SYNOPSIS! when you spend your whole life running from a place, you don’t expect it to still feel like home. but a month off turns into a wrong turn, and suddenly your back to the town that knows you too well, the family you never quite fixed, and him. because some things don’t fade with distance. they linger. in old habits. in half-finished conversations. in the way he still looks at you like nothing ever changed. and maybe the worst part? you’re not sure you want it to.
CONTENT WARNING! country au. country reader. country reiner. ex-lovers to lovers. city reader. mommy issue. drinking problems. messy family. reader is a bit bratty. TBA.
STATUS! ongoing. posted 05.01.26
NOTE! came to me while reading a book about a country boy and a city girl. plus this is my hannah montana dream com true! deeply inspired by all the country movies i’ve seen. trying my hardest to remain neutral on the mc (obviously she’s a little oc cause it’s a fic) like no real descriptors. if i do, feel free to point out & i’ll change it! hope you love!!!
i love u, but i love me more i’ll follow you where the horizon meets the sun
01. chapter one
02. chapter two
03. chapter three
more to come!
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﹫solinadays 2025 all work belong to me! pls do not plagiarize, steal, modify, repost, or translate my work without permission
I don't really understand what happened to sixxels but man I'm gonna miss her stoner choso fanfic, now it will just exist in my memories every time I listen to Ivy 😞
Reiner is just sweetest man ever when someone he loves has come down with a cold. He'll bring you whatever you like, do whatever you want, and go to the ends of the earth to ensure your satisfaction.
Reiner had spent the last two days running you hot showers, feeding you, and making sure you were drinking enough water. He was glued to your side, only leaving if he truly had to.
Lying in bed, you rolled onto your side, inhaling sharply through your stuffed up nose. One nostril was blocked completely, the other running like crazy.
Not to mention the horrible cough you had. You silently hoped that whoever had gone around coughing in public and infected you would face the absolute worst for the rest of their lives.
The bedroom door opened, and Reiner walked in, holding a cup of tea and a bag of your favorite chips.
"How nutritious." You rolled onto your back, looking at Reiner with a weary smile as he sat the contents down on your nightstand.
Reiner scoffed. "I just want to make sure you're comfortable, even if it means junk food."
He leaned down to give you a peck on the forehead, but you held up a hand, refusing. "No, Rei. I don't want to get you sick."
"I won't get sick. Let me get in bed with you." He frowned; you couldn't believe Reiner looked so heartbroken over something so small.
You opened your mouth to protest, a dry cough coming out instead. That was Reiner's signal to hop into bed, pulling you into his warm chest, strong arms holding you close.
"You're going to make me overheat." You grumbled, yet you didn't move away. Reiner showered the top of your head with soft kisses, grip on you tightening.
"That won't happen, sweetheart. Just let me take care of you."
His big hand slowly moved up and down your back, soothing and unwavering. Reiner didn't move when you coughed or drooled on his shirt, even though he was in the perfect position to catch whatever virus you had.
Reiner smiled to himself when he saw you starting to drift off, eyes threatening to close and stay closed at any moment. He gave you another kiss, eventually falling asleep after you, not letting go of your body.
Isn't he just the best boyfriend ever?
A/N: Made this because I am currently sick and Reiner taking care of me has been on my mind all day
╰ moduloYuji x fem!reader 𖹭.ᐟ - 9.1k words (oneshot)
cw: smut w/ plot // no use of y/n // yuji is freaked out // lowk stalks you // touched starved & horny ash // cums in you // he talks you through it // yuji hasn't fucked in decades // set in canon universe (sorry if I butcher ts out of it) // steals/jerks off w/ ur panties // tbh he's just a perv // also this has angst and sadness // poor yuji can't catch a break
notes: ts took me forever to write actually, for some reason I didn't consider that making a oneshot w/ a plot would take me longer. Anyways ty guys so much for 300+ followers I would've made a post sooner, but I was in the TRENCHES. I really hope u guys like this one ALSO special thx to my girl @twdlvrr for giving me an excuse to write a long ass Yuji fic.
The club was overflowing with people—sweaty and suffocating as everyone crams together. The music booms through the small space as Yuji Itadori weaves through the crowd, already more than a few shots in, when he spots a breathtakingly beautiful woman he just has to talk to.
Nothing about this is normal, not when he only comes here to drink, maybe laugh a little in the rare moments he gets to simply exist. But wanting a woman? He hasn't thought about that in years—shit, maybe since he was a teenager. Now, the most he does is fuck his hand while half-asleep so his dick won't keep him awake, not even because he wants to.
When he finally makes it to you, his arms slip around your waist, head dipping so his lips brush close to your ear as he murmurs, "God, where've you been my whole life?"
You're so caught up in the music, completely lost in it, doing anything to forget about your shitty ex and your even shittier week, that you don't even notice him at first.
You turn your head, glancing up at him, your breath hitching as his eyes dip to yours.
"Sorry," he says, voice softer now. "Did I scare you?"
You turn around, your hands coming up to rest flat against his chest.
"No… you're just so–" God, between the alcohol and how insanely sexy he is, your brain is all sorts of fucked.
"So what, beautiful?" He teases, lifting your chin with a finger.
Heat rushes to your cheeks, burning as you realize what you were about to say.
"Oh– I…" You glance away for a second, but he brings your face back to look at him.
"Don't look away, please. I wanna see that pretty face of yours." Yuji murmurs, his thumb brushing softly along your cheek before grazing your bottom lip. "What's your name?"
You tell him, stumbling over your words, cheeks still flushed—and it's so embarrassing, the way he has you stuttering like a mess, half-surprised he hasn't walked away yet. "And you?"
"Yuji… Itadori." He trips over his words, like, despite the confident front, he hasn't actually done this in a while.
"Oh." You give him a small, shy smile. "So do you come here a lot?"
"A little, but not for women," he says with a shake of his head, laughing softly. "Honestly, I'm not even sure the last time I went on a date."
You tilt your head, curious. "Is dating… not really your thing?"
His eyes widen, realizing you probably think he's some prick, fucking any girl he finds attractive.
"No– not like that." He runs a hand nervously through his hair. "Fuck… I'm already messing this up, huh? It's just been a while… all of this. And you?"
Fuck, it's probably so obvious to you how inexperienced he is when he's a fumbling mess. But you're just so pretty, it has him losing it.
You shift your gaze. "....I just got out of a shitty relationship, actually."
Someone treating you like shit? It shouldn't make him mad—hell, he hardly knows you—but he already hates this guy for letting a pretty girl like you end up here.
"Well, he's the one who fucked up," He says, pulling you in closer, hands sliding just below your hips.
Your breath hitches as he presses closer, head dipping so his lips brush against yours. Are you insane? Did someone spike your drink? Because here you are, fresh out of a relationship, practically throwing yourself at some guy you just met at a bar, but fuck. The way he looks at you, the way his hands move over your body so carefully, so gentle as if he's scared to hurt you. It's intoxicating.
You close your eyes as his lips finally meet yours, slow and testing, before deepening the kiss. His tongue slips past your lips, tasting you, so sweet, so tempting. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer as his hands drift lower until he's palming your ass. Fuck, you feel so good, too good that he can't keep from pulling you closer, pressing his throbbing cock against you. His kisses turn desperate, like he's already losing himself in you, earning a soft moan from your lips.
Yuji forgot how good it felt to kiss someone. It's been decades since he's even thought about it. He lets himself, for once, get swept up in the moment. The feeling of your tongue against his, the way you press into him like you want him just as badly, making him frustratingly hard, already leaking pre from his flustered tip.
"Come home with me?" The words slip out in a low, drunken murmur against your lips.
You nod without hesitation, like the answer was already there. You'd do anything to have more of him, to feel more of him, and it doesn't help that his cock pressed against you has your mind already wandering.
He smiles down at you, biting his lip before leaning in, pulling you into another kiss.
────﹒♡﹒────
By the time the two of you make it to Yuji's place, he can't contain himself. He's picking you up, your legs wrapping around him as he carries you through his front door, kicking it shut behind him, taking you straight to his room. His lips stay on yours, guiding you blindly—but hell, he's done this in way more fucked up states, so getting you there is no problem.
He gets you to his bed, laying you down gently, and for a split second, you're not sure what to expect. What it means if he really hasn't been with anyone in a while, but you barely have time to dwell on it before he's on you again, shirtless, biceps flexing as he holds himself above you.
"Gonna make you feel s'good, baby," he mumbles against your lips, trailing down to your neck.
He was trying—really trying, to take it slow, to not rush things, even with how hard he is, his cock throbbing relentlessly in his pants as he shifts, rubbing against your thigh, desperate for any sort of relief.
And fuck, it turns you on, having you so soaked and needy, writhing beneath him as you roll your hips against him, wanting him so desperately inside you.
He breaks away for a second, breathing ragged, chests rising and falling together as you toss your shirt off the bed, breasts spilling out from your top. He doesn't even try to hide the way his gaze drops, drinking you in as he imagines rolling your perky little nipples under his thumb.
Fuck—that does it. He's already off the bed in seconds, pulling his pants off, and you follow, slipping out of your skirt, leaving you only in your lacy panties. His gaze darkens as he sweeps over you, pupils blown wide, taking in the sight of you laid out on his bed like that—all pretty and flushed, ready to be all fucked out under him.
Your eyes drop straight to the bulge in his boxers, and christ he's big. Almost too big. And you nearly faint when he pulls them down, thick veiny cock slapping against his abs, leaving your cunt clenching pathetically at the sight.
He takes his cock in his hand, stroking his length slowly as he watches you, legs spread for him, hair messy on his bed, looking at him through half-lidded eyes.
"God, you look so beautiful like this." His cock twitches as your hand slips into your panties, circling your clit, pulling soft moans from you as you try so hard to keep your eyes on him.
The room fills with messy sounds, Yuji's ragged breathing mixed with the sound of his spit slicked hand against his cock, and your own whiny sounds that spill out as you finger your little hole.
"Couldn't wait f'me, huh?" he rasps, his strokes turning impatient, pre leaking down his length at the sight of you.
Fuck, he can't take any more—climbing on the bed, your stomach fluttering as you watch him crawl between your legs, face stopping in front of your panties as he hooks his fingers under the lace, slipping them off. His eyes flick down to your pussy, your slit so wet it's glistening—he knew you'd be pretty, but this? It's a sick joke, really, how pretty your pussy is, a wet spot already forming on his sheets from his leaky tip as he presses his lips softly to your clit. A soft laugh escapes him as he pulls back slightly, the warmth of his breath alone has your skin burning, his eyes flicking up to yours.
"Sorry, I'm just a bit nervous," He murmurs, voice low and a little breathless. "Wanna make you feel s'good, beautiful. It's just been a bit…"
It shouldn't be so sexy, but Yuji being so worried about your pleasure, has your pussy throbbing, aching with need. And he doesn't even realize how stupidly attractive he is, how he could do anything, and you'd be putty in his hands. Just the thought alone of his tongue all over your cunt, has your body reacting on its own, your hips rolling up, as his nose brushes against your sensitive clit.
"You already feel s'good, Yuji–" you're cut off as his tongue drags along your clit, making you whine at the contact.
And the anticipation stirring in your stomach is almost unbearable as he flicks his eyes up to yours again, searching your face to know he's making you feel good, before going back down. His tongue flicks over your clit, gentle and slow, before lightly sucking, as you mewl out, hands tangling in his pink hair.
His face is pressed so close against your cunt, he can't breathe, but he doesn't care. Not when you're reacting like this, every movement having you moaning, legs wrapping around him so tight they're trembling, as you pull on his messy hair, bringing him impossibly closer.
He just lets you—lets you set the pace, rubbing your wet pussy all over his face, having his nose dripping with you. All of it drives him insane, his tongue slipping into your fluttering hole as he reaches down to stroke his throbbing cock, becoming a muffled mess against your drenched pussy.
"Fuck! That feels s'good," You whine out, "too good, Yuji… you're gonna make me cum."
That only makes him want it more, the feeling of you cumming on his tongue, your legs trembling around him as you let yourself go. He drags his tongue back up to your clit, slower this time, more deliberate as he licks and sucks your swollen bud, focusing on your pleasure.
His tongue feels so fucking good on your clit, having your walls clenching pathetically, until his tongue dips back in, feeling you pulse around him as you rub your cunt against his face, using his tongue to ride out your orgasm, screaming his name in a way that has him hoping it stays in his head for the rest of his long life.
He waits until you come down, pulling away, breathing uneven and lips parted as he looks at you, his face dripping from your pussy. And seconds later, he's kissing up your body, making his way to your lips while you struggle to catch your breath, still an absolute wreck from earlier. He starts rubbing his length against your slit, his cock gliding between your slippery folds as he pushes the tip in, making you gasp as he stuffs your pussy full, and he's not even completely in yet.
"Yuji, I don't think I can t-take all of you–" Your voice breaks as he drives his cock deeper, stretching your cunt with every stroke.
He lets out a strained moan, the filthy wet sounds filling the room as his balls slap against your cunt. "But she's taking me s'good," he brings a thumb to rub your clit, still sensitive from cumming.
You can't take it anymore, your hands going to his back, nails digging into his skin, leaving trails of red. "Mhnnn… Yuji!"
"Fuck–" It comes out rough, almost desperate as his hips snap forward, driving his cock so deep your eyes flutter shut, overwhelmed by pleasure as his tip kisses your puffy cervix.
His hand goes around your neck, squeezing enough to make your breath hitch, and—fuck, he almost cums. You're just so damn sexy, drool dripping from parted lips, as he holds you in place, watching your slutty face.
"Fuck, she's so tight," he grunts, fucking you as you silently cry out, his grip tightening around your throat.
He pulls out, releasing his grip around you as his hand drops to his pussy slicked cock, stroking slowly as your eyes flutter open, your cunt still pulsing at the lack of fullness.
"Turn over, beautiful. I wanna fuck that pretty pussy from the back, see how good she looks taking me from behind."
You do as he says, flipping over, your face pressing into the mattress—and even his sheets smell like him, god it's enough to overwhelm your senses, making you arch your back, putting your dripping cunt on display for him. He lines himself up behind you, his thumb brushing against your slit, lazily parting your folds with his thumb, before easily slipping inside.
"Stop teasing me, Yujiiii–" You whine, pressing back into him as he takes his thumb out, slamming his cock into your cunt.
Drool drips from your lips, your hands gripping the sheets, as messy sounds echo in the room, so filthy and wet from his hips snapping against your ass. He rams his cock deeper, brows knitting as his balls grow frustratingly tight, trying so hard not to cum in you.
"Mhnn… Fuck! Yuji, you feel s'good." Your whines come out muffled against the mattress as you press back against him, needing him closer, deeper. "Want more… want you to stretch her out, make her soo full."
That sends him over the edge. Hips bucking up, his thrusts turning desperate as he puts his hands on either side of you, struggling to hold himself up. His jaw tenses as he slams into your pussy a few more times before pulling out with a shaky breath, chest heaving as he shoots thick milky white ropes all over your pretty back.
You're a complete mess beneath him, pussy throbbing, whining in protest from the sudden absence.
"Shh, baby. He's already back between your legs, hands gripping your plush thighs as he licks your slit, "You think you can cum f'me?"
You press back, rubbing your pussy against his tongue as he finds your clit, working your sensitive bud until you're crying out.
"That's it, cum f'me, baby. Cum all over my tongue," He coaxes, sucking on your swollen clit, as your cunt pulses, cumming on his face.
"Yuji– Oh my god! Fuck–"
He's still sucking your clit, helping you through your orgasm as you scream out, and god he loves that sound so much. He's almost tempted to keep you there, having you screaming his name like that for hours.
Your legs give out, collapsing on the bed as the room spins around you. You're so dizzy from your night of drinking and cumming, that you're hardly aware of anything around you. You feel the bed shift before Yuji's back with a towel, carefully wiping his mess off your back. You sleepily roll over, and he leans down, pressing a kiss to your cheek, before reaching for your panties and slipping them back on. Then he pulls one of his shirts over your head, watching it as it swallows you whole, before pulling the sheets over you.
Yuji slides in next to you in only his boxers, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you close. His nose is buried in your neck, breathing you in like he's trying to memorize it. He stays like that for hours, until he finally feels himself drifting off—knowing that once he wakes up it'll all be gone, and as his eyes close he pulls you just a little tighter, not ready to let you go.
────﹒♡﹒────
You thought you left that morning without Yuji noticing, but he did. He noticed the exact moment you woke up, shifting slightly in bed, your eyes fluttering open only to realize you were in some stranger's bed, wearing only his shirt and your panties. Just like he instantly senses your quiet panic as you slip out of bed, quickly rushing around the room trying to gather your things, while trying so hard not to wake him.
His chest aches hearing you slip out of his room, even if he doesn't have the right to feel anything about it. Not when he's only a stranger to you, a hot rebound for a pretty girl with a shitty ex—but he's never wanted something, someone, so badly.
Which is how he finds himself rationalizing that it's not creepy as hell to make excuses just to go and see you—every waking second of the day—making sure that you're not in some sort of danger. Even after tirelessly fighting curses, he finds himself sneaking around, exhausted, just to make sure you're okay. Which sounds a hell of a lot better than the truth—that he can't get you out of his head. Your petty smile, your laugh, fuck everything about you is so perfect, he's damn near obsessing over you.
Christ, he really is a creep, a fucking weirdo.
Yuji rubs his face in his hands, wondering how the hell he managed to end up here. It's already been a couple of months since he started watching you like this. Tonight, he's watching you walk back home. It's late, and he just got back from beating the shit out of cursed spirits, his body drained and heavy, yet he still finds himself following you, needing to make sure you're safe.
And that's when he fucks up, because in his tired state, he carelessly lets himself be spotted by you.
At first, you almost do a double-take, brows furrowing as you slow, because there's no way that's him… right? But you really do think that's the hot guy you hooked up with from the club, but the odds of that are damn near impossible in a huge city like Tokyo. You squint harder, narrowing your eyes as you try to make out the face hidden under the hoodie, convincing yourself that you're only seeing things.
But even with his hood up, there's no mistake, it's him. His face, the way he stands, everything about him is burned into your memory, so ingrained in your mind you could pick him out of a crowded room by the way he touches you alone.
You don't know what comes over you as you start walking toward him, your pulse quickening with every step, adrenaline washing over you as you close the distance.
Meanwhile, Yuji's fighting the panic rising in his chest, his mind turning into a scattered mess, he can't think, can't make himself move—and god he needs to move, needs to move so badly, but he's frozen in place, choking—fuck, he can't even remember the last time he felt like this, nervous, terrified of what might happen when you finally reach him.
Move. Move, move, move. Fucking move!
But he doesn't; his feet stay stubbornly rooted in place, hands still shoved into his pockets as you finally stop in front of him.
"Hey–" you start, already blushing. "Sorry, is this weird? Just coming up to you like this– Shit, I'm sorry… I didn't even think about it, I just–"
"No, you're okay." He gives you a small smile, but it barely lingers, eyes flicking past your shoulder, scanning the street behind you, like he's looking for something.
"Are you okay?" You ask, starting to feel like an idiot for even walking up to him.
"Huh?" His attention snaps back to you, expression softening as he sees the worried look on your face. "I'm okay, just… tired."
Your palms grow sweaty, knowing how stupid you must look to him, when he's clearly not interested.
"Look, I'm sorry for coming up to you–"
His hand suddenly slips out of his pocket, fingers wrapping around your wrist, and you don't even have time to react before he's pulling you into a nearby alleyway.
Your back meets the cold brick as he presses closer to you. "Please," his voice is low and ragged, "Stop apologizing– fuck. Don't ever apologize for wanting to come up to me."
Your head spins, heart thudding against your chest as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours, needing to taste you again. His hands find your hips, pulling you flush against him, like he's been waiting to have you in his arms like this again.
Your fingers curl into his shirt before you pull away, breath shaky as you look up at him. "I just… don't want to be one of those girls…"
A shy smile tugs at your lips, a soft, nervous laugh slipping out, that has him thinking perverted thoughts that he definitely shouldn't be.
He rubs slow circles into your soft skin, his thumb dipping under your shirt. "You? One of those girls?" He shakes his head, giving you a boyish smile that has your knees buckling. "I'm not even sure what that means…" He laughs softly, running a hand through his hair. "But I do know, every little thing you do, drives me absolutely crazy. Makes me want you in ways I'm ashamed to admit."
Fuck… was that insane to say?
To you, he's only seen you once or twice. But to him? He's seen everything. Months of it. Of watching you move through your daily routine, your habits, the people you surround yourself with. God, he even knows where you fucking work, and he's so caught up in you, he's managed to learn everything you could possibly know about someone from only watching them. And it was supposed to stay that way. Careful, controlled, specifically crafted so that you wouldn't get too close. But now, it's all slipping, crashing down in one careless moment.
"Well, if it makes you feel less crazy, I've really missed you." You sheepishly admit, as you shift, feeling your panties damp from your dripping cunt.
He doesn't answer, lips finding yours again, slower this time. Deeper as he slips his tongue past your lips, tasting you, before pulling away just to trail kisses to your neck. He's sucking and nipping at your skin, leaving purple marks, as he presses his erection against you, wishing he were balls deep in your pretty pussy. A soft moan escapes your lips as his hand slides past your skirt, briefly hesitating before slipping into your panties, long fingers circling your clit.
"Hm.." He hums, dragging his finger down to your slit, feeling how wet you are for him. "Aw, does she need that badly? She's already so wet and ready."
He spreads your folds with two fingers, before slipping one in, leaving you whining, throwing your head over his shoulder. "Yuji, fuck!"
"Shh, baby." He pumps his finger in and out before adding another. "Someone might hear you."
You bite his shoulder, earning a groan from him as you stifle a moan. His cock strains against his pants, aching, balls so tight it has him whimpering as your teeth sink into his skin.
"God, she feels s'good around my fingers, so fucking wet f'me." He rasps, becoming a babbling mess as he presses against your leg, pre wetting through his pants.
"Only for you, Yuji." You whine out, as he curls his fingers, hitting that spongey spot that has you muffling cries against his hoodie.
"She's only mine, baby?" God, he wants you to say it, needs you to say it.
His cock twitches in anticipation as the words leave your lips, "She's only yours, Yuji!"
Your lips crash against his, muffling your moans in his mouth as his thumb brushes over your clit, "Fuck. How are you so irresistible, so fucking perfect?"
He can hardly keep his composure, watching you throw your head back over him, shuddering, body trembling as you cum around his fingers. Taking him deep as he fucks you through your orgasm, slipping his fingers out to taste you.
He moans as his fingers slip past his lips, and god you taste just like he remembered, so good and sweet. It was almost unbearable spending so many nights—too many nights—alone, thinking about his face buried in your pussy, having him a whimpering mess behind closed doors.
You lift your head up, drinking in how sexy he looks. His lips are swollen, wrapped around his fingers, his eyes trained on you as you watch him, lips parted, your heart pounding in your ears.
He pulls his digits out with a pop! leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips, making your head spin.
"Go on a date with me," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he pulls away. "Please."
Dammit, he knows he shouldn't be asking. Knowing that it goes against every rule, every boundary he's forced himself to keep. But he can't not have you, even when it's selfish, reckless, a fucking stupid idea—he still finds himself asking. A part of him really believing that—maybe—he can actually pull it off. That he'll be able to have you, while keeping a distance between you and his 'work'.
You smile up at him, "I thought you'd never ask."
He laughs softly at how adorable you look, your cheeks still flushed from cumming around his fingers.
"I'll pick you up," he says, pressing a gentle kiss to your rosy cheeks.
It's such a small gesture, but it has you smiling like an idiot.
And as you part ways, it never really hits you that you never told him where you live.
────﹒♡﹒────
The next night he's driving you out to a little trail that has a scenic view of the mountains, with little creeks scattered along the way. It's really late, nearly pitch black outside, and if you didn't trust him so much—for whatever insane reason—you wouldn't find yourself caught dead in a situation like this.
As you're walking along the dirt trail, your shoulder brushing his every now and then, you glance over at him, unable to stop yourself from asking.
"Do you normally take girls on dark walks, alone… at night?"
He blushes, the color creeping to his ears, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck as he lets out a nervous laugh. "Fuck… I messed up again, didn't I? I just thought it'd be better to talk."
It was partly true. He really did want time alone with you, to talk, to know all about the pretty girl who's been cumming all over him. Who has him wrapped so tightly around her finger, he's starting to lose parts of himself in her.
On the other hand? He knows you'll be safe here with him. Almost certain that there's no way something would attack the two of you out here, and if anything did happen, he would be there to protect you.
"It's okay, it's nice." You smile back, reassuring him, as you slip your hand into his.
His heart skips a beat, lacing his fingers with yours, glancing down, lingering at your intertwined hands for a moment—like a part of him doesn't fully believe this is real.
Making your way further up the trail, you eventually come across a creek, the water faintly glinting under the moonlight.
"You think we should stop here?" You ask, giving his hand a small tug. "I think it's really pretty."
He nods, smiling as he watches you, more focused on you than the creek, "It's perfect."
You pull him over to a cluster of rocks, sitting down, and he follows, sitting beside you, close enough that your shoulders touch.
"You know," he starts, voice quieter now as his eyes slip past the water. "It's nice. Just stopping for a second… getting to ignore all the bullshit for once."
You nod, understanding what he means. Until you met Yuji, life was constantly giving you shit to worry about. "It is nice."
He looks at you, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. "It's just been a while for me… all of this. I know I've said that, but–" he's smiling again, his free hand going to the back of his neck, because how could he possibly begin to explain it all? To tell you it's been literal decades since he's been with a woman.
"It's okay," you gently interrupt him, leaning up to kiss his cheek, stopping him completely. "We could be anywhere, go anywhere, and as long as you're there, it'd be perfect."
He melts at your words, at how easily you find the right things to say. How's that even possible? How can you be so perfect, so right for him, and still feel just out of reach.
"Can… I ask you something?" you ask after a moment, feeling a little shy.
"Yeah, of course. Anything."
"It's just–uh… your scar," you hesitate, knowing it's probably too personal to ask, but it's hard not to be curious when it's such a big scar. "How did you get it?"
That was the last thing he was expecting you to ask, which is ridiculous, because it's not like it's hidden. But after so long, it's just become a part of him now, that he forgets other people even notice.
"I–uh…" He stammers, racking his brain for an answer. "Got it from a fight… a long time ago."
"Oh…" you feel like an asshole now, seeing him fumble over his words, knowing you definitely asked too sensitive of a question. "I really shouldn't have asked."
"No, it's okay," he says, his hands cupping your face, pressing a quick kiss to your lips to further reassure you he means it. "I fight for a living and this," he points at his scar, "...I got it from a really bad accident, when I was fighting."
You feel like he's not telling you the full story, but you brush it off, figuring he'd tell you when he feels comfortable. "A fighter? Like professional… or?"
"Yeah," he nods, "like boxing."
"Really?" Your eyes light up, "maybe I could go to a match of yours sometime?"
He tenses, his chest tightening, hands sweaty, because he's not just some 'fighter' and there's no match, but he can't tell you that. Fuck, he doesn't want to make you feel like he's blowing you off, but what the hell else is he supposed to say?
"Actually uh…" he trails off, searching for anything to say, and it looks so bad, fuck he knows this looks horrible right now. "Maybe sometime… yeah."
You feel it, how weakly he agrees to you coming to a match, and it makes you so confused, thinking you were reading all the right signals, because everything he says and does points to him liking you. So much so, you find yourself brushing the entire thing off, figuring you're overthinking it.
"Do you like it?" You ask instead.
"Fighting?" he pauses.
Does he like it? It's such a simple question and somehow not simple at all, so complex in fact—and you have no idea.
"I think," he exhales quietly, gaze drifting for a second, "it's what fate chose for me."
"You believe in that, fate?"
He nods, tilting his head slightly at you. "Do you not?"
"I'm not really sure… I guess it depends what 'fate' would mean for m,." you answer softly, leaning into him, resting your head on his chest.
His big arms wrap around you, muscles flexing as he pulls you close, resting his head on yours, breathing in your sweet perfume.
"You know," he murmurs, voice quieter now as he melts into you. "Just because your ex was an ass doesn't mean your fate isn't a good one."
You crack a smile at that, "You trying to say something, Itadori?"
His lips twitch at your flirty tone, loving the way you say his name. "Someone's being all flirty now, hm?"
"Me?" you giggle, peeking up at him.
He laughs, unable to stop himself as he watches you. You're so adorable, your smile, your laugh, everything about you so infectious it leaves him wanting more.
"If there's one thing I do in this life," he says as the laughter dies down. "It's making you believe you're worth more than whatever you think in that head of yours." He tips your chin up, leaning down so his lips ghost over yours, whispering, "you're too damn pretty, too damn perfect, to be thinking like that."
You close the distance, pressing your lips to his, wanting him closer as you climb into his lap, straddling him, his hands gripping your thighs. "I want you, Yuji, so bad."
"I want you too, beautiful," he says, voice low and needy as he brings his lips back to yours. "But not here."
You whine, rolling your hips against his hard bulge, making him throb at the contact. "But Yuji, I need you."
"Trust me," he presses another kiss to your lips, "I need you too. Just not here."
Not when his guard is down, not when anything could happen while he's fucking you, because lord knows the only thing he'll be thinking of when he's buried in your pretty pussy will be watching you cum underneath him.
"Wanna come back to my place then?" You offer, wanting him so bad, you're throwing yourself at him. He probably thinks you're fucking pathetic with the way you're acting—but you couldn't be more wrong, because he's saying yes, wanting you just as much.
────﹒♡﹒────
Next thing you know, you're making out, fumbling for your keys, laughing breathlessly against each other's mouths as you manage to unlock your door, never fully breaking the kiss. The two of you stumble inside, any restraint gone, as you make your way to the shower, tugging at clothes, stripping away layers in desperate urgency until there's nothing left but your naked bodies.
You finally break apart as he reaches into the shower, turning the water on, his muscles flexing with every small movement, making your cunt ache. He holds a hand out testing the temp, while his other hand goes to his hard cock, stroking his length as he turns his head, eyes raking over your body, looking so fucking beautiful, standing there, face flushed, your body hot and sweaty from your walk.
His arms go around your waist, pulling you into him again, kissing you deeply, as his tongue slips into your mouth. You gasp as you feel his hands drop to your ass, turning red under his grip as he presses his throbbing cock against you.
You pull away, dropping to your knees as you take his thick, veiny cock in your hands, flicking your eyes up to him. Your lashes flutter as you bring his tip to your lips, his dick already leaking pre at the sight, and your tongue slips out, licking him up.
"Fuck–" He hisses, your tongue feeling so sensitive against his slit.
You wrap your lips around his tip, moaning around him as he jerks his hips up, making you gag. You're blushing now, your nose brushing against the hairs trailing down to his cock as you take him whole, his cock twitching in the back of your throat, so deep your eyes prick with tears. You reach down, fingers circling your clit as your body ignites on fire, wanting him so badly it hurts.
He holds your chin in his hand, almost swallowing your face as he slowly starts fucking your pretty mouth, your swollen pink lips bottoming out on his dick as he continues to fuck stiffled little moans from you.
"Fuck, baby," he coaxes, voice shaky from how good you're making him feel. "You're doing so good."
He's trying so hard to hold on to some sort of composure, but he hasn't had someone's lips wrapped around him in so long, fuck—and your lips are so soft, your mouth so warm and wet around his flustered cock, it makes it impossible.
His balls are tight, squeezing, as he fights the urge to cum in the back of your throat. He pulls his cock from your pretty lips with a pop! as his length slaps against his abs. His breathing ragged and uneven as he holds a hand out to you, helping you to your feet as you make your way into the walk-in shower.
He follows, pushing you up against the tiled wall, water slipping down the two of you as he presses a teasing kiss to your lips. "Sorry, I had to stop you, your lips felt too good, beautiful."
You blush, and he smiles against your lips, "I just wanted to be able to make you feel good."
His lips are back, crashing against yours, as he reaches for his cock, rubbing it between your slippery folds. He nips at your lip, teasing, before slipping his tongue in. Your hands fisting his wet hair as his hands go to your breasts, rubbing your perky nipples with his thumbs, having you mewling in his mouth.
"Does that feel good?" He murmurs, lips still ghosting over yours as you manage a nod, hardly able to think straight around him. "Aww, is my pretty girl feeling this good from me already?" He purrs, rolling your nipples between his fingers.
You're panting, head resting against his shoulder as your cunt flutters pathetically around nothing.
His cock twitches, a breathless laugh escaping his lips as he watches you become a filthy mess for him, "Yuji–"
"What is it, beautiful?" he rasps, lips brushing your ear. "I need you to use your words."
"I–it's too much…Y-yuji!"
He immediately stops teasing your nipples, rubbing his cock along your slit. "See, that wasn't so hard." He presses his tip between your folds, teasing your little hole, before pushing inside, grunting as he feels you squeeze around him.
He's a total babbling mess, his thrusts shaky as fucks your dripping cunt, unable to hold back after months of dreaming about this—it's embarrassing, really, how much of a mess you have him.
"Mhnn… Yuji, you're too big– can't take it all." You whine, still taking his cock like a good girl as your cunt drips down his length.
"But she's doing so good," he purrs, a hand slipping to your clit, pulling a shaky moan from you as your eyes roll back, overwhelmed by pleasure.
Then the feeling becomes too much, "Y-yuji– I'm cumming!" You're crying out, head tipped over his shoulder, cunt pulsing, fluttering around him as he fucks you through your orgasm.
His eyes are glossy, pupils blown wide, as he watches your slutty face, all fucked out on his cock. He groans, hips jerking up as his tip leaks milky white, filling you up so full it's coating his length with every thrust.
He pulls out, shoulders shaking as he catches his breath. "S-sorry, I didn't mean to cum in you… shit." His voice breaks when he realizes how bad he fucked up—god, he didn't even mean to cum in you, your pussy just felt so good and warm, he couldn't stop himself.
"It's okay," you lift your head, looking at him through heavy-lidded eyes, your cheeks still flushed. "I'm on the pill."
He lets out a quiet sigh of relief, shoulders relaxing. "Want me to help you shower, beautiful?"
You bite back a smile. He's so thoughtful, always thinking about you. "You wouldn't mind?"
He tilts his head, "Why would I?"
"I don't know…" You trail off, and he laughs softly at how adorable you are, gently turning you around, your back facing him.
His hands move carefully, fingers massaging your scalp as he works the shampoo through your hair—and holy shit, it feels amazing. A soft moan slips from your lips as his fingers continue to work their magic.
"Shh," now he's the one biting back a smile, pressing his lips to your ear, his voice dropping teasingly low. "If you keep making sounds like that, I'll have to fuck you again. And you're already so tired, beautiful."
You flush deeper, the color reaching your ears. "Yuji!"
"What?" He grins, feigning innocence. "It's true. You sound too pretty like that."
Your stomach flutters as he brings the shower head down, rinsing your hair. The water's warm and soothing, his hand running through your hair as he works the rest of the soap out.
"I really like taking care of you like this," he admits, softly pressing his lips to your shoulder as he lathers the washcloth, moving it gently over your body.
You weren't used to being touched like this, so gentle and careful. All your previous relationships never bothered to factor you in, always taking advantage of your kindness and never doing anything in return to show they care.
"I like it too," You admit too, your voice soft and quiet.
He smiles at your admission, rubbing the washcloth over himself, before gently turning you around. "Ready to get out?" he asks, cupping your face in his hands.
"Yes, please." You let out a small yawn, "I'm so tired, I can barely keep my eyes open."
He steps out, reaching for a towel, wrapping it around you gently, before taking another and securing it around his waist.
"You need help getting dressed?"
Is this how men are supposed to treat you in a relationship?
"You… would?"
"You have to stop asking that," he pulls you in by your waist, "I'd do anything for you."
"I'm just not used to it…" You glance away, sheepishly admitting, "I've never had someone treat me like this… like you do."
"That's because they didn't realize what they had was so special," he leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips. Hell, he'd kiss you a thousand more times if it'd make you believe him.
"You're just saying that, because you're always saying nice things." You pout.
"I wish it was that simple," His thumbs brush over your hips, "go get in bed and I'll get your stuff."
You sleepily make your way to the bed as he stumbles around your house in the dark, gathering your scattered clothes along with his own. He somehow manages to find your hamper, dropping your clothes inside, before fumbling through your drawers for something comfortable. When he comes back, he helps you into a shirt—wishing it was one of his instead—and slips on one of your favorite pairs of panties.
He pulls his boxers on after, sliding into bed next to you, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest. He nuzzles into your neck, loving how you smell. How your entire house smells like you, your room, your sheets—hell, he's even starting to smell like you.
"Is there a reason you don't date…?" You mumble, half asleep.
"Hm?" He hums, brushing a damp strand of hair away from your face. "Just been too busy, that's all."
A pause lingers between you.
"Are you going to be too busy for me?"
His arms tighten around you, his voice softer. "I'll never be too busy for you." He looks down at you, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watches you fall asleep. "It'd be impossible when my whole world's already falling into place around you."
────﹒♡﹒────
The next few weeks are spent with Yuji—always somewhere at night with hardly anyone else to be seen. It's not that it's bad. In fact, every date with him was perfect, but you can't shake the gnawing feeling that something's off.
You tried to brush it off, desperately wanting to shove away the thought that he could be hiding something, because everything else about him is perfect. Which makes it harder when all the small inconsistencies start adding up, too many that you can't bring yourself to ignore them any longer.
You're walking through Tokyo at night, streets quieter than usual, only a few people scattered around, all minding their own business. Yuji walks beside you with his hoodie up, pulled low, like he's trying not to be seen.
Your chest tightens. Is it really that embarrassing being seen with you?
"...Why do you only want to see me at night?"
He stills, and your heart drops.
"It's not like anything you're thinking," he says quickly.
It still doesn't make sense. If anything, it makes it worse, the pit in your stomach twisting, "Not like anything I'm thinking? What the hell does that even mean?"
"Like–" fuck, he can't get a single word out, panic rising in his throat as he feels you starting to pull away. "I'm trying so hard to explain… I just–"
"No." You pull away from him, shaking your head as you back up. "I'm not fucking doing this again."
"Please– don't. I can explain–"
"No, you can't 'explain'," you cut in, voice breaking. "You just tried, and it didn't even make sense. Is there anything else? Are you fucking someone else, is that it?"
A breathless, disbelieving laugh slips out of you, probably looking insane to the few people still out.
"Are you even a boxer, or was that just bullshit too?"
His breathing is ragged, chest heaving, struggling to catch his breath as his eyes search over you frantically, like he's trying to find the exact words that will make you stay.
And when he sees the tears forming in your eyes, it absolutely breaks him. "No, but if you—"
That one word is all it takes to confirm all your worst fears, that he's been lying to you this entire time. All while fucking you in your bed, sleeping in your bed. Playing you like a fucking idiot, and you let him, just like you let every other sleaze before Yuji.
"You're a fucking liar," you say, voice trembling as everything spills over, fed up with all the lies. Fed up with letting pricks like him walk all over you. "Honestly, it's my fault, because for some stupid fucking reason, I let myself think you were different."
He takes a step forward, "Just let me explain, please," he pleads, eyes glassy as tears slip down his cheeks. "Please, just– if you'd come home with me–"
"Come home with you!?" You're almost hysterical when the tears spill over. "Why? That way, you can lie to me again, so I'll sleep with you?"
That hits him harder than any blow ever has, your words cutting deep as he takes it all, knowing he deserves it, that he should've never lied to you in the first place.
"You were never that for me."
"Yeah?" You quickly wipe your tears with your arm, laughing bitterly. "What else?"
"Please, stop…" the words come out in broken sobs—he can't stand this, can't stand the hurt look he put on your face. "I need you."
"You know what?" You can't even look at him anymore, "I'll make it easy for you," you swallow hard. "I'll go. Since you can't stop lying to me for a single fucking second. Can't even give me that little bit of decency after stringing me along."
You turn, and his hand catches your wrist, "I–"
You jerk your hand away, "It's over, Yuji."
────﹒♡﹒────
Yuji felt like such a perverted loser, so pathetic jerking off with the panties he snuck from your house. The lacey fabric gripped tight around his cock, whimpering as he fucks his fist.
God, it was so fucking wrong—so fucked up for him to be getting off to you when you hate him, wanting absolutely nothing to do with him. And still, he can't move on. Still stuck on you, too afraid to even wash his sheets, worried he might lose the last lingering trace of you.
His grip around his cock tightens, hips bucking as milky white leaks out, coating his hands, ruining your pretty lacy panties. He brings the fabric to his nose—his eyes rolling back when he smells you, his cock twitching against his abs.
And when he's finally coming down, it hits him all at once. The reality that he'll never have you like that again. The one bit of happiness in his life, and he went and fucked it up, driving you away. And the worst part is knowing he hurt you. But maybe it's better this way? Without him, you won't get hurt anymore.
But christ, he'd be lying if he said he didn't miss you. Didn't want you in the most selfish ways. To the point he couldn't focus on anything, taking cheap blows in fights, finding it hard to concentrate on anything other than you.
Not to mention how utterly pathetic it is when he always ends up in the same place—just close enough to your house to go unnoticed as he stands there, making sure you're okay. And it breaks him the first time he sees it, you falling apart in your friend's arms, struggling to hold it together over the pain he caused. He thought he did everything in his power to keep you safe, but in the end, he was the one to hurt you.
Tonight, he's at your place again, closer than normal, finding himself standing at your doorstep. His hand briefly lingers in the air for a moment as he takes a sharp inhale, before knocking on the door. It's stupid, really, and he knows it. But he still finds himself hoping against all logic and reason that you'll open it—that you'll just hear him out for a second. Anything, as long as you don't walk away from this believing you meant nothing to him.
The door opens, your eyes widening as you see him, immediately trying to shut the door in his face. He stops it, palms flat against the other side, foot wedged between the crack, keeping it open. He knows how crazy he looks, and he hopes he's not scaring you, but fuck if you'd just listen.
"Yuji, quit." You say, straining against the door, desperately trying to close the gap.
He doesn't budge, not even breaking a sweat as he holds the door in place. "Please," he says, voice already breaking. "Just give me a few minutes."
"It's over." You're shaking your head, tears welling in your eyes—why is he doing this to you? Coming into your life after you finally learn how to breathe without him, starting to move on with your life.
And here he is again, undoing all of it. Breaking your heart all over again, like every time he shows up, you're right back where you started.
Your name slips out of him in a choked sob. "Please, just let me in." Tears stream down his face as he pleads with you. "I'm not leaving until you listen."
You open the door at that, "are you kidding me!?"
He steps inside anyway, even as you shoot daggers at him with your tear streaked face, fuming.
"I know I'm an asshole," he says quickly, wiping his face on his arm. "I know I'm confusing, infuriating—"
"An idiot."
"Yeah," he lets out a shaky breath, "an idiot. It's all my fault, too, for thinking I could protect you without hurting you in the process."
"Protect me? From what?" Your voice cracks, "Yuji, you ruined me."
"Don't say that," his voice is barely above a whisper, eyes puffy and red as the tears continue to pour. "Fuck…"
You step back further into your house, letting him in. Not able to stand looking at him like this, barely holding himself together, like he's a second away from falling completely apart in front of you.
"I'm not a boxer," he blurts out.
"I know," you say flatly, the ache in your chest knotting at the reminder.
"And I wanted to tell you," he continues, running a hand through his hair, racking his brain for the simplest way to put it, "it's going to sound insane, but…" He braces himself as the words leave his lips, "I'm actually a Jujutsu Sorcerer."
You're at a loss for words as you blink at him, not believing a single word coming out of his mouth. "...a what? Are you fucking with me right now?"
He shakes his head, "I promise I'm not." he knows how ridiculous this all sounds, but you deserve the truth. "There's these things called cursed spirits, that normal people can't see. But I can… and I have to fight them, it's actually how I got the scar."
You look at him with disbelief written all over your face. "There's no way you actually expect me to believe that."
"I don't," He blinks away the tears pricking his eyes, "But I was scared, you'd get roped into my shit. That I'd get you hurt, it's why I lied. Thinking, if I just kept you hidden, nothing bad would happen to you." His voice cracks again, "I was only trying to protect you because… I love you."
You still, your voice barely above a whisper. "Love me?"
His eyes widen as the realization hits him, but fuck, he means every bit of it. He loves you so much it hurts, so much that admitting it has another stream of tears falling, because how is he going to move on with his life, once you're gone.
"More than anything," he admits, reaching for your hand, taking it loosely in his. "I wasn't just saying things when I said my life was falling into place around you."
He steps closer now, slow and careful like he's afraid that if he moves too fast, he might scare you.
"You're not messing with me?" you ask, fluttering your lashes up at him as he closes the distance.
"No, baby." He says, cupping your face in his hands, "I promise."
Your eyes search his, knowing, as crazy as it sounds, that you believe him.
"I know it sounds insane," he admits, "and none of it makes any sense right now. But I can explain it all with time. Show you everything you need and more, no more hiding."
Tears prick your eyes, "Yeah?"
"Yeah," he nods, pressing his lips to yours. "I'll never hide you again, never make you feel like you're worthless. Fuck I love you so much."
You melt, your body molding perfectly into him, as your lips crash against his, and for once, everything in your life is falling into place. And for a moment it feels like if fate really does exist, this one wouldn't be so bad.
divider creds: @/anitalenia @/dividers-are-us @/saradika-graphics & fanart by @/lloeydd
As always thank you for any reblogs, comments, and likes!! <33
Summary: New York, 1960s. You're a jazz bar singer who's dedicated your lonely life to music. Jean Kirstein is a weary businessman who finds meaning in your music.
Tags: Jean Kirstein is inspired by Donald Draper, madmen refernces, cunnilingus, creampie, p in v, Jean kirstein is half french, making out in a cab, making out, Jean is desperate lowkey, a tons of praising, pet names, my phone is lagging
MDNI
Standing on the stage of "Rattazzi" the luxurious bar, for probably the hundredth time, you feel a multitude of eyes on you. Your dark blue dress with a knee-high slit and your graceful, smooth locks shimmer under the warm spotlight.
Like a siren, you capture the attention of every person in the room. Your voice is captivating, making their hearts flutter. The musicians behind you play soft jazz, complemented by the bliss of your voice.
Everyone's eyes are fixed on you. Admiration is written on each of their faces. You glance at each one, sometimes spotting those you've seen before at your performances. Your gaze sweeps across the tables, and each time you approach a certain spot, your heart begins to flutter and change tempo to a frantic speed.
As always, you find him in his usual place. You don't rush to meet his gaze right away, scanning the rest of the bar first, keeping the tantalizing intrigue to yourself, giving yourself and him time.
He always sits in the same place, no further, no closer. He always drinks the same scotch. He always watches the same singer - you - and disappears until the next day of your performance. He did the same thing now.
It's been a tough day. Your manager is pressuring you, signing contracts on your behalf with people you don't want to deal with. You're a beautiful young woman in a world of wild men. You're surviving, forced to play by their rules. Which is why you still haven't been able to find the love of your life.
Everyone who knows you sees you as a piece of meat, a toy. They don't take you seriously. In a world where can't give anyone your all, you gave your all to the stage.
You needed to catch your breath, to take your mind off those clinging eyes. So, after leaving "Rattazzi", you settled into the "P.J. Clarke's", not bothering to change into your stage attire.
Ordering a whiskey and soda, you down the glass, feeling the liquid pleasantly burn your throat. Without giving yourself time to catch your breath, you repeated the order. The bartender peered at your expression with interest, but politely spared you any comments or uninvited dialogue.
When a soda appeared in front of you instead of the third whiskey, you looked questioningly at the bartender. At that moment, he handed you a note.
"Spare yourself the morning headache." J.
The bartender pointed to a man sitting at one of the tables. You cautiously turned around, and your heart skipped a beat. It was him. Your quiet listener, with whom you'd never exchanged words before, and you didn't need to. Silent glances were enough.
He'd already bought you a drink at the bar once, but being tired and overworked, you couldn't think of a better option than to leave. Although, of course, the main reason was that you were afraid to trust a man. In a world where you'd only ever had your heart broken, you didn't want to be alone again, picking it up piece by piece.
But he won't let you sleep peacefully. Showing up at your performances, he's become so ingrained in your head that, without even realizing it, he's become a frequent guest in your dreams.
You want to approach him, to say something. At least to thank him. But you're afraid. However, the next moment, you had to thank heaven for him standing up and walking over to the bar, sitting at the next stool.
"Forgive me if that was impudent of me." He took off his hat, placing it on the counter.
'So that's what his voice sounds like.' You think.
"Oh, actually I wanted to thank you." You spoke, clutching the glass in your hands.
For some reason, you thought he was nervous too. As if he'd been trying to muster up his courage the whole time he'd been sitting alone at the table.
"No need to thank me, it's nothing."
His voice was soft and velvety. It combined weariness, calm, and a certain comfort. Even as a singer yourself, you wanted to listen to it.
"Just tell me if there's anything else I can do for you. Everyone has tough days. It's important not to be alone."
Damn, he speaks so beautifully. Even the simplest words from his lips sound like poetry. He's so captivating that you forget to answer him.
"Forgive me if I'm intruding. I have no intention of disturbing your peace." He barely reached for his hat, but your voice stopped him.
"You're not disturbing me at all. Honestly, you've brought me the peace. Otherwise, I'd have gotten drunk. Thank you." You said softly, sipping your soda.
"I'm glad I helped in some way. However, one "no" from you and I'll be gone; I don't want to disturb you." A brief silence. "It must be hard to endure so many glances in an evening?"
It was as if he read you like an open book. As if he'd come not to a performance, but to a conversation with you, where, through your glances, he understood absolutely everything.
"You could say that. But don't let it bother you. As you said, everyone has tough days." You drained your glass, still finding it difficult to look him in the eye. The scent of his perfume wafted through your eyes, clouding your mind like alcohol.
"I also said it's important not to be alone."
You looked up at him, seeing a slight smile on his face, and couldn't help but smile too. Even sitting there, it was clear he was a very tall man. He was very handsome in general. His ash-brown hair was perfectly combed, his eyebrows were thin, and his jawline was sharper than a knife. His sharp eyes could pierce you, but they looked at you cautiously. A dark circles were visible beneath them. He must have worked hard.
Without bothering you with questions, he put on his hat and rose from the table. Yes, he really was very tall.
"Would you like to take a walk?" He gallantly extended his hand, helping you up from the bar.
New York at night was mesmerizing, the streetlights shimmering with colors. It was especially pleasant to have such a man and his scent nearby. You walked side by side, only your shoulders brushing, and at first, you were both silent.
"Tell me about yourself, J." You finally broke the silence, and your question made him smile.
"Jean Kirstein. I work in advertising."
"Advertising? What exactly do you do?"
"I develop advertising concepts with my team, attend client meetings at bars, and go on business trips. Nothing special."
"That sounds interesting. So, you...take clients to the bar where I perform, too?" For some reason, you felt sad.
"No, no. I always go to your perfomances alone. Those disgusting rich people will never understand the art of your music. I'd hate to share such beauty with them."
A sigh of relief, but your heart began to beat faster.
'How beautifully he speaks.'
"So you understand it? The art of my music?"
"I'd like to believe so. At the very least, I interpret it to suit my own life."
"That's exactly how I want my music to be received by listeners. As for me, there's no need to adapt to my perception if I'm a singer. After all, everyone lives their lives differently." You reason, walking side by side with him.
"Then I'm doing everything right." He looked down at his feet and, sighing, continued. "You know, I should thank you for your music. When I was feeling down, I'd come to "Rattazzi" and listen to you. And I'd truly forget what had previously driven me crazy. You saved me. Thank you for that."
"Don't thank me. I'm doing what I love. What saves you saves me."
"Then we're even." He smiled, looking in your direction.
"I guess so." You met his gaze.
A cool wind cut through your skin, causing you to involuntarily press closer to Jean, searching for even the slightest source of warmth. Naturally, he noticed it immediately. Without hesitation, he pulled off his coat, and it settled on your shoulders.
"Sorry I didn't do this sooner. I should have known you'd be cold in a dress."
"Please don't apologize. It was my fault for going out like that. Thank you so much." You hugged the jacket to yourself, warming yourself. The scent of his expensive perfume now enveloped your body. "Where are we even going?"
"Honestly, I forgot myself while talking to you. We're just walking straight ahead." He cleared his throat. "But you seem cold outside?"
"A little, but it's okay." You lie, but only to prolong the time with him.
"I'd invite you over, but that would sound like I'm trying to lure you into bed." He awkwardly turned away.
"No, it's fine. I wouldn't thinm that"
"Then I'll catch a cab."
He hailed a passing taxi and opened the door for you, then climbed in next. The car headed towards Jean's address.
You sit so close, and even though the car is warmer than outside, you snuggle into him again. His cheek brushes the top of your head; it seems he's been waiting for this.
You lift your head and see that his gaze is fixed on you. He's so close that you can hear his even, slightly ragged breathing. It's as if Jean is afraid to scare you off by making the first move. So you decide to take it yourself.
You carefully move your face closer to his, and see him doing the same. Then you decide to close your eyes, surrendering to what's about to happen. Your lips finally touch in a tender, warm kiss. But after a few seconds, you break the kiss, studying each other's reactions. Seeing the green light in your eyes, he continues, connecting again in a more passionate kiss. He gently placed his hand on your cheek, tracing it with his thumb. Your hand clutched his shoulder, as if you were about to collapse.
The car stopped. Jean generously paid for the ride and, taking your hand, led you into a large apartment complex.
The elevator doors closed behind you, he quickly pressed the button for the 99th floor, and without wasting a second, he pressed you against the elevator wall, causing you to gasp in surprise.
"Sorry, did I hurt you?" He pressed his forehead to yours.
"No, it's okay."
And you were kissing each other again, as if this was your life's purpose. One of Jean's hands held the elevator wall, while the other found its place on your waist, perfectly accentuated by the sparkly dress.
"You're so beautiful." His lips hungrily moved from yours to your cheeks, to your forehead, to your chin. From the way he sighed, you could tell he'd been craving this for a long time.
"Fuck, you're so beautiful, my god." He continued to whisper between kisses. However, he was interrupted by the ding of the elevator stopping.
He led you again, holding your hand. Quickly opening the door to his apartment, he let you in and slammed it behind him.
You looked around and saw a luxurious penthouse with expensive wooden furniture. A large TV box stood in the living room, leaving no doubt about Jean's wealth. The interior, in shades of brown, burgundy, and gold, gave the apartment a rich feel. Jean definitely had taste. The room smelled like a bar: of alcohol and perfume. Jean himself smelled almost exactly like it.
You took off your jacket and wanted to hang it up somewhere, but Jean picked it up and tossed it on the floor. He didn't care about it right now.
He led you into the bedroom by the waist, and you stood right over his large, high king-size bed. However, he took his time.
"Tell me you want this. I won't dare touch you without your permission." He whispered in your ear, leaving a trail of lips along the way.
"I really want this, Jean. I need you." Your hand moved to the back of his head, your fingers slowly combing through his hair, causing him to close his eyes.
"Good. Let me take off your dress."
You turned around, giving him access to the zipper on your dress. The clasp creaked, and you felt your breathing ease. Jean carefully pulled the dress off your shoulders, immediately covering them with hot kisses. The dress slid down your body, revealing you in just your underwear.
"You're gorgeous."
However, he noticed the blush rising on your cheeks and the way you involuntarily tried to cover your body with your hand.
"Are you embarrassed? Look at yourself, you have a perfect body. No need to hide yourself." He ran his hand over your skin, causing goosebumps to rise in his wake. "I can't take my eyes off you."
You listened silently to his compliments, wondering when you'd last heard anything like that about yourself, other than nasty comments from drunks.
You reached for his shirt, unbuttoning the buttons with trembling fingers. Then you pulled his undershirt off, revealing his toned body. Jean clearly worked out regularly. He wasn't a super-muscled guy or, on the contrary, a skeleton. This was the body you'd always considered ideal in a man. The body you'd fantasized about on lonely nights.
Your hand slid over his chest, his sculpted abs. Without giving you much time to admire him, he gently cupped your chin and captured your lips again. Jean took his time, but the kiss was so passionate, like thousands of flames mingling into a single, searing bonfire. You'd forgotten that just half an hour ago you'd been freezing on the streets of New York. Now you see this city from a large window 99 stories up, and you feel warm. Hot, even.
He slowly lays you down on the bed and hovers over you, never breaking the kiss. His tongue glides between your lips, and you part them, inviting him in. Now his and your tongues are intertwined in a single vine, moving in unison. He lets out a low sigh, matching dozens of yours.
Your fingers run through his hair, tangling the strands you'd tousled in the car. He begins kissing your neck, leaving hot, wet trails and a wave of goosebumps in his wake. You tilt your head back, giving him more access, and he begins to cover every accessible area of your skin with his warmth. Moaning under his touch, you can only lie there and feel your body being worshiped. However, Jean doesn't demand anything else.
After kissing your entire neck, he moved lower, sliding his tongue along your collarbones. Then lower still, reaching the edge of your bra.
"Can I take it off? Please." His light brown eyes were filled with animalistic need; it all brought him a wave of pleasure.
"Y-yes, of course."
He lifted you from underneath and, with a deft flick of his hand, unclasped your bra, pulling it off with excruciating slowness.
"So beautiful. Damn, I've never seen a woman more beautiful than you." His lips were on you again, first in the valley between your breasts, then on one hardened nipple, while his fingers played with the other. All of this created an incredible feeling of intoxication, causing your toes to curl.
Without lingering in one place for too long, he moved even lower. Jean's tongue deftly glided over the curves of your body. He kisses your stomach, reaching the hem of your panties. Instead of taking them off, he slowly spreads your legs, positioning himself between them. Just short of touching you, he returns that pleading look in his eyes, as if he desperately needs to touch you there. "May I..?"
"Yes, please.."
He slowly runs his middle finger over the now-wet fabric. You both sighed simultaneously: you from the pleasure of feeling it, he from the pleasure of seeing it and being the cause.
After a couple of slow strokes, he moves the fabric aside, finally revealing the sweetest part. Your folds have long been wet, glistening under the light of his chandelier. His eyes play with both lust and tenderness, and it's unclear whether he balances effortlessly between them or is actually struggling between the two.
His finger is there again, but without the interference of the fabric, and it makes you squirm from the warmth of his fingers.
"Already so wet for me? I barely touched you." He smiled, continuing to move his fingers.
Then he lowers his face to your cunt, and you completely lose your composure as his tongue touches your swollen folds. His name leaves your lips with such need that goosebumps run through him. He knows he's damn hard, but first, he wants to focus on your pleasure.
Jean's tongue swirls with such precision and speed that it creates a perfect rhythm. You feel your head go dizzy, long since carried away by the wave of pleasure. Your fingers grip the sheets, and he intertwines the fingers of his other hand with his, supporting you.
"Fuck, so sweet. You're so sweet." He eats you out like he hasn't eaten in hundreds of days, and now it's time to feast. The room fills with the slurping of his tongue against your cunt and your moans.
As if you weren't dizzy enough, he decided to add his fingers, carefully entering you with one. Then, slowly, the second one entered you. His long fingers reached spots you couldn't reach on your own.
He slowly pulled them out and then back in, playing with your clit with his tongue. When you got used to his fingers inside you, he began to spread them, stretching you for more. Your back arched and your hips moved toward him, but he held you back by hip with his hand, preventing you from moving.
"Can you stay still for me, ma belle? Gotta stretch you open, okay?" He spoke to you tenderly, continuing to pleasure you with his tongue and fingers.
"Of course, sorry. It's just...fuck, it feels so good." You responded, breathing heavily, trying for him.
"I know. I know, pretty. You'll feel even better soon, ma jolie."
"Are you French?" Your question, asked between moans, caught him off guard.
"Only a half." He smiled, continuing to pleasure you, spreading his fingers inside you.
You felt especially good when he touched that sensitive spot. And now, when he does it again, you feel a volcano awaken inside you. He noticed how your legs trembled and your body tensed, so he sped up the movements of his tongue and fingers. As the "volcano" erupted, you forgot everything except his name, which you clung to so desperately.
"Jean! Jean!" He uttered, accompanied by moans and ragged breaths.
"You're doing so good, cum for me, beautiful." He praised you as your hole squeezed his fingers.
When the wave of orgasm passed, he lifted himself up, and you noticed how his lips and chin glistened, drenched in your arousal. But Jean seemed only too happy about it.
He hovered over you and kissed you, letting you taste your own arousal. Kissing and lightly nibbling your lips, he involuntarily began to rub his bulge against your thighs.
"Can we continue? Or are you tired?" He asked in a whisper, silently praying that you wanted more.
"Yes, of course. I need you inside me, Jean." You drawled, sending shivers down his spine.
"Fuck, Angel. I feel like a madman with you."
He wastes no time unbuckling his belt, then the fly of his perfectly pressed pants. Then he pulls down his boxers. Now you see how big he is. Not ridiculously big, but impressive.
Jean reached for the nightstand for a condom, but you stopped him.
"That's not necessary, I'm on the pill."
"Are you sure?"
Your nod was enough. He's above you again, his hand to your mouth. You immediately understand for what, and spit into it.
"Good girl." He lubes up his cock and spreads your legs. "Spread those pretty legs wider for me, dear."
You do as he says with obvious impatience. And your body language doesn't go unnoticed.
"So eager for me, aren't you?" He smirked lightly, brushing the head of his cock, leaking pre-cum, against your entrance.
"Jean, please..." You whine with anticipation.
"Please what, ma belle? Tell me what you need." He gently stroked your hair, feigning confusion.
"Please put it inside me." If only you knew how much he wanted it, but held back to please you before.
"You want it that much, hmm? Who am I to deny you?" He slowly moved his head along your entrance again. "Now breathe."
And you felt a pleasant stretch inside. His hard cock entered you slowly, causing your toes to curl and your head to tilt back. Jean bowed his head, exhaling heavily. "Fuck, so tight even after all that stretching."
"Jean!" You moaned, holding onto his broad, strong back.
"I know, honey, I know." He tried to soothe you, even though he himself was on the verge of losing his mind.
"Fuck...I can't..." Your eyes sparkled with the pleasure that enveloped you completely. But Jean was there, looking at your cheek and kissing your face relentlessly.
"Yes, you can. See how good you're taking me already?" He repeated the praise over and over, mixing english and french. It seemed he wasn't even aware of the pace.
After a moment, he began to move inside you. Back and forth. Your voices and sighs blended into a single symphony of meaningless words.
"You sound even more beautiful in bed than on stage. Please keep saying my name, angel." He pleaded with you with the most desperate look on his face. He sped up inside you. Back and forth. You're gasping for air, scratching his back, and he keeps kissing your face like you can slip out of his hands.
When it became too much for him, he buried his face in the crook of your neck. "How are you feeling, beautiful? Is it enough?"
Oh.
He fucks you like he's given you a second wind, and he dares to ask if it's enough?
"Jean...you're so good...oh my god." Your voice cracks, trying to say something coherent, but you feel too dizzy to care.
You thought he was as deep inside you as possible, when he manages to go even deeper, reaching a sensitive spot. You feel your vision blur as tears start to form again. It doesn't hurt, no. He would never allow himself to do that. You cry from how pleasantly Jean Kirstein moves inside you.
"Fuuuuck, ma belle." He himself is barely holding on, though. Seeing the tears in your eyes, he began to collect them with his lips, continuing to cover your face with kisses. The taste of your fluid on his tongue mingled with the taste of your tears.
Still moving inside you, he began to massage your clit with his fingers, driving you completely crazy.
"Jeaaaan...'m so close..."
"Me too, honey. We're gonna cum together, yeah?" His breathing became even more ragged, his moans grew louder.
A few more measured, sweet thrusts, and you both tensed, looking into each other's eyes.
And it came. The most pleasant and gracious orgasm of your life. You both felt transported to paradise for a while. It was impossible to feel such tempting pleasure in the real world.
You felt him fill you with his seed. Warmth spread throughout your body as you are recovering from the wave of orgasm.
"Gorgeous. You're so gorgeous. So perfect." He couldn't stop praising you. He could go on an on praising you endlessly.
He pulled out and stroked your legs with his hands. His lips covered your neck and shoulders with kisses.
"Do you need anything? I can order some food and I have a TV." He asked, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.
"No, thanks. Right now I only need you. And a shower a little later." You laid your head on his chest, and Jean covered you both with a blanket.
"Of course." He kissed the top of your head. "How are you feeling?"
"Dizzy and sleepy. But I've never felt so good."
"Me too. You were magical." He stroked your forearms with soothing movements. "Sing me one of your songs."
Pairings:
Nanami x reader x Higuruma
Toji x reader x Shiu
Naoya x reader x Choso
Satoru x reader x Suguru
Shoko x reader x Utahime
Sukuna x reader
You saw some stupid tiktok video of a girl walking up to a pair of random men and asking them to kiss.
You had the biggest lightbulb moment, you had people you could try this on... you just wanted to see their reaction, not expecting them to actually do it..... riiighhtt?
cw: gay, kissing, suggestive NOOT PROOFFREAD IM TIRED
Nanami and Hiromi
You worked in the same office as them. Both of them were the seniors in your department, but had taken you under their wings. They were caring and mature, able to have conversations with you openly about any topic you liked.
They were often seen together too.
So, at lunchtime... you struck.
You found them sitting both in some corner of the empty lounge room, drinking coffee.
Hiromi's downturned eyes found your the moment the door creaked open and you walked in with a grin.
Kento let out a small sigh, placing down his mug. "Did you forget to bring lunch again? How much do you need?" he was already reaching for his back pocket to pull out his wallet.
You snorted and shook your head, walking over and standing in front of the table, placing your palms down flat on the surface, eyes glimmering. The two men looked at you calmly, but it was clear they weren't sure what you were up to.
"Is something the matter? I'm sure we can resolve it." Hiromi spoke, his tone low but filled with care.
"Computer, make these guys super gay and horny."
Nanami gave you a look, his eyes slowly panning over to give Higuruma an unimpressed look.
Hiromi, a little taken aback, also looked over to the blonde.
"Cmon! Is that the only reaction i get?" You groaned, slumping as they just gave you side eyes. "Pleaseeee?"
"Is this... ahem, one of your tik toks?" Hiromi asked, a faint smile twitching up the corner of his lip.
Nanami looked like he was contemplating something.
"Maybe... just a jokeee..." You dramatically sighed, starting to push away from the table.
Kento, seeing you start to retreat, acted.
Your eyes went wide-
He grabbed Hiromi's tie, pulling him in, his hooked nose bumping against Nanami's straight one.
You squealed, a hand covering your mouth. You couldn't pull your eyes away, watching the two older gentlemen smirk at each other, lips almost touching.
But right as you'd hope they would kiss.... Kento let go of Higuruma and fixed his sleeves.
Hiromi let out a faint chuckle, leaning back and fixing his tie.
"Angel, maybe we should schedule something outside of work sometime."
Toji and Shiu
You joined Shiu's company a while back. You knew you'd often find him with Toji.
You were just a secretary, Kong was your boss and Fushiguro was the damn sorcerer killer but i digress.
You had formed a sort of friendship.
Toji was a bit meaner and spoke bluntly, often teased... or flirted with you.
Shiu was a more gentle man, though he would blow his cig smoke in your face during breaks. You didn't smoke, but liked to be in his company.
Last night you had seen a funny video, wanting to recreate it in real life with them. They seemed close enough that they could take a little joke.
You wandered into the back alley of the office building and found the two... sharing a ciggy.
Shiu was in the middle of passing it to Toji's fingers when they noticed you. The two looking amused already.
Toji slipped the half gone cancer stick between his scarred lips and took a slow drag.
You scurried over to the two, giving an innocent smile.
"Lost, doll?" Shiu laughed, leaning back against the brick building.
Toji let out a short laugh, blowing smoke in your direction. "Don't tell me you came out all this way to bring some damn papers.... or maybe you're here to start a new addiction." He took another inhale.
You shook your head, the light in your eyes shining brighter.
The two glanced at each other, not sure what to expect.
"Computa, make these guys supa gay and horny."
The sound of howling and barking laughs rang trough the ally. You watched as Toji doubled over, a hand grabbing onto Shiu's arm for balance. Your boss wasn't any better, throwing his head back to laugh.
"Is that... HAHA! is that all you came here to say?" Toji snorted, the cig dropping from his mouth.
"Can you two kiss, for me, pretty please?" You batted your eyelashes, trying to give them puppydog eyes and a cute smile
Shiu wiped one of his eyes, shaking his head "No way in hell-"
But his words were quickly swallowed by Toji tugging his arm down and crashing their mouths together.
You gasped, taking a step closer to watch.
They looked like they were a bit too into it, beefy arms pulling Shiu close by his suit and his hands grabbed onto Toji's neck, either to choke him or hold him closer.
You swear you could see tongue- but before you could get any closer, the man with the scarred lip pulled away and wiped his mouth, extending the other hand to you.
"Pay up, ten bucks, show wasn't free."
Shiu, looking a bit winded tried to look away, coughing to hide the faint blush on his neck.
Naoya and Choso
Naoya and Choso were rarely even seen in the same room together. They did not get along. at all. I mean, one is a puppy cutie patootie feminist and the other.... you'd rather slap him than listen to him talk.
Anyways.
You were having lunch outside, minding your business before you heard some arguing happening nearby, that familiar, cocky, cutesy tone of Naoya's shredding your eardrums.
You sighed, putting your lunch away and heading right over.
You found the black and blonde men, standing with arms crossed and frowns on their faces.
"You should never say such things about a woman."
"Dooon't care, if she breathes, shes a THOT."
"What does that even mean???"
Your poor baby Choso looked like he was upset, you had to jump in and save him.
Think think think think... what wouldn't lead to you getting grilled by Naoya too...
You walked up to the two, and blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
"Computa, make these guys supppa gay and horny."
Instant silence.
Choso, now finally noicing you, looked happier already but your words made him look confused again. "h...hhuh? What does that me-"
"GAY? WHO ARE YOU CALLING GAY?" Naoya's sharp eyes found yours, voice getting a pitch higher while pointing a finger at you now, rudely cutting off Choso.
"What? i said MAKE gay, not that you are. Are you getting so defensive because you are a homosexual?" You tilted your head.
Choso, now even more confused by these new terminologies finally spoke up. "I... can be gay and horny for you, if that's what you'd like. " He gave you a shy smile.
Naoya frowned, glaring over to Choso. "Are you even hearing yourself? You'd let a woman tell you what to do?" he scoffed.
Choso nodded, eyes not even glancing over to Naoya, focusing on you, as if you'd tell him what exactly to do now.
"You both are weird… i was just joking….." you shook your head, heading away from the odd pair. You had done your job.
…
"Should we be gay and horny for her?" Choso asked Naoya while watching you leave.
"NO!"
Satoru and Suguru
You already knew that your two best friends had something going on.
So you had the perfect idea how to test your theory about them being secretly together.
You found them at their usual spot, at some wending machine Satoru had already bought out and was trying to shake the last bag of candy out while Suguru just watched, letting the white haired man struggle.
"Guyysss!!!" You called while running over, your phone in hand.
Satoru groaned, kicking the vending machine one last time before turning and giving you a wide, toothy grin, eyes behind the blindfold focusing on you. "My favourite weakling!"
"Our favourite weakling. toru" Geto corrected, leaning off of the wall to crowd you.
You started recording with your phone, pointing the camera up at them probably at some bad 0.5 angle.
You cleared your throat and spoke. "Computa, make these guys supaaa gay and horny. Kiss."
Suguru blinked, tilting his head before glancing over to Satoru "What?"
Satoru paled, quickly shoving his hand on your phone and whisper-shouting to Suguru "DOES SHE KNOW?"
Suguru leaned over and did the same. "I THINK SHE KNOWS."
"Are you two gonna kiss or nah? Computa, make them hurry up. " You huffed, trying to wrench your phone our of Satorus fingers so you could film it.
Satoru almost whimpered, turning red and shifting to stand behind Suguru, hiding from you. "HOW DO YOU KNOW?"
"Know what? Bro just a lil peck-"
Suguru, ever the mediator turned his head to the side to place a soft kiss on Gojo's cheek.
you got it on a video.
New goon material.
Shoko and Utahime
You were in a little friendgroup with Shoko and Utahime, you went to college together and took the same courses- after doing some group project you became close friends.
As girlfriends often do, you spent every other weekend together, either having a drink or two or having sleepovers.
Today, you were at Utahimes apartment, bundled up in a blanket while the three of you lay together on the bed, having your silent tiktok scrolling time.
You scrolled and found a funny video, wanting to make a joke about it you loudly repeated it for the other two to hear.
"Computa, make these girl supa gay and horny." You giggled after saying it, sitting up to see if they were laughing too.
Shoko just gave you a small smirk, pushing herself up to sit. Utahime looked a bit more blank, staying laid down.
"Are you trying to tell us something, cutie?" Shoko laughed, poking at your side.
Utahime rolled her eyes but managed to get up as well. "You know that me and Shoko are dating, right?"
Your jaw almost fell off the damn hinges. You, in fact, did not know. "HUH? NONO IM JUST SAYING A TIKTOKIHEARDI-" You panicked, now worried you might have messed something up.
Leiri just laughed, leaning over and pulling at Utahimes arm, them both leaning their faces together, right in front of you. "Want us to be 'supa gay and horny' right in front of you?" She asked, giving you a smile. Utahime's face had gone red, even the large scar across her face looking like it was getting pinker.
You gulped, but gave a small nod, the video on your phone forgotten, you had just wanted to share with new niche reference but now you had somehow found yourself watching two of the hottest women ever make out in front of you.
You watched as they slowly got closer, basically climbing out of the bedsheets to hold hands while having a sensual, wet make out session-
"Stop staring and join..." Lori mumbled out after pulling away, brown eyes meeting yours, Shoko moving down to kiss at her neck.
Sukuna
Now you see, this is meant for two people. But Sukuna has two mouths soooo....
"Sukuuuu!" You cheerfully bounced over to him.
The beefy, monstrous man was in his garden, trying to write some haikus. In peace and quiet.
But of course your dumbass had to come annoy him.
"Speak, woman. I'll gut you if it is something foolish. I'm busy." He spoke, not even bothering to look over to you, holding his calligraphy brush in one of his many hands.
"Would you mind showing me how you move your second mouth to your palm?" You innocently smiled, padding up to him and leaning over his side.
He grunted, assuming it was all you wanted. Sukuna lifted his lower arm, side eyeing you before materializing the mouth from his stomach up to the palm. It grinned at you, tongue wanting to peek out. "Done?"
"Can you hold it up higher, i can't see..."
Higher? Foolish woman.
He exhaled, lifting his hand up.
"Could you put it near your face, i wanna see if its any different than your face.. mouth!"
He was so done. "Bossy." But lifted it anyways, this really being the last thing he'd do.
"Computa, make this guy supa gay and horn-" You tried to get out, grabbing his wrist to try and turn the hand mouth to his.. other mouth, wanting to have him kiss himself.
But Sukuna was faster.
Your vision went blurry and you fainted.
The bastard used cleave on you.
"Closed mouths don't get fed. They might get sliced in half though." - Yoon Goon, 2026
੭﹕notes. all fics in this masterlist are from the same universe, so there will be crossovers & references to each other. readers are all different mcs unless stated otherwise. note that this is a fraternity / college au, so it will be heavily party/drink/drug centric.
੭﹕rating. contains nsfw content. reader discretion advised.
mature content will be marked with a "!" and c/w will be tagged per post.
੭﹕index.
✶ satoru gojo › president, volleyball captain, ex highschool sweetheart.
→ introduction
→ wear my jersey (number one superstar!) | tba
✶ suguru geto › vice president, salutatorian, enemies to lovers.
→ introduction
→ 7 seconds in heaven(hell) | tba .ᐟ
Your Saturday nights are so calm and quiet now, just sitting in your couch with a good show, maybe a face mask and some chips. There's no man in the other side of the couch whining about how needy he is or complaining about how hot your apartment is. There's no man trying to bury his face in your neck while you hug him. It's just you and the nice show you were excited to see.
At least for a moment.
Around 11 p.m you hear two knocks in your door, sheepish and shy, like whoever was outside was scared of seeing you.
And he should be. Because when you open the door, you can't help to loudly groan.
"Reiner, for the love of god." You try to push the door back, but he stops it with just one hand.
"Baby, please," he whines softly. His hands are already close to grab your waist.
"Don't baby me, Reiner. It's the third time this week."
He's already making his way inside your apartment, closing the door behind his back and dropping to his knees right in front of you.
You sigh deeply, pinching the bridge of your nose as you stare down at the massive blond man currently on his knees in your living room.
Reiner’s broad shoulders are slumped, his head bowed so his forehead almost touches your thighs. His hands hover desperately near your legs, not quite daring to grab without permission, but close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his palms.
“I can’t do this anymore,” he whispers, he’s been crying for hours. “I tried, baby, I really tried to stay away tonight. I sat in my car for forty minutes just… staring at your window. I thought if I waited long enough maybe the feeling would go away, but it just got worse. Everything feels wrong without you.”
You fold your arms, trying to look unaffected even though the sight of him like this (six-foot-something of pure muscle reduced to a sniveling mess on your floor) does something twisted to your stomach.
“Reiner, you need to leave. We’re done.”
He shakes his head frantically, blond hair falling into his eyes. When he looks up at you, his face is flushed, eyes glassy and red-rimmed. Tears are already threatening to spill over.
“I know what you said,” he chokes out, “but you don’t understand. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. Last night I woke up reaching for you and when you weren’t there I...” His breath hitches, and he actually presses his face against your thigh this time, muffling his words. “I felt like I was dying. Please… please just let me stay for a little while. I’ll be good, I'll be so good. I won’t complain about anything or ask for anything. I just need to be near you.”
His arms finally give in and wrap around your legs, holding you in place with that terrifying strength he never seems to use against you, only to cling like a lifeline. He’s nuzzling into you now, shameless and desperate, lips brushing the fabric of your pants as he keeps whispering.
“I miss your voice. I miss the way you smell. I miss when you’d let me put my head in your lap and you’d play with my hair even when you pretended to be annoyed… I’m sorry for everything. I’ll change, I swear. Just don’t make me go back to that empty apartment. I’ll do anything.”
He pulls back just enough to look up at you again, cheeks wet, lower lip trembling. He’s one rejection away from completely breaking down.
“Baby… please. I’m begging you. I’m already on my knees. What else do you want me to do? Tell me and I’ll do it. Don’t send me away tonight. I don’t think I can survive it.”
His grip on your legs tightens just a fraction, not painful, but possessive in a needy and broken way. The whiny edge in his voice has gone softer like he’s been repeating these same words to himself in the mirror for days.
You can feel his heartbeat hammering against your shin.
He really is a pathetic little mess.
And he’s not moving until you decide what to do with him.
᭡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.
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 😛)
fratboy!nanami who constantly gets overlooked by his frat brothers. so, he fucks the girl everyone wants to prove he's more than just a square ˙⋆✮ smut, exobitionism (?)
fratboy!nanami was, for lack of better terms, a stickler. there was a reason he was the vice president of phi delta theta after all. he was astute, well mannered, harsh when needed, and overall a very well put together man. but, vicing a rowdy president like gojo left little time to himself where he wasn’t cleaning up a mess satoru had made.
as a result, the blonde had little to no time to fully engage in the... college experience.
kento wasn’t bothered by this fact, to be honest, he liked the work that came with the frat. he was well respected, had a purpose, and had a certain amount of control in his environment, exactly how he liked it.
but, on nights where his brothers would get on the piss and become a little too bold, the incessant teasing would begin.
toji had kicked it off this time, “ken, when th’ fuck are you gonna get laid?” the inquiry caused an onslaught of laughter and consistent goading.
“yeah, maybe some pussy’d help with that stick up yr’ ass,” sukuna huffed out, taking a hit of the cone circling round’ the room.
“leave him aloneee,” gojo added on, flopping down onto the couch and swinging an arm over nanami’s bulky shoulders, “let the poor man be celibate, he’s got other shit to worry about.”
“yeah? like all the fuck-ups you cause for everyone else when you’re on one of your little power trips?” suguru piped up.
“shut up.” the blue-eyed freak spat back.
nanami would just roll those pretty hazel eyes and take a swig of his drink, telling them all to fuck off before ignoring any further digs.
he wasn’t a virgin or anything, like i said, he was just busy. he’d had a fair few girls before he sold his soul to the house, it’d just been a while! that’s all. he told himself he didn’t give a shit, but then the boys did it again. and again, and again, and again.
after around the sixth time, the man had enough.
he was gonna get laid alright, and he was gonna leave a lasting impression on all of his fuckwit friends.
kento had the perfect plan cooking up in his head. out of everyone on campus, he knew there was only one person he could ask to carry said plan out with, and that was you.
you were very well known among the frats. not for being a notorious slut or anything, no way, the complete opposite actually. you were hot shit, on track for an equitable future, the embodiment of look but don’t touch, a certified man-hating pillar. you never gave any guy the time of day, always choosing to hang with your friends at parties rather than give a male the satisfaction of your company.
you had one exception, though. and that was nanami.
he was your partner in one of your classes last year and he treated you with nothing less than respect. not once did he try to flirt or play around like most guys did, he just kept his head down, made normal conversation, and used his manners.
god, why couldn’t all guys be like nanami?
it wasn't much of a secret that you’d formed a little crush on the man, and if you weren’t mistaken, you’d say he liked you too after all the flirty conversation you’d exchanged since the project. but then again, the whole 'busy' thing. a little annoying that the first guy you’d had a proper crush on was always too busy being big and important at his frat, but you could deal with it.
nanami was worth it.
anyway, long story short, he was the only guy who had the privilege of being in your contact list on campus, and that warranted a lot of back-and-forth conversation.
nanami smiled at the last chat you’d had about hating gojo, then sent the message that would start everything off.
kento [7:38pm] evening, [name]. i hope you’re doing well.
kento [7:38pm] i was wondering if we could meet up and talk sometime soon?
you [7:42pm] kento!
you [7:42pm] hiii :)
you [7:42pm] ofc, tell me when and where and i’m there
kento [7:45pm] perfect, does right now and my room sound okay? i’m sorry, i know it’s such short notice.
you [7:45pm] mhmmm that’s fine
you [7:45pm] omw!
now it wasn’t like kento was using you, no chance in hell. this wasn’t a one-sided scheme, he too had had a crush on you for quite some time and he knew you liked him as well. in fact, the two of you had frequently spoken about how your joint lack of sex weighed heavier on the both of you than you’d liked to admit.
“y’know, ken. if you ever wanted to indulge, i'd be happy to help.”
“how generous, most men would kill to hear you say that,”
“what can i say, you’re pretty special to me.”
“we’ll see, angel.”
well, this was him seeing.
~
“ken, y’ in there?” nanami heard drift from the other side of his door, followed by three short knocks.
he instantly shot up, straightened out his shirt, then strolled up and opened his heavy wooden door.
“evening, glad you could make it.” he smiles softly, taking all of you in with lidded eyes.
“anything for you.” you teased half heartedly, oblivious to the effect that little quirk had on his now throbbing cock.
he closes the door behind you, then ushers you to sit beside him on his bed.
“well, don’t you look lovely. i hope the guys didn’t give you too much trouble on the way up here? i should have met you downstairs, my bad.”
taking a loose thread from your shirt and twirling it around your finger, you smile and reply fondly. “they weren’t too bad. just told them we needed to study and they left me alone. and it’s no issue, i was the early one.”
nanami smiled at your unusually formal reply. very different from your regular laid back demeanour, he could tell you were a little nervous.
“you’re probably wondering why i asked you over so late?”
“mhm, what's that about? y' need something?”
yeah, you.
he shook his head and turned to face you completely. “you remember that talk we had last summer? how we chatted about—”
“—about our sex lives? or... lack thereof.”
he's taken aback at how readily that slipped from your lips, like you were just waiting for this to come up.
“yes, well... exactly.” he clears his throat and curls his pointer finger around your pinky that lays rested against his bed sheets, sending a flush of heat to both your face and lower stomach.
“now, what i'm about to ask is going to sound terribly douchey, but i'd like if you were to hear me out...” he looks up at you to see you nodding along with an intrigued little glint behind your eyes. “the guy’s have been especially irritating as of late about how little action i get, and it’s getting on my nerves.”
he sighs in pure embarrassment from how horrible this was about to come off, “i was wondering if you’d be open to—”
“yes!”
nanami looks a little shocked at how you cut him off once again, staring at you with an air of surprise.
“i mean, yes.” you say a tad calmer. “yes, i wanna do it, with you... now.”
the once stoic man finds it hard to suppress his enjoyment and lets go of a soft laugh.
“eager, i see.”
“you could say that.”
well, that was easy.
“so, you don’t mind if i...” his hand slips up your arm, pulling you closer to his body with a low, sly smirk. seeing him in this light did nothing to aid the coil tightening in the pit of your stomach, and you nod feverishly.
“please...”
the reaction is instant, he leans in and gently takes your lips in a deep, slow kiss. nanami allows you to set the speed, starting out nice and slow, but for you that wasn't enough, you’d spent too long needing this man for this to be anything but fast-paced and passionate.
you bite at his bottom lip as you slip into his lap, earning a guttural moan deep from the man’s throat. both his thick thighs and iron grip on your waist made for a nice seat as you begin to rock your hips back and forth against his hard, clothed cock. your tongues dance together as he keeps one hand on your waist and the other on the back of your head, guiding your face towards him as he desperately deepens the kiss.
you pull away for air then drag your hand up his shirt, feeling his firm chest and solid stomach. “you’re built...”
“surprised?” he quirks a brow, running his hands up and down your sides purposefully.
“guess not... i wanna see.” you gently tug the bottom of the shirt then reach for the hem and pull it over his head. rippling abs and lines of thick muscles come into view, and you hold your breath in astonishment at the sheer amount of muscle mass. you’re completely awestruck at his build, his reddening chest rising and falling heavily as he struggles against his arousal. his entire torso was covered in a light sheen of sweat and his abs twitch as you follow the center crevice down.
“you’re so hot, my god...” you breathe, any other guy would solicit no more than an impressed nod. but nanami? his ego deserved to be stroked.
“thank you, angel.” he grins. “now let’s get these off.” he slips one hand beneath the waistband of your shorts, tugging you higher on his lap with the other arm to create enough room for him to yank them off. with one less layer of fabric, the pressure of his dick now felt all but too much to handle as he continued to explore your mouth with his tongue. your previous grinding movements started to slow from the new intensity, you were scared you’d finish right then if you were to keep going. but just then, nanami pulls away for a second, his hands now on your hips as he manually begins to pull you down harder.
“keep grinding, baby. you can do it.”
he's acting all smooth and suave, but deep down? he’s beside himself that he managed to capture your attention. out of all the men thirsting over you, you’d chosen him. he wasn’t particularly flashy or especially funny, yet you’d decided to entertain him when so many others would kill to be in his position.
by now you’re letting the filthiest of sounds pour from your lips into his open mouth as your clothed clit bumps against his concealed cock over and over again. you try your best to conceal your sounds, but he pulls back to tease you a little, his cheeks flushed red as he smiles. “don’t hide those pretty whines, baby. i want them to hear.”
he then hoists you up, flips you over, and climbs over you, pinning your arms over your head as he overtakes your lips. as he grinds, you free a hand, but he catches it and guides it to the front of his jeans, placing your fingers against his fastened belt. “go on, sweetheart.”
between breathless kisses you undo the leather and slide it out and onto the floor. you take your time teasing and unzipping his jeans and he moans lowly when your hand curls around his semi-freed cock, gently smoothing over his boxers.
“fuck, that feels s’ good.” he slurs, latching onto your neck and rocking his hips up and into the palm of your hand.
you bite your lip as he begins to litter hickeys over your neck, you slip your fingers into his underwear and cup your hand over the shaft, stroking up and down before pressing your thumb into his dripping tip. he whimpered against your lips, cock twitching and hips jerking uncontrollably.
he makes sure to make a show of it. there was no movie playing downstairs, nor were the speakers blasting bad rap, so the house was perfectly in order to be subjected to both his, and your thirsty sounds.
he'd make sure every one of those assholes could get a good idea of just how much he could get if he really wanted.
nanami grabs your wrist, panting heavily. leaning his head against your shoulder, he places soft kisses on your neck, working up to your ear before tugging your shirt off along with your pretty, red, lacy bra.
fuck, he’d never been harder than he was right now, you really had it over him.
“a matching set, hm? you hoped tonight would end up like this?”
you flush, embarrassed that he’d caught on to your presumption of this happening. “a little...”
“what a naughty thing.” he laughs. “i’ll show you just how thankful i am to you, baby. you deserve to be treated like an angel.” he unclips the bra, then cups one of your breasts and squeezes gently, huffing out an appreciative sigh as he dips down to take the nipple into his mouth.
“fuck—!” you whine, your own hips jerking and grinding up into nothing at the delicious sensation.
he rolls the soft bud between his teeth softly, then two thick fingers trail down your stomach and into your panties, tugging them off before rubbing your clit in circular movements, dj-ing the bundle of nerves until you’re whining and writhing beneath him like a woman possessed.
“ken—! fuck, i can’t, i can’t! fuck, i need you!”
pulling off with a ‘pop!’, he grins at your now bare body, slipping his fingers between your soaked folds before tugging off his boxers and freeing the monster of a cock you’d only felt up until now. he pumps the shaft a few times before slapping the tip against your clit.
you lay there, entranced. “oh my... you’re fucking massive.”
“yeah?” he grins, letting go and cupping your face tenderly. “think you can take it, baby?” he asks genuinely, searching your eyes for any sense of hesitation. “we can stop at any point, okay? just tap me three times and i'll stop, promise.”
you only gulp in reply, staring at the thing nervously before opening up your legs fully, your sweet spot on full display for him.
“be gentle...”
“of course, love.”
with one arm beside your head and the other on his cock, the muscular man lines up, then pushes slowly into your sopping cunt with a, “fuuuckk.”
you huff out a whine, squeezing your eyes shut, trying your best to accommodate for his big size.
“holy shit! ken— i— fuck—” you’re already a blabbering mess and he’s not even halfway in, adorable, really.
kento smiles as he draws such pretty noises from your throat, thrusting in a little faster to see just how loud he can make you scream.
“kento! you're so fucking big, shit!”
he hopes everyone hears that.
“almost there, honey. keep your hips still, i'm almost— fuck!—” with one final pull, he’s bottomed out, your stomach bulging from his size.
“god, ken! move, please move. need you.” you groan, gripping the sheets with balled fists, in complete and utter ecstasy from the full feeling,
he listens, rocking his hips back and forth. he goes tantalisingly slow at first, then speeds up as your whines grow desperate,
“more, please, go faster ken!”
he pounds into you relentlessly. sure, it’d been a while since he’d done this, but he couldn’t let himself be anything less than perfect for you, because in his eyes, you were perfection.
with each thrust he’s drawing you closer and closer, each dirty word coiling you up tighter and tighter, until finally,
“o-oh! kento, i think m’ gonna— i think i'm gonna—”
and with one final thrust, you’ve come undone all over the man’s cock. he rocks into you a few times with nasty grunts before coming himself, thick ropes of seed painting your insides, the warmth sending your brain into overdrive.
he keeps still for a good while after it all, panting heavily with his weight pressed over you, his forehead dipped down near your collarbone.
his thumbs drag over your waist gently as you both calm, huffing and shaking with pleasure.
“shit,” he whispers into your ear, “you were fucking amazing.” he laughs, tired.
you let out this small, stupid laugh, “so were you, kento.”
he smiles and brushes a soft kiss to your temple before finally pushing himself up, “you all good?” he asks gently.
you nod, then realise how intently he'd looking at you, waiting for an answer. “m’ good. really good.” you grin.
that gets another one of those small smiles. “good, let me clean you up, angel.”
he disappears off the bed for a second, grabbing something from his drawer, then comes back with a warm, damp cloth. “open your legs f’ me.” you obey and he wipes away the mess he’d left behind tenderly. to think, the same guy who had you pinned down on his cock just minutes ago, now taking his time making sure you’re clean and comfortable
“ken,” you say, softer now.
“hm?”
“that was… really nice.”
he stills for half a second, then resumes. “yeah?”
“yeah.”
he glances up at you then, eyes searching your face like he’s trying to figure out if you’re just saying it, but you’re not.
“i was worried this’d be…” he trails off, “i dunno.”
“what, bad?” you snort.
“no,” he says quickly, “just… not this.”
you tilt your head. “you mean not… us?”
he doesn’t answer, he finishes what he’s doing, sets the cloth aside, then leans back on his hands looking at you.
“i guess so, yeah,” he admits. “wasn’t sure you’d even say yes.”
“yeah, well... i liked it being us. and i’d like it to be us again, if you catch my drift.”
“me too,” he smiles, kissing your forehead once more.
you scoot closer to the man and rest your head against his arm. “we could’ve done that ages ago.”
he lets out something between a laugh and a sigh. “i know, and i wish we did.”
“we’re so dumb.”
“mhm.”
you smile, nudging him. “you like me.” you tease.
he looks down at you, then away with a flush on his cheek.
“and you like me.” he replies.
“i do.”
“so what now?” he asks, looking down at you with curious eyes.
“well... i like you, and you like me... normally this is where people start seeing each other.”
“well, i’d love to start ‘seeing’ you, [name].”
your brow quirks. “yeah?”
“i mean it,” he says, more serious now. “this isn’t just me proving something to those assholes. i really like you, sweetheart.”
you blush gently, then reply, “good. because i really like you too, i’d be a little pissed if this was just to get back at them.”
“two things can exist at once.” his hand finds yours, fingers intertwining together.
after a good two hours of talking about what this meant for the two of you, nanami dressed you, fed you, and walked you to your car outside the frat at around 2am.
“text me when you get home,” he says.
“yes, dad.”
“i’m serious.”
“i know,” you grin. “i will.”
you lean in and plant a quick kiss to his cheek, then slip into your car.
~
the next morning, nanami’s standing in the kitchen making avocado toast with a big old smile on his usually stoic face.
as he’s spreading the avo across the bread, one by one, his frat brothers trudge down the stairs. they yawn and stretch as they stalk towards the kitchen.
“morning,” nanami calls over his shoulder.
no one really answers him properly, so he glances over his shoulder.
gojo, suguru, toji, sukuna. they’re all just standing there, looking at him like they’ve seen a ghost. a tall, muscular, post-sex glow ghost.
he furrows his brows in faux confusion. “what?”
gojo’s the first to break. “so...”
nanami sighs. “so?..”
“did you—” suguru starts, then cuts himself off, “did you... and [name]… like, fuck?”
nanami turns back to his toast and cuts off his crusts. “yes.”
...
toji lets out a low whistle. “no way.”
“way,” nanami replies dryly.
sukuna leans against the counter. “you’re serious?”
“i don’t make a habit of lying.”
the men are still awkwardly quiet, then gojo steps forward, grin creeping back onto his face, but for once, this time, it’s not mocking.
“y’ sounded pretty passionate last night. real cozy, you guys a thing now?”
“yep.”
toji walks up and claps him on the shoulder. “didn’t think you had it in you.”
“clearly,” nanami mutters.
suguru smirks. “she’s hot as hell, man.”
nanami doesn’t respond to that, just takes a sip of his black coffee.
sukuna gives a short nod. “you're real lucky.”
“i know.”
and there it is. silence. no digs at his lacking sex life, no jokes about his dry dick, and no incessant teasing.
god, is this heaven?
gojo stands by nanami’s side, then sticks his hand out. “good job, man.”
nanami looks at it for a second, then takes it.
one by one, they follow with quick daps and nods of approval, like some unspoken ‘bully the fuck out of nanami’ rule just got rewritten.
and then they’re moving on, grabbing food, talking about anything else and finally leaving him alone at the counter.
nanami exhales slowly, staring down at his plate.
bliss. no more comments, no more pressure, absolutely nothing left for them to hold over him.
and yet, that’s not even the best part.
he reaches for his phone, smiling fondly as he types you out a message.
kento [8:12am] good morning, angel. did you have a nice sleep?
you [8:12am] best sleep of my life.
kento [8:12am] i'm glad. could i come over tonight?
A/N was motivated to write this req for wifey @fricks, and co-creators @blu-goingdark and @/kiwiladylaurence (silly girl won't give me her @) helped me with an idea uwu so sugoii
Yuji gives Megumi a sketchy gas station honey pack 𖹭.ᐟ - 2.1k words mdni 18+
pairing: megumi x fem!reader
cw/notes: everyone is 18+ // this entire thing is just smut // megumi is freaked tf out // reckless driving // yuji lowk set this man up // cums in u // wants to get u pregnant // whimpers & begs // squirting // I think that's it holy content warning
: ̗̀➛thx @yarasshafik for the request it was v fun and I might've gotten a lil bit carried away hopefully not too much for u 🫣🤭 .... also hear me out- yujixmegumixreader 🫣🫣
Megumi really didn't think it'd work when he decided to take one of Yuji's sketchy ass gas station honey packs. The same one he swore would have Megumi' bricked up for days.' If anything, Megumi thought he was full of shit, which is exactly why he took it on the drive to your apartment a couple of hours out, just to prove a point.
He hated how far away you lived, especially when he was always wanting to see his beautiful girlfriend. It was insufferable, really, being so far away from you, not being able to hold you close whenever he wanted. But today, he was going to see you, and you didn't even know he was coming. He knew you'd had such a long and exhausting day, always having to deal with people non-stop. So he figured he'd surprise you by showing up with some pretty flowers and a small box of chocolates.
The first part of the drive was completely fine, perfect even, the time went by so fast. He just couldn't stop thinking about you and at first it was just a distraction, his hand gripping against the wheel, as his thoughts slip off to you a second too long. Then it got worse, his mind wouldn't stop drifting back to you—to the way your cunt feels wrapped around his cock, to the way you ride him so good his legs shake.
That's the moment Megumi realizes he's fucked, so fucked. Because once the image of you slips into his head, it doesn't leave. It stays in his mind, vivid and relentless, your lips, your voice, the way you look at him, all slutty when you want him. The thought alone has his breath catching, a broken whimper slipping past before he can stop it.
"F-fuck…"
He's a mess—way past just a little worked up. He's fucking gone. A pathetic, whimpering mess, shifting restlessly in his seat, desperate for any kind of relief as he bucks his hips into the air, pre already wetting a spot in his jeans.
One hand slips off the wheel, fumbling down to his zipper, fingers clumsy and uncooperative. He curses under his breath when it catches, frustration sharp as he groans, tugging at the zipper harder than he should, his focus slipping dangerously off the road.
"Fuck—come on…" He mutters under his breath, jaw clenched as his cock throbs so much it's starting to ache.
He's not even paying attention to the road anymore, too fucking hard, he can't even think straight. Megumi finally manages to get the zipper undone, tugging his pants down just enough for his pretty cock to spring out from his boxers. The sudden relief is almost immediate—but when his eyes flick back to the road, he hits the rumble strip, jerking the wheel hard to correct himself.
"Shit!" he curses, pulse hammering in his ears, knuckles white as he squeezes the wheel.
And instead of calming him down? It just makes it worse. Every thrum of his heartbeat shoots straight to his cock, twitching pitifully against his shirt. He reaches down, stroking his cock slowly before he quickly loses control, thrusting up into his hand like it's your tight little pussy.
His tip, all red and flustered, is profusely leaking pre, trailing down his length and slicking his hand, helping it glide up and down his dick. He was leaking so much pre it had his balls tight and aching, so full with cum as he grew impossibly harder.
God, why can't he cum? He wants to so badly he can't stop himself from fucking his own hand, whimpering your name as he gasps, "What the f-fuck Itadori!? What the h-hell is this-a-ahh!"
Shit. He moves down to his balls, rubbing them gently, teetering on the edge of cumming, but instead of releasing, he just throbs in his hand, milky white pearling at the tip. Sweat starts to bead along his forehead, cheeks flushed, lips parted by how damn needy he is for you.
By the time he reaches your place, he's throwing the car in park, zipper halfway up, hair a mess, eyes glossed over. He doesn't remember the chocolate or the pretty flowers he planned to surprise you with, hell, he doesn't even remember the three flights of stairs it takes to get to your apartment. When you finally answer, he's hardly holding it together.
Your eyes go wide when you see him, "Gumi! I didn't know you were coming over—"
He's already stepping inside, closing the door behind him, pinning you against it, hands gripping your waist to hold you still.
"Fuck, baby." His hands are all over you, sliding up and down your hips, sneaking under your shirt, cupping your breasts in his big hands. "You still ovulating?"
Your cheeks flare at his directness, "Y-yes, Megumi… are you okay?"
He doesn't even answer, already whimpering against your neck just from your scent, hips pressing against you, hard cock brushing your bare thighs.
"You wear those slutty little shorts f'me, baby?" he hums as his hand slides under your shorts.
"Mmmm…" You don't even get the chance to answer before his hand slips right past your silky panties. "Gumi, we can go to my room–"
You've never seen him like this—all needy and desperate—and when his thumb finds your clit, tracing slow, gentle circles, you're damn near coming undone. His lips find yours again, deep and messy, none of his usual soft, slow kisses. He just wants you—needs you in the most primal fucking way.
He lifts you, gripping your thighs, digging into your soft skin, making you yelp. His cock twitches at that cute little sound you make, nearly making him pin you to the wall, taking you right there. But, since he's such a sweet boyfriend and has just a little bit of strength left, he decides to take you to your room instead—except… somehow he ends up in the kitchen. Years with you, and suddenly he's so horny he can't remember how to get to your bedroom!? Fuck, he didn't even care, instead sitting you on the counter, your legs wrapping around him. His face is buried in your neck, sucking and nipping at your sensitive skin, while your hands tangle in his black hair. He tugs his jeans and boxers down slightly, giving his cock a few pumps.
"S-sorry, I can't…" he murmurs, so fucking pathetic, apologizing for losing control, for needing to touch himself so badly. "J-just… feels s-so good…" he didn't even need to spit, his dick was already slick from pre and the hours he spent jerking off to you.
God, he's not even there—he's fucking his hands, almost forgetting about his beautiful girlfriend drinking in the sight. "You need help?" you ask, fluttering those coy lashes at him and it makes him weak, pre streaking his veiny cock.
He just nods, moving closer, lips claiming yours. You take him in your hands, stroking, muffling his whimpers in your mouth. Your thumb teases his slit, slick and sensitive, having him gripping your thigh. "You want my pussy that bad, Gumi?"
Shit—that does it. "P-please" Please!? What the hell is in these packets? He starts to wonder if Yuji just fucking laced him, because what is he even saying? A babbling mess, and christ, any other time he'd be mortified at the shit he's saying, but he can't stop himself. So hot and sweaty, dying to get any sort of relief, and fuck if his balls get any tighter, he might just lose it.
"You need to cum?" You bat your lashes at him, watching his legs tremble as you stroke his dick in your hands.
"Need her so badly," he pants, shaky and out of breath, lips ghosting over yours. "...need your pretty pussy… s-so bad…."
You let go of his cock, and he's already whining at the lack of touch, cock twitching against his sweat slicked shirt, revealing his toned stomach. You slip your shorts off, tossing them aside as you take him in your hand, guiding his tip to your slit, teasing slowly.
"Mhnnn—" He can't control himself, slamming his cock into you, too fucking needy to not be inside you. "She feels s'good."
He can't stop fucking you, his hips slapping against your ass as he lifts your thighs up, burying his cock deeper, his tip kissing your puffy cervix, making your eyes roll back, moans spilling from your parted lips.
"She gonna take my cum?" His legs shake, hips snapping up as he fucks you so deep it has his balls slapping against your drooling pussy.
"Please, Gumi!" You cry out—has he always been this fucking big? God, it feels like your cunt is wrapped impossibly tight around him, every thrust stretching you out more and more. "Want your cum s'bad, wanna feel it dripping out of her."
Megumi still can't cum and it's driving him insane, so infuriatingly insane when your pussy feels so damn good it has his balls getting unbearably tighter, to the point he'd do anything to cum. He'd fuck you for hours if that meant he could cum in your pussy, filling you up so much that you're leaking for days, all your favorite panties ruined with him.
You lean up, gathering his hair into black tufts between your fingers, gripping him tight while he buries his face in your tits, licking and teasing your sensitive nipples. "Gonna fill her up with s'much cum, s'much you'll have to get a plan-b."
"Plan-b?" He stops. The one and only thing you could say that could snap him out of his daze.
"So… you don't get pregnant?" His head tilts slightly, and he looks so adorable if he wasn't buried inside you, face flushed and sweaty.
"What if…" You lift his chin from your chest, rubbing his soft, puffy lips with your thumb. "I want you to cum in me."
You don't have to say it twice—he's already thrusting, slamming his hips into you, fucking you so deep and hard it makes your toes curl, hitting that spot that has you feeling like you're going to piss all over him.
"Gumi! Fuck! Megumi! Seriously– Ah..Mhnn–" You throw your head back, resting your hands flat as mascara streaks down your cheeks. "You're gonna make me p–"
You can't even get the words out, already squirting all over him, pleasure crashing over you in waves as you scream his name so loud you're worried the neighbors might call the cops. Fuck– you can't help it, especially as he's fucking you through your orgasm, his shirt soaked, damn near translucent, showing his abs on full display. Every thrust has you squirting more, and he loves it. His cock throbs inside you as he drags two fingers up his shirt and to your mouth, making you lick yourself off him.
You obey, moaning around his fingers as your cunt clenches around him, milking his cock until he's a whimpering mess in your ear, fingers limp and hanging from your mouth as he almost collapses against the counter, barely holding himself up with shaky arms, shooting milky white ropes in you, filling you up so much you're already leaking cum before he pulls out.
When he pulls out, all sweaty and fucked out, you nearly want to take him to bed, to feel him needy for you all over again. To hear him whimpering in your ear, begging for your pussy like it's the only thing he needs on this earth, and to have him fill you over and over again with his cum until it's impossible you're not pregnant.
"Round two?"
"You just came??" You look at him like he's damn near lost it, and you thought you were the horny one.
"But I'm still soooo hard." He whines, hand already back on his cock.
"Did you take something?" you ask, confused at what's come over your sweet boyfriend.
"Mhmm," he moans more than answers, "Yuji gave it to me."
You never thought you'd hear your boyfriend moan his best friend's name, yet here you are… and fuck–are you supposed to be so turned on by it?
"...Yuji?"
He nods, eyes fluttering shut as he continues to stroke himself, and you're not even sure he's fully here. That only lasts about a second, before he's scooping you up, hurrying to your bedroom, and throwing you on the bed. You squeal as you hit the soft mattress, sinking instantly into the cushion as he climbs over you, hard cock teasing your dripping slit, before fucking his cum back into you.
