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You fall asleep waiting for Shikamaru to come over. When you wake up you find yourself unable to see, unable to move freely. You're entirely at the mercy of the shadows around you.
WC: 5.9k Masterlist Ao3 Ko.Fi
SMUT, 18+, All Characters 21+ Warnings: Fear play, bondage, SHADOW BONDAGE, improper use of Nara clan shadows, restraints, kissing, lots of kissing, mirror play, biting, fingering, PWP, vaginal sex, creampie, talking bout sweat, talking bout smells, brief home invasion rp
You weren't afraid of the dark. You were a grown woman! And while you never wanted to follow the shinobi educational path, you still grew up in Konoha and by virtue of not dying in whatever tragedy of the month occurred over the years, you considered yourself at least lightly badass. Compentantly badass, you could say. A badass on technicality.
But no one likes the dark, okay? It’s instinctual. There’s something in the animal part of your brain that rejects the dark. Believes there is something inside of it, somethiing waiting for you. It’s really not your fault. It’s just instinct. And you certainly shouldn’t be made to feel bad about it.
Like your, more than a hook up, kind of boyfriend that you weren't totally sure if you could call your boyfriend yet, loved to do. You and Shikamaru had been seeing each other casually for a few weeks. He was an extremely busy guy, and could rarely take a night off to spend with you, and the nights he did have off, he spent catching up on lost sleep. In your bed or his own, it hardly seemed to matter.
It was honestly a miracle you had met him on the night out you did, you weren’t sure if he had even been out like that since. Sure, he loved his friends, you heard the warmth in his voice when he spoke about his former classmates and now partners in arms and courage, but he valued his time alone. It was a wonder why he stepped into the world of shinobi at all. Well, it would have been, if not for his family, his natural talent, his genius, and the fact that if he didn’t it would make him the first man in the Nara clan not to become a shinobi in eight generations.
At least for him, there were the flashier classmates that preferred the more public facing work. His advisement and consult kept him busy, but secluded. Kakashi was excelling as Hokage, no doubt due to the quality of the team behind him. Not to disparage the work of the man himself. But the insight you were gaining from Shikamaru was that Hokage was just as much of a team mission as being out in the field was.
It was rare for him to be available to you before night fall, but you didn’t mind. You ran a small atelier in town during the day. Primarily doing garment repairs quick and cheap for chunin and jonin, making baby clothes or blankets for expectant parents and friends of the former. It was the most profitable operation, but you had steady work from shinobi needing repairs pants or dress wear realtered for the funerals that seemed to fill every citizen of Konoha’s calendars. And seeing was something that you could do by yourself, with little interruption, and pass hours on hours before his arrivals. And with him, the dark didn't seem so…full.
But tonight you had less work than usual. You weren’t even sure if Shikamaru was going to make it. He had given you an extremely casual and half promised commitment to come over when he had left your apartment last.
“The Hokage’s office is slow this season. Slow as it ever gets, I guess. We’re mostly catching up on busy work and mission asignments. Day after next, I can come by after I get off. ” He had yet to dress himself fully as he spoke, tying up his hair and showing you the full expanse of his back.
Upon rememberance, you have have been slightly distracted. Laying on your stomach, wrapped in the sheets, still warm from your shared body heat, scanning his tan stomach, the harsh lines of muscle rolling your eyes around like a metal marble in one of those pocket maze games. You had been scanning the pattern of his body hair, sparse but collected in a thin trail under his belly button leading into his uniform pants, when he donned his armor under layer, then his shirt, then his vest, and soon every inch of that warm, sandy skin was gone from your sight. You must have pouted more visibly than you thought. Because he tucked a finger under your chin and guided you up to his face.
“That sound okay to you?” The chasizement in his voice fell short when he smiled down at you, cigarette already tucked behind one ear.
You would have said yes to anything he said, looking down at you like that. You were hypnotized by his dark, smoky eyes, his sharp features, the taupey pink of his lips.
You nod, and he presses his palm to your cheek before adjusting his uniform and heading out.
So really, it may have been your memory that felt noncommittal, rather than his answer. But the night was creeping toward morning and still no word. The last of your alterations were done, folded, labeled, and tucked in the woven basket you brought them to and from work in. You stood from where you knelt at the coffee table, stretching your arms out and taking stock of your empty apartment. The windows were inky blue, moonlight dying your curtains pastel, but not illuminating your living room. You had finished the small dinner you prepped for yourself once the evening drug on. The bowl and utensils upturned and drying next to your small kitchen’s sink.
A dog a few streets over barked into the night. The chatter from evening had died down totally now. Everyone tucked in their beds and homes, the latest bars having closed up and let their staffs return home to rest. The tree by your window is carried by wind to tap one of your windows. The sound draws your attention in a moment, an electric shiver rocketing up your spine.
It was awfully dark outside. Your kitchen light was still on but only a few small candles lit your living room. The shadows they flicked over the floor seeming to inch closer and closer to you. You shivered, shaking your head as though the thoughts could be shook out onto the floor and forgotten at will.
You turned and filled the kettle in your stove with water, setting it above the flame and turning to the bathroom to take a short shower. The hot water soothed your anxious mind, the cooling smells of eucalyptus soap cleansed the thoughts danger. Once the kettle began to sing, you stepped out, wrapped in only a soft robe; dark purple with white flowers toward the bottom. It was your favorite of the left behind pieces that was brought for repairs and abandoned, it made you feel like a much more well off woman than you were. Like one of the women in one of those big named clans might cozy up in. The fabric was cool on your shower warmed and scrubbed skin.
You poured the hot water into your teapot, watching the jasmine leaves swell and dye the water yellow. Maybe the tea would give you a few more minutes of energy to wait for him?
No luck. Something about the warmth of the drink seemed to weigh your eyes down even more. It wasn’t really your place to be irritated. It’s not like he promised he would, or like you were even his girlfriend. He didn't owe you anything. But the disappointment in your gut couldn’t be helped. At this hour, even if he did come by, he would likely fall asleep in your bed before anything else. And he could only be more welcome to do so if you were already asleep waiting for him.
So you turned in. Hanging your robe beside your bed, opting to stay bare as you slip between the soft sheets. The window in your bedroom allowed even less light, you had carried one of the candles from your living room and set it on your nightstand for a bit of gentle, unobtrusive light so you could sleep.
The hot shower, the tea, the work, the waiting— it all combined to make sleep come quickly and quicker still were the abstract and vivid dreams that played out behind your eyes.
The crispy chime of glass breaking on wood woke you. Or—you thought you were awake. But the darkness was pervasive. More so than if the candle had extinguished. There was no moonlight. No incidental variance of shadow and light that grew clearer as your pupils widened. You must be dreaming still. You reach up to touch your face, reaching for a reason behind the impotence of your eyes. But you feel only the soft skin of your upper cheeks, the side of your nose, the sparse innermost hairs of your eyebrows. Carefully, holding your breath tightly, you trail your fingers horizontally along your face, not wanting to press too hard or too close to your eye. But you feel your lashes, upper and lower. Your eyes are open. You knew it. You felt yourself pull your lids back. But then..why couldn’t you see?
Icy panic gripped your throat and a horrid gasp escaped you. Something had happened to your sight in the night. You reached your hands out in futile desperation. A million plans and solutions began to flip through your mind, but before any of them could take real shape.
“You shouldn’t sleep with a burning candle. Something terrible could have happened.”
The voice wasn’t close enough to feel, but it was in the room with you. To your right, where the window and your vanity table were.
“Who’s there?” You called stupidly, your heart was pounding too fast for the blood in your brain to be useful.
You put one hand to your injured eyes and stretched the other out, feeling for any sign of the voice’s owner.
“Where are you?” You were certainly asking all the wrong questions but the spilled from you before you could bite them back.
Your fabric shears were in your nightstand, devastatingly sharp and thick. Shikamaru has just sharpened them along with his own tools the other night citing that dull tools being the cause of most injuries. You reached for them, feeling your way to the nightstand’s edge, desperate to find the drawer's pull
Cutting through the air like a snake rattle you hear the shears open and close once. The frost in your veins impedes your blood flow and your heart stops for a single beat.
“You shouldn’t keep your only weapon in your bedside table. And seriously, fabric shears? Your ninja boyfriend couldn’t lend you something for your own safety?” The voice sounded closer, and you shifted back, feeling your back press against the headboard.
You pulled the sheets close to your body, keeping one hand against your eyes as you move, trying to find any chance to feel less vulnerable. Shikamaru had left things here on ocassion, but you had always made sure to return them, unsure if it was intentional or incidental. You weren't even sure if you were at that stage yet.
A ribbon of cold began to creep across your neck.
“My boyfriend is a shinobi, and he’ll be here any minute. Do yourself a favor and leave now. Don’t do anything you can’t take back.” You fought to keep your voice even, trying to ignore the fear and disgust growing as the cool spread over your neck.
The clammy ring around your neck was complete, not tight enough to restrict your breathing, just enough to warn you that it could. You heard two shuffling steps toward you, you felt a sink of the mattress and recoiled back into the headboard, and you could feel the heat of another body close to yours, not yet touching you.
You thought you could smell…
“Maybe he’s already here.” The owner of the voice’s breath skimmed against the icy dew of your collarbone.
This close you could have recognized that voice even in dream. Suddenly the gentle smell of smoke and grassy rosemary shampoo became obvious.
“Shikamaru…”you sighed, spring returning to your body and melted away your panic.
He answers with a gentle kiss to your neck. Just under your ear. You can smell the almond and amber oil he rubs into his skin after the shower, after missions, after training, anytime the calluses roughened or harsh winds cracked the tops of his kunckles, the bend of his elbow, the edges of his ears. Your hand rush to find his bare skin and quickly you find his back, feeling the topography of muscle and bone concealed by warm flesh. Relief spills from your every pore, he traces the long muscle of your neck in lazy, open-mouthed kisses.
"Shika…you…you scared me…", You're barely speaking above a whisper but in your state you might as well be screaming out in ecstacy already.
One of his lithe, thin fingered hands raises and takes hold of one breast. You moan, eyes pinching closed but no change occurring.
As though he read your mind, “Do you like my shadow's touching you, can you feel them on your skin, closing in around you?” He teases his thumb over the hardened peak of one nipple.
You can finally feel the cool sensation, a gentle blindfold of jutsu— weightless and chilling across your eyes, the same gauze that slithered around your neck. Shikamaru squeezes the tit in his hand, catching your gasp before it can leave your mouth, covering it with his own. His kisses were always consuming. Residual smoke filling your mouth, blotting out any lingering taste of sleep. The soft swell of his tongue smoothed against yours, He hums in satisfaction as he presses his body into yours. But now, with one of your most vital sense stripped from you, the taste of his mouth seems so much more potent. As his lips press into yours, and press into yours again, and press into yours once more, you can feel the paper from the end of the cigraette he smoked on his walk home against your own lips. When his cheek presses against yours, you can feel the dewy transfer of misted rain that must have begun after you had fallen asleep. Under your hands, each inch of his skin seems to pull electricity from your fingertips, you can feel every hair, every pore, practically every cell of Shikamaru's arm. His own hands on your chest threaten to set your skin ablaze, you don't even realize your back arching to meet his touch until he pushes you back down and his lips curl at one side in sly amusement.
"I'm sorry to scare you, but when I came in and saw you like this…" He abandons your chest in favor of rounding your back and side, feeling your naked body, "I just couldn't help myself."
You try to answer, maybe to admonish, or to assuage, but he kisses you again and your words evaporate. Still sightless, you feel around his figure, building a tangible map of his body. Searching for your favorite spots of his. His strong shoulders, his slender neck, the lean muscles of his arms, the slight dip of his hips.
His hair you find easily, he's taken it down and the dark tresses shag around his neck and shoulders. Your hands tangle easily in the soft, wavy strands. You thread your fingers through to his scalp, the hair around your hands serving as lifeline and lead as Shikamaru's lips descend your neck. He kisses greedily over the tops of your breasts, taking a moment to bury his face between them and luxuriate in the soft flesh surrounding him. Shikamaru's shadow over your eye remains steady, the chill grows slightly and you begin to feel a culmination of dew, like vapor building within a cloud. The shadow at your neck seems to have grown another hand, this one trailing down your spine, between your skin and the mattress. Its chill and Shikamaru's body heat combine within your body and swirl together, building a hurricane of desire within you. Pooling and rotating within your stomach, threatening to pull yourself inward to implosion.
"I wanna see you." You whine breathlessly.
"Not yet." His lips moved from your body just enough to allow the words to slip between you.
One of his hands slides between your legs, gliding against the milky-soft skin along the back of your right thigh. Every inch sets off rolling ripples of shiver inducing touch. Despite your sightlessness, Shikamaru can see every inch of you. Goosebumps diffuse across the surface of your skin, your nipples peak and pebble. He feels his mouth water at the sight, already missing the taste and texture of your pleasure textured skin against his tongue.
You breath out a wimpy, "Shika—" as his middle and forefingers trace the line where your lower lips meet.
The muscles in your stomach tense, your breath hitches, and your mouth falls open. Before you can beg his name once more, Shikamaru dips his middle finger between your lips. Fingertip kissing your clit with a gentle gasp. Behind the gossamur tie your eyes flutter open. Shikamaru's chest warms at the sight. You of course, can not see, but he canhe can see every blink, every roll, every dart of your dark lashes. He could see every uninhibited, pleasured expression that befell your gorgeous face as he circled your clit with all of the reverance of a gambler's prized loaded die.
Below him, you tried to keep your hips on the bed, but found the bucks of pleasure too much to fight. He notices, or he must have, because the cool binds now crawl across your stomach, holding your down with all the strenght he usually exercised with is own palms. More winding vines of shadow bind your wrists down to the mattress, makin gyouo truly powerless. Two fingers pushed their way inside, easily with how much you had leakd already. Stuck in the dark, your brain fills the void of shadow with blooms of light and color. Brilliant whites and blues and reds as he presses into you, pastel pinks and yellows swirling between as his fingers pull back. Then black, then green, then silver. Swirls of color, then flashes of single shades, then patterns, then nothing, then waves of iridescent ocean, then splotchy blooms of dropped ink.
The light show behind your eyes is nebulus and impossible to anticipate, much like the quickened thrusting of his fingers. You can hear, now in chrystaline clarity, the gentle voiced hums of breath from his effort. But soon your own drown his out. To assert his prescence once more, he bring his thumb up to your clit, massaging it and its surrounding nerve center firmly. You whine, unable to do anything else as the shadowy tendrils hold you still. Wet, slick sounds are now audible over your wimpy keening breaths.
"Let go." Shikamaru spekas so faintly that you can barely make out the syallables.
He has three fingers in his employ now, they slip deeper and meaner inside of you. Pressure begins to build and your mouth falls slack.
"Let go." He tells you, more firmly now.
And you try, you try to let go and release your tensing body, but find yourself struggling against hs shadows even more. You feel his fingers curl, and the prescence of his body close over you. You feel the sticky tip of his cock ghost over your knee and the walls of your finger-full cunt clench hard. You can hear it makes him hum. Maybe in satisfaction, maybe in disappointment. You want him against your leg. You want him inside of you. You want him in your mouth. You want to cum. You want.
"Let go now, or I go home." His breath hits your mouth, he must be milimeters from your face, and while even one brush of his cock against your leg tells you that this is an empty threat, the flat dissatisfaction in his voice is enough to snap your body ito compliance.
You soften, everywhere, and succumb to the calculated touch of your lover. The light show behind your eyes erupts into fireworks as popcorning nerves bubbled and burst all across your body. His name fills your ears, and likely the ears of every other young renter in your building. Not one to like being the center of attention, Shikamaru silences you with his mouth. The tendrils hold you tight and his other hand joins the, holding you from beneath your thigh, digging those equaly hungry fingertips into the pillowy flesh.
He removed his fingers from your quivering pussy, and you feel the wet fingers wrap around your other leg. Shikamaru and the tendrils work together to move you, rolling, and positioning you somewhere new on the mattress. You're still panting through his kiss when he slots himself inside. This time, its Shikamaru whose choking gasps break apart the kiss, he moans as he positions himself further inside you, and they come out so shuddered and desperate that the back edge of his throat rasps along the tail of each moan. In delight you let yournhead fall back into the mattress' cushion. Or you try to, but when you align your spine, your head continues, hinging back until it hangs off the edge of the bed, bumping gently along the sheet covered edge. Swirly, hot blood fills your cheeks. Shikamaru finds his pace, pushing your thighs up with his hands, using your body as leverage to fuck into you as deep as his length will allow. Nothing about Shikamaru was short, not his hair, his fingers, his patience, and certainly not his cock. Long and left leaning; seven or eight inches easily, and every single one of them now fighting for their own chance to be smothered and surrounded by your trembling, soaked pussy. Shikamaru was never desperate, never acted out of impluse, and never made it clear when he faltered. But, this moment, this first push inside of you, each time threatened to turn him into a sputtering, pleasing, begging imbecile. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from spilling out the all too soon and premature confessions of feelings that woould not do you or himself any good at this stage. Only serve to make him look every bit as pussy whipped as he felt now.
The tendrils on your wrists, soften for a single moment and you are able to reach for him, gripping the sides of his hips, feeling the round slope of bone give way to the hard fleshed v of his pelvis. You feel between your bodies, feeling the most intimate hair between you bracket both sides of your hand. The sweat and pleasure wet fur trailing along your fingers like the tips of a caligraphy brush. Shikamaru twitches between your legs and a shadow hand pulls you away from the intersection of your bodies and you succumb to the pleasure once again and let your head slump over the side.
Shikamaru shudders, pulling his hips back to reenter you, "God damn, you're….you're perfect."
The tip of his cock presses deeper inside, you can feel it up behind your stomach. Swallowing the red hot bliss, he can finally fuck into you the way he planned to. Shikamaru hitches your legs up over his hips and starts a hard, nasty rhythm. Every sensation feels like a symphony bursting all around you, the gauzey shadow around your neck cinches tighter, and the blood in your face blooms and pulses in your ears. Your head swims and your body writhes beneath him, electricity zipping and fragmenting through your body, heat lightning branching through your body and setting your nerves ablaze. You can't keep your mouth quiet. You can't stop yourself from muttering his name.
"So good…so good, you drive me crazy. Troublesome woman, you're all I think about. I can't work, I-I can't do anything." Shikamaru laps over your neck, up along your jaw, over your collarbone, muttering his prayers into your skin, "You know that? You drive me crazy. you're ruining me. Fucking ruining me."
"Shikamaru…let me see you, ple-please." You whine, rolling your body against his.
You expect him to deny you once again, but instead hes quiet. Still filling you dutifully as the shadow across your eyes begins to fade. A single chime rings out and you can move and breathe freely. You open your eyes slowly, the dark of the bedroom bleeding through with blue-white moonlight. Slowly the bedroom around you becomes visible, the dark wood floors, the patterned woven rug that sits atop it. Your eyes wander and find the lower edge of your floor length mirror leaned up against the closet door. Trailing up the visage, you see the crumpled sheets draped over the edge of the bed, you see your hand, fingers curling and gripping at nothing, you trail up the sight of your own arm to your body, folded back and sloped over the bed's edge. Your hair falling loose around your head as though you were underwater, your shiny, wet mouth open for the shimmering moans and praises to fall freely. Your neck is already beginning to splotch with the evidence of his greedy, eager mouth. Shikamaru's head is still bowed over your chest, savoring the true pièce de résistance all for himself a moment longer. When he looks up to meet your eyes in the mirror, they are dark and hungry; so intense it feels like they are boring holes right through the mirror and through your body. Through the most intimate parts of you.
His hair has been hastily pushed back, but the top and shortest layer spills over his ears, strands falling free on his forehead. His naked body is lean and strong, warm tanned skin that highlights the shadows of form that his years of training afforded him. The real stand out was his arms, the only part of him that could come close to being described as bulky, biceps and forearms built and vascular. You trail the subepidermis riverway of veins that swell under his skin. For a moment you feel wrapped up in his shadows once more. You have felt the raw strength of those arms around you more than a few times now, and each time it surprised you just how brutal it could be. Lifting, holding, molding you, all to his exact desire. You ought to ask him to full nelson you one of these days.
Your breath catches when you trail down the sight of his stomach, down the delta of his pelvis, the dark hair tufting together around the base of his cock. His thrusts have slowed now to almost stillness, giving you the chance to admire the joining point between your bodies.
His hips between yours, the cleft of your pussy parting to show you just the base of his cock where it had stilled outside of you. Shikamaru, noticing your reverence, lets one strong hand spread across your waist, smoothing over your stomach, kneading your soft, haughty skin. Your pussy pulses around him, the sight of your bodies joined together like this, the sight deprived lead up and now the revelatory climax, you can hardly stand it. Your eyes pinch together, the sight suddenly too much to bear.
"No," Shikamaru slots himself fully inside once more, primarily as a side effect of reaching down for your face and taking your jaw in his hand, "Look."
Your eyes snap open and his arm over your body takes your breath away without him even having to squeeze. You grip him at the forearm and the bicep, the latter hand digging in its nails. You find that with this new hold, you can fuck him back, using the leverage point to thrust and grind your body against his as he fucks into you.
"F-fuck, babe. Keep doing that." Shikamaru's eyes roll back, and you see his chest bloom with a gentle flush.
You two find a rhythm together that risks making your brains melt from total and all consuming pleasure. You watch him in the mirror, the way his dark hair falls free around his face as he leans down to watch himself disappear inside of you. Your bedroom fills with pants and groans, your voice is beginning to falter with each moan.
"Uh-huh, uh-huh." You nod as best you can with his palm still holding firm at your jaw, "Shika, I…you're…fuck."
You can't manage anything else, but still he nods. He uses his free hand to push your leg back and your hands are desperate to counter and restablish your grip on his arm. You buck your hips up and up and up, meeting every thrust with one of your own. The perfect rhythm you found is growing sloppy and desperate, your grinding into him no longer even considering syncing with him. He found looked at yoou through the mirror, watching the bounce of your tits as your bodies move together. Your fluttering eyes plead for his, praying to be locked in his gaze once more. Shikamaru released your jaw, pulling his arm away, effectively telling you to knock it off, but you couldn't stop if you wanted to. And you didn't. It was too good.
He pressed his hand into the mattress beside your head, and your empty hand rushed to join him. Your fingers pulled at his own, whining as his grip was iron latched. He buckles above you, faltering to press his chest to yours, wrapping your leg around his hip, pressing his forehead into your neck. Your arms clasp around his back, unable to stop feeling every inch of him. You wanted more, it wasn't enough. The pleasure was so complete but you felt like you could never have enough. You wanted more of him.
"B-babe…." He barely chokes out.
You nod but can't speak.
Shikamaru noses your face to his and buries you in a long, deep kiss. You feel his hips shudder and stall, he grinds his pelvis against yours and shakes emerge all over your body. His voices crumples and cracks as he moans and spills himself inside. You can feel the pulse of his stone hard cock overflowing hot, pent up cum into you. Your orgasm bursts from you, and the light show from before has become fireworks, hissing and bursting in every light and color you could imagine. Shikamaru melts above you, his body going slack and boneless as he pants to catch his breath. Dusting, shimmering bliss settles over the two of your like a cool and heavy duvet. Behind your eyes, the fireworks subside and you replay a hypercut of the evening; the waiting, his voice in the dark, the feeling of his shadows overpowering you, the weight of him above you now, the smell of sex and skin and sweat that surrounded your bed. The memory has its phisiological effects and your pussy clenches around him.
Shikamaru hissed, "Careful, fuck."
You purr, "Sorry."
But you were not. Somehow he relaxes even more of his weight into you, his breath finally slowing to fullness. You stay together like that, full embraced, as close as any two people can be. You think back to the nights before you knew him, or at least knew him like this. How lonely the nights could feel. How, despite that lonliness, you knew in your bones, in your soul, that something was waiting for you. And when you met him, it was like something almost totally forgotten fell back into place. You trail your finger over the shell of his ear, tucking a lock of his hair behind his ear, he shifts a bit, mumbling something like "tickles." and nuzzling intoo your neck further.
"Shika," You tap his cheek, "Come on, we can't sleep like this."
"Speak for yourself." He pulls himself up as though ripping himself from the land of dreams already.
Together, you more carefully out of the embrace, even just a single moment of respite has your hips sore and uneager to move. You slip away to the bathroom to clean yourself and stop for water on your way back to the bedroom. You're surprised when you return and Shikamaru hasn't already fallen asleep. But he lies waiting, watching you silently as you hand him the glass and close the door to climb beside him once again. You feel a deep blush burning under your skin as you move under his gaze.
"So, that was…." You wait for him to finish your sentence but he waits too, "unexpected."
His face stays placid and unmoving, "Was it okay?"
You wonder if that hint in his voice could be anixety. Is he…doubting himself. It was a pretty big leap, but you had talked about some interests of yours akin to this before, not necessarily in concrete terms, but you hadn't been shy about being interested in some sensory deprivation and some light fear play. You didn't expect it tonight, but you had expected something each time he came over.
"Very!" You nod eagerly, "It was amazing! You are amazing."
He smiles softly, nodding. His lack of verbal response turns the tables and suddenly you are the one sitting in front of a heaping serving of anxiety. Maybe you were too willing, or too desperate? Maybe you scared him off? Maybe this was all too much and he tried it for your and decided that he hated it.
"W-was it okay for you?" You wished your voice didn't sound so meek.
Shikamaru's eyes go wide, "Are you kidding? I've had dreams about this, it was…even better than those. Better than I could have imagined."
He leans back on the headboard, putting his arm around you and pulling you into his chest. The smell of his soap and sweat and your sweat lingering on his body threaten to weigh your eyes down.
"I just didn't want to be moving too fast too soon." He whispers.
You nod. It was a big swing, and became a big step for your relationship, but you were glad he took it. You press a kiss against his chest, sealing it in by pressing your cheek where it landed. Shikamaru lets out a long breath, clearly relieved and relaxing totally for one of those sleeps that can only be acessed on a day where work isn't a concern for the following day. Before his breathing turns too even, before your own sleep laps over you, you remember.
"You called yourself my boyfriend."
He stills, "Huh?"
"Earlier, when you were playing intruder, you called yourself my boyfriend." You remembered.
"Well…I…was in character."
"Oh yeah?" You turn your head up to look at him.
"Yes, I was taking my role very seriously." He nodded, his nonchelance returning with each chance he got to get his footing underneath him.
"I see." You mirror his nod, "So, this intruder thinks you're my boyfriend."
"Yes."
"And…what do you think?" You bite your bottom lip, your heart pounding in your chest.
Shikamaru studies your face for a moment, but it feels like eternity, "Well, I am, aren't I?"
You smile wide, your racing heart spilling over with joy, "Yeah, you are."
He smiles back, pulling you in with his crooked arm to kiss you. You let him. His lips are kiss bitten and swollen, his skin is already starting to radiate that warm, sweet smell of sleep that you've never been able to place anywhere except on the sheets after he leaves in the morning. The goodnight kisses last a few lazy minutes, not the heated, hungry kisses from before, these are comfortable, relaxed, fueled by the knowledge of more, of good mornings to follow, of tomorrows.
I hoped you liked!!! The OG Naruto boyfriend of all time simply HAD to join the character list. I'm rewatching with a buddy (its her first time) and I just couldn't deny myself from this man any longer. Thanks for your patience, my life has been truly wack lately, and my laptop has decided that my O key should always be double pressed so if there are extra Os, please forgive. I am hoping my days are starting to level back out and I can write more regularly now. Anyway!!! Hope yall enjoyed and gooned or read in reverence, how ever you like to get down in this space is fine with me. Love you so much. See you soon. asks open so hml.
-- Doodle
I tried to post about this, but my phone or the wi-fi would let me. BUT, it was my birthday on thursday. And i intended to make a post about how glad I was to be 26 and indulging and enjoying my hobbies that I have always loved. I love writing, I love fandom, I love tumblr, I love hobbies.
Thursday I worked in the morning, then I went to a hotel with a big, gorgeous bath tub and spent pretty much five hours in the bath while my love waited on me hand and foot. Gorgeous bubbles and champagne and soju and meals and fresh sheets and tv. It was gorgeous.
I love this space so much, I'm sorry if it has felt as though I haven't been as present, i love writing and I have been out of my writer moment. But I am grateful to come back to this space and present something(s) exciting.
Nanami crashes on your couch after a drunken meeting on a rare night out.
Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, 18+ ONLY. fem! Reader, Soft Nanami, drunk Nanami, slow burn (sorta? Does nine hours count?), discussions of consent, Gojo is in it also lol.
Word count: 13.9k, Ngl this one kind of got away from me 🤭🫣. Don’t have sex with drunk people! let the tension build until that consent is sober and enthusiastic.
This was inspired by the song Get Up by Ciara, and my being very horny. I haven’t written fanfic in almost ten years, so here’s what I have for you. This was so fun to write, I really hope y’all enjoy it. I am so obsessed with this man its actually insane.
Ko.fi. Masterlist
Clubs were not his preferred way to “cut loose”. He hated the claustrophobic proximity, the overpriced drinks, the flagrants displays of affection, most of all the inability to hold a conversation. Resounding bass and artificial light blaring against his skull was sure to culminate in tomorrow’s headache. Nanami couldn't be bothered to entertain the idea of joining his coworkers to dance and drink as they so often invited him. He much preferred to keep his own company, drinking at home, indulging in the occasional (and strictly, personally regulated) cigarette, and reading in the bath. Although the last two weeks he found himself working around the clock. It seemed that as soon as he crossed his own home’s threshold he was back to work in some capacity or other. He couldn't remember the last time he had been able to turn his brain off completely in between shifts. He hated working, period, let alone working outside of his normal hours, but the work needed to be done, and as the days trudged forward, his work life balance compounded into a singularity designed specifically to siphon any free time he could find.
But that had ended this afternoon, completing a mission’s adjoining paperwork and being released for a three day leave in between assignments. Returning to his small office, he begins to retrieve his coat and pack his bag to depart and return home to finally relax. Already feeling his shoulders unknot themselves, Nanami allowed a blissful sigh to leave his lips. No sooner had he begun to draw in the following breath than had the rapping of angular knuckles against his door frame rung in his ears. Raising his eyes, Kento sees long time (reluctant) friend and daily annoyance, Satoru Gojo, strolling casually inside and plopping across the desk from him.
“So what time should I pick you up?” Although Kento could not see his eyes behind the famous black blindfold hiding them, the blase demeanor and entitlement dripping from his question was apparent.
Already feeling the vein in his head begin to pulse, Nanami sighed out, “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Come out with us tonight. You’re off the ne t few days. I’m sure even you can recover from one night out in that time. Everyone is goin, Suguru, Shoko, yours truly…even Ijichi said he would come,” Gojo allows his smile to lure in the other man, “So you have to come.”
A familiar feeling rose the skin on the back of his neck as Kento heard his familiar train of thought, Absolutely not. I’m exhausted. I have to decline. Don’t wait up for me, but before the reluctance to break his own routine won over, his shoulders softened, “Okay.”
Gojo snapped to attention, his planned seduction now moot in the face of Nanami’s quick acceptance. He hadn't said yes to going out in two months, and the last time he had joined the group, he left less than an hour in claiming a headache and calling a cab.
“For real?” Gojo couldn't help himself, he was waiting for this to be a joke.
“Yes, 9:00 you’ll pick me up. We’ll go out. I could use the break. Thank you for the invitation.”
Gojo was beside himself, feeling his lips stretch from ear to ear, he rose to his feet and began to head to the door. He had to limit the time for Nanami to come to his senses, fearing this may all be some bought of madness from the usually grumpy man.
“See you then, wear something I like.”
Idiot always had to have the last word. Nanami lowered himself into his desk chair, taken aback by his own enthusiasm, a small smile creeping across his lips. He wasn't sure what had come over him, but he couldn't say he was upset by it, it had been a long time since he had tried to meet his friends like this. He wasn't social by nature, and he was grateful to have people who understood that, allowing him his space but still continuing to include him in their extroverted fun. As much as Gojo’s refusal to allow him peace took its toll, Nanami was pleased to have someone so insistent on pushing his social limits. Although he would never tell him that.
These are the circumstances that lead Nanami to drinking as much as he had, to loosening his tie eventually to the point of hanging on either shoulder, to laying his jacket along the barstool of the hightop table he and his friends occupied. Dancing, actually dancing inside of the group of people gyrating together on the club’s designated dance floor. Eyes closed, hair sticking to his forehead, Kento felt the weight of fall away and the warm embrace of intoxication take over.
Gojo laughed over his dark sunglasses, nudging Geto’s elbow with his own before tipping his head to their large, very uncharacteristically drunk friend. They watched in shared admiration, laughing to each other, remembering fondly the stiff demeanor their friend had always carried. Since they’d known him they had seen him get drunk countless times, but drunk enough to dance? Only a handful. Drunk enough to have undone his top three buttons and reveal a growing flush down his neck and shoulders, maybe twice.
“He really needed this,” Geto praised Gojo lightly, it was him who always insisted on inviting out Nanami once again, despite the likely improbability of it happening.
Gojo smiled warmly before laughing again, this time to himself, he didn't want to reveal how easy it really was. How little he had had to push to get him out, he let the praise wash over him as he admired the usually stuffy man’s catharsis. Shoko returned then from the bar, two shots for herself and one for Ijichi who followed closely behind her, already starting to stumble himself.
That’s when Nanami saw you. Finally opening his eyes, pupils adjusting to the dim light, you appeared to him like a vision. And a vision you were, long legs wrapped in a skirt, a top lightly grazing the hemline at your waist, arms full and strong, hair styled specifically showcasing care and effort as well as routine. Engaged in conversation with a friend of yours, both laughing and allowing the atmosphere to relax you, Kento didn't realize his body had stopped dancing as he now stood dumbly in the center of the dancefloor. With soft pushes and thoughtless instinctual movement, he moved to the outskirts of the dancefloor, although still within sight of you. His breath caught in his chest, his hands ran cold, becoming clammy quickly as he watched you share a shot with your friend, head tipping back and revealing the full column of your neck to him. He felt his face flush further than the alcohol could.
Soon enough his back found the table that Shoko currently occupied, digging in her discarded coat’s pocket for her lighter, cigarette hanging loosely between her lips. Cooly placing her hand atop a few rattled glasses knocked around by his collision, she inquired as to Nanami’s dreamy state, “something got your attention?” her laugh broke through his haze just as she followed his eyeline to you.
“She’s pretty, you know her?” she was finally able to fish her lighter from the correct pocket.
Nanmi shook his head, still not able to tear his gaze away,” do you?”
“Never seen her before.” She observed the dumbstruck look in Nanami’s eyes weighing whether her input was more prescient than her desire for a smoke break, “You should try to talk to her. Who knows when we’ll get you out again. Make the most of it.”
With that she headed back towards the smoker’s patio, leaving Nanami with her words bouncing between his ears. When was the last time he had flirted with someone? When was the last time he had been on an actual date? When was the last time he had gotten to take someone home? When was the last time he had shared a bed with someone? When was the last time someone else had made him cum, not just himself between disgruntled days and nights working too much with little output? He had a break, he had come out, hadn't he? As he had gotten ready tonight he chastised his own mind for indulging in fantasies of meeting someone, But he didn't think he would find someone so ... .magnetic.
He wasn't even sure how long it had been since Shoko had gone outside, Kento snapped back to himself when he saw you set your drink down- nearly finished- and head into the throng of dancing bodies. His body moves before he can consciously decide how best to approach you; feet escorting him to the dance floor, hips following the beat and loosening the rest of him. His hands moved upward around his shoulders imitating a boxer’s stance, the alcohol clearly influencing his dancing style. Pressing forward he found himself just to your left. It was as though you had your own kinespheric bubble surrounding you, people danced near you but not on you. He felt invited in by this space, as though you had saved it just for him. He watched your body move, circling your hips and allowing your neck to follow the melody freely, your arms raising above your head as your eyes fluttered between completely closed and mostly closed. Your lips were parted beautifully, lip gloss catching the light so beautifully.
Maybe it was just chapstick, or it was lipstick, he had no idea, but just seeing the glint along your bottom lip made his mouth water for your kiss.
Would you use your tongue right away, or would he need to draw it out of you with his? Would you want him to guide you, or did you want to lead him yourself? He found his heart quickening at ever new possibility. When you finally allowed your eyes to open, they found him almost instantly. Locking eyes with you finally, Kento thought his skin was going to burst. Heart quickened, hand clammy, breath quick he searched for any reciprocation in your own eyes.
So when your eyes crinkle, following the line of your smile, so clearly directed right at him and only him, Kento can't resist but bring his hands to the sides of your hips.
The blonde man had been watching you since you got here. You noticed, Sophie noticed. As soon as you left the bar and staked your claim on an open hightop bordering the crowded but lively dance floor, she had jutted her chin toward him on the other side of the floor.
“Got one already.” she said impressed with your efficiency.
You turned to briefly meet his gaze, in just a second his gaze was so intense you could tell his eyes were honey brown and they were trained on you and only you, “oh come on. I’m sure he’s just checking everyone out.” you dismissed, still feeling the hot eyes on the back of your neck.
“He’s still looking at you,” Sophie marveled, “still looking…still…wow I don't think hes even trying to hide it.”
You knew. You could feel it, your heart raced. You had just barely looked at him but you had seen enough to see how attractive he was. A tall, broad frame, well cultivated outfit, neat, well styled hair, confidence and stability oozing from every pore. So clearly unabashedly interested. God, he was your type. Before you knew it most of your drink was drained, the nerves of being observed having made you suddenly parched. The liquid confidence settling in your system motivated you to pull Sophie to dance. You two found an open bubble in the sea of bodies and allowed yourself to release your lingering thoughts of the watcher.
That is, until you open your eyes once more, finding a pair of honey brown eyes begging for yours. It was him. He was less than two feet from you, he had sought you out. You couldn't help yourself, his interest and obvious enthusiasm brought a curl to your lips. Your smile locking him into a stare, you didn't flinch when you felt large, strong hands on your hips. It felt right, looking into his eyes the idea of not feeling him touch you felt preposterous. Your hips still followed the music, his soon joining their routine. His hands, once brazen, now stayed still and solid against your hips, moving with you, but never straying from their position. Emboldened by his sudden demure approach,wanting to reciprocate with just as much interested you turned, facing your back to him and pressing the curve of your ass against his hips, you thought you hear a soft groan exit his mouth. Once you had turned away from him, a bit of tension is relieved. You feel braver not looking him directly in the eye anymore. You grip onto one of his hands and trail it up your body, leaving the other gripping your hip harder and harder. Soon your back was fully against his chest, the music carried your pelvis, joined against his, everything else fell away as you guided his right hand across your body, side, hips, stomach and ass. His body felt so solid against yours, it was so solid against yours. He was an imposing figure, six foot or more, strong and cultivated build demonstrating both his personal strength and his own discipline. How you could have not noticed him here before was beyond you.
Nanami was hypnotized. From the moment you had looked him in the eye, he was hooked. Now that your body was flush against his, ass grinding into the front of his slacks, he couldn't think about anything else. He breathed hot against your ear as your fingers curled around his, sliding his fingers up from your hip to your stomach. It was so intimate, your leading his hand along your body, showing him exactly where you wanted his touch. You had your head cocked to the left, opening the side of your neck to him and moving your hair just under his nose, the smell of your shampoo was thrilling, he longed to run his fingers through your hair, to ruin your styling and pull. He wondered if you would let him brush it for you, wash it for you. He could learn exactly how you liked your routine, learn to style, learn to braid, anything to keep this smell close to him.
Behind his eyelids he wondered about your body, how your breasts would look, how your skin would flush through excitement or exertion, how wet you would get, how you would taste. He wondered, too, about your kiss, again thinking about how much tongue you would use, and if you would want to be in charge or him. A soft moan escaped his lips as he thought of your tongue sliding against his, directly against the shell of your ear. As if cued you spun around again, your leg slotted between his, allowing you both to move as one, grinding unashamed as your arms wrapped around his neck.
“You can touch me yourself you know,” You could barely hear the music but Nanami knew exactly what you had said, “Or do you just like being told what to do.”
Your flirting sent a shock directly down his body, feeling his cock swell against the inside of his slacks, he slid his hands up the curves and folds of your back, your skin was so soft, he saw your lips part as he touched you. You were so reactive, he couldn't hear the caught breaths of the soft moans over the club’s speakers, but he watched as your eyes fluttered and your knees pulled tighter around him. One hand traveled down to the side of your leg, brushing down the side of your hip and ass to grip your thigh. The front strands of his hair had loosened and now hung freely in his face, a dark blush settled across his freckled nose and cheeks, one of your hands moved down his shoulder and onto his chest, he wished he had been more reckless and undone a few more buttons for you, he longed to have your fingers on his skin. But for now they held the collar of his shirt in their grasp, he longed for your eyes again, and as if you had read his find they met his own. He prayed you couldn't feel the way the eye contact had made his dick twitch, the blush deepening at the shame of being so crass in his attraction to you. Pulling him somehow even closer, he could feel your breath on his neck, he was panting a bit from the exertion of dance and the intense sexual tension. The song was beginning to end, and the DJ was already beginning to blend it with the introduction of the next song.
Seizing his opportunity, Nanami finally spoke his first words to you, “Can I buy you a drink?”
You nodded, smiling at him, he wanted to make you smile again and again, the warmth of your gazing making the stuffy club feel icy by comparison.
“Thank you!”, you moved a hand down his arm to join your hands together. Guiding him over to the bar. Your hand in his felt electric, you both could feel it. His large, work roughened palm against your own. They had fit together so naturally.
As you made your way over to the bar the music became less and less overwhelming, the pressing of bodies became less insistent. You turned your head to find Sophie, chatting to a few friends she had planned to run into, she caught your eye before giving you a knowing look and a thumbs up. You smiled and winked at her before turning back to the man behind you. You caught him at the end of turning his head from what looked to be a group of his own friends. All of whom were looking at the pair of you. One, particularly tall man with dark glasses was giving an encouraging thumbs up mirroring Sophie’s. You caught yourself wondering if your friends would get along, if he would get along with your friends, if you would get along with his. You didn't even know this man's name, you had barely spoken to him, and here you were ready to merge friend groups and make brunch plans. What the hell was going on tonight?
Finally reaching the bar right as two seats opened up, you both sat, giving your exhausted legs much needed refuge. The air between you two suddenly became thick, without the immediacy of movement you found yourself suddenly worried about how to engage him again in the heat you had just had.
“What do you like to drink?”, he started right as you offered a question of your own,
“So what’s your name..”
You both laughed for a second, the acknowledgement of shared nerves taking a little pressure off. His smile was reserved, seemingly unpracticed. But his eyes betrayed his warmth, you could see.
“Kento Nanami,” He answered your question first, fighting the urge to hold out his hand for a chaste and professional handshake. He lifted his eyebrows to signify it being your turn to answer, you told him your name, and his smile returned again, “That's a beautiful name.” he repeated it back to you, ensuring his pronunciation was correct, when in actuality he could have rolled your name in his mouth a thousand times and never tired of the taste.
“I’d love a gin and tonic,” You offered, answering his question, “Or whatever you’re drinking.”
Drinking, he was drinking. Suddenly he was aware of how much he had been drinking. Skin hot and red, probably sweating all over you, stinking of booze. He felt the embarrassment move throughout his body as he replayed his invitation to buy you a drink. Were you just being nice to him? Wanting to find a polite way to get away from him and return to your friend? He had been so casual, so unhindered.
God, he was an idiot
“Sorry to take you away from your friends, I understand if you want to go back.”He wanted to offer you an out, feeling himself try to straighten up and will the drunkenness out of him before he embarrassed you or himself further. But to his surprise, you cocked your head to the side, eyes narrowing to assess his change in demeanor. You could see right through him.
“Don’t get shy on me now, the nights just starting,” you offered a new, slyer smile, “isn’t it?”
He nodded slowly, the bartender finally rounded the bar top to take your orders. Nanami ordered your drink as well as one of his own, you added on the desire for some ice water. Once the drinks were down set, you offered him a little cheers, tapping your glass against his before sipping. The drink was cool and refreshing, the perfect remedy for the heat rising in your neck and face.
He was so handsome, from his carved cheekbones speckled with freckles, you wondered if they were anywhere further down his collar. His bottom lip was full and plump, parted slightly as he tasted his drink, with his face profile to yours you could see a small pink circle on the side of his nose.
“You have those little impressions on your nose. From the bridge of your glasses.” You answer, without him having asked how you could tell, “I bet you look handsome with your glasses on.”
Nanami cursed himself for leaving his glasses in his coat pocket across the bar. He’ll never make that mistake again. Bringing the chilled glass to his lips, attempting to cover his smile. He feels so seen by you, the way your eyes move over every inch of him, he doesn’t know if he’s ever been observed so closely. It’s exhilarating, it’s terrifying. You’re terrifying. You’re exhilarating. You’re still looking at him. You’re looking at him expectantly. You asked him another question and he missed it. He scrambles through the last few seconds searching for what you may have said to him, and how he possibly could have missed it.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I asked if those were your friends over there.” You pointed over his shoulder.
Nanami turned quickly, oh god too quickly, his head spinning a bit as his equilibrium struggled to catch up. Gojo was waving at him, gesturing broadly in unintelligible charades. Nanami felt his frustration flare up at both having been distracted from you and also having to once again decipher another one of Satoru’s riddles. At the meeting of their eye line, Gojo began to move over to where the pair of you were seated, Geto and Shoko sharing the weight of a stumbling Ijichi. The head vein began pulsing again, he ought to name it after Gojo the way he sets it off. Panic set throughout his body, he didn’t want you to meet his friends— or maybe he didn’t want them to meet you. Not yet. He didn’t want to risk ruining what hadn’t yet really started. Suddenly feeling very territorial of you, he turned back, once again sending his head swimming.
“Yes. Those are my coworkers. I’m not—“
“Nanamiiiiin. We gotta take Ijichi home, he’s already thrown up twice. It’s gross.” Gojo was already halfway through his sentence before reaching the bar.
You assessed the new crowd of faces. Odd faces, all so well built and specific. Between the tall man in the darkest sunglasses you had ever seen in an already dark bar, the lithe woman with purple eyeshadow and the most perfect beauty mark, and the embodiment of tall dark and handsome— you wondered what exactly Nanami did for a living. Was there some kind of work force that employed only the hottest people you had ever seen. It took you a second to notice the younger, far drunker man with his arm slung around the black haired man with the gauges. The white haired man was still talking to Nanami, maybe arguing, but they spoke too softly for you to hear specifics. Both were cut off
“So do you want a ride home or are you good here?” Gauges asked eyes moving between you and Nanami coolly, before readjusting his hold of the nearly asleep fourth man.
The woman tapped on her phone, seemingly uninvested in what was happening, now barely holding onto their friend.
The white haired man cut in before Nanami could answer, “you hit those drinks pretty hard, Nanami. We don’t want you getting taken advantage of.” His face turned toward you and although you couldn’t see his eyes, you felt them.
Wow, like really felt them, he was sizing you up, it was clear. It was confusing, his inflection was teasing-almost joking, but his energy was severe.
Nanami was seething, mortified by the intrusion and Gojo’s crass assertion, “I can get myself home.”
It would have sounded more convincing if the slurring of his voice hadn’t married the words myself and home into a mess. You noticed, realizing for the first time that you were much more sober than him. His friends noticed too.
Nanami cleared his throat before speaking again, “I’m a grown man, I don’t need you to babysit me, Gojo. I’m enjoying my evening. Please take Ijichi home.”
Gojo didn’t seem convinced, turning his face back to you and finally sliding the sunglasses down his nose to reveal the bluest pair of eyes you had ever seen. They nearly glowed in the dim club. This gesture caused the others of the group to stiffen up. The woman finally putting her phone down, Gauges eyeing him carefully, even Nanami drew in a tense breath.
“We quite like our friend Nanami, we wouldn’t want him getting hurt.” He spoke directly to you, between his height and your seated position he leaned over you slightly, “are you someone we can trust our friend with?”
Nanami was about to cut in but before he could you met those azure eyes with yours, “I quite like your friend too.,” you copied his inflection, “ I understand why you’d be wary of some stranger taking him home. Since you have your hands full, I’ll watch him for the night. If he decides he needs a ride home, why don’t I call you directly?”
Nanami felt his jaw drop, looking between you and Gojo carefully. He caught Geto’s eye, seeing him smile lightly. No one talked to Gojo like this. Shoko chuckled softly, impressed with your lack of fear in the face of their “strongest” friend. There was no way for you to know the risk you were taking, but it was thrilling nonetheless.
“That is, if he would like to join me back to mine?” You continued, looking away from Gojo and back to Nanami.
“I’d like that very much.” Nanami answered quickly, in any other situation he would be embarrassed at how eager he sounded, especially in front of his friends. But you wanted to take him home, you wanted to keep talking to him, he could see where you lived, maybe you would let him kiss you, or touch you again.
“Give me your phone.”
The request snapped Nanami from his fantasy. Gojo held his hand out expectantly. To his surprise you handed over your cell phone. Gojo typed quickly, “This is my phone number and where Nanami lives. If I don’t answer, stick him in a cab to this address. Okay?”
“Okay. It’s nice to meet you, Gojo.” You attempted to ease the tension created, “I promise you’ve left him in good hands and I’ll return him to you in one piece.” You smiled warmly at him, cutting through the attempts at intimidation, even offering a small wink to Nanami over his friend’s shoulder.
You didn’t back down, you understood why anyone would be concerned about leaving their drunk friend with a stranger. It was a testament to how much he cared, he seemed completely sober himself. Playing DD, you assumed, was not a role he took lightly. You respected his protectiveness, you had done nearly the same on many occasions. If this is what Nanami’s friends were like, you would definitely fit in. You glanced down at where Gojo had written in the notes app of your phone. A string of numbers— his cell, and an address, Nanami’s, and below that another line, just for you.
Be nice to him, he’s more sensitive than he looks :)
Yeah, you would get along with this one. You smiled up at him and Nanami both before the dark haired man slung the full weight of the now completely passed out bespectacled man on his back in an attempt at a piggy back, and smiled to you warmly,
“We’ll see you tomorrow, Kento. Have a nice night.” Before turning and leading the group toward the exit. Gojo handed off Nanami’s jacket before pushing his glasses up his nose and turning around to follow.
With no more company, the two of you were once again alone. Nanami struggled to collect his thoughts before you soothed him, “Your friends are nice. They seem to really care about you. How long have you all worked together?”
“We all went to high school together.”
“And you’re still friends? That impressive, I barely keep up with friends from that long ago.”
“We’re, sort of, stuck with each other.” Nanami started, caught in the trap of having to figure out some way to explain his job without, actually, explaining his job. Thankfully, you cut that conversational thread and moved forward.
“I hope I wasn't too forward. You don't have to come back to mine. I felt like we were just getting to talking and I didn’t want to cut it short yet. But please don’t feel obligated.” You wanted to assure him that he could proceed however he wanted to. Despite how hopelessly attracted to this man you were, you recognized your responsibility as the more sober party to remain respectful.
“No I want to!” He blurted, not thinking about his volume, quickly standing.
You laughed, “I didn’t mean now! If you want to stay and have another drink, or dance more, that's good too.”
His resolve was starting to crack, it had been nearly an hour since he first saw you enter the club. He wanted desperately to be alone with you, suddenly the club was too hot and too crowded and too loud. Everything was overwhelming, and the only thing he wanted to overwhelm him was you.
Still standing he stepped in toward you a sudden surge of confidence lowering his voice and causing his head to dip down to meet you at eye level, “I would, very much like to join you back at your place.”
His voice was dripping with want, the eroticism behind his words lidding his eyes and sending chills down the side of your neck. You let out a small shaky breath before standing up, chest nearly colliding with his, sending him back up to his full height.
“Let me tell my friend I’m leaving. Stay here.”
You nearly ran to find Sophie and your mutual friends at a table of their own. Leaving Nanami to settle his tab and wait patiently at the bar for your return. Your heart was beating so fast you could barely hear the music. When you finally found her, you pulled her close to speak directly into her ear.
“I’m taking blondie back to mine. You all good here?”
She gave you a taunting oooh before smiling, “you really do work fast. Next time lets see if you can last two full hours before taking someone home.”
You rolled your eyes before giving her a tight hug and grabbing your jacket, “love you, text me when you get home.”
Waving to your other friends you turned on your heels and saw Nanami still standing at the bar patiently at the bar patiently. He hadn't pulled out his phone to pass the time, he simply waited, just as you had told him. God, if he could follow benign instructions like this so well, you can only imagine how well he would do with something more salacious. You had to relax, you knew nothing would happen tonight. He would come over and crash, and that was enough for now.
Nanami counted to six in his head over and over, trying to measure his breaths as though if he increased his oxygen intake he wouldn't be drunk anymore. The sides of his vision were fuzzy and dreamlike, ears hot, tongue a bit dry, all his physical indicators of intoxication were present. He paid his tab, the only things on it were your and his brief shared drink. Realizing that since Gojo( maybe Geto?) had purchased the earlier rounds, he actually had no way of knowing how much he had had tonight. What had he gotten himself into? His attempts to sober up proved inefficient because just as quickly as you had left, you were standing in front of him once more wearing your jacket and sliding your purse over your shoulder. You still looked so beautiful,
“Ready?”
He nodded, “Ready.”
And now he sat in the back of a cab, behind the driver, you on the other side. Had he remembered to open the door for you? Had you two waited outside for the cab to pull up long? A window had been cracked allowing fresh, night air to brush past his face. Your thumb ran over the back of his hand. You were holding his hand. He looked down to confirm that your fingers were interlocked with his resting on the middle seat between the two of you. They looked good like that, his long fingers laced with yours. How long had you been holding hands? Eyes wandering he saw the skin of your thigh where your skirt had ridden up, he wanted to feel your leg against his, the space between you in the backseat suddenly feeling cavernous.
“You’re so far away.” he mutters, not really intending to say so out loud.
Without saying anything you giggled and scooted closer to him, moving your joined hands into your lap and your leg right against his. You tipped your head up to look at him, he wanted desperately to kiss you. Just as he began to lean into your lips you stopped him with your fingers.
“Not yet.” was all you offered him as conciliation.
He nodded, lips still restrained by your fingertips. The faint smell of the lime you had squeezed into your drink still lingering. Even just having his lips on your fingertips sent his body into a frenzy. But he was a patient man. Drunk or not, he knew how to wait for what he wanted. Still, he allowed himself to indulge a little, he kissed your finger tips before pulling back with a sigh, nodding silently.
The rest of the drive was quick, or at least it felt quick. You lived in an apartment building and when the cab pulled up outside, you handed over a few bills before sliding out of the door closest to you. Nanami began to move toward his before it opened suddenly. You had opened his door for him and were now offering your hand to help him out. He stared up at you entranced, he felt romanced by you. It dawned on him that he had truly let himself be “picked up”. Taking your hand he exited the car and tried to think if he had ever had this happen before. Women approached him sure, men too, but whenever he allowed himself to spend the night with someone they had always come back to his place. It allowed him a sense of control, and thus comfort in a vulnerable situation. Vulnerability did not come naturally to him, not now anyway. He wasn't prudish or uncomfortable with casual sex, but he liked to remain the organizer of them. Much like everything in his life he liked it to remain under his control. But tonight, you had steered him right to your door and he was so willing, it dawned on him only once that maybe he could have gotten himself in a dangerous situation. He barely knew anything about you, he knew your name, and now where you lived, but the rest of you was a mystery to him. And yet here he was, following you down the hallway to your apartment door truly not caring what could be on the other side as long as it meant more time with you.
You hesitated at the front door, holding your keys in one hand, aimed at the lock.
“I want you to know I’ll call your friend whenever you like. If you decide you want to leave, you just say so and It won't be a problem. You won't hurt my feelings and it doesn’t have to be awkward.” It felt redundant at his point, but you couldn't shake the discomfort of having taken him home in this state. He had nodded off briefly in the cab, holding your hand tightly, before coming too and staring at you with wide eyes. You nearly backed off then and redirected the driver to the address his friend-- neigh, Bodyguard-- had written down. But then he had wanted you to come closer, and tried to kiss you. You knew he wasn't thinking clearly, but still he sought you out.
Gnawing the inside of your lip you looked up at him nervously, waiting for his response. Nanami looked down at you, his already drooping eyes still warm toward you, “I really like you. I think you’re beautiful. I bet you're a great decorator, can I please see what you’ve done to your apartment?”
His response made you laugh again. He Hadn't really answered you, but it was clear what he wanted. You weren't sure if he was intending to be funny, but nonetheless, the anxiety you had just felt slipped away once again and you turned the lock, leading him inside. You liked your apartment, it wasn't the nicest place available. But it was a two bedroom you could afford by yourself, with a good sized kitchen and small personal patio. Frankly, you were lucky to have even found it. You were a good decorator, and you were proud of the job you had done with the interior. A large, well managed and organized bookshelf along one wall with a recliner and side table, art along the walls you had collected since first moving away from home. A medium sized brown couch that was perfect for movie nights with Sophie or an afternoon nap. You had made a home here, and you were thankful for the chance to show it off.
“Wow…” Nanami’s voice sounded nice inside of your home.
“You like it?” you began to shed your jacket, hanging it on a tree rack by the door and clicking on a few lights. You offered to take his coat.
“It’s beautiful, so warm.” Nanami began to slip his jacket down his shoulder, suddenly realizing he didn't actually remember putting it on, “you did all of this yourself?”
You barely heard his question, distracted by the way his shirt stretched over the muscles of his back, “Uh.. yeah. I moved in about three years ago. So it's been a process but I’m pretty proud of how it turned out.”
You turned to hang his coat next to yours, even they looked cute together. He removed his shoes carefully, still stumbling a bit before he took a few steps into your apartment’s main room.
“Why don’t you take a seat.” you gestured to the couch
He sat gracelessly, cushion sinking more under him than he expected. His couch at home was pretty stiff, yours was soft and pliant under his weight. He steadied himself again, feeling embarrassed suddenly.
“I dont usually drink like this, I drink.. Just not so….like this?” He attempted to save some face in the wake of his stumble.
You stood by the edge of the couch before moving into the kitchen area.
“Are you hungry? I could make us something before bed.” You offered, more needing an escape from the building sexual tension than feeling any actual hunger.
“Oh I couldn’t put you out like that…” He started, feeling his limbs get heavy with comfort as the softness of your couch lulled him to lay down. It wouldn't hurt to just lay down a little, right?
“It's no trouble, really! We may feel better in the morning if we eat something now.” you called from behind him. Your voice seemed further away somehow as he pressed his cheek against the soft suede beneath him.
The couch smelled so good, like incense and home cooked food. He wondered if you had a pet he hadn't yet seen, or if you wanted one. Were you a dog person? Or did you prefer cats? Maybe you were one of those people into reptiles, he could learn to love one if you wanted him to. In this state he would do anything you asked him. Which was precisely why he wasn't getting the one thing he wanted from you, he buried his frustrated expression further into the couch. A small groan exiting his lips. Your hand brushed the back of his neck, rousing him back to attention.
“Kento, honey? You still with me?” your voice was so sweet saying his name, he wanted to hear it again. Once he looked up at you he saw you had a glass of water in your hand offering it to him, “Are you good to sleep in these clothes or should I look for something for you to wear?”
He was still in his dress clothes, not his work dress clothes, but not exactly lounge wear. His button up was stiff and pants had been well tailored, hell, he was still wearing his belt, “thank you.” he accepted the water, and by proxy your offer.
He was left alone in your living room. Slurping down the cool water he tried once against to regain his composure. Had he fallen asleep again just now? You seemed to have abandoned the idea of eating so he must have drifted off. This job really had run him ragged.
“They still may not be the right size, but they’ll work for the night I think.” You returned from the side room, presumably your bedroom, with a pair of black sweatpants, “They used to be my brother’s, but they've got some paint stains from when I redid the bathroom. Sorry I don't really have anything else.”
He accepted them graciously, setting the water down on a coaster before standing, “Thank you, this is all very nice of you. Letting me stay the night like this, I'm really not usually like this…”he started to repeat himself.
“It's really no trouble, it's been a long time since I let a man as handsome as you sleep on my couch.”
The couch. So he wouldn't be joining you in bed tonight. Part of him had hoped that even though he wouldn't be sleeping with you tonight, he could at least sleep in your bed, “The couch, huh?” His half awake state allowed the thought to slip out half formed.
“Mhm, the couch. You two seem to have really hit it off. I'm certain the drool puddle wasn't there when I left.” You pointed to a small wet spot on the cushion where his face had been.
Once again the embarrassment of his current state shot through his body like electricity, so he had fallen asleep again. He hung his head cringing at himself, “Oh jesus…I cant believe this.. I’m--”
You cut him off, “You really don't need to be sorry. I like having you here. And tomorrow morning maybe we can have coffee and talk some more. I hope you don't think I was just inviting you over to fuck you.”
His breath caught, “No, I- well.. I thought you--”
“I, of course, want to fuck you. And I don't really see any point in hiding it anymore now that you’re here. But it’s just not going to happen tonight. And I don't think I'll get a wink of sleep next to you when all I can think about is that. Does that make sense?”You were tired, you didn't want to be coy and demure anymore. You wanted to be frank and upfront about how you felt and what you wanted. Nanami nodded understandingly, although still a little surprised at your confession. You continued, “So, you’ll sleep here. I’ll sleep in my bed. I usually wake up at 8, the door to my bedroom is unlocked. If you need anything during the night, please don't hesitate to wake me up. The bathroom is the door behind you, you can change in there.”
Nanami was awestruck by your instructional tone, it sent his mind in a thousand directions; thinking of you telling him house work that needed to be done on the weekend, to you telling him exactly how to please you. He wanted you so badly, pants growing tighter, breath getting heavier. You stepped forward, nearly right up against his chest.
“I hope you're not too disappointed that I won't take advantage of you tonight.” Your voice soft.
“I respect your self control.” His eyes were locked on your lips, so plump and soft looking.
“I’m going to bed,”You leaned in closer, so close he could smell your perfume again, still as hypnotic as it was in the club, “Goodnight, Kento.”
You pressed your lips against his cheek. His body shuddered as your lips lingered there before you pulled away back on flat feet. Trying desperately to regulate his racing heart, Nanmi looked at you desperately.
“Goodnight.”
You turned back to the side room hitting a wall switch to extinguish the kitchen light before closing your bedroom door and leaving him in your dimly lit living room. He could still feel your lips burning on his cheek, he stood for a few seconds not wanting any other sensations that could potentially dull this one. Finally, he shed his pants, folding them haphazardly and setting them on your recliner. He sweatpants you had given him fit okay, the drawstring was broken so they hung pretty loose around his hips, showing just the elastic of his briefs. He undid the rest of his shirt buttons and folded it to stack atop his pants. He hoped you wouldn't mind, but he never slept with a shirt on. Honestly, he didn't usually sleep with pants on either, he already ran hot but sleeping was an entirely different story. Sleeping fully clothed almost always culminated in him waking up in a pool of sweat as though he had just broken a fever. Laying on his back on the couch he pulled a throw blanket over him, mind racing with thoughts of tomorrow.
In your room you stared up at the ceiling of your bedroom. You had returned to your room like every night, put on an old t shirt and shorts as you always did, washed your face and brushed your hair as though it was any old night, turned on your white noise and gotten into bed as if there wasn't the most attractive and charming man you had ever met settling in to sleep on your couch at this very moment. The nights events played and replayed in your mind on a loop, the intensity of his gaze across the floor, the way he had materialized right in front of you, the feeling of his body pressed up behind yours, his hands on your back back, his hand in yours, him asking to kiss you in the cab, him snoring softly on your couch, the way he had looked at you as he said goodnight. You had never felt so pulled toward another person before. It was far from a perfect night, on a perfect night you’d be fucking each other blind until the sun came up at this very moment. On a perfect night you wouldn't have even been in that club, you would already be his, spending romantic evenings reading and cooking. You wondered if he liked to read, what his favorite meals were, if he wanted pets, if he would want to move in here or if he’d ask you to move in with him. You recognized the street name of his address, he lived in a far nicer part of the city than you did. You wondered what his place looked like, if he had decorated it personally or if he had help. God, you haven't even asked if he had a girlfriend. You checked for a ring while you were dancing, but you got so caught up that the idea of a girlfriend hadn’t even crossed your mind. You rolled onto your side trying to relieve some anxiety, he didn't have a girlfriend. You met his friends, they were intense, sure. And sure, one of them had lightly threatened you, but it didn't seem like the threat was rooted in a fear of infidelity. It seemed like the threat came purely from a safety standpoint.
Were you being irresponsible? Was it smart of you to have brought him here so easily? You rarely brought hook ups here, almost always opting to follow them home and politely excuse yourself in the morning. You found yourself bending so many of your usual rules for him, giving your information to his friends, leaving the club so quickly, bringing him to your apartment. Nanami was so big and looked so strong, it probably wouldn't take a lot for him to overpower you. You had practically offered yourself to him on a silver plate. And yet, you couldn't bring yourself to be afraid of him. You couldn't say that you knew him well enough to know he was safe, but you just…trusted him. And you felt that he trusted you too.
Your lips still tingled from kissing him. It was just a goodnight kiss, a simple gesture intended to convey continued interest but the end of the conversation around sex. You could call it chaste, even. And yet here you were, lips feeling electrified from a mere two second kiss on the cheek. Whatever product he uses in his hair smelled incredible, like honey or tobacco or sandalwood. Something organic and masculine. The soft sound of surprise he had let out when you touched the back of his sleeping neck resounded in your ears. His voice was so pretty, your mind attempted to conjure what he could sound like when he climaxed. If he would let out a low, husky groan, or if he would whine and beg you for more. You felt your pussy dampen at what your imagination offered you. Thoughts of him were consuming you, seconds moving by glacially as you begged for sleep to take over and bring the beautiful, sober light of day through your bedroom window. When it finally did your dreams were abstract but they were blue and honey and blonde.
Nanami could already feel his head pulsing before he opened his eyes. Oh God. When he finally did manage to pry his eyes open, he found himself not looking at his bedroom wall. He wasn't in his bedroom at all. He wasn't in his bed. Where the fuck was he? He sat up slowly, head pounding and back aching. He took in his new surroundings: he was on a couch, there were his clothes folded on the chair, he remembered taking them off, he looked to the coffee table and saw a glass of water mostly untouched with two small painkillers next to it. It must have been left there by you. YOU! This was your apartment, he had slept on your couch in your apartment! Memories of the previous night came screaming back against his aching head. The club, the shots, meeting you, dancing, you taking him home, you taking care of him-- oh god he was so drunk. Had he really fallen asleep twice? He was mortified. He didn't know if he could face seeing you. He remembered Gojo’s threats and his cheeks burned both in embarrassment and rage, where does he get off acting like some kind of guardian over him. Then again, if he was that drunk then maybe he needed it…maybe just not that one. He stood up on shaky, sore legs, even these pants weren't his. He needed to leave before he embarrassed you or himself any further. This was a mistake, he can't believe he let himself get so carried away, you must have thought he was some drunken fool who cant take care of himself. Maybe he was a drunken fool who couldnt take care of himself.
He unfolded his pants and wracked his brain for whether you had told him which door was your bathroom so he could change back into his own clothes. Just as he was trying to remember which door you had said led to the bathroom, you emerged from the side room yawning.
“Good morning!” You stretched a bit as you walked into the kitchen, “I hope you weren't planning on running off before I got out here. I set the coffee to make enough for two and if you don't drink part of it, I'll be buzzing for the rest of the day.”
The lilt of your laugh brought it all back. He knew exactly how he let himself get carried away. You were magnificent, even more beautiful in the morning light, hair undone, legs exposed under your sleep shorts, what appeared to be a well loved sweatshirt hanging off your shoulders. You took his breath away, he couldn't believe you were actually real. Not some dream his drunken state had conjured to torment him.
You were so grateful to have your back turned on him, it was stupid of you to assume he would have slept in that button up, and you hadn't given him a shirt to wear, despite having an extensive collection of oversized t-shirts that would certainly have covered him. But seeing him shirtless in your living room just for the duration of your walk from bedroom to coffee maker was enough to nearly make you falter right then and there. He was so, fucking, built. How does one even get a body like that, did he live at the gym? He hadn't really explained what it was he did for work, was he a trainer? You weren't really a big gym person, but you could be convinced to start going if it meant watching him huff and puff and sweat.
“Good morning. I don't know where to begin…”, His voice was the same as the previous night, low and smooth, but this morning it was more reserved, more even and controlled, “I can’t thank you enough for helping me out last night. I really can't believe my own behavior. I’m truly sorry.”
You turned to face him, you were expecting some kind of hangover induced remorse, but he sounded genuinely apologetic, as though he had imposed himself upon you rather than having been invited as a guest.
He continued, “I know it doesn't mean much, but I don’t go out very often. I had had a rough few weeks at work and my friends wanted to help me loosen up a bit. Apparently I did a little too good of a job with that part. I'm so sorry to have put you out, I hope your night wasn’t ruined by having to take care of me. I'm grateful to you, I'm just so…”
“How do you take it?” you cut him off before allowing him to apologize to you once again, turning back around to the two cups of coffee you had poured.
“Excuse me?”
“Your coffee,” you opened the fridge to see if you even had any milk to offer him.
“I--”
“I have sugar, or honey if you prefer, and then I don't have any cream but i do have oat milk. I usually take mine with one sugar. How do you take yours?”
Nanami was beside himself, mid flagellation, completely shut down and now once again having to ask something of you, “One sugar is perfect.”
You dropped about a teaspoon of sugar into each mug, giving them both a quick stir before setting the spoon in the sink and walking over to the couch to meet him. Getting close you saw that his freckles did extend down onto his shoulders. Small scatterings of cinnamon dusted on fair, even skin. You handed him one mug, your favorite mug actually, it was dark blue and hand thrown. You had bought it at an art fair when you first moved to town, you’d tell him that story eventually.
“I don’t want you to apologize to me. I’m glad I met you last night. And I’m glad you stayed over. And I'm especially glad you're still here now.” You took a seat on your usual spot on the couch, to the right of him. He was still standing, body facing the kitchen but face watching you intently, now holding his mug but not drinking. You patted the spot next to you on the couch. He sat down, silence fell between the two of you as you sipped your coffee again. He followed suit, the steaming drink already starting to soothe his hangover. He couldn't help the soft moan the escaped him, drinking down the relief of caffeine.
“Taste okay?” you checked in.
“Its perfect. Thank you.” he felt himself loosen up, his brain choosing to be kinder and remind himself of the parts of last night that had gone well. Making you laugh, making you smile, dancing with you, the smell of your hair, your lips on his cheek. You were sat facing him, back against the arm of the couch, legs curled in front of you, he sat up right with his feet planted on the ground, allowing his poster to relax a bit and lean against the back of your couch.
You took his relaxation as an opportunity to take him in. So this was what he was like in the morning: shyer, a bit stiffer, still so fucking handsome. His brown eyes were still a bit droopy with sleep (and likely a bit of light sensitivity), a light impression of the hem of your couch cushion had imprinted itself on his cheek, his hairstyle had fallen and his blonde strands now hung loosely in front of his face. And he still hasn't put a shirt on. His torso was like something in a museum. Strong, broad shoulders sat atop full, muscle built pectorals. The hair there was light and looked soft, it became darker and coarser leading down his toned stomach. You longed to run your tongue over every inch of him, but chose instead to sip your coffee and gawk somewhat openly. Finally the silence became too much and you spoke up again,
“When do I need to have you back to your bodyguard?” you teased sliding your knee to bump against his.
“My-- oh, Gojo, don’t worry about him. He’s likely forgotten all about it.” Nanami tried to cover up the hopefulness in his voice. “Do you have anywhere you need to be today?”
It was a Friday, it was plausible you would have to go into a job today, but he didn't know what you did for work so it was equally plausible that you, like him, were off. To his delight you shook your head, smiling coyly over the rim of your coffee cup, leaning back against the throw pillows he had arranged to rest his head last night. Feeling more confident now that he had shaken off the initial mortification, Nanami scooted closer to you on the couch, setting his mug down on your coffee table. He moved one hand to gently take your mug and place it on the coffee table beside his. He then put his hands at the top of your knees and pulled you closer to him, so you were nearly sitting in his lap.
“So I have a question.” He kept his hands on your legs as he spoke.
“Mm?” you were too stunned to form any actual words.
“Last night, you said something to me. Something about wanting to wait until this morning to fuck me,” he shocked himself at his boldness, “how do you feel about that now?”
Your eyes were wide, pupils nearly all encompassing as his hands touched your skin, this was the most you had touched since the dance floor. His fingertips felt like they were burning you, but the way a hot bath burns your skin just before it becomes relaxing.
This was it, you met his eyes, flicking down briefly to his lips, then back up,“I am still, very interested. What about you.”
Nanami moved one hand over your shoulder, to the back of your neck, leaning in so close you could feel his breath on your lips and he spoke, “I can't believe you made me wait all night.”
He pushed his lips to yours, finally feeling the kiss you both had waited so desperately for. His lips were so soft, the coffee you prepared lingering on both of you. His hand on your neck rose to tangle in your hair and yours reached out to find his neck, his shoulder, his hair-- fucking ANYTHING. He leaned over you slightly, catching a momentary moan and sliding his tongue between your lips, he found himself moaning, feeling your tongue slide against his. Your hands were on his back now, feeling the muscles flex and retract at every turn of his head or readjustment of his hands. The hand not on your head how found your waist, sliding up and down your form savoring every roll and bump and divot his fingers could find. Finally, fucking finally he could touch you, his lips slotted against yours over and over, allowing your tongues adjust and readjust, it was messy and desperate and so passionate, Nanami kissed you like he would never kiss you or anyone else every again. Like a man who knew he could die tomorrow and never again know the warmth of a kiss this intense. You pulled away briefly for air and before his hungry lips could pull you back down you started to remove your top. He met your hands half way and finished the motion for you, you hadn't put a bra on since waking up, opting instead for the thick sweatshirt instead. Your chest was now as exposed as his was. As desperate as he was to have your lips on his again, he took a moment to admire you. Your breasts were full, and round enough to fit perfectly in his grip, nipples hardened already in your exhilaration, still so reactive for him. He wondered if you were wet already, and if so- how wet were you. He couldn't wait to find out. He was staring, lost in his thoughts of how best to appreciate everything you were giving him. So much care, so much trust, your beautiful body. He wanted to know how best to show you what it meant to him.
You squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze. Since you shed your top he was staring at you. You didn't mind it at first, but it was starting to make you self conscious. You weren't insecure about your body, but the intensity of his gaze, how you could nearly hear his mind racing, made you desperate to know what he thought. Finally he broke his gaze away from your chest, raising up one hand to hold your right breast firmly, he looked deep into your eyes moving to kiss you again, softer and more intimately but still just as passionate as before.
“So beautiful…” he said in between kisses, “Even better than I imagined. You’re so beautiful.”
You moaned against his lips as he massaged your chest. He redirected his kisses down the side of your neck, across your collarbone and right to the breast held in his hand. He kissed around the nipple before finally taking it into his mouth. A haughty moan was pulled from you as he sucked hard, eyes flicking up to watch you arch under his mouth. He moved to the otherside, and your hand took refuge in the short hair at the back of his neck. The cropped undercut left little to grip, so your nails dug lightly into his scalp. He moaned around your nipple, eyes rolling back slightly, and hips jutting into the couch involuntarily.
You marvel at his reaction, letting out a small chuckle before moving your nails across his hair again, “You like that?”
He nods wordlessly, mouth still full of you. He knew he was kissing hard enough to bruise, he didn't care. The taste of your skin, the feeling of your body under his, of your fingers in your hair had him feeling drunker than last night. He couldn't get enough of you, he was truly insatiable. He began to move to return to the first side of your chest when you pulled him back up to your mouth, kissing him hard.
“‘Need you.” you pleaded against him
“Need you too, so fucking bad.” He agreed, leaning back upright, and bringing you with him.
You pulled off and stood up quickly, your boobs bouncing as you moved, he would have been embarrassed of the sizable tent growing in the borrowed sweatpants, if he had had any remaining brain power to think about anything other than fucking you. But he didn’t. He stood up and followed you into your bedroom. You had a queen bed, a small wardrobe, a vanity table that appeared to double as a work desk and maybe moonlighted as a craft station. He couldn’t wait to find out what clothes went in what drawers, maybe eventually you would let him keep some of his work clothes here so he could spend the night on weekdays. You turned to face him before reaching the bed, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down once again to kiss you. His hands fell to your exposed waist, the skin so soft and supple, they teased along the topline of your shorts, lingering to be told the next move. Without him having to ask, you nodded against his lips, and his hands dipped underneath the waist band, finding not underwear but only skin. His hands gripped into the meat of your ass, pulling moans from both of you. Your own hands had slipped down his stomach and began to remove the second hand pants from him as well. Finding the tangled up positioning complicated, you both pulled away briefly to remove the last of your clothing before you led him in climbing on the bed. He followed suit, ogling openly at how your body curved and folded and stretched with every motion. You were nearly serpentine the way your hips shifted climbing onto your bed. His cock was so hard between his legs, pre cum dripping onto your comforter as he followed your crawl. As you turned onto your back, he was right behind you, moving himself between your legs to meet your lips once more. A hand started on the back of one of your thighs, causing you to shiver deliciously.
“You're so sensitive.” He praised, sliding a finger feather light from your ass to the back of your knee.
You mewled unabashedly, proving his point. Finger trailing back down, his hands now gripped both of your thighs, he was on his knees before you, parting your legs further to finally, FINALLY look right at your glistening wet pussy. He nearly fainted at the sight. Lower lips parted to reveal the most beautiful, most delicious looking pussy he had ever seen. He couldn't stop himself, he leaned right down and planted a kiss directly onto it. His eyes rolled back in his head at the sensation, the taste, the smell, the feel of your pussy lips against his mouth, soft pubic hair brushing his nose and he gave a long lick from bottom to top.
“Thank you,” he was so grateful to you. For last night, for taking care of him, for being here this morning, for being here at all, he couldn't believe he had found you like this, and he planned to make the most of his chance.
Never in your life had you been thanked by someone eating your pussy. But here was Kento Nanami devouring you like he hadn't eaten in weeks and whimpering gratitudes into your wetness. You hadn't had time to even realize his intentions before he pushed his tongue between your lips, and once he had your brain had short circuited, causing you to assume the initial “thank you” had been all in your head. It wasn't until it was a mantra he clung to while increasing his ferocity that you realized he really was thanking you. Your hands flew to his hair again, this time pushing back the longer strands in the front that had gathered in his face. You pulled hard when he first sucked your clit into his mouth, the moan he let out sent vibrations up your body and added to the pleasure he was already giving you. Your legs were over his shoulders, your hands in his hair, his mouth was taking you apart one lap at a time, one of his hands found your breasts again, there was so much sensation it was like he knew precisely how to make you unravel before him.
Nanami didn't even realize he was rutting his hips into your mattress, his body desperately seeking friction to his painfully hard cock. He didnt think he had been this hard in years, he couldnt think at-fucking-all. The only thing on his mind was how good you tasted, how pretty you sounded above him, he wanted to hear you say his name, he wanted to make you say his name. He brought his free hand up and slid two of his fingers up and down your folds, getting them thoroughly wet before stopping them just in front of your already clenching hole.
“Do you want these?” his voice is even lower than before, mouth pornographically drenched in you.
You nodded helplessly, just looking at him between your legs threatening to make you cum. He gave a rough squeeze to the breast he held, “No.” he corrected, “ask me.”
You knew what game he wanted to play now, you knew he could tell how much wetter you had just gotten at his darker tone and rougher grip, the tiny showcase of his strength already sending your mind reeling to know how rough he could really get with you. But not right now, now you needed him, any of him, inside of you more than you needed air. So you’ll play along.
“Please, oh fuck please Kento, please put your fingers inside me, i need it. I need it so bad, please.”
More than pleased with your efforts, he slides his fingers into you, they go in so easily, youre so fucking wet. He resumes his meal, already itching to taste you again, now using his fingers to draw even more wetness out of you and onto his tongue. He curls his fingers slightly upward and your moans raise in pitch. He’s hit it, if he keeps this up you’ll cum in no time. You're panting, your moaning, you’re nearly screaming and Kento continues to thrust his long fingers into you, hitting your g spot with inhuman accuracy. You can feel it, you’re nearly there.
“K-Kento i’m..oh fuck i..I’m cumming of fuck I--”, a half scream-half moan rips through your lungs robbing you of the end of your sentence as he pulls your orgasm out of you. You're shaking, you’re pulling his hair, you’re repeating his name over and over until it's completely garbled in your mouth. He takes everything you give him, holding your hips down firmly so you stay connected to his mouth, not letting up with his fingers until he's satisfied you’re through the totality of your first climax. He continues lazy licks as you come down from your high, slowly easing out his fingers and sucking those clean as well.
From your spot on your back you look down at him still panting and dazed from cumming harder than you thought possible with another person. You and your trusty vibrator had made some good memories, but you never expected someone could make you cum like that on the first try. He knew it too, he could see it on your face as he savored the remnants of your cum on his fingers. You moved your hands to his shoulders, weakly pulling, urging him to come up to you. He followed your lead and moved his body over you. You could finally see how fucking hard he was. And how fucking big he was. Just by looking you had to assume he was seven or eight inches long, and he was thick, thicker towards the head than at the base, two pretty veins wrapped around him, the tip was so pink it was nearly red, sticky with precum and still weeping. It curved upward, wanting to rest against his lower abdomen, and the darker blond hair there that grew at the base of him. He clearly kept it groomed, it not being too long or unkempt, but you were grateful it was there. The monstrous thing would probably only look more intimidating without it.
He could see that you were doing the same mental calculations he had seen in every partner he had ever had, and he tucked away the immature arrogant pride and chose to instead kiss the side of your mouth, along your jaw, and up to the shell of your ear,
“It’ll fit, you're already so wet for me, and if it doesn't fit all in one go, that's okay. We can work our way up to it. Trust me.” He kissed your neck soothingly, and that was all you needed. You could already feel yourself dampening again, you wanted so desperately to please him, had just made you cum so hard, you had to at least try to settle the score. Finding his lips once again, you pulled him into another desperate kiss, this time trailing your hand down and wrapping your hand around his cock. Using his already collected precum to coat his shaft, you moved your hand up and down a few times, trying to find the right rhythm before his hand gripped your wrist sternly, forcing you to look him in the eye,
“I nearly came already just from eating your pussy, if you touch me like that I’ll cum right now and I have to be inside of you at least once before then.” he moves your hand away from him and above your head. You keep it there, although direction is ungiven, and he seems pleased by this. He moves to his knees between your legs, Wrapping your legs around his waist, he grips his desperate cock and slides it against your pussy, collecting as much arousal as he can. He doesn’t want to hurt you, he knows how big he is, he knows if he bottoms out without enough prep it won’t feel good for you the way it would for him, he wants you to feel good. He wants you to make that sound again. That pretty scream of his name and pure pleasure. You watch him as he becomes laser focused on the point where you'll be connected in mere moments, you feel honored, in a way to see him like this. He’s being so attentive, so thoughtful and he's making you feel so good. Your hand reaches up and touches the side of his face, and he leans into your palm, nuzzling into it.
“I trust you, Kento. Please, baby, fill me up, I need you so bad, please fuck me.”
He presses a kiss to the heel of your hand, the light breaks in your voice making cock twitch in his own hand, he can’t wait any longer, he begins easing himself inside. He tries, he really tries to go as slow as he can, but hes so fucked out and desperate he cant control his movements as well as he usually would. Feeling him push inside of you, you’ve never been so full in your life, he stretches you so nicely, a slight burn but the combination of foreplay and your first orgasm soothe any pain or anxiety you may have had. His eyes are closed, his brows are furrowed, lips parted and still wet. He looks so beautiful like this. You think he's finally gotten all the way in as he stops his movements, you couldn't be more wrong, his hands lift your hips up slightly, more aligned with his pelvis and he slides back out an inch, before pushing the rest of his length inside of you. You feel him against your cervix, you feel him along every inch inside of you.
Looking down at you, he finally opens his eyes, you look so beautiful filled with him. Mouth dropped open, a warm flush settling over your chest and neck, one hand gripping his arm tightly, the other buried in the blanket beneath you. He wants to keep you like this forever, he attempts to push even deeper, seeing how far you can really take him. Gasping your back arches away from his grasp, but he pulls you back to him.
“Just like this, take it all. Look at you, such a good girl for me. Taking every inch.” His praise coaxes you to relax again. He's so deep inside of you, it feels amazing, “You think I can move now, baby?”
You nod desperately. He starts a slow thrust, opening you up little by little. He's hitting every spot inside of you, you don't know how but you can already feel another orgasm building from just the first few thrusts.
“How do you expect me to fuck you properly, when she wont let me go.” he teases above you, sliding his fingers in a V shape along your innermost fold, right where you’ve gripped around him so tightly.
“‘Mm sorry.” you gasp out barely registering the conversation.
“Oh fuck,” he sputters, finally able to pull completely out before diving back in.
Youre finally warmed up enough for him to fuck completely. He pulls on your legs to place over his shoulder as he deepens his thrusts. Your moans are syncing with his, his movements are starting to become jerky again, trying to control himself as much as possible, Kento brings a thumb to circle your clit making you see stars behind your eyelids, when you open your eyes the only thing you can see his him, gripping onto you leg firmly, staring intently at how well you’re taking him, watching himself move in and out of you. He feels you start to grow tighter around him before you can even start to whimper out,
“Fuck, fuck, kento I---aughhh.” you came around him with no warning,the feeling of you pussy spasming and tightening around him is nearly enough for him to lose his own. He releases a deep moan.
“Where can I cum, please baby, fuck where do you want me to cum, i’m so fucking close.” he can feel the sweat dripping down his face, he’s so dangerously close to blowing it inside of you. He wants to so badly, but he needs to hear you want him to.
“Inside, please, inside me, i need you to fill me up, please fuck.”
Music to his fucking ears, he carried on with his thrusts as you continue begging him to cum inside of you. Your wicked tongue is so dangerous, anything you asked of him in this moment he would do, as long as it meant he could stay like this forever. His thrusts grow shorter, faster, more frantic, he’s truly rutting against you, so deseperate for release the only word on his lips is a repetition of “fuck” and your name. It sounds so good coming from him, like he was born to say it. Finally, he lets out a long strangled cry, coming from low in his belly. You can feel his cock twitch inside of you as his release covers your inner walls. He thrusts a few more times, emptying himself completely before stilling his movements, still locked inside of you.
Heavy pants fill the room, cutting through the thickened air. Nanami collapses over you, resting his head on your chest, the sound of your heart quickening underneath him cutting a smile into his face. You brush the front of his hair off his head once more, cycling your fingers through the sweat-dampened strands. Contented, satisfied sighs escaped both of you, neither of you spoke, neither of you wanted to, not wanting anything to break up this bliss of this moment.
Morning light dripped through your window curtains, golden rays illuminating his features, the freckles on his cheeks, the soft wrinkles by his eyes, a small scar cut into the arch of one eyebrow. He really was beautiful, you wondered how many people had gotten to see him like this. A man of his stature, his strength, completely unguarded. One of his large hands found yours, bringing it up to his lips, kissing your fingers, so sweet, so intimate. You really could fall in love with him. Finally, he looked up to face you, eyes catching the light and turning gold, he winced lightly, still feeling the sensitivity of his hangover. You flattened your palm in the path of the sun’s beam, offering his tender eyes solace in the shade. The gesture is short lived as he moves up to press his lips against yours again, his still buried cock shifting and igniting your inner nerves once again. Feeling you begin to tremble, Nanami wills himself to pull out and move onto his back next to you, one large arm wrapping around you, desperate to not be parted from you for even a second. You rest your forehead against the side of his neck snuggling up to his side. His smell fills your nose, the lingering cologne that you first smelled on the club’s crowded floor, mixed with something so uniquely and naturally him. You felt his lips press onto your forehead, arms pulling you tighter to his side.
Kento was the first to break the silence, “would you want to have dinner with me tonight?”
Your lips curve warmly already imagining how handsome he’ll look like in a nice restaurant, candlelight flicking over his face, maybe he’ll even wear his glasses.
“I’d love that.”
Author’s notes:
Okay thank you guys! I hope you enjoyed!I know I did, I know I said it earlie but I haven’t written in forever so I would love to hear some feedback! Don’t be scared, I know I can take it!
it’s up on Ao3 too.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Happy pride month!!! Everyone be gay! Being gay is the best thing that ever happened to me. I love being queer. I love my queer life. I love my queer friends. I want to be queer in every life!
Please celebrate being gay today! Trans your gender! Kiss outside of your traditional gender binary’s expectations! Buy drinks for trans people! BE GAY! Be gay! YOU ARE GAY now! BE GAY! Yay!!
