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Being a jujutsu sorcerer was to adapt to an ever changing professional environment, Kento Nanami was well aware. When a natural lull happened between seasons, fewer curses to track down or simply less created, the lesser seasoned sorcerers tended to treat the free time like a break leading to inevitable slip-ups. There was an ‘incident’ involving a first year student soon after Kento noticed the lack of activity. Naturally, said student was Itadori Yuuji.

For a boy having no previous exposure to jujutsu before becoming Sukuna’s vessel, Itadori seemed to be a magnet for cursed energy leading to all sorts of complications. The flavor of this week’s oddity was bodily transformation; Itadori was, until further notice, biologically female. 

Being able to adapt was the mark of a mature professional, Kento believed. He also believed in constructive criticism to improve performance, for himself as well as the students of Jujutsu Academy and critically… he was not adapting well to Itadori Yuuji. 

He was an amicable, hardworking young man who was able to work around Kento’s technique very well, but Kento had found himself off-balance around Itadori from the beginning. His theories on why were piecemeal and inconsistent. Something about the way Itadori called him that terrible nickname, or his teary eyed expression being difficult to forget. 

With Itadori’s anatomical changes, Kento’s disquiet became more akin to a state of constant distraction. 

The cursed energy had shrunk Itadori’s height significantly, making him 168 centimeters Kento noted. Itadori’s athleticism kept his altered center of gravity from affecting his fighting technique, but his fat percentage was visibly different at the chest and hips. Kento noticed these things because movement made Itadori jiggle as they fought together; Itadori being his assignment partner meant he was Kento’s responsibility to monitor. He had donned a borrowed girl’s uniform and seemed to feel fine fighting in a skirt—something Kento also had to monitor, and did not feel fine about. 

Itadori’s sunny disposition and physical prowess should have made the mission pleasant, despite any concerns Kento may have on Itadori’s current condition, or criticisms Kento may impart to his mentee. The juvenile way Kento was reacting to—the benign differences of secondary sex characteristics made him feel ridiculous. 

When was the last time Kento had slept with someone? That thought seemed to lead down a dangerous path, so he ignored it to save what was left of his alertness for the last few curses he needed to dispose of.

They were almost finished eradicating the last of them when Kento noticed something off with Itadori. He saw it in the way Itadori’s moves lagged, his upper body stiff; by the time every curse was dispatched, Itadori was sweating and visibly gritting his teeth. As the last curse dissolved, Kento turned to Itadori just as he flinched down, doubling over

“Itadori-kun?” Kento called sharply, crossing the distance between them. He put a steadying hand on Itadori’s back and glanced him over, not finding any visible damage outside small cuts and bruises.

Itadori grunted a bit, clutching at his own shirt. “Ah, hey it’s—it’s okay, I’m not hurt.” 

Kento found that hard to believe, as once Itadori had several holes in his abdomen and still told Kento he was ‘okay’. “The faster you tell me what is ailing you, the faster I can help.” 

Itadori sighed. Kento watched a drop of sweat roll from his flushed cheek to the point of his chin. “Just give me a second, I can usually take care of it myself,” he replied quickly.

Itadori’s hands grasped at his chest; Kento’s eyebrows shot up as he watched each hand cup his large breasts and knead. His hands weren’t big enough to fully hold them, size shrunken with every other part of him. Kento stopped breathing as he watched Itadori grope himself, until a wave of sudden shame overtook the reactionary arousal pulsing through him. 

“What exactly are you doing , Itadori-kun?” Kento asked, sharply. He wasn’t trying to stimulate himself in front of Kento while they were on assignment together. Itadori… even if he had an inkling of attraction to an older man like Kento, he seemed incapable of that kind of shamelessness. “Tell me so I can assist and speed this up.”

“It’s, ugh, Nanamin I’m sorry it’s embarrassing but,” Itadori groaned. “It’s a part of the cursed energy thing, it made me, y'know…” 

Kento did not know. As the adult in the situation, he should take charge and let Itadori rely on him, but this entire night he had been at a loss over Itadori’s new state of being…Kento stared at Itadori with silent impatience. His eyes rounded as they met Kento’s before quickly looking somewhere behind his shoulder. 

“...Fertile?” Itadori said, like he wasn’t sure. 

Kento sucked in a deep breath through his teeth. He suddenly felt light-headed so close to Itadori in this empty place, alone. He flinched his hand away from Itadori’s back. “What…?”

Itadori looked even worse now, both cringing from whatever was ailing him and appearing like a kicked puppy in reaction to Kento. “It’s not contagious, don’t worry! Gojou-sensei wouldn’t send you out with me if you could catch it.”

Kento wasn’t sure he agreed with that statement, but he didn’t have time to dispute it before Itadori let out a groan, sitting himself down on the floor. “Usually it comes out after a massage, cause I looked it up online but—it feels like it’s stuck?” Itadori stated, like a question. “I need—usually I do this shirtless so my uniform won’t get wet.”

Wet? ” Kento groaned; a question he would very much like answered. 

“Mmm,” Itadori agreed, kneading harder. “With the milk, it gets—sticky.”

So that was what Itadori had meant by fertile, Kento thought. If one forgot the word ‘lactation’ saying fertile made sense as short-hand, he told himself as his body rocked involuntarily, shivering with a sudden flush. He was kneeling next to his student, in a derelict warehouse cloaked for their mission to destroy several low-level curses, and Kento could not quiet his thoughts—he could hardly keep them internal. Itadori’s tits were leaking milk regularly enough that he needed to learn how to milk them himself. Itadori usually did so bare chested, Kento assumed letting the liquid dribble and squirt onto his skin instead of the black fabric tenting over his curves. 

“Do you mind, Nanamin?” Itadori asked, lifting his uniform shirt about halfway before waiting for his reply.

Kento cleared his throat. “Go ahead, please.” 

He watched as Itadori shed his shirt and the sports bra underneath. His chest bounced, free from binding and slightly paler than the skin of his face and forearms exposed to the sun. Itadori hissed as he moved, the tension obvious in the tendons of his neck as his hands cupped his tits and squeezed. It was rhythmic, not appearing to stimulate Itadori as his hands attempted to massage more breast tissue from armpit to crest than anywhere. Kento noted to himself how deeply nonsexual this seemed to be for Itadori, how his brow was creased with discomfort and his nipples only pebbled at the cold air, not touch. Kento’s reaction was not the same, as he physically regulated his breathing and hoped Itadori did not glance at his lap.

Lashes fluttering, Itadori’s eyes watered as he bit into his lip. His chest rose and fell with each breath, skin sheening with sweat from previous exertion. Kento watched for at least a minute, letting Itadori’s frustrated sounds fill the silence—eyes always glancing at his dusky nipples, which stayed dry. Seeing some moisture break free onto Itadori’s cheek, something in Kento twisted pleasantly. Itadori hardly ever let himself show discomfort, always staying strong in the face of pain. Perhaps, Kento thought, he writhed because it wasn’t quite pain. Kento leaned over Itadori, watching him take a shuddering breath. 

“I’m sorry. It—won’t come out,” Itadori said, immediately wiping away the tear he shed. Kento felt it was a shame.

“There are other ways to get milk to flow,” Kento said. 

Itadori looked at him with surprise. “Really? You know how?” 

He looked so relieved, so complete in his trust of Kento to know the answer, it appeared like  ecstasy to Kento. He felt a pinch of pain, guilt lacing through Kento as he removed Itadori’s hands from his breasts... Before Kento could even offer, Itadori asked, “Please Nanamin, would you help me?”

Kento didn’t pause to think again. Bending his head, he stabilized himself with a hand on the ground and put Itadori’s nipple into his mouth. Itadori yelped, his free hand flailing as Kento hollowed his cheeks and sucked the tip between his lips. 

Itadori’s entire body was stiff as a board for a moment; Kento rolled his tongue around the areola, tasting only sweat for now. Itadori’s hand clasped around Kento’s with a gasping breath as he pulled away from Itadori’s chest. 

“Use your hand to massage the other one,” Kento said, pragmatic. Cupping the other side of Itadori’s chest and nuzzling into the warmth of his sternum, he could feel how rapidly Itadori’s heart beat within his rib cage. 

His voice seemed to wake something up, Itadori jolting a little before stuttering. “A-ah, okay!” and using his hand to make the same squeezing motion as before. Once his order was followed, Kento allowed himself to once again suck at Itadori’s other nipple—harder now, to encourage a flow. Itadori seemed sensitive to the change, writhing a bit and letting out a huff. Kento made sure not to  sink his teeth in, no matter how tempting, but he didn’t stop. He wanted to—needed to taste Itadori’s milk; he knew it wasn’t about relieving Itadori at this point. 

All Kento tasted was his own saliva as Itadori said, “It aches this way,” quiet and low.

Kento felt his groin ache; did Itadori-kun even know what he was doing? Kento had been hard for what felt like the entire night, but he wouldn’t dare touch himself. The way he let his discipline slip was taking his free hand and grabbing at Itadori’s other breast, his hand rubbing at his sore nipple. He felt Itadori gasping, tits pushing into Kento’s face as his tongue tasted something sweet.

“Ooh,” Itadori said, as milk started to slowly leak from him. 

Kento swallowed, pulling away to watch his spit-slick nipple bead up white, a small amount already trickling down the slope of Itadori’s chest. Itadori watched with him, little huffs of breath escaping his open mouth. Kento looked at Itadori’s open lips as he sucked away the milk, swallowing it down audibly. Itadori’s eyes hooded, relief resting obscenely on his features. The milk Itadori was producing was sweet as cream, watery at first before thickening to a flavor Kento might call his favorite. He swallowed a mouthful, Itadori’s other nipple leaking onto his fingers as he flicked and teased the bud of it. When Kento felt the flow begin to drip more, he detached from Itadori’s nipple with a wet sound to switch over; Itadori gasped and held out his hands.

“Oh, you don’t have to! I mean.” Itadori paused, catching a breath. He was leaning back onto his elbow, nearly prone under Kento as he hovered above Itadori kneeling. “It must be pretty gross having to swallow this stuff, right? I can just let it out now that you, uh, got it flowing.”

That would be a terrible waste of something Kento could possibly never have again. “You taste delicious.” 

Itadori looked surprised for a moment, then bashful. He let himself lie back fully, bare atop the shirt he discarded, blushing and seeming to think something over. He kept Kento in suspense for a few moments. “Well, um. If it’s cool with Nanamin then, okay.” 

It was very cool with him. Bracing himself over Itadori, he leaned down and licked at the leaking tip of his nipple, indulging himself. Itadori shivered, Kento circled his tongue around the areola, collecting all the milk on his tongue before finally sucking the tender flesh into his mouth. Kento caged Itadori in on his elbows and knees, feeling his body heat up by proximity, feverish under his suit. Itadori lay under him in just a uniform skirt, but his exposed skin was warm and glistening with sweat; Kento couldn’t stop a hand from reaching out and touching. 

Itadori gasped. His movements were twitchy, some points relaxing into the floor, others seizing with a stuttered breath. Kento knew it was his doing; he could have just sucked out what Itadori so kindly gave him, but he was playing with his food. Itadori’s tits were perfect in his mouth—big and soft and sensitive. When Kento finally loses himself, he gently scrapes his teeth against the swollen nub to feel Itadori flinch. He felt suddenly absorbed into stimulating Itadori’s small, helpless sighs; Itadori’s chest was leaking now, his stomach slick and dripping and sweet. 

“Nanamin - !” Itadori squirmed, as Kento found himself biting a mark onto his student’s collarbone. He grunted in response, pinching Itadori’s nipples into squirting milk as he watched. “Are you…?” Itadori whined, Kento hardly registering words until he felt Itadori’s thigh brush up against his own, coming within a centimeter of his hard cock. Kento jolted away, sudden panic breaking his fugue state. Itadori was looking past his chest at the tent in Kento’s pants with an unreadable look; Kento froze. 

Itadori grabbed Kento’s hand with a shy smile. “I only asked cause - ,” Kento watched in slow motion as Itadori brought Kento’s hand under his skirt and pressed lightly against damp cotton. “Ykno, me too? But you can’t see it, so…” 

Itadori licked his lips, the same eager nerves that he wore before a particularly challenging lesson. Kento shifted his fingers against Itadori’s underwear; his eyes went half lidded and glossy. He was going to be the death of Nanami Kento. 

Any responsible adult would have stopped then and there; Kento was not feeling particularly responsible, let alone adult. 

Popping a few buttons open at the collar of his shirt, Kento leaned over Itadori and pressed his body down onto Itadori’s. Both Kento’s thighs between Itadori’s, he rubbed against Itadori’s slit beneath the clinging fabric as his cock gained some release rubbing against Itadori’s sticky stomach through his slacks. He grunted, the floor harsh under his knees but worth the strain to hear Itadori suddenly whimper, hands unexpectedly coming to cup Kento’s hips. 

“More,” Itadori said, grabbing at Kento’s waist to move Kento against him, eyes shut tight on a groan. 

“Demanding,” Kento replied, affectionate. It was unexpectedly bold, but then again Itadori had always been as honest as he could be—it made sense for his body to be just the same. He rutted against Itadori harder, hissing as the fabric of his own clothes became damp, clinging from the milk leaking from Itadori’s tits and the sweat between them. His underwear was so soaked that Kento could feel Itadori’s cunt, the dip between his lips and his clit, swollen and ripe as Kento rubbed a finger around it’s apex. Itadori’s mouth opened wide and wet every time Kento touched him. Kento wanted to push his cock into Itadori’s open mouth. Kento wanted to spit in it, he wanted to bite Itadori’s lip hard enough to bleed. He wanted to taste all of Itadori Yuuji.

Kento knelt up above him to slide off Itadori’s simple panties. Itadori lifted his hips without question, muttering “Yes, yeah, fuck,” under his breath as the thin white cotton was taken down to his shoes and off one foot at a time. Kento could smell how wet he was, it made him want lick the cum off the crumpled fabric in his palm. Itadori shivered, his cunt clenching around air between his slick thighs. Kento watched Itadori drip, Itadori spreading his muscular thighs wide to give his mentor a good show.

Shuffling forward on his knees, Kento let Itadori’s thighs rest against his own as he pet two fingers from clit to perineum; Itadori’s breath hitched. His nipples were reddened from Kento’s sucking, swollen and tempting for Kento to bend down once more and taste—so he did. Kento needed to savor every bit of Itadori, but his body could only be so patient. Licking at his nipple, Kento slid a finger into Itadori’s pussy. He took a shuddering gulp of milk as Itadori moaned low, moved his hips against Nanami’s palm and arched his back. “‘S good,” he panted. “Feels good, Nanamin.”

Kento didn’t speak with his mouth full. He put another finger inside Itadori’s wet cunt.

Itadori clenched around the digits, shivering and closing his eyes. “It’s, hmm. Unh, that feels -,” 

Kento twisted his hand, using his thumb to rub at Itadori’s little prick; Itadori’s breath sped up. The way Itadori felt, all soft and swollen and wet with milk—Kento understood why Itadori had used the word fertile to describe his body. One hand pinching at a nipple and the other fucking deep to the last knuckle into Itadori’s pink slit, Kento bit Itadori’s neck as he groaned. Just the sensation of Itadori’s tightness around Kento’s fingers was enough to drive him further, push him harder away from rational thought and into a throbbing, unignorable need. Itadori’s pleased noises cut off suddenly as his thigh muscles tensed visibly; his eyes shut tight and his mouth opened wide to take a breath. Itadori pulsed around Kento’s fingers and arched his back as he came silently.

“Hhhhhhhffh,” Itadori breathed, as his body deflated. Kento didn’t remove his fingers, though he did slow his pace as Itadori’s thighs twitched and his dazed eyes blinked open. He licked messily at the milk leaking from Itadori’s tits, but tried to be gentle as the boy came down.  When Kento looked up at him, Itadori was watching back, his expression hard to read as he brought a hand up to cup Kento’s cheek. It felt as though he should say something but his mouth didn’t seem to work properly as Itadori’s thumb trailed across Kento’s chin, just shy of his bottom lip. As he pulled his hand away, Itadori brought the wet digit to his own mouth and licked it. Kento watched with a slack jaw, Itadori’s nose wrinkling slightly.

“Does it really taste that good…?” he asked.

Kento closed his mouth, feeling at an utter loss for words. Itadori’s gaze sharpened from its lazy heat and began to burn as Kento leaned close to him, until their foreheads nearly met. Kento was close enough to feel as Itadori licked his lips, to taste it. Kento dare not look away even as his eyes strained, the ache in him for more near endless.

“Let me show you.” He said, in a desperate whisper, as Itadori let him.