Hello everyone who visits my posts or blog in general!
You can call me 8,5! I am 23 years old, full time colloge student -even in summer, yes- here to enjoy, reading and a little writing & sharing. You might find JJK reblogs and my own funfiction nsfw stories in my page, centered on my man Nanami Kento.
I am not native English speaker, I might make gramer mistakes, wrong vocabulary choices, rational errors in my stories. I will be writing what is in my mind.
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Masterlist (1 story yet)
Ovulating on Vacation // Nanami Kento Funfiction (Part 1 & 2) You are on vacation with your family, and your cycle is on top. Boyfriend Kento, soon to be husband, is taking care of your needs. #smut
(Part 3 & 4) While you are on action, Satoru wakes up and disturbs you.
Moving in with Nanami Kento You moved your life in a different place. New university, new work, new friends. And need an apartment but where and with who? It appears you are about to be Nanami Kento's neighbor, but instead you end up with being his roommate instead. #fluff
(teen!)nanami worries about you (1,015 words) by kunasmoochies đ
As you open the door to your dorm, Nanami's eyes start flickering between you and the clock on the desk. It's close to 10:30 at night. You're not surprised to see Shoko sitting up, finally awake from her nap; but across from her is none other than Nanami himself. You try not to look guilty as you close the door with your foot, sliding out of your slip ons.
You have two sodas, your phone (with the flashlight still on), your keys and a fast food bag in your grip.
"Where were you?" Nanami asks plainly. You look between him and Shoko.
"Um. Hello to you too, nice to see you in my dorm... I went for a walk, stopped to get some food." You say, locking the door and turning the overhead light on.
"At this time of night? And by yourself?" Nanami's heart is at the top of his throat now. He hates the idea of you taking these night walks by yourself; unsure if he would hate the idea of you going on them with someone else more.
"Well.. Shoko knows I go on these walks quite frequently!" You say, trying to shuffle some of the blame onto your friend, who takes the soda you pass to her. The truth is that you stopped asking Shoko; because she always declined them and you knew she was tired from her daily schedule. By the time you'd decide to go on a walk Shoko would already be in the bed snoozing. Shoko never complained because she would wake up by the time you got back; and more importantly she figured that you could handle yourself if anything were to happen.
Which.. quite frankly is how you see it. You keep your head on a swivel, and you walk fast. You know how to fight, run, kick and scream- but to be honest you don't think the walk is that far and this area is far too nice for something like that to happen to someone like you.
You don't realize that you say that out loud- but the look on Nanami's face makes you think he's five seconds away from a conniption.
"Are you.. stupid?" Nanami asks, an incredolous look on his face as he sits on the corner of your bed. You stop and let out a laugh of disbelief.
"NoâŚ" you trail off, standing awkwardly. Nanami sighs as he takes your hot phone and turns the flashlight off. "What's the purpose for the flashlight?" he asks.
"It illuminates my way back." You say quickly. "Plus if someone is driving they see the light before they see me."
Nanami lets out a harsh exhale, squeezing his eyes shut and taking a deep breath. "How often are you taking these evening walks?" he asks.
"Maybe once or twice a week. I don't always go the same route, and there are other people out too. If it's that bad I can take the bus if I need to, and if I get scared I can always call Shoko." you trail off as you place the bag of fast food on the nightstand.
"Call Shoko.." Nanami repeats. "If you're scared you can always call Shoko." Nanami shakes his head, running a hand through his blonde strands. He stands up in front of you, his hands on his hips. You reluctantly meet his eyes before he starts to speak again.
"Call me." He says simply.
"Huh?" you reply, sitting still on your bed. You see movement out the corner of your eye, reminding yourself that Shoko is in the room with you. She's been abnormally quiet, watching everything unfold. She hasn't even taken a sip of her soda yet, the fries in the bag getting cold.
"Next time. You call me. If you want to take a walk, go somewhere late at night, call me. I'll come" He says the last part in a softer tone.
"Oh I- I don't want to trouble you" You saw awkwardly, sitting back farther and crossing your legs on the bed.
"You won't. Your safety will never trouble me." Nanami says looking in your eyes.
"Okay" you mutter under your breath. You refuse to acknowledge how charged the moment feels. Not excitement or butterflies.. but a third thing you will not dissect until he is long gone; back in his own dorm under his own comforter for the night.
"Alright now. Can I see what you have in that bag?" Shoko pipes up, her stomach grumbling lightly. You let out a sigh of relief- happy to have her break the tension in the room. Nanami pulls your desk chair out, sitting, still looking at you. You smile lightly as you offer him some of your fries.
â
"I'm serious. Next time call me. I'll come." Nanami says with complete honesty.
"You worry too much" you say to Nanami, refusing to meet his eyes, your hand gripping the door frame.
He cups your jaw with one hand. "You're worth worrying about." He says calmly.
You nod and smile. The vulnerability in this conversation settles behind your rib cage.
"I'm sorry for scaring you." You say, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. It takes a second, but Nanami hugs you back, squeezing you a little.
"Please let me know when you're back in your dorm room." You say to his back. You watch as he walks down the hall some, turning his head around to smile at you. You smile back, and wave; watching him turn the corner. You lock the door behind you, waiting for your heart to settle.
You shuffle further into your dorm room, mindlessly making yourself busy- throwing tissues out and organizing things on your desk. You refuse to think about the night.
You hear Shoko as she turns the overhead light off; getting ready for bed. You open your mouth, ready to ask if she is spending the night in your dorm or making the short trek down the hall back to hers. But Shoko breaks the silence first. "
You know he likes you, right?" Shoko says.
um my first fanfic/drabble thing on here!! lmao hi! i'm nervous about posting this haha. it just a little thing I had on my mind for a while. I have thoughts about making this into a longer fanfic but who knows... lmao pls like/comment/reblog cus im scayurdddd to post my silly fanfics! but thank you for reading if ya did xoxo
also don't repost my stuff anywhere, don't feed my shit to ai, thankyaaa!
áĄŕ§ Fix your route? Nah, Fuck you right. â N. Kento.
áĄŕ§ synopsis: in which nanami is a longtime divorced man but got a very active sex life. and in which a new, bimbo⌠and a very much younger neighbor moves in next to his apartment. worst part is, heâs not able to control himself around you. especially when youâre at his door, asking him to fix your wifi late at this hour.
áĄŕ§ pairing: older!nanami kento x kinda bimbo fem!reader
áĄŕ§ c. warnings: age gap, heavy sexuĂĄl tension, eyefu cking, solo m. mast urbation, nanami is in his 40s and reader is early 20s, belly/tummy bulge, fing ering, did i say heavy se xual tension?, pus sy eating, overstim ulation, squi rting, weak plot/heavy po rn â if thereâs more to tag lmk. w.c: 7.8k+
nanami kento has always kept his life neat and quiet, the kind of man who folds his shirts the same way every morning and times his coffee exactly seven minutes after the water boils. forty years old, divorced once a long time ago, and now he lives alone in the corner apartment on the fourth floor where the hallway light flickers just enough to remind him he should probably call maintenance but never does.
his sex life is the same as everything else he controls, sparse and deliberate. a few times a year he lets himself download one of those bland apps, meets a woman his age in a hotel bar, fucks her slow and polite in the dark so neither of them has to look too closely at the other.
most nights though it is just his own hand in the shower, quick and efficient, eyes closed while he thinks about nothing at all. he likes it that way. clean. no mess. no complications. until you moved in next door three months ago and ruined every single one of those careful rules without even trying.
you showed up on a rainy tuesday with too many cardboard boxes and a laugh that carried through the thin walls like it belonged there.
early twenties, fresh out of whatever college or job that spat you into this building, always in oversized shirts and tiny sleep shorts that rode up the back of your thighs when you bent over to pick up your mail. nanami noticed you the first time he passed you in the hallway, the way you smiled at him like he was just another neighbor instead of a man who suddenly felt every one of those twenty years between you. he told himself it was nothing. just new noise in a building that had been quiet for years. but then the noise became something else.
the soft thump of your music when you cooked dinner, the way your balcony light stayed on late while you scrolled on your phone, the faint vanilla scent that drifted under his door every time you took out the trash. he started catching himself pausing at the peephole when he heard your keys, hating the way his cock twitched at the mere sound of your footsteps. hating it more when he realized he was hard again in the shower that same night, fist wrapped tight around himself while he pictured those sleep shorts pooled around your ankles.
he tried to ignore it at first. threw himself into longer office hours, came home later, kept the volume on his television higher so he would not hear you humming in the shower through the shared wall. it did not work.
every little thing you did chipped at him. the way you waved from your balcony in the mornings wearing nothing but a thin tank top and no bra, nipples stiff from the cool air. the way you asked him once, all sweet and shy, if he knew how to fix a leaking faucet and stood too close while he worked, soft focused grunts leaving is chest and his rolled-up sleeve. after that night he jerked off twice before he could even get his jeans off, coming so hard he had to brace one hand on the shower tile just to stay upright.
he hated how easily you affected him. hated that a girl barely old enough to rent her own apartment could make a man like him, a man who prided himself on control, feel like some desperate teenager again. his sex life used to be something he managed. now it was just quiet frustration and the occasional guilty stroke while he thought about how small you would look under him, how tight you would feel, how pretty you would sound moaning his name.
then came the router. you knocked on his door at nine-thirty one random night, voice small and embarrassed over the phone first, then in person when he opened up still dressed in his white button-up and black jeans.
nanami stands at your doorway with one hand already in his pocket, the other holding the small toolbox he keeps for these exact random neighbor emergencies all ready, and he tells himself for the tenth time that this is nothing. just a quick fix.
your voice is soft and a little embarrassed over heâs not surprised. âsorry to bother you, nanami-san, but my wifi router just died and i have no idea what iâm doing with these things.â he had sighed, told you he would be right over, and now here he is, hating every single second because the moment you open the door he feels it again. that pull. that stupid, inconvenient heat low in his gut that has been creeping up on him since the day you moved in.
you are wearing your famous oversized t-shirt that slips off one shoulder and tiny sleep shorts that ride up when you shift your weight, bare feet on the hardwood, skin glazed with a thin layer of sweat like you had been lounging on the couch all evening.
you smile at him, grateful and a little shy, and nanamiâs jaw tightens. he is forty, a divorced but settled, a man who likes order and quiet and routines that do not include getting half-hard at the sight of his much younger neighborâs collarbones. yet here he is, eyes dragging down the line of your neck before he forces them back up.
âthank you so much for coming,â you say, stepping aside to let him in. your voice is warm, a little breathy from the relief of not having to deal with it alone. the apartment smells faintly of vanilla and whatever takeout you had for dinner.
nanami nods once, polite as always, and follows you toward the corner where the router sits on a low shelf. he can feel the weight of his own body, the clean but lived-in scent of his white button-up clinging slightly to his skin after a long day, black jeans sitting snug on his hips. he is musty in that grown-man way, soap and faint cologne mixed with the faint trace of office air and the walk over, nothing overpowering but undeniably male. he knows it. he hopes you do not notice how it fills the small space between you.
you hover close while he crouches down to look at the router, your thigh brushing his shoulder as you point at the blinking lights. âit just stopped working out of nowhere. i tried restarting it butâŚâ your words trail off when he glances up.
his eyes catch on the way your t-shirt hangs loose, the soft swell of your tits visible at the neckline, the smooth skin of your legs right there at eye level. he should look away yet nanami does not. instead his gaze lingers, slow and heavy, tracing the curve of your hip, the way the hem of those shorts digs into the flesh of your thigh. he feels his cock twitch in his jeans, thickening against the zipper before he can stop it.
fuck.
he shifts his weight, trying to hide the growing bulge, but the movement only makes the fabric pull tighter.
âlet me see,â he mutters, voice lower than he intends, rough around the edges. his fingers work the cables, checking connections, but his mind is not on the router. it is on you. on how you smell like warm skin and faint lotion, on how you keep biting your lip while you watch him, on how easily he could reach out and slide his palm up the back of your thigh.
he has been trying to ignore it for weeks. it takes him back to the way you wave at him from your balcony in the mornings, the sound of your laugh carrying through the thin walls when you are on the phone with friends, the soft thump of your music when you cook.
every little thing has been chipping away at his carefully built restraint. he is older. he should know better. but his body does not care about should.
he stands up slowly, taller than you by a good amount, and when he does his chest brushes your shoulder. you do not step back and the air between you feels thick, charged, and nanamiâs eyes drop again, this time to your mouth, then lower to where your nipples have tightened under the thin shirt.
he swallows hard. his cock is fully hard now, pressing insistently against the front of his black jeans, the outline obvious if you were to look down. he turns slightly, pretending to fiddle with the router settings on his phone, but the movement only highlights the bulge.
he can feel the heat of it, the way it throbs when you lean in closer to see what he is doing, your breath ghosting over his forearm.
âis it the cable?â you ask, voice quieter now, like you have noticed the shift too. your eyes flick to his face, then down, then back up, and nanami sees the faint flush creeping up your neck. good. at least he is not suffering alone. he clears his throat, forcing his attention back to the device, but his free hand flexes at his side, knuckles whitening. he wants to touch you. wants to back you against the wall and slide those tiny shorts down your legs, wants to feel how wet you already are because he can smell it, that sweet faint arousal mixing with your usual scent.
his mind supplies the image without permission: you bent over the couch, his cock buried deep while he grips your hips and fucks the whimpers out of you. he exhales sharply through his nose.
âtry it now,â he says, stepping back just enough to give you space, but not enough to hide anything. the router lights flicker green. you pull out your phone to test the connection and let out a small happy sound that goes straight to his dick.
âit works! oh my god, thank you, nanami-san.â you turn to him fully, eyes bright, and for a second he lets himself look. really look. at the way your chest rises with each breath, at the bare stretch of thigh, at how your lips part when you realize he is staring.
he does not smile. his expression stays bland, almost stern, but his eyes are dark and hungry, eye-fucking you so openly now that there is no pretending. his cock strains harder against the denim, a small wet spot forming where he is leaking, and he makes no move to hide it.
he is half heartedly relieved you do not notice. your gaze still stuck on your phone screen, lashes fluttering, and when you look back up, you read there is something new in his expression, something needy and waiting to be unleashed.
nanamiâs voice comes out rougher than he means. âyou should get a better router. this one is outdated.â it is the most neutral thing he can think of, but it does not matter.
the tension is already there, thick and undeniable, wrapping around both of you in the half-unpacked living room. he can feel his pulse in his cock, the heavy ache of it, the way his balls feel tight just from standing this close to you. he wants to hate how easily you affect him.
he does hate it. but he cannot stop the slow drag of his eyes over your body one more time, imagining exactly how you would look spread open on his bed, taking every inch while he tells you how long he has been fighting this.
you shift on your feet, thighs pressing together, and nanami catches the tiny movement. his jaw clenches. he should leave. he should say goodnight and go back to his quiet apartment and jerk off to the memory like he has done more nights than he cares to admit.
your heartbeat picks up its rate, your finger tips sweaty. you feel the air thickening already, noticing the print of your neighbors dick without even looking down.
âso maybe you could stay and i could make you some teââ your proposal is short lived.
âiâve fixed what youâve called me to help for. goodnight.â his stern voice catches you off guard, watching him collect and grab the toolbox on the floor that was forgotten seconds ago. you try to say something but stay frozen when he pushes past you, his neck veins slightly showing on his skin.
nanami strides out fast. because right now, with his cock hard and obvious and his control fraying at the edges, he is not sure he has the strength to stay in the same room with you.
and so he leaves you standing in the middle of your apartment with your wifi fixed and a pile of notifications âding-ingâ every seconds.
+
a week drags by in thick, unspoken tension that sits heavy between the thin apartment walls like smoke that refuses to clear.
nanami wakes each morning with the same stern resolution burning behind his eyes: keep the distance, lock it down, pretend the night you called him over for the router never happened. he leaves for the office before the sun fully rises, comes home long after the hallway lights have dimmed, and when he passes your door he keeps his gaze fixed on the scuffed floorboards like they hold the answers to every moral question he has been asking himself since he first felt that inconvenient throb in his jeans. but the memory refuses to fade.
it lingers in the shower when hot water runs down his chest and his hand wraps around his cock without permission, stroking slow and frustrated while your freshly known name slips out between gritted teeth like a confession he wishes he could swallow back.
it follows him into bed at night, where he lies stiff on his back and remembers the exact shade of flush that crept up your neck when his eyes dragged too long over your body.
he hates it. hates how easily a girl barely out of her early twenties can unravel the careful, quiet life he has built for himself. he is older, disciplined, a man who values order and restraint above almost everything, yet here he is, reduced to stolen glances through the balcony railing and late-night strokes that leave him emptier than before.
you do not make any of it easier. you still wave at him from across the narrow gap between your balconies in the mornings, soft smile curving your lips like you know exactly what you are doing to him. you leave polite little notes taped to his door about shared packages or the new recycling bins downstairs, your handwriting neat and looping in a way that makes his fingers tighten around the paper every time.
each accidental brush of your fingers when you hand him mail in the hallway sends a spark straight down his spine, and every polite âgood morning, nanami-sanâ you offer chips away at the walls he keeps trying to reinforce. he catches the sound of your laugh through the thin wall sometimes when you are on the phone with people⌠your age, light and warm, and his cock thickens in his slacks before he can stop it.
he tells himself it is nothing. just proximity. just the natural reaction of a man who has been alone too long. but deep down he knows the truth: you have gotten under his skin, and the more he tries to push it away the harder it pulls.
tonight the last thread of his restraint finally frays and snaps.
the familiar knock comes at exactly the time he wishes it to, soft but insistent, cutting through the quiet of his evening like a hook sinking into flesh.
nanami opens the door still dressed from the office, white button-up with the sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows, black jeans sitting low on his hips, the faint musty-clean scent of him drifting out into the hallway, clean and faint cologne and the long day clinging to his skin.
you stand there in another oversized t-shirt that slips off one shoulder and those same tiny sleep shorts that have been haunting him, hair not perfect like you had been caught up in something⌠private, cheeks already carrying that telltale pink flush. itâs as if last week was repeating itself.
âthe router again,â you say, voice small and breathy, but your eyes are not on any imaginary problem. they trace the open collar of his shirt, the broad line of his shoulders, the way his chest fills the doorway. âit keeps dropping signal. i tried everything you showed me last time but⌠i think i need your help again.â
he should tell you no. should suggest you call the building manager in the morning this time and close the door before the air between you thickens any further. instead he exhales slowly through his nose, jaw tight, and reaches for the small toolbox he keeps by the door without saying a word.
he follows you next door, the faint click of the lock behind him sounding louder than it should. the moment you are both inside the living room the atmosphere shifts, warmer and heavier, like the space itself is holding its breath. you lead him to the same corner shelf where the router sits, but this time you do not hover at a polite distance.
you stand close enough that your bare arm brushes his rough skin when he crouches down to look. the lights on the router are steady green. he knows it is working fine the second he glances at it. and most definitely you know it.
the excuse is paper-thin and neither of you bothers to pretend otherwise.
nanami rises slowly, turning to face you fully, his tall frame casting a shadow over you in the soft lamplight. his eyes do the same slow, solemn drag they did the week before, only heavier now, sharpened by seven long days of fighting the memory of your body.
he watches the way your nipples have already tightened under the thin fabric of your shirt, the subtle press of your thighs together like the ache between them is already building. his cock responds immediately, swelling thick and heavy inside his black jeans, the thick ridge becoming obvious as it presses against the denim. heâs sure a faint damp spot is beginning to form, but he does not try to hide it this time. he lets you see. lets the weight of his stare settle on you like a touch.
âthe router is working fine,â he says, voice low and rough, carrying that same stern tone he always uses, like he is delivering a verdict in court rather than standing in your living room with a hard-on he cannot will away. âyou know that as well as i do. why did you really call me over here?â
you swallow visibly, eyes flicking down to the clear outline of his cock straining against his jeans before rising back to his face.
your chest rises and falls with a heavier breath, lips parting slightly, but instead of answering you take one slow step back. then another. your hands move to the waistband of your sleep shorts, fingers hooking under the fabric, and you bend forward just enough to slide them down your legs in one smooth motion.
the shorts pool at your ankles and you step out of them, leaving you in nothing but a pair of grey lace panties with delicate pink ribbons threaded along the edges. the soft fabric clings to the curve of your pussy, the faint outline of your folds visible through the thin material, and nanamiâs right leg twitches involuntarily, his cock jerking hard inside his jeans at the sight.
his brows draw together in a quick pretend of frown, serious expression tightening. âwhat are you doing?â he asks, voice dropping even lower, a clear warning threaded through the words. but you do not stop. your fingers catch the hem of your oversized t-shirt next, lifting it slowly, inch by inch, revealing the soft skin of your stomach, the delicate dip of your waist, the underside of your breasts.
you pull the shirt up and over your head, letting it drop to the floor beside the shorts, and now you stand there in only the grey lace panties, tits bare, nipples stiff in the cool air of the room. nanamiâs breath catches, his hands flexing hard at his sides, the long fingers curling into fists as he fights the urge to reach for you.
he says your name then, low and rough, the syllables heavy with warning. âdonât.â but you only smile, small and soft and knowing, and continue. your thumbs hook into the waistband of the panties, sliding them down your hips with agonizing slowness, the lace catching briefly on the swell of your ass before you let them fall.
you step out of them completely, now fully naked in front of him, skin flushed warm under his heavy gaze. you walk toward him, bare feet quiet on the floor, hips swaying just enough to make your tits move softly with each step. when you are close enough that he can feel the heat radiating from your body, when his mouth opens to speak again, you lift one finger and press it gently to his lips, shushing him.
nanami lets out a small, broken sound, half whimper, half groan, the noise slipping out before he can stop it. his cock throbs visibly in his jeans, another bead of pre-cum soaking into the fabric as the tension coils tighter in the narrow space between your bodies.
he exhales shakily against your finger, eyes dark and conflicted, thick needy lines deepening on his face. âyouâre a very young girlâŚâ he trails off, voice rough and strained, the words carrying the weight of every reason he has been telling himself to stay away.
you pull your finger back just enough to speak, voice soft but steady. âiâm legal.â
âbarely,â he counters immediately, the word clipped, his gaze dropping despite himself to the bare curve of your breasts, it taught him to squeeze on them and make you feel good, the soft swell of your hips, the smooth skin between your thighs where he can already see the faint shine of arousal. âyouâre barely twenty-something. iâm more than twice your age. this⌠this is not appropriate.â
you tilt your head slightly, still standing naked and unashamed in front of him, the tension so thick it feels like the air itself has weight. âand yet youâre standing here with your cock so hard i can see it twitching through your jeans,â you murmur, eyes flicking down pointedly to the obvious bulge. âyouâve been avoiding me all week, nanami-san, but you still came over the second i knocked. tell me again how inappropriate this is.â
caught him red handed. fuck you.
he lets out another low groan, the sound vibrating in his chest, his hand coming up like he might push you away but instead hovering just above your waist, fingers trembling with restraint. âyou have no idea what youâre asking for,â he says, voice quieter now, almost pained. âiâm not some young man who can just⌠give in without consequences. you deserve better than an older neighbor who canât keep his eyes off you.â
the banter stretches, slow and heavy, every word laced with the electric pull between you. you step even closer, your bare breasts brushing the front of his white shirt, nipples dragging against the fabric, and nanamiâs breath hitches sharply. âthen why does it feel like youâve been thinking about this as much as i have?â you ask, voice barely above a whisper. âwhy do you look at me like you want to bend me over every time we pass in the hall?â
his jaw clenches, the muscle ticking visibly, but his eyes stay locked on yours even as his cock continues to throb between you.
âbecause i do,â he admits finally, the words dragged out like they cost him something. âi want to. more than i should. but youâre young. barely out of college. and iâm⌠this.â he gestures vaguely at himself, the musty yet cleaned scent of his body stronger now with the heat rising off his skin, the faint sweat dampening the collar of his shirt. âa tired man who should know better.â
you smile again, softer this time, and reach up to trace one finger along the line of his jaw. âthen stop fighting it for one night,â you whisper. âjust let yourself have me. i want you, nanami. iâve wanted you since the first time you fixed my router and looked at me like you were starving.â
the silence stretches again, thick and humming with tension, his breath coming heavier now, chest rising and falling against yours. his hand finally settles on your waist, large palm warm and slightly rough against your bare skin, thumb stroking once, slow and deliberate.
he does not pull you closer yet, but he does not push you away either. the battle is still there in his eyes, solemn and conflicted, but the hunger is winning, inch by aching inch, as the minutes tick by in the quiet room and his cock continues to strain painfully against his jeans, waiting for the moment his restraint finally gives out completely.
nanamiâs hand tightens on your waist, fingers spanning wide enough to nearly wrap around the curve of it, and the last of his resistance crumbles like dry paper under the heat of your bare skin against his palm.
he exhales once, long and shaky, eyes still calculated but dark now with the kind of hunger he has been trying to bury for weeks, and then he is moving, guiding you backward until the backs of your knees hit the couch and you sink down onto the cushions. he follows without a word, dropping to his knees between your spread thighs like a man who has finally stopped pretending he can walk away.
his broad shoulders push your legs wider, the white button-up stretching tight across his chest as he leans in, breath hot against the inside of your thigh. he looks up at you one last time, jaw set, like he is giving you one final chance to tell him no, but you only slide your fingers into his neatly combed hair and tug him closer. that is all it takes.
his mouth finds your pussy like he has been starving for it, lips parting to drag a slow, broad stripe up your folds, tongue flat and heavy as he tastes you properly for the first time. the groan that vibrates out of his chest is low and rough, almost pained, because you are already soaked, slick coating his tongue in a way that makes his cock jerk hard inside his jeans.
he licks again, slower this time, savoring the way your thighs tremble on either side of his head, then seals his mouth around your clit and sucks gently, tongue flicking in tight little circles that have your back arching off the couch. one of his huge hands slides up your stomach, palm pressing flat just below your navel, and he pushes down with just enough pressure to make your pussy clench around nothing.
the size of his hand there is obscene, fingers spread wide so his pinky rests near the base of your ribs and his thumb brushes the top of your mound, the sheer scale of him against your smaller frame making everything feel tighter, hotter, more overwhelming.
nanami eats you out like he has all night and nothing else matters, tongue sliding deep between your folds before circling back up to your clit, sucking and licking in a rhythm that builds slow and relentless. his free hand grips your thigh, spreading you even wider, thumb digging into the soft flesh while he buries his face deeper, nose pressing against your mound as he drinks down every drop of you. the wet sounds fill the quiet room, wet and loud, his groans mixing with the slick slide of his tongue and the shaky breaths you keep letting out.
he keeps that steady pressure on your lower belly the whole time, palm rubbing slow circles that make your insides twist and flutter, the tummy bullying so deliberate it feels like he is trying to feel exactly where his mouth is working from the inside. your hips twitch, trying to ride his face, but he holds you down with that big hand, keeping you exactly where he wants you while he pushes you closer and closer to the edge.
when you come it hits hard and sudden, pussy pulsing against his tongue as your thighs clamp around his head and a broken moan spills out of you. nanami does not stop. he keeps licking you through it, slower now but just as thorough, tongue dragging over your oversensitive clit until your whole body jerks and you try to squirm away from the intensity.
he only presses his palm firmer against your stomach, holding you in place, the slight overstimulation making your eyes water and your voice crack on his name. ânanamiâŚpleaâ fuck, itâs too much,â you whimper, but he just hums against you, the vibration sending another sharp spark through your core, and slides two thick fingers into your still-clenching pussy without warning. they stretch you wide, the size of them so much bigger than your own that you feel every knuckle, every ridge, as he curls them deep and starts pumping slow and steady.
he lifts his head just enough to watch his fingers disappear inside you, eyes dark and tempting, lips shiny with your slick. âlook at how well you take them,â he murmurs, voice gravel-rough, the praise low and almost reverent as he presses down on your belly again with his other hand, feeling the way his fingers create a very faint bulge against your walls from the outside.
the pressure makes everything tighter, more intense, and you clench hard around him, another wave of overstimulation crashing through you while he keeps fingering you through the aftershocks. his thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow circles that have you shaking, the combination of his thick fingers stretching you open and the firm press on your tummy turning every breath into a broken little sob.
he does not rush. he just keeps working you, long fingers dragging along that perfect spot inside while his palm rubs steady circles on your stomach, bullying that soft lower belly until you are dripping down his wrist and whimpering his name like it will make it better than it already is.
only when your thighs are trembling uncontrollably and your pussy is fluttering helplessly around his fingers does he finally ease up, sliding them out slow and careful, bringing them to his mouth to lick clean with a low groan that makes your stomach flip.
he stays on his knees between your legs for a long moment, forehead resting against your thigh, breathing hard while his cock strains painfully against his jeans, the front of the fabric dark with pre-cum. when he finally looks up at you his eyes are still determined, still carrying that quiet conflict, but the hunger has won completely now, and the way he stares at your flushed, marked body makes it clear he is nowhere near done with you tonight.
nanami stays on his knees between your spread thighs for another long, heavy breath, forehead pressed to the soft skin just above your knee while his chest rises and falls like he is trying to steady something inside himself that already broke minutes ago. his fingers are still shiny with you, the faint scent of his skin mixed with the sharp sweetness of your pussy hanging thick in the air.
when he finally moves it is slow and deliberate, like every motion costs him something. he rises to his full height, towering over you on the couch, white button-up wrinkled and damp at the collar from the heat rolling off both of you. his hands, large and steady, slide under your thighs and around your back in one smooth motion, scooping you up off the cushions like you weigh nothing at all.
your legs wrap around his slim waist on instinct, heels digging into the firm muscle of his lower back, and the sudden shift leaves you gasping against his shoulder because he lifts you so easily, strong arms locking you against his chest while your bare pussy hovers right above the heavy bulge still trapped in his jeans.
he does not give you time to look down. one arm stays banded tight under your ass, holding your weight like it is effortless, while his free hand works between your bodies to unbuckle his belt with a quiet metallic clink. the zipper follows, the sound loud in the quiet room, and he shoves both jeans and briefs down just enough to free himself.
you feel the thick, heavy length spring up against your inner thigh, hot and velvet-smooth, the blunt mushroom head already slick and leaking. before you can even tilt your head to catch a glimpse he shifts you higher in his arms, pressing your back against the nearest wall for leverage, and uses that same free hand to guide the fat head of his cock right to your dripping entrance.
the broad tip nudges through your folds, rubbing slow and deliberate, coating himself in your slick while he watches your face with those solemn dark eyes, brows knitted tight like he is still fighting the last scraps of restraint.
âbreathe,â he mutters, voice low and rough, the single word almost gentle even as his hips tilt forward. he helps you sink down, one thick inch at a time, the stretch burning so good it makes your jaw go slack and your eyes flutter half-shut.
he is big, thicker than anything you have taken, the veined shaft dragging along your walls as he lowers you steadily until your ass meets his hips and he is buried to the hilt. a quiet groan tears from his throat when he bottoms out, the sound vibrating through his chest into yours, and for a long second he just holds you there, letting you feel every inch of him pulsing deep inside your smaller body.
youâre pressed and folded in an awkward position, and it only makes the size difference feel more obscene, your soft curves dwarfed by his tall, solid frame.
nanami does not wait long. his hands grip your ass harder, fingers digging into the soft flesh, and he starts to move, lifting you up and dropping you back down onto his cock with controlled, powerful strokes that hammer into you deep enough to punch the air from your lungs. each thrust makes your whole body jolt in his arms, tits bouncing under nothing. bare and free for him to watch, back sliding against the wall while he fucks up into you like he has been imagining it for weeks.
his height towers over you completely, shoulders broad enough to block out the room, white shirt straining across his chest with every roll of his hips.
the mushroom head of his cock drags perfectly along that spot inside you on every downstroke, the sheer size of him making your belly bulge slightly every time he bottoms out, a faint outline visible under your skin if you looked down, but he keeps your face buried against his neck so you cannot.
he keeps that steady, punishing rhythm, hips snapping up hard while his arms hold you suspended like you are weightless, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing louder with every thrust. sweat beads along his hairline, dampening the collar of his shirt, and his breath comes in hot, measured pants against your ear.
âtoo big for you?â he asks, voice strained but still carrying that solemn edge, even as he grinds deep and holds you there for a heartbeat, letting you feel how completely he fills you.
your only answer is a broken moan and loled nod, nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt, legs tightening around his waist as another wave of overstimulation starts building fast. he does not slow down. he just keeps lifting and dropping you onto every thick inch, eyebrows still knitted in concentration, eyes flicking between your slack mouth and the way your body takes him so greedily.
his shirt keeps getting in the way, bunching up between both of you, so he shifts his grip, one hand sliding up to yank the fabric higher until it is completely off of him, exposing his sweaty chest completely to the cool air and your half-focused stare.
now there is nothing between you but sweat-slick skin and the relentless drag of his cock stretching you open. he leans in, mouth finding your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin while he hammers into you harder, the angle shifting so the head of his cock bullies that perfect spot with every upward thrust. your smaller frame jolts in his arms with each powerful stroke, pussy clenching tight around the thick length splitting you apart, and nanami groans low and deep, the sound rumbling through his chest as he feels you start to flutter around him again.
he keeps you pinned against the wall like that, towering over you, strong arms never tiring as he fucks you deep and steady, the size difference so stark it makes your head spin. every time he bottoms out his hips grind against your clit, the pressure on your lower belly from the inside making everything feel tighter, fuller, more overwhelming.
you are already close again, thighs shaking around his waist, voice cracking on his name, and nanami just holds you there, determined eyes locked on your face while he drives you closer to the edge with every heavy thrust, determined to feel you come around his cock before he lets himself follow.
nanamiâs rhythm starts to falter just a little, hips snapping up with shorter, more desperate strokes while his breath comes hot and ragged against the side of your neck. he can feel it building fast, that tight coil low in his gut, his heavy balls drawing up tight and aching as your pussy flutters and squeezes around every thick inch of him.
but he refuses to let go first. he is older, more controlled, and right now that control means making sure you fall apart completely before he does.
with a low grunt he shifts his grip, one big hand sliding under your ass to tilt your hips forward while the other presses flat against your lower back, forcing your spine into a deep arch that pushes your pelvis out and opens you up even more obscenely. the new angle is nasty, almost cruel, your body folded and suspended in his arms so your clit grinds hard against the base of his cock on every upward thrust and the fat head of him drags directly into that spongy spot inside you at a brutal upward curve.
your legs dangle wider, heels kicking uselessly against his lower back, the sheer size difference making you feel like you are being split open and rearranged from the inside while he holds you like a toy.
he starts hammering into you with that filthy new angle, cock bullying that spot over and over until your eyes roll back and broken sobs start spilling from your slack mouth.
the overstimulation crashes in hard and fast, your already sensitive pussy clenching and spasming around him while tears prick at the corners of your eyes and start to slip down your flushed cheeks.
your hand flies down between your bodies on instinct, palm pushing weakly at his lower stomach like you can stop the relentless drag of his cock, fingers scrabbling against the damp fabric of his white shirt. nanamiâs eyes narrow, jaw tightening, and he leans in close, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he hisses the words low and dark, âdo that again and iâll fucking hurt you good.â
the threat hits you like a live wire. your whole body seizes, a choked cry tearing from your throat, and then you are squirting hard around his cock, hot fluid gushing out in messy pulses that soak his jeans, drip down his balls, and splatter onto the floor beneath you.
nanami groans deep and filthy at the feeling, the wet heat flooding around him making his cock twitch violently inside you. he does not slow down. if anything he fucks you harder, hips snapping up with wet, punishing slaps while his free hand slides between your bodies and starts tracing tight, relentless infinity signs over your swollen clit with two thick fingers. the pressure is mean and perfect, circling and dragging in that figure-eight pattern while he keeps pounding into that nasty folded angle, cock bullying your g-spot and his fingers never letting up on your overstimulated clit.
âi know, baby, i know,â he rasps against your ear, voice hoarse and strained, the words almost soothing even as he wrecks you. âyou can take it. just let it happen.â your legs shake violently around his waist, tears streaming freely now, little hiccuping sobs mixing with the wet squelch of your pussy taking every brutal thrust.
nanami keeps that freaky rhythm going, hips rolling deep, fingers drawing those endless infinity loops over your clit until your vision whites out and another shattering orgasm rips through you, pussy clamping down so hard it almost forces him out. he hisses through his teeth, sweat dripping from his brow onto your chest, but he powers through it, fucking you straight through the peak and into the trembling aftershocks.
his own control finally snaps. his balls tighten almost painfully, cock swelling even thicker inside your fluttering walls as he buries himself to the hilt one last time, grinding deep while thick, hot ropes of cum flood you. he comes with a low, broken groan that vibrates through his chest, pulsing hard and endless, filling you so full that it starts leaking out around his cock in creamy white streaks every time he gives one last shallow thrust.
the mess is everywhere, your squirt and his cum dripping down your thighs, soaking the front of his jeans and pooling on the floor, the obscene wet sounds slowly fading as he keeps you pinned against the wall, still buried deep, both of you heaving for air.
nanamiâs forehead drops to your shoulder, breathing hard, the last energy well spent, showing of with both of your sweat-soaked body mixing with the sharp smell of sex filling the room. his arms stay locked around you, holding your smaller frame effortlessly even as his cock twitches with the last weak spurts inside you.
for a long moment the only sounds are your shaky sobs and his ragged breathing, bodies trembling together in the aftermath, messy and spent and still connected. he does not pull out yet. he just keeps you there, suspended in his arms, the quiet weight of everything that just happened settling heavy between you while his cum continues to leak slowly out around where he is still buried deep.
nanami stays buried inside you for what feels like forever, thick cock still twitching with the last lazy pulses while warm cum slowly leaks out around where your bodies are joined, dripping down your thighs and onto the floor in messy little trails.
your legs are still wrapped around his waist, trembling, heels digging weakly into his lower back like you cannot quite let go yet, and he keeps holding you up without any effort, strong arms locked under your ass, keeping your smaller frame suspended against the wall like it is the most natural thing in the world. your shaky little sobs eventually quiet into soft, hiccuping breaths, tears drying on your cheeks, but the overstimulation still makes your pussy flutter weakly around him every few seconds, milking out another thin trickle of his cum.
finally he shifts, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he carefully pulls out, the wet sound loud and obscene in the quiet room.
a thick glob of his cum follows immediately, sliding out of your swollen, puffy pussy and running down to join the mess already pooled beneath you. he lowers you gently until your feet touch the floor, but your legs are too shaky to hold you, so he keeps one arm banded around your waist, steadying you against his chest while his other hand tucks himself back into his briefs and jeans with a quiet zip.
the white button-up is wrinkled and damp with sweat when he puts it back on, black jeans dark at the front from your squirt, but he still looks put-together in that quiet, solemn way of his, even now.
he does not say anything at first. just looks down at you with those dark, heavy eyes, thumb brushing slow circles on your bare hip like he cannot quite stop touching you. then he exhales, long and tired, and rests his forehead against yours for a brief second.
âthisâŚâ his voice comes out rough, low, almost reluctant. âthis canât happen again.â
the words hang between you, simple and final, even as his hand lingers on your skin and his cum continues to drip slowly down the inside of your thigh.
he presses one last, almost gentle kiss to your temple, the kind of kiss that feels heavier than any promise, before he steps back. his fingers flex once at his sides like he is fighting the urge to pull you close again, then he turns toward the door, shoulders straight, footsteps quiet on the floor.
âget some rest,â he murmurs without looking back, the manly scent of him still clinging to your skin. âand⌠call the building manager about the router next time.â
the door clicks shut behind him, leaving you standing there naked and trembling in the middle of your living room, thighs sticky, pussy aching and full of him, the quiet weight of what just happened settling deep in your chest. you know he means it. you also know, deep down, that neither of you really believes it.
well yâall i had to claw my nails onto a wall to storm this idea so it better do good or youâre not hearing from me again.. (iâm literally posting in few hours again đ)
Rei had been restless for hours. She wouldnât sleep for more than twenty minutes at a time. She arched in your arms, crying a cry unlike hunger or sleepâsharper, more desperate. Her little hands went straight to her mouth, to her swollen gums.
Nanami sat on the edge of the bed, hair messy, no watch, his shirt unevenly buttoned. He had already tried everything.
The cold teether.
The damp cloth.
Gentle pats.
Walking her down the hallway.
Whispering to her.
Nothing worked.
âDaddyâs hereâŚâ he murmured, his voice low, tight. âItâs okay, Rei⌠pleaseâŚâ
He took her carefully when you were already exhausted. Rei cried harder, as if even the movement hurt. Her little eyes shone with tears, her cheeks flushed, her tiny body trembling.
Nanami felt his chest tighten.
There was no curse to strike. No enemy to defeat. No immediate solution.
Only his daughter⌠in pain.
âKentoâŚâ you whispered from the bed. âItâs not your fault.â
But he didnât look at you. He couldnât.
He pressed Rei against his chest with extreme care, rocking slowly.
âI know,â he replied, even though it didnât feel that way. âBut I would give anything to take it from you⌠even for a second.â
Rei let out a broken, exhausted whimper and rested her forehead against his neck.
Nanami closed his eyes.
He had seen people die in his arms.
He had felt helpless before.
But this⌠this was breaking him in a quiet, devastating way.
âIâm your dadâŚâ he whispered, his voice shattered. âIâm supposed to protect you from everything.â
His large fingers stroked Reiâs back with infinite care, as if love alone could soothe the pain.
He didnât cry. Nanami didnât cry easily.
But when Rei, between hiccups, reached for his shirt with her tiny fingers and clutched itâŚ
something inside him broke.
You slowly got up and wrapped your arms around both of them.
âLook at her,â you said softly. âSheâs safe. Sheâs with you.â
Nanami rested his forehead against yours, exhausted.
âI wish I could do more.â
âYou already are,â you replied. âYouâre here. Thatâs everything to her.â
And as if Rei had heard you, her crying began to soften. It didnât disappear completely, but it grew weaker, more tired, more surrendered. Her little body slowly relaxed.
Nanami didnât move.
He stood there for nearly an hour, just so he wouldnât wake her.
His arm numb.
His back stiff.
His heart in pieces.
Because if anything hurt more than the exhaustionâŚ
it was knowing his baby was suffering and he couldnât save her from it.
And yet, as dawn began to filter through the window, Kento thought:
If loving hurts like this⌠then itâs worth every second.
Summary: You moved your life in a different place. New university, new work, new friends. And need an apartment but where and with who? It appears you are about to be Nanami Kento's neighbor, but you end up with being his roommate instead.
Wc: Around 6.5k
Cw: fem!reader x kento nanami, pre-relationship, roommate au, roommate!Nanami, sfw, being a foreign consept, slow burn, virgin!nanami, stoic!Nanami.
A/n: I am not native. Please inform any gramer mistakes. This will not include smut until they get married (if they ever will). This is not perfect, I know. I just felt good writing it, and wanted to share. Might edit later.
This is not going be exactly a series with subsequent chapters, but I will develop the same world for them.
"Hello, may I help?" A man called from behind.
------
You were having a conversation about the apartment you are trying to rent with the landlord. He was talking about the other tenant who lives there. Small and old apartment, a great deal rent-wise. It was simple for him.
You, though, were in a very foreign country, were trying to settle for a new chapter of your life, leaving everything behind. Not everything is left behind tho. Your degree and dreams came with you. But, the job experience and budget limitations were giving you a hard time at this point. Are you gonna be safe and sound enough with this old apartment? Probably not. It was just for the time being you were telling yourself. You will do better and get a better place.
"Hello, may I help?" A man called from behind.
You looked at the direction where the deepest voice you ever heard reached you from. There was a tall, broad and very blond man, with sharp facial features. He was intimidating for sure at the first glance, but the way he spoke gave you some sort of comfort. He was well composed, a two-piece suit, in beige, a beautiful blue dress shirt, a ridiculous tie with matching suspenders and shoes. Was he back from work at this hour of the day? You kinda remembered this outfit from somewhere else roday. And his accent gave you a clue that this is not his first language either. He was a foreign too?
"She is here for the available bedroom, nothing to do with you." The landlord said dismissively. He doesn't want to loose you since the other tenant is a bit problematic.
The blond neighbor looks at you directly, deep in your eyes.
"Hello," he said again seriously in your own language this time, "I don't think it is very good idea to rent it."
You raised your brows amusingly, and giggled slightly. "Hi. And you say that because..." you responded in your language too.
Landlord interrupt, "Don't do that here. Will you get it or not?"
"I will let her know about the neighborhood, she doesn't have to decide yet. There is not much offer for it anyways." The blond man stated stoically.
Landlord was not happy about it, but the demeanour of the man in front of him stopped him going further to push you. A big man and his protection instinct towards a young woman from a creepy fraud landlord? He knew he doesn't have much of a chance.
"Ah, please let me know about it, after you let me know about yourself please." You replied, slightly annoyed. It is not that you fully trusted the situation you are in right now, but not broad range if options you had either.
Meanwhile, the landlord left with a "Whatever. You know where to find me."
"Kento Nanami," he introduced himself. "I am here working beside my PhD in the university. You actually saw me in the cafeteria today, after the seminar. I was beside Yu Haibara, he is my friend."
Oh, that was true. It was a mandatory health seminar arranged at the beginning of every academic year for the new stuff. Yu was very sweet and very knowledgeable doctor in his gynecology in both men and women field, and gave very practical information about STDs and everything. You remembered how Dr. Yu was making some jokes poking this man's belly while sipping his tea.
"Oh, which faculty are you in?"
"Engineering." Damn of course he is. "I've had an ambition about yatchs one morning, and persuaded after it. Finance didn't open an exciting door for me, so I work as a computer scientist now." And he was also a finance guy?! "And you?"
"Engineering as well. In biology more spesificly. I'm also very involved in programming."
"Oh, we are colleagues then, very lovely." He wants to talk about it more, but you guys are standing on the hallway and you seem to get the apartment hunting over with as soon as possible. "Hey, I am sorry I overstep there, but the guy who lives there is not exactly compitable to live with. Do you think we can go a nearby cafe and let me help you?"
"Look, I understand you try to help, but I cannot keep paying 50 euros per night for a creepy hotel bed. I don't need to know why I cannot rent it, I wanna know any reason to rent it."
"Have a coffee with me, please." He demanded again. He was not as serious to you as he was to the landlord, but he was not the sweetest either. You agreed.
He took you a cozy cafe. Latte and chocolate chips cookie you get. He got black coffee with some milk.
"So, I have some real estate names, let's see them. There is one in the corner of the main street. I will text him-"
"He has left 3 options, all in the houses of college guys live. A few of them. I am not living with guys."
"Okkay, there is one in the north, it is not very far away, you can get the train to school-"
"Nopes. My office is there, so I scanned the area, and not any available one in my budget yet."
"Let's see the east, then-"
"Transportation to university from there is hell. I am new here but I know it. Very far from the city center too."
"Okay, I know some girl groups from college. They might have a spare bedroom, or they might know a relative or a friend or something. Let me ask one of them, and they will help." And he started typing. "This is Shoko, she will spread the news."
"Thank you, I don't have any girl friend here yet."
"Were you staying in hotel all these times?"
"No. I crushed at some relatives' place and friends' for a while, but I cannot keep being uncomfortable in others' house forever."
"You came here without arranging a place?" He amusingly lift his brows, mirroring your previous act.
"Hey, let's focus on how I arranged everything but that." You protested.
He gave a small chuckle. He was somehow much more sweeter than the first impression he gave. He sipped his coffee, puts the cup down with his delicate long fingers, looks at you in the eye. You scan his face more in detail. His lips were as sweet as honey. They were somehow thin, and pink. His chin and jaw so sharp. A beautifully manly nose. A little darker brows and eyelashes. And hazel eyes. He was very handsome, but you could only understand it after a while. He was waiting for you to finish assessing his beauty. You got shy suddenly after watching his face so long, you averted your gaze down to your latte. You took a sip and smiled to yourself.
He watched you got pink in your cheeks. He felt warm. He could never see you coming in his life. He had no idea in the morning. He went to work, completed his task before noon, attended his best friend's, former roommate's seminar. After he saw you in the cafeteria. You were bonding with other students of your professor. You were laughing at something, and he could hear how you told a funny story about your city back in home. It was either you or your auro, or maybe the fact that you are from the same country, but he felt his instinct towards protecting you here appeared instantly. He was planning to see you again in lectures, but didn't know how to approach a girl without worrying you. It was a big surprise he saw you there. It was impossible to let you be as you are now. He gotta be sure you are safe, and not staying with an unstable man.
You chatted a little while, he checked his phone, and Shoko told him there is not any good news yet. It was getting late, and he offered to drop you to your hotel. He got your number, and told you to give him time for a day before setteling to be his neighbor. You promised, and got back to your little room.
The next day starts as always. You stop by the office, completed your tasks, got your lunch, rushed to your lectures. While finishing, you got a text from Kento, asking when you are leaving. You texted him like now, he asked you to meet him at the library. He pulled your chair, and let you sit across him.
"So, news are not very bright." He started.
You giggled. "I know, thanks for searching for me. I have applied for the dormitory too. When there is an available spot, they will inform me. Until then, I don't think I can stay still. I will be your neighbor. Hello neighbor!"
He got serious. "Don't be my neighbor-"Â
You were so ready to protest and started "I can't-"
He took over, "Be my roommate instead." You got surprised, he continued. "I would be much more relieved by not worrying you are not comfortable over there, and I have a spare room since Yu moved out."
"Why did he move? You didn't laugh his jokes?" You wanted to wave of some of the tension.
He chuckled just a little. "No, he got married."
"Oh, I see. He left you to be only virgin behind." Have you over board waving of the tension?
"What are you saying? He is the first non-virgin in our guy group." He smiled. It seems he catch up with you. He waited for your answer. "The condition of my apartment is better. The furniture belongs to house, but it is clean."
You hesitated. It was the best option so far, yet it was going to be strange staying with a guy. "Are you sure you want me in your house? Will you be comfortable with a girl around?"
"So much better since you will be safe with me." He was serious. "Your bedroom will have a key, and I will encourage you to lock your door at night. I will give you space and I'll behave appropriately. We can set some ground rules and everything. If you find a better place along the time, I will help you make a good deal."
It was very good idea. He seemed a really nice guy, and you have already heard about him from the girls at school, how reliable and stoic man he is from their perspective. Knowing he was your potential neighbor, you searched a bit about him. It turns, your offices are in the same complex as well. You didn't want to be seem so eager for the idea anyhow.
"I have already cleaned some sheets for you, and I will also help you to carry your bags to the house. Tonight if you agree. And please agree with me. Do not stay with him. We study at the same faculty, and I will be respectful to your boundaries.
"Nanami...-"
"It is Kento."
"Kento, that is really sweet of you, but I cannot be okay with it if you feel yourself obligated doing so. I don't wanna be a trouble-"
"You are not being one. It is my moral that I cannot let a young woman be in danger." You rolled your eyes, and he got even more serious, "Don't dismiss the truth, young lady. You know world is neither fair nor safe for women." You knew he was right. "So, if we go and get your luggages now, we can start dinner at 8. What would you like to eat?"
------------
He drove both of you to your hostel. You checked out, picked your stuff, and moved to Nanami Kento's apartment in the same evening.
He showed you your room. It was clean and it smelled fresh. "You can unpack, I will start to cook."
You thanked him and started to unpack. There are only a few pieces of furniture at the room, only the essential ones. It was really easier than you taught, since everything is super clean. In an hour, you were all done. You found Nanami Kento in the kitchen afterwards.
The kitchen, and the house in general was really old. You could hear his movements in the kitchen.
"Can I help?" You asked.
"Help yourself and take a seat. Creamy pasta, meatballs and veggies are all ready."
"Thanks for cooking." You said shyly.
You ate for a while, and you started asking.
"So, how much is the rent, and other utilities? I assumed it was similar to your neighbor."
"Yes, it is."
"Were you paying for two bedroom all this time?"
"Yeah, I didn't want to share my space with anyone, and I am financially stable, so it didn't really bothered me. Yu got married half a year ago, and the other guys already shares their own apartment."
"Who are your buddies?" You giggled.
"There are Satoru and Suguru. They are basically a couple. And their third wheel Shoko, my only female friend, she is a doctor as well. We got our degrees from same university back in the day, they were our seniors, and we moved here together. And there is Hiromi, he is a lawyer, and doesn't live here. He visits us often. You can meet him, just in case you need a lawyer. And you already know Yu."
"Fantastic. Big friends group. Always jealous."
He got humorous. "They all are more Yu's friends actually. I am plus one to Yu almost everything."
You chewed a bit more in silence. Then you go, "So, you said we can set some ground rules. What do you have in mind?"
He swallewed his bite carefully. "There is one bathroom, so I will be sure I will not be around in the morning after or before my turn so you can use it freely. We can set a cleaning schedule, and if you want we can share cooking. I prefer going to shopping for home once a week, and we can go together from now on. I will let you know if someone is coming over, and I will expect you to do the same. I really appreciate if you let me know whenever you will be late, so I won't have a heart attack worrying over you. And I prefer if you don't have male friends over for night. And I also prefer if you don't go to theirs at night."
You narrowed your eyes. "Mostly seems fair. What about your girlfriends. Do I have a say how much time they can spend here?"
"Yes you may, considering I don't have a girlfriend, and I have already told you I am a virgin, and only female friend I have is Shoko. You will love her even more than me, so I am already defeated in that area."
"You don't have to be worried about other men in the house either. Not now at least." He didn't explicitly responded to that. You continued, "Your rules seem reasonable. I would like to share any expenses."
"Yeah, sure, no problem. Make yourself home. Ah, one more thing. This apartment is a temporary place for me. My target apartment is getting built as we speak, like in a half year, I was planning to move in. It also has a two bedrooms, so I suggest you to come with me as well. There will be no furniture, so we can go see the apartment and you can shop four your room."
A new house! This was exiting. "Uuu, how is it like?"
"It is new, I promise," he gave a small smile. "Still close to campus, about 10 minutes walk to train station. The apartment is on the entrance floor but the building is in a residential complex, so it is so much safer than here, and there is a pool in the middle of the complex."
Starts literally appeared on your eyes. "Can we have a dog?" You blurted so suddenly, thinking the garden. "And a cat?" A pinkish color dyed your face out of your excitement.
He chuckled in his own stoic way. "We can think about it later." He ate the last piece on his plate. "Tomorrow is Friday, usually when I shop. Would you like to come with me?"
"Yes, sure. Can I browse whatever is missing at home?"
"Absolutely, please. Finish your dinner and the whole home is yours. List everything you want and need."
Afterwards, you opened the fridge and every drawer in the common areas. You both were staying there for a short period of time, so you decided not to get anything permeant for this place. You added some groceries to the list on the fridge, and made a new column for your personal items as well.
After, you took the dishes, but Kento stopped you. "You must be tired. I will deal with the dishes, you can use the bathroom. Let me show you how the faucet works first." He led you to the bathroom, and as how a good host is supposed to be, he showed how anything works in the bathroom like it is first time you are seeing how a tap works.
While he is in the kitchen, you took a quick shower, slipped into your bathrobe, brushed tour teeth and hair, do some skin care, and left for your room. Nanami was sitting on the couch with his back to bathroom, watching the news.
"I am out." You called. He nodded without looking at you. You closed your bedroom door and heard his steps towards to the bathroom.
He could smell the shampoo you used. It was very sweet. He did the same things you did, and quickly headed to his own bedroom. After a while, there was a knock on your door.
"Yes!" You yelled, and opened the door. Here he was with dump hair, looking boyish.
"When do you leave for work tomorrow?" He asks.
"Tomorrow, I need to be at the University first, then to work. My lecture starts at nine thirty, so nine must be fine."
"I see. When should I pick you up for shopping?"
"You don't have to pick me up, I can meet you there."
"A bird told me you work close to where I work. It is unnecessary for you not to use my car."
"I finish the day at 5 pm." You exclaimed in defeat.
"5, it is. I will wait you in the main parking lot, in B18. Okay? Goodnight."
You nodded, "Goodnight."
"Lock the door behind." he said just before leaving to his room.
You didn't respond. You trusted him, but there were no need to behave like a stupid. You knew him less than a few days, so you did exactly what he told you to do.
He heard you locking the door, and he felt a sense of proud after you, and locked his own door.
Towards the morning, you hear him using the bathroom. You needed to use it as well. You met with him when he left the bathroom, you looked at him all adorable, he smiled and got into his room.
The second time you woke up was very well planned. You set alarm spesificly earlier than your usual schedule. You head to the kitchen and prepared a beautiful breakfast, boiled eggs, any salad, some tosts. He entered to the kitchen all sharp and smiled at your table.
"Thank you for cooking." He settled to the chair. He seemed he is enjoying his breakfast.
You left for lectures, he left for work. You decided to get your lunch at the work, and bumped into Kento there too. You smiled to him, he nodded to you, and each of you headed to your groups.
At 5, you were walking towards the parking lot, and you found him in front of his car, checking his messages. He stand up seeing you as you approached and smiled him, and opened the passenger door for you.
"Thank you." You said.
He started the car and took you the one of the biggest shopping center where you can find anything you might need at home. You took two big carts, and he placed a basket for his cart.
"This is for my personal item you won't pay for."
You copied his actions. "We start by groceries and then the other things?"
"Yes, reasonable. Add anything you want for until the next Friday."
You both did so. Fridge was almost empty, and there were no many pasta or rice. You added all the essentials first, and moved to the fruits and snacks. Then, you got a few missing cleaning products. Everything was set.
You went to cash register and he paid for everything in your carts. You borrowed the receipt, and demanded his bank account infos so you can sent the half of the cost and full cost of your personal items. He didn't protest luckily.
When you got home, you cleaned everything and stored them in fridge. You were working very compitable in the kitchen. He was rinsing, you were drying. You left some ingredients on the counter. He was about to start cooking.
"What would you like to eat?" He asked observing you as you try to find mixer for desert.
"What do you have in mind?"
"Somon bowl with pasta and veggies."
"Sound delicious. After, what about some brownies with cherries? Do you like desert?" You waved the chocolates to him.
His serious face got softer. "Yeah, I do very much."
You jumped out of happiness. He cooked, you baked. While you put the tray to oven and were chopping some hazelnuts to put on the the brownies, he was serving the bowls. You put the tea on the brew, so it will be ready until you start the desert.
You thanked and started eating. "Do you watch anything lately?"
"No, not really. I just go to the gym before bed."
"Would you like to pick a series to watch together? We can watch an episode."
"Okay, let's do that. What will we watch?"
"Hmm, what about Game of Thrones. I heard it is good."
He looked at you like you lost your mind, but you didn't flinch. He said, "Let's do it then."
You haven't watched it until now, and it was really popular back in time, you always wanted to see it, never found the right time or company.
You moved to the couche, opened the application and set the first episode it the series. He was standing and watching you doing these eagerly.
"I am gonna serve the desert, can you carry the teapot here? Or do you prefer to drink it very hot? We can leave it on the stove, if you want."
"Yes, I will fill our cups whenever we need, don't worry."
You portioned the brownies on dessert plate, and carried them to coffee table in front of the couche, and he brought the teas on a tray carefully. He slowly sit down near to you, leaving a respectful space between you. You started the episode. He tasted the brownie. His eyebrows changed their shape in surprise and satisfaction.
"Oh my god, this is awesome."
You moved happily as you sit. "I am glad you liked." He glanced you sideways and focus on the screen.
You guys eat and watch, sipped your teas. He finished his tea and checked yours. You realised he is waiting for the second round, and drained the last of your tea. He practically carried the empty cups and brought new batch.
At the end of the episode, you critisied it, and decided to keep going with Game of Thrones, one episode every night.
It got pretty late you did so, and while setting the dishes to the machine together, he started, "I usually go to gym in the evening. I don't feel very comfortable leaving you alone."
"It is okay Kento, I appreciate your care, but I am not a child. I will be fine alone. Nobody will eat me."
"Still, wouldn't you want to come with me? There are different sports region, you can choose whatever you like."
"Is there tennis court? I don't racket yet tho."
"Yes, there is. And you can use mine."
"Oh, you play too?!"
"After my set, I can join you in the court if you like."
"That sounds lovely. Is the gym nearby? Is it worth a membership, considering we will move out?"
"Yeah, it is perfectly okay. Dress tight. We will be sweaty and it is cold outside."
"Okay, give me some time, I will have my gym bag ready."
He got ready as well. Black sports bottom and tops with zipper. His bag is ready. You joined him in your pink wear. He smiled to himself, and drove both of you to the gym. You confirmed your membership, warmed up, played tennis, got all sweaty with a full red face.
When Kento completed his routine, he found you in the court playing with another guy. He have a slight nod to other guy, and approached to you.
You looked up him. He was so sweaty. His blond and normally well composed hair was all wet and long along his forehead. His shirt was all dump.
You were no different. Your sport bra was now a darker pink now, and got slightly transparent. There were sweat in your neck down to your chest.
He stand between you and your tennis partner, looked down at your chest. He wanted to get your towel and dry you but he controlled himself.
"Do you mind if I join?"
"No, we were about to finish with him anyway." You were out of your breath.
You and Nanami played for a while, and he beat you ruthlessly as you couldn't move your body out of tiredness.
"Let's head home." He suggested.
"I stink, I need to shower immediately. Can I here?"
"Just change, you shouldn't get cold with dump hair outside." You nodded and followed him to changing rooms.
He was waiting for you in front of the ladies changing room. Your tennis partner was leaving too.
"See you later," he said. You smiled at him too.
Nanami guided you toward the car.
"What do you do in weekends?" You asked.
"Late breakfast, some cleaning, laundry, readying. Things like that."
"So you are mostly at home?"
"Yeah, sometimes boys call or they come over, or I go to theirs. If you want I can show you around tomorrow? Maybe on Sunday, you can meet with them."
The proposal made you warm. " Yeah sure maybe."
He drove silently. "You can use the shower first. Give me your sport clothes so I can wash them."
"You don't have to do that, I can do them on my own."
"I will do mine already, it is not a problem."
When you got home, you directly went to the bathroom, and undressed.
"Kento, where should I put my clothes?" You called him opening the door slightly.
"Are you appropriate? I can come and get them."
"I am behind the door, you can come." He appared and grab the clothes without looking you.
You finished your job in the bathroom, and called him again, "Kento, I am done! Bathroom is all yours."
You heard him taking the shower when you got dressed. By the time you got into your pajamas and dried your hair, youheard the washing machine had come to an end. You rushed to it, and hang the both of yours' wet clothes.
You sat down to couch to fill your colander and dairy. Only the small orange lights were on, you were feeling safe and cozy for the first time you got into this city. You heard him leaving the bathroom, and forced yourself not to look.
"Feeling better?" He asked behind you.
You nodded. "Very much so."
"Good." He shouted his door closed.
Once you finished writing, your eyelids were closing. There is no other movement from Kento. You carried yourself to your bedroom, and slept very well that night.
So far, everything seemed perfectly normal to you. His care, his guidance... The routine of the house was very peaceful. You were in a condition of your best dreams.
On the other side of the wall, Kento was a bit flustered. He knew he just wanted to be responsible over a young woman, yet by the moment he saw you after the seminar and on the hallway of his apartment, he was developing things. And this was very new for him. Not solely for the feelings, but his focus has never been on relationships or on women. Sure he had wanted a family all this time, but for him things like that were not planned and executed. He didn't want to creep you out, so time will show your preferences for each other.
Post-Nut Reflections: Would You Like to Leave a Tip?
A/N: this is for shits and gigs, pls don't take it too seriously. you can see i got inspired by tonycries and reignpage and dashielldeveron, although i don't think i'll ever reach their level of pure mastery of the smut.also i messed up a couple areas that i meant to indent and not put in bold, but i have a headache so i'll fic it later
warnings: filth, not super well writen filth, minors this isn't for you.
Characters: Nanami, Toji, Gojo, Geto, Sukuna, Choso, Shiu, Higuruma. (in that order)
You are not alive.
You are not conscious.
You are raw hamburger meat in the hands of Nanami Kento, ex-salaryman, currently ranked number one in the World Sex Top Olympics.
This manâ no, this golden retriever in a business suit with a monster cock and God-tier precisionâhas folded you like laundry, stretched you like warm mochi, and handled you like you were a hostile cursed spirit needing âsubjugation.â With his dick.
And the worst part? (Best part?)
He was sweet about it. Gentle voice, praise so soft it made your spine arch, but with enough force behind his thrusts to move your tax bracket. There were positions you didnât even know existed. He held your wrists above your head with one hand. He let you bite him. Like a human stress ball. He told you, âItâs okay, you can be loud,â and then earned it.
You cameâlike, full-body, shaking cameâFIVE TIMES.
You blacked out during the third one and came to with your foot in the air and Nanami calmly fucking you like it was Monday morning paperwork.
Now:
Youâre on his chest, dazed. Heâs still warm. He smells like the answer to every prayer youâve ever mumbled in a dressing room mirror. His arms are around you, strong and gentle, like a goddamn weighted blanket made of man.
He rubs your back slowly.
âI ran you a bath,â he murmurs into your hair, voice still a little hoarse from all the groaning he did while rearranging your internal organs.
You nod into his collarbone. âYouâre so perfect itâs fucking unfair.â
He laughs, soft. Presses a kiss to your temple. âYouâre perfect.â
âIncorrect,â you mutter. âIâm unhinged.â
He looks down at you.
âWhy?â
You reach for your phone. Pull it up. Open a Google Form. Hand it to him.
âPlease take this short survey to rate your recent sexual experience with me,â you say like a goddamn concierge.
Nanami blinks. âIâwhat?â
âCustomer feedback is important to me,â you say brightly.
He looks at the screen.
Title: âDid I Fuck Good? đâ¨â
You watch his eyes scan the questions:
Q1: How would you rate my pussy?
𼲠1) Moist but confused
đ¤ 2) Made an effort
đ¤ 3) Had potential
𤤠4) Top tier
đ 5) Built by the Gods
Q2: Did I arch my back good?
Yes
No
You werenât looking :(
Q3: Did you feel emotionally held by the experience of raw dogging me into another plane of existence?
Yes
I cried a little
I would like to talk to a therapist about it (in a good way)
Nanami freezes. Looks at you. Looks back at the form. Blinks again. Heâs not upset. Heâs justâprocessing.
ââŚAre you serious?â
You nod solemnly.
He stares.
âIâIâm not sure what to say. This isââ
He gestures at the screen. âThis is absurd.â
âCustomer service is everything,â you mumble against his chest, trying not to laugh.
He reads the next part out loud:
âWould you like to leave a 15% tip for your server tonight?â
Pause.
âOr 20% if the pussy game was exceptional,â you offer helpfully.
Nanami is looking at the phone like it might explode.
âYouâre joking.â
You stare at him, completely blank.
âIâuh. I mean. I would tip,â he starts, voice hesitant like heâs walking into a trap, âbut weâre in a relationship. This feelsâtransactional?â
You can't hold it anymore- you burst out laughing. Instantly. Rolling onto your back, wheezing.
Nanami is utterly lost.
âYouâwaitâyouâre not serious?â he asks, confused and adorable.
You just keep laughing, gasping, âI got you SO badâKento, you looked like you were about to file a formal HR complaint.â
He exhales hard. Shakes his head. A hand comes up to his face like heâs exhausted by your bullshit and also deeply in love.
âYouââ he starts, then breaks off into a helpless chuckle. âYouâre insane.â
You poke his bicep. âYou like it.â
He leans over you, eyes warm, mouth curved in that rare soft smile that makes you want to cry and blow him at the same time.
âI do,â he murmurs. âVery much.â
Later, in the bathtub (which he made exactly 104°F, with those nice essential oils), youâre half-asleep in his arms. Heâs washing your hair with gentle fingers. Itâs disgustingly tender. Like cottagecore but make it slutty.
You murmur, âHey, Kento?â
âHm?â
âI think your dick is really pretty.â
He pauses.
ââŚThank you?â
âLike. Not scary-pretty. Like not the kind of dick that looks like it came from the Mariana Trench. Like one of those deep-sea angler fish, you know? All pale and sad and overqualified.â
Heâs silent for a moment. Then:
âI⌠suppose thatâs good?â
âYour dick,â you continue, âlooks like it pays taxes on time. Like it owns a really nice pen. It has manners.â
âIâm glad you find it⌠respectable.â
You grin at him through your shampoo-lathered hair. âAlso your thighs are so unreasonably thick. Like you could crack a watermelon between them. Or a soul.â
He looks away, slightly pink.
You nuzzle into his shoulder. âI love you.â
ââŚI love you, too.â
Later, back in bed, he finally submits the form. Adds a comment at the bottom:
âWould recommend. Beautiful form, strong arch, excellent enthusiasm. Will return.â
He selects 20% tip.
And adds a Etsy gift card for good measure.
Because Nanami ?
He supports women.
Especially when theyâre insane about his dick.
You knew Toji Fushiguro was gonna fuck like a menace.
The man has biceps bigger than your self-control, a criminal record, and enough swagger to bankrupt a nation. His voice is all low and lazy and sarcastic, and the first time he muttered, âyou gonna be good for me, or you gonna make me break you in?â you almost came untouched.
So of course, when it finally happensâwhen he finally throws your bratty ass over his shoulder like a sack of sins and fucks the fight right out of youâitâs exactly as intense, filthy, and bone-deep GOOD as youâd fantasized about while watching him eat a protein bar in one bite.
It starts with his mouth. Because Toji Fushiguro eats pussy like it owes him rent money. Like heâs trying to win something. Itâs messy, itâs loud, thereâs tongue everywhere, and at one point he pops off just to say:
âYouâre fuckinâ loud for someone who talks so much shit, sweetheart.â
Then he spits on your clit and goes back in like a man possessed.
Youâre clawing at the sheets like they personally offended you.
Youâre already shaking. And he hasnât even fucked you yet.
And then. Oh. Then.
âCâmon,â he growls, dragging his cock along your soaked slit, âcount it for me.â
You blink up at him, dazed. âHuh?â
âTo the hilt, baby. Count every inch while I stretch this little pussy out.â
BABE. LISTEN.
He lined up that massive fuck-off cock and growled againâ
âCount it, baby. Count the fuckinâ inches.â
and you did.
âOneânnnghâtwoâah! fuckâthree, s-shit, too bigââ
âYou wanted to be a little bitch. Take it.â
âfuckfuckfuckâi am!!!â
Toji had you folded up like an omelette. Thighs shaking. Jaw slack. Drooling. Literally drooling while he wrecked your shit like his life depended on it.
You barely make it to âthreeâ before your voice breaks and Toji just laughs and keeps going. By the time you get to âseven,â you are drooling into the pillow, folded in half like a camp chair, mumbling about god and death and possibly taxes.
Tojiâs grunting, breath hot in your ear, and when he locks that rear chokehold in around your neck with one fucking strong arm, you straight up go boneless. Like a ragdoll. Like a little slutty puppet.
âStill got that mouth on you?â he pants into your neck. âOr did I finally fuck the brat out?â
âYâyou did,â you slur, tears in your lashes. âYou fuâfucked the alphabet out of meââ
You come. A lot.
He comes. Deep and hard, with a feral noise and a shudder that rattles your entire body.
Afterwards:
He hauls you into the shower.
You protest weakly.
He calls you âcrybaby.â you call him âcockzilla.â
He washes you roughly, but careful. Palms big and firm and steady as they run down your back. He kisses your temple when he rinses your hair.
You do the same for him. Except you add in some extra groping. He pretends to hate it.
Youâre both warm and soft and human again.
(you are, in fact, so in love. but weâre not talking about that right now.)
Now:
You are soup.
You are ruined.
Your pussy is making dial-up noises and your soul left your body fifteen minutes ago.
Tojiâs got you in his lap, one hand stroking your thigh absentmindedly, other hand still kinda pinning you by the waist like he doesnât trust you not to float away or commit another felony.
Youâre also not sure if your spine is still aligned. Or if your soul has returned to your body.
What you do know is that you canât move your legs. Not well. Not at all, actually. Theyâre kind of just⌠there. Twitching occasionally. Definitely on strike. And tojiâs the union-busting boss who just made them clock 87 hours of overtime. With no breaks.
âYou alive?â he mutters, brushing sweat-damp hair off your forehead.
You blink up at him. âBarely. You broke my brain. You did a crime.â
He grins, lazy and fucking smug. âYeah? Thatâs what you get for mouthing off.â
You smack his chest. Weakly. âAbuse. Youâll hear from my lawyer.â
Toji chuckles. âYou got a lawyer now?â
âNo,â you say, fishing for your phone, âbut I do have a customer satisfaction survey.â
Toji squints. âThe fuck?â
You pull it up. Flip the screen to him.
âPost-Dick Debrief: Brat Edition,â you say sweetly.
Q1: Did I look hot while choking on your dick?
Yes, obviously
Stunning
I saw god
You cried a little (it's okay)
Q2: How many braincells do you estimate I lost?
1
2
All of them
You took them with you
Q3: Would you describe the pussy as:
A menace
Highly delicious
Too powerful to be left unsupervised
In need of... correction đ
Q4: Would you like to leave a tip for your experience today?
10%
15%
20%
I AM broke but can offer... another kind of tip đ
Toji is staring at the screen like it personally insulted his bank account.
âWhat the fuck am I looking at?â he asks slowly.
âA survey,â you say, chewing a piece of jerky he fed you for aftercare. âRate your experience. Comments appreciated. Praise mandatory.â
He lifts a brow. âYou made this before we even fucked?â
âOf course,â you say, shrugging. âI had high hopes.â
He grunts. âBold of you.â
You look at him. âYou literally made me count the inches. What do you mean bold.â
He snorts. "Yeah. Bet that mouth wonât forget 'em either."
You grin. âNo, but my cervix might need therapy.â
He huffs a laugh, still scrolling through the form. Then pauses at the tip section.
âIâm broke,â he says bluntly. âYou want me to Venmo you $3.87?â
You make a dramatic gasp. âSo youâre saying this pussy wasnât WORTH TIPPING FORââ
Toji groans and rolls on top of you again, pinning your wrists down.
âIâll give you another kind of fuckinâ tip,â he growls, nudging your thighs apart again. âOne that goes right back in.â
He smirks, presses a kiss to your collarbone. âGuess I gotta re-fill out that survey, huh?â
You look up at him through your lashes. âMaybe this time Iâll make a loyalty punch card.â
He snorts. âFifth nutâs free?â
âOnly if you say please.â
He growls into your throat. âYouâre lucky I like brats.â
You wink. âYouâre lucky I like felons.â
You were seeing colors, and not just the sexy RGB ones you saw behind your eyelids every time Gojo did that thing with his tongue.
No, no. You were seeing cosmic, interdimensional, 5D shit.
God personally gave you a high five, and then left you to perish under that white-haired menace.
The bed was in pieces.
Not âwobbly headboardâ pieces. No. Like wooden shrapnel embedded into the drywall pieces.
Your knees wereâgone. Your neck was at an angle it shouldnât be, your pussy was⌠well, she had been through war.
And Gojo? Gojo looked like he just got a massage. Glowing. Shirtless. Muscles flexing with every breath. Hair a mess. Blue eyes still doing that glowy thing that made you feel like maybe he was trying to ascend you to another plane again. You were not ready.
He was humming. Actually humming. A happy little tune, like he hadnât just rearranged your guts with cursed technique-enhanced strokes. Like he hadnât grabbed your ankles mid-missionary and literally bent time around your clit.
You were cradled into his chest, naked and swaddled in the very last towel you had left becauseâagainâbed? Decimated. And Gojo had the nerve to pet your hair like he had been the victim.
âBabe,â you croaked. âI think I left my soul in my uterus.â
âAw, it was in the way anyway,â he said sweetly. âNow thereâs more room for me~.â
You were too tired to bonk him. Your bones? Were jelly. Your organs? Rearranged. Your will to live? Floating somewhere in the corner of the room, probably clutching a support beam and whispering prayers to the jujutsu gods.
You shifted slightly. Winced. "Ow."
Gojo perked up instantly. âToo much?â
ââŚNo,â you said hoarsely. âIâm just learning how to walk again. Donât mind me.â
He snorted and kissed your forehead. âTold you not to challenge the Six Eyes, princess.â
You glared at him from your makeshift cocoon. âYou broke the bed.â
âEnhancement technique, baby.â He grinned, proud. âWas so worth it.â
You made a mental note to never let him touch cursed energy during sex again unless you wanted to explode.
But enough of that. You had work to do. Scientific work. Important data collection that simply could not wait.
With a Herculean effort, you unwrapped the towel from your cocoon and reached for your phone on the floorâbarely missed the shattered corner of the nightstand. (RIP to the nightstand. He didnât deserve that.)
Gojo, ever nosy, leaned over your shoulder with a curious look. âWhatcha doinâ? Texting your funeral director?â
âNo,â you said, unlocking your phone and opening the form.
His eyes narrowed as the pastel-colored screen popped up. âWait. Is thatââ
âYes,â you said seriously. âPost-Sexual Performance Evaluation Form. Version 3.2.â
Gojoâs lips twitched. âThere have been multiple versions.â
âYes.â You pointed to the title. âI take data very seriously.â
He blinked. âIs this about me?â
You turned to him slowly, dramatically. âNo. This is about me. Iâm the subject.â
ââŚOh,â he said, visibly confused. âWaitâwhat???â
You held the phone up like a clipboard and cleared your throat. âName one word to describe your experience of me, tonight. Donât overthink it.â
He blinked again. âUhhh. Holy.â
You nodded solemnly. âMmm. Good choice. I did cry out to God at least twice.â
âThree times,â he corrected. âAnd once to Nanami, which was weird, but Iâm not judging.â
You gave him a look. âHeâs stoic. Itâs a kink.â
âRemind me to never make eye contact with him again.â
You cleared your throat. âNext question: On a scale of 1 to 5â5 being âdestroyed my soul and Iâd thank herââhow would you rate the head?â
Gojo didnât even hesitate. âInfinity.â
ââŚThatâs not an option.â
âI am the option.â
You side-eyed him. âFine. 5 with sparkles. Got it.â You tapped it in. âNext: What was your favorite moment of the evening?â
Gojo flopped back dramatically onto the pile of pillow casualties. âOoohhh, thatâs hard. I meanâwhen you started sobbing during reverse cowgirlââ
âI WAS OVERWHELMED.â
ââbut also when I cursed techniqueâd your clit and your eyes went white like a demon was leaving your body.â
âThat oneâs going in my memoir.â
âOh! And the part where the bed cracked under us and you said, and I quote, âFuck a headboard, Iâm seeing GOD.ââ
ââŚAre you proud of yourself?â
âBaby, Iâm about to make this my LinkedIn bio.â
You scribbled that answer in with a satisfied hum.
He peeked over your shoulder again. âWhatâs next?â
âDescribe my ass in three adjectives.â
âJuicy. Divine. World-ending.â
You raised an eyebrow. âWorld-ending?â
He gave you the most deadpan look. âThe way it bounced when I hit it from the side? I almost died.â
ââŚFair.â
You tapped that in.
Gojo leaned in close now, nosing at your cheek. His voice dropped just enough to make your toes curl (again). âAre you gonna ask me to fill out a form for you?â
You smirked. âNah. Your dick already signed the guestbook five times.â
He wheeze-laughed. Absolutely cackled. Clutched his stomach and rolled like youâd just hit him with a âyour momâ joke in 7th grade. âBABEâno wait. Waitââguestbookâ is INSANEââ
You patted his cheek lovingly. âShhh. Science is happening.â
âI'm in love with a psychopath.â
âAhem. Final question: Did this experience make you fall deeper in love with me, and if so, how will you show it?â
Gojo looked at you. His grin softenedâjust a little. His arm slid around your waist, pulled you against him again, all warm and lazy now. âIâll show it,â he murmured, voice dropping to that low timbre that made your legs twitch, âby fixing your damn bed, drawing you a bath, feeding you strawberries in the tub, and then asking if we can do it again tomorrow.â
You stared at him.
ââŚYou wanna break another bed?â
He kissed your shoulder. âIâll buy you five.â
You looked down at your phone.
Form Completed. Response Submitted.
You shut it off and rolled over to wrap yourself in Gojo like he was the blanket and the mattress and the room itself. âYouâre the worst,â you mumbled into his collarbone.
âIâm the best,â he whispered back.
ââŚYeah. You kinda are.â
Shrine Maiden Pussy Hits Different.
Like. Listen.
You were warned. The moment you let Suguru Geto put his hands on youâreally put his hands on you, not the polite little touches and idle petting he usually reserved for his sweet, holy little priestessâyou knew something was going to snap. Somewhere between his mouth on your thigh and his fingers still dripping wet with your slick while he kissed a prayer into your skin like a sacrament, something went very, very wrong.
Because Suguru Geto?
Suguru Geto fucked you like he hated you.
Like your pussy owed him money.
Like he was punishing you for praying to anyone but him.
And you liked it. You loved it. You are no longer the same person you were before. That version of you? She died. Perished. Ascended. Is floating in nirvana right now, wearing a commemorative hoodie that says "I Got Destroyed On The Altar And All I Got Was This Lousy Post-Nut Clarity."
You donât remember how many positions he folded you intoâmostly because your brain stopped processing human thought around orgasm #3. He manhandled you like he owned you, like your body was something to use, and it wasnât just the strengthâit was the way he did it.
Like he didnât give a fuck if it hurt.
Like that was the point.
"Aw, poor thing," heâd said with a saccharine, infuriating mockery of a coo, dragging his cockhead over your spent, twitching entrance for the fourth round. âYou wanted to be good, didnât you?â
You whimpered something. A prayer, a plea, a garbled little noise that may have included his name, the words âIâll behave,â and maybe even âPlease, Iâm tryingââ
But Geto only smiled. Tilted his head and smiled, strands of hair clinging to the sweat on his neck, eyes dark and mouth mean.
âToo bad, sweetheart. Being good doesnât mean you donât get punished.â
And then he bit you. Again.
He bit your shoulder, your thigh, your titâGod help you, he had fangs, didnât he? There were actual bite marks down your ribs. You were positive he had rearranged your guts and taken notes while he was in there.
By the time he was done with you, the shrine was desecrated, your thighs were shaking like you were going through exorcism withdrawals, and you were soaked in every kind of fluid. Bodily and otherwise.
Suguru Geto fucked you like he was trying to replace your soul with his cum.
And unfortunately?
Mission accomplished.
So, there you are now.
Your legs? Not working. Youâre draped across the altar like a spent offering, still twitching, still leaking, still absolutely fucked out of your goddamn mind. Your hair is a mess. Your body feels like it was rolled in candle wax and whispered about in Latin. Geto is sitting beside you, smoking. (Where the fuck did he even get that cigarette? Did he summon it??)
And your phone is in your hand.
Somewhere in your sex-melted neurons, you remember a sacred duty. A higher calling.
You unlock it. Open Google Forms. Type with trembling fingers.
You hand it to him.
ââŚWhatâs this?â he says, glancing down, voice low and hoarse, a little smug but mostly curious. His hairâs a mess, half-up, half-fallen, bite marks on his neck from when you lost your goddamn mind and yanked it mid-round five. His lips are still red. Still smirking. Still tasting like you.
âA⌠survey,â you say weakly, blinking at him with all the life of a damp washcloth. âFor my⌠performance.â
He stares.
You blink again. Maybe drool a little.
He slowly turns the screen towards himself.
"POST-NUT PERFORMANCE EVALUATIONâ˘ď¸"
â¨â¨Rate your experience today on the shrine! Be honest, I am fragile. â¨â¨
How would you rate the service?
𼺠Exceeded expectations
đł Went feral, thx
đŤ I saw god
đ I canât walk
Was the shrine adequately defiled?
Yes
Also yes
Itâs currently haunted
Would you like to leave a tip?
đ° Money
đ Dick again
â High five
đ A prayer to forgive me for what I let you do to me
Additional comments:
â(eg. I no longer fear death, thank you.)â
Getoâs mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.
He looks at you. Then the phone. Then you.
ââŚAre you fucking serious?â he says.
You nod solemnly.
He scrolls. Silence. More silence.
Thenâ
ââŚâItâs currently haunted.ââ
He barks out a laugh. Honest to God, deep-chested, spine-warming laugh. You feel it in your bones. Itâs not fair. Itâs not right that this man can go from soul-breaking dick demon to adorably amused priest-boyfriend in under a minute.
âYouâre insane,â he says, shaking his head as he clicks through the options. âAbsolutely fucking deranged. How are you still conscious?â
You smile hazily. âI have⌠very strong bones.â
âYou were literally crying because I said âgood girlâ and spat in your mouthââ
âI said what I said. Fill out the form, Suguru.â
He snorts. Checks âI saw godâ and âAlso yesâ for the shrine haunting. Pauses at the âtipâ section. Slowly checks âDick again.â Looks over at you.
âAgain? Baby, you canât even feel your legs.â
ââŚSo thatâs a no?â
He growls. Growls. "You really want to do this again? You want to end up comatose on this altar for real?"
"Maybe I have a kink for religious trauma,â you shoot back.
âYouâre gonna have a kink for hospital beds if you keep mouthing off.â
âOh no,â you whisper, pressing a hand to your heart, âNot the ER sex arcâŚâ
He lunges at you and you shriek-laugh, legs flopping uselessly as he grabs your ankle and drags you back across the altar like the shameless little hellspawn you are.
You are definitely going to hell.
But at least you'll have five-star dick on the way down.
You knew you were in for it the moment your yukata got ripped down the middle like it owed him money.
Not even a preamble. No warning. JustâRIPâand Sukuna's voice in your ear like smoke and brimstone:
"You won't be needing that anymore, little pest."
Well. Excuse you.
Now you're here. Somewhere between heaven, hell, and a realm of overstimulation where your brain has been entirely replaced by white noise and the alphabet no longer exists.
Because here's the thing about True Form Sukuna:
FOUR. FUCKING. ARMS.
Two of them holding you in place. One gripping your jaw like you're something fragile (he lies). The last? Alternating between teasing, pinning, choking, and pulling your thighs apart like he's trying to break you in half.
And TWO. FUCKING. DICKS.
One already had you creaming when he folded you in half like a napkin. The second? The second made you see a version of God that moaned back.
(And the MOUTH on his stomach??? THE STOMACH MOUTH. THAT THING IS THE DEVIL. It LICKED your clit while you rode him and SMIRKED when you came. You're suing.)
By the time it's over? You're toast. Puddle of melted girl. Legs trembling. Pussy bruised. Eyes glazed.
Sukuna? Not even breaking a sweat.
"You're alive," he says, amused.
You wheeze. "Barely."
AFTERCARE TIME... kind of:
You end up in the bath together. Honestly, your brain is soup. Your body is soup. You are soup. Welcome to Sukunaâs special: human girl stew.
You're floating in the water, arms barely moving, skin kissed by a thousand faint bite marks, bruises blooming like little purple constellations all over your thighs, your collarbone, your titties.
Sukuna with one leg out like the arrogant bastard he is, while one of his lower arms casually rubs circles into your thigh like he's not the reason you're semi-comatose.
You scowl at him, chest rising and falling as you attempt your fifth breath in a row without audibly wheezing. (It doesn't work.)
âYou,â you rasp, voice wrecked and crispy like fried seaweed. âDestroyed. My. Yukata.â
Sukuna doesnât even blink. âThat flimsy rag? It ripped like wet paper. Not my fault you wore tissue paper to a ritual sacrifice.â
âIT WAS COTTON BLEND!â
He shrugs. All four shoulders shrug. You want to die.
âYou should thank me. Youâll never wear another one again. Gonna be limping for a week. You're welcome.â
You try to splash him. You miss. You almost drown instead. You flop back against the bath edge and wheeze.
The smug bastard leans over, one handâbig, veiny, and frankly illegal in five prefecturesâreaching for your face. For a second, you flinch, thinking heâs gonna grab your chin and whisper some new filthy punishment into your ear. But no.
He just tucks your wet hair behind your ear.
...
You stare at him.
âAre you⌠being gentle?â
Sukuna scoffs like you called him a virgin.
âDonât be ridiculous. You're just weak and pathetic after getting split open like a festival melon. Iâm letting you recover.â
Then a pause... and:
"I should break you more often," he hums.
"I'm not a glowstick," you mutter. "I canât light up unless you shake me first."
He grins. Sharp. Dangerous. Still fucking fond. His top set of arms pull you closer.
"You like it."
You make a noncommittal noise and nuzzle into his chest. His skin is hot. Muscles for miles. The tattoos on his body practically hum under your fingers. You swear one of the mouths on his shoulders chuckles.
Then.
Then.
You wiggle out of his hold. Grab your phone from the nearby table. Open up a Google Form you had pre-filled and saved in your drafts for this exact moment.
You crawl back into his lap. Flash the screen.
"So. Feedback time."
Sukuna stares.
"What. The fuck. Is that."
"A post-sex survey," you say sweetly. "For me. Your human plaything, remember?"
He blinks. Once. Twice.
Reaches for the phone with two fingersâlike it's some kind of ancient relic. His claws dwarf it. One pinky alone could probably break the entire device.
He squints at the screen. All four eyes.
POST-COITAL SURVEY: HOW DID YOUR HUMAN DO?
Q1: Was the experience satisfactory?
Yes
Yes, with blood-curdling enthusiasm
I saw the edge of existence and she waved back
Q2: Did your human make pretty noises?
Yes, very pleasing to my curse ears
I recorded them for later
Q3: Were there any injuries?
Minor
Delicious
I hope there are scars
Q4: Would you like to leave a TIP for your service experience today?
15%
20%
Two tips đ
Sukuna stares at you.
Stares at the form.
Back at you.
Then back at the form.
He is so visibly confused.
"This is a thing humans do now?"
You nod solemnly. "Standard protocol. Helps build trust."
He glances back at the phone. His lips twitch. "And this 'tip' part..."
"Like money," you say, barely holding in your laugh.
He scoffs. âLeave aâ?! I gave you the privilege of getting fucked by a god. Thatâs the tip. You want coin for getting fucked into a new religion?"
"Well. I am a five-star experience."
Sukuna grins. Wicked. All teeth. One hand grabs your ass.
"Fine," he says, voice dripping filth. "I'll give you two tips."
You raise a brow. "Oh?"
He leans in, mouth by your ear.
"The tips of both my cocks. In your throat."
You SNORT.
Collapse onto his chest cackling like a demon.
"YOUâRE DISGUSTING!"
"You started it, little pest."
You wipe a tear from your eye. Reach up and peck one of his cheek-eyes. It narrows, pleased.
"Admit it," you grin. "You love me."
He grunts.
"I tolerate you."
(He tucks you into his side and lets you stay there. His stomach mouth licks your shoulder like a pet cat.)
You're grinning like a fool. Completely fucked out. Survey sent.
Sukuna doesnât delete it.
He does, however, start filling it out when you fall asleep.
(It auto-saves. Youâll find it in the morning. Under the comment box he wrote: âStop being hot, Iâm trying to stay evil.â)
God. Youâre in love with a cursed idiot.
Listen. You didnât mean to ruin him.
You really didnât.
You just meant to ride him a little, maybe pull his hair, leave some scratch marks to remind him whoâs in charge.
And Chosoâsweet, lovely, emotionally constipated Chosoâlooked at you with those big wet anime eyes like, âYou want to go on top?â
Like it was some sacred ritual. Like you were about to crown him King of the Universe. Like he was LUCKY to even be beneath you.
And you were like.
âOh Iâm gonna ruin you.â
So hereâs the thing about Choso. Heâs sweet. Heâs so fucking sweet. Heâs whispering thank yous while you sink down on him like youâre the one doing him a favor. Heâs grabbing at your hips like youâre evaporating. Heâs moaning with this messy kind of reverence like heâs not entirely sure this is allowed, but god, he hopes it is.
And when you scratch down his chest with your nails and pull his hair back to whisper, âMine,â into his mouth?
This man WHIMPERS.
Whimpers. Like. A sound came out of him. From the soul. The lower abdomen.
You ride him into the fucking void.
Heâs gripping the headboard. Begging. Not even words, just sounds. Babygirl noises.
âYouâre doing so good,â you purr, grinding down hard, deliberately slow. âSo loud for me, huh?â
He covers his face. Moans into his palm.
You yank it away. âI wanna see that face when I make you come.â
AND HE DOES.
Like a fucking fire hydrant.
You laugh. Youâre having the time of your life.
Heâs ruined. Already looks like he cried a little. And you? You are THRIVING.
But then.
Then.
CHOSO FLIPS YOU OVER.
You donât even register the switch until your knees are by your ears and heâs got one hand tangled in your hair and the other gripping your thigh like heâs trying to implant a tracking chip.
He mutters, âSâmy turn, right?â
Oh. Oh no. OH YES.
He rails you.
He RAILS you.
And heâs still sweet about it, whispering your name like a prayer, but also??? Heâs possessed. Like âI died once and Iâm not doing it again without turning you into a cumsockâ levels of aggressive.
âIâI thought I was on top,â you gasp, barely coherent.
Heâs breathless, panting, so soft.
âI wanted to feel you under me.â
SIR-YOU'RE GONNA NEED TO PAY FOR THERAPY AFTER THIS.
At some pointâyou lose count of time. Of orgasms. Of which limb is where.
He makes you come until your vision is fuzzy. He praises you like itâs a kink (it is), and when you scratch his back so hard he hisses, you SWEAR he fucks you harder. Freak.
Eventually, you go limp. Done. Finished. You see God, and She high-fives you. Then you see Chosoâs sweet, flushed face hovering above you like he didnât just annihilate your cervix.
âYou okay?â he asks softly, pushing your hair back.
âYeah,â you rasp, âjust need⌠a moment. Or a shovel.â
He kisses your nose. âI can carry you to the shower.â
âRomantic,â you say. âIs that before or after the survey?â
He pauses. âThe⌠what?â
You weakly pull your phone from the nearby pillow, open the Google Form youâve had saved in your Notes app since you decided Choso had âfirst dick appointmentâ potential.
âPlease fill out this anonymous form,â you say sweetly. âItâs called âHow Did I Do? đđŚââ
Q1: Was the pussy
Feral
Majestic
God-tier
Forbidden fruit of Eden
Q2: Did the riding make you see ghosts?
Yes
Yes, but they were nice
I forgot my own name
I think I saw my brother
Q3: Were the scratches on your back out of pocket?
No, I liked it
I deserve worse
Mark me like a canvas
Can we go again
Q4: Would you like to leave a tip?
10%
15%
20%
Iâm broke but Iâll make you breakfast
Choso is blinking. Slowly. Like a confused baby deer.
âYou⌠made a survey?â he says, voice soft.
âMmhmm,â you say, nuzzling into his chest. âFor feedback. Very professional. Iâm ISO certified.â
âIs it anonymous?â he asks, concerned. âIs someone else reading this?â
âNo,â you giggle, âitâs about me. Not you.â
He stares. The screen. Then you. Then back to the screen.
âI donâtâdo you want a real answer? Or a joke? Orâwait. Are you serious? Is this, like⌠a sex thing? Is this a dominance thing? Like, âfill out my Google Form, slutâ?â
You start cackling.
âOh no-,â you wheeze, âIâM JOKING. You shouldâve seen your FACE.â
He blinks again. His ears are so red.
âOh,â he says softly. âOkay.â
You giggle and kiss his cheek. âYouâre so cute when youâre confused.â
âI thought you were gonna make me⌠write a paragraph review or something.â
âOh my god,â you gasp, rolling over him. âNOW IâM GONNA.â
He groans, dragging a hand down his face. âPlease donât post it anywhere.â
âI wonât. Probably.â
He whines, muffling it into your shoulder. âYouâre so mean to me.â
You stroke his hair. âAnd yet you begged to be under me.â
He grumbles. âYeah, âcause youâre scary.â
You smile.
âGood,â you whisper. âNow fill out the survey before I fuck you again.â
Youâve killed a lot of people. Likeâa lot.
Strangled a cartel lieutenant with her own belt once. Clean shot through a diplomatâs temple with a rifle you assembled in under ninety seconds. One time you poisoned a man just by kissing him (thanks, custom lipstick). You're not new to adrenaline, to high-stakes, to... messy.
But this?
This is the messiest you've ever been.
Shiu Kong just rearranged your soul and now youâre staring at the ceiling of some nondescript safehouse while your legs do this weird twitchy thing every time he exhales near you.
Youâre a trained killer and this manâyour handlerâjust made you come so hard you saw static. Five times. Maybe six?? You lost count somewhere between the choking and the part where he bent you over the sink and said, "If youâre gonna act like a brat, Iâll fuck you like one."
No one warned you Shiu Kong fucks like a tired, overworked demigod with a deep resentment for incompetence.
And you? You just happen to be his favorite little killer for hire. So guess what that means.
Earlier...
"You know the mission briefing said subtle, right?"
Heâs got his arms crossed, suit pants rumpled like heâd been sitting too long, tie just barely loosened. And the look in his eye? That half-lidded, already-annoyed expression? Yeah. Thatâs the look he gives you right before he reads you for absolute filth.
"I was subtle," you said. "Up until the stabbing part."
"Subtle doesnât include seven fucking witnesses and a goddamn fire alarm."
You smiled at him. "Technicalities."
You expected him to sigh. Maybe hand you another envelope with your next job and tell you to clean up your mess.
What you didnât expect was him stepping in, cornering you against the concrete wall of the safehouse, and saying low against your mouth:
âYou want to act like a headache, sweetheart? Fine. Letâs see if you can still smart off with my cock halfway down your throat.â
Oh.
Oh no.
Now.
Youâve got one arm flopped off the bed, one leg somewhere near Shiuâs shin, and you canât remember your own name.
Heâs shirtless, somehow still looking composed while his knuckles brush your hipbone. You should be afraid of how fast he made you fold. Youâre not. Youâre a slut. And also emotionally unstable, but mostly a slut.
âStill alive?â he murmurs.
You let out a croaky â...eh.â
He huffs. You think itâs a laugh. Maybe. Either way, your brain is pudding and youâre not even embarrassed.
You roll onto your stomach with a noise that can only be described as disrespected furniture. Thenâwith the energy of someone who just emerged from a particularly intense spiritual awakeningâyou paw around for your phone on the floor.
âNo,â you mumble, unlocking your phone. âI need you to fill something out.â
He blinks. "Excuse me?"
You thrust the phone at him with the last of your strength. âHere. It's a Google Form.â
He stares at it.
You watch him squint. Then frown.
Then stare at you like youâve just presented him with a tax audit and a pregnancy test at the same time.
ââPost-Encounter Evaluation for Elite Operativesâ?â
âYes.â
ââŚWhy is the first question âHow satisfied were you with my holes today (scale of 1-5)?ââ
âIâm gathering feedback.â
Youâre trying so hard not to smile, but your lips twitch anyway. Itâs either that or drool again.
Shiu doesnât laugh. He never laughs. But his nostrils flare and he exhales through his nose like a man trying to process something deeply confusing and mildly arousing.
âQuestion two,â he reads aloud, deadpan: âDid I make you feel like a powerful man who could destroy the world with his cum alone?ââ
â...Well. Did I?â
Shiu blinks at you.
Then, after a beat, he actually tilts his head. Like he's genuinely thinking about it. Which is insulting but also hilarious.
âYou are completely useless right now,â he says, glancing at your limp body. âSo. I suppose thatâs a yes.â
You beam.
âKeep going.â
He scrolls. "âWere the sounds I made appropriately slutty and grateful for your dick?â Jesus Christââ
âYou were incredible. Iâm just trying to be professional about my brand.â
Shiu lowers the phone. Looks at you over the screen. His expression? That deeply unimpressed, handler-through-hell look that says: I hate that this is working on me.
"...Thereâs a tip section."
âYes.â You blink up at him like a koala on tranquilizers. âIt accepts Apple Pay.â
He actually chokes. Not laughs. Chokes. Itâs like hearing God cough.
âYou want me to tip you.â
âI was a very good girl,â you say. âAnd youâre not paying me for this. This was a... personal project.â
âPersonal?â His voice drops. âThat wasnât personal, sweetheart. That was a field test.â
You whimper.
God, why is that so hot?
âI needed to know what happens when youâre overstimulated and half-feral,â he continues casually, like heâs reviewing your resume. âFor future assignments. In case I need you compromised.â
Your thighs clench.
This is fine. You're fine. You're a professional.
...Youâre also going to need like 72 hours and an ice pack.
âDid I pass?â you whisper.
He leans down until his mouth is against your ear, voice a quiet purr:
âYouâre lucky I didnât fucking fail you on the spot. No composure. No stamina. You begged like a brat who didnât read the briefing.â
You shudder.
Then groan into the sheets, face down. âSir, I literally cannot feel my pelvic floor. Can you please just fill out the form?â
Shiu sits back. Looks at your phone. Quiet.
Then?
He types.
You try not to giggle as you hear the soft click of his fingers tapping on the screen.
"...You selected âExtremely Satisfiedâ for my holes.â
âI did.â
â...And you left a comment that just says, âJesus Fucking Christ.ââ
âAccurate.â
You pause. âWhatâd you put for the tip?â
He glances at you.
Then back at the screen.
Then slowly... presses a button.
You hear the tiny ping of a successful payment.
"...You tipped me fifty dollars?â you ask, stunned.
âYou earned it.â
You're quiet for a second. Then, a beat later, in a completely wrecked voice:
"...Handler of the year.â
Shiuâs mouth twitches. His version of a smile.
Then he sets the phone down, rolls on top of you again, and murmurs:
âDonât get cocky. Youâve got another mission tomorrow.â
You whimper into the mattress. âI canât walk.â
âThatâs your problem.â
submitted response to your google form:
Holes Satisfaction? 5/5
Did I feel like a powerful man with world-ending cum? Unfortunately, yes.
Was the agent appropriately slutty? Debatably. Lacked professionalism. Good vocals.
Room for improvement? Didnât cry. Next time, tears.
Tip: $50. Donât spend it all on lube.
Additional Comments:
Please stop sending me forms.
Also, clear your browser history.
You once called him a âwalking prosecution kink in a three-piece suitâ to your best friend over drinks.
You also once said youâd rather eat your own foot than sleep with him.
And now, post-fuckageddon?
You're not sure you could eat solid food if you tried. Let alone walk.
Your soul is hovering outside your body, sipping tea politely and waiting for your system to reboot.
Hiromi is beside youânaked, warm, freshly showered, and dangerously tender. Which is a war crime, frankly. Heâs rubbing slow, absent circles into your thigh while you lay face-first on his stupid crisp white sheets, drooling like a newborn and trying not to moan every time you remember what he did to you.
Five times, bitch. Five. You came like he was getting paid by the orgasm.
The first time? Fingers.
The second? His mouth. (His nose, really. That thing deserves its own license to kill.)
Third? With your legs up and your arms pinned.
Fourth? Bent over the fucking dresser.
Fifth? From just the way he kissed you and talked to you while he was still inside.
("You donât have to prove anything, you already won. Let me take care of youâ")
STOP. You canât mentally afford a sixth.
âSo,â Hiromi says, voice all low and calm like he didnât wreck your shit less than an hour ago.
You hum into the pillow.
âI hope I didnâtâgo too far.â
You pick your head up just enough to blink at him. âHiromi. I literally begged you to go further.â
He smiles. Softly. Like a smug cherub who knows exactly how tight he made you scream.
âI just wanted to make sure I didnât⌠you know. Overwhelm you.â
You snort. âYou gave me two orgasms before even putting it in. I was overwhelmed at the entrance exam, my guy.â
He squeezes your thigh. "I just want you to feel safe.â
You want to say something witty.
But all that comes out is a pitiful, genuine little: â...Youâre so good at sex.â
Which makes him go so red itâs illegal. This man has cross-examined murderers with the composure of a glacier, and you made him blush harder than any closing statement.
But okay.
Enough. You didnât build your entire reputation as his courtroom nemesisâthe only defense attorney whoâs ever flustered him on recordâfor this to be all hearts and roses.
So.
You reach for your phone.
He watches with curiosity as you open your notes app, tap something, then pass it to him like youâre handing off a subpoena.
âHere,â you mumble.
He takes it. Squints. Blinks once.
Then reads aloud.
ââPost-Coital Performance Evaluation for Your Favorite Legal Rival (Anonymous Feedback Welcome)ââŚ?â
You bury your face back in the pillow. âItâs a Google Form. I made it this morning just in case I died.â
Hiromi is frozen.
Like actual lag-on-the-hard-drive frozen.
"Question one," he reads slowly, bewildered: "âHow satisfied were you with my holes today (scale of 1â5)?â"
You lift one finger. âBe honest.â
His mouth opens. Then closes. Then opens again. You think he may be buffering.
âQuestion two,â he continues, tone becoming increasingly⌠confused husband. ââDid the defendant perform with enthusiasm and skill?ââ
You nod solemnly. âIâll need citations.â
ââŚQuestion three: âWere the sounds I made appropriately slutty and legally distinct from what I say in court?â"
You peek at him. He looks like he just found out he was dating a BuzzFeed quiz. A very slutty one.
"I've neverâ" he starts, then cuts himself off, flustered. âNo oneâs ever given me aâperformance review before.â
You shrug weakly. âYouâre my rival. I need metrics.â
You pause. Then murmur: âAlso I gave you very good head as an apology for joking about your hand-holding thing, so I feel like I deserve something.â
He squints. "That blowjob was vengeance."
"It was reparations," you correct. "You looked so sad, Hiromi. I had to fix it with throat."
He covers his face with one hand. âYouâre insane.â
âYou held my hand while railing me within an inch of my life, sir. We all have our coping strategies.â
After a minute, he actually⌠starts filling it out.
You hear little tapping sounds. The softest clicks. The man is legitimately answering. Your toes curl.
You grin into the pillow. âWhatâd you put for the holes question?â
He glances at you. âSix.â
You snort. âThatâs not even on the scale.â
âIt should be.â
Then he hesitates.
"...I donât know how to answer this one."
You peek up. ââDid you feel emotionally held while also being physically annihilated?ââ
"Yes. But that feels inappropriate to admit.â
You hold out your hand.
He takes it immediately, like a reflex, and squeezes.
You both pause.
ââŚSo thatâs a yes,â you say.
He makes a quiet, wounded noise in his throat.
âI just think,â he mutters softly, âif Iâm ruining someone in bed, I should at least be nice to them afterward. Thatâs just basic decency.â
You blink.
Then smirk. âWow. Gentleman dick. Youâre like the legal worldâs favorite war crime.â
Hiromi ignores you and goes back to filling out the survey.
A minute passes. You close your eyes, finally relaxing.
Thenâ
â...You put a tip section,â he says slowly. âAnd a line that says: âCash, Venmo, or Apple Pay accepted. I also take compliments.ââ
âMoney or praise,â you mumble, half-asleep. âIâm a modern woman.â
Hiromi sighs. Then taps a few more times.
You hear the ping of a payment.
Then he murmurs, âYou just got a Venmo for $69.69.â
Your eyes pop open. âYou tipped me?!â
âYou said you take Apple Pay!â
âThat was a joke!â
âI didnât want to be rude!â
submitted response to your google form:
Holes Satisfaction? 6/5
Did the defendant perform with enthusiasm and skill? Yes. Devastatingly so. Still recovering.
Was emotional + physical annihilation achieved? Absolutely. Recommend with caution.
Tip? $69.69.
Additional Comments:
Please donât show this to anyone.
Also, I think Iâm in love with you.
But Iâll object if you bring that up in court.
A/N:.... sorry. this was inspired by a dear friend of mine telling me that she did this to like two of her bfs. very funny tbh. also this isn't proof read annnddd sorry for being late again. also i messed up a couple areas that i meant to indent and not put in bold, but i have a headache so i'll fic it later
Warnings: baby talk, slight breeding kink, depravity, sweet nanami (thoughtful husband urgh), dramatic Y/N, cringe content imo, but smut basically. Crack, idk man i don't even know what this is atp
The day had started like every other: calm, serene, too perfect.
Nanami Kento, your husband extraordinaire, had gone about his morning routine with his usual quiet precisionâcoffee brewed, paper read, apron tied. And as you watched him hum softly to himself while slicing fruit, your bratty streak reared its head.
Heâs too calm. Too composed. Letâs ruin that.
You werenât about to let today be one of those blissfully calm mornings. No, today, chaos called your name.
Why?
Maybe you were bored. Maybe the perfection of your husband annoyed you (in the most loving way, of course).
You stomped into the kitchen with an exaggerated huff. Nanami, as composed as ever, glanced up, his golden eyes softening at the sight of you. His sharp jawline looking unfairly good in the soft morning light. His apron was tied neatly, because of course it was, and there wasnât a hair out of place on his golden head. The only thing that kinda stood out, was the slight hickeys on his neck (cutesy of you of course).
âGood morning,â he greeted, voice deep and velvety.
And so, it began.
You planted your hands on your hips.
âKento, you didnât refill the soap dispenser in the bathroom.â
He blinked.
âAh. My apologies. Iâll do that after breakfast.â
âŚThat was it?
âYou also forgot to close the rice jar last night,â you added, upping the stakes.
âNoted,â he replied smoothly, setting down the knife. âIâll make sure to close it properly from now on. Thank you for pointing it out.â
Your eye twitched. What? That was it? No defensive response? No hint of irritation?
The nerve of this man. How dare he be a calm and collected man.
âThatâs it? Youâre not even going to argue?â
âWhy would I argue with you, darling?â he asked, his tone as calm as a summer breeze.
You crossed your arms, glaring at him like a cat about to pounce. âBecause Iâm clearly picking a fight!â
He tilted his head slightly, studying you. âWhy would you want to fight with me?â
The genuine confusion in his voice made your frustration spike. Heâs impossible! You stormed over, poking a finger into his (annoyingly firm) chest.
âIâm bored, Kento! I want a reaction! Get mad at me, throw a pillow, something!â
âHmm,â he murmured, looking almost thoughtful. âIf you needed to burn off energy, you couldâve just said so.â
Your brows furrowed. âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
âIt means,â he said, leaning in slightly, âthat I could take you to the bedroom and fuck that energy out of you.â
What.
You froze, heat rushing to your face.
ââŚExcuse me?!â
He raised a brow.
âWouldnât that be more effective than starting a fight?â
âNanami Kento!â you squeaked, pointing an accusatory finger (again) at him. âYou canât just say things like that!â
âWhy not?â he asked, utterly unbothered. âWeâre married.â
You opened your mouth to argue but quickly shut it when he took a step toward you.
âNope, nope, nope!â you yelped, spinning on your heel and fleeing the kitchen.
âRunning wonât help, darling,â he called after you, his tone warm with amusement.
You bolted into the living room, skidding around the couch.
âStay back, Nanami! Iâm warning you!â
You cringed as you used his- well yours too- last name.
âAnd what exactly are you warning me about?â he asked, rounding the corner at a leisurely pace.
You darted the other way, circling the couch like a panicked rabbit. âIâllâIâll scream!â
He smirked faintly.
âGo ahead. The neighbors know weâre married.â
You gawked at him. âWhy are you like this?!â
âWhy are you like this?â he countered, watching your antics with the air of a man enjoying himself far too much. He paused mid-chase, casually pulling out his phone.
âAre you checking your phone right now?!â you screeched. âIn the middle of a fight?!â
He glanced at the screen, his lips quirking upward. âOh. That explains it.â
You froze. âExplains what?â
âYouâre ovulating,â he said matter-of-factly, holding up his phone as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
ââŚIâm sorry, what?â You stared at him, heat rushing to your face for the second time that morning. âYou⌠have my cycle on your phone?â
âOf course,â he said simply, pocketing his phone. âIâm a good husband.â
You blinked. âThatâs⌠weird.â
âItâs responsible,â he countered smoothly.
âItâs weird!â
âIt isn't.â
âYes it is! Creep!!â
âNo my love,â he said again, his tone infuriatingly calm.
You groaned, throwing your head back. âKento, youâre soââ
âEfficient? Attentive? Handsome?â he offered.
âAnnoying!â you shot back, but your face betrayed you, burning with embarrassmentâand, much to your dismay, a little bit of something else.
âHmm,â he mused, taking a deliberate step forward. âYouâre flushed.â
âNo, Iâm not!â you lied, backing up.
âOh, you are,â he said, his voice dropping an octave. âYouâre thinking about it now, arenât you?â
âThinking about what?â you squeaked.
He leaned in slightly, his eyes glinting with mischief. âAbout how I said Iâd put a baby in you yesterday.â
You froze, staring at him like heâd grown a second head.
âNanami Kento!â You sputtered, "You said you wouldn't bring that up again!"
âWhat?â he asked, entirely unrepentant. âIsnât that what you want?â
Your brain short-circuited. âIâwhatânoâyesâstop talking!â
He smirked, his expression unfairly attractive. âAh. Thatâs whatâs getting you going, isnât it?â
You sputtered, backing up as he advanced. âIâno! Stop! Youâre beingâyouâre beingââ
He cut you off, his voice calm but devastatingly firm. âIâll put you in a mating press if you keep running.â
Your jaw dropped.
âExcuse me?! Sir, how do you even know that term?â
He shrugged, his expression far too casual for someone who had just said something so obscene.
âI read.â
âNanami Kento, youâ!â
But before you could finish your protest, he scooped you up effortlessly, cradling you against his chest like a damsel in distress. âNooooo!â you wailed, clinging dramatically to the nearest doorframe.
âYouâre very dramatic for someone whoâs been married for years,â he said, carrying you toward the bedroom with infuriating ease.
âThis is different!â you cried, kicking your legs half-heartedly. âIâmâKentoooo, Iâm a pure, unwed maiden!â
He chuckled, the sound low and warm. âYouâre my wife. And youâre not escaping this time.â
You pouted, though the flutter in your chest betrayed you. âYouâre ridiculous.â
âAnd youâre mine,â he said, his lips brushing against your temple.
âFine,â you muttered, burying your face in his chest. âBut donât think this means youâve won.â
His smile was soft, but his words sent a shiver down your spine. âDarling, Iâve already won.â
*-*
The room was bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, the air heavy with the heat of the moment. You were a breathless mess beneath Nanami, the weight of his body grounding you as he moved with maddening precision. Every stroke, every touch was deliberate, calculated, and yet there was an undercurrent of something rawâsomething that was unraveling him as much as it was you.
âKento,â you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders as you tried to meet his thrusts. It was impossible to keep up with him. He was too steady, too strong, and God help you, too good.
âHm?â he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice deep and rough.
âToo much,â you whimpered, though you didnât mean it. The stretch, the pace, the heatâit was perfect, so perfect it made your head spin. Fuck- the stretch was so good, his cock filled you so perfectly, the pinkish tip fitting so snugly against your cervix.
âToo much?â he asked, and for a moment, his movements slowed, his concern flickering through the haze of desire. But then his eyes met yours, glassy with pleasure and desperation, and he smiled. It wasnât his usual reserved smileâit was something darker, more primal. âNo, darling. You can take more.â
Before you could even protest, he shifted, his hands sliding down to hook beneath your thighs. With effortless strength, he pressed your knees up toward your chest, folding you into a position that sent a bolt of heat straight to your core.
And then he thrust.
And oh fucking god.
âOh my God,â you choked out, your back arching off the bed as a broken cry escaped you.
The angle was devastating, hitting spots you didnât even know existed. Your mind went blank, your mouth opening to form words that never came.
Instead, incoherent babbles spilled from your lipsâfragments of his name, pleas, and nonsense that made no sense even to you.
âLook at you,â Nanami groaned, his pace quickening as he watched you completely fall apart beneath him. His composure was slipping, his breathing ragged, his movements losing their usual precision. âYouâre perfect. So perfect.â
âKentoâ!â You couldnât even form a coherent sentence. Your hands clawed at his arms, desperate for something to anchor you, but all you could focus on was the overwhelming sensation and the way he was staring at youâlike you were the only thing in the world.
He had looked at you that way you had first met, and the first time you kissed, and the first time you had said 'I love you', and the first time you had woken up in his arms, and the time he had asked you to move in with him, and-
âYou can take it,â he muttered, almost to himself, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he pounded into you- which made the most obsecene sounds. His usually soft eyes were dark, filled with something primal. âYouâre mine. My pretty wife. Iâm going toââ He cut himself off with a low groan, his head falling forward. âIâm going to put a baby in you.â
Your eyes snapped open, and the words sent a new wave of heat through you, making your toes curl.
âWhâwhat?â you stammered, though your body betrayed you, clenching around him in response.
He chuckled darkly, his voice dropping to a near-growl. âYou heard me. Iâll fill you upâmake you mine in every way.â
You whined, your hands flying to cover your face as the sheer filth of his words made your body tremble.
âKento-!â you protested weakly, but your body betrayed you, your hips lifting to meet his every thrust.
âOh?â he said, a smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. âThatâs whatâs driving you crazy, isnât it? The thought of me putting my child in you.â
You could only whimper in response, your mind too fogged with pleasure to deny it.
âYouâre so good for me,â he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple, his voice raw with emotion. âSo perfect. Iâll give you everything, darling. Iâll make sure you never want for anything.â
His words were a heady mix of love and lust, and you were utterly consumed by him. Your body responded to every thrust, every whisper, every touch, and soon, the coil in your stomach snapped, sending you spiraling into an earth-shattering climax.
Nanami wasnât far behind.
The sight of you coming undone, paired with the overwhelming idea of making you his in every possible way, pushed him over the edge. His movements became erratic, his groans low and guttural as he followed you into bliss.
For a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of heavy breathing. He stayed there, his forehead resting against yours, his hands gently cradling your face as he caught his breath.
When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, tender.
âYouâre incredible,â he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. âMy incredible, beautiful wife.â
You blinked up at him, your body still trembling from the intensity of it all.
âYouâre⌠insane,â you mumbled, though there was no heat behind your words.
He chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. âMaybe. But only for you.â
A/N: *cough cough* I apologies, this isn't the most slayitude work ever but tis something. i'm trying smut, even tho i don't think i'm great at it, but practice makes perfect right? Also tried smth different writing wise, but its barely visible ARGH
A/N: this is me kissing the brick before i throw it with the fic im gonna post tomorrow, i tried adding some 'traductions' to chairman meow's meows. hope its good
warnings: shitty smut
The first mistake Nanami Kento made was turning his back to you.
The second was wearing that fitted white button-up that you knew made his shoulders look like something sculpted by horny Renaissance angels with too much free time.
The man is standing at the stove like some tragic romance lead, stirring a pan of sizzling garlic mushrooms, and youâ
You, professor of comparative literature and unrepentant menace to society, are five seconds away from sinking your teeth into him like a particularly meaty edition of War and Peace.
You donât mean to be a menace.
(You do. You absolutely do.)
Nanami is standing at the stove, sleeves rolled up, apron tied with military precision, quietly existing in a way that makes you want to chew on him like a medieval prisoner gnawing on bread crust.
Heâs cooking dinner â something fragrant, something sizzling â and youâre pretty sure if you breathe in too deeply youâll go feral enough to be legally classified as a wild animal.
Chairman Meow, your furry orange demon, is stationed at Nanamiâs feet, tail swishing like an executionerâs axe. The cat is already halfway to starting a revolution for food rights.
Chairman Meow: MEEEERRRROOOOWWWW!!!
(Translation: I am STARVING and also I hate you.)
Nanami, patient saint of a man, stirs the pan. âFood will be ready in five minutes.â
You, leaning on the counter like a Victorian woman dying of consumption: âFive minutes is too long. Feed me now.â
âThe chicken isnât even cooked.â
âIâm not talking about the chicken, Kento.â
He stops. He side-eyes you like he knows exactly where this is going and regrets marrying you in this exact moment.
You push off the counter, closing the distance like a predator.
âHey,â you murmur, sliding your arms around his waist.
âMm.â Heâs not looking at you. Heâs plating asparagus like an idiot.
âDo you thinkââ your lips brush the back of his neck, ââwe could try that position from last week? You know, the one that nearly broke the bed?â
Nanami freezes. âI am sautĂŠing mushrooms.â
You press your front to his back, slow grind like youâre auditioning for Ghost, except instead of pottery itâs his ass.
âMushrooms arenât the only thing that could get sautĂŠed, if you see what I mean.â
From the floor:
Chairman Meow: MEEEYOOOOWWW!!!
(Translation: Stop grinding on my dad and give me food.)
Nanami sighs. âYouâre distracting me.â
âGood. You should be distracted. Think about it â flavored lube. Garlic parmesan. Itâs thematic.â
He visibly twitches. âThat is⌠revolting.â
You grin into his shoulder. âFine. Honey mustard?â
âStop.â
âChocolate?â
âNo.â
âOkay. Raw cookie doughââ
âKami above, woman, ENOUGH.â
You giggle like a goblin, because heâs scandalized now, jaw tight, ears faintly pink.
âAw, Kento, donât be shy. You like it when Iââ you nip at the back of his neck, ââget creative.â
He places the spatula down with the care of a man placing his will on the table before dying in battle. âI am simply trying to plate dinner.â
âPlate me instead.â
He sighs.
âWhat if,â you whisper, âyou bent me over the counter right hereââ
âNo.â He doesnât even turn around. The man has the patience of a monk, but you can see the faint blush crawling up the back of his neck.
From the floor:
Chairman Meow: MEEEEEHHHRRROOOWW!!!
(Translation: If you two start f**ing before I get fed, I will knock over every glass in this house.)
Nanami, to the cat: âSheâs worse than you.â
âOh please, the cat doesnât want to sit on yourââ
âDonât finish that sentence.â
You pout, hands roaming under his apron now, just to watch him suffer. âKentoâŚâ you whine, âIâm so hungry.â
âYouâre going to wait. Like a normal human being.â
He exhales through his nose like heâs bargaining with a higher power.
âWe eat first. Thenââ his voice dips â âyou can do whatever you want to me.â
âAnything?â you ask, perking up.
âYes.â
You release him instantly, because thatâs a good deal.
âFine. Feed me. But Iâm holding you to that, Professor.â
Nanami mutters something under his breath about regret and bad life choices while plating your food.
Chairman Meow gets his bowl.
You get your dinner.
*-*
The thing about eating dinner with Nanami is that heâs trying to have a normal conversation.
You are not.
Heâs talking about faculty politics, how Professor Sato might be retiring next semester, something about department budgeting.
Youâre stabbing a piece of asparagus and saying:
âDo you think anyone in your department knows you fuck like a war god?â
Nanami, blinking slowly: ââŚNo.â
You hum. âWe should tell them.â
He cuts his chicken with surgical precision. âWe will not be telling them.â
âBut itâs so sad,â you pout. âThey think youâre all buttoned-up and boring when actually youâre a god in bed. With great hip movements may I add.â you make a very obscene hand gesture that would get you banned from a family restaurant.
âCan we pleaseââ he pauses, trying to be diplomatic â âkeep the conversation appropriate for the dinner table?â
âNo.â
You eat a bite of mashed potatoes like youâre auditioning for a bad porno, moaning around the spoon. âGod, Kento, if you railed me right now Iâd probablyââ
âStop.â
ââtake out a life insurance policy on my pelvis.â
From the floor:
Chairman Meow: MEEERROOWW!!
(Translation: I donât want to hear this while Iâm eating.)
Nanami sighs. âYouâre impossible.â
âIâm sexy,â you correct. âAnd youâre delicious. God, your handsââ you drop your fork dramatically, leaning over the table like youâre in a Victorian faint â âI could write a whole erotic novel about your hands alone. Chapter One: Gripping Myââ
âKami above, eat your food.â
âI am eating,â you say, stuffing a bite of chicken in your mouth. âJust also imagining how much better it would taste if you fed it to me with yourââ
âDonât finish that sentence.â
Dinner ends with you having consumed roughly 40% of the actual food and 400% of Nanamiâs composure.
Then he makes the mistake of doing the dishes.
And youâlike the loving, supportive wife you areâlean against the counter, narrating exactly how youâd like him to ruin you tonight.
âOkay so picture this,â you say, swirling your wine glass like an evil mastermind. âIâm bent over the desk. Youâve got me in that chokeholdââ
Nanamiâs shoulders tense as he scrubs a pan. âMm.â
ââbut this time we use the flavored lube. Mango. I want to taste tropical despair.â
âIâm not dignifying that phrase with a response.â
âOr,â you continue, âwe could try the toy I bought last week. The one you said was âtoo ambitious.ââ
âIt is too ambitious.â
âNothing is too ambitious for your dick, Kento. Speaking of, what a magnificent thing.â
From the floor:
Chairman Meow: MEEERROOOW!
(Translation: Can you two shut up, some of us are trying to lick our paws in peace.)
Nanami finishes the last dish, dries his hands, and turns to you. His face is the picture of calm. Too calm.
âAre you done?â he asks.
You blink innocently. âDone with what?â
He just stares.
You bat your eyelashes. âSpeak to my lawyer.â
You gesture to Chairman Meow, who yawns like heâs already sick of this trial.
You make a break for it.
Nanami follows.
âNOOOO,â you shriek, sprinting down the hall. âIâM ON MY PERIOD.â
âYouâre not,â he calls after you, in that infuriating professor voice. âI know your cycle.â
âI TAKE IT BACK,â you yell, diving into the bedroom.
âYou donât want to take it back,â he says, walking in with the slow, measured steps of a man who knows.
âNot horny anymore!â you lie, backpedaling toward the bed. âTotally chaste! Iâm a nun now, Kento. Sex is EVIL.â
He shuts the door firmly â because you both remember what happened the last time you forgot, and Chairman Meow witnessed the act like some judgmental furry pope.
Nanami stands there, arms crossed.
âPick a lube flavor and a condom type,â he says flatly, like heâs reading your last rites.
You gasp like he just proposed murder. âYou canât justâ you canât execute me like this!â
âThatâs exactly what Iâm doing.â
You clutch your imaginary pearls. âFine. Strawberry lube. Glow-in-the-dark condom.â
He raises an eyebrow. âWeâre not using the glow-in-the-dark again.â
âIt was festive!â you protest. âYour dick looked like a lightsaber!â
Nanami just walks toward you, the cornering slow and inevitable.
You fall back onto the bed, already laughing, already squirming, already so not innocent.
From outside the door:
Chairman Meow: MEEEEERRRROOOWWW!!
(Translation: I can hear you. I hate you. Feed me again.)
But itâs already game over.
Nanami stands there, sleeves rolled to the elbow, eyes heavy, posture calm in the way a storm is calm right before it ruins your entire neighborhood.
âClothes. Off.â
âOh my god, youâre so bossy,â you laugh, peeling your shirt like youâre in a strip club with zero talent. âShould I call you Professor Nanami?â
His head tilts. âWhyâwould youââ
âI dunno,â you grin, already knowing youâre about to ruin his evening in the most glorious way possible. âWe could spice things up. Maybe we could do, like⌠a teacher/student roleplayââ
The look on his face is priceless. Not lust. Not excitement. No.
Itâs the pure, unfiltered expression of a man who has just been asked if heâd like to eat soup out of a shoe.
ââŚAre you serious?â
You cackle, falling back onto the bed. âOh my god, the look on your face!â
âDisgust,â he says plainly. âAnd concern.â
You roll over, giggling into the blanket. âOh, Kento, Iâd fail every test on purpose just so youâdââ
âNo.â
The sharpness in his tone makes you shut up and grin all over again.
Oh, heâs mad now. Delicious.
When Nanami âgets back at you,â itâs never rushed. No, he plans your destruction like heâs defending a dissertation.
He moves between your knees, pushing them apart with an infuriating patience.
No rush. No warning. Just that first, devastating drag of his mouth over you that makes your back arch like youâve been plugged into the mains.
âFfffâoh my godââ
He hums, and it vibrates through you, the sound deep and smug.
Two fingers slide in, slow and deliberate, while his tongue works like itâs got tenure.
âJesus Christ, Kentoââ
âYouâre loud,â he murmurs, lips slick against you. âBe quiet.â
âOr what?â you pant.
He pulls back just far enough to look you dead in the eye. âOr Iâll stop.â
You shut up so fast you swear you hear the cat outside the door laughing.
Itâs obscene, the way he preps youâslow curling strokes, his palm dragging against you just right, tongue teasing in ways that feel illegal.
Heâs so thorough youâre half-convinced heâs writing a peer-reviewed paper on âHow to Ruin a Woman in Ten Minutes or Less.â
Youâre babbling nonsense now.
âGod, your mouth, Kentoâfuckâyour handsâoh my god, Iâm gonnaââ
He pulls back, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand like some smug executioner, and says:
âNo. Not yet.â
âOh, you bastardââ
Heâs already reaching for the drawer, pulling out the glow in the dark condom with the calm efficiency of a man checking papers.
The man treats your body like heâs dismantling an opponent in debate, piece by piece until thereâs nothing left but surrender.
The main event starts with him just holding you there for a moment, the stretch perfect, the weight of him making you dizzy.
And then he moves.
Slow, deep thrusts that drag over every nerve ending, each one measured, deliberate, devastating.
Itâs like heâs punishing you with how good it feelsâevery retreat a tease, every push forward a threat.
Itâs obscene, the way he touches you â like heâs memorizing reactions, filing away what makes you jolt, what makes you whimper. Slow strokes building into faster, firmer ones until youâre panting.
âStill want your roleplay?â he asks, voice low.
âFffânoâyesâfuckâoh my godâwant you-â
He catches your jaw in one hand, forces your gaze to his. âLook at me.â
You do, and itâs a mistake, because thatâs when he speeds up.
Rhythm steady but forceful, enough to make the bed creak and your nails dig into his shoulders.
The next few minutes are a blur of motion, hands on your hips, teeth on your shoulder, his voice low and smug in your ear.
Outside the door:
Chairman Meow: MEEEEEERRRROOOWW!!
(Translation: I know what youâre doing. Iâm telling the neighbors.)
âIgnore him,â Nanami says, not even breaking rhythm.
âIâohâfuckâI canâtââ
âYes, you can.â His tone leaves no room for argument.
You come so hard your vision fuzzes, and heâs right there through it, pushing you past the point where youâre making noises that definitely arenât legal in any country with a constitution.
When he finishes, itâs with a low groan right against your ear, his hand braced on the headboard, hips flush with yours like he owns you.
And thenâ
The bastard has the nerve to kiss your forehead.
From outside:
Chairman Meow: MEEEERRROOW!
(Translation: You disgust me. Feed me again.)
Nanami just sighs, pulls out, and says, âDinner. Then this. In that order. From now on.â
You grin, wrecked and shameless. âNo promises, Professor.â
A/N: apologies for not the best amazing smut, but i thought this was funny so..
A/N: since ppl were sooooo sad over my nanami angst, here, have some crack. pls enjoy this, it was fun to write. will prolly write this for other characters as well.
warnings: crack fic, smut, moobies mention
Listen.
The sunâs not even properly up yet.
The sky is doing that soft peach-and-blue gradient thing like itâs Godâs Canva template, and the apartment smells faintly like coffee grounds from yesterday and Nanamiâs cologneâwarm cedar and faint regret, probably because he was out until ungodly oâclock fighting some stubborn-ass curse that just wouldnât die.
He came in late. Very late. Slipped off his shoes like a polite assassin. Shushed Chairman Meow, who was standing at the door screaming like youâd been murdered.
(âPlease,â Nanami whispered, crouching to pet him, âdo not wake your mother.â) The cat blinked. And then meowed even louder because Chairman Meow is, frankly, a little bitch.
By the time he crawled into bed, you were already starfished in dreamland, probably drooling into your pillow.
And now⌠now the sun is painting lazy streaks across your apartment (because yes, you decorated this place, he just lives here) and youâwarm, soft, still half-asleepâblink blearily, realize the bed is heavier than usual, and oh.
Well to be honest, the first thing you register is the sunlight.
The second thing you register is heat.
Not the cute "oh look the morning rays are gently warming my cheek" kind of heat â no, no. This is the heavy, man-shaped, late-night-fight-exhaustion kind of heat radiating off your husband, who has somehow materialized in your bed without waking you up.
You blink into the glow of your very aesthetically pleasing curtains (because your husband has no taste (well he does but like... eh), and therefore, you were the one who decided their entire apartment would look like a Pinterest board had swallowed it whole).
And there he is.
The Great Man: Nanami Kento.
Salaryman, current jujutsu sorcerer, eternal sufferer of Your Bullshitâ˘.
His tie is draped half-off the nightstand, he's in an overshized shirt that's showing off a cute lil' happy trail (like he knows what heâs doing), and his arm is slung across his eyes like the worldâs sexiest Roman statue, except his hair is a mess and he smells faintly of sweat and blood and something distinctly Nanami.
And oh. Oh no.
You notice it.
The⌠situation.
The bulge.
The morning offering.
The turgid declaration that your husband is alive, well, and blessed with a circulatory system that gets to work before heâs even conscious.
You grin. Slowly. Like a cat thatâs about to knock something expensive off a shelf just because it can.
â...Youâre home,â you whisper, sliding closer under the covers like some unholy, horny and very wet eel.
Nanami makes a small, tired noise â half acknowledgment, half please donât make me talk before caffeine.
âGot in late,â he murmurs, voice rough with sleep and disuse. âCurse wouldnât die.â
âMm,â you hum, already tucking yourself against his side, one leg shamelessly hooking over his. Oh, whatâs this? A perfectly placed thigh pillow for my hand? Donât mind if I do.
âChairman Meow tried to kill me when I came in,â he adds. âI assume you trained him for this.â
âSelf-defense,â you say breezily, fingers inching down his stomach like they have a death wish. âWhatâs the point of a guard cat if he lets strange men in at night?â
You smile, triumphant, because youâve reached The Heat Source. Your fingers ghost over it like youâre diffusing a bomb, except the only thing you plan on detonating here is your self-control.
â...How was your night?â he asks, because apparently this man is going to make polite conversation while youâre copping a feel.
âMm, fine,â you say, giving him a squeeze, watching the corner of his mouth twitch. âDid some laundry. Watched that drama with the hot chef. Watered the plants. Oh, andââ
You bite him. Right on the chest. A soft, playful little nip through the open vee of his shirt.
Nanami stills. â...Did you justâ?â
âA lil mlem,â you clarify, licking the spot. âTiny nibble.â
â...Youâre odd.â
âAnd horny,â you correct, eyes flicking up to meet his.
His gaze is tired but fond, like heâs both baffled and amused that this is the life he chose. You know exactly what heâs thinking, though â he enjoys this. He likes the soft, lazy mornings where you get handsy and make him feel like heâs some marble Adonis in a museum youâre hellbent on defiling.
Your own eyes flick down to his chest again. You grin.
ââthose moobies,â you continue, undeterred, âare lookinâ extra good this morning.â
âPecs,â he insists, though his hand comes up to cup the back of your head anyway.
You purr. âMoobies for the grabbinâ. Moobies for the lovinâ.â
âStop calling them that.â
âYou canât stop me.â
Nanami exhales through his nose, which you know means heâs actually into this and youâre winning.
And, in your defense, you are winning. Because youâre warm, pressed up against him, hand on his morning wood, biting his chest, calling him a sexy slab of man-meat, and itâs not even 8 a.m. yet.
And maybe, just maybe, youâre about to make his very bad night a whole lot better.
Youâre still grinning like youâve just stolen fire from the gods, except instead of fire itâs a very large, very warm, very blessedly hard problem currently nestled against your thigh.
Nanami is trying to be the adult hereâGod bless himâbut youâre like a feral raccoon who found a rotisserie chicken. Thereâs no talking you out of this.
âSweetheart,â he says, voice still gravelly from sleep, âyou could just⌠let me rest for ten minutes.â
You make a noise thatâs somewhere between a whine and a scoff. âAnd waste perfectly good morning wood? Criminal behavior.â
His eyes crack open to give you The Look. The one that says heâs both long-suffering and considering rearranging your spine later. âI was up until four.â
You kiss his jaw, slow and sloppy, because you know what that does to him.
âMm. Guess Iâll just have to do all the work then.â
And there it isâhis breath hitches, just a fraction. You live for that little crack in his composure.
You slide your thigh between his, feel the heat of him through those loose pajama pants that are doing an absolutely pitiful job at hiding anything. You rub up, slow, just to be cruel.
He inhales sharply. âYouâre testing me.â
âIâm worshipping you,â you correct, mouthing at his neck now, tasting skin and the faint tang of dried sweat from last nightâs curse hunt. âLike the religion you are.â
âYouâre ridiculous.â
âAnd youâre delicious.â Your hand slips under the waistband, finds him thick and heavy and holy hell. You bite back a moan that would wake Chairman Meow. âChrist, Kento, this isââ
âIâm not Jesus.â
âFine. Buddha then. Something holy. Something⌠big.â
He exhales in defeat, eyes fluttering shut again like, if I canât stop her, I may as well let her finish. âYou are insatiable.â
Youâre already stroking him lazily, savoring the way he twitches in your grip, the way his breathing changes. Nanami has this controlled sort of pleasureâyou can feel him fighting the urge to rut into your hand, because God forbid he lose his perfect gentleman image.
âYou like it when I get like this,â you murmur, squeezing him just to hear the tiniest hiss of breath escape.
A pause. Then, softly: ââŚYes.â
You smirk. Flawless Victory.
The sun has moved higher now, painting golden light across the room. It catches in his hair, turns him into some ethereal statue who also happens to have a throbbing erection. You lean down and take him into your mouth without warning, just to ruin him completely.
His entire body tenses. âSweetheartââ
But youâre not listening, because youâre busy making very, very inappropriate sounds around him. The kind that would get you flagged on live TV.
His hand finds the back of your head, not pushing, just holding, like heâs grounding himself. You work him slow, letting your tongue drag along the underside, tasting salt and skin and Nanami.
He mutters something under his breathâprobably a prayer or a curse.
You pull off with an obscene pop, grinning up at him. âWhat was that?â
âNot important.â His voice is rough now, fraying at the edges. âCome here.â
You crawl up, straddling him, and ohâthere. You can feel him, hard and ready, pressing right against you through your underwear. Your hips grind without permission, and both of you groan at the friction.
âThis is how people start their day,â you whisper against his mouth.
âThis is how you start your day.â
âLucky me.â You kiss him, deep and slow, and then roll your hips again until youâre both panting.
And with that, you sink down onto him, and the morning explodes into sunlight, heat, and the low, helpless sound your husband only makes when you win.
The first thing that happens when you sink down is Nanami swears.
Not loudlyâheâs too composed for thatâbut in this deep, ragged voice that makes your toes curl and your ovaries clap.
His hands immediately grip your hips, fingers digging in just enough to leave a mark, because apparently Gentleman Mode has been turned off and replaced with âkeep her here foreverâ mode, because thereâs a momentâjust oneâwhere Nanamiâs brain short-circuits.
The hands on your hips tighten, his jaw flexes, and you can see the exact instant where the âgood husband who lets his wife tease himâ gets replaced by the âman who survived a four-hour curse fight and still has enough in the tank to rail you into next week.â
You feel him everywhere. Stretching, filling, hitting that perfect spot that makes your thighs shake almost instantly.
You rock forward experimentally and yeah, thatâs it. Thatâs the good stuff.
Nanamiâs eyes openâhalf-lidded, dark, the kind of look that could end governmentsâand his thumbs stroke lazy circles over your skin. âYouâre going to kill me before breakfast.â
âNot before my breakfast,â you shoot back, rolling your hips again just to see his jaw clench.
You bottom out with a shaky breath, fingers digging into his shoulders (pecs? moobies? moobies). âOh⌠oh my God, Kento.â
His hands slide from your hips to your ass, holding you down so he can thrust up into you, slow but deep. And you whine because heâs deliberately making it slow, dragging the head of his cock along that sweet spot like heâs memorizing you.
Your nails dig into his chest. âStopâbeingâsoâmean.â
âIâm not being mean,â he says, voice maddeningly calm. âIâm enjoying my wife.â
âYouâre torturing your wife.â
He thrusts up harder just once, and you let out a sound thatâs borderline illegal. âThat doesnât sound like torture to me.â
You bite his shoulder, partly because you canât help yourself, partly because you know it makes him growl. And oh, he growls. A low, rumbling sound that vibrates through his chest and straight into your brainâs âmake bad choicesâ center.
âYou reallyââ he gasps when you grind down hardââdonât have any shame, do you?â
âNope.â You kiss him just to shut him up, messy and wet, until both of you are breathing like you ran a marathon. His tongue slides against yours in that slow, thorough way thatâs somehow filthier than anything else happening right now.
Your hairâs a mess, your breathingâs erratic, and youâre grinding down on him like youâre trying to fuse your souls together. Nanamiâs eyes stay locked on youâsteady, intense, like heâs reading a book he really likes.
You lean forward, panting into his mouth. âKen, Iâmââ
âI know,â he murmurs, one hand sliding between you to circle your clit.
The sound you make could wake the dead. âOh fuckââ
âYouâre beautiful like this,â he says, and itâs infuriating because he sounds so sincere while also absolutely rearranging your guts. âYou should see yourself.â
âI am seeing myself,â you choke out, âin your stupid, smug, sexy face.â
His lips curve just slightly before he pulls you into a kissâhot, wet, teeth clashing because neither of you are trying to be gentle anymore. Your hips are moving without thought now, chasing that sharp coil building inside you, and heâs meeting you thrust for thrust, controlled but relentless.
Then he says it, in that deep, firm tone that hits lower than your ears: âCome for me, my love.â
And you do.
It hits hard, sudden, ripping through you so strong you swear your vision whites out. Your whole body clenches around him, and Nanami groansâlow, gutturalâbefore spilling into you, his own restraint finally snapping.
For a moment, thereâs only panting. The sound of your heartbeat in your ears. The faint swish of Chairman Meowâs tail as he pointedly looks away like the worldâs most judgmental chaperone.
You collapse against Nanamiâs chest, sweaty, blissed-out, trying to catch your breath. âThat⌠was⌠so much better than coffee.â
Nanami strokes your hair, still warm and sticky between you. ââŚYouâre cleaning the sheets.â
âWorth it.â
Chairman Meow: meow.
Nanami groans. âWe need to feed the cat.â
You grin against his skin. âFive more minutes. Or, you know⌠breakfast?â
*-*
Itâs laterâmuch laterâwhen you finally manage to roll out of bed. Your thighs are mildly jelly, your hair is doing a thing that can only be described as âsexually tragic,â and Nanami is already standing in the kitchen wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt like nothing happened.
You shuffle in, oversized sleep shirt brushing the tops of your legs, and immediately trip over Chairman Meow, who is weaving between your ankles like a furry snake on a mission.
âFood,â you croak to Nanami, pointing vaguely at the coffee machine. âAnd feed your son before he stages a coup.â
Nanami raises an eyebrow. âOur son.â
âOur son doesnât scream at me at six a.m. for wet food.â
âYou screamed at me at six a.m. for something else entirely,â he says evenly, turning to get your coffee.
The audacity.
Chairman Meow, sensing he is being ignored, lets out a sound thatâs half meow, half demon incantation. Nanami crouches to open a pouch of the expensive pâtĂŠ (because of course this cat eats better than you), sets it in the dish, and Chairman Meow immediately starts eating like he hasnât had a meal since the Meiji era.
You hop up onto the counter, sipping the coffee Nanami slides over. âSo, whatâs on the agenda today, Mr. Sorcerer?â
âPaperwork at HQ. Grocery run. AndâŚâ he sighs, already sounding tired, ââŚthe vet, first thing actually.â
You choke on your coffee. âOh my god, I forgot that was today, you have to take him?â
âYes.â Nanami glances at the cat, who pauses mid-bite to glare at him. âHe needs his booster shots.â
Youâre trying not to laugh because the last vet trip ended with Nanami sporting three scratches on his forearm, a pee-soaked carrier and the vetâs assistant saying, âWow, heâs spirited.â
âDo you want me to go with you?â
âNo,â he says, completely serious. âOne of us has to survive the day.â
You snicker into your mug. âMake sure you write me into your will then.â
He shakes his head but thereâs the tiniest smile tugging at his lips as he cracks eggs into a pan. âYouâre teaching at the high school today?â
âMmhm.â You swing your legs. âSecond-years. Curse biology. Weâre covering the difference between Type II and Type III manifestations.â
Nanami gives you the side-eye. âThatâs not going to end with someone summoning an actual curse again, is it?â
âThat was one time, and also not my fault.â
Breakfast is a quiet, comfortable affairâscrambled eggs, toast, Nanamiâs perfectly sliced fruit because apparently presentation matters at 8 a.m. You eat at the counter while he finishes his own coffee, already dressed in slacks and a crisp white shirt.
Heâs heading toward the bedroom to get ready when you call, âWait!â and dart after him.
âWhat is it?â
âYou canât just wear any tie today. Youâve got that meeting, remember?â
Nanami exhales patiently, standing still while you go into his closet like itâs a boutique. You pull out a deep navy tie with a subtle gold stripe and hold it up with a flourish. âThis one.â
He takes it, inspecting it like he might reject your offer. But he doesnât. âAnd the watch?â
You rummage through his little watch case until you find the stainless steel one with the dark blue dial.
âMatchy-matchy. Youâre welcome.â
âThank you my love,â he says, in that way where you know he actually means it but will never admit he needs you for this.
While he finishes getting ready, Nanami starts packing your lunchârice, grilled salmon, steamed veggies, and a tiny container of your favorite pickles because heâs soft like that.
You peek into the kitchen as he tucks in an extra snack. âYouâre spoiling me.â
âYouâre a menace, and itâs the only way to keep you from terrorizing the school vending machines.â
*-*
By the time youâre both ready to leave, Chairman Meow is sitting by the door with the exact expression of someone about to commit homicide. You crouch to kiss his little head. âBe good for Daddy.â
Nanami mutters, âHe wonât.â
And then youâre offâhim with the cat carrier (already shaking from the wrath within), you with your bag and lunch, both of you stepping into the bright morning, your coffee still warm, your day somehow already perfect.
A/N: there you go, the balance is restored, i hope you guys liked it
cw: suggestive, mentions of babies and ovulation, crack (a bit), petnames (âmy loveâ, âbabyâ), f!reader just wants it very bad (i mean, who doesnât?), not proofread.
âPut a baby into me.â
âGood morning to you too, my love.â
Kento never seemed surprised with you. Not even glancing to you, his focus never wavered from his newspaper, his glasses carefully sat on the tip of his nose, comfortable on his chair.
He was the quiet, gentle strength, steady and unmoving and you hated him for looking so calm, while a raging war was taking place in your body - your ovaries screaming for you to get a baby.
Dilated pupils. Flushed cheeks. Short breath. Legs almost shaking. And grumpy in the morning?
Yeah, definitely ovulating.
It was always like that at this exact time of the month, he was used to it by now. So, it was definitely not a surprise when you approached him not so quietly, standing between his spread legs, your eyebrows knitted and your fists almost curled.
âKento.â
âYes, my love?â
âI want a baby.â
âAnd I want vacations. We donât always get what we want unfortunately.â
âIâm serious.â
âSo am I.â
You huffed, disbelief painted on your face. How could he? Your eyes narrowed, as if a single look would kill him right here, right now, your hands coming on his shoulders.
âKento.â
âHmm?â
âPut me out of my misery, please, please, please, please-â
âMy love.â He put his newspaper down on the table at his right, pushing his glasses that were slipping on the top of his nose, as he gave you his undivided attention now. âI know itâs your ovulation week and-â
âHow do you know?â
He always knew. Noticed the signs. And of course, kept a period app on his phone.
âI just know.â He sighed, his hands taking yours tenderly. âYou always complain about babies, about how they look like trolls-â
âGremlins.â
âGremlins in diapers, right. You donât actually want a baby.â
Was he wrong? Not really. Babies were loud, always crying and babbling nonsense that nobody understood but pretended they were cute. Babies were tyrants, little demons running everywhere, throwing tantrums and misbehaving.
Having a baby wasnât on your plan right now, and Kento wasnât really opposed to the idea but he always made sure that your desire came before his.
But right now, you wanted him.
Everywhere. Anywhere.
The single thought of Kentoâs hand spreading your thighs, and the other one doing wonders between them made your heartbeat faster. His hands on your hips didnât help at all, the heat of his palms through the fabric of your shorts didnât help at all, him explaining things to you with patience didnât help at all. And the worse of it? He didnât seem to grasp it. To understand the effect his rasp voice had on you, and your body that was on fire.
âI want you in me. Your coc-â
âI get it, my love.â With an expert hand, Kento took off his glasses, setting them aside, his resolve slowly crumbling under your words. The image was pretty vivid in his mind,
âDo you? Because I feel like if you donât give it to me now, I might die, Kento.â
âYouâre exaggerating.â
âYes, I am, but try to act normal when your ovaries are screaming and-â
The words in your mouth died the second his lips kissed the corners of yours, his eyelashes brushing your cheeks, the cold of his wedding ring dancing on your stomach. He pulled you on his lap, one of his fingers putting one of the strands of your hair behind your ear.
âWho am I not to give it to you, hmm? That would make me a bad husband, right?â
âA very bad one, indeed.â
Your breathless voice made him almost smirk in amusement - your body sensitive to the slightest of his touch - his forehead pressed against yours, shallow breath leaving his lips, his rough hands grabbing the back of your neck with tenderness, your perfume invading his nostrils.
âYou just want to be fucked, my love, right?â
âYes.â
Yes. Yes. Yes. A billion times of yes.
You were way too enthusiastic when he knew you wonât be in the same state at the end of this. As a man of his words, he was the only one who could give what you wanted - the thrill of the moment making your skin shiver with anticipation.
âItâs yours, baby.â Stealing your breath with his simple sentence, he gave you permission to use him however you desired it, his hands on the armrests of the chair, as you fumbled with the belt of his pants. âDo what you want.â
What wouldnât he do for his wife?
ââââ
thank you for the 150 followers, for all the likes, the reposts and the comments! it really warms my heart every time i get a notification đŤśđť
if you have any questions, donât hesitate, iâll be happy to answer them (even anonymously); iâm curious, what would you like to see more here? (more fluff? more angst?) what characters should i write about? (suggest any fandom, and iâll see if I can write about it) how can i improve my writing? do you have any scenarios in mind? let me know! iâll try to be more original :)
Ę cont: fem reader, oral (nanami!r), deep throating, established relationship, kinda sub nanami??
MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI
Once the door clicks shut, the silence that falls is deafening. Nanami is backed up against the door, with you standing too close to him, but neither of you move, neither of you breathes. Ever since the argument earlier, things have been tense. That tension that radiates between you is now filling up the room and making breathing nearly impossible. Unbearable.
After a few moments pass, Nanami clears his throat and steals your eyes to his, but before his parted lips can make words, you raise a finger to them and shake your head, all in silence. His brows furrow, but you don't feel like talking. Not right now. Not like this.
Dragging your finger down his nape, he lifts his chin as you trace down his chest, staying for a second longer on the warm skin that peaks out from his unbuttoned collar. Your touches are painfully slow and torturous, meant to drag this out until he's clenching his fists and breathing ragged.
You stop at his belt line and pull his tucked shirt up, dragging it out of the confines from where it's tucked into his pants. Through it, Nanami is quiet, but his breath hitches when you pull the shirt free. Lifting the fabric, you toy a single finger between his belt and lower abdomen.
Nanami lifts a hand and grips your wrist--not to tell you to stop, but his eyes are full of questions, unspoken thoughts, and... Lust. He's exactly where you want him. "What are you doing?" His deep whispered voice seems to echo off the walls of your shared home.
Holding eye contact, you pull your finger out and use both hands to undo his belt, his hand still cautiously on your wrist. "I thought I told you not to speak right now?" You said, the clinking of metal filling up the space around you. His breath hitches when you bump into the proof of his arousal while undoing his belt, and his throat bobs as he looks down at your hands that make slow, precise work of him.
"We should talk." He says, his grip on your wrist turning firm.
Earlier, Nanami put himself in danger to eliminate a curse--something you had told him before not to do. The last time he did it, you weren't with him, so your fright wasn't as potent, but seeing how close he got to...Â
Seeing it so close made you feel helpless. It was a feeling you never wanted to replicate again.
"I don't want to talk." You said, slowly dropping to your knees while looking up at him through your lashes.
Nanami pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and fights back a groan at the sight, warring with himself internally. You look so beautiful, but he knows you're still upset with him.Â
You run your hand up his thighs and stop at the top before sliding your fingers into the band of his boxers and sliding them down inch by inch. His breath seems to stop completely as you rid him of his clothes, slowly barring him and giving him no choice but to repent in the way you want him to. By letting you take him.
"Sweetheart..." He whispers through a groan when his cock bounces free of its confines, wet at the tip and so hard he's fucking twitching.
"Kento." You chastise. What about not talking doesn't he understand?
His hand threads into your hair gently, and his eyes look so tortured and pained. You love it. "I don't deserve this." He says so softly, almost insecurely. And you nod. "No, you don't"
"Then why-"
Your hand wraps around his impossibly stiff cock, and he cuts himself off, inhaling sharply through his teeth while the back of his head knocks into the door. Such a simple touch and Nanami Kento is debased to his most basic animalistic urges. You rub the head of his cock, massaging your thumb into that sensitive spot on the underside of his head, and are rewarded with his abs clenching and a drop of precum.
"Speak again, and I'll stop." With those parting words, you suck him between your lips and he fucking melts.Â
Kento grunts, his free hand slamming into the wall behind him in a balled fist when you effortlessly slide him to the back of your throat. This isn't about his pleasure, much as it seems. You aren't going to take it easy or spare his pride, this is to torture him, to make him feel as helpless as he did you.
His hand in your hair tightens, but he makes no move to thrust into your mouth or shove you onto his cock. His body jerks and his back arches when you take him too deep, but he catches himself before he thrusts into your warm mouth as much as he wants to.
A long grunt that turns into a groan is torn free from his throat when you start bobbing your head up and down at a merciless pace, using a hand to stroke the rest of his length that doesn't fit in your mouth, while you slide your other hand up his shirt to caress his abdomen and feel what you do to him.
His abs flex under your touch and your ministrations. His breathing is ragged and ruined, and sounds that would usually be hidden back from your ears, are being forced free. He's not hiding a thing. You didn't even know he could be this loud while receiving head even after being together for a year. The sounds are mostly pants and grunts, but they're sounds all the same, and they're making you feel insane.
Pre-cum floods your tongue when you swallow around him and time your thrusts with your hand, determined to jerk his soul out of his cock when he cums. And he feels fucking close. He keeps twitching inside your mouth, his abs are flexing his body is bowing, and his breaths are turning choppy and debauched.
"Sweetheart... A-ah." You know you said you would stop if he spoke again, but when he sounded so fucking good, it was hard to want to stop. "I'm going to cum, stop." The last word is grunted with a surprising amount of restraint and control, but you continue regardless as if you didn't hear it.
This time, his hips do jerk, and the precum that floods your mouth makes it feel like he's already cum. "My love, you need to-" You look up in time to watch his mouth fall open and his eyes roll back in his head before he bites down on his teeth and groans through them. "You need to stop or I'm going to cum."
Always so considerate, even when he's getting blown an inch from his life. Popping off from his cock only long enough to talk, you rake your nails down his abdomen and jerk him off as quickly as you were sucking him, not wanting him to lose that buildup. "Cum in my mouth."
He looks like he wants to retort, but it dies on his tongue when you take him back into your mouth and double your efforts, massaging your tongue on that one spot that makes him see fucking stars.Â
It only takes a second before his grunts turn to pants and his pitch raises in volume. You hold eye contact with him while he watches you take him to the near base, then he explodes, and you taste the specific taste of him on your tongue.
His face screws into pleasure and his body goes rigid as his balls empty into your mouth. It's a fucking pleasure seeing him come undone. His cheeks and ears are flushed, even in the dark they look like bright red tomatoes, and his throat that bobs as he struggles to do so much as swallow is beautiful.
When you pull his cock free, he twitches and his hand balls in your hair before he's dropping to his knees and slamminghis mouth to yours, tasting himself on your tongue. He grunts and groans into the kiss, licking inside like he's greedy to share some of the burden. And you love it.Â
He parts your lips and cradles your face in his hands, wiping away the saliva on your cheeks and lips. "I don't deserve you, but please let me return the favor." He whispers, a misbehaving hand sliding down your body to rub you over your panties.
Your eyes roll back, and his lips part in awe as he decides between watching you as he rubs your clit, or watching your face screw into pleasure. "Please, my love." He begs in that sinfully deep voice.
sypnosis: when a hospital visit leaves you too weak to go home alone, you don't think twice before agreeing to let the nurse call your emergency contact. only... the person who shows up isn't who you expected. you thought nanami had walked out of your life for good three years ago â so why is he here now?
content: MDNI, exes to lovers, long-term relationship in the past, just two people hung up over each other, yearning, so much yearning, reconciliation, fluff, non-detailed references to mental health struggles, explicit smut, nanami kento has a big dickâŚ., hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending!! porn with plot, makeup sex (but itâs 3 years in the making) word count: 10k
a/n: i've been sitting on this work since last year so i'm really happy it's finally done! i hope the nanami girlies enjoy <3 ALSO uh iâm kinda obsessed with the idea of nanami not being with anyone else for the entire period of the break up because heâs just loyal like that. this man loves you so much⌠i love men who yearn and this particular man yearns hard. ao3 link
you sit on the edge of the bed, the discharge paper crumpled in your hands. your body aches, your head throbs, and the bright fluorescent lights are way too harsh on your eyes.
you kick your feet idly, letting the sound fill up the quiet of the hospital room. youâve been waiting for the nurse to come back and give you the all-clear to leave. she had asked if you would like her to call your emergency contact first â advising that you were still weak and would be much safer with someone to help you get home. exhausted and bleary-eyed, you had simply shrugged and agreed without much thought.Â
your mom would probably rush over, give you a stern lecture about taking care of yourself better, though her worry would be evident in the way sheâd sneak side glances at you the entire drive back to your apartment.
âi told you not to overwork yourself,â she would chide, her brows furrowed. âyou canât keep living like this.â
guilt presses down, heavier than the fever pressing at your temples. sheâs right, of course. youâre just not sure what else to do. your industry treats burnout as a badge of honour, and slowing down means falling behind. youâve already sacrificed so much, so whatâs a few skipped meals, a few dizzy spells?
a knock on the door draws you out of your reverie. your eyes flicker up to find the same nurse from before at the door, clipboard in hand.
âit says here that your emergency contact is a person namedâŚ?â she squints at the papers in her hand, ââŚnanami kento?â she peers up at you from her clipboard, offering you a kind smile.
your stomach drops.
nanami⌠kento?Â
you havenât heard that name in months, much less seen the man himself in two years. the sound of his name reverberates in your ears, a familiar ache washing over you once more.Â
âwe actually tried to get in touch with him earlier while you were unconscious, but he didnât pick up.â she continues, her tone cheerful, oblivious to the distraught expression on your face. âgood news though, i just managed to contact him and heâs already on his way hââ
âwait, no!â you cut her off, your voice sharp with panic as you frantically wave your hands in front of you.
âohâŚ?â the nurse blinks at you, now startled by your sudden outburst, as you scramble to explain yourself.
âtâthat wonât be necessary. iâll uhâ iâll call someone else right now,â you say quickly, standing up to grab your phone from your bag. âheâsâ heâsâŚâ
my ex-boyfriend.Â
ââŚhe doesnât live in tokyo anymore,â you finish, voice softening in panic-soaked whisper. âhe definitely wonât be able to come.â
and he probably doesnât even think about me anymore.
âthats odd,â her eyebrows lift. âitâs just⌠when we called him, he said he would be here soon, and he sounded quite worried, actually.â she eyes you with a gentle concern.
oh god, no.Â
you sit down just as quickly as you stood up, clutching the sides of the bed frame like an anchor and feeling like you might be rapidly cycling through the five stages of grief.Â
stage 1, denial: because thereâs just no fucking way. nanami kento, who hated you so much he quit his job and disappeared to kyoto to get away, a whole train ride away from tokyo, is supposedly coming to pick you up?Â
step 2, anger: why the hell did you let them call him? what were you thinking? why is he still listed as your emergency contact? which puppy did you kick? what god did you offend?
step 3, bargaining: maybe you can hobble out of here and call a taxi before he arrives. no wait, the nurse had said it wasnât advisable with your condition. is hiding in the toilet or under the bed a feasible option instead? you canât help but peer down the edge of the hospital bed. no, too much space underneath. heâd spot you instantly. fuck.
youâre about to progress to the next stage: existential crisis when someone clears his throat at the door.Â
you know instantly who it is without having to look up.
you really donât want to look up.
how many seconds is a reasonable time to spend staring at the ground below your feet?
taking measured breaths to steel yourself, you count to three before slowly raising your head to look at him.
you swallow hard upon doing so, your voice instantly dying in your throat.Â
standing right in front of you, it's undeniable that heâs just as handsome as ever. the same chiselled jawline and hollowed cheekbones, the signature blue dress shirt, and the same calm, steady presence that used to make you feel so incredibly safe. his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and you have to try really hard not to notice the way his biceps pull the fabric tight against his arms.Â
and.. he still smells entirely familiar, the distinctive smell of the cologne you gifted him on your second anniversary being hard to miss. you wonder if heâs finished the bottle, or if he went out and repurchased the same one. you wonder if he thought of you while doing so, if he remembered the night you shared together the night you presented him with the gift.Â
you wonder if he knows you still think of him â when you pass by his favourite bakery, when you cook a dish that used to be enjoyed together, or when itâs late at night, and the bedâs far too cold, and you find yourself missing the warmth of a certain ex-lover.
he was more than your ex-lover, though. he was your best friend, your home, and⌠youâd always thought heâd be your husband one day.Â
you quickly shake off that thought before it cracks your heart right open again.
thereâs a tired look in nanamiâs eyes that mirrors your own, and his tie is slightly loosened â he must have rushed over.
thereâs a brief moment of quiet. neither one of you speaks, the silence thick with unsaid things from the past that come rushing back in an instant for you. shared memories â the laughter, the promises, and the pain, that youâve tried to block out with one too many drinks alone or with friends.Â
he doesnât ask if youâre okay. he doesnât ask why your emergency contact list still has his name. he doesnât ask anything.
âcome on,â he says simply, not meeting your eyes. âletâs get you home.â
he canât even look at me.Â
so why did he even bother to come?
he just takes your bag from the side table, slings it over his shoulder, and holds the door open for you like itâs been no time at all.
thankfully, the car ride home is short and traffic is smooth, ensuring your suffering isnât needlessly prolonged. after giving nanami your address, you simply opt to stare out the window, pretending to take great interest in the passing blur of trees and headlights. anything to avoid looking at him.
âthanks for coming,â you mumble, voice stiff and rigid. âiâm sorry about the inconvenience.â
he glances over at you. âthatâs alright. i work nearby.â heâs straight-faced as he stares ahead, and the tone of his voice is imperceptible. you canât get a read on his emotions at all, even if you tried.
you ignore the part where he just revealed that heâs back in tokyo. working. it shouldnât hurt you that you didnât know. he came to pick you up when he didnât have to, when he didnât want to, and that should be enough.
âstill,â you say quietly, shifting in your seat. âthank you.âÂ
you know this man like the lines on your palms â every freckle, every sigh, every scar he never let anyone else touch. you know the exact way he takes his coffee and how he prefers to fold his shirts. you have his initials inked into your skin, for goodness' sake. he used to trace over them absentmindedly when he thought you were asleep.
and yet.
here you are.
he was the love of your life, and youâre reduced to exchanging cheap pleasantries like strangers.Â
âitâ it was an accident,â you attempt to clarify, sitting up straighter. âthe nurse asked if i wanted to call my emergency contact, and i wasnât thinking so i said yes, and she tells me sheâs just called uhâ you, and i must have forgotten to change myââ you cut yourself off, wincing when you realise youâve started rambling.
â...thank you,â you say again stupidly, for lack of anything else to say to fill the space between you. âi⌠i appreciate it.â
itâs almost laughable how awkwardly youâre sitting, with your entire body turned away towards the window, like youâre trying to squeeze yourself towards the door and as far away as possible from the driverâs side. you might as well be trying to climb out of it.
âyouâve thanked me enough tonight,â he makes a sound that could seem like a bit of a laugh escaping him. you want to reach for it. to capture the precious sound with both hands and never let go.Â
âsoâŚâ nanami asks, softer now. âdo you feel alright?â
âyâyeah.â you mumble, looking down at your hands. âjust the usual, you know. itâs really not a big deal.â
âthe fainting spells?â his eyebrows raise and he glances at you as he takes a right turn. youâre close to home. âyou still get them?â
you nod, surprised he remembers. âuh huh,â you reply absentmindedly. âitâs just work. i guess iâve been overdoing it lately. but iâve got the weekend off so⌠iâll use that time to get some rest.â
âi was really worried when i got the call,â he says quietly. âyou should take better care of yourself.â
you turn your head to look at him, caught off guard. but his eyes are still fixed on the road, focused and unreadable as he pulls up to your apartment complex. thereâs not a flicker of emotion on his face â nothing at all to tell you what heâs really thinking.Â
âyeah,â you mutter. âthaââ you quickly stop yourself. âiâll keep that in mind.â
the engine clicks softly as he shifts into park, but neither of you move.
you stare out the windshield at the streetlights glowing against the pavement, casting long shadows that stretch like ghosts between you.
you bite your lip.
you should let him go. you know you should. thank him again, close the door behind you, and leave this buried in the past â right where he left you those two and a half years ago.Â
but your thoughts are moving too fast, resisting another dreadful goodbye. this canât be it. not after everything. the way his voice cracked slightly when he said he was worried â that was real, right? thereâs still so much you want to say. thereâs so much you never got to tell him.
so blame it on the hospital meds, or the adrenaline, or the fact that he still smells like that stupid cologne you bought him, but before you can talk yourself down, the words are already tumbling out of your mouth.
you donât look at him when you say it. your fingers twist painfully in your lap, breath caught in your throat.Â
âdo you⌠want to come up for a bit?âÂ
a pause.
youâre beginning to wish you could take it back. to laugh and say nevermind, to play it off like it didnât mean anything. you glance at him, mouth opening to offer some half-hearted apology, but he speaks before you do.
âyeah. okay.â
it takes a second for the words to register. then another to believe he really meant them.Â
you nod once, then without looking at him again â because you canât bear to see the look in his eyes â you reach for the door handle and hurriedly step out.Â
the ride up to your apartment is quiet, awkward in that strange, brittle way that only two people with history can manage. you shift uncomfortably next to him, fidgeting with your sleeves, whilst he stands a little too still. the elevator walls seem to be caving in on him, trapping him with everything heâs tried to run from. you mumble something about the weather, how cold itâs been lately, how you miss the sun in the mornings.
nanami gives quiet, polite laughs in return. tells you about his recent promotion. it feels strange, to speak of something so mundane after everything thatâs passed between you. but heâs not sure what else to say, and you donât press. you nod, your eyes somewhere else, and he can feel the way your thoughts spiral even in the silence.
when you finally reach your apartment, nanami takes the opportunity to look around while you change out of your clothes, taking in the details of your life scattered around the modest place. itâs cute and cosy and has clearly been lovingly decorated. the same warmth and care that used to fill your shared space together â he finds it existing again here.Â
he sees traces of familiar items â small, quiet things that tug at him.
thereâs that piece of artwork you used to hang on your old bedroom wall, now on the wall of your living room. and hanging above your couch, is the sanrio alarm clock he had gifted you on christmas all those years ago.Â
heâd thought it was silly at the time â a childish gift â but your eyes had lit up like heâd handed you the world. he remembers the way you squealed and tackled him on the bed, calling him âthe best damn boyfriend everâ. he didnât particularly feel like it â in fact he had spent most of the relationship feeling wholly undeserving of you â but you announced it like it was gospel.
he moves further into your space, careful not to disturb anything. his fingers brush against the handmade cushion covers on the couch â your motherâs handiwork. the same ones that used to sit on the couch in your shared apartment. back when things were still good.Â
when he had the world in his hands.Â
on one side of the wall, there are framed pictures of you and your friends. he recognises some of them, like your brother, and some of your friends, shoko and utahime. there are others he doesnât recognise though, like in one polaroid picture where a guy with weird bangs and too many tattoos has his arm swung over your shoulders as you laugh and strike a peace sign for the camera. you guys look close, perhaps a little too close.Â
he winces at that thought.Â
he has no right to feel that way. not anymore.Â
and he knows that, he knows what he walked away from, the vast expanse of everything he gave up, but it hits him all the same â how much of your life heâs missed. how much youâve lived and grown without him.
nanami canât help but feel a little out of place. standing in your apartment and seeing these snapshots of your life makes him realise how little he knows about you now. the life you evidently worked hard to rebuild after your breakup with him.
he observes how happy you look in all the photos, your smile bright and beaming â nothing at all like how you looked in the final few months of your relationship. exhausted, dull eyes, and always one breath away from breaking down.Â
back then, he felt like couldnât reach you no matter how hard he tried. or maybe he stopped trying, because the guilt of failing you became too much.
your relationship hadnât been in a good place, with his frequent travelling for work, your mother falling ill abruptly, and the both of you trying to stay afloat in the middle of weathering separate storms. he knew the love was still there â it was still loud and palpable â but the space between you only stretched wider and wider.Â
his love didnât feel like it was enough to hold you together.
nanami remembers that last night like it was yesterday. maybe he had replayed it in his head too many times, like a form of punishment he wanted to inflict upon himself. a thousand moments of disconnect, of mutually failed bids for affection, and of pent up frustration boiled over in a single fight. he said things that couldnât be unsaid. you had done the same.Â
when you told him to leave, your eyes red and glassy, pushing uselessly against his chest as he stood frozen in your doorway, something in him just snapped. it could have been the exhaustion. or it could have been the unbearable guilt of watching the person he loved look at him like he was the thing hurting her the most.Â
he thought you might have been better off without him.Â
so he listened.
he had done exactly that for the past two and a half years, even packing up his life in a suitcase and taking a new position in kyoto, so he could honour your wishes. sure, tokyoâs a big city, but thereâs no place far enough to run to when youâre nursing a broken heart.Â
god, what was he even doing up here?Â
heâs beginning to regret agreeing to come up when you suddenly reemerge from the bedroom, your work clothes now swapped for an oversized t-shirt that barely covered your upper thighs. he catches himself looking for a fraction of a second too long and quickly averts his gaze.Â
âall done,â you call, padding down the hallway. âsorry for the mess,â you say sheepishly, gesturing vaguely around the apartment. âi wasnât expecting anyone over.â
âno, i should be the one apologising. iâm the one imposing on you,â nanami mutters.
âitâs really okay! i donât have any plans for tonight anyway,â you reassure. âdo you want anything to drink?â
âjust a glass of water, thanks.â
he drags out a chair and takes a seat at the kitchen counter, leaning forward and watching as you quickly wash up some leftover dishes in your sink. the scene feels awfully⌠familiar. too familiar.
itâs a strange feeling, comforting, yet unsettling all at once. thereâs an undeniable domesticity to the moment and he feels a heavy ache making its way back in his heart.Â
it calls him back to shared laughter around the dinner table, the comfort lovingly infused in homemade meals, late nights spent draped over each other on the living room couch. two lives intertwined with each other, and the promise of forever that was so close to coming true.
(âkentooooo,â you would tease, nuzzling up close against him. âi love you the most in the whole wide world.â
he would say it back, just as earnestly.
and silently, heâd swear to god to let him die a cursed man before ever breaking your heart.)
it hurts.
he wonders if it hurts you too.
he peers at you, your head down whilst you remain concentrated on the last few dirty plates. if it does, it hasnât shown on your face at all. besides your initial shock of seeing him, he hasnât been able to get a read on your emotions.
he knows he should probably say something of substance, something meaningful. try to address the elephant in the room.Â
he clears his throat. âhow⌠have you been?â
you pause for a moment, setting a glass of water down in front of him before meeting his gaze. âiâve been okay,â you say earnestly. âthings have been a little hectic at work, but it should calm down a little once the busy season is over. what about you?â
nanami takes a sip of water, nodding slowly, his mind turning over what to say.Â
truthfully, things have never been the same for him since the breakup. heâs always been a man of routine - a man who thrives on structure, a man who finds comfort in the predictability of his day-to-day life. he hated change, avoided it wherever possible. you leaving forced his world to change in a way he couldnât control, and it had killed him a little inside.
of course, he had tried to distract himself. he buried his nose into work, something entirely out of character for a man like him, dedicated himself to the gym, said yes to more invitations from friends, and tried his best to forget.Â
so far, none of that has ever worked.
thereâs a tear in his heart that bleeds like a fresh wound every time something reminds him of you. it rips open at the seams even at the most mundane things â a song, a smell, a dog he saw on the street that looked like the one you always talked about wanting after settling down.
sometimes, he tries to wrap it up in bandages, crafted out of routine and distraction, praying that one day itâll finally scab over, so that all heâll be left with is a vague scar in the shape of you.Â
but then other times⌠he picks at it. agitates it on purpose, just to feel closer to you again. a man who canât help but run back into the blade, the reflection of you on the knifeâs edge is what he tells himself he has to be content with.Â
âthe same as usual,â he shrugs, struggling to keep his face carefully blank. âyou know how it can be.â
you hum in understanding, tiptoeing to open a cupboard to rummage for something. your shirt rises up your thighs and he quickly looks down, setting the glass of water down with too much force.
âyeah, work can be like that, huh?â you say empathetically.Â
his mind is drifting, barely catching your words. it goes quiet again and the silence stretches between you, heavy and unresolved.
then, before he can stop himself, wincing as soon as the words leave his mouth, he blurts out, âare you seeing anyone? would he⌠be okay with me being up here?â
your eyebrows raise, and you seem taken aback by his sudden question. âno,â you laugh lightly, shaking your head. âthat hasnât really been a priority for me lately.â
âreally?â self control has abandoned him. he shouldnât be asking you this, he has no place in your life, but he canât help himself.
âwhen we were younger, you used to say that you wanted to be married by 26.â
âthings change, i guess. i was a lot younger, and a lot more naive,â you shrug, looking away. nanami tries not to take that personally.Â
âwhat about you?â you turn to face him, eyes searching his. âany lucky lady?â
he shakes his head, âhasnât been a priority for me either.â
again, nanami studies your face carefully, searching for any hints of creeping resentment, anger, hurt, of anything, towards him. after all⌠he had ruined that for you, hadnât he? if the break up hadnât happened, heâs sure the both of you would have been married by now.Â
he comes up empty-handed. no anger, no blame, no bitterness on your face. just⌠nothing. maybe you got better at maintaining a facade, or maybe you had just fully moved on from him.
he isnât sure if he likes either possibility.
he should be happy, he tells himself, to see you living a full life, even after him. itâs all he had wished for â for you to find true happiness, even if it meant him no longer being a part of your life. but itâs standing here, in your house, looking at your face, hearing the sound of your voice after so many years, that makes his conviction waiver. the sight of you is too painful to bear.
his throat feels unbearably tight, and thereâs a twisting, gnawing ache in his stomach that refuses to let up.Â
âhey, which one do you prefer?â you ask then, holding up two different flavours of instant noodles. âsorry, i would whip up something better, but i havenât done the groceries yââ
god.
he isnât strong enough for this.
he canât sit here and pretend that everything is okay. not with the reminders of what he once had, of what he could have had, scattered all around him, mocking him.Â
the chair scraps against the floor in a sharp, screeching sound as he abruptly stands, heart pounding against his chest.Â
ââiâm sorry. i should go.â
your lips part, and your hands slowly lower to rest on the countertop, staring at the noodles youâd just gotten out. he sees it â shock, then confusion, then something pained flickering behind your eyes, but before you can say anything, heâs already moving toward the door.
you remain completely silent.Â
he doesnât even leave a moment to take a last glance at your face, trembling fingers already reaching for the doorknob to yank it open. but just as heâs about to turn it, your voice stops him cold.Â
âyouâre leaving again.â
the bitterness in your tone cuts through the air. nanami turns to face you slowly, his movements stiff and hesitant.
âwâwhat?â
âyouâre leaving again,â you repeat shakily.Â
âiâŚâ his eyes are trained on the floor, avoiding your gaze. âiâm sorry. i shouldnât have come up.â
at that, you let out a quiet, mirthless laugh. âyou shouldnât have come?â you echo, shaking your head. âi never pegged you as such a coward, nanami.â
feeling impending tears prick at your eyes, you quickly turn your back towards him, not wanting him to see you crumble.Â
you feel as though youâve been punched in the gut, nails curling into the table edge with a desperate, white-knuckled grip as you try to steady yourself.Â
âokay. leave then. thatâs what you do best anyway.âÂ
you try your best to sound uncaring, cold â just as he had. like itâs nothing more than a passing inconvenience, but the last few words come out chipped and cracked as the facade youâre been maintaining all night finally breaks.
you loved him.
no, you think bitterly. you still love him.
none of it matters though, because he intends to walk out on you the same way he did three years ago. once that door shuts, youâll never see him again. itâs so cruelly final, so devastatingly familiar, and it steals the remaining composure you have out of your body.Â
your gaze lands on the noodles on the counter. they mock you now. a pitiful reminder of your own foolishness. a stupid, stupid girl who somehow thought that inviting him up here might lead to something real, something redeeming. anything more than this unbearable almost.Â
the hope that had been slowly building behind your ribs, that had appeared like a weak flicker of candlelight the moment you saw him in the hospital, and had hesitantly grown the entire car ride home, with every glance, with every nervous exchange, extinguishes in your chest.Â
none of it matters, and the reality of it all is so damning that all you can do is sob miserably into your hands, feeling like your chest might collapse in on itself from the grief.Â
you hear nanami taking a step towards you. âyou think this is easy for me?â he questions, voice strained.
you laugh through your tears, though the sound is hollow. âit must be,â you snap, refusing to turn around as you angrily wipe at your face. âi already know how this goes. so just walk out on me, run away like you did before.â
you hear him take a deep, drawn out sigh. âthatâs not fairâŚâ he says defensively.
âfair? you want to talk about fair?â you whip around to face him, eyes burning red. âyou ran away, kento! you ran to kyoto, you ran so far off and changed your number and disappeared from my life like it was nothing! four years together, and you vanished without a trace? do you know what that did to me?âÂ
the words pour out. the anguish, the hurt, the sheer betrayal of it.Â
âdo you hate me that much? you canât even sit across from me for ten minutes before having to leave?â
âyou begged me to leave you alone! you screamed it to my face!â
âno!â you gasp, the pained sound ripped from you against your will. âi didnât mean it, you asshole! i wanted you to fight for us! not run away! we could have worked things out if you stayed!âÂ
âi knew we could have worked things out,â your voice crumbles pathetically, shaky and cracked, and you turn away from him, rubbing at your eyes furiously with your palms. âbecause it was us. us against the world.â
nanami opens his mouth again, seemingly about to say something. then, it closes and he simply stares at you, his demeanour visibly deflating. his shoulders lift, tense and rigid, before falling in defeat.Â
then, without warning, he closes the distance, arms wrapping around you, pulling you close to him.Â
thereâs desperation in the way he clutches you, the way his fingers fist the fabric of your shirt, his hands trembling against your back. his breath is sharp and uneven and he holds you tight as you sob into his chest.
for a moment, you hate him for it.Â
the unexpected physical contact â his warmth, his scent, the way his hands fall right into place, the way it still brings you comfort â it sends an impulsive wave of bitterness through your body. anger overtakes you for a split second, and you thrash against him, uselessly trying to push him off.Â
âlet me go!â you cry out, the sound fractured, torn between rage and grief.Â
his grip only tightens.
âleave!â
his arms only curl themselves around your shoulders, a steady hold, an unwavering anchor.Â
âyou abandoned me!â you shout. âyâyou let me love you, and then you left. you left!âÂ
you continue to curse, cry, and shout at him, letting your words beat and tear at his chest with years of unexpressed anguish.
âfuck you, kento,â you sob through heaving breaths, clutching at fistfuls of his shirt. âfuck, fuck, you fucked me up good, i hate you, god, i wish i hated youââ another wave of grief ripples through you and you bury your face in his shirt.
and yet, he continues to wrap his arms around you, silent through it all, his grip tighter than ever, his breath hot and heavy down your cheek. you fight against his hold until you have no energy left, until your voice goes hoarse and your chest burns.
when the veil of anger finally subsides, all that is left is hurt and betrayal in its place. âi thought you stopped loving me,â you croak, voice barely a whisper. âi thought⌠i thought you didnât want me anymore.â
you slump to the floor defeatedly.
that rush of anger is out of your system, and now you just feel broken. you hate how small your voice sounds, but itâs true.Â
when you finally peer up at him, the sight stops you cold.Â
nanamiâs crying.
youâve never seen him like this before â tears are brimming in his eyes, threatening to overflow as he squeezes his eyes shut to restrain himself. his hands are curled into tight fists by his sides, lips pressed in a thin line, barely holding himself back.Â
âiâm sofuckingsorry,â he chokes out, dropping down to his knees to pull you in. âthat couldnât be further from the truth. i promise you that.â
you can only watch in shock, taking in his words.
he takes a deep, shuddering breath.
âi always wanted you. i never stopped. i justââ he pauses to steady himself, voice low and quivering. ââwhen you told me to leave that night⌠i was just so tired of seeing you hurt and not having any idea how to fix it. i wanted you to be happy again, i really did. so i just⌠i thought you wouldnât want to see me again. i thought me leaving would be the best decision. i thought it would make you happy again. maybe not at the moment but⌠eventually.â
youâre about to speak, but nanami shakes his head quickly as he continues on.
âi came back. please⌠you have to know that. please.â he looks at you desperately.
this man⌠he was like an unyielding rock, always so calm and steady, no matter what happened. you were the crier. he had always kept it together. your heart aches to see him breaking down like this, with his brows pulled tight and a tremble in his voice that youâve never heard before.
âthree months after, do you remember when i called you that night?â
hesitantly, you nod. twenty missed calls from him that night, and then⌠nothing. you never heard from him again. he changed his number, moved to kyoto, and distanced himself from your shared group of friends.
you had never been able to understand why.
âthree months. i took three months to get my shit together and reflected hard on our relationship. i⌠i didnât want to lose you, but my life was falling apart and i knew i just needed some⌠some time. i couldnât think clearly. i was in a bad place. we both were. i didnât want to keep hurting you,â nanami says, his voice strained.Â
âi came back looking for you, i wanted to apologise for everything. i was ready to do anything to get you back. fuck, i was prepared to beg if i had to. i parked my car outside our apartment that night and iâŚâ he trails off again, looking away from you.
you see more tears spill from the corner of his eyes and your gut wrenches.
âi saw you with some manâŚâ he continues quietly, the words catching in his throat. he squeezes his eyes shut like heâs both reliving it and trying to forget all at once. âiâ i remember how you got out of his car and he kissed you on the cheek and youâ you laughed. i donât blame you⌠i wasnât angry. not at all,â he swallows hard. âyou had every right to move on.â
ââbut seeing you like that⌠you just looked so happy. i hadnât seen you smile like that in such a long time, you know? youâre everything to me. you still are. who am i to interfere with your happiness? i thought that even if it wasnât that guy, someone else would come along, and iââ he runs a hand through his dishevelled hair, voice cracking.
âi donât knowâ i wasnât thinkingâ i just felt so defeated at the time,â he sighs, covering his face with a hand. âbut then i regretted not doing something more, hell, i regret it every dayâ but then some time passed, and i⌠i thought i was too lateâ i thought i had missed my chance. i thought i had no choice but to let you go.â
a sharp pang of realisation cuts through you.Â
ââkento,â you choke out. you push yourself up on your knees, your arms wrapped around his neck.
âyou got it all wrong⌠that night⌠aiko begged me to go on a double date with a guy she kept saying would be perfect for me,â you rush to explain, stumbling over your words.Â
âi didnât even want to go, but you know aiko⌠she wouldnât take no for an answer. that guy, he was sweet, but⌠i didnât even want to be there. i barely talked to him. fuck, iâ i cried in his car on the way home, i made a fool of myselfâ i couldnât help it. nothing ever happened. nothing. it was just that one date.â
nanamiâs face collapses in grief. âi should have tried harder,â he says hoarsely, shaking his head. âi wasnât thinking straight. i shouldâve called again. i shouldâve showed up the next day and every day after that.â he takes another deep, shuddering breath. âiâm so fucking sorry.â
nanami holds you against him for what feels like an eternity. his touch is tender, grounding â his hand rubs small circles on your back, his lips pressing soft kisses to your forehead. he waits, silently patient, as your breathing steadies itself and the sobs fade in quiet shudders.
you lap it all up. in his arms, it feels like he takes up your whole world; the centre of your universe once again. an enveloping, encasing, and all-encompassing warmth that has you forgetting everything beyond the haven of his embrace.
you have no idea how much time has passed, although the sun has completely set, its brilliant hues no longer colouring your living room the way they did when you both had first entered. the sky has darkened, and the gentle glow of your lamp is the only thing illuminating the space.
you sit huddled up to him on the couch for a long time, his arms around you, your knees tucked into his sides. drinking him in. afraid to let go, afraid he might slip away again, like sand through your fingers. terrified that you would wake up and find out it was only a dream.
eventually, you shift to climb on his lap, your chest facing his. he doesnât speak, but his arms adjust instinctively, holding your waist.Â
that last line comes out a little shakily. it feels terrifying to admit out loud, especially after all this time. you lean your forehead against his, his lips just a touch away. the distinctive smell of his cologne faintly hits your nose â itâs aromatic and woody, a unique blend of amber and nutmeg. you used to love smelling it on him.Â
he doesnât pull away, but he doesnât reciprocate your movements either, and you freeze, suddenly afraid that youâve misread the situation.
you lock eyes for a moment, before yours shamefully darts away, suddenly feeling very, very small. you realise his body is tense under yours, and although one hand is lightly pressed against your waist, the other is curled into a loose fist by his side, as if restrained.
deep, burning humiliation floods you, and you feel your gut twist. have you managed to misinterpret the situation this badly? you feel the stinging sensation of tears building up again and quickly wipe them away, not wanting to embarrass yourself further.
âiâm sorry, iââ
frantically, you start to shift, attempting to pull away from him and perhaps look for a hole in the ground to hide in, but before you can stand fully, nanamiâs grip on your waist tightens, anchoring you back in place.
âdonât.â
you stiffen completely, staring down at him, your expression twisted in a mixture of discomfort and confusion.
âiâve missed you too,â nanami says quickly. âbut i needâ i need to hear you say it,â he admits. âi donât want you to regret anything. i donât want you to regret me.â
(nanami is aware that this is awfully uncharacteristic of him.
heâs hesitant, for one, and he doesnât want you to think he only agreed to come up because he wanted to drop a few sorrowful words to get in your pants. and then thereâs the confrontation you just had â were you even in the right state of mind to be doing this? was he taking advantage of you in a vulnerable state?Â
would you regret it after? kick him out of your bed, saying it was no more than a moment of weakness?
and⌠and heâs tried so hard to move on, but he doesnât even think it matters when youâre right here in his arms, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off your skin. your burning touch, your longing gaze, the smell of your shampoo lingering in your hair.Â
you had always been the kind to wear your emotions on your sleeve. he sees it now too, with your reddened eyes refusing to meet his, the way your lip has started to tremble with self-doubt.
he wants you. he wants this. god, he craves it more than anything in the world. he detests the idea of you thinking otherwise.Â
but nanami knows deep down, after everything, the choice has to be yours. he has to hear it from your lips before he succumbs to his deepest desires.)
âi want you,â you breathe. thereâs something frantic in your quiet admission, a desperate bid for connection. âall iâve wanted is you. i assure you. no regrets.â
âgood,â a tug on your waist has you falling back down onto his lap. âbecause i want you too.â
the admission stirs something primal within you. you lean in, lips brushing against his in a tentative kiss. it feels good. like returning to a place you once called home. nanamiâs reaction is immediate this time, his hands threading through your hair, returning the kiss slowly in a hesitant rekindling of lost love.Â
he cups your cheeks, you wrap your hands around his neck, letting unsteady kisses gradually grow confident between you two until youâre both left gasping for air, completely lost in each other.
you moan into his mouth, your hands hungrily trailing across his body, from his chest, down his abs, and across his strong arms. you know nanamiâs always been a well-built man, and he definitely takes care of himself, but heâs a lot⌠sturdier than you remember.Â
your hands run appreciatively down his upper body, taking in the changes. itâs an intoxicating mix of both the familiar and the new, and you find yourself captivated, trying to commit every contour and plane of his body to memory.
youâre tasting him â just as heâs tasting you, your eyes taking the other in, palms sliding across what has been untouched for too long. the years of distance feel like theyâre evaporating like vapour with every frantic open-mouthed kiss.
your fingers rush to unbutton his shirt, almost yanking them open as you hastily make your way down towards his hips to undo his belt. itâs hard to focus though, because his hands have travelled under your shirt, palms warm and rough against your skin.
itâs impossible to contain your moans as his hands trail up and down your waist for a moment, before moving to squeeze at the fullness of your breasts. pulling your bra down at the front, his thumbs graze over your nipples, whilst his palms knead at your flesh ravenously.
you manage to get the front of his shirt open, eagerly pushing the fabric aside. itâs still tucked into his pants, but it falls open at either side, exposing his toned chest and a blond trail of hair that leads downwards.
nanamiâs face is flushed, swollen lips red and messy from your kisses. heâs panting slightly too, and the sight of his bare skin sends a rush of heat through you.
âyour turn,â he growls softly, tugging at the hem of your shirt.
you lift your hands to help, and itâs quickly taken off and discarded onto the floor. your bra follows next, unhooked and tossed aside without hesitation.
how long has it been since he last saw you like this? your hands shoot up to your chest, wanting to cover up, but nanamiâs hands encircle your wrists, gently stopping you.
âdonât hide,â he murmurs, reaching forward to press another kiss to your lips. âyouâre as pretty as ever.â
instinctively, you shoot him a sceptical look.Â
âitâs true,â he hums, the corners of his eyes crinkling. âyou take my breath away.â
his smile is gentle, fond, the one you know was only reserved for you. you want to believe that hasnât changed.Â
nanamiâs eyes flicker down your upper body, stopping when he finds what heâs looking for. âyou kept it,â he murmurs. âthe tattoo.â a finger runs back and forth on the ink, like heâs trying to see if itâs really still there. âi figured you might have gotten it lasered off.â
itâs a subtle piece.Â
but itâs undoubtedly all for him.
after his surname in kanji: ä¸ćľˇ; meaning seven seas, you had gotten a small, fine line tattoo of the oceanâs wave under your ribs.
âiâm still yours,â you confess quietly. â...if you want me to be.â
iâve always been yours.
tattooed into my skin and down to my very bones. i was always meant to love you.
he cups your jaw with one hand, pulling back to look at you. âiâve never wanted anything more.â
his tone carries so much sincerity it makes your heart stutter, so you push that shyness aside and slowly let your arms drop to your sides, allowing him to maneuver you until youâre splayed out on the couch beneath him.Â
the world blurs around you.
all you can think about is this very moment.
the significance of what youâre doing is entirely palpable to you. youâre inviting him in, not just to your house, but into your heart again.Â
breathing heavily, your eyes follow his every movement in anticipation as his fingers dance across your inner thighs.
nanamiâs hands slip underneath the waistband of your panties, two fingers sliding in between your slick folds. you tense a little at the sensation as he parts them, the rough pads of his fingers prodding the sensitive bud of nerves that make you shiver and whine.
âgod,â he groans. âiâve fucking missed this pussy.â
you let out a little laugh at the foul language that slips from his tongue. itâs been so long since youâve heard his voice like this, and even longer since youâve felt his touch.
âmissed your cock too, kento,â you murmur, eager to show that youâve been equally longing for him, if not more. you want to hear more of him, so you reach your hand out to palm at his erection. heâs rock hard, and thereâs a little wet spot on his pants from the precum.
âfuck,â he mutters, hips pushing up to meet your hand. âitâs been a while.â
you giggle at that, âitâs been a while for me too.â
ân-no, you donât understand,â his grip on your waist tightens as he struggles to maintain his composure. âyou were the last.â
oh.
your eyes widen at that revelation, stopping your movements to fully look at him. âwâwhy havenât youââ
you find yourself in complete disbelief. you were the last person he slept with? that had been more than 2 years ago â way more than enough time for things to change, for someone else to come along.
but then again, nanamiâs always been a serious man, and by extension, that applied to his love life too. never one to seek out casual hookups, that man dated to marry.Â
he exhales quietly through his nose, almost like the answer to the question is too simple, too earnest. âi didnât want anyone else.â he says. âonly you. that hasnât changed.âÂ
and then, as he shifts to tug his pants the rest of the way down, he mutters, almost begrudgingly, âand besides⌠how the hell would i explain this?â
you glance down instinctively and your breath catches.
just above his lip, etched into the skin of his v-line, is a tattoo. itâs faint, but deliberate.Â
itâs your birth flower.Â
you used to doodle in the margins of your notebooks all the time as a college student, and sometimes the back of his hands became an unwilling canvas. he used to grumble and complain, but he never washed any of it off. Â
those silly little drawings. youâd drawn your birth flower once, on his wrist. pointed to it and batted your eyelashes real pretty at him, jokingly asking if heâd ever consider getting a tattoo of you. heâd said no with a resolute shake of the head, told you he wasnât the type to get inked, and then gave you a kiss and chuckled at your pouting face.Â
and now, that very flower is tattooed on him.Â
you blink, stunned. âkentoâŚâ you whisper. âwhat⌠youâ you got a tattoo of me? when?â
he huffs out a small laugh, head tilting back to rest on the couch. âcall me a masochist, i guess,â his voice turns gentle when he admits, âi wanted something of you to keep.â
your heart clenches.Â
âbesides,â he continues, poking you lightly at your ribs, where your tattoo lies. âyou were stuck with this reminder of me, too.â
it isnât just desire that curls in your gut now. itâs⌠grief. love. the ache of lost time. and the devastating realisation that he never stopped being yours, just as you never stopped being his.Â
âsay it again,â you whisper. âi wantâ i want to hear you say it again.â
âi only want you.â nanami must have realised how much you needed to hear that, the same way he had needed your confirmation earlier, because his voice is more resolute this time.
âi need you to know that iâm not the same person i was before,â he says, voice low and laced with urgency. âafter we broke up, i took a hard look at myself. if you⌠if you do give me a chance, i promise it wonât be the same way. iâll never let you go again.â
you nod your head, blinking away fresh tears and hoping he sees your answer written plain as day on your face. he leans up to kiss you, and thereâs nothing rushed about it this time. he takes his time, kissing you like youâre something sacred, thumbs brushing along your jaw with a reverent touch.Â
heâs kissing you the way he should have for every lost second with you.
a kiss goodbye when he leaves for work.
a goodnight kiss on your forehead, right before he turns out the lights.
a kiss on your cheek, just to see you smile.
a slow, languid kiss down the column of your throat, pressing into the spot just beneath your jaw â the one that always made your breath hitch. he remembers. of course he remembers.
âthisââ his hand moves to cup yours, guiding your movements as he slowly drags your hand over his cock. ââsâall for you, sweetheart.â
a breathy moan involuntarily leaves your mouth, further spurred on by his words. he feels so big, his erection pulling the fabric tight across his boxers. and he called you sweetheart. itâs a simple word, but it kind of leaves you feeling dizzy, like a schoolgirl with a crush, nervous and blushing.
âyou want my fingers?â
you whine and nod your head eagerly.Â
âuse your words, love,â he coaxes. âyou know iâll give you anything you ask for.â
love. there it is again.
you squirm a little, trying to evade his gaze. âwâwant your fâfingers, kento. want them inside me.â
âthatâs it,â he purrs.Â
one hand reaches for the back of your neck, holding you tenderly as he peppers kisses on your lips and all over your neck.
the other hand, though, moves deviously between your thighs, a singular digit plunging into your soaked cunt. one quickly becomes two as he stretches you out with his fingers, the expert movements leaving you gripping the sheets and gasping.
âlet me make up for lost timeâŚâ you gasp when he drops to his knees in front of you, hiking your legs over his broad shoulders. his mouth finds its way to your sensitive clit, drawing quick flicks with his tongue.Â
your thighs involuntarily squeeze around his head, and he simply groans into your cunt. the sound vibrates across your core, and you cry out, tipping your head back as pleasure washes over you.
âkâkento. kento, fuckââ
his fingers continue curling upwards, brushing against your sweet spot, never letting up for even a split second. he doesnât show signs of stopping, even when your fingers tangle in his hair and your thighs quiver around him.
(and when you cum undone on his fingers, shaking and mewling, nanami relishes the way you gasp into his mouth, back arching off the couch as all sorts of pretty sounds drip from your flushed lips.
i love you.
i still love you, after all this time.
he doesnât say it out loud â no, it isnât the right time.Â
but he repeats it loudly enough inside his head, hoping that somehow, you might hear it too.)
hungry for more, you tug him upwards, off his knees and push him back down onto the couch. you capture him in a heated kiss, his mouth still wet with your slick, and he makes quick work of his boxers, the urgency and hunger growing.
âkento,â you beg, dizzy with need. âiâ i want it so bad. give me everything.â
nanami audibly groans when he hears you say that, his voice low and raspy.Â
when you pull back to glance down, your breath catches.
âfuck.â
he cocks his head at you, amused. âyou act like itâs the first time seeing it.â
âw-well, no⌠butââ like you said, itâs been a while.
nanami pauses, mistaking your reaction as a sign of hesitation. âdo you still want to do this?â he asks, dutifully seeking your confirmation.
ever the gentleman. truly, it was endearing. if you werenât so frustratingly desperate for him, you would have scoffed or huffed a laugh.Â
âkento,â you plead. âi appreciate you asking, but i need you to fuck me. i might⌠die if you donât.â
you pull him down by the shoulders so youâre beneath him, his arms holding himself up by your head. the couch isnât the most comfortable, but you donât want to pause to move to the bedroom, hating the thought of having to stop for even a second.
nanami actually laughs at this, an amused smile on his face. you canât help but return a dopey smile of your own, but thatâs quickly wiped clean off your face when you feel the tip of his cock rubbing briefly against your entrance before starting to ease in, inch by inch.Â
ââfuck!â a drawn-out whine escapes you, squeezing your eyes shut as you struggle to accommodate to his size. âoh god, youâre really f-fucking big. waitâ waitââÂ
âyou can take it, canât you? doing so good for me,â nanami rasps, eyes trained downwards where his cock is stretching your tight hole out. âdidnât you say you wanted everything?â
you whimper in response, trying to force your body to relax for him. your dazed eyes meet his, and his pupils are dilated so wide that they seem to swallow the hazel rim around them.Â
he gives you a few moments to adjust, panting from exertion, before delivering slow, shallow thrusts as your breathing gradually evens out and your body relaxes under him.Â
âoâokay. yâyou can go deeper,â you pant.
at your words, he pushes himself all the way to the hilt, hips snapping against your thighs. your face contorts in pleasure, mouth hanging open as your eyes roll back while he drives into you. youâre trying to say something, but your words are lost in between airy breaths and quiet curses.
âyou look so pretty like this, baby,â he grunts.
(you canât see it, but he can. the creamy ring of arousal at the base of his cock as he pulls out, the slick coating your inner thighs, the way your warm, wet hole seems to be sucking him in with no reprieve. your fingers wrapped tightly around his wrist, eyes shut as you struggle to take him.
it makes him want go harder, deeper - wants to see your face as you lose yourself in pleasure and cry for him, only him.)
âitâs all for you,â he rasps. heâs pressing your thighs down and wide open, and you couldnât run from his cock if you tried. from your position, you can see the way he drives into you, pulling out all the way before pushing his entire length back inside you.Â
âevery. inch. sâall for you⌠only ever been for you. so take me good, yeah?â
âyâyes, god,â you babble. âsâso good, feels so goodââÂ
heâs stretching you open, moulding you to his shape, and most of all, heâs yours. heâs yours again, yours to hold, to have, to never let go.Â
your moans are getting breathier and breathier as nanami thrusts into you, soft little gasps that escape your mouth as you buck your hips up to meet his cock.
âfuck,â he curses loudly, screwing his eyes shut. âyouâre sâso fucking tight.â
nanami lowers himself down onto you, sucking on your neck as his hand cups your breasts. you groan loudly when he delivers a particularly deep thrust, wrapping your arms around him as you moan.Â
âlook at me baby,â he rasps, holding himself up with one hand. âwannaâ wanna see your face when you cumââ
heâs hitting all the right spots, and itâs not long before you feel the buildup of heat in your lower stomach, but you canât even warn him before your orgasm rushes over you rapidly, a full body sensation that ripples through your twitching body.Â
âkentokentokento, mâ comingââ
your own release has your walls clamping down on him, clenching him in a vice grip. âfuck, fuckâ yâyou feel so good,â he gasps.
thereâs unmistakable pleasure written in every strained breath and trembling motion as his own arousal reaches a fever pitch and he delivers one, two, three final thrusts into you. then, he hisses as he pulls out, spilling on your stomach with a groan.
âfuck,â nanami pants, collapsing back down on the couch. âsorry. give me a second.â
you giggle loudly, feeling how shaky your legs are when you tense them. âthat good?â
he pokes you in the side and you yelp. âbeing celibate for two years will do that to you.â
you laugh again, softer this time. the room is quiet now, save for the slow rhythm of your breathing and the distant hum of the city through the windows. nanami shifts beside you, brushing a stray strand of hair from your cheek.Â
âwait here,â he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead before he stands and disappears to the bathroom.
when he returns, he kneels beside you with a warm cloth in hand and a look in his eyes that makes your throat tighten. âlet me take care of you,â he whispers, and the tenderness in his voice is almost enough to undo you completely.
when heâs done, he lifts you, arms wrapping around your back and under your knees. the bedroom creaks open as he steps inside â itâs not the same as the place you used to share, that tiny apartment you lived with him when life was just starting out for the both of you â but in the dim light and the hush of the moment, you can close your eyes and pretend.
nanami sets you down gently, helps tuck you inside the covers, and slips in beside you. his hands reach to envelop yours, the pads of his fingers tracing over your knuckles gently. the movement is familiar; sentimental. itâs what he used to do when you would cuddle in bed, your body draped over his.
the world shrinks to just this. you and him, as though no time has passed. itâs almost like youâre still in your shared bedroom, tangled up in each other, and unbeknownst to you, thereâs a little blue box with a sparkling stone tucked away in his side of the wardrobe, waiting for the right moment to be revealed.
you turn your head to see him already gazing at you. thereâs a trace of a fond smile that forms across his lips, and he raises a hand to trace the curve of your nose, down to your lips.Â
thatâs when you realise this truth: that the ache you carried for him â all this unexpressed love-turned-grief â had never truly left you. youâd simply pretended it didnât exist, drowned yourself in work, shared the occasional bed with shitty men who could never compare to him, and nursed a bottle or two of wine on lonely nights, but you could never undo his presence in your life.
how his love changed you.
how it made you.Â
youâd be lying if resentment and bitterness hadnât crossed your heart at multiple points in time after the breakup. but the years have whittled away any semblance of that initial sourness, leaving behind only regret and the desire to make things right again, if ever given the chance.
and itâs right here in front of you, the man who was on his knees with his head dipped in between your trembling thighs. this silly man, who permanently inked a reminder of you on his skin even though he had already resigned to living a life without you. who now lies beside you, looking at you like youâre the only light in his world.
your love for him was never a ghost that haunted you.
it was a dream come true.Â
so is it enough? is it enough to just be two people, who have somehow found their way back to each other, both yearning for another try?
whatever that answer might be, your heart has already spoken: you donât want to miss your second chance.Â
there are apologies to be made, lost time to reclaim, and parts of each other waiting to be rediscovered.Â
and yet, you know him like an old song. you know every single word, carved into the lining of your skin, you know the melody, a soft hum that echoes in the chambers of your heart. you know the pauses, the quiet lulls where the music fades, only to swell again with aching familiarity.
nanami kento is that lingering rhythm, that pained harmony, existing deep within the cracks of memory and longing â an unfading symphony in your soul. your heart was always meant to be his.
you desperately want it to be enough.Â
and maybe, this time, it might be.Â
a/n: this was fun but also so, so exhausting to write man. like there are were so many emotions happening⌠but i can't stop myself i like the hurt/comfort trope too much. my favourite part was the tattoo bit like PLEASEEEE THIS MAN?????? nanami yearns 4 u the way i yearn to know your thoughts on this!!! so please let me know what you think! <3 i love reading the comments n tags they make my day
so uh i'm thinking about ex-boyfriend!nanami. you broke up with him 3 years ago but he's never been able to move on. he's tried everything. everything under the sun, and none of it has ever worked.
he isn't even sure if forgetting you is what he wants. he thinks he wants to let you live in the spot carved out for you in his heart, whether that hurts him or not.
and when you run into him unexpectedly? one thing leads to another and you find yourself splayed out on the couch obscenely, the oversized shirt you were wearing hiked up to your waist as you slowly part your legs for him.
the world blurs around you.
all you can think about is this very moment.
the significance of what youâre doing is entirely palpable to you. youâre inviting him in, not just to your house, but into your heart again.Â
breathing heavily, your eyes follow his every movement in anticipation as his fingers dance across your inner thighs.
his hands slip underneath the waistband of your panties, two fingers sliding in between your slick folds. you tense a little at the sensation as he parts them, the rough pads of his fingers prodding the sensitive bud of nerves that makes you shiver and whine.
âgod,â he groans. âiâve fucking missed this pussy.â
you let out a little laugh at the foul language that slips from his tongue. itâs been so long since youâve heard his voice, and even longer since youâve felt his touch.
âmissed your cock too, kento,â you murmur, eager to show that youâve been equally longing for him, if not more. you want to hear more of him, so you reach your hand out to palm at his erection. heâs rock hard, and thereâs a little wet spot on his pants from the precum.
âfuck,â he mutters, tilting his head back. âitâs been a while.â
you giggle at that, a little woozy from the wine. âitâs been a while for me too.â
ân-no, you donât understand,â his grip on your hips tightens as he struggles to maintain his composure. âyou were the last.â
oh.
your eyes widen at that revelation, stopping your movements to fully look at him. âw-why havenât youââ
for the second time tonight, you find yourself in complete disbelief. you were the last person he slept with? that had been more than 2 years ago - way more than enough time for things to change, for someone else to come along.
but then again, nanamiâs always been a serious man, and by extension, that applied to his love life too. never one to seek out casual hookups, that man dated to marry.Â
âi didnât want anyone else. only you,â he murmurs. âthat hasnât changed.â
your heart is not the only thing that clenches at the raw sincerity in his voice.Â
âsay it again,â you whisper. âi wantâ i want to hear you say it again.â
âi only want you.â nanami must have realised how much you needed to hear that, the same way he had needed your confirmation earlier, because his voice is more resolute this time. âand thisââ his hand moves to cup yours, guiding your movements as he slowly drags your hand over his cock. âsâall for you, sweetheart.â
one hand reaches for the back of your neck, holding you tenderly as he peppers kisses on your lips and all over your neck.
the other hand, though, moves deviously between your thighs, a singular digit plunging into your soaked cunt.Â
nanami relishes the way you gasp into his mouth, back arching off the couch as all sorts of pretty sounds drip from your flushed lips.
i love you.
i still love you, after all this time.
he doesnât say it out loud - no, it isnât the right time.Â
but he repeats it loudly enough inside his head, hoping that somehow, you might hear it too.Â
â^. .^ââ synopsis: nanami wakes up in a hospital - confused, dazed, and suddenly kissed by his attractive doctor. who turns out to be his wife that he can't remember.
word count: 2.7k
nanami wakes to the sound of persistent beeping.
at first, he thinks it must be his alarm clock. but it can't be, he reasons, because it's not an uninterrupted noise. rather, it's flicking on and off in a consistent rhythm.
the next thing he notices is the smell. harsh disenfectants, a mix of citrus and bleach. it lacks the smell of his laundry detergent - sandalwood and bergamot - and now that he thinks about it, his sheets were never this itchy and dry.
when he forces open his eyes, they're immediately blinded by the flourscent lighting up ahead. his eyes blinking furiously against the white burst of light to adjust to his surroundings.
he realizes his regular suit has been replaced with a hospital gown, white and frumpy with printed blue squares. his feet are bare against the stale white sheets, the same shade of white as the walls enveloping the room. the darkness outside the window tells him that he must've woken up late at night. a quiet ticking clock on the wall confirms his suspicions - 10.28pm.
the beeping, it turns out, was his heart monitor. situated carefully next to a small bedside table with water and an untouched sandwich. there's a small note next to it, in beautiful cursive writing someone has written - 'feed yourself, kento!' - in black sharpie. examining the sandwich up closer, he can see it's turkey and pesto (his favorite).
to his left, there's a single chair with a cardigan draped over it (a cardigan certainly not belonging to him, nanami notes). on the seat, there's a newspaper open to a crossword puzzle and a pen resting carefully on top.
trying to get a closer look at the crossword, he sits up, nearly swearing out loud from the sharp pain shooting up his left side. his heart mointor goes wild, the silence of the room broken, when he instinctively pulls down his blanket to see a nasty gash along his side.
within a few seconds, he hears hurried footsteps down the hallway and the door slams open.
"you're awake." you say, relieved. you almost sound like you're about to cry, which he finds strange, but chalks it up to you being a very attentive doctor.
the next thing he notices is that you're really pretty. the kind of pretty that would have made him blush profusely in his 20s and stoically stare at from a distance in hopes that you'd make a move first. you smell like daisies and fresh rain; you smile at him so dazzingly that his words turn to mush.
you then suddenly rush towards him, tossing your clipboard onto the chair, before grabbing his face and kissing him. his mind short circuits at the sudden contact, face flushing red at the unsolicited kiss. his whole body is buzzing with electricity, your sticky lipgloss staining his lips, and he almost has to surpress his whine when you pull away looking confused.
"...are you alright?" you question him, noticing your husband seems more quiet and stiff than usual.
nanami coughs awkwardly, attempting to calm his beating heart.
"i... i'm not sure how professional it is to kiss your patients, doctor." he says earnestly, but you (to his surprise) laughs him off.
"oh come on, nanami. you're acting like it's the first time." you quip, shaking your head sideways.
he's genuinely confused.
"is it not?"
you open your mouth again, ready to give him a sassy remark, but the words die in your mouth when you see that serious glint in his eyes.
lack of sleep before the mission. blunt force trauma to the head. submersion in freezing water for five minutes before geto could pull him out.
all things, logically speaking, which could result in temporary amnesia.
"you're... you're joking, right?" you trail off, hoping for even a flicker of amusment on his face. "please say you're joking."
his heart breaks at how desparate your tone becomes, but no matter how hard he tries to remember, he can't seem to find you amongst his memories.
"i-i'm sorry. do we... know each other?"
there's a beat of silence as his question hangs heavy in the air. you seem to swallow nervously, eyes shifting down to the floor as if you're lost in thought before you look back up at him with an unreadable look on your face.
"what'd you think?" you mumble quietly, raising your left hand. a diamond ring with rose details shines back at him, and suddenly nanami can feel the weight of a ring on his own left hand.
but before he can respond, a nurse is calling for you.
"I'll be back in a bit. just... eat something and rest, okay?"
nanami has so many questions he wants to ask you, his wife that he can't remember, but you're gone in an instant with an apologetic look.
what lingers is your smell, your perfume haunting the room for hours before he eventually falls back asleep.
his head plagued with questions.
==================
it's been three days since he's woken up.
so far, you've been in his room daily to monitor his vitals, ask him the usual questions (how have you been eating, any odd pain, do you need your sheets changed), and swap out the usual hospital food with his favorite foods. he suppresses the urge to ask how you know what he wants to eat so easily, and it becomes clear that you're putting in an effort to keep your distance from him.
you no longer smile wide and bright as you did the first time he saw you, your lips always pressed in a professional smile and your body never hovering closer than a few inches from him.
he misses you. there's an odd ache in his body when you're near, like he's trying to hold onto a ghost from his past that's too close and too far from him at the same time. he swears he still tastes your lipgloss when he anxiously licks his lips, which drives him even more insane.
he manages to get a few answers out of you during the routine checks. he asks anything, in hopes it'll spark his memories, but also because he can't stand the silence in the room.
the heavy tension as you avoid his gaze, whilst simultaneously staring at him from the corner of your eyes whenever you're in the room.
"where do we live?"
"fifteen minutes from ueno."
"how long till i get discharged?"
"depends on your vitals, but i'd say maybe another 36 hours."
"are you taking care of yourself?" nanami can't help but ask you that one day, when you look particularly tired and drained.
you give him a weary smile, nodding weakly.
"mostly. don't worry, our neighbours are keeping an eye on yuki."
his throat runs dry at that answer, his mind suddenly flashing with imaginations of a young girl the spitting image of you and nanami.
"yuki? is that... our daughter?" he asks carefully, his heart racing.
your eyes become so wide and you nearly choke on your spit.
"oh! uh... no. yuki's our cat. she's a really sweet, white cat we adopted from a shelter a few months back. she's two." you trail off, feeling guilty. "sorry, I forgot that you would've forgotten that yuki is our cat too."
nanami just quietly thanks you and doesn't press the subject further.
but the image of yours and his fictional daughter lingers.
true to your word, nanami gets his clean bill of health confirmed the next day and his belongings are returned to him in a meticulous manner. changing out of his hospital gown, his old clothes feel foreign against his skin.
staring at himself in the mirror, he traces every curve and dip on his face in an attempt to spark a memory. he knows his name. his friends. dreadfully, his work. but the past two years feels like a blank in his memory, ripped out pages of an incomplete sketchbook.
splashing water onto his face, he steps out the bathroom, feeling more on edge than ever. whilst waiting for you in the reception room, he can't help himself from nervously adjusting his cuff links and fiddling with his tie.
because he's going home. with you.
"ready?" you ask, slinging your bag over your shoulder. you've changed out of the uniform he's gotten so used to seeing - now in a loose tank top with a cherry print on it and form fitting jeans. your lipgloss has become more sheer through out the day, and you're wearing less mascara than usual.
"you look beautiful." he comments, without really thinking it through. you seem embarrassed by the compliment, ducking your head to avoid his gaze.
"thank you."
he purses his lips because you're still avoiding his gaze. it doesn't feel right, even if he doesn't know you as well as you know him.
"please don't look away."
it's the first time he's addressed the fact that you've been avoiding looking at him directly, making you freeze in place.
"please." he nearly whispers it, and you can't find it in your heart to refuse him.
you take in a small breath, mustering up the courage to look at him square in the eyes.
"okay."
he wordlessly takes your bag from your shoulder, trailing behind you as you walk towards your car in the parking lot. he also refuses to let you open the car door by yourself, placing his spare hand on the ceiling so you won't bump your head as you sit down.
it's so routine, you almost forget that he doesn't remember anything.
and he stills sits in the seat next to you, not the back seat. and he switches the radio to the station he'd always listen to, without being prompted to.
"are you alright?" nanami questions, noticing how your eyes are becoming watery.
you're barely able to croak out that you're fine before pulling out of the driveway, your thoughts a complete mess on the drive home.
==================
"this is the living room.... we had a bit of an argument over what color to paint the walls but we eventually settled on sage green because it's calming. though-" you chuckle, mostly to yourself. "you always insisted it wasn't an argument because you'd always let me win."
it's strange, for nanami, getting a tour of his own house. but he dutifully follows behind you, nodding along to each of your descriptions, analysing every nook and cranny of the apartment.
the kitchen is sleek but homey. DIY tiles, vintage kitchenware, vase of sunflowers in the middle of the table.
the bathroom is small but clean. his aftershave and razor sits untouched next to your bottles of perfume and makeup brushes. a crinkled book settled by the bath tub tells him that you're a fan of reading in the bath.
the office room is busy but organized, stacked high with books and files belonging to him. there's a few odd artifacts here and there - souvenirs from travels abroad, you say - and he spots a photo frame with you hugging him from behind. the scenery says malaysia, but he can't make out the exact date of the photo.
"and this... is the bedroom." you wait for him to look around the room by himself, standing at the doorway awkwardly as you wait for the right thing to say.
it's nearly 11pm now, and you're so tired that you want nothing more than to curl up next to him and sleep.
but that would be highly inappropriate, you reason, given that he's a stranger now.
"i've already laid out your clothes for the night on the corner of the bed." you explain slowly. "i've already taken out my stuff for the night, so don't worry."
he spins around and stares at you, confused.
"but then where would you be sleeping?"
you shrug, trying to come off nonchalant.
"i figured you'd want to sleep alone on your first night. what with the temporary amnesia and all." even the word amnesia leaves a sour taste on your mouth as you admit it out loud. "i can sleep on the couch in the living room, it's fin-"
nanami shakes his head sideways immediately.
"nonesense. no lady should be sleeping on a sofa. i'll take the couch, you should take the bed."
"are you-"
"yes, i'm completely sure. i will not have you sleep outside in your own home." he replies sternly, the glint in his eyes oh so familiar. a warning sign that it's not up for debate, he's made up his mind.
"it's your home too." you respond quietly. but nanami catches it, and his stern look falls for a short second.
"i... i know, but... please. i couldn't bear the thought of you sleeping on a sofa after a hospital shift."
"okay."
after moving over a few pillows and a blanket for him to the sofa, and an awkward exchange of 'good nights', you shut the bedroom door behind you and crawl into bed.
suddenly, the bed feels too cold and empty. the blankets are overwhelmingly heavy and hot against your skin, and the ceiling fan seems to be louder than usual. the heaviness of the situation begins to set in and before you know it, you're crying.
salty tears streaking down your face, body shivering under the sheets as you grieve what you've lost.
two years of marriage - gone.
he tries to hide it, but whenver he looks at you, you feel it in your guts.
you're a stranger to him.
and now, you fear he may never remember you again.
it might've been twenty minutes. or a full hour, you're not sure.
but in the complete darkness, you can't tell the passage of time before you hear a soft knock on the door.
"it's nanami." he announces himself, as if you wouldn't know that it was him (if you were in a better mood, it'd probably make you laugh). "can i come in?"
wiping the tears from your face as fast as you can, you sit up to face the door.
"y-yes. come in."
even in the pitch darkness, you can imagine nanami's beautiful face scrunching up in worry, his figure slowly moving towards you in the dark.
"i heard you crying." he whispers, and the tenderness in his voice nearly threatens to break you again.
"i'm sorry, i should've been more quiet." you reply, as he sits down on the bed across from you.
"it's fine, i.... fuck, it's not fine."
you blink in surprise, knowing that it was rare to hear nanami swear.
"of course it's not fine, i can't imagine how painful this whole ordeal must be for you. you've been incredibly strong and brave to tolerate me this long. i am just amazed that i would've managed to land someone like you as my wife."
you want to respond, but all you can feel is the wave of sadness rushing over you again, his sweet words piercing your heart like daggers.
"i... i can't sleep." you whisper into the night. it feels easier to admit it when it's dark, and you can't see how intensely he'd be looking into your eyes, as if he's staring into your soul.
"could i stay with you?" nanami asks, before clarifying. "until you fall asleep."
"you can stay for as long as you want."
his weight leaves the mattress for a moment before he settles down next to you, his familiar cologne washing over your senses.
"can i... hug you?" he asks, voice so gentle, as if he's afraid you're going to break at any moment.
"yes please." you manage to get out, before you're full on sobbing again, staining his shirt with your tears. his arms are now around your back as he scoops you onto his chest, his rough fingers drawing soothing circles on your back. his lips find his way to the crown of your head, and he wishes nothing more but to take some of the pain away from you.
but he can't.
"i'm so, so sorry love." he whispers against your head, lips trembling. "i wish i could remember."
you don't respond, rather, you can't. he's hugging you in bed like everything's normal. he's speaking to you as if he's your nanami, your husband, the same nanami who would bring home pastries on his way back from work and take baths with you on nights you couldn't sleep.
eventually, you feel emptied out of your tears, your limbs finally feeling heavy. his steady heartbeat against your ears lulls you to sleep, your fingers naturally grasping his thin shirt, crinkling the fabric.
"don't leave." you whisper, half-asleep.
"i won't." he whispers back, hugging you closer.
that's the last confirmation you need before your breathing evens out and he's sure you're asleep, your chest rising and falling in regular rhythms.
and despite nanami's eyes begging to close, his mind feels wide awake and sleep won't come to him easily. his nerves are on fire as he hugs you closer to his frame.
looking at your face in the dark, the small green glow of the alarm clock carving shadows onto your face, he presses a small kiss to your forehead and swears to himself he'll remember.
he'll die trying if he has to.
a/n: second ever fic on this blog! i was feeling angsty/slow burn today so wanted to give the loss memory trope a try. seriously am a sucker for pining gentleman!nanami. apologies for any medical inaccuracies in this fic btw i'm not a med student/professional so i googled a few things and called it a day lmao. lowkey tempted to write a part 2 to this if this does well :)
áŻâ likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! áŻâ
âI want mama!â your son screams, tears filling up his eyesâthe same color as Nanamiâs.
And speaking of NanamiâŚhe feels helpless.
The boy wonât stop crying, wonât stop calling for you. His little face is red and scrunched up, his cheeks wet, chest heaving with each shaky breath. Youâd told him youâd be gone for a few hoursâexplained it gently, with a kiss to his forehead and a promise that Papa would take care of everything. But none of it seemed to matter.
Youâre gone and his world feels like itâs ended.
âPlease, babyâŚMum will be back any time soon.â Nanami spares a glance at the clock, in thirty minutes youâd be here. âShould we finish your meal in the meantime, mh?â He tries, voice tight, panic folding over his usual calm.
But your son only screams louder, fists pounding the highchair tray, tears flowing freely.
Itâs been hours, and Nanami has come to the conclusion that :Â he doesnât want me.
He stares at his sonâs red, tear-slicked face. Thereâs no hatred in it, just unfiltered, helpless longing.
âI want Mamaaaaaa!!â Nanami flinches. Exactly, the toddler is longing for you.
The little boyâs small chest rises and falls in erratic sobs, hiccupping on the edge of breathlessness.
Nanami exhales slowly through his nose. You can do this, he tells himself. Youâre his father. You can do this.
So, he tries.
He pulls out the little wooden train you carved together one weekend. Places it on the floor. âDo you want to show Papa how fast it goes again?â he asks, voice as gentle as possible.
No response.
He tries the animal bookâthe one with flaps and texture that always make him giggle. âTell Papa whereâs the lion. Can you find the lion for me?â
Nothing.
Just a heartbreaking, hoarse little âMamaâŚâ
Nanami even tries to put on the cartoon with the talking blue bear. The one your son usually dances to.
As nothing seems to work, Kento feels his heart breaking inch by inch. He picks him up despite the flailing little arms, holds him against his chest, firm but not tight, like youâve teached him.
His son wonât stop. Not even a little. The screams turn into an open-mouthed wail, the kind that turns cheeks purple and voices raw for hours.Â
Nanamiâs hands tremble slightly. He sits down on the floor with the boy in his lap, gently cradling him, head bowed. Heâs never felt this powerless.
Not during cursed missions, not under pressureâbut here, in his own home, with his child breaking apart in his arms⌠He feels not enough.
Not soft enough.
Not warm enough.
Not you.
âIâm sorry,â he whispers into the crown of his sonâs head. âIâm trying. Papaâs trying so hard.â                Â
And thatâs when the front door creaks open. âIâm home!â
And just like that, your sonâs head snaps up from where heâs been sobbing into Nanamiâs lap. Your husband doesnât even have the time to rise to his feet that the boy is squirming violently in his arms, âmama! Mama! MAMA!!â Nanami lets him go without resistance. He stands slowly as your son flings himself into your arms when you appear in the doorway.
Concern is written all over your face. âIâm here, baby. Iâm hereâŚâ  you look up and see Nanami standing a few feet away, shoulders sagging, eyes tired behind his glasses.
âheâs been crying for hours,â he says softly. âdidnât want anything from me. Wouldnât eat. Wouldnât play.â
You nod as your rubs your sonâs back. âIâm sorry. Heâs just been going through this clingy phase.âÂ
âI know.â Nanami offers a tired smile, though it doesnât reach his eyes. âitâs okay.â
Later, after dinner and a bath your son is finally asleep, curled on your side of the shared bed, clutching one of your shirts tightly, your scent comforting him.
Nanami stands in the doorway, arms crosses, watching the soft rise and fall of your kid. You come up behind him, circling his waist with your arms, letting your cheek rest on his strong back.
One of his hands intertwin with yours. âHe wouldnât even let me hold him,â he says, barely above a whisper. âIâve never felt thatâŚuseless before.â
âKentoâŚâ
âI know heâs still small. I know itâs not personal. ButâŚâ he pauses, swallowing hard. âI tried everything. Toys, books, food, music. He didnât want any of it. It felt likeâŚlikeâŚI wasnât enough. I wasnâtâŚprobably am, not a good dad.â
Your heart twists at the words. âCan you please turn to face me, love?â
He lets out a deep exhale, like the breath hurts to let go, and turns. When his eyes meet yours, you feel like the weight of the whole world just collapsed onto your chest.Â
Nanami is silently crying.
His eyes are rimmed red, and cheeks drenched wet.
You gently cup his jaw. âYou were more than enough Kento. You held him even when he didnât want to be held. You didnât get angry. You didnât walk away. You didnât even raise your voice once. Thatâs not just âenoughâ. Thatâs what a good dad does. Thatâs love.â
He closes his eyes, leaning into your touch as more tears gather in his long blonde lashes. âI justâŚâ his voice breaks. âI just wanted to be what he needed.â
Nanami wraps his arms around you tighter, letting his forehead drop to your shoulder. He breathes into your neck, letting your scent comforting himÂâjust like his son does.
âI donât mind not being the favorite,â he murmurs after a while, his voice quiet and raw. âBut I hope, one day, heâll reach for me too.â
You press a kiss the top of his head, pulling him impossibly closer to you. âHe will. And when he doesâŚhe wonât want to let go.â
thinking about coworker Kento Nanami, who is respected by the entire office (and feared by some) everybody calls him Nanami-san, as he has asked to be called, and the rookies also call him that, picking on the coworkers, except for one bold person, Y/N L/N from the HR department.
You're the only one who can call him by his first name and he doesn't mind. You don't usually come around to where he is, but whenever you do, everyone notices how you call him so frankly.
Everybody was intrigued by the mystery and while they felt it too rude to directly ask you, who had once replied, he's a dear friend, they didn't have the guts to ask why Nanami-san never stopped you from saying that.
They all got their answer one day when one rookie, who heard you call him that to no consequence, called him by that name, Kento-san.
Stilling in his tracks, he turned around to find a young boy asking him something.
The entire office held its breath as they watched him first answer the rookie's question, then ask, "Are you new here?"
"yes, sir."
"Then I would ask you to call me by my last name."
"But," the puzzled worker pointed in the door's direction, "the lady called you by that?"
"That's because she's my wife." Calmly answering, he picked up his ringing phone and strode out, leaving the entire workplace in a state of stunned silence.
No thoughts. Just the overwhelming, helpless need to bite Nanami.
You tell your husband, slowly, blinking up at him with big, pleading eyes as you mumble, âI just⌠wanna bite you.â And bless his heart, he tries his best to understand. Even if heâs still reeling from the time you whispered with complete sincerity that you wanted to breed him. Heâs learned to roll with it.
âLove bites?â he guesses, voice warm and patient. Raising a brow. âYou want to leave marks on me?â
You nod, but itâs not as sultry as he expects, a bit too eager. Needy. As if youâre trying not to cry from the sheer ache of wanting to sink your teeth into your husbandâs arm.
He leans back on the couch and tilts his head to expose his neck, eyes closing with a soft smile. âGo ahead, sweetheart. Just keep it where I can hide it.â
Except⌠you donât go for his neck.
No. You lean forward, trembling with giddy affection, and bite into his arm. A little too hard. Right into that strong, muscular bicep. He grunts in surprise. Opens one eye.
You do it again.
Then a nip to his pec. A soft little mouthing to his chest. Your fingers curl against his shirt, face flushed and dazed, youâre not even aware of how weird youâre being, you just need to bite. To mark. To feel him against your teeth, your mouth, your everything.
And all he can do is blink down at you, completely astonished. His sweet wife is a feral thing with no concept of restraint. And sheâs currently gnawing on him like a chew toy.
But the moment youâre done, you just melt. Press your face against the chest you bit a million times, letting out a tiny sigh, voice muffled as you whisper, âThank you⌠I feel better now.â
He should probably be concerned. Instead, he gently strokes your hair, kisses your forehead, and tucks you into his chest, putting all concerns into a folder in the back of his mind.
"I'm glad you got that out of your system, must've been very hard,â he whispers with a smile. Running his fingers through your hair. He doesn't really understand your feral habits. But he's growing to love them as much as he loves you.
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