~drunk and pathetically yearning Nanami~
Everyone knows Nanami Kento: the stoic, hyper-masculine, "overtime-is-a-sin" salaryman. He’s the peak of traditional masculinity... until he has exactly four cups of sake and his entire professional dignity ends up at the bottom of a carafe.
In this one-shot, the legendary "Ice King" turns into a desperate, whiny, worshipful mess who would rather beg for your attention than look at a spreadsheet. It’s years of repressed yearning exploding into the sluttiest night of his life.
Warning: Features a very drunk, very vocal Nanami who really, really wants to be a "good boy" for you.
(P.S. I am ovulating while writing this, so you know the smut hits different. Enjoy.)
The relationship between you and Nanami Kento was defined by a terrifyingly efficient silence, and professionalism that could break rocks. As his executive secretary, you were somehow the only person allowed within three foot radius of his personal space.
He was a terrifying force of a man to the rest of the office. They treated him as if he was a tiger on the loose, avoiding him in corridors and hiding from him in the break room to avoid that awkward professional berating they knew they were getting if one mistake was spotted.
But you, you were different, you knew how he liked his coffee (black, and exactly 82 degrees celcius), you sat across from his office, you knew the precise weight of his favorite fountain pen, and you knew the exact moment his jaw tightened (a sign that his “overtime” frustration was peaking.
To the rest of the firm, he was the “ice king.” The man of marble and blueprints. Emotionally constipated and scarily precise.
But behind closed doors, and when it was just you and him. He never felt cold, it was more like a pressure building through the time that you worked with him. And by the fourth month of you working with him. That tightness in his jaw transcended just his “overtime”, and somehow you became aware that he was using it to keep himself grounded around you.
It started months ago, during a late night filing session. The office felt warm despite the constant humming of the air conditioning. The silence that filled the room was terrifying. It kept you aware of the fact that you and Nanami were alone in the office. And despite the fact that it was clear that he was focused with the paperwork in his hands. You couldn't help but wonder if his mind was also thinking of all the things you could do right then and there.
And as you reached past him for a folder, his hand had caught your wrist. He did not pull away, nor did he pull you closer. Instead; he just held you there, with his eyes still fixated on the paperwork across from him. He traced your wrist with his thumb, as if he was looking for your pulse, not knowing if he could pounce or not.
“YN-san” he murmured, his voice low vibrating in the quiet room. “Your heart is beating too fast, maybe it is time to stop drinking coffee and go get some rest” this time, his eyes met yours.
The suggestion was framed as a professional courtesy; docile, even. but the look in his eyes betrayed him. That lingering touch, the heavy weight of his gaze… in that moment, you realized this wasn't an order. It was a silent plea for permission to finally dismantle the walls he had spent years reinforcing.
There was no contract. No signatures, just a mutual understanding that the professional mask you both put on for months was a lie. And that hungry gaze you held onto was screaming that both of you were itching to tear that mask right off.
The quarterly work dinner was mandatory. Both you and Nanami hated the idea. It was a loud evening full of stories from people you do not care about. And as much as you loved your job; you also liked for coworkers to remail coworkers. So the idea that you had to spend an evening forcing a personal connection you did not want to have was dreadful.
“An efficient use of a Friday evening,” Nanami grumbled, looking up at you from his desk. Not even trying to hide the sarcasm in his voice. Then, his gaze lingered on the curve of your waist. “However… if you are attending, i suppose i can endure the social theatrics. Just stay close to me. I do not want to spend the night talking to people i don’t care about. Nor do i want to see any of the junior associates even breathing near you”
The sushi place was a chaotic mess, a big cedar wood table, and the smell of cheap beer filled the restaurant. The team was already five pitchers deep by the time you and Nanami arrived.
The “ice king” sat at the head of the table, his posture perfect, his suit jacket buttoned. He looked like a man who could out drink a sailor based on sheer willpower alone.
That was the myth. The reality that you did not know, in fact nobody knew. Was that Nanami was a terrible drinker. He could not handle his alcohol at all. A single beer could easily make him surrender.
“Nanami-san! A toast!” The marketing leqd shouted. Followed by cheers from the rest of the team. Pouring him a generous overflowing glass of premium sake.
Nanami, ever the polite professional accepted, then another came from the hr department. And another from the graphic design team, and a fourth from the accountants.
Twenty minutes in, his vest was unbuttoned, his movements were slow and deliberate.
Thirty minutes in, it looks like its time to take him home. You have never seen him looking this much of a mess
He set his forhead on the table, groaning as if his hangover started already. His jaw was clenched so hard. And you could tell he was starting to get overwhelmed and irrita with the noise and the lights that shined around you.
“Is… is Mr Nanami okay?” Someone whispered
Nanami let out a soft hazy buff of air. “The ceiling is vibrating in an inefficient” he announced to the room, his voice thick and confused.
The table erupted. The “ice king” was not just tipsy; he was gone. The junior staff stigled their laughs into napkins. And the rest tried so hard to capture the moment of weakness their boss was showing.
“Who would’ve thought that the most hardcore man in our department is a lightweight” someone wheezed, “our legendary Nanami Kento is floored after four cups! Look at him! The tiger is now a giant, grumpy cat!”
Nanami’s head lifted off from the table in a sudden twist. Which made everyone stop laughing and flinch. It felt nice to know that despite them trying to make him the butt of the joke. He was still able to intimidate them with a single move.
He then let his head fall again, this time shamelessly on your shoulder. It was heavy, but it felt nice to feel him lean on you for the first time ever.
You felt his hand find yours under the table, his rough calloused hands squeezed yours with desperation. He was not laughing. He was begging you to get him out of there.
“I will take him home,” you said, standing up and hauling his heavy, warm frame up with you. “He has… a low tolerance for inefficiency.”
As you led him out, the laughter of your coworkers echoed behind you. You knew that Nanami could hear them, but he did not seem to care at all. His eyes were fixated on you. And his face flushed a deep, beautiful pink as you stumbled upon the cool night air.
The transition from the humid, rowdy restaurant to the interior of Mr Nanamis car was jarring. You knew he would not be happy letting you drive his car if he was sober. But it was dark, and you had no other choice. At that moment you were happy that you remained sober.
Nanami was poured into the passenger seat, his long legs cramped in the footwell. He had always been a man who demanded space. But now, he seemed to struggle to exist alone within it.
Part of you, was glad that you were alone with him in that car. You were glad to be the only one to see “the ice king” crumble.
The drive felt long and dreadful, you tried asking him for his address three times, never getting a full answer. Which is why you decided to just take him to yours. And then deal with the aftermath the next day.
“YN-san” he murmured, his head bobbing against the headrest. He had taken his glasses off, and opened a few of his shirt buttons. His voice, and face both looked and sounded vulnerable; younger somehow. At that moment, he was an entirely different man.
“Yes, Nanami-san? Try to keep your eyes on the horizon. It helps with the nausea”
“The horizon is not as beautiful” he replied, his voice thick, his speech slurred deliciously. From your peripheral vision, you could see his head turned looking at you, fixated even.
“Do you know what is the difference between a poorly timed spreadsheet and a poorly timed joke?” He slumed into the seat.
You gripped the steering wherl, somehow the fact that The ice king himself was making a joke for you, made your heart skip a beat. “I have no idea, Nanami san”
“The spreadsheet… c-can be audited. The joke… just leaves you bankrupt.” He let out a soft, dry wheeze. A genuine, drunken huff of a laugh that made you laugh in return. The joke was not funny, not even slightly. But you have never seen this side of him. And it intrigued you so much that you wanted more. More sides of him to see, more laughs, more voices.
“I feel bankrupt tonight YN” He suddenly said, looking at you again. “My dignity is currently somewhere in the bottom of a sake carafe. I am sorry… it is entirely embarrassing and unprofessional” you felt his words deeply. He really meant it.
“Everyone was drunk Kento… i promise most of them will not remember anything about today.” You said softly, trying to comfort him. You did not mean it. But somehow it worked; you felt him relax slightely.
And by the tile you pulled onto your garage, the humor had died, and it was replaced by a raw, naked tension. The same tension that has been simmering since that day he caressed your heartbeat.
Getting him from the car to the elevator was a slow tactile torture. He was a radiator of hear, his arms draped over yout shoulders, his fingers clutching the fabric of your blouse as if you were the only solid thing in a spinning world.
You had spent months, maintaining a surgical distance of at least 1 meter; and now you could feel every inch of his solid, muscular body; and every hitch in his breathing
The moment the door to your apartment clicked shut, the professional mask did not just slip, it shattered.
He did not let you even turn the lights on. He caught yout wrist with the intensity of a starved man. His grip was trembling but insistent. Pinning you against the heavy oak door. The darkness was absolute, except for the city lights bleeding through your windows.
“Don’t… don’t let go of me yet,” he groaned nervously. His forhead thumping against yours. “If you let go, i think i will just fall apart right here on this floor. Is that what you want? To see me like this?… i have never been so humiliated … do you understand how humiliating it is how much i do not care if you see me break” his voice trembled.
“Nanami, let’s get you to bed,” you whispered, “i will get you some water. Otherwise your hangover might kill you tomorrow” you lead him to bed.
“No water. Please. Just stay” he pleaded, his voice cracking; a sound so alien to the man who commanded boardrooms. “Please, sweetheart, just stay with me. I have been professional all year. I've been so… controlled. I’ve been a good boy. I can’t do it for one more second. I am begging you YN. come here? Be a good girl and just hold me” his whimpering voice sent a shiver down your spine. There was nothing else for you to do… it was time to give in to him.
You guided him to the bed, but he didnt even let you reach the sheets before he was pulling you into him, his movement frantic. This was the first time you exploded into his arms. Months of build up, suddenly melted into his touch. And the way he touched you was delightful. Worshipful. Desperately uncoordinated.
As you worked the buttons of his shirt, he let out a low, wounded whimper. He was not your boss anymore. He was a man starving. And you could tell that he fully submitted to you.
“You are so beautiful that it actually hurts. Do you know that? It has been a physical ache deep in mu heart,” he gasped. His face buryint itself in the crook of your neck. “I’ve spent every meeting staring at your hands, wondering what kind of poetry they would play on my body. What they would feel like on me. And now you are here and i am a mess. I am such a pathetic mess for you arent i? Look at me… so desperate and at your mercy.” He was vocal; terrifyingly so. You did not expect that of a man like him. He did not just moan; he spoke to you in a stream of desperate, sweet nicknames, in a voice so low and smooth that it felt like a distant dream.
“YN” he looked at you, his eyes full of tears “tell me you like that. Please, I need to hear it,” he whimpered as you ran your hands over his bare chest. “Tell me I'm being good… tell me I'm doing it right for you. My angel… my sweet perfect girl… I just want to make you feel good. I don’t care about me. I just want you to scream my name, I want to be the only one to make you feel like this.”
He was a pleaser. You thought to yourself, and right now, he is on your bed, driven by a desperate, drunken need to prioritise your pleasure over his own. But the physical exertion started to clash with the alcohol.
He slumped back against the plethora of pillows you had on your bed. His breathing became rough. He looked up at you with eyes that were wet, shimmering with a beautiful pathetic desperation.
“I can’t… I cant lead anymore, darling.” He breathed, his chest heaving. “My arms are heavy… and i am tired of carrying everything. Please… get on top of me. Take what you want. I am yours. I am completely yours. Just ride me, and let me watch you… come here sweetheart, i am begging you to take me”
The pleas and and the whimpers made you realize that you needed to help him sober up, no matter how much you knew that you both needed this; you also knew that you wanted him to remember the morning after. “I will go prepare a bath and some coffee, i want you to be a little more present with me… okay?” You gently said, as you turned around and walked out of the room nervous of what might come.
On the walk to the bathroom, Nanami was barely upright. His arm draped around your shoulder and your fingers twitched against your blouse opening a few buttons as you guided him towards the edge of the tub.
“YN-san,” he slurred, his voice hitting low, vibrating through your small bathroom, he leaned his weight into the wall. “This is… incredibly pathetic isnt it?… i should be more composed. I am the onewho handles the crises. I dont want to become your crisis… but i cant help it, you make me crumble, you have no idea how many times i had to run out of the office and sit in my car in the parking lot just thinking of ways i would take you and mark you as mine!”
“Just sit, Kento,” you murmured as you slowly stripped him down to his boxers, the sight of him was jarring. This was a man who wore three piece suits like armor. And here he was, shiverint slightly as the cool air hit his skin.
His body looked exactly as it did when you daydreamed of it. His abs were toned, his skin was soft, and his body was warm enough to give you goosebumps. He sat on the edge of the tub, and looked at you as you turned on the tap and watched the water fill the room.
A little piece of you wanted to avoid looking directly at him. There he was, your boss. The man who made you do paperwork until your head was throbbing. Sitting almost fully nude in your bathroom. With a body that screamed for you to look at.
And then, you began the task of sobering him up. You made him drink an entire liter of water, his throat bobbing as he swallowed obediently. Followed by two cups of coffee.
And then he sat in the tub, until the caffeine began to fight the sake. He remained a slobbering whimperiny mess, he wasnt getting “better” but he just becamr more aware of how much he wanted you now.
He reached out from the tub, and cupped your cheek, his thumb dragged across your bottom lip, looking at you with eyes that dripped of clumsiness and desperation.
“I feel… ravenous,” he whispered, his eyes dark and unfocused. “I want to devour you. I want to take every part of you… and make it mine. Please, my love, please do not push me away”
His pleas in the tub were yout last straw, you could not fight it anymore. He was winning, you wanted him back.
You managed to get him back to the bedroom, the air thick with the scent of coffee and the lavender candle that you lit as he was bathing.
The moment you arrived to the bed, and the moment his feet hit the plush carpet beside it. Nanami collapsed to his knees.
He hranned the hem of your skirt, hard enough for his knuckles to turn white with desire. His forhead pressing against your thighs.
He was shaking, nervous, scared and hungry. A small broken sound escaped his throat; a sound terrifyingly close to a sob. You have never seen a man this desperate. And it worked, your whole body was begging for him to touch it.
“YN- i cannot do this anymore…” he choked out, his voice cracking.
“Pleqse let me … i need to touch you. I need to taste you. I’ve been so good, haven’t i? I followed you around like a dog. Please let me eat you out… let me worship you…i will do anything… just let me have this”
The sight of him; this powerful stoic man that everyone was terrified of. Is literally drunkenly crying at your feet for a taste of you. You took his chin, tilting his head up. His eyes were red rimmed, his glasses long gone. His face carried the view of pure unadulterated longing.
“Do it, Kento,” you breathed.
He did not wait. As if he was scared you would change your mind suddenly. With a frantic, clumsy hunger, he stripped you, his hands reverent even in their desperation. He stayed on his knees, as if he believed its where he belonged. Pulling you to the edge of the bed so that he could bury his face between your thighs.
The first contact was electric. He wasn’t just “good” he was obsessive. He noticed every twitch you made, and kept every rhythm that made you scream, moan and call for him.
He used his tongue with terrifying percision, his hands grabbed onto your hips so hard you were sure you will bruise. And the way he whimpered into your skin, letting out needy whines everytime you arched your back made you break. In that moment, you knew that you needed him. And you meeded him more than you cared to admit.
“Oh my god… you taste better than i imagine,” he gasped against your thigh, his voice muffled and raw, he bit your skin, leaving marks like a map on your thighs. “My sweet girl, my perfect beauty… look how you are reacting to me… you are being so good, so perfect…”
He was a fountain of praise, the stoic man you knew was gone. And this man between your legs was a vocal one, a desperate hungry one. One that whimpered almost pathetically for you.
His mouth was never still, he shifted between using his tongue on your most sensitive parts, wnd gasping out whisperful confessions.
“You are so wet for me… thank you… thank you for letting me do this,” he sobbed out, his breath was frantic. “You have no idea how many times i stroke my cock thinking of tasting you… dreaming of these sounds you are making right now. Tell me you like it. Tell me i am yours, please seeetheart… tell me you are all mine”
He stayed there, until your legs started shaking. Obediently using his entire being for your pleasure. He wouldnt stop until he felt you shatter. His tongue explored every inch of you, with full devotion.
Nanami finally pulled back, though he did not go far. He remained on his knees, the plush carpet supporting his drunken weight, as he slumped forward to rest his forhead against your trembling thigh.
His breathing was a series of jagged, wet sloppy hitches. His pale skin glowed feverish crimson as droplets of sweat made him glisten so beautifully against you
He looked up at you, and the sight of him was devastatingly beautiful. His hair, damp and a mess over his forhead. His lips slick with juices he collected from your throbbing pussy. And his eyes, the ones that were usually sharp and haunting, this time were wide, glassy and swimming with pathetic desperation for you.
He looked like a man whose entire existence depended on your approval and wants.
“I can’t… angel… i cannot move my arms anymore,” he whispered, a stray tear escaping and tracing the flush of his reddening skin. He reqched up, his fingers weakly grabbing your waist, barely able yo maintain a grip. “My head is spinning but i want you…” his eyes were fixated on you, “help me, relieve my pain please, i think im going to burst” he added as he reached for his cock, his hand gently brushing against it as he let out a a shaky, broken sob. Burryint his face in the soft skin of your inner thigh.
“Come up here.” You commanded, your voice maternal and soft as you pat the apot next to you on the bed. “Come up here baby” you said again, reachint down, cupping his face and pulling him towards you.
He obediently followed your touch, like a moth to a flame. Collapsing onto his back with a heavy thud. He looked completely exhausted. His chest heaving.
His hands fell limp at his sides; only for him to immediately reach back up, hovering mid air, as if he were afraid to touch you without permission, yet begging for you to mount him like his life depended on it.
When you finally climbed on top of him, the iar left his lungs in a long, shuddering hiss.
“Oh god… yes,” he gasped, a smile instantly formed on his lips. His head thumping back against the pillow. “My angel, my sweet girl… look at you, look what you are doing to me”
You lowered your body onto him, Nanamis entire body arched, his back leaving the mattress as a high whine tore itself from his throat. Somehow, he made even whining sound masculine and badass.
And as his hot, throbbing cock touched your warm entrance. Even above the fabric of the towel, you felt him surrender completely to you. There was no doubt at that moment, that the ice king himself was a toy in your hands right now.
“You are so tight… it is perfect… how can you get even more perfect everytime,” he groaned, his eyes rolling back into his head as you rocked your hips against him.
He was incredibly vocal now, his voice a constant stream of praise and patheric needy encouragement. “Yes, just like that… please don’t stop… i do not care if i pass out, use me YN.. abuse me. I need to feel you.”
His hands found your hips, bur he did not try to direct his pace, he only gripped you to keep himself grounded.
“Tell me im yours YN” he begged, his voice was deep and commanding, yet reeked of desperation and hunger. “Tell me you own me. I want to be your favorite thing… i want to be the only thing you use. Look at me sweetheart… look how pathetic i am for you.”
He was a slobbering mess now, the pleasure and alcohol and the months of repressed longing all crashed into him at once. He was a whimpering mess beneath you. His eyes fixated on you as he called our your name like a prayer.
“I’m coming… keep me inside your warm pussy please, please stay with me, i love you so much”
When he finally shattered, he called out the your name so loudly it echoed in your apartment, his body trembled violently as you both released at the same time.
The moment the final violent tremor left both your bodies as you shook in orgasmic bliss. The two of you did not just relax; you went completely numb over each other. The adrenaline finally reached it limit. And before you know it, he let out a soft, final whimper as he surrendered to the sake and passed out beneath you.
You crawled off of him, your own body hummering with deep, deep satisfaction. You draped the duvet over his broad scarred shoulders. And fell into a sleep that felt less like rest, and more like a blackout.
The sun was the enemy, it cut through the windows of the apartment with brutal clinical efficiency.
Nanami woke up first. But he did not move, he layed perfectly still, The sound of ringing in his ear was agonising. He stared at the ceiling with the excruciating clarity of a man whose memory was sharp and unmoving.
Every detail of last night came flooding back, the cringy joke in the car, the way he collapsed on his knees and sobbed for you.
He remembered it all, the nicknames, the way your pussy felt around his hard throbbing cock…
He felt the heat rise from the back of his neck. At that moment Nanami was on fire. And he wished he would just die
When you finally stirred, the bed shifting as you sat up, Nanami closed his eyes for a split second, bracing himself. Then, he turned his head to look at you. His hair was a disaster, his eyes were bloodshot, and his face was a shade of scarlet that bordered on medical concern.
"YN-san," he started, his voice returning to its deep, formal baritone, though it carried a distinct, shaky rasp. "I believe I owe you... several apologies. And perhaps a formal resignation from my dignity. And my position. And possibly the country."
You let out a soft, sleepy laugh, reaching out to touch his arm. He flinched slightly, then leaned into it, his shoulders dropping two inches.
"Did I... did I truly ask you to... to 'ride' me because I was too tired to lead?" he asked, his voice dropping to a mortified whisper. "Or was that a particularly vivid, alcohol-induced hallucination?"
"You did," you whispered, smiling as you pulled the duvet up to your chin. "You also called me your 'sweet girl' about forty-five times."
Nanami groaned, covering his face with his hands. "God. I am... I am an inefficient, pathetic mess of a man. I’ve spent two years building a reputation of stoicism, only to dismantle it in a single evening of sake and... and whatever that was."
He sat up slowly, the sheet falling to his waist, revealing the faint marks your nails had left on his shoulders. He looked at them, then back at you, his expression shifting from embarrassment to something much more terrifying: sincerity.
"I've never... I've never let anyone see that side of me," he admitted, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw with a tenderness that made your throat tight. "I'm sorry if it was too much. I think... I think I’ve been holding all of that in for so long that when the walls finally came down, there was no stopping the flood."
He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours, his eyes searching yours for any sign of regret. Finding none, he let out a long, shaky exhale.
"I’m aware I was... uncharacteristic last night. But do not think for a moment that what I said wasn't true. I meant every word. Especially the parts where I begged."
He cleared his throat, the "Ice King" trying to pull his crown back on, even if it was a little crooked.
"Now... I am going to make you the most efficient, nutritionally balanced breakfast you have ever consumed. And then," he paused, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips, "I am going to spend the rest of the weekend proving to you that I can be just as 'pathetic' while entirely sober. If you’ll have me."
Follow me on AO3 I post more on there…
gummygunk
romaincrisis
turnnoffyourmind
origamiaround
pixelskylines
stormborns
