Work Text:
it wasn’t that you didn’t do relationships, or that you weren’t interested. you just couldn’t find the time away from your constantly life threatening career, nor were you any longer trusting (i.e. naive) enough to embark on an intimate relationship with a stranger. you didn’t have much in the way of friends, hell the few friends you did have were coworkers you had known for years and even then you still had a tendency to hold most of them at arms’ length, excluding gojo, who managed to cheerily worm his way into seemingly everyone’s personal lives. as he was doing now, with you.
the two of you sat in the dimly lit nook of a quietly bustling lounge after work that evening. it was a rare occasion that gojo was able to cajole you into stepping out and embracing the nightlife with him, both of you busy enough with your own schedules but especially since he had known for years your averseness to crowds. but hey, gojo was buying and free drinks were calling your name. after some catching up and a couple vodka cokes, you were pleasantly buzzed, biting back a smile at the intrigued looks both women and men sent the pair of you, nestled away in your corner. smirking like a fox, gojo slid his too lanky body closer to you in the booth, curling his arm over your shoulder.
ordinarily, you would have pushed him away, not keen on physical contact from just anyone, but you were tipsy and he was gojo. gojo satoru knew you better than most; had seen you at your worst, half dead, bloody, near mad. he had pulled you from cliff’s edge, had saved you time and time again, and conversely, he was also the reason you drank. you were certain his idiocy had likely shortened your life just as much as he had saved it. gojo was a dear friend, but he knew how to press your buttons and press them he did.
“so who is he?”
you looked at him through furrowed, half drunken brow. “who’s who?”
“who’s the guy you’re fucking these days?” he asks with no preamble, sipping his vodka cranberry lemonade and glancing down at you from his blacked out frames, his chapped lips curved delightfully around a cheshire smile.
you don’t give anything away, and you laugh, almost too loud above the soft, jazzy r&b playing over the lounge speakers. you pray he doesn’t notice.
(he notices.)
“what? you hear yourself ask. “why do you always assume i’m fucking someone?”
gojo smiles incomprehensibly wider at your laugh, his arm tightening around your shoulder. “i’ve known you for almost a decade at this point, you really don’t think i can tell when you’re getting laid on a regular basis?”
“i mean, god, i would hope not.”
“you’re a lot nicer when you’re getting some,” he says.
“is that so,” you say dryly.
“hate to break it to you, kid.” you can see him wink at you over his glasses and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. “really, you just exude the air of the well fucked, let’s just say that.”
“you’re disgusting, gojo.” you sip your drink and laugh, shaking your head.
“i’m right, and you can’t even deny it. but, on the off chance i am wrong…why don’t you come back to my place tonight?” his voice was silken, quiet, husky in your ear.
you chuckle and shake him off your shoulder, half missing his friendly warmth but determined to prove a point. you knew he wasn’t serious, that this was yet another ploy of his to get you to spill the truth. gojo had casually flirted with you and pretty much everyone you knew since you the day you had met him. there…may have been one or two…close..encounters with gojo when you both were far gone and desperate for comfort, but you had never gone further than a heavy make out session with his hand up your shirt.
you attempt to point your finger in his face, swaying slightly. ever the decent friend, gojo reaches out and helps guide your hand to point at him. he shimmers slightly kaleidoscopic, his white shock of hair softly glowing under the romantic light of the bar.
“thanks -get off me- thanks. listen, asshole.” biting back a smile, still pointing in his face after you shake off his grip and gojo mockingly raises his hands in self defense, and tries not to giggle under the weight of your faux serious stare. “i’m not fucking anyone, and i’m definitely not fucking you.”
“am i interrupting something?” when you register the tall, dominating figure casting a shadow over your table as nanami kento, you feel your heart skip a beat, and you desperately resist the blush cascading over your sun kissed skin. “is this idiot bothering you, y/n?” nanami’s voice is dry, half amused.
“k-nanami! i…i didn’t— you’re back,” and you’re fucking breathless and his eyes are soft and warm and oh
oh god.
here’s the thing.
you didn’t do relationships. but nanami kento was not a man you could bear to ever deny.
the last time you had seen nanami had been a week prior. for hours, nanami had sucked on your clit and worked you open with his thick fingers so intensely that you couldn’t help but gush against his mouth, trembling and gasping as you soaked him in your come. his kiss after he had lifted his face from between your thick, slippery thighs was sloppy and overwhelming, and you felt yourself ready for another round as he moaned softly against your tongue. that same night, nanami had inadvertently made you cry, grunting as he ruthlessly thrust into you, fucking you so deep and good with your legs hiked high on his shoulders that he had unlocked some sort of inner vault of emotion you rarely accessed; the orgasm he had coaxed from you was one of the best in your life and he had chuckled when you told him so later, cuddling in the afterglow, nanami peppering your whole face with kisses as you lightly stroked his still slightly heaving, sweaty chest while he massaged slow circles into your back. and then he had left to embark on a mission you were unsure he would return from; and now he was here, and you were drunk and your lover was in front of you and you could almost cry from how badly you wanted to feel him come inside you.
you could feel yourself starting to heat up under your collar, and you tried to think less indecent thoughts. but the images of the intimate moments you spent together began a loop in your brain and you could feel a slow smile crawl across your face as he gazed down at you. nanami’s lips quirked and a lightning hot thrill shot through you.
“nanami!” gojo exclaims, ignoring the rude remark, as you stare up silently at nanami, his gaze flitting between a slight concern towards you and distaste towards gojo. “sit with us!”
does that feel good, baby?
you nod, remembering your manners. “please, nanami. sit with us and save me from him.”
nanami slides into the booth on your opposite side, nodding at the bartender. as gojo chatters away, your gaze slides to nanami, taking in his dark button up loosened at the throat, his tie gone, his sleeves rolled up his wiry forearms. nanami’s hands, his fingers running up and down the sides of his sweating glass of dark liquor. you listen quietly, sipping your refill as nanami unwinds and debriefs with you and gojo the outcome of his mission. it hadn’t been too dangerous, a dead end with elusive trap doors, but you missed out on the finer details as you hungrily took in the man before you.
“i can’t believe i get to taste you, fuck. your pussy makes me fucking desperate, y/n.”
your eyes are pulled back to nanami’s hands, his hands, god. you thought about those big hands spreading your thighs wide, how he pulled your hands away from your soaking pussy when you got shy and tried to hide from him. you tried to stay present as gojo relayed to nanami the details of his own last trip, but instead the instant replay of nanami worshipping your body and bringing you to climax took precedent in your drunk brain.
“anyway, we were talking about y/n’s dating life,” gojo says, nudging you and you shove him back harder than necessary.
“really,” nanami says and smiles, running a hand through his hair. did he have to do something that turned you on in front of gojo? god, you sounded like a such a man. it wasn’t nanami’s fault everything he did aroused you.
he was a couple liquors deep, and you could see the alcohol beginning to take effect, his usual demure smiles lilting into playfulness, his eyes twinkling. “please, y/n, don’t let me interrupt. how is your dating life?” nanami asks, his elbow grazing against yours. you could move your arm, but so could he. both of you decidedly do not. the contact alone is setting your body aflame.
he was still looking at you, and you turned your head, finding his downcast eyes on your rosy mouth, still wet from your glass. his gaze tracked the unconscious movement of your tongue swiping across your full lips, his own tongue peeking out to wet his. unbeknownst to you, the blue eyes behind sunglasses manage to catch the motion of nanami’s observance and a cheshire cat smile begins to grow.
“i wasn’t talking about my dating life, this jackass was talking about it,” you reply hastily, hiking a thumb at the aforementioned white haired idiot by your side. “there’s nothing to even talk about, really.”
you and nanami weren’t dating. he was just being a really good guy and fucking you on the regular, keeping a spare toothbrush and clothes at yours, sleeping over and breaking a thousand rules you knew not to when it came to a man who wasn’t actually your man. when you were tipsy, you could call him your lover in your head, a title you would never speak aloud to anyone else, but it was true, wasn’t it? nanami was your lover. you would never admit it to gojo, lest you wanted the world to know what you and nanami still kept between only you; you still weren’t entirely sure how it had started, too many late nights spent together on missions and nanami being nanami, and you were single and lonely and traumatized, and he was too, both of you just needing some human comfort but instead you had found a raging fire between you, only quelled when nanami’s head was nestled between your thighs or when you rode him, gasping as he groaned and begged you to fuck yourself harder on his dick in the quiet of the dawn rising in his moonlit bedroom.
“that’s too bad,” nanami says, taking a swig from his glass. his eyes never left yours. “a man would be lucky to be graced just with your presence.”
it hadn’t been much of a doubt before. but you were definitely fucking him tonight.
embarrassingly, your mouth falls open before you can stop it, and you are unable to control the laugh that spills from your throat that a) nanami would say that and b) nanami would say that in front of gojo.
who, when you glance to your right, was no longer there. you suppose he had gone to top up his drink, and you turn quickly back to nanami, who seems somehow even closer, and you can feel his big hot hand slide underneath your skirt and onto your mid thigh, squeezing your burning flesh before running his thumb in slow circles. you breathe in shakily, feeling dizzy. you were aching for more from him.
not just sex. don’t get it wrong, you desperately wanted him, carnally, bordering on indecently. you wanted him to fuck you into his mattress, with your face pressed against his pillow, breathing in the scent of him. you wanted him to drink from you, to take from you, you wanted to lose yourself in his arms. you wouldn’t admit it. but you would gladly take everything nanami would give you and then some. you could feel the raging blush across your cheeks, your whole body throbbing with need.
when you look up at nanami from under your lashes, you notice his flushed skin, the smile curving his soft lips, the way he looks at you like you are something not of this world, dazzling, breathtaking. as though he is in awe. his hand reaches up and pushes your hair away from your face, lingering against your cheek.
“i missed you,” he says, and you feel yourself almost come undone. the tears are threatening to swell, and you catch his hand.
“i missed you too,” you whisper. “i want you to take me home, kento.”
hearing the soft need in your voice, nanami immediately stands, interlocking his fingers with yours and leading you out into the night. hours later, boneless and fucked out in his arms, he shows you the three missed calls from gojo, with a single text reading:
have fun u little freaks :-) ♡
and then a second:
you’re buying me lunch tmrw btw sorry i don’t make the rules