Let the feast begin, he’s thinking. And Nanami Kento doesn’t wait. Nanami Kento doesn’t tease n’ toy. Nanami Kento doesn’t even swivel his fingertips around your wet hole more than a few times to check how soaked you are before he’s taking what he wants—he doesn’t have the damn time for anything else.
He’d been starving for far too long.
And the closer n’ closer he gets to your pussy, the more his mouth waters.
Nanami’s left drooling at the mere sight of your wet fuckin’ hole—you swear you could hear his stomach start to growl. Fuck.
He gulps.
He takes a single sniff.
With a sudden lurch - like he couldn’t hold it back any longer - he leans up and shoves his face nose-deep between your legs.
His tongue swiping your hole, jaw hittin’ the end of your slit.
He’s curving that wet, wet muscle against your walls. Just so soft that it feels as if you’re melting around him- “Fuck.” It escapes him- harsh and cracking. A primal groan at the back of his throat - one he doesn’t seem to even realize himself. “Fuck.”
You tremble at the tone.
Because there was something dark in it. Something almost…predatory.
This was nothing like the calm, composed Nanami Kento that you were used to - absolutely nothing. This was…you didn’t even have words for it.
So fiercely needy that it shoots electricity up your spine- Nanami’s tongue was ravenous. He was holding onto both sides of your legs and- and correction…he wasn’t merely holding onto them. Nanami Kento was using all his strength to push them as faaaar apart as they would go before suffocating himself on your sopping wet cunt.
Such strong hands. Furious tongue.
No matter how much you’re bucking your hips- he just keeps fucking his muscle between your wet pussylips like the last thing on his mind was breathing.
Swooping his head even deeper and munching for more. More. More, more, more.
Nanami crushes his mouth against your pussylips - so deep that you start to wonder whether his oral area would start to bruise—
And it’s only because of that broken call of his name that Nanami flinches. He freezes. He puffs out a murky breath. As if only now registering where he was, what he was doing, and just what his name was at the moment-
He’s breaking free from your pussy with an echoing slurp!
“K-Kento…” You’re looking on in pure worry at the dazed man - his eyes were still glazed, and there was something almost…feral about his demeanour still. Though he seemed to be much calmer than before, “Kento, are you okay to contin-”
“I am.” His voice comes out strong. Firm. Like he’s never been more sure of anything in his entire life.
Nanami lets out a few stilted breaths- running a hand through his now-unruly hair. The glisten of a silver streak in it. “I am. I just…it’s been a long time…forever, actually, since I’ve tasted anything so delicious.” Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “I hope you can forgive this old man for getting a little carried away, my dear.”
Was he really that ruined from but a single taste of your cunt?
He stares down so long and deeeep at your quivering pussy. That cute hole peeking out from your panties—“She’s just so…sweet.”
And though he was speaking to you, Nanami looks down lovingly between your legs.
Now that he didn’t have his lips all plastered to your folds- he was rubbin’ his right thumb vertically down your slit.
Pressing down on the cute button of your clit-
“Awww did I scare you, honey? I sure hope I didn’t.” Honey, because you were just too sweet sizzlin’ on his tastebuds. Guiding one of your hands to grip his scalp, “Forgive me. When it gets like that, don’t be afraid to pull me- to use me, alright?”
“Kento, you don’t have to-”
“Consider it my second lesson.”
You squirm, “B-but don’t they say to…respect your elders, Kento?”
And you’re just too cute—he can’t help but flatten his palm down and spank your pussylips once more. It makes so many beads of slippery slick spray out from your cunt n’ glue against that chin of his. “You certainly can.” He hums, thoughtful. “But just remember- I won’t be respecting this pussy, honey.”
“I see.” You gape.
And while speaking to you - while speaking to you - Nanami lavishes out lil’ kitten licks between your folds. Lick. Lick. “I bet this pretty pussy’s never been eaten out like that before, huh?” He continues. Merely peeking up at you through blond lashes to confirm- and you can only nod—
Yet another spank sputtering down on your wet crevice.
“Words.” Nanami reminds.
Hiccuping, “Yes, please. All those boys usually just like- graze my clit and that’s all.”
He nods. He continues, voice nothing but deep murmurs that sets your entire body aflame - and it’s as though the more syllables he’s uttering, the harder n’ harder he rubs on your clit. “Awww poor girl. I just can’t help but think of how long this pussy has been wasted on- haaah, boys who didn’t know how to handle her.”
“Too- too long.”
Lovingly—almost drunkenly, he’s pressing a direct peck against your hole. The tip of his tongue just lightly slipping out and teasing your entrance- Nanami’s free hand grips onto your thigh as if holding himself back. “Mmmm, that’s what I thought.” He murmurs. “And how long has she waited to be eaten out by a man who isn’t afraid to get a little…sloppy?”
“Too long-”
At this, he chuckles. “And as for my last question-” Not even smooching anymore- he’s just smeeeeaering his puffy lips along your slit. More rapid. More hungry. “Actually- take this as my third lesson.”
You’re scrambling up onto your elbows. “Yes?”
“Can you settle down like a good girl?”
Whatever that means…you aren’t given the time to figure out. Because before you know it, Nanami purses his lips and plants a wad of spittle that hits your cunt with a wet splat!
Only making you even wetter for him to gape his jaw open- “Fuck.” For him to swirl his ridged tip around and around your snug entrance until it left your mind all dizzy, it makes your cunt streeeeetch incredibly once he digs the tip of his tongue inside. Thoroughly.
It’s almost as if he was splitting you apart on the thickness of his tongue.
Expanding and contracting. Expanding and contracting.
The stretch is so incredible that it leaves your mind searing
“Settle down. Settle doooown-” He’s humming in a low tone. Whenever Nanami feels you squirmin’ or clenching just a tad too hard, he’s making note of that particular spot and bashing it all in again. Thick muscle reaching in and out for your deepest depths until your tight hole can’t take it anymore- until you’re screaming for mercy.
“Oh fuh-fuuuuck—” You’re arching straight off the table, the fabric clinging onto your skin briefly. Only for a few split-seconds before one of Nanami’s hands fastens onto your hips, pushing you right back down where you came from.
“What did I say?” He wasn’t even using much of his strength- you were just so easy for him to move ‘round. Especially when he has his mouth attached to you in a way that was so ravenous—
Ruined.
“Settle. Fucking. Down, girl.”
Pinning you to the flat surface and letting his gaped maw run wiiiiiiild. It’s making you realize that he wasn’t going feral in the beginning- he was merely holding back.
Both in strength and in pure carnal hunger.
No matter how badly you were craving to grind down restlessly on his face for hours- Nanami keeps you on a tight leash. He keeps you restrained on the table n’ getting only what’s given. Pushing down. Maneuvering his greedy mouth. No matter how much you wanted to plant your feet down and take control - Nanami Kento really does know what’s best.
“Failing the third lesson already, huh?”
Tears stream down your cheeks without you even realizing. “S-sorry, I didn’t-”
“Shhhhh shh shh. No need for an apology, honey.” He opens his swollen lips up wider n’ latches them around your clit for a few seconds. “My poor girl’s just overstimulated because she’s getting her pussy eaten out, huh? This pretty pussy’s just excited?”
“Yes-”
“That’s why your Kento’s here.” Nanami hums, his cold glasses frames hit the front of your cunt and you flinch. Making the man push them up his nosebridge with a chuckle—“And m’gonna take care of this pussy, baby.”
The way that Nanami looks dead-set into your widened peripherals as he says this makes your heart race.
Spitting a few more times down your dribbling slit. He was teeeeasing you before reaching his right hand down n’ smearing your pussylips open with two fingers- the rugged tips of his index n’ middle streeetching your damp hole apart. Just so goddamn thick. “Fourth lesson: sometimes…fingers feel even better.”
“O-ohhh—” Your voice breaks out in carnal trills. Trying to bend your spine but then holding yourself back-
He was thrashing inside a few more sloppy strokes - swiping, slurping, scrapin’ every inch of your velvety walls. Anywhere you could think of, his thickened digits were pumping in.
At one point, he flicks his glistening tongue outside for you to take in his sheer size. “Size does matter when it comes to pleasing this needy pussy, alright? Don’t let any fuckin’ boy convince you otherwise.”
You mewl, “I-I wouldn’t need another boy if I just had you, Kento…”
And there’s something in his tone that sounds ecstatic- “Mmm, good girl.” Showing you a demonstration of his previous statement by mazin’ away straight towards your g-spot. And you could feel yourself shaking- all those times you had to worry about whether a guy could manage to make you cum?
Nanami was eatin’ you out like his one and only purpose in life was to make you cum.
“Always teasing me.” He scoffs out in a scalding breath. Raggedly running his mouth- his tongue. “Always riling me up with those pretty looks and that- damn-” Pushing and pushing onto your g-spot so hard that it makes you sob out of pleasure. “-mouth.”
Your jaw drops. “I l-love it—fuck.”
Practically on instinct, you’re gliding a hand down your tummy- where you could feel butterflies. They only seemed to grow even harder n’ rougher with his textured tongue…“I think I can feel you right- ngh, here.”
“S’that so? You love it, huh? I can feel this pussy growin’ so wet—She’s so fucking tight, bet she’s never been fingered properly before.” As if anticipating your next moves, he’s digging his fingers deeper against your flesh. Leaving little crescent marks.
Whatever rational part of you is left begins to wonder just why he might have to pin you down even harder.
“And for my fifth lesson, honey.”
You’re waiting with baited breath as he presses a few more heated-open-mouthed kisses. Nanami’s luscious tongue reaching spots inside you that you weren’t even sure you had - ones undiscovered—
And it’s the only warning you get before the puckered, pretty flaps of his mouth opens up your pussylips. Just past where your folds were all swollen n’ tight- it was quite a squeeze even when it was just his tongue. Just his fingers.
So to have both Nanami’s fingers and his tongue inside?
It was sheer madness.
It was driving you stupid with his touch in but a single stroke- the jostling feeling of his wet muscle and his digits pressing against your walls and each other. Your walls. Each other. Your walls. Each other. Your channel was so snug that even the slightest movements made it feel as though you were bulging from the inside.
Pressing in. Fucking in.
In and in, and in—
“A real man is- haaah, always hungry.” Alternating between slipping his tastebuds into your hole, and then fishing himself back out—not to breathe. No, not even close. He was merely roverin’ his mouth over to spank down on your clit. “A real man would never get tired of his lover, my dear.”
“Kento—ngh.” You’re echoing out.
Your moans bang against the four corners of the room and straight into his ears- the prettiest song he’s ever heard. “See how good you feel? S’only my duty to you, my dear.”
“But Kento-”
Mouth makin’ out with your cunt as if he’d gone mad, too.
“Kento, don’t you need to breathe-”
“Fifth lesson. Who cares about breathing?”
He gasps out in interruption. Tongue swiping at a constant rhythm - it was difficult to get a single syllable out when all Nanami wanted to do was stick himself to your cunt and lick and lick and lick—
Both of you are realizing at the same time that he’d miscounted.
“For my fifth…” And he sounded maddened, too. Octaves higher. Tone breathy. There was a feral sort of hunger in his eyes that shook you to your core- “Sixth…?” As if he was just so pussydrunk that it was causing his brain to melt, acting on pure carnal instinct. “For my sixth lesson, honey. This old man’s mind is a little foggy, you see…”
You don’t get the chance to answer.
Because with that, Nanami only accelerates. First those fingertips of his were shoved all the way in and making your walls twitch with every hard prod—thud-thud-thudding way. Then he was smoochin’ over that same bruised spot with his slithering tongue, just swipin’ up where you were most sensitive.
Before draaaaagging all the way out and about to suck on your clit. Throbbing so hard that he managed to time his lil’ bites to each pulse.
It was a dual sensation that left you driven mad. Absolutely mad.
Rubbin’ his fingers absolutely raw on those knotted bundles of nerves-
You buck.
You get hit with a sudden spank.
“Mmmm—do you think you deserved that, my dear?” He asks. Too cute- the more he eats you out, the more he’s twitching in his pants.
You sob, but you’re nodding. “Y-yes…”
Another spank.
“What was that?”
“Yes, Kento.”
“Good girl.” And honestly you could feeeel that sultry stretch of his grin—gently dabbing his tongue over your clit. Nanami Kento might’ve been a stern man, but he certainly wasn’t merciless. “But forget one more time and I’ll make you call me ‘sir’.”
You couldn’t deny the way that made your cunt twitch…
“Seventh and final lesson.” Nanami pronounces, his mouth slicked with so many layers of your sap that it gleamed—he wore those dangles of goopy syrup like a medallion. “When I make you cum- hah, you better reward me by cumming aaaaaall inside my mouth, honey. Or my cock.”
Your throat was utterly parched by now. And the only thing you could do was rasp out- “U-understood, Kento…”
Soon enough, he was babbling out hot breaths of something you could barely even understand- though each promise only sounded more ravenous than the last.
Mouth glued to your cunt. Nails digging into your skin. Rougher than you ever thought was possible before, he’s sucklin’ at your clit and pounding his fingers into you so hard that it looked like nothing but a blur—
Nanami counts one, two, three rapid clenches of your pussy walls-
Before you’re throwing your head back and absolutely shattering into your high because of him.
Your toes curling. Your throat ragged raw.
His textured tastebuds are swipin’ across every bead of slick you were dripping out. Dripping. Every bead of slick. All over your puffy pussylips. All between them till he meets your hole- even all the way up your inner thighs.
He wasn’t letting a single bit go to waste.
Not even as that translucent sap dribbles down the sides of his mouth and ends up splashin’ right up to his handsome cheekbones-
The pleasure washes over you twofold - both with your orgasm and the way that Nanami was eloooongating your orgasm. Both his fingers and his mouth were working overtime to press into each peak of your high. “O-oh—” Thighs trembling on top of his shoulders- you don’t know when, but they end up locked so tight around his head. “It feels s-so good.”
Each tiny curve of his fingers made your body twitch in the aftershocks. “Extra lesson- fuck back into me.”
“Wh-what?”
It takes you a significant amount of effort to even open your eyes - let alone start to swerve your body uuup n’ down. And yet you’re doing it anyway—moaning as you ride all of Nanami’s handsome features in looooong, sloppy drags. “Fuh-fuck, like this?”
And he was just loving it.
“Mhmmm.” He gurgles out. Cracking one eye open, “Exactly. I know this is the best fuckin’ orgasm you’ve ever experienced, my dear.”
He wasn’t even being cocky - and you usually would’ve called him out on it - this was just plain true. “I-it is-”
“I know this pretty pussy wants it again, my dear.”
You can only nod.
“I know I surely want to eat her again, my dear.”
And nod and and nod as he’s fucking you through even the tiniest peaks and spasms—the surplus of bliss making your veins bubble. Burst. Bulldoze your senses as you’re practically vibrating with the sheer amount of pleasure that runs through them.
There seems to be a hazy aura covering your vision as you finally ride through your entire high.
Struggling up onto your elbows once more-
“Stay down—”
“Yes…?” Your eyes widen at Nanami’s strict order. He leaves a final slurping kiss at your clit before he stands onto his feet. Slightly swaying—
There was a glaze over his eyes. There was your slick coating all the way from his lower face, and puddling dooown to form a dark patch on his button-up. There were the short, panted breaths he was emanating - like a predator honed in on his prey - the longer he looked at you splayed out on the messy table.
Nanami Kento almost looked drunk - and not on the dinner, not even on the sparse wine.
He was completely n’ utterly ruined on nothing other than your pussy.
He lunges towards you-
“Fuck, Kento—” You’re squealing at the rugged hands that tear through your clothes as easily as if they were butter. Shirt and bra easily landing on the carpeted floor- and your skirt was to follow before you even realized.
You’re just about to help Nanami shuffle you out of your panties - hips raising to facilitate it - before he takes another look at you. One long, hard look. And his hands leave your body as though that was enough-
He wanted your panties on.
Nothing but a sopping wet mess twisted ‘round your hips. Evidence of his depravity.
“I want these off then.” You’re reaching up to tug on one of Nanami’s sleeves. He was still partly in his office clothes: button-up, formal pants, tie. And those sleeves of his had been pushed up to his elbows during your dinner, leaving you struggling not to gawk at the older man’s forearms. Strong. Slightly veined. Slightly tanned.
He was just so attractive that it made you squirm.
Nanami looks down at himself and lets out a hoarse—“Oh…right.” Like he’d been so caught up in you that he hadn’t even realized he was still clothed.
Pop!
Pop!
Pop!
Pop!
Those neat white buttons end up flinging to the ground- useless against his sheer desperation. Nanami wastes no time before tearing through his layers, ripping them off. Fabric pools onto the carpet below. His belt buckle clangs as it hits the ground.
Gentlemen couldn’t deny such a thing when their lover’s asking so nicely, could they? At least Nanami couldn’t-
And fuck…
Now, you always assumed that Nanami Kento was the kind of guy to be well-built. It was naturally in the way he moved, the way he stood, in the broadness of his shoulders.
But you’d never in your wildest dreams could have imagined that he’d be this chiselled. This toned.
You have to stop yourself from ogling him—you have to. But you can’t help it.
Not when Nanami’s body was ridged and curved in muscle- almost Herculean in nature. He had pecs that looked lush enough for you to bite - and you could already feel your mouth start to water - with a faint coating of golden and silver hair scattered across his skin. Wide shoulders. Trim waist.
His biceps flexin’ as he moves onto the buttons of his pants.
Lined through the middle with similar golden hair that drove down, down, down…
But you think your favorite part of him wasn’t the muscles or the hardness- no. Though they were certainly a nice addition, what made your pussy throb the most was just how…thick Nanami Kento was.
It was evident that Nanami was the type of person who liked hitting the gym often- but then again, it was evident that Nanami was the type of person who didn’t have the time to be hitting the gym often.
As often as he used to, at least.
And you? You were loving it.
Because all those muscles of his were naturally-formed. But with all the years of responsibilities as a father which meant his body was comforted by a layer of slight chub, big. Strong. Suddenly, you understood why ‘dad-bods’ were all the craze on social media—because you - for one - couldn’t help but linger your eyes at the sight of the softness to his shape. The slight roundness to his belly, abs barely peaking through.
“My dear…”
“Kento.”
He presses a thumb against the hemline of his trousers-
And then he’s letting you see him—all of him.
From his V-shaped waist to his meaty thighs.
So thick. So strong.
You just wanted to be crushed between them.
And right down to the furious cock that stood upright and erect between them. Such a bulbous red tip, streaming with never-ending ribbons of pre. Such a thickened shaft that made you swallow—he had so many veins zipping down either side of him. You think he was about nine or so inches- perhaps on the lower end.
Before you’d realized it, you’d been reaching your hand between his legs- only for Nanami to stop you in your tracks.
“K-Kento…”
His thick fingers intertwine with yours and press your hand down on the tabletop. “Honey, you don’t have to reciprocate.” The older man stares deeply into your eyes- “You don’t owe me anything. I ate your pretty pussy out because I’ve been starving for her.”
“But I still want to.” You insist.
“Mmmm, how about after then?” He reaches his free hand up n’ thumbs across your bottom lip. “As much as I want to paint these beautiful lips with my cum, there’s another pair who’ve been waiting patiently for their turn…”
You shiver, “Erm- Kento, you should know that…this is my first time.”
He pauses. “Excuse me, my dear?”
“I’ve never done it before.” Looking up at him through your tear-draped lashes. “You’ll be my first.”
The thought takes a second to register in the older man’s sex-hazed mind. That animalistic part of him being overpowered by the rational.
Your first time.
Your first time.
Your first time.
He was about to take the virginity of that cute lil’ nanny he’s had his eye on for so long. “Honey, are you su-”
“Yes.”
Nanami almost moans at the sheer eagerness in your voice - your eyes were shining, and your legs locked tighter around him. “Well…” The man starts, dipping two thumbs down to your glistening pussy and spreading your folds wide open. He takes a good look at your entrance in comparison to the thickness of his cock, “Brace yourself then, my dear. S’gonna be a tight fuckin’ fit.”
In a split-second, he’s jerking his hips closer and smoochin’ your naked cunt with his cock. His rounded tip spreading your pussylips. His shaft sliding between your slit and massaging you with his veins.
Nanami was so goddamn hard that it looked painful.
And what better way to alleviate the pain than by pushing his pretty lil nanny’s legs apart and shoving his cock between them? Aching and needy for you.
Nanami was big enough to fuck you stupid with just his tip.
And he knows it, too. Having such a hard time completely fittin’ in his crowned girth, he just barely fucks the top of his shaft inside before groaning. Taking a peek at the way you were squirming below him, sobbing below him. Absolutely ruined- “Shit, honey.” Cupping his hilt with his left hand- Shit, honey, can you recite the lessons for me?”
You’re wobbling up onto your elbows, “Recite them?”
He can only nod. “Just—oh.” Cut off with the slightest sliiiiide between your sweet, swollen pussylips- he’s only managing to nudge the rounded edge of his length. “Just recite them. You have them memorized f’me like a good girl, yeah?”
“Yes-” Nodding frantically. “Yes, Kento-”
And that cute obedience of yours is enough to make him smile- tap-tap-tappin’ away the curve of his tip down there. For absolutely no other reason than wanting to. “Good.” He reels his hips back. “Then say it f’me, my dear.” And then forwards- “Say it while I fuck you.”
And the only thing you can fucking do is to babble out those words- the very same ones that’d been drilled into you. “The first lesson is that—fuck.” All the while Nanami’s probin’ tip enters your hole in a sudden thrust. “-th-that big girls use their words.”
Nanami grunts, voice shot. “Goooood good good- keep breathing now.” Hand clawing down your front—feeling for himself as he pumps inside. Tiiiight fucking fit, like he said. He almost wonders whether it would go in- “And then?”
“The second…”
But it’s almost impossible to remember- to even think with those rapidfire haaaard hammers of his cock.
That curved tip of his shaft kept pushing iiiin with the most lecherous squelches, drawing more n’ more sweetened slick out of you with every single thrust. That stretch was just incredible- it was making you see white. Just the first few inches of his pretty pink cock squeezing inside and pushing in and in and in—
Thwack!
Those rugged fingertips of his come spanking back down on your cunt - this time, however, they fit between your pussylips and latch onto your clit. And they stay there. He’s tuggin’ on that poor nub a few times just to bring you back to your senses- “Awww, you didn’t think you’d go unpunished for that—-did you, my dear?”
“I-I—no.” Because tears stream down your cheeks, and Nanami still isn’t letting go. He’s flopping out his tongue and lapping at that salty flavor-
“Then continue.” Humming at the taste of you. Fitting and fitting and—trying to stretch your elastic hole out to take him. It’s the first time you’ve ever felt something like this. “You’re doing so good. Keep going for Kento.”
Thwack!
“Keep talking, honey.”
“Second lesson-” Unable to do anything but arch your back, you’re being met with Nanami’s soft chest. Those pecs. The thundering of his heartbeat. It’s enough to make your mouth already water—“t-to…use you.”
He leans in, “What was that, my dear? Old man, you know…”
“To use you-”
“To not be afraid to use me.” He corrects.
And it’s the last thing you hear before both Nanami’s hands snake down to grab your ankles- restraining them. Tightening them.
He’s bending you easily in half.
Legs on top of his shoulders. Thighs against thighs.
Pushing you all the way back into a mating press.
A fucking mating press.
Of course the hot DILF that you’re nannying for puts you in a mating press. Of fucking course!
And it’s only causing you to become wetter than you’ve ever been in your entire life- your head falls back against the table surface. Thud! An action that makes the older man on top of you reach behind n’ cushion the back of your scalp. “Easy there, my dear. Eeeeeasy.” His left palm lightly massages your sweaty head.
“K-Kento-” Through your tears.
“Easy there- third lesson, remember?”
“To s-settle down…”
“That’s my girl.” Nanami hums, head threatening to tip backwards at the sensations of your quivering cunt. It’s impossible to keep his mind when you were gushing out so much slick that it coats his shaft and leaves his ballsack all drenched.
And if he was this gone, then where did that leave you?
Well, you were just babbling away the pretty syllables of his lessons. “The f-fourth lesson is that fingers feel better.” Hips bucking upwards. “The fifth is that real men are hungry—” Eyes scrunching with tears. That large circumference of his were pushing into tender spots n’ crevices that you didn’t even know you had - it felt as though your poor pussy was being split by him. Push after push.
After probe after probe.
Just animalistically trying to fit inside—
“The sixth- the sixth-”
“Breathe, honey.” Those smoky words of his scorch your face, as if Nanami himself was burning from the inside out. And there truly was a feverish tint to his words—to his actions, fuckin’ away sloppily between your pussylips. Slurp after slurp. “Breeeeeeathe- c’mon do it with me.”
Conducting you through these relaxation exercises for a few strokes.
Listening to his own advice - that fourth lesson - his right hand lifts off of your thighs to roll over your throbbing clit. Just so neglected by now, it makes you see white to have him massaging that sweet spot all slow and sensual.
“The sixth lesson is…who cares about breathing?”
“Mhmmm.”
A guttural tone that sent vibrations straight from your drippin’ core and up to your brain. Only growing more muddled by the inch- “And oh! The extra.” As all good students do, you’re deciding to show a demonstration. How sinful that this sort of demonstration is you balancing your hips on the table n’ choosing to bounce right up to meet Nanami’s rutting hits. His pounces. “To- ngh, fuck back into you.”
“Oh, good girl- this old man almost forgot that one.” Sleazily, he’s pushing his glasses up his nosebridge.
Staring at the lewd sight below of you griiiiinding your hips up into his. It was just so messy because your lips were jittery with pleasure.
His happy trail rubs carnally on top of your clit- and it sends you into a frenzy—
“F-fuck that was-”
“Shhhh shh shh, easy.”
You waddle your ankles from their perch atop his shoulders. “Yes, I know-” Hissing out—“I’m breathing, Kento. I’m listening to what you’re saying, promise…”
“Good girl. Now inhale.” Of course, you can’t help but take a looooong gasp of the heady air thick in the dining room - the candles were scented like roses. “And-”
“And…?”
And Nanami doesn’t finish his sentence. He doesn’t bother telling you to exhale before his fat, throbbing cock is fucking every volume of air from your lungs. In this mating press, he could hit each angle even deeper than before - and that meant you’re feeling his thick circumference bruise all the way against your womb.
Your cervix.
Bottomed all the way out and Nanami was pummeling his length away as if there was even more, more, more of him left. A hint of something metallic hits his nostrils—and he can’t hold back the victorious chuckle that leaves him. He’s done it. “Continue.”
“I—what-” Struggling to catch your breath. “Oh my fucking-”
“Continue.”
“Who cares about breathing-”
A sixth lesson that he was fully demonstrating.
He really was mean.
He really was merciless.
Because he was fucking you into the dinner table like a damn animal—and the thing is Nanami wasn’t even going at a particularly fast pace in order to leave you speechless. He wasn’t merely half-thrusting away and hoping that you liked it. He wasn’t just tracin’ his cockhead down the sweet spots at the back of your pussy.
Nanami Kento was holding you down tight in his mating press. He has one hand gripping onto the back of your scalp - such a gentle gesture turned so sinful - and another crushin’ the fatness of his palm to your pussy.
Purposefully, the older man pushes the edge of his palm down on your clit. Harder. Harder. Harder.
And he was drilling into you harder by the second, too. Harder didn’t mean faster.
Just draaaagging every inch of his vein-covered shaft down your slick channel - he’s making sure that you can feel every single curve n’ ridge down his cock. He’s making sure that he massages your insides so thoroughly that it feels as though you’re being molded to his cock. Nothing more. Nothing less.
You swear you’re seeing the pearly gates spread wide open before your very eyes. “O-oh my god-” Reaching your hands up, Nanami lowers his strong body further into yours. Pushing you down against the dinner table, the pressure from all sides is too much that you have to claaaw down his perfect back. “Kento, what—fuck. I didn’t know that it could feel like this-”
And deep inside, you can feel his thickened tip flinching. Directly at your g-spot. “Mhm?”
“Yeah-” Voice shattering in your throat as his circumference swells just a few millimeters thicker inside of you. He was growing even bigger, harder, just by the sensations of your slurping cunt. “I-it just feels so good- I’ve never been fucked like this.”
“Honey…” Nanami’s mean yet pointed tone makes you stare up at him. “You’ve never been fucked before me.‘
“Oh.”
“Your virginity is mine.”
“Oh.”
Just that gone on his cock that you’d almost forgotten - even the realization itself seems to take up too much storage inside your already-muddled brain. Now filled with only the thought of him n’ his achingly hot cock—pouring out bucketloads of precum until it sloshed around inside.
Inside and inside.
Stirring ‘round and ‘round with his probin’ cockhead. He pushes deep into spots that you hadn’t even known existed, let alone could be smooched away by his pulsating shaft. He constantly whacks your g-spot until it feels numb.
Enough to render you speechless-
“—graduated.”
And that makes your eyes blink open. “Wh-what?”
“Oh, honey…” Nanami plants a loving peck on your lips- until that peck turns into a rugged bite. “What world are you on, hm? S’my cock that good? Awww, my poor girl—here.” Nanami’s perspired forehead sticks against yours. This time, he’s staring deeply into your eyes as he pronounces the words, “You’ve graduated.”
You cock your head in confusion, “From university?”
He chuckles, fine lines popping out from the edges of his eyes. You’re noticing that his glasses have slightly fogged up by now- “No, silly girl. From my lessons.”
“Oh…” Pouting, “But I liked your lessons, Kento.”
“Mmmm, you’ll like this one even more.” Dipping down- Nanami presses his stern lips right to the shell of your left ear. Whispering as if a secret shared by no one but the two of you in this world, “Remember how Yuji mentioned he wanted a little brother…”
A jolt goes through your body- as does the realization.
“If you’d like then-”
“Yes.” You know it might be rash. But looking at him like this - looking at Nanami Kento so deep in the pangs and plunges of his carnal pleasure - how could you deny what you want? “Yes—”
The blond man’s breaths start to grow heavier, eyes slightly widened. For the first time in the longest time, he actually looks like his usually-sensible self. Those molten eyes of his search yours for an answer- “Honey, really think this throu-”
“I did.” You’re insisting. And if that wasn’t enough, he could feel your wobbly ankles surge with the strength to lock ‘round his neck. “Inside, Kento.”
Nanami’s mouth moves noiselessly with an answer, but his cock does all the swelling. So painfully hard that you were sure it was tougher than rocks-
And there’s only one thing left for you to do. “Inside…sir.”
If he was any less of a gentleman - of a man, really - then Nanami would’ve cum inside you then and there. At least in his mind—which was focused solely on digging his heels into the carpet, solely on gritting his teeth and holding his damn cock back from pouring out those wads of cum like he knew he wanted to.
Was on the verge of doing.
He was instead collapsing the entirety of his weight upon your body- feeling your limbs strain, hearing your joints pop. But not even that noise crackling in his eardrums is enough to get the man to slow down.
Now he was just fucking you sloppy—grunts filtering between his grit canines by the minute. By the thrust. “The first to fuck you.” And what a rare occasion: to hear the ever-eloquent Nanami Kento stutter. “I’ll be the first to breed you too, my dear.”
“Oh—fuck, yes.” Your entire body shivers in excitement. You could feel the pit of pleasure starting to grow in your stomach.
“I’ll be the first to give this pretty cunt a taste of cum.” And you could hardly believe that such a sinful sentence was leaving the confines of his mouth—“She’s probably so thirsty by now, no? I’ll be the first to quench that thirst, my dear, just you wait-” Pinching your clit between the fingers on his right hand once more. “-mama.”
Really, if you were calling him ‘sir’ then it was only fair for him to call you by that pretty nickname. Something primal awakens inside of you-
“I’ll be the first one to stuff this pretty pussy-” Nanami gurgles out, eyes locking in on your stomach. That was where his rounded tip occasionally made an appearance by bulging through your flesh n’ skin as he fucked inside you. “-with so much of my cum that you’ll be bloated.”
You gasp hysterically, “Yes-” So turned on that it almost hurt - you wanted him. Now. “Yes, yes, yes—”
“I’ll be the first to make you feel me in here- for weeks. Months.” Thrust after thrust. Pinch after pinch. It was incredible how much he was stimulating you to tears- “I’ll be the first where—when you walk down the street, everyone will know that I fucked you. Everyone will know that- that this pretty pussy is mine, that I’m the one fuckin’ her and stuffing her and—and giving her my cum every night.”
Rolling a sweet, sweet heart on top of your clit.
“They’ll know that I’m the one fuckin’ the cute, sweet lil’ nanny—all of them. The professors. Those parents at pick-up. Your friends. My friends.” He chuckles darkly. And he doesn’t care who’d be scandalized. “Wanna know why, my honey?”
“Wh-why—” You sob out.
And he leans in to whisper in your ear- “Because I’ll be the one making you a momma.”
Until you’re all round and glowing with his seed.
Until you’re so full of him that you can’t take anymore.
Until you’re so stuffed that you wouldn’t be able to hide it- he hopes you’re walking ‘round with his cum between your legs for weeks.
It’s taking only that and a single puuuush against your g-spot for you to topple off the edge of your high. Bliss pumping through your veins in waves, you couldn’t escape from the constant throb and ebb of it. Dimming the edges of your vision. Making the lights seem brighter.
Again and again and again—
He’s probin’ inside that swollen cockhead to push you through the bouts of your pleasure. In the time he’s had you like this, Nanami’s already mapped out where every single one of your sweetest spots where- and first he’ll thwack! his hand upon your clit. Then he’ll move onto your tender bruised spots at the rim, then his cock delves deeper until he’s hitting your g-spot—then again and again he’s knockin’ on your womb.
Filling it with so much of his cum.
“Breathe.” Your orgasm hits you so hard that you have to manually control your breathing- and Nanami’s right beside you. Walking you through every step, every exhale and inhale. “Breathe iiiiiin.”
You’re sucking in a breath. “Fuck-”
And it’s just then that he’s emptying out a particularly powerful wave of his own euphoria. Balls clenching as his ribbony white cum leaks near your cervix- with your breath sucked in, you’re only feeling the sensations even stronger. “And out.”
Panting out with a whine. “Fuuuuck- f-feels so good.”
Too good, almost.
You never knew it could feel like this to have someone pourin’ out all their lecherous sap inside of you- the thick layers clinging onto either side of your walls. There’s so much of it - so much volume that you wondered just how he managed to keep it all stuffed inside - frothing out and forming a circle of white ‘round Nanami’s hilt. Gleaming with every thrust. Puddling out and sticking your thighs together—
Head throwing slightly back, though still peeking at you through his lashes. “Honey…”
Nanami’s gruff tone makes you jump. “Yes?” Still slightly twitching from the aftershocks of your incredible high.
He stares into your eyes with a slight smile. Something unreadable. “You forgot the seventh lesson earlier.”
The seventh…?
Oh.
Oh.
Fuck.
It’s with a sudden cold thrill that you’re registering what he said- and remembering the mistake you’d made during your recitations earlier. “I-it was to cum all over-”
“That’s quite alright, my dear. No need to tell me now.” Nanami smiles the sweetest smile that makes your cunt start to throb - his eyes shuttered closed, his lips pecking yours. His cock shovels a long, hard thrust inside you—“But I will have to rescind your graduation.”
You gape, “What, why-”
“Until you’re completely and fully stuffed by me.” He grumbles out the rest of his statement. His condition.
Hands rovering all over your body, Nanami makes sure that every slight tingle of your high has passed before he’s pulling out of you with a loud sluuuuurp! Immediately scooping you up into a princess carry n’ walking in the direction of his bedroom.
It isn’t long before you find yourself draped over Nanami Kento’s large mattress - on all fours so that he can slip inside you with ease. Pumping away immediately- “Until you’re fuckin’ pregnant, consider that you’re still taking lessons.”
You’re sobbing into your newly-caught pillow. “Oh—oh fuck.”
To which Nanami leans over and snatches your neck into a fucking headlock- his strong biceps pushing against the sides of your throat. “Happy Valentine’s Day, my dear. When this is all done- fuck, m’gonna show you how much I love you.”
“I l-love you—” Feeling his rounded tip immediately pierce across your g-spot and towards your womb. Full. “-too.”
“Mmm, I love you more.” Watching as you shake and quiver. “We’ll get you something sweet after this, honey, don’t you worry.” He hums- before sneaking a look at the both of you through the mirror in his bedroom and chuckling.
Ruined. Completely and utterly ruined.
“If we make it out of Valentine’s Day alive, that is.”
Maybe Shoko could babysit Yuji a little longer?
“Papa’s gonna do his best to try for a second child, alright?”
.
.
.
Morning shed its sunlight like the clothes upon Nanami’s apartment floor.
A stream of white-gold Sun, the richness of the day, enters through his windows and splays out perfectly on the bed. It dapples light across his naked chest and leaves him stirring—
Valentine’s Day.
The dinner.
The table.
You. Being taken on the table.
Afterwards on this very bed, afterwards on the damn bedroom floor after he heard a snap coming from somewhere on the bed frame. He’d shovelled himself n’ his gooey white sap inside you until the Sun had risen—
And it’s enough to make him jerk upright in his bed.
Blankets falling around his waist, sleepy eyes scanning the room for any sign of you.
From here, he couldn’t see what’d been made of your clothes in the dining room- or your panties in his bedroom. But it was obvious that you weren’t here. If from your physical presence, then from the warmth you brought into his drafty Tokyo home.
Just to make sure, he casts several wide-eyed looks around the room - breath-still in case there was a single noise from the kitchen - and still…nothing. Absolutely nothing.
There’s a sinking feeling in his chest that he doesn’t want to make sense of.
Of course, what was he thinking? He’d said…those words to you last night- but just because you’d said them back didn’t mean it was real. It was probably in the heat of the moment, you’d probably snuck out before dawn broke so you didn’t have to face him. You’d probably woken up disgusted.
He didn’t blame you - there were no promises between the two of you. And even if there had been, he knows he can’t find it in himself to get angry at you.
If anything - if you chose to quit after this - he supposes he’ll have to start looking for a nanny again. Something in Nanami’s chest twists, and he reaches up to rub the spot where his heart was.
He wouldn’t mind the long and tedious process if it still led him back to you. He wouldn’t mind the long and tedious process if it meant you were there with him - not as a nanny, just yourself being you.
It was a cold morning.
And Nanami Kento was clenching his sheets, just about to throw his legs over the side of the bed and get out—he needed to put away his clothes anyways before Shoko came with Yuji. What was the time anyway? It was his off-day today, and maybe he could take Yuji out to the park to take his mind off of-
And it’s then that several things happen at once.
Nanami’s eyes catch the face of the clock on his bedside cabinet: 12:48PM.
Nanami’s jaw drops at just how late it is.
Nanami snatches his phone off of the cabinet and makes to race outside while calling Shoko-
And he makes it about two frantic steps, too, before getting stopped by a sudden squeal of laughter. Loud and bubbling. Euphoric.
Of course, it was none other than his son.
Echoing a short burst of laughter throughout the apartment- before abruptly cutting himself off with a pronounced ‘shhhhhh!’ It rings even louder than his laugh, and reaches Nanami’s ears alongside some words. “Sowwy! Yuji promises not to wake papa!”
And Nanami’s brows furrow, wondering whether Shoko had somehow managed to forge a key to his apartment and get in. Before out of nowhere—your voice is the one that answers him.
“S’alright, sunshine.” You’re using that nickname he always did. Sleepiness was still laced into your tone, and he could tell it hadn’t been long since you must’ve waddled away.
Since you must’ve put away the clothes in the dining room, since you must’ve opened the door for Yuji - Nanami would hate to imagine the smug look on Shoko’s face then, but the surplus of texts from her were already doing the job. “Papa needs to be awake for breakfast-in-bed, doesn’t he?”
The smell of pancakes drifts through the bedroom door - along with Yuji’s answering call. “True…but what if papa won’t wake up?”
“Then we eat the pancakes.”
“Yes—” Yuji echoes, “Thank you, Cupid.”
“Hm?”
“Because Cupid made you n’ papa married, right?” But of course. It leaves you stunned for a few seconds, and Yuji obliviously chattering. “I’ve always wanted to keep you- papa, too. Even though I know he won’t say—can we keep you now, Ms. Nanny?”
Your voice sounds slightly thicker than before. “You can keep me as long as you want, Yuji.”
“Thank you, Cupid!”
Two evil cackles, and the sound of footsteps.
You’re opening the door with a flood of sunlight and a tray of pancakes in your hand. Yuji rushes in after you with a call of ‘good morning’ - and by the smile on your face…yeah.
Yeah, it really is a good morning.
He still doesn’t know how to explain to Yuji that the two of you aren’t married yet, however.
It’s in an hour that you finally break the news- but rush to assure the little boy before he bursts into tears, that he could ‘keep you’ as long as he wanted. And that the two of you were together—yes, together together. Nanami puts off answering Shoko (she ambushes him for gossip the very next day).
It’s in a month that you start officially calling yourselves lovers - boyfriend and girlfriend, whatever it is. It seems like so much more than that, however. And so Nanami just settles for introducing you as his partner at those tedious work dinners.
It’s in a few more months that those work dinners become the last he’s attending. Because Nanami Kento quits that damn job, using everything he’s saved up to buy a little bakery and a house just a small ways off from the heart of the city - not quite the countryside as he once imagined, but this was good, too. It was still a manageable distance from your university and Yuji’s school, and yet so much bigger than the apartment.
It’s in a year that Nanami’s bakery is at the height of business - a figure that will only keep growing as the years pass by. Word spreads far and wide about those treats- and soon enough, he’s forced to fire extra hands and more part-timers than he ever thought would be needed. The little bakery grows into a big bakery, with time.
You couldn’t have been more happy to see those dark circles underneath his eyes cease for once, to see him pursue his dreams. Yuji couldn’t have been more happy to get all the sweet treats he could’ve ever wished for.
And now, Nanami could buy him all the car beds he could’ve ever wished for.
He also starts looking into wedding rings.
He still isn’t sure about a Spiderman-themed wedding, but he knows he’ll be baking the cake.
A/N. Hehehe that Nanami and the flowers scene was inspired by my father having a tradition to always buy me a bouquet as well today.
synopsis: everyone thinks that satoru’s a cool frat boy and honestly, you don’t blame them. he looks the part and plays the role perfectly. but really, he’s a digimon fan with a bunch of merch and his supposed “bachelor pad” is completely different to what you were expecting. what was supposed to be a project assignment ends up being a digimon marathon.
word count: 3k
a/n: i don't like fratjo unless he's secretly a loser <3 also thank you to my nae for beta-reading hehe mwah (photos found on pinterest and art by @/inkyck; dividers by @/cursed-carmine)
fem!reader x gojo satoru, university!au, sfw
satoru was assumedly your typical fratboy. just like all the others in his fraternity - cocky, obnoxious, loud.
girls swarm him like moths to a lamp. a 6’3 lamp with an annoying charming grin that made hearts trip over themselves, a body so athletic and a voice so smooth it could hypnotise people. and with the way he receives heart-eyed looks and is always the centre of attention, he probably does unintentionally hypnotise them.
you’ve never understood the charm, though. not that you hate him, per se - you have no reason to. simply being neutral towards him. you’ll admit that he has the face of a model and the body of a greek god, but the admiration stops there.
you’ve only had minimal interactions with him. the crowd which he’s part of is vastly different to yours, giving you no reason to have to talk to him other than the one class you share together.
yet he notices you. the quiet girl who gets on with her work and goes about her day unbothered. the girl who blinks unaffected, even when he throws you a toothy grin and playful wink like it’s second nature for him.
he’s always been drawn to you because you don’t fling yourself at him like most girls (and guys) might. his curiosity kills him. he wants to know more about you. to go further than the simple “morning” or “hey, do you have a pen i can borrow?” (he’s never forgotten his pen; he has no need to ask).
so when your professor pairs everyone up for a presentation project, he’s over the moon when the two of you end up getting paired together. maybe always sitting in the seat next to yours and asking you for clarification on parts of the lectures finally paid off.
and when he invited you to his off-campus apartment because it’s “quieter with no distractions” (he doesn’t want you looking at any of the other frat guys), you were surprised, to say the least.
not because he invited you over rather than meeting at the campus cafe, but because of the digimon posters strewn on his bedroom walls and a shelf nailed into the wall above his desk filled with shounen manga. and below that, on the wall that his desk is pushed against, is a physics-related poster.
he watches your eyes curiously flick over all the dorky merch and decorations, and he brings a hand up to scratch the back of his head. people might think that he doesn’t care about what they think of him, but he desperately wants to know the thoughts going through your mind right now.
you half-expected to see a digimon plush on his bed but instead you find a neatly made bed with navy blue sheets.
is this the same gojo satoru that you know? the heartthrob of the campus? the cool and charming fratboy?
“what’s up?” he asks, breaking you out of your thoughts. “you’re looking at my room like it’s a murder scene.”
you snort softly, shaking your head. “nothing. just… didn’t take you for a digimon guy.”
he chuckles and plops down on his bed, leaning back on his palms and manspreading. “ah. well, the secret is out. promise you won’t tell and ruin my reputation?” he jokes, smile widening when your lips curve up softly.
he takes a moment to admire you outside of a class setting. the way you stand by his desk, fingers laced together and your shoulders slightly stiff as you rock back and forth on your heels like you’re unsure where to sit and what to do.
a soft smile tugs at his lips, dimples revealing themselves. completely different to the blinding grins he blesses everyone else with. a calm blue in his eyes despite his heart hammering behind his ribs.
standing up from the edge of his bed, he pulls out his wheeled desk chair and gestures for you to take a seat.
“sit down. i’ll get us some snacks. any preferences?”
“anything, as long as it isn’t those sugary atrocities you call food.”
his head tips back with laughter, his eyes sparkling with amusement when he looks at you again. “if it isn’t food, there wouldn’t be any nutritional value on the label,” he says matter-of-factly, though jokingly, and you can’t help but huff out a laugh.
he’s grinning to himself as he leaves his room and goes to the kitchen to scour some snacks. he can’t ignore the fluttering of his heart nor the warmth creeping onto his cheeks. and he has to mentally keep himself in check.
it takes him a few minutes to grab snacks, solely because he’s trying to remember what you like to eat. trying to remember the glimpses of seeing you have lunch under the oak tree, a book in your lap while you eat. you always look so peaceful and content, even if he wanted to go up to you to talk, he could never bring himself to pop that little bubble of peace.
when satoru finally comes back to his room, where you’re scrolling on your laptop that you propped up on his desk, black frames are sitting on his pretty face. opting to switch from his round sunglasses because his contacts were drying his eyes out.
you look up from the screen and take a double look, surprised to see him wearing glasses - you didn’t even know that he needed them. and you can’t help but admire him subtly as he places a bowl of crisps on the desk next to you, along with a packet of strawberry laces, a bar of chocolate, and two cans of cola.
“… you look cute with glasses,” you murmur, keeping your eyes on your laptop, scrolling purposelessly now to avoid making eye contact.
a grin immediately jumps onto his face like that was the first compliment he’s ever received as he sits back down on the edge of his bed, propping his elbow on his knee and resting his chin in his palm. his blue eyes lock onto you as he feels a flutter in his chest and an unfamiliar churn in his stomach.
“yeah? does that mean i finally have your attention?” his tone is velvety and teasing, but he’s internally filled with giddiness. he swears he feels like he’s floating.
you turn away from your laptop to glance at him curiously. “what do you mean?”
“well, sometimes you act like i’m invisible,” he huffs, pushing his glasses up his nose. “you’re the one person who looks at me like i’m… normal.”
you raise an eyebrow. “you are normal. you’re human, not some god.”
he chuckles at your bluntness, head tilting to the side and his pearly hair follows his movement, falling to the side gracefully like it was scripted. “i like how honest you are. makes you genuine, you know.”
“what, compared to the people who kiss your ass?” you ask, rolling your eyes at the thought.
amusement crinkles the corners of his eyes. “yeah, exactly that. this is… nice,” he admits softly.
it’s a nice change from being with the other fratboys and the people who flock to him. despite his heart beating rapidly each time you look at him or smile, he feels relaxed in your presence. like he doesn’t have to play a role or act a certain way.
you examine him again, trying to read him, trying to solve him like the many equations you’re able to crack.
“is this really you? or is this a new tactic of yours to try and get me in your bed?”
he chokes on his own spit at your direct question, the apples of his cheeks and tips of his ears turning red like he’s a prude. which, clearly, he’s the opposite of. sliding his way into hearts with his smooth words and wooing girls with a smile that lives on his mouth like it pays rent there.
but when it comes to you, it’s like all his charm flies out the window. like he doesn’t know how to flirt without becoming nervous.
“no!” he exclaims, before clearing his throat. “no, i’m not trying anything, i promise.”
and from his flustered reaction, you can assume he’s telling the truth.
“hm… why do you put on that persona, then? the popular one. assuming that it is a persona.”
his body language suddenly changes and he sits straighter, something suddenly shifting in his expression and his eyes don’t give any hint to his thoughts.
“i thought we came here to work on a project, not analyse me,” he dismisses lightheartedly, a faint smile on his lips. he comes off as unbothered, but at the same time, he manages to swiftly change the subject like he wanted to.
you nod, choosing not to pry. you aren’t friends anyway. turning back to your laptop, you pick up a few crisps while you read a paper.
you hear the pop of him opening a can of the sugary drink and he takes a few sips before setting it back down on the desk, on a coaster that has a pattern subtly referencing an anime.
he grabs his own laptop, and you ask for his email to share the document with him so you can work on the project together. you both agree to do some research first and he sits back against the headboard of his bed, long legs stretched out and his ankles locked.
the packet of strawberry laces rustles slightly as he picks it up and offers you some before mindlessly chewing on them as he works on his laptop, occasionally fixing his glasses.
you’re surprised that he readily agreed to the equal split of work and didn’t waste time on getting started. when you got paired with him, you assumed that you’d have to nag him about it or that you’d end up having to do it all by yourself while he takes half the credit.
though, he can’t help but steal a few glances at you while you work. watching your concentrated face, the way you rhythmically tap your fingers on your laptop while you’re thinking, how you brush your fingers through your hair every so often when it falls into your vision.
he manages to do work for an hour straight before he itches to talk to you again about anything other than the project (he was already missing talking to you after twenty minutes).
“sooo… you like digimon?” he asks, trying to break the silence and make a small attempt at conversation with you, to get to know you.
you look up at him, and the way his hair frames his features makes him look… soft. almost boyish. his frosty eyelashes fluttering when he looks up from his laptop and towards you.
it’s like there’s a different satoru in front of you. one who suddenly doesn’t know how to flirt or make conversation, and somehow his voice is more honeyed when he speaks to you - uncertain and lacking confidence. a contradiction to the air of confidence that follows him everyday like a shadow, even with a mere turn of his head.
you’ll admit that this is somehow more charming. like he isn’t putting up a front or being someone who he isn’t. like this is him.
after a few moments of pondering the switch in his behaviour once more, you reply, “not really. i mean… i barely know the difference between digimon and pokemon.”
a scandalised look befalls his expression as his mouth falls open, halfway through eating a strawberry lace.
“you’re kidding, right?” he scoffs, unbelieving. “digimon is like ten times better in terms of the power system and the characters. it was way ahead of its time, and it’s so much more complex in terms of the world-building and the deeper themes, and--”
suddenly, he pauses. realising that he was rambling and he gives you an awkward smile.
“shit, sorry,” he mutters, scratching the back of his head again. “you probably don’t wanna hear about all that shit.”
“on the contrary, actually,” you say, having listened to his mini rant with contentment. “it’s cute and dorky.”
“i got called cute by you twice today. aren’t i lucky?” he grins, all teeth and dimples. a soft pink dusting over his cheeks. “have i wooed you yet?” he teases.
“i say ‘cute’ in the way that people would call a puppy cute. don’t inflate your ego more than it already has been.” you roll your eyes, though playfully.
his grin never falters. knowing that you find him cute in any way makes him feel like an overly excited puppy. and it sounds much better coming from you compared to anyone else.
“still cute,” he affirms. he leans forward, setting his laptop aside on his bed. “alright, for every hour of work we do, we watch one episode of digimon,” he decides, “you know, to keep up the motivation or whatever.”
a smile tugs at your lips and you consider his suggestion - it wouldn’t be a bad idea.
“and,” he continues, checking the time on the clock hanging on his bedroom wall, “we’ve already done one hour.”
he stands up from his bed, stretching his arms over his head as he looks down at you with a smile. you get a glimpse of the ridges of his abs before he lowers his arms, his smile turning mischievous when he notices your eyes flicker downwards.
but he decides not to tease. instead he waits for your answer, hopeful that you’ll say yes.
“alright, just one episode,” you agree, and he beams.
three episodes later, neither of you realise that another hour has gone by; this time, without a shred of work being done. when you glance at the clock and realise the time, you sit up straight on his sofa.
“gojo, we said one episode,” you huff, confused as to how you let the time slip past you. yeah, you probably got distracted by his quiet explanations throughout the episodes and his humming to the soundtrack, but you still don’t know how you let it happen.
when you reach for the remote, he turns to you with a pout. “wait, wait, we have plenty of time to get the assignment done.”
“well, i prefer to stick to a schedule and not waste time.”
“well, you’ll have to get used to being a little more chill, stickler,” he argues childishly, watching you pause the episode and you give him a firm look. “fiiineeeuuhh, i guess we’ll do some work.”
he drags his feet going back to his room and getting back to the project, lazily sprawled on his bed with his laptop while you sit at his desk again. he’s slightly more distracted this time around like he’s itching to do anything else. and it wasn’t the desire to watch more digimon, but to spend more time with you outside of a class or project setting.
you had left a distance between the two of you while you were sitting on his sofa watching digimon, but having you sit close to him made him feel a type of fuzziness that he’s never felt before. he thinks about having your body warmth so close to his, the way you seemed relaxed and were enjoying watching it. he can’t help but want more moments like that with you.
satoru doesn’t realise that he ended up zoning out, pretty eyes on you, glassed over with a deep yearning and a delicate blush on his cheeks.
“… gojo?” you call quietly, a concerned lilt in your voice when you notice him stuck in a trance.
“satoru.”
“huh?”
“call me satoru,” he clarifies, now back to reality and smiling at you softly.
“oh… okay, satoru,” you say, tasting his name on your tongue and the way it rolls off so sweetly.
his heart lurches. he wants to memorise your voice and how you say his name. he wants to bottle up each smile and gaze you give him. he wants to cherish every moment with you. and he can’t help the words that he says next from tumbling out.
“do you wanna go out with me?” he asks, before immediately waving his hands as if to defend himself. “i mean… not as a date, unless you want that. but like-- fuck… i just want to get to know you. if that’s okay with you. i get it if not--”
your light laugh cuts him off from his nervous rambling, and he looks at you with puzzlement and surprise and awe. his palms feel clammy and his heart thumps in his chest it’s as if he can hear it pounding in his ears.
is this what it’s like to have a crush? god, i just made myself look like a fucking loser. but she’s so cute when she laughs i can’t even be upset.
“sure.”
“yeah, whatever, that’s okay. i didn’t think you’d want to-- wait, what?” he looks stunned, like he was prepared for you to turn him down. or at least hesitate before saying yes. maybe he would’ve had to wait for a few more of these sessions before you agreed.
“i said sure. although, i wouldn’t want to term it as a date. not yet, at least. getting to know each other sounds nice if you bring along this you, not the other you.”
his mouth parts slightly, his mind racing with thoughts. “… this me? you like this version of me?” he asks, sounding shocked. and here he thought he was making a fool out of himself.
you nod, giving him a sweet smile that makes his heart trip over itself. “the real you, right?”
“fuck, if i had known that you like this… nevermind, it doesn’t matter now. okay. okay, i’ll plan something for us.” he can’t bite back the smile of pure giddiness, and he feels like a lovesick schoolgirl, internally swinging his legs back and forth. a rush of ideas already come to him - the hard part will be choosing a single plan.
“i look forward to it, satoru,” you say, and he clings onto every word. “but we do still have our project to do.”
he doesn’t deflate like he did before at the mention of the assignment. because this time he has something to keep him motivated. and at least he knows that this won’t be the only reason you guys hang out. if anything, he’s more eager.
Warnings: 18+, MDNI/NSFW, Yuta makes an appearance, Nanami is protective and feral, some confusion and angst towards the end, jealous Nanami, Shoko is a guard dog, some fluff, very dialogue heavy, no one can talk about their feelings
A/N: Hi everyone!! So sorry for the wait on this chapter! Work has really picked up this week, and I haven't had as much off time as I thought I would so typing has been slow but!! We're here! This chapter is very dialogue heavy so for that I apologize, but I think at this point it's just how I write lol. Enjoy!!
Please find below the name and address of the restaurant for dinner tonight at 6pm. If it’s alright with you, I’d like to pick you up. Could you please send your address as well? Thank you.
Kento Nanami
Rica’s Kitchen
3 Chome-22-11 Nakameguro, Meguro City, Tokyo 153-0061, Japan
It’s in the middle of the morning rush on a Friday when your phone buzzes in your apron. A short break between customers has you slipping the device from the pocket behind the register. Eyes flying over the screen, you snort at the text message beaming up at you. Does he always write his text messages like business emails?
0914
From: Child’s Mother
Sounds good!! You don’t have to sign your text messages btw, you’re saved in my phone so I know who they’re from!! My address is:
1-Chome-19-11 Okusawa, Setagaya City, Tokyo 158-0083, Japan
Please don’t feel like you have to pick me up, I’m rather far from the restaurant and you don’t have to waste your time if you don’t have to, I wouldn’t mind meeting you there :)
09:16 AM
From: Nanami Kento (Baby Daddy)
I don’t mind, really. You could never be a waste of my time. I’ll be outside at 6pm.
And across the city in a high-rise business building, one salaryman is typing behind his computer with no clue what keys his fingertips are landing on. His mind is fully occupied with the device beside his keyboard on his desk and making sure he doesn’t miss when your name flashes across the screen. Was that too risky of a message?
0920
From: Child’s Mother
Alright, I can’t wait. Looking forward to seeing you again :)
9:21 AM
From: Nanami Kento (Baby Daddy)
Nanami Kento (Baby Daddy) liked a message
He would never admit to the way his shoulders relax as soon as he sees your message and knows he hasn’t overstepped.
And he’ll never know the way blood rushed to your cheeks when you read his message. You could never be a waste of my time.
Which could mean nothing.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
It’s 5:55 when a knock sounds from your front door.
“Of course, he would show up early and not just text that he’s here,” you’re grumbling under your breath while wrangling an earring into your ear. But Shoko beats you to it, and suddenly you’re racing to finish getting ready before she can give him the 3rd degree.
The evening had been a time. Shoko had knocked on your door sometime around 4 with a bottle of wine and a rose between her teeth, waggling her eyebrows at you as you rolled your eyes and left the door open for her. Her laughter followed behind you into the apartment.
“I should have never told you about tonight,” You’re shouting from the bedroom as she shuffles around in your kitchen. “I can’t even drink what you brought!”
“It’s not for you, genius. It’s for me, when you get back from tonight and I have to listen to you complain about your love life like you don’t have legitimately one of the hottest men I have ever seen making goo goo eyes at you all night,” Shoko whistles as she appears in the doorway, taking in the disaster spread throughout the room. “That serious, huh?”
You’re chucking a balled-up sweater at her head before she can catch it, but it just makes her laugh again.
“Yes, it is that serious. He even said it’s not a date, and I know it’s not a date, and yet....,” You’re gnawing on your lip as you think through your next words but decide they’re not even worth the breath to say them out loud. “Never mind. Help me pick something out?”
In an hour, Shoko has you standing in front of the mirror and smiling at your reflection. In the end, a baby tee beneath a dress and some flat soled sneakers was the answer to your dilemma. Easy, casual, and good for the heat you knew would dwell into the evening.
And that’s landed you here, losing track of time until the knock on your front door. But before you can even get out of your bathroom, you hear the door click open.
“Uhh, good evening, I’m here to pick up-“
“Oh, I know who you are, Mr. Baby Daddy,” Shoko is glaring at Nanami as he chokes on the nickname.
“I-I’m sorry, what did you just-“ Nanami is cut off by you this time as you finally make it to the front door, absolutely mortified.
“Shoko! Oh my god, get away from there, you fucking psycho,” You usher her away from the door as she grumbles something about a guard dog, but you pay her no mind as your eyes sweep over the man on your stoop.
Gone is the tan suit you’ve seen him in twice, replaced with a soft blue linen button down over a pair of khakis. His hair is loose, part of it tucked behind his ear. He looks relaxed and so much younger, like the suit he wears adds years to his face. You’re so distracted you almost don’t notice the bouquet of daffodils clutched to his chest.
“Hey,” He’s pushing the flowers towards you while your brain is still catching up to what your eyes are taking in. “These are for you. Almost ready?”
“Yeah, nearly. Come in, come in, let me put these in some water,” You’re stepping back to let him into your home before making a beeline to the kitchen, shooting a glare at Shoko on the couch as she bites back a grin. You’re rummaging below the sink when you hear Shoko clear her throat.
“I’m Shoko Ieri, the best friend. I’ve heard lots about you, Nanami. Nice to meet you.” She doesn’t bother to get off the couch to properly introduce herself, just waves from across the room as Nanami’s eyes flit around.
He bows his head slightly, turning to face Shoko. “Nice to meet you. I’m Kento Nanami, the......baby daddy,” His eye twitches at the last phrase, belying his feeling on how scummy the phrase sounds coming off his tongue. “I will admit though, I haven’t heard much about you. How long have you two known each other?”
Shoko’s hand flies to her chest as she gasps in fake dramatics. “’Haven’t heard much about me?’” She parrots back, leaning back on the couch to catch your eye as you stand from beneath the sink, dusty vase in hand. “What am I, chopped liver?”
You’re rolling your eyes before you can help it as you fill the glass vessel. “Yes, Shoko. The scum of the earth, clearly,” Your eyes shift to Nanami to find he’s already looking at you. Focused, eyes soft, the ghost of a smile turning the corners of his lips up. “Just haven’t talked much about that kind of stuff. Really what tonight is for, no?”
“Yes, and speaking of, we should get going,” Nanami’s eyes drop down to his wrist and the gold watch wrapped around it. “Our reservation is at 7 so we should head out.”
You shoot one last glare at Shoko as she mouths shut the fuck up at the man holding your door open for you. You just shake your head before slipping your shoes on and stepping into the humid night, Nanami following and closing your door behind you two.
“Sorry about her. She can be....a lot, and by that, I just mean really annoying,” You’re scratching at the back of your neck sheepishly, but Nanami just offers an easy smile as you two fall into step together.
“It’s alright, I can understand being defensive over a best friend. I know she just wants what’s best for you, and this whole....thing,” He gestures into the air with his hand. “Can’t be easy on her either,”
His statement settles around you and ushers in an easy silence as your walk to the train station. Tokyo is coming to life in the dusk around you; restaurants bustling with people inside, kids running down the street from school to home, the sound of families in the kitchen floating down the street from open windows. It’s peaceful and warm, and you’re content to soak in the night with Nanami by your side.
Tokyo’s rush hour is in full swing, and every square centimeter of available space is taken by someone or other. Nanami guides you onto a car with a hand on the small of your back, the heat from his palm radiating into your skin. Once inside, he’s keeping his back between you and the oppressive crowd while you stand right beside the door. His hands come to hold onto the railing above his head, standing over you protectively, head bowed to keep his gaze on you in the silence. Some feral part of your brain is singing at how he stands, his hulking form keeping you from brushing against strangers.
And inside the head of the man himself, Kento can’t even be irritated by the people pressing in on all sides on him for he is too dialed in on you. The way the scent of your shampoo floats up when you nervously adjust your hair, the way your eyes reflect the lights above his head when you look up at him, and how pretty you look in the dress you have on tonight.
He swore his heart had stopped beating for a minute when you opened that door for him tonight; backlit by the kitchen lights, hair cascading over your shoulders, just looking so beautiful. Knowing it was for him, even if he told himself it wasn’t a date, still made his chest burn.
Before he can shake himself of his thoughts clouded with you, the train takes a sharp turn, sending you hurtling face forward into his chest. Nanami braces against the loops his hands fit in as he holds up both his and your own body weight. A warmth flares to life in his gut at the feeling of your body against his, lizard brain coming online and telling him to hold you and keep you safe.
But all too soon, you’re scrambling back with a hand on his chest to push yourself away, expression screaming embarrassment while your eyes shine in something just short of panic and a crimson flush runs down your neck.
“I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to just.... face plant into you,” Your hand hovers over his clean shirt like you somehow damaged it. You tuck your hair behind your ear and lower your eyes to your feet like the answer to erasing such a stupid moment lies in your shoelaces.
Your eyes close for a split second before there’s two fingers below your chin, gently grasping to lift your face up to meet soft hazel eyes.
“Hey,” His voice is quiet to not disturb the hush of the car. “It’s no big deal, really what I’m here for anyways,” Nanami’s eyes bounce over your face as you nod, really all you can manage in your flustered state.
Mercifully, the train arrives at your destination soon after, and you’re off as soon as the doors open. You drag in a breath, and it feels like the first one you’ve truly taken since Nanami showed up on your doorstep. He takes up so much space in his physical form but crowds out more space in your head than you’d ever confess.
“Come on, this way,” His hand slips into yours easily as he navigates through the throngs of people on the platform, his large frame clearing the way for you behind him. You’ll panic with Shoko later over how natural it felt to hold onto his hand.
But the moment is over as soon as it begins as you trek up the stairs out of the station and onto the street level, your hand loosing from his grasp as soon as you’re free of the crowds. You’re in a quieter part of the city, more residential than anything. The restaurant is down a narrow side street at the bottom of an apartment block.
Quiet and intimate is the word you’d choose as you step into the door Nanami holds open for you. A few other patrons take up room in the small space, and there’s a bar with another couple sitting at it. Nanami gives his name and the hostess guides you to a small table set for two beside a window looking back onto the street.
The summer sun is being swallowed by the horizon, its dying light beaming through the window as you both take a seat. It washes over Nanami and illuminates the gold woven through his hair. His hazel eyes, glowing amber in the last rays, catch on yours, and you’re caught. Exposed for a second at being reminded how handsome he really is. It’s not like it’s a secret; after all, there’s a reason you left with him that night, but sitting here and soaking up the sun? It’s like you’re seeing him for the first time all over again.
“Good evening folks! My name is Yuta, I’ll be your server tonight. Can I get you started with some drinks?” Your waiter, a young man with shaggy dark hair, brings you back down to earth with his questions, thankfully. Nanami is asking after the specials while you’re trying to act like some warm little thing didn’t just burrow it’s way into your heart.
“And before I go, any special occasion tonight? Just a date night?” Yuta’s eyes bounce between you and Nanami as he waits for an answer and you both seem to short circuit at the suggestion. Nanami’s back goes ramrod straight as his eyes land on you as if waiting to follow your lead.
“No, no, nothing-“
“It’s not like that-,” Your voices overlap in an awkward denial, cutting yourselves off as soon as the other opens their mouth. Yuta just nods with an uncomfortable “ok” like he regrets asking and turns on his heel.
“Sorry. Caught a little off guard, you know?” You chuckle but there’s little humor behind it. Nanami just heaves a sigh and doesn’t respond, choosing to bury his nose in his menu in his lap. This is going great.
Yuta returns with two waters soon thereafter, and the awkwardness is forgotten in deciding over the beef or chicken. Nanami breaks the silence the server leaves in his wake, fiddling with the silverware on the table as he starts speaking.
“So, this might be weird, but I feel it should be discussed before you get too far along, and we’re here. What is our plan going to look like as far as raising the little one,” He clears his throat like it will help clear the stiff air hanging over the table. “Coparenting? Split custody? Do we need to get a lawyer involved in this?” Nanami’s gaze pins you to your seat as your mouth twitches, mulling over his questions.
“No, no lawyers. I really see no reason to drag one into this, all things considered. There’s no bad blood, we’re not in a relationship,” You pause to swallow and miss the way Nanami’s lip turns down the slightest degree.
“And I don’t see anything like that happening to even need something to that degree. We can probably decide on a custody schedule further down the line. Do you have a spare bedroom at your place? Where do you live anyways?” You sip your water and watch him over the glass.
“I do, and I live not far from you. Just a little further north into Setagaya. As for the spare, it agree it would be best to turn it into a nursery; I can start working on that in my off time. Assuming you’re going to be doing the same thing? Do you even have a second bedroom?”
“Of course. I’ll be roping Shoko and Suguru into helping me transform it,” You snicker at the thought of Shoko with painters tape and a roller, knowing she’d curse your existence the whole time but do it anyways.
“Suguru?” Nanami echoes back across the table, furrowing his brow. He knows he would remember another man’s name rolling off your tongue.
“My other best friend. I’ve known him even longer than Shoko, really. We grew up together, our parents were neighbors when we were kids. But he....” Your words slide to a stop, unsure of what to even say.
“He was upset when I told him and Shoko I was pregnant. Didn’t talk to me for a while, showed up on my doorstep the night of the ultrasound apologizing, but we got into a fight again and I haven’t spoken to him since,” A familiar heaviness makes a home in your chest remembering the way he had slunk out the door and into the night and the radio silence that’s lingered since.
Nanami’s eyes darken as you speak, some shadow of anger clouding his eyes. “It might not be my place, but that doesn’t sound like much of a friend to me,”
Words in Suguru’s defense sit heavy on your tongue, but you know the point Nanami makes is true. How Suguru has treated you since you told him isn’t what a friend would really do, especially one that you’ve known for as long as him.
“Yeah. I think some part of me knows that but isn’t ready to let go yet, you know?” Nanami watches as your eyes lose focus, drifting back somewhere to your memories of a stranger.
“But we don’t have to talk about that,”
Your mouth pulls up in a small smile but there’s no warmth in your eyes, and Nanami hopes for his sake that he never meets the man that’s caused this much sadness to take root in you.
<><><><><><><><><>
“I feel like I should be making some joke about a food baby, but that’s not quite true,” You’re giggling at yourself as you walk out of the restaurant and into the warm and dark night.
You had gotten completely lost in conversation with Nanami. Swapping stories, complaints about siblings and parents and coworkers, and all the easy things that makes up a person’s identity. You learn he’s Danish, despises having to work overtime, and is a serious bookworm.
You tell him about your career before the bakery, how your family settled in Tokyo generations ago after emigrating, and how you were allergic to penicillin and turtles.
Before you knew it, Yuta was giving you the boot as the lights turned off over the bar. Nanami had tossed out several large yen notes from his wallet onto the table and was standing before you could even argue over the bill, like it wasn’t even a thought for him.
You’re stone cold sober but feel tipsy from the night that’s transpired. Nanami’s eyes have softened over the course of the night, like spending time with you bled the tightness from his body.
Two hands stretch your dress over the bottom of your belly, highlighting the swell there as he falls into step beside you.
But all he gives you is a noncommittal hum as he glances to where your hands have highlighted the bump where his baby grows. You watch as the muscles in his jaw tick as he stares back straight ahead, his back tightening again. And the message isn’t lost on you as you drop your hands and try not to let his reaction stain the memory of the rest of the night.
It’s a quiet train ride back to your apartment. The traffic from earlier is all but gone, and the only company in the train is a few drunk tourists, talking loudly across the aisle from you. You’re fighting your eyelids and trying in vain to keep your head from falling over onto his shoulder.
Normally you would just have let it drop, too tired to care if it was even a stranger beside you. But he’s seemingly reverted to the postured salaryman you knew from the beginning. You’re not sure what you did to make him act like this, but you don’t want to make him any more uncomfortable, so you lean your head against the cold metal railing instead and try to stay awake for the walk back.
And Nanami sits on his hands while a war is waging inside his own mind. He knows he’s a rational adult, but you showing off your bump leaving the restaurant had triggered something in his head that he could not stifle. He knew he’d do something stupid if he so much as glanced at you after that, so what had he done instead? Gone internal and silent, cutting you off with some wall drawn up in an instant.
And now he’s here. Watching with self-induced heartache as you try and try to fight off the sleep pulling you under. He wants to tuck up against you, slouch in his seat so he’s at your height and offer his shoulder, but he doesn’t.
He sits there and watches in agony as you lean against the railing instead. It’s cold and unforgiving and everything he’s not, but the irony isn’t lost on him. So instead of doing what he wants to, Nanami drowns in a sorrow he brought upon himself and doesn’t move.
His silence lasts all the way to your front door. Shoko is inside and you know the door is open for you, but for now Nanami stands in front of you. The porch light she left on paints half his face and leaves the other side shadowed, and you briefly think it’s a good metaphor for his hot and cold attitude tonight.
“Thanks for dinner tonight, I had a good time. And I’m sorry if I said something off putting earlier. You got kind of...tense, afterwards, and I’m sorry if I offended you,” He’s opening his mouth to say something, anything. Anything to keep you from walking into that door with a poor impression of him, but you’ve already turned your back and walked the few steps to your door.
“Goodnight, Nanami,” And that’s all he gets before Shoko appears from the other side and lets you in with one last glare pinned on him.
The door swings shut with a click, and you’re gone from his sight. Nanami doesn’t see your lower lip start to tremble as you recount the night to Shoko, and you don’t see the frustrated man kicking himself all the way back to his apartment.
Pairings: widowed single dad! Toji x divorced! Reader(F)
Summary: His wife died a year ago and Toji Fushiguro has felt like his life has been on autopilot since then. Every day is just the same continuous loop.
Your marriage ended five months ago, four years down the drain. And now you find yourself living with your sister and brother-in-law, trying to pick the pieces of your crumbling life back up.
A chance meeting brings these two broken souls together.
Trigger Warnings for Chapter: mentions of spousal loss, brief reference of domestic violence, mention of miscarriage late term, dealing with grief, self loathing, pretty much this first chapter is nothing but angst to rev up the feel of the story.
WC: 1.9K
--- || Next
He always loved how Kyouka could only fall asleep draped over him. A cuddle bug through and through–his sweet wife.
Mornings like this were Toji’s favorite, especially when he woke before she did.
The sun had just begun slipping through the curtains, casting golden rays across the once-dark bedroom. On his bare chest, Toji felt the soft puff of Kyouka’s breathing as she slept peacefully. Her head rested on his collarbone, one hand splayed across his sternum, her legs tangled with his beneath the blankets.
A quiet laugh escaped him, a smile tugging at his scarred lips. He ran one large hand slowly up and down her back, the other resting over her much smaller hand on his chest. He gave it a gentle squeeze and pressed a tender kiss to the top of her head, her messy black spikes tickling his nose.
Megumi could never blame anyone but her for his wild, unmanageable hair. That was all Kyouka. But once he got older—if he ever questioned where his good looks came from—Toji would take credit in a heartbeat.
“Babe,” Toji murmured, giving her hand another squeeze. Kyouka let out a sleepy groan, and he chuckled. “I’m gonna have to get up soon.”
“No,” she mumbled in a sleep-laced voice, burrowing even closer. “You don’t work today. You’re staying home and being my personal body pillow.”
“I’m always your personal body pillow.”
Kyouka didn’t budge. Toji rolled his eyes playfully and tried to slide his hulking frame out from beneath her—only for her to latch onto him like a baby koala.
“Kyouka, seriously. I have to get up. Shiu will be pissed if I'm late again.”
“Then let him be pissed.” She lifted her head, resting her chin on his chest with a soft pout on her beautiful face. His green eyes met her dark ones. “I want my husband for a little bit longer.”
And how could he deny that face?
Kyouka really did have some kind of magic in her blood to make Toji fold the way he did for her.
“Alright, fine,” he sighed, settling back against the pillows. Kyouka immediately snuggled closer—impossibly closer. “You win, baby.”
She giggled. “I know.”
“Don’t be so cocky. I’m not gonna keep letting you get your way.”
“You’ve been saying that for years, Toji. Eight years married, one wonderful son later, and I’m still managing to get my way.”
Toji tsked. “That’s because you’re spoiled. Like milk.”
“And who left me out on the counter, hm?” she teased, lifting her head to look at him again. When he turned away, her smile sharpened with mischief. “That’s what I thought.”
Toji lifted his head, placing a hand on the side of her face before capturing her lips in a soft, lingering kiss. Kyouka cupped his cheek in return, her fingertips brushing the light stubble along his chin. She pulled back before the kiss could deepen.
“Toji?” she whispered, pressing her forehead to his.
“Yeah, baby?” he murmured, smiling as he rubbed his nose against hers. He wanted to kiss her again. Her lips were so soft. He loved them. He loved her.
Kyouka gave a little hum and kissed him again–one more soft, gentle press of lips–before pulling away, smiling into his eyes.
“It’s time to wake up.”
Toji blinked his eyes open slowly, staring up at the ceiling. Sunlight bled through the curtains, casting gold across the darkened bedroom. Beside him, the alarm clock blared on the nightstand.
He let it go for a moment, long enough to turn his head. The empty side of the bed was a cruel reminder it had all been a dream. And another reminder that his wife—his beautiful, loving, sweet Kyouka–was no longer there.
Because she had died a year ago.
The alarm kept shrieking. Toji exhaled through his nose, annoyed and exhausted. He sat up, blankets sliding down to pool at his waist.
“Okay, okay–fuck,” he muttered, smacking the digital clock hard enough to shut it up. He dragged a hand down his face before yanking the blazers off and swinging his legs over the edge, bare feet hitting the wooden floor. He cracked his neck, rubbed his shoulder. “Let’s get this shit over with.”
He pushed himself to his feet, scratching his stomach as he shuffled toward the adjoining bathroom to shower. Same routine as always. He’d get himself ready, then go wake up Megumi and get him ready for the day—
Unless the little turd was already awake by the time he was done.
******
You had never felt so hollow in your life.
The hot spray of the shower washed over you. The water should have been scalding your skin, burning you even—yet you felt nothing. Only coldness. You lay curled on the tile floor in a fetal position, arms wrapped tightly around your midsection as your tears slid down your face, mixing with the water spiraling toward the drain.
Five months ago, your marriage ended. Four years gone. Four years down the drain, and nothing to show for it. And it was all your fault–at least, that’s what you told yourself. Everything that had happened yourself to do it.
Mostly because you loved the man. He had been your childhood sweetheart, after all. You’d grown up together. Shared your firsts together.
You had every chance after the first time he blackened your eye. Every chance after the bruises. After the way he took you on your wedding night. Every chance after every woman you caught him with.
Chance after chance after chance after fucking chance. And still, you stayed.
You loved him. You didn’t give up on the people you loved—even when loving them hurt you in the end.
Stupidly, you clung to the hope that your love would be enough to change him. If you kept showing him how deeply you cared, if you proved again and again that you wouldn’t give up on him, maybe he would change. Maybe the cruelty would stop, and you could both start fresh. Maybe you could be in love the way he should have been from the beginning—like it was when you started dating as two young middle schoolers.
That he would finally return the love you had for him. And that he would mean it.
Just how horribly wrong you had been.
Your inability to leave the bastard finally came to an ugly head after a heated argument. You couldn’t even remember what started it or what it was about. All you remembered was slapping him across the face–only to receive a vicious backhand in return. He hit you hard enough that you tasted copper.
You staggered back and slammed into the wall, rattling the picture frames. One fell from the impact. Groaning, you slid down the wall until you were sitting on the floor.
You didn’t even have time to breathe before another backhand cracked across your cheek, sending you fully to the ground. Instinctively, your hands flew to your stomach.
You were seven months pregnant with your first child—a little boy you were going to name Caspian.
Your ex-husband loomed over you, and your own pleading voice seemed to echo in your ears even now as the memory sharpened: the first kick landing squarely against your stomach. You were trapped, pressed between the wall and his fury.
You remembered each kick—one after another after another. You remembered how your cries grew louder and louder as you begged him to stop. But he didn’t. He never stopped.
He just kept yelling, cursing, and kicking. His rage was blind and wild, and though most of his blows targeted your stomach, his foot struck wherever it landed. The last thing you remembered before everything went black was the sudden rush of wetness between your thighs.
You woke up hours later in a hospital bed, hooked up to machines. Your ex-husband was nowhere to be seen, though you weren’t sure if that was a relief or another kind of ache. Tamsy, your older sister, sat beside you and held your hand in both of hers. Through the crack in the doorway, you could hear the low, tense murmurs of your brother-in-law speaking with someone.
It was Tamsy who told you about Caspian. Your sweet, sweet boy.
She had been the one to break the horrible, gut-wrenching news that your baby… was gone.
And you knew it was all your fault.
Now here you were again—crying in the shower, probably running up your sister and brother-in-law’s water bill.
Crying over a marriage you should have ended years before the divorce. Crying over a man you spent your whole life loving, a man you wanted desperately to love you back—yet he never gave a shit about you. A man who ruined you. And crying for a son you couldn’t save, all because you refused to leave his father. Because you stupidly believed your love could change him.
And you also found yourself crying for the version of yourself you had let die years ago.
After a while, you finally forced yourself to finish your shower. You were more than sure Sukuna still needed to get ready for work, and you were already enough of an inconvenience living under their roof—no matter how many times Tamsy swore you weren’t. No need to hog all the hot water on top of it.
Fully dressed now, you stood in your room towel-drying your hair when a knock sounded at the door. You still had the towel draped over your head as you turned toward it. The door opened to reveal your seven-year-old niece, Aimee, smiling brightly. She was still in her pink pajamas, which was covered in little cartoon stars and clouds.
With her crimson eyes and her hair, she looked like a tiny replica of Sukuna–though, if you were being honest, and you’d never let your sister hear you badmouth her husband’s looks, your niece was a whole hell of a lot cuter than your brother-in-law was.
“Good morning, my love,” you greeted warmly. You smiled back at her and hoped it reached your eyes. No reason for her to know you’d spent your entire shower crying. Again.
“Good morning, Obasan!” Aimee chirped, her smile growing even bigger, crimson eyes sparkling. “Mama told me to come see if you were ready to eat breakfast with us. She made pancakes–and I helped!”
“You did?” you asked. Aimee nodded her head eagerly, her salmon-pink locks bobbing with the motion. You giggled. “Well, what kind of Obasan would I be if I didn’t try some of the yummy breakfast you helped make?”
Aimee clapped, letting out a delighted giggle. “I’ll tell Mama you’re gonna eat with us, Obasan!”
You watched her spin around on her heels and dart out of your room, leaving the door open as she ran down the hallway. “I'll make sure Daddy doesn’t eat all the pancakes before you get some!” she called back.
You waited until the sound of her feet and her little giggles faded away–and your smile dropped instantly, like it had never been there at all. You exhaled and pulled the towel from your hair, tossing it into the laundry basket at the foot of your bed.
You gave yourself a few moments to gather yourself, willing your expression into something resembling normal. You patted your cheeks lightly and tucked a few damp strands of hair behind your ears.
“Okay,” you murmured as you stepped out of your room, leaving the door open behind you. Your sock-covered feet padded softly against the hardwood as you walked into the hallway. Just another day of trying to pick up the crumbling pieces of your life.
You managed a soft smile as you started down the stairs. You could already hear Aimee’s voice chattering–likely to your sister–and the gruff rumble of Sukuna responding to something.
“Let’s do this, then.”
I’ve had this idea rambling in my head for a bit now and here it is. Also, much as I love Sukuna, I have started to develop an unhealthy obsession with Toji. So, I had to write this fic about him.
Now, I’m not entirely sure how many parts this is going to be, but I’m not trying to make it too drawn out. But I don’t want the story to be rushed either. We’ll see how it goes.
☆. ⋆ .☆ Newlywed husband! Nanami who can't get enough of you now that you're officially his wife! ☆. ⋆ .☆
18+ MDNI
☽✧⋆✦⋆✧⋆✦⋆✧⋆✦⋆❀❀⋆✦⋆✧⋆✦⋆✧⋆✦⋆✧☾
✦ Newlywed husband! Nanami who had always prided himself on self-restraint and composure, who never ever let himself fall prey to the grubby hold of the feeling known as desire.
He worked as a CEO—owned a distinguished business that he’d worked his ass off for back in university, where he earned all his degrees and developed background knowledge on entrepreneurship.
He’d spent countless nights in his dorm, preparing not just for his exams, but for a future—his now very present reality.
✧ Newlywed husband! Nanami who, despite the insurmountable amount of work and responsibilities, rarely ever showcased his need or pent-up desire. Not even when he was stressed and overworked.
His life had been one that he worked towards, and he couldn’t fold simply because of stress.
He worked in a world in which he considered a corporate purgatory—there was no life, no light, no exciting buzz—and that’s exactly how he liked it. There was nothing that coaxed him home on the nights he decided to work a little later because there wasn’t much for him outside of running his business.
But! It was what he always wanted; a life that thrived off his success—a life where he made a living for himself without having to depend on anyone else.
So, in order to maintain the dream that he was living, he worked late and rarely ever made it home on many occasions because he never had a reason to—until he met you; all bright smiles and glowing eyes that always seemed to catch the light just right.
✦ Newlywed husband! Nanami who had been captured, captivated by your charm. You’d been an intern when he’d first laid eyes on you, stumbling into the boardroom where you’d been able to witness your first ever big meeting.
You hadn’t been tardy, not exactly, you hadn’t been clumsy, simply… different. Nothing like the employees that he had personally handpicked to work for him.
Nanami hadn’t ever been faced with distractions in his entire life, but by the heavens above, he swore that you were some kind of disconcerting deity.
✧ Newlywed husband! Nanami who had gone home that evening with you on his mind, your smiling face etched into the reveries of his mind. He’d been discombobulated and struggled to unravel the reasoning behind why he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He hadn’t even uttered a single word to you and neither had you him.
✦ Newlywed husband! Nanami who had been rather curious about this effect that you seemed to have on him and had started making excuses just to see you around the building. He usually never left his office, but he needed to grasp who you were as an entirety.
He’d often see you chatting away with other interns or buried in the tasks you had to tackle for the day.
Whenever you saw him, you ensured to greet him with a polite smile and that’s when Nanami realised that you’re always smiling, always drawing people in.
He’s never had someone regard him so warmly before and it felt like he unlocked and discovered something new about himself. Having that warmth directed at him felt nice, it felt like a breath of fresh air.
✧ Newlywed husband! Nanami who felt light slowly illuminate his life whenever he just looked at you.
✦ Newlywed husband! Nanami who finally had enough of merely observing and admiring from a distance and decided to approach you one day during lunch hour.
You’d assumed that you’d gotten a task wrong or forgot to submit important files but imagine your surprise when your boss merely wanted to chat. From there, the two of you interacted whenever Nanami was free and despite his stoicism, he was a delight.
Hard to read, but a delight nonetheless.
✧ Newlywed husband! Nanami who, after about three months of hiding his feelings because you worked under him and his brand, decided that he’d change the policy, the rules of his business just so that he can ask you out on a date.
When you agreed, he wined and dined you at the finest restaurant and your dates didn’t stop at just one. There had been two and then three and then four and by the time the fifth one rolled around, he knew that he’d met his forever.
Nanami had spoiled you rotten the very moment the two of you made your relationship official—from your favourite sweet treats, to your favourite snacks to little gifts and trinkets.
He didn’t need a special occasion just to spoil you. He spoiled you because it felt right, it warmed his heart to see you smile whenever he gifted you with something unexpected.
✦ Newlywed husband! Nanami who finally got a taste of what desire felt like every single time he saw you. He’d feel his chest swell and tighten before ultimately, that tight feeling simmered low in his gut before sinking farther south where he’d leak like some eager teenager.
Gone was his discipline and what he thought was his well-constructed wall of self-restraint.
From the way you moved to the way you’d glance at him with the eyes of a temptress. Nanami wasn’t ever sure if you were doing it on purpose, but you always looked at him like you were hoping that he’d ravage you.
You no longer worked as an intern for his business and managed to meet the requirements for him to hire you completely, so his torture had been inescapable.
✧ Newlywed husband! Nanami who proposed having sex after your relationship blossomed into something serious, something meaningful and despite his lack of experience, despite his unwillingness to breach new territory, he was ready to take things to the next level with you.
✦ Newlywed husband! Nanami who made sweet, sweet love to you the first time you were intimate together—each thrust had been dragged out just to prolong your pleasure, each kiss had been reverent, and every breath had been an exhalation of his strength, his power to hold his own against you.
POOF!
It all dissipated into the heavy air thick with the scent of sex and fiery intimacy that left you tired and sore the very next morning.
✧ Newlywed husband! Nanami who proposed to you not too long after the first time you showed him nirvana, because he knew that he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t put the prettiest diamond ring on your finger.
And you said yes. Of course you did.
✦ Newlywed husband! Nanami who can’t, who simply CANNOT get enough of you now that the two of you are married.
Somehow everything feels different, it’s primal yet meaningful. It’s heartwarming yet consuming at the same time and knowing that you’re his in every sense makes Nanami feral.
He understands what it means to be consumed by desire and he lives for it now. Gone are the days where he works nonstop, gone are the nights he where he decides to hover behind just to get some extra work done.
Because now? Now Nanami has a reason to be home, he has the light that he really needed in his life waiting at home—either humming in the kitchen while putting a meal together or lounging in the living room waiting for his return. He’s still the CEO, so there are many times you get home before he does.
And, as he thrusts into you for the umpteenth time for the evening after a long day at work, he can’t help but lose himself in the feel of you. The feel of your warmth, your wetness and it’s all just for him.
○
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“Hck—Kento… mngh—wait ah—”
You arch your back, nails digging into the bed as Nanami plunges his cock deeep into the warm confines of your drooling orifice.
“Wait, my dearest—hah—love?” Nanami pants, lifting your arms only to interlock his hands with yours above your head before delivering another deeeeeep, deliberate thrust.
You gasp, body jerking as his bulbous cockhead kisses your sweet spot with a sweet, dulcet SMOOCH!
Perhaps on a different occasion the sentiment would have been sweet, heartfelt in a way that’d make your chest feel like it has been constricted by an abundance of blooming flowers and optimistic butterflies, because when were Nanami’s kisses never sweet?
Right now though, that engorged cock of his is being anything but sweet and it’s insatiable twitching can attest to that.
With the delicious swell of his cock decorated with puffy veins that draaaggs over your most sensitive spots just right, with that inflamed cusp that all but drools his creamy mucilage all over your abused cervix—there’s no doubt that your body, your pussy won’t find reprieve.
Not right now.
And how can Nanami give you that reprieve when your voracious cunt swallows him, accepts every thrust with the lewdest slurps known to man?
Over and over and over and over again. The sounds don’t stop.
PLAP! SQUELCH! SQUELCH! PLAP!
“I cannot… wait—hah—I’ve been waiting all day…”
He’s relentless, hungry—insatiable. Eager to please and give you everything that you deserve.
“My wife… nngh… my wife—god, you look absolutely ravishing taking me like this.”
You’d asked for this—well, not out loud. When you said “yes” after he’d gotten down on one knee, when you said “I do” in front of your closest friends and family, that was when you’d unknowingly asked for Nanami to metamorphosize into someone gluttonous, into a man that starved for his wife every. Single. Day.
“I feel so full, Ken—please, it’s too much,” your nails leave marks, evidence of just exactly how good your husband gives it to you time and time again.
“You can take it,” Nanami lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, placing a reverent kiss to your ankle before bullying his cock riiiight back within your velvety innards. “Your husband is right—hck—here, my dearest love.”
You cry out when Nanami hits that abused spongy spot at the new angle and you can feel another orgasm tickling your senses for about what could be the billionth time in one night. Nanami hadn’t let you catch a break, hadn’t allowed you away from him ever since he got home.
That had been four hours ago.
And your husband isn’t done, not by a long shot. Not when you cry out in ecstasy as your walls flutter around him, not when you call his name over and over again and certainly not when you’re asking for more like a greedy nymph.
Oh, how Nanami loves being newlyweds, how he loves that he gets to spend the rest of his life with you like this. All that's left to do now is stuff you nice and full until you're carrying his kids.
A/N: Okay... everything is taking waaaaaaay longer than anticipated and I've been battling with mental and emotional strain. Please, please accept this while I work on a couple of new things for you guys!
Also, I'll post my updated masterlist/to-do-list after this! When I finish everything that I'm currently fixated on, feel free to request the next idea you want me to work on! (Though please, leave everything with the trophies, those are banners for all of the series that I have planned for y'all, so that'll come out eventually. Oh! and that also includes anything with the white question marks!)
nanami doesn't even know he has a breeding kink until he finishes inside of you for the first time. ☆
it's like a flip switches in his brain, and the second that sweet release floods your womb he is plagued with the instinctual need to fill you over and over and over until something takes.
and breeding you doesn't have to mean a baby, but rather the primal possession that comes with having you spend the rest of the day with a part of him inside of you. no other man has the privilege, the right, or the reason to claim you as he has, and it does something nasty to the way he fucks.
he's still the gentleman he's always been: still makes sure you cum at least once on his fingers or tongue before he graces you with the hard-to-manage length of his cock. but rather than in the spirit of purely giving you pleasure, he's trying to ensure you're so wet that he can force himself just a little bit deeper inside of you than last time.
a guilt of his, perhaps, but kento read that if he were to edge himself between moments of intimacy with you, that his loads would be bigger, more forceful—and the idea of giving you even more of himself than he already had been is enough to get him hard. so he starts touching himself whenever the thought clouds his mind, which is more-often-than-not nowadays.
he fucks his fist to the thought of breeding you out, letting you milk him dry until you're so full of his cum that it has nowhere to go other than down your legs and onto the delicate sheets beneath you. stopping before he cums is a pain like none other, but his new adopted thought process claims a load spent anywhere other than balls-deep inside of you is a load wasted. #pemdas
and he doesn't say a word of it to you. you only pick up on it when you realise he won't cum anywhere else. when you're sat between his legs after a long day of work, coaxing those lovely groans from his chest as you choke on his cock. his hands try and guide you off of him before he gets close enough to lose control, says he doesn't want to cum down your throat, that he doesn't think he tastes good.
"i just... want to be inside of you, honey, is that okay?" he says when you question him. and you oblige because the way ken gets once he's finally seated inside of you is nothing other than animalistic. but you still wonder if there's a reason he avoids spilling his seed over your tongue or tits like he used to.
"you know I like the taste, right?" you glance over at him when he bends you over the arm of the couch and slips his aching cock into you. You doubt you'll ever get used to his size—he always has to take a moment to let you settle once he's in. "i'd brush my teeth with it if you added some fluoride into your diet."
"you are just so strange," he rubs his hand over the globe of your ass. "but i know. i just... prefer it this way, love."
"don't you like fucking my throat anymore?"
"god," he groans, presses his body into your back so that his breath fans over your ear. "no. i love your throat. i love all of you."
he thrusts forward to test the waters of your readiness. at your moan, another. kento rocks his hips, drags his cock out of you and then drives forward until you and him are as connected as you can be... almost.
you look over your shoulder at him again. "you wanna breed me, is that it?"
nanami's hips stall. you're not stupid, and he doesn't even realise he's got an arm wrapped under you so he can splay his fingers over your stomach. his wedding band presses against your skin, sets it alight with burning need. hearing you say it, though, makes him nearly cum on the spot—though he wouldn't be so selfish.
"how'd you—"
"you say it, ken," you drawl your words out, tease him with your tone. when you get a confused look in return, you explain further. "when you cum, you say you're gonna fuck a baby into me, that you're gonna 'breed me like the pretty whore i am'. which is so fucking rude, husband. but don't worry. i like it. i want it. "
he can hardly believe it, such words feel foreign to his mind. he wouldn't call you... that. say those things to you.
but they taste familiar on his tongue, like a part of his subconscious speaks on his behalf when he's all blissed out like that. he wonders just how deep the instinct to breed you runs, because his cock twitches and all of a sudden he's thrusting into you at a speed that seems only supernatural.
the snapping of his hips, the sound of skin against skin and the curses that slip from his lips like wine. it doesn't take long for you both to cum alongside each other—kento, of course, deep inside of you.
and it takes a very strong part of him to pay attention to himself this time, and you aren't a liar: the song of need and primal lust that spill from his mouth is made for porn. not that he can find it in himself to be embarrassed, you seem to like it, what with the way your whole body shakes in orgasm as he fills you up and whispers filth into your ear.
"you better tell me you don't want this before i start having you walk around the house plugged full of it."
#pemdas. yes another repost SHUT UP if you say i stole this ill steal you and sell you to the circus
his undertones always contained respect, especially against his beloved wife. his harsh (as harsh as a gentleman like him could be) words carried the specific warmness you reconned, his stern looks carried a glint of fondness beneath. even when he had been clearly upset with you, he made sure he always carried love and respect within. his soft hands found your waist while he voiced his displeasure, caressing your sides with gentle yet strict words.
he hold the doors for you all the time, whether his hands were occupied or not did not matter, it was out of question. he whispered “dear” in your ear right before asking for a favor, nuzzling to you with his soft body, his puffy hair tickling your cheeks, gentle voice tracing your ears and neck with his dewy lips touching you knowingly.
once you claimed to be tired, he was there with fuzzy blankets sliding down from his hands, a hot tea freshly brewed sitting by the couch, perfectly baked cinnamon rolls made their way to you and him, smiling tender, tracing your hair and massaging your scalp with his huge, relaxing hands.
you said the heat was getting to you, he was there to fan you nonstop for two hours, you were getting cold, even his sweater was out. there was only one spot available, he was crouching down beside you.
whenever your jokes went too far (the burdens of being an absolute comedian) he laughed them of with squeezing your tight a little firmer. not enough to hurt, but enough to let you know. he didn’t stop you, he could never have, he loved the creases appeared right besides your eyes whenever you laughed much harder, or the sounds you made, and your warm and comfy body pressing against his; but he warned without making it evident.
even when he kissed you without respect, pressed against the wall and all heated, he traced his hands down your hair with soft touches, untangling it since he knew how much you hated your hair getting tangled.
he had never let you sleep with an unresolved tension after a hurtful argument. he was outside the bedroom door, slouching down the hallway with his head between his hands, providing you the privacy and space of the bedroom while he whispered sweet words against the door with shallow breaths. you could hear the desperation through his voice carried by the muffled words, yearning to understand you, not to be only understood. seeking your feelings instead of pushing his’ upon you.
whenever he saw you getting tired from walking in heels all day, his eagerness to help you unfolded with him carrying you in his secure arms and squeezing you lovingly anytime he wished to press a kiss against your temple, your heels swinging down in his hands and you giggling nonstop into his broad chest. him, with a glowing smile on his face. your glossy eyes watching him tenderly, and his silky shirt caressing your face.
he came with his comfort, his ease, the storms silenced and your heart wavered. it was not the show he put on, it was his existence. it was him and his ways.
he studied your expressions through the day as a habit. he listened to you as an oath. he was present even when he physically was not. he left for work earlier then you did, and whenever you slept in, he prepared you the coffee just as you liked it, your breakfast was ready on the counter with a little note attached to it, your skirt you planned to wear for work freshly ironed and ready in your dressing room.
he carried your bags, pressed a warm kiss on your hand, bought you flowers just because. he showed how much he too enjoyed loving you, how much he adored loving you loudly and devotedly.
he endeared your presence. not what you had to offer.
and he didn’t make you feel less, like you ought to be protected, like you were lesser than a person than he was, like you were there to be kept, like you were powerless beneath his touch. like you needed his presence to be content.
instead, he made you feel equal and cherished, respected as a human, not just as a woman. this was him respecting and adoring you, not smothering you, not exerting his dominance over you inconsiderately. he seized any moment to cherish you. his gestures didn’t stem from your need, it came by his wish to love you better.
to love you grander.
and what made you love him more was that, his respect was not reserved for you only. his love, yes, solely for you, but he respected almost the whole existence because that’s who he was. he held the door for women, gave sweet treats to kids, spoke with gentle words to everyone he came across. he was a sweet man of endearing gestures.
nanami kento, the gentleman he is, made everyday easier for you to fall in love with him over and over again, with his stupid fashion sense and even dumber gentle heart.
‧ ₊❝ frat!sukuna pays for your nails so you it’s only fair you pay him back…by wrapping those pretty manicured fingers around his dick (contains smut, mdni)
“ryo, look! do you like my nails?” you hold out your hands, wiggling them in front of your boyfriend's face.
he snatches you by the wrist, raising his eyebrows to inspect your fingers, the piercing embedded in his skin moving with it.
"stop moving your fingers, brat. how do you expect me to see it if you keep waving it in my face?" his voice was agitated, yet he held your hands with such tenderness reserved for you.
your nails were a beautiful gradient from the soft pink of his hair to a red that matched his eyes at the tip. each nail had different patterns of black lines decorating it, replicating the inked tattoos on sukuna's body he was oh-so-famous for on campus. they were his thing. and by painting them onto your fingernails, it was essentially staking his claim on you.
"hm. it's nice," he finally says, smoothing the rough pad of his fingers over them.
"just nice? i thought you'd like them more, since...y'know, you were my muse," you teased.
he drops your hand, right hand dipping to the pocket of his jeans to fish his wallet out. rifling through the wads of cash in it, he asks, "how much were they?"
"ryo...you don't have to pay me for the nails. i wanted to get them!" you knew he had an bottomless pit of money which he loved splurging on you, but you still felt a twinge of guilt every time you spent his money.
"what kind of boyfriend would i be if i didn't pay for my girlfriend's nails?" he grins, pulling out a stack of tens, "is two hundred enough?"
your jaw goes slack, "baby, that's too much! i spent like half of that!"
he ignores you, shoving the money into your hands, closing your fist over it, "don't worry, you'll be paying me back in another way."
꒷꒦︶︶꒷ ₊˚꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶︶ ₊˚︶꒷꒦
"f-fuck...that's perfect, keep doing that," sukuna's sitting on the edge of his bed, the edge of his bottom lip caught in his teeth. a hand is firmly planted atop your head as yours work diligently on his cock, wet shlicks echoing throughout the dorm room.
it turns out the colour of your nails don't just match his hair and eyes, but also the pretty pink of his cock and the swollen, reddened tip. precum is leaking profusely, allowing your hand to glide up and down smoothly.
your fingers run delicately over the throbbing vein on the underside while your thumb rubs teasingly at the slit. you hear a sharp intake of breath from the man above you, prompting you to jerk his cock faster.
he lets out another groan as his hips jerk into your hand, "your hand looks so pretty on my dick, the per-perfect accessory, shit–"
"someone's needy today," you remark, tongue darting out to lick at the tip. the hand in your head tightens, ceasing your movement. you look up at him, confused – sukuna was never one to deny a blowjob.
"fuck, wait, not yet. i need to show this to the boys," he grapples for his phone, pointing the camera towards where your fingers were wrapped around his hard length. the flash is blinding, the camera capturing the way your fingertips and his dick are glistening from the slick sheen they're covered in. "heh, toji's gonna be so jealous."
you fought the urge to roll your eyes. he always had the unadulterated need to show off to his friends, especially when it came to their affairs in bed. you never understood it, but always went along with it anyway.
sukuna throws his phone behind him, so you take it as a sign to take him into your mouth, at least whatever you could fit into it. his dick was huge, pairing perfectly with his bulky biceps and thighs that you loved ogling at. some part of you knew that he kept up with his vigorous gym routine mainly because he could tell how much you liked them.
you bob your head along his length, your hands continuing to jerk off the base. he's salty, your tongue collecting every drip of precum. a trail of pink hairs tickle your fingers, wet with sweat and slick. his hips start jerking more erratically, fucking into the warm, welcoming heat of your mouth, forcing you to choke on him.
you're spluttering, your saliva leaving trails all over him. yet his force doesn't falter – he knows you can take a lot more than that.
"that's a good girl, taking my cock like a goddamn slut," his voice is raspy, going straight to your core. you're probably dripping by now, your panties clinging onto your wet folds.
he lets out a strangled noise, an actual whine when he makes eye contact with you through your fluttering eyelashes and the fingernails with him written all over it gripping him to death. you feel his cock twitch in your mouth, so you hollow your cheeks one last time before spurts of warm cum flood your throat.
his head is thrown back in ecstasy as you slowly pull your mouth off his softening dick. a visible bulge appears and disappears in your throat as you swallow it all in one go. sukuna reaches a thumb towards your lips to wipe off the dribble of cum leaking from the edge of your mouth.
he shoves that thumb into your mouth, "clean up your mess." you comply, tongue swirling the appendage before he pulls it out with a wet 'pop'.
"consider your payment complete," he pulls you up your feet and connects your lips in a messy, spit-filled kiss, moaning at the taste of him on your lips.
a soft ping interrupts you, sukuna's phone lighting up with a notification from his group chat with the other frat boys.
toji
yoo that's sick, think she can do her nails after me next? i think my cute pet worm would look great on her.
sukuna
fuck off, go find another girl.
and for the record, your worm is disgusting.
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