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satoruhour · 1 year

Note

hello :) may i ask a husband nanami headcanons? your so talented!

a/n: ty anon !!! i hope u like this :3

warnings: (in second half of post) pregnancy kink? breeding / creampie kink ofc, consensual somnophilia, praise, pet names

i. sfw headcanons

nanami is so sweet when he first proposes to you! ofc you have sex on the daily or weekly but when he’s reading his speech to you when he’s kneeling down it’s so sweet that you cry

and this dude wonders why you’re tearing up when his words literally mirror a poet’s LMFAO

nanami proposes at a quiet place only the two of you frequent, to avoid unwanted attention like crowds (he’s just thinking about gojo and how annoying he would be)

but also because he just wants it to be as special as he can make it out to be

honestly, if the whole kuantan thing works out he would love to propose there while the waves and horizon set the scene naturally. like he already knew he wanted to retire from being a jujutsu sorcerer here but he just melts when you’re here too. everything wrapped up in one, and the tear-filled “yes!!!” makes him jump and warms his heart

has a dinner laid out for you and everything and if the beach is deserted he wouldn’t mind having u right there LOL hes quiet but freaky just sayin’ !!!

when you walk down the aisle he cries. really

and is now obsessed with how he can call you ”his wife” as opposed to “his girl”

okay but now on to the domesticity. the dynamics are almost the same: he isn’t against you heading out to earn your own money, and he’s more than happy to be a stay-at-home husband if you want him to, but seeing you in your cute apron has him already thinking of family and how you would bounce the baby on your arm as you prepare dinner

nanami is more doting when he’s your husband, not that he wasn’t before, but he thinks it’s the old age when he sees your leg cramp and he massages it or when you squint at your book so he turns up your lamp to a higher setting

also likes to flaunt off his wedding ring, albeit with flushed cheeks. he does it when he drinks tea, sliding gojo his paper work, polishing his weapon and it’s silent, laidback bragging and only gets annoyed when gojo asks about it

if anyone else does it he’s happy to talk about you lol

is a lot more slack when it comes to his salary and treating you to things, saying things like “oh, it’s okay, my pretty wife deserves this”

nanami does his part of the housework now that you’re permanently living together and pulls his weight — buying cleaning supplies, folding the laundry, buying food for the dog

he doesn’t care much about gender roles and is willing to show you that a good husband shouldn’t just be a milestone to complete and then immediately refuses to participate in household work

deadbeat husbands = boooooo

for now you’re still busy as jujutsu sorcerers, but after a year or two of being married he’s trying to convince you to take less missions, partially because he’s afraid of curses taking advantage of your relationship (not that they didnt before, but now they have a leverage against you) and marriage to hold either of you hostage

but the main reason for the persuasion is because he wanted a kid. and you step back in shock because nanami kento? wanting a kid? it seemed so out of character for him but considering how much he liked to come in you… was already pretty telling

like he loved the dog but also wanted like. biological kids. it was wild, he knows, even when you tell gojo (he’s still a little mad that you did, but it was an accident), even the six-eyes user was pretty surprised.

when the kid comes he’s just. crying again. he really loves you so much, and the fact that you carried a baby for nine months and was in pain for 12 hours and then pushed a whole ass baby out ur vagina? goddamn

you two name her nanami kumiko and he holds her like she’s the only one in the world (besides you), cooing gently as how the baby seem to snuggle into his warmth

he gives her a danish name too: ida, but he’s not sure if he should include it in the birth certificate, so he didn’t

he is very protective of his girl, especially how you techniques seemed to be passed down and how the jujutsu society might be seeking out your offspring in kuantan, but he makes sure no one comes close to the two of you, even asking gojo reluctantly to monitor any news of the higher-ups looking to ruin her childhood

nanami really thinks it’s age now, because he find it so hard to say no to your baby girl whenever she asks for something — whether non-verbal or verbal

is a calm dad, usually burping the baby after you feed her, changing her diapers, etc., even suggesting bonding by holding her close with skin-to-skin contact and you're surprised he even knows about that

you give in when you see that he does it anyway, rocking the baby softly on the balcony with his top off, already knowing she’s going to be a daddy’s girl when she grows up

spoils his daughter but still disciplines her when it’s necessary, but he reverts to gentle parenting when he needs to. learns how to tie hair because of her, teaches her about manners and consent and tells her he has no problem if she decides to punch a guy one day. she’s just confused lol, why would i need to do that, dad?

bless him, she got your kind disposition, but yeah he emphasises that she should stand up for herself if needed

during pregnancy, he’s also making sure you never lift a finger, running across the house to complete errands, going out to buy your cravings and regulating your diet. it’s pretty cute but nanami is sometimes really strict about what you eat because he doesn’t want your health to decline lol

“just one cup of coffee… please?”

nanami only grunts in disapproval, hoping a peck to your forehead can wake you up, ”no.”

okay but that’s a lot, i have a lot of Thoughts

now….

ii. nsfw headcanons

building on that hc earlier abt going from calling you ”his girl” to ”his wife”, he uses it so much in the bedroom you’d think it was a fetish

and you kinda understand it, there’s the jump of your heart when he introduces you as “his wife” compared to a mere girlfriend

honest to god, coming home that day and seeing you cook wasn’t the first time he’s thought of having a kid. it’s happened many times before, seeing you interact with the first-years, guiding a first-grader home after a mission

and sure he’s done it before, but you’re always on the pill and he has really really thought of getting a vasectomy, but then he thinks of how cute you’d look with a round belly, carrying his baby and that glow that he knows he’s the reason for

so the day he proposes to you, he fucks you like an animal, cumming deep in you with choked groans and fills you up.

wedding night? same thing

but what really got him going was after he told you about wanting a kid, and you begging with those eyes of yours is what drove that string to snap. “i w-want you— shit— to fuck a baby into me, kento!”

wheew and he goes insane. nanami loves it when you beg for his cum, legs locked around his body to get him to do it. you’re relentless too, spreading your folds for him as his cum seeps out slowly and soon he’s fucking his cum deep into you again, filling you up two, three, four times

and he doesn’t exactly care if that time doesn’t work because now he knows you aren’t taking contraception so he just does it regularly for good measure.

you aren’t complaining because you’ve never seen nanami so feral when he’s pushing his cum deep into you, whether it’s with his cock or with his fingers. that period before your pregnancy was so fulfilling that you wouldn’t mind pushing out another baby for your husband, if it meant getting railed by a man on a mission to make you a mommy

by god he fucks you on every surface of the house

when you’re pregnant too, you can’t help but get wet bc of your hormones and sometimes comes home from work, tired and needing some relief

he finds relief between your legs when you’re sleeping, talking about how nice it was to get used while sleeping, but you didn’t expect nanami to utilise it while you’re pregnant. you wince and groan as you sit up, but you need to see your husband lapping at your cunt immediately, moaning into your core like a starved man

but ofc nanami is a lot gentler when you’re pregnant. he offers to do the work, thrusts gentler and less impactful, but he still feels so good

a few years after marriage, sex is still an ongoing thing, but it’s converted more into love-making and lazy intercourse because you weren’t exactly young. sure you both would go crazy a few times a week but it was difficult with a maturing kid in the room next to yours.

you both would also take the time to discover other kinks!!! always busy, it was a difficult thing to do, but in between taking care of kumiko and handling lighter missions, you’d find new ways to continue keeping your love and sex life exciting

nanami liked going slow with you too though whispering into your ears endless praises of how you were doing do well, settling into missionary so he could see how his thrusts still had the same effect it did on you years ago

“doing so well, sweetheart. that’s it… my pretty wife’s such a good girl f’r me.”

nanami wasn’t against a second child, but sometimes he sees how much you go through in labour and in pregnancy that he becomes lightheaded with what could happen to you, especially with the unexpected illnesses that come with pregnancies. he told himself he would only grant you another if you ask for it

but then one day when kumiko prances up to you in the midst of her math homework, asking when she would get a little sibling and youre taken aback while nanami just chokes on his tea

yeah, sure, you taught her sex education way before her peers and how babies are made but you didn’t expect to actually ask the two of you straight up about having a sister or brother

that night, you mulled over the decision, and nanami mumbles into your neck from the back, ”don’t worry about kumiko, baby. she’ll probably forget it sooner or later.”

“but what if i want to give her one though?” you mumble, your smaller hand guiding his lower and lower…

“do you want to?” nanami only can suck in a breath when he feels your throbbing cunt, your nimble fingers showing his how you liked your clit to be rubbed. even if he knows you inside out he still lets you do it, “i do… do you, kento?”

his first name is whispered, breaking the tension and nanami has to hold himself back from handling you too roughly, loving the way you grin languidly.

oh, here comes round 2!

omg headcanons are so fun lol i never wrote 1k words so fast since they’re informal and chill

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pseudowho · 11 months

Text

Seasons of Grief

The reader comforts Kento as the anniversary of Yuu Haibara's death approaches, and after, as Kento faces the threat of losing her.

WARNINGS: 18+, Fluff, comfort smut and angry smut, hurt, angst, grief. You know what you came here for, you dirty birds.

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You felt Kento change like the seasons, when Yuu Haibara's death anniversary approached. His signs of grief, the post-traumatic stress, and his guilt at being unable to save his best friend, showed in the most curious ways. Remaining, as always, so outwardly stoic, Nanami appeared to all others unaffected; but to you, who as his fiancée, loved and knew him best, your heart broke softly for him year after year.

Firstly, the holiday brochures. More and more of them, ordered online and addressed to Kento- Malaysia, Australia, New Zealand...and countries you knew he and Yuu had spoken about visiting together after qualifying from Jujutsu High. Backpack tours of Europe. Scotland and Ireland. The Americas. Sometimes Kento mentioned taking a holiday to you, and sometimes he didn't- but you had seen his notebooks and the itineraries he had written, all comfort blankets for him, all escape plans, all safety nets. In one instance, you saw where he had accidentally written Yuu's name instead of yours, then crossed fiercely through, and replaced. He had always insisted you were his best friend. It never upset you that Yuu had been his first best friend.

Second, the clumsiness. The sound of porcelain smashing to pieces on the kitchen floor as Kento tidied the dishes. The quiet swearing as he caught his belt loop on the doors. The increase in minor injuries from missions, and his hushed, subdued apologies to you as you cleaned and dressed his wounds, laying gentle kisses on his temples while his forehead rested on your breasts, quiet and still, shadows long against the evening sun.

Thirdly, the phone calls to his parents and grandfather. Usually a weekly event, they become twice weekly, then every other day, then daily. He could not face calling Yuu's parents; although they would never allow him to apologise, full of guilt, for his perceived part in their son's death, his thumb still sometimes hovered over his screen, the Haibara's name listed on his screen. So, he called his own parents, just to let them know he was fine, and safe, and that you were fine and safe. His grief, he shared with his grandfather, in quiet Danish, curled up in an armchair late at night.

Finally, came the nightmares. Kento would wake up gasping, bare chest coated in cold sweat as he reached out for someone he would never make it to in time. You reached out to take his hand when it flung out in the dark, and he would pull you to him and start comforting you, and start reassuring you, wholly unaware that you heard his deep voice breaking so slightly in his chest. Unaware that he had been crying out for help in his sleep- help that never came when he and Yuu had needed it so badly. He stroked your hair and hushed sweet reassurance to you, letting you know he would never leave you, alone and afraid in the night.

Except, for this night. The night before the anniversary of Yuu's death. Kento did not want you to visit Yuu's grave with him on the anniversary, not wanting to burden you with his regrets. Wanting to offer Yuu the one-on-one time that he offered just once a year.

Kento's nightmares on this night were his most vivid so far. Desperate to sleep dreamlessly, he had sunk his fears into a whisky bottle, wordlessly allowing it when you gently removed the bottle after five large glasses. He had fallen asleep fitfully, tense with terror for the night ahead, but taken by force, numbed by the sweet opium of the drink.

You had curled close behind him, spooning him to you. You fell asleep with your nose to his shoulder blade, your arm barely reaching round his barrelled ribs to his chest, where he had grasped you tightly with his upper arm.

Kento's panicked shout broke you from your sleep in the wee small hours of the night. Chest heaving violently now, you were pushed away to your side of the bed. His hair, mussed and soft sat scatteringly over his forehead, head tossing from side to side, his arm reaching out again. You took his hand, calling his name, but Kento's hand clasped and unclasped around yours, unable to gain purchase. Your heart clenched painfully and you began to panic, unable to wake him, unable to bring Kento back and feeling like he would die there if you left him--

"DON'T HURT HIM-- PLEASE--"

"KENTO!"

Kento woke, shuddering gasps and wide-eyed, seeing Curses in every shadow as he sat hard up in bed, leant back on his elbows, chest and abdomen lurching with exertion. You crawled to him instantly, straddling him and clasping his tear-stained cheeks in your palms. Your face, contorted with pain, all for him, filled his vision. He sat up fully, thick corded arms wrapping you to him completely, enveloping you against his sweating chest. This time, you held him, whispering reassurances that you wouldn't leave him and that he was safe in your bed. Fingers tangled in his hair, scratching his scalp softly, rhythmic, in circles. His breathing calmed, his bounding heartbeat beginning to slow against your breasts.

Gently leaning you away, he wiped his eyes with one large movement. He had never loved you more than when you held him during his pain. He knew he was never less of a man to you, for crying out in his sleep. He knew he could hold his head high outside of these four walls, wearing your love like armour as he headed to battle.

Kento pulled you closer on his lap, nuzzling deeply into your neck and feeling the heat of your core against his hips. In his shirt, and only his shirt, he noted. Sighing against your throat as you felt him begin to harden beneath you.

"Thank you...please-- I just need to sleep." He groaned as you rocked your hips softly against his, granting wordless permission. He shuddered, chest bursting with love and gratefulness, lips and tongue paying homage to your throat while he unbuttoned your shirt. Your pussy sat directly atop his hardening shaft, and you shivered, whining as your shirt fell open, and Kento's calloused fingers cupped your breasts, insistently rolling over your nipples.

Kento moaned softly as you rode him through his pyjamas, cock straining upwards against the soft material. Your hand reached downwards, snaking across his abdomen and trail of hair until you grasped his shaft, pulling him gently upwards out of his clothes. His cock rested against his abdomen, and you swiped your thumb against the drop of precum at its tip. Kento's shoulders tensed and rolled at the sensation, yearning to be inside you, to feel you closer.

Kento took your nipples into his mouth and hands again as you gripped his cock, feeling his pulse bounding there, and you began to stroke him, firm and practiced, from ball to tip. Kento's eyes fluttered closed in pleasure, reaching down to grasp your hand under his, obsessed with how exceptional your small hand felt gripping his length.

Kento's hands left your body to lift you upwards, and you guided him to you, rubbing him between your folds to coat him in your arousal. Still sat upright as your knees and thighs embraced his hips, Kento's hands grasped your waist and gently pushed you downwards. You whimpered at the stretch of his length and girth, feeling so full before he was fully sheathed in you.

He shushed into your hair as you fell forwards against his chest, your fingertips pressing hard against it.

"You're so good to me...just a little more," and his arms wrapped around you, forearms pressing your hips downwards until he bottomed out, groaning and bucking, lips firm against yours as he drank your gasps and cries.

Barely pulling out, you cried his name as you felt him rocking your pussy tightly against him. Kento allowed no space between you, chest tight with affection and holding himself back so as not to squeeze you too hard. His pulsing tip continually pressing against your cervix and deepest walls, Kento gripped your hair at the roots, tipping your head back swiftly to expose your throat, his second hand still effortlessly thrusting you down his length, trying to close the space between you until you were one. His head tipped sideways, teeth scraping down either side of your throat, and you stilled completely, at his mercy as he took his comfort and pleasure from you.

The constant pressure against your cervix, and clit rubbing against his pubic bone, had your orgasm building quickly, and you fell prone in his arms; his hand gripping the roots of your hair grew tighter, and you felt him growl against your throat as his own built.

"Kento...harder...please..." And you felt his hand lifting you on and off his cock quicken in response, his hips raising to meet them, feeling the pressure of his thrusts jumping in your belly now. Your cheeks flushed and your belly tightened as you rocked harder against him, taking the clitoral stimulation you needed to shunt you over the edge. You gasped and cried, his name tumbling off your lips in waves.

"I'm so close...wait for me," Kento whispered against your lips, breaths quickening as his hands thrust you against him hard just a few more times before he stilled, pouring deep inside you, breaths juddering, feeling the fear seep out of him, his own body and mind full of you, and only you.

Kissing you softly, Kento deftly flipped you onto your back in bed. You gripped him by the back of the head, kissing and nipping at his ears, and he gently pulled out of you, reaching to his bedside table and pressing a soft cloth between your legs.

"Stay," he urged. As he rolled aside again to close his drawer, you clung against his back, spooning him again. Kento hesitated, tears pricking in his eyes, suddenly overwhelmed by the love you gave. He allowed you to pull his back to your chest, falling asleep with you, shadows chased away, for now.

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"I've been requested for a mission. I don't like to be away, not today. But..." Kento smiled gently at you, hand reaching out to cup your cheek as you straightened your mission-wear.

"I'll be alright, I promise." He assured you, on the day of his visit to Yuu Haibara's grave, "But will you be? You're going with someone?"

"As always. I'm supporting Ino. It's only a low-end Second Grade apparently. We'll be fine."

Kento's stomach clamped painfully for a second, but he urged himself to relax- she'll be fine, Ino would never let anything happen to her.

You left shortly after, Kento's lips lingering on your own a second longer than usual. He finished getting ready, lunch prepared to sit with Yuu and catch him up on his life and his love, and headed to Jujutsu High. Under Torii gates, past effigies and low soft willowy branches, he found Yuu's grave, surrounded by too many others. Relaxing, feeling the positive purpose of his visit start to wash away the pain, Kento sat, greeting his old friend.

Kento sat with Yuu for hours. He found it just as easy talking to Yuu now as he had all those years ago-- probably easier, mused Kento sardonically, he talks a lot less now. Brushing crumbs off his suit, and picking up his jacket, Kento placed a hand on Yuu's headstone, wishing with a pang that it was Yuu's shoulder instead. Quashing the feeling with firm resolve, he spoke to Yuu, with Yuuji Itadori, and all of his subordinates clear in his mind.

"I'd die before I let them go the way you did, you know. Gojo and I...he may be a moron, Yuu, but we can change the system. I'm sure of it."

Kento bowed deeply, bidding his friend goodbye. Fat drops of rain started to fall, his light suit growing quickly more speckled, a flick of hair loosening and tipping over his forehead. Heading up the steps to the school buildings, and hoping he may run into you there after your mission, he passed another pair of sorcerers, and he froze as he heard a snippet of their conversation.

"...Second Grades died on a mission today. Body's being brought in now."

"Oh man. Just one of them at least. Wonder who it was?"

Kento felt ice-water rush through his veins. A thousand violent, bloody images flashed across his mind, and a wave of nausea threatened vomit. He clapped a hand over his mouth as he lost his footing, staggering sideways into the red pillar of a gate. Vision swimming, rain and red mist clouding his vision, he yanked off his glasses and dropped them into the mud, brown shoes slapping into a run, spattering gravel up his trouser legs.

You. Ino. You. Ino. You. YOU. Your faces and voices flashed in Kento's mind as he sprinted towards the mortuary, feeling sick to his stomach as he hoped beyond hope to meet Ino's corpse there, and not yours. Full of shame and fear, he ignored everyone and every greeting along the way until traditional Japanese wooden corridors made way to clinical white floors, metal doors. Slamming through the final set of metal doors, the scent of chloroform and death hit his nostrils, and he found Shoko completing the sign-in of a single body bag.

Shoko's eyes met Kento's as she reached into her pocket for her phone. Thick eyebrows tilted in surprise, she took in Nanami's appearance, dishevelled, soaked, wild.

"Nanami," she started, hesitantly, "I was just about to call you. Why are you crying? Nanami? Nanami?"

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It had taken a long time for Shoko to calm Kento down for long enough to tell him it wasn't you in that bag. Kento had fallen to his knees, hyperventilating, eyes wide and seeing nothing, as Shoko had shaken him by the shoulders and called for him.

There had been two second-grade missions that day; yours, and another. The casualty had been from the other, another young sorcerer slaughtered in combat. Your phone had been destroyed in your combat, so Ino had contacted Shoko at your insistence, for her to seek Kento out to tell him in person instead of interrupting his vigil at Yuu's grave. Just a misunderstanding, Nanami, Shoko insisted, she's alright, she's alright.

Fragile and exhausted, Nanami sat alone now in a quiet office, hands shaking around a mug of cheap coffee. Aside from the creak of passing footsteps on floorboards, Kento was in silence, only his thoughts for company.

"Nanamin? Can I come in?" Kento didn't answer, and a few seconds passed, before the door clicked open, Satoru letting himself in. His usual plaintive smile on his face, Satoru walked forwards to place a reassuring hand on Kento's shoulder.

"Nanamin. Shoko told me what happened." Silence, again, from Kento. Satoru continued, "Ino just messaged. They're in the car with Ijichi now. Both of them. She'll be back soon. Minor injuries apparently, Shoko can fix them right up, but..." Kento scowled up at Satoru, alarmed.

"I'm not in the mood for your games, Gojo. What is it?" Gojo's smile dropped, face uncharacteristically grim, and...disgusted?

"It wasn't some low second-grade they were sent to, Nanamin. It was a middle of the road first-grade at least. And the higher-ups who sent Ino and y/n knew that. I've suspected for a while that they've been bribing the administrators to rank certain Curses lower so they can justify sending in lower-grade sorcerers, and spare the big clan sorcerers. Saves them money, and it's handy when they don't have the higher-grade sorcerers to hand to deal with it." Satoru grimaced. "I'm going to deal with it, but I thought you'd want to bring them hell too. You and y/n deserve to know."

Kento was silent again as Satoru left. But, this time, he was wordless with rage. A red veil had descended over his thoughts, and Kento found himself close to collecting his blade and hunting down the Jujutsu Headquarters' higher-ups one by one.

How dare they, Kento seethed, up and pacing now, fists flexing pulse points in his temple and neck raised with fury, how dare they send you like a lamb to slaughter, to protect their wallets, to protect their own in the great clans.

His stomach churning, Kento realised now why the location of Jujutsu Headquarters was a closely guarded secret-- they'd have been murdered through spite years ago, he realised. He had only one connection to the higher-ups, and he had reached for his phone with shaking hands, when the door opened once again, and you walked in, scraped and bruised but undeniably, completely you.

Kento dropped his phone back into his pocket and crossed the room in three great strides, lifting you into the air with the force of his embrace. Putting you down, huge warm hands patting you down all over, Kento checked you- scrapes, bruises, but whole, alive. A shaking sigh of relief escaped him. You stroked his cheek, the look of sweet concern in your eyes nearly bringing him to tears. You opened your mouth to speak, but Kento interrupted.

"Get home. Now. Call a taxi, charge it to my card." You opened your mouth again to argue, but Kento silenced you instantly. You felt a chill in your stomach, Kento looming over you, an unstoppable force, undeniably livid, but not with you.

"Don't argue with me. Go home, clean up. Eat. Lock the doors. I've got something I need to do, then I'll be home. And you're never coming back here again."

Kento left the room, leaving you in stunned silence. You hadn't even been able to greet him. Shaken up, you called for a taxi, and made your way outside. The corridor was already empty, Kento's footsteps fading away from you.

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"Principal Gakuganji?"

Yoshinobu Gakuganji sat in his office, a steaming cup of tea in front of him, and he is prickled instantly at the tone of the voice on the other end of the phone.

"Speaking."

"Good. I'd like you to listen very carefully." Cold seeped into Gakuganji's stomach as the man continued to talk.

"You, and yours, at Jujutsu Headquarters, approved two second-grade missions today. Neither of these missions, as it turns out, were second-grade appropriate, were they, Principal Gakuganji?"

Gakuganji's grip tightened on the phone. He knew this voice.

"Nanami-san? I suggest you think very carefully before saying anyth--"

"Oh no, Sir, I suggest you think very carefully. One second-grade sorcerer died today, and you should consider yourself extremely fortunate that my fiancée was not the one brought to the school in a body bag. Because the next body bag would have been yours."

Gakuganji stood, appalled at being spoken to like this.

"And before you ask yourself how I'd have the audacity to call you like this, I'd like you to consider: would you like me as your enemy, after you take from me the thing I love most in the world?"

Gakuganji had dropped the receiver now, staring at it like it had burned him.

He heard the voice at the end of the phone hum, pensively.

"I could be quite the Curse-user, you know."

A faint click as the call ended, and Gakuganji was left alone with Nanami Kento's threats and a lingering dial tone.

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You had been home just long enough to shower and pull on a dressing gown, worry clawing at your insides over the state you had found Kento in. His voice, cold and gravelly, had chilled you, and you needed him home and happy with you to feel certain you had done nothing wrong. Stomach roiling, you couldn't bring yourself to eat. The door clicked, and your heart leapt into your throat. Stepping into the hallway you found Kento, trousers and shoes coated in dried mud, jacket slung on the hooks by the door, tie already off and hanging from his pocket. You could feel the rage still rolling off him in waves and your hands went cold, pushing them round yourself and under your arms.

"...Kento? What's happened?"

Kento's jaw-clenched. He was quick to reassure you, "You've done nothing wrong. I'm not angry with you. I could never be."

You visibly relaxed, and Kento continued, "But you're never going back to that place. They don't care about you. Hand in your notice."

Filled with indignation, you began to argue back.

"You think you can order me to leave my job without an explanation? Please, Kento. I'm not a child."

"An explanation?" He spat, striding towards you now, "Here's your explanation. It has come to my attention that the higher-ups are routinely under-ranking Curses to send inappropriate sorcerers to manage them. You and Ino dealt with a First-grade Curse today, so congratulations to you, but another Second-grade sorcerer came to Shoko in a body bag today, unsuccessful."

You felt cold to the pit of your stomach. You had been convinced the Curse had been an innocent misclassification. You had been overwhelmed, your life very much on the line, and you and Ino had succeeded through luck and teamwork alone. Suddenly, you understood Kento's rage, but couldn't allow him to make rash decisions on your behalf. You inhaled deeply, and let out a shaking breath. Kento was inches from you, cursed energy bounding off him in hot pulses.

"Be that as it may, and we can address this so it doesn't happen again, I'm not leaving my job over thi--" Kento snarled at you, backing you into your bedroom now.

"This is what you want?" He inquired coldly, slamming the door behind him, "For me to bury you? Or, what's left of you? We only had half of Yuu's body, you know. I wonder, did they know that Curse was a First-grade?"

You continued to back away from Kento, unable to quell his rage, the backs of your knees bumping against the bed.

"Is that what this is about? What happened to Yuu? Kento, be reasonable--"

Kento's hand pressed over your mouth. "Enough," he rumbled, voice low and dangerous. You felt heat pool in your belly now, feeling the heat, anger and possessiveness radiating off him.

Kento removed his hand and tilted your chin forcefully up to him, crushing his lips to yours, so different to his usual tender kisses, and his hand slipped under your dressing gown, squeezing your breast hard. You mewled against Kento, pleading again for him to be reasonable--

"I am being reasonable," he purred at you, hands now undoing your dressing gown, stripping it off you, tossing it aside and leaving you naked and vulnerable in front of him, "because you and I both know I wouldn't want to live without you. Why do they deserve you more than I do?"

Kento spun you away from him, tossing you face down onto the bed. You gasped, opening your mouth again to tell Kento off, and as you began to lift yourself off the bed, you felt Kento's knee on the small of your back, forcing you down, and his hand over your mouth. Your breath hissed from your nose in surprise, and you felt Kento, powerful and completely immovable, caging you in.

"So if I am being reasonable, and we know I am, how else can I make you leave that place?" You felt his tongue on the back of your neck, licking a bold stripe up to your ear, before biting your earlobe a little too harshly. You mewled behind his hand again, growing wetter, pussy aching despite your indignation.

"How about I put a baby in you?" You squeaked in shock behind his hand, and he laughed dryly, "Come now. It's not like we haven't spoken about this. Would that be enough to take you off the battlefield?" You felt Kento palming himself through his trousers now, completely unhinged in his anger and desire to protect you, and heard the zip of his trousers, feeling his bare cock dropping, throbbing and huge between your thighs, wet with your arousal.

Kento hummed at you, prone and gagged by his hand beneath him, and slipped his length between the wetness of your thighs, groaning as you clamped them together in surprise. He began to slowly thrust into the tops of your thighs, groaning lowly and wettening his cock. He felt your panting breaths from your nose against his hand, rage still coursing through him at your refusal, his irrational mind placing your safety above all else.

You nearly fell apart at his next question, asked slowly, millimetres from your ear; "Should I be gentle?" A moment of hesitation from you, before you shook your head. Kento chuckled darkly- "Good. I wasn't going to be."

With no warning, Kento angled his cock upwards and thrust deeply into your prone body, instantly bottoming out, grunting with the pleasure. You squeaked behind his hand, arms reaching round instinctively to grab at Kento. Now your body was pinned completely by his, his other hand swiftly collected yours together and pressed them hard to the bed above your head.

You mewled and whimpered behind Kento's hand as he pounded into you relentlessly, owning you, marking you as his own with harsh lovebites to your neck that no amount of make-up would hide. You were dizzy from his pace, cockhead slamming against your cervix and sweet spot, now unmoving and completely succumbing to Kento, allowing yourself to be so used, as he panted and groaned above you.

Kento felt only a spark of guilt as he continued to bully his way into your pussy, feeling wholly justified in his rage, needing you to know how serious he was about keeping you home and safe.

His hand left your mouth to reach under your body, sliding between your folds and pinching your clit harshly, "Loud as you like now, my love." And Kento was rewarded with you gasping his name, before crying out like a song, music to his ears, and his pace picked up again, determined to hear you call his name again.

Your orgasm crashed into you with little warning, Kento's harsh ministrations on your pussy and clit rushing you through your orgasm rapidly to overstimulation, and you squirmed and writhed beneath him, only spurring him on more.

"Again," Kento ordered, growling into the back of your neck as within seconds, you cried his name out again, begging him now for relief.

Kento continued, and you lay spent as he continued to pound you into the mattress, pussy now fluttering weakly around him, and he reached under you, holding your lower belly as he came with a roar, holding you up to him as he spilled himself inside you. You panted, duvet tear stained beneath your eyes, and Kento pulled out to a whimper from you. He appraised his work, using his fingers to push drips of his cum back inside your pussy.

You lay in silence as Kento dropped back onto his knees, head tipped back and cracking his neck from side to side.

"Alright," he spoke slowly, as you laughed into the mattress at his strange duality, "we can talk about it now."

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Love you all, MWAH

#jujustu kaisen #kento nanami #nanami fluff #kento nanami x y/n #kento nanami x you #jjk #jjk nanami #nanami kento smut #jjk fluff #kento nanami x reader #nanami drabbles #kento nanami smut #nanami kento x you #nanami smut #nanami x y/n #kento nanami angst #jjk angst

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onenakedfarmer · 2 years

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Daily Painting

Knud Ove Hilkier BATHHOUSE ON THE LAKE (1939)

#daily painting #Danish artists #Knud Ove Hilkier #painting #1939

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connorsui · 28 days

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▪︎▪︎ 𝓐 𝓓𝓪𝓲𝓵𝔂 𝓓𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓨𝓸𝓾 ▪︎▪︎

Nanami Kento, known for his structured life and efficient routines, finds himself drawn to a quaint bakery he never used to frequent.

Nanami x baker! Reader

Contains: Love at First Sight, Fluff, Shy Nanami (nanami cute tho) , Awkward Confessions (he tryin let him be) Slow Burn, a taste of readers cake (not literally tho.....he wishes)

Warnings: nah suffer the taste of coffee down ur throat

A/N: I'll admit I wrote this at 5 a.m......it's more of an imagine than anything..

Nanami Kento wasn’t accustomed to deviating from his meticulously structured life. Every day unfolded with the same precision: he awoke at the same time, enjoyed the same brand of coffee, and fastened his tie with practiced efficiency. This routine wasn’t born out of necessity but from a preference for order and predictability.

However, his carefully crafted schedule was upended when he started walking down a narrow side street he’d never noticed before. The street housed a quaint bakery that had caught his attention a week ago.

The first time he entered the bakery, it was pouring rain. Not the gentle kind, but a relentless downpour that drenched him in seconds. Seeking refuge, he was welcomed by the warmth of the bakery and the enticing aroma of fresh bread. But it wasn’t just the atmosphere or the bread that compelled him to return. It was you.

You, with flour dusting your apron and a smile that could brighten the dreariest of days. You greeted him as if he were a regular, despite it being his first visit. You handed him a croissant and coffee with a care that made his heart skip a beat.

Becoming a regular wasn’t part of his plan, and neither was experiencing love at first sight.

The routine quickly established itself. After that, first encounter together. Some quick name exchanges and smiles of each morning at 7:30 a.m., Nanami would enter the bakery, greeted by the comforting aroma of baking bread. You’d be there, ready with a warm smile.

“mornin'!” you’d say cheerfully.

“Good morning,” he’d reply, receiving his usual order: one croissant and one black coffee, just as he liked it.

It was a simple exchange, but the warmth of your greeting became a highlight of his day. The predictability was comforting, and he convinced himself that was enough.

On the fourth day, Nanami noticed something different. A bit of flour had settled on your nose. It was a small detail, but it stood out to him. He found himself wondering how it had ended up there and if you were even aware of it.

He wanted to tell you, but the words caught in his throat. He was merely a customer, a stranger who visited daily. He wasn’t sure if he had the right to comment, so he accepted his croissant and coffee silently and left. The image of you with flour on your nose lingered in his mind all day.

By the seventh day, Nanami realized he wanted more than just the brief pleasantries exchanged each morning. He wanted to engage with you beyond the usual routine.

When he walked in that morning, you were behind the counter, arranging pastries with careful precision. The bell above the door chimed as he entered, and you looked up with your usual bright smile.

“Good morning!” you greeted him.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice tinged with nervousness. “Do you have any recommendations today?”

You looked pleasantly surprised. “Actually, yes! I’ve been working on a new recipe—a strawberry danish. It’s not on the menu yet, but if you’d like, I can give you a sneak preview.”

The prospect of trying something you’d personally crafted was too tempting to resist. “I’d love that,” he replied, trying to maintain composure.

You handed him the danish with a look of anticipation. “I hope you like it. It’s a bit different, but I think it turned out well.”

As he took the pastry, your fingers brushed against his briefly. The touch was fleeting but electrifying, lingering long after he left the bakery.

The danish was excellent, but what stood out was the way your eyes lit up when he complimented it the following day.

Nanami found himself concocting reasons to visit the bakery more frequently. He convinced himself it was for the variety of pastries, but he knew better. The real attraction was the moments shared with you—the easy conversations, the warmth of your presence.

One morning, as he prepared to leave, you called out to him.

He turned to see you hurrying over with a small brown paper bag. “I’ve got a special treat for you today.”

“Oh?” Nanami said, a touch of curiosity in his voice. He accepted the bag from you, his fingers brushing against yours briefly. “What’s the occasion?”

“Just a little something to brighten your day,” you said with a playful grin. “I hope you like it.”

“I’m sure I will,” he replied, trying to steady his suddenly quickened heartbeat. “Thanks for thinking of me.”

“Anytime!” you said with a smile that made his day feel a little bit better. “Enjoy!”

The pastry, as always, was perfect. But it wasn’t just the food that captivated him; it was the connection he found in those brief moments with you.

On the tenth day, Nanami arrived early and saw the bakery’s closed sign. He felt an unexpected pang of disappointment. The thought of missing even one day felt unsettling.

As he was about to leave, he heard your voice.

“Oh! You’re here early!”

You approached, apron tied around your waist, a smile on your lips.

“I didn’t want to miss you,” he said, the words escaping before he could stop them.

You laughed, a sound that made his heart flutter. “You’d have to get up pretty early to miss me! I’ll be open soon. You can come in and wait if you’d like.”

He followed you inside, feeling unusually at ease in the quiet bakery. You hummed softly as you prepared for the day, and he watched, captivated by the grace of your movements.

“So,” you broke the silence, “how do you like the new pastries? Be honest!”

“They’re wonderful,” he replied. “You’re very talented.”

Your cheeks flushed at the compliment. “Thank you. I’m glad you think so.”

A moment of silence followed, one filled with unspoken thoughts. Nanami wanted to say more but found himself content just being in your presence.

By the twelfth day, Nanami knew he couldn’t continue his routine without expressing his feelings. His visits had become more than a habit; they were a necessity. He needed you to know how much you meant to him.

That morning, you greeted him as usual, handing over a new pastry you’d been experimenting with. “I hope you’re ready for something a little different today.”

“Thank you,” he said, taking the pastry. Instead of leaving, he lingered by the counter, his heart racing. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Oh?” You looked up, curiosity evident in your eyes.

He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words. “Would you like to have coffee with me sometime? Outside of here.”

Your eyes widened, and for a moment, he feared he’d made a mistake. But then your expression softened, and you smiled. “I’d love to. How about tomorrow? After your usual visit?”

A wave of relief washed over him, and he couldn’t help but smile back. “Tomorrow sounds perfect.”

I consider this an imagine now

#suiwrites🍒#nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #kento x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #kento x y/n #kento x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #nanami kento #jjk nanami #consui says sum #consui sees

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secular-jew · 11 months

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From one of my Danish friends who works for an NGO in Gaza:

HUMANITARIAN ORGANIZATIONS LIE ABOUT THE HUMANITARIAN SITUATION IN GAZA

Every single day we hear from various humanitarian organizations that the situation in Gaza is catastrophic and that there is now only fuel, water or medicine for a day before the famous one diesel generator in Gaza stops, the lights go out and the sick can be treated due to a lack of medicines.

It must be remembered that these organizations have an interest in exaggerating and dramatizing the situation - to put it nicely. In fact, they often lie, and they must know that themselves, because they have their own representatives on site. One must also remember that there is no independent media in Gaza that could check the many exaggerations and lies. Hamas strictly controls what is published, and it is dangerous to question or correct Hamas' censors.

The Israeli defense has a special unit that deals professionally with the humanitarian situation in Gaza. The unit regularly receives information from international organizations that are represented in Gaza, and also builds on knowledge that is generally available. From this we see a more realistic picture of the conditions than what the humanitarian organizations provide:

There is NO shortage of food in Gaza, but sufficient stocks for several weeks' needs. As far as drinking water is concerned, Gaza is 90% self-sufficient. Only 10% comes from Israel through 3 water supply pipes. Israel has recently opened 2 more supply lines.

Hamas has full control over the distribution of medicine and hospital equipment and decides how much the hospitals will receive and when. (Hamas probably needs these things themselves now that they are suffering daily heavy losses given the targeted Israeli attacks on the terrorist organization's numerous military facilities)

Hamas' many rocket attacks against Israel, which continue, have destroyed several of their own electrical lines that supply electricity to Gaza from Israel - moreover, on a larger scale than the generator the media keeps talking about.

All hospitals in Gaza have their own solar powered electrical systems to supplement diesel generators. Other generators scattered across Gaza territory are controlled by Hamas, which also stores large quantities of diesel oil in the underground tunnels. Three weeks have passed since the hospital administrations in Gaza declared that they only had diesel fuel for the next 24 hours. But the hospitals continue to function because Hamas supplies them with fuel.

Hamas is interested in the hospitals functioning because Hamas has their military headquarters inside and under the hospitals, which they have thereby made part of the military infrastructure.

Red Cross employees in the Gaza Strip are from the Red Crescent, they are Palestinians, they protect Hamas. Their monthly salary comes from the organization.

The Red Cross in Denmark, for example, does not talk about the 239 Israeli hostages to which the Red Cross has not had access.

According to international rules/laws, the Red Cross must have access to the hostages, some of whom are babies and small children, others are young and elderly. The Red Cross does not talk about the lack of supervision of the Israeli hostages in the Gaza Strip.

Wonder why?

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

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burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter six

summary: you go to luca's place for the first time and talk about what you might want to be.

warnings: fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst not use of y/n, conversations about divorce, slow burn, baby, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.

word count: 3.8k

listen to: the playlist is finally ready, though no promises that i won't add to it down the line! you can listen here.

a/n: i have a busy week ahead of me so i wanted to get this chapter out as soon as possible because leaving you guys with a kiss and no resolution is just cruel. that and i just can't get them out of my head. i promise that chapter two of 'don't want to walk alone' is coming. let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

part five | masterlist | part seven

Luca doesn’t work nights – not on Saturdays, anyway – his hours are boringly predictable, starting at five AM for his daily pastry prep, while the rest of the kitchen – the ones that work on the line at least, take his dishes all the way to the finish line.

He feels lucky, as he makes his way home from your restaurant, that he doesn’t have to do the late night thing anymore. Most of his colleagues get off of work around two, maybe three AM, before the restaurant closes from Sunday to Tuesday, and he doesn’t miss that schedule one bit.

He’s also feeling pretty lucky because he hadn’t expected his conversation with you to go the way it had. Luca thought he’d come to your restaurant in an attempt to mend things, to reassure you that you could be friends and that the two of you could take a few steps back. Really, he thought that it may be easier that way – perhaps the most realistic expectations for him to have considering it didn’t seem like you were ready.

But then you kissed him.

And he really, really hadn’t expected that.

It’s not that he doubted your feelings for him – he can’t imagine that you’d spend all of this time with him, make such an effort to keep in contact so frequently if you weren’t feeling the same way – but Luca felt like the message was loud and clear the night of the ballet when you’d rejected his ask to keep the night going. He couldn’t hold it against you. You had only been divorced for just under two years, but it didn’t take the sting out of it – not even a little bit. So Luca had come to the restaurant this evening, sure that your answer would be no again: that you weren’t ready, that you just needed to be friends – something he’s willing to, something he wants to be able to give to you.

Luca had agonized over it all yesterday, and most of today, really. He knew that you’d panicked on Thursday, and he was eager to reassure you that you had nothing to worry about when it came to him; he didn’t want you to have anything to worry about it when it came to him. So he pushes the thought to the back of his mind, that one day, maybe a friendship with you won’t be enough, but he figures at best, that it was a problem for a future version of him.

But the kiss changed things – or at least he hopes it does. He knows he can’t force it, but god, does he want you to be ready. As Luca enjoys his walk home from your restaurant – one that’s quickly becoming a well-known neighborhood spot – he heads in the direction of his Norrebro flat, deciding that he’ll just embrace the joy for now; embrace the fact that you kissed him because it’s not like he can predict what happens next.

He replays the moment over and over in his mind: the way that you kissed him when words failed you, the feeling of your lips on his, the way his heart fluttered as he moved in closer towards you so that he could kiss you back.

Before he gets home, he’s got a text from you, confirming that it’s alright that you come over later and he’s quick to reply yes, sending his address along with a ‘just text me when you’re on your way.’ Luca spends a little time tidying up his place in anticipation of your arrival. He makes a quick dinner – something simple, easy, a childhood comfort bowl of aglio e olio – before putting something old and familiar on the telly for background noise.

By the time he’s managed to settle in for the evening, it’s a few hours later, and a ping echoes through his Copenhagen flat, alerting him that he has a message. Luca glances over at his phone to see that it’s a message from you, letting him know that you’re on your way.

His heart skips a beat. Luca takes a breath, before setting his book to the side, and makes his way to the kitchen so that he can put on the kettle.

-------------------------------

It only takes a few moments after knocking on his door that Luca answers, all smiles and nervous energy as you stand in his doorway, with a similar nervous energy.

“Hi,” he greets you softly.

“Hi,” you smile back at him, unable to keep your heart from melting.

It’s now or never, sister, you think to yourself as words of encouragement.

The soft golden light of his living room lamps bring a warmth to his already welcoming-persona, as you step inside. You’re not sure whether you should kiss him or not, the question hanging over both of your heads in a tenuous way, so instead, you let him pull you into his arms for a long hug.

“I’m glad you came,” he begins, his lips moving against your hair.

“Think I’d chicken out?” you chuckle in response, with your teasing question as you pull away from your hug.

He laughs, locking his front door as he says back, “I… think that’s a trick question.”

“Fair enough,” you concede, because you’re not going to make him answer it anyways.

The kettle he seems to have put on whistles, signaling that it’s ready, as Luca hurries towards his kitchen area in the open-concept space. You take this as a chance to look around his living area before you get to talking.

“So this is your place,” you observe, speaking loudly enough that he can still hear you.

“Uh, yeah,” he calls back to you as he fiddles with the knobs to his gas stove, cutting the heat.

You hear him ask you how the restaurant was, how the night went, and you reply, exchanging small talk as you take in the scene. He’s got one of those places where everything has its place, everything has a home, yet it’s warm. Your eyes glaze over the grey couch that maybe seats three, that sits across from a simple, yet stylish coffee table. His bookshelf is bursting at the seams with cookbooks, copies of classic literature you grew up reading in school, and a photo of him and a woman that you can only assume is his mother.

“Tea?” Luca asks you with a raised eyebrow.

“Please,” you answer as you watch Luca moving around his kitchen.

You take a seat towards the center of his couch, picking up one of his coffee table books so that you can flip through it. You run your fingers over the spine, making a note in your head that he seems to have a thing for trainers, examining Luca’s copy of Nike: Better Is Temporary that’s been thoughtfully placed on his coffee table.

“How do you take it?” he continues, eyeing you carefully as you flip through his coffee table book.

As you look up, your eyes easily find his, and there’s something in the way he looks at you, a coquettish glimmer that matches his crooked smile so well that it hurts, and it makes you glad that you’ve already made up your mind about what you want to happen after tonight.

“Just a little honey,” you reply, watching as he drops a sugar cube in his own mug, adding a splash of milk.

He hums along with the lo-fi hip hop playlist that plays softly in the background as he finishes up with both cups of tea, so comfortable in his own space – so comfortable around you. Holding tightly onto both mugs, Luca makes his way over to you placing your mug down on the coffee table in front of you.

He smirks, glad that you’ve chosen to sit more towards the center of the couch and not at the opposite end, taking this as a good sign. You exchange a few more words back and forth, more of the ‘how are you’ and ‘how was your day’ and ‘what’ve you been up to’s’ as you drink your tea.

Really, you’re just biding your time, dancing around the thing that you came here to talk about as you make small talk instead that seems to die out before it’s really had a chance to get anywhere.

You and Luca settle into a pregnant silence once again, before you open your mouth to speak, mustering up the courage to be the first one to bring it up.

“So,” you start, and all of a sudden you feel like a blushing schoolgirl with a silly crush all over again.

“So,” Luca repeats, raising his mug to his lips before taking a sip.

“You kissed me.”

You giggle, rolling your eyes playfully, as you reach for your mug like it’s there for emotional support.

“I kissed you, yeah,” you echo, unable to hide the way the corners of your lips turn up into a smile in response to your admission. “Did you… like… that I kissed you?”

“Oh, yeah. No, it was great,” Luca rallies, enthusiastic yet somewhat clumsy.

“Yeah, that’s… great,” you reply, less than gracefully as well. “Why is this… so hard?”

“I don’t know, love,” he empathizes, his eyes soft as he embraces the awkwardness with open arms.

The two of you exchange a look – one of ‘what the hell are we doing’ – and a quiet laugh acknowledging that you both feel quite silly. Your heart swells, and the fact that you feel joy instead of panic is a greenlight as you decide that you might as well speed through it before it has a chance to change.

“Luca, I-,” you begin, giving yourself time to get the words you want to say out. “I meant what I said earlier – that I really like you – and I do. It’s just….” You pause, shifting your body so that you’re facing him as you confess:

“I sort of… haven’t really dated anyone… not since the divorce.”

“No one?”

You shake your head.

“I just… I haven’t been ready. Haven’t met anyone that I was really all that interested in either until, well till you,” you explain, hoping that it doesn’t feel like you’ve just raised the stakes with your admission.

“So does that mean… are you telling me… that you are – open to this, I mean?” he asks, hesitantly, because he really doesn’t want to get his hopes up.

“Yes. I-, I want to be. I think… I won’t know if I don’t try, you know?” you answer honestly, desperately wanting to make it clear that your hesitancy has nothing to do with him, as you muster up the courage to declare with conviction:

“And I want to try. With you.”

Before Luca can get a word in, it’s almost as if your words get away from you. It’s funny, really, that earlier you didn’t have the words to express what you wanted to say, and now it seems like you have too many.

“And I would understand if you decided that taking a chance on a ‘maybe’ didn’t work for you because…” you trail off, succumbing to the nervous rambling in your head as the words seem to tumble out of your mouth.

“Because you deserve a sure ‘yes’ and I-, I think I’m still discovering what that looks like for me. I mean, this is uncharted territory. And like… what if I don’t know how to do this? What if I’ve entirely forgotten how to date? What if I’m bad at it?”

Luca sets his now half-full mug down on the coffee table before shifting his body so that he’s now a few inches closer to you.

“Then we’ll both be bad at it… at least for a little bit, until we find our footing, that is…” Luca assures you, placing his hands over yours as he moves one more inch closer to you.

And then he says this next part with so much confidence that you’re halfway to believing it yourself.

“...because, I think this might be something we could be really good at.”

“Yeah?” you ask, your voice caught in your throat as you find yourself completely overwhelmed by this man’s kindness, his patience, and his compassion.

“Yeah,” he nods in response, the corners of his lips turning up into a smile.

You pull your hands away, just for a moment, so that you can return your mug to the coffee table as well, scooting a little closer to him this time.

“So… would this mean… that we’re seeing each other?” you ask, contemplating the weight of the words that make up your question. You watch him carefully, searching his face for a reaction as he nods slowly.

“Yeah, I’d like to start. Seeing you, that is,” he answers, his hands reaching for yours once again.

Taken aback by his answer – and that it could really be this simple – you nod, trying your best to process as you mutter:

“Okay, yeah. I think-. Okay.”

“Are you panicking right now?” he asks you softly, a more playful tone in his voice as you chuckle, closing your eyes for a moment.

“Yeahhhh, a little,” you confess on an exhale, only feeling a little silly.

“It’s okay,” he says, giving your hands a gentle squeeze. As you open your eyes, you immediately catch his, and you swear you could get lost in how deep and blue they are. You’re sitting impossibly close to him, and it’s taking all of your self-restraint not to thoughtlessly dive in – your head and your heart at a standstill, unable to declare a clear winner.

“The thing is…” Luca trails off as his eyes flicker from yours to your lips, leaning in. “I don’t think a lot has to change. We already spend so much of our time together.”

You lean in towards him too, wanting nothing more than for your lips to be on his again.

“And we can take it slow.”

“I’m good with slow,” you whisper, leaning in a little closer.

“I just need you to talk to me, alright? If you start freaking out again,” Luca requests, and you know it’s a perfectly reasonable ask.

“I will,” you agree with a slight nod of your head. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, before continuing with your very important question of:

“But not too slow?”

Luca chuckles, and he can feel your breath against his lips as you speak, glad you’re thinking the exact same thing.

“We’ll go at whatever pace feels right,” he declares, bringing a hand up to cup your face, dangerously close to you now as the two of you engage in a game of chicken.

Luca could care less about who does what first, and he’s more than willing to light the match if that’s what it takes. His hand feels hot against your jaw and you can feel the anticipation between the two of you.

“Can I kiss you now?” he practically growls, under his breath.

“Please,” you reply, before crashing your lips into his.

This kiss is different than before – than earlier today outside of your restaurant. It’s no longer a first. And you no longer have curious onlookers, passersby on the street, or nosy best friends who can’t help eavesdropping to worry about. It only takes you a moment to react as you lean into him, deepening the kiss. Luca’s hands are warm against your body, cupping your face, while the other moves to your back, pressing you closer to him – something you’re more than happy to comply with.

The kiss starts out slow, tentative, as Luca kisses you deeply, more than eager to pick up where you left off earlier, but this time with the confidence of knowing that time is on your side. Luca breathes you in as he sucks on your top lip, before pressing his tongue against the seam of your lips. Your hands slide over his shoulders, snaking one of your hands up and behind the back of his head as you savor the way he tastes like chamomile and mint.

You’re reminded of how fun this is supposed to be – getting to know someone new, making out like horny teenagers, dating – as your tongue tangles with Luca’s, chasing his lips like your life depends on it. It’s as if all of your worries, all of your doom what-ifs disappear for a moment, when you allow yourself to relax and enjoy what’s happening.

You said it earlier: you’ll only know if you try, and Luca – and the way you feel about him – really, really makes you want to try.

You whimper as he pulls away, only to be pleasantly surprised as he begins nipping at your jawline, behind your ear, ghosting his lips across the bare skin of your neck. You feel him smile against your skin as he presses a kiss to the hollow of your throat, earning something between a gasp and a laugh from you. You forget how to breathe for a moment with that way he’s kissing you, but when Luca returns his lips to yours, it’s as if he’s realized that it’d be all too easy to get carried away like a runaway train.

He places a slow, gentle kiss to your lips that takes up a full beat, then moves to the tip of your nose, leaving a gentler, more playful kiss there that earns a giggle from your lips. Finally, he presses the softest kiss against your forehead – one that seems to say:

I care about you.

He’s left you completely and entirely breathless as you begin to blink your eyes open, reluctantly coming back down to Earth as you exhale a:

“Woah.”

“Big woah,” Luca echoes in agreement, as the two of you exchange a laugh again.

“In the name of ‘slow, but not too slow,’ I think this means I should probably go home tonight,” you say reluctantly.

“I figured as much,” Luca replies, respectfully.

“But… I’ll call you. Tomorrow. Maybe… we can have a coffee?” you propose, hopefully.

“I’d really like that,” he agrees.

You get up off the couch, as Luca offers to take your mug to the kitchen. You make sure you have all of your things on your way to his front door, before you stop, turning to him.

“Thank you. For being so… understanding, so patient with me,” you say, because it really does mean a lot to you.

“You make it easy, love. Get home safe,” he replies, kissing you one last time.

-------------------------------

Like you promised, you call Luca first thing in the morning, unsure if he’s going to be up already. You assume so, considering he’s at work most mornings at 5 AM, but you figure it’s something you’ll learn about each other now that you’re seeing each other.

Holy shit.

You’re dating again.

And this time, as it all hits you, you find yourself more excited than nervous about the idea of dating again. Of course, it’s not like you’ve eradicated every fear, every thought, every what-if you have about starting something new with someone new, but the fact that that someone new seems to be the source of your excitement.

You don’t spend long on the phone – just an exchange of good mornings, of how’d you sleeps, of you’re on my minds – as the two of you make a plan.

A proper, yet casual date.

A coffee date, you suggest, just like you had last night.

Slow, but not too slow.

It seems a little silly, considering you’ve been on a date before, but you remind yourself that in the end that date went horribly awry, and that although you’ve been to coffee with Luca before, this time, it really is a date.

You decide to meet up at a coffee shop in the City Centre, something about pistachio croissants and getting there before they sell out, and before you know it, he’s waiting for you outside of your place, ready to lead the way.

As you approach the cafe that Luca’s gone on and on about all morning, you spot a certain familiar three people sitting at a table outside, enjoying their morning coffees. You watch as Jesper goes on, animatedly explaining, perhaps this week’s spiciest sexcapade to both Mathilde and her husband, on the edge of their seats.

Jesper, though mid-story, is the first to notice you and Luca’s presence, waving an arm to grab your attention as soon as he sees you.

“Hej! Great timing. We were just talking about the two you,” Jesper calls out, as both you and Luca approach the cafe table.

“Well, well. Where are you two coming from?” Mathilde asks, a smug smirk on her face plastered to her face. “Looks like you two figured things out.”

“Mathilde!” you exclaim as her husband lets out a hearty laugh, shaking his head incredulously at his wife.

“My wife is a little bit cheeky – and alotta bit mischievous. You’ll have to excuse her from time to time,” the man says, extending a hand out towards Luca. “I’m Emil.”

“Luca. It’s nice to meet you,” Luca answers, as Mathilde shoots you a ‘you better call and tell me everything later’ look, as the boys exchange pleasantries.

Choosing to ignore her previous statement, you turn your attention to Jesper as you ask: “What’s going on?”

“Oh just having a little morning coffee, catching up on Jesper’s wild, single life… He’s trying to rope me and Emil into something this coming Saturday and I know that Emil’s planning on dragging me there whether I like it or not,” Mathilde jokes, playfully nudging her husband.

“Jesper got put on the list for this club opening next weekend. We were just talking about who might like to join,” Emil explains simply.

“That so?” you ask with a raise of an eyebrow in Mathilde’s direction. It’s a ‘how do I know that we are about to get dragged along with you’ kind of look, and Mathilde simply shrugs in return.

“Jesper’s always getting invited to these kinds of things, so we tag along when we can keep up,” Mathilde explains, this time directing her explanation to the newest addition to the group, Luca.

“Which is rare,” Jesper teases, earning a snort and an eye roll from his twin sister. Jesper turns his attention back to you and Luca with words of encouragement. “No, it’s perfect timing that we were just talking about you and then, here you are! A sign from the gods. You must come – the both of you!”

“I don’t usually work Saturday nights so,” Luca begins, glancing over in your direction to feel you out on Jesper’s request.

“I… could be up for it, yeah,” you answer, hesitantly as you send a small nod in response.

“Great, it’s settled then. I’ll have them put you both on the list,” Jesper smiles an accomplished smile.

You’re not sure what you’re getting into (and you’re sure that you’ll have to catch Luca up on Jesper’s wild adventures later), but right now, you think that maybe, you're entering a chapter of ‘yes.’

-------------------------------

a/n: are we doing okay?! did we love the makeout!? are we ready for smut?!? yes, yes, and yes?!

#chef luca #will poulter #luca the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear headcanon #luca x reader #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #chef luca x reader #pastry chef luca #burn your life down

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