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oh-katsuki · 3 months

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it's been a really long time since i wrote porn for porn's sake. here u go. it's alpha nanami :)) i don't have a title for it oops

cw: alpha!nanami, omega!reader, a/b/o, breeding, knotting, heat and rut cycles, dubcon on both sides, fingering, cohabitation, taboo, protective nanami, i feel like there is a slight primal kink in here, light dacryphilia,

wc: 3.1k

nanami didn't mean to take in a stray, but that's sort of how it happened. you're staying with him until a particularly careless friend helps to find a suitable living arrangement for you. nanami really isn't sure how it became his problem, but he'd feel awful if he'd told satoru no and left you without somewhere to go, no matter how against living with an omega he is.

frankly, nanami doesn't support the idea of alphas and omegas living together. he thinks it's a bit perverse. there's far too much at risk and the situation can become dangerous if it's the wrong pairing. sure, sometimes it works out. the better of his kind (of which he considers himself to be) give the necessary space and resist the temptation, but the others... take it too far. it'd be easier for you to live with a beta, and nanami wonders why satoru didn't first go to one of them. maybe your pheromones are weak and satoru isn't worried. that's probably why he hadn't noticed them when satoru first brought you by to ask if it'd be okay.

he knows that second gender is a spectrum. some alphas and omegas hardly emit any pheromones at all, even during heat and rut cycles. nanami thinks he likely falls into this category, seeing as he's never been particularly tempted by an omega and very few have ever been all too tempted by him, but it's a gamble. it's—frankly—unethical to ask this of him and though nanami knows that he should have said no, something in his good nature compelled him to say yes.

you've weak pheromones too, he thinks. he, of course, can feel them to a degree, but seeing as you mostly keep to yourself, it's hardly a problem in the first few weeks. frankly, the most tempting thing about you is that you're beautiful. you seem to have an almost standoffish air about you, proud and dignified, with a preference towards a more solitary and observant lifestyle. most of the day, the two of you hardly even see each other, going about your lives entirely separately only to settle into the same house for bed at night.

you don't say much when you're home. in fact, nanami would wonder if you could speak at all if it weren't for the conversations he hears you having on your phone and the little laughs or eyerolls you give in response to his comments. there's understanding there, but it's silent and you hardly ever dignify nanami's words or invitations with a response. maybe you're airing on the side of caution. he wouldn't blame you if you are. so, for the next two weeks the two of you coexist without so much as a hello between you both, silently sharing a space. you stay out of the way and nanami pretends that he isn't slightly unsettled by your constant proximity and the creeping feeling that you don't really like him all too much.

"they're a little difficult," says gojo over the phone. "kinda standoffish and really smart."

"so i've noticed," nanami responds. "i can't say i blame them though. you've put us in a weird spot."

"oh, nanamin, i know you well enough to know that you wouldn't lay a hand on them even if they begged," satoru laughs. "and they really might."

nanami grimaces at satoru's statement.

"i still don't understand why it had to be me," nanami says flatly. "you could have called ijichi. it'd probably be safer."

"how noble," satoru snickers, "but i trust you. hang in there a few more weeks. we've been working on securing an apartment for them and once we do, they'll be out of your hair. you're an angel for letting them stay." he sing-songs into the receiver. nanami holds it away from his ear.

"sure," he says. "it's not really much trouble... it's just.."

"that they're an omega. i get it. stay strong or whatever lol," satoru laughs. "unless of course, you really like them."

nanami huffs and hangs up the phone. satoru's got a good head on his shoulders, but he knew where that conversation was going. satoru was likely to say something about your heat cycle and nanami, being an optimist in cases like these, hopes silently that it won't come for another two weeks. he knows he could ask, but he worries about coming across as something of a creep. nanami is a little orthodox in the sense that he believes alphas and omegas should be separate for this reason exactly. suppressants exist but they don't always work and though nanami has sense about him, he's always had an insecurity about the kind of monster his second gender could make him. it sets him at ease a little that your pheromones appear as weak as they are.

you round the corner into the living room, standing just on the far end of the room. you're wearing pajamas, but you seem to feel no need to cover yourself or hide any perceived indecency. nanami glances at you, making a point to avoid looking at the shape of your body. it's inviting and you look at him for a moment with a small smile before raising one single eyebrow and letting out a low huff of air. nanami decides that you'd heard his conversation and he watches you shake your head as you move to the kitchen to peruse what he has. your hips, swaying slightly with each step, draw his attention to the curve of your ass and he feels ashamed for even having looked.

you're beautiful, that's certain. even the way you move is beautiful. nanami has eyes enough to see that. something stirs inside of you when he speaks, wordless recognition, maybe amusement or irritation, and vice versa. regardless, it's beautiful and nanami finds that the longer you're here the more he has to swallow it down.

you seem to get a little uncomfortable if nanami has people over, even for a moment. not that you've ever said anything about it, but you appear set on edge when he does so in the following weeks, it leads him to not bring anyone over at all. he can't bear the idea of making you uncomfortable. for as little as you've spoken to him since you've been here, nanami finds that he's grown rather fond of you. if things continue this way, he should hate it when you leave. admittedly though, he's looking forward to it a little. nanami feels that you're... a temptation. one he can't really seem to overcome.

one evening, you sit down in the living room with him. it draws his attention to look at you.

"i'm not mean, you know," you say flatly.

nanami is astounded to hear the cadence of your voice so clearly and without prompt. he can only offer a nod in return.

"i'm just picky," you continue, shifting in your seat as if you're made uncomfortable by the way you're sitting. "i have to be, being the way i am and all."

"i understand. i'm not offended," nanami says. "but some people would probably call that rude."

you smile at him, coy and delicate. "would you?"

"maybe," he offers. "if the circumstances were different."

nanami clears his throat, furrowing his eyebrows at your body language. something's off and he wonders if maybe your cycle has begun. he shifts on the couch and turns his full attention to you.

you move over to him and sit just adjacent to his leg. something in him stirs, primal and unrecognizable. you've never been this close and he only now notices that you smell nice, like something light and fresh.

nanami feels his chest stir. "this is the most you've ever said to me, i think."

"sorry," you say.

"don't be," he responds.

this conversation is awkward. it's loaded. it's like a conversation between two people who can't exchange more than a few words without experiencing intense sexual tension. he clears his throat.

"i need your help," you mumble, shifting closer. he knows what you're implying.

"i can't help you," nanami responds through gritted teeth.

"please," you say, standing slowly. you linger in front of him for a moment before reaching out and slowly straddling his legs. nanami flinches as you settle on him, pausing for a moment to breathe. "touch me."

you place your head against his shoulder, fingers grabbing his shirt as if you're agitated. the skin of your cheek is warm against his collarbone and he can feel your hair against his jaw. you twitch lightly when you touch him. carefully, he places a large hand on your head. your whole body flinches, unbelievable warmth soaking into his skin.

you feel like you have a fever and the next time you raise your head, your eyes have gone glassy, face darker. your lips are wet and lightly parted and a layer of sweat covers your forehead.

"not like that," you say, something needy creeping into your voice.

nanami, against his better judgement, rests his hands on your waist. you shudder under his touch and he slowly strokes the exposed skin of your sides with his fingers. trailing the pads of them against raised goosebumps on your skin. between your legs, he can feel heat. he knows you're wet and he knows what you want. nanami isn't sure he can give it to you, he's unsure that he should. it's not illegal, but he feels that it's wrong. something about it is fundamentally wrong and the situation goes against all of his morals. his mind still wanders.

you rest your forehead against his chest, and he feels your pheromones as they hit his nose and soak in through his skin. his body responds, tensing. your breath picks up, little heaves and pants, and you squirm down against him almost involuntarily. nanami feels himself grow hard. it surprises him and shames him. he feels heat rise to his cheeks at the realization that he's pressing up against the inside of your leg, something that makes you stir and settle directly over him. every exhale from you is a borderline whine and the syrupy smell of you grows more intense by the moment. nanami still runs his fingers along your sides, venturing over your tummy and back occasionally.

"just a little bit," you command, rubbing your cheek against him and then placing your mouth on the side of his neck and biting. "i'm sorry. just a little bit."

nanami winces and you drag your hips over him. his hands fly to yours, gripping hard enough as you make you whine.

"i can't," he grits out, speaking directly against the way his cock throbs against your core. he can feel it's dampness, a humidity that soaks through his pants.

"it hurts," you mutter and nanami feels an unpleasant stirring in his stomach. he hates the thought of you being uncomfortable.

"maybe we can find help-" you twitch over him, making him wince, "for you."

you shake your head, "you."

nanami exhales and tips his head back, his fingers still on your waist. he weighs the outcomes of this in his mind. he could push you off and fix you a blanket and a safe space, give you some tools to help yourself and then plug his ears and pretend he doesn't want to do it himself. he imagines the buzzing sound, the way you'd whimper from the other room over, still unfulfilled despite the aid. he thinks about your fingers between your legs, unsatisfying and only serving to worsen the itch. it makes him strangely jealous, nauseous almost, that you should be so uncomfortable in his presence.

you exhales against him and it's a near defeated sound. nanami's fingers buzz with adrenaline, his cock swelling and throbbing every time you so much as shift over him. there's a lack of control in this situation and his fingers move to comfort you almost against his will.

something natural and easy takes over as he slides a big hand down to the front of you and cups your cunt. it feels almost like an out of body experience, but both yours and nanami's humanity drips away slowly to make room for these primal actions. you shudder and nanami's chest swells with relief as he sees your expression. there's a need within him to care for you. it's protective, the same way he'd feel if you were in physical danger.

nanami moves his four fingers over you slowly, his breathing hitching as you push your body against him. he can feel your dampness soaking through your thin shorts and it isn't long before your relief gives way to more need.

"just this once, nanami," you breath against his neck. "please."

nanami's head is filled with something syrupy. probably you. it's probably a chemical reaction caused by you and he knows that any pheromones you're releasing are probably being released in equal amounts by him. they take up space in the room, crowding him so that all he can focus on is you, is the need between your legs that calls to him like song.

"okay," he gives in, pulling your panties to the side and dipping his fingers into you.

you shudder and let out a short cry, thighs trembling. he knows he won't be able to satisfy you like this, but he wants to try. nanami knows though that there is no such thing as nipping it in the bud with these sorts of things and as he begins to move his fingers inside of you with a beckoning motion, he feels himself slip farther away.

you're so wet, dripping down his fingers. your pussy clenches around them, begging for a knot, sucking the two digits up into you and then threatening to push them out. nanami has been with omegas before, but he's never felt himself slip away like this. his humanity leaves him in favor of something animal.

nanami shushes you quietly as he pulls his fingers from your body. you whine and squirm against him, pressing down and grinding against the bulge in his pants. he sucks in a sharp breath and quickly discard your bottoms, leaving you bare and exposed in his lap.

your cunt is sticky and shining, glistening with your wetness. he can smell it, the way you're probably fertile, and the perverse thought crosses his mind that maybe you deliberately avoided your suppressants so that he could do this to you. how out of character for him to think that.

for someone so proper, he makes quick work of pressing the head of his cock against your entrance. you push your body forward to try to take him in and nanami very quickly slides into you. you're tight and with the way your cunt makes him feel, he knows that the stretch must hurt you, but he can't seem to stop. he's so focused on quelling the ache within you, buried deep in that spot where his knot will inevitably catch.

you are barely capable of forming words now, dumb and deaf with your heat. any words of comfort nanami offers to you seem to go in one ear and out the other, but he offers them anyway. they're automatic and they come without his even needing to think about them. things about taking care of you, about knotting you the way you're begging him to, about making sure you're never alone when you have to do this. if he were in a better state of mind, he'd be mortified.

instead, he fucks his hips up into you, holding you by the waist against his throbbing cock. then, when that isn't enough, he lays you on your back on the couch and presses your knees to your chest so that he can go deeper. he needs to get deep enough to where his knot will catch, to be able to stay there to ensure it catches properly. he feels the way air leaves you with every fuck of his hips.

you raise your hand to touch his face, eyes glassed over and watering as gentle tears slip down your cheeks. a silent encouragement that pulls him from his thoughts back to you. nanami turns his head instinctively and kisses the palm of your hand. then, he takes your thumb into his mouth and bites down on the fleshly part at the base of it. he could draw blood if he wanted, but he doesn't. instead he takes your hand as it falls from his lips and kisses you plainly again on the palm before pinning it above your head.

"i'll take care of you," he grunts out and you nod deliriously.

nanami makes quick work of knotting you. he bullies his cock as far in as it will go, swelling and swelling until he sticks. you squirm as he does, gasps growing higher in pitch until you're silenced by the pressure deep in your abdomen. you cum around him, he thinks, pussy fluttering as it throbs around his knot. then, you exhale as the heat recedes into the background with this momentary relief.

nanami winces as he holds himself up over you, slowly returning to his head as the swell of pheromones recedes and leaves only the feeling of the space he takes up in your cunt.

you search his face for something, benevolence maybe, and nanami places a wide palm to your cheek.

"i'm sorry," he breathes as words find him again. "i didn't intend to-"

you shake your head, returning to yourself as well. "don't be, i wanted to."

nanami isn't really sure what to say and you wince under him as he settles his weight a little further, throbbing lightly at the mention.

"hold me," you ask and nanami obliges. he settles fully over you before lifting you so that you're straddling his lap again. you wince and nanami soothes you by gently stroking your face. it's automatic again, the urge to comfort you is well beyond his control.

something in you triggers something in him and it is two full days before either of you are lucid and well enough to separate. satoru calls him multiple times, but nanami ignores him, too preoccupied with his unexpected rut and keeping you comfortable. at present, he's well past the initial guilt and frankly, entirely hellbent on deciding that you should stay. so much for his practicality, nature won out in the end.

nanami doesn't really think he'll ever hear the end of this, especially not from satoru who, when he inevitably gets a hold of them, will tease so relentlessly that it might shock nanami and you back into your senses. he decides to hide out here with you for a little longer, filling the room with the scent of you both until it crowds out everything else. he likes the way you feel nestled up beside him, messy and breathing deeply as you sleep.

a tag for my friends @antizenin and @kentocidal bc they asked!!!

#nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #jjk x reader #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #tw: a/b/o #tw: breeding #tw: dubcon #i can't find my writing tag #also there are prob spelling mistakes in here i apologize #i apologize if this isnt very good

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bizbat · 4 months

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Thinkin abt . . .

When they're in love with eating you out . . .

~ Smut

Wc: 403

🕸️Spiderverse Masterlist🕸️

🦇Batman Masterlist🦇

~ You can find more of my works here.

They can't help it. When you shove at their head, trying to get them away from the space between your legs, all they can do is smack your thigh, tell you to be quiet while they stuff their face in your heat and ignore your whines.

Really, you shouldn't be surprised, you taste delicious, as they've let you know more than once. They just can't help themselves, they need your pussy like they need air, so you'll be good and let them make you feel good, right?

To them, there's no better feeling than your plush thighs wrapped around their head, no better taste than your cum, coating their tongue and dripping down their chin, no better sight than you, squirming and flushed, trying to escape their tongue, that, at this point, has been going for hours.

They don't mind it when you grip their hair so hard it feels like you're going to rip it out, or when you dig your nails into their skin, leaving angry, red crescents in their wake. If anything, they like it, it's a sign that they're doing a good job.

Sometimes, they even eat it from the back, their hands firmly holding your cheeks apart so they can have better access to your hole(s). The sight alone is enough to make them cum right then and there. They just can't get enough of you, your back deliciously arched, your thighs completely soaked with their spit and your essence, your face, displaying your completely fucked out expression.

Honestly, they might get a little upset if you don't let them eat you out. They damn near go through withdrawal when they can't shove their face into your perfect cunt. How could you do this to them? Don't they do a good job? Did they not make you feel good last time? Why don't you let them try again to make it up to you? Shhh, they know, it's okay, you don't even have to lay down, they'll get on their knees right now if you want them to.

Just as long as you let them taste you. Everything else on the planet can wait, just let them get a teesny, tiny, itty bitty, little taste first. God, they absolutely love it when you cum on their tongue. They don't care if you're a creamer, a squirter, something in between, just- fuck- please fucking cum in their mouth.

~ Yuuji Itadori, Yuta Okkotsu, Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Nanami Kento, Shoko Ieiri, Choso Kamo, Todo Aoi, Peter B. Parker

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hawnks · 6 months

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Alpha!Nanami/Omega!reader

Word count: ~2,800

warnings: a/b/o typical sexism, abuse of authority (from side character), mention of leg injury

……………………………………………………….

He brings the storm with him.

You learn him in whispers, along with a bevy of myth and rumor. He drifted here from the East. His clothing has been mended at least a dozen times, but his shoes are sturdy, expertly crafted. He makes no noise when he walks — hardly any noise at all. Rōnin, not samurai. And you can’t trust a man with no honor.

He killed his old master, I heard.

No, he was exiled.

Maybe he killed his master because he was exiled.

“He’ll be gone tomorrow once the rain lets up,” the innkeeper says, cutting off all further speculation. “Now, mind your work, not the guests.”

Beside you, someone grouses, “He chose a funny season to wander, if he’s afraid of the weather.”

…

The rain does not let up.

It puts everyone in a sour mood. The streets turn viscous and tacky, the air brutally cool. You draw the short straw, sent to fetch the days meat in the early morning, a long trek to the fishmonger that leaves you drenched down to your underwear.

It takes twice as long as usual — you lose your sandal a few times in the muck — and when you arrive the stand is vacant. The old man had come down with pneumonia.

Frustrated, you take the long way home. They can wait for the bad news, and you’re so soaked a few extra minutes won’t make any difference. You catch the eye of a few of the daimyō’s men, leering at you from beneath awnings, snickering as you walk by.

“Wanna hear a joke about wet omegas?” one of them calls to you.

You grit your teeth and keep walking.

You deliver the news about the fish to the innkeeper at the door to her room, so you can dart out again before she has a chance to say anything. God forbid she sends you out on another errand.

Soaking, furious, you change into your uniform, and begin your shift at the tavern.

The work is tedious, but decently lucrative. You like to talk to travelers, learn what’s happening beyond the boundaries of your town. It’s hard to put into words what you get out of this, hoarding information like you’re starved for it. Maybe the sheer notion that there is someplace else. That this town and its people are not the only things in the world.

The comfort of knowing away is still possible.

You expect to ask the rōnin the same, starry eyed questions, regardless of how the other server is avoiding him. It might even be enough to salvage this shitty morning.

But you don’t get a chance to ask him where he’s from, what he’s seen. You open your mouth to say something, and choke on air thick with the scent of wisteria.

He meets your gaze.

He won’t look away.

Your wet hair drips on his table.

You can’t feel your fingertips.

Shoving yourself away from the table so hard it rattles against the floor, you excuse yourself in a mumbled tumult. You recruit the other server to take over your tables for the rest of the morning. You must look as awful as you feel, because she doesn’t even question it as you retreat back to your room, throw yourself under the quilt. Close your eyes and pray for your heart to settle.

The one thing the gossip didn’t prepare you for — an alpha.

…

Another day of storms. Another morning you draw the short straw.

Another day you limp home through the mud, empty handed.

The soldiers don’t leer today. Instead, the daimyō is waiting for you. It feels like he’s always waiting for you, that he could swoop in any moment, as quick and ruthless as a hawk.

He’s said he could follow your scent straight to you, no matter where you’re hiding. Sometimes you believe it.

He’s leaning against a wall under an awning, but you know the casual stance is deceptive. He can be fast when he wants to be.

He calls your name, an inferred order to come.

You pretend you didn’t hear, keep walking.

He’s standing straight now arms at his side. Ready. Your insides feel leaden. It takes all your willpower to keep moving forward. To disregard an alpha is one, painful thing. To disregard the daimyō is simple insanity.

Water blurs your vision. You can’t tell from the corner of your eye what expression he’s making. Sometimes he finds your insolence humorous.

Sometimes not.

Just a dozen feet further and you’ll be at the bend in the road.

“You should greet me,” he says. Quiet, but you’re so hyper-vigilant, there’s no way you could miss it.

“Good morning, My Lord,” you whisper to your feet.

He doesn’t step out into the rain, but his voice follows you around the corner. Teasing, condescending. “That’s a good omega.”

He could kill you for your bad manners. A servant, ignoring their lord. No one would question it, no one would dispute it.

But then — he would be killing the only omega in the whole town.

As much as he resents your disobedience, he would resent the loss of you even more. An alpha must have an omega, he told you. That is his right.

Chin tucked and scurrying, you don’t realize you’re on a collision course until you’ve already run into the man. The impact sends you tumbling to the ground.

Through the buffer of the downpour, it takes you a minute to recognize him. His scent.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he says. “I apologize.”

He bends to offer you a hand up. You just stare at his outstretched palm. Silent. Reeling.

You wait for him to give an order. Demand you take his hand, or that you come to stand on your feeble legs all on your own. It’s simply an alphas nature to wield their power like a cudgel, to bend everything and everyone to their will.

And now you have two of them to deal with.

Another moment of stillness. Your breath steams. Your pulse drowns out all other sounds.

He kneels.

Like this, on the same level, you can see the color of his eyes. So perfectly brown they’re almost black.

“Are you alright?” he says.

His voice is staid and calm. Not demanding. Not cruel. It — confuses you. You don’t understand what he wants from you.

You rise to your knees, shoving him with all your strength. He doesn’t budge. He remains solid and upright beneath your hands. You can feel the muscle, the innate strength. He’s warm, beneath the wet clothes. So incredibly warm.

You wonder if he could soothe your chill. You wonder if the touch of his bare skin would burn.

With a gasp, you tear away, appalled and mystified by your own reaction.

He stays kneeling as you rise and step away. He stays as you rush home, the scent of wisteria heavy in your lungs.

…

The innkeeper is displeased with your performance, of late. She gives you a stern warning that you shouldn’t let your “licentious nature” interfere with work.

“I don’t know why I agreed to take an omega on,” she sighs. “Not like you’ll be around for much longer, anyway.”

You wince. “Am I fired?”

The old woman laughs. “No, no. Not yet, anyway.” She waves at you, a full body gesture. A reference to the omega in you. “You’ll be wed to His Lordship soon, anyway. You won’t have to worry about the toil of work anymore.”

You excuse yourself shortly after.

…

The days are a monotony. Even the fear is so commonplace you lose track of it. The daimyō grows impatient with you. He calls to you from the shelter of the awning, each time a little bolder, a little less demure about his intentions.

“You know, I have a bad habit of breaking my things when I get bored of them,” he tells you. “I wonder what other tricks you have to keep me entertained.”

You hang your clothes to dry every evening, and the drip becomes a steady cadence, like the ticking of a clock.

This is your life.

The rain.

…

The decree is issued that afternoon. Marriage.

You’re to report to the royal estate before sundown, along with everything you own. You will not be coming back.

You pack your bag; you take the road out of town. With the city at your back, you’ll have to pass through the outskirt woods. Then across the river, a dangerous gambit when the water is this high, but that just means you won’t be followed.

You can’t imagine the consequences if they catch you.

The path grows looser the further you go, the mud deep, silt as slick as ice. Arduous and exhausting. And dangerous, too.

You don’t realize your footing is off until it’s too late. You slip, land badly. You cry out before you can stop yourself.

You struggle to your knees, get one of your legs beneath you. A shock of pain has you tumbling down again.

You can’t stand. You can’t run.

Just moments after you fall, a shadow overtakes you. And a man, looming, familiar, crouches before you.

“I heard your voice,” he says. “Can you walk?”

You shake your head, timid, overwhelmed.

“Pardon me,” he says, before hefting you up into his arms.

The ease he does it with is startling. An alpha’s superior strength.

He brings you to a small hunting cabin. Clearly abandoned, but decent enough. It’s dry, and a small fire is going in the hearth.

There’s no furniture except for a rudimentary pallet, which he sets you down on.

“May I?” he asks, hands hovering above your stockinged leg.

He takes your silence as answer enough, unrolling the material gradually, trying not to disturb your injury. He inspects it briefly, pressing carefully. You wince, he stops.

He reaches for his bag, retrieving a small tin. “Your ankle is sprained,” he tells you. “You should return to town in the morning.”

“I need to leave,” you return absently. “I have to get past the bridge.”

He frowns.

“The bridge has collapsed. The river is impassable.” He had tried to leave that morning, only to face the same dilemma. He considers you leg. “Besides, you won’t make it very far.”

The reality of your situation dawns on you, a slow tide of dread.

You missed your chance. You’ve lost your only opportunity at freedom.

You yank out of his grasp, dragging yourself across the floor, to the corner on the far side of the cabin.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you—“

“No. No.” You gnash your teeth at him, feeling wild with fear, unable to see past the dark curtain of it. “I have to go. I can’t be trapped in here with you.”

He raises a hand, a placating gesture, but all you see is motion, canting toward you. An alpha. A threat.

You grab whatever is closest. You throw it at him.

The stick doesn’t even hit him, but that doesn’t stop you. You throw everything within reach.

He just waits for you to give up, but soon enough he realizes how stubborn you can be.

“Enough,” he says. His voice fills the shack, not loud, but indomitable. The undeniable command of an alpha. “I’m not going to hurt you. I would appreciate if you would offer me the same courtesy.”

You drop the stone you were going to hurl at him, suddenly incapable of aggression. You feel — groggy, but less terrified now. Very nearly calm.

His pheromones, you realize.

The notion that he’s using them on you should incense you, but you can’t muster it. You close your eyes, exhausted.

Eventually, after long minutes of tepid silence, he murmurs, “I was here first, you are aware of that, right?” His tone is almost — sullen.

And for some reason, that very human show of petulance is enough to thaw you.

You laugh.

You can’t stop. You laugh so hard it’s hardly laughter anymore. It’s so intense it makes your ribs hurt, brings tears to your eyes.

It feels like the first time you’ve been able to think clearly in weeks.

When you finally calm to a few soft hiccups, you lay down and throw your arms out. Passive.

“Alright, swordsman,” you say, “Fix me.”

He’s slow to approach you, cautious of another rock coming at him. But you remain still.

His touch is gentle, so soft it’s like he’s barely handling you at all. He retrieves the tin of salve you kicked out of his hand, and begins to apply it. It’s cool, slightly astringent. Beneath that, the scent of wisteria.

His fingers are just as warm as the rest of him.

It’s over before you can get used to the sensation of him touching you. He pulls away, returns the tin to his bag. “That will help with the swelling. You should still avoid putting weight on it until it heals.”

“Thank you,” you force yourself to say.

You think you hear him chuckle.

…

Night blooms, full and dark.

Despite your anxiousness, the waiting has grown tedious. Unbearably so.

“Is there anything in that bag to alleviate boredom?”

He glances at you for a moment. Hesitating.

Finally he reaches inside, pulls out a small binding. He passes it to you.

A book of poems. You recognize the shape of the sentences, some of the words. You wonder what use a swordsman has for literature, but the swordsman is full of surprises evidently.

Th pages are worn, the edges soft from thumbing.

“I can’t read,” you say. You look at him. Expectantly.

You hold the book out. He takes it, slowly, gingerly.

He reads.

He’s not much of a performer, although you didn’t expect him to be. It’s clear he’s not used to reading aloud, but he knows these passages well. He’s tone is even, with little inflection. The words come out perfectly paced.

They’re love poems. Not flowery or decadent, but earnest, gentle.

It seems at odds with what you know of him, what you’ve assumed from his status, both as a rōnin and an alpha. You’re not sure what to make of him anymore, how to reconcile the image you built of him in your head and everything you’ve witnessed here.

His swords are leaned against the wall beside him, sure proof of a history of violence.

The question comes, unbidden. “Have you ever killed someone?”

He pauses, glances at you. He searches your face for something, the fear that should accompany those words. But your expression is blank.

Silence, fraught with the tense memory of how you ended up here. What were you running from? Why? He must understand, to some extent. No one reaches desperation without pretext.

“Yes,” he says, simply.

“If I asked you to kill someone,” you murmur. “If I paid you…”

The implication feels enormous within the tight confines of the cabin.

“I don’t believe that’s what you want.”

“What do I want?”

“To not be put in a position where you have to make that kind of decision.”

That makes something in your chest feel tight, on the verge of snapping. Another thing you can’t wrap your head around. Another emotion you can’t name. Uncomfortable, but not frightening. Not like before.

You feel displaced, unmoored.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“I’m not being nice,” he says. “You need help. I’m in a position to provide it.”

And that seems wrong to you. Just because someone has the means doesn’t mean they’ll offer them, certainly not freely. Especially not when someone is a such a burden.

“I’ve never met an alpha who’s kind to an omega just for the sake of it,” you say despite his denial.

He mulls that over for a moment, head cocked as he decides how to respond.

“I didn’t know you were an omega until tonight,” he says, quietly. “I had my suspicions, but…”

“Were my bountiful charms not enough to tip you off?” You snort at his blank expression, too polite to disrespect you with an answer. “Why now?”

“Your scent. It’s…subtle. Easy to miss, especially under these circumstances.”

“What do I smell like?”

He smiles, for the first time since you met him. It softens his severe features, makes him look younger. Less world-weary. “You smell like rain.”

He continues reading as the sky continues to churn, until you can hardly keep your eyes open, just barely holding on to the soft thread of words.

“Sleep,” he says gently. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Despite yourself, you believe him.

#nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #HAPPY FOUR AM #here’s this <3 #I knowwwww there’s like a thousand typos in here I just know it #I wanted to finish this tonight I felt compelled to #also I’m so sorry if u actually know stuff about history I am just making stuff up as I go <3 #JSJSJDJDJDJD #anyway……#one of the stranger aus I’ve written #cw: a/b/o #tw: a/b/o

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lu-dao-writes · 3 months

Text

— 𝐀 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐎𝐟 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 (𝘼𝙡𝙥𝙝𝙖!𝘾𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙤 𝙆𝙖𝙢𝙤)

꒰ྀི ᥫ᭡ 𝙎𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨 Despite being semi aware of his and his siblings existence, that’s all he knows. Choso not only has to navigate being fully alive, but he has to understand his role as the older brother, and understand his role as an alpha.

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) Omegaverse/ABO dynamics, SPOILERS, scenting, nesting, Kenjaku and him being a questionable dad, Mahito being… himself really, mentions of sex/ heats and ruts, mentions of porn watching, gn!reader, reader is Gojo’s sibling (you decide if biological or not), reader’s dynamic is not specified but hinted you’re either an alpha or omega, angst, bittersweet ending, vague threat alluding to sa not made by Choso but Kenjaku, grief.

𝘼/𝙉 It’s finally here (on my tumblr anyway lol)! This is more of a character study for Choso that I wanted to do, and because I also wanted to do an omegaverse piece. Reader and Choso interact later down the line, and the last bit is just the Reader’s perspective. Not too confident with the last bit but I’m ready to be done lol. Idk if I should have the minors dni warning cause there’s nothing super explicit here, but I’d say this is probably for a mature audience? I’ll be lenient but I’d rather not see a 13 year old like this🤣. But I hope y’all enjoy this! Also thank you for your patience!𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ ꒱ྀི

꒰ྀི𝙒𝘾: 5,232 ꒱ྀི

꒰ྀི 𝙏𝙖𝙜(𝙨) 🏷️ ꒱ྀི @staygoldsquatchling02

THE first breath of life is usually a special, momentous moment.

Sometimes it’s the start of a miserable existence where a soul must struggle before finding the sweet taste of… Whatever it is.

But for Chōsō, it’s more disorienting than anything, and the main thing on his mind is his family.

Chōsō and the rest of his siblings have been aware of each other, almost as if they’re connected by a mind link, but there’s no words to be said nor heard. It’s just a faint thrumming, almost like the thin strands of a spider's web being plucked.

The death painting cared not for anything else outside of his siblings.

That is until he had to when he took his first official breath.

Chōsō awakens to two people in front of him; two men with various smiles plastered on their faces. One a mild smile with slight interest in his eyes with ink black hair cascaded down past his shoulders, a scar across his forehead and dressed in some traditional getup.

And the other has giddy, dual colored eyes seemingly bright with.. Something that makes him feel a bit uncomfortable. He’s got dull blue hair and stitches in various spots on his body.

After briefly studying their appearance, scents infiltrate his nose. A wave of multiple things and so overwhelmingly strong that it makes his skin itch and belly clench.

On one hand there’s a mix of spicy, and smoky with hints of sweetness, and on the other hand it’s sour and bittersweet.

Chōsō covers his nose before becoming slightly infatuated with his new appendage. Too pale skin with a few bulging veins. He wiggles his fingers before a voice finally speaks up.

“You’re finally awake, Chōsō,” the dark haired man speaks, his voice giving Chōsō the feeling like something creeps up his spine, but he’s not sure if it’s a pleasant feeling or something dreadful.

Chōsō blinks at him cluelessly, purple eyes mirroring each other as they look at one another, but eventually Chōsō can see a hint of delight in the others eyes, but his face remains composed.

The man with the stitches giggles, the sound being higher pitched compared to the ink haired man.

Chōsō looks at the other with a bit of confusion.

“Ignore him, but I’ll cut to the chase. Your name is Chōsō and you are the oldest of 9 siblings.”

Chōsō finds himself nodding, being aware of this knowledge, but he does not interrupt him.

“Behind you are Esō and Kechizu.”

Chōsō whips his head around, his heart swelling as he watches the vessels slowly morph until they’re at their final shape.

His beloved younger brothers…

The reasons for him to strive to be the best role model and pave the right path for them and them alone, no matter the mistakes he’s bound to make.

His responsibility…

“You are responsible for them and each other,” the man continued from behind him.

The man with dual colored eyes wanders closer, crouching down near Esō and Kechizu. He reaches out and pokes at them carelessly, the action infuriating Chōsō to a high degree. He acts before he could comprehend what he's doing, his hand smacking the other’s away and a rancorous snarl spilling from within his throat, startling himself. His eyes are wide and he touches his throat, the pad of his middle, ring, and index fingers pressing at his Adam’s apple.

The man that was prodding at his brothers only cackles. “Oh, he didn’t like that!”

“Mahito, I suggest not testing him too much. He’s an alpha that doesn’t know how to control himself, and I certainly won’t help if you get hurt because you couldn’t stop running your mouth,” the other man warns, not sounding concerned in the slightest.

The unserious man, Mahito, scoffs. “Oh please, Getō, I’m not scared of some untrained alpha mutt.”

Chōsō is left even more confused, but he’s not insulted, instead he focuses on hovering over his brothers, not wanting Mahito to touch them again.

Now that he’s more present, he can tell who’s smell is who. Mahito’s is the one that smells sour and bittersweet, while Getō is the smoky, sweet and spicy one. It’s still overwhelming to smell them both, the urge to snap at both of them was strong, but he was not going to break composure again unless necessary.

Esō and Kechizu’s scents were slowly coming to life, their scents not being bothersome to Chōsō.

Esō smells faintly of something soft, floral, and sweet, but underneath that it’s death.

And Kechizu’s scent is earthy, metallic, and also smells of death underneath it all, but his scent is not as strong as everyone else’s.

They’re perfect in his eyes.

Chōsō holds their hands as they wake up, his gaze almost blank but there’s a touch of softness there in those dark purple eyes of his.

“Hello younger brothers,” he greets, his voice dull while his hands hold theirs tenderly.

“You’re Esō,” he directs to his brother who looks like an unearthly human.

He then looks to his other brother who looks less human. “And you’re Kechizu.”

Esō and Kechizu smile at him and wrap their arms around him, their scents meshing together and onto each other’s skin like a semi permanent tattoo.

Seeing their smile, and feeling their warmth… Chōsō wants to make sure he keeps them safe and happy.

Mahito scoffs and Chōsō is alerted.

“Chōsō is the only one that looks good. How come the other two look so gross?”

Another cord of uncontrollable anger surges through him, but he restrains himself enough that only a small growl leaves his throat, purple eyes glaring pins and needles into Mahito who looks like he couldn’t care less.

Esō’s scent suddenly grows foul, permeating through the room and alerting everyone.

It further pisses Chōsō off but before he could lose the little amount of control he has, Getō cuts in calmly.

“Where are my manners? I’m Getō Suguru, and I’m sure you heard me address him as Mahito. Before we let the three settle in I have more to discuss with you.”

Chōsō noticed while Getō was talking that he had a way to command his attention even though Chōsō was far more focused on making sure his brothers were okay, especially Esō.

Getō goes on to talk about his plans for the world and wants them to join in his cause. Chōsō frankly does not care, as long as he and his siblings can live peacefully in this “new world”.

“We’ll join under one condition,” Chōsō declared once Getō was finished with his speech.

Said man’s smile grows an inch. “Go on and name your condition.”

Chōsō speaks firmly, never once wavering as he and Getō stare each other in the eyes. “As long as my brothers, as well as our other siblings, can live peacefully in the end of all of this, we’ll cooperate.”

Getō looks like he expected nothing less from the ill looking man. “I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

Seeming that it seems to be a deal, he nods before speaking again. “Now then, what is with you calling me an alpha?”

“Ah yes! I will give you books on your biologies and as well as get you and Esō the proper medications you’ll need.”

Mahito gags, toying with his hair. “Those pesky suppressants. Who even needs those when they end up becoming a problem later?”

Chōsō’s eyes fly open with alarm, his purple orbs darting over to Getō and narrowing slightly, silently demanding an explanation.

Getō waves off his gaze, still having that carefree expression of his. “That’s years and years down the line.” Then he suddenly pins Chōsō with a knowing stare, looking a little arrogant now. “Esō is an omega and without them he could get hurt. You wouldn’t want that now would you?”

Chōsō swallows and only gives him a stiff nod, the terms still lost on him, but if the medication can keep Esō stable for now, that’s all he needs to know. He’ll figure out another solution later when he’s more knowledgeable.

Getō then guides the three beings into a room and inside there’s a large bed, small wooden desks beside the bed, light fixtures, a tv, empty bookshelf, a standing mirror, and a fuzzy couch. On the bed there’s a pile of random articles of clothing and some shoes that the siblings wander over to.

“This will be your living space, when you’re able to go outside feel free to buy anything to liven the place up more,” Getō advises, remaining at the doorway. “I’ll let you three get dressed and I’ll be back shortly.”

The siblings don’t acknowledge him, focused on finding the right pieces of clothing for themselves.

And Chōsō finally runs into his first problem as an older brother. When Esō was trying his first set of clothes on, he was absolutely horrified when he saw what was on his back. His scent soured and stunk up the room, drowning Chōsō and Kechizu.

Esō moves away from the standing mirror, keeping his back away from his brothers, his eyes slightly welling up. “I look disgusting!” he gasps, a million thoughts and scenarios passing through his eyes and it makes Chōsō panic and clam up. He wants to help him immediately, but when he takes a step towards him, he’s lost on what to even say.

“Esō don’t be so harsh on yourself. Kechizu nor I even batted an eye on what’s on your back. You’re not disgusting,” Chōsō explains to him, his voice blunt but with a twinge of gentleness.

Esō's expression softens but he looks off to the side, his attention elsewhere again. He shakes his head and moves to the pile of clothes again. “Please.. Don’t look at my back.”

“But-.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Please, Ani…”

Chōsō wants to push, but hearing the pleading in Esō’s voice makes him reluctantly sigh and let it go. He only wants to make his brothers happy, and if Esō doesn’t want to talk about it, fine. He’ll have to trust that whenever Esō’s ready he’ll come talk to him.

“I don’t think I want to wear any of these,” Kechizu chimes in before the silence could swallow them. “It’s not like I’ll be able to walk out in public anyways,” he adds with a shrug and tossing the shirt in his hand, not having a care in the world about that fact.

Chōsō hopes that Kechizu keeps that attitude because he doesn’t even know how to help Esō with his current situation.

“That’s fine,” Chōsō murmurs, admiring some boots that were on the bed.

Once dressed to their liking, Esō’s smell had gradually turned back to normal, easing the other two.

“Are you both comfortable?” Chōsō checks in.

“We’re fine!” Esō replies while Kechizu nods with a smile. “Are you?”

Chōsō nods with a hum. “I want you both to have the bed. The couch will be fine with me.”

They tried to argue and insist that he could also take the bed with them, but Chōsō insisted that he already took a liking to the couch anyways. Since the younger siblings knew there was no way to change Chōsō’s mind, they give up, settling down onto the bed.

“What do you think of all of this?” Esō eventually asks.

“All I care about is my family,” Chōsō answers without hesitation. “We live for each other, and as your older brother I’ll do my best to keep you both happy and safe.”

‘I will set a good example for them like I’m meant to. Even if I stumble along the way..’

“And we’ll keep you safe and happy!” Kechizu declares with Esō nodding with his arms crossed.

“That won’t be necessary but I appreciate it,” he says softly, lips curling up slightly. “Your happiness makes me happy.”

Suddenly there’s a knock at the door before it opens, revealing Getō with books and a bag of medicine in hand like he promised. “Here you all go,” he says, handing them off to Chōsō.

Chōsō stares at the book that was on top: “Alpha Biology 101 For Dummies.”

“Whenever you three are ready the rest of us will be out here,�� he says before gliding away once more.

As Chōsō learns to grasp what life is now for him and his brothers, he soon learns the meaning of what are alphas, betas, and omegas.

Kechizu is a beta. People with this dynamic don’t have to take suppressants like alphas and omega have to to regulate sexual urges. Their scent is not as overpowering, and… Well… In simple terms they’re basic.

Not his words.

Now onto omegas. Omegas were highly sought after, spoken of like they’re prized treasures. They have heats that occur and are said to be “submissive” and the “caregivers” of society. Lot of the texts in the books he was given speak of omegas being frail and are made to be infantilized. It was weird, and it made him feel dread in the pit of his gut as he thought of either of his brothers being treated that way.

Chōsō was conflicted about what was being told to him from the books, and his own analysis from being around his brothers, Mahito, and omegas outside the hideout.

Mahito and Esō were not submissive. While Esō is sensitive that does not mean that he’s submissive. He’s clever and likes to dominate the room and anyone that tries to walk over him. Just as long as no one speaks or gazes upon the face on his back he’s fine.

Mahito… He’s playful, sadistic, and dominates the room, especially those he considers inferior. He’s anything but fragile and doesn’t need protection. The world is his playground and he doesn’t care who gets hurt or what gets broken by him.

Chōsō knows there’s not a caring bone in his body.

If anything.. Kechizu, despite being a beta, had what the textbook would describe as “omegan behavior”…

Even while he people watched he could see that what was said in the textbook was so… Wrong. Outdated.

It all just seems to be one big insult to omegas while only slightly uplifting them.

But Chōsō takes the basics so that he’s got a foot to stand on when taking care of Esō's and his omegan needs. And of course he made mistakes along the way, and at first he’s hard on himself when it comes to forgiveness.

Esō likes to nest with minimalistic things, even though he’s somewhat forced too since the brothers don’t have much to begin with. Esō also isn’t a perfectionist when it comes to his nest. He just wants one or two items that belong to his brothers and somewhere comfortable. He’s not big on constant need of physical touch, something he snapped at Chōsō for when he tried to coddle him a little too much. He does however like to wear bracelets that have Chōsō and Kechizu’s scent on them. It’s something he never likes to take off unless they need to be rescented. Those bracelets keep him happy just as much as being in his brother’s presence.

But finally onto alphas…

Alphas seemingly have too much power. They’re viewed as dominant, aggressive, and almost as gods, and the superior beings of the world. Like omegas they have heats, but they’re called ruts.

But once again, Chōsō goes off what he sees amongst Getō, Jōgo, himself, and people outside.

Chōsō has yet to really lose his senses, unless it comes to his family. But he’s not possessive of anything, outwardly aggressive, and he doesn’t even look like a typical alpha, something Jōgo mumbled about once with Mahito also agreeing halfheartedly.

Chōsō also doesn’t bother to assert himself when it comes to Jōgo or Getō.

Jōgo every now and then tries it, but Getō asserts himself elegantly without doing much effort, and he mocks Jōgo when he fails.

There’s also a big aspect on sexual urges and he himself hasn’t crossed that path and neither has his brothers.

Even when he accidentally walked in on Mahito cackling about the porn he was watching- although the obscene noises startled him- it overall did nothing to him.

Briefly he does wonder if something is wrong with him, but in the end he doesn’t care enough. He appreciates that he doesn’t have to deal with it because it’ll just get in his way.

Chōsō believes he has a decent understanding of all the dynamics, but he has no interest in telling anyone how they should behave. It’s not his place and he sees no point in it.

People watching has helped, but soon it starts to take a toll on him. Looking at the humans… He has no hatred towards them, but looking at them constantly reminds him how his other siblings will not be welcomed. Only he can walk around without much problem, and that sucks.

So eventually he stops going out so much, keeping himself at the hideout and leaving only when necessary.

He just hopes that following Getō’s plans doesn't come to bite him in the ass later…

But unfortunately the universe isn’t so kind to him. While playing a silly little board game with the other residents, Chōsō feels like his heart was being gripped so tight while simultaneously being slowly torn apart and beating rapidly, his mind flashing with images. He ignores Mahito’s whining and barely even moved to respond to Getō when he asked if he was okay.

“Both… Both of my brothers just died,” he says, his voice heavy. His scent is sour and oozing from him, causing Mahito to complain more before he’s distracted by something Getō says.

Chōsō breaks through the static when he feels Getō’s hand on his shoulder, gazing at him with a slight look of sympathy. The game board was already cleared up and everyone else was gone, leaving them alone.

“Let’s go retrieve their bodies,” Getō orders lightly.

Chōsō blinks at him, a little stunned he’s willing to even do that for him. He just nods, his throat thick with saliva. Or maybe it’s bile.

As they walk together Getō never once walks ahead, just remains at Chōsō’s side. His scent wraps around him as if to comfort him, and he still doesn’t know what to make of it, but it does keep him grounded and… It feels nice.

But surely he’s not trying to act like a father to him. Getō’s not soft either.

Chōsō pushes it aside for now the moment he sees his dead brothers laid up next to one another. That’s when the tears suddenly came.

Tears continuously drip down his pale cheeks, never ceasing even as he tries to swipe them away. He falls to his knees and hugs their bloodied bodies into him, sobbing and begging for their forgiveness for not being there and saving them.

He felt their fear and it was sickening. He felt everything up until they took their last breaths.

Chōsō whimpers that he’ll avenge them. He’ll slaughter Yūji Itadori and Nobara Kugisaki for what they’ve done.

Getō watches with a soft expression, his lips quirked just slightly with wicked twinkle in his eyes. He reaches over to lightly ruffle Chōsō’s head, comforting him and letting him grieve.

After properly burying his brothers, Chōsō started caring less and less about the plain, the only thing truly fueling him being revenge.

So during the fight with Gojō Satoru in the Shibuya subway he hardly put much effort into it, letting Jōgo and Hanami take the lead and do the heavy lifting.

From Getō, Chōsō has been made aware just how strong he is, and Chōsō has no wish to die by his hands. His quarrel is not with him and he doesn’t want Gojō to be in his way.

Especially not when he’s so close to his brothers’ killers.

Just when Chōsō can find himself falling asleep due to sheer boredom and from his legitimate lack of sleep, a sudden scent wafts in the air and punches him straight in the lungs, his pupils slowly widening. There’s a sudden electricity running through his veins and he’s become alert, head swiveling around.

It’s a scent so alluring and it floats around the subway, slowly becoming stronger, and standing out amongst the gore and sour rot. It comes closer until his head is snapped to the side, a foot quite literally snapping him out of it.

Chōsō grunts as he crashes to the ground, and when he looks at his attacker he’s once again stupefied.

“This right here is Gojō Satoru’s sibling. A special grade just like him. Do be careful if you happen to cross paths,” Getō warns before slipping the photo back into his pocket.

Chōsō only grunts, his disinterested eyes moving off to the side.

The air around them is almost electric and soon enough the light overhead bursts, but neither flinch.

Chōsō assumes it’s the youngest Gojō’s technique, but he’s not certain, nor does he dwell on it for long, his brain becoming inebriated from the scent.

Neither move and the once fierce expression on the other’s face slowly morphs into one of trepidation, scent souring and causing him such great discomfort that he lets out a timorous whine he couldn’t withhold.

Chōsō’s skin suddenly becomes hot, tingling all throughout his limbs, and something stirs to life deep within himself.

Those pretty eyes still have him locked in place before they’re gone within a blink of an eye.

“Satoru!”

The ever thinning bit of control he has is snapping thread by thread, and he’s down to the last few strings.

“Y/N, for once just listen to me and get the hell out of here! Go warn the others, I’ll be fine!”

Dark purple eyes watch as Gojō Y/N struggles for a moment before unwillingly turning tail to leave the scene, effortlessly blasting away any trouble that stood in the way. Chōsō was surprised that Getō even allowed it to happen.

But that’s beside the point. The moment the younger Gojō disappeared, Chōsō felt like everything was going to collapse around him, his mind struggling to stay coherent and rational, his scent unknowingly stinking up the room.

Find Gojō Y/N and cage the sorcerer in his arms.

‘Follow the scent, take Gojō Y/N, keep safe. Don’t let Y/N die like I let my brothers die.’

Despite wanting to give chase, the small, single strand of sanity left in him told him not to do such a thing. He’d be what he’d criticized other Alphas for. He may be half curse but he’s no insatiable animal.

“Woah,” he heard Mahito remark. “Looks like we’ve got a problem. Chōsō seems to have finally hit his rut! Talk about bad timing!”

‘Rut? This is what a rut feels like..?’

“Is that so?” Getō croons, with a wicked look of delight. He studies Chōsō’s panting figure before taking a peek back at a shaken Satoru.

“Pfft, it was all because of Gojō Y/N! That’s hilarious! Are you a masochist, Chōsō since you’re getting all excited from a kick to the face? Priceless!” Mahito giggles.

Chōsō can see Satoru begin to struggle even more despite it being futile, he’s bound up so tight and soon going to be swallowed into the prison realm. He’s snarling furiously and his feet even manage to crack a few tiles underneath him, but Chōsō can tell from his panting there’s a bit of panic.

For a moment Chōsō can get him. His family is possibly in danger and he can do nothing but struggle.

He’s mildly offended though since the last thing he wants to do is hurt the ones he’s drawn to. But he understands so he doesn’t take it to heart.

Chōsō’s attention soon goes back to Getō who throws his head back, laughter spilling his lips. “Oh, this is unexpected!”

The laughter only pisses Satoru off and excites Mahito. And meanwhile Chōsō is left with anticipation along with the others.

After his fit of laughter Getō hums with amusement and turns to look at Chōsō, smiling oh so sweetly with an evil twinkle in his eyes. “Well, go on then, Chōsō.”

Chōsō blinks, hearing his own ragged breathing and the permission granted from Getō.

“Go on and hunt Y/N down if you wish. It’s a shame I couldn’t capture them both, but this can work just as well if you capture—.”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Satoru practically howls, nearly foaming at the mouth.

But Getō ignores him, still staring daggers into Chōsō’s eyes. “Go, Chōsō. Take what’s yours.”

Chōsō feels disgust bubbling in his gut at his words, feeling that the ravenette meant something more sinister when he told him that. But he takes this chance and runs, wanting to find the person that triggered his rut and hope the ache goes away. He also hopes he can keep himself together.

You sprint like you never have before, the wind smacking your face and your lungs beginning to burn. Your heartbeat is like thunderous drums and the air doesn’t seem breathable to you.

That scent.

The scent of elderberries, a pinch of spice, and a touch of blood…

It’s imprinted in your mind no matter how much you try to forget it.

There’s just no way that he’s your fated one.

The universe truly likes to play wicked games…

What’s worse is that it seems like your meeting has brought upon his rut. You just hope to god that your cycle won’t come about from this.

You always take your medication, never missing a beat, but when alphas and omegas typically meet their fated pair or pairs it sometimes doesn’t matter, a cycle may or may not occur.

The best case for you obviously is that if you do hit your cycle, it comes after the battle. If you’re still alive anyways..

So you keep your fingers crossed and push it aside, trying to find the nearest group around.

And thankfully it’s Nanami’s you run into.

Just as you’re about to break the news you’re swiftly cut off by Yūji bellowing out that your brother has been sealed from atop a building.

It makes your chest ache at the news.

“Yeah… S’what I wanted to say,” you pant.

“There’s still hope since we have you here,” Nanami soothes while striding up to you, keeping calm and collected as he typically did.

“There’s just one more problem..”

“And that is?”

“I… I ran into an alpha who’s in a rut,” you explain, leaving out the crucial detail so as to not embarrass yourself. “And he may or may not be coming after me. I didn’t stop to check because Satoru really wanted me out of there,” you continue before gasping, a familiar face appearing in your mind.

“Oh shit! Kento, I just remembered! Suguru— no .. Someone wearing his face is the one behind this.”

Nanami’s eyes widen just a tad and a heavy sigh leaves him. Ino and Megumi both also become alarmed in various degrees.

“That truly is a problem for us all… Here.” The blond alpha rubs his wrist glands against the ones at your neck, dousing you in his comforting scent and slowly muting out yours.

Megumi even comes over and rubs his and your wrists together, not saying a word and not meeting your appreciative stare.

Meanwhile, Yūji is still yodeling.

“Thanks, Gumi. Go ahead and get Yuji,” you tell him softly, ruffling the young alpha’s spiky hair.

The teenager only nods before heading off to get to his friend.

Ino comes over and slings an arm around you for support and to subtly put his own scent on you while Nanami’s nose twitches a few times.

“Your scent should be muted enough, and I’m sure blood and sweat will cover it even more so you should be okay.”

“Thanks, you guys didn’t have to,” you murmur with a weak smile, anxiety still nipping at your heels.

“What did he look like,” asks the blond as you three head up to meet Yuji.

“Dude looks like he’s on death’s doorstep. Like sickly pale looking, dark bags under his eyes, cute spiky space buns, and he’s wearing mostly white and got a purple vest.”

He hums. “Noted. Try to stay with someone if you can.”

You nod. Simple enough but not completely possible.

And as expected you were practically everywhere in Shibuya as the battle ensued, curses swarming the city and people that’s still within the veil being in danger.

You do your best to keep everyone safe, especially the kids, but when the ground underneath you suddenly gets sliced along with a street sign, you throw yourself down the subway where Yūji went not too long ago, slaughtering curses that stood in your way

The underground transit is in complete disarray. Broken glass, walls dented and crumblings, electrical wiring exposed and popping, and blood splattered almost everywhere like it was some art project and the blood is red paint.

Suddenly a wall that connected from the bathroom crumbles away slightly, revealing a bit of pink hair peeking from the other side.

Your feet are already moving, Yūji’s name nearly falling from your lips as dread grips you tight and unforgivingly.

And there’s that smell again, only this time it’s ten times stronger…

Right as you get inside you see the man from before standing over Yūji’s body seemingly about to deliver the killing blow.

Fated person or not, no one was going to hurt the people you care about.

So with your technique you manipulate the water spurting out from the pipes and use it to lock onto the man’s throat, and with an aggravated cry you swing him around and throw him through the wall he made Yuji hit, feeling an immense amount of satisfaction from the pained cry he made.

With him being spat out on the other side seemingly laid out for now and away from Yūji, you rush to cradle the young omega’s bloodied body, fretting over him and trying to figure out how to deal with his shoulder.

You don’t have much to help him and you snap at Sukana to do something, but the bastard for once doesn’t have anything smart to say, the boy still unconscious and bleeding. You pick him up and rush out of the bathroom when a voice stops you in your tracks.

“W-Wait… Please don’t… Don’t go…”

A mixture of anger, stress, and touch of guilt form a cocktail in your gut at his wheezing, panic filled voice.

You hear him dragging his body desperately amongst the rubble to try and get to you.

“You must got a few loose screws in that head of yours,” you spit, turning to look at him.

“N-No, please I—! I had no idea he’s my brother!” he coughs, his pale lips stained with blood.

Your stiffen, your grip on the wounded boy tightening slightly. Either he’s really lost it , or… No, he’s definitely lost it.

“Please I—.”

“ I can’t help you ,” you force out. “Especially when you’re currently the enemy .” And with that, you force your feet to move, leaving him behind.

And Chōsō only watches you with a helpless expression, tears stinging his eyes and a pained noise leaving him as he gives up…

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crimsonkenjii-writes · 9 months

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Nanami Kento who fucks you with a condom. Multiple rounds, some used condoms tied up and tossed to the side carelessly. His mind becoming more fuzzy, more drunk off your pussy. The wet, lewd noises that comes from you drives him crazy and he cant hold himself back. He stops his thrusts, earning more whines from you as he pulls out. Snapping the condom off and shoving himself back into into you raw, guttural groan leaving his throat as he feels your warm walls grip around his length.

#one kid cant hurt right?#plus he can afford plan b if needed too #its missing him hours #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut

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lorelune · 2 years

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sensibilities

|| nanami kento x reader || T || a/b/o + hurt/comfort || wc: 3.4k || ao3 ||

You snarl, Nanami stays.

minors, antis, and ageless blogs dni

a/n: here’s a lil slice of the a/b/o AU that i’ve been living in for the past few months :’^) this is more or less a vent fic that’s set in the world, and getting to play w some of the world building while also using nanami as an emotional sounding board is just always so 😩✌🏻💗💗💗 enjoy!

CW: omegaverse (omega reader, alpha nanami, liberties taken within the AU), established relationship (prolly), reader is described briefly with visible blush, reader is snippy & a lil mean, comfort comfort comfort, heaps of it, loads of it!

The rain fit the mood, it seemed.

It came down hard enough that the slap of droplets against your porch window nearly drowned out the sound of your own haggard breathing. You couldn’t decide whether you wanted to throw yourself into the downpour, soak yourself through a second time, and scream or curl up in your nest and pray the feeling in your chest subsides. And that Nanami will leave, soundlessly, without requesting any further information about your mood.

You know you’re being unfair.

He deserves an explanation— he really does. It doesn’t matter that you’re in a particularly sensitive part of your cycle, or that you were triggered in such a way. It doesn’t justify your behavior. It doesn’t justify how you’re acting or make it okay. You know that, and you hate that you know how unreasonable you’re being. Yet, you’re entirely aware that you can’t stop.

“You should go.” You don’t look at him when you say in. You cradle your forehead in your hands and count your breaths. “We can talk about this later.”

Nanami doesn’t respond and doesn’t move either.

It makes you want to snap. Growl. Shout and stomp and have a tantrum, like a goddamn child. You know it’s not him— none of this is about him. It’s all you. Every last feeling bubbling and boiling you from the inside out has nothing to do with Nanami. It’s all your insecurities and trauma, pushed to the surface and festering in a way that feels so entirely uncontrollable. It’s yours to bear, and no one else's.

You rake your bitten nails over the scent glands in your neck, for both your own relief and so that they put off an extra wave of the acrid pheromones that you’re sure are suffocating Nanami. Good, part of you nearly cheers when you get the metallic edge to your scent. You smell like a properly cagey omega, radiating such an offensive aura that you’re surprised Nanami can even stand to be in the same apartment as you, let alone the same room.

“I don’t feel comfortable leaving you like this,” Nanami says, still unmoving.

You don’t look up at him, you don’t need to, to know that he’s wearing an expression that straddles pity and deep concern. You want to shove him out your apartment door, lock it, and block his number. Better yet, move, hop a train and go to some tiny little town to never be bothered again. It would be far better than having to deal with this, with people who care too much like him— better yet, people who try to care at all—

Nanami says your name, firm and authoritative. The omega in you cowers, but you still refuse to look at him. You hunch further over your kitchen counter, massaging your temples and white-knuckling the fabric of your shirt. There’s an inkling of an idea to submit to him, to bow and fall to your knees and beg the alpha to stay and balm your wounds, even if he can’t see them. You hate how loud it is. You hate how you have to swallow a whimper and chew your lip to keep the sound caged.

He takes a step toward you and you flinch, exhaling hard and hot. You don’t want to snap, but you’re at the razor's edge, just a breath or two away from screaming—

“I want to help you,” Nanami’s closer now, and when you peak at the floor from behind your palm; you can see the tips of his house slippers. “But, I can’t do that unless you tell me what’s wrong.”

He’s being firm, but not overbearing. He’s not crowding you, or pestering you— god forbid, demanding that you pour your bleeding, screaming heart at him. He’s coaxing. Nanami is doing the exact right thing, and it still isn’t enough. Because you’re not just some omega in preheat, are you? You’re not some hormonal mess (well, you are, but not in this context), you hurt and not the typical, needy, stubborn omega who’s baiting a kind alpha for attention.

“‘What’s wrong?’” You parrot, something bubbling up in the back of your throat. “What’s wrong, Kento, is that you’re still here when you should be fucking off somewhere and leaving me alone.”

You wince at your own words. Why are you being so cruel? Why are you lashing out? If Nanami would just leave, he wouldn’t have to see you like this. Deal with you like this. You could handle this on your own, as you always do.

Before Nanami can reply, you back peddle.

“I’m sorry,” You apologize, shaking your head and wrapping your arms around your midsection. “You need to go, Kento. I’m not in any headspace to have a calm discussion about my feelings right now. We can get lunch in a few days, and talk then.”

Good. Isolate, process, cry and hate yourself a little, and then get back on your feet. Good as new!

“No.”

You freeze, then slowly raise your head up. You’re barely able to see Nanami in your periphery, and you can’t make out the expression on his face. You feel heat chase from the top of your spine to the tips of your fingers, “… ‘no’? What the fuck does that mean, Kento?”

“It means that I’m not leaving you in this state,” Nanami keeps his voice measured, unwavering in tone. “You’re clearly distressed, and I don’t want to leave you on your own to manage this. I want to help, and I have several reasons to believe you need help.”

God, you really fucking hate when people tell you what you need. Even if Nanami is courting you, seriously courting you, he doesn’t fucking ‘know’ you. Not this part of you, anyways. The ugly mean part that you shove and bury and silence in private. He doesn’t get to know that part of you, no one does—

(Lest, you frighten them off.)

Nanami steps behind you, hovering, and speaks just above a whisper, “Something is hurting you, and I cannot in good conscious leave you alone to hurt.”

You snap.

You whirl around, still not meeting Nanami’s eyes, looking past him and speaking past him too. The feeling in your throat that’s been rising higher and higher drips from the back of your tongue to the front, souring every word and thought you could spew.

“Oh my fucking god,” You laugh, really laugh, because this is ridiculous and Nanami should just fucking leave. “Why won’t you listen and just leave. Me. Alone.”

“Because—”

“Because, why?” You ask, chest heaving. “Because I’m some fragile, weak omega who needs some alpha to pet me and tell me that’s its ‘all gonna be okay’?”

(You recognize, for a moment, how nice that would be, but shove down the feeling quickly.)

“No, that’s not it at all,” Nanami counters, and you turn your head to the side and sigh loud and hard. “It has very little to do with your omega status, but rather that you’re someone I care about, and I don’t want to see you suffer alone. It… hurts more, that way.”

“I’ll be fine, promise,” You scoff and huff.

“I think ‘fine’ for you is quite relative, dear.”

“Stop that,” You bark, a growl sparking in the back of your throat. “Stop talking like you know me. Stop talking like you ‘get’ the part of me that’s hurting right now.”

He says your name again, calls it out, but you refuse to hear it.

“NO!” You snap, going chest to chest with Nanami and snapping your teeth. The omega in you feels feral, ready to chomp and bite if it means you’ll be free and out of this situation. If it can rest and feel safe in your nest, even if you’re vibrating with adrenaline. “You don’t get it, Kento.”

“I could, if you’d let me.”

You turn your gaze to the floor, before slipping away from him, breathing far too hard and fast as you enter your living room. The rain keeps smacking against the glass, and it feels like a horrid staccato for your thoughts to follow in an awful, lilting tune.

“Do you really want to know, Kento? Really?” You laugh, running a hand through your already wild hair. It’s still damp from your earlier walk in the downpour. “I get it, I get you, and I know what you’re trying to do.”

“And, what’s that?”

“Take care of me.” You say, with a harsh breath and shake your head. You don’t want to be doing this. Shut the fuck up. “Be kind to me, when I’m like ‘this’. You’re trying to support a burning, collapsing building with bare arms and oven mitts, Kento. It’s a losing game.”

“… Do you really think of yourself that way?” Kento asked, softly.

You ignore him, you have to, and you keep speaking, “I don’t… I don’t want you to get tangled up in this part of me, Kento. I’ve already snapped at you. I’m being fucking mean, and I’d prefer to handle this alone. I don’t want you caught in the crossfire.”

“Why do you think your anger will hurt me, personally?”

“… I don’t know,” You sputter, “because that’s what anger does. At least, when I’m like this. And the more you try to ‘take care of me’ in that alpha-way I can feel you preambling too, the worst it’ll hurt."

“Even if you get barbed with me, it won’t make me care about you any less,” Kento says, softly. Like he’s sad you’ve… forgotten that fact. “I promise.”

“That’s not enough, it’s still cruel, I’m cruel—”

He calls your name, trying to pull you up from your rapidly developing spiral.

“Kento, I love you, and I can’t get away from the feeling that I’ll hurt you when I’m upset. I’ll hurt you when you’re trying to be kind to me and to take care of me. It’s your baser desire to protect me, versus my baser desire to protect me, and they’re incompatible.”

Kento stays quiet, listening.

“I just…” You fist your hand in your hair, begging for anything, anything to ground you. “I never have gotten this, you know? Sure, yeah, maybe, there’s a part of me that wants to be taken care of. Maybe it's a lot of me. But I don’t know how to be taken care of, without lashing out and hurting you. I don’t know how to accept your kindness in such a way, not so bluntly when I’m like this.”

“I’ve never gotten this before,” You admit again, something unwinding in your chest. “You know, beta parents with a 'beta’ brother. They didn’t cater to any of those… nurturing-craving needs I had when I was young. I’ve never had a proper mate or partner, either. I’ve always had to satiate those urges by myself, and I do a good enough job.”

You sniffle.

“So, it’s fucking scary, to let you in like this. What if I hurt you? I don’t how to step and move around people when everything’s so bad up here,” You tap your temple. “I know how to take care of myself. I… I don’t need anyone to do it for me.”

Nanami’s behind you, somewhere, and you’re glad about it. Your shoulders are drawn up, and your eyes sting with tears you’re begging not to shed. Your hand move to cover your mouth, lest some sort of weak sob escape.

“Perhaps you don’t need anyone to help you. You are wildly self-sufficient, and you have lived without a pack or partners your whole life,” Kento says. “I don’t doubt that you could manage your current feelings but yourself. But, wouldn’t it be nice to be helped? To let someone else carry the burden, even for a short moment?”

You think about it, really think about it.

It does sound nice. The omega in you, the you in you, wants it. It wants to turn, and run into Nanami’s arms and let him hold you and care for you. You want to trust him in such a way. But, there are too many variables. Too many ways to get hurt, and do hurting.

“I’ve always had to do this alone,” You say again. “It’s easier this way.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Nanami speaks so gently, it nearly hurts. “It’s not easier, to hold all of this alone. I’d say it's far worse in the long run.”

You think about your recent doctor’s appointment, and the folded up post-appointment write-up that had a big, bold new diagnosis for ‘ONS - omega neglect syndrome (chronic)’ and its long list of referrals underneath. Treatment recommendations that ranged from a long-term care facility for immersive care to manage your symptoms, down to simple things like being scented once a day by people you trust and love.

It is worse, in the long run.

“Maybe,” You admit. “Probably.”

A few stray tears dripple from your eyes, and you’re quick to wipe them away. Nanami moves closer— close enough that the heat of him is seeping into you, despite your soaked dress and cardigan.

“It doesn’t need to be perfect, and neither do you,” Nanami nearly whispers. His voice mixes with the drizzle outside as low thunder hums, far-off. “I know it’s hard for you, but if you try, I promise to catch you.”

“… How do I know you won’t drop me?” Your voice wobbles with your tears, and it takes everything in you not to fully cry. You’re terrified of it— more than hurting others is hurting yourself. You don’t want to misstep and be let down so horrible. You can’t afford to shatter, can you?

Or, maybe, that’s just what you need. To shatter and dissolve and be reminded that things will be okay, even if you’re in a fluid, messy state.

“I won’t,” Nanami tells you, firm and easily. There’s so much intention in his voice, that it squeezes your chest, just between your ribs.

You sputter over a sob.

“I don’t want you to face the world alone anymore,” Nanami inches closer, palms resting on your tense shoulders. “You don’t have to. You shouldn’t have to, and you don’t need to anymore.”

Just let me in.

Just try.

“I m-might be bad at it,” You say as you paw at your cheeks. “I don’t know how even if I want it.”

“All you need to do is trust me,” Nanami begins, peeling the soaked cardigan from your frame and tossing it to the side, “And surrender, the best you can.”

With deft fingers, Nanami pulls the thin straps of your dress to the side, down your arms. Your shoulders are bare, and the scar tissue on your right side gnarls tight over the remnants of the scent gland there. He places either palm on the side of your neck, and with the pads of his thumbs, applies the most gentle pressure on your under-stimulated glands. You can feel it, even through the thick flesh of your scar.

The moment you feel it, you sink. You go slack and you cry.

You don’t know how to surrender, and such a term scares you, terrifies you even. But, you figure this must be a good start. You cry, and cry, and sob as Nanami massages the tender flesh, releases his own calming pheromones to keep you as pliant and soft as possible. Any urge for you to snap and shout has dissolved. All that’s left in your chest is the dissipating pressure, that your sure will take more than one good sob session to remedy.

But, you figure that maybe, you’ll be okay to have more. As much as it hurts, it’s cathartic.

Nanami coaxes you over to the couch and pulls you down to sit between his legs. You’re mostly on his lap, and in any other context, you’d be embarrassed and pink-cheeked, but you can’t pay it much mind then. You shove your face into the crook of his neck, soaking in his scent with an open mouth and wet eyelashes.

Nanami holds you through it. Above the rain, thunder, and your own ragged breathing, Nanami gives you quiet praise. Heaps of it— loads. It’s nothing overzealous, or exaggerated, just soft ‘I’ve got you’s and ‘You’re doing beautifully’s.

When you begin to recover, catching your breath for a few moments, Nanami smooths a hand over your hair and kisses your temple with an easy, “That wasn’t so hard, was it, dear? I’m proud of you.”

It should be condescending, but it just makes you sink into him more, “I t-tried.”

You hiccup and Nanami chuckles, all warm with something that fills you up. You want more of it.

“And you did so well,” Nanami smiles— you can hear it in his voice. His lips press firmly against your forehead. “I want to hold you for a while more, then get you some water, and you can relax in your nest. Take a shower to warm up, perhaps.”

“… Will you come to?” You ask, fisting his shirt in your tight fists. You clarified as your cheeks warmed. “T-to nest with me, I mean.”

“If you let me enter, then yes,” He rubs a firm hand up and down your spine, settling it on the fat above your waist. “We can take a good nap, and then talk and prepare dinner later.”

It’s odd, to have a plan laid out in front of you like this. It’s not any different from one you’d make for yourself when you’re spiraling, but it's so, so different having it laid out for you by your partner. Your prospective mate is telling you how he’s going to make sure you’re warm, happy, and fed. Wow. It sparks up something in the core of your brain, and you swear your synapses must light up like an overworked pinball table.

“That sounds good,” You agree, tucking yourself closer. “I-I need a little longer like this, though.”

“Of course,” Nanami squeezes you, hard enough to be on the edge of hurting. He’s reminding you of his proximity and strength, all in one. “Take all the time you need.”

You nod, soft and slow, and go limp against his chest. Nanami settles as well, back against the cushions, and wraps a free arm all the way around your waist. It feels secure, and you know that if you even tried to pull away, Nanami wouldn’t let you get far. His scent is thick and comforting and makes you dizzy in the best way possible. As much as you’re acting like a proper omega, Nanami expresses his alpha traits in his own way too.

You’ve seen some alphas who express their instincts through dominance displays with other means— fighting and shouting obscenities that scare you into submission. You know some alphas hit and claw to get omegas to comply with them. It’s fear and violence that guide some alphas when seeking to establish control and assert themselves.

Nanami’s not like that.

Nanami’s coaxed you into submission. All he did was give you a few choice words, gentle touches, and let you suck down his scent until your vision went fuzzy. Dimly, you don’t think that you’ve ever experienced this type of submission and care. It’s different than the overbearing, heavy-handed way you’d experienced in some of your omegan etiquette classes when you were young. It’s far different from the shameful displays some of the alphas at your workplace put on.

It’s just good.

It must be quite good for Nanami too because after some time, a rumbling purr echoes from the base of his throat. You nuzzle against him, where you feel the sound the strongest. You lick at the patch of skin even, your mind too foggy to realize the implications.

Nanami doesn’t seem to mind, and responds in kind, properly scenting you with the bump of his nose against your temple. You raise your head up as he rubs his cheek against your fully functional scent gland, and rubs the inside of his wrist over your back and arms. You do the same in turn, even pressing your lips against his jaw a few times.

“Thank you,” You say softly, after resting against him once more.

“Of course,” He replies, voice mixing with his pure as he draws you even closer.

And you think that maybe letting yourself be held every once in a while could be quite good.

thank you for reading <3

#lore writes #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami reader insert #jjk x reader #posting this one then running 🏃🏻‍♂️💨!!!#needing that hurt/comfort rn and a/b/o is so good for it #alpha nanami... woof #emotionally and physically #hope you enjoy!!!! 💕

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girlwithalotoffeelings · 1 year

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Ok so I'm very new to Tumblr since Twitter went to shit... so I have no idea how to do all of the fancy stuff like a tag list or an ask box (i wouldnt mind if someone wanted to show me) but imma write smut here i am comfortable writing everything except children (for mha content i will be aging up characters where necessary) outright r*pe(pre-duscussed consent, dub-con are ok,) so you can request if ya want feel free to request from

Attack on titan

My hero academia

Jujitsu kaisen

Haikyuu

Ps. Pls send me anime recommendations

Pss. I'm high while writing this, so please forgive me if it sounds weird and mechanical or has spelling mistakes.

#abo dynamics #bnha smut #eren smut #katsuki bakugou smut #alpha beta omega #omegaverse #bakugou smut #katsuki bakugou x reader #alpha and omega #a/b/o #jujutsu megumi #jujutsu toji #jujutsu nanami #jujutsu kaisen #hq smut #kageyama smut

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bizbat · 3 months

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I have a few things I'm already working on, but I wanna know what you guys want to see next.

Final results here! There were five hours left but i got impatient.

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sugume · 3 months

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r/ATIA for WHAT!? w/Jujutsu Kaisen

More: Fem!Reader, dark & explicit content, dubcon, piss kink, necrophilia, manhandling, choking, coercion, teacher x student, power dynamics, blackmail, threesome, Cuck!Gojo, drinking. unedited

Featuring: Nanami Kento, Choso Kamo, Ryomen Sukuna, Gojo Satoru

PART 2

r/fuckingmystudent posted by u/Nanami_Kento

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you try to recall the events that lead you to get your brains fucked by your professor. He caught you filming a video for your Onlyfans in his class. So, he took your phone and asked you to meet him in his office after class. There, he forced you to unlock your phone and show him what exactly you were recording. It was utterly humiliating and watching him, watch you, finger yourself with a pen underneath the desk. After, he’d told you that he’d tell the dean you were getting off on his voice lecturing you unless you did something for him. Which led you ass up on his desk, trying your hardest not to make a peep as his fat cock slammed in and out of you. “Now, what I'm going to do is take out my cell,” He grunts, rolling his hips deep into you. “And record you slamming your ass onto my cock so if you decide to open that sweet mouth of yours, I'll have no choice but to send this video to mommy and daddy back at home, understand?” You nod, tears forming in your eyes from the threat or incoming orgasm, probably both. “Say ‘Yes, Professor!’ and maybe I'll send you the video so you can post it and feed yourself this week.”

r/peeinginher posted by u/choso_Kamo

Ankles beside your head, Choso had you folded in half as he pounded into your swollen cunt. He’d been going for what felt like hours and you were about to reach another peak when he abruptly stopped. “Choso?” you rasp, voice raw from screaming. “What’s wrong, baby?” You ask, staring up at him as he stares down at your glistening cunt. He just tilts his head and continues to stare. You’re about to ask again when he blinks from whatever trance he is in and starts thrusting in and out, slower this time. “Nothin’ baby, jus’ gotta piss.” “T-then stop and go, hm–” you gasp when he pushes your legs down further. “Stop and go to the bathroom Cho.” you try to pull his hands off your calves. Choso tightens his hold and grins down at you. “C-Choso?” “Why would I get up when I have a perfectly capable toilet right here.” Is all you hear before you suddenly feel a foreign warmth in your cunt followed by wetness trickling out your pussy.

r/askinghertoplaydead posted by u/Ryomen_Sukuna

“You wan’ me to do what?” You ask, staring up at him from your position between his legs. “I asked you to stop suckin’ my cock and hang off the bed like a drugged-up bitch on her last life.” He stares at you with a look that tells you he isn’t truly asking. “B-but ‘Kuna—” He grabs your throat. “Don’t you wanna make me happy, hm?” You grab the hand around your neck. “Mhm.” “This ‘ll make me happy, little girl,” He plants a firm kiss on your lips. “Now do as I told you, actually I’ll do it, I know you aren’t the best at following orders.” He says before pushing you back like a ragdoll. “Yes, now lay there, don’t move, don’t speak.” Sukuna reiterates, finally satisfied with your position, naked on your stomach with your head hanging off the bed. He wastes no time shoving his big cock into your cunt. You groan from the sudden intrusion “Kuna!” “Shut up, dead bitches don’t fuckin’ make sounds.”

r/forcinga3some posted by u/Gojo_Satoru

“Sit on his cock love,” Gojo demands, grabbing you by the waist and throwing you onto Suguru’s lap. “S-Satoru!” “’ Toru!” You and Geto screech at the same time. “C’mon guys, it’s fine I don’t mind, Loosen up!” Gojo looks at you on his best friend's lap and his cock twitching underneath his pants. He palms it. Don’t worry, we’ll have our turn. “I know you two want to fuck, c'mon! Do I really have to pull it out and shove it up your tight cunt?” Goji grits out, increasingly frustrated when the two of you stare at him like a pair of deer in headlights. “Baby, I-it was just a truth or dare question!” Your head aches and you put both of your hands on Suguru’s broad shoulders to stable yourself, trying and failing to ignore his hard under your panty-covered pussy. “Was it? So, you aren’t wet right now? And you Suguru? You aren't rock fucking hard at the thought of fucking the same pussy I cum in every night?” Gojo raises his eyebrow holding eye contact with you until you look away, face flushed. Suguru sighs, throwing his head back with murmured ‘fuck this.’ before grabbing your waist. “Yes! That’s what I thought. Ha!” Gojo laughs, watching as Suguru starts grinding you down on his bulge.

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zarameraki · 4 months

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♡₊˚☀️・₊✧ 𝗻𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶'𝘀 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 & 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗶𝗱𝗻'𝘁 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 ♡₊˚☀️・₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 he's obsessed to the max 𖥔 ceo x baker 𖥔 grumpy x sunshine 𖥔 she talks a lot x he listens a lot 𖥔 spoils the literal shit out of you 𖥔 mention of parental death 𖥔 major fluff 𖥔 sexual content in vague details 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 super soft nanami 𖥔 close proximity 𖥔 he loves kissing the fuck out of you

: ̗̀➛ words: 7.7k

: ̗̀➛ notes: you guys are so sweet for supporting my toji fanfic which is why i wanted to write another and this time its about my husband, the father of our children, the man who deserves every beautiful thing in this world. if you enjoy my work, please leave a comment, like, and reblog! thank you & ily. enjoy!

Nanami Kento entered your bakery at exactly six o' clock.

You carefully observed the moments he dedicated to perusing the array of pastries, the vibrant mountain of macaroons, and the freshly baked, warm casse-croûte that you unfailingly prepared for him when he clocked out. There was a tender quality to his countenance, noticeable in the slight release of tension between his brows as the soft, buttery flakes dissolved on his tongue in your presence. Without fail, he consistently left a generous tip in your travel jar, dedicated to a solo trip to Malaysia.

"Did you know they've got this thing about not wearing yellow in Malaysia?" you mentioned during your initial meeting, eyeing the distinctive black-dotted tie worn by the stoic salaryman. "Well, not that your tie would get you in trouble; it's not entirely yellow. In fact, I think it's perfect as it is, just like your hair, which also has a touch of yellow.”

Please cut your tongue off.

Anticipating a polite nod and perhaps a slightly regretful five-dollar tip left in the jar, you were taken aback when he queried, “Why is that?”

“Oh, uh . . . a bunch of protesters wore the color during a demand for their prime minister to step down," you stumbled, feeling a twinge of embarrassment for veering off into an unintentional crash course. Dropping trivia about Malaysia wasn't exactly the same as flirting. "So, it's kind of become a symbolism for protest and, well, threat. I read it in a book once. I don't know if it's a legitimate law, though."

“Do you like reading?” he asked, still interested in conversing with you. “Most people would Google information.”

“I like reading. It’s easier to retain information that way.”

Nanami acknowledged your gesture with a nod of gratitude as he accepted the casse-croûte and exited your bakery. Anticipating that he might not return due to his reserved nature and your awkward attempts at compliment-flirting, you were surprised to find that he was, in fact, full of surprises.

Nanami became a regular visitor. Day after day, for the past year, he arrived at precisely six o' clock. He continued his routine, whether he purchased a box of pastries, a pair of bagged bread loaves, or simply a casse-croûte and a small cup of milk coffee. You always prepared his order five minutes ahead of time, just in case you were occupied with other customers.

"Enjoy!" you chirped, casting a warm smile at the customer you just served as the bakery slowly emptied, leaving only Nanami browsing the delightful array of small cakes. "Good evening, Mr. Nanami!"

Nanami raised his head in your direction. "Good evening." He finally settled on the black forest cake from the open freezer and brought it to the counter.

"Special occasion?" you inquired as you rang him out, sneakily not charging him for the casse-croûte and coffee. There was a special occasion of your own that you were eager to share, hanging from the tip of your tongue.

"An intern's birthday."

"Sounds fun!" You had been saving up for your birthday present since summer, and Nanami had played a significant role. "When's your birthday?"

"July third."

Your eyes widened with surprise. "No way! Mine is July sixth. We’re summer babies."

“Happy belated birthday,” he said, fishing for his wallet, gaze barely meeting yours.

"Same to you." Offering the sandwich and coffee, you extended them towards him. "Consider it a belated birthday treat."

Nanami’s brows crinkled. “I cannot accept.”

"Why not? It's a gift." You slid the items closer with a subtle nudge, leaving him little room to refuse. "And you've given me a priceless gift, Mr. Nanami." Your eyes hinted at the tip jar's location, which now lay empty.

“Were you robbed?” he asked, concern evident in his voice.

“What—? No! Oh my god. You’re so funny.” A chuckle escaped behind your fist, and he observed you momentarily before glancing away. "I'm heading to Malaysia next week!"

Nanami gave a subtle nod. Although his lack of a more animated response disappointed you, you understood that shortness was his nature. "Congratulations.”

"Thank you, Mr. Nanami. Your generous tips really made a difference. They covered half of our trip.”

“Our? It’s not a solo trip?”

You let out a little nervous laugh. Should you really be telling Nanami about your crippling love life? Would he even be interested? Well, he seemed to listen carefully when you talk. Maybe he wouldn’t care, but you really needed someone to talk to about this. Unfortunately, all your friends were too busy with their marriages to care.

“Well?” Nanami prompted.

"Right, sorry. It's just—I've actually been seeing someone. Funny enough, we met in a Facebook group for solo travelers. He lives in a nearby town.”

Unexpectedly, Nanami's first question caught you off guard. "Can you trust him?" His concern surfaced, causing you to pause. "I'm only asking because you met this man online. You can't trust strangers on the internet."

"Thank you, Mr. Nanami, but I’m capable enough to know about stranger danger," you said with a funny smile, dismissing his parental concern. "Besides, we’ve gone on a few dates over the past month."

Nanami's frown remained intact. "Correct me if I’m wrong, but are you paying for him, too?"

"Yes."

“Why?” Nanami asked, firmly placing his palms on the counter, making it clear he wasn't leaving until he was convinced you wouldn't get in trouble during your Malaysian adventure.

"What do you mean 'why'?"

His mouth opened but then closed into a thin line, his forehead lines deepening. "It’s not my place to tell you what’s right and what isn’t—"

"Yes, you’re right about that," you interrupted.

"—but this is bordering on recklessness. You cannot use your trip’s money to pay for a man you’ve known for a mere month. Why is he even in the traveler’s group if he cannot afford to pay for himself?"

"Mr. Nan—"

"You are being scammed."

Your teeth clenched together. You rarely got impatient. Years in the hospitality industry and dealing with misogynistic tenants didn't break you. Even setting up your bakery and almost draining your savings didn't dim your optimism.

But getting scolded by someone who barely spoke more than five sentences to you in a whole year of being a regular? That's pushing it.

He didn't know you or Toji, the guy you're seeing. He didn’t understand how much you appreciated him accompanying you. So what if you covered his share of the trip expenses? Toji promised to pay you back, and he's been paying the bills for your dates. They might not be fancy, but it's the gesture that matters.

Sure, Nanami chipped in some money, and you're thankful for that. But he has no right to question you. Other people also contributed to your travel fund; it's not like he single-handedly financed the whole trip. You appreciated his support, but he was not in a position to lecture you.

With a sigh, you managed to contain your frustration and said, "Have a great rest of your night, Mr. Nanami.”

Nanami's frustration was palpable as he stood firm, his gaze piercing through the windows of your soul. “I suggest you take my advice into serious consideration. It would greatly upset me if you had the chance to visit one of your favorite countries taken from you.”

You didn't bother watching him go. Instead, your discovery awaited you at the counter—the money for the coffee and casse-croûte lay there, accompanied by a crumpled yellow note that had slipped to the floor. Moving around the counter, you picked it up and smoothed out its wrinkles.

What greeted you was your own name scrawled across the sticky note, repeated around fifty times, the letters overlapping in a chaotic dance. Some were hastily scratched out, while others were executed with perfect cursive precision. You didn’t know what to make of it.

During your confusion, a new customer walked in. Quickly, you pocketed the note, focused on carrying on with your day despite the lingering frustration that Nanami's cryptic message had left in its wake.

Toji never showed up.

You waited for him for two agonizing hours, extending the torture even more after your flight had taken off. It dawned on you that he likely didn't bother getting a ticket. He probably pocketed the money you sent him and vanished into thin air. Every attempt to reach him failed miserably—your calls were forwarded, and the fifth one hammered the heartbreaking truth that he had blocked your number. To compound your misery, you sent him a string of text messages that refused to deliver your pain. You didn't even know where he lived, as your encounters were always in the obscure locations of your budgeted dates.

The thought of reporting him to the police crossed your mind, accusing him of theft, but the lack of photographic evidence left you helpless. To make matters worse, he hated taking pictures, and you were uncertain if the name he provided was even real. All that remained was a flicker of hope that you might cross paths with the bastard and unleash your pent-up rage with a hard kick to his dick.

With a heavy heart, you gathered your strength, brushed away the tears until not a single trace remained on your lashes, and lugged your suitcase and carry-on outside the airport, hoping to hail a cab.

The idea of facing the upcoming days at work felt agonizing, goading you to spend them in the isolation of your shabby apartment. You were engrossed in a depressing routine—microwaved dinners, aimless hours on the couch, and a marathon of old cable TV shows.

As hunger struck again, you contemplated your options. Baking seemed like a possibility, but motivation had abandoned you. Pasta could be an option, but the lack of noodles and tomato sauce made it impractical. So, you settled for the one thing that required no ingredients: crying.

At least that was free.

Despite the inner turmoil, you mustered the strength to shoulder your overcoat, sporting your fleece pajamas printed with candy canes and well-worn second-hand boots.

The short walk to the corner store felt longer than usual, the biting cold making you clutch your threadbare coat tighter. Your teeth chattered in protest as you entered, and the rush of warm air was a momentary relief against the chill. Fingers numb, you mindlessly reached for familiar comfort snacks—chips, chocolate milk, anything to dull the ache.

A hand much larger than yours beat you to the last packet of croissants.

“Ah, sorry.” You let it go. “All yours—” You choked as you looked up, and up, at Nanami staring at you wide-eyed, his hazel eyes flickering at a rapid speed as if he were hallucinating your presence. Your face flushed with embarrassment, and the weight of the past five days crammed upon you—his uncanny prediction, your own naivety, and the sting of being swindled. “Mr. Nanami . . . ”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in—”

“Good night.”

With a dismissive shake of your head, you left the basket on the counter, mumbled a quick apology, and retreated back into the biting cold.

You’ve faced tons of humiliating moments—slipping in front of customers, your purse strap getting snagged in a door and dragging you back, and that one unforgettable instance when a little boy labeled your eyebrows as caterpillars in front of a line of onlookers. Yet, none of those incidents could hold a candle to the awkwardness of bumping into the very man who had warned you about the ill-fated choice of paying for a stranger's trip—stranger now—when it was supposed to be your trip.

You felt a firm grip on your wrist, making your restless pacing suddenly stop.

Startled, you turned around to find a pair of expressionless hazel eyes and a slightly out-of-breath figure. Now is not the time to ogle Mr. Nanami’s broad shoulders, you idiot!

Releasing your wrist, he handed over a white, plastic bag. With a raised eyebrow, you peered inside to inspect its contents. It held everything from your shopping basket, including the last packet of croissants. Even more unexpected, he had paid for it all.

“I’ll pay you back tomorrow,” you assured, your eyes already scanning for the nearest ATM, just in case you forgot. "But for now." You pulled out the packaged croissants and extended them toward him. Your body was shaking, not because of November but because of how you were scammed after being forewarned by Nanami. “Please. Take it.”

He took your small hand in both of his, the warmth immediately melting the tension in your body. “So cold.”

A soft giggle escaped you at the obvious observation, and you placed your free hand on top of his. "So warm." Sniffling, tears welled up in your eyes. "You know what else is warm? The sun. And it's yellow. It's so yellow."

“Factually speaking, it is white.”

You wiped an arm across your nose. “What?”

“The sun. It’s white. It’s only yellow in children's books.”

You weren't about to argue with the guy who vindicated your slip-ups. Still, given the circumstances, you wished he'd soften the bluntness and let you bask in the illusion that the sun was a simple shade of yellow.

"I've always loved the color yellow," you mumbled. "Maybe getting scammed was a blessing. I'd probably get fined for wearing yellow otherwise. I couldn't afford to mess up on my trip. Besides, it all depends on the shade, right? Imagine how many fines I'd rack up just testing which shade of yellow suits me—"

Nanami tugged you close, capturing your lips with his.

A sharp intake of breath filled your lungs, eyes widening in surprise. Instinctively, your hands pushed him away, fingers grazing your tingling lips.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Don’t—Don’t worry. About it.” You tucked your lips in and tasted chocolate and mint—two of your favorite combinations. Nanami always seemed like the kind of man who would hate both flavors independently and dependently. “You’re okay. I mean—You’re okay in general. You’re not okay with kissing. You’re probably great, I’m sure.” Your tongue traced the curve of your lower lip, and Nanami’s eyes followed the motion. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”

You walked up to him, grabbed the lapels of his coat, and tugged him down a notch, your lips colliding with his.

Nanami's touch was calculated, his hand sailing onto your cheek, feeding warmth to your cold ear before vanishing into the labyrinth of your hair. Simultaneously, the other serpentined to the small of your back, his magnetic energy drawing you snugly against his chest. His warm tongue delicately swept across your lower lip, an unspoken cue that encouraged you to part your lips in response.

Nanami deepened the kiss, your tongues stroking against one another feverishly as if it were your last kiss. Who knows? Maybe it could’ve been. But the way he kissed with such desperation, releasing soft moans, not allowing you a moment to catch your breath, made you think that maybe this was just the start.

And you kissed him back just as needy.

If your hands slightly released their hold on his lapels, you'd gently cup the sides of his neck, rising on your tiptoes. And if your calves protested, you'd draw him down, wrapping your arms around his neck, your fingers entwining in his pale, golden locks. The taste of mint chocolate lingered on your lips, and a smile curved on your mouth as he stole a quick peck, pulling back just to gaze into your eyes for a moment before kissing you again.

You’re not sure how long you two stood and kissed there. Nanami was the one who always took the lead, savoring the taste of your pink, tender tongue, kissing your chilly cheeks and dewy eyes. The desire for each other made it hard to break away, yet the need for a breath of air was undeniable.

Finally, you decided to be the one to step back, signalling the end of your first kiss with him.

Your bottom lip tingled as you pulled it in, jaw aching from the infectious smile that had taken over your face. You couldn't help stealing glances at the tall man before you, who returned your gaze with a soft, almost imperceptible grin. Yet, in his eyes, under the gentle glow of the streetlight, you could see the excitement and joy of kissing you, twinkling brightly.

“I'm gonna—”

“I should—”

Both of you sighed; you with a soft chuckle, and him with a discreet throat-clearing.

“I've already missed quite a few workdays,” you said. “Gotta earn that dough if I want to make next month’s rent.” Nanami didn’t quite catch your bakery pun, but he nodded in agreement.

“Right,” you murmured, subtly veering to the side, putting on a little show as you started to walk away. You admitted it—you were a hopeless romantic. You secretly hoped for him to steal a kiss on your cheek and watch until you safely disappeared around the corner. “I’m off now.”

“Goodnight,” Nanami replied, subtly licking his lips for the sixteenth time. Yes, you were keeping count.

“Night-night.”

Nanami strolled down his end of the sidewalk. You followed suit, turning down your street.

Luck had only sometimes been on your side when it came to men and their romantic gestures. Oh well. At least you experienced a passionate kiss from one of your favorite customers. Asking for more seemed a bit too much—

A hand gently pressed against your back, and as you turned, it gracefully curved around your waist, drawing you in. Nanami caught your gasp and kissed you with an urgency that doubled, holding onto you as if his life depended on it, lifting you off your toes. Three sweet pecks later, he released you, both of your faces flushed.

"Get home safely," he whispered, walking away without a second glance.

That night, you couldn't help but giggle into your mascara-stained pillow.

The morning after, you were a whirlwind of joy and light, twirling through the bakery with trays of freshly baked pastries, replenishing boxes and take-out essentials. You greeted customers with an extra dose of sweetness, and to top it off, you even handed out a tray of delectable chocolate jam cookies. And you wore a yellow bow in your hair.

The oven beeped as the casse-croûtes finished baking, signaling their readiness for Nanami's arrival in just five minutes. You took special care in preparing his milk coffee, indulging in a quiet chuckle at your undeniable favoritism. Though the neighborhood bakery wasn't bustling with a large customer base, your attention was solely dedicated to him—your only regular as everyone else buzzed in the distant city an hour away.

With his coffee prepared and two casse-croûtes packed, you added a chocolate-mint cookie to the bag. Then, you decided to rearrange the shelves of gift baskets to pass the time.

Setting up the ladder, you ascended the shaky steps until you were eye to eye with the fifth shelf. Heights were never your forte, which, in hindsight, was another reason why flying to Malaysia was out of the question. The more you thought about being scammed, the more your heart wrenched from your lost trip. You’d again brought out your tip jar and prayed the odds were in your favor. Hell, maybe you’d ask Nanami to join you if you decided to take your relationship to the next level.

As you secured the bow on the basket, your gaze landed on the clock—6:30 p.m., and Nanami was a no-show.

Anxiety surged through you in an instant.

Did he leave you hanging? Maybe that kiss was a turnoff, and he chose to disappear rather than be upfront about finding you too overwhelming. Did your breath smell bad? Were you a terrible kisser? Or, worse, did something happen to him?

A torrent of worries flooded your mind, breaking through like a burst dam. Each imagined scenario seemed more nightmarish than the last, causing your head to spin. Recent events, like Toji's betrayal, fueled this self-doubt, made you question your intuition. While Nanami was clearly wealthy, consistently tipping a twenty each day, you found yourself questioning whether he had plans to use you for something else. As if that weren't enough, doubts crept in about your appearance and your optimistic, extroverted personality.

It started to make sense, didn't it? Nanami led a tranquil life, sticking to a routine of work and home, while you were a whirlwind of spontaneity—constantly buzzing with new ideas and discussions, unable to sit still or resist laughter at the silliest jokes. Everything seemed to fascinate you, yet nothing appeared to faze him. How could you have been so naive to entertain the thought—

“Good evening.”

“Ah!” you yelped at the sudden baritone intruding into your thoughts. Your foot, betrayed by the unexpected intrusion, lost its balance on the step. Your arms flailed in a desperate attempt to find stability as you teetered backward, the impending hazard of a severe concussion and potential spinal cord injury looming.

But just as you were prepared to shake hands with God, Nanami's powerful arms swooped in at the last possible moment. With a secure hold, he cradled you in a bridal style, and you clung to him like a shaking puppy, arms looped around his neck.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his breath slightly labored.

You gingerly peeled one eye open to peek at him. His expression was one of calm disorientation; eyebrows knit together while his lips maintained a straight, tight line.

"Yes," you whispered, soothed by his timely intervention.

Nanami steadied you back onto your feet but maintained a firm grip on your elbows. “Look at me.” As you did, he inspected each eye closely while keeping his hand steady on your left cheek. He checked below your jaw, down to your dusty palms, which he cleaned with his silk handkerchief. He also patted down your tousled hair. "Are you sure you're okay?"

“Mm-hmm.” You could cry from how gentle he was with you. “A-Are you okay?”

“I am now.” He took a composed breath and effortlessly retrieved his suitcase from the floor, brushing off invisible dust. “I apologize for being late. My . . . car broke down.”

"What? Oh my god! Do you need me to give you my mechanic's number? I promise he's not as bad as the Google reviews say. He's actually quite a sweet man. And he gives me a friends and family discount because my father was close with him." You beamed, and Nanami squinted his eyes as if the brightness of your smile momentarily blinded him, but he tried his best to reciprocate.

“Do your parents live here?”

You shook your head. “They passed away a while ago.”

“I apologize.”

"Don't be." You quickly switched subjects by fluttering towards the counter to pick up his items. “Tell me how your coffee tastes.” You turned around, adding, “I switched to a new brand of milk—”

Nanami pressed his lips against yours, momentarily freezing you. His seamless transition afterward could have fooled an onlooker into thinking you'd been married for years. "Thank you.” He took a sip and nodded thoughtfully. “It’s great. Everything you make is great.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, sudden shyness enveloping you. From the kiss? The compliment? Him? You didn’t know at all. “Do you still need me to give you the mechanic’s number?”

“It’s all right. I had it fixed. Minor battery issue, that’s all.”

“Ah, okay. See, that’s why I prefer to walk.”

Nanami glanced elsewhere, nodding. “Then, would you like to walk with me after you’ve closed?”

“Oh.” A subtle flicker of surprise crossed your features. Nonchalantly, you brushed a strand of hair behind your ear before smiling warmly. “Of course, yes. I’d love to go on a walk with you. Where are we going? There are lots of cafés in a nearby shopping district. I know all the best places to take you to.” A grave thought struck you just then. “Oh, actually. Hmm.”

Curious, he tilted his head down, meeting your worried gaze. "What is it?"

"Well," you began, your thoughts taking a cautious turn, "you probably have a set time to be home unless you live nearby. In that case, we could spend the entire evening strolling around. Only if you're interested, of course."

Nanami’s lips twitched. “I live nearby.”

“Where?” You weren’t ashamed to have been so upfront. It was more of a precautionary measure.

And he didn't seem bothered, quickly revealing the familiar neighborhood you instantly recognized. It was a fifteen-minute walk from your own place.

"May I step out momentarily to make a call?" Nanami asked, pulling out his phone. It was the latest model you noticed—one that came out last week and mocked your own that was five versions older. “It will be quick.”

“By all means.” You had to fix your hair and make-up anyway.

Nanami nodded and exited the shop, leaving you to flee behind the counter. As you crouched down to check yourself in the small mirror tucked away in the lower drawer, you couldn't help but feel a warmth on your face from the unexpected collapse, the sweet, brief kiss, and his impeccable navy blue suit decorated with yellow cufflinks. Maybe a café was too casual for him; a restaurant might have been a more suitable choice. An expensive choice. However, you were adamant about not letting Nanami cover the entire cost.

Upon his return, five minutes later, you both settled at one of the three round tables in your bakery (he even pulled out your chair for you). Sipping on your coffees and enjoying the casse-croûtes and chocolate pastries, the conversation seemed somewhat one-sided. Yet, Nanami's aloof demeanor never made you feel inferior for dominating the dialogue. He listened to every word and vowel with his undivided attention, nodding alongside and adding in short sentences when he could relate to your childhood shenanigans.

"Wait," he interrupted, causing you to halt in your tracks. The sun cast a warm glow on his face, making his eyes narrow into slits, but God did he look handsome. He extended his hand and brushed a thumb near your lips, discovering a small chocolate smudge. Swiftly, he licked it clean and tidied up the area around your lips with a napkin. "Beautiful."

“What?”

Nanami was a deer in headlights. He sunk his head, beating himself up from murmuring his thoughts aloud—at least, that’s what you concluded. "You look beautiful," he declared with more assurance, his gaze on your face. "You are beautiful, Y/N."

Oh, my.

Your heart was going to claw itself out of your chest. You could cook an egg on your face from how heated it had gotten. In fact, you were burning hotter than the sun, which continuously made him squint and blink. “Thank you.”

He nodded twice, finishing the remnants of his coffee. Rising, he disposed of the cups and wrappers in the garbage bin, then extended a hand to help you stand. "I'll wait outside while you close up."

At a lightning pace, you ensured that everything in the bakery was safely unplugged and shut off. Grabbing your purse, you gave yourself a quick once-over in the mirror, adjusting your face and hair. Stepping outside, you meticulously locked the door and gates.

Without a word, Nanami entwined his fingers with yours, causing you to smile like an idiot at him. He maintained a straight, vigilant gaze, seemingly unresponsive as you wrapped yourself around his arm. A subtle smirk tugged at your lips when you felt his muscles flex.

You walked for hours, café-hopping and trying pastries, baked goods, and sweet drinks. Every time Nanami attempted to cover the expenses with his cash, you scolded him, insisting that since you had suggested the place, you should be the one to pay. It was a rule you had read about online, and all your friends stuck to it religiously. The thought of Nanami spending his hard-earned money on your interests made you feel incredibly guilty.

As a matter of fact, you were feeling guilty about tons of things. He told you he worked at an investment firm, which meant it was a nine-to-five, likely sporting a migraine he kept hidden, and now he was being dragged around the shopping district by you, forced to listen to you because he was a man who didn’t complain, wouldn’t complain, and long, story short, you wanted to die.

“Kento,” you muttered, removing your hand from his, goosebumps rippling on your skin.

“Yes, darling?”

Your chest felt like it was being clenched in a fist. “I'm . . . I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For making you do all this. For making you pay for everything. For dragging you around when you're probably on the verge of exhaustion." Avoiding his gaze, you fixed your eyes on the concrete beneath you. “I know I can be too much sometimes—well, all the time.” A self-deprecating chuckle escaped your lips. "Exes in my past relationships have made it clear. I get overly excited easily, crave attention like one needs oxygen, trust people too easily to the point of getting scammed, and, well, I don't bring anything particularly special to the table. I'm sorry, Kento. Maybe it's best if we just stay friends?”

Nanami’s soft fingers lifted your chin up. Your words absolutely shattered his face, leaving you to feel worse than before. His lips were parted into a frown, his brows were scrunched up, brown irises flickering like he couldn’t believe you said that. This was the most reaction he had given you in the year that you’ve known him.

“No,” he said.

You blinked the tears gathered at your waterline. “No?”

“No.” Nanami took a calming breath, closing his eyes. His forehead gently pressed against yours. “Please, let me be selfish for this once. For you. I can’t let you go—I won’t let you go."

"Kento—"

"I want to do this, Y/N. I want to pay for everything. I want you to drag me around because I’ll never be too tired for you.” Nanami drew back and cradled your sobbing face in his large hands. “I know I fail to show it, darling, but I love your excitement. I love paying attention to every detail of you because you’ve become my oxygen source. You’re a good, kindhearted woman, and anyone would be lucky to be seen by you. And you don’t have to bring anything to the table because there isn’t one dividing us, keeping us lengths apart.” His lips brushed your forehead, imprinting his words into your mind. "I want us to be more than just friends. I want us to be best friends. Lovers. In this life and the ones that follow."

You could explode.

Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, seeking support as if the ground beneath you was about to crumble. Yet, you knew he would catch you, just as before. He was so real, embracing you wholly, both of you breathing in each other's scents to confirm a human like this could exist. How grateful you were he stumbled into your bakery that one rainy night, and how grateful he was that you offered him free coffee and a casse-croûte while he was freezing and trembling. His presence brought life to your bakery, gave you something to look forward to when you were at your lowest, and you gave him . . . everything. You were his everything since the first day.

As the shared silence lingered, Nanami's phone shattered the moment, its noisy ring cutting through the haze. You instinctively stepped back, but he clung to your hand as if afraid you might slip away.

Never, Nanami Kento. You’re stuck with me.

When he took out his phone, you caught a glimpse of the contact name: Satoru (assistant).

Before you could process the fact Nanami had an assistant, he swiped right. “Yeah?”

The voice on the other end resonated with loud cheerfulness in the quiet alleyway. Nanami half-rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Very well. Leave it there. I’ll be there when I want to.”

The assistant chuckled and sang his goodbye, the cheerful tone abruptly cutting off as Nanami ended the call and slid his phone back into his pocket.

“Do all stockbrokers have assistants?”

He tilted his head. “I’m not a stockbroker.”

“Oh? I’m sorry. I assumed because you worked at an investment firm.”

“Yes, I was a stockbroker.” He nodded, warming your hand in his, then casually added, “But I own a firm now.”

Your brows hit your hairline. “That’s amazing!”

“Thank you. We have several locations around the country. Kento Investments. Have you heard of it?”

Heard of it? You were a client some time ago when you were starting your bakery. All you encountered were glowing reviews about their ethical practices, a refreshing leave from the scheming ways of most investment firms that had previously taken advantage of you. It stood out as the industry leader in your research, and the team was lovely in guiding you through the process, so much so that you even invited them to your grand opening.

"Ah, you have." Nanami grinned, gently tilting your chin upward and closing your gaping mouth. "Therefore, my darling, don't feel guilty about me covering the expenses. I'm quite secure in my position to support both of us for centuries."

All you could manage was a disbelieving chuckle as you rested your forehead against his chest. Taking it as an invitation, he embraced you, crowning you with kisses.

Lifting your head, you said, "There's something I want to get for you."

"What is it?"

Hand-in-hand, you pulled him back toward the bustling district, the sound of his deep laughter echoing in the air. Your own laughter naturally joined in.

As you strolled past a vendor selling accessories, your attention was drawn to an item you had briefly noticed earlier in your walk. Although you planned to purchase it the following day and surprise him in the afternoon, tonight felt like the perfect moment.

Politely approaching the elderly vendor, you asked, "Could I please try those on?" He handed you a pair of round sunglasses with a green tint to the lenses. Standing on your toes, you carefully placed the glasses on Nanami's nose, adjusting them to sit perfectly on the bridge. The sides of the spectacles featured a stylish steampunk design that complemented his narrow, sharp features. "Handsome.”

"I'll take it.” Nanami reached for his wallet. However, you were one step ahead, swiftly bringing out the spare change you had set aside in your coat pocket. You had already calculated the price, ready to outsmart him in this little game of charity.

“Y/N.”

“Thank you,” you said to the shop vendor, ignoring Nanami’s stare.

“Y/N.”

“Yes, darling?" You looped around his arm and began your stroll down the sidewalk. “Oh, come on. Let me be selfish and treat you once in a while.” You cut off his protests with a kiss.

He surrendered instantly.

Over the next four weeks, you didn’t realize how quickly you’d become comfortable with Nanami. Like clockwork, he would arrive at your bakery, patiently occupying a table until your duties with customers or decorating displays finished. Now resembling a vibrant florist shop, the bakery owed its transformation to Nanami's thoughtful gestures—bouquets of flowers in every shade of yellow, orange, and white became an amusing routine. As you arranged them in vases, you would burst into fits of giggles like a maniac.

You and him were like a Venn diagram, overlapping in unexpected places. He enjoyed non-fiction, classics, and history books; you immersed yourself in the world of romance and mystery novels. TV nights were a compromise between his love for documentaries and your penchant for anything sappy on Netflix, occasionally spicing things up with a true-crime documentary. His fascination with astronomy met your fixation with astrology, and surprisingly, he didn't scoff when you read the lines on his palms. Instead, he appreciated it just as much as you cherished his nightly photos of the moon and his ability to name the stars above.

At least, you were both Team Cats.

Nanami introduced you to his friends, including his quirky assistant Gojo, who had a habit of shamelessly flirting with you, seemingly just to get under Nanami's skin. However, your boyfriend was secure enough not to let it bother him. Yet, a trace of possessiveness would emerge during sex—when the two of you were entwined in bed, bodies bared and bathed in the aftermath of shared sweat.

Exiting the restaurant after a delightful dinner date, Nanami turned to you and suggested, "I'd like to invite you to my home tonight."

Finally, you thought, resisting the urge to dip your toes into the topic of visiting his home, especially considering he had been a frequent guest at yours.

The fact that he lived nearby had always puzzled you; he mentioned it casually yet never extended an invitation for a simple coffee or a chat on his welcome mat. Weekends saw him working from your living room, staying overnight, but on weekdays, he'd only spend a brief hour or two with you before heading home, a practice that seemed counterintuitive given his closeness. Despite the confusion, you hesitated to jeopardize your relationship by fishing too deeply.

So far, Nanami hadn't given you any reason to doubt him.

"Are you sure?" you asked cautiously.

"Absolutely, darling.” Nanami took your hand and planted a small kiss on the back of it. "I apologize for the delay. I've been having it . . ." He casually flicked up his sunglasses that had slipped. ". . . renovated."

“Oh, I see. Well, in that case, I’d love to!”

Nanami nodded and leaned down to kiss your cheek. “Thank you for being so patient. I know it was eating you alive. You're not exactly the master of hiding your emotions.” He gave you a small smile and kissed your cheek again.

You responded with a smile that crinkled your nose. "Just a bit anxious, that's all."

"Understandable.” He guided you toward his neighbourhood, exchanging a warm smile as you nestled against his arm. Observing the goosebumps on your skin and the faint shivers, he realized you had forgotten your cardigan. Without hesitation, he removed his blazer and draped it around your shoulders, helping you slip your arms through the sleeves and buttoning it up.

You took a deep breath, inhaling the pleasant scent from the collars. "You always smell so good."

Nanami bent down, kissing the side of your neck right above your racing pulse. "As do you," he murmured against your skin. "Always."

“Gosh, you're so flirty,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his midsection and burying your face in his chest.

“Come on now.”

You walked for another ten minutes, taking a five-minute pit stop to pet a stray cat before stopping in front of a towering residence building. It was one of those extravagant ones boasting a fountain in the lobby and a vigilant security guard who greeted Nanami with a two-finger salute.

Hand on your back, Nanami guided you toward the elevator with mirrors on all sides.

He exuded an air of sophistication in his neatly rolled-up black dress shirt, complemented by beige pants. His pale, blond hair was slicked back, a Rolex clasped his wrist, and veins corded his well-defined forearms. The sunglasses you had given him rested atop his head.

As Nanami caught your eyes on the reflective surfaces, a sudden blush warmed your cheeks. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” you whispered, fingers idly playing with the golden butterfly bracelet he had given you on the night he asked you to be his girlfriend. “I was just . . . God, you’re so beautiful. Sometimes, I think I’m dreaming of you. And I don’t want to wake up from it.”

Nanami released his grip on your hand, wrapping his arm around your waist. He tilted your chin upward and planted a lecherous kiss on your lips. As you stumbled backward, your back met the cool surface of a mirror, and you clung to his biceps. He continued kissing your jaw and nibbling at your neck.

“Ken—Wait, there’s a camera!”

“I own the building.”

Without allowing you to react, he kissed you fervently, his hands framing your face and his knee pressing between your legs. Your hips ground against the muscled surface, creating a heated friction that drew a moan from him.

The elevator dinged, signaling its arrival, but Nanami was undeterred. He refused to break the kiss. Lifting you effortlessly, he cradled you with a single forearm beneath your backside and your arms encircling his neck. Laughter echoed as you entered directly into the main corridor of his penthouse.

“Your front door is an elevator?” You marveled with an open jaw.

“Yes, it seems so.”

Oh, how you loved his monotonous replies.

Nanami gently placed you onto the expansive white surface of his couch, smoothly moving over your body to continue.

“I knew you were a clean freak,” you said between his kisses, “but your penthouse looks like it was bought this morning.”

“Two weeks ago.” He kisses down your neck, sideways toward your left shoulder. “That’s why I waited to invite you. Gojo was having the place decorated. I've installed a library for you, too. We can go book-shopping this weekend.”

"Wait, what?" You pushed him back by his chest, incredulous. "Hold on, hold on, hold on. You mean to tell me you moved in just two weeks ago?"

"Yes," he answered, tilting his head slightly perplexedly. "When you asked about my residence, I panicked and couldn't come up with a proper answer, fearing you might decline my invitation for a walk. So, I bought this building from the previous owner on the spot. There are also commercial benefits. Quite a strategic move, if you ask me." With that, Nanami resumed his attention, focusing on kissing your collarbones and skillfully lowering your dress, exposing your chest to him.

But you were still stuck on the subject like a pesky fruit fly. “But you don’t live here?”

“I don’t.” His mouth brushed over the mound of your left breast. “I live in Shibuya.”

“Shibuya? Kento, that’s an hour and a half away!"

"Hmm." He glanced up, mouth sucking at your nipple.

"You've been faithfully coming to my city every single day, all the way from Shibuya, for a whole year? You've been burning all that gas just to be with me?"

He broke away to say, "Gojo drives me occasionally," and switched to your right breast.

"Nanami Kento, are you out of your mind?"

Finally, he released you and sighed. "I fail to see the issue here." He appeared so innocent, with his moist lips, tousled hair, and a crumpled dress shirt.

You hurriedly sat up, readjusting your dress, which seemed to displease him. "I'm at a loss for words." Your gaze caught the weariness etched on his face, the bags under his eyes, the slow, heavy blinks signaling his desperate need for sleep. "You haven't actually been living here, have you?"

Upon hearing that, Nanami let out a weary sigh. "I do it when I'm too drained to make the drive back on weekdays."

As the details of his schedule fell into place, you flinched inwardly. He would rise at the crack of dawn, dedicate endless hours to handling clients at the office, and then endure a lengthy drive to your city, only to spend his evenings with you before leaving around midnight to return to Shibuya. The only time he would stay overnight at your place was on Saturdays, and he would depart early on Sundays for work. And all this time, you had believed he had an office in your city.

Oh, God.

You loved him.

You loved him so much.

Tears welled up in your eyes at the realization of just how much he loved you. The man had gone so far as to purchase an entire building in your city just to be closer to you. He showered you with affection at every opportunity, devoted his alone time to you with undivided attention and mind-blowing orgasms, and his bank transactions were probably dedicated to you.

“I don’t deserve your kindness,” you whispered.

“Neither did I the night when we met.” Nanami’s words always had a comforting effect on you. He gently pulled you onto his lap, and you curled up like a fetus, planting a kiss on his cheekbone. “I’ve loved you for a very long time, Y/N. I love . . . God, I love you so much. I didn't realize I was capable of feeling this much love for another human until I met you. It was all locked up inside me, and you held the key all along, darling." Leaning forward, he smoothly swept his blazer and delved into the pocket, revealing a small yellow box. With trembling hands, you accepted it and opened it to find a petite, golden key inside. “Our front door is an elevator.”

Your breath hitched. “What?”

“Move in with me.”

“Kento—”

“I know. I know it's quite early to discuss this, and I want to give you the space and time to consider it. As you mentioned, your lease ends next month, and I'll officially be transitioning to remote work with a few business trips every other week. It would mean a lot to me if you decided to join me on those trips." He gently placed the key in your hand, kissing your fist. "I'm scheduled to travel to Malaysia next month."

Overpowered with emotion, you choked out a sob and immediately lunged at him with a hug, causing both of you to stumble backward as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He loved you. He wanted you to move in with him. He wanted to travel with you, starting with Malaysia. Suddenly, the tips he left in your jar took on a deeper significance, backing the idea that you weren't meant to journey alone, why you weren’t meant to go with that swindling bastard. As Nanami's gestures of kindness and service became increasingly evident, your tears welled up, choking him in a tight embrace that eventually had him laughing.

Last November, Nanami Kento had stepped into your small bakery, raindrops clinging to him, unknowingly marking his permanent presence in your life.

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remi-thirsts · 7 days

Text

𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐂𝐓 !

pairing: gojo, geto, nanami, choso, and toji x fem!reader (separate) summary: when you catch them with a suggestive piece of clothing from your wardrobe... content: kinda suggestive, established relationships, toji has no shame at all, allusions to sexual themes, jerking off, pillow humping(?), roommates to lovers (for geto's) pet names, cursing. lmk if I missed anything. wc: 2.5k

♡ 𝐒. 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

The house was awfully quiet when you arrived home with your shopping bags in hand. "Satoru?" You call out setting all of your stuff down. Nothing. No over dramatic gasps, no 'babyyyyyy you're back!!!!!!" Absolutely nothing.

Satoru hadn't told you he was going anywhere, had he? Sometimes the man talks so much that you drown out his voice, so you can focus on whatever you need to get done. Which means you could have missed something.

Or maybe he's asleep? Only, Satoru doesn't nap if it isn't with you. So... where could he be?

Before going deeper into your home, you remove your shoes and place them neatly on the wobbly shoe rack he built. He insisted he could build anything, when he'd never even picked up a screwdriver in his life. That's kind of what happens when you belong to a wealthy family, but you didn't want to hurt his pride, so you let him build it.

You tread quietly toward your bedroom in hopes of finding him there. The door is cracked open suspiciously, with caution you slowly push the door open, "Satoru are you- uhhh what are you doing?"

The man in question tenses up when he hears your voice. As if you hadn't seen him he hides your lace panties behind his back.

"I was uh," He does that little coughing thing to make him look less suspicious, but if anything it makes him even more suspicious .

"You were 'uh' what?" Satoru thinks you look like a mother scolding a child the way you stand with your hands on your hips.

"I- I was hah- are you really gonna make me say it, baby?" He looks so red, cute.

"Yeah, go ahead and tell me what you were doing snooping through my underwear drawer." He sighs, but it's soon replaced with a sneaky smile.

"Ineedednewjerkmaterial." He says all jumbled up and quietly.

"Speak up, 'Toru." A whine leaves his lips. What a little baby he is.

"I needed something to help me when I think about you while jerking off." He spoke clearly this time, so you stop teasing him.

"Well you can't use those ones, 'cuz those are my favorites. Let me find you a different pair." He's in shock the whole time while watching you dig through the dresser.

"Really? You're just gonna give me a pair?"

"Why not? All you had to do was ask. I'm sure you'll buy me more anyway, knowing you." He snorts at that. It's true, Satoru likes to buy you anything and everything, sexy underwear is no exception.

♡ 𝐒. 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎

You've noticed that some of your favorite bras have gone missing since you asked your roommate, Geto, to do your laundry when you get too busy. It was a little suspicious when he seemed more than happy to do your laundry, but who were you to think anything of it when he was making one less chore for you?

Sweet, little, and innocent you, didn't suspect that Geto could be the one stealing your bras, though. He's too much of a gentleman, you think. He always opens doors for you, lets you use the bathroom before he does, and when you aren't up to make something, he'll cook you dinner.

He's a picture perfect roommate so there's no way he could be the one. You'll still ask him his opinion on the matter though, because your bras are not cheap, and if they keep going missing you'll have to buy more.

It's Wednesday, which is the day Geto usually washes your laundry for you. There is a very important job interview you have to leave for in ten minutes so you rush to get your hamper to him.

"Suguru- I um I need your help with something." Geto cannot help but stare you down. You're dressed in a black blazer with a white dress shirt underneath, and a pencil skirt that should reach around to your knees, but because you had bend down earlier to pick something up, the skirt hiked up just a little bit.

"What's up, princess?" The first time he had called you 'princess' you just about had a meltdown. He told you not to think too much of it, it was just a nickname.

The smell of his lotion fills your nostrils and his hair is still wet from his shower. There's also no shirt covering his perfectly built body.

"Well.. uh. Some of my bras are going missing. Can you keep an eye out to make sure there's no pervert at the laundromat stealing my bras?" A chuckle almost leaves his throat. You are too cute for him, of course you wouldn't blame him for the disappearance of your bras.

"Of course, I'll keep watch." Since you are running short on time you give him a tight lipped smile and quickly make a run out of your apartment.

"Cute." Slips from his lips, although no one hears it.

-------

There's hope. The interview had seemed to go great, the woman interviewing you said she'd give you a call letting you know if you got the job or not.

To celebrate the potential job, you bought yourself a pint of ice cream on the way home.

When you unlocked the door you didn't even announce yourself, assuming he might have been out or napping.

Before going to your room, you grab a spoon from the kitchen in order to eat the deliciously sweet treat you bought for yourself.

Your room was at the end of the hallway so you would have to pass Geto's room to get to yours. As you walk past his room, you almost drop your spoon in shock when you hear your supposed goody two shoes roommate moan out your name.

A series of grunts and 'fucks' leave his lips after the sudden call of your name. Curiosity killed the cat, huh? Well you don't care enough to let that stop you. It's rude not to knock but when Geto's calling out your name like that you think you have plenty of reason to barge in.

"Suguru what are you-" You should have just went to your room. The sight you walked in on had you dropping your ice cream and spoon on the floor. Geto is not as innocent as you thought he was, not when he's got your favorite laced bra attached to his pillow while he fucks it like they're your tits.

You would think he'd have the decency to stop when you caught him, but you catching him only made him speed up, his hips snapping at an extraordinary pace.

"Fuck, princess. Didn't want you to find out like this. Shit- need your tits so bad." He cums with no shame over the part of the pillow that would be the crevice of your breasts.

You can't even be mad at him, it's hot, but you'll still give him a peace of your mind.

"Suguru! That's- that's my bra! And you- gosh you are so perverted!!!! I never would have thought-" It takes him a minute, but when he comes down from his high, he apologizes sincerely for taking your bras.

And now that you know he wants you just as much as you want him, you indulge in his fantasies of fucking your pretty tits.

♡ 𝐊. 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

He was going on a business trip for a few weeks and took a pair or two with him so he wouldn't have to bother you.

It doesn't even register that any are missing either, because he picks the pairs that you don't care too much about. They don't have to be sexy, Nanami loves anything you wear.

The only reason he does get caught is because he allows it to happen.

It's the second week, day two of his business trip and he decided to have a drink with his coworker, which he never does, but he misses you and a drink would help, even if only for a little while.

Nanami's toleration is high, so one drink turns into seven and he starts to feel the effects around the 8th one, which his coworker cuts him off after that.

"Dude, that's a lot, even for you." He says to Nanami, which he has to agree with, but his drunk mind doesn't want to.

"'s not nearly the 'mount I drink when 'm at home." His coworker chuckles and pays his tab along with Nanami's. (nanami will pay him back in the morning when he's in his right mind)

Said coworker drops him off at his hotel room and makes sure he gets in okay, he also reminds him to, "Call your wife, she might get worried if she doesn't hear from you."

He will. He'll call you as soon as this boner goes away... just thinking about you along with the alcohol in his body has him hard.

He stumbles through his suit case looking for the panties he'd packed in there. A smile graces his face when he finds them, they aren't cute, at all by any means.

He chose them not because they're sexy but because they're just normal, meaning you wear them a lot more often.

His steps are heavy as he about marches to the bed he's been sleeping in for the past two weeks. His conscious starts screaming at him not to jerk off with your panties but in the end, his dick wins.

-------

It's about 11:43 pm when you receive a face time call from your husband. He called you earlier, telling you about his day, so you find it a little unusual for him to be calling at this hour.

When you slide the accept button, you're met with your husband's dick and your panties covering his tip. For a second your eyes widen trying to register what exactly is going on, once you do, arousal pools in your gut.

"What's this honey?" He strokes his dick faster when he hears your voice.

"Keep talking, pretty." He's completely gone, you notice. His cheeks flushed a pretty pink and his eyes rolled back.

"I see you have my panties, what's that about?" A low groan leaves his throat but it's cut off by his words.

"Knew I would miss you. Packed them in my suitcase." The chances of him remembering any of this in the morning was low. Nanami usually has a hard time remembering anything from when he was drunk.

So, being the tease you are, you take a screenshot of him in this state.

"Fuck fuck fuck, gonna cum, please keep talking, Honey." You do as he wishes, saying random little things to help him reach his orgasm. It happens so fast and he's got you rubbing yourself through your shorts.

"You still with me baby?" You ask after he goes quiet for a few seconds. It doesn't take a genius to realize that he was knocked out.

You

[image attached] pervert 😊 sent 11:58 pm

My love 💖

I'm not going to drink anymore on this trip. sent 7:39 am

You

You should, it's hot when I get phone calls from my needy husband 😝 sent 7:40 am

♡ 𝐂. 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎

He can't hide it. In fact, he gets caught before he even makes it anywhere with them.

Last night was another night shift so you got home at the dawn hours of the night. A shower and a hot pocket later you were in bed. You made the assumption that Choso had gone out to see his brother, since you didn't see him anywhere in the apartment.

The sound of rustling around awakes you from your sleep.

"Cho? Is that you, baby?" It didn't sound concerned or anything, just a sleepy mumble.

"Oh uh- yes. Hi, good morning." His words are rushed like a kid who's trying not to get into trouble for something they did.

Your pretty eyes peek open to see Choso digging through your drawer for something.

"What are you looking for, babe?" He starts to stutter and try to come up with something you'll believe.

"You were picking out a shirt for me in my bra drawer?" His cheeks turn a bright red as he tries to explain himself.

"It's not what you think-! Okay it is what you think... but I haven't been seeing you much, since you always work late so I wanted to take one of your bras..." He's so cute. Gosh how could you not give him one.

"Okay, pick one out and I'll tell you if you can take it or not. You have to bring it back later though, it's not for you to keep.

He shakes his head furiously fast like a bobble head, and you can't help but laugh.

Choso is the most adorable thing to walk this earth.

♡ 𝐓. 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

He doesn't even try to hide it, AT ALL. Today was the day of your once a week girls night with your friends. It was usually just some karaoke and dinner and on the occasion; shopping.

Instead of the usual your girls had taken you partying at a club. It was fun to dance around with your friends and scream song lyrics while being slightly intoxicated. Luckily, you aren't the designated driver.

When you had clumsily slipped your shoes off in your drunken stupor you realized that it was quiet in the house.

Too quiet, even for your husband. Toji's definitely up to something, because he'd usually be waiting on the couch for you to return home, and he's not.

"Oh baby~" It's slurred tremendously but you still get it out. Silence returns your call, so you take it upon yourself to find him.

The first and most obvious place to look is the bedroom; you'll start there and keep going. The door was closed but you could still hear him. Upon contrary belief Toji is loud during sex. He probably couldn't shut up to save his life.

His loud groans and moans start to cut off meaning he must be close. Is he watching a video he's recorded of you? Potentially.

Most would probably leave their boyfriend alone to finish so he doesn't get embarrassed, but this Toji Fushiguro we are talking about; he does not care.

You slowly pull the door open only to find out that your husband is not in fact watching a video, but getting off to your panties around his dick.

"Tojiiii, without me?" It doesn't even click that he's using your underwear at the moment.

"Fuck- I thought you weren't gonna be back until-" You must have shocked the shit out of him, because he stops touching himself to check his phone.

"Oh. You're home on time." He throws his phone down onto the bed and sighs.

"Waita' minute," It finally registers that those are your panties he's jerking off too.

"Toji, why do you have my panties? Pervert." And to nobody's surprise, Toji gets off to that kind of stuff. He likes when you call him out.

"Hah- shit. Don't ask such stupid questions... are you gonna come over here and help me finish?" A little smirk covers your face as you walk over to the bed.

note: lmaoooo geto's got a little bit out of control

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