#nanami x male

[7amsunflw3r]

your favorite part of the day was coming home.

home, where the ridicules of work and friendships couldn’t bother you for a second of your time. it was a place of comfort. your true dwelling, a place that smelt like you, felt like you.

home, where your husband stayed and waited for you to return.

turning the key in the lock, you finally entered your home, the silence that overtook your ears calming your heart. you slipped off his jacket, it falling to a floor with a soft thud. you kicked off your dress shoes, now comfortable in your button up and loose slacks.

the top two buttons of your shirt came undone by your fingers as you looked for kento, a soft pit in your stomach still not releasing. it wouldn’t release until kento came into your gaze.

opening the door to your shared bedroom, you let out a hidden sigh. kento’s body rested on the bed, his chest rising and falling softly under the covers he was tucked in.

walking over, you plopped onto the bed, shrugging off your shirt in laziness before tucking yourself under the covers next to kento.

life was stressful. your 9 to 5 was the worse, the office full of low grade spirits sprouting from people’s misery. kento had finally escaped that life he so miserably hated. he now got to do what he wished with his days, relying on you to provide for the family. you loved that he trusted you like this.

you started to drift off, a soft peck on the head and a mumble waking you up. “welcome back love…” kento sighed, your shoulder’s loosening. “hi baby. how are you-“ your voice trailed off in drowsiness, kento chuckling softly.

“nap love. i’ll be here when you wake up, then we can talk and have dinner.” you let the words control you unconsciously, not able to get a sentence out as you fell into a comfortable slumber.

kento chuckled, rubbing your arms softly. you curled into the action, a warmth spreading through your chest.

love. kento was love.

[hurlingdown]

          ❛ FUCK YOU LIKE . . . AN ANIMAL ?! ❜ — NANAMI KENTO.

synopsis. your husband nanami kento has always secretly prided himself on being the one to tame you. but what happens when you, a fully grown werewolf, gets exposed to the full moon while curse hunting together in an abandoned building? spoilers: you chase, he runs. wc. 2.9k

tags. top werewolf reader, bottom! nanami. reader has a cock. bit of sub top / dom bottom dynamic. monsterfucking, rimming, anal sex, male squirting, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dry orgasm, creampie, knotting, biting, stomach bulge, flavoured lube, praise kink (reader receiving), breeding kink, nanami gets his ass eaten for 2k.

Full moon. That only meant one thing. 

“Kentoo,” you crooned, and it sounded strange with your fangs growing and getting in the way, words forming in low gurgles. “I'm getting bored. Come out and play with me.” 

You could hear his breathing sounds all the way down the hallway: the vague inhale, the hurried exhale. Second or third door to your right, probably under a desk, with his hands clamped over his mouth. He was hiding. From you. 

You could feel your innards metamorphosing, heat boiling low in your core, resisting the urge to rip off all your clothes and bask in the silver light streaming through the broken window that had caused this mess in the first place. Dark grey fur had burst through your skin moments before at first contact with the full moon—your legs bowing back, bones crackling, the rest of your body except for your face shifting into some sort of hybrid between beast and man. 

You gave in to the instinct to hunch over, like a predator stalking prey. And maybe you were. 

“Kento?” you called out, an innocent and curious lilt to your voice, pretending that you didn’t already know his whereabouts. “Are you…” You pushed open the first door to your right, a creak resounding in the abandoned building, a stark contrast to your light and silent footsteps. “Here?” 

Nanami’s breath quickened, and so did his heartbeat. Thump, thump, thump. You wanted to eat him. 

“Kento… come on, it’s not that funny anymore…” you mumbled, the exaggerated pout clear in your voice, retreating from the empty room and slowly making your way to the second door. “I miss you a lot…” 

The second room was also empty. You pretended to sigh despite the excited twitch in your pants as you caught a whiff of his mouth-watering scent, sharp and clean and masculine—not something that alphas would go for typically, but to you, it was ecstasy. You licked your lips in sweet anticipation, sauntering over to the third and final door. 

“There’s no need to hide, y’know… we’d be so good to you.” Half of that was a lie. You were going to press him into the ground and defile him the moment you get your hands on him, submitting to your instincts to mate and breed—if the huge, excited bulge at the front of your trousers wasn’t enough proof of that. “Tell me, are you—” 

You flung the door open. 

“—here?” 

The wind rustled through the half-opened window on the other side, but the room was… empty, to your surprise. Nanami had probably escaped through the same window, but that wasn’t all. Surely enough, lying under a desk near the wall, was your husband’s yellow spotted tie, neatly folded and left in his place to taunt you. 

“Kento,” you growled, displeasure coursing through you, but you bent down to pick up the tie, bringing it up to smother your face, breathing heavily in the lingering scent. Delicious. You would have your revenge. 

You ended up stalking your way back home, following the trail of his scent, cock straining against the fabric of your pants, swollen and heavy and painful, like the rest of your body. You had discarded your shirt somewhere on the road, your body overheating too much to care about being shirtless in public. 

Sweat trickled down your back and shoulders, your scent glands dripping with fragrant oil at the back of your neck. The moon was right behind you, and your awaiting prey was right inside the house before you. You would have him, finally. He would be yours. 

The door was already open when you reached it, the strong, assured scent of your mate safely resting inside your territory making you giddy with pride, a constant subvocal growl ringing at the back of your throat. “Kento…” you warbled, making your way up the stairs towards your shared room. “Ten seconds. And then I’m coming in.” 

“... It’s alright,” a muffled voice said, coughing lightly. “I’ve already… prepared myself.” 

And that was the only green light that you needed. 

You snarled, leaping up the remaining flight of stairs and slamming into the doorframe, the door forcefully bursting open. You could hear his choked-up gasp before you laid your eyes on him. His goggles were removed and lying beside him on the nightstand, and you salivated at the sight of his mostly naked body, blue dress shirt unbuttoned and a breeze away from slipping off the shoulders that you so desperately wanted to sink your teeth into. 

“Mate,” you purred, eyes trained onto his hard, leaking cock against his stomach as you palmed yourself through your pants. “My mate.” 

Nanami visibly swallowed, backing up against the bedframe, his hips lifting slightly to show you the efforts he had made to please you. A pink, puffy asshole, stretched wide enough that you could see the lube trickling out from within. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, leaning his head back to expose his throat, an act of submission that he knew would make you feral. “All yours. Come n’ get me.” 

You growled louder, stalking forward on your hands and knees. 

He feigned composure, despite the fact that you could hear his heart pounding wildly from where you were, the slight hitch in his breath that gave away his fear and uncertainty. Keeping his eye contact with you, he reached between his legs to stroke his cock slowly, pumping pre-cum out. “Oh… yes. Reminds me. Did you bring my tie back?” 

“Yeah,” you murmured, reaching back to pull out his tie from your pocket, albeit it was crumpled and soaked in your drool. He winced at its poor state, taking it from you anyway. 

“Thank you,” he muttered. “... Always so good.” 

You crooned at the praise, climbing onto the bed with little grace and crawling between his parted thighs, immediately nuzzling affectionately into his neck, jaw firmly snapped shut despite your instincts telling you to bite. “... I caught you.” 

“You caught me,” Nanami echoed, looking at you—this version of you—with an expression no less than tender. You were somewhat larger than him, now, and certainly not human, staring down at him with golden, eerie eyes, hungry and strange, and he stared right back into them, unfazed.

All of this was making you hungry. You bared your teeth as you leaned in again, wanting to mark him up as yours already. 

“Later,” he chided, pushing your face away, and then reached over to pull your swollen cock out from your trousers, calloused hands thumbing gently at the tip. “This first.” 

“Okay,” you groaned, the small amount of pleasure already making it hard to focus, warmth stirring in your abdomen. It was funny how you had promised yourself you would ruin him the second he was in your hands, but now that he was, you didn’t even bother to resist his command. “Anything you want.” 

You smiled innocently, and you watched as his gaze softened, features relaxing. 

He let go of you to turn around, knowing that you preferred it when he was presenting as an omega werewolf would, but you grabbed his ankles, grip tight and keeping him in place. “No.” You shook your head, frowning. “I’m not—not fucking any omega. I’m fucking you tonight, Kento.” 

Nanami made an appreciative noise at the back of his throat, almost a whine if you didn’t know any better. “That’s... good. That’s very good,” he says, breathless. “Fuck me, then.” 

You slid your hands up his bare thighs, the tender touch making him shiver, before you cupped the back of his knees, very, very slowly pushing them against his chest until he was one press away from being bent in half. His eyes were sharp, trained onto your every movement, but you could feel the intensity resting within, the heat and desire, the impatience. 

You wanted to play with him, so very badly. 

“What are you—” He let out a choked groan at the first swipe of your tongue against his hole, hand shooting forward to grip the fur at the top of your head tightly. “—hngh.” 

You sucked wetly at his rim, tasting the flavoured lube that you had jokingly got him as an anniversary gift, tangy and disgustingly sweet. Fuck. You were drooling already. 

“Kento,” you whined, burying your face between his asscheeks as your tongue slowly breached and unbreached him, careful not to graze him with your fangs. “Tastes so good. Wanna eat you.” 

What the fuck. Eat him? Did he hear you correctly?  

And he might just be too worked up, but why did it feel thicker and longer than usual? 

“Don’t—lie,” he gasped out, struggling not to rut up against your hot mouth, to take you deeper inside his hole. “I chose the- the worst flavour possible.” 

“It’s you,” you murmured, crooning with delight as his hands moved to spread himself open for you, further exposing his sensitive hole. “You always taste so good, no matter what. You always smell good, too.” 

“You sure talk a lot,” he grits out, stifling a moan. “For someone who promised to fuck me.” 

You bit down a smirk at how subtly eager he was being. “I’ll get to that, don’t worry. Just—this first. Please?” He scowled at the fact that you were using his words against him so sweetly, but he relented silently, pushing his hips towards your face as you slid a pillow under the small of his back, immediately returning to stretching him open with your tongue.  

“Oh—” 

His lips parted to let out a deep, sexy groan as you jabbed at his prostate, not once, but twice, and you kept going, enjoying the sight of your mate falling apart.

“Fuck.” His thighs were trembling, his head thrown back at the intense pleasure, because no, you weren’t just eating him out, you were making out with his fucking asshole. Every lick and probe of your thick, thick tongue made stars explode before his eyes in the most insane way possible, touching him in places inside him that even he didn’t know existed. 

That insatiable tongue of yours. Nanami couldn’t decide if he hated or loved it more. It was making these obscene squelching noises, with all the lube and saliva being pushed further into his hole with every wet thrust, making room for more. It didn’t help that you were a messy eater, smearing drool all over his ass and thighs, looking at him with such hunger that made him dizzy with desire. 

My husband, who is a werewolf… is eating me out. 

Nanami grabs his cock hurriedly, pumping it quick enough to chafe if it weren’t for pre continuously dribbling down the side of it, crying out hoarsely as one clawed finger rubbed on a specific spot on his perineum, stimulating his prostate from both ends. 

“Haah, fuck, please—” he cried out, grip on your fur now tight enough that you could almost feel the strands being ripped from their roots. He couldn't wait anymore, he needed you now, and preferably inside him. “Fuck me. I said it. Please.” 

To his absolute horror, you only growled into his hole in response, ignoring his pleas, too lost in the feeling of it clenching repeatedly around your tongue. The squelching sounds grew louder as you slurped him frantically. Everything he did only spurred you on, and you grabbed onto his hips with your claws to dig deeper. 

“Ahh—haah, shit!” Nanami’s breath was laboured and shaky, eyes squeezed shut as he could do nothing but take you and everything else that you had to give him. “Please, sweetheart, feels too good... I’m gonna—ah, gonna cum, but I don’t want it t-to end like this, please. Want you inside me, not like this…” 

He can’t possibly keep going, it’s not possible. He must be tired of it now, and even if not, his jaw should be—

He was shivering as the pleasure bordered on painful overstimulation, tears gathering in his eyes as he grabbed the base of his cock—fighting with everything not to cum, even as you snarled against his hole in sharp disapproval, showing your fangs. “No—listen to me—hnngh. Th-thought you were gonna give me—anything I wanted. Let me- let me make you feel good, too. D-don’t you want to knot me?” 

Of course you wanted to knot him, keep him lodged on your cock for hours, days, for as long as he allowed you to. Breed him full of your puppies, even—make him carry them. But if he was using a brainless assumption like you not feeling any pleasure as a reason for you to stop, then he would have to try harder. 

You forced your entire tongue inside his tight rim, as deep as you could reach, rubbing firm clockwise circles into his perineum.

Nanami was letting out a stream of the most unholy noises you had ever heard, whimpering lewdly as he could feel the cum bursting past the tight restriction his hand had formed around his cock. “Gonna cum—” he choked out, back arching and toes curling as he crammed his thighs hard around your head, your fangs digging into skin—making you see stars. “Oh, fuuuuck—” 

He screamed out hoarsely as he came with violence, cock squirting everywhere, thick watery spurts painting his abdomen and both of your chests, with a few stray drops splattering onto his face and collarbones. You reached a hand out to hastily jerk him off while continuing to knead your tongue insistently on his sweet spot, wanting to milk his orgasm to the fullest—and he let out a dry, pathetic sob, orgasming for a second time, legs jerking as cum dribbled out from his spent cock. 

He pushed a hand onto your face, shivering and shaking his head. 

“F-fuck, puppy, no more.” 

You pulled your tongue out from his hole as you panted, making him whine breathily at the sudden emptiness. The slip of his nickname for you had barely registered in your head, your eyes immediately zeroing in on his plump, heaving chest, now decorated with strips of his release. Almost as if you were possessed, you leaned down, drooling as you pressed fang-shaped hickeys into his muscled pecs while eagerly licking up his squirt and cum. 

It was sweet. All of Kento was sweet, and you wanted more.

Nanami shuddered helplessly as you grazed his nipple with your sharp teeth before running your tongue over the abused nub, as though to apologise. This was… okay. It felt good, in a strange way. Soothing, even, especially after what you had done to him. That violent hunger, that insatiability. You were relentless. 

But before he knew it, there was something thick and hard rubbing on his swollen entrance, something way too big to be considering intrusion. 

“You said you’d let me knot you,” you mumbled, “Kento.” 

He bit down a shudder, fighting down a wave of panic. “No. No, I didn’t say that—don’t twist my words. I asked if you wanted to knot me. Before I came.” 

“Same thing,” you said, already pushing in—and he let out a barely audible cry, voice completely wrecked from all the begging earlier. “You said you want t-to make me feel good, right?” 

“Yes, b-but that was then. It’s too- too sensitive now, at least give me some time—” 

You groaned loudly as you bullied your way in with one strong thrust, burying yourself to the hilt inside his warm hole as his walls spasmed and tightened around you. “That’s more like it.” 

Nanami was wrecked. 

Tears were spilling down his cheeks, soft, overstimulated whimpers spilling out from parted lips as his cock twitched uselessly, trapped between you and the swell of his stomach. 

“You… really don’t listen, do you…” 

“Sorry,” you murmured, nuzzling his neck in apology. You didn’t sound sorry at all, and you knew it. 

You gave a shallow, experimental thrust, the base of your cock already swelling heavily with knot, all worked up from all the noises your mate was making earlier. “Kento…” you moaned, sharp claws digging into his meaty thighs as you knot-fucked him deeper, making him take you all the way. “You’re making me feel so good…” 

Seconds turned into minutes and minutes turned into what seemed like hours of you fucking him into the mattress, wringing orgasm out of orgasm out of him as you fucked him through all three of your knots, each one bigger than the last.

He gave a feeble moan as your hips finally stuttered to a stop, letting your final knot catch. There was a bulge visible over his abdomen as you filled him up with the warmth of your seed, groaning loudly, and Nanami let out a soundless whine in return, hips bucking weakly as his cock jumped, no longer able to cum.

You grinned dopily, feeling pride surge through your chest. You were the one who had made him like this. 

You were tired, and he was exhausted. The both of you were panting heavily, but it didn’t stop you from taking one long look at your mate, your husband, and feeling a surge of want, no, need—to kiss him. His tired eyes, his sharp cheekbones, his soft lips, all of it—fanged and brutal and loving. 

Nanami’s trembling hand reached over to grasp your clawed one, entwining it with his in an intimate gesture. You watched carefully as he brought it to his face and gently pressed your ringed finger to his lips, eyes screaming out to you with an affection so intense it almost made you forget how to breathe. Take what you want, they were saying. Take what you want from me, and I’ll give you all that’s left. 

Golden eyes gleaming in the dark, you returned his gaze with a similar one of your own. 

kinktober masterlist! masterlist!

[rodolfoparras]

18+ MDNI 18+

Thinking about having a good ol dick measuring contest with your very much straight friend, having him claim “it’s not a big deal every guy does it “ while having his ears burn, and fingers shake as he whips out his dick for you, hearing him uttering a choked fuck as your dicks stand side by side, and you can’t help but mindlessly comment on how much smaller he is while you’re shamelessly gauging his dick, not even noticing how weak he gets at the knees with each word that escapes your lips, even more so when you daringly cup his small cock, even going as far as to teasingly flick his tip

“what do you plan on doing with that eh?” You say with a small laugh, sounding as if you couldn’t ever imagine him using his dick. “Bet the girls don’t even cum when you fuck them,”

Instead of feeling hurt he can’t help but be turned on by your words and for a brief moment he thinks he’s gone insane because what straight man gets turned on by another man scrutinizing his dick “don’t - ah don’t say that, man, you don’t know shit ”

Between the exchange of words your hand finds its way to his balls and gently fondles them “no I’m being serious, can’t imagine a girl finishing like this, are you even hard hm?” you say sounding oblivious as ever as if he’s not standing there with his eyes squeezed shut, weeping at the tip, cock throbbing and ready to burst from just a little caressing.

Before he can utter a response you slap your dick over his, causing the other man to jerk in place as a loud gasps escapes his lips. “Hah fuck!”

“Christ look at this, can’t even see it no more,” You say, through a breathy laugh, gaze locked on the space between your bodies.

Upon looking down he’s met with the sight of your cock completely engulfing his, can feel the warmth of your skin seeping into him, even feels you weighting him down and if he wasn’t about to pass about from that alone he sure will when you start stroking your dicks”Hey, hey - what ah - what are you doing?”

“Come on it’s not a big deal, all guys do it,” you drawl out as you set a steady pace with your hand “I’ll even make you cum I promise,besides I don’t think it’ll be much of a challenge”

[sleep-0-deprived]

Hands on my knees ~

Men who love it when you give messy blow jobs, just holding your head up by your scalp or pulling on your hair as you drool rolling your eyes forward making eye contact as their cock keeps your mouth too full to talk leaving you just gurgling mindlessly.

Men who hold one leg up fucking you in your bed putting their fingers in your mouth making you choke and suck on them as they snap their hips forward making your body jerk with each thrusts as you lay all fucked out and lewd.

Men who bend you over their knee fingering you harshly over and over rubbing up agaisnt your prostate milking it as they keep holding you bent by the arch of your back until you cum all over yourself.

Men who hold their face in your neck grunting in your ear whispering lewd words about how good you feel around them and how they wanna stay inside you forever, holding your body close skin to skin with you under them as they fuck you senseless.

Men who are silently great with after care despite them being so rough with you in the bed, clawing all the cum off you washing up the bed sheets bringing you pain killers if you need them, outside of sex they are total sweethearts and no one would ever think them to do such dirty things to you.

—Nanami, Kunikida, Toji, Sukuna, Jotaro, Zoro, crocodile, Uzui, Gojo, Geto, Bram, Choso

[dorkszn]

𝓕𝓡𝓔𝓐𝓚𝓨 𝓞𝓝 𝓒𝓐𝓜𝓔𝓡𝓐

𝓋ℴ𝓁. 𝓉𝓌ℴ / 𝒾𝓈𝓈𝓊ℯ. 𝓀ℯ𝓃𝓉ℴ 𝓃𝒶𝓃𝒶𝓂𝒾

twitter p links ! / male & female reader ! / vol. three !

01. quickies with co-worker!nanami (male reader)

02. morning sex (male reader)

03. nami gets a little rough sometimes (male reader)

04. sugar daddy!nami (male reader)

05. slight rough sex with nami prt. 2 (fem reader)

06. nanami is a hair puller (fem reader)

07. your first time with nami (fem reader)

08. riding sugar daddy!nami (male reader)

09. he missed you (fem reader)

[kunazz]

THINKING ABOUT….jjk men giving you head. they all just can’t get enough, dropping to their knees whenever they have the chance just to take in their mouth, gagging and slobbering all over your length.

i think gojo would be the type to push you into a bathroom stall, not caring about who’s around, he’s already undoing your belt anyways, he’s just too needy, and he needs to feel the weight of your cock on his tongue before he goes insane.

suguru would have a little bit more decency, he doesn’t like people watching, he thinks that you’re too perfect for those monkeys to lay their eyes upon, especially when your face scrunches up just when you’re about to cum. he’d most likely suck you off in your car.

nanami would be the type to appear as though he’s more ‘classy’ and ‘respectable’ but he really isn’t. you’re in the library for something? he’s already on his knees under the table; you’re making food in the kitchen? let him suck your cock whilst you’re mixing whatever it is you’re making. he’ll quite literally drop to his knees anywhere, you don’t have to ask.

sukuna would make you work for it a little, he’d start by palming you under the table when you’re having dinner with friends, he’ll work you up all night until you break and start begging for his mouth, say you’re desperate — that you might die if you don’t have his lips around your cock in two seconds. that’ll get him dropping to his knees, he’ll definitely suck you off wherever he pleases, he doesn’t really care, but he likes doing it in alleyways more, it makes him feel like a cheap slut — but he won’t admit that to you.

mahito loves giving you blow jobs. no seriously it’s become an addiction, he doesn’t care what you’re doing, even if you’re driving he’ll slowly run his hand up your thigh, feigning innocence before he breaks, and finally sinks lower to suck you off. he’s the definition of a cockslut.

[dabisbratz]

𝑀𝐸𝑅𝐼𝒩𝒢𝒰𝐸 𝒟𝒪𝐿𝐿 — kento nanami x male!reader

himbo!reader , farmer!au , strangers/friends/lovers , meet - cute , inaccurate farming techniques , lawyer!nanami , slow burn , depictions of injury ( minor burns ) , check - ins , dumbification , vaguely implied age gap (~5 years) , hand kink , inexperienced reader , light feminization , blowjobs , anal , mating press , fingering , hand-holding , praise , degradation , slut - calling , dirty talk , spit / drool , under-negotiated kink , aftercare

w.c; ~ 13.8k

sonny says. . . naaamiiii !!! {cry} {cry} mbaby :c can ybelieve s’is mfirst nami fic ?!?! just tbe clear, the reader’s size or height isn’t explicitly stated, but he’s vaguely hinted toward bein/appearin physical stronger than nanami.

‘ Next stop: Sekichiku ’

When he wakes up, Kento expects sunlight peeking through greenery— warm, yellow rays of light that dance and flicker across his eyelids. Warm, yellow beams that caress his cheek like the knuckles of someone tender, the palms of someone sweeter. It’ll overwhelm him at first, so bright and unapologetic as his eyes adjust and focus, but he’ll quickly crash, pupils constricting as the disturbance dwindles. And, suddenly, the star’s saturation will be comforting. It’ll be like a second. Just slower paced, peaceful. He expects the rustle of leaves, connected to strong branches and even stronger roots that dig into deep, rich soil. He expects to roll over in his temporary bed, breathing gently beneath shade, shielding his eyes from the welcoming invasion and blanketing him in a seamless flow of cool air.

When he wakes, Kento expects to hear the chirping of birds. It’s never quite enough to hear them in Tokyo. The strum of wind as it tickles his nose and pushes him forward. The swaying of grass— the smell is still so freshly imprinted in his brain, as it makes his head swim while crystal drops glide across its surface — a coarse underfoot of greenery that prickles the souls of his feet.

Tranquility by his side, urging him to get out of bed, chirping in an excited voice as it tugs on his wrist. He expects solitude, rolling its tangerine eyes and tapping its foot impatiently, “This is the break you’ve waited twenty-seven years for.”

But, instead, he finds himself clutching his chest, his heart beating with an unfamiliar pace that isn’t so calm. His body feels cold, like he’s been submerged in the deepest part of the ocean, unrelenting and ruthless as wave after wave crashes into his ribcage. The static in his ears grows louder and louder, ready to combust and burst his eardrums. Instead of the rustle of leaves, the cruel hustle and bustle of city life storms forward against his chest, shoving him back and forth. Back and forth, to and fro, against his body as his knuckles turn white and his vision starts to spot. Back and forth, as he comes undone.

It’s been so long, he’s not quite sure just how to unwind.

He starts off slow, swallowing air in desperate heaps until his legs relax, spreading toward the cushion arms of his faux-velvet chair. Then he flexes his fingers, draws them into tight fists and releases the digits until the shaking has stopped. Sips his complimentary white-wine with newfound steadiness, and tries not to choke when the intercoms ring,

‘Now approaching: Sekichiku.’

It’s a quaint little village, your district, where everyone knows everyone and the news is always, no matter where you are, city-wide. Stone-clad pavement and moss decalled windows, there’s a small blanket of achroous fog further north of town square. Yet, despite that, there’s an ever growing city of greenery and agriculture. With a small population and himself being the only passenger to unload at the station, it seems to be a lot busier than he’d originally thought. Street-food stalls and vendors, selling freshly baked goods and syrupy, savory sweets. It’s not like Tokyo, no, there’s no rush. No pushing or shoving, no overcrowded lines, no smells of smoke and burnt coal.

In fact, the air is rather crisp— the further his legs take him, the more apparent. No longer are his lungs breathing in the stench of sickness or body odors, no longer is he pushing past the fortunate, just to shove the unfortunate. And, admittedly, it’s a bit of a culture shock— but it’s not unwelcome. Regardless, Kento keeps his suitcase close, pushes it forward, sidestepping polite smiles and local shop owners.

He basks in it. The genuine nature to it all, the healthy glow of the atmosphere despite the steam, the fog, the chill to the air. He considers this a luxury— the closest to a vacation he’ll get, even if he’s technically ‘on the clock.’ Still— he soaks in the sights of hugging trees, of mossy roads and cobblestone streets. The colorful banners that jump with life, the lanterns and yellow-lighting that illuminates the day— he’s sure at night they’re even more wondrous. And, oh, the smells. Not at all like tokyo— there isn’t an overwhelming mixture of perfumes and colognes, no fast-food chains competing through aromatic smells, no heavy scents of tobacco littering the air. It's crisp, it’s ripe.

He almost takes no offense to the collision against his side— nor the screeching sound of surfaces grinding against each other, nor the loud and abrasive cry of the man bumping into him, accompanied by the crack of an apple’s core against the ground.

“Woah,” Warm breaths pan down the base of his neck, even warmer hands wrapping around his bicep with strength Nanami is sure shouldn’t be normal for a typical, everyday civilian. He involuntarily grunts, a deep sound that rumbles in his throat and earns an eager, yet apologetic chuckle. “You alright? Y’almost went flyin’!”

His brows furrow quizzically at that. First— he’s certain it’s the latter who nearly lost an arm and a leg with his tumble. Second, he hadn’t expected such a youthful, bouncy voice from the very stature shadowing acast him. Not even a bit, it doesn’t match the muscle straining through thermal clothing at all, let alone the sheer square feet of area being taken up by one person. Blocking his vision almost completely, standing straight— at an angle— that blocks a stall for fresh produce and flaky, steaming bread. The goods speak for themselves, crusted over in golden brown mountains and cloud-like, moist cross-sections.

Swallowing, Kento nods, eyeing the poorly drawn sign for fresh bread. Drawn in sharpie, the prices are written in big, bold, red letters. Endearing, almost, the curve and loop of each letter and number— the lines of each to-scale doodle of bread. Nothing like Tokyo, not nearly as artificial, not perfectly clean-cut. Not so cookie-cutter. There’s some personality in it, as juvenile as it may be. And it’s a shame, really, how promising the stand looks. Apples that shine a golden shade of red, bread that’s glazed in a sweet, sticky layer of yellow molasses and savory honey. And though he’d love to indulge, Kento has yet to label himself as the type. “Great, thank you.” Is all he says, pulling his suitcase along the perimeter of the stand.

Some other time, then.

The days are long as they are hard. The sun has yet to fully set, and still, the Earth pulls and pulls to weigh it down onto your shoulders. The sky is painted in hues of orange and purple, strokes of tangerine and lavender roaming past your bird's eye view. Your back pops as you stretch, arms tensing against the woven basket of leftover harvest, shiny red fruits aligned with the horizon and reaching toward the tiny glimpse of departing stars.

Where blossoms grow from tiny seeds, and orchids dance in gentle breeze— beds upon beds of farmland and agriculture drape the outskirts of the farmstead. Though the weather is turning, branches are starting to grow bare and bloom in color, the wind picks up its seasonal chill, and the clouds have begun to dissipate into the sky. . . The well-received proof of your hard work is still something to behold.

“—ome any minute, now,” You’ve heard it all before, your mother gossiping to her farmer-wife friends as she nurses sweet teas and tangerine tiramisu under her calloused, warm hands. You’d been a mere two steps away from where she sits at the open-island kitchen, shoes tipped in the illuminated speckle of celadon clearing just adjacent to the sliding, front, cedarwood door. “Said so, at least. Did you hear. . . ” Windchimes sing in welcome, soft and mellow as the door opens and shuts behind you, socked feet slipping from boots to warm, fuzzy slippers.

“M’back, Mama,” You mumble, half-humming along to the tune of muffled windchimes the further you walk, arms hoisting the overflowing basket up to your chest. A sweet sigh, then pitter-patter of fleece against parquetry, and the discovery of a sweet, cherry-red ladybug walking along your knuckles, leads to the basket securely placed on a free countertop. There’s a quirk of her brow, something of a gentle question— more of a suggestion— not completely committed to keeping two conversations at once. How’d it go?

“No luck sellin’ today,” your voice buds, small and soft as your eyes trail the curves of a particularly large waste of an apple. An evident pout on your lips, then a quiet huff of air.

Farming has been your whole life, really. It’s what you’re best at, good at. Ever since you were young, barely tall enough to push away tall-grass— barely strong enough to pull out weeds, you knew it was yours. Something special, gravel crumbling and breaking beneath heavy, solid boots and rubber tires. The remnants of small, flying rocks, pelting into each other and leaving behind white, gray smoke as your tractor comes to a slow, gradual halt.

“But I met someone new!” That peaks her attention, nothing short of a gasp coming from a pair of lips—identical to your own— and here come the questions. Was he blond? Oh, I knew it! Did he buy anything? Well, why not? Was he tall? Thought so. . . How about handsome? Come on, now. .

“He was . . hmm, pretty.” Is how you’d like to put it, raising a finger to the air in finality. Truth be told you don’t remember much about his appearance— it was more so his demeanor. He’d bumped into you— you think— and yet, there was something so smooth about him. Not even his slicked hair, wavy at the end and curved just right to frame his face and bleed into the bristles of his blond undercut. He’d carried on like it was nothing, still polite, even admired your handiwork on your stall’s banner. A sweet thing of a stranger.

“You’re so easily impressed,” The smile dusting your lips curls into a wee, nasty little frown. That’s just not true. “A good thing, too, you’ll have to like our new neighbor.”

Her voice melting through one ear and out the other like freshly harvested honey has your throat tied into a thick knot, stuck right at the base of your neck and only growing in size. Hands thrumming against the granite countertop, your body leans inward.

“Neighbor?”

“Mm,” She hums, landline trapped between her ear and sweater-clad shoulder. You’re not entirely sure if it’s toward you or her friend, either way, her conversation stays ambiguous. “I heard he’s some fancy lawyer. You think he’s defendin’ the Hasaba girls from last year?”

That’s something to think about. Two little girls who’d been found locked away by some sort of— police officer, was he? Perhaps something more authoritative, and taken into his personal care. You wouldn’t be surprised if it became legalized— you’d only met that man (Suguru Geto, was it?) in passing, but his stature seemed dead-set on protecting those girls.

There’s a muffled gasp on the other line, crackly with static as a finger twirls around the phone’s coiled, mint wire. The rest of the conversation goes unheard, slippered feet carrying you to the large, alcove window that displays just enough equal farmland and neighborhood housing. And, sure enough, as if on cue, it’s not hard to make out the lines and shadows of the ‘ fancy ’ lawyer, his fluid silhouette effortlessly carrying luggage and— what looks to be— a box of books. Documents, perhaps.

“You didn’t— how come you didn’t say nothin’ ?!” Your excitement has you toppling over, limbs every which way as your face presses into the glass window. When you’re stuck in a place where everyone knows everyone, there’s something exhilarating about having a new neighbor. And he knows nothing.

There’s a quiet mumble that roughly translates to: ‘You didn’t ask.’, but it’s filtered out by the sound of your full-footed stomps. You opt to keep your slippers, racing toward the neglected basket, mind completely set. “I’ll be back, Ma!”

The path along your house isn’t dangerous, but it is harsh on bare feet— inured by heavy boots and pick-up trucks.. Still, it goes completely ignored as you carry the heaviest basket of goods you own, anxiety twisting and turning in your stomach— bunny hops into your chest and stomps and stomps and stomps. You’ve carried yourself past the intersection of the cobblestone path, a lot more smooth the closer it gets to the large, usually untouched, rental home. The lights are off— save for the dim, yellow glow of a small porch lamp resting above an unsullied, sleek and wooden rocking-chair. When there’s no one to inhabit the home, it’s always been comforting to look at— but now? .

Cold would be one way to put it. Your feet are cold, your arms are cold, your hands are cold, and you’re stood at his front door— frozen. Scared is another.

Even so, you’ve always been told you’re the ‘bravest boy’ in your whole district. Cry-baby habits and all.

The door opens before you can knock, and all you can register is brown. Brown wallpaper— the beige type, just barely meeting the requirement. Patterned with old, vintage looking floral prints. Brown, sleek wood of a bannister— steps that lead down into the living room, but are visible from the front door. Brown eyes, such a specific shade. When exposed to the light they almost look gray— green?— but as he stands before you, there’s nothing but molten chocolate and burnt honey-candy. A brown leather belt, securing crisp slacks and an equally crisp button up. You expect to see brown loafers, but—

Fuzzy slippers, brown and soft and cute. Little black buttons for eyes, and two floppy, fluffy ears— reminiscent of a bunny.

“Oh. . . Can I help you?” You’ve heard it before, his voice, but it’s even more striking than ever. It’s easy to forget the voice of someone you’d just met, but there’s something so. . distinct about it. He’s got a slight accent, too, something Tokyo-adjacent— you’ve always wanted to visit for longer than the feeble four hours of a busy work-trip.

“Mhm!” Pretty lips spread to their best grin, pulling at your cheeks until the babyfat wells up. “Well, no— um, actually. .” Brown eyes are expectant, but calm and patient as they watch you fumble over your words. Your fingers tremor as the basket is thrusted forward, heat blooming in your cheeks. “These— This is for you!”

“Ah. . .” Pink lips part, cupid’s bow prominent. There’s a beat of silence, then the sound of his front door closing with a slight click— right in your face. For a moment all you can do is stare, eyes boring into the dark, chestnut wood of the rustic front door. Staring until it’s gone blurry, eyes bubbling with fresh, unshed tears. And, nearly spilling over like an overflowing faucet, they gather before you can blink them away— fat and thick and embarrassing.

“Um. . I like your sli—slippers.” Fully aware you’re speaking to an unmoving door, you can’t behind yourself to walk back the moss-decalled path home. It’s not so cold anymore, your bones having rung out in the, metaphorical, hot sun until they’ve dried completely and— now it’s warm. Warmth in your nose, stinging as you sniffle and bite down a hiccup.

“Sorry for the wait,” Mahogany shifts, offset by a deep rumble of a voice, smooth like velvet in comparison to the sharp, slow creak of door hinges, “Here.”

Dam rebuilt almost immediately, your body straightens. Him again, this time his eyes trained on what he holds in his hand. Brown and gold like sweet honey and, by God, it’s the most crisp set of yen you’ve ever held in your life. His fingers dance with fluidity you’ve never seen before, counting through each slip until he’s deemed an amount satisfactory— there’s a slight patch of hair on each of his knuckles, an array of veins that cascade into his forearm. His fingertips look a bit rough, but his nails are glossy and clipped. Even his cuticles are pushed back, just enough to look healthy and natural.

“Oh! I wasn’t trying to—”

“I know it’s rude to tip, so I left the exact change,” You blink. Once, twice— again, lips parted like a fish, fresh out of water. Then he’s hoisting the basket from your trembling hands, eyes downcast. “Next time, don’t give out things you worked for, for free,” Right where his eyes dip, his monolid, there’s a small mole— cute and circular, and had you not been studying the curves of his face you wouldn’t have noticed it. “You should wear a coat, too.” And, like a schoolboy, you can’t help the flurry of butterflies catching flight in your stomach.

“Yes, Sir,” Pearly whites biting at the fleshy, pink insides of your cheek have your lips puckered, pensive and sweet as you clutch the money to your chest. “Sorry about earlier— um, if it’s okay, I could help with your boxes?”

He leans forward, careful enough to keep the respective bubble of space between the two of your bodies, glancing at heavy, book-piled boxes labeled ‘N.K.’ The woven basket creaks under the weight of his chest, but it stays in one place nonetheless. “That?” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s fine, just mail. Must’ve arrived before I did.”

It’s a bit awkward, really. Anticipation nips at your fingertips— you’ve never really had to work so hard to continue a conversation. You’ve never had to think about it either, if the words were coming out correct, if anyone was comfortable with your presence.

“Oh,” You breathe, subconsciously leaning closer. Perhaps it’s a miracle he hasn’t actually shut the door in your face, and— right. Your hands move to wipe away any streaks from your cheeks, a small sniffle ringing in the air. “Sorry f’I bothered you. I live, um, closest to the windmill. Yknow, just up the path from here. . . ?”

You haven’t known him for long, but you just can’t consider him comparable. Maybe it’s your heart speed-running past any other rational thought, maybe it’s the blooming heat in your chest, maybe it’s the shiver of winter trailing down your spine. You find yourself desperately hanging onto his every breath, only ever beaming when he shakes his head.

“Kento Nanami,” Tense shoulders relax with a deep inhale, the sweet smell of chocolate stuffed bread filling his nostrils. All that trepidation washes away, hushed under the breeze of Kento’s slow breaths. “Did you make these yourself?”

The door creaks, quiet and welcoming as Nanami extends an arm, stepping aside. Once his eyes finally settle on you they harden, just for a moment, as if he’s finally noticed the pull of your eyes— the crystalline seam tightlined around your waterline, the bright red strain of veins peeking behind your lids. Still, he says nothing, until you’ve introduce yourself with watery tremors.

“It’s cold, and you came all this way without a jacket?” Your eyes trace the vapor floating into the air as he sighs, irises dancing along the edge of your bare forearms. “Come in.”

Your muscles straighten up under his gaze, rippling until rigid as you eagerly nod, “Y’don’t think we could share some of that bread, d’you?”

The best time to farm, you’ve learned, is just after sunrise. The sun rests her head on grassy hills, still groggy and not quite awake yet, herself. But you are, suited up in your boots and overalls, not a single lantern in hand. That’s the first plus, natural lighting of the rising sun. The sweet, dim bath of light that paints the path from your home to your plantation in molten gold.

Then there’s Kento. You’d think he never sleeps, but you’ve seen it. Ritualistic, in a way. For the last two weeks, you’ve watched him go about his day. See, the window of your bedroom leads straight into his study, where he prefers a dimly lit lamp over the bright fluorescents. It’s almost hard to tell when he comes and goes, seeing as whenever you look, there he is. Sat in a swiveling chair and hunched over his desk, writing something in a notepad and skimming through— what looks to be— more documents on his computer.

You can only tell he’s going to bed once there’s a sigh, a pinch to the bridge of his nose before smoothing out his eyebrows, then the discarding of silver-frame, rectangular reading glasses. The lamp stays on, as if he knows he’ll be back in less than seven sleeping hours— which you think, for him, translates to roughly thirty minutes.

And, though he can’t see you, you always make an extra effort to wave up at his study, just before starting up your tractor.

You never expected him to wave back. You never expect his eyes to trail from your face to your supplies. And you, most certainly, never expect him to join you. Two thermal mugs in hand as he makes it over the small hill from his home to your own, past the thorn bushes and vacant tangerine trees. Hot chocolate— piping and rich, it coats your tongue in its sweetness and splashes against your lips with comforting warmth.

“Mm!” You hum, blowing through the small gap between the thermos and its sealed lid. You’d assumed your scarf, wrapped snug around your neck, would do the trick— keep you warm enough — but this seems to actually hit the spot. Sticky accents from remnants of unmelted marshmallows, its fluff clings to the corner of your lips. And Kento, nursing his own mug— though it contains tea— looks up to watch you grin, shards of tiny sugar crystals clinging to your pouty bottom lip.

“Hold still,” all but purring, his thumb swipes at your lip, wipes away the stickiness until they’ve parted— breathless. His eyebrows furrow with concentration, as if it’s a practiced habit, absentmindedly licking his thumb clean with one smooth, quick dart of his tongue.

“Sweet.”

Your breath circulates into the air, a swirl of white that dispels almost immediately. Your thoughts are cut short, breath stuck in your throat, eyes wide and glazed over with astonishment. “It’s— huh?”

“Sweet,” he chimes, lips curling around each letter. He’s beside himself, nearly forgetting who he is until the clear of his throat and a resigned grumble. “I can’t fathom how you manage to drink. . . radioactive waste from a cup.”

His humor is dry— something you have to think over for a moment before smiling against the lid of your cup. Kento notes how you smile— with your whole body— eyes closed tight and teeth on display, shoulders bunched and your stride much more bouncy. He tries not to smile when you giggle, hiding the lower half of your face behind the piping mug as your shoulders brush against his own. With each step the closer you get— to both the blond and your truck.

“It’s good,” Your voice lifts at the end of the statement, feigning offense as you lick your lips. Soft tongue against soft lips, Nanami partly wonders if you naturally taste as sweet as your preference for drinks. “M’not bein’ mean about yours!”

“I'm not being mean,” He corrects, a silent apology laced in his tone— just in case — and your knowing gaze lifts from his cup to his eyes, blazing bright and beautiful. He basks in your attention for a moment, like the gentle rays of a sun-swept island. Had this really been a vacation— no carry-on cases— he would’ve considered booking a flight to Malaysia.

First, he’s buckling you into your seat— it seems you’d forgotten, then he’s reminding you to put on your gloves, despite having bare hands of his own.

“You do this for a living,” is his justification, though you deemed it more a reason for him to wear the protective gear. “You wear them.”

And, now, he’s listening intently as you explain the mild inconvenience that is the technicalities that come with farming. He learns of your affinity to animals. Your slight, biased preference for gardening. The way your nose wrinkles when you think too hard, and the way you often forget what you were saying as you say it.

Though the scenery outside the passenger seat window is beautiful— valleys of faded green and brown, a light fog dusting the air. The symphony of crickets and cicadas, and of course, the sunset making its round up the horizon, teetering along the age of the Earth as it paints each and every blade of grass in its light.

He helps you out of the car as if you haven’t done it yourself a million times, careful not to spill your drink in his other hand. He’s awfully tender, too, his thumb absentmindedly circling the glove-clad skin of your knuckles as your hand squeezes his own. The door slams shut, and he doesn’t miss your expression twist as you whisper a small ‘oops, sorry!’ to your precious truck before unloading supplies.

Kento can’t name a thing— he’s out of his depths, here, but he helps anyway. He carries it down the never-ending row of cabbage and radish, watches his step despite nearly dismantling at least three dozen budding vegetables simultaneously. And you don’t yell at him once, instead offering words of sweet encouragement until you’ve found the place to start, dropping your assortment of tools and buckets.

“M’kay, ‘Nami,” He watches you drop to a crouch, warmth blooming in the apples of his cheeks. It’s not just the suggestive position, nor the way your pretty eyes look up at him from there— but it’s how sweet you say his name. . going as far as to give him a nickname, too.

Still, it manifests through the twitch of his eye, which you don’t catch onto, as he kneels alongside you.

“‘Nami—”

“No. It’s pronounced Nanami.” He interjects, his grip tight along the base of unsavory, frostbitten weeds— at least, that’s what he sees you doing anyway. Almost too tight, heavy and thick hands flexing, you can see the bend of his knuckles as his fingers dig into the roots.

“Na,”And, the smell of dirt, it’s so strong, the earthy undertones invade your nostrils and have no intent on stopping. . . “—na,” Raw, natural. His palms press in at the sides, thumbs stroking at the soil as he feels around for growing stems. For a moment it’s silent, save for the crackling radio beside you. Your pretty lips part, and sweetly, you’ve sounded out his name. “—mi.”

A puff of air leaves his lips, a scoff of a chuckle, and he’s giving a slight nod, quietly whispering the syllables of your name in acknowledgment. “Mhm?”

He doesn’t miss the way your lips split into a wide grin, weeds absentmindedly disregarded for a moment as you giggle, “I already knew that— I just said it!”

“Mm,” He agrees, though he’s not entirely sure you did. Then his heavy fingers tap your wrist— gentle, barely even a tap, but it gets you back on track— picking up the dead weeds. Kento watches, your hands gingerly plucking them free from the root, mastered and effortless.

Your fingertips dig into the soil, palms sticky and damp, littered with defrosting grass along each ridge and defining line. There’s so much care in your fingertips, and with every successful pull your eyes ignite. Like a cute, overgrown puppy. “Good. You’re a smart boy.”

“Y’think m’smart?” And, though your shoulders bunch up— a bit more bashful, you’re shaking your head. “I mean— I knew that already, too,” and it washes away as fast as it arrives, replaced with genuine exuberance. “I tell m’self everyday!”

The blond catches it anyway, gaze unwavering, even as your own struggles to keep contact. Nanami’s eyes are remarkably intimidating despite belonging to someone who’s positioned so utterly relaxed. . Crouching just as you are, but with smooth shoulders and lax biceps. Still, they’re visible through the silk fabric of his button-up, but he seems used to it. Tufts of blonde hair, slightly unruly and disheveled— swept back with gel, yet still set off in a flurry of gold by the back of his head, as if he’d rolled around in bed and decided to lounge about instead of retouching it.

Cozy.

“I do,” The sun dawns down through thick, gray clouds, framing his bronze locks— and with his lips slightly parted and his skin picking up a peachy glow, he looks almost seraphic. “What were you saying?”

“Um,” You pause to rethink through the last hour, warmth blowing past your cheeks as a particularly nippy gust of wind rushes by. “. . We sell ‘em, the weeds! That won’t be for a few days, sometimes we keep ‘em for cookin’, but . . . these aren’t any good.”

“Too many?” He asks, as if it’s the most interesting thing he’s learned in his vacation here, by far, despite having learned that just a few days ago.

“Too many!” Pretty lips part into a wide grin, and perhaps that’s the conclusion to Kento’s sightseeing.

౨ৎ

Kento tries not to lie— not unless he absolutely needs to.

With your black on black attire— a large, knitted sweater, a black bomber atop it, dark jeans to match, a hand-woven gray scarf wrapped around your neck, and white sneakers that carry a cream-colored accent in its threading— it’s hard to keep his mouth shut.

“Where are we going?” Is his first question— but there’s so much more he means to ask. Since when do you dress so nicely? Do your parents know you spent extra farm money on those shoes? Is it bad to feel the urge to hold you closer, just so no one gets any ideas?

Nonetheless, checking the silver-plated Rolex along his wrist with the slight tussle of his lapel-collared trench coat, just before popping open the passenger’s seat of your truck, he ignores the growing thought.

“You’re always locked up in your house,” Twisting your keychain covered keys into the ignition, the truck starts up with a gradual rumble. You’ve figured something was wrong with the oil for quite some time now, but it’s never been enough to start any problems. “Don’t y’wanna have fun?”

That doesn’t entirely answer his question, nor does it ease his mind— a vacation this is, yes. But it’s also paid, and he’s technically on the clock whilst being here. Still, he nods just once, the clench of his jaw apparent in the faint valleys of muscle just below his ear. Though, he supposes he could say the same about you. Every day you wake up, harvest, water crops, feed your animals, clean out troths and shovel up feces. He’s not even entirely sure if that’s your idea of fun— but he hopes not.

Kento doesn’t expect you to be such a great driver. Smooth turns and a gentle ride— even with cobblestone streets and gravel trails. You get carried away when you talk, too, hands moving about and your gaze trailing to his eyes every few seconds. He has to remind you— “Don’t take your hands off the wheel,” “Don’t look at me, look at the road,” — but Kento would be lying if he said it weren’t endearing.

It’s almost like you can barely function without basking in his presence.

“If it were warmer,” You swallow, finally stopping to catch your breath after the last fifteen minutes of rambling. The car slows down to a halt, an overhead traffic-light flashing a bright, crisp shade of red. “We could’ve went apple-pickin’ . . . or even oranges!”

You take the time to fully face him, eyes trailing up his dark trousers and gray turtleneck— it bunches at his chest, and you’re sure without his trench coat it’d be just as strained around his biceps.

“What do you do when it’s cold?” He muses, ducking his head to watch the passing of trees and inner city shops.

“Hm?” You hum, but before he can repeat the question you beat him to it. “Uh, we have this lake— it’s the first to freeze over when it’s cold. . ” So quaint, his eyes gloss over pedestrians as they live amongst themselves. Walking their dogs, sharing a drink at an outdoor bar, couples huddled close together for warmth. The sidewalks are clean and clear, there’s a polite, happy bounce to everyone’s step. Fairy lights blink in every other window, casting a sweet, bright hue along the streets below it. Kento understands it all, despite it being much more. . comfortable. . than Sendai. “And, when it’s completely frozen, we skate on it!”

It feels like home. A gentler, cozier version of it.

“I’m sorry—” The blond clears his throat as he turns to actually look at you, having fully processed your words. “Skating?”

“Are y’scared?” Nanami tries to ignore the burning of his throat when you laugh at his silence— a pretty, featherlight thing of a giggle that only progressively makes it harder for him to catch his breath.

“No,” He grumbles. He’s actually done it before— his younger, studying ‘coworkers’ had a knack for dragging him around outside of work hours— and he wasn’t free from it, even in winter. Yuji, Megumi, and Nobora, perhaps the three only people who could have him willingly risking a fractured disc.

“Don’t be scared, ‘Nami!” The car turns into a short trail, decalled in various signs and brightly colored symbols. “I can help you, m‘kay?”

Four people.

He nods anyway, save you the meltdown, and lets you drag him out the car once you’ve found a good place to park. He’d think it was illegal had there not been a sign for it, let alone communal skates in varying sizes. They’re in good condition, too. A small wooden bench— decorated with moss along its sides, he brushed his fingertips against it by accident— keeps him steady, but when he looks over to you, you’re already walking around with untied skates.

“Come here,” He beckons, voice soft and fond as he quirks a finger in your direction. He watches you fumble, nearly tripping over your own legs as opposed to your laces, but you make it over to him anyway, thigh against thigh. You brace yourself when he pulls your legs over his lap, shifts in his seat and tightens them just enough— “It’s not hurting you, is it?”— to fit comfortably.

“Thank you, ‘Nami,” He can hear the sincerity in your voice— as if he’d saved your life. Your breath pans across his face, warm and minty as you shake your head, “Doesn’t hurt. . .”

He offers a gentle pat to your knees once you’re fully set, softly dropping them back down as he leans to tie his own. It’s a quick process— not as tedious as the knotted up, tattered ones back home— a much more nice change of pace.

The ice, though, is considerably worse. He surmises it’s because it’s relatively untouched— if the whole village of Sekichiku had done two laps over it still wouldn’t have been enough to leave a noticeable dent in the ice— so his skates have nowhere to grip. You, though. . .

You’re much more graceful on ice than on land. A slow turn here, a quick twirl there, you could skate laps around him if you so choose. But you don’t, instead holding onto his wrists as he stiffly skates forward. Kento’s nose is nipped with pink, matching the particular shade of his lips as they part in concentration. The shade dispels down his cheeks, and you’ve never seen his face so. . . soft.

“Say, ‘Nami?” You huff, holding his wrists as you move in a slow, clockwise circle, turning you both. “When’re you leavin’?”

The truth bubbles in his throat, tougher to swallow than he’d originally thought it’d be. He clears his throat, avoids the question, and instead of freeing his wrists altogether, he holds your hand. You’re pouting when you slowly swivel to his side, his heart somersaulting almost painfully at the cute, wee frown to your lips. “Hey,” you whine, caught off guard but still pleasantly surprised, squeezing your palms against his own. “What’re you doin’?”

You’ve always been undeniably sweet. Kento thinks back to your basket of goods. The sweet, savory, aromatic flavors of bread, meats, cheeses, chocolates. How you have it to him so sweetly, no questions asked. There’s no ulterior motive to your demeanor, either. It’s peculiar to have someone so. . dependable. Someone to easily lean on, someone so— hospitable.

You’re perfect.

“I've never—“ He pauses, watching smoke dispel form your lips. An intimate position, he’s in— close enough to hear your breaths, holding on tight enough to feel your pulse through your fingertips. “Noone has ever done this for me. Thank you.”

“What, take you skatin’?”

“Support me unconditionally.” He pulls away before you can say anything in response, relishing in the thought of your pulse speeding against his knuckles as he stiffly skates back toward regular land.

The ride home is smooth, but quiet. And once you get there, hunger overrides your hospitality.

You like Kento’s rental— its kitchen is spacious and just big enough to support the mess of pots and pans that come with baking. It’s warm and inviting, the stove works great and the oven even better. Its heat burns a little brighter, but nothing you can’t handle.

Pain au chocolat — chocolatine — and meringue cookies; they’re a pain in Kento’s ass. Not even something he’d try to attempt without you there— he’s happy to watch you whisk away and laugh at his disgruntled faces. A “taste-tester”, you’d called him, scooping one sugary accessory after another onto the pad of your fingertip and asking him to try.

You weren’t lying. You really do know how to bake— flour dusted skin and all. Twisting raw dough into pretty sculptures of bows and braids, scored surfaces of x’s and o’s, light layers of warm butter that seep into soft, risen dough. And when it bakes, oh, how sweet the smell of aromatic bread is to Nanami’s stomach.

Studying the contours of a pretty face— baby fat rounding your cheeks as they pool into a sweet smile, pearly whites displayed brighter than the moonlight leaking through the floral curtains. Your laughter is wholehearted, hands gripping the hem of Nanami’s fleece shirt, body tipping toward his chest as your giggles dispel into the warm, brown-sugar baked air. For a moment he mentally swoons, something of a comforting coo, eyelids heavy and blanketed with the same baking powder littering your handsome face. He relishes the warmth, which leaves just as fast as it arrives, and suddenly you’re reaching into the oven without your cute, fluffy puppy-patterned mittens protecting your hands.

“Wait,” His tone is harsher than intended, solid and thick, and you— the sweet, softheaded boy that you are, don’t entirely deserve the worried look on your face that melts into sharp, hot pain.

“Ouch!” Your elbow smacks into Nanami’s calf as you flinch, fingertips raw and numb— still pulsing from the fresh burn. The man crouches down, knee to ceramic, palm to your warm shoulder, and suddenly your wide eyes are glittering and gleaming. Had the smile from your face not been growing, he’d have been appalled. “‘Nami, did you see that?!”

“Silly boy,” He sucks his teeth, pulling your clasped hands from your chest. Gingerly, he plucks out each finger one by one, runs the pad of his thumb along the burn sites. “You have to be more gentle with yourself.”

And, as if he’d declared to destroy your favorite equipment, your shoulders deflate. Hazel watches as tears well in your eyes in real time— with award winning speed, really— glassy and wet and oh, you’re so cute. It was just a small reminder, nothing too harsh— it could barely be considered scolding. Yet here you are, sniffling and averting your gaze. Eyes glossed over while your fingers instinctively curl over his own for comfort. Then a small, petulant, “M’sorry, ‘Nami.”

“None of that,” Soothing, it's gentle and soft as his thumb travels along the numb pads of your fingertips. And though it was already a faint sensation, you can tell his touches are deliberately featherlight and calculated, cautious. “Nothing to cry about.”

“I’m not crying,” You grumble, though his ears register the sound as a wet sniffle as you rub at your cheek with the back of your free hand. “I don’t do that.”

“Of course not,” The breathy lilt tongue voice gives it all away, a tiny smile dotting the man’s lips. They’re entirely too enticing, a sweet shade of pink that dispels into the milky tan of his skin. Sheen and glazed with what could be spit, your lips part to mirror the same smile. Though yours is larger, his isn’t any less exuberant— luring you in one centimeter at a time until, inevitably, his breath ghosts along the expanse of your jaw— you can almost taste him.

His voice breaks through the thickened silence, “But it’s okay if you do.”

The next two hours should go by just fine.

౨ৎ

“What does ‘default-judgment’ mean?”

Floorboards creak beneath Kento’s feet, dimly lit ambient lighting placed around the office keeps it lit just enough to see ever so clearly— a small lamp angled above an open file, then the remaining trickle of light cascading over photos. Labeled, dated, clipped, and shipped to his front door just a couple weeks ago. Soon to be released, relinquished, deadlined.

His hair drips with cold water, tiny drops dripping down to the floor while others slither down his neck, and pool where his back dips, just slightly. He doesn’t tense when he sees you— his muscles remain just as relaxed as they were in the shower— and his eyes barely widen past the tired, lidded expression that paints his face every night, before he gets his studying done. But you—

You’re the opposite. Your shoulders raise to your ears, eyes wide and unblinking as they stare at the towel wrapped around his thick, slightly hairy forearm— it’s navy blue, with a brown, horizontal stripe across its fabric, and embroidered letters you can’t quite make out. An intelligible sound, then an unexplainable expression, and— there you are, tripping over your own tongue as your hands shoot to cover your eyes. Only unclothed from the waist up, Kento can’t help the amusement blooming in his chest.

“It’s a deduction based on a defendant’s failure to answer. . or appear, in some cases, to a lawsuit or court.” Nanami’s eyes trace the part of your lips behind your palm as your brain processes (though, he doesn’t think that’d be the correct word for it) his words. They purse, quickly, tight lined, until parting again— once more, with less confidence. With each step he takes (long strides that make him appear as if he’s almost floating) he grows closer, strands of freshly washed angel hair sticking to his forehead.

“. S. . ure!” You smile and nod in faux understanding, fingers curling toward the dip of your hairline, eyes peeking through cracked fingers. From there, beneath your palms, an uncomfortable warmth blossoms from your throat up, settling in your cheeks and sprinkling across your nose— sweltering and tingly.

Kento tuts, a soft noise, and you watch as he inhales a deep breath, pine eyes perusing through the space between your fingers for eye contact. “. . . Don’t worry about all that.” And, as if he can feel the high voltages slamming against your heart, his tongue darts out to moisturize his lips, and his eyes fall to your chest. He sits aslant to you, legs spread wide with the occasional sway of his knee— but nothing too sudden. You’re made all too aware of his half-naked proximity, purportedly close enough to feel the warmth of his body radiating through the room— to smell the sweet undertones of vanilla, musk, and earl gray tea residing in his skin. In a low rumble he speaks, pulling lotion free from the drawer to your left. “Silver lining is: I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

Even as he leans forward, closer and closer, he doesn’t cage you in— even if your chest aches at the loss.

Your heart demands the conversation die after that. Beating so rapidly you assume it’s stopped, silence freezes the air as your hands slowly drop to your lap. Lips pulled with woe, darling eyes low and sodden in an instant. Shoulders dropped just enough to sound a sharp creak in the swiveling chair you’re sat in, your lashes clump with fresh, unshed tears. And, in a lapse moment of murkiness, Kento’s lips twitch into a frown of their own.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, as if afraid your response will confirm it— he’s what’s wrong. His choice of words— wrong. Thin brows furrowed, the dip of his chin has his lips ghosting your cheek.

“. . . Nothin’.” It’s worse. He’d expected tears— maybe even an exchange of fiery words— but instead you’ve shut down, hands balled up in the fabric of your flowy pants, denim bunched up and draped over your thighs. Completely silent, staring at nothing and everything— all in between— all at once.

“Nothing?” He echoes, a silent suggestion for more. The rumble in your ear is almost too much, for a moment you assume you’d conjured it up with your imagination. Too close, too bare, too blunt, too warm— too fleeting.

“Mhm,” When your gaze meets, his heart plummets to his stomach. “Nothin’.” Words rush to his tongue before they can catch up to his brain, and. . you look so . . sad. He’s never seen you so defected— nor had he thought the concept of giving up existed for you. So headstrong, determined to make things work, gears always shifting into overdrive when you can’t make something out. You’ve gone as far as to create your own definition— this isn’t you.

“It’s. . . inevitable,” Kento’s voice softens, dropping to a quiet whisper between just the two of you. “But not for a while,” Then shifts his weight back, pulling away as he speaks in some sick sort of oxymoron, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you will.” Grumbling, you’ve always been an open-book.

“Not forever.”

“. . . Ever,” You grunt, choosing to ignore the stern quirk of his thin brow. You’re a bit of a brat— Kento sees that now— behind the pouty lips and soft eyes, behind the large smiles and intimidating prowess. “When are you goin’?”

Nanami treads carefully, fingers wrapped around the closed bottle of lotion. With a snap it clicks open, and a generous amount is pumped into his palms. The smell is neutral and muted, but clean and fresh.

Kento tries not to lie— not unless he absolutely needs to. An unexplainable feeling, adjacent to panic, rises in his stomach as he lies, “Six weeks, at least.”

“Nami…” Ignoring the deadline he’d just given you, you ask, “D’you like your job?”

You watch his posture relax, as if the previous conversation was just as emotionally taxing as it was for you, for him. He sighs, pauses to think for a mere second, then shrugs. “I like its structure.”

“Oh.”

“I like helping people, too.” He adds, much more sincere. Your eyes trail the lotion as it’s rubbed into his biceps, his shoulders, his forearms. His fingers flex and muscles ripple, skin bouncing beneath his fingertips, and light traces of hair at his knuckles raising.

“Oh.” You breathe, eyes locked on his veiny hands. You suppose, in a way, your jobs are similar. You, too, help people out— you provide fresh food and crops, you herd cattle and brush the hair of healthy horses. A very hands-on job— it’s rewarding. “Me too. I— I like helping too. And. . .”

His fingers twitch, almost as if they can feel your gaze, but Kento makes no effort to move them.

Six weeks. Time is fleeting.

“I—” With trembling hands you lean forward, clasping Kento’s smooth knuckles against your palm. He’s just as warm as he looks, skin soft and sheen. His fingers flicker in your hold, straining as they tense— silently, asking, ‘what?’ as an increasingly overwhelming urge to keep Kento close washes over you.

It’s moments like these you’d wish you were better with words. To weave them together into something pretty, like a basket made for carrying fresh harvest. To pull apart and braid together an amalgamation of just the right phrases— ones that sound pretty and roll off the tongue. Some that sound soulful and genuine, yet effortless and forthwith at the same time.

Moments like these, where your breath is stuck in your throat and with every rise and fall of his chest you think you’ve lost some more— he’s taken it all from you— you wish you knew just what to say, to do, to bring that air back.

To have him melt at your words the way you do at his actions, to have him feel the same exact thing when your heart clenches in your chest like a rag that’s been wrung out to dry. Without trying, without straining. You wish you were smarter— better at this, as you lean so far from the chair it begins to squeak in protest.

You’re sure there’s better people in Tokyo. With better educational backgrounds, with cleaner jobs. People who have it all together, who have different skills and assets— who don’t stick to one thing simply because they have a natural born talent for it. People who are prettier, more handsome— perhaps more his type. People who have aligning career goals and paths— more accomplishments.

Sweeter, kinder. With softer hands and an easier understanding of city life.

People who are better with words. Who can weave them together into something pretty, like a closed case with no loose ends or dead leads. Who can pull apart and braid together an amalgamation of just the right phrases— ones that sound pretty and roll off the tongue. Who can make their confessions sound soulful and genuine, effortless and forthwith at the same time. All within the heart of Tokyo.

People who aren’t you.

Nanami stands, shuffling over to fix the documents you’d ruined— of course you did— but his face hasn’t changed from his usual tight-lipped expression. Sometimes it’s hard to read him, and it’s times like these you really wish you could.

“I like you,‘Nami.” You whisper to yourself, quietly pouring your heart out with each spoken letter.

And, with a snap, your world goes crumbling down. Increasingly silent, the world stops as you hit the floor and Kento’s chest stills— the soft, quiet beat of his breaths gone quiet, as if it were a mere memory to begin with. The backing of his swiveling chair falls with you, right to the floor, clattering much louder than the sound of your tense body, and—

“Forgive me if I’m wrong, but I think you have the wrong idea.” His voice is strained. Uncomfortable.

You’ve never felt more humiliated.

౨ৎ

Despite your humiliating attempt to hold onto it, time flies by. Locked away in your room— your only source of comfort being an occasional knock on the door from your mother and the weight of your blanket as it remains overhead. You’ve counted the seconds— tripped over your thoughts after reaching 1,633– started over again. You’ve listened to the pitter-patter of rain against your windowsill, peeked out from your cocoon to bet on a race between the raindrops.

You’ve thought about Kento, of course. So much it plagued you, made your chest uncomfortably tight— until all you could do was let out a humiliated groan all over again. It’s a timeless cycle, and yet, it grows closer to his leaving date.

You haven’t spared a glance toward the actual outside, even when your window overlooks his own study. You’re sure everything’s out of sorts now— weeds overtaking the farm, plants dried out or overwatered, any blooming vegetation snipped at the bud before it could bloom. Tough luck, they’ll get over it.

And, God, has your family tried. Through gentle words and offers of food, through soft praises that fell on deaf ears. Through frustration, too, anger laced in the sweetest yell of ‘where’d my smart boy go?’

Your eyelids feel heavy and thick. No longer swollen with tears or bloodshot with dejection— just heavy, simply tired. Sleep is all you’ve done these days, yet it feels like your body can’t get enough. Fifteen hours a day leave you straining for more, three hours a day leave you exhausted. You can barely remember when you last left your bed— for the bathroom, never for a drink— and even when your frown deepens as you think about it, you can’t bring yourself to fix it.

You can’t bring yourself to fix anything as of late, if it can even be fixed.

You were stupid for thinking he’d feel the same, anyway. A man like ‘Nami— a man like Nanami— so smart and so distinguished. So. . opposite of you, to think you’d fall anywhere near the same line as him. . is laughable, really. Even more so when you consider his upbringing. He doesn’t mention it much, and you try not to pry, but you consider his lifestyle quite traditional and cookie-cutter. You hadn’t even asked if he liked men.

“I think you have the wrong idea.”

His rejection physically pains you, a quiet sniffle and suppressed whine straining your vocal cords. Your nails dig into the fleshy, cushiony part of your palm. You can hear the pitch of his voice — rumbling and deep, you hear the shakiness of his breath—so deeply uncomfortable, cold with disgust. “I think you have the wrong idea.”

A knock to your door startles you awake, eyes wide open as your cocooned body flops around in bed. Still, you barely make an effort to respond, dry lips parting to form a garbled groan.

“Your. . . friend was at the door,” It’s your mother’s voice, but softer and pleading. For a moment your heart twists, eyebrows pinched as you suck in a sharp breath through your teeth— you can’t remember the last time you’d seen her face without slamming a door in it. “Looked tired, so I gave him some coffee. . .”

A bitter, disconcerting ‘so?’ nearly leaves your mouth— something so unlike your usual self, it makes you want to borrow deeper into your sheets and never leave. Shame. She doesn’t expect you to crack the door open. You shake your head, even if she can’t see you, only breaking your stubborn resolve when knocks once more, and slowly, you scuttle around the mess of your bedroom to unlock the door. Your eyes carry dark circles and heavy bags as your gaze pierces straight through her. Then, a shaky breath and barely audible whisper, “. . . S’it Nanami?”

Her aged smile is soft and thoughtful as she leans into the doorframe— something you haven’t seen in a while, and your eyes prickle with warm tears once more. “Between you ‘n me, you’re in much better shape.”

Cracking a smile nearly takes all your energy from you.

You don’t bother changing from your pajamas— they’ve always been so baggy to support the muscle you’ve grown over years of lifting heavy produce and working with truckloads— and now you’re grateful for it. Something to hide behind if you need it, and your fingers subconsciously curl into the fabric of your long sleeves for comfort. Once you get downstairs the two of you depart, and a gentle rub to your shoulder blades is all your mother offers before finding solitude on her own, just a few rooms away if you need her.

And— she was wrong. Of course, he looks tired. You can see it in his shoulders— they’re all wound up and tense, like they’d been when you first met. Sure, his jaw is tightened and you can hear the grind of his teeth against one another despite keeping your distance— but he still seems put together, albeit lacking his usual combover or corporate style of clothing.

It hurts to know he does well without you, as selfish as it may sound.

“Hi,” You mumble, rubbing at your face with the palm of your hand. Your voice crackles with disuse, rumbling and garbled in your throat. “Nanami. .”

“Hi,” He echoes, your name heavy on his tongue as he stands, leveling out the shared eye contact. Just Nanami. For a moment he’s at a loss for words— and it’s odd, typically he has an answer for everything. You remember asking why he’d buckle your seatbelt before his own, and his answer was always the same. You remember asking why he likes what he does— and they’d all circle back to enjoying the small things in life. His Kento’s lips part, taken aback by the loss of his nickname, but they close into a tight line with registration. Perhaps you’re just. . too much.

“I lied to you,” He begins, and your heart leaps to your throat. He clasps his hands together, resting soundly by his thighs as his head tilts downward, a silent plea. “And, for that . . . I’m sorry,” Kento releases a breath, hands coming undone to swipe away stray, gold strands of hair. “Don’t feel obliged to accept, I just— I like y— I want to show you something.”

It’s odd. The look on your face makes him want to scoop you up, to cradle you in his arms and hold you tight. And yet, he can see the cogs turning in your brain, the gradual loss of your frown and faux steel in your eyes as you shrug— he can’t even distinguish if you’re being reluctant or stubborn. Nonetheless, Kento smoothens the fabric of his coat, and makes a small, polite gesture to the door.

“Okay.” Your fist rubs sleep from your eyes, steps heavy and dragging along the floor as you slide your feet into brown bunny slippers— the same ones he’d worn when you officially met.

Stepping into the cold, crisp winter air, you both ignore the tremor to your bottom lip, “What were you gonna. . ?”

Not at all hard to spot, set alight by the glow or orange lanterns, it’s your farm. Oh, it’s much prettier than you could’ve ever imagined it. So clean, with pristine rows and neat placements of fresh soils. You can actually walk through it, as opposed to tip-toeing around like you used to. The air is crisp and fresh, just like you’d remembered it— but it feels better than before. And, dotting the horizon, fireflies dance into the night sky and blend into the twinkling stars. You don’t remember the last time you’d seen them— vision occupied by tall grass or obstructed by rusty tools. You could almost cry. Your breath catches in your throat, a gentle breeze brushing along your forehead and digging into the fabric of your clothes— yet you feel light and warm.

He did all this for you?

“Are you cold?” You blink hard, vision blurred with tears as Kento’s hand grasps your shoulder. “You’re shivering.” He’s quick to shrug off his coat, barely even flinching when the fabric dips into fresh mud, and loops it around your form with steady hands.

“M’okay. .” He frowns, barely visible, and the slight protests of being strong enough to tough it out die on your tongue. But it’s true, you don’t feel cold— not internally, at least. You feel light yet heavy, warm and airy. Heat pokes at your skin, ignites in the apples of your cheeks and trails down your throat. “. . . Thank you, ‘Nami. . . For everythin’.”

‘Why're you saying it like that?’ He wants to ask. As if it’s some sort of sick, roundabout way of saying goodbye. His movement stutters, lips curled into a small ‘o’ before reverting back to its usual, thin line; and he speaks, “I don’t just like you.”

Your fist tightens in his coat, fabric twisting to accommodate your grip.

“I. . admire you. Your strength, your weakness. Your baking. . Your smile, too,” He sighs, quiet and cautious. “Your laugh. I regret not telling you before. At first, I thought you were impulsive, and somehow abrasive, bu—”

You’ve never been one to hide from your feelings— you laugh when you’re happy, scowl when you’re angry, mope when you’re sad. So it’s no surprise to feel you smile; wide and unapologetic. It’s no surprise to feel the tremble of your fingers as they release his coat and land on his biceps. To feel the slow, shaking breath of air he releases at your silence— hearing his own slight sniffle at the nippy, cold breeze. You’re nervous, lips twitching as his chin dips, bashful as his lips intertwine with your own.

A kiss.

"’Nami," Laughing into his mouth, it meets the sound of your lips continuously meeting in breathless, heavy harmony. His lips are plush, soft and sweet, hungry and hasty, everything and nothing and all things in between. “I like you. I like you, I like you, I like you.”

You feel it now— the warmth enveloping his chest, the hard hammering of his heart against his ribcage. "Shit," He whispers, incredulous, and before slowly pulling away, cradles your handsome face between his calloused “I like you too.”

౨ৎ

Kento owns silk pillows. You can tell they’re imported from home— as they disturb the uniform colors of the crisp, cream comforter set blanketing his bed. It’s the first thing you notice, head sinking into the fabric as your eyes flutter closed, thoughts and breaths stolen with each wet, heavy kiss being pressed against your lips. His breath is hot and heavy, small groans and grunts leaving his parted lips, and— he tastes of chocolate.

“Kenny—” You gasp, but the sound of his name on your lips only eggs him on. Hot heat blooms in your stomach, tingling down to your tummy, so deep, something you’ve never really felt before. It tingles, almost, right through your thighs and straight to your cock, plumping up with each passing second. And his hands, god, are so quick and skilled— shedding you of your clothing as if he’s done it a million times before.

“Kenny,” You repeat, much whinier than before, tiny sounds leaving your lips as you squirm in his hold. “Mm, wait,” and his response is barely committal, a low hum that melts into a breathy sigh as your bare skin is exposed and your leaking cock springs free against your tummy. He coos, peeling the sticky fabric of your underwear free. Cute.

“Use your words,” Kento mumbles against your skin, running his hands along the silky smooth skin of the back of your thighs. “I know you can, you’re a smart boy.” You squirm with every touch, plush skin bouncy as you press your thighs together, cock sliding by your navel. And, even when you hide, he can see the precum smearing against your stomach, the tightening of your balls, and, now, your exposed hole winking back at him.

Fuck.

“Mm, don’t look,” You’ve barely convinced yourself, a choked out moan leaving your lips as his big, warm hand wraps around your cock and pumps. “That’s— oh, embarrassin’!” Slow, at first, trailing up the sensitive shaft and rubbing circles into the overly-sensitive head. Until his hand is slick with precum and his own spit, until your thighs are convulsing and you’re close to covering yourself in your own cum. Until you’re sobbing, pulling at his wrist with weak, clammy hands.

“I know, sugar. I know,” And the stifled cry you've been hearing belongs to you. “Feels good, hm?” His free hand grazes down your waist, thumbing at the dip between your hip and your thigh, then cupping the soft, plush skin of your pecs. “Feels better than your own hand, doesn’t it?” Kneading until your nipples harden against his palm, soft skin swelling around his fingers. And, oh, how pretty you are when you cry, overstimulated tears rolling down your cheeks and incoherent babbles leaving your swollen lips.

“Uh— huh, yeah,” Is barely breathed out, and Kento watches pre leak over his knuckles. Creamy and thick, sticky and sweet as your hips rock back and forth, to and fro. You just can’t help yourself, greedy boy, fucking into his fist like it’s the best thing you’ve ever felt and— oh.

It is.

“Messy boy,” He huffs, pressing his forehead against your own— damp and sticky. Your hand, preoccupied with fisting his sheets, is grabbed, and all you can feel is slick, hot heat. “Fuck your fist for me.”

“Wh- Huh?” It takes a moment for your brain to catch up to your hands, wrapped tightly around your cock as your hips buck— whines high and loud in your throat, keening like a puppy. It’s not at all paced, not like Kento, just pure desperation and need as your toes curl and your eyes roll back into your skull. Warmth rises in your face as your legs instinctively part, tingles spreading through your body and needy moans filling the air. Wet and sloppy, your hand is slick and soaked.

He travels lower, lips trailing down your throat, your collarbones— pausing at your chest. He watches the rise and fall, the slight bounce of your pecs as you pant like a dog. Pretty buds hard and sensitive, a gentle suckle is enough to make you arch from the sheets and keen.

“Good boy, that’s it,” You have the urge to get on your knees, to present all your holes to him, to spread yourself open with your fingers- fucking them in and out, in and out, just for Kento. It’s all too much, thinking of what’s next, what’s happening now, what’ll happen later.

Nanami lifts his shirt over his chest, the fabric bunching under your armpits as he keeps it pinned between his teeth, and you have no other choice but to flutter your lashes, watching as his pants are loosened and his cock springs free. Big. Thick and long— and, it seems his tan has traveled to his cock, too. Blushing at the tip, the sweet color of mocha, it disappears the further you look down. Curved, too, slightly past his belly-button and heavy against his navel. It's humiliating, the way your mouth waters almost immediately.

It’d feel so good weighing down on your tongue, fucking your throat fast and rough, making you gag and sputter— choking on your own tears and groans.

“Wanna. . I want. . .” You squirm where you lay, whining high in your throat as you find nowhere to hide— nothing to put your face against, nowhere to bury the drunk, hazy expression on your face.

“Want what?” He murmurs, pretty eyes trailing along the curves of your face before he places a sweet, soft kiss along the edge of your jaw. You take the grip on your waist as a slight indication— Kento’s patience is slowly waning.

“V’never. .” Your lips part into a gasp, eyes fluttering closed as his large hands travel along the expanse of your chest. “I wanna. . . feel you in my throat.”

The smart man he is, Nanami, never misses a beat. Pink lips splitting into a small smile, his thumb rubs circles against your skin. Still, you can feel the throb and twitch of his cock against your thigh, hard and almost leaking. “That’s ambitious, sugar.”

You don’t register scrambling up by your elbows, nor the amount of time it takes for your fingers to fail at wrapping around his cock. Your thoughts are muffled and hazy until a quiet chuckle sounds above you— rumbly and deep, and— ah, Kento’s hand is guiding your head back as he pulls your hands free. You’re panting for it now, mouth dropped open as the slurp and slick noise of his cock tapping against your tongue drops straight to your stomach. You could cum from this alone, without even a single glance toward the ache between your thighs.

"M'gonna be so good, promise, know I can do it! Want it, Sir," A clear habit of rambling when you’re nervous, a soothing coo leaves Kento’s throat. His tip smears along your pillowy lips, sticky and salty as pre paints your chin.

“Shit,” He groans under his breath, fisting his cock to ease the ache in his balls. “Slow. I don’t want to hurt you. Gentle, remember?”

You don’t. You can barely think, let alone recall something from another day. But you nod anyway, eyes glued to his cock as it bobs to and fro— pretty and weeping. You bet it’ll feel so heavy, weighing down on your tongue and nearly crushing your throat as you gag around it. He’ll taste good, too, salty and sweet as he buries his cock down your throat. With your nose pressed into the blond of his pubes, and his balls slick against your chin as they tighten and clench.

Yeah, you want him to cum on your face.

With a whiny nod you take his tip into your mouth, pink tongue over your teeth. In your head, it’s much easier— you can sink down to the base no problem— but in practice. . . You sputter and gurgle, leaning into the gentle touch caressing your cheek as your tongue traces the pulsing, thick vein cascading down his shaft. Through your pathetic whimpers and whines he mumbles— but it falls on deaf ears.

You stick out your tongue, cute and pink, latches onto your bottom lip, slicking his slit as he blinks down at you, pupils blown and wide as he praises you, voice smooth and buttery.

Through your own jittery, inexperienced suckling, his tip is smeared along your lips, slowly tracing your cupid's bow and bottom lip until a thin layer of pre has them glazed over and sticky. Your lips part, carrying a thin trail of creamy pre between them, as his dick slides in and out your hot, wet mouth. Spreading heavy along your tongue, swallowing around the head as his thighs tense, muscles flexing and rippling as they strain to keep still.

“‘Nami’s dick is heavy, sweetheart,” He’s gasping before you can fully take in the stretch of his cock, hips twisting as his eyes flutter closed. It’s been a while, you can tell, with the way his balls are clenched tight, his hand morphed into a fist— careful not to grip your hair. Your spit bubbles and pools around his cock, slick and wet, sliding between the seams of your lips and dripping down your throat, down your sternum, down his thighs. “And you’re taking it so well.”

Running your tongue along his big, veiny cock, his head falls forward— adam’s apple bobbing as he lets out a pleased moan. His cock fills your empty mouth, stuffing it full like a pre-lubed fleshlight, his balls slapping against your chin in sticky, wet plaps. Collecting drool, it froths between your lips and his cock, bubbly and white until your noises are sloppy and loud. “That’s it, good boy, take this load down your pretty little throat. . .”

Gasping on his cock, Kento’s hand holds you close, until you’re buried against his pubes, until your throat is squeezing and contracting and wrapped plush around the thick shaft of his dick. You can feel it, each and every twitch and throb, each hit, sticky rope that paints your mouth as he cums down your throat, ropes shooting down your tongue and sticking to the roof of your mouth. You’ve done so good, such a good boy, marked for Sir, offering a few hollow sucks to his spasming cock before he pulls you off.

You’d rather he paint your face, but you trust him, swallowing the bitter, salty cream as he whispers gentle praises.

“You’re perfect,” Kento mumbles through heavy gasps, rubbing away the fat tears that roll down your cheeks. Such a sweet, pliant boy, leaning into his touch as he gently pushes you back down, off your knees.

Now he’s got you folded, knees bent back in such a slutty, shameless display. The blond squeezes at his cock, his large hand sliding into a fist that clamps down around his beading, shiny slit, then slowly back down to the thick, veiny shaft. Yeah, that’s good, how it slips and slides with rhythmatic pumps. You’d like to imagine that’s how it’ll be when his cock is inside, stretching past your rim and splitting you open, sliding against your velvety walls until he fills you up with his hot, sticky cum.

“Spit,” he says, gentle at first, but hardening as your poor, pitiful attempt at spitting down your own cock turns into gurgles of drool and incoherent moans. He grips your jaw, angling it just right— till you’re resting back on your elbows and have enough space to land a warm, wet glob right down the slit. “Good boy. Look at me, pretty. Like this.”

You watch as he spits down onto his own cock, runny and wet, which stands as a reminder of its own. His fist is so big, but it’s not nearly enough to swallow his cock down. You watch it pop free from his tight grip, loud squelches with each and every movement. Every time he throbs, pulses, shifts— you hear it all.

“That’s it, atta boy, my good little cocksleeve,” You— it must be you, there’s no one else he’s speaking to. Still, with your hand squeezing your throbbing shaft there’s not much you can say, airy little moans and sweet, high gasps leaving your pouty lips as you buck— up, up, up. A thin trail of drool slips down your chin, warm and wet and— oh, that’s nice— trailing down your cock. “That’s it, stick your tongue out.”

You really do play the part, tongue on display as you fuck your fist silly, bumping slits with the blond. Soft and sticky, loud and wet squelching until his own large, warm palm envelops both your cocks, bumping and grinding and sliding so messy. You nearly burst into hysterics when the warmth is gone, and Nanami’s gaze tears away from the pre oozing between your shafts. “Ask Sir for more, angel.”

“Mm, waitwaitwait, don’t— don’t stop,” You keen, stumbling over your tongue. Your brows pinch, eyes glazed over with unshed tears. “Kenny— Sir, please.”

“Good boy,” All but purring, his hands roam along the plush, round mounds of your ass. “Yeah,” His dick slips between the slick skin of your perineum, dragging along the sensitive skin— the head of his cock catching on your rim when his thrusts turn too eager. “You’re a good boy, asking like that.”

“You like grinding on Sir's cock don’t you? Getting me all wet. . .” Just as warm and wet as he’d thought, cooped up in his office and fucking into his fist, lube gushes and trickles out with every deliberate, shallow rut forward. Your balls bounce and twitch, slick and shiny with a mixture of pre. Your moans, so pretty, high and nasally— incoherent and blabbering. The slurp of his cock goes straight to your balls, tightening as you whine like a bitch for it. And his grip, once gentle and steady, leads down to your ass, keeping it spread as he slides the big head of his cock along your pretty little rim, again, and again, and again. It’s more menuevering than bouncing, through your fucked out haze you try to think; you want him to ruin you.

A knot tightens in your tummy, tingling in your balls as your thighs tighten and your legs tremble— fuck, you’re cumming, hard and all at once, it catches you off guard and a choked squeal is knocked from your throat, rope after rope spraying along your own chest.

“I—” You sob, cock convulsing against your tummy as Kento groans. “I didn’t mean to— didn’t know, m’sor—”

He hushes you, a low growl in his throat as his eyes roam up your tummy, past your hard nipples and land on the splatter of cum collecting between the plush hills of your pecs. “S’okay, it just felt too good, mhm? I bet your pussy feels so good, baby— perfect, pretty little pussy swallowing up my cock.”

You don’t expect him to say that— that’s the last thing you expect, eyes rolling back in your skull as you moan, wholehearted and slutty. With the wet squeeze of lube along your bottom half, slicker and sloppier than ever before, your hole winks back at him. Your perfect, pretty little pussy. “That okay, sweetheart? Can Sir pound this hole till it aches for him?”

Your response is barely coherent, garbled sounds and babbling that roughly translates to ‘please’ as thick fingers prod at your tight, puckered hole. Your loud moans are hushed as Kento leans down, close to your ear. His fingers slide against your entrance, sticky lube sliding along with them and connecting to your puffy rim. They feel so big, so long and thick when he taps them against your hole, barely breaching the tiny gape of your rim. “Gonna get you ready for Sir’s dick, gonna finger that cunt nice and slow, get that sweet boy-hole stretched out.”

“Kenny,” You hiccup, uncontrollable tears streaming down your face as you reach forward to press his fingers closer, a tiny gasp leaving your lips as your entrance is breached. You don’t miss the groan you earn in return, deep and shaky as the man takes the opportunity to slip his fingers right in, past the burning stretch of your fluttering ‘cunt’ that sucks the digits deeper and deeper into your gummy walls. “Can take it, pound it, Sir.”

“Look at me, watch me, sugar. Watch Sir fuck this little hole full.” You squeeze your eyes shut for as long as the reluctant, bratty little part of your brain lets you before staring down into hazel. Until his fingers have you seeing stars and rocking back into them like a cock hungry slut, you’ve never felt more full until his cock kisses your insides, leaving you sloppy and open and full.

Your voice isn’t nearly as loud as the wet squelch and slap of skin against skin, his cock sliding in and out your puffy hole as lube gushes out around his dick in white ringlets. Like you’ve creamed on his cock, he can see it slip back inside with each thrust. Your knees over his shoulders, Kento hauls your body up, and with a tiny, wee and pathetic ‘ah!’ you follow suit, your cute little hole clenching and fluttering around his thick, leaking cock.

“Give me a little more, just a little more of this pussy,” You can’t contain the squeals and squeaks that leave your mouth when the blond pistons his hips, a bruising grip on your waist that only gets harder as he grinds his cock down into you. He’s filling you up so good, his balls slapping against your ass with each rushed, rough thrust that has your mind scrambled just as much as your guts. You can’t take it, hands scrambling to grab at something, anything that’ll keep you from screaming.

Pounding into you, your head falls back as you take it, nice and slow, stretching you out— fast and rough, steady and patient— Kento groans above you, bullying his cock inside, grinding while your hips squirm. Mouth open with an unending stream of moans, he breaks you in, turns you into his good boy— his perfect fleshlight. Wet little hole clenching and spasming, his weight pins you down as your greedy hole milks him for all he’s worth.

“Cummin’, Nami, s’too much— M’can’t—” Whining and crying, his touches go right to your head as much as they do your puffy hole."Kenny," you whine, long and pitiful, a pout of a noise that hits him right where you want it to, just as his cock does inside of you. You whine again when your rocking turns into frantic overstimulated grinding, reveling in the stretch of his cock and the rub of your prostate. He groans, thick and gravelly, hands coming up to squeeze at your chest.

“I’ve got you, c’mere, hold Sir’s hand,” He chokes out, feeling it too. The tightening of his balls, the way his dick aches and pulses inside you, the way his cum is starting to kiss your insides and spurt straight onto that small bundle of nerves— fuck, it’s so deep. His thrusts are hard and deep, thick rope after thick rope frothing around his shaft as he fucks it deeper inside. “So good for me,” You never want it to stop, not the pump of his cock, not the drag of his tip against your entrance, not the filthy sounds, not the cum filling up your hole till you can’t move. Your grip on his knuckles is tight, nails digging into the skin of his hands. “That’s it, such a pretty boy, cumming on my cock.”

A searing knot of pressure grows in your stomach, filling as you bear down on his cock and sob on your whimpers. For a minute you think you’re going to pass out, everything going dark as you spurt all over yourself, globs of cum spraying hard onto your chin and splashing back on the blond. He makes you ride it out, offering hard, shallow thrusts to satiate the erratic spasming of your hole, and places a few sweet, tender kisses to your sweaty jaw.

౨ৎ

You wake with a small moan, limbs racked in small aches as your body melts into silk sheets. It smells like him: warm, cozy, and comforting, like a hug. Grateful for the dim, ambient lighting of his bedroom, your eyelids flutter open slowly, and there’s not much to adjust to. You’re clean— its the first thing you notice, a faint scent of soap lingering on your skin as your aching body scrambles for Kento’s warmth.

“I’m here,” He says behind you, hairs on your neck standing straight as you blink at him. Carrying a glass of ice water and a plate of meringue cookies— whisked perfectly. Cute, cloud-like spirals that sit on a porcelain plate— the same ones he watched you make, a smile pulls at your cheeks. “Hungry?” The muscles of your biceps flex as you push yourself up, body subconsciously leaning toward the blond until he’s sat next to you, his touches gentle and fleeting.

He feeds you a cookie, watches your teeth sink into the sweet, then wipes away the remnants of sugar from your lips. So tender, your heart flutters when he takes a bite after you— an indirect kiss.

He swallows, throat bobbing, lashes batting against his high cheekbones, before parting his lips, “I was thinking of extending my stay.”

The room feels ten times brighter, ten times louder, and yet, your heartbeat overpowers it all.

“I like you,” The words tumble from your mouth, almost as if he hadn’t just spent the last hour taking you apart and building you back up. You have nothing to lose, and everything to gain. “I more-than-like you, Kenny.”

And, without missing a beat, Kento answers truthfully this time.

“I love you too.”

[creamflix]

SHE SAID WHAT?! — gender neutral reader  featuring: nanami kento, choso kamo, toji fushiguro, ryomen sukuna content warnings: established relationship. workplace venting, mentions of murder, pure fluff & crack — masterlist here ☆

"and then, she just took the credit," you huffed, burrowing deeper into kento’s chest as he absently rubbed slow circles on your back. "like, i’m the one who stayed late, again, but suddenly it’s all her idea? unbelievable."

kento hummed softly, his chin resting atop your head. he had been his usual calm and comforting self, letting you unload the stress of the day without interruption.

"and my manager — useless as always," you continued, gesturing dramatically in frustration. "he didn’t even say anything! just nodded along like a bobblehead and let her steal my work. can you believe that?"

"sounds like your manager has no backbone."

you blinked, tilting your head up to look at him. "you’re… not wrong, but — wait, did you just… agree with me?"

he quirked an eyebrow, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smirk. "of course. you’re right. your work should be acknowledged properly."

"i mean, yeah, it should," you said, sitting up a little, surprised by his uncharacteristic input. "but — wow, i wasn’t expecting you to actually comment."

"did you think i wasn’t listening?" he asked, and you felt a twinge of guilt at his tone, soft but pointed.

"no, no! it’s just — you don’t usually…" you trailed off, unsure of how to phrase it.

"interject?" he offered, his smirk now more pronounced. "maybe i just decided that this time warranted a response."

you let out a dramatic sigh, dropping back into his chest. "i guess it’s because it’s been driving me crazy, and you’re the only one who actually listens without dismissing me."

his arms tightened around you slightly. "it’s not just listening. i understand your frustration," he said simply.

you tilted your head back to squint at him. "so, what? you’re my emotional support and my husband now?"

"if that's what you need," he replied, deadpan, though the faint gleam in his eyes betrayed his amusement.

"ugh, you’re too perfect sometimes," you grumbled, but you couldn’t help the little smile tugging at your lips.

"hardly," he replied, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "but if my occasional commentary keeps you sane, i’m happy to oblige."

"you’re gonna spoil me," you teased, poking his side.

"only the way you deserve," he said, his voice low and warm, pulling you back into his embrace.

"and then, jason said he deserved the promotion because he ‘inspires the team,’" you scoffed, leaning against the arm of the couch while choso sat cross-legged on the floor beside you. “which is funny, considering the only thing he inspires is resentment.”

choso nodded, his dark eyes fixed on you intently, and you thought he was just listening — until he reached over, grabbed a little notepad from the coffee table, and scribbled something down.

"wait, are you writing this down?" you asked, staring at him in disbelief.

"yeah," he said matter-of-factly, not even looking up from his notes.

"why?" you asked, genuinely flabbergasted.

"so I don’t forget who’s who," he said simply, his tone as earnest as ever. "your stories have a lot of… moving parts. jason, cody, miya —" he paused, flipping back a page. "and your manager, who doesn’t step in when things get tense?"

your jaw dropped. "you remembered that?"

"of course," he replied, tilting his head like it was obvious. "you tell me these things, so i want to make sure i understand. otherwise, how am i supposed to keep up when you bring it up again?"

you blinked at him, momentarily speechless. "cho, you don’t… have to remember all this. it’s just dumb office stuff."

"it’s not dumb if it’s bothering you," he said simply, setting the notepad down and turning to look at you properly. "besides, it’s… interesting."

"interesting?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

he shrugged. "it’s like a soap opera. but real. i don’t understand why humans… argue so much, but it’s kind of fascinating. like, jason thinking he deserves a promotion —" he gestured vaguely, his lips quirking upward slightly. "what did he call himself? inspirational? sounds delusional to me."

you let out a surprised laugh. "you’re not wrong. but you seriously don’t have to do this," you insisted, pointing at the notepad.

"i want to," he said, his voice so gentle and sincere it made your chest ache. "it matters to you, so it matters to me. and if writing it down helps me remember, what’s the harm?"

you stared at him for a long moment before finally sliding off the couch to sit beside him on the floor, wrapping your arms around him. "you’re too sweet, you know that?"

he blinked, his ears faintly pink. "i just… want to be helpful."

"you’re more than helpful," you murmured against his shoulder. "but just so you know, i’m gonna keep roasting jason, and i’m not apologizing for it."

"noted," he said, and you couldn’t help but laugh as he actually reached for the notepad to jot it down.

"and then — ugh, this part kills me — he had the nerve to tell stacy she should 'smile more' during meetings," you said, waving your hands in exasperation. "like, the audacity!"

toji, sprawled out on the couch with an arm behind his head, cocked an eyebrow. "what's his name?"

"what?"

"the guy. what's his name?" he asked, his tone too casual, which you’d learned was a bad sign.

"toji, no," you said immediately, glaring at him.

"what? ’m just askin'."

"no, you’re not. you’re plotting. don’t think i don’t know that look."

he grinned, sharp and easy. "baby, i’m not gonna do anything… serious."

"your definition of 'serious' is murder," you deadpanned.

he shrugged, unabashed. "what can i say? i’m a problem-solver."

"tojiiiiii," you groaned, dragging a hand down your face. "you can’t just go around beating people up because they’re assholes."

"why not? sounds efficient to me," he said, stretching lazily like this was a perfectly reasonable argument.

"because i can’t go back to work and pretend nothing happened when the HR guy’s in the hospital with a broken nose," you shot back.

"you could," he said, smirking. "you’re a good actress when you need to be."

"toji!"

"fine, fine," he said, raising his hands in mock surrender, though the grin never left his face. "but if he does anything else, let me know. i’ll make it look like an accident."

"you’re impossible," you muttered, crossing your arms.

"hey, i’m just lookin' out for my girl. and gotta protect the other ladies as well," he said with a casual shrug, but his tone was surprisingly sincere.

you stared at him for a beat. "you realize being a girl’s girl doesn’t usually involve violence, right?"

"eh," he said, waving it off. "’m an innovator."

"more like a liability," you muttered under your breath, but despite your exasperation, you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

"liability or not," he said, leaning in close, his grin softer now, "you know i’d take care of anyone who messes with you, right?"

you rolled your eyes but leaned into him anyway. "yeah, i know. but maybe… let’s aim for less jail time next time you feel protective, okay?"

he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. "no promises."

"and then she has the nerve to say my presentation lacked creativity, like, excuse me —"

"who is this again?" sukuna interrupts, lounging back against the headboard with his arms crossed.

"jules. i’ve mentioned her a million times — she’s the one who —"

"don’t care," he cuts you off, his tone flat as his crimson eyes flick over to you. "why are you wasting your breath on her?"

"i’m not wasting my breath! i’m venting," you huff, turning to glare at him. "it’s called being in a relationship. you listen to your partner’s frustrations, even if it’s not directly your problem."

he raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. "you’re frustrated over a bug you can squash under your shoe. why bother letting her live rent-free in your head?"

"it’s not that simple! i can’t just… ignore her. i have to work with her," you explain, crossing your arms.

"not for long," sukuna mutters, a smirk tugging at his lips.

you narrow your eyes at him. "what’s that supposed to mean?"

"nothing," he says smoothly, but there’s a dangerous glint in his gaze that makes you suspicious.

"kuna…"

he lets out a dramatic sigh. "look, i don’t see the point in talking about insignificant humans. it’s tedious, and honestly, beneath you. why let them get to you when they’re not even worth a second of your time?"

"because, unfortunately, they’re there," you snap. "not everyone gets to waltz through life on their own terms, terrorizing whoever they want."

"that’s your first mistake," he says smugly.

you open your mouth to retort, but the next day at work, you notice something strange. jules' desk is eerily empty.

"weird," you mutter to yourself. "she didn’t say anything about taking a day off."

the day after that? still empty. the third day? HR sends an email that jules has "stepped down unexpectedly."

you stare at the screen, slack-jawed.

when you confront sukuna later, he’s reclining on the couch like he owns the place (which, let’s be real, he kinda does), looking waayy too pleased with himself.

"you wouldn’t happen to know anything about jules suddenly leaving, would you?"

he smirks, not even bothering to hide it. "told you she wasn’t worth your time."

"sukuna!"

"what? i didn’t lay a finger on her."

"then what did you do?" you demand.

he leans forward, his grin sharp and teasing. "just helped her realize she wasn’t cut out for the job. gave her a little… encouragement to pursue other paths."

you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. "i can’t believe you. you can’t just go around scaring my coworkers off!"

"worked, didn’t it?" he says, utterly unbothered. "now, can we stop talking about work and focus on something that actually matters?"

"suku —"

"like what’s for dinner," he interrupts, flashing you a toothy grin.

you hate that you’re already planning to let it slide.

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[girrrthingszzz]

hhheeyyy guysss I’m backkk….

18+, unspecified male!character x male reader, reader has a dick, dick sucking under the desk, messy!!

he knows it’s unprofessional. extremely unprofessional. But, he just can’t help it. He’s under your desk, slobbering up and down your cock, and it just feels so right. He knows that anyone could walk in, and it just turns him on even more.

“Mhm, keep going… yer doing so good, baby…” Your praise fills his ears, and he can feel himself twitch in his pants. Honestly, he looks straight out of a porno. His face completely flushed, drool, spit, and pre-cum covering his face while his pretty pink lips are wrapped around your cock, absolutely drooling all over you. He pulls his lips off your cock, looking up at you with his eyes glazed over and brimming with tears. “[n-name], please.. please let me cum, please…” he begged, maintaining eye contact with you as he began to lick up and down your dick, dragging his tongue up and down the vein on the side of you cock. You bring your hand down to his head, grabbing his hair and pulling him back onto your cock. "You're really good at this," you say, your voice strained as he bobs his head up and down on your cock. "Maybe too good." You pause, your hands tightening in his hair. "Maybe I should just keep you here under my desk all the time." You laugh a bit, and he twitches in his pants again. He loves that idea, but he would rather die than admit that. The idea basically drives him wild, and he begins to suck in your dick even harder!! Your eyes roll back in your head as he sucks you harder, your hips jerking up to meet his mouth. "F-fuck, fuck, fuck…" you choke out, your hand gripping his hair so tightly it's almost painful. But he likes it. (slut.) "'m gonna cum, 'm gonna cum all over your face..." your body tenses up and you let out a loud groan, you cock twitching and pulsing in his mouth as you release. You shoot your thick load of cum onto his tongue, filling his mouth.

honestly I was thinking about kyoya ootori, or nanami kento, but it could be any of ur fav characters!

heyyytt I’m back from my 11 month break with a barely finished work and a new theme!!! Send me requests NOW!!

[wysteria-bloom]

▨ " you give in so easy "

JJK characters react to you taking their hand off your thigh

Genre : mostly sfw, suggestive

Warnings : Sukuna :)

A/n : OBSESSED with jjk atm. Yuji is fucking KILLING it as a main character I'm so in love. Requests are 100% open, ESPECIALLY for jjk.

Characters : gojo, nanami, sukuna, geto

⟢ gojo satoru ␥

Would literally be SO POUTY afterwards. Because what the hell did he do? Would try it again and again and again until you eventually give up because he's petty like that and when you do he gives you the most cheesiest annoying obnoxious little shit grin and raises his brows at you as if to say," I win." Pulls you in for a cuddle after that because he thinks you're adorable when you give in to him, cooing a," you give in so easy, hon~" right into your ear.

⟢ nanami kento ␥

WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO HIM?? Would think he did something to annoy you today that he wasn't aware of. The second you do it bro literally does a full turn towards you and is like," how about you talk instead of insulting me like this." You'll need to tell him it's a prank quick or else he might actually fall out with you for the rest of the night. An apology is definitely in order as well. Nanami deserves the fucking world, after all. You kiss across his face until he tells you to stop, which he never usually does. He just sort of basks in your affection any chance he gets with that serene little smile on his face.

⟢ ryomen sukuna ␥

Oh lord... not a smart idea. On the first time you do it, he just glares at you silently before putting his hand back on your thigh because who the hell do you think you are preventing him from touching what's his? The second time you move his hand? His hand moves up your thigh and inwards, like he was warning you. Third time? Moves up again. Fourth time? You're gonna have to stop before his hand cups something else. When you stop he just grumbles," That's what I fuckin' thought." and keeps his hand there, thumb caressing your inner thigh teasingly until you decide to do something about it.

⟢ geto suguru ␥

Geto is usually a very reasonable man. He doesn't let his emotions get the better of him. But let's say he's had a pretty shitty day and you just happen to want to pull this prank on him at the worst possible moment, his resolve may just snap. The first time you do it, he frowns at you expectantly, waiting for you give him some sort of explanation. The second time you do it he was quick to grab the meat of your thigh again and have a tight grip on it, a sweet little smile on his face," You're testing me tonight aren't you, beautiful?" He cooed out lowly with those dark eyes of his glinting at you challengingly. Yeah, you don't try anything else after that... or maybe you do and you have to buy a new bed frame the next day.

[diluczangelz]

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ .

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ .

Little acts of love is what’s gonna take a boy to a man and these MEN know how to treat their partners

˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊ ˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊ ˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊ ˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎

He 100% kisses every inch of exposed skin when the opportunity arises.

Your bracelet? He’s kissing your wrist after securing the clasp.

Your necklace? He’s moving your hair and kisses the back of your neck and curve of your shoulders.

Help putting on shoes? He’s kissing your ankle and up your calf, taking his sweet time savouring the moment.

Helping to zip up your dress? (For my more feminine readers) he’s kissing up your spine as the zipper slowly closes over each kiss he left; sealing it to your skin.

Sensual shower time and you want him to undress you? (for my male and GN readers) he’s kissing down from the shell of your ear and down to your chest. His hands holding tight to your waist, cementing in the feel of your skin to his memory.

Oh no you dropped something at the table and bend down to pick it up? Yeah his hand immediately covers the corner of the table to protect your head.

You regularly smoke in the morning? Guess who pre-rolled one and left it for you on the bed side table before he went to work, that’s right he did. With fresh water in the cup.

Fresh (either hand picked or hand selected) flowers that he brings to every date and these are florist flowers, not after thought supermarket flowers, he took the time to choose these. Or pick them fresh for you.

[hurlingdown]

          ★         FEED MY FRANKENSTEIN!          — KINKTOBER ‘24!

# finally got around to making a kinktober masterlist. this year, most of the ideas i'll be doing revolve around monsterfucking - e.g. hybrids, werewolves etc, so if you're not into that, please kindly block my kinktober tag. top!reader only. mdni, thanks! <3

WEEK ONE. fuck you like an animal — ft. werewolf! reader, human! nanami.

synopsis. your husband kento has always secretly prided himself on being the one to tame you. but what happens when you, a fully grown werewolf, gets exposed to the full moon while curse hunting together in an abandoned building? spoilers: you chase, he runs. tags. monsterfucking (werewolves) + rimming, knotting, overstimulation, creampie, male squirting, dry orgasm, multiple orgasms.

WEEK TWO. backyard bunny — ft. human! reader, bunny hybrid! zoro.

synopsis. it's just your jinxed luck on halloween night to come home to a shattered window and a completely downturned house. well, guess what: surprise, motherfucker. the culprit is a hot guy in your bed with bunny ears and a cute tail, and now it's up to you to fuck him through his heat. tags. marathon sex + ftm! zoro, pwp, prone bone, mating press, cowgirl, you get it. there's a lot. lactation, cockwarming, cunnilingus, squirting, creampie(s).

WEEK THREE. beast feast — ft. beast! reader, human-form! sukuna.

synopsis. in another life, they only knew you as his guard dog. in this one, he's yours to own. or, alternatively: sukuna misses his mate so much that it begins to physically affect his vessel's body. they set off on a little mission in search of you, only to find themselves walking riiight into your waiting jaws. tags. oviposition (eggs) + monsterfucking, size difference, cum inflation, belly bulge, breeding kink, knotting, sukuna's asshole leaks slick, soft & needy sukuna.

thirst. gunplay w/ toji: you’re a notorious mafia boss, and he’s a sharp-witted spy sent out to honey trap you. what comes next?

WEEK FOUR. hot demon b!tches near you!!! — ft. succubi! gojo & geto.

synopsis. getting two sex-addicted hot demon bitches as your roommates wasn't exactly part of the contract, but they might just be the second best part of it. oh. and the best part? they are utterly, uncontrollably obsessed with you. tags. threesome + womb tattoos, breeding kink, rimming, face-sitting, multiple orgasms, riding, male squirting, spanking, dacryphilia, slut-shaming, felching

disclaimer. please comment / send me an ask if you wish to be tagged! also, due to work overload, i might not be able to finish all of these before october ends, but rest assured that i'll continue them in november and so on. enjoy!

[ashnnix]

Various JJk men x Male husband reader

Tw: gbang,double pen,buldge,cum inflation, darcyphilia, spanking,forced marriage, dubcon,bj,polysex,cockwarming,almost NTR. Aphrodisiac,squirting

Summary:

As a husband of the famous Gojo who saved japan you always held your head high. Every man from jujutsu society is devastated to hear the news you're happily wed to the honoured one .But they always have a plan to have you in their arms, too. By having a gangbang with you and marry them after

Minors dni

fem align dni

PT.2

"Honey! I'm off to kill bunch of special grades, I might come home late!"

You hurriedly walked to your door to give your husband a good bye kiss. Being Satoru's husband is a blessing

"Leaving me without a kiss? How cruel" you jokingly said, you heard him laugh at your pun. Satoru pulled you from your waist a firm grip that almost made you whimper

"Kiss me" Without hesitation you pulled him by the neck, a quick kiss for him. You dont want to make him late you affectionately held his hands and also gave it a kiss

"Be safe okay? " Gojo gave you a warm smile, he also gave your hands a kiss his warm lips making you shiver

"You know how strong I am honey" Satoru patted your head and left your home. You didn't notice his dark smirk, eyes filled with lust. Gojo bit his lip in arousal

'Oh Y/N...'

After cleaning your home you took a break you sat on your sofa, taking a sip of the tea you made. You heard a knock from the door, you know it wasn't Satoru, it made you worried a little bit

You opened the door, your jaw dropped on the floor

It was all the men you rejected for Gojo

Looking at you with such lusted eyes looking down at you like you are their meal for the whole day

Frustrated you folded your arms glaring at the three Getou, Nanami and Choso

"When are you guys going to give up! Can't you see this ring I'm happily married!" You screamed at them while presenting your ring shining brightly

"Now now Y/N we just want to present you a gift for newly weds. We dont mean harm" Getou said smoothly with his charming smile he only use at you

Lies, its all lies and you can see it

Nanami cleared his throat avoiding eye contact

"We really meant no harm" Nanami blushed of how apron looks cute on you, he can't wait to fuck you already

"Congratulations Y/N" Choso gave you box with a cake inside, written ontop was 'Congratulations on marriage'

You felt slightly bad considering they went this far just to congratulate you. With a sigh you opened the door wider

"Fine fine, come in" you turned your back and walked to the living room you didn't hear how the three men breathed heavily, fighting the urge to pounce at you

The three sat on the couch while you take a seat on the solo sofa. You saw how Choso place the cake gently on the table, you crave something sweet today so you stand up to get a plate to eat the cake after taking off your apron

While you are rummaging to your plates the three men put a lot of aphrodisiac to the cake, enough to fuck you till morning

You grab a piece of cake, you look at the three men before taking a bite

"So how's life? Found someone yet?"

The three men clenched their hands, impatient. Their breath hitched when you finally took a bite of the cake

"We can't move on from you, Y/N"

Your body felt hot and heavy, you dropped the cake and the spoon on the floor

"Ah-ahh... wha-what is hngh! Happening?" Your confused why you suddenly felt too horny you and Satoru just had a morning sex

You tried to stand up with your wobbly legs, your cock wet from the precum its leaking. You pushed your thigh together hiding your erection but the friction from your clothes made you feel good

'nghh~ fe-feels good!more!more♡︎!" You drooled. You gasped when you realized your husband is not home. Your eyes locked in with the three males whos already taking off their clothes. Your body moves on its own, walking closer to them. Your knees went weak and fell on Nanamis chest. The smell of the mans cologne made you crazy and lose yourself

You rub your hard cock with his, Nanami groaned at the friction his dick is also getting hard

"Fuck, you feel so go-good" Nanami groaned also letting out a small whimper.Your bit your lip, Nanami's whimpering does something in your body

Getou and Choso stroke themselves at the scene letting Nanami have the first

"Go on, Kento, you can take him first"

Nanami wasted no time. He bends you over on the couch face down ass up he ripped off your shorts and boxer. His dick went harder when he saw your ass leak from being turned on

You still have your mind back, your mind is still not blank. So with your weak arms you tired to push Nanami away

"N-no you arent m-ngh!♡︎ husband, Ca-call Toru..." Your sentence was broke but they understand it well you saw Getou walked closer and crouch to give your forehead a kiss

"Satoru just buying something from the sex store for this sex we will use a lot of toys♡︎, he'll comeback later..." Choso also walked closer and pull your hair to make you look at him, you wince from the pain

'Toru...did what?'

"Right now, we, your husbands shall take care of your arousal" Your eyes almost rolled back how horny that sentence made you

You felt Nananami rubbing againts your ass, he opened the lube and squirted the liquid all over your ass making it look lewd

"Nooo...Nami haaa....st-sto- ahh!" You felt Nanami spank you leaving red hand prints on your ass

"You tell me that but your ass keeps rubbing on me" you sniffed in embarrassment .Your ass rubs on him not having enough patience

Without a warning Nanami dick plunge inside you, the hot burning sensation and the way it hit your prostate made you roll your eyes back and squirted your cum

"Oohh!!♡︎ cu-cumming!!" Your body arches as your dick continues to let out sperm. Nanami groaned and whimpered how your ass tightens around him. Getou giggled horny and hot at the scene infront of him

"You came just from inserting it? How cute Y/N" Your eyes let out tears as you lay limp on the couch, your drool soaking the sofa

"Ahh! Ahh! Haa! Ngh!"

Nanami thrust inside fast and rough, not forgiving you for rejecting him

Fwop Fwop

"Your so tight ngh!" You whimpered as you tighten up more, hearing Nanami whimper and let out sounds is making you horny

"Ohhh! Ahhh! Ah! ♡︎♡︎♡︎" your moans and whimper made Choso hot, he continued to stroke his dick. He clicked his tounge getting impatient. Choso pulled your head again his dick on your face

Getou continue to stroke his dick not stopping Choso, he understands how horny Choso already is

"Suck" Y/N hesitated and shook his head whining

"No~ do- ahh! Wanna...." Choso scoffed and slap your face hard, you didn't know why your dick twicthed

"Its not a request mmhm!" Choso grabs a hold of your hair, he pushed his dick on your mouth forcing you to deep throat him. You choked and your eyes rolled back. Tears brimming in the corner of your eyes

"Mmhm! Hmm! Ohmm!♡︎" The way Nanami thrust didn't help, it made you take Choso dick deep in your throat. Your hands went to stroke your dick ready to cum again. But Nanami pulled both of your hands taking him a lot more deeper

"Ohm! Hmm!" Your tongue continued to please Choso. Your eyes saw his face, flushed and horny. His whimpers can be heard all over the room

"Mgh...haa ahh your mouth feels good!" Choso groaned he thrust his hips the tip of his mouth hitting the deepest part of your mouth. Your jaw started to hurt already. You closed your eyes as tears flowed down your cheek. Your dick is now leaking precum staining the sofa again, your hands gripped Nanamis hands

Nanami smirked his glasses getting foggy from breathing hot air, his hips stuttered. Hes about to cum deep inside your ass, he can also feel your about to cum too. The way you shake, your ass twicthimg every thrust

Nanami leaned closer to your ear, with his deep voice whispering

"I'm gonna cum inside you" Your eyes widen, your body getting heated up

With one final thrust, both of you three simultaneously came. Your ass filled with Nanamis cum, your mouth choking on Chosos dick his semen also made you choke forcing you to swallow it all

"Mmhm! Ohmm! Mmngh!♡︎" you moaned,whimpered and cried. You kept cumming but your dick is still hard, you needed more...more!!♡︎♡︎

"Ahhh fuck you feel so good, so this is what that damn Gojo had to feel everyday" Nanami pulled his still hard dick watching a strand of cum connecting his tip to your rim

Choso also pulled out from your mouth watching you lay limp on the couch, your ass still up. Choso pulled back his hair already hot and sweaty from the sensation

"Your mouth feels good, I want- no need you everyday"

Your body layed limp shaking uncontrollably, your dick still hard, begging to cum again

Getou smirked of how fucked you looked, but not fucked enough. He will fuck you so hard till you can't speak, move passing out till morning

"Its my turn now darling"

You felt Getou big hands touch your waist, forcing you to lay on your back. He smirked darkly when he saw your dick twicth, hard and swollen stained with cum, your balls also twitching ready to let out bunch of your loads

His eyes moved to Getou catching his breath

"Choso lets double pen♡︎" Choso didn't hesitate he pulled you up from your armpits. Suprised you didn't fight back, he smirked how you just gave up

You felt two hot dick tip touch your rim rubbing it. With your last strength you tried to push Getou away touching his pecs

"Nooo- ahh p-please....Go-toru might see ahhh~ us!"

Choso and Getou suddenly went inside you without a warning, the grith of their cock forcing your ass to take their shape.You squealed loud body twitching from the pain and pleasure all at once. Both men shake and whimpered of how tight your ass felt. Both men groaned their dick touching each other inside you, hitting your deepest parts

"Ohhh! Shoo big! Im gonna cu-cumming!!" You came from the sensation the way they hit your deep parts sends electricity in your brain making you dumb on their dick

"Ooh! Big shoo good!! Ngh!~♡︎" the three men were shocked how hot and lewd your body reacts to double pen

The two men inside you only smirked darkly. They both simultaneously thrusted harshly inside hitting your prostate again and again without any breaks

Your eyes rolled back your pupils turned hearts. Your body arched your head resting on Choso shoulders. You saw his face eyes closed, focusing on pleasing his husband

"Sh-shit Y/N! You haa...ahhh..oh! Feel so good!" Getou moans are so much whinier than the two men

Nanami continued to watch the scene taking a break by drinking water

"Y-Y/N....mhm! Ohh!" Choso moans become much more needier the way his hips stuttered, his eyes almost rolled back of how tight your ass clenched around the both of them

Getou thrust was violent he cannot also forgive you for rejecting him. At your dumb fuck state you must realized now how these men are obsessed with you

Your hands touched the buldge in your stomach, whining of how deep they are inside you

Fwop fwop

The thrust becomes sloppy because of Nanamis' previous orgasm making your ass more wet

"Ahh! Haa! Ah! Choso~ Su!Suguru!" The two men suddenly came, moaning their name made them cum quick. You just had a strong effect on them

The feeling of being full to the brim, hot sweaty men all over you made you cum again. Your dick squirted all over, making a mess on your chest and stomach. Some got in Getou's cheek

Getou wiped it using his fingers, he put it inside his mouth, shaking on how sweet your cum taste

"Haa...n-no more..." But your dick didn't listen. it's still hot and hard

The two men stayed inside you, cockwarming them. Your body continues to be shaking, twicthing. Its your body who begs for more not you

You heard your front door open a familiar voice you heard

"Oh, Y/N! Im back! Look what I bought! Bunch of lube and vibrator!" The voice of Gojo made your heart drop, you saw him enter the living room. Your eyes filled with tears of how shocked he looked

"Toru....I'm sorry I'm such a bad husband..." You sniffled your tears, looking away from him ashamed of how you look. A whore who who just fucked his coworkers and friends

The two men inside you decideds to pull out, bunch of cum leaving your insides a small puddle of cum on the couch

You felt Gojo hands patted your head lovingly

"The others are on their way, Sukuna, Naoya, and Toji...so while we wait want another round?" Your eyes showed confusion. You want to stop, but your dick keeps getting hard . With hesitation, you nodded. After this, you want an explanation

[rodolfoparras]

Thinking about straight friend that gets all worked up whenever he smokes, couldn’t care less that the two of you are dudes or close friends only cares about his cock thats hard and weeping and pressing up against his sweats, looks like a whole sight grinding up against you, in an old and worn shirt that he stole from you , the fabric practically spilling past his shoulder and giving you easy access to his tits, your calloused fingers pinching and twisting his nipples and leaving his cock leaking, your own cock slotted between his clothed cheek and leaving a mess of pre for anyone to see, and it doesn’t take much before his hands find their way to your pants , and swiftly pull out your dick, “so big sir,” he pants out, before he starts lazily stroking both of you all while sloppily kissing you on the lips, just being like that with him til the sweet thing cums, and when he finally comes back down to earth he looks at you all wide eyed lips all puffy and red while a sweet thank you escapes him.

The next morning he acts like nothing had happened, treats you like nothing but a mere friend, the word sir is replaced with dude and bro the hungry gaze is replaced with a sweet look on his face, the only conversation you have is about the last football game or his progress at the gym but both of you know what happens during your smoking sessions

[bonus: gets so cranky whenever the two of you can’t have a smoking session, maybe you’re busy with work or studies but either way you’re too busy to have them, he claims it’s just the pent up stress that’s getting to him, it’s not like he’s annoyed at the fact that you won’t be messing around anytime soon, practically acts like a little bitch for a whole week til you pin him to the couch and take him right there; no excuse to smoke needed]

[sleep-0-deprived]

I need a reader who's the one smitten to the male character(any)🙏

Reader pampers the male chara with love and spends things for him, but the male chara gets tired with the reader pampering him but just keeps on spoiling and pampering him.

Then one day reader visits the male chara's work place to pick up male chara only for his worker to flirt with reader, then male chara sees that and gets jealous then dragged him to his car then fucks reader to teach him a lesson that he should only be the one to be pampered and spoiled by reader.

then of course the male chara takes care of reader (after care) to apologize for being rough on reader <3!

- Btw ily your writings 🫶 ive seen many authors writing masterpieces and u're one of them! <3 (i still enjoy ur writings even if its smut and i appreciate you writing for us fellow male readers!)

His boy~ (jealous male character x pampering bottom reader)

A\N omg! You’re far too sweet to me with your praises! I really hope you enjoy I didn’t know what character to put so I just did a few I could imagine acting like this and you can pick<33

Car sex, rough sex, aftercare, neck biting, hair pulling, marking, bruises [character gets a little caught up in the moment and leave marks], anal sex, unprotected sex, semi public sex, handjobs [male reader receiving] <3

It’s no secret you were an affectionate guy, from making your boyfriend his lunches to writing him little love notes for work. Always eager to spend your whole check on him if he even mentions something he likes and you’re always so happy to buy.

Present day here you were happily walking into the front doors of your husbands job, ready to make it to the elevator and bring him his lunch that he insisted you “didn’t” have to make him.

Seeing your husbands co worker waving you wave back “hello Ryan” you speak in an Innocent tone when talking to him as he approaches with a wolfish grin looking you up and down staring from your waist to your hips with his gaze stuck on your ass but of course you didn’t notice you just kept rambling on about random things at one point talking about the weather, well that was until your boyfriend had started noticing you were here and to say he was livid with the way his co worker was staring was an understatement.

“Honey I didn’t know you were here?” Your boyfriend spoke in a soft tone looking over at you and Ryan seeing you holding his lunch as he stares “yep! I was bringing your lunch you must’ve forgot it?” You look over at your boyfriend as he waves to Ryan as he drags you away after all it was about time for him to get off and he was mighty impatient for you.

“I thought I told you to not worry about making my lunch?” He speaks a little worked as he drags you back into the elevator glaring at you silently all internally jealous and pissed about Ryan but not saying anything as he stands next to you “I know but I really wanted to bring you your lunch honey” you try to explain more but you couldn’t the next thing you knew was your arm was gripped tightly by him as he dragged you through his work lobby and out the front door pulling you to his car which was parked in a reserved spot in the dark parking deck “get in now.”

“Are you upset with m—“ before you can say much else you are shoved into the back seat pressing down with your back against the door as you get shut up by your boyfriends mouth on top of yours “lettin him look at you like that on purpose weren’t you baby?..” he grunts out his hand gripping hold of your belt as he grounds his hips to yours with him bitting on your bottom lip all jealous he doesn’t care about much more than stuffing his cock inside you.

“What are you talking about honey?~” his hands move down on your belt undoing it and tugging at the zipper of your jeans trying to get them down as he slips your boxers down fishing your cock out as it lays all soft on your thighs only making you look up at him confused “always were naive weren’t you?” Your boyfriend asks but doesn’t give you time to speak as his hand wraps tightly around the base of your cock as he leans down kissing you making you glad his car has tinted windows.

“Awh~ honeyy~” you whimper out trying to close your thighs and rock your hips into his hand as you moan into the sloppy kisses, your cock oozing pre cum all down your shaft making lubricant for his hand to stroke you with as your cock pulses and gets all stiff under his touch. “Like that’s? Hm?” He huffs out as he starts to stroke you faster being almost painful on your cock as you squirm against the back door tearing up at him as you shriek in pleasure feeling hot knots building up in your stomach.

“Close so close!” You open your eyes hazily trembling as your mouth goes agape, he snarls his lips coming off yours to bury his face into your neck as he starts planing wet kisses over your Adam’s apple holding his thumb to the bulbous tip of your cock pressing down a little to harsh making your eyes all doe like and tearful from the pleasure as the veins in your cock start to become more prominent under your boyfriends touch.

“Better hold it or when I fuck you, I won’t let you cum I’ll put the cock ring in my dash on you baby” your boyfriend speaks out being serous as his passive nature flairs up having you with your pants down in the back of his car as he uses his k nines to drag across your Adam’s apple digging them down into your skin nibbling at it despite his rough demeanor never actually biting hard enough to bring blood only biting to bruise your skin.

“H—Hng~!” You whine out loudly your cock becoming painfully hard in his hand “please! Please lemme cum honey!” You reach your left hand around gripping your boyfriends hair tightly as you hold his face in your leg lifting one thigh up onto his back seat buckling your hips back against the back door of his car as your plump lips part letting drool slip from the corners with your eyes all wide

“need to cum that bad baby?” He coos agaisnt your skin mocking and cruel with venom and lust in his tone as his hand holds the base of your cock a little tighter slipping his thumb off your cock head and onto the veins as he rubs them teasing your cock never giving you enough pressure to cum as his teeth let go of your neck letting the bite marks hit the cool air of his car.

“Yes please! need it so b-a-d” you hic the last part up as your tremble your nose scrunching up lewdly and your eyes closing letting a few tears loose “fine then cum on yourself for me” he hums amused with a grin watching you come all undone in front of him in the back seat of his car as your cock pulses harshly in his hand throbbing under his touch as rope after rope of hot cum shoots from you getting all over the leather seats as it spurts from your angry tip all thin as you do your best to hold open your thighs for him pouting before your boyfriend.

“Want me to fuck you now?” Your boyfriend cranes his head down a little to you as he asks. “Uh—huh” you can only hum out a response as you lay ready and willing to be stuffed trying to catch your breath from your orgasm as you heave laying against the back door of his car slipping your hand out of his hair trying to re adjust yourself.

“I’ve fucked you enough to not need prep, plus I think we both know that greedily little hole don’t care does it?” He murmured out in a grunt undoing his belt pulling at his slacks fucking his cock out of his boxers with it already rock hard ever since he was pulling you out of his job “yeah” you agree with you opening your thighs wider watching your boyfriend between them stroking himself fully hard spitting on his hand then using his other to spread your cheeks apart and spit on your hole making it pucker at the sensation.

“Deep breath for me baby” he growls not giving you enough time for anything as his cock head nudges your hole with him pulling your shirt up to your chest giving him a view of your pecs as his hands don’t their way to your hip using one to grip your thigh at a bruising strength lifting it up on his hip before snapping his hips forward bottoming himself out inside you knocking the air from your lungs making the car rock.

“O~h” mewling out in pain and pleasure as his cock presses against all your sweet spots with your rim stretched wide around his shaft feeling a burning pain as you twitch around him. “Mh always so tight baby” your boyfriend taunts out before he starts snapping his hips back and forth harshly thrusting making the pecs on your chest bounce back and forth the car rocking as you arch your back laying in the back seat with your leg lifted up on his hip and his other hand groping at your love handle diving his nails in harshly promising to leave a bruise.

“Hah~ honey please slow~” you mewl out lewdly pulling at his hair wrapping both thighs around him with your chin on his shoulders his face in your neck sucking at the skin and using his teeth to pinch it as he pounds into you with his hips slapping against your ass making your cheeks red as he presses you into his back seats with the only thing running through his mind was making you “his” using all his pent up anger at his co worked eyes to fuck you “fuck, take it all for me yeah ..”

“Ah- honey please~!” The car rocking back and forth with him on top of you making your cock pulse against yours and his stomach as your boyfriend grips your hips tightly nailing your prostate making your back arch laying beneath him with your hand in his hair feeling his cock pulsing roughly signaling him being close.

“Baby doing so good” he huffs out picking his pace up as the car windows fog up in the back making you cry out in pleasure with your thighs trembling on his hips and your eyes half lidded rolling into the back of your skull. “Mh yes yes oh!~” laying with your skin sweaty and your chest pressed bare against his button up as you lay with your shirt raise making your back stick to the leather of his seats as you get fucked feeling your boyfriends face in your neck biting at it gently nuzzling kissing and sucking at the already bruised skin.

“Close honey!” You mewl screaming out with your cock pulsing twitching between you two as your hole sucks his cock in desperately as it hits your prostate making his hips stutter “o-h fuck” he groans out shuddering with your thighs resting on his hips in the back seat as his tip twitches starting to cum inside you as each hot rope fills up your ass oozing out of you onto his leather seats as you tremble and shudder at the molten sensation triggering a reaction from your body as you start to cum again alll over yourself cumming all over your boyfriends pristine white button up.

“Did so good” your boyfriend pants out against your neck as he lifts his head up looking at you with his eyes half lidded and hazy all high on sex pollen between the two of you in the back seat of his car. “You can pull out now honey~” you whimper out sweetly as you nod feeling him slowly pull out of your ass, your hole all puffy and oozing cum onto his seats trying to clench and clamp around nothing.

“Here baby let me help” he whispers looking down as he reaches up front opening up his dash pulling out a few wipes to clean up his cum, willing down the seats as he gently pulls your cheeks apart cleaning your cum stained body “thank you honey~” you whimper out a thanks as you feel his hand on your stomach wiping off your cum. Your boyfriend’s hand traces down your body and wipes all the excess cum off your cock.

“I’m sorry I was so rough with you baby, I just got so jealous with how Ryan was looking at you..” your boyfriend pleads all sorry as he leans his head down kissing the bruises on your hips gently pulling your shirt back down and pulling his boxers back up trying to fix his slacks and buckle his belt back up. “It’s fine I don’t mind it…” you smile sheepishly laugh all flushed in the back seat pulling your boxers back up and zipping up your jeans searching around grabbing your belt as you slip it through the loops.

You slip into his passenger seat weakly moving as he gets into the drivers seat placing your hand in your thigh “how about we get you home and get you a bubble bath?….ill run it I’ll add the nice bath salts for your bruises?” He whispers a promise to you as he rubs your thigh gently petting it putting the car into drive pulling out of his jobs parking garage as you buckle up watching out the window when he turns onto the main road driving through the city leaving a promise of a night of being pampered by your boyfriend.

—Nanami, Choso, Kyojuro, Shiu, Kunikida, Aizawa, coach Ukai, William spears, Sir Crocodile

[tamajiki2]

𝐁𝐔𝐒𝐘, 𝐁𝐔𝐒𝐘..!! 🥯 𝐊. 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒;

almost voyeurism, fingering,

afab! nanami, gender neutral reader,

top reader.

𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇��𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐇. it the third one in the span of five minutes, and nanami was never one to complain. all of the lights of your shared home had been turned down low in preparation for sleep, of which, nanami would not be participating in if this night was to follow the events of the last three.

"nanami?", you called, walking into the study. instantly, you hissed in irritation. it was clear that nanami had resorted to working in what looked like the inside of a lightbox in an attempt to keep himself awake. the numerous fluorescent lamps had been turned to their brightest setting, and your eyes stung already.

you watched as nanami's head swayed. a slow and torpid movement that wouldn't normally belong to him.

"nanami." you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. he looked at you, and your heart ached. his eyes were bloodshot and his skin was dull with exhaustion. his normally chiseled features now looked gaunt and sickly, emphasized by dark circles under brown eyes. you brushed your hand against his cheek. "come to bed?", you whispered.

he smiled and shook his head. "i have a meeting later tonight." the bright bluish-white light reflected on his face only deepened his tired lines. you grit your teeth.

after brutally hacking away at murderous curses at jujutsu tech— which was painfully understaffed, nanami would come home to you just to sit at his computer like a zombie: overworked and miserable. a nauseous rage welled up in your throat. "who even schedules a work meeting this late at night?", you couldn't help the venom that seeped into your voice.

"some... policy. discussing deadlines, making sure everyone is up to date.", nanami murmured. you rubbed deep circles into his shoulders. he rolled his head back with a groan, allowing you more space. your thumbs caught on a particularly hard knot slightly under his shirt collar.

you pulled back for a moment, and nanami's back slumped immediately. you rushed to shove several stack of papers and empty coffee mugs to the other side of his desk, and motion for him to sit. he did, albeit sluggishly, and you continued to knead into his skin. soft, trembling sighs left his lips. 'he hadn't even taken off his work shirt yet', you noted, and pulled his top over his head. you rubbed along the his sides. you missed this, missed his—

a blaring video call notification interrupted your thoughts. nanami sighed and reached for the mouse. you stopped him with a chaste kiss to his cheek.

"it's fine. i'll handle it.", you hummed. you were quick to turn off the camera function as nanami's name popped into view as joining the meeting. you pressed another kiss to his muscled arms, then another, then another, while a monotone voice from the laptop droned on.

" [ name ] , i have to..." nanami's voice died in his throat as you pressed your fingers into his hips, digging marks into the muscle underneath. he lurched forward with a start, a choked gasp escaping him. you hushed him and gestured to the laptop beside.

nanami shook his head desperately. he knew you well enough to understand where this was going and he didn't like it one bit. " [ na— ", nanami's resolve shattered as you captured his lips in a fervent embrace. "not now—" his pleas melted into deep whines. he wasn't sure if it was the lack of oxygen or the swelling exhaustion in his brain, but he swore his body was much more reactive than it would normally be.

your hand dipped into his briefs while the other fiddled with his front pant buttons. that familiar slick sensation met your fingertips, and as if on instinct, nanami's legs snapped shut. "e-enough...", he barely managed. he looked to you under lashes wet with frustration, and in that moment, you were sure you wanted to take all of his troubles away.

you shoved his thighs apart with a hiss and stole fistfuls of everything. nanami's breathing weighed heavy with need. you pinched and groped, manhandling in such a way that made the implications impossible to miss. his hips jerked, chasing the idea like a man depraved. you ran your fingers along the fatty folds of his cunt while you lapped at his throat, enjoying the feeling of his adam's apple pressing against the flat of your tongue while he panted for air.

nanami hooked his legs around your back to bring you close. your tongue left freezing stripes of saliva over his upper chest, along his jaw, and into the shell of his ear. a shiver ran down his spine, because that sloppy "shlk, shlk, shlk" invading his senses felt just as lewd as you plain bending him over and fucking him. it felt like you were stirring his dammed brain.

you rubbed his slit with feather-light grazes. with every trace, nanami's hips would follow in a phantom twitch.

you were a tease, and a terribly cruel one at that. nanami blinked tiredly. heat pooled in his stomach and left him with a dull ache. his expression was one of silent exasperation as you pulled away for the nth time. nanami clawed angry trails of red into your back. it was fair punishment though, he thought, for treating him like this.

finally, nanami felt that delicious breach in his core. his inner walls spasmed around your fingers, as if they held a magic touch of vitality. his chest trembled with shuddering breaths. you worked him open with strong scissoring motions, pulling what was left of his rationale apart into paper-thin threads. nanami's mouth fell open. "oh god...", he gasped.

your fingertips pressed rightly into his hole, rubbing raw the nerves that lit his body on fire. he could feel his heartbeat in his stomach. it was loud and desperate, unlike he'd ever felt it before. swears and clipped moans tumbled out of his lips. nanami's hips humped against your palm, forcing a faster tempo. his head slumped over your shoulder and his disheveled blonde hair tickled your face. his voice was high and more frantic now, orgasm approaching like a speeding freight train.

your thumb swiped viciously at his clit and stars burst behind his eyes. nanami's cunt clenched around your fingers. he keened. a bolt of pleasure ran through his spine like an electric current. nanami's open-mouthed groans sent ticklish vibrations into your chest, and you recalled how much you did enjoy hearing his voice.

his body seized for a moment, as if doused in freezing water, and you were suddenly hyper aware of the cool AC breeze on you forearm. a rushing stream of translucent fluid ran down your forearm while nanami twitched above you.

your ministrations slowed, guiding him back to reality.

you ran your hands along his back. "are you alright?"

"mmh..", he responded with a sleepy nod.

you discarded the— now soaked— suit pants that were hooked around his ankles.

"come to bed.", you repeated. it wasn't a question now, and either way, nanami was in no position to refuse. you pulled him up from the undersides of his thighs with a loud, 'squelch'.

you could see his reddening ears from the corner of your eye.

"sorry, i'll—"

you promptly interrupted him. "no more talking. just get some rest, okay?" he nestled his chin into the crook of your neck.

his body was warm.

"i'm disappointed to see your lack of participation today, kento. i hope this doesn't become a habit."

you glared at the banal voice coming from the laptop speaker. you had forgotten it was still there. it seemed that everyone else except the meeting host had been automatically muted. while you didn't care, you were sure it would save nanami a lot of embarrassment.

"i want to hear more of you in future meetings, ken—"

you slammed the laptop shut.

"shut the fuck up."

from now on, nanami would not be attending work meetings past 9PM.

[ nanami vag real i think. i’m very happy u guys like the aizawa thing si si ]