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lavendertalks311 · 6 hours
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500+ notes on my first little fic of Nanami x reader made me so happy. Thank you all so, so, so much, from the bottom of my heart. More to come I promiseee !!
Here’s link to read
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lavendertalks311 · 6 hours
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Nanami Kento: Relationship Headcanons (now a fic), Part 10
Warning: MDNI!! Explicit sexual content in this and following chapter. Details below cut.
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Contents: smut, fingering, mild breast play, oral sex (male receiving), mild testicle play.
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Somewhere, between the bedroom door and the bed, Kento seems to come to a realization. You feel it in the way his almost desperate touches slow in pace, transforming to burning trails traced with agonizing slowness over the curves of your body.
His message is unspoken, and very clear. He wants this to be perfect. He wants to take his time with you.
You are more than happy to comply.
Your lips part from his with a soft, wet sound in the charged silence of the room. Something about this man, the way he looks at you, touches you, welcomes you wholeheartedly into his life, gives you a confidence you've never felt with any other lover. It leaves you feeling powerful.
He watches in almost pained concentration as you step away from him, eyes never leaving his. You're now wearing just your underwear and you wonder if the light catches your skin as tantalizingly as it does his. You reach behind you to unhook the clasps of your bra, but he stops you, grasping your wrist gently.
"Let me."
The soft desire in his voice flickers over you like a flame. You allow him to turn you, facing the bed, your hair draped forward over one shoulder. His fingertips scrape slightly against your skin as he works the hook, tracing down your sides as the straps slip off your shoulders and fall away.
He steps forward, pressing his body into your back, and you almost tip forward onto the bed from how overwhelming his bare skin feels against yours. He moulds to fit the shape of you, and you make out the shift of his pectorals as he brings his arms around, the subtle scrape of the coarse hairs on his chest against your shoulder blades. His breath is like a furnace against the nape of your neck, and you tilt your head, a soft noise leaving you involuntarily as his mouth descends, opening against the sensitive skin; a promise.
His hands are on the dip of your waist, large palms spanning you, rising, rising. They trace the outline of your breasts, and you rise on tiptoes, head falling back against him with a gasp as he cups them. His grip is firm, caressing, the roughened skin of his palms catching on your over-sensitive nipples as he draws broken little sighs from between your lips.
His breathing is accelerating as he feels you, supple under his touch, feeding on the noises you're making for him. His fingers leave their almost obsessive squeeze and stroke of your flesh and slide lower, under the lace hem of your panties. He pauses as if asking permission, even now, and you place your hands over his, pushing down impatiently.
He huffs a small laugh against your hair and then your panties are gone, slipping down to rest softly at your ankles. You feel completely exposed, and somehow, it arouses you beyond measure, knowing he will be the one looking, tasting, tou -
The breath temporarily leaves your lungs as he lifts you and tosses you gently down on the eiderdown, the small display of strength creating a pleasant throb between your legs. You turn over, taking him in fully as he gets on his knees and crawls across the bed towards you.
The lamplight gleams on his golden hair, mussed and uncharacteristically dishevelled by your touch. The sharp, lined corners of his eyes are softer, the scorching, languid glance drinking you in, but still so earnest, so endearing. He is utterly beautiful, from the powerful shoulders, lean waist, the small hairs that speckle the significant expanse of his chest and trail down, deliciously to the small, sandy tuft above the line of his underwear, to the arms and thighs that ripple with corded sinew, shadows chasing over every defined line visible in the dim intimacy of the bedroom.
You take a small, reverent breath and lie back, surrendering yourself completely as he reaches you, lying on his side against your supine form. He is so warm, so intoxicatingly close, breath fanning out against your collarbone as he takes a moment to drink in the sight of you, splayed out for him.
He cups your chest again, then grips the flesh firmly, his mouth coming down without warning around your nipple. The cry that leaves your lips spurs him on. Kento never does anything by halves. He gives your breasts his full attention, tongue tracing the rounded contours before descending on your stiffened peaks, mouth engulfing as much as he can take. His teeth grazing against you as he lifts his head each time, making you arch off the bed. He alternates between the left and right, laving them with soft licks and bites, and just when you've gained some semblance of control again, you feel his broad palm slide down your stomach.
"K - Kento - "
"Look. Look at yourself. Please. "
You obey him, raising yourself slightly on your elbows, hair pooling on the mattress behind you. Your thighs part at his approach, as if obeying some primal instinct. You already know how wet he's made you, and he grunts loudly when his hand finds your slick folds, watching you jerk, your mouth opening in a soundless cry. You don't take your eyes off where his fingers are, and your compliance makes his breath come quicker, the stuttering words that leave his lips spiralling up to the ceiling like smoke.
"You're ... darling, so wet - I - please. I want to - "
He is not accustomed to this, to expressing his desire verbally. You can tell. You decide to help him along, as much as you haven't experimented much with this before yourself. You are no virgin, but there are still many things you want to experience with Kento for the first time. Bringing your mouth to his ear, you feel him still slightly as you whisper to him.
"Kento."
"My love?"
"Do you like how I feel?"
"I - of course I - "
Your head drops back on the bed, a soft, alluring smile forming on your lips. His eyes are now trained on you, asking a question. You have his complete attention. Good.
"Can you feel how wet I am?"
He exhales sharply.
"Yes."
His fingers are slowly going to work again, rubbing against your sensitive skin, slipping down, making you gasp as he smears wetness over your already soaking labia.
"K - Kento. So good. Making me feel so ... so good."
"I am?"
"Yes. Want you ... hah ... right there, right there - "
"Here?"
"Yes, God, yes."
Your voice is rising, almost uncontrollably, as those large, strong fingers slide against you with greater firmness, circling your clit, pressing down, spreading you, testing the soft give of your entrance.
"Want to feel you, Kento, please."
"Like this?"
Your petals unfold under his touch, one finger breaching into the heated clasp of your walls.
"Just like that, like that - "
"Come here."
His voice is suddenly rough with want, and he tugs you closer, his mouth coming down on your chest again. You clutch at his shoulders as he adds a second finger, working relentlessly, picking up pace inside the wet heat of you. You are now barely aware of the words that leave your mouth, the soft cries, the wanton encouragement.
"Yes, yes, there. Kento, please ... I - making me feel so - "
He releases your nipple with the soft, wet 'pop' of heavy suction, and now his breath is ghosting over your ear.
"Making your pussy feel good, darling?"
Oh. Oh.
Always such a quick student, this wonderful, wonderful man.
"Yes, so good, so good, I - "
You cut off with a small scream as he curls his fingers inside and you stretch wider against the intruding digits. Where the fuck did he learn -
"My love, your pussy's so tight, so sweet - "
"Oh God, yes - "
"Tight, wet little -"
"Ken - Kento - I'm - "
"Squeezing me so much - "
He is panting as hard as you are now, head dipping down between the litany of his praises to take your nipples roughly into his burning mouth, watching them glisten with his saliva as your back arches high off the bed, your trembling thighs spreading wider apart.
Something white hot is building in your abdomen, between the rhythmic press of his fingers and the added stimulation of his lips. Your clit feels raw, each brush electric, a steady, throbbing pulse that is dragging all of your awareness down, down, to the blossoming between your legs that is now completely under his control.
"I - Kentooo - I'm - "
"That's it. Oh darling, so - you're getting so much ... tighter, I can feel - God, come for me, angel. Come for me. Come with this beautiful pussy, I - want - "
His own words are slightly slurred now, but you can no longer keep your eyes open, no matter how badly you want to see him right then. The peak he is building you to is frightening, a complete loss of control, your hands slipping on a steering wheel, careening of a cliff, that sudden weightless drop you feel when you're asleep, your body taut and shuddering, and -
Your orgasm punches the air out of your chest, diaphragm struggling to keep up with the demand of your lungs. The room around you, the bed beneath you, ceases to exist for a minute, the intensity of the pleasure reverberating all the way to the curl of your toes against the mattress. Your neck feels damp with perspiration, your fingers digging into the mattress above your head, clawed and desperate.
After a minute, you begin to regain your senses, one by one, sound and touch returning before your eyes blearily open to take in the man who's gently bringing you down from those dizzying heights. His hands are now gliding over you, grounding you as he soothingly brushes over your sides, hips, thighs.
You are aware that your throat feels scratchy, your fingers stiff from where they have been clutching the eiderdown. Your breathing is ragged, and sweat is cooling in the valley between your breasts, along with the remnants of his saliva. You realise, with horrifying immediacy, that there is dampness, not just at the corners of your eyes, but collecting at the side of your mouth. As much as you started off feeling confident, you hadn't expected him to reduce you to an embarrassing, drooling, babbling mess with just his fingers.
Your shame is quickly forgotten, though, when you see the tenderness with which he looks at you. Those same fingers that were mercilessly grinding inside you a few minutes ago come up, toward his lips, and no, was he -
Oh, those eyes of his, honey-brown in this light, more alive and softer than you'd ever seen them. His gaze never leaves your face as he takes those digits into his mouth, tasting you, then slowly reaches across and traces your lips. He is still watching as your mouth opens obediently and you graze your teeth languidly over him, tongue swirling around his knuckles.
"Good girl. So beautiful when you come."
You almost lose your hold over reality a second time when he leans forward and laps up the excess moisture that has slipped from the corner of your mouth, a groan rumbling through his chest.
Throughout it all, he had been so focused on giving you pleasure, he had drawn your attention completely away from his own needs. You chide yourself for being so selfish as you glance down, between your bodies and note that he still has his underwear on.
Making a small noise of protest, you lift yourself, having recovered enough to move.
Hands still trembling slightly, you place your palms against his chest, pushing him down on his back. He is clearly pent up, his erection tenting hard against the tight fabric. In spite of the fact that you've just orgasmed, you feel a surprising pulse of arousal at the sight of him.
"Kento ... here, let me."
Biting your lip, you glance at him from under your lashes, spying the infinite hunger with which he watches you. Taking that as permission, you hook your fingers into the waistband of the briefs and pull them away from his body, then down, careful not to jostle his erection. The privilege of stimulus is solely for you; you want him just as delirious with pleasure as you have been.
He catches his breath lightly as the air hits his exposed flesh, and you sit back on your heels momentarily, to take in the image of him. The ridged planes of his abdomen form a wide, clear cut 'V', the darker blonde hair trailing down to the trimmed tuft around the base of his cock. He is curved, thick, a slight turn to the right at the tip, the smooth flesh red and painfully engorged, veins standing out along the length.
You have never seen anything more delicious.
Previous experiences have left you feeling lukewarm about giving pleasure orally, but you want to taste Kento so badly you have to squeeze your knees slightly together. The way you're looking at him is obviously having the desired effect because the swollen head is now touching his belly and he lets out a sharp grunt as you lean forward, his cock twitching slightly as you trail your hands up his thighs. The short, coarse blonde hairs catch between your fingers, the planes of muscle hard and tense.
You lower your head and press kisses softly where your hands pass, the trembling in your own legs a reminder of the pleasure you want to give him. Kento's eyes glaze over slightly, and you've never seen him quite like this before, spread out before you like the choicest buffet, the powerful body that was always so tightly controlled under that suit coming undone beneath you. He is breathing heavily, the skin of his face flushed, trying desperately to keep his gaze fixed on you and what you are doing to him.
You touch him, fingers wrapping around the base of his shaft, squeezing, testing, and a groan tears from the back of his throat, the longing in that single sound an indication of just how much he's holding back. Always in control, even to the point of submitting to your own desires.
You have patience. You can wait until that changes.
Pearly fluid glistens at his tip, squeezing out further under the soft ministrations of your hand. You taste him; he is slightly salty, musky. The scent pulls a hazy veil down over your mind, and now you are operating on pure instinct. Taking him into your mouth, you press him into the inside of one cheek, watching his head flop back on the mattress, his hand sliding down to the back of your neck. Eyes closed, Adam's apple bobbing with each breathy attempt to regain control, he is the most magnificent feast you have ever had the fortune to behold.
You slide him out, until just the tip remains between your lips, then press him back in. Your pace is slow, allowing him to adjust to the heat of your mouth. The muscles of Kento's thighs clench every time you bob forward. You pause in between to lick him gently from base to tip. The flush has now spread to his chest, sweat glistening on his forehead and the swell and dip on either side of his peaked brown nipples. His deep groans have turned into a soft chant of your praises, spurring you on even more.
"Oh God, please, darling ... just - ah - just, there. Yes. Yes. Your mouth ... ngh ... so sweet. Fucking heavenly. Fuck, I'm - please. Don't stop. Don't. Yes."
Hearing him curse like this for the first time sends a bolt of electricity straight down the front of your body, and you moan around his cock, the vibrations causing him to jerk spasmodically under you. The sweet, filthy encouragement, the hardening grip of his hand on the base of your neck, just below the hairline, is filling you with a sense of elation.
You are doing this to him.
You slip him out of your mouth, rubbing the silky, glistening shaft, then place one hand on his inner thigh, pushing. He glances down, spreading his legs further apart, but slowly, as if not sure why you're requesting it. You run your hand down, to the base, but don't stop there, gently cupping the soft flesh of his sac. He hisses and raises his head, meeting the question in your gaze.
"I - sweetheart, I'll - "
"I know."
"I know, Kento. But I want it. Want you to come in my mouth."
Your keep your voice low, sultry, your fingers stroking him with slow, steady firmness.
The words ignite some kind of inferno behind his eyes, and he props himself on his elbows, gulping before giving you a small nod. You smile and dip your head once more, circling with your tongue, feeling the roll of his testicles within the loose outer skin. You take one into your mouth, suckling with care, and the sound he makes, somewhere between growl and a yelp makes you want to build a little pillow fortress and live between his legs forever.
You alternate between sucking his tip and gently teasing his sac, stroking his length firmly all the while. He is growing hotter, harder inside your fist, twitching now and then, the opaque essence leaking out into your hand. The slick, wet sound of your stroking is building another fire between your own legs, one you'll neglect for now in favour of giving him your full focus.
And God, you never want to look away.
He has now fallen back, unable to support himself on his elbows any longer. One arm extends outwards, fingers grasping the edge of the bed as if his life depends on it. His expression is almost the same as when you kissed for the first time, slightly pained, ecstatic, head pushing back into the mattress. He is much louder now, the sounds he makes gruff and almost animalistic. It turns you on no end to know that Kento, your Kento, the man who lives by professionalism and propriety, is here, with his cock in your mouth, bucking his hips into your face like he can never get enough.
You speed up your strokes, careful to grip him tightly enough such that he doesn't slip out of your palm. You slide a hand under him, marvelling at the sheer muscle that forms his perfect buttocks, and he cries out, hips lifting right off the bed as he twitches, harder than ever, within your grasp. A flood of earthy warmth is suddenly on your tongue and Kento's entire body spasms, muscles tauter than piano wire under your hands. His mouth is wide open, nothing but throaty, half-formed groans emerging. You keep still, allowing him to spend himself, before tilting back your head and swallowing his viscosity, wiping off the underside of your lip.
He slumps heavily back on the bed, and you sit up slowly, watching as a few translucent strands of semen droop from the head of his cock, settling on his stomach. You lean forward and clean him, his warm abdomen clenching under your tongue. He strokes your hair, drawing your head away and you crawl up the bed, making your way to his side.
Kento is looking at you as if you are the last earthly delight he will experience in his lifetime, his cheeks ruddy, strands of gold darkened by sweat sticking to his forehead. He reaches for you with slightly shaky arms, and you curl up into his side, head tucked between his armpit and chest. He is too spent to do much, besides wrap and arm securely around you, his breathing gradually slowing to a more even pace.
His embrace, the heat of his body beside you, the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your hand is so comforting that you must have fallen into a light doze, because a short while later he is tracing shapes on your back gently, whispering to you to wake up.
"Love. Don't you want to get cleaned up?"
You nod, stretching luxuriously, and he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, placing soft kisses there, and then on your temple. You sit up and he is watching you closely, a slight uncertainty in his posture that makes you take pause. You cup his face between your palms.
"Kento? Everything all right?"
He shifts slightly before clearing his throat.
"I ... well. I haven't had much in the way of ... I mean to say ... was it ... "
Dear God.
"Kento. It was not too much. It was perfect."
He pauses, the muscles of his shoulders losing some of their tension, and a small smile creeps across his face, devastatingly sweet and shy. He slowly eases you to the edge of the bed.
"I see."
"Are you really the same man who asked me if my pussy felt good?"
Kento's head whips around so fast you thought he'd damage a tendon. His expression makes something vast and tender well up in your chest, bursting from your lips in a violent sputter of laughter. He grabs you by the hips, not too tenderly this time, nipping slightly at your ear in reprimand.
"You are a cruel, cruel woman."
"Am I going to be punished, do you think?"
"Very harshly."
His grasp on you is rapidly stirring something else between your bodies, something you had no idea you would be capable of feeling, considering the earth-shattering orgasm he'd given you a short while before.
You stand, and his eyes travel the length of your body, lingering on the curved length of your spine and lower, taking you in with the kind of regard that was far from the gentlemanly nature of his everyday self.
"Are you coming, Kento?"
"I most certainly am."
Your laugh becomes breathy as he rises and wraps his arms around you from behind, a more intimate echo of the way he'd taken you to bed earlier. You speak into the charged silence.
"I thought you were concerned about me going to work tomorrow?"
"I was."
"And now?"
"You said you were going to take it easy at work."
"And that means ... "
His lips are now planting themselves along your shoulder, and he pauses between kisses to whisper to you, voice husky and alight with desire.
"That means you're going to accommodate me, my darling."
"Accommodate you where, Kento?"
"You know where."
"My kitchen, perhaps?"
His soft chuckle stirs the hairs at the base of your neck. His kisses turn to soft bites that make you gasp.
"We needed to get cleaned up," you reprimand him.
Your heart really isn't in it, though. Not when his hands are sliding down your thighs.
"We will."
"You're not helping. Kitchens are delicate areas, you know."
"You're right, love. After all, I've only set foot in yours. And I intend to use every part of your kitchen. Very, very thoroughly."
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@tsukimefuku @g-kleran @kentocalls @actuallysaiyan
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lavendertalks311 · 1 day
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Imagine calling Nanami daddy in bed
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Calling Nanami daddy might just bring out a new side of him..
‼️ MDNI ‼️
.⭒☆━━━✰━━━☆⭒. .⭒☆━━━✰━━━☆⭒.
Nanami's heart nearly stopped, his grip on your hand tightened, and the tempo of his thrusts grew frenzied. A dirty word like 'Daddy' from your lips, used in this context, caused a flood of emotions. A rush of hot blood coursed through his veins, igniting his lust to new heights.
The sight of your body writhing beneath him, perfectly illuminated by the dim light of the room, was all it took for Nanami's resolve to crumble. Their milky, youthful skin glistened with sweat, a stark contrast to the darkness of Nanami's hand employed to smack your hips with thunderous force.
Your moans were music to Nanami's ears, escalating in pitch and intensity as he drove them to the edge. The power dynamic that had formed between them was electrifying, the sordid dance of dominance and submission reaching a fevered pitch.
Nanami felt as though his eyes were about to burst from the sockets, a sense of urgency pulsating in his veins. His balls tightened, his thrusts grew desperate, and the room filled with the primal chorus of your debauchery.
"Cum for me darling" Nanami ordered through gritted teeth. "Let go everything for daddy"
Your hips bucked convulsively, signaling that your release was imminent —ignited by Nanami's ruthless stimulation—throbbed, begging for the release just as desperately. The pent-up energy released, with a deafening moan, You spilled your seed all over your own abdomen.
It was like a domino effect as, sensing the end, Nanami shuddered deeply, ropes of his essence spilling into you with an almost animalistic groan. His orgasm overtook him, rendering him momentarily spent, his body heavy and languid, before collapsing onto you.
Panting heavily, eyes glossed over, they laid there, wrapped in each other's arms, the climax of their carnal
desires intertwined. An erotic haze had taken over, and as the high faded, the gravity of their actions hit them both like a ton of bricks.
In the hush of the aftermath, you finally had the clarity to register how Nanami's hand had slipped from smacking their hips to tenderly stroking their sweat-covered body. The gentle touch was a stark contrast from their earlier passion, creating an indescribable sensation.
.
.
.
.
Just imagine tho
.⭒☆━━━✰━━━☆⭒. .⭒☆━━━✰━━━☆⭒.
HIII! sorry for the late post I thought I would’ve been able to write a few more things before I officially started starting posting on here but the universe was not on my side and I got crazy busy these past few day
(╥﹏╥)
But I do hope you enjoyed (pls send feedback if any❗️) this and I will try and blog more. LUV U <33
ALSO I did I want to post this earlier for Nanami birthday but couldn’t on time so this is my happy late late birthday to my sugar daddy (≧◡≦)
X0X0 - Urfavslutsoul (^з^)-☆Chu!!
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lavendertalks311 · 2 days
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Just a little something for husbands birthday, I hope you enjoy.
Warnings: Fluff because I love husband Nanami. Female reader. Pregnant reader. Wife reader. Married reader. Not proofread whoopsies. Nanami x female reader.
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Being kento’s pregnant wife meant many things, including a private life. Not in a secretive manner, he just preferred to keep his life private and away from people’s noses. The less they knew about his loving and precious love, the better for both of you.
He’s attentive and devoted. When Kento is devoted to something, he is devoted. Every morning before work, he left a note either on the bedside table next to you, or in the kitchen counter with a heart, along with his pristine handwriting. He would leave a message letting you know he made breakfast or he’d write something cute for you.
‘I made breakfast for you and our little one. See you after work, darling.”
“My love, I already cannot wait for your embrace after work. See you then, much love.”
After the bustling hours of jujutsu, he’d make his way to a bakery near home to get your favorites. He never once complained or protested, bringing you happiness brought him happiness.
When you were watching tv with your light pink sundress, you heard the front door unlock, revealing the eyes of your ever so loving husband with his usual bag from the bakery in hand.
“Ken!” You called out, immediately rising the best you can to quickly waddle to your lover. When you reached to him, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down to your height as you kissed him gently. “Welcome home!”
He softly smiled, bringing his hands to your growing and swollen belly, softly feeling around it for any kicks as he looked over your form.
“Hello my darlings,” he placed his hand on the small of your back, leading you to the living room. “Come, love. Can’t have you walking with no socks or slippers now, hmm?”
He gently sat you down before placing your slippers on your feet and looked up at you. “Ken! The French toast this morning was amazing, baby and I loved it.”
“I’m glad, I’ll be sure to add that to our list of favorites, hmm?” He asked, grabbing hold of your hands and kissing them softly.
He’s so gentle with you, so loving, he never lets you do anything that’s too much for you to handle. Even going as far as helping you put your slippers on so you didn’t have to bend over to reach for them.
He’s a gentleman, making the bed extra comfortable for you and your little one before bed and leaving extra blankets and a glass of water on the bedtime table if needed overnight. Of course, every time you needed something, he did it without hesitation.
Like I said, when Kento is devoted, he is devoted.
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Super short but it’s something and I think it’s so cute.
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lavendertalks311 · 2 days
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✧ ⁺˳ cw. fem! reader, unprotected, established relationship, mıssionary, praise, brēeding, petnames, mdni.
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nanami who always finds himself in your sheets and between your legs after a long day at work.
“think i want a baby, ‘ken.”
and he took those six simple words personally. nanami’s giving you slow, languid strokes, rolling his hips against yours. he groans at your nails clawing all down his back. as you briefly meet his gaze, you’re met with the most kindest, fawn eyes. all you saw in them were nothing but pools of love with a sprinkle of lust. “oh,” he huskily grunts, hearing the sloshing wet stretch deep into your cunt. he’s stunned for a bit before going deep into imagination. the thought of making your cute tummy all swollen and rounded, it makes him gnaw on his lip like candy.
“my love,” he swallows thickly, a familiar lump forming into the back of his throat. nanami leans into you, his rhythm growing more and more sloppy. you’re jerking back, an ankle of yours sliding down the red lines of his back and he grunts. “c- careful now, might give you more than just one.” and he could have came right then and there—all from relishing in your beauty. he’s never laid his eyes upon anything more pretty.
your knees then get righteously shoved up to your chest. soft, browned eyes flicker at the valley between your breasts before glancing back toward your shimmery spit-slicked lips. you moan, tossing your arms over his shoulders. “i missed my girls,” he groans, stuffing his face between your chest for a moment. your breath immensely hitches at the feeling up him licking a single stripe, still deeply plummeting such inches in and out of your weeping cunt. “they missed me too,” he purrs in a raspy coo, speaking to your tits, and that’s when he latches his plump lips against your perky nipple for a short second. “m-mh.”
the air felt hot — humid, feverish even with each breeze that passes. as warm, kinetic bodies clash against each other at individual hyper strokes, he pries himself off of you. nanami’s jaw tightens so much from your soddened grip that it almost aches. “sweetheart,” he hisses, peering his eyes down to see the milky white ring already coating around his base. it’s probably been hours, hours of you prettily sprawled out for him with your legs open. docile, tawny irises lovingly gaze into you as a thumb of yours strum down his neatly ruffled undercut. “f- fuck, i want you so bad. missed my girl. missed my pussy.”
“she’s missed you too ‘ken,” you pull him into a hot kiss, tasting the mint that lingers on his breath. and as his thrusts grew more sloppy, you whine, feeling his jutting cock kiss against your most sweetest spots. your heart flutters, slithering its way around his waist in a secure lock. “fuck me kento, d- don’t stop, pleaseee.”
“never gonna stop for you, my love,” he huffs, chest heaving in and out. the more he stares at you, the more he falls in love.
through glossed eyes that shimmer with such infatuation—he’s taking in your beauty, your fervor.
nanami loves more than anything to just gawk at you, watching as your eyes droop, your neck crane, and even the way your brows crease into a furrow due to such rapturing pleasure. only he could make you feel this way—you and him both knew that. nobody knew your body like the back of their hand except nanami. your body was his personal canvas, he’s always loved to decorate it and paint it with various, chaste kisses.
to him, you were art. he’s hitting you deep, blurbs and blurbs of whimpers dragging out of your throat until it sounds like inaudible meaningless babbles. so pretty,
repeatedly, the base of his cock perfectly hits against there, leaving you with your jaw hanging open and your entire body being stuck into a limited dimwitted state. he fucks you silly every time, you whimper as a lightening pulse from his cock twitches inside of you, plugging you full.
over and over and over,
nanami blows into your mouth, and you hear a throaty chuckle before he presses yet another wet kiss against your lips. “wanna see you nice ‘n plump s-so bad. gonna give you triplets, my sweet.” and you’re just stupefied, barely a single thought was stored up into your empty, vacant brain. nanami sucks against your bottom lip, still steadily rocking his way into your sloppy cunt. you feel the juncture of his hips mercilessly thrust its way into you raw and you gasp. “right . . here?”
pleasure overtakes you so good that you barely even noticed he was talking to you. you’re too busy moaning your head off and a soft smile pierces against both sides of his lips. a few faint dimples poke against his skin before he grabs your chin. “sweetheaaaart, ‘m talkin’ to you, hey,” and once your eyes meet his mid-thrust, his heart swarms up with love and desire. “there we go. atta girl, yeah. ‘s this spot? this feel good?”
“y- yes,” you whimper, nodding eagerly. he was so big and thick, the prolongated stretch had you drooling. nanami glances at your hand. gingerly bringing it toward his lips, he kisses it, giving it a tender mwah. “kento, ‘m gonna cum a-again.”
“i know, pretty,” he groans, grabbing onto your hand. giving it a firm squeeze. you do the same, interlocking a bundle of fingers with his. his grip was gentle and warm, frantic heartbeat haphazardly picking up speed the more you get a feel of his familiar touch once more. nanami’s always slow with you,
he doesn’t wanna rush this — he hadn’t dreamt of it. already feeling you tighten around him, he invades a strip of your sensitive neck with a plethora of passionate, amorous kisses. “you always taste the same,” and you moan, sobbing cunt gripping down on him so good that it whimpers out a pitchy squelch of its own. his lolled twitching tongue licks against the edge of your shoulder blade once more and your back arches in ecstasy.
he’s never been more in love, with your body arching up backwards at his sweet, sweet hits, you were so close to becoming undone. every pivot of nanami’s hips snap you back to reality before you whine out a needy mewl, tangled digits combing through his unkempt, blond strands. “kento, fuuuuck, ‘m gonna cum.”
“together, my l-love,” his voice falters, and his adam’s apple starts to bob. each delicious thrust of his collapses into your body in such mirroring sync. the rapid, frenzied movements were in complete harmony and beads of running sweat sticks against each skin. nanami gruffly groans, preparing to get milked again, you always did it so so well. squeezing his eyes shut, both broad hands cling onto your hips as he grinds against your core. “c’mon, make a mess on me. ‘m gonna clean you up, promise. give it to me, please.”
your moans were so harmonic, each sound that left your throat coming out to be more elongated. with his cock pounding in and out, he starts to slow his pace down — seeping his teeth into your tender collarbone softly. sharp tips of your fingernails continue to paw at the beefiness of his biceps before within seconds, it happens.
with your lips forming into a lewd circular shape, you’re creaming all down his thickset of a shaft. “kentoooo,” you whine out, feeling your soaked walls clench all around him. he holds you tight, allowing you to form into a puddled mess before he shortly follows. nanami groans, tossing his head forward before a translucent ring bubbles around his heavy base. it comes out in oozing spurts, hot cum pouring into your womb raw.
“ngh, always have me bein’ such a mess for you,” he grunts, pretty arched brows curling up together. nanami sucks at the air, witnessing as your legs grow numb, gluing against his skin. “ah, ‘s gonna be a lot. hold still ‘n take it. take it like a good girl,” and he leans into you, cupping the curvature of your face. “make me proud, baby. thaaaaat’s it. eyes on me, eyes on kento.”
nanami feels a wave of drowsiness dawn over him as he stills himself inside of you. he’s panting right with you, a thumb hooks a strand of hair back toward your face. a school of butterflies flutter inside of you as he’s still dumping a sticky load of velvety thin ropes into your greedy pussy. it’s deeply spewing down alongside of your thighs as you wrap your arms around his neck. “i- i love you ‘ken.”
“i love you more,” he whispers, leaning in to pepper kisses all over your face. he hums at the tiny pout that’s displayed on your lips. you’re underneath him, succumbing into such an orgasmic state that you could barely keep your lashes open. nanami’s not moving anymore but he’s still buried balls deep. a big clammy hand ghosts over your tummy before he nips at your chin. “you’re gonna be such a pretty mommy,” and with a final kiss, you feel him slowly lifting up your leg, tossing it over his shoulder.
and as you gasp, watching him switch positions— nanami then pulls out a wedding ring, sliding it over your bare finger. “but you’d be an even prettier wife.”
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lavendertalks311 · 2 days
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nanami x big ole freak for the people please 🙏
- megan anon
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𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: *smacks and slides hands together* yessirrrr! based on this ask + iconic song by queen Megan
⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Nanami x afab/fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - oral (f! + m! receiving) - fingering (f! receiving) - 69 + cowgirl + mating press positions - slight bondage; restriction of hands - protected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - clitoral play - orgasm denial - pet names ( baby, love, sweetheart) - reader lowhighkey a dom - implied fwb relationship.
⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.4k
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“Yo! Nanami~n, wanna hang out with me and Shoko tonight?”
“No thanks; I have something to get to.” 
“Ehhh, something or someone?” Gojo looks over the shoulder to see his subordinate is on the phone and, by the looks of it, texting another person. “C’mon tell me, is it a guy, girl, a curse—who got the attention of the reserved Mister Nanami Kento?”
“Gojo,” the blonde man shuts his snow-haired superior down while stuffing his phone into his tan suit. “It’s my business; don’t meddle in.” He turns with the sole of his foot and walks away, the whine of the taller other not fazing him.
Gojo snickers to himself while watching his peer stride away. “Wonder who's the lucky one who got that guy to finally live a little…”
It’s known to those around him that Nanami liked to keep to himself, even in matters outside of his work. There’s no need to mix business with pleasure—especially in his line of occupation where there’s no guarantee on the good side of things or fulfilling false promises to people you care about. He’d much rather keep the two separate, going to Jujutsu Tech and taking care of missions in a timely methodology as a grade one sorcerer and wind down in the comfort of his leisure time or home before repeating the process the next day. 
However, tonight would be one of those rare nights where he’d go elsewhere to mellow down…at someone else’s request, such as the person who messaged him to meet at a hotel and the one behind the door he knocks on before it’s opened.
You enter his vision with a grin. “There you are; I almost thought you didn’t get my text.”
“I did,” Nanami took off his goggles and stuffed them in his pockets. “Did you wait long?”
“Too long,” your hands are placed on his chest and slide to his sunken cheeks to cup. “I guess it’s better late than never, but you know I don’t like wasting my time, especially since you’re the one who summoned me.”
He brings a hand to yours to kiss your palm, and chocolate brown eyes pair with a tiny smirk. “Is it too late to make up for my tardy?”
Your smile grows broader with hooded eyes, and your face inches closer to his. “That depends on how fast your fine ass can get inside the damn room,” you whisper before claiming his lips, a spark between you two ignited within milliseconds.
The fair-headed man wastes no time, leading you back inside the hotel room and closing the door with his foot. Hands are instantly roaming each other’s bodies, yours undoing his tie and discarding it with his blazer while he unbuttons your blouse to slide down your shoulders and meet the floor, same with your pencil skirt. With his lips still locked on yours, Nanami gently lies you by the edge of the bed, spreading your stocking legs for more access to hover above you. Lust has your smooches driven for a needier connection, tongues invading each other’s cavity, and your legs wrapping around him as he rocks his hips to your figure.
You’re the first to break the kiss, biting his bottom lip with a tease. He sighs, “Is that fast enough for you?”
He makes you titter. “So attentive, aren’t you? But you know I want more than these nice lips to play with.”
Oh, he knows. Trust and believe, he does. 
“Ahhshhh…! Damn…feel so good, love.”
He throws his head back to the pillow, savoring the sense of your tongue lapping around the crown of his erect cock. His pants were now off of him, you mounted atop him, your ass facing his way while his groin was arranged before your face. 
His view was downright taken over with the sight of your butt and lacy panties swaying from side to side, all the while you were kissing and sucking on the skin of his dick. Your hands move to please him, one stroking his shaft in your grasp while the other fondles his balls with your pretty fingertips.
You suck on his cockhead and release with a soft ‘pop,’ his groan sweet to your eardrums. “Gosh, baby, you sound so pent up,” more licks to his glans jerk his hips, even when the kneads to his scrotum become firmer for the hand on your waist to get tighter. “Loosen up for me; I’ve been craving you like crazy all week...”
“Hnnmm, I can say the same for you, sweetheart,”eyes fixate on your underwear as he slides them to reveal your bare cunt. Seeing a trail of your excitement stick and glisten is no shock. “You seem to be tense yourself,” he brings a forefinger to your labia to lube with your excess fluid, and you hum with a bitten lip as he inserts the digit inside you to wiggle and scrape around. “Feel like it, too.”
“Hooooh,” You don’t hold back a moan—no need when indulging with this man. “Ahhh shit, yess, right there…”
“Yeah? You like this, baby?” He curls the finger with every pull before the push; your wails are too cute not to push for more. “Feels good?”
“Nnmmm…you know what would feel even better?” You peer over your shoulder, your orbs meeting mocha ones as you nudge him with the hit of your toes. “Shutting up and using that handsome face of yours.” Your batted, innocent eyes don’t match the vulgar display of your hips in front of Nanami. Yet he doesn’t scold you, just accepting you with a chuckle while pulling you in. A shiver dances up your spine at the contact of his wet muscle on your chasm, stirs to your clit, and nestling between your folds powers the desire. 
“Ohhh, yesss, just like that, Ken,” you praise before hallow cheeks take in his dick back into your mouth. Muffled sounds of contentment are felt on his cock, and it only pushes him to ravage your sensitive area even more.
However, this is nothing compared to the real deal moments later. 
Nanami knows how much you love to be in control—he’s been with you enough to understand that you’re serious when you need your fix. So, he has no room to refute you when you tie his hands above his head with his necktie and straddle above his lying frame. Yet again, no complaints came from the blonde man. After all, he is the one who has you here in the first place.
He lays on the bed, moaning below as you bounce up and down on his pelvis. For the second time that night, you were riding him down to the point, shrilling euphorically as your hips did the work for your satisfaction. You’re in complete control of the scene: the pace, the speed, the angle, the entire show. 
You lean forward, and the angle and motion of your lower region frequent the presses of your clitoris. “Fuuuhick, ohhhshiiit…!”
Neat golden hair is now untidy; strands cover and stick to his forehead. But that doesn’t obstruct the erotic view of you plunging his length into your aching slit, which has him swallowing thickly with a heated face. “Hnngh! Shit, so tight...”
“Haaaah, ahahaaa, feelin’ good, Kento?” You tease, leaning backward to clamp onto his girth. His dick rubs on the upper wall of your vagina and brushes to your G-spot resulting in your howling. “—Ooohhh, my God, yessss!” There’s no way you wouldn’t be clenching on him like crazy like this!
Makeshift bondage be damned, the man can’t help but buck his pelvis with your movements; the snug of your walls around him are difficult to resist and fuel him to chase the orgasm he’s been wanting all this time, and he can only thank for the condom that shields you from each other’s bare touch—or else his patience would’ve worn thin the round before. 
It’s borderline torture to watch you finger your clit and milk him with his hands bound; he wishes to touch you so badly. And you can see right through him, tittering as you come to a stop and remove yourself from him. He groans at the cold feeling of the air, substituting your warmth. However, that’s changed when you bend to untie his hands and get off his legs.
“C’mon, Kento,” you wet your lips, lying on your back and pulling your legs up. Knees to your chest and your wet cunt instigating an invitation. “Your turn to take care of me.”
God, you were intoxicating, your words making him hot in that dress shirt of his. That’s why he sighs with a scoff as he unbuttons to let his chest and abdomen breathe, aligning his length to join you again.
“I’ll do just that, love.”
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© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.
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lavendertalks311 · 3 days
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The prophecy - Gojo Satoru
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summary: Gojo Satoru knew he was the strongest, he perfectly knew. But that didn’t mean he didn’t cry and that night while everyone still preparing to fight Sukuna, he cried. He cried because he felt completely alone and only seen as a weapon
paring: Gojo Satoru x gn!reader
tags: angst, canon universe, manga spoilers, Gojo centric, lyrics, fluff, mutual feeling, no use of y/n, Gojo thinks reader hates him, open up for a second part.
note: i wrote this some time ago and never actually posted, everything i have to say is that I love Gojo Satoru so much and i miss him like crazy. If y’all like it I could write a second part and explore more about this pair, but this part is mainly focused on Gojo’s character
words: 1,7k
Jujutsu Kaisen materialist
“I’ve been on my knees, change the prophecy”
Gojo Satoru only cried four times in his life. The first time he was 5 years old and he wanted to learn to ride a bicycle, but he fell to his knees and bled. The elders of the clan and his parents always told him that he should not cry and that he should be strong, but that day when he got to his room he cried hugging his favorite puppet. 
The second time was when he was 17 years old, Suguru had left and he didn't understand why, again he cried alone in his room wondering if he could have done more for the one who was once his best friend. 
The third time he was 27 years old, it was after killing Suguru, he stood there statically looking at the lifeless body of his old friend and let the tears run down his cheeks. 
The last time was now, when he was 29 years old. And once again he was alone.
He always wondered if his whole life was already written, if there was a prophecy that said that he who possessed six eyes and limitless was destined to always be alone. That was the burden he had to bear for being “the strongest.” 
He wondered if he would be able to change jujutsu society and thus change everything. That if someone in 100, 300 or who knows when had the same powers as him again, they would not have to be alone, that they would not have all that burden from the moment of birth.
Satoru was born with a price on his head, he was used by the higher ups since he was 15 and now he was facing what could be his last battle and ironically if he died they will continue to use him as what they have always made him believe he is. A weapon.
Satoru did not mind dedicating his life to exorcising curses, in fact he liked it and they satisfied him, especially if they were of a high level. But he wanted to stop being alone, he wanted to stop being seen as the strongest, as a weapon to use.
When the idea was proposed to him, the first thing he thought about was what would happen to Yuta. He knew that Yuta could only replicate the techniques for 5 minutes and then he lost them. In the best case scenario, he would return to his original body, right? The second thing he thought was that it wouldn't be necessary, and he was prepared to beat Sukuna, he wasn't going to lose. And the last thing he thought was that he would once again be used.
Now there he was in his room, alone, crying because he just didn’t feel like anyone really cared about him. Why didn’t Shoko object? Why didn’t anyone object to the idea? 
He sighed and throw himself to the bed, looking up to the ceiling of his bedroom, preventing his tears from falling down. 
“Don’t want money, just someone who wants my company”
The door opened letting in light from the hallway, Satoru did not move, he knew the cursed energy immediately. He let you come in and sit on the bed a little away from him.
“I think it’s an awful and dehumanizing plan.” You said.
Satoru chuckled, holding his tears, the room was dark but still he didn’t want you to see him crying. “Can’t believe you are the one standing for me.”
“Don’t get over your head Gojo and besides one of your kids, Yuta also stood for you.” You said. “And I’m pretty sure Shoko hates the idea but believes in you more than anyone else.”
“Really?” He whisked.
“You don’t think like that?” 
“Well…” He sighed. “After feeling all my life used as a weapon by this cracked society, I wasn’t surprised if people were willing to use me as a weapon even after my death.” 
You fell silent, processing Satoru’s words. “Satoru…” He hummed. “You feel lonely?” 
Satoru turned his face towards you, thanks to his six eyes he was able to see you clearly. And why were you crying? You off all the people? You who hated his guts? Why?
“Why are you crying?” Satoru inquired and you wiped your tears away.
“I’m not crying and besides it’s dark you can’t know.”
“I have the six eyes, I see everything.” 
“I doubt…” You whispered.
“What?” Satoru stood up and moved closer to you.
“Nothing.” You tried to avoid him. “Do you like plan B? Be honest.” 
“To be honest, I don’t know.” He sighed. “If I lose… that might be the only way to kill Sukuna and bring Megumi back but I’m worried about Yuta, it would be awful for him to get stock on this body, although I’m pretty handsome.”
“You are not serious.”
Satoru chuckled. “But for real, if that’s the only way… then it’s okay.”
“But it’s not.” You said. “You want to be used as a puppet? As a weapon?!” 
Why were you so sad? So angry?
“All my life it’s been like that, it’s like a prophecy and maybe if I let them use me one more time maybe I can redo that prophecy, so no one else has to go through what I, we went as kids.” 
You stood up from the bed and walked away from it. “I hate you…” You whispered but still Satoru was able to hear you.
“I know you always say how…”
“No.” You shook your head next to the window. “For you to have the six eyes, you’re pretty blind you know?” You chuckled. “You once said that you had the theory that love is the most twisted curse right? Well you were right.” You laughed. “Love really consumes you, especially when the person you love won’t look at you the way you want them to look at you.”
Satoru's heart started to rise with each one of the words you were speaking. He was still confused and overwhelmed by what you were saying.
“It’s funny right?” You said once again. “I’m such a coward and selfish person, silent for over 10 years and now that you are about to face the greatest threat of your life I’m here, making everything about me and my feelings.” You look down. “Please Satoru, let someone assist you during the fight, let me assist you.” You were on the edge of tears. “I’m also a special grade, my kitsune fire technique could help…”
“I work better alone.” He cut you off. 
A silence fell between you too and your nails dug into your palm, causing small wounds. “That’s what everyone has always told you.” You whispered. “But you don’t have to be alone. You don’t have to hold all that weight alone.” 
“Who do I have to speak to, about if they can redo the prophecy?”
Satoru took a deep breath and with a shaky voice, spoke. “I’m the strongest, it’s what I must do, so everyone is okay, so everyone can…”
“Stop with that Satoru! Stop…” You throw your hands to the air. “What about you? I don’t want you to die Satoru, I don’t want you to be used as a puppet.”
“Enough.” He said your name in a whisper. “The decision has been made, I don’t care.” He stood up and walked towards the door.
“You do care…” You whispered. “Because then why would you be crying here, alone?” You walked. “Hiding all your burdens, all your pain for just yourself. Why?” 
Satoru stopped himself and tried to catch his breath but it seemed like the room was running out of air. You walked to him and took his hand on yours and rested your forehead on his back.
“I’m here Satoru…” You whispered against his back.
You felt his grip tighten around your hand and you held onto him tightly as well, letting him know that you were there.
“What should I do?” He whispered.
You stayed silent for a moment and then spoke. “What if you do a binding vow? Just in case Sukuna…” You were unable to say those words.
“A binding vow…”
You nodded against his back. “I know that for it you need to give up something and you probably won’t want to give up what I’m about to suggest…”
“I will.” He turned to look at you. “You suggest that I give up the six eyes, to come back alive.” You nodded. “I will do it.” 
You felt like crying. “Good…” 
Satoru smirked and kissed your forehead. “Thank you…”
“I hope you don’t have to lose it…” You whispered. “I hope you kill Sukuna off and you come back to us, to me.” You whispered the last part.
Satoru hugged in a hug that almost hurt, but that you knew that the both of you needed. 
“It’s late, I should…” 
Satoru didn’t let you move. “Stay…” You froze, not sure what to say or what to do. “You said I never looked at you the way you wished, but…” Your heart started to pump in your chest, you could almost hear it in your ears. “Stay with me tonight, pretend like I’m yours for tonight and let me pretend like you are mine.”
You swallowed and hugged him back. “I don’t want to pretend.”
He giggled with a sad tone. “You will have to wait…” He whispered.
You thighed the grip, not wanting to let him go, afraid of him leaving. “Have you been sleeping?” You whispered.
Satoru shook his head. “Badly… really badly.” 
You caressed his back gently. "Try to sleep." You said and he responded humming. “I hope you can break that prophecy, Satoru.” You whispered and Satoru wrapped his arms around you tighter. 
Satoru hid his face on your neck and in silence he also hoped for that, he hoped to return alive and to be able to finally have someone besides him. To be loved and to be cherished. He hoped he didn’t have to beg anymore and no one else in the future needed to go through what he went through. 
That no was seen as a weapon for the Jujutsu world and their youth was never taken from them. 
Satoru Gojo just hoped for that, for the prophecy to stop, to break. To be happy with those he loved.
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lavendertalks311 · 3 days
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Sneak peak of a Gojo x Reader that I am working on :)
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pairing: Gojo Satoru x f!reader
Summary: Mechmaru manages to succeed in informing the higher ups of Jujutsu Tech about the plans of the "Night Parade of 100 Demons" and the sealing of Gojo Satoru. With this, the higher ups begin formulating a plan on how to secure their victory and take advantage of the information bestowed to them. However one thing Gojo could not have thought to be suggested was, you, who supposedly died almost a decade ago.
warnings: Takes place before the Shibuya incident arc. Does not follow the original plot of the series teehee.
word count: 716
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"A sorcerer that's able to amplify the cursed techniques of others? Something like that is possible?"
Itadori Yuji's eyebrows furrowed as he voiced his question, contemplating the words that Yaga had just spoken to the assembled group of Jujutsu students and sorcerers.
The atmosphere in the meeting room was tense and undeniably suffocating. It had been hours since Mechumaru's warning had been delivered. A plan to seal away the strongest sorcerer, Gojo Satoru, into the prison realm and to bring upon complete and utter chaos to Shibuya and its civilians on October 31st.
Those gathered in the room were fully aware of how crucial this advantage was and how important it was to utilize it. However, there was also a mutual understanding that the perpetrators had to also be aware of their own disadvantage, and would have to find some way to compensate for their slip up.
This brought an endless amount of "what if's" into question.
"Yes. Someone like that exists with such a technique. The ability to not only limitlessly amplify their own raw cursed energy but to amplify the cursed energy and furthermore the techniques used by anyone they come into contact with" Yaga responds to Itadori's question.
"What if we just simply don't send in Gojo-Sensei into Shibuya?" Itadori then says with a carelessness as if it's the most obvious answer in the world. "If that person can amplify their own energy limitlessly, don't we basically have our own super soldier who can overpower anyone alone?"
It is then Megumi who cuts in with a calm rebuttal, his eyes narrowing slightly. "It's not about having unlimited energy, Itadori. There are inherent limitations to such abilities. Even for someone who can amplify cursed energy, there's a threshold to how much they can sustain. Using cursed energy at such heightened levels consecutively poses significant risks and exacts a toll on the user."
Yaga sends a slight nod in Megumis direction, confirming the information he shared with Itadori. "It is also unlikely our perpetrators will reveal themselves unless Satoru is present. Rushing in prematurely not only risks escalating the danger but also endangers innocent civilians, who could become casualties as means to negotiate Satoru's presence." "We however are getting ahead of ourselves," Yaga then continued, redirecting the focus "We have yet to establish contact with this sorcerer".
Gojo had been uncharacteristically silent amidst this discussion despite it heavily revolving around him. Between the relentless back and forth of his peers and students who each were chiming in with questions, wonders and suggestions - he sat in his chair, arms crossed, leaned back and sporting an expression that no one other than Shoko leiri could understand. Her tired eyes fell onto the snow-haired man, noticing his stiffness and unusual quietness. She too understood where this conversation was headed and what words were about to be announced. "Some of you already know who I am talking about. Yes. (L/N), (Y/N). A past student here at Jujutsu Tech, who was once presumed dead, has been rumored to be alive," Yaga finally discloses, his tone laced a certain firmness. "And over the course of several years, we have finally managed to narrow down her general whereabouts". Satoru felt his jaw clench ever so slightly. Shoko notices. "If we wish to minimize casualties and maximize our strength- It is crucial that we locate her and attempt to persuade her to join our cause" Yaga continues with determination.
Chatter began to fill the room as Yaga takes a pause. The topic at hand brought upon several mixed reactions. Rumors in the form of hushed words floated around the room, some true some false as some even questioned who you were and how you met your demise.
But all Satoru could hear was your name. Repeated. Over and over. "However," Yaga broke the silence once more, his voice cutting through the room, "we can't just send anyone to convince her. We suspect there is a veil with special conditions where she resides."
Satoru's teeth grits, and his fingers dig into his sleeves ever so slightly. "Only Special Graded Sorcerers can enter and leave the veil as they please. Though this won't affect the plan I originally wanted to propose."
"There is only one person we can send in after her." "Satoru."
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(A/N): Listen I haven't been on this platform in like 2 years, and it's been 2 years since i've written anything so please do forgive me for any mistakes ;w; Hoping I can finish writing this soon!! Hope you enjoyed!!
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lavendertalks311 · 3 days
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Just a little something for husbands birthday, I hope you enjoy.
Warnings: Fluff because I love husband Nanami. Female reader. Pregnant reader. Wife reader. Married reader. Not proofread whoopsies. Nanami x female reader.
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Being kento’s pregnant wife meant many things, including a private life. Not in a secretive manner, he just preferred to keep his life private and away from people’s noses. The less they knew about his loving and precious love, the better for both of you.
He’s attentive and devoted. When Kento is devoted to something, he is devoted. Every morning before work, he left a note either on the bedside table next to you, or in the kitchen counter with a heart, along with his pristine handwriting. He would leave a message letting you know he made breakfast or he’d write something cute for you.
‘I made breakfast for you and our little one. See you after work, darling.”
“My love, I already cannot wait for your embrace after work. See you then, much love.”
After the bustling hours of jujutsu, he’d make his way to a bakery near home to get your favorites. He never once complained or protested, bringing you happiness brought him happiness.
When you were watching tv with your light pink sundress, you heard the front door unlock, revealing the eyes of your ever so loving husband with his usual bag from the bakery in hand.
“Ken!” You called out, immediately rising the best you can to quickly waddle to your lover. When you reached to him, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down to your height as you kissed him gently. “Welcome home!”
He softly smiled, bringing his hands to your growing and swollen belly, softly feeling around it for any kicks as he looked over your form.
“Hello my darlings,” he placed his hand on the small of your back, leading you to the living room. “Come, love. Can’t have you walking with no socks or slippers now, hmm?”
He gently sat you down before placing your slippers on your feet and looked up at you. “Ken! The French toast this morning was amazing, baby and I loved it.”
“I’m glad, I’ll be sure to add that to our list of favorites, hmm?” He asked, grabbing hold of your hands and kissing them softly.
He’s so gentle with you, so loving, he never lets you do anything that’s too much for you to handle. Even going as far as helping you put your slippers on so you didn’t have to bend over to reach for them.
He’s a gentleman, making the bed extra comfortable for you and your little one before bed and leaving extra blankets and a glass of water on the bedtime table if needed overnight. Of course, every time you needed something, he did it without hesitation.
Like I said, when Kento is devoted, he is devoted.
———————————————————————————-
Super short but it’s something and I think it’s so cute.
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lavendertalks311 · 3 days
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Watching Nanami put on his suit was mesmerizing but what was even better was when he would take it off.
He always stood in front of his bedroom mirror, and like a routine would start with his watch. Thick fingers running over the rim of the clock, down to the clasp. Placing it neatly on his shelf, along with the others in his collection.
He lets his suit jacket slowly fall off his broad shoulders, finally looking back at you, catching you staring. You always sat on the bed, looking all pretty for him. Your pupils expand at the handsome sight before you causing a chuckle to escape his thin lips as he decides to give you a show. He reaches back to unclasp his brown harness that carries his dull blade, your jaw and the harness both dropping in unison.
His eyes gleam with amusement as he continues, he slowly unbuttons the cuffs of his blue dress shirt, exposing the veins that run from his hands up to his muscular arms. Nanami could almost swear he sees your eyes turn heart-shaped as begins unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his toned and muscular torso.
He shrugs it to the floor, his hands leading down to his belt. Your attention falling upon his hard-on. Oh how Nanami was enjoying this and he knows for a fact you are too. The sexual tension builds up steadily, as he notices you clench your thighs together at the mere sight of his half naked body.
With a slow, deliberate motion, he unbuckles the expensive leather belt and allows it to slide through the loops of his pants. He drops it to the floor again, joining his other articles of clothing, and takes a step closer to you, his erection standing proudly between you.
He takes your hand, pressing a chaste to it as he wraps his hand around your wrist. Starting at his chest, he guides your hand down his abs, stopping just right before his dress pants.
“Why don't you help me with the rest, honey?”
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lavendertalks311 · 3 days
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Decorated - Nanami Kento x Reader
Nanami’s favorite store at the mall is Zales. He goes what seems like an exorbitant amount, and you humor him by giving him all of your mall-based errands because you hate how many people are always there. It’s an easy trade; he does your shopping so you don’t have to, and he gets to look at all the pretty, shiny things he can decorate you in.
Almost every time you send him to the mall, he comes back with something new.
His favorite is necklaces; he loves the way the soft gems lay against your décolletage, and how you can match your collection to your outfits or to your eyes. You mix and match them together like a gemstone bouquet just to always top it off with the soft K initial necklace he got you when you first started dating, and he always ends up staring at your neckline all evening. You blush and tell him it looks like he’s staring at your tits, but he just shrugs it off, unable to ignore the way the shiny accoutrement glitter in the sunlight or the moonlight or the candlelight.
Of course, he couldn’t leave you with just that, so he started adding earrings to the mix, matching them to the overwhelming number of necklaces he’d given you. Some of the earrings are small studs that you wear every day, switching them out to change up the look. Nanami preferred the dangling ones you wore when you’d go out with him, though; he loved the way they elongated your neck and brought his eyes to your soft hairline and the gentle curvature of your shoulder. Sometimes, when you’d laugh at a joke or smile unabashedly at him, your teeth and your earrings would glint the same way, and his heart would stop a little at the beautiful display.
You have a soft tennis bracelet that matches the band on his watch, and it’s delicately engraved with your dating anniversary. He gifted it to you on a random Wednesday after you had sent him for a gift for your boss’s retirement, and it left you breathless and teary-eyed in the kitchen where he so casually placed it for you. A few weeks later, he showed up with a matching anklet. He loves the way it so delicately drapes against the skin there, catching on the bone, as your foot haphazardly hangs on his shoulder when you’re intimate. Every time he presses deep into you, it makes a soft jingling noise right by his ear that shocks his spine, and it sounds like a reminder again and again that you are his. Only his.
It was random when the routine changed. There didn’t seem to be a rhyme or reason for it. You sent him to the mall for a present for your mother, and when he came back, he handed you the bag with her gift, exactly what you asked of him. You sat at the counter, your hand outstretched and waiting for the jewelry he always always brings home.
But he just brushed past you, pulling his tie off as he walked into your shared bedroom and confirming the time of the dinner reservations he made that evening. You furrowed your brow, confused and admittedly a little hurt, but you knew making a big deal out of it would make it seem like you expected these gifts now. It wouldn’t seem very appreciative of just how much he has already spent to decorate you. It would come off very superficial and very bitchy you tell yourself, so you shake it off and call back to him that you’ll be ready for dinner within the hour.
To be honest, Nanami could have handled it better, calming the anxiety you felt at his behavior change, if he wasn’t wildly panicking himself. Of course, he had still picked you up a small, shiny gift during his short mall trip, one that had been in the planning stages for a very long time, and it was sitting, unassuming, in his pocket at that exact moment, but he was trying to keep it a secret. Unfortunately for him, he was sure that you had seen the outline of the ring box in his pocket, he was sure you were suspicious about the romantic dinner he had planned, and he was sure that he had ruined the surprise proposal he was preparing for later that night.
Any worry that you had caught onto his plan disappeared, though, when he saw the shocked shimmer in your eye as he knelt in front of you. It was immediately replaced with joy as you nodded, cutting him off with your adamant yes, yes, yes, and throwing yourself into his arms.
He was the one to remember to actually put the ring on your finger, adding it to the ever-growing collection of shiny gifts he was happy to keep giving you for the rest of your lives.
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lavendertalks311 · 4 days
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"red"
MDNI, very suggestive content
satoru gojo x singer!reader
Synopsis: utahime brings satoru and shoko to a bar to watch her friend perform, and satoru is immediately whipped for you the moment you step on stage. utahime warns him, however, not to get close to you, but how could he refuse the way you look at him?
to sum it up: you have a strong effect on men, satoru included, and despite the stories utahime tells him about you, you match other's freak
WC: 15,482
Warning(s): smut smut smut, unprotected sex, dom/switch, vulgar language,
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happy 500 followers!! thank you all so much for your love and support, you're all amazing. i can't believe there are already half a thousand of you. here is my gift to you and i hope you enjoy <3
-
The moment Utahime proposed going out to see her friend perform at a grungy bar smack in the middle of the city, Satoru was incredibly skeptical. Normally, the white haired sorcerer was left in charge of staff outings since, according to him, he had the most creativity out of the group of professors that trekked out into the late night after long, grueling weeks of training their students. 
It was a good thing he took charge of their activities, too, since everyone else’s suggestions were always so boring. Nanami’s idea of an entertaining night out wasn’t even to actually go out, but to stay indoors with a cup of tea and a newspaper cracked open over his lap. Yaga tended to lean toward artistic outings, such as pottery barns or knitting classes, solely due to the bias of his cursed technique. Ichiji hardly ever even made any suggestions himself, often allowing other opinions to overpower his own to the point where he didn’t even want to bother chiming in. Shoko only really wanted to visit anywhere that allowed her to drink and smoke, so she wasn’t much of a problem. And Mei Mei, well, Satoru hardly knew what the hell motivated Mei Mei’s interests aside from some means to winning money, and he was never too keen on allowing her rather questionable interests to lead the group out.
While everyone liked to complain when Satoru dragged them along to engage in the things he wanted to do, they normally all ended up enjoying themselves by the time the night was over. Even Utahime, who would have stepped freely into oncoming traffic before admitting that Satoru’s suggestion that she would initially turn her nose up at the beginning of the night brought a smile to her face by the middle of the evening. He had a knack for these kinds of things, bringing his colleagues together socially in the best ways he deemed how.
Nevertheless, the indigo haired woman pushed her luck enough to finally let Satoru relent his control for one single evening when she groaned on and on about how she refused to miss the performance of some woman she hadn’t even bothered to mention until now. Satoru only did so for the sake of gloating purposes in case this so-called friend of hers turned out to be far less engaging than Utahime claimed. He determined that she wouldn’t hear the end of it for as long as the two of them kept in contact from this night going forward.
Tonight, the group had narrowed down to a select few as well. Mei Mei thankfully had duties to attend to elsewhere, Ichiji had to babysit his niece, and Nanami downright turned down the evening completely, leaving only him, Shoko, and Utahime alone to attend this mystery friend’s show. 
Utahime had in fact begged Satoru not to tag along once she realized that so few people would be coming and she was not entirely fond of him impeding on what could have been girl time with Ieiri, but he persisted, assuring her that he would be delighted to tag along to see what all the fuss was about. Utahime was horrified, to say the least, but she knew that once Satoru had decided upon involving himself in something, there was no way of turning him elsewhere. 
So the three professors trekked on that Friday evening, pushing through busy crowds of people until they approached what Satoru could only describe as a hole in the wall smack in the middle of a row of shops and restaurants. It was a small brick building with a hazy led sign spelling out what he assumed to be the name of the establishment with narrow black doors and the scent of liquor tingling the air as people walked in and out. It was clearly a busy and popular place, well worn by the years and buzzing with visitors. He could hear the overlapping chatter of hundreds through the walls from the outside, loud laughter, the scraping of seats against hardwood floors, and the clinking of beer bottles and flasks. 
This wasn’t exactly the type of place he had expected Utahime to take interest in, leading him to only grow more curious about who exactly they were about to see inside this enticing little building.
“This is it?” Shoko asked coolly, twisting her cigarette over to the other side of her mouth as her brown eyes examined the outside.
Utahime hummed, double checking her phone screen displaying a text bubble with an address that she had been following. “Yeah, I guess it is,” she nodded, looking back up.
“Huh,” Satoru said, scratching the back of his head as he examined the spot along with the two women beside him. “Didn’t peg you for the grungy type, Utahime,” he teased. The said woman gritted her teeth, tossing a glare over her shoulder through the side of her eye. 
“What the hell do you know about my interests?” she hissed.
Satoru smiled, shrugging. He took the first steps toward the door, grinning smugly at Utahime as he brushed past her. “Enough to know that you’ve always been too much of a goody-two-shoes to come somewhere like here all by yourself.”
Utahime growled, clenching her phone tighter within her grasp as Satoru pushed the door open, the noisiness of the inside immediately blaring out into the atmosphere. 
“After you,” he smirked, her eyes twitching.
Shoko patted the woman’s shoulder softly before making her way inside. “Don’t let this idiot sway you with his nonsense, Hime,” she advised with a light smile. “You don’t want him to win, do you?”
That question was enough to get Utahime to straighten herself up, following suit behind the brunette. “Like hell I do,” she grumbled. Satoru snickered, letting the door swing closed behind him once they all made it inside.
Satoru had been right about his earlier observation. It was absolutely packed inside, the space much larger than it looked from standing before the exterior. A series of occupied tables took up the majority of the space, where customers sat and talked vividly, surfaces cluttered by bottles of finished and unfinished alcohol. On the left side of the room, the bar resided with crowds swarming the countertops.
The atmosphere was so dark. If Satoru hadn’t been gifted with his six eyes, he likely would have had to squint to find his way through the dimness. The space was illuminated in a lazy, red glow, specs of golden spouting from the bar for the sake of the bartenders and low hanging lamps swinging over the tables. 
At the very front of the room was a small stage, concealed by a thick velvet curtain. A few men dressed in black stood at the floor chattering amongst themselves and gesturing above, likely in charge of managing the performers or the stage functions. 
“Well, look at you, Utahime,” Shoko patted the woman on the back enthusiastically, the trio standing at the entrance. “You got some spunk in you.”
“It’s not me, it's (Y/n),” the hazelnut eyed woman rolled her eyes. “She’s the one performing at these places.”
“Then you must have some sick friends we don’t know about.”
“And to think, I had no idea you had any friends outside of your colleagues,” Satoru chimed in, inspiring a vein to bulge in Utahime’s forehead. “So, where is this ‘friend’ of yours? I’m starting to think she isn’t even real.”
“Shut up, Gojo! She’s real!” the sorcerer barked. “She told me her performance slot was at ten. That’s in five minutes.”
“We’d better grab a seat then, huh?”
“She said she had the manager save us one up front. I guess we should go check it out.”
“You guys go ahead,” Ieiri waved her hand. “I’m gonna grab a drink. You want?”
“Nah. You know how I get, so no alcohol for Satoru. But here,” Satoru stopped her with his hand on her shoulder. He dug into the pocket of his pants and handed her his wallet. “Go crazy. The black one’s unlimited.”
Shoko quirked a mischievous brow, snatching the leather wallet between her index and middle finger. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Satoru,” she said. “Utahime? Anything?”
“Just surprise me. I’ll need something to get through being out with this idiot.”
Satoru grinned playfully and Shoko nodded before walking off. 
Utahime clicked her tongue, dissatisfied with the fact that she was left alone with the man next to her. Satoru immediately detected her displeasure and smiled, leaning over her shoulder and gesturing his arm forward. “Lead the way.”
“Get away from me.”
Upon spotting a vacant table to the far left in front of the stage, Utahime took the lead as she shuffled awkwardly through the cramped pathways to make her way to the seat. Once the two made it, she spoke shortly with the man standing guard nearby to tell him that she was the expected visitor in which this seat had been reserved for. The man backed off accordingly, recognizing her face from the description he must have been given beforehand. 
The two sorcerers sat down across from each other, Satoru leaning back in his wooden seat with a contented exhalation. “This is a nice change of pace,” he said. 
“If you’re mocking me, quit it. (Y/n) is very talented and I wouldn’t come here if I didn’t think it would be worth it.”
“About that. I’ve been meaning to ask. Why are we hearing about this (Y/n) person now, all of a sudden? You’ve never mentioned her before.”
“Because she’s a human being with her own line of work separate from sorcery. There’s no need to bring her up when we’re on duty. We all have personal lives,” Utahime spoke flatly, fiddling with her purse with her gaze down and brows angled with irritation.
“But she’s human and she knows about you somehow?” Satoru tilted his head.
“She has an idea of the weird things that go on around this country, if that’s what you mean,” Iori sighed. “Even so, none of it concerns her. She’s got nothing to do with any of this stuff.”
“Where do you know her from?”
“God, you’re so nosy,” Utahime scrunched her nose. She hung her bag by its strap over the back of her chair and leaned back. “We’re old friends, that’s all.”
“‘Old friends?’ Why so vague, Utahime?” the blue eyed man pried, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’m just curious to know about who we’ll be watching, that’s all.”
“Your motives are never that simple. You can shut up and watch without knowing her entire life’s story.”
“Okay. Touchy.”
Utahime grinded her teeth together. “So help me, Gojo, if you don’t behave tonight I’m ripping your hair out in your sleep, strand by strand.”
Satoru gasped dramatically, hands flying to his snowing locks fuzzy with misty dust of red casted down upon him by the ambience. “What?! No! Not my beautiful hair,” he pouted. “You’re so mean to me…”
“I’d hope so.”
Satoru threw his arm over the back of his seat. The lights suddenly flared lethargically, blinking between darkness and red to signify the commencement of a performance. Satoru noticed the way Utahime shifted in her seat immediately, turning her attention upward with a gentle smile reaching her features. Satoru followed her gaze and looked up, supposing that he’d see for himself what all the fuss was about.
The lights finally melted into darkness, blocking out the sea of tables in inky blackness with the only light provided now by the stage. Footsteps came into Satoru’s earshot, and he turned to find Shoko squeezing her way over to them, two drinks and his wallet somehow cradled in her arms. She plopped into the empty seat between Utahime and Satoru with a huff, leaning her body over to set the drinks down carefully. The brunette slid Satoru’s wallet over to him across the table. 
“I’ll come back for that later,” she whispered, and Gojo snorted, tucking it away. 
A short man with a scruffy beard climbed his way onto the stage from the steps on the far right, a microphone in hand. He stood before the curtain at the edge of the platform, waiting for the chatter to completely die down before he spoke.
“Good evenin’, everyone. Hope we’re all havin’ a good night.”
A few straggling hollers of excitement and a symphony of claps resounded throughout the space in response. Satoru took the opportunity to clap loudly along with everyone else, Utahime shielding her face with her hand in embarrassment.
“Alright, that’s what I like to hear,” the man nodded, grin widening. “Now, I ain’t gonna stand here long. I know what you’re all here for. So just remember to keep your damn ringers off during the performance. That shit gets distracting for our singer. And if you’re already wasted, which I can already tell most of you are-” a few laughs jump out from the crowd. “-don’t go tryin’ to climb onto stage to join her either. I know how some of you can get. Yeah, I’m lookin’ at you in the back.”
Satoru found the statement strange, to say the least. Utahime’s friend must have been incredibly popular within this establishment to spark the kind of attention that inspired men to try to get onto stage with her. Then again, looking around at the crowd, he couldn’t say that he expected much decorum from them. 
“Alright, I’m done talkin’. Here she comes folks. You know her, you love her, she makes you wanna risk leavin’ the wife, our very own (Y/n) (L/n)!”
The crowd roared, the very mention of your name enough to bring a few intoxicated stragglers to their feet, cupping their hands around their mouths to whistle and shout for your entrance. 
Satoru watched carefully as the announcer left the stage, admittedly intrigued. The overhead stage lights softened, isolating a single spotlight that glared against the ridges in the curtain. The surrounding atmosphere up there mellowed into sultry hues of purple and blue, complementing the recurring overarching red that sank over the space.
The curtains pulled back with a squeak, and there you were.
The white haired man’s brows lifted slowly, subconsciously, when the sight of you revealed itself like a gift on display after a tauntingly slow drag of a satin ribbon between pinched fingers.
You stood beneath the light, fingers clutching the handle of the microphone stand. Your shoulders curved with passion, body hunched into the circular ring around the speaker as though you were drawn to it like it was a piece of you. Your eyes were closed, dark lashes coated with tiny specs of gold from your eyeshadow dusting your smooth cheeks. Your lips, glossed sinfully red, grazed your mic as you took in deep breaths that expanded your bare chest, sweat or glitter glimmering over the shiny (s/c) skin of your collarbone and shoulders, twinkling beneath the overhead beam. 
Adorned over your figure was a tight satin dress that accentuated every detail of your body, gliding over the curves of your hips and hugging your waist generously, cutting off over your thighs. Incredibly sheer tights ran over your smooth legs and down to your feet, snug in a pair of shiny heels you wore all too comfortably. 
“Holy shit,” Satoru heard Shoko whisper. “That’s (Y/n)?”
Utahime hummed in affirmation. “Yes, it is.”
“She’s fucking hot.”
Satoru couldn’t have agreed more. You were more than hot, you were unnaturally, criminally gorgeous. You stood on that stage, soaking in the all the praise that this dive had to offer as if you had done so a million times over, your air of confidence capturing you in a sultry glow complemented by the way those red lights submerged into your aura like smooth molasses milking into cake batter.
Delicately, you opened your eyes, revealing the maroon glint of your (e/c) irises as they danced over the room warmly. Your lips pressed together into a smooth, seductive smile, reading the room and your audience and what they wanted from you, and you catered simply with the look in your eye and the smallest tilt of your enticing, blood red lips. 
Satoru couldn’t look away. You had grabbed his attention, fully, easily. 
The warbled blare of a saxophone brought Satoru’s attention to the small band of instruments he had failed to register behind you when the curtains first pulled away. A large man worked his fingers over the instrument beside a sleek black piano that eventually trickled with a flirtatious flutter into the saxophone’s accompaniment. The commotion within the crowd died down as the music rose gradually, tenderly.
You swayed slowly to the lazy melody, tapping your fingers against the mic handle. Your heel tapped against the floor and your hips, fuck your hips, swung gently with the will of the music. All the amusement Satoru once harbored had completely drained from his body. He felt suddenly earnest, consumed by the sight of you complemented by the symphony that followed, and he watched eagerly in anticipation for your lips to part, for sound to fly from your mouth. He awaited your voice with a sense of severity, face blank, eyes slightly wide. 
As though he had summoned it, a rich note dragged through the air, deep, earthy, vibrating with soul and captivating ardor. The tune ripped through his ears, floating into the atmosphere like a dove gliding its wings through the air, touching the surface of water and rippling waves. It took several moments before Satoru realized that this blissful sound was coming from you. Your lips puckered ever so gently, brows angling as the space between your lips released the most hypnotizing vibrato he had ever heard in his life. 
Chills crawled down his spine from the back of his neck as your voice nearly blended into the glide of the saxophone, slippery yet controlled and achingly sensual. You sang so effortlessly, tone mature and impassioned by your engrossed facial contortions and the subtle movements of your body. Whoops jumped into the air, followed by more claps from stunned listeners, and Satoru couldn’t decide whether he wanted to join them in rejoicing over you or turn around to tell them all to shut the fuck up so he could hear you more clearly.
He was lucky to be so close, watching you within near proximity as your lids lowered over your eyes then lifted with each note and lyric you sang, head turning and face scrunching accordingly. You were so physically reactive to your own voice, to the words that left you, to the people watching and the space you resided. You filled the room with your presence, capturing the building with your intoxicating charm. Your voice was as sexy as you were, and you sang and moved slowly enough for Satoru to take note of every detail. 
The sorcerer sat there hypnotized, dizzy from you. He couldn’t even be bothered with turning to look at Shoko or Utahime to see what they were thinking, but due to their rather stiff silence, he assumed that they were in the exact same boat as him and everyone else within the room.
After a minute or so of sluggish bliss, the pianist shifted the tone of the music and played something bright and mischievous. The saxophone quickly adapted, slurring into the uplifted beat. The crowd reacted swiftly and your crimson lips spread to reveal your shiny white teeth, a grin devilish enough to feel as though Satoru wasn’t supposed to be looking. 
Your jaw dropped to ease out a loud, booming note that sparked the bar into an uproar, your leg lifting and curving over the mic stand. You leaned forward, pressed the bar into your figure as you allowed that inhumane note to drift yourself forward with a tilted chin as you gaze over the crowd over your nose with those feline, hazy eyes. 
Satoru’s eyes gawked over the shimmer of your thin stalkings when you raised your thigh up, the hem of your dress teasing the lace cutoff that cupped over the upper flesh. 
Then, you stood back upward, yanking the mic from the stand to strut downstage, wiring dragging in your wake. You crouched down, voice fluttering handsomely through the speakers with your simultaneous and sudden engagement with those below center. You sang as though you were speaking to individual audience members, knees bent and arm dangled over them, head craning as your eyes isolated everyone, face by face. 
A shout of your name jumped out as you looked around, and you loved it, responding with a playful wink as you maneuvered yourself into a seated position. Your legs dangled over the ledge, ankle crossing over the other and weight leaning on one hand.
“She’s so good, isn’t she?” Satoru heard Utahime whisper excitedly into Shoko’s direction.
Good was an understatement. You were flawless. A gem. A fucking masterpiece hidden within the confined walls of this establishment.
You were so smooth, shifting about languidly like your body was melting into all the right positions. You were like a drug to survey, seeping through Satoru’s veins and numbing his senses, leaving you to be the only thing within this space that he was perceptually aware of. 
He watched you turn to look all around, finally drifting your face into the direction of his table. Your eyes found Utahime first, a glimpse of amiable excitement flickering through your gaze with a twitch in your smile. The said woman waved enthusiastically with a beam. Your smile brightened as you continued singing, (e/c) eyes dancing over Shoko and then finally onto Satoru.
The white haired man stilled under the spotlight of your gaze, your piercing eyes far more intense now that they had connected with him. His skin tingled, sapphire eyes holding your own as something within you sparked, eyes jumping ever so subtly as you took in his frame. 
Satoru wasn’t normally easily swayed into speechlessness, let alone nervousness, but damn. Your eyes were practically devouring him whole as they shamelessly roamed over his body, hungrily, as if you were going to pounce on him. 
Satoru grew hyper aware of his physical reaction to you in that moment. His heart was pumping steadily yet loudly within his ears and his throat had run dry, Adam’s apple bobbing whilst he tried to appear unfazed by you to no avail. A battle of dominance transpired between your shared eye contact, and he couldn’t deny the fact that you were winning. Your voice floating on in compliance with your gaze wrapped him into a chokehold, burned his peach skin, and for the first time in his life he felt rivaled by a human woman’s natural power outside of his ordinary world of sorcery and chaos. 
Your hand supporting your body weight slid out, your figure leaning along with it and your eyes failing to leave Satoru’s even for a second. Your hand carried you until you were laying on your side, hand propping up your cheek and left leg crossed over the other. The blue eyed man’s eyes widened as he took in the manner in which you presented yourself before him, for him. The mic pressed into your soft lips, your gloss grazing the speaker, corners of your mouth curving with sensual delight. 
You looked so edible like this, mesmerizing him with your voice like a siren out of sea. Your beautiful legs, your jutted hip, those gorgeous lashes, and lord help him, those juicy red lips that had him seeing stars. Red, Satoru observed, was your color as its shade cradled you and illuminated the frame of your body. He drank in your artistry in awe, the room growing warmer around him with each bat of your lashes and gliding of your fingers down your dress. 
Cheers surrounded, but all Satoru could focus on was your face and the sudden ache arousing from his crotch. He glanced down momentarily and caught sight of the growing bulge stretching his nice pants and exhaled heavily. He rested his elbow on the table and slid his hand over his mouth, peering back up at you with blown pupils. 
It was going to be a long night. 
Your grin twinged with an air of satisfaction when you noticed Satoru’s response to your rather blatant flirting, and you pushed yourself back up. You tilted your head over into the opposite direction slowly, eyes trained on his until the very last second, and then they broke away.
Satoru’s daze shattered when a balled up napkin bounced off of his infinity shield. He turned rigidly to find Utahime glaring at him angrily, lips curled into a disapproving frown. “Don’t even think about it,” she seethed.
Gojo examined her for a moment before a devious smirk crept its way back on his lips. He shifted, crossing his legs to attempt to hide the current problem poking into his pants, and grinned. “No promises,” he mouthed and Utahime groaned, ripping her eyes away from him as if the sight of his face disgusted her. 
Your performance ended far too soon for Satoru’s liking. When he looked back up, the accompaniment was dwindling down into the slow pace that it had begun with. You were back on your feet, turning your back to the audience to saunter over to the mic stand. You carefully slid the handle back into its holder, voice soothing into a low, conclusive note that fluttered regally off into a momentary stunned silence. 
You stilled, inhaling sharply as the song reached its end. You blinked your eyes, as though reawakening from a daze, and looked up contentedly. Your hands fell to your sides and you awaited applause that came as rapidly as you had aroused the entire room. 
Gojo made sure that he was the first to jump to his feet, clapping wildly with a ridiculous grin. Everyone else followed, showering you in praise, compliments, a standing ovation well deserved. Shoko ‘whooped’ next to him, joining in on Satoru’s boisterousness while Utahime clapped a bit more politely with a proud smile. 
You gave a little bow, your smile radiant enough to put the sun to shame. You looked over everyone in grateful acknowledgement before turning your attention back to your friend’s table. You took the opportunity to return Utahime’s wave merrily, bringing your fingers to your lips and blowing a kiss to the brown eyed woman. 
Satoru and Shoko’s cheers picked up in volume, and your eyes brought themselves back to them. Your shoulders jerked with a soft chuckle, giving the two of them an introductory wave. Satoru brightened when you looked at him again, gazes exchanging an internal, mutual address of one another’s tension. 
You drew your top lip down, suppressing a bigger smile as you stared at him. Your gaze traveled downward for half a second and your eyes went big. You were quick to brush a hand over your amused expression and lower your gaze the moment the curtains drew over you and shut, concealing your beauty once more.
Satoru jutted out his bottom lip in momentary befuddlement, looking down to be reminded by his… problem. He was lucky that he was wearing pants that were tighter around his lower waist and crotch area, keeping the print of his dick somewhat compressed, but you had still managed to notice from your view upstage. 
Well, more accurately, you had been looking. 
Satoru grew ecstatic at the notion. 
“You!” Utahime pointed an accusatory finger at the blue eyed man once the applause had died down and chatter arose once more. People began to leave after your show had ended, having only come to watch you sing, and hell, Satoru couldn’t blame them. 
Satoru lowered his hands and pointed an innocent finger to his chest. “Me?”
“If you sleep with (Y/n), so help me-”
“Woah, hold on now,” Satoru stopped her. “What makes you think I’m the kind of guy to go around sleeping with strangers?”
“Oh don’t play coy, I saw the way you two were looking at each other earlier,” she rolled her eyes. “I hardly care what you do in your free time- frankly it makes me gag to think about it- but please just leave (Y/n) out of it.”
“Oh come on, it’s not my fault she was looking at me. What’s a guy to do in that situation?” Satoru shrugged. “I’m sorry I can't help my incredibly good looks.”
“I mean it, Gojo.”
“Utahime, let’s be real. She’s your friend. I wouldn’t do anything to mess with her. I’m not the horrible guy you take me for.”
“I don’t think you’re horrible, I think you’re an idiot whose arrogance is going to get you in a world of trouble one day. And I’m not even talking about how you’d affect her, I’m talking about her.”
“Hm? How do you mean?”
“She will eat you alive.”
“Eat me alive?” he repeated curiously. The prospect had only further piqued his interest. “I’ve never heard that one before.”
“Don’t believe me?”
“It’s not that I don’t believe you… I’m just thinking maybe I should see for myself.”
“You’re disgusting.”
Shoko laughed. “Think of it this way, Utahime. If Satoru sleeps with your friend, he’ll be admitting that you chose a great place for us to hang out tonight. After he doubted you, and all.”
Utahime paused, a noble grin reaching her features with the touch of her finger to her chin. “That’s right! He’d have to admit that he was wrong about me. Looks like you’re not the only one who knows how to plan a fun night out, huh?”
Satoru watched the woman gloat in her newfound honor with a blank face. “Jeez, Utahime. I didn’t think you were so obsessed with trivial things like proving me wrong. I was just playing around earlier,” he badgered, successfully rousing her agitation and disrupting her temporary air of victory. 
“I can’t stand you!”
“So,” Shoko sighed, turning to observe the flow of people exiting the space as the lights rose once more overhead. “Are we gonna get to meet this girl, or what? She put on a hell of a show.”
“Oh… yeah, hold on,” Utahime pulled out her phone. “She told me before to just wait for her to text saying that we can head backstage. I think she’s in the dressing room.”
Satoru buzzed with the anticipation of seeing you up close. Something about the way you stood up there, the way you presented yourself, the way you looked at him made every fiber in his being tremble with excitement as though you were a celebrity he had only dreamed about gaining the privilege to encounter in person until this very moment. 
He looked over his shoulder at all the drunken men who had been hollering your name and brimmed with vanity. Those poor idiots could only ever ponder about speaking with you one on one and seeing you up close, when he was able to saunter his way back to you with absolutely no obstacles in his way. It was foolish of him to sneer down at these non-sorcerers, who had been established as far beneath him the moment he was born, but he couldn’t help the pride that swarmed his chest when he thought about the advantage that he already had with you in comparison.
“Ah, there it is,” Utahime smiled upon seeing your name pop up on her screen. “Alright let’s go. Gojo, keep it together.”
“When have I ever done anything but that,” he grinned.
The three found themselves being led up the stage and behind the curtain by the same guy who had presented your performance. They walked through the narrow right wing and toward a door at the end of the room. The man knocked loudly upon it, announcing to you through the barrier that you had visitors before walking off. Another shiver wracked Satoru’s body when your honey-like voice called out that the door was open.
Utahime turned the knob slowly, peering into the room hesitantly. “(Y/n)?”
The door opened widely, revealing you sitting at a foggy mirror and a beaten leather chair. The surrounding clutter of storage and clothing was enough to show that you had been in this space often despite its rugged, vintage look. 
The light of your vanity illuminated the brick space. You looked up when the door fully opened, and that jaw dropping smile graced your red lips again. 
“Utahime,” you greeted happily. Iori beamed, rushing into the room to wrap you up in a hug the moment you stood. You let out a surprised huff, easing into her arms and chuckling. “I’m so glad you made it,” you said, rubbing her back. 
“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss it for the world! The second I knew you were performing here, I came running,” Utahime replied, pulling away to look at you. “You were so amazing out there.”
“Aw, you think so?” you raised your brows, serene grin broadening. 
“Absolutely! You made everyone go crazy.”
“I try my best,” you shrugged, eyes darting over to the brunette and the white haired man standing at the doorway. You raised a brow. “I see you brought some friends with you.”
“Ah,” Utahime recalled, releasing you from her grip. “Yes, these are my colleagues. This is Ieiri Shoko and… Gojo Satoru,” she grumbled the latter bitterly, slimming her eyes at his cocky gaze. 
You hummed. “Oh yeah?” those eyes of yours flickered over Satoru rather noticeably. “Well, nice to meet you both. I hope you enjoyed the show.”
“Enjoyed it?” Shoko echoed, crossing her arms with a tipsy grin. “We loved it. You’ve got a crazy set of pipes on you. And that dress? Fucking incredible.”
You accepted the compliment genuinely. “Thank you, you’re sweet.”
“How long have you been performing?”
You followed the owner of that voice and found yourself staring into captivating blue hues once more. A small smile rested on his lips and his hands were tucked into his pockets as he looked at you. 
You sharpened your gaze and lowered your lids. “Do you mean here or in general?”
He shrugged, glossy lips puckering as if in thought. “Both.”
A glint flickered through your eyes when you responded, leg crossing over the other. “Been performing for ten years, here for one.”
Satoru lifted his chin and parted his lips, humming in understanding. “So you’re a real professional then.” 
“I don’t know, what do you think I am?” you asked him.
Gojo immediately picked up on the light banter that you were encouraging, therefore he, so taken by the sight of you, could do nothing but play along. Especially when you proceeded to check him out with absolutely no remorse.
“I think you’re good enough to be with the stars somewhere. On a big stage with a big crowd. Bigger than any of us could imagine.”
Flattery, though common, still seemed to have a rather carnal effect on you. You tilted your head over your shoulder, eyes glistening with intrigue. “Who says I haven’t been?”
You clearly liked to challenge, to push your limits and see if your words and responses were strong enough to make the man before you falter or stumble over his words. If Satoru Gojo were anyone else in this world, he internally conceded that he would have, but he liked this daring persona you harbored. He liked the way that you were aware of the fact that you could bring a man to his knees with a look alone, the way you could shift your words to chip away at someone’s resolve and make them a mess at your feet. 
He thought it was so hot. 
If Utahime had been right about you earlier, that you would eat him alive if he had been presented the chance to make a proper move on you, he would have let you consume him blissfully. 
He wanted you to consume him.
“You’re right,” Satoru chuckled lowly. “If you have, you’d be right where you should be. In the limelight.”
Your smile spread as your locked gaze soaked him in, and Satoru knew that he was set. 
“Alright,” Utahime’s voice cut through the thick air. Her expression was bored, having very clearly witnessed what was slowly unveiling before her. While she didn’t approve of it in the slightest, she was hardly the least bit surprised.
Shoko had kept quiet as well, looking between you and Satoru with knowing widened eyes and a tight laugh-suppressing smile. 
“(Y/n)? When’s your next show?” Iori asked you, clenching her jaw when her eyes cut through Satoru threateningly. The said man hardly cared, for you were initiating far more of the tension rising between the two of you than he was. After all, Satoru hadn’t been bluffing before when he had questioned the accusation thrown about regarding his sex life. He was a busy man with very little to no free time aside from the few hour block he took out of his Friday evenings to spend time with his fellow sorcerers. 
Of course, women were drawn to him, but he found very little interest in entertaining their efforts. In his mind, the act would have been like poking fun at forgotten admirers for the sake of entertainment. It was beneath him, sleeping around, and he hardly trusted anyone enough with his powerful mind and body to be vulnerable with them. Consequently, he kept to himself, flirting around every now and then but never crossing the line between pretty words and physical intimacy.
So to be dragged into your will with little effort had stunned him, more so because he was not opposed to your unspoken invitation in comparison to how he would have normally reacted to someone’s advances. You looked like you were trouble, conniving, gaining control of a room with the tricks of your beauty and your talent. You knew full well that you were an unfathomable treasure, a sex symbol amongst the little world that you had built for yourself, and that alone was dangerous. Satoru knew so because he himself was just as dangerous for the same reasons and far more. 
You weren’t even intimidated by his presence, like most human women were. He was abnormally tall with prominent features that stood out like a sore thumb; snowy white locks that glowed blindingly in the sunlight and eyes as vast and blue as the sky above. Normally, people shivered under his gaze, cowered in his wake, but you demanded his submission as though he was just another man, and hell, he couldn’t even be offended because he wanted you just like any other man. 
“Usually I perform every Friday,” you started, pulling your eyes from Gojo to look back at Utahime. “But next week they’ve got another guest performing in my place ‘cause I want off. Sometimes I do stuff at the bar in one city over too, but during the weekends. You’re welcome to come check it out whenever. All of you.”
“We’ll definitely have to stop by more often. I can’t believe I’ve been missing you all this time.”
“Aw, don’t worry about it. I can only imagine how swamped you are with work and everything, being a professor and all. Just come when you can, no hard feelings.”
“Do you have a social media handle?” Ieiri asked. You nodded, smiling.
“Yeah, it’s my full name pushed together. You follow me, and I’ll follow you. I love making new friends.”
The brunette immediately exchanged information with you, and just like that, the night was over.
Utahime was the first to bid farewell, claiming that she had to get up early the following morning for some business to attend to that Satoru and Shoko knew as a quick mission orchestrated by Tokyo Jujutsu High. She gave you another tight hug and Shoko followed, telling you that it was great meeting before turning to the door with Utahime. Satoru was the last to leave the room, turning over his shoulder to casually part with you. 
You watched him closely, leaning your hip against your vanity with your hand on upon the other. Your red lips pressed together in a stiff smile, desiring eyes watching as you said goodbye, though you knew deep in your gut that this wouldn’t be your last time seeing Satoru Gojo.
On the way out, Satoru stopped in his tracks on the stage steps, standing over the now completely vacant building. Utahime and Shoko walked with their arms linked to the exit, Shoko stopping first when she realized that Satoru was not directly behind them. The women turned, catching sight of him looking around the room calmly.
“Satoru!” Shoko called out. “You coming or what?”
He smiled, lowering his head to look at the brunette from across the room. “Nah,” he sighed contentedly. “I think I’ll take in the ambience a bit more and… ponder over the performance we just watched. Why end the night so early, you know?”
Utahime’s expression fell flat. “It’s a quarter past midnight,” she deadpanned.
“And yet, there’s still so much the night has to offer.”
Shoko snorted, turning back around and waving her hand over her head. “Whatever you say. Text me after you get laid.”
“Like I said, Shoko, you know I’m not that kind of guy!”
Utahime huffed, shaking her head in disdain. “You’re playing with fire, Gojo. We all know you’re the strongest, but you shouldn’t underestimate that woman’s control. She will break you.”
Satoru scoffed, waving the indigo haired woman off. “Please. I’m unbreakable.”
Utahime rolled her eyes and turned her back to the strongest sorcerer of the modern age. “It’s your funeral.”
His funeral, huh?
Satoru never knew himself to be the masochistic type, but somehow, the thought of you metaphorically killing him only made him harder. 
You emerged from behind the velvet curtain about ten minutes after Shoko and Utahime left. You were rifling through your purse for the keys to lock up, which the owner usually entrusted you to do when you performed because you were close personal friends. 
Your heels clicked and echoed throughout the vacant space, no signs of life aside from the sound of your footsteps. Even so, you knew you weren’t alone before you had even rounded that corner to exit backstage. You could sense the overwhelming presence of that friend of Iori’s who had been ogling over, and you hadn’t been surprised. When you looked up from your bag and saw his tall figure sitting patiently at the same table he had occupied earlier that night, chin propped in his fist and eyes glowing through the dim space to find yours, you lowered your arms knowingly. 
“Hate to break it to you, but the show’s over, pretty boy,” you said smugly. “You’ll be waiting in the dark forever until my next one.”
“That’s okay. I was actually waiting for you,” Satoru replied suavely.
“Is that so?” you stepped down the stairs slowly to make your way over to him. “I don’t give autographs, if that’s what you’re looking for. I haven’t made it that big yet.”
“Whattt? No way. I thought you said you’ve been with all kinds of stars before.”
You walked up to the table, slinging your purse off of your arm and tossing it carelessly on the surface. “Don’t get me wrong. One day I will be,” you sighed. “Just not yet.”
“Well, you could’ve fooled me,” Satoru grinned, watching in the dim light as you slid into the seat across from him. “I’ve never seen anyone perform the way you did.”
“You must not get out much,” you teased. “I’m really not all that special in places like these.”
“Okay, we both know that’s bullshit,” Satoru cocked a brow, giving you a look as your grin widened. “You’re unreal on that stage. I’ve been around enough to know that.”
“Clearly,” you chuckled. “I appreciate the flattery, Gojo.”
Your laugh was heavenly, and holy shit, you remembered his name.
“Satoru,” he corrected you, quickly ridding the both of you of any formalities that could have gotten in the way. Your lips parted slightly with fascination, and you caught the way Satoru’s eyes jumped to the motion.
“Right. Satoru,” you tested his first name on your lips, and Satoru thought that he would have combusted right then and there.
If that hadn’t been enough to blow a fuse in his brain, sitting so close to you and taking in your features within your proximity was a gift within itself. You were even prettier up close, the details he couldn’t quite admire from when you were on stage fully displaying themselves before him exquisitely.
Your eyes were so heavy, lined with a coat of black liner that deepened, accentuated the rich hue of your alluring eyes and your skin so smooth beneath the expertly applied coat of makeup you wore for your performance. You still had on that dress too, only it was concealed by a leather coat that reached your thighs, hiding what Satoru so desperately wanted to see now that he was mere feet away from you. 
“So, a colleague of Utahime’s, huh?” you prodded, seeking further information from him. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a teacher.”
Satoru laughed lightly at the sentiment, momentarily forgetting that you had no clue about what his profession could have possibly entailed. “I get that a lot,” he elected to say.
“And at a religious school no less?”
You were testing the water. 
“It’s just work,” Satoru shrugged. “I never thought about it as religious or non-religious, which I know is probably weird to say since I am a professor there.”
“No, I get what you mean,” you said. “Work is just work,” you repeated his words, and Satoru smiled.
“Exactly.”
“Then you come to these kinds of bars for, what, a break from all the sanctity?” you mused.
“Not really. I’m actually not much of a drinker. I only came here for the entertainment. Per Utahime’s suggestion, of course.”
“Right,” you smiled. “Speaking of, Utahime doesn’t seem to like you very much. I only got that from the way she introduced you like she wanted your head on a silver platter,” you observed smugly, Satoru releasing an amused breath. 
“She acts like she hates me, but I’ve known her for years. She’s just always been easy to mess with and she lets me pick on her.”
You laughed, clearly understanding what he meant. “So you’re that kind of guy, huh? Picking on poor Utahime. No wonder she hates you.”
“Well, when you put it like that, you make me sound like some kinda monster,” Satoru sulked slightly, much to your amusement.
“I wouldn’t mind it if you were. I could take it.” 
Satoru’s cock twitched, your words alone enough to further stimulate his lust for you. 
You could take it.
The phrase had so many different possible connotations, and you knew it. Your eyes said it all as they melted over his face, surveying his facial reaction to the way you lifted a nail between your teeth to bite down on it mid sentence. 
It drove him crazy. 
“You don’t seem like the type though,” you countered your previous statement. Satoru leaned forward slightly, inquisitive. 
“No?”
“Nah, you seem too nice.”
The blue eyed man snorted. “You think I’m nice?”
“Or maybe that’s not the right word,” your painted finger tapped against your bottom lip, the flesh so plush beneath your touch. 
He wanted to feel that softness against him. He wanted your lipstick to stain his body. To stain his life. He wanted you so bad. 
“I mean, I guess I do consider myself to be generous,” Satoru played along, a laugh bubbling in his throat.
“Mmmm,” you pressed your lips together, slimming your eyes and setting your elbows onto the table. You leaned into him, eying him closely, studying his cunning smile and pressing your chest into the table. “I take it back.”
“Damn, you don’t think I’m nice anymore?”
“You’re more… extroverted,” you decided. “You know how to talk to people, and it comes off as generosity. Sometimes. But in reality, it’s just you being lighthearted.”
“So lightheartedness and generosity aren’t the same thing?”
“Hell no,” you smirked. “You could be a dickhead and still be spirited.”
He chuckled again. You were so forward. “You’ve got a point.”
“You’re also a little flirty, you know that?” you specified. “I think that’s a part of your ‘lightheartedness.’”
“Oh really?” the strongest sorcerer shifted to open his fist and lean his cheek over in his palm, peering down at you through his lashes. “Pretty, if I’m flirty, then you must be in love with me.”
You were momentarily stunned by the comment, your pleasure with the conversation only growing as Satoru grew more brazen. “Wow. That’s a new one,” you grinned, pretty teeth on display again, and Gojo found himself mirroring the sun before him. 
“I’m just saying, I’m not the only one who’s been flirting. You can’t tell me otherwise.”
“I never said I wasn’t,” you admitted freely, your tongue swiping over your bottom lip. Satoru sucked in a heavy breath as his pants only grew tighter. “Hate to break it to you, though, I don’t do love if that’s what you’re looking for.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not. Somehow I didn’t peg you as the type.”
“What did you peg me for?”
Satoru took a few seconds to reply, staring at you. “As a woman who your friend told me would eat me alive.”
“What?” you released a real laugh this time. It was a loud, bright sound that boomed through the empty space and left Satoru’s cheeks aching and dimples popping from how hard he was smiling in reaction to it. He watched the way your head tilted back and your eyes scrunched closed, your expression displaying true thrill. 
You were so beautiful, he couldn’t stand it.
“Why’s that so funny?” he asked in the midst of his idiotic simpering.
You swiped a finger under your eye as you calmed, shaking your head with lingering giggles. “Because Utahime would say something like that about me,” you exhaled. 
“Can I ask if she was wrong?”
You interlocked your fingers, elbows on the table, and rested your chin atop them. “No, she’s not,” you said, softly. “But you know that anyway, don’t you? You look pretty smart.”
“Aw, thanks for noticing,” Satoru cooed. “You’re right. I knew that the second I saw you.”
You hummed, dragging your eyes over his face, then down to his hands. “Then why are you here, Satoru? To get eaten alive?”
There went Satoru dick for the third time that night, jumping excitedly within the confines of his pants. The predicament began to grow rather uncomfortable, and you were quick to notice when he shifted in his seat in an attempt to be subtle and his dark pupils expanded amidst the pools of sapphire beneath his messy hair. 
Your perfectly plucked brow arched as you looked down when he shifted. “Problem?” you asked knowingly, sensually, and god, you were only making his situation worse. Your lips bounced apart with the end of your question, your mouth now slightly agape. 
Satoru could feel his skin burn, your presence unbearably intoxicating. 
A muscle in Gojo’s brow twitched as you lowered your palms flat to the table and pushed, your chair scooting loudly across the floor. Blue pools of desire followed your figure as you rose from your chair slowly, rounding the table with your fingers dragging along the surface. Satoru’s heart was hammering, entirely fixated on you as you approached and stood over him. 
Suddenly, you kicked your foot out and knocked it against the front leg of his chair. Hooking the point of your heel over it, you dragged the furniture away from the table to face you. You broke your eyes from his to look down, the image of his throbbing hardon meeting your eyes kindly.
“Looks like it,” you answered for yourself.
Satoru instinctively released his technique when he saw you coming into him. You leaned over and pressed onto his shoulder, throwing your leg around him to straddle his lap. Satoru hissed, corner of his lips twirling up as his eyes flew to where your thighs crowded around his crotch, tights stretching perfectly over the way the fat of your thighs expanded when you sat.
You pouted, sliding your arms around his neck and tilting your head down to meet his lowered eyes. “What’s wrong? Got no more talk in you?”
The white haired man trembled under you, wordlessly taking you in. You smelled so good, your scent invading every one of his heightened senses as your gentle fingers dragged over the nape of his neck. You leaned in closer, brushing your wine red lips over his glossy ones as he exhaled shakily, warm breath fanning against your skin.
“Am I making you nervous, pretty boy?” you whispered into him, and he fucking shuddered. “I thought you wanted this…”
Your fingers tangled up and into his hair, pushing his locks from his forehead and tilting his head back. You looked over him, marveling at his beauty as his cheeks reddened and his hands cupped over your waist. His lashes fluttered with the brush of your fingers through his silky strands, eyes inky pools as he looked up at you desperately. 
“Funny, your dick may be making all the moves for you,” you teased, words vulgar as they dripped from your tongue.
Satoru’s length jumped against your inner thigh, hardening beneath your weight. He clenched his jaw and drew his brows together, digging his fingers into your hips under your coat. You hummed, drawing your lips to his ear. “See? All of a sudden he’s more talkative than you are.”
“Fuck,” Gojo hissed, your voice in his ear snapping something deep within him. “Baby, you’re something else.”
“What are you gonna do about it?” your fingers curved down the side of his jaw and over his throat. “You gonna let me ruin you?”
Satoru smiled breathlessly, his grip around you tightening. “I should be asking you the same thing, pretty…” his heavy hands smoothed down over your ass, pushing you further up against him. You raised your brows, pulling away to look down at him daringly. 
“That’s pretty cocky for a guy who lost his words for a second, there,” you licked your lips. 
“Oh, baby, you have no idea how cocky I can be.”
You grabbed a fist full of his shirt, tugging harshly. “Then prove it.”
Your mouths were clashing into each other’s before Satoru could even process his next thought, which only would have been something about you. Your lips were so soft, plush as a cloud as they mashed into his own, your red gloss smearing over his lips and chin, painting him red, and Satoru knew then that he could die happy. 
Satoru reached up blindly and pushed your jacket off your shoulders. You swiftly shimmied out of the fabric, letting it drop to the floor whilst your lips remained locked hungrily in a primal, hot, greedy battle. The white haired man immediately snatched the opportunity to feel over your body, memorizing the curves that followed his hands beneath the smooth fabric of your tight dress. His legs spread beneath you, feet pressing into the floor to hump up into your hips as your body curved into him like the trickle of water smoothing down a pipe. 
He grunted into your mouth as you nipped and bit, curling your tongue into his mouth to fight for your authority. Satoru welcomed your dominance, floating into a twisted heaven as your hand curled over his throat and your tits pressed into his shirt through your dress, thighs rubbing over his sides and nails dragging down his chest to rip open the buttons of his shirt. 
“That shirt was expensive,” he breathed heatedly into you between the swift seconds your lips broke apart. Wet smacking filled your ears as you pressed back in, pushing your body flush against his large frame and licking your tongue along his lip.
“I don’t care,” you purred. Satoru released a shaky moan, slamming his lips back into yours, eager to taste every bit of your lipstick and the slick of your tongue. 
You jumped back to stretch the material of his shirt further apart, buttons popping with the revelation of his flushed, bare pecs and the hint of his well-sculpted upper abdomen. You dragged the shirt from his shoulders, Satoru yanking his arms free to grab your cheeks and press you harder into him. “Your lips feel so good,” he huffed mindlessly, a string of saliva pulling from the two of you as you parted. 
“All I did was kiss you,” you breathed.
“So kiss me more,” he demanded. “Everywhere. Wherever. I don’t give a fuck.”
“So bossy,” you groaned, teeth grazing his jaw as you slid your hands down his exposed skin, feeling over the ridges of his abdominals. Satoru jerked, breath releasing with a vocalized sigh as your touch smoothed over his stomach. You popped open the last button of his shirt and ripped it out from under him, throwing it over your shoulder with a pretty smirk, lipstick smudged messily over your cheek. “I’ll kiss you when I want to kiss you, where I want to kiss you.”
“Don’t be like tha-mmm…”
Your hand slid over the bulge of his pants as you pressed yourself up above it to free the space for your access. Satoru clenched his jaw and watched intensely as your fingers traced over the outline of his hard on teasingly, teeth sinking into your lip as you monitored his reaction. “You feel big, Toru,” you observed sweetly. “Can I call you that? Toru? You like that, baby?”
“Fuck, yes,” he heaved, eyes blurry. “Call me whatever the fuck you want.”
“Atta boy,” you praised, pressing your lips to his cheek as his cock jerked beneath your hand. “Ohhh, look at that. Someone likes praise…”
“You’re- killing me, baby,” he looked up at you, jaw hanging as stuttered breaths escaped him. “Need you to take care of my cock, pretty, can’t handle the way you’re touching me.”
“You must be so used to getting what you want,” you sighed. You leaned to place your finger at the base of his balls, watching the way his body jumped. You slid your finger all the way up his concealed shaft slowly before ripping it away with a sweet smile. Satoru made a noise like a dissatisfied whine in his throat. “I already told you, I’ll do what I want when I want it.”
He tossed his head back, brows curling. “(Y/n),” he whimpered.
“Ooo, don’t say my name like that,” you pushed your hips back down to roll against his cock, a pretty moan fluttering from his muscular throat. “You’ll get me even wetter than I already am.”
Satoru’s hands clutched down onto your thighs, squeezing harshly with aching want. 
“Relax,” you ordered, and he did, sinking back into the chair as your hands climbed over him and your lips touched the crook of his jaw. “Good boy.”
You slid your tongue along his skin, sinking your teeth into his neck like a damn vampire, smoothing your open mouth over the stinging bites, marking his skin redder than that makeup you wore. Satoru breathed heavily, twitching beneath you uncontrollably. You hadn’t even done anything to him yet, and he was already a mess at your will. His moans strained in his throat as you sucked circles on his neck mercilessly, capturing any piece of his perfect skin you could find. 
He needed you to free his cock so badly. It was causing him pain, at this point, how achingly hard he was. He could feel precum already staining his underwear and soaking through his slacks, but you kept him waiting, pressing you clothed mound to his bulge as his grasping hands pulled your dress over your legs and scrunched it around your waist. 
Your lace cut offs and string panties unveiled themselves to him and he almost came then and there beneath you. You were so bad, dressing like this to perform as though you were asking to get fucked afterward. As though you knew Satoru had walked through those doors and would melt into putty the moment you laid your hand on his chest.
“Uh uh,” you whispered, feeling Satoru press his dick up into you again. He could feel the slipperiness between your thighs, soaking your thin underwear and threatening to pool through to touch his clothes. “Stop that,” you said firmly, glaring up at him from where you had begun nipping at his chest. 
Your back was arched, your ass sticking out over his lap, and oh, you were just begging to be fucked, but Satoru couldn’t bring himself to do anything but what you told him. Not yet at least. He got off on the way you dominated him, the way you took control with no idea that if he wanted to he could have snapped you in half. 
Only, if he wanted to. 
“Pretty, I want you so bad,” Satoru said through gritted teeth, gazing longingly at you through the mess of his hair. He involuntarily bucked up into you again and you gasped, gripping his shoulder tightly with one hand and onto the hand that gripped your waist with the other. 
There you were. He had finally gotten a reaction from you.
Your face darkened, your eyes hard. You looked back up at him with eyes that could kill, expression falling into intensified hunger. Satoru gulped.
You lifted your hips and grinded them forward, pressing them down and swiveling your lower body with rapid pressure. Gojo inhaled sharply, eying the way you slithered across his dick like a goddamn snake, movements glossy and abrupt. His fingers dug into the skin of your waist, curling into the waistband of your panties and stretching at them eagerly. 
“You’re so fucking impatient,” you growled, rolling your hips over him again and moaning softly when his bulge rubbed against your clit. “Shit, how fucking big are you, Toru?”
“You would- hah- know if you took my f-fucking cock out, princess,” Satoru moaned, pulling at your hips to keep them in motion. You finally complied, rocking your sopping cunt against him slowly, the friction against your heat sparking waves of pleasure to your brain.
“Mmm, fuck,” you whispered. “Shut the fuck up.”
“Baby, come on,” Satoru begged, encouraging you to keep going. You began to get yourself off, using his hardon to stroke against you dripping pussy as humped his pants, pulling back and pushing in, back and in. “There you go, pretty, grind that pussy onto me. Make yourself feel good…”
“I said- ah- s-shut up!” You pushed him back by his shoulders harshly, holding him still against the back of the chair as you rode him out through your pants, brows furrowed and mouth hanging open. Your pace quickened, your clit throbbing with each grind it took against his length. “Why do you feel like this with fucking pants on?” you breathed out, confounded by howquickly he was making you feel this good.
“Take them-ngh, fuck- o-off, and it’ll feel better.”
You fumed, slapping a hand over Satoru’s mouth as you glided your throbbing pussy into him hard. A muffled groan escaped Satoru’s mouth, eyes threatening to roll back as a string of curses fled your lips. 
You wanted him to shut up. No man had ever spoken to you this much, in such a manner that Gojo was encouraging you with that sweet, needy desperation lacing his deep voice. It was only dragging more arousal from your cunt, and you weren’t used to this. You weren’t used to responding to a man’s body and mouth this way. 
You usually did all the talking. You were normally the one watching in amusement as a man shook like a leaf underneath you. You were usually the one experiencing less pleasure, but hell, you had only dry humped Satoru for five minutes and your pussy was already pathetically crying for him. And his mouth, god, he just wouldn’t be quiet, and his inability to do so was threatening to weaken you.
You truly did not want to comply with his desires, but you could no longer deny that the both of you longed for the same thing. 
You kept your hand secure over Satoru’s mouth, his fucked out gaze drinking you in as you hurriedly unbuckled his belt, fumbling over the straps and leaning away from him momentarily to do so. Satoru’s hands moved to help you, but you pushed them away, pressing against his mouth harder.
“Don’t touch,” you ordered. His groan of frustration and want vibrated against your palm, his hands grabbing immediately into the plush of your exposed ass beneath you bunched dress. 
You scooted further down Satoru’s legs so that you could tug his pants down once you got his belt out of the way. You hadn’t even bothered to stand to pull them all the way down, for you were in far too much of a rush to free his dick to care.
Your fingers found the hem of his boxers, ripping them down quickly. Your lips curved back into a smile, your frustration fading, when his gorgeous cock flew free and smacked angrily against Satoru’s abdomen. A smear of shiny precum spread over his skin in his tip’s wake, the pink head oozing generously. Your eyes grew, internally and temporarily stunned by Satoru’s size. He was long, unnaturally so, with bulging veins wrapped around his shaft and trailing upward. A soft tuft of white hair resided above his dick at the end of a teased happy trail.
Your (e/c) eyes admired his entire figure once more, his heaving breathing, sweaty brawny chest, the love bites you left behind, littering his collarbone and either side of his neck within circles of your lipsticks stains that trailed up to his nose behind your hand, his flushed skin, and sex dazed sapphire pools. 
“You’re such a pretty boy, Toru,” you praised. A glimmer of light flickered through his pupils in reaction to your gentle words, a stark contrast to the way harshly you pushed into him. 
Gradually, you wrapped your free digits around his base. Satoru moaned, broken voice rumbling into your hand. Your tongue touched the top row of your teeth as you reveled in the feeling of his dick in your hand. It twitched within your soft palm, fluttering toward you with a mind of it’s own.
“You wanna do me a favor, baby?” you asked, and Satoru nodded eagerly. “You wanna move my panties to the side so I can slide your pretty dick inside me?”
Satoru trembled, nodding again with fervor. You leaned down and kissed his cheek again. 
“Go ahead,” you spurred him on.
The white haired sorcerer wasted no time in reaching under you to rip his fingers into the thin strap of your thong. He stretched the band out desperately before feeling his way further down, freezing when he touched a cool patch of slick dripping from the cloth hiding your pussy from him. 
He pushed the fabric aside as you had advised him to and experimentally slid his fingers over your slit, collecting your sticky fluid as it seeped down his palm. His chest jumped with another muffled moan, eyes hardening when your dark lashes flickered and your thighs jerked over him. You were so wet for him, and you were trying not to show it on your face, but Satoru could tell that you were deprived of him, of real, attentive, passionate doting. He could tell that you needed him as much as he needed you.
Satoru allowed his mind to wander as he sank his index finger past your lips and into your warm, gooey walls. You mewled, hips bucking downward. “Satoru,” you warned, but your voice lacked your previous grit. The blue eyed man smirked behind your palm just seconds prior to your removal of it from his mouth. Your lids grew heavy over your eyes as he dragged his finger out and pushed it back in slowly, swirling around your gummy insides. “Ahhh, shit- f-fuck you!” you moaned, the sounds you released so pretty.
“Don’t fight it, gorgeous,” Satoru coaxed, finding his voice again. He plunged his finger deeper inside you, twisting and twirling so slowly that you almost saw stars. “Fucking hell, this pussy is so greedy. She’s sucking in my finger like it’s nothing. Such a perfect cunt for me.”
“St-Stop with that c-cocky shit, oohhh god,” you gasped, lowering yourself back down and ducking your head into Satoru’s shoulder as he worked another finger into you slowly, your juices squelching loudly with their lazy pump in and out. 
“So you can be cocky, but I can’t, hm?” he turned to murmur into your hair, listening to the sinful sounds your needy pussy made around his fingers. Your arousal proceeded to flood over him like a pool, drenching his wrist and dripping onto his balls and the wooden chair. “Mmmm, you really like this, baby. You’re drenching me so good, almost like you’ve never been fingered before.”
“This’s exactly-y why I covered y’r mouth,” you mumbled, breath hot against his neck. “You talk too goddamn muchhh, fuck, Toru, right there! Right fucking there, like thattt…”
“Hm? Like this?” he curled the tips of his fingers against your walls and you yelped, notifying him that he had discovered your sweet spot. “Right there, right pretty?”
“I already told you, yes,” you moaned, gripping the back of his chair. “Yes, yes,” you murmured, and Satoru hissed.
“Enjoy it, baby. So pretty. Such a gorgeous girl, such a gorgeous little pussy…”
“Fuck, Satoru,” you exhaled raggedly. The said man made a noise of acknowledgement, hypnotized by the steady stroke of his fingers into you. With your hand still wrapped over his cock, you slid your it up his shaft slowly, squeezing softly. Satoru’s fingers froze inside you, his face burying into your hair.
“Oh my god…” he grunted, closing his eyes. “Your hands are so perfect.”
“You’re whipped,” you teased, lifting your hips up into the air so that his fingers could reluctantly leave. 
Satoru studied the stretch of slick that connected his fingers to your cunt as they left your walls. Before he could protest, you were guiding his tip toward you and sliding your sloppy cunt overtop of it.
“(Y/n), fuckkkk,” Satoru drawled, jaw slack while he watched you ease your way down over him. The tip of his puffy dick slowly disappeared within your slimy walls, and his eyes rolled into the back of his skull with the toss of his head backward. His fingernails imprinted into your sides as you sank down, swallowing his girth and taking him into you.
You huffed out, moaning loudly with your hands now pressed into Satoru’s bare chest. His girth was quick to stretch you before you had even made it halfway. A whine caught in the back of your throat as your face tightened. You had never taken someone so big before, and he was filling you up so deliciously. You could feel every twitch, every curve, every ridge and vein of his heavy, lengthy cock as it slipped further into you, your walls tightening instinctively around him the further down you went.
“Oh, baby,” you purred. “Your dick’so… nghhh, shittt!”
“She’s soakin’ me,” Satoru choked out, assisting your glide down with the drag of your hips to his own. “So tight, god, pretty, you can’t be fucking real. You- this fucking pussy, hahhh, that’s it, baby. That’s it, keeping going. All the way. Please, baby, please. Want to fill you up. Need to be all inside this messy cunt.”
“So big,” you mused, watching as he sank into you halfway, and for the first time in your life, you paused. “Fuck, you’re in my stomach!”
“Take it all, honey, take fucking all of it. You got it, pretty girl. Keep going.”
“Don’t- hah- need your help, fucking- fuck!” You sank down further, pushing with the pull of Satoru’s desperate hands. Your breath left your lungs momentarily, Satoru’s long dick sliding up to the hilt of your pussy and stretching you absolutely full. You could feel him everywhere, your bum reaching his balls the moment you saddled onto him completely.
Satoru’s face stilled into blissful emptiness, staring down at where you were connected and the bulge that prodded against your lower tummy. “That’a girl, fuck, you’re so good,” he babbled, hands sliding up your back. His fingers blindly grabbing for a zipper. He peeled it down once he pinched it, curving his hands under your slipping dress as he exposed your bare skin to the empty space. 
The straps of your dress fell down your shoulders accordingly, revealing the plush of your pretty tits that peaked over the fabric. Satoru was overwhelmed, struck by your entire being as you warmed his trembling dick, perky nipples pressing into his line of sight as your dress fell around your waist.
Satoru pushed in, pressing his hands to your lower back and arching you into him as he touched his lips to the center of your tits. His dick nudged your insides with the motion and you inhaled sharply, holding onto him tightly.
“Could you be any more fucking perfect,” he grumbled, catching your perky nimble between his lips.
Your body leaned back and he craned forward along with you, hands supporting your weight to him as he teased your nipple between his teeth. His tongue followed swiftly, lapping over your bud and sucking hungrily off your tit, spit drooling from his mouth as he made out with the plush fat. Your moans carried just as your singing had, lifting melodically into the space and bouncing regally off of the confined walls and casting Satoru deeper under your trance.
“Smell s’good, taste so good, feel so, so good. Can’t get enough of you baby, can’t.”
“You’re so sappy,” you whispered, head rolling on your shoulders and eyes closing as your cunt clenched around him in pleasure.
Satoru moaned into your chest, marking up your boobs as you had his neck. “C’mon, baby,” he grunted. “Kill me.”
You were quick to carefully lift your hips, Satoru’s length sliding along your gummy walls. You were slow at first with the withdrawal before lowering yourself down heavily, his cock slamming back into your aching pussy. 
You both moaned in unison, and you wasted no more time. You set a steady pace, pushing up and pushing back down to sink over Satoru’s dick, juices leaking and mixing into his precum as you clenched repeatedly around him. You rode him out carefully, nails digging into his shoulders. 
“That’s it,” Satoru purred, peering up at you from under your other tit, eyes dark enough to sink into. “Ride me out, gorgeous, use my cock.”
“Fuck, Toru, you’ve got such a good dick,” you whimpered, reaching up to tug into his hair. Gojo’s eyes rolled, skin slapping lewdly with the collision of your ass rippling against his thighs. The slimy sound of his rock hard cock sliding from your drenched heat was like music to your ears, better than any song you had ever sung, better than any cheers you had ever received.
“Ah-ngh, baby, baby,” Satoru blabbered, already fucked out. “So fucking wet, dripping all over me. Pussy feels so good, so so good…”
“Yeah? You like when I ride your dick, baby? You like being the only one I get to fuck after my show? You like being my toy, tonight?”
“Fuck yes, love it so much. Fucking love the way you fuck this cock, pretty, don’t fucking stop.”
“That’s a good boy, Toru,” you purred, sitting fully onto him mid bounce to roll your hips into his. Satoru moaned loudly, uncaring of his volume. His mouth found your tit again, sucking like a madman as you rode him deeply, ensuring that he felt every corner of your pussy around him and that you felt every glide of his slender cock into your wet heat. “You’re so good, taking my pussy, yeah?”
His cock jerked inside you and he nodded dumbly, tongue swirling desperately over your reddened nipple. You hummed in ecstasy, pushing into him once more and pressing him back as you threw your ass down onto him, slick and pre melting between your connection and stretching with the rapid slaps of your hips into his. You moaned, brows pinching as you brought your lips to Satoru’s parted ones, his groans and whines sliding into your mouth with the insertion of your tongue against his. 
“Yessss,” you cooed into him. “So big, you’re filling me up so good.”
“I ca- nghhah,” Gojo was a mess, moaning helplessly as you bounced mercilessly onto his cock, trapping him against you so that neither of you had anywhere to go. “Sl-Slow down, pretty, fuckkk, shit, slow down,” he begged, but you ignored his pleas, bouncing faster as he held your hips shakily.
“Can’t take it, Toru? Hm?”
“Gonna make me fuckin’ cum already, baby, please…”
“So soon?” you nudged, lifting your hips up to roll slowly over his tip before slamming back down, continuing you pace. Satoru choked over his own voice, leaning his head back and slumping into the chair as it rocked angrily beneath your weight, attempting to support your angry thrusts. “Mmm, not surprised, baby. Saw the way you- shit, were looking at me earlier. Saw… saw your pretty hard on from onstage. You wanted my pussy so bad, didn’t you? You wanted to be snug inside me the second you saw me, yeah?”
“Yeah,” he whimpered, eyes screwed shut. “Needed you. Needed to fuck you in this pretty little slutty dress. Needed my dick in this pussy the moment you laid there in front of me. Fuck, wanted to take you right there,” he whined. His hands slid back to your thighs, pressing and clawing and squeezing. 
“I know, pretty boy, I know…”
“S’much better than I imagined. F-Fuck, fucking perfect. You’re so perfect. Fucking me just right, pretty.”
“You’ve got such a filthy mouth,” you groaned, head tossing back when Satoru’s dick brushed against your cervix, veins rubbing against your g-spot as you switched to rocking back and forth over him. Satoru’s hands grabbed your ass, his eyes flickering between the way your tits jiggled with your body and his dick bulged against your lower stomach with your grinding.
You knew just how to treat his dick, keeping him snug within your wet cavern and massaging it with the fluidity of your hips. “Nghmm, right there, Toru. Right thereee,” you sighed, face contorting with pleasure.
“Don’t stop, honey,” he reached a hand up to your face. “Don’t stop, keep going. Make yourself cum on my dick.”
“Fuck!”
“Yeahhhh,” he smoothed his thumb over your cheek. “Gorgeous baby, you look gorgeous.”
“Stop that,” you whimpered through broken moans, attempting to shift away from the warmth of his palm.
“Nuh-uh, pretty, let me look at you,” Satoru laced his fingers into the back of your hair, holding your face steady and your eyes to his. “Need to see those pretty eyes, they make me so hard.”
You couldn’t fight the moan that caught you, eyes swimming into his as you rolled your hips over his cock, eyes growing heavier and heavier as a knot built in your lower abdomen and your cunt clenched more frequently.
“Mhmmm,” Satoru hummed in satisfaction. “Keep looking at me, baby.”
“I said stop the sappy shit,” you gritted out through clenched teeth. You didn’t have time to pull his hand away, however, when his feet planted into the floor and he pushed up into you, throwing his arms around your lower waist to hold you to him. You cried out, curling against his chest as Satoru thrusted up into you desperately, balls slapping up against your skin as his hazy eyes peered over your shoulder to watch the connection.
“Come on, baby,” he grumbled into your ear. “Don’t give me that, let me admire you like you deserve.”
“Aghhhh, fuckkk,” you sobbed, your body rocking wildly with the force of Satoru’s thrusts. “God, m’fucking close.”
“Me too, pretty, me too,” Satoru’s voice dipped down ruggedly, an animalistic hoarseness to his tone. He couldn’t stop, fucking into you like a rabbit as if it was the very last thing on earth he was going to do. 
You whined, cunt drooling over him as it prepared you for your orgasm. Your clit rubbed against his rigid abdomen, stimulating your nerves further as you quickly approached.
“Give it to me, princess. Milk my fucking cock.”
“Cum inside, Toru,” you demanded, sinking your teeth into his shoulder. “Want your cum in me…”
“Fuck, baby, fuckkkk- mmmm, shit!”
Like an ocean crashing down onto the shore, your orgasms met each other simultaneously, juices drenching his cock with slippery white cream and sticky fluid. Satoru’s arms tightened around you, his seed splurging into your cunt endlessly, his hips rocking with the continual stream of his hot cum into your aching pussy. 
Your moans mixed into each other’s loudly, building into a symphony as you rode out your high, grinding weakly into him as your vision went white.
Satoru’s legs twitched, your own practically numb around his waist. His cum proceeded to leak into you, dripping down your legs and onto the floor. The two of you sat there in your breathless aftermath for a moment, Satoru tucking his nose into your shoulder and pressing a soft kiss there. He felt you sink against him, his hands smoothing gently over your back.
The moment you twitched against him, however, his cock jolted with continuous life. Satoru grunted, pushing himself up into you carefully to ease the remaining ache in his dick. You made a low noise, shifting your hips around him.
“Baby,” Satoru sighed. “Let me bring another one out of you.”
You twisted your head to the side, peeling back to look down at him curiously, slowly. Your eyes were tired, yet still dripping with lust, a soft smile playing at your lips. “Another one?” you repeated, somewhat shocked by his persistence.
“Please,” he whispered. “Need to feel you cum around me again.”
Before you could even respond, he was gripping you tight and standing from his now sticky seat. You kept your legs wrapped around him as he carefully laid you on the table, pushing your purse out of the way.
Satoru leaned over you, kissing your lips hungrily then pulling back to peck down your chest and stomach. He was suddenly so soft, caressing you and kissing you, and you watched suspiciously, unfamiliar and normally opposing this kind of contact.
Yet, you allowed Satoru to proceed.
His hands smoothed over your waist, his pants falling to his ankles. He yanked your bunched dress up and over your head, ridding your waist of the clothing article and throwing it carelessly to the side. He yanked your panties down further and slid a thumb over your clit, rubbing gentle, soothing circles over your sensitive, sopping bundle of nerves. 
You jolted, feeling his cock harden inside you again as he locked your lips together. He kept his finger rolling over your soaked clit, swallowing your mewls and soft moans into his mouth.
Your hands flew to his shoulders as he pushed into you gently, his cum dripping from your entrance and squishing back up into your cunt with his soft thrust. You broke your lips from his and moaned against him, angling your brows as your pleasure built back up in an instant. 
“Let me take care of this pretty pussy,” Satoru mumbled gently. “Seems like y’always take care of everyone else.”
“Satoru-“
“Shhh,” he hushed you as a broken moan fanned over his lips. He pulled back and thrusted back into you again, watching how your mouth froze open cutely and your eyes hardened. “Wanna keep feeling you. Let me keep feeling you.”
“Oh godddd…”
“Yeah, baby, yeah,” Satoru mumbled against you, pussy-drunk. He slid in and out of you with ease, pressing between your legs and pushing fully into you, ensuring that you felt every inch of him gliding back into your pretty cunt, stuffing your cunt back up with his cum. “Could stay in this pussy forever. Shit, she’s so loud. Such a good pussy. My good pussy.”
“Y-gonna split me in h-half,” you stammered, and Satoru grinned a dopey fucked out smile as he gazed at you.
“Look at you, baby,” he cooed, setting a slow pace that gradually picked up speed, rocking into you with the continuous swift caress of your clit. Your body was twitching, brows furling into the sky. “God, fucking look at you. M’so lucky, so lucky I got to have you tonight and not those other- f-fucking, ngh- bastards staring you up and down. Tonight, this pussy is for me. She’s treating me so good.., ruining me for any other pussy.”
“Uhhh, Toru,” you quivered. Satoru responded swiftly, bucking his hips and plowing into you rapidly, watching as your chest stuttered with shattered breaths and your legs writhed around him the quicker he moved circles over your puffy clit. “Gonna- fuck, what the fuckkk, gonna cum againnn…”
“Fuck, can’t get enough of you. Want you to come undone, baby, let go. Let gooo.”
You clawed at his arms, watching his fingers work over your clit and his dick spear into your quivering walls. You dragged your nails down his bicep, leaving bright red scratches, but Satoru couldn’t have cared less. 
You came again without warning, liquid gushing around his dick with your stunning cries. Satoru’s eyes glazed over, hand ripping from your clit so that he could cage over you, pressing his body down into yours as he demolished your pussy, squirt sprouting over his skin and with each pull away before he thrusted back in. Your fluids flew everywhere, and Satoru kept going. 
“Fuck!! Fuck, fuck, fuck, give it to me, baby, fuck meeee, fuck me harder, Toru!”
You were fucking insatiable. You clawed at his back as his inhumane strength kicked in, his hips snapping against yours with feral aggression, grunting and crying out into your ear. 
“Keep squirting on my dick, baby, just fucking like that. You’re so fucking good, love this sloppy cunt. It’s all for me, pretty, all for me.”
Tears pricked the corners of your eyes and Satoru wasn’t far behind you. He snapped himself into you three more times before stilling with a hefty groan, ropes more of his cum pooling into you and spilling onto the ground. He kept his body locked on top of yours, legs kicking around his torso as he fed you his seed, moaning pathetically into your skin. If you weren’t on birth control, you were absolutely sure that Satoru Gojo would have gotten you pregnant.
You huffed heavily, closing your eyes to catch your breath and soak in the silence. Never in your life had you been fucked the way this man had just fucked you at your place of work, and never in your life had you been worshipped or handled the way he had done so to you, despite your understanding of your impact on men.
You laughed suddenly once recovered, body jumping with your amusement. Satoru lifted his head from you, peering down at you, dazed, with his own gentle smile on his lips. 
“What’s funny?” he murmured, eyes taking you in like you hung the moon and the stars.
“Nothing, I just- don’t know what I expected from you,” you sighe.
Satoru tilted his head. “In a good or bad way?”
“A fucking good way.”
Your response was enough to have Satoru beaming, lowering his forehead to rest on your chest momentarily. “That’s all I needed to hear,” he breathed. “You really are something else, you know.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“No, really,” he lifted his head for a final time to lock eyes. “I mean it.”
Your face fell slightly as he looked at you. You sucked your teeth, pushing him away the moment your cheeks tingled. “You’re still too sappy.”
Satoru laughed softly. “How could I not be when you’re talented, gorgeous, and you have the best pussy I’ve ever felt in my life?”
“You’re telling me stuff I already know, honey. I’ve heard it all before..”
“Guess I’ll just tell you again and again,” Satoru grinned, stealing a swift kiss from your nose before sitting up carefully, looking down at where the two of you were still connected. “Uhhh… you wouldn’t happen to have a towel around here, do you?”
You grimaced, sitting up on your shoulders to survey the mess that kept the two of you united. You looked up at him, corners of your lips twitching. 
“How about we give each other head, lick it up, and call it a night?”
Satoru whipped his head back up to stare at you with wide eyes. You knew you had steered into the right direction when you felt his length harden inside you again.
“Sounds good to me,” he smirked.
The following day, Satoru dialed Utahime’s at around one pm. The line rang for a bit before it finally picked up.
“What?” the woman growled into the mic. 
“Utahimeee,” Satoru greeted cheerfully, instantly feeling the aggravation wave off of the brown eyed women from the other end of the line. “How are you today?”
“Fine, Gojo. What do you want?”
“Nothing, really. I just wanted to call to tell you that you were right all along. I’m humble enough to admit that. Last night was undoubtedly the best staff outing that we’ve ever had, and it was all thanks to you. I’ll let you plan the things we do more often now,” he beamed. 
“…”
Satoru could envision her pinching the bridge of her nose while her other hand pressed the phone to her ear.
Satoru’s lips tugged downward as he tried to hold back the amused laugh that was threatening to leave him. “You there?”
“Yes, I’m here.”
“Oh. Did you hear what I said?”
“You two had sex, didn’t you?”
“Whatttt?” Satoru scoffed. “Me and who?”
“WHO ELSE, IDIOT?!”
The blue eyed man chuckled slightly. “Look, I never kiss and tell.”
“Then why did you call me?!”
“To thank you for your evening suggestion, obviously,” he said. “Oh, and to tell you that I put your little inquiry to the test.”
“What inquiry?”
“That (Y/n) would break me.”
Utahime exhaled loudly. “I really don’t want to hear about that details-“
“I told you already. I don’t kiss and tell,” Satoru reassured. “But, I will say, she’s really not all that evil.”
“I never said she was evil.”
“You said something along those lines.”
“Yes, I meant she schemes. You had sex with her once, Gojo. As long as it stays that way, it’ll be fine. But the longer you spend time with her, the deeper you’ll fall, and the faster you’ll be torn to shreds. She’s my friend and I love her, but I know very well how she gets with men. I’ve seen it a hundred times over.”
Satoru pursed his lips, thinking back to the two of you exchanging numbers after he had walked you home. 
“Utahime, let’s not forget who’s the strongest sorcerer of the modern age here. I’ll be fine. I don’t risk falling for anyone.”
“…yeah, that’s what they all say.”
Satoru didn’t take Utahime’s warning seriously, of course. You were too pretty for him to turn away from you so quickly, and if you were willing to keep a casual relationship that didn’t interfere with his line of work or your separation from so, he didn’t see any harm in the matter.
Satoru Gojo was the strongest to roam this planet, yes, but you had still somehow managed to bring the strongest to a point of vulnerability, to a place where he was willing to release his technique for you effortlessly, which he never did in the presence of anyone outside of his students, let alone for a non-sorcerer.
Satoru could absolutely understand and physically see where Utahime was coming from, for your impact on him was strangely inhumane despite you being one yourself but hell, he knew he wouldn’t be able to get you out of his head if he didn’t at least stop by to see you perform and feel himself inside you one more time, if anything. 
After all, what could have been the harm in that?
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lavendertalks311 · 4 days
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3rd of july ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆.˚ nanami kento
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piece written in collaboration with my beloved friend and one of my favorite people, @rahuratna, for nanami's (a.k.a. internet's collective husbando) birthday. 💜🧡 content warning: fluff/comedy/sugestiveness word count: 1k
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Nanami wasn't one to make big celebrations on his birthday. Up until he met you, he'd usually go about his work day quietly, saving up a few extra hours to simply go bowling or visit his favorite restaurants for dinner.
After you both started dating, not much had changed. You'd simply tag along for whatever he had planned, and would usually surprise him with something by the time you both got home - a box of dark chocolate, a new set of lingerie, a nice warm scented bath, a new CD album he had been looking for.
This time, however, you decided to push your luck on teasing the poor man.
On his birthday, of all days.
"Kento, how do you feel about surprise parties?" you ask, hiding the smile pulled on your cheeks behind your tea cup.
On the couch by your side, you could feel Nanami holding the urge to flinch the moment you were finished speaking.
"They are not my favorite," he answers in earnest.
"Seriously?" you inquire with a faux disheartened look.
"Yes," Nanami replies, with a tinge of concern to his voice.
"That is... unfortunate, then," you ensue, putting your tea on the coffee table and pulling your robe tighter around your body.
His Adam's apple bobs as he silently gulps.
"Why?"
"Well, my plan was to surprise you when you got home, but I figured you wouldn't want to get instantly jumped. So I told them to wait in the room," you finally say, with a grave finality, pointing to the closed bedroom door.
Truth is, he has no clue what you are really up to.
"Darling…" Nanami sighs, ever so patiently, "I thought it would just be the both of us unwinding, like the past years."
"I… I'm sorry, I really wanted to surprise you with something different this time."
You do sound regretful, and he plants a soft kiss on your cheek in response. Even now, he doesn't quite find it in himself to be annoyed at you, even if the prospect of Gojo lurking around his bedroom is enough to send disgusted shivers down his spine.
"It's… fine. Let's get this over with at once, and then have the house to ourselves."
"Are you sure? I could always go in there and tell them to-"
"No," he counters firmly. "You've arranged something a little different this year, and I'm going to appreciate it."
"Come on, then."
As perceptive as he is, Nanami doesn't notice the mischievous smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. Naturally, since you have successfully planted a seed in his mind, a terrifying image of his pristine suits being tried on by students and his custom made bowling ball being transformed into a disco light by the white-haired menace he calls a colleague.
When you reach the door and step aside for him, he visibly braces himself, fingers almost straightening a phantom tie at his throat.
"Sweetheart, I need to go and fetch a scarf. It's a little chilly in here."
Bless his heart. He's actually playing along.
You raise your voice.
"Oh, I left the blue one on the top shelf. Your closet."
"Right."
Nanami heads in with the air of a man charging from the trenches to face a volley of cannon fire. He stops dead in his tracks, eyes taking in the room.
It is empty of people, for starters.
The comforter on the bed has been pulled back, the white sheets scattered with rose petals. Candles have been placed strategically on the bedside table and vanity, emitting the subtle scent of the ocean. On a corner of the bed, a few ribbon-wrapped gifts await; a small stack of books and a box of his favourite dark chocolate with orange.
You saunter in behind him and he turns to you with a look that is both a solemn reprimand and a loving promise of a punishment you may appreciate later.
"Hmm. It's awfully crowded in here, my dear."
"Well, the rose petals were quite chatty, Kento. They've taken up all the space on our bed."
"They have indeed, you little-"
You laugh as you slip out of his reach, standing coyly in the doorway.
"Have a look at your gifts first."
He narrows his eyes, but approaches the bed, fingers unraveling the ribbon that holds the books together.
"What do we have here? 'The Master and Margarita.' Ah, wonderful. 'Bowling your way home: A salaryman's escape from bondage.'"
He pauses and raises an eyebrow and you gesture airily for him to keep going.
"Fine. What's this one? The-"
His voice cuts off abruptly.
"Kento? Are you all right?"
Very slowly, he turns to you.
"You got me the Kama Sutra?"
"I figured it would make a nice addition to your collection. I may even borrow it, from time to time."
You approach him now, casually opening the book to where you've placed a strategic leather marker within the section on sex positions.
"Since it's your birthday, maybe you'd like to start with the Virsha here?"
He considers the page seriously, before taking the book from you and flipping through it.
"I'm not sure, darling. You've put in enough effort setting all of this up."
Handing it back to you, he watches the flush that spreads upwards, across your neck as you are presented with the Indrani pose he has chosen instead.
"How about you let me do the work from here on out?"
"Well... "
"No, I insist."
His voice has that special intonation now, the husky rumble of desire, the inflection of hushed intimacy, the promise of that playful nature that only reveals itself when you're entangled in the sheets together.
You lay the book down, open to the very instructive illustration.
"In that case, let me present you with my last gift."
"There's another?"
Wordlessly, the robe you've been so studiously arranging around yourself slides to the floor. His kindling gaze takes in the sheer, violet lace, the tiny flowers embroidered strategically over the parts of you that he will discover at leisure.
***
Later, when the gossamer material lies discarded on the floor, when his exhausted limbs entwine with your own, when his golden hair runs like silk between your fingers, you speak into the hush of the bedroom.
"Happy birthday, my love."
His voice is muffled from where his face is pressed against your stomach.
"That was quite the surprise party."
"Maybe we should have one every year."
He snorts indignantly, but his lips curve in a smile against your skin all the same.
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lavendertalks311 · 4 days
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It’s my husbands birthday NOBODY TALK TO ME
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lavendertalks311 · 4 days
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❝ AND I SIMPLY BLEND IN WITH THE WALLPAPER ❞ PART 2
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✧ summary: you're finally over the breakup and back in a new relationship with someone you now can't picture living without. how do you handle bumping into your ex after not seeing him since that party? ✧ cw: f!reader, college au, mild profanity, some angst for my boy satoru, also satoru being a bad bf, pining, heavy regret, comfort, mention of previous issues/trauma, no use of y/n ✧ word count: 3.3k
part 1 - part 2
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Satoru: happy birthday! hope you have a nice day
You were surprised to say the least, staring blankly at your phone screen. It had been months since you’d seen him, let alone heard anything from him. The last text message that had been sent between the two of you had been a week after your breakup, when he told you there was still a box of your stuff left in his dorm.
And now you were staring at the first time he’d even acknowledged you’re existence since then — and pure relief filled you as it dawned on you there wasn’t an ounce of hurt in you.
After that dreaded party, you’d made up your mind to finally move on. Not let the idea of him plague you anymore — and seeing those words across your screen made you realise you had finally reached that point. Now you were only thankful for the experience that had been Satoru Gojo, but it was nothing but a pleasant memory. Not painful, not bitter, not torturous. Just nice.
“Ready to go?” A voice snapped you back to reality, looking up at your boyfriend. Your new saving grace, who he had come into your life when you needed it the most, like the universe had finally decided you had suffered enough and now it was your turn to be happy again.
For a while, you’d suspected men like him didn’t really exist, because he had been so incredibly patient, lenient when needed. Just all around a good person, which was exactly what you deserved.
Lifting from your seat, you typed a quick ‘thank you :)’, feeling content that you could now answer him without anxiety filling every fibre of your being. “Yeah, let’s go,” you smiled before hooking your arm with his.
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You simply sunk into his body, letting your head rest on his shoulder as his arm was safely secured around your waist in a tender grip, standing in the very front of the line while you waited to be seated.
Lifting your head, your eyes traveled your boyfriend’s face with a loving gaze, a look that had basically become a default setting whenever you had the chance to admire him. “Thank you again,” you whispered.
His arm tightened a little around you. “Of course. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t take you out for dinner on your birthday,” he spoke so proudly before placing a kiss on your forehead.
“Still, I think a thank you is in order,” you giggled. Carefully wiggling in his grip, you turned around to grab your lipgloss from your purse when you accidentally nudged your elbow straight into the back of the person standing behind you. “Oh, I’m so sorry- Satoru?”
Eyes falling on a familiar figure, you’d recognise that white hair and blue orbs anywhere. It was none other than your ex-boyfriend staring right back at you. Softly, your name dropped from his lips in a way you hadn’t heard from him say in a very long time.
Restraint was sorely forgotten at the sight of you glowing with a sense of peace, letting his eyes take in how you were styled in a beautiful form fitting dress of green satin, half your hair tied back with a cute bow
“Hi,” you said cheerfully, causing him to close his gaping jaw and swallow the lump in his throat.
“Hey,” he answered in a low voice, before he let his attention shift to the vaguely familiar man at your side, one arm on your waist, the other tucked into the pockets of his beige pants.
“Oh, sorry. This is my boyfriend,” your voice was dripping with devotion as you placed one hand on his chest, “you know Kento, right?”
To say Satoru knew Kento was a stretch, but he wasn’t completely unacquainted with him — he’d seen him around campus and at a few parties. Satoru had always thought him to be too serious, never smiling, always walking with strict determination of getting somewhere. But right now he was flashing him a friendly smile as he pulled his hand from the pocket and had it hover in the air between them.
Shaking out of his thoughts, he politely accepted the gesture — not surprised by the firm and respectable handshake. “Kento Nanami, it’s a pleasure.”
“Satoru Gojo,” he answered simply, lips drawing into a thin line. Kento then turned to the individual at his side, causing an embarrassed flush to paint his cheeks, because the sight of you had him forget his girlfriend for a hot second.
“Pleasure,” he smiled at her after they had introduced themselves to each other.
So the rumours were true. No one had told him directly, because the topic of you was quickly dropped any time he entered a room, but the whispers of your new boyfriend had reached him eventually.
Once when he was sat in the library, his ears had perked up when two girls sitting behind him had mentioned your name, talking about the new guy you were seeing. They’d talked of a handsome and chivalrous man, who seemed to have all the women on campus charmed because he appeared to be the perfect gentleman. And you’d been the lucky girl to finally be able to secure him.
But when he’d heard the descriptions of your new beau — stoic, always alone and grumpy, oh-so-serious business major Kento Nanami, was not the person he pictured.
He probably thought he was being slick, but you saw through it. Despite everything that had gone down between you, there was no denying you still knew Satoru, and the look in his eyes when he observed Kento could definitely have been kinder. And with the heavy glare from Satoru, the encounter had turned strangely uncomfortable. Because you weren’t the only one who’s picked up in his tense behaviour. His girlfriend saw it too.
You knew you couldn’t let the silence hang over you any longer. “So is there a special occasion?” You asked sweetly, looking between them.
“Just- ahem, just a much needed date night,” his girlfriend answered, trying her best to hide how her voice came out strained once she opened her mouth.
“That’s nice! It’s good you take the time to do those sorts of things.”
You were so genuine when you talked, and that was all thanks to Kento. Because of his unwavering and supportive presence, you were able to talk to the both of them without a single drop of resentment.
The moment he had heard the name of your ex-boyfriend slip out of your lips, he’d acted on pure instinct, his grip on you tightening — not in a possessive way. No, he just wanted to make sure you were okay, knowing your entire history.
However, the road to knowing your history had been a long one, because the insecurities and trust issues had run a lot deeper than you had anticipated. So Kento had to put in a lot of work in order to get you to creak open that door of trust.
You didn’t know why you waited so long to expose your vulnerability to him. Maybe you just waited for him to bail on you if you proved to be too closed off — too difficult. That eventually he’d grow tired of the work it took to prove himself to you and you’d spare yourself the heartbreak by pushing him away. Yet, he stayed.
If there was an individual to be patience personified, it would be Kento Nanami. He responded to every request of “I’m not ready yet” and “it’s just too much” with a warm smile and a nod before he continued to keep you company.
And he had never once complained. Not a single grunt of frustration, not a twitch in his eye as you once again shut down his attempt of getting close, never rolling his eyes at you. He simply stayed by your side, which eventually was enough for you to let your walls down — and with the walls, everything else came tumbling out as well.
One late evening, after he’d cooked you a nice dinner just because, you’d decided it was finally time to tell him about Satoru and how that ended. And once you twisted open the jar to your life, everything came spewing out.
Every detail about your relationship with Satoru, the breakup and the party. That quickly snowballed into your troubles with family, friends, work, studies, life — you name it. Standing in front of him, you revealed things about yourself you’d only ever told one person before, Satoru. And everything came out in the form of loud and uncontrollable sobs.
You’d been so scared, that he’d deem it all too much and turn his back on you. But he hadn’t even hesitated to pull you into his strong arms and simply hold you. For as long as you needed it, he stroked your hair and whispered small affirmations into your ear the entire night until you fell asleep in his embrace.
When you’d woken up the next morning, his arms were still around you — shielding you from all potential pain to come your way. For the first time in a long time, you felt safe.
And that’s when you knew.
All of the weariness that had held you back for so long had evaporated into thin air, everything suddenly making sense again as it all fell into place. It was strange, knowing that the two of you had crossed paths on so many occasions but never even acknowledged each other. It felt like wasted time, because you found yourself thinking it should have been him all along.
Kento seemed to be everything Satoru wasn’t, matching your energy in a way Satoru never did. At least now, all the pain you’d been through felt worth it because it had led you straight into the life of your current boyfriend.
So when you were suddenly faced with your ex again, the very one that shattered your heart, Kento instinctively had to know you were doing alright. And if not, he was going to just smoothly shift the conversation away so you’d be able to retreat from the situation to make sure you were anything but uneasy.
You’d looked at Kento when his arm had tensed around your middle, your eyes telling him everything he needed to know. Nothing about the encounter caused any discomfort, all due to him.
“And you? What brings you here?” She asked.
“It’s your birthday,” it slipped out of Satoru before you had the chance to answer, soft eyes locked on you.
“Yeah,” you only smiled. “Kento wanted to take me out,” turning to gaze at him again, “I just couldn’t turn down his offer.”
Again, Satoru’s traitorous eyes drifted where the shouldn’t, flicking towards Kento’s hand that was still on your waist. It resulted in a new feeling arising in him; jealousy. It had him act a bit rashly, a sharp movement to intertwine his hand with his girlfriend’s. Had he done it to draw out a reaction from you? He wasn’t sure, but if that were the case, he failed miserably. It didn’t even seem like you noticed it at all.
“Only the best for you,” Kento had said, mostly for your ears exclusively. But Satoru had heard his little comment and felt a sting go through his body, amplified by the display of how he seemed to be in pure awe of you.
There was no denying it. The way Kento looked at you was out of pure love, unbothered by your surroundings. Not just in his eyes though, but he wore his dedication to you on his sleeve. There was no doubt that he was perfectly happy, that he found himself where he was meant to be.
“Mr. Nanami, your table is ready,” the waiter came over.
“It was great seeing you again,” you smiled, first looking at his girlfriend before turning to look at Satoru. He knew it wasn’t your intention, because your eyes were only looking at him with kindness — but he felt as if your gaze was burning into his soul. “Enjoy your evening.”
“Nice meeting you both,” Kento begged farewell, before guiding you in front of him with his hand resting on the small of your back.
They say you don’t realise what you have until it’s gone. Well, Satoru had only an idea of what he had lost once it was gone. It wasn’t until he now saw someone else enjoying your love he actually realised what he had foolishly given up. He also knew that was completely and utterly selfish of him.
It wasn’t until a few weeks ago, images of you had started to reappear in his head. At first it was only in small flashes, to which he didn’t think twice about. But it quickly got worse, when he found himself sharing a moment with his girlfriend and a suffocating thought clogged his mind, telling him this was all wrong. It should have been you.
Time moved in slow motion, eyes following your every step towards your table. He was only brought back to reality when he felt his girlfriend pull her hand out of his before crossing them over her chest.
“You could at least try and pretend not to be obsessed,” she muttered.
“What do you mean?” Satoru said shyly, trying to pretend like he didn’t know what she was hinting at. But he knew he wasn’t fooling her. He wasn’t exactly subtle.
“I’m not an idiot.” When he finally turned his attention from you, he felt terrible because a pair of glossy eyes was staring up at him. “And you’ve always been a terrible liar.”
When he was about to come with another dumb excuse, they were approached by their waiter. “Mr. Gojo? Let me lead you to your table.” She blinked away her tears and put on a forced smile.
Walking to their table, Satoru couldn’t help but look over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of you one more time — he instantly wished he hadn’t. He was hoping to find you looking back at him with the same longing stare he gave you but you didn’t.
You were solemnly focused on Kento who was sitting across from you. As far as you were concerned, there wasn’t another person in the room. And he was returning your loving stare with just as much devotion. If not more.
“You sure you’re alright?” Kento asked, reaching across the table to grab your hand.
You nodded. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I could imagine it was hard seeing him again.”
You took a deep breath, the scene of Kento staring back at you with so much concern having a relaxing affect on you. True serenity filled your body leading you to simply shake your head no at him. “No. No, it wasn’t.” He squinted his eyes at you. “He can’t hurt me anymore. Having you in my life has made sure of that.”
Contentment had the corner of his lips tug upwards in a satisfied smile. “You give me too much credit, darling.”
“No, don’t think so,” you said playfully. “If anything, I don’t give you enough credit.” A lighthearted scoff escaped him.
“Is that so?”
“Oh, most certainly. They write books about men like you, y’know? Dashing, charming, handsome.”
“You flatter me,” he sighed as he leaned back in his chair again, the ghost of a smile still painting his face as a slightest blush bloomed on his cheeks. His eyes met yours again. “I love you.”
“And I love you.”
From across the restaurant, Satoru kept waiting for stolen glances to come his way but they never arrived. He was hoping that the unspoken connection you used to have would come in clutch one last time, even if it was just to have your eyes on him for a second.
But you never gave him what he wanted.
He spent the dinner indulged in dry small talk with his girlfriend. The conversation that once flowed so smoothly, had grown stale with boredom and neither of them knew how to fix it. She especially struggled when she constantly caught him looking past her to spot you deep in chatter with Kento.
For them, the evening passed by so slowly, unable to meet each other’s eyes for more than a few seconds at a time. Satoru’s demeanour quickly changed when it appeared your evening was over, his posture straightening when you and Kento got up from your seats. He paid close attention when Kento pulled your jacket over your shoulders, before leaning in to whisper something in your that had you giggle while your cheeks turned red.
Just as you were about to exit, and just before Satoru was about to lose the single splinter of hope he had left, you did in fact look in their direction. You said a few words to Kento before turning away from him and coming over to their table.
Curiosity filled Satoru’s body, eager eyes glued on you. For every step you came closer, his heart started to beat faster. It was like the light of the end of the tunnel came closer and closer but it was quickly put out when you put a hand on his girlfriend’s shoulder, not really acknowledging him in particular.
“I’m sorry to disturb,” you breathed nervously as you looked down at her. “I just feel like I owe you an apology.”
She instantly pinched her eyebrows together. “An apology?”
Truthfully, she was beyond confused by the fact that you approached her. Satoru’s not-so-subtle glances in your direction had been torturing her all evening, and she was a little scared you’d returned them when she couldn’t see.
Judging how she saw you and your new boyfriend alone, she would never have thought you had any bad intentions — but based on the last time she’d seen you, when you were bawling your eyes out alone at a party and all the stories she’d been told about how broken you were, it wasn’t without reason she was worried.
But your focus was on her.
“Yes,” you chuckled softly. “The last time we met I was unnecessarily cold. I had a bad evening, and I was a little harsh in the way I talked to you. I’m sorry.”
“Oh,” she answered, blinking away the befuddlement she felt. “That’s alright. There’s no need to apologise,” she returned your genuine smile.
“Either way. I could have been a little more mellow.” With sincerity, she made sure you had nothing to worry about with short and sweet confirmations. “Well, enjoy the rest of your evening.” You gave her shoulder one last squeeze and a small wave to Satoru.
His voice had failed him, no sound coming out when he wanted to wish you goodbye. He wasn’t in control when he again let his eyes linger as you cutely made your way back to your boyfriend, who held his hand out for you to grab. Once your hands connected, he smoothly pulled you close to him and placed a small peck on your temple. It almost seemed like the two of you were physically attached to each other when you left the restaurant, never even thinking of looking back.
What happened?
He knew he had screwed up majorly — he didn’t understand how he had ever thought this was how it supposed to be? What the hell had come over him when he’d broken up with you? And how had he been so wrapped up in his new girlfriend, when he had to know somewhere inside him it wasn’t real — not like it was with you?
Of course he felt bad. His girlfriend was a good person through and through. And at one point he had been under the impression that they were happy, but she had one flaw that crept up on him after a while — she wasn’t you.
Satoru would probably hate himself forever for letting you go.
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tags @sad-darksoul, @luvsymai, @snwvie, @call-memissbrightside
a/n for anyone expecting and hoping suguru, i am sorry :( i decided to go the comfort route instead of the scandal route, because if we’re honest, it’s what reader deserves… not to mention that i’m doing satoru extremely dirty in this one and it would be cruel to have reader get with suguru on top of that also, it's nanami's birthday so it's fitting <3
reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated plagiarism not authorized
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lavendertalks311 · 4 days
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ꕥ in the heat of spring | rush hours feat. ino takuma x reader
content warnings: pwp, reader has vagina and breasts, sex at a love hotel, feminine pet names, praise, dirty talk, fingering, vaginal sex word count: 3.5k mood prompt: gentle and commanding kink prompt: sex in clothes requested by: @mirkaaaluv a/n: well, well, well, if it hasn't gotten out of hand ^^" i wanted this, and other heat of spring texts, to be 1k words and best and yet, here we go. i guess ino just has his own set of rules lmao
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The atmosphere changed as soon as the door opened and revealed your chosen room.
Ino's hand, so far only nudging you gently towards your destination, wanders down, to your ass, and sinks fingers into the soft flesh. You've expected the move—and yet, you jerk up, barely catching a high-pitched yelp at your throat. You're so tense that even a brush of a feather would send you spinning, an unambiguous touch is almost like a torture.
A welcomed one but a torture, nevertheless.
It's your first time at a love hotel as a guest and something about this fact keeps you right on the thin line between excitement and panic. It's hard to find a rational explanation for your state; you've been in many of them before, as a sorcerer, perpetually erasing the curses born of lust, stress, and raveled emotions you loathed to name but learnt by heart and damped down in order to do your job properly. You gave this place a quick scan even before you stepped into the main hall, and it was as clean as a sex-focused establishment could be. You stared intently at the blurry silhouette of the check-in clerk behind the frosted glass as Ino paid for your room and claimed the card key, but there was nothing suspicious about them. You looked around for residuals or disturbing vibes that could betray a presence—past or present—of a curse, just to find nothing.
It was a safe hotel—and yet, you were much more tense than you ever were in those cursed ones.
"You okay?" Ino puts the card key into the holder, turns the light on, finally closes the door behind you two. "You're…kinda pale. Is it—"
"No." You cut in, your voice calm and unbothered, contrary to a shriek you've expected. "Definitely not. I've checked."
"No curses?"
"No curses."
Ino laughs and kisses the back of your neck, "If there was one around, I'd tear it with bare hands, I think. I fought for this fuck break for a week. C'mon, ladies first."
Nudged by a playful yet hearty squeeze on your ass, you finally step fully in. The room is almost soundproof; the soothing music played from the speakers at the corridor is immediately replaced by serene silence. Fighting against weirdly stiff legs, you take a few curious steps inside; the space is on the smaller side but well organized and cozy for a hotel booked for a single night at best. There's a small tv, speakers, two chairs by a coffee table with a small basket (filled with everything you would need from an establishment of this kind), door leading to a private bathroom—and, of course, the main star of the event: a comfy-looking bed, big enough to fit not two but even three adults at once.
In any other place and time, you would happily pounce straight on it, to test if it's as soft as the views promise—but with legs so stiff and your head spinning you need another nudge from your boyfriend to finally approach closer.
"Well—" Ino is right behind you, the side of his face pressed close to yours and his fingers slowly tracing your sides. "—how do you like it?"
"It's…nice. Very nice."
For a starter, you've been aiming for a cautious sit at the edge of the bed, but Ino is faster, bolder, and impatient with your guarded behavior. Hand on your hip, he spins you around and crashes lips against yours. It's a hasty, hungry kiss, full of longing and agony of separation for weeks of work, stress, and all of this cursed bullshit pulling you two out of your routine. You can't blame Ino for finally snapping; you feel it too, the fire you forced into the subconsciousness has perked its head up and is pushing you now into his hungry arms. The familiar tight knot in your abdomen is pulling hard, harder than you've felt since what seems forever, and begging for a fast and intense release.
If he kissed you like this for longer, the weird tension would evaporate from your head—but Ino's in a rush, as always when his needs are pent up to the verge of bursting. He pulls away from your lips just to push you on the bed, yanks the beanie off his head, hesitates over doing the same with the hoodie just for a second but leaves it, already too starved of your closeness. He advances on you with such momentum that he pushes air out of your lungs—and doesn't let you take another breath before kissing you again with the same fervor. The horny beast in you growls, pleased, and your legs immediately open to fit him better—but the tension at the back of your head remains and tries its best to tie your body into its submission.
"Fuck, I need you..." Ino rasps into your ear, sending harsh shivers down your spine. He ruts his hips against you, the rapidly growing bulge against your groin leaving you no doubts you're for a fast and bumpy ride. You mewl and crane your neck for his lips, jerk your hips up in an answer to his bite, whimper, and moan when he lingers to mark you with a hickey. 
His hands don't give your nerves the same luxury; using one for leverage to pin you with his body just enough, he sneaks the other under your clothes. It traces your tum lovingly but, remembering you have only three hours yanked out of your tight schedule, dives into your pants and panties shortly after.
"You're tense," Ino points out as he's spilling wet kisses from your jaw towards your neck and lower. 
"This is new," you admit but don't follow any further, trying to silence your uneasiness with haste, shallow kisses that swallow his pleased murmurs and mewls. There is no time for niceties, both of you know it—and you're not letting your weird qualms get in your way, not with the fire spilling between your legs just at the brush of his fingers against your slit.
It's uncomfortable to maneuver under your jeans without unzipping them but Ino would endure even digging in a cooling-down concrete if it meant he could finally touch the place he longed for the most. He curses under breath, his words moist against your neck, and finally finds an angle that satisfies him. His thumb traces your slit, spreads your labia and toys with your clit—touch undeniably pleasant but also palpably rushed, especially for a man who could finger you for hours, until you were nothing but a puddle melting in his hands. He's rather seeking for your arousal than working for it; you're more damp than wet but that's enough, it was before, and your thighs quiver by his sides when he teases right at your entrance.
Tension itches at the back of your head; when Ino's eyes seek yours you nod with agreement, maybe even too sharply to pass as genuine. Under other circumstances he would point it out and ask to be doubly sure, to read the sweet consent from the timbre of your voice, but his senses are as hazy as yours—and he's not thinking with the right brain anymore.
He adjusts the position of his hand one more time—and slides two fingers into you, at once.
Instead of the expected surge of pleasure, your body spasms and you hiss sharply as you try to stop your hips from jerking away. The tension hasn't worked in your favor; yes, the moisture would be more than enough if you were at home, lazy and relaxed, but here it fights against his fingers, access suspended, no matter what your soul and mind are craving.
Ino immediately notices.
"Oh baby, did I hurt you?" He withdraws his hand and lifts himself on both arms now, giving you more space beneath him. The wildfire in his eyes has turned warm and docile, and he's looking at you with nothing but concern—and guilt, creeping at the corners of his big, puppy eyes.
"No, don't worry, I'm alright." You scratch at the back of his head, yourself not sure if to calm down him, yourself, or both at once. You don't know how to explain your current situation without sounding too intricately and ridiculously. You're tempted to joke that you would feel more at ease if there was a curse in the next room, but that's not really the strategy you're looking for to salvage the mood.
"A false start?" Ino finds the right words first and exhales with relief when you agree. "Shit... I was so focused on time... My bad. I'm sorry."
When he reaches to your lips again, the kiss is softer, asking for your forgiveness, but as enthusiastic as before. There's still plenty of heat in between the two of you, so it doesn't take long for your moves to turn sloppy and hungry anew. He's more cautious, though, and doesn't budge from his position any further than needed to sip from you. No matter how tempting you and your mewls are, he's not caving in, not until you're nice and putty in his arms.
It seems it's been hours when he finally asks if you want to continue, and you nod with such enthusiasm that your vision goes blurry for a moment, the tension at the back of your head already too lazy to perk its head, peeking curiously at the situation instead.
A soft kiss on your cheek later, Ino climbs off the bed and, finally, strips off his hoodie. The view itself does wonders to your mood; his athletic and lean body is a work of art, begging to be touched, licked, and caressed. You stare at his back intently as you work your pants and panties down—and count its crevices and lines of defined muscles you're going to trace soon. The tension lets out only a warning thrum when your partner starts digging in the basket with love hotel goods, but it's pretty much its last spasm.
With a comically triumphant noise, Ino turns with a bottle of lube and a condom in his hands—and stops in his tracks at the sight of your half-naked body. He takes a harsher breath when you roll your shirt over your waist; from the weight of his stare, you know he's inches from pouncing on top of you again. Nerves and will of steel, forged in heated battles against curses, pay off in a situation like this, he shrugs the temptation off and snuffs out the wildfire running through his veins.
Everything for your sake.
"You spoil me." The mattress dips under his weight as Ino approaches you on his knees, opening the lube with his teeth at the same time. He spits the cap out on the floor and sits by your side on his heels. He takes his time studying your curves, almost motionless if not for his chest heaving with need and his abdominal muscles tensing and twitching. He might be controlling himself, but it doesn't come with ease. Each breath is a fight against his instincts, racing thoughts, and pulsing hardness relentlessly pushing on his jeans.
"Show yourself to me, pretty girl." He finally snaps out of trance and pours lube, almost everything he has, on his fingers. A smile grows on his face as you listen, bending your legs in knees and spreading them wide for him. "Yes, just like this... Fuck, you're so hot..."
Scooting closer, Ino moves in between them, eyes fixed on his goal, warm and ready for him—but still takes his time to adore you properly. He leans close to your thigh, kisses your knee with sweet affection and advances further down, until he has you giggling and mewling with anticipation—so close to your core yet so painfully away.
One flick of gaze up later he finally reaches between your legs again—the strategy and technique all the same but slower and patient. He spreads lube along your slit as he caresses it, working his way past the last knots of your hesitation. He teases and asks for permission until he's sure your gasps and spasms are genuine in every way possible, and even there, he takes his sweet time playing with your clit. In the heated rush you've almost forgotten how sadistic and stubborn he can be if only he wants to spoil you beyond the expectations. Soon he has every single one of your nerves taunt and at the mercy of his fingertips and midst your hazy mind you're thanking the conditions for giving you two so little time, otherwise he would boil you right there for painfully long hours.
Right as you're ready to beg for more, Ino finally makes his move, starting with a single finger this time.
"There we go, smooth and easy..." He's slow and careful, his eyes fixed on your pussy as he fills you up to his knuckle. "Such a good girl, Y/N..."
He adds another one and smirks down at your expression. Not caring about the mess, he tosses the bottle with lube away and lies beside you, chest flush to your shoulder. You feel his warm breath right by your ear, heavy and right on the verge of a needy groan; prolonging the fast has its great price and he's paying without a blink. It's so unbelievably hot to have him so worked up with only two fingers in you, to be so adored and needed that he's taut like a string on the verge of snapping, and his tongue is tying into knots as he's whispering dirty encouragements for you.
"My... You're getting so wet now..." His voice is throaty, tense and almost breaking, in the most sensual way. "Sucking me in... Can you squeeze a little more? Oh yes, that's right, that's a good girl, working so hard to take my fingers. Do you think you can take another one? I'll be gentle. You need to take it, if you want my cock, pretty girl."
His breathing hitches when you, indeed, take the third finger. Rutting against your side, his hard-rock length twitching in his jeans, he moans, loud and pathetic, at your cunt fluttering around his knuckles. His patience is on the verge of crumbling; even the gentlest and most loving boyfriend has his limits and Ino has pushed past them ages ago. Even midst the hot-red haze mantling your mind you can feel him struggling. His moves turn less precise and sloppy, once almost ceasing, once rushing and seeking that one last nerve to graze and snap. Along with willpower he's losing his focus, putting it instead whole into not cumming into his pants.
And yet, despite everything, he puts you in the first place.
"Fuck..." Ino flounders between words, trying to play two roles at once and win his prize in both of them. "It's so hot... Pretty girl, please? Can I fuck you now? Look, you're taking my fingers already... Fuck— You're taking them so well... Will you cum on them? I want you to cum. Please, cum for me, sweetheart."
He whispers a please after a please into your ear, abandoning stretching you for the sake of moving the remains of his focus to your clit. He rubs it fast and sloppily, far from ideal but makes up for it with desperation and not ceasing until your heels start to dig in the mattress and your thighs to spasm and shake. 
"Do it now, sweet girl." He trips over his words as if he was as close to the release as you're now, but he finds enough willpower to show dominance one last time before he finally pushes you over the edge. Your whole body spasms, the buildup and anticipation resulting in a strong, mind-numbing and exhausting orgasm. For a moment there's nothing for you but blank, overwhelming pleasure, white silence and dry, itching pain in your lungs, as if you forgot how to breathe when you were crying out his name.
You return to your senses with stickiness all over your skin and his hot breath pressed to your sweaty neck with a silent pleading for more.
Ino licks his lips when your gaze meets and smiles, as cheeky and proud of his work as impatient. His eyes are glossy, feverish, and his cheeks are flushed so much they're beaming with heat, "Are you okay?"
You nod, not quite having power to say something yet.
"Do you want more? Can I take you?"
Another nod—and a bright smile at his sudden, childish pounce at given consent. Ino's hands are shaking when he unbuckles and unzips his jeans; his fluffy happy trail leads your gaze towards his heavy, twitching erection and precum beading at its head, threatening to spill everything at the slightest friction. He doesn't do much better when rolling a condom on, almost dropping it straight out of the wrapping and dragging a dry spasm of laughter out of you.
"See what you're doing to me, you little minx?" He says once finally successful and squirts the last dollop of lube along his shaft. He spreads it with a few strokes—biting on the bottom lip as he's doing so, so close to his finish that even a loose, almost mechanical jerk of a hand is overstimulating—then finally takes his place between your legs.
He spreads your knees further open, pulls your hips closer and helps you rest your calves against his chest. Before he guides your ankles to his shoulders, he brushes a gentle kiss against the elastic band of one of your socks, then the mark it left before it slid down.
"Ready?" He asks, voice shaking, as he's rubbing himself against your puffy, sensitive clit: shallow, pleading thrusts that could as well just get him off right over you.
You nod again and your eyes flutter in pleasure as Ino wastes no time and slides in, with ease and a loud, guttural groan. He stills mid-way in, intense twitching inside of you calling for a fast finish, but he manages to calm himself down enough to press further, leading your knees towards your chest until he meets your limit.
"Holy shit..." Eyes closed, Ino bites on his lips almost to blood. Sweat pearls on his forehead, first droplets trickle down his temples, and his arms, supporting your legs, start shaking. "This is... Fuck, baby girl, I missed it... I missed you so much..."
He twitches harder when you trace his back, lets out a single dry sob when you run fingers through his hair and pull him closer to yourself. It's okay, he has worked hard for it, he can let go and just enjoy himself. You want to say all of this aloud, but only breathing and soft mewls feel right now—and he's too lost in it to hear all of that anyway.
His control snaps, from tranquil and nearly motionless he switches into the highest gear in seconds, and his deep, harsh, desperate thrusts pierce your body deeper into the soft mattress. It's primal and selfish, and the closest to using you Ino could ever get, each day of loneliness and pent-up tension written in the frantic and sloppy rhythm of his hips. It could have been too much for your body, so spent after an intense orgasm, but he doesn't last long, soon whining and moaning, and finally coming, with fingers digging into your thighs and head falling into the crook of your neck.
He's thrusting into you, at the end only rocking gently against you, until he has no cum and power left in him. He lets your legs slide by his sides and sprawls himself on top of you, heavy, sweaty, so hot against your barely pulled-up shirt and his jeans lowered just below his hips.
"Holy shit, I needed that." There's a trace of smile in Ino's voice—and even in his groan when he fails to pull out of you and has to collapse on you again.
With a pleased, agreeing hum you wrap arms around him and giggle when he finds some steam in him to nibble on your neck. The room is filled with your breathing, mixed musk of your bodies, and the barely audible but steady buzz of the electronics. Now, when nestled cozy with his body close to yours and his lips affectionately tasting your skin, the worry and tension that got in between the two of you feel so irrational that you want to laugh. How could you possibly feel so out of place when you had Ino by your side all this time? The rhythm of his heart and smell of his cologne alone have you feeling at home, safe, cozy and loved.
"How much time do we have left?" Ino fishes his phone from the back pocket, furrows his brows, displeased, when he glances over the screen. "Hey. Do you think we can make it with one more round, shower and a lunch in less than an hour?"
"Do you still have power left after that?" You giggle when he wriggles to find a comfortable position, tickling you while doing so. "You're crazy."
"Nah." He sinks teeth into your shoulder, playfully, but hard enough to leave a little mark. "I'm not just crazy. I'm crazy for you."
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thank you so much for reading ❤ i'll be really happy, if you reblog it and/or leave some feedback! you can read more of my jjk fics here.
tag list: @lale-txt @honey-deku @ohnococo
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lavendertalks311 · 5 days
Text
Attention ❀ Ino (Requested) Masterlist
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The late afternoon sun filters through the curtains, casting a warm, golden glow across the room. You sit cross-legged on the plush carpet, flipping through the pages of a magazine, occasionally glancing up at Ino.
He's seated at the desk by the window, immersed in what looks like a complicated blueprint, his brow furrowed in concentration. The sight makes you smile; he's always so focused when it comes to his work.
After a while, though, you start to feel a little neglected. It’s been hours since you two have had a proper conversation, and you miss his voice, his touch, his attention. You try to distract yourself with your magazine, but it’s no use. You want him to pay attention to you.
An idea pops into your head, and you decide to put it into action. Quietly, you get up and tiptoe towards him, grabbing a few sheets of paper from the printer on the way. You crumple one into a ball and toss it gently at him. It bounces off his shoulder and lands on the desk, but he doesn’t look up.
“Inooo,” you sing softly, dragging out his name in a playful whine. “Pay attention to me.”
The crumpled paper ball hits Ino's shoulder, but he remains fixed on his work, his concentration unbroken. You try again, this time with a slightly larger ball of paper, aiming for the back of his head. It hits its target with a soft thud, but still, he doesn't react. Determined to capture his attention, you gather up a handful of paper balls and start pelting them at him one by one, each one landing with a soft rustle on his desk or chair.
“Inoooo,” you sing again, your voice taking on a playful tone as you continue your assault. “Pay attention to meeee.”
Finally, your persistence pays off. Ino lets out a laugh, his shoulders shaking with amusement as he turns around to face you, a grin spreading across his face.
“What on earth are you doing?” he asks, amusement evident in his voice as he leans back in his chair.
You flash him a mischievous grin, holding up another paper ball. “Trying to get your attention, obviously.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, you definitely succeeded. What do you want?”
You pause, momentarily caught off guard by his question. You hadn’t really thought that far ahead; you just wanted him to stop working for a moment and pay attention to you. But now that you have his attention, you realize there’s nothing specific you need from him. You simply want to spend time with him, to bask in his presence and enjoy each other’s company.
“Nothing, really,” you admit with a shrug, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I just missed you.”
Ino’s expression softens, and he pushes his chair back from the desk, gesturing for you to come closer. “Come here, you goofball,” he says, patting his lap.
You obey without hesitation, crossing the room in a few quick strides and settling yourself onto his lap, your arms winding around his neck as you nuzzle into the crook of his shoulder. He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close, and you let out a contented sigh, feeling the tension melt away from your body.
“I missed you too,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “I’m sorry I’ve been so wrapped up in work.”
You shake your head, reaching up to cup his cheek and guide his gaze to meet yours. “Don’t apologize,” you say softly. “I know how important your work is to you, and I’m proud of you for all that you do. But sometimes, I just need a little attention too.”
Ino smiles, his eyes warm and affectionate as he gazes at you. “I know, and I promise to make it up to you. How about we take a break and do something fun together?”
You nod eagerly, a spark of excitement igniting within you at the prospect of spending quality time with him. “That sounds perfect.”
Ino’s grin widens, and he hops up from his chair, taking your hand in his and leading you towards the living room. “Great. Let’s see what mischief we can get up to.”
You spend the rest of the afternoon indulging in simple pleasures and enjoying each other’s company. You play silly games, share laughter and secrets, and just revel in the joy of being together. Ino’s attention is solely focused on you now, his work temporarily forgotten as he devotes himself to making you happy.
As the sun begins to dip below the horizon and the sky turns a fiery orange, you find yourselves curled up together on the couch, Ino’s arms wrapped around you as you watch the colors dance across the sky. It’s moments like these that make you feel grateful for the love and warmth that fills your life, and you know that as long as you have each other, you can weather any storm that comes your way.
And as the last rays of sunlight fade away, you lean into Ino’s embrace, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath your fingertips and knowing that there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than right here, in his arms.
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