Nanami’s wife had a big teeny tiny obsession with sundresses. In fact, over a quarter of your wardrobe was occupied with sundresses hung meticulously in colour order along the railing. You looked so happy in them, eyes creasing as you smiled with glee.
It drove Nanami absolutely crazy.
Of course he loved the dresses and he loved seeing you happy even more, but the way the material hugged your chest and hips, the way it flowed beautifully around your lower half and swayed in slow motion whenever you moved had him going insane. He felt his cock hardening whenever you walked out of the bedroom and the self control he had to teach himself was becoming unbearable.
“Kento? Are you okay?”
His head snapped up to your eyes instantly, reaching for your hand and kissing your knuckles gently. “Sorry, sweetheart. I’m fine.”
“You seem distracted,” you add on.
“Just… work stuff,” he lied, trying to avoid eye contact with your yellow sundress, little blue flowers printed over it.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Your adorable concerned expression had Nanami staring down at his lap, counting to ten in his head to try and prevent all the blood rushing to his groin. His jaw tightened painfully.
“I’m okay, darling. Thank you for offering.”
You wouldn’t let up though, unable to move on from the conversation because of how weird your husband was acting. You squeezed his hand gently from across the dining table. “Kenny, are-“
You pause mid sentence when he groans, eyes squeezing shut. With a curious mind, you lean down to look under the table and notice the large bulge forming in his work trousers.
You can’t help but burst out into giggles.
Nanami stares at you like you’re personally offending him.
“Love, it’s not nice to laugh.”
“Aww, you’re so cute, Ken! Why didn’t you just tell me?” One foot outstretches to press against his groin under the table, eliciting another low moan.
“Didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he grits out.
“Hm? How do you mean?”
“I didn’t-“ His breaths becomes shorter. “-want to make you feel sexualised in your dress.”
You beam. “So you like them that much, huh?”
He groans again when you rub over his hardened cock slowly. “Don’t tease, darling. You know I love them, and you.”
“Oh, I know. Now I wanna see just how much you love them.”
┃nobody knows Nanami moves like an animal behind closed doors.
───────────────────────────────
"a-aah fuck, Nanami~"
you're tied up to the bedpost, flat on your stomach, taking your husbands dick greedily. It's dark outside, indicating he's been inside you for hours now. His big hands push your waist further into the mattress, keeping you in place.
"F-fuck, stay riiight there, honey." he groans into your ear, sending zaps to your clit.
You met Nanami at the office. You fell in love with how gentle he was. He was so patient with you, going at a pace you were comfortable with.
The first time you had sex with him, you told him how you have a very high sex drive, and that you understand if that's something he's uncomfortable with. But he simply said, "Okay."
You were confused at first, but he quickly proved keeping up with you in bed wouldn't be an issue.
Who would've thought the quiet coworker was an absolute animal in bed?
"w-wait Nanami, too much a-aah" you mewl.
"Use your safe word then, honey." he taunts.
his thumbs swipes on your clit, making your back arch off the bed, but he keeps you right in place, making sure you take all of him.
You knew your safe word. He made sure it was engraved in your mind, and you should use it right now, but he feels so good inside your cunt. Pumping in and out in a pace that made you roll your eyes back. He's stuffed you so full of cum, it's oozing out.
"You're wasting all of my cum, honey. Keep it inside for me, yeah?"
He falls on top of your back and grinds deeper inside. He's so heavy and big in every aspect.
"I-I'm sorry, I can't control i-it."
"It's okay, honey. Just gotta fill you up with more of me, right?"
His arm moves to your neck, putting you in a chokehold; your chin sits on his elbow. He squeezes slightly, making you squirt all over his cock.
The night was far from over. But you're right where you want to be.
You’re sitting on Nanami’s lap, completely spread open for him.
Your thighs are spread as wide as possible, draped over either side of his, your back pressed against his broad, solid chest. Your skirt is hiked all the way up to your waist, your panties long since pushed aside.
His long, thick fingers are fucking you without mercy, plunging deep into your soaked pussy with a slow but brutal rhythm.
Every thrust makes a wet, obscene sound. Two fingers sink in to the knuckles before pulling out almost completely, only to slam back in harder. His knuckles rub perfectly against your G-spot with every stroke, while his thumb circles your swollen clit with precise, steady motions.
Your juices are flowing abundantly. They soak his fingers, run down his hand, and stain his expensive suit, that perfectly tailored dark gray trousers that must cost a small fortune. A dark, shiny wet patch is already forming on the fabric, but Nanami doesn’t care at all.
“Let go,” he murmurs against your ear, his voice low, calm, and slightly husky. His warm breath caresses the back of your neck. “You can get as wet as you want. This suit is nothing compared to the feeling of you like this around my fingers.”
You moan loudly, head falling back against his shoulder. Your hips move on their own, meeting his fingers with every thrust. Your body trembles, your thighs trying to close reflexively, but he holds them open with a firm hand on the inside of your leg.
“Nanami… ugh pls!” you cry out when he curls his fingers just right, pressing hard against that sensitive spot that makes you see stars.
He speeds up slightly, fucking your pussy harder, deeper. The wet sound of his fingers sliding in and out of you fills the living room. Your juices are now flowing freely, soaking his pants, his thigh, and even the couch beneath you.
Nanami places a slow kiss on your neck, then gently nibbles your skin before licking the spot.
“You’re so wet for me…” he breathes, almost in awe. “Look at what you’re doing to my clothes. You’re so open, so drenched just for me.”
His fingers continue their relentless work: plunging deep, curling, rubbing, while his thumb never leaves your clit, stimulating it without pause.
You feel the orgasm building fast, violent and uncontrollable. Your walls clench around his fingers, your thighs shaking hard.
He smiles against your neck, a calm but satisfied smile, and picks up the pace just a little more.
“Then come,” he murmurs in a low, commanding voice. “Soak me completely. I want to feel your pussy squeezing around my fingers.”
His thumb presses harder on your clit, his fingers fucking you faster and deeper. The orgasm hits you brutally. Your body arches violently against him, a raw cry escaping your throat as your walls spasm rhythmically around his fingers.
A hot jet bursts out of you, soaking his hand even more, his pants, and the couch. You squirt, unable to hold it back, your pleasure gushing abundantly over him.
Nanami lets out a soft, satisfied growl, continuing to move his fingers slowly to prolong your orgasm until you’re trembling and breathless in his arms.
When the spasms finally subside, he gently withdraws his glistening fingers from your soaked pussy. He brings them to his mouth and licks them slowly, never taking his eyes off you.
“Delicious,” he murmurs, voice still a little rough. “And my suit is completely ruined… but it was more than worth it.”
You answer with a small, incoherent sound, too exhausted from your orgasm to speak properly. You feel Nanami smile against your shoulder. He turns your head and kisses you tenderly.
• ꒰ ۶ৎ ꒱ ::. pranking husband!nanami that he forgot you two had a date :: cw slightly suggestive.
it was 6am on the dot, you woke up and saw kento still asleep next to you and you got an idea. you pulled his arms from around you softly and giggled as you left the bed.
you stood at the bathroom counter, it was cluttered with skincare, makeup products, and an obnoxiously large bombshell curling rod. you had half your makeup on as you multitasked on your hair as well. you smiled at yourself as you sat in front of the mirror.
the sound of footsteps approached from behind you as kento creaked the door open in just his boxers.
“what’ya doing? you got girls plans today?” kento whispered, his groggy and rough voice sending a jolt of electricity straight to your inner thighs. he placed kisses all across your neck, subconsciously giving you hickeys.
you stared at him with a deadpan expression and his confused expression almost made you burst out laughing. it looked like he was trying to remember every single important event in his life.
anniversary?
birthday?
funeral?
party?
he couldn’t figure it out.
“you seriously forgot?” you asked him, playing the ‘angry wife’ part completely. “last night you told me that you would treat me for breakfast at the good spot we had our first date at. you specifically told me to be ready by 7:30.” you told him, complete seriousness in your voice as you lied badly.
“oh uhm yes, of course baby..! it must’ve just slipped my mind..” kento murmured under his breath while he ran his fingers through his dusty blonde hair.
you watched for an hour as kento looked absolutely stressed out, he pulled strings to get an early reservation, he picked out his nicest suit, orders flowers to the house and even pulled out his expensive berlutis. he did this all in the assumption that he’d forgotten the date that he swore on the night before.
“are you ready?” nanami called out to you from the foyer, holding a bouquet of pink orchids at 7:30 exactly. you came out of the bathroom to see your husband standing at the front door, perfectly polished as if he wasn’t just in full panic mode a few minutes ago.
at that moment, you couldn’t do anything but laugh. it started as a small giggle which grew louder and louder as you were in complete disbelief. kento on the other hand just stood there dumbfounded. absolutely confused.
“did i do something wrong?” he asked, putting on a small pout.
“nothing baby im just wondering. do you remember telling me about that date last night?” you asked him in a condescending tone, tilting your head to add on to the humiliation. your husbands face tinted a shade of pink as the realization hit. his face went through a cycle of fifty emotions at once, ending with amusement.
“huh.. youre really something, aint you..” nanami said as he walked towards you slowly, abandoning both his shoes and the flowers at the front door. he picked you up and hauled you over his broad shoulder.
“let go!” you yelled at him playfully, hitting at his back as you giggled. he placed a heavy smack on the span of the fat on your ass, laughing along with you.
“dont think you’re getting out of this so easily now.”
♯ uh oh! looks like your coworker managed to ruin your day again! you've been coming home with the same sour attitude all week, and while nanami has been patient.. even he has his limits. twt link
nanami sighed, the sound heavy and resonant in the quiet of the living room. you were draped across his lap, the fabric of his oversized shirt riding up to your waist, leaving your lower half exposed save for a pair of thin, pink cotton panties. your hips were angled perfectly for him, and your skin was humming with a fierce, throbbing heat.
smack!
you let out a sharp cry, your fingers gripping the fabric of his trousers. the sound of his palm meeting your flesh was loud, echoing through the room.
"kento! that hurts," you whimpered, your brows knitting together as you instinctively recoiled. he merely sighed, gently but firmly guiding you back into place as though your protest hadn't changed his mind in the slightest.
"i believe we discussed this, didn't we?" nanami’s voice was calm, devoid of anger but laced with a stern, unwavering authority. "the moment you step through that door, the frustrations of your café stay outside. yet, for five days straight, you've walked in here and projected your irritation onto me. i will not tolerate a foul attitude in my home."
"i can't help it!" you cried, your words barely audible through the cushion you had buried your face against. your vision swam with tears, warm droplets staining the fabric.
"he’s just— he’s such a prick, ken! he undermines everything i do, and i just—"
smack!
"your coworker's incompetence is not an excuse for your insolence toward me," he interrupted, his hand lingering on your asscheek for a moment, feeling the heat radiating from the skin. ever so often, he’d shift his weight, ensuring you were pinned firmly against his thighs. "now, are you going to continue making excuses, or are you going to apologize for how you've spoken to me this week?"
"i’m sorry," you mewled, your voice barely holding together. another wave of tears blurred your vision, spilling freely despite your attempts to hold them back. "i’m sorry, ken—”
smack! smack!
"ah!— easy!" you protested, letting out a small yelp as you instinctively tensed.
nanami didn't answer immediately. instead, he let his hand slide from your reddened cheek down to the center of your heat. and through the thin cotton of your panties, he began to rub you, his palm applying a slow, rhythmic pressure that made your breath hitch. the contrast was dizzying—the stinging fire on your backside and the sudden, mounting pleasure between your legs.
"you’re so worked up," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, becoming a low vibration you could feel against your hip. "your heart is racing. is it the anger, or is it this?"
you drew in a shaky breath, instinctively falling quiet as you tried to steady yourself through the pain.
smack!
“answer me, honey. don’t go all quiet on me.”
"both!” you squeaked, toes curling while you arched your back instinctively into his touch. "feels so good..”
"it feels good because you know you've been bad," he countered. not even a second later, he shifted his hand, hooking two fingers under the elastic waistband of your panties and tugged them aside just enough to gain access.
“what are you—”
a strangled moan left your mouth as he buried his fingers deep inside you without giving you any time to adjust.
“oooh fuuuck.. kentooo..”
you were already slick, your body betraying your frustration and turning it into raw desire. he moved his fingers with a methodical precision, curling them upward to hit the sensitive spot that made your toes curl and your vision swim.
"look at me," he commanded.
“i— i can’t—”
smack!
you yelped out his name once more and quickly twisted your head back, looking up at him through tear filled eyes. nanami looked down at you, his expression still stern, though his eyes had darkened with a hunger he usually kept tightly controlled.
"do you understand why this is happening?" he asked, his fingers continuing to pump steadily inside you, stretching you open.
"yes," you breathed, your voice trembling. "because i— i was mean! because i took it out on you!”
"correct."
he paused his fingers for a second, only to deliver one more sharp, stinging slap to your red ass. you shrieked, the shock of the pain causing you to clench around his thick fingers. "and since you're so stressed from work, i think it's only fair that i help you release all that tension. right here. right now, yeah?"
his thumb began grinding against your nub while his fingers worked deep inside your soaking wet walls.
"kento, please.. im gonna—“
"not until i tell you," he whispered, leaning down to press a firm, possessive kiss to the nape of your neck. "tell me you'll be a good girl tomorrow. tell me you'll leave that man's ghost at the door."
"i will! i promise!" you cried out, your hips bucking wildly against his hand. "i'll be good! just please, don't stop!"
nanami let out a small, satisfied hum, his fingers accelerating into a blur of desire and satisfaction.
"that’s my girl."
i need him so bad bro 🤤🤤🤤🤤 ok so basically ive been wanting to post this for a while but i never got to editing it BUT i finally have r u proud of me
The hotel door clicked shut, sealing out the muted hum of the city outside. Nanami let out a long, slow sigh as he set his briefcase down by the desk. He reached to loosen the knot of his tie with a sharp tug before pulling it over his head and tossing it onto the arm of the single chair.
Before he could even take off his suit jacket, his phone vibrated in his palm. The caller ID brought a sudden, subtle shift to the tight line of Nanami's jaw. He slid the screen open, pressing the phone to his ear as he leaned back against the desk. "Hey, love," he murmured. His voice was lower than usual, roughened by hours of corporate small talk, but laced with a quiet, easy warmth reserved only for you.
"Hey," your voice came through the speaker, instantly cutting through the lingering tension in Nanami's shoulders. "How was your day today?"
"It wasn't too bad," Nanami replied, his eyes drifting down to his leather shoes as he kicked them off. "Still exhausting, though. I just made it back to the hotel. Have you eaten dinner yet?"
"Mhm, had some takeaway," you said. There was a brief pause on the line, the kind of quiet that carried the weight of the distance between you. "I miss you."
The words hit him right in the chest, a sharp pang of longing making Nanami close his eyes. "I miss you, too," he said softly, meaning every syllable. He ran a hand through his blonde hair, pushing the strands back. "Alright... I'm going to have a shower."
"Okay," you hummed, a yawn clipping the edge of your words. "Call me back when you're done. I love you."
"I love you. Speak soon."
Nanami waited for the line to go dead before lowering the phone, the sudden silence of the room feeling twice as heavy now. He stepped over to the bed, reaching out to click on the bedside lamp. The small knob turned, instantly bathing the crisp white sheets in a warm, low glow.
Standing in the newly lit space, Nanami finally shed his suit jacket, draping it over the back of the chair. Reaching into the inside breast pocket of the jacket—the secure spot where he always kept his most important items—his calloused fingers brushed against the familiar, stiff edge of a photo.
He pulled it out, intending to just set it on the nightstand before his shower. But as he unbuttoned his shirt and stripped down to his dark blue boxers, leaving his tailored clothes in a rare, disorganized pile, Nanami’s gaze locked onto the small square of film.
In the dim, sterile glare of the lamp he had just switched on, the polaroid felt like a visual hallucination. The lighting in the photo was golden and overexposed, radiating a warmth that this room desperately lacked. There you were, caught mid-laugh on that beach in Malaysia from your last trip together. The ocean breeze was catching the hem of your white sundress, a single strap slipping carelessly off your shoulder. You looked bright, carefree, and entirely alive in the heat of the coast.
The shower was forgotten.
Nanami moved away from the chair, the weight of his exhaustion swallowed by a throbbing, pulsing ache. He sank onto the edge of the mattress and shifted his large frame back against the pillows. As he settled, his glasses slid down the bridge of his nose—blurring the rest of the room and leaving nothing but you in sharp focus.
Squinting through the shadows, his eyes traced the deep, low dip of the white sundress in the polaroid—the way it beautifully revealed your cleavage made his throat go completely dry.
He couldn’t tear his eyes away. His breathing hitched, a sudden, punishing ache tightening in his groin as his gaze lingered on your cleavage. Your skin still gleamed in the photograph from where he had slowly rubbed sunscreen over your body, his palms smoothing the lotion down the slope of your breasts until you were glistening in the sun—deliberately slipping his thumbs under the fabric of your dress to tease your nipples until they were hard under his touch.
The dark blue fabric of his boxers was already beginning to strain, his length thickening painfully against the cotton from the sheer force of the visual. Hearing your voice just moments ago had been no comfort, but seeing you like this now, with his skin still burning from the memory and the distance between you feeling like an ocean, it was an agonizing temptation.
His mind instantly raced back to that night in Malaysia. He remembered taking you back into the villa, his fingers catching on the fabric of your sundress to slide the straps down your arms. Burying his face in the crook of your neck—his tongue licking a wet trail up your throat, sucking greedily at your skin until you whimpered beneath him. His broad, calloused palms clamped around your breasts, kneading the soft flesh.
Nanami could still feel the exact sensation of sliding his thick, leaking cock between them, using the tight, sweltering cleavage of your chest to ruthlessly pump his length—watching your tits hug his slick shaft while he rasped how badly he wanted to stretch you wide open. The memory was so loud, so violently clear, that his restraint completely dissolved.
Low and frustrated, he groaned under his breath, finally reaching down to cup the heavy bulge straining against his boxers. His hand moved downward past that golden line of hair—the faint blonde happy trail disappearing beneath the dark blue cotton—his gaze locked entirely on the curve of your waist in the photo.
A ragged, breathless sound escaped his throat as he grazed his thumb over his throbbing tip through the fabric—making his stomach muscles flex tightly as the first slick beads of pre began to dampen the material. Unable to handle the restriction for another second, he hooked his fingers into the waistband and finally released his aching cock.
As the veiny, heavy weight sprang free, Nanami's calloused hand wrapped around it desperately—fisting the pre-cum up and down his hard length, his thumb deliberately smearing the wetness over the sensitive head to begin a slow, torturous stroke. Nanami was a man who prided himself on absolute control, but right now, every ounce of usual discipline was utterly gone, burned away by the raw ache of missing you.
He dragged his palm down to the very base of his shaft, knuckles brushing against his thighs before wrapping tightly to pull all the way back up to that leaking head. The slick pre coated his skin, creating a wet, sliding friction that had him closing his eyes just to focus on the sensation.
His brow furrowed deeply, sweat beginning to bead along his hairline and dampen his blonde strands. He kept his eyes wide—refusing to blink, his gaze entirely captivated by your carefree smile, the thin fabric of the sundress hugging your tits, and your warm, shiny skin glowing in the polaroid.
In the sudden heat of illusion, the sterile white noise of the hotel AC unit transformed into the distant crash of ocean waves. He wasn’t in this lonely room anymore. He was back in that villa, pinning you down into the mattress, pressing his lips to the sensitive column of your throat and breathing in the intoxicating scent of salt air and perfume, burying himself balls deep inside you.
Nanami’s hips twitched against the sheets as a large hand clamped around his length, pumping his fist up and down his shaft. Eyes shuttered tight, the memory consumed him entirely—imagining the slick drag of his cock against your wet, parted lips, the crushing friction of being squeezed tight between your tits, and the maddening sensation of driving deep inside your cunt. The urge to hammer into you over and over until you were stretched wide, stuffed completely full of hot seed, almost made him cum right there.
"Ah... fuck," he breathed out. The wire rimmed glasses slid further down his nose, utterly forgotten as his grip tightened. A faster, desperate pace took over, driven by the pleasure coiling tight and demanding inside his lower belly. Here was a man completely stripped of his carefully constructed rules—entirely at the mercy of a single polaroid of you.
His chest heaved, the stark white hotel sheets bunching beneath his massive frame as the rhythm fractured. Keeping a slow pace was no longer an option. Nanami’s knuckles went white, his rough hand fisting his veiny, engorged shaft with a punishing, frantic speed.
The sound of wet squelches filled the quiet room, his jaw locking as his thumb smeared slick over the rigid edge of his head. He brought the polaroid closer to his face, vision blurring with sweat as his eyes traced the line of your collarbone, the curve of your waist, and the soft smile he missed so dearly.
“So beautiful... ah,” he choked out, his voice dropping roughly into a low, rumbling groan. “You're so fucking beautiful, sweetheart...'"
The praise was a desperate murmur, breathed directly into the empty air of the hotel room—as if you were right there beneath him to hear it. His hips jerked upward, mimicking the exact rhythm of driving into your cunt. His thumb swept over his leaking pink tip sending a jolt straight to his groin. The coiled tension in his lower belly tightened into a hard, inescapable knot—his balls tightening. He was right on the edge, completely consumed by the ghost of your touch.
Nanami choked out your name—a ragged, breathless prayer against the quiet room as he finally came. He ruined his hand as the first hot bursts of cum shot straight past his fingers, splashing against his lower stomach before the rest of the thick, heavy load spilled over his knuckles and flooded the blonde patch of hair at his groin.
“F-fuck, I miss you so much,” he groaned, his voice completely undone. Desperate fingers refused to stop, milking his length dry, forcing the oversensitive shaft through those last few strokes while thick, hot cream continued to drip down his twitching cock and palm.
He stayed frozen like that for a few seconds, his chest heaving, his fingers trembling where they still gripped his settling length. The lingering echo of the Malaysian surf dissolved back into the sterile, humming silence of the hotel room.
Slowly, the drugged fog of pleasure began to recede, leaving behind an aching exhaustion. Nanami let out a long, unsteady breath that trembled past his lips. He let his head sink back into the pillows, his glasses sitting crookedly on his nose. With slow movement, he used his clean hand to lift the polaroid back up to his face.
In the dim, warm light of the bedside lamp, you were still there—smiling, carefree, and beautifully out of reach. He stroked a thumb over the glossy surface of the photo—as if he were truly touching you—before setting it gently on the nightstand.
He forced his heavy limbs to move, sitting up on the edge of the bed to clean himself up. The cold reality of the business trip settled back over his shoulders like a lead weight, but as he looked back at the small square of film under the lamp, the lingering warmth in his chest reminded him exactly what he was working so hard to return to.
Nanami reached to grab a few tissues from the nightstand, his fingers still trembling slightly from the aftershocks of the release. But just as his hand brushed the box, his phone buzzed loudly right beside it. He paused, a drop of sweat rolled down his jaw as he looked down at the bright screen.
the oven timer beeped right as the front door clicked open. you wiped flour-dusted hands on your apron, already moving toward the hallway before the beep had fully died out.
"hey, handsome," you called, rounding the corner just as nanami stepped inside. his tie was slightly loosened, his sleeves rolled to the elbows—small signs of a long day finally unwinding. he blinked at you, then at the faint scent of vanilla wafting from the kitchen, and something in his expression softened.
"hello, my love," nanami replied, his voice low and warm like the oven you'd just left. his briefcase hit the floor with a soft thud as he reached for you, one broad hand settling at the small of your back. you could feel the heat of his palm through the thin fabric of your apron.
he didn’t say anything else, just pressed his nose against your temple and inhaled deeply, his breath hot against your skin. you laughed, tilting your head to give him more room. “long day?”
"mm," he murmured, lips grazing your jawline. his other hand came up to cradle your face, thumb brushing absently over the smear of flour you’d missed near your ear. you could feel the tension in his shoulders, the way his body leaned into yours like he was borrowing your warmth. "you baked."
you hummed, sliding your fingers under his loosened tie to tease the first button of his shirt.
"wanted to make something sweet for you." his exhale was sharp when your knuckles brushed the hollow of his throat. the oven beeped again, an insistent reminder—but neither of you moved.
nanami’s grip tightened at your waist, pressing you closer until the starched fabric of his shirt rumpled against your apron. his mouth found the curve of your neck, open and wet, and you gasped when his teeth scraped lightly over your pulse. "kento—the cookies—"
"let them burn," he growled, and then his hands were under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly against him. your legs locked around his hips on instinct, heels knocking against his perfectly tailored slacks as he carried you backward toward the kitchen. the counter dug into your lower back when he set you down, but you barely noticed—not when he was shoving the apron up your thighs, his palms rough against your bare skin.
your breath hitched as nanami’s fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your thighs with a slow, deliberate tug. the cool air of the kitchen kissed your exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his gaze—dark and intent, like he was mapping every inch of you.
"kento," you breathed, fingers tangling in his hair as he dropped to his knees between your legs. his palms smoothed up your calves, then higher, thumbs pressing into the softness of your inner thighs to spread you wider.
"you taste so sweet," he murmured, voice rough as he leaned in, his breath ghosting over your damp skin. the first lick was slow, deliberate—a teasing drag of his tongue that had your hips jerking forward. nanami chuckled, the sound vibrating against you, and his grip tightened to keep you still.
"impatient," he chided, but there was no real scold in it, just that low, honeyed warmth that always coiled low in your belly.
his mouth was relentless after that, alternating between broad, languid strokes and sharp, focused flicks that had your toes curling against the tile. every sound you made—every gasp, every whimper—only spurred him on, his fingers digging bruises into your skin as he dragged you closer to the edge.
"love you like this," he rasped between kisses, lips glistening. "love you messy, love you unwashed—fuck, you’re perfect."
the oven beeped again, a distant, forgotten noise as you arched into him, fingers tightening in his hair. nanami groaned against you, the vibration sending a shockwave of pleasure up your spine.
"that’s it, sweetheart," he murmured, dragging his tongue over you in a way that made your vision blur. "come for me.
your thighs trembled around nanami’s shoulders as his tongue pressed deeper, relentless in its rhythm—every flick and curl deliberate, every breath he exhaled against your skin sending shivers up your spine. the countertop was cold beneath your palms, but you barely registered it, too focused on the heat of his mouth, the way his thumbs dug into your hips to keep you from squirming away.
"kento," you gasped, voice breaking as his teeth grazed your inner thigh, a sharp contrast to the softness of his lips just moments before.
"say it again," he demanded, voice rough, and when you moaned his name louder, he rewarded you with a slow, torturous lick that had your back arching off the counter. the apron tangled between your legs, bunched up in his fists as he dragged you closer, until you could feel the scratch of his stubble against your skin.
"god, you’re sweet," he muttered, lips moving against you as he spoke. "could eat you for hours."
you clutched at his hair, tugging slightly, and he groaned, the sound vibrating through you as his grip tightened. "close?" he asked, voice thick, and when you nodded frantically, he hummed in satisfaction, lips curling into a smirk against your skin.
then his fingers joined his mouth, pressing inside with the same slow, deliberate precision, and you shattered, a broken cry tearing from your throat as your hips jerked against his face. nanami didn’t let up, drinking you in as you came, his free hand sliding up to press against your stomach, pinning you to the counter as you trembled.
"good girl," he murmured, finally pulling back to press a kiss to your inner thigh, his breath hot against your oversensitive skin. "so good for me."
you slumped forward, barely catching yourself on his shoulders as your legs threatened to give out. nanami stood in one smooth motion, his hands sliding under your thighs to lift you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist on instinct. his mouth found yours, deep and possessive, and you could taste yourself on his tongue—sweet and faintly salty, mingling with the vanilla still clinging to your skin.
"missed you," he admitted against your lips, voice quieter now, almost tender.
the kiss broke with a soft, wet sound, and nanami pressed his forehead to yours, his breath still warm against your lips. the kitchen smelled like burnt sugar now—somewhere between the oven’s forgotten cookies and the heat still radiating off both of you. you laughed, breathless, and he smiled, just a little quirk of his lips, before pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth.
“you’re ridiculous,” you murmured, fingers combing through his hair where you’d missed it moments earlier. his tie was completely undone now, hanging loose around his neck, and his shirt was wrinkled beyond repair. nanami didn’t seem to care, his hands still firm on your thighs as he held you against him.
