summary: in which nanami is exhausted, but he'll always be yours
warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut with an infusion of angst (?), thigh fucking, face sitting, kind of 69-ing, a little bit of cum eating (?)
a/n: art by @/okaya_t...maybe i am a nanami girlie after all. double posting tonight because i love you freaks <3
Kento Nanami carries his exhaustion like his own personal curse. It makes his bones feel heavy. Makes his shoulders curve forward when no one's looking.
You always know when he gets home because he comes walking through the front door like a runaway dog stumbling back to its owner after being on the streets for a week. The first thing he does is strip out of his jacket and shoes. His tan suit jacket gets hung on a hook in the entryway while his brown shoes get lined up on a mat next to the door. The second thing he does is hunt you down. He walks through the house like he's on a mission, weary footsteps thumping against the wooden floorboards until he finds you.
Everyday, seeing you feels like seeing the sun peek out from behind the clouds of a nasty thunderstorm. He'd run into the streets and dance if not for the heaviness in his limbs.
Instead, his feet always carry him over to you. Most days, he doesn't realize he's hugging you until your hair tickles his cheek.
You're lying in bed when he finds you today. He doesn't bother with any pleasantries. How could any small talk capture the sheer relief he feels at having another day where he's returned to your side?
It can't. The only thing that can is the way he curls up behind you and pulls you back against his chest.
You've learned that trying to strike up conversation in these moments is futile. The only responses you'll pull out of him will end up being soft grunts or hums of acknowledgment. He doesn't usually say anything until dinner.
No, in these moments, he's tactile, needing to feel you. Touching you grounds him. Knowing that you're real, alive, tangible in his arms makes all the exhaustion worth it. The thought that there's one less curse in the world that could pose a threat to you makes it worth it.
The way he loves you is unconventionally deep, burning hot and bright yet tempered by maturity and practicality. Practical in the sense that he'd do practically anything to keep you safe and happy. Burning in the sense that you set his blood on fire in ways that he can't quite wrap his mind around.
His hips shift against you subconsciously, initially meant as an attempt to get comfier. Then, it happens again. And again. His mouth meets your neck, and you can't ignore it anymore.
"Kento," you say quietly. "Do you need something?"
"You," he says roughly. He sounds like a man on the brink, stable yet one mishap away from tumbling down a cliffside. "Always you. There hasn't been a day that I haven't needed you since we met."
Kento's doesn't put up a fight when you shift to face him. He doesn't try to move away when you unbutton his slacks or when you pull his cock out. He's already hard and leaking pearls of precum, tip flushed an angry red that demands your attention.
Before you can do anything else, Kento's pulling your shorts and panties down. He doesn't have the patience for prep tonight. Doesn't feel like working you open until you're able to take him easily. Patience is Kento's forte. Being thorough is second nature, but even he breaks sometimes.
Instead of dealing with the struggle, he lifts one of your thighs up just enough to spread your lips, sliding his cock in between them and dropping your leg back down. A soft moan gets muffled against your shoulder as he ruts his hips forward.
You're wet enough at this point that the slide of his cock against your cunt is easy. The friction has Kento whimpering and panting against your shoulder, his fingers digging into your waist as he fucks your thighs. The more his pelvis drags against your clit, the wetter you get. Soon enough, the heavy silence in the room is broken by the slick sound of him rutting against you.
The heat emanating from Kento's flushed cheeks and stuttered breaths has a slight sheen of sweat appearing on your chest. Your heart is hammering behind your sternum as the throbbing in your clit grows more and more insistent. As hot as Kento looks like this, you're not getting nearly enough stimulation to deal with the need he has winding through your belly.
"Ken, baby, I need more. Fuck, you're driving me crazy."
Kento's head lifts up from its hiding place against your neck, cheeks flushed and lips bitten raw. His face, usually so stoic, is fraught with desire. "You want me?" he murmurs.
You almost scoff. What kind of fucking question is that? This man has the audacity to come home, slide his cock against your pussy, and then ask if you want him? The look on your face must knock some sense into him because he rolls onto his back a few moments later. Before you can follow after him and seat yourself on his length, he's grabbing you by the hips and lifting you up over his face.
You're facing down the expanse of his strong body, honed after years and years of meticulous training, while he's staring up at the way the dim lamplight makes your slick glisten. Unable to wait another second, he yanks you down over his face and slips his tongue past your entrance. He alternates between fucking you with his tongue and flicking the tip of it over your neglected clit.
Strong arms are locked around your waist, keeping you pressed down over him like he needs you smothering him or he'll drop dead.
But, to be honest, dying between your thighs might be the most merciful death a man in his profession could get.
Even more merciful are your lips as they wrap around the tip of his cock. The second you tongue at his slit, it twitches violently. He's always been so reactive when it comes to you, never able to exercise his usual carefully crafted restraint.
Thinking about having restraint while he's nose-deep in your pussy is laughable. His face is coated with a mixture of his own spit and your slick, and there's no other way he'd rather exist. He's moaning and groaning against you, the pleasure your mouth is giving him rushing right through him, out of his mouth, and right back into you.
His self-control has never been tested more than it is in this moment. He's teetering at the edge of his orgasm, but the way your walls flutter against his tongue tells him you're just as close. The swirling of your tongue around his silky head is incessant, but how could he call himself a man if he let himself cum in your mouth before you came on his?
Thankfully, he doesn't have to find out because you're cumming on his tongue a few moments later. Honey brown eyes roll back into his head as your hips rut down over his nose, riding out your high. You have to pull off his cock. You're too focused on breathing to be able to suck him off properly. The second your hand wraps around his shaft, his orgasm hits him like a truck. Hips rutting up off the bed, a flood of his cum spills over your hand.
Kento finally releases his grip on your hips, but the weight of his hands is still imprinted into your skin. The bedroom is filled with a sticky heat that didn't exist ten minutes ago, but the desperation in the air has melted into something sweeter.
You shift around again so you're lying at Kento's side now. You bring your hand up to his pink lips. There's a few smears of his release lingering on your skin, and he's all too eager to lick your skin clean.
Always serving you, even when others may deem it demeaning. Once your hand's clean, he presses a few soft kisses to your palm and then a few more to your cheeks.
Kento Nanami wears his exhaustion like a curse, but he'll never be too exhausted to love you.
all written content belongs to @cherrys-wrld. i do not own the original characters or the art used above. do not feed my work into ai, repost, translate, or copy it.
āBoromir apologistā he doesnāt have anything to apologize for????? He fell victim to evil ringTM like once. and then immediately redeemed himself. Guys come on.
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