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ccazimi · 3 days ago

Text

Currit in Sanguine Nostra

pt. 1 - pt. 2

cw: vampirehunter!sukuna x vampire!reader, dubcon, enemies to...enemies with benefits (??), blood obviously (blood drinking, bleeding, blood as lube), violence/fighting/gore/graphic descriptions of injuries, sadism/masochism, forced starvation, captivity, bondage (usage of muzzles/chains), knifeplay, wounding/cutting, degradation, feet stuff (reader humps his foot), humiliation, mild voyeurism wc: 12k a/n: this was so long i decided to just split it into parts :3 also i imagine sukuna to look like this in this fic

songs i listened to while writing this part

snarler - craig wedren, anna waronker

teeth - lady gaga

your addiction - night club

the wretched (remix) - nine inch nails

The first ever encounter with each other — that fight was brutal, messy.

Sloppy.

It was nearly midnight, in a long abandoned warehouse district at the outskirts of the city that Sukuna had tracked you into. Once bustling with activity, now a ghost town of rusting metal and crumbling brick.

The warehouse buildings have collapsed partially, some with entire walls missing, leaving jagged edges and exposed beams of twisted metal. Old rotten crates and broken machinery litter the ground, shards of shattered glass glinting in the faint, cold pools of light — flickering streetlights and and the occasional neon sign of an abandoned convenience store.

The place feels like a fun house in a fair, long warped shadows stretching over the debris.

And under the rain that falls in thick sheets, pouring relentlessly and drowning out the sound, you and Sukuna fight like wild animals.

None of the precision, the careful strategy or finesse one would perhaps expect from the final heirs of two ancient bloodlines—one born to hunt, the other born to feed.

Supposedly this feud started as far back as the Heian Era, possibly even longer. But none of that matters right now.

Right now you are just two inexperienced predators trying to kill each other.

You underestimated him—just another silly human, you thought. Hiding behind metal weapons, barking empty threats.

But you're the vampire. He’s the human - he should be prey.

And yet, Ryomen Sukuna is anything but.

Even in his own inexperience he’s a natural at what he’s supposed to be, making up for the lack of night vision with other senses that have been trained to compensate instead, keen enough that they could rival a vampire’s. He doesn’t need to see too well when he can rely on his hearing, on his quick reflexes, even his nose.

The rain proves to be a disadvantage as well, making the ground too slippery for you to effectively bolt at high speeds.

And soon the ground is splattered red, slick not just with rain.

Your fight was so primal, almost delirious in its intensity, that no words were even shared — just snarling and screaming and grunting and the thrashing of bodies and squelching of torn flesh.

Finally the deciding moment has come, where Sukuna pins you to the ground, thinking he has you. Broken glass cuts into your back, embedding itself into the skin, through the gaps of your already shredded top.

You’re no stranger to pain, though it does enrage you all the more.

So you fight dirty, spitting and digging your clawed nails across his face, that visceral yet satisfying feeling when you feel the nails, still filthy with the blood of your last kill, piercing into the soft, delicate flesh of his right eye.

The feeling could only be described as…gelatinous.

Sukuna’s agonized roar is instant, the pain blinding and white-hot. Blood runs down his face, and the smell of it that’s been teasing you all night, invites you to finally bare your fangs, ready to go for the killing bite.

But even with his right eye useless, Sukuna refuses to let go of his weapon, and when he catches the glint of your teeth, without thinking his blade is shoved into your mouth, pushing down on the hilt to plunge it upwards.

At the same time you reflexively bite down with all the strength left in your jaw — only to feel the sickening crack of bone breaking against steel.

It feels like you’ve bitten into broken glass.

With a strangled cry you shove him off, stumbling to your feet immediately as he gets to his knees, blood still gushing from his ruined eye, grabbing his weapon.

Your tongue flicks over the jagged remnants of your fang, that empty space where the tooth used to be, the iron of your own cold blood coating your mouth.

You limp back into the shadows as he staggers to his feet.

It’s only later when you’re sitting at the bar of a high-end nightclub, still absentmindedly running your tongue over the now healed stump of your left canine, you process that fight.

Born to an old, dwindling vampire bloodline, you were raised in secrecy, always moving place to place to avoid hunters. The traditional legends of aristocratic vampires always made you scoff — you and your family who had lived like ghosts, hiding in abandoned buildings, remote villages, or underground.

Despite it you were taught pride in your lineage — reminded that vampires are superior to humans, that they should never beg, never bow.

If a vampire “asks” something of a human, it’s not really a question.

Perhaps this was the reason you’d grown to have a taste for the luxuries of the modern age, hanging around neon lights and penthouses, carrying yourself with quiet arrogance. Though it’s an confidence born from survival, not entitlement.

You must believe you’re above humans, for your survival.

You’d heard of Sukuna before, known for years that he was supposedly your enemy by blood alone, but you hadn’t really given much more thought to it, especially not after your parents were murdered.

You were raised that in a world that wanted you dead, sentimentality was not an option — not even to mourn losses.

You were taught only to keep moving forward.

So that’s what you did when you found them with stakes driven through their hearts, limbs already turning to ash. Perhaps their deaths didn’t shatter you because they never let you believe they’d always be there in the first place.

Their battles didn’t particularly concern you, and you had better things to do than go on some drawn out hunt for revenge, and to avenge your family.

Well, that was before.

Because after that encounter, you decided nothing else mattered except Ryomen Sukuna.

A few months later, you feel more confident this time around that you’ll be able to kill him. And you don’t know for sure, but you have a strong feeling that he’s been tracking you as you roam city to city.

Sukuna’s learned a few things about you — that you enjoy cities, particularly those with good nightlife. Clearly a preference since your kind won’t necessarily burn in the sun, or anything as dramatic as the human stories always make it out to be.

Rather you all tend to be allergic to sunlight, some more than others. Your photosensitivity is noticeable, but not the worst — nothing more than some itchy hives and sneezing. Sometimes you get watery eyes and a runny nose too. It really just passes off as a normal pollen allergy.

On the other hand, you’ve picked up a few things about Sukuna as well — most notably so far that there are two things that matter to him above all: his ego and pride.

You suppose that conspicuous injury you gifted him might almost be as humiliating as your own chipped fang.

Almost.

Nothing can compare to the offense of breaking a vampire’s fangs. You’ve grown a habit of hiding them now even when around others like you, just so they won’t notice it.

And eye isn’t quite enough payment for that, you think.

So you arrange a trap, meticulously leaving a deliberate trail of blood and bodies to mark your presence, obvious enough for him to follow but still vague to the point that’ll keep him guessing. The trail leads to somewhere that’s sort of unusual for you — the countryside, far from the city, to a large sprawling mansion.

It’s a bit rundown, sort of the middle of nowhere, and likely abandoned some years ago.

Perfect.

You don’t have to wait long, only till the second night when he arrives.

The second round begins rather…slow.

Sukuna enters the mansion and though nothing has shifted out of place, he can feel it — your presence, permeating the atmosphere. You stand on the upper floor that overlooks the main entrance, watching him from the shadows.

It’s dark, even the moon is just a sliver of a crescent in the night sky, hardly enough to offer him any light.

You can see perfectly fine, though.

Sukuna can sense your gaze on him from somewhere in the pools of darkness, but he doesn’t react, preferring to let you guess whether he knows you’re here or not.

And you pick up what he’s trying but frankly you just can’t help yourself.

“Looking for someone?”

He doesn’t turn but you can see him smile in the dark, showing off those perfect set of teeth.

Annoying.

“Are you hiding from someone?”

You scoff.

Hiding. He’s trying to agitate you on purpose.

And it won’t work.

“Maybe I just like to play with my food.”

He hums. And then—

So quickly that you barely have time to dodge, something slices through the air.

The silver bullet buries into the drywall right where your head was a second ago.

Sukuna just laughs. “Oops. I guess I like to…play with my food, too.”

You’re honestly impressed by how good his aim is, even with his right eye socket scarred over.

But you’d never admit that, so you just chuckle lightly. “Well if you want me, you’re gonna have to work for it.”

And so it begins.

He hunts you through every hallway, every corridor, every shadow-drenched corner of the mansion. You circle one another—silent, stalking, both knowing one wrong step could mean the end.

You try to bait out another shot. A few, even.

Nothing.

Either he’s toying with you, or he’s saving them. Maybe both.

Frustrating.

And when long enough passes with no sound of his revolver, desperation creeps in.

So you take the risk. A deep inhale and a sharp turn—stepping fully into view, right across the hall from him.

Silence.

His hand rests on the trigger, steady, but he doesn’t pull it. Doesn’t even flinch.

You grit your teeth, muscles tensed, wondering if you can close the distance before he fires when suddenly, he smirks.

And lowers the fucking gun before rolling his eye.

The gall of this man.

“That’s the best you’ve got? Trying to jump scare me?”

You stare at him venomously, and though he can’t see it too well in the dark he can feel your disdain practically radiating from you.

“I could kill you right now before you could even do anything. But that feels kinda cheap, doesn’t it?”

“You’re welcome to try,” he says amicably. Then his eye glints, widening with a sudden thought, and he grins like he’s just remembered something delightful. “Oh- wait! I've got something to show you, almost forgot…”

He pulls out the silver chain tucked into his shirt, and at the end of it, something catches your eye.

White, and pointed…

Your fang.

You look up at him, momentarily speechless as his grin widens and he holds your tooth between his fingers like it’s some trinket. “Took it as a little souvenir to, you know…remember you.”

Needless to say, you are fucking livid.

“You disgusting bastard,” you hiss, synapses firing as rage floods them.

And just like that you’re across the hall in half a second, lunging towards him in your blind fury.

“You PIECE OF SHIT, I’LL RIP YOUR OTHER EYE OUT AND FUCKING EAT IT—”

You’re fast, and you’re strong. And Sukuna knows how to use this against you.

Instead of meeting you head on he pivots just in time, grabbing your wrist so that your own momentum sends you crashing into the dusty wooden floor. You’re back on your feet instantly, but then a flash of silver, and hot, searing pain in your side.

It spreads across your skin, numbing and tingling, and you start to feel sick.

Because of course a silver blade wasn’t enough, the bastard had to lace the tip with wolfsbane.

It’s not deep enough to kill, but definitely enough to slow you.

You snarl, still trying to throw him off, but Sukuna once again twists your momentum, forcing you into a corner.

This is bad. Now there’s nowhere to dodge, nowhere to effectively use your speed.

You lunge again, aiming for his throat this time, but either he’s faster than you expected, or the poison’s slowed you down.

There’s a crack and powerful kick sweeps your legs right out from under you, and just like that you’re on your back, his weight pinning you down, one hand wrapped around your throat.

Sukuna’s eye is burning with excitement, as he looks down at you triumphantly, panting slightly.

“That was fun. Wanna go again, or are you gonna pout now?”

You try to break free, but his other hand comes up — only now you realize it’s gloved. You don’t have time to think before he presses it to your jaw, holding you in place, and the pain flares from his touch.

Silver-lined gloves.

You hiss, though the poison is taking its toll on your body and your cold skin is now clammy, chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.

He laughs, leaning down slightly at your lips curled back in ferocity, eyes slitted as you try to jerk your face away from him in vain. His grip only tightens making your flesh burn, a pathetic cry clawing out of your throat.

“Careful, sweetheart.” The bare hand comes up to your lips as he holds your face in place, thumb brushing over it to pull your top lip back, inspecting your broken canine with interest. “You keep baring those pretty little fangs at me, and I might just have to take the other for my collection.”

You tremble with rage only contained in your flesh because of this incapacitating toxin invading your body. If not for that wolfbane—

“I’ll kill you, I’ll fucking murder you and you know what? I won’t even eat you, I’ll just leave your body to fucking rot in the dirt—” you sneer your promise, fingers twitching at your sides.

He looks down at you condescendingly, like you’re a petulant child throwing a tantrum that only entertains him. “That’s the look. Keep that anger — it looks real good on you.”

That’s the last thing you hear before another sting to your side of a syringe plunging into your skin, before you pass out.

When you come to a few hours later, cold, shivering, and throwing up — he’s nowhere to be seen.

The game stretches on over the next two years— you, with your chipped fang and him, with the scarred-over hollow where his right eye used to be.

Despite the damage, neither of you falters. If anything, the wounds only sharpen your instincts. Refine your roles.

The hunt evolves—more complex, more elusive… more intimate.

Along the way, more of your kind fall to him and Sukuna earns a name. Whispers trail in his wake, rumours thick and grotesque of one of the most brutal vampire hunters of the century.

A man who doesn’t just kill—but lingers.

Draws it out, torments.

Vampires captured and kept alive, tortured until boredom finally drives him to end it.

Every one one of them have been found with their left fangs broken off and missing.

And your resentment festers.

How ironic��his reputation, his rise, all built on traits borrowed from the very monsters he claims to despise.

Cunning. Patience. Sadism. A thirst for blood too, just not human blood. That, perhaps, is the only line he hasn't yet crossed.

You? You’re no innocent - far from it. But at least you never pretend to be anything other than what you are.

Your trail is just as red, just as damning.

But your victims? Almost always men.

From nameless beggars to powerful CEOs that send media and authorities into a frenzy— Their throats, torn open, their arteries drained.

And always—always—their right eyes, gouged out.

The floor is cold against your cheek—slick with dirt and blood. You're sprawled out, face-down, cheek mashed to the concrete beneath the unyielding press of his boot. Your wrists burn where the silver chain bites into them, pinned behind your back.

You should’ve known better - you did know better.

After years of sensing him at the edges of your life—always watching, always circling, he vanished.

No signs, no whispers, nothing.

The absence felt like a blade hollowing you out from within.

You told yourself someone else must’ve gotten to him. But of course, that wouldn’t do.

He was yours, yours to chase, yours to kill.

So you hunted him down this time, tracking him like prey.

This one’s on you.

You should have been suspicious when you found him waiting in a warehouse that looked eerily similar to the first one you ever fought in.

Except this one is brighter.

Bright fluorescent lights hum overhead, too white and clinical. Even with your eyes shut, the glare bleeds through your lids, stabbing at your pupils.

Every nerve in your body is lit up with pain, every inch of you aches and throbs.

“I’m starting to think you like being under me. Is that it?”

His taunting voice comes from somewhere above you.

“Just fucking kill me already, will you?” you grumble, words muffled against the ground.

“Hmm… I don’t know.”

The pressure of his boot lifts from your skull—only to be replaced by his knee, driven mercilessly into the small of your back.

You're pinned, caged.

“I kinda like seeing you like this,” he murmurs, voice dipping with lazy amusement. “Helpless. Right where I want you. So many things I could do with you…”

You can’t see him, but the smugness in his tone tells you everything. That fucking smirk is absolutely there.

Your laugh comes sharp and bitter. “God, you’re disgusting.”

“Oh, I must be,” he replies easily, “if even a bloodsucker’s saying it.”

You just scoff.

He leans in close, voice dropping to something low and velvety. “Can’t wait to spend some quality time with you…”

And then something hard cracks into your temple, with a sickening crunch followed by a split second of agony, before your vision tilts again and once more everything goes black.

You figure it’s been a few days at least, by the time you wake up. No human would survive the type of brain damage he no doubt inflicted on you when he literally split your skull open.

But you’re not a human, you’re a vampire — albeit something like that is still a serious enough injury that instead of seconds or minutes, it takes days for your body to repair the delicate tissues of your brain.

You’re still a bit dizzy and disoriented as you blink, clearing the fog from your mind while assessing your environment.

It’s a cellar or basement of some sort. A dim bulb flickers at the other end, on the verge of giving out.

The second thing you notice is something on your face — tight leather straps digging into your skin, a cage or barrier of some kind bound over your mouth.

The bastard fucking muzzled you.

Immediately you scream his name in rage — or at least you try to, though the metal cage distorts your sounds and all you produce is, “Hh-kuh-na!”

You try to move but your arms are still bound tightly behind you, aching from the position they’ve been kept in for so long, The cuffs are not silver, you note.

But the shackle around your ankle? That one is — and you quickly learn that when you try to unfold your legs, the metal digging into your skin and burning.

Soon enough you hear a door open and the sound of heavy footsteps.

“Finally awake? Thought I hit you too hard for a second.”

Your snarl of his name is once again muffled, but the scathing hatred in your eyes speaks volumes.

Sukuna steps in, closing the door behind him before crouching down with his hands on his knees, to be at your face level.

“Hmm, what was that?” he coos. “Try again. Really put your heart into it.”

You’re already feeling on edge, restless and tired at the same time, but then you smell it—

The sharp metallic scent of blood.

Just a little, but enough for your eyes to dilate and your body to scream at you, reminding you that you’re hungry.

Three days of intense healing, and no blood.

But you force yourself to sit still, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you struggle.

“When I get out here….” Your voice is hoarse, but venomous all the same. “I will kill you.”

“Hah,” he snorts. “Bold statement for someone who can’t even stand up.”

He crouches fully now, getting dangerously close. You jerk back instinctively but the sharp bite of the silver shackle digging into your ankle makes you grit your teeth in pain, reminding you why that’s a mistake.

Sukuna watches, single eye gleaming before he leans in further, fingers grazing along the leather strap securing the muscle.

“You look adorable like this.” He pauses, grinning when your eyes narrow further, smoldering with anger. “Almost tame.”

You catch another whiff of it — warm, rich, fresh — and your tongue coats itself in saliva. But you dig your nails into your palms, taking a breath, forcing yourself to stay grounded and shoot him a smirk, speaking slow and sharp.

“Take off this muzzle and you’ll see just how tame I am.”

He just chuckles and with that slight movement you catch the scent of his blood again.

Torture.

You can’t help your eyes from darting around, trying to see where the source is coming from. Sukuna catches your gaze drifting downwards, toward the wrist covered by his sleeve.

“Oh? You’re already looking? Thought you’d last a bit longer.”

And just to rub it in your fucking face he rolls his sleeve up, dangling his cut wrist right in front of your muzzled mouth. The blood drips slowly, deliberately trickling down.

Instinctively your head snaps up, fangs baring as you once again try in a futile effort the lunge forward, and rewarded with the same burning in your skin.

“Fuck. You.”

He leans in, voice dropping to a murmur as you intently track the blood droplets sliding down his skin. “You sure you don’t want any? You look a bit…hungry.”

Your lips widen into a cold sneer behind the metal cage. “I’d rather die of hunger than drink a drop of your filthy, vile blood.”

He stares at you for a moment, before calmly sighing and standing up to leave again. “Better get comfortable, then. This might take a while.”

And once again you’re left in the dark, with nothing but hunger gnawing at your insides.

The cruel irony of it all is that yes, you’d much rather die of hunger— but you can’t.

Instead you’ll starve, slowly desiccating till you’re barely conscious, but alive all the same. Forever in a perpetual state of never ending hunger.

There will be no death to release you.

Over the course of the next four days you feel yourself withering — hunger chewing and growling from within you, so cold that it feels like even your bones are chilly.

And tired. So, so tired.

You hear his footsteps from time to time outside the door, vaguely wondering if he’ll open the door. He never does.

By the time he comes back, your limbs are leaden, mind hazy. The hunger is no longer an ache, as it is a roaring void, tearing at you from inside.

You barely flinch when the door creaks open again, head lifting slightly towards the sound, though your body makes no effort to move.

“Still alive? Tough little thing, aren’t you?”

As if you could die even if you wanted to.

You don’t offer any response, not even able to muster enough energy to glare at him. He steps closer, slowly, like he’s approaching a carcass.

“Not much fight left in you now, huh?”

He crouches again, watching you with interest. You’re alive, but barely.

And finally you move — just a small twitch of your fingers, and a sharp inhale like you want to say something, but don’t have the energy to get the words out.

Sukuna doesn’t let up. “Go on. Curse me. Say you’ll kill me again. Give me something.”

Nothing. Even in your weakened state, you have enough pride to not give him that.

If a reaction is what he wants, it’s what he won’t get.

He clicks his tongue in annoyance before tilting his head. “No? Then how about I give you something instead?”

There’s a soft ripping noise, like a band-aid being torn off, when the scent hits you.

Blood.

Your body shudders involuntarily, once again you’re digging your nails into your palms until they’re sure to leave crescent-shaped indents.

And of course, he notices immediately, face lighting up with amusement. “…Oh?”

He holds his wrist up to you again like an offering.

“C’mon. You don’t need to act tough anymore — I know you’re starving.”

Your jaw clenches as you follow the slow trickle of blood, wishing desperately you had it in you to tear your eyes away from the sight. But you follow its unhurried path, entranced, mouth dry.

“Just a sip. All you have to do is say the word.” Sukuna’s voice is low, mocking, trying to worm its way into your skull.

Your breathing quickens. Would one sip really be that bad?…

“I’ll even take the muzzle off.”

That makes you move.

Your eyes flicker to his, sharpening with a spark of resistance despite everything. The spark only lights up further when you see how smug he looks.

“…Go fuck yourself.”

His grin widens, teeth flashing.

“There she is.”

And then, he fucking sits fully, leisurely stretching his legs like this is some pleasant, casual conversation. Like it’s a picnic date at the park or something.

Like he isn’t slowly destroying you from the inside out.

“You should be grateful, you know, that I’m even trying here.” Then he snickers meanly. “A lot of owners don’t bother to go to such lengths for their pets.”

If there was any blood left in your hollow veins, it would be sizzling right now.

You want to lunge at him, tear his throat out, watching him choke on his own blood before bleeding out in the most pathetic manner.

But you barely have the strength to lift your head.

Still, you strain out the words, barely a whisper.

“Don’t want your…filth…on my tongue.”

You feel it for a second, genuine anger sparking in him, before it quickly passes through and he stands up again.

“Fine. Be a stubborn bitch — we’ll see how long you last.”

He turns and walks away, casually calling out over his shoulder right before he shuts the door. “See you in another few days. If you’re still awake, that is.”

The door closes, darkness once again swallowing you whole.

It’s been nearly a full week now, when he comes back one more time.

You deteriorated even more within the span of those few days — body weak and brittle, like a dried leaf waiting to be stepped on. You think you’ve started to go mad because you swear you can smell blood, even when there’s nothing, no one else, in that cold, empty cellar.

Your pride has been warring with need for too long, and one side is losing, slowly but surely.

When the door opens again, you’re too far gone to react even the slightest. Not even a single twitch of your fingers.

Sukuna gives you a mocking sigh. “Damn. You’re really letting yourself go.”

He crouches down in front of you again, slowly, like you might to some injured animal bleeding out in the forest. “What happened to all that fire? All that lovely talk about killing me?”

You want to lift your head, shoot him a glare, spit some nasty words, but your body won’t obey.

The hunger is too much now, inside your bones where your marrow should be, clawing at the caving in walls of the hollow cavity that is supposed to be your stomach.

Sukuna watches closely for any sign of resistance, but there is none.

And then he speaks softly, like he’s indulging a kid. “How about I make this a bit easier for you, hm?”

There’s a cruel amusement under the gentle facade of his voice, lingering underneath like poison.

You barely register the movement — the soft tug of leather straps, and the metal cage loosening, falling away.

Your lips automatically part, but no sound comes out. There’s nothing left for you to say.

Then a quick flash of metal, and the scent invades your nostrils.

Hot, flowing, rich.

Sukuna holds his wrist out, the fresh cut welling with blood in slow, thick, droplets. The most alluring shade of red against his tan skin.

A violent shiver skitters down your spine, and you can feel your fangs involuntarily slipping out.

“Poor thing. You’re barely holding yourself together.” His voice drips in faux sympathy, as he watches you twitch.

His other hand moves, swiping into the cut before he swiftly lifts it to your face, pressing bloodied fingers to your lips and smearing it red.

Everything stops.

One drop, one single drop, makes its way through, onto your parched tongue, and its like fire in your veins.

Your body comes alive that moment, every nerve, every deadened muscle, every ounce of hunger roars awake, all at once, dilating your pupils till your eyes are just black voids.

Another shuddering breath, a twitching in your muscles.

“That’s it,” he whispers, watching, entirely too pleased at your reaction as his wrist hovers, just barely out of reach from your mouth.

Your body moves on it own, pure instinct, and no thought as you lunge forward with a low snarl, right fang sinking in, the broken one following soon enough as you close your mouth, latching on completely to his wrist.

And you drink.

Greedily, messily, obscenely sucking and slurping like a wild animal. The taste of his blood is intoxicating, flooding and reviving your starving flesh, pulling you out of that hollow abyss.

You hate yourself for it, but you can’t stop.

Sukuna watches, letting you feed, with a slow smirk.

“There we go. See? That wasn’t so hard.”

You want to rip yourself away, but his blood is too much, too necessary, too good.

No, not good.

You’ve drank hundreds of men’s blood before, but nothing compares to his.

What an evil, cruel twist of fate that his blood is divine — salty, sharp, with a savory mouthwatering fullness, and the slightest hint of sweetness to compliment it all.

Its like ambrosia.

Your grip tightens, as you practically moan in ecstasy, fangs sinking deeper into his warm flesh — you need more, you need—

Suddenly, he yanks his arm back.

You choke, barely stifling a whimper that almost slips out as the warmth is ripped away. Sukuna looks down at his wrist, amiably inspecting the puncture wounds, before glancing back at you.

Your lips are stained crimson, breathing ragged, eyes still looking at him with that almost desperate need.

And he laughs, victoriously. “That’s my girl.”

The taste him still lingers on your tastebuds, in the air — it’s not nearly enough to quell your appetite.

“Just a little more. Isn’t this what you wanted?” you try to convince him, attempting to hide the need in your voice.

You may be missing a fang but there’s still enough venom in one of your fangs to have at least somewhat of an effect — though you suppose that if he willingly let you drink, he must’ve already taken an antivenom.

Still, you try your luck.

He clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “You should have more shame, being so greedy. You’re lucky I even gave you this much.”

Sukuna stands to his full height again.

Panic rushes through you.

“Fuck, please Sukuna? I’ll give you whatever you want—”

He scoffs coldly. “And what could you possibly have to give me?”

You stare with wide eyes, unable to think of an answer immediately, and soon he’s leaving again, the sticky blood drying on your face.

The door slams closed.

This time, the hunger doesn’t dull away, neither does it weaken you. In fact you think it only grows stronger as the hours pass, keeping you awake and restless and craving.

For hours you sit in that dank cellar, your mind replaying the taste of his blood in your mouth until it becomes all you can think about, a tunnel vision of the only way out.

Giving you that taste was his mistake because now there’s a newfound strength forged from the motivation of sinking your teeth into him again.

Draining him for all he’s worth.

You tug against the metal keeping you captive — the cuffs around your wrists, the silver shackle around your ankle.

But you’ve got blood in you now, and that’s enough. Enough for you to heal.

With the phantom taste of him lingering in your mouth you finally push yourself — there’s sickening cracks of your joints dislocating, but even the blazing pain isn’t enough to deter you. It’s nothing compared to the satisfaction of your limp hands pulling out of the cuffs, one step closer to getting what’s yours.

Now, the hard part.

You squeeze your eyes shut, taking another deep breath as you position yourself. The silver cuff is still blistering hot against your skin, but you don’t hesitate.

Not now, not when you can practically taste him sweet and raw in your throat.

You twist. Hard.

The first crack isn’t enough — you grit your teeth, let out a strangled cry that echoes in the cellar, and then do it again.

The world goes white for a second, as you gasp, vision blurring from the sheer, excruciating pain — and still, you don’t stop.

Because now you’re not some starving creature crawling in the dark.

You’re a predator, one that he gave just enough of his blood to remember what that feels like.

Pop. The joint gives way.

You scream through gritted teeth, bile burning up the back of your throat, but you don’t stop. You slam your foot against the ground again, and again, twisting until the bones slide just enough — just enough for the slick burn of metal to scrape over torn skin.

And then you’re free.

You collapse against the floor, gasping, sweat-soaked and trembling, your limbs mangled but already knitting together, muscle by muscle, tendon by tendon, driven by that stolen taste of him inside you.

You stagger to your feet, every movement agonizing, shaky, but determined.

You can still feel him. His pulse. His scent. That infuriating grin of his when he left you here like some half-starved mongrel.

It’s insulting almost, that when you reach the cellar door, it’s unlocked.

But it makes your job easier, so you don’t complain.

You creak it open, and instantly the scent of his skin hits your nose though he’s nowhere in sight.

So you follow it, tunnel visioned on the prospect of finding him and just sinking your teeth into him.

Driven by vengeance, craving, maybe even some fucked up part of you that think his blood belongs to you now.

You can barely think straight by the time you’re pushing open his door, your mind tunneled in on one thing alone- the promise of his blood, hot and pulsing, spilling down your throat.

The embalmer’s job will be easier when they find his body — pale, empty, and drained dry.

You peek inside.

Warm light spills from the open bathroom door, casting a golden sheen across the contours of his bare back. He’s facing away from you, wearing nothing but low-slung black sweats that cling to his hips like a sin.

Droplets still bead along his skin, glinting on muscle, his pink hair darkened and slick from a recent shower.

If you weren’t so ravenous — if you saw anything other than a cure to the ache gnawing through your chest — you might’ve paused. Might’ve taken in the sight of him and thought, briefly, cruelly…

Beautiful.

But right now, nothing exists beyond the hypnotic thrum of his heartbeat, a slow and steady beacon that tugs you forward, that dares you closer.

You linger behind the door, silent, calculating. Waiting for him to move — to shift, to turn, to slip into just the right position.

One clean strike. That’s all you need.

No games. No snarling, clawing mess like the last time.

Just blood.

But then, there’s a subtle shift in the air, and the slightest stiffening of his spine.

Your stomach drops.

He shouldn’t know you’re here. It’s not possible — not for a human, not against your kind. You were made to hunt in silence, to kill before the prey ever knows what touched them.

Still, you don’t falter and he doesn’t turn.

And then—he moves. Slowly, casually.

He sits at the edge of the bed, back still to you, elbows resting on his thighs.

Exposed and vulnerable.

Perfect.

Just as you’re getting ready to pounce, Sukuna completely throws you off base—by pure, stupid luck.

He leans back onto one hand, legs spreading ever so slightly, just enough for the faint shape forming beneath his sweats to catch your eye. His other hand moves lower, casually palming himself through the fabric.

You should move. You know you should.

But something invisible roots you in place. Your hunger simmers beneath your skin, thrumming like static, but your bloodthirsty gaze is locked—utterly transfixed—on him. On the slow, almost lazy drag of his hand over the swelling bulge, coaxing it with idle strokes.

Your body betrays you.

There’s a strange heat building inside you, crawling up your spine, prickling across your skin. It shouldn’t be there. Not when you’re here to feed. Not when your only goal is to strike clean and fast and end this.

But it’s him.

Your breathing falters when his eyelids lower, chin tilting back just slightly as a quiet exhale leaves his parted lips. The light catches on the water still clinging to his shoulders, muscles shifting beneath his skin with every languid movement.

Through the fabric, the outline of his cock becomes more prominent. You can see the shape of it now, the thickness, even from where you stand.

Sukuna tightens his grip, and that’s when you catch it—the faint, almost acrid scent in the air. Slightly metallic. Slightly alkaline.

You suck in a silent breath, stomach flipping when you realize what you’re smelling.

Then he starts to rut slowly into his hand, sighing as the friction builds, and his voice cuts through the stillness, casual but low with strain.

“If you’re gonna do it, do it. Or are you too…” A cruel little grin curves his mouth. “Distracted, now?”

You don’t give him the satisfaction of a response.

You’re on him in an instant—before the last syllable even finishes, slamming your full weight into him. The bed creaks under the force as you straddle him, one hand fisting into his damp hair, the other clawing his shoulder, nails digging in deep enough to make him hiss through his teeth.

“Don’t fuck with me, Sukuna,” you growl, pupils dilated, lips curled in a snarl. His heartbeat is a war drum beneath your hands, loud and intoxicating, and every one of your senses is alive with it—drunk on it.

His grin only sharpens.

“Then stop staring like you wanna fuck me and kill me, sweetheart. Pick one.”

To your irritation, you don’t even have to yank his head back—he tilts it on his own, baring his throat with an infuriatingly smug laugh. A mocking little motion, like he’s offering himself up on purpose.

“That’s more like it,” he murmurs.

And then your fangs sink in.

A soft, distinct crunch as teeth break through muscle and vein.

The instant his skin gives, blood rushes into your mouth—and it’s intoxicating. Thicker, hotter than anything else you’ve ever tasted. Rich and pulsing with life. Almost scalding.

The puncture wounds tighten slightly around your fangs, muscles resisting before stretching open, your jaw clenching as you bury deep—even your cracked fang pushing in with a sharp throb.

His blood is... pure. Potent.

Undiluted, unlike the thin, lifeless taste of most human blood. It tastes like something alive.

Like power, like violence.

The absence of that sharp medicinal tang—no trace of the antivenom you expected—flickers across your thoughts.

But the moment passes. Irrelevant.

Your body’s already screaming for more.

You drink greedily, copper heat washing down your throat, his pulse drumming against your lips. Your grip tightens.

Sukuna doesn’t flinch.

You suck harder, lips sealing tighter over the wound with a wet, obscene sound. Blood flows freely now. Your body trembles, senses blown wide open, muscles twitching as strength floods into you—but even as it does, something gnaws at you.

It still isn’t enough.

There’s a maddening itch, deep under your skin, pulsing low in your gut. A hunger that persists no matter how much you drink.

A raw, aching need that grows stronger, fiercer.

You notice everything.

His heartbeat skipping slightly under your mouth, the way your thighs grip his hips tighter, almost involuntarily. The rake of your nails down his back, searching for purchase, something to ground you.

You drink, and drink, and drink—and yet, the ache won’t go away.

Sukuna notices, of course. His eyes heavy-lidded, dark with knowing amusement, watching as you fall apart in real time, the tremble in your thighs, the desperation in the way you hold him.

He shifts beneath you—just slightly—but it’s enough. Enough for you to feel the hard outline of his arousal pressing right against your core.

And still—not enough.

“You feel it, don’t you?” Sukuna’s voice is low, almost gentle. But there’s that ever-present curl of amusement beneath it. “You’re still hungry.”

You growl against his neck, fangs still sunk deep, refusing to acknowledge whatever smug bullshit he’s whispering now.

His skin burns under your lips. His body is flush against yours, scent heavy in your nose with every inhale—clean, musky, tinged with something spicy and masculine.

It makes him taste even better somehow—complementing the copper tang in your mouth like wine pairing with a rich meal. You have to smell him to taste him fully.

The most disturbing part isn’t the blood. It’s that he’s letting you take it. Letting you drink him dry, take as much as you want.

And if your mind were clearer—sharper—you’d be suspicious. Hell, you’d be insulted.

You tremble.

Because despite the feast, despite the rush of strength, the power flooding your veins like molten heat—you’re still not satisfied.

The hunger claws deeper.

And the awful, rising truth starts to sink in, that maybe it’s not just his blood you crave.

Maybe you’re starving for something else entirely.

Sukuna’s hand moves—slowly, deliberately—dragging rough fingertips across your scalp. He threads them through your hair, the pressure grounding, possessive. His fingers massage along your roots, a slow, sensual gesture that sends an involuntary shiver down your spine.

The other hand slides up your hip, ghosting along your side before settling at the small of your back, easing you down closer, pressing you into him—

That’s when it hits you.

You snap back, instinct lashing out. You tear your mouth away, blood slick on your lips, and shove at his chest hard enough to make him grunt as you push yourself back.

Your breath comes quick. Your head swims. Your mouth tastes like heat and iron and him.

The hand tangled in your hair slips away, settling instead at your waist—not stopping you, but not letting you go either. Possessive and anchoring.

His neck is still bleeding, slow trickles slipping down the curve of his throat, the skin around the puncture turning a deep shade of red-purple, bruised and tender.

You’re not sure what you feel.

Dazed. Disoriented. Blood-drunk.

Angry. Irritated. Frustrated.

Warm.

Too warm.

Sukuna grins up at you, lazy and smug, his eye catching the light just enough to glint with something unreadable.

“Ahh, there it is,” he hums, like he’s been waiting. “Now you get it.”

You fight the urge to recoil—to put space between your bodies—even as the haze lingers, even as your mind reels, trying to make sense of what the hell is happening to you.

“What the fuck did you do to me?” you breathe, your voice hoarse and thin, raw from drinking. Your lips are still slick with his blood. “I should kill you.”

And you mean it. You’ve done it before—taken blood from men, used sex like bait, like a weapon, left them cold and emptied by the time you were done. It never mattered, never lingered.

But this—this is something else entirely.

You try again to pull away, to snap the illusion, but this time his grip tightens. Not roughly, not harsh—but firm. Deliberate. He’s not fazed in the slightest by the open wound on his neck or the fresh blood on your mouth.

“Go ahead,” he murmurs, voice low, almost affectionate. “Then you’ll keep starving. Just like you are right now…”

His fingers drift lower, dragging over your waist, brushing the tops of your thighs. Teasing. Knowing.

Your head spins.

“Just shut up,” you snap, though the words come out thin, like you’re already losing ground.

You fed long enough that the venom should be kicking in by now. But it isn’t.

Maybe he’s built up a resistance—modified something in his blood. It wouldn’t be out of character for a hunter like him, someone who turns his own body into a weapon.

“Mm.” His fingers inch higher along your thigh, nails grazing over the fabric in a light, scraping touch that sends a sharp jolt through your nerves. “You don’t even know what you’re hungry for, do you?”

You grit your teeth, refusing to rise to the bait.

“It’s... not whatever the fuck you think it is,” you mutter, jaw tight. “You must’ve laced your blood or something—”

You’re trying to rationalize it. Trying to explain away the curl of heat low in your belly, the way your skin burns where he touches you.

His chuckle is low and cruel.

“Didn’t have to.” His voice dips to a taunt. “You gorged yourself on my blood after I left you starved for days—like a filthy, mindless little animal.”

His hand slides higher, creeping toward the center of you, and you shoot him a glare sharp enough to cut.

But you still don’t move.

“Tell me something I don’t kn—”

“Shut up.”

His voice slices through yours, dark and final. His grip tightens on your thigh—fingers digging into flesh—not playful anymore.

“If I wanted to hear you run your mouth, I’d fucking ask.”

Your lip twitches. Your eyes narrow into a venomous slit. But you don’t interrupt.

Not yet.

“That blood you drowned in?” he murmurs, tilting his head like he’s about to deliver a punchline. “It flooded your veins. Your muscles. Your heart…”

His smirk deepens, a slow cruel carving across his face.

“But when all your precious organs had their fill—guess where the rest ended up?”

“Right—” His hand fully cups your clothed sex now, before pressing into your clit with the tips of his fingers. “Here.”

You gasp at the sudden pressure against that sensitive bundle of nerves—electricity crackling up your spine.

All at once, you’re excruciatingly aware of every ache in your body, most of all the one blooming between your thighs—tight, pulsing, centered on that single point he’s still pressing down on with cruel precision.

“Pathetic,” he mutters, almost bored. “How long’s it been since you felt this? Since you actually needed?” His scoff is pure venom. “What, years? Bet your body just gave up going into heat altogether—until now.”

That’s what finally snaps the last thread of your restraint.

Your eyes darken, and a vicious smile cuts across your face like a blade. Bitterness burns like acid on your tongue, venom sharpening every syllable.

“Look at you,” you sneer, voice laced with poison. “You talk like I’m some starving beast—but what does that make you?”

Your tone drops, cruel now, twisted to mirror his own.

“A man so desperate for control he gets hard watching a half-dead monster squirm on his lap?”

You laugh—cold, guttural, mean.

“That’s pathetic.”

His expression shifts. Something twists behind his eyes. The lazy smirk vanishes, replaced by a deep crease between his brows—his crimson iris shrinking to a pinprick of rage.

You only lean in closer, fueled by the spark of danger.

“Tell me,” you whisper, voice thick with mockery, lips brushing his. “Did it make you feel powerful, starving me like that? Watching me suffer, weaken, beg?”

You grind your hips deliberately into his hand—now limp and fallen to your side—mocking him with your body, even as it betrays you with heat.

You tilt your head, lashes fluttering.

“Or did it just turn you the fuck on?”

His fingers twitch under your thigh.

“I think I hit a nerve.”

And then—just to twist the knife—you drop your voice to a whisper, every syllable soaked in contempt.

“…Maybe you wanted to see me like this. Needy. Weak. Because deep down, you know it’s the only time I’d ever want you—”

It happens fast.

Sukuna lunges.

But you’re already moving, twisting away—only for him to anticipate it, catching your wrist mid-swipe as you aim for his throat.

You snarl, feral, baring your fangs as you twist and struggle—but he’s stronger.

Of course he is. Vampire or not, you’re still a woman. And he’s a man carved from violence and dominance.

He wrenches your arm behind your back and yanks you in, spine arching painfully as he traps you against him. You snap toward his shoulder—teeth meeting only air as he shifts—and then—

His hand clamps the back of your neck, shoving you down hard into the mattress.

You buck, claw, writhe—but his weight pins you mercilessly.

“Fuck—get the hell off me!” you spit, claws tearing at the sheets.

But Sukuna only laughs. A low, rich sound that rumbles against your spine.

“Why?” he whispers, his breath ghosting hot along your ear. “Scared?”

You growl and slam your elbow back, desperate—

And then you feel it.

A sharp kiss at your throat—cold. Burning. Paralyzing.

Silver.

It must’ve been hidden beneath the bedding—because of course the bastard would sleep with a knife under his pillow.

Your breath catches as the blade’s tip glides across your skin in a slow, almost tender caress. Even that featherlight touch bites sharply against your hypersensitive nerves, lighting them up like fire.

Sukuna hums, clearly entertained. “Thought so.”

His grip in your hair tightens painfully, yanking your head back until your throat is exposed, vulnerable.

“You know what’s funny?” His voice is low, almost musing, edged with cruel amusement. “For all your mouth. All your fucking posturing—”

He presses the flat of the silver blade just beneath your jaw, and the threat of it steals the breath from your lungs.

“—you still end up right here.”

Your breath trembles, a furious mix of rage and something deeper, darker, coiling low in your stomach. Something instinctual and shamefully real.

The knife tilts ever so slightly—just enough for the point to kiss your skin, teasing the possibility of a cut.

You don’t dare move.

“That’s right,” he murmurs, satisfied. “Hold still.”

Your fingers twitch. You could fight—should fight. But the weight of him above you, the glint of silver at your throat... you’re pinned. And you both know it.

The edge of the blade shifts—and this time, it bites. A shallow line, but enough for crimson to bloom and trail slowly down your throat.

You grit your teeth, jaw locked tight, forcing yourself not to flinch.

But he feels it. The way your body tenses beneath him. And it thrills him.

“Not so tough now, are you?”

The blade drags lower, agonizingly slow, skimming the line of your throat, across your collarbone, down your sternum. It sings along your skin, a thread of fire in its wake.

“Nothing but a weak, pathetic, blood-drunk little leech.”

You snarl—but it sounds broken. Frayed and fragile.

Sukuna clicks his tongue, mockingly. “Still got fight in you?”

And then—without warning—he flips the blade, and drags the edge down your chest, slicing through both fabric and skin in one fluid stroke.

Down, down, down—until your shirt splits beneath the pressure. The cold rush of air hitting your exposed skin only amplifies the heat.

You suck in a breath, jaw clenched as the knife cuts a shallow path across your sternum, not deep, but just enough to sting.

“Fucking pervert,” you mutter hoarsely, your voice barely holding together.

He doesn’t reply.

He just keeps going—dragging the knife horizontally now, the blade peeling the torn fabric away from your chest, slow and deliberate. It climbs, tracing up the valley between your breasts like he’s unwrapping a present—leisurely, merciless, fascinated.

A searing line is traced up the swell of one of your tits, and you put all your focus into keeping your breath steady, because the slightest inhale only pushes the delicate mound of fat further against the burning blade.

You stiffen completely when the tattered top is pulled away completely, air brushing against your nipple.

Sukuna watches it harden further with fascination, a cruel smirk curling his lips. “Oh?”

Because he notices everything, to your humiliation. You shiver, despising how your body reacts despite everything.

Hate how much he enjoys it.

“You like this, don’t you?” His tone is taunting, disgusted, but there’s a cruel entertainment beneath it.

You can’t say anything, much more focused on the sharp silver that’s much too close to your areola for comfort. Then with the slightest shift of his wrist the blade moves, the tip of it scraping against the sensitive bud.

You inhale sharply, body reflexively jerking against him as the prickling lances through your chest.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” he chides, circling the blade delicately around your breast before continuing downwards.

“Go to hell,” you spit, voice thick with both vitriol and bitter lust.

The knife descends, running over the curve of your ribs, the delicate dip of your stomach, leaving a trail of burning goosebumps in its wake.

“I’d drag you down with me.”

Another shudder as the blade presses lower, a lump forming in your throat. Another jolt of pain and there’s a shallow cut right below your navel.

Blood wells, reminding you of his control.

His free hand slides up your thigh, just enough to make you hyper-aware of how helpless you are.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you whisper, trying not to audibly pant.

Sukuna just chuckles, running the flat of the blade over the cut, smearing your own blood across your skin.

He watches as you try to shrink away, eyes glinting, before his grip tightens, forcing your hips to still.

“Say it.” His voice is quieter now, something that frays your nerves further.

Your heart pounds. “Say what?”

The blade presses lower, and you feel cold fear beginning to surge through your veins.

“Say you need me.” His nose is in hollow beneath your jaw now, brushing against the skin, as the words crawl down your spine like icy.

“Say you want me.” The tip of the blade drags lower, slipping just beneath the hem of your waistband—dangerously close to something far more intimate.

“Or I’ll carve the truth out of you myself.”

And though you throb between your thighs, your mind is wracked with a new wave of anxiety.

Yet still your pride, your stubborn ego refuses to force the words out of your mouth, so you keep silent, choking on them.

Sukuna just sighs and pushes the metal into your panties.

All thoughts of defiance are exorcised from you as the silver brushes against the vulnerable, soft flesh of your folds, down till it nearly touches your clit.

You yelp at the pain. “S-Stop!”

Partially because it fucking stings, but partially because for a second that jolt of burning heat almost felt…good.

Curse your pathetic, needy cunt that can’t tell the difference between pain and pleasure.

And it only reminds you of the hollow, aching hunger that grows in you. Sukuna, watching you so closely, knows it too.

You break.

“…I need you,” you breathe.

The bastard presses the blade against your sex again and you wince, desperately trying to jerk your hips away. “Louder.”

So finally, you spit through clenched teeth, “I need you.”

The moment the words leave your lips — strained, humiliated, dragged from the deepest part of your throat — Sukuna stills.

Then he laughs, finally pulling the blade back out from your thighs, giving your body a second to relax. Still the sting of silver, the heat of your blood — it lingers.

And the worst part, is that you feel colder without it. You can’t ignore the arousal that’s pooled in your panties, so much so that it feels uncomfortable.

“That’s what I thought.” His voice drips with smug victory. “All that fight, all that snarling, all those ugly words — and look at you now.” The blade presses under your chin, forcing your head to tilt up and look directly into his face. “Whimpering out the truth like a good little leech.”

You want to say something , anything, but the opportunity is stolen from you when you feel his other hand, fingers dragging through the blood seeping from the wound below your navel. The pressure is deliberate, just enough to make it hurt, to remind you of what he’s done to you.

“You’re making such a mess,” he muses, voiced soaked in condescension. “Bleeding all over yourself. Over me.” His fingers travel lower, slow and purposeful as they slide into your panties, where the heat is unbearable. “Dumb little thing.”

He smears it on your clit, using the tacky liquid as lube to rub tight aggressive circles on the swollen nub.

You gasp, lips falling open as the relief lights you up from inside. His other hand keeps the blade pressed under your chin, forcing you to meet his eye so he can watch as you try to keep your own gaze focused.

“You’re lucky I’m merciful,” he purrs, before taking two fingers and abruptly pinching your abused clit to elicit a wince from you. “Go on, leech. Say thank you.”

“…Thank you,” you say quietly, nothing on your mind except his touch where you’ve been needing it most.

He smiles, and then without warning, the sensations stop as he pulls his fingers away.

His weight disappears, leaving an unbearable cold where his warmth once was, in more places than one.

“Now get the fuck off my bed.”

You watch him, blinking in confusion, brows furrowing as desperation clouds your judgement. “Wh-Why? You can’t—”

“Dirty leeches get to stay on the ground where they belong,” he says coldly, clearly trying to suppress a grin.

You stare at him, body thrumming with unfulfilled need, like a wound he only ripped open even wider. Your fingers dig into the sheet, pride once against warring against pulsing ache between your thighs, cool skin burning with need and making your head spin.

You feel like you have a fever.

God, what the hell did his blood do to you?

“…You’re fucking joking.” Your voice wavers, but it’s not weakness — it’s rage. Humiliation.

Sukuna only tilts his head, regarding you like a roach he’s already crushed beneath his heel but is still alive for some reason.

“You think I’d let you defile my bed? After you whined like a bitch in heat just for me to touch you?” he scoffs. “Have some dignity, leech.”

Your breath turns sharp. Hot. Your body betrays you, trembling ever so slightly. The shame burns worse than silver, spreading all over you.

“You’re fucking sick.”

“And you love it.”

You hate that he’s right.

You grit your teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response as you force yourself to move, dragging your shaky limbs off the bed, only to collapse onto the cold, hard floor.

You hear his quiet chuckle before he walks to the edge of the bed, sitting back down beside where you’re on the ground.

Then—

“But I’m not evil. It’s clear you can’t even think straight with the condition you’re in.” He leans down, cupping your chin to look into your glaring eyes, swimming with desire. “Though I can’t help you if you keep your pants on, can I?”

You frown a bit, not the slightest clue where this is going, but the gentleness in his touch and the promise of his words coaxes your heat-addled brain to tug at the waist of your pants, pulling them off to leave you in just your panties.

You look back up at him expectantly.

“Good girl,” he says almost affectionately, and you feel yourself wetten further in anticipation. “But, a leech like you doesn’t deserve my fingers, let alone my cock or tongue.”

Just like that your heart sinks in your chest, into the pit in your stomach as something wicked creeps across his features.

“You’re worth nothing more than my—” His bare foot shifts between your legs, tattooed ankle lifting up between your thighs, applying pressure there. “Feet.”

Your eyes widen, cheeks heating up till it almost hurts as you open your mouth to protest, save yourself the last bit of your dignity.

“N-No.” Your voice shakes just a little despite your efforts, mouth pulling into a pout as tears sting your lash line.

Sukuna hums, a condescending little sound that makes your skin crawl with equal parts shame and heat. His foot presses in just a little more, sending a pulse of sensation through your body that makes you shudder violently.

“No?” he mocks, tilting his head. “Oh, but look at you, leech. Dripping—” he shifts slightly, grinding against the soaked fabric of your underwear, and you choke on a breath, “—like the desperate little parasite you are.”

You look down, suddenly noting that he strangely…actually has nice feet. Long, prominent bones, veins running their length. They’re a lot like his hands.

And somehow the fact that you can actually see the appeal only sickens you more.

You shake your head, trying to summon what’s left of your pride, but the second you do, his foot pushes, forcing a gasp from your lips.

His grin sharpens. “You can’t even pretend to hate it.”

You squeeze your thighs together instinctively, but the movement only traps him there, pressing deeper against you. Your breath stutters, shame and pleasure warring violently inside you.

Then he laughs, shaking his head like he’s watching something pathetic try and fail to crawl away.

“Go on then,” he taunts. “Show me just how low you’ll go. If you want it so bad, you can grind against my foot like the filthy little leech you are.”

Your heart slams against your ribs. “I—I won’t—”

He lifts it away just slightly, just enough to take away the friction, the heat, the pleasure that had you teetering on the edge. The loss is unbearable, your body screaming in protest.

And he sees it. He knows.

His smirk is pure, unfiltered cruelty.

“Oh?” he coos, feigning innocence. “Then I guess you don’t need my help after all.”

He moves to pull away entirely—

And before you can stop yourself, your hips jerk forward, chasing the friction, the pleasure, the relief—

He catches it instantly.

He freezes, pressing back in an instant, and your stomach drops as you realize what you’ve done.

His smirk turns razor-sharp, eyes gleaming with victory.

“That’s what I thought.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, resting your forehead on his knee, chewing on your lip.

You want this. You know it, and he knows it.

So with a shaky breath you lift yourself to quickly slide off your panties, kicking them to the side. “You’re disgusting,” you mutter, a half-hearted attempt to somehow deflect the degrading nature of what you’re willingly choosing to do right now.

He hums, looking down at you over the bridge of his nose with that unbearable smirk as you straddle his foot again. “Hm. Do tell me more.”

You can’t stand looking at his face right now, so you turn your head, leaning your cheek against his sturdy leg instead as you push your hips down, pressing your soaking cunt onto his foot.

It feels horribly good, and slowly you begin to undulate your hips back and forth, seeking the friction of the ridged metatarsals and tendons on his foot catching against your clit.

Back and forth, back and forth.

Sukuna snickers, watching you with interest, at the soft gasps falling from your lips. “If only your ancestors could see you now. How far your bloodline has fallen.”

You scowl a bit, speeding up your movements so that the pleasure can drown out his words and the soft clicking noises of your pussy. “Just….s-stop talking. Please.”

“Why? It was a compliment.” Sukuna lifts his leg again, angling his foot a little to move it in time with your grinding, pulling a soft moan from you. “I, for one, think you look good like this. Like you’re finally where you belong, y’know?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to ignore him as you lean back on your hands, this new angle making it easier for you to rub your clit against him.

For a few seconds he doesn’t say anything either, even as your movements start growing more frantic. You open your eyes to look at him, just to find his eyes trained squarely on where your sticky cunt is sliding obscenely along his foot, his skin glistening with your arousal.

And it’s the fact that he looks painfully aroused himself, that he’s not quite as unaffected as he’s been pretending to be…

The sight makes you cum abruptly with a choked cry, hips thrusting faster and faster as your orgasm shoots up through your spine, the wet sounds growing noisier, as your pussy twitches and leaks an embarrassing amount of slick.

Your movements slow, as your orgasm finishes, leaving you to close your eyes again and catch your breath. Sukuna removes his foot, looking looking down at you and the juices that coat it.

“Eugh. God look what a mess you made.” Then he smirks deviously, gaze shifting to your mortified form, still reeling from your orgasm as you sit back. “I should make you clean your filth with your tongue.”

Your eyes widen to shoot him a look, already shaking your head when he laughs.

“Don’t worry. You should be grateful I’m not that sick.”

You don’t reply, just looking at him quietly, growing more and more aware by the second that your clitoral orgasm provided temporary reprieve just to heighten that horrible ache inside of you. Yet before you can even open your mouth to voice your concerns, he’s standing up.

“Where…are you going? That’s it??”

Sukuna stops in the doorway, shoulders loose, head tilted, and for a second—just a second—you think he might change his mind. Might turn around and give you something.

But then he snorts, sharp and derisive, slicing straight through your chest.

“Jesus,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Listen to yourself.”

He glances over his shoulder, and the look in his eyes is nasty—not the usual smug amusement, not even condescension. Just pure, unfiltered disgust.

“You’re still fucking dripping, aren’t you?” His lips curl in a sneer. “I already fed you, you don’t expect me to fuck you too, do you?” He laughs, slow and cruel. “God, you really have no fucking shame.”

Your face burns, humiliation crashing into you, but you refuse to let it show. You square your shoulders, jaw tightening. “You’re the one who—”

“You what? Made you?” His grin widens, something wicked in it. “Oh, come on, leech. Don’t be fucking pathetic. You were already soaking before I even touched you. You should be grateful I even let you rub yourself off on me like a stupid little parasite.”

He laughs again, shaking his head. His tone turns mocking, singsong. “Poor thing, all hot and needy, and still so fucking empty.”

Your nails dig into your palms. You hate him. You hate how much you want to hurt him. How much you want him to hurt you.

But most of all, you hate how easily he thinks he can win.

So you lift your head, tongue curling around something venomous. “Guess that makes two of us, huh?” you sneer.

Sukuna’s expression flickers—just a flicker—but you catch it. And it feeds you.

You hum, tilting your head, letting your gaze drop deliberately down his body before dragging it back up, slow, like you’re assessing him. “Or what, was that little act supposed to convince me you don’t want it just as bad?” You scoff, eyes glinting with something sharp and mean. “Please. You’re the one who gets hard over starving me out.”

His jaw tightens. Just a twitch. A flex of muscle. But you know him well enough to see it for what it is—annoyance.

Good.

“You act like you’re above it,” you murmur, voice like silk laced with barbed wire. “Like you don’t need it.” You shift, slowly stretching out your legs, like you aren’t still burning between them. “But I felt you, Sukuna.” Your voice dips, taunting. “I smelled you.”

His fingers twitch at his sides. You watch it, the way they flex—like he’s already imagining wrapping them around your throat.

But you’re not done.

“You like this just as much as I do.” Your smile sharpens. “No—probably more.”

A slow blink, a long inhale and then Sukuna’s lips curl again, his expression smoothing into something infuriatingly condescending.

“That’s cute,” he drawls. “Really. But let’s get one thing fucking straight—”

He moves before you can react, crouching down in front of you, one strong hand gripping your jaw. Hard. Forcing you to look at him.

“I could ruin you.” His voice is low, deadly. “Make you beg until your fucking throat is raw. And I still wouldn’t let you have it.”

His thumb brushes your bottom lip, a mockery of something tender.

“Because you don’t deserve it.”

Then, just as quickly, he shoves your face to the side.

“Oh, and—” He swipes his fingers through the mess between your thighs, then flicks it at you with a lazy smirk. “Clean yourself up,” he mutters, before sticking his fingers into his mouth and licking them clean of your arousal.

You don’t flinch, don’t let him see the way your breath shudders.

You just lift your chin, eyes locked onto his, and smile sweetly.

“Don’t forget to clean yourself up too,” you purr. “Can’t have you walking around smelling like me.”

He snarls—a real, actual snarl—but you only grin wider.

And then, with a final glare, he turns, disappearing into the bathroom.

Leaving you alone and aching.

^divider by kazicide

142 notes · View notes

lokissweater · 5 months ago

Text

a good man

{bodyguard!kento nanami x rich girl f!reader}

summary: kento nanami has been your appointed bodyguard since the age of nineteen. his poised, calm, respectable mannerisms having you falling to your knees over him as he was completely different than any of the other boys in your life… for he was a man— taking care of your rowdy party girl behaviors and guiding you with the best advice and judgement he could possibly muster, and you loved him, gutted over the fact that he possibly only thought of you as a spoiled little brat who was useless and incompetent, as a client, and you wanting to be more than just that to him… except you were. for kento had already fallen over his knees for you.

warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, BRATTY AFFF RICH GIRL SPOILED READER she’s a little baddie o yes, LOWKEEEYYY brat tamer kento MEEOOOWWW, FLUUFFF GALLOOREE!!, slight angst!!, kento is SOOO SOOFTTT AND A LIL GENTLEMAANN, blowjob YUM, oral m receiving, mentions of doing the sex, deep throating, SEDUCTIVE AF READER BRO, cursing, mentions of alcohol and drinking, sexual themes, kento is older than reader by three years, mentions of reader having ‘pink cheeks’ is only to amplify and over-exaggerate feelings of embarrassment, shyness, and everything in between, and not to be taken literally! this is a work of fiction, and you can imagine many things for yourself :)

word count: 20.3k (i yap i fear)

authors note: I NEED A FUCKING MAN !!!! LIKE KENTO !!! RAAAAHDVSJSBSJSJ this BEAUTIFUL precious concept was a blend and mixy of multiple requests i got for sir nanami blended into one!! :,)) i hope i did you guys justice to those who requested and sent in ideas my loves !!! <3333 AND I HOPE YOU ALL LOVE ITTT JUST AS MUCH AS I DOOO AAHHH !!! I LOVE YOU ALL SO SO SO SOOO MUCHHH MWAAHHH !! <3333

“please don’t do that.”

you were undoubtedly the most defiant, stubborn girl kento had ever met.

“and why not?” you pouted. “it’s just for a little bit… and i can’t leave my friend hanging when she’s dealing with such a crisis! she needs my help.”

“your help.” kento repeated. “she needs your help going to a party…. at one in the morning.”

“it’s not a party it’s a small gathering—”

“y/n the hour is ungodly right now…” he sighed, rubbing his forehead. “i don’t believe this is very wise.”

you finished applying your blush and stepped back from your large vanity, quickly placing your brush back in it’s holder and grabbing your bottle of perfume, spritzing it.

“it’s fine ken!” you looked up and smiled. “i’ll just be gone for a little while i’ll be back before—”

“i’m sorry—” he held a palm up. “you’ll just be gone? darling, you realize i have to go with you.”

“but whyyy?” you mumbled, slouching dramatically and chucking your perfume bottle on your bed. “two hours! just give me two hours i promise i’ll be back—”

“i’m afraid not.”

“whyyyy!” you whined again, and kento only looked at you with a straight stoic face.

“because it’s my job to go with you and you know that.”

and you’d always been defiant and stubborn, kento having known you since you were a little girl as both his and your father were family friends for years, your upbringing a little different from his as your father was exponentially wealthy and owned various companies and properties, his parents just so happening to work for him and gain special bonds and camaraderie over the time of your growing lives.

though kento was only three years older than you— the gap nothing notable or too drastic, it sure as hell felt like it with how bratty and rebellious you were sometimes on a day to day basis that he had to bare witness of since the age of fourteen.

so why kento thought of you so much when you were the epitome of a spoiled princess… was a little unclear to him.

or maybe he did know exactly why— the reasoning transparently clear, to a fucking T actually… yet his pride and the oath he had set with your father the minute kento started pursuing his desired career after high school, hindered him from ever admitting anything to anyone. especially you.

and because he constantly ignored the way he felt, he was regrettably perplexed every time he was around you— which was literally every single second of every waking day since the moment he received his protection licensing… for kento was your bodyguard, hired by your father who saw his interests in technical protection training, and trusted no other man around his daughter other than kento himself, encouraging him to pursue it as a career in the promise that he would guarantee him a position— one with a pay that would have him set for the rest of his life so long as his precious little daughter was happy and safe.

and kento took the offer without so even as a twitch in his serious expression for two reasons.

the first was the obvious, to solidify proper employment for himself in the career that he’d always paid particular interest in ever since he was a kid— to make a man out of himself and work under prestigious and professional levels of security with someone, your father, who’s orders of authority were equivalent to a president, and a man he admired like no other and dreamed of owning a business that was as fruitful as his.

and the other… was to keep an eye on you.

you were reckless, bratty, naive, troublesome, silly, and never took absolutely anything seriously— all things that worried kento to no end anytime you so even managed to slip from his sharp attentive line of sight since the both of you were young.

and you escaping him happened a little more often than he’d like to admit.

like now.

“y/n—”

kento sharply turned upon hearing your snickering little giggles zooming past him and trailing from down the hall already, him swiftly retrieving his blazer that he had previously set on one of your lounge chairs and settling it over his arm, long and hasty steps striding out of your bedroom and down the hall, him peaking in several dark open doors and hallways of your ginormous mansion of a home on his way— the clicking of your heels and you still giggling serving as a guide for him to find you.

he sighed.

“darling, this isn’t going to change the fact that i still have to accompany you—”

kento rounded the corner and entered one of the many lounge area rooms your father used for business meetings and partnerships, your little head poking out from behind one of the large sofas with a disgruntled pouty look.

“says who?”

“says me.” he took the blazer from his arm and extended it, shaking it out a little and preparing to put it on. “and your father.”

you let out a tiny grumble, getting up off your knees and standing.

“but don’t you wanna go to sleep ken?”

“very much so.”

“so then go! i’m giving you permission heh!” you chirped, sending him a striking smile. “i won’t tell my father! or anyone! you deserve a good nights rest—”

“i’m going with you and that’s final.”

you threw your head back and groaned in frustration, kento finding your tantrum a little amusing as he chuckled and shrugged on his blazer.

“you want to go to this event, yes?”

you funnily slugged on over to his side with dragging steps, eyes to the floor.

“mhm…”

“so then enough fighting and let’s go.” he stepped to the side and gently ushered you forward. “i’d like to be back before your father wakes up.”

you walked forward and out of the lounge room, the both of you beginning your journey down the hall and towards the grand staircase, kento following behind you as you still internally huffed and puffed about him coming along.

your refutes to kento joining you weren’t because you didn’t like him or anything like that… it was quite the opposite actually.

you were obsessed with that man.

“you scare my friends you know…”

the side of his lip quirked.

“do i?”

“mhm.”

“how so sweetheart?”

“i think it’s your face.” you turned your head around and looked behind you as you walked, hands wringing behind your back with a cute grin. “it’s so serious. and it might be because you’re always staring them down whenever they hang out with me.”

kento calmly walked ahead of you and stepped down a few steps, his hand automatically coming up to assist you and you taking it as you carefully descended down the steps, a gentle act he always did for you.

he pursed his lips.

“i’m simply doing my job… but i suppose i could lay off a bit.”

you giggled. “no it’s okay ken! i agree. they just don’t know you like i do.”

ever since you practically met him you were obsessed— him being the most poised and respectful piece of hunk to ever grace your life, as kento was so unbelievably different from all of the other straight up boys in your life that deemed themselves to be men, when in reality they didn’t even come close to that whatsoever.

kento nanami was the definition of a man.

and out of everything that you’ve ever received on a silver platter with zero hesitation since technically birth… you wanted him the most.

except you were convinced he wasn’t obsessed with you like you were with him.

because the second kento became your bodyguard at the age of literal nineteen, there wasn’t ever a moment that you remember where he wasn’t with you and pulled to your side like a magnet— guarding and watching your every move and making sure that you were out of harms way no matter what, all things that were automatic and essentially part of the job description.

but you feared that it was just that.

that kento didn’t view you the way you viewed him… that you were just a client to him and that the reason he was always around was because he had to be, and not because he wanted to.

you feared that kento only saw you as some helpless spoiled girl who couldn’t do anything for herself and therefore always needed guidance, and you also feared that because he’d known you since you were little and became your bodyguard when you were sixteen, that he still saw you as a sixteen year old and not the full grown woman that you were now.

the thought was mortifying to you.

and you wondered if kento had ever thought about you as something more than just— a client? maybe.. maybe as a lover?

did he at least view you as a friend?

but more importantly, if he wasn’t your bodyguard… would he stay?

kento assisted you down to the very last step as you shook away your thoughts, the both of you making your way out through the front glass double doors and over to his car in the open driveway, a sleek and shiny black luxury SUV that you always preferred to sit in rather than your own vehicle as his little passenger princess— always and forever and at times putting up a fight when your father would make you drive instead of kento, spouting some nonsense about how he didn’t want you to forget how to drive and become an incompetent girl.

and you’d each time just scoff and roll your eyes— your father always looking for ways to jab scoldings at you and fuss over every choice you’d make regardless of how big or small it was, believing you to be an incompetent girl anyways and you choosing to ignore him and scowl as you moved behind kento’s big buff frame to hide, him knowing to take over and speak for you whenever you did, as your father listened to him better than he did you ever since you were young.

kento in a way also scolded you often and fussed over your choices… but he was gentle. never raising his voice at you or overstepping any boundaries that made you feel like you were stupid and incapable of things, him always giving you the chance to fix it or refute with an open mind and heart to hear you out… and you loved kento. that was a given.

and your dramatic self deemed that the day kento yelled at you for the first time for whatever reason— was the day that you died.

kento smoothly smiled over what you said with closed lips and opened the car door for you, you getting in and pinching the skirt of your flowy mesh dress to readjust once you were seated, straightening it up over your legs as he rounded over and got in the drivers seat.

“i know a way you can lay off a bit so you don’t scare off my friends tonight ken!”

he started the engine and flickered on the high beams, your eyes squinting at the sudden brightness ahead of you.

“and that is..?”

you grinned and leaned over the center console, placing your elbow on it and propping your chin up with your palm, him looking at you expectantly.

so handsome.

“why don’t you stare at me instead of staring at them!”

kento breathed in as he looked away, steering around and out of the driveway while your close proximity and sweet expensive perfume wafted all around him— filling up his every system with everything that was wonderfully you as he tried hard not to let it show.

“i believe i already do just that.” he spoke. “it’s my job to watch you darling.”

“okay then watch me harder.”

he blinked, your wording somehow twinging a sense of provocativeness when it wasn’t anything like that at all, and he wanted to wash his brain out with holy water for thinking of something inappropriate like that with you.

but you leaned even closer, lips by his ear as he turned the steering wheel to make an easy left.

“you’re supposed to have eyes only for me right?”

kento swallowed.

“i’m supposed to have eyes everywhere.”

you playfully rolled your eyes and leaned back a bit. “okay… but maybe for tonight, just me!”

“i’m afraid if it’s just you i won’t be able to watch for any other signs of abnormality—”

“oh my god booo!” you huffed and plopped back down in your seat, arms crossing as you stared ahead. “you’re no fun…”

kento chuckled and lifted his arm, patting your head and you blushing before he placed his hand back on the gear shift, the only thing on your mind now was how much you wanted to stuff his big fingers in your mouth—

“the event is still the one on melrose street, correct?”

your eyes snapped in his direction. “huh? oh yes! yes it is.”

he pursed his lips, an uncertain look on his face as you faltered and furrowed your brows.

“what ken? what’s wrong?”

“is it the same host and organization as last time?”

“umm…” you pulled your phone out from your purse and scrolled to the initial invite you had received through a friend, perfectly manicured nails tapping away. “uh huh! i’m pretty sure… how come?”

“i don’t think it’d be very wise to go… you got extremely inebriated the last time we went.”

you snorted and waved him off. “that’s because it was my friends birthday ken. i was celebrating!”

“you barfed in a bush as soon as we got home.”

“part of the experience!”

kento shook his head and sighed through his nose, a small smile on his face as he peaked over at you from the side.

“rowdy little girl.”

little girl.

and you felt an unpleasant tug at your heart, you pursing your lips and wanting to defy what he called you.

“i was fine after though, was i not?”

you suddenly grabbed his hand and dropped it down on your exposed thigh, his rough hand making contact with your skin as he accidentally jerked the steering wheel and looked at you with bewildered eyes, you only throwing your head back and laughing.

“what?” you spoke in between giggles. “i’m cold! and your hand’s so warm—”

“honey—”

“your job is to take care of me right?” you sweetly smiled, and he felt a flutter of familiar yet confusing affection swirl up in his chest at the sight. “and you’re doing just that!”

kento cleared his throat and nodded, hand staying on your thigh and you giddy on the inside as he held it.

“just know that i have a blanket in the back in case my hand doesn’t suffice.” he mentioned, pulling up to a gated community. “the weather is a bit colder these days.”

your eyes softened, staring at the side of his chiseled jaw and face as he exchanged a few words with the security guard at the front, flashing his ID before the guard gave him the all clear and muttered something over his walkie talkie, the gates slowing sliding open as a result.

“why do you have a blanket in the back ken?” you asked softly and looked down, the tip of your index finger tracing over the prominent veins on the back of his hand.

“for you.” he replied. “you get cold frequently.”

you grinned.

“awww you remembered!—”

you unbuckled your seatbelt, jumped up from your seat, and flung your arms around his neck and practically stuffed his cheek up against your chest as you gushed, kento’s eyes blinking wide eyed and cheeks fucking flaring as he tried to keep steady hands on the wheel and not swerve into the garbage bins in front of the designated mansion, music already blaring through and seeping through the vents of the car as he fumbled to shift the gear into park— stiffening the hell out of his neck and not daring to turn his head even the slightest in your direction in fear of facing your breasts head on.

“i— i appreciate the sentiment sweetheart—”

you pulled back a tiny bit, your arms still tightly locked around his neck but giving him enough space to turn his head to look up at you now, your twinkling hyper eyes shining even through the darkness of the car, kento almost forgetting about the close proximity between the two of you entirely, and also almost forgetting about how this was— regrettably… considered to be inappropriate.

he was your bodyguard, he was supposed to protect you, not think about the way your perfect smile right now was so incredibly soul crushing and doing it in just the right way too— suffocating his entire being as he tried hard again, in real time, to kick those disrespectful thoughts to the back of his mind and focus on what he was meant to be doing and thinking… all of which pertained to his guidance for you, and your safety, most of all.

but you were beautiful.

there was no denying that.

“you know me best out of anyone ken.”

and he did. he truly truly did.

but to kento, you were that forbidden fruit, cast away up into the highest of branches and dangling off of the tallest most unreachable tree of all— glimmering against the sun, magnificent… waiting to be picked by the person who dared to and claim it as their own without a single worry of the troubles that came with ravishing it.

but claiming and ravishing that forbidden fruit definitely came with it’s dire consequences, and kento nanami was an honorable man.

if he were to give in to his pulsing desires for you, desires that he couldn’t even exactly make sense of as he continued to manifest total and utter blockage in his mind to prevent those thoughts from seeping through, not only would he deal with the embarrassing repercussions with your father— his boss, but inevitably drag you down with him too, as he knew your father has always been rather harsh with you.

and you didn’t deserve to be dragged down just because he couldn’t control his emotions.

you frowned, tilting your head as you assessed kento’s strange far off look.

“ken?” you asked. “kenny ken?”

“eh?” he blinked rapidly. “oh i’m sorry y/n. i was… thinking.”

“thinking?”

you let him go and sat back in your seat, the warmth from your arms dissipating and the goosebumps around his neck prominent now by the chilliness of the car.

“thinking about what?” you quipped, smiling again. “about meee?”

night and day.

“i’m afraid not.” he switched off the ignition and held the keys in his hand. “more about how you should be at home and in bed and most definitely not here.”

you pouted, slumping in your seat as you watched him get out of the car and walk over to your side, opening your door for you and offering a hand for you to take.

“but ken i’m helping a friend.” you took his hand and carefully stepped out, him closing the door behind you as you began walking up the sidewalk with kento following close behind you, the car beeping and flashing its lights to signify he had locked it.

“honey, your friend is a grown woman.” you both walked up the steps and continued down the long wide driveway, other guests traveling alongside you towards the mansion. “she doesn’t need moral support from you to attend an event.”

“yeah and i don’t need a bodyguard for every little thing i do, do i?” you countered, slowing down your steps a little and nudging your shoulder with his. “hm?”

he gave you a deadpanned look.

“actually, you do.”

you scoffed. “no i do not.”

the two of you entered through the grand entrance— doors already open and with a set of security guards on each side as you passed them, kento’s already alert senses amplified now that you both were in an unpredictable loud environment such as this, and with way too many people for kento to keep track of besides yourself as he scanned the area, ticking the usual and automatic tiny boxes in his head that indicated the area was alright for the time being.

“if my friend is such a grown woman, then so am i!” you yelled over the music as you walked through the mansion to get to the pool area outside, passing by several caterers and butlers with small appetizer dishes on silver trays or champagne glasses, you taking one as your gaze switched between person to person to see if you could try and find anyone you recognized.

kento shook his head a little.

contrary to your popular belief, you never acted like a grown woman sometimes— constantly rebellious and spontaneous with no hesitations to do anything remotely reckless… and that worried him to absolutely no end as he was living in constant stress over something happening to you— something that he could easily prevent and steer you away from because that’s what he was fucking there for.

but you were always against it, and he didn’t know why when it was simply just protection.

upon entering the pool area, your eyes lit up at the rowdy scene before you— party guests jumping into the pool in full fledged clothing or throwing each other in, the bar at the end of the backyard lively and busy with multiple individuals already drunk off of their minds as they clumsily passed by you and nearly tumbled you over, kento each time quick to grab your shoulders and gently pull you away so they’d just about miss you and continue on.

and the minute he caught sight of your group of friends off to the side of the bubbling jacuzzi right before you did, every single one of them already inebriated and rambunctious, he knew he was in for a night of chasing you around and getting you to sober up a little to refrain yourself from running across the lawn in only your undergarments like the last party you both attended.

“y/n! hi!” one of your friends slightly slurred, the one with the ‘crisis’, reaching behind her to grab a red solo cup of god knows what and passing it to you. “here! i just got some from the kitchen!”

“what is it?” you laughed, on the verge of placing the brim to your lips when kento suddenly nudged you, gently prying it away from your fingers and lifting it up to his nose for inspection, you playfully rolling your eyes as you turned back to your friend.

“dunno!” she shrugged, flashing you a wobbly grin. “it’s a mix of tequila aaanddd… cranberry tonic! yeah!”

“smells awfully strong.” kento muttered in your ear, passing the cup back to you. “just moderate your intake.”

“okay dad.” you mocked, the little side smile on your face never failing to deactivate any further scoldings from him about how you shouldn’t drink that mix and maybe get something else, him deciding to just let you have fun regardless of the work he was about to be put through… as it was hard for kento to say no to you at times anyways.

you brought the rim back to your lips and took a sip, your face immediately scrunching up and gagging.

“the fuck is this?” you placed a hand over your mouth. “tastes nothing like cranberry and just straight vodka—”

you ended up drinking the entire cup and two more fills after that, kento each time gently advising you not to and that you’d had enough, but you only pouting and bratty and defying him with every attempt he made at pulling the drink away from you, a water bottle in hand that he’d snagged from one of the coolers as he swiftly moved through the twists and turns of the crowd to stay caught up with you, a skill he was an expert at at this point considering how often you disappeared from his line of sight.

“sweetheart please—” kento caught you by the waist just as you were about to literally jump in the pool, you giggling and hiccuping as he dragged you away. “let’s take a seat for a moment alright? you need to drink water.”

“what i need is a teeny weeny kiss from you ken!”

he faltered, eyes dropping to the ground as he continued to half drag and half carry your body to a nearby table away from the commotion by the pool, setting you down on a chair.

“you need water.” he pushed as he knelt down on a knee in front of you, unscrewing the cap. “and i’m forbidding you from attending any events like this for a month.”

“a month?!” you whined, head dramatically falling back in desperation. “but why? what did i do?!”

“i told you to moderate your intake.” he gently grabbed your jaw and brought the water bottle to your lips, carefully holding it up for you to drink. “you were just about to jump in the pool darling and ruin your dress.”

lowering the bottle, your cheeks cutely puffed up with water as you shook your head side to side.

you swallowed. “lies. i was simply walking!”

he fixed the strap of your dress that was halfway sliding off, pulling it back over your shoulder.

“yes into the pool.” he brought the water bottle back to your lips and you drank some more before he lowered it again. “you need to be more careful y/n.”

you pouted. “are you mad at me ken?”

“not mad just quite stressed—”

“pull my dress up and spank me then.”

kento slapped a hand over his eyes and shook his head, cheeks buzzing pink at your ludicrous statement.

“don’t say things like that honey.”

“and why not?” you tilted your head, pearly white teeth glimmering against the warm lights of the backyard as he dropped his hand. “thought you loved me.”

“please sober up.” he breathed out exhaustedly, heart hammering against his fucking chest as he made you drink water again. “before you say something silly again—”

you abruptly pulled back and a few droplets of water dribbled down your chin, kento quick to grab the handkerchief in his suit to pat you dry as you narrowed your eyes.

“you think loving me is silly?” you muttered, a little slur at the end of your sentence.

“of course not darling.” he spoke softly, placing the handkerchief down on the table behind you. “the other thing you said was silly—”

“what— spanking me?” you lit up again. “but it’s hot. and i want it. you should do it once we get to the car—”

kento slapped a hand over your mouth this time, wide frantic eyes looking around to see if anyone had heard your loud lewd blabbering, his face absolutely fucking red at this point as he tried not to vividly imagine what you had just said… and pathetically failing at it too.

“enough. we’re going home. you have brunch with the monroe’s tomorrow.”

“nuh uh!”

you pulled his hand away from your mouth and gripped the edges of your chair, trying to cement yourself to it as he wrapped his arms around your body and pulled and tugged, you laughing when he’d manage to of course— lift you up… but the chair along with it as well.

“let go please.”

“nope!”

“i said let go y/n.”

“if you give me a kiss!”

kento put you back down and sighed.

“you are unbelievably inebriated.”

“and you are unbelievably handsome.” you cheesed as you got closer, your nose brushing against his and kento’s breath catching in his throat, stiffening up.

“darling you don’t know what you’re saying—”

“yes i do.” you spoke, endearingly nudging your nose softly with his and kento’s eyes warming at the act. “you’re gods favorite.”

hopeless hopeless girl…

his eyes sinfully flickered down to your pretty lips, plushy and delightful as they perfectly stretched in such a way to form a striking smile that always sent men to their knees wherever you both went, him baring witness to it all as your bodyguard… and him included— falling to his knees over you.

for kento was just as hopeless as you.

but he was better at ignoring it until it became this puzzling blur in his brain that confused the ever living shit out of him.

“let’s go home.”

his breath fanned against your lips and you softly shook your head.

“kiss me then we’ll go.”

kento’s forehead fell against yours, eyes closing in borderline pain as his big hands came up to cup your cheeks, your own eyes loopily widening with overactive exciting thoughts over what was about to transpire.

if he was about to kiss you… could this mean he didn’t view you as just a client? as a little girl? but a woman?

was he considering it? did you have a chance? was he actually about to fucking kiss you?—

kento sharply breathed in and turned your head slightly to the side, planting his lips hard on your cheek and him unmoving for a moment, you still wide eyed and shocked as your cheek mushed up against the force of his mouth.

he pulled back with a smack! and stood, hand extending out for you to take.

“ready now?”

your fingers slowly came up to the side of your face in a complete daze, because though it wasn’t a full blown kiss, the linger of his lips was still there even after the gesture was long over, your little cheek tingling and warm.

you nodded, taking his hand and attempting to stand but reeling over as you did, your head in complete drunken disarray as kento’s arms quickly shot out and caught you from falling face first on the ground.

“i can’t—” you giggled, hiccuping between each laugh. “i can’t walk ken. and my feet hurt.”

“i’m aware.” he sighed, sitting you back down on the chair and kneeling again, grabbing your ankle.

“what are you doing?” you asked, watching the way he propped up your foot and tugged at the clasp on your heels, carefully sliding it off and beginning to do the same with the other.

“you’re in pain, yes?” he slipped your other heel off and stood, placing your heels on a nearby table before positioning himself next to you, sliding a hand under your knees. “put your arms around my neck sweetheart.”

you did as told, your little heart singing happy drunken tunes over him being such a gentleman and taking care of you in the way that he was, you knowing in the morning you’d regret it and be embarrassed, but choosing to bask in the moment for the meantime and deal with the horrific hungover consequences later.

kento easily lifted you with only one fucking arm supporting you under your knees as you held on, his other hand grabbing your heels before weaving through the other tables and venturing out of the pool area, everybody else too inebriated to care or notice some big bulky man carrying you out through the backyard and inside the mansion, your head resting against his chest.

“are you alright?” he asked, taking a quick glance down at you as he reached the grand entrance to exit. “do you feel ill?”

“no i’m okay.” you smiled. “just thinking about the fact that you’re a cheater.”

he chuckled. “a cheater? in what way?”

kento carefully stepped down the steps and began his walk across the spacious lawn back to the car, you tightening your grip on his neck and wanting him to hold you like this forever.

“the deal was for a kiss.”

“and i gave you one.” he softly smiled, squeezing your thigh a little in emphasis.

“on the cheek!” you retorted. “i wanted one on the mouth.”

kento blushed furiously and looked away, trying to straighten himself up as he walked down the sidewalk with you in his arms.

“you didn’t specify darling.”

“yeaahhh right.” you mumbled, watching the lights of his car flash up ahead as it unlocked by the click of kento’s keys, him coming up to the passenger side and opening the door. “just say you’re repulsed by me.”

he scoffed. “you’re saying silly things again.”

“the proof is in the pudding.”

kento carefully bent and set you down on your seat, placing your heels next to you on the floor and straightening out the skirt of your dress for you.

“the proof is that you’re drunk. i’m not making any moves like that when you’re not in the correct state of mind.”

you gasped and slapped a hand over your mouth. “are you saying you would have? if i was sober? did you bring my water with you? i need to drink it right now where is it—”

“dear god i did not say that.” he closed the door and came round to the other side, an amused little smile on his lips as he got in. “and i’m sorry but i left it behind.”

“kentooo!” you whined. “now how else are you supposed to kiss me?”

he shakily pressed the ‘on’ button for the ignition and looked away, your bold words and requests and moves serving as sheer torment to him as they one after the other kept being thrown at his face, him aware this is how you usually were anyways, but ten times unbelievably worse now that you were intoxicated.

and kento was growing weaker.

“i’m not supposed to do anything.” he backed out of the parking space and sped off. “and it’s nearly four in the morning y/n. you have brunch with the monroe’s at ten and you’re supposed to be up by eight.”

you groaned, head dropping back against the headrest as you crossed your arms.

“i never wanted to go to that in the first place.” you muttered. “the monroe’s and their girl friends and whoever else is going are a bunch of boring bitches. all they talk about is what their daddies just bought them.”

the yearly monroe brunch was a way for you and the other daughters of your fathers various business partners to bond and maintain connections, some sort of peace treaty between them all so long as their little preppy daughters were kept satisfied and spoiled, your father forcing you to go every year and demanding you to keep friendships with them all, insisting that it would serve beneficial to him with their parents and help nourish the business even more than it already was.

you genuinely liked the monroe daughters and the rest of the girls at first, sixteen year old you seeking their validation and acceptance for years and constantly following after every little thing that they did, afraid of slipping up and landing in their rotten graces as soon as you did anything that would upset them… until they started badmouthing kento.

after that you didn’t give a fuck.

because anyone that was so willing as to talk bad about such a respectful and kind man as kento to you, was someone who immediately feel in your rotten graces, each and every one of them doing so the minute they started calling him weird for constantly following you around, putting him down for it and saying he should find something better to do than be your bodyguard, and that you didn’t need such high class protection and deeming it unnecessary.

whether they were jealous of the fact that you had a bodyguard and they didn’t was mystery to you, but ever since that day, you despised the yearly monroe brunch, you now aware of who they truly were and realized how blind you were to it just because you were seeking their validation— wanting nothing to do with them from that point forward and begging your father to just let you skip out and that they were better off without you there anyways.

but he never listened.

kento laughed, nodding curtly over what you said. “although true, you still have to go honey.”

“i don’t know why my father can’t just piss off.” you sighed and looked out the window, cars zooming past you as he drove down the freeway. “i really don’t see the point in me going.”

“you’re an important asset.” he spoke. “all of the daughters coming together is tradition.”

“what— to sit there and drink tea and eat muffins? stupidest tradition i’ve ever heard ken.”

he chuckled, reaching over to pat your thigh and your cheeks going pinky as he did so, your drunken mind still somehow clearly recalling when he had his warm hand on you earlier in the car prior to the party.

he went to retract his hand and you quickly stopped him, timidly placing it back on your thigh and settling your hand over his big one, the both of you nervously avoiding eye contact and choosing not to say anything.

kento understood wholeheartedly why you hated going to the monroe brunch so much, for he wasn’t particularly a fan of hearing them talk for hours about who’d they just dumped or what they’d just bought, and he sympathized with you— really, your father although a man he admired for his work ethic and sought after for his approval, was unrighteously stoic with you and always dismissed your thoughts and opinions, the fact saddening kento whenever he witnessed it first hand.

“you’ll be alright.” he spoke up quietly again, noticing the way you were dozing off a little in your seat. “it’s just for brunch. you won’t have to worry about seeing them again until next year.”

“you mean until the dinner party we’re hosting next week.” you sleepily muttered, eyes closed as both of your hands laid over his that was on your thigh, holding it almost as if you were afraid that kento would pull away, his eyes softening at the thought.

“ah, that’s right.” he pulled into your gated community, the security guard already recognizing kento and his car as he merely waved and pressed the button to open the gate, driving through once it did entirely. “i had forgotten.”

“mmm..” you hummed, and he smiled, facing the road again and turning the wheel with every curve and turn of your neighborhood, your dimly lit mansion coming into view eventually and him pulling up to park in your grandiose driveway next to you car, turning off the ignition.

you laid still and pretty in your seat, chest slowly rising and falling as you softly breathed through your nose, you in a drunken slumber as kento quietly got out of the car and went over to your side, opening your door.

“darling.” he whispered, shuffling an arm under your knees and the other on your back. “i need to carry you up, okay? hold onto me please.”

you mumbled incoherently and did so, your arms limply wrapping around his neck as he carried you out of the car and shut the door with a push from his leg, locking his car and the little horn going off again as he hoisted you up, walking up the stone path of your driveway and up to the grand double doors— one of your housekeeping staff already there holding the door open for you both, them also used to your late night partying and shenanigans.

“thank you.” he whispered gratefully as he passed, and they nodded, locking up the house behind you as kento continued on up the staircase and down the spacious hallway, his dress shoes clicking against the shiny flooring and echoing across the silence as he reached your bedroom.

he carefully set you down on your bed once inside, you groggily rubbing your eyes as he stepped back and over to your large vanity, rummaging through your things and drawers while knocking a few nail polishes and perfumes over— various clatterings and kento cursing under his breath over the noise, it making you sleepily giggle.

“what are you looking for ken?” you whispered, one of your eyes tiredly peeking open.

“your— ah… i’m afraid i can’t remember what it’s called—”

he gestured to his face. “you remove your makeup with it sweetheart.”

you closed your eye again. “oh my wipes..? they’re in the bottom drawer to your left.”

he opened the corresponding drawer and reached in, taking out your makeup remover wipes and walking back over to you, peeling open the packing and sliding an individual white wipe out, you lifting a hand out to grab it but stopping once he moved it away from you.

you drowsily looked up at him, about to speak until he took your chin in between his fingers and tilted you up, him bending a bit and lifting his hand to wipe off your makeup, delicately removing it with precision as you tiredly let a small smile grow on your lips.

“i can do it ken it’s okay.”

he shook his head, you closing your eyes as he wiped off your mascara. “oh it’s alright you’re exhausted… and i’ve seen you do it quite a few times.”

you peaked your other eye open, his handsome face so unforgettable against the moonlight streaming through your balcony doors that your little sleepy heart started gushing over literally just who he was, your head leaning into his touch.

“kay…”

he finished wiping the rest of it off after a minute, tossing it into your little bin under your vanity desk before walking over to your walk-in closet and disappearing for a few moments, coming back out with one of your silk baby blue pajama sets in hand, offering it out to you.

“change please.” you sluggishly took the set from him and nodded. “i’ll be just outside—”

“no it’s okay.” you stood and reached for the hem of your dress. “you can stay—”

you pulled up your dress with no fucks given and kento’s eyes bulged open, immediately slapping a hand over his eyes and spinning around with his heart thumping on overdrive, the image of your perfect body adorned with a lacy white bra and panties a hard one to try and— unfortunately— forget for the sake of respecting your privacy and the most intimate parts of yourself.

you giggled and kento shook his head in desperation, placing a hand on his hip.

“don’t do things like that honey.” he scolded gently, a hand still over his eyes as you changed. “at least wait until i avert my attention—”

“you don’t wanna see?” you pouted, finishing by buttoning up your top and tugging at the sleeve of his suit for him to turn around. “it’s all for you ken.”

for— for—

oh dear god help him.

“it’s time to sleep.” he reached around you and pulled back the covers of your bed, you whining. “come on you have brunch with the monroe’s—”

you grumbled and climbed on, dropping yourself on the mattress and shuffling under your various fluffy blankets and sheets, him helping you in pulling them over you until they were settled comfortably by your chest.

“kento.”

“hm?” he hummed, still fiddling with your blankets and basically tucking you in, you finding it incredibly sweet.

“thank you for always taking care of me.”

he stopped, eyes flickering to yours before a soft close lipped smile spread across his face.

“of course darling.” he patted your head. “it’s what i’m here for.”

you knew what he was actually supposed to be there for was only for your protection— to only clock in when you went to events and clock out the second said event was over and done with and you were back home safe and sound.

except kento clocked in the moment your eyes opened for the day, and clocked out as soon as they closed again at night, him by your side through everything in your life and not just for special events, but making sure you had had enough to eat and that you weren’t sick after you spent the day out without a jacket (much to his pestering), that you finished your homework when you were in school and helped you with it as best as he could, and that he was your shoulder to cry on whenever your father yelled at you over something idiotic again— all in all taking care of you like you thought a lover would do for their most treasured thing.

and you hoped you were kento’s most treasured thing.

he was yours, after all.

“i like when you call me darling.” you murmured softly. “and honey. and sweetheart.”

kento swallowed and blushed, thankful that it was sort of dark in your room and that you couldn’t see how pink in the face he actually was over something so minimal.

“i’m glad.” he replied. “you’d let me know if it ever makes you uncomfortable correct?”

you quickly shook your head. “it never makes me uncomfortable ken… ever.”

he nodded, smiling in satisfaction.

“you know what does make me uncomfortable?”

he faltered, brows furrowing in concern.

“what honey?”

“the fact that you still haven’t kissed me on the lips—”

he sharply breathed in and leaned back to stand upright, you giggling and protesting as you flung your arms around his neck before he could, bringing him roughly back down to you and basically pulling him on top of you as kento let out a little oof at the force.

he planted his palms flat on your mattress, trying to lift himself up a bit but unable to due to the astronomical grip you had on him.

“y/n i’m crushing you let me—”

“so?”

“you won’t be able to properly breathe—”

“and? this is the way to go!”

kento laughed into your neck then, managing to lift himself up at least a little bit to look at you.

“silly girl.” he murmured, and you grinned.

how stunning.

his eyes dangerously switched to your lips, and you noticed this, your heart skipping a small beat in your chest.

“ken.”

“yes?”

“what do you view me as.”

his gaze shifted and locked with yours, his brows pinching together.

“what do you mean honey?”

“like—” you pursed your lips, looking away to the side in embarrassment. “do you see me as just… a client? or just a friend? or like a little girl who doesn’t know how to do anything? or spoiled?”

“a client?” he repeated. “not at all that’s— an awfully wrong term for what you are.”

your head snapped in his direction.

“really?”

he sat up, sitting himself down on the edge of your bed next to you and you scooching over.

“you are spoiled.” he continued, chuckling once he saw the hopeful expression on your face fall and turn sour. “but it doesn’t mean that you’re incapable of doing things… i’ve never once thought of you as such.”

you hummed in acknowledgement, relieved a little.

“do you see me as a woman?” you asked softly.

he looked at you confusedly.

“well— of course. that’s what you are, aren’t you?”

“no i mean—” you sighed, struggling to get the words out as a blush rose to your cheeks. “like a woman. like the kind that makes you want to…”

you faltered, and he waited patiently for you to continue.

“like the kind of woman you’d want to kiss and things… like— like the kind you’d see yourself falling in love with… or am i just— a friend?”

kento froze.

were you still drunk?

“sweetheart it’s not wise to talk about things like this when you’re inebriated please rest—”

“i’m not!” you frantically shook your head. “i sobered up a long time ago…”

dear god.

he can’t answer your question. he can’t answer your question without straight up lying to you just so he can keep that boundary of respect he had for you and your father, to keep the vow kento had with him as your protector, as your guide…

but kento nanami wasn’t a liar.

and kento nanami loved you— a feeling he had idiotically mistaken for confusion when it was actually the plain and utter truth, for what he felt for you was clearer than anything else in his life, and absolutely nothing about it was ever confusing like he swore up and down before that it was.

he’d known…. he’d always known. and that’s perhaps why he took the bodyguard position in the first place without a fret to your father.

to stay by your side.

to make sure you were safe… with him.

but did he dare?… did he dare to take the pretty forbidden fruit he had tried so hard for years to stay clear from? to leave it glimmering and healthy to flourish on its own no matter how badly he wanted to harvest it and claim for himself?

“i—”

he hesitated, your beady doe eyes looking at him so hopefully that it clenched his heart without mercy.

“i love you…” he spoke softly. “but i don’t think you being with me would do you justice.”

you blinked, unsure if you should take that positively or negatively—

“but i love you still… you know that.”

you looked at him.

“but love in what way?” you responded.

because love you in the way of a friend or family member sure, and you knew kento did at least that much and wouldn’t have spent so much time with you since the ages of eleven and fourteen if otherwise.

but did he love you?

“love… in the way that makes me want to kiss you.” he tugged at the watch on his wrist, referencing to what you had said before. “and love in the way that makes me want to give everything i have to you honey.”

because he has. he’s been.

“really?” you whispered, the wind completely knocked out of your lungs as he picked up his head to look at you, nodding.

kento opened his arms out for you then and you slowly pushed the covers off of you, crawling over and extending your arms to wrap around his abdomen, his around your shoulders while you tucked your face into his chest.

“but i don’t think you being with me would do you justice my love…” he repeated, and you frowned, already feeling your bottom lip wobble.

“why?”

“i have too much respect for you and your father.” he explained, caressing your hair through his fingers. “and i feel that i’m taking advantage of my position by being with you always… that i’m not giving you a chance to know what it’s like to be with someone else—”

“i don’t want anyone else.” you cut him off. “i don’t need to explore to figure that out ken.”

you looked up at him, cheek mushed up against him. “you’re with me always too… do you need a chance to know what it’s like to be with someone else?”

“no.” he shook his head. “no i absolutely do not.”

you giggled softly. “see? then why would i need one?”

he stared down at you softly, a warm smile that could kill millions if he so let it on his face, and you blushed.

“i guess you’re right sweetheart.”

kento continued to run his big fingers through your hair, you dozing off a little at the soothing feeling.

“i don’t think your father will be very happy knowing i love you.”

you grumbled. “who cares what that old fart thinks—”

he snorted, lightly tapping your shoulder in a form of scolding, you laughing and holding him tighter.

“he doesn’t have to know for now…” you murmured. “and honestly i didn’t even know you loved me so i think we’re okay—”

“i’m sorry?” he blinked. “i thought i made it somewhat… clear?”

“no!” you countered. “you rejected every move i made ken… you had me basically begging for you.”

his brows pinched in guilt. “i’m sorry my love… i was doing it more for you than for me i— … i didn’t have any ill intent behind it.”

“it’s okay ken.” you smiled cutely, pulling back and propping yourself up by your palms on your mattress, leaning and planting a sweet kiss to his cheek. “though you could’ve just told me you had a begging kink i would’ve understood and begged you to put your fingers in my—”

kento’s eyes widened and he shut you up with a hand over your mouth, your muffled giggles seeping through as he shook his head.

“you have the most vulgar mouth.”

you took his wrist and brought it away, your lips coming next to his ear.

“do something about it then.”

he stilled.

“or do you want me to say what other things i want you to do to me?”

“enough you need to rest—” he placed his hands on your waist with the intent to pull you back and lay you down to sleep… but he just couldn’t do it, his grip shakily tightening instead.

“what i need…” you slid your hands agonizingly slow up his chest and around his broad shoulders, your lips brushing against his with hot steamy desperate breaths fanning across each others faces. “is to know what it’s like to have your fingers in my mouth ken…”

“darling please—”

“—i wanna lick all over them—”

he respects you... dear god kento respects you he— he couldn’t possibly indulge in—

“—so i can show you how good i can suck and choke on your cock—”

kento mushed your cheeks together with his fingers and swallowed your lips up, you letting out a little squeak of surprise as his other unoccupied arm locked around your waist and pulled you flush against him, him hungrily kissing you and gulping down your humming moans of satisfaction as you hurriedly swung a leg over his thighs, straddling him.

you disconnected from his lips and pulled back, taking his hand and bringing it up to your mouth as you pushed him down on the mattress with your unoccupied one, kento looking up at you so hot and bothered and astonished as you hovered over him, plump precious lips wrapping around his index and ring finger and sensually sliding it deeper and deeper in your mouth across your wet tongue.

“jesus sweetheart…” he breathed out, eyes entirely transfixed on the way your lips closed around his fingers entirely and sucked, your head pumping slowly and you delighted over how hard he felt underneath his slacks over something as just you sucking on his fingers.

“m’gonna suck your dick.” you spoke with a mouthful of his digits, and he sat up a little.

“my darling you don’t— you don’t have to do that it’s alright—”

you slid his fingers out of your mouth and pouted. “but i want to… unless you don’t want me to? or do you prefer someone else to do it—”

“what? stop that.” he shook his head, reaching up to tuck some of your hair behind your ear as you snickered, his hand coming down to cup your cheek. “i’m just worried about keeping you up… you have to get ready in a couple of hours.”

you shrugged, giving him a little grin.

“if it’s you and your big dick keeping me up i could care less.”

you swung your thighs off of his lap and stood momentarily, dropping down to your knees and positioning yourself in between his legs— kento’s rounded eyes and shaky breaths making you laugh a little as you reached for the buckle of his belt, tugging the clasp open and him helping you in slipping it off before reaching in his pants, a trembling but needy hand pulling out his thick cock and slowly pumping it.

kento would’ve never thought you’d be kneeling in between his legs and about to do something he’d only fleetingly thought of, the sinful images quickly grabbed by him before he could materialize them in his head any further and tossed in the trash without looking back, embarrassed and awkwardly flustered that he’d thought of such a thing when you were usually just sitting there on your vanity desk dolling yourself up, or simply speaking to him.

he would’ve never thought that the questions of being something more to you than just your bodyguard, would actually actualize itself, your pretty lips beginning to wrap around the tip of his cock and all he can think about is you and how many days he spent yearning for you, confusing it for uncertainty, and lying to himself before giving in to the fact that he did love you.

and very much so.

to kento, it was a privilege to undergo this intimate experience given by gracious you, and he only wished he didn’t push it away for so many years and dismissed your obvious attempts.

for what was happening now, was heavenly compared to the fleeting thoughts he had tossed in the trash prior… and your pace was rapid, your deprived little mouth that had begged for him time and time again slurping the ever living soul out of him as he clenched his jaw to keep his moans in, afraid of your father or any of the other housekeeping staff hearing what was filthily happening inside your bedroom— his face crossed over in pleasurable shock at how messy and drooly you were all over his dick without even allowing yourself the chance to breathe as you sucked.

“honey—” he heaved, swallowing hard as he gathered your hair up into a makeshift ponytail to keep it out of your face. “s—slow down or you’ll choke—”

you didn’t listen, your thighs clenching together to ease yourself a little as you sunk your mouth down and gagged, the tip of his cock lodged in the back of your throat so deliciously that he let out a string of rare curses from his lips.

you slurped back up and pulled off of his length with a pop, you sticking your tongue out and smiling too as you tapped his girthy dick on your tongue teasingly.

“but i want to choke ken…” you placed an open mouthed slutty kiss on the side. “and i’d like you to fuck my mouth too please—”

“shit—” he cleared his throat, his balls feeling awfully full and heavy as you parted your lips and took him in again. “but i could potentially harm you—”

you pulled off again. “kento i don’t care just use me or i’ll make you—”

he quickly gathered your soft hair again, leaned back on an elbow and shoved you back down, bucking his hips up and hitting your uvula so hard that you choked, eyes immediately watering and you moaning as he continued to buck his hips up and force you down, sloshing gurgling noises from you fueling his every being with ecstasy, throwing his head back and eyelids fluttering closed.

“you have such a dirty mouth sweetheart…” he grunted. “where did you learn that from? huh?”

you tried to respond, his relentless hip thrusting and filling your mouth up preventing you from getting anything out besides choking noises and spit, kento picking his head back up and looking at you with half lidded eyes.

“i hope you’re not speaking to other little dumb boys with it and teasing them the way you tease me…”

you tried to shake your head no and get it across that you absolutely were not— that you were physically repulsed by any other man making moves on you in your life because they were never him… but his big cock stuffing your throat was drowning out your every attempt so good that you couldn’t.

“no?” a little dazed smile played at his lips, his abdomen tightening and signifying that he was about to blow his entire pent up load in your mouth. “good honey… i don’t want you wasting your time.”

he bucked his hips up faster and forced your head down deeper, his panting and low grumbling moans making you fucking wild as you tried your best to take all of him and suck him, tears from how many times you gagged and choked trickling down your cheeks and you not giving a single fuck and pushing through, noticing that kento’s increased fidgeting and gasping was a signal that he was probably close.

and when you felt him loosen his grip on your hair, gently trying to pry you off so that he could cum somewhere else and not in your throat like the little gentlemen that he was, you slipped your mouth down again and held yourself firm, lips pumping up and down as you jerked him alongside, kento running a hand down the side of his cheek with eyes screwed tightly shut.

“darling i feel—” he quickly sat up, his expensive watch glistening against the moonlight as his hand fell over his heart. “i feel my release let me—”

he pushed at your shoulders gently and you refused, continuing to suck him off and drive him to the edge until a low gutting groan left his lips, you squeaking as he suddenly went feral and pushed the back of your head down and filled your throat up with his cum, sputtering and swallowing down as much as you could while he held you there.

“christ i’m sorry—” he let you go and you came off of him, gasping for air and with a mix of cum and drool seeping down your chin as you fell back on your ass, your chest moving erratically as you tried to catch your breath.

kento immediately stuffed his dick back in his pants and zipped it up, standing and placing his hands on your waist as he easily picked you up off the floor and sat you down next to him on the bed, concerned tumblings over your well being falling from his mouth as he moved your disheveled hair away from your face.

“honey i can’t tell you how sorry i am…” he dug into his blazer for his handkerchief, your tongue lapping up the excess drool and cum from your chin as his cheeks went red over you doing that, quickly stepping in and wiping off the rest for you.

“sorry for what ken?” you hummed, your voice a little hoarse and making kento feel guiltier as he sighed, placing the handkerchief down on your nightstand.

“for abusing your throat y/n…” he spoke gently, ushering you to bed again as he pulled back the covers. “i wasn’t letting you breathe—”

“but i liked it.” you countered softly, crawling to your pillow and planting a tender little kiss to his cheek on your way, settling under the covers. “i asked you to use me baby… and you did just that! good job!”

kento playfully rolled his eyes and brought your blankets up to your chest.

“yes but i could’ve done it in a better way.”

“in a better way likeee…?” you grinned cheekily. “like sex? well then you should’ve just asked ken i can take off my—”

you sat up and began unbuttoning your top, kento’s hands shooting out and stopping you midway as he flusteredly buttoned it back up, you laughing.

“please sweetheart you need to rest… it’s nearly six in the morning.”

you groaned and plopped back down on your pillow. “just tell the monroe’s i’m sick. i’d rather be getting dicked down by you than drinking tea with them—”

“alright okay okay—” he brought the covers back up over you with an amused shy smile. “we’ll talk more about it tomorrow. at the monroe’s.”

you huffed and turned your back to him, kento chuckling before leaning over and placing a delicate lingering kiss on your temple, a slow sleepy smile crossing your face as you relished in the fact that he actually loved you… your fear of him seeing you as nothing more than just a spoiled brat quickly dissipating from the second he uttered his bashful but yet authentic confession to you.

you had been living in absolute worry and defiance and frustrating yourself when that wasn’t necessary at all— kento was just a gentlemen, a man, and his apprehensions for indulging in something more between the two of you were very real and valid and you understood… but you also didn’t care, your stubborn unruly (and spoiled…) personality and mind wanting nothing more than just kento.

and as long as you had him by your side, you didn’t care about anything else.

even when you had only gotten a total of a solid two hours of sleep before you had to wake up for brunch with the monroe’s, you didn’t care about that either, because kento was the one to wake you up with a soft hand down your back and gentle murmurs that slowly eased you awake, him delivering you a warm cup of hot chocolate for the morning because he knew you weren’t the biggest fan of coffee, and the brunch itself not seeming so bad too since you knew he would be there with you through the entire thing.

your newest biggest fear now though… was what your father would say once you told him.

“are these alright for your hair miss y/n?”

you stopped applying your eyeshadow for a moment and turned your body from your bench seat, a tray of cute shiny pearled up bobby pins that you had requested a week prior sitting neat and ready for you, you looking up and smiling sweetly at your housekeeping staff.

“oh yes! these are beautiful thank you!”

she nodded. “do you need help putting these in? or are you okay?”

“i’m okay! if anything i’ll just ask kento hehe.”

she laughed softly, nodding again before placing the little tray down next to you on your vanity desk and turning to leave, passing by none other than kento on her way as he peaked through your door, giving your housekeeping staff a polite smile and allowing her to pass through first, making his way inside your bedroom once she left.

a cup of misty tea was carefully placed next to you on your desk, and you moved your eyeshadow brush away from your face again to see kento looking down at you with a kind grin, you instantly brightening up and scooching down on your seat to give him a little room to sit with you.

“you didn’t have to bring me this ken you gave me hot chocolate this morning!”

your voice was still a bit hoarse, and that’s precisely why he brought you hot tea to begin with, sighing softly through his nose as he sat down on the other side of your bench next to you.

“it’s for your throat honey.” you continued to buff out your eyeshadow, putting your brush away upon finishing and reaching up to fiddle with your bun, taking a few strands out for a more candid look. “how do you feel?”

“horny.”

kento went into a coughing fit and you laughed, his reactions to your ludicrousy always being a favorite of yours as you pecked his cheek in apology.

“sorry sorry—” you wiped the gloss you got on him off of his chiseled cheek, picking up your little tea cup after and taking a sip. “i mean it’s true i want your dick inside of me but—”

“darling.”

“okay!” you set your tea cup down, grumpily took some of your pearl bobby pins from the tray and started sticking them in your hair. “just say you don’t want to have sex with me it’s fine—”

“that is not what i’m saying whatsoever—”

“you refused to have sex with me last night and you’re doing it again right now mph!—”

he clasped a big hand over your mouth and pulled your head in, bringing his lips to your ear.

“there is nothing more i want than to be inside of you and split your warm little cunt open.”

your eyes blew out in shock.

“so enough or you won’t get anything.”

he turned your head to make you look at him directly.

“understood?”

you quickly nodded and he lowered his hand, grabbing one of yours and kissing the back of it before standing and walking to the door.

“your father wants you in the car with me in twenty minutes sweetheart. i’ll wait for you there.”

you watched him click the door shut behind him and you spun your head back around to face the mirror, shakily moving some strands away and quickly fanning yourself in attempts at calming the fuck down, completely thrown off course on what you were supposed to do next in your routine as you couldn’t even remember what you had just done.

because kento had a secret feral mouth that you had no idea of until now…

and you wanted to hear it again.

eventually you gathered yourself up and finished putting the rest of your bobby pin pearls in your hair, shuffling around in your room looking for your chiffon scarf and breathing out a sigh of relief once you caught sight of its pastel yellow fabric, it matching your summery dress and peeking from your bed as you snatched it and looped it around your upper arms, the fabric falling gracefully in a low curve behind you as you grabbed your clutch and made your way out the door.

you didn’t know what energy to exactly expect from the car ride as you trotted down your staircase and out to his car, but you were nonetheless still surprised to see that kento carried on like he didn’t just mutter in your ear that he wanted to rearrange your guts and for you to behave, you blinking at him and perplexed when he just went on about what things to pay attention to that the girls say because he knew your father would ask you about that certain topic later, not wanting you to get in trouble and an earful if you weren’t able to answer his questions about it.

and you were still perplexed upon arriving at the monroe’s estate— their place of living the only thing you really liked about the yearly brunches, as they lived in what looked like a fucking english regency palace instead of the plain modernized mansions you were accustomed to (including yours…), and you couldn’t help but feel a little jealous each year of the wonderful labyrinth the monroe’s had, an endless place of history and poise that your own home very much lacked.

but as beautiful as their estate was, it still didn’t make up for the absolute bitches that lived in it.

“ken if you turn this car around right now i will do absolutely anything you say and not go to any parties for two months instead of just one—”

he chuckled loudly and shook his head, rounding their grand water fountain that sat extravagantly in the center of their lawn outside, other sleek cars already parked in the front.

“it’s just for a couple of hours honey.” he parked the car and turned off the ignition, unbuckling his seatbelt. “just indulge in their conversations for a while… and listen please. your father will ask about it later.”

kento shut the door as you unbuckled your seatbelt, him opening yours on the other side while offering a hand out for you to take, you gratefully doing so with a stoic dead look on your face as you kept your eyes locked to the grabble below.

“they don’t even like me.” you muttered, flashing a polite smile to the housekeeping staff that was waiting up ahead, walking up the steps. “the monroe’s and their girl friends don’t even like each other they’re all just a bunch of fake—”

“y/n!”

both of your heads shot up just as you entered the estate, the eldest of the monroe sisters trodding up to you with a smile.

“it’s good to see you!” her eyes shifted to kento. “and with nanami. of course.”

bitch.

“mhm! yup!” you exchanged polite hugs and stepped back. “are the rest of the girls here?”

“yes they just got here actually! they’re all out in the garden with my sisters i was just heading there now!”

“great! i’ll see myself then, you go on ahead.” you tightly smiled, and she shrugged, bidding you a ‘see you later’ before disappearing off into the depths of her home, you slowly turning around with a stressed out twitch in your eye but faltering when kento wasn’t behind you like you thought he was.

you spun around as your tried to look for him, gaze scanning the area to find him and stopping once you did, your brows furrowing in confusion upon seeing him at the other side of the corridor staring at something.

you slowly began walking down, eyes locked on what he was looking at and it making you stop in your tracks next to him once you got close enough to see.

the wall in front of you was littered with wedding photos of the monroe sisters parents and the generations before— the ceremony, cake cutting, pictures of their first dance, and singular portraits of various brides and grooms on their wedding days scattered about with smiles on their faces, all things kento was just staring at without any indication in his expression that could let you know as to what was going on in his head.

“ken?” you asked softly, and he looked to you.

“oh i’m sorry.” he glanced at his watch. “are you ready to head out into the garden?”

“y—yeah…” your eyes switched back to the wall ahead.

“you were looking at their wedding photos?” you smiled. “they’re cute huh? i look at them too every time we come.”

he nodded, placing a hand on your lower back to lead you away from the wall and towards the garden again.

“i was only curious.” he spoke. “there’s an awful large amount of them.”

you snorted in agreement and continued walking, feeling like there was something he was thinking about and not telling you— you looking to the garden entrance ahead then deciding to take a peek at kento again through the corner of your eye, you suddenly finding him looking over his shoulder at the portraits still.

and your eyes softened.

you slowed down and reached up, gently turning his head from the portraits to you.

“what’s wrong ken?” you looked over at the wall and back to him. “why do you keep looking at the pictures?”

“oh— i didn’t realize.” he readjusted his yellow lensed sunglasses and continued ushering you on with a hand on your back.

you frowned.

“ken you wouldn’t look at something for that long without any reasoning behind it…”

“it’s truly nothing.” he responded simply, the both of you entering the garden now and drawing nearer to the long table set up amidst a bed of roses and daisies, the rest of the girls beginning to take their seats. “enjoy your brunch darling.”

“no! but—”

“it’s alright go say hello—”

“i’d rather actually rot—”

“hello y/n!”

you stopped fidgeting and dropped your arms, another tight smile on your face as you greeted the youngest monroe sister from the table, deciding to ignore kento’s chuckling from behind you and walk up, taking a seat with the rest of them and looking over the extravagantly set up table for anything to stuff your face with— it filled with little pastries and appetizers from top to bottom, a pretty strawberry shortcake cake in the middle surrounded by a tier of cupcakes and scones, little baked sandwich platters, and a porcelain tea cup set at each of your designated seats to enjoy.

you lightened up a little over all of the cute details and selections, forgetting that the monroe’s always knew how to put on a lovely brunch for all of you every year as you extended an arm, grabbing the nearest tea pot and carefully pouring the steaming liquid in your cup.

“girls! just the other day my father bought me another set of those diamond jewels from the franziska’s!”

that’s why you’d always forget.

the rest of them gushed and looked around the table to the eldest monroe, her neck clad in a pretty diamond necklace with matching earrings and rings.

“i know right? i had lost my previous set while swimming in the lake and my staff couldn’t find them.”

“oh that happened to me once.” one of their girlfriends piped up. “it was an exclusive emerald set from europe… only one in the entire world made!”

the rest of the girls gasped and murmured.

“i had my staff looking in the lake all day and night for three days until one of them finally found it!”

“oh thank god!” the middle monroe sister breathed out. “i would’ve absolutely hated to lose those! especially since they’re a one of a kind!”

“mhm yup! and you know what else actually? just the other day i found out francis— you know the girl from the faltis family?”

the girls faces turned knowing and they eagerly nodded.

“i found out she was asking up and down various jewelry shops and makers for my emerald set!”

they all gasped.

“you’re kidding!”

“no! the girl either wanted to copy me or make the same exact set to still copy me.”

“oh! that sleazy—”

you completely tuned them out beyond this point, your brain literally pulsing with the stupidest shit you had ever come across to hearing in your life, choosing to sit there and enjoy the weather and pretty cherry blossoms around you as you ate a cranberry scone and thought about the things you wanted to do for the weekend.

it’s not like you were a total opposite from the rest of the girls.

you too liked jewels and pretty things, luxury branded vehicles and a little bit of gossip here and there.

but it was the way they talked about it and handled each thing was what aggravated you the most.

they were ungrateful, greedy, and bitchy— no other girl that was a loose connection from them allowed to have the same jewelry set as theirs, the same set of friends as theirs, or the same set of dresses for your monthly bashes and dinner parties as theirs, turning utterly nasty if they so even got a glance of someone else having the same thing as them.

all things that were pointless and unrighteous to be upset about.

and just for the sake of keeping your father from putting your head on a stick, you remained civil with them and refrained from wearing anything similar to theirs at an event if you knew they would be in attendance.

but it was easy, for your taste was completely different than the lot of them, and you preferred pearls anyway over any kind of diamond or emerald or sapphire jewel piece.

“oh! and you know what i heard?” another girl friend spoke up. “akio from the corvus family has a little crush on miss y/n over there!”

kento’s ears perked up.

you jumped upon hearing your name, the rest of the girls gushing and ‘ooing’ as they turned their attention to you.

“i’m sorry what? who?”

“akio!” she laughed. “that man is obsessed with you! he asks for you at every single gathering.”

akio?

akio… akio…

“the one that looks like a toad?”

the girls laughed at your comment, covering their mouths or learning forward as you just blinked at them, unaware of how what you said was so funny.

“oh you’re too much!” the youngest monroe waved you off. “yes him! any time he sees any of us at an event he always asks if you’re there with us.”

“you know what yes!” the eldest exclaimed. “i heard he wanted to strike up a proposal with your father! i think he already did!”

you dropped the cupcake you were holding.

and kento froze.

“a— a— propo—”

“oh my god congratulations y/n!”

“lucky you!”

“oh a bride already!—”

you turned in your seat to look at kento, but he was looking the other way, an unreadable expression on his face.

you turned back to the girls.

“is this a rumor or it’s actually happening?” you asked. “i don’t want to get married to him!”

they laughed again.

“why not?! yes he’s ugly but that man is loaded. has money to last him and you entirely without having to work a day in your lives!”

your blood ran cold, because anything you knew that was ordered by your father, was bible.

a housekeeping kitchen staff came around then and refilled a few platters of pastries and appetizers.

“ahh you’re so fortunate y/n!” one of the girl friends gushed. “i’d love to be wed to a man with money like akio… i could care less what he looks like!”

“you can have him.” you quickly sputtered, and they laughed again. “no seriously i don’t want him take him please—”

“oh don’t be silly!” the youngest monroe sister waved you off. “akio wants you. he’s kind of creepy about it too.”

“why me?!” you whined. “i’ve only spoken to him a handful of times—”

“why don’t you ask him at the dinner party you’re hosting next week? i’m pretty sure he’s going!” another girl friend spoke up. “i have a feeling he’s gonna propose to you there.”

you propped your elbow up on the table and placed a hand on your forehead in misery, feeling like you were living in a total nightmare.

“i’d honestly rather go broke.”

they all burst out laughing again.

what the hell was so funny?

“you’re too much!” the middle monroe sister gasped. “just give him a chance! once you see all the things he can buy for you, you’ll change your mind. plus… i think it’d be nice to have a break from mr. nanami don’t you think?”

you picked your head up.

“…kento?”

“uh huh!” the eldest continued. “god that must be exhausting having him around watching over you like that… it’s like he’s babysitting you. must be tiresome for him too.”

babysitting?

“with you and akio’s marriage i’m sure he’ll dismiss nanami’s services, and you can go your separate ways finally!”

“but—”

“and mr. nanami sure is handsome too.” another girl piped up with a hushed voice. “he’ll find a rich girl to settle down with in no time—”

“oh that’d be so great!—”

you abruptly stood, the silverware and tea cups clattering as you did so, the rest of them falling silent.

“sorry. excuse me.” you mumbled, eyes casted downward as you moved around your chair and off to the side, the girls shrugging and uncaring as they proceeded to babble on about other nonsense as you walked ahead, further and further away from the table and the chattering and through the garden, passing by several other flower beds of orchards and sunflowers until you reached the little duck pond by the end of the garden.

you stopped and sighed, bitterly crossing your arms and damning your father for ever discussing something as serious as marriage without your consent, marrying you off basically, or even lacking giving you a god damn warning before you came to brunch today— you and your father both knowing how much of a blabber mouth all of the girls were and how much they fed off of gossip like that.

you felt like a fucking idiot.

and who the hell was akio exactly? you knew of him and kind of had an idea of what he looked like, but you never really paid attention whenever he came up to talk to you at events or parties, his face almost entirely blurry in your mind besides the obvious features he had that did in fact make him look like a damn toad.

and another thing that was obvious too, was how creepy he was.

the only thing the monroe’s shit talking got right.

“honey?”

you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“hi ken.”

the rustling of grass filled the otherwise peaceful ambience as he stepped beside you, the both of you looking out ahead over the sparkling duck pond.

“are you alright?”

you nodded.

“i know you’re not alright i can see it.” he readjusted his lenses. “i’m assuming it has to do with the information the monroe’s told you?”

“i’m being married off ken.” you mumbled, eyes switching to him. “how are you so calm about this?”

“oh i’m not.” he spoke simply. “i’m quite agitated actually.”

you faltered, eyes falling down.

“i’ve always respected your father ever since we were young. and every choice he made with you i always agreed that it was what was best for you.”

you listened.

“but i can’t—” he paused. “… i can’t see how this is best for you. and i don’t know if it’s because i love you and i’m being selfish or if it actually is what’s best for you… so my thinking is— adhered.”

“how can marrying me off like the fucking renaissance period be what’s best for me?” you muttered, and he chuckled softly.

“and i love you, kento.” you continued. “my thinking’s also messed up.”

he placed a hand on your lower back and gently nudged you to him, you complying and falling into his side, wrapping your arms around him.

“it’s your choice y/n.” he spoke softly. “i know akio isn’t… the greatest. but he’s qualified to be your husband.”

your eyes widened.

“what are you saying? what about— what about you?”

he looked down, a sad smile on his face.

“i’ll stay for as long as you need me sweetheart.”

the ducks fluttering wings from the pond ahead filled the silence, tranquil splashes of water that followed after their every move with little quacks and hoots.

“so you’re just gonna give me away.” you mumbled. “just like that. easy peasy. who cares—”

“no—”

“i want you to be my husband ken.”

he gave you a deadpanned look.

“darling don’t joke about things like that—”

“oh i’m not joking.” you separated from him, frustration swirling in your chest. “why is it always considered a joke to you when i talk about being with you?”

he paused, sighing a little through his nose.

“i feel incredibly lucky that a woman like you could envision a life with me.” he spoke. “but i’m also aware that i’m very… boring. i’d feel it wrong to tie you down to a life without excitement like the one you live now.”

kento slipped an arm around your waist and brought you back in again.

“akio seems to be more like you… maybe you could learn to get along.”

your lip began to wobble, and kento’s eyes softened.

“sweethea—”

“i don’t care about any of that stuff.” you sniffled, wiping your cheeks. “you of all people should know this—”

“don’t cry please you’ll ruin your hard work—”

kento dug into his blazer and pulled out a little handkerchief, carefully patting down your face.

“yes i like to go out a lot but so what? it’s not something that’s a part of me it’s just something i like to do.”

you took the handkerchief from him and pressed it into the corner of your eye.

“you’re a part of me ken… and i want a life with you, i’ve known since i was freaking sixteen. i don’t need it spelled out for me.”

kento swallowed.

he’d always admired how stubborn you were, because to him it meant a strong mind and an ambitious drive in contrast to the negative connotation that that word seemed to have— things that were absolutely who you were and why he fell in love with you in the first place, and why you were such a gem.

but he worried still that you’d regret it and change your mind.

that he wouldn’t be able to live up to your lifestyle and your wants and needs, and that you’d get bored of him… leaving in the end.

kento doesn’t think he could bare the thought of you leaving him, much like how he couldn’t bare the thought of you marrying akio either.

but if it meant what was best for you, then so be it… except it wasn’t.

he was sure of it.

“you’re a part of me as well.” he murmured. “i’m sure you know that—”

“i don’t.” you grumbled, and he chuckled. “you’re always switching up on me with your rejections and then your confessions i’m confused—”

kento silenced you with a kiss to your lips, his big hands on either sides of your face as your eyes fluttered closed and you leaned into his built frame, your arms snaking around his neck and his bringing you closer by the waist as you tenderly deepened the kiss— soft lips smacking and moving with such love that it almost made you cry again.

“i’m sorry.” he pulled back, whispering against your lips. “it’s completely unfair to you—”

“s’okay ken.” you whispered back, the cutest smile he had even seen in his life on your face. “i’ll forgive you if you keep kissing me.”

“deal.”

your lips mushed up against each others once more, kento breathing you in and relishing in the feeling of your body pressed up against his, his hands slowly roaming around from your waist to your sides— still trying to be respectful of his hand placement until you took one of them and lowered it to your ass cheek with a squeeze, him laughing against your lips.

you were so silly.

silly and bright and spontaneous and beautiful, today another reminder from countless others with your frilly pastel yellow sundress and the pearls in your hair, your entity different from the rest of the women he’d come to know and thankful that he was lucky enough to have grown with you.

to have protected you.

and the both of you were relieved to see that the monroe sisters and their girl friends didn’t seem to care where you two had ventured off to, for you didn’t know how long you were gone either as you approached the table again— the dessert piles, scones, and strawberry shortcake cake nearly nonexistent, you taking a seat again and secretly reapplying your lipgloss since kento had basically sucked it off of your face, your cheeks pinky and the butterflies in your stomach running rampant.

you were glad then that the monroe’s and their minions were such dim witted bitches too, because their level of self-absorption inhibited them from knowing or picking up on any clues of what could have transpired between you and kento in the garden, them immediately going to you upon arrival and chatting up a storm about mindless things again like you had never left the table to begin with.

but all you could think about was what you were going to tell you father about akio.

and you didn’t want to think about it honestly… because you knew there was a strong chance of you getting literally violent and landing yourself in deeper shit with him than ever before.

that didn’t matter either though if it meant being with kento… and for real this time. the thought of simply just him giving you the push that you needed to trudge up your grand staircase once you got home from brunch, kento trailing behind you and pleading with you to take a little breather before going in to speak with your father, but you absolutely done over the situation seeing as he only ever saw you as a thing and not his daughter if he was willing to marry you off like that.

“my love please relax—”

you stopped in front of your fathers study and knocked curtly, ignoring kento’s words.

“come in.”

you pushed down the handle and walked through, kento following close behind you and clicking the door closed as you stepped to the front of your fathers desk, your arms crossed.

“ah y/n. nanami.” he looked up from his documents, eyes switching between the two of you. “how was brunch with the monroe’s?”

“good.” you replied.

“was the food selection still as grandiose as always?” he looked back down at his paperwork.

“mhm.” you crossed your arms. “they had strawberry shortcake cake this year.”

he hummed. “the monroe’s always know how to put on a good event don’t they? for their daughters? and how are they by the w—”

“they’re fine.” you cut him off sharply. “but you know what isn’t fine?”

he eyed you.

“what?”

“that you’re marrying me off to akio—”

he sighed loudly and placed his documents flat on his desk, leaning forward and wringing his hands together to rest on the surface.

“he’s a good prospect.” he began. “he came up to me with some very impressive ideas about the future of my business, and also how much he was interested in you.”

you scoffed. “so this is what the arrangement is about? your business?”

“i thought you would be happy about this?” he extended his hands out lazily. “akio comes from a wealthy background. you’ll be taken care of in whatever you need and he’s qualified to take over my business once the time comes—”

hurt flashed across your face.

“why would you consider akio taking over your business and not your daughter?”

he laughed humorously, shuffling some papers about mindlessly on his desk.

“y/n you can’t possibly think that i’d consider you to take leadership over my business.”

“and why the hell not?”

his eyes narrowed.

“because you’re incompetent.” he spoke harshly. “you don’t know the meaning of responsibility, you’re stubborn, you’re spoiled, and all that you concern yourself with is parties and outings. you think i would allow you anywhere near my business?”

with each insult and jab that was thrown in your face, the blurrier and blurrier your vision got, you desperately trying to blink your tears back and put on a brave front, but finding it difficult when it was your own father that was dumbing you down to nothing.

“you’re not ready for anything like this and i don’t think you will ever be.” he stood up from his chair. “i’m thinking of what’s good for you and you’re being ungrateful yet again with your complaints—”

“sir with all due respect please try to see where she’s coming from.” kento interjected. “i’m sure she has the future of your business in her best interests, but marrying her off to someone she doesn’t know very well is upsetting her—”

“she’s never had any interest in the state of my business son you and i both know that—”

“sir she’s an extremely capable woman and independent i assure you her contribution to the business would serve prosperity—”

your father scoffed. “there is no prosperity with her. all she brings is disorder and foolery and i appreciate you trying to vouch for her but—”

“please if you’d just give her a chance—”

“i’d give you more of a chance over her—”

“then give the company to kento!” you yelled, the both of them snapping their heads to you and kento’s eyes widening. “i could care less what you think of me everything you told me isn’t new fucking information—”

“young lady language—”

“—i’m not here to try and convince you to give me the business that’s not what i’m here for.” you spat. “but don’t you dare stand there and say that i’ve never cared about the state of it when that’s bullshit.”

kento placed a hand on your shoulder and you shook it off.

“give the company to kento.” you repeated firmly. “if you give it to akio he’ll run your business to the ground and you know that.”

“and how would you know he isn’t qualified—”

“are you kidding?” you shook your head incredulously. “akio is a little dumb boy who goes to his daddy for help any chance he gets because he can’t do anything for himself. he puts on a show about how he’s this mature experienced man when he’s nothing but a joke.”

“i thought you said you barely knew him?” your father asked. “where is this information coming from?”

“the monroe sisters.” you spat. “they’re blabbermouths and their opinions are garbage, but their gossip is always truthful.”

it’s how you found out about the arranged proposal after all.

“i’m stubborn, i’m spoiled, i’m too stupid to handle anything for myself i’m helpless— fine. whatever you say but him?—”

you pointed to kento.

“he’s the most qualified for this position and you and i both know that.”

“y/n no—” kento tried to interject again, but you cut him off.

“he’s seen you handle the business since he was fourteen and knows it inside and out and just as much as you do. any task you’ve ever given him he’s gotten it done and more and i assure you that the business will flourish if you give it to him.”

you stepped forward, your father standing there with a neutral expression.

“believe it or not i care about what you worked so hard for to create, and i care about you, and regardless of what you think of me and the fact that you’ve shown me the complete opposite, it’d kill me to see akio ruin all of it.”

you wiped your cheeks and continued as you turned around, making your way to the other side of your father’s study.

“kento’s a good man. everything will be in good hands with him.”

you threw open the door and stomped out.

“and i’m not marrying akio!—”

“y/n return at once—”

“sir i advise you to—”

your father and kento’s words drowned out the further down the hallway you got, tears spilling from your eyes now that you were away from it all as your heels hastily clicked against the shiny marble flooring, quiet sobs racking through your body.

you spouting repeatedly how you didn’t care what your father thought about you was a complete lie.

because you very much did care… you always have. and no matter how hard you tried to prove to him that you were capable of more than just parties and brunches and pearls and pretty dresses and shoes and cars, it was never enough.

you were never enough.

“y/n—”

kento distantly burst out from your father’s study and quickly strode up to you, concern etched all over his face as you shook off your chiffon scarf and chucked it somewhere behind you in frustration.

“my darling—” kento picked up the long piece of fabric and continued on after you. “my darling i’m so sorry—”

“i need to be alone ken.” you sobbed. “i’m sorry too i just need to be alone—”

“i refuse to leave—”

you slammed your bedroom door shut and kento picked up the pace, his eyes big in alarm at the sound of tumbling and thudding in your room as he stopped in front of your door, swinging it open to reveal you on the other side throwing your heels across the room along with several other pairs and things, your pretty pearls and jewels flying as he stood there in shock.

kento caught sight of you picking up your favorite porcelain flower vase amidst your rage to throw, him quickly stepping in and snatching it from you and fighting your thrashing as he held you to himself.

“kento stop it!—”

he placed the vase safely on your vanity desk and spun you around, his arms grabbing your shoulders tightly as he bent down to your level.

“sweetheart breathe please—”

he hurriedly snagged off his cream colored blazer and tossed it off to the side, leaving him in his blue button up and suspenders as he rolled up his sleeves and placed his hands back on your shoulders.

“hey— it’s alright.” his hazel eyes frantically darted over every corner of your face, him snatching off his lenses now and tossing them. “it’s alright breathe for me y/n please—”

you could only sob, your mascara stained cheeks and heartbroken expression crumbling and ripping kento to pieces as he looked at you, his hands coming up to cup and caress your wet face.

“everything he said was the farthest thing from the truth don’t let it upset you like this—”

“no but he’s right he’s right!” you sobbed. “i’m useless i can’t do shit for myself and i’d probably be off somewhere dead in a ditch if it wasn’t for you—”

“do not say things like that—”

“kento you can’t be with me.”

he faltered. “i’m sorry?”

“you can’t be with me it’s embarrassing to be with me you’re better off with someone who’s capable and responsible like you i just bring you down—”

“stop that i’m serious i won’t ask again—”

“no kento you’re not listening!” you cried, your shoulders violently shaking. “you’re a good man. you’re such a good man and you’re way too good for me and i don’t deserve to be with you you can’t keep babysitting me like this—”

“how could you ever possibly say these things about yourself?” he shook his head. “how could you ever say that you’re too good for me when it’s the other way around?”

your eyes narrowed.

“no it’s not don’t give me that—”

“your father is full of shit.”

your mouth snapped shut.

kento never badmouthed your father no matter what it was, and he also never cussed so forceful and purposeful no matter the situation.

“he’s always been too hard on you and too stoic for reasons that i will never understand nor ever agree with.”

he leaned closer.

“do not upset yourself over the things he said any longer and do not worry about your marriage arrangement with akio.”

“ken—”

“do not think about the pearls you just threw over your balcony do not worry about anything— i will take care of it.”

“i—”

“i love you and i will take care of it.”

you continued to cry, letting your body slump wholly against his as he caught you and held you tight.

“please.. i beg you darling to believe me when i say that you are the most capable woman i know.” he spoke against your ear, his chest aching over your soft sobbing. “you’re witty and you’re intelligent and you’ve come so far simply because of who you are and the way you carry yourself. it’s a shame your father can’t see that.”

“no one can see that—”

“i can see it. everybody else can see it too and i’ve been around you all my life to testify for it.”

you sniffled, burying your face in his neck.

“believe me my love…” he ran a soothing hand down your back. “you’re everything. you’re an asset. don’t let your father’s words take that away.”

you sniffled a little, standing there silent as your hiccups and sobs settled down gradually, your heart beating prominently against your ribs at kento’s sweet murmurings and affection, because though your fathers actions and decisions were bible, so were kento’s words.

he was a good man.

“thank you.” you mumbled, and he nodded, gently guiding you to your bed to sit.

“i’ll take care of you sweetheart.” he pulled back and placed a soft kiss to your lips. “i promise you.”

you smiled a little, a small warm gleam in your eyes as you sniffed and nodded.

“okay ken.”

words didn’t need to be said between the two of you to know the unconditional love you both had for each other, one that was born and bred and made a fact upon your lives crossing paths through fated connections, and strengthened from the day kento decided to be your bodyguard and protect you with everything that he had.

and words didn’t need to be said between the two of you as you both fell in each other’s soft embraces either, kissing with lingering hands and bated breaths as kento delicately laid you back on your bed after a moment of soft chattering, him making sure you were okay, and scattering hungry open mouthed kisses on your jaw and neck and your body language alone with your needy whines enough of an indicator to him that you needed all of him, just as much as he needed all of you, his calloused hands undressing you and worshipping your bare body and everything that you were.

skin to skin contact that was hot to the touch, your arms that barely reached around his broad built shoulders trembling as kento made love to you that night, foreheads resting against each others as he pumped slowly and intimately in and out from inside you, your gasps catching themselves in your throat and him moaning with every thrust and snap of his hips that sent you down a ditzy fucked out road that you never wanted to back track from.

and kento treated you like a delicate little pearl all while at the same time desperately marking and bruising you up with hickeys and bites, afraid from the start that he would accidentally cross the line and hurt you due to his size, but you reassuring him with your perfect smile and pretty face while whispering sweet nothings in his ear as he filled you full, him swallowing you whole and man handling you so much to the point where he had to have you biting down on his tie to keep you quiet while he fucked you senseless.

everything about it was meaningful and cherished and nothing like you’d ever experienced before in your life— a night you wanted to remember for as long as you lived and prayed that you got to repeat over and over again… with him.

with kento and kento only.

he was the only man capable of simmering down your tears and making you feel so much better about a situation as horrid as the one that transpired, and he was the only man that was capable of getting you to listen when you didn’t want to, an incredible talent in itself that spoke volumes in how much of a gentle and kind and reliable person he was… and you only hoped that you provided him with things of the same caliber.

and the thought of that only amplified upon you waking up to find that kento wasn’t next to you in your bed the next morning… when you clearly remembered falling asleep in his big arms the night before.

you slowly sat up, one tired eye peeking over at the vacant spot next you and around the room, finding nothing and honestly feeling a little down about his disappearance as you groggily got out of bed.

maybe he went to eat breakfast? or get a cup of coffee?

you continued on anyways with your morning and freshened up for the day, your legs nearly giving out and sore in the shower due to the pounding he gave you— skin tender and purple under the running water and you loving every mark, shrugging and getting ready quicker than normal so you could finally see kento downstairs to share a little smooch or two with him.

you zoomed through styling your hair and doing your makeup before spritzing a bit of perfume, not bothering to locate your phone before you opened the door to your bedroom and stepped out, bidding your usual good mornings to your housekeeping staff as you skipped down the grand staircase and over to the kitchen, a place he was usually at if not already with you in your room.

but he wasn’t there.

and you frowned.

where was he?

you spent a total of thirty minutes looking for kento— practically turning your mansion upside down and even sticking your head in rooms you had never stepped foot in before, your mind fucking confused and worried that you couldn’t locate him anywhere and that your staff didn’t even know where he was when you asked, for him doing something like this was completely unheard of.

upon going back upstairs, you speedily walked past your fathers study and stopped.

could he be in there…?

but your father was for sure in there, and you couldn’t stand the thought of speaking or even looking at him at the moment without fury clouding your judgement again.

but kento could be in there…

you took a deep breath and walked back to your fathers door, hesitantly knocking gently.

“come in.”

you pushed the door open and stepped in, closing it behind you before turning around and shoulders slumping when you didn’t spot him in here either.

dammit.

“good morning.” your father spoke. “what can i do for you? it’s rather early for you to be stopping by.”

“oh yeah sorry i just—” you played with the ends of your hair. “i was just looking for kento… i thought he might’ve been in here.”

he shook his head.

“he’s not. he left.”

you froze.

“he— what?”

“he left.” you father repeated. “nanami stepped down from the position of being your bodyguard earlier today. he left a couple of hours ago.”

what the fuck?

“i don’t—” you tightly gripped the table next to you, balancing yourself. “i don’t understand—”

“you’ll be assigned a new bodyguard within the next coming week—”

“did he say why?” you breathed out. “did he say anything at all?”

your fathers eyes scanned you.

“amongst various other things, he said he simply couldn’t fulfill that position anymore.”

“did you fire him?!”

he scoffed. “don’t be ridiculous y/n i would never do something like that to nanami. i tried to get him to reconsider.”

holy fucking shit.

kento quit? kento left? kento left you?

it didn’t make any sense. nothing about it made sense to you this— this wasn’t like him at all—

“like i said you’ll be assigned a new bodyguard soon i just need to finalize nanami’s paperwork—”

you swung open the door and ran out, your eyes already filling with tears as you pushed through your housekeeping staff and ignored their beckoning and calls, you bursting through your room and throwing everything around to try and find your phone through your heaving and panic.

why did he leave you? was it something you did?

did he finally realize you were nothing but a useless spoiled girl?

you hurriedly wiped your eyes and kept looking, transitioning from your bed over to your vanity desk and knocking over everything to try and find your stupid phone to call him, some of your expensive bottle of perfumes clattering and spilling and you not giving a rats ass about it as your tears increased in intensity, about to run out of your room and get in your car to literally drive around your fucking city to look for him until you snapped your head up.

a small yellow sticky note sat stuck to your mirror.

you stopped, dropping the items you were holding and stepping closer— pulling the note from its position and bringing it in.

i’ll be in the garden waiting for you when you wake up.

kento.

you hiccuped and wiped your eyes again, kicking the clothes you had thrown about in search for your phone (that you still couldn’t find) as you hurriedly left your room and trudged down the hall, confusion and hurt suffocating your head over the information you had just learned about him and his leave, you reaching the bottom of your staircase and rounding through various hallways and lounge areas to get to the entry way of your little garden, one that wasn’t exaggeratingly massive like the monroe’s, but one that was a great size and that you loved with everything in you— various flowers and herbs planted by yours truly as you periodically took care of them from time to time.

and sure enough, as promised, kento was standing at the end of your garden, his back turned to you as he overlooked the acres of land your father owned that stretched beyond the premises of your rosey labyrinth, him dressed in a casual yet dressy tight long sleeve sweater and dress pants— a sight you weren’t used to seeing at all as you always saw him in a full blown suit everyday without fail.

kento heard the soft rustling of grass and he slightly turned, a soft smile stretching across his chiseled face until he caught sight of your tear stained cheeks and pissed off expression, his face dropping and brows pinching.

“honey what’s wrong?” he walked over to you and you glared. “why are you looking at me like that?”

“you quit.” you muttered, already annoyingly feeling your waterworks trigger again. “my father said you gave up your bodyguard position.”

“oh.” his shoulders relaxed, and his nonchalance only further pissed you off. “i did my love yes—”

“why.” you pushed. “why are you leaving i don’t— i don’t get it did i do something wrong? i—”

“what?” he shook his head and took your hands in his. “no dear god no you didn’t do anything.”

“then why are you leaving?” you sniffed, and kento wiped a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb.

“i told your father i love you.”

you stiffened.

“he wasn’t very pleased.” he continued. “i figured he wouldn’t be… but he didn’t make me step down from my position darling, i chose to do that.”

you blinked confusedly.

“but why?”

“i don’t want to be paid for something that i was born to do as your man.” he smiled warmly. “it didn’t feel right to me… and i don’t want to be labeled as that anymore either.”

he wiped away your remaining tears.

“i want to only be known as yours now. not your bodyguard or anything else in between.”

you were left speechless, unmoving and rigid at everything he was saying.

“however… your father did make me choose between you and the business.”

your brows furrowed, taken aback.

“the— the business?—”

kento nodded, a content smile still on his face.

“he was impressed by what you said yesterday sweetheart.”

you scoffed. “what that his words were bullshit and that he doesn’t care about me—”

he laughed, little crinkles in the corners of his eyes as he shook his head.

“he was satisfied to see that you weren’t angry about not getting the company for yourself, but because he was going to give it away to someone who wasn’t qualified to maintain it.”

you pursed your lips.

“he was offering it to me in exchange for letting you go. i refused immediately.”

your eyes shot up.

“kento no i— fuck—” you looked around exasperatedly. “this is your dream! this is everything you’ve ever wanted i feel horrible for taking that away i don’t—”

“sweetheart don’t be stupid.” he chuckled. “i thought i made it clear enough that you’re everything i’ve ever wanted… not some business. i don’t need any of that. just you.”

your eyes softened.

“are you sad at all?”

he shook his head and gently kissed your forehead.

“i’m the happiest i’ve ever been y/n.”

and that was the truest of truths.

kento was truly and incandescently happy, no longer tied down and restrained by his inner monologues of former idiotic confusion, or jugglings of what was best for you and whether you should be with him or not no longer standing in the way either as he finally welcomed the fact that yes— a woman as gracious and lively and stunning as you could indeed love a simple man like him, an absolute privilege and honor to have someone as special as you want a life with him in it that he just couldn’t understand how his feelings were ever considered confusing to start with.

for him thinking of nothing but you and his occupation as your protector and your guide, a job that he saw himself doing beside you until his very dying day, was all simply a mask of him thinking out the rest of his life with you in the form of work.

and it was so clear that he loved you. so much.

how could he not? how could the way he stared at the monroe’s generational wedding portraits and photographs, swapping their faces out with his and yours, and his constant weighings of ‘if she was mine’ and ‘does she actually feel the same way’ from before not already give away enough that he loved you?

but it was even clearer now, with him giving up the opportunity to build and nourish a reputable business like he’d always aspired to do, turning it down without so much as a blink because he wanted you and you only, not feeling an ounce of regret in his body and knowing that he never will.

kento was looking forward to spending the rest of his days with the woman that he’d always envisioned it with— the forbidden heavenly fruit that he had deemed impossible to reach and wrong to even try, him unknowing of the fact that that same glistening fruit sat dangling and waiting as it would only ever let itself be harvested and picked by him… for kento was the one who planted and had been nurturing it for as long as it could remember.

planted it… nurtured it… kept it safe.

kept you safe.

and funnily enough, another individual was also looking forward to seeing your life with kento unfold… your father— curious to see how exactly two opposites became compatible, and when it was that the two of you fell in love as it managed to wholeheartedly slip past his radar completely when most things didn’t.

had he really been this absent in your life?

… though regardless if he was or wasn’t, it was too late to dwell on it now, seeing as you were a grown woman and capable and your father was grateful that you at least had a companion with you through the many days he wasn’t, and an honorable man such as kento— taking care of you and guiding you through every step of your life when he didn’t even need to be asked, his willingness to do it and overlooking your reckless habits reading numbers to your father.

and even more so now as he leaned against his studies stone balcony ledge from above, it overlooking the entirety of your garden plus the acres of land he owned during the annual dinner party he put on for the business, kento sitting peacefully on a lawn chair with you in his lap while drinking glasses of sparkling champagne, soft echoing laughs and giggles heard from below as you enjoyed each others company away from the bustling crowds and nosy relatives.

it was a pleasing sight, to say the least.

and it was exactly why your father was going to give his business to kento when the time came, because when given the choice between gluttony and love, kento chose love.

he chose you.

“i’m thinking of planting tiger lilies soon.” you hummed, your head resting on kento’s shoulder as he delicately ran a hand down your back, sipping his champagne. “it’s almost their season… right?”

“i believe so, yes.” he nodded. “i think that’s a great idea.”

“thanks!” you cheesed, running the tip of your index finger absentmindedly over the rim of your glass. “will you help me? i need your big manly arms to carry the soil out from the flower shop tomorrow hehe.”

he chuckled, tracing his fingers gingerly over your upper arm. “i’ll pick it up for you in the morning sweetheart. don’t concern yourself with it.”

you smiled to yourself, cheeks warm as you pressed a kiss to his cheek in gratitude.

“i am concerned about something else though…”

his brows pinched, lowering the glass from his lips and looking at you in concern.

“what is it?”

“when we’re gonna pick our wedding date—”

kento laughed boastfully and shook his head, setting down his champagne glass on the little table next to him and settling his hand over your thigh, the material of your classy black dress smooth under his touch.

“you asked me this just last night my love.”

“okay so?” you grinned. “you don’t want me to be your precious wife? the birth giver of your offspring?—”

“i never said that—”

“because i could y’know.” you caressed his jaw with your thumb. “i could be your wife and be the mother of your children… isn’t that what you want?”

with all of his heart.

“it’s what i want at least.” you pouted, and kento smiled handsomely, the vision of you soaked in the rays of the setting sun before him a lethal one as he felt his heart rattle against his chest.

“me promising to take care of you has marriage included above all else my love.” he spoke gently. “you will be my bride someday, i assure you.”

you stared at him warmly, your cheek falling to rest against his as you placed your hand on his chest and over his white crisp button up.

“i also assure you that you’ll continue to be happy and protected, alright?” he squeezed your thigh. “just because i’m not your bodyguard anymore doesn’t mean my duties are done with.”

you nodded against him, the slight prickling cold wind brushing against your skin as the stunning sun continued to set.

“you’re a good man, ken.” you murmured. “and i love you.”

and that was another truest of truths.

because as he reiterated that same three worded phrase back to you and held you closer to his built frame, grabbing his blazer from the arm rest and draping it over your goose bumped filled shoulders, and with a tender kiss to your lips?

it was obvious that kento nanami was born and raised to be just that.

a good man.

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