Definition: The Eiffel Tower is classic threesome geometry: you on all fours (hands and knees), one pounding you from behind, the other kneeling/standing in front getting deepthroated.
The restaurant in Ginza is the kind of place Hiromi picks when he’s trying and, mostly failing, to pretend he’s not exhausted from another 14-hour day. You’re halfway through dessert, laughing at the way he’s dramatically narrating the latest courtroom disaster like it’s a true-crime podcast, when you feel someone stop at your table.
You look up. Nanami Kento. Blond hair still perfectly parted, suit still immaculate even at 10 p.m. Your stomach drops. Hiromi glances up too, then does a visible double-take. His tired eyes widen behind his glasses. “Kento?” “Hiromi?” Nanami’s voice is surprised. “I didn’t know you were in Ginza tonight.”
Hiromi stands immediately—old habit from college days, apparently and claps Nanami on the shoulder “It’s been—what, six years? Seven? Sit, sit. You remember—” He gestures to you, beaming like he’s just won the lottery.
Your mouth opens. Nothing comes out. Your goddamn ex-boyfriend who Hiromi had no idea you’d dated. Nanami’s gaze slides to you. Politely nodding, “Of course.”
“Well,” he says, clapping his hands once, “this is fantastic. Small world. Kento, you’re not busy, right? Come back to our place. Catch up properly.” You stare at him like he’s lost his mind. Nanami hesitates then nods once. “If it’s no trouble.” Hiromi reassures him, already signaling for the check. “Anything to catch up with an old friend, right? No trouble at all.”
You’re going to fkning murder him.
Arriving home, the apartment door clicks shut behind the three of you. Hiromi immediately heads for the kitchen, shedding his jacket over the back of a chair, “Whiskey orrr whiskey?” he calls without turning around. You drop your bag on the entry table with more force than necessary. Nanami stays near the door for a second longer than he needs to, loosening his tie with the same deliberate calm he used to use when he was about to end a long day by ending things with you.
“Whiskey’s fine,” Nanami says. Hiromi pours three glasses without asking if anyone wants ice. He hands one to Nanami first then you. You all sit. You take the couch. Nanami takes the armchair across from you. Hiromi perches on the arm of the couch next to you, close enough that his thigh presses against your shoulder.
“So.” He swirls the glass lazily. “Kento. Still doing the corporate bullshit. “Or did you finally tell them to fuck off like we talked about senior year?” Nanami smiles, “Still employed. Still billing hours. You?”
“Still losing cases I should win and winning ones I shouldn’t.” Hiromi shrugs. “Same shit. You remember that class I had to retake four damn times?” “Oh—yeah,” he says, motioning toward you with a small lift of his chin. “You were in it. Same section. Same professor. You used to finish the hypotheticals before Ikeda even finished reading the facts. I sat behind you every Tuesday and Thursday.”
“Ikeda’s class. The one with the curved grading and the weekly hypotheticals that made half the section cry.” Hiromi clarifies. Nanami nods once. “That one.” Hiromi’s gaze snaps to you disbelieving, “You were in Ikeda’s morning section?”
You swallow. “Yeah.” staring into your whiskey like it might grow a mouth and save you.
Nanami continues, “We dated for a little over a year. Then I graduated early. Corporate offer came in. Timing didn’t work.” ‘GODFCKN DAMNIT KENTO why couldn’t you just keep your mouth shut.’
Hiromi goes still. The room is so quiet you can hear the refrigerator hum. Hiromi takes a sip slowly. “You dated,” he repeats. Hiromi looks at you then sets his glass down with a soft clink. “So,” he says casually, “you two have history.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Hiromi—”
Hiromi lets out a short, incredulous laugh that has no humor in it. “I was in the afternoon section. Same professor. Same material. Same fucking hell. And you—” He points at you, then at Nanami, then back at you. “—were in the same goddamn classroom as him. Every Tuesday and Thursday. For a whole semester.” You open your mouth. Nothing helpful comes out. Nanami exhales through his nose—the same sound Hiromi makes. It’s uncanny. Hiromi’s eyes flick to you. “And then you met me.”
You glare. “You’re making this weird.” “I’m making it honest.” He leans back, arms crossed. “I mean, come on. My old college friend—who I haven’t seen in years—happens to be your ex. And neither of you thought to mention it until we’re all three sitting here.”
Nanami looks at you. “I thought you would have told him.” “I thought it was ancient history,” you mutter. Hiromi snorts. “Ancient history, sure. So, which one of us fucks you better?” Kento chokes on his drink, as you shoot your boyfriend a glare, “What has gotten into you?!”
“What’s gotten into me?” he echoes, “I don’t know—maybe the fact that my girlfriend’s ex is sitting in my living room, drinking my whiskey, and apparently sat behind her in the same goddamn Contracts class I used to come home and bitch about every single week. Maybe it’s the part where neither of you thought that was worth mentioning. Ever. Or maybe—” he tilts his head, eyes flicking between you and Nanami, “—it’s the part where I’m sitting here realizing the guy who used to steal my ramen and proofread my briefs is the same guy who used to fuck my girlfriend.”
Nanami sets his glass down carefully. “Hiromi,” he says gently, “That’s enough.” Hiromi’s laugh is bitter, “Is it? Because I’m just getting started.”
You stand up so fast the couch creaks. “Hiromi, stop.” He looks up at you angrily, “I’m not mad at you,” he says, “I am mad that you lied. For pulling this shit tonight. I’m mad that I invited him here like an idiot because I was happy to see an old friend. And I’m mad that—” He gestures vaguely at the three of you. “—this is happening. All of it.”
Nanami stands slowly. “I can go.” Hiromi’s head snaps toward him. “Sit the fuck down, Kento.”
Nanami doesn’t sit. He just stays standing, hands loose at his sides, waiting. Hiromi exhales, “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “That was out of line. The question. All of it.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I just… I don’t know how to process this without sounding like a jealous asshole.”
You soften despite yourself. “You’re not an asshole. You’re just… processing. Loudly.” He huffs a small, self-deprecating laugh. “Yeah. That tracks.”
Nanami goes to turn and leave, “I didn’t come here to cause problems,” he says. “And I’m not here to compete. If you want me to leave, I will. No hard feelings.” Hiromi studies him for a long beat. Then he looks at you again. “I don’t want either of you to leave.” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters, dragging a hand through his already wrecked hair. “You’re really gonna say that right now.”
You shrug, helpless. “It’s the truth.” He looks between you and Nanami like he’s weighing between jealousy, curiosity, maybe both and then his mouth curves into a smirk. “Alright then,” he says, sliding off the arm of the couch, settling properly beside you, one arm draping behind your shoulders, fingers brushing the nape of your neck as his eyes stay locked on Nanami.
“You still think about her?” Hiromi asks bluntly. Kento takes a sip before answering. “I don’t lie to myself about the past,” he says evenly. “Yes. Sometimes.”
Hiromi’s thumb strokes once against you, “And you?” He turns to you, voice dropping. “You still think about him?”
“Sometimes,” you admit softly, “Not like before. But… yeah.” Hiromi nods once, like that’s the permission he needed. He leans in, lips brushing your ear. “Then go ahead and fuck him.” Your cough turns into a startled laugh. “Go on, baby. I know you want to.” He urges you again. You hesitate before softly saying, “Ken… come here.”
Hiromi shifts, pulling you back against his chest so you’re half in his lap, legs parting instinctively as Nanami sinks to one knee between them. Kento’s hands settle on your thighs, pushing the fabric of your dress up inch by inch while Hiromi mouths along the side of your neck, “Look at her,” Hiromi murmurs against your skin, “Isn’t she so pretty.”
Nanami’s thumbs trace slow circles higher, higher, until they brush the damp lace between your legs. You arch without meaning to, a soft moan slipping out. Hiromi hums approvingly, one hand sliding down to cup your breast through the dress, thumb flicking over the nipple until it pebbles.
Kento hooks his hand through your wet panties, shoving them aside. The first swipe of his tongue is slow, like he’s relearning every inch. You gasp, hips jerking, but Hiromi bands an arm around your waist, holding you still. “Easy, baby,” he soothes, even as his other hand works the zipper of your dress down. “Let him taste what he’s been missing.”
Nanami groans against you, his tongue circles your clit once, twice, then dips lower, lapping at your pussy. Hiromi’s already hard against your ass through his slacks. His arm tightens around you, holding you open, “Tell him how much you missed this,” Hiromi whispers, “Tell him, baby. He’s listening.”
You start trembling and whimpering, “I—I missed your mouth, Ken. The way you… fuck, the way you always knew exactly—” Nanami doesn’t let you finish—just doubles down, sucking gently on your clit until your thighs tremble. Hiromi finally gets your dress off your shoulders, baring your breasts to the cool air of the apartment. He rolls one nipple between his fingers, pinching just hard enough to make you whine.
“Look at him,” Hiromi orders, “Look at how much he wants this.” You do. Nanami’s eyes are half-lidded and focused, blond hair falling forward as he works you over with devastating patience. When he slides two fingers inside making you whimper, back bowing. Hiromi laughs softly, “There it is. That sound I love.”
He shifts behind you, freeing himself from his pants with one hand while the other keeps you pinned. His cock presses hot and heavy against your lower back as he strokes himself lazily, watching Nanami devour you. “Think you can take both of us?” Hiromi asks, lips at your ear. “Like we talked about that one night. Remember my pretty girl?” Your brain short-circuits. “Yes—fuck, yes.” Nanami pulls back just enough to speak, lips shiny. “Hell yes.”
Hiromi nods in agreenment, before pressing a kiss beneath your ear. “You heard him, sweetheart. He’s in.”
Nanami rises smoothly to his feet, shedding his jacket, The metallic clink is obscenely loud in the quiet room. Hiromi helps you turn, maneuvering you until you’re facing the back of the couch, knees sinking into the cushions, ass presented. “Hands here,” Hiromi murmurs, guiding your palms to the backrest. “Keep them there unless one of us says otherwise.” You nod, breath hitching.
He walks around behind you, slapping your ass as Kento appears in front of you. “Hi, pretty girl.” He tips your chin up with two fingers. “Open.” You do, tongue flat, and he slides in slow—filling your mouth inch by inch until your lips stretch around him. The weight of him on your tongue makes you moan around the shaft; he exhales sharply through his nose, hand sliding into your hair to guide the rhythm.
Behind you, Hiromi lines up, one hand gripping your hip hard enough to leave prints, the other spreading you open. He pushes in with one long, steady thrust, your back arching with a muffled cry vibrating around Kento's cock.
“Fuck,” Higuruma rasps, “So tight after all that arguing earlier. You were waiting for this, weren’t you?” You can’t answer—mouth full—but you push back against him, clenching deliberately. He groans, hips snapping forward harder, setting a brutal pace that rocks you onto Nanami’s length.
His control slips a fraction. Hiromi’s thrusts drive you forward forcing more of Nanami’s cock past your lips until the head bumps the back of your throat. You gag softly, eyes watering, swirling your tongue under the ridge just the way you remember he liked. The two of them find rhythm without speaking: one pulls out as the other pushes in, seesawing you between them until your whole body is shaking.
“Goddamn,” Hiromi growls, fingers digging deeper into your hips as he watches the way your throat works around Nanami. “Look at that. Taking him like you never forgot how.” He begins thrusting deeper, balls slapping against you with every snap. You whine around Nanami’s cock—drool slipping down your chin—as Higuruma angles just right. Kento tightens his grip in your hair, fucking your mouth while Higuruma rails you. Nanami pulls out just enough to let you gasp, strings of spit connecting your lips to his tip. “Words,” he says calmly. “Tell us how it feels, baby.”
You manage a whimpered, “F-fuck—full—don’t stop—” Higuruma’s rhythm stutters at your voice. They sync up—Higuruma slamming deep from behind, Nanami sliding back into your mouth. The position holds: you bridged between them, body rocking with every thrust, throat and cunt stuffed. Nanami’s thumb brushes your cheek, wiping away a stray tear that slipped free when you took him especially deep. “Still so good at this. Always were.”
Hiromi laughs possessively, “Yeah? Tell me something I don’t know, Kento.”
Nanami’s eyes flick to Hiromi over the top of your head, “She used to come untouched just from sucking me off,” he says, “First time it happened she cried—thought something was wrong with her. Took me half an hour of coaxing to get her to admit how close she was.”
Hiromi’s thrusts turned punishing, that comment clearly hit a nerve. “Is that right?” Hiromi rasps, one hand sliding up your spine to fist lightly in your hair, tilting your head back so Nanami can sink even deeper. “You never told me that, baby. Keeping secrets from me now?”
You can’t answer—mouth too full, throat working frantically—but your body does: a fresh gush of wetness before you come first shaking hard, muffled screams around Kento as your walls flutter and clamp down on Hiromi as his pace turns erratic. “Fuck—fuck, that’s it—squeeze me just like that—”
Nanami pulls out of your mouth with a wet pop, hand stroking himself fast, eyes locked on your wrecked expression. “Where do you want it?” he asks, voice strained. You don’t even have to think. “On me,” you rasp, voice hoarse. “Both of you.”
Hiromi swears viciously as he pulls out at the last second, flips you onto your back so fast the room spins, then straddles your hips. They stroke themselves in tandem—Hiromi’s hand flying over his cock, Nanami’s slower but no less desperate—until they both come.
Hiromi comes first, hot stripes painting your stomach, your breasts, one pulse landing across your nipple. Nanami follows seconds later, spilling over your chest, your collarbone, a few drops catching your chin when you tilt your head back for him. Hiromi exhales roughly, dropping down beside you, pulling you half into his lap before reaches for the throw blanket on the back of the couch and drapes it gently over your lower half.
Hiromi snorts softly. “Ever the gentleman even when he’s fucked my girlfriend. Classic Kento.” Nanami’s mouth quirks—just the tiniest hint of a smile. “Someone has to be.”
You laugh, weak and shaky, head lolling against Hiromi’s shoulder. “You two are ridiculous.”
Nanami disappears into the hallway without a word, returning a minute later with a damp washcloth and a glass of water. Classic fuckin’ Kento, what a sweetie. He hands you the glass first. You take it with trembling fingers, sip slowly, grateful for the cool slide down your raw throat. Then he kneels again between your spread thighs and gently wipes the mess from your stomach, your breasts, your collarbones with slow careful strokes.
Hiromi watches the whole thing with half-lidded eyes, one arm still slung around your shoulders. “You always this sweet after you come on someone else’s girl, Kento?” Nanami doesn’t look up from his task. “Only when she asks nicely.”
You choke on a laugh that turns into a soft groan when the cloth brushes a particularly sensitive spot. “Stop. Both of you.” Hiromi smirks, reaches over to take the washcloth from Kento’s hand, and finishes the job himself dragging the damp fabric across your nipple until it pebbles again under the attention.
You look back up at Kento, about to ask him not to leave before Hiromi beats you to it. “You should stay,” he says, “Since it’s already so late y’know.”
Kento looks up, eyes flicking from Hiromi to you. You reach out before you can overthink it, fingers curling loosely around Nanami’s wrist. “Please,” you add softly. “Stay.” He brushes your hair to the side of your face, “Alright, of course. I’ll stay.”
Hiromi smirks lazily, already reaching for the half-empty whiskey glasses on the table. “Good. Because we’re not done catching up.” You bury your face in Hiromi’s neck to hide your blushing.
Whatta small world, indeed.
a/n: several pussy pleasure breaks were taken during the writing of this and I j wanted to share that ALSO credits to @owwllly for this masterpiece of art they drew
nanami’s veiny cock stretched you open over the sink, the dishes long forgotten in your hands. you could feel your knees threatening to give out every time he snapped his hips forward, feeling tears streaming down your cheeks as loud moans left your parted lips. “kento—please—”
nanami's gaze never left your body. he observed how it jiggled with even the slightest movement. you could feel every vein of him inside you, his pink tip brushing deliciously against your cervix.
your husband pressed his damp forehead against your shoulder as he slammed his hips into you relentlessly, cock twitching at your tightness. your own slick dripped down your thighs.
"looking so pretty for me—fuck, so tight—like the perfect little wife.” he mumbled, unable to stop himself. sliding his hand down to rub excruciatingly slow circles on your sensitive bud, which you responded by letting out a sharp cry.
you could feel yourself growing closer and closer to your orgasm, moaning loudly enough for the entire building to hear (already bracing yourself for the noise complaints you were undoubtedly going to receive tomorrow). you bit your bottom lip, trying your best to muffle the sounds escaping you. "nanami—feels s’good!" you gasped. "so deep, kento—gonna—"
you weren't able to finish your words as a warm wave of pleasure washed over your body, leaving you shaking and gushing on him. "yes, darling. make a mess on kento. such a good girl." nanami gritted through his teeth.
"please, cum inside me. i need your cum" you whimpered.
nanami's cock twitched once, twice, before he came inside you with a loud groan. filling you so deep you were dripping with his cum. his hips snapped forward one last time before he slowly pulled out and held you as you steadied yourself.
"did i leave you unsatisfied last night, kento?" you joked breathlessly, and the two of you chuckled.
“i fear that would be impossible” he replied softly. "i’m sorry, my love. you just looked too gorgeous."
you adjusted your dress, turned to face him and wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your soft lips against his. there was nothing more nanami could wish for.
.
.
.
made by toruslut. idk how i feel abt this one but ugh isn’t he just so dreamy
your husband, nanami kento, disrupts your pilates session?! ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ac. thatsallitchief
“next, we’re gonna lift the right arm with the left leg and vice versa! thaaaat’s it.”
grunts and groans fill the living room as you desperately try to keep up with the lady on the youtube video doing pilates.
yep, apparently this is your new fixation (starting today).
but… you aren’t exactly the most active person there is.
“fuck!” your head slams against the floor mat, neck muscles already strained to the max.
your husband—nanami kento—ever so attentive, looked up from the novel he’s reading to take a peek at you.
the corner of his lips hold back from a smirk and you can already predict what he’s about to say.
“what.”
“nothing, darling.” he hides his face behind the book, and you’re seething with anger.
as such, you storm over to nanami and straddle his lap, throwing his book to the side of the couch.
he bursts into a laugh, covering his mouth with his palm and it just aggravates you on how adorable he is.
“what? what is it? why’re you laughing, huh?” you even start laughing too! what the hell!
nanami wraps his big arms around your body and plasters kisses all over your face.
“stop-“ kiss. “-it,” kiss. “kentoooo!”
he squeezes your cheeks and shivers from the amount of cuteness aggression he has right now. “my love, i was simply enjoying the view. you looked so adorable all focused and grumpy.”
“i’m not grumpy.” you pout. he kisses your pout away.
you sigh, “maybe i’m not meant to be a pilates girl.”
“you’re my girl, that counts for something, right?” he says softly. you smack his chest and giggle. “you’re so corny”
“you’re corni…er. i don’t see why you need to do all this when your body’s perfect already.” nanami gently swipes the hair out of your face and tucks it behind your ear.
“i just wanna be healthyyyyuh. plus i’ve got the mobility of an 80 year old, ken. i’m only 20!”
he kisses you again. and again. and again, until he finally whispers in your ear.
“let me worship you, baby. you’ll sweat more from it than dumb pilates.”
oml hubby!nanamin reminding you to breathe during smex!
sorry for such the long hiatus loves :((
“where do you feel me baby? tell me.” you nails dug into the back of the man currently fucking the shit out of you, to the point where you were incoherent. your thighs pressed against your sweat glazed torso, his hips harshly colliding with yours, hitting the deepest and most sensitive spots you have.
“mmm! n-hereeeee!” you weakly moved one of your hands to your womb. he smiles, kissing your lips and then making home on your sensitive neck. where his moans and groans went straight to your ear.
nanami makes LOVE. he never fucks.
he wants you to lose yourself in the pleasure he gives you, always to the point where you’re overstimulated and almost can’t take it.
one thing nanami always noticed was how you don’t breathe whenever you guys have sex. it’s not like when you ask him to slightly choke you, or when he shifts his weight on top of you when you guys are in prone bone. it’s whenever you guys are intimate in general, he has to stop and remind you every time :(
“baby, baby. breathhhe.” he halts his hips, holding your face so your gaze is only focusing on him. not even a second passed and you’re gasping in and out, tears cradling down your brown cheeks. “there you go baby, there you go..” he slowly picks up his thrusts again, causing you to whine and whimper. trying your best not to fall into the habit of holding your breath again.
“m’gunna cuhmmm n-nana!” — “that’s my good girl. y-yeaa.” the knot in your stomach about to burst. his tip constantly hitting that spot that makes you feel dizzy. “it’s t’much!”
you whined. pushing against nanami’s abdomen, attempting to halt his thrusts for a moment. but he didn’t let up. “uh, uh baby. let out for me, let it out for your nana.” grabbing your wrists, and pinning it above your head.
the knot in your stomach snaps. squirting all over your husbands and thighs, coating them with your essence. it wasn’t too long until nanami reached his high. quickly pulling out and finishing on your stomach.
“did so good for me baby,” he lifted his hand from your wrist, using it to caress the side of your face.
You’re sitting on Nanami’s lap, completely spread open for him.
Your thighs are spread as wide as possible, draped over either side of his, your back pressed against his broad, solid chest. Your skirt is hiked all the way up to your waist, your panties long since pushed aside.
His long, thick fingers are fucking you without mercy, plunging deep into your soaked pussy with a slow but brutal rhythm.
Every thrust makes a wet, obscene sound. Two fingers sink in to the knuckles before pulling out almost completely, only to slam back in harder. His knuckles rub perfectly against your G-spot with every stroke, while his thumb circles your swollen clit with precise, steady motions.
Your juices are flowing abundantly. They soak his fingers, run down his hand, and stain his expensive suit, that perfectly tailored dark gray trousers that must cost a small fortune. A dark, shiny wet patch is already forming on the fabric, but Nanami doesn’t care at all.
“Let go,” he murmurs against your ear, his voice low, calm, and slightly husky. His warm breath caresses the back of your neck. “You can get as wet as you want. This suit is nothing compared to the feeling of you like this around my fingers.”
You moan loudly, head falling back against his shoulder. Your hips move on their own, meeting his fingers with every thrust. Your body trembles, your thighs trying to close reflexively, but he holds them open with a firm hand on the inside of your leg.
“Nanami… ugh pls!” you cry out when he curls his fingers just right, pressing hard against that sensitive spot that makes you see stars.
He speeds up slightly, fucking your pussy harder, deeper. The wet sound of his fingers sliding in and out of you fills the living room. Your juices are now flowing freely, soaking his pants, his thigh, and even the couch beneath you.
Nanami places a slow kiss on your neck, then gently nibbles your skin before licking the spot.
“You’re so wet for me…” he breathes, almost in awe. “Look at what you’re doing to my clothes. You’re so open, so drenched just for me.”
His fingers continue their relentless work: plunging deep, curling, rubbing, while his thumb never leaves your clit, stimulating it without pause.
You feel the orgasm building fast, violent and uncontrollable. Your walls clench around his fingers, your thighs shaking hard.
He smiles against your neck, a calm but satisfied smile, and picks up the pace just a little more.
“Then come,” he murmurs in a low, commanding voice. “Soak me completely. I want to feel your pussy squeezing around my fingers.”
His thumb presses harder on your clit, his fingers fucking you faster and deeper. The orgasm hits you brutally. Your body arches violently against him, a raw cry escaping your throat as your walls spasm rhythmically around his fingers.
A hot jet bursts out of you, soaking his hand even more, his pants, and the couch. You squirt, unable to hold it back, your pleasure gushing abundantly over him.
Nanami lets out a soft, satisfied growl, continuing to move his fingers slowly to prolong your orgasm until you’re trembling and breathless in his arms.
When the spasms finally subside, he gently withdraws his glistening fingers from your soaked pussy. He brings them to his mouth and licks them slowly, never taking his eyes off you.
“Delicious,” he murmurs, voice still a little rough. “And my suit is completely ruined… but it was more than worth it.”
You answer with a small, incoherent sound, too exhausted from your orgasm to speak properly. You feel Nanami smile against your shoulder. He turns your head and kisses you tenderly.
