#Kento Nanami

[slvttyplum]

pervy neighbor nanami that purposely knocks on your door when he hears you're in the shower so he can be greeted with you in a robe.

pervy neigbor nanami that puts his ear against the wall to hear your moans when you're touching yourself.

pervy neighbor nanami that finds excuses to go inside your house.

pervy neighbor nanami that hugs you goodbye to sneakily touch your ass.

pervy neighbor nanami that lurks on your social media.

pervy neighbor nanami that gets off on the thought of fucking you every time he see's you.

pervy neighbor nanami who cums in the underwear he stole from you.

pervy neighbor nanami that purposely gives you bad advice about the people you date so that he'll have a chance with you.

pervy neighbor nanami that jerks off in your bed when he's housesitting for you.

pervy neighbor nanami that keeps finding ways to touch you even when its not warranted.

pervy neighbor nanami that gets hard every time he hears your voice, even if its through the walls.

pervy neighbor nanami that gets off to the way your bed squeaks and your moans echo through the walls when you have sex, imagining its him making you feel that way.

this has been marinating in my drafts for a month

[whoishotteranimepolls]

[isabella365daysayear]

LOLLLL THIS IS SO FUNNY 😭😭 AND CUTE I LOVE NANAMI!!!

It was an average Monday morning when you, Nanami Kento's wife, were turned into a cat.

"An unusual Curse," Shoko had said, "not longer than a week, surely--"

"Not--not longer than a week?!" Kento spluttered, his glasses lopsided, and, dangled in front of him beneath the arms (legs-- legs, he reminded himself)...you.

You, with two pointed ears, a long whippy tail, your many toe-beans and a perturbed little head-tilt. On the doctors' office couch, a neatly folded (if a little furry) pile of your clothes.

"Meow," you had said.

"Don't 'meow' me," Kento spluttered again, fixing you with a stern look that barely overlaid his concern. You simply stared up at him, long, and feline, and unblinking...and reached out one little paw, pressing it onto the end of his nose.

Kento sighed; a bone-deep, weary sigh. Shoko put out her cigarette, speaking through a haze of smoke.

"Like I said. Give it a week, and Mrs.Nyanyami will be back to nor--"

"What did you just call her?'

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Mrs.Nyanyami, the cat formerly known as Nanami Kento's wife, wanted for nothing.

"I think that tuna's more expensive than anything I've ever eaten," whispered Yuuji to Gojo. On the other side of the conference room, you sat upon the desk before Kento, waiting patiently for the next lump of tuna (meticulously cut into cat-appropriate cubes) to be delivered in his chopsticks.

As Kento's hand approached, you held it close with paw and claws, to steal the pink fish from him. He looked like a surgeon performing heart surgery.

"I just...dont know how he can look so serious while he's doing that," Gojo whispered back, to Yuuji's frantic nods. Still, they watched this freakish nature documentary with quiet obsession.

A higher-up sat down beside Kento, waiting for the meeting to begin. Jolting back, and grumbling, he did a double take.

"Young man-- you can't bring a cat to a Sorcerer's meeting--"

"That's not a cat," Kento snapped, frosty, "that's my wife."

And so began the rumour amongst the higher-ups, that Nanami Kento had gone mad.

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"You should leave her at home--"

"--absolutely not--"

"--really, Nanami...just put the television on, she'll be fine--"

"--unequivocally, no--"

"--why not?!"

Silence. An awkward shuffle on Kento's thick chest. You peeked your head out of the pocket of the cat-carrying hoodie that Kento wore over his shirt and tie, and turned to Gojo with narrowed eyes.

"Meow," you had said, batting at Kento's strings, and hooking his tie out with your paw, to kick it to death with your legs.

"I agree," said Kento, whispering and scratching you beneath the chin until you purred, "he's wrong, isn't he? Stupid Gojo. You'd get lonely. You'd get bored. Yes you would..."

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"Oh my god...he's gorgeous...you should get his number--"

"--I'm not brave enough...you go. I'll get our coffees."

"--okay, okay..." The woman cleared her throat, sweeping her hair behind one ear with her best smile. Kento looked up from his coffee, with one finely raised eyebrow.

"Can I help you?" He lied, unwilling to help anyone at all before he'd finished his croissant.

"Hi, yeah, I just...can't help but notice you're sitting alone, and my friend-- well she-- she just wondered if she can have your number, and--"

The woman broke off into shrieks. Climbing up her leg, all claws and furry vengeance, was you. She shook her leg, shrieking. You hissed. Your cup of steamed milk clattered over the table, slopping everywhere.

"--o-oh my god-- oh my god, what the hell is this cat doi--"

"I'm sorry," Kento sighed, not sorry at all and dabbing his mouth with a napkin and doing absolutely nothing to help, "it's my cat. She doesn't like company--"

Hisses. Claws. Dirty feral yowls.

"Get this fucking thing off me--"

"I can't take you anywhere. No more steamed milk for you."

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At times, you seemed so human. At others, undeniably cat.

Kento would wake to clattering from the kitchen, bleary and feeling around for you, only to remember, and trace his hand up to the furry, round little patch you'd leave behind on your pillow. He allowed himself just a moment of misery, before getting up.

He followed the sounds of cups and kettle and coffee machine, and leaned against the doorway with sleep-mussed hair and a squinting, teenagerish glare.

You were up on the counter, all four paws and determination. You had gotten as far as switching the kettle and coffee machine on, and heaving the cupboard open with your tiny limbs. Kento watched as you tipped your head sideways, managing to drag two mugs out in your teeth. He winced as they almost smashed upon the counter.

"Come on," Kento rumbled, his voice rusty with sleep, "let me do that."

You meowed at him, batting at the air with one angry paw when he stepped closer. Kento huffed, raising his hands in surrender.

"Fine," he tutted, "but I'll pour the water."

"Meow."

"Why? Because you don't have opposable thumbs, darling."

The fur stood up along your spine. You turned around, and around, in a circle, then sat upright. You turned your back on him while you waited for the kettle to boil. Your tail flicked from side to side, irritable. Kento waited, too, reaching out one hand to stroke your ears.

You nudged your back paw out, and pushed his mug off the side to smash on the floor.

Silence.

"...what is wrong with y--"

"Meow."

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Skitterskitterskitter.

Distant meows.

Kento groaned, rubbing down his face. He checked the clock, frog-blinking; two in the morning. He groaned harder.

Skitterskitterskitter.

Thunk.

More distant meows.

"Please just come back to bed," Kento moaned into the hands pressed over his face.

SkitterskitterskitterSKITTERSKITTER-- rustlllleerussstle--

Directly over his face.

"Meow--"

"I am begging you--"

RustlerustleTHNKskitterskitterskitter.

Distant meows.

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"I miss you."

You raised your head to look at him. Your purring hitched. Your ears tilted.

Kento had murmured, his low voice barely audible. The only light in the living room was the ever-changing light of the television screen. Laid on his back on the sofa, with you curled on his chest, Kento stroked down your back with longing.

You crept up his chest, pressing your cold wet nose to his, and purred. Nose to nose, and cross-eyed, Kento could have cried.

"I really miss you," he repeated, swallowing around the lump in his throat. Your claws dug into his chest, just a little. You rub, rub, rubbed your warm furry head along his jaw until he sniffled, and gave a choked little chuckle.

He fell asleep with you on his chest that night. In so many ways, it was familiar; home. In so many others, you were gone forever.

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"Meow."

Kento shuffled. His chest felt heavy...warm. His belly felt warm, too. And his lap, and--

Kento's eyes shot open, his head lifting up from the couch.

You bit your lip, naked on top of him, and smiling. Human. An angel.

"Oh, my love," Kento moaned, crushing you to him in a bear hug from shoulder to toes, "you're back-- I missed you, I was so worrie--"

You batted an arm out, swiping last night's wine glass from the coffee table beside you, to shatter on the floor.

Silence. Kento blinked slowly, looking from the wine glass, to you. You felt your cheeks grow hot, swallowing hard.

"God, I...sorry, Kento. Force-- force of habit--"

[mysteria157]

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black!Fem Reader

Rating/CW: explicit sexual content, cowgirl, vaginal sex, light bondage, power dynamics, teasing/edging, sweating Kento out because that's what I love most, established relationship, MDNI!

WC: ~5.9K

Summary: What happens when you playfully suggest a new dynamic in the bedroom? Utter torment for Nanami, of course. What else is new?

a/n: The writer's block has been absolutely atrocious, but I was able to break free of its clutches with this. Is it Sheriff Nanami? No. But it is smut that's been sitting in my mind so long that it gave me a fever. So...here ya go lol.

Ao3 | JJK Masterlist | Divider: @cafekitsune @strangergraphics | Part Two | network tag: @pixelcafe-network

©mysteria157, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, modify, or translate (without permission) my work to other accounts and platforms.

The silk of his favorite tie is familiar to him—the way it slides through his fingers each morning when he gets ready for work, the weight of it loose around his neck as he shaves, the pop of black against gold in his reflection when he secures it beneath his collar. But it’s never quite felt like this—wrapped snugly around his wrists, rumpled and stretching with every pull of his hands, growing damp with sweat from his wrists as he watches you ride him within an inch of his life.

Nanami hisses, dark blonde eyebrows pitched deep in concentration as he gazes up at you. His usually immaculate hair is a mess, flaxen strands plastered to his forehead with sweat that trails down his neck like a lover’s caress, slipping beneath his shoulder blades to soak into the sheets of your shared bed.

“I’ve changed my mind,” he grits out. He means to sound indignant, frustrated in light of what he’s gotten himself into, but his body tells a different story. His hips itch to cant upward, fingers clench like a madman for purchase into your skin, jaw clicking as he grinds his teeth against mounting pleasure.

You snort as if the very thought of conceding is laughable. The consistent jump of your hips stops, the action shooting a flare of want up his stomach. Your fingers flex on his chest, pressing further as you lift your hips up and up, exposing more of his wet cock to the cool air until just the tip remains encased in your heat. He yanks at the restraints before he can stop himself, a silent plea that makes you smile.

“Are you sure?” you tease, rotating your hips, and the feel of it makes his eyes cross. “If you’re not comfortable, Ken, we can stop.”

The thought of stopping makes his cock throb traitorously, even as his body feels flayed open, every nerve ending exposed and singing. He did agree to this, after all. 

It was meant as a joke. Just a random comment you made three mornings ago while fixing his tie like any other day. Like always, Nanami used those precious moments before departing for work to drink you in—his own private ritual of worship. The gentle sweep of your eyelashes as you focused on his Windsor knot, the way the morning light caught the rich undertones of your melanin-kissed skin, that unconscious purse of your lips that made him want to be late every morning. 

“You ever thought about letting me tie you up?”

The question struck him like a match against kindling. Nanami is not really the adventurous one in the bedroom—that’s your domain, and he follows willingly where you lead. But the thought of being at your mercy, of letting go of his ingrained control to watch you take whatever you want from him, had his ears ringing. It was something about the way you wouldn’t meet his eyes, the subtle dip of one side of your cheek as you bit down on it, the want radiating from you like heat from a flame…

When it comes to you, he will try anything once. 

A joke that became an agreement. An agreement turned into tonight—you in that devastating dress over dinner, his fingers leveling enough strength not to shatter the wine glass he drank frivolously from as he watched you toy with your necklace, knowing what was to come. An agreement turned into a frantic mess of hands undoing zippers and buttons, of smoothing along the soft planes of your inner thighs before his mouth feasted on the pearl in the center, of you giggling like a wanton feign as you wrapped his wrists and notched them to the bed frame. 

Just a joke. Just an agreement. Now, here he rests, on his back, on fire, and subtly regretting his choices because he’s a selfish man who wants all of you all the time. And Nanami, like the fool he is when it comes to you, truly thought he could bear it. 

“Focus, Ken.”

An absolute fool.

“I’m not uncomfortable. But you’re hardly playing fair.”

You never do. How could you? You’re divinity made flesh, mischief molded from clay—a goddess who delights in reducing him to prayers and pleas. He loves you, desperately so, and has long since accepted that his soul will forever chase the wonderful chaos you bring to his carefully ordered world. 

“What could you possibly mean?” you’re coquettish in your question, biting the corner of your lip in that way that makes his spine straighten. His eyes linger on that lip, remembering how it feels beneath his thumb, against his tongue, between his teeth.

“Darling—”

He doesn’t get far. Before the rest of his words can leave his mouth, you’re dropping back down onto him, enveloping his cock in a blistering heat so intense it borders on religious experience. Every nerve ending ignites at once, pleasure searing through him like a brand.

“No talking.”

And isn’t that funny? Because any words Nanami has disintegrated into a powdery mist seconds ago. So, of course, Nanami has no choice but to bite the inside of his cheek until he can taste coppery tang, pulling at his restraints for the nth time of the night and wishing in this very moment to be oblivious to the sounds of your wanton moans that echo in the air.

Nanami’s groan starts deep in his chest, reverberating through him like a growing monsoon as you lean forward, trailing your nose along his throat. Your scent—Shea butter and feminine heat—fills his lungs like incense, a temptation he can’t answer, a shrine he cannot appreciate despite every cell in his body screaming to touch.

“You agreed.”

“To the restraints, not torture.” He can hear the hitch in your breath, that light choke as you try to hold back a laugh. Your hips give another sensual twirl, and Nanami can hear the clench of his teeth. “I want—I need to touch you.”

“Come now, Kento,” you coo in his ear, sliding your tongue along his lobe before you bite down into the cartilage. He grunts, flinching back even as his cock twitches inside of you. “You married me remember? Surely you know my ways.”

“My love—” You twirl your hips again and again and again. Each swivel is representative of a slow churn of his rapidly loosening arousal. 

Nanami has always been spellbound by your beauty. From the moment his eyes open in the morning to the moment they close at night, you are all he knows. The curve of your smile makes his heart beat faster, the music of your laugh fills his stomach with butterflies. Without intention, you undo him.

Even now, bouncing on his cock like the vixen you are, you are ethereal. Your box braids sway with each movement, catching the artificial light as they brush across your shoulders that gleam with exertion. Sweat has transformed your baby hairs into delicate curls against your temples and hairline, giving you an almost feral beauty that makes his mouth run dry. 

That’s what makes it all the more painful for him. The way sweat slides down your brown skin, the pebble of perspiration along the curve of your stomach, the hypnotic sway of your breasts as you take what you want, it all beckons to him. His mouth waters like a starving man at a feast he’s forbidden to partake in. The base of his spine coils with an inexplicable pressure that blooms along his back. The tips of his fingers tingle from the loss of blood from the restraints and with the desire to touch you.

It’s not fair. 

It’s frustrating. Agonizing to the very depth of his soul how badly he wants to reach for you. He’s strong enough to snap these damn restraints—he could easily do it. The image floods his mind unbidden—how easy it would be to snap these ties, to flip you on your back and fuck you so hard you’re crying his name. He can almost feel it—the sharp sting of your nails (freshly done, he notices even in his delirium) scraping down his back as he drives into you without mercy, the way you’d arch beneath him, how your defiance would melt into pleas. His muscles coil with the phantom sensation, his ears echoing the ghost of your cries he could draw from you.

But you wanted this. You’ve asked for a slither of control he freely gives, and he refuses to see a shred of disappointment on your face because he was impatient. 

So he waits. Even though his skin is burning from the inside out. Even though his heart is beating so fast, it feels like his chest might cave in. He waits. His cock feels so tight that he’s almost feverish with worry if he can hold on much longer. The feel of your essence coating his thighs and balls, the sound of your moans, the sight of the column of your throat when you throw your head back.

It’s truly not fair.

“My love, please,” he can’t help but beg. He’s never against begging. Not when it comes to you. Not when it comes to unraveling the knot you easily twist inside of him. Already, he’s backtracking. He reaches up just a little, hoping you’ll grant him some part of you—the smell of your skin along his nose, the taste of your sweat on his tongue, anything.

“No.”

You leave no room for argument, pressing against his chest to force him back into submission. Frustration flares like a demon in his chest, curdling and dying instantly against the want that oozes from him. 

“Come on, Kento,” you chide, moaning breathlessly as you double your efforts. “Don’t you want to give me what I want?”

Of course, he does. But in moments like this, Nanami wishes he were a weaker man because you’re too wet, too hot, too soft, and tight around him. The silk-soft clutch of your body is turning his mind to static.

Just the thought of how you feel around him threatens to shatter his composure. Pleasure pools molten in his lower abdomen, every muscle tight as a bowstring as he fights his body’s betrayal. He hisses through bared teeth, digs his fingers into the silk encased around his wrists, and yanks until the bed frame groans. His control is quickly failing him, your moans a siren’s song in his head urging surrender. His body responds without question—feet seeking purchase on the mattress, thighs tensing as instinct fights restraint. It will only take a second for him to plant his feet and drive up into you until you’re seeing stars.

But you’re faster. You lean forward to slide your hands behind his neck, delicate fingers weaving through the sweaty strands of his hair before you pull tight, angling his head back so his neck is bared to you in willful submission. The sharp difference between your soft touch and the display of dominance makes his eyes roll back, swimming in the viscera of his brain as a broken sound escapes him, his resistance melting away. His heels slide back onto the bed, forgotten.

Your soft lips press at the juncture of his neck, your braids falling around you both like a curtain, the ends tickling his chest. The scent of your coconut hair oil mingles with the Shea from your skin, making his head spin. The feel of your smirk on his neck—victorious—makes his cock throb, a tight rubber band behind his belly button fraying on the edges, warning him that his time is running out. 

You move agonizingly slow with each roll of your hips, sending electricity up his spine, searing his skin everywhere you touch and aching where you don’t. His skin feels too tight, like his bones don’t fit, and the discomfort is as satisfying as it is jarring. He yanks, sweat beading at his temples, sliding down his neck, making everything feel slick and hot and maddening.

When you sit up, you trail your hands down the rigid lines of his straining muscles, admiring the jutting veins and sinew. You hum in appreciation, pupils blown black as you take him in. The small of Nanami’s back arches in just so, preening under your rapturous gaze because he hopes he’s doing well. Even like this—bound and helpless beneath you—his desire to be good wars with his desperation to touch. The praise in your eyes soothes even as it burns.

Look how still he stays for you. Look how good he’s being. 

Nanami’s thighs tremble with the effort not to thrust, not to take, not to claim. Each second stretches like the most painful torture as his mind fractures into desperation—just one thrust, one press of his tongue to your skin, one moment of control. Please. Please. The word burns behind his teeth, unspoken and curdling but screaming like a banshee in his blood. 

“Getting frustrated, Ken?” Your voice is honey-sweet poison, made breathier by your movements. He won’t rise to your taunts; he lacks the strength for it. So he basks in the attention you lavish with your eyes, your silent praise like invisible hands along his skin. Just as quickly, he closes his eyes tight. If he looks a moment longer, this night will have an unfortunate end for you both.

“Look at me.”

Your demand cuts through the haze of his desire, sharp and unyielding. He’s too slow to respond to you, and all too quickly, he feels your fingers dig slightly into his jaw, forcing his surrender as his eyes flutter open. His restlessness must show because there’s that wicked glint in your eyes, and you thrive on his misery, rewarding him with a kiss so quick and gentle that he’s chasing after your lips for more. You press your hands firmly to his chest, a clear command to be still. With no friction, it’s just blistering heat, his cock pulsing, a whimper dying in the back of his throat.

You shift, and Nanami’s ears register a faint click that he catches with his eyes. Your heels, oh, those clear heels, glimmer up at him as you plant your feet on the soft sheets. Delicate clear straps wrap around your ankles like ribbons on a gift he’s held all night and still not allowed to unwrap, the nude leather making your brown skin glow in the dim lamplight. 

The moment you put them on earlier in the evening, they haunted him—from the restaurant to the ride home, the way they made your legs look endless in that dress when you crossed them in the passenger seat. Now, they dig into the sheets on either side of his hips as you use them for leverage, the crystal clear stilettos catching the light like ice. The sheer difference of something so elegant being used in such a primal way makes his breath catch—much like yourself, refined on the outside but capable of reducing him to nothing but baseless need.

“Watch me,” you command. As if Nanami could look away if he tried. Damn you. “Watch how well I ride you while you can’t touch.”

He loathes how the new angle makes his vision swim at the edges, hates even more how each movement strips away another layer of his composure. Every bounce drives him deeper into insanity, making him strain harder against the ties that keep him from you.

“You poor thing,” you coo, the false sympathy in your voice making his upper lip curl, a growl simmering in the back of his throat. “You want to touch so badly, don’t you?”

God. He wants, he wants. He wants with an intensity that frightens him.

You’re a taunting vision above him, and he eyes the champagne-colored dress that’s now bunched carelessly at your waist. It was the perfect compliment for you, silken and caressing your body during dinner while he swallowed his bubbling desire with every generous gulp of red wine. A halter top dress fastened behind your neck that was quickly undone when you pushed him on the bed, your breasts spilling from their lustrous confines.

The hem is rumpled, kissing the tops of your curvy thighs and falling open with your new position so he can see everything between your legs. Dimpled skin that rises up and down, beckoning that he grip your hips and trace your curves with his tongue. 

The wet sound of skin on skin drowns out even his thundering heartbeat, and he can’t decide which is worse—watching you take your pleasure or being forced to listen to how perfectly you use his body for your own needs. That controls splinters, cracks, disintegrates, and flutters like ash in the wind. 

He’s never wished more in this moment for you to tire out, for your stamina to be next to nothing. But no. You knew exactly what you were doing when you fastened his tie three days ago.��

“You ever thought about letting me tie you up?”

Nanami, in his stupidity and endless love for you, saw what he wanted in your eyes. What he mistook for aimless curiosity, was actually calculated, unadulterated mischief. 

Of course, he would agree.

That’s why you punctuated your victory with this dress. That’s why you got your hair done yesterday. That’s why you wore these new heels and lathered your body in the Shea butter lotion he loves so much.

A level of strategy so calculated that Gojo Satoru himself would be envious of its perfection.

God, he loves you. Even as he silently begs whatever entity will listen to him to be free of this prison you’ve created, he loves you beyond reason.

“Poor Kento,” you purr, your words cracking through his spiraling thoughts like a whip. You lean back on one hand, the arch of your back pushes your breasts forward, and his mouth waters at the sight. Every cell in his body strains toward you, pressing beneath the surface of his skin and coagulating into a congealed mass.

But it’s the sight of you spreading your legs wider, of giving him a view of all of you, of your other hand sliding down your stomach that truly threatens to break him. Your fingers find your clit, and the wet sound of you touching yourself while he’s buried deep inside makes his vision blur. Those should be his fingers bringing you pleasure, his touch pushing you toward release. Instead, he can only watch, desperate and aching, as you chase your own pleasure.

“Look how wet I am,” you breathe, and his hips buck involuntarily at your words. He doesn’t even bother to feel shame at the glare you shoot his way for disobeying. “Don’t you wish these were your fingers? Making me feel good?”

“Don’t be cruel.” The ties might actually snap from how hard he’s pulling now, watching your fingers work in tight circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves, your cunt squeezing him like a vice. You’re getting close—he can tell from the way your thighs start to tremble, the way your breath shakes.

Your laugh in response sends searing heat down his spine—musical and breathless and utterly wicked, even though it makes his blood boil. The sound mingles with the wet noises of your fingers working between your legs, the sight and sound of you nearly driving him mad.

“I need—” he chokes on the words as you clench around him in reprimand, his tongue thick in his mouth. “I need to cum. Please.”

“No.” Your voice is firm despite your breathlessness, your fingers never stopping their circles against your clit. “Not until I’m done with you. Can you hold on? Can you be good for me, Ken?”

Good.

A word so simple to a weaker man, but absolute devastation to him. His cock throbs to the increased tempo of his pulse, the festering heat of pleasure pulls behind his belly button, the base of his spine coiling like a snake backed into a corner. His wrists burn from the careful strain of being at your mercy and not breaking free. He’s fighting, but he’s trying—fuck help him, he’s trying to be good for you. 

You purposefully clench around him, tight and hot and perfect, watching his face contort in pain. “Stop,” he growls, the sound raw and anguished in his throat.

Your answering giggle is like a knife to his chest, delighted by his desperation. “Make me,” you challenge, knowing full well he can’t. You do it again, squeezing around him as your fingers work faster. “What’s wrong, Ken? Too much?”

His growl turns into something close to a whimper as you torment him with another deliberate clench. And another, and another, and another. The ties creak ominously, his whole body trembling with the effort to hold back.

“You’re cruel,” he pants, but the accusation only makes you smile wider, your movements growing more erratic as you get closer to your peak.

Every bounce of your breasts, every flutter of your lashes, every rapturous moan—it’s all burning into his memory like an iron on his skin. His hands ache for the soft crease where your thighs meet, where your thick curves swell so perfectly beneath his thirsty gaze. The sheen of sweat between your breasts calls to his tongue, taunting him with memories of your salty taste. Everything within reach, yet forbidden.

Nanami licks his lips, his tongue catching the subtle tang of your fading arousal from earlier in the evening when his face was buried between your thighs. Saliva pools in his mouth with the phantom taste of you. His breath catches in the dry crevices of his throat, gargling on a guttural whimper as he catalogs you in your utter devastation.

The crystal clear heels, purchased on that rainy Saturday when you’d lingered at the store window with wanting eyes. The champagne silk dress now bunched carelessly at your waist, chosen by him because he loved how the fabric made you shiver when you ran your fingers against it at the store last week. Those delicate black lace panties, pushed to one side of your pussy and soaked through, that he’d selected with trembling fingers weeks ago, imagining the many times you’d left them on while he fucked you into the mattress.

The gold chain at your throat catches the light with each bounce of your body, dancing across your collarbones like encapsulated sunshine. He remembers fastening it there for the first time on your anniversary, his lips following the metal’s path. Your body is decorated in diamonds like stars—the studs in your ears, the tennis bracelet on your wrist, the anklet that glints at him from his restraints. But it’s the wedding ring that truly breaks him—that symbol of his eternal devotion joining two other fingers that now press against your clit as you climb higher.

His marks cover you like a map of worship—the jewelry he chose, the silk he bought, the lingerie he selected. Every adornment screams his claim, but his hands remain tied, denied by the very exquisite canvas he’s painted with such adoration.

He sees the faint vestiges of the finish line, that light at the end of the tunnel when your hips stutter in movement and your breathless pants fall into a surprised moan that makes you stop. Your head falls back again, exposing the delicious column of your throat. His gums itch, inner cheeks sweating with saliva with the primal urge to dig his teeth into your soft skin. Your body is normally decorated with little marks from him—bruises from his fingers on your hips and thighs, hickeys on the curve of your breasts, cum dripping from your cunt. But tonight, you’re a blemish-free beauty in appearance, devilish in motivation. 

“Untie me,” Nanami whispers, not bothering to coat the begging lilt in his tone. “Untie me, and I’ll give you everything you want, love.”

Your head rolls to the side with serpentine grace until your dangerous gaze meets his. You’re glaring without any heat, narrowing your eyes in that playful manner that is always preceded by making Nanami’s life blissfully miserable.

You lift your hips slowly, slowly, slowly, and his eyes fall on the inches of his thick cock that become more exposed to the elements. He takes the abundance of your slick coating him, the thin gossamer bands that lengthen from your joined bodies and snap as the distance grows, the subtle flutter of your walls that suffocate him. Then, without warning—you drop. The sudden rush of wet heat around him shoots electricity up his spine and along his molars that he grinds into dust. He moans harshly, deep, and tortured, shaking from his mouth like a staccato as he tilts his head into the pillow beneath him.

“So good,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him, the words falling from your lips like a prayer. “So good for me, Ken. Always so good.”

The praise pierces something raw inside him. His cock throbs with each word, his fingers cramping white-knuckled around the ties as his body screams louder for release. Your movements grow erratic—hips stuttering and the careful teasing you brandished like a sword dissolving into pure need as your fingers frantically rub against your clit. He cranes his head forward just in time to watch you fall onto your knees, planting one hand on his shin while the other chases your orgasm with single-minded determination.

“Such a good boy,” you gasp, and the words feel like salvation against his skin and damnation all at once. “So good, so perfect, letting me take what I need—staying so still for me—such a good boy—”

He’s never heard those words from your lips before, never heard this particular praise, never heard you whisper in such a way that it sounds like you’re in disbelief by his submission. Something fundamental splinters inside him. The veneer that he’s precariously kept around himself all night fractures with each bounce of your hips. Every muscle in his body pulls taut as he watches you, your breathless chant of “good boy” pushing him dangerously close to his limit. 

Your pleasure crests like a tsunami. The bed protests beneath you both, a symphony of creaking wood and flesh on flesh as your hips slam down on him. Your voice rises, tight and pinched fuckfuckfuck's spilling from your lips like a mantra.

Even though he can practically taste his orgasm, his vision tunnels, focusing only on you. He takes in the violent brush of your box braids against your shoulders, the bunching of your stomach, the pebble of tears that gather at the corners of your eyes like the diamonds on your body. Your cunt grips him tighter, so impossibly tight, a velvet vice that threatens to rip his soul from his body.

And then you shatter. Your head snaps back; your jaw drops in shocked ecstasy as his name tears from your throat like a revelation. The sight of you coming undone above him, because of him, despite his restraints, worms itself into his memory. Your walls pulse around him, your fingers rapidly rubbing your clit to draw out your orgasm, milking his cock with an intensity that nearly destroys him. But he waits, trembling on the knife’s edge of his own release until you draw in one shaking breath. 

Then he snaps.

With a sharp crack, the ties give way, snapping from the bed posts but still dangling from his wrists. In one fluid motion, he sits up and scoots to the edge of the bed, gathering you in his arms with barely concealed strength. One hand tangles into the braids at the nape of your neck while the other grips your hip hard enough to bruise.

“You’ve had your fun, love. Now let me have mine,” he growls against your ear, pulling your lobe into his mouth and using the leverage of your body and feet planted on the ground to drive up into your oversensitive and still fluttering heat. 

The feeling of finally, finally being able to touch you after being denied so long makes his head spin. The feel of you along his fingertips is enough to make him spill inside of you prematurely. Instead, he pistons his hips upwards, sliding his tongue along the skin of your neck as his pants dry his saliva on your skin. He’s earned this—earned every whimper, every clench of your pussy, every broken sound you make. Now it’s his to swallow and take as he chases the burning in his lower back.

You’re completely undone from your orgasm, arms draped loosely around his neck, and barely able to hold yourself up as the painful pleasure of over-sensitivity wracks your body. The sound of you in his ear, the press of your cheek on his skin, and the wet feel of what has to be drool on his shoulder, only drives him faster.

Every thrust up makes you whimper, all exposed nerves, and helpless to do anything but take what he gives. The hand on your hip guides you down to meet each drive of his cock, the movement desperate and precise. Control—something he’s prided himself on his entire life—is slipping through his fingers like water with each pulse of your walls around him.

“Perfect,” he pants against your ear, feeling you shudder at his voice, at how it breaks with need. “So perfect for me. Taking me so well even after—” Words fail him, dissolving into a heady groan as pleasure hot like ecstasy builds in his core, a tide rising higher and higher with each thrust. The sight of you so thoroughly claimed, slurred renditions of yes, yes, please, Ken, please sliding into his ear only drives him faster.

“Always teasing me,” he growls, digging his fingers into your hip and punctuating his words with a particularly deep thrust that makes you whine. “You love—you loved it, didn’t you? Making me wait—making me watch?”

Your only response is another broken moan, your body pliant and trembling in his arms, your cunt hot and thrashing around him. He groans softly, kissing your neck once before he digs his teeth into your skin. You yelp from the feeling, clenching around him so tightly that he feels his orgasm creep like a shadow at the edges of his consciousness.

“I’ll have to get you back for this.”

His threat is undermined by the pure devotion in his voice, the way his hand gentles in your hair even as his hips maintain their relentless pace. 

As quickly as his ferocity comes, it fades. He has no more strength to whisper grievances in your ear, no more energy to enjoy your body before he walks to the finish line.

No. Now, he sprints.

That rubber band behind his belly button begins to fray, a thin sliver being held together. The pressure at the base of his spine balloons, pressing against his nerves to make them pulse in time with his thundering heartbeat. His world narrows to only sensation—the wet heat of you, the silk of your skin, the wet smack of his balls against your throbbing pussy, the pounding of his heart against his ribs. He can feel it at the base of his cock, tingling and tight, begging to be let loose and fill you up.

Right there, right there, so close he can taste it on his tongue. His teeth dig deeper into your neck, anchoring himself to you as if he might float away in the thick fog of pleasure. The bed screams, and the broken ties—now a symbol of his freedom—dance along his forearms. But just as he teeters on the precipice, just as he’s about to topple over the edge, you find your strength again. His fierce, untamable love presses fingers into his back, and your lips brush his ear with deliberate wickedness.

“Be a good boy,” you whisper, voice hoarse but triumphant, “and cum for me. Fill me up, baby.”

He’s learned nothing from your devious ways. Those words—though repeated through the night—strike like lightning to his core. Gone is his rhythm. Gone is his control. Nanami’s jaw slackens, a desperate sound caught in his throat as his hips stutter and fail. 

His orgasm punches him in the gut, a moan belting from his throat and mixing with sounds he didn’t know he could make. He crushes you against him as he finally breaks, vision whiting out at the edges, hips snapping erratically as he chases every last spark of pleasure you offer him.

Your name falls like reverent worship from his lips, deep moans sliding along your skin like honey as you hold him through it. He’s lightheaded from you—your breathing on his shoulder, the press of your skin against him, the feel of his cum and your slick sliding between his ass. He relaxes his hold on your hip, smoothing his touch over the crescents in your skin and massaging the muscle, feral need giving way to worshiping love.

Seconds pass, then minutes. His mind slowly pieces itself together, orienting himself to reality as pleasure oozes over his skin like molten lava.

His breath is still evening out when he feels you shaking against him. You’re giggling freely, and he can smell the mischief that leaks from your pores. You’re proud of yourself; like all times when you can make him blush and trip over his words, this is no exception. He pulls back to level you with a look that’s meant to be stern, but your laughter only grows, bright and unrepentant as you card your hands through his loose and sweaty hair. 

He takes the time to admire you, his beautiful wife. Your skin glows in the aftermath of your lovemaking, the subtle sheen of sweat on your neck and breasts beckoning his gaze. The curling baby hairs kiss the tops of your ears, the glint in your eyes shining with endless love. You kiss him softly, giggling against his lips before pulling away to litter kisses down his neck.

“Are you mad at me?” you ask sweetly, a smile evident in your voice as you trail your love along his collarbone.

His hand strokes up your spine, humming softly. “Never. Though you will pay for this, love.” The threat holds no real heat— how could it, when you’re curled against him so perfectly, when your laughter makes his heart feel so full in his chest that he aches?

“Is that so?” you purr, disbelieving but fully prepared for the punishment if and whenever it arises. “I don’t think you have it in you.”

He won’t rise to your taunts. No, Nanami will get you back, and the next time those tears gather in your eyes, it will be because he’s dangled you over the precipice for so long that you won’t remember your name.

But that’s plans for another day.

For now, he’s content to pinch your side in playful reproach and relish in the harmonious giggle you give him. Before he can react, you’re pressing him back into the mattress, claiming his lips in a deep kiss that tastes of the wine that you both had at dinner. He melts into it despite himself, arousal stoking to life as his cock, still nestled in your warmth, twitches inside of you, his hands sliding up your back as he forgives you without words.

Thanks for reading!!

[tsukuhoe]

18. isn't that sweet?

album bonus tracks: — i love kento nanami — gojo is really going through it 💔 — he's cooking something up ⋮ MASTERLIST  ֹ⋮  PREVIOUS  ⋮  ֹNEXT  ⋮

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[sccrim]

warnings ( masturbation , cheating , mentions of oral fem )

your best friends with nanamis wife. & well, he had other thoughts about you then just simply a friend.

part two

you are best friends with nanamis wife. you moved in with them for a while due to your home getting renovated. you were gonna stay at gojos house but your best friend insisted.

as days went by, nanami started paying attention to you. what you wear outside the house, around the house, what you eat, and so forth.

he also noticed you always stayed in your room half the day until the evening or even the whole day. you weren't uncomfortable in the house hold. you just did your work there.

and what i mean is your onlyfans. nanamis wife knew you did that, i mean she is your best friend. nothing wrong with that. it was a side hustle for you especially with your house getting worked on.

nanami decided to stay home for the day while you and his wife went to run a few errands and by that it was getting your nails / toes done. going to target, etc. it was a nice day to be out and you guys didn't want to miss the chance.

nanami walked down the hall to see your room door cracked open. he was going to shut it until he decided to peek a bit. shame on him but hey he was curious. he walked inside and seen how your room was set up. he was honestly shocked how your room wasn't as dirty as he thought it would be since everytime his wife got ready the room would be a mess. full of make up everywhere and clothes.

he saw your laptop screen open and unlocked. notifications kept popping up. ding, ding. he knew this was bad but he was so curious. he saw the website was on only fans. "hm." he whispered to himself scrolling away to see how much money people were paying.

"what do you do y/n." he questioned, seeing little posts of pictures and clips.

nanamis face burning up from seeing a clip of you playing with your pussy. the corner of his eye he could see a pink lingerie set hanging on your chair.

nanami could feel the guilt hit the back of his throat. gulping the guilt knowing that if he looked down, his boner trying to get out his pants. he still scrolled though. curious and curious of what other things you had going on. "fuck." he whispered.

scrolling as he stopped to see a video of you and some other chick that looked exactly like his wife, making out with you. he fully clicked the video to see it was exactly his wife.

what he didn't know was that while he went on a business trip with gojo. his wife and you made a video of doing each other. his wife needed the money and well you knew it would create good content. nanami didn't feel so guilty anymore. both basically cheated on each other.

nanami couldn't help but stare at the video in pleasure to see his wife eating your pussy. the way your best friend was rubbing her clit while eating you out. nanami listening to the way you guys moaned for each other. nanami checking his wife's location to see where they at. you guys where about an hour away. which was good for him.

the blonde man took off his belt and unbutton his pants. pulling his dick out. nanami spitting on his hand and pumping his dick. he watched as you now began eating out his wife. he didn't know rather to be mad that his wife was cheating on him or that you were fucking her. "fuck." he sunk on the chair. watching you two now scissor each other.

nanami wanted the both of you. he wanted to fuck the shit out of you while you ate out his wife. he wanted both of you guys sucking his dick. this was every man's dream and nanami just got front row seats.

nanami moaning seeing you suck on his wife breast. he began to whimper coming to his climax. he hears you tell his wife your about to cum and his wife the same. nanami pumping faster. him hearing your guys moans and see your bodies shake made him release his cum too. him trying to catch his breath.

nanami hurrying up to clean himself and out everything back the way he found it. closing your door and going into his room.

"honey, we’re home."

ps. lwk was thinking of doing a part 2 of like a three some but then idk💔

 sccrim — all rights reserved. please do not modify, repost , translate , or plagiarise my content.

[fumiliar]

warning : angst

"get out."

the blonde man stared at you in disbelief, "what?"

"get out of that damn office before i have to drag you with my own two hands," you said once more to your husband, kento, who has been stuck in his home office all day. you leaned at the door, waiting for him to get up. instead, a laugh echoed through the room.

"i'd like to see you try drag me," a smile appeared on kento's tired face.

"don't test me ken," you marched your way to his side, closing his laptop in the process.

"that had a lot of unsaved work love," guilt crept up your whole body as soon as that sentence left kento's mouth. but all that was present on kento's face was a smile, a smile that only appeared when he was teasing you. and you knew it was a lie.

"how are you going to pay me back for all that work?" kento held your hand, pulling you in between his legs as he stared at you with a glint in his eyes. "how about a kiss?"

"hmmm...," you pretended to think, while kento wrapped you loosely in his arms. "i don't think i'll give you one," you wanted to turn around and leave, but before you could take a step, kento had pulled you back, making you land on his lap.

"i think you owe me one."

"just one?"

"just one."

and as you stared at the empty desk in front of you. the remnants of what your life was, his office. the office he had left that day in a hurry over an emergency in shibuya. the office where you had stayed in as you found out the news of your husband's death. the office that belonged to your now dead husband. you regretted giving him only one kiss. you wished you could give him one more, just one.

[sukuna-ryo]

The (future) Mrs. Nanami

MDNI

»»———-　....................　———-««

---

(700 words) I really need to study for my exams but I was procrastinating so enjoy lol

---

I know there are a lot of fics where Reader is Nanami's wife, but I can't stop thinking about Nanami, who's just desperate to marry his sweet little girlfriend—you.

It's crossed his mind many, many times ever since he first laid his eyes on you. He wanted to wife you up, wear wedding bands with you, and pump you full of his kids. But he can't.

You're still in the middle of making your career, and it's not yet the right time for you to settle down, but Nanami is just so desperate for you.

He's very supportive of your career, of course. He even quit his job as a stockbroker and went freelance to give you more time and support while you were out achieving your dreams. But it's not enough. You even live together, and it's still not enough. He's sick of you being just his girlfriend; he wants more.

Oh, he already calls you his wife. He introduces you as his spouse to his friends, colleagues, clients—everyone—even though you're not married yet. But now he wants you to do the same. Whenever you attend parties, he wants you to introduce him as your husband and not just a boyfriend anymore. And whenever he's balls deep inside you, he wants you to moan hubby and not just kento. He wants to hold your hand, which has a ring on it whenever he's fucking you into oblivion. Then, he wants to make breakfast for his lovely wifey the next morning.

Oh, he's sick of it. He's sick of men hitting on you, thinking you're available, and he's sick of all the ogling eyes that follow you wherever you go. He's especially sick of Gojo teasing him that "maybe he still has a chance" because you're not married to Nanami yet. He's tired of it all.

And it's not like you haven't noticed—you have, for it's painfully obvious. That's why you tease him every chance you get. You fix his tie before he leaves the house to meet a client, prepare bento boxes for him, and kiss him goodbye, saying you'll wait for him to come back home soon. You do it on purpose because of how much it riles Nanami up. The tent in his trousers never goes unnoticed by you, nor does the way he clears his throat before walking out of the door.

You especially do it because of how Nanami takes all that frustration out on you later. He's rougher than usual, and more needy, bending you over the arm of the couch as soon as he's back. His urgent hands prep you up before he sinks himself inside, setting an unforgiving pace with deep, hard strokes that have stars clouding your vision. He's ruthless when he toys with your clit, pinching and slapping it between tight circles, that has you spasming around him. He's grunting and moaning when he burries himself as deep as he can go and cumming, filling you up with everything he can give. He won't say it, but he definitely has a breeding kink.

His frantic arms circle your limp body before picking you up and hoisting you onto his shoulder, then he's rushing to your bedroom. And oh, how you love it when he manhandles you, throwing you on the bed and ripping off your and his clothes before he's going for seconds, thirds, and more. He doesn't stop all night, not until both your voices are hoarse from moaning and screaming, not until tears have streaked your face, and not until he's shooting blanks. You lose count of your orgasms every time.

But then he's back to treating you as his sweet (future) wife the next morning, bathing you, and making you breakfast. Or that's what you think, because as soon as he's fed you full, he's back to filling your pussy next—fucking you right onto the dining table until you pass out screaming his name. It's great because you always take the next two days off, and spend it in bed with him, fucking or resting when he lets you.

And now you're curious. Should you hold off for a few more weeks before telling him you're finally ready to get married? Or will he fuck you harder when you're engaged?

---

Do not copy, plagiarise, translate or repost any of my content.

Likes, reblogs, and feedback is appreciated <3

»»———-　....................　———-««

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

[fushiguho]

✰ nanami kento is a gentleman, of course he’ll clean you up after stuffing you full! it’s his mess after all… ;)

cw cum eating, cunnilingus

“c… can i taste it? please?”

nanami is peering up at you from between your sprawled thighs almost submissively, reluctantly tearing his lingering gaze away from the mess of cum that seeps from your pretty, stuffed cunt. a fat thumb is pressing against your pearly clit and you whine, hips rutting toward his face. god, he’s salivating.

it pools beneath you, a lewd puddle of amalgamated arousal, cum, and saliva just ruining the silken sheets. his cock aches, watching drunkenly as your overfilled hole tightens around his thick seed. slowly, you nod, gasping as he begins to push your thighs to your chest with an eagerness you’ve never seen.

“fuck, just hold them there for me, sweet girl.” he creeps closer, the pant of his hot, erratic breaths forcing your stomach to sink in dizzying arousal as you hook your arms behind your knees. “i know she’s sensitive, i just…” his wet tongue is lolling out of his mouth, licking a long, ponderous strip from your messy, little hole to the head of your twitching clit. “god, i just need to taste you one more time.”

a deep groan of pleasure leaves him, those pretty, pussy drunk eyes fluttering shut as he wholly consumes the mess he made between your quivering thighs. nanami breathes into you, huffing out hot, raptured breaths against your perfectly swollen cunt, fully losing himself within the saccharine flavor of your lewd creation.

two, burly digits are stretching you open as nanami begins to fuck his cum back inside of you, intended on feeding you every last drop. he forces his warm, syrupy load to the very back of your poor pussy, tongue circling over your clit so fervently that it makes your maw sag helplessly. the wet muscle is creeping lower to greedily chase the cum that continues to leak from your tightening hole.

nanami doesn’t miss the tremble of your hips or the quiver of your thighs as you indolently unhook your arms from behind your knees, slumping against the disheveled sheets with a wince of overstimulating pleasure. yes, he can hear the sweet, droning cries that leave you, but he can’t help himself from cleaning you up the only way he knows how—licking up the expanse of your lips, fingers steadily fucking you full.

“i know.” he murmurs, the tip of his sweltering tongue sinking inside of you with a pretty groan of unabashed satisfaction. “god, i know that clit is just… aching.” a thumb traces over the sore bundle of nerves, messily smearing his viscous cum. “i made such a mess… gotta clean you up like a gentleman.”

a feral little noise is dragging from his throat as you rut your hips in an attempt to escape, yet your efforts are done in vain because nanami is easily pulling your legs over his shoulders, dexterously following the unpredictable cant of your body. you’re writhing, stomach caving as his big, greedy hands paw up your waist, the soft pads of his thumbs circling the skin near your navel.

“n.. nanami! god, f— fuuuck!”

“cum if you have to, baby.” he urges, lips closing around your clit, sucking. “cum on my tongue if you have to… i want you to, please.” a hoarse groan departs from his slick lips, vanishing into the depths of your sloppy pussy as he feasts. “please? just one more time, sweetheart. god, i can feel how close you are.”

a single, torridly tender kiss to your ravaged clit is what’s hurling you over a dangerous ledge. you’re not sure what number this orgasm is, but it’s forcing your back to arch in such a way that it only intensifies the force of your bucking hips. nanami chases your pussy as you writhe, obnoxiously slurping up the final remnants of his cum like a man starved.

you squeal, pushing nanami away with a little more force than intended, sending him tumbling to the carpeted floor with a muted thud! he only smiles up at you, a crooked, pussy drunk smile that crinkles the corners of his honeyed eyes. disheveled tufts of lemony blonde dance across his forehead, face flushed with parching crimson.

his tongue is darting out to sweep across his pretty pink lips before mumbling. “sorry.”

[howtobesocool101]

ᥫ᭡: 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲

soo this is my first writing or text scenario or wtv (idk what this is called) so i didn’t add that many characters but i still tried, constructive criticism is appreciated!

jjk. nanami, t. fushiguro, sukuna, geto, gojo

𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨

𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨

𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚

𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨

𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨

[sad-soup-and-chaos]

yes, damn right, they all survived!

He survived Shibuya and all he got is this lousy T-shirt..

[alternatimsnowfall]

What do you think would happen in the room you chose?

[mi-olaaa]

Sweet like honey.. (18+)

Fem!reader, softdom!kento, oral (fem + male receiving), shibari 🤭, and a lil bit of honey 😓, black plussize reader as always! Enjoy pookies!!

☆ ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ ☆

“Suprise! Slip my panties to the side.”

Nanami Kento was a very particular man, from the way he went about his day, all the way down to how he wears his ties. And that’s why, you— his ever so precious girlfriend were in your current predicament..

You see, Kento loves coming home to you. On time of course. So on the days he has to do overtime, he seeks out a different routine to have some semblance of control. He gets home worked up, needing to wind down, and here’s where you come in, all sweet like honey.

How could you deny Kento’s whims when he asks so politely to frogtie you, one of his favorite styles, arms behind your back, legs open and tied to your thighs by your ankles, looking oh so pretty and delectable, open and ready to cater to his whims. “Ken—” he cuts you off with a needy kiss, slender fingers finding their way to your pretty pussy, effectively shutting you up.

“C’mon love, you wanted to be a good girl, right? So be an angel and hush, let me worship you.” All you can hear is your muffled whines, and the loud squelching noises echoing off the walls with Kento’s every move of his fingers. He had those sinful brown eyes of his staring into your soul— as if to challenge you to do otherwise.

You don’t even catch it, too caught up with the way his other hand is gripping your hair by surprise, earning a wrung out moan from your lips and a smile from his. You stay quiet and let him tend to you, wringing orgasm after orgasm from you, just from his fingers, but you know it’s not over.

He spreads your legs as wide as he can while you’re tied up, pushing your back to the bed, hair tousled and in his face, and all you can think of is how much more sexy can this man get?? I mean his glasses are long gone, dress shirt partially unbuttoned, tie loose and slacks strained against his dick, and it doesn’t help that he’s eyeing you down like you’re his last meal.

Peppering kisses down those gorgeous, plump thighs of yours, taking extra time to kiss along stretch marks and cellulite, whispering sweet nothings before abruptly getting up, leaving you confused, but hushing you before you could speak. “I’m just grabbing some things love, don’t worry, I didn’t forget about you.” Kento rolled up his sleeves, fumbling with some things on the nightstand before returning.

In his hands he had a bottle of honey, the same one that you left on the nightstand this morning when you had a cup of tea earlier, and the way your face turned sour had him laughing as he sat back down on the bed. “Kento— what the hell do you plan on doing with a bottle of honey?” And he just wouldn’t stop laughing to even answer, all you got was another hush, and a look from him that had you dripping on the sheets.

“Just trying something i’ve been wanting to do, you’ll like it.” Is Kento’s only response, you start to open your mouth again, abruptly stopping when you feel the cool, golden liquid being drizzled over your thighs. The soft click of the cap closing and a whispered “itadakimasu..” unfortunately was your only warning of how feral your boyfriend was about to get. All of the earlier shit was just to ease you into it, get you relaxed, this? This was him blowing steam.



The noises you made as Kento all but devoured your thighs, biting and lapping at them just to see them jiggle, were funny to him apparently, he couldn’t stop grinning. All he was doing was cleaning up his mess, lapping up the honey, and you already looked ruined, heaving and writhing under his ministrations. When he finally got to your pussy, his eyes were yet again eager and burning into your soul.

You wiggled and whined to your heart’s content, but that wasn’t deterring Kento, you were tied up and his to play with, his to dive face-first into, his to tease and touch, ‘till your nipples were sore and achy. Kento made it seem like you must’ve been sweeter than the honey he just licked off you, his tongue was just berating your poor pussy, lips suckling on your clit, making the nastiest slurping sounds ever to grace your ears.

Every kiss, bite, lap and groan had shivers going up your spine, setting your body on fire with the need to cum on his face. You couldn’t take much more, with how he was sweet talking you, kind words and praise falling from his lips, while his actions were downright dirty. It confused you, in the best way possible, but it wasn’t until he stilled for a moment, groaning into your pussy, the sound muffled— that you came to the conclusion that he came in his pants.

“Shit. I’m sorry love—” He couldn’t even get the words out, you so undeniably turned on by the fact that you haven’t even touched this man yet, how you may be tied up, but he’s on his knees for you, let all hell loose. With a wrung-out cry of his name, you came, squirting and creaming on his beautiful face to high hell, soaking the front of his dress shirt, shit, you managed to get some in his hair, neither of you even knew you had it in you to do some shit like that.

Kento was at loss for words, just staring down at you, breathing heavily. “You just-?” “Yeah..” You sounded embarrassed almost, and he couldn’t have his pretty girl thinking she had to be ashamed of anything she does, he pulled you up to sit on your legs again, back in your starting position but moving you to the floor, thighs wet and glistening, pretty pussy throbbing.

Kento’s need to dig in your guts just got overridden by a new need to reward you, give you a small taste of what he’s been eating on all afternoon. “Open your mouth love, ‘wanna give you a taste too.” Without a second thought you open your mouth, he tilts your chin up, keeping eye contact with you as he unzips his ruined pants, and slides his dick out of his boxers. But before even moving in your direction, you can hear the click of a cap, and see honey being drizzled on his dick.

You’re stuck in a trance of some sorts, watching the honey slide down his dick, and onto the angry, mushroom tip. It slides down slowly, coating the entire length in its sticky sweetness, before you finally make your way to the tip, giving it a soft kiss that has Kento shuddering as you take him in. Your tastebuds are immediately met with the sickeningly sweet flavor of the honey, mixed with his dripping precum.

He bobs your head gently up and down his length, watching you with squinted eyes, taking in every veiny inch, groaning and reaching up to card his hand in your hair, jaw slacked so wide, he’s drooling.

But you kept going, growing addicted to how the honey and precum mixed in your tastebuds to produce the most wonderful flavor, sweet, with a perfect dash of salt. With the noise echoing off the walls, you were sure the neighbors heard, and if they had an issue, they could watch for all you cared. You were sucking the soul outta Kento, tongue teasing the tip, sliding down every vein.

And he loved it. Within a record time of 4 minutes, his knees were buckling and he was giving you something else to taste on your tongue other than honey.

You eased off his dick with a teasing ‘pop’, licking your lips, content to swallow his kids— and he just looked at you like he still needed to release steam, so you let him pick you up like a ragdoll again, and let him put you back on the bed, on your stomach, still tied up to high hell. Your dripping pussy, and glistening thighs were presented to him, and it’s the rope holding you in place, tightly bound but not suffocating, only emphasizing how good you looked on display, trembling all for him.

Thighs bursting out the seams of the ropes, but his excellent craftsmanship kept you bound, and spread open as much as you could muster while tied. Kento kneeled for a moment behind you, enjoying the sight of your pussy, the bright, scarlet red rope bound to you, the slight pudge of your stomach touching the sheets, even the way your ass was up and out, stretch marks adorning his favorite parts of you.

You of course, got impatient, wiggling to catch his attention, it never left you, but he was savoring the look of you. “Ken? C’mon..” He got up, delivering a harsh slap on the globes of your ass, you couldn’t see his face, but you just knew it was probably tore up. “Patience love, let me worship you.” Regardless of his words, Kento gently slid into your pretty, dripping cunt, meeting little resistance due to how long your foreplay was this time.

And as soon as he slid in, he was gone, taken over with the need to remind his pretty girl that while he may be a soft dom, it’s not because he can’t be rough. The bed creaks and groans at his pace, the speed of him driving into your pussy, just to hear her talk back to him, was a complete 180 to how you two were just teasing each other.

“Mhmn— Ken..” You gasp out, hands gripping onto nothing but pure air, partially because you forgot they’re tied behind your back. “Shh, just take it, you’ve been doing so well love, don’t make me take it back.” Kento said through a clenched jaw, watching with each thrust how it seems your whole body just.. jiggled. It had him going harder, kissing your cervix almost, just see your ass move just one more time.

Your eyes were rolled back, and Kento knew it by how your toes curled and how your pussy kept squeezing him tight, he knew you were gonna cum soon before you even knew it yourself. And of course he had to help his pretty girl out, snaking a hand under you to rub at your swollen clit, biting and kissing at your neck, encouraging you to cum.

“Just one more baby? How’re you feeling?” Whispering oh so sweetly into your ear, biting the shell of it teasingly, hand holding onto your hip for leverage and the other’s fingers still massaging your weeping clit. All you can muster to respond is a nod to Kento’s question, the foreplay and rough pace finally catching up to you, pussy aching with the need for your boyfriend to just fuck you senseless.

Kento works his ass off, giving you the meanest strokes, kissing and toying with you, and it all pays off, because not too long after settling on a pace that has your pussy damn near red and raw, you’re hurdling headfirst into your 4th orgasm of the evening, tears pricking at your eyes from how sensitive you’re getting. Kento’s fingers slow their pace on your clit before stopping entirely, so do his strokes.

He pulls out of you, his hand moving up and down his glistening dick as he cums, shooting it down your back, a small whisper of your name leaving his lips. Kento takes a moment to admire you, before you break him out of his focus with your wiggling, and pleads to be untied. He doesn’t even untie you, swiftly cutting the rope from you for a faster removal.

You lie flat on the bed as Kento massages your legs and wrists, figuring you had to be sore from the position, peppering kisses down your back, “You did so well angel, took me like a champ love.” He murmurs into your neck, kissing it.

“Yeah? That doesn’t help the fact that I’m all sticky and need a bath now.” You pout.

“We’ll wash up love, but i couldn’t help myself, you were sweet like honey.”

☆ ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ ☆

Authors note: life was kicking my ASS 😭 I’m glad I can finally start back uploading pookies ☺️ enjoy this— hopefully I haven’t lost my ability to write.. 💀 (y’all were supposed to get some baby oil action w/ this, but I’ve since then taken everything to do with baby oil out of my fics AND drafts with current events..) I hope this isn’t too long or short or like really weirdly worded either, had to rewrite almost 75% because I deleted some by accident… *insert crickets* Enjoy!!

[levitonin]

That's literally suguru gojo and nanami merged together

[rosiewantstowrite]

@pseudowho

he's so delicious and this is important for you to see

hi again