#1 Satoru & Takuma simp

you couldn’t even form a coherent response as his tongue circled your clit, his constant hums and words buzzing through your core. “god, you taste so fucking good,” he groaned again, his lips pressed against your swollen nub, sending another wave of heat through you.

“taku — please—” you gasped, your fingers gripping his hair, but he just laughed softly, clearly enjoying the way you reacted to him.

“please what, baby?” he teased, his fingers digging into your hips to keep you still. “you want me to shut up, huh? want me to stop talking and just focus on this sweet little pussy?” he chuckled again, his breath hot against you as his lips brushed over your folds. “sorry, babe. can’t help it. i mean, look at you.”

he pressed his mouth to your clit again, sucking gently, and you let out a choked moan, your back arching off the bed. “you’re so pretty like this,” he murmured, his voice rumbling against you. “so wet, so ready for me. i could talk to you like this all day, ya know? just tell you how fuckin’ good you are, how perfect you taste.”

his words were sending you spiraling, every sentence punctuated with another flick of his tongue, and you could feel the heat building in your core. your hips bucked against his mouth, but he just grinned against you, his fingers tightening their grip on your thighs to hold you down.

“oh, you’re close, aren’t you?” he teased, his breath tickling your sensitive skin. “can feel ya, baby. you’re trembling. ya gonna cum for me, aren’t you?” his lips brushed your clit again, and the way he kept talking, the way his voice thrummed against you, was making your head spin. you gasped, your body trembling as he hummed in response, the vibrations making your legs shake.

“yeah, that’s it, babe,” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “just give it to me. fuck, i could stay here forever, ya know? just keep talkin’ to you, keep eating you out, keep making you cum on my tongue.”

you were on the verge of losing it, your body so close to the edge, and every word, every hum, every flick of his tongue was pushing you further and further until —

“c’mon, baby, cum for me,” he murmured, his voice sending one last vibration through your core. “wanna feel it. wanna hear you scream f’me.”

and just like that, you shattered, your body arching off the bed as you cried out, your fingers tangling in his hair as you rode out your orgasm against his eager mouth. your mind went blank, nothing but the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you as he continued to hum and mutter against your slick folds.

even as you came down, your legs still trembling, ino didn’t stop. he pressed soft kisses to your sensitive skin, his lips brushing over your thighs as he kept talking. “see? told you i’d take care of you,” he mumbled, grinning up at you from between your legs. “you love it when i talk to you, don’t you? you can’t get enough.”

you let out a breathless laugh, still reeling from the intensity of it all. “you never stop talking, do you?” you managed to say, your voice shaky.

he just chuckled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “nope. and you love it.”

You’re not sure when exactly the world stopped moving.

Maybe it was when you got the news. Maybe it was when you buried what was left of him. Maybe it was the moment you split up that night: him going to find Yuji, you staying behind to finish evacuations. You can’t tell exactly when it happened. You only know that it did.

The world doesn’t turn anymore. It can’t. Not without your brother—your Kento.

There was no body to mourn, but you bought a grave anyway. A quiet corner of the cemetery, away from the others. A headstone, simple and clean. It reads: Kento Nanami — beloved brother and mentor. Very to the point. Just like he was.

You kept everything he owned. His blade. His watch. His tie—you wore it every day. Even the stupid mug he left at your apartment the morning everything happened sat exactly where he’d left it, untouched.

For months, you folded inward. Missions became your only contact with the outside world, and you took more of them than usual. They kept the money in and your thoughts out. Work felt normal. For a few hours at a time, you could pretend your brother wasn’t dead.

That’s how you find yourself in mid-January, waiting outside Jujutsu Tech in a blue button-up and khakis, (an outfit you bought once to mock him, now worn for comfort.) Kento’s tie is secured neatly at your throat.

You’re so lost in thought that you don’t notice the car until it pulls up in front of you. A polite honk startles you, and you climb into the backseat without a word.

Everything in your life has gone quiet. Quiet mornings. Quiet dinners alone. Quiet crying when you find another book he left behind. Sitting in silence beside a stranger feels normal now.

You try not to look at the man next to you. You fail.

He’s staring at you, wide-eyed, jaw slacked open. You focus on the sway of the car instead, until—

“Where did you get that?”

His voice is hoarse, dragged up from somewhere deep. You recognize the weight in it immediately. When you look over, you realize he isn’t staring at you at all. His eyes are fixed on your tie, like he’s seeing a ghost.

“It…” Your chest tightens. “It belongs—belonged to my brother.”

You’re not sure you’ll ever get used to that. The ‘was’ instead of ‘is’.

The words come out rough, but he hears them. You can tell by the way his eyebrows lift, his breath hitching. Maybe he speaks fluent mourning.

“You… Nanami-san was your brother?”

Disbelief colors every syllable.

You nod. “You must be Kento’s partner. Ino.”

He nods back, still staring, like he hopes you’ll turn into your brother right there in the seat beside him.

Kento wasn’t fond of many coworkers. You remember the names he cared about.

“He spoke highly of you.”

An unsaid ‘he loved you’, wrapped in polite neutrality.

Silence settles in—thick, heavy, but shared. You both hold unshed tears: the way his shoulders tense as he controls his breathing, the way you stare at the car floor instead of the window. Talking about your brother always draws the bitter kind of grief. Still, there’s comfort in not being alone with it.

The mission goes quickly. You work well together. Your techniques align easily, efficiently. You understand, now, why your brother liked him so much.

On the drive back, Ino won’t look at you. Grief, you think. You decide to say something before you lose the nerve.

“There’s a grave for him,” you offer quietly. “I haven’t told anyone. He liked his privacy, but… I go weekly. Sometimes twice. If you want to come. Tomorrow.”

You nearly regret it before he answers.

“Tomorrow… okay.”

His hands tremble. You nod. That’s enough.

The next day, you meet at a park. You greet him with a nod and lead the way. You stop for flowers, as you always do- but this time, Ino pays before you can stop him.

“Nanami-san would be disappointed if I didn’t,” he says.

You let it stand.

You learn his name is Takuma. That he knew Kento for years before Shibuya.

“For the first two years,” he admits, “I thought he hated me.”

“For the first fifteen of my life,” you say, “I’m pretty sure he did.”

He laughs; soft, fragile. You smile without realizing it, struck by how right it feels in your chest.

The closer you get to the grave, the quieter you become. You kneel, replace the flowers, clear away the withered ones. You talk to the stone like it might answer. About your week. About the mug you still can’t move. About the man you brought with you. Someone he loved.

You step aside.

Takuma crouches slowly, touching the stone with shaking fingers. You don’t hear his words, only the way they break apart. When his knees give out, you’re beside him before you think. A hand to his back. Steady circles. He flinches, then leans into it.

You stay until the sun dips low.

He’s unsteady when he stands, so you hook your arm through his. I’m here, it says. You can break.

Back at the park, he stops you gently.

“I’ll see you next week?”

Permission, wrapped in hope.

“I’ll see you next week, Takuma.”

And youu do.

Weeks turn into months. Grief softens (less drowning, more swimming.) Dinners follow visits. Laughter returns. Love arrives quietly.

One night, reading an old book your brother left behind, you realize maybe he’d just be glad his two favorite people found each other.

When you tell Takuma what he means to you, he smiles. The sadness still there, but gentler now.

“I’d probably be a full hermit without you,” he says. “Studying necromancy or something.”

You laugh.

At the grave the next week, you introduce each other as my partner and think it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever done.

Years pass. Side by side becomes hand in hand. Love deepens.

You’re not sure when the world starts turning again. Maybe it’s the day you marry him. Maybe it’s the day you welcome your son, Kento Ino, into the world. Maybe it never stopped at all, just nudged you quietly where you needed to be.

You don’t know how.

You only know that it turns.

With your husband beside you,

and Kento’s legacy learning to walk.

———————————————————————————

riding virgin!takuma ino and he’s trying soooo hard to hold back but he ends up cumming in the first 3 minutes

you’re sitting on his pelvis, his twitching dick still balls deep inside you, and his breathing heavily, hands shaking on your waist repeating, “i’m sorry, shit, sorry just… just give me a second and i can go again. felt so good. sorry.”

but instead of waiting and letting him recover, u lift up and slowly slide back down, testing him. he hisses sharply through his teeth, his face scrunching. “i’m so sensitive right now just—“ you cut him off by doing it again, a little faster this time.

his jaws drops open.

again, u lift up and sit back down, fucking yourself on his cock that’s still hard despite him recovering. this time when u lift up and slide back down, a whimper leaves his throat. “baby. baby, w-wait a second— shit. o-oh my god it’s so—“

you take his hands that are shaking against your waist and lean forward, pinning his wrists to the mattress.

“h-hey what are you doing?” his eyes are so wide, face flushed, teeth chattering from the slightest taste of overstimulation

so you stop holding back. you pick up a pass that’s fast and hard, merciless, and his response is immediate. he’s thrashing on the mattress, head lashing in every direction, fingers opening and closing into fists. whimpers are pouring from his lips one after the other, and his legs are shaking soooooooo hard.

“b-aby oh god, oh god,” he tips his head back and grits his teeth together, fighting through the overstimulation because although it hurts it also feels so fucking good. “so much,” he cries. “it’s so much.”

tears are welling in his eyes but when you lean down to press a kiss to his overheated cheeks and whisper, “you’re my good boy, takuma, you can take it cos’ you wanna make me cum, huh?”

he goes absolutely blind with love. he doesn’t care that it hurts, not even a little bit. his entire body is flushed with your words, giving him the strength to get past it. he nods eagerly, never straying from your eyes as you keep riding him. “yeah. yeah, i can take it, baby. i’m your good boy,” he moans, eyes falling to your lips. “w-wanna feel you cum around me. i can t-take it for you.”