Archive of Our Own

He thinks he’s just broken the world record for amount of sighs in two minutes.

Nanami sits at his desk, elbows on the varnished wood and fingers rubbing his eyes beneath his reading glasses. Why him? What the hell are the other grade one sorcerers without kids doing?

Not mulling over the prospect of a very high-paying mission at 8 PM tonight that he needs to find a babysitter for, that’s for damn sure. Ever since he adopted Nobara and Yuuji, he’s made it abundantly clear that he would not be taking on any missions requiring he work overtime, for the sake of his kids. However, he’s never had such a large sum of money thrown into the mix before. He could finally buy Nobara that bracelet she’d been eyeing but never voicing her interest in, and finally do renovations on hers and Yuuji’s room so the floors aren’t constantly creaking and waking them up when he checks up on them at night.

For them. He should.  

But still, the problem remains: finding a babysitter. Normally, he’d ask the lovely elderly lady across the hall to watch them, but she’s with her grandchildren in the States. And frankly, he’s a bit overprotective of his kids to hire someone off the internet that he doesn’t have time to vet properly. He sighs again and winces slightly. That’s definitely a migraine coming on. 

A knock on his open office door and a surge of cursed energy lets him know that someone that he does not have the mental capacity to deal with right now is standing in front of him.

“This a good time?” Gojo asks warily. He’s leaning against the doorframe, arms clasped behind his back. 

But he really doesn’t feel like snapping at the older man today. “I suppose this is as good a time as any,” he tries to say without sighing for the nth time. “Is something needed of me?”

“Not of you, no. I sorta overheard that you were called in for a late mission and needed a babysitter. Enter, me!” The eccentric teacher smiles widely, pointing a thumb at himself. Even though he’s wearing the bandages on his head, Nanami knows that he’s winking. It’s endearing. 

“Absolutely not.”

Gojo’s mouth drops. “Nanamin! You know that I’m a single father myself and am raising Megumi just fine! Also, Yuuji and Nobara love me!”

“That may be true, but I’m going to be home late and need them to go to sleep at a reasonable time. How can I trust you to do that when you yourself go to sleep around 3 AM every night? Sorry, morning?” Nanami has now transitioned from rubbing his eyes to rubbing his temple, trying to stave off the throbbing of his brain. Talking to Gojo is doing little to help that, he’s now miserably realizing. 

“It’s Friday, it’s not like they have school the next day! Besides, I make sure Megumi goes to sleep at 9 PM every night.”

Truthfully, he can’t find any other reason why Gojo shouldn’t watch the kids. He’s operating solely on the fact that he does not like asking him for favors. 

As if he could read his mind, Gojo adds, “I’m offering here, Nanami. As a friend and fellow parent who knows how hard it is to raise a kid, much less two. I know you need the help and I don’t want you to stress over finding a sitter when you should be worried about making sure you stay alive out there tonight, which I have no doubt you will. Also, you know I’d stop at nothing to keep them safe, right?”

He huffs stubbornly. This is one of those rare times where Gojo is actually talking sense.  

While saying his spiel, Nanami fails to notice that he is now standing right next to him, leaning on his desk. Those radioactively bright eyes still pierce through him behind the white fabric on his face. 

Nanami squints and tilts his head, watching Gojo pout cutely and do the same. It seems that there’s only one option in front of him now. Better than the zero he had about five minutes ago. 

He straightens up and nods curtly. “Fine. Come over at 7:30, I’ll be leaving around then.”

The smile returns full force. “Great! Hey, is it alright if I bring Megumin too? I mean, I know he’s old enough to stay at home alone but–”

Nanami’s eyes widen. “Gojo, he’s six. He is absolutely not old enough to stay home alone!” 

Gojo laughs, as if it is a laughing matter. “Kidding! Just wanted to rev you up some more.”

The blonde sneers. “You were already on thin ice.” 

“Good thing I can float, huh?”

Nanami’s doorbell rings at 7:31. He’s in the middle of putting his tie in a Windsor knot, sidestepping his kids chasing each other around the living room with cardboard swords to get to the door. He stifles a snort at the sound of Yuuji acting out a dramatic death upon his sister stabbing him through the crook of his arm. 

Opening the door allows him to see one Gojo Satoru clad in a black t-shirt, equally black zip-up jacket, and baby blue pajamas with who believes to be Cinnamoroll printed all over. Instead of his white bandages, he’s got on circular sunglasses to shield his eyes. It reminds him of the ones he wore when they were teenagers. Are they the same ones? he wonders.

Next to him stands Megumi, barely reaching his father’s hipbone, wearing a black hoodie with the hood covering his spiky hair, and darker blue PJs. In his hands, a wolf plushie. 

Nanami smiles softly at the boy, who returns the gesture. He doesn’t give his father the same treatment, sighing at his childish attire and beckoning him into the apartment. 

Yuuji and Nobara drop their little game and gasp happily upon seeing Gojo and Megumi, rushing over to give them hugs. Gojo laughs delightedly, taking off his glasses before ruffling his kids’ hair. Megumi offers them a small smile.

Nanami clears his throat to attract the attention of the other adult in the room, though the term is applied loosely when it comes to Gojo. Nevertheless, he glances up and stands before watching Nobara and Yuuji usher Megumi to their play area. Nanami watches alongside him. “Right, so dinner is on the stove and bedtime is at 10. I’ve graciously decided to extend it by virtue of it almost being the weekend.”

Gojo snorts. “Okay, Grandpa.”

Nanami’s eye twitches behind his spectacles. “Gojo–”

The sorcerer raises his hands in surrender. “Yeah, yeah, thin ice. Don’t worry, Nanamin, the kids are safe with me. Who else would you trust other than the strongest, amirite?”

He’s not even going to try and respond to that. He hears crinkling on Gojo’s person and sees a plastic bag hanging off his wrist that he didn’t even notice before. “What’s that?”

Gojo looks down at it, presumably also forgetting it was there. “Oh, I picked up some gimbap on the way here. I remember Yuuji and Nobara liking it when we got Korean a while back. I hope their tastes haven’t changed.” 

Nanami’s chest flutters. 

He finds himself regretting everything bad he said about the man in the years he’d come back to jujutsu. Gojo Satoru has certainly changed from the arrogant and obnoxious teen he once was. Megumi is probably to thank for that. 

But the fact that he remembers something so miniscule about the kids that aren’t even his own…  

Nope. No time to delve into those feelings right now. Gojo watches Nanami straighten up and nod, pulling his blazer off the coat rack to put on. “Thank you for doing that, Gojo. Anyway, I should be home around 11, though I hope it’ll be sooner.”

Gojo gives a small smile and nods. “Sounds good. Give a holler if you need some backup.”

“Thought you had no doubt I could stay alive?” he shoots back with a smirk. 

The white-haired man laughs, blue eyes twinkling with mirth behind his glasses. “With my help, of course you’re staying alive.”

Nanami shakes his head with no real anger behind it. He looks at the small children building a Jenga tower on the floor, giving them a nod. “Behave yourselves. Love you.”

“Love you, Papa!” his daughter and son return. Megumi also gives him a wave. Nanami’s smile couldn’t be warmer.

With one more nod to Gojo, he shuts the door behind him. 

Gojo turns to the kids and claps once. “Alright, for dinner, you want whatever boring dish Papa made or some delicious, mouthwatering gimbap?”

After stuffing themselves with the latter dish (“the correct answer,” as Gojo put it), Gojo finds himself on the floor with Nobara sitting criss-crossed between his legs as he gently combs and braids her hair. She’s asked for two Dutch braids with ribbons and makes him watch a YouTube video on how to do it when he gives her a blank stare at her request. 

Megumi is seated next to him, the three of them on the floor watching Yuuji use a whiteboard to draw out some sort of… camel? A valley? No, wait, the clue was “animal.” A monkey?

The black-haired kid squints. “What the hell is that?” 

“Megumi, language!” Gojo reprimands. “Yuuji, you’re doing great. Maybe one more line or something?”

“I’m done. I already drew it.”

Oh. “Ah. Um… is it a camel?”

Yuuji pouts. “It’s a frog. 

Gojo purses his lips. That is not a… okay, fine. Sure. It’s a frog. 

Nobara yawns. “I’m bored of this game. Yuuji, go get my stickers from my desk.”

The pink-haired boy huffs (exactly like his father, Gojo muses) and trudges over to Nobara’s room to retrieve the stickers. Gojo ties the last ribbon in her soft hair, letting out a sigh of relief upon seeing it stay in place upon removing his fingers. 

Yuuji returns with the glittery decals, handing them to his sister. “Y’know, just ‘cuz you’re older than me by seven months doesn’t mean you get to boss me around.”

“Uh, yeah it does, dummy. I’ve got seven whole months of experience on you.” Gojo nods in agreement. That’s the same logic he uses when he teases their father.

“So, Nobara,” Gojo interrupts. “What’re these for?” He watches her unwrap the stickers and carefully choose some from their sets.

“For you, Gojo-san,” she replies, not noticing the way Gojo raises an eyebrow in question.

“Oh really?” He picks up his fruit juice box that’s sitting next to his hip. “And what would I need them for?”

“To look pretty for Papa.” 

He promptly spits out the juice. The kids look at him in surprise as he sputters and coughs when some of it goes down the wrong pipe, trying to dislodge the liquid from his trachea. 

When he’s done, he snaps his head up to the brown-haired girl who looks a little too nonchalant for what she just said. “Huh? What does that mean?” 

She shrugs, not helping with Gojo’s current state of mind. “Megumi told us you like Papa.”

“Yeah, well, did Megumi tell you that he wet the bed two nights ago?” he shoots a look at Megumi that conveys anger for snitching and desperation to get him out of this. But given the bomb that he just dropped about his son, he’s probably on his own. 

“What the hell, Dad?!” Yep. Called it.

“Language, Megumi!”

“Stop!” Nobara yells. “We’re not gonna make fun of you, Gojo-san. Actually, we like that you like Papa. All the ladies are weird when they talk to him, asking if he could go to their house and explain the stock market to them in detail. Why would he have to go to their house for that? Papa could’ve explained it then and there.”

He forgets how innocent kids are sometimes. 

She continues. “We haven’t seen you do any of that stuff with Papa. That automatically makes you a good person for him.” Gojo chuckles softly and ruffles her hair as gently as he can without ruining his hard work.

“Besides, you guys have been friends since, like, the dinosaurs were around.” 

He frowns. Turns out some kids (read: Nobara) actually know what they’re saying sometimes.  

“Hilarious,” he rolls his eyes playfully, dropping his hand from her hair. “I will admit your dad is a very good person, and has been ever since I met him. You guys know he would do anything for you, right?”

Nobara and Yuuji smile and nod, the little girl handing a sticker set to each of the boys. It warms his heart to see them agree without hesitation.

“Exactly. That’s why I like him,” he reaffirms. “Besides, he’s also easy on the eyes.”

“What does that me–”

“Don’t worry about it.” 

Nobara peels a sticker off the laminated paper, showing it to Gojo. “Well, Gojo-san, if you want a chance with Papa, you’re gonna need all the help you can get. Ready, boys?”

He watches Megumi and Yuuji raise their stickers in the air, Yuuji having one for each finger. He gulps and laughs nervously, hands raised in surrender.

“Be careful, would ya? We don’t need any accid–”

“Charge!!” 

All at once, three little gremlins barrel towards him with pure determination in their eyes. They topple him over and he laughs joyfully.

“Wait, wait, wait! Ow, kiddo, you’re digging into my stoma- ah, Ah! The hair, watch the hair!!”

The end credits roll for “101 Dalmatians,” a fitting movie considering handling these three kids alone was the equivalent of caring for an oversized litter of puppies. He could sort of understand Cruella’s motives now. 

Kidding. Kidding.

Around their bedtime, he was able to finally wrangle the trio into sleeping on the couch— the couch being him. He has Nobara on his chest, Megumi sunken into the couch on the side of him, and Yuuji curled up by his feet. He can no longer feel his legs.

The stickers on his face and arms move with every twitch and flex of his muscles, but he can’t even be mad. He was assaulted by such sheer cuteness that it’s a miracle he didn’t give the kids his entire life savings just because of how adorable they are. 

He sighs and grabs his phone that he was smart enough to put near him before the kids collapsed on him. It’s 10:43. Hopefully Nanami’s done by now and is on his way back. If he focuses hard enough, he can sense the faint traces of his cursed energy on the outskirts of the city. Moving.

He smiles and tips his head back onto the armrest. Thank god.  

It couldn’t have been more than 20 minutes later when he hears a key inserted into the lock, door opening gently. From his view being inverted since his head was hanging off the couch, he can see Nanami smile warmly and toe his shoes off before walking over to him. Gojo smiles back.

“Hey.” Jesus Christ, he sounds like he was dragged through the Sahara, and he wasn’t even the one out on a mission. He clears his throat before looking back up at the blonde.

The younger man chuckles. “Hi. You look very… colorful.”

The stickers. Gojo huffs out a laugh. “Your daughter got to me. Practically blackmailed me if I didn’t say yes.” 

“I’m sure,” he nods amusedly. “Do you mind if I have a quick shower before taking them off your hands? I’d rather not touch my kids with dried curse blood on my shirt.”

“Take your time,” he sighs contentedly, letting his head fall back again. “I’ve never been comfier.”

Nanami gives him one more glance before walking towards his shower, soft smile never leaving his face. 

Ten minutes later, he’s fresh-faced and wearing a gray henley and black sweats, towel wrapped around his neck. Gojo discreetly checks him out as he pads over, watching his thick biceps flex as he dries off his wet hair, which flops over his forehead and thin gold-framed glasses. He stops himself from roving his eyes further down the delicious length of his body, seeing as he was right in front of him now.

He leans down and picks his daughter up off his chest, soothing her with gentle shushes and pets of her hair when she whimpers at the movement. He nuzzles his face against hers, looking down at him through her hair that was becoming undone from its braids.

Gojo resists the urge to sigh dreamily. Lord, he is so goddamn fine. He’s the perfect father, businessman, glasses-wearing heartthrob–

“Gojo.” 

Gojo jolts a bit and looks up, mentally slapping himself because his gaze slipped to the waistband of his sweats, dangerously close to where it shouldn’t be. 

“Sorry, what?” he tries to recover.

“I said it’s late. I think you should stay the night.”

Pinch him now.

His mouth hangs agape, unsure of how to respond. “N-Nanami, I–”

“I wouldn’t want you to take Megumi-kun out in the cold while he’s asleep.” He rocks the sleeping girl in his arms as she tenses up slightly, clutching the material of her father’s shirt in her small hands. “He can sleep in Yuuji’s bed. I can move him with Nobara.”

Gojo immediately shakes his head, straightening up as much as the two bodies on him can allow him to do. “No no, don’t displace him from his bed. Um… what if he sleeps with Yuuji? Is that alright?”

Nanami hums, glancing down at his sleeping son, who is currently nuzzling into Gojo’s soft pajamas at the other end of the couch. After a moment, the seven-three sorcerer nods gently.

“I think that should be okay. Let me drop her off first.” 

Gojo also nods before he walks away with Nobara, catching sight of her drooling on his shoulder once he turns around. Absolutely adorable. 

Getting her settled into bed only takes two minutes, allowing him to return quickly and take Yuuji off Gojo’s legs. Gojo delicately lifts Megumi out of the couch crevice, which he’s surprised he wasn’t suffocated in. He soothingly rubs the young boy’s back, watching the other man do the same to his son. 

Nanami gestures down the hall. “Come, his room is this way.”

Gojo trails behind him, watching him gently nudge open the door and walk over to stand on the right side of the bed, motioning for Gojo to take the left side. 

Together, they slowly deposit their sons onto the soft mattress, tucking them in under the mountain of blankets. Gojo watches in adoration as the two boys sigh contentedly and absentmindedly face each other on their respective pillows, snuggling into the bed’s warmth.

Nanami smiles with him, and after a moment of silent admiration, they exit the room and close the door behind them with a soft click. Gojo sighs.

“Thanks for letting us stay over. I know you’re probably bone tired, but it’s very much appreciated.”

“Of course, Gojo. I also want to thank you for watching them on such short notice. I assume everything was alright?” Nanami walks towards the kitchen, readjusting his glasses in a move that almost makes Gojo’s knees buckle.

“Yeah, everything was great. Megumi was much more social and lively than I’ve ever seen him. Our kids are really close, you know.” He smiles as he reminisces about the night, remembering how truly happy the black-haired boy looked in the company of his friends. Gojo seats himself on a stool at the center island in Nanami’s kitchen, fidgeting with his fingers.

Nanami chuckles, a sound that warms Gojo to the core. “I know very well. We should schedule more playdates and outings for them.”

His cheeks heat up. Maybe it’s just natural when he’s around the man– which could very well be the case– or maybe it’s the prospect of doing something so domestic with him that gets his pulse fluttering. In any case, he can’t wait to explore this new avenue of their relationship. “I couldn’t agree more, Nanami.” He tries to hide the dreaminess in his voice.

Thankfully, the seven-three sorcerer just smiles, turning his attention to the fridge. Gojo uses the moment of reprieve from that molten hazel stare to calm down some, refusing to let the thought of him and Nanami planning fucking playdates for their kids take him to a place that he should not go. No matter how much he wants to.

The silence drags on for a bit too long, so Gojo naturally wants to fill it. “How was work?”

He sees Nanami shrug while peering into the fridge, admiring the way his back muscles flex under his shirt with the– god dammit, not again. He shrugged. That’s it.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” he says as he takes out a full bottle of pineapple juice. “There were a handful of grade twos and one grade one.” 

Gojo huffs out a laugh. “Pssh, lightwork then. I didn’t doubt you for a second.”

The blonde snorts. “Uh huh,” he squints playfully. “Anyways, would you like a drink?”

He watches as Nanami pulls out two martini glasses from a cabinet, turning back around and looking at him with an eyebrow raised in invitation. His heart deflates a little bit. 

Gojo has made it clear to anyone who meets him that he doesn’t drink alcohol. It always fucks with his senses and makes the burden of carrying his curse technique that much heavier. He’d expect someone like Nanami, who’s known him for over a decade, to remember that about him by now. Is that too selfish of him to hope for?

“Nanami,” he starts, eyebrows pinching. “You know I don’t–”

“I know you don’t,” he fills in with a warm smile. “I have the ingredients to make that Cinderella mocktail you had back in Hokkaido. Would you like one?”

…no. This cannot be real. 

Nanami Kento, a man who he’d previously believed held no regard for him other than as a coworker and acquaintance, remembered the drink– one that even he had forgotten the name of–  that he drank six months ago when they were on their mission in Hokkaido. 

The drink that he’d forced Nanami to have with him when he was clearly in need of an alcoholic concoction, which he sipped at with a grimace and a stab at Gojo’s taste in drinks.

The drink that Nanami took time out of his day to buy the ingredients for, and sure, he could’ve bought them for Yuuji and Nobara, but fuck, the ginger ale, pineapple, orange, and lemon juices are all unopened. He also pulls out a bottle of grenadine. Nanami never drinks anything with grenadine in it.

God, was he waiting for this or something? His heart’s about to beat out of his fucking chest. This is definitely one of the first symptoms of heart failure.

When the slight ringing in his ears fades, he registers a, “Gojo, what’s the matter with you? This is the second time you’ve zoned out on me tonight.” 

He swallows the cottony feeling spreading to his throat. “I’m so sorry, Nanami. I promise you’re not boring or anything, it’s just…” Fuck, how does he even say it? 

“Yes?” Nanami encourages, waiting patiently. He’s such a patient man. He’s perfect.

“I… I didn’t expect you to remember something like that, is all.” He can’t even look at him. Jesus.

There’s no awkward silence. Just a little pause and then a chuckle that’s deep enough to rumble in his own chest. Gojo looks up and sees the man shake his head and sigh, continuing his duty of pouring out the juices into the shaker.

“I didn’t either. But I knew how much you enjoyed it, so…” He trails off, busying himself with capping the shaker and using it gently, keeping in mind that the kids are asleep. 

What he said was true, but he didn’t enjoy it nearly as much as the time he spent with the man on their mission. Hokkaido was, after all, when he’d realized his true feelings for him.

Gojo watches silently as Nanami pours their drinks out, giving him an appreciative smile once he slides a glass over to him. “Thank you, Nanami. I–”

He stops when he realizes he’s still wearing those godforsaken stickers on his skin, catching sight of them on his arm when he outstretches it to grab the drink. God, he’s been talking to the object of his desires with fucking Bluey stickers plastered on his body. 

“Fuck,” he whispers to himself. Nanami glances at him then, laughing softly at the way he winces when trying to slowly peel the adhesive off and onto the marble top. 

“So, how did she do it?” he asks amusedly, taking a sip from his glass. Gojo’s brows furrow in confusion. “Blackmail you,” Nanami clarifies.

The white-haired man snorts. “She didn’t really, I was just being dramatic.” He finally gets the last one off his cheek, trying to rub away any trace of it ever being on his skin. This is embarrassing. Well, at least Nobara meant well. 

“It’s funny,” he continues, smiling fondly. “She did it with the intention of making me look pretty for you. Kids, amirite?” 

Nanami’s expression gives nothing away, but his eyes zero in on the underside of Gojo’s forearm, the same way it does when he uses his technique. His gaze is intense, and he’s secretly relieved it’s trained on his arm rather than his face. He doesn’t know how he’d react if it were the opposite.

But the staring is the least of his worries when Nanami wraps his hand around Gojo’s slender wrist, pulling his arm over to him so he can examine his forearm closer. He tries to stifle the way his breath hitches at the action, feeling as if the man’s touch was branding him from how warm he felt. Gojo’s about to ask what he’s looking at when he starts peeling off one last sticker that he apparently missed. 

“Thanks,” he says quietly, so as to not ruin the tension thrumming between them. Nanami hums his reply, though he doesn’t relinquish his hold on his wrist. Gojo doesn’t mind at all. 

“It is funny.” That beautiful timbre has deepened wonderfully, and Gojo hopes it’s because he’s starting to feel the effects of their closeness too. He just nods in agreement, taking a sip of the sugary concoction to steel his nerves. As predicted, it’s incredible.

Sadly, he doesn’t get to enjoy it in full. “Though you don’t need stickers to tell me what I already know.”

Instead of spitting out the drink, he snorts it up. Nanami immediately lets go of Gojo’s wrist to twist around the kitchen island and rub his back to help him cough it out. Goddamn Nanamis and their penchant for dropping bombs on him while drinking something. 

Gojo blindly grabs a napkin from the edge of the counter and blows into it, simultaneously trying to keep his face as hidden as possible from the blonde. Nanami doesn’t let him off the hook for long, though, and who is he kidding? The man’s a single father of two, it’s practically in his blood now to be a caretaker. 

“Are you alright, Satoru?” He makes for another napkin and wipes away some snot that had smeared onto his cheek. Now’s about the time he wishes that the ground could take him away from this embarrassment and swallow both of them whole.

“God, this is disgusting. I am so sorry, Nanami. I don’t know what got into me, just the fact that you of all people indirectly said that I’m pretty and–” 

Pause. 

Gojo looks into Nanami’s eyes then, finding traces of amusement, concern, and something decidedly… darker.  

“My name… you said my given name.” 

Has he finally caught him? Does he have something to hold against him if this was all for show?

The smile Nanami gives him tells him otherwise. He’s been planning this. “It’s a beautiful name. I’d like to be able to use it more often, if you’ll allow it.” 

If he’ll allow it? Of course he will. It’s Nanami. “I… um–” Words. He needs words.

“It makes me wonder how you’d react if I used it in different settings,” he interrupts. No matter, Satoru couldn’t find anything to say for the life of him. “A simple, ‘Good morning, Satoru,’ to start the day, for example…”

He can’t help it, he shivers. His name sounds sinful rolling off that sharp tongue.

Nanami notices this with barely restrained delight, a slight smirk on his beautifully angular features indicating how pleased he is by Satoru’s reaction. He tilts his head slightly, short strands of still-damp blonde hair following suit and lenses glinting. 

“A ‘How are your students doing, Satoru?’ or ‘I’d like to take you out tonight, Satoru,’ sometime in the afternoon…”

Fuck. Has his tongue always been that thick inside his mouth? 

Nanami raises a hand and brushes the edge of Satoru’s jaw, taking pleasure in the way his nostrils flare with a deep breath in. He leans his face closer, close enough that Satoru is positive he can feel the heat radiating off of his flushed skin. 

“And then, at night, when the kids are asleep and it’s just us, I’d say…”

His lips are now at his ear, brushing the soft skin there with his hot breath. 

“‘...you’re being so good for me, Satoru.’”

Satoru sucks in a sharp breath, body thrumming with excitement at the praise, at the idea of him receiving it while Nanami does unspeakable things to him. His knuckles are currently bone-white with how he’s tightly fisting the countertop digging into his back. 

And then, he swears he can feel Nanami’s lips press into the shell of his ear, giving him a feather-light kiss there. His suspicions are confirmed by the way his earlobe is dragged down gently with Nanami’s teeth, breath catching in his throat and a soft moan being pushed out. 

“Oh—” he breathes, cutting himself off when the lips at his ear trail down to the skin below his jaw, where he gives him a firmer kiss while holding his face on the other side. Satoru grasps onto the wrist of the hand holding him, breaths coming out in small pants.

“Would you react the same way I’ve imagined?” he rumbles into his skin. 

The way he’s imagined. 

The world that he had just wished to swallow him whole has stopped moving entirely. Satoru can’t believe a single thing that has transpired up till now. 

He can’t help it. He laughs breathlessly, because yes, every word Nanami says has been taking a toll on him in the best possible way.

“What’s gotten into you?” he says into his ear with a disbelieving smile, nerves apparent in his tone. “Acting like you wanna fuck me while our kids are nearby? Who are you and what have you done to my precious kouhai?”

Nanami leans back from Satoru’s neck, looking him dead in the eye. Satoru has never seen the man look more serious in his life. 

“Acting?” 

He thumbs Satoru’s plush bottom lip, still glossy from the lip balm he applied earlier in the evening. The older man still holds his wrist, rubbing his own thumb along Nanami’s knuckles. His pupils are dilated to all hell, cheeks flushed obscenely. He looks like he’s already been fucked. 

In a way, he is. Fucked.

“Who said I’m acting, Satoru?” he asks in that husky tone, his sharp nose nudging against Satoru’s. 

Blue eyes flutter shut, too overwhelmed to look the other man in the eye when he’s so goddamn close to him. Nanami releases Satoru’s face to grab his waist instead, pulling him flush with his sturdy physique and making the other man brace himself against his chest. Satoru gasps and fists the practically painted-on shirt Nanami’s wearing at his collar, now unable to keep his eyes off his lips. 

“N-Nanami,” he manages to blurt out, a surprising feat given how flustered he is. The man in question looks at him all too slyly. 

He takes one hand off his waist to trail down to the bottom of his shirt, tugging it down some and revealing more of his collarbone. He takes the opportunity to move under Satoru’s jaw and latch his mouth on the hollow of his throat, licking and sucking on it as it becomes more concave with his gasp. 

Satoru is currently fighting for his life to not moan out into the open space, just about 15 feet away from the nearest child’s bedroom. He’s about to rip the henley off of the muscular body in front of him, his thigh accidentally brushing the outside of Nanami’s right one as he arches his back. 

Accident or not, Nanami moves quickly and gets a hand under that same toned thigh to hook it around his hip, pushing forward to pin Satoru against him and the countertop. The white-haired man grunts at the impact, which immediately turns into a sigh as Nanami bites his jugular and laves his tongue over the wound. 

“Nanami, fuck,” he whimpers as quietly as he can, carding both hands into that impossibly soft hair and grazing the backs of his ears. Nanami lets up a bit, giving one last nip to Satoru’s pretty neck and leaning back once more. 

“You know my name, Satoru,” he rasps out. “Say it.”

Their lips brush, his senses going into overload at the simple touch. 

“For me?” Nanami asks, enticing as ever. He punctuates the question with a slow roll of his hips, allowing Satoru to finally feel what he’s been fantasizing about every night. His eyes widen, having severely miscalculated his size.

He’s fucking massive.

Just the thought of having sex with this man, having that huge cock inside him, is enough to get his mouth running before his brain can catch up. 

“Kento,” he immediately responds. There’s no hiding the reverence in his voice now.

He earns a kiss on his jaw as a reward. “Mm… again.”

God, he sounds so hot when he’s getting what he wants. Satoru will never deny him anything now.

“Kento,” he whispers again, as if in a trance. The kiss pressed on his face afterwards is so close to his lips. 

“Once more…” Kento hums, his register deepening even more, if that was even possible. Satoru is helpless, feeling at that moment that Kento could do whatever the hell he wanted to him and he’d be the one to say “thank you.” 

“Kento, please,” he whimpers. He’s so wound up, his body screaming for something, anything to happen. 

And as if he knew, Kento swoops down and captures his lips in a searing, toe-curling kiss.

He melts. He’s literally sliding down the blonde’s body but thankfully, he’s propping him back up and pushing his thick thigh between his legs to keep him straight. At the same time, he pushes his tongue inside Satoru’s waiting mouth, tasting the remnants of his mocktail atop his sweet tongue. Satoru moans then, allowing the sound to come forth knowing that Kento’s mouth will muffle it. 

There’s spit, tongue, and teeth mixing and gnashing together, and both of them should be embarrassed by the fact that they’re two men pushing thirty kissing like sex-crazed teenagers, but they can’t find it in themselves to give a shit. 

As Kento leans back to take in some much-needed air, Satoru can’t help but follow his lips and beg for more kisses off of them. Kento smiles, obviously pleased, and obliges him with a couple before he has to hold Satoru by the back of his neck to keep him from coming back. The older man keens, desperation painting his face in the most tantalizing display.

“Fuck me…” he pants into the sliver of space between them. “Fuck me, fuck me, please fuck me, Kento…”

The other sorcerer chuckles, scratching his nails against Satoru’s scalp. If the man could purr, he would.

“Eager, aren’t we?” he muses, kissing him on the cheek as compensation for not wanting to kiss him on the lips again so soon. He’s savoring the taste of him.

Satoru giggles, looking Kento in the eye and clinging to his neck. He sounds so incredibly out of it that it’s making Kento’s cock grow even harder. “Only for you, baby.”

Baby. Oh, he could definitely get used to that.

With a final nip to Satoru’s jaw, Kento leans back for good and bends down to grab behind Satoru’s knees and the middle of his back, lifting him in a princess carry. Satoru gasps at literally being swept off the floor by the man of his dreams, laughing brightly at the position they’re in and immediately looping his arms around Kento’s shoulders. 

Kento quickly shuts him up, knowing that their voices are traveling down the hall, and offers more kisses in turn as he carries the lanky sorcerer to his bedroom. Satoru’s mind is going haywire, the magnitude of what they’re about to do hitting him as they cross the threshold into Kento’s room. This is it. No more waiting, no more yearning. 

Kento sets him down and promptly gets back into the flow of kissing him senseless. Satoru grins like a lovesick fool, holding the perfect face of the man before him as he moves his kisses down his neck and collarbone. He can feel Kento’s hands drifting down his torso and underneath his shirt, feeling up his waist without anything separating them. 

Satoru bites his lip at the sensation of his warm hands making imprints on his flushed skin, but before he can fully indulge the moment, they both hear a muffled sound in one of the kids’ rooms. 

Kento lifts his head, to the dismay of his partner, and sighs. “I should check on them before we start anything, huh?” 

Satoru hates that he’s being sensible right now. Damn their own kids for blueballing them even in their sleep. He mirrors his sigh and nods. “Probably. I’d hate to get interrupted, especially when you’ve already gotten me so worked up…”  

He doesn’t even try to hide the seductive quality of his tone, or his demeanor. He snakes his arms around his neck and gives him a hot kiss to maintain the energy between them, rolling his hips into his thigh to show him just how “worked up” he is. He’s terrible sometimes. 

Kento thinks as much when he breaks the kiss and growls into Satoru’s mouth, clutching his hips with bruising pressure and reluctantly prying him off. “Stop tempting me.”

The white-haired man winks at him. “Just being myself. Hurry up and go before I do it again.”

The blonde huffs and leaves, heavy footsteps turning softer as he makes his way to the kids’ rooms. He’s so attractive when he’s mad at him. 

But now the idea of them getting interrupted is stuck in his head. Satoru finally looks around the room and studies the layout. It’s modern and clean, just like the man who sleeps in it. But his ever-focused eyes catch the occasional stuffed animal, picture book, and educational kid's toy along the floor. There are butterflies in his stomach again, being reminded once more that Nanami Kento is an exceptional father to his kids. 

He imagines just how loving he’d be with Megumi too. The five of them, together.

Shit. He immediately straightens up and shakes his head, snapping himself out of it. They’re just having sex tonight, and here he is thinking about their future together. If they even have one. 

No. Not the time. 

He finds what he’s been looking for hanging out of Kento’s closet: a thick duvet. He goes to grab it and takes it to the bed’s headrest, folding it longways and making it as compact as possible so that it’s a very long but thick rectangle. He positions it behind the top of the headboard and keeps the bed pressed firmly against it and the wall. He also manages to find two of Kento’s work ties to secure the duvet in place so it doesn’t slip down. 

After a bit of maneuvering, which Kento walks in on and raises an eyebrow at, he pats his hands and places them on his hips in a victory pose. A victory for what, Kento isn’t sure.

“And this is?” he asks inquiringly from the door, which he closes shut.

Satoru laughs haughtily, as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “This, dear Kento, is another reassurance that we won’t be interrupted tonight. Behold.”

He demonstrates by rocking the headrest back and forth at high intensity, the duvet absorbing the impacts of the bed hitting the wall. Kento snorts and Satoru grins, extremely pleased with himself.

“Couldn’t you have just used Infinity?” Kento remarks with a smirk. 

He might’ve imagined it, but he swears Satoru deflates, his smile the first thing to go. A cute pout takes its place, but Kento knows that the other sorcerer didn’t think of using one of his techniques to get the job done.

“Kentooo,” he whines. “It’s the thought that counts!”

Kento chuckles and walks toward him, cupping his face and kissing him to stop his complaints. “You’re right, I’m sorry. That was very thoughtful of you, Satoru.”

He grumbles, but the kisses are worth it, so he milks the act a bit. It’s even better when Kento starts grinding his clothed cock into his again, maneuvering his hips to roll against him.

Satoru gives him a cheeky grin. “Oh, you gonna fuck me like this? Could’ve let me know before I wasted so much time on this over here.” He gestures to the evidence of his innovation.

Kento huffs a laugh and delivers a teasing bite to his bottom lip before leaning back. “Believe me, I intend on making great use of the bed.”

Satoru’s breathing stops at the dark promise. Kento catches it with a knowing smile, tightening his grip on his waist.

With that, he easily manhandles Satoru on the bed as if he’s not 75 kilograms of lean muscle. The display of sheer strength makes him lightheaded. Satoru squeals in delight, pupils dilating even further at the sight of Kento following him and settling between his spread legs. 

He raises his head so that the blonde can kiss him again, licking into his mouth and roaming his hands across the expanse of his body. Kento takes one of Satoru’s hands and brings it down to his clothed cock, eliciting a drop of his jaw at the sheer girth of it.

“This is all you, Satoru,” he says huskily, smiling at the way his breath hitches. “And all yours.”

His voice is dripping with want, and it makes Satoru’s brain melt. The implication of his words is also starting to seep in through the addled mess of his mind. 

Nanami Kento is all his for the night. 

“Kento… ” Satoru whines, heat seeping into his skin. Kento starts canting his cock into his hand, chuckling lowly as he steals yet another kiss from the dumbstruck man beneath him. Satoru nearly combusts at the way Kento groans into his mouth upon dipping his tongue inside. The grinding into Satoru’s shaking palm becomes harder as the seven-three sorcerer breaks away from his lips. 

“You’re fucking addicting,” he admits hotly, giving him a devilish grin. “May I see if you taste just as sweet down there, Satoru?”

His cock throbs. The way his heart is pounding and his breaths are shortening should be mildly concerning, but god damn if he’s about to let this opportunity of a lifetime go. 

He nods enthusiastically. “Yes, please, Kento,” he begs, watching as Kento looks at him adoringly in response and hooks his fingers on the waistband of Satoru’s pajamas. 

He only pulls them down slightly, taking the time to kiss along Satoru’s hipbone and the trail of white hair leading to where he aches for the man. He whines needily, weaving his fingers through blonde hair to make him get on with it. 

Like a prayer has been heard, the man finally brings his pants down to his mid-thigh, having the foresight to also remove his boxers at the same time so as not to hear Satoru keep pleading for it. His long, slender cock springs up and smacks his taut abs, dripping and flushed so much so that Kento almost feels bad. 

But looking back up at his gorgeous, debauched face and how he’s biting his lip in anticipation, just a bit more teasing couldn’t hurt. 

He smiles deviously and licks up his pretty cock, causing Satoru to gasp sharply and buck his hips up in response. Kento nearly takes it into his mouth at the abrupt movement, but he just chuckles and kisses up the hot length of it once Satoru’s calmed down some. 

“Easy,” Kento rumbles from between his legs, though he was obviously satisfied by his reaction from the way he’s lustfully looking up at him. It’s only now that Satoru realizes the blonde still has his glasses on, the frames glinting beautifully in the dim light of the lamp. It makes his cock twitch below Kento’s mouth, which of course he notices. The man grins. 

Satoru tips his head back onto the plush pillow, white hair fanning out across the gray cotton as Kento resumes his ministrations and teases. He licks the precum leaking profusely out of his slit, massaging his balls in one hand and kneading the muscles of his thigh with the other. Satoru honestly has no idea what to do with his hands, alternating from gripping and pulling at the hem of his shirt, Kento’s hair, and the sheets. He’s about to come his brains out and it’s only been two fucking minutes. He desperately needs to get a hold of himself before that happens, pulling Kento’s head back so he’s forced off his cock. The blonde looks up at him confusedly.

“You’re overdressed, don’t ya think?” he breathes out, noting the way Kento’s shirt is straining against his chest and biceps from the position he’s in. Kento huffs out a laugh, nodding in agreement and leaning back to sit on his heels. Satoru watches with rapt attention as he smoothly removes his glasses before rucking up the bottom of his henley, exposing inch by inch his muscular abdomen, chest, and arms. The shirt wasn’t hiding much to begin with, but his body was still a mouthwatering sight for Satoru. He exhales shakily.

“Goddamn,” he says weakly, eyes wide and shamelessly ogling the man in front of him. His face is positively burning at the look Kento gives him, a mischievous little smirk adorning his face that makes him want to ride him until either his knees give out or the bed breaks, whichever comes first. But even that wouldn’t get him to stop.

The blonde slowly works his sweatpants down his huge thighs, and as soon as his fat cock is in view, Satoru is drooling. It’s slightly shorter than his own, but thicker by a goddamn mile. The years have certainly been kind to him on more than one occasion– he could never imagine little emo Nanami Kento packing quite this much. 

He’s panting now. “How… how the fuck are you gonna–,” he stutters out, unable to string a single sentence together while processing what’s in front of him. “You’re gonna break me, Kento!”

“Now that would be a sight to see…” Kento muses with a playful tilt of his lips. “Strongest sorcerer in the world, ruined on a cock of all things.”

Satoru’s breath hitches as the words flow from his mouth. He’s never seen this side of him before, but before he can think about it more, Kento is shucking off his pants and giving Satoru’s clothes the same treatment. He kisses the pale skin of his thighs as he strips off his pajamas, taking ahold of his ankle and tenderly kissing the bone. His toes curl next to Kento’s ear, body desperate for more. But he’s lucky to have fallen into bed with such a giving man, because Kento almost immediately drops his legs and flips him onto his front, spreading his cheeks apart and leaning down. Satoru chokes as he feels his mouth latch onto his sensitive hole, sucking obscenely. 

He mouths at his ass like he’s been starving for it, groaning headily in between the supple flesh. Satoru arches his back all the way, almost like a cat stretching after a nap, burying his face in the soft pillow and whining into it. He gives short, abortive jerks against Kento’s face, becoming increasingly frenzied as he feels his tongue circle his rim. His cock hangs neglected between his legs, drooling pre-cum onto the sheets below. 

After a good minute or so, Kento pulls up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, which Satoru would find wildly attractive if he wasn’t reeling from the sensation of being fucked by his tongue. Kento leans to the side to retrieve his lube and a condom while letting the older man regain his bearings, which doesn’t seem to take long, seeing as Satoru is turning his head to look back at him and furrowing his brows at the materials in his hand. 

“What’s the look for?” Kento asks, raising an eyebrow at him in turn. Satoru, flush-faced and glassy-eyed, shoots him as much of a glare as he can muster up, reaching behind to take the condom out of his hand and tossing it into a far corner of the room. Kento follows the trajectory, turning back to the man and shaking his head in disbelief. “Satoru, what are you–”

Satoru pulls him down by the arm, Kento’s responding gasp allowing him to shove his tongue inside his mouth and give him a sloppy kiss from over his shoulder, holding his head in place. Kento groans, indulging himself by leaning in deeper before breaking the kiss. Satoru bites his lip and starts grinding his ass against Kento’s thigh. 

“I want it raw, baby,” he says temptingly. Kento’s eyes widen. 

He sounds dazed beyond compare, solely operating on baser instincts at this point. Kento chuckles and kisses his cheek deeply. 

“Yeah?” he asks while uncapping the lube, squirting some onto his fingers as he noses Satoru’s ear. 

Satoru smiles hotly and nods, tilting Kento’s head back to him with a finger on his chin and giving him another syrupy kiss. The press of wet fingers against his rim has him gasping into Kento’s mouth, arching back to meet his touch. He pushes two inside.

“Yes, Kento,” he mewls, sinking into the mattress as his thick fingers languidly push in and out of him. He chases the pleasurable sensations by fucking himself on them, moaning softly and tipping his head back. 

Kento is beyond aroused by the shameless display before him, pumping his fingers in faster and even adding a third, making the man yelp in surprise before the sound melts into a deep sigh. Satoru’s top half is flush with the bed, one of his hands carding into his own hair as he muffles his whines and pants into the pillow.

“Oh my fucking god, I need it,” he grits out, snapping his hips back onto Kento’s hand. The blonde smirks.

“Say what you need, Satoru,” he encourages, noting the way his ass clenches at the sound of his name. 

“Need you fucking me, baby, please. Been waiting for your fat cock inside me for so long, you’re driving me fucking insane, I—”

Amidst his babbling, Kento slicks up his cock with his other hand, not stopping the thrust of his fingers as he aligns himself with Satoru’s hole. Before he can let Satoru register what’s happening, he’s replacing his digits with the cock Satoru’s been begging for. Satoru gasps as he bottoms out, eyes widening at the stretch.

Three fingers was most definitely not enough. 

Kento isn’t faring much better, steeling his nerves so as not to come immediately. A growl rumbles from his chest as he painfully squeezes Satoru’s waist to ground himself, looking back down at the man and leaning forward to reach his ear. The new angle of his cock makes Satoru whimper, his whole body burning up. 

“Do you have any idea how much you drive me insane?” Kento growls into his ear, grinding his cock into him to get him used to the intrusion. “I’ve been waking up with hard ons every morning since Hokkaido because of you, Satoru.”

Satoru gives a throaty moan, brain short-circuiting at the overload of his senses. He’s never been so fucking full before. “Kent–”

The breath is knocked out of him as Kento delivers a harsh thrust, his fingers scrambling for purchase on his sheets. His head tips forward, face and neck red-hot with the added heat of the blonde’s body behind him. Kento establishes an unforgiving pace, forcing more desperate noises out of the man below him.

Satoru’s jaw goes slack and sighs, “Shit, baby…” into the air thick with their arousal, reaching a hand behind himself to brace it on Kento’s thick thigh, body bouncing with every thrust. 

“So good…” he slurs out, already being fucked incoherent. “So fucking good, Kento, nngh fuck…”

His breath is stolen from him when Kento wraps his hand around Satoru’s outstretched forearm, effortlessly pulling his entire body up off the bed. He smiles deliriously and moans, offering up his other arm for Kento to grab to better balance his weight. Not once did Kento’s thrusts falter, his sharp pelvic bone colliding with Satoru’s plush ass and making the fat ripple.

Satoru bites his lip, craning his neck to the side so he can see the man currently turning him into a whimpering mess. “Fucking kiss me…”

Kento gives him a wicked smile and obliges him, releasing one elbow to grab Satoru’s jaw and tilt his head back to capture his lips. Satoru sighs dreamily into the kiss, now registering that his right arm is free from Kento’s iron-clad hold. He takes it as an opening to start pumping his own cock in tandem with Kento’s thrusts, discreetly bringing his hand down to wrap around his aching cock. But before he can even reach its vicinity, Kento somehow senses the movement and stops it from venturing any further with a tight grip on his wrist. Satoru gasps into his mouth, eyes popping open in shock. 

“Nice try,” the blonde commends, not budging an inch when Satoru tries to wrestle out of his grasp. “But on my cock or not at all, Satoru.”

The fucker. Satoru gives up on trying to escape Kento, knowing he’s not winning against him when it comes to brute strength. Fine by him, he has another plan to get his way. 

He grins deviously, leveling his piercing gaze on Kento. “Your cock’s not enough for me, Nanamin.”

A blatant lie, but damn if he doesn’t love riling the blonde up. Sure, it’s not his brightest moment, with the man holding him at a vulnerable angle and his fat cock carving out its shape inside him, but he’s been called a fast learner. 

And what he learns is that Kento only releases his wrist, not to give him the green light to go ahead and touch himself, but to take a fistful of his snowy hair and smash his face into the pillow below him. 

Satoru screams into the cotton currently suffocating him as Kento begins pounding him ruthlessly, still keeping his left elbow locked behind him as more leverage than just holding the back of his head. 

“Needy slut. This still not enough for you, huh?” he says darkly, letting go of his arm to better stabilize himself on the mattress beside Satoru’s head. He continues fucking him without pause, a light clapping noise reverberating in the room coupled with a muted thud with every impact of the duvet on the wall.

When he doesn’t immediately respond, Kento pulls his head up by the tight grip on his hair, a string of spit connecting Satoru to the pillow below him.

“Answer me, Satoru,” he croons into his ear, taunting him. “Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet after all that big talk.” 

“S-Sorry, ‘m sorry, baby, I can’t—” He can’t think, can’t talk properly, can't do shit, not with the way Kento’s making sparks of pure pleasure skip up his spine. It’s a downright sin that he's never been able to feel so good before. “God, fuck me… right there, Kento, please…”

Kento smirks, hands now clenching the plush of his ass and very likely leaving marks. “But you said my cock’s not enough for you to come, Satoru…” He’s becoming increasingly mean, and fuck if that doesn’t get Satoru dripping like a goddamn faucet.  

“Since I apparently can’t give you what you want, why don’t you show me how you want to be fucked instead.”

He abruptly stops the movement of his hips, making the white-haired man whine in dazed confusion and look over his shoulder at the man practically torturing him.

He whimpers dejectedly. “But Kent–”

“Are you going to make me repeat myself?” Kento asks sharply, resting his hot palm over the crest of Satoru’s ass as a warning if he doesn’t listen. Satoru tenses up, anticipating a strike that doesn’t come.

“Fuck yourself on my cock, Satoru. Now.”

Enough said. Satoru weakly props himself up on his forearms, slowly starting to fuck himself backward on his cock the same way he did to his fingers. His body aches, and yeah, he’s kind of a dumbass for assuming that Kento wouldn’t make him work for his orgasm, but this is downright cruel. Still, after a few moments of slow fucking, he feels himself getting more stimulated, especially when he’s able to angle himself so he can hit his prostate right there…

“Ohh, shit,” he moans wantonly, back arching at the feel of Kento’s cock filling him perfectly with every bounce. He fucks himself faster, the repeated collisions of his ass with Kento’s thighs driving him all the more wild. 

Kento’s mouth parts at the gorgeous sight before him, helpless to the way the arch of Satoru’s spine deepens as he chases his pleasure, how he’s getting off from him alone. He runs his hands down his slender waist, feeling each muscle contract and loosen as he moves.

“Jesus, Satoru…” Kento breathes out unevenly, hopelessly entranced. “Just like that… yes, please…” 

His thrusts stutter. Nanami Kento… begging?  

Oh, he’s done for. Ruined for anyone else.

“Again,” Satoru gasps, obsessed with the way Kento sounds when he’s desperate. “Beg for me again, Kento…”

Kento begins rutting inelegantly into him of his own accord, leaning down to press kisses to his glistening shoulder and nape. 

“Please,” he whines without hesitation, shamelessly feeding into Satoru’s whims. “Please, Satoru, you feel so good, just fuck me…” 

Satoru, turned on beyond belief by this newfound kink of his, starts fucking back into Kento faster. His jaw becomes slack and his eyebrows knit together, feeling Kento’s cockhead nail his prostate with each brutal thrust. Kento, in turn, grits his teeth to try and hold back his orgasm, praying to whoever is listening that he’s coherent enough to see Satoru fall apart under him. It’s proving to be a challenge, however, with the way Satoru’s bouncing, grinding, and rolling his hips on his cock like he’s an addict getting one last fix for life.

“God, fuck,” Satoru draws out, sobs emitting from his throat. “Gonna come… unh, Kento…”

“Come for me…” he pants, muscles so unbelievably taut as he feels the wave of his own orgasm approaching. “Please come for me, only for me…”

Fuck, he could so do that. Satoru grins, a wild and frenzied thing. “Watch me.”

And that’s it. Satoru comes with a bitten-off shout, back arching into the continuous assault of the younger man’s hips as he rides his orgasm down to its core. It’s a beautiful, almost holy experience that Kento feels he is not worthy of seeing, and yet here he is, watching Satoru arch his back so deeply that he swears his spine will split in half. 

He did that.

“Unh, shit…” Satoru grinds out, overstimulated to the nines and snapping Kento out of his reverie. “Keep fucking it out of me, baby, just like that…”

He feels drunk, static to the touch. Even his cursed energy is going haywire, the light of the lamp flickering and a corner of the window cracking slightly. Each thrust punches out a, “Yes, yes, yes, yes–” before he abruptly goes silent.

His mouth hangs open and his eyes are screwed shut, desperately hanging onto the backs of Kento’s thighs. His feet aren’t even touching the mattress anymore, toes curled and soles arched so much from the way his body has tensed up. Kento holds one foot, caressing the soft skin as he rubs up and down his spine with his other hand. The tight heat around Kento, tighter than he’s experienced all night, is threatening to make him come too. 

Satoru does a sharp intake of air, melting into the bed and panting harshly against the pillow. Kento accidentally shifts his hips in the process, causing Satoru to whimper in supposed pain.

“Fuck, s-sensitive…” he gasps out, fingers clenching and unclenching the bedspread. Kento chuckles at the sight of him fucked-out and drooling, brushing his hair off his forehead before pulling his still-hard cock out of him. It forces a squeak out of him, but he sees the way he immediately relaxes after. 

“You alright?” he asks, a twinge of concern lacing his voice. Something about rendering the strongest sorcerer the jujutsu world has to offer out of commission from a little rough fucking isn’t very appealing to him. 

Satoru nods, swallowing thickly to coat the dryness of his throat. “Jesus, I think you made me black out for a second there.”

…okay, he lied. It’s a little appealing. “Yeah?” Kento says, not even pretending to be shameful. 

Satoru laughs lightheartedly, grazing his hand on Kento’s chest and running it down his slick body. “Quit smiling, you fucking sadist.”

Kento snorts, watching Satoru turn around so he’s lying on his back, cupping Kento’s face in both hands to bring him down into a searing kiss. He gets a hand into Satoru’s perfect hair, tipping his head to the right so he can deepen the kiss.

Before he can continue ravishing him (as if he hasn’t been enough), Satoru lets go of Kento’s face and breaks the kiss to push his body back, getting onto his knees and continuing to kiss down the length of his torso, ending right above where his cock is still throbbing for release. Kento sighs in exasperation upon seeing a familiar devilish smirk and waggle of eyebrows.

“What’s that? Does little Nanami want some help?” Satoru mimes listening to his cock with a hand behind his ear. How he’s able to revert back to his childish ways after an earth-shattering orgasm is beyond him.

“Satoru–”

“You’re right. ‘Little Nanami’ is boring,” he says, stroking his shaft in feigned thought and tapping it against his lips. Kento clenches his jaw, groaning behind gritted teeth. 

“Fuck, Satoru…”

Suddenly, the older man gasps, his mouth hovering right above the tip. “‘Nana-peen!’ Get it? ‘Cuz Nanamin and then ‘peen’ as in peni–”

Kento grips Satoru’s hair and forces him down onto his cock, and he can feel his laugh choked out of him. He moans and lifts himself higher on his knees, getting both hands on Satoru’s head and skullfucking the living shit out of him. 

Satoru looks up at him with watery blue eyes, white lashes clumped together with unshed tears as his throat widens to accommodate his swelling girth. He looks unbelievably good like this, mouth stuffed full and near crying. He tells him as much, forcing the man’s eyes to flutter and his ass to clench from where Kento can see it.

He gags a handful of times, pulling off his cock to catch his breath for all of two seconds before returning to the task at hand (literally), using his fist to jack off where he isn’t able to sink down all the way. The amount of saliva and precum that coats his shaft and is stuck to his skin should be sinful. 

A few more thrusts have Kento meeting his maker, coming down Satoru’s throat and finishing off on his awaiting tongue and face when he pulls out. Satoru gathers the cum at the front of his mouth and slowly spits it back onto his cock, continuing to pump his hand with the filthy mixture of spit and cum as lubricant. Liquid heat pools into Kento’s core watching Satoru smile and bite his lip, giving his cock fucked-out giggles as he watches himself stroke the thick length, an obscene wet sound accompanying his movements. It’s like something out of a goddamn porn video.

The younger sorcerer pulls Satoru up by his elbow, kissing him deeply and tasting himself on his tongue, erotic as fuck but not enough to get him going again. Thank god too, he doesn’t think he can feel his dick right now anyway. The same could be said for Satoru’s ass, though RCT is always an option…

…for another time. 

Kento smiles into the kiss, pulling back to give one to his flushed cheek. “How are you feeling?” 

Satoru hums contentedly, wrapping his arms around Kento’s neck and using his weight to make both of them fall back on the bed, the disheveled blonde landing on top of him with a grunt. “I feel amazing.”

Kento snorts, rolling to the side of him and brushing his fingers along the clean lines of his pretty face. “An orgasm tends to do that to you.”

“Mm, technically two,” Satoru sighs nonchalantly, snuggling into the bed and popping one eye open to gauge Kento’s surprised face. He grins salaciously. “Shot a blank when I was blowing you.”

He’s dumbstruck. “But I didn’t do anyth–”

“Oh, you did,” Satoru fills in slyly. “It was your voice and the way you fucked my throat that did it.”

Kento swallows thickly, face heating up. “Stop trying to get me going again.”

The white-haired man chuckles, tracing Kento’s lips. “I’m just talking, Kento.”

“Yeah, that. Stop it.”

He slept the best he’d ever had that night, probably because he’d had the man he’d been pining over for the past six months in bed next to him, breathing his air, exchanging his warmth. 

By morning, he couldn’t take his eyes off Satoru, the way the morning rays caught his white hair and painted it gold, his equally white lashes fluttering softly against his cheeks. He would’ve been content to look at him forever, to admire the way his breath escaped his parted red lips, still plump from the way he kissed him and used his mouth for his own pleasure. 

His fingers trace random patterns and shapes into his skin, not enough to rouse him from his slumber, but to keep him in that beautiful dreamscape that he dares not snatch him from. Satoru smiles in his sleep, nuzzling further into the pillow at his soft touches.

An unfamiliar feeling blooms in his chest looking at the man. 

It couldn’t be. 

Could it?

Is this what it feels like? To be in–

“AAAAH!!”

Both men immediately sit up in bed, Satoru a bit more out of it than his other half. 

“What the fuck??” he gasps out, looking at Kento with bleary eyes.

Kento scrambles to get the cover off him, immediately searching for his pants and shirt. “Was that Megumi?” he asks, panicked.

Satoru follows suit with the dressing and they both rush out of the room to sprint down the hall, bursting into Yuuji’s room to see Megumi on the floor, plastered on the wall, white as a sheet, as Yuuji turns his attention to the adults in the room from his bed.

Satoru pants, quickly kneeling by Megumi’s side and inspecting him for injuries. “‘Gumi? What happened?”

Instead of the black-haired boy responding, Yuuji frantically blurts out, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare him! I jus’ turned over and opened my eyes and he was there and then he started screaming and he fell off the bed and I tried calming him down and–”

Kento comes to Yuuji’s side, soothing the little boy with gentle rubs on his back. “Yuuji, hey, it’s alright. Megumi-kun, are you okay?”

Megumi nods sheepishly from his place on the floor, his father helping him stand up. “Yeah, sorry. I just wasn’t expecting to wake up next to him.”

Both fathers laugh breathlessly at the situation, Kento running a hand through his hair as he calms his racing heart. It’s then that his daughter waddles into the room, half out of it herself as she rubs her face in exhaustion.

“Why are men always so dramatic?” Nobara huffs indignantly, glaring at all four of them. 

Satoru snorts, picking up Megumi and resting him on his hip. “Sorry ‘bout that, Nobara-kun. Though this might’ve been on me this time for suggesting they sleep in the same bed.” He looks at Kento with a teasing smile.

Kento chuckles warmly, ruffling both his kids’ hair. “And me for agreeing to it. At least we know for next time.” 

Satoru’s stomach fills with butterflies at the prospect of a ‘next time,’ face buried in Megumi’s hair but eyes fixed on the handsome blonde with pure adoration in his eyes. Maybe in time, he’ll be less discreet about hiding his love for the man, especially in front of the kids.

The tension oblivious to the kids in the room is broken with Megumi asking, “Dad, why do you have so many bruises on your neck?” 

…well, shit.