Synopsis. CASE 143.
Objective: To take care of the problem that is Agent 7:3 [CONFIDENTIAL—Name: Nanami Kento, Age: 27] once and for all. The most feared spy in all of Tokyo’s underbelly, with a conviction rate of 100%. And, this time, he’s probed into your higher-ups far too deeply—to take him out you must go undercover…as his wife.
The problem: You're Wanted, and Nanami Kento wants you. Badly.
Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!assassin!reader, spy!Nanami, Spy x Family AU, married couple, marriage of convenience, secret plots, espíonage, vioIence, you’re attempting to kiII him, he knows and likes it, they’re slightly unhinged, romcom vibes, Yuj cameo, Papamin, domestic, apothecaries, aphrodísiac, he’s GONE, he’s pússydrúnk, handcuffs, heels, pIot, oraI (fem rec.), spítting, chokíng, face-ríding, p worship, body worship, Nanami’s big nose, service Nanami, matíng presses, MlLKING him, he’s here to pIease, markíng, manhandIing, cervíx smooching, DÚMBlFICATION, passionate s, heavy overstím, slight marathon, ínappropríate uses of his tie, making it fit, talking you through it, he just wants to be your real HUSBAND, creampíes, cúmpIay, STUFFING YOU, proposals, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 16.9k (ermmmm)
A/N. CONGRATSSSS Nanami nation for winning The Bachelorette poll mwahaha I told you babygirls there’d be a surprise-
Yet another bead of sweat glides down Nanami’s temple; consequences of tugging and prying at the restraints around his wrists to no avail. Hard metal handcuffs. Coiled snakes of metal - he isn’t sure whether it’s the tightness or the temperature that bites into his skin the most.
Though something else was gnawing at him entirely.
He’s seated in the darkness upon a rickety wooden chair, his hands forcefully held behind him. Golden tresses stick to his forehead- and he’s looking up through them as you close in. Eyes narrowed. Something dark shifting behind them…
His voice rasps out, “You have me.”
And you smile.
Pressing the tip of your golden dagger to his throat, stepping the point of your heels between his legs- “Honey, I’ve always had you.”
And he knows he should be trembling at the thought of finally falling into the Garden’s clutches, at the exposure of his identity, at the breach of his secrets.
But he had another problem.
Nanami Kento has never been harder.
Soon enough, you’re rovering your heel ambly up and down the plane of his thighs, up and down, up and down—in nothing but a mere graze.
The tips of his ears scorch red as he feels his smart, smoothened trousers getting tighter n’ tighter by the second. Nanami fights not to let his gaze dart downwards, he fights—but the slightest sensation of your heel inching closer, and he cracks.
Soon enough, your stare follows.
And you’re letting out a curious hum as you take in the bulge he was embarrassingly sporting.
“Oh? What’s this?” He damn-near flinches at the tone of your voice - so mockingly innocent. Nanami knew better- he knew so much better. “My portfolio never said you were such a pervert, Agent 7:3.”
He spits out, “No-”
“Yes.”
And he’s always loved those jet-black, barrel-black, heels of yours- honestly!
They sat collecting dust in a corner of your half of the closet, and he always did think they contrasted perfectly with his pale-green suits.
Though, he did often wonder when you’d bring them out.
He just never could’ve expected this…
Nanami lets out a pained hiss- letting his head drop backwards ever-so-slightly as you’re stepping down even harder. “Hard?” Your smile widens, feeling him throb and twitch beneath your heel. “Getting even harder? How did we ever get here, hubby—?”
How did you two ever get here, indeed.
.
.
.
Nanami remembers the pre-mission briefing perfectly- he always was told he had a photographic memory. However, the details of this particular day stand out so crystal clear in his brain that it was almost too sharp; like a rusty nail, or the point of your heel.
It’d been a sunny Thursday, even though daylight never pierced the headquarters of JISE (Japanese Intelligence Services’ Eastern-focused division). Nanami - though he wasn’t Nanami Kento, here, he was Agent 7:3 - had done this same song and dance, song and dance, song and dance over a hundred times already. It was routine as he flipped through the thick file that’d been slid over to him.
Agent Corpse [CONFIDENTIAL—Yaga Masamichi] sat with his arms crossed and a grim expression upon him that he wore nearly as much as his sunglasses. He waited patiently as Nanami finished reading through the miniscule blocked typing and looked up at him.
“So…” He started, neatly closing the file. “The mission seems standard, I don’t see why I would have any trouble with it.”
Yaga sighed and pushed his shades up, “It’s not the intelligence-gathering I see you having trouble with, rather it’s the…social aspects.”
Nanami raised a blond brow, “Social?”
“This mission-” Yaga sternly tapped the top of the file, “This isn’t one of your lone wolf operations, 7:3. To get close to the head of the Zenin family, you need to take on more roles than one. A family man. A father. A husband.”
The blond man steeped in his silence as his higher-up continued.
“You need to really live in this role, Kento—” He was startled - Yaga almost never called him that. Through his dark sunglasses, the older man’s eyes twinkled. “You need to believe it.”
“I…”
Without waiting for the rest of his sentence, he flicked open the file to a comprehensive list of potential orphanages and single women around his age in Tokyo: the building blocks to his faux-family. “Two people here will be counting on you to believe in your role.” Yaga spoke low, “And whatever that means for them after this mission is over…” This was always the hardest part. “From now onwards, consider yourself a husband and father before a spy. First and foremost.”
Nanami had never carried out a mission that involved other people.
And there was silence that stretched taut and nearly snapped- before Nanami answered in the only way he knew he could.
He looked at nanami with steely brown eyes, “Respectfully, I am the best spy in all of Japan’s Eastern Division for a reason, sir.”
Yaga slammed the file shut. It resounds louder than it should’ve - and there was the slightest smile twitching at his lips. “Good.”
For the good of the nation.
The days thereafter weren’t what Nanami would consider a blur—rather a list of procedures pertinent to his mission, of which he went through them all step by step, strictly and methodically. An exercise so tried and tired by him that he could do them in his sleep (he always slept with one eye open).
First, he rented out a nice home in suburban Shibuya, a spy’s-distance away from the Zenin ancestral home. It was a cosy cookie-cutter home for the cosy cookie-cutter life that he supposes normal civilians have the privilege to live, with cookie-cutter welcome mats and a patch of green garden from which sprouted a spare sprig that one could never be too sure wasn’t plastic. It had a dog home, too. Not because of any request or seeking from Nanami’s side, but because most families that lived in such a place owned one.
So he went out and adopted a shelter dog to keep up with appearances.
And how to explain the mysterious funds to the nosy neighbors? Well, his cover story of living in Denmark because of his grandfather’s side could only hold up for so long - Nanami got a cover job as a psychiatrist at the nearest affluent hospital. And then…
Then came the slightly difficult part.
Nanami Kento had done research on twenty-one different orphanages in Tokyo and several more outside before he’d finally landed in Sendai. And that was where he met Itadori Yuji.
Name: Itadori Yuji.
Age: 6 [March 20th]
Family: None alive. His parents died shortly after his birth [cause unknown], and he was taken care of by his paternal grandfather - his only living family - until he, too, passed from illness [lung cancer].
Other: Has been rehomed four times in the four-month span that he’s been living at the institution. Gets along well with others, cheerful disposition—is generally a good kid, though he seems to have trouble finding a guardian that can handle his energy. No matter how much they tease and taunt him - in the cruel, unknowingly callous way of children - Itadori still attempts to engage with them day after day, particularly with his tiger toy. He just needs some love.
Nanami’s stern eyes lingered on that last word.
He looked up from the sheet that the caregiver had handed to him. It was the first one that he’d been given- and by the sheer speed at which they had, he assumed that they’d been more than eager to get rid of the pink-haired little boy. Nanami glanced around the cream-colored room; small and cardboard-strong. This was a shady place.
He makes note of its location and organization to pass over to Yaga later.
Under the rim of the paper, he could see two small shoes getting scuffed on the carpet.
And as he puts it down to stare at Itadori, the boy raises his tiger toy upwards. An offering.
Wide chocolate eyes and trembling lips.
He looked as if he was about to cry.
Nanami doesn’t take the offering—though he did crouch down and reach his hand out to clasp one chubby, cotton-stuffed hand, he mimicked shaking hands. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Tiger.” Albeit a little stiffly - Nanami somewhat awkwardly attempted to smooth his features down to something warm as he looked at the boy then. “And who might you be?”
He’s never seen a smile wider.
And thus, everything was going according to plan.
There was the slightest hiccup when it turned out that Itadori Yuji needed tutoring - a lot of tutoring - that Nanami pored and labored over until he was seeing fractions in his nightmares, before he could complete the entrance exam for Jujutsu Academy. But he got in—by some cosmic miracle, Itadori Yuji got in.
He’s never been prouder- as a fake father, of course.
Everything really was going to plan. First came the baby, then came the prestigious school acceptance to get Itadori to form an acquaintance with Fushiguro Megumi, then came the marriage.
A little out of order, he knows.
And then after bumping into you at the local bakery he often frequented, he knew he’d found his future wife.
Not in a romantic way—he swears!
He swears.
“Oh…you dropped this.” You’d caught his attention in that gentle tone of yours.
Dropping down, you’d handed him an embroidered handkerchief he’d dropped during the collision - his favorite item to carry, in addition to the fact that it had a slip of poison stuffed between the folds. One he’d been planning to use on one of the Zenin elders just today…
What would he have done without you?
Similarly crouching before you straightened yourself, Nanami had met your eyes tenderly as he took the poisoned handkerchief from you. “Thank you…and your name?”
You’d looked down shyly as you answered. Venom at your fingertips.
He killed a man that evening and could only think about you the entire time- in the best way.
Name: Well, he’d turned it over and over in his mind until it was practically emblazoned.
Age: You never ask a lady her age.
Occupation: Clerk at Tokyo City Hall.
Family/ friends: None of note.
Looks: Perfect.
And Nanami was never a romantic type of man to begin with - it was always work, work, work, espionage. And after a long, hard day of his duties (spying was surprisingly not as thrilling as the movies made it seem) he rarely had the time to think about anything more than that. Something…beyond just his responsibilities.
Something in the future.
He knew he wanted to retire, some day, but that was in a future he didn’t care to set a date on. Setting a date on it made it seem more real.
A picket-fence. A garden. A dog running around that he pretended to grumble at. The pitter-patter of small feet and the laughing of the one that followed it—all while he watched from the front porch. Flashes of such nonsense have run through his mind; but only in the dead of night when he could pass those off as fever dreams. And pretend to forget them in the morning.
And so Nanami Kento got married.
It was a hasty affair - about a week after he met you. Three dates and one introduction to Itadori later (it was important he liked you…because how else would the ruse of a happy family be believable?) and you were submitting a form of marriage registration to the very City Hall you worked at. New to the neighborhood, you didn’t have a lot of friends nor family to invite, which just made Nanami’s just so much easier.
To your coworkers, however, it had garnered the most amusing reaction.
Nanami had been present for a work function of yours, when you’d mustered up your courage and commented to one of your associates that he wasn’t just your boyfriend, and then you’d showed them the ring. He’s never seen more smug jaws dropped.
It’s then that he’d decided you were actually rather humorous. Humorous enough that perhaps this mission, despite its unknowing collaborators, won’t be too hellish after all…
Perhaps he’d even have a decent time playing pretend.
Before he has to leave it all - the home, the doghouse, the dog and the kid who’d be rehomed with a loving family he handpicks, and you.
.
.
.
One week before the marriage.
“You understand that he will be the most difficult target you’ve yet to encounter?”
“I understand.”
“You understand that he is highly-trained, highly-experienced, and dangerous?”
“I understand.”
The masked higher-up straightens and snarls at your assertiveness, “You understand that your mission is not over until you’ve succeeded in assassinating Nanami Kento?”
“I understand.” But no matter how much they attempt to deter you - you’re keeping your head held as high as ever. Hands behind your back. Dagger cutting through the dim lighting with its malicious glints. After so many years in this profession, you can only grow as miserable and nerve-wracked to an extent before every target simply becomes a job.
More than that; you fume silently as those damn higher-ups at the Garden underestimate you.
The Garden was a group of specially-trained assassins operating predominantly within inner-Tokyo, though you did branch off to other wards when required. And of them all, you were their #1: the best of the best, a kill count that you’d stopped measuring, the one they sent on only the most hazardous missions.
There was a reason you’d been nicknamed The Phantom.
Playboys. Politicians. Athletes and singers—you’ve seen it all. The good and the bad. The deserving and perhaps the undeserving- though you never pondered upon it.
They were all the same faceless, breathless targets to you. And your dagger always hit bullseye.
Sometimes, however…sometimes you did wonder what the bigger ripples of your jobs were. Would anyone search for them? Would anyone notice? Would anyone cry nor care? Was this, perhaps, what stopped you from finally leaving this damn place - were you deserving of such leniency?
Sometimes you did wonder whether you withheld from the simple pleasures in life because you were punishing yourself, in a way. A family. A hearth. A home. But a guilty assassin was no better than one of their own targets - there are more ways to die than just in the physical.
And so you didn’t think about it.
You didn’t do anything but glare at the higher-up that sat behind his desk, his papers, and his smooth white mask. Who were they to undermine you? “I have never failed a mission before, and I will never fail a mission ahead. I will take this job and complete it before you even know what’s happened.”
He lets out a wheezing chuckle- it was abnormal for them to be so flippant about your success rate when it comes to a job. “That’s the spirit.” He throws over a paper-thin file, “You’ll need it.”
You’ve taken down spies before- hell, you’ve even taken down other assassins. To have him act so dubious about this job? Jolting a step towards him, it really made you wonder about the nature of this particular target…
And so you’re flipping through the single page of information the Garden had on him.
Case 143
Codename: Agent 7:3 [rumored to be linked to the target’s impeccable ability to find the weakest points when attacking any building, vault, or person.]
Name: Nanami Kento.
Age: 27
Height: 6’1 - 6’2
Looks: Blond hair. Hazel eyes. Fine features. Broad-shouldered and fairly toned, he is known to be partial to suits and other clean-cut clothes above anything else.
Profession: Secret agent.
Family: Unknown.
Residence: Unknown.
Current mission: Unknown.
Status: Currently active and HIGHLY DANGEROUS.
Those last two words had been underlined twice.
But you were determined.
In the time assigned to you by the higher-ups, you deduced that you’d have about three attempts.
What’s that saying about keeping your friends close but your enemies closer? You wondered whether there was anything in there about marrying them.
.
.
.
First attempt.
Long-distance sniping wasn’t exactly the most comfortable technique.
Then again, perhaps you were just experienced enough to worry about such a thing. You’d be lucky.
You’re laid low on your front; against the slightly-damp rooftop of a building between SHIBUYA SKY and Shibuya Hikarie. The cold, hard floor pushed against your body and lifted you meters overlooking the scramble below—humans, animals, cars, all in a symbiotic collision of which contact never happened.
You’ve been married to Nanami Kento for about a week now.
And in that week you’ve taken note of his routine, his work hours, his favorite stops along the route…home. All under the guise - the guise - of being his considerate wife.
And it’d turned out to be a worthy sacrifice in the end once you’d discovered that the stoic, sensible Agent 7:3 had what you’d never have expected of him: a sweet tooth. Everyday after work, no matter how tired he is, he’d stop by the bakery he met you in—picking out a few treats to bring home to you and Itadori.
It was a cosy establishment squatted on a corner of Shibuya Crossing and next to the apothecary; vines creeping down the sides, wide-open wooden doors, and decorated with luscious baked goods in the window. The only reason you yourself had gone there was to manufacture a meeting with Nanami. But here he was right now, seated in a window booth with a book in his hands. Gold-rimmed glasses on his nosebridge. Legs stretched out beneath the table. Blond brows furrowed just a little as his eyes scanned the page.
He looked almost like something out of a movie. Perhaps he couldn’t have looked more unassuming if he tried.
You’re letting your gaze linger on him through the rifle scope for a few seconds.
And it’s in this brief pocket of time that Nanami sets his book down, takes off his glasses, and looks through the window straight in your direction. Yours.
You startle.
You take perfect aim at his head and shoot.
BANG!
Meanwhile, Nanami Kento is having a quiet relaxation - a rare moment. His ‘job’ as a psychiatrist kept him more busy than he would have expected, on top of using the position to spy on the vast Zenin members that flitted in and out of the hospital sometimes. He was about halfway through the last story of The King in Yellow, marking down notes on the Zenins in its margins, when he straightens up and glances down at his watch.
Humming to himself at the time, Nanami gathers his things and looks up at the sunny sky above. It was a beautiful day.
Thus, in prim, precise movements, he’s getting up - not too fast - and making his way to the counter to tip the serving staff extra.
CRASH!
Nanami’s taken just a single step away from where the bullet surely would have struck him—a honed head of metal that shatters the Tokyo atmosphere at over 1200 meters per second. With a deafening cracking sound, it makes the bakery window burst beneath its pressure, sending shards of glass flickering in his direction; Nanami steadily puts his open book down and lets the fragments hit the leather cover instead of him.
There’s a scream.
And then there’s chaos.
People running. Children crying. Cars stopping on the road. No one was hurt in the least - if anything, it was just that poor book he’d have to replace with a new cover.
But he understands that this line of work meant he was more used to such things than civilians- perhaps more than he should be. And he was a Wanted man - not by the law but by those who think they’re above it. And so he’s calmly walking over to the counter as the rest of the customers inside the bakery evacuate. Placing a large wad of cash on its wooden plane, he’s just about to leave before he looks more suspicious—before turning right back around and plucking out something from the lavish sweet display - your favorite. And then one more loaf of milk bread for Itadori.
Plopping them down in a bag, he makes his way out.
This morning, he’d told Itadori to meet him on the other side of Shibuya Crossing- he steps onto the zebra-patterned road right now and can see the little boy waving frantically from the other side. A ball of sunshine energy and a coat of orange far too big for him, but it’s one that he’d grow into - or at least, that’s the excuse Nanami had made when it’d turned out that he’d picked the wrong size. Damn, he needs to fix that.
For the mission, of course. Nanami shakes his head back into rationality.
Quickly crossing the road, the boy throws his arms around the blond man’s legs.
“Papa—!” He squeals, chubby hands grabbing at his three-piece suit. Itadori’s Spider-Man backpack jostles just a little as he jumps up and down, “What took you so long? It was so scawy waiting here…people are running about.”
“My apologies, Yuji.” Nanami responds, looking behind his small figure. “But I see you brought your friends along for moral support.”
Pink brows frown, “What’s mowal support?”
Behind him, the frames of Kugisaki Nobara and Fushiguro Megumi shuffle about - his (temporary) son’s best friends from school, and it was just as convenient that the black-haired boy was exactly their ticket into siphoning more information about the Zenin family - and Nanami nods at them graciously. “Thank you for walking my son here.”
“Hah, no problem.” Kugisaki crosses her arms smugly, “He was scared so of course we had to-”
“Was not—!”
Fushiguro, meanwhile, just squints at the sky. “There was a strange noise. It sounded like thunder.”
“There was, wasn’t there?” Nanami responds, looking around. The chaos had largely calmed down by now, and as police surrounded the bakery, little by little Shibuya seemed to be getting back to its usual sort of commotion—he looks down at the oblivious starry-eyed boy. “Perhaps that was your mother on her way, I always do say she fell from heaven.”
Itadori frowns, “That sounds like it would hurt.”
Fushiguro scoffs, “That sounds illogical.”
“What’s illogicwal mean?”
Kugisaki squeals, “That sounds romantic-”
“Ewwwww.”
“That’s right.” Nanami tilts his head up and looks in the direction between SHIBUYA SKY and Shibuya Hikarie. Where the shot had come from, he does not need to wonder why. “That is romantic, isn’t it?”
Again, right at you.
And from on top of that rooftop, the long-range rifle drops from your hands.
You hadn’t known that he’d be meeting the three kids afterwards. And perhaps if you’d had an inkling then…
No.
Even as you watched the miniscule shape of Nanami Kento - Agent 7:3 - throw Itadori over his shoulders and clasp both Fushiguro and Kugisaki’s hands as he carefully crossed the bustling road with them, heading in the direction of the sweets’ shop down the road (his second-favorite stop to spoil Itadori), you knew you had a job to do.
And you had to do it, even if it killed you in the process.
That evening, you’re home when he comes back.
“I’m home, darling.” Setting his heavy bags down, as usual. Letting Itadori in before gently clicking the door shut, as usual. Asking you how your day at ‘work’ was before wrapping you in a hug, as usual.
If he suspected you had anything to do with that stray gunshot at the bakery, then he’s made no indication since- you’d seen nothing on the news, either. And by now you’ve convinced yourself that the intensity of his gaze upon you on Shibuya Crossing was a mere fluke. A mere coincidence. Perhaps he was just looking at a strangely-shaped cloud above—
And then he produces the paper bag in his hands.
Looking inside, you gulp.
He’d memorized your order perfectly.
“I got the last one, can you believe it? It seems that the bakery will be undergoing some construction in the following weeks.” Nanami spoke as he shrugs off his coat, looking at you with a slight twinkle in his eyes. “It’s your luck, my love.”
“R-really…?” You didn’t know what to say. Merely holding the bag limply in your hands, as if it would detonate any second now. Just your luck, indeed…
Unsure where to even look- you’re staring after the pink-haired boy that’d rampaged inside, pretending he was Spider-Man.
“Mhm.” Nanami mutters to himself as he walks inside. “I’ll have to learn to make it at home, however…”
.
.
.
Second attempt.
Perhaps you needed some collaborators, too.
It’d been a beautiful summer-drenched Friday when Nanami had suggested taking Itadori and his two best friends out to the aquarium.
It was one of his few days off- which in and of itself was shocking. It seems that Nanami had been working himself to the bone recently, and the office had taken initiative to force the blond man into taking a holiday. You’d perked up in your love seat, a novel in your hands—but between the pages was a leaflet on poison concoctions that you’d been reading through.
“The aquarium?” You’re smiling sweetly up at your handsome husband, running about a hundred different ways you could kill him there. “Why, that sounds wonderful, Kento. I’ll get Yuji from the garden-”
“You just get yourself ready, darling.” Nanami’s voice was deep and warm - it felt like the spread of heat after drinking hot cocoa, the way it starts from the pit of your stomach before eventually ebbing into every one of your fingertips. “I’ll worry about wrangling Yuji into the bath. Take your time.”
Oh—all the assassination plans you could concoct in that time!
Attempting to keep the smile off of your face, you’re leaping up onto your feet and heading in the direction of your shared bedroom to get ready. Making just about one step- two- three…before halting in your tracks and swivelling right back around. Nanami’s keen ears catch onto the difference in the determined cadence of your footsteps and he looks back at you.
Questions ready on his tongue, “What’s wro-”
And for perhaps the first time, the ever-eloquent Nanami Kento is rendered speechless.
Because you’re placing a hand on his shoulder and leaning him towards you with a single tug- pressing your lips against his svelte cheek.
Nanami’s skin is warm against yours - and you know it only makes logical sense, but some part of you had perhaps wondered whether his body was just as cold as his professional demeanor. Despite being married you hadn’t quite…consummated the marriage yet—and he understood, he could wait. He didn’t need something if it wasn’t related to his mission, of course
And you’re trying to convince yourself that this is part of yours- to gain trust, you rationalize.
The kiss lasts less than two seconds, and your heart thump-thump-thumps against your chest as you pull away. Refusing to meet his eyes, his raised brows, his speechlessness, you’re turning heel and speed-walking to the bedroom.
All for the mission.
All for the mission.
All for the mission.
Little did you know that someone else in the house was thinking the same thing.
Nanami stands there unsteadily for a few seconds before heading to the garden to gather Itadori.
Before high noon, you were all ready and had picked up Kugisaki and Fushiguro to go to the aquarium - during which Nanami had been glad to snoop around the Zenin family home as he took the little boy off his guardian’s hands.
The aquarium was an entire ecosystem itself.
The entire world was seeped in blue, and sunlight dazzled from above the largest attractions to create patterns of gold that looked almost unearthly. Parents tugged by children, teenagers tugged by parents; friends and couples that flitted from tank to colorful tank in a near-aqueous way. Laughs and excited gasps—melding in symphony with the honking of clown horns, with the occasional burst of a balloon. It seems that many families - and you use the term because there was none better - had the same idea as yours, and the smell of sticky, sweet strawberry ice cream hits your nose as soon as you enter the area for water exhibits.
Passing by the lively tanks, hand-in-hand with Itadori, your gaze catches on something that sparks an idea in your mind. “Yuji…” You’re dropping down to be eye-level with the pink-haired little boy, “Why don’t you and your friends go and check out the touch tank over there?”
“The touch tank?” He nervously looks over to the lowly-fenced exhibit surrounded by children and a few handlers. It was a well-managed tank, widespread with nooks and crannies and rock masses along the sides, a hand-washing station before it; squeals emerged occasionally where a participant happened to touch something particularly slimy. He kicks the ground, “Hmm.”
Kugisaki wraps her arms around one of his, “Oh- c’mon, idiot.”
“Hey-”
And then she leans in and whispers in something that wasn’t a whisper at all - but what would a six-year-old know about secrets? Adults knew far too much. “Your momma obviously wants to spend some romantic time with your papa, don’t you have common sense?”
You have to bite back a laugh- sure, you wanted to be alone with him.
Though not for any reason they could conjure up.
He sputters, “I-I…” Looking over at Fushiguro for help.
Fushiguro, notably, doesn’t help.
Instead he walks over to an exhibit of sea urchins.
“I want momma and papa to be happy.” Itadori fiddles with his orange overcoat. And your heart clenches—when this is all over you don’t know how you’re going to explain this to him. But you’d be damned if you weren’t allowed to take him for yourself- wait.
You’re shaking your head.
You were thinking nonsense.
And you’re composing yourself just in time for Itadori to look up at Nanami and receive a gentle nod in reassurance - whatever he does, the older man would be content with.
Itadori lets himself be dragged away by the ginger-haired girl- only if that meant he could drag the human version of a disgruntled little sea urchin with him, too. And as the kids have their fun, you’re promising that the two of you won’t be too far away and to definitely call one of you if they need you—before you’re wrapping both arms around one of Nanami’s.
Hugging him to you, you peer into his gold-flecked eyes softly. “I’d really like to see the blue-ringed octopus exhibit, Kento.”
He slightly coughs out his answer, “A-and so we shall, my love.”
And so here was the plan: the venomous creatures were the least-visited. So you’d drag the spy away where one couldn’t see, get him distracted by them, and knock him unconscious with the chloroform-soaked handkerchief you had carefully packaged in one pocket. Dagger in your other pocket. Then you’d finish the job, of course.
Then, outside, was a Discretion Team from the Garden that would discard the evidence, and let you take the kids back home- perhaps even concoct some excuse about ‘a work thing’ coming up at the hospital and causing him to leave.
It was perfect.
It was perfect.
Next to the squid exhibition and the camouflage section, Nanami Kento was completely and utterly entranced by the octopus exhibit. His face paints in a blue light as he watches the alien-like movements of the creatures, so much so that he doesn’t even notice you slipping behind him—digging through your pockets before plastering his face with the damp handkerchief.
Nanami’s hand comes up to touch your wrist, though you’re unmoveable.
He breathes the chloroform in deep.
And then he wavers.
You got him.
Your heart rate spikes, thinking it’s time- fuck, you’ve finally gotten him. Keeping one hand with the chloroform pressed up against him, you’re just about to reach for the dagger snuck into your pocket. He was on the verge of being completely knocked out.
But someone on the verge of being completely knocked out wouldn’t tighten his grip on your wrist, would he?
Your heart runs cold.
Preventing you from grabbing your weapon, you feel Nanami smile beneath the thin fabric. Before imitating a sneeze into the handkerchief- “A—choo! Thank you, my love. How did you know I was allergic to the smell of squid ink?”
“You-” And you’re tugging your hand - and the venomous handkerchief - away from him as though his skin burned.
“Yes?”
But he keeps his fingers intertwined with yours even as you pull away, letting them dangle between you two when you’re stepping into his line of sight once more and assessing every inch of him. His eyes? Clear. His gait? Steady. His expression? Normal (handsome).
No signs of dizziness, fatigue, or the signs of your plan working in motion.
But the chloroform—
Eventually, he lets your hands fall limply to your sides, and you’re looking down at the fabric in shock. Nanami Kento was still standing- and he hums as he turns back to the blue-ringed octopuses; slithering underneath an arch of coral as they, too, went into hiding.
He clasps his hands behind his back and speaks to no one in particular, “Odd, isn’t it? I’m immune to 562 poisons and over a thousand toxic substances, but it’s squid ink that makes my system flare up.”
Your jaw drops. Silently, solemnly, you find yourself standing beside him. “You’re…immune…”
He merely nods, staring through the tank. Gaze on something far away.
“I bet that was difficult.” There was a Poisons Division in the Garden as well, and you’d heard of the sheer torture they had to go through to make themselves immune to such things: one could make the body a scab to all things toxic, but underneath that was still a wound. You yourself knew that all too well. Ultimately, you say. “Must have to do with your work as a psychiatrist.”
Nanami nods, “Must have.”
There’s a shriek then the pitter-patter of small footsteps.
You’re so wound-up and taut that it makes you jump slightly closer to Nanami- and he’s readily steadying you against his side. Arms on your shoulders.
“See, I told you they were being all romantic—!”
Nanami holds back a chuckle, “We should get going.” And unbeknownst to you, his eyes follow…follow…follow a man with dark hair streaked with grey, one that could only ever belong to the Zenin family. Zenin Naobito was lurking in the corners of the aquarium, the most unassuming place for one to conduct secret meetings with contractors that pretended they weren’t here for the same reason.
Because why else would Nanami go on a family outing, right?
Right?
.
.
.
Third (and final) attempt.
“—and don’t forget your second change of clothes.” The only thing preventing Itadori from darting out of the house and into any oncoming cars was your single hand hooked around the handle of his Spider-Man backpack.
The only thing keeping him in one place.
Somewhat.
With the other, you’re attempting to shove down the spare t-shirt and shorts you’d picked out for him. Knowing your son, there wasn’t any sort of trouble, puddle, or cake batter that he wouldn’t somehow find and get into. And you don’t know what sort of house the Zenins ran, but you were determined to be on their good side.
And so you’re huffing and puffing, beads of sweat forming at your forehead, as you attempt to push it down the humble space- honestly, you didn’t understand why they didn’t just make these things a bit bigger. Just the slightest bit.
At this rate, he’s never going to…
“Itadori Yuji.” Your voice comes out deadpan, and the pink-haired boy turns to you with wide, innocent eyes.
Sweetly, “Yes, momma?”
“Why have you packed your entire Hot Wheels collection for a sleepover?”
Whatever he spouts about wanting to show Fushiguro and Kugisaki, whatever explanations he’s giving about moral support (honestly, where did he even learn such a thing?), goes in one ear and out the other.
Because yes—Fushiguro had invited Itadori and Kugisaki over for a sleepover at their home. It was convenient given that the two boys were practically next-door neighbors, and after the success of their aquarium visit you were hesitant to part the trio. Thus, it seems that Fushiguro had all but thrown a tantrum and attempted to run away from home in order to convince his guardian to agree to a sleepover. Which was sweet, of course.
But this was Itadori’s first, and any mother would be nervous about that sort of thing- wait.
But you weren’t a mother…technically. This was all a ruse for your mission, and so you’re shaking your head and pushing the bundled-up clothes deeper into his backpack, perhaps in order to drive that point home.
You’re interrupted by a gentle hand on your shoulder.
“Let me take over, my love.”
You’re shifting aside to let Nanami handle the little issue swiftly—with a firm hand - thick fingers, prominent veins, that wedding ring on his left hand - he tugs Itadori back inside the house. “Now now, sunshine. What have we said about taking our toys out of the house?”
He tilts his head up n’ juts his little bottom lip out, “To take only one.”
Nanami lifts the bag just slightly to the side and takes a glance, “And does this look like only one?”
“No…” Itadori sighs.
Soon, you’re finding just about half the Hot Wheels production line laid out, side-by-side and color-coordinated, on the threshold to your home. It looked like a miniature parking lot of which Itadori grumbled as he pushed the clothes into the newly-presented space inside the bag and zipped it shut. Pouting.
Nanami chuckles gently, crouching down so that he was eye-level with the boy. ”You know momma and papa love you, right, sunshine?”
“I know…”
“And you understand why it would be difficult to take all the cars?”
Itadori takes a second to think, before giving you both a determined nod. “I do.” And you’re feeling something within you soar- but you’re forgoing wondering just what it means to feel so proud for the boy.
“Good.” Your blond husband stands with heave, taking one of Itadori’s arms and turning around to look at you. “Say bye-bye to momma, Yuji.”
He turns with a beaming smile and a chubby arm raised in goodbye. “Bye-bye, momma.”
“I’ll see you in a bit, my love.” Nanami leans in and—presses a sweet, sweet peck to your cheek. Heat seems to sear from where his lips touched, spreading across your chest and all the way down to your toes. You feel your heat batter against your ribcage- fuck.
Was this what he’d felt the other day?
Two seconds; it’s as far as your intimacy as a married couple goes. And in that time Itadori brings his hands up to cover his eyes with a giggled, “Ewwwww—!”
With an amused shake of his head, the father-son duo set off. Since the Zenin household was in the same neighborhood, about a street away, it was only about a five-minute walk to get there.
Which is why you had to act fast.
Nanami Kento would be home in less than ten minutes - he wouldn’t have Itadori to slow down his long strides on the way back. And you’re standing there with the front door ajar as they leave, waving…waving…waving-
The very moment their backs disappear, you’re slamming the door shut and racing to the kitchen.
There, you’re reaching up to the very topmost cabinet: grabbing the new liquorice-flavored cereal you knew that no one in the house would touch. Of course, you’d emptied out the cereal this very morning.
And all that remained in the cardboard box inside was a slim vial you’d bought from the apothecary.
It wasn’t exactly what one would consider menacing, but it was exactly what you needed for your Hail Mary attempt at completing your mission. It was made of a crystal-clear glass, fashioned into a reticello design, with a label containing some information and a stopper of gold that made the contents within seem far more elegant than they were in reality.
Dark brown powder that looked like ground up dirt.
An unassuming little substance you’d rippled with excitement over at the apothecary’s. So much so that you’d damn-near didn’t hear half the things she said- but it’s fine. You were an assassin, right?
And what was an assassin that didn’t know how to use the most powerful poison in the nation?
Material XXX.
You’ve never seen it with your own two eyes. Nanami might have been immune to chloroform, but there was no living person on Earth that could resist this.
Oh—it was beautiful…And it mixed so perfectly with the ground-up coffee you were adding to your coffee maker. One steaming hot cup of coffee had already been made and upon the kitchen counter beside you, it let out hot swirls of heat as you tampered with the other one. Sweetly fragrant.
You smile- he’ll be dead in one sip. And, sure, you might have some explaining to do to Itadori - but doesn’t all good coffee spark conversation?
You’re still running through the list of excuses in your mind once the brewing comes to a stop.
And just in time, the front door clicks! open.
“He was so excited he tripped five times.” Nanami’s deep sigh echoes into the kitchen. You hear the shuffling sounds of him taking his shoes off, shrugging his coat onto the rack, stepping inside. “Though the other two were just the same- could you please make us some coffee, darling, while I get started on dinner?”
“You’ll ruin your dinner, Kento.” You call out to him, “And I already have.”
His handsome head pops out from the door, golden strands slightly tousled from the walk. Nanami breathes in the unmistakable scent of coffee piercing the kitchen air, and smiles. “You’re the best.”
“In many ways.” Leaning back against the counter, you’re handing his freshly-made cup - poured into a large mug that said #1 Papa - to him.
Nanami’s large hands pluck it from yours and he whispers, “Thank you.” Looking down at the scalding concoction that still swirled within, “I really mean it, you know.”
“What?” You’re looking up at him in surprise.
“You’re the best.”
Your fingers grow tighter around your own mug: World’s Best Momma.
“Drink your coffee before it gets cold, Kento.”
He hums through a smile, before blowing on the similarly-fragrant steam. It smelled of jasmine and spring and something like love; but you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you? It’s almost a tease—watching Nanami swirl the coffee around a bit, watching him affirm his grip, watching him leeeean his stern lips in before-
“Aren’t you going to drink up, my love?” You almost startle - Nanami was staring at you through his blond tresses, brows furrowed in slight concern. “Are you alright? You look a little…tense.”
“I-I’m perfectly alright—” You hasten to explain- if Nanami got suspicious now and refused to drink his coffee, then there was no way you’re completing this mission. Without wasting anymore time, you’re bringing your coffee up to your own lips - though you don’t take a sip just yet. “Just thinking about work, you know how it is…”
He nods. “We’ve both been really busy lately, haven’t we? I apologize if I’ve made you feel a little lonely these days-”
“Not at all-”
“But still.” Nanami was determined. Those molten brown eyes of his seemed to be pinning you down to the tiled kitchen floor, and the heat of your body contrasted with its frigidness. “I apologize. Tonight, let’s just take some time for the two of us—we can watch a show, we can do some puzzles, tell me about your favorite book and we can read it together.”
You’re refusing to meet his eyes- you can’t. “That…that would be lovely.”
“To us.” Your husband - the spy, you have to remind yourself - outreaches his arm and clinks! your two mugs together in a toast.
“To us.” You weakly whisper.
And then you take a sip and watch him do the same.
Immediately, you know something’s wrong.
From the slightly sour- slightly sweet- taste coating your tongue—to the way that Nanami takes a long, deep swig and sighs out in satisfaction. He doesn’t drop dead. He doesn’t grab his throat in agony. He doesn’t even stagger where he’s standing as he loses consciousness-
Nanami sets his coffee mug down and grins.
“Poison working for you, darling?” And your own drops from your hand and shatters. “Oh dear, let me take care of that-”
“Stop.”
In the middle of reaching for the sweeping pan, Nanami halts and looks at you with slightly unfocused, glazed eyes. Heat rising to his cheeks. Breaths coming out in murked pants. Ones that you were sure mirrored your own.
You felt as if you had a fever five times over and someone had still set you on fire—
Your temperature was soaring through the roof and searing through your skin, making your clothes feel clammy and clinging onto your form. A bead of sweat trickles down the side of your temple. But even more than that was the way that- fuck, it was the heat between your damn legs. It was aching. Something deep and primal—something clawing at you from your insides and making you shudder as you lock eyes with Nanami once again.
Before you know it, he’s wrapping an arm around your waist to help steady you. And nothing more- did you want something more?!
You’re boring into his eyes and finding out that he wasn’t any better. Not in the least.
In fact, he’d drunk more of the potioned coffee than you.
Your wettened lips part and out comes the only thing you know how to say right now, “Kento.”
He jolts at the sound of his first name wrapped around your tongue. So sexual.
And his own words come out a gravelly croon, “Didn’t read the label, assassin?” That smile of his looked almost feral in the light you were looking at him right now. “Because I did.”
He attempts to pull away to show the label to you- the vial of powder he’d found.
The plans he’d ruined.
The secrets he’d discovered.
The temperature in the kitchen was near-sizzling.
But the only thing you can think to do is claw your hands outwards and clutch his white shirt with an unfounded ferocity. One of his buttons pop! off and end up on the kitchen floor.
Chuckling, he gives up letting you see the label for yourself. If you won’t let him go, then…without a single warning, Nanami’s leaning in so that his pretty lips graze your ear. The front of his toned chest pushes up against you- and perhaps the only thing that helps you focus is the rapid, ravenous ba-dump! Ba-dump! Ba-dump! of his heart. Pummeling. “Because if you did, then perhaps you’d have seen that Material XXX isn’t supposed to come into contact with caffeine, my love…”
You gasp, hands twisting even deeper into his button-up.
“Because then, it doesn’t become a poison at all.” The long line of his nose glides down your throat, sending shivers skittering across wherever he was in contact with. He stops against a spot you knew was sensitive and softly blooooooows—cold air against hot skin.
You shiver.
And he merely continues in a rasp, “Because then, it becomes a substance that draws out your deepest desires. Amplifying pre-existing needs that the host contains, those that might be hidden due to…other reasons. So consider it an experiment of sorts. Can you recognize what this concoction is for you, darling?”
“A-an aphrodisiac.” Your eyes threaten to flutter shut- the mere breeze of his breath makes your thighs clench.
He nods. “An aphrodisiac.”
“How long have you known?” More honest than ever; the question blurts out of your lips.
Nanami takes the time to think, “Since the sniping in Shibuya is when I knew.” With lewd, lethargic eyes he looks you up and down- up and down…“But to be honest, I’ve always suspected.”
You growl—“So then you know I’m here to kill you-”
“So try me.”
You lunge.
.
.
.
And perhaps that was how he got here.
Nanami feels the very pointed tip of your heel graze his bulging erection- and he bucks. Not enough to finally free himself, but enough that it makes the chair cricket—and you’re looking down at him through your lashes.
He’s forced to stop his head from throwing backwards, bearing his sensitive throat. Maybe it was the pressure, maybe it was the aphrodisiac, maybe it was the fact that he’s wanted you for so fucking long now- but he feels zaps of white-hot pleasure course through his body.
All the way from the in-betweens of his meaty thighs, riveting like snakes into every one of his limbs. Eventually up to his poor brain.
Slow and steady; you’re watching the fabric of Nanami’s trousers darken. Seeping and spreading the more he tried to press his legs together to hide it.
And once you’re roverin’ your foot over his cock- he moans.
Grin spreading, the further you step down on him, the louder those squelches from his puddle of cum were. “Awww, already, Kento? They didn’t have that in your file.”
Somehow through it all, he manages out such a ravenously handsome grin. Blond hairs disarrayed. Tie askew. Shirt unbuttoned down until you could see golden hairs peeking out. “Th-they probably didn’t have a lot of things.”
“True.” You respond, stepping down harder and he gasps- “But remember who’s in charge now.”
Nanami looks at you through unfocused, half-lidded eyes. “Always was you, darling.”
“Flatterer.” Harder.
“Fuh-fuuuuck…” He spits. Head dropping forwards, a thin line of drivel escapes from his parted mouth and adds onto the mess below. You’re watching it glisten underneath the dim lighting of the bedroom - one you’d somehow manage to drag the blond spy into. “Do that again and I’m going to cream my pants once more, my love.”
Your jaw slightly drops at the matter-of-fact way he was phrasing it. The Nanami Kento you’d been married to never uttered a word like this- “Well…”
“Is that what you’d like?” And, suddenly, his eyes are sharper than before. You had your leg raised so that you could step on his most sensitive bits, but you failed to realize that also meant he had access to your own…to rub his cheek against your inner thigh like a cat yearning for the cream. “Is that what you want your husband to do in repentance?”
“W-we’re not even really married-” Taken aback. Heat flaring where his pants fanned you- your dagger trembles where you held it against his throat. Close enough to cut.
And yet he was still craning his face - his mouth - as near as he could get to your cunt. Mouth watering. A crimson bead where your blade was rested-
“But we could be.” And you’re lost for words. Nanami just looked so pathetic beneath you in ways you never could’ve even imagined: eyes blown wide and dazed, mouth permanently unhinged as he inched towards your soaked underwear, breaths getting more n’ more labored the longer you kept pinning his clothed cock down with your heel.
He had his hands cuffed behind him and was aching to get between those legs - and you’re unsure whether you should blame just the aphrodisiac. Desperation seeps into his words, “But we could consummate this marriage.”
Your lips part.
He doesn’t waste a second.
“Seven times over just to make up for the time we’ve lost.” And then he’s tipping his head back and bearing you with a grin, “Fuck my cock raw, my wife.”
And how could you ever say no to that?
You don’t—instead, what you’re doing is taking advantage of the needy way his jaw was unhinged in a soundless prayer. One that you’re answering with a direct spit- lips pursed, you’re letting a glittering glob of saliva paste against his lips.
Purposefully missing the precise target, the lewd translucent liquid splatters against the side of his lips before ultimately trickling inwards. And you’re watching with your jaw dropped as his Adam’s apple bobs- as he swallows.
Perhaps that was the last straw.
The tip of your glinting blade draws a perfect line down Nanami’s middle - just enough pressure to scrape a harmless line of white down his exposed skin. And then you’re slashing those ropes that bound him to the chair.
Metal restraints, you watch him semi-free himself.
And you’re turning around and walking to the bed.
Sitting at the very edge.
Resting your palms behind you.
Your legs spread-spread-spreeeeeead wide enough that he gets a view good enough to make his slightly-teary eyes bulge. Lips parting. Cock twitching. You’re tilting your head casually to the side and beckoning him—“If you want it, come and get it, Nanami Kento.”
Handcuffed and hands behind his back, the famous agent has no other choice than to get on his knees and crawl over to you.
Fucking crawling.
The carpet chafes beneath his knees, the sound echoes as he inches and inches- torturously slow. Body bowed. Chest heaving.
Whilst you don’t move a single degree.
It might have been hours- it might have been fucking eons that are passing by before Nanami reaches the foot of the bed; burning up far more from the fever of wanting you than any aphrodisiac in existence. He honed senses raise into the air - and he’s getting a whiff of that honeyed fragrance from your pussy. Almost singing to him, surely it wasn’t just because of that powder that he thinks it’s the most delicious-smelling thing on Earth.
His stomach nearly growls.
And then Nanami’s between your parted legs and famished.
All good spies deserve a treat, right?
Before you know it, Nanami’s leaned in and having his lips glued to your clothed cunt. Fucking glued. They were puckered and pert—both pairs of lips, and the vibrations of his moan make your back arch as he tastes you for the very first time.
Just the most innocent kiss.
The first time that he’s getting everything he’s fucking dreamed of.
Because whenever you left the house dressed so prettily, whenever you hummed at the taste of your favorite baked good, whenever you bent over to pick up something- you didn’t know it, but…Nanami stared.
Oh, how he stared n’ licked his hungry lips.
Wondering just how sweet your pretty, pretty cunt would taste - just how fucking sooooft and tender your pussylips would feel once he’s finally giving them that nice French kiss they deserved. All up on his tongue.
Despite being such a gentleman to everyone around him—who’d have guessed that Nanami Kento would have the dirtiest thoughts of them all? That whenever he gazed upon you with that ‘ruse’ of affection, he was actually hiding something far…far darker.
The dirtiest thoughts that he was acting upon right now.
With his honed tastebuds swipin’ down your wet slit, Nanami counts every bead of slick that you’re leaking through your panties. Sugary sweet. He’s boring his smoldering gaze into yours as he—with a slurp! lets those pearly translucent droplets collect on the tip of his tongue, and then glide, glide, gliiiiiide deep down to the back of his throat.
Blond lashes flickering his eyes shut at the flavorful taste, Nanami groans.
“C-can I prove it now…?”
You almost don’t recognize his voice.
The tone of it sends fire shooting straight between your legs- and without thinking twice, you lean your weight on your hands and edge even closer. Whining, “Prove what, Kento?”
And he seems almost embarrassed to answer.
Almost shy now—
Though the heat of the aphrodisiac and the globules of slick stuck to his chin were making him more of an honest man by the second. “I need to prove that m’worthy of being your husband, pussy.”
Was he talking to you or…?
Fuck.
Sense coming back to him in bursts and stutters, Nanami shakes his head briefly- “I mean-” A blush rises to the tips of his ears, though his eyes remain as starved as ever—“I need to prove that m’worthy of being a good husband to both you and-” His biceps bulge as he struggles against the handscuffs briefly, pathetically and lovingly nuzzling the hot in-betweens of your folds. “-this girl right here.”
The way he says it…fuck.
He gives off the impression of a man that’s been starved for ages- for eons. There was something almost wolfish imprinted onto his expression, and the whites of his teeth feature an appearance between your legs as Nanami leans in; with knitted brows and a ragged emphasis, he’s asking - begging - once more. “Please-” Mahogany eyes just so earnest, “Marry me?”
Marry him?
Your jaw drops.
Was he so pussydrunk already that he’s genuinely proposing?
Or was it just the aphrodisiac—you’re not waiting to find out.
Readily, Nanami only needs to feel a single shove of your glistenin’ wet pussy against his mouth - before he’s letting his eyes roll to the back of his skull. Farther and farther. Almost blindly, he uses his pointed chin to dig himself even deeper. And he couldn’t spread your pretty thighs apart with his arms, so he’s resorting to fitting his burly body - shoving your legs apart with his broad shoulders - until he gets closer to your core. Your dripping wet core,
Simply soaked.
Just a single strand of blond sticks to his forehead—usually-slicked hair coming out of its neat style now. And Nanami isn’t shy to sliiiide apart your drenched panties with his tongue, then start pressing kiss after open-mouthed kiss.
Wide-mouthed. Gaping.
Just the most teasing, faintish whispers of his tongue. Feverish in speed.
The sopping, smooth edge of his tastebuds lodge inside and slathers itself in all of your syrupy juices. Jaggedly probin’ in and out. “Is this how my wife wants it? Does this, mmm- feel good, my love?”
And you hadn’t even realized that your eyes were closed until you’re fluttering them open—looking through tear-filled lashes at the handsome man between your legs. “Y-yessss…deeper, Kento.”
His eyes suddenly clear in urgency.
Mind befogged with lust - but he’s alert enough to recognize your pretty pleas. And without a single second wasted, the slashes of his tongue scour even deeper inwards. With all his slick inches he’s tunneling into your pussy- and your toes curl at the sensation of him driving into spots unknown. “A-and?” He spits, “Is this good?”
He’s just so eager to please. “Nghhh, yes.” Blabbering out, “Just a bit more to the side now, honey.”
Obediently, he cocks his head and angles his kisses. The layers of his lips smush with your delicate pussy, until it was as if he’s stuck there by adhesive - you don’t think he’s pulling away enough to even breathe…and he wouldn’t mind forgoing his own comfort to make sure you’re feeling your best. “Is this good?” The big, bad spy that has all of Tokyo’s underbelly trembling pleads.
“Yes-”
“And what else?”
“Wh-what…?” Stare widening in surprise.
That cute expression of yours - the way your cunt seems to splash! another wad of your slick onto his ready tastebuds - makes him rattle at his chains. As though to break through. As though to ravish you whole.
But the only thing he’s succeeding in doing is letting gravity stoop his face even lower onto your pulsating pussy. Every throb was just so delicous—and Nanami swears he’s feeling his own heartbeat synchronize with the rapid cadence of it. “What else do you need from your husband? Do you need more tongue?”
Just then, you’re feeling the ridged texture of his tastebuds start drilling even deeper. That cutely pink tip of his tongue starts bludgeoning inside as though reaching for your very cervix.
And he’s hatching out something- something almost delirious. “Do you need it sloppier? Because I can- mmm, do sloppier.” The cacophonous noise from beneath your swollen folds starts growing in both pitch and volume as he increases his speed, thick, ribbony strings of slick coating the edges of his mouth - “I can make it faster. Slower. Sexier.”
You’re straining your hamstrings to push off the springy mattress, “P-please—”
“I can eat you out like a husband should.”
Munch-munching away at everything your pussy had to offer. Everything and anything.
He’s jostling his body so painfully close to yours- skin against skin. Lips against lips. Without the gesticulation of his hands to balance himself, it was rare that he’d find a moment to push up and part from your pussy - and whenever he did, it just meant he wasn’t doing his job well enough.
Nanami chases after even the slightest movements of your restless hips. And there’s a slight crack emanating from his metal handcuffs when the straight top of his nose taps your throbbing clit.
“Tell me, my wife—tell me what you want.”
It feels like you’re being struck by shards of lighting itself, “J-just like that, Kento-”
“Just like that? Or even more- hah.” He pants out in a raspy wheeze. Nanami’s voice was low- lower than you can ever recall it being. “Don’t hafta lie to me, darling. Your husband can give you aaaaanything and everything.”
A shallow moan cracks at the back of your throat by the way he’s emphasizing his words- notably by reeling his thick tongue out and drag-drag-draaaagging it all across the forefront of your cunt. “Th-then…ngh, I want whatever it is that you want, Kento.”
His golden brows shoot up to his hairline, “What’s- hck! that, my love?”
And in a split-second - perhaps it’s your assassin side coming out, perhaps it’s the aphrodisiac that’s dialing every emotion up to the max - you’re grabbing a searing hold of Nanami’s pale tresses. A proper fistful that lets you jerk the strong man off of your cunt and gazing his glistening peripherals up at you.
He’s drawing his mouth away with a wet plop! The jutted-out edge of his lower lip trembles at the thought of not being in contact with your tasty cunt, and you have to tap the side of Nanami’s face to get him to fully focus his attention on you.
It takes a little while for his lava-like eyes to peer up at you. “Y-yes, my wife…?”
Chuckling just a bit at the way he’s lost his train of thought - perhaps every thought he’s ever conjured up once he’s tasting your cunt. “What do you want, Kento? Tell me what you’d like…tha’s gonna please me the most.”
“But I beg to-”
“I know you want it.” And he didn’t forget about those ruthless heels of yours, did he? The broad frame of Nanami Kento shudders at the pointed sensation of your heels gliding up his open thighs. Trouser-covered and cum-drenched, you’re feeling for the bumpy area where his fat cock throbbed- and crushing down on it with the flats of your shoe. “This thing doesn’t lie to me, honey. Just tell me what the little spy wants.”
“I…fuck, this is embarrasing- this is so ungentlemanly-” But that was a ship long sailed. And he finds himself drooping even further into the heavenly in-betweens of your legs.
And you’re witnessing the veins on his beefy forearms pop out, the skin of his forehead perspiring- and it almost feels to you as if the blond man was holding himself back at this very moment. A shiver runs through you as you wonder just what him giving his all would mean for you…
And his swollen mouth cracks open, “Please…” And it’s not you that’s starting to beg…it’s Nanami himself. Deep and guttural wrenched out from his voicebox, he sends rumbles across your body like thunder. “Please push me even d-deeper into your cunt.” Nuzzlin’ your clit with his nose, he murmurs. “Push me so far deep- ride my tongue- use me until my mouth’s raw and I can’t even breathe.”
And you know you’re the one that asked him…but you can’t help but let your jaw hang speechlessly.
“I need you to make you c-cum on my tongue five times before I can call myself your husband.”
The answer takes some time to choke out, and when it finally does you’re feeling embarrassed at the slightly pitchy tone it takes. “Then do it.” With his sweaty strands plastered to your palm, and your heel being used to steady yourself—and push down on his convulsing cock. You give him no warning before pushing him down deeper.
He sputters-
“I’m going to ride your face now, Kento.” And you’re shocked by your ability to keep your words from slurrin’ together now. “Do it- do everything it is that you want to do. But no pulling back to breathe. No cumming until I do.”
And he’s peering up at you with the most loving half-lidded eyes, “Yes, my wife.”
That man was a goner for his wife—you.
“Hngh—mmm- K-Kento!” It’s just about the only thing your spit-drivelled lips can echo right now. The sound travels across the room before bouncin’ into Nanami’s eardrums, and he swears it’s the most beautiful sound he’s heard. Because in a sultry split-second, he’s loosening his body up and letting you pin his face between your legs.
Then veering your hips upwards and upwards.
Frenzied, squelching movements of your hips. Your body was just crashing into his in the most sinful collision, and it was making the skin of his high cheekbones start to redden and sting- Nanami barely has the time to part his lips and take in an inhale—
Before your sopping pussylips are plastering to his mouth once more. And he’s lappin’ his tongue away wilding onto every inch he could reach - all around the hidden crevices of your cunt, before entering through your tight hole.
Nanami’s muscle was just so thick that he made you keen with the intrusion of his tastebuds. Feeling up the hugging walls of your channel, before you’re swearing he’s reaching for that one spot that made your eyes roll.
“Shit-” You’re babbling out, hands shaking where you held him down. “Sh-shiiiiiit, just like that. Does that feel good for you too, baby?”
He’s feeling the flaps of his lips start to swell and his lungs ache for breath- “Yes.” He’s never answered anything truer in his life - and it wasn’t just the aphrodisiac, though it did only seem to be getting stronger by the second. “Fuck—yes, and d-don’t keep doing that with your heel or m’gonna cum.”
“What?” You ask innocently - fully knowing the ministrations you were carrying out beneath your line of sight and his. Your heel was flattened over his massive bulge and smoothing up and down, up and down, up and down—practically jerking Nanami off though more with the pressure you were pitting against him.
The nib of your heel grazes his mushroomy tip and he bucks- “M’gonna cum, my love…”
Almost in agony.
You smile as you reply, “Me too.” Before leaning down just the slightest inch in proximity of him - as though sharing a secret between just the two of you in this world. “But that’s only one of five.”
He grunts.
Fuck- he didn’t want to disappoint his beautiful wife. He can’t. He couldn’t.
And as though crazed, Nanami’s flickering the inches of his tongue through and through that dripping entrance of yours. In and out. Stirrin’ around his lengthy muscle in juuuust the way he knew would hit those pretty orifices that made you cry out so loud, Nanami’s focusing on your g-spot for a few seconds at a time to make sure you’re experiencing as much pleasure as possible with every thrust.
Through it all, his nose remains pressed up against your throbbing clit. “One down, four to go.”
“What do you…” Your toes curl then—because Nanami had predicted it before you had. With a sudden flash behind your eyes, you’re crashing into one wave of pleasure after the other - starting up from the pleasure-riddled area between your legs and climbing up into every cranny of your body afterwards.
Your arms go limp. Your back arches perfectly.
“Sh-shiiiiiit- that feels so good.” Your head tilts backwards as the sudden euphoria overtakes you, and your heartbeat only seems to accelerate by twofold after you take a look down at Nanami himself.
His eyes were rolling to the depths of his skull, until only the whites of them were visible. His mouth was agape and his body was almost moving on autopilot—pure carnal instinct simply lappin’ and lappin’ away at your cunt - sending sparks roaring through your body every time his dexterous nose struck your clit. His cock was twitching away furiously beneath your long heels.
And you’re quite sure that Nanami himself was on the verge of an orgasm- “Don’t cum.” You’re pressing down on his cock.
He jolts ever-so-slightly - though his movements don’t falter for a single second. And he was slightly muffled from his…position, though you do manage to make out a scoff. “Who did you think I was?” Nanami responds in a gravelly tone, “M’your husband, darling. And a husband is always supposed to keep his vows.”
You don’t mention that you technically didn’t have a ceremony with vows and everything.
Because in the next mere moments, Nanami has his tongue thrusted back inside and his chin glued to the bottom of your wet slit. No matter how much you’re bucking and moaning, he’s determined to accomplish that little wish you—he had had.
And with the textured swabs of his tongue, he’s pulling out one more orgasm. Two more. Three more-
You think you’ve lost count by the time you’re all sprawled out and spent on the bed. Throwing your head back, letting your heels hook onto his shoulders and tug him even closer - you’re all but begging for mercy as dopamine leaves stars bursting behind your eyelids.
Your cunt was just so heated and raw at this point - though the aphrodisiac kept your slippery slick coming until it was drenchin’ Nanami all the way down to his collarbones.
His invisible dusting of blond on top of his upper lip glistens with the sap that clings onto it, and Nanami peers up at you with hollow, drunken eyes finally. “How many was that, my love?”
Would he believe it if you said you didn’t fucking know—
Apparently you didn’t have to remain wondering, because those words are leaving your lips mindlessly. They take a few seconds to penetrate Nanami’s own foggy mind- but with something akin to a crooked grin, he raises his head. “S’that so?”
You’re shivering once he pulls his tongue out and presses a loud peck on top of your cunt.
“My poor, poor wife—did your husband go too hard?” And you’re not sure what’s in his intense gaze that makes you gesture out a single nod - an embarrassing nod. But you’re doing so anyway, and you hiss when he presses a final kiss and raises himself up onto his haunches. “But I have kept my end of the deal, darling. Didn’t your husband make you proud?”
“Y-yes—”
“Didn’t your husband make you cum?”
“Yes-”
“Not five times, yet.” And through sheer will and the use of his incredible core strength, the trained spy stands up without breaking a sweat. “There’s one more to go…”
“Oh- let me.” Using whatever strength hasn’t been wrung out of you from the marathon of your highs - barely worrying about your refractory period - you’re surging upwards and reaching behind him. Those handcuffs you’d put him in were professional-grade and used on the job sometimes, nothing like the kinky toys that one might normally prefer.
Though this wasn’t initially supposed to be play at all.
And perhaps it’s the aphrodisiac that’s clouding your judgement- you know you can’t keep blaming it any longer when…But you’re soon looking around the room for the key that you’d dropped.
You think you had a spare in the bedside cabinet but you couldn’t be too sure- but then again, the original must have fallen somewhere on the carpet during the height of your nervous excitement—
“Looking for the key, mm?” Nanami’s deep croon jolts you out of your single-minded mission. And you somewhat jolt as you look up at his impressive height; his handsome face.
Your cunt had pooled slick right down to his clothes- the collar of it noticeably darker than the rest of the fabric, with his buttons shining as though polished a thousand times over. And his trousers were just as ruined.
Blond hair completely unruly now. Pupils blown-out through his glasses.
His lips were all reddened n’ puffy with the prolonged contact with the sweetest dessert he’s ever tasted: you. And he’s wearing your slathered layers of slick like a medal of honor, glistening proudly across his mouth and jawline—evidence of his desperation. He husks, “No need to worry yourself, my sweet wife.” Just then, he’s straining his forearms to pull at the handcuffs with brute force - one vein on his forehead popping, skin flushing an even deeper red.
You don’t think he’s going to do it - no one’s ever escaped you when you used those.
But suddenly there’s a screech of metal and a clink!
Before Nanami Kento’s rubbing at the slight bite of metal upon either of his wrists. His free wrists. His unrestrained wrists.
His unrestrained hunger as he then looms his chiselled body above yours- as you push yourself further and further up to the headboard, Nanami follows. He follows. He follows. He follows until your back hits the wooden panel connected to the wall, and those half-lidded eyes bore down upon you deliciously.
“Can we consummate our marriage now, my love?”
Your words could not be more sheerly needy- “Yes.”
And soon enough you’re helping Nanami out of his button-up, his vest, his trousers. Only his boxers stand in the way now and you’re just impatiently tugging them down—finding your jaw dropping at the sight of him.
Because Nanami was big as far as you’d felt.
But this was…what was that saying about it always being the quiet ones? Nanami’s length laid thick and throbbing between his milky legs; the tip of his shaft flushed an angry red, he’s leaking hot precum in lines down your inner thighs.
Dribbling out from the heavy volumes of his ballsack, and ending up coating his cherry tip in a cute white.
In the saturated air, his cock twitches upwards a few times. Makin’ stray beads gliiiiide along the vein-covered length of his shaft- down and doooooown to soak into his burnt golden curls at the very base. The entire image was just so sexy that you can’t help but let out a moan—
And Nanami chuckles before he turns his tender lovin’ eyes towards you. “Don’t worry. You’re next, darling.”
Your clothes are shed at an even faster rate.
Soon enough, it’s just him sandwichin’ his bulbous tip between your folds. Too big to immediately slide into your cunt, too covered in so many wads of your slick - slippery with your own sap - that he occasionally eases inside and makes you yelp at the stretch. “It just feels so- fuck, I just know s’gonna feel so good.” Your hands claw down Nanami’s broad back, “I need you, Kento. Badly.”
“How badly?” He crouches over you, lips centimeters from yours. “I need to make sure you’re not jus’ talking out of your pussy, my wife.”
“I’m not—” You promise. “I need you- fuck, I need you.”
“Need me to what, however?” Nanami cocks his head and almost meanly asks- he never knew he could make you sputter so much. It was just so fun watching your pretty mouth fall slightly apart as you registered his teasing—it almost made him want to spit between your lips.
He does.
And Nanami continues shoving his expanding erection just between your thighs, “Do you need me to take this pretty pussy like it’s our wedding night? Do you need me to m-make love to this pretty pussy like we’ve been married for years? What is it…?”
You’re mouthing something that his popped eardrums don’t hear.
Leaning in, “What’s that, darling?”
And so you’re repeating - just a little louder than before. “I n-need you to fuck me like you’re trying to prove you’re my husband.”
Just like before.
And that seems to flip a switch in the stern, stoic Nanami Kento.
Just a little.
Because the next time you’re blinking your teary eyes open- it’s to see the harrowed furrow between his brows as Nanami reels his hips back n’ positions his largely flared tip between your legs. Right where he needs to be.
And then he push-pushes inside—
“Fuck-” He spits- strong hand darting out to grip the headboard. You hear it splinter—“Fuck.”
“Please…” Looking up, you’re letting out a soft gasp at the way the muscles on his arm bulge and make themselves clear next to you. The sheer strength. The sheer pressure. The sheer streeeetch between your legs that you’re being fed inch by solid inch.
It’s almost too much - so much more than you ever thought possible to take in one go. Your throat feels clogged with saliva and Nanami’s sheer size as his cockhead thoroughly pierces your channel.
Smearin’ your gluey walls to either side of him, he enters you slowly yet mercilessly. More and more.
Your head falls back against the plush pillow directly beneath you-
“Now now- stay with me, darling.” Nanami’s strict sentence was less of a command and more of a sweet willing for you to open your eyes once more—to let him see those pretty, heart-shaped peripherals as he fucked you long and sweet.
He was burrowed just about halfway in at this point and starting to thrust.
It didn’t matter if he wasn’t completely drenched in your sweetest caverns yet, as long as your thighs were quivering with the utmost pleasure.
And Nanami collapses his rock-hard, chiselled front on top of your body - almost crushing you under the weight of him. Though you admit that the pressure was one so pleasurable that it sends zaps of electricity shooting to your toes—oh, did you mention that he’d kept your heels on, still?
And right now he was hooking his right set of fingers underneath your thigh, pressing your capped knees all the way up to your tits.
You’re mooooaning at the burning stretch of your hamstrings.
And he’s letting you ease into it for a few more moments before throwing both legs over each side of his shoulders. Wet with perspiration, you’re letting your heeled feet slide down his hard muscles before finally managing to loop them around your neck.
“This is a mating press- yeah.” He whispers, “D’you like this, my wife?”
Nodding fervently.
Leaning down to lick off the salty-sweet tears that were streaming down your cheeks, “Good girl.” The nickname slips between Nanami’s pussydrunken mouth before he can stop himself. And when he feels the huggin’ entrance of your cunt grow even wetter at the sound of it…oh.
The tips of his digits damn-near tremble with excitement as the blond-haired man plucks a pillow from one of the many you were laying against. Fluffing it up. Promptly placing it underneath the base of your spine, just where that curve was supposed to start, and raising your hips just a little.
That change of angle made the thump-thump-thumping tip of his cock just slightly press against the roof of your cunt, and you whine. “Sh-shit…”
“D’you know what that’s for, my love?”
“Huh?” You respond hazily, and he gestures towards the pillow. Just so gone- on his cock, on the aphrodisiac, on the primal instincts on the verge of screaming at him to shove even deeper. “Um…”
Nanami leans in and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, “That’s alright. I’ll teach you later, my love. For now…”
For now, what was that you’d begged for earlier?
Ah…
For now, he was going to fuck you like a loving husband fucks his beloved, beloved wife.
And he was going to prove it to this pussy that he was your husband—is. There were no two ways of going about it- Nanami’s leaning his toned torso backwards and suddenly rammin’ into you with all his strength.
He doesn’t stop until he’s sure he can hear the damn thwack! of his mazin’ tip reaching for your deepest depths. The sensation of your cervix was just so smoooooth and spongy, and it takes you longer than it should’ve to realize that the notorious man had just bottomed out on your tight, tight pussy.
You’re keening at the way your folds can do nothing but quiver n’ take and take. Gulping down those greedy inches that he was funneling over and over again into you—the scruff of his tawny happy trail scrapes your sensitive pussylips and you buck-
“And don’t think that you can run away.” He was amused.
For every millimeter that you were arching off of the mattress due to oversensitivity, Nanami was making up for it with yet another two rugged slams of his hips. He just loved that surprised expression upon your face when you found yourself being dragged right back, being manhandled, with a mere tug of his trained physique.
One hand on the right side of your waist.
One hand bracing his gluttonous base.
He furrows his brows and tightens his jaw as he haaaaauls you right back down- and soon enough, you’re finding that perhaps - perhaps - you’re shifting yourself away just to have him do it all over again.
And he indulges you, of course. Spearing between your glossed-up pussylips from tip to bottom end.
Fat inches that were making themselves at home.
Eventually, Nanami’s hungry gaze pins you down- first. Before the rest of his Herculean sculptured body chooses to rest further on top of you n’ glue your skin, your hips, to his own—preventing you from moving just a centimeter further than he wanted you to. Preventing you from shifting his determined cock around. He’s practically melding your bodies into one—he almost wishes he could.
Before Nanami had finally scoured ‘round your insides and located your g-spot. And he couldn’t have you moving around when his entire mission was to make you numb with pleasure, could he?
The heat between you two crackles in the air, and Nanami fucks you slow and shallow with his flared red tip. Rovering over that one spot-
“O-oh my god, oh my god, Kento—” Words slurring into one. Nearly indiscernible.
And through your tears, you’re making out Nanami’s lips pursing into something gentle. “Shhhhh…” The breeze of his scorching pants waft over you, dialing your own body temperature up into something insatiable. Aphrodisiac or…no, just the two of you. “You’ve got this, my love- fuck, you’ve got this.”
“I…” Eyes scrunching shut. “N-never felt anything like this before, honey.”
“You can take it.”
“I am- I am-”
The way his thrusts were probin’ into you was just indescribable- though Nanami Kento might have been a gentleman to everyone that ever encountered him - and yes, you suppose that even included the targets for his missions - you were briefed and trained to see him as the complete opposite.
Unlike most, you knew Nanami Kento as the agent…the danger…the target for your own mission.
But his cock was drilling into you over and over in sharp, rapid thrusts and you’re thinking that perhaps you hadn’t been so correct about him after all…
Calculated thrusts.
Nanami was making sure that you were wringing out the maximum amount of pleasure from each one of them. Not wasting time between smooching the door to your womb—thud-thud-thud. And between reeling his hips all the way back until your cunt was wet and gaping around where the circumference of his tip was the fattest. The neediest. Red-hot.
And then he’d be sliiiiiiding one of his most prominent veins down the middle along the most tender of your nerves. Kissing it.
Making white-hot bliss burst through your body as he’s managing to hit eeeevery single fucking orifice that made you swoon. Those large arms of his cage you safely, and Nanami already knows by now that you’re drunk on his hips. “Feels good, yeah?” He asks you-
And you almost have the heart to respond with something feisty—well, obviously. But the sincerity in his eyes makes you prattle out, “Feels s-soooo good. Didn’t even know that it could feel this good…”
He smiles proudly, “Yeah? Oh yeah—” Patting your sensitive clit with his abdomen, “And how’s the- haaaaaah, fuuuck, keep squeezing me like that- How’s the speed, my love?”
“P-perfect…” Cockdrunken. Bed creaking.
But Nanami merely nods and licks at the walloping amounts of saliva pouring from one end of your mouth and onto the silken covers of the pillows. “Mhmmmmm…and what else? How’s the angle?”
Your eyes damn-near bulge out of your skull. “The- angle—oh.” Just then, he’s adjusting his hips just the slightest few degrees so that his bludgeoning cock would hit a fresh new target tilted slightly upwards to the roof of your cut. And you’re practically yowling out, “That one- ngh, that’s the one.” Nails possessively claiming his back with countless scratches and indentations of your nails, “P-pleeeeease keep that one, Kento.”
“Like it that much, huh?” He hums to himself, “But of course, m’not gonna change it when s’my wife’s favorite.”
In a small thank-you, you’re craning your head up and attempting to kiss him.
He meets your lips halfway, but don’t think that that’s the only thing his vicious hips could do.
“Now now, don’t tap out…” Nanami grunts n’ shudders to himself—he has to gnaw down on the plushness of his bottom lip to compose himself at least somewhat. “And how about the feeling of my balls- hah- feel how biiiiiig and heavy they are, just for you?”
Struck and feeling his cadence accelerating, you can only nod and nod.
“Feel how rock-hard I am for you?”
Nodding.
“Feel the way I- fuck, the way m’only getting harder?”
Nodding.
“Feel the way your g-spot just throbs whenever I’m near?” His crowned and hungry tip pauses just to prove his point, and you’re dragging your nails down his biceps with a disappointed whine. A call to continue if there was any.
To which he does.
Harder than before- pap-pap-papping—! the front of his hips against yours.
“And feel the way m’pumping out so much- fuck- precum?” Just then - as if on fucking cue - you’re feeling a wet draaaaag of his pre being pushed deeper inside you. Pooling on layers on top of your cervix n’ swirling around every time you’re being moved, “Shit, m’gonna make a mess again. See what you do to me?”
“I do-”
Nanami scoffs, “You know I’d do anything to make you feel good, my love.” Boring those golden eyes into yours- yes, they looked damn golden in this lighting and in the hazy state of your mind. “Anything-”
One of his thick hands scrape down your front- they were the hands of someone that’s trained and worked and fought to get to where he is today. And you’re shivering at the slight callouses that massage you—
Your husband continues, “Never think that you’re- hah, any less loveable- desirable, because of anyone or anything before.” And despite the fact that you two were connected on levels, physical ones, that were the farthest they could go…it still feels the most intimate once he rests his clammy forehead onto yours and whispers. “Because I’m here- fuck.”
Toes curling atop his shoulders - doesn’t matter how much you’re thrashing them out of sheer pleasure at the stretch, he’s taking every bruise head-on. “Yes, yes, yes—mmm, yes…fuck, it shouldn’t feel this good- ngh, legally it shouldn’t feel this good.”
“When have we ever cared about the legal labels?”
Those pearly whites of his gnaw down on your lips n’ drag you into a kiss.
He utters, “Because your Kento’s here.”
Whimpering up at him when all the constant kissin’ at your g-spot almost gets too much to bear. So overstimulated. “A-and why do you say that, Kento?”
He could coo at the cute way you’re asking that question.
With your legs shakily squeezing around his neck, with your lips trembling and threatening to escape a sob. The way your cunt swallowed him up and dragged him to the very depths of your cunt was almost dizzying for him to feel—and he knows his balls were thwacking so hot and headily against the forefront of your cunt. He knows he’s close.
He knows the patterns of his zig-zagging veins were outlining themselves upon either side of your walls- he could feel it.
He knows that these were the pearly gates of heaven themselves. Opened right with your legs.
And Nanami has to force himself to not fucking throw his head back with a thunderous groan—more to hear your sweet, sweet noises than anything. And instead, he nuzzles his sweaty face into the crook of your neck and lets out looooow, trundling whispers. “You’re s-seriously asking me that, my love? Don’t mock me-”
“I’m not-”
“Because the answer should be obvious.” And this is the first and only time that the Nanami Kento would interrupt you on any matter. “S’because I’m fucking made for you, aren’t I?”
And with that being said, it seems his cadence is only growing faster. Harder. Hittin’ your lower half at what, to you, almost feels like the speed of light - his blushin’ tip only grows bigger and concrete-hard as he keeps jutting into the crevices of your cervix.
Running the lines of his veiny shaft down your channel all the while—
Soon enough: your pulsing clit finds home between Nanami’s thumb and index finger.
On his left hand.
Which meant the stark frigidness of his wedding ring was making your body thrust itself into the throes of pleasure - not quite cumming, though considering just how overstimulated you were, you wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up shattering all over him without any warning. Instead, you’re finding your mouth babbling away whatever stupid concoction of words was entering your mind- “A-and how can you say that-”
“That’s because I’m your husband.” He kisses your forehead softly once more, “Forget all those other boys and whoever that came- hah, before me, darling. They’ve never yearned—ached, prayed for this pussy like I have…”
A disbelieving laugh bubbles up at your throat, “Y-yearned—? K-Kento, you can’t be serious.”
His dazed eyes widen, mouth stupidly agape. “Dead fucking serious.”
What’s the word to describe him…enamored? In…love? Pussy-whipped? But in all the best ways.
And he himself didn’t sound like he could compute the words that were falling from his mouth. Escaping, more like. He tut-tuts, “My wife…I fear I don’t even- haaaah, know who I am without this pussy. She’s all I’ve been thinking about these past few days. She’s all I’ve been…hungry for. She’s all I’ve been- fuck, needing to make myself run to the b-bathroom and jerk myself off until I see stars—”
“S-stars-” Repeating breathlessly to yourself. Such words from him of all people…especially when it pertained to you…you just couldn’t believe it.
“Making you feel good as your husband is my only goal, my love.” And he means it so earnestly- from anyone else you would have scoffed and rolled your eyes. But Nanami’s staring into your widely-blown peripherals as though he was exposing every shred and fissure in his soul.
He rolls his thumb over the nub of your clit.
Your voicebox raggedly wrenches out, “All this time you’ve…”
And fuck- he’s so far gone that he can’t hold back the fucking lewd grin as he admits—
“All this time-” Planting one chaste peck on your forehead while he fucks you, “-your husband has been-” Then another one on your right cheek, “-a damn pervert waiting for you to catch him.” In more ways than one. And then a final one on your left cheek.
He pulls away and admires you.
“And how does that make you feel, my wife?”
“It m-makes me feel…” Spit drivels from the leaky orifice of your mouth along with a few whining pleas here and there. And before Nanami’s lust-hazed brain can begin to compute it, you’re reaching outwards and grabbing ahold of yet another fistful of his hair.
Dragging him towards you with a persistent few tugs.
Surprise and arousal flash across his face and steep into his already-agonized expression once you pull him close enough.
You enunciate up at him, “It makes me feel like m’gonna cum, soon…” Eyes flapping shut, chest arching up into his firmly-toned one. You hiccup, “-my husband.”
His hips stutter sloppily.
But you weren’t done just yet—“A-and I know you’re close, too.” Gaze flickering down to the briefest flash of his bulbous, red tip as he pulls out- only to be shoved between your pussylips once more. Again and again. “I want you to not hold back, Kento. No matter how hard it is- ngh, don’t hold back on me.”
He repeats, breathlessly. “Don’t hold back…don’t…” Nodding and nodding.
And then you’re watching the line of his vision sharply stray to something above your head-
To the discarded fabric of his favorite tie.
And do you know how many times spies have been trained to get out of and create restraints? You don’t think it takes Nanami even two heartbeats to swipe the tie somewhere from the headboard and reach behind you to loop around your wrists.
Pinning them together.
Tying them blindly.
Tugging you to him with a flex of his muscles.
You’re being manhandled like so through a few slammin’ stripes down on the innermost layer of your pussy- he seemed to be reaching even deeper with this slight change in position.
“Please-” You can’t catch your breath fast enough—and the sheer sensation of Nanami throwin’ you around like a ragdoll whilst he fucked you like an absolute gentleman was enough to make you stutter out in just a few more moments- “P-please…Kento, m’gonna cum-”
Smack! The skin of his pelvis practically glues against yours. “Cum on your husband’s cock, my dear.”
And with the most sinful, squelching sound of your thighs tightening around his waist- you’re cumming. The fifth time tonight; it sears through every vessel in your body stronger and faster than you remember any previous orgasm being.
A buzzing electricity- turned zapping.
Curdling at the pit of your stomach and making you arch up into Nanami as many times as your limbs could weakly carry you…
Your heels claw ravaged marks down his shoulders, “C-cumming-” Babbling out as stars of pleasure formulate and burst behind your eyes, “Kento—fuck. Fuck, Kento, it feels so good—”
“Fuck.” He grunts himself.
Entire body shaking as the wave of euphoria roars over you.
Flashing and overstimulated.
Then you’re peering up at him with tear-filled eyes, “Kento, I want you to cum, too-”
And that’s when it hits him.
Almost as if his body had been waiting for permission from you this entire time, as though he’d react to you above anything or anyone else. Orders. Though they were ones that his brain would gladly follow- Nanami throws his head back just a little and stammers his hips.
The round curve of his tip plasterin’ against your sweet, spongy cervix and holding there for a few seconds—before he, too, ends up giving into his pleasure.
Making you cum five times and this was the first time he’s cumming inside.
Brows knitting, his strong jaw drops ever-so-slightly ajar as he feels a sensation like never before. No matter how much of his creamy white cum he’s emptying out- your cushy walls were sucking him up for more, more, more…“Sh-shit—you don’t know what you do to me.” And with that said, he’s raising his knee up and setting it where the pillow underneath your hips was, “I think you a-already know what this pillow is for, hm?”
Nodding, “I do I do-” You could’ve guessed either way.
Especially by the way the spurs of his cum were barreling inside- being fucked deep inside. Deep inside. And because of the positioning of your hips, no matter how much you jostle or buck, his hot wads remain webbin’ up every orifice inside.
Glued to your cervix like adhesive.
The pillow only helped if you wanted to…expand the family.
Another toe-curling burst of pleasure runs through him at the mere thought of it, and Nanami turns his head to kiss the pretty side of your calf. Legs still limply wrapped around his head.
He hums, “And does this go against your mission, my assassin?”
You’re shaking your head.
Quite frankly, the only other thing you can think to do is to tug him closer with your lower half.
Nanami’s shaft was thick and throbbing—burnished red at the top and polished with so many layers of cum. Hot puddles of it. He was making sure not to waste a single - not even a single - drop of it as he emptied out inside, though the sheer force of his thrusts did end up frothing some of his powdery-white cum between your trembling legs. So full that you were leaking from your hole.
He spits down on your stuffed pussy, fingers twiddling on your clit. “Then how about trying to kill me by milking me dry next?”
His heavy balls clench.
Your jaw drops.
And it really wasn’t just the aphrodisiac.
You are the one that won’t be making it out of this alive.
.
.
.
“—no…no, it’s not for a lack of resources. No- no one’s threatening me.” Speaking sharply into the receiver of the payphone, the crackle of your elders echoes in your ears. You’re sure that you’re sending the Garden headquarters into an uproar by this point—you’re sure that everyone’s gotten the word.
The Phantom is quitting her line of work.
And though you suppose it wasn’t necessarily against policy to finally quit being an assassin, you just don’t think anyone would have bet that you’d be the next.
And in the booth next to you was Nanami Kento, on the phone with his own higher-ups.
You’re eyeing the handsome man through the translucent screen of plastic in-between, and he’s catching your eyes and shooting you a reassuring smile. He seemed to be having a much easier time with whoever was on his end, meanwhile you…Scoffing at the next accusation they throw out, “No, I’m not drugged or coerced or going to trade secrets with anyone-”
Another higher-up bellows something.
“Look, I’m going to post you my resignation letter and that is that. I just wanted to tell you all personally- think of it as my last duty to you.” And with a sigh you’re beginning to push away from the receiver, “Don’t contact me again, kindly. Or you can—send assassins after me for all you care, we both know how that’s going to go down.”
The phone gets sternly put back in its place.
And you know that they won’t try to mess with you.
You know that.
They didn’t call you The Phantom for nothing - your presence still haunted the Garden when you weren’t there. As you’re making your way out of the booth, you’re realizing that your husband had wrapped up his call and was waiting for you outside.
Hands in his coat pockets. Fingers inching automatically towards yours once you’re outside.
He’d been nagging at you on getting a warmer covering layer recently, and Nanami doesn’t hesitate to shrug off his own jacket and insist upon you wearing it. Though he wasn’t a very loud man, his affection was practically palpable.
And you’re almost feeling shy walking down the street in what was obviously his coat, whilst he stuffed your joined hands into the pocket of your coat - one that he was now wearing.
Eventually, you ask. “I assume your call went well, Kento?”
He sighs something half-fond, “Yeah…” And though it was true that both of you had been wanting out from these careers for some time now, it was still a wistful affair.
It was just last week that Nanami had filed in his report on the Zenin family; revealing some corrupt ties and nonsensical numbers in their business that’d been blown across every news station, magazine, and forum you could think of in the past few days. Zenin Naobito had been arrested, of course, transferring the title of heir to none other than Fushiguro Megumi, your son’s best friend. And though the two of you weren’t working for your organizations anymore, you’d both promised to keep a firm eye on the boy to make sure that he wasn’t being pressured or made to live older than his age anytime soon.
You’re squeezing Nanami’s hand softly, and he looks at you with a smile. Continuing where he’d left off, “They were hesitant, but I think they understood. I think they saw - even before I did - that this was a long time coming.”
“They let you go that easily?”
“Yeah.” He closes his eyes and exhales deeply, “I’m free.”
And you’re doing the same.
You’re both free.
Once you’re opening your eyes, it’s to look at the other side of Shibuya Crossing - where Itadori and his two familiar best friends were standing and waving at the two of you. Furiously. They laughed and bickered about who was waving the hardest. “So romantic—!” You think you hear Kugisaki squeal even from here.
You chuckle as you wait for the light to turn green.
Looking up at the blue, blue sky. “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
A/N. No idea how this got so long erm- also Happy Avurudu to anyone that celebrates!!
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