#Jujutsu kaisen Nanami

[kamitv]

Tutor!Nanami who steadily became more of a private fuck for you instead of a tutor and utters things like, “If only you followed directions as well as you take my cock.” while he's fucking you over the very desk you're supposed to be studying on.

Tutor!Nanami who's been sick of how awful you are at following his overly simple directions whenever he tries to go over course materials with you so, he figured he'd have to fuck these lessons into that pretty head of yours.

Tutor!Nanami who wasn't even the one to suggest this kinda thing. He just went along with the way your eyes focused more on the tight blue-collar shirt and khaki-colored slacks he wore on a day to day basis instead of the notes he was reading to you. You made it so painfully obvious that you only agreed to these tutoring sessions so that you'd have an excuse to ogle him.

Tutor!Nanami who, after fucking you that first time, decided to use the sex as more of a reward for every time you studied properly with him. If you could last an entire session without your eyes lingering elsewhere, he'd reward you by laying you out against the desk and eating you out like a man starved.

Tutor!Nanami who groans into your sopping cunt about how, "This is what happens when you focus on your work instead of," pausing, simply to reel back and shoot at messy wad of spit right in between your slippery folds, "Thinkin' about filth all day."

Tutor!Nanami who kisses just about every inch of skin his lips can reach as he fingers you 'til your legs are shaking around his hand and your fingers are curling around his wrist, pushing at him to give you a break.

Your back is arching up off the desk and moan after moan of his name is slipping off of your tongue whilst you writhe beneath the skillful curl and twist of his thick fingers inside you.

Tutor!Nanami who praises you like it second nature to do so, all against your ear with his warm breath tickling your sensitive skin and his slightly fogged glasses brushing up against you as he tips his head every which way just to get different looks at you.

Tutor!Nanami who promises to fuck you how you really wanna be fucked as long as you ace your next test. And when you come to him a few days later with that gorgeous A printed atop your paper, he's left to completely and truly live up to his own promises to you.

Tutor!Nanami who's mouth is filthier than you could've ever imagined once he's got you at his place. Fast forward past all the sloppy make-outs that led you to where you are now and here you are standing before him with soaked panties and heavy lungs as he unbuckles that thick belt of his.

Clank after clank and you're nibbling on your lower lip in pure anticipation, awaiting the moment he tugs that belt through its annoying loops and tosses it to the side.

But of course, Tutor!Nanami still has you anxious at every given moment because suddenly he's tipping his head to the side and nodding his chin toward your legs, “Bend over n’ show her to me."

You've never moved faster in your life--tugging off what little clothing you have on, discarding it to the floor and doing exactly as he's instructed you to by bending over his bed and leaving your cunt on full display for the man.

Tutor!Nanami smirks and runs his smooth textured fingers over the curve of your ass first before settling his greedy palms on your hips and leaning over just to whisper to you. "I wanna see if this pussy’s worth taking my cock exactly the way she wants it,” He tells you with a mean emphasis of his straining bulge against your exposed cunt.

You're unintentionally drooling all over him, and no, not by your mouth at all.

It only takes a bit of messy grinds back against him before Tutor!Nanami gets the idea that you're growing impatient. He was trying to drag this whole thing out with you, truly. But how can he possibly do that when you're turning your head back and begging him to fuck you??

Yeah, this is Tutor!Nanami who gives you exactly what you want and feeds your eager cunt with his fat cock after only a short while of listening to you beg for him.

Tutor!Nanami who fucks you better than anyone else ever has, making your eyes roll to the back of your skull, and your fingers curl into the expensive sheets below.

Tutor!Nanami who's naturally the best at aftercare, and returns to his usual composed and stoic state not too long after fucking you to tears. Treats you the way he did when you first started studying with him and even asks you if you're gonna ace all your tests after this...

Of course, he only asked that because he want you to do well academically. Not because he wants to do this again.

[tojis-girl]

husband!kento who goes to the local pub on the weekends, right after work, with his friends. he sips drinks after drinks, getting so drunk he can barely function.

husband!kento who makes sure to get back home at exactly 11:00 every time he goes out but one time he didnt.

husband!kento who got lost when trying to find a taxi to take him home, ending up wandering down some street absolutely pissed.

husband!kento who rings you after a few minutes of mindlessly walking, you pick up in a worried tone.

husband!kento who tells you that he just wants to go home to his wife but he doesnt know where shes went! he also tells you help him find her! silly guy!

husband!kento who then finally gets picked up by you, while you ramble at him saying hes a mess - hes staring at you lovingly. mumbling and sighing about how much he loves you.

husband!kento who passes out soon after but will 100% dream about you!

"love you so mush, my girll - always.."

[fwanxi]

next door neighbor kento who recently just moved in the apartment complex.

next door neighbor kento who looks so arrogant but gives you the sweetest little smile whenever he meets you in the hallway.

next door neighbor kento who sometimes comes knocking at your door, asking for some sugar.

next door neighbor kento who is very reliable, he’d always be there to help you whenever you struggle on some housework.

next door neighbor kento who checks up on you first whenever there’s a blackout.

next door neighbor kento who loves it when you invite him over for dinner, your warm home cooked meals are his source of energy.

next door neighbor kento who helps you bake pastries. oh, you’re craving for something sweet? just knock on his door and minutes later, you’re happily munching on some sweets.

next door neighbor kento who gives you a key to his apartment. it’s only fair—after all, you also gave your key to him, right?

next door neighbor kento who is good at baking yet always managing to make a mess in the kitchen, to be frank—he cannot cook.

next door neighbor kento who is always eating takeouts, not just because he can’t cook. he doesn’t really have the time.

next door neighbor kento who looks so tired because of work—baggy eyes, and his usual warm face is slowly going away.

next door neighbor kento who you invited for some meals whenever he’d come home. one time, he was surprised to see a neat bento on his kitchen counter with a note saying that it was from you.

next door neighbor kento who happily eats what you’ve prepared for him.

next door neighbor kento who knocks at your door while holding freshly baked pastries—his way of saying thank you.

next door neighbor kento who asks you out on a date—completely nervous, but when you agreed—his grin was almost to his ears.

next door neighbor kento who takes you out on several dates, hoping that one day—you two would get tied together.

next door neighbor kento who is just in love with you. after you two made it official, he never went home to his apartment—it was cold and empty, his presence clearly not there.

next door neighbor kento who finally lives with you. he gets to experience what being loved is everyday, and it’s all because of you—his beloved.

[gojosprettyprincess]

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ UNCLE KENTO.

Tw - a bit dubcon, vibrator usage, age gap. Idk what this is. Not proofread

Dad’s best friend Kento pressing the pink vibrator that he found hidden inside your drawer flushed against your swollen clit while you’re sitting on his stiff cock. He’s buried all the way inside of your cramped cunt— filling up every existing space to the brim.

You can feel his plump, mushroom-shaped tip expertly pressing and rubbing against your sensitive g-spot as he places gentle kisses on your temple, urging you to stay quiet or else your parents will hear from the other room.

“Nanami… it feels weird—“ you whimpered softly, You stared down at the buzzing wand that’s assaulting your poor clit— the vibrating sensation making your legs tingled because of how overwhelming it felt along with his cock molding your insides at the same time. It was nothing that you’ve felt before.

It was quite embarrassing to have your dad’s best friend seeing you all exposed like this, considering how close and familiar Kento has always been with you and your parents. He’s practically like family so It made you rather, shy.

You slightly squirmed on his big lap, feeling his hard muscles tense in response, causing him to let out a low guttural groan before he quickly cleared his throat because of the sudden movement of your velvet walls contracting around his sensitive cock.

“Nanami? I’m sure your father raised you better than to call your elders by their name like that” he uttered sternly, almost sounding disappointed as he increased the vibrator’s intensity. “It’s Uncle to you, Darlin’.. Uncle Kento”.

Your head unwittingly collided with his firm chest, jolting you with the overwhelming scent of his minty, expensive cologne that clouded your senses. “S-sorry uncle!” You stammered as you sheepishly apologized to your uncle, prompting a fond chuckle from him because of how adoringly cute you are. So respectful and sweet.

He never intended to disrespect your father in this manner, having his needy cock cockwarmed by his daughter's tight, warm pussy and completely stretching and ruining it for any other man but what he’s doing isn’t entirely wrong… at least he’s someone your dad trusted and knows, that’s poking deep inside your cunny and not some young, stupid dude that would take advantage of a sweet girl like you.

He always thought you were a pretty little thing, always so nice and respectful— offering him his favorite green tea and the delicious cookies you baked every time he visited your home. Your thoughtfulness towards him never went unnoticed; You’re so precious to him so it’s only safe if your first time is with someone as mature and experienced as him. Someone who will be gentle and handle you like a fragile rose petal.

He never intended to accidentally stumble across the vibrator while he was searching for your charger in your drawer. You were in the shower, and he was staying over at your place for the night, so he required a charger and your dad told him that he could burrow yours. But he just couldn't ignore the pink wand poking from between your clothes. It caught his eye.

To his horror, you weren’t as innocent and pure as he once thought you were but that’s okay because it’s all for him. Uncle Kento will take good care of you.

He’s planning on teaching you about a lot of things, first starting with how to properly use the vibrator and taking his fat cock, both at the same time.

[purpleskiesupwardsxx]

HELLO

Sir

Where the fuck is your shirt

beer? 🥃

ac: nthndn_

[aesthetically-dying101]

Overworked

A/N: just a simple dumb idea i had based on a convo i had with some friends.

Warnings: slight? somno? (not really? she wakes up immediately, they've discussed this before, this is all consentual), smut, tired nanami, established relationship, unprotected sex , goes from 'she' to 'you'

Nanami’s shoulders sagged as he quietly unlocked the door, exhaustion weighing heavy on him. The day had been relentless—curse after curse, all gnawing at his already frayed patience. All he wanted now was the solace of his home, the warm embrace of his wife, and a moment of peace to forget the chaos of the outside world.

The soft glow of the living room lamp greeted him, and his gaze immediately landed on her. She was curled up on the couch, fast asleep, her chest rising and falling gently. His heart clenched with guilt when he noticed the dinner she’d prepared, neatly wrapped and set aside, clearly waiting for him to return.

He knelt down beside her, brushing a few stray strands of hair from her face.

I made her wait again.

A pang of guilt twisted in his chest, mingling with gratitude for her unwavering patience and love.

Carefully, he slid an arm beneath her knees and another around her back, lifting her with practiced ease. She stirred slightly, murmuring his name, but didn’t wake.

“I’m sorry, love,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You should’ve gone to bed.”

He carried her to their bedroom, the soft rustle of her robe catching his attention as it shifted against her skin. As he went to lay her down, the robe fell open just enough to reveal what lay beneath—and he almost dropped her.

His breath hitched.

There, under the soft folds of the robe, she wore a custom lingerie set—delicate, intricate, and unmistakably patterned with the very design of his blunt sword’s cloth wrapping.

The familiar splattered black spots stretched over sheer fabric that clung to her curves in a way that made his mouth go dry. A matching choker adorned her neck, completing the ensemble.

What… the… hell?

Nanami froze, his body betraying him as heat surged through his veins, pooling low in his abdomen-he almost came in his pants right then and there. His mind raced, trying to process the sight before him. Had she… done this for him? The thought alone had him clenching his jaw, a wave of desire crashing over him so intense it made him feel lightheaded.

Carefully, he set her down on the bed, his hands lingering on her for just a moment longer than necessary. She stirred again, her robe falling completely open now, and Nanami had to look away, squeezing his eyes shut as if it would erase the image burned into his mind.

He sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand down his face. There was no way in hell he could sleep—not with the raging boner threatening to tear through his slacks. He’d never felt so torn between respecting her rest and giving in to the urge to wake her up and bury himself in her warmth.

Then he remembered the conversation they’d had a few weeks ago, late at night, when she’d shyly admitted she’d always been curious about sleepy sex. He’d been surprised at the time but promised to consider it if the moment ever felt right.

Well… when in Rome, he thought, loosening his tie and shedding his jacket.

Leaning over her, Nanami kissed her shoulder, letting his lips trail down to the hollow of her neck. She sighed softly in her sleep, her body shifting instinctively toward him. He smirked, his hands gliding over the sheer fabric of the lingerie, marveling at the thought and effort she’d put into it.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and husky.

As he slipped his hand beneath the waistband of her panties, his lips brushed against her ear. “You’re going to feel so good when you wake up,” he whispered, his restraint finally snapping as he let himself indulge in the gift she’d left for him.

A warm, muted pleasure rippled through you, pulling you from the depths of sleep.

It wasn’t the jarring, all-consuming intensity you were used to feeling when Nanami took you apart—it was softer, gentler, like being wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and bliss.

For a moment, you lay there, caught between sleep and wakefulness, your hazy mind trying to piece together why you felt so… good.

Your fingers twitched, and you blinked slowly, your gaze finding the soft glow of the bedside lamp. It took you a moment to register the weight of your husband’s hands on your thighs, spreading you gently apart. Another blink, and your breath hitched when you realized what was happening.

Nanami’s head was nestled between your legs, his mouth working skillfully, reverently, as though he were savoring the taste of you. He wasn’t his usual self—not rough or demanding. Instead, his movements were slow and deliberate, each flick of his tongue and gentle suckle designed to lull you into submission. The sensation wasn’t overwhelming; it was tender and soothing, like a balm to your soul.

“Ken?” you murmured, your voice thick with sleep. You propped yourself up slightly on your elbows, blinking down at him in dazed confusion.

He glanced up, his honey-brown eyes meeting yours, dark with hunger but soft with affection. He didn’t stop, his lips curling into the faintest of smiles as he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh before resuming his ministrations.

You sighed, your body relaxing back into the mattress.

“You… You’re home,” you mumbled, the words barely coherent as a shiver ran through you.

“I am,” he murmured against you, his voice a low rumble that sent vibrations through your core. “And you’re beautiful.”

Your cheeks flushed, warmth spreading through your chest at the loving tone in his voice- and a smidge of pride, after all, you had gone through all the lengths to get this set done, all for him. The lingering exhaustion in your body was no match for the steady pleasure he was coaxing from you, and you gave up trying to fight it.

Instead, you let herself sink into the moment, your fingers tangling in the sheets as your thighs trembled under his touch.

You let out a soft moan, your head lolling to the side. “This… this is different,” you murmured, your voice tinged with wonder.

Nanami hummed in response, his hands gripping your thighs with just enough pressure to ground you as he continued. “You deserve something special tonight,” he said softly, his voice laced with adoration. “Something gentle. Something just for you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you reached down, your hand brushing against his hair. “You… you didn’t have to—ah…” Your words dissolved into a gasp as he focused on a particularly sensitive spot, his tongue swirling with precision that only he seemed to have mastered.

“I wanted to,” he replied, his voice almost reverent.

The soft, rhythmic movements of his tongue combined with the warmth of his hands holding you steady sent you spiraling further into a haze of pleasure. You arched into his touch, your breaths coming in soft pants as the tension in your core built slowly, sweetly.

“Kento,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need and love. “I love you.”

He lifted his head briefly, his lips glistening as he smiled at you, his eyes crinkling in the way that always made your heart skip a beat. “And I love you,” he said, his voice steady and sincere. Then, with one last lingering look, he returned his attention to you, determined to draw every ounce of pleasure he could from you until you were utterly undone.

And oh fuck- how could he be so good? It felt so warm, so good- and those damn fingers, working so perfectly, reaching parts of you that you could never imagine touching yourself.

It kept getting warmer, and tighter and- fucking hell, your thighs trembled.

And as you surrendered to him completely, your body trembling in his hands, you couldn’t help but think that there was no place in the world you'd rather be.

Nanami sat back on his heels, taking a moment to admire ypu and that beautiful set. Your body was bathed in the soft light of the bedside lamp, your chest rising and falling with each uneven breath. Your hair was splayed out across the pillow, your cheeks flushed, and your lips parted in a soft, dazed expression. You looked utterly blissed out, your body pliant and trembling under his touch.

He pressed a tender kiss to the inside of your thigh before rising to his feet and shrugging off his shirt. His fingers deftly worked at his belt, and soon he was shedding the rest of his clothes, the weight of the day finally peeling away with them. His gaze never left you as he returned to the bed, settling between your legs.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he ran his hands up your sides. You responded with a soft hum, your eyes fluttering open just long enough to meet his before they fell shut again, your trust and love for him shining through even in your haze.

Nanami guided himself to your soaked pussy, pausing to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Let me take care of you, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice low and soothing. Slowly, he sank into you, his breath hitching at the way you clenched around him. You were so warm, so soft, so utterly perfect that it took every ounce of restraint he had not to lose himself right then and there.

Your lips parted in a quiet gasp, your hands reaching for him instinctively. “Kento…” you breathed, your voice filled with adoration and need.

He bottomed out, stilling for a moment to let you adjust. You were already trembling, your legs wrapping loosely around his waist as your arms reached up to pull him closer.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’ve got you.”

The first thrust was slow and deliberate, his hips rolling gently against yours. Your response was immediate—your back arched, your head tipping back as a soft, breathy moan escaped your lips. By the second thrust, you were already unraveling, your mind slipping into a haze of pure bliss.

“Kento… Kento… Kento…” you babbled, your voice barely more than a whisper as his name spilled from your lips like a mantra. “It’s… so good… oh, it’s so good…”

Nanami’s heart swelled at the sight of you—completely undone, your body and mind surrendering entirely to him. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss.

“Look at my pretty wife,” he murmured against your lips, his tone filled with awe. “So perfect for me.”

Your hands clung to his shoulders, your nails digging in slightly as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “I… I love you,” you choked out, your voice trembling with emotion. “I love you so much, Kento…”

He felt his chest tighten at your words, the depth of your love and trust in him overwhelming. “I love you too,” he replied again, his voice thick with sincerity as he kissed you again. “So much.”

Your tears spilled over, but you weren't sobbing. They were quiet tears, born of pure, unfiltered emotion. “It feels so good,” you whimpered, your voice barely coherent. “So warm… so safe…”

Nanami chuckled softly, his movements never faltering as he gazed down at you with a mixture of adoration and amusement. “You’re so cute,” he said, his lips quirking into a small smile. “My beautiful, perfect girl.”

His words only seemed to undo you further, and you let out a soft, broken moan, your body trembling beneath him. Your mind was a complete blur now, the overwhelming warmth and love you felt for him mixing with the pleasure in a way that left you utterly speechless.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice soft and reverent as he pressed kisses to your cheeks, your jaw, your lips. “So amazing. I’ll always take care of you.”

You clung to him, your body melting into his as he continued his slow, gentle pace. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of them, tangled together in a cocoon of love and warmth. And in that moment, nothing else mattered.

A/N: oof okay, so smut is defo not smth i write incredibly well, BUT i need practice so uuuh yeah!!

Masterlist

:)

[vantetaes]

PARENT TEACHER CONFRENCES🫧🥂

TEACHER!NANAMI X MILF BLACK FEM READER

SUMMARY!!! hardworking single mom yn is called to meet with nanami, her sons fourth grade teacher to discuss his performance.

WARNINGS!!! aggressive tones, cursing, penetration, oral (f receiving), mirror sex, affirmations, sensual, praises, 6.2k

the school hallways are eerily quiet, the usual chaos of children’s laughter, teachers and coaches directing the younger kids to class, and hurried squeaky footsteps replaced by the hum of fluorescent lights overhead. you stride through the marble floored corridor, the sharp click of your black heels slicing through the silence.

your grip tightens around the structured leather of your designer handbag as you reach the door labeled with big black lettering MR. KENTO NANAMI.

you knock twice, before using your entire body weight pushing the wooden door open without waiting for an invitation.

nanami looks up from his desk, his expression unreadable behind his gold square-framed glasses. he’s put together, wearing a clean tan suit. the matching jacket lay carelessly over the back of his chair while his white button up pressed shirt sleeves rolled up just enough to hint at forearm muscle, tie loosened just a fraction. the gold chain he wore underneath barely peeking through to catch the beams of sunlight coming through the large windows.

his whole aura screams methodical, disciplined, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes when he meets your gaze. something unreadable.

“ms. l/n, i’m surprised. thank you for making the time.” he greets, standing as a courtesy. his voice is deep, smooth, but there’s an undercurrent of exhaustion beneath the professionalism.

you set your bag down on one of the two brown leather chairs before seating yourself across from him, back straight, chin tilted slightly upward. nanami watched as your blazer tightened around your frame as you fixed your posture. your sheer stockings with lace cuffing your thigh give the man a tease, revealing with the way your mini pencil skirt rose up to crease at your hips. the simple gold jewelry necklace that hung around your neck, being fixed by freshly manicured french tips.

and the one thing he could never forget about you, you smelled like homegrown vanilla and looked like you were moisturized by gods.

“i always make time when it comes to my son, mr. kento. let’s get to the point.” your tone is crisp, practiced, the same one you use when working around the most elite of clients and workers the same. although it never mattered to nanami. outside of those aura you present, he knew you’d crumble.

“it’s about yuji. he’s a bright kid. engaging , compassionate. but i’ve noticed a pattern of distraction in class. his assignments are often rushed, and while he excels in physical activities, he struggles to focus during lessons. i’m concerned he’s not reaching his full potential.” he exhales slowly, measuring his words. his hazel eyes lock onto yours for a moment, trying to gather an expression.

“so what are you saying? that my son is a problem all of a sudden?” your brows knit together, irritation beginning to bubble beneath your skin.

“not at all, in fact i love having him in my class. i’m saying he needs more structure. more consistency.” nanami doesn’t flinch, his gaze steady. he goes to grab a manila folder, with your sons name right on the front.

“you think i don’t provide that? do you know how hard i work to make sure yuji has everything he needs?” you fold your arms, nails tapping against your sleeve, leg beginning to jump. the small sound of your heel connecting with the flooring filling the uncomfortable space.

there’s a flicker of something in his expression—understanding, maybe, but not pity.

“i’m not questioning your dedication as a parent, ms. l/n. i see how much yuji adores you. but children, especially ones as energetic as him, need more than just material stability. they need presence.”

your jaw tightens. presence. as if you haven’t sacrificed enough. as if you haven’t built an empire just so yuji never has to want for anything.

“i’m present-” you say, voice quieter now, but still firm. “i show up. the amount of money i spend on this crappy little private elementary school, i should be the one signing checks.”

nanami slightly adjusts his glasses, tapping his finger along the opening of the folder. instead, his body shifts backwards in his chair, placing the cream folder in front of you. clasping his hands together, a small, tight line smile crosses his face.

“the amount of money you donate to helping your child’s future doesn’t impress me. do with that what you will. i didn’t mean for you to feel as though i was attacking you, ms. l/n. just bringing light to the situation.”

sitting forward in your seat, you lean over. your nails drum against the polished wood of his desk, slow, deliberate. his eyes can’t help but to draw down to your exposed cleavage. watching your necklace sway with your movements.

“you assume a lot, mr. kento.” your voice is steady, but there’s an edge to it now, a sharpness honed from years of speaking over men who thought they could talk over you.

“you see a distracted child and immediately think it’s a lack of structure. you see a working mother and assume it’s a lack of presence. tell me, do you make the same assumptions about fathers?”

“i don’t assume, ms. l/n. i observe. and what i’ve observed is a boy who looks over his shoulder every time he accomplishes something. searching for approval that isn’t always there.” nanami doesn’t blink, doesn’t waver. instead, he leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on the desk, his expression unwaveringly calm. you could smell the mint wafting off his breath.

“that’s not fair.” heat flares in your chest, something dangerously close to guilt threading through the frustration.

“it’s not about fair.” he says evenly.

“it’s about what’s real. yuji is brilliant, but he’s restless. he’s eager, but inconsistent. i don’t doubt for a second that you love him. but love and attention aren’t the same thing. help him or you’ll run him right into the ground.”

your lips part, ready to retort, but the words catch. because a part of you knows he isn’t wrong. knows that between early-morning meetings and late-night conference calls, between international flights and back-to-back negotiations, there are missed dinners, forgotten bedtime stories, moments you can’t get back. you work so he doesn’t have to struggle. but in doing so, maybe, just maybe, you’ve made him fight for a different kind of survival.

but admitting that feels too much like surrender.

“you’re out of line. i don’t think the dean would enjoy hear about how you spoke to their cash cow.” so you straighten, tilting your chin up just enough to remind him who you are.

“maybe-” nanami exhales slowly, pushing a hand through his blond hair. his voice remains maddeningly level.

“-but if i don’t say it, who will?”

silence stretches between you, thick with something unspoken. outside, the distant sound of a basketball bouncing against pavement echoes through the hallway.

“enough of this. i have to make it home for yuji. i appreciate your concern for my son but from now on, please mind your own business.”

collecting your purse and the folder, you stand up, straightening out your outfit. nanami stands also, watching as you flip your bouncy curls behind one ear, the skirt still high and teasing. nanami watches as your tiny frame shuffles over to the door, a smile sigh leaving his lips.

you grip the door handle, pausing just long enough to steady yourself. the conversation lingers, the weight of it pressing against your spine, taking in a deep breath.

infuriating.

“ms. l/n.” his voice stops you, low and deliberate.

“what now, nanami?” you inhale slowly before turning, arching a brow.

he watches you for a moment, arms crossed, expression unreadable. then, with the same frustrating composure he’s had all evening, “-i was too hostile.”

you blink, caught off guard. “excuse me?”

“i should have approached the conversation differently. more patience, less provocation.” he exhales, adjusting his tie, more out of habit than necessity. then, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, “let-let me make it up to you. dinner.”

there’s a pause. sharp, charged.

then you laugh, a short, disbelieving sound.

“is this your way of apologizing?”

“it’s my way of offering a reset.” his lips twitch slightly at the corner, just slightly.

“would your wife be okay with you taking out a parent?”

“no wife. just me and you.”

you study him, searching for any sign of insincerity. but nanami is firm. there’s no arrogance in his offer, no expectation, just a quiet confidence that irritates you almost as much as it intrigues you.

“interesting, well. bold of you to assume i have the time. yknow, with me being an absent mother an all.” you say smoothly, tilting your chin up.

“bold of you to assume i’m not willing to wait, just like today.” he counters with a laugh without missing a beat.

the air between you shifts, charged with something neither of you acknowledge outright.

“send me the details, mr. kento. i’ll think about it.” finally, you smirk, pushing the door open.

you don’t wait for his response as you walk out, heels clicking against the tile, but you don’t need to. because for the first time tonight, you let him have the last word.

-

nanami: dinner. friday. 8pm. send me your preference, or i’ll choose.

you: you assume i’m free.

nanami: i assume you’ll make time.

you: bold of you.

nanami: so i’ve been told.

you: fine. pick the place.

nanami: i already have. i’ll send the details.

you: don’t disappoint me.

nanami: i wouldn’t dare.

read 6:25pm

-

soft jazz hums through your bedroom, blending with the quiet rustle of fabric as you smooth your dress down in the mirror. the dark red silk pulling just right at every curve of your legs and waist. here, in the warm glow of the vanity lights, with yuji bouncing on his heels beside you, you allow yourself a moment of softness.

“mom, you look so cool!” he beams up at you, eyes bright, his excitement buzzing through the air like electricity.

“you really think so, baby?” you turn to him with a warm smile, cupping his cheek gently, watching as the boys eyes lit up like a christmas tree from the affection.

“yeah! like a superhero!” he nods enthusiastically.

“you’re too sweet.” you laugh, pressing a kiss to his forehead, immediately wiping off the faint outline of your lip combo.

behind you, mrs. okoye, yujis nanny, watches with a fond smile but says little, just straightening a few things around the room as if to give you this moment.

“but why are you dressed up? where are you going again?” yuji tugs at your hand, using his other to grab his stuffed bear.

“remember the meeting i had with mr. nanami?” you crouch to his level, smoothing a hand over his messy curly hair.

“when you got mad at him?” he scrunches his nose, pulling the stuffed animal closer.

“we had a discussion. and now, we’re having dinner.” you chuckle.

“so you like him now or are you guys just gonna talk about me, mommy?”

you smirk. “we’ll see.”

the doorbell rings. yuji gasps dramatically. “he’s here!”

before you can stop him, he dashes ahead, excitement bubbling over. he bolts around the corner, dropping his toy along the way. you shake your head fondly, grabbing your clutch and the brown bear and making your way to the door. when you open it, you blink, momentarily caught off guard.

nanami stands there, looking effortlessly composed. navy blue slacks, black button up sleeves pushed up just enough to hint at the veins decorating his forearm. the gold necklace fully visible unlike earlier. but what surprises you isn’t how good he looks. it’s the massive bouquet of red roses and baby’s breath in his hand. the red and white flowers somehow glistening in the moons light.

he stares at you in awe. the way the red dress compliments the rich brown of your skin. he admired how well you layered the gold and diamond jewelry, your warm house lighting catching the gleams perfectly. he loved the way the dress held you, how he could see the outline of your already hard nipples against the silk fabric.

“good evening, ms. l/n.” his voice is smooth, steady, but there’s something almost hesitant in the way he holds out the bouquet. “these are for you.”

“you bring flowers to all your parent-teacher meetings, mr. kento?” your eyes flicker from the flowers to him.

“only when i come on too strong.” his lips twitch, just barely, scratching the back of his neck.

before you can respond, yuji tugs at your dress. “mom! look, flowers!”

“i see that, baby.” you smile, accepting them with one hand while ruffling yuji’s hair with the other. then, turning back to nanami, you arch a brow.

“you’re trying very hard to be charming.”

“is it working?”

you tilt your head, considering, before turning toward the nanny.

“mrs. okoye, put these in water for me? and uh- make sure he’s in bed by 9 at the latest. he has a test monday, his brain needs the rest.”

“but mommy!”

“no buts, that’s how i ended up in this dress in the first place.”

mrs. okoye nods, taking them with a small, knowing smile. “of course, dear.”

“mom says you’re not gonna annoy her tonight.” yuji grins up at nanami.

nanami crouches down to hear the boy more, then glances at you, amused. “is that so?”

you smirk, stepping past the threshold. “we’ll see.”

-

the restaurant is warm and intimate. a few candles provide low lighting casting a golden glow over dark wood and crisp linens. it’s elegant, but not in the way that feels forced or ostentatious. it’s intentional, curated. something made to make you feel something.

nanami is composed, though somehow his tie discarded somewhere between the car ride and now. he looks, relaxed. or at least, as relaxed as a man like him allows himself to be.

“you chose well, i expected something more- predictable, if im being honest.” you say bluntly, running a finger along the rim of your wine glass, the red liquid swishing.

“ah, so you expected a steakhouse.” he lifts a brow, swirling the amber liquid in his own glass.

“no but i expected something safe.” you smirk.

he exhales, the closest thing to a chuckle slipping through his lips. “i don’t play safe.”

you study him for a moment, letting the words settle between you. nanami is measured, meticulous, but never passive.

“oh? you ordered for me?” the waiter arrives, setting down your plates with quiet efficiency. you glance down, amused.

“i made an educated guess.” nanami sets his napkin in his lap.

“i assume you don’t waste time on things like scanning menus when you already know what you want.”

“you assume a lot about me, nanami.” you lean back in your chair, regarding him with interest.

he meets your gaze without hesitation. “i’ve observed things about you since i’ve started teaching yuji.”

the corner of your lips lifts slightly.

“oh yeah? and what else have you observed?” you take another sip.

he cuts into his meal with precision, not breaking eye contact with you.

“that you’re sharp. decisive. used to being in control-” a pause. he places his glass between his lips, taking a quick sip. then, casually “-and that you rarely let yourself slow down ever.”

your grip tightens just slightly around your fork, tongue picking at the inside of your cheek.

“what else?”

“you’re stubborn. too scared to let anyone in. you think too much about what matters right now and not how it’ll affect your son or his growing up-“

“oh! so now you’re a therapist?”

“ha- ms. l/n, i’m not saying this to be rude. i’m just a teacher.” he takes another sip of his drink. “but one who pays attention.” he starts eating, eyes staying on your frame.

you exhale through your nose, shaking your head. “yuji talks too much.”

“he adores you.” nanami actually smiles at that, small, barely there, but real.

“he’s a good kid.” the warmth in your chest is immediate, but you mask it with a slow sip of wine.

“he is.” nanami leans forward slightly, forearms resting on the table. “-and he wants more of you.”

your jaw tenses, and he catches it, because of course he does.

“did you ask me out to berate me? you think i don’t know that?” your voice is steady, but there’s an edge to it now. you pinch the bridge of your nose, eyebrows furrowing.

“i think you know. i think you hate that you can’t fix it as easily as everything else in your life.” nanami doesn’t waver.

the honesty of it stings. not because it’s cruel, but because it’s true.

you inhale slowly, setting your glass down. “do you always talk like this over dinner?”

he tilts his head slightly. “would you prefer small talk?”

you hold his gaze, weighing the challenge in it.

then, slowly, a smirk curves your lips. “no.”

he nods once, as if he already knew.

the conversation shifts, flows. work, travel, books that neither of you have had time to finish.

the tension doesn’t leave, but it changes, settling into something less combative, more intimate.

at some point, the plates are cleared. at some point, your wine glasses are refilled for the fifth time. at some point, you realize you’re enjoying this.

and at some point, nanami sets his glass down, watching you with that same measured gaze, and says,

“would you let yourself slow down? just for a little while?”

the question hangs between you, heavier than the air, lighter than the wine.

and for the first time in a long time, you don’t have an immediate answer. in all your tipsy, deep talk with the man, you’d actually started to enjoy the way he was looking at you. how protective and smart he was. how much he cared about a child that wasn’t even his own.

-

the drive to nanami’s place is smooth, the city lights blurring past as the car hums through the quiet night.

nanami’s apartment is quiet, warm in a way that surprises you. large windows take up a vast majority of his walls. pure marble countertops, redwood flooring. ambient lighting coming from his carved baseboards.

“jesus, how much does teaching actually pay?” upon entering, the much taller man wastes no time bending down, hands tracing the outline of your body as he carefully removes your expensive heels, placing them to the side and grabbing a pair of slippers from the adjacent shoe rack. carefully sliding them on you, letting you adjust, he walks you over to the bar stools.

“i’ve been teaching a long time, ms. l/n-“

“shit, maybe i should quit my empire and start. and please. call me yn.”

a record hums low in the background, something slow and rich, filling the silence between you.

he moves with his usual precision, reaching into a fully see through cabinet. pouring two glasses of whiskey without asking, handing you one with a steady hand. his fingers brush yours, just for a second, and it’s enough to make something flicker beneath your skin. you take a sip letting the heat settle in your chest.

“let’s move to the couch.” he walks from behind the island, helping you off the high bar hair and leading you by the small of your back to his sleek black couch.

“such a gentleman, who would’ve thought.” you joke, leaning back against the couch.

“you expected something else?” nanami sits beside you, not too close, but close enough.

“i expected something colder.” you tilt your head slightly, studying him. his lips pressed to the glass yet his eyes are focused on the way your dress creased at your waist.

“i’m not as rigid as you think, im sorry about earlier.” his lips quirk, just barely. finally taking a drawn out sip, he places his glass down on one of the sleek black coasters.

“no?” your gaze lingers on him over the rim of your glass.

he exhales, slow, watching you the way he always does, like he’s considering his next words carefully.

“no.”

-

you’re curled into the couch now, one leg tucked beneath you, nanami sitting close beside you, his hand resting on your knee, thumb tracing slow, absentminded circles against your skin. the city lights below flicker and shine through the darker space. it felt really natural in a sense.

“so, yuji? are you still in contact with his father or-“

your eyes widen as you place the rim of the glass to your lips, drinking in as much of the liquid as you could. already feeling the affects of the wine from dinner and the two glasses of aged whiskey tenfold. your head drops, your bouncy hair covering the sides of your face.

“woah, im sorry if it’s early-“ shaking your hand, you finish off the drink. placing the glass back down.

“i mean, what really is there to say? he got me pregnant, decided he didn’t want to have a wife or a son. left. pretty simple.”

nanamis eyes crease at the side a little, watching as your expression began to falter.

“i won’t bring it up again, im sorry.”

“it’s not your fault. i knew you’d get curious eventually.”

the rest of the conversation flows easily, the whiskey loosening the edges just enough. you talk about work, about travel, and nanami listens intently, his attention never wavering. at some point, the distance between you shrinks, you can feel the warmth radiating off him.

“that’s in a week?” he asks, the coldness of his ring sliding across your now exposed thigh.

“a week? i wish! that’s a day to day schedule.”

“holy shit! i’d rather double the size of my classes.”

your glass is fully empty when he reaches out, his fingers brushing a stray curl from your cheek, tucking it behind your ear.

you pause, breath catching just slightly. “what are you doing, nanami?”

his touch lingers, his thumb ghosting along your jaw. “just checking on you.”

his voice is quiet, deep, pulling you in like a slow tide. you should say something sharp, something to deflect, but you don’t. instead, you hold his gaze, letting the moment stretch, letting the tension coil tighter between you. the pad of his thumb rubs across your face gently.

“you always this bold?” you murmur, tilting your chin up just slightly.

“not usually.”

you find yourself leaning forward, falling into the man’s smell. his blonde hair beginning to loose its shape from the day, falling in front of his face. jokingly, you remove one of the fallen strands, pushing it back up into the style before. he leans forward fully, finally connecting your lips.

it’s slow at first, testing, like he’s waiting for you to pull away. when you don’t, he deepens it, his hand slipping to the nape of your neck, fingers threading around your skin as he pulls you closer. he tastes like whiskey, warm and smooth, and something unmistakably him.

your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, gripping him as he presses against you, his other hand sliding to your waist, guiding you into him. the way he moves is controlled, deliberate, like he’s savoring every second. with your back pressed to the arm of the couch, you could feel the hunger radiating off the man.

when you break apart, you’re breathless, your pulse thrumming beneath your skin.

“tell me if this is too much.” he murmurs, his lips grazing your jaw.

you shake your head, a small smirk playing at your lips. “you think i don’t know what i’m doing?”

nanami exhales a quiet chuckle, his lips brushing yours again, softer this time, slower. “you’re a headache.”

“you like that, though.” you hum, trailing your fingers up his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips.

his grip on your waist tightens. “i do.”

then he kisses you again, deeper, hungrier, like he’s done pretending this isn’t exactly where the night was always meant to end.

his other hand finds your waist, pulling you fully against him, his grip firm, unyielding. he kisses like he does everything else. controlled, intentional, like he’s taking his time memorizing the way you taste, the way you move against him.

you sigh against his lips, your hands moving to his shirt, fingers slipping beneath the fabric to find the warmth of his skin. his breath hitches slightly at the cold touch, and the sound sends heat pooling low in your underwear.

“you always this damn patient?” you murmur impatiently against his lips, teasing.

nanami exhales a quiet chuckle, though there’s an edge to it now, something unraveling at the seams.

“not always.”

you smirk, your nails dragging lightly down his chest, feeling the way his muscles tense beneath your touch.

“then don’t be.”

his restraint cracks.

nanami moves without hesitation, his hands gripping your thighs as he pulls you into his lap, settling you against him. the shift has you gasping softly, and he takes advantage of it, his mouth trailing along your jaw, down the column of your throat, lips and teeth and tongue leaving a slow-burning path in their wake.

you tilt your head, giving him more access, helping him out by hiking the skirt of your dress up to your hips, showing off your matching red lace panties. your fingers threading into his hair, tugging slightly. he groans against your skin, low and deep, his hands sliding beneath the fabric of your dress, fingertips teasing against bare skin.

“yn-” he breathes, voice rough with restraint, forehead resting against your collarbone. “-tell me you want this.”

you guide his face back up, meeting his gaze, dark and heavy with desire. your fingers brush along his jaw before pulling him back in, your lips barely grazing his as you whisper.

“i do.”

whatever tension was left shatters.

nanami stands effortlessly, lifting you with him as he moves through the apartment, his mouth still on yours, his hands gripping you like he has no intention of letting go.

when he reaches the bedroom, he presses you against the doorframe for just a second, just long enough to look at you—really look at you.

“last chance.” he murmurs, though his hold on you says he already knows the answer.

you smile, slow and knowing, fingers tracing down the buttons of his shirt before slipping one free.

“shut the hell up and fuck me, nanami.”

nanami doesn’t hesitate. the second the words leave your lips, his mouth crashes into yours, all slow-burning control unraveling into something deeper, something more desperate. he carries you effortlessly across the threshold of his bedroom, his grip firm but careful, like he’s savoring the way you feel against him.

the room is dimly lit, the city lights outside casting a soft glow through the windows, but you barely register anything beyond the warmth of his body, the way he moves, the way he kisses you like he’s been waiting for this—like he’s been holding himself back for too long.

he sets you down gently on the edge of the bed, the fluffy black duvet puffy up as you sit. but before he can pull away, you tighten your grip on his shirt, keeping him close.

“uh- don’t act shy now.” you murmur against his lips, fingers making quick work of the remaining buttons.

nanami exhales sharply, his hands settling on your thighs, thumbs pressing slow, deliberate circles into your skin.

“trust me, shy is the last thing i am.” he says, voice low, rough with restraint,

you smile, trailing your hands down his chest, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath your fingertips. then, in one smooth motion, you push the shirt from his shoulders, letting it slide to the floor. disappear into the floor from the nights darkness.

your gaze sweeps over him, taking in the broad planes of muscle, tattoos littered across his skin. the faint lighting contouring his abs. your fingers trace over, your touch featherlight.

“you stare a lot.” he murmurs, amused.

you hum, tilting your head as you drag your nails lightly down his torso. “i like what i see.”

his breath stutters just slightly, and before you can tease him about it, he leans down, capturing your lips in another deep, lingering kiss. this one is different. slower, heavier, like he’s savoring every second, every sigh, every way your body reacts to him.

you let him, melting into the warmth of his touch, into the way his hands slide up your sides, tracing over fabric as if debating whether to remove it.

“nanami.” you murmur against his lips, impatient now.

he exhales a quiet chuckle, lips trailing along your jaw, down the column of your throat, pressing slow, deliberate kisses against your skin.

“hmm?”

“stop teasing.”

he pulls back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. then, his hands move. slow, steady, as he starts to undo the zipper of your dress.

“uh uh uh, say please.” he murmurs, lips curving just slightly.

you arch a brow, amused despite the heat pooling low in your core.

“you’re pushing your luck.”

nanami smirks, fingers trailing over newly exposed skin, making you shiver.

“and yet, you haven’t stopped me.” he muses, voice dipping lower. with ease, he slips the dress from around your waist, gently pushing your body back to lay down in the warmth of the comforter.

his lips trace soft kisses down your collarbone, nipping slowly at the skin. you gasp, head falling back into the mattress, enjoying the feeling of warmth coming from the man’s breath. he proceeds down, planting kisses down to your exposed chest, tongue faintly sliding over your swollen buds.

“oh! fuck nanami, i’m gonna hurt you.” propping your body up on your elbows, he pushes you right back.

“fine, since you wanna be so impatient.”

dipping down, he picks you up, tossing carefully you so that your head rest on his massive pillows. crawling up to you, his lips pepper kisses. down your sternum, under your breast, kissing slowly down your torso, planting one first one to your belly button.

“how pretty they are, hm? just for me?” his voice raspy and hiding hunger, you let out a small sigh, fingers grasping onto the man’s blonde locs.

his head dips between your thighs, mouth pressing against your clothed cunt. a slight hum comes from his chest, letting his head fall to one side as his eyes look up at you, drunkenly.

without further hesitation, he pulls your panties to the side, tongue immediately collecting your slick that pooled. this was the most intimate you’ve been in a man since yuji was conceived. and god did it feel good.

his hands hook around your legs, holding you open in a middle split while one hand held the lingerie to the side while the other rubbed slow, agonizing circles into the swollen nub. he uses his tongue to slowly pump in and out of your throbbing hole. in the darkness of the room, all you can see is stars and made up shapes floating around in the void. tears pooling at the corners of your eyes as you feel nanami begin to slowly suck at your clit, plump lips wrapped gently around while the tip of his tongue spells out his name. his middle and ring finger pushing and pulling out of you, the sounds of wetness filling the room.

your mouth open, head thrown back into the pillows, and fingers grasping onto the man’s head for dear life, he ate you like he was starving. like a wild beast. everytime he removed his lips from sucking, using his fingers to curl up inside you, fucking your gummy walls.

“nami- oh! i’m gonna cum!” he knew it. he felt how tight you were getting around his fingers. how you were pulling him in now.

“you’re so beautiful, do it. make a mess on my fingers.”

that was enough to have you throwing your arms around the man’s neck, pulling him into a hug as the coil in your belly burned.

“shit! oh fuck.” he let you hold onto him for a few seconds before he slowly pulled his fingers out of you, watching as you frown from the lack of touch.

instead, climbs off the bed, uses his abs to wipe his hands off. he swiftly undoes his leather belt, unbuckling his slacks and tossing them somewhere else in the room. almost hopping right back onto the bed, he climbs back to your limp frame.

“you okay?” he asks, removing a few strands of hair sticking to your forehead.

“mhm.” you give him a weak thumbs up, letting your hand fall against his chest. he leans over, placing a swift kiss to your lips.

“i know you can give me another one though.”

and maybe that’s how you ended up here. bent over his sink, watching as he fucks you passionately. one hand gently around your throat, holding you up, and the other dug securely into your waist. his strokes are slow, sensual. but the way he was looking at you. his eyes got darker, body seemed to get bigger, and he was fucking you in front of his mirror.

“i knew you could take it, hm? say ‘i’m all yours’.” he watched you in the mirror as your makeup smudged and began to run down your face.

“i’m all yours, nami!” you cry out, feeling full from his length.

“mhm, good job baby. now say ‘im a great mother’.” you shake your head before he stops you, halting his movements and staring at you in the mirror. lips pressed against your ear, eye contact never stopping.

“was i asking you? say it.” you whine, trying to fuck yourself into his length, only to get met with a slap on the ass.

“say. it.”

“i’m a great mother!” he rams back into you, causing you to hunch over the counter. eyes still on the mirror as your breast press against the cold marble. he’s relentless, needy. his hand presses into your back as he fucks into you.

“yes you fucking are baby. let me give you another one.” he didn’t know what he was saying. all he knew was that seeing you, bent over his counter, eyes rolling to the back of your head, drooling. he never wanted to stop. he never was going to. he could feel the climax building, watching and feeling as you came undone under him.

“i’m gonna cum baby, oh fuck!”

-

it’s a short drive to his school, and before long, you’re stepping out, holding his hand as you walk him to class. yuji doesn’t mind- not yet, at least. he swings your arm between you both, talking about his favorite cartoons and how he’s going to beat his friend at some game they play during recess.

but as you reach the door to his classroom, his chatter slows, his fingers curling around yours a little tighter.

you glance down at him. “what’s up, baby?”

“you’re gonna be okay today, right?” he hesitates, then looks up at you with those big, earnest eyes.

you blink, caught off guard.

“of course. why wouldn’t i be?”

“sometimes you look tired after you drop me off.” he shifts on his feet, playing with his fingers.

your chest tightens.

you crouch down so you’re at his level, cupping his little face in both hands.

“baby, i’m always okay. especially when i get to come home to you, you hear me? you’re my favorite person in this whole world. i’m always okay when im with you.”

he nods, his tiny hands resting over yours.

“promise?” his voice small.

you lean in, kissing his forehead.

“i super promise.”

a throat clears behind you.

you already know who it is before you turn, feeling the weight of his gaze before you even meet his eyes.

nanami stands in the doorway, his usual crisp attire perfectly in place, though there’s a softness in his face when he looks at yuji and a different kind of softness when his eyes flicker to you.

“good morning, yuji.” he greets first, as always.

“morning, mr. nanami!” yuji chirps, then glances back at you.

“mommy’s happy today.”

your lips part slightly, surprised at his boldness, but nanami only nods, as if he already knew.

“good,” he says simply, then meets your gaze, something unreadable flickering behind his glasses. “i like seeing that.”

your breath catches for just a second, but before you can respond, yuji tugs on your hand.

“okay, mama, you can go now. love you!”

you exhale a quiet laugh, leaning down to kiss his cheek.

“love you more, baby.”

he runs inside without another glance, leaving you standing in the doorway with nanami, his presence steady beside you.

you glance up at him, tilting your head. “you always this charming first thing in the morning?”

“only with you.” he exhales softly, almost a laugh.

“dangerous habit, mr. kento.” your heart stumbles, but you cover it with a smirk.

nanami hums, hands in his pockets. “so i’ve been told.”

you roll your eyes, shaking your head as you take a step back.

“see you later, nami.”

“looking forward to it.” his lips twitch into a smile.

you turn, heading back down the hall, but you can still feel his gaze on you.

and for once, you don’t mind being watched.

© vantetaes. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarize any of my works. ageless/blank blogs dni.

[naokointhewind]

“Do you like it?”

Silence hung in the air for a few seconds as you watched your stern-faced fiancé scrutinise what had just been presented to him.

Nanami had just returned from a long day of work, his creased leather briefcase barely having hit the hardwood of the foyer before you hurried down the steps to greet him. On any normal day, a quick kiss alongside an update on how dinner was coming along was the routine that Kento had grown happily accustomed to as his welcome home. But with a whimsical litte partner like you to keep him on his toes, he was hardly surprised when your first greeting to him was an abrupt flash of your stomach—a glistening emerald gem, hanging from a sleek gold bar that pierced right through your navel, swung gently against your skin.

“When did you…?” His toneless yet gentle voice finally broke through the pin-drop silence.

“Today. I wanted to surprise you with it.” You answered hesitantly, unsure of whether he liked the new addition or not. It had been a rather impulsive decision made by you that afternoon, when nothing at home was satiating the midday boredom, to get a new piercing. Something bold. Something to keep you excited and occupied from missing your bronze Adonis. It was between a belly button piercing or a nose piercing, but you went with the former after telling yourself that if it wasn’t to your taste, as least you could always hide it.

There was another bout of silence, and it took every bone and nerve in your body to refrain from the urge to shake an opinionated answer out of him.

“Darling…? Do you not like it-”

“Does it hurt?” The broad blonde cocked his head ever-so-slightly to the side, as if he was secretly trying to get a better angle of the novelty.

You shrugged, admittedly a little lost for words at his intense focus. “I’m a little sore, but as long as I don’t tug at it, it seems to be okay.” He was clearly still in deep thought as he gave a quick nod to your reply.

Another second of silence passed and that was the last that your patience could handle, “Ken, you’re freaking me out a little. Do you like it or not?” Your hand gripped loosely at the cotton hem of your shirt, ready to let it drop back down over your abdomen to hide the piercing away until the cool pads of Nanami’s fingers reached out to hold the curve of your waist.

“You look stunning, sweetheart. I love it.” One corner of his lips curled up into a soft smile as his eyes at last broke away from the dangling jewellery to meet your relieved gaze. “How do you keep getting prettier?” His soft lips found yours in time to keep the answer a mystery.

Nanami adored the unexpected surprise more than he could express, though. He could hardly understand his own unspoken thrill. Something about seeing the figure of his beau decorated in jewels that almost compared to your beauty was enough to make him appreciate how lucky he was to be your fiancé (for the fifth time that week).

end note: honestly, i was gonna add smut to this because ;3 but decided to just keep it short since it’s my first post. might make a part 2 tho if this gets much love.

[c4toru]

jerking an exhausted nanami off from behind

“s’too much sweetheart— h-hah..” you’ve been overstimulating him for the past 30 minutes, your right hand covered in your husbands slick. he’s laying in between your legs, head resting in the crook of your neck as his hands latch firmly onto your plump thighs.

he had come home from work clearly frustrated with whatever went on inside his workplace, you just wanted to give him somethin’ to cool off after a hard day at work! “nuh uh.. s’not enough, you’re being soo good for me kennnn.” your free hand threads fingers through his silky hair as your sultry voice throws him for a loop. he truly underestimated how filthy is little wife was.

he’s planting delicate kisses on your neck while he’s huffing out shallow breaths, you continue to jerk his lengthy cock, milking whatever he has left inside of him. “f-fuck nngh m’gonna cum again- mmf,” he’s moaning out — pleading even, you’ve put a hand tightly over his mouth, silencing his loud moans. “yeah? you’re being so loudd.. heh- c’mon give it to me kentoo” you giggle, fisting his cock while his leaky tip oozes out beads of pre-cum.

his hands are gripping your thighs while he bucks his hips into your hand, chasing his orgasm. the room is filled with obscene noises and muffled moans, you move your hand from his mouth upwards to his eyes, blinding him. “mmngh- please p-please yeah.. d-don’t stop shiiit!” he groans, tilting his head back as the coil deep in his stomach unwravels.

your hand is jerking him up n down, squeezing him tightly. his cum is pouring out, dripping all over your hand as you focus your strokes onto his sensitive tip. “o. . . oh fuuuuck fuck fuck hnghh ah!” he whines while his cum flows out his slit in large spurts. he’s made a mess all throughout your hand, cum dripping down to his balls.

“feel better big boy..?” you giggle, removing both your hands from his body causing him to wince out of overstimulation. “hah.. almost killed me y’know” he glares at your smitten facial expressions, you roll your eyes before landing a big kiss onto his parched lips. “whateverrr, you liked it!” you reply, only thing on your mind is the next time you’ll be able to help ‘cool off your husband after work’

who knows.. maybe this will become a little routine you guys have

a/n : can you tell i like sub nanami.. ermm ; got lazy at the end loll likes & reblogs appreciated <3 kisses from c4toru !!

[orikixx]

Blueprints & Heartbeats (4/?)

Part: 1 2 3 4

Featuring: Nanami Kento

Warnings: a teeny tiny bit angsty

Summary: academic rivals to lovers! a mixup in the architecture group project forces you to team up with Nanami Kento, the serious and stoic student. But maybe, he isn’t as brooding as you thought?

Author's note: they yapped sm but it’s important lore-wise trust me and I’m sorry for the ending but it’s gonna be worth it, hope you guys enjoy this💕

Divider credit: @soulari

Taglist: @yourname-exee @realalpacorn @zayuriluvs @galactacium @queenofthekill @nuhahani @nanamineedstherapy

[xhyjin]

yanderenanami! who was your boss when you two first met? you were an intern at the company he worked at, assigned to be his personal assistant and tend to his needs, handling tasks like making reservations, scheduling his appointments/meetings, and basically all the small stuff he couldn’t waste any company time on. your relationship was strictly professional. you two never spoke unless you needed his confirmation on something; other than that, it was pure silence.

yanderenanami! you had been working with him for the past 8 months as an intern, and you were seeing no signs of getting the job permanently. you had no choice; you couldn’t waste any more time as an intern—you had loans to pay off and bills to take care of! when you knocked on his office door and heard a low grumble of “come in,” you walked into his office with your resignation letter behind your back. “mr. nanami, i need you to sign something off for me,” you asked, expecting it to be another application or something for approval. but when you handed him the envelope, he raised an eyebrow. “what’s this?” he said, not even letting you answer as he opened the envelope and read it. looking at you and then the envelope, he said, “you’re quitting?” you nodded, not knowing what to say. he just sighed and signed it off before handing it back to you.

yanderenanami! you walked out of his office dumbfounded by his lack of sympathy. i mean, he didn’t even say goodbye or anything along the lines of “it was great having you here,” but what did you expect? he had always been stoic and nonchalant since the day you started working there. you packed away the little stuff you had on your desk in front of his office, a bit bummed that you didn’t get the job, but you weren’t going to continue working for free. you walked into the elevator, thinking you would never see mr. nanami again either as the elevator doors shut.

yanderenanami! he immediately called one of his buddies when you walked out of his office—the one who was good at keeping tabs and dealing with situations like yours: toji fushiguro. he told him straight up what he needed, which was you, but he wasn’t going to ask toji to kidnap you or anything extreme. he just wanted him to keep track of where you were, who you were with, what you were doing, and all the usual details. that way, he could have some time to plan something out, something special for you.

yanderenanami! who spent weeks planning everything for your “arrival,” setting up cameras in every corner, barricading any exits from the inside, keeping sharp or harmful objects away, and most of all, creating a perfect little room for you to spend your time in. you were going to be there for a long time, and maybe a good time. he had toji along with shiu parked outside your place. It was in the middle of the night, and due to your circumstance, you didn’t live in the best part of town, so cameras or police or civilians were nowhere in sight, which was perfect for him but not perfect for you. he unlocked your door with the duplicate key that toji had made, tiptoeing into your house like a thief and up the stairs to your single bedroom where you lay like a princess in slumber. he carefully placed a cloth on your nose, making sure not to hurt you in the process, and as he felt you fall into an unconscious state that wasn’t slumber, he carefully tossed you over his shoulder before making his way out of the house and into the van that was parked outside.

yanderenanami! who watched you sleep peacefully as shiu drove to nanamis house that was on the other side of town, a gated neighbourhood where only the elites lived, where you would be safe. he knew that shiu and toji might me wondering who you were or why you were in this situation but he didn’t care all that he cared about was that he finally got you and he will never let you go.

yanderenanami! who carried you into his house, which was prepared for your “visit,” carefully taking you up the stairs as you lay unconscious in his arms to the room he had prepared for you. he placed you down on the bed, tucking you in with a faint smile on his lips. he didn’t want you to be scared when you woke up, so he placed a stuffed animal—your favorite—beside you and left the room, his heart beating fast as he couldn’t believe he had you all to himself now.

yanderenanami! who woke up in a panic the next day when he heard your scream but quickly calmed down once he realized what was happening. of course, you would scream—you had fallen asleep in your room, only to wake up in a perfect replica of it, but with an eerie feeling lingering in the air.

he quickly threw on a shirt and sweats, making his way to your room, which was heavily locked and barricaded. when he finally opened the door, he saw you curled up in the corner, legs pulled to your chest as you trembled in fear. but the moment your eyes met his, something shifted.

as he stepped closer, a small smile played on his lips. “relax,” he said, his hands reaching out, almost like how you’d show a dog you were friendly. “you’re safe now, okay? it’s just me.” his voice was calm, reassuring, as he crouched down to your level, gently patting your head.

“i’ve got you now.”

[nanamineedstherapy]

Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

F!Non-Sorceress CEO Reader X Gojo Satoru X Nanami Kento

Summary: You should be overjoyed that Gojo Satoru & Nanami Kento are your husbands. But you feel your skin crawl as you become the third wheel in your own marriage.

Trigger Warnings: (May contain spoilers for the chapter) ⚠️ Severe Dumbassery – Gojo and Haibara exist. That’s the warning. ⚠️Gojo & Nanami Acting Like High School Boys With a Crush – Secondhand embarrassment included. ⚠️ #UnpaidInternMegumi – Babysitting his parents...Again. ⚠️ Haibara & Aviation Crimes ⚠️ Food-Related Manipulation – If a man makes you pancakes, it’s a trap. ⚠️ #LizardmanMegumiConfirmed – Identity Crisis Megumi™ – Is he an alien? A lizardman? A cult leader? No one knows. ⚠️ #NPCGojo – Bugged out of the simulation years ago. ⚠️ #BaguetteDuels – Haibara vs. Reporters – One man. One moustache. One unnecessary conspiracy. ⚠️ #GroceryShoppingWars – Megumi vs. The Snack Hoarders™. ⚠️ #BabyRaccoonAdoptionArc ⚠️ #RiotForNoReason – Why are men™? ⚠️ Public Outrage & Violence – People really need hobbies ⚠️ Trauma Flashbacks – When life insists on being a horror movie. ⚠️ Attempted Assault – Some people can’t handle a woman being successful. ⚠️ #VillainOriginStoryUnlocked – Severe Ass-Kicking Incoming – They poked the wrong bear.

Previous Chapter 12 (alt ending 2.3) - Not Heroes (Tumblr/Ao3)

Chapter 13 (alt ending 2.4) - Burn the Mother of Three

The next morning, you emerged from the guest bedroom dressed to kill—figuratively, of course. Your fitted blazer and low heels screamed, “CEO, who could destroy your entire lineage before lunch.” Your stomach growled loudly, reminding you that, despite your intimidating aura, you were still a mere mortal.

The kitchen counter caught your eye.

Japanese soufflé pancakes.

Did they go and buy it early in the morning?

No Nanami was OCD about them, so he probably made them.

Golden brown, fluffy stacks of heaven sat neatly on two plates. The aroma wafted through the air, warm and inviting—a siren call to your empty stomach. Your feet betrayed you, carrying you closer despite every ounce of willpower screaming at you to walk away.

Damn your pregnancy cravings for Nanami’s cooking.

You eyed the plates suspiciously. Nanami’s meticulous plating was unmistakable—syrup poured in an even spiral, berries arranged like a Renaissance painting. Beside it was Gojo’s plate, chaotic but still oddly charming. His pancakes had a mountain of whipped cream that defied physics, chocolate chips spilling like they’d staged a rebellion.

Your stomach growled again, this time loud enough to echo.

“Fine,” you muttered, glancing around to ensure the coast was clear. The penthouse was eerily quiet.

You picked up a fork, hesitating only for a second before cutting into Nanami’s plate. The first bite melted in your mouth—the perfect balance of sweet and savoury. A tiny moan escaped before you could stop it.

“Goddammit, why does he have to be good at this too?” You grumbled, shoving another piece into your mouth.

One bite turned into two, then three. By the time you came up for air, Nanami’s plate was clean. You stared at the empty dish, mildly horrified. “Well, it’s not like I meant to...”

Your gaze drifted to Gojo’s plate.

“...No.”

Your stomach growled again, louder this time.

“...Maybe just a taste,” you reasoned, reaching for the second fork.

Gojo’s pancakes were equally sinful, though in a completely different way. The chocolate chips and whipped cream shouldn’t have worked together, but they did. A mix of chaos and comfort that made you groan in betrayal.

You demolished his plate, too, wiping your mouth with a napkin like the villain you were.

“Not a word,” you muttered to the babies, who kicked softly in response. Setting the plates back down, you turned toward the door.

Before you could take two steps, your phone rang.

“Where the hell are you?” Megumi’s voice barked through the speaker, a mix of irritation and concern.

“I’m leaving now,” you replied, irritation creeping into your tone. “What happened? Why is there so much wind?”

“What happened?” Megumi repeated mockingly. “Because Haibara and I have been waiting on the rooftop for fifteen minutes. With the helicopter. Which is burning fuel. Because you’re late. Again.”

“Helicopter?” You echoed, already moving toward the elevator. “I didn’t ask for—”

“You never ask for it, but we know you’ll end up needing it,” Megumi interrupted, his tone exasperated. “Otherwise, Haibara and I will be happy to commit reporter manslaughter. Now move before I bill you for the fuel.”

“I’ll be there in five.” You rolled your eyes, disconnected the call, and pocketed your phone as you waddled your human-suitcase self out.

//

Nanami and Gojo peeked out from behind the pantry door, watching as you disappeared into the elevator.

“She ate it,” Gojo whispered, barely able to contain his excitement.

“She ate both plates,” Nanami confirmed, his voice low but triumphant.

They clinked their coffee mugs together in silent celebration—though Gojo’s was filled with strawberry soda.

Gojo grinning, cheered. “Told you the ‘indulgent pregnancy-friendly’ soufflé pancakes would work. Admit it, I’m THE daddy!”

Nanami rolled his eyes, a rare smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. This doesn’t mean she’s forgiven us.”

“But it’s a start,” Gojo cheered, his grin widening. “She couldn’t resist our cooking. That’s progress!”

“MY COOKING,” Nanami deadpanned, “because all you did was annoy me and make it look terrible.”

Gojo looked at Nanami with a pout, resembling a wet kitten. Nanami sighed and handed him another plate of pancakes to ruin with his “artistic endeavours.”

“We’ll win her back,” Nanami said, his tone resolute, determination shining in his eyes.

“And until then, how about more pancake flavours?” Gojo suggested, already brainstorming the next flavour combination.

“Oh, definitely. But let’s not forget about regular food too.”

Unbeknownst to you, Gojo had woken Nanami up at six a.m. for this—not that Nanami was complaining; he had barely slept because he was so excited.

//

As you approached the rooftop, you spotted Megumi and Haibara near the helicopter. Haibara was casually leaning against the fuselage, while Megumi paced back and forth, arms crossed tightly over his chest, a frown etched on his face. The moment you appeared, Megumi pointed at his watch, mouthing, “Five minutes means five.”

Megumi was dressed like he’d stepped out of a billionaire’s fashion spread: a perfectly tailored charcoal suit with a subtle pinstripe, his tie slightly loosened but still pristine. His hair was slicked back, but the wind from the rotors sent stray strands tumbling over his sharp jawline. He looked like he was ready to murder someone—probably you—if not for the way he immediately extended a hand to help you climb into the helicopter.

“Take your time,” he muttered sarcastically, though his grip would be firm, steadying you with an ease that betrayed his annoyance.

You handed him your handbag smugly, climbing into the helicopter with Haibara’s help, of course. Megumi scowled but followed you in.

Haibara, on the other hand, was the picture of relaxed confidence. He wore a black leather jacket over a white silk shirt, the sleeves pushed up to reveal forearms that probably had their own fan club. His sunglasses hung loosely from the neckline of his shirt, and his messy hair looked intentional, like he’d just rolled out of bed looking that good.

“Good morning to you too,” Haibara quipped, smirking.

You rolled your eyes at him as you settled into your seat.

Haibara had a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he slid into the pilot’s seat. “Bet you didn’t think I could fly this thing.”

“I hope that’s something you’ve at least learned as a spy,” you shot back.

“You’re not even supposed to be flying this thing,” Megumi snapped, securing your seatbelt with more care than his tone suggested. “This is my helicopter.”

“And yet, here I am,” Haibara replied smoothly, flipping switches like he was born to do it.

You blinked, still trying to process how your day had gone from pancake to riding in a private helicopter piloted by an ex-MI6 agent. “I’m sorry, you really know how to fly a helicopter, or is this going to be like the time you said you learned how to ride a bike and Megumi and I ended up with bruises all over? Only this time, we won’t be left to tell the tale.”

Haibara glanced back at you, smirking. “A. We don’t talk about that! And B, what, you think I spent my MI6 years just filing paperwork? Sit back, cookie. I’ve got this.”

His nickname whisked you back to your teenage years when Haibara had just been introduced to you and Megumi. At first, he barely spoke, spending most of his time in bed, suffering from pain and trying to remember his old, forgotten life—like a confused cat trying to figure out how to use a can opener.

During Haibara’s recovery, when he was stuck in bed with casts on his arm and leg, you and Megumi took it upon yourselves to “help.” This mostly involved drawing ridiculous things on his casts—cats, smiley faces, and once, a poorly done caricature of Megumi’s mom.

The nickname “cookie” wasn’t something Haibara came up with randomly. It started during one of those rare moments when he wasn’t drowning in pain or confusion. You’d snuck into his room with Megumi, carrying a tray of burnt cookies you’d tried baking for the first time. Megumi had grumbled the whole way, muttering about how pointless it was since Haibara probably wouldn’t even eat them.

But Haibara did eat them, wincing at every bite yet finishing the entire tray without complaint. “Best cookies I’ve ever had,” he’d said with a small smile that oddly reminded you of Nanami now—even though his voice was strained, and you could tell he was lying. From then on, he called you “cookie” whenever you brought him food or cheered him up during rehab.

Soon enough, he started to mess with you two. Being around Nanami’s age, he was a few years older than you, while Megumi was the baby of the group. Before long, the three of you were like the court jesters to the three musketeers—well, except for Megumi, who was more like the reluctant royal guard you dragged along everywhere.

Before you knew it, he was scouted for MI6. Little did they realize, he had simply wanted to be a spy all along and had cleverly maneuvered his way into that position.

But things weren’t always lighthearted. Haibara’s transition to MI6 came out of the blue, and you and Megumi went from teasing him daily to watching him pack his life into a suitcase. The night before he left, the three of you sat on the roof of Megumi’s family home, sharing cookies and gazing at the stars. Haibara promised he’d come back, and while you believed him, it didn’t make saying goodbye any easier.

After he left, you and Megumi were heartbroken when his communication was cut off during his training. It felt like a bad joke when you realized Megumi, despite his stoicism, had been sneaking messages into Haibara’s mailbox for months just to feel connected. You always wondered what he wrote in those letters.

Soon, Megumi grew quieter, becoming more focused on his work. You threw yourself into your own company, but there was always an unspoken understanding between you and Megumi that something essential was missing.

When Haibara finally returned, he was sharp-eyed, confident, and carrying the kind of secrets that could get anyone killed. Sure, he was a different man, but still the same guy who’d steal your food and roll his eyes at Megumi’s overprotective nature. You had thought the reunion would be awkward at first, filled with sarcastic remarks and side-eyes, but in reality, it didn’t take long for the three of you to fall back into your old rhythm.

“Cookie,” Haibara said again, glancing back at you with a grin. “Don’t fall asleep back there. I need someone to back me up when Megumi starts lecturing me about fuel costs.”

Megumi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t lecture. I state facts.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Haibara teased. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, baby sorcerer.”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

Megumi muttered something under his breath, probably a prayer for patience. His gaze lingered on your swollen belly for a moment, his frown softening just enough for only Haibara to notice.

“We should’ve left earlier,” he said quietly, avoiding your eyes.

“And missed this grand display of alpha male energy?” you teased, though your voice wavered slightly. “Not a chance.”

Haibara chuckled, the sound low and rich. “She’s got a point, Fushiguro. Lighten up. We’re just taking her back to her little HQ, not a war zone.”

Megumi’s glare could’ve frozen lava, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he leaned back in his seat, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest.

As the city shrank beneath you, Haibara kept up a steady stream of casual chatter, pointing out landmarks and cracking jokes that had you laughing despite yourself. Megumi stayed mostly silent, his gaze fixed on the horizon, though his occasional sharp remarks reminded you he was still paying attention.

“Hey,” Haibara called back, his tone suddenly softer. “You doing okay back there?”

You glanced at him, surprised by the genuine concern in his voice.

“Yeah,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’m okay.”

Now, in the helicopter, you couldn’t help but think of how far you’d all come. Haibara was effortlessly piloting, like he wasn’t the same guy who used to complain about your burnt food. Megumi, even in his tailored suit, still had that same frown he wore when you’d dragged him into one of your schemes as kids.

“Do you ever think about the old days?” You asked, leaning back in your seat.

“Only when I want to feel old,” Haibara replied, his grin widening. “But yeah, sometimes. Like when Fushiguro kept tripping over himself during Hanetsuki.”

“I never tripped,” Megumi snapped, though the faint blush on his ears betrayed him.

“And you?” Haibara glanced at you in the rearview mirror.

“All the time,” you admitted softly, your gaze shifting to the city below. “We were a bane for Megumi’s mom.”

Haibara’s smirk faded slightly, replaced by something gentler. “Still are cookie. Just in a different way.”

Megumi didn’t say anything, but the way he reached out to adjust your seatbelt, his touch careful and deliberate, said enough.

Even now, with everything that had changed, the core of your little group remained the same. A chaotic mix of loyalty, sarcasm, and love that didn’t need words to be understood.

---

The Great Haibara Conspiracy

It was a crisp eleven a.m., the kind of Tokyo morning that looked like a postcard, and Haibara was living his best life while doing what he did best: causing problems with unflappable confidence.

Clad in a jacket, half-unbuttoned shirt—highly inappropriate for work—and Givenchy trousers. He'd accessorized the ensemble with the pièce de résistance: a thin, twirlable fake moustache. For reasons known only to him, he stood outside your building swarming with reporters, clutching a stack of questionably sourced documents in one hand and a baguette in the other.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Haibara announced, flipping his jacket collar up as if he were revealing the plot twist of the century. His fake moustache wobbled dangerously, but he didn’t seem to notice. “I have uncovered the truth. And it’s not what you think.”

The reporters collectively leaned in, pens poised, like they were about to witness history—or a train wreck.

“First off,” Haibara began, slapping a tinfoil-covered clipboard, “Fushiguro Megumi is not human. He’s an alien.”

“Do you have evidence?” a brave soul asked.

“Do I have evidence?” Haibara echoed, scoffing like the question was beneath him. “Do you have evidence that he isn’t?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Exhibit A: He communicates with his dogs through telepathy. Normal humans? We have to yell, ‘Sit!’ five times before they even think about it. Megumi? One glare and his guard dogs are out here doing synchronized stealth assassinations. That’s not training—it’s alien mind control.”

The reporters murmured, equal parts confused and intrigued.

“Exhibit B!” Haibara shouted, pulling out a crumpled receipt from a convenience store. “I caught him buying three cans of tuna and nothing else. Tuna! What kind of human subsists solely on canned fish? That’s astronaut food, people. Connect the dots.”

He slapped the stack of documents for emphasis, sending a few papers fluttering to the ground. “Exhibit C: He’s a loner. Socially allergic. Most humans crave interaction, but Megumi acts like smiling in public is a punishable offence. Textbook alien behaviour.

Exhibit D: He doesn’t use his phone like a normal person. While the rest of us are doom-scrolling at 2 a.m., he’s probably communicating with the mothership via telepathy or something.

Exhibit E: His hobbies are too niche. Who spends their free time researching ancient texts about interdimensional travel? I’ll tell you who—aliens trying to get back home.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, and Haibara smirked, twirling his baguette like a mic drop.

“Exhibit F: His emotional responses are completely out of whack. Laughs at a life-or-death situation but overreacts when you don’t text back quickly enough? That’s not a human. That’s a poorly mimicking lizardman.”

“What about Gojo?” another reporter interjected.

Haibara froze, his eyes narrowing. Slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a laser pointer, aiming it at a hastily drawn diagram of a stick figure wearing sunglasses. “I was getting to him,” he hissed.

The reporters perked up.

He took a deep breath—the kind you take—before delivering devastating news. “Gojo Satoru isn’t real. He’s an NPC.”

The crowd collectively gasped.

Haibara straightened his moustache with the gravitas of someone delivering breaking news. “He’s too perfect. His hair? Flawless. His sunglass collection? Always on point. His vibes? Unbeatable. No human has vibes that good. He’s a program.

Exhibit A: He grins and stands still in crowds, staring into the void like he’s waiting for a quest to start.

Exhibit B: He knows everything. Like he’s reading from a cheat sheet.

And Exhibit C: His uncanny ability to dodge responsibility is like a bullet in The Matrix.

Exhibit D: His total lack of emotional depth—have you ever seen that man cry? No, because NPCs don’t have emotions.

And Exhibit E: The memes. He responded to a national crisis with a meme. Who does that? I’ll tell you who—someone who’s coded to be entertaining, not real.”

The crowd of reporters was now equal parts sceptical and furiously scribbling in their notebooks.

“Mark my words,” Haibara said, raising the baguette high like a sword of truth. “This is the story of the century. Aliens. NPCs. A secret conspiracy to infiltrate humanity. And I’ve got the receipts.”

Haibara leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “He doesn’t blink.”

The space went silent.

“That’s right,” Haibara said, triumphantly twirling his fake moustache. “I’ve been watching. He doesn’t blink because he’s coded to save CPU power. Wake up, sheeple!”

“But he’s a corporate hero going against the system,” someone protested.

“And so was Clippy from Microsoft Word,” Haibara snapped. “Doesn’t mean he was real!”

He stepped back, holding up his clipboard like it was the Ark of the Covenant. “Aliens. NPCs. It’s all connected. The conspiracy runs deep, and I am the only one brave enough to expose it.”

With that, he turned and strutted away, his fake moustache dangling precariously, leaving behind a bunch of reporters who exchanged bewildered glances, some already drafting headlines, others wondering if they’d just been part of a fever dream.

//

Later that afternoon, Haibara lounged in a corner booth at a minimalist café, his laptop open and his moustache and sunglasses perched unnecessarily on his face. He looked like a hacker in a spy thriller—or someone pretending to be one for aesthetic purposes.

The screen reflected a cascade of code, his fingers flying across the keyboard with a precision that was equal parts skill and audacity.

“Perfect,” he muttered, leaning back with a self-satisfied smirk that would make even Gojo’s grin look modest.

Hacking into Gojo’s phone was almost insultingly easy. The man could dodge attacks at the speed of light but fell for a phishing link offering a free pastry in under three seconds. Haibara almost felt bad about how predictable it was.

Almost.

Within moments, Gojo’s phone was compromised. His contact list now read like a dystopian NPC roster: Nanami had become “Budget Stranger #47,” Dr. Shoko—whoever she was—was now “Generic Medic Character,” and your name had been replaced with “Main Quest Giver.”

The icing on top? Every incoming call triggered a robotic voice saying, “Loading... Please wait for the script to initiate.”

Pleased with his handiwork, Haibara closed his laptop and took a sip of his overpriced matcha latte, as if he hadn’t just committed cybercrime against the most powerful sorcerer in existence. He then got up, picked up some pastries for you and Megumi, and headed out.

//

By late afternoon, Haibara was at your office building, slipping through the glass doors with the confidence of a man who had never once been questioned in his life.

A few well-placed whispers and an overheard “accidental” phone call were all it took to set the stage for his next move.

“Did you hear?” he said, leaning conspiratorially toward the receptionist, his voice just loud enough to carry. “She’s dating Alexandr Wang—you know, the billionaire? Youngest self-made only after her, of course. They’ve been secretly meeting in Osaka.”

The receptionist froze, his eyes wide as saucers. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” Haibara replied, his expression grave despite the sparkle of mischief in his eyes. “I overheard her talking about their next meeting. Match made in heaven, don’t you think?”

Within minutes, the office was buzzing. Whispers travelled faster than cursed energy, and by the time you arrived for your meeting, the air was viscous with speculation. People kept whispering about your “secret romance” instead of anything work-related.

//

That evening, Haibara reappeared outside your building—where the reporters camped 24*7 now—his moustache shadow stretching under the glow of a street lamp. He paced back and forth, the energy of a Shakespearean villain radiating from his every movement.

“I challenge you to a duel!” he bellowed, pointing a baguette at the confused group of journalists loitering near the entrance.

One of them stepped forward, visibly done with his nonsense. “What are you even talking about?”

“At sunrise!” Haibara declared, ignoring the question entirely. “Meet me at the park. Bring your sharpest lens and your strongest pens. Only the worthy will leave unscathed.”

The reporters exchanged long, exhausted glances. One of them muttered, “I need a drink,” while another took out their phone, already Googling job openings in less chaotic industries.

Haibara, undeterred, twirled the baguette like a sword and turned on his heel, disappearing into the night with the histrionic flair of a man who believed he was the protagonist in every story.

The reporters watched him go, the silence broken only by the faint sound of someone asking, “Was that guy real, or did we collectively hallucinate him?”

After Haibara turned the corner, safely out of sight from the reporters, Megumi grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Taking a pleasant evening stroll,” Haibara replied, nonchalantly biting into his baguette.

Megumi’s glare hardened. “You know I hate media attention. Why the hell would you start spouting conspiracies about me?”

“Relax,” Haibara said, waving a hand dismissively as crumbs tumbled from his mouth. “I made it so outlandish that no self-respecting journalist would touch it if they valued their credibility.”

“You called me a lizardman!” Megumi’s anger flared.

Haibara grinned like an unrepentant idiot. “Hehe, my bad.” Then his gaze shifted past Megumi, and his expression brightened. "Oh, hey, what are you doing out of your office?”

Megumi instinctively turned to look, finding nothing but empty space.

When he spun back, Haibara was gone.

He stomped away, muttering angrily to himself. “Lizardman… Unbelievable. I should’ve let the reporters eat him alive. So much money wasted to shush the cretins.”

Haibara did not show up for the duel—not out of fear, but because his snores were louder than his alarm. Not that it mattered much; the reporters didn’t show up either.

//

Soon after, Haibara was perched on a park bench, tossing pieces of what appeared to be homemade food to a group of pigeons. His fake moustache was now slightly peeling at one edge, but he didn’t seem to care.

“Eat up, my feathered brethren,” he said softly, scattering crumbs of Nanami’s homemade food with the flourish of a 19th-century gentleman hosting a soirée. “Tonight, we plot the downfall of our enemies. For the empire, of course.”

The pigeons cooed, pecking at the ground like they understood.

From the rooftop across the street, Gojo adjusted his binoculars unnecessarily, squinting as if the distance somehow distorted the insanity he was witnessing. Not sure why the beholder of the ‘six eyes’ was using binoculars.

“Kento,” Gojo said slowly, “I think we’ve lost him.”

Nanami, still staring through his own binoculars, didn’t reply immediately. His jaw was tight, and his left hand gripped the railing like it was the only thing keeping him from jumping down and strangling Haibara.

“Is he... talking to the pigeons?” Gojo continued, voice a mix of disbelief and morbid fascination.

“Yes,” Nanami replied, tone flat. “And he’s feeding them the food we made for her.”

Gojo lowered the binoculars. “Why are we even using these? We’re right across the street!”

Nanami sighed heavily, lowering his own. “I honestly don’t know.”

The two men descended from their rooftop perch, striding toward Haibara with the determination of men on a mission. Haibara, for his part, continued tossing crumbs to the pigeons, who now seemed oddly attentive.

“My friends,” he said, addressing the birds in a tone dripping with theatrical flair, “these uncultured brutes approach us with their barbaric accusations. But fear not—I shall defend our honour.”

Gojo stopped in his tracks, staring at Haibara like he’d grown a second head. “Did he just call us uncultured brutes?”

“Haibara!” Nanami yelled at him, his voice cold enough to freeze the pigeons mid-coo, “What are you doing?”

Haibara looked up, tilting his head in feigned confusion. “I’m sorry, gentlemen. Do I... know you?”

Gojo’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious right now?!”

“Quite,” Haibara replied, his expression deadpan. He turned to the pigeons, gesturing toward Gojo and Nanami like a Victorian man introducing guests at a ball. “Allow me to present... these strangers. Who are not invited to our gathering.”

“You saw us yesterday!” Gojo wailed.

Haibara twirled his fake moustache between his fingers, smirking. “Must’ve been my evil twin. Or mayhaps... a Mole person?”

“Haibara,” Nanami said, pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to ward off a headache, “you’re wearing a fake moustache.”

Haibara gasped, clutching his chest as if Nanami had just insulted his entire lineage. “How dare you! You knaves and Nincompoops wouldn’t know a statement of style and sophistication if it smacked you with a whip!!”

Gojo chimed in, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Where’d you get the ‘stash? Do they sell them in white?”

Nanami smacked the back of his half-wit husband’s head. “Focus!”

Startled, Gojo let out an accidental mewling sound that could only be described as a cat in distress. Nanami's eyes widened in horror.

Haibara couldn’t resist mocking him. “Pray tell, are you about to embark on a whimsical chase after yon magical red dots, like a jester pursuing a wayward firefly?”

Shaking off the distraction, Nanami’s gaze returned to the pigeons pecking at the food scattered on the ground. His eyebrow twitched in incredulity. “You were feeding pigeons the food we made for her?! The food she didn’t even get to eat?!”

Haibara was offended. “Lies and slander! My feathered companions can vouch for me. Isn’t that right, Lord Fluffington?”

A particularly fat pigeon pecked at a crumb near Haibara’s shoe.

“Lord Fluffington?” Gojo echoed, his voice cracking. “Are you okay? Do you need help?”

Haibara ignored him, leaning down to address the pigeon directly. “Do not listen to these villains, my Lord. They wish to divide us. But our bond—our bond is unbreakable.”

Gojo groaned, pulling out his phone. “That’s it. I’m calling her. You’re done.”

Haibara’s grin widened. “Oh, don’t bother. I already replaced your contacts with NPC names.”

Gojo froze mid-dial, his eyes narrowing. “You did what?”

Haibara stood abruptly, brushing off his pants with a flourish. “Gentlemen, I bid you good day. I must away—Lord Fluffington and I have matters to discuss.”

“Sit down,” Nanami growled, stepping forward.

But when they looked down at Gojo’s phone and then back up, Haibara was gone.

Gojo and Nanami stood in stunned silence, scanning the park for any sign of their wayward companion.

“Did he just...?" Gojo started, gesturing vaguely at the empty bench.

“Yes,” Nanami said, his voice heavy with resignation. “He did.”

On a nearby rooftop, Megumi stood, watching the entire spectacle unfold through binoculars of his own. He sighed, muttering to himself, “This overgrown fool.”

Meanwhile, Haibara crouched behind a hedge, his fake moustache now in his pocket. He glanced at the pigeons that had followed him, nodding solemnly.

“Well done, my friends,” he said. “The mission was a success.”

The pigeons cooed in agreement.

“Now,” Haibara continued, pulling out his phone and typing furiously, “let’s see how they like finding rumours about me being her secret boyfriend on the office bulletin board.”

---

Sometime later, on the other side of town, the room buzzed with anticipation as reporters adjusted their microphones, cameras clicked incessantly, and the collective hum of whispered speculation filled the air. At the centre of it all stood Gojo Satoru and Nanami Kento, flanked by their begrudging legal counsel, Higuruma Hiromi, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

Gojo adjusted his sunglasses, his signature smirk notably absent. Nanami’s tie was slightly askew—a rare sign of unease. Higuruma stepped to the mic first, clearing his throat.

“This press conference is to address recent events and provide clarity. Please keep your questions professional,” he said, his tone clipped, though he seemed to know that was a futile request.

Nanami stepped forward, his voice steady but heavy. “We deeply regret the events that transpired. Our actions were reckless and caused harm to innocent people. For that, we are truly sorry.”

Gojo leaned in, his voice softer than expected. “We messed up. No excuses. We’re here to take responsibility and make things right.”

The reporters pounced, and the room erupted into a flurry of questions.

“We will address your questions, but keep them relevant and within legal bounds,” Higuruma added sharply, already preparing for the mess. “Anything outside these parameters will not be entertained.”

A reporter wasted no time. “Why did you storm the headquarters? Was it premeditated, or a spur-of-the-moment decision?”

Before either man could answer, Higuruma cut in, his voice icy. “No comment. Addressing this could complicate ongoing legal proceedings.”

“Were your movements during the incident influenced by your involvement with organized crime? Some have compared them to Yakuza or even terrorist operations.”

Higuruma visibly pinched the bridge of his nose, ready to intervene again, but Nanami cut in. “We are neither. Our actions were not criminally motivated, and any insinuation otherwise is baseless.”

“What about the school you’re affiliated with? Jujutsu Tech is shrouded in mystery. Some are speculating it’s a cult. Care to comment?”

Gojo’s grin widened. “A cult? I mean, we’re cool enough to be one. But no, we’re just a very exclusive, very niche educational institution. Sorry, no brochures.”

Nanami added dryly, “We don’t recruit. We save lives.”

Someone from the back yelled, voice muffled. “Mr. Nanami, why do you always wear the same tie? Are you a lazily-drawn Squidward?”

Nanami’s tone was as dry as ever. “It’s called consistency. You should try it.”

“Mr. Gojo! Mr. Nanami! How does your wife feel about your actions?”

“Will she divorce you?”

“Are the rumours true that she’s the one pulling the strings behind your release?”

Nanami’s jaw tightened. “Our wife has no involvement in legal proceedings regarding us. Any insinuation otherwise is baseless.”

A reporter shouted over the others, “Is it true she’s pregnant? How does she feel about raising children with men who stormed her own corporate building?”

Gojo’s smile turned razor-sharp. “I think you should consider what it says about you that you’re asking invasive questions about a pregnant woman’s private life. Next.”

From the back, a muffled voice piped up, “Is your hair real, Mr. Gojo? Or do you bleach it so much because you’re going bald?”

The room burst with stifled laughter. Nanami’s brow twitched, but Gojo’s grin didn’t falter.

“Real hair, real charm, real skills,” Gojo quipped. “And no, not bald. I’ll give you a follicle count if it helps you sleep at night.”

Another question cut through the chaos. “Many are calling you both dangerous and unfit as husbands and fathers. What’s your response?”

Nanami’s expression hardened. “Everyone is entitled to their opinion. But baseless accusations and vile harassment against our wife will not be tolerated. We are pursuing legal action against anyone spreading misinformation or threats.”

Gojo chimed in, his tone laced with menace. “Keep it up, and you’ll hear from our lawyers.” He added to himself, “—or worse.”

The tension shifted as some reporters openly fawned over the two men.

“Mr. Gojo, Mr. Nanami, how does it feel knowing you’ve become global heartthrobs? Many are calling you the most attractive men alive!”

“So are serial killers.” Nanami deadpanned.

Gojo’s grin returned, cocky and unapologetic. “Flattered, honestly. But, uh, taken. Very taken.”

Nanami sighed, adjusting his mic. “Next question.”

The room descended into bedlam again as a voice rose above the din. “What about the rumours of your wife’s affair with Yu Haibara, the ex-MI6 agent? They’ve been spotted together frequently.”

Silence fell. Gojo and Nanami exchanged a quick glance, their surprise poorly concealed. Hiromi smirked behind the bottle of water he was drinking from.

Nanami was the first to speak, his voice calm but firm. “Haibara is a trusted friend and our wife’s bodyguard. Any insinuation beyond that is baseless and disrespectful.”

Gojo followed up, his tone lighter but no less cutting. “If you think a guy who calls her ‘boss’ is her secret lover, you’ve been reading too much fanfiction.”

Laughter filled the room, yet the tension remained palpable.

The mood shifted when a reporter’s voice rose, trembling with outrage. “What about the threats against your wife? The internet trolls commenting about raping her, calling her a sex addict for being married to two men, and those posting pornography of her? Are those real? What’s your response?”

The room fell silent. Nanami’s jaw clenched. Gojo’s smirk vanished, replaced by a chilling calm.

“No, they are not! And to the trolls hiding behind screens,” Gojo began, his voice dangerously soft, “if you think we’ll sit back while you spew your filth, you’re sorely mistaken. We’re tracking every one of you. Every threat, every disgusting comment, every vile video. You’ll hear from our lawyers soon.”

Nanami’s voice was a low growl. “And if you think that’s the worst you’ll face, you’re even more foolish than I thought. Leave her out of this.”

Another reporter hesitated before asking, “What about those saying to burn her and your children alive?”

Higuruma stepped forward, his expression icy. “Any threats against their wife and children will be met with the full extent of the law. Consider this your only warning.”

Gojo leaned into the mic, his grin returning but lacking warmth. “You think you’re untouchable because you’re anonymous? Funny. You have no idea what untouchable really looks like.”

Nanami’s tone was final. “If you value your lives, stop. Now.”

From the back, the same muffled voice chimed in, again. “Are you compensating for something with all these threats?”

Nanami squinted to look through the flashing lights at the reporter who had the audacity.

Higuruma sighed audibly. “Who let them in?”

“What do you say to those who still think you’re unfit to be with her?”

Gojo’s grin was wide and dangerous. “Good thing, it’s not your job to decide.”

Nanami’s words were cold, final. “We protect what matters. That’s all you need to know.”

One asked Higuruma how he felt about his sudden “thirst-trap status” online. Another demanded Nanami share his skincare routine.

Higuruma’s eye twitched, and he stepped forward, effectively ending the conference. “That’s all for today. Any further inquiries can be directed to our legal team.”

As the trio exited, Gojo’s parting words rang out, laced with menace. “Remember, we’re always watching.”

Nanami’s gaze swept over the room, cold and calculating. “Make better choices.”

With that, they left, leaving behind a room full of reporters scrambling to dissect every word and a world more divided than ever. As they walked away, Haibara strolled back to your office in a trench coat, the source of all those ridiculous questions now clear. Yes, all the stupid inquiries directed at the husbands’ insecurities had come from him.

---

“Are you going to divorce us for Haibara?” After work, came an absurd email to your work ID from the Dumb and Dumber Association.

This time, you replied, “I’m not a cheater like you." And blocked them there too.

The automatic doors to the in-HQ supermarket slid open with a cheerful chime. You walked in flanked by your two overly dramatic bodyguards—Megumi, looking like a disgruntled celebrity in his baseball cap and sunglasses, and Haibara, who had pulled his hoodie so low he looked like a Sith Lord shopping for Death Star snacks.

You adjusted your own cap and mask, trying to channel “incognito trillionaire” vibes. Not that it helped. Everyone in this building already knew who you were.

This wasn’t your usual scene. Trillionaire CEOs didn’t typically go grocery shopping. But after this morning’s helicopter fuel argument—where you’d learned that jet-grade kerosene was somehow not a justifyable expense for a snack run—you needed to stretch your legs. And, frankly, the craving for chocolate-dipped pretzels was not something you could ignore.

The brightly lit aisles stretched before you like a sugar-coated playground. Your eyes lit up the moment you spotted the snack aisle.

“Oh my god, look!” you whispered excitedly, clutching Haibara’s arm like you’d just found buried treasure. You pointed at a shelf stacked with chocolate-dipped pretzels. “They’re calling to me.”

Haibara, the chaos enabler, grabbed three bags without hesitation and dumped them into the cart. “We’ll take them all, just in case.”

Megumi, the self-designated killjoy, intercepted like a referee. “Absolutely not.” He plucked one bag out of the cart, flipping it over to scrutinize the label like it contained state secrets. “Artificial colouring, processed sugar, and—wait—is this aspartame? Are you trying to poison her?”

“It’s chocolate, not crystal meth,” Haibara replied, deadpan. “Relax.”

“I am relaxed,” Megumi snapped, tossing the bag back onto the shelf with enough force to make it bounce. “But if she eats this and it harms the babies, you will be held responsible.”

You rolled your eyes, reaching for the pretzels again. “Megumi, it’s one bag. I’m not eating an entire factory.”

“Not on my watch,” he muttered, grabbing the cart and steering it toward the produce section like an overzealous soccer mom.

“Traitor!” you called after him, snatching a smaller basket and turning to Haibara, who was already eyeing the next aisle like you and him shared the same brain cell.

“Alright,” Haibara said, his grin audible despite the hood. “What’s next?”

You scanned the shelves, your eyes landing on a box of brightly coloured fruit chews. “These.”

“Excellent choice,” Haibara declared, tossing two boxes into your basket without hesitation.

Megumi appeared from nowhere, like the ghost of responsible decisions. He plucked the boxes back out with a sigh so heavy it could’ve powered the entire building. “You’re both children. Do you even read the labels?”

“They’re fruit chews, not nuclear waste,” Haibara shot back, grabbing the boxes again and chucking them into your basket with an air of defiance.

“Haibara, if you keep enabling her, I will ban you from this grocery trip,” Megumi warned, his tone colder than a Siberian winter.

“You can try,” Haibara said smugly, tossing a bag of caramel popcorn into the basket for good measure. “But unlike you, I’m an actual employee in this HQ. You? You’re just an honorary guest with no snack-related jurisdiction.”

Megumi groaned, rubbing his temples like a man on the brink of a breakdown. “Why am I even here?”

“To make sure I don’t die from eating a candy bar,” you deadpanned, grabbing a box of frosted cookies from a nearby shelf and tossing it into the basket.

“Put that back,” Megumi said immediately.

“No,” you replied, already scanning the shelves for your next target.

“Put it back,” he repeated, his voice teetering on the edge of despair.

“Make me,” you shot back, grinning under your mask.

Haibara leaned casually against the cart, arms crossed, watching the two of you like it was the best show he’d seen all week. “This is better than TV,” he said, grabbing a bag of sour gummies just to see what Megumi would do.

Megumi stared at him, visibly debating whether it was worth it to keep arguing or just let the bedlam unfold. Ultimately, he chose the latter, as he trailed behind you and Haibara, who were now gleefully raiding the snack aisle like it was Black Friday.

Somewhere, a cashier sighed.

Five minutes later in the dairy section. “Can I have this?” you asked, holding up a tub of cookie dough ice cream.

“No,” Megumi said.

“Yes,” Haibara countered, grabbing the tub and dropping it into the cart.

“Do you know how much saturated fat is in this?” Megumi groaned again, pulling the tub back out and glaring at the ingredients.

“Do you know how much serotonin is in it?” You shot back, snatching the tub and cradling it protectively.

Megumi sighed deeply, muttering something about “ungrateful trillionaires” and “irresponsible enablers” as he stalked off toward the bakery section.

By the time you reached the checkout, your cart was a cluttered mix of fruit, veggies, and an absurd amount of snacks. Megumi was furiously double-checking every item, arguing with the cashier over the preservatives in the granola bars.

“These are organic,” the cashier said patiently.

“They’re fake organic,” Megumi replied, narrowing his eyes at the label.

“Sir, that’s not a thing,” the cashier deadpanned.

Meanwhile, Haibara was busy adding a family-size pack of lollipops to the conveyor belt. “This is for stress. Specifically, mine,” he declared, as if he were stocking up for an impending candy apocalypse.

You leaned against the cart, nibbling on an open bag of trail mix. “Are we done yet?”

Megumi turned to you, exasperated. “Not until I’m sure you’re not eating something that’ll turn your children into glowing aliens.”

“Honestly, glowing aliens sound cooler than those two’s bloodline,” Haibara quipped, earning a glare from Megumi that could have melted steel.

“Are we done yet?” You asked again, already eyeing Haibara’s lollipops.

“No! I will put my foot down here! Get your own!” Haibara looked ready to sprint away with the carton, clutching it like it was the last lifeboat on the Titanic.

“Are we done yet?” You asked Megumi again, your patience wearing thinner than the bag of chips Haibara was eyeing.

“Let me pay,” Megumi sighed, resigned to his fate.

“Oh, it’s within Madam’s monthly credit. So it’s on the house,” the cashier chimed in, clearly amused.

“That much?” Megumi asked, his confusion evident as he stared at the total and the pickup truck-worthy amount of food you’d bought, like a math problem he couldn’t solve.

“Yes, the grocery or snack amount for employees is quite generous here,” the cashier explained, trying to keep a straight face.

“Are we done yet?” You asked yet again.

Megumi was officially done with you.

By the time you left the store, your arms were loaded with snacks, Megumi looked ready to collapse under the weight of your choices, and Haibara was already tearing into a bag of chips like he was preparing for a competitive eating contest.

---

The night was your accomplice, and Tokyo was your playground. Mask? Check. Scarf? Check. Cap? Angled so perfectly you could pass as an undercover K-drama celeb—or at least someone who really didn’t want to run into their ex. The streets hummed with the quiet energy of late-night Tokyo, neon lights casting kaleidoscopic patterns on the wet pavement. For once, you were gloriously, blissfully alone. No Megumi’s guards lurking in the shadows, no overly attentive husbands tracking your every move, and not even the pigeons—Haibara had probably trained to keep an eye on you, presumably on union-mandated breaks.

Your disguise was impeccable. Unassailable. The kind of look that screamed, I am absolutely not suspicious, but also, please don’t notice me, Senpei. You strode with the confidence of a Fortune 500 CEO and the finesse of someone who had absolutely Googled "how to sneak out without looking like you’re sneaking out." Tonight, you weren’t the trillionaire tech mogul, the powerhouse boss, or the supernatural anomaly. Tonight, you were a woman on a singular, sacred mission: KitKats.

The convenience store loomed ahead, glowing like the gates of paradise. Its fluorescent lights bathed the sidewalk in an otherworldly hue, promising flavours you didn’t need but unequivocally deserved. As you crossed the threshold, the automatic doors whooshed open.

The sweet, cloying aroma of sugar hit you like a warm hug. Shelves upon shelves of KitKat stretched out before you in a glorious display of indulgence. Matcha. Yuzu. Sweet potato. Melon. Cheesecake. Even wasabi. Wasabi?! You paused, eyeing the green and white package. Who buys these? Psychopaths, probably. Naturally, you grabbed a box—strictly for research purposes.

“Alright, twins,” you whispered conspiratorially, your hand brushing over your bump. “What are we thinking?”

A soft, decisive kick answered, guiding your gaze to a box of roasted chestnut-flavored KitKats. “Excellent choice,” you murmured, tossing it into your basket.

The strawberry milk Kitkats caught your eye next. “I know, I know,” you said, feeling another gentle nudge. “You’re just like your dad. Sweet tooth for days.”

You wandered deeper, basket filled quickly—Peach parfait? A must. Deep Matcha? Classic. Cookies and cream? Iconic. The Sakura Sake-flavored ones? Let’s be honest, the twins didn’t need to know everything. “Don’t worry,” you assured your unborn audience. “We’ll pace ourselves. Moderation is key.” A nudge from your left side suggested they didn’t believe you.

By the time you reached the counter, your basket looked like the aftermath of a chocoholic apocalypse. The cashier, a sleepy-eyed teenager with purple-streaked hair, scanned your items with the kind of speed that said they were mentally counting down the minutes to their break.

“That’s a lot of KitKats,” they said, raising an eyebrow.

You tilted your head, considering your response. “Fuel for world domination,” you said finally, handing over the cash with an air of practiced nonchalance.

The cashier paused, blinked, and then wisely decided not to engage further.

Bag in hand, you stepped back into the cool night air, your spoils swinging triumphantly at your side. The city had quieted, its hum softened to a gentle murmur of distant cars and occasional footsteps. For the first time in weeks, you felt almost... normal. Just a person in the stillness of Tokyo, chatting with their unborn kids about the finer points of yuzu-flavored chocolate.

As you walked, a thought struck you. You glanced down at your bag and sighed. “We forgot the white chocolate ones,” you muttered. Another nudge, sharper this time. “Fine, fine,” you relented, turning back toward the store. “But this is the last stop. Seriously.”

Once you got them, you wasted no time tearing one open. The wrapper crinkled loudly as you shoved the bar into your mouth, savoring the sweet relief.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” You murmured, patting your growing belly. “Just us. No guards. No drama. No—”

A soft, plaintive cry interrupted your monologue.

You froze, ears straining to locate the source. The sound came again, faint and wavering, from the shadowy alley to your left. Your eyes narrowed as you peered into the darkness, the dim streetlights doing little to illuminate the narrow passage.

“Hello?” You called softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

The cry repeated, a high-pitched whimper that tugged at your heartstrings. Against your better judgment—because let’s face it, this could very well be how horror movies started—you edged closer. Your hand instinctively rested on your bump as you moved, a silent reassurance to your unborn twins that you had this under control. Probably.

As you neared the source of the sound, your gaze landed on a small, trembling shape. A baby raccoon, its fur matted and dull, was hunched over with a plastic bag twisted tightly around its neck. The poor thing was struggling to breathe, its tiny chest heaving with effort.

“Oh no,” you breathed, your heart clenching.

You knelt as best you could, which was no small feat given that you were nearly six months pregnant with twins. The maneuver was awkward, and your knees protested loudly, but you managed to get low enough to see the little creature more clearly. The raccoon hissed weakly as you reached out, its small body trembling with fear.

“It’s okay, little baby,” you cooed, lowering your mask and smiling softly to show you meant no harm. “I’m not going to hurt you. Where’s your mom?”

The raccoon’s dark, glassy eyes stared back at you, unblinking and filled with an innocence that broke your heart. As you scanned the area, your stomach sank when your eyes landed on a larger shape nearby. The raccoon’s mother lay lifeless a few feet away, her body curled against the cold, unmoving. She hadn’t made it through the night.

The baby whimpered again, unmoving but clearly struggling. Every instinct screamed at you to help, despite the little voice in your head reminding you that interacting with wild animals wasn’t exactly advised. But you couldn’t leave it here. It wouldn’t survive the night alone, and calling an NGO would take too long.

“It’s okay,” you murmured again, keeping your voice soft and steady. You reached into your bag and pulled out the least harmful KitKat flavor you could find—probably the roasted hazelnut one. Not ideal, but better than nothing. Tearing off the wrapper and breaking off a piece, you held it out to the baby, keeping your movements slow and careful.

The raccoon sniffed the air hesitantly, its tiny nose twitching. After what felt like an eternity, it inched closer, snatching the chocolate from your hand and nibbling cautiously. You took the opportunity to edge closer, your hands trembling slightly as you reached for the plastic bag around its neck.

At home, Gojo was sprawled on the couch, eyes more like six were trained on your location via his limitless technique. He grinned to himself, watching your progress with unrestrained amusement.

“Stop doing that,” Nanami snapped, his tone clipped. “You look creepy.”

“She’s saving an animal,” Gojo replied, conveniently omitting the part where said animal was a raccoon. Nanami didn’t need that stress tonight—he’d probably hyperventilate and insist on dragging Gojo to retrieve you, which would only result in you getting pissed off again.

“Come eat dinner,” Nanami said after a long sigh, giving Gojo a pointed look. Reluctantly, Gojo let his technique fade and followed him to the table, his stomach reminding him he hadn’t eaten in hours.

Back in the alley, you finally managed to untangle the plastic bag from the baby raccoon’s neck. It stared at you for a moment before surprising you by burrowing into your hand, seeking warmth. Your heart melted on the spot.

“It’s okay, little one,” you whispered, gently scooping it up and tucking it into your inner coat pocket. The raccoon relaxed against you, its tiny body curling into the soft fabric. You stroked its head lightly, murmuring reassurances as you stood—slowly, carefully, because crouching was one thing, but getting up while pregnant with twins was another battle entirely.

Before leaving, you glanced at the raccoon’s mother. A lump formed in your throat as you absently ran a hand over your belly. Pulling out your phone, you quickly texted the local authorities, requesting a burial and, if permitted, some flowers. It wasn’t much, but it felt like the right thing to do.

As you stepped out of the alley, the city lights seemed a little brighter, the night air a little less cold. The baby raccoon purred against your heart, letting out a soft sound of contentment.

“How are you this friendly?” You wondered aloud, smiling down at the little creature. It didn’t answer, of course, but its trust felt like a small miracle in itself.

Then it started subtly—a few glances, hushed murmurs. You didn’t think much of it at first. After all, you were well disguised. But as you quickened your pace, the whispers followed, multiplying, growing sharper.

Behind you, hurried footsteps echoed. A man’s voice broke through the growing din:

“Is that her?!”

Your heart plunged, freezing your steps.

Before you could process what was happening, a hand yanked at your scarf, pulling it loose. Panic surged through you as the cold air hit your exposed face like a slap. Your mask—you’d forgotten to put it back on after dealing with the raccoon.

“Oh my god, it’s her!”

Then came the noise. Shouting. Jeering. The kind of unfiltered rage that burrowed deep into your bones.

You stumbled backwards, instinctively clutching the squirming raccoon baby inside and your own belly. The twins inside you kicked like they used to before, mirroring your panic as if they, too, wanted to escape.

A crowd was forming. Phones appeared like weapons, their flashes blinding you. The whispers turned to accusations.

“Hey, isn’t she the one whoring for those terrorists?”

“What’s she doing out here? Slumming it with us peasants?”

“She’s buying KitKats? Seriously?”

Your breath came in shallow bursts. You tried to pull your scarf back up, trembling fingers betraying you. The voices sharpened, venom dripping from every word.

“She thinks she’s untouchable.”

“Bet her coward husbands send her out for this crap.”

“She’s carrying their freak kids! Like we need more of them in the world.”

The words struck like stones. Your legs felt like lead, every step an agonizing effort.

“Maybe she needs to learn her place,” someone snarled.

Panic flared in your chest, clawing at your lungs, making it impossible to breathe.

The shouts blurred together, a cacophony of rage. You clutched your bag of KitKats tighter to your chest, shielding your belly. Your trembling fingers dialed Haibara’s number.

He picked up on the first ring. “What’s up, cookie?”

You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat. Your breathing was erratic, panic suffocating you.

“Hey! What happened?” Haibara’s tone sharpened; all business now.

“P…” Your voice trembled, each breath a struggle as your lungs fought against the tightening grip of panic.

“Where are you? Are those morons with you? Never mind—I’ve got your location. I’m coming,” he said, voice steely.

In the background, you heard Megumi’s voice. “Guards can’t find her, but the idiots are at home. We need to crack some skulls.”

“I know,” Haibara replied, already on the move. “She’s on call with me.”

“Do I need to bring a doctor? Just make a sound if you can’t talk,” Haibara urged, concern lacing his voice.

“Pl… Please come, Hai. They… they’re goin… hurt. I’m… scared. I can’t… be..breathe. P-Panic… attack,” you gasped, each word a battle against the suffocating anxiety.

Haibara’s jaw tightened audibly through the line. “Don’t exert yourself. Try to get to a less crowded area. Stay on the call. We’re coming, and whoever’s there won’t live to see another hour.”

You heard Megumi barking orders to the guards to follow as his own car engine roared to life.

Haibara’s voice softened, but the resolve beneath it was unyielding. “Just hang on, cookie. I’ve got you.”

“Please… I’m scared…” you whispered, struggling to keep your voice steady.

Hope flickered faintly through the suffocating dread as you clung to the sound of Haibara’s voice, each word pulling you closer to safety.

Just then, someone snatched your phone from your hand and hurled it across the street. It hit the asphalt with a sharp crack, shattering as a passing car crushed it beneath its wheels.

Your heart sank. Haibara couldn’t track you now. You were on your own.

Panic threatened to overtake you, but you straightened, clutching your stomach protectively and tucking the squirming raccoon baby deeper into the warmth of your coat pocket.

Three lives depended on you. You had to stay strong.

Lifting your chin, you spoke firmly, your voice steady despite the terror clawing at your throat. “Please…, I… I’m not… distur…bing anyone. Just let me… go home. I’m pregnant…this isn’t good...”

“Pregnant?” A man sneered, his lip curling in disgust. “You’re ruining our children’s minds and expect us to care about your worms?”

Another voice chimed in, shrill and hateful. “Why is she even out here? Spreading her unnatural ways in a well-cultured society?”

The first blow wasn’t physical. A half-full can of soda hurtled through the air, slamming into your back. The sticky liquid soaked through your coat, its coldness jolting you. You flinched but kept moving, one hand cradling your stomach, the other gripping your coat where the raccoon baby squirmed, sensing your distress.

“Go back to your country and take your disgusting ways with you!”

“Whore!”

“She thinks she’s better than us because she’s rich. Let’s see how far her money gets her now.”

The words hit like stones, each one stripping away your resolve. Someone threw a half-empty beer bottle. It shattered inches from your head, shards of glass raining down. Another stepped closer, leering, his eyes gleaming with malice.

“Ple..ase,” you said again, voice trembling but determined. “I’m… not here to bother… anyone. I just want… t…home.”

“Home?” A woman spat at your feet. “You don’t have a home here, whore.”

The crowd surged forward, a wall of hostility closing in. A hand grabbed your bag and yanked it violently, the strap digging into your shoulder before snapping. The contents spilled onto the ground, KitKats scattering like fragile little lifelines, crushed under trampling feet.

Panic clawed at your throat. The circle around you tightened, the air thick with anger and cruelty. Someone yanked your scarf again, exposing more of your face. Another shoved you hard enough to stumble, your balance precarious as you tried to shield your stomach.

“She thinks she’s better than men because she has money,” a man sneered, his breath reeking of stale beer. His grin was wolfish, predatory. “Maybe she needs to learn her place.”

Terror coursed through you as a hand latched onto your wrist, squeezing hard enough to bruise. You twisted, trying to pull away, but fear rooted you in place.

“D…Don’t touch… me,” you said, lungs not cooperating.

Your plea only seemed to embolden them.

“Burn her!” someone screamed. “She’s a disease, a stain on this city!”

Hands reached for you from all directions. One grabbed your scarf and yanked it free, sending your hair tumbling loose. Another tangled in your coat, tugging it open, the raccoon baby letting out a panicked squeak.

The world blurred as you stumbled backward, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps.

“She thinks she’s untouchable,” a voice growled, so close you felt the heat of their breath.

“She needs to learn her place,” another hissed.

Then came the first slap. It landed across your cheek with a crack, your head snapping to the side. Pain bloomed hot and sharp, tears springing to your eyes.

Your knees buckled, but before you could fall, another hand tangled in your hair, yanking your head back. You were forced to meet their eyes—faces twisted with hatred, lips curling into sneers.

“Beg,” someone demanded, their voice dripping with venom. “Beg for forgiveness for corrupting our children.”

You shook your head weakly, lips trembling. “Please,” you whispered, barely audible.

The crowd erupted into jeers, their rage boiling over. Another hand grabbed at your arm, another at your coat, exposing your vulnerable, shaking frame. You tried to shield your stomach, your precious twins, the raccoon baby pressed tightly against your ribs, but the blows were coming now—sharp jabs to your back, your arms.

Tears blurred your vision as the mob surged closer, their intentions unmistakable. The world spun, collapsing into chaos. Somewhere in the distance, Haibara’s voice echoed in your memory, a lifeline you couldn’t reach.

And yet, through the fear and the pain, you clung to one thought: You had to survive. For them. For all of them.

The world had dissolved into a blur of clawing hands, jeering voices, and sharp, biting pain. All you could do was clutch your stomach, your arms wrapped tightly around the fragile lives within you as if your trembling body alone could shield them from the onslaught.

They didn’t care.

Hands tore at your coat, nails raking your skin like talons. Someone yanked at your hair, the sharp pain barely registering through the sheer terror flooding your senses.

Then came the first kick.

It landed square in your side—a brutal, calculated blow that drove the air from your lungs. You fell to the ground, instinctively curling around your belly as the mob closed in like vultures.

“Don’t ruin the face. She must be good in bed if she managed to grab two husbands.”

The jeers turned darker, uglier.

“Maybe we can do a favor by helping you lose those bastard children,” someone sneered, their voice dripping with venom. “Do the world a favor.”

Another kick followed, then another. The pain radiated through your body, sharp and unforgiving, but it was nothing compared to the icy terror gripping your soul.

You couldn’t scream. You couldn’t fight.

You were back to being that scared six-year-old again. Frozen.

All you could do was lie there, trembling, as their laughter blurred into a cacophony of hate.

A/N: Alright, so what should we name the baby raccoon? Because apparently, PussyKiller9000 was already taken (tragedy of the century). Accepting all suggestions, but if you say "Bandit," I will personally haunt your dreams. Also, this chapter was a meme goldmine, & if anyone wants to bless the world with fanart, memes, or even a cursed stick figure, I will reblog, worship, and possibly frame it IRL. Bonus points if it captures: The Great Pancake Heist™ Haibara’s baguette duel with the media Megumi fighting for his life in the snack aisle Gojo glitching out of reality mid-sentence Nanami realizing he married into chaos

Next chapter will be out on idk :P

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Taglist Open.

[gardentool]

Gojo: Can I help you?

Nanami: Probably not.

Gojo: What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

Nanami: It means whatever the fuck you want it to mean.

[nanpecan]

nanami doodles>>>

occasionally i remember he was only 27 and i get really sad...

[gojosprettyprincess]

Sometimes Nanami would “accidentally” leave his packed lunch at home just so his beautiful, angel of a wife delivers it to him at his workplace and show up in your cute little sundress that always looks so lovely and flattering on you. He adores you so much— he always enjoyed showing you off and letting all his coworkers see how gracefully gorgeous the woman he married is.

But it always ends up with you being bent over his work desk with your floral dress all hiked up around your waist while he’s on his knees, nose-deep into your gushy, cum filled cunt that he just stuffed his big morning load in not even three hours ago before he left for work, greedily eating it out your overflowing pussy while your soft tits are spilling out of the dress, wrinkling all the important papers and documents that needs to be filled out by him.

“You’re such a good girl darlin’, always obeying and doing whatever I say. God what did I do to deserve a wonderful wife like you” he mumbled against your drooling core. His warm breath tickling your exposed pussy as he placed an affectionate kiss on your puffy clit. His whole mouth is decorated with strings of the mixed cum that he skillfully licked out of you a moment ago.

Of course, he carried a weightful amount of guilty for making you drive all the way here, just for him to do something so inappropriate and lewd but the way your little pussy would get so uncontrollably soaked and loud while he’s tonguing your tight hole— there’s no way you don’t enjoy it as much as he does.

He might as well ask you to serve your pretty pussy on a silver platter because that’s the lunch he’s always so desperate and hungry to be having.