#Kento and Haitch

[pseudowho]

"--need to go--" kiss "--just for a minute, let me--" kiss "--go to the bathroom, I--" kiss "--god, you're a menace, I'll lift you onto this counter, and you'll stay there until I get back--" giggle, kiss.

You whispered filthy whispers against Kento's lips, playfully dragging him back to you by the collar each time he tried to release himself.

Half-huff, and half-kiss, he grumbled and spun you around as you laughed, gripping your hands behind your back and pressing you forwards against the counter.

"--unhand me, wife, or I'll tie you up--"

"--don't threaten me with a good time, Kento--"

"--truly-- truly incorrigible woman--"

You laughed again, arching back against him, and pressing his cock into the crease of your barely-covered arse until he moaned; in annoyance, or lust? You weren't sure. Perhaps both. You had the bit between your teeth.

Kento wouldn't put up with your shenanigans for much longer. He slapped your arse, jiggling it with a growl, and dashed past your swiping hands to the bathroom. You whined, then sighed to the sound of his victory chuckle, the bathroom door clicking closed behind him.

Silence-- for 30 seconds. A minute. Two minutes. Three. You called out, smirking.

"Doesn't take that long to pee, Ken--"

The bathroom door clicked open. A low, mulish grumble sounded from within.

"I...can't go."

You frowned, stifling a laugh. "What?"

"I can't go. I'm too hard. I...can't pee."

Bursting out into laughter was your downfall, and it broke down into panicked squeals as Kento stomped out of the bathroom after you, his lap tightly tented over his cock.

He tossed you onto the sofa, dragging you back by the legs when you tried to wriggle and escape, and pinning you beneath him with nuzzled growls to your throat.

"--thorn in my side-- too erect to piss, and other problems my wife causes--"

"--oh, no, whatever can we do to fix this--"

"--you're talking too much and wearing too many clothes, as usual-- come back here-- certainly one thing we can do to fix this, madam--"

[kentofic]

Eyes on me - Nanami Kento x f!reader

absolute pwp 18+ MDNI — cw: dry humping, oral, overstimulation, praise, throat fucking, a needy brat of a reader, and just all around self-indulgent filth

Fuck the euphemisms and the beating around the bush. You’re horny. You’ve been clenching your thighs all day at work. You’ve been indulging in dirty daydreams that always end in you bent over a desk. You’ve been doing kegels just to feel something.

But Kento is holed up in his office, ignoring you.

You pace back and forth in front of the door to his home office. You figure you should leave him be. He already hates overtime, and he’s probably in a rotten mood. But you’ve had such a long day, and you’re so wound up now, you won’t get through even the coldest shower without breaking and touching yourself. And to be fair, you’re usually fine with touching yourself. But right now, you need to be touched by him.

“I can hear you clomping around out there.”

You stop in your tracks, grimacing. You hear Kento sigh before he says, “You can come in.”

You open the door a sliver and peek in to see Kento with his head propped up in one hand, the other poised over a pile of documents. Still working, as you thought. And a full hour past quitting time, which explains why his brow is pinched with annoyance.

“What do you need, sweetheart?” he asks, eyes locked on yours.

“I was, uh…lonely. Just wanted to see you,” you grin sheepishly, stepping into the room and closing the door behind you. He says nothing for a moment, just looks you over with those sharp, observant eyes. Those eyes that burn through you, pooling molten warmth in your gut. You fidget under the weight of his gaze and squeeze your thighs together, trying not to look as desperate as you feel.

“Hmm,” Kento murmurs, sitting back in his chair with a wry smile. “Lonely isn’t the word I would use.”

You stiffen, crossing your arms over your chest. He’s right, but hey. “Well, what word would you use then?” you huff, bottom lip poked out in a pout. He smirks.

“Needy.”

You splutter for a moment, caught. You try to explain it away, tripping over your words, while Kento observes you with an amused smile.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he interrupts you once he’s had his fill of your stammering, eyes glittering with mirth. He pats his thighs, his slacks stretched deliciously taut over the thick muscle. “Come here.”

Your heart swells, embarrassment forgotten. You rush over with the intent of clambering into his lap. He stops you for a moment, holding you at arm’s length as he smooths your hair out of your face. You’re so pent up that even that innocent action makes you want to whimper. But his smile has tempered back to a serious expression, so you bite back your desperation and try to show him you’re listening.

“I need to get these papers sorted tonight,” he says. You frown, and he sighs. “I know, I don’t want to do them either, but they need to get done. It shouldn’t take long. If you can be good and occupy yourself until I’m finished, then…”

He trails off for a moment, grazing his thumb over your bottom lip. Your nerves buzz at the short, tender contact. “Then I’ll take care of you. Understood?”

Heat unfurls at the base of your stomach. “Understood,” you salute, overeager. He chuckles.

Kento leans back to make room for you. You settle yourself in his lap, facing him, hooking your legs over his hips and pressing yourself to his broad, warm chest. He’s so tall, it’s easy enough for him to hook his head over your shoulder and keep working. You press your face into his shoulder and breathe in the fresh, familiar scent of his aftershave. You should feel calm, content, like you often do when he holds you like this. Instead you just feel even more hot and bothered, and you can’t help but want to fidget and find some friction against him.

Kento said to be good. But he also said you could occupy yourself. And then he let you climb onto his lap. So, really, hasn’t he given you permission to occupy yourself… using his lap?

A little rub wouldn’t hurt, you reason. It might help ease the sharp burn of desire between your legs—reduce the tension that has you all strung out. He already knows that you’re all worked up. You’re just taking care of yourself until he can do it for you. Yeah, you think, a little rubbing would be fine.

You shuffle your hips against him experimentally, holding your breath for a reaction. Kento does shut down your bratty antics from time to time. But he doesn’t stir, doesn’t chide you, just keeps scratching away at whatever documents he’s tending to. You shift your hips down again, more deliberately—it can’t be mistaken for repositioning. Still, he says nothing. So you shift forward again, and this time you fully grind down with the pressure you need. The friction is delicious, and a little moan bubbles up from your throat.

You feel Kento’s hand come up to grasp the back of your neck, his thumb rubbing against the sensitive spot under your ear. You freeze, a pleasant shiver running through you. He hasn’t scolded you, but his gentle grip on your neck makes you feel like he wants you to ask.

“Kento,” you mumble into his shoulder, “…Is this okay?”

“Is what okay, my love?” he replies, seemingly indifferent—as if his warm hand isn’t smoothing down the length of your back before stopping to grasp at the soft flesh of your hip. You let out a shaky breath as you shudder.

“…R-Rubbing myself on you? While I wait,” you say in a soft rush of air. You press your face into his neck, cheeks prickling with warmth.

Kento lets out a slow, measured exhale and squeezes your hip. He chuckles, the sound low and rumbling and so obviously pleased.

“Do as you like, sweetheart.”

You hear him pick up his pen again, but his non dominant hand keeps a firm grip on your hip. You feel his promise to take care of you seared into you with each pad of his fingers.

You start grinding down on him again, building a rhythm. It feels so good— the pressure and friction and warmth of him against you, even through layers of fabric. You feel him start to harden beneath you, and you smile to yourself. Even if his mind is occupied with silly paperwork, Kento’s body belongs to you and only you.

A wicked little idea starts to take form in your mind.

You let soft, deliberate sounds of pleasure spill from your lips as you grind into Kento’s steadily growing erection. You pant as you rock against him, fanning warm breath across his neck with each exhale, your lips just barely brushing his skin. You relish in how your usually unflappable lover stiffens, your soft lips and sweet little sounds curling a shudder down his spine. You don’t push it too far—you agreed to be good after all. But you dance up to the line, feeling equal parts giddy and greedy.

Emboldened by Kento’s small reactions, you slowly swirl your hips the way you know he loves, and you let out a breathy sigh of his name. You feel the muscles of his neck tense, and he clears his throat. You think he might finally chide you, but he doesn’t. Wordlessly, he reaches between you to readjust his cock so it isn’t pinned to the side as it strains against his slacks. He aligns it vertically, his flushed tip peeking out from his waistband. You grin widely, having won your prize. You’re not the only one who’s needy now.

You press down against him, rutting your clothed cunt against the underside of his cock. His breath hitches as the soft material of your shorts catches against his sensitive tip, and you know soon it’ll be smeared with precum. You rock against him with a fervor now, trying to shift your hips at a better angle each time, pitching your pelvis forward to try and catch more of your clit on each down and upward motion. Trying to get more of that delicious friction that’s pooling wetness in your panties. But even as you pant softly into his shoulder and work yourself against him, you know it won’t be enough.

It’s all Kento’s fault. Before you met him, an orgasm was a simple delight that your own fingers could give you with ease. But now your body knows him. It knows how he feels pressed deep into you, snug against your cervix, filling you up completely. It knows the true depths of pleasure that you’re capable of feeling only when he’s inside you. Even if he hasn’t left any lasting marks, Kento has engraved himself into your body.

You need him to fill you. And right now, you’re warm and wet, but so empty.

You whimper, rocking yourself faster, more desperately. It feels good—really good—but the more you try to chase that goodness to an orgasm, the quicker it seems to slip away. You’re riding a wave that refuses to crest and crash down—it just undulates over and over. You screw your eyes shut, trying to focus on that small flame inside you, trying to get it to burn just a little bit brighter.

Then all of a sudden, Kento’s other hand is sinking into your hip and he’s griiinding up into you with so much pressure that you gasp.

“Not enough, is it?” Kento says, his voice husky and strained.

You let out a sound halfway between a whimper and a sigh of relief. “Not enough. I need you,” you pant, your hips still bucking against his—chasing the heat of his reciprocating friction.

Without warning, Kento stands up, and you squeal as you lose balance on his lap. You lock your legs around his waist and throw your arms around his shoulders to avoid falling. He uses one arm to hold you up, and with the other hand he neatly gathers and tucks his documents into a drawer. With a soft grunt, he sits you down on his cleared desk.

You start to release your koala-like hold on him, only for him to pull you into a searing kiss that has you scrabbling at the nape of his neck for purchase. His tongue licks into your mouth with a force and precision that makes you moan. You kiss him back in earnest, your legs still locked around his waist, drawing him in as close as you can.

You both part, panting. Kento caresses your cheek with his thumb as he looks at you with those dark, lust-glazed eyes that say without words that he intends to devour you. Then he places a hand in the center of your chest and gently pushes you down on your back. You stare up at the light fixture, dizzied, as he lifts your legs from around his waist and scoots you further back onto the desk.

You gasp when you feel him lift your hips and remove your shorts and panties in a single, sharp tug. You’re bare to him now—the cool air making your wet folds feel icy cold. But only for a moment. Because then he presses that searing hot tongue to your core and oh. You can’t help but arch up into the sensation as the flat of his tongue slides through your folds, lapping up the mess you’ve made while waiting for him.

“Sweetheart.” You feel the affectionate name rumble against your sensitive folds. “You’re dripping. All this for me?”

“Y-yes—fuck, Kento,” you whimper as he dives in again, working his tongue into your sopping entrance before slowly licking back up to your clit. “I couldn’t wait—I need you, Kento, please—“

You’re cut off by your own moan as he seals his lips around your clit and sucks. Your hips lift off the desk to meet the hot, wet suction as best you can. He lets you press yourself into his mouth, sucking hungrily at the sensitive nub until your thighs are trembling. Then he releases your clit with a wet sound, and he works back into your soaking folds to taste you again, groaning softly as he slurps and swallows down your arousal.

That small flame you were chasing while grinding against him is now building into an all-consuming fire. You can feel the pulse of it deep in you as the sensation mounts, stronger and hotter. The pleasure Kento gives you is so intense and sudden after hours of restraining yourself, you feel your body starting to run away with the feeling—a freight train gaining speed, out of your control. You’re going to come if he doesn’t stop, and this isn’t how you want it, even as good as it is.

“Kento, gonna come,” you gasp out, clawing at the smooth surface of his desk. “Don’ wanna come—stop, stop, I don’t want to come yet—“

Kento lifts his mouth from you the moment you say stop, but he doesnt remove his face from between your legs. He peers up at you from there with those sharp eyes, half-lidded and dark. The visual alone could send you over the edge if you weren’t desperately trying to stave off your own orgasm.

“And why don’t you want to come yet?” he asks with suspicion—seemingly resentful that you pulled him away from such a delicious meal.

You swallow, trying to catch your breath. You know what you want, and embarrassment aside, you’re determined to have it.

“Wanna come on your cock,” you say softly.

It’s not just dirty talk, or a move to play up his ego. You need it. You’ve needed it all day—to come undone with him splitting you open, filling every inch of you.

The moment you make your request, Kento’s expression shifts, and for a second, your desperate desire is mirrored on his face. Then in a quick succession of motions, he’s standing up, undoing his belt, pulling his cock out of his pants, and yanking your hips towards him with such sharpness that you yelp.

“You’re so good, you know that?” he murmurs as he leans over you, one hand aligning his cock with your entrance. He cups your face, tilting it so you look into his eyes as he presses the blunt head against your opening. You whimper at the beginning of the stretch.

“So fucking good for me. So perfect,” he rasps, his eyes burning. “Asking for what you want like a good girl. You want to come on my cock? Then go ahead and come, sweetheart.”

He slams into you in one precise thrust that has you squealing at the sudden, blinding-hot stretch of it—the press of it into the deepest parts of you all at once. Even if you’ve had it a thousand times before, the way he fills you still hits you like a boulder. He thrusts once, twice, three times, each devastatingly deep, and you’re gasping for air as if he’s fucked all the breath out of you.

This. This is exactly what you needed. To be taken apart by him in the way only he can. You can’t contain the blaze that’s been built by your dry humping, and the wet heat of his tongue, and him, just him—the man that drives you wild just by sitting there and doing paperwork. Kento holds your gaze as he fucks into you, looking at you like you’re a treasure, like he wants to eat you alive, so utterly devoted that it makes your heart swell, and it’s too much. It’s all too much, in the very best way.

Everything locks down and the heat explodes. You cry out his name when you come, your body shuddering and writhing with the force of it. Kento stills his hips and lets you pulse and clench around him as it works, and you swear you only ever want to come with him inside of you—the fullness radiating pleasure into the deepest parts of you.

When you finally come down from your high, you’re still trembling, and Kento is smoothing your hair out of your face as he studies you. His expression is soft but dark in an indecipherable way.

When your lucid eyes find his, he asks, “Did that feel good, sweetheart?”

You nod weakly, and you feel his cock jump a little inside you. He smiles softly, tracing his thumb over the apple of your cheek.

“Mm, that’s good, love. Now give me another.”

Before you can process it, before you can open your mouth to protest, he’s drawing out of you and plunging back in with full force, and you scream.

Your brain and body are already fried from your first orgasm, haven’t had time to recalibrate—and he wants another. And he seems determined to take it from you.

Kento sets an unforgiving rhythm, pounding into you with deep precision, bottoming out every time he rolls his hips into yours. Every drag of his girth against your walls feels like it sprays off sparks of electricity, and you can’t help but try to curl back from him, trying to escape the intensity of the feeling. Your recoiling is met with a firm grip on your neck—not enough to truly choke you, but enough to keep you from scrambling away.

“No running,” he says in a warning tone, snapping his hips forward with each deep thrust, never slowing his pace.

“‘s too much,” you slur out. You’re trying not to run, you’re trying your best to take it, but it’s so hard when every stroke feels so white hot.

“You can take it, sweetheart. Give me another, I know you can,” Kento coos—and you want to. There’s nothing you want more than to give Kento whatever he asks for, especially when he’s sweating and flushed and looking so in love as he thrusts into you.

“I’m trying, ‘m tryin’” you whine, hot tears starting to prickle in your eyes at the overstimulation.

“It’s okay, love, just let go. Let go and give me another,” Kento says, more softly now, moving his hand from your neck to cradle the side of your head. He presses a kiss to your forehead as he works deep in you. “You know what to say if you want me to stop.”

You shake your head, bottom lip trembling as the tears spill down your cheeks. “I wan’ to, I want to—but I can’t.”

“You can, and you will. You’re going to right now, love, I can feel it,” he says lowly, and oh. Oh. Oh fuck. He’s right.

Your body’s feedback to your brain must be delayed, because you don’t even feel your peak building until it’s suddenly there—looming over you, drawing your whole body up taut before crashing down like a tsunami. Your second orgasm blazes through you in an instant, and you let out a strangled cry as it takes you by surprise.

“Good girl, there it is,” Kento soothes as you writhe and sob through it. He finally slows his pace as you shudder and whimper and grab at his shirt to keep yourself grounded—trying to keep yourself from completely falling apart.

You lose focus of his face for a moment—your eyes must roll back, because you hear him say “Eyes on me, love” in that low, smooth voice of his. With some effort, Kento swims back into your vision—his expression a portrait of lust and reverence. If you weren’t in the throes of such miserable pleasure, you might notice how his hands are starting to shake, how his jaw is clenched, how his hips stutter as he slowly, slowly strokes in and out of you now—on the edge of losing control.

You gradually come down from your peak until you’re back on solid ground. You blink up at Kento, dazed, your head resting heavy against the hard wood of his desk. You devour the sight of him above you. He’s panting softly, a few strands loose from his usual slicked-back hair and now hanging into his eyes. His tie is loose and his dress shirt is rumpled from where you gripped it. An unkempt, sex-mussed Kento—the sight makes you throb, and you wonder how your body can still respond to him after coming twice.

At least his hips are still now, which is a small mercy for your blindingly sensitive cunt. You gaze up at him, eyes soft, as he wipes the tears from your cheeks with the pad of his thumb. You turn your head to catch his thumb in your mouth and suck it, and he lets out a low groan.

“Don’t do that unless you’re ready to give me one more, sweet girl,” he warns.

You promptly release the digit, which makes him laugh. He presses his thumb back between your lips and watches lovingly as you lave over it with your tongue then release it with a final, wet kiss. He can’t help but shudder a little, and you notice.

“Are you close?” you ask softly, and he nods.

“Don’t know if I can hold back. I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs, looking a little pained. You can see now the visible signs of his restraint, and it warms your heart that he’s worried about you. Even when he takes you beyond your limits, he’d never push you to the point of breaking.

“I don’t know if my pussy can take any more right now,” you admit, your thighs still trembling. “…But if you want, you can fuck my mouth,” you grin, your mouth watering at the thought.

Kento’s eyes widen, then darken, and a soft groan slips from his lips as he surges forward to kiss you.

“You dirty little thing,” he murmurs, nipping at your bottom lip before soothing over it with his tongue. “So good for me. Get on your knees.”

You scramble to comply, and Kento helps lever you up and off the desk so you can kneel at his feet. He grabs a cushion from his chair and leans down to slip it under your knees, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as he draws back to his full height. Your heart brims with affection at the simple sweetness of the action.

You look up at him with wide, adoring eyes, and press soft kisses to his thigh that make him shudder. His cock is hard and heavy between his legs, flushed and shining with your own wetness. You grab the base, testing the girth in your hands, and Kento lets out a soft, strangled sound.

“You really are close, huh?” you giggle, licking a stripe from base to tip, tasting yourself on his hot flesh.

He grits out a moan, squeezing his eyes shut as you take his swollen tip between your lips. You suck on him gently, circling your tongue around the head, and you feel him throb on your tongue in response. Kento’s hand finds its place in your hair, gripping firmly as he slowly rocks into your mouth. You open your jaw further and meet his shallow thrusts with eager bobs of your head, sucking greedily around him.

You love taking Kento in your mouth, if for no other reason than to drink in his reactions. The soft grunts and pants and groans you pull from him make you preen. You watch him through your eyelashes—the way his brow is knitted, his jaw slack and bottom lip trembling with restrained pleasure. You do your best to burn the image into your mind. Though there is one part of this gorgeous vision that could be improved. You pull off his cock with a wet sound and rest his throbbing shaft on your cheek as you squeeze the base with one hand.

“Eyes on me, Ken,” you grin, parroting his earlier words. The irony isn’t lost on Kento, who lets out a sound between a scoff and a chuckle. He dutifully opens his eyes and peeks down at you, his pupils blown wide with lust. When his eyes meet yours, he groans and turns his head away, his cock twitching against your cheek.

“I really won’t last if I look at you, sweetheart,” he says, his voice breaking with the effort to restrain himself.

“I don’t care if you last. I want to taste you already,” you grin. He huffs out a shaky breath as you rub his tip against your slick, swollen lips. “Fuck my mouth, Kento. I want you to come down my throat,” you urge him, your eyes burning into his.

His breath hitches, and you feel his hand tighten its grip in your hair. “…I can’t be gentle,” he warns you, eyes flaring and voice tight.

“Then don’t be,” you hum, smiling before kissing the tip of his cock. Kento’s hips twitch, and he groans.

“Fuck. I am going to ruin you,” he murmurs, cupping your jaw and rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip. “If you can’t take it, slap my leg. If you don’t, I won’t stop.”

A thrill runs through you, and you feel your pulse throb through your cunt. You nod, dizzied and giddy with the promise of Kento using your throat.

You slacken your jaw and place his tip on your tongue, then look up at him with expectant eyes—waiting for him to set the pace. He hisses a breath out through his teeth as he readjusts his grip in your hair—then he plunges his cock into the waiting heat of your throat.

You gag at the intrusion, but you do your best to open your throat, even as your body jerks as you choke around him. He sets an unforgiving pace, stuffing his cock down your tight, wet throat as you try diligently to take him—fresh tears burning in your eyes from the effort.

He moans as you take everything he gives you, his gaze fixed on the way your lips stretch around him—a slick mess of spit and precum clinging to his shaft and dripping down your chin as he fucks into your mouth. Tears are streaming down your cheeks now, but you don’t tap out—you just dig your fingers into Kento’s thighs, deliriously happy to choke around him if it’s for his pleasure.

“Fuck—sweetheart, you’re so fucking perfect—taking me so well, choking on me—gonna make me f-fucking come—“

Mindless praise spills from Kento’s lips like a prayer as he rocks into the wet heat of your mouth, his pleasure threatening to surge up and over the edge. You can sense how close he is now, and the thrill of it has your aching cunt throbbing again. Kento watches in amazement as you slither your hand between your thighs, rubbing haphazard circles around your clit as you gag on his cock.

You force your eyes open, tears clinging to your lashes as you look up at Kento, desperately wanting to see how he looks right now, so close to coming. You expect him to have his eyes squeezed shut with impending bliss, but you find he’s staring at you, mouth agape, gaze reverent and drunk from pleasure. And the moment your glassy, tear-filled eyes lock with his, he’s gone.

Kento comes with a choked sound, snapping a final deep thrust into your throat before stilling as his hot cum spurts down your throat.

You do your best to swallow it, but you can’t take it all. You pull off with a wet gasp, coughing and spluttering as you try not to choke on the cum coating your mouth and throat. Kento shudders through the aftershocks of his orgasm, transfixed by the sight of you gasping for air, thick strings of saliva and cum running down your chin and connecting your mouth to his cock. That heady mixture of spit and cum drips and splatters on your shirt, your thighs, the floor, as you cough and catch your breath.

Mind still hazy with pleasure, Kento fumbles around to help you. He digs through his drawers and finds a handkerchief. He kneels down, cups your jaw, and begins to wipe your wet mouth and chin. He cleans your face gently, dazed and murmuring praises—before you cut him off with a whine.

“‘M sorry, Kento,” you whimper, looking genuinely disappointed.

“For what, love? You were perfect,” he soothes, confusion knitting his brow. You meet his gaze with a frown.

“I wasted your cum. I really wanted to drink it,” you say glumly, staring at the mess of cum staining your shirt and your thighs.

A beat passes as Kento stares at you with amazement, then he huffs out an incredulous laugh. He pulls you to his chest, shaking with mirth, as he smooths a hand down your back. You melt into him, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Oh, sweetheart, that’s alright. There’s more where that came from.”

You feel his wet, spent cock stir against your thigh.

———

a/n: the first time i had multiple orgasms i thought i was gonna die. idk how you guys are surviving 3+ back to back 😭 anyways I’ve looked at this way too long—please take it away from me 💀

[anonimusunnoaniswriting]

Aftershock...

So, summing up my conversation with @nanamiscocksleeve

This is based on the phenomenon of all the Nanami wives seeking comfort in Hiromi immediately after the fucking Shibuya incident which we usually do not acknowledge.

And me listening to Halsey the other day.

𝘔𝘋𝘕𝘐 18+ 𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵

Hiromi Higuruma knows.

He knows that when your fingers tangle in his thick dark locks, you dream of them being soft and blonde.

He knows that every time he kisses you, and your head turns away, his lips don't quite feel right.

Every time he pushes into you, cock straining with need into your difficult cunt, your eyes screw shut. You never look at him. You never see him.

But, he wants you to feel good. So he lets you. Allowing you to shut your eyes and dream of the man you never even got to say goodbye to.

Now if I keep my eyes closed he looks just like you

You lie under him, eyes closed, weeping. Praying that you won't be left alone again, yet unable to look past the man who holds your heart in a vice-like grip

Now if I keep my eyes closed, he feels just like you

His hands cup your breasts, almost the same size as his.You can't help it, you compare. Harsher though, rougher. Desperation clinging to his fingertips and he kneads at your soft pliant flesh. Look at me. See me! I'm right here, please!

But you've been replaced | I'm face to face with someone new

But your eyes stay shut, and the moans and whimpers that fall from your lips are not made for him.

And Hiromi would cry, but you're already doing that. As a tear slips out the corner of your eye and sinks into the pillow. He can't help but sink into you. Kissing its trail, kissing your jaw, your neck, your chest.

Your tits in his hand he prays. Look at me.

Would've gave it all for you, cared for you | My lover, my life | Would've trade it all for you, there for you| So tell me how to move on

But you can't. You can't let go of the past of the man who owned you; mind, body, and soul. And you know it's unfair to the lawyer on top of you but you can't help but seek comfort in his touch‌,‌ his caress, his kiss, his cock.

They don't realize that I'm thinking about you | It's nothing new

But he does. Hiromi Higuruma knows. And he hopes that one day, you see him for who he is. Not as the replacement for another. Till then though, he will love you. And hold you. Just like you need.

[mrhaitch]

what *do* you think of nanami and higuruma as just.. characters at face value? without the connotation of... smut??

are you into jjk in the first place? 🤔

I've only seen the anime, so I don't have much of an opinion of Higurama and I'll have to focus on the rest of your question, which I'll answer in reverse order (you'll see why).

JJK is a story about how contemporary society exploits, abuses, and seemingly loathes youth and innocence - attempting to discard or hammer it out of the young at the earliest opportunity. As a society, it's a gerontocracy with older citizens gleefully flinging the young at every danger and threat with abandon. I often associate the quote below with the show:

"Men make their own history, but they do not make it as they please; they do not make it under self-selected circumstances, but under circumstances existing already, given and transmitted from the past. The tradition of all dead generations weighs like a nightmare on the brains of the living." - Karl Marx

That last bit is key and actually touches on something central to my own research and writing - how the actions of past generations can limit those of their descendants. Jujutsu society, especially if you look at the noble houses, only values those of the younger generations whose abilities and talents suit the demands and priorities of the elders - with all others discarded or excluded, such as Toji and Maki although they have very different reactions to that rejection.

Nanami is a window into, and a reaction to the gerontocratic order. My understanding is that he's the first sorcerer in his family, an automatic outsider, pushed further to the edges and even temporarily outside of Jujutsu society by the death of his friend. He lives outside of it for several years, and discovers a similar order to the world elsewhere - a cycle of exploitation and abuse. His return seems to be predicated on a refusal and a resistance to the very social order that killed his friend and stole his youth, fulfilling his role but modelling an alternative path where the next generations are valued and protected.

It costs him his life, in the end: he pushes back against the world, and it crushes him for it. I can see his death being a significant turning point for several central characters later on.

So what do I think of them as a character, as a person? Despite his insistence on rules and regulations, he's a frustrated idealist - one who is not at home in his own world, and knows full well that it will one day destroy him. There's a lot to like and respect there, and I often prefer characters who cleave to causes that seem hopeless - but recognise the importance of resistance and remaining true to their ideals, and shielding the vulnerable from institutional harm. Another quote (sorry, I'm an academic):

"You can fight all the devils and slay them, but if you're made hard at the days end then they win." - Brother Ali, Live and Let Go

I realise that's probably far more detail than you expected or even wanted, but this is what happens when I answer questions at 4:45am while entertaining my children.

[pseudowho]

Oh my. Delicious food.

Look I'm mad for Kento and I think we'd be a great match, truly...

...but I'm certain I could pull Higuruma Hiromi. Certain.

Can I have a Nanami or Higuruma "cheer up" moment please? Or both? 😭💞🪿🪿

yes, of course!

kento—ever the comforter—keeps the ingredients for your favorite meal on hand for these exact moments. he gives you the necessary space to be upset and parse through your emotions while he whips up something he knows will melt your stress and put a smile on your face!

hiromi is analytical—it comes with the territory of being an attorney. in his mind, the best way to pull you out of a funk is to distract you. his solution: your favorite board (or card) game. it’s even better if you can channel your frustration into a competitive edge! by the time the game is over, you’ve long forgotten your worries.

[pseudowho]

Bedlocked

On a University city trip, someone's got to share a hotel room with Nanami Kento, the class's misunderstood loner...and it's going to be you.

Warnings: College AU! Nanami Kento x Reader, double loss of virginity, "just one bed", heavy make-out, PIV creampie, dry humping, fingering, handjob, both reader and Nanami aged 19

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Nanami Kento wore the awkward bearing of a young man who was surprised by the man he was growing to be. Being uniquely in possession of those excellent traits which were overlooked by girls, but adored by women, he had outgrown himself, from personality to hair, and was unsure how to wear it. Not yet having grown the confidence to lean into his character, and own it, he had been written off by the girls in your class as sullen, boring, miserable-- a downer.

All the girls, that is, except for you. And this was how you found yourself to be sharing a hotel room with Kento, on your thesis research trip to Kyoto.

"--made a mistake with the bookings, we're several rooms short--"

'--well we can share a bed, that's fine, but I'm not sharing with him--"

"--I dunno...I don't think he'd try anything, I just...want to have fun, that's all, and he's a bit..."

You scoffed, pinching the bridge of your nose as the other young women spoke amongst themselves. Kento had not arrived, and yet, was the talk of the group. As the only young man in the class, he had maintained a respectful, professional distance from the young women in it. It had earned him what you thought was a rather undeserved reputation.

Where the others saw uptight, you saw diligence. Where they saw boring, you saw reserved. Where others saw sarcastic, you saw hilarious. Where they saw grumpy, you saw rage against the machine.

In truth, you had long-since harboured an obsession with Kento. His hushed intensity was magnetic, and carried a mass you longed to draw you in. While others saw you as opposites, you saw yourself and Kento as each others' perfect foil. Matching puzzle pieces. Each others' missing ingredient.

And, god, you ached for him, alone at night with your hand drifting downwards. And you would not let him be treated like a leper.

"For goodness' sake, I'll share with Kento." You piped up, seeing the other girls all look round at you. Their eyes drifted, widening in surprise at something behind you, and you did not hear the hotel lobby door swing open and closed outside of your view. "In fact, I'd be delighted to share with him. I'm sure he'll be just as funny and respectful as he always is."

"You think I'm funny."

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the question framed as a statement, and spun round to face Kento...but not as you knew him. You stuttered.

"Oh, wow, Kento...your hair..."

Gone was the sloppy, loping fringe. Instead, Kento's honey-blond hair was neatly parted, undercut, framing his face. All of a sudden, he was so...handsome. Kento glowered down at you, impassive and unreadable. He gave one baleful hum at your assessment of him.

"I assume something happened with the room bookings, then. For you to wind up stuck with me." Before you could answer, Kento pulled his phone out of his pocket, turning back to the doorway with one enormous hand grasping his suitcase handle. "You shouldn't have to make a decision to your detriment. It's not your fault. I'll find somewhere else to sta--"

Kento was interrupted, by your hand clasping over his on his suitcase handle. A grunt of surprise left his lips, at the feel of your dainty hand on his. He looked down at them, his expression always somewhere between anger and irritation. You knew better.

"Stay with me. We...get along well. We always have." Kento scowled, his eyes flickering behind you to the other girls, who, while surprised by how a simple haircut could alter Kento so, were sticking to their guns.

"I don't need your pity." Kento sniped, his voice low and earthy, "I'm perfectly happy to le--"

"And I'm perfectly happy to share. Stop being so headstrong and listen to me."

Kento bristled, looking torn between argument and agreement. As the others collected their keys, filing off to their respective rooms, you awaited his decision. With a huff, Kento fetched your room key, and headed off down the corridor. You fizzed with excitement at the prospect of spending more time with him, but suppressed it, following him with an air of assumed solemnity.

The airs and graces were soon dropped, when the door to your room swung shut behind you and Kento, and you found it to have--

"...just one bed. Shit." Kento's face twisted in discomfort, his Adams apple bobbing deliciously as he swallowed. His eyes trailed down to you, and caught your blush as if it were contagious. He turned to grasp the door handle again, stuttering, so unlike himself.

"Couldn't possibly-- absolutely not appropriate-- my mistake entirely-- find somewhere else--"

"Will you? Find somewhere else, I mean?" Kento faltered, his grip on the door handle loosening. He looked at you with something akin to dread. "On cherry blossom week? In historic Kyoto?" By the time you were finished talking, Kento had deflated like a sad balloon animal.

Night had long since fallen. You heard the laughter, baths and showers running, from the girls in the adjacent rooms. Your confidence was a total mask, as you opened your suitcase, rummaging inside for pyjamas. Your heart pounded in your chest, made all the worse by Kento's silent, tortured appraisal of you. You realised, with a jolt, that you had brought nothing but an oversized t-shirt and underwear to wear to bed.

Beneath his eyes, you were transparent. He felt the tension roll off you in waves. Kento cleared his throat, his ears red, a youthful flush across his nose.

"I'll-- I'll go shower." He offered, considering trying to drown himself. He heard you hum, speaking absentmindedly.

"Go on. Smelly boy." You had barely registered what you said, hearing something like a laugh from Kento as he swung the bathroom door closed behind him. You threw yourself face down on the bed, muffling your cries of anguish into a pillow. Kento leaned against the shower wall as water tumbled down his back, trying not to think with his cock, and failing miserably, cursing his body for its feral stupidity.

You remained face down on the bed. Trying to think unsexy thoughts was murder. You had always wondered how Kento looked, long and tight beneath old band t-shirts. You'd had the briefest glimpse of his abs and happy trail once, when he reached above you to switch the projector on in class. How you had restrained yourself from leaning in and licking the soft skin of his navel was beyond you. The thought of the noise he would have made, alone, had kept you going for weeks. The way you caught him looking at you in class the next day, took you the rest of the way.

"Shower's free." You sat bolt upright, your brain short-circuiting to see Kento stood at the bathroom door in nothing but pyjama trousers, steam billowing out across broad shoulders and swept back hair. You forced your mask back into place.

"Thought you'd died in there." You offered, not as casual as you sounded. You fumbled your shower bag and pyjamas out of your bag, and made your way to the bathroom. You and Kento danced awkwardly, trying to skirt round each other. With a grunt of irritation, Kento grasped your upper arms, moving you effortlessly around him into the bathroom. His touch was scalding. You wouldn't possibly make it through the weekend.

By the time you headed out of the shower, tugging at your t-shirt to make it cover more of your thighs, you blushed to your toes to see Kento sat up in bed, bare chested and reading. He read the same sentence over, and over, and over, trying with broken determination not to track his eyes up your legs, and imagine how you tasted between them. Feeling you hurriedly slip into bed beside him made his cock jump, and he reached out with a fumbling hand, switching off the light without warning.

Only the faint bathroom light illuminated the room. You both lay, backs to each other, on opposite sides of the bed. The silence grew oppressively heavy. You felt lightheaded, barely breathing, hyperaware of every noise and movement your bodies made. You were paralysed by thoughts of his honey-rich voice, his lightly freckled shoulders itching to be touched, how it would feel to be trapped beneath him while he fell apart above you.

"I'm sorry." You blinked, hearing Kento's apologetic rumble.

"...what are you sorry for?"

"This...this situation. I know I'm no fun to be around. And I've made my peace with that. But you--"

"You are fun. Very fun. I'm...not going to punish you for being an introvert."

Kento was quiet on his side of the bed, but no more relaxed. You had gathered the guts to reach one hand across the sheets to him, before he threw the covers aside, and moved to sit up.

"You need your own space. I'll sleep on the sofa." The 'sofa' sat at the end of the bed, barely more than a loveseat, and you snatched a hand out, grabbing Kento round the bicep. You almost shivered at the hard cords of muscle there, thicker than your hand by far, barely grasping on as Kento tensed.

"No. You're taller than me. I'll sleep on the sofa--"

"--absolutely not--"

"--stop being such a fucking gentleman and let me--"

"--I'm not a gentleman, it's just basic manners--"

"--listen, I feel fine, just come and share--"

"--offer some mad girl a bed and suddenly you're a gentleman--"

"Kento, please just come to bed with me."

Kento's brain stuttered, now. He rolled to face you, his whole body on fire, trying to sound calm. He was an open book, to you. You felt every nerve ending of your skin put to the flame.

"...come to bed...with you?" You moved to roll away and cover your face with your hands, indescribably mortified. Kento couldn't allow it-- not when he'd daydreamed about this for so long. He grasped your hands, rolling you back over to face him. He looked awkward, not used to his own strength, as you flipped back over with a squeak, and a weak apology from Kento. You had never noticed the beautiful whiskey depths of his eyes, before.

You were lost for words. The tables had turned so suddenly, you had no idea on which side you sat. Kento scoffed, a faint blush on his high cheekbones, scowling into a corner of the room. The silence thickened again. Kento huffed a laugh.

"Go to sleep. I'll...I'll just play some games for a while." He did not want to. He wanted to flip you over again, to hear that squeak again, wondering if you'd squeak or moan when he pressed his weeping length into your--

"Oh...what games did you bring?" Your eyes lit up, sparkling, sitting up in bed with a bounce. Kento melted. He wanted to put you in his pocket. He could manage the urges, but the affection overwhelmed him and he stuttered, fumbling for words.

"Because..." Kento waited on bated breath, your lips plush and parted, crawling just-so towards him on the bed, seeing how your breasts shifted between your arms beneath that fucking t-shirt and maybe she would want this too fuck we wouldn't come out all weekend once we've tasted each other fuck if she were my girlfriend she'd be my whole world wouldn't ask for anything else ever again--

"...because I'm desperate for a Gengar actually but I haven't got anyone to trade my Haunter with and--"

"Oh. I need a Golem."

"Oh."

"Nice."

You both rummaged in your bags, grabbing your GameBoys, and you swore, trying to find the cable to connect them. Kento raised his eyebrows, scooting himself back beside you in bed, and crossing his long legs.

"Really? You brought one? Who did you think was gonna trade with you, one of them out there--"

"I'll be honest, I was relying on you, Kento, like I always do." Kento's ears reddened. He moved to sweep back the fringe he no longer had. Instead, his long fingers swept back through his neat parting, mussing commas of blond over his forehead, in a way that made you want to do the same until his hair was a mess and he was groaning.

You sat shoulder to shoulder, comparing Pokémon teams. Kento favoured Steel and Fighting types in a balanced, well-prepared team with no weak links. You favoured Ghost types and anything cute, in a weird mismatched set-up that surprised your enemies. With your short cable connecting your GameBoys, you sat thigh to thigh. You hadn't noticed your toes scrunching against Kento's, foot, stroking your skin against his. You felt him shiver and tense.

"What-- what are you doing?" Kento asked, his voice catching in his throat. His chest felt tight. His whole being zeroed in on where your skin stroked his. You caught yourself, and curled your toes away, to Kento's disappointment. "It-- it's okay...you don't have to stop." Your games were ignored now, defunct in distracted hands.

You swallowed, the air thick with tension around you. He was so close, you could smell the residue of his cologne, and the natural masculine smell of him, earthy beneath freshly washed skin. The side of your breast, bare beneath your t-shirt, rested against his bicep. You felt his bicep clench, grazing your nipple. He felt the pebbled snag of your nipple against his arm. He knew he'd combust if he didn't feel your skin on his soon; knew his fragile resolve was breaking.

Your foot cautiously stretched back down, the sensitive skin of your toes stroking against the top of Kento's foot. You felt him shiver again, putting his GameBoy down with a grunt, his eyebrows drawn together with am arm over his eyes.

"Do you...like it when I touch you?"

Kento grumbled under his breath, his mouth twisted in faint derision. "Don't be cruel." You blushed, reaching out for his hand. Kento tangled his fingers in yours, pressing the back of your hand to his twitching thigh, and trailing featherlight fingertips over your palm and inner wrist, an erogenous zone you never knew you had until he elicited a shudder from you.

"See." Kento whispered, lightly stroking the spot on your inner arm that connected curiously to your clit and nipples, a fine gold thread of liquid arousal. "You like it, too. So if you don't mean anything by this, just stop. Don't...don't play games with me." He took his fingers away, and you almost whimpered, chasing his touch, begging.

"No, Kento, wait-- please...don't stop."

Kento short-circuited. He had never been so close to the fabled pleasure of anothers' body. Pornography had little impact for one without the flesh-memory of erotic touch. Kento's cock was thick, now, throbbing. You dropped your head to his shoulder, sighing with bliss as his trembling fingers resumed their butterfly kisses to your wrist. The growing tent in his pyjamas, and the way he spread his thighs aside to accommodate his erection, made your mouth water.

Kento shifted, his body moving on instinct, until he was tentatively leaning over you. He wanted to watch your face as he stroked your wrist, examining its fine little tendons and veins, and examining how you arched, your mouth parted, your t-shirt rucking up until he could see the warm squidge of your belly above your underwear. His voice was husky, thoughtful.

"You'd...you'd stop me, right? If you didn't want this?"

"Yeah, I...yeah. But I-- I don't want you to. I want m--"

Kenti bowed his head to drink the unfinished words off your lips, knowing you wanted more just as much as he did. He grunted against the taste of you, his lips shuddering and uncertain, only hoping his sincerity came through. Kissing him back hard, your lips and tongues clashed, both instinctual, hungry, tasting. You and Kento spurred each other on, your mutual desperation rising exponentially with each nip of the lips, each tongue thrust into each others' mouth, each moan snatched and devoured between kisses.

Your hands sunk into each others' hair, ruffling, teasing, pulling, and you whimpered into Kento's mouth at the massage of his fingertips over your scalp. You were drunk. You had to be drunk, so high off the spontaneity of a moment you thought would be planned to a T.

Kento's mouth wandered, pressing and sucking sharp little lovebites into you on his way down your neck. You had ended up tangled around him, beneath him, the tip of his cock almost escaping beneath his waistband. Riding on buckish young urgency, Kento's broad hand had risen to grope your breast, possessive, trembling against the urge to squeeze you too hard. When you whimpered, arching into his touch, his mind flew back to him, shocked and ashamed by his stunning lack of self-control.

"Sorry," Kento gasped, his mouth and hand flying off you as if burnt, "fuck, sorry, 'msosorry--"

He broke off at the sight of you. Strewn, your hair scrunched against the pillow, with love-swollen lips and roses blooming on your neck, you were serene; for him. Thrown like petals onto the sheets, all for him and his mouth and his hands. Kento felt the fog descend again, dampening his judgement, for the instinctual urge to fuck.

"Have you...have you ever..." You felt Kento's meaning. His voice was rough, deep as the valley, and hewn with stone. You shook your head, still supple and dopey from his attentions. Kento's held breath released in one husky groan. He swallowed, shaking his head down at you.

"No, I...me neither. Always wondered, always--" Always what? Always daydreamed about it almost constantly? Always chastised himself for being such a fucking animal? But, the look in your eyes as you drank him in. Kento and you met on that clouded bridge, in the middle. Your pussy ached with promise.

Kento's hand came to settle slowly on your breast again, delighted by the way you pressed into him. His fingers grazed down over your nipple, reaching the hem of your shirt, brushing upwards.

"I can...can I? Please?"

"Please. Please, yes please, god."

"Fuck...I can't...cant believe it-- finally--" Kento didn't seem to realise he was moaning his inner thoughts aloud, rucking your t-shirt up like unwrapping a gift. As your breast freed, Kento shuddered again, slanted brown eyes scrutinising your body with analytical intent, committing you to memory.

His hand ghosted over your tummy, tracing dimples and stretch marks on the way, before curling around your breast, giving the gentlest of squeezes. The noise that left his mouth was somewhere between a cough and a moan. Still possessed by a haze of need, his mouth dipped down, tongue flicking out over your nipple, before capturing it with his mouth as you arched again, keening. He pressed into your arch, one arm planted above your head, the opposite hand rolling your other breast between keen fingers.

He couldn't help but rock the straining underside of his cock against your barely-covered pussy. The material between you was so thin, you could feel the whole length of him, and the tapering shape of his bulbous tip as it snagged against your clit. Kento knew he'd cum like this, if he wasn't careful, and shivered at the idea of spilling his seed all over your belly. He brushed away his hurrying peak, so determined was he that you'd cum before him.

"--keep--keep doing that...Kentoooo--oooh, feels so good--"

A rush of competitive pride burned through him. He couldn't help but murmur against your spit-slick nipple, nuzzling it with his nose.

"Keep telling me...what feels good. Make sure I'm not selfish, 'cos I--I'll just take if you don't--"

Suddenly hyperaware of your own body and how you must look, dopey and blissful as you chased pleasure by rutting his length between your legs, you stopped, and Kento huffed.

"I can hear you--thinking you look stupid-- and you don't--" He scowled down at you, his voice hoarse and strained between heavy grunts of ecstasy. "Will you cum? Like...like that?" Kento nodded down towards where you had been rolling your pussy against him. You tried to pull an arm over your eyes, blushing, extraordinarily embarrassed. Kento tangled his fingers in yours, pressing them over your head.

"Hey-- hey-- listen, I'll...I'll let you see me cum...if you let me see you. Please." You swallowed, mouth watering at the thought of watching Kento break, such sincere fascination trickling down your spine.

"...okay." You answered, uncharacteristically meek. Kento huffed another laugh.

"Good girl." You blushed from hairline to toes, involuntarily bucking up against Kento with his words. He began to rut against you again, the friction good but not quite right, not as good as it could be. You threw caution to the wind.

"Hang-- hang on, I'll just..." You reached a hand down beneath your panties, parting your labia just enough for Kento's heavy length to snag harder against your clit.

Kento's eyes zeroed in on the creamy white discharge on your fingers as you pulled your hand out, and when he continued his motions, you fell supple and needy beneath him again, groaning with the pleasure of his bulbous tip and the ridge beneath it, catching your clit. Pleasure bloomed through you, so much closer to orgasm than you had thought.

"--don't stop--" You begged, arching up towards Kento until he fucked down harder with a broken growl, his own need to cum eclipsed by your pleasure. Drawing one nipple deeper into his mouth, and lubricating the other with his spit to roll it fluidly between his fingers, Kento learned fast, playing you like an instrument until your mouth gaped in a silent cry, your first orgasm received from another, roaring through you in waves.

Kento kept humping against you, not recognising that you had reached your peak. He faltered, hips stuttering and panting as you groaned, squirming and writhing, groping at him with desperate, fucked-out hands. Kento was obsessed, a spurt of pre-cum adding to the slick he'd already made between your legs. Utterly besotted, his slim eyes wide with blown pupils, he shakily raised one hand to stroke your hair, kissing your forehead through the bliss, shushing you with whispered praise.

"--so cute...look so pretty...thank you-- thank you--"

As you came down from your high, you heard him thanking you, and laughed, trying to cover your face as he batted your hands away, playful and smirking. Biting your lip, emboldened by post-nut confidence, you slid your hand down to grip Kento's clothed, pulsing cock. He stilled above you with a grunt, looking so angry again as that feral, desperate haze descended. You begged him, hushed and soft.

"Can I...feel it?" Kento's thoughts burst with single-minded relief. He nodded, breath catching in his chest, allowing you to roll him over onto the bed until you were lying on your side beside him. You stroked his clothed length, fascinated, watching every reaction with cruel innocence.

Unsure how to handle him, you faltered as your hand began to slip inside his pyjamas. Kento had one arm slung over his face, still scowling, wanting desperately to watch you play with his cock, but too self-conscious.

"Here, I'll--" Kento reached down, shucking his pyjamas down until his cock released. Kento seemed embarrassed by his size, distinctly bigger than average, and thick, his pink tip peeking out from beneath his foreskin. Mistaking the cause of your silence for disgust, Kento grimaced behind his forearm, apologising.

"--shit, 'msorry, I know I-I'm--"

"...wow." Your breathless little gasp, followed by your hand immediately circling round Kento's cock, sent his mind blank again, watching you with dumb adoration as you examined the weight of his cock in your hand. Your hand gripped him, stroking from ball to tip with an inexperienced squeeze that had Kento grunting, gasping and bucking beneath you. It didn't matter that you had clearly never handled an erection in your life; for Kento, who had never been stroked by a woman looking at his cock and face with hungry, adoring eyes, he was being rushed towards a toe-curling orgasm.

"--st--sta--stopstopstop, m'gonna cu--m'gonna cum--'m gonna--"

Your hand stopped immediately, and Kento snarled, before gasping, momentarily shocked by his visceral reaction to being teased just to the edge of completion. Your pupils dilated, obscenely aroused by the strange danger of a furiously needy man about to cum in your hand. You were lost in the tease, lowering your head and maintaining eye contact as you threatened your lips just over the tip of Kento's cock.

"...stop?"

Kento was glazed, eyebrows tilted, looking uncharacteristically concerned, darting between your mouth, and your eyes, and back again. His nose flared with hot little pants. A barely perceptible shake of the head. You smiled, laying the flat of your tongue against the tip of Kento's cock, and licking over the bulbous head with an incoordinate pump of his length.

Kento's moan rumbled from his chest outwards, muffled as he bit into his own arm, his mind blown by the wet little sucks of his cockhead that he'd imagined only in his wettest dreams. He hurtled with breakneck speed towards his peak, finishing with frantic bucks and begs.

"--oh my--fucking g-god--huuugh fuckfuckfuck sorry m'sorry--shit--"

Kento came with an uncontrollable roar of pleasure, both arms gripping the pillow beneath his head, biceps straining, balls clenching. You pulled free of his cock with a wet pop and a little cry of surprise, when the first spurt of cum salted your tongue.

You continued to stroke him, obsessed with the jerk of him in your hand, the way he groaned, low and long, with each stripe of thick, white seed up his belly. It was only after the twitches had ceased, his cock sluggish against his belly, that Kento began to gasp like a fish out of water and gripped his hand around yours.

"--sto--sta--stop...fuck...so...sogood sosogood..."

The words left your mouth before you even thought to stop them, a years old masturbatory kink suddenly within reach. "Can you cum like that inside me?"

Kento stared at you in mute shock, his neat new haircut mussed beyond repair. His post-cum brain struggled to process your request. You frantically babbled to reassure him.

"--I--I mean no condom--and hear me out hear me out-- I've got good protection-- and and I've never and you've never so we won't catch anything--"

Kento was above you, flipping you onto your back and suckling at your neck again within seconds. You heard his oddly grown-man chastisement into your neck, while his body moved in the total opposite direction.

"So fucking irresponsible-- just just "oooooh cum inside me Kento" just like that, fuck-- do you think I'm--I'm fucking stupid? Sh...shit...fucking yes please I can't believe I'm doing this--"

Kento's cock had barely softened, graced by the barely-there refractory period of youth. He was thick, heavy, and dragging down your belly. You were just as frantic as him, kicking off your underwear and watching Kento hyperfocus again; this time, on your bare sex, right before his eyes.

He knelt back, gripping himself in his fist as if holding himself back. Feeling his sharp eyes penetrate you, you moved to close your legs. Kento looked at you as if you were mad, batting your thighs aside with his knees as you covered your face, mortified.

"Beautiful." He berated, rubbing his fingers through the cum spattered on his belly, and sinking them down to glide cautiously between your labia. You gasped, squirming, and Kento watched his fingers coat with your slick with a gulp, feeling a fresh burst of blood engorge his cock until he ached.

He leaned to his bag, rummaging and cursing, before coming back up with a bottle of lube. You shot Kento a look and he shot you a look in return, berating you again with a voice stricter than fitting for his age; "I was expecting a room of my own."

"Oh yeah? How's that working out for you?"

"Very well actually-- stop laughing or I'll--"

"...you'll what? Make me?" You asked, coy. Kento let out a strangled little groan, and pinched the bridge of his nose as you laughed.

"...don't even...dont even know what you're asking...idiot--" Kento huffed as you drew a crooked smile out of him, your joyful muffled giggles a natural balm to his baseline rage. You stilled again, breathless as you watched him stroke his pulsing cock, your throat dry with voyeuristic anticipation. Kento panted, beyond embarrassment and hanging on by a thread.

Kento stroked some lube between your puffy folds, eyes heavy as you squirmed, prodding one finger softly at your entrance. You stilled beneath him, holding your breath. Kento tangled your fingers in his.

"Breathe." He hummed, and as you released a shaking breath, Kento began to ease one slick finger inside you. Your mouth dropped open, eyes closed beneath raising eyebrows, as Kento slid his long finger into you all the way to his knuckle. He hadn't realised he was holding his breath until he felt lightheaded.

"...you...you feel...fuck, incredible, so--so tight..." Kento whispered, his voice low and gravelly, that same primal urge to fuck immediately into you threatening to cloud his brain. By the way you gazed up at him, still and supple, you would probably let him too and he could just push right in and--

"...we'll take it slow," Kento reassured you, tight and tense, "...and I'll stop straight away if...if it hurts."

Your eyelids fluttered to feel Kento's thick tip prod at your entrance, sure he wouldn't fit until he pressed forwards, and you stretched like you'd never stretched before. You bit your lip against the faint sting, nodding urgently and gripping Kento's thighs as he looked at you in concern.

Kento was lost in the moment, his eyes zeroing in on where he gradually sheathed himself inside you. He'd never felt such exquisite pleasure, obsessed by how your plush walls moulded to the shape of him, sucking him in, slick and tight. You squeaked, biting into Kento's shoulder as he bore down on you, his cock almost sunk to the hilt. He stilled as he bottomed out, his fingertips bruising on your hip, trembling with jagged groans.

You felt so strangely placid, full, and wrapping your legs around the small of Kento's back to lock him inside you. The brief sting, the belly-deep ache, left you feeling like you had made a blooming transition from girl to woman in one deep thrust. Kento drank you in, pressing a long, lingering kiss to your lips and mumbling against them.

"...'m not gonna last long." Kento was possessed, pulling out a little before rutting into you again, delighted by your gasp, determined to break more noises out of you. His usual gentle nature was becoming quickly overrun by a firm, authoritative edge, not knowing yet how this would come to define him as a man.

Kento rocked into you, shallowly at first, before gaining the confidence that he wouldn't break you. By the time he had built a rhythm, pumping into you through sweaty pants, your breaths mingling together, he felt the drag of orgasm approaching him fast. Kento's imagination could never have matched up to the reality of dragging his cock through such nectar.

Any time Kento tried to talk, he broke off into anguished pants and groans into your throat, sinking his teeth there for a moment, seemingly irritated by how sloppy he'd become.

"...j'sso...uhnfuck...wet--best thing I--...huhnnn--"

Hearing you whimper and squeak as he moved within you offered him some condolence for being a speechless mess, at least.

Though you knew you wouldn't cum from this alone, you were lost in the addictive feeling of being full and fucked into by Kento chasing an instinctual high. You couldn't help but let your fingers wander downwards, rubbing your clit beneath them. The thick pressure in your belly made your pleasure three-dimensional, so much better than your fingers alone.

Kento was a quiet lover, saying more through heated glances and lingering touches than he ever could through words. Knowing he was holding back for fear of hurting you, you whispered against his ear, sending ripples down his spine.

"--harder-- pleasepleaseplease--"

"Fffuck okay...this?" Kento sunk into you to the hilt and jabbed, urging himself deeper, earning a guttural groan as his cockhead pressed against your cervix and soft-spot. He nodded into your neck, shuddering deeply. "Th-this...yeah...oh fuck, yeah..." Your toes curled against the back of his thighs, and you sobbed with the bone-deep adoration of his kisses to your womb. Kento's restraint snapped, tilting your hips as he gripped you, holding nothing else back.

Kento sped up, driving himself inside you with total abandon, his breaths coming out as spitting curses and groans. Finally, he strained above you, his moans breaking and peaking, unable to hold off any longer;

"--gonna...gonna...cum in you for--for-fucking-ever-- nnggh--"

Watching Kento break and spill himself inside you, his cock jerking with long, painfully pleasurable contractions, was the erotic vision you had sought your whole adult life. Hurriedly working your fingers until your own high hit you, had Kento collapsing on top of you to feel your pussy clenching around him, milking him of every little drop of seed.

Kento was silent, his corded back clenching over you. You nuzzled into his ear, pressing kisses along his jaw until he gave you his lips with a groan. Pulling gently out, and replacing his cock with his fingertips so he could feel how his seed dripped from your cunt, had Kento wondering vaguely how he'd ever use a condom now he'd tasted the ripe-peach of you without a barrier.

You nipped Kento's neck, jolting him back to reality. Glossy doe-eyes glimmered up at him in the dark; and you, desperate to feel full again, completely addicted to him as he was to you.

"...again?"

"...give-- give me a minute."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Heard some strange noises coming out of your room last night."

You kept your face innocently neutral at the breakfast table the next morning. You tipped your head to the side, inquisitive, as if you didn't feel multiple thick loads of Kento's seed soaking your underwear.

"Oh?"

"Mhm." A knowing stare from the other girls at the table. Kento sat down, clearing his throat, his plate piled with what should have been an embarrassing number of pastries.

"She's really good. At Pokémon battles." You had a single moment to admire Kento's absolute gall, the other girls looking at him with vague displeasure as he continued.

"Her Gengar's really strong actually. I wasn't ready for it. I thought Machamp would be a good choice, but--"

The other girls had already lost interest, turning their conversations elsewhere. Kento looked up at you from the other end of the table as you mouthed oh my god at him. He was inscrutable, apart from his twinkling eyes.

You were fortunate that none of these girls were at your wedding, years later. But you did occasionally still refer to making love as 'Pokémon battles', if just to hear your impassive, suited, quiet man laugh.

[anonimusunnoaniswriting]

Jujutsu Packers and Movers:

Imagine, blonde haired, THICC, strong man, Nanami Kento.

Imagine his muscles rippling under his skin, tight shirt almost bursting at the seams as he lifts your couch with the help of his dark haired friend.

Imagine him positioning all your furniture, exactly the way you ask. After all, how can he deny a request from such a pretty lady, all alone in this new city, with no one else to help her.

Imagine him wiping the sweat off his brow as he makes sure you are completely satisfied with how it looks in your new apartment.

Imagine him turning and asking you (standing in the doorframe watching them work – one more than the other – holding two glasses of ice cold lemonade) "Can I help you with anything else miss?" Voice rumbling like quiet thunder shooting straight down to your core.

Imagine him choking on the welcome drink as you smile and reply, "Yeah, can I have your number?", pink blush dusting your cheekies

[mrhaitch]

Hii Mr.Haitch , hope you and and your family are having a wonderful time 🎀

I wanna know what is your opinion on Nanami Kento , I mean idk if you read or watched the show but you must’ve heard it Alot from Haitch right ? Do you think you’re similar to him in a way people think ?

I personally think you’re like a mix of nanami, higurama and geto (well again that’s just me)

Also what did the Haitch family dress up as for halloween 🤭

Well it's currently 6:10am on Halloween so not much has happened. I unfortunately have to go to work for a bit today to get things prepped for the latter half of the term (we've covered all the topics, now it's time to get things embedded). We're not going to be dressing up, as Halloween isn't a big deal here but I think Haitch and I will likely start our replay of Resident Evil Village tonight and order in some food.

I wrote something about Nanami a little while ago, which is here:

Personally, I don't really see it. There are some visual similarities: similar height, similar build (more first season than second, but we'll see where I'm at when my current training cycle ends), similar hair both in colour and style etc., but in terms of character - I don't see it. He's highly fixated on rules and order where I'm a chaotic gremlin who delights in mischief and disobedience.

Sic Gorgiamus Allos Subjectatos Nunc, as the Addams family motto goes.

For Higuruma, I've seen so little of the character I can't comment. As I said in a previous post - he's very "lawyer man likes justice", and while I'm sure there's more depth there I haven't really seen it.

Perhaps it's a difference between how I seem and how I am - appearance and substance. I can appear to be quite stern, aloof, detached but at base I think I'm quite a warm person that wants the best for people, while being very scatty, and plagued by a suspicion that I am unworthy in some fundamental way. Call it a suspicion of rot, somewhere deep in my character.

Geto is a new one, though.

[keyrey]

Behind the fic ‘A thousand Degrees’

Click here if you would like to read before getting a look on my thought process!

I find it interesting that humanity has grown rapidly over just a few hundred years. Back then, blacksmiths were influential and essential to the economy.

Inspiration: Writing the story, I was primarily inspired by the Fontaine soundtrack from Genshin Impact. I learned that the region was centered around the Industrial Revolution in France, which is why you might see steampunk-themed ideas throughout the town, like the robots (Coppelia and Coppelius) and the underwater towers. Although Nanami didn’t swim underwater, hold his breath for an ungodly amount of time, or receive a divine gift of hydro resonance, I enjoyed the direction I took the original premise in… Plus, I really just love the Fontaine soundtrack.

Likeness capture: If you read part one, I attempted to capture Nanami’s personality and morals in this unique way, combining a couple of headcanons together to make one. His tea garden is filled with osmanthus and jasmine flowers. He also started helping others with making financial decisions, a nod to his ex-salaryman character!

Descriptions: Clothing wise overall, I’m seeing a trend of… overalls, white long sleeved shirts, a brown or black hat. Muted colors. ← This one stood out to me the most as a steampunk blacksmith. A mixture of orange and brown tones with a flashy top hat to match.

Overall, I do recognize that ‘Kento Nanami as a Blacksmith’ isn’t the most original idea thanks to the wonderful Mrs. Haitch but I've taken my own spin on this prompt. Fan-fictions are a creative outlet for me and I’m just starting to be brave enough to post them online. I do not think anyone can ‘own’ a writing prompt. It’s why character x reader and all of your favorite tropes exist.

As this is my second ever fanfic, I’m always looking for feedback and improvements that could be made. If you have any ideas for the sequels to come, please let me know in the ‘ask me anything’ box on my page. (I haven’t started part two yet so please give me ideas!) If you want to collaborate and co-write with me, I’m always available.

Once again: Click here if you would like to read ‘A thousand degrees’ part one.

Thank you for reading!

[delirious-donna]

Also 👀 just wanna expand a bit on my Kento thirst

You say he'll become insatiable when he knows he can have babies. I can imagine he'll go to great lengths just to find the sexiest spots and sometimes semi public spots to just fuck his lover. Sometimes his brain goes blank and all he can think about is to breed and sometimes...he's not even in the best place to do so but he can't help it.

With his strength, he definitely can pick up his lover and just pin them to the wall and fuck them until he empties himself completely into them with such a loud growl. 🥵🥵🥵🤭

Bacon!!! Please! You’re killing me! I was going to recommend @/pseudowho’s operation baby maker series but I saw in the notes that you’ve already read them 🤭

I don’t wanna expand too much on it because I kinda agree with literally everything Haitch send in those but he definitely insatiable when babies are on the cards!!

[actuallysaiyan]

Congrats on the milestone! <3

Writers I adore:

@peachsayshi - peach is genuinely so lovely and I always love seeing them pop up on my dash with little thoughts that spark so many wicked thoughts

@pseudowho - safe to say that I would be a lot more bored had I not stumbled across their path. We spend (arguably) unhealthy amounts of time discussing our two fellas, Kento and Hiromi. She makes me laugh more than anyone else on this hellsite.

@rookieloveskashi - a truly sweet angel who loves Kakashi as much (maybe more) than I do. I drool over her commissions with the handsome silver-haired ninja and I love her soft smutty takes on him so much.

Artists I adore:

@kanashiki79 - keeps me in excellent supply of the best Higuruma fan art. Has made me question many things about that man and inspired a good few ideas for stories.

@nizuut - oh the Nanami art... so delicious. So wonderful. Kento as a AoT titan!!! Need I say more?

I think that's enough for now!!

Donna thank you!! This is two shout outs for Haitch, I think it's safe to say there's lots of love going around <3 Makes me happy to see that people enjoy other's work this much! And very much thank you for the artists shout out! Fanartists are so important in the fandoms, I don't know what I'd do without the wonderful artists of Tumblr!! Thank you so much!

[daisynik7]

Hi🌷 I hope you're doing well!

I had to write this before going on a mini hiatus bc I knew I'd forget about your fic swap event before the 15th. Tbh, I'm gonna do a self-promo bc no fics come to mind atm and I need to cook dinner 😭

Golden Frame - This one's a bit sentimental since it's practically a self insert. It's the first 18+ thing I wrote for Kento. Also, I really love the idea of a museum date with him and know for a fact he'd refer to you as "art". I probably should've reread over this before sending it in but wtv.

Wishlist - I'm a sucker for a combo esp when it involves fluff. I'll take a double or triple threat (fluff/smut or fluff/smut/angst) Ofc my request is for Nanami lol.

I'm excited to see what you recommend! I also love that you did this event ❄🤍 happy holidays, nikki!

Hi Jade! Thank you so much for participating in this! I missed this work of yours and I'm so so SO excited to read it! thank you for sending this to me, going to eat it up asap.

For your wishlist, I have a few amazing Nanami fics I'd like to recommend to you:

Infiltration by @/pseudowho. It's an on-going series that has EVERYTHING. Cults, action, hurt/comfort, delicious sexual tension that's sure to lead to even more delicious smut. Haitch is a phenomenal writer and this story has me in a chokehold.

Baby Talk by @/itsfairly. BABY FEVER WITH NANAMI AHHHHH. Do I need to say more? It's so cute and fluffy! I love the way fairly writes Nanami!

Yuuji accidentally calls you mom by @/kentopedia. I love this one so much. this healed me when I read it after that episode of JJK. This one is so precious and I think about it a lot. Rylie is an incredible writer.

Also, I'd like to throw one more in there, one of yours. This Is A Life is such a sweet fic that also helped heal me after that episode. I love it so much (Captain Bubbles! 🥹).

Thanks again for participating!

nikki's first annual fic swap

[pseudowho]

"...alright. Just the usual ones? Night time too...and tampons. Don't ever apologise. Alright. We'll be home soon. I love you."

The mid-morning traffic, less frantic now than an hour before, shhhaaaahed around the car. From the passenger seat, Yuuji watched Kento with a fascination about to bubble over with suppressed laughter. Kento put the phone down. Yuuji, just a boy, grinned, almost teasingly at Kento.

"Tampons, huh, Nanamin?"

Kento looked to Yuuji, flicking the windscreen wipers on to rid the screen of drifting cherry blossom. His face remained neutral, sincerely questioning. Yuuji scoffed, bold as brass, before continuing.

"Jeez Nanamin...you're such a simp."

Kento's eyes narrowed, searching for meaning. He repeated, slowly, the word unfamiliar upon his tongue.

"...'simp'."

"You'd do anything for her, right?"

"Is that...a bad thing? You say the word, not that I know it, as if it's derogatory."

Kento tapped on his phone, and Yuuji backpedaled, his grin sliding away to a wide-mouthed grimace as he waved his hands in a fit of no, wait, I can explain. Kento appeared to be reading, his face growing dour. He huffed, one short puff of air from his nose. He tucked his phone away.

"Ah-- Nanamin-- I didn't mean--"

"A simp, hmm? Alright. Come along, Yuuji."

They drove. Yuuji bit his nails as he stared out into traffic. Kento was silent, calm.

And Kento took Yuuji on errands.

At the Conbini, Kento collected pads, tampons, snacks and pain relief.

"Do you have any of the night time ones?" Kento asked the assistant, holding up a pack of pads, unashamed, as Yuuji tried to sink into the floor, just a boy. As the assistant walked away, Kento asked Yuuji, calmly.

"Would a simp do this?"

"Ah...jeez, I...yeah, I guess so."

"Alright."

In the Florist's, Kento was meticulous with the sweating assistant, identifying only the finest blooms of your favourite wildflowers. He commandeered, insisting they were wrapped in brown paper, stamped with wax and tied with ribbons. Tapping his fingers on the counter, bored, Yuuji's reverie was once more broken by Kento's smooth timbre.

"Would a simp do this?"

Kento walked up beside Yuuji, with a spray of sweet botanicals in his arms. Yuuji squirmed beneath the schooling.

"Yeah, I...I reckon so. Probably."

"Splendid. Come along."

At the launderette, collecting your repaired jacket; "Would a simp do this?"

At your parents' house, dropping off a birthday card; "Would a simp do this?"

At Jujutsu High, filing some late paperwork for you; "Would a simp do this?"

In the car, calling Ijichi to cancel drinks the following night; "Would a simp do this?"

By the time Kento had completed his errands, Yuuji sulked, just a boy, begrudging how overboard Kento had gone, all because Yuuji had used slang that meant nothing apart from something Kento couldn't understand.

Yuuji stood back in the hallway, shucking his shoes off, as Kento walked ahead.

Yuuji's eyes darted up, to you, shocked to see that you were...a mess. You could hide the tears all you liked, but your puffy lips and salt-sore cheeks told of a whole day of crying. The dinner Yuuji usually enjoyed wasn't made. The fragrant candles that Yuuji usually enjoyed weren't lit. The curtains were closed.

Yuuji felt vicariously guilty for something he had not done, but he listened to yours and Kento's mumbled conversation.

"...sorry...so shit...haven't done anything...needed you...Yuuji must be hungry, I..."

"...shhh...done nothing wrong...Ijichi cancelled tomorrow anyway...order take-out...come here..."

Kento held you in a rustle of bags and brown-papered flowers. He did not begrudge the tear stains on his lapels. He looked at you as though your very blood ran divine, when you gave the flowers and bag of snacks a watery smile, pressing a salty kiss to Kento's cheeks before walking to the kitchen.

As Kento and Yuuji stood back, watching you swipe your tears away before beginning to fill a vase with Kento's wildflowers, Yuuji dawned upon the cusp of a bold new understanding. Kento felt it, this gentle yearning, and took Yuuji by the hand over the horizon.

Kento's voice was, slow, considered, and gut-wrenchingly sincere.

"Never deny yourself the beauty of loving someone without restraint, for the fear of vulnerability, Yuuji. Never let anyone taint the way love should guide and consume you. Because if loving wholeheartedly is weakness...you shouldn't want to be strong."

Yuuji watched the gentle golden thread of joy that Kento had woven through your sadness. He shuffled, his hands in his pockets, his peachy head tilted down as he kicked at his shoes.

"...yeah, I get you. I'll... I'll be a simp too, then. When I find the one. And...and I'll be proud of it."

Kento smiled, pressing a bag of snacks to Yuuji's chest.

"And I'll be proud of you."

[actuallysaiyan]

Oh hello 😌 I just saw your follower milestone, a very big WOOHOO for 7k followers, that's so satisfying 👌👌

I saw you're doing a little positivity event, and I agree the weird jealousy and vibes here have not been good lately.

I would love to nominate three people, all of whom stand out to me for outstanding writing quality:

@delirious-donna makes love feel real. The domestic truth to it all is the reality of love, and it's the sort of fluff and smut that actually integrated itself into my imaginings of me and my blorbos, because it's so fucking *real*. I adore it. There's a sense of humour, it's silly when you least expect it, and it flows so easily, before you know it you're at the end of a fic and you're upset there wasn't more to read. She's writing 'Your Best Friend's Brother Kento' right now, and there are two more chapters to go, and I'm excited for it to be done because then I can go back and binge read it from start to finish. She's also one of the rare and wonderful quality Higuruma writers in this place, so is a gem to be held in esteem!

@bunny584 writes the most ethereal beauty I've seen put to paper for years. I'd let her scalpel her stories onto my skin. Her words score themselves onto my soul anyway, so let's tattoo them there too. Her 'Obsessed' series has something for everyone, her ongoing Priest!Suguru series has me feeling all sorts of unwell, and I haven't started her HxH SatoSugu series yet because I haven't had a case of wine arrive that's big enough.

I also have a fat medical moot crush on her 🫦 hmu bunny babe, I'm tall and curvy and we can discuss suture techniques.

@catopoliscat has written smut that makes me Feel Things™️ and I've been left thinking about for days. I sit by her blog with a little bowl and a "feed me" face, even though her gracious neighbours have been feeding me plenty, and I'm just fat and greedy. Her virgin!Nanami piece was stunning, authentic, and had me clenching my legs together and praying (I'm atheist).

Love the opportunity to share my favourite writers 👏👏 Happy 7k, and WOOT WOOT vibes for moving forwards to 8k next.

Love,

-- Haitch xxx

Thank you so much Haitch! I love the commentary within the shout outs! It's very sweet and I really feel the love! This is the best part of the event too, is just being able to show our love for these creators and these wonderful people! Thank you so much for this <3

[pseudowho]

Listen, if you haven't read Rahuratna's series, you should.

Like, I reblog stuff for *me* to find later, and then I also reblog stuff because it is an absolute public service that I do so, because it is in thr wider public interest that this is read.

This is both of those: me and public interest.

Do yourself a favour, discover excellent writing, and read this series.

It's a love story in 10 parts (so far) and you won't regret it, frankly.

Nanami Kento: Relationship Headcanons (now a fic), Part 10

Warning: MDNI!! Explicit sexual content in this and following chapter. Details below cut.

Contents: smut, fingering, mild breast play, oral sex (male receiving), mild testicle play.

Somewhere, between the bedroom door and the bed, Kento seems to come to a realization. You feel it in the way his almost desperate touches slow in pace, transforming to burning trails traced with agonizing slowness over the curves of your body.

His message is unspoken, and very clear. He wants this to be perfect. He wants to take his time with you.

You are more than happy to comply.

Your lips part from his with a soft, wet sound in the charged silence of the room. Something about this man, the way he looks at you, touches you, welcomes you wholeheartedly into his life, gives you a confidence you've never felt with any other lover. It leaves you feeling powerful.

He watches in almost pained concentration as you step away from him, eyes never leaving his. You're now wearing just your underwear and you wonder if the light catches your skin as tantalizingly as it does his. You reach behind you to unhook the clasps of your bra, but he stops you, grasping your wrist gently.

"Let me."

The soft desire in his voice flickers over you like a flame. You allow him to turn you, facing the bed, your hair draped forward over one shoulder. His fingertips scrape slightly against your skin as he works the hook, tracing down your sides as the straps slip off your shoulders and fall away.

He steps forward, pressing his body into your back, and you almost tip forward onto the bed from how overwhelming his bare skin feels against yours. He moulds to fit the shape of you, and you make out the shift of his pectorals as he brings his arms around, the subtle scrape of the coarse hairs on his chest against your shoulder blades. His breath is like a furnace against the nape of your neck, and you tilt your head, a soft noise leaving you involuntarily as his mouth descends, opening against the sensitive skin; a promise.

His hands are on the dip of your waist, large palms spanning you, rising, rising. They trace the outline of your breasts, and you rise on tiptoes, head falling back against him with a gasp as he cups them. His grip is firm, caressing, the roughened skin of his palms catching on your over-sensitive nipples as he draws broken little sighs from between your lips.

His breathing is accelerating as he feels you, supple under his touch, feeding on the noises you're making for him. His fingers leave their almost obsessive squeeze and stroke of your flesh and slide lower, under the lace hem of your panties. He pauses as if asking permission, even now, and you place your hands over his, pushing down impatiently.

He huffs a small laugh against your hair and then your panties are gone, slipping down to rest softly at your ankles. You feel completely exposed, and somehow, it arouses you beyond measure, knowing he will be the one looking, tasting, tou -

The breath temporarily leaves your lungs as he lifts you and tosses you gently down on the eiderdown, the small display of strength creating a pleasant throb between your legs. You turn over, taking him in fully as he gets on his knees and crawls across the bed towards you.

The lamplight gleams on his golden hair, mussed and uncharacteristically dishevelled by your touch. The sharp, lined corners of his eyes are softer, the scorching, languid glance drinking you in, but still so earnest, so endearing. He is utterly beautiful, from the powerful shoulders, lean waist, the small hairs that speckle the significant expanse of his chest and trail down, deliciously to the small, sandy tuft above the line of his underwear, to the arms and thighs that ripple with corded sinew, shadows chasing over every defined line visible in the dim intimacy of the bedroom.

You take a small, reverent breath and lie back, surrendering yourself completely as he reaches you, lying on his side against your supine form. He is so warm, so intoxicatingly close, breath fanning out against your collarbone as he takes a moment to drink in the sight of you, splayed out for him.

He cups your chest again, then grips the flesh firmly, his mouth coming down without warning around your nipple. The cry that leaves your lips spurs him on. Kento never does anything by halves. He gives your breasts his full attention, tongue tracing the rounded contours before descending on your stiffened peaks, mouth engulfing as much as he can take. His teeth grazing against you as he lifts his head each time, making you arch off the bed. He alternates between the left and right, laving them with soft licks and bites, and just when you've gained some semblance of control again, you feel his broad palm slide down your stomach.

"K - Kento - "

"Look. Look at yourself. Please. "

You obey him, raising yourself slightly on your elbows, hair pooling on the mattress behind you. Your thighs part at his approach, as if obeying some primal instinct. You already know how wet he's made you, and he grunts loudly when his hand finds your slick folds, watching you jerk, your mouth opening in a soundless cry. You don't take your eyes off where his fingers are, and your compliance makes his breath come quicker, the stuttering words that leave his lips spiralling up to the ceiling like smoke.

"You're ... darling, so wet - I - please. I want to - "

He is not accustomed to this, to expressing his desire verbally. You can tell. You decide to help him along, as much as you haven't experimented much with this before yourself. You are no virgin, but there are still many things you want to experience with Kento for the first time. Bringing your mouth to his ear, you feel him still slightly as you whisper to him.

"Kento."

"My love?"

"Do you like how I feel?"

"I - of course I - "

Your head drops back on the bed, a soft, alluring smile forming on your lips. His eyes are now trained on you, asking a question. You have his complete attention. Good.

"Can you feel how wet I am?"

He exhales sharply.

"Yes."

His fingers are slowly going to work again, rubbing against your sensitive skin, slipping down, making you gasp as he smears wetness over your already soaking labia.

"K - Kento. So good. Making me feel so ... so good."

"I am?"

"Yes. Want you ... hah ... right there, right there - "

"Here?"

"Yes, God, yes."

Your voice is rising, almost uncontrollably, as those large, strong fingers slide against you with greater firmness, circling your clit, pressing down, spreading you, testing the soft give of your entrance.

"Want to feel you, Kento, please."

"Like this?"

Your petals unfold under his touch, one finger breaching into the heated clasp of your walls.

"Just like that, like that - "

"Come here."

His voice is suddenly rough with want, and he tugs you closer, his mouth coming down on your chest again. You clutch at his shoulders as he adds a second finger, working relentlessly, picking up pace inside the wet heat of you. You are now barely aware of the words that leave your mouth, the soft cries, the wanton encouragement.

"Yes, yes, there. Kento, please ... I - making me feel so - "

He releases your nipple with the soft, wet 'pop' of heavy suction, and now his breath is ghosting over your ear.

"Making your pussy feel good, darling?"

Oh. Oh.

Always such a quick student, this wonderful, wonderful man.

"Yes, so good, so good, I - "

You cut off with a small scream as he curls his fingers inside and you stretch wider against the intruding digits. Where the fuck did he learn -

"My love, your pussy's so tight, so sweet - "

"Oh God, yes - "

"Tight, wet little -"

"Ken - Kento - I'm - "

"Squeezing me so much - "

He is panting as hard as you are now, head dipping down between the litany of his praises to take your nipples roughly into his burning mouth, watching them glisten with his saliva as your back arches high off the bed, your trembling thighs spreading wider apart.

Something white hot is building in your abdomen, between the rhythmic press of his fingers and the added stimulation of his lips. Your clit feels raw, each brush electric, a steady, throbbing pulse that is dragging all of your awareness down, down, to the blossoming between your legs that is now completely under his control.

"I - Kentooo - I'm - "

"That's it. Oh darling, so - you're getting so much ... tighter, I can feel - God, come for me, angel. Come for me. Come with this beautiful pussy, I - want - "

His own words are slightly slurred now, but you can no longer keep your eyes open, no matter how badly you want to see him right then. The peak he is building you to is frightening, a complete loss of control, your hands slipping on a steering wheel, careening of a cliff, that sudden weightless drop you feel when you're asleep, your body taut and shuddering, and -

Your orgasm punches the air out of your chest, diaphragm struggling to keep up with the demand of your lungs. The room around you, the bed beneath you, ceases to exist for a minute, the intensity of the pleasure reverberating all the way to the curl of your toes against the mattress. Your neck feels damp with perspiration, your fingers digging into the mattress above your head, clawed and desperate.

After a minute, you begin to regain your senses, one by one, sound and touch returning before your eyes blearily open to take in the man who's gently bringing you down from those dizzying heights. His hands are now gliding over you, grounding you as he soothingly brushes over your sides, hips, thighs.

You are aware that your throat feels scratchy, your fingers stiff from where they have been clutching the eiderdown. Your breathing is ragged, and sweat is cooling in the valley between your breasts, along with the remnants of his saliva. You realise, with horrifying immediacy, that there is dampness, not just at the corners of your eyes, but collecting at the side of your mouth. As much as you started off feeling confident, you hadn't expected him to reduce you to an embarrassing, drooling, babbling mess with just his fingers.

Your shame is quickly forgotten, though, when you see the tenderness with which he looks at you. Those same fingers that were mercilessly grinding inside you a few minutes ago come up, toward his lips, and no, was he -

Oh, those eyes of his, honey-brown in this light, more alive and softer than you'd ever seen them. His gaze never leaves your face as he takes those digits into his mouth, tasting you, then slowly reaches across and traces your lips. He is still watching as your mouth opens obediently and you graze your teeth languidly over him, tongue swirling around his knuckles.

"Good girl. So beautiful when you come."

You almost lose your hold over reality a second time when he leans forward and laps up the excess moisture that has slipped from the corner of your mouth, a groan rumbling through his chest.

Throughout it all, he had been so focused on giving you pleasure, he had drawn your attention completely away from his own needs. You chide yourself for being so selfish as you glance down, between your bodies and note that he still has his underwear on.

Making a small noise of protest, you lift yourself, having recovered enough to move.

Hands still trembling slightly, you place your palms against his chest, pushing him down on his back. He is clearly pent up, his erection tenting hard against the tight fabric. In spite of the fact that you've just orgasmed, you feel a surprising pulse of arousal at the sight of him.

"Kento ... here, let me."

Biting your lip, you glance at him from under your lashes, spying the infinite hunger with which he watches you. Taking that as permission, you hook your fingers into the waistband of the briefs and pull them away from his body, then down, careful not to jostle his erection. The privilege of stimulus is solely for you; you want him just as delirious with pleasure as you have been.

He catches his breath lightly as the air hits his exposed flesh, and you sit back on your heels momentarily, to take in the image of him. The ridged planes of his abdomen form a wide, clear cut 'V', the darker blonde hair trailing down to the trimmed tuft around the base of his cock. He is curved, thick, a slight turn to the right at the tip, the smooth flesh red and painfully engorged, veins standing out along the length.

You have never seen anything more delicious.

Previous experiences have left you feeling lukewarm about giving pleasure orally, but you want to taste Kento so badly you have to squeeze your knees slightly together. The way you're looking at him is obviously having the desired effect because the swollen head is now touching his belly and he lets out a sharp grunt as you lean forward, his cock twitching slightly as you trail your hands up his thighs. The short, coarse blonde hairs catch between your fingers, the planes of muscle hard and tense.

You lower your head and press kisses softly where your hands pass, the trembling in your own legs a reminder of the pleasure you want to give him. Kento's eyes glaze over slightly, and you've never seen him quite like this before, spread out before you like the choicest buffet, the powerful body that was always so tightly controlled under that suit coming undone beneath you. He is breathing heavily, the skin of his face flushed, trying desperately to keep his gaze fixed on you and what you are doing to him.

You touch him, fingers wrapping around the base of his shaft, squeezing, testing, and a groan tears from the back of his throat, the longing in that single sound an indication of just how much he's holding back. Always in control, even to the point of submitting to your own desires.

You have patience. You can wait until that changes.

Pearly fluid glistens at his tip, squeezing out further under the soft ministrations of your hand. You taste him; he is slightly salty, musky. The scent pulls a hazy veil down over your mind, and now you are operating on pure instinct. Taking him into your mouth, you press him into the inside of one cheek, watching his head flop back on the mattress, his hand sliding down to the back of your neck. Eyes closed, Adam's apple bobbing with each breathy attempt to regain control, he is the most magnificent feast you have ever had the fortune to behold.

You slide him out, until just the tip remains between your lips, then press him back in. Your pace is slow, allowing him to adjust to the heat of your mouth. The muscles of Kento's thighs clench every time you bob forward. You pause in between to lick him gently from base to tip. The flush has now spread to his chest, sweat glistening on his forehead and the swell and dip on either side of his peaked brown nipples. His deep groans have turned into a soft chant of your praises, spurring you on even more.

"Oh God, please, darling ... just - ah - just, there. Yes. Yes. Your mouth ... ngh ... so sweet. Fucking heavenly. Fuck, I'm - please. Don't stop. Don't. Yes."

Hearing him curse like this for the first time sends a bolt of electricity straight down the front of your body, and you moan around his cock, the vibrations causing him to jerk spasmodically under you. The sweet, filthy encouragement, the hardening grip of his hand on the base of your neck, just below the hairline, is filling you with a sense of elation.

You are doing this to him.

You slip him out of your mouth, rubbing the silky, glistening shaft, then place one hand on his inner thigh, pushing. He glances down, spreading his legs further apart, but slowly, as if not sure why you're requesting it. You run your hand down, to the base, but don't stop there, gently cupping the soft flesh of his sac. He hisses and raises his head, meeting the question in your gaze.

"I - sweetheart, I'll - "

"I know."

"I know, Kento. But I want it. Want you to come in my mouth."

Your keep your voice low, sultry, your fingers stroking him with slow, steady firmness.

The words ignite some kind of inferno behind his eyes, and he props himself on his elbows, gulping before giving you a small nod. You smile and dip your head once more, circling with your tongue, feeling the roll of his testicles within the loose outer skin. You take one into your mouth, suckling with care, and the sound he makes, somewhere between growl and a yelp makes you want to build a little pillow fortress and live between his legs forever.

You alternate between sucking his tip and gently teasing his sac, stroking his length firmly all the while. He is growing hotter, harder inside your fist, twitching now and then, the opaque essence leaking out into your hand. The slick, wet sound of your stroking is building another fire between your own legs, one you'll neglect for now in favour of giving him your full focus.

And God, you never want to look away.

He has now fallen back, unable to support himself on his elbows any longer. One arm extends outwards, fingers grasping the edge of the bed as if his life depends on it. His expression is almost the same as when you kissed for the first time, slightly pained, ecstatic, head pushing back into the mattress. He is much louder now, the sounds he makes gruff and almost animalistic. It turns you on no end to know that Kento, your Kento, the man who lives by professionalism and propriety, is here, with his cock in your mouth, bucking his hips into your face like he can never get enough.

You speed up your strokes, careful to grip him tightly enough such that he doesn't slip out of your palm. You slide a hand under him, marvelling at the sheer muscle that forms his perfect buttocks, and he cries out, hips lifting right off the bed as he twitches, harder than ever, within your grasp. A flood of earthy warmth is suddenly on your tongue and Kento's entire body spasms, muscles tauter than piano wire under your hands. His mouth is wide open, nothing but throaty, half-formed groans emerging. You keep still, allowing him to spend himself, before tilting back your head and swallowing his viscosity, wiping off the underside of your lip.

He slumps heavily back on the bed, and you sit up slowly, watching as a few translucent strands of semen droop from the head of his cock, settling on his stomach. You lean forward and clean him, his warm abdomen clenching under your tongue. He strokes your hair, drawing your head away and you crawl up the bed, making your way to his side.

Kento is looking at you as if you are the last earthly delight he will experience in his lifetime, his cheeks ruddy, strands of gold darkened by sweat sticking to his forehead. He reaches for you with slightly shaky arms, and you curl up into his side, head tucked between his armpit and chest. He is too spent to do much, besides wrap and arm securely around you, his breathing gradually slowing to a more even pace.

His embrace, the heat of his body beside you, the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your hand is so comforting that you must have fallen into a light doze, because a short while later he is tracing shapes on your back gently, whispering to you to wake up.

"Love. Don't you want to get cleaned up?"

You nod, stretching luxuriously, and he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, placing soft kisses there, and then on your temple. You sit up and he is watching you closely, a slight uncertainty in his posture that makes you take pause. You cup his face between your palms.

"Kento? Everything all right?"

He shifts slightly before clearing his throat.

"I ... well. I haven't had much in the way of ... I mean to say ... was it ... "

Dear God.

"Kento. It was not too much. It was perfect."

He pauses, the muscles of his shoulders losing some of their tension, and a small smile creeps across his face, devastatingly sweet and shy. He slowly eases you to the edge of the bed.

"I see."

"Are you really the same man who asked me if my pussy felt good?"

Kento's head whips around so fast you thought he'd damage a tendon. His expression makes something vast and tender well up in your chest, bursting from your lips in a violent sputter of laughter. He grabs you by the hips, not too tenderly this time, nipping slightly at your ear in reprimand.

"You are a cruel, cruel woman."

"Am I going to be punished, do you think?"

"Very harshly."

His grasp on you is rapidly stirring something else between your bodies, something you had no idea you would be capable of feeling, considering the earth-shattering orgasm he'd given you a short while before.

You stand, and his eyes travel the length of your body, lingering on the curved length of your spine and lower, taking you in with the kind of regard that was far from the gentlemanly nature of his everyday self.

"Are you coming, Kento?"

"I most certainly am."

Your laugh becomes breathy as he rises and wraps his arms around you from behind, a more intimate echo of the way he'd taken you to bed earlier. You speak into the charged silence.

"I thought you were concerned about me going to work tomorrow?"

"I was."

"And now?"

"You said you were going to take it easy at work."

"And that means ... "

His lips are now planting themselves along your shoulder, and he pauses between kisses to whisper to you, voice husky and alight with desire.

"That means you're going to accommodate me, my darling."

"Accommodate you where, Kento?"

"You know where."

"My kitchen, perhaps?"

His soft chuckle stirs the hairs at the base of your neck. His kisses turn to soft bites that make you gasp.

"We needed to get cleaned up," you reprimand him.

Your heart really isn't in it, though. Not when his hands are sliding down your thighs.

"We will."

"You're not helping. Kitchens are delicate areas, you know."

"You're right, love. After all, I've only set foot in yours. And I intend to use every part of your kitchen. Very, very thoroughly."

@tsukimefuku @g-kleran @kentocalls @actuallysaiyan

[pseudowho]

"Yuuji-- if you don't mind, can I ask you something?"

Yuuji looked up from his phone, feeling so grown up to be in the Jujutsu High staffroom with Kento. He raised his eyebrows, the scar across his lip tugging up.

"Uh...yeah, sure. Go crazy."

"What is scary dog privilege, exactly?"

"Scary dog privilege? Huh, well...let's see, uhm...so it's like..."

Yuuji explained, all peaches and wide eyes and animated hands. Kento nodded occasionally, listening intently. His mind, naturally, strayed to you; you were what this was all about, after all.

As with any thought of you (you being his blossoming latent obsession), Kento's stomach flipped, his grip tightening fractionally around his coffee.

Kento remembered.

He remembered when he dropped you home. You checked over your shoulder, again, and again, and again, before you unlocked your door and hurried inside.

He remembered how he had once walked up behind you without much thought, and you spun with panic in your eyes. Kento recalled how quickly you had relaxed, to see it was him, and how high his hope climbed as a result.

He remembered how you had spilled the contents of your bag. You snatched your pepper spray up in the hope that his keen eyes had missed it.

He remembered how you headed to the subway after a staff night out. Your keys had been curiously gripped between your fingers, a weapon that wasn't a weapon.

He remembered, how just the day before, he and you had walked together through central Tokyo to get lunch. You had sat on a park bench together, and Kento had been so overwhelmed by the need to hold it together, Kento, keep it together, that he barely registered the relief written on your skin.

You had eaten in comfortable silence, then leaned over to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek on the way to the bins.

"Thanks for the scary dog privilege, Kento. It's the first time in a long time that I've relaxed in public."

Kento's eyes had drifted closed for just a few moments too long, with the warmth of your lips on his skin, and he stuttered, fumbling, unlike himself.

"Ah...scary...dog privilege?" He asked, quiet. But you were already gone; throwing your crumbs to the ducks.

Yuuji's voice snapped Kento out of memory, and back to the staffroom.

"Dunno if that makes sense, Nanamin?"

A molten pit of spite and rage ignited in Kento once he put two and two together. Scary dog privilege. He gave you scary dog privilege. Why was walking the streets in safety a privilege? Shit. Kento kept his voice level, patting Yuuji on the shoulder as he left, his steaming coffee abandoned.

"Thank you, Yuuji. Stay safe out there this afternoon, and call me when you're finished, please."

If Kento hadn't already felt dirty enough with the knowledge that he pleasured himself to thoughts of you every night, he felt worse, now. He stalked through the corridors of Jujutsu High, calling Ijichi, calling Shoko, determined to find you.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Once you noticed how one man's gaze lingered on you, you noticed them all. To you, almost all seemed to do it, and to every woman, be they 18 or 80, tall or short or curvy or lithe or gay or straight or anywhere in between. Then, when you began to notice the gazes on 16 year olds, or 12 year olds, or--

You had nauseated by the time you turned the corner to grab lunch. Simultaneously built up and dragged down and accused, you were a madonna and a whore and a bitch. You wondered, vaguely, how deeply, how incurably the disease ran, as you entered the bustling café. You didn't want to think about it. You'd just grab food, and go, and--

"Ah. Good afternoon."

You blinked, to see Kento before you in the queue, and felt a warm burst of joy from your tummy to your toes.

"Kento, I'm...happier than you know, to see you, actually."

A satisfied hum. "I had a feeling you might be. Now...about something you said yesterday...."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Nanami Kento didn't immediately strike one as a scary dog. He was built, yes, but his suits hid it well, and he was only a little taller than average, and really quite mild, but--

-- oh.

The way his glares could frost a soul. The way other men bounced off him, a stone wall, when a shoulder 'accidentally' hit his. The way his eyes found wayward gazes like a sniper, with the dulcet loading of a bullet behind his sneer. The silent commanding respect. The dares that other men would not dare.

It was no wonder, then, how you and Kento, became you and Shoko and Kento, became you and Shoko and Maki and Nobara and Kento. While individually able to fight your own fights, feeling Kento's scary dog privilege melt threats with acid, was a burden blissfully relieved.

With Kento's protective Midas' touch, your daily lunches turned to gold, unsullied and unmolested. Still...he was there for the whole group.

So why, then, in such a large group, did you look up to find his gaze on you, and only you? How could his eyes caress without staring? It was sorcery, surely.

Kento sequestered you one day, throwing his crumbs to the ducks alongside yours, as the others chatted on the benches behind you. You looked up, shooting him a sideways smile, and wondering how you could ever be good enough for him. He spoke quietly.

"I always believed a dog to have just one owner."

You felt your stomach twist with insinuation. You laid the thread.

"...oh?"

"And while I'm happy to offer my privileges to the benefit of a group, I...would like to be in the position to make such a privilege exclusive."

You swallowed hard, looking sideways again with hope against hope against hope against--

"Are you...saying you'd like to be my scary dog?"

"Very, very much so."