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Nanami can’t quite choose just one thing about you that drives him crazy. You are a conglomeration of bits and pieces that he feels were made just for him to love. Your transfer to Tokyo was, he believes, the singular best thing the universe had ever conspired. You were a breath of fresh air, a renewing force that swept away the cobwebs in his mind, the ashes left of his heart and soul after years of burning out. Life as a salaryman didn’t suit him, and while he doesn't particularly love working, he finds purpose in his sorcery and in helping guide the next generation of jujutsu sorcerers. He can even admit to himself that he is overly fond of Yuuji. Having purpose is well and all, but what he yearns for, aches for, is meaning. He’s tired, praying for his early retirement before something, or someone, takes him out.
And then you came into his life as a tempest, a whirlwind of falling leaves and petrichor and everything right with the world. He considers himself lucky that you gravitate towards him of all people, you with your smile and your gentleness despite the work you do. If he were anything other than a grown man of his temperament, he’d say he feels giddy in your presence, but he is a grown man with his temperament, so he can only describe himself as lighthearted, fulfilled, joyful, content. He is hard-pressed to remember a time where he felt any of those things, much less all at once.
It’s little things that draw him to you, friendship becoming companionship becoming an all-consuming desire and love for you. It’s the curve of your body, the scent that wafts from your hair, the sunny smile you save just for him, the crinkling of your nose and eyes when he says something particularly dry that makes you laugh. He would do anything, he thinks, to hear you laugh. You are wonderful with the students, their favorite. There’s a piece of you that you reserve for each of them and endears you to them. You took to Yuuji as much as Nanami did, fiercely protective and gentle with him even though he contained an evil beyond reckoning. A motherly figure for Megumi, so quiet and reserved and missing too much for someone so young. A friend for Nobara, someone to accompany her on her excursions into the city, be a girl with, be a friend. That was just the first years.
You were made to be loved, he believes. How could anyone not?
He’s a man though, so he appreciates your physicality as much as your heart. He feels weak in his knees during the summer when you swap out your long uniform pants for shorts that bare your thighs. His mouth goes dry when your neckline dips lower to give you reprieve from the heart and a bead of sweat trails down your chest. He’s captivated by the line of your throat, the softness of your hands. But during the summer is when he thinks he’ll reach his breaking point with you.
During the cooler months, you’re covered head to toe by your instructor’s uniform, but in the heat, you dress down, bare more skin. That’s when he first saw them, the tattoos on your arm and shoulder. He had never been particularly interested in tattoos and they still weren’t incredibly popular in Japanese society, but there was something about yours… He wanted to trace the lines of ink up and down your arm and kiss them on your shoulder. The first time he saw you in shorts and saw the ink on your thigh he thought he was going to combust. How high up did it go? What else did you etch into your skin that he couldn’t see?
He finds himself with his cock in hand late at night fantasizing about what your body would look like completely bare before him, how much of you was an artful canvas he could admire. One summer night, the heat has him dizzy and frantically jerking at his cock imagining it’s your mouth or, oh god , your sweet, sweet pussy. You’d cry his name so sweetly, beg him for more, beg him to be yours and only yours, beg him to come inside of you and claim you forever. That thought alone, the idea fucking you raw and unprotected only to come deep inside you would have him on the edge just as he’d barely gotten started.
In his fantasies he would marvel at the give of your flesh and fat under his hands and continue to trace the ink on your skin in rapt wonder. He wondered what the sweat on your inked shoulder would taste like. He’d never mar the skin under your tattoos, just in case it scarred and distorted the ink, but he had no qualms biting you where your skin was untouched and marking you in his own way.
Sweat beads on his brow and he thumbs the head of his cock. He’s not interested in tattooing himself, but would you mark him in your own way, leave bites and bruises and scratches that claimed him as yours? Maybe you would trace over them in the early morning light like he would trace your tattoos. Then would would reach down, palm his cock and ask sweetly - so sweetly - for him to fuck you again. Nanami finds himself thinking about everything he would do to you if given the chance. Fuck your mouth, eat you out, have you sit on his face - oh god - come so deeply in you that it takes and you’re his forever and-
That last thought has him gasping and shooting ropes of cum up his stomach. He strokes his cock as long as he can, until it’s too sensitive to continue, then throws his head back into his pillow. As he basks in the rosy afterglow of his orgasm, he feels slightly guilty. He doesn’t want to just use you as fodder for his fantasies. He wants to be the one to love you and to be loved by in return. His heart can’t take not being by your side.
Nanami Kento values his time; he works nine to five, meticulously plans his days, and carefully chooses the people he interacts with. Once he has decided upon something, he tends to follow through with it. It follows that the next day during your break from teaching, he approaches you, softly says your name to get your attention and feels his heart nearly stop in his chest when you turn your sparkling eyes and sunny smile his way.
“I’d like to take you out for dinner. Do you have plans tonight?”
Your lips form a perfect “o” in surprise; you love being around Nanami, look forward to it even, and you dream of going out with him, being his, but you never thought it would actually happen. Realizing that this isn’t a joke, that he’s not just pulling your leg because he never would, you feel heat flood your cheeks and your heart beats faster in your chest.
“I’d… I’d really like that, Nanami. Tonight is perfect.”
Nanami has a tendency to school his expressions, but he feels his mouth curve into a smile. He hopes his glasses hide the smitten look in his eyes.
“Wear something nice. I’ll pick you up at seven?”
“Mmm,” you hum, not trusting your voice to stay steady.
The rest of the warm summer day passes in a blur. You’re a little distracted when you return to your students, and Nobara is actually able to almost land a blow on you, but you chalk it up to your nerves for your date - your date!!! - with Nanami. You can’t see through his blindfold, but you know for a fact that Gojo has a brow raised and is suppressing a laugh at your expense. Motherfucker probably already knows that Nanami asked you to dinner. He’d probably made bets with Mei Mei about it, too, sneaky bastard.
When you get home, you strip out of your instructor’s uniform and sort through your closet for almost half an hour, debating what to wear, what would be appropriate and beautiful enough for someone as handsome as Nanami. You debate lingerie… On one hand, he surely wouldn’t want to sleep with you tonight. On the other, it’s been so long since you’ve been on a date, and it would give you some confidence. You’ve been saving the lacy powder blue set for a while now… Why not break it out? You find a black tea-length dress that’s been hiding in the back of your closet for who knows how long, throw it on over your lingerie, and pair it with a pair of sensible flats. When you’re finished with your hair and dressed, it’s 6:52. You hardly have time to pace before you hear the doorbell ring at 6:55.
You scurry to open the door, breathless when you see Nanami in a sky blue turtleneck and grey plaid suit with a bouquet of hydrangea and white camellias.
“I hope I’m not too early,” he says.
“Of course not,” you breathe. “Please, come in.”
As he steps over the threshold, Nanami bends to chastely kiss your cheek in greeting and presents the flowers to you. You’re hit with the scent of his cologne, something like tobacco leaves, amber, and spice. You close your eyes for just a moment, letting it go straight to your core, and you clench your thighs to fight the feeling.
“You look beautiful,” he murmurs.
“I- thank you. You do too,” you manage to stammer in response as you cradle the flowers. “Um, let me find a vase for these and- and we can go.”
He hums in agreement, following you to your kitchen. You wouldn’t know it, but Nanami went half hard in his slacks when he saw you, wide-eyed, dressed up for him , and your inked arms bare. It took every ounce of willpower to stop with a kiss on your cheek, to not slide his nose alongside yours and take you in a real kiss, run his fingers up your arms to your shoulders. The fantasies he’d entertained the night before briefly came to mind before he dismissed them. He was going to do this right, dammit, and you deserve more than a hasty fuck in your kitchen.
You find a vase, filling it with water and lovingly arranging the flowers in it. You look up at Nanami and smile. “Thank you, Nanami, these are lovely.”
“Kento,” he says. “Please, call me Kento.”
You duck your head and look up at him from beneath your eyelashes. “Kento… thank you.”
You maintain eye contact with each other for a moment before he softly clears his throat and holds out his arm. “Shall we?”
You smile and wrap your hand around his bicep. “We shall.”
The drive to the restaurant is spent mostly in companionable silence, a soft piano serenade playing on the radio. You occasionally comment on buildings you pass, noting that you’ve meant to go to this bakery or that bookstore for some time. (Nanami is cataloging what you’re pointing out as reference for future dates, because he’s not stopping with this one.) He allows the valet to take the car, offers you his arm again, and escorts you into the restaurant. It’s one you never would have dreamed of going to alone, much less on a date with Nanami. You feel a little out of place, and notice multiple pairs of eyes passing judgment on your tattoos, but then Nanami is looking at you with fondness as you sit across from each other and you can’t be bothered to care what the other patrons are thinking.
“I’ve been wanting to take you out for a while now,” he says after he’s given the waiter your drink orders.
Feeling bold, you reply, “I’ve been waiting for you to take me out for a while, so I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
This gets you a raise of his eyebrow and a subtle grin. “I’m glad we’re not wasting any more time then.”
Truthfully, the evening passes beautifully. Nanami watches you with suppressed glee as you moan over your meal, and you fixate on his beautiful, strong hands as they raise a glass of wine to his lips. You wonder what those strong hands would feel like holding yours, grasping your waist, sliding down your stomach to your clit. What would his fingers feel like curled inside of you, in your hair, wrapped around your throat? You feel the heat between your thighs dampen and shake your head slightly, as if to shake those thoughts free. Nanami shoots you a heated, questioning look, and you feel warmth in your cheeks as you focus on the tiramisu in front of you. You hear him chuckle quietly to himself, and you dare to look back up at him to find his eyes crinkled in a gentle smile.
“Something funny?” you ask.
He shakes his head. “No, you’re just cute.”
Your heart thump-thumps in your chest; you bite your lip to stop the giggle threatening to rise in your throat like you’re a little girl. You look back down at your dessert, then scoop up a bite and hold your fork out to him over the table. Without speaking, he leans forward and wraps his lips around the bite you offer him, and the fork comes away clean. He savors it for a moment, then hums after he swallows (and you wish you could see the bob of his throat under his sweater). He maintains eye contact the whole time, then pulls away and licks sweet mascarpone from his bottom lip.
“Mmm,” he hums. “Good choice.”
“Mmm, mmhmm,” you manage to squeak out.
He refuses to let you pay, because of course he does, and rather than hold out his arm, he extends his hand to you as you leave the restaurant. You put your trembling hand in his, and his palm is broad and warm as he squeezes yours. You step out into the cool night and he turns to look down at you.
“Honestly,” he murmurs, “I don’t think I’m ready for tonight to be over.”
You grin up at him. “I don’t think I am either.”
Rather than calling for his car, he leads you hand-in-hand down the street to a nearby park. He doesn’t tell you where you’re going, but you trust him, and you’re happy to simply walk at his side in the cool night. You know there’s nowhere safer than at his side. A fragrance hits you before you see it, a lane of blushing pink magnolia trees whose branches sway in the gentle breeze. White irises grow among the trees’ roots and somewhere close by you hear the babbling of a stream. You close your eyes and inhale deeply, letting the sweet air wash over you and sigh as you open your eyes.
“Nan- Kento, this is beautiful. Look at the blossoms under the moonlight.”
“Mmm, it is beautiful,” he murmurs.
You turn your face to look at him and find his gaze fixed on you, not the gardens. In the moonlight you can see his dark eyes filled with adoration that is both gentle and heated, and your breath catches in your throat. You gulp and dare to lace your fingers through his, pulling him to a stone bench beneath the trees. Nanami sits beside you, hand still clasped in yours, eyes still fixated on you. You’re nervous now, having him so close beside you, and you tap your toes in your shoe. You take a breath.
“Kento-”
“May I-”
You speak at the same time, stopping when you realize the other has something to say. This time you do giggle, and again his eyes soften with fondness.
“What were you going to say?” he asks, nudging your shoulder with his.
“I just wanted to thank you for how lovely tonight has been. This… This is wonderful, and I’m… I’m glad that I get to be here with you,” you admit quietly. After a beat you add, “What… did you want to say?”
You hear his breath catch in his throat and he raises your joined hands to his mouth, brushing his lips over your knuckles.
“I was wondering…” he pauses, breath soft on the back of your hand, “I was wondering if I could kiss you?”
His humor may be dry as hell, he may put up with zero bullshit from his colleagues, but here is the Nanami Kento you know. The one who is gentle and considerate and everything you’ve wanted for as long as you’ve been in Tokyo. For the thousandth time that night, you feel heat rise to your face, burn your ears where your pulse races.
“I think I’d like that very much,” you whisper.
Slowly, as if not to startle you, his other hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb glancing over your bottom lip. His eyes flicker quickly down to your mouth before he leans forward and gently kisses you. It’s pure, chaste, more a brushing of lips than anything else, but it has your nerves alight. When he pulls away to look at you, you grasp the back of his neck and press your lips to his in something more substantial, something wetter, something needier. You hear him groan deep in his throat as he opens his mouth beneath yours then nibbles on your bottom lip. Between the feeling of his mouth on yours and the scent of the magnolias in the cool night air, your head is spinning. You run your nails along the short hairs at the back of his head and shiver when he releases your hand to squeeze at your waist.
Nanami trails the hand cupping your face down your neck, thumb pressing lightly at your throat in a way that has you moaning - he’ll remember that for later - and grasps your upper arm. He feels the give of flesh and fat beneath his strong hands, but more importantly he feels the softness of your skin under the tattoos he’s admired for so long. You’re a piece of art, he thinks, a canvas of flesh and bone that he wants to dive into and leave his mark on until he can’t tell where he starts and you end. He’s hard in his suit pants - he can’t help it, how could he when you’re so beautiful and soft and letting him kiss you breathless?
You can’t tell how much time has passed. It could have been hours for all you care, but your mouths slow against each other and you part. You open your eyes to find him already looking at you with soft amazement and a hint of a smile on his face.
“You,” he breathes, “you’re incredible.”
You shyly tuck your face into the juncture of his neck and shoulder where his scent permeates your senses. His hand slides down to your hip, and he pulls your flush against his side. His heart beats quickly in his throat beneath your ear, as fast as your pulse in your own.
“If you’re amenable,” he says, “I would like to take you out again.”
You huff a laugh into his shoulder. “Consider me more than amenable.”
You’re not sure how it happens, but the months pass and your life has slowly intertwined with Nanami’s. One date becomes two, then five, then ten, and before you know it you have a toothbrush and a silk pillowcase and half of your closet at his apartment. At this point you spend more time at his place than yours, and you’ve fallen into a sort of domesticity together. Gojo teasingly calls you “Mrs. Nanami,” which has Yuuji’s eyes wide before you have to explain that his instructor is an asshole who likes to make jokes at others’ expense. Even Shoko, the traitor, asks when she can expect to see a ring on your finger. You scold your friends and swear up and down that that’s a long way away, if it happens at all.
It has you thinking though. In your heart, you want what you have with Nanami to last forever, or as long as your line of work lets you. Neither of you bring up the M word, haven’t even talked about whether this is a committed relationship, but every now and then you catch yourself wondering what his hand would look like with a ring on his finger, what the word “husband” would feel like in your mouth.
Around the two month mark you’d had a discussion about becoming partners, a conversation he had actually initiated.
“I don’t want to dance around this,” he says one night, kneading a ball of sourdough with strong hands while you prepare dinner. “I want us to be together.”
“Like, together together?” you tease.
He goodnaturedly rolls his eyes. “Yes, together together.”
“Hm, I guess it will get Gojo to shut up, plus you’re pretty cute… So, yeah. We’re partners.”
He throws a pinch of flour at you which makes you laugh, and not for the first time the L word pops into his head. He fucks you for the first time that night, soft and slow, and he lets that word slip past his lips. You say it back when you come around his cock, and again as you drift off to sleep. Nanami’s heart is fuller than it’s ever been, and he knows he wants this forever, too.
(Gojo did not, in fact, shut up; if anything, making your relationship official made him even more insufferable.)
You can hardly believe it when it’s already been more than six months and you’re celebrating the New Year together with your friends who pester you to give each other a midnight kiss. You roll your eyes and pull Nanami down by his tie to your friends’ cheers, patting his cheek as he blushes. He pinches your hip when the others finally look away and begin to drunkenly sing over glasses of champagne.
“Just wait till we get home,” he murmurs in your ear.
The day after the New Year, you call your tattoo artist and make an appointment. You’d been thinking about a new piece ever since a cool night in mid-October when Nanami had you in his lap, bouncing on his cock.
“God, you’re so beautiful, my love, my life,” he gasped. “You’re a work of art.” He bit into your shoulder, sucking the skin and pulling away to see the mark he left. “These never last for long. I wish I could leave something permanent that says you’re mine forever.”
While there was one thing that would tie you to him forever, you didn’t think you were ready for it yet, and that was a conversation you’d rather have much further down the line. In the meantime, you’ve planned this new piece, and the appointment is at the beginning of March. When the day comes, you let Nanami know you’ll be out for a few hours, and he kisses you softly and says he’ll have dinner ready by the time you get home. (Home is more or less his apartment at this point; you spend so little time at your own.)
The hardest part of getting this tattoo, you think, is keeping him from seeing it while it heals and goes through the itchy, scaly healing process. Luckily, or maybe not, there are multiple incursions of grade-one and special-grade curses throughout the prefecture that keep everyone busy for a full two weeks. You hardly see each other, if at all; you’re too preoccupied between helping Shoko with first-aid and watching your kids’ backs as they put their all into their fights. It’s only in passing as you hand each other reports and sit in meetings with the other instructors that you get to see each other, but never privately.
By the time the incursions die down, the cherry blossoms are beginning to bloom, and everyone is sent home for a few day’s leave. You and Nanami walk into his apartment together after the last of the reports are submitted, the last of the paperwork filed, and he all but collapses into you,
“I thought that would never end,” he mutters into your shoulder.
“Mm, me neither. I think I just want to sleep for the next three days.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Surely that’s not all you want to do?”
You pat his chest. “I think we both need some rest before we do anything too strenuous , big guy. How about a shower?”
Nanami groans but nods and makes his way towards the bathroom, pulling off his tie. He looks over his shoulder at you. “Will you join me, at least?”
“Do you even have to ask?”
His tired eyes crinkle in a small smile, and he nods to himself as he continues on his way to the shower. You putter around the kitchen for a few minutes, waiting until you hear water running to follow him to the bathroom. Even after a long day, he’s considerate enough to have folded his dirty clothing on the counter and set two fluffy towels out for the both of you. You hear him sigh in content behind the curtain as hot water rains down shoulders that are tense from two weeks of hell. You peel out of your instructor’s uniform, noting that you’ll need it mended, and set it neatly beside his clothes. You take a second to look at the healing ink on your body. You hope he likes it, hope that it means as much to him as it does to you. You nod to yourself and pull aside the curtain to join Nanami under the spray.
He’s facing towards you as you step in, opening his arms to truly hold you for the first time in weeks. You press your face into his wet chest and relish in his warmth. You place a kiss over his heart then tip your head up to look at him. He’s tired, truly, probably barely standing at this point, but still strokes your hair back and kisses your forehead, presses his nose to your hair.
“I missed you,” he murmurs, just audible over the falling water.
“I missed you, too, Kento. Two weeks was too long. Took more out of me than that one Christmas Eve did.”
Nanami just hums and squeezes you tight. “Here, let me wash your hair,” he says after a moment. He rubs your shampoo into your scalp and you sigh at the feeling of his fingers in your hair, at washing the day’s grime off of you. He’s so gentle, bending to kiss your shoulder once he’s rinsed the suds out. He combs your conditioner into your ends, fingers brushing the sides of your neck and making you shiver. He steps aside to let you rinse your conditioner yourself.
“Baby, let me take care of you, too,” you murmur. He nods, putting his hands on your hips and closing his eyes as you reach up to wash his hair. The earthy scent of his shampoo floods your senses and you can’t recall a time you’ve felt more secure or safe than in this instant here. You kiss the hollow of his throat when he tips his head back to rinse his hair, and he chuckles lightly. You let him know you’re finished, setting your hands against his taut stomach. He runs his hands from your shoulders down your arms, then back up past your waist. He stops when his fingers reach the raised skin over your ribs and under your breasts. He looks down at you, concern flashing in his eyes for a moment.
“Were you hurt?”
You shake your head. “No, I wasn’t. It’s, um, something I’ve actually been waiting to show you. Um, here…” You extricate yourself from him, backing up and cupping your breasts to reveal your new ink. Under your breasts, curving around your ribs, are bunches of hydrangeas.
“I, um, I got this done a few weeks ago,” you said, keeping your eyes on his chest. “I thought about it for a while. I wanted to get something that makes me think of you, and that would be something special for us… You brought me hydrangeas on our first date, remember? And- and they’re supposed to represent ‘heartfelt emotion and understanding,’ at least that’s what I read. I just… I’m home with you. You make my heart feel so full and I feel so understood and comforted just by being around you. I… I think you’re it for me, which is why I felt comfortable getting this piece and… I, um… Yeah.”
You know you’re babbling, and you can feel your eyes go misty as you explain the piece to him. He’s incredibly silent, the only sound between you coming from the water which continues to fall on him. You nibble at your lip and dare to look up into his eyes. It’s hard to tell given the water dripping off his hair and down his face, but you could swear that he is fighting back tears. You watch his throat bob as he swallows heavily and blinks hard.
“Kento, do… do you like it?”
He meets your eyes, nodding his head and pulling you back into him. His grip on you is tight, and you feel a shaky breath leave his chest against the crown of your head.
“I… I love it so much… Love you so much… God, I must have really done something good in a previous life to deserve you in this one.”
“I think you’ve done plenty of good in this life, love,” you say against his neck. “Besides, you don’t need to do anything to deserve me. I’m yours. I think I always have been. Always will be.”
Nanami pulls back to look at you, eyes dark and steady. He gently grasps your chin between his finger and thumb, and brings your lips to his in a deep, wet kiss. You gasp into his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to run his tongue over yours. His other hand slides from your hip up to your ribs, over the hydrangeas, before cupping your breast and thumbing a nipple. When you squeak, he plucks at it till it stands stiff and sore. The wet sounds from your mouths echo against the tile walls and you press yourself as hard against him as you can. Heavy and hot against your thigh is his filling cock; your nails claw down his back and around his hip to fist the hard length of him. The moan that spills from him goes straight to your core and you feel your thighs grow slick as he twitches in your grasp.
Nanami pulls away from your mouth, nibbling down your throat and sucking on your pulsepoint where he knows you go weak in your knees. “Need you, now,” he gasps between bites to your skin. “Please, love.”
“You have me,” you manage to whine. “Come on, baby.” You back away from him, pulling back the curtain and grabbing the towels as he cuts the water. He takes a towel from you and, even in his need, gently towels your hair before falling to his knees and drying off your legs. He’s not entirely without ulterior motives though; he grabs at the back of your knee and throws your leg over his shoulder. He kisses, bites, and sucks up the soft, damp skin of your inner thigh and finally takes a thumb to spread your lips wide.
“Kento, baby, you don’t have to- ahhh!”
He takes your clit into his mouth, sucking harshly, and his eyes close when you tug at his wet hair. The tip of his tongue runs over and around it, now a point, then flat, but always in motion. Your leg twitches where it rests on his shoulder and he releases your clit to run his tongue up the length of you, dipping inside your dripping cunt. He teases your hole, drinking in your essence, and then the hand holding you open is slipping between your lips and two fingers are curled up and into the tender, gummy spot inside of you. He groans at the hot clench of you and anticipates how you’ll feel wrapped around him. Nanami pulls back ever so slightly to look up at you as he fingers you and feels his cock twitch at the pleasure on your face. He is doing that to you, only him. You marked yourself with him in mind, etched something meaningful somewhere only he has the privilege to see and then told him that he’s it for you. How can he not give you everything in return?
He dives back in to roll his tongue over your clit in divine figure eights that have you keening out his name. This is his favorite part of eating you out, he thinks, the part where your breath quickens in your chest, your soft thighs trap him against you, and your walls tighten around his fingers in preamble to his cock. You gasp and beg for more, and he’s never been one to deny you, so a third finger joins the others in curling into you and he presses his nose flat against the fat of your mound to seal his mouth around your clit. You cry out when you come, a song of his name and precious sounds he wishes he could bottle up and keep forever. When the rhythmic pulsing around his fingers comes to a stop, he rains kisses upon the thigh still hooked over his shoulder, nuzzling into it and looking back up at your face.
Your heart pounds in your chest and your grip on his hair loosens to caress the damp strands. He watches as you catch your breath, willing your pulse to slow in your throat as you throw your head back to rest against the wall. He waits so patiently for you, though you know he must be aching for relief. Once you’ve come back into your body, you look down at him with adoration that is reflected in the smile he gives you. You grip his hand and pull him up to stand before you and into a soft, heated kiss. You taste yourself on him, sharp and tart, and your heart is full, amazed by this man in front of you who would give the world on a silver platter if you only asked.
“Bed,” you say simply, softly, linking your little finger with his and guiding him behind you. Nanami follows, and you know he would follow you wherever you lead him, to the ends of the earth and time, but now you lead him to the bed you share. You release his hand as you lay back against the pillows, but he’s quick to join you, sliding between your thighs and kissing you with a fervor that belies how exhausted he must truly be. His fingers come to circle your clit and press into your hole again, and he hums when he finds you still dripping.
“Kento, baby,” you whine, “stop teasing me. I’m ready, I want you.”
He places a firm kiss on your forehead, on your lips. “Sorry, love. Can’t help it. I’m here, you have me.”
The fingers inside of you reach to line up his cock and you sigh as he presses forward. His fingers felt nice, but the stretch of his length and the depths he reaches are divine. The slide is slick and easy, and you feel all the tension he’s carried in his shoulders and spine fall away when he bottoms out inside of you. He stays still for a moment, basking in the heat around him and simply breathing your air. You bring a hand up to cup his face, and he turns to kiss your palm. You know you’re smitten with each other; you can see it in the smile he gives you and feel it blossom in your chest.
“Missed this,” he sighs, dropping his head to your shoulder.
“Mmm,” you hum, “me too. Too long without you.”
Nanami is nearly boneless in your arms, but considerate enough to keep from crushing you. He could fall asleep like this, you think, but that’s not your aim right now.
You nuzzle your nose into his hair and kiss at his ear. “Please, move,” you breathe against him.
“Anything for you, always,” is his reply.
His hips pull back and roll forward in a deliciously slow slide that drags along your walls. Your breath catches in your throat with every deep but gentle thrust. He whispers sweet nothings into your throat, “I’m so lucky you’re mine,” “You’re so beautiful,” “Thank you for being mine,” things that lodge in your ears and that you commit to memory. Your Kento almost always begins this way, the considerate, gentle, and slow lovemaking that lets him savor each inch of you, lets him hold you the way he always craves. His pelvis grinds against your clit with each roll forward, but it’s not quite enough for you. You can tell he’s holding back; tonight you know that both of you don’t need slow. It’s been weeks since you’ve been together like this, and as nice as this pace normally is, you need to be able to still feel him the next morning. You wrap your thighs around his hips and squeeze, pulling him flush against you. He groans as you clench down on him.
“You need this as much as I do, baby,” you coo at him. “Take me the way you’ve been dying to. Fuck me .”
Nanami pulls away from your neck to gaze hazily down at you. There are dark circles under his eyes, but his pupils are blown wide and you feel him jump inside of you. He gets up on his knees and grasps your thighs to take you with him. He feels you clench around him as you’re adjusted, and he shudders over you. He slowly withdraws, and you’re about to be a brat and tell him to hurry up, but he snaps his hips forward into yours. You cry out, back arching as he tucks his arms under your legs and sets a new pace that has your eyes rolling back into your head. It’s not much faster than the one before, but it’s definitely harder, more intense, and the head of his cock brushes over something sweet in you with every stroke.
“Is this- hah, is this better?” he asks.
“Mmm,” you breathe, “feels good, baby.”
He quietly chuckles, continuing to pound away at you. You can hear how wet you are; the lewd squelching of your cunt and smack of his hips against your ass has heat rushing to your face. You have half a mind to be embarrassed, but the look on his face at the sounds you make puts all thoughts of shame to rest. You keep your eyes on him, biting your lip as a bead of sweat forms at his pulse point, rolls down the tendons in his neck and between his pectoral muscles. He decides he doesn’t feel close enough to you, isn’t touching enough of you, so he grabs one of your legs, throwing it over his shoulder like he did as he ate you out. He wraps a large hand around your thigh, holding it to his chest and biting at the tender skin on the inside.
This hold he has you in stretches muscles that are sore from weeks of fighting and at this point he’s just showing off his strength. He has the leverage to fuck down further into you and he bottoms out with each sharp thrust, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. You nearly shout when he shifts just slightly and his cockhead punches into your soft spot over and over. Your cunt all but drips around him, arousal sliding down your slit and easing the slide as he picks up the pace.
“Ah, yes! Right- ah, right there, Kento!” you cry. “Nnn, so good, baby, yes-”
You’re starting to feel it, the muscles in your belly tightening and the heat rising in your cunt. You reach down to rub at your swollen clit, gasping at the dual sensation of his cock and your fingers. Nanami sees you circling your bud and moves the hand holding you open to pinch and roll it between his rough, warm fingers. Your hands move up to your breasts, cupping them and rolling your nipples. Nanami sees the beautiful ink you’d gotten with him in mind again, and he’s close to losing it.
“You’re so beautiful, do you know that? I’m- hah- I’m the luckiest man on this goddamn planet. No one else gets to see you like this, no one else gets to make you feel like this. It’s all for me, isn’t it?
Between the sensation in your cunt and his loving words, you feel tears well in your eyes. “No- no one but you, Kento. Only for you.” You close your eyes against the onslaught of emotions.
“Love, look at me, please. Let me see you,” he pleads, thrusts growing desperate and sloppy.
You open your eyes and feel warm tears roll down your cheeks and into your hair. Nanami is panting over you, but his eyes are dark and filled with nothing but adoration and amazement. You’re so close now, so, so close. Praise pours from his lips and all it takes is a few swipes of his thumb over your clit and a well-placed thrust to have you crying out and gushing around him. Tears continue to stream from your eyes as your orgasm and love for the man making you feel this way overwhelm you. He gasps when you spasm around him, when you drip down his thighs.
“Oh, god, love- I can’t- Where should I come-?”
You have enough wits about you to gasp out, “Inside, please, inside!”
Nanami drops your legs, falling forward to press his chest and mouth against yours, and he moans deeply as he spills inside of you. He continues to thrust weakly as he pumps his cum deeper into you, hips coming to a stop when his cock stops twitching within you. He feels your legs wrap around his hips, trapping him against and within you. He breathes heavily against your neck and relaxes when you comb your fingers through his hair, nails running against his scalp. For a brief moment, he fears he’s crushing you and goes to pull away, but your arms and legs squeeze around him.
“Stay,” you whisper. “Need to feel you here.”
He obeys, relaxing fully in your grasp and humming softly when you place a gentle kiss to his temple. He’s as tired as you are, you know for certain. He’ll be a little grumpy about it, but you can wait to clean up in the morning. Right now, you both need to rest.
“I love you,” he murmurs into your collarbone, placing one last kiss against where your pulse is beginning to slow. He’s falling asleep, but he hears a sweet, “ I love you too,” in response, and as he drifts away, he thinks of the ring hidden in the bedside table. He’ll give it to you soon, he thinks, but first he’s going to sleep soundly, safely, in your arms.