PU$$Y FAIRY! — NANAMI KENTO
SYNOPSIS...the last thing you expected to happen after having sex with your co worker, nanami, was for him to become obsessed with your pussy
INFO...nanami x fem!reader, p in v, oral (f!receiving), semi public sex (?), nanami is a fiend for you, jerking off, dirty thoughts, missionary, breeding, not proofread
OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated
Nanami is usually a very tame and calm man, he knows how to keep his composure and doesn’t lose himself under pressure. That’s how others would describe him and that’s how he would describe himself, but just one feel and taste of your cunt changed everything in an instant. Each time he closes his eyes to sleep all he could envision is your cunt wrapped around him, squeezing him, milking him. Each time you pass by him in the office, he can’t help but remember the taste of you on his tongue, slurping up your juices and drinking them, eating you up like a starved man.
Ever since that night, he can’t stop thinking about you, his hand wrapped around his cock, imagining it was you fucking him, watching the way you cream around his cock. He cums so much each time, the sticky substance making a mess on his chest and hands, wishing he was filling up your hole, breeding your cunt and making you his. He’s never been so hot and bothered before, something about you just drives him crazy. He can’t stand another second of you ignoring him, acting like he didn’t have you screaming his name and clawing at his back while you came over and over again.
“Please, just let me taste her,” he begs. He’s on his knees in front of you, your legs spread as you sit on his desk, your tights ripped open and panties pushed to the side. Just your scent has him spiraling, salivating. Your fingers run through his blonde locks, gently pulling at them as guide his face closer and closer towards what he wants most. “Yes, please,” he mutters. His tongue darts out once he gets close enough, dipping between your wet folds, and now he’s completely lost in his head.
He shoves his face between your thighs, catching you off guard as his tongue dips into your sopping hole. His dick strains against the fabric of his slacks, tip leaking pre cum as he tastes you on his tongue. His eyes flutter shut, tongue swirling against your sensitive clit. He’s so eager, so greedy, pulling you back on his face each time you pull away from the overwhelming pleasure. “Fuck,” he moans, taking second to breathe. “Fuck, baby, you taste so good,” he pants.
He looks at you from his position, in love with the way your mouth hangs open and your moans spill from within. He doesn’t care if it gets messy, you rough up his hair. He’s been waiting weeks to have you at his mercy again. In minutes he has you cumming on his tongue, your thighs squeezing around his head as a string of curses fall from your lips. He pulls away and lands a feverish kiss upon your lips, cutting your moans short while your hands find their way to his belt, undoing it along with his pants.
Next thing you know, your legs are wrapped around his waist, skirt bunched up as he pounds into you. “You feel so fucking good, oh god,” he grunts, looking down at where the two of you meet, a white ring forming at the base of his cock. Your pussy was so warm and wet, so addictive. It was hard to keep himself from folding you in half and fucking you until you couldn’t walk.
Your pussy clenches around him, sucking him back in each time he threatened to pull out. He reaches a hand down, his thumb rubbing your clit in circles. Your eyes roll back, mind foggy with pleasure. “Yes! Yes! I’m so close!” You cry out, sucking in a breath as your brows furrow. He keeps the same pace, knocking into your g-spot over and over until your legs start to shake. “Oh my god!” Your eyes clench shut. You come undone around him, Nanami holding you close to him as he fucks you through your orgasm.
“That’s it baby. Doing such a good fucking job for me,” he whispers in your ear. He feels your walls spasm around his dick, only adding onto his pleasure. He starts thinking back to all those nights he fantasized about cumming inside of you, all those lewd thought of filling you up and breeding you. He feels so dirty thinking about, but at the same time he doesn’t care. He wants nothing more than to see his cum oozing out of you. “Gonna let me cum in this pussy, huh?” His thrusts grow sloppier, teetering on the edge. He couldn’t wait any longer, letting his thoughts get the best of him as he pushes his hips against yours, hot spurts of sticky cum coating your walls.
You gasp at the sensation, caught by surprise but still so turned on. “Oh shit, baby,” he shudders. “Ah���fuck.” He thrusts into you once more before slowly pulling out. You spread your legs for him, feeling his cum leak out of your hole. “This pussy is always so good to me.” He pushes the cum back in with his thumb, making sure not to waste a drop. He grabs your chin, messily kissing you, tongue sliding against yours. Nanami hopes you know this won’t be the last time he’s cumming in you again.
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ᡣ 𐭩 blurb: finals week has put you through the wringer but luckily your handsome, wonderful, caring boyfriend has a special treat for you.
wc: 1k
ᡣ 𐭩 tags: fluffy fluff, sfw, older bf!nanami kento x fem!reader, established relationship, age gap (reader: early twenties, nanami: late twenties), reader’s in college, feminine pet names, teeny angst, one kiss, self-indulgent cause i wanna be loved like this
"keep those eyes closed hun," kento's honeyed voice hits your eardrums as his large hand envelopes yours. he guides you to. . .god knows where, all you know is that you're outside. the soft, calming breeze flows through your hair gently blowing your flowy pink spring dress behind you.
his eyes scan your beautiful ensemble and he thanks whatever deity that's in the sky that you happened to walk into his life one friday afternoon. "are we there yet ken?" you inquire excitedly as you tighten your grip on his hand. he smiles at your excitement "almost," as he tries to stifle a chuckle at your cuteness.
his free hand goes the the small of your back moving you in front of him as you both walk to this destination he spoke of earlier. his expensive cologne invades your nostrils and your body immediately relaxes at the close proximity. "can you at least tell me where we're going?" trying to coax it out of him. "then it wouldn't be a surprise now would it?"
a pretty pout graces your glossed lips as you turn your head to scrunch your already closed eyes at him in a glare. "over here pretty girl," kento teases noticing you turned your head in the wrong direction. you follow the sound of his voice and turn your head in the correct direction of his face, adorable pout still adorning your lips.
"don't pout baby, i promise you'll love it," he chuckles as he presses a quick kiss to your temple. your pout is replaced by a small smile that effectively melts kento's heart into a puddle of goo. you let him lead you to this mystery he's set up. the walk is silent as you take in the sounds of nature. the rustling of the grass as the light air rakes through it, the birds chirping along with the trickle of water in the distance.
you haven't felt this calm in months. college has been a thorn in your side for a while and now that you took all your finals, you're agonizing over your final grades, wanting nothing more than to pass. kento knows this. he's seen how hard you've worked. hours of studying, late nights, and those stressed tears that broke his heart with each stream down your cheeks.
he'd catch each escaped drop with the pads of his thumbs as you were nestled in his lap in a comforting hold. in his arms, you knew nothing would harm you, especially sunday 11:59 pm due dates. and when you submitted your last final exam yesterday, he knew he had to do something big for his special girl. his only girl.
"okay, stop," he utters and your feet come to a halt. you feel the sun kissing your skin as you stand next to kento waiting with nervous-excited butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "open your eyes, baby," he whispers. his candied voice filling your senses increasing the jittery feeling in your gut.
you open your eyes, pupils adjusting to the sunlight and what you see takes your breath away.
a picnic. a beautiful picnic assembled on a vast green field beside multiple tall apple trees. a white plaid picnic blanket is laid flat with various foods. gourmet sandwiches arranged scrumptiously on a sliver oval platter, a full charcuterie board that includes various deli meats, crackers, cheeses, and fruits, a bottle of wine alongside two long-stem wine glasses, and a circle-shaped frosted cake with 'you did it pretty girl!' written in red icing.
not to mention the big bouquet of flowers that lay next to the picnic basket. your favorite flowers at that.
"kento," you mutter softly in disbelief. he really knows how to take your breath away. warmth spreads through your cells, filling you with affection for your lover. no matter how many times he surprises you, no matter how many times he shows you how much he loves you, it never fails to make you tear up.
he pulls you smoothly into his embrace, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. you bury your face into the crook of his neck. "wha—when did—," "last week," cutting you off. "i know college has been putting you through so much hun, i jus' wanted to treat you for working so hard, my smart girl," he coos the last part softly then proceeds to pepper kisses all over your head. like he's kissing your overworked brain.
that feeling of love and safety spreads through your veins like molasses. you savor the feeling. "i don't deserve you ken," you mumble quietly hoping he doesn't hear the insecure tilt in your tone. oh, but he did. his hands trace the curve of your waist sliding up until they reach your cheeks. he cups them in his calloused palms, thumbs stroking the apples of them.
"nonsense sweetheart. not only do you deserve me, but you deserve the world. and i'm going to give it to you, from now until my last breath." loving but determined. nanami kento in a nutshell. and that makes any remnants of insecurity vacate your mind. to prove his point, kento leans in and presses his soft lips against your glossy plump ones in a tender kiss.
not one of lust, not one of eroticism, one of affection. a kiss that says 'you are my love, my heart, my soul, my everything.'
he pulls back, interlocks your fingers in his, and guides you to the picnic blanket. you move to sit down, but not before he places a pillow below you so you don't have to sit on the hard ground. a gentleman through and through. "c'mon hun, can't let this food go to waste, can we?" as he sits on a pillow next to you.
"not with our appetites," you chuckle as you grab a cracker off the charcuterie board and poke a toothpick into a slice of ham. kento laughs with you as he gazes at you fondly. he believes this is where he's meant to be. on a blanket, with you, eating and drinking as the horizon turns orange in front of you both.
and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
2024 © thebimbopalace — please DO NOT copy, change, or repost my works on any other platform. All rights reserved to @ thebimbopalace
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Nighttime Care // Nanami Kento x gn!reader
word count: 5.5k (ops)
cw: fluff, gender neutral!reader, established couple, petnames (sweetheart, sweetie, honey, darling, dear) not proofread (when is it?)
summary: work, work, and more work, it just seems like nanami can't catch a break from all this overtime. its exhausting, and you can see that and decide to give a helping hand.
notes: time to pass all the silly scenarios I've thought off instead of the outlines for the other fics i have on my drafts ❤
liked this? show it with a like, reblog, and/or comment. each is greatly appreciated and celebrated!
Tired.
Tired, tired, tired.
While it was a significantly better change when he quit his job as a salaryman and returned to his life as a sorcerer, Nanami hated how overtime seemed to follow him. But he hated how overtime not only meant coming home late and all tired. Now it meant coming late to you and being robbed of his time with his sweetheart.
It was way past midnight by the time he got through the front door, huffing almost too loudly as he kicked his shoes off and stepped into the quiet of your house.
No show playing on the TV with you on the couch all curled up waiting for him.
No smells coming from the kitchen with your back facing him as you hum to yourself with your attention on making tonight's dinner.
No running up to him to wrap your arms around him and pepper his face with your lips as you welcomed him home in a muffle.
No you to brighten such a shift at work.
Maybe it was better this way. It was late and you had work tomorrow, you had every right to be asleep right now. The slight disappointment from no sign of you awake quickly turns towards himself. How could he be selfish enough to expect you to wait for him at this hour? He had insisted that you should not wait for him so late, you had your own stuff outside of your relationship together and he rather that you would at least rest easy. Besides, you couldn't see him like this—dark eye bags, a deep frown, and barely standing. Nanami always wanted to be presentable before you, you deserved to see him at his best, not...not like this.
Yet, his heavy steps betrayed him. Despite his best attempts to keep you asleep, your light sleep triggered and caused you to groan awake. You turn on the bed, trying to find the source of the sound that interrupted your sleep only to see the bedroom door open as Nanami slipped between spaces. Silent mutters help you recognize Nanami's voice, your mind finally catching up to what your senses were telling you. With a squint of your eyes, you look at Nanami with your lips curling downwards. His voice sounded tired, his steps were dragging across the floor, and he simply seemed overworked to no surprise. Overtime simply wasn't anyone's choice of spending the night.
"Kento?" You called out in a groan, still feeling a bit drowsy from your interrupted sleep.
Your tired voice makes him sigh, giving him another reason to feel upset after a long shift. Not at you though, he didn't want to wake you up and he tried really hard to let you rest. With a heavy sigh, his shoulder slouched slightly as he turned to look at you, making his way to sit on the edge of the bed right in front of where you were laying down.
"Sorry, sweetie. Didn't want to wake you up." Nanami whispers, a tinge of jealousy in his voice. Seeing how cozy you looked on the bed made him want to be in your place and be able to rest as easily as you, he needed to lay down next to you and sleep. But he couldn't just yet. "I'm home..." He adds, a hand coming up his face to remove his goggles and holding him in a fist.
"Don't worry about that," You assured him, feeling the bed shift as he sat on the edge of it.
With a yawn, you sit up to try and wake yourself up now that he is back. Despite still being zoned out from sleep, it didn't take much to notice just how exhausted he was. It was a sad sight to your eyes, even sadder knowing that this wasn't new at all.
You wrap your arms around Nanami and pull him down to the bed right on top of you, feeling how he slightly jumped at this. Though he was surprised at the action, he felt himself relax when his head met your chest, realizing a groan out of how nice your body felt after such a long day.
"Welcome home, honey." You whispered, your hand rubbing circles on his back.
"S'tired, soo tired." He mumbled against you, using his hand to rub his eyes as if that would get rid of his fatigue.
However, it was hard considering how he felt like he might drift off at any moment. He couldn't fall asleep. Even if he was struggling to stay awake, he didn't want to sleep just yet when he was still in his work clothes.
It was awful how much this happened and every time you would react the same. How could you keep your lips from frowning when Nanami looked and sounded this tired? When his body practically flopped against yours so easily? Nanami was a hardworking person and you admired that. What you did not admire was how much he pulled over time despite hating it with his entire being, constantly doing it over and over again. But this time it looked like work was harsh on him. Sure, he had no injuries or anything like that. Regardless, it was later than the usual time he came back from overtime and he looked much weary than usual.
You sighed, wishing you could do more than just comfort him. For the time being, all you could do was offer soft caresses over his back. "I know, honey," you whispered.
His head peaks out of your chest, meeting your soft frown at him. Your concerned eyes, your hand on his back, your quiet whispers...you were worried for him, that much was obvious with how gentle you were rather than telling him off for coming home late yet again.
"Sorry. I had to work overtime to-" A yawn cuts him off, his hand muffling his lips while his mind tries to coax him into falling asleep by focusing on how he could rest just like this. Yet, he didn't want to seem rude by simply greeting you and falling asleep on you. You deserved more than just a tired man-
"Why are you apologizing?" You asked softly, cutting his line of thought before you even knew what he was thinking.
In your mind, you saw no reason for him to apologize. Work was work, he was providing just as much (definitely more) than you were and it was normal. What wasn't was how frequently his work would cut not only into their time together but also into his time to rest and relax. You could never hold something like this against him knowing that it wasn't his choice to stay longer at work. Stress, fatigue, soreness in his eyes alone, dark and sunken from how much this has happened as of late.
No. He had no reason to apologize.
But Nanami didn't see it that way. You deserved more than this...not eating alone or going to sleep alone. He wanted and needed to give you some time with him, he didn't want to be this exhausted, barely functioning person to you. Even if you didn't understand why he was apologizing, he still needed to apologize.
"I'm sorry for-"
Your hand took his hand, interrupting him as you wrapped your hand around his and sat up on the bed. With a sigh, you take his goggles from his hand and place them on the nightstand.
"Stop it. You have nothing to apologize for, got it?" You said gently, wanting to be as soft-spoken as you could to not disturb him, let alone let him think that you were angry at him. Why would you get angry over this? It wasn't his fault and you knew that tonight would be different had he had a say in whether he was going to pull overtime tonight.
Helping him sit up again, your hands slip underneath his blazer on his shoulders, rubbing down his arms to help him take it off and setting it on the other side of the bed. As the fabric left his arms, Nanami rested his head against your shoulder with a small groan, placing a hand on your arm to stop you. Sure, it felt nice to have you touch him like this, but he didn't feel like he deserved it. He left you alone for the evening and came home late. How could he let you do more for him than he deserved? His eyes might barely be open and he might be very, very tired, but he couldn't make you feel obligated to help him.
"Darling," he mumbled, sounding unconvincing of pushing your help away, "you don't need to. I..." He sighs, feeling that slight burn in his eyes with a blink, "...I don't want you to see me like this."
He felt very worn-out, slower than usual as if gravity weighed twice as much tonight. Even so, he didn't want you to think you had to help him. He didn't like this side of him where you couldn't lean on him, it made him feel like a burden to you when he had already interrupted your sleep.
But he was met with your head leaning against his, trying to comfort him further as you saw him frown.
If there was something everyone agreed about Nanami it's that he is a selfless person. Someone always wanting to help others, protect them, put them before himself. It was actually one of the many sides that made you fall for him. So it was easy to understand why he was so self-conscious at that moment. It was a juxtaposition of the man he usually is: capable, sufficient, and reliable. Qualities that his fatigue was preventing him from being, but that didn't mean he had to be ashamed of it.
"I wanna help you though."
"You're already doing more than enough by welcoming me home. You should be telling me off for coming so late, not comforting me like this." He explained, his eyelids heavy from the way your warm cheeks touched his temple.
You shook your head, hands coming to his neck and tracing over his tie for her fingers to quickly undo it.
"I've told you already, you have nothing to feel bad for and I have nothing to be angry about." You pulled on his tie, wrapping it around your hand until it was rolled up and then placing it close to his blazer on the bed. "You're tired and overworked. I can't let you do things on your own when I can help you, especially when I want to help my love."
Nanami lifts his head out of your shoulder, trying to straighten up in his seat as you stripped him of the many layers that weighed him down. As much as he tried to make it seem otherwise, you were right—he was tired and overworked, far more than what he could handle. With you so set on helping him, the least he could do was stop his nagging and let you help. It was a bit embarrassing that work has rendered him this weak, not from some kind of injuries but simply because of how body felt ready to shut down at any moment.
Here he was—a grown man of his age acting like a helpless child. He would've protested again had it not been for how devoted towards helping him, towards him. You might be doing what any caring spouse would do, but to him it felt like giving him a small break he didn't deserve.
His lips still find it in them to curl in the slightest as he says tiredly, "thank you, love."
"Happy to help," you answered.
And there it was, that beautiful smile that melted away your frown once he gave in to your aid.
It was silent for a few moments in the room except from the click-click sound after you unclasped his suspenders from his trousers, setting them on the side. There was little to no light, only the nightstand lamp and whatever else managed to slip in from the window, with him tired and you undressing him as your hands slid to his shirt.
Careful to not startle him, your fingers undo his buttons and reveal more and more of his skin with each. Once they were all undone, you slipped your hands underneath his shirt, feeling a few bumps in the way that made you pinch your brows together confused. It wasn't until you started to slide the shirt off his arms that the bumps made sense—they were actually dents that ran front to back on his torso. Though they didn't seem serious, it makes your lips pout.
"I didn't know you had these."
Nanami's eyes look away from you and down to his own chest where your eyes focused on. In all honesty, he rarely acknowledged these—they were just marks left by his suspenders, a small price to pay from his daily attire. Sure, they were tight enough, restrictive enough to leave a mark on his body, but he didn't see any reason to mention them.
"It's nothing, love. They don't hurt at all."
Despite his assurance, your eyes seemed glued to his body. They were just a result of constantly wearing suspenders to a pretty physical job, no pain would come from them. Yet, seeing these marks meant more than just that. It was about the amount of time for these marks to set in the first place, making you realize just how long and much his workday was. Hours that, if they left this kind of mark in his body, were enough to lead to this exhaustion you could see in him.
That's when your fingers begin to think on their own. Your hand comes back up to his shoulder, but rather than resting your palm over it, your fingers graze over the marks and delicately follow down the path on his chest.
As your mind lets your hands do as you wish, Nanami could feel how worried you were from your touch alone. It was gentle but it had that hint of caution, as if too much pressure would make it uncomfortable for him. It made him feel vulnerable. He could see your mind running with all these thoughts from his marks alone. You knew he hated overtime, you knew he was stubborn to work despite his better judgment, and you both knew he needed to rest.
These marks reminded him how much he worked on a day alone.
These marks showed you how hard he worked alone for the two of you.
Underneath your fingertips, Nanami allowed himself to savor your touch further by closing his eyes for a second, unable to prevent the sigh that escapes his lips that makes you snap from your trance and look up at him. Though you knew it was best to hurry up and help him get ready for bed, something within her sparked at his marks. Your free hand decides to follow the other’s steps and comes up to the other side of Nanami’s body, roaming gently down the marks his suspenders have left behind. Soft, delicate, and gentle touches, but most importantly, loving touches.
Nanami stays still, letting you graze all over his body as he swallows down his self-conscious thoughts. It tickled a little to have your hands go so slow and so lightly over his skin, making his muscles tense underneath them. Despite that, he didn’t want your hands to stop, so he doesn't make any effort to as his eyes follow how your hands move down his body and earn a ghost of a moan from him. He couldn’t help himself when his exhaustion made it hard to think much, but you were just being so patient and caring and loving and…and so many other things that made him thank whatever deity that allowed him to be with you, that allowed him to have you as his everything.
Your hands come to a halt at his moan, your heart picking up a pace. At first, you worried the touch was actually hurting or unsettling to him when his body tensed, interpreting his moan as a groan. But when you looked up and saw how his eyes were glued on you and your hands moving across his body as if he wanted to take it all in rather than push you away, you let your hands rest on him and slide back up to his shoulders. You got a little carried away and you didn’t want to tire him any more.
“You do so much for us…for me.” You start with a whisper, “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Kento.”
And see, hearing you say that makes absolute nonsense to him. It catches him off guard.
Your eyes meet, him shaking off his exhaustion for a second to open his a bit more, to actually be able to look at you. Despite how your hands and eyes roam up and down his body, Nanami feels no lust or desire under your touch. It was careful, sweet, just as he has come to expect from you whenever you caught him in this state.
This was just his spouse’s stare, you were his spouse. It wasn’t a matter of whether or not you deserved it (you did, that’s simply out of the question). He wanted to do all this, whatever he could for you. He would sacrifice so much just so you wouldn’t have to worry or work hard. As he stares back at you, eyes looking up and down at his beautiful darling before him, he smiled softly. Though your words made no sense to him, they were a reminder of how thankful he was that you worried, that you were thankful for him like he was for you. A reminder of how much he loved you and hoped that, though he didn’t say it out loud enough, you would still know that without a doubt in between the lines…
“You deserved it.” He answers back.
You chuckled. Of course he would think that and smile like this was nothing. Yet, there was something about his smile. You hated how tired it looked, how tired he looked. But when he smiled right now, softly telling her one thing to mean another…You shook your head, shifting your hands on his bare shoulders to rub circles over his skin and soothe whatever tension you could feel there.
“You’re the one working to the point of exhaustion while I fall asleep before you come home. You do much more for me than I do for you.”
“You do a lot for me,” Nanami started, his brows pinching slightly when you kept discrediting yourself, “you work around the house, keep the place nice…you’re taking care of me even right now after I woke you up. You do plenty for me. This is not up for debate.” He chuckles, not even letting you argue about how little you did for him because that wasn’t the case.
Your gaze softness as your hands come up to his jaw before running your fingers down to his chin. Even through that tension and obvious lack of energy, he still found it in him to appreciate her, to be adamant about her contributions and have her see them. Silently, your eyes flash that gratitude of him to him, admiring each feature on his face.
It was a soft touch, the kind of touch that makes you wonder if it was skin to skin or a feather to skin. It was a quiet but loud way of letting him know how much you appreciate him back. The kind of love and fondness that he needed after another shift.
“I’ll always see it that way, you know?” Nanami adds, “It’s for us, so we can be comfortable. But most of all, so I can spoil you like you deserve it.”
You smile at him, unable to keep it in yourself to kiss him so you do. You lean in to press a quick and soft peck on his lips, taking a step further to remind him of how much he meant to you. You lean back, careful to not over do your kiss when he is this tired. But rest assured, that a small kiss such as that one was enough for Nanami to feel the weight of it, making him feel loved.
“Let’s get you off of these, yeah?” You whispered, your hands sliding off the marks from his suspenders, though you made a mental note to show them some extra love when he was much more in the mood.
You kissed his cheek and readjusted how you were sitting on the bed, going back to the reality that it was quite late, he was exhausted, and you both could use the rest. Shaking off those thoughts, you were set back on your original mission to help him get ready for bed. Your hands go down to his belt, carefully undoing it and pulling it off the loops of his trousers.
But it proved to be much harder to shake off those thoughts from earlier when his body was on display like this, especially as you helped him slide off said trousers after putting his belt aside with the rest of his garments. It wasn’t just the suspenders’ marks, but also his muscles coupled with the feeling of his skin and hair against her hands that made Nanami shake his head with a chuckle as he called out your name.
“You’re doing it again, love.” He wasn’t oblivious to the effect he was having on you, how he was getting you going, as he softly mumbled your name softly.
“Doing what?” You asked with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, trying to play innocent. After all, it was merely a split second you were staring, right?
“Staring at me.” Nanami smiled wider, leaning forward now that this reaction from you gave him a small boost of energy, all just to tease you. “Are you admiring your husband, dear?”
You knew he was just teasing, especially when he was pulling such a pet name by the end of it and leaned forward towards you. You weren’t blind either, apparently you weren’t the only one enjoying a show with your spouse as the star of it, not when his eyes followed your hand and slowly drifted to other parts of you.
“If I was, I’m sure I wasn’t the only one, am I?” You teased right back, looking at him with that smirk still on your face without moving an inch away from him and in fact, deciding to double it down by resting a hand on his thighs.
“A man can’t love the person he married anymore?” Nanami chuckled, silently taking everything in. Your body, your face, your voice…nothing from you was not appealing, you were truly perfect in his eyes.
His answer makes you laugh. You took a small breath, hand sliding off his thigh and across the bed until it finds his own hand, resting yours on top of his as your gaze returns to his. A smile comes to your lips, your heart starting to feel lighter and faster with every beat. Tease or not, Nanami was a natural at making you feel like this.
“A husband can definitely love their spouse.” You replied, your voice having a slight tease in it as well.
“Especially when they are so beautiful.” Nanami adds, his smile growing soft as he leaned against your forehead and closed his eyes. He still felt tired, but he really liked this moment with you right now, feeling as if it was making up for the time he’s been away from you. So he wanted to stay in it a little longer.
“I see, so that’s why you were starting too.” You whispered, though there is the hint of a giggle in your voice that Nanami is able to pick on, going as far as being able to hear your smile.
“Yeah, that is why.” Nanami sighs, laying back on the bed and resting his head on your thighs, groaning softly once he feels his back meet the bed. He could feel how your hands immediately found his hair, gently combing his blond locks with your fingers.
It was comfortable, he didn’t want to move. He wanted to fall asleep just like this. Not yet though. He still wanted to be with you, feel you like this. Even if the two of you weren’t talking much and he was tired out of his mind, you being here and letting him be like this on your lap was enough to calm him further. You being here made him calm.
“I’ve been so busy.” Nanami mumbles, taking a deep breath as his eyes closed for a second.
“It’s okay.” You assured him. “It’s work.”
But there was something in your voice that didn’t match your words. Nanami knew what it was—how much you wanted him to cut back on overtime for his sake. But your words felt as if you were trying to let him know that you wouldn’t hold it against him how his work cuts into his time with you, that he didn’t need to feel that kind of guilt from you. He knew he needed to set a firmer boundary with work so he could put you first like he wanted to, rather than making you worry like this.
Just imagining you falling asleep, waiting for him to come back only for him to come long after, was painful. He didn’t want that for you anymore.
He shakes his head, his hand coming up to yours that was losing its fingers across his hair, stopping your movements. No matter how many times you assured him, how much you tried to be understanding, he didn’t want this to drag on. Work was work, true. But it shouldn’t be overtaking his life, be more important than you were to him. You came before that, and anything for that matter, it wasn’t up to debate. Especially when you were so patient and caring to him despite how neglectful he can be.
“I shouldn’t…” He sighed, taking some time to form over his words. He didn’t want, let alone deserve, so many passes and he wanted to own up to all those times he had to come home late. “Don’t worry so much about me, please,” it’s what he ends up saying.
His words are met with a soft squeeze of your hand after you turn your hand around to be holding his, your free hand coming down to rest around his chest. You could see what he meant with that.
Don’t wait for me.
I can handle myself.
You don’t have to forgive me so easily.
Truth be told, you knew other people would grow irritated at their husbands coming home late, scolding them for the time they finally arrive and leading to distrust. But being married to a jujutsu sorcerer like him…it was a different case. You trusted him with this job, knowing how much more fulfilling it was than working corporate; trusted him to be careful and learned the kind of things he had to deal with. It was a dangerous job, it was exhausting, and you wonder how he can even ask you to not worry. To not worry about Nanami was simply against your marriage vows. You couldn’t do that.
“You’re my husband. I’m supposed to worry about you.”
“Just trust that I’ll be fine.” Nanami said softly, a small sigh leaving his lips as he looked up at you.
He could see that concern in your eyes. Though it is nice to have someone who worries about him, there’s still that annoying part in him that makes him feel guilty for making you worry in the first place. Yet, he knew that he couldn’t blame you. No matter how many times he insisted on you not waiting up for him or on tending his wounds, he knew you would still worry about him. In a way, you both just wanted to do more for the other—you felt like he did a lot for you and he felt like he didn’t do enough for you.
“I’m tired, love,” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes with his free hand, “let’s not fight…not tonight.”
“It’s not fighting,” you let go of his hand, letting it slip to his cheek. You knew better than to try and argue when he was this tired, let alone when you knew he had the best intentions even if he dismissed himself so often. “I do trust you, but I still need to care for the person I love so much..”
Nanami chuckled, looking up at you with a tired smile. As he took a deep breath, he could feel how lucky and thankful he was at this moment. Even if a part of him tried to weigh him down with this guilt over how things seemed to be in his mind, you somehow knew how to show him the reality of things. He wasn’t neglectful like his mind was telling him, not when he was trying to peel his eyes open just to spend more time with you. You weren’t forgiving because he was your husband, but because you trusted him enough with your heart. You weren’t worried over him because he came late, you worried because you loved him.
Before he can even answer, you gently pull him off your lap and lay his head back down on the bed. You stand up, patting his shoulder.
“I’ll get your pajamas.” You smile at him, the kind of smile that says don’t worry about a thing, before you turn to his dresser.
Nanami thanks you, sitting up on the bed and stretching his arms and back. The room quiets down, neither of you saying a word as you come back with his night garments and placing them by his side to let him put them on. Not yet done, you take all of his work clothes and turn back to the dresser to put his clothes away while he changes. Some are set aside for the laundry basket, others are hung back up, and others tucked away in the drawers.
Once done with that task, you turn back to head to the bed, laying down underneath the sheets like you were long before he came back for work. He was a bit slow in putting his pajamas on to no one’s surprise since he might as well fall asleep right then and there, but eventually he lays down next to you after turning off the lights, his body facing yours. You wrap an arm around him, pulling yourself closer, sighing when he does the same by rolling on his back and letting you rest your head on his chest to which you happily do.
“I’m surprised you lasted so long without dropping unconscious onto the bed.” You said softly, a tinge of a tease in your voice.
Nanami chuckles, a yawn following soon after as fatigue starts to get to him after god knows how many hours of working.
“So am I. I’ve been like that for hours, honestly.” He pulls you a bit closer, his hand gently grazing up and down your arm. A touch that made your body melt into his body. “But it was worth it. I got to spend more time with you, even if I only had half a brain to see you.”
You hummed, your head turning up to look at him before pressing a kiss on his shoulder. You decided to not say anything, wanting him to get that rest he not only needed but also deserved. That doesn’t mean his words don’t make your heart flutter, even as he says them in that hoarse voice from how tired he was, it made them feel much more softer that he pushed himself to let her know that.
You lift up the covers and let yourself get comfortable with him as your pillow and you in his arms, the two of you cuddling in the quiet and silent room. A few seconds pass, then minutes, and you were sure he had already fallen asleep as evident by his deep breath that made your head rise and fall with his chest, his heart serving as your personal lullaby. Knowing that you had done everything you could for him in this moment, you let yourself close your eyes and begin to return to your sleep from earlier.
Though before you could truly fall into slumber, you feel his head lean against yours, a soft kiss placed on the top of your head that makes your heart beat for him, feeling safe in his arms as he manages to finally answer back to you from earlier:
“I love you too, dear. Thank you…for everything you do.”
Nanami would’ve said more, he probably wanted to have it not been from how his words slurred as his body was finally claimed over by that sleep he pushed off for far too long. After all, now that he finally got his fill of you, he could now rest properly.
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Unconventional Flowers Event - April
Bleeding Hearts and the Cherry Blossom Festival ft. Nanami
A/N: April prompt for my Unconventional Flowers Event. A little longer and angsty compared to my previous ones but here we are. Requested for by the sweet @harlekin6
Rating: 13+ to be safe, fluffy, slightly angsty
Pairing: Nanami x reader
Word Count: 1634
“This way sensei!” The students lead you eagerly through the grounds of the vast cherry blossom park. The delicate pink blooms had finally blossomed and the school had thought it was a good idea to go as a group to see them.
Usually, you’d be excited and looking forward to going but this year when the plans were being made you hesitated. It brought back painful and embarrassing memories from almost a year ago. Memories you had tried to bury, unsuccessfully.
A heavy dread settles in your chest as you remember it like it was yesterday. The tears, the yelling, the insistence that the two of you could work it out. The both of you had been on back-to-back missions, schedules making you miss each other consecutively. Hadn’t spent any time together as a couple in months, even though you lived together.
Perhaps he felt inadequate when you had brought up the topic of wanting to spend more time with him, maybe both of you putting in some time off together. It was cherry blossom season after all. Maybe the date you had planned this weekend could be extended and you could take a mini vacation to reconnect. You hadn’t imagined in your wildest dreams that he would look at you in the face, calmly, and say maybe you should break up.
The air seemed to vanish from your lungs. Was it something you did? No. Was there something he needed to talk about? No.
“You deserve better,” he’d said, readjusting his glasses. You’d been together for the better part of a year, understood each other’s line of work, and hadn’t really had any arguments or complaints. “I just don’t feel like I’ve been a good boyfriend to you. You deserve someone who can do nicer things for you. Who can actually give you proper attention and be present for you.”
“I’m too needy? Is that what you’re saying?” You had asked as you jolted up from the sofa.
“No. Not at all. But I don’t feel like I’m giving my all to this relationship. It’s unfair to you. It might be best if we break up.” His voice felt strained and he looked at you like he wanted to pull you into a hug and tell you it was for the best. But you felt yourself turn icy and move away from him. You spent the night in the guest bedroom, sobbing, wondering where it had all gone wrong.
You couldn’t face him, felt trapped in this space that had become your home like you were living in a stranger’s skin. It felt like a cruel joke as you had silently packed your suitcase, being careful not to disturb him, spotting both your spring yukatas hanging next to each other in the closet, ready for the cherry blossom festival. You had packed the yukata, swearing you’d never wear it, and had quietly slipped out in the quiet hours of the morning.
Avoiding each other had been hard. Both of you worked at the same school, after all, taught the same students. You thought you had been fine. A month passed. You thought you were moving on.
Then one day, you saw him leaving campus with another woman. No one you knew, but an attractive woman. Your feet had taken you to the nearest bar and you had downed the shots like water, one after the other. The kind bartender had helped you get a cab home and you had passed out on your bed. The next day morning, you woke up, hungover, and immediately checked your call list, feeling proud there weren't any drunk outgoing pity calls to him…then froze when you saw a text from him.
It was a photo of a very strange-looking plant, a large bouquet of it, heart-shaped with little petals hanging off the bottom.
Are you all right?
The text that accompanied it, had you wracking your brain trying to piece together what had happened. You ran the flower picture through Google’s image search which identified them as Bleeding Heart flowers, and then a quick perusal through your browsing history had you covering your face and moaning in mortification.
YOU HAD SENT A BOUQUET OF THESE FLOWERS TO HIM.
A damn bouquet of flowers that signified heartbreak and unreturned love. The card accompanying the bouquet was a long letter about how much you hated him for ending things. If the ground could split open and swallow you whole, now would be the right time. How were you supposed to face him at work? When you saw him a few hours later, he looked at you exactly how you had been wishing he wouldn’t. That look of empathy and pity.
“I think we should talk.”
“No. We don’t. Forget it happened.” Just like how you forgot me
“I just want to make sure you’re all right,” No I’m not all right. It hurts to see you. To be near you.
“I’m fine!” With the hardest effort you’ve ever exerted in your life, you turn away. “I’m sorry for the flowers. I was drunk. I think maybe it’s for the best if we don’t talk to each other anymore. Unless it’s about work.”
“Y/n…” Please don’t say my name. I’ll shatter.
You walked away, steeling yourself to not cry in front of him, your heart cracking and breaking into pieces all over again.
“Sensei!” You snap out of your reverie, pulled back to the present, wearing the same yukata you swore you’d never wear. Yuji had a wide grin on his face, clearly excited to explore the rest of the area. He and Nobara and Megumi were all dressed in their finest, little hearts unburdened by the grief of a relationship breakup.
You fix a smile on your face. At the least, the staff had some consideration on your part when you said you’d chaperone the students rather than go with the rest of the teachers. It was easier this way. The students were a good distraction. You were supposed to meet up with Gojo who was helping you chaperone, so all of you kept your eyes peeled, searching for a head full of fluffy white locks.
It doesn’t take too long, but when you finally spy Gojo, you realize with a heart-stopping squeeze that he isn’t alone. Tall, blond, and looking subdued, Nanami walks next to him, and it is all you can do to not panic and keep your composure.
“Was Nanami-san supposed to be chaperoning with us?” You ask, hoping you sounded nonchalant though there’s a quiver in your voice.
The 3 students give you their most innocent smiles before Nobara replies. “He’s not here to chaperone. And neither are you actually. We’re going with Gojo-sensei.”
A flood of trepidation fills you. “No. I don’t think that’s a good idea. That wasn’t the plan.” You start weighing your options in case they did go with Gojo. You could just brush past him and go home. No one would stop you. You could -
“There you are!” Gojo’s loud voice cuts through your escape plan thoughts. Realizing there was no way out of it, you stiffen, and when Nanami sees you, he does the same, eyes widening slightly.
“Well, I’ve got the kids!” Gojo says cheerfully. “Meet you guys here in another hour.” With that, they all vanish into the crowd.
Nanami looks tired, more than usual. He looks at you as though unsure what to say. He was wearing the yukata that had been hanging in the closet on the night you left. Last year, when the two of you should have been at this event, together. It felt like a million miles separated you both despite being feet away from each other.
“Looks like they gave us the slip huh?” you ask nervously, trying to brush off the tension that filled you. You were looking for an opening, trying to leave without being awkward.
“I guess they did.” Nanami rubs the side of his neck with a large hand before fixing his hazel eyes on you. “How have you been?”
Swallowing the lump in your throat, you nod casually. “I’ve been good. Busy.”
“Mhm. So I’ve heard. You took on so many missions that you were barely in Tokyo at all for the past few months.”
“I needed the change of scenery. Went to a lot of nice places actually.”
“And met a lot of nice people?” he asks quietly, eyes flickering with uncertainty.
Your chest tightens. It was none of his business, really, but you’re helpless as you spill the truth. “No. Work doesn’t really leave much room for dating. It doesn’t leave room for a lot of things.” You added, unable to keep a tinge of insinuation out of your voice.
He picks up on this and looks away. “Y/n…It’s been hard. Since we broke up.” The words are said with regret and your breath catches in your throat. “I…I want a second chance. I made a mistake.”
His words are said so simply. He wasn’t one for flair and big declarations. You knew that. Nanami was a man of action. He did things. Things that pulled on your feelings, things that made you feel like he cared, even after he had broken up with you.
“What changed?” You ask, not daring to let yourself hope.
“It just…doesn’t feel right without you. I need you. It feels like I’ve been wandering and didn’t have a home. Home isn’t home when you’re not there.”
Tears prick your eyes. He moves closer to you and before you know it, you’re in his embrace.
“Well?” he whispers in your ears, but it’s clear he’s about to crack.
You nod against him, cherry blossoms swirling down like little falling stars around you, everything you wanted finally coming true.
All animated lines and banners by @/ cafekitsune
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Waiting For The Miracle(Villain!Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader)
I dreamed about you, baby
It was just the other night
Let's see if we're that strong
Yeah let's do something crazy,
Something absolutely wrong
warnings: Dark themes, murder, violence, abuse, blood, smut, unprotected sex, weapons, swearing, choking, rough sex, Yandere themes
pairings: Villain!Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader
word count: 3.5k
summary: Nanami Kento has a rage that builds deep inside of him for years. The minute he finds out that you are the victim of abuse, he snaps...and what ensues is the madness that you both descend into.
taglist: @beneathstarryskies @seireiteihellbutterfly @an-ever-angry-bi @benkeibear @namikyento @adharadotcom @anonimusunnoaniswriting @erebus-et-eigengrau
I cannot stress this enough, this is a VERY VERY VERY VERY dark piece of writing. I do not condone these actions, but I just want everyone to know that this isn't for the faint of heart. If you cannot deal with any of the warnings mentioned above, please you should skip this. Heavily inspired by the film Natural Born Killers.
Nanami was outraged. He’s been holding these feelings deep inside of himself for years. They threatened to spill over so many times, but he was so good at keeping himself in check. So many times he clenched his fist and bit his tongue. Losing his best friend and watching his upperclassman defect, it made the fire deep in the pit of his belly become even more heated.
Kento took lots of comfort in knowing he always had you. You, the bright eyed smiling girl of his dreams. You worked hard to become a sorcerer that was at his own level. Both of you became Grade One sorcerers in no time. But what Kento never knew was that you were hiding your own secret. He had no idea that you harbored just as much pain as he did. Maybe you harbored even more pain than him.
For years, you endured the abuse of your family. The minute they found out that you could see curses and that you weren’t just mentally ill, they found it so repulsive to keep you around. During the summer vacation, you always wished you could go somewhere else but home. They tried to hide you like some dirty secret, but you always found solace in coming to school.
Meeting Kento and Haibara has been your saving grace. Having two best friends who would do absolutely anything for you made you feel like a normal person. It’s why you hid your secret from them for years. Neither of them had any idea that your family was treating you like some sort of pariah.
After the loss of your sweet friend Yu Haibara, something broke deep inside of Nanami. You watched him shift from calm and collected to sullen and deep inside himself. Then both of you felt so helpless losing Suguru as well. You, Satoru and Kento tried to pick up the pieces, but it all just seemed to be too hard. Gojo became too strong for any of you to match him, and Kento grew increasingly angry at the world.
It started with one mission gone wrong. Kento found himself in a conundrum where he could save someone at the cost of losing the curse. The curse taunted him one too many times, and so he allowed the victim to be hurt to be able to exorcize the curse.
The blood that splattered from the victim ended up on Kento’s face. He shuddered at the way it suddenly excited him. His eyes rolled back and he smeared that blood. The victim watched in horror before their life was snuffed out. He used his Ratio technique, hitting them right in their weakest point.
From that moment on, Kento finds himself growing addicted to the spilled blood. He knows it’s wrong to allow innocent people to die, but he also knows he can’t stop the anger that fuels him. He’s gone too far down this path, and he doesn’t think he could ever deviate from it.
So the moment he found out that your family had been abusing you, Kento grew even more angry. It was like his whole body was crying out to end this madness. You were his everything. The apple of his eye. His sweet angel. He knew he’d kill for you if he had to. And he would stop at nothing to keep you safe…
It’s late one night when he knocks on the door of your family home. You open it to see him, and you swear you’ve never seen this look in his eyes. It’s pure rage that you can see. It excites you in a way that is confounding and eerily comforting.
“Are you home alone?” he asks, his fists shaking from being clenched so hard.
“N-no.” You reply in a quiet voice.
You know that you shouldn’t let him in, but you feel it in your heart that this could be your way out. As you shut the door behind him, you hear your father calling out from his spot on the couch.You wished that he would just leave you alone for once in your life.
“Who the fuck is here?”
You shudder and cower when you hear that tone of his voice. Tears sting your eyes, and Kento is quick to notice the way you’re reacting to this. He gently cups your face in his hands and he leans in closer.
“I’m here to deliver you from this pain,”
His words make your heart skip a beat. Your eyes widen and you try to understand just exactly what he means when he says he’s going to deliver you from this pain. What does he plan to do? Your heart races as you watch Nanami pull the carrying case from his back and unsheathes his blunt blade.
“K-Kento, what are you—”
But you’re interrupted by your father coming in to investigate what’s going on. His eyes narrow at the blond standing in front of you. You can tell your father is beyond pissed off at this point. You make no move to intervene.
“I knew it! You really just let any man into this house,” your father spits out. “Who’s this scumbag anyway?”
Kento sneers, “You’re never putting your hands on her ever again.”
Your father is about to laugh in his face, but you watch in surprise as Kento uses his ratio technique on your father. There’s a split second where your father doesn’t quite realize what’s just happened. Then the blood begins to gush from his throat.
You blink and squeal in surprise when some of the blood splatters on your face. With shaking hands, you try to wipe it off your face. Yet all you manage to do is smear it, and just like Kento some time ago, something changes inside of you. You look at the man you love.
“You…you killed him,” you say in a matter-of-fact tone.
“I did it for you. Nothing’s going to take you away from me. Never again,”
Kento wraps his arms around you, ignoring the gurgling noises that your dying father makes. Then you feel Kento’s lips on yours in such a heated kiss. Neither of you know where this passion has come from, but it feels like it’s growing with every second.
“I don’t know why you hid this from me,” Kento says as he rests his forehead against yours.
“I was ashamed. I was scared you wouldn’t see me the same way.”
Kento growls, “You are my one and only, do you understand me?”
You’re about to reply when a blood-curdling scream interrupts you both. Your mother is pointing at you, trying to convince you to move away from Kento. Then her eyes widen in horror as she sees the blood splattered and smeared on your own face. You begin to laugh as she’s piecing it all together.
“Oh sweet mother of mine,” you coo mockingly. “How many times did I ask for your help or for you to lay off me?”
“I-I-I-” she tries to get the words out, but she’s so terrified.
“I-I-I…what? You’re too scared to fucking talk to me now? After all this fucking bullshit?!” You cry out.
Then you grab Kento’s blunt blade, imbuing it in your own cursed energy. It glimmers with red energy, pulsing and glowing. You spin it around, catching it with a scary precision.
“Go on, darling. Show her just how strong and powerful you are,” Kento coaxes you, knowing you’ll do what you need to.
Your eyes flare with rage as your mother begins trying to reason with you. She tells you that she never meant to hurt you. She gets down on her knees and begins to beg for forgiveness. You slowly slide the blunt blade down her cheek, making a cut from the imbued cursed energy.
“What kind of mother hurts her own flesh and blood?” you ask her, tears in your eyes. “What kind of mother lets her little baby become the victim of years of abuse?”
Your mother tries to defend herself, but it’s too late. Kento watches you proudly as you slash the blade. Blood pours out of her wound, and she grasps at her neck pathetically.
“You let him hurt me for years. You let my own father— you let him touch me. You let him do anything he wanted, and all you did was watch.” You finally tell her.
You hand Kento his blade back, and he can see it on your face. You never knew that you’d be capable of doing something like this. But after being hurt so deeply by the two people who were supposed to protect you and raise you, your heart had been filled with so much rage.
“You’re free now,” he whispers softly before kissing you.
“We’re free.”
You hold his hand, and he leads you out of the house. You look at your childhood home one last time before Kento lights a match and throws it at the building. It goes up in flames within seconds, making you cheer loudly.
Then he guides you to the car he managed to acquire. You jump into the passenger side, and Kento gets behind the wheel. He starts it up, winking at you. You never knew you could feel so liberated in your entire life.
With the music cranked up, Kento drives you far far away from all of this…
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈
In the hotel room, Kento’s hands are all over you. After a long shower to clean the blood from your skin, you feel new. He kisses you hungrily. His tongue wrestles with yours for dominance, his saliva filling your mouth sweetly. You moan at the taste of your lover. When he pulls away you watch the strings of spit keeping you both connected.
“You’re my angel,” he whispers gruffly. “Nobody will ever take you away from me.”
Your eyes widen, “Nobody will ever take you away from me either.”
His hands pin your wrists above your head. You let out such a cute moan for him as his knee spreads your legs. Kento’s eyes are alight with passion as he leans in to kiss you once more. Your lips meld together with heat and desire. Your whole body shudders as he tightens his grip on your wrists.
“I fuckin’ mean it, angel. Nobody’s taking you away from me,”
Your heart races at the sound of his voice. His words are genuine and true. He’d do anything to keep you safe. One of his hands comes up to your throat, squeezing just a little to have you gasp for him.
“You are all mine,” he growls in your ear. Then he squeezes your throat harder. “I’d rather fucking die than to be on this earth without you.”
You let out a strangled moan as you feel his hand dragging down your naked body. He smirks as he tweaks one of your nipples, then the other. Then he presses a kiss to your breast, his teeth gently biting down on it.
“Shit!” you cry out, your hands gripping his hair.
Nanami chuckles darkly as he licks the deep bite mark he’s left on your sensitive flesh.His eyes flicker up at you as his large, calloused hands cup your breasts. You let out passionate gasps and whimpers as he begins to suckle on your nipples. His teeth graze them, making you jolt into his touch.
Eventually he gets fed up with waiting. He spreads your thighs wide, spitting onto your already wet cunt. Using two fingers, he smears your arousal and his spit all over your weeping hole. Then he stuffs you full of his fingers, making you buck up.
“That’s it,” he coaxes you. “Think you’re ready for me?”
His cock rests against your mound and he pulls his fingers out of your cunt. You nod eagerly, begging for him. With one fluid movement, Kento bottoms out inside of you. He doesn’t give you a chance to adjust, slamming into you over and over.
The air from your lungs is forced out, making you gasp and pant from the intense pleasure. You’ve never seen him look at you like this. It’s like he’s trying to bound your souls together. His hands grip your hips, pulling you down with each harsh thrust.
“Don’t worry about anything,” Kento growls against your ear. “Never going to let anyone touch my fuckin’ angel ever again.”
You cling to him, wrapping your arms and legs around him. “I love you so much. I never want to let you go.”
Kento picks up his pace, nibbling at your neck. With every thrust, he tells you about how he’s never letting anyone come near you anymore. You’re always going to be right by his side where you belong.
“You belong to me, and only me…” he pushes his cock deeper inside of you.
The coil inside of you snaps and your orgasm comes crashing down over you. You cry out, your nails digging deep into the muscles of Nanami’s well-toned back.
“Fuck that’s it,” Nanami grunts as his hips go faster. “Good girl, my good girl.”
He grips you even harder, his fingertips surely going to leave bruises into your skin. His eyes are boring into yours, a flame of desire building between the two of you. It’s going to consume you both.
“Nobody’s taking my baby away from me!” Thrust. “All mine, you got it?!” Thrust. “Gonna claim you and keep you safe!” Thrust.
And with the final thrust, his cock is nestled bruisingly against your cervix. Shots of his thick potent cum begin filling your awaiting womb. You let out another sweet cry of love, making Nanami growl loudly.
“Mine!”
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈
The days and weeks that follow are a whirlwind of pain, pleasure and killing. You and Nanami find yourselves unable to contain the bloodlust that seems to have infected the two of you. The rage that built so deep inside both of you has become uncontainable. It grew so fast.
Each and every little village you go to, you find yourselves unable to stop killing. With you seducing the worst types of people, Nanami is right there ready to attack them. Doesn't matter if they are men or women, you two get your fix together.
One night you’re in a small bar together, enjoying each other’s company. To anyone looking at you, nobody would be able to tell you’re the infamous curse users. Nobody knows who you two are.
The music starts up on the jukebox and your eyes light up with excitement. You get up from your seat, getting closer to the source of the music.
“This is my favorite song!” You exclaim, losing yourself to the music.
Nanami watches you, his eyes full of nothing but pure love. This soon turns into something else as a few men begin to take notice of you. His eyes are narrow and precise as one of these scumbags approaches you and tries to place his hand on you.
“Hey fuckface! I’m just tryin’ to dance here!” You spit out, pushing him off of you.
“What’s your fucking problem!? Stupid cunt!”
He’s about to hit you, when you slam him into the wall. The man’s eyes are wide as he notices how you are much stronger than you appear. Everyone is looking at the display, but Nanami’s got his eyes locked on just you. He thinks to himself how proud he is that you’re his girl.
“Now, now…let’s settle this calmly, little miss.”
You spit in the man’s face, “I told you, I was just dancing. You’re the one who got fucking handsy with me!”
The man’s eyes widen when he sees you pulling back his fist. Nobody in the bar can see the cursed energy imbued in your fist. The guy tries to reason with you, but it’s much too late when your hand connects with his fist. Everyone screams in horror as the blood comes flying out of the guy’s nose and eyes.
“Holy fuck!” Someone from the crowd exclaims.
Before anyone else can do anything, you watch as your true love pulls the blunt blade from his harness concealed beneath the cream blazer. Everyone watches you both as you begin attacking the people in the bar.
“Think you can just watch as a couple of scumbags try to take advantage of a young woman?” Kento asks the scared patrons. “Is this really what you want to see happen right in front of your eyes? How disgusting!”
One of the men comes over and tries to reason with him, which makes Nanami swing his blade while pairing it with the Ratio technique. You squeal in delight as you watch your lover dispatch these evil people.
Soon it turns into an all-out brawl. The bar was packed with so many people, and here you and Nanami are trying to teach them all a lesson. All you wanted was a night out for fun, but they showed you their ugly side.
“Don’t even think about touching my pretty little angel,” Nanami sneers as he grabs someone by the back of their neck.
And he holds the person steady for you, causing you to use your cursed energy to set their nerves alight. They foam at the mouth from the intense shock to their system. Their eyes flutter shut, and then you strike them with your fist.
The last person alive is a writer named Genevieve. She pleads for her life, telling you she’s nothing but a lowly writer. You look over at your lover, smirking playfully. Then Kento sheathes his blunt blade back into the holster.
“Take your swing, honey.”
The last thing the writer sees is your fist coming straight for her face…
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈
The car slows down on an empty bridge. You’ve been driving for a long time. Kento looks at you when he cuts the engine. Then he gets out of the car, coming around to open your door. He takes your hand in his, leading you towards the railing.
“Look at that beautiful river,” Kento whispers in your ear. “The water flows endlessly…just like our love.”
Your pupils are blown wide with love. Kento cups your face gently, kissing you so tenderly. It’s been such a wild ride already, but you’re ready to continue this life with him. You know you’d happily die for him. You’d happily kill for him again and again and again…
“Let’s do this properly, yeah?”
You nod your head. Kento leads you back to the car and you gather up some stuff from your past life. He helps you push it off the side of the bridge. Mementos, pieces of clothing you’d never wear again and even family photos scatter in the water.
“Goodbye bitch,” you say to your former self. “I’m a free woman now!”
You climb onto the railing, raising your arms up and letting out a loud cry. Kento looks at you like you strung the stars in the sky just for him. He places his hand protectively on your back, keeping you steady.
“Let’s get married,” Kento finally announces.
You look back at him, your eyebrow cocked when you finally take in what he’s just said. You laugh wildly.
“Right here? I mean…we got no priest. No officiator. No church…no temple.”
Kento helps you down onto your feet, pulling you into his arms. Your face nuzzles in the crook of your neck as he begins to play with your hair. He then leans in to whisper in your ear, his voice deep and full of desire.
“No need for any of those things. Our church is right here. We are our own officiators. Our own redeemers.”
You look deeply into his eyes, your heart thumping wildly in your ribcage like the wings of a hummingbird. Then you nod, unable to properly form the words just yet as you are overwhelmed with so much happiness.
“Give me your hand,” Nanami asks, and you do as he says.
You watch as he pulls a small buck knife. Then he makes a small incision in his hand. You gasp when you feel the cold metal on your palm next, whining softly from the pain. Then Kento clasps your hands together, holding it out over the flowing river.
“There we go,” he whispers huskily. “Now we’re husband and wife.”
You tear up, “Y-yeah! Yeah we are!”
Kento then uses his other hand to cup your face. He kisses you with all the love he can muster. Then he leans his forehead against yours, keeping your hands together and dripping blood into the river.
“And there we go…flowing in all the rivers and oceans and lakes and seas of the world. We’re everywhere all at once.”
You look into his eyes, then you wrap your arms around him completely, kissing him so sweetly. You never knew that life could be so free. You know that things aren’t going to be the most normal with this relationship, but you wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.
“I love you forever, Kento.”
He smiles, “And I love you forever, darling.”
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⌗︙・nanami with high sex drive ⸜⸜・
nanami who has high sex drive but won't ever admit it. he curses under his breath, running to the bathroom with his dick pressed against his pants. he's painfully hard and in need of some relief. he can't believe this is happening to him. you and him fucked in the morning before he left for works. it's been 2 hours and he needs to be nestled inside of your pussy again. no matter how many times he fucks you,he needs to go again right after. his hand wraps around his cock and he imagines you on hands and knees in front of him, just really so he can slide right in. he can't even fantasize about you sucking his dick because he needs to be inside of you 24/7. as much as he loves your mouth, your pussy is what keeps his alive in his boring job. nanami just wishes to go home so he can dive into your cunt. he cums on his hand in a dirty office bathroom, still not satisfied with himself. nanami grabs his phone,dialing your number.
"hi kento baby." you say happily and his cock hardens again.
"hi,baby. there's something i need you to do for me."
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18+, minors dni! (being a slut for nanami bc honestly who isn’t)
authors note: hello! this is my first-ever post, i hope you guys enjoy it! (I literally have no idea how layouts work yet, bear with me)
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sugardaddy!nanami who scolds you whenever you feel as if you’re “doing too much,” with all the lavish gifts he gives you. nothing is too much for his angel.
sugardaddy!nanami that asks which jewelry set you like best. emerald or ruby? ah. how about both?
sugardaddy!nanami who you thought would be a joyless, serious man as people portray him. they’re not lying, he really is serious, to people that aren’t you. you’ll witness a soft side of him that only shows the most gentle of smiles.
sugardaddy!nanami who gladly scoops you up bridal style in his arms, walking while you burry your head into his chest.
sugardaddy!nanami who unpacks the gifts he gets you on the countertop after a business trip. “kento, baby, you shouldn’t have.” you play with the polyester ribbon while he simply leans back on the fridge opening up a beverage. “I couldn’t help but have the prettiest woman in the world waiting for me at home. it would be embarrassing of me to show up empty-handed.”
sugardaddy!nanami who for the first few times that you went out with him, meticulously kept track of the things you called “cute” and noted wherever your eyes wandered for a minute too long. the next morning you woke up with everything you ogled your eyes at decorating your room. attached is a note that read, “please forgive me, sweetheart, I didn’t know which you liked best. p.s. my sincerest apologies again, I let my own thoughts get carried away. be good for me and wear this tonight.” your fingers gingerly held onto the note, until your eyes fell on two things you don’t remember looking at when you went out shopping. a beautiful silk gown and an expensive lingerie set.
sugardaddy!nanami who will gladly kneel to strap your heel, placing a kiss on your ankle, after trailing his hand up and down your shin.
sugardaddy!nanami who sends you a monthly allowance for your hair, nails, skincare, and whatever you desire.
sugardaddy!nanami who thinks indulging in materialistic things is futile, but he wants to see you decorated in every fine piece of fabric, clothing, and accessories.
sugardaddy!nanami who acts as if he’s unbothered by you curling up on his lap while he types away on his work computer. you couldn’t even tell how much he adores every second of this as he idly types away. he loves to have you pushed up on him all the time, the minute you slightly move? a strong hand is placed on your thigh or waist to prevent you from leaving.
sugardaddy!nanami who’s only condition is to continue this dynamic until you’re unhappy or want nothing to do with it. (you literally want to marry this man but okay).
sugardaddy!nanami who has a saturday night ritual with you where you buy the most extravagant of desserts and feed it to each other. oh yeah, you have to be sitting on his lap the entire time while you both feed each other from the same fork.
sugardaddy!nanami who places his nose on the nape of your neck while you’re seated on him as he sharply breathes in your scent. “as much as I enjoy eating sweets with you,” he said in a whisper, “they could never mimic your taste.”
sugardaddy!nanami who started off paying your rent, bills, and utilities which he felt mentally, secretly disgruntled by. not because he’s paying (duh) or he has to take care of you, it’s just the fact you haven’t moved in with him yet.
sugardaddy!nanami who considers you under his care and deems your wellbeing as his responsibility. you’re hurt? point to where. your body is sore? lay back down while he massages you. you’re hungry? food is being sent over and here’s money for grocery shopping. you’re upset? he kneels down in front of you as he attentively listens to your sobs.
sugardaddy!nanami who supports your hobbies. he’ll drop off little things that he knows have to do with your interests and only says, “you like this don’t you?” you name drop pilates, cooking, art, knitting, whatever it is, he signs you up for the nearest classes.
sugardaddy!nanami who actually notices if you did something different with your hair, if you wore a new shade of lip gloss. little things.
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sugardaddy!nanami who places the most tender of kisses onto your forehead like he didn’t wreck your shit a second prior. “such a good girl… i’m so so proud. taking my cock in so well.”
sugardaddy!nanami that plays with your body in subtle ways. hands? his big, veiny fingers are stroking yours gently. thighs? constantly getting gripped. your waist? a strong arm wrapped around it. your cheek? a thumb stroking it. shoulders? relieving tension from it. collarbone? rearranging your necklace so it lays properly. guts? fucked out of place. makeup? smeared all across his luxurious bedsheets. lips? blown out from sucking his monster cock and making out.
sugardaddy!nanami who rents out an entire summer beach house with a glorious view of the ocean. partially because he likes the privacy of you two alone, surrounded by nature, and romantic sunset dinners. also because he wants to watch you ride him while he leans back on a beach chair without disturbing the public. (nobody is allowed to see what’s his).
sugardaddy!nanami who actually pounded you into another dimension, your mind still in a haze while he carries you to the running bath. “stay with me princess, i need to clean you up.”
sugardaddy!nanami who makes sure you finish several times before he does. oh poor baby, you’re out of breath? would you like some water? we’re not finished yet. poor nanami didn’t get to cum once, and you so badly want him to use your body to do so.
sugardaddy!nanami who buys you a personal collection of sex toys to play with when he’s not there. he personally studies the way your body twitches and convulses with certain toys, he needs to know how to please his princess. sometimes he chuckles to himself because he knows deep down, nothing– no one, can please you the way he does.
sugardaddy!nanami who sees you stressed or crying over school and work and quickly replaces those tears with ones of joy.
sugardaddy!nanami who will have you folded like a damn lawn chair and only whisper sweet nothings while drilling into you.
sugardaddy!nanami who has a high sex drive but hides it in the beginning like the gentleman he is, making sure you feel comfortable and safe.
sugardaddy!nanami who gives you the car you’ve been wanting forever. you ride the car for a bit with him ecstatic, kissing him over and over, giggling. you both quickly found a new way to celebrate. you’re pinned down over the glove compartment, one large hand gripping both of yours as they’re pinned to your back, and the sounds of skin slapping with your loud moans mix in the air. “ke-n-toooo~ I-I don’t want to ge- uh! It m-messy in h-ere…” “don’t worry darling, I-” a low grunt comes out, “i always cum inside dont I?” he quickens up the pace only to have you screaming like a whore. “t-that’s it. just take it. It feels good, I know,” he mercilessly pounds into you, kissing your temple, “just come undone on me, that’s it. make me proud.”
sugardaddy!nanami who texts you to quickly come to the office and sends you a cab for an urgent “visit.” why? he’s stressed and his favorite method to cool down is your throat expanding around his girthy dick. he'll grip the strands of your hair while cooing at you, "i know angel, i know. but you look so beautiful right now, don't stop."
sugardaddy!nanami who groans from the stressors of his job, turning his attention to you while he pushes himself back on his chair. he looks down on his bulge before sighing and tugging his tie down left and right. “go ahead. come suck me off, i need it and I know you want it too.”
sugardaddy!nanami who does the whole pillow underneath, hand pressed on lower abdomen, with a vibrator wand abusing your clit.
sugardaddy!nanami who has a diet that consists of devouring your pussy on a regular basis. “b-babe… i- ah! s-slow down,” as you elicit a loud dirty moan that fills the room, “pleaaaase.” if only you knew he takes more pleasure out of this than you and you’re the one gripping his hair to the point of leaving his scalp red. he further pushes his nose into you, mumbling, “beg all you want, I’m not done.”
sugardaddy!nanami who is a gentleman, really. who will kill anything within 5 meters if it remotely threatens you. but he can’t help but admire the way your little cunt can’t fully take it the first few times together.
sugardaddy!nanami who never thought much of daddy kinks, but when he hears “daddy” slip out of your precious mouth, his heels dig deeper into the mattress, his massive body weight shifts crushing you, angling his dick in an almost sinful way while pressing you deeper into a mating press. “say it again.”
sugardaddy!nanami who watches you squirm with a vibrator jammed to your clit and his tongue lapping up and down your cunt like any separation from his tongue and your pussy will cause his death. “k-kento s-stop this feeli- ah! I th- oh god! I think I need to pee!” he can’t help but chuckle in his head. his baby never squirted before until now.
sugardaddy!nanami who secretly wants to get you knocked up. man loves fucking his cum into you. he has such a big breeding kink that you catch on.
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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ HOME COOKED MEAL — nanami kento
you bring itadori home for dinner & he gets to see a different side to kento
contents. aka you dig up some teenage photos of nanami, fem!reader, husband nanami, fluff, yuuji being your adopted son, i haven't watched the new ep (& i won't) but there is enough nanami angst so i am here to fix that — 1.7k
when you got ready to leave the school, your jacket on and bag tugged over your shoulder, you passed yuuji itadori in the halls, his expression suspiciously similar to a kicked puppy.
yuuji perked up a bit as you walked by, offering you a small smile and a wave. and though you considered heading on home for the night, eager to see your husband, you slowed, hesitant to leave the poor kid all alone.
“everything okay, yuuji?” you asked, frowning as he rested his elbows on his knees, studying a stain on the floor of the school.
“hm?” the teenager glanced up, eyes bright and wide. his sweet smile was back on his face, so innocent and kind. for someone who had been through so much already, he was more caring than many people that you’d met in your life. “oh, everything’s fine. everyone’s just out on missions, so i feel a little…” he pulled up one shoulder in a shrug. “useless.”
you knew it must have been hard for him, being a student that wasn’t quite like the others, having to train a little differently, adapt differently. but yuuji took it in stride, and he handled it better than any normal person would.
with a nod, you secured your bag around your other shoulder, shifting your feet. “it’s just going to be you here tonight, then?”
he hummed, sticking his hands in his pockets as he leaned back against the wall. “i think so. some of the others might be around, but they’re resting up.”
“oh.” though you were certain yuuji had no qualms about spending an evening on his own, the thought of it made you feel like you were leaving a kitten out in the rain. almost pitiful.
yuuji waved before you could say another word, smiling, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “have a good night! i’ll see you tomorrow.”
the car ride was spent listening to yuuji tell you story after story, the boy opening up to you in a way that he hadn’t quite related to any of the other sorcerers, even gojo.
you smiled to yourself, enjoying his stories as you wondered how to tell kento that you were bringing your student home for dinner.
there was still a bridge to cross between them, and though you knew they both liked the other more than they let on, kento hadn’t quite connected to the boy like he wanted to.
you hoped that by inviting him over, yuuji would see that kento, truly, wasn’t as intense as he let on. he was sweet, caring, and he did have a sense of humor… even if gojo didn’t really believe that.
you led yuuji into the house, and stopped him when you heard the sound of kento in the kitchen. his mission had ended earlier than yours, and he’d offered to cook tonight; there would be more than enough food for the three of you.
“i’ll be right back,” you said, tapping yuuji on the shoulder. “let me go tell kento you’re here.”
you’d considered letting your husband know before you arrived, but you hadn’t wanted him to protest. kento would try to make a fuss of having a guest over, even if it was only yuuji, and he certainly didn’t care about formalities.
your heart skipped when you reached kento, his back turned, finishing up the meal that was steaming on the stove. even just standing in the threshold of the kitchen, you were overwhelmed with all of your love for him.
but it didn’t take much… it never had. you’d always been sickeningly in love with nanami kento.
your footsteps were soft as you snuck up behind him. “kento,” you said, just above a whisper, snaking your arms around his waist. you kissed the muscles between his shoulder blades, listening to the steady thrum of blood pumping through his body.
“hi, sweetheart.” he’d heard you approach, and he turned, eyes softening when he glanced at you over his shoulder. “everything okay at the school?”
you nodded, squeezing him tighter. even though you’d seen him just a few hours prior, it felt like a long time—time apart when you were battling curses always dragged as you worried for each other’s safety. “did your mission go okay?” you asked.
he took your hands from around his waist, bringing them to his lips softly. “everything went fine. dinner’s almost ready so—” then, he noticed your guilty expression, one that you were clearly horrible at hiding. “is something wrong?”
you smiled innocently. “no! i just… brought a guest.”
kento’s eyebrows raised, his smiling falling quickly. “well, you could’ve told me before.” he sighed, shaking his head as he turned around to face you.
“sorry, i thought i’d surprise you.”
kento’s lips drew into a thinner line. “honey, please tell me gojo satoru is not in my house right now. he’s not welcome here anymore, because the last time he almost destroyed our fucki—” kento glanced up, his words falling away as he glanced over your shoulder. “itadori. hello. i didn’t realize you were there.”
you turned, releasing kento as yuuji gawked back at you. he’d caught in such a loving embrace with kento. yuuji’s normally stoic teacher was in the middle of swearing, blonde hair tumbling over his forehead. kento had replaced his suit with casual wear, and his contacts had been taken out. in place of them were wire-rimmed glasses.
“nanamin!” yuuji gasped. “you look so different.”
“yes, well, i apologize for my apperance.” kento sighed, looking at you from the corner of his eye. “i wasn’t aware we were having guests.”
“one guest. its just yuuji,” you said, poking him in the middle of the chest as his professional tone returned, so easily taking over. “i don’t think he cares what you’re wearing.”
“no, i don’t!” yuuji backtracked, eyes wide as he shuffled forward. “no, you look cool, you don’t look so…”
kento raised his eyebrows, amused, even if yuuji couldn’t detect the humor in his expression. “so what?”
the boy’s cheeks turned pink, embarrassed as he rubbed the back of his neck. “um—”
“you don’t look like you’ve got a stick up your ass.” you said, voicing yuuji’s obvious thoughts as you kissed kento on the cheek with a short laugh. of course, it was only to embarrass him further in front of his student.
kento feigned a scowl, but didn’t push you away, his gaze firmly planted on yuuji. “that’s because i try to keep my relationships at work strictly professional.”
“really?” yuuji grinned, stuffing his hands back in his pockets, his posture relaxing as he grew more comfortable in your home. “not very professional to marry someone you work with, is it?”
you laughed loudly, already caring so deeply for the boy that you’d known for such a short period of time.
“that was certainly an accident,” kento muttered, but his fingers lingered on your spine, tracing each of the bones. “i’ll have you know we were not working together when we got together.”
“really?” yuuji’s curiosity spiked. “how long have you been together, then?”
you thought back to when you were teenagers, when kento had a haircut that he had since regretted, and smiled mischievously. reaching into your pocket, you pulled out your phone and scrolled through old photos, back from when you were just kids, the images grainy and of much lower quality than the ones from your recent vacation.
“hey, don’t show him those!” kento protested. he reached for your phone, but you scrambled under his arm, stretching your hand out to give yuuji the device. “itadori, don’t—” kento’s voice held a hint of panic, his cheeks hot with embarrassment as he grabbed you around the waist, trying to stop you from giving yuuji the phone.
but it was already in yuuji’s hands, and you laughed loudly, knowing that while you looked a little more awkward than you did now, your appearance had changed near as drastically as kento’s.
yuuji squinted his eyes at a sixteen year old nanami, blond hair long enough to reach his eyes, dressed in an all black ensemble, an earbud in one ear. kento was hardly smiling, but you beamed next to him in the photo, dressed more childishly than you were now, but just as pretty. the image from when you still fumbled around each other, unsure how to admit that you were both in love.
a roar of laughter left yuuji as kento’s expression fell, and he released you, snapping the phone out of itadori’s palm. “that’s you, nanamin? no way. how did you…” yuuji glanced between you, squinting his eyes. “well, i guess looking at you now it makes sense.”
“i know,” you agreed, covering your smiles with your palms. “we looked a little silly together back then. i saw the potential in him, but satoru certainly loved to make fun of us, didn’t he, ken?”
“i have absolutely no desire to relive those days.”
yuuji laughed. “you were just like fushiguro, i bet!”
“scarily similar,” you agreed, as kento rolled his eyes beside you, putting your phone in his pocket to keep you from scavenging any older photos to share with the kid. “and he still loves to listen to—”
“don’t finish that sentence or i’ll save this dinner all for myself.”
yuuji eyes flew up to his hairline, but you just snorted, knowing that kento’s threats were about as scary as a puppy.
“he’s still sensitive about it,” you whispered to yuuji. “gojo and his friends made fun of him all the time.”
“oh really. just me?” kento retorted under his breath.
“you must have been pretty popular, then!” yuuji grinned. “if you were friends with gojo. he said all the girls in school loved him!”
kento made an irritated sound, stirring the spoon roughly against the pot. “well, satoru is the last person you should listen to. he has an ego bigger than the sun. and my wife is leading you astray. she was not similar to satoru, she was painfully shy, and it took weeks for either of us to talk to each other.” kento took the pan off the stove, peering over his shoulder at you. “and she is very lucky i love her too much to dig up any embarrassing stories of her.”
“well, stories about me aren’t that interesting anyway.” you laughed, pointedly turning your back to kento. “yuuji, the good news is, i’ve got some more photos in kento in the old photo books. let’s go see them!”
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[◉°] … NANAMI KENTO & Y/N BEING A COUPLE FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT… 429k views
⁺ 🧃 ♡ ₊﹒ ⌣
꩜: actor!nanami x actress!reader
⤷ a short compilation of y/n & nanami moments!
sfw, fluff, accidental kisses, ooc nanami kinda
. art credits to @/osusiudon on twitter
masterlists
*
౨ৎ first clip
“whereee is nanamiiii?” you whine, filming yourself as you walk around the set, trying to find your favourite cast member. you walk through a door. “nanamiii-oh there he is..”
you look surprised and then you tell the camera, “shhhh..nanami is asleep..”
you tiptoe towards where he lays passed out on a couch with his costume goggles right beside him. you turn the camera around to face nanami, his mouth agape as little snores passed through.
“awwww.. he looks so cute..”
you put the camera close to his face, making nanami look funny. “haha..i’m so keeping this-”
nanami snorts suddenly and shifts in a rapid movement, shocking you and making you drop your phone on his poor face.
“ahh!” you cry. fumbling ensues before you get your camera upright again, pointing it at a now awake, disappointed looking nanami, sitting up on the couch as he stares at you blankly. his hair is messy, tie askew and his eyes tired.
“sorry nanami…did i wake you??”
“…”
“…”
nanami sighs and rubs his eyes. “i don’t know _____. did you barge in here, record me and drop your phone on my face?”
“…oops?”
nanami stares at you some more and then you pat his head in apology.
“sorry, nanamin…”
he sighs again. “why are you like this…”
౨ৎ second clip
the paparazzi secretly filmed you and nanami exiting a store (which they had followed you both to). now of course, fans criticised said paparazzi, but after seeing the video themselves…they couldn’t be all that sad about it.
you and nanami walk out of the automatic doors, arms linked and nanami carries the shopping bag.
you’re eating your little treat, strolling with nanami to the sidewalk when he points to your shoes, noticing that your laces are undone.
he speaks and you just shrug, continuing to eat, uncaring of your unlaced shoes that are a hazard.
nanami has you hold the grocery bag temporarily and then kneels down and ties your laces securely, all the while you chew on your food and smile down at him.
he stands up and takes the bag from you to carry once more. you inaudibly talk before linking arms with him again and resting your head on his shoulder while you both walk away.
౨ৎ third clip
the director yells cut and you are immediately running towards nanami and throwing your arms around his shirtless waist, careful to avoid the very intricate, realistic body paint covering half of his body.
“nanami! please don’t dieeeee!” you cry, looking up at him, “who’s going to be my emotional support actor?”
nanami huffs and pats your back, “_____…i won’t disappear..i’ll still be on the set…”
“it’s not the same!” you grumble into his chest. “it’s like you died for real!”
“no it’s not. i’ll visit everyday until this series ends.”
“really?” you look up at him, eyes glossy, “you better not be lying. promise?”
“yes, i promise.” he sighs fondly.
“okay..”
still hugging him, you turn to look at the camera and blatantly check out his shredded torso and thick, strong arms. nanami just stands there, confused.
you rest your head on one of his pecs, looking at the camera and smiling. “i get to do this everyday, you know.”
nanami scoffs and shakes his head at you. you are unbelievable.
౨ৎ fourth clip
you and the a few members of the cast of jujutsu kaisen had agreed to play a game of “silent library”for charity and nanami had agreed to play too, which shocked both the cast and the fans considering nanami rarely participated in games like this.
nanami has struck luck so far but it runs out on the sixth round.
the cards are handed out and suspense rises when you all quickly flip them over.
you groan out loud before slapping a hand over your mouth when you see that you’ve received the death card.
looking around, you notice that nanami and gojo also share the same card, and you point at them confused, while the members who are safe sigh in relief and thank god.
nanami closes his eyes and gojo slumps in his chair dramatically, making a weak noise in his mouth. you snort. you’re quickly hushed.
the name of the game is presented, “suck and blow”, and poorly stifled chuckles ring around the room. you rub your eyes, already dreading what’s about to come.
gojo eyes you, making a come hither motion with his long finger and swear at him silently. nanami is silent and looks between the two of you blankly.
the aim of the game? all three players must pass plastic card between them with only their lips.
your head falls onto the table, gojo is grinning and nanami is, as always, sighing.
the three of you sit on stools, with yourself insisting on being in the middle.
“i could’ve sworn i’ve had a dream just like this…” gojo whispers and nanami is leaning all the way around to smack the back of his head. gojo gasps and utahime scolds at him to shut his mouth.
the plastic card is given to gojo and the timer begins. he sucks it to his lips, cheeks hollow and he looked very stupid. gojo grabs your head and presses the card to your lips, making it seem like you are both kissing. you grunt and begin smacking the side of his face. suppressed laughter can be heard around you as you forcefully pull away from gojo.
you purse your lips, holding the plastic card on them as best as you can and turning to face nanami. he leans in, ready to get this over with.
it happened so fast.
nanami’s face is close to yours as you move to transfer the plastic card to his lips..and then the card falls.
it falls and you’re kissing nanami for half a second.
you gasp and pull back, embarrassed and covering your face.
you hear a squeal, a loud gasp and shocked laughter as you drown in shame. nanami sits there, fiddling, not knowing what to do with his hands and his face is clearly pink.
gojo teases you both to no end and the timer is already up.
it’s safe to say you all lost that round.
౨ৎ fifth clip
nanami is forced to go on a talk show (as he claims his manager made him do it ).
his responses are perfect and polite - nanami clearly has some sort of media training or an upper class background of some sort. it’s like nothing could catch him off guard whatsoever.
nanami is talking and then, the host interrupts. “are you and _____ dating?”
the audience chuckles and nanami is caught off guard. “wh-what?” nanami breathes out, a blush rising from his neck to his cheeks. “what?”
“are you and _____ dating?”
“no…” nanami clears his throat, gulping, “no of course not…”
“what do you mean “of course not?” do you not like _____?”
“what? of course i like-” nanami cuts himself off with a deep sigh and the crowd laughs at his embarrassment and fluster. “_____…_____ is a lovely woman, she’s a respected colleague, a valued friend, she’s-”
“well since you like her so much, let’s bring her out!” the host flings his arm out in the direction of the entrance stairway, “give a warm welcome to _____!”
“?”
the crowd is screaming as you walk in, waving at them with a warm smile on your face and sit next to nanami.
nanami looks at you, face red. “i-”
“don’t let him stop you.” you say, referring to the host’s interruption and the cheers erupting from the sea of people. “keep talking about me!”
nanami sighs. “shit…”
౨ৎ sixth clip
you’re being interviewed on the red carpet by a boisterous, joyful middle aged lady who asks you many questions, one of them being, “fuck, marry, kill”.
“okay fuck, marry, kill with getou suguru, nanami kento and gojo sa-”
“easy,” you cut in, not even hearing the rest of the question, “fuck getou, marry nanami and kill gojo. easiest question i’ve had so far!”
on the other end of the carpet, nanami is being asked the same questions except with actresses, one of them being you.
“fuck marry kill - utahime iori, _____ or shoko ieiri?!”
“marry _____, fuck utahime and kill shoko. goodnight.” he abruptly walks away, not even waiting for the interviewer to respond and leaves them flabbergasted.
*
a/n: feel like i rambled a lot in this one..oh well. also i’m not accepting requests for actor!nanami right now🤗🩷
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AIR THAT COOCHIE OUT! — NANAMI KENTO
minors, ageless and blank blogs dni.
content: nfsw; smut; afab!f!reader; porn w no plot; cunnilingus; fingering; unprotected sex (oops); facial.
w.c: 1.3k
n/a: nanami reacting to you not wearing panties <3 reader is a freak for that ngl. this was supposed to be a multiheadcanon but i got a huge block and couldn't finish the last two, i might post them if i ever get back the inspo. not proof read! any interaction with this post is very much appreciated! :b
"No panties?" Nanami says after lifting your dress up. The sight of your bare pussy greeting him already was a surprise for him, a very pleasant one.
"You don't like it?" You stare at him with doe eyes and a subtle pout on your lips, wagging your ass to coax him into touching you. You've been craving your husband all day since he left for work -- time felt agonizingly slower than usual while waiting for him to come back; you even thought of going to his work at some point but finally decided against it. Wouldn't it be nicer to be welcomed by your wife, all hot and bothered for you?
"What do you mean? Of course, I do; it's just-" Nanami sighs, placing his firm hand on the soft skin of your ass, massaging it gently. He laughs softly, kneeling down to face your pussy, "I don't know what to do with you, you naughty little thing," he says, planting a kiss on your puffy lips, earning a soft mewl from you.
His mouth is gentle to you, always taking his sweet time to lavish in your juices, eating you out so sensually words falter to describe how sexy he looks pussy drunk.
You moan softly, murmuring how good his tongue lapping at your cunt feels and to not stop. Your husband brings your ass closer to his face, the warm and heavy breaths he exhales sending a shiver down your spine. This is just what you needed, you think, a good pussy sucking by your husband as his thumb circles your clit.
Drenched in your essence, Nanami pulls away for only an instant, parting your folds open with two of his thick fingers, your tight little hole clenching around nothing, enticing him to shove them inside. He glides his fingers inside your ringed muscles, drawing a cute moan from you and begins to pump them slowly, providing enough stimulation for you to feel good but not enough to cum.
Your husband always thought you looked lovely with your face scrunched up, his name delicately falling from your lips. He leans down to suck on your clit, the tip of his tongue flicking on the sensitive bud, "feels good?" he asks, the corners of his lips curving into a smug smirk, though he already knows the answer. He knows he's doing a great fucking job at pleasuring you - your walls clamping and ambitiously sucking his fingers gives it away.
"Mhm- yeah-" you hum, shutting your eyes as his fingers curl inside you, teasing your sweet spot. The arch of your back deepens as you search to feel his index and middle finger deeper within your pussy, soft sighs escaping your mouth as his thrusts increase in pace. Nanami flips you to lay on your back and latches his mouth back on you, making sweet love to your cunt.
You trap him between your thighs; your hand cups and fondles your breast while the other one reaches to run your fingers through his golden hair, tugging it as you feel that familiar heat spread over your body. Your husband's ministrations on you soon enough make you reach ecstasy - a thread of curses falls from your lips as you gush and your walls flutter around his appendages.
Nanami chuckles and presses soft kisses on the side of your thighs, nipping at the smooth skin as he patiently waits for you to come down from your high.
"Hngh- Kento..." you mumble, the post-ecstatic smile of someone who has just been fuck divinely plastered on your face. Despite just orgasming, you know this isn't over yet, at least not on your end. This was only the entree, now for the main course.
Nanami hovers over you and brings his soaked fingers over your mouth, prying you to open it. A sound of satisfaction escaped his throat, his pupils dilating at the obscene sight of your tongue swirling and lapping on his fingers, cleaning the remnants of your orgasm from them. One of your hands trails down to palm at the prominent bulge in his slacks, drawing a low hiss from him.
"You tease," Nanami breathes, pulling his fingers out of your mouth to replace them with his mouth instead, the taste of your sweet cunt still on his tongue. He kisses you just as lusciously as he previously ate you out, cocking his head to the side to deepen the kiss and sliding his hand to support the back of your head.
You decide to be more naughty, biting his lower lip and tracing it with your tongue as your hand continues to caress his member over his clothes. Nanami can feel your mischievous smile on his lips and curses between kisses. There is no way he can get enough of your antics. His lips descend from yours, slowly tracing a path from your mouth to your neck, depositing wet kisses on your skin that bristles at their contact. "I'm sorry, love. I know you like it from the back, but I want to look at your pretty face this time," he says, loosening his tie and tossing it somewhere in the room.
Your husband helps you to finally take your dress off, only to discover you didn't wear any bra either. 'Of course, she wouldn't,' Nanami thinks, though he can guess you already knew what he was thinking by the vamp look you give him while biting your bottom lip. He has to hold back a laugh at how impatient you're being, hastily unbuckling his belt and tugging down his slacks along with his underwear, his hard cock springing out of its confinements.
Before you can engulf his cock in your mouth, Nanami pushes you back on the mattress, bringing your legs to rest on their shoulders and lifting your hips to put a pillow under them. He aligns himself with your entrance, teasing you a bit by nudging your needy pussy with his tip and gliding it over your drenched fold to poke at your swollen clit.
You let out a soft cry, enough for him to finally sink into your heat. The burning feeling of his cock stretching your walls make your jaw slack, gasping for air. Your toes curl and draw a lengthy moan as he bottoms out, the pillow underneath your hips angling them for him to reach deeper.
Nanami babbles a bunch of curses as his hips begin to snap against yours, his hefty balls slapping on your ass at each thrust. Your muscles throb and squeeze around him, driving him into a hazy state of delirious lust. "Shit- You feel so fucking good," he huffs. He's fucking glad he got to claim your tight cunt before anyone else got to put their paws on her. "So fucking nice to me, so perfect."
His fat mushroom head gets to bully your sweet spot a couple times. Still sensitive from your previous orgasm, you cum earlier than expected, letting a loud cry of his name as your walls contract and spasm around his girth. Your back arches off the bed, the intense climax stealing your breath away.
Nanami lets a guttural groan and gives a mean squeeze to one of your tits, letting his head fall back and his eyes close as he chases his climax. "Fuck- I'm close. Where d'you want it, baby?"
As much as you wanted him to blow his load in your womb, you knew you couldn't risk getting pregnant now. "Face- In my face," you mewl out, your teeth latching at your bottom lip to stifle the loud moans that threatened to come out.
He pulls out of you and begins to stroke his dick, the veins adorning his cock throb on his fist as warm ropes of semen spurt out of his urethra, landing on your fucked out face. Nanami groans, his half-lidded eyes staring at your pretty face, wincing and glazed in his seed. He'd take a picture if he had his phone on him, "so fucking cute," he breathes, pulling back to kiss the corner of your lips. "Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"
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♡₊˚☀️・₊✧ 𝗻𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶'𝘀 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 & 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗶𝗱𝗻'𝘁 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 ♡₊˚☀️・₊✧
: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 he's obsessed to the max 𖥔 ceo x baker 𖥔 grumpy x sunshine 𖥔 she talks a lot x he listens a lot 𖥔 spoils the literal shit out of you 𖥔 mention of parental death 𖥔 major fluff 𖥔 sexual content in vague details 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 super soft nanami 𖥔 close proximity 𖥔 he loves kissing the fuck out of you
: ̗̀➛ words: 7.7k
: ̗̀➛ notes: you guys are so sweet for supporting my toji fanfic which is why i wanted to write another and this time its about my husband, the father of our children, the man who deserves every beautiful thing in this world. if you enjoy my work, please leave a comment, like, and reblog! thank you & ily. enjoy!
Nanami Kento entered your bakery at exactly six o' clock.
You carefully observed the moments he dedicated to perusing the array of pastries, the vibrant mountain of macaroons, and the freshly baked, warm casse-croûte that you unfailingly prepared for him when he clocked out. There was a tender quality to his countenance, noticeable in the slight release of tension between his brows as the soft, buttery flakes dissolved on his tongue in your presence. Without fail, he consistently left a generous tip in your travel jar, dedicated to a solo trip to Malaysia.
"Did you know they've got this thing about not wearing yellow in Malaysia?" you mentioned during your initial meeting, eyeing the distinctive black-dotted tie worn by the stoic salaryman. "Well, not that your tie would get you in trouble; it's not entirely yellow. In fact, I think it's perfect as it is, just like your hair, which also has a touch of yellow.”
Please cut your tongue off.
Anticipating a polite nod and perhaps a slightly regretful five-dollar tip left in the jar, you were taken aback when he queried, “Why is that?”
“Oh, uh . . . a bunch of protesters wore the color during a demand for their prime minister to step down," you stumbled, feeling a twinge of embarrassment for veering off into an unintentional crash course. Dropping trivia about Malaysia wasn't exactly the same as flirting. "So, it's kind of become a symbolism for protest and, well, threat. I read it in a book once. I don't know if it's a legitimate law, though."
“Do you like reading?” he asked, still interested in conversing with you. “Most people would Google information.”
“I like reading. It’s easier to retain information that way.”
Nanami acknowledged your gesture with a nod of gratitude as he accepted the casse-croûte and exited your bakery. Anticipating that he might not return due to his reserved nature and your awkward attempts at compliment-flirting, you were surprised to find that he was, in fact, full of surprises.
Nanami became a regular visitor. Day after day, for the past year, he arrived at precisely six o' clock. He continued his routine, whether he purchased a box of pastries, a pair of bagged bread loaves, or simply a casse-croûte and a small cup of milk coffee. You always prepared his order five minutes ahead of time, just in case you were occupied with other customers.
"Enjoy!" you chirped, casting a warm smile at the customer you just served as the bakery slowly emptied, leaving only Nanami browsing the delightful array of small cakes. "Good evening, Mr. Nanami!"
Nanami raised his head in your direction. "Good evening." He finally settled on the black forest cake from the open freezer and brought it to the counter.
"Special occasion?" you inquired as you rang him out, sneakily not charging him for the casse-croûte and coffee. There was a special occasion of your own that you were eager to share, hanging from the tip of your tongue.
"An intern's birthday."
"Sounds fun!" You had been saving up for your birthday present since summer, and Nanami had played a significant role. "When's your birthday?"
"July third."
Your eyes widened with surprise. "No way! Mine is July sixth. We’re summer babies."
“Happy belated birthday,” he said, fishing for his wallet, gaze barely meeting yours.
"Same to you." Offering the sandwich and coffee, you extended them towards him. "Consider it a belated birthday treat."
Nanami’s brows crinkled. “I cannot accept.”
"Why not? It's a gift." You slid the items closer with a subtle nudge, leaving him little room to refuse. "And you've given me a priceless gift, Mr. Nanami." Your eyes hinted at the tip jar's location, which now lay empty.
“Were you robbed?” he asked, concern evident in his voice.
“What—? No! Oh my god. You’re so funny.” A chuckle escaped behind your fist, and he observed you momentarily before glancing away. "I'm heading to Malaysia next week!"
Nanami gave a subtle nod. Although his lack of a more animated response disappointed you, you understood that shortness was his nature. "Congratulations.”
"Thank you, Mr. Nanami. Your generous tips really made a difference. They covered half of our trip.”
“Our? It’s not a solo trip?”
You let out a little nervous laugh. Should you really be telling Nanami about your crippling love life? Would he even be interested? Well, he seemed to listen carefully when you talk. Maybe he wouldn’t care, but you really needed someone to talk to about this. Unfortunately, all your friends were too busy with their marriages to care.
“Well?” Nanami prompted.
"Right, sorry. It's just—I've actually been seeing someone. Funny enough, we met in a Facebook group for solo travelers. He lives in a nearby town.”
Unexpectedly, Nanami's first question caught you off guard. "Can you trust him?" His concern surfaced, causing you to pause. "I'm only asking because you met this man online. You can't trust strangers on the internet."
"Thank you, Mr. Nanami, but I’m capable enough to know about stranger danger," you said with a funny smile, dismissing his parental concern. "Besides, we’ve gone on a few dates over the past month."
Nanami's frown remained intact. "Correct me if I’m wrong, but are you paying for him, too?"
"Yes."
“Why?” Nanami asked, firmly placing his palms on the counter, making it clear he wasn't leaving until he was convinced you wouldn't get in trouble during your Malaysian adventure.
"What do you mean 'why'?"
His mouth opened but then closed into a thin line, his forehead lines deepening. "It’s not my place to tell you what’s right and what isn’t—"
"Yes, you’re right about that," you interrupted.
"—but this is bordering on recklessness. You cannot use your trip’s money to pay for a man you’ve known for a mere month. Why is he even in the traveler’s group if he cannot afford to pay for himself?"
"Mr. Nan—"
"You are being scammed."
Your teeth clenched together. You rarely got impatient. Years in the hospitality industry and dealing with misogynistic tenants didn't break you. Even setting up your bakery and almost draining your savings didn't dim your optimism.
But getting scolded by someone who barely spoke more than five sentences to you in a whole year of being a regular? That's pushing it.
He didn't know you or Toji, the guy you're seeing. He didn’t understand how much you appreciated him accompanying you. So what if you covered his share of the trip expenses? Toji promised to pay you back, and he's been paying the bills for your dates. They might not be fancy, but it's the gesture that matters.
Sure, Nanami chipped in some money, and you're thankful for that. But he has no right to question you. Other people also contributed to your travel fund; it's not like he single-handedly financed the whole trip. You appreciated his support, but he was not in a position to lecture you.
With a sigh, you managed to contain your frustration and said, "Have a great rest of your night, Mr. Nanami.”
Nanami's frustration was palpable as he stood firm, his gaze piercing through the windows of your soul. “I suggest you take my advice into serious consideration. It would greatly upset me if you had the chance to visit one of your favorite countries taken from you.”
You didn't bother watching him go. Instead, your discovery awaited you at the counter—the money for the coffee and casse-croûte lay there, accompanied by a crumpled yellow note that had slipped to the floor. Moving around the counter, you picked it up and smoothed out its wrinkles.
What greeted you was your own name scrawled across the sticky note, repeated around fifty times, the letters overlapping in a chaotic dance. Some were hastily scratched out, while others were executed with perfect cursive precision. You didn’t know what to make of it.
During your confusion, a new customer walked in. Quickly, you pocketed the note, focused on carrying on with your day despite the lingering frustration that Nanami's cryptic message had left in its wake.
Toji never showed up.
You waited for him for two agonizing hours, extending the torture even more after your flight had taken off. It dawned on you that he likely didn't bother getting a ticket. He probably pocketed the money you sent him and vanished into thin air. Every attempt to reach him failed miserably—your calls were forwarded, and the fifth one hammered the heartbreaking truth that he had blocked your number. To compound your misery, you sent him a string of text messages that refused to deliver your pain. You didn't even know where he lived, as your encounters were always in the obscure locations of your budgeted dates.
The thought of reporting him to the police crossed your mind, accusing him of theft, but the lack of photographic evidence left you helpless. To make matters worse, he hated taking pictures, and you were uncertain if the name he provided was even real. All that remained was a flicker of hope that you might cross paths with the bastard and unleash your pent-up rage with a hard kick to his dick.
With a heavy heart, you gathered your strength, brushed away the tears until not a single trace remained on your lashes, and lugged your suitcase and carry-on outside the airport, hoping to hail a cab.
The idea of facing the upcoming days at work felt agonizing, goading you to spend them in the isolation of your shabby apartment. You were engrossed in a depressing routine—microwaved dinners, aimless hours on the couch, and a marathon of old cable TV shows.
As hunger struck again, you contemplated your options. Baking seemed like a possibility, but motivation had abandoned you. Pasta could be an option, but the lack of noodles and tomato sauce made it impractical. So, you settled for the one thing that required no ingredients: crying.
At least that was free.
Despite the inner turmoil, you mustered the strength to shoulder your overcoat, sporting your fleece pajamas printed with candy canes and well-worn second-hand boots.
The short walk to the corner store felt longer than usual, the biting cold making you clutch your threadbare coat tighter. Your teeth chattered in protest as you entered, and the rush of warm air was a momentary relief against the chill. Fingers numb, you mindlessly reached for familiar comfort snacks—chips, chocolate milk, anything to dull the ache.
A hand much larger than yours beat you to the last packet of croissants.
“Ah, sorry.” You let it go. “All yours—” You choked as you looked up, and up, at Nanami staring at you wide-eyed, his hazel eyes flickering at a rapid speed as if he were hallucinating your presence. Your face flushed with embarrassment, and the weight of the past five days crammed upon you—his uncanny prediction, your own naivety, and the sting of being swindled. “Mr. Nanami . . . ”
“Aren’t you supposed to be in—”
“Good night.”
With a dismissive shake of your head, you left the basket on the counter, mumbled a quick apology, and retreated back into the biting cold.
You’ve faced tons of humiliating moments—slipping in front of customers, your purse strap getting snagged in a door and dragging you back, and that one unforgettable instance when a little boy labeled your eyebrows as caterpillars in front of a line of onlookers. Yet, none of those incidents could hold a candle to the awkwardness of bumping into the very man who had warned you about the ill-fated choice of paying for a stranger's trip—stranger now—when it was supposed to be your trip.
You felt a firm grip on your wrist, making your restless pacing suddenly stop.
Startled, you turned around to find a pair of expressionless hazel eyes and a slightly out-of-breath figure. Now is not the time to ogle Mr. Nanami’s broad shoulders, you idiot!
Releasing your wrist, he handed over a white, plastic bag. With a raised eyebrow, you peered inside to inspect its contents. It held everything from your shopping basket, including the last packet of croissants. Even more unexpected, he had paid for it all.
“I’ll pay you back tomorrow,” you assured, your eyes already scanning for the nearest ATM, just in case you forgot. "But for now." You pulled out the packaged croissants and extended them toward him. Your body was shaking, not because of November but because of how you were scammed after being forewarned by Nanami. “Please. Take it.”
He took your small hand in both of his, the warmth immediately melting the tension in your body. “So cold.”
A soft giggle escaped you at the obvious observation, and you placed your free hand on top of his. "So warm." Sniffling, tears welled up in your eyes. "You know what else is warm? The sun. And it's yellow. It's so yellow."
“Factually speaking, it is white.”
You wiped an arm across your nose. “What?”
“The sun. It’s white. It’s only yellow in children's books.”
You weren't about to argue with the guy who vindicated your slip-ups. Still, given the circumstances, you wished he'd soften the bluntness and let you bask in the illusion that the sun was a simple shade of yellow.
"I've always loved the color yellow," you mumbled. "Maybe getting scammed was a blessing. I'd probably get fined for wearing yellow otherwise. I couldn't afford to mess up on my trip. Besides, it all depends on the shade, right? Imagine how many fines I'd rack up just testing which shade of yellow suits me—"
Nanami tugged you close, capturing your lips with his.
A sharp intake of breath filled your lungs, eyes widening in surprise. Instinctively, your hands pushed him away, fingers grazing your tingling lips.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Fuck. I’m so sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. Don’t—Don’t worry. About it.” You tucked your lips in and tasted chocolate and mint—two of your favorite combinations. Nanami always seemed like the kind of man who would hate both flavors independently and dependently. “You’re okay. I mean—You’re okay in general. You’re not okay with kissing. You’re probably great, I’m sure.” Your tongue traced the curve of your lower lip, and Nanami’s eyes followed the motion. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”
You walked up to him, grabbed the lapels of his coat, and tugged him down a notch, your lips colliding with his.
Nanami's touch was calculated, his hand sailing onto your cheek, feeding warmth to your cold ear before vanishing into the labyrinth of your hair. Simultaneously, the other serpentined to the small of your back, his magnetic energy drawing you snugly against his chest. His warm tongue delicately swept across your lower lip, an unspoken cue that encouraged you to part your lips in response.
Nanami deepened the kiss, your tongues stroking against one another feverishly as if it were your last kiss. Who knows? Maybe it could’ve been. But the way he kissed with such desperation, releasing soft moans, not allowing you a moment to catch your breath, made you think that maybe this was just the start.
And you kissed him back just as needy.
If your hands slightly released their hold on his lapels, you'd gently cup the sides of his neck, rising on your tiptoes. And if your calves protested, you'd draw him down, wrapping your arms around his neck, your fingers entwining in his pale, golden locks. The taste of mint chocolate lingered on your lips, and a smile curved on your mouth as he stole a quick peck, pulling back just to gaze into your eyes for a moment before kissing you again.
You’re not sure how long you two stood and kissed there. Nanami was the one who always took the lead, savoring the taste of your pink, tender tongue, kissing your chilly cheeks and dewy eyes. The desire for each other made it hard to break away, yet the need for a breath of air was undeniable.
Finally, you decided to be the one to step back, signalling the end of your first kiss with him.
Your bottom lip tingled as you pulled it in, jaw aching from the infectious smile that had taken over your face. You couldn't help stealing glances at the tall man before you, who returned your gaze with a soft, almost imperceptible grin. Yet, in his eyes, under the gentle glow of the streetlight, you could see the excitement and joy of kissing you, twinkling brightly.
“I'm gonna—”
“I should—”
Both of you sighed; you with a soft chuckle, and him with a discreet throat-clearing.
“I've already missed quite a few workdays,” you said. “Gotta earn that dough if I want to make next month’s rent.” Nanami didn’t quite catch your bakery pun, but he nodded in agreement.
“Right,” you murmured, subtly veering to the side, putting on a little show as you started to walk away. You admitted it—you were a hopeless romantic. You secretly hoped for him to steal a kiss on your cheek and watch until you safely disappeared around the corner. “I’m off now.”
“Goodnight,” Nanami replied, subtly licking his lips for the sixteenth time. Yes, you were keeping count.
“Night-night.”
Nanami strolled down his end of the sidewalk. You followed suit, turning down your street.
Luck had only sometimes been on your side when it came to men and their romantic gestures. Oh well. At least you experienced a passionate kiss from one of your favorite customers. Asking for more seemed a bit too much—
A hand gently pressed against your back, and as you turned, it gracefully curved around your waist, drawing you in. Nanami caught your gasp and kissed you with an urgency that doubled, holding onto you as if his life depended on it, lifting you off your toes. Three sweet pecks later, he released you, both of your faces flushed.
"Get home safely," he whispered, walking away without a second glance.
That night, you couldn't help but giggle into your mascara-stained pillow.
The morning after, you were a whirlwind of joy and light, twirling through the bakery with trays of freshly baked pastries, replenishing boxes and take-out essentials. You greeted customers with an extra dose of sweetness, and to top it off, you even handed out a tray of delectable chocolate jam cookies. And you wore a yellow bow in your hair.
The oven beeped as the casse-croûtes finished baking, signaling their readiness for Nanami's arrival in just five minutes. You took special care in preparing his milk coffee, indulging in a quiet chuckle at your undeniable favoritism. Though the neighborhood bakery wasn't bustling with a large customer base, your attention was solely dedicated to him—your only regular as everyone else buzzed in the distant city an hour away.
With his coffee prepared and two casse-croûtes packed, you added a chocolate-mint cookie to the bag. Then, you decided to rearrange the shelves of gift baskets to pass the time.
Setting up the ladder, you ascended the shaky steps until you were eye to eye with the fifth shelf. Heights were never your forte, which, in hindsight, was another reason why flying to Malaysia was out of the question. The more you thought about being scammed, the more your heart wrenched from your lost trip. You’d again brought out your tip jar and prayed the odds were in your favor. Hell, maybe you’d ask Nanami to join you if you decided to take your relationship to the next level.
As you secured the bow on the basket, your gaze landed on the clock—6:30 p.m., and Nanami was a no-show.
Anxiety surged through you in an instant.
Did he leave you hanging? Maybe that kiss was a turnoff, and he chose to disappear rather than be upfront about finding you too overwhelming. Did your breath smell bad? Were you a terrible kisser? Or, worse, did something happen to him?
A torrent of worries flooded your mind, breaking through like a burst dam. Each imagined scenario seemed more nightmarish than the last, causing your head to spin. Recent events, like Toji's betrayal, fueled this self-doubt, made you question your intuition. While Nanami was clearly wealthy, consistently tipping a twenty each day, you found yourself questioning whether he had plans to use you for something else. As if that weren't enough, doubts crept in about your appearance and your optimistic, extroverted personality.
It started to make sense, didn't it? Nanami led a tranquil life, sticking to a routine of work and home, while you were a whirlwind of spontaneity—constantly buzzing with new ideas and discussions, unable to sit still or resist laughter at the silliest jokes. Everything seemed to fascinate you, yet nothing appeared to faze him. How could you have been so naive to entertain the thought—
“Good evening.”
“Ah!” you yelped at the sudden baritone intruding into your thoughts. Your foot, betrayed by the unexpected intrusion, lost its balance on the step. Your arms flailed in a desperate attempt to find stability as you teetered backward, the impending hazard of a severe concussion and potential spinal cord injury looming.
But just as you were prepared to shake hands with God, Nanami's powerful arms swooped in at the last possible moment. With a secure hold, he cradled you in a bridal style, and you clung to him like a shaking puppy, arms looped around his neck.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his breath slightly labored.
You gingerly peeled one eye open to peek at him. His expression was one of calm disorientation; eyebrows knit together while his lips maintained a straight, tight line.
"Yes," you whispered, soothed by his timely intervention.
Nanami steadied you back onto your feet but maintained a firm grip on your elbows. “Look at me.” As you did, he inspected each eye closely while keeping his hand steady on your left cheek. He checked below your jaw, down to your dusty palms, which he cleaned with his silk handkerchief. He also patted down your tousled hair. "Are you sure you're okay?"
“Mm-hmm.” You could cry from how gentle he was with you. “A-Are you okay?”
“I am now.” He took a composed breath and effortlessly retrieved his suitcase from the floor, brushing off invisible dust. “I apologize for being late. My . . . car broke down.”
"What? Oh my god! Do you need me to give you my mechanic's number? I promise he's not as bad as the Google reviews say. He's actually quite a sweet man. And he gives me a friends and family discount because my father was close with him." You beamed, and Nanami squinted his eyes as if the brightness of your smile momentarily blinded him, but he tried his best to reciprocate.
“Do your parents live here?”
You shook your head. “They passed away a while ago.”
“I apologize.”
"Don't be." You quickly switched subjects by fluttering towards the counter to pick up his items. “Tell me how your coffee tastes.” You turned around, adding, “I switched to a new brand of milk—”
Nanami pressed his lips against yours, momentarily freezing you. His seamless transition afterward could have fooled an onlooker into thinking you'd been married for years. "Thank you.” He took a sip and nodded thoughtfully. “It’s great. Everything you make is great.”
“Thanks,” you mumbled, sudden shyness enveloping you. From the kiss? The compliment? Him? You didn’t know at all. “Do you still need me to give you the mechanic’s number?”
“It’s all right. I had it fixed. Minor battery issue, that’s all.”
“Ah, okay. See, that’s why I prefer to walk.”
Nanami glanced elsewhere, nodding. “Then, would you like to walk with me after you’ve closed?”
“Oh.” A subtle flicker of surprise crossed your features. Nonchalantly, you brushed a strand of hair behind your ear before smiling warmly. “Of course, yes. I’d love to go on a walk with you. Where are we going? There are lots of cafés in a nearby shopping district. I know all the best places to take you to.” A grave thought struck you just then. “Oh, actually. Hmm.”
Curious, he tilted his head down, meeting your worried gaze. "What is it?"
"Well," you began, your thoughts taking a cautious turn, "you probably have a set time to be home unless you live nearby. In that case, we could spend the entire evening strolling around. Only if you're interested, of course."
Nanami’s lips twitched. “I live nearby.”
“Where?” You weren’t ashamed to have been so upfront. It was more of a precautionary measure.
And he didn't seem bothered, quickly revealing the familiar neighborhood you instantly recognized. It was a fifteen-minute walk from your own place.
"May I step out momentarily to make a call?" Nanami asked, pulling out his phone. It was the latest model you noticed—one that came out last week and mocked your own that was five versions older. “It will be quick.”
“By all means.” You had to fix your hair and make-up anyway.
Nanami nodded and exited the shop, leaving you to flee behind the counter. As you crouched down to check yourself in the small mirror tucked away in the lower drawer, you couldn't help but feel a warmth on your face from the unexpected collapse, the sweet, brief kiss, and his impeccable navy blue suit decorated with yellow cufflinks. Maybe a café was too casual for him; a restaurant might have been a more suitable choice. An expensive choice. However, you were adamant about not letting Nanami cover the entire cost.
Upon his return, five minutes later, you both settled at one of the three round tables in your bakery (he even pulled out your chair for you). Sipping on your coffees and enjoying the casse-croûtes and chocolate pastries, the conversation seemed somewhat one-sided. Yet, Nanami's aloof demeanor never made you feel inferior for dominating the dialogue. He listened to every word and vowel with his undivided attention, nodding alongside and adding in short sentences when he could relate to your childhood shenanigans.
"Wait," he interrupted, causing you to halt in your tracks. The sun cast a warm glow on his face, making his eyes narrow into slits, but God did he look handsome. He extended his hand and brushed a thumb near your lips, discovering a small chocolate smudge. Swiftly, he licked it clean and tidied up the area around your lips with a napkin. "Beautiful."
“What?”
Nanami was a deer in headlights. He sunk his head, beating himself up from murmuring his thoughts aloud—at least, that’s what you concluded. "You look beautiful," he declared with more assurance, his gaze on your face. "You are beautiful, Y/N."
Oh, my.
Your heart was going to claw itself out of your chest. You could cook an egg on your face from how heated it had gotten. In fact, you were burning hotter than the sun, which continuously made him squint and blink. “Thank you.”
He nodded twice, finishing the remnants of his coffee. Rising, he disposed of the cups and wrappers in the garbage bin, then extended a hand to help you stand. "I'll wait outside while you close up."
At a lightning pace, you ensured that everything in the bakery was safely unplugged and shut off. Grabbing your purse, you gave yourself a quick once-over in the mirror, adjusting your face and hair. Stepping outside, you meticulously locked the door and gates.
Without a word, Nanami entwined his fingers with yours, causing you to smile like an idiot at him. He maintained a straight, vigilant gaze, seemingly unresponsive as you wrapped yourself around his arm. A subtle smirk tugged at your lips when you felt his muscles flex.
You walked for hours, café-hopping and trying pastries, baked goods, and sweet drinks. Every time Nanami attempted to cover the expenses with his cash, you scolded him, insisting that since you had suggested the place, you should be the one to pay. It was a rule you had read about online, and all your friends stuck to it religiously. The thought of Nanami spending his hard-earned money on your interests made you feel incredibly guilty.
As a matter of fact, you were feeling guilty about tons of things. He told you he worked at an investment firm, which meant it was a nine-to-five, likely sporting a migraine he kept hidden, and now he was being dragged around the shopping district by you, forced to listen to you because he was a man who didn’t complain, wouldn’t complain, and long, story short, you wanted to die.
“Kento,” you muttered, removing your hand from his, goosebumps rippling on your skin.
“Yes, darling?”
Your chest felt like it was being clenched in a fist. “I'm . . . I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For making you do all this. For making you pay for everything. For dragging you around when you're probably on the verge of exhaustion." Avoiding his gaze, you fixed your eyes on the concrete beneath you. “I know I can be too much sometimes—well, all the time.” A self-deprecating chuckle escaped your lips. "Exes in my past relationships have made it clear. I get overly excited easily, crave attention like one needs oxygen, trust people too easily to the point of getting scammed, and, well, I don't bring anything particularly special to the table. I'm sorry, Kento. Maybe it's best if we just stay friends?”
Nanami’s soft fingers lifted your chin up. Your words absolutely shattered his face, leaving you to feel worse than before. His lips were parted into a frown, his brows were scrunched up, brown irises flickering like he couldn’t believe you said that. This was the most reaction he had given you in the year that you’ve known him.
“No,” he said.
You blinked the tears gathered at your waterline. “No?”
“No.” Nanami took a calming breath, closing his eyes. His forehead gently pressed against yours. “Please, let me be selfish for this once. For you. I can’t let you go—I won’t let you go."
"Kento—"
"I want to do this, Y/N. I want to pay for everything. I want you to drag me around because I’ll never be too tired for you.” Nanami drew back and cradled your sobbing face in his large hands. “I know I fail to show it, darling, but I love your excitement. I love paying attention to every detail of you because you’ve become my oxygen source. You’re a good, kindhearted woman, and anyone would be lucky to be seen by you. And you don’t have to bring anything to the table because there isn’t one dividing us, keeping us lengths apart.” His lips brushed your forehead, imprinting his words into your mind. "I want us to be more than just friends. I want us to be best friends. Lovers. In this life and the ones that follow."
You could explode.
Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, seeking support as if the ground beneath you was about to crumble. Yet, you knew he would catch you, just as before. He was so real, embracing you wholly, both of you breathing in each other's scents to confirm a human like this could exist. How grateful you were he stumbled into your bakery that one rainy night, and how grateful he was that you offered him free coffee and a casse-croûte while he was freezing and trembling. His presence brought life to your bakery, gave you something to look forward to when you were at your lowest, and you gave him . . . everything. You were his everything since the first day.
As the shared silence lingered, Nanami's phone shattered the moment, its noisy ring cutting through the haze. You instinctively stepped back, but he clung to your hand as if afraid you might slip away.
Never, Nanami Kento. You’re stuck with me.
When he took out his phone, you caught a glimpse of the contact name: Satoru (assistant).
Before you could process the fact Nanami had an assistant, he swiped right. “Yeah?”
The voice on the other end resonated with loud cheerfulness in the quiet alleyway. Nanami half-rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Very well. Leave it there. I’ll be there when I want to.”
The assistant chuckled and sang his goodbye, the cheerful tone abruptly cutting off as Nanami ended the call and slid his phone back into his pocket.
“Do all stockbrokers have assistants?”
He tilted his head. “I’m not a stockbroker.”
“Oh? I’m sorry. I assumed because you worked at an investment firm.”
“Yes, I was a stockbroker.” He nodded, warming your hand in his, then casually added, “But I own a firm now.”
Your brows hit your hairline. “That’s amazing!”
“Thank you. We have several locations around the country. Kento Investments. Have you heard of it?”
Heard of it? You were a client some time ago when you were starting your bakery. All you encountered were glowing reviews about their ethical practices, a refreshing leave from the scheming ways of most investment firms that had previously taken advantage of you. It stood out as the industry leader in your research, and the team was lovely in guiding you through the process, so much so that you even invited them to your grand opening.
"Ah, you have." Nanami grinned, gently tilting your chin upward and closing your gaping mouth. "Therefore, my darling, don't feel guilty about me covering the expenses. I'm quite secure in my position to support both of us for centuries."
All you could manage was a disbelieving chuckle as you rested your forehead against his chest. Taking it as an invitation, he embraced you, crowning you with kisses.
Lifting your head, you said, "There's something I want to get for you."
"What is it?"
Hand-in-hand, you pulled him back toward the bustling district, the sound of his deep laughter echoing in the air. Your own laughter naturally joined in.
As you strolled past a vendor selling accessories, your attention was drawn to an item you had briefly noticed earlier in your walk. Although you planned to purchase it the following day and surprise him in the afternoon, tonight felt like the perfect moment.
Politely approaching the elderly vendor, you asked, "Could I please try those on?" He handed you a pair of round sunglasses with a green tint to the lenses. Standing on your toes, you carefully placed the glasses on Nanami's nose, adjusting them to sit perfectly on the bridge. The sides of the spectacles featured a stylish steampunk design that complemented his narrow, sharp features. "Handsome.”
"I'll take it.” Nanami reached for his wallet. However, you were one step ahead, swiftly bringing out the spare change you had set aside in your coat pocket. You had already calculated the price, ready to outsmart him in this little game of charity.
“Y/N.”
“Thank you,” you said to the shop vendor, ignoring Nanami’s stare.
“Y/N.”
“Yes, darling?" You looped around his arm and began your stroll down the sidewalk. “Oh, come on. Let me be selfish and treat you once in a while.” You cut off his protests with a kiss.
He surrendered instantly.
Over the next four weeks, you didn’t realize how quickly you’d become comfortable with Nanami. Like clockwork, he would arrive at your bakery, patiently occupying a table until your duties with customers or decorating displays finished. Now resembling a vibrant florist shop, the bakery owed its transformation to Nanami's thoughtful gestures—bouquets of flowers in every shade of yellow, orange, and white became an amusing routine. As you arranged them in vases, you would burst into fits of giggles like a maniac.
You and him were like a Venn diagram, overlapping in unexpected places. He enjoyed non-fiction, classics, and history books; you immersed yourself in the world of romance and mystery novels. TV nights were a compromise between his love for documentaries and your penchant for anything sappy on Netflix, occasionally spicing things up with a true-crime documentary. His fascination with astronomy met your fixation with astrology, and surprisingly, he didn't scoff when you read the lines on his palms. Instead, he appreciated it just as much as you cherished his nightly photos of the moon and his ability to name the stars above.
At least, you were both Team Cats.
Nanami introduced you to his friends, including his quirky assistant Gojo, who had a habit of shamelessly flirting with you, seemingly just to get under Nanami's skin. However, your boyfriend was secure enough not to let it bother him. Yet, a trace of possessiveness would emerge during sex—when the two of you were entwined in bed, bodies bared and bathed in the aftermath of shared sweat.
Exiting the restaurant after a delightful dinner date, Nanami turned to you and suggested, "I'd like to invite you to my home tonight."
Finally, you thought, resisting the urge to dip your toes into the topic of visiting his home, especially considering he had been a frequent guest at yours.
The fact that he lived nearby had always puzzled you; he mentioned it casually yet never extended an invitation for a simple coffee or a chat on his welcome mat. Weekends saw him working from your living room, staying overnight, but on weekdays, he'd only spend a brief hour or two with you before heading home, a practice that seemed counterintuitive given his closeness. Despite the confusion, you hesitated to jeopardize your relationship by fishing too deeply.
So far, Nanami hadn't given you any reason to doubt him.
"Are you sure?" you asked cautiously.
"Absolutely, darling.” Nanami took your hand and planted a small kiss on the back of it. "I apologize for the delay. I've been having it . . ." He casually flicked up his sunglasses that had slipped. ". . . renovated."
“Oh, I see. Well, in that case, I’d love to!”
Nanami nodded and leaned down to kiss your cheek. “Thank you for being so patient. I know it was eating you alive. You're not exactly the master of hiding your emotions.” He gave you a small smile and kissed your cheek again.
You responded with a smile that crinkled your nose. "Just a bit anxious, that's all."
"Understandable.” He guided you toward his neighbourhood, exchanging a warm smile as you nestled against his arm. Observing the goosebumps on your skin and the faint shivers, he realized you had forgotten your cardigan. Without hesitation, he removed his blazer and draped it around your shoulders, helping you slip your arms through the sleeves and buttoning it up.
You took a deep breath, inhaling the pleasant scent from the collars. "You always smell so good."
Nanami bent down, kissing the side of your neck right above your racing pulse. "As do you," he murmured against your skin. "Always."
“Gosh, you're so flirty,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his midsection and burying your face in his chest.
“Come on now.”
You walked for another ten minutes, taking a five-minute pit stop to pet a stray cat before stopping in front of a towering residence building. It was one of those extravagant ones boasting a fountain in the lobby and a vigilant security guard who greeted Nanami with a two-finger salute.
Hand on your back, Nanami guided you toward the elevator with mirrors on all sides.
He exuded an air of sophistication in his neatly rolled-up black dress shirt, complemented by beige pants. His pale, blond hair was slicked back, a Rolex clasped his wrist, and veins corded his well-defined forearms. The sunglasses you had given him rested atop his head.
As Nanami caught your eyes on the reflective surfaces, a sudden blush warmed your cheeks. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” you whispered, fingers idly playing with the golden butterfly bracelet he had given you on the night he asked you to be his girlfriend. “I was just . . . God, you’re so beautiful. Sometimes, I think I’m dreaming of you. And I don’t want to wake up from it.”
Nanami released his grip on your hand, wrapping his arm around your waist. He tilted your chin upward and planted a lecherous kiss on your lips. As you stumbled backward, your back met the cool surface of a mirror, and you clung to his biceps. He continued kissing your jaw and nibbling at your neck.
“Ken—Wait, there’s a camera!”
“I own the building.”
Without allowing you to react, he kissed you fervently, his hands framing your face and his knee pressing between your legs. Your hips ground against the muscled surface, creating a heated friction that drew a moan from him.
The elevator dinged, signaling its arrival, but Nanami was undeterred. He refused to break the kiss. Lifting you effortlessly, he cradled you with a single forearm beneath your backside and your arms encircling his neck. Laughter echoed as you entered directly into the main corridor of his penthouse.
“Your front door is an elevator?” You marveled with an open jaw.
“Yes, it seems so.”
Oh, how you loved his monotonous replies.
Nanami gently placed you onto the expansive white surface of his couch, smoothly moving over your body to continue.
“I knew you were a clean freak,” you said between his kisses, “but your penthouse looks like it was bought this morning.”
“Two weeks ago.” He kisses down your neck, sideways toward your left shoulder. “That’s why I waited to invite you. Gojo was having the place decorated. I've installed a library for you, too. We can go book-shopping this weekend.”
"Wait, what?" You pushed him back by his chest, incredulous. "Hold on, hold on, hold on. You mean to tell me you moved in just two weeks ago?"
"Yes," he answered, tilting his head slightly perplexedly. "When you asked about my residence, I panicked and couldn't come up with a proper answer, fearing you might decline my invitation for a walk. So, I bought this building from the previous owner on the spot. There are also commercial benefits. Quite a strategic move, if you ask me." With that, Nanami resumed his attention, focusing on kissing your collarbones and skillfully lowering your dress, exposing your chest to him.
But you were still stuck on the subject like a pesky fruit fly. “But you don’t live here?”
“I don’t.” His mouth brushed over the mound of your left breast. “I live in Shibuya.”
“Shibuya? Kento, that’s an hour and a half away!"
"Hmm." He glanced up, mouth sucking at your nipple.
"You've been faithfully coming to my city every single day, all the way from Shibuya, for a whole year? You've been burning all that gas just to be with me?"
He broke away to say, "Gojo drives me occasionally," and switched to your right breast.
"Nanami Kento, are you out of your mind?"
Finally, he released you and sighed. "I fail to see the issue here." He appeared so innocent, with his moist lips, tousled hair, and a crumpled dress shirt.
You hurriedly sat up, readjusting your dress, which seemed to displease him. "I'm at a loss for words." Your gaze caught the weariness etched on his face, the bags under his eyes, the slow, heavy blinks signaling his desperate need for sleep. "You haven't actually been living here, have you?"
Upon hearing that, Nanami let out a weary sigh. "I do it when I'm too drained to make the drive back on weekdays."
As the details of his schedule fell into place, you flinched inwardly. He would rise at the crack of dawn, dedicate endless hours to handling clients at the office, and then endure a lengthy drive to your city, only to spend his evenings with you before leaving around midnight to return to Shibuya. The only time he would stay overnight at your place was on Saturdays, and he would depart early on Sundays for work. And all this time, you had believed he had an office in your city.
Oh, God.
You loved him.
You loved him so much.
Tears welled up in your eyes at the realization of just how much he loved you. The man had gone so far as to purchase an entire building in your city just to be closer to you. He showered you with affection at every opportunity, devoted his alone time to you with undivided attention and mind-blowing orgasms, and his bank transactions were probably dedicated to you.
“I don’t deserve your kindness,” you whispered.
“Neither did I the night when we met.” Nanami’s words always had a comforting effect on you. He gently pulled you onto his lap, and you curled up like a fetus, planting a kiss on his cheekbone. “I’ve loved you for a very long time, Y/N. I love . . . God, I love you so much. I didn't realize I was capable of feeling this much love for another human until I met you. It was all locked up inside me, and you held the key all along, darling." Leaning forward, he smoothly swept his blazer and delved into the pocket, revealing a small yellow box. With trembling hands, you accepted it and opened it to find a petite, golden key inside. “Our front door is an elevator.”
Your breath hitched. “What?”
“Move in with me.”
“Kento—”
“I know. I know it's quite early to discuss this, and I want to give you the space and time to consider it. As you mentioned, your lease ends next month, and I'll officially be transitioning to remote work with a few business trips every other week. It would mean a lot to me if you decided to join me on those trips." He gently placed the key in your hand, kissing your fist. "I'm scheduled to travel to Malaysia next month."
Overpowered with emotion, you choked out a sob and immediately lunged at him with a hug, causing both of you to stumble backward as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He loved you. He wanted you to move in with him. He wanted to travel with you, starting with Malaysia. Suddenly, the tips he left in your jar took on a deeper significance, backing the idea that you weren't meant to journey alone, why you weren’t meant to go with that swindling bastard. As Nanami's gestures of kindness and service became increasingly evident, your tears welled up, choking him in a tight embrace that eventually had him laughing.
Last November, Nanami Kento had stepped into your small bakery, raindrops clinging to him, unknowingly marking his permanent presence in your life.
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Get up, baby!
—✦ SUMMARY: The way jjk men try to wake you up despite your great desire to sleep on;
— CHARACTERS: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Ryomen Sukuna, Fushiguro Megumi;
— CONTENT: sfw! fluff, lots of kisses, soft;
✧˚.𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮
You sullenly hid your head in a pillow from the annoying rays of the sun that made their way through the window. Satoru, grinning, approached your sleeping face, starting to leave short kisses on your cheeks, gradually descending to your shoulders.
“Satoru, it's too early, I want to sleep.” You mumbled softly and indistinctly as he lifted you up and held you in his pleasant embrace, burying his head in your neck.
His hot breath covered your collarbones, tickling you slightly;
Every time Satoru wakes up before you, without thinking about falling asleep further – he wants to look at you every morning, finding something new for himself in you. He takes mental pictures, storing them in his head, and then he remembers you when you are not with him.
“But that's not the reason I let you go, because you're so cute when you're sleepy.” He nuzzled your forehead when you tilted your head back against his chest. “Then I'll fall asleep on you. Satoru laughed and, slowly leaning back, he gave you the opportunity to turn around and lie down again. You rested your head on his chest while he watched you, smiling.
“My beauty. I love mornings only because of you.”He whispered, stroking your head.
✧˚.𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮
His fingers carefully ran through your hair, drawing relaxing lines with smooth movements.
“Suguru?” Without opening your eyes, you sighed softly, continuing to be blissful from his touch.
“Sleepyhead, don't you think it's time to get up?”
His palm slowly moved to your back, starting to stroke you with long and sweet movements, trying to convey care and love for you in them.
Suguru finds something fascinating and noteworthy in your facial expressions: isn't it a miracle how his touch affects you?
Geto gently brushed your curls aside and lowered himself to you, imprinting kisses on your neck. “Do you like it?” The corners of his lips stretched out, hearing your soft sounds of ecstasy. “I wish I always had a morning like this.” He moved to your temple and lowered himself, lightly bit your earlobe, “Then let me continue, pretty.”
Ignoring the fallen strap of your T-shirt, he dressed your bare cool shoulders with the tenderness of his affectionate lips.
You shifted, propped yourself up on your elbows and addressed him drowsily, causing laughter in his chest “You're too good.”
✧˚.𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨
“Good morning, sweetheart.” He entered the bedroom, making sure that you were still asleep, without making any attempt to wake up. You covered your eyes with your hand from the light that was in your way, but Nanami sat down on the bed, took it and kissed it slowly.
“Another 5 minutes, honestly.” You lied, you won't have 5 minutes, and he knows it perfectly well, so he has no other option but to start groping you.
“Are you sure you have enough time?” He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and mischievously gently tapped the tip of your nose, making you wince. You took his hand in yours and held it up to your face, propping it under your chin.
“Your hands are so nice, Kento.”
Nanami grinned and, approaching, kissed you on the forehead.
“How long has it been?
“You're late, darling.”
“What?!” You jumped out of bed, feeling the coolness of the room, but his hands stopped you “I was joking” He tried to keep his face serious, but looking at you, Nanami's lips turned into a small smile.
“Oh, don't joke like that!” You frowned and, not letting him pull you to him, put your head on his lap.
“You're not going anywhere now.” You wrapped your arms around him, preventing him from moving that way.
✧˚.𝐑𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚
You were waking up from a dream, feeling something strange running over your hand, and when you woke up, you just remembered which man you were in a relationship with.
“Are you awake?” Sukuna still continued to tickle your skin with his nails, knowing full well that you were no longer asleep. “Don't be silent, doll, I know.” He traced the curves of your waist with his wide palm, shaking his head and grinning at how naive you look in front of him.
“Stop playing games” He pulled you to him and pressed your back to his chest and, resting his head on his hand, began to look at you.
“Maybe that's not how I want you to treat me.” You opened one eye and looked at him: Sukuna sighed in displeasure, rolling his eyes.
“Do you want me to do this?” He kissed your neck, biting it a little “Or maybe like this?” he grabbed your hip and squeezed it tightly, which made you squirm in bed.
“No-o-o.” You turned to him, removing his hand.
“Then what do you want?!” He stood up and loomed over you, looking at you with furrowed brows and displeased curled lips. “This is definitely not how I want to wake up.”You crossed your arms and turned your head away from him.
“Crotchety girl.” You immediately turned to him, but he didn't let you answer, and lifted your head by the chin, “But you're mine.”
✧˚.𝐅𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐌𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐢
In general, it's hard for both of you to get up in the morning, but Megumi has more determination than you, so he has to tear you away from sleep in every way.
He woke up to the ringing of the alarm clock and was surprised that you did not react to him in any way, continuing to sleep and hug him tightly.
“Hey, can you let me go?” But you didn't react to him in any way and settled comfortably on his arm. Fushiguro lay there for a few minutes, trying to wake you up as gently as possible.
He still managed to get out of your trap and decided to shake you slightly by the shoulders “Get up!”
“You're Sleeping Beauty...” A strange thought flashed through Megumi's mind, but... he didn't have any other options in his sleepy state yet.
He sank down closer to you and trying to touch your cheek, you suddenly turned your head to the side, which is why he briefly kissed you on the lips. Fushiguro blushed when you opened your eyes and, swallowing, spoke to you “Good morning” and you beamed with a smile, pouncing on top of him “Aw, Megumi, are you really gentle?!”
“This is my shadow side.” He propped himself up on his elbows while you put your arms around his neck, smiling imperceptibly.
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first times with nanami kento
cw : hand holding, kissing, oral, blow jobs, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, vaginal penetration, creampie, aftercare, gender neutral reader with AFAB terminology in reference to genitals
formatted in a half headcanon half fic style
nanami kento is a gentleman.
nanami kento is the type to be direct with things he wants. he’d wait outside of your place of work so he could walk you home. asking you to wait a moment as you stepped on ahead of him just so he could ask you if it was alright to hold your hand.
nanami kento didn’t steal kisses. his eyes would linger on your face as his heart swelled and skipped a beat. his fingers would dance over your knuckles, “may i kiss you?” he’d ask just above a whisper, only moving to cup your face in his hands when you squeaked a yes. he’d always asked for kisses every time after that. “you don’t have to ask every time,” you giggled nonchalantly like you were teasing him with no real bite to it. his ashen brows would furrow. “of course i do.” he’d wave his hand in dismissal as you stuttered an explanation. “with me you will get used to it,” and you did.
nanami kento seemed to be playing by the rules of some unspoken book. he was a gentleman but after countless dates that always began with permission to hold your hand and ended with a gentle kiss you were beginning to wonder if he was even attracted to you.
you’d come up with a plan to take things to the next step. you’d invited him in, refusing to let the date end with a parting kiss in the frame of your front door. you’d kept the pleasantries before the two of you ended up on your living room couch. “is it alright if i kiss you?” he asked like you heard countless times before and like all the other times you said yes. this time you sat a little closer, this time you rested your hand on his thigh. “i want to… do something tonight,” you’d said with pink tinted cheeks to which kento had listened intently. “well, go on,” he said gently, the corner of his lips tugging into a smirk that sent fire flooding into your gut. he’d taken your hand in his, motioning you to stand, setting a pillow down in front of him before leading you between his legs.
nanami kento was big.
you’d just about cursed, screaming in your head how he should’ve warned you about how big he was before you got between his legs, but he was patient. he cupped your face in his palm as you kissed down his shaft, his breath hitching as you licked a steady stripe from the base of his cock right to the tip. he lent you a stable hand at the nape of your neck and for a moment you were worried that he would push you down further, make you take more of his length. it had you rubbing your thighs together, your core growing wet, but you couldn’t really decide if you were disappointed or not when he made no effort to stretch your mouth. as you bobbed your head up and down you’d realized that he was reminding you that he was there with you in the moment. you didn’t need to take more than you could handle if you didn’t want to. with your nerves at ease a newfound excitement grew in your chest. you reveled in the sounds he made. the soft huffs and “fucks” especially the, “you’re doing so good for me, taking me so good it’s driving me crazy.”
you’d looked up at him with half lidded eyes, both of you panting softly. it was his turn to please you.
nanami kento gave you one simple instruction. “lay back and feel good.”
he caged you between his body and the bed, lips intertwining with yours in a heated kiss. humming deep in his chest as he trailed them down your body. just for that moment while his tongue was busy circling your nipples he’d let you look away from him, throw your arm across your eyes because you don’t know if you’ve ever felt something this good.
“keep your eyes on me,” he whispered from where he laid between your bare legs. “watch me,” he rasped as he planted soft kisses along your inner thigh, each getting closer and closer to your heat. you couldn’t help the whine that escaped you as your eyes met and he leaned in to rest his tongue on the growing wet spot of your underwear. he paused for a second, his eyes fluttered closed, the softest moan buzzing through his lips as he savored his first taste of you.
“can you lift your hips for me?” he asked when he was done teasing and you could no longer discern your wetness from his saliva. your hips snapped up almost embarrassingly quick. it was then that you realized what little he’d done had already turned your legs to jelly, your thighs shaking as he pulled the fabric off you so painstakingly slow, though not without a word of praise for how good you did.
nanami kento liked to take his time, you’d realized. he pressed his tongue firmly against your sex, leisurely mapping out each fold, softly hushing you as you bucked your hips when he’d gotten just close enough to your clit but not quite there. he’ll get there, he reassured you. licks then became open mouthed kisses, contented hums soon following as he sunk lower to your weeping hole. he tasted it on his hips first before dipping a relaxed muscle against your entrance. he moaned. much louder than any of his previous sounds.
nanami kento liked to take his time, but that didn’t mean that he could always hold himself back. one taste of you from the source had him in a daze. he couldn’t help himself from moving up to lave at your clit, coaxing more of your sweetness out and onto the sheets below you. you were suspended in a deliciously torturous rhythm of gentle sucks against your bud and his tongue fucking into your slick entrance. he intertwined your hand with his as your shot down toward him when the pleasure became too much, resting your clasped hands on your hips as he continued to eat.
nanami kento was greedy, but that would come some other time. one of these days he’ll spend a whole work day between your legs, a thumb rubbing circles onto your clit so he’d have an endless supply of your nectar. for now he had something else in mind. he opened you up on his fingers, tongue swirling spirals around your sensitive button. when you came he refused to slow his movements until your legs twitched uncontrollably and your moans just about turned into whimpers of pain. he pulled away slowly, licking his lips clean before slipping his fingers out of you, taking his time to lick each digit clean wanting to get as much of you as he could get.
“i’d like to do that again, but i’m assuming you only have one more in you,” he whispered in your ear with a smug grin and he was right. all you wanted now was to be filled with him.
he propped himself up on his left forearm, placing it in the space between your head and your shoulder as he gathered your slick onto his cock, sliding between your folds, letting your body prepare for his intrusion. he’d kept a close eye on you as he pushed in, letting out a shaky breath as the head of his cock popped in. his free hand found its place on the other side of your head as he slipped in inch by inch, immediately stopping at the slightest sign of discomfort.
he forced himself to stop the growl that rumbled within him when he reached the hilt, stopping to wait for your comfort. you were milking him as your body adjusted to his size. he was torn, unable to decide whether he should look away from you to calm his instincts or keep his eyes on you because he didn’t want to miss a single second of this moment. he chose the latter.
his movements were gentle when you assured him that you were okay and that he could move. he’d started with minute rolls of his hips, then short shifts of his hips out and in until all the discomfort dissipated from your face and your whimpers turned into enticing moans. he’d rested his weight onto his forearms, clasping his hands under your head as he craned his neck down to press his lips against yours, his hips moving in sync with your body, thrusts picking up the pace when he knew your moans yearned for more.
nanami kento trusted you when you stuttered for him to cum inside. he’d give you anything you wanted, especially this. he licked the pad of his thumb, bringing it down to toy with your clit as he kept the pace of his thrusts. he fucked you through your orgasm, slowing when his own hit and he began filling you with warm spurts. he snapped his hips with every upstroke making sure to fill you like you wanted. he only pulled out when he began to feel his erection flagging, cooing a shush as you gasped softly, overstimulation uncaring of the fact that he was pulling out and had no further plans of continuing.
you barely noticed his momentary absence until he was between your legs again with a warm wash cloth gently cleaning you up. he massaged your sore hips, letting your legs naturally straighten as the muscles relaxed. he wiped down the rest of your body with another cloth, draping a soft blanket over both of your bodies when he was done. he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into him. he slowly introduced the conversation of what you liked and what you didn’t like– one list dramatically shorter than the other. the air around you comfortable, soft giggles making your shoulders bounce as your legs tangled together.
you’d confessed that you were beginning to think that he wasn’t attracted to you, which he vehemently denied despite your assurance that you now knew that wasn’t the case. you’d figured out that nanami kento was a gentleman. he wouldn’t dare do anything that would make you uncomfortable, but once he was given the opportunity he would show you just how much he desired you.
A/N : ooo this is the first nsfw piece i'm posting on here how exciting. I hope you enjoyed!
nanami hc pt. 1 |
MDNI banners by saradika
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𝑀𝐸𝑅𝐼𝒩𝒢𝒰𝐸 𝒟𝒪𝐿𝐿 — kento nanami x male!reader
himbo!reader , farmer!au , strangers/friends/lovers , meet - cute , inaccurate farming techniques , lawyer!nanami , slow burn , depictions of injury ( minor burns ) , check - ins , dumbification , vaguely implied age gap (~5 years) , hand kink , inexperienced reader , light feminization , blowjobs , anal , mating press , fingering , hand-holding , praise , degradation , slut - calling , dirty talk , spit / drool , under-negotiated kink , aftercare
w.c; ~ 13.8k
sonny says. . . naaamiiii !!! {cry} {cry} mbaby :c can ybelieve s’is mfirst nami fic ?!?! just tbe clear, the reader’s size or height isn’t explicitly stated, but he’s vaguely hinted toward bein/appearin physical stronger than nanami.
‘ Next stop: Sekichiku ’
When he wakes up, Kento expects sunlight peeking through greenery— warm, yellow rays of light that dance and flicker across his eyelids. Warm, yellow beams that caress his cheek like the knuckles of someone tender, the palms of someone sweeter. It’ll overwhelm him at first, so bright and unapologetic as his eyes adjust and focus, but he’ll quickly crash, pupils constricting as the disturbance dwindles. And, suddenly, the star’s saturation will be comforting. It’ll be like a second. Just slower paced, peaceful. He expects the rustle of leaves, connected to strong branches and even stronger roots that dig into deep, rich soil. He expects to roll over in his temporary bed, breathing gently beneath shade, shielding his eyes from the welcoming invasion and blanketing him in a seamless flow of cool air.
When he wakes, Kento expects to hear the chirping of birds. It’s never quite enough to hear them in Tokyo. The strum of wind as it tickles his nose and pushes him forward. The swaying of grass— the smell is still so freshly imprinted in his brain, as it makes his head swim while crystal drops glide across its surface — a coarse underfoot of greenery that prickles the souls of his feet.
Tranquility by his side, urging him to get out of bed, chirping in an excited voice as it tugs on his wrist. He expects solitude, rolling its tangerine eyes and tapping its foot impatiently, “This is the break you’ve waited twenty-seven years for.”
But, instead, he finds himself clutching his chest, his heart beating with an unfamiliar pace that isn’t so calm. His body feels cold, like he’s been submerged in the deepest part of the ocean, unrelenting and ruthless as wave after wave crashes into his ribcage. The static in his ears grows louder and louder, ready to combust and burst his eardrums. Instead of the rustle of leaves, the cruel hustle and bustle of city life storms forward against his chest, shoving him back and forth. Back and forth, to and fro, against his body as his knuckles turn white and his vision starts to spot. Back and forth, as he comes undone.
It’s been so long, he’s not quite sure just how to unwind.
He starts off slow, swallowing air in desperate heaps until his legs relax, spreading toward the cushion arms of his faux-velvet chair. Then he flexes his fingers, draws them into tight fists and releases the digits until the shaking has stopped. Sips his complimentary white-wine with newfound steadiness, and tries not to choke when the intercoms ring,
‘Now approaching: Sekichiku.’
It’s a quaint little village, your district, where everyone knows everyone and the news is always, no matter where you are, city-wide. Stone-clad pavement and moss decalled windows, there’s a small blanket of achroous fog further north of town square. Yet, despite that, there’s an ever growing city of greenery and agriculture. With a small population and himself being the only passenger to unload at the station, it seems to be a lot busier than he’d originally thought. Street-food stalls and vendors, selling freshly baked goods and syrupy, savory sweets. It’s not like Tokyo, no, there’s no rush. No pushing or shoving, no overcrowded lines, no smells of smoke and burnt coal.
In fact, the air is rather crisp— the further his legs take him, the more apparent. No longer are his lungs breathing in the stench of sickness or body odors, no longer is he pushing past the fortunate, just to shove the unfortunate. And, admittedly, it’s a bit of a culture shock— but it’s not unwelcome. Regardless, Kento keeps his suitcase close, pushes it forward, sidestepping polite smiles and local shop owners.
He basks in it. The genuine nature to it all, the healthy glow of the atmosphere despite the steam, the fog, the chill to the air. He considers this a luxury— the closest to a vacation he’ll get, even if he’s technically ‘on the clock.’ Still— he soaks in the sights of hugging trees, of mossy roads and cobblestone streets. The colorful banners that jump with life, the lanterns and yellow-lighting that illuminates the day— he’s sure at night they’re even more wondrous. And, oh, the smells. Not at all like tokyo— there isn’t an overwhelming mixture of perfumes and colognes, no fast-food chains competing through aromatic smells, no heavy scents of tobacco littering the air. It's crisp, it’s ripe.
He almost takes no offense to the collision against his side— nor the screeching sound of surfaces grinding against each other, nor the loud and abrasive cry of the man bumping into him, accompanied by the crack of an apple’s core against the ground.
“Woah,” Warm breaths pan down the base of his neck, even warmer hands wrapping around his bicep with strength Nanami is sure shouldn’t be normal for a typical, everyday civilian. He involuntarily grunts, a deep sound that rumbles in his throat and earns an eager, yet apologetic chuckle. “You alright? Y’almost went flyin’!”
His brows furrow quizzically at that. First— he’s certain it’s the latter who nearly lost an arm and a leg with his tumble. Second, he hadn’t expected such a youthful, bouncy voice from the very stature shadowing acast him. Not even a bit, it doesn’t match the muscle straining through thermal clothing at all, let alone the sheer square feet of area being taken up by one person. Blocking his vision almost completely, standing straight— at an angle— that blocks a stall for fresh produce and flaky, steaming bread. The goods speak for themselves, crusted over in golden brown mountains and cloud-like, moist cross-sections.
Swallowing, Kento nods, eyeing the poorly drawn sign for fresh bread. Drawn in sharpie, the prices are written in big, bold, red letters. Endearing, almost, the curve and loop of each letter and number— the lines of each to-scale doodle of bread. Nothing like Tokyo, not nearly as artificial, not perfectly clean-cut. Not so cookie-cutter. There’s some personality in it, as juvenile as it may be. And it’s a shame, really, how promising the stand looks. Apples that shine a golden shade of red, bread that’s glazed in a sweet, sticky layer of yellow molasses and savory honey. And though he’d love to indulge, Kento has yet to label himself as the type. “Great, thank you.” Is all he says, pulling his suitcase along the perimeter of the stand.
Some other time, then.
The days are long as they are hard. The sun has yet to fully set, and still, the Earth pulls and pulls to weigh it down onto your shoulders. The sky is painted in hues of orange and purple, strokes of tangerine and lavender roaming past your bird's eye view. Your back pops as you stretch, arms tensing against the woven basket of leftover harvest, shiny red fruits aligned with the horizon and reaching toward the tiny glimpse of departing stars.
Where blossoms grow from tiny seeds, and orchids dance in gentle breeze— beds upon beds of farmland and agriculture drape the outskirts of the farmstead. Though the weather is turning, branches are starting to grow bare and bloom in color, the wind picks up its seasonal chill, and the clouds have begun to dissipate into the sky. . . The well-received proof of your hard work is still something to behold.
“—ome any minute, now,” You’ve heard it all before, your mother gossiping to her farmer-wife friends as she nurses sweet teas and tangerine tiramisu under her calloused, warm hands. You’d been a mere two steps away from where she sits at the open-island kitchen, shoes tipped in the illuminated speckle of celadon clearing just adjacent to the sliding, front, cedarwood door. “Said so, at least. Did you hear. . . ” Windchimes sing in welcome, soft and mellow as the door opens and shuts behind you, socked feet slipping from boots to warm, fuzzy slippers.
“M’back, Mama,” You mumble, half-humming along to the tune of muffled windchimes the further you walk, arms hoisting the overflowing basket up to your chest. A sweet sigh, then pitter-patter of fleece against parquetry, and the discovery of a sweet, cherry-red ladybug walking along your knuckles, leads to the basket securely placed on a free countertop. There’s a quirk of her brow, something of a gentle question— more of a suggestion— not completely committed to keeping two conversations at once. How’d it go?
“No luck sellin’ today,” your voice buds, small and soft as your eyes trail the curves of a particularly large waste of an apple. An evident pout on your lips, then a quiet huff of air.
Farming has been your whole life, really. It’s what you’re best at, good at. Ever since you were young, barely tall enough to push away tall-grass— barely strong enough to pull out weeds, you knew it was yours. Something special, gravel crumbling and breaking beneath heavy, solid boots and rubber tires. The remnants of small, flying rocks, pelting into each other and leaving behind white, gray smoke as your tractor comes to a slow, gradual halt.
“But I met someone new!” That peaks her attention, nothing short of a gasp coming from a pair of lips—identical to your own— and here come the questions. Was he blond? Oh, I knew it! Did he buy anything? Well, why not? Was he tall? Thought so. . . How about handsome? Come on, now. .
“He was . . hmm, pretty.” Is how you’d like to put it, raising a finger to the air in finality. Truth be told you don’t remember much about his appearance— it was more so his demeanor. He’d bumped into you— you think— and yet, there was something so smooth about him. Not even his slicked hair, wavy at the end and curved just right to frame his face and bleed into the bristles of his blond undercut. He’d carried on like it was nothing, still polite, even admired your handiwork on your stall’s banner. A sweet thing of a stranger.
“You’re so easily impressed,” The smile dusting your lips curls into a wee, nasty little frown. That’s just not true. “A good thing, too, you’ll have to like our new neighbor.”
Her voice melting through one ear and out the other like freshly harvested honey has your throat tied into a thick knot, stuck right at the base of your neck and only growing in size. Hands thrumming against the granite countertop, your body leans inward.
“Neighbor?”
“Mm,” She hums, landline trapped between her ear and sweater-clad shoulder. You’re not entirely sure if it’s toward you or her friend, either way, her conversation stays ambiguous. “I heard he’s some fancy lawyer. You think he’s defendin’ the Hasaba girls from last year?”
That’s something to think about. Two little girls who’d been found locked away by some sort of— police officer, was he? Perhaps something more authoritative, and taken into his personal care. You wouldn’t be surprised if it became legalized— you’d only met that man (Suguru Geto, was it?) in passing, but his stature seemed dead-set on protecting those girls.
There’s a muffled gasp on the other line, crackly with static as a finger twirls around the phone’s coiled, mint wire. The rest of the conversation goes unheard, slippered feet carrying you to the large, alcove window that displays just enough equal farmland and neighborhood housing. And, sure enough, as if on cue, it’s not hard to make out the lines and shadows of the ‘ fancy ’ lawyer, his fluid silhouette effortlessly carrying luggage and— what looks to be— a box of books. Documents, perhaps.
“You didn’t— how come you didn’t say nothin’ ?!” Your excitement has you toppling over, limbs every which way as your face presses into the glass window. When you’re stuck in a place where everyone knows everyone, there’s something exhilarating about having a new neighbor. And he knows nothing.
There’s a quiet mumble that roughly translates to: ‘You didn’t ask.’, but it’s filtered out by the sound of your full-footed stomps. You opt to keep your slippers, racing toward the neglected basket, mind completely set. “I’ll be back, Ma!”
The path along your house isn’t dangerous, but it is harsh on bare feet— inured by heavy boots and pick-up trucks.. Still, it goes completely ignored as you carry the heaviest basket of goods you own, anxiety twisting and turning in your stomach— bunny hops into your chest and stomps and stomps and stomps. You’ve carried yourself past the intersection of the cobblestone path, a lot more smooth the closer it gets to the large, usually untouched, rental home. The lights are off— save for the dim, yellow glow of a small porch lamp resting above an unsullied, sleek and wooden rocking-chair. When there’s no one to inhabit the home, it’s always been comforting to look at— but now? .
Cold would be one way to put it. Your feet are cold, your arms are cold, your hands are cold, and you’re stood at his front door— frozen. Scared is another.
Even so, you’ve always been told you’re the ‘bravest boy’ in your whole district. Cry-baby habits and all.
The door opens before you can knock, and all you can register is brown. Brown wallpaper— the beige type, just barely meeting the requirement. Patterned with old, vintage looking floral prints. Brown, sleek wood of a bannister— steps that lead down into the living room, but are visible from the front door. Brown eyes, such a specific shade. When exposed to the light they almost look gray— green?— but as he stands before you, there’s nothing but molten chocolate and burnt honey-candy. A brown leather belt, securing crisp slacks and an equally crisp button up. You expect to see brown loafers, but—
Fuzzy slippers, brown and soft and cute. Little black buttons for eyes, and two floppy, fluffy ears— reminiscent of a bunny.
“Oh. . . Can I help you?” You’ve heard it before, his voice, but it’s even more striking than ever. It’s easy to forget the voice of someone you’d just met, but there’s something so. . distinct about it. He’s got a slight accent, too, something Tokyo-adjacent— you’ve always wanted to visit for longer than the feeble four hours of a busy work-trip.
“Mhm!” Pretty lips spread to their best grin, pulling at your cheeks until the babyfat wells up. “Well, no— um, actually. .” Brown eyes are expectant, but calm and patient as they watch you fumble over your words. Your fingers tremor as the basket is thrusted forward, heat blooming in your cheeks. “These— This is for you!”
“Ah. . .” Pink lips part, cupid’s bow prominent. There’s a beat of silence, then the sound of his front door closing with a slight click— right in your face. For a moment all you can do is stare, eyes boring into the dark, chestnut wood of the rustic front door. Staring until it’s gone blurry, eyes bubbling with fresh, unshed tears. And, nearly spilling over like an overflowing faucet, they gather before you can blink them away— fat and thick and embarrassing.
“Um. . I like your sli—slippers.” Fully aware you’re speaking to an unmoving door, you can’t behind yourself to walk back the moss-decalled path home. It’s not so cold anymore, your bones having rung out in the, metaphorical, hot sun until they’ve dried completely and— now it’s warm. Warmth in your nose, stinging as you sniffle and bite down a hiccup.
“Sorry for the wait,” Mahogany shifts, offset by a deep rumble of a voice, smooth like velvet in comparison to the sharp, slow creak of door hinges, “Here.”
Dam rebuilt almost immediately, your body straightens. Him again, this time his eyes trained on what he holds in his hand. Brown and gold like sweet honey and, by God, it’s the most crisp set of yen you’ve ever held in your life. His fingers dance with fluidity you’ve never seen before, counting through each slip until he’s deemed an amount satisfactory— there’s a slight patch of hair on each of his knuckles, an array of veins that cascade into his forearm. His fingertips look a bit rough, but his nails are glossy and clipped. Even his cuticles are pushed back, just enough to look healthy and natural.
“Oh! I wasn’t trying to—”
“I know it’s rude to tip, so I left the exact change,” You blink. Once, twice— again, lips parted like a fish, fresh out of water. Then he’s hoisting the basket from your trembling hands, eyes downcast. “Next time, don’t give out things you worked for, for free,” Right where his eyes dip, his monolid, there’s a small mole— cute and circular, and had you not been studying the curves of his face you wouldn’t have noticed it. “You should wear a coat, too.” And, like a schoolboy, you can’t help the flurry of butterflies catching flight in your stomach.
“Yes, Sir,” Pearly whites biting at the fleshy, pink insides of your cheek have your lips puckered, pensive and sweet as you clutch the money to your chest. “Sorry about earlier— um, if it’s okay, I could help with your boxes?”
He leans forward, careful enough to keep the respective bubble of space between the two of your bodies, glancing at heavy, book-piled boxes labeled ‘N.K.’ The woven basket creaks under the weight of his chest, but it stays in one place nonetheless. “That?” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s fine, just mail. Must’ve arrived before I did.”
It’s a bit awkward, really. Anticipation nips at your fingertips— you’ve never really had to work so hard to continue a conversation. You’ve never had to think about it either, if the words were coming out correct, if anyone was comfortable with your presence.
“Oh,” You breathe, subconsciously leaning closer. Perhaps it’s a miracle he hasn’t actually shut the door in your face, and— right. Your hands move to wipe away any streaks from your cheeks, a small sniffle ringing in the air. “Sorry f’I bothered you. I live, um, closest to the windmill. Yknow, just up the path from here. . . ?”
You haven’t known him for long, but you just can’t consider him comparable. Maybe it’s your heart speed-running past any other rational thought, maybe it’s the blooming heat in your chest, maybe it’s the shiver of winter trailing down your spine. You find yourself desperately hanging onto his every breath, only ever beaming when he shakes his head.
“Kento Nanami,” Tense shoulders relax with a deep inhale, the sweet smell of chocolate stuffed bread filling his nostrils. All that trepidation washes away, hushed under the breeze of Kento’s slow breaths. “Did you make these yourself?”
The door creaks, quiet and welcoming as Nanami extends an arm, stepping aside. Once his eyes finally settle on you they harden, just for a moment, as if he’s finally noticed the pull of your eyes— the crystalline seam tightlined around your waterline, the bright red strain of veins peeking behind your lids. Still, he says nothing, until you’ve introduce yourself with watery tremors.
“It’s cold, and you came all this way without a jacket?” Your eyes trace the vapor floating into the air as he sighs, irises dancing along the edge of your bare forearms. “Come in.”
Your muscles straighten up under his gaze, rippling until rigid as you eagerly nod, “Y’don’t think we could share some of that bread, d’you?”
The best time to farm, you’ve learned, is just after sunrise. The sun rests her head on grassy hills, still groggy and not quite awake yet, herself. But you are, suited up in your boots and overalls, not a single lantern in hand. That’s the first plus, natural lighting of the rising sun. The sweet, dim bath of light that paints the path from your home to your plantation in molten gold.
Then there’s Kento. You’d think he never sleeps, but you’ve seen it. Ritualistic, in a way. For the last two weeks, you’ve watched him go about his day. See, the window of your bedroom leads straight into his study, where he prefers a dimly lit lamp over the bright fluorescents. It’s almost hard to tell when he comes and goes, seeing as whenever you look, there he is. Sat in a swiveling chair and hunched over his desk, writing something in a notepad and skimming through— what looks to be— more documents on his computer.
You can only tell he’s going to bed once there’s a sigh, a pinch to the bridge of his nose before smoothing out his eyebrows, then the discarding of silver-frame, rectangular reading glasses. The lamp stays on, as if he knows he’ll be back in less than seven sleeping hours— which you think, for him, translates to roughly thirty minutes.
And, though he can’t see you, you always make an extra effort to wave up at his study, just before starting up your tractor.
You never expected him to wave back. You never expect his eyes to trail from your face to your supplies. And you, most certainly, never expect him to join you. Two thermal mugs in hand as he makes it over the small hill from his home to your own, past the thorn bushes and vacant tangerine trees. Hot chocolate— piping and rich, it coats your tongue in its sweetness and splashes against your lips with comforting warmth.
“Mm!” You hum, blowing through the small gap between the thermos and its sealed lid. You’d assumed your scarf, wrapped snug around your neck, would do the trick— keep you warm enough — but this seems to actually hit the spot. Sticky accents from remnants of unmelted marshmallows, its fluff clings to the corner of your lips. And Kento, nursing his own mug— though it contains tea— looks up to watch you grin, shards of tiny sugar crystals clinging to your pouty bottom lip.
“Hold still,” all but purring, his thumb swipes at your lip, wipes away the stickiness until they’ve parted— breathless. His eyebrows furrow with concentration, as if it’s a practiced habit, absentmindedly licking his thumb clean with one smooth, quick dart of his tongue.
“Sweet.”
Your breath circulates into the air, a swirl of white that dispels almost immediately. Your thoughts are cut short, breath stuck in your throat, eyes wide and glazed over with astonishment. “It’s— huh?”
“Sweet,” he chimes, lips curling around each letter. He’s beside himself, nearly forgetting who he is until the clear of his throat and a resigned grumble. “I can’t fathom how you manage to drink. . . radioactive waste from a cup.”
His humor is dry— something you have to think over for a moment before smiling against the lid of your cup. Kento notes how you smile— with your whole body— eyes closed tight and teeth on display, shoulders bunched and your stride much more bouncy. He tries not to smile when you giggle, hiding the lower half of your face behind the piping mug as your shoulders brush against his own. With each step the closer you get— to both the blond and your truck.
“It’s good,” Your voice lifts at the end of the statement, feigning offense as you lick your lips. Soft tongue against soft lips, Nanami partly wonders if you naturally taste as sweet as your preference for drinks. “M’not bein’ mean about yours!”
“I'm not being mean,” He corrects, a silent apology laced in his tone— just in case — and your knowing gaze lifts from his cup to his eyes, blazing bright and beautiful. He basks in your attention for a moment, like the gentle rays of a sun-swept island. Had this really been a vacation— no carry-on cases— he would’ve considered booking a flight to Malaysia.
First, he’s buckling you into your seat— it seems you’d forgotten, then he’s reminding you to put on your gloves, despite having bare hands of his own.
“You do this for a living,” is his justification, though you deemed it more a reason for him to wear the protective gear. “You wear them.”
And, now, he’s listening intently as you explain the mild inconvenience that is the technicalities that come with farming. He learns of your affinity to animals. Your slight, biased preference for gardening. The way your nose wrinkles when you think too hard, and the way you often forget what you were saying as you say it.
Though the scenery outside the passenger seat window is beautiful— valleys of faded green and brown, a light fog dusting the air. The symphony of crickets and cicadas, and of course, the sunset making its round up the horizon, teetering along the age of the Earth as it paints each and every blade of grass in its light.
He helps you out of the car as if you haven’t done it yourself a million times, careful not to spill your drink in his other hand. He’s awfully tender, too, his thumb absentmindedly circling the glove-clad skin of your knuckles as your hand squeezes his own. The door slams shut, and he doesn’t miss your expression twist as you whisper a small ‘oops, sorry!’ to your precious truck before unloading supplies.
Kento can’t name a thing— he’s out of his depths, here, but he helps anyway. He carries it down the never-ending row of cabbage and radish, watches his step despite nearly dismantling at least three dozen budding vegetables simultaneously. And you don’t yell at him once, instead offering words of sweet encouragement until you’ve found the place to start, dropping your assortment of tools and buckets.
“M’kay, ‘Nami,” He watches you drop to a crouch, warmth blooming in the apples of his cheeks. It’s not just the suggestive position, nor the way your pretty eyes look up at him from there— but it’s how sweet you say his name. . going as far as to give him a nickname, too.
Still, it manifests through the twitch of his eye, which you don’t catch onto, as he kneels alongside you.
“‘Nami—”
“No. It’s pronounced Nanami.” He interjects, his grip tight along the base of unsavory, frostbitten weeds— at least, that’s what he sees you doing anyway. Almost too tight, heavy and thick hands flexing, you can see the bend of his knuckles as his fingers dig into the roots.
“Na,”And, the smell of dirt, it’s so strong, the earthy undertones invade your nostrils and have no intent on stopping. . . “—na,” Raw, natural. His palms press in at the sides, thumbs stroking at the soil as he feels around for growing stems. For a moment it’s silent, save for the crackling radio beside you. Your pretty lips part, and sweetly, you’ve sounded out his name. “—mi.”
A puff of air leaves his lips, a scoff of a chuckle, and he’s giving a slight nod, quietly whispering the syllables of your name in acknowledgment. “Mhm?”
He doesn’t miss the way your lips split into a wide grin, weeds absentmindedly disregarded for a moment as you giggle, “I already knew that— I just said it!”
“Mm,” He agrees, though he’s not entirely sure you did. Then his heavy fingers tap your wrist— gentle, barely even a tap, but it gets you back on track— picking up the dead weeds. Kento watches, your hands gingerly plucking them free from the root, mastered and effortless.
Your fingertips dig into the soil, palms sticky and damp, littered with defrosting grass along each ridge and defining line. There’s so much care in your fingertips, and with every successful pull your eyes ignite. Like a cute, overgrown puppy. “Good. You’re a smart boy.”
“Y’think m’smart?” And, though your shoulders bunch up— a bit more bashful, you’re shaking your head. “I mean— I knew that already, too,” and it washes away as fast as it arrives, replaced with genuine exuberance. “I tell m’self everyday!”
The blond catches it anyway, gaze unwavering, even as your own struggles to keep contact. Nanami’s eyes are remarkably intimidating despite belonging to someone who’s positioned so utterly relaxed. . Crouching just as you are, but with smooth shoulders and lax biceps. Still, they’re visible through the silk fabric of his button-up, but he seems used to it. Tufts of blonde hair, slightly unruly and disheveled— swept back with gel, yet still set off in a flurry of gold by the back of his head, as if he’d rolled around in bed and decided to lounge about instead of retouching it.
Cozy.
“I do,” The sun dawns down through thick, gray clouds, framing his bronze locks— and with his lips slightly parted and his skin picking up a peachy glow, he looks almost seraphic. “What were you saying?”
“Um,” You pause to rethink through the last hour, warmth blowing past your cheeks as a particularly nippy gust of wind rushes by. “. . We sell ‘em, the weeds! That won’t be for a few days, sometimes we keep ‘em for cookin’, but . . . these aren’t any good.”
“Too many?” He asks, as if it’s the most interesting thing he’s learned in his vacation here, by far, despite having learned that just a few days ago.
“Too many!” Pretty lips part into a wide grin, and perhaps that’s the conclusion to Kento’s sightseeing.
౨ৎ
Kento tries not to lie— not unless he absolutely needs to.
With your black on black attire— a large, knitted sweater, a black bomber atop it, dark jeans to match, a hand-woven gray scarf wrapped around your neck, and white sneakers that carry a cream-colored accent in its threading— it’s hard to keep his mouth shut.
“Where are we going?” Is his first question— but there’s so much more he means to ask. Since when do you dress so nicely? Do your parents know you spent extra farm money on those shoes? Is it bad to feel the urge to hold you closer, just so no one gets any ideas?
Nonetheless, checking the silver-plated Rolex along his wrist with the slight tussle of his lapel-collared trench coat, just before popping open the passenger’s seat of your truck, he ignores the growing thought.
“You’re always locked up in your house,” Twisting your keychain covered keys into the ignition, the truck starts up with a gradual rumble. You’ve figured something was wrong with the oil for quite some time now, but it’s never been enough to start any problems. “Don’t y’wanna have fun?”
That doesn’t entirely answer his question, nor does it ease his mind— a vacation this is, yes. But it’s also paid, and he’s technically on the clock whilst being here. Still, he nods just once, the clench of his jaw apparent in the faint valleys of muscle just below his ear. Though, he supposes he could say the same about you. Every day you wake up, harvest, water crops, feed your animals, clean out troths and shovel up feces. He’s not even entirely sure if that’s your idea of fun— but he hopes not.
Kento doesn’t expect you to be such a great driver. Smooth turns and a gentle ride— even with cobblestone streets and gravel trails. You get carried away when you talk, too, hands moving about and your gaze trailing to his eyes every few seconds. He has to remind you— “Don’t take your hands off the wheel,” “Don’t look at me, look at the road,” — but Kento would be lying if he said it weren’t endearing.
It’s almost like you can barely function without basking in his presence.
“If it were warmer,” You swallow, finally stopping to catch your breath after the last fifteen minutes of rambling. The car slows down to a halt, an overhead traffic-light flashing a bright, crisp shade of red. “We could’ve went apple-pickin’ . . . or even oranges!”
You take the time to fully face him, eyes trailing up his dark trousers and gray turtleneck— it bunches at his chest, and you’re sure without his trench coat it’d be just as strained around his biceps.
“What do you do when it’s cold?” He muses, ducking his head to watch the passing of trees and inner city shops.
“Hm?” You hum, but before he can repeat the question you beat him to it. “Uh, we have this lake— it’s the first to freeze over when it’s cold. . ” So quaint, his eyes gloss over pedestrians as they live amongst themselves. Walking their dogs, sharing a drink at an outdoor bar, couples huddled close together for warmth. The sidewalks are clean and clear, there’s a polite, happy bounce to everyone’s step. Fairy lights blink in every other window, casting a sweet, bright hue along the streets below it. Kento understands it all, despite it being much more. . comfortable. . than Sendai. “And, when it’s completely frozen, we skate on it!”
It feels like home. A gentler, cozier version of it.
“I’m sorry—” The blond clears his throat as he turns to actually look at you, having fully processed your words. “Skating?”
“Are y’scared?” Nanami tries to ignore the burning of his throat when you laugh at his silence— a pretty, featherlight thing of a giggle that only progressively makes it harder for him to catch his breath.
“No,” He grumbles. He’s actually done it before— his younger, studying ‘coworkers’ had a knack for dragging him around outside of work hours— and he wasn’t free from it, even in winter. Yuji, Megumi, and Nobora, perhaps the three only people who could have him willingly risking a fractured disc.
“Don’t be scared, ‘Nami!” The car turns into a short trail, decalled in various signs and brightly colored symbols. “I can help you, m‘kay?”
Four people.
He nods anyway, save you the meltdown, and lets you drag him out the car once you’ve found a good place to park. He’d think it was illegal had there not been a sign for it, let alone communal skates in varying sizes. They’re in good condition, too. A small wooden bench— decorated with moss along its sides, he brushed his fingertips against it by accident— keeps him steady, but when he looks over to you, you’re already walking around with untied skates.
“Come here,” He beckons, voice soft and fond as he quirks a finger in your direction. He watches you fumble, nearly tripping over your own legs as opposed to your laces, but you make it over to him anyway, thigh against thigh. You brace yourself when he pulls your legs over his lap, shifts in his seat and tightens them just enough— “It’s not hurting you, is it?”— to fit comfortably.
“Thank you, ‘Nami,” He can hear the sincerity in your voice— as if he’d saved your life. Your breath pans across his face, warm and minty as you shake your head, “Doesn’t hurt. . .”
He offers a gentle pat to your knees once you’re fully set, softly dropping them back down as he leans to tie his own. It’s a quick process— not as tedious as the knotted up, tattered ones back home— a much more nice change of pace.
The ice, though, is considerably worse. He surmises it’s because it’s relatively untouched— if the whole village of Sekichiku had done two laps over it still wouldn’t have been enough to leave a noticeable dent in the ice— so his skates have nowhere to grip. You, though. . .
You’re much more graceful on ice than on land. A slow turn here, a quick twirl there, you could skate laps around him if you so choose. But you don’t, instead holding onto his wrists as he stiffly skates forward. Kento’s nose is nipped with pink, matching the particular shade of his lips as they part in concentration. The shade dispels down his cheeks, and you’ve never seen his face so. . . soft.
“Say, ‘Nami?” You huff, holding his wrists as you move in a slow, clockwise circle, turning you both. “When’re you leavin’?”
The truth bubbles in his throat, tougher to swallow than he’d originally thought it’d be. He clears his throat, avoids the question, and instead of freeing his wrists altogether, he holds your hand. You’re pouting when you slowly swivel to his side, his heart somersaulting almost painfully at the cute, wee frown to your lips. “Hey,” you whine, caught off guard but still pleasantly surprised, squeezing your palms against his own. “What’re you doin’?”
You’ve always been undeniably sweet. Kento thinks back to your basket of goods. The sweet, savory, aromatic flavors of bread, meats, cheeses, chocolates. How you have it to him so sweetly, no questions asked. There’s no ulterior motive to your demeanor, either. It’s peculiar to have someone so. . dependable. Someone to easily lean on, someone so— hospitable.
You’re perfect.
“I've never—“ He pauses, watching smoke dispel form your lips. An intimate position, he’s in— close enough to hear your breaths, holding on tight enough to feel your pulse through your fingertips. “Noone has ever done this for me. Thank you.”
“What, take you skatin’?”
“Support me unconditionally.” He pulls away before you can say anything in response, relishing in the thought of your pulse speeding against his knuckles as he stiffly skates back toward regular land.
The ride home is smooth, but quiet. And once you get there, hunger overrides your hospitality.
You like Kento’s rental— its kitchen is spacious and just big enough to support the mess of pots and pans that come with baking. It’s warm and inviting, the stove works great and the oven even better. Its heat burns a little brighter, but nothing you can’t handle.
Pain au chocolat — chocolatine — and meringue cookies; they’re a pain in Kento’s ass. Not even something he’d try to attempt without you there— he’s happy to watch you whisk away and laugh at his disgruntled faces. A “taste-tester”, you’d called him, scooping one sugary accessory after another onto the pad of your fingertip and asking him to try.
You weren’t lying. You really do know how to bake— flour dusted skin and all. Twisting raw dough into pretty sculptures of bows and braids, scored surfaces of x’s and o’s, light layers of warm butter that seep into soft, risen dough. And when it bakes, oh, how sweet the smell of aromatic bread is to Nanami’s stomach.
Studying the contours of a pretty face— baby fat rounding your cheeks as they pool into a sweet smile, pearly whites displayed brighter than the moonlight leaking through the floral curtains. Your laughter is wholehearted, hands gripping the hem of Nanami’s fleece shirt, body tipping toward his chest as your giggles dispel into the warm, brown-sugar baked air. For a moment he mentally swoons, something of a comforting coo, eyelids heavy and blanketed with the same baking powder littering your handsome face. He relishes the warmth, which leaves just as fast as it arrives, and suddenly you’re reaching into the oven without your cute, fluffy puppy-patterned mittens protecting your hands.
“Wait,” His tone is harsher than intended, solid and thick, and you— the sweet, softheaded boy that you are, don’t entirely deserve the worried look on your face that melts into sharp, hot pain.
“Ouch!” Your elbow smacks into Nanami’s calf as you flinch, fingertips raw and numb— still pulsing from the fresh burn. The man crouches down, knee to ceramic, palm to your warm shoulder, and suddenly your wide eyes are glittering and gleaming. Had the smile from your face not been growing, he’d have been appalled. “‘Nami, did you see that?!”
“Silly boy,” He sucks his teeth, pulling your clasped hands from your chest. Gingerly, he plucks out each finger one by one, runs the pad of his thumb along the burn sites. “You have to be more gentle with yourself.”
And, as if he’d declared to destroy your favorite equipment, your shoulders deflate. Hazel watches as tears well in your eyes in real time— with award winning speed, really— glassy and wet and oh, you’re so cute. It was just a small reminder, nothing too harsh— it could barely be considered scolding. Yet here you are, sniffling and averting your gaze. Eyes glossed over while your fingers instinctively curl over his own for comfort. Then a small, petulant, “M’sorry, ‘Nami.”
“None of that,” Soothing, it's gentle and soft as his thumb travels along the numb pads of your fingertips. And though it was already a faint sensation, you can tell his touches are deliberately featherlight and calculated, cautious. “Nothing to cry about.”
“I’m not crying,” You grumble, though his ears register the sound as a wet sniffle as you rub at your cheek with the back of your free hand. “I don’t do that.”
“Of course not,” The breathy lilt tongue voice gives it all away, a tiny smile dotting the man’s lips. They’re entirely too enticing, a sweet shade of pink that dispels into the milky tan of his skin. Sheen and glazed with what could be spit, your lips part to mirror the same smile. Though yours is larger, his isn’t any less exuberant— luring you in one centimeter at a time until, inevitably, his breath ghosts along the expanse of your jaw— you can almost taste him.
His voice breaks through the thickened silence, “But it’s okay if you do.”
The next two hours should go by just fine.
౨ৎ
“What does ‘default-judgment’ mean?”
Floorboards creak beneath Kento’s feet, dimly lit ambient lighting placed around the office keeps it lit just enough to see ever so clearly— a small lamp angled above an open file, then the remaining trickle of light cascading over photos. Labeled, dated, clipped, and shipped to his front door just a couple weeks ago. Soon to be released, relinquished, deadlined.
His hair drips with cold water, tiny drops dripping down to the floor while others slither down his neck, and pool where his back dips, just slightly. He doesn’t tense when he sees you— his muscles remain just as relaxed as they were in the shower— and his eyes barely widen past the tired, lidded expression that paints his face every night, before he gets his studying done. But you—
You’re the opposite. Your shoulders raise to your ears, eyes wide and unblinking as they stare at the towel wrapped around his thick, slightly hairy forearm— it’s navy blue, with a brown, horizontal stripe across its fabric, and embroidered letters you can’t quite make out. An intelligible sound, then an unexplainable expression, and— there you are, tripping over your own tongue as your hands shoot to cover your eyes. Only unclothed from the waist up, Kento can’t help the amusement blooming in his chest.
“It’s a deduction based on a defendant’s failure to answer. . or appear, in some cases, to a lawsuit or court.” Nanami’s eyes trace the part of your lips behind your palm as your brain processes (though, he doesn’t think that’d be the correct word for it) his words. They purse, quickly, tight lined, until parting again— once more, with less confidence. With each step he takes (long strides that make him appear as if he’s almost floating) he grows closer, strands of freshly washed angel hair sticking to his forehead.
“. S. . ure!” You smile and nod in faux understanding, fingers curling toward the dip of your hairline, eyes peeking through cracked fingers. From there, beneath your palms, an uncomfortable warmth blossoms from your throat up, settling in your cheeks and sprinkling across your nose— sweltering and tingly.
Kento tuts, a soft noise, and you watch as he inhales a deep breath, pine eyes perusing through the space between your fingers for eye contact. “. . . Don’t worry about all that.” And, as if he can feel the high voltages slamming against your heart, his tongue darts out to moisturize his lips, and his eyes fall to your chest. He sits aslant to you, legs spread wide with the occasional sway of his knee— but nothing too sudden. You’re made all too aware of his half-naked proximity, purportedly close enough to feel the warmth of his body radiating through the room— to smell the sweet undertones of vanilla, musk, and earl gray tea residing in his skin. In a low rumble he speaks, pulling lotion free from the drawer to your left. “Silver lining is: I’ll be out of your hair soon.”
Even as he leans forward, closer and closer, he doesn’t cage you in— even if your chest aches at the loss.
Your heart demands the conversation die after that. Beating so rapidly you assume it’s stopped, silence freezes the air as your hands slowly drop to your lap. Lips pulled with woe, darling eyes low and sodden in an instant. Shoulders dropped just enough to sound a sharp creak in the swiveling chair you’re sat in, your lashes clump with fresh, unshed tears. And, in a lapse moment of murkiness, Kento’s lips twitch into a frown of their own.
“What’s wrong?” He asks, as if afraid your response will confirm it— he’s what’s wrong. His choice of words— wrong. Thin brows furrowed, the dip of his chin has his lips ghosting your cheek.
“. . . Nothin’.” It’s worse. He’d expected tears— maybe even an exchange of fiery words— but instead you’ve shut down, hands balled up in the fabric of your flowy pants, denim bunched up and draped over your thighs. Completely silent, staring at nothing and everything— all in between— all at once.
“Nothing?” He echoes, a silent suggestion for more. The rumble in your ear is almost too much, for a moment you assume you’d conjured it up with your imagination. Too close, too bare, too blunt, too warm— too fleeting.
“Mhm,” When your gaze meets, his heart plummets to his stomach. “Nothin’.” Words rush to his tongue before they can catch up to his brain, and. . you look so . . sad. He’s never seen you so defected— nor had he thought the concept of giving up existed for you. So headstrong, determined to make things work, gears always shifting into overdrive when you can’t make something out. You’ve gone as far as to create your own definition— this isn’t you.
“It’s. . . inevitable,” Kento’s voice softens, dropping to a quiet whisper between just the two of you. “But not for a while,” Then shifts his weight back, pulling away as he speaks in some sick sort of oxymoron, “I’m not going anywhere.”
“But you will.” Grumbling, you’ve always been an open-book.
“Not forever.”
“. . . Ever,” You grunt, choosing to ignore the stern quirk of his thin brow. You’re a bit of a brat— Kento sees that now— behind the pouty lips and soft eyes, behind the large smiles and intimidating prowess. “When are you goin’?”
Nanami treads carefully, fingers wrapped around the closed bottle of lotion. With a snap it clicks open, and a generous amount is pumped into his palms. The smell is neutral and muted, but clean and fresh.
Kento tries not to lie— not unless he absolutely needs to. An unexplainable feeling, adjacent to panic, rises in his stomach as he lies, “Six weeks, at least.”
“Nami…” Ignoring the deadline he’d just given you, you ask, “D’you like your job?”
You watch his posture relax, as if the previous conversation was just as emotionally taxing as it was for you, for him. He sighs, pauses to think for a mere second, then shrugs. “I like its structure.”
“Oh.”
“I like helping people, too.” He adds, much more sincere. Your eyes trail the lotion as it’s rubbed into his biceps, his shoulders, his forearms. His fingers flex and muscles ripple, skin bouncing beneath his fingertips, and light traces of hair at his knuckles raising.
“Oh.” You breathe, eyes locked on his veiny hands. You suppose, in a way, your jobs are similar. You, too, help people out— you provide fresh food and crops, you herd cattle and brush the hair of healthy horses. A very hands-on job— it’s rewarding. “Me too. I— I like helping too. And. . .”
His fingers twitch, almost as if they can feel your gaze, but Kento makes no effort to move them.
Six weeks. Time is fleeting.
“I—” With trembling hands you lean forward, clasping Kento’s smooth knuckles against your palm. He’s just as warm as he looks, skin soft and sheen. His fingers flicker in your hold, straining as they tense— silently, asking, ‘what?’ as an increasingly overwhelming urge to keep Kento close washes over you.
It’s moments like these you’d wish you were better with words. To weave them together into something pretty, like a basket made for carrying fresh harvest. To pull apart and braid together an amalgamation of just the right phrases— ones that sound pretty and roll off the tongue. Some that sound soulful and genuine, yet effortless and forthwith at the same time.
Moments like these, where your breath is stuck in your throat and with every rise and fall of his chest you think you’ve lost some more— he’s taken it all from you— you wish you knew just what to say, to do, to bring that air back.
To have him melt at your words the way you do at his actions, to have him feel the same exact thing when your heart clenches in your chest like a rag that’s been wrung out to dry. Without trying, without straining. You wish you were smarter— better at this, as you lean so far from the chair it begins to squeak in protest.
You’re sure there’s better people in Tokyo. With better educational backgrounds, with cleaner jobs. People who have it all together, who have different skills and assets— who don’t stick to one thing simply because they have a natural born talent for it. People who are prettier, more handsome— perhaps more his type. People who have aligning career goals and paths— more accomplishments.
Sweeter, kinder. With softer hands and an easier understanding of city life.
People who are better with words. Who can weave them together into something pretty, like a closed case with no loose ends or dead leads. Who can pull apart and braid together an amalgamation of just the right phrases— ones that sound pretty and roll off the tongue. Who can make their confessions sound soulful and genuine, effortless and forthwith at the same time. All within the heart of Tokyo.
People who aren’t you.
Nanami stands, shuffling over to fix the documents you’d ruined— of course you did— but his face hasn’t changed from his usual tight-lipped expression. Sometimes it’s hard to read him, and it’s times like these you really wish you could.
“I like you,‘Nami.” You whisper to yourself, quietly pouring your heart out with each spoken letter.
And, with a snap, your world goes crumbling down. Increasingly silent, the world stops as you hit the floor and Kento’s chest stills— the soft, quiet beat of his breaths gone quiet, as if it were a mere memory to begin with. The backing of his swiveling chair falls with you, right to the floor, clattering much louder than the sound of your tense body, and—
“Forgive me if I’m wrong, but I think you have the wrong idea.” His voice is strained. Uncomfortable.
You’ve never felt more humiliated.
౨ৎ
Despite your humiliating attempt to hold onto it, time flies by. Locked away in your room— your only source of comfort being an occasional knock on the door from your mother and the weight of your blanket as it remains overhead. You’ve counted the seconds— tripped over your thoughts after reaching 1,633– started over again. You’ve listened to the pitter-patter of rain against your windowsill, peeked out from your cocoon to bet on a race between the raindrops.
You’ve thought about Kento, of course. So much it plagued you, made your chest uncomfortably tight— until all you could do was let out a humiliated groan all over again. It’s a timeless cycle, and yet, it grows closer to his leaving date.
You haven’t spared a glance toward the actual outside, even when your window overlooks his own study. You’re sure everything’s out of sorts now— weeds overtaking the farm, plants dried out or overwatered, any blooming vegetation snipped at the bud before it could bloom. Tough luck, they’ll get over it.
And, God, has your family tried. Through gentle words and offers of food, through soft praises that fell on deaf ears. Through frustration, too, anger laced in the sweetest yell of ‘where’d my smart boy go?’
Your eyelids feel heavy and thick. No longer swollen with tears or bloodshot with dejection— just heavy, simply tired. Sleep is all you’ve done these days, yet it feels like your body can’t get enough. Fifteen hours a day leave you straining for more, three hours a day leave you exhausted. You can barely remember when you last left your bed— for the bathroom, never for a drink— and even when your frown deepens as you think about it, you can’t bring yourself to fix it.
You can’t bring yourself to fix anything as of late, if it can even be fixed.
You were stupid for thinking he’d feel the same, anyway. A man like ‘Nami— a man like Nanami— so smart and so distinguished. So. . opposite of you, to think you’d fall anywhere near the same line as him. . is laughable, really. Even more so when you consider his upbringing. He doesn’t mention it much, and you try not to pry, but you consider his lifestyle quite traditional and cookie-cutter. You hadn’t even asked if he liked men.
“I think you have the wrong idea.”
His rejection physically pains you, a quiet sniffle and suppressed whine straining your vocal cords. Your nails dig into the fleshy, cushiony part of your palm. You can hear the pitch of his voice — rumbling and deep, you hear the shakiness of his breath—so deeply uncomfortable, cold with disgust. “I think you have the wrong idea.”
A knock to your door startles you awake, eyes wide open as your cocooned body flops around in bed. Still, you barely make an effort to respond, dry lips parting to form a garbled groan.
“Your. . . friend was at the door,” It’s your mother’s voice, but softer and pleading. For a moment your heart twists, eyebrows pinched as you suck in a sharp breath through your teeth— you can’t remember the last time you’d seen her face without slamming a door in it. “Looked tired, so I gave him some coffee. . .”
A bitter, disconcerting ‘so?’ nearly leaves your mouth— something so unlike your usual self, it makes you want to borrow deeper into your sheets and never leave. Shame. She doesn’t expect you to crack the door open. You shake your head, even if she can’t see you, only breaking your stubborn resolve when knocks once more, and slowly, you scuttle around the mess of your bedroom to unlock the door. Your eyes carry dark circles and heavy bags as your gaze pierces straight through her. Then, a shaky breath and barely audible whisper, “. . . S’it Nanami?”
Her aged smile is soft and thoughtful as she leans into the doorframe— something you haven’t seen in a while, and your eyes prickle with warm tears once more. “Between you ‘n me, you’re in much better shape.”
Cracking a smile nearly takes all your energy from you.
You don’t bother changing from your pajamas— they’ve always been so baggy to support the muscle you’ve grown over years of lifting heavy produce and working with truckloads— and now you’re grateful for it. Something to hide behind if you need it, and your fingers subconsciously curl into the fabric of your long sleeves for comfort. Once you get downstairs the two of you depart, and a gentle rub to your shoulder blades is all your mother offers before finding solitude on her own, just a few rooms away if you need her.
And— she was wrong. Of course, he looks tired. You can see it in his shoulders— they’re all wound up and tense, like they’d been when you first met. Sure, his jaw is tightened and you can hear the grind of his teeth against one another despite keeping your distance— but he still seems put together, albeit lacking his usual combover or corporate style of clothing.
It hurts to know he does well without you, as selfish as it may sound.
“Hi,” You mumble, rubbing at your face with the palm of your hand. Your voice crackles with disuse, rumbling and garbled in your throat. “Nanami. .”
“Hi,” He echoes, your name heavy on his tongue as he stands, leveling out the shared eye contact. Just Nanami. For a moment he’s at a loss for words— and it’s odd, typically he has an answer for everything. You remember asking why he’d buckle your seatbelt before his own, and his answer was always the same. You remember asking why he likes what he does— and they’d all circle back to enjoying the small things in life. His Kento’s lips part, taken aback by the loss of his nickname, but they close into a tight line with registration. Perhaps you’re just. . too much.
“I lied to you,” He begins, and your heart leaps to your throat. He clasps his hands together, resting soundly by his thighs as his head tilts downward, a silent plea. “And, for that . . . I’m sorry,” Kento releases a breath, hands coming undone to swipe away stray, gold strands of hair. “Don’t feel obliged to accept, I just— I like y— I want to show you something.”
It’s odd. The look on your face makes him want to scoop you up, to cradle you in his arms and hold you tight. And yet, he can see the cogs turning in your brain, the gradual loss of your frown and faux steel in your eyes as you shrug— he can’t even distinguish if you’re being reluctant or stubborn. Nonetheless, Kento smoothens the fabric of his coat, and makes a small, polite gesture to the door.
“Okay.” Your fist rubs sleep from your eyes, steps heavy and dragging along the floor as you slide your feet into brown bunny slippers— the same ones he’d worn when you officially met.
Stepping into the cold, crisp winter air, you both ignore the tremor to your bottom lip, “What were you gonna. . ?”
Not at all hard to spot, set alight by the glow or orange lanterns, it’s your farm. Oh, it’s much prettier than you could’ve ever imagined it. So clean, with pristine rows and neat placements of fresh soils. You can actually walk through it, as opposed to tip-toeing around like you used to. The air is crisp and fresh, just like you’d remembered it— but it feels better than before. And, dotting the horizon, fireflies dance into the night sky and blend into the twinkling stars. You don’t remember the last time you’d seen them— vision occupied by tall grass or obstructed by rusty tools. You could almost cry. Your breath catches in your throat, a gentle breeze brushing along your forehead and digging into the fabric of your clothes— yet you feel light and warm.
He did all this for you?
“Are you cold?” You blink hard, vision blurred with tears as Kento’s hand grasps your shoulder. “You’re shivering.” He’s quick to shrug off his coat, barely even flinching when the fabric dips into fresh mud, and loops it around your form with steady hands.
“M’okay. .” He frowns, barely visible, and the slight protests of being strong enough to tough it out die on your tongue. But it’s true, you don’t feel cold— not internally, at least. You feel light yet heavy, warm and airy. Heat pokes at your skin, ignites in the apples of your cheeks and trails down your throat. “. . . Thank you, ‘Nami. . . For everythin’.”
‘Why're you saying it like that?’ He wants to ask. As if it’s some sort of sick, roundabout way of saying goodbye. His movement stutters, lips curled into a small ‘o’ before reverting back to its usual, thin line; and he speaks, “I don’t just like you.”
Your fist tightens in his coat, fabric twisting to accommodate your grip.
“I. . admire you. Your strength, your weakness. Your baking. . Your smile, too,” He sighs, quiet and cautious. “Your laugh. I regret not telling you before. At first, I thought you were impulsive, and somehow abrasive, bu—”
You’ve never been one to hide from your feelings— you laugh when you’re happy, scowl when you’re angry, mope when you’re sad. So it’s no surprise to feel you smile; wide and unapologetic. It’s no surprise to feel the tremble of your fingers as they release his coat and land on his biceps. To feel the slow, shaking breath of air he releases at your silence— hearing his own slight sniffle at the nippy, cold breeze. You’re nervous, lips twitching as his chin dips, bashful as his lips intertwine with your own.
A kiss.
"’Nami," Laughing into his mouth, it meets the sound of your lips continuously meeting in breathless, heavy harmony. His lips are plush, soft and sweet, hungry and hasty, everything and nothing and all things in between. “I like you. I like you, I like you, I like you.”
You feel it now— the warmth enveloping his chest, the hard hammering of his heart against his ribcage. "Shit," He whispers, incredulous, and before slowly pulling away, cradles your handsome face between his calloused “I like you too.”
౨ৎ
Kento owns silk pillows. You can tell they’re imported from home— as they disturb the uniform colors of the crisp, cream comforter set blanketing his bed. It’s the first thing you notice, head sinking into the fabric as your eyes flutter closed, thoughts and breaths stolen with each wet, heavy kiss being pressed against your lips. His breath is hot and heavy, small groans and grunts leaving his parted lips, and— he tastes of chocolate.
“Kenny—” You gasp, but the sound of his name on your lips only eggs him on. Hot heat blooms in your stomach, tingling down to your tummy, so deep, something you’ve never really felt before. It tingles, almost, right through your thighs and straight to your cock, plumping up with each passing second. And his hands, god, are so quick and skilled— shedding you of your clothing as if he’s done it a million times before.
“Kenny,” You repeat, much whinier than before, tiny sounds leaving your lips as you squirm in his hold. “Mm, wait,” and his response is barely committal, a low hum that melts into a breathy sigh as your bare skin is exposed and your leaking cock springs free against your tummy. He coos, peeling the sticky fabric of your underwear free. Cute.
“Use your words,” Kento mumbles against your skin, running his hands along the silky smooth skin of the back of your thighs. “I know you can, you’re a smart boy.” You squirm with every touch, plush skin bouncy as you press your thighs together, cock sliding by your navel. And, even when you hide, he can see the precum smearing against your stomach, the tightening of your balls, and, now, your exposed hole winking back at him.
Fuck.
“Mm, don’t look,” You’ve barely convinced yourself, a choked out moan leaving your lips as his big, warm hand wraps around your cock and pumps. “That’s— oh, embarrassin’!” Slow, at first, trailing up the sensitive shaft and rubbing circles into the overly-sensitive head. Until his hand is slick with precum and his own spit, until your thighs are convulsing and you’re close to covering yourself in your own cum. Until you’re sobbing, pulling at his wrist with weak, clammy hands.
“I know, sugar. I know,” And the stifled cry you've been hearing belongs to you. “Feels good, hm?” His free hand grazes down your waist, thumbing at the dip between your hip and your thigh, then cupping the soft, plush skin of your pecs. “Feels better than your own hand, doesn’t it?” Kneading until your nipples harden against his palm, soft skin swelling around his fingers. And, oh, how pretty you are when you cry, overstimulated tears rolling down your cheeks and incoherent babbles leaving your swollen lips.
“Uh— huh, yeah,” Is barely breathed out, and Kento watches pre leak over his knuckles. Creamy and thick, sticky and sweet as your hips rock back and forth, to and fro. You just can’t help yourself, greedy boy, fucking into his fist like it’s the best thing you’ve ever felt and— oh.
It is.
“Messy boy,” He huffs, pressing his forehead against your own— damp and sticky. Your hand, preoccupied with fisting his sheets, is grabbed, and all you can feel is slick, hot heat. “Fuck your fist for me.”
“Wh- Huh?” It takes a moment for your brain to catch up to your hands, wrapped tightly around your cock as your hips buck— whines high and loud in your throat, keening like a puppy. It’s not at all paced, not like Kento, just pure desperation and need as your toes curl and your eyes roll back into your skull. Warmth rises in your face as your legs instinctively part, tingles spreading through your body and needy moans filling the air. Wet and sloppy, your hand is slick and soaked.
He travels lower, lips trailing down your throat, your collarbones— pausing at your chest. He watches the rise and fall, the slight bounce of your pecs as you pant like a dog. Pretty buds hard and sensitive, a gentle suckle is enough to make you arch from the sheets and keen.
“Good boy, that’s it,” You have the urge to get on your knees, to present all your holes to him, to spread yourself open with your fingers- fucking them in and out, in and out, just for Kento. It’s all too much, thinking of what’s next, what’s happening now, what’ll happen later.
Nanami lifts his shirt over his chest, the fabric bunching under your armpits as he keeps it pinned between his teeth, and you have no other choice but to flutter your lashes, watching as his pants are loosened and his cock springs free. Big. Thick and long— and, it seems his tan has traveled to his cock, too. Blushing at the tip, the sweet color of mocha, it disappears the further you look down. Curved, too, slightly past his belly-button and heavy against his navel. It's humiliating, the way your mouth waters almost immediately.
It’d feel so good weighing down on your tongue, fucking your throat fast and rough, making you gag and sputter— choking on your own tears and groans.
“Wanna. . I want. . .” You squirm where you lay, whining high in your throat as you find nowhere to hide— nothing to put your face against, nowhere to bury the drunk, hazy expression on your face.
“Want what?” He murmurs, pretty eyes trailing along the curves of your face before he places a sweet, soft kiss along the edge of your jaw. You take the grip on your waist as a slight indication— Kento’s patience is slowly waning.
“V’never. .” Your lips part into a gasp, eyes fluttering closed as his large hands travel along the expanse of your chest. “I wanna. . . feel you in my throat.”
The smart man he is, Nanami, never misses a beat. Pink lips splitting into a small smile, his thumb rubs circles against your skin. Still, you can feel the throb and twitch of his cock against your thigh, hard and almost leaking. “That’s ambitious, sugar.”
You don’t register scrambling up by your elbows, nor the amount of time it takes for your fingers to fail at wrapping around his cock. Your thoughts are muffled and hazy until a quiet chuckle sounds above you— rumbly and deep, and— ah, Kento’s hand is guiding your head back as he pulls your hands free. You’re panting for it now, mouth dropped open as the slurp and slick noise of his cock tapping against your tongue drops straight to your stomach. You could cum from this alone, without even a single glance toward the ache between your thighs.
"M'gonna be so good, promise, know I can do it! Want it, Sir," A clear habit of rambling when you’re nervous, a soothing coo leaves Kento’s throat. His tip smears along your pillowy lips, sticky and salty as pre paints your chin.
“Shit,” He groans under his breath, fisting his cock to ease the ache in his balls. “Slow. I don’t want to hurt you. Gentle, remember?”
You don’t. You can barely think, let alone recall something from another day. But you nod anyway, eyes glued to his cock as it bobs to and fro— pretty and weeping. You bet it’ll feel so heavy, weighing down on your tongue and nearly crushing your throat as you gag around it. He’ll taste good, too, salty and sweet as he buries his cock down your throat. With your nose pressed into the blond of his pubes, and his balls slick against your chin as they tighten and clench.
Yeah, you want him to cum on your face.
With a whiny nod you take his tip into your mouth, pink tongue over your teeth. In your head, it’s much easier— you can sink down to the base no problem— but in practice. . . You sputter and gurgle, leaning into the gentle touch caressing your cheek as your tongue traces the pulsing, thick vein cascading down his shaft. Through your pathetic whimpers and whines he mumbles— but it falls on deaf ears.
You stick out your tongue, cute and pink, latches onto your bottom lip, slicking his slit as he blinks down at you, pupils blown and wide as he praises you, voice smooth and buttery.
Through your own jittery, inexperienced suckling, his tip is smeared along your lips, slowly tracing your cupid's bow and bottom lip until a thin layer of pre has them glazed over and sticky. Your lips part, carrying a thin trail of creamy pre between them, as his dick slides in and out your hot, wet mouth. Spreading heavy along your tongue, swallowing around the head as his thighs tense, muscles flexing and rippling as they strain to keep still.
“‘Nami’s dick is heavy, sweetheart,” He’s gasping before you can fully take in the stretch of his cock, hips twisting as his eyes flutter closed. It’s been a while, you can tell, with the way his balls are clenched tight, his hand morphed into a fist— careful not to grip your hair. Your spit bubbles and pools around his cock, slick and wet, sliding between the seams of your lips and dripping down your throat, down your sternum, down his thighs. “And you’re taking it so well.”
Running your tongue along his big, veiny cock, his head falls forward— adam’s apple bobbing as he lets out a pleased moan. His cock fills your empty mouth, stuffing it full like a pre-lubed fleshlight, his balls slapping against your chin in sticky, wet plaps. Collecting drool, it froths between your lips and his cock, bubbly and white until your noises are sloppy and loud. “That’s it, good boy, take this load down your pretty little throat. . .”
Gasping on his cock, Kento’s hand holds you close, until you’re buried against his pubes, until your throat is squeezing and contracting and wrapped plush around the thick shaft of his dick. You can feel it, each and every twitch and throb, each hit, sticky rope that paints your mouth as he cums down your throat, ropes shooting down your tongue and sticking to the roof of your mouth. You’ve done so good, such a good boy, marked for Sir, offering a few hollow sucks to his spasming cock before he pulls you off.
You’d rather he paint your face, but you trust him, swallowing the bitter, salty cream as he whispers gentle praises.
“You’re perfect,” Kento mumbles through heavy gasps, rubbing away the fat tears that roll down your cheeks. Such a sweet, pliant boy, leaning into his touch as he gently pushes you back down, off your knees.
Now he’s got you folded, knees bent back in such a slutty, shameless display. The blond squeezes at his cock, his large hand sliding into a fist that clamps down around his beading, shiny slit, then slowly back down to the thick, veiny shaft. Yeah, that’s good, how it slips and slides with rhythmatic pumps. You’d like to imagine that’s how it’ll be when his cock is inside, stretching past your rim and splitting you open, sliding against your velvety walls until he fills you up with his hot, sticky cum.
“Spit,” he says, gentle at first, but hardening as your poor, pitiful attempt at spitting down your own cock turns into gurgles of drool and incoherent moans. He grips your jaw, angling it just right— till you’re resting back on your elbows and have enough space to land a warm, wet glob right down the slit. “Good boy. Look at me, pretty. Like this.”
You watch as he spits down onto his own cock, runny and wet, which stands as a reminder of its own. His fist is so big, but it’s not nearly enough to swallow his cock down. You watch it pop free from his tight grip, loud squelches with each and every movement. Every time he throbs, pulses, shifts— you hear it all.
“That’s it, atta boy, my good little cocksleeve,” You— it must be you, there’s no one else he’s speaking to. Still, with your hand squeezing your throbbing shaft there’s not much you can say, airy little moans and sweet, high gasps leaving your pouty lips as you buck— up, up, up. A thin trail of drool slips down your chin, warm and wet and— oh, that’s nice— trailing down your cock. “That’s it, stick your tongue out.”
You really do play the part, tongue on display as you fuck your fist silly, bumping slits with the blond. Soft and sticky, loud and wet squelching until his own large, warm palm envelops both your cocks, bumping and grinding and sliding so messy. You nearly burst into hysterics when the warmth is gone, and Nanami’s gaze tears away from the pre oozing between your shafts. “Ask Sir for more, angel.”
“Mm, waitwaitwait, don’t— don’t stop,” You keen, stumbling over your tongue. Your brows pinch, eyes glazed over with unshed tears. “Kenny— Sir, please.”
“Good boy,” All but purring, his hands roam along the plush, round mounds of your ass. “Yeah,” His dick slips between the slick skin of your perineum, dragging along the sensitive skin— the head of his cock catching on your rim when his thrusts turn too eager. “You’re a good boy, asking like that.”
“You like grinding on Sir's cock don’t you? Getting me all wet. . .” Just as warm and wet as he’d thought, cooped up in his office and fucking into his fist, lube gushes and trickles out with every deliberate, shallow rut forward. Your balls bounce and twitch, slick and shiny with a mixture of pre. Your moans, so pretty, high and nasally— incoherent and blabbering. The slurp of his cock goes straight to your balls, tightening as you whine like a bitch for it. And his grip, once gentle and steady, leads down to your ass, keeping it spread as he slides the big head of his cock along your pretty little rim, again, and again, and again. It’s more menuevering than bouncing, through your fucked out haze you try to think; you want him to ruin you.
A knot tightens in your tummy, tingling in your balls as your thighs tighten and your legs tremble— fuck, you’re cumming, hard and all at once, it catches you off guard and a choked squeal is knocked from your throat, rope after rope spraying along your own chest.
“I—” You sob, cock convulsing against your tummy as Kento groans. “I didn’t mean to— didn’t know, m’sor—”
He hushes you, a low growl in his throat as his eyes roam up your tummy, past your hard nipples and land on the splatter of cum collecting between the plush hills of your pecs. “S’okay, it just felt too good, mhm? I bet your pussy feels so good, baby— perfect, pretty little pussy swallowing up my cock.”
You don’t expect him to say that— that’s the last thing you expect, eyes rolling back in your skull as you moan, wholehearted and slutty. With the wet squeeze of lube along your bottom half, slicker and sloppier than ever before, your hole winks back at him. Your perfect, pretty little pussy. “That okay, sweetheart? Can Sir pound this hole till it aches for him?”
Your response is barely coherent, garbled sounds and babbling that roughly translates to ‘please’ as thick fingers prod at your tight, puckered hole. Your loud moans are hushed as Kento leans down, close to your ear. His fingers slide against your entrance, sticky lube sliding along with them and connecting to your puffy rim. They feel so big, so long and thick when he taps them against your hole, barely breaching the tiny gape of your rim. “Gonna get you ready for Sir’s dick, gonna finger that cunt nice and slow, get that sweet boy-hole stretched out.”
“Kenny,” You hiccup, uncontrollable tears streaming down your face as you reach forward to press his fingers closer, a tiny gasp leaving your lips as your entrance is breached. You don’t miss the groan you earn in return, deep and shaky as the man takes the opportunity to slip his fingers right in, past the burning stretch of your fluttering ‘cunt’ that sucks the digits deeper and deeper into your gummy walls. “Can take it, pound it, Sir.”
“Look at me, watch me, sugar. Watch Sir fuck this little hole full.” You squeeze your eyes shut for as long as the reluctant, bratty little part of your brain lets you before staring down into hazel. Until his fingers have you seeing stars and rocking back into them like a cock hungry slut, you’ve never felt more full until his cock kisses your insides, leaving you sloppy and open and full.
Your voice isn’t nearly as loud as the wet squelch and slap of skin against skin, his cock sliding in and out your puffy hole as lube gushes out around his dick in white ringlets. Like you’ve creamed on his cock, he can see it slip back inside with each thrust. Your knees over his shoulders, Kento hauls your body up, and with a tiny, wee and pathetic ‘ah!’ you follow suit, your cute little hole clenching and fluttering around his thick, leaking cock.
“Give me a little more, just a little more of this pussy,” You can’t contain the squeals and squeaks that leave your mouth when the blond pistons his hips, a bruising grip on your waist that only gets harder as he grinds his cock down into you. He’s filling you up so good, his balls slapping against your ass with each rushed, rough thrust that has your mind scrambled just as much as your guts. You can’t take it, hands scrambling to grab at something, anything that’ll keep you from screaming.
Pounding into you, your head falls back as you take it, nice and slow, stretching you out— fast and rough, steady and patient— Kento groans above you, bullying his cock inside, grinding while your hips squirm. Mouth open with an unending stream of moans, he breaks you in, turns you into his good boy— his perfect fleshlight. Wet little hole clenching and spasming, his weight pins you down as your greedy hole milks him for all he’s worth.
“Cummin’, Nami, s’too much— M’can’t—” Whining and crying, his touches go right to your head as much as they do your puffy hole."Kenny," you whine, long and pitiful, a pout of a noise that hits him right where you want it to, just as his cock does inside of you. You whine again when your rocking turns into frantic overstimulated grinding, reveling in the stretch of his cock and the rub of your prostate. He groans, thick and gravelly, hands coming up to squeeze at your chest.
“I’ve got you, c’mere, hold Sir’s hand,” He chokes out, feeling it too. The tightening of his balls, the way his dick aches and pulses inside you, the way his cum is starting to kiss your insides and spurt straight onto that small bundle of nerves— fuck, it’s so deep. His thrusts are hard and deep, thick rope after thick rope frothing around his shaft as he fucks it deeper inside. “So good for me,” You never want it to stop, not the pump of his cock, not the drag of his tip against your entrance, not the filthy sounds, not the cum filling up your hole till you can’t move. Your grip on his knuckles is tight, nails digging into the skin of his hands. “That’s it, such a pretty boy, cumming on my cock.”
A searing knot of pressure grows in your stomach, filling as you bear down on his cock and sob on your whimpers. For a minute you think you’re going to pass out, everything going dark as you spurt all over yourself, globs of cum spraying hard onto your chin and splashing back on the blond. He makes you ride it out, offering hard, shallow thrusts to satiate the erratic spasming of your hole, and places a few sweet, tender kisses to your sweaty jaw.
౨ৎ
You wake with a small moan, limbs racked in small aches as your body melts into silk sheets. It smells like him: warm, cozy, and comforting, like a hug. Grateful for the dim, ambient lighting of his bedroom, your eyelids flutter open slowly, and there’s not much to adjust to. You’re clean— its the first thing you notice, a faint scent of soap lingering on your skin as your aching body scrambles for Kento’s warmth.
“I’m here,” He says behind you, hairs on your neck standing straight as you blink at him. Carrying a glass of ice water and a plate of meringue cookies— whisked perfectly. Cute, cloud-like spirals that sit on a porcelain plate— the same ones he watched you make, a smile pulls at your cheeks. “Hungry?” The muscles of your biceps flex as you push yourself up, body subconsciously leaning toward the blond until he’s sat next to you, his touches gentle and fleeting.
He feeds you a cookie, watches your teeth sink into the sweet, then wipes away the remnants of sugar from your lips. So tender, your heart flutters when he takes a bite after you— an indirect kiss.
He swallows, throat bobbing, lashes batting against his high cheekbones, before parting his lips, “I was thinking of extending my stay.”
The room feels ten times brighter, ten times louder, and yet, your heartbeat overpowers it all.
“I like you,” The words tumble from your mouth, almost as if he hadn’t just spent the last hour taking you apart and building you back up. You have nothing to lose, and everything to gain. “I more-than-like you, Kenny.”
And, without missing a beat, Kento answers truthfully this time.
“I love you too.”
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April Drabbles - 15/31
Prompt: Art Supplies
Pairing: Nanami x Fem! Reader
“What’s the surprise?” you giggle as Nanami leads you by the hand into one of the rooms of his house. He’d been very secretive of late.
He pushes open the door and gestures expansively as you walk in, eyes widening with delight. The room was set up like an art studio, complete with blank canvases, easels, and art supplies of every kind imaginable, all neatly organized into labeled wooden drawers. Paints, charcoal, brushes, colored pencils, whatever struck your fancy.
“I wanted you to have space for your art."
You hug him tightly, unable to contain your joy.
“I’ll use it whenever I’m here.”
“About that.” He quickly kisses your lips. “Move in with me.”
April 2024 Drabbles Masterlist
divider by @/ thecutestgrotto
prompts by @/ creativepromptsforwriting
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Pussydrunk Nanami who comes back from a stressful mission and finds his pretty girlfriend sleeping on the bed in his shirt. He undoes his tie, and his jacket and blouse hit the floor in no time. Kento gently hovers over you, planting gentle kisses on your face eventually moving down to your neck and collarbone. His cold fingertips slip past the shirt, rubbing the warm flesh of your stomach and hips softly. "Baby..." He kisses up to your ear, nibbling on it, his voice thick with lust. When you don't wake up, he lifts up the shirt over your breasts, leaning in, Kento takes one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking on it. Your mouth parts slightly, and your breathing gets heavier. Moving onto the other nipple, he spreads your legs, his erection brushing directly at your clothed pussy, that's when a quiet moan escapes your lips, your eyes open. "There you are..." Nanami moves on, kissing down your stomach all the way to your inner thighs, your legs spread allowing him to go further. Your hands fly to his blonde hair, running through it as he bites into your inner thighs, leaving small marks in his wake. His eyes look up at you as he slides your panties down your legs, he didn't even take his glasses off. Without another word, he starts to lap on your pussy, flicking his tongue on your wet folds. Your hips buck, a loud whimper follows. His fingers dig into your thighs, his mouth working magic on you. Kento continues to assault your cunt, alternating licking and sucking your clit and teasing your entrance with his finger. "You taste amazing, baby." He grunts against your wet folds. Nanami hated working overtime but he loved coming home to you and waking you up like this...
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