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noise dept.
Andulka
macklin celebrini has autism
Mike Driver
TMBGareOK. The Official They Might Be Giants tumblr
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
occasionally subtle
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Xuebing Du
Cosmic Funnies
blake kathryn
🩵 avery cochrane 🩵
tannertan36
Cosimo Galluzzi
Origami Around
todays bird
pixel skylines
The Stonewall Inn
Noah Kahan
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Thailand
seen from Guatemala
seen from United States
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Netherlands
seen from T1
seen from United Kingdom
seen from South Africa
seen from Ukraine
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from Türkiye
seen from Georgia
seen from T1
seen from United States
seen from South Africa
seen from Brazil
@nanamibambidoll
Sylus and Caleb short head cannon ✨
One of my head cannon for sylus is that he jerks off to the thoughts/ pictures of us, the thrill of knowing we own him body and soul. The pride of being sole-bound to us.
And for Caleb he also jerks to the thought of us but feels guilty because its wrong and then feel Happy cause of the guilt and wrongness of thinking of us in that way😔
President Nanami Kento, who is in love with you, the head cyber security for the president, the first time he saw you after you defended him and gave a snarky remark to a rude reporter and has been obsessed with you ever since then.
President Nanami Kento, who secretly stalks your socials with a secret account, saves, likes and always comments on your video.
@.booksandtea.:your outfit looks beautiful on you, dear
@.booksandtea: Bali does make your skin pop out so nicely, sweetie.
@.booksandtea.: Always make sure to check your surroundings, sweetheart. Be safe.
President Nanami Kento, Who pays the press to say nice things about him to impress you ( Does it with an anonymous account tho, can’t have it traced back to him)
President Nanami Kento, who secretly jerks off to videos of you talking to the press.
President Nanami Kento, Who low-key loves it when the people ship you with him.
President Nanami Kento, who is a big freak and pervert.
President Nanami Kento, who always sabotages all your relationships, tells you they are not good for you and that you need no one else but him.
President Nanami Kento, who thinks he is being discreet, he doesn't know you know all about his obsession with you after all it's your job as a head cyber security to monitor and keep your president safe. But you keep quiet because it's hot and cute to you.
Hiya Hiya, First fanfic! I'm so nervous and excited :)
P.s English is not my first language so please pardon any errors you come across🩷
My Stalker Calls Himself My Husband
Summary: The first person to tell me I had a husband wasn't him. It was a stranger. The problem is... I've never met the man everyone insists is my husband
The first time I heard I had a husband, it didn’t come from him.
I’d just slogged through another ten-hour shift and stopped at the grocery store for frozen pizza, coffee, and the promise of eight uninterrupted hours of sleep. When the cashier scanned my last item, she smiled and said, “Your husband is so thoughtful.”
I froze. “Excuse me?”
She handed me my bags. “He already paid for everything.”
My smile vanished. “I’m…sorry?”
She nodded toward the entrance. “That silver-haired gentleman said you’d argue if he offered.”
My stomach knotted. “I think you’ve got the wrong person.”
“But he knew your name,” she insisted. “He even called you sweetheart.”
The bags slipped from my fingers and thudded onto the counter. “What?”
She blanched. “He told me, ‘Tell my wife to drive home safely.’”
Every hair on my arms prickled. “I’m not married.”
She swallowed hard, eyes wide. “Oh… I—I thought—”
I turned to the glass doors. Storm clouds overhead churned as rain hammered the parking lot. Shoppers hurried to cars under the harsh glow of streetlights. But there was no silver-haired stranger, no shadow watching me. Just empty asphalt and wind-blown trash.
When I looked back, the cashier kept apologizing. I forced a tight smile and lied, “It must be a misunderstanding.” I wanted to believe it.
That night, I wondered if I was losing my mind—until I saw him.
I’d just locked my windows when a movement across the street caught my eye. Beneath the only working streetlight, a man stood perfectly still as rain sluiced off his shoulders. He didn’t check his phone or glance around. He was staring right at my window. Tall, broad-shouldered, utterly motionless. A chill slithered down my spine as I reached for the curtains. When I blinked again, he was gone.
Morning logic told me I’d dreamed it: the grocery store faux pas, the streetlamp figure—just exhaustion and stress doing tricks on me. By the time I came home from work that day, I almost believed it.
But the moment I opened my apartment door, I knew someone had been inside. My bookshelf—every novel was now sorted from tallest to shortest. I’d never arranged them. The blanket I’d tossed over the couch was folded neatly. Even the coffee mug I’d forgotten in the sink was washed, dried, and put away. Everything was in place, spotless, untouched by dust. Whoever had come through my home hadn’t taken a thing.
I called the police. Two officers combed every corner—closets, windows, fire escape—found no sign of forced entry and no fingerprints beyond mine. “No security footage of anyone entering,” the younger officer reported. “It’s like no one was here.”
I trembled. “That can’t be.”
The senior officer offered a kind smile. “Stress can do odd things to memory.”
They left. I was alone again.
Later that night, exactly at 9:13 p.m., three slow, deliberate knocks echoed through the apartment. Knock. Knock. Knock. I peered through the peephole. No one. When I opened the door, a black gift box tied with a crimson ribbon lay on the welcome mat. I stared at it five full minutes before carrying it inside.
Inside the box were white lilies, dark chocolate, a silver bracelet, my favorite tea, and a bottle of perfume—the exact expensive scent I’d tried on two weeks ago before setting it back on the shelf. Beneath the gifts lay an envelope in elegant, looping script:
You looked disappointed when you put the perfume back. You deserve nice things. Love, your husband.
My heart sank. A smaller line, as if added later, read:
You really should stop skipping lunch.
I dropped the note. No one knew I’d been skipping lunch except me. I flung the flowers, chocolate, bracelet, tea, and perfume into the dumpster behind the building. Then I locked every door, barred every window, and slept with all the lights on.
Just after midnight, my phone rang. “Unknown Number.” I stared until it stopped. Then it rang again. I answered on a shaky breath.
“Hello?”
Silence—only a slow, steady breath, the whisper of someone listening.
“Who is this?” I demanded.
Nothing. I hung up. The line went dead. Sleep found me after three a.m., but it felt like only moments later when I woke to the familiar, bone-deep certainty a child knows: someone was watching me. I opened my eyes and saw a figure at the foot of my bed—tall, silent, unmoving. Terror pinned me under the covers as the figure tilted its head. Then it took a single step backward into the darkness and vanished. All that remained was the faint trace of expensive cologne.
Morning brought no comfort. I resigned from my job, ended my lease, bought a burner phone, deleted every social account, closed my bank cards, and moved eight hundred miles away. New city, new apartment, new furniture, new routine—I even cut my hair. For three blissful weeks, nothing happened. No calls, no gifts, no silhouettes under streetlights. I laughed again and began sleeping with the lights off.
Then one afternoon at a café near my new office, the barista beamed as she handed me a coffee. “Oh! Your husband already picked up your latte.”
My hand went limp. “My what?”
“The silver-haired gentleman,” she said, nodding toward the window. “He just left.”
My blood froze. Outside, the sidewalk was empty. I raced home, double- and triple-locking every door, scouring every room. It was spotless—just as before.
That night, my phone buzzed with an Unknown Number. I blocked it. Five seconds later—another. Block. Again and again until thirty-seven numbers lit my screen. Then silence. Relief flooded me, and I crawled into bed…until I heard it: a floorboard creaking in the living room, then slow, deliberate footsteps moving toward my bedroom door.
Heart hammering, I fumbled for the handgun I’d stashed in my bedside drawer. The footsteps stopped. Outside my door, there was one breathless moment—then a click, and the doorknob turned.
I threw the door open to an empty hallway. Confused, I stepped back into my room. The door behind me closed itself.
He was there.
Taller than I’d expected, silver hair glinting in the moonlight, crimson eyes fixed on me with unsettling warmth. He wore a flawless black coat and leather gloves, as if dressed for a special evening rather than breaking in. His gaze flicked to the gun in my hand and back to my face, and then he smiled—not cruelly, but with profound relief, as though seeing me safe had washed away his own weeks of worry.
I barely found my voice. “Who are you?”
He looked pained, as if I’d asked something impossible. “You don’t recognize me?”
His confusion and that soft sorrow in his eyes were heart-wrenching—and terrifying.
"I was afraid of that."
He took one slow step forward. The floorboard beneath him didn't creak.
I raised the gun.
"Don't move!"
He stopped immediately. Hands open at his sides, fingers spread, palms facing me. The gesture was practiced. Familiar. Like he'd done it before—with me specifically.
"My name is Sylus."
Something about the way he said it. Like correcting a mistake.
"I don't care who you are."
"You will."
My pulse was loud in my ears. The gun felt suddenly very light.
"How did you get in here?"
He reached into his coat pocket. I watched his elbow, not his face—the way you're supposed to. My finger found the trigger's resistance.
His hand came back out holding something small and silver.
My apartment key.
The spare. The one I kept in the back of the kitchen drawer, underneath the takeout menus, behind the rubber bands. The one no one knew about.
He turned it slowly between two fingers, the way you'd turn a coin. Unhurried.
"You hide things in predictable places, kitten.”
The room felt smaller.
"Stay the hell away from me."
"I can't."
His voice was soft. Not the softness of someone trying to deceive—the softness of someone trying not to startle a bird back into flight.
"I've already lost you once and I refuse to lose you again.”
"I don't know what you're talking about!"
Something shifted in his expression. Not anger. Something worse.
Confusion.
Genuine confusion, as though I'd said something that didn't make sense.
"You keep saying that."
"Because it's true!"
His smile faltered. Just briefly—a crack in a wall, quickly mortared over. When it came back it was the same smile, only heavier. Carrying something.
"You really don't remember."
"Remember what?"
"Our life." He said it the way you'd say *the sun.* A thing that simply existed.
I didn't speak.
"Our home." A step closer. "Our wedding."
"No."
"Our promises."
"No—stop—"
"You are not my husband!"
He went still. His eyes moved across my face the way you read something you've read before, searching for the line where you left off. Looking for the version of me he recognized. Finding only a stranger wearing my face.
He exhaled.
"I was hoping your memories would come back on their own."
The gun was shaking. I realized distantly that my hands were shaking.
"What memories? There are no memories. I have never seen you before in my life."
He smiled again. The same patient, terrible smile.
"We'll make new ones. Just be patient."
It was the gentleness that undid me. There was no menace in his voice, no performance of threat—just the quiet, load-bearing certainty of a man who had already decided how this ended. A man who was not afraid of the gun because he did not believe I would use it on him. A man who looked at me the way you look at someone who is confused and frightened and simply needs time.
He took one final step. The distance between us became something I could measure in breath.
His eyes were crimson. Not dramatically, not like a costume—just a deep, dark red, the color of old wood or dried roses, and they had not left mine since he walked in.
"I finally found you, sweetie."
The word landed like a stone dropped into still water.
And then, from the front of the apartment, came a sound.
Small. Mechanical. Unmistakable.
The door, locking itself.
Sighhh I loveee unhinged sylus
"Sweetie..." comes a long, tired sigh from behind. Hands soon follow, slipping under your shirt to soak up the warmth of your tummy and the softness of your skin. You're pulled back into a broad chest. His head settles last, forehead dropping to your shoulder, bangs drooping. "It's the middle of the day..."
You scoff. Yes, even though you changed your schedule around to match his, always pitying his sensitive eyes and how grumpy he can be during the day when he should be sleeping, your own cravings can't wait. Besides, what's the point of having a window in the kitchen if you can't bask in the warm sunlight that streams through it?
"I wanted something cheesy," you say. "So I'm makin' something cheesy!"
In the pan in front of you, a grilled cheese simmers on the heat. The cheese melts, slowly becoming gooey and twice as appealing to your mid-morning brain. The bread becomes toasted and golden brown, with the perfect crunch just waiting to reach your mouth.
"I'll be back soon. Go back to bed."
He hums his disapproval. "Can't sleep when you're not there." Seemingly catching up to his own words, he sighs over-dramatically. "I can't believe my lover would force me to sleep in a bed so empty and cold... So cruel to me."
You snicker, plating your grilled cheese. "Yes, I know, I'm soooo terrible. Do you want a bite?"
Waiting for his answer, you cut the sandwich at a diagonal with the spatula. Your stomach growls, so eager for that first bite. And still, you hold up one half of the sandwich up near your shoulder for him.
After a moment, he hums and lifts his head. Like a child, he opens his mouth and waits for you to feed him, chin resting on your shoulder. You bump his lip at first. He takes a big bite, chews slowly, humming his satisfaction, before ducking his head again to hide from the sun.
He waits there, standing pressed close against you, as you eat your craving. His fingers slowly trace ticklish patterns along your belly and sides. One hand presses down the hem of your pants and underwear, not all the way, and not far enough to be salacious; just to feel more of your skin.
You don't get a chance to clean up once you've finished. With a gentle scratch at his head to tell him you're done, Sylus lifts you up under your arms, carrying you like an oversized plushie all the way back to your bedroom. You feel like a plushie, too, when he smothers you under the covers, wrapping you tightly in his arms and throwing a leg over your hip. There's no way you're getting out again, not if you big cuddly dragon has anything to say about it.
Slow sex with sylus🌚
Imagine you just woke up from a nap right now, you dreamt you had slow sensational sex with sylus, in a candlelight room, low light with smoothing music; speechless by Beyonce was playing in the background.
You both held hands while he slowly moved inside you, murmuring sweet sweet praise😩😩
Yeah... Ovulation is bad mannn😩😭😂
President Nanami Kento, who is in love with you, the head cyber security for the president, the first time he saw you after you defended him and gave a snarky remark to a rude reporter and has been obsessed with you ever since then.
President Nanami Kento, who secretly stalks your socials with a secret account, saves, likes and always comments on your video.
@.booksandtea.:your outfit looks beautiful on you, dear
@.booksandtea: Bali does make your skin pop out so nicely, sweetie.
@.booksandtea.: Always make sure to check your surroundings, sweetheart. Be safe.
President Nanami Kento, Who pays the press to say nice things about him to impress you ( Does it with an anonymous account tho, can’t have it traced back to him)
President Nanami Kento, who secretly jerks off to videos of you talking to the press.
President Nanami Kento, Who low-key loves it when the people ship you with him.
President Nanami Kento, who is a big freak and pervert.
President Nanami Kento, who always sabotages all your relationships, tells you they are not good for you and that you need no one else but him.
President Nanami Kento, who thinks he is being discreet, he doesn't know you know all about his obsession with you after all it's your job as a head cyber security to monitor and keep your president safe. But you keep quiet because it's hot and cute to you.
Hiya Hiya, First fanfic! I'm so nervous and excited :)
P.s English is not my first language so please pardon any errors you come across🩷
Hi! Help please 😭 I'm looking for a fic I read months ago where nanami was teaching ino how to pleasure reader. And now I can't find it💔
mornings with nanami ｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅
the house was unusually quiet. normally by this time, nanami would already be dressed for work and halfway through answering emails while drinking coffee that had long gone cold. instead, sunlight peaked the curtains and illuminated the unexpected sight of your husband still asleep beside you.
you studied him for a moment. his phone sat untouched on the bedside table, and looking at the clock, he had somehow slept for nearly three hours later than usual. this felt impossible for you to believe.
a low groan escaped his lips as he shifted beneath the blankets. without opening his eyes, nanami reached across the mattress until his hand found yours. his fingers tightened around it.
“I know you’re staring at me,” nanami says, his voice rough with sleep. his eyes remained closed as he spoke, and he gently tugged on your hand until it was resting against his chest. “you’ve been staring for at least two minutes.”
you couldn’t help laughing. “you weren’t even awake.”
“I am now.”
“you literally had your eyes closed.”
nanami finally opened one eye and looked up at you. “that doesn’t mean I wasn’t aware of what was happening.” his arm slid around your waist a moment later, pulling you closer until there was barely any space left between you. “you’re also sitting too far away.”
the seriousness in his voice made you laugh at him. for someone who spent most of his week buried in meetings, deadlines, and endless work calls, he became surprisingly clingy whenever he had free time. it was as though he spent the entire week storing up affection only to unleash all of it the second he got a chance.
the mattress shifted beneath you as he moved closer, pressing his face against your shoulder.
“you know,” you said, glancing at the clock again, “most people are awake by now.”
“most people are exhausting.”
you rolled your eyes. a small smile appeared on his face before he buried it against your shoulder.
then you felt his lips brush against the side of your neck. the kiss was soft, almost absent-minded. you immediately smiled.
“nanami.”
“hm?” he murmured against your skin, peppering you with gentle kisses all over.
you tilted your head slightly. “you’re very clingy today.” lifting your hand over him, running your fingers through his hair,
his response came in the form of another kiss near your jaw. “I haven’t seen my love properly this week,” nanami said quietly. “I’ve been leaving before you’re fully awake and getting home when you’re already half asleep.”
the honesty in his voice made your heart soften.
because he wasn’t wrong. the past few weeks had been especially busy for him. even when he was physically home, part of his attention seemed to be somewhere else.
now, for the first time in what felt like forever, he was completely present.
another kiss landed on your lips. then another and another and ano– you laughed softly. “you’re proving my point.”
“i don’t know what point you’re talking about,” you could practically hear the smile in his voice. “today’s not about work .”
you raised an eyebrow. “no?”
“no,” nanami said, completely serious. “today is about staying in bed with my wife and let her know (and feel) how much I’ve missed her.”
his arm came around your waist, tightened. “let me spoil you today.”
— ᨳଓ .
Hi! Help please 😭 I'm looking for a fic I read months ago where nanami was teaching ino how to pleasure reader. And now I can't find it💔
permission | nanami kento 𑣲⋆｡˚
fluff central. couple not ‘together, together’ yet. au of some kind.
kento nanami always asked first.
when he asked where you wanted to go for your third date, you answered: anywhere with dancehall and good-ass jamaican food.
though not necessarily specific, it left the man on a hunt for almost two days to find the perfect spot to take you, and as soon as did, he booked the reservation.
you heard a knock on your office door at work, and you were quickly met with his gaze as you swung the door open. with his hands clasped behind his back, a comforting exhale left his nose the moment he saw you. his lips rested in a natural line, though his eyes behind his glasses remained soft and neutral.
“picked a spot?” you asked innocently, eyes meeting his gaze above you.
his lips curved into a smile as he rested his forearm on the doorway. forever the gentleman, he stayed outside of your office, suede dress shoes just at the entry.
the kento nanami you knew—the one you knew since starting this job last year—just never realized how sexy he looked unintentionally, just simply towering over you.
“is it okay if i pick you up tonight?”
you shrugged slowly, a chuckle escaping your lips.
“i suppose that’s okay, mr. nanami.”
“i should add that it’s within walking distance of your place,” he stated, arm still rested against the doorway. “if you will allow me, i’d love to walk with you there—and back.”
you twisted back and forth, face scrunched up as if you were truly in deep thought and not screaming internally in excitement. you were completely fine with the offer, but you just wanted to tease the always delighted blonde. you halted your twist and answered:
“i’ll allow.”
“wonderful. i’ll be at your place at 7.”
and at 6:57, mr. kento nanami stood outside of your brownstone, manhattan apartment right above the fenced stairway.
“hello again.” he bowed once you opened the door. as he straightened back up, his eyes met your curls pinned up in a high bun, lifting all of the features he was drawn to since your first day.
“hello kento,” you spoke, voice warm with excitement.
“you look beau-” kento blurted before pausing. he took a calculated gulp in hopes of finding the words he was never used to losing. “your hair,” he stammered. “it’s lovely.”
your eyes then met his fingers outwardly stretch, exposing his full palm. he quickly placed it back in his pant pocket. you bit your lip and met his hazel eyes once again.
“thank you, kento.”
“do you have everything you need?” he looked up at the two clouds wanting to introduce themselves. “i brought an umbrella just in case it rains on the way back.”
“i have everything here.” you showed off your shoulder bag.
you hurriedly exited the brownstone, turning to lock the door, and walked towards kento and the stairs. you slipped your fingers into his as you both walked down.
“is this alright?” he asked beside you.
you reached the end of the stairs and both of your gazes dropped to where both of your hands joined.
“holding your hand?” you asked.
“yes.”
“well, i did grab yours, ken.” you looked up at him eyes scrunched trying to understand the man before you.
“i know,” he responded. his eyes trailed up your arm met your eyes. “i would still rather ask.”
you’ve watched the man negotiate corporate mergers with little to no preparation, but here he was, third date and all, asking if it were okay for you to grab his hands.
“you’re a bit strange, kento,” you said, shaking your head and smiling at him.
mouth curved in a full smile, kento responded: “only a bit?”
“the strangest, actually.”
you both shared a laugh and fell into step beside one another.
the date blurred into a night of warm music, shared plates of oxtail, rices and peas, plantains, and laughter that came from jokes only you two understood. he watched you dance in the middle of the crowd when a song you loved came on, joined when you wanted him to dance—even if you found him slightly stiff, found the quiet corners when you wanted to chat, and made another date simply effortless and easy.
but of course, like always, he asked before he did anything.
when he wanted to pull your chair closer so he could hear you over the music, he asked first.
when a slower song blared through the speakers, he mouthed the words, “would like you to dance,” from his seat to you, who was already on the dance floor.
and when he guided you to the door through the crowd, he turned back and held your hand, pulling you closer to him. he gave you a smile before asking, “still okay?”
walking along the manhattan street, side by side, you were still on a rejuvenated high from the dancehall lounge. you were skipping alongside him at first, lost in bliss of the music that echoed in your mind. spinning as though the world was lighter, you raised your arms towards the night sky.
“you had fun?” kento teasingly asked, admiring your world from up close.
“meh,” you answered, watching your feet attempt to walk across the lines separating blocks of the pavement.
“meh?” he questioned, playfully placing his hand on his chest.
your grin widened.
“okay, i lied. the night was perfect.”
you could feel a bit of raindrops dot your face and shoulders. as you still danced, you caught kento glancing up, letting the rain hit his face as he moved beside you. though late, the city still buzzed around you, headlights reflecting in small puddles of water along the curb.
still grooving to the beat only in your head, you stepped toward the edge of the street.
before you could complete it, a warm hand settled against your waist. your cheeks warmed and breath hitched as kento pulled you away from the curb. your back brushed against his chest for only a second before he guided you to the inside of the sidewalk.
you both continued walking for a moment.
“my apologies,” he finally spoke, breaking the silence.
“for what?”
“for grabbing you like that without asking,” he stated, slight irritation in his tone. “i shouldn’t have had you walking near the street, anyway.”
you stared at him for a moment, remembering you were dealing with the strangest man you ever met, but also the most endearing.
“i was about to walk into traffic. when were you gonna ask me?” you teased.
he shrugged and kept on walking.
“kento.”
“yes?”
“you know you don’t have to ask me all the time.”
he stopped walking and faced you. you noticing him stop, you stopped too and met his towering gaze. his glasses had a few drops painted on them, while his strands of blonde had fallen across his forehead.
for a moment, he only looked at you.
“ask you what?”
“you know…to touch me.”
“well, it wouldn’t be fair to me—or you—to just do what i feel like. especially you,” he replied, biting his lip and furrowing his brows.
his gaze dropped briefly.
“its too bold.”
despite the cold droplets steadily beginning to soak your shirt, a shutter far from the rain spread through your chest.
“well you’re very bold when you insist on leading during our meetings,” you said. “or when you barge into the higher-ups office and tell them they would be making a mistake by laying me off.”
his eyes widened at the last line. you saw as his lips begin to mouth “how did—” before cutting him off.
“never mind that! from what you’ve told me—shown me, you’re very protective of those you care about. that’s bold.”
he had a quick and complete answer for almost anything said to him. but with you, you could see the corner of his eyes scrunch and the adjusting of his fingers whenever he was in a deep conversation with you—like he couldn’t just place you.
he looked down at the puddle below him, his hazel eyes on the reflection of the part that painted you. he met your gaze again.
“well,” he began. “i suppose i’m the boldest when i know i know i’m making the right decisions.”
“well after three dates, i would hope you know whether or not i’m the right decision.”
the rain intensified around you both, splashing onto the pavement.
a small frown painted his face.
“your hair is getting wet.”
you blinked, eyes stinging from the drops.
“okay, yours is too.”
“but i love yours.”
before you could even respond, he reached for your hand and jogged past two further brownstones before reaching your stairway.
as he brought you up the stairs and to your door, he placed his hands above your head—not covering you from all the rain but most.
you stayed facing him instead of turning and unlocking your door for shelter.
“you have to get inside,” kento asserted.
“am i the right decision?”
“pardon?” his brows furrowed, face inching towards you to make sure he heard you correctly.
“you said, you’re the boldest when you know you’re making the right decision,” you retorted. you swallowed hard as you felt your voice began to shake. “so i stand here, before i have to look at you again tomorrow, and i ask you again: am i-”
before you could even finish, kento hands were on your waist, no longer caring how and if the drops land on you. the words he had been attempting to piece together in his head had disappeared as he pulled you even closer and kissed you.
his hands around your waist tightened, but somehow still softened around you, making your shoulders and knees feel almost like putty. your hands managed to find a place around his neck and shoulders.
as your lips separated, he gently placed his forehead against yours, taking deep exhales as the rain continued to bounce off each others shoulders.
“i knew the answer from the moment i saw you,” he breathed. “it’s why i had the courage to talk to you in the first place.”
you could only grin, feeling your stomach flutter.
he gave you a quick peck before he placed his hands above you again, still trying to shield you from the rain.
“well i do have another question for you…”
“go for it.”
“would you like to come in?”
“i would love to.”
when you were unlocking the door, another question popped in your head.
“didn’t you bring an umbrella?”
you turned your head teasingly and watched as his ears changed from his natural hue to pink.
“i left it at the lounge,” he admitted, voice soft. “when i realized, i was too ashamed of myself of risking you having to walk all the way back with me because of my error.”
you only smiled at him before darting your eyes back to door.
“i know, i know: i’m the strangest.”
you chuckled and reached for his hand above you, and led him into your home for the first time.
Omg this is so stinking sweet! 💗
helping nanami ‘decompress’ after work
(nsfw, fluff, tried my best to make nanami how i think he would be while ‘making love’ to you)
──────────୨ৎ────────────
the sheets shift as nanami slides into bed behind you, the mattress dipping under his weight.
his body is cool from the night air, carrying his usual clean scent mixed with something faintly sweet.
he’s already reaching for you, his large hands settling on your waist and leaning down to give you a kiss on the cheek.
“how was work?” you ask.
he makes a small sound, noncommittal.
"the usual. long days of fighting curses, I wonder why I still continue to choose this work path." he says, his thumb stills, then resumes its movement.
"but i'm here now. that's what matters."
he shifts closer, slotting his body against your side, and presses his forehead to your temple.
there are faint shadows beneath his eyes, but his gaze is sharp and focused on you.
“I don’t want you to handle everything alone.” you sigh, leaning into his touch.
“let me do something for you.” you say before deciding to straddle onto his lap, settling on top of him.
he makes a muffled noise, hands falling onto your waist.
"hm. what would that be?" his voice rings out, gently.
you begin to shy away, fiddling with his hands.
"I want to make you feel good. the best you've ever felt." your lips start to find below his jawline, settling small kisses on his neck.
"honey, you always make me feel good." he begins rubbing small circles into your waste, reassuring you he wants you to continue.
"is that okay?" you mumble.
"yes. you're doing perfect, honey." he says, a small smile softly crossing his face before he leans down to kiss your head.
you continue down his neck eventually reaching his chest. your hands carefully work down his shirt button.
nanami watches you, his chest rising and falling a little deeper now.
he doesn't rush you. he never rushes anything. his fingers trace idle patterns along your hips, patient and grounding.
"let me." he murmurs when you fumble slightly on the last button, his own hands moving to help.
he sheds the shirt with the same unhurried precision he applies to everything, though his breath catches just slightly when you press your palm flat against his sternum, feeling his heartbeat.
"you're warm." he observes quietly, almost to himself. his hand covers yours, guiding it lower, past the waistband of his sleep pants.
when you reach the waistband of his pants, you pause, looking up for permission.
"may i?" you ask.
he nods, his throat working. "yes. please."
you undo the clasp slowly, carefully, and he lifts his hips to help you slide them down.
he's already half-hard.
when you wrap your hand around him, he makes a soft, broken sound, polite even in his own pleasure, biting his lower lip.
"is this alright?" you ask, stroking him slowly.
"yes," he breathes, his hips twitching upward before he stills himself.
"yes, that's very good, thank you sweetheart."
you almost smile at his manners, even now.
you lean down and press a kiss to his hipbone, then lower, before you take him into your mouth.
he lets out a restrained grunt, holding himself back.
you begin moving your mouth forward, occasionally looking up at him to make sure he's enjoying what you're doing.
"you're doing so well." he praises, his handing gently moving to the back of your head to guide you.
his praise makes you warm, and you continue, finding a rhythm that makes his breath hitch and his abdominal muscles flex.
before he reaches his peak, he stops you.
"wait," he says suddenly, gently tugging at your shoulder. "come here."
not demanding, anything but that.
you release him and crawl back up, and he immediately pulls you into a kiss, deeper now, hungrier, though still tender.
his hands slide down your back and under your thighs, lifting you easily and settling you on top of him.
"i want to feel you," he murmurs against your lips. "all of you. if that's alright."
"it's alright," you whisper, his hands gently releasing you from your clothes.
as you're both fully naked now, he settles his hand onto your waste to guide you as he helps you sink down onto him.
the stretch is slow, deliberate, and he watches your face with intense focus, his jaw tight with restraint.
"are you comfortable?" he asks, his voice strained but gentle.
"yes," you gasp, settling fully against him. "yes, nanami, you feel—“
he cuts you off with a kiss, his hands firm on your hips, guiding your movements.
you rock against him, finding a rhythm that's unhurried, intimate, the kind that builds slowly like a fire being carefully tended.
"you're beautiful," he tells you, his thumb stroking your hipbone. "so beautiful. thank you for this. thank you for being here."
you lean down and bury your face in his neck, breathing in his scent as you move.
his hands never stop moving either, caressing your back, your sides, your thighs, like he's memorizing all of you.
as you begin to speed up, you breath out his him in a quiet moan.
"nanami,"
"yes," he responds, always responsive, always present. "i'm here. i'm right here."
you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you as the pressure builds up.
the pace quickens slightly, not rushed but needy, and he meets your movements with small thrusts of his own, his breath coming faster now.
he reaches between you, his thumb finding that sensitive spot, and you cry out.
he continues rubbing small circles to help you climax.
"let go," he encourages softly. "i've got you. let go whenever you're ready."
and you do, the release washing over you in waves that make you tremble against him.
he follows soon after, burying his face in your shoulder with a muffled groan of your name, his arms wrapping tight around you like he's afraid you might disappear.
afterward, he doesn't let go.
he keeps you close, his heart hammering against your chest, and presses kisses to your forehead, your temples, anywhere he can reach.
"thank you," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "thank you for choosing to stay with me. even after everything."
you trace the line of his jaw, feeling the slight stubble there. "always," you promise. "i'm not going anywhere."
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this is my first time writing smut so my apologies if this isn’t my best work 🥲
I’m also a firm believer in the fact nanami would be the most GENTLE man ever during sex. he would not be slapping you and calling you a “good girl”, he would absolutely think of you as the most fragile thing during it.
Sighhh I love soft nanami💗
