makismei

[makismei]

god i hate these wisdom tooth sockets

[makismei]

sorry if I spam liked ur posts, I got lost in the sauce 😔🩷

LMAOOO all good bby

[makismei]

virgin!reader, fem!reader, mdni 18+ only pls, overstim (what's new guys), fingering, squirting, pussy licking :D

you've only ever let toji rub your clit. truth be told, you're nervous to let him do more. obviously, you've sucked him off here and there to dispel his idea of him pleasuring you in the way he wants.

as much as you want it, as much as you know he'd make you feel so good—you don't want him to know that you can squirt... quite easily at that.

"baby," he kisses your neck, your cheek, "let me taste you, i'm dying for it."

rough fingers tease your clit, he groans at how wet your pussy's become. "tojiiii," you whine, legs shaking because he's already made you cum twice, "it's so embarassinggg..."

"how, baby?" he whispers and his voice sends shivers up your back, "i jus' wanna make you feel good. what are you so worried about, huh?"

you can feel him smiling into your skin, but your silence makes him falter. he withdraws his hand, "talk to me, doll."

"it's—it's just that," you stutter, shrinking in on yourself from embarrassment. his gaze is so intense that you make him look in another direction. "stop looking at me like that!"

he laughs, turning his head so he's able to kiss your hand, his gaze meeting yours once again.

"um, well.. i'm scared that if you finger me or whatever i'll... squirt." you mutter out that very last word so quietly he almost misses it.

he looks at you incredulously, "what? squirt?"

"yes! it's embarrassing okay!" you exclaim, hands coming up to hide your face. "my ex fingered me before he tried to put it in and when he saw me squirt, he said it was disgusting and didn't wanna sleep with me anymore!"

"he what?" toji gapes, irritation bubbling in his voice. he always hated that guy. in fact, when you guys broke up, toji was in a good mood for an entire week—not that he'd ever tell you that, though.

he gets off the bed and you feel your heart drop because you think he's leaving.

"yeah, so—toji! what are you doing?!" you yelp when he drags you to the edge of the bed. you look down at him like he's crazy. there's a feral look in his gaze, like he's getting ready to devour you.

"what does it look like?" he deadpans, "'m gonna eat your pussy."

you scramble to try and pull yourself up the bed, but he grips your thighs so you stay put.

"you know your word, baby." he reminds, not even looking at your face as he takes two fingers to part your slit, groaning at how wet you are.

first lick has your entire body tensing. he's disgusting with it, long tongue covering your whole pussy. he kisses and sucks at your clit, feeling his boxers grow damper at the sound of your moans.

"oh my god—okay! you don't have to—mmmphhhh!" he starts adding more pressure with each lick, and you don't even realize he's sneaking a hand closer to your leaky cunt.

you squeal when he slides a finger past your gummy walls, legs kicking out as you thrash on the bed. back arched, you fist the sheets underneath you as toji's finger prods at your insides, his tongue still relentless on your poor clit, alternating between flicking and sucking.

"pussy so fucking good, baby." he groans against your cunt, "can't believe you tried to keep me away from this."

"i—i just—" his hand comes down on the side of your thigh. it's not painful, just a warning.

"i don't wanna hear your excuses. i want you to cum, baby." he slurps at your clit, "'n it better be messy f'me."

you shake your head, "toji, i can't—oh my god, 'm gonna cum, please.. please."

you don't know if you're begging him to stop or keep going, but toji decides for you when he hooks his fingers up and presses against a spongy spot hidden inside your soaked pussy.

eyes widening, your whole body goes rigid and it's like toji's won the lottery. his eyes gleam with fervour as he hears your moans get louder and feels your cunt sporadically clenching down on him.

concentrated, he keeps his pace steady, needing you to fall over the edge for him.

"'m cumming!" you gasp, squealing as squirt gushes from your cunt, pushing his fingers out. some of it gets on his face, but he pays no mind as he starts to rub your clit, watching with awe as your squirt splashes around.

you're practically shouting as he hurls you into another orgasm, two mischievous fingers finding their way back inside as he makes you ride out your climax.

your hands come down on the bed, fists banging against it as you're overwhelmed with pleasure. toji watches as you writhe from how good he's making you feel, his fingers slipping out of your cunt and shamelessly popping them into his mouth.

"what the hell is wrong with you?" panting, you try to push him away with your foot.

"that was so sexy, doll." he grins ear to ear, redirecting your foot to sit on his shoulder, his head turning to kiss your calf. "can't believe you've been holding out on me."

your body twitches involuntarily and he chuckles. "damn i can't wait to make you squirt on this dick."

"w-what?!"

[makismei]

EMERGENCY CONTACT 

ex-boyfriend!nanami kento x reader ─ one shot

sypnosis: when a hospital visit leaves you too weak to go home alone, you don't think twice before agreeing to let the nurse call your emergency contact. only... the person who shows up isn't who you expected. you thought nanami had walked out of your life for good three years ago – so why is he here now?

content: MDNI, exes to lovers, long-term relationship in the past, just two people hung up over each other, yearning, so much yearning, reconciliation, fluff, non-detailed references to mental health struggles, explicit smut, nanami kento has a big dick…., hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending!! porn with plot, makeup sex (but it’s 3 years in the making) word count: 10k

a/n: i've been sitting on this work since last year so i'm really happy it's finally done! i hope the nanami girlies enjoy <3 ALSO uh i’m kinda obsessed with the idea of nanami not being with anyone else for the entire period of the break up because he’s just loyal like that. this man loves you so much… i love men who yearn and this particular man yearns hard. ao3 link

you sit on the edge of the bed, the discharge paper crumpled in your hands. your body aches, your head throbs, and the bright fluorescent lights are way too harsh on your eyes.

you kick your feet idly, letting the sound fill up the quiet of the hospital room. you’ve been waiting for the nurse to come back and give you the all-clear to leave. she had asked if you would like her to call your emergency contact first – advising that you were still weak and would be much safer with someone to help you get home. exhausted and bleary-eyed, you had simply shrugged and agreed without much thought. 

your mom would probably rush over, give you a stern lecture about taking care of yourself better, though her worry would be evident in the way she’d sneak side glances at you the entire drive back to your apartment.

“i told you not to overwork yourself,” she would chide, her brows furrowed. “you can’t keep living like this.”

guilt presses down, heavier than the fever pressing at your temples. she’s right, of course. you’re just not sure what else to do. your industry treats burnout as a badge of honour, and slowing down means falling behind. you’ve already sacrificed so much, so what’s a few skipped meals, a few dizzy spells?

a knock on the door draws you out of your reverie. your eyes flicker up to find the same nurse from before at the door, clipboard in hand.

“it says here that your emergency contact is a person named…?” she squints at the papers in her hand, “…nanami kento?” she peers up at you from her clipboard, offering you a kind smile.

your stomach drops.

nanami… kento? 

you haven’t heard that name in months, much less seen the man himself in two years. the sound of his name reverberates in your ears, a familiar ache washing over you once more. 

“we actually tried to get in touch with him earlier while you were unconscious, but he didn’t pick up.” she continues, her tone cheerful, oblivious to the distraught expression on your face. “good news though, i just managed to contact him and he’s already on his way h—”

“wait, no!” you cut her off, your voice sharp with panic as you frantically wave your hands in front of you.

“oh…?” the nurse blinks at you, now startled by your sudden outburst, as you scramble to explain yourself.

“t–that won’t be necessary. i’ll uh– i’ll call someone else right now,” you say quickly, standing up to grab your phone from your bag. “he’s– he’s…”

my ex-boyfriend. 

“…he doesn’t live in tokyo anymore,” you finish, voice softening in panic-soaked whisper. “he definitely won’t be able to come.”

and he probably doesn’t even think about me anymore.

“thats odd,” her eyebrows lift. “it’s just… when we called him, he said he would be here soon, and he sounded quite worried, actually.” she eyes you with a gentle concern.

oh god, no. 

you sit down just as quickly as you stood up, clutching the sides of the bed frame like an anchor and feeling like you might be rapidly cycling through the five stages of grief. 

stage 1, denial: because there’s just no fucking way. nanami kento, who hated you so much he quit his job and disappeared to kyoto to get away, a whole train ride away from tokyo, is supposedly coming to pick you up? 

step 2, anger: why the hell did you let them call him? what were you thinking? why is he still listed as your emergency contact? which puppy did you kick? what god did you offend?

step 3, bargaining: maybe you can hobble out of here and call a taxi before he arrives. no wait, the nurse had said it wasn’t advisable with your condition. is hiding in the toilet or under the bed a feasible option instead? you can’t help but peer down the edge of the hospital bed. no, too much space underneath. he’d spot you instantly. fuck.

you’re about to progress to the next stage: existential crisis when someone clears his throat at the door. 

you know instantly who it is without having to look up.

you really don’t want to look up.

how many seconds is a reasonable time to spend staring at the ground below your feet?

taking measured breaths to steel yourself, you count to three before slowly raising your head to look at him.

you swallow hard upon doing so, your voice instantly dying in your throat. 

standing right in front of you, it's undeniable that he’s just as handsome as ever. the same chiselled jawline and hollowed cheekbones, the signature blue dress shirt, and the same calm, steady presence that used to make you feel so incredibly safe. his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and you have to try really hard not to notice the way his biceps pull the fabric tight against his arms. 

and.. he still smells entirely familiar, the distinctive smell of the cologne you gifted him on your second anniversary being hard to miss. you wonder if he’s finished the bottle, or if he went out and repurchased the same one. you wonder if he thought of you while doing so, if he remembered the night you shared together the night you presented him with the gift. 

you wonder if he knows you still think of him – when you pass by his favourite bakery, when you cook a dish that used to be enjoyed together, or when it’s late at night, and the bed’s far too cold, and you find yourself missing the warmth of a certain ex-lover.

he was more than your ex-lover, though. he was your best friend, your home, and… you’d always thought he’d be your husband one day. 

you quickly shake off that thought before it cracks your heart right open again.

there’s a tired look in nanami’s eyes that mirrors your own, and his tie is slightly loosened – he must have rushed over.

there’s a brief moment of quiet. neither one of you speaks, the silence thick with unsaid things from the past that come rushing back in an instant for you. shared memories – the laughter, the promises, and the pain, that you’ve tried to block out with one too many drinks alone or with friends. 

he doesn’t ask if you’re okay. he doesn’t ask why your emergency contact list still has his name. he doesn’t ask anything.

“come on,” he says simply, not meeting your eyes. “let’s get you home.”

he can’t even look at me. 

so why did he even bother to come?

he just takes your bag from the side table, slings it over his shoulder, and holds the door open for you like it’s been no time at all.

thankfully, the car ride home is short and traffic is smooth, ensuring your suffering isn’t needlessly prolonged. after giving nanami your address, you simply opt to stare out the window, pretending to take great interest in the passing blur of trees and headlights. anything to avoid looking at him.

“thanks for coming,” you mumble, voice stiff and rigid. “i’m sorry about the inconvenience.”

he glances over at you. “that’s alright. i work nearby.” he’s straight-faced as he stares ahead, and the tone of his voice is imperceptible. you can’t get a read on his emotions at all, even if you tried.

you ignore the part where he just revealed that he’s back in tokyo. working. it shouldn’t hurt you that you didn’t know. he came to pick you up when he didn’t have to, when he didn’t want to, and that should be enough.

“still,” you say quietly, shifting in your seat. “thank you.” 

you know this man like the lines on your palms – every freckle, every sigh, every scar he never let anyone else touch. you know the exact way he takes his coffee and how he prefers to fold his shirts. you have his initials inked into your skin, for goodness' sake. he used to trace over them absentmindedly when he thought you were asleep.

and yet.

here you are.

he was the love of your life, and you’re reduced to exchanging cheap pleasantries like strangers. 

“it– it was an accident,” you attempt to clarify, sitting up straighter. “the nurse asked if i wanted to call my emergency contact, and i wasn’t thinking so i said yes, and she tells me she’s just called uh– you, and i must have forgotten to change my–” you cut yourself off, wincing when you realise you’ve started rambling.

“...thank you,” you say again stupidly, for lack of anything else to say to fill the space between you. “i… i appreciate it.”

it’s almost laughable how awkwardly you’re sitting, with your entire body turned away towards the window, like you’re trying to squeeze yourself towards the door and as far away as possible from the driver’s side. you might as well be trying to climb out of it.

“you’ve thanked me enough tonight,” he makes a sound that could seem like a bit of a laugh escaping him. you want to reach for it. to capture the precious sound with both hands and never let go. 

“so…” nanami asks, softer now. “do you feel alright?”

“y–yeah.” you mumble, looking down at your hands. “just the usual, you know. it’s really not a big deal.”

“the fainting spells?” his eyebrows raise and he glances at you as he takes a right turn. you’re close to home. “you still get them?”

you nod, surprised he remembers. “uh huh,” you reply absentmindedly. “it’s just work. i guess i’ve been overdoing it lately. but i’ve got the weekend off so… i’ll use that time to get some rest.”

“i was really worried when i got the call,” he says quietly. “you should take better care of yourself.”

you turn your head to look at him, caught off guard. but his eyes are still fixed on the road, focused and unreadable as he pulls up to your apartment complex. there’s not a flicker of emotion on his face – nothing at all to tell you what he’s really thinking. 

“yeah,” you mutter. “tha—” you quickly stop yourself. “i’ll keep that in mind.”

the engine clicks softly as he shifts into park, but neither of you move.

you stare out the windshield at the streetlights glowing against the pavement, casting long shadows that stretch like ghosts between you.

you bite your lip.

you should let him go. you know you should. thank him again, close the door behind you, and leave this buried in the past – right where he left you those two and a half years ago. 

but your thoughts are moving too fast, resisting another dreadful goodbye. this can’t be it. not after everything. the way his voice cracked slightly when he said he was worried – that was real, right? there’s still so much you want to say. there’s so much you never got to tell him.

so blame it on the hospital meds, or the adrenaline, or the fact that he still smells like that stupid cologne you bought him, but before you can talk yourself down, the words are already tumbling out of your mouth.

you don’t look at him when you say it. your fingers twist painfully in your lap, breath caught in your throat. 

“do you… want to come up for a bit?” 

a pause.

you’re beginning to wish you could take it back. to laugh and say nevermind, to play it off like it didn’t mean anything. you glance at him, mouth opening to offer some half-hearted apology, but he speaks before you do.

“yeah. okay.”

it takes a second for the words to register. then another to believe he really meant them. 

you nod once, then without looking at him again – because you can’t bear to see the look in his eyes – you reach for the door handle and hurriedly step out. 

the ride up to your apartment is quiet, awkward in that strange, brittle way that only two people with history can manage. you shift uncomfortably next to him, fidgeting with your sleeves, whilst he stands a little too still. the elevator walls seem to be caving in on him, trapping him with everything he’s tried to run from. you mumble something about the weather, how cold it’s been lately, how you miss the sun in the mornings.

nanami gives quiet, polite laughs in return. tells you about his recent promotion. it feels strange, to speak of something so mundane after everything that’s passed between you. but he’s not sure what else to say, and you don’t press. you nod, your eyes somewhere else, and he can feel the way your thoughts spiral even in the silence.

when you finally reach your apartment, nanami takes the opportunity to look around while you change out of your clothes, taking in the details of your life scattered around the modest place. it’s cute and cosy and has clearly been lovingly decorated. the same warmth and care that used to fill your shared space together – he finds it existing again here. 

he sees traces of familiar items – small, quiet things that tug at him.

there’s that piece of artwork you used to hang on your old bedroom wall, now on the wall of your living room. and hanging above your couch, is the sanrio alarm clock he had gifted you on christmas all those years ago. 

he’d thought it was silly at the time – a childish gift – but your eyes had lit up like he’d handed you the world. he remembers the way you squealed and tackled him on the bed, calling him “the best damn boyfriend ever”. he didn’t particularly feel like it – in fact he had spent most of the relationship feeling wholly undeserving of you – but you announced it like it was gospel.

he moves further into your space, careful not to disturb anything. his fingers brush against the handmade cushion covers on the couch – your mother’s handiwork. the same ones that used to sit on the couch in your shared apartment. back when things were still good. 

when he had the world in his hands. 

on one side of the wall, there are framed pictures of you and your friends. he recognises some of them, like your brother, and some of your friends, shoko and utahime. there are others he doesn’t recognise though, like in one polaroid picture where a guy with weird bangs and too many tattoos has his arm swung over your shoulders as you laugh and strike a peace sign for the camera. you guys look close, perhaps a little too close. 

he winces at that thought. 

he has no right to feel that way. not anymore. 

and he knows that, he knows what he walked away from, the vast expanse of everything he gave up, but it hits him all the same – how much of your life he’s missed. how much you’ve lived and grown without him.

nanami can’t help but feel a little out of place. standing in your apartment and seeing these snapshots of your life makes him realise how little he knows about you now. the life you evidently worked hard to rebuild after your breakup with him.

he observes how happy you look in all the photos, your smile bright and beaming – nothing at all like how you looked in the final few months of your relationship. exhausted, dull eyes, and always one breath away from breaking down. 

back then, he felt like couldn’t reach you no matter how hard he tried. or maybe he stopped trying, because the guilt of failing you became too much.

your relationship hadn’t been in a good place, with his frequent travelling for work, your mother falling ill abruptly, and the both of you trying to stay afloat in the middle of weathering separate storms. he knew the love was still there – it was still loud and palpable – but the space between you only stretched wider and wider. 

his love didn’t feel like it was enough to hold you together.

nanami remembers that last night like it was yesterday. maybe he had replayed it in his head too many times, like a form of punishment he wanted to inflict upon himself. a thousand moments of disconnect, of mutually failed bids for affection, and of pent up frustration boiled over in a single fight. he said things that couldn’t be unsaid. you had done the same. 

when you told him to leave, your eyes red and glassy, pushing uselessly against his chest as he stood frozen in your doorway, something in him just snapped. it could have been the exhaustion. or it could have been the unbearable guilt of watching the person he loved look at him like he was the thing hurting her the most. 

he thought you might have been better off without him. 

so he listened.

he had done exactly that for the past two and a half years, even packing up his life in a suitcase and taking a new position in kyoto, so he could honour your wishes. sure, tokyo’s a big city, but there’s no place far enough to run to when you’re nursing a broken heart. 

god, what was he even doing up here? 

he’s beginning to regret agreeing to come up when you suddenly reemerge from the bedroom, your work clothes now swapped for an oversized t-shirt that barely covered your upper thighs. he catches himself looking for a fraction of a second too long and quickly averts his gaze. 

“all done,” you call, padding down the hallway. “sorry for the mess,” you say sheepishly, gesturing vaguely around the apartment. “i wasn’t expecting anyone over.”

“no, i should be the one apologising. i’m the one imposing on you,” nanami mutters.

“it’s really okay! i don’t have any plans for tonight anyway,” you reassure. “do you want anything to drink?”

“just a glass of water, thanks.”

he drags out a chair and takes a seat at the kitchen counter, leaning forward and watching as you quickly wash up some leftover dishes in your sink. the scene feels awfully… familiar. too familiar.

it’s a strange feeling, comforting, yet unsettling all at once. there’s an undeniable domesticity to the moment and he feels a heavy ache making its way back in his heart. 

it calls him back to shared laughter around the dinner table, the comfort lovingly infused in homemade meals, late nights spent draped over each other on the living room couch. two lives intertwined with each other, and the promise of forever that was so close to coming true.

(“kentooooo,” you would tease, nuzzling up close against him. “i love you the most in the whole wide world.”

he would say it back, just as earnestly.

and silently, he’d swear to god to let him die a cursed man before ever breaking your heart.)

it hurts.

he wonders if it hurts you too.

he peers at you, your head down whilst you remain concentrated on the last few dirty plates. if it does, it hasn’t shown on your face at all. besides your initial shock of seeing him, he hasn’t been able to get a read on your emotions.

he knows he should probably say something of substance, something meaningful. try to address the elephant in the room. 

he clears his throat. “how… have you been?”

you pause for a moment, setting a glass of water down in front of him before meeting his gaze. “i’ve been okay,” you say earnestly. “things have been a little hectic at work, but it should calm down a little once the busy season is over. what about you?”

nanami takes a sip of water, nodding slowly, his mind turning over what to say. 

truthfully, things have never been the same for him since the breakup. he’s always been a man of routine - a man who thrives on structure, a man who finds comfort in the predictability of his day-to-day life. he hated change, avoided it wherever possible. you leaving forced his world to change in a way he couldn’t control, and it had killed him a little inside.

of course, he had tried to distract himself. he buried his nose into work, something entirely out of character for a man like him, dedicated himself to the gym, said yes to more invitations from friends, and tried his best to forget. 

so far, none of that has ever worked.

there’s a tear in his heart that bleeds like a fresh wound every time something reminds him of you. it rips open at the seams even at the most mundane things – a song, a smell, a dog he saw on the street that looked like the one you always talked about wanting after settling down.

sometimes, he tries to wrap it up in bandages, crafted out of routine and distraction, praying that one day it’ll finally scab over, so that all he’ll be left with is a vague scar in the shape of you. 

but then other times… he picks at it. agitates it on purpose, just to feel closer to you again. a man who can’t help but run back into the blade, the reflection of you on the knife’s edge is what he tells himself he has to be content with. 

“the same as usual,” he shrugs, struggling to keep his face carefully blank. “you know how it can be.”

you hum in understanding, tiptoeing to open a cupboard to rummage for something. your shirt rises up your thighs and he quickly looks down, setting the glass of water down with too much force.

“yeah, work can be like that, huh?” you say empathetically. 

his mind is drifting, barely catching your words. it goes quiet again and the silence stretches between you, heavy and unresolved.

then, before he can stop himself, wincing as soon as the words leave his mouth, he blurts out, “are you seeing anyone? would he… be okay with me being up here?”

your eyebrows raise, and you seem taken aback by his sudden question. “no,” you laugh lightly, shaking your head. “that hasn’t really been a priority for me lately.”

“really?” self control has abandoned him. he shouldn’t be asking you this, he has no place in your life, but he can’t help himself.

“when we were younger, you used to say that you wanted to be married by 26.”

“things change, i guess. i was a lot younger, and a lot more naive,” you shrug, looking away. nanami tries not to take that personally. 

“what about you?” you turn to face him, eyes searching his. “any lucky lady?”

he shakes his head, “hasn’t been a priority for me either.”

again, nanami studies your face carefully, searching for any hints of creeping resentment, anger, hurt, of anything, towards him. after all… he had ruined that for you, hadn’t he? if the break up hadn’t happened, he’s sure the both of you would have been married by now. 

he comes up empty-handed. no anger, no blame, no bitterness on your face. just… nothing. maybe you got better at maintaining a facade, or maybe you had just fully moved on from him.

he isn’t sure if he likes either possibility.

he should be happy, he tells himself, to see you living a full life, even after him. it’s all he had wished for – for you to find true happiness, even if it meant him no longer being a part of your life. but it’s standing here, in your house, looking at your face, hearing the sound of your voice after so many years, that makes his conviction waiver. the sight of you is too painful to bear.

his throat feels unbearably tight, and there’s a twisting, gnawing ache in his stomach that refuses to let up. 

“hey, which one do you prefer?” you ask then, holding up two different flavours of instant noodles. “sorry, i would whip up something better, but i haven’t done the groceries y–”

god.

he isn’t strong enough for this.

he can’t sit here and pretend that everything is okay. not with the reminders of what he once had, of what he could have had, scattered all around him, mocking him. 

the chair scraps against the floor in a sharp, screeching sound as he abruptly stands, heart pounding against his chest. 

“–i’m sorry. i should go.”

your lips part, and your hands slowly lower to rest on the countertop, staring at the noodles you’d just gotten out. he sees it – shock, then confusion, then something pained flickering behind your eyes, but before you can say anything, he’s already moving toward the door.

you remain completely silent. 

he doesn’t even leave a moment to take a last glance at your face, trembling fingers already reaching for the doorknob to yank it open. but just as he’s about to turn it, your voice stops him cold. 

“you’re leaving again.”

the bitterness in your tone cuts through the air. nanami turns to face you slowly, his movements stiff and hesitant.

“w–what?”

“you’re leaving again,” you repeat shakily. 

“i…” his eyes are trained on the floor, avoiding your gaze. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have come up.”

at that, you let out a quiet, mirthless laugh. “you shouldn’t have come?” you echo, shaking your head. “i never pegged you as such a coward, nanami.”

feeling impending tears prick at your eyes, you quickly turn your back towards him, not wanting him to see you crumble. 

you feel as though you’ve been punched in the gut, nails curling into the table edge with a desperate, white-knuckled grip as you try to steady yourself. 

“okay. leave then. that’s what you do best anyway.” 

you try your best to sound uncaring, cold – just as he had. like it’s nothing more than a passing inconvenience, but the last few words come out chipped and cracked as the facade you’re been maintaining all night finally breaks.

you loved him.

no, you think bitterly. you still love him.

none of it matters though, because he intends to walk out on you the same way he did three years ago. once that door shuts, you’ll never see him again. it’s so cruelly final, so devastatingly familiar, and it steals the remaining composure you have out of your body. 

your gaze lands on the noodles on the counter. they mock you now. a pitiful reminder of your own foolishness. a stupid, stupid girl who somehow thought that inviting him up here might lead to something real, something redeeming. anything more than this unbearable almost. 

the hope that had been slowly building behind your ribs, that had appeared like a weak flicker of candlelight the moment you saw him in the hospital, and had hesitantly grown the entire car ride home, with every glance, with every nervous exchange, extinguishes in your chest. 

none of it matters, and the reality of it all is so damning that all you can do is sob miserably into your hands, feeling like your chest might collapse in on itself from the grief. 

you hear nanami taking a step towards you. “you think this is easy for me?” he questions, voice strained.

you laugh through your tears, though the sound is hollow. “it must be,” you snap, refusing to turn around as you angrily wipe at your face. “i already know how this goes. so just walk out on me, run away like you did before.”

you hear him take a deep, drawn out sigh. “that’s not fair…” he says defensively.

“fair? you want to talk about fair?” you whip around to face him, eyes burning red. “you ran away, kento! you ran to kyoto, you ran so far off and changed your number and disappeared from my life like it was nothing! four years together, and you vanished without a trace? do you know what that did to me?” 

the words pour out. the anguish, the hurt, the sheer betrayal of it. 

“do you hate me that much? you can’t even sit across from me for ten minutes before having to leave?”

“you begged me to leave you alone! you screamed it to my face!”

“no!” you gasp, the pained sound ripped from you against your will. “i didn’t mean it, you asshole! i wanted you to fight for us! not run away! we could have worked things out if you stayed!” 

“i knew we could have worked things out,” your voice crumbles pathetically, shaky and cracked, and you turn away from him, rubbing at your eyes furiously with your palms. “because it was us. us against the world.”

nanami opens his mouth again, seemingly about to say something. then, it closes and he simply stares at you, his demeanour visibly deflating. his shoulders lift, tense and rigid, before falling in defeat. 

then, without warning, he closes the distance, arms wrapping around you, pulling you close to him. 

there’s desperation in the way he clutches you, the way his fingers fist the fabric of your shirt, his hands trembling against your back. his breath is sharp and uneven and he holds you tight as you sob into his chest.

for a moment, you hate him for it. 

the unexpected physical contact – his warmth, his scent, the way his hands fall right into place, the way it still brings you comfort – it sends an impulsive wave of bitterness through your body. anger overtakes you for a split second, and you thrash against him, uselessly trying to push him off. 

“let me go!” you cry out, the sound fractured, torn between rage and grief. 

his grip only tightens.

“leave!”

his arms only curl themselves around your shoulders, a steady hold, an unwavering anchor. 

“you abandoned me!” you shout. “y–you let me love you, and then you left. you left!” 

you continue to curse, cry, and shout at him, letting your words beat and tear at his chest with years of unexpressed anguish.

“fuck you, kento,” you sob through heaving breaths, clutching at fistfuls of his shirt. “fuck, fuck, you fucked me up good, i hate you, god, i wish i hated you–” another wave of grief ripples through you and you bury your face in his shirt.

and yet, he continues to wrap his arms around you, silent through it all, his grip tighter than ever, his breath hot and heavy down your cheek. you fight against his hold until you have no energy left, until your voice goes hoarse and your chest burns.

when the veil of anger finally subsides, all that is left is hurt and betrayal in its place. “i thought you stopped loving me,” you croak, voice barely a whisper. “i thought… i thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

you slump to the floor defeatedly.

that rush of anger is out of your system, and now you just feel broken. you hate how small your voice sounds, but it’s true. 

when you finally peer up at him, the sight stops you cold. 

nanami’s crying.

you’ve never seen him like this before – tears are brimming in his eyes, threatening to overflow as he squeezes his eyes shut to restrain himself. his hands are curled into tight fists by his sides, lips pressed in a thin line, barely holding himself back. 

“i’m sofuckingsorry,” he chokes out, dropping down to his knees to pull you in. “that couldn’t be further from the truth. i promise you that.”

you can only watch in shock, taking in his words.

he takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“i always wanted you. i never stopped. i just–“ he pauses to steady himself, voice low and quivering. “–when you told me to leave that night… i was just so tired of seeing you hurt and not having any idea how to fix it. i wanted you to be happy again, i really did. so i just… i thought you wouldn’t want to see me again. i thought me leaving would be the best decision. i thought it would make you happy again. maybe not at the moment but… eventually.”

you’re about to speak, but nanami shakes his head quickly as he continues on.

“i came back. please… you have to know that. please.” he looks at you desperately.

this man… he was like an unyielding rock, always so calm and steady, no matter what happened. you were the crier. he had always kept it together. your heart aches to see him breaking down like this, with his brows pulled tight and a tremble in his voice that you’ve never heard before.

“three months after, do you remember when i called you that night?”

hesitantly, you nod. twenty missed calls from him that night, and then… nothing. you never heard from him again. he changed his number, moved to kyoto, and distanced himself from your shared group of friends.

you had never been able to understand why.

“three months. i took three months to get my shit together and reflected hard on our relationship. i… i didn’t want to lose you, but my life was falling apart and i knew i just needed some… some time. i couldn’t think clearly. i was in a bad place. we both were. i didn’t want to keep hurting you,” nanami says, his voice strained. 

“i came back looking for you, i wanted to apologise for everything. i was ready to do anything to get you back. fuck, i was prepared to beg if i had to. i parked my car outside our apartment that night and i…” he trails off again, looking away from you.

you see more tears spill from the corner of his eyes and your gut wrenches.

“i saw you with some man…” he continues quietly, the words catching in his throat. he squeezes his eyes shut like he’s both reliving it and trying to forget all at once. “i– i remember how you got out of his car and he kissed you on the cheek and you– you laughed. i don’t blame you… i wasn’t angry. not at all,” he swallows hard. “you had every right to move on.”

“–but seeing you like that… you just looked so happy. i hadn’t seen you smile like that in such a long time, you know? you’re everything to me. you still are. who am i to interfere with your happiness? i thought that even if it wasn’t that guy, someone else would come along, and i–” he runs a hand through his dishevelled hair, voice cracking.

“i don’t know– i wasn’t thinking– i just felt so defeated at the time,” he sighs, covering his face with a hand. “but then i regretted not doing something more, hell, i regret it every day– but then some time passed, and i… i thought i was too late– i thought i had missed my chance. i thought i had no choice but to let you go.”

a sharp pang of realisation cuts through you. 

“–kento,” you choke out. you push yourself up on your knees, your arms wrapped around his neck.

“you got it all wrong… that night… aiko begged me to go on a double date with a guy she kept saying would be perfect for me,” you rush to explain, stumbling over your words. 

“i didn’t even want to go, but you know aiko… she wouldn’t take no for an answer. that guy, he was sweet, but… i didn’t even want to be there. i barely talked to him. fuck, i– i cried in his car on the way home, i made a fool of myself– i couldn’t help it. nothing ever happened. nothing. it was just that one date.”

nanami’s face collapses in grief. “i should have tried harder,” he says hoarsely, shaking his head. “i wasn’t thinking straight. i should’ve called again. i should’ve showed up the next day and every day after that.” he takes another deep, shuddering breath. “i’m so fucking sorry.”

nanami holds you against him for what feels like an eternity. his touch is tender, grounding – his hand rubs small circles on your back, his lips pressing soft kisses to your forehead. he waits, silently patient, as your breathing steadies itself and the sobs fade in quiet shudders.

you lap it all up. in his arms, it feels like he takes up your whole world; the centre of your universe once again. an enveloping, encasing, and all-encompassing warmth that has you forgetting everything beyond the haven of his embrace.

you have no idea how much time has passed, although the sun has completely set, its brilliant hues no longer colouring your living room the way they did when you both had first entered. the sky has darkened, and the gentle glow of your lamp is the only thing illuminating the space.

you sit huddled up to him on the couch for a long time, his arms around you, your knees tucked into his sides. drinking him in. afraid to let go, afraid he might slip away again, like sand through your fingers. terrified that you would wake up and find out it was only a dream.

eventually, you shift to climb on his lap, your chest facing his. he doesn’t speak, but his arms adjust instinctively, holding your waist. 

“kento,” you finally murmur, voice soft, achingly vulnerable. “i’ve missed you.” 

that last line comes out a little shakily. it feels terrifying to admit out loud, especially after all this time. you lean your forehead against his, his lips just a touch away. the distinctive smell of his cologne faintly hits your nose – it‘s aromatic and woody, a unique blend of amber and nutmeg. you used to love smelling it on him. 

he doesn’t pull away, but he doesn’t reciprocate your movements either, and you freeze, suddenly afraid that you’ve misread the situation.

you lock eyes for a moment, before yours shamefully darts away, suddenly feeling very, very small. you realise his body is tense under yours, and although one hand is lightly pressed against your waist, the other is curled into a loose fist by his side, as if restrained.

deep, burning humiliation floods you, and you feel your gut twist. have you managed to misinterpret the situation this badly? you feel the stinging sensation of tears building up again and quickly wipe them away, not wanting to embarrass yourself further.

“i’m sorry, i–”

frantically, you start to shift, attempting to pull away from him and perhaps look for a hole in the ground to hide in, but before you can stand fully, nanami’s grip on your waist tightens, anchoring you back in place.

“don’t.”

you stiffen completely, staring down at him, your expression twisted in a mixture of discomfort and confusion.

“i’ve missed you too,” nanami says quickly. “but i need– i need to hear you say it,” he admits. “i don’t want you to regret anything. i don’t want you to regret me.”

(nanami is aware that this is awfully uncharacteristic of him.

he’s hesitant, for one, and he doesn’t want you to think he only agreed to come up because he wanted to drop a few sorrowful words to get in your pants. and then there’s the confrontation you just had – were you even in the right state of mind to be doing this? was he taking advantage of you in a vulnerable state? 

would you regret it after? kick him out of your bed, saying it was no more than a moment of weakness?

and… and he’s tried so hard to move on, but he doesn’t even think it matters when you’re right here in his arms, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off your skin. your burning touch, your longing gaze, the smell of your shampoo lingering in your hair. 

you had always been the kind to wear your emotions on your sleeve. he sees it now too, with your reddened eyes refusing to meet his, the way your lip has started to tremble with self-doubt.

he wants you. he wants this. god, he craves it more than anything in the world. he detests the idea of you thinking otherwise. 

but nanami knows deep down, after everything, the choice has to be yours. he has to hear it from your lips before he succumbs to his deepest desires.)

“i want you,” you breathe. there’s something frantic in your quiet admission, a desperate bid for connection. “all i’ve wanted is you. i assure you. no regrets.”

“good,” a tug on your waist has you falling back down onto his lap. “because i want you too.”

the admission stirs something primal within you. you lean in, lips brushing against his in a tentative kiss. it feels good. like returning to a place you once called home. nanami’s reaction is immediate this time, his hands threading through your hair, returning the kiss slowly in a hesitant rekindling of lost love. 

he cups your cheeks, you wrap your hands around his neck, letting unsteady kisses gradually grow confident between you two until you’re both left gasping for air, completely lost in each other.

you moan into his mouth, your hands hungrily trailing across his body, from his chest, down his abs, and across his strong arms. you know nanami’s always been a well-built man, and he definitely takes care of himself, but he’s a lot… sturdier than you remember. 

your hands run appreciatively down his upper body, taking in the changes. it’s an intoxicating mix of both the familiar and the new, and you find yourself captivated, trying to commit every contour and plane of his body to memory.

you’re tasting him – just as he’s tasting you, your eyes taking the other in, palms sliding across what has been untouched for too long. the years of distance feel like they’re evaporating like vapour with every frantic open-mouthed kiss.

your fingers rush to unbutton his shirt, almost yanking them open as you hastily make your way down towards his hips to undo his belt. it’s hard to focus though, because his hands have travelled under your shirt, palms warm and rough against your skin.

it’s impossible to contain your moans as his hands trail up and down your waist for a moment, before moving to squeeze at the fullness of your breasts. pulling your bra down at the front, his thumbs graze over your nipples, whilst his palms knead at your flesh ravenously.

you manage to get the front of his shirt open, eagerly pushing the fabric aside. it’s still tucked into his pants, but it falls open at either side, exposing his toned chest and a blond trail of hair that leads downwards.

nanami’s face is flushed, swollen lips red and messy from your kisses. he’s panting slightly too, and the sight of his bare skin sends a rush of heat through you.

“your turn,” he growls softly, tugging at the hem of your shirt.

you lift your hands to help, and it’s quickly taken off and discarded onto the floor. your bra follows next, unhooked and tossed aside without hesitation.

how long has it been since he last saw you like this? your hands shoot up to your chest, wanting to cover up, but nanami’s hands encircle your wrists, gently stopping you.

“don’t hide,” he murmurs, reaching forward to press another kiss to your lips. “you’re as pretty as ever.”

instinctively, you shoot him a sceptical look. 

“it’s true,” he hums, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “you take my breath away.”

his smile is gentle, fond, the one you know was only reserved for you. you want to believe that hasn’t changed. 

nanami’s eyes flicker down your upper body, stopping when he finds what he’s looking for. “you kept it,” he murmurs. “the tattoo.” a finger runs back and forth on the ink, like he’s trying to see if it’s really still there. “i figured you might have gotten it lasered off.”

it’s a subtle piece. 

but it’s undoubtedly all for him.

after his surname in kanji: 七海; meaning seven seas, you had gotten a small, fine line tattoo of the ocean’s wave under your ribs.

“i’m still yours,” you confess quietly. “...if you want me to be.”

i’ve always been yours.

tattooed into my skin and down to my very bones. i was always meant to love you.

he cups your jaw with one hand, pulling back to look at you. “i’ve never wanted anything more.”

his tone carries so much sincerity it makes your heart stutter, so you push that shyness aside and slowly let your arms drop to your sides, allowing him to maneuver you until you’re splayed out on the couch beneath him. 

the world blurs around you.

all you can think about is this very moment.

the significance of what you’re doing is entirely palpable to you. you’re inviting him in, not just to your house, but into your heart again. 

breathing heavily, your eyes follow his every movement in anticipation as his fingers dance across your inner thighs.

nanami’s hands slip underneath the waistband of your panties, two fingers sliding in between your slick folds. you tense a little at the sensation as he parts them, the rough pads of his fingers prodding the sensitive bud of nerves that make you shiver and whine.

“god,” he groans. “i’ve fucking missed this pussy.”

you let out a little laugh at the foul language that slips from his tongue. it’s been so long since you’ve heard his voice like this, and even longer since you’ve felt his touch.

“missed your cock too, kento,” you murmur, eager to show that you’ve been equally longing for him, if not more. you want to hear more of him, so you reach your hand out to palm at his erection. he’s rock hard, and there’s a little wet spot on his pants from the precum.

“fuck,” he mutters, hips pushing up to meet your hand. “it’s been a while.”

you giggle at that, “it’s been a while for me too.”

“n-no, you don’t understand,” his grip on your waist tightens as he struggles to maintain his composure. “you were the last.”

oh.

your eyes widen at that revelation, stopping your movements to fully look at him. “w–why haven’t you–”

you find yourself in complete disbelief. you were the last person he slept with? that had been more than 2 years ago – way more than enough time for things to change, for someone else to come along.

but then again, nanami’s always been a serious man, and by extension, that applied to his love life too. never one to seek out casual hookups, that man dated to marry. 

he exhales quietly through his nose, almost like the answer to the question is too simple, too earnest. “i didn’t want anyone else.” he says. “only you. that hasn’t changed.” 

and then, as he shifts to tug his pants the rest of the way down, he mutters, almost begrudgingly, “and besides… how the hell would i explain this?”

you glance down instinctively and your breath catches.

just above his hip, etched into the skin of his v-line, is a tattoo. it’s faint, but deliberate. 

it’s your birth flower. 

you used to doodle in the margins of your notebooks all the time as a college student, and sometimes the back of his hands became an unwilling canvas. he used to grumble and complain, but he never washed any of it off.  

those silly little drawings. you’d drawn your birth flower once, on his wrist. pointed to it and batted your eyelashes real pretty at him, jokingly asking if he’d ever consider getting a tattoo of you. he’d said no with a resolute shake of the head, told you he wasn’t the type to get inked, and then gave you a kiss and chuckled at your pouting face. 

and now, that very flower is tattooed on him. 

you blink, stunned. “kento…” you whisper. “what… you– you got a tattoo of me? when?”

he huffs out a small laugh, head tilting back to rest on the couch. “call me a masochist, i guess,” his voice turns gentle when he admits, “i wanted something of you to keep.”

your heart clenches. 

“besides,” he continues, poking you lightly at your ribs, where your tattoo lies. “you were stuck with this reminder of me, too.”

it isn’t just desire that curls in your gut now. it’s… grief. love. the ache of lost time. and the devastating realisation that he never stopped being yours, just as you never stopped being his. 

“say it again,” you whisper. “i want– i want to hear you say it again.”

“i only want you.” nanami must have realised how much you needed to hear that, the same way he had needed your confirmation earlier, because his voice is more resolute this time.

“i need you to know that i’m not the same person i was before,” he says, voice low and laced with urgency. “after we broke up, i took a hard look at myself. if you… if you do give me a chance, i promise it won’t be the same way. i’ll never let you go again.”

you nod your head, blinking away fresh tears and hoping he sees your answer written plain as day on your face. he leans up to kiss you, and there’s nothing rushed about it this time. he takes his time, kissing you like you’re something sacred, thumbs brushing along your jaw with a reverent touch. 

he’s kissing you the way he should have for every lost second with you.

a kiss goodbye when he leaves for work.

a goodnight kiss on your forehead, right before he turns out the lights.

a kiss on your cheek, just to see you smile.

a slow, languid kiss down the column of your throat, pressing into the spot just beneath your jaw – the one that always made your breath hitch. he remembers. of course he remembers.

“this–” his hand moves to cup yours, guiding your movements as he slowly drags your hand over his cock. “–s’all for you, sweetheart.”

a breathy moan involuntarily leaves your mouth, further spurred on by his words. he feels so big, his erection pulling the fabric tight across his boxers. and he called you sweetheart. it’s a simple word, but it kind of leaves you feeling dizzy, like a schoolgirl with a crush, nervous and blushing.

“you want my fingers?”

you whine and nod your head eagerly. 

“use your words, love,” he coaxes. “you know i’ll give you anything you ask for.”

love. there it is again.

you squirm a little, trying to evade his gaze. “w–want your f–fingers, kento. want them inside me.”

“that’s it,” he purrs. 

one hand reaches for the back of your neck, holding you tenderly as he peppers kisses on your lips and all over your neck.

the other hand, though, moves deviously between your thighs, a singular digit plunging into your soaked cunt. one quickly becomes two as he stretches you out with his fingers, the expert movements leaving you gripping the sheets and gasping.

“let me make up for lost time…” you gasp when he drops to his knees in front of you, hiking your legs over his broad shoulders. his mouth finds its way to your sensitive clit, drawing quick flicks with his tongue. 

your thighs involuntarily squeeze around his head, and he simply groans into your cunt. the sound vibrates across your core, and you cry out, tipping your head back as pleasure washes over you.

“k–kento. kento, fuck–”

his fingers continue curling upwards, brushing against your sweet spot, never letting up for even a split second. he doesn’t show signs of stopping, even when your fingers tangle in his hair and your thighs quiver around him.

(and when you cum undone on his fingers, shaking and mewling, nanami relishes the way you gasp into his mouth, back arching off the couch as all sorts of pretty sounds drip from your flushed lips.

i love you.

i still love you, after all this time.

he doesn’t say it out loud – no, it isn’t the right time. 

but he repeats it loudly enough inside his head, hoping that somehow, you might hear it too.)

hungry for more, you tug him upwards, off his knees and push him back down onto the couch. you capture him in a heated kiss, his mouth still wet with your slick, and he makes quick work of his boxers, the urgency and hunger growing.

“kento,” you beg, dizzy with need. “i– i want it so bad. give me everything.”

nanami audibly groans when he hears you say that, his voice low and raspy. 

when you pull back to glance down, your breath catches.

“fuck.”

he cocks his head at you, amused. “you act like it’s the first time seeing it.”

“w-well, no… but–” like you said, it’s been a while.

nanami pauses, mistaking your reaction as a sign of hesitation. “do you still want to do this?” he asks, dutifully seeking your confirmation.

ever the gentleman. truly, it was endearing. if you weren’t so frustratingly desperate for him, you would have scoffed or huffed a laugh. 

“kento,” you plead. “i appreciate you asking, but i need you to fuck me. i might… die if you don’t.”

you pull him down by the shoulders so you’re beneath him, his arms holding himself up by your head. the couch isn’t the most comfortable, but you don’t want to pause to move to the bedroom, hating the thought of having to stop for even a second.

nanami actually laughs at this, an amused smile on his face. you can’t help but return a dopey smile of your own, but that’s quickly wiped clean off your face when you feel the tip of his cock rubbing briefly against your entrance before starting to ease in, inch by inch. 

“–fuck!” a drawn-out whine escapes you, squeezing your eyes shut as you struggle to accommodate to his size. “oh god, you’re really f-fucking big. wait– wait–” 

“you can take it, can’t you? doing so good for me,” nanami rasps, eyes trained downwards where his cock is stretching your tight hole out. “didn’t you say you wanted everything?”

you whimper in response, trying to force your body to relax for him. your dazed eyes meet his, and his pupils are dilated so wide that they seem to swallow the hazel rim around them. 

he gives you a few moments to adjust, panting from exertion, before delivering slow, shallow thrusts as your breathing gradually evens out and your body relaxes under him. 

“o–okay. y–you can go deeper,” you pant.

at your words, he pushes himself all the way to the hilt, hips snapping against your thighs. your face contorts in pleasure, mouth hanging open as your eyes roll back while he drives into you. you’re trying to say something, but your words are lost in between airy breaths and quiet curses.

“you look so pretty like this, baby,” he grunts.

(you can’t see it, but he can. the creamy ring of arousal at the base of his cock as he pulls out, the slick coating your inner thighs, the way your warm, wet hole seems to be sucking him in with no reprieve. your fingers wrapped tightly around his wrist, eyes shut as you struggle to take him.

it makes him want go harder, deeper - wants to see your face as you lose yourself in pleasure and cry for him, only him.)

“it’s all for you,” he rasps. he’s pressing your thighs down and wide open, and you couldn’t run from his cock if you tried. from your position, you can see the way he drives into you, pulling out all the way before pushing his entire length back inside you. 

“every. inch. s’all for you… only ever been for you. so take me good, yeah?”

“y–yes, god,” you babble. “s–so good, feels so good–” 

he’s stretching you open, moulding you to his shape, and most of all, he’s yours. he’s yours again, yours to hold, to have, to never let go. 

your moans are getting breathier and breathier as nanami thrusts into you, soft little gasps that escape your mouth as you buck your hips up to meet his cock.

“fuck,” he curses loudly, screwing his eyes shut. “you’re s–so fucking tight.”

nanami lowers himself down onto you, sucking on your neck as his hand cups your breasts. you groan loudly when he delivers a particularly deep thrust, wrapping your arms around him as you moan. 

“look at me baby,” he rasps, holding himself up with one hand. “wanna– wanna see your face when you cum–”

he’s hitting all the right spots, and it’s not long before you feel the buildup of heat in your lower stomach, but you can’t even warn him before your orgasm rushes over you rapidly, a full body sensation that ripples through your twitching body. 

“kentokentokento, m’ coming–”

your own release has your walls clamping down on him, clenching him in a vice grip. “fuck, fuck– y–you feel so good,” he gasps.

there’s unmistakable pleasure written in every strained breath and trembling motion as his own arousal reaches a fever pitch and he delivers one, two, three final thrusts into you. then, he hisses as he pulls out, spilling on your stomach with a groan.

“fuck,” nanami pants, collapsing back down on the couch. “sorry. give me a second.”

you giggle loudly, feeling how shaky your legs are when you tense them. “that good?”

he pokes you in the side and you yelp. “being celibate for two years will do that to you.”

you laugh again, softer this time. the room is quiet now, save for the slow rhythm of your breathing and the distant hum of the city through the windows. nanami shifts beside you, brushing a stray strand of hair from your cheek. 

“wait here,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead before he stands and disappears to the bathroom.

when he returns, he kneels beside you with a warm cloth in hand and a look in his eyes that makes your throat tighten. “let me take care of you,” he whispers, and the tenderness in his voice is almost enough to undo you completely.

when he’s done, he lifts you, arms wrapping around your back and under your knees. the bedroom creaks open as he steps inside – it’s not the same as the place you used to share, that tiny apartment you lived with him when life was just starting out for the both of you – but in the dim light and the hush of the moment, you can close your eyes and pretend.

nanami sets you down gently, helps tuck you inside the covers, and slips in beside you. his hands reach to envelop yours, the pads of his fingers tracing over your knuckles gently. the movement is familiar; sentimental. it’s what he used to do when you would cuddle in bed, your body draped over his.

the world shrinks to just this. you and him, as though no time has passed. it’s almost like you’re still in your shared bedroom, tangled up in each other, and unbeknownst to you, there’s a little blue box with a sparkling stone tucked away in his side of the wardrobe, waiting for the right moment to be revealed.

you turn your head to see him already gazing at you. there’s a trace of a fond smile that forms across his lips, and he raises a hand to trace the curve of your nose, down to your lips. 

that’s when you realise this truth: that the ache you carried for him – all this unexpressed love-turned-grief – had never truly left you. you’d simply pretended it didn’t exist, drowned yourself in work, shared the occasional bed with shitty men who could never compare to him, and nursed a bottle or two of wine on lonely nights, but you could never undo his presence in your life.

how his love changed you.

how it made you. 

you’d be lying if resentment and bitterness hadn’t crossed your heart at multiple points in time after the breakup. but the years have whittled away any semblance of that initial sourness, leaving behind only regret and the desire to make things right again, if ever given the chance.

and it’s right here in front of you, the man who was on his knees with his head dipped in between your trembling thighs. this silly man, who permanently inked a reminder of you on his skin even though he had already resigned to living a life without you. who now lies beside you, looking at you like you’re the only light in his world.

your love for him was never a ghost that haunted you.

it was a dream come true. 

so is it enough? is it enough to just be two people, who have somehow found their way back to each other, both yearning for another try?

whatever that answer might be, your heart has already spoken: you don’t want to miss your second chance. 

there are apologies to be made, lost time to reclaim, and parts of each other waiting to be rediscovered. 

and yet, you know him like an old song. you know every single word, carved into the lining of your skin, you know the melody, a soft hum that echoes in the chambers of your heart. you know the pauses, the quiet lulls where the music fades, only to swell again with aching familiarity.

nanami kento is that lingering rhythm, that pained harmony, existing deep within the cracks of memory and longing – an unfading symphony in your soul. your heart was always meant to be his.

you desperately want it to be enough. 

and maybe, this time, it might be. 

a/n: this was fun but also so, so exhausting to write man. like there are were so many emotions happening… but i can't stop myself i like the hurt/comfort trope too much. my favourite part was the tattoo bit like PLEASEEEE THIS MAN?????? nanami yearns 4 u the way i yearn to know your thoughts on this!!! so please let me know what you think! <3 i love reading the comments n tags they make my day

if you're interested, check out my upcoming arranged marriage!nanami fic here. taglist is open <3 oh, and honeymoon drabble of them is here :) because they deserve to get married

taglist: @perqbeth @mierins @francesca-the-1st @mylilsodapop @riellanami @rjreins @b-is-obsessed @aotdump @sukunasbedwarmer @aaaaslaaaan @coolgirl6996 @berry-marys @yokotsu @kamuihz @jjknanamin @bbysredhearts @kyluskaye @tyvalon @expreissionism @aureamediocritasorsmt @shibataimu @chiikasevennn @p1nkfl0wers @obsessedalpaca @nanananaminshi

[makismei]

virgin!reader, fem!reader, mdni 18+ only pls, overstim (what's new guys), fingering, squirting, pussy licking :D

you've only ever let toji rub your clit. truth be told, you're nervous to let him do more. obviously, you've sucked him off here and there to dispel his idea of him pleasuring you in the way he wants.

as much as you want it, as much as you know he'd make you feel so good—you don't want him to know that you can squirt... quite easily at that.

"baby," he kisses your neck, your cheek, "let me taste you, i'm dying for it."

rough fingers tease your clit, he groans at how wet your pussy's become. "tojiiii," you whine, legs shaking because he's already made you cum twice, "it's so embarassinggg..."

"how, baby?" he whispers and his voice sends shivers up your back, "i jus' wanna make you feel good. what are you so worried about, huh?"

you can feel him smiling into your skin, but your silence makes him falter. he withdraws his hand, "talk to me, doll."

"it's—it's just that," you stutter, shrinking in on yourself from embarrassment. his gaze is so intense that you make him look in another direction. "stop looking at me like that!"

he laughs, turning his head so he's able to kiss your hand, his gaze meeting yours once again.

"um, well.. i'm scared that if you finger me or whatever i'll... squirt." you mutter out that very last word so quietly he almost misses it.

he looks at you incredulously, "what? squirt?"

"yes! it's embarrassing okay!" you exclaim, hands coming up to hide your face. "my ex fingered me before he tried to put it in and when he saw me squirt, he said it was disgusting and didn't wanna sleep with me anymore!"

"he what?" toji gapes, irritation bubbling in his voice. he always hated that guy. in fact, when you guys broke up, toji was in a good mood for an entire week—not that he'd ever tell you that, though.

he gets off the bed and you feel your heart drop because you think he's leaving.

"yeah, so—toji! what are you doing?!" you yelp when he drags you to the edge of the bed. you look down at him like he's crazy. there's a feral look in his gaze, like he's getting ready to devour you.

"what does it look like?" he deadpans, "'m gonna eat your pussy."

you scramble to try and pull yourself up the bed, but he grips your thighs so you stay put.

"you know your word, baby." he reminds, not even looking at your face as he takes two fingers to part your slit, groaning at how wet you are.

first lick has your entire body tensing. he's disgusting with it, long tongue covering your whole pussy. he kisses and sucks at your clit, feeling his boxers grow damper at the sound of your moans.

"oh my god—okay! you don't have to—mmmphhhh!" he starts adding more pressure with each lick, and you don't even realize he's sneaking a hand closer to your leaky cunt.

you squeal when he slides a finger past your gummy walls, legs kicking out as you thrash on the bed. back arched, you fist the sheets underneath you as toji's finger prods at your insides, his tongue still relentless on your poor clit, alternating between flicking and sucking.

"pussy so fucking good, baby." he groans against your cunt, "can't believe you tried to keep me away from this."

"i—i just—" his hand comes down on the side of your thigh. it's not painful, just a warning.

"i don't wanna hear your excuses. i want you to cum, baby." he slurps at your clit, "'n it better be messy f'me."

you shake your head, "toji, i can't—oh my god, 'm gonna cum, please.. please."

you don't know if you're begging him to stop or keep going, but toji decides for you when he hooks his fingers up and presses against a spongy spot hidden inside your soaked pussy.

eyes widening, your whole body goes rigid and it's like toji's won the lottery. his eyes gleam with fervour as he hears your moans get louder and feels your cunt sporadically clenching down on him.

concentrated, he keeps his pace steady, needing you to fall over the edge for him.

"'m cumming!" you gasp, squealing as squirt gushes from your cunt, pushing his fingers out. some of it gets on his face, but he pays no mind as he starts to rub your clit, watching with awe as your squirt splashes around.

you're practically shouting as he hurls you into another orgasm, two mischievous fingers finding their way back inside as he makes you ride out your climax.

your hands come down on the bed, fists banging against it as you're overwhelmed with pleasure. toji watches as you writhe from how good he's making you feel, his fingers slipping out of your cunt and shamelessly popping them into his mouth.

"what the hell is wrong with you?" panting, you try to push him away with your foot.

"that was so sexy, doll." he grins ear to ear, redirecting your foot to sit on his shoulder, his head turning to kiss your calf. "can't believe you've been holding out on me."

your body twitches involuntarily and he chuckles. "damn i can't wait to make you squirt on this dick."

"w-what?!"

[makismei]

looking through my works and realizing i should write about someone other than toji but i just can’t

[makismei]

₍^. .^₎⟆ synposis: a little girl suddenly grabs nanami's legs in the park, insisting that he's a prince. he's not, but he can certainly act as the prince charming to the girl's beautiful single mother being harassed by a stranger. word count: 1.5k

nanami can feel his spine practically collapsing in on itself, the exhaustion of the week still hanging heavy.

one too many curses, late night assignments, his damn shower not working for a full 24 hours followed by his air conditioning... the sweltering July heat doesn't make things better, his head resting against the cool window of the bus as the vehicle slows to his stop.

finally.

the only thing that's been keeping him going has been the thought of grabbing lunch at his favorite soba place, a hole-in-the-wall only twenty minutes from his apartment.

stepping off, he takes in the sounds of the rushing water of the fountain and giggling children from the park nearby. it's a hazy Saturday afternoon, and the park is filled with exhausted parents and over excited toddlers zooming across the playground. a few dogs trot behind their owners on the track, a teenage couple nearly knocks him over as they attempt to maneuver a two-seater bicycle together, and-

someone grabs his leg.

looking down, he sees a small child - no older than two years old - grabbing onto his right leg for dear life. his eyes immediately soften, before looking up to look for her parent. not seeing anyone who might fit the bill, he crouches down to meet the little girl's eyeline.

"yes?"

"prince." she responds, tugging the fabric of his trousers.

the comment completely catches him off guard, eyes blinks a few times in silence, before he snaps back into responding.

"prince?"

"you a prince?" she mumbles again, eyes sparkling with fascination, and it causes a small smile to break out across his lips.

"a prince? I... I don't think so."

she frowns at his response, the most adorable huff being exclaimed as she shakes her ways sideways at his denial.

"no. you prince. from book."

a beat passes as nanami wrestles with himself on how to respond to this little girl adamant that he is some kind of royalty, before the girl suddenly raises her arms and stares at him sweetly.

"up please."

though slightly hesitating, he carefully gathers the girl into his arms and pulls her up to his eye level. her right hand comes to rest on his shoulder and instinctively, he rocks her up and down, eyes scanning the park again.

"where are your parents..." he mumbles to himself, more than to her, as the girl seems to take fascination with the pattern of the necktie he's wearing. for someone who seems to have lost her parents, he notes, she seems remarkably calm. to passerbys, it'd look like he was her father instead of a stranger suddenly in charge of a toddler.

just as he's beginning to lose hope, a frantic voice rings out from behind him.

"amu!"

nanami swears his heart nearly skips a beat when his eyes focus and settle in on you. your long white skirt trailing behind your legs, eyes golden reflecting the sunlight, a relieved smile on your glossy lips as you come running towards him. the girl in his arms - your daughter, he assumes - starts to wiggle out of his grasp and he has to tell his momentarily stunned brain to let the child down.

once he does, the little girl is taken into your embrace in one fell swoop, your knees on the dirt floor. you let out a deep sigh of relief, feeling your daughter's warm body in your embrace, before your hands come up to her face. scanning it for any injuries, and a worried scowl on your lips.

"amu, why would you run away without telling me where you were going? i was worried sick!"

your daughter just shrugs, pointing one finger at the man you've not gotten a proper look at.

"prince."

confused, you look to your right, locking eyes with the six foot something god of a man standing next to you. broad shoulders, muscular physique, blonde sweat slicked hair and sharp jawline. he's impeccably dressed despite the heat, brown linen pants and a breezy white shirt, and you almost forget what your daughter has just said before realization sweeps over you like a tidal wave.

"I am... so sorry." you mumble out, bowing immediately.

"it's quite alright." the handsome stranger says, but you can only feel your  embarrassment worsen when you realize amu has probably called him a prince to his face.

"she, uh.... thinks you're the prince from her favorite storybook that I read her every night-" you mumble off, hoping to explain away this mortifying situation.

ah. nanami thinks. that makes a lot more sense.

he could cut you off, he supposes, but a part of him likes seeing a beautiful woman get flustered in front of him.

"i also didn't think she'd run away from me whilst I was dealing with a creep harassing me for my number, so, again, I deeply, deeply apologize-"

"please, no apologies necessary." he smiles, lowering his glasses so he can properly look into your eyes. from this angle, he realizes, he can see how perfectly the dress you're wearing hugs your neckline and count the odd bits of hair sticking out from the sides of your ears. you're beyond attractive. "amu was very well-behaved."

you relax at the stranger's kind words, gathering your courage to ask him for his name.

"thank you, mr...?"

"nanami. nanami kento."

"(l/n). (l/n) (y/n)."

the shy and quiet atmosphere is shattered by the sound of nearby footsteps, and the unwelcomed voice of the creep you thought you'd abandoned rings out from behind you again.

"there you are, gorgeous. thought i'd let you reject me that easily?"

amu darts away to hide her face in between your legs, as if sensing the danger in the air, as you turn around with an exasperated look on your face.

"I told you, sir, I'm not interested." you mutter through gritted teeth.

the 50 something year old man is persistent, stepping in even closer, the smell of cigarettes and cheap perfume overwhelming your senses. he even extends a hairy hand forward to try and grab your arm as he speaks, cooing at you.

"ah, come on. single mom like you? you know you can't raise a kid all by yourse-"

his hand stops a few inches from you when a tall figure suddenly steps in between the two of you, and when the old man yelps in pain, you realize it's nanami whose large hand has intercepted the creep's touch. all the warmth and gentleness that he was speaking with moments ago is gone, his sculpted face now stoic and emotionless as he burns holes into the man's head.

"don't touch her." nanami's seething, voice low and so cold that it sends a chill down your spine.

"and who the hell are you?" the man sputters, surprised by the sudden strength at which nanami is grabbing him.

nanami's response comes out without him thinking.

"i'm her damn husband."

you have to suppress your gasp of surprise, heart thundering inside your chest, as his tall figure doesn't waver whilst standing protectively between you and the stranger.

"and i refuse to tolerate such disgusting behavior against her, especially in front of my daughter." his tone leaves no room for argument, his muscles flexing under his shirt with each aggreived breath he takes.

"so i suggest you leave."

nanami shakes off the man's hand, forceful and strong. the look in his eyes is murderous.

"now."

you've never seen a man run so fast in your life, the man not even bothering to look back as he runs away, nearly tripping over his feet.

as the man disappears into the distance, you let out a shaky breath that you didn't realize you were holding in. letting cold air filling your lungs, your shoulders naturally relaxing downwards.

amu, sensing that the danger has gone, looks up at you then at nanami, before she bolts away from between your legs and her small fingers are grasping at nanami's left hand.

"da....ddy?" she mumbles out, unsure, but looking up at him with so much hope that all nanami can think to do is smile back.

you blink, brain freezing for a few moments, before you're gently pulling amu back into your arms and full on bowing in apology.

"I'm so sorry, kento san, i didn't think she'd uh, say all that-" you're mumbling nonsense, gaze on everything but him, and you're not sure if it's just hot outside or if the internal burning you're feeling is from the devastating embarrassment.

to your surprise, he just chuckles.

"would it be impolite to say i didn't mind?" nanami replies cooly, hands tucking into his pants. it gives you the courage to stare up at him, mouth open in shock, as he continues to explain himself.

"if anything, i apologise for introducing myself as your husband." he adds, sheepish. "i only meant to make the man disappear, but i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable by insinuating we were married."

it's your turn to smile slowly, jittery nerves and all.

"would it be impolite to say I didn't mind?" you repeat after him.

and you swear you've never seen a more beautiful sight than how brilliantly his face lights up at your response.

"... would you two like accompany me to lunch? i was about to head to a wonderful soba restaurant just around the corner."

you stand up straight, fingers light and tingling with excitement.

"only if it wouldn't be a bother."

he waves off your worries.

"it'd be a pleasure."

amu, sensing a lull in the conversation, circles around your legs to grab nanami's hand again.

but this time, she looks back at you with her other hand outstretched.

"mama coming?" she asks, voice quiet, head tilting to the side in curiosity.

"yes, is mama coming?" nanami adds, a hint of teasing to his question.

you resist the urge to smile even wider.

"coming."

a/n: mainly a clean out of my drafts! not sure how much i like how this turned out but i think it's kind of a cute idea and i know you guys appreciate me posting anything than nothing at all. thank you for all the love for on the other fics and for getting my blog to over 600 followers already, i'm so blessed x i hope this wasn't too bad to read haha.

ᯓ★ likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! ᯓ★

[makismei]

jjk men with an easily overstimulated reader <3

gojo satoru 

oh, he lives for it. you whimper once, and his pupils dilate like he just hit the jackpot. you twitch, squirm, try to close your legs—and he just laughs.

“aww, what’s wrong, babe? thought you said you could handle me.”

he pretends to slow down, to "be nice," but five seconds later his fingers are back, curved just right, tongue lapping at your clit like he’s starving, your thighs clamped around his head—and he's thriving.

and when you're overstimulated to the point of tears? he coos at you like it's the sweetest thing in the world.

“c’mon, one more. you can give me one more, right? be a good girl for me.”

literally feeds on the way your voice breaks mid-moan. will overstim you on purpose just to watch your hips jerk and your body betray you.

fushiguro toji 

toji. you poor thing. the overstimulation with him is so nasty in the best way because he is ruthless. doesn’t matter if you’re shaking, babbling, trying to crawl away—he’ll just pull you right back by the waist with one arm like:

“what’s the matter, baby? you were beggin’ for it five minutes ago.”

he gets this low growl in his throat when you clench around him from overstimulation, like you’re just too much. he's obsessed with your limit and loves finding ways to push past it. that smug smirk only grows when your eyes roll back and your legs are trembling too hard to keep you upright.

“you’re twitchin’ like a fuckin’ mess. that mean you’re close again? thought you were done cryin’.”

his favorite thing is when you go limp in his arms after like the fifth orgasm and he has to hold you up just to keep going. 

nanami kento 

oh, nanami is such a soft dom at first, like—he tries to take it slow. he’s respectful. he asks you what feels good, kisses your neck, lets you ride the high of your first orgasm and praises you so gently...

but then he sees how sensitive you are and it awakens something feral in him. that neat composure starts to crack.

“you’re shaking already, sweetheart? just from my fingers?”

the glasses are off. his tie is undone. he’s got your legs over his shoulders and he’s watching you fall apart, murmuring praise through gritted teeth.

“you can take another. you’re doing so well. so sensitive for me.”

if you’re crying or begging, his tone turns into that firm voice:

“no, don’t shy away now. i want to see all of you.”

bonus: he’ll eat you out through the overstimulation while holding your thighs apart with a death grip.

geto suguru

suguru is the sweet sadist. he’ll talk you through it like he’s teaching a class. you say you’re sensitive? oh baby, you just unlocked his favorite game.

“already? you’re overstimulated already? hm… maybe i need to train that sweet body of yours.”

he's calm, in the most terrifying way. he holds you down gently but firmly, with that honey-smooth voice whispering how pretty you look trembling under him. he's always testing you.

“does this feel too good? or is it just enough to break you?”

overstimulation via toys + his fingers = his favorite combo. he loves seeing your body betray you, even when you’re sobbing and shaking, and his lips are at your ear murmuring,

“there it is. that’s it. just let go, baby. cum again for me.”

will overstim you until you pass out with a smile on his face.

ryomen sukuna 

overstimulating you isn’t even about your pleasure to him at first. it’s about dominance. it's about owning every twitch, every hiccupped gasp, every soaked inch of your overstimmed, ruined body.

he loves when you beg for a break because that’s when he knows he’s winning.

“begging? you think i care if you’re tired, little thing? you’ll take what i give you.”

imagine four hands keeping you pinned. two gripping your wrists above your head. the other two… one on your throat, one between your legs, rubbing your clit even while his cock is still buried inside you, relentless.

you’re squirming, crying, mind blank from cumming too many times and he just laughs.

“look at you. can’t even speak. just a drooling mess and i’ve barely started.”

he feeds on overstimulation. you arch away from him? he pulls you closer. your legs try to close? he forces them open.

“your body’s so honest, pet. you say ‘stop’ but your cunt’s begging for more.”

he’s the type to dare you to pass out— and when you do? he’ll wake you back up with another orgasm.

[makismei]

♡ — older boyfriend toji ! who never leaves you out of his sight when he’s around; rough, calloused hands touching any part of you they can, pressing firmly on your shoulder as he guides you away from anything he deems dangerous, possessive as they grip your wrist whenever he craves your attention, violent as they dig into the nape of your neck, cradling your face when he buries deep inside your soaking cunt in the privacy of your bedroom.

your very own guard dog, and he’d gladly lay his useless, pathetic life down for you. he’ll kneel between your legs and feast on the saints table, sacrilege be damned, because he’s never had anything as soft as you, has never deserved it, should’ve never had it in the first place, and he’s going to do it right, he’s going to take care of you.

he’s terrified of what he is against you. how he holds your thighs apart as his tongue licks between your folds, and leaves bruises even when he doesn’t mean to, even when you’re begging for more, reassuring him you want this, harder, rougher, even as he takes and takes, and takes, sucking greedily on your sensitive clit, fingers plunging your tight hole, your broken moans filling the empty void in his chest, surrounding him entirely, irrevocably.

toji wants to get fucking lost in you. wants you to render him unable to return to himself, whatever semblance has survived after a thousand forsaken deaths. he wants to tell you he’s never lost a fight, but he’s never won a goddamn thing either. he’s old, much older than you, and shouldn’t you be running for the fucking mountains? you should want nothing to do with someone like him—if you knew what’s good for you. if you cared.

but you don’t. and toji’s never been a good person, not decent, not kind—hell, some days he’s barely even considered human. he’s not going to start now. he’s keeping you, you’re not going anywhere.

♡ — older boyfriend toji ! that comes home soaked in blood that’s not his own, not a scratch suffered, and growls at the sight of you, so pure, so clean, so . . . untouched by the big bad world out there, and all he does to make sure it will never reach you, his sweet, gentle girl.

but the monster within rages. he wants to get you dirty, wants to fucking defile you, make you understand even a fraction of what’s going on inside, how ugly it is, how hollow and abandoned. possess her, it roars. make her like us. like you.

toji, standing at six-feet-God only knows, and freakishly massive opposed to you, nears you like a wild beast starving and takes your mouth for his own, tongue ripping your lips apart, crimson arms hauling you against his chest then traveling down, hooking under your ass and lifting, close to him, closer, closer, until you are him and he is you, and still not nearly fucking enough—

your back slams against concrete, and then his big hand curves around the shape of your jaw, holding you steady as he plunders and steals and does not let you breathe, his scent strong, mixed; copper, sweat and something dark, much darker than the thought of human blood on your boyfriend’s skin. on you.

you don’t pull away, no matter how scared you are. he needs something from you, and you’re going to give it to him. of course you will. but he’s unrelenting and his grip hurts.

still, you endure.

“open,” he squeezes your cheeks together and spits in your mouth, tongue shoving back in, interlocking with yours filthily. “good girl,” he praises darkly, irises blown out, blacker than tar.

you dare a question when his kisses trail down your neck. “d-did something happen?”

his hold tightens, cock coming alive underneath you. a sinister smile is forming against your skin, cruel and punishing, full of irony and fear. he could never hurt you. there’s not an ounce of him that would truly allow such a thing.

“you,” he replies defenselessly. “you fucking did.”

[makismei]

pairing: geto suguru x fem! reader

this feels filthy.

this whole situation—being sprawled out on suguru’s bed, with the party still going downstairs and satoru banging on his door. it makes you feel dirty.

not only because your hand is muffling your own noises, but because suguru’s hand squeezes your neck just a bit tighter.

then his fingers move again.

shlick. shlick.

you gasp against your hand, a single tear sliding down your cheek and you refuse to lock eyes with him. the overwhelming feeling of getting stuffed by his fingers is making you feel dizzy and you try to move away from him, arching your body off of the mattress—only for his hand to leave your neck and push your hips down.

“uh-uh. where are you going?”

you throw your head back, moaning at how condescending he sounds. it shouldn’t turn you on so much, the way he’s treating you. it shouldn’t make slick drip down his fingers, or have your thighs trembling the way that they do.

you inhale sharply when his thumb grazes over your clit, and your hand goes from gripping the bed sheets to holding onto his forearm for dear life.

“n-no, no—“

he flicks your clit again, his hand squeezing your neck tighter and your thighs try to close around his hand.

“no?” he asks mockingly, his lips pressed against your ear. “you don’t wanna cum?”

he drags the question playfully, his thumb grazing over the sensitive nub again whilst his fingers push just a bit deeper into your pussy.

“not like t-this—“

BANG BANG BANG

“suguru? come on man! it’s your turn now!”

satoru’s voice doesn’t even snap you out of it like it did the first time, it doesn’t make you panic and reach for the covers to save what’s left of your dignity. suguru can tell that you’re so far gone from the fucked out look in your eyes, the stuttered inhales and the way your hand guides him to finger just a bit deeper.

“should I add another?” his teeth nibble at your earlobe, chuckling when you back up your hips as the palm of his hand grazes your clit.

“that’s a yes.”

2025 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[makismei]

this isn't a question but please don't listen to the haters! i just found your account and your quickly becoming one of my favs!

hiii tysm this is so sweet! 🩷

[makismei]

kill yourself pedo

?

[makismei]

cw: smut, screaming, unprotected p in v, toji being..himself. 18+ mdni!

toji fushiguro likes to make his girls scream.

usually it’s no trouble—he’s pretty experienced in the bedroom, obviously. he’s got a record of thirty-two seconds he set a while ago, as terrible as it sounds.

but you—his pretty new girlfriend—are giving him some trouble.

it’s been almost an hour. he’d done everything—oral, different positions, even that thing with his fingers that’s sure to make someone scream. yet you’re quiet, clinging onto his neck, only sounds falling from your lips are small gasps and itty bitty moans.

for your first time together, toji wanted to take things slow— but it’s not good enough. so, toji switches it up yet again.

he manhandles you to flip over, shoving a pillow under you—something he’d read a while ago and had yet to try out. his hands push your knees into your chest, keeping you open, before sliding his cock back in painfully slow.

you don’t complain or make any noise again, you just rest your hands on his big shoulders and hold on. then toji begins—sliding all the way out and shoving his length right back in.

that elicits the first loud moan you’d given him. if he didn’t know any better, toji would’ve thought he’d been doing a bad job this whole time.

and he thrusts again, slow, yet hard, punctuating each thrust with a sharp stop. you go quiet again, closing your eyes and focusing on the sensation of him—and he hits it.

“oh fuck.”

your voice comes out trembling, a little whiny, yet nothing close to a scream. toji picks up his pace, thrusts still calculated and mean. he hits your g-spot so accurately and aggressive, the sensation bubbling up inside you quickly.

toji sees it, heightened senses be damned, his eyes locking onto your expression. you’re biting your lip, squeezing your eyes shut, digging your nails into his shoulder. you’re like a balloon about to pop, pumped too full you can’t help what comes out of your mouth.

“fuck! fuck you!” you scream, eyes shooting open wide when toji penetrates your g-spot again, rudely.

“aw, that ain’t nice, baby,” toji coos, knowing you don’t mean any harm in your yelling.

you’re just overwhelmed by pleasure, he gets it—toji knows he’s good. he can feel your thighs trembling, your cunt spasming around him every time he hits that sacred spot so deep inside you.

“oh my god—ugh—shit!” curse after curse falls from your lips, only causing toji’s grin to get wider and wider. your moans aren’t pretty in any sense—each noise is ugly and visceral and raw.

toji is eating it up.

“let it out,” he rasps with a laugh, angling his hips to pound even harder into your tight walls.

your fist clenches together and you bang the side of it on toji’s hard bicep. he doesn’t stop, not even after all your exclamations and yelling, because he knows you don’t want him to.

toji doesn’t want to, either—he won’t be satisfied until you lose your voice.

[makismei]

୨୧﹕fem!reader, meg trying to find ur gspot

megumi’s fucking relentless when he wants to be.

you didn’t expect it—not from him. cool, quiet, closed-off. the kind of guy who mumbles through compliments, blushes if you so much as kiss his neck. but now? now he’s behind you on the bed, hands tight on your hips, chest damp with sweat, cock driving into your cunt at angles so precise it’s like he’s mapping you out with surgical intent.

except he hasn’t hit it yet.

he’s trying.

you can feel it in the way he keeps adjusting—sliding one knee forward, shifting your legs apart, reaching up to cup your tit while his other hand angles your hips higher. every thrust is different. measured. focused. calculated. he’s testing your body like a theory, chasing something he knows is there.

but you’re dazed.

whimpering, breathless, soaked and shaking, confused as fuck because every time you think he’s found it—fuck—he misses by a hair. it’s so close. the pleasure is blinding, but something inside is pulsing, begging, like a button he just hasn’t pushed yet.

he groans low behind you, voice hoarse and frustrated. “it’s in here,” he pants, like he’s talking to himself more than you. “i know it is—fuck, why can’t i—”

you mewl his name, back arching, your hands clawing at the sheets. “m-megumi, what—what’re you—f-fuck—”

“trying something,” he growls, and then—

then he grabs your hips, strong and firm, and lifts them slightly, angling your ass higher, tipping your pelvis up, bringing your cunt closer to him, tighter. he shifts forward, sinks deeper—

and hits it.

“fuck—!”

you scream. not a cute moan. not a gasp. a full-bodied, throat-shredding scream as your body convulses. your hands slap the mattress. your legs kick. your mouth falls open with a sob as something detonates inside you, pressure exploding.

then you squirt.

not a little trickle. not some delicate drip.

it gushes—loud, wet, uncontrollable—as megumi’s cock hits your g-spot dead-on and stays there, grinding into it while his grip on your hips keeps you locked in place.

his eyes widen, blown black, and he chokes out a groan that sounds like it’s dragged from the bottom of his lungs. “holy fuck—” his cock twitches hard inside you. “you—fucking squirted—”

you can’t speak. your voice is gone. your entire body is shaking, twitching under him, cunt spasming uncontrollably around his cock as slick pours out of you, soaking his thighs, the bed, everything.

“shit,” he pants, hips slamming forward again—same angle, same brutal grind—and you scream again, body lurching, nails digging into the mattress.

“you like that?” he hisses, his rhythm suddenly unhinged, frantic, chasing that spot with every thrust now. “that’s it, right there—fuck, i found it—look at you, fucking soaking me—”

“c-can’t—too much—megumi—!”

he doesn’t stop. not when you gush again, not when you sob and scream, not even when your legs shake like they might give out from under you. he holds you up, keeps that perfect angle, pounds your g-spot like it’s his fucking mission.

“you’re gonna cum like this,” he growls. “you’re gonna squirt all over me again. i want it. need it. give it to me.”

you break.

you cum harder than you ever have in your life, squirting again with a scream as your body collapses under him, mind blank, voice wrecked, thighs sticky and trembling.

[makismei]

chat if i lose my 50/50 let’s hope it’s to dehya

[makismei]

smut, 18+, mdni

nasty!toji who spits on your pussy while eating you out just to watch it slide down your puffy folds until it dips to your entrance. shoving his tongue inside your hole and fucking his saliva deeper inside, chuckling against you when he feels you clench around his hot tongue. “you like that, sweetheart?” words hot and thick against your sticky cunt.

toji gets impatient with not having an answer and pulls away just to spank your pussy. “asked you a question,” he barks in a sharp tone, catching your attention. you immediately squeal, voice breaking with a “y-yes! oh god, i love it, toji!” you can barely make out a muffled, “good girl” before he’s spreading your folds open wide, watching as you blossom pink and flushed for him before licking up your slit and sucking your clit directly into his mouth.

nasty!toji who lets his tongue wander when he’s going down on you, slipping inside your ass and feeling your pussy clench around his fingers that are still stuffing your cunt full. “quit squirmin’, mama,” he pulls his fingers out, coated in your slick, just to meanly slap your pussy twice before spreading your thighs further.

his tongue licking around your puckered hole, the one no one’s touched, “gonna let me be your first doll? want me to fill you up the way no man ever has?” his voice deep and rough, eyes flaring with something possessive, getting off on corrupting you.

nasty!toji who fucks you hard just to see you squirt on his chest. his thrusts are nothing short of cruel, swollen tip pushing against your abused g spot over and over again. you feel the pressure building, your thighs threatening to close from the intense feeling but toji won’t have it.

no, his calloused palms are shoving your legs apart and driving his hips even harder into the same spot. you try to warn him, voice wavering with each rough crash of his pelvis against your ass, but he only presses his hand down on your lower stomach, amplifying the sensation until you finally spray.

his chest is glistening from your gushing pussy and you feel a wave of embarrassment knowing you’re the direct cause for the sheen on his abs. before you can think too much about it, toji’s pulling out and diving face first into your cunt.

he licks at your folds, thumb rubbing harsh circles into your clit as your juices continue to flood his face despite you trying your hardest to make it stop. he runs his face back and forth across your silky skin and groans hoarsely, basking in your taste as he shoves his tongue inside your pussy.

“toji!! s’ too much—fuck!” you cry out, muscles giving out as you try to push his head away. he pulls his head back only to spit on your pussy, giving her two more rushed licks before sitting up on his knees once more, stroking his cock and fucking you right back in the same rhythm, a dirty combination of slick and squirt decorating the lower half of his face, coating his lips and that damn scar you love so much.

nasty!toji who fucks you in missionary just to watch you cry. the way he rams his cock into you is nothing short of mean, his eyes half lidded in lust and his fingers intertwined with your own as he holds them above your head. you’re rendered helpless, forced to take every rough thrust of his hips even when it’s too much. your cunt begins clenching around him too tight, the slight pain that the stretch of his fat cock gives you growing more intense with each relentless thrust.

you can’t even help the big tears welling up in your lash line or your bottom lip quivering as you begin to pout at him. “t-toji, it’s too deep. fuck, you’re too deep!” you begin to whine out, head turning back and forth against the plush pillow, body being run for all its worth and feeling the twitches throughout your frame in an unfamiliar pattern—you’re at your limit. and he’s still not through.

“just gotta make sure i get all of it, you know this, ma,” his nose is dragging along the column of your throat, his balls slapping wetly against your ass as he ensures every inch of his cock is snug inside your overstimulated pussy. your eyes shut and the tears begin to fall, your heels digging into the dip of his spine to pull him even deeper, body conflicting itself and somehow still begging for more.

“there she is, that’s—shit—that’s my good girl,” he praises once he feels you pulling him in even closer, head pulling back to look you in the eyes before flattening his tongue against your jaw, licking all the way up your cheek and savoring the salty taste of your tears.

“taste so sweet when you’re cryin’ for it. this poor little pussy can’t get enough even with all your whinin’,” his words are punctuated with a rumbly chuckle before he begins lapping at the opposite side of your face. his wet tongue moves slowly across your skin, the humiliation causing soft sobs to fall from your swollen lips but his hips never stop moving. his leaky tip rams against your cervix with each thrust while he presses a wet kiss to the corner of your eye. “so pretty when you cry, just makes me wanna fuck a baby into ‘ya.”

nasty!toji who can’t help himself from eating his own cum out of your pussy. he’d long since lost count of how many times he felt your cunt flutter around him, coming over and over from his insatiable desire to fuck you for all he’s worth. he didn’t give you time to recover after an orgasm, and if you’re honest, you can’t be sure you can tell the difference between one ending and the next one washing over your overstimulated body.

toji had inhumane stamina and sex happened to be one of the places it showcases the best. he can go for hours, never getting bored of your broken moans ringing through his ears or that frothy ring of your cum that coats the base of his dick. but when he does finally come, it doesn’t mean he’s anywhere close to being done with you.

nasty!toji fills you with so much of his cum that it can’t possibly all fit inside of your poor, abused pussy. it spills out even with him still driving his hips forward to push it deeper, making a mess of your thighs and his heavy balls as it overflows. toji simply doesn’t care and groans out in a raspy tone as he feels his orgasm last longer than normal, his cock somehow still filling you with more of his hot, sticky load.

when he eventually pulls out, he’s immediately dropping to his stomach and pushing the backs of your thighs towards your chest. you’ve never looked so messy before, he’s sure of it, as he licks up the thick stream of white pouring out of your sloppy folds. his eyes shut as he revels in the taste of your combined cum, bumping your clit with his nose while his tongue laps at your quivering entrance as he cleans up the mess he made of you.

[makismei]

Not Just Anybody | baby daddy!sukuna x f!reader

summary: things between you and sukuna are sailing smoothly for once. the question is, will you be able to keep it up while traveling with him?

genre/warnings: hidden child trope, ex-fwb to co-parents to lovers, horrible communication, angst, fluff, smut

notes: no notes today! enjoy the read <3

m.list | part seven | part eight | part nine

“How’s everything been at home for you?” Kento asks, starting the session off with the usual question. 

“Good,” Sukuna says. “Steady.”

“Glad to hear that,” the therapist responds. He means it too, the shitshow that Sukuna calls his life is just now finally starting to settle down. “And your relationship with Sayomi’s mother, are you two getting along? Do you feel like you’re getting the communication you need from her?”

“Yeah, actually.” He rubs the stubble along his jaw while he recalls the last two weeks. 

There’s been some bickering here and there, but that’s normal for you two at this point. He’s able to successfully stop it by just flirting with you. Unconventional, but it works. Not like he doesn’t mean when he tells you how good you look in a certain outfit. You can act annoyed about it all you want, but he sees the way you struggle to keep yourself from smiling. 

The biggest thing that’s happened since his last appointment was you voicing out the insecurities you had back then, which was a shock in more ways than just one.

For starters, he didn’t even try to pry it out of you, you said it randomly over dinner, after he casually mentioned how much traveling you both were gonna have to do. 

He agreed with you, that you were not only wrong about him, but also slightly delusional over believing that you’d be able to hide from him– not that he actually said it. You looked pretty guilty while admitting those things as. He also doesn’t like seeing you that way, so he just listened while you said your peace.

You’re nice to him for the most part, but you’ve been putting in more effort to show him that you appreciate having him around, rather than just keeping the thought to yourself. They’re not grand gestures by any means, but they still matter to him more than you’d know. 

Surprising him with a packed lunch on the days you sleep over at one another’s homes. Getting him a little something-something when you’re out shopping. You even made a quick video montage of him and Sayomi, which just melted his heart— even Kento couldn’t help but smile at that. 

It took everything in him to not come up with a plan to fuck you once Yomi went down for bed, but he promised himself that the next time you two would get intimate, it’d be you initiating things. 

He kissed you right after though, it was sweet. Neither of you pulled away until Sayomi got a glimpse of the treachery and smacked him for touching her mother, giving him a death glare right after. 

Kento laughs, “yeah, kids will do that.”

No, Sukuna didn’t mention the part where he had to hold himself back, he tells him enough and he’s sure the therapist would agree to that. 

“And you’re leaving next week, right?” the therapist asks. 

“Mhm,” Sukuna nods, “on the 15th.”

“Alright,” Kento finishes taking some final notes, “I’ll have my receptionist email you a list of the dates I’m available for video appointments.”

“Sounds good.”

—

“Ugh, why does she have five, six, seven– eight pairs of white sneakers,” you throw your head back and groan, as if you weren’t the one who bought all the shoes for Yomi.

“You’re the one who’s got a shopping problem when it comes to her,” Sukuna lets out a low laugh, taking the words right out of your mouth. 

You shoot him a glare before looking over the closet as a whole, a baby should not have a closet as packed as this, yet here you are. It’s not even messy! She just has too much stuff at this point.

Sukuna was here to help of course, not that he wouldn’t be. He would’ve been here regardless of you asking for help, any excuse to see you and his daughter. But still, looking at all there is yet to pack makes you panic, especially knowing that you’d have to get to your luggage next. 

Sukuna instantly notices by the way you space out and look like you forget how to breathe.

“Hey, look at me.” He cups your cheeks and tilts your head up. There’s nothing but warmth in his voice, even with the low chuckle that comes out of him as he watches you try to calm yourself. “You used to travel all the time to come see me, what’s gotten into you now?” 

You sigh and nudge your head towards where Sayomi’s playing, “her.”

“What are you talking about? Yomi’s an angel,” he says, there’s a tinge of defensiveness in his voice. Of course there is. He’d cover up her murders then take her out to lunch right after if she ever grew up to be a serial killer.

“Not her, but just like… how she’ll react to everything,” you try to explain. “There’s always been so much structure in her life and now she’s going on a plane for the first time, she’ll be in different hotel suites, dealing with time changes. And you and I both know that she’s not always an angel, what if she doesn’t like any of the nannies?” 

Like Sukuna would ever care about that, he likes that his kid has a sense of stranger danger. One can never be too trusting and he’s glad Yomi’s growing up to only like a select few. 

“Then we hire a new one,” he snorts, throwing two pairs of the white shoes you counted into the luggage without a second thought.

Making parenting look easy, once again.

“Oh god, and what if she cries the entire flight?” you continue to panic, “we’re going to be those parents.”

He scoffs, “if somebody says anything about her crying, I promise you they’re gonna have to turn that fucking plane around.”

“That makes me even more nervous,” you frown at him. 

He frowns back at you, mockingly. “Wanna know what I think?”

“No.”

He pauses for a moment, slightly offended. “I’m gonna say it anyways— you’re thinking too much into it. How about just leave the rest of the packing to me?”

“Do you even know what to pack?” You hesitantly ask. 

“Probably,” he mutters, as unserious as ever. “I’ll make a list of what I packed and you can look through it once I’m done.”

“Okay, fine,” you give in. “Make sure to pack everything neatly too.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, waving you off. “Get out of here and go relax— maybe take a xanax while you’re at it too.”

“What’d you say?”

“Nothing.”

On the bright side, you successfully weaned off Sayomi from breastfeeding two weeks ago. Just on time given how you leave in 5 days. You never thought you’d see the day where she would ask for her baba, yet she does with a smile on her face twice a day. 

While it was the best week of your life, it was the worst for Sukuna. You took his offer of taking over night duties to soothe Yomi’s cries after realizing she wasn’t going to get the boob. He was so close to just asking you to do it for one night, but some higher being finally granted him the wish of a full night's rest when Sayomi easily went down for bed the very next day. 

—

The day spent traveling and the flight itself turned out to be so much better than you had anticipated. Sukuna made sure of that— from the private lounge you waited in, to the first class cabin. To no one’s surprise, your daughter cried for a good 30 minutes after take off because her little ears hurt, to the point where she could be heard even if you slid the door shut. Nobody said anything though, you always forget how intimidating Sukuna’s looks are. 

Australia was the first country you’d be staying in. The hot and humid weather was quick to hit you the moment you stepped off the plane, and continued to cling on to you until you reached the air conditioned SUV that took you to the hotel you’d be calling home for the next week. 

And if the air cabin wasn’t impressive enough, there was the 4 bedroom suite you’d be staying in. One room for each of you, though Sukuna tried his best to get you to share a room with him— kept coming up with excuses like the possibility of getting homesick, and how waking up to your tits pressed up against him was the cure for it. 

He doesn’t even try to put logic into his excuses anymore and hopes his charm would do it. While you’d admit that his willingness to wear his heart on his sleeve was charming, it wasn’t going to happen. 

The fourth room was yours and yours only. The only thing that was in there was a desk, chair, and a floor to ceiling window to look at whenever you needed to look away from your laptop screen. Ocean view and everything— this’ll probably be one of the nicer suites you’ll stay in for the next couple of months.

Sukuna comes walking into your temporary office with Sayomi in his arms, while she babbles away about the little stuffed bunny she has in her hands. 

“What do you think?” He asks, watching you look out the window. The weather was nice, you hope it stays this way so you could take Yomi to the beach at least once during your stay. 

“I like it,” you say with a smile. “It’s perfect.”

“Better be,” he chuckles. “I went head to head with some big shot executive for this suite, I even gave the manager free tickets to the game for his entire family.”

“And what’d your manager have to say about that,” you ask, trying to not show too much concern over how easy it is for the father of your child to bribe people. 

“Nothin’,” he shrugs, “he just laughed.” 

Anything to keep the star player happy, apparently. 

“Well that’s… good,” you say with a tinge of hesitance, before changing the subject entirely– food. Your stomach has growled more times than you’d like since landing. “Is there a restaurant nearby or were we doing room service?”

“Up to you. There’s a rooftop restaurant here that you might like, it’s supposed to be family friendly.”

“Okay, let me just get dressed,” you’re quick to say, immediately making your way to your room. Sukuna absentmindedly follows you, like a lost puppy almost. You don’t really notice until you find an outfit from your luggage that you like. 

“Sukuna.” You have to snap your fingers to grab his attention.

“Hm?”

“Do you mind?”

It takes him a second to get what you mean by that, then he scoffs. “You act like we’ve never seen you naked before— she literally came out of you.”

“No shit,” you flatly respond, “now get out.”

—

“Dada.”

You look over at your daughter, who has a plate full of the same exact food her father has, but her eyes are zeroed in on his plate instead. Can’t blame her though, it was risotto— even you couldn’t resist stealing some off of Sukuna’s plate. 

He threatened you the first time you did it. You did it again. He did nothing that second time but move his plate closer towards him, acting a little too over-protective of it for a man as grown as him. And now he’s pretending like he can’t hear Yomi, who’s growing frustrated at her father who always shares his food with her. 

“Dada.”

The drop in her tone makes him finally turn his head towards her. Her little brows are furrowed together and she’s looking at him like he owes her money. What a fucking monster, he thinks for once. Jin was right, kids always want what their parents have.

“Can I help you?” he finally gives in and says. It takes everything in you not to laugh at the way he answered a baby like that, so casually too.

“Yomi food?” She asks, pointing at his plate. 

“No,” he points back at her plate, “this is your food.”

“Mmm no,” she simply disagrees, pointing at his plate again. “Yomi food.”

It’s not even a question now, it’s a demand. He has no backbone when it comes to her, and lets out a disappointed sigh because of it. He grabs her plate and dumps her food on to his, might as well since they’re the same exact fucking dish. 

“C’mon, up,” he says, getting out of his seat. To no one’s surprise, she listens and lifts her arms up so he can take her out of the highchair. She ends up being sat on his lap, where they take turns taking bites. He notices you smiling at him and glares at you, “she only did this because she saw you taking spoonfuls of rice off my plate.”

You burst out laughing at his pain, “I didn’t think she’d stake her own claim over your food afterwards.”

“Well she did, and it’s all your fault,” he grumbles, “greedy like her mother. You walked so she could run— or however the fuck they say it.”

“No, you got it.”

“Fuck you,” he aggressively mouthes, not wanting Sayomi to hear him and copy him.

“Anytime,” you say, before taking a sip of your wine. 

“Wait,” he covers her ears, “really?”

“No,” you laugh and nod at his plate, “finish your food.” 

The rest of the evening goes as smoothly as the entire day— ending it with another glass of wine in the living room, and talking about his training schedule for the rest of the week. Sayomi falls asleep in your arms somewhere around that time, only making it known to you and Sukuna when you hear her light snores in between the small pauses.

There’s something about hearing the sound of you two talking that puts the girl to sleep. You’re not sure if it’s out of boredom or from the comfort of familiarity.

Sukuna’s not supposed to be drinking too much right now, so he opted for a beer, lazily sitting back in the loveseat, right next to the sofa you made yourself comfortable on. 

“Did you figure out where you wanted to sit during the game?” 

“Nope,” you sigh. 

The media’s a bitch and so are strangers on the internet. It wouldn’t take much time to figure out who you are once the sports reporters catch a glimpse of the baby with pink hair and a woman close to Sukuna’s age sitting in the front row. They’d have a field day with it and hound Sukuna with even more questions about his personal life during the next press conference. 

“Do you mind if we watch from the private room for now?”

“Of course not,” he softly says, “there’s 15 more games after this one. You don’t have to sit front row at all if you don’t want to.”

“I know, but I still wanna watch.”

“Do you even know what to watch?” he says teasingly, nudging your foot with his. 

“Of course I do,” you chirp out, “I just follow whoever has the beefiest thighs and hope your team wins.”

“Nevermind,” he says almost immediately, “you’re staying in that private room.”

You laugh at the way he slightly pouts, “I’m just kidding!”

“Nope– don’t wanna hear it,” he holds a hand out, hoping it’d stop you from adding even more emotional damage. “I don’t even know why you’re still up right now, thought you had work in the morning.”

“Don’t you have training in the morning too?”

“Touché,” he chuckles, then takes one last swig of his beer. He leans forward and takes a look at his daughter with the certain fondness only a handful have ever seen. It’s another reason why you continue to push back on going public— little moments like this deserve to be kept away from the public eye. 

“Here— let me put her in the crib,” he says in a low tone, giving you a chance to do your little skincare routine. 

You waste no time taking him up on his offer, supporting her head and neck while placing her into his arms. She fusses a little, but immediately goes back to sleep when he begins to shush her softly. 

Later as you start to doze off in bed, you hear your door creak open. It’s followed by a deep yawn that could only come from one person. It’s not too long until you feel the other side of the bed dip down. You’re so sleepy you don’t even open your eyes when deciding to speak up.

“What are you doing?” you mumble irritatedly. 

“Nothing,” he murmurs, already slipping under the covers. “Turn around.”

“For what?” 

He grouchily clicks his tongue after you ask, as if he wasn’t the one imposing in on your personal space, “just turn around.” 

The only pushback he receives afterwards is an annoyed sigh as you actually listen to him for once and turn over. From there he snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you in, closing whatever space is left between you two. He even finds the audacity to slot a leg in between yours, locking you into his hold.

“Kay’ go back to sleep,” he mutters into the back of your neck. “M’tired.”

He’s more gentle than usual, but as warm as always. Only he could set your nerves on fire, then put them out just moments later. Not much has happened between you two since the night you slept together, only a few stolen kisses from him here and there, yet nothing felt more natural than this. You don’t know if it’s from all the time you spend together or if you’re finally allowing yourself to be vulnerable around him, for once in all the time you’ve known each other. 

It’s not like he made it hard, not in the last couple months at least. 

“Fine,” you cave in— not like you put up much of a fight in the first place. You finally, yet silently, admit to yourself that it’s nice being held by him, it always has been. “G’night Sukuna.”

You can feel him smiling at his little victory against your skin, right before pressing a kiss on your shoulder, then shifting just a little more to get comfortable. 

“Night sweetheart.” 

—

The next five days aren’t anything eventful. All you did was work while Sukuna was away for training, except instead of working for eight hours like Sukuna, you worked for five. The nanny must’ve loved it, working shorter days but getting paid for the full forty hours she was contracted to work for. 

And Sayomi was Sayomi. While you and Sukuna thought the nanny was great, your daughter was indifferent with her and ignored her half the time unless it was time for her lunch or if she wanted a snack. You told Sukuna all about it on the third day and all he did was just laugh, then smothered her with affection when he got home. 

The most eventful day of your week is today, you and Sayomi get to finally watch his game. Crazy to think how a year ago today, she was just a few months old. You were so stressed out from running a new business and you decided to make it worse by watching his first game of the season online. 

That didn’t end so well, the combination of seeing his face along with the postpartum hormones was the perfect combination for eating ice cream and crying yourself to sleep. 

Now here you are— securities escorting you and that same newborn into the private viewing room where a lot of the players' loved ones stay in, for the same privacy reasons as you. Sukuna had already introduced you to the entire team and some of the wives and girlfriends. Instead of spending this time being nervous and introducing yourself, you get to just relax and do some small talk here and there. 

They were all excited to see you and Yomi again, especially Marjorie, who’s been married to one of Sukuna’s teammates for almost ten years. She is a self-proclaimed, certified auntie, which means she doesn’t want kids of her own, but loves having them around… because she can just hand them right back to their parents when she’s over it. 

Must be nice Marjorie, must be fuckin’ nice. But you respect it. 

The game lasts a little under two hours, way quicker than you thought it’d be. Sukuna was right, you knew nothing about rugby, other than it was just a bunch of men running around in short shorts. You keep that last part to yourself though, he tends to get jealous when you make comments like that and can’t hide it for the life of him. 

“Hey!” Marjorie catches you right before you’re about to leave. “We’re all supposed to go to the club later to celebrate the win. You’re gonna be there right? Ren said Sukuna was supposed to come, but he wasn’t sure.”

“Yeah he mentioned it. I’m not sure if I wanna go to one tonight though. Having to work while getting used to the time change has me drained.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot you were still working. No pressure, babe. Some of us are going to one of the more secluded beaches tomorrow too if the three of you want to join. I’m sure Yomi would like it.”

You look at her on your hip and lightly pinch her cheek. “I’m sure she would too. Yeah, we could do that! Text me the details?”

“Yeah of course,” she smiles. “See you tomorrow, rest up!”

“I will!”

—

Sukuna had to attend a sports conference after the game, so he came back to the suite a couple hours after you did. By then he was starving, that much was known when he sent you a botched text message on his way back. 

Sukuna: fuxkcin hunegry order fod

Sukuna: pls

You: okay

Sukuna: Sukuna loved “okay”.

You didn’t even try to correct him or make fun of him. He gets this hollow look in his eyes when he’s that hungry and you just feel bad for him. You ordered him a burger, with an extra patty on the side for more protein. He didn’t even greet you when he came blazing in through the doors, he just went straight to the counter and started shoving food into his mouth as if he hadn’t eaten in days. 

Sayomi was taking a nap and missed the five minute timeframe he scarfed down his food. You don’t know who got luckier, maybe Sayomi. With the way that he was, there was no way in hell he was sharing. No amount of crying or begging would’ve pried that burger out of his hands. 

“Half of the team’s going out to the club tonight, did you wanna go?” He asks, washing the burger grease off his hands. 

“Not really. Marjorie invited me, but I don’t really want to be in a space like that right now. You can go if you want to though, I don’t mind taking over night duty.”

“Nah,” he says without hesitation, drying his hands off with a rag, then facing you. “Would you uhh– still be down to go out, just the two of us? The nannies are on call, we can slip out for a bit.” 

“And do what?” you laugh. “You just ate.”

“I can eat more,” he smirks at you. “There’s other stuff too. We can go to a casino, go to a night market, I could probably get us last minute tickets to the Opera House.”

“The Opera House?” you ask, raising a brow. 

“Alright maybe not that,” he corrects himself, “I’m just listing stuff off the top of my head. We can even just get ice cream and walk around for a bit if you don’t wanna be gone for too long.”

“Ice cream does sound fun,” you hum. “Okay fine, I’ll go get dressed.”

“Atta girl,” he says, looking quite pleased with himself. “I’ll call the nanny.”

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