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Hot Yoga: The Deep Stretch

Summary:

As a yoga instructor, private sessions were never really your thing anymore—until a generous offer from Nanami Kento a coach of a superstar NFL team had you reconsidering.
It was supposed to be a simple session. Stretching, breathing, alignment. But when five of the strongest, cockiest, and most ridiculously attractive men walked into your studio, things took a turn.
As you found yourself caught in a dangerous game of tension, temptation… and submission.
You came here to teach them flexibility. But by the time the session was over?
You were the one being bent to their will.

Jujutsu Kaisen Menz x Reader

-Hot Yoga Gone Wrong (Or Right?)
- Coach Nanami Knows Best

- Gojo Satoru: Menace to Society and Reader’s Throat & Ass
- Sukuna Doesn’t Know What Boundaries Are
- Toji Fushiguro Has No Business Being This Hot
- Geto Suguru Has Rizz Wothout Trying

- Nanami Kento Is Just Trying to Keep It Professional (He Fails)

- Reader Needs to Do More Yoga After This

- No Thoughts, Just Dick

- This Was Supposed to Be a Private Yoga Session, Not a Team Effort

- But As They Say A Team That Stretches Together… Well, You Know

Notes:

All rights reserved © 2025 KawaiiBlossoms. Do not copy, translate, or modify my works on any platform.

Chapter 1

Notes:

Namaste, lovelies!

Welcome to a premium, 4 course meal of filth—served hot, messy, and extra unholy. It's been a minute since I blessed y'all with a long one-shot, so I hope it hits the spot (pun absolutely intended).

I started this one-shot—long-shot—before the Super Bowl, fully intending to get it out by then... but I failed spectacularly.

Stop here and skip the hors d'oeuvre if you're ready for the main course and head to chapter two. (The story begins there.)👩‍🍳

-

If y'all have requests, drop them—I might just indulge your depravity. I love a good Side-Quest. But DO NOT, under any circumstances, ask me to write about Choso.

That man is built like a greasy gas station attendant who just lost his last brain cell huffing diesel fumes behind a dumpster. He literally looks like he bathes in sink water and air-dries by sitting on the curb outside a McDonald's to steal Wi-Fi.

Y'all try to romanticize him, but let's be real—he looks like he pays for coochie with pocket lint, a half-smoked Black & Mild, and fake Gucci bags he snatched from someone guy on the corner.

And if y'all INSIST on requesting Choso? Oh, I'll write it. But you're not getting mysterious, brooding, misunderstood Choso. Nope.

You're getting cracked-out (not coke, it's simply way out of the manz price range), half-homeless, definitely-on-a-watchlist Choso, posted up outside a 7-11, begging for change, offering half a cold-ass McNugget in exchange for a puff off a Newport and possibly selling bootleg DVDs from the early 2000.

And if I write that? Oh, it'll be nasty. Apocalyptic. Y'all aren't ready for the biblical plague of filth I'd unleash.

*Finished serving your hors d'oeuvre 🧆*

Skip the appetizer if the hors d'oeuvre were a little too much and you're ready for the main course and head to chapter two. (The story begins there.)👩‍🍳

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Now, onto Gojo's slander. *Your appetizer 🫕*

The narcissistic scammer with main character syndrome.

Listen. I was THIS close to sparing him, but then I remembered that he looks like the type to say "It's giving..." unironically.

This man smells like Dior Sauvage, heartbreak, and unpaid child support.

Y'all think Gojo's fine, and I get it. He's got the pretty privilege and the cocky charm. But let's be real—he's one bad day away from becoming a male prostitute.

You know this man doesn't do laundry. He just grabs shit out the hamper, sniffs it, sprays it with Febreze, and keeps it pushing.

You think he has a skincare routine? Nah. That's sheer genetics working overtime, because you know damn well he's washing his face with the same 3-in-1 body wash he uses for his hair, ass, and balls.

His diet? Strictly Red Bull, convenience store sushi, and the audacity to hit up any woman expecting a home-cooked plate.

Do NOT let this man lie to you. He would absolutely hit you with "Damn, that's crazy" mid-argument, gaslighting you and then change the subject to himself.

You think he's romantic? You think he dates women? He'd date you?

Ma'am, honey, sugar. Come closer.

No.

This man is in a committed relationship with his own reflection. I bet he stares at himself in the mirror for so long that his own reflection gets tired of his shit.

If Gojo had a choice between saving you from a burning building or saving his sunglasses, you're getting left for dead, bestie.

And just in case you survive? He's posting an "RIP, gone too soon 😔" IG story with your best selfie before you even make it to the ER.

And once he realized you made it out unscathed.

I just KNOW this man be squinting at himself, licking his lips, and rubbing his chin like he's in a 90s R&B music video... plottin... thinking about how to get with you while he's still laid up in another woman's bed.

He'll comment 'gorgeous 🥰' on your post, but THEN have the audacity to say 'But like...your foundation a little off tho 👀 just lookin' out for you'—like Sir, was that necessary? Just say I look good and go.

And don't even get me started on his financial decisions. He's the kind of man to own multiple luxury watches but still Zelle request you for $2.79 because you added an extra drink to the bill while he was in the restroom on a date.

He calls himself "Daddy" but has never been on time for a single commitment in his life.

And yet, somehow, he can still fuck.

But let's be clear—it's not because he's skilled. It's because he has the stamina of a hyperactive golden retriever and is too competitive to accept anything less than you sobbing and tapping out.

Sex with Gojo is a high-intensity cardio session. No breaks, no mercy. You're screaming into the mattress and he's grinning like he won a championship.

And if you try to catch your breath? He's smirking down at you, "Aww, you tired already? I thought you said you could handle me?"

He gets you to cum like six times out of sheer spite.

You're trembling, half-dead, legs useless, and he's standing over you, sipping Gatorade, flexing his abs in the mirror.

And the worst part? The dick is so good you still let him stay over.

Why? Girl you tell me? 🤨📸

Gojo would clown you all night, raw dog you into the fifth dimension, rearrange your guts with no instructions, and then the moment he sees you texting someone else—suddenly he's in his feelings.

He's hovering over your shoulder like, "Who's that? 😐"

He's side-eyeing your phone like, "Oh, so you just be entertaining everybody, huh? 🤨"

He's laying in your bed, butt ass naked ,sweaty, looking like he just won something, but now he's on his side, fiddling with the hem of the blanket, hitting you with that soft ass, "Sooooo... what are we?" 👀

Sir. YOU JUST HAD ME SPEAKING IN TONGUES AND NOW YOU WANNA BE SHY?! 😭

He just gave you the best dick of your life, had you limp and re-evaluating your life choices, but now he's laying there with his little pretty ass eyelashes fluttering, pouting like a child, waiting for validation.

You say, "Uhhh we chillin?" and now he's deep sighing, rolling onto his back, staring at the ceiling like he's in a dramatic movie scene.

Then the next day, he posting himself lip-syncing 'Doing It Wrong' by Drake.

Like boy, if you don't—! 😭

Look...I'm sorry, but this man would be pacing in his penthouse at 2 AM, blasting Bryson Tiller, waiting for YOU to text first. Just EXTRA Light Skin, standing there, shirtless, arms crossed, staring out the window while it's raining overthinking...

He got every sad boy song on repeat, texting Nanami, “Bro... I think I love her.”

You KNOW Nanami left him on read or hit him with a "...Gojo, go to sleep."

Meanwhile, you’re sleeping peacefully, and this man is wide awake, staring at the ceiling, hand on his chest like he’s at his own funeral.

Then next week, he's talking about 'high-value men' and 'feminine energy' on his new Red Pill podcast. Talking about how these modern women don’t deserve him.

I could drag him all day, but I won't lie on his dick. And the only reason this manz makes it into my fanfics is because he actually keeps his ass clean... and possibly waxed.

Notes:

Ok, ummm... I think I'm done 🤭... maybe. Blame the peach Celsius and coffee. And just a little crackhead energy, that’s all. I’ve been having a solid month so far.

Anyways, your reservation is confirmed. I hope your palate is ready for the main course—because ya girl has been cooking up something spicy. 🌶️😈