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aesthetically-dying101 · 18 days ago

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Trainwreck

A/N: *sighs* can you guys guess who i wrote for? yes its nanami

warnings: innapropriate workplace behavior (this is all so unrealistic pls), thats mostly it, maybe a bit OOC? idk obsessive behavior, lowkey creepy

Nanami Kento prides himself on being a man of structure. He clocks in at 8:00 AM sharp, organizes his desk with ruthless efficiency, and approaches every task with a quiet, burning determination. But recently—recently, you’ve ruined him.

Completely, utterly ruined him.

You’re not even his boss. No, you’re her secretary. Just the secretary, really.

A pleasant smile in the hallway, the click of heels passing by his office door. You’re always polite, professional. Efficient. And yet, you’ve utterly dismantled every ounce of his composure.

He notices everything about you.

He notices too much.

The way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you're focused, the faint scent of your perfume (something floral but not cloying, clean and perfect). The way you laugh softly with the receptionist when you think no one is listening.

God, you never wear a wedding band.

He’s looked.

He’s ashamed of how often he’s looked.

He hates himself for it—hates the way his chest tightens when he hears your voice. Hates the way his thoughts stray in the quiet moments of the day, imagining what it would be like if you looked at him the way he looks at you.

But you barely notice him.

At least, that’s what he tells himself. Why would you? He’s just another cog in the machine, another suit with no significance beyond his output.

Nanami lets out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s supposed to be working, but instead, he’s replaying that moment from earlier today: the way you’d popped into the breakroom, looking fresh and radiant in that blouse that he’s now convinced was designed to torment him.

“Oh, hi, Nanami,” you’d said, smiling at him as you poured yourself a cup of coffee. It had been such a simple, innocent thing. And yet, his brain had short-circuited.

“Morning,” he’d managed, stiff and awkward, and he’s sure you noticed. God, why did his voice sound so clipped?

“You doing okay? You looked a little stressed in the meeting earlier.”

And that had really done it. Your concern—casual, effortless—had hit him like a freight train. He could barely stammer out a reply before you were gone, leaving him standing there, coffee untouched, his heart doing somersaults in his chest.

He wants to believe he’s subtle about it, but he knows better. He’s not subtle. Not when he hangs back in the breakroom just to hear you chatting with someone, filing away every detail like the pathetic little moth he is, hopelessly drawn to your flame.

“Yeah, no, I’m just focusing on work right now,” you’d said once, when someone asked if you had any plans for the weekend. No mention of a boyfriend. No hint of anyone waiting for you at home.

It shouldn’t matter, and yet it feels like the cruelest kind of hope, igniting in his chest despite himself.

Nanami leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He’s disgusting. Obsessed. You’re probably not even aware of his existence beyond the bare minimum. Why would you be? You’re smart, funny, stunning—and he’s just him. Dull. Predictable. The kind of guy women settle for when they’re tired of the fireworks.

But oh, if you ever gave him the chance. If you so much as glanced in his direction with anything resembling interest, he’d fall to his knees. Worship you. Do anything to make you happy.

It’s humiliating. The longing, the yearning, the ache.

And yet he can’t stop.

His thoughts spiral as the hours drag on, oscillating between bitterness and hope. He tells himself to stop—orders himself to focus—but his mind keeps circling back to you.

Always you.

The end of the day finally comes, and as he’s gathering his things, he hears the soft sound of your voice drifting from the hallway.

“Night, Nanami!”

You wave as you pass, the gesture casual but bright enough to light up the entire goddamn floor.

“Goodnight,” he replies, quieter than he means to. His hand tightens on his briefcase.

You disappear around the corner, and Nanami stays frozen for a moment, staring at the space where you’d been.

*-*

It’s Christmas in the office.

The annual “holiday celebration,” a thinly veiled excuse for everyone to slack off in the name of festivity. Nanami hates it—or at least he wants to hate it. Forced camaraderie, cheap decorations, music that grates on his nerves. It’s the kind of chaos he typically avoids.

But then you walk in, and every ounce of self-discipline he’s built over the years shatters into irreparable pieces.

The pencil skirt.

The goddamn Christmas-colored pencil skirt. It’s shorter than usual, clinging to your hips in a way that feels engineered to destroy him. The matching blouse, festive but just tight enough to drive him completely fucking insane.

It’s not fair.

You’re smiling as you step into the breakroom, chatting with a coworker, utterly oblivious to the wreckage you’re leaving in your wake.

Nanami’s pulse spikes. His gaze darts away, but the image of you is already seared into his brain, lingering like a bad habit.

He adjusts his tie, swallowing hard. Don’t be a creep. Don’t be a fucking creep. But then his eyes flick back, just for a second, and—oh no. Oh no, no, no.

His pants feel too tight.

He grits his teeth, clenching his jaw as he fumbles with a stack of papers on his desk. His hands tremble slightly. He’s mortified, but there’s no stopping it. Not when his traitorous brain is already spinning, conjuring images he really shouldn’t be entertaining in the middle of the office.

Images of you. That skirt riding up higher, your thighs bare beneath his hands. The sound of your laughter softening into breathless gasps. The way your lips would feel against his skin—

Nanami bolts.

He mutters something vague about needing a minute to no one in particular and beelines for the bathroom. The fluorescent lights are harsh as he leans against the sink, gripping the porcelain edge like it’s the only thing tethering him to sanity.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he hisses to his reflection. His tie feels like a noose around his neck.

He splashes cold water on his face, but it doesn’t help. Not when every time he blinks, he sees you. The soft curve of your waist, the way your hair catches the light.

Pathetic. He’s fucking pathetic. You’re just trying to celebrate the holidays like everyone else, and here he is, locked in the bathroom, wrestling with his own shameless thoughts.

The worst part—the absolute worst part—is that it’s not just the dirty shit. Oh, no. His brain is crueler than that.

He imagines quiet mornings with you. You in his kitchen, wearing one of his shirts, smiling at him over a mug of coffee. Your hand brushing his as you pass him a plate, the warmth of your touch lingering long after.

It’s insidious. It’s relentless. It’s everything he doesn’t deserve, and yet he wants it so badly he feels like he might choke on it.

Nanami drags a hand down his face, letting out a groan that echoes in the empty bathroom.

She doesn’t even notice you, idiot.

He stays there longer than he should, collecting himself—or trying to. Eventually, he straightens his tie, squares his shoulders, and forces himself to return to his desk.

But when he passes by the breakroom again, you’re laughing, radiant, and he knows this torture is far from over.

*-*

Nanami doesn’t mean to eavesdrop.

Really, he doesn’t.

But it’s impossible not to overhear you when you’re in the breakroom, talking to someone about the bouquet on the receptionist’s desk.

“Oh, these are lovely,” you say, your voice light and cheerful. “But if I had to pick, I’ve always been more into bold flowers. Red dahlias, spider lilies, roses—things like that. Dark, dramatic colors. They’re so beautiful.”

Nanami freezes in the hallway, a stack of files in his hands. His heart does this stupid little stutter, the same one it always does when he hears your voice. But now it’s worse because his mind is spinning with the image of you holding a bouquet like the one you’ve just described.

Red dahlias, spider lilies. The thought of you cradling those flowers, smiling at them, smiling because of him—he has to physically shake his head to clear it.

He’s pathetic.

He knows he’s pathetic. He clenches the files tighter, willing himself to keep walking, but the image won’t leave him.

Over the next few days, he thinks about it more than he wants to admit. He imagines walking into a flower shop, carefully selecting each bloom, making sure they’re perfect. He imagines handing the bouquet to you, watching your face light up—

And then he imagines the aftermath. You smiling politely, awkwardly thanking him, wondering why the hell one of your coworkers is giving you flowers.

No.

He can’t do it. It’s wildly inappropriate. He’s already teetering on the edge of unprofessionalism just by thinking about you like this.

But then, one quiet afternoon in the office, he hears you mention your birthday in passing.

“Oh, it’s in a month or so,” you say, laughing softly. “I don’t usually do much for it, though. Just a quiet day, you know?”

Nanami marks the date down the second he gets back to his desk. He feels like a creep for it, but the thought of letting the day pass without acknowledgment feels unbearable.

He’s spent weeks overthinking this, debating whether or not he should go through with it. But as he stands outside the florist that morning, the door handle cold in his hand, he decides he can’t let it go.

He picks each flower carefully: crimson dahlias with velvety petals, a few spider lilies that curl dramatically, and deep red roses. It’s a small bouquet—not too extravagant, just enough to feel thoughtful.

By the time he gets to the office, his palms are clammy, and he feels like he might actually pass out.

He doesn’t give it to you right away. He waits until the middle of the day, when the office is quieter and most people are out at lunch. He finds you at your desk, bent over some papers, your hair falling slightly into your face.

“Excuse me,” he says, his voice more formal than he intended.

You look up, blinking in surprise, and when your eyes land on the bouquet in his hands, they widen slightly.

“I, uh—” He clears his throat, trying not to fumble. “I overheard that it was your birthday today. Happy birthday.”

You take the bouquet slowly, your expression shifting from surprise to something softer—something warmer.

“Oh my gosh, Nanami, these are gorgeous,” you say, holding the flowers close to your chest. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“It’s nothing,” he replies quickly, shoving his hands into his pockets to hide how much they’re trembling. “Just… thought you’d like them.”

“I love them.” Your smile is radiant, and for the first time, he feels like he might actually be able to breathe again.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice sincere.

He nods, forcing himself to meet your gaze for just a moment.

“You’re welcome,” he murmurs, before quickly retreating to the safety of his desk.

But that's what happens in his mind, in his fantasy... in reality, he simply left those at your desk while you were in a meeting, though he did hear you gasp when you saw them.

As he sits at his desk, his heart pounding, he allows himself a small, private smile. For once, his yearning doesn’t feel quite so pathetic.

*-*

Nanami doesn’t mean to eavesdrop. Again. But it’s impossible not to hear you when your voice floats down the hallway like that, soft and full of joy.

The bouquet sits proudly on your desk, vibrant reds catching the fluorescent light, and you’re standing nearby, talking to another employee.

“I still can’t believe it,” you’re saying, your tone carrying this sweet mix of wonder and delight. “No one’s ever done something like this for me before. It’s just… so thoughtful, you know?”

Nanami, passing by with his usual quiet efficiency, freezes mid-step. His breath hitches in his throat.

“I mean, look at them,” you continue, gesturing to the flowers. “They’re perfect. Whoever picked these out really put a lot of thought into it.” You laugh softly, a sound that makes his chest ache. “I’m not even sure how they knew these are my favorites.”

He stands there, rooted to the spot, his pulse roaring in his ears.

She’s talking about me. She’s talking about me.

He feels ridiculous for the way his stomach twists, for the heat creeping up his neck. A grown man shouldn’t feel this way, shouldn’t feel this weak, over a few kind words. But goddammit, he can’t help it.

The idea that you’re gushing about something he did, that he made you happy, even for a moment—it’s enough to undo him completely.

“Whoever it was,” you add, your voice softening, “it’s just… it really made my day. Probably my whole week, honestly.”

Nanami swallows hard, clutching his briefcase like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. His emotions are a mess—a chaotic tangle of pride, relief, and something deeper, something that makes his throat feel tight.

He knows he should walk away. He shouldn’t linger here, shouldn’t keep listening like some lovesick fool. But he’s stuck, trapped by the sound of your voice and the warmth in your words.

When he finally moves, it’s with a heaviness in his chest that he can’t quite define. He makes his way back to his desk, sitting down and staring blankly at his computer screen.

*-*

Weeks bleed together in the monotony of office life, except for the moments where Nanami lets himself carve out little spaces of joy—tiny gestures that go unnoticed by most but feel monumental to him.

It starts with a single chocolate, placed carefully on the corner of your desk one morning before you arrive. Just a small thing, barely bigger than his thumb, wrapped in shiny foil. He doesn’t linger to see your reaction. He couldn’t stomach it, not when he knows he’d fold in on himself if you so much as tilted your head in confusion.

But the next day, you’re chatting with the receptionist, that same soft laugh spilling from your lips.

“It’s so weird,” you’re saying, holding the empty wrapper in your fingers. “I found this little chocolate on my desk yesterday. I don’t know who left it, but it was sweet. Made my morning, honestly.”

Nanami ducks his head, pretending to be engrossed in the stack of reports he’s holding, but inside, he’s practically vibrating. She noticed. She noticed.

He tells himself to stop, to leave it there, but he doesn’t. He can’t. The yearning is too big, too loud, and it demands an outlet, however small.

After a grueling conference one afternoon, he slips a bottle of chilled water onto your desk when you step away. Nothing extravagant—just a quiet act of care. You’re gone for no more than a minute, but when you return, you blink down at the bottle, tilting your head in that way he finds unfairly adorable.

“Huh,” you murmur, glancing around. “Did someone leave this?”

You shrug, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip, and Nanami has to fight the urge to look away too quickly, lest anyone catch the faint pink blooming across his cheeks.

It’s pathetic.

The way he lives for these small moments, like a man stranded in a desert, savoring droplets of water. Every tiny gesture, every unnoticed offering, feels like a prayer he’s too afraid to voice aloud.

He notices everything about you. How you seem to perk up on Friday afternoons, your shoulders relaxing as you chat about weekend plans. How you wrinkle your nose just slightly when you’re concentrating. How you hum under your breath when you think no one’s listening—a soft, tuneless sound that drives him to distraction.

He doesn’t need grand gestures. He doesn’t want them. He just wants to make your days a little brighter, even if you never know it’s him.

And god, does he yearn.

He daydreams when he shouldn’t, his thoughts slipping away from spreadsheets and into fantasies that make his chest ache. He imagines brushing your hair back from your face, the softness of your skin beneath his fingertips. He imagines quiet evenings, your laughter filling the silence of his apartment. He imagines the weight of your head on his shoulder as you drift off to sleep.

And sometimes—sometimes, when he’s alone, when the ache feels unbearable—he lets himself imagine things he shouldn’t. Things that make his heart race and his breath catch and leave him staring at his own reflection in shame after.

But he never acts on it. Never says a word. Instead, he keeps leaving his little tokens: a coffee cup placed carefully on your desk when he overhears you complain about a late night, a pack of your favorite pens after you mention running out.

You smile every time, and though you never suspect him, that’s enough. It has to be enough.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

*-*

You’re not an idiot.

No, you may be a little dense sometimes, but you’re not stupid. Someone has been leaving you small, thoughtful little gifts over the past few weeks.

And you have absolutely no idea who it is.

It started innocently enough—chocolate on your desk one morning. You didn’t think much of it at first, but then it kept happening. A bottle of water after a long conference, a cup of coffee after a particularly brutal meeting. At first, you thought maybe it was just a mistake, someone leaving things around and not realizing it was yours. But no, they were always right where you’d find them. Right when you needed them.

It’s sweet. Really sweet. But it's also starting to annoy the ever-living shit out of you because, for the life of you, you can’t figure out who’s doing it.

You’ve spent the past few days trying to narrow it down, your brain doing mental gymnastics over every damn interaction you’ve had at work. And frankly? You’re getting tired of it.

“Alright, let’s break this shit down,” you mutter to yourself as you sip your second cup of coffee of the day, pretending to focus on an email.

Option one: Your boss.

Ha. Right. She’s too busy scheduling her hair appointments to think about leaving chocolates on anyone’s desk. Plus, she’s got the whole “I don’t care if you live or die” attitude, so yeah, not her.

Option two: Kevin from accounting.

Kevin’s an idiot. A well-meaning idiot, but still. He’s the type to forget the coffee in the breakroom and then call it “the best thing ever” for two hours, as though anyone cares about his “discovery.” You’re not buying that.

Option three: That one guy from marketing, Tom.

You nearly burst into laughter just thinking about it. Tom’s an over-caffeinated golden retriever in a human’s body. He’s the type of guy who thinks sending a “Hey, just wanted to check in!” email twice a day is “checking in” on people. He probably couldn’t even remember to get a chocolate from a store, let alone leave it at your desk.

Option four: Nanami.

You pause mid-sip, blinking rapidly. Nanami? The quiet guy from finance? The one who barely says more than a handful of words in a meeting?

Now that’s an intriguing thought. He’s always… there. Always around, like a quiet shadow, observing. Sure, he’s not exactly filling the room with energy, but there’s something there, right? Something beneath that perfectly structured exterior.

You sigh, rubbing your temples. No way. That’s ridiculous.

But then you think about it. Nanami’s the type of guy who doesn’t get distracted by office chaos. He’s methodical. Focused. The guy who lives on routine. He’d be the one to sneakily notice when someone’s overworked and needs a small pick-me-up. He’s just... quiet about it.

But then again, who leaves water bottles, chocolates, and coffee? It’s not like he’s ever said anything about it. Not a single “hey, I thought you might like this,” or anything remotely close to an acknowledgment. Hell, he doesn’t even smile much.

God, he’s so damn mysterious it makes your head spin.

You glance over at his desk. There he is—quiet, as usual. Focused, pretending the world isn’t falling apart around him.

It could be him.

But no. You shake your head, dismissing the thought immediately. He’s not the type. Right?

It’s just… weird. And you’re not even sure why it feels so weird. Maybe it’s just the fact that you’ve got a secret admirer at work, which is fucking hilarious because it sounds like something out of a shitty rom-com you wouldn’t even watch if someone paid you.

"God, I’m going insane," you mutter under your breath, checking your watch. "Seriously. Who the hell is doing this?"

*-*

It took weeks.

Weeks of small gestures.

You’ve figured it out.

It took some careful observation, a bit of deduction, and honestly, a lot of staring at Nanami when he wasn’t looking. But there’s no doubt in your mind now. The quiet, stoic, almost painfully composed man from finance—the one who always has his tie perfectly in place and whose voice could melt butter—he’s your secret admirer.

And oh, it’s delicious.

At first, you weren’t sure. Nanami wasn’t exactly the type to scream “hopeless romantic” or even “mildly interested.” But the more you watched him, the more obvious it became. The way his eyes linger on you just a second too long, the way he tenses when you get too close, the way he seems to disappear right after you find something thoughtful left at your desk.

You caught him once, hovering near the break room as you raved to a coworker about the flowers. He didn’t say a word, but the way he froze mid-step, his jaw tightening ever so slightly? Yeah. That was all the confirmation you needed.

And honestly? You’re thrilled.

Nanami’s hot. Not just conventionally attractive, but smart-hot, the kind of guy who could ruin you with a PowerPoint presentation and a sharp comment about fiscal responsibility. He’s also maddeningly composed, which makes you want to poke at him, see what’s underneath that calm, collected exterior.

So, naturally, you decide to fuck with him.

Just a little.

You can feel the tension building in the air as you move through your day, the little comments, the subtle glances. Nanami’s still trying to play it cool, but it’s clear. He’s a mess. You can see it in the way his eyes dart away when they linger on you a second too long. You can hear it in his voice when he answers you—a little too stiff, a little too forced.

So, you decide to push him.

You start small. Little things. Nothing too obvious, just a few well-placed gestures to see how far you can take him before he finally snaps.

You walk past his desk, and you’re definitely not trying to make sure your skirt hugs your hips just right. You bend over just so to grab a file from your bag, letting him get a full, uninterrupted view of your cleavage.

You’re certain he’s trying not to look—hell, you can practically feel him forcing his eyes up to the ceiling, but you know. You know he’s been watching.

When you straighten up, you glance at him out of the corner of your eye. He’s gripping his pen like it’s a lifeline, his knuckles pale, and his jaw is tight. You smirk, leaning in just a little closer.

“Need something, Nanami?” you ask, the words dripping with an edge of playful mischief.

He swallows, clearly doing everything in his power to maintain his usual stoic expression. “No,” he replies, too quickly, voice clipped. “I’m fine.”

You laugh lightly, keeping the tension alive as you pull away. You can practically feel the heat radiating off him. Oh, this is too good.

You don’t stop there, though. No, you want to see how much he can handle.

The next day, you make sure to wear a skirt that’s just a little tighter, just a little shorter than usual. The fabric clings to you in all the right ways, and when you walk past Nanami’s desk, you make sure to let your hip brush against the edge of his desk, just lightly enough to catch his attention.

As you bend down to grab a report from the printer, you give him the tiniest, most casual look over your shoulder. You’re sure you catch the way his eyes flicker down to your legs before he quickly looks away. Gotcha.

You straighten up, tossing your hair over your shoulder as you walk back past him, barely stopping yourself from humming in satisfaction when you feel his gaze linger on the curve of your back.

It’s all too easy.

And now? Now it’s time to turn it up a notch.

You’ve been toying with him for days now, watching as he stiffens every time you get a little too close, testing how much he can take before his composure cracks. You see the way his breath catches when you “accidentally” brush your arm against his as you pass by. He doesn’t say a word, but you know. You can see it in the way his eyes flash with something darker, something needy, before he shifts uncomfortably in his chair.

You know what you’re doing to him.

And you’re fucking loving it.

*-*

For two weeks, you’ve been shamelessly pushing Nanami to his limits.

You flirt, you linger, you brush your hand against his arm just a little too long, your skirts are shorter, tighter—designed to test the boundaries of his sanity.

And he notices.

Oh, he notices.

But what you don’t see is what’s going on beneath that perfectly calm, stoic exterior.

Because Nanami is losing his fucking mind.

Every look, every casual touch, every time you lean just a little too close—it’s like pouring gasoline on the fire inside him. He’s never been this affected by anyone, and now it feels like he’s constantly teetering on the edge of a cliff.

He tries—he really does—to keep his composure. He’s a professional, damn it. A man of control and discipline. But you? You’re unraveling him piece by piece.

*-*

She knows. Oh, God, she fucking knows. Why is she looking at me like that? Is she doing this on purpose? She’s doing this on purpose. That skirt—did it get shorter? That’s not appropriate for the office, right? Should I say something? No. No, shut up, you idiot. Just focus on your work. She’s walking toward you. Act normal. Act—

“Hey, Nanami, could you help me with something?” you ask, your voice sweet, with just the faintest hint of teasing.

His throat goes dry. He looks up, forcing his expression to remain neutral, professional. “Of course. What do you need?”

You lean closer, your hand brushing his shoulder as you point to your tablet. “I can’t figure out this formula. Can you show me?”

He doesn’t miss the way your perfume lingers in the air, soft and floral, and it’s driving him mad.

“Sure,” he says, his voice even, betraying nothing of the way his heart is hammering in his chest.

But inside? He’s screaming.

*-*

This is a problem. She’s doing it on purpose. She has to be. That look she gave me this morning? That wasn’t casual. No, that was calculated. She’s testing me, trying to see how far I’ll go. Does she know how much I—

He can’t even finish the thought. Because the truth is, his daydreams are becoming increasingly inappropriate, increasingly desperate.

He imagines you sitting on his lap in his office chair, your arms draped around his neck as you laugh at something he said. He imagines kissing you—soft at first, then deeper, more passionate, until he’s completely lost in you. He imagines everything he wants to do to you, and it’s enough to make him clench his fists under his desk, trying to hold himself together.

*-*

One afternoon, you’re standing next to his desk, going on about some report, and he can’t take it anymore. You’re wearing a dress that hugs you in all the right places, and the way you’re looking at him, with that mischievous little glint in your eye—it’s too much.

“Enough,” he says, his voice low, controlled.

You blink, taken aback. “What?”

He stands, towering over you, his jaw tight, his eyes fixed on yours. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what?” you ask, feigning innocence, though the slight curve of your lips betrays you.

“This,” he says, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “The teasing. The looks. The... whatever this is. If you’re trying to drive me insane, congratulations. You’ve succeeded.”

You grin, your eyes sparkling. “Oh? And what are you going to do about it?”

He hesitates for a fraction of a second, then takes a step closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’m going to ask you on a date.”

Your grin widens, and you cross your arms, leaning in just slightly. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” he says firmly, his confidence unwavering now. “Saturday. Seven o’clock. I’ll pick you up.”

You laugh, the sound light and genuine, and he feels his chest tighten all over again.

“Okay, Nanami. You’ve got yourself a date.”

*-*

The date is perfect.

Nanami shows up at your door precisely at seven, looking sharp in a navy suit and holding a small bouquet of red dahlias—your favorite. Dinner is a mix of light conversation and laughter, the two of you falling into an easy rhythm that feels like you’ve known each other forever.

When he walks you back to your apartment, the air between you is warm, charged with something unspoken.

“Want to come up?” you ask, your voice soft, your eyes searching his.

He hesitates for half a second before nodding. “Yes.”

*-*

Your apartment is cozy, filled with little touches that are unmistakably you. Nanami takes it all in—your bookshelves, your mismatched throw pillows, the faint scent of vanilla in the air.

But then you’re there, standing close to him, your eyes meeting his, and everything else fades away.

The first kiss is tentative, a soft meeting of lips that quickly deepens as he pulls you closer, his hands resting on your waist. You sigh against him, your fingers threading through his hair, and he groans softly, losing himself in the warmth of you.

“Nanami,” you murmur, pulling back just enough to catch your breath.

“I hate you,” he says, his voice low, a teasing smile playing at his lips.

You laugh, your forehead resting against his. “Do you?”

“Yes,” he whispers, pressing another kiss to your lips. “I hate the way you consume my thoughts. I hate the way you make me feel so... so...”

“Alive?” you offer, grinning.

“Exactly,” he murmurs, kissing you again, slower this time, like he’s savoring the moment.

Before things can go further, your cat jumps onto the couch, meowing loudly, and you both break apart, laughing.

“Excuse me,” Nanami says, his voice soft but firm as he picks up the cat and carries it to another room. “We need privacy.”

When he returns, you’re still laughing, but he silences you with another kiss, his hands cradling your face.

Between kisses, he whispers things that make your heart ache in the best way.

“You drive me crazy... but I don’t want it to stop. You’re everything I didn’t know I needed.”

By the time the night ends, you’re both a mess of tangled limbs and whispered confessions, and for the first time in weeks, Nanami feels like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

A/N: sorryyy, this might be ooc for him? im unsure...

Masterlist.

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cuntphoric · 1 month ago

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gojo is all about giving attention to you and all the right places! kissing you slow, taking time with each part of your body, treating every inch of you like it's his favorite thing to touch - he just LOVES worshiping you. and when it comes to cumming, he's all about making sure you're satisfied first, always making sure you're the one who's taken care of before he lets go. after, he'll hold you close, running his hands over you to massage you, his cock still throbbing against you as he pulls you deeper into the hug, soft and tender, like he's not just giving you just his body but all of him.

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morikosa · 3 months ago

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𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

Summary: After a bad meeting with the higher-ups, Gojo can't hold his temper any longer and takes it out on you with a momentary loss of control

Warnings: 18+ ONLY // MDNI — non-con, teacher x student, feral! Gojo, rough sex, age gap

Your eyes are on the clock; it's almost 10 p.m.

But Gojo still isn't home yet. He said he was in a meeting with the higher-ups and will come soon.

But he didn't. He didn't come.

You were starting to worry. You know he is the strongest; he can protect himself successfully, but you can't help but worry.

You called him several times, but he didn't answer his phone.

When you heard the sound of the door opening, you were startled but quickly got up from the couch.

He had arrived.

You went to greet her with a smile on your face, but when you saw him, you could tell something was wrong by looking at his face.

Normally, as soon as he walked in the door, he'd shout in happiness

''Your most handsome, perfect, the strongest sensei in the world has arrived. I bought a lot of sweets for us!''

He would hug, kiss you, and take your frail body in his strong arms, lift you, and spin you around.

But today, those displays of affection aren't here.

His brow was furrowed, he took off his blindfold and threw it to one side on the floor.

''Sensei, are you okay—''

He grabbed your wrist and started dragging you to the bedroom when you gently reached out your tiny hand to touch him.

''Damn old fossils.'' he muttered by himself

His usually cheerful demeanor was replaced with a steely, dark scowl. He was in a foul mood, and the last thing he wanted to do was to deal with your questions. He just wanted to relieve his anger.

He couldn't think properly

His grip on your wrist tightened as he dragged them to the bedroom.

Those old hags were getting on his nerves

Once you both entered the bedroom, he slammed the door shut.

''S-Sensei, what—''

Before you could even react, Gojo threw your body on the bed, his body against yours. He released your delicate wrist and cupped your face, forcing your head upwards.

''Shut up. Just take it.'' He growled, his voice low and intense. It seems he didn’t care about your feelings or the consequences right now. He needed this release, and he’d be damned if he didn’t get it.

He grabbed a fistful of your soft hair, pulling your head back slightly, and pulled you into a complex and fierce kiss

Your lip parted in surprise, and he took full advantage, slipping his tongue into your mouth. He kissed you like a man possessed, his anger seeping into the kiss, making it rough and demanding. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back slightly.

Gojo let out a growl, his large hand wandering down your body, sliding under your shirt, and feeling the smooth skin of your back. He squeezed the fleshy part of your ass, gripping you tightly, and then he moved to your front, gently caressing your chest.

He broke the kiss for a moment to take off his clothes, unbuttoning his shirt as he did so, revealing his toned, muscular chest. He shoved the shirt off his shoulders, then reached for your shirt, pulling it over your head, showing your plump breasts. He took them into his hands, kneading them gently like a stress ball.

Then, his large hand moved from your tits to the waistband of your skirt, pulling it down, exposing your smooth thighs. He slid his hand up, feeling your cunt through your panties. He moaned softly, the sound of his voice filled with pleasure vibrating against your lips.

He pulled away from the kiss, looking down at you with a hunger in his eyes. He whispered, his voice thick with lust. His hands moved to your hips, lifting you off the bed, and then he was positioning himself between your legs. He ripped off your panties, tossing them to the side.

He lined himself up with your entrance, his cock throbbing, and then he thrust into you in one hard motion.

Your eyes widened in shock when you felt his cock against your cunt

''Wait, sensei! I-I'm not ready—AH!''

You cried out in pain and shock; your body couldn't even adjust to the sudden intrusion. He gripped your soft hips, pulling you closer, and then he began to move without waiting for time for you to change his size, his thrusts deep and powerful.

Gojo's eyes were closed as he focused on the feeling of your tight walls gripping him. He moved in and out of you, his pace quickening.

You were frozen; you didn't know how to react. Usually, he would never get into you without preparing you…

You were scared of him right now. You couldn't dare to move.

''S-Sensei...''

The room echoed with the sound of skin smacking together, the pounding of his cock, and the soft thud of your body hitting his. His breathing grew heavier, and he panted as he continued his brutal assault on your cunt.

His eyes were closed, and he seemed to forget about your existence outside the need to release his pent-up anger and frustration.

''Those old geezers. And their stupid, ignorant decisions. They annoy me. ALL. THE. TIME.'' He growled with each thrust.

''Maybe I should just kill them already.'' He muttered in anger

He grunted as he began to pick up the pace; your tiny pussy was trying to stretch to accommodate his enormous cock.

Gojo wrapped his strong arms around your tiny body in his arms as he fucked you hard, burying his face in your neck, moaning softly as he felt your soft breasts against his muscular one. You were so small in his arms...

Unfortunately, you were not enjoying it; the only thing that you felt was pain.

And you understood what made him so angry; Higher-ups.

Probably in the meeting with the higher-ups, they said something that made him angry, and that's what caused it…

But he didn't have to take his anger out on you. You couldn't take it; you lashed out at him.

Your delicate arms wrapped around his body, and you started to sob and cry. Tears rolled down your cheeks.

''S-Sensei— s-stop. I-it hurts!''

Hearing your weak, trembling voice, Gojo’s eyes snapped open, your sobs ringing in his ears. He froze, his cock still buried deep inside you. His rugged grip on your soft hips loosened, and he looked down at you in horror.

He realized that your delicate, frail body was trembling, you were moaning in pain, and crying.

Finally, came to his senses.

But it was too late

He’d been so consumed with his anger and...

And he hurt you.

He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you.

No.

NO.

Gojo was the one who hurt you when he should have protected you.

The man you loved hurt you with his own hands.

He should have known better than to take out his frustrations on you.

He knew he should have stopped, should have realized how much he was hurting you, but he was so caught up in his anger that he completely forgot about your well-being.

Gojo pulled out his cock, causing you to yelp in pain as he left your stretched-out pussy. It popped free with a wet sound. A bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip.

He looked down at you, his expression a mixture of guilt, worry, and fear.

''Fuck! Sorry, Y/N-Chan. I-I'm sorry— didn't mean to hurt you. I— It's just... those old bastards.'' He muttered, his voice full of remorse.

He lay down beside you and took you in his arms, gently wrapped his scoliosis around your delicate body, rested your head on his dappled chest, and kissed the top of your head chastely.

''I don't know what came over me. I... I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you. I'm sorry. I never meant for you to get hurt.'' He apologized, his voice shaking as he held you close.

He pulled back slightly and gently cupped your face with his hand, thumb wiping away your tears. He gazed into your eyes with a look of sincere regret.

You were still sniffling slightly, but you had calmed down.

He hated this. Your tears must have been because of the pleasure he gave you.

Not because of the pain it caused.

But you were crying because of him.

''Please don't cry, pretty girl. I promise I won't do that again. I'm just frustrated with how things are, and taking it out on you is not right.'' He whispered, his voice laced with guilt. He leaned in, pressing his lips against yours in a tender, apologetic kiss.

''I care for you, Y/N-Chan. More than you know.'' He murmured against your lips before pulling away, his gaze never leaving yours.

You slowly buried your face in his chest and sighed. It was hard to be more angry with him when he was looking at you like that.

''I love you too, and I forgive you, sensei... just please don't take your anger out on me like that again... talk to me instead of it.''

Gojo smiled faintly when you forgave him. What did he do to deserve an angel with a beautiful heart like yours?

He could feel your heart beating against his chest, and he wrapped his strong arms around you, holding you close. He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of your hair.

''I won't, Y/N. I promise.'' He vowed his voice firm. He kissed the top of your head, his hand tenderly stroking your back.

He knew he had to be better and control himself better when angry. He shouldn't have taken it out on you; it was never fair.

''Now, let's forget about it, okay? Let's just enjoy the rest of the night after I get you cleaned up. You've got to be pretty uncomfortable right now, huh?''

You smiled against his chest, and when he felt it, he giggled gleefully and patted your silky hair

''Oh, and before I forget, Y/N-Chan. I'm taking you shopping tomorrow. You can use me as your walking wallet, haha.''

You giggled, he always manages to make you smile.

''Sounds pretty good, sensei.''

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nanamis-princess · 9 months ago

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✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Your their passenger princess

Synopsis: just head canons about being their passenger princess:)

Genre: fluff

T/w: mentions of shoko smoking, bad driving lol, possibly oc geto? And misspellings

Nanami, gojo, geto, shoko, megumi, yuji & nobara (separately) X reader

Nanami

-he always has his free hand on your thigh or holding your hand. His thumb brushes over your thigh/thumb gently but if it annoys you he stops.

-steals glances at you while at red lights, giving you a soft smile as the light turns green

-he cant help but laugh if you guys miss an exit because you thought it was a bit further down.

-he doesn’t mind listening to what you pick, he’s kinda the type to listen to a podcast while driving tho. Or an audiobook.

-when you type in the location in his maps you see his favorite places saved. Your favorite stores & restaurants are saved, along with his favorite bakery ofc.

-he’s a very safe driver but you can’t tell me his not putting across you if the car has to come to a abrupt stop.

-he has beach scented air fresheners in his car.

-has a photo of you at the beach holding up a seashell, clipped to a photo of Haibara in his visor.

-keeps mints/ gum in his car at all times along with a lint roller (he’s a cat dad)

Gojo

-his free hand is always on your thigh

-asks you to feed him while he’s driving, he accidentally bit your finger before and offered to kiss it to make it feel better.

-he’s a safe driver for the most part but he has his moments. He’s like a 100% positive there was never a stop sign there.

-he misses his exits a lot. Like a lot, a lot.

-his car smells like his cologne.

-has an extra pair of his iconic glasses on his visor along with a photo of you and Megumi sitting at his favorite ice cream spot.

-likes driving to beautiful nature areas with you after making a snack run.

-needs music on at all times, he requests song but then just ends up making a bunch of playlist for you guys. But don’t worry you are still his DJ.

-always has a hoodie or jacket in his backseat that you probably end up stealing.

Geto

-always holds your hand while driving, he also brings your hand up to his lips and places a soft kiss.

-his car smells like black cherry and his windows are tinted.

-a decent driver but does speed, not always while your in the car tho. Unless you like that kinda thing;)

-has a necklace of yours around his rear view mirror that you gave him

-loves doing those cute fast food date ideas where you pick the appetizer, he picks the main meal and you pick the dessert.

-likes to make out with you at red lights until it turns green and gets honked at.

-while he lets you pick the music you find a playlist with your name as the title its songs that remind him of you. He has another one of music you’ve played before.

-has a case of water on the floor in the backseat along with a blanket.

Yuji

-he most likely keeps his hands on the wheel or tweaking with something as he drives but likes holding your hand while driving. Sometimes puts his hand on your thigh.

-always has your favorite candy or gum in his glove compartment.

-requests like two different songs at once but tells you which order to play them in. “They just pair together well” he laughs as you type all that in.

-like Gojo always has a hoodie in his backseat along with a pair of sneakers and a water bottle he forgets about.

-also has random papers in the backseat that he keeps forgetting to look at

-he’s also a decent driver, but when your in the car he’s more aware. Not that he’s less likely to be careful but the last thing he wants his to hurt you or someone else.

-has a group photo of you, him, Nobara and Megumi in his visor.

-his car keys have a matching keychain that he shares with you.

Megumi

-it’s a small gesture but he loves holding your hand while he’s driving. Gives it a gentle little squeeze from time to time along with a kiss on the back of your hand.

-has LED lights at the bottom of the car that he keeps red for most of the time but lets you change the color.

-before dating you he didn’t really use air fresheners but he found one that reminded him of your perfume/cologne.

-gives you full control of the music

-relies on your directions more than the map because up he always misses the exit.

-there is a little dog hair in his backseat that he tries his best to get out lol, he didn’t keep a hoodie or blanket back there until he started dating you.

-has a car charm with your first initial around his rear view mirror.

-doesn’t mind if you eat from his food as he drives, he will give you his last fry, or chicken nuggets.

Nobara

-holds your hand while driving but doesn’t mind if you put your hand on her thigh.

-loves driving around listening to music with you if you don’t have a set destination. If you have a set destination (and she hasn’t been there before) she needs the music on low to focus.

-you guys have a playlist you add songs together

-has one of those mini trash cans that’s hooked to the backseat

-also has leather seat covers that matches her steering wheel

-going shopping with you and then getting a sweet treat after is her favorite thing to do on her day off, she’ll spoil you and herself until her backseat is full of shopping bags.

-she’s a good driver, no accidents and no tickets. But that curb is her enemy.

-her glove compartment has an extra hairbrush and lip gloss. She keeps things you use on the go too.

-keeps two hoodies in her backseat if you both get cold

Shoko

-she prefers having her hand on your thigh when she drives if she isn’t smoking

- likes to tease you by rubbing her hand up your thigh and gives it a little squeeze. She chuckles with a small smile at the effect that it has on you.

-has hair ties around her shifter and in the middle compartment she keeps a pack of cigarettes

-her car smells like caramel with a hint of nicotine

-she also wont smoke in the car if it bothers you or as a matter of fact around you in general

-she’s a very good driver but has parking tickets

-got you a head rest pillow in your favorite color to put on your seat

-also keeps a blanket that’s your favorite color in her backseat along with a bag hook if hanging on the pack of your seat A/N: hello cuties:3 it’s been a minute. This took me two weeks to write lolll, I’m in a bit of a rut & lacking motivation. More stuff is on the way tho 💕🌸

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chaepink · 1 year ago

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DAY 27: CHALLENGED ACCEPTED | SEMI-PUBLIC SEX & EXHIBITIONISM KINK

you've given your boyfriend a challenge: go through the day with a vibrator in him. he's sure he'll complete it with ease but he realizes it may not be as easy as he thought.

⋆ ࣪. ❤︎ PAIRING ⸻ itadori yuji x reader

⋆ ࣪. ❤︎ WARNINGS ⸻ dom!reader, semi-public sex-ish, exhibitionism kink, use of a vibrator, begging, teasing, a lil palming

⋆ ࣪. ❤︎ WORDS ⸻ 1.6k words

KINKTOBER EVENT

Itadori Yuji has always been up for a challenge and you know it. Most of the time, he usually completes it with ease which results in him bragging to you all day, annoyingly so.

So you decide to propose a interesting one that you think you have a good chance at winning to him.

"Y-You want me to wear a vibrator in public?" He sputters out a answer in shock, a faint blush on his face. His eyes dart to the small toy in your hands and the remote that controls it. The smirk on your face lets him know that if he declines, you'll definitely tease him for it.

"What? Too hard for you to accomplish? Too... risky?" You raise a eyebrow at him and he shakes his head immediately, his cocky and confident nature coming back to him. "Of course not! I-I can do it for the entire day if I wanted to, [name]." The last part of his reply makes you pause.

The entire day? Your mind quickly starts to think of what he would look like at the end of the day full of you teasing the vibrator in him. Will he barely be able to stay composed? Would he fall apart and beg you to help him sometime throughout the day?

You shake your head to get rid of the thought. "Is that a challenge?" Itadori widens his eyes when he realizes what he has said. But being with him for ages now, you know that he wouldn't take it back. So instead, he nods.

"So all I have to do is to make you fall apart using the toy and have you give up and you just have to stay composed and last the day, yeah?" He hesitantly nods and you smile, handing him the toy and keeping the remote for yourself. He stares at the toy with a pout, knowing that he's in for a surprise.

"Challenge accepted, then."

---

So far it's been a couple of hours and you're unsurprised at how composed he's being, assuming that his massive pride and ego are mainly keeping him from giving up. The thought has you rolling your eyes.

He's barely raised any suspicion from others- well, that's if you don't count the couple of stares he's gotten at his red face and stumbling. Though you've decided to give him a small break now that you two are at a grocery store.

While you're calm and collected as you survey the products on display, Itadori on the other hand can't help but be jittery and anxious. His eyes dart to you, waiting to catch you with the remote in your hands. At any time, you could catch him off guard and turn on the vibrator and it'll be embarrassing if you made him let out a whimper in public. Your challenge with him has been harder than he thought, and it quickly became one-sided.

All day you've been edging him with the toy in him. Whether it's turning it on low first before suddenly bringing the vibration setting to high or turning it on high for ages until Itadori swears that others will hear the vibration sounds if they get too close, you always turn it off right when he's about to cum. After all that, he's barely been able to hold it together, not when you've denied his release a couple of times already. He knows that you could suddenly turn the vibrations on to the max and make him cum right then and there if you wanted to but he knows you wouldn't do that just so you could have some fun with him.

"Itadori?" He snaps out of his thoughts when he hears you say his name and turns around to look at you.

"Yeah? Do you need- hmph!" The shock of pleasure abruptly hits his body when you suddenly turn the toy onto a high setting and Itadori's knees almost buckle at the sudden pleasure. He has to stabilize himself with a hand on the shelves behind him to keep himself from falling. An old lady looks at him with worry but he quickly gives her a smile and a dismissive wave.

Holding back a whimper, he accidentally squeezes around the vibrator, sending pleasure up his spine. His dick quickly becomes hard and he squeezes his eyes shut, the pleasure only intensifying.

"ah! o-oh god"

When he opens his eyes, he looks at you only to see an innocent smile on you though he knows better that you're anything other than innocent. You're the one who proposed this idea and the one controlling the vibrator in him, the one who has control over the outcome. He could get caught at any moment if he let out a loud noise or did something suspicious. Yet, for some reason, Itadori can't help but feel the excitement bubbling in his stomach. Does he want to be caught? No way, he thinks. But the twitch of his dick at the thought has him thinking otherwise.

You giggle at the sight of him and make your way towards him, cornering him against a shelf. Thankfully both of you are at the back of the store so there won't be many people around. With a hand barely stabilizing him, his face red as tomatoes, the quiet sound of vibrating coming from him, and the way he stares at you with pleading eyes that either beg you to stop or let him cum after so long, the sight has your stomach burning from desire.

If someone were to see the two of you, they would probably assume something innocent, that maybe you two just enjoy pda. But of course, they would be far from the actual truth.

"Are you handling it alright, baby?" You coo at him and Itadori widens his eyes when he notices out of the corner of his eye the remote in your hand. "P-Please-"

You tilt your head, feigning confusion. "Please what, Itadori?"

"Please uh- Please t-turn it off, I c-can't cum here!" His eyes are filled with panic when he feels his orgasm approaching quickly. "Why? Don't you want to cum so bad though? I've been holding you back all day, haven't I?" While it's true you have, the embarrassment of cumming in a store where there are people around has him shaking his head. The loud sounds of other people in the store flood his ears and he whines, his hands flying to your shoulders to grip onto.

"No? You don't?" You move closer to him and you move your mouth beside his ear to whisper in it. "Is it because there are so many people around? If you cum right here, right now, someone can just turn the corner to this aisle and notice how red you are and the wet stain on your pants and be able to guess exactly what happened here. But you'd like that, wouldn't you? Getting caught?"

He gasps at your teasing words and the way his dick twitches in his pants again. Your hand goes behind him and on his ass before feeling around for the vibrator in him. When you finally find it, you slowly push it deeper inside, making Itadori quickly cover his mouth with his hand to silence any noises that would bring people to the area. He feels the hand hover over the bulge in his pants and his breath hitches.

"W-Wait not here!" You grin as your hand begins palming the bulge in his pants, quickly feeling a wet stain start to appear. To see Itadori who's usually so composed, so cocky, all flushed, and barely able to stand up by himself right now in public has your heart racing. A small cry leaves him when he feels the vibrator become even more intense than before, grazing the spot in him that makes his legs weak.

"F-Fuck fuck!" You shush him and shake your head at his outburst. "You have to be quiet or we'll get caught, okay? Don't you want to cum?" Hesitantly, he nods at you.

"Could I? Please?" You laugh. "But that'll mean you lose the challenge, doesn't it?" Itadori lets out a whine at the mention of the challenge. That's the last thing he's thinking about right now, all he wants to do right now is cum!

"D-Don't care, let me cum please!" He shoves his face into the crook of your neck, muffling the noises and whatever he tries to tell you. But with the remote still in your hand, you suddenly turn off the toy and take your hand off his bulge.

Itadori lets out a muffled sob at the loss of pleasure as you coo at him. "You can wait a little more, right? You'll be good for me, won't you?" He nods quickly and you peck his cheek with a smile.

"Be a good boy for the rest of the day, okay? I'll reward you if you're able to keep it together." He nods with a whimper and you back away, pretending as if nothing ever happened mere seconds ago. He swallows and shivers at the feeling of the vibrator in him turning back on, not having realized that it turned off before in the first place.

He never wished for the day to end faster than ever. All he can think about is what you'll do with him later.

🏷️: @Vealize21 @fabitheraven @sourissue @jksstuffposts @gallantys @tired-of-life-86 @ineedsleeporilldie @aphoneixnamed-angel @flawlessvictorymentality @wowonamo @euphiroo @saintravey @tomiokx @archer-fb @d1gitalbathh @Lifesucksweswallow @rxflen @aspengagrimlin @ilovemenwhowhimperandbeg @deffnotstarguys @laraleafs @lamees004 @literary-latte @cl-0-vr @qweenjx @katebaku7710 @yenakwyl @katsuslover @mysicklove @fairyvibez @someonepleasesedateme @arminsesposa

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sleep-0-deprived · 1 month ago

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Nanami x ftm reader thoughts~! ૮꒰ྀི ෆ ˃̣̣̥ ⤙ ˂̣̣̥ ෆ ꒱ྀིა

Tags: pure NSFW, vaginal creampies, slight breeding, eating out, Afab on Amab sex, office sex, under the desk blow jobs, slight degrading <33

A/N: I’ve been doin a’ lotta Amab reader works s’ I figured I’d feed m’ trans sweethearts too !

Taglist: @asher-is-hotxp @yyuinaa @silvern1006 @kimisbunny @unstab1eperson2

Just thinkin bout sextin Nami while he’s at work, sending pics of you in his fav pair of lacy panties with the frills around your pretty thighs, him responding with a message tellin you to “knock it off, I can’t afford a hard on right now [name]” but you just won’t listen will you?…oh how you could practically hear his teeth gritting and that vein bulging on his forehead when he’s all irritated…oh god you’re wet at the thought- did you just send him a pic of that? oops.

Just thinking bout Nanami comin home from a long day of work, his cock is all hard and he’s pent up from those skimpy pictures of yourself but he doesn’t touch you, he walks in the room only to look at you N’ take his tie off along with his coat before walkin off to his study in the house, he leaves you so pent up and desperate that you have’Ta beg him to even let him permit you to give a blow job before he even considers fuckin your needy cunt. Nami just grumbled on about “you want your pussy fucked then earn it— apologize for teasing me at work” he’d leave you sobbing and whining out apologies around his dick.

Just thinkin bout Nami being totally cruel with your pussy, he fucks you bent over his desk raw, his hips slap your ass cheeks flushed Nd’ he just croons you on talkin bout “y’know it deserves it for bein so greedy— if it wasn’t so needy then maybe you’d listen more” he’d talk and have full on conversations with your cunt while his tip pulses against your womb leaving a throbbing feeling between your thighs, he’s the type of man to dirty talk your cunt like you aren’t even in the room, Nanami forces his loads inside you, he may seem so tame N’ cold but his seed is your punishment. Nami makes you feel his load inside your swollen insides all day leaving you feeling bloated N’ sick.

Just thinkin bout Nanami’s idea of affections, if he’s a little too rough with your pussy he’ll be all affectionate with it by peppering kisses on your clit while he jus massages your thighs and makes out with your lips whispering bout how he “didn’t mean to be so mean on his pretty baby” Nanami is either a sweet talker or he’s cruel. Nami is vanilla with sex he’s a man with old ideals and old fashioned morals so oral and penetration is all he does unless you wanted to try something new, Nanami may be rough and fuck you hard but he doesn’t have a lot of other kinks besides that and maybe if you ever get him to admit it he does wanna see you all knocked up by him.

Just thinking bout you and Nami being together for a real long time. You two have been together long enough that kids have been mentioned, you’re in the middle of getting your insides wrecked by his cock and you already have two loads pumped inside you and all nami can do is heave in your ear “wanna give you my kids— I wanna knock this pretty pussy up-“ his platinum hair is a mess and his hand is wrapped around under your thigh lazily rubbing your clit while he fucks your pussy loose and has your puffy petals all wrapped wide around his girth making your labia look extra swollen from his cock.

Just thinking bout Nami biting your breasts at night when your binder is off, he knows your tits are all sensitive and your nipples are puffy but his if he doesn’t love to drool and make out with them like he does your pussy, if he’s lucky and you feel like it he loves squishing your tits together with his cock between them makin you open your mouth and stick that pretty little tongue out…he loves watching your nose scrunch at the tender feeling of the boob job you were giving him, his tip pressing to your tongue with every thrust makin you taste his precum before he strokes his cock at the end and finishes with his cum getting all over your mouth and chin, shooting down on York breasts leaving you a sticky mess while he grunts out “there’s a pretty boy”

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mr-bas00nist · 7 months ago

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Oooh I’d love to see gojo seem cocky with their boyfriend saying how he’s such a top and will dom the crap either just to you or in public too

This could either go:

A. He’s been lying and gets punished the second he gets home for being a brat

B. They’re about to have their first time and gojo tries to dom but fails and we top him instead 💙

Show Him Who’s Boss

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.-Gojo Satoru x Dom!Male!Reader (B has been chosen 🫵🏽)

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.-Cw: Degradation, daddy kink, fingering, choking, spanking, handjob, facial and edging

It was no mystery that Gojo Satoru was a confident bordering narcissistic man. Being fed the ‘I’m the best’ mindset since a child. Satoru in a way was like that kid who never graduated from being the fastest in elementary. Although, it wasn’t his fault, he had every right to be narcissistic with how skilled he was.

But that didn’t mean he had the right to be a narcissist in every situation. When he met you, he was immediately drawn in by your confidence and smugness. He’d never admit it, but he loved men who didn’t back down from him. Deep down he kind of wished someone would put him in his place.

Each date you two had that made it even more clear. Satoru loved how you carried yourself and he loved being attached to your hip. It was the fourth date, you two were at a fancy restaurant courtesy of Satoru. It was the fourth date so a lot of small worries of coming off awkward or too strong were thrown out the window.

That was pretty obvious when you two easily landed on the topic of sex. Both having no nervousness with the topic. “So, your usually the dominant one in your sexual escapades is that right Satoru?” You asked with a questioning tone as you raised an eyebrow.

He sat up a bit as he felt his cheeks flush. “Hmm? Oh ya, I make a lot of guys cry.” He smirked to himself. You couldn’t help but question that. He talked about it like a virgin would and you tilted your head.

“Wow, bet guys fall face forward onto the bed for you huh?” You spoke sarcastically, obviously he didn’t pick up the sarcasm. “Yeah! You get it, bet you’d love to be dommed by the strongest huh?” He smirked and it took you everything to not roll your eyes.

“Well, why don’t we head back to your’s or my place and test that hypothesis hmm?” You spoke in an innocent sounding tone as he smiled brightly to himself. Like it was the first time someone agreed to go back home with him. “Waiter!” He shouted waving the man over.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Satoru’s penthouse was a sight to behold. It was obvious though that the man enjoyed the more luxury things in life. You knew that from the first date with the white haired male. You took your shoes off as you walked in looking around.

Satoru looked over you excitedly as he could feel himself twitch through his slacks. He’d been waiting for this moment all night! “Bedroom’s this way.” He smirked to which you smiled putting your hands in your pocket as you followed closely.

As you entered the air conditioned bedroom, Satoru closed the door behind you guys as he tackled you in a kiss. As you two sat on the bed you immediately noticed his sloppy technique. It wasn’t sloppy like someone who was just desperate, it was sloppy like someone who’d never made out with someone before.

“Slow down won’t you Satoru?” You inquired to which he stuck his tongue out with a smile. “Whattt??? Can’t keep up???” He laughed to himself, confidence radiating from his expression. “No, feels like you’re trying to eat my face off.” You retorted to which he flushed as he looked away with an awkward smile.

“Well? You have me under you. What now Satoru?” You asked as he paused for a moment. What did he do? He looked like a deer in headlights. “Oh uh- yeah, you’re not gonna be able to walk when I’m down handsome!” He exclaimed as he gripped your belt.

He pulled your jeans just below your pelvis as he saw the large bulge in it. He immediately gulped as he anxiously reached into your boxers as he pulled out your semi hard cock. He looked wide eyed, like it was an alien artifact. “You look awfully nervous Satoru. Like it’s gonna bite you.”

You smirked as he gave you a look. “Usually the guys I uhm… fuck, don’t have any this big.” He lied through his teeth. He sure wasn’t the strongest liar. But you played along. “Think you can give me a handjob?” You teased.

He immediately took it as a challenge as he nodded. He put his hand on your shaft as he began stroking with no real technique. He spit down on your cock as he looked up to see how you were feeling. You just stared at him with lustful eyes.

He immediately looked down embarrassed as he continued stroking your aching flesh. You let out soft moans at his surprisingly soft hands. It was a few minutes from his messy technique of fisting, spitting and toying with your cock when you felt that knot in your stomach. You were just about to hit your high when he stopped completely.

Your eyes snapped open with annoyance as you looked over to his smug smirk. “Heh, bet you really wanted to c-“ he let out a yelp as you pressed him down into the mattress. “Listen you fucking virgin, your about as convincing as a kid who broke his parents vase. I was gonna let you off the hook, do your own thing but then you have the nerve to edge me???”

He was immediately taken aback by your harsh tone, and if he wasn’t hard then, he was rock hard now. “I-I’m not a virgi-“ he let out a yelp as you slapped his face. He immediately felt himself twitch as he almost came in his pants. “I suggest you stop lying to me, because if I smell bullshit, I’m coming for your ass (haha).”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Which is how you got Satoru naked and cryIng over your lap as you spanked his ass. “I said count you dumb bitch.” You rolled your eyes as you gave a particularly hard slap to his sore cheeks. Both globes of flesh were adorned with a pinkish shade of carmine. Pretty gossamer tears sliding down his cheeks as he wailed. “E-eighteen!” He shouted.

You roll your eyes giving another slap. “Stop yelling, don’t want your neighbors to here how much of a bitch you are. Unless you do. You seem like the type.” You rubbed his ass as he muttered a small nineteen. His cock was leaking pre cum on your thighs as it twitched at the sound of every harsh degrading word.

“Now, be honest…. Your a virgin right?” You questioned. Satoru could either lie and say no, or he could tell the truth. What would give him the better outcome is the question. With a shaky deep breath, swallowing his pride, he whined out. “Yes…” he peered up onto your smug face.

“Good answer.” With a final slap, he spoke a shaky twenty out to which you just rubbed his sore cheeks. He was taken aback as you set him up on your lap straddling you. You slipped two fingers into his wet mouth as his eyes rolled back slightly. He slobbered all over your fingers with a soft moan.

After a few moment you pulled out as you prodded them against his ass. He jolted a bit as you gave him a look. “Stay still or I’ll spank you again.” He immediately stilled out as you slowly put one finger in. You dragged softly against his walls as you peered up at him. His flushed tip twitching.

One finger went to two, then to three as you began finger fucking him against the bed as he let out nosy moans. You smiled as he cried out, head against the pillow with legs around your hips. “M’ gonna- gonna!” Before he could cum you slipped your fingers out to which he sobbed.

“Oh shut up.” You rolled your eyes as you lubed yourself up, also squirting some on his hole. You lined yourself up with him as you looked at him, he gave a small nod of consent as you slipped in. He cried out as you stretched him to the limits. “Shit, you’re tight.” You licked your lips.

Once you were fully inside you wasted no time thrusting in and out as Satoru cried out. God was he vocal with moans and squeals. He couldn’t help it though! You were hitting his prostate soooooo goooooood!!!

You gripped his boney hips as you pulled him down onto your cock. “D-Daddy! Shit- fuck- more!!” He cried as you rolled your eyes. “Do you ever shut the fuck up?” You questioned as you put your hand around his throat as you applied pressure. Not enough to hurt but enough to make him feel lightheaded and to get him to shut up.

You smirked at his pathetic display as you felt him twitch around you. You stopped once more as you edged him again. “God- please!! I’ll do anything!! Anything, just please lemme cummmm~!” He whined out to which you hummed in acknowledgment.

“You gonna let me dom you every time from now on and admit you’re my bottom bitch?” You smirked down at him to which he nodded rapidly. You moved one of his legs over your shoulder as you wrapped your hand back around his throat. “Guess you can listen.”

Each thrust felt like it was hitting Satoru’s brain. You were so deep inside of him, he swore he felt his guts moving for you as you rammed into him. “How’s that feeling ‘Toru?” You licked your sweaty lips as his eyes rolled back. He was long gone.

You have his ass a slap as you brought him back down to earth. “‘Sho good! Feels good daddy~!” He exclaimed as drool poured down his glossy pink lips. Blue eyes filled with tears from the intensity. You went to wrap your hand around his cock and as you gripped it he was sent over the end.

He abruptly clamped down halting your movements as his spent cock spurted out strand after strand. “There it is, let out all that spunk baby.” You slowly pulled out of him as you straddled his chest while stroking your cock. You let out a few groans before you came all over his face.

He let out a small groan as your seed painted his sweaty face. His blue eyes peered up at you as you grabbed your phone, taking a photo of his cum adorned face. “So pretty like this ‘Toru.” You complimented as you observed the photo in all its glory.

The flash on the camera made his eyes close a bit from the brightness which gave him that dazed-fucked out look. There were spurts on his cheeks to hips lips and one on his left eye which resulted in him keeping it close. If you could frame the photo you would. You’d have to ask him first.

He shakily brought his thumb to his face as he swiped your cum into his mouth with lewd noises as he stared dead into your eyes. He popped his lips after as he stuck his tongue out to show you he swallowed. You let out a small groan at the sight as you felt yourself growing hard again. You slapped yourself against his face as he mewled.

“Round two baby.”

A/n: First Gojo request! Hopefully you guys like how I write him and this satiated a hunger lol.

#dom male reader #dom reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x male reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #jujustu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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heartz4gojosataru · 1 year ago

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So here's more.....

He got me in a mood

#gojo smau #gojo x male reader #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x geto #satoru gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #megumi fushiguro smut #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #jujustu kaisen #gojo angst #gojo saturo #satoru

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aesthetically-dying101 · 13 days ago

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Unattainable

A/N: the tittle is pretty self explanatory no? Nanami falling in love with a very powerful woman(i will be writing this prompt for other characters cause ehehhehee) I'm splitting this in two bc 28k is a lot in one go imo, so uhh.. yeah!

Warnings: pining, toxic relationship, divorce, one sided (?) love, lawyer stuff that i don't even understand

Part 2: Obtainable; Part 3: Mine

Nanami Kento prided himself on precision.

Every line in his life—meticulous.

His suits, his ties, his case files. He lived in sharp angles and straight paths, all in service of a life that didn’t leave room for chaos or frivolity.

And then there was her.

The woman who walked into every courtroom like it was built for her, like every strand of light had been arranged to illuminate her path. She wasn’t just successful; she was untouchable. The top attorney at the rival firm, her name carried the weight of whispered legends—cases no one could win but her, settlements that reshaped industries. She was elegance sharpened into a blade, and Kento hated how much he noticed.

He noticed everything.

The quiet gleam of her wedding ring. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was reading through contracts. The barely perceptible quirk of her lips when a witness lied. It wasn’t fair, the way she lingered in his mind like cigarette smoke, heavy and inescapable.

But the worst part?

She wasn’t his.

*-*

“Did you hear?”

Nanami stopped short outside the break room, the low hum of voices catching his attention. Two junior associates, whispering, and that was always dangerous.

“About her husband? Yeah, apparently, he showed up to one of the charity galas drunk out of his mind. Embarrassed the hell out of her. Can you imagine?”

“Ugh, he’s such a nobody compared to her. Like, what does he even do?”

“Finance, I think? But, like, not good finance.”

Nanami’s grip on the coffee cup in his hand tightened, knuckles pale against porcelain. He wasn’t one to indulge in gossip, but this—this felt like a thread he couldn’t stop pulling.

“He hates her success, doesn’t he? I heard he got into a screaming match with her once because she’s never home.”

“Probably because she’s busy running circles around everyone in court. I mean, who wouldn’t hate that? She’s—”

Nanami stepped into the room, silent and deliberate. The associates froze mid-conversation, one of them clutching a packet of sugar like it might save them.

“Oh, Mr. Nanami! Uh, good morning!”

“Morning.” His voice was cool, clipped. “If you have time to gossip, you have time to review case law. Get back to work.”

The room cleared faster than he expected, but the damage was done. Their words had lodged themselves in his chest, a splinter he couldn’t remove.

*-*

Her husband.

He’d only met the man once, at a legal conference where spouses had been invited. Nanami had seen him—a tall, thin man with an expensive watch and a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. His handshake had been limp, and the way he introduced her—“Oh, this is my wife, Y/N. She’s, uh, a lawyer”—had grated against Kento’s ears.

She’s a lawyer??? She’s the lawyer.

The woman every firm wanted, the woman judges respected, feared, adored. She was a force of nature, and her husband had reduced her to “a lawyer.”

He hated him.

The thought felt unprofessional, indulgent even, but he couldn’t help it. He hated him in a way that felt primal, instinctual.

And then there were the things he heard. How the man resented her hours. How he sulked when she won cases because it meant more press, more attention. How he’d once called her “intimidating” in an argument.

Nanami clenched his jaw.

I wouldn’t be intimidated, he thought bitterly. I’d be proud. If she were mine…

He stopped himself there because that was a dangerous road. She wasn’t his. She was married. She’d chosen someone else.

*-*

The next time he saw her was at a joint strategy meeting for a high-profile case. Her firm and his, teaming up for the kind of case that would make headlines for months.

She walked into the room like always: poised, graceful, devastating. A beige pantsuit this time, tailored perfectly, the sharp line of her jaw softened by the faintest hint of perfume. He knew the scent. He’d looked it up once after catching it in an elevator with her—amber and vetiver, grounded yet sweet.

“Nanami,” she said, nodding at him as she took her seat.

“L/N,” he replied, his voice steady. Always steady.

For the next three hours, he forced himself to focus on the case. He listened to her present her arguments, her voice even and measured, with just enough edge to cut through the room’s noise. He didn’t miss the way her fingers played with the edge of her notebook when she was thinking or how she leaned forward when she was challenging a point.

He never missed anything about her.

When the meeting ended, she lingered, packing her things slowly as the rest of the room emptied. Nanami hesitated, unsure if he should leave or stay.

“You look tired,” she said suddenly, glancing at him.

He blinked. “Do I?”

“Mm. You work too much, Nanami.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Her laugh was soft, but it lingered in the air, wrapping around him like silk.

*-*

Later that night, alone in his apartment, Nanami stared at his untouched dinner and thought about her laugh. He thought about the way she smiled when she talked to him, like they shared a secret no one else was privy to.

He thought about her husband, about the stories he’d heard, about the ring she wore and whether she ever took it off. He hated himself for wanting her to.

You’re better than this, he told himself. She’s married. You respect her choices.

But then the darker thoughts crept in. The ones he couldn’t suppress, no matter how hard he tried.

What if she made the wrong choice? What if he doesn’t deserve her?

And the worst thought of all, the one he would never say out loud:

What if I could be better for her?

*-*

Nanami's morning had begun like every other—a controlled chaos of legal briefs and phone calls. But in the hours between his neatly pressed suit and his perfectly arranged desk, there was always that fleeting moment when his thoughts wandered too far. Too far into a realm where he didn’t belong, where the crisp lines of his life began to fray and unravel.

Today was no different.

The buzz around the office had started quietly, like the murmur of a river before it swells into a full rush of noise.

“Did you see the broadcast?” someone whispered as he walked by. “Y/N L/N, that courtroom queen—she just destroyed that pharmaceutical company. It was beautiful.”

Nanami stopped, his chest tightening, fingers still gripping the handle of his briefcase. He could hear every word, every bitter syllable, even as he stood just outside the break room. Destroyed. A word that had no business fitting into any sentence when it came to her. She didn’t destroy. She won, gracefully. It was too easy for her.

A small pang of jealousy gnawed at his gut. He hated how the world watched her with such rapt attention, how they celebrated her every victory, while—he couldn’t help but think—her husband probably didn’t even care. Probably hadn’t even watched her obliterate that corporate giant. And that thought left a sickening taste in his mouth, a bitterness that threatened to choke him.

Didn’t cook her dinner, he thought grimly. Didn’t even pour her a glass of wine to celebrate.

That’s what he imagined, anyway. The image of her walking into an empty home after the televised event, no applause, no warmth, only the dull, detached presence of the man who had the audacity to call himself her husband.

He doesn’t deserve her, Nanami thought, but he knew better than to dwell on it. Respect her choices. Respect her choices, Kento.

He hated that mantra, the way it came to him unbidden, the way it made him bite down on his own thoughts, like there was some invisible boundary between them. Some insurmountable wall he couldn’t scale.

But today, today he was going to push it all aside. He was going to be professional. He would congratulate her, just like any other attorney would congratulate a worthy opponent. And then he’d go back to his perfectly ordered life, the one he could control.

*-*

The office door swung open with a soft click, and there she was, standing in the doorway, still in her perfectly tailored coat. The very embodiment of everything he could never have—grace, power, intelligence.

He took a breath.

“Y/N,” Nanami called out smoothly, his voice a touch too clipped, too formal. But it was his default setting. “Congratulations. That was an impressive win against that pharmaceutical company.”

Her gaze flickered up at him, briefly meeting his eyes, and for a moment, time seemed to stretch. It was like he could hear the beating of his own heart in his ears, the way his blood rushed in a deafening roar. His chest tightened. The walls inside his mind buckled.

She smiled at him—no, really smiled—her lips curving up slowly, like she had all the time in the world, and for just a second, the world felt like it narrowed down to the space between them.

“Thank you, Nanami,” she said, her voice soft, but it struck through him like a lightning bolt, sending a tremor through his veins.

And then it happened.

Her gaze lingered.

Just a little longer than it should have. Her eyes studied him with such quiet intensity, like she was searching for something. A flicker of something—a recognition?—crossed her face, but Nanami couldn’t place it. He was so caught in the moment, caught in her, that it felt like everything in him had shattered. His throat went dry, and his heart gave a sickeningly unprofessional lurch.

He felt it.

He felt it as if the very air between them had sparked, and it was dangerous, it was too much, it was everything. And yet, all she did was nod slowly. A small, controlled movement. She acknowledged him, gave him that faintest of smiles, and then—that was it.

That was it.

Nothing more. She turned her back, the soft swish of her coat disappearing into the corridor, her heels clicking against the polished floors like a drumbeat echoing in his mind.

For a long moment, Nanami stood frozen in place, blinking as if he had just been struck blind.

She smiled at me, he thought, barely able to grasp the words as they swirled around him in a dazed haze. She smiled. At me.

His breath caught.

He was still staring at the door, his entire body tingling with that inexplicable tension, that feeling as though something had shifted—something irrevocable. His fingers clenched around the handle of his briefcase, knuckles white.

No, no, no. It was just a smile. She smiled at me like she smiles at everyone, she’s just being polite. Respect her choices, Kento. Respect her choices…

But the words were meaningless. He could still feel her eyes on him, still hear the way her voice rang in his ears, soft but piercing. He could still taste that fleeting moment, the way time had stretched between them like a rubber band, taut with possibility.

His pulse quickened. His skin felt too tight, too hot, like he might break out of it at any moment. The thought of her smile, that slow curve of her lips, was enough to send him spiraling into something dangerously close to madness.

Don’t think about it, he told himself desperately. Don’t. Just don’t. It was a passing moment, nothing more.

But it wasn’t.

His eyes burned. His hands trembled. His chest was tight with the undeniable ache, the yearning, the impossibility of it all. She had looked at him. She had really looked at him.

Was I—was I about to faint?

It was ridiculous. Absolutely absurd.

But God, if he didn’t feel like he was on the edge of losing control. He could barely stand, could barely breathe. The thought of her—of that smile, that look—was consuming him, turning him inside out. He wanted to tear apart his own heart, rip out every unworthy thought, every unprofessional desire, and bury them somewhere deep inside where no one could see.

But all he could do was stand there, rooted to the floor, feeling like a fool. A pathetic fool.

And then, just as quickly as it came, the moment passed. Her footsteps were long gone, and Nanami was left standing alone in the hallway, staring at nothing.

He pressed a hand to his face, willing himself to breathe.

She smiled at me, he repeated in his head, a mantra now.

She smiled at me.

And as the reality of it hit him again, a bitter laugh escaped his lips.

*-*

Nanami’s apartment was quiet.

A small oasis of order amid the chaos of his mind, where every book was aligned perfectly on the shelves, every object placed with precision. He liked it that way—predictable, steady.

But tonight, the silence felt heavy. It pressed against him as he loosened his tie, the faint hum of the television filling the void. He wasn’t much for entertainment, but it was a Saturday, and after a week that had felt like a year, he allowed himself the indulgence of background noise.

He settled into his couch, flipping through channels with a practiced indifference until something caught his eye—a familiar face.

Her face.

Nanami froze, the remote slipping from his fingers as the image on the screen crystallized. It was you, seated in a pristine studio, her expression composed, poised. The anchor—a man with an overly polished smile—was gesturing animatedly as he introduced her, his tone dripping with false enthusiasm.

Nanami leaned forward instinctively, his hands clasped together, his chest tightening as the interview began.

“Ms. L/N, first of all, congratulations on your win. Truly remarkable work in the courtroom this past week.”

Y/N smiled, a small, practiced gesture. “Thank you. It was a team effort, as always.”

Nanami huffed quietly to himself. Team effort? She was too gracious. That case had been hers from the start—her strategy, her brilliance.

“But,” the anchor continued, leaning in slightly, “it’s not just the legal world that’s buzzing. People are curious about how you manage to balance such a demanding career with your personal life. It can’t be easy, can it?”

Nanami stiffened. He recognized the tone, the shift in body language, the glint in the anchor’s eye. The man wasn’t interested in her career. He was circling the personal, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

Y/N, however, remained unflinching.

“I believe balance is something we all strive for, regardless of our profession. I’m fortunate to work with talented colleagues who make that balance achievable.”

Good answer, Nanami thought, nodding slightly.

But the anchor wasn’t done. “Of course, with the recent news about your personal life—rumors of a divorce, if I may be frank—many are wondering how that’s been affecting you. Has it been a distraction from your work?”

There it was. The shift from veiled curiosity to outright prying, the question so thinly disguised it might as well have been written in neon.

Nanami’s jaw tightened. He didn’t know what was worse: the audacity of the question or the ease with which the man delivered it, like her life was public property.

Y/N tilted her head slightly, her smile unwavering but cool now, a subtle shift that only someone paying close attention would notice. Nanami, of course, noticed.

“I find it’s best to keep personal matters private,” she said smoothly, her tone neutral, diplomatic. “What I focus on is my work, and ensuring my clients receive the best possible representation.”

The anchor pressed on, undeterred. “Certainly, but doesn’t it become difficult to separate the two? Your personal life and your professional image are so intertwined.”

He’s a vulture, Nanami thought bitterly, his hand tightening into a fist on his knee. A miserable little vulture.

Y/N didn’t flinch. “I appreciate the question, but I think it’s important to remember that everyone, regardless of profession, deserves boundaries. My work speaks for itself, and I’d prefer to keep the focus there.”

The anchor hesitated, clearly unsatisfied with her non-answer. He shifted in his seat, his smile faltering slightly before he recovered. “Fair enough, Ms. L/N. Fair enough.”

Nanami exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly as the interview moved back to safer topics—her strategy, her future cases, the intricacies of the legal system. But he wasn’t listening anymore, not really.

All he could think about was the way she had handled herself. How she had parried every intrusive question with a grace that bordered on surgical precision.

She knew they’d ask, he realized. She knew, and she was ready for it.

It wasn’t fair. She was brilliant, successful, untouchable—and yet, the world still found ways to pick at her, to pry open the cracks in her armor and dissect what they found.

Her husband, he thought bitterly, the word itself leaving a sour taste in his mouth. He’s the reason they ask. The reason they treat her like a spectacle.

Nanami slumped back against the couch, running a hand down his face. He hated how much it bothered him, how much he cared. It wasn’t his place—it wasn’t. She was her own person, capable of handling herself in ways he could only admire from afar.

But the thought of her sitting there, enduring questions about a marriage that he suspected was crumbling under its own weight, made his chest ache.

He doesn’t deserve her, Nanami thought again, the words louder now, sharper. He never did.

And yet, despite it all, she had smiled. She had smiled at that anchor, at the cameras, at the world. She had smiled even though they had no right to dig into her life.

And then, she had smiled at him.

The memory of that moment earlier in the day returned with a vengeance, unbidden and unwelcome. Her gaze, the way it lingered just a second too long. Her smile, soft but knowing.

Nanami groaned, dragging a hand through his hair as if he could scrub the thought from his mind.

Get a grip, he told himself sternly. She’s handling it. She’s stronger than anyone you’ve ever met.

But somewhere, buried beneath the layers of admiration and restraint, there was a part of him—a small, dangerous part—that wanted to step in, to shield her from the world’s scrutiny.

And maybe, just maybe, to be the one who deserved her smile.

*-*

The night was humming, a soft murmur of chatter and clinking glasses reverberating through the grand hall. Nanami Kento had always prided himself on his ability to blend into any setting—his poise, his sharp suits, his even sharper mind, all made him a natural at events like these. The annual gala, a gathering of Japan’s finest lawyers and legal professionals, was no exception. His firm’s presence was important, the connections invaluable. Yet tonight, his mind was elsewhere, orbiting around thoughts he couldn't quite shake.

He had caught glimpses of her again, as always—Y/N L/N.

Every time they passed each other in the courthouse hallways or at various client meetings, it felt like a collision of two separate worlds. Her poised presence was something he couldn’t quite escape, not that he ever wanted to. But tonight, she wasn’t in sight.

Instead, he found himself standing by the bar, engaging in the usual small talk with colleagues. Yu Haibara, a financial adviser who had a reputation for knowing just about every rich and powerful person in the city, was chatting animatedly beside him. Yu was a good guy, a friend, someone Nanami had worked with on various cases involving finance and mergers.

Yu's face lit up as he leaned closer to Nanami, his voice lowering to an almost conspiratorial whisper.

“Did you hear?” he asked, his eyes practically sparkling with the anticipation of a juicy tidbit.

Nanami raised an eyebrow, already bracing himself for something that would inevitably be too good to be true. “What?” He didn’t hide the slight edge of curiosity in his voice.

Yu’s grin widened. “Y/N L/N, man. She’s apparently going to leave her husband.”

The words landed like a punch to Nanami’s gut. He swallowed hard, struggling to maintain his composure as Yu continued.

“You know I have friends in some pretty expensive estates—those high-end, discreet places where the real movers and shakers go. And apparently, she’s been looking. Alone. Looking for a place for herself.” Yu’s grin was practically smug now, as if he had delivered the news of the century.

The air around Nanami felt suddenly heavier. He should have been thinking about the importance of the gala, about his position in the firm, about making connections with other power players. But all he could think about was her.

She’s looking for a place? His mind swirled with the thought. She’s alone?

He cleared his throat, trying to keep his tone light. “Are you sure about that? I mean, there’s no way to know for sure, right?”

Yu gave him a knowing look, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, I don’t know for sure, but I know people who know people, Kento. And the word is definitely out there. Could be the start of something big, if you ask me.” He shrugged, clearly enjoying the effect his words were having.

Nanami’s thoughts were swirling. He tried to push back the rush of feelings—hope, confusion, a sense of desire so intense it felt like it could burn him alive. He wanted to ask more, but that would be too obvious, wouldn’t it? Too much.

He didn’t want to seem desperate.

He was about to respond when another voice slid into the conversation, cutting through the haze in his mind.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but did I hear that right?”

Nanami turned to see a woman standing beside them—another lawyer, someone he vaguely recognized from past events. She was tall, sharp, with a professional air that could only come from someone who worked in high-profile circles.

“You said Y/N L/N might be leaving her husband?” the woman said, her tone a bit too interested for comfort. “Well, if you want the real story, I can tell you.”

Yu chuckled lightly, not missing a beat. “Go ahead, Ayumi. You’ve got the inside track on this stuff.”

Ayumi’s smile was as smooth as polished stone.

“Well, I work with divorce lawyers,” she began, eyes twinkling with something far too knowing. “And I can’t exactly tell you anything concrete, of course. Client confidentiality and all that. But I will say this—when you work in the high-end legal world, you hear things. You know who’s looking for a lawyer. You know who’s getting advice on how to move forward with a separation.”

Nanami’s heart dropped. He didn’t want to hear it—he really didn’t want to hear it—but the words came tumbling out anyway. Ayumi, her voice slow and deliberate, continued.

“Y/N L/N has been meeting with lawyers. Multiple times. Not just any divorce lawyer, mind you—high-end ones. The best. It’s been going on for weeks now. And as much as she tries to keep it under wraps, the word gets out.”

Yu was practically leaning forward now, his eyes alight with the thrill of the gossip.

“Sounds like something’s brewing. It’s a mess, isn’t it? If she really is planning to split—”

Ayumi cut him off with a small chuckle. “It’s not really a mess, Yu. It’s a process. But let me tell you this—it’s not just about the marriage. No, no. She’s done with him. The rumors about his… insecurity about her success? That’s all true. The guy has his pride, but it’s not enough to keep a woman like her.”

Nanami’s blood ran cold. His grip tightened on his glass. He knew it was wrong to feel a sense of satisfaction at hearing that, but part of him couldn’t help it. A small, dangerous part of him that wished for this—wished for it to be true.

Ayumi continued, oblivious to the storm of emotions building inside him. “She’s had enough. She’s probably going to pull the trigger soon. Everyone in those circles knows it’s just a matter of time. He couldn’t keep up with her. Hell, he couldn’t even be happy for her when she was making millions. You’d think a man would be proud of his wife, right?” She clicked her tongue in mock disbelief. “But no. She’s ready to move on.”

Move on.

The words hit Nanami like a blow to the chest. His heart raced, thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm.

She’s leaving him.

It was absurd. He wasn’t happy about it, not really. He didn’t want to see her hurt, didn’t want her to feel like she was shackled to someone who couldn’t match her. But at the same time—God—the thought that she was getting out, breaking free of whatever miserable shell she was stuck in, made his pulse quicken.

She’s leaving him for someone else?

Nanami blinked, trying to hold onto the thread of his thoughts. But the words that had been spoken continued to replay in his mind, over and over again.

She’s leaving him.

Ayumi leaned back, satisfied with her contribution to the conversation, and Nanami felt himself slipping. His thoughts were too loud, too jumbled, and yet... he couldn’t ignore it.

Yu’s voice cut through the haze again. “Well, whatever happens, I’ll be watching. You never know who might end up being in the picture when all this plays out, huh?”

Nanami’s eyes darted to Yu, and for a moment, his own thoughts seemed to clear. He gave a small, controlled smile.

“I suppose we’ll see,” Nanami replied, his voice calm, but his mind was already miles away, envisioning what might come next. What could come next. He wasn’t sure what the future held, but the idea of her—finally free, and maybe finally looking at him—was almost too much to bear.

He could only hope that when the time came, he’d be ready.

*-*

The shift in her was unmistakable.

Nanami noticed it almost immediately, though he doubted anyone else could have pieced it together so quickly. You had always been a force of nature—sharp, composed, commanding—but now? Now she was something entirely different.

In the courtroom, she was relentless. Every word was honed to perfection, her arguments devastatingly precise. Opposing counsel couldn’t keep up, fumbling under the weight of her pointed remarks and icy glares. Witnesses stumbled, judges leaned in with rapt attention, and even juries seemed to shrink under her gaze.

She was terrifying.

She was magnificent.

And Nanami, against every instinct of self-preservation he had ever cultivated, thought it was the most breathtaking thing he’d ever seen.

*-*

In the weeks since Yu had told him about the rumors, Nanami had been hyperaware of her every move. He told himself it was out of professional interest, an admiration for her unparalleled skill. But deep down, he knew better.

She’s angry.

It was evident in the way she tore into her opponents, in the way her voice cut through courtroom debates like a blade. Whatever turmoil she was experiencing—whatever bitterness her life outside of work had brewed—she was channeling it into her cases.

And God help anyone standing in her way.

Nanami watched her from a distance, always careful not to stare too long, not to let anyone else catch on to the way his eyes lingered. But inside, he was a storm of contradictions. He wanted to comfort her, to tell her she didn’t have to bear the weight of her anger alone.

And yet…

She doesn’t need me.

That truth hit him like a punch to the chest every time he saw her. She didn’t need anyone. She was untouchable, unshakeable, a pillar of strength that made his own admiration feel insignificant in comparison.

But admiration was a poor mask for what he really felt.

It’s love, he admitted to himself in quieter moments. You love her. You’ve loved her since the first time you saw her.

And it was true. He couldn’t deny it anymore, not when every glance, every word, every thought of her sent his heart racing and his carefully curated composure crumbling at the edges.

The next gala came almost a month after Yu’s revelation, and Nanami had no intention of dwelling on it. It was another event he couldn’t avoid, another night of polite smiles and shallow conversations. He stood with Yu again, exchanging pleasantries with other attendees, his thoughts drifting as they often did.

Then he saw her.

She was across the room, a vision in sleek black, her hair swept back elegantly, her posture regal. The crowd around her seemed to blur as his focus narrowed, the ambient noise fading into a dull hum.

Her presence was magnetic, as always, but there was something different about her tonight. Something he couldn’t quite place until—

Oh.

His eyes fell to her left hand, where her wedding ring had always sat—a symbol of the one choice he could never bring himself to question aloud.

Except now, it wasn’t there.

No ring.

No. Fucking. Ring.

Nanami’s mind went blank, a thousand emotions rushing in to fill the void. Relief, joy, disbelief, hope. His heart was a thunderstorm, a wild cacophony that drowned out everything else.

She left him.

He wanted to laugh, to scream, to do something ridiculous and celebratory. His mind painted wild images—him dancing on the tables, popping champagne, tossing confetti in the air like a lunatic.

But instead, he did what he always did. He stayed still, composed, unreadable.

Externally, at least.

She turned slightly, her gaze sweeping the room until it landed on him. Her lips curved into a small, almost imperceptible smile, and she raised her glass in greeting.

Nanami’s breath caught, his pulse thundering in his ears. The gesture was so simple, so innocuous, but the weight of it hit him like a freight train.

She noticed me.

He raised his own glass in return, the movement steady, deliberate. He couldn’t let her see the chaos inside him—the way his chest felt too tight, the way his stomach churned with nerves and something dangerously close to joy.

Her smile lingered for a moment longer before she turned back to her conversation, leaving him rooted in place, the glass still in his hand.

Internally, he was spiraling.

She left him. She’s free. She’s free, and she’s here, and she smiled at you.

He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to ground himself, to keep from spiraling any further. He wasn’t a fool—he knew this didn’t mean anything. It didn’t mean she was interested in him, didn’t mean she saw him as anything more than a colleague, a peer.

But it meant something.

She was free from that man, that sad excuse for a husband who had never deserved her in the first place. Nanami’s mind conjured an image of the guy—pathetic, insecure, looking like some poor sea creature dragged up from the Mariana Trench and gasping for air.

Good riddance.

Nanami exhaled slowly, setting his glass down on a nearby table. He needed to get a grip, to calm the storm of emotions threatening to undo him.

But as much as he tried to push it down, the truth remained:

He loved her. He loved her, and now she was free.

And though he would never presume to think he had a chance—never cross the line of his own respect for her independence—a small, dangerous part of him dared to hope.

For now, though, he would let her enjoy her freedom, let her stand tall in the room without the weight of a man who couldn’t keep up.

And he would wait. As long as it took, he would wait.

*-*

Your apartment is the kind of place you never thought you’d have.

It’s sleek and modern, perched high enough to keep the chaos of the city below you at bay but not so high that it feels disconnected. The kitchen gleams with marble countertops you picked out yourself, the living room glows with the soft, ambient lighting you’ve always wanted, and the whole place smells faintly of lavender and the kind of peace you’ve been craving for years.

It’s yours.

Fully, completely, undeniably yours.

The cats seem to agree. Snowball, your eldest and the clingier of the two, is perched on the counter, watching you with the intense focus of a creature who believes the world revolves around them. Shadow, your sleek black cat, is curled up in the corner of the room, pretending to sleep but flicking his tail whenever you get too far away.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming,” you mutter, scooping food into their bowls. Snowball immediately hops down, tail curling around your leg in what you’ve come to interpret as cat-speak for ‘finally, peasant.’

You sigh as they dig in, their tiny crunches the only sound in your apartment. The silence is nice. Comforting, even. You love your quiet nights now—no passive-aggressive sighs from across the room, no snide comments about how you spend your time, no one sulking over the success that should’ve been a shared triumph.

Still, the peace doesn’t come without a price.

Your mind drifts as you chop vegetables for dinner. The knife moves rhythmically, slicing through crisp bell peppers and juicy tomatoes as the soft hum of your thoughts turns sharper, angrier.

He’s dragging this out on purpose.

You know it’s true.

Every demand, every unnecessary delay, every petty little stunt—it’s all designed to make your life just a little bit harder. To remind you that even now, even after you’ve chosen to walk away, he still has the power to inconvenience you.

What a waste of time.

It’s not like you didn’t see it coming. He’s always been the type to dig his heels in when things didn’t go his way. But somehow, the sheer pettiness of it still manages to catch you off guard.

You toss the vegetables into a hot pan, the sizzle snapping you back to reality. The smell of garlic and olive oil fills the kitchen, warm and familiar, and for a fleeting moment, your mind shifts—unbidden—to Nanami.

It’s stupid. You don’t even know why he comes to mind. Maybe it’s the way he always seems so calm, so steady, like nothing in the world could shake him. Or maybe it’s the way he watches you—quietly, respectfully, like you’re something to be admired and not just tolerated.

The thought makes your stomach twist, not unpleasantly, but you shake it off. You’re not here to daydream about a man who’s nothing more than a passing presence in your life. You’re here to make dinner, feed your cats, and maybe watch an episode of whatever trashy drama Netflix is pushing on you this week.

Besides, you think bitterly, stirring the vegetables with a little more force than necessary, you’ve already made enough bad decisions when it comes to men.

Your ex. Your fucking ex.

The thought of him sours your mood instantly. You were twenty when you got married—twenty and stupid, brimming with the kind of youthful optimism that made you believe love could fix anything.

He was your high school sweetheart, the first boy you ever loved, and that had seemed like enough at the time. Never mind that you were halfway through law school and already growing into a version of yourself he didn’t seem to like. Never mind that every argument ended with you apologizing, even when he was clearly in the wrong. Never mind that, deep down, you’d always known he didn’t really get you.

You wanted it to work. You wanted it so badly.

But wanting something doesn’t make it real.

The vegetables are done, the pasta boiling gently on the stove. You pour yourself a glass of wine, taking a long sip as your thoughts continue to spiral.

Why the hell did I stay so long?

It’s a question you’ve asked yourself a thousand times, and the answer never satisfies you. Maybe it was guilt—after all, he hadn’t cheated or hit you or done anything that screamed ‘leave me now.’ Maybe it was fear—fear of what people would think, of what it would mean to be alone after so many years of being part of a pair.

Or maybe you were just stubborn.

You snort softly, swirling the wine in your glass. You can’t sue him for leeching off you, you remind yourself, though the thought is tempting. The man hadn’t worked a full-time job in years, content to play the role of supportive husband while you carried the financial weight of both of you.

You wanted to believe it wasn’t out of malice. That maybe he felt emasculated by your success, that maybe he didn’t know how to handle being outshone by the woman he married.

But then you remember the way he used to talk to you—the cutting remarks, the little digs at your ambition, the way he made you feel like you were too much for wanting what you deserved.

Fuck him.

The cats have finished eating, now lounging lazily on the couch as you plate your dinner. It’s nothing fancy—just pasta and vegetables with a sprinkle of parmesan—but it feels good to cook for yourself. To take care of yourself, on your own terms, in your own space.

You sit down at the table, the soft glow of the city lights filtering through your windows. It’s quiet again, the kind of quiet that feels like freedom.

And as you take your first bite, you can’t help but think:

Maybe this isn’t so bad after all.

*-*

Nanami sat at his desk, the soft glow of the desk lamp casting a warm light over the scattered papers, but he wasn’t looking at them. He hadn’t been looking at them for hours. His mind was somewhere else, somewhere much more dangerous, and his thoughts—his relentless, overwhelming thoughts—had begun to blur the lines between fantasy and reality.

The worst part? He knew it. He knew it in the very marrow of his bones.

I’m insane, he thought for the thousandth time, rubbing his temples in an effort to ward off the growing headache. I’m obsessed with her.

It wasn’t just the way she moved or spoke or carried herself. It wasn’t just her beauty, which had always been undeniable—radiant, sharp, intelligent. God, she was breathtaking, but it was more than that. So much more.

It was everything.

How could I be this obsessed with a woman I’ve known for years?

His fingers drummed impatiently against the edge of his desk, his body restless. Every moment with her, whether it was a casual exchange of pleasantries in the hallway or a fierce legal battle in the courtroom, left a mark on him. Why does she do this to me? His mind refused to quiet, constantly racing, dredging up scenarios, dreams, things he would never say aloud.

It was so much worse than attraction.

It was infatuation.

I want her. I want everything.

The thought hit him like a jolt of electricity, and his pulse surged. He gripped the edge of his desk, leaning forward, his chest tightening as his mind filled with images—vivid, impossible, but undeniable.

Her. Her in my life. In my home. In my space.

He could see it so clearly, so vividly.

She was there, standing in his kitchen, her back to him as she expertly chopped vegetables, her gaze sharp and focused, yet there was something soft about her in this moment—something domestic, something intimate. He would watch her from the doorway, waiting for her to notice him, for her to smile in that way she had. The way she did when no one was around to see.

She would look at me and I’d know.

He’d step into the kitchen, his hand brushing against hers as she reached for a pan, the smallest touch that would send an undeniable jolt through him. And she would let it happen. She would let him in. She’d let him take her hand, maybe even kiss her palm as they stood in that kitchen, surrounded by warmth, by domesticity.

What’s wrong with me?

He closed his eyes, trying to shake off the images that wouldn’t leave him, the fantasies that were growing increasingly real in his mind.

He wanted to see her work. Not in the abstract way that they worked together occasionally—no, he wanted to see it. He wanted to be a part of it, to watch her in her element, her intelligence shining through in every decision, every word, every strategy. He wanted to be the one who stood by her side in those moments, the one she turned to when the weight of a case grew too heavy.

He wanted to be her partner.

Not just in the professional sense—no, it went far beyond that.

I want her in every sense of the word, he thought. His breath quickened, his chest tightening further. I want to wake up with her beside me. I want to see her face first thing in the morning, when her hair is still messy, and the world hasn’t had the chance to ruin her yet. I want to make her coffee, cook for her, laugh with her, love her.

And, God, yes, he wanted her physically too. But not just for the raw, frantic desire that twisted his gut every time their eyes met. He needed more. He needed to feel her skin against his, to hear her laugh in the dark, to feel her at peace—something he never saw in her, but something he was determined to help her find.

But it was so much more than that. So much more than lust.

This isn’t just sex, he thought with a kind of despair. I’m not like this. I’m… I’m a professional. I’ve been doing this for years. But every time I see her, I forget myself. I lose myself. I don’t want to just fuck her—I want to build a life with her.

The thought was terrifying. It shook him to his core. He had never, not once, allowed himself to feel something so irrational, so out of control. But she made him feel—in ways that were dangerous.

He wanted to be the one who kept her grounded, the one who saw the pieces of her no one else saw. The quiet, hidden parts of her that were too hard, too sharp for anyone else to understand.

But she’s not mine.

The harsh reality slapped him in the face again.

She wasn’t his.

Not now, not ever.

She had her own life, her own path to walk, and as much as it crushed him, he respected that.

But damn it, it didn’t make it any easier.

He leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly, his body feeling like it was about to crack under the pressure of his own thoughts.

I’m a professional. I need to focus. I’m losing my mind.

But even as he told himself this, as he tried to push the gnawing ache in his chest aside, he knew. He knew that none of this was going to go away. The yearning. The need. The obsession.

It was growing, expanding, until it swallowed everything else.

He couldn’t stop it. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to.

And if it meant he was slowly losing his mind, then maybe, just maybe, it was a price he was willing to pay.

God help me.

A/N: ehehehheheheheeh nanamiiii, also, i have a draft for aizawa!! i'm so happy i've started writing for him, i hope this is okay btw, im unsure if i like this story.

Masterlist.

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