"After the storm"
A/n Finally ive written a new fic and im so sorry for being away for so long, i have a few fics i'II try to upload quick maybe tonight or tomorrow.
A/n also ive noticed that the kinktober fics i posted hasnt showed up or hasnt been uploaded,what i mean by that is that when i posted them and laid down the phone my tublr must have glitched or something and hasnt uploaded them, i will try to find them or write them again so thats why there isnt any updates, im really sorry! So heres a nanami kento fics as my aplogies
Enjoy!♡
Made for specifically @katsukispubies ♡
Warnings// heavy smut, MDNI please! [Also I havent watched jjk yet so im really sorry if his job is incorrect!]
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The door to your apartment clicked shut with a heavy finality, the sound echoing through the quiet space like a punctuation mark on the end of Nanami Kento's grueling day. You glanced up from the couch where you'd been scrolling through your phone, the soft glow of the lamp casting warm shadows across the room. It was late—past 10 PM—and you'd been waiting for him, knowing from his terse text earlier that the mission had dragged on longer than expected. Curses, overtime, the endless grind of being a sorcerer. He hated it, even if he never said it outright.
Nanami stood there for a moment in the entryway, his broad shoulders slumped under the weight of his tailored suit jacket. His tie was already loosened, hanging crooked like a noose he'd half-escaped. Blonde hair, usually impeccably styled, was disheveled, strands falling over his forehead. His glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, but behind them, his eyes—those sharp, hazel eyes—held a storm. Fatigue etched lines around them, but there was something else too. A tension that coiled through his frame, making his jaw clench and his fists ball at his sides. Pent-up energy, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. You could see it in the way he kicked off his shoes a little too forcefully, the thud against the wall making you sit up straighter.
"Hey," you said softly, setting your phone aside. "Rough day?"
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he shrugged off his jacket, draping it over the back of a chair with precise, controlled movements. His shirt clung to his chest slightly, damp from the November chill outside or maybe sweat from the fight—you couldn't tell. Nanami was always so composed, so stoic, but tonight, the cracks were showing. He crossed the room in a few long strides, his presence filling the space like a thundercloud. When he reached you, he didn't sit. He loomed, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck, the other reaching out to cup your chin gently, tilting your face up to meet his gaze.
"You have no idea," he murmured, his voice low and rough, laced with exhaustion. But there was heat in it too, a edge that made your pulse quicken. His thumb brushed over your lower lip, a simple touch that sent a spark straight down your spine. "I need... I need to forget about it. Just for a while."
You knew what he meant. This wasn't the first time work had left him like this—wound tight, every muscle screaming for release. And you were his anchor, his outlet. You nodded, your hands sliding up to rest on his hips, feeling the firm lines of his body through his pants. "Then let me help," you whispered, your voice steady even as anticipation built in your chest.
Nanami's eyes darkened, and without another word, he leaned down, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was hungry, demanding—his lips pressing hard against yours, tongue sweeping in to claim you with a possessiveness that made your breath hitch. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you up from the couch and flush against him. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, the solid wall of his chest pressing into your softer curves. He was already half-hard, the bulge in his pants evident as it brushed against your thigh, a silent testament to how badly he needed this.
He broke the kiss only to trail his lips down your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin just below your ear. "Bedroom," he growled, the word more command than suggestion. You didn't argue—couldn't, really, with the way his hands were already roaming, one slipping under your shirt to palm your breast, thumb circling your nipple until it peaked under his touch.
You stumbled together toward the bedroom, shedding clothes along the way. Your shirt hit the floor first, then his, revealing the expanse of his toned torso—muscles honed from years of training and fighting, a faint scar running across his ribs from some old curse encounter. He paused just inside the door, his gaze raking over you in your bra and leggings, eyes hungry. "God, you're beautiful," he muttered, almost to himself, before closing the distance again.
His hands were everywhere now—unclasping your bra with practiced ease, tossing it aside as he backed you toward the bed. You fell onto the mattress with a soft bounce, and he followed, kneeling between your legs. Nanami's fingers hooked into the waistband of your leggings, pulling them down along with your panties in one swift motion. The cool air hit your exposed skin, making you shiver, but his touch was fire—calloused palms sliding up your thighs, parting them wider.
"Look at you," he said, voice husky as he stared down at your bare pussy, already glistening with arousal. "Already wet for me. You knew I'd need this, didn't you?" His fingers traced teasing patterns along your inner thighs, inching closer but not quite touching where you wanted him most. You whimpered, hips bucking slightly, but he held you down with one firm hand on your hip. "Patience. I want to savor this."
But patience wasn't in his vocabulary tonight. The pent-up frustration from the day surged through him, and he dipped his head, his mouth finding your clit with unerring precision. His tongue flicked out, lapping at you in broad, flat strokes that made your back arch off the bed. "Kento—oh fuck," you gasped, fingers threading into his hair, tugging as he sucked gently, then harder, the suction pulling a moan from deep in your throat.
He groaned against you, the vibration sending jolts of pleasure through your core. His free hand joined in, two fingers sliding easily into your slick heat, curling upward to hit that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids. He pumped them slowly at first, building a rhythm that matched the flicks of his tongue—deliberate, relentless. You could feel the tension in him, the way his shoulders bunched, his breaths coming in hot pants against your skin. This was as much for him as for you; eating you out like a man starved, losing himself in your taste, your sounds.
Your thighs trembled around his head, the coil in your belly tightening fast. "I'm—close," you panted, but he didn't let up, fingers thrusting deeper, tongue circling faster until you shattered, crying out his name as waves of ecstasy crashed over you. Your pussy clenched around his fingers, juices coating his hand, and he lapped it all up, drawing out your orgasm until you were boneless, gasping.
Nanami pulled back, his lips shiny with your arousal, eyes blazing with need. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then stood to shed his pants and boxers. His cock sprang free—thick, veined, the tip flushed and leaking precum. It bobbed heavily as he climbed back onto the bed, settling between your legs. "Need to be inside you," he rasped, voice strained. "Now."
You nodded eagerly, reaching down to guide him, but he was already there, the blunt head of his cock nudging at your entrance. He pushed in slowly at first, inch by inch, stretching you deliciously. You both groaned at the sensation—him filling you completely, bottoming out with a shudder. "So tight," he muttered, forehead pressing against yours. "Fuck, you feel perfect."
He gave you a moment to adjust, but the pent-up energy won out. His hips snapped forward, thrusting deep and hard, setting a pace that was rough, almost desperate. The bed creaked under the force of it, his body slamming into yours with each stroke. You wrapped your legs around his waist, nails digging into his back as he fucked you into the mattress. Skin slapped against skin, the wet sounds of your pussy taking him filling the room—obscene, real.
Sweat beaded on his brow, dripping down to mingle with yours. He angled his hips, hitting that sweet spot inside you over and over, making you keen. "Kento—harder," you begged, and he obliged, one hand gripping your thigh to pull it higher, opening you up more. His other hand found your breast, pinching your nipple as he pounded into you, the mix of pain and pleasure pushing you toward the edge again.
"Take it," he growled, his usually composed voice breaking. "Take all of me. Let me use you—fuck, just like that." His thrusts grew erratic, the tension in his body coiling tighter. You could feel him thickening inside you, the vein along his shaft pulsing against your walls. Your own climax built rapidly, spurred by the raw intensity of him—the way his muscles flexed under your hands, the grunts escaping his lips.
"Come for me again," he demanded, slipping a hand between you to rub your clit in tight circles. "Want to feel you milk me."
It was too much—the friction, the fullness, his commanding tone. You came hard, vision blurring as your pussy spasmed around his cock, squeezing him rhythmically. "Kento—yes, oh god!"
That pushed him over. With a guttural moan, he buried himself deep, hips stuttering as he spilled inside you—hot ropes of cum painting your walls, filling you up. He kept thrusting through it, drawing out both your releases until he collapsed on top of you, breathing ragged.
For a long moment, you lay there tangled together, hearts pounding in sync. Nanami finally lifted his head, pressing a softer kiss to your lips. "Thank you," he whispered, the storm in his eyes finally calmed. "I needed that."
You smiled, running a hand through his damp hair. "Anytime." And as he pulled out slowly, a trickle of his cum leaking from you, you knew this was just the start of unwinding his day—real, messy, and utterly satisfying.
