all about y/n @allaboutyn - Tumblr Blog

Mar 24

°˖✧ F O R E V E R ✧˖°

⭑ pairing: sugar daddy!nanami kento × female reader ⭑ word count: 13,970k ⭑ content warnings: mentions of abuse, ptsd, depression, anxiety, explicit sexual content, mentions of selfharm, age gap by 8 years, loss of virginity, blood and injury, broken bones, domestic abuse, canon typical violence, alcohol, shibuya incident arc, major character death, sprinkles of slice of life, angst, nsfw, slow burn, mutual pining, established situationship ⭑a/n: canonverse, sugar daddy ⭑a/n: playlist for this piece ⭑ synopsis: keeping you at arms length isn't enough anymore, but what can he do when he's built a lie around your entire relationship? how can he shape his life around you as easily as you have for him?

“PRINCESS,” he sighs, “just pick one out.” he leans against the wall while he waits for you to finish trying on whatever you’re trying on. he didn’t even look when you went into the dressing room.

it’s his day off, and as much as he loves spending time with you, he’s exhausted and just wants to go home and sleep.

“b-but i don’t know which one to pick,” you huff from behind the thin door before grabbing one of the dresses you like the most and shoving it between the small crack you’d made. “here.”

as soon as the dress makes it into nanami’s hands, you shut the door and lock it behind you.

nanami isn’t sure what’s wrong, but he knows whatever it is, you don’t mean to take it out on him. you’ve done this before and, although you’ve never talked about it, you always find your way back.

but what could it be?

anxiety? maybe.

depression getting the best of you? possibly.

you stopped going to therapy a few weeks ago, said it wasn’t doing anything to help.

is it because he’s getting busier?

the both of you have gone from spending almost every day together to barely seeing each other twice a week. and he’s noticed it makes you agitated when you do eventually see each other.

he’s always treating you with the utmost respect and—

maybe that’s the problem.

did you want something more? he’ll give you anything you ask for so if that’s all you want… why don’t you just ask?

kento’s used to showering you with gifts, but he’s never tried to move any further than that.

and he’d never admit to being jealous, but you’d huff and puff openly when someone would flirt with him.

he hears you sniffle behind the door, the sound of you tugging on your clothes. you fling open the burgundy door, eyes wide when they land on the barely there smile and the store bag in his hand.

his head tilts to the side, obvious signs of concern flitting across his features.

“what’s wrong?” you shrug, looking down at your hands. “you were crying.” you shake your head, following him out of the store.

“thank you for this,” she whispers, fingers wrapping around the handles of the paper bag, but he wouldn’t let it go. “i can hold it.”

“not until you tell me what’s wrong.” you frown, huffing. huffing at him.

he does this all the time.

maybe he still sees you as a measly college student whose life he saved. maybe he… only sees you as someone he’s responsible for; a child — a stray he picked up off the streets and provided food and shelter for until she’s ready to find her forever home.

well, i already found it, so keep me.

“it doesn’t matter what’s wrong,” you mutter finally. “you’re probably tired, so you can just drop me off at home.” you try to keep your tone even, but it just comes out cracked and dry.

kento peers down at you. didn’t you want to spend more time with him?

“we’re not going home until you eat.”

sure, he’s being a little contradicting, and sure he wanted to leave in the store earlier, but food is the only way to coax any problems out of you and right now, he doesn’t care about how tired he is.

his free hand tangles with yours, just as it always does when you walk in the mall together, and he loves the reaction it causes.

your cheeks darken and your pulse quickens.

your stomach flips as if it were the first time.

nanami kento is older; by about eight years, but due to the exhaustion coating his features, people think he’s well over thirty when he’s just barely turned it. standing at over six feet, he towers over you — broad shoulders, calloused hands and toned muscles. you’re small, standing nearly a foot shorter than him — delicate features and a slim frame.

people often mistake you for eighteen, or a senior in high school when you’ve already graduated college.

you always have to deal with the staring, the whispers behind your back. on good days, you’re able to ignore them but… today’s not a good day.

“you don’t have to hold my hand.”

“i always hold your hand.”

“we-well, yeah, but— people are staring.”

“they usually do.”

meekly, you sigh. nanami tugs you into a small corridor, gently pressing your back to the concrete.

“what has gotten into you?” he asks, not unkindly. his blonde hair falls out of place on his forehead, eyes glances down at you behind his glasses. “something’s got you worked up.”

“i-i don’t know what you mean.”

“just one of those days?” his voice is quiet, reserved just for you. he knows “those days” very well.

“n-no, it’s not.” you don’t want it to be.

he’s tired, you can see if all over his face — the bags under his eyes, his slumped shoulders.

he doesn’t want to deal with this at the moment, and if you’re not going to answer, he really will just bring you home and go to bed… but he made himself a promise a long time ago that he wouldn’t leave you all alone to suffer in silence. not again.

he takes your hand again, quiet this time, and leads you to a restaurant. he’ll get you to talk somehow.

— ♡ —

you let me know when you’re done. i’ll pick you up.

another text unanswered.

three days; six unanswered texts, four unanswered phone calls, but every time he shows up to your apartment, you’ll smile, invite him in for dinner and you’d talk as if you hadn’t been ignoring him.

he always assumed he was so easy to talk to, especially with you. you had opened up to him; slowly, but surely. you talked about almost everything with him, so why, why, why aren’t you answering him now?

were you in trouble again?

are you hurting? are you hurting yourself?

“—ami? nanamin? oi, sensei-” yuji’s voice cuts through kento’s thoughts, through his memories as his dark eyes focus on the student in front of him.

“i’m not your sensei.”

the concern on the pinkette’s face slightly dissipates when he smiles. “is everything okay? is it about,” yuji looks around to make sure no one is around, “you know who?” ah, yes. as much as nanami has tried keeping you a secret from his colleagues, aka gojo specifically, and his student, it was nearly impossible. especially when said white-haired sorcerer had access to nanami’s phone when he wasn’t around.

“she’s been…” nanami sighs, closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair. it’s no use to keep it from the high schooler. gojo would simply figure it out and tell him anyway. “she’s just been a little distant, is all. i’m just unsure of the problem.”

the boy hums, sitting backwards in a chair. “do you think that maybe she wants something more than what you have together?”

“huh?”

“like maybe she wants… an actual relationship.”

nanami hates to admit that maybe yuji is right… but wouldn’t you have told him that if that’s what you really want?

before the blonde can say anything else, gojo popped his head into the classroom and smiled. “i’m stealing yuji for a moment.”

kento lets his mind wander for a moment, but not too long. his phone lights up brightly the moment a message is received.

princess ♡ i’m finished. i’ll wait outside

“you’re awfully quiet,” you mutter, looking at the man from the corner of your eye. his grip on the steering wheel tightens and so does the feeling in your stomach.

had you upset him?

“i didn’t forget so-something, right?” kento just shakes his head. “th-then, what is it?”

“you’ve been distant,” his voice is quiet, matter of fact. “i want to know why.”

you can’t deny it. you know you’re being avoidant. you’d open every message of his, let every phone call ring until it had gone to voicemail, but when he stands in front of you, the concern in his eyes, all you can do is smile.

god, it makes your head spin.

you shrug, because you don’t know what else to do.

“do you want to get dinner?” velvety smooth. you nod, and he turns down the road towards your favorite ramen spot. it’s down the street from your apartment, a little hole in the wall.

“i don’t deserve the way you treat me,” you whisper finally, stirring your soup.

he knew getting food in your system would help and now that you’re eating, he’s feeling a little less anxious than he was earlier.

“why do you think that?”

patient. he has to be patient.

“because,” you eat slowly, contemplating. “i don’t deem myself as someone who’s deserving of the kindness you’re so willing to give.”

nanami takes a moment to lean on the table; elbow on the wood, chin in his palm. he resembles gojo for a moment.

he takes the time to admire the woman in front of him — admiring the way you curl in on yourself when you’re in public and the way you take your time to eat. he admires the way your nose scrunches when you slurp in the noodle too fast, causing the soup to launch onto your face; admires when you look at him - timid and patient - waiting for an answer.

“you deserve much more than you’ll ever give yourself credit for.” his hand finds yours across the table and you willingly accept it into your palm. he squeezes your hand gently. “i want you to start therapy again.”

you want to say no; that it doesn’t help, but his words are laced with worry and you’ve only ever heard it a few times in the five years you’ve known one another.

“okay.”

you poke his cheek, giggling quietly. with a tilt of your head, your pointed nail strikes his soft skin again.

kento smiles his signature tired smile.

“i was talking to you.” you pout, trying to stop yourself from smiling.

“what did you say?”

“i was asking what you wanted for dinner. it’s my turn to cook.” he hums, taking a moment to think about it as he wraps his arm around the back of the couch and fingers brushing your shoulder.

“let’s just order delivery. you look cozy right now.”

he loves when you wear his - rarely ever worn - hoodies. you look so cozy in them, but also, you look like you’re swimming in them.

“sounds even better.” you lean back in the cushions, turning to drape your legs over nanami’s lap, phone out to order the food.

it’s rare when he has a moment to look around your apartment, to admire the decoration. the way you’ve made this place your own; your home.

there’s three photos on the wall, framed and designed in an upward staired pattern. at the bottom of the frame is the names of who’s inside and dates of when it was taken.

the lowest one is a photo of you and yuji smiling at the camera, gojo hiding in the background with a peace sign in the air. the middle photo is of you and gojo making goofy faces, and the last is of you and nanami. you’re pressed into his side, face smushed against his pec.

the last photo was taken a few months ago, and it was one of kento’s favorite days.

your eyes zero in on what he’s looking at and you feel yourself smile.

“your smile is always so nice to look at,” you whisper. you shift your position, sitting beside him now and resting your head on his shoulder. “i think that was the first time i met yuji.”

you always thought he was a little odd for having two extra eye creases beneath his own, but you never mentioned it. eventually you got used to it.

“i think so too.”

you’re so beautiful. from the day he met you to this very moment, kento has never stopped admiring how gorgeous you are.

you get up from your spot beside him, going back into the kitchen as you ask, “do you want to stay the night?” kento turns towards you, watching you walk away. “i still have your extra clothes from last time, and i know it’s not raining or anything, but you’re been working so hard lately and—”

“i’d like that.”

he’s not going to deny himself this. not this time.

he’s allowed one selfish moment once in a while, right?

— ♡

blood. there’s so much blood. the sound of it in your ears. your lungs are burning. you can swear you hear your name being called, but it could just be from the sudden blow to your head. fuck, what is that ringing sound? your unfocused eyes flit across the room, fingers shaking as you lift your hand and hit something solid. when did the ground move? was that a wall? where am i? “—’ere, i’m here. i have to move you.” who is that? “hey, look at me. focus on me.” the sudden movement of your legs elicit a gurgled, choked cry. it’s a sound he never wants to hear again. a murmured apology fills your ears, but he refuses to put you down. your eyes barely focus, hazy as your mind makes out the outline of the man in front of you. kento. you sputter, the blood that had pooled in your throat and mouth, spilling down the sides as you mutter an apology. vignette frames your vision as you zero in on the crimson stained blue button down. “yo-your shirt… i-i’m so-hic-rry,” you cough and see the way his eyebrows crease. don’t cry. “satoru! satoru, get in here—”

you gasp loudly, choking on your own saliva as liquid trickles down your forehead. you touch your head, pulling your hand back to find only sweat. the sweat that’s sticking your body to the sheets. you try to swallow as many breaths as you can. your hearing is flooded, the blood pounding inside your ears so loudly that you barely hear the sound of your bedroom door hitting the wall. your eyes frantically search the room, blonde tufts coming into view and dark eyes searching yours.

he takes your hand silently, sitting on the edge of the bed. he doesn’t say anything for several minutes; he doesn’t know what to say, so he just holds your trembling hand as you cry.

kento won’t mention the fact that he woke up prior to you screaming from his own nightmare, his hands shaking and stomach churning. he won’t mention how he woke up and still saw your blood drenching his hands and chest. he won’t mention how severely lightheaded he was in the hospital — to the point gojo had to hold him upright so he could breathe.

“i was just making some tea, let me get you some.” neither of you move. not until you crawl into his lap and he lifts you into his arms. “i even got you this really cute mug i think you’d like.”

his voice is always so nice.

you nestle your face into his shoulder, eyes closing once more as you finally feel safe again.

you’re not sure when it happened, but suddenly, he’s sitting you on the counter while he moves to heat the kettle.

neither of you mention the lie he told about making the tea.

he hands you a mug, your fingers warm and you bring it to your face to feel the steam on your skin.

“pandas…” you whisper, the black and white animal painted perfectly on the mug in your hands.

“i had a dream,” he starts, “that you owned a bunch of dogs. so many, you didn’t even know what to do with all of them.”

you giggle quietly, leaning your head against his chest. his heart’s racing against his ribs, but he feels so calm, so safe.

he’ll lose sleep every night if it means getting to hold you.

kento🩵 meet me at home, i need your assistance.

you frown at the message on your screen, double checking to make sure you didn’t imagine it.

you knock on kento’s door once more.

“kento? i’m here.” a loud thud comes from the other side and you quickly grip the handle to try and pry it open. “kento? let me—” the door flies open, a gaunt and bloodied nanami stands in front of you, towel over his hip and sweat making his blonde strands stick to his forehead.

all you can do is gently push your way into the apartment and lock the door behind you.

“what happened?” your eyes water quickly and you’re cursing yourself for being so in love with this man that even the smallest scrape would make you cry. don’t cry.

his fingers graze over your cheekbones, moving up to your forehead and thumbing over the crease between your eyebrows.

“i’m okay. it’s okay. i just— i need you to stitch it. it’s in too awkward of a place for me to do it on my own.”

“i- i- we should take you to the hospital.” you sniffle, and kento slips his free arm around your shoulders. you pout, hands pressing against his chest to try to push him away. you fail though. he’s too strong. “i’m gonna hurt you.”

“you’re not. just stitch it for me first, and we’ll go later.” you take a deep, shaky breath before nodding once. kento releases you, showing you the way to his bathroom, using his grip on your shoulder to steady himself.

you’re quick to grab the first aid kit sitting on the toilet.

“how did you hurt yourself?” your voice is barely above a whisper and he hates himself for it. he’s panicking internally and he’s trying to calm his breathing as you pull the towel and gauze back from his skin.

you don’t know the extent of what he does for a living. you just know he used to work in finances and now he teaches in tokyo. he has irregular hours because of yuji needing extra help.

he can’t — he won’t — tell you how a curse with stitches across his body had tried to morph the shape of his very soul.

you won’t understand, and quite frankly, he doesn’t want you to.

you have been through far too much anguish in your life; you don’t need to know the horrors human emotions can create.

“it’s not important.”

“it is!” you shout, your voice cracking and eyes widening as you stare at the gash on his hips. “it’s important to me.” you’re quieter this time and it causes nanami to frown, sighing deeply as his hand finds your hip.

“i’ll tell you another time, okay? when things make more sense.”

“promise?”

kento doesn’t make promises — especially ones he can’t keep — but this time… this time he has to.

he has to if it means easing your mind even a little bit. he has to if it means it’ll keep the tears from falling down your cheeks more times than they already have.

“i promise.”

“wa-wait, it won’t fit.” you’re startled, looking up at the snow haired man. he nods, smirking. “it’s too much.”

“sure it will. you just have to shove it.” gojo’s eyes curve into little crescents before taking the bits of meat from your hands and putting them between the pieces of bread.

just as you suspect, the bread doesn’t last very long and splits open right as gojo is about to eat it.

“don’t eat it, you’ll have a heart attack.” you squeak, smacking the long limb as he quickly shovels the pieces of fallen food into his mouth. you puff your cheeks out, leaning against the back of kento’s chair, amused as gojo insists on not wasting anything.

“so,” the tall man hums, mouth full of sandwich. his hand presses to the top of nanami’s desk as he swallows and leans over. “have you guys had sex yet?”

“gojo!” your cheeks tingle as you cover your red face from his inspecting gaze. he laughs heartily, plopping down in his own chair. “you can’t just ask that.”

“but i did.” a teasing lilt in his voice as he smiles.

“no.”

“why not?” you peak through your fingers, eyes meeting the black blindfold. “shy?”

“n-no.”

“then what?”

ugh, how do you tell kento’s senior that you don’t know what you’d be doing even if the offer was on the table.

you’re still a virgin.

but… this man does know kento better than anyone else. they grew up together and fought alongside each other — they teach yuji together. would it be so wrong to ask?

and maybe if you’re able to learn what kento likes, the offer can be placed gently on the table in front of the blonde.

“idontknowwhatimdoing.”

“come again?” gojo, being the absolute menace he is, is completely amused by the woman in front of him. he exposes one of his eyes from underneath the blindfold.

you sigh, “i don’t know what i’m doing.” you drop your hands into your lap. “i don’t even know if he feels that way towards me, you know? i–” you pout, looking around before back into the cerulean orb. “i just don’t know.” your voice is quiet now.

satoru gently takes your wrist, thumb brushing over the scars with a soft smile.

“i can tell you that it’s possible for something like this to happen.”

“something like what is going to happen?”

the little squeal falling from your lips has gojo’s head falling back in a loud laugh as he drops your arm. nanami quirks an eyebrow, watching the scene in front of him.

his heart sinks to his stomach, but he can’t figure out why. he knows gojo doesn’t feel that way towards you, but what if you feel that way towards him?

the taller man walks towards the blonde, hand squeezing nanami’s shoulder before leaning forward and whispering something into his ear; something that had nanami’s eyes widening and his cheeks tinting pink. “i think she's ready to learn from you, sensei.”

nanami holds out his hand for you once you’re out of sight from the lurking students, and satoru.

taking it happily, your stomach flips and churns with the newly acquired flusterings gojo loves to stir up.

“so, what were you talking about?” you bite back a little frustrated whine.

“nothing. it was nothing–” you say it quickly, shaking your head.

“hm, didn’t seem like nothing.”

“it was. nothing. nada. nothing at all.” you keep your head down and the little hum of acknowledgement lets you know that he’s dropping the subject. you both walk down the hall in silence for a few minutes, listening to the loud shouts of teenagers being allowed out for the weekend.

“kento?” you hum, swinging your hands together as you get closer to the restaurant nanami has reservations for.

“hm?” his pace slows down, a small smile presses against his lips as he watches your hands in the air.

“my coworker texted me earlier and invited me to her party tomorrow night—”

oh no.

“and i was wondering if you’d like to come with me?”

wait, what?

his eyebrows furrow as he looks at you. you must have caught it because you pout and give his hand a squeeze. “well, because, i don’t know anyone. i don’t- i don’t really have any friends, except for you, gojo, and yuji, and she said i could bring anyone if it would make me more comfortable, because I guess she really wants me to be there, and I guess she also realized I don’t–I guess everyone’s noticed, an–”

“we’ll come. i’ll bring gojo and yuji as well.”

there’s no way in hell you’re going to this party by yourself. not where there’s people who can take advantage of you — not where he can’t physically take care of you.

“i’ll have satoru ask if fushiguro and kugisaki will come as well.”

“i’d like that. i can’t wait to meet them.” you bounce happily as you stand in front of the restaurant. the white haired man always speaks about his students, he loves them, but because kento worked so closely with yuji, he was the only one you have met so far.

you glance up at kento, confused as to why he isn’t walking inside. he said the reservation is at 7, right?

“have you ever been to a party?” he asks suddenly, eyes still on the door of the bustling restaurant.

“n-no. i haven’t really even tried alcohol before.” nanami peers down at you.

he’s known you since you were legally allowed to drink, but he’s never seen you consume it. he just assumed you’d tried it at least once in celebration.

“why?”

“i just never found it appealing.”

“then why do you want to go to this party?”

you pout again, pulling him to the side so other patrons can enter. the flush of your cheeks and the way you curl into yourself is the only answer he needs. he can feel the same envious emotion creep up his spine; the way it did when he saw his senior holding your hand.

because she likes someone who’s going to be there.

i mean, she has every right to. she doesn’t belong to me. i can’t stop her from having crushes on people, especially when i’ve made it clear in the beginning that this was strictly monetary.

…

but why can’t it be me?

foolish, foolish man.

giving your hand a small squeeze, kento walks you further down the sidewalk.

“where are we going?”

“i’m taking you to your first bar.” he smiles down at you, a smile you rarely get to see.

“but… the reservation.”

“it’s okay. i can switch it for another night.”

“na— kento.” you appreciate it, but you want to say no. tell him we can go back.

that is until he turns back with a soft look in his eyes that only makes you melt. a look that’s only been reserved for you.

“okay. if you’re sure.”

hopefully you’re able to stay lucid enough to keep quiet about the crush you have on him.

— ♡

you feel utterly ridiculous when you walk into the bar with nanami right behind you. you tug your skirt further down your legs to avoid any unwanted glances and wait for the man to step in front of you so you can use his body as a shield like you usually do.

too many people.

too many pairs of eyes on you in such an enclosed space. you sit on a stool beside kento, who in turn, tugs the stool closer to him.

while he’s looking over the menu, you take a moment to admire him; the blonde tufts of hair, the beige suit that clings to his body, the way his body leans into your space.

you appreciate everything he does for you — taking you to the hospital when you ran away from home, sending you money for transportation when he’s not able to pick you up, paying the hospital bills, purchasing an apartment for you, the list goes on and on. he’s always made sure you were comfortable and safe.

the aura that radiates off of him is immediate and calm, and you have no other choice than to fall in love with the older man.

one of his hands rests on top of yours on the bartop while the other holds your knee. his eyes are focused on you.

a room filled with a plethora of gorgeous women and he’s only looking at me.

“please try it.” he slides the glass towards you and you can’t help but pout when his hand lets go of yours.

“what is it?”

“it’s called a yuzushu.” you tilt your head to the side; a trait that reminds him of a puppy. “it’s sake, sugar, and some citrus. i think you’ll like it.”

taking a sip, the lemon causes your nose to scrunch up but it’s otherwise enjoyable.

“better than i thought it’d be,” you admit.

four and a half glasses in, and nanami is regretting ever suggesting this in the first place. he should have known you’d be a lightweight. you press your face into his bicep, a smile across your lips.

“nami~” you hiccup, eyes glossy. “one more please.~” kento can only shake his head, gulping discreetly at the way your chest is pressed into his side completely. “pl-hic-ease.” batting your eyelashes, you try your best to convince the man to buy you one more drink, but he just pays the bill and stands up. “where-hic- we going?”

“home.”

“my home, or- or your home?” you giggle, eyebrows wiggling suggestively as he walks you out of the bar, arm around your shoulders.

“my home, but your suggestive little tone isn’t going to work on me,” he whispers in your ear before straightening his back and taking in the sight of your flushed cheeks and pursed lips.

“c-can you drive? you drank a lot too.”

“i’m fine,” love. “i’m fine.” you let him sit you in the car and adjust your seatbelt. he slips into the driver’s side, carefully driving you back to his apartment.

getting you up the stairs without carrying you proves to be much harder than expected. if you weren’t wearing a skirt, he’d have you on his back in a second, but there’s the risk of someone seeing your panties and he’s in too much of a possessive mindset to have that happen right now.

your legs wobble.

if he picks you up bridal style, he has a little more leeway but the same thing could happen.

in a swift movement, he slings his jacket around your waist and lifts you onto his back, trudging up the stairs into the apartment. he doesn’t bother taking off your shoes, nor his, shuffling into the bathroom and sitting you on the counter. he stands between your thighs, using the makeup remover wipes he keeps in the cabinet to take off your makeup and your extra toothbrush to clean the taste of alcohol, and vomit from your mouth.

he’ll have to get his car detailed.

he changes you into one of his shirts, and boxers, your bright eyes never leaving his face.

“yo-you’re so hamsome,” you whisper, your hands pressed against his chest before you plop in a seated position on the cushioned mattress. “gotsucha nice smile. when you do smile. ‘s pretty.”

“thank you.”

“i wuddn’ mind if you were ma first—” your hands travel down his chest, stopping just above his waistband, eyes wide and doe-like, peering up at him through your lashes.

“first?” his eyebrow quirk towards his hairline. “first what?”

“sssssexual partner.” you giggle, eyes appearing as crescents and back hitting the comforter. nanami feels his body go rigid, eyes widening. “woah.”

“you’re… a virgin?” he can hear his heart beating in his ears.

or was that his blood rushing from his face.

you pout, “is that a bad thing?”

“no. no, it’s not a bad thing.”

“s not that i never wanted to— jus’ never got the chance, ‘n ‘s not like i never touched myself before.” your cheeks turn a crimson red as you look away from him before getting an idea. “maybe you could teach me! satoruuuuu said dat if you felt dat way twards me, i should ask.”

if kento thought his heartbeat was erratic before, he’s sure as hell positive it’s about to burst from his ribcage.

no. it shouldn’t even be an option. there’s no way.

but look at how she’s looking at me. her eyes are so big, and innocent.

NO.

but satoru said.

you wait patiently for an answer, your eyes glossed over as you watch the way his facial expression changes.

“please,” you whisper now.

“if you can remember this conversation in the morning.” the blonde is barely able to choke out. he clears his throat and tugs on his tie, pulling it off.

satisfied with his answer, you situate yourself on the bed, face in the pillow.

“g’night, k’nny.”

he smiles, stepping to the door after grabbing his change of clothes. he quietly shuts the door, leaving just a crack open. his heart melts at the sound of your light snores and the sight of you sleeping.

“goodnight, my dear.”

— ♡

FUCK, my head.

whining, you roll over and burrow yourself into the blankets more, the mixed scent of kento’s shampoo and cologne filling your nostrils and bringing back a nearly forgotten conversation.

“you’re… a virgin?” you pout, “is that a bad thing?” “no. no, it’s not a bad thing.” “s not that i never wanted to— jus’ never got the chance, ‘n ‘s not like i never touched myself before. maybe you could teach me!”

“oh my god!”

“what did he do?” kento’s standing in the doorway, arms folded across his visibly bare chest, shirt and tie hanging from his broad shoulders, and toothbrush in hand.

your cheeks are burning in the most beautiful way; the way kento loves to make them, and he can’t help the sly smirk from growing on his lips.

you had seen him shirtless dozens of times, but couple that with remembering your drunken behavior and him now realizing what you’re remembering with his stupidly attractive body out in the open. it’s a disaster waiting to happen, so you hide under the blankets.

“button up your shirt.”

“you’ve seen me like this before—”

“that’s different!”

“what’s different about this time?” you hear him cross the room, feel the bed dip in his weight as his fingers reach to curl around the blanket’s edge. “where’s the confident girl from last night?

“she doesn’t live here anymore. i’m not responsible for her actions. i don’t know her.”

all you hear is a deep chuckle before his fingertips disappear. he’s quiet a moment before, “my shirt is buttoned.”

“i think i’ll still be under here, thank you.”

“but what if i want to look at you?”

“you have pictures.” you’re distracted by the conversation and loosen your grip on the blanket. kento takes the opportunity to tug it back quickly, making you squeal and cover your face with your hands.

“is seeing my face such a bad thing?”

“after what i said last night, yes it is.”

“i thought you weren’t responsible for her.”

“h-hey— i mean, y-yeah, you’re right.”

his touch is soft. fingers wrapping around your wrists, removing your hands from your face.

“there she is.” he smiles softly. “what you said last night wasn’t that bad.”

“wasn’t that bad? i propositioned for you to-to-to-”

“take your virginity.” like it was nothing abnormal. as if you were talking about what you had for dinner. he says it so matter of factly.

“don’t say it out loud.” you groan, scrunching your nose up.

“are you saying you don’t want that now that you’re sober?”

you pout. no, that’s not what you’re saying, but it’s still embarrassing to hear it aloud.

you were so worried about spilling your crush on him that you didn’t even think to keep the secret of being a virgin to yourself.

“i’m so embarrassed-”

“it’s not embarrassing to ask for something like that.”

“no?” he shakes his head.

“i would prefer it be me than someone you barely know.” and no one else at all, but now’s not the time nor place.

“I would prefer it to be only you…” you whisper, gripping the comforter between your fingers.

his lips tug at the corners, a smile threatening to spread across his cheeks. “we can talk about that after you’ve had breakfast, okay?” he can’t think about that now. he thought about it all morning while you were asleep and he’s already taken three showers.

you agree to breakfast, climbing off the bed and moving to stand in front of him as he stands as well. your head’s still tilted downwards, but before he can reach to lift it, your arms slip around his middle and you hug him to your body.

it’s been far too long since he’s had one of your hugs.

“thank you, nami.” you whisper and feel his own arms tighten around your back, fingers brushing through the ends of your hair. you give him a big squeeze before letting go.

“i’ll make us some pancakes.” scampering off to the kitchen, you leave a flustered kento to finish brushing his teeth and attend to his… needs.

when he finally walks into the kitchen, you’re whistling softly, pancake batter on the griddle and a plate of the finished ones to the side. he leans against the countertop, arms crossed as he watches you finish the last two pancakes.

“all done.” you hum, smiling brightly at him.

his fingers twitch to grip your hip and pull you closer.

but he doesn’t.

for a second, he’s unsure of how to act around you.

does he kiss you?

should he pull you close?

should he act like you’re dating?

do you want him to?

“nami?”

“hm?”

you’re standing closer to him now; so close, you can hear the hitch in his breath.

“should we go on a date tonight?”

“a date?”

“yeah.” you’re fiddling with the hem of the shirt he dressed you in last night. it falls just below mid-thigh. “i mean– shouldn’t we do that—?”

“i think you’re jumping ahead, love. we’re supposed to be talking about it over breakfast.” he leans close, his arm snaking around your waist. you can feel your breath catch in your throat, his hand splaying across the small of your back while the other reaches to grab the finished plate of pancakes. his palm purposefully drags along your waist before slipping away and he turns to leave, walking towards the table while you involuntarily let out a whine. the pitter patter of your feet behind him makes him laugh.

once you’re finally situated at the table, awkward glances and clearing of throats out of the way, kento’s able to relax.

“i thought we had a party to go to tonight?”

“oh.” you sound disappointed. “yeah, i forgot.” you’re picking at the pancakes as you mutter. “i just want it to be us tonight, and not worry about sweaty bodies around us… or trying to get on top of you.”

he lets out an amused hum, having heard you but choosing to let it slide. his hand slides onto your thigh once he’s set his fork down.

“how about we spend the day together?”

“like we usually do?”

“well… yeah, but it’s different this time.” you tilt your head to the side curiously. “you’re my,” he can’t say girlfriend yet. you’re not. partner sounds too formal.

“girl.” your cheeks are painted pink once more. “i’m your girl.”

“my girl.”

— ♡

nothing changed, really. kento still pays for everything, still holds your hand, and still calls you princess, but there’s something different about everything. the emotions, the tone of voice, the actions hold so much more than before — and you’re starting to wonder how much he was holding back prior to last night.

kento smiles brighter when he looks down at you, clad in one of the few hoodies he owns. it falls mid-thigh, the sleeves cover your hands — “they’re sweater paws” you said earlier — and the hood covers just above your eye level. you look cozy.

“you’re the only woman i know who would complain about how cold it is before walking into an ice cream shop.”

“ice cream is an all year treat and the winter is just impatiently creeping up on us, kento.”

“i’m sure, love.”

love. your stomach flips every time he says it.

princess has always been his go-to. you don’t know why. he let it slip once and you’ve just never brought it to his attention. eventually, he just started saying it more confidently.

you’ve come from such a broken home that you never even knew pet names were a thing until you met nanami.

you’d grown up in fear of men — younger, older, it didn’t matter. you spent a large portion of your high school years attempting to get over it, attempting to date, but when your mother found out, she’d hit you so hard in the ribs that you ended up just throwing yourself into your studies and you nearly stopped interacting with anyone and everyone who didn’t live in your household.

when you met kento though, you couldn’t stop your heart from racing as you pushed past him. you barely remembered anything about him, but his eyes. he looked so… tired. but he had such kind eyes — the kindest you had ever seen, despite the dark circles underneath them. the more you came in contact with him after that day, the more you’d notice his eyes softening, and when he found you on the road that night, you remember sobbing when he took you to the medical building his friend worked at. you sobbed and blubbered about how he was the nicest man you had ever met, and the woman just let you until you felt better; until you felt okay enough to stand up and walk out of the room.

you had never met such nice people before.

“i was able to switch those reservations, love.”

“oh! for when?”

“tonight.” he gives your hand a squeeze. “let’s go on a date tonight.”

“a date,” you whisper, butterflies swirling around in your stomach.

— ♡

nanami kento is the definition of a perfect gentleman. between the respect he treats others with, the empathy he holds in his heart for those around him, and the manners his mother raised him with, it would - understandably - make any woman fall for him.

he pulled your chair out when you got to the table, poured you wine, and even fed you some of the food off his own plate. he paid for everything, despite your protests, and even bought you cupcakes from your favorite bakery that’s always open late.

honestly, how can this date get any better?

well, it can, and it’s about to.

his fingers slip between yours as you walk through the park, the fairy lights decorating the park and the lake beside it. the moon tangoes with them, adding to the shimmering lights.

“thank you for tonight, kento.”

nanami smiles, stopping on the bridge and pulling you closer to his chest. it’s a beautifully crisp night out, you’re dressed in a tight dress, your natural waves framing your face and his blazer slung over your shoulders.

he reaches up, careful as he always is with you, and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

you’ve never flinched in his presence and he’s grateful for it.

“have i told you how beautiful you look?” your cheeks flush, your eyes glance down at your bodies pressed together.

“y-yes, but you can never say it too much.”

kento’s large hand cups your jaw as he dips his head down, brushing your noses together.

“you’re so beautiful,” he breathes, thumbing over your cheekbone.

“kento—” his breath fans over your lips.

“hm?”

his eyes flit down to your lips before jumping back to your eyes, smiling when he realizes they’re already closed. he watches through his own heavy lids as you lean forward, pursing your lips before he closes the distance. he smiles as you let a squeak slip, your palm pressing to his hardened chest. the kiss is soft, light, both of you just enjoying the other.

kento’s lips are as soft as you’d imagined them; and yours are even sweeter than he thought. your head tilts to the side, tongue swiping across his bottom lip. he parts them, letting your tongue pass as his own tangles with it. your small fingers grip the hairs at the nape of his neck as he pulls away, chasing after his lips with a quiet whine.

“what was that?” his words are breathless.

“take me home,” you whisper, eyes trained on his own. “please.”

— ♡ — cw: nsfw

as soon as you hear the click behind you, you have nanami’s back pinned against the heavy wooden door, barely giving him time to lock it. your palms press firmly against his muscular chest, his breath fanning over your lips.

“k-kento,” you whisper, dainty fingers fumbling to tug off his tie and unbutton his shirt.

there’s an urgency in your movements; a feverish need to get him out of every article of clothing he has on. you don’t care where the clothes land; in his bedroom, in the living room, it doesn’t matter. your nails scrape along his bare chest, a low growl rumbling in his throat as he breathes out your name. his glasses are thrown somewhere in the couch direction.

his dark eyes scan your features, clouded with lust and longing dripping from every word. “kiss me, princess.”

your hand pulls his head down, molding your lips together fervently. his hands are gripping your hips, walking you backwards. kento shrugs the jacket draped over your shoulders off and onto the tiled kitchen floor as he backs you into the wall. his broad body cages you in, strong arms pressed on either side of your head as his tongue glides across your lips before being allowed to explore every crevice with a need to memorize your very taste.

his calloused hands push your hips back against the wall, his lungs burning for oxygen he doesn’t think he needs right now, but he reluctantly pulls away. his large fingers drag the zipper of your dress down your spine, hooking his fingers around the straps and sliding it down your body, letting it pool at your ankles.

you’d be shying right about now if your head weren’t spinning. kento’s hungry eyes trail over your small frame, breath catching as he catches sight of the lingerie set he had bought you months ago. the lace hugs your curves perfectly.

you look up at him with those pretty doe eyes he loves so much before you start chewing on your swollen lower lip. you’re starting to feel self conscious the longer he takes to look at you, but as you start to cover yourself up, kento clears his throat and gently pins your hands to the wall.

“it looks beautiful on you,” he whispers, letting go of your wrist to trace over the blue mesh bralette. he cups your breast, thumbing over your nipple. “you are so beautiful.” his lips attach to your shoulder, your head tilting back to make room for him. your fingers tangle into his blonde locks. your free hand dances along his torso, nimble fingers gripping his belt.

kento groans, his slacks becoming all too tight the moment your fingers move to unbuckle his belt. he scoops you up, grip too tight on your thighs as he takes long strides towards the bedroom, sucking large and heavy marks into your neck and shoulders.

he’s allowed to be selfish now, right? you’re his now, right?

nanami isn’t a possessive man. he never was. he’s never been; not with his partners before, but every time he looks at you, he just wants to mark every inch of you; make it known that you belong to him and only him, and now he’s allowed to.

you’re allowing him to touch you, to mark you, to kiss you. you’re allowing him to claim you as his and his alone.

dropping you onto his bed, kento tugs off his belt, unbuttoning his slacks and letting them fall to his ankles.

he’s crawling to hover over you, his smile so loving that it takes your breath away.

you’re distracted by his hair falling in every direction from your fingers running through it, the crease in his eyebrows as he drinks in the very sight of you, the loving look he has when your eyes finally meet again.

he cups your jaw, allowing you to lean into his touch.

“i d-don’t know what to do..”

the blonde kisses your forehead. “don’t worry. i’ll help you every step of the way.” his fingers dance around your back, unhooking your bra.

god, how much more beautiful can you be?

kento’s lips trail down the slope of your shoulder, laying you down as his hand kneads at your breast.

small mewls spill from your lips already, only egging him to go further. he sucks on a patch of skin underneath your ear, small gasps and the arching of your back allows his forefinger and thumb to pinch at your nipple while his free hand holds your hip in place.

“does it feel good, baby?”

“yes,” you murmur, breathlessly.

“tell me where you like to touch yourself,” he’s whispering into your ear before wrapping his lips around your neglected bud, teeth grazing it.

you try not to think about how, and why, nanami is so good at this — at finding all the right spots, all the places you like to be touched; how you like to be touched.

nanami’s thinking about how he could just cum from the sounds spilling from your lips. you sound so pretty, so whiny, so needy. needy for him.

it’s so much better than he’s imagined.

your fingers hook around his wrist, leading his hand between your legs.

he doesn’t push you to say anything more. he knows you’re nervous, shy.

his fingertip traces the skin of your inner thighs, tracing the lace of your panties before he tears the gusset, assuring you he’ll just have to buy you another. his fingers find your clit, rolling it as he pulls his lips back and blows cold air against your chest.

“na-nami-” you whine, squeezing your breasts together as you peer down at him. “don’t tease me, please.”

he smirks, watching your facial expression mold into pure bliss when he presses his middle finger between your pussy lips. you push your hips down, trying to gain any kind of friction, the wetness soaking his digits.

“so impatient, princess.”

you pout at him, eyes glossy from the sheer satisfaction you’re gaining from his fingers. you squirm when his finger glides into your tight pussy, plush walls sucking him in as he drags the calloused digit in and out at a torturously slow pace.

“k-ken!” your nails drag down his chest as he curls his finger. your back arches, his palm moving against your clit.

“sound so pretty for me,” he whispers against your neck, inserting another finger and working their way in and out of your walls.

“f-faster, please. g-gonna cum–”

“already? i’ve barely started.”

“please.” he grants your breathless pleas, watching your chest rise and fall quickly as you come undone beneath him.

your vision goes white as his fingers slow to help you come down. his forehead presses against yours, breathing in the very air leaving your lungs. his fingers sticky with your cum as he brings them between his lips, licking them clean as you whine and writhe impatiently beneath him.

“do you want to keep going, princess?” you nod and he’s quick to look at you. “say it.”

“yes.” your cheeks are flushed already. “please.”

nanami sits up on his knees between your legs, reaching over and tugging open the bedside table drawer, pulling out a condom.

he rids himself of his briefs before ripping open the golden wrapper. you’re trying not to stare but it’s hard to look away when it’s so big. you watch as his fingers roll the condom onto the mushroom head before finding it’s way along the shaft.

he’s long, girthy, and you’re suddenly terrified it’s going to hurt.

your arms stretch out, spreading your legs wider. he sits himself between your thighs once more, hovering over you. his tip presses against your entrance, lips molded to your forehead as he pushes himself inside your dripping heat.

you’re so much tighter than he anticipates though, and you’re already squeezing around him.

“relax for me,” he whispers.

“‘m trying. s’too big.” curses mix with pained whimpers as you squeeze your eyes shut. his fingers grip your jaw firmly, kissing your lips to distract you as he pushes himself in fully. your nails find his back, dragging red lines along the flesh.

“doing okay?” his lips are barely broken from yours as he asks.

you sniffle. “why‘re you so big?” you’re not used to being stretched this much, nor were you expecting it. even with his fingers, you’re not prepared. his chuckle turns into a throaty groan from you clenching around him, almost trying to push him out.

tears grow in your eyes as you scrunch your nose up. “out, out. take it out. it hurts.” but despite your pleas, your heels dig into his lower back, holding him in place.

“baby, i can’t take it out when you’re squeezing me so tightly.” he tries to suppress his chuckle. he feels bad because he knew it would hurt you, but seeing the tears in your eyes is making his head spin. he wants to make you feel so good, they spill down your cheeks.

“okay, okay,” you breathe, looking up at him completely now. “don’t take it out. i think — i think you can move now.”

“just keep trying to relax for me,” he whispers. your head falls back, nodding as you close your eyes and will yourself to calm down.

you have to relax. this is what you wanted. it won’t hurt once he moves. he won’t let it.

he feels your legs loosen around his waist, the shaky breath leaving your lips as he’s finally able to bottom out.

“you’re so—fucking tight.” he grits his teeth, keeping himself steady while you busy your lips on his collarbone. your heels push against his back once more, silently asking him to move now. his thrusts are slow to start off with, the moans leaving your lips are more of pleasure than pain. it’s much better now.

your nails drag down his back, surely breaking the skin as he picks up the pace when you start to clamp down around his cock. your walls spasm around him and he reaches between your bodies to press his palm against your lower abdomen.

“wa-wait—” you gasp, arching your back and rolling your eyes. he smirks as you gush around him, the pressure feeling all too good as his tip kisses your cervix.

“fee—ling,” he groans from the squelching sounds filling the room, “better now— princess?” he’s gritting his teeth. he can feel the knot growing in his stomach.

you’re nodding, begging for him to go faster, but, “if i go any faster- i’m going to cum.” he lets out a breath as your fingers tangle into his blonde locks, tugging at them and smiling at the moan falling from his lips.

his hips move a particular angle as his hand moves from your abdomen to the back of your thigh, stretching you open. tears spill down your cheeks and his hips sputter.

you look so pretty, so perfect in this moment and the knot snaps in his stomach suddenly. his hips thrust shallowly as he fills the condom with his cum, but that doesn’t stop him from moving; deeper, slower. and it doesn’t keep him from admiring the way your cheeks are flushed and your hair is splayed out in every direction on his pillow. sweat is dripping down your forehead, chest heaving with every pant, moan and whine he’s pulling from your lips.

his hips move with purpose, eliciting another orgasm from you before he stops. he could go all night if you’d allow it, but you’re smiling up at him tiredly, cheeks tear stained and body covered in hickies.

you pull him down for a kiss, kento melting into you as his lips find their place with yours.

he’s careful when he pulls out, taking in the quiet whine from your lips with a kiss. he grabs some tissues, helping clean you before lying on his back and tugging you onto his chest. your smaller frame drapes itself across his chest, his fingers smoothing out across your spine. his head flops onto the pillow, arm coming up to lay across his eyes, breathing roughly.

you lay in silence for a few moments, neither of you wanting to break the fragile bubble you put yourselves in, but your mind isn’t too kind with allowing you to stay quiet for long.

“is it weird?” you ask, head pressed to his bare chest and index finger tracing the crease of his collarbone.

“is what weird?”

“taking the virginity of someone you’re not dating?”

his fingers tangle into your hair. “is it weird for you?”

“i asked you first.”

he smiles as you look up at him, your chin making contact with his chest before meeting his eyes. you know he’s waiting for you to answer first, and you can’t help but huff playfully.

“only weird because we’re not dating… but it feels like we’ve been dating for years now, you know?”

“i guess i’ve had feelings for you for so long that it doesn’t feel strange to me.”

“for how long?”

he should’ve seen this question coming. he looks away from you, frowning slightly.

“since i’ve met you,” he whispers.

“why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“how do i tell you i have feelings for you when i made such a big deal about this being solely for your financial benefit?”

“with words.” your eyes trail over his face, a content sigh leaving your lips. “i’ve loved you for years.”

“years?”

“well i knew i liked you the second you took me out for ice cream in the middle of november—”

“i just wanted to see you smile.”

“and the moment i knew i loved you was when you came over to celebrate my raise at the cafe.”

he chuckles, kissing your forehead softly. “i love seeing you smile. i don’t think you understand. you’re beautiful and your eyes turn into little crescents, the dimples that invade your cheeks. i just,” he breathes softly, “i just love you, and want you to have the best life you can possibly have.”

“that’s why i have you, kento,” you whisper slowly.

“you truly believe that?”

after being met with silence, kento’s tilts his head to the side. you’ve nestled yourself against his chest, breath evening out.

“goodnight, sweetheart.”

waking up beside the love of your life is truly the most amazing feeling.

but waking up to the love of your life sucking you off? even better.

kento groans as he stirs awake, feeling nails rake down his thighs. his fingers reach out, tangling into your hair as he moans out your name. you hum happily around his cock, the tip hitting the back of your throat as you swallow.

the string of curses couples with his rough morning voice, making you whine and press your thighs together. he pulls the comforter back, your eyes glancing up at his face. a lazy smile tugs at nanami’s cheeks as his fingers hold your head down. he bucks up into the heat of your mouth, your eyes rolling back.

he could get used to that look on your face.

his eyes are heavy, moaning every time your head dips down and your nose hits his pubic bone. your tongue glides along the base of his cock, eyes watery as you look up at him almost innocently.

“darling, if you look at me like that–” his head falls back against his pillow. “shit, i’m gonna cum.” his hips thrust up once more as he tugs your head off his cock before shooting out ropes of white across your mouth and cheeks, some landing on his stomach as well.

licking your lips, you blush darkly, leaning into his touch to avoid his gaze. “so-sorry, i just… saw somewhere that some guys like to be woken up like that ‘nd i wanted to try it–”

he can’t help himself, chuckling quietly at your shy demeanor still covered in his cum. he grabs a tissue off the nightstand, wiping down the rest of your face and his stomach.

“it’s okay. it felt good. you felt good.” you beam up at your love, rubbing your cheek against his palm when he moves to cup your face.

“i did good?”

“you did so good for me,” he speaks quietly, gently pulling you to straddle his hips as he sits up. his arms wrap around your waist, kissing your forehead. “and you took me so well last night.” you squeal quietly, hiding your face in his neck. playfully, he pats the round of your ass. “are you sore?”

“a little.”

“i’ll run us a bath then.”

you curl into his chest as he stands and makes his way into the bathroom. setting you on the counter, you turn to look in the mirror and are met with dozens, if not more, dark bites and hickeys littering your neck, collarbone and chest. you peer down at your legs, seeing the same marks on them and your stomach.

“i got a little carried away.” you glance at nanami in the mirror, he’s awkwardly scratching his neck, trying not to stare at the marks he left.

“i like them.” the man’s cheeks darken and he leans down and kisses your temple.

“good. because i won’t stop leaving them.”

your fingers brush through the growing undercut, smiling softly.

“do you still have bath bombs?”

“i do.” he reaches over into a cabinet beside your head and pulls out the crate you had left behind. you hand him your favorite one and watch as he drops it in, the water changing to galaxy and the scent of lavender filling the air.

when he’s finally satisfied with the temperature, he lifts you off the counter before sitting in the tub with your back to his chest, between his legs.

bathing with someone had always been so intimate to kento. and him being the first for you makes this particular bath all the more special for the both of you.

nanami had never felt the urge to do something like this with any other partner — only ever suggested showers. he never thought he’d ever want to get this intimate, but with you, it just came so naturally, so easily; shampooing your hair, washing over your body, kissing every inch of newly cleaned skin with the desire to dirty it once more. to brush through the knots in your hair once it’s dried and to dress you in comfortable clothes for the upcoming day or for bed. intimacy like this was never something he thought he needed.

but there are things kento can admit to being wrong about.

this type of love - this gentle, sweet belonging fills a hole he had tried to bury so long ago. it fills the space he had originally poured concrete into and tried to plant grass.

but only weeds grew between the cracks over the years. and nothing was helping them die.

useless weeds that he didn’t know how to get rid of.

it wasn’t until kento held your hand for the first time that he realized you had been replacing the concrete with dirt. flowers bloomed instead of weeds and he realized the water he had been using just eroded him.

you came in, changed his whole life around, added the extra ingredients. you added life to his flowers. you filled his home, his heart, his life with such variety that now he fears how to breathe without it.

because you’re the color in his black and white world.

how can he live without you?

“MR. 7:3 sorcerer! it’s nice to see you again,” mahito grins from behind nanami’s back. he tries to ignore it, tries to avoid any confrontation — tries to avoid anything that draws attention to what he really did for work.

“kento,” you whisper, tugging at his sleeve. “what’s a sorcerer?” you don’t mean to eavesdrop on the conversation, but it sounds intriguing. “is it those movies you showed me the other day? witches or something?”

“oh, is this the reason you don’t enjoy overtime?” the curse jumps in front of the couple. “you have a girlfriend?” he squeals. your eyes widen, glancing up at nanami as you tighten your grip on his arm.

“i thought… you were a teacher.”

“oh, she doesn’t know what you do for real?” mahito gets close; too close. his face is mere centimeters from yours. “he kills people like me for a living, dear. with that blade of his that he keeps tucked behind his back.” he raises a stitched arm, pressing his palm to your stomach. “what do you think comes first; the body or the soul?”

“i don’t— i’m not—” nanami turns to move, but the hand on his stomach stops him.

“it’s the soul. the body forms around the soul. wanna see what i can do with your soul?” a sharp pain shoots through your body, searing and hot. you’re doubling over, clutching your ribs when you hear a familiar voice.

“nanamin!” yuji waves his hand excitedly until he catches sight of the pale curse covered in stitches.

“itadori yuji!” he shouts, unaware that nanami had shoved his hand behind his back and up his jacket, tugging the blade out. mahito cackles, throwing a small deformed toy into the air before disappearing. the transfigured human stretches in size, leaning forward to grab at you but yuji’s faster, lifting you in the air. the human pleads to be set free, to be killed. it begs nanami over and over again.

and then it’s over, and you’re stifling sobs, eyes blown wide as blood splatters across your cheeks. the creature lays in pieces on the ground. yuji’s arms tighten around your smaller frame, your palm pressing against your mouth to muffle the sound.

“wh-wh-wh-wh-at was that?” nanami and gojo spin around, the blood still dripping from his covered blunt instrument. you look up at yuji, sniffling to get his attention. “yu-yuji.”

“i’m sorry you had to see that,” he whispers, eyes soft and pink hair falling over his eyebrows.

“what was it?” you’re firm this time, pulling away from the high school student. nanami steps closer to you, but he freezes when you take a step back. “th-th-that was a person. a person!”

“it was no longer human.”

“it cried! it spoke, and it cried, and you-you-”

“i had to. if i didn’t, it could have hurt you.” kento’s chest tightens when your back hits a wall. you’re trying so hard to get away from the three of them; to get away from him.

he speaks your name quietly. “please.”

you shake your head, spinning around to take the last few steps away but yuji gentle grasps your shoulder to stop you. “don’t leave. please talk to us.” but you tug your arm from his grip, sniffling.

“i want to go home.” you stalk off towards your own apartment, stomach churning as you replay all of the night's events.

nanami’s harnessing his blade, the back of his head resting against the brick building.

“it’ll be okay, nanamin. she just needs time.”

“i didn’t want her to find out about this… i wasn’t even 100% sure she could see them.”

gojo clears his throat just then, pushing off the wall. “she’s been near death more than three times, nanami. it was only a matter of time.”

“three times?!” yuji shouts before he looks around and steps closer to his senseis. “she’s been nearly dead three times?”

“more than three times!” gojo corrects enthusiastically with four fingers in the air. kento just sighs, standing up straight.

“her parents were at fault for the first three times, and a car accident was for the last time. it’s why she doesn’t like to drive.”

“her parents? how?” yuji watches his teacher incredulously, frowning and crossing his arms.

the blonde sighs once more before opening his mouth, “that’s not my story to tell.”

— ♡

you sniffle, a bloodied towel tossed onto the floor. nanami stands in the doorway, leaning on the frame as he watches you stitch the cut on your hip.

“what did he do to me?”

“it’s called transfiguration. he manipulates the body’s soul, changing it’s shape, and—”

“turning me into that thing you killed.”

“yeah,” he breathes. he stands straighter as you turn around. your stitching has gotten better from the looks of it.

“why didn’t it work on me?”

“this isn’t the first time i’ve seen his technique up close. i used as much of my energy as i could to protect your soul, but it could only do so much. i’m not sure why the cut isn’t worse.”

“he’s done this to you before?” you step forward, clean hand pressing to his abdomen, right where his scar sits. “this was him?”

“that was him.”

you grip the blue fabric that keeps your safety net, your safety blanket; your person covered. the color grounds you, the scent radiating off of it was that of flowers and baked goods. blue, beige, and the scent of bread — nanami kento was more than just a man who saved your life.

nanami kento is your home.

“IS that the last of the boxes?” kento asks as he breaths out a sigh. his back is aching, but there’s still a faint smile on his face.

you nod as you start to unpack the box labeled ‘mug obsessed’ (in kento’s handwriting).

because it was just kento living in his apartment, he only had two of everything. you, on the other hand, could not control yourself when it came to cute anything.

your mug collection will drive him crazy.

but he doesn’t mind if he ends up being the one to wash them.

he unboxes the ‘living room’ box and smiles at the framed photos he had taken from your wall to add to his.

“oh, don’t forget this one!” you stride into the living room, holding a frame you had kept in your bedroom. he recognizes the frame almost immediately. it’s the one that always sat on your bedside table, encompassing the photo of the two of you smiling, a beautiful bouquet in your arms — gifted by gojo which nanami was surprisingly happy about. a dinner party you hosted at nanami’s your now shared home.

“love,” kento starts, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you into his lap. “how about we go to dinner tonight before i have to leave for my next assignment?”

admittedly, as much as kento hated that you knew exactly what his job was now, he’s more than relieved he doesn’t have to lie to you anymore.

it took days for you to forgive him for that night — a lot of flowers, home cooked meals, and constant reassurance, but you never asked him why he did it, you only smiled one morning, three weeks ago, and told him to be safe coming home.

“a date, you say?” you melt into his chest, relaxing after the long trek of boxes.

“a date. a proper one.”

“kenny, we’ve been on many proper dates.”

“just say yes. i still have so much time to make up for.”

— ♡

kento had never been a man who could speak his emotions correctly. he’s just never been able to.

he’s very blunt, yes, very straightforward, but emotionally? he’s a wreck most of the time.

he’s just good at hiding it.

there’s so many words swirling inside his head as he looks at you lying in his arms.

tonight is, by far, one of the best nights of his life; making you smile, making you laugh — he even managed to get a snort or two out from you. he wants to tell you how much he loves you, how much he can’t wait to be finished with this assignment so that he can retire and whisk you away.

before you came into his life, he had a plan that only involved himself. he’d move somewhere comfortable, open a bakery and live out the rest of his life happily alone. but ever since you came - literally - crashing into his life, nanami continuously thinks about how he’ll fit you into this plan.

“tell me what your big plan is?” you whisper, startling him. he thought you’d fallen asleep. you smile when you look at him, taking in the questioning look in his eyes. “your plan for retirement. you had mentioned it earlier.”

“i’m hoping it happens after this assignment, actually.” you snuggle back into your spot, humming softly to let him know you’re still listening. “open a bakery in a quiet place. maybe a suburb. maybe another country.”

“a different country? have you traveled a lot?”

“i have.” his fingers brush through the naturally colored hair that had grown in throughout the year. he remembers telling you he loved it not too long after the roots started showing. he never realized you had taken the comment to heart until he noticed the bleached ends were gone.

“what was your favorite place?”

“malaysia,” he answers without hesitation.

“we should go there, then,” you whisper, settling your ear against his bare chest.

we.

“i mean, if you want. i can only hope not to be left behind—”

“never.”

“then allow me to wiggle my way into them.”

“you’ve already started before you even knew.” he smiles, his fingers gliding along your spine. “you’re okay with them?”you nod, the feeling of his fingers on your bare back leaves goosebumps along your skin. “you don’t have anywhere you want to explore?”

“wherever you are is where i want to be.”

it’s not just a future he can hope for; it’s a future he can look forward to.

‼️MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. YOU’VE BEEN WARNED. some dialogue switches between anime and manga depending on which fit more. ‼️

somewhere in malaysia.

you said to take you there, so he must.

he feels the sand beneath his shoes, crunching as you’re taking pictures and videos of him and the water and the sky all while laughing and smiling. he’s smiling. it makes his face hurt.

it’s hot here.

suddenly, he’s walking too slow. his body feels heavy, feet sluggishly stepping down the hall.

he wants to go home.

half of his body hurts from being set on fire. he’s lost an eye.

he’s not sure where his shirt has gone.

you loved that particular shade of blue. he’ll have to buy another to make up for it. surely you’ll forgive him for that. you’ll run into his arms and he’ll tell you he loves you. he’ll retire.

there’s a figure in the photobooth he passes. probably a frightened patron so he pays them no mind.

the stairs are so long.

he’s staring ahead at the beach before he takes the last step off the stairs, his lone eye scanning the room.

so many disfigured humans.

fwoo. “malaysia,” he says, head tilting up to stare at the fluorescent lights. “yeah, malaysia. taking her to kuantan would be nice. i’ll build us a home on a secluded beach. i already have a mountain of books i’ve bought and never touched. go through them page by page… kinda like taking back the time i’ve lost.”

he takes a deep breath.

no, right now he’s heading over to save fushiguro and maki. what about naobito? what happened to those two?

the sun touches the water perfectly. you’re standing in front of him, camera to your eye.

“i’m tired. exhausted even. yeah, i’m exhausted.”

he wants to go home.

i’ve done enough, haven’t i?

the waves crash over his feet, soaking his shoes and socks.

the blade flies through the air, slicing through all the transfigured humans.

he’s kneeling in the water, handkerchief in his hand as he wets it with the seawater. he doesn’t care that his pants are wet.

with every groan, every swing of his blade, he’s closer to seeing you.

he gets hit by a figure, pushed towards the middle of the room.

the wind is rustling his hair and you’re telling him you want to dance with him.

he stabs it, slicing it before being slapped by another and it sends him flying and down onto one of his knees.

the same knee he proposed to you on.

his burnt arm rests on the tile, holding him up as he tries to breathe.

he’s bleeding. out of breath.

he gets hit once more, groaning as he steadies himself.

his eyes closed, water dripping down his face.

it’s his nose that’s bleeding. he cries out, angry now because you’re going to worry when you see him bandaged up.

he’s dancing with you on the sand, in the water.

he wants to go home with every swing of his blade.

it clatters to the ground and he’s rushing to grab it, swiping at a few more before he stops. head falling towards the ground, he’s standing with his eyes closed. defeated.

tap. a hand to his back.

“you’re here?”

“i’ve been here. the whole time.” he hears yuji’s footsteps. “wanna chat for a bit? we’ve got history, after all.”

haibara, what the hell was i even hoping to accomplish in the end? i ran. i ran away, and yet i came back over some vague reason like finding the work worthwhile.

haibara is standing in front of him, but kento knows he’s not there.

this isn’t him. haibara is dead.

but he’s glad to see his old friend.

i can’t. that’s wrong. i can’t, haibara. i can’t say that. it’ll just become a curse upon him.

“nanamin-” yuji’s coming closer, ragged and worn from his own battles. his voice is shaky.

haibara points to his student, and nanami’s eyes widen before his resolve breaks.

i shouldn’t.

he smiles. i sh—

his face falls and his eyebrows furrow before he finally opens his mouth. “itadori.”

kento turns his head to look at yuji once more.

he wants to go home.

but he knows he won’t make it there.

“you’ve got it from here.”

a smile before his upper half bubbles and yuji is left to watch as his lower half falls to the ground.

“wha– what the hell—” his fists clench as he screams, “what the hell are you, mahito?”

mahito’s saying something, but all yuji sees is red.

— ♡

it’s a dream. it has to be.

this is a nightmare.

it feels like you were hit by a train and then run over by the same train, repeatedly.

i can’t breathe. let me breathe.

i can’t breathe. he’s not here.

kento, please.

your mouth is dry, you need some water. he’s always bringing you bottles of water even when you don’t ask for them.

you open your mouth, ready to call out for him.

but you just close your lips.

your eyes are glazed over as you stare, mind running rampant as you wait for him to walk through the heavy front door, and complain about how he needs to change it.

but he never will.

how long has it been? you’ve been curled up on the couch for who knows how long.

weeks?

you glance at the calendar.

it’s only been two days. it feels like years.

yuji takes a step through the hallway. he’s been keeping an eye on you. he has a bottle of water in his hand, sitting down beside you and laying it in your lap carefully.

nanami taught him well.

“i do-don’t wa-want to go.” you sniffle, rubbing your already red and puffy eyes.

yuji hasn’t even taken a look around the apartment, just keeps his eyes on the carpet. too many memories of kento on the walls, in closets; in the air.

nanami is everywhere.

pure, unadulterated heartache of someone who had their whole entire world turned upside down, you’re sobbing, gripping your stomach.

yuji’s fingers card through your hair.

you’re not sure how long it takes for you to calm down this time, but the sun is shining through the opened curtains.

when did they open?

you take a moment, staring at the open curtains. you’re too hopeful that he would have come back in somehow, someway.

you find yourself in the shower, blinking slowly. you don’t recognize the hands washing you, but they’re yours. maybe because kento always washes you in the showers or baths you’ve taken together.

you grab one of his ties, squeezing the fabric in your hands before stepping closer to the pinkette and wrapping it around his neck. it was the only colorful piece of clothing he’ll be wearing.

“thank you..” the crack in his voice is breaking your heart and you can’t bear to look up at him. you just tap his chest before nodding and finding your way to the door.

kento doesn’t have any other family so it’s just you and yuji holding a small ceremony for him. all are welcomed to celebrate him.

the blade is placed in front of the urn. it’s clean, stain free, and still wrapped in the black and white dotted fabric.

“it’s the only thing we could find.” your fingers tremble as you trace over the fabric.

you hope to see gojo, but you know you won’t.

you’re standing in front of his urn, taking the quiet opportunity to speak with him one last time. there’s a photo of him next to the metal casing. gifts upon gifts — some of them useless and insignificant; keychains, trinkets. nanami isn’t wasn’t a materialistic person.

you sniffle as your fingers trace the photos decorated on the table. a photo of him and haibara in high school, gojo and kento standing at the barbecue during their school baseball game, kento and yuji smiling like father and son after he mastered the black flash. in almost every photo was nanami’s signature closed mouth smile, except for one. it’s you and him standing in your living room. you’re laughing at something he said and he’s grinning like an idiot in love.

your fingers trace the intricate designs of the urn.

“nanami kento, i am so mad at you,” you whisper. “how could you just go and leave me? you promised to stay… to protect me…” your hand clamps over your trembling lips. “you didn’t even give me a chance to tell you how much i love you when you asked me to marry you.” you squat down in front of the metal casing.

“but i love you too much to hate you for the rest of my life,” you whisper.

waves crash along the shore line. the smell of the saltwater, the sun beating down on the lonesome beach.

kuantan.

you feel the sand beneath your shoes, crunching as you’re walking along the horizon.

it’s hot here.

you’re staring at the beach, the sun touches the water perfectly. you wish you were standing in front of him, camera to your eye.

the waves crash over your feet, soaking your shoes and socks.

you’re kneeling in the water, handkerchief in hand as you wet it with seawater. you don’t care that your dress is wet.

the wind is rustling through your hair and you wish you could tell him you want to dance with him.

the water splashes against your face, dripping down onto your shoulders.

you can picture him dancing with you on the sand, in the water.

in front of the little hut.