#nanami baker au

[rmorde]

Nanami saved the bakery girl like in canon but before he could leave, the owner of the shop comes out from the kitchen. In any other situation, this would have change nothing but the owner can actually see curses!

The poor owner is almost at his wit's end because he can see monsters invading his business but was helpless at getting rid of them.

He was tempted to have his bakery exorcised before but the monk recommended to him by a friend made the hairs at the back of his neck stand on its end It was Geto.

So, the owner tried to resort to various remedies from salt to charms. They were effective at first but were steadily losing potency over time. He doesn't know what to do. But then this customer came in and destroyed the monster like nothing! He was not about to let the man go.

That's how Nanami found himself employed in the bakery. It was a surreal experience. His original plan was to call Gojo so he could return as a sorcerer but the owner, a passable Window at best, begged him to stay and work for their shop.

Apparently the location has some ill luck. It is a natural hub for curses.

Nanami decided maybe he could hit two birds with one stone here. Sorcery work is tolerable shit but bakery work is heavenly. Maybe the latter could tip the scale of the former into much more palatable shit. His conscience would remain clean and he could indulge in his secret baking hobby courtesy of his grandmother that always fed him freshly baked goods whenever she sees him.

All was well. The hours were grueling between baking and exorcising curses but Nanami made do. In fact, he may even honestly say that he was enjoying himself.

Then horror upon horrors, into the bakery comes in a familiar face with two unfamiliar children tow.

"NANAMIN~!"

#nanami kento #exorcist baker au #the goal of the story is simply to turn the bakery as an emergency sanctuary/hideout/hq for sorcerers #like a weird jjk version of john wick's the continental #gojo is totally going to bankroll the shit out of that bakery much to nanami's exasperation #gojo would also be the bakery's Number 1 patron and eventual mascot

[tonycries]

Men In Uniform F*ck Better!

Synopsis. You want him and you want him now. It doesn’t matter if you have to fúck him in his uniform - in fact, it just might make it better.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] professor! Gojo x Reader, yakuza boss! Sukuna x Reader, calligrapher! Geto x Reader, baker! Nanami x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, no curses! AU, oral (male + female receiving), men at work, manhandling, marking, slight gúnplay, degradation, smacking, choking, Sukuna is mean but he’s a yakuza boss so, spitting, semi-public, brat-taming, bunch of heinous stuff idek, cúmplay, slight foodplay, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.6k

A/N. Was gonna add Choso and Toji but this got too long, dw I’ll make separate ones about them later <3 

♡ NANAMI KENTO - The baker

Watching Nanami Kento at work could make even the most ardent non-believers worship God. 

Kneading. Spreading. Every motion of his strong hands deliberate and purposeful. Muscles rippling in his forearms with each movement. 

You watch - almost hypnotized - as the devilishly handsome baker at your favorite bakery prepares his dough for tomorrow. By God were you glad you managed to bat your lashes just enough to convince him to let you stay after closing - for educational purposes, of course. 

Your thighs squeeze together involuntarily as long fingers sink deep into the dough, squeezing. Pulling. Teasing. A delicate bead of sweat trickling down between his furrowed brows and disappearing enticingly between those chiseled collarbones. Oh, how you wished it was you under his hands instead.

“How long’s it gonna take? I see the way you’re watching me, y’know.” 

A low rumble breaks the silence, sending tremors down your spine - all the way to your already-heated cunt. Eyes snapping up to meet Nanami’s darkened ones, your face burns at being caught red-handed. Stammering out excuses, “W-wha- I didn’t-”

Soft dough now forgotten, he steps closer, presence overwhelming, dominating the space around you. “Always do. Watching me with such slutty eyes.” Low words that make your pussy throb. You’re dumbfounded by his eyes, intense and stripping - making you feel so exposed and vulnerable before him. 

In the dimly lit kitchen, the tension is palpable. You can’t help but lean into his presence, standing toe-to-toe with his muscled front. 

With a slight smirk curling his lips, Nanami leans in, his breath warm against your ear and making you shudder in anticipation. “But don’t worry, darling. I like it.” 

They’re the last words said before he pulls you into a searing kiss, a hand tight around your neck, neat fingernails digging into your skin, pulling you impossibly closer to him as his tongue demands entry, intertwining with yours. It’s possessive, it’s feral - and tastes oh so very sweet - just like his delicate pastries. 

Nanami breathes you in like a man starved. A desperation that carries into your frantic fingers untying that godforsaken apron. 

And in his steady hands as they lift you up as if you weigh nothing, fingers groping and kneading your ass as he seats you on the kitchen counter. The surface cold under where your skirt was messily bunched up. “Mm- hngh- please, Nanami.”

Pulling away with a final bite to your lower lip, he leaves a trail of wet, sloppy kisses down your body that send chills racing through you, and have your thighs rubbing together for an ounce of friction. 

“Tch” Of course, he wasn’t a fan. Grip bruising, manhandling your legs open so shamefully, he splays you out deliciously for him. Nanami’s greedy gaze devours the sinful way your dripping cunt leaks through your thin panties - ones you wore especially for him.

Seems he knew too, pushing his glasses up contemplatively before dropping onto his knees with a fucked out oh. “Always knew you were naughty, darling, but to be such a slut? Driving me crazy, hm?” his voice thick with desire and whispered mere millimeters away from your swollen folds.

Moaning softly, you arch your back into the warm breath hitting your quivering cunt, whining out an embarrassed “Noo- only for you, Nanami.”

“Oh yeah?” Huffing out a dark chuckle, he all but rips off your soaked panties. The tattered fabric stark against the sterile floor. You gasp at the cold air that hits your heated cunt - but not for long, because Nanami’s hot mouth is on it like a man dying of thirst. 

Nose-deep in your pussy, the cold metal of his glasses makes you flinch in sensitivity. His hands spread your cunt bruisingly, letting his tongue bully it’s way past your folds, urgently lapping at your juices as if you were the sweetest damn thing he’s ever tasted. 

Chin hitting your cunt, nose rubbing against your pulsing clit, he makes out with your sloppy pussy in methodical, merciless movements of his tongue that have you keening and bucking your hips for more more more. 

Looking up at you over his glasses, his hungry gaze devours your half-lidded eyes, the grip searing on his hair, and the whimpers of his name leaving your swollen lips just as greedily as the mouth on your slutty cunt.

“Wanted this right, darling?” he murmurs, lips hot against your own. Vibrations making slick bead out of your cunt and pool onto his waiting lips. “Wanted to break under my hands?”

“Yes. Yes, yes yes, s’all I’ve wanted.” teary whimpers leave your bruised lips, you craved the sting of his hands, the burn of his fingers. Your hips buck uncontrollably, grinding yourself against his mouth as he sucks your clit into his mouth. 

Hands now groping every inch of skin he could find, leaving pretty purple marks that remind you of his mouth-watering pies.

Exploring every curve and valley, bending you to his will, languid where his tongue was merciless. Savoring you. Groping your breasts, squeezing your ass, as if he wanted everything all at once.

Your entire body was sore now. Cunt throbbing in sympathy with the tender flesh. Marks littering your skin as if you’d been thrown to the wolves. Ah, all these weeks you’d been right - heaven really was in Nanami Kento’s hands. And right now you were putty in them. 

He grasped your thighs, squeezing them roughly and lifting them higher, opening you wider for his unforgiving pace. Clearly enjoying the way your face contorted in pain and pleasure, Kento slipped a finger inside you. One. Then two. Stretching you to your limits. Spreading open your already-stretched entrance further. 

His fingers frantic now, fucked-out, jerky movements. Wilder. Animalistic. Driving you closer and closer to the edge. 

“Open your mouth.” 

You listen - drunk on his tongue as yours lolls out so lewdly. The taste hits you before the realization - sweet sugar and the taste of you on your tongue as two thick fingers are shoved into your mouth. They reach the back of your throat, pressing hard onto your tongue. You force yourself to fight off the gagging as some animalistic part of you sucks desperately on them for the sweet, sweet taste. 

“Almost as sweet as you.” Nanami groans, words muffled into your cunt and sending white-hot pleasure racing up your spine. Words hanging in the air, he speeds up the movements of his mouth, frantic movements matching your need for more. 

Your climax hits you with a jolt, cumming till you see stars behind your eyes. Maybe it was his words, maybe it was the way his tongue quirked just right on your throbbing clit to make you throw your head back as you fell apart underneath him. 

“Hngh- Oh fuck, Nanami. M’cum- cumming!” you whine, grinding your cunt down impossibly harder on his pretty face. Fingers tangled in his silky blond locks as you force him deeper, riding out your high greedily.

You’re still dazed - vision blurry as Nanami pulls away from your cunt with a lewd squelch! getting up from his position kneeling on the floor. “So delicious on m’tongue, darling.”

Devastatingly handsome face flushed, breaths ragged, muscled front now pressing against your sinfully spread legs. And in your orgasm-hazed mind you still manage to hear the arousing clink of a belt unbuckling, and the metallic screech against marble of the nearby bowl of your favorite frosting being pulled closer. White - to match the precum dribbling down his leaking cock.

The distinct feeling of something wet and achingly hard against your needy cunt.

Oh. Ah, it really was a sweet, sweet life.

♡ GETO SUGURU - The calligrapher

You didn’t exactly think the live calligraphy show your friend dragged you to was about to have you on the edge of your seat.

But here you were. 

Eyes locked on the way the tall figure onstage, clad in a dark yukata - sinfully slipping off to reveal a milky, toned shoulder. Geto Suguru exudes an air of raw sexuality that the entire audience was aware of, eyes not being able to decide between the masterpiece on the canvas or the masterpiece of a man on stage.

His fingers, long and agile, effortlessly over the bamboo pen. Each stroke a sensual caress, dark eyes pools of desire that match his long, flowing locks, and the inky characters on the page. 

Chest heaving with passion, with a final, dramatic sweep of his arm, Geto completes the last stroke. And as the audience erupts into applause, you merely stay rooted to your seat, thighs pressing together and breath caught in your throat - only one thought ringing in your mind.

You just had to have him.

Which is why you found yourself following your friend to the chaotic atmosphere backstage. But despite the buzz of activity, you could still hear Geto’s deep, velvety voice carrying through the crowd.

Pushing through the sea of people, “Ah! Long time no see, Geto-san. This is my friend, she really enjoyed your performance tonight,” your friend introduced, gesturing towards you.

Eyes gleaming he turns to you, “Oh, is that so?”

“Yeah, I enjoyed it very much.” you grin, batting your lashes. Relishing in the way Geto’s dark eyes appraise you from head to toe. Taking in every inch of you - and you do the same.

Geto’s eyes harden, as if deciding on something. “I’m flattered. Why don’t you two lovely ladies join me for some drinks with the crew?”

Yeah, you had to have him - you just didn’t think that would be so easy. 

Walls lined with paintings, the scent of ink and sin hung heavy in the air, as you two snuck away from the animated group downing celebratory shots. Geto’s hand hot in yours as he leads you down a dimly-lit corridor to “his favorite lil’ spot”, as he’d whispered to you. 

You could tell you were getting closer - because Geto promptly pulls you closer, hands grasping your waist possessively. 

“No turning back now, pretty girl.” he whispers, breath hot against your ear. 

“S’all I want, Suguru.” you mutter, desire coursing through you like a wildfire, pooling into something sticky and hot at your cunt. 

Perhaps seeing the pure, feral need in your eyes, Suguru murmurs, leaving no room for disagreement now, “Follow me.”

The room he led you to was heady with seductive candles, beautiful artwork lining the walls. His own - you assume, as Suguru leads you to a low wooden table in the center of the room. On it is a bottle of sake and two cups.

Movements fluid and precise, Suguru pours the sake, filling it to the brim. He hands it to you, eyes never leaving your face. “Drink up, pretty girl.” he hums, low and seductive. And honestly fuck stranger danger, how could you not when he looks at you like that?

So you drink, sake burning its way down your throat. Predatory eyes locked on you as you set down the cup, Suguru’s mouth quirks up into a sly grin around his as he asks, “Liked it?”

You’ve barely gotten out the nod - not trusting yourself to speak - before Suguru downs his shot abruptly, slamming down the cup with a thunk! 

Lips parting slightly, slender fingers squish your cheeks together into an almost-embarrasing pout. Forcing you to look up at him with an almost predatory grace as he looms closer. You don’t know if you should’ve expected the steady, warm stream of sake and saliva that hits your tongue. Sliding so obscenely down your throat. 

Guess Suguru Geto was filthy in bed where he was the embodiment of grace in public. 

It’s sweet on your tongue - both the sake and Suguru.

Eyes glassy, a mixture of sake and drool dribbling down the corner of your mouth - Suguru really can’t help the lips that come crashing down on yours, tongue plunging deep into your mouth. His tongue was relentless, keeping yours intertwined in a heady kiss. 

Arms wrapping around your waist to pull you impossibly closer to his heated body. Hands tugging on your hair, mapping your curves. All the way up to cup your breasts, thumbs running tight, little circles around your perked nipples.

You moan into the heated kiss as something rock-hard pokes your thigh. Hand greedily grabbing at his yukata with the need for more. 

Breaking the kiss, Suguru’s breaths come in ragged gasps. “On your knees, pretty girl.” 

And what Geto Suguru wants, Geto Suguru gets. 

Which is why you were sat, eyes hungry and greedily watching the way Suguru slowly, and deliberately peels open the front of his yukata, exposing his toned torso. A sly grin curling his lips at you gape at his leaking cock, standing proud and achingly hard. Thick and unforgiving. 

Fuck, could you really take him in your mouth? He was at least twice as big as anyone else you’ve been with before…

“Open.” he orders, voice low and commanding and making your cunt clench so deliciously in anticipation. Suguru’s flushed tip pokes your lips - glossy with sake and saliva - precum salty on your tongue. God, he was huge. Parting your mouth wider, lips stretching around his length you desperately try to fuck him into your mouth - eager to please.

But it just wasn’t enough.

Because Suguru has a searing grip on your hair, holding your head steady as he pushed his cock all the way down your throat. Delicate veins throbbing against the roof of your mouth as he starts up a steady, merciless pace fucking your mouth as if you were nothing but a fucktoy. 

“C’mon now, you said s’all you want. Better act like it, pretty girl.” he chuckles darkly, pushing you impossibly further down so that your nose presses into the tufts of thick, black hair at his pelvis. Like delicate strokes of a fine art. Breathing in the heady, masculine scent so sinfully.

This man is a masterpiece, you think deliriously - completely cock-drunk as you gag around his length, eyes burning at the way his fat tip hits your abused throat. Over and over. A ceaseless cadence you were losing your mind to. 

“Oh, fuck. Yeah, jus’ like that.” he hisses, as you tongue at his slit. Fingers deftly pressing around your neck to feel his dick ramming down your throat. 

The once-serene room rings with your pathetic, wet gurgles around Suguru’s cock and the smacking of skin on skin as his heavy balls hit your chin. “Take it, take it all.”

You moan, body arching as you claw at his toned hips for some semblance of stability. Nails digging neat lines down his milky skin. Balls tightening, he thrusts animalistically into your mouth, each one deeper and harder than the last, cock sliding in and out of you brutally. 

Messy.

Saliva and precum drip down his length, dirtying his yukata. Tears streak down your cheeks onto Suguru’s wrist, fingers tightening ferally around your throat. Blood roaring in your ears, choking at both the throbbing cock and the hand blocking your airway.

 It was so fucking messy.

So it only made sense that Suguru’s orgasm was the same. 

With a guttural cry of your name, Suguru came in hot spurts of cum, shooting rope after rope down your ready throat as his cock pulsed and stuttered in your mouth. You felt so dirty, his seed pooling on your tongue. 

But he wasn’t done - no, far from it - pulling out from your abused mouth with a lewd pop! Twitching cock heavy on your face as he paints your face white. Hips bucking deliriously, a smug smirk playing on his lips at his masterpiece.

Face and mouth covered in his cum, fucked out enough that you basically had heart eyes looking at Suguru, you ready yourself to swallow it all. Needing to taste Suguru immediately.

Ah, but one can’t get everything they want.

Because Suguru drops to his knees, hand still tight around your throat as he captures your lips with his. Teeth clashing, lips bruising, forcing his tongue down your throat. Tasting himself. Tasting you. It was absolutely animalistic. 

A barely-lucid, disappointed whine leaves your swollen lips as he pulls away. Only to spit once. Twice. Three times on your face.

You flinch as wads of saliva and his cum hit your face, warm and dripping down your cheeks. Staining the pristine tatami mats below as they fall with a resounding tap! tap! tap!

And you gladly offer yourself up for the abuse. A fucked out smile spreading across your face as you take in the feeling of being so debauched by Suguru. Somewhat-delirious, you barely register the dark mutter against your ear, “Hope you’re not tapping out yet, pretty girl. I haven’t even gotten out my paintbrushes yet.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - The yakuza boss

“Strip.”

Standing in the dimly lit room, red-hot irritation flashes behind your eyes as you bristle at the words falling out of his mouth - devastatingly handsome had it not been for that smug, leering smirk. 

Eyes half-lidded, long legs spread on that gaudy armchair, smoke falling from Sukuna’s lips as he stares at you intently. Eyes piercing through yours over his cigar. Demanding compliance. 

Your heart pounds in your chest as you rip your gaze from his, flitting panickedly between the imposing yakuza boss in front of you - all alluring tattoos, and heavy, gold rings - and the glinting pistol that lay silently on one, muscular thigh.

You can feel the heat of his gaze burning into your skin as your hands tremble, fumbling with those tedious buttons. Breathing heavy, nipples hardening - your top hits the floor. God, what the fuck have you gotten yourself into. 

Cursing your father’s debt, you move on to your pants. Desperately trying to avoid catching a glimpse of those blown-out pupils, something prickly and hot pooling in your stomach. Shit. You won’t start liking this - you refuse to start liking this. 

One by one, it falls away. Leaving you bare and completely exposed under Sukuna’s intense scrutiny. A low growl escapes his lips at the way your thighs clench together so sinfully, the sound sending shivers down your spine. 

“Come here, doll.” Low, raspy words that go straight to your cunt. But you steel yourself, heels clacking against the polished floor as you step closer. And closer. Watching the way he drinks in your naked form. 

But apparently too slow.

Before you can even react, a muscled arm reaches out, pulling you to fall into his waiting lap, straddling those toned hips. A jolt of electricity going through your body as you register the cold metal of the gun digging into your leg. 

Sukuna leans forward, the scent of tobacco and sin overwhelming your senses. “Dance f’me.”

Shit. How dare he talk to you this way - and how dare you let your pussy clench in anticipation at his demeaning tone.

Biting back a groan at the way your hardened nipples brush against his button-up, you tentatively roll your hips forward. A thrill going straight to your pussy as something long and thick presses against you. Involuntarily, you press closer, grinding against him. Hard.

Large, calloused hands find your ass. Squeezing roughly to pull you closer, rocking your hips back and forth on his throbbing erection. Back and forth back and forth back and-

Cool metal pressed against your skin - the barrel of his glinting gun pressed lightly against your forehead. Goosebumps erupt down your spine, painfully prickling at your skin as you realize just what the fuck he was doing. “As much as I love you humping me like a bitch in heat, doll. I asked you to dance f’me.” he murmurs, tone was positively dripping with something dark and dangerous.

Well, you think, gritting your teeth in determination. Might as well give the bastard what he asks for. 

Staring defiantly right into those darkened, intense eyes, you begin moving your body agonizingly slow. Hands tantalizingly tracing the outline of your body. Teasingly caressing the skin, sliding your fingers along your collarbone, down your rib cage, grazing your navel before slithering lower. Lower. 

Your soaked cunt forming a wet patch right on his straining erection. 

Sukuna’s eyes follow your every move - every circle of your hips down on his throbbing bulge. The corner of his mouth curving into a satisfied smile as he takes in the sight of you so sinful and shamefully exposed for him. 

The desire simmering beneath his composed exterior is basically palpable. 

And then, it snaps.

Suddenly, his arm snaps up, grabbing bruisingly at your waist. With a slow, deliberate motion, he takes a long drag of his cigar - blowing the smoke right in your face, the warm breath mingling with the heady air. 

Your surprised gasp is swallowed by his heated kiss, tongues wrestling as a hand digs into the tender skin of your neck. As if he owns you. 

Hips bucking wildly, and more frantically on Sukuna’s clothed cock - the expensive fabric of his pants now wet with your slick and his precum. You lose yourself in the moment.

But what you do register is the sharp unzipping of his pants. 

Snapping your eyes open, they meet with the large, leaking cock now pulsing in his hands, prominent veins glistening with precum that dribbles down his flushed head. Pulling away, you rip your gaze from his throbbing erection to look in his eyes - with what, fear? Anticipation? Both?

Sukuna lounges back on his armchair leisurely, relishing the way you watch - somewhat-awestruck - as his large hand begins moving in small, unhurried motions up and down his rock-hard length.

A harsh push of the barrel against your forehead snaps you out of your debauched reverie. “Didn’t tell ya to stop, did I, doll?” he hisses out, venomous and needy. 

The tension in the room is almost tangible, the air thick with lust and fear. As you watch the rhythmic jerks of Sukuna’s hand on his erect cock - up and down up and down up and- your body betrays you. 

Mind hazy with arousal, you place your hands on his shoulders, cunt clenching at the strong, defined muscle beneath your fingertips. You lean forward, lips meeting his in a desperate, desperate kiss. 

Pulling away, you reach for his heavy cock, wrapping your fingers around it, feeling it’s thickness and the heat. Sukuna lets out a low growl, eyes closing momentarily as you begin to stroke him in urgent, desperate tugs that have his hips bucking involuntarily.  

As you let him fuck your fist like his own personal fleshlight, you grind down against his thigh. Hard. His tight, twitching ball stimulating your clit just right as you get yourself off on Sukuna like a bitch in heat. 

Maybe it was the pure feral need in your hazy eyes - or maybe it was the way you lean your head into the gun pressing against your forehead - but Sukuna’s eyes widen, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. Only growing more amused by the second as you lean impossibly closer to take the cigar from his hand, placing it between your lips. 

Drawing deeply, inhaling the sweet, rich flavor of the tobacco. As you exhale, you deliberately blow the smoke into his face, the tendrils of vapor swirling around his beautiful features, mixing with the sweat and the scent of his cologne.

A deep bark of laughter makes Sukuna throw his head back - and you to clench around nothing on his lap. Hips becoming more and more animalistic against his. Your wrist now aching and wet with precum, becoming so, so sloppy trying to get both yourselves off. 

Sukuna wraps his arm around you, pulling you close, his hand cupping your breast possessively. The other surges back with the gun on your forehead - where it had been faltering from pleasure before. “Make us come within the next five seconds before I blow your head off, doll.”

One.

Your fingers tighten around his cock, milking him. Movements from both ends become more and more filthy with the need to release.

Two.

You cup his heavy balls in your hands, clit catching on his zipper and making you mewl at the stimulation.

Three.

A thumb pressing down between his balls, hard. Hips stuttering with your impending release, losing your mind with each stroke.

Four.

Sukuna body goes rigid, choking on what sounds like your name, bottom lip catching between his teeth as he throws his head back and-

Five.

Cums all over your fist, thick, hot spurts of seed that paint your hands white. Splattering on your palm, and onto the chair below. You not too far behind as your body bows into his, stars behind your eyes as you chase peak after peak grinding down on his lap. You shudder, release taking everything out of you until it’s nothing more than mere tingles. 

A finger on the trigger. Pulling. 

Click! 

As Sukuna’s maniacal laughter rings in the heady room, you blink away the haze of your orgasm as you realizing with a jolt that there were no fucking bullets. 

Yet this bastard shot you anyway.

Skin heated against yours, lips ghosting your ear as Sukuna whispers. Low and gravelly. 

“I don’t need a gun to kill, doll.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - The professor

“You see, I really, really need this A to pass, sir.” you bat your lashes innocently, slightly whiny yet not desperate - at least, not yet. 

Short skirt hiking up as you lean over the desk in Professor Gojo’s stuffy office. Making sure that tight top you purposefully wore lets those striking blue eyes see a perfect view of your breasts - no bra today, of course. 

Eyes flickering down. Once. Twice. 

Success. 

Yet, Professor Gojo’s easy grin stays steadfast, “Well, maybe you should have studied harder then, hm?” You’d almost be fooled by his little act, yet your eyes catch the way he subtly crosses his legs, something stirring in those alluring cerulean eyes as he looks up at you through his lashes.

Deciding to play along, huffing as you cross your arms across your chest, “I did, maybe you should just let me take on an assignment for extra credit.”

His eyes widened slightly, his eyebrows raising in question, “What kind of assignment?”

You bite your lips coyly, holding back a smirk at the way he makes it so easy for you. Reaching out immediately to trace a thumb across his full lips, leaning down far enough that your tits were basically spilling out of your top now. 

“The one where you fuck me, right here. Right now, on this desk.”

You could feel his pulse quickening against your hand, voice strained with need. “I should fail you right now for this.”

Brushing your lips against his earlobe, you whisper, “But you won’t, sir.”

Before you can react, in one, fluid motion strong arms lift you off the desk to splay you out so sinfully on it. You almost get whiplash from his pure strength, brought back only by the feeling of his muscular thighs warm against your ass. 

“If you want that A, then prove how badly you need it.” 

Your heart races as you nod, cheeks flaring with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. With a feral grin, you spread your legs apart, toying with that soaked g-string - exposing your bare pussy. Beads of slick pooling underneath you on the desk as the way Gojo’s eyes harden as you clench around nothing. 

You trail your hands enticingly down, down down. A delicate finger swiping at your folds, collecting your juices - popping right into your mouth. A smug huff of laughter leaves you at the way Gojo’s mouth drops into a surprised oh!

“You’re such a lil’ fucking minx, princess.”

You needed him now. 

Rubbing your thumb over your swollen clit, index finger bullying its way into your snug cunt the way you wanted Gojo to. You gasp, arching your back as waves of pleasure, “Oh, sir! Mmm- feel s’good inside me. Want more- hah-”

Pornographic whines of pleasure send blood rushing straight to Gojo’s cock. He was losing his mind at your little show. He was going insane.

“Your turn now.” you mewl, 

Your hungry gaze was locked with Gojo’s as he stands, removing his belt and unbuckling his pants. Your eyes follow the movement greedily, mouth watering at the impressive size of his erection. Leaking tip furiously flushed your favorite shade of pretty pink. Delicate beads of precum smearing on the frantic, jerky movements of his fist up and down and up and down and-

It’s a silent staredown. Your fingers matching the delicious rhythm of his fist, urgently fucking yourselves to each other. Trying to see who would break first. Up and down up and down - in and out in and out. Faster. 

“Didn’t think you were all talk, sir.”

That’s what makes the great Gojo Satoru break. Surging forward in hasty steps, your hands pinned to the cold surface of the desk, pussy now quivering in loneliness. 

Smack!

“Count to five, then I’ll give what you want. If you can’t even do that then I don’t think you deserve an A, princess.”

“O-one.” You whine at the harsh hand that smacks your ass, large handprint stinging into your searing skin. 

“This the hand?” Gojo whispers, voice ragged. Inspecting your hands before his tongue sticks out to lick a long, languid stripe up your fingers, pooling your juices on his tongue. Pretty blue eyes rolling to the back of his head as he licks your fingers clean so filthily. 

Electricity courses through your veins as his long fingers deftly rip off your flimsy g-string, pocketing it safely in his work pants. You have half the mind to snark about it before you register Gojo’s throbbing cock flush against your pussy, leaking tip teasing in between your dripping folds leisurely. 

Your slick mixing with his precum, trailing down down down his glistening length, pooling on where he tightly gripped his base - splattering onto the hardwood office floor with a deafening tap! tap! tap! that matched the heartbeat in your ears. 

“Beg for it, princess.”

“Hmmm, no.”

Smack! Smack! 

“Ah! Three! Hah- please, sir.”

You didn’t even know exactly what you were begging for - but you got exactly what you wanted. Breath catching in your throat at the way Gojo pushed into you with a raspy grunt, cock hot and heavy against your fluttering walls. 

His sheer size makes you feel like you’ll split apart any second now, but oh how you desperately wanted to be broken by him. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, Gojo began to thrust. Shallow, mindless strokes, each one just to drive his enormous cock deeper to fit into your snug, ravaged cunt. 

“Fuck me, please, sir. Need you feel me up insi-”

Smack! 

“...four.” you whisper, voice strained with need and frustration.

Ass sore, marks probably there for days. Your words catch pathetically in your throat as Gojo loses grip on his restraint - or his sanity - whichever one would break you first. Sheathing himself inside your dripping heaven till his heavy balls smacked your clit, your ass flush against the neat tufts of white at his pelvis. 

Wasting no time, Gojo starts up at an uncontrollable, merciless pace, every inch of him being forced all the way into your snug pussy. Your walls suck him up greedily as his prominent veins throb and graze just right on all your sweet spots. 

“This what you wanted, princess?” he rasps out, pace unwavering. “This is what you wanted, right? To be fucked like the pretty little slut that you are, huh?”

“Yes! Yes, please, sir.”

Each ramming of his cock drives you further and further up the cold desk, a pathetic little ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth at each slam. Knees weakened by his relentless pounding, you didn’t know how you were gonna hold yourself up anymore-

Ah, but you didn’t have to. Gojo Satoru, ever the gentleman, wrapped a single, muscular arm under your hips, kneading the skin underneath his fingertips, fucking you deeper onto his cock as if you were his personal fucktoy.  

“Oh fuck! Hngh- sir, right there.” you yelp at the new angle, his furiously flushed tip kissing your cervix so painfully good, g-spot abused as he grazes it over and over. 

Smack!

“Ah, sir! Five-”

And then you’re cumming. Hips pushing back animalistically, fucking yourself through your high. Chasing peak after peak.

Boneless and exhausting, dripping cunt clamping down on him you mewl, “Fill me up inside, sir! Wanna feel it dripping down my legs.” At the sound of your voice, Gojo’s eyes rolled back, his features contorted in pure ecstasy as his cock twitches savagely inside you, finally letting himself release. Cum gushing out in thick, pulsating spurts.

Filling your abused pussy to the brim, coating your walls an obscene white. Gojo keeps fucking himself through it, milking even the last drops of his length on your cunt. Breaths ragged, hips animalistic, low murmurs of your name leaving his lips. 

And as his climax bates into nothing more but mere tingles, lust-hazed, tired ears catch the distant knocking from outside. Ah, right that appointment.

Blinking back the vision to his eyes, he looks down at you. All fucked-out, swollen lips pouty, and his cum dribbling enticingly down your thighs. Oh how he just wants to bite into you - or have half the mind to just send you out there like this to show all those college losers who you belong to. 

Or, he thinks, eyes twinkling as he looks down at the generously large space under his desk.

You catch his gaze, a dangerous glint in them as he maps every curve and dip of your body. Marked and so very obviously his. Your pretty lips falling into a soft oh! as you realize just what idea was forming behind those darkened blue eyes. 

“Come in.”

Before you know it, you’re shoved hastily under the desk, Gojo’s still-furiously flushed tip kissing your bruised lips as the door swings open. God, if every assignment was like this then you’d probably end up valedictorian…

A/N. Can’t believe this got me b@nned for like a hour bro pls.

Plagiarism not authorized. 

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo x reader #geto x reader #sukuna x reader #nanami x reader #gojo smut #geto smut #sukuna smut #nanami smut #gojo satoru x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #nanami kento x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru smut #tonywrites #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru

[threadbaresweater]

if music be the food of love, play on

Nanami Kento x reader. You're the proud owner of a new music store that just opened up beside Kento's Bakery, a beloved oasis on a busy street of a quaint small town. Nanami is cold and unwelcoming when you first meet, but as the weeks pass, he discovers that there's a world of music and happiness right at his doorstep.

Tags: bakery owner Nanami, female musician reader (main instrument is piano); lots of technical talk about music; lots of food mentions (it's a bakery au, afterall); fluff, Nanami doesn't have a sorcerer background, Nobara and Haibara as supporting characters, first kisses, little bit of pining, smidge of angst for Nanami's back story. I've been nursing this for months and finally found the time to finish it today. Before you ask about a part two, please know that it's being considered, though it will be slow based on how long it took me to write this.

See end notes for details on the music mentioned throughout the story and an explanation of the title. 6.5k words. Dividers by the lovely @/cafekitsune.

While most of the city is still fast asleep, Nanami Kento unlocks the front door of his bakery and steps inside, ready for another day of creating the neighborhood's best loved bread and pastries. He works alone until his front of house staff arrives a little before 6:00 a.m., when it's time to open to the public. Every morning is the same– by the time he flips the little sign on the door from Closed to Open, there's a case full of fresh baked pastries that have each been handcrafted with loving skill by Nanami's hands. It's meditative for him– ingredients, measurements, time, routine, a well-loved butcher’s block table, intoxicating aromas and his favorite music playing on an old record player. He has an affinity for the classics: Vivaldi, Brahms, Chopin, Tchaikovsky. But on weekend mornings, when the strict weekday regimen is more relaxed and free, it’s jazz. 

The storefront is small, the floors made of old pine planks that groan underfoot, and there's room for one small table for two in front of the window that faces the street. There are a few framed prints of famous artworks on the walls, a well-loved spider plant hanging in the corner, and a small wooden shelf with the daily newspaper and a few old cookbooks. Behind the cash register is a cutaway window where Nanami's kitchen is nestled just beyond. Customers come from miles around at all different times of the day– the morning commuters who build an extra fifteen minutes into their routine to stop in for a cup of coffee to go and a savory pastry wrapped in brown paper, the afternoon crowd who call to order sandwiches ahead for themselves and their coworkers to eat in the park on their lunch break, the evening crowd that stops to grab a fresh loaf of sourdough or rye to take home for dinner. By the time the last customer has left for the day, the case is empty and the cash register is full. An overnight baker comes in around 8 p.m. to begin prepping and proofing for the next morning, and Kento departs for home.

He appreciates the routine. It's predictable and comforting, and he thrives on knowing that he's still making a difference in the world– or, at least, in his little neighborhood. Owning a bakery is not a glamorous existence, but it’s honest work. His staff is competent and efficient, and he pays them fairly. He’s never failed a health department inspection– his kitchen is pristine and organized, with fresh ingredients and well-kept equipment being of utmost priority. It took him months to jump through all the hoops; health, utility, and zoning inspectors paraded through the store, nitpicking at every small detail until it’s all up to code. Nanami had little patience for all the red tape, but he held his tongue and signed all the papers and paid all the fees. He hired and trained a handful of workers and opened for business on a sleepy Thursday morning.

By the time the little music store comes to life next door, he’s been in business for over two years. And he’s thriving. Amid the other small businesses– a florist, an artist co-op, a jeweler, a few specialty clothing boutiques, a candy shop– he’s respected and loved, though the rest of the owners agree that he’s a bit of a grump. Hard to talk to, rarely smiles or makes small talk. Perhaps none of them have ever really given him a chance to say anything. Or perhaps Kento doesn’t really want to say anything to them. For all intents and purposes, he seems happy with his lot.

You purchase the store next door to Kento’s at the end of September. It takes a few weeks for the finer details to be secured, but the day you move in, it’s sunny and unseasonably warm. Nanami watches from behind the counter as the box truck you rented pulls up and takes up two parking spaces in front of his bakery. The dough he’s kneading bears the brunt of his frustration as he continues to watch.

You and two men get out; you survey your parking job and shrug your shoulders as if to say this will have to do. The truck is large, and there isn’t a lot of room in the alley behind the store, so it's really your only option. With a worried nibble of your fingernail, you turn and look in the window of the bakery to see if anyone’s watching. The glare on the glass makes it hard for you to tell, but Nanami watches you with a deep frown as you motion for your movers to start unloading the truck. For a moment, it looks like you’re going to come inside, but you change your mind mid step and go to unlock the door to your own store instead.

Nanami finishes the dough he’s working, dusts off his hands on his apron, and decides it’s time to confront you.

“Mr. Kento, is everything okay?” the counter attendant asks, concern etched into her features. “Are you–”

“I’ll be right back,” he says, without making eye contact. Onto the sidewalk he steps and crosses his arms, looking from your giant truck and over to your store, mouth slightly open, brows arched. He’s clearly annoyed, and he’s about to make it known when you bounce over to him, extending a hand in greeting.

“Hi! You must be Kento. I’ve never been to your bakery, but I’ve heard wonderful things.” You tell him your name, even though he doesn’t ask. And when he doesn’t take your hand, you sheepishly pull yours away, feeling a little deflated.

“You’re taking up two parking spaces.” It’s all he offers. 

You scratch the back of your head and huff a little laugh. “Yeah, sorry about that. The alley is so narrow, and I wasn’t sure if–”

“I receive deliveries out back twice a week, in a truck of a similar size. None of those drivers have ever had a problem fitting.”

Nodding, you stammer an apology, then call out to your movers. “We can park out back, you guys! He says there’s plenty of room!”

Nanami seems to relax, but only a little. “This is customer parking.”

You scoff, but you feel your face grow hot. This definitely isn’t the way you’d hoped to meet your next door business owner. “Look, I said I was sorry, okay? I’m not sure what else you want me to do.” As you start to say you’d like to buy something from him, the truck roars to life and you snap your lips shut with a short nod. Pleased, Nanami retreats back inside just as one of his customers pulls in to claim one of the spaces your truck left.

It takes hours to unload the truck, and days after that to sort through everything you’ve brought with you. You don’t hear another word from the baker next door, and you’re quite content with being left alone to organize your store the way you envisioned. There’s much more than you’d realized– stacks of sheet music, instruments you’d picked up at auctions and thrift stores that needed a little TLC, boxes of records and CD’s and even a few old cassette tapes, and an old upright piano that had been yours since the tender age of four. Your grandmother taught you to play on this piano, and now, it’s your turn to pass on the skill. Deep down, you know it’s a little crazy and overly-ambitious to open a music store and attempt to teach piano lessons, but you want to try. If worse comes to worst, you could always hire someone to tend to the store while you teach.

As the weeks go by and autumn settles in, word of your shop travels through town. You aren’t terribly busy yet, but you have a few regulars from the local university who like to raid your record collection from time to time, and you teach about a dozen piano students on a weekly basis. There’s generally a lull in business in the early afternoon, so on a particularly cool October day, you decide to lock up for a few minutes and head next door. You haven’t seen Nanami since the first time you met, but you’re hoping he doesn’t kick you out when he sees you at his counter.

A little bell above the door signals your arrival. Inside the bakery, it’s warm and inviting and smells like coffee and your grandmother’s kitchen. You order a drink and a croissant and make small talk with the counter staff. She’s young and smiling, seemingly happy to be at work as she goes about making your coffee order. You look around, noting the finer details of the store– the handwritten tags on the different varieties of bread, the old world feel and warm, yellow lighting. For someone whose first impression left you a little disenchanted, he certainly knows how to create a charming atmosphere.

As you go to leave, you hear your name called from the kitchen. You turn around just as you tear off a piece of the croissant to stuff in your mouth and meet Nanami's eyes, chewing in wide-eyed wonder. The flaky, buttery, melt-in-your-mouth texture of the croissant makes you want to moan in delight. But you're also gobsmacked that he remembers your name.

You swallow, then offer him a wide smile and a thumbs up from the hand that holds your coffee. "Kento! Nice to see you! I didn't know you were here today," you demure. 

He is not impressed. "I'm here every day."

"Oh, right– being the owner and all."

"How do you like it?" he asks, giving a subtle incline of his head toward the pastry in your hand.

"Wha– oh, this?" You purse your lips and kiss the air. "Delectable. Delightful." You bite off another piece, and some of the flaky dough flutters across your cheek. "I should have come over weeks ago."

Something in his demeanor softens. It's so subtle that you'd probably have missed it if you weren't watching him so closely, anticipating his next move. "I wondered if you ever would, considering our first encounter."

You scoff. "That's old news. I was over it an hour after it happened."

There's a hint of a smile that lifts the corner of his mouth, and he pushes his glasses up with a floured finger. "Yes, I suppose it is."

For a brief moment, he considers asking about how business has been going for you, but ultimately decides against it. You take a sip of coffee as the cashier looks between the two of you, busying herself with wiping down the counter while trying to appear nonchalant. "Well," you begin, hooking your thumb over your shoulder, "I should probably head back over. I have a student coming soon. Nice talking to you, Kento!"

His interest is piqued. "Student?"

You nod, chewing on another mouthful. "Mm-hm! I teach piano lessons."

A golden brow raises, and his brown eyes gleam behind his wire-rimmed glasses. "I had no idea."

You laugh. "That's why you should come and visit me! I haven't had the most warm welcome in this little neighborhood, and you're partly to blame for that."

"I thought you said that was old news," he deadpans. 

You throw him a wink and use your elbow to open the door. "Later, Kento."

You visit once or twice a week, then every day. It becomes part of your morning routine to visit, and you know it's no good for your wallet, but you can’t resist. Eventually, the counter staff stops charging you for coffee. “It’s on the house,” Nanami calls from his station one morning. You leave an extra tip in the little jar by the cash register, and he scowls at you. You laugh and wave, then head back to your store, pleased that you seem to know just how to get under his skin.

You bring him a record next time you come. Vivaldi– The Four Seasons. You’d been at an auction over the weekend and thought of him when you found it. You slide it across the counter and tip your head toward the grumpy baker in the back. “For your boss,” you tell the cashier, whose name you’ve learned is Nobara and that she’s in school for graphic design but she’s been shadowing Kento and learning the art of baking. 

“He won’t take it,” she whispers, though her mouth betrays her when she grins with you in a conspiratorial sort of way. She slips it under the counter and leans forward, lowering her voice even further. “I’ll make sure he hears it, though.”

You sip your coffee and meander toward the window while Nobara sneaks her way toward the record player that’s playing some pretentious Bach etudes. She rolls her eyes and pretends to yawn, then winks at you and lifts the needle. 

“What happened?” As soon as the music stops, Kento calls from the kitchen, though you can’t see him from where you stand. You and Nobara share a wide-eyed moment while she slides the Vivaldi record out of its sleeve.

“Record’s over!” she replies. “Just getting another one out.”

You stifle a giggle behind your palm as she drops the needle. A few revolutions of static fill the small space, then the triumphant fanfare of Spring makes your heart leap with familiar excitement. 

Kento steps out from the kitchen, dusting his hands on his apron. It’s only the second time you’ve seen the entirety of him, as most of the time his lower half is obscured by the wall behind the cash register. He’s taller than you realized, with broad shoulders that strain against the cotton of his button up. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and you can’t help but notice the well-defined muscle in his forearms and the thickness of his fingers. He looks from you to Nobara, then back to you. He’s not amused, but he isn’t exactly mad, either. You wonder if this guy has ever smiled at all.

“Vivaldi,” he says. “This isn’t my record.”

“It is now,” you say. Nobara grabs a broom and sweeps under one of the tables, and Kento steps a little closer to you. The music plays on, and you can’t tell if he’s listening and doesn’t want to ruin the vibe or if he truly is at a loss for words.

“How much do I owe you?” he asks, reaching in his back pocket, presumably for his wallet.

You shake your head and smile at him. “It’s on the house. Now we’re even.”

“I didn’t realize you were in my debt.”

“Coffee. I haven’t paid for a cup in almost two weeks. I wanted to give you something in return.”

He knocks on your door just after you've locked up on a cold, rainy November afternoon. 

“That’s not necessary,” he says, and if you didn’t know any better (and you really don’t) you’d think he was offended. He pulls a couple of bills from his wallet and holds them out to you. “Really. The coffee isn’t a big deal.”

You take a couple of steps backward until your shoulder butts into the door. The little bell above you jingles merrily. “Neither is the record!” And before he can say another word, you’re trotting back to your territory, leaving him with the triumphant sounds of Spring and your mischievous smile emblazoned on his psyche.

"We're closed!" you shout from the back, not bothering to see who's at the door.

"It's Kento," he calls, fitting as much of his body as he can under the awning to avoid getting any wetter than he already is.

You smile to yourself and go to let him in, sweeping your arm in a grand gesture. "Welcome to my humble shop, good sir. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance."

He doesn't even crack a smile, but steps over the threshold and dries his shoes on the welcome mat. For a moment, he doesn't speak, only looks around at your haphazard organization of goods. You watch him curiously, filing away a few pieces of sheet music before fully turning to face him.

“How do you like it?” you ask.

“Quaint,” he answers, not meeting your gaze. You notice for the first time that he’s carrying a brown paper bag, and he approaches you, wordlessly holding it out for you to take. 

“Aw, thanks, Kento.” You accept it with a smile and stick your nose down in the bag, inhaling deeply. 

“Rosemary,” he offers when he sees you lift a brow, trying to place the scent. 

“It smells incredible.” 

“You give piano lessons.” It’s a statement, not a question. You chuckle lightly at his abrupt change of subject. Either he’s incredibly socially awkward, or he doesn’t waste time on trivial small talk. You think it’s probably the latter.

“Right. We talked about it before. Why? Do you have a niece or something that wants to learn?”

He cocks his head at you, still expressionless. “No. I do.”

THe silence between you stretches on for just a beat too long, making the air tense and awkward. Nanami’s eyes don’t leave your face, and you find yourself stuttering out some kind of affirmative sound.

“Do you have an opening in your schedule?”

“I have a few!” you say. “What’s a good time for you?”

Nanami looks at his watch. “There’s no time like the present. Is this time of day usually free for you?”

“I–” You laugh sheepishly, but gesture for him to follow you to the back of the store where your little, slightly out of tune upright piano sits, surrounded by shelves of method books, theory worksheets, and volumes upon volumes of music through the ages. “I usually use this time to practice my own stuff, but I could make time for you.”

He slides easily onto the old wooden bench and inches it back, away from the keys, to accommodate his long legs. To say you’re surprised when he begins to play scales would be an understatement. He’s a little clumsy, using the wrong fingers on the wrong keys some of the time, but he keeps a steady tempo as his hands move up and down the octaves. 

“You didn’t tell me you knew how to play,” you murmur, sitting in the chair you have placed to his right. Your teaching chair. Your newest student watches his hands, a lock of his golden hair falling over his forehead as he tilts his chin downward. You cross your legs and smile fondly. 

"I took lessons as a child," he says quietly. "But I didn't keep up with it once I went to high school." He stops abruptly, then turns to you. "I'd like to refresh, though. Maybe learn a new piece or two."

"Of course!" From one of the shelves to your right, you pull out a volume of simplified classical pieces, thumbing through until you find one suitable. You lean forward and place it in front of him. "How's your sight reading?"

"Poor," he frowns, but he begins to pluck out the melody line, slow and deliberate. 

"That's your assignment this week, then. I'll give you a book for home practice, and when you come back next week, be prepared to play one or two songs for me. Focus on the mechanics, the fingering, the tempo. We'll add in dynamics when you feel you've got it."

He continues to play, his left hand pressing against the pages to keep them from falling shut. "What's your fee?"

You answer without hesitation. "Bread."

He raises a brow as if to ask if you're serious. "Bread?"

You nod. "Bread. One loaf per week. Doesn't matter what kind, though I'm partial to a well-made focaccia."

"Bread is hardly sufficient for your services."

"I'm trying to be neighborly here, Kento. Indulge me."

"Fine. One loaf per week. And I'll buy my own sheet music."

"That's not necessary, I have–"

"I'll buy my own sheet music," he reiterates. You snap your mouth shut and give him a swift nod. 

If his demeanor as a student is anything like his demeanor as a business owner, you're in for one hell of a ride.

The days grow short as winter settles in. With the holidays just around the corner, Nanami's bakery grows busier by the day with custom orders for parties and other social events, and you're busy preparing students for their first studio recital. Despite his busy schedule, he still visits you every Thursday afternoon and astounds you with the progress he makes. You wonder how he finds the time to practice, especially now, during his busiest season.

You've learned a few things about him during your time together. He's not much of a talker, preferring to keep his private life private. But when you do manage to get a little bit of personal information out of him, he gets a faraway, melancholy look in his eye, like maybe some part of him is stuck in those memories of a life long past. He’s divorced. It was a childless, loveless marriage, one where his ex-wife chased more after her own pleasure than their mutual enjoyment in more ways than one. He worked for years as a financial advisor, and when the divorce settlement came, she took her share of their assets and moved across the continent. He soon began to feel suffocated by the endless hours he spent at the office, so he took up baking as a hobby. What began as a way to distract himself from loneliness turned into a lucrative business opportunity; he opened the bakery with part of his retirement fund and never looked back.

His favorite composer is Beethoven. He appreciates the moodiness of the music, the complex and haunting melodies that seem to speak to a part of his soul he's buried long ago. You want to ask him why he never pursued music, but he beats you to the punch. 

"There was a time as a child that I dreamed of being a concert pianist," he says quietly. He's playing the same two measures of a Beethoven piece, just the left hand, committing the sequence to muscle memory. 

You hum and tilt your head. "What happened to that dream?"

He grunts, frustrated, though with the passage of music or his memory, you couldn't say. "My father. 'You won't make any money as a musician', he'd tell me. I said I didn't care about the money, so he found other ways to discourage me."

You're angry at his father on his behalf. It's true, the life of a musician isn't all glitz and glamor, but it's fulfilling work. The friendships formed and the memories of performances and late night jam sessions are worth more than any measly paycheck you might receive. It might be a romanticized way to think about it, but it's not unreasonable to find a way to make a modest living from music.

"So you studied–"

"Finance. Numbers. Spreadsheets and accounting. Math and music aren't really all that different when you break it down," he says. "Of course, you can't put emotion into algebraic equations," he scoffs. He lifts his hand from the keyboard and turns to look at you. "But you can with bread."

You nod. "It's true. I'm sorry you didn't have anyone to encourage you to follow your heart."

He pauses, lips slightly parted as if he wants to say something retaliatory; but he sighs instead. "So am I."

You're struck suddenly with an idea, and nearly knock over your chair to open one of your cabinets. Nanami watches carefully as your fingers flip through different books, your eyes alight with excitement and maybe a smidge of mischief. "Found it!" You nudge him with the book as you sit on the edge of the bench to his right. "Scoot."

"What's this?" he asks as you set the music in front of the two of you. 

"Play this with me," you say. You grab the book and bend the spine so that it lays a little more flat. "Look. It's in C Major. It's not fast. And your part is simple!" When he looks at you, skeptical, you laugh. "It's sight reading practice! Come on Kento, don't be scared."

It isn't the music that he's afraid of. It's the proximity of you, sitting mere inches away from him on the same bench. It's your shoulder rubbing against his, the light floral scent of your perfume, the way the setting sun slants in from the front window and makes your eyes shine. He swallows thickly and tears his gaze away from you to study the music, ghosting his hands over the keys without actually pressing them.

"I'll take care of page turns. You control the pedal. Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," he says.

"Alright. On my count. One-two-three-four–"

It isn't perfect by a long shot. You get through the first few pages without much difficulty, but Nanami's capacity for sight reading isn't quite up to par, and he grows frustrated that he can't keep up with you. He stops after an unsuccessful attempt at a set of quick sixteenth notes and shakes his head. 

"What's wrong?" 

"I need more practice," he murmurs, watching your hands as you continue playing. 

"You were doing fine!"

"Not as good as you."

You laugh, incredulous. "Kento, I've got years of practice on you! Give yourself a break!" You swat playfully at his shoulder and start to slide away from the bench, but he takes hold of your wrist. You freeze, and the smile falls from your lips when you see the way he's looking at you. 

"I'll pay you for the extra time if I can stay a little longer." I want to get this right. For you.

When you settle back in beside him, he releases his grip on your wrist. The loss of warmth and pressure takes your breath away. Your tongue feels to heavy for your mouth when you agree to let him stay. "You don't have to pay me. Let's work this through."

You spend the next hour writing in numbers on the sheet music to guide him on which fingers to use on which keys, which passages are important to the call and response with your part, where to pause, where to speed up. The piece in its entirety is long; four movements, a total performance time of over forty minutes, but you plan to concentrate only on the first. Nanami is attentive and asks plenty of relevant questions, but as the evening draws on, you find it hard to concentrate on the music. Stifling a yawn with the back of your hand, you glance at the old grandfather clock that stands near the back door. 

"I think that will give you enough to do this week, don't you think?" In the beat of silence that follows your question, your stomach gurgles. Embarrassed, you rub a hand over your abdomen. "Sorry."

Nanami closes the book and checks his watch. "When did you last eat?" he asks.

"I had an early lunch. Breakfast. Brunch?" You giggle at yourself and shrug. "A while ago," you admit.

He's at war with himself, and it's written all over his face. There's guilt for keeping you so late, annoyance that you didn't stop teaching him at a reasonable time. There's a thankfulness in the way his brows knit together, though, and a tender admiration for how dedicated you are. He also wants to take you to dinner, but he doesn't want it to be a date, and he doesn't want you to think that he's asking you out because he doesn't want to overstep any sort of student-teacher relationship.

But he owns a bakery that's stocked with food, whose employees have long gone home for the evening. 

"Come with me." 

You begin to protest. You know what he's going to offer, but you're tired and a little frazzled, and you know you won't be good company for much longer. "Kento, I appreciate it, but–"

"Let me make you something." 

You sigh, but your stomach has more to say. 

Nanami lifts a brow and quirks up the corner of his mouth. "Come on," he says, "before I change my mind."

The sidewalk is dusted with a glittering swirl of snow when you step outside and lock up. The street in front of your shops is barren and dark, save for a lone, flickering street lamp and a biting cold winter wind. You wish you'd thought to grab your coat (or at least a scarf), but Nanami is quick to unlock his door and usher you inside, his hand hovering near the small of your back, barely touching. You're immediately thankful for the warmth of his bakery. Even now, with the ovens off and only the quiet hum of the refrigerator, the atmosphere warm and welcoming. You roll some of the tension out of your shoulders and look around while he goes straight to the record player and puts on an album. This one is different than his usual fare; the crackle of the needle on vinyl satisfies you in a way you can't explain, and soon you're surprised to hear the croon of Louis Armstrong.

"I didn't take you for a jazz fan," you muse, following him behind the counter. You feel like you're being let in on one of the world's best kept secrets, like you really shouldn't be here, even though you were invited– no, told– to come. Nanami pulls out a stool and instructs you to sit, and you do, though you're itching to help in some way.

"Sure you don't need me to do anything?" 

He looks at you over the rim of his glasses, then uses his index finger to push them up the bridge of his nose. You take that as a no, so you settle onto the stool and listen to the music while he works.

"You know, for it to be a real exchange of services, you should teach me how to bake." 

He continues to assemble two sandwiches with cold cuts of meat and fresh tomato and some kind of pesto spread that makes your mouth water. The sound of the serrated edge of a knife cutting through a loaf of crusty bread makes your stomach growl again. Nanami scoffs. "I'm not a good teacher."

"Bullshit. I bet you're amazing."

"I'm not patient. I thought you'd be able to figure that out from the way I study piano." He sets a plate in front of you, then pulls out another stool, settling in adjacent from you at the other side of the prep table. You wonder if it's not customary for him to eat here. Something tells you that he likes to keep this space pristine when he's not using it for its intended purpose, but you choose to ignore it. 

"You've got to have a little patience stored in there somewhere." You point to his heart and smile. "Doesn't bread take hours from start to finish? Pastries, too? And pies, and cookies and stuff?"

"Cookies don't take hours," he says. "But you do have a point with the bread and pastries. If you really want to learn, I'll teach you. But not tonight." He nods toward the sandwich. "Eat. I know you're hungry."

You eat. The first bite is a little piece of heaven; you expected nothing less, based on the other things you've eaten from his bakery, but this is on another level. Maybe it's because you haven't eaten in hours, or maybe it's because you're exhausted. Maybe it's because the man sitting with you made it for you and you didn't have to cook or decide what kind of takeout to get, but you'd swear it to be the best sandwich you've had in your life. 

You don't talk much between bites, and neither does he. He, too, seems exhausted by the work he put in, but not in a way that has him feeling defeated. It's a sense of accomplishment, a tired sort of pride that comes from concentrating hard on a project that means something to him. You let the music fill the silence, you sip a cup of fresh-brewed coffee (even though you know you'll regret drinking caffeine so late), you let your spine curve as you lean on the table, feeling full and satisfied.

You offer to help him clean up. He insists that you leave it, that it's late and you should go. You pick up your plate anyway and stick out your tongue as you dance away from him and over to the sink. He grabs your wrist for the second time tonight and you look at his hand, then up at him as he tugs you gently toward him, close enough so that he can take the plate from you with his other hand. The fluorescent lighting does little to conceal his expression; a lock of his hair falls over one eye, where you see the dark half-circles in the skin underneath. He's tired. And it's not just because he spent the evening poring over music, nor is it because of the hours he keeps. You think he's just perpetually tired from the hand that life has dealt him, and you wish in that moment that you could help him rest. 

"I said I've got it," he murmurs, and you suddenly realize you're closer to him than you'd thought. So close, in fact, that you feel the warmth of his breath across your cheek when he sighs at your stubbornness. There's barely an inch between your chest and his, and you catch yourself staring at his neck, wondering idly what it might feel like to run your nails along the stubble on his jaw.

You whisper, "Okay." Your lips feel dry, so you wet them with your tongue; it's an unconscious reflex, but when you see Nanami's eyes flit to your mouth and his cheeks bloom with color, you realize that he reads it in an entirely different way.

Not that you mind. 

He sets your plate in the sink, never letting go of your wrist as he pulls you in even closer. He breathes through his mouth, softly, and he uses his other hand to tilt your chin upward, honey brown eyes dancing across your face. You search his face in kind; your heart is in your throat, and you feel his energy radiating all around you. Testing the waters a bit, you lean in further until the tip of your nose nudges his cheek and he closes his eyes as his hand slips around your waist.

He can't breathe when your lips touch his. You're so tentative and soft, plush silk that presses against his mouth and makes him yearn for more of you right away. There's something otherworldly that happens in that moment; you've shared kisses with a handful of people in your life, but none have ever felt quite like this. You think about the romance books that you read as a teen, where the kiss would be described as electric, charged, all-consuming, like some kind of magic spell was cast over the characters and they knew in an instant that they were meant to be. 

You knew how foolish it was to believe in those kind of stories, yet here you were, standing in the middle of Nanami's kitchen, kissing him while he kissed you back, with soft jazz floating on the air, your fingers tracing across his jaw just as you'd daydreamed about only moments ago. His kiss is slow and deliberate, his tongue gentle and languid as it passes over yours and touches the corner of your mouth as if he's savoring the taste of you.

You're first to pull back, your head light, your chest fluttering as you take in a gulp of precious air. Nanami's forehead rests against yours, fingers pressed lightly against the pulse at your neck. 

"You should go now," he whispers, though it's the last thing in the world he wants you to do. It's dangerous for you to stay. He isn't sure he'll be able to control himself much longer in your presence. 

You nod and give his waist a squeeze as you pull away, and the fatigue of the day begins to set in. Nanami thumbs at your bottom lip before letting you go, watching as you clumsily fumble for your keys in the pocket of your jeans. 

The back door opens suddenly, bringing in a gust of cold air and shimmering snow flurries, and you both jolt as the night baker steps inside. He, too, widens his eyes as he sees the two of you standing there. Nanami cards a hand through his hair and clears his throat while you fish out your keys, laughing nervously.

"Mr. Kento! You're here late," the baker says, looking between the two of you as it dawns on him what may have just happened. 

"We were– I was just leaving," Nanami says. "Let me wash up, then I'll be out of your hair."

The baker smiles. "Nah, I got it. Go on home. You look tired."

Nanami begins to protest, then stops himself. "Thank you, Haibara. I'll see you in the morning."

He guides you out through the front, stopping to turn off the record player. Outside on the sidewalk, he grabs your hand, thumb running over your knuckles as he smiles at you. A genuine smile, the first one you've seen since you've known him.

"Goodnight. And thank you," he says. 

"No need for thanks," you demure, squeezing his hand. "I had fun. And the sandwich was delicious. You spoil me, you know."

He kisses your forehead, then dips down to meet your lips once more. Sweet, chaste, but lingering, as if he wants to commit the feel of it to memory.

"If you’re serious about learning to bake, we can start when you're ready." Tomorrow? Is tomorrow good for you?

"I'll let you know." How about tonight? Right now? You begin to think of ways to rearrange your schedule so you can fit in baking lessons. The thought of rising before the sun makes you scowl, but you might be able to make it work. Especially since you'll be working alongside him. "Goodnight, Kento."

"Goodnight," he repeats, and when he says your name, you can almost hear the way he relishes the feel of it on his tongue.

"Don't forget to practice!" you call to him as you flit down the sidewalk. He chuckles to himself and looks up at the street lamp, hand shoved into his pockets.

"I won't."

The title is taken from Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. “If music be the food of love play on,” by itself, is interpreted as equating music to food for love. On its own, as it is commonly quoted, speakers interpret it as promoting love in one’s life as one might seek out more food to sate one’s appetite. But, in the context of the play and the entire quote, it becomes clear that the speaker is asking for more music because he hopes that it will cure him of his obsessive love for Countess Olivia. He hopes that with more music, his “appetite may sicken and so die.” In the case of Nanami and his love interest, I just wanted a clever title to tie bread and music together, so the quote is interpreted here without context, which changes the meaning entirely 😂

The record that reader bring to Nanami is Vivaldi's Four Seasons, and the song specifically that plays is Spring

The Beethoven piece that he plays is Für Elise, which is a common "beginner" classical song for pianists.

The duet they play is Franz Schubert's Sonata in C Major D.812 (for four hands). They don't get very far before Nanami gives up.

In the bakery when they go to share a meal, Nanami puts on a Louis Armstrong record.

Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please consider a reblog to help spread the love.

#jjk x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[vagabond-umlaut]

pumpkin spiced metal

You like your men like you like your coffee. Dark. Robust. Steamy. Not the best for your health. The very worst for your heart, for sure.

▸ wrestler!Toji x baker!Reader; Historical AU; Pre-Relationship; Tons of Fluff; Teasing Banter; It's Toji so obviously there'll be mentions of attacks, fights, injuries [Reader is 100% unharmed, dw!! :))]; Reader's fearless nature is something I can do anything to have; Toji & Reader Are Into Each Other And Both of Them Low-Key Know This [they are not idiots but smart, for once, your honor]; Reader Has She/Her Pronouns; There is one tiny [or four tiny] mention(s) of Gojo here HEHE

▸ This belongs to the same Historical JJK AU as the knight Nanami x lady-in-waiting Reader fic parterre but you don't need to read that to read this!! This is a stand-alone!! 😊😊

▸ based on the ask sent by @ancient-vivarium for my milestone event. TYYY SMMM FRELLIE!! 🥰🥰🤗😘 i don't own the characters, image or divider used. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

"Coffee wakes one up better than fights, y'know?"

A dagger grazing the shell of your ear before flying into the wall is the very last thing you could have expected your off-handed comment to ever receive; yet, now, on seeing the receiver of your query, you deem you're lucky enough your beloved ear wasn't cut off your beloved face by that wretched dagger.

Fingers gripping your mug more firmly, you heave a heavy sigh— only to click your tongue in the very next instant. Flipping the sign on your bakery's door back to 'closed', you sit down on the steps and make an awkward gesture for this sudden visitor to take the seat beside yours.

A moment passes. And just when you think this person will simply be standing with half of his hulky persona in light and the remaining in a darkness, he shuffles forwards to plop down onto the seat proffered.

You shove the glee curving your lips behind the ceramic of your mug.

Toji throws you a horribly incensed glare from where he's slouched on the stair. "Ya find this shit funny, eh? I can still kill ya if I wanna. These injuries don't mean anything— 'm tellin' ya."

"Mmhm," you nod your agreement quickly, biting your cheek once to keep them blasted giggles within yourself. "I know you can– wrestler and rumored assassin Toji. I'm very well aware you can; but don't you think it's a bit funny— someone as strong and scary as you sharing a cup of coffee with someone akin me? If you aren't you, won't you find this slightly funny, hm? I bet you will, you know."

Your confident remark earns a furrowed glance from your companion before he sighs, dragging a palm down his so weary face then curling it into a fist to rest his cheek on. You shoot him a quizzical look— only for it to bounce right off him, as he closes his eyes, and gives another exhausted sigh.

The sight twists your heart in a way, pretty weird but not unpleasant, you decide.

A hazy yet sharp eye blinking open to watch you, Toji grumbles, "Was attacked by several men some time back on my way to the grounds... of course, I beat them up to a pulp so much, not even their family can tell them apart now; but everything happened so out of the blue—"

"You don't need to explain anything anymore. I understand where the sudden knife attack came from," you cut him off gently, keeping your cup on the ground beside and moving to rub a soothing thumb on an awfully deep scar on the underside of his palm. The muscles beneath your ministrations tense a little, before relaxing a smidgen— you hear a quiet huff of a laugh from the man next to you.

You drag your eyes away from the scars on his hands to that on his lip before lifting them to meet his deep, dark gaze. A smirking glint stays there to greet your inquiring gaze.

Toji asks, "Aren't ya scared of being alone with someone rumoured to have killed half of the Zenin clan, eh, girl? People say the man in front of you once attempted to finish off that blue-eyed brat too once... Did ya not know that?"

You do. The thing is, you do.

You do know each and every one of those rumors. Silly or not. Weird or not. Being the most popular baker in the royal kingdom has made you the unwilling listener to these rumours and so many, many more.

[Just the other day, you heard one lady screech to the other, how she spotted the princess winking— yes, winking— at Lord Gojo. The next day, you saw Her Highness in your bakery, kicking the same Lord and calling him names– no sane lady would ever dream of calling the man they fancy.]

[The princess is not very sane, you know this too. But you choose not to dwell on it too much.] [You value your neck very much, thank you!!]

You shrug after two seconds worth consideration.

"Those Zenin's deserve to be killed, if I'm being very honest here. And as for the matter pertaining to Lord Gojo..." you trail off, before giving your second shrug of the minute and resuming, "I noticed you and he conversing in the marketplace the other day, so I suppose– whatever happened, if anything at all, is all in the past. Also, it's for the best if I don't interfere in others' business, y'know? I've a not-very-tiny one of my own to manage, which is no easy feat, if I must admit— but, yeah. No matter what your reputation is, I don't really mind you here. You've the signs of being a nice company."

An oddly piercing gaze is the only respone your lengthy reply receives— or so you think before Toji cracks a barely-there smile at you, rising from his seat and extending a hand towards you.

It's not the etiquette, some part of your mind tsks. You shut it down in less than an instant. Etiquettes are shit stuff meant for those of noble blood. You and Toji aren't so— at least, not this very second in the soft light of the day, breaking through the cloak of the yesternight— those etiquettes can be easily forgotten by you two. For now.

Forever as well. Perhaps.

You too rise, placing your palm in his outstretched one. And shoot a wide smile when he squeezes your hand and queries, "Ya sure won't mind making an extra cup of coffee for every morning from now on, yeah?"

Enjoying the pitter-patter in the middle of your chest, you shake your head, chuckling. "Heavens, no. If anything, I'll be the happiest to drag another person into my coffee-worshipping cult."

Especially if that someone is as alluring as the one before you— with a crooked grin, a tad bloody and very much feral– but you decide not to mention it– choosing to keep it close to your heart till the time Toji too grows nearer to your heart.

[Which, you reckon, will happen soon, if the pinkish hue of his ears and the moisture on his palm are what you hope suppose they are.]

▸ masterlist

#toji x you #toji x reader #zenin toji x you #zenin toji x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #toji fluff #jjk fluff #kit posts 📝

[mynahx3]

Welcome to my blog! I'm Birdie! AO3 °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖° I'm 23, she/her, INFJ, just vibing here. Higuruma/ Nanami girlie Would love to make friends! Mainly writing for my guilty pleasures more than anything. Requests are open for x readers! Here are my works so far!~

Open to write for Haikkyu, HxH, JJK, Marvel, and BSD!

I’m okay with writing NSFW, angst, fluff!

For NSFW characters will always be of age.

Open to writing dark, obsessive love like yandere

Satoru Gojo One Moment Was All It Took Masterlist (Yandere! Soulmate! AU) Comforting you after a break up Nanami Kento Knight! Nanami x Queen! Reader Teen! Nanami Comforting you after a break up Return of a Favor (Retelling of japanese tale Crane's Return of a Favor) Choso Kamo Comforting you after a break up

Upcoming Fics (Not in any order)

Too Sweet ( reader x higuruma)

Bitterness and Melancholy ( Ex Suguru x reader)

Dark Eyed Soul (Vamp! Yuta au)

The Stud Muffin and Cupcake (Baker Nanami x reader)

It’s Not All Roses (Yandere Nanami)

Yandere Uvogin

Spare Girl (Yandere Chrollo)

Please no reposts and remember to read tags and warnings!

@chachachannah

[bloompompom]

In-progress

❇︎ bloompompom — patron!eren x florist!reader

❇︎ buerriberry — inn owner!levi x traveler!reader

❇︎ daisynik7 — jojamart corporate employee!nanami x farmer!reader

❇︎ maplesuna — florist!vash x librarian!reader

❇︎ shoyostar — aspiring mangaka!akaashi x baker!reader

❇︎ somelattes — traveler!megumi x tavern bartender!reader

❇︎ teetoru — neighbor!daichi x librarian!reader

❇︎ todorosie — town doctor!shouto x farmer!reader

Completed

❇︎ k9nto — low tides

writer!geto x farmer!reader content warnings (provided by author): afab!reader (unspecified pronouns), farmer!reader, writer!geto, elliott-coded!geto, stardew valley!au, fluff, not proofread.

Want to move to the valley? Learn more here! ♡

#blooming in the valley #bloomy's milestone event #master list #divider by @/saradika

[ry0chann]

9:00 PM || Kento Nanami

彡 SUMMARY: Just a nighttime visit to your favorite bread bakery.

彡 WARNINGS: gn!reader, bakery au, baker!Nanami, fluff, mutual pinning, not proofread

彡 WORD COUNT: 1.4k (idk how that happened)

. . . another entry of mine for @hanemiso Dreamscape collab !!! i feel like Nanami is somehow ooc in this, maybe, but i think it’s cute so like, whatever. i also didn't know wtf to title this therefore it's a timestamp (even though that's not currently the time LMAO — just the time it takes place)

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!

A soft ding can be heard coming from the front of the store, notifying Nanami, who was in the back, that he was no longer alone. He doesn’t stop what he’s doing though, simply continuing to lightly knead the dough in front of him. He knew exactly who it was that had arrived — there was only one person who came to see him after hours, the one and only person who he’d leave the door unlocked for.

You step into his cozy shop, smiling when the subtle scent of bread floods your nostrils. The shelves were pretty much empty, he must’ve been busy today. Your regular visits were in the morning as soon as the place opened, when the shelves were stocked full of freshly made rolls and loaves. Everyday you’d come in and purchase something. Your face was the first one he saw, and honestly, he found that pleasant.

Your frequent visits quickly made you his favorite customer, not that anyone besides the two of you knew that. That was when he started inviting you to see him when the bakery was closed. Nanami was quite the busy man and finding time outside of work was difficult, knowing he ran this shop alone. So he told you he’d start leaving the door unlocked for you. You were reluctant to take up his offer at first, not wanting to intrude or interrupt his work. However, he didn’t mind.

Whatever little time you spent together was enough for him to grow fond of you, and you, of him. Perhaps it was too soon to say you felt something for the man, yet, it felt like a lie to say you didn’t. And unbeknownst to you, he felt the same. There was always an underlying nervousness in your gut whenever you came to see him at night, one that Nanami most likely felt as well.

“Nanami?” your voice bounces off the brick walls, ringing beautifully in Nanami’s ears when he catches the sound.

“I’m in the back, dear,” he calls out, now feeling a rapid beating in his chest.

You blush at the pet name, despite that being the millionth time he’s called you that. The sound of your shoes tapping against the wooden floors echoes softly through the building, yet it falls silent on Nanami’s ears. 

You stop in the doorway of the kitchen when you notice he was occupied, leaning against the doorframe as you observe him. His hands skillfully work at the floured dough on the countertop, toned arms flexing every time he pushes down on the dough. 

‘Had he always looked this good?’ you wonder. The man was definitely attractive, you wouldn’t deny that. Still, you never noticed how stunning he truly was. The pale blue button up he wears is rolled at the sleeves, exposing his muscular forearms. His round frames sit low on his nose, a couple loose strands of hair hanging above his forehead.

He was working diligently, you’ve never witnessed it firsthand before. You didn’t want to interrupt him, instead resorting to simply admiring him from afar. Nanami could feel your eyes though, slowly looking up at you with a grin.

“Come in if you’d like.”

“I have no problem watching,” you say, “Please, don’t let me distract you.”

The man chuckles, stopping his task and wiping his hands clean on the apron that was wrapped around his waist. 

“I apologize for being busy. Normally I’m done by the time you get here.”

He steps over to the other side of the counter to be closer to you, leaning against it with his arms crossed. You shake your head at his statement, disregarding his unnecessary apology.

“No worries. I suppose I did come a bit earlier today.” 

“Well,” he begins, “Your presence is always welcome.”

He then goes on to say that, if you didn’t mind, he would like to continue working, to which you said not to let you being here stop him. You actually enjoyed watching him work — he looked at peace.

Silently, you stare at his hands kneading, somehow impressed with how easy he made it look. You understood it’d take quite a bit of strength, or even stamina, to do such a tedious task so meticulously. His dedication was admirable.

“Would you like to try?” he suddenly asks, pulling you from your thoughts.

His brown eyes catch your stare and you stutter in answering him.

“C’mere, I’ll show you how to do it,” he chuckles, gesturing for you to stand by him.

You do so, and he’s soon taking off his apron to wrap it around you instead. Your breath catches in your throat when he stands behind you, your heart pounding like a drum behind your ribcage as he wraps the strings around your waist. He’s quiet as he ties a bow, giving your back a gentle touch to suggest that he was done.

Nanami stands next to you, calmly explaining the simple task at hand. When you assured him you understood it all, he sprinkled some flour onto your palms and let you get started. Delicately, you knead at the dough, and Nanami watches you intently, closely paying attention to your movements. 

“Like this?” you ask, looking at him while you palm at the dough.

He smiles politely, giving you a nod, “Mhm, just put a little more force into it. Like this.”

Nanami’s behind you once more, setting his hands on top of yours.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice deep in your ears.

You whisper a “yes” too flustered by his actions to speak any louder. He could tell he was making you nervous, yet he continued to help you, not doing your nerves any favors. He was nervous too honestly — if you listened well enough you could probably hear his heartbeat.

His palms were flat against the back of your hands, pressing them down into the dough to knead it better than how you were doing it on your own. His skin was softer than you expected it to be, and being so close to him you could practically smell the subtle yet lingering scent of his cologne.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” Nanami questions, lightening up the pressure he was using against you.

“N-no, this is fine,” you mumble, trying to use his movements to your advantage rather than let him do all the work.

Had you been anyone else, he wouldn’t have given you so much guidance, though perhaps he was just looking for excuses to touch you. Feeling your skin against his had his stomach doing cartwheels. He was able to remain focused, despite how difficult it was.

“Good, there you go. Just like that,” he praises, his breath kissing your neck and making you shiver.

Just as you get the hang of it, he separates from you, letting you breathe. Not that you had an issue being that close to him, but if he stayed there any longer you were sure you’d faint. Nervously, you laugh, backing away from your job well done. Nanami takes over again, going at it for another minute or two before deciding it was done.

“You did good,” he says, “Thank you. Perhaps I should have you help me again sometime.”

You blush at the thought. Even if you were to help him again, it’s not like he’d walk you through it the way he just did. Regardless, you were more than happy to accept his offer.

Nanami begins to clean things up, setting the dough in a bowl and preparing it for proving. You suddenly remember you were still wearing his apron, quickly wiping your hands clean before untying it. With shaky hands, you hand it back to him and he takes it with a grin. He looks at you a second longer than you’re used to, finally speaking when he gathers the words.

“Forgive me if this is too forward, however, I was wondering if you’d like to join me for dinner?”

Your eyes widen, heartbeat never once slowing when his words settle in your mind. It was a bit past dinnertime, though knowing his work hours, it made sense as to why he’d only get around to eating now. And for whatever reason, you giggle — not because you thought he was being ridiculous, but because you’ve been wondering when you’d get this opportunity. Maybe he didn’t ask you with intentions of it being a date, still, you were giddy.

“Of course,” you answer with a smile, “I’d love to.”

taglist! [ @snake-titan ]

#[ one shots ] #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #kento nanami #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #nanami x reader

[haruchi-slit]

I have just read "Lady K and Sick Man" and the m lead looks like toji..I'M going feral. ANYWAYS!

#ovalution week sorry. #haruchi-slit #jjk #jjk headcanons #haruchi slit #jjk polls

[m00nprincessai]

I'm ♡♡m00nprincess♡♡!

I make bots on JanitorAI only.

I focus on AnyPOV male bots, usually from the Jujutsu Kaisen fandom and WLW female bots for my sapphic cuties out there♡.

You can also request a bot from me♡

Bot Quick Links:

Satoru Gojo:

Howl's Moving Castle AU

The Six Eyes Series - Rockstar Au

Kingdom of Kaisen Series - Emperor Satoru

Cheating Au

Obsessive Canon Satoru

Model Au

Suguru Geto:

Cowboy Au - Outlaw Suguru Geto

The Six Eyes Series - Suguru Geto

Happy Birthday Suguru!

College Boyfriend Au

Canon Former Lovers Au

New Next Door Neighbor Au

College Au

Nanami Kento:

Boyfriend x Shibuya Au

Kidnapped boyfriend Au

Professor Au

Choso Kamo:

Muse x Artist Au

Art Curator Au

College Au

Toji Fushiguro:

Fuck Buddies Au

Bodyguard Au

Yuta Okkotsu:

Modern Au - Yuta's Birthday

Kingdom of Kaisen - Fallen Priest Yuta

Forbidden Feelings Canon Au

Yuji Itadori:

Love at First Sight Canon Au

College Au

Megumi Fushiguro:

Boyfriend Au

Cheating Au

New Years Kiss with your childhood friend

Summer Fling Au

Actor Au

Ryomen Sukuna:

Bad boy Au

CEO/Sugar Baby Au

WLW:

Shoko Ieri - The Six Eyes Series - Rockstar AU

Lucky - based on the Britney Spears song Lucky.

Amelia Baker - your girlfriend has a cute Valentines day surprise for you.

Shoko Ieri - Jujutsu High's resident doctor is starting to think you're getting hurt on purpose to see her.

Haeri Park - A fellow idol who doesn't know if she wants to be you or wants to be with you.

Yuki Tsukumo - This special grade sorcerer knows you're just her type.

Sasha Lewis - Your best friend has a confession

Claire Reynolds - Your high school girlfriend and you meet again after 10 years.

Mallory Evans - She needs you to be her fake girlfriend for her brothers wedding.

Misc Bots:

Zayne - Love and Deep Space - Boyfriend Au

Quinn Beckett - OC - You meet your childhood best friend again after all these years.

Rafayel - Love and Deep Space - Past Lives Au (Note! Spoilers if you are not far in his route)

Cha Gyeol - My Reason to Die

Denji - Chainsaw Man - Mafia Au

Aki Hayakawa - Chainsaw Man - Mafia Au

#ai roleplay #janitor ai #roleplay #18+ only #adult roleplay #adult rp #ai chatbot #ai bots #j.ai #m00nprincess bots #character ai #chatbot #ai character #ai chatting #roleplay ad #rp ad #jjk rp #anime roleplay #anime rp #wlw rp #oc rp #oc bot #roleplay promo #ai promo #ai rp #jjk roleplay #creative writing #bot creator #janitorai

[threadbaresweater]

I'm thinking about my baker!nanami x musician!reader au today...

[nenchainzz]

Hi! So I’ve been on your blog for a while and I love your selfships. Sooo my question is if you and your ships could be in an au what would they be? -🦋

Omg!! 🦋 anon!! How are you, dearest?? Thank you for your sweet words (made me melt with happiness frfr)

Ooooo as for AUs..I think an overarching one is modern au with all i think, but specifically..let's see (under the cut since i have sooo many selfships)

iida - boss x subordinate (ik ik not the best but him as a boss, i sooooo ugh)

hawks - fallen angel au is so fitting for him i think or oooo maybe reformed!demon x fallen!angel au

nishinoya - maybe like a best friend's brother maybe? or paired up for a school project? either are so sweet to me (i love the potential closeness it brings)

kuboyasu - savior au or oooo bodyguard au as well (i watched the bodyguard with whitney houston like a year ago and i was like this is lowkey kuboyasu coded like the concept)

kaeya - childhood friends au like being good friends in mondstadt with him and diluc and then slowly falling for each other as the years pass

xiao - idk why, but i'm thinking streamer au for some reason, like we're both streamers and fall in love by playing games, and the audience ships us so hard lmao

alhaitham - academic rivals au would be so hot with him omg, especially with his nonchalant attitude through it all omg

kuni - enemies to lovers au is fr his calling like. omg his snarkiness works so well with it

dan heng - monster au like dan heng as a dragon monster hybrid of some kind (includes monster fucking, ofc)

naoto - honestly, i think like undercover couple au would be so cute tbh

chifuyu - i love the idea of being a customer or employee at his pet shop, lol

fushiguro - ok hear me out zoologist!fushiguro and assistant!reader/oc

nanamin - baker!nanami and flowershop!reader/oc has been heavily on my mind for some reason lmao

isagi - friends to lovers i think works really well for isagi

chigiri - model!chigiri is something i think is really hot

kurapika - knight!kurapika is so beautiful to me if i'm being honest

michael - idk why but when i was really into fnaf i thought about like a "the office" au where they do more business side of the company and that's the au lmao

leon - ex-lovers to lovers again au works sooo well with him (@/snowzbun wrote an ex-husband leon fic that was absolutely delicious)

miguel - ok but like pride and prejudice with miguel tho? yes please

#\^o^/ Answered!! #(´♡‿♡`) F/Os My Beloved #🦋anon

[vagabond-umlaut]

Kit 🤍🤍 I always love seeing your picrews and your most recent one that you made for spy!gojo x princess!reader is making me excited for the wip!! So cute 💕

Even if it doesn’t win the poll, I’ll happily wait until you eventually get around to it when or if you do. You always have so many amazing ideas and you manage to execute it flawlessly each and every time!!

tysm for always being so very sweet and supportive, tina!!!! ur words r always so kind and they nvr fail to make my day brighter 😭😭😭 i'm gonna put in my best efforts for the spy!gojo x princess!reader fic, i'm promising u this 🥹🥹❤️❤️❤️ @heresan

i don't think i hv talked to u abt this but the spy!gojo x princess!reader fic is actually a part of a jjk x multiple!reader historical au i'm writing!!! 😁😁 there r four works in it so far– two of which r published and the rest two r dying in my drafts:

knight!nanami x lady-in-waiting!reader [published]

wrestler!toji x baker!reader [published]

spy!gojo x princess!reader [dying in my drafts]

disgraced scholar!sukuna x rival!reader [dying in my drafts as well]

i still need to think of someone for poor geto and haibara 😅 shoko & utahime r together in this tho!! yuki... i need to think... shd she be with choso or someone else... hmmm... 🤔🤔🤔

#tyyy for dropping into my inbox & sending such a sweet message #i missed u sm tina these few days 😭😭😭 #hru doing? 💗 #ask: tina 💙 #kit's inbox 📧

[jotatetsuken]

i was never good at sports - an ~250 follower sports au collab

“I’m tired of waitin’, I was never good at sports…” or ARE YOU??

Sports, in general, have been a part of our lives in some way or the other. Whether you're someone who likes to watch cricket, football, or basketball on the screen or has gone out to play and even won medals, we've all been there! So, as a mark of welcoming summer, celebrating my 5th monthversary of my blog being a solely writing blog, and to celebrate me getting almost 250 followers (lol, we'll get there dw :D), I thought of hosting this collab.

This is an SFW multifandom Sports AU Collab that's open to all writers AND artists! So, all of these are fair game:

all sports animes (Haikyuu, Kuroko No Basket, Free, Yuri on Ice, Diamond no Ace, Blue Lock, etc)

non-sports animes & other fandoms (Marvel, DC, Moon Knight, Obey Me, Genshin Impact, etc) but in sports AU (quarterback Kento Nanami, swimmer Jotaro Kujo, baseball player Yuuji Itadori, soccer player Steven Grant, etc)

if your character has not gone pro in a sports anime

if the reader is a professional sports player.

if the character or reader is a manager for the team.

if the character or reader is a trainer for the team.

if the character from one sports anime plays a different sport

Rules: (under the cut)

-> As it is SFW, all genres are allowed, EXCEPT for smut and dark content (mildly suggestive is okay).

-> You must be following me for this collab (since it's a follower celebration collab), and I'd appreciate it if you don't unfollow me after everyone's posted <3

-> No limit to word count, however, please do include a read more if your fic is 500+ words to avoid clogging the dashboard.

-> Open to multiple fandoms, but for simplicity purposes, a person can choose 2 characters at the max, and every character can be chosen thrice at the max to involve some variety in the masterlist. :D So, just in case, please keep some backups. Exceptions: Daiki Aomine and Jotaro Kujo (since I’m writing on them, I’m leaving three more spots open for them)

-> Oh and most importantly, there is no due date for the collab. So, please take your time <33

-> If you're including multiple characters in one story, the characters' entries are counted (love triangles especially)

-> When your entry is accepted, please reblog this post as much as you can. When you’re done, please tag me at @/tetsukentona and use the following hashtag: #⚽.nevergoodatsportscollab for a guaranteed reblog :D and please don’t forget to attach a link to the master list. If you’re the first to write for any fandom that’s not listed, I’ll add that accordingly.

How to join:

-> Please send me your application requests for the collab through asks and not private DMs, and do specify if it’s a write-up or artwork.

-> I will also allow changes if necessary (change of character/sport, dropping from the collab), so in case there's any change, you can send me an ask OR you can DM me if we're server moots on discord, that works too :D

Eg: Can I please join the collab with Daiki Aomine from Kuroko No Basket and Basketball? It will be an artwork, and he'll be on the Lakers team, or Can I please join the collab with Kento Nanami from Jujutsu Kaisen and Rugby/American Football? It will be a write-up.

Members list : here!

Tagging moots and friends to spread the word:

@mrskenmakozume @beware-of-the-rogue @hyeque @aizumie @cirigiri @arcanestage @thoughtfullyrainynightmare @scandescent @quirrrky @megumischubbycheeks @wakasa-wifey @wakatshi @oikawas-milk-bread @lunaevangeline @haikyutiehoe @chronic-claire-universe @ffsg0jo @mxonigirimiya @sennsational @ry0m3n @christiansdior @undercoverred @gumiresque @reinaphoria @ms-jo-baker @towoshi @bowandcurtsey @jordyn-degas @atsumeii @milkyybuns @p-antomime @ceo-of-daichi @burnthoneymint @saintlike78 @moonbcrry @mystikawi @21-06-1996 @portfolio-of-dreams @festive @indiecursor @suckerforsugawara @thomaphoria @thesecretwriter @satosugulovechild

#⚽.nevergoodatsportscollab #haikyuu!! #kuroko no basket #free! the final stroke #diamond no ace #blue lock #yuri on ice #jujutsu kaisen #attack on titan #black clover #tokyo revengers #jojo's bizzare adventure #marvel cinematic universe #dc comics #shyna's collab ventures #musings of an extrovert

[smoments]

part 4: memories of a stranger // a satosugu reincarnation au

Chapter 4: the toji effect

“Nanamin! Just tell us!!”

“No, Nanami, you don’t have to tell Satoru- but if you told me, you definitely wouldn’t regret it.” 

“Shoko!”

“Why do you want to know so bad anyways, Satoru? Creep!”

“Guys, we should let him go or he’ll be late-“

“Easy for you to say, Haibara! You’re the only one who knows already! You tryna gatekeep?!”

“Stop it, all of you.”

Nanami turns to face them, rubbing his temple in annoyance; he hasn’t even gotten to work yet, and he already has a headache.

“Good lord. Do none of you have somewhere to be?”

Shoko shrugs indifferently, Satoru smirks for some reason, and Haibara, bless him, has the decency to look vaguely apologetic. 

“Nanamin, we’re just concerned as your friends.” Satoru explains with a dramatic flourish of his hands. “You disappear off to this strange place for hours every day, you won’t tell us where you are or who you’re with-“

“I told you I was going to work!”

“-I mean, for all we know you could be in a cult that instills corporate culture into your values and slowly isolates you from all your friends and family-“

“When you find one, Gojo, please let me know, since the restraining order apparently wasn’t enough!”

“Aw, Nanamin, you don’t mean that!”

“Restraining order?” Haibara’s eyes widen in concern, and Shoko shakes her head at him warningly as Nanami mumbles a string of curses under his breath and speeds up, his footsteps reverberating against the pavement. 

“No, but seriously.” Satoru matches his pace and effortlessly comes to his side once again. “I don’t know why you don’t just tell us.”

“Yeah, Nanami!” Shoko calls out leisurely, one of her hands cupping her mouth. “I can’t imagine what you’re worried about- it’s not like we’d stalk you all the way to your workplace or anything.” 

Satoru sighs. “Shoko, that’s not helping.” He inclines his head at Nanami, his hands in his pockets, and lowers his voice to a more conspiratorial tone. “But think about it this way- we wouldn’t have to if we knew.” 

Nanami seems unmoved. “And I wouldn’t have to deal with borderline harassment every day if I had different friends, but here we are.” 

Satoru thinks it’s time to switch techniques.

“Ugh, whatever! Try getting rid of us, then.” 

He and Shoko have already tried coercing an answer out of Haibara, but given that he was both sweet and loyal, they felt worse about annoying him than about what they saw as simply exacerbating Nanami’s already-present grumpiness.

Satoru looks around, searching for a building that strikes him as someplace a jaded business major would work - he only realizes said business major has already stopped when he shifts his eyes forward again and nearly bumps into him. Nanami speaks after a second, his voice low and gruff. 

“If you guys plan to come in, you’d better order something.” 

Order… something? 

Satoru blinks, the wheels in his brain turning as Shoko makes a noise of interest, her wide-eyed gaze trained on the sign above their heads. 

“Cafe… Solstice? Nanami, you’re a barista!?”

“Not a barista. I… bake.”

“So you’re a baker.” 

“No!”

“Hey, that’s really cool. Can you get us free food?”

Nanami’s eyebrows tug together slightly. He’d been expecting more raucous laughter - especially from Satoru - and fewer (albeit slightly self-serving) words of support. 

“See?! I told you, Nanami.” Haibara smiles, reading his expression, and he tries to contain a sigh.

“Well, then. Please be mindful of your surroundings.” Nanami eases the door open and pauses in front, waiting for the rest of them to walk through, but Satoru, who is quiet for once in his life, doesn’t move.

“Gojo,” he presses, gesturing toward the entrance.  

“Oh, my bad!” Satoru snaps back into action, saluting Nanami in thanks as he enters. Slightly puzzled at his delayed reaction, Nanami gives him a weird look, but doesn’t comment. 

He throws a final warning look at the three - best behavior only - as he makes his way toward the employees-only section, checking his watch to ensure he’s exactly seven minutes early for his shift. Through trial and error, he’s found that this is the perfect amount of time for him to change, clock in, wash his hands, and be in the kitchen with just enough room to breathe. He likes having that little pocket of downtime right before his shift starts, because between his busy schedule and chaotic friends, he rarely has time to himself. 

He passes Geto in the kitchen (though they attend the same university, Nanami realizes now that he’s never asked what his major is) refilling a syrup container and lifts a hand in greeting. 

“Afternoon.” 

“Oh- Nanami! Good to see you again.” 

“Are you feeling better today? You seemed a little out of it last time.” Nanami recalls, with a hint of concern in his tone, Geto’s off-kilter behavior; letting the milk frother run for a little too long, nearly spilling the mug, and generally acting quite out of character for someone normally so composed.

“Ah, yes, thank you. I think I may have been a little under the weather,” he confesses with a small chuckle. “And you?” 

Nanami senses that there’s more to it than that, but he doesn’t pry.

“I see. I’m just fine - however, I should probably warn you that some of my classmates are here on my account. I hope they don’t bother you, but please let me know. Er… one of them has white hair.” He informs Geto of this last detail with a completely straight face, making little hand motions near his head to represent fluffiness. Geto appears to be fighting a smile at first - Nanami can’t imagine why - but as he processes his words, something strange flashes across his face.

“White hair…? Alright, I’ll keep an eye out. Thanks for the heads up.” Just like that, he’s back to normal, waving as he heads back behind the counter, so Nanami returns the gesture and begins to set up for his shift, sanitizing countertops and setting out ingredients with a practiced, comfortable hand. Although he still has a minute before he officially starts, it doesn’t hurt to be prepared. 

Nanami has never been one to prolong unenjoyable experiences; when it comes to school, for example, he’d prefer not to stick around a second longer than he has to. And though he wouldn’t say he loves working, being surrounded by the warm, sweet scent of pastries and cakes makes his shifts at the cafe slightly more bearable than his business lectures. 

-

“Hey, Satoru, didn’t you say you met someone at a cafe too? What’s up with that?”

Some amalgamation of anxiety and shock courses through Satoru, and he nearly falls out of his chair. “Shhh!” He hisses across the table, prompting an eyebrow raise from Shoko.

“Oh? Could it be- is this the place?” She turns to Haibara, her tone as excited as it gets. “Satoru made a friend! Isn’t that nice?” 

Haibara looks innocently confused, but enthusiastic nevertheless. “Wow, really?! That’s great, Satoru! Does Nanami know him? Or her?”

This point gives him and Shoko temporary pause; they blink at each other, almost contemplative for a second, and then promptly start bickering across the table.

“You dumbass, he’s right! What if Nanami tells him what you’re really like?!”

“Don’t act like you thought about it either! And what’s that supposed to mean? I have a perfectly pleasant personality!”

“Ohh, who are you lying to right n-“

“Both of you, shush! You’ll get us kicked out!”

The argument ends as quickly as it started, and they slump back into their seats, exchanging mutual glances of annoyance that quickly turn to those of interest when they hear a new voice approaching them.

“Watch close, Megumi. I’ll show you how it’s done, eh?”

A tall, dark-haired man takes a lazy seat at the table next to them, dangling an arm across the back of his chair. He practically exudes arrogance as he stretches out, and Satoru subconsciously side-eyes him (he is currently sitting the exact same way). 

“Whatcha glaring for, Satoru?” Shoko has the sense to ask this quietly, a smirk on her lips. 

“I dunno. Just… looking at him pisses me off.” He grumbles, searching for the object of the man’s exchange and finding only a slice of cake where a person should be- until he catches a glimpse of spiky black hair protruding from beneath the tabletop, and then a pair of flat blue eyes.

“It’s the third year in a row you’ve pulled something like this. Do you even have money to-“

“Look, kid, don’t worry about that right now. It’s your birthday, isn’t it? Sit down and finish the cake. It’s double-chocolate, your favorite.” 

“What? I told you, I don’t even like sweets.”

“Alright, well, that’s too damn bad.” 

The little boy glares daggers at his father as he picks up the fork, and Satoru thinks to himself that he’s never seen someone eat cake so unenthusiastically. He turns back to Shoko and Haibara after a minute, not sure whether he should laugh or talk shit - because even with his very limited knowledge surrounding kids, he’s fairly sure this is not normal parental behavior. Before the opportunity for either arises, though, something else captures his attention.

“…When did you even buy that?”

Shoko spares him a glance as she swallows a bite of quiche, but ignores his question. “Haibara, you knew Nanami baked stuff like this?”

“Yeah! You just wouldn’t think so because he usually only makes bread.” He explains, happily peeling away the layers of a cinnamon roll. 

“Guys!” 

“Oh, Satoru, which one of the people at the counter is your-“ Shoko begins, cutting herself off mid-sentence when the man speaks again, and they all pretend to be absorbed in their food - except Satoru, who pulls out his phone instead - with full intention of eavesdropping. 

“You done? Okay, watch this.” 

The man picks up the little bakery box and strolls to the front, slamming it down on the counter in front of Suguru, who has just emerged from the back holding a full bottle of caramel syrup. 

 “Hey, I need a refund on this cake.”

Suguru takes a second to answer, replacing the container before turning to the front and folding his arms across his chest dispassionately. His gaze flickers from the man’s smirking face to the empty box of cake on the counter. 

“Sir, it looks like you finished it already.” 

“Yeah, well, it tasted like shit.” 

Suguru smiles pleasantly, and if Satoru didn’t know him, he might’ve thought it was genuine- however, the curve of his mouth is tight, and his eyes are narrowed in annoyance. Satoru stops scrolling through his settings app for the fourth time and glances at the man’s son, who is still seated inconspicuously at the table and appears to be on the line between disgust and resignation as his father’s actions begin to draw the attention of the few customers in the cafe. 

“Hey, kid. How old are you?” He whisper-yells. The child looks him up and down impassively, and Satoru tries not to show his offense at the judgment in his gaze. 

“Seven.”

Satoru’s eyebrows shoot up, and he glances back toward Suguru.

“…I’m afraid we’re not able to issue a refund in this case.” He’s explaining calmly. 

“Huh? Megumi, c’mere! Tell ‘em the cake sucked.”

Megumi tenses, but doesn’t move, and Satoru feels an uncharacteristic surge of annoyance that pushes him to his feet and into the action.

“Hey, what’s the problem?” He asks the customer lightly, inadvertently drawing both of their gazes.

“…Satoru.” Suguru sounds mostly unsurprised, but his undertone shifts from irritated to gracious. Satoru flashes him a wink before turning back to the apparent con artist. 

“Look, man, if you need me to-“ 

The door to the back swings open abruptly, and they all freeze. 

“What’s going on here?” 

-

Nanami pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out an irritated exhale. “Gojo got kicked out?” He repeats disbelievingly.

“Yeah, but funny enough, it wasn’t even his fault this time.” 

“Hah! Well, that dude did too.” Satoru smirks, apparently pleased with the way things worked out. 

“He seems… happy about what happened.” Haibara notes as he watches him stroll along the sidewalk, making Shoko scoff. 

“Please. He’s just on cloud nine because Suguru smiled at him.” 

Satoru whirls around accusingly. “Suguru?! Since when are you guys that close?”

She lifts an eyebrow delicately, tucking her hands into the pockets of her coat. Her breath forms a cloud of steam in the cool air. “We’re not. I just asked Nanami for his name.” 

“That was quite the reaction, though, Gojo.” Nanami comments dryly, and Satoru splutters for an excuse before finally turning away to avoid their knowing gazes. 

“You know, Satoru, you’re less insufferable nowadays.” Shoko comments, a hint of amusement in her voice. 

“Sh-shut up!” 

[mochikage]

📓 please we need the nanami baker au 🥺👉👈

ahhh thank you so much for playing <33

i don't want to give you a 1/2 booty answer because i did kind of go into the idea here but I'll explain a little more~

Nanami would visit his favorite little bakery every day/every other day for lunch. He appreciates the quality and care that the baker (you <3) put into every one of his orders. He doesn’t have a sweet tooth, but he always stalls by the goods in the display to admire how mouth watering they look. Gojo would love this place, but the last thing he wants is for the annoying giraffe to find his safe haven. 

Maybe he stalls to order just to watch you work, maybe he stalls to escape the chaos outside and enjoy the peace and solitude your shop offers. He never thought he would get attached to you so when someone else starts taking his order, he can’t help but ask where you are. He learns your schedule that day and goes when he knows you’re working, but of course it’s only because you add a special little touch to his order <3 

He often entertains the idea of what it would be like to date you. What it would be like to come home to you in the kitchen (only because you love it sm, he drinks his respect juice) with a meal cooked for him. He’s forced to confront his feelings when Gojo visits the shop one day and starts flirting with you OR if someone has cursed the bakery (and Nanami finally admits to himself that life is too short for him to hold off on getting what he really wants). 

#ask #??? game #i think this is the one i'm most excited for #at least top 3 #nanami x reader #nanami + vanilla mochi

[miekasa]

anyway. back on my regency/royalty au bs…. thinking…. nanami whos so handsome he gets scouted by one of your knights as a potential husband and you have to laugh bc you know nanami, the very nice baker youve made friends w from your trips into town…. tangled au w inumaki (he’s rapunzel)….. snow white au w eren except he’s your butler and true love but you’re supposed be engaged to someone else…… you’re the princess who married goio and every week there’s someone breaking in trying to take him out even tho he was a commoner before this and it’s getting exhausting….. levi’s the prince and you’re his knight who just fought (and basically won) a war and now you’re the one getting marriage proposals and he’s not happy about it <33

#mie.txt #ok but can u imagine gojo trying to enjoy his snack in the garden and he just yells #‘hellooo mister archer over there!! if you’re going to shoot can you do it already!! i’d like to eat my grapes but i have to get rid of u!’ #i really could do this all day pls