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gojonanami · 6 months

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FIVE TIMES NANAMI WANTED TO PROPOSE BUT DIDN'T - NANAMI KENTO

✴︎ summary: nanami wanted to propose to you so many times - but it was never the right time, and then, there was no time left. ✴︎ contents: 18+ only, swearing, ANGST (major spoilers for jjk 120 (probably next week's episode, character death, exploration of grief, if you wish to avoid the major angst: stop reading after part 5), SMUT (fingering (f! receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), panty sniffing, semi public sex, nipple play, creampie, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms), pet names (love, sweetheart), happy ending (sort of?) ✴︎ wc: 10,121 (i have a problem) ✴︎ song: the archer - taylor swift (blame laney for this)

One.

The first time Kento Nanami wanted to propose to you shouldn’t count.

And it won’t because it was when he first met you — enrolled into Jujutsu Tech along with the other first years, he first laid his eyes on you at a welcome party that the soon to be menace to his sanity, Satoru Gojo, had organized. Well, he could thank Gojo for one thing it was introducing you to the room — because he may have had to find the words to ask you himself. And he didn’t know if that was possible with his tongue in knots.

But he managed to talk to you — mostly with Haibara leading the conversation. You were reserved, at first, but he saw the spark in your eyes whenever you spoke about something you were passionate about — reading was one, one thing you both shared a love for.

“Yeah hauling my books to Jujutsu Tech wasn’t an easy feat, I had to ask Geto-senpai to have some of his cursed spirits help me haul it up to my dorm,”

“By the way, you still owe me lunch for that,” Geto smirks as he slips past, and the flush that settles on your cheeks is one Nanami wanted to see — again and again.

“Aren’t the upperclassmen supposed to buy lunch?” You grumble, pouting as Gojo interjected himself, resting himself on your shoulder with his arm, making you jump.

“Not here, here the kouhais earn their keep,” he grins, tilting his glasses down, “can you?”

And Nanami opens his mouth to reply, irritation creeping over his senses, before you brush Gojo off, “I’ll buy you lunch, but next time, if that’s what it’s gonna cost me, I’m going to have you two haul my books by hand up those steps,” You stick out your tongue, before your arms curl around his and Haibara, “let’s have cake,” you smile at both of them, gaze lingering on Nanami, “and we can exchange book recommendations?”

That was the moment he wanted to propose — could see himself living in a home with you, filled with both of your books lining the walls of a personal library, but your living room as well. He could see himself falling asleep beside you as you read to him, your fingers carding through his hair.

But no, no, it was irrational, he chided himself, as he talked to you, his lips curled in a smile that had damned him from the moment he saw it. He just had met you — he had barely been ever moved by another person, much less fallen in love. And it shouldn’t happen this quickly — it only happened this quickly in books — not in real life.

But you — he watched you and Haibara chat and laugh — you were someone that might just be the thing of books.

~~~~

Two.

The second time he wanted to propose, he didn’t care to remember.

And he barely did.

He remembers the facts of the mission. It was supposed to be simple — exorcise a grade 2 curse, simple enough for him and Haibara to handle by themselves. Not that they had a choice. Jujutsu Tech’s resources were already far too spread thin — Gojo himself being sent all over Japan and even overseas to handle things himself that no one should be able to. But their mission? It should have been simple — dangerous still, but simple.

But nothing was simple when it came to curses.

He remembers sensing the curse — the manifestation had frozen him and Haibara for a moment — their bodies taut with fear and adrenaline — but they couldn’t move. Even as the cursed spirit screeched before them, he couldn’t articulate what was happening — it was supposed to be a grade 2, it was supposed to be a grade 2, but no — this was a grade 1.

And then it struck — Kento barely had enough time to react, but he did, pushing Haibara out of the way when it did.

He didn’t remember much after that.

He remembered the squelch of Haibara’s flesh, the blood seeping through his clothes, the way his body crumpled on the ground, and he remembered the next moment was the first time he landed a black flash — stunning the curse enough for him to grab Haibara and escape.

But not enough to save him.

Haibara had made him promise if anything had ever happened to him — he would make sure his sister wasn’t recruited to Jujutsu Tech. And he had to make the call to his family — he couldn’t bear the thought of some higher up taking advantage of their grief to manipulate another into their clutches.

No, he couldn’t let that happen.

And now he sat in the morgue with his body, towel covering his eyes — Geto had come and went — and now he sat waiting for the body to be examined and taken away to be burned. Burned to ash with nothing left — that was the way all sorcerers bodies were disposed of. It was if they never existed in the first place - pawns in a never ending war that would have them piled like corpses on a sacrificial pyre.

What was the point?

Haibara had always told him — if there was something only he could do, he would do it. And for him it was jujutsu — but wasn’t there something else? Something else for him to do that didn’t let him up like this? A body on a metal slab waiting to be incinerated. What was the point?

Was there even a point? People lived and people died. He had lived and Haibara died, but he didn’t know why. Why or how do people live one day and disappear the next? He had seen death before but not of someone so close — someone so precious to him. And the chaos was too much for him. To be killed by another’s twisted feelings manifested into a monster — it was almost poetic if it wasn’t so fucking tragic.

“Nanami?” And he pulls the towel from his eyes, and sees you — your eyes glassy and red tinged — tear streaks you didn’t hide well left on your face, “Nanami—“ and you don’t know what to do with yourself — as you come to him, hesitating, “can I—“

But he’s the one pulling you into his arms, nearly into his lap as his fingers dig into the fabric of your jacket, “I’m sorry — I’m so sorry I wasn’t there—“ your voice breaks, and it’s enough to break him — he hadn’t really cried, not around another person, but tears well at your words, as your fingers card through his hair.

“You have nothing to be sorry for — I’m the one—“ and his voice breaks in turn, as the words stuck in his mind going round and round, until they were nearly had shattered his sanity and skull along with it, “I’m the one who couldn’t save him,”

And you pull back to look at him with tear stained cheeks, “that’s not your fault, Nanami—“

“How is it not?” His words are laced with more venom that he wishes them to be, a little more bite than he wished to chew, and the hurt in your eyes was enough to make him regret speaking altogether, “I’m so—“

“No, it’s not your fault, Kento,” and his eyes find yours, your lips twisted in a frown, and your gaze unwavering, “I know a part of you knows that — knows that…Haibara’s death is nothing but a function of this shitty system we’ve been funneled into. Nothing more. Nothing less. And you know,” your voice grows softer, “you know Haibara wouldn’t want you blaming yourself for this. You know what he’d say?” You almost chuckle, “he’d tell you not to sweat it. To keep going. That you got it, right?”

He gives a terse chuckle in return, shaking his head, as his head tilts into your chest again, “How do we—“

“I don’t know,” you murmur, you don’t need him to say more, “I don’t know how we do this without him, but we have to. We have to for him,” and your hand cups his face, tilting his chin up so he looks up at you, “together?”

And he wants to ask you then — ask you to marry him. He doesn’t know when he would get a chance. You were the only thing that made his life make sense — the only thing that made him feel okay, feel safe, for once. He was so tired of never feeling that way. And he had just lost the one other person who made him feel that way.

He knew you wouldn’t say yes. You couldn’t. You were both so young still, still reeling from Haibara, still stuck in this system that could kill either of you at any time. But still…wasn’t that all the more reason to do it?

But as you pulled him into another tight hug, he knew he wouldn’t last much longer in the Jujutsu world. He couldn’t — he couldn’t take another loss like this. He didn’t know if he could bear it. But as his tears wet your jacket, surrounded by you — your scent, your soft breath, your warm presence — he would try.

He would try for you. And his eyes slid to Haibara’s body covered by a sheet — and for him.

~~~

Three.

“After graduation, I’m leaving,” it was a late night, a couple days before graduation that he told you. The soft pitter-patter of rain was the only thing heard from int the silence before he spoke. You laid on the foot of his bed, reading a book, while he sat cross legged at the head of it, his eyes fixed on you.

Your gaze lifts from your book, brow furrowed in confusion, “Leaving?”

“I can’t be a jujutsu sorcerer,” his words are as plain as always, “I can’t do it. I’m going to go to college and pursue some other line of study—“

And you sit up slowly, putting your book aside, and he expects protests, expects you to convince him otherwise, expects you to try and stop him, but all you ask is one question, “are you sure?”

It catches him by surprise — as you always seemed to. He could anticipate enemy attacks, analyze their next moves five steps ahead, plan three routes of escape, and even predict what garbage will come out of Satoru Gojo’s obscene mouth, but you — you always could surprise him.

“I am,” he finally answers softly, “this society is shit, you know that. And these past few years have shown me that the difference I make isn’t worth the toll it’s taking, especially when I’m not changing anything,”

“Kento, you do make a difference,” your fingers find his, intertwining with ease, such ease he can’t help but think that’s what it was meant for, “you do — even if you can’t see it, I just want you to know, you do. For the people you help, even if you don’t see them, for the other sorcerers you inspire, and for me,”

And he chuckles, “even you?” And you roll your eyes, pouting — the same pout that makes him want to lean over and kiss you until your lips are utterly ruined.

“Even me,” you toss a pillow at him, and he catches it with ease, and you scowl playfully, “y’know i’m gonna miss you, but I’m not gonna miss that,”

“What? My quick reflex—“ and you smack him with another pillow and giggle, the noise making his lips quirk into a smile even as you laughed at him, hands covering your lips.

“What was that, Mr. Ratio? Your quick—“ and he’s tossing a pillow right back smacking you in the face, making his lips curl in a rare grin (though not so rare when he was with you—“

And you pull the pillow off, your face grim, “Oh, it’s so on—“ you’re tossing a pillow, but it’s only a diversion as you lunge for him, assumedly to mess up his hair, but he’s caught you by the wrist, his other hand around your waist as he’s gotten you pinned to the bed.

Time stops.

He’s breathing heavily, and you are too — from the rise and fall of your chest, but he can hardly hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears. Your lips part as you look up at him — you’re dressed in your sleep clothes, a thin tank top and shorts — and it would be so easy to lean down, let his palm slide under his shirt. He sees your eyes flicker down his body the same — climbing back up before pausing at his lips.

It wasn’t a good idea. He was leaving. You both were graduating. Who knows when he would see you again — yet, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. Not when this is what he wanted for so long, when he wanted you for so long. But maybe he should — maybe it would be easier, he couldn’t ask you to leave Jujutsu Tech. Just as you couldn’t ask him to stay. He knew you would stay to honor Haibara’s memory, to carry on his legacy — the one thing sorcerers could do for their fallen comrades.

Sometimes the only thing.

And sometimes it was the only thing they couldn’t do.

“Kento—“ your voice pulls him from his reverie, as your fingers brush against his cheek, “are you going to hover over me forever, let me go, or…” and your teeth graze your lip, “are you going to kiss me?”

And he’s blinking, cheeks most assuredly flushing, as your fingers graze the back of his neck, and his mouth is dry, as he looks down on you.

But he doesn’t need to asked twice, as he leans even closer, delighting in how your breath catches, looming over him, “do you want me to kiss you?” And the telltale quirk of his lips makes you gape at him, drawing a laugh from him.

“I hate you,” you murmur, as his lips finally brush yours, swallowing those playfully bitter words with them — and your lips are even softer than he imagined, your fingers settling themselves on the back of his neck, brushing the hair that rested there.

And when he pulls away; his heart squeezes at the sight of your kiss ruined lips parted as you pant slightly, eyes fluttering open to look up at him as if to ask why did you stop? And he can’t help but smile.

“It’s too bad because I love you—“ the words slip from his mouth — but he doesn’t regret it. How can he? When he might not get another chance.

And he thinks his heart will stop at your silence again, the pitter-patter of raindrops ringing in his ears again, before your lips finally curl.

“You love me, huh?” You’re leaning up and kissing him, lips finding his again and again — and how is it that he’s already addicted? You taste like honey, and sunshine, and something headier — sending heat warmer than liquor throughout his body that only made him crave more of you, and you finally pull away, and you’re smiling, “good thing I love you too,”

And he can’t believe his ears, he can’t believe you love him too — all these years he thought it was one-sided, that he was deluding himself with all the times your fingers found his, your eyes met across a classroom with a smile, and the times he found himself falling asleep next to you all those nights neither of you wanted to be asleep, your arm curled around his.

But you did. You loved him. And he loved you.

And as your lips met again, he knew, he knew he still couldn’t ask you. Couldn’t ask you because he knew you maybe wouldn’t say no — and he couldn’t ask that of you. Not when it wasn’t what you wanted. Not when he knew you could do the good he couldn’t bring himself to do. And you would — because you were the best person he knows.

He loves you. And therefore he had to let you go.

But — as he lingered over you on his bed, his body hovering over his as he dragged his thumb over your red, puffy lips, before leaning down for another kiss —

He didn’t have to let you go this second.

~~~~

Four.

It’s years before he sees you again.

It wasn’t purposeful. Not exactly anyway.

It was just easier. Easier not to have to think of you still at the place he once was. Still fighting the same curses he would have been fighting with you. Still risking your life day in and day out. While he…he only had money to worry about. To think about. To obsess about.

Money. Money. Money. Money.

How was this somehow shittier than what the jujutsu world? He had considered going into a more humanitarian profession, but when his goal was to retire early, why waste time? If he wanted to help people…he glances at his phone — the one vice he allowed himself, a picture of you that you had sent him when you got promoted to Grade 1 saved as his screensaver — he could have stayed by your side.

No, he wanted to retire. Find himself a nice place to retire to — he hadn’t decided the exact location yet. Somewhere peaceful. With nothing but beaches and sky and sand and books for him to read, to reclaim his life page by page. But to get there — he had to slop through this shit work — making the rich richer.

The same in the jujutsu world, and the same here as well.

And it was one day after he had exorcised a curse from his favorite bakery’s worker, he had felt anything good — anything remotely good — in far too long. Your words rang in his ears — you make a difference.

Was he making a difference by lining the pockets of the rich? Maybe his sorcery wouldn’t change the world, move minds or hearts, pivot the course of history — but maybe he could have his own impact. And not feel like complete shit when he woke up every morning.

And he wouldn’t — he knew he wouldn’t — if he could just see you smile again. Even if he could just see you again. He pulls out his phone, staring at your picture. And maybe…maybe even more.

“Hello, Gojo? I’d like to return to Jujutsu Tech,” and he hears laughter on the other end, “why are you laughing?”

“Kento?” You drop the pen you’re holding, as he steps into your office. And your lips are parted in surprise, your eyes fixed on his, “what are you—“

“I’m coming back, to Jujutsu Tech, I’m going to be a sorcerer again,” and he knows what you’ll ask, he knows you’re going to ask why — you’re going to ask him if he’s sure. And he doesn’t know how to tell you except by saying it’s because of you.

But you don’t say anything, your chair screeches back as you get up, clattering backwards and suddenly as you’re running into his arms. Your face is buried in his chest, and he can feel the tears against his shirt, and his arms curl around you, fingers running through your hair, “I missed you so much,” you murmur, and then you look up at him, fingers tracing his cheeks, gingerly moving his glasses away, “you look tired,”

“I am, but I’m better now,” he’s murmuring — and how is it that you send him right back to where he started, right back to where you always send him. It doesn’t even take a touch — only a glance, a whiff, a second — “I missed you too,” he adds, “a lot,”

And you push him playfully, pouting up at him, “Could have fooled me. You barely ever called or texted me all these years. You talked more to Gojo than you did me,”

“That’s only because that flippant idiot won’t stop calling until I pick up,” he grumbles — Gojo was the last thing he wanted to talk about in his moment — his fingers caress your cheek, tracing the line of your cheekbone, “I wanted to talk to you — I did, I just, I knew if I talked to you, I might say something I’d regret,”

“And what would you regret saying to me?” You raise an eyebrow, and his eyes are sliding away from him.

Asking you to come see him, asking you to leave Jujutsu Tech for him, asking you to be with him — every question that he wanted to ask, but never could.

“It’s not important—” and your hand cups his cheek guiding his eyes back to yours, and he knew you weren’t going to let this go, “If I talked to you, I knew it would end one of three ways — one, I’d ask you to leave Jujutsu Tech; two, I’d come back to Jujutsu Tech; or three, you’d ask me one of these yourself — but I knew I couldn’t do that,”

And your brows knit together, “Why not?”

“Because it had to be our own decision — I couldn’t leave and you couldn’t leave, just because the other asked,” he murmurs, his gaze softening, “it wouldn’t be fair to either of us — or the other — to feel like the only reason we’re together was because of guilt or want for the other, not for ourselves,”

You consider his words for a moment, “I would have left if you asked me,”

“I know, and I would have come back if you had,”

“But we didn’t,” and your fingers cup his face, “you remember what I said to you that night that we kissed?”

And he swallows the lump in his throat, his heart rattling against his chest, “You said, you didn’t want to go further because it would only hurt more when we had to go our separate ways,” and your hand slides up his chest slowly, the other already resting against his neck, and his find their way to you — one hand holding your waist and the other cupping your cheek, “but we’re not separate anymore, are we?”

“I hope the wait was worth it,” you smile, as both close the gap, lips meeting again and again — and you taste the same, but even better somehow — and he’s only pulling you closer, lips curled in a smile so wide that he hadn’t felt in so long, so long.

“Always, when it's you,” he murmurs against your lips, before his lips begin to trail kisses down your jaw and then your neck, his teeth brushing against your pulse, pulling a gasp from your lips, “good girl,” And he feels your knees buckle against his and he’s walking you backwards into the edge of your desk, “is anyone left on campus?” and you’re shaking your head, your eyes flitting to the door, as he makes you sit on your desk, thighs parted for him to settle between.

“The door—”

“Locked,” he replies, drawing back only a moment to take in the image before him — your lips red and ruined, chest rising and falling as you look disheveled at best, sexed at worst, and your eyes — your eyes swirled with lust, half lidded and desperate for his touch— “didn’t want any interruptions,”

Just as he was.

His fingers draw up a strand of your hair and kisses it, and your lips part, “Kento, please—”

“Please, what, my love?” his voice is low and teasing, as his fingers peel back your jacket, pulling it off your shoulders, “you’re going to have to be more specific,” his lips find your neck, soft, wet kisses that has your body leaning into his, “I’m not a mind reader,”

“But you are a tease,” you pout, and he only smiles, leaning down to do the thing he always wanted to — he kisses the pout off your lips, moaning lightly when your lips part for his tongue, his hands dragging down your sides, as your fingers loosen his tie, “I think you will be doing overtime with me today, Nanami-Sensei,”

And he grunts, as your fingers free him of his tie, joining your jacket on the floor, “I’m not going to be a teacher, just a sorcerer,” his teeth graze right under your chin, nibbling, “so you’re the only sensei here — are you going to teach me what you’ve learned the last few years?”

And you toy with the top button of his blue button-up, “Oh, I’ll teach you, Kento,” and you’re starting to undo his buttons, as he busies himself undoing yours, “the question is whether you can handle it,”

“Beautiful,” he murmurs in reverence, and his fingers finally undo the buttons, sliding your shirt off your shoulders, eyes raking over your chest — sharp blue gaze lingering on the erect nipples poking through the fabric for your bra, “You’ve always been the one thing I can’t handle,” his mouth leans down, closing around one clothed nipple, while he teased the other with his fingers, and he delights in your gasp, the noise sending heat right down to his already aching cock, “but I’m willing to try, my love,”

“You still love me?” You murmur, as he shrugs off his own shirt, perfect abs teasing into a v-line, all this muscle hidden under his business attire — and you knew he still must work out, and he did. He did in case he ever needed to come back — come back for you.

“Who says I ever stopped?” His nose buried in the nape of your neck now, as his fingers teasingly snap the strap of your bra, “you smell so good, so perfect,” and his fingers undo your bra and it joins the pile of clothes growing on the floor, “there wasn’t a day I didn’t think about you — a night that i didn’t dream of you, that I didn’t want you,”

“Kento—“ you whimper, as he tugs at your skirt, a quick glance for your nod, and he slides it down your legs, bunching at your ankles until you kick it off. Your cheeks burn as he’s kissing your way down your body, his mouth teasing the other nipple he had neglected, trailing hot kisses down your stomach, until he reaches the fabric of your panties, “I need—“

“Been wanting to taste this for so long,” and he’s kneeling between your parted thighs, still calloused fingers parting your plush flesh, tongue flicking over his dry lips at the sight of the dark wet patch at the crotch of your underwear. And you look down at him, eyes glazed over with unadulterated lust that is almost enough to have him cumming in his pants, “so sweet,” he’s murmuring as he noses your clothes cunt, and you jerk, as he pulls the crotch aside, “wonder if you taste as sweet as you smell,”

“Kento—“ and his tongue drags over the length of your dripping cunt, nose bumping against your clit, as your thighs curl around him, pulling him closer, closer — “fuck—“

“Such a filthy mouth,” he tuts, smiling against your cunt as his tongue teases your folds, “almost as filthy as you are down here,” and his finger begins to part your walls, making your thighs shake and quake, his lips close around your clit, sucking.

You’re a mess of moans and pants, hips grinding against his touch, as one hand tries to muffle your moans, the other is curled in his blonde locks, “taste even better than I imagined — just f’me, only for me,” You’re so close, as he parts your folds with another finger, sinking knuckle deep, as his fingers brush against that one spot that has you parting your lips in a silent moan, head thrown back — and the heat deep in your stomach is going to snap.

KNOCK KNOCK.

You both freeze, your cunt jerking around his fingers, as you bite your lip — maybe if you’re silent, they’ll go away— but Kento clicks his tongue, a smile on his glossy cum covered lips, mouthing, “Speak,” and you gape at him, chest still heaving, as you shake your head, before he’s curling his fingers just right.

Fucker.

You hear Gojo’s voice, calling your name, “You in there?”

You swallow thickly, meeting Kento’s gaze — he’s not backing down, “Yeah, sorry I’m in the middle of something — do you need something?”

“I was just wondering if you heard from a certain salaryman, or should I say, ex-salaryman?” the very one that was burying his face back in your still sensitive pussy, slurping and licking, despite Gojo being right outside.

You have to bite back your moans, swallowing them as you speak, “You mean Nana—ah—mi?” And you feel the very same sorcerer smirk against your abused cunt, a third finger finding its way inside you, “ha-haven’t heard from him, and what do mean ‘ex?’”

You do your best at acting, but it’s hard when his mouth closes around your clit, sucking hard, as your fingers curl in his hair, biting your lip so hard, as he fucks your pussy in earnest with his fingers — how can Gojo not hear the nasty squelch of your cunt?

“He left his job. He’s coming back to Jujutsu Tech,” and he takes a beat, “I’ll take my leave,” and he chuckles, “have fun you two, and Nanami?” You feel your face flush, “don’t be too rough with her — we need our best teacher available to teach tomorrow,”

You hear his laugh all the way down the hall, and you’re covering your face — those fucking six eyes — but Kento’s tugging your hands away, “Pay attention to the one who’s filling you, love,” and he’s burying his face in your cunt, fucking you even harder — hitting that spot over and over, until you cum, back arching, as he’s pulling his fingers out to lap up the slick dripping from you, “delicious,” he murmurs, kissing your still sensitive clit, before he’s looking up at you — all fucked out, your chest rising and falling with every pant, your lips kiss ruined red — “and so beautiful,”

His licks his lips clean of your cum, wiping the rest with the back of his hand, as he rises to your feet, “Kento, please,” you’re murmuring, his hands slide over your body, squeezing your hips, “I need you,”

“What do you need—“ and his words are cut off by your fingers reaching for his buckle, the clink of the metal as you undid it, along with the button, tugging his pants and boxers down.

He hisses as his too sensitive dick slaps his stomach, your lips parting, eyes in a trance, “So pretty, Kento,” your fingers traces one of his veins to his already leaking tip, “and so fucking big,” you murmur, teasing the bead of precum on his slit, making him groan, “can’t wait to have this inside me — been waiting ten years,”

And he’s sliding your hand away, pressing his hips flush to yours, as your legs wrap around his waist, “That long huh?” And his lips find yours again, letting you taste yourself, “and I thought I was the only one pining,”

“So you admit you were pining for me?” And he laughs, as you smile up at him — like all the times he had hoped you would — “I had a crush from almost the moment I met you,”

“You could have fooled me,” he presses kisses up and down your jaw, drawing a moan from both of you as he teases your puffy clit with his aching tip, “I thought you had a crush on Geto,” and you scoff.

“Geto? So you were jealous of him — that’s why you always had that sour look whenever I studied with him,” you grin even wider, “well you had nothing to worry about - I had a crush on very gloomy boy and no one else ever caught my eye,”

And he softly smiles, and it seems to ebb away the years — the trauma and the tiredness — and left only him, your Kento.

“Is that right?” He asks before kissing you again, his fingers finding the back of your neck to deepen the kiss, as you moaned, muffled by his mouth, “I want—“

“I know, me too, please — don’t keep me waiting any longer,” and how could he refuse a request like that?

He’s sinking into you, thick cock parting your dripping folds until he hilts himself fully in you, his fingers digging your hips — and you’re so full, too full. And you’re perfect — perfect walls wrapped around him, so warm and so tight — it’s enough for him to neatly blow his load then and there.

But he can’t, can’t when he’s waited this long to do this. You’re whimpering, “S’good, Kento, too good,” your walls flutter around him as his hips shift lightly, “please, please move—“ his hands find your legs, lifting them higher to find a better angle, fingers digging into your soft thighs.

And his hips slowly thrust into you, edging you with his shallow thrusts, and you’re whining, “Kento—“

“Look at the mess you’re making all over your desk,” he’s guiding your gaze with two fingers on your chin, making you watch where his cock is sunk into you, “taking me so well, practically swallowing me, good fuckin’ girl,” he grunts, “want it harder? Want me to fuck you?”

Your desk is already creaking under your weights and the movements, you’re nodding wordlessly, lips parted, “Kento, please, I need—“ and you watched his cock pull out only to slam back in. Your head falls back, moaning his name again and again.

The squelch of your cunt rang in his ears over and over, as he grunts, barely keeping himself from cumming, especially when you begin to roll your hips into him, “You’re so pretty, and all mine — just mine,” and his lips find yours again, just as your walls flutter at his words, “like that? Like it when I claim you, love with my cock fucking you?” And his vulgar words only makes you tighter, and he grunts, “‘m close, sweetheart,”

“Me too—g’nna cum—“ and his dick reaches that spot right as his thumb bears down on your clit, teasing it in circles, until you’re moaning his name as you cum. Your walls clamp down, soaking his cock, a white ring of cum around his base as he fucks you through your orgasm.

His eyes meet yours as you do, watching your high overcome you, twitching and moaning — and he doesn’t last much longer. His hips stutter against you in shallow thrusts until he’s notching himself deep inside, groaning as he cums, hot seed painting your walls white.

“So perfect,” he murmurs, as he kisses your sweat slicked forehead, “so good,” and he’s grunting as he pulls out, watching your mixed releases trickle out, leaking all over your desk and onto the floor. He drags his cock over your weeping cunt, watching it flutter around nothing.

“Kento,” you murmur, gazing up at him, utterly blissed out as your lips curl, your legs slipping off his waist as he settles down on your desk, “I love you,”

And his heart squeezes — is he dreaming? He must be dreaming — because nothing in his life has ever been so good. So wonderful. So perfect. It didn’t happen for him — it never happened for him.

“I love you too,” he murmurs reverently, his fingers trailing over your jaw, “so much — you don’t know how much, darling,”

“Think you can quantify it for me, Mr. Salaryman?” And he snorts, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Don’t call me that,” he kisses your neck — you smelled so good, were you real?

“Then what should I call you?”

And he wanted to ask you then — ask you to call him your husband, to marry you, to buy that ring he had looked at from time to time when he thought about marrying you. But you just found your way back to each other — hell, he had just slept with you in your office, not even a bed. It was too soon, but — his lips curled — he was closer than he had ever been before. And he wouldn’t wait, he wouldn’t hesitate, not when it was you. He wouldn’t let you slip through his fingers.

He smiles, “Just call me yours.”

~~~~

Five.

Today was the day.

He was finally going to ask. That’s what he thought when he looked at you, still in bed, bathed in the dappled sunlight let in by his parted curtains. You were still fast asleep beside him, body curled up so your body was pressed against him. He ran his fingers through your hair gently not to wake you, “I love you,” he murmurs, as opens his bedside drawer, pulling a ring box and notecard from it — and he stares at it.

He’d ask you. He would ask you to marry him — finally take you on that vacation to Malaysia you both had talked about for too long, read all the books you both had put off, and lounge on the beach — and do much more in your hotel room. And then maybe, maybe he could ask you to retire from jujutsu.

He had always promised himself, promised that he wouldn’t be a sorcerer when he got married. He couldn’t bear the thought of leaving a family behind to mourn him — but even more than that, he couldn’t bear the thought to lose you, to call you his wife, call you his soulmate — and have you fall away from him.

He would rather be the one to die.

But this way — he rises, grabbing his clothes for the day, and slipping the ring and the note into his coat pocket — neither of you would have to worry about losing the other. At least to a curse.

“Where are we going?” You giggle as he drags you along the street, packed with people, more than usual. He keeps you close, an arm wrapped around you, especially for a Wednesday evening. What date was it? He had seemingly lost track of everything he had planned.

“It’s Halloween,” you remind him without him asking the question, “explains all costumed people and the packed streets — we should definitely avoid Shibuya — the crowds there would be insane,”

“How’d you know—“ and you tap his forehead with a smile.

“I could see your gears grinding, Kento,” you smile, resting your head against his shoulder, “and it’s just like you to forget it’s Halloween,”

“Is it?” he chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “well good thing I have you to remind me,”

“Very good thing, and I have you to remind me about everything else,” and he nods, and you elbow him, “you don’t have to remind me of that much!”

“You were leaving the house yesterday and you forgot your wallet, keys, and purse — you almost forgot to put on shoes—“ and you’re covering his mouth his your hand.

“How about you remind me about where we’re going?” And he smiles against your hand, before kissing it gently, pulling it from his lips and kissing the back of your hand as well, making you flush.

“Why ruin the surprise—” and then both of your phones ring — the two of you share a dark look, glancing at your phones and seeing the same message — Emergency: veil has fallen over certain areas of Shibuya. All available sorcerers report.

“I guess we are going to Shibuya,” you sigh, running your fingers through your hair, “we should—”��

“We should stop by the apartment — we both left all our equipment there and I need to change,” and you nod, as his fingers toy with the ring box in his pocket, a sigh stuck in his throat. When will he ever get the chance to do this right? Finally, he had worked up the nerve and this—this had to happen.

“Hey,” you cup his cheek, a soft smile on your face, “I’m sorry our plans are falling through, and just when I was going to make you give up this secret surprise,”

His lips curl, as his arm pulls you even closer, “I don’t recall agreeing to give up any secrets,” and you lean up and kiss him, soft and sweet quickly turning heady — neither of you were ones for public displays — but for some reason, it just felt right. And you part, breath warming his lips with a wide grin.

“Oh, you would have,” and he laughs, squeezing your hips, as he rests his forehead against yours, “We’ll pick this up right after we deal with this problem.”

He nodded, leaning down to kiss you again and again, his fingers still toying with the box in his pocket. And he wanted to ask right then, just drop to his knee in the middle of this packed street full of costumed weirdos and freaks, mission be damned, jujutsu be damned — but he didn’t want to do it like this.

He wanted it to be a time where both of you were safe, where you could celebrate without the fear of danger beating down your necks, where he could talk to you, hold you, kiss you — without fear it would be the last. Because he always wondered when it would be the last. But it wouldn’t be — he’d do anything to make it back, to finally take that step with you, the one he’d been waiting for over ten years to take. Take that vacation you both wanted with his ring on your finger, and retirement from Jujutsu around the corner.

And he squeezes your hand, “Promise?” and you lean into him, pulling him along the street back to your shared apartment.

“Promise.”

~~~

He wouldn’t be able to keep his promise.

That’s what kept repeating in his mind with every step he took. He couldn’t really feel much — not anymore. That special grade curse had burned him — burned half of his body to a crisp, he could barely smell the burning flesh anymore. All he could do was keep moving. Moving. Moving. Moving.

But he didn’t want to move anymore — he was tired. So tired. He couldn’t feel much, but he could feel the weight of having to keep going, even if he didn’t want to.

And now, he stands before a swarm of…curses? Transfigured humans? He didn’t know — he could barely see at this point out of his one remaining eye — he could barely keep it open, still drooping even as the monsters loomed before him.

“Malaysia…Yeah, Malaysia…Kuantan would have been nice,” the recommendation he had gotten from Mei Mei when trying to decide on a vacation for you and him to take — who better to ask than the woman with all the time and money in the world, a little brother who’d take her anywhere she wished. You both had settled on Malaysia, still panning out the details of when, but he had planned to surprise you with open ended tickets for the both of you — paid extra for them, in case something came up.

He almost chuckles. Something always came up.

Maybe if you both had liked it enough, he’d have a private home built for the two of you — with the little library nook you always dreamed of having, finally getting around to reading the countless books you both had bought and never read, go through page by page and take back the time you both have lost.

But right now each step felt like an eternity as he walked.

Where was he going again? Oh yes, to help Fushiguro. And what about Naobito and Maki? What had happened to them? There wasn’t much he could do about that.

Tired. He was so tired. I’ve done enough, haven’t I?

Hadn’t he done enough? He thought he had done enough when he left — left it all behind like a nightmare he didn’t care to revisit. Left the loss, the pain, the anger — the curses really — all behind him, in exchange for another set — greed, money, power. What was really the best option? Had he made the right choice?

But then he thought about you.

Your smiles, your touch, your kisses, your laughs — all the times he spent with you — slow mornings spent reading the paper together over coffee and toast from the bakery you always went out of your way to buy his favorites from; lazy evenings spent watching movies or reading, your legs intertwined as you did, his arm around your shoulders, until you plucked the book from his fingers made it so you were only thing his eyes were on; and sleepless but perfect nights spent in each other’s arms. The many times he wanted to ask you — the one question he never got to ask you still burned on the tip of his tongue like a curse unspoken, and he knew if he spoke it now, it would be one.

And so he did what he did best, he dispatched the curses, quick and easy. And his lips curled despite himself — at the thought of you. He could almost feel your lips on his still from earlier, the sweet scent of you instead of the smell of blood or burning flesh, he could almost see you too.

A hand rested on his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

Mahito stared back at him.

Oh. Oh.

It was over.

I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry I can’t keep my promise. I’m sorry I can’t propose. I’m sorry I can’t marry you. I’m sorry I can’t have the life we wanted. I’m sorry I came back only to leave you with the worst curse of them all.

“I didn’t know you were here,” Nanami says, staring back at the curse — and it reminds of that time — that time Mahito had him in his domain, he truly had resigned himself to death. Resigned himself to die — and then Itadori had come crashing in, crashing in as he did his life, saving him. Saving him by not only by his very existence as Sukuna’s vessel, but by just his sheer strength.

That kid had really grown on him — he didn’t want him to. Not when he had the same positivity, the same smile, the same kindness…as Haibara. It was illogical. He wasn’t Haibara — he was Sukuna’s vessel, and he wouldn’t acknowledge him, he wouldn’t until he proved himself. But he’d protect him, and he would do what he could. Because being a child isn’t a sin — but perhaps, being a jujutsu sorcerer is one.

“Yup. The whole time,” Mahito replies, lips upturned in a slight smile, “Wanna chat? We go way back, after all,”

Nanami’s eyes shift to the floor, the muddied and bloodied tiles underneath his feet — he didn’t care to divulge his deepest feelings to a curse. There were only two people he could talk to about this — and one of them, he supposed, was now closer to his being than the other.

Haibara, what the hell was I trying to do? He asks in his mind, not even daring to say the words aloud, I ran. Even though I ran away, I came back with the vague reason of finding the work worthwhile.

And then he sees him. Haibara appears in front of him, patented smile on his lips, as he points south — points right at—

“Itadori,” Mahito says, his eyes narrowing.

“Nanamin!” his eyes wide as he takes in his state — oh, he had hoped no one would see him like this, much less Yuji. He had already been through so much, so young — hell, he had already died once. He didn’t deserve to see this. He didn’t deserve to grow up like this — to have his youth ripped away. But, did any of them deserve it?

It was a marathon, a marathon that they found themselves in that headed only towards a pile of corpses — but each time, they had to pass the baton before they stopped.

Could he finally stop?

He had dropped his baton so long ago, dropped and left the track, but he knew it would be picked up by another and another and another — but it was his baton, his baton that Haibara had handed him before he died in his arms.

No, Haibara. That’s not right. I can’t say that to him. It’ll just end up becoming a curse for him.

But it’s a curse every jujutsu sorcerer had to bear — made to bear until there were either no curses or no sorcerers left.

But he couldn’t regret it now.

“Itadori,” his lips curl, smiling for the last time, “you’ve got it from here.”

He couldn’t keep his promise to you — but he kept his one to Haibara.

And you’d pay the price.

~~~

This wasn’t real. Was it?

You stood outside your shared apartment with Kento. Finally a stop to the fighting for a month for everyone to train — enough time for you to retrieve some cursed weapons you had left behind — not knowing the fight would drag on for this long. You had considering sending someone — maybe not Ijichi but someone else to retrieve them, but right now, you couldn’t bear the thought of someone else rifling through Kento’s things. Moving the things that he had placed just so — the last remnants of his life, the marks he left that proved he was there, that he lived — that he had lived.

Lived. Past tense. And now you were still living — living in a world without him.

You inserted your key and turned the lock, opening the door. And it did, just like it had every day. Each day you’d open it — sometimes before Kento, other days after — but each time, there was always a meal Kento had prepped or bought waiting for you.

And this was the first time that there wasn’t.

Not only a meal — there was no one waiting for you. Not here.

You closed the door behind you — no longer a home, just an apartment. You needed to remember the things you needed, your mind was nowhere to be found, and fled the country when you had heard the news. You didn’t cry. Not at first.

Yuji was the one to tell you. He shouldn’t have been the one to see it. You knew it haunted his dreams, you knew he blamed himself, you knew — because Kento had done the same. So you hugged him, let him cry silently into your shirt, comforted him the best you could — because you knew that’s what Kento would have wanted.

He loved Yuji — he loved Ino too, and the other students all held a special place for him, but Yuji — Yuji was a special case. You knew that from the moment he had spoken about him.

“Gojo wants me to mentor Sukuna’s vessel,” he told you one night in bed, having returned from a mission and having a drink with Gojo — not a real drink, Kento had clarified, since it had no alcohol in it — but a drink nonetheless.

“He has a name, Kento. Itadori. He’s sweet,” you smile, you had met him and all the other first years from teaching, “he’s a good kid — very new to all of this, but he has a good heart and some good skills under his belt.”

“A vessel for the ticking time bomb has a good heart? Glad to hear it,” he sighs, running his hands through his hair, “I don’t know — he was a normal kid two minutes ago, and now he’s running around with Gojo feeding him Sukuna’s fingers every second,” he leans back against the headrest, “what am I supposed to make of this? I’m not even a teacher,”

“And what have you been doing with Ino?” you raise an eyebrow, “that kid is constantly after you, dogging your every step — he looks up to you. “And I know a lot of the other students do too, the ones that know you,”

“It’s—”

“You should do this. It would be good for you,” and he’s hesitating, “Yuji needs a sorcerer to guide him — teach him the basics that Gojo has neglected to do, and show him how a proper jujutsu sorcerer who isn’t…a special case like Gojo, operates.”

Kento’s lips curl, “You know you can call him a moron,”

“Why call him that when I have you to call him that for me?” you snort, “now what do you say?”

And he eventually agreed — and it was the best decision for him. It gave him more purpose, more drive — he seemed even more fulfilled — the most you had seen him professionally fulfilled in quite some time.

“You got it from here.”

His last words to Yuji. You almost have to scoff at the poeticness of it all — the same words Haibara had told him. The ones he hadn’t told you for nearly a decade, until one night he had told you what he said.

“And why didn’t you leave any words for me, Kento?” you ask the empty apartment before you, “for so long, we didn’t have each other — we couldn’t. And we finally find our way back, we finally do all the things we said we would — you’re gone, again,” your voice breaks, “I wish, I wish you were here. I wish I could see you. I wish—” and you break off.

There’s no point for wishing for things that can’t happen. You had things to do, and little time to waste. You needed to get stronger too. You needed to be useful. You needed to fight. You couldn’t tarnish Kento’s memory, or — you look at a picture that you had taken of him and Yuji a few days before outside a convenience store you had stopped by after a mission — his legacy.

You searched for the things you needed, placing them in cloth bags and then paper bags for easy and inconspicuous transport, but you needed to label them. You searched your apartment for a pen — but apparently you had misplaced every single one that you had — where the hell were all the pens? A question you’d usually ask Kento and he’d produce one from thin air. No matter what you lost or what you needed — he had it.

He always had it.

If he did always have what you needed, then maybe…you walk into the bedroom, over to his nightstand — he often kept a notebook for thoughts and notes in his bedside table so maybe—-

And there it was — a pen, but it wasn’t the pen that made you pause — it was the two things beside it.

A notecard and a ring box.

A ring box.

Your hands shake, and you almost want to close the drawer. Forget you say anything. Continue with the work you’re doing. It would hurt less.

But you can’t. You can’t.

You reach for the notecard first, fingers shaking as you gingerly pick it up — and you can tell this wasn’t the first he had written on. You could see the indentations from his pen, this card underneath the others as he had wrote. But his handwriting was neat, yet messy at the same time — his patented half print, half cursive scrawl that he hadn’t left.

Your legs buckle and you sit down on the edge of the bed — the side he used to sleep on, his arm wrapped around your waist, face buried in your back, his lips brushing against your skin when he finally stirred. And now it was empty.

My love, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to ask you this. I’ve thought of ways to ask for years — I had to write it down just so I didn’t mince my words or ramble — you know I’m not one to drag out conversations. I love you. I’ve always loved you from the moment I met you — I know you’d tease me for pining for you, but I did pine for you and I’ve pined for you every second we’re apart. The other times I’ve wanted to ask you, the timing never worked out. But we have the time now, don’t we? Will you do me the honor of being your husband? I’ll spend every second making you happy, because that’s what you deserve, sweetheart. Only the best.

And your tears splatter against the corner of the card, before you put it down, as you let your sobs overcome you, screams you didn’t know you were capable of making— you didn’t even realize it was you, until your throat began to ache.

Why? Why? Why?

It wasn’t real, this wasn’t happening.

And your fingers reach for the ring box now, opening it only to feel more tears well — it was the ring you had showed him. One you had showed him one late night when it had showed up somewhere or another — you hadn’t even thought about the ring again. Until now.

You can’t bear to touch it. You can’t. Not when he wasn’t there to pull it from its box and slip it onto your finger. And he never would be. Not until you saw him again — one way or another.

You snap the box closed, tears slipping down your cheeks as you placed the box and card back into the drawer — noticing something else underneath — a printout? And you pull the papers out, scanning it.

You almost sob. A trip to Kuantan, Malaysia. The trip you two had talked about for months, but never had gone on. The trip was more for Kento than it was for you — and it was for you, in a way, because what you wanted the most was to just be with him. Time was all you wished for with him — all you wanted — but you knew you could have spent every moment with him for the last ten years and it wouldn’t have been enough.

It would never have been enough.

“I miss you,” you speak to the ghosts that fill your mind and haunt your dreams — Kento and Yu, “I hope you’re at peace. I hope you’re lying on a beach somewhere, reading the books you wanted to read, drinking an expensive drink, and eating the bread you love — I promise, I’ll find my way to you, someday,”

And you place the things back in the drawer, and shut it.

For now, you had other things to do. Other people to protect, other curses to exorcise. But — you stare at the picture of the two of you on your nightstand — his love was the one curse you could never give up.

Many months later.

You take that vacation he wanted. Packing the books he always wanted to read. Pocketing the ring he wanted to propose to you with. You’d pack a few shirts of his to wear on the beach, and maybe he would be lying beside you in spirit. You would find that beach he wanted to take you to — the one he had written down and had looked up several times while booking your trip.

You kept the seat beside you on the plane empty but you ordered a glass of wine and a sandwich for him regardless. You know you would have ended up ordering because he likely would have fallen asleep — old man he always was. And if you didn’t know better, you’d think he was sitting in the seat beside you.

He wasn’t dead. Not really, you think as you sit in the beach in one of his deep blue button ups thrown over your swimsuit, reading one of his books page by page, taking back the time that was stolen from him with your own — minutes and hours and days you’d wish you could take off your own and give to him.

He was alive, he was alive as long as you were, as long as the people who he was important to were alive. And he was alive — alive in your head and your heart and your very soul.

You read his proposal aloud as the sun sets, tears slipping down your face as you slip his ring onto your finger. And there it would stay.

Stayed all the seconds, minutes, hours, days, and years you lived -- lived in the house you built in Malaysia when all was said and done for you in the jujutsu world, just as Kento had wanted. Stayed until you finally saw him again. Saw him standing beside Haibara, softly smiling behind him, as your eyes fluttered open as he greeted you. Lips curled in that same smile that damned you from the moment you saw it.

“Don’t keep me waiting, love,” he smiles, the same words you had said to him, “we’ve both waited long enough, haven’t we?”

But neither of you had to wait anymore — as you run into his arms, warm and made of flesh and blood and real, so real — you had forever now.

✴︎ a/n: first, i'm so sorry lol. i don't know how the spirit of gege possessed me but i decided to inflict some pain. i have to thank @laneysmusings for proofing this for me and having to endure this pain. I also want to credit @/tempenensis for their post on haibara / jjk 120 that helped inspire/inform the third to last scene (but they don't like self-insert so i am not gonna tag them, but you should check out their tumblr!

✴︎ taglist: @your-local-simplol, @renawithane, @grooveandshit, @aemondseyesocket, @nitskilanara, @yunchans, @ackermanbby, @luminouslateralup, @multi-fandom3, @idktbhloley, @minteaful, @malleusmybelovedd, @lighttism, @lemonpoppy-seed, @nitskilanara, @wshwshi, @rreborn, @reyy-chanx, @kiradoki, @uroldall, @madam-milf, @elusivemoon

#sab [mlist]#nanami kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami smut #kento nanami smut #kento nanami x you #jjk smut #jjk x reader #nanami fanfiction #kento nanami angst #jjk angst #nanami x you #nanami x reader

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blkkizzat · 16 days

Text

'SINS OF THE FATHER'

PRIEST!NANAMI X READER

✟ the liturgy: (summary) Even the most pious of men succumb to temptation and Father Kento is no exception... especially when it comes to you. (Priest!Nanami POV) ✟ the confession: (tw) dark themes, sacrilege, adultery, blasphemy, jealously, exhibitionism, blackmail/manipulation, heavy biblical references, cunnalingus, fingering, riding dick, shoe fucking, blow jobs, panty sniffing, olfactophilia, dacryphilia, lightly suggested altarboy!yuji (aged-up) x reader, oil tycoon!gojo x reader, suggested mentions of reader x other jjk men, corruption, masturbation and angst as you are literally tormenting this poor priest (lol). ✟ the sins: (wc) 4.1k ✟ the opening rites:(a/n) i grew up catholic (got confirmed too) and went to catholic school but haven't stepped inside a church in literal years. i was honestly surprised how many bible references came so easily from pure memory while writing this.

Sanctified conviction radiates off Father Kento as he approaches the inordinately adorned wood carved pulpit with authority to address his congregation.

Despite the uncomfortable Summer heat there is no lack of attendance, a sea of familiar faces packed into the small town chapel. The buzzing song of cicadas and soft oscillation of the large fan circulating humid air through the church are the only sounds heard as the masses eagerly await his homily.

You were among them of course.

Sitting front and center– a small saccharine smile graced your lips while your doe-like eyes, captivated and attentive, were made even bigger as they raised to the podium to meet his own.

Bible open, Father Kento takes a full breath pause before he finally speaks, his gaze is benevolent yet his voice is firm as it projects over the congregation.

“Dear Brothers and Sisters– Let us reflect on the gospel of First Corinthians Chapter 10 Verse 13…and The Lord says– ‘There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man—”

Oh but you– you were anything but common– and irregardless of any higher standing his status as a clergy member bestowed upon him he was still a man of flesh and blood.

No matter the effort exerted, Father Kento had been unable to keep his eyes from yours during the service. The magnetism of unknown and certainly unholy forces drew him to you time and again without fail.

No beauty in town rivaled yours, not with an angelic countenance that complemented your delicate features so gracefully in your every action.

Yours was a form of divine femininity rivaling that of Venus herself.

If that wasn’t beguiling enough, your honeyed voice and syrupy words had the ability to sway even the most feral of temperaments. Leaving those who heard it at your mercy like a gentle but deadly siren.

“—but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able—”

Is God faithful?

Ironic how you had Father Kento questioning the very foundations of his own faith while simultaneously indoctrinating God’s dogma to his faithful parishioners.

If you were a test he had failed.

Many times.

Even the first man, Adam, had fallen to Eve’s allures and not even the warrior strength of Samson was able to overcome Delilah’s seductions.

Who was he to prevail where the biblical idols had fallen?

What actual grace could God give man against the sensual temptation that he had carved from man’s own rib?

Father Kento had felt forsaken of God’s grace ever since you had approached him after mass to quietly request the rites of confession. He should have refused when you kindly solicited him to perform them in the cooler confines of the secluded rectory over the oven-like heat of a chapel confessional box in summer.

Led astray so effortlessly by your genial charms as you looked to him like a lamb lost and addressed him so meekly as “Father Kento”. He would have just as easily given you access to heaven then if it were in his power.

Yet it was you who had so graciously led him to the gates of Zion— which so conveniently happened to reside in the velvety depths between your thighs.

Consequently, the only sins that were confessed in the rectory that day were the moist squelches of your peach-ripened pussy gushing around his cock and coalescing with the frenzied sounds of hot flesh slapping together in unison.

A child of Lilth incarnate to be sure but you looked so pure and celestial, even in ecstasy.

Hair matted to the sides of your face drenched in sweat while your nimble hands clutched onto his clerical collar. Your eyes filled with such loving devotion and you rode him earnestly as if it was your life’s penance.

Father Kento in turn gives you his absolution by taking you from behind. The swell of your plump rear rippling against his hips and shared fluids splashing onto his hard abdomen feverishly drive him closer to God than he’d ever been.

Yes, he is weak.

But Father Kento held the conviction that not even The Vicar of Christ, the Pope himself would be able to resist the vice grip of your silken cunt as if its true purpose was never to bear life but to wring out the very essence of the soul of man.

He’d fallen prey to a day-walking succubus on hallowed holy grounds.

No– Father Kento was certain if this church had ever truly been blessed as a house of God you would have caught aflame the moment you graced its threshold.

“—but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye are able to bear it’.”

Father Kento concluded the passage. Nonetheless, neither it nor any other doctrine had provided him the solace of escape and nor biblical strength did he receive to endure against his temptations.

There was no resisting you.

There was no escaping you.

For anyone you cast your sights on.

This is exemplified by the obvious effect you have on the young alter boy Yuji.

Barely old enough to be called a man, the youth's entire body flinches whenever you spare a sweet glance in his direction.

Has Yuji’s innocence already been stolen?

Father Kento must quell the inkling of jealousy at the thought lest he stumble over his words and shame himself further.

He was a man in every sense of the word and a man of the cloth, he would not compete for your adulterous affections with his own altar boy.

Even so, Father Kento’s lip does curl in disapproval at the deep flush of guilt on Yuji’s cheeks. Yuji clumsily trips over his own feet, nearly permitting the blessed vessels for the rites of eucharist to fall to the ground.

Harlot! Have you really allowed someone other than himself to bathe in the sins of Jezebel?

Maintaining composure through his sermon, Father Kento reminds himself that an inexperienced youth is no threat.

However it is more than likely Yuji– who normally is so oblivious in nature– had likewise become aware of the wicked exhibition of sacrilege occurring beneath the prayer cloth in your lap at the very hands of your own husband– Satoru Gojo.

“So you may ask where does that leave us as followers of Christ? Temptations lure us into doing, saying or thinking something that does not reflect who we really are as sons and daughters of God.”

Neither you nor your husband were Christ’s children so none of these ideologies applied to either of you.

Nefarious philistines the both of you– godless and immoral.

Although Father Kento was for certain your husband, Oil Tycoon, Satoru Gojo– was the only one whose deeds could put yours to shame.

The white haired devil had descended upon the quiet small town like a thief in the night to greedily capture the first few drops of black gold that surged from the earth before it could even fall to the ground. Quickly buying up land and resources, in less than a fortnight Gojo essentially had control over the entire town– its priest included.

But as he became more wealthy, so did the town and its people. Satoru Gojo built up the town around him to match his own gluttony for opulence, taking the town and its people away from simple old time comforts and into the more complex modern age.

Therefore the man was seen as a saintly savior, rather than the lecherous leech he truly was.

To Father Kento’s credit, if he deserved any at all– he had initially held strong in his faith.

He was not a man tempted by the power that would come from a promotion to bishop if a larger church was built. Nor was he tempted by monetary gain. The treasures he had always held most valuable were only those to be found in God’s kingdom.

Familiar with the tricks masked by flamboyant arrays of grandior, Father Kento’s folly had been his own headstrong vainglory in being a man above the lures of temptation. Thus he failed in recognizing you as the seductive snake in sheep's clothing the cunning tycoon Gojo had sent to be his undoing.

And you had never once failed to unravel him.

Even now Father Kento struggles to keep himself together as you inconspicuously lean against your husband, your head resting gently on his shoulder while the dainty fan you are holding obscures the lower half of your face.

What appears as an innocuous attempt to halt the perspiration rolling from your nape into your heaving bosom is merely a front to hide the sinful ‘o’ your cherry lips form.

Your chest softly heaves although your labored breaths aren’t from the humid heat shrouding the church– but the increasing warmth dampening in your loins. All which had been provoked by your husband slipping two fingers through the buttons of your thin sundress and into your pussy, lightly teasing its gooey folds. Gojo’s movements are mostly concealed by the cloth but Father Kento can make out the skillful circular motions stroking your spongy bud and causing the sporadic twitch in your knees.

You had writhed similarly under him. You were always far too sensitive.

Fat tears would never fail to pour from your bright eyes when he would latch his mouth onto your sex. You would be his last supper if ever given the choice. If heaven had a flavor it would surely be akin to the taste of your pink candied cunt and he knew of no sweeter treat on earth.

Twas no wonder then how Father Kento easily loses all sense of self when flicking his tongue into your gaping slit. Swirling the appendage within your gummy walls he gluttonously slurps down the steady stream of your flowing nectar.

Your mewls and cries for him are far lovelier than even the song of cherubim. Father Kento has committed them to memory and as such he knows when they reach a certain octave– your pitch so high it's practically soundless– you're nearing your nirvana.

Arriving at your peak you would thread your hands through his blonde locks and thrust your hips forward as if his mouth were salvation itself. Your manicured nails would dig into his scalp to rock his head deeper into your plump pussy. The actions would beckon his tongue to finally give you its mercy by dragging it flat up your folds to suckle and nip at your swollen clit.

You never called on God then.

Nor your husband.

Only Father Kento.

Coincidentally, Father Kento’s gaze locks with Gojo’s for a brief moment and Gojo’s pale lips curl into smirk.

A fleeting look is shared before contact is broke but the message is clear:

Satoru Gojo own’s everything in this town.

Gojo owns your cunt.

Your cunt owns Father Kento.

Therefore by proxy Gojo owns him.

The revelation has Father Kento showing the white of his knuckles from the intensity of his grip on the pulpit podium as you simultaneously release a silent scream brazenly cumming on your husband’s dexterous fingers in the middle of mass.

“The time now is propitious for us all to make a journey of conversion, led by sincere faith to allow ourselves to be confronted with the Gospel. Let us confirm this commitment by sharing in The Body and The Blood of Christ.”

Proceeding with communion the altar boy Yuji stands next to Father Kento holding the tray where the blessed chalice of wine and platter of thin wafers reside as the congregation dutifully exits their rows to receive the eucharist.

As it is the more modern way to receive communion the majority of the congregation choses to place their non-dominant palm up over the other to respectfully receive the host. Yet traditionally, the priest placed the blessed wafer directly on the tongue of the one receiving. This practice was typically only seen by the elderly, the most exceedingly pious and of course— you.

When it is your turn to approach you beam brightly as you and all your beauty seem to float before him.

“The Body of Christ.”

Father Kento raises the host before you.

“Amen.”

You obediently replied.

Like expected your eyes fluttered to close as your pillowy lips parted in order to accept the host directly in your mouth.

God help him, this was the most sacred part of mass but the way your deviant tongue lulls out hot and thick with your saliva pooled on the edge and threatening to spill onto your lips has Father Kento shifting at his post.

You look just as compliant and yearning to receive as when you had been on your knees before him taking his cock in your mouth whole.

Father Kento delicately placed the host in your mouth in a similar fashion as to when he would tap the tip of his bulbous leaking cockhead onto your tongue.

So willing to please you kiss his angry red mushroom tip to appease his cock, swirling your tongue over the tiny hole before puckering it between your lips to greedily suck any drops of pre that dribbled forth as you pumped his base.

You were a tease.

That much was evident both then and now as you extended the tip of your tongue to caress the tip of his finger. A tiny kitten lick, but nevertheless a tingle ran through his cock in remembrance.

“The Blood of Christ.”

Father Kento presents the wine symbolizing the blood before you.

“Amen.”

Again you closed your eyes and allowed Father Kento to press the chalice against your parted lips.

The very picture of amenability, you actually enjoyed when he went rougher on you as a result of your teasing. Father Kento would gather your hair into a tight grip as he not-so-gently rammed his cock past your tonsils and down your throat.

It was unnatural and ungodly for a person to lack any semblance of a gag reflex such as you.

In response you pressed your fingers into his thighs– not as a means of resistance, but to control your own lust as you began shamelessly humping your mound against his leg. You were always desperate to feel any small sensation against your cunt while he ravaged your mouth.

Of course, Father Kento would oblige you and in turn he is rewarded with the heavy moans that would vibrate around his cock as his oxford loafer pushed up into your soaked core. Your white lace lingerie did little to contain your juices and as such Father Kento made use of the fluids leaking from your pussy as polish to shine his shoe.

Having sipped the wine from the chalice you peer up at Father Kento as if seeking his approval.

He gives you a small nod.

Similar to the one he bestows upon you after his seed has filled your stomach and you lick your lips as if it was his essence and not The Blood of Christ that lingered on them.

In the beginning, he had prayed long and hard to forget those sinful images of you that would intrude unwelcomed into his mind.

Yet you always had ways of sucking him back in.

Such as leaving your soiled panties stuffed between his headboard. Father Kento thought he was going mad when even after changing the sheets thrice was he still plagued with your smell.

He should have burned the offensive garment as soon as it was discovered and yet he treated it with reverence as if it were a holy object of salvation. Truly an euphoric experience, on days he couldn’t have you he’d bury his nose into the fabric murmuring blasphemy as he worshiped the very scent of you while jerking his cock.

When Father Kento finally ceased trying to resist you he then had the fleeting thought he could save you. Bring you to God and away from your villainous husband.

But you were no Mary Magdalene, there was no returning you to the flock.

You will not leave your husband who provides you wealth and security. Father Kento is not so enamored he holds illusions that extend beyond his reality. There is nothing Father Kento owns and nothing he can offer you but himself.

The singular consolation of the tragic circumstances is that Father Kento is sure you prefer his touch. The touch of a seemingly pious man who only has desires for you.

Unlike your scoundrel of a husband who Father Kento was sure had not remained faithful to your marriage bed. Not the way most of the female townsfolk threw themselves at Satoru Gojo. If he had no qualms using you to achieve his means he certainly had none for himself.

You were simply a pawn to be played, as was Father Kento.

“Before we depart I leave you with these words: Let every day be a new day to renew the promises of our Baptism: We renounce Satan and all his works and seductions — for sh– *ahem* HE – is the seducer. Now go forth, Brothers and Sisters and remain true in the light of God.”

The closing rites over, Father Kento has never been more relieved nor eager for the conclusion of a mass. Watching the congregation mingle in the entrance, he gives his farewell blessings to the parishioners.

A few still remained however you were nowhere to be seen.

This was not odd, the Gojos were a busy couple, likely excusing themselves immediately to attend to more important affairs.

Or so he hoped.

“There you are, Father! Riveting service, as always.”

With a devious grin and a firm drawn-out handshake Gojo greets Father Kento. Turning to face the devil himself, Father Kento greets Satoru in turn with a strained smile and an even firmer grip.

Yet still he is unable to show you any of the wrath you justly deserve and Father Kento’s smile is more genuine when he faces you.

You regard Father Kento coyly as your husband’s arm tightens around your waist. Your face is flushed and it’s evident you are still weakened from the orgasm your husband gave you earlier in front of the entire congregation.

That knowledge though is only held by the three of you, God and perhaps the altar boy Yuji.

Father Kento had never known you to be silent when cumming so the exertion of the effort you expended likely weighed heavy on you as displayed by how you are clinging to Gojo to keep from swaying on your feet.

“Thank you. I am but a humble messenger of The Lord’s wor–.”

“– Wait. Hold that thought!”

Father Kento’s eyebrow twitches as Gojo's attention is momentarily called elsewhere.

Every Sunday, a growing number of parishioners would seek Satoru Gojo’s greeting and recognition after service over that of their priest Father Kento.

True to character Gojo makes an obnoxious show of charisma which leaves the last group of parishioners fawning and singing his praises as they exit.

“Forgive me, Father. Where were we? Ah– Of course! Yes, you are quite excellent in your delivery of God’s word, a true testament to your faith!”

His flattery is so obviously false in its sincerity that Father Kento is not surprised when Gojo’s sordid smirk returns.

“But you are not only a messenger for The Lord… isn’t that right, Father Kento?”

Father Kento warily clutches onto the large cross dangling from the rosary around his neck as Gojo continues.

“I’ll need you to spread mine as well. Haven’t you heard? I have plans to run for Mayor.”

Mayor.

The diabolical fiend truly knew no limits in his quest for control over the town.

“I’ll need you to come over to dinner tonight to consult with the rest of my top supporters.”

Father Kento steeled himself..

There was nothing he could do to stop Satoru Gojo from being mayor but his infatuation with you aside, he could not walk straight into the lion's den to collude with heathens.

It would be the final nail in his coffin, Gojo would indeed own his soul.

“Oh! Y/N is prepping a feast too… aren’t you, angel?”

Gojo’s grip on your waist trails lower to palm the fat of your ass and you clutch on to him tighter as you nod eagerly in agreement, biting your lip as his large hands knead into your cheeks through your wispy dress.

Your body is ever responsive to Gojo’s touch just like he trained you to be.

“I must refuse. I have duties here to attend, I couldn’t poss–”

“P-Please F-Father…”

And just like that your delicate voice cuts through his iron defenses like it were warm butter.

“…K-Kento, p-please come!”

Your request fumbles out of your lips as a cry as Gojo’s devilish fingers dip past your ass to prod at your cunt.

“You heard her Father. She wants you to come. Break bread with us, you will be among friends. Friends who know how to share, yeah? I’ll even share a piece of her cream pie for dessert.”

That had been the final straw. Gojo had gone too far this time.

You seeking him out was one matter but he would not allow Satoru Gojo of all people to dangle you in front of him like a master would dangle a treat to a dog.

“Begone, you foul heretic. I will not tolerate your mockery of me, this church nor God any longer.”

Commanding in his tone, Father Kento extends the cross of the rosary forward to Gojo as if he were casting a malevolent curse back down to hell.

Father Kento doesn’t have the courage to look at you though, he can’t. Not if he wants to take a triumphant stand against Satoru Gojo.

And so Father Kento closes his eyes and silently prays.

Immediately bored at such a devout display, Gojo sighs rolling his eyes.

“Alright, alright, Father. I get it. Whatever you say, jeez. It’s not like I need your support to become mayor– just thought it would be nice is all. ”

Father Kento remains silent as he listens to both of your footsteps exit the church but not before Gojo stops at the doors, his cheerful voice taking on a dangerous edge.

“Heh, you know, not everyone in this town is as pious as you Father. Sheriff Fushiguro has never been one to turn down a stack of bills but I’m sure tonight he would enjoy sharing in Y/N’s creampie if you don’t.”

Father Kento’s eyes open to flash red with fury.

Having received a satisfactory enough reaction from the priest, Gojo grins wildly as your own eyes widen in shock at your husband’s words.

Has Gojo only ever used you to manipulate him alone?

The thought remains as Father Kento doesn’t miss the pleading gaze directed at him from over your shoulder as you are led out of the church.

Goddammit– He couldn’t let you fall into the brutish clutches of Toji Fushiguro.

Toji may have been the sheriff but he was well-known for his oafish demeanor and greasy womanizing ways.

NO! He mustn’t think of you any longer.

Father Kento needs to clear his mind of you for good with prayer.

Prayer and solitude.

Deep prayer and extensive solitude was what he needed if he ever hoped to rise again to gain God’s favor. He needed to call upon The Lord’s strength one last time to remain at the parish tonight and defy Gojo’s will.

Father Kento couldn’t let the pleasures of flesh continue to manipulate the very fibers of his being in such a way.

The rosary still in his grasp Father Kento raises his hands close in prayer as a final call for God’s mercy… and then it hits him– wafting off his fingers, overwhelming his senses and igniting every nerve in his being.

The scent of your cunt.

The lingering perfume of your sinful drippings spilled on your husband’s hand during mass had been transferred to his own when Gojo shook his hand and held it so firmly.

The bastard.

The rush hits him hard and he feels dizzy as his ears begin to ring. Vertigo overtakes Father Kento as he holds the offending hand out as if he had been poisoned.

Leaning back against a wall to gather himself, Father Kento realizes once the manic pounding coursing through his veins begins throbbing in his loins that he’s fated for damnation.

This is the moment he’d always dreaded although ironic with the simple acceptance of it he feels no despair.

Father Kento’s conviction is finally clear as he is left with a singular truth that rang through his entire soul:

Whatever solace he would know, whatever peace he would have in this life, he would only find with his cock buried in the sweet embrace of your cunt.

✟

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

✟ the closing rites: (a/n) hell is hot and it's surely my destination after writing this. i tried to leave it a little ambiguous to whether y/n is actually in-love with nanami or just a sex-crazed slut eager to use him at the request of her husband. i don't have a pt.2 planned just fyi as this is meant to be a oneshot. although i do need to write more nanami so i will take requests for him! but fair warning i am very slow i apologize.

also shout out to the amazing art i used for the gfx ✟ art by mishwell

✟ REBLOG to be unburdened of your sins by Father Nanami but likes and comments are also appreciated!

upcoming: the nursery (yakuza!toji), please teach me! (ceo!gojo), request: teasing choso (college au), request: sukuna x blkreader, [none in any order as im at the mercy of my adhd lol]

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kairiscorner · 5 months

Text

don't be shy. – nanami kento x spouse!reader

🥖 genre: a delicious loaf of suggestive ~

🖋️ word count: 339

💭 summary: your sweet husband's noticed you staring at him after his shower... he won't deprive you of what you want, however.

🍥 author's note: i need him .

he runs a veiny hand through his sopping wet blonde hair as he clutches the towel wrapped around his waist. the droplets of water on his broad chest dripped down his toned body, falling onto the floor of your shared bedroom. he looks over at you on the bed, mindlessly scrolling through your phone; he wonders what dinner tonight's gonna be, what you'd like to eat, or if you'd be in the mood to stroll downtown to discover new restaurants to eat at.

"love, what would you like to eat tonight?" he asked you with a raspy voice, turning to look over at you, still clad in only a bath towel. your eyes drifted from your screen to your husband, standing before you, half-naked. your eyes grew wide, and your face heated up–you kept forgetting how much of a sculpture your beloved look like. "love...?" he repeated, moving over to your side, the shorts he was going to wear in his hand. maybe he knew just what kind of effect he had on you, maybe he was just teasing you by not putting his boxers on yet and giving you a closer look.

your eyes remained fixed on his rippling abdominal muscles, as well as the towel wrapped around his waist. if you could only rip that towel off your husband... he wouldn't need to ask what dinner would be, he's on the menu tonight. "dearest..." he whispered, placing his thick, bony fingers under your chin, bringing your eyes to look up into his own honey-brown ones. "my eyes are up here. but what you're looking for... he took your hands in his own, leaning closer to you, and placing your hands onto his sculpted abs. you gasped, your fingers twitching at the touch, making a chuckle escape from underneath his breath. "...is right here in front of you. don't be shy, take it, my beloved."

looks like he's gonna let you ravish him for dessert tonight... dinner can wait, but your loving husband doesn't seem like he can.

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colonelarr0w · 2 months

Note

NANAMI PLEASE OH MY GOD

like wow nanami with a s/o that falls asleep after using like 200% of her cursed energy after a rough mission!

Sypnosis - Being a sorcerer wasn't easy, but your husband would be there no matter how worn out you may be.

Warning(s) - canon JJK violence, NANAMI BEING DOMESTIC ASF, uhh I don't know does fluff really need warnings...?

A/N - Don't worry everyone, Nanami is 100% safe and enjoying his retirement in Malaysia with his little wife, it's okay.

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

“Darling? Is that you?”

You can’t find it in yourself to answer your husband’s gentle call, eyes struggling to remain open as you stagger into your shared apartment, hands bracing themselves against any solid surface in the hopes that you would be able to scoot yourself towards either the couch, or better yet, your bed.

Your latest mission had been one of the toughest yet. Taking on a Special Grade curse entirely on your own wasn’t a simple feat, even for a sorcerer as skilled as yourself. The overexertion of your Cursed Energy left you utterly exhausted and craving sleep — it was the hardest you had pushed yourself in a long time.

You try to blink the exhaustion from your eyes as you finally make it into the living room, eyeing the empty couch with a borderline hungry glint to your irises. Your palms are cupped over shallow wounds on your body, fingertips lightly touching the various scrapes and bruises that you had received from the Special Grade Cursed Spirit. In honesty, you were lucky to leave in the condition you were in — many other sorcerers would have had gashes and fatal lacerations.

Staggering towards the couch, you all but collapse onto it, burying your face into the pillows and turning your back to the rest of the room. Your eyes easily fall shut, body slumping into a comfortable position. Within seconds, you’re snoring on the couch, dead to the rest of the world.

“Darling?”

Quietly, Nanami enters the living room, having been worried at your lack of a response. He’s just about to call out for you again when he notices you asleep on the couch, your back turned to him with your shoulders rising and falling in deep, relaxed breaths.

His lips turn upward in a gentle, loving smile — and in three steps he crosses the room and gently kneels down at the edge of the couch. He reaches a hand out, finger stroking your spine and prompting you to turn to face him, awoken by the soft touch.

“Hi,” you whisper sleepily, blinking slowly at Nanami. He smiles at you, waiting for you to turn completely before he speaks to you.

“Hello. How was your mission?”

“Tiring.”

He hums in thought. He can see the telltale signs of your exhaustion painted onto your face — your sunken eyes, the eyebags just underneath your usually bright irises, the soft paleness to your skin. Nanami’s hand shifts, his finger stroking lightly against your cheek. You nuzzle into his touch, biting back a yawn.

“Missed you though.”

Nanami’s heart warms, his smile widening ever so subtly.

“I missed you too darling. But you should rest,” he scolds you gently, removing his finger from your face and already shifting to stand up. Your hand flies out, fingers catching the sleeve of his shirt and momentarily stopping him.

“Stay?” you offer, lifting the blanket that you had haphazardly thrown over yourself. Nanami chuckles, shaking his head at you before taking a step forward, carefully slotting himself against you on the couch. He lifts your body, settling you on top of his chest and tucking your head underneath his chin.

You sigh in content, already feeling your eyes growing heavy again. Nanami’s fingers against your spine only relax you more, his fingertips dragging up and down over your skin. “I love you.”

You smile sleepily, squeezing at your husband affectionately. “I love you more.”

#colonelarr0w #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami fanfiction #nanami kento fanfiction #nanami x reader #nanami fanfiction #nanami kento #kento nanami

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mikareo · 4 months

Text

“ ࣭⸰ ★ 1:04 AM . . . nanami kento (0.5k)

contains; nanami x fem!reader, established relationship, timestamp, extremely suggestive (but it's sfw) author's note; i found this in my docs from 2021

nanami kento is a dreamboat.

he gasps at the slightest touch of your hands, your fingertips grazing his navel—reaching below the hem of his sleeping shirt and pulling it up and over his head. the fabric is nothing but a loose garment in respect to the events that are about to take place; events that you’ve looked forward to since the moment he’d spoken his first words to you— that silly little order of coffee you’d never forget…not that you’d ever even want to forget a single second of time at his side.

“please,” nanami murmurs against your lips.

he surges forwards again and again in attempts to get closer to you— to feel your warmth and reside in it until the sun rises over the horizon. you, his beautiful sunshine girl; the person that he wants to spend the rest of his life with. the only girl that he’s ever said those meaningful three words to. “i need more, baby. i need more of you. no one else, just you.”

“just me?” you smirk, ghosting his lips and leaving him longing for more.

rather than giving him exactly what he wants, which would be no fun at all, you take in the view, admiring the man that you’re so lucky to call yours. with his disheveled hair, void of styling gel and structure, he looks like something out of a movie. an actor on the silver screen staring at the costar that he accidentally fell in love with— a real-life fairytale, a real-life happily ever after. if there was a romance written based on your love story, you’d watch it a million times and more; over and over again until the dvd is too scratched up to play, to which you’d then move on to streaming services and have that film forever. nanami is better than a male lead from a romcom or kdrama.

he’s a dream.

he’s a dream you get to live every night.

as you grip his face with your hands— tracing the corners of his jawline with gentle ease and love— your gaze dips down and notices your favorite part of the view. his toned skin and hardened abdomen are both things that you can never get used to no matter how often you stare. a six-pack, bordering eight, that’s yours for the keeping— a body like the gods, gifted to you in a garden of golden apples just for your picking.

“kento,” you sigh out, breathing heavily and sighing at the feeling of his lips against your neck. no doubt, he’s leaving countless bruises and marks on your plush skin, with shades of purple and blue coming out of their hibernation and into the light that is the dawn of day— night turning to morning behind the sheer shades of your bedroom windows. “how is it that you’ve got me begging?”

letting out a harsh chuckle, he takes a hold of your torso, rolling over on the mattress in order to change your position— finding his natural place above you and dominating his presence over your meek posture.

“quiet, baby.” nanami commands, reaching upwards and away from your waist. his thick fingers near your mouth, briefly taking them inside before yanking your chin down. “suck.” his eyes are dark, forcing you forward and down his digits. “suck like a good girl.”

you’re in for a long night.

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀will be an ongoing set of timestamps w/ nanami ⋆⋆⋆�� ⠀reblogs are greatly appreciated!

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nanagoswife · 2 years

Text

Own Me

Summary: Gojo treated you and Nanami for your anniversary. So, you both don't let it go to waste.

W/C: 8.8k😳

Warnings: dom!nanami, degradation, piv, rough sex, oral (fem&male receiving), bondage, blindfolding, lingerie sex, marking, biting, cock warming, praise kink, breeding kink, unprotected sex, daddy kink, thigh riding, punishments, edging, unedited

A/N: So, this is VERY unedited so I apologise for any grammatical errors in advance. Also, this is very much nearly nine thousand words of pure porn without a plot. So, enjoy this thing that originally wasn't supposed to be more than 3k words

- - -

“I’ve got you,” Nanami whispers in your ear, his chest pressing against your back. He presses a kiss just below your ear, hands tightening their grip on your hips. Then he orders lowly, “Turn for me.”

You do as he says and meet his dark lustful eyes. It makes your breath hitch as you watch him shed his coat. His form is imposing but you feel your face heat up at just how attractive he is. It doesn’t matter that you’ve been together for years, he always has this effect on you and tonight is going to be one to remember. The fact that it was your anniversary wasn’t the only reason.

“I want you to own me.” The words are still ringing clearly through Kento’s mind. The way you looked up at him through your lashes; how your hands gently traced circles over his chest; your hand trailing dangerously up his thigh while he drove back from your anniversary party that Gojo had thrown. All of it was fresh in his mind but those words were the ones he focused on. Those and the, “I want you to use me, Kento. I trust you. Just like always.”

Well, how could he refuse you? He’d be a fool to say no to you especially since it’s been a while since he’s done something like this with you. It would’ve been a more common occurrence had it not been for both his job and yours stealing that time away. Now the two of you had all night and Gojo had made sure the two of you would have all of tomorrow for quality time. There was no more need to rush.

Now, he leans forward, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he mutters, “I seem to recall there being a better use of my tie.”

In the next moment you’re untying Kento’s tie, pulling back to meet his eyes. “May I take your shirt off before you tie me up?” You give him puppy dog eyes as your tone is lightly pleading. He was going to make you beg for it but the way your fingers trail over his chest as you slip his tie from his neck has him shuttering and losing his restraint.

Well, for now.

“Just the shirt,” he says firmly, slipping his tie from your grasp and stuffing it in his pocket. The way your eyes gleam tells him exactly what words are going to spill from your lips next. Just the anticipation has his heart racing. It’s been so long since the two of you have done this and what you’re about to call him has always spurred him on.

“Yes, daddy,” you say sweetly, your fingers slowly starting on his shirt buttons. The combination of your touch and the name has him fighting the shutter that threatens to flow through his body. He can’t give up when the two of you have only just started.

He lets you get a few buttons undone before grabbing your wrists and stopping you. A confused look takes over your features before he leads you towards the chair in the corner of the hotel room (courtesy of Gojo Satoru) and he sits.

Spreading his legs, he pulls you in between them and lets your wrists go. “Strip for me.”

You do as he says, slowly stripping away your clothing. Kento can feel the way his slacks continually grow tighter as you let each article of clothing fall to the ground. They grow even tighter as you reveal the lingerie set he bought for you last Christmas. He hadn’t seen you in it since and now he’s looking forward to tonight even more than he was before. You more than know how it makes him feel when you wear it.

He sees your hands move to remove the lacy set of undergarments and that has his hand reaching to grab your wrists again.

“Did I tell you to take that off,” he growls lowly, his free hand moving to your ass and squeezing the soft flesh.

Quickly, you shake your head. “No daddy.”

“This stays,” he orders with a light smack to your ass.

You nod, your cheeks heating as you offer a, “Yes daddy,” which has his head quirking to the side in curiosity.

“What’s my baby thinking?” he whispers into your ear before pressing a kiss to your jaw, trailing down to your shoulder. “Are you remembering Christmas and how I fucked you in this set all night?” he asks seductively against your shoulder, his hand on your ass massaging the flesh.

“I am,” you breathe out, enjoying the way Kento sucks the skin at the juncture of your neck. “I’m also thinking of the way you held me after all of that.”

“Now, now. Don’t get all soft on me now,” he says against your skin with a smirk, pressing one more kiss before pulling back. “We haven’t even started.”

Kento gets comfortable again and pats his thigh. You don’t hesitate to straddle that leg. “Continue,” he says as he draws your hands to his chest. However, he doesn’t let go of your wrists and instead leans forward to place a kiss on your neck. He watches as goosebumps spread across your skin and he smiles as he orders, “Ride my thigh while you do it, sweetheart. Daddy wants to watch you.”

You eagerly nod but he still doesn’t let your wrists go.

“Use your words, baby,” he coos as his free hand slowly moves towards the buttons of his shirt and starts to undo one, “or else I’ll be more than happy to get myself off while you only watch.”

It’s a lie, you both know it. However, that threat is a familiar one that he has gone through with before when you weren’t listening. Now, though, even though it’s a lie, you want to comply. You were the one to ask, afterall. So, you let your eyes widen in panic as he almost finishes with the button which makes him pause.

“Yes daddy. Sorry daddy. I’ll behave.”

Kento smiles, releasing your wrists with a murmured, “Good girl,” as he leans back. You waste no time in continuing with the buttons, your hips grinding down on his muscled thigh to relieve the ache between your legs.

You forgot what this was like. Any moments you’ve had with Kento in the last six months, even when the two of you had spare time, were moments without any wasted time. The two of you would undress each other and do nothing more than pleasuring the other. There was no extra foreplay like you were doing now; no tying of hands or blindfolding or ball gagging like you’re sure is going to happen tonight. You did take the courtesy of taking out and packing the once forgotten items just for this night.

“You prepared for this?” Kento half stated, half asked with a devilish grin when you put them on the side table. Your cheeks had heated in embarrassment but he stepped up behind you, hands grabbing your hips as he had pressed his chest against your back. “Good thinking, sweetheart. Now,” he paused, nose tracing the shell of your ear, breath fanning over your neck before you felt his lips and making you shudder as he whispered, “I’ve got you.” Which then led to where you two were now.

Kento groaned when he felt the way you were soaking through your panties, effectively soaking his pant leg this early on. It doesn’t help that your leg keeps slightly nudging his aching erection. Your fingers have paused their work on his buttons and he tsks, hands grabbing your hips to halt your movements. You look at him with confusion again, chest heaving from the high you had been so desperately chasing.

“I never told you you could stop with the buttons, sweetheart,” he says sweetly but the way he smirks and how his hands grip your hands makes you shudder. This is the side of him you missed; the side where he looks like he’ll go easy on you but you end up hardly being able to walk for multiple days.

“Sorry daddy,” you say, heat rushing to your face in embarrassment. It was the one thing that you wanted to do, that he let you do after asking, and you stopped. You had been too caught up in riding his thigh and enjoying the friction that you stopped.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” he lets out sweetly but squeezes your hips tightly. “However, there will be a punishment,” he continues with a slap to your ass, causing you to yelp before massaging the stinging skin.

“Yes daddy.”

He smirks. “Now, finish with those buttons but don’t push the shirt off. No more riding my thigh, either.”

You pout but it quickly drops when he smacks your ass again.

“You’ll do as I say,” he growls. “Now finish undoing my shirt and then get on your knees.”

With that, you do as he says. There’s a thrill that runs down your spine. You know what’s going to happen and you find your mouth watering at the prospect. That compels you to work faster on his last few buttons. However, as you go to slip to the ground, he stops you by your hips.

Kento pulls his tie from his pocket. “Give me your hands, baby. Daddy needs to make sure you know where your hands should be at all times.”

So, you comply, offering your wrists to him.

He chuckles as he slides the material of his tie over your wrists. “Good girl knowing exactly what I want,” he coos, tying the material to hold your hands together. It’s tight, but not too tight yet it’s still tied in a way that you couldn’t undo the knot without him doing it for you. “Now, get on your knees. If you behave, maybe I’ll let you finish soaking my pant leg until you cum. Yeah?”

That spurs you on to do exactly as he says, replying to him as he wants as you slip to your knees. You keep your hands in front of you so that he can see. He doesn’t need to tell you the rules, you already know them.

Your heart begins to hammer harder in your chest as you watch him unbuckle his belt before undoing his pants. As he pulls his length out, your mouth begins to water even more. There’s a bead of pre-cum leaking at the swollen tip and it takes everything in you to not lean forward and lick it up. You can’t do anything until he tells you no matter how much you want to touch him.

Kento can see the wanting look in your eyes. He knows that, with the excessive amount of times you swallow, your mouth is watering from the sight of his cock. You look so pretty like this, begging him with your eyes, your hands tied with his tie as you sit on your knees in that lace lingerie. The thought of ripping it off of you later arouses him and he has to calm his racing heart. If he keeps this up, he’ll cum with the first touch from you.

“Are you that desperate? Practically drooling to have daddy’s cock in your mouth?”

Instead of an answer, he watches your face flush in embarrassment. He’s impressed when your eyes flicker away only for a moment. Most of all, he’s amused with how you’re showing just how much you want to be good for him so that you can go back to your own pleasure. He can’t say he’s upset about it either. The way it feels when you grind your soaking core on his thigh; how your own thigh will occasionally rub against his clothed erection; all of it drives him wild and that’s not even including the way you whimper and whine and the way you look as you please yourself with something as simple as that.

A devilish smirk spreads his lips as his hand slips into your hair. “Oh, my darling girl,” he says with a mix of a gentle but condescending tone, “is there anything from me you don’t want?”

The question is both teasing and genuine. However, Kento doesn’t give you a moment to think just which side wins over as he pushes your head towards his leaking tip.

“Now, behave yourself. You know the rules,” he states before using his free hand to grasp his length. With his thumb, he spreads the bead of pre-cum over the head, chuckling darkly at the disappointed glint in your eyes. “Don’t worry, baby. There’ll be plenty more for you.”

Before you can reply, he tells you to open your mouth. When you do, he uses the hand tangled in your hair to sink your mouth down his cock. A groan pours from his lips when he feels your tongue get to work right away. It provides such a relief to the ache he’s been feeling ever since he saw you walk down the stairs of your home before even going to dinner.

“Fuck,” Kento grits out, hand tightening the slightest bit in your hair. He makes sure he’s not hurting you and, when he sees he isn’t, he moves your mouth over his cock the way he wants. “Your mouth feels so good around daddy’s cock.”

With the amount you take in, it honestly surprises him. However, as he finally notices the tears build up in your eyes through his pleasure, he knows you’re putting a lot of effort. You want to be able to please him as he guides your mouth the way he likes. A part of him wants to be upset that you aren’t telling him that it’s too much but the other part is filled with pride. Still, his baby was so focused on pleasing him that she was neglecting her own comfort. That wasn’t going to continue anymore but he found that you definitely deserve a reward after that.

So, guiding your mouth off of him with an obscenely loud pop, he guides your shaky figure until you’re straddling his thigh once again.

He brings a hand up, cupping your cheek as he wipes a tear from your eye. Just for that, he turns soft for a moment. “Why didn’t you tell me it was too much, darling?”

You lean forward, head resting against his shoulder as you mutter, “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“You wouldn’t have disappointed me. It’s been a while and all I wanted was for you to be comfortable.”

You nod against his shoulder, leaning back to meet his eyes. A soft smile graces your lips and it makes him relax.

“Do you want to continue? We can change it up,” Kento offers but you immediately shake your head.

“I missed this. I want this.”

A soft smile curls his lips when he sees just how much you mean it. There’s a desperation in your eyes and it warms his heart. This was always something you both enjoyed together and he was happy to see how much you wanted this.

“Alright,” he says softly. “Now, I believe you deserve your reward.”

With that, you start to ride his thigh again. His hands find their place on your hips, guiding them in a way he knows will increase your own pleasure. It isn’t long until his pant leg starts to soak yet again as your tied arms and forehead press against his shoulder. Your moans and whines only work to make the ache between his thighs settle in yet again.

He can’t take it anymore. Having your underwear in the way of both yours and his pleasure is driving him insane. He wants to be able to feel how your cum soaks his pant leg. The extra layer would keep him from experiencing it.

“Stop,” he says with a squeeze to your hips to still you. His fingers run under the band of your panties and he snaps them against your skin as he orders you to remove them.

You do so gracefully, still a bit shaky on your feet but for a different reason than sore knees from kneeling. Kento knows you were close, that’s why he wanted you to stop. He wanted to feel it. He needed to.

There’s no time from the moment you finally step out of your underwear after awkwardly trying to take them off with tied hands and being back on his soaked thigh. He pulls you a little harsher than intended, you crashing into him and rubbing against his painfully hard erection. At the sensation, he can’t help but groan. It was a small interaction but it was enough to relieve some of that ache even if just for that fleeting moment.

“Make yourself cum on daddy’s thigh, baby. Daddy wants you to ruin his pant leg,” he practically growls in your ear as your own thigh rubs against his length yet again.

Kento’s hands are on your hips, squeezing in warning whenever you get too close to him. The sensations were relieving but he was in control. If you went against him he’d have to punish you even if he really doesn’t want to. Just like you do, he wants to do this again but a softer side of him threatens to show itself. Knowing that this may be the last time in a while you get a moment like this though spurs him on to keep on track. If you wanted to go another round, he could be softer. There’s even tomorrow for that. Now, you want him to own you and that’s what he’s going to do.

It’s not long until you make it back to the edge. The way your head falls against his shoulder again along with your trembling thighs tells him everything he needs to know.

“C’mon baby. Let go for me,” he says hotly into your ear. Just as he says that, you’re calling out his name in a high pitched moan.

Kento can feel the wet heat flowing from your core onto his thigh. It makes him smile as your heaving chest moves up and down. Normally, he would’ve made you pull your face away so he could watch, but it was his way of apologizing for not noticing his mistake earlier. Now though, he wasn’t going to be as forgiving. Now it was time to move on to what he was looking forward to the most.

“Feel good?” he asks hotly into your ear yet again. His breath makes you shiver.

“Yes daddy,” you answer, pulling back to meet his eyes which just excites you more. With that look alone you can tell what he’s thinking.

This is going to be a long night.

“On the bed, baby. Daddy wants you on all fours,” he mutters in your ear before pulling away his hands and leaning back in the chair. He didn’t want to, your warm touch was what he wanted. However, he’ll have to wait.

You do as he says, walking seductively. Your ass was a little red and he can already see where his hands may leave marks. Those aren’t the last marks that will be made tonight. Far from.

Kento smiles. You knew how that would make him feel and it gets worse with the way you climb onto the bed. The sight has his hand going to his aching member, squeezing it to provide temporary relief from watching you. Why do you have to be so perfect?

Having satisfied himself for now, he tucks his length away before making his way to grab the blindfold. The ball gag will be next.

Kento leans a knee on the edge of the bed, letting his bare chest graze against your shoulder as his nose traces the shell of your ear.

“Naughty girl,” he says lowly as his hand slaps an ass cheek before massaging it.

You look at him innocently. “What did I do, daddy?”

A devilish smirk spreads his lips as he leans back. “Oh, you know exactly what. Don’t act like you don’t know or else I’ll have to punish you.”

“What if I want to be punished?”

A groan leaves his chest as he pulls back from you, wrapping an arm around your front to pull you up with him. His hand presses you back until your back is against his chest. “Are you sure that’s what you want, baby?”

“It is daddy. I want you to so badly,” you plead.

“Alright,” he whispers as he slides the blindfold over your eyes. “Tell me if it’s too much. I don’t want my baby to feel like she has to forget her own pleasure for mine.”

You nod as he finishes tying the piece of fabric over your eyes.

“Good. Now,” he begins, hands trailing over your body before settling on your breasts, playing with your nipples through the lace, “if you want to be punished, you need to tell me why you deserve to. Otherwise I won’t do it.”

For a moment you’re silent. All he can feel is the way you arch into his touch, your nipples hard and he has to gently bite your shoulder as your ass pressed against his groin. It isn’t until you haven’t answered for a few moments that he brings a hand to give your ass a smack.

“That little stunt was smart but I’m gonna need more than that, sweetheart. Tell me why I should punish you?”

The hand he used to slap your ass doesn’t go back to your breast. He instead trails it down over your belly button but stops just shy of your mound. It has you wanting more but you know you won’t get anything until you do as he says.

“W-when I was riding your thigh,” you start and his hand trails a little lower, making your breathing quicken. “I was intentionally brushing your cock when I knew I wasn’t supposed to.”

“Mhm. And?” he says against your neck, sucking a mark there as his hand drifts a little further down.

You swallow sharply. “In the car, I was being naughty. My hand wandered and I was intentionally trying to start off when you should’ve been the one to start.”

Kento’s head switches to your opposite shoulder as he hums in agreement and he sucks another mark on your shoulder before muttering, “But that’s not all, is it?”

“No it isn’t,” you agree.

“For example,” he continues, his hand millimetres away from reaching where you ache for him the most, “you brought all of this with you tonight. Did you not trust me to grab it myself?”

He knows what your answer is going to be. He knows it’s a lie. However, this is how you’re going to get what you want and, if he’s being honest, it’s what he wants too. So, he eagerly awaits your answer as his index and ring finger spread your folds open to expose your core to the cool air.

“No I didn’t. I thought you would have forgotten it.”

With that, he smiles before biting your shoulder just a little bit rougher than the last.

“Well, I do believe that deserves a long lasting punishment,” he growls into your ear, pressing his hips against your ass so you can feel just how hard he is. It doesn’t matter that you had already felt it earlier, he needs to remind you just how much he wants this as you do.

Before you know it, he’s completely pulled away from you. His hands leave their respective places on your body and his chest leaves your back. You’re almost tempted to lift the blindfold to see, but you know better. You are already in for it with just that, knowing he’ll be back in a moment.

It’s not until you hear something from beside the bed, then the dragging of plastic against the wooden bedside table. Then, you feel the bed dip behind you as Kento settles there.

“I do believe,” his voice starts suddenly right beside your ear. It sends a chill down your spine as you feel the drag of a hand up the side of your thigh until it stops at the clasp that attaches your garters to the rest of the lingerie. “That lying is a very bad thing to do,” he finishes. Then, you feel the familiar round piece of plastic and the chill of metal against your cheek. “Maybe we should keep that mouth from lying anymore, hm?”

You nod a little too eagerly as you feel his chest press against your back. His hand trails up from your hip until he grabs your chin. It’s rough but it isn’t enough to hurt. The action is more to push your mouth open and you find it hot that he does so.

“Open wide for daddy, yeah?”

As you do as he says, opening wide enough for the ball to fit into your mouth, you have to suppress a groan. The metal rings attached to the straps chilled your burning cheeks and that on top of the way Kento trails his hands across your body makes you shiver.

It doesn’t matter that your jaw still aches from the blowjob earlier. The ache is ignored as Kento does up the straps behind your head. It’s easy to ignore as you find your mouth watering around the plastic ball in your mouth. It’s even easier to ignore as Kento presses his chest against your back until you’re falling onto your elbows.

His warmth disappears again but he doesn’t move off the bed. Instead, his hands grab your ass, thumbs spreading your soaked folds and you can almost picture the smug look he must have.

“So wet for daddy, hm?” His tone is teasing as he adds, “I’ve hardly touched you. Do you really want me that badly?”

All you can do is nod as you do your best to imagine how he might look right now. However, it’s a bit hard to focus on that thought when his hot breath fans over your hot core. That, combined with the way he teases you with little circles from his thumbs, is making it impossible to think of anything but the anticipation.

Kento hums, amused, as he sees how your cunt clenches around nothing from your thoughts. It causes him to chuckle, pulling away and enjoying the way you whine when he pulls his hands away. Levelling a smack to your ass has your little sounds of desperation vanish and he can’t help but feel a small sense of pride at that.

He leans over your back again, lips brushing against your neck as he says darkly, “Don’t assume that you’re coming first today, sweetheart. I’m not going to let you until I’ve filled you up at least twice. Got that?”

Doing your best to nod, a smile spreads across Kento’s lips as he sees how flushed your face is. Just from those few words too. Now he wants to see just how much more you’ll be flushed when he brings up a certain topic that hasn’t been discussed in some time. However, it might be too soon. Or is it? In the end, he mentally says fuck it and goes for it. It’s not like there’s an end in sight of this night anyways.

Finally, he cups your core and drags a finger through your soaking folds, groaning as his digit slips right through. He relishes the way your body trembles at the smallest touch to your clit. Your body is so hot against his and he loves it so much. Hardly anything has happened but you’re already so worked up even with him letting you reach your high before. Well, maybe that’s exactly why you’re so worked up. Maybe it’s because you haven’t had enough.

“Hmm, you got even wetter from that?” he teases. “Does the thought of me filling you until you’re pregnant get you off?”

Kento expected you to possibly freeze. He thought you’d be taken by surprise by mentioning this topic however he finds you nodding rapidly. There’s a moan that spills from as you push back against his hand that’s still cupping your pussy.

A new wave of arousal flows through him at the thought of getting you pregnant. The thought of fucking you until he cums so many times that there’s no way it won’t take; the image of your belly rounded with your growing child; how your breast would swell in preparation to accommodate your child’s needs. All of it works to spring him into a new sense of wanting to use your body. He wants to have you a babbling mess as he watches his multiple loads of cum drop from your cunt. However, he would only use his fingers to collect to push it back into you so that none of it goes to waste.

He needs to calm himself down from those thoughts. It’s almost as if, had he were to touch himself, he would be done for in seconds. So, he takes the time to kiss your neck, sucking a mark that would be visible above one of your collared shirts. At the same time, he can feel the way you’re dripping all over his palm even though he’s made no movement in the last couple of minutes. God, he wishes he could kiss you right now. He wishes he could trace his tongue with yours just to convey how he feels about all of this but, for now, marking you up will have to do.

“You’re sure about this?” It’s a question but it comes out as a growl. He can’t help it. The thought of getting you pregnant is making him dizzy with want and it’s taking everything in him to not ditch dragging this out.

You nod without hesitation. He’s sure that you’d have a genuine look in your eyes if he were to take the blindfold off. Though, he doesn’t need to do that to know you’re serious and it spurs him on to cover the bare areas of your back in hickeys and light bite marks. He doesn’t stop until he gets down to your tailbone, sucking one last mark there before looking down at you.

The sight he sees is wonderful. The side of your face is squished into the mattress, a corner of the blindfold getting wet from the way you drool around the ball gag. Your hair is splayed around you as your tied arms rest on the pillows above your head. Pulling back gives him the full view of your soaked pussy raised up in the air. Your back is covered in marks and bruises from his fingers are already forming on your hips from just the smallest of interactions. His hand prints are still visible on each cheek of your ass and that’s enough for him to lose restraint.

Kento kneels behind you, licking a line from your clit to your entrance. His hands cup each ass cheek and massages the flesh as he does another lick, chuckling at the way your legs tremble from just that. A few more minutes of teasing little licks are all he lets himself do. If he doesn’t stop himself, he’ll break the promise he just made.

With that being said, he pulls away, slapping an ass cheek when you whine from the absence.

“Behave,” he says sternly, “otherwise the blindfold is coming off and you’re watching me get myself off. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

Once again, you nod. Kento leans over your back, one hand curling around you to cup your breast as the other moves to undo his pants again. You can feel the buttons of his shirt drag against your skin and you can’t help but be disappointed that he still hasn’t taken it off. At the same time it sends a whole different thrill up your spine. Yes, it’s attractive that he still hasn’t undressed, at all really, but you wish you could see it. You know that he’d tease you because it would make you wetter than you already are.

The leather of his belt meeting your skin as he pushes his pants down brings you from your thoughts. It reminds you of the ache you have for him to stretch you open. This whole time you’ve been in agony, needing to just simply have him fill you up the only way he ever can. You know his resolve is slipping, yours is as well. If this was a more frequent occurrence, you know you’d still be at that chair, begging him to let you simply put your lips around him.

Today is an exception. So, it’s no real shock when you feel Kento drag the tip of his cock through your folds. The groan he lets out at just that makes you shiver. However, as his tip traces over your entrance and pushes just the slightest bit in, you find your teeth closing around the ball gag as you moan.

You feel Kento press his chest to your back, his cock sliding between your folds but doing nothing more. His breath is hot on your neck as his hands grip your hips. The zipper of his slacks press into your skin and you know the sharp metal is going to sting but it’s going to add to the wonderful ache that you’ll have tomorrow. Plus, your fiancé has always been a master at aftercare.

“If only you could see what I see right now,” he mutters hotly in your ear before pressing a kiss to your nape. “You’d see what a pretty little slut you are.” One of his hands moves between your bodies to angle his cock to your entrance. “Now, show me how much you want daddy’s cock.”

He pulls away from your back, presumably straightening so that you can do your work. His hands stay on your hips as you move to push back against him, moaning around the ball in your mouth as he stretches you open. You find that you can no longer control the amount of drool spilling from your mouth as you push your hips back. He’s just filling you up so well. It doesn’t matter that you’re only halfway down his shaft, the feeling is already greater than what you’ve done since you stepped into this hotel room.

Kento doesn’t do anything until you’ve fully sucked his cock into your cunt. Your walls flutter around him and he has to bite back a groan of pleasure with a bite to the inside of his cheek.

There’s a moment where he doesn’t do anything. So, you assume that he wants you to keep going; to move while he kneels behind you. You begin to drag rock back forwards but his fingers tighten in the flesh of your hips. It makes you whimper with how tight the grip is but it only serves to heighten the pleasure, your walls clenching around his cock

In an instant, his hands are wrapping around your front to lift you against his chest. Both hands move to your breasts, playing with your nipples as he growls, “I never said you could move. Daddy is supposed to cum first, remember?”

Before you can answer him, Kento takes this chance to drag his cock until only his tip is still in and snaps his hips back up. The moan you let out leads him to doing the same thing over and over again just to hear that sound. Every single time he was created with the same delicious sound from you. He started to pick up the pace just to hear it more and more. It got to the point where he was lost in the pure bliss of something so simple.

If it weren’t for the way he craved even more, he would’ve continued. Instead, he pushes you down, hands still playing with your breasts through your lingerie as he begins to hammer into you. The feeling of your soft walls always drove him mad, the only words he could string together were praising how good you felt around him as he lost himself in the moment yet again.

He could feel the way your thighs trembled against his. It made him flash a devilish smile that you couldn’t see. He made himself hold up his restraint to take it off after he came for the first time. After that he wouldn't only remove the blindfold but also his tie from your wrists. He wanted to be able to feel your hands gripping at him. Most of all, he wanted to feel your fingers scratch his back or splay through his damp hair or how they would intertwine with his as he lifts your joined hands over your head as he cums a second time. Seeing you like this was a treasure but being able to properly feel you with him has become his new favourite thing.

“My pretty little slut,” he grits out as he feels him drawing closer to his high, “gonna fill you up. Does she want daddy to do that?”

Viscously, you nod. A chuckle rips from his chest at the eagerness combined with the tension in your features. He can tell how desperately you’re trying to fight off your own orgasm as he continues to pound into you. It was an amusing sight to see with the fact that he could see how your brows pinched together even under the blindfold. No longer were you trying to keep the drool from spilling around the ball in your mouth and he can only imagine how the corners of your eyes must be wet with tears.

That thought alone has him spilling into you with a grunt, forehead dropping against your nape, but he doesn’t stop. Kento continues to push his seed further and further into you and he doesn’t soften. No, he’s so achingly hard still from just the thought that he’ll let himself see your eyes along with your soft touch.

“You’re being such a good little girl. Your punishment isn’t done but you do deserve a little reward,” he breathes into your neck before sucking yet another mark into your skin. His hands drag up your sides, only stopping to snap the straps attached to the garters against your thighs.

The harsh thrusts stop, ending in one hard press that has you whining. It gave you a chance to calm down and let your building high dissipate. Had he gone any longer, you weren’t sure you could hold back.

You thought about being playful and moving your hips in a little circle but that’s quickly wiped from your mind when you feel his fingers work at the knot of the blindfold. It’s something you’ve noticed your finacé has grown majorly fond of since the two of you first started dating, seeing your eyes as he fucks you. He’s always loved these little games but you know nothing gets him more riled up than you watching him and touching him. So, even though this is technically a reward for you, it’s more of a reward for him.

It’s not long before the blindfold is slipping away from your eyes. You have to squint a little from the light even though it’s dim.

Kento dips down, pressing a kiss to your temple to get your attention as he throws the blindfold to the side. He presses another kiss to your jaw, loving the way you groan as his hands trail over your arms.

When your eyes meet his he can’t help the feeling of disappointment flowing through him that he can’t properly kiss you right now. He needs to be patient. All he needs to do is one last little thing before he can have everything he wants from you. Then he can, with your permission, turn this to the proper moment that he’s grown to favour.

You know that’s what he’s grown to favour and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t as well. The ability to be able to touch him in moments like these has always been some of your favourite moments. That’s why, when his hands draw ever closer to your wrists, you find your back pressing into his torso.

A groan leaves Kento as the movement also causes a flicker of stimulation for his warming cock pressed all the way into you. He knows that wasn’t your intention and he’s too focused on the need to be able to feel you. So, he ignores it and doesn’t stop until he has your wrists freed from his tie, entwining his fingers with yours immediately. However soft the motion is, his words don’t live up to that.

“Don’t think we’re done yet just because you can touch me now,” he whispers in your ear. It sends a chill down your spine but you’re given no time to think about it as he flips you onto your side, lifting your leg over his shoulder. He’s lining himself back up with your entrance, the tip only just pushed in and your pussy is clenching in an effort to pull more of him in. That along with the way you moan, one of your hands coming up to grasp his bicep, has him giving up and pushing all of the way into you.

All he does are small little thrusts, not enough to encite too much pleasure as he bites the inside of your knee. Kento takes the moment to see the way your eyes flutter closed, feel how wonderfully tight your hand is clenched in the fabric of his sleeve.

“If you want me to let you finish, you’ll need to open your eyes, sweetheart.” There’s amusement laced in his tone. You want to open them, you do. However, from the small glimpse you had, you’re afraid you won’t be able to hold back like you were able to before. The sight of him partially dressed, sweaty from his efforts and the way his chestnut eyes darken in lust has always been a sure fire way for everything to be forgotten. Hell, him just speaking alone could make you cum.

“C’mon baby. Open your eyes for daddy. He wants to see them while he breeds you.”

That drives you to snap your eyes open. You nearly forgot about that while you’re sure it’s been the driving force for Kento. Although you have almost forgotten, it now sends a whole new desire through you like it did when he first mentioned it. Now the fact that he isn’t moving is extremely bothering you as you meet his eyes. He must see how you feel because a grin splits his lips as he presses the smallest of thrusts.

“Oh, I see,” he mutters amusedly as he leans over you. “Was my pretty little baby so caught up in the pleasure of being fucked that she forgot the point of all of this?”

You’re a bit ashamed as you hesitantly nod. It was something you wanted and you feel like that should’ve been what was driving you but you were so focused on holding back your orgasm that you forgot the point. Not even that, he managed to fuck you so good that you forgot it was your anniversary.

Slowly, you feel Kento drag his cock backward further before snapping his hips back, eliciting a moan from you as your hand tightens in his sleeve. You wish he wasn’t wearing his shirt still. You want to be able to feel him properly but you’re in no place to make any demands. Plus, you were the one who wanted this the most. It’s only a matter of time before you’ll be able to get what you want now.

Kento is hanging on to his resolve by a thread. He wants to see you come undone over his cock, but he knows you wanted this. Plus, the thought of filling you up again first in the name of getting you pregnant is that thread and it's strong. After that, it can morph into him pleasuring you while he goes as many rounds as he possibly can until he knows for sure that it’ll take.

So, he changes from his long strokes and quick snaps of his hips into a steady rhythm. The way your muffled cry escapes your lips when he does brings him more of that resolve. Your free hand comes up to his abdomen, finger nails lightly biting at his skin. He’s so glad that he can feel your touch. The main reason: it’ll bring him to the edge a lot quicker.

Your hand grips his sleeve even tighter as he slams into you even harder and faster. It’s bringing you dangerously close to the edge and you know that Kento knows this as your head falls back against the mattress as you moan loudly. You know he knows because his hips move to an agonizingly slow drag of his hips.

“Can my baby not hold back?” he says with a bored tone. Then he leans down, forcing you to meet his eyes that hold an amused glint as he watches your flushed face, tears built up in the corners of your eyes. “Maybe I should manage myself and not put my cock back in until I’m ready to cum.”

You shake your head. You want to feel him. Most importantly, you want to be the reason he spills inside of you. The thought of him pleasuring himself and only releasing inside of you when he’s done is unbearable. You would say he’s only kidding but he’s done it a few times in the past when you haven’t listened to him. It was a torture you don’t want to go through again.

So, to try and convey your point, you tighten your hand in his sleeve and tug at it. You hope that it gets your plea across and it does. The way he smiles as he pulls away confirms it.

“Alright. If I feel that you’re losing control again then I’ll make good on my promise.”

You nod and then he’s right back at it. It takes everything in you to hold back as he pounds into you. When you feel the telltale stutter in his thrusts it’s a relief. You know then that you won’t have to put in so much effort to hold everything back and that you’d get him completely.

It’s only moments later that he’s spilling into you a second time with a moan of your name. His head falls back, fingers digging harshly into the flesh of your thigh. He continues to thrust into you until the hot spurts of cum are buried deep into you.

Kento relishes the sight of the white ring around the base of his cock. However he doesn’t have much time to stare at it. He’s too desperate to finally have this charade done with. So, he grabs one of the pillows, propping it below your back before rolling you over it. He needs to make sure none of his cum will flow out of you while he nudges your thighs apart with his shoulders.

He wants to taste you. No. He needs to taste you.

“Take the ball gag off,” he orders before desperately diving into your folds. Kento groans at the taste of you combined with his cum. Most of all, he drinks in the way your moan comes out clearer as he sucks your clit into his mouth. He can hear the clank of the gag before your fingers shoot to his hair.

It’s not long before he loses himself in everything. The way your nails scratch against his damp scalp, how your hips buck up to get more pressure from his tongue, the way you taste and how he pushes any leaking cum back into your cunt with his tongue, it’s heavenly. He can’t describe just how satisfying it is when you cry out, “Kento! I- I’m g-g-gonna- ah!”

“I know,” he says in between sucking your clit, “let go for me, love. I want to taste it.”

It’s only seconds later that you’re moaning his name as you come undone. Kento drinks up everything, using his fingers to push any of his cum that leaks out back in. All of it combined with your touch and need to breed you has his cock hardening yet again.

He needs to fill you up at least once more. This time, though, he wants nothing in the way. You’ve hardly come down from your high when your fiancé begins to remove your lingerie swiftly. When you open your eyes, you see he’s already thrown his shirt off to the side and that he’s already hard again. A wave of excitement fills you as he rips off the last of the undergarment and you move to push his pants the rest of the way down. Kento, however, pushes you back down.

“Stay there, love. We don’t want any escaping,” he says softly. When you meet his eyes, there’s such a look of love that you can’t keep yourself from pulling him down to finally kiss him. Both of you make a sound of relief as your tongues meet, your fingers tugging at his blonde hair while you can finally feel his skin against yours.

One of his hands comes to take one of yours from his head, intertwining your fingers as he presses them against the mattress. His other moves to rid himself of his slacks, not daring to pull his lips away from yours. Not even when he lines himself up with your entrance again. Now, he wants to focus on your pleasure.

There’s no more need to hurry as he slowly pushes his cock back into your abused cunt. He drinks in your moan when he bottoms out, loving the way you hand once again tightens in his hair. The way your walls flutter around him, seemingly locking his cock in, makes him groan.

“Your turn,” he mumbles against your lips before starting a slow pace. The hand that was in his hair trails its way to his back, your nails digging into his back. It sends a shiver down his spine as he rests his forehead against yours.

“I love you,” you breathe out, nudging your nose with his.

Kento smiles, pressing another kiss to your lips before making his way down your jaw and to your collarbone. “I love you too,” he murmurs against your skin before sucking a mark there.

There’s no more teasing, no more punishments and drawing everything out. Everything is blissful and soft as your fiancé slowly thrusts into you, one hand going between your bodies to play with your clit. His lips travel across your shoulders and collarbone, lovingly sucking a few marks. Kento does, however, make you cum twice before letting himself spill into you for a third time that night. He was always one to make sure you came more than him, always putting your pleasure first in the end.

When he does finish, he thrusts a few more times to push his cum into you before stilling from overstimulation. He collapses on top of you, chest heaving as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. Your sweaty skin sticks to his and you’re both so hot but you don’t care. Your hands find his hair, massaging his scalp as you press a kiss to his temple.

A light chuckle escapes you. “How long are you going to make me lay here?”

“Forever,” he mutters into your neck and you can’t help but laugh.

“I would agree but I think lounging in that rather large tub with my soon to be husband would be far more preferable if we’re talking about forever.”

Kento huffs a laugh before pushing himself up. His eyes are practically glowing and it makes your breath hitch. This man, the one who’s leaning in to press one of the softest kisses you’ve ever experienced against your lips, is the one you’re going to be with for the rest of your life. He is your family and you really hope that, tonight, you really did manage to secure an expansion to your family.

“I can arrange that,” he mumbles against your lips. “Only if you stay here while I get everything ready. If you’re not still lying here by the time I get back I’ll be quite upset.”

You chuckle, your hands moving to cup both sides of his face. “I would never dream of it.”

- - -

@fiona782 @thereluctantherosrose @where-fantasy-meets-reality

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kurooblossom · 10 months

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「DAWN」 NANAMI

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3 | MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

➤ Word Count: 597

➤ Pairing: Nanami Kento x Reader

➤ Tags: established relationship, f!reader, fluff, married, pet names, pregnancy, reader is referred to as mother, the baby’s gender is unknown/left up to reader

Even now at seven months pregnant, Y/N still found it hard to believe that she and her lover were able to wake up to a morning like this one. Waking up without the stress of one or both of the grade A sorcerers needing to begrudgingly slip out of bed, press a kiss to the other’s lips on the way out of the door, with the worry of not coming back home that night. It was a foreign experience, but one that she wholeheartedly welcomed.

The warm spring sun poured into their shared Tokyo apartment, eliciting a muffled groan from the man curled up behind her. One arm laid under her head and one lazily wrapped around her swollen abdomen, Nanami’s broad and muscular chest vibrated against her nearly bare back. Tiredly, he further buried his head into her neck, his warm breath tickling her neck as he mumbled.

“Mornin’ already?” He asked, his voice thick in sleep.

Quietly, she hummed, biting back the laugh that threatened to spill out. Even after years of getting up to go to work in the early hours of the morning, Nanami still didn't handle them well. Not that she minded though, just meant that two could lay together longer on days like this.

Sympathetically, her thumb caressed the hand that rested on her extended belly, smiling slightly.

“I’m afraid so.”

Drowsily, he hummed, lazily pressing a kiss to her bare neck, seemingly deciding to not get up quite yet. Much like his kiss, his hand that rested on her belly lethargically worked its way under the thin silk material that made up her nightgown, most of the fabric resting on her hip after a night of twisting and turning. He placed his open hand onto her bare skin, calloused thumb rubbing over her taut skin.

The two lay there for a while in silence, watching the sun's rays rise higher and higher into the Tokyo skyline. It was peaceful, truly. However, not everyone wanted to enjoy the peace.

"Ah!" Y/N hissed.

"What's wrong?" Nanami asked, perching himself up on his elbow behind her.

"Your child is wanting to play ball with my ribs." She grunted, taking his hand and moving it to the area they kicked last.

The sorcerer frowned. For a moment, he remained there in silence before he moved.

Slowly, Nanami pushed himself up the rest of the way up before positioning himself loosely over her body. Gently pressing on her shoulder, the sorcerer helped his wife turn onto her back. With relative ease, he slipped her nightgown up more and over her belly. Fighting back the urge to merely admire her growing belly, fascinated by how amazing women’s bodies are, Nanami slid back slightly before lowering himself between her legs.

Y/N shivered as his warm breath ghosted over her cool skin. Gently resting his chin on her rounded belly, his lips brush against the taut skin as he spoke.

“Have you been causing your mother issues, my darling?” Nanami cooed, his callused fingertips gliding across her stretched skin. “Be easy on her.”

His lips pressed against her skin, and another groan left Y/N’s lips as another kick was made near next to his mouth.

“So much for being easy,” Y/N said dryly.

“I’m sorry, my love.” Nanami smiled wryly.

Pressing one kiss after another to her skin, Nanami worked his up her body until he hovered her lips.

“Good morning,” Nanami murmured, finally, his lips brushing softly against hers like they did every morning before he began his day.

“Good morning.”

#nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami fanfic #nanami fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction

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yasutorasgirl · 3 months

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kento nanami x reader

based on that scene of pride and prejudice

it was pure instinct -- to hold out his hand so she could take it, to let her hold it, use it as support. after all, what gentleman wouldn't do such a thing? to help a lady board a carriage? he could be cold, deemed a heartless monster sometimes, but never unmannered.

after it happened, nanami found himself divided in two. part of him was glad to see such an insufferable woman go away, leave his sight and, hopefully, never look back. why should he have to deal with someone who always had an answer to his insults, a way to carve a deep wound under his skin with mere words? he should be relieved she was leaving.

so why was the other part of him still holding onto the warmth and softness of her hand? of how close they had been for mere seconds? of how her eyes shone under the sunlight? why did he let himself touch her without gloves on? without the last barrier between despising her, and adoring her?

"perhaps," he concluded, "i have lost my mind."

perhaps, he denied, he had given her his heart.

#nanami x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami x you #kento nanami x you #kento nanami fanfiction #nanami fanfiction #jjk x reader #jjk x you

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heyitsmirae · 5 months

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Nanami, it’s time [JJK fanfic]

Chapter Title: Time to go Word Count: 1,960 Synopsis: We all know that moment when Kento Nanami gets torched by Jogo, and you know what comes next… well I know we all want to turn back time and undo that moment. This is a retelling of that part in the story, with something different added to it. Nanami has a wife (you!) who is also a Jujutsu Sorcerer with a unique power, and they both want out of the Jujutsu Society forever. Pairing: Kento Nanami x Reader Content Warning: none YET, but in the succeeding chapters, there WILL be smut, I’m warning you all because I’m writing this while I’m ovulating lol horny JJK fans unite Notes: I had help from ChatGPT to generate a unique JJK-verse Cursed Technique without it being too OP or copying from an existing character, so thank you chatgpt lol, see the end part for a detailed explanation of the technique

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NANAMI’S POV

A minute ago, I, Naobito Zenin, Megumi Fushiguro, and Maki Zenin were all standing on a beach, the domain of the Cursed Spirit Dagon, watching the new arrival of a strong, frenzied man who had zero Cursed Energy, who was beating the daylights out of the domain owner.

The next thing I knew, we were back in the station at Shibuya, staring at the lifeless body of the octopus creature whose domain obviously crumbled upon his death at the hand of the man in the sweatshirt.

The same man who is now walking towards us with a glint of madness in his eye.

“Is he on our side...?” I thought, mentally preparing myself to battle this man in case he wasn’t.

Suddenly, two things simultaneously happened.

The man wearing a sweatshirt suddenly dragged Fushiguro-kun and flung him out the window, and another Cursed Spirit with an insane amount of Cursed Energy appeared without warning next to the corpse of Dagon.

He looked odd, almost comical, with the shape of his head looking like a volcano, complete with the top billowing off small amounts of steam. But we all knew he was dangerous.

“Dagon, I’ll take it from here. Leave the rest to me, we’ll meet again in the wastelands, one hundred years from now. Now then…” the Cursed Spirit said, turning to face all of us.

In a split second, he was by my side, touching my abdomen and glaring at me.

I barely had time to register what was happening when suddenly, I felt the familiar presence of a Cursed Energy, one whose presence I had not wanted to be in this place at all, not especially in this moment.

Time seemed to slow down as I saw my wife running towards me, worry evident in her light brown eyes.

“Y/N, my love, why are you here? Weren’t you supposed to be in Osaka? It’s dangerous here!” is what I willed my mouth to speak, but the words aren’t coming out.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. My mind can’t process it that quickly, but somewhere, somehow, I knew this was the power of her Cursed Technique, Chrono-Warping.

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READER’S POV

I read and reread Principal Yaga’s text message to me, sent about an hour ago.

Y/N, you should come to Shibuya as soon as you can. It seems we will need all hands on deck to handle the Special Grade curses wreaking havoc. You may join your husband in the rescue mission to retrieve Gojo, who was sealed in Prison Realm. Resume your current mission once this crisis is averted.

I willed the bullet train to go even faster, bouncing my knee up and down in a nervous tic as I run a hand through my hair.

“Knowing Kento, he’ll probably do his best to protect the students and his kohai, Ino. He might even get hurt from that chivalrous attitude of his.” I muttered under my breath.

Which is one of the things I love and hate about Kento Nanami.

It’s not that I don’t trust his abilities to get him through the battle at Shibuya. It’s that I know how overprotective he is of the younger Jujutsu Sorcerers (and of me), he’ll always go above and beyond to protect them at the risk of his own life.

The next stop, Shibuya.

“Fucking finally. I’m gonna age from waiting in this damn train.” I said, apparently rather loudly, since the couple seated in front of me turned to look at me with their eyebrows raised.

“Eh, who cares what they think. I’m used to the stares and the discrimination.” I thought.

I was a foreigner, half Japanese, half (your nationality), in fact. Despite my living here for almost three decades and speaking Japanese with a perfect accent, my features will never be Japanese enough for me to be treated the same as the “locals”.

It was one of the things that brought me closer to my husband, in fact. Standing 6 feet tall and with obvious Western features, he certainly stood out in the crowd. The locals here do not like individuals who stand out, so we both experienced discrimination of sorts, even within the Jujutsu society.

While I wait for the train to arrive at the station, I let my mind wander at a conversation Kento and I had before we were married.

“How does it not bother you, Kento. That old man was just downright rude to you!”

“I remind myself that they do not personally know me and that anything they say or do to me is based on a prejudice they have preconceived in their minds. Since they do not know the real me, nor do they have any special meaning to me, I do not let their words and actions affect me. It’s a waste of time.”

That man is wise beyond his years. His words back then struck a chord in me, as someone who’s always let other people dictate my mood and let their words affect me. I’ve always been like a sponge that just absorbs all the positive and negative things around me. Kento has taught me so much, both as a jujutsu sorcerer and as a person.

Due to an unexpected issue at our next station, the train will now be stopping. All passengers are requested to leave the wagon with their personal belongings and follow the station superintendent, who will guide you to the nearest emergency exit. I repeat… due to…

This is bad, bad enough that the Shibuya station is closed.

Once the train doors were opened, I jumped out and ran as fast as I could, ignoring the gasps of the people as they saw me jump down and run onto the train tracks.

“Please be safe, please be safe, oh gods please be safe.” I said as I ran, clinging onto these words like a lifeline.

I sensed so many powerful Cursed Spirits and Cursed Energy in the station ahead. Willing myself to concentrate on the one Cursed Energy that I’m very much familiar with, I stopped running and closed my eyes.

There he is! A few hundred meters below me.

I hurried towards the emergency escape ladder and onto the B2 level of the train station platform. Then I saw them. The Cursed Spirit standing over the body of another Cursed Spirit, my husband, Naobito-san, and two Jujutsu High students.

“Chrono-Warping Technique: Temporal Manipulation!”

Time slowed for everyone else, except for me. I only have a few minutes until my body gets taxed from using this technique, or until I accidentally create a time loop, so I have to make good use of it.

The volcano head Cursed Spirit moved too fast; in fact, it was already in front of my husband by the time I got there. I’m not a Cursed Tool user, so I don’t have any weapons, but I think my hands are enough.

I grabbed the volcano head spirit and flung him together with that man who was holding onto one of the students by the collar.

Quickly switching their positions, I half carry, half dragged back the kid to the position where the Cursed Spirit was, and snapped my fingers to let the regular flow of time back.

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NANAMI’S POV

Blinking, I stared down at Megumi Fushiguro in confusion, who was looking just as confused as I was.

“Nanami-san…?” Megumi asked dazedly.

“Kento!”

Her voice is like breathing in fresh air after staying in the sewers for a long time, or like seeing the ocean stretch endlessly over the horizon at dawn after a long year without vacation.

She was a force of nature, this woman. My radiant sanctuary that keeps me anchored, a beacon of love and resilience in this unforgiving world of curses, her presence a soothing balm to my battle-weary soul.

“My love, what are you doing here? Weren’t you – ” I trailed off, unable to finish my sentence as I rest my cheek on her head, breathing in her scent and wrapping my arms around her body.

“Principal Yaga briefed me on what was going on here. He said all hands on deck were needed. Of course I had to come here, love.” she murmured. Her hands were patting my back gently, but then she broke off the hug to look at me sternly.

“Look at you, your favorite shirt was ripped. These cuts, I can’t…” She reached for her pocket and brought out a small handkerchief, wiping the cut on my forehead as her brow wrinkled into a frown.

“It’s nothing, look, love, we all aren’t safe here yet.” I said, trying to appease her worry by making light of my current physical state.

A loud AHEM startles us both.

“Yes, ahem, well, if you both are quite finished being lovey-dovey, I should very much like to leave this station and get my arm treated by Dr. Shoko.” Naobito said gruffly.

We turned to look at the others, who were all averting their gazes from us, looking shy and embarrassed to witness our moment.

I cleared my throat as well, feeling the heat rush to my cheeks as my wife gently tended to my injuries, ignoring everyone else stoically.

“We won’t do much good to anyone, much less rescue Gojo and all the non-sorcerers here in Shibuya, if we’re injured. Let’s go find Ieri-san and get treatment for our wounds.” I said in a deadpan tone.

I could feel a different energy radiate from my wife, and I felt a sweat drop from my brow.

“Is she mad that I got this much injured? Is she scared? What is it?”

No matter how many years we’ve been married, I’m not sure I’ll ever fully understand how my wife’s mind works.

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Chrono-Warping

A rare and balanced ability known as "Chrono-Warping" surfaces. This power enables its possessor to manipulate the flow of time in localized pockets, introducing a unique set of advantages and challenges.

Key Features:

Temporal Manipulation: The user can temporarily accelerate or decelerate time within a specific area. This can be employed defensively to evade attacks, strategically to gain an advantage in combat, or to provide brief moments of respite amid chaotic battles.

Time Echo: The ability to create echoes of the immediate past or future within the user's perception. These echoes offer glimpses of upcoming events or recent occurrences, granting the user enhanced foresight and the ability to react more effectively.

Temporal Distortion Fields: By creating localized distortion fields, the user can disrupt the normal flow of time for themselves or others. This may result in altered perceptions, making it challenging for opponents to predict the user's movements or react appropriately.

Chrono-Infusion: The user can infuse their cursed techniques or physical strikes with controlled bursts of temporal energy. This adds an element of unpredictability and surprise to their attacks, as opponents struggle to anticipate the timing and impact of each strike.

Limitations:

Temporal Strain: Manipulating time is mentally and physically taxing. Prolonged or frequent use of Chrono-Warping can lead to fatigue, disorientation, or even unintended consequences such as momentary time loops.

Temporal Anchoring: The user cannot manipulate time on a large scale, and the effects are limited to specific areas or targets. Attempting to alter significant events or manipulate time across vast distances is beyond the scope of this power.

Vulnerability During Temporal Manipulation: While manipulating time, the user is vulnerable to attacks. Distorting the temporal field requires focus, and disruptions can leave the user momentarily defenseless.

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Hope you like this first chapter! Not much fun but I personally had fun retelling this part of the Shibuya Incident. Stay tuned for more!

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #nanami fluff #nanami fanfiction #nanami kento #jjk fanfiction #jjk fluff #nanami x you #nanami x reader #nanami x y/n #nanami fiction #nanami smut #jujutsu kaisen nanami kento #jujutsu nanami #kento nanami #fanfiction

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ackermelon · 1 year

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double shot espresso

nanami kento x reader

word count: 1.47k

tags: tooth-rotting fluff, so fluffy you might suffocate (I'm sorry)

*˚:✧｡ After a long night of gaming, you find yourself being pulled back to reality by the pigeons' coos outside your window. Your eyes gawk at the purple sky, the golden flares of the emerging sun peeking through the soft tufts of cloud. You go to admire the view from the balcony, but quickly remember the soundly sleeping man inside. Dragging him out of the warm confines of your shared bed and into the chill air of dawn, Nanami wordlessly holds you while you marvel at the start of a new day. *˚:✧｡

A/N: I genuinely cannot express how much fun I had writing this one. I was definitely NOT giggling and kicking my legs. I love him *cries*.

the comfort café masterlist

this series is inspired by the teacup collection by @seokmingiggles

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

You pried your eyes off the bright screen at the first coo outside the open window to your right, only for the early rays of the morning to greet you from behind the cotton-candy clouds, a pinkish-purplish hue to them as the sun began to rise.

You let the controller fall onto the couch beside you, rising to your feet – your toes had started to go numb as you sat in the same position for the past hour. Taking a few steps forward, you reached out to hold onto the windowsill, taking in the sky in all its different hues, birds scarcely flying across the wide expanse of it.

With your job picking up its pace before the holidays began, you found less and less time to engage in hobbies you used to enjoy – and even lesser time to stay up all night building a Sims household. You thought you would regret it, wishing you had gone to sleep when your boyfriend did; but with this view spread out before you, you’re beginning to think otherwise. While your boyfriend enjoyed going to sleep early when he had the time, you enjoyed gaming all night and watching as the sun peeked through the horizon.

You made your way to the balcony door, but your fingers paused at the handle. Abruptly turning around, your soles padded softly against the hardwood floor as you made your way through the short hallway of your apartment. You twisted the knob to the master bedroom, peeking your head inside, an easy smile curving the corners of your lips. Despite being a proper, well-kept man, Nanami slept as if he had a personal vendetta with the sheets – limbs all tangled up with the blanket, his pillows beaten and thrown all around the bed and floor. Aside from the one under his head, and the other between his legs – or under them, as he laid on his stomach. His shirt had ridden up in his sleep to reveal a slither of his toned torso, one of his pant legs halfway up his calf. Amidst the chaos he had brought about the bed and its surroundings, his face looked the exact opposite – at peace. Soft puffs of air left his nose, the faintest of snores that he will swear up and down, left and right, are nothing but a hallucination. Because Nanami Kento does not snore, and saying he does is considered profanity in his book. So you play along, taking his side when Gojo and Geto – his managers – decide to team up and tease him, leaving him helpless as he refuses to talk back to his superiors.

You found yourself leaning on the doorframe, the ticking from the clock on the wall acting as background noise as you took in the steady rise and fall of his back. Then you snapped out of it, standing up straight and clearing your throat, realizing that if he were to wake up right now – as unlikely as that was – and encounter the dreamy eyes being directed at him, he would never let you live it down. That, and the fact that if you were to stare for any longer, you would miss the bewitching scenery just outside your window. You wondered if it was cruel to wake him up when he looked so at ease, but realized that it would be even crueller enjoying the sunrise without him by your side.

You gradually made your way to the bed, sitting down by his waist and resting a palm on his shoulder blade. You shook him once, twice, and he was up, bolting upright and sucking in a deep breath of air, as if he had been deprived of it in his sleep. You flinch even though you had expected it. The man may sleep tranquilly, but never wakes in that manner.

“What’s wrong?” He questioned, nearly panting, bleary eyes looking you up and down. His voice was hoarse with sleep, brushing off the remnants of his dream. You wondered if he had been dreaming of you.

You smiled fondly, reaching out to squeeze his hand, the gentle touch calming his racing heart. “Let’s watch the sunrise together.”

Nanami Kento – a man loved and admired for being prim and elegant – rubbing his eye as you led him by the hand through your apartment, blonde locks tousled and pointing in different directions, pant leg still halfway up his calf. It was almost adorable – a man of his stature, following you like a lost puppy.

There were only a few things Nanami loved in life: finishing work on time, deli sandwiches, sleep, and – most of all – you. Why else would he allow you to interrupt his beloved slumber, dragging him out into the crisp air while even some birds remained dormant?

He waited for you by the balcony door as you collected a few cushions from the couch where you had spent your night. Nanami felt more awake after he had rubbed his eye dry, with enough awareness to go through the linen closet, tucking a few blankets under his arms. He walked outside where you had laid the pillows down, taking the blankets from him with a grin splitting your face. Cute, he thought. You were the most beautiful when you were excited, even at the break of dawn. You built a makeshift fort on the tiled floor, his hands warm as they brushed against yours. His body more so as you finally settled against it, your back flush against his chest while you stared ahead.

The sky was more orange than pink now, the glowing arc of the sun parting from the horizon. The stars that once scattered the breadth of the sky now swallowed up by the golden flares. The chill of the night still stuck around, not yet ready to part from the earth for the day, and a shiver ran through your body. Nanami unravelled himself from you momentarily, reaching behind him for a spare blanket before wrapping it around his shoulders, bringing it around to close around your frame. His arms held you tighter, waves of heat rushing through your skin. His head rested on one of your shoulders, warm breath blowing against your skin as his chest rose and fell against your back.

You half-expected a chiding on his end for staying up so late, but he remained silent, breathing in the early morning breeze while you watched the start of a new day.

“This is nice,” you spoke, voice soft as if not to cut through the quiet. Your smile was just as soft, an easy twist to the corner of your lips, eyes unwavering as you watched the sky change colours – from a bright magenta, to a fiery orange, and gradually to a radiant yellow.

Nanami hummed, planting a tender kiss to the crook of your neck, your skin cool against the warmth of his lips. He places a few more – on your nape, your clothed shoulder, your cheek. Anywhere he could reach without disturbing the comfortable position you were sat in, legs tangled and fingers interlocked under the fleecy blanket. His head found its way back to your shoulder, relaxing against the cotton of your shirt.

“It’s beautiful,” you added, eyes wandering, moving from one side of the sky to the other, taking in the view as though this was your last chance to do so.

Nanami hummed again. “It truly is.”

You continued to stare ahead, but Nanami’s eyes lingered on you. He would never tell you, but for the entirety of the hour you had spent on that balcony, Nanami didn’t look at the sky once.

After the sun found its rightful place between the clouds, and the sky lost its yellow hue, making way for soft blue, Nanami forced you into bed. Although you felt wide awake, you found yourself dozing off rather quickly, engulfed within the warmth of Nanami’s arms. And yet, you rose before he did. The blackbirds and robins had long since ceased their melodies, the shining star smiling at you from the centre of the sky as you stared out the kitchen window. Your hands worked while your thoughts remained elsewhere, perhaps musing about the man resting just a few doors down the hallway. Plucking out his favourite mug from the cupboard, you placed it in its allotted space in the machine, watching the creamy stream of coffee pool into the ceramic. The fresh aroma of the espresso danced through the kitchen – a scent you associated entirely with Nanami.

He should be up soon, you thought. Considering you saw him every day, you figured the giddiness you felt whenever you thought about him would fade away. And yet, here you were, smiling at the fresh cup of coffee you had brewed, hoping he would wake soon, ready to spend another day enveloped within his warm embrace.

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pseudowho · 5 months

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Infiltration, Chapter One: Introduction

Nanami Kento and the reader must pretend to be married to infiltrate a deadly Curse-user cult and take it down from the inside.

A slow-burn fic with fluff/comfort, angst, smut and heroics from our favourite salaryman.

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Kento waited in Yaga's office, pacing, restless. He hadn't wanted you invited into Jujutsu High under these circumstances, knowing you needed time after your trauma, but he couldn't deny that his heart was pounding in anticipation. He had only approved of you being called because the mission you had, if you chose to accept it, would be shared. Together. With him.

He heard three short taps on the door and his heart leapt into his throat, feeling your cursed energy approach. He contained himself, outwardly unaffected, and walked to the door to let you in.

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You were overwhelmingly anxious before even entering the school grounds. You would visit your best friend's grave today, for the first time since losing her, and you would see...him. The man who was...what, to you? Your other best friend? Your confidante? The man composed of the same formula from which your own soul was made? Or just your lunch buddy? You didn't know. Whatever had been blooming between you had surely died in your absence.

Your numb feet had carried you across the frosted grass, under Torii gates and past effigies, down a short winding staircase to where graves-- too many graves -- nestled under the shadows of the trees' bare branches. Winding past the long sleep of names known and unknown, your hand brushed lovingly over Yuu Haibara's headstone, the tears already starting to blur your vision as you stopped in front of the grave of your own best friend. Just three months old, frost decorated the white stone like diamonds, and you sat heavily in front of it, knees drawn up and arms holding them to yourself as you wept bitterly into your jeans. You had promised to hold yourself together, to make a proper apology for failing to save her, but you poured garbled nonsense between your sobs, stroking the headstone as if it were her hand in yours.

Enough, you told yourself after ten minutes had passed, she deserved better and she still deserves better, so sort yourself out. Rising up, the back of your jeans damp and muddy, you proceeded to tend to the grave, cleaning and polishing, replacing flowers and leaving a small bottle of her favourite drink. In silence, you walked away, another brush of your hand bidding Haibara goodbye, and made your way up the many steps, to Principal Yaga's office.

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Kento opened the office door, and immediately met your eyes. Thousands of unspoken words passed between you both; Kento hesitated only briefly before stepping aside in invitation, and, upon closing the door, gently pressed a cup of tea into your hands. You had been crying, and smelled faintly of the cold forest floor, and you were the most beautiful thing Kento had ever seen. He had never had the chance to hold you, but now was not the time or place-- if he pulled you to him now, he ran the risk of never letting you go.

"How...how are you...Kento?" you asked weakly. Your words seemed flat and small, so utterly unlike you. Kento's heart creaked, a child's footsteps on old floorboards, and he ached to tell you how little his own wellbeing mattered to him now.

Kento sighed, gripping the back of a chair and leaning forwards. Your eyes drank in his thick, corded forearms, the way his navy shirt stretched over his back, the lick of fringe that hopped forwards over his forehead. God, I've missed you so much. The words turned to a cold drink as they slipped off your tongue and down into your stomach.

"I'm...better than you are, I'm sure. I'm sorry Yaga is asking for you back like this, you deserved more time. I don't know what they want from us. But I know it's together and some distance away. If you have any reservations, please speak up. I won't let them take advantage of you."

You sighed into your steaming mug, the vapour clouding your glasses for a moment-- Kento's heart thumped fondly-- and answered him.

"I feel like...if I'm not dragged back, I won't come back. And I know what you're going to say--" you raised your hand to Kento in a soothing gesture as he stood, ready to argue your case even against yourself, "-- but I want to be back. I miss the students. I miss the camaraderie. I miss...god, I even miss Gojo, idiot though he is. And if anyone in this place understands what I've been through, it's you."

A flash of pain crossed Kento's face, haunted by the memories of his dead friend, and you stepped to him, hand instantly placed over his harsh grip on the chair. You felt the tendons of his hands soften under yours.

"So I'll hear him out," you continued gently, "because I owe it to her, to all of you, and to myself to try this again."

Kento nodded, folding just one digit over the back of your palm to swipe against it in wordless communication. You blushed lightly, pleased he was looking at the floor. Hearing the click of the door behind you, you stepped apart from each other, caught in shared vulnerability. Yaga greeted you both, and the meeting began.

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Seven short days later, you stepped down from your front door, locking up with a shaky outward breath. Turning to Kento, waiting for you by his car, he returned your hesitant smile with one of genuine warmth, brown eyes twinkling with affection.

"It suits you," he teased, putting your suitcase into the car as you twiddled your new ring nervously. You punched the top of his arm playfully.

"I could say the same to you...darling." Kento buried his head in the car, pretending to organise the suitcases as he blushed, alarmed by how natural a wedding ring already felt on his hand. Stepping back, he looked down at you, stern and unamused, but opening your door for you nonetheless. His heart soared at the first natural smile he had seen from you in months. Closing your door, he stepped to his own, feeling teenagerishly proud to have you in his passenger seat.

"Let's go over things just once more on the way?" You asked him. Kento hummed affirmingly, turning the heating on, and gently clasping your hands in his own against the air vents.

"Warm up," he ordered as the car rumbled to life. Bringing one arm up around the back of your seat, your breath caught in your chest as he turned backwards, thin eyebrows raised and one arm outstretched on the wheel as he made the car glide backwards out of the driveway. A waft of his cologne, familiar and woody, hit your nose as he passed his arm back, his fingertips (accidentally?) grazing your shoulder, and he began to drive.

"So," you started, trying not to stutter, "we are the...Tsuda family." Kento hummed his affirmation again. "Mr and Mrs." A short cough, and another hum. "Married for two years, but together..."

"Forever, basically," Kento interjected quickly-- too quickly, he cursed himself-- before clearing his throat and continuing, "All I mean is...it has only ever been me and you. Us. Easier than...messy exes." His ears crept with crimson as your laughter twinkled through his car.

How the fuck am I going to get through this without completely giving myself away? Kento felt utterly tortured, trapped between the divinity of your company and the agony of not knowing it more intimately.

You talked for hours, barely needing to fill each other in on the details of your lives-- you had had so many late lunches, so many late-night post-mission calls-- and instead focused on the upcoming plans.

"So, our informants are certain this cult is at the centre of a significant increase in skilled and armed curse-users, but they only seem to accept married couples as new members, both of whom should display significant jujutsu sorcery skills or the potential to do so," Kento mused, "which I have a theory for."

"Breeding," you both said, shooting each other a sideways glance and blush. Kento cleared his throat.

"Quite. It's certainly one way to grow your cult's power."

"It's eugenics in the making," you spat, "I'm sure Suguru Geto approves."

A rumble which went straight to your core came from Kento's chest, and he spoke, "Or, we end up with a Curse-user turf war. Either way, they've already been responsible for dozens of deaths and disappearances. We take them out."

Eyeing Kento admiringly, you didn't fancy the curse-users' chances against him. Your own ability, to compel the thoughts or desires of others, had some application in combat, but largely lent itself to support and reconnaissance. The cursed-energy tumbling off the giant beside you was in no way second to his commanding physique or quick mind. Unaware, you unashamedly stared at Kento, eyes taking in his thick thighs, tan trousers stretched enticingly over them and the subtle bulge between his legs, and up to his cheekbones, razor sharp and framing such a handsome face--

Before you could murmur your agreement, you caught yourself, turning swiftly to look out the window, blush creeping across your cheeks.

Unbeknownst to you, Kento stole glances while he drove, taking you in...the gentle curve of your breasts into your waist, the bow of your lips, bright eyes behind curtained lashes. He swallowed, bidding his blood to rush elsewhere. He focused on the road.

"Regardless...we've been accepted, pending Face-to-Face interview. Ijichi and the team built our false profiles, all we have to do is prove our cursed techniques, and we're part of the cult."

"I'm delighted," you chirped, "what a lovely anniversary gift, my love."

"Only the best for my girl," Kento rumbled, playing along. Neither of you knew how delighted the other was by the charade.

But, while you felt completely safe, reassured by Kento's presence, Kento felt that his heart had been removed from his chest, and walked away from him, directly into battle. He did not have his blade, too much of a giveaway, and instead planned to imbue his energy into his fists. You, however, had to rely purely on your wiles and intellect to survive. Kento knew he would punch a hole through a god to keep you safe.

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Ornate compound gates surrounded a beautiful traditional Japanese village, nestled between mountain ranges and clear rivers. As Kento crawled the car skillfully around peaks and narrow roads, you felt trepidation sink into you as, on approaching the entrance, you felt the thrum of Cursed energy seep, cold and unwelcome, into your belly.

Kento pulled up to vast gates, taking a deep, calm breath and pressing the intercom; a tinny buzz, a click, and--

"Do you have an appointment?"

"Tsuda Kento. I'm here with my wife," Kento lied smoothly. Silence.

"Come in," said the voice, accompanied by the heavy creak of the automatic gates swinging open. Kento's chin dipped, clench-jawed and staring intently ahead as he pulled forwards into an expansive driveway of pale grey gravel, a temple lying quiet and still in the distance.

Now afraid, suddenly full of doubt, you grasped at the potential consequences of your decision to return to Jujutsu High. You felt Kento's hand reach for yours, anchoring you. You turned to him, eyes full of fear.

"I won't let anything happen to you. I promise you this. I'd die to get you out alive." You squeezed Kento's hand between your own, warm and strong, unable to tell him that the loss of him would drive you past the edge of despair.

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Chapter 2: Pillow talk link HERE!

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gojonanami · 5 months

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ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD - NANAMI KENTO

✴︎ summary: aka nanami is totally fine and alive. after shibuya, nanami lets you tend to his burns and have an honest discussion about what happened there and what it means for your future. ✴︎ contents: hurt/comfort, fluff, spoilers/discussions of what happens to nanami in shibuya, and of course he survives, he's fine (copium), nanami being a girl dad (b/c you know he would be the best dad - i mean he is already). ✴︎ wc: 1,469

Refusals came first when it came to Kento.

“Ieiri can take care of it—”

Especially when it came to taking care of him.

“But I want to, Kento,” you say softly, burn kit prepared by you and Ieiri in hand, your fingers curling tighter around the handle, “I don’t want to push you to do something you’re uncomfortable with, but I want to help,” for all of the times that you couldn’t.

It has been a month since Shibuya. A month since Gojo had been sealed. A month since all hell had broken loose.

How has it only been a month?

And it had been only two weeks since Kento had been allowed home, to rest, allowed to be extracted from Shibuya from Shoko’s treatment area. His eye was unsalvageable — destroyed in that octopus special grade’s domain, and his body — burned severely by that volcano special grade. He would have to wear an eyepatch for the rest of his life. And reverse cursed technique only did so much, but they couldn’t heal burn marks.

Half of his body is wrapped in bandages — if you hadn’t been lucky enough to get Kento out of that situation with the curse you now knew as Mahito — you don’t know what could have happened.

You were lucky. Lucky to have found him after being split off. Lucky you knew how to get to Shoko quickly. Lucky that she was able to save him.

Luck. Luck. Luck.

Was this really luck? To make it out half burned and half alive? Was it luck that you saved him or would it have been kinder to leave him? But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t. You were selfish — you needed him, you wanted your future with him, you wanted him to live.

You couldn’t let him go. Not yet.

It wasn’t time. It wasn’t his time.

He only sighs at your words, “Okay,” he relents, sitting up on the bed.

“First we have to remove your bandages, and then I’m going to inspect the burns to make sure they haven’t been infected or—”

“You don’t have to tell me everything, sweetheart, I know what you have to do,” he says softly, and you swallow thickly, nodding.

Your fingers are gentle as you undo the bandages, first starting with his hand and arm, before moving to his shoulder, and then finally his face. Nasty raised burns marred his skin, raised and ruined marks that clawed over his smooth flesh. The marks ravaged half of his body — the other half he was barely able to protect with cursed energy.

You hid your frown as you looked at them — why was it him? That question kept replaying in your mind. It was pointless to ask. It was asking why tragedy struck one person rather than another — it was chance, it was happenstance, it was fate.

But you wished fate had chosen another — hell, you wished fate had chosen you.

Your hands are washed and gloved as you examine him for any signs of infection — discharge, abnormal discoloration, and the last sign — warmth, “I’m going to just check some areas of your skin for any warmth — okay?” and Kento nods, his gaze downward. Your fingers are gentle — a featherlight touch as you check, fingers tracing his hand and up his arm, across his shoulder blade and back, until you reach his neck and face. Your fingers end up caressing his face, cupping it as you stare at him.

He’s so beautiful.

Each scar is a reminder of how hard he fought — even against monsters beyond any of any sorcerer’s imaginations, defended his comrades, protected students, and somehow had never given up. Even when it would have been understandable to do so. He still stood on his two feet, unwavering in his determination to live — and it wasn’t even for himself. Sorcery was an individual sport, sure, but sorcerers pass the baton all the time, and they choose to fight for one another, as well as themselves — if only to make the next fight easier for their fellow sorcerers. And you knew he was fighting, fighting to come home to you.

How did you ever get so lucky?

“I understand,” Kento says, drawing you from your reverie, “I understand if you feel differently about my appearance — it will be harder for me to be mobile, the burns could constrict me and my eye as well. I understand even, even if it changes how you feel,” his tone was forced evenness, but he couldn’t hide the slight waver from you — Kento only ever wavered when it came to himself.

You pause for a moment, “It does change how I feel,” and his eye slides to meet yours, hardened and accepting, “it makes me only love you more,” and Kento blinks, ocean blues filled with water, “Kento, these scars, your injuries, they show how much you fought to come back to me — how much you fought to protect our students — how much you sacrificed just to keep fighting,” your voice cracks, “how could I ever see you as less than for that? I love you so much, Kento — I just wish I could have done more for you,”

His fingers find yours, curling around them, “Done more? You saved my life—”

“Did you want to be saved?” and your question makes him pause, and your words tumble out of you, a confession you never wanted to make, “Yuji heard you — heard you say how tired you were — asking yourself if you’ve done enough, did I just put you in more pain by making you stay—”

And he’s covering your mouth gently with his palm, making you stop, your tears streaming across his knuckles as you cried, “I never wanted to stop fighting to come home to you. I’m grateful you saved me,” he said softly, “every moment of pain is worth it, worth it because I get to be here with you. I get to have more time with you, with Itadori, with Ino, with everyone else,” he gives a terse chuckle, “I am tired, tired of jujutsu, tired of risking my life, tired of seeing those I love risk my life — but I came back for a reason, and I came back for you,” his lips curl into a smile, “and you, I could never be tired of.”

You can’t stop crying now, tears falling from your eyes, as you wipe them, “I’m going to have to change my gloves now,” and he laughs, pressing a kiss to your gloved hand.

“Change them, I’ll be here,” and you have to hold yourself back from hugging him — you need to put his ointments and lotions on and then bandage him up, and then — then you could hug him. But for now you settled with pressing a kiss to his cheek, and then cupping it.

“I love you,” and you didn’t know, but he knew, he knew then, more than ever, that he wanted to marry you. And he would ask — but not now.

So he smiles instead, “I know, I love you too.”

“We’re going to be late!” you wait outside, arms crossed, “Kento?”

“Don’t worry, we’re here,” and he’s stepping out, daughter in his arms, as you raise an eyebrow, “Mio wanted me to carry her.”

“You’re going to spoil her rotten,” you roll your eyes, walking over to your husband and one year old daughter, “she’s going to be daddy’s little princess at this rate — aren’t you, baby?” you kiss her cheek, as Kento watches you.

“Like mother, like daughter,” and you gape at him, as his lips curl, as he carries his daughter to the car to strap her into her carseat, “are you coming?”

You step over to the car, standing as he finishes buckling Mio in, and he turns to face you — the scars on his body remained, but healing with each day — his other eye hidden away under an eyepatch, but he still looked just as handsome the day you met him at Jujutsu High for the first time, if not more so (it was definitely more so, you often teased him, that emo haircut was definitely not attractive).

“Sweethe—” he raises an eyebrow, before you lean up to kiss him, wrapping his arms around his neck, and he melts into the kiss, brow furrowed as you pull away, “what was that for?”

And you shrug, “Just because, now come on,” you climb into the seat beside your daughter.

“If we’re late for this meeting at Jujutsu Tech, it will be because of your kiss,” he warns, catching your eye with a smile in the rearview mirror as he starts the car.

You only grin back, as your fingers find Mio’s tiny ones, “Don’t worry, we have time.”

And you did — you had all the time in the world.

✴︎ a/n: so this is some hardcore copium that @laneysmusings claimed i owed after the five times nanami fic. and who am i to deny? but also nanami is fineeeee. just a little scratch.

✴︎ tag list: @ghost-with-a-teacup, @itsseaberri, @himboelover, @sampam0260, @tiredkitten, @angelltheninth, @kateshappyplants, @neon-crow, @akaashi-todorki, @juniperjunpei, @what-the-stories-have-foretold, @purplecandygerl, @trenchcoat-idiots, @crimsonstarrr, @tirouxdreemurr, @dazaifungus, @the-apple-rose, @just1nee, @weirdanddorkyrambling, @goatlings-world

#sab [mlist]#kento nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami x you #nanami kento x you #nanami fanfiction #kento nanami x y/n #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #kento nanami fluff #kento nanami angst

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escapetheshark · 9 months

Text

Lost in Paradise (Nanami x fem!reader) 18+ smut; angst

Pairing: Nanami Kento x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst; strangers to lovers

Words: 5,300

CW: adult language; explicit sexual themes

Summary: You're in Tokyo for your sister's wedding and not having a good time until you meet the tall handsome stranger.

Masterlist | Ko-fi

The bright bustling blinding lights of the city render me dumbfounded, for one. It feels like watching a film, simultaneously in slow motion and sped up. The noise is deafening and comforting at the same time, like your favourite song played awfully loud at a bar in a town you've never visited before. Nothing makes sense but everything comes together in a cacophony of blood rushing through tired veins and arteries. Glass clicks, people chat away over the music that plays through speakers, some pop tunes from the top charts. Faces, faces and more faces emerge, re-emergence and disappear, all of them the same, yet all of them so different, each of them telling its own story, thousands of stories I will never know. And they will never know mine either. The joys of being unknown...!

It's getting late , I muse as I take one last sip of the weak beer in front of me, searching the crowd for something. Something . I don't even know what. Something familiar, something cosy. But the search is in vain. There's a large group of men in suits and ties that appear to be a lot more intoxicated than one should be at this hour. A pair of awkward lovers sharing what seems like a first date. Yet another group - of foreigners this time, loud Americans celebrating something. And then there is me, sitting alone, watching attentively as everyone else's lives unfold right in front of my eyes and my own is stagnant. I better be going now.

"Did you enjoy your evening stroll? Where did you go?"

"Nowhere," I blurt out, "just some bar in Shibuya."

"Met anyone interesting," she inquired, winking, a very small tinge of disdain in her voice. "Shibuya is a haven for rich businessmen, you know?"

"Yeah, that seemed to be the theme," I shrugged, uninterested and aggravated by my sister’s insistence. "You need to stop trying to set me up with anyone that breathes."

"Well, I'm trying to help." Her condescending tone, disguised as genuine concern, made my stomach turn in pure disgust. "You're thirty years old and still single!"

There it was again, the condescending tone she had mastered over the years, something she had learned from mum. Even her voice sounded nearly the same. She had also inherited our mother's beauty, which had earned her all those trophies growing up.

"I'm fine with being single," I shrugged once more, trying not to physically roll my eyes. I heard her half mutter whatever under her breath as she took an apple from the fruit bowl and bit into it.

"Well, I'll make sure to sit you next to some hot bachelor at the dinner party."

As much as I would have loved to retaliate, shout at her to leave me alone and be content with her perfect life, I couldn't bring myself to speak up, not in her home, in front of her soon-to-be husband as he slowly ate his rice porridge, completely ignoring the discussion at hand. He was a calm man, barely spoke a word, perhaps out of shyness or an unshakable desire to not be perceived - a stark contrast from my obnoxious, extroverted sister. How they came to be, I will never understand. Opposites attract, or whatever they say. She finished her apple and moved on to a cup of black coffee, completely ignoring the full table her fiancé had set for us: bread, jams, peanut butter, chocolate and hazelnut spread... Something about needing to lose a couple of kilos to fit in her wedding dress. I absentmindedly grabbed a slice of toasted Hokkaido milk bread and slathered salted butter all over it, earning a bashful little smile from my brother-in-law, proud of his northern Japanese dairy heritage. He told my sister she looked perfect as she was and there was no need to diet so much, but she was quick to shrug him off. Before I could witness any further domesticity, the man got up, pecked her lips and left the house in a hurry, leaving the both of us in awkward silence.

“Any plans for the day?”

“I hear Roppongi Hills is nice,” I half-sighed, taking a sip of my coffee. “I might go check that out.”

“Don’t forget about the rehearsal dinner tonight, at six,” she reminded me, even though I hadn’t forgotten at all. How could I forget about something she constantly mentioned? “Don’t be late and wear something decent, his parents will be there.”

“Yes, sir,” I mocked, rolling my eyes in disdain. The tone of her voice when she spoke to me always sounded so crude, so uninterested, like a queen addressing her subordinates. She’s always been the pretty one, the overachiever, getting married at twenty-five to a rich banker and living in a gorgeous flat in central Tokyo while I did nothing but mope around, single and fat and eating whipped cream straight from the can on a Friday night. I had forgotten how miserable my existence should make me feel until I arrived at my sister's beautiful two-bedroom apartment two miles away from Roppongi Hills, where she lived with her kind and loving and filthy rich almost-husband who worshipped her like the goddess she’s always thought she was. Should I hate myself a bit more?

Warm hues bathed the city as I made my way towards the restaurant, walking slowly and taking in the scenery of vibrant fleeting lights, concrete jungle where some dreams are made and some come to die. A small crowd gathered around an unassuming entrance, decorated with traditional Japanese paper lanterns - which I learned are called chochin . Looking at the GPS, it seemed like the small wooden door really was the restaurant my sister had picked for her first rehearsal dinner (first of a few, apparently, all of which I’d have to attend). I scanned the small crowd for any kind of familiar face and soon, the realisation hit me that I was very underdressed for the occasion in my simple black flared jumpsuit, black moccasins and the small white Dior bag my sister had given me for my birthday years ago, just to remind me that she’s well off. On most other occasions, my outfit could be considered put together but, next to all these people sporting intricate dresses, perfectly tailored suits and stilettos, I looked like an 18-year-old in their first job interview. Panic settled in as I approached them, their voices distant as if my head was being held underwater. I stood awkwardly near the thirty or so people, trying not to mingle, my eyes searching for my sister or her fiancé, but not finding them. Instead, a low male voice made itself clear right behind me.

“I take it you’re the bride’s sister,” he said. I slowly turned around to find a tall man with distinct blonde hair smiling calmly. “We’ll be seated soon.”

“Oh hello. Yes, that’s me,” I offered a lopsided grin, feeling my stomach turn in hunger but also in discomfort. “I feel like she didn’t tell me anything about this dinner although I’ve been hearing about it for months.”

A small old man slid the bamboo door open and guided all of us inside his little restaurant, cosy yet very expensive-looking. I imagined the tables had been rearranged to accommodate our event, as well as the decorations which seemed a bit too bridal for a regular upscale restaurant. Each of the six tables was decorated with a gorgeous flower arrangement, porcelain dishes and bamboo chopsticks neatly set up on the table. It seemed odd that such a homely place was chosen for a posh wedding-related dinner but, knowing my sister, this little family restaurant was probably one of the most expensive places in Tokyo. Near each of the plates rested a name card, so I went around and searched for mine, with my name written in the Roman alphabet and, underneath it, in katakana. I took my seat and noticed that, to my left, was the man I had met just five minutes prior at the entrance, his place card reading Kento Nanami. Our eyes met once more but, this time, I spared him more than a quick glance. His hair, under the dim warm light of the restaurant, seemed to be a very natural shade of blonde and his eyes, hooded and hazel, had an interesting shape to them. He was a handsome man, I thought to myself, observing the way his large veiny hands rested atop the table, his fingers moving slightly in restrained nervousness.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me,” he chuckled. I didn’t have time to respond as my sister and her fiancé made their somewhat dramatic entrance, causing the entire room to gasp as I rolled my eyes in annoyance. The couple sat side by side at the top of my table, his parents across from myself and Nanami.

“Could be worse,” I whispered to the blonde man, receiving a gentle kick to my leg in response as he shushed me with his facial expression only. I couldn’t help but exhale sharply, containing my laughter.

There was sushi, sashimi and several Japanese delicacies I had never even heard of, all of it exquisite and fresh. The plum wine ended up being a favourite and I could feel my head become heavier with each glass, one more bit of food down in a semi-fruitless attempt at staying fully awake and in charge of my body. Time went by in a daze and, somehow, I blinked once and most tables were empty, except for my own. Instinctively, I glanced over to my left, seeing the tall man sip on something - booze? Water? My sister, her fiancé and his parents shared a quiet conversation as Nanami checked his phone. I figured my absence wouldn’t be felt and wordlessly excused myself to use the lavatory, the sudden cold air reminding me that sobriety was long gone. Sometime between the fifth and eighth glass of the saccharine plum wine, my brain had become foggy.

“I don’t think your sister would approve of this behaviour, miss.” I turned around, cigarette dangling between my lips and lighter in hand, to find Nanami standing there, in all his six feet glory, hair and suit immaculate, as he took a long puff of his own fag.

“You’re one to talk,” my words came out slurred and not as cool as I had planned in my head. Still, he let out a heartfelt chuckle. Maybe it was the booze, but the bass in his voice vibrated through my core. “Is she still sucking up to the in-laws?”

“I believe so,” he shrugged before puffing out the smoke. “You don’t seem to be close.”

“Yeah, we’re not,” I sighed, taking another drag of my cigarette, swallowing the smoke, my eyes darting up to the night sky. There was far too much light pollution to be able to see the stars but, on the other hand, Nanami was right there looking beautiful and tall. Maybe it’s the booze, but I would definitely -

“You should go home,” his voice interrupted my ungodly thoughts, thankfully.

“I’d love to, but my ride doesn’t seem too keen.”

“It’s a twenty-minute walk, you’ll be fine,” he replied, taking a couple of steps towards the main street. Incredulous, I followed behind him, mostly out of curiosity and drunkenness. It had become significantly colder and I shuddered, goosebumps all over my exposed arms. Like a true gentleman, Kento simply draped his jacket over my shoulders and continued leading the way through streets I vaguely recognised. “I’ve messaged your sister, she knows you’re safe.”

“Aren’t you a gentleman?” My legs had started to give out and I nearly collapsed but, luckily, I found myself being led inside the house. “Goooood niiiight.”

I felt myself drift off as if floating on a particularly puffy cloud and the next time I opened my eyes, my head felt twice its size. Has the sun always been this bright? The smell of bacon that would normally cause me to salivate, this time felt vomit-inducing and I was on the verge of exploding right there, on the luxurious leather sofa in my sister’s Tokyo apartment. Outside her ceiling-to-floor windows, the sun beamed gorgeously; yet, I couldn’t bring myself to appreciate it over the headache that had started to form in my temples, pulling all the way to the back of my head. Last night was a bit of a blur - something about rich people eating decadent food in a far too expensive restaurant, some kind of sweet alcohol, a tall blonde man…

The following days all blurred together in a haze of wedding preparations, my sister raising her voice at people randomly, her fiancé apologising on her behalf, flowers and final touches on what was meant to be my sister’s big day, the best day of her life, her life-long princess dream. Thankfully, she had been so busy bossing people around and making florists cry that she barely had time to be unpleasant towards me. Even her fiancé, usually very calm and collected, had started to show signs of losing his mind a little. I often wondered what a man so gentle and soft-spoken could have seen in someone as entitled as my sister, but opposites seem to attract - at least in this case. I’d bitten my tongue more than once to avoid telling the man that he deserved better, he deserved someone who gave him less shit and wasn’t as cunty as my sister. But I’m sure he knows what he has to deal with and perhaps she’s a lot softer with him than she’s always been with me, who knows. Soon enough, however, I was being reminded of yet another rehearsal dinner - this time, a more important one - that was to take place right there, in the apartment, with just a handful of guests. Apparently, this was the last chance to make changes to catering or anything related to the reception, so both my sister and her fiancé seemed very on edge. I found it quite odd to be so shaken by a dinner party - a glorified dinner party. Still, it would give me another chance to mingle with the tall blonde man from the other day. Unfortunately, the memories of the previous rehearsal dinner had started to trickle back in and I was starting to think he wouldn’t want to be anywhere near me.

“Try wearing something decent this time,” my sister told me as I ate my lunch, which she had skipped yet again (“My last dress fitting is fast approaching and I really need to fit!”) Sure, the jumpsuit wasn’t the classiest thing in the world, but I didn’t think it looked bad at all…! But as she became more and more aggravated, I thought I’d make a bit of an effort to not piss her off. “And you’re not drinking.”

“Yes, mother,” I sighed in annoyance, rolling my eyes to the back of my head so hard I saw a glimpse of my brain. “Will do.”

Upstaging my sister would be more of a mistake than not looking good enough but I managed to pick out a dusty rose sheath dress with a V-neck, not too deep to avoid showing too much cleavage (which would certainly upstage my sister’s smaller breasts). I merely curled my hair a little, letting it drape down my shoulders and borrowed my sister’s makeup to create a simple look that would certainly be nowhere near as good as hers, given that she went to cosmetology school and all. Still, when looking at the final product in the mirror, I couldn’t help but feel cute - a feeling somewhat foreign to me, growing up as the fat and ugly older sister. Maybe the tall blonde man would even like the view. God, that’s so dumb , I laughed to myself before the doorbell rang. Soon enough, the small apartment (yet, bigger than most flats in the area) would be filled with chatter, smooth jazz background music and even laughter. His parents were there, elegant and poised as always, along with his older brother and the tall blonde man, whose name I’ve forgotten, most likely due to all the alcohol I ingested the last time I met him. Seeing his family and best friend sitting at the table like that, it hit me that my sister must have been incredibly lonely in her gilded Tokyo prison. All she had was her husband and some casual acquaintances from work - definitely people she could hang out with and have a few drinks, but not really close friends. She’d given up the familiar scent of home for a completely new city, a giant city where she knew nobody and everybody seemed so distant. Sure, she’s still awfully privileged but it must be tough…

“Fancy seeing you here.”

If I had balls, they would have dropped five thousand feet upon hearing that familiar voice, enveloped by a warm, smoky scent with citrusy notes, so pleasant on my nostrils. And that face, equally as pleasant, smiling at me. I could have tried to keep my cool but I let my enthusiasm show with an ear-to-ear grin. Without warning, the man held my hand in his, lifting it up to his lips and giving it a gentle kiss, his hazel eyes on mine. Heat pooled at the apples of my cheeks, as well as other spots I shall not name.

“It’s my pleasure,” I giggled like a schoolgirl. Before the interaction could go any further, we were being invited to take our seats at the table. A small thin man in a black chef’s coat served the food, which I imagined he prepared himself, careful to plate it beautifully and up to my sister’s insane standards. The food seemed never-ending, as well as the drinks. I did exercise caution, though, trying to avoid a catastrophe similar to the previous week’s.

Once again, I found myself outside accompanied by the blonde man - named Kento, as he reminded me. Both of us (mostly) sober, cigarette in hand, huffing and puffing in the balcony, overlooking the city lights. Inside, my sister and her newfound family seemed to be getting along. But none of that mattered when I had the most beautiful view: Kento. And well, Tokyo.

“So, when are you going back home?”

Home , he said, as if I really have one. Of course, he probably just meant to ask when I’m flying back but, perhaps the little bit of alcohol I was allowed at dinner was taking its toll. Or perhaps, the mesmerising city lights made me feel more sentimental than I should have been feeling. It took me a moment to reply, but I finally came back from my quick joyride into my own mind and I shrugged: “I guess after the wedding when they go on honeymoon.”

He merely nodded, looking off into the distance at the hustle and bustle a dozen metres below our feet. A comfortable and warm silence took over as we gazed into the night sky, unable to see any stars, but imagining them was still fun.

“You know, where I’m from, you can see the entire galaxy when the sky is clear,” he suddenly broke the silence, his voice softer than before. I chuckled at how adorable he sounded, slightly out of character for such a well-dressed and pristine man.

“You’re not from Tokyo?”

“No,” he replied, his eyes still trained on the night sky. “I’m from a small town in Hokkaido.” I merely nodded, pretending I even knew where Hokkaido was, ashamed of myself for not knowing anything about my brother-in-law’s birthplace. “We’re famous for dairy products and milk bread.” The low chuckle he let out somehow hit right in my core and I looked up at him, his calm demeanour contrasting with his chiselled cheekbones and serious face. I found myself wondering if he’s always looked this serious. “My mother is from Denmark, but I’ve never been.”

“I guess that’s where the blonde hair comes from,” I absentmindedly commented, causing him to laugh. He looked at me for a moment and my knees wobbled a little. He’s very handsome , I thought to myself. But mostly, very real. Attainable, gentlemanly, soothing. His presence felt like a warm towel after swimming in the cold ocean. I remembered him mentioning he worked in an office and did some sort of boring, unimportant job that he hated and how that made him feel utterly useless in the grand scheme of things. Looking at him, though, so tall and proper, his suit immaculate and his hair so neat, I never would have guessed someone so put together could struggle so much. He has that in common with my sister.

Looking through the glass door back at the inside of the house, I could see the in-laws leaving, being sent off by my sister who looked incredibly worn out. Her fiancé slid the glass door open to greet me and Nanami, mentioning that they would go to bed early, “but feel free to stay up,” he said. Truth is, I didn’t want to go to bed, or anywhere else. I wanted to stay right there, on the balcony, with that man I had so recently met but had somehow stolen my heart. Perhaps it was just the loneliness washing over me like a tidal wave, but I truly was ready to give myself to this man, maybe too eager to just feel something real, something palpable. It’s been so long…

“I’m still lost here,” he sighed. “In this giant fucking city.”

“How long have you been here for?”

“About… five years?”

Five years. Five years and he still feels lost.

“She’s been here for five too, I think,” I commented, referring to my sister. “They met at some college party when he was studying abroad, even though she likes to pretend it was far classier than a drunken make-out session.”

He chuckled again, this time turning to face me, his face illuminated by the dim light coming from inside the apartment. I wondered if I should kiss him, even though we were both quite sober. He seemed to read my mind because, within a second, his lips hovered just above mine, his eyes closed. I wasn’t sure what to do - if I should just let myself go, just this once. However, when I was about to go for it, I felt his lips ghost over my neck instead.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Living a little,” he murmured in my ear, trailing gentle kisses down my neck and back up. “If you’ll allow me.” His kisses stopped so he could face me, his cheeks rosy. I don’t remember seeing him drink much besides a couple of glasses of wine.

“Are you drunk?”

“No, I’m just quite needy,” he smiled. “But maybe I should just go home.”

Watching him leave, my heart skipped a beat and I found myself tugging at his sleeve like a desperate little girl. I hated myself for it but, at the same time, my own neediness had started to eat me up alive. There was a gorgeous man in front of me, willing to share his heartbeat with mine, even if it was only a one-night thing. Who gives a shit? Live a little…!

“Please-”

“Please, what,” the smirk that adorned his beautiful face seemed almost devilish, paired with the hint of lust in his eyes.

“I’ve been sleeping in my sister’s spare room,” I blurted out, incapable of making it any more straight to the point. “The bed is big enough…”

“Big enough for what?”

He seemed to be enjoying seeing me all flustered, shyly dancing around the subject at hand. Before I could come up with a reasonable answer to his question, an answer that seemed sensible and in no way inappropriate, his lips were brushing every so gently against my earlobe and his voice came as a soft whisper: “show me, then.”

To say that my heart was pounding in my chest was an understatement. It was rushing, crushing my ribs as it nearly exploded and imploded, Kento’s lips finally crashing into mine with the force of a rogue wave. It’s sloppy, almost too wet, too eager. Our teeth clash and I feel him laughing into my mouth before pulling away, his face flustered. He leans in again, his hand cupping my chin and, this time, the kiss is much more tender, less hungry, delivered with more expertise, as if he was trying to make up for the messy first kiss. I forgot where I was when I was and all I did was to be, to just exist in a state of nothing but bliss as Kento’s warm tongue enveloped my own and his fingers found their way around my skin, mapping it out with all the care in the world, just in case he gets lost in me. I didn’t think I would find anything in Tokyo but finding Kento was more than enough to satisfy my wanderlust.

“Why are you so needy,” I teased as his mouth found its way around the supple skin of my neck, trailing open mouth kisses down to my collarbones.

“It’s been a while,” he began, stopping his ministrations simply to look into my eyes with a longing I was barely familiar with. “Since I’ve felt anything other than despair.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but couldn’t conjure up the right words as I saw his eyes fill with emotions. He kissed me again, and each kiss felt different from the previous one, but all of them felt filling, like a warm meal on a cold winter’s day. This man I barely knew somehow felt more welcoming than anything I’d experienced in Tokyo over the past couple of weeks - I was seen, I was heard, I was the centre of the world even for a minute. His nimble fingers found their way around the streets and alleys of my body, lingering in the best spots, no need for a guidebook. In the back of my mind, the thought that I’d probably never see this man again after the wedding bore holes into my soul, even if my body refused to acknowledge them. What poetic injustice to be so easily found only to be lost again…!

“Do you like that?”

I was saved from my depressing inner monologue by his soft voice whispering in my ear, coaxing me to moan gently, nodding quickly when his fingers curved a certain way into me. “M-more,” I pleaded and he was happy to oblige. Memories of less-than-stellar encounters with men as handsome as this one played in my head for a brief moment before I could really enjoy his ministrations, his free hand coming to press at my mouth in an attempt to keep me quiet. Everything he did brought nothing but pure euphoria. Yet, when I suggested returning the favour, he would simply mewl out next time… There will probably not be a next time, I cried to myself, but my cries got caught up in my throat when his lips pressed against mine once more, again and again, his body moulding into mine so perfectly they could have been made for one another. All of it was tender, gentle, loving as lovers do. It didn’t even occur to me that he would probably be gone in the morning, leaving me to wonder whether I just had a wonderful dream.

Much to my dismay, I did wake up alone in a bed that seemed too immense, even though it was simply a double bed. However, before I could sulk at the thought of being left alone like some kind of bad hookup, like when I was nineteen, Kento walked into the room, already fully dressed in last night’s suit.

“Your sister knows we both slept here but she thinks I slept on the sofa, so play along,” he chuckled, placing a kiss on my forehead. “Please call me.”

The date approached quicker than I had expected and things became chaotic amidst final preparations for the most important day of my sister’s life, according to her. She was so caught up in the rush of it all that she didn’t even ask about Kento, she barely spoke to me about anything that wasn’t her wedding - which is understandable, I thought. I would occasionally sneak out to meet up with Kento at some hole in the wall pub where we would drink a little, talk a little, kiss a little. But right when I had started to accustom myself with this new routine of seeing him every other day or so, kissing in some dark place for a while until we were separated by our own responsibilities and speaking via text message during the day - it all came to an end. The wedding day was my last chance to spend time with him before I had my flight back home.

“You two seem to have hit it off,” my sister laughed, a little bit tipsy, the strap of her white dress falling down her shoulder. I fixed it for her with a smile on my face, realising that no matter how bitchy she gets, she’s my own flesh and all the bad blood between us seemed to boil down to mostly being pitted against one another from an early age: by our own family members, friends, people around us in general. But none of that mattered, not when she looked stunning, glowing, celebrating the love I never realised she had in her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I felt my face heat up, looking down at the way her dress flowed down her tall body. “Kento is just a nice guy.”

“If you say so,” she laughed, her face rosy, eyes wide, like that time when we were kids when we found the key to the box where our parents hid all the sweets. “I’ve known Kento for years now and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile as much.”

Curiosity getting the best of me, I peeked over my shoulder to see the man standing next to the buffet table, picking up a mini éclair and smiling like an idiot. A gorgeous idiot. An overwhelming sense of calm washed over me and I had to fight the tears from rolling down my face. Happy tears, tears of a cosmic joy I don’t think I’ve ever experienced. It’s as if the entirety of my life, all its ups and downs, all the pain was floating in a pool of salt and sage and, for once, I could allow myself some feelings. And boy, did I have a lot of those…!

“I love you, you stupid slut.” On hearing those words, the tears I had been doing such a good job at keeping at bay just gained a life of their own as I embraced my sister tightly. “I love you too, you idiot whore,” I laughed, her boobs pressing so hard against my chest I thought she was going to burst. Maybe she did, maybe she burst with love on that day. And honestly, so did I. Kento and I shared our last kiss and, before I knew it, I was on a plane back home, my bag full of memories, party favours from the wedding, cheap Japan souvenirs and Kento’s shirt he had given me as a parting gift. Everything felt different like the world had gained new weird colours I’d never seen before - colours that didn’t seem to fade even in the darkness. So many faces around me, so many stories, even here in my hometown, far smaller than Tokyo. All these stories I would never know and some of them were meant to tangle with mine.

#nanami x you #nanami smut #nanami fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen #jjk imagine #jjk smut

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