Cum. (Inumaki X Reader)

Cum. (Inumaki x Reader)

Masterlist

Pairing: Inumaki x Reader

Summary: Toge’s cursed technique is good for things other than fighting.

Content Warnings: Overstimulation, dub/noncon (curse use), consentual noncon (consentual use of his cursed technique), oral (female receiving), fingering, dacryphilia, dumbification

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: heheeee my first new fic on this account, enjoy. tuna tuna or whatever. for those of you who were tagged wondering why you were tagged, I just took the taglist from my old account so hello!

thank you to @murmikaa​ for beta reading this for me! ilysm

Toge was not a man of many words, but when he did use them, when he did expend his cursed energy for reasons some would deem frivolous, it almost always resulted in you having a good time. 

He liked to respect your boundaries, so as the words “turn over” slipped from his lips, you recalled your safe word. You both needed it. Toge’s cursed technique could have you doing just about anything he wanted and he had insisted the first time you both tried this that there be a safe word, just in case. 

His palm moved up the back of your thigh, ghosting over your pussy and coming up to smack your ass lightly. He admired the way the skin bounced, the way the meat of your body seemed to sway forward and back with every little motion of his. 

Keep reading

#𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐌𝐘 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄, 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆’𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐃

☰ SYNOPSIS ⋮ kento’s adjusting to life with a scarred face and body, one day at a time, hand in yours.

— pairing ⋮ nanami kento x reader

— length ⋮ 5.2k words (it could be worse methinks)

— contents ⋮ nsfw and 18+ content, fem! reader, post-shibuya incident (i've not rly gotten that far into the manga, so there isn't too much from it), nanami lives, he's having a hard time adjusting to his scars :(, insecure nanami, hints at ptsd, mentions of marriage and having children, body worship, blowjobs, cum swallowing, unprotected sex, creampie — he might be ooc i tried my best 🥹

— notes ⋮ this was supposed to be posted for his birthday…which was a month ago :,) anyway happy (very late) bday to my first ever jjk love—you are still the most special in my heart i miss you dearly. ty bby mich for reading over this mwah ily lover 🫶🏽

“here,” you murmur, smiling at nanami before setting the mug of coffee down on the nightstand beside him, “just how you like it.” 

it’s a routine by now. 

every day, at nine am sharp, you rise from your side of the bed, adjust the curtains so the small peek of light from the cracks doesn’t disturb him as he sleeps, hum the same little tune as you shuffle out of the room, and you make his coffee. it’s the same every morning—black with two spoons of sugar—and sometimes, it’s the only thing that feels the same for nanami since he’s come home from that day. 

nanami doesn’t talk about the scars on his body. he doesn’t even really tell you details of how he got them after the incident. the only thing you really know is that it was bad, that he was half dead and half gone. he’d even left a voicemail—you still have it saved on your phone. he remembers walking through the pain, faintly thinking about how he couldn’t see through his left eye, and he thinks for a moment that he’ll die. he realizes that his goodbye kiss that morning would be the last kiss he’d ever give you, so he makes sure to part with at least one final piece of him before he does. 

but somehow, he wakes up. he opens his eye—one of them is permanently gone—and he sees you tearily gasp and shoko breathe in relief. and then he realizes he’s alive. 

“you should drink it while it’s hot, kento,” you say gently, carefully, like the wrong words are hot water to sunburnt skin. and you suppose they are—just that these burns are far worse. 

he only hums, sitting up with his back against the bed frame and his eye still trained on his phone in his hands. nanami’s never really been one to use his phone longer than he absolutely needs to, but these days it serves as a good reason not to look up and meet your eyes—a perfect excuse to hide that very visible side of him he just can’t ignore. 

“thank you, love,” he mumbles. 

“what do you want for breakfast? i can make—”

“i’ll eat later,” he says quietly. hallow. “you can go ahead and eat without me.”

nanami kento has never really dwelled on whether or not he’s attractive. not before missing half of his face, and certainly not after—that much hasn’t changed. what has changed, however, is that he now dwells on how unattractive he is. he stares a little extra longer in the mirror, walks a little extra faster when he strides past you, is a little extra cautious to make sure you’re never on his left side. you pretend you don’t feel him stiffen under your touch, and he pretends he doesn’t notice your eyes dim every time.

on most nights, he has the same recurring dream. one of a wedding—with pictures of you both gathered around by laughing friends and family, pictures on the wall in a house of your wide smile and his soft eyes staring at you. pictures that he’ll someday show your children, pictures your children will someday show their children, pictures that are worth reminiscing over. 

but then, just as his hand reaches for the frame of one, the same agonizing burn from that day spreads through his cheek, down his neck and arm, and stops just at his hip until he’s left numb on one whole side of his torso. then he’ll glance back at the photos, and suddenly, the same sunken hollows of his bones and the same marred skin of his face greet him. he wakes up every time to you beside him, watches the rising and falling of your unconscious figure that’s noticeably closer to him as you find him in your sleep each night despite him maintaining distance. 

he often thinks about the vacation photos you’ll never get to take, the family albums you’ll never get to make together, and sometimes, nanami wonders if he really is alive and well when he grieves for himself. he grieves for everything he ever was. everything he ever could’ve been.

“kento,” you sigh, making yourself comfortable on the mattress, right next to his figure as your arm presses against his. it’s quiet—but it’s not the same comfortable silence you’re used to with nanami. he’s not the same tall and steady mountain—now, you think, he’s just an ant pile on the ground, too easy to kick away as you pass by like it was never there. “come have breakfast with me,” you insist.

“i’m not too hungry right now,” he says instantly. he doesn’t let you hear any emotion to his words, doesn’t give you a lot of opportunities to pick up on how he’s feeling or what’s on his mind. it’s an added burden, he supposes—asides from caring for his wounds, asides from pretending like you’re fine and things are okay, you have to deal with all the feelings he can’t seem to handle himself.

nanami has only shown you a vulnerable side once since he’s come home. it’s after the first time he tries to take a shower, when the water pelting against his raw skin hurts too much for him to handle, when the heat of the water burns at the sore spots. he has to take a bath instead, so you help him wash his body gently, carefully rubbing over the skin with a washcloth like you would a newborn. he lays on your chest that night, clutches at your shirt and slots his body between your legs while you kiss his forehead and rub his back until he sleeps. 

after that, he sleeps on his side of the bed every night, and he doesn’t dare let himself cross over to yours. you try to stay on your half of the mattress until he’s ready, but you can’t control the way your body seeks his out in your sleep. by morning, you’re curled around his good arm, and he’s painfully stiff on his back as he sleeps, not moved an inch from the night before. 

“kento, you never skip breakfast. you’ve always lectured me when i try to,” you furrow your brows, “just eat a little.”

“i’ll eat later,” he repeats, a tad bit firmer this time. you sigh before pulling the covers over your legs and settling deeper into the mattress. 

“fine,” you huff, “i’ll just wait for you.”

“don’t be stubborn,” he frowns.

“i’m not.” 

you pinch your nose, rubbing over the bridge to collect yourself. you try to be patient with nanami. he’s always been patient with you, always gentle and kind even when he’s tired. he needs you now, so you try to do the same for him—try to be as perfect for him as he would be for you if the roles were reversed. 

but it’s hard for you too. 

it’s hard to see the shell of the man you used to know. you love nanami even with taut skin and rough scars. you love nanami even with an eye patch and a trembling hand. you love nanami even with distant words and scarce touches. you love nanami even if he doesn’t want to deserve your love, and you’ll keep loving nanami until he loves himself too. 

but it doesn’t stop you from growing impatient some days. 

“kento, the only one being stubborn is you,” you say frustratedly, the slightly irritated exhale you try to hide does not go unnoticed by him. 

he sets his phone down and looks at you fully for the first time in a long while. 

“i’m not,” he says dryly, “you can eat without me, i said i’ll eat later.”

“and you can join me for once instead of sitting here and feeling bad for yourself.” he doesn’t say anything after that. 

you wonder for a moment if you’ve gone a little too far, if you’re making things about yourself when they should be about him. you wonder if you’re selfish, if you hope he’ll heal for the sake of healing, or for the sake of being your kento again. you suppose maybe both.

but then you wonder if maybe he’ll ever even be the same kento again. but you think you’ll love this kento just as much as the old one—you think you’ll love every version of kento in every life. 

“i’m fine,” is all he says. 

nanami does not want to have breakfast with you. it’s not because he doesn’t like being around you—on most nights, he counts his blessings that you’re still climbing into bed beside him instead of packing your bags and walking away. it would be the easy thing to do, and he wouldn't blame you. maybe then, you might have a semblance of a normal life, a normal husband who doesn’t—didn’t, he couldn’t go back now—fight cursed blobs for a living. a wedding with happy pictures. a house with photos on the wall. children with a father they can go to the park with. family vacation albums you can put together. 

it’s all things he’s robbed you of, all things he let burn away along with the healthy flesh he used to have. he knows that if he tells you this, you’ll insist nothing’s changed. but paper does not smooth down no matter how flat you press it after being crumpled, nanami kento knows this better than anyone else.

he doesn’t want to have breakfast—he can’t stomach the idea of sitting across from you at the table, of feeling the aftershocks of failing you first thing in the morning. lunch and dinner are hard enough as is, and he doesn’t want to skip those and offer you lonely meals along with the pain and suffering he’s already brought onto you through his injuries. he also doesn’t want you to have to stare at his pink flesh and pathetic eye patch and trembling hand. he doesn’t want you to realize you’re stuck, bound to a cage to care for a flightless bird when you deserve the sun’s rays and the wind blowing between your own feathers.

perhaps if he’d died, you’d have mourned him for a year or two. maybe three. perhaps if he’d died, you’d keep one of the ties he’s always worn—the ones you can’t help but tease—and keep them in a box with a photo. maybe you’d meet someone new, someone who’d teach you how to laugh again, to smile and feel the wind on your face and the grass between your toes. maybe you’d get married and throw the bouquet with a sweet laugh and hopeful eyes. maybe you’d move on and be happy—and if he got lucky, maybe you’d take out the picture and tie from time to time, looking back and remembering him too. 

but now you’re stuck somewhere in between a stranger and the man you love, he thinks. and he’s stuck somewhere in between the living and the dead. 

“you’re not fine, kento,” you sigh, shuffling closer until you can hug his arm. he lets you, looks down at his lap and lets himself ignore his mind screaming no in favor of feeling you press your warmth against him. truth be told, he misses your touch—he just can’t find it in him to let himself have it. “and you don’t have to be. not right now, at least. but someday—”

“someday, i’ll have even more regrets than today,” he says skeptically. 

the sun pours through the small cracks of the curtain, hitting the skin he desperately wants to hide. he almost feels the ghost of a lone tear in the eye he doesn’t have. 

“no,” you say firmly, reaching to cup his cheek and turning him to face you. you trail your thumb over the scarred skin, rubbing over what would’ve been the apple of his cheek like you always do, like nothing’s changed. “kento, you’re alive. you have things to live for,” you say softly, leaning and pressing a kiss under his eye patch. 

and when a single tear rolls down the eye he does have, you catch it with your thumb and rub it away. 

“not a wedding,” he mumbles. 

“why not?” you tilt your head in confusion, “you…you don’t want to get married?”

“of course, i do,” nanami says quickly. he pauses, ponders his words for a moment before he decides to turn his body and face you fully. “i’m sorry,” he offers with a strained voice.

“what are you apologizing for, kento?”

“you won’t have the pictures you wanted. we won’t have photos on the walls, or vacation albums, or—”

“of course, we will,” you argue, furrowing your brows like the words he’s uttered are completely absurd. he shakes his head, running a hand through his hair—thankfully, that’s grown back in full, otherwise he doesn’t think he’d go out in public at all. the stares from people are expected, but he thinks the looks he’d get from being half bald might just have been a bit too much to handle. “kento, we can still do all the things we wanted. nothing’s changed.”

“everything’s changed,” he clenches his jaw, “i’d ruin them. the pictures, the moments. everything. if we had kids, i couldn’t even take them to the park, or drop them off at school, or pick them up. they’d get bullied by the other kids, the parents would whisper about you. i’d ruin it all. i am ruining—”

he doesn’t get to finish that last statement.

you climb onto his lap, cupping his cheeks with both hands and silencing him with a kiss. he doesn’t hesitate to kiss you back even if he doesn’t understand how you can be kissing him in the first place. it’s like muscle memory. it’s involuntary, the way his lips mold against yours. like the way his heart pumps blood and his lungs breathe in air, like a compass points north and the sun sets west, nanami kento’s lips press back against yours as firmly as he can without fail. 

“not to me,” you whisper against him as you stop to breathe, “you wouldn’t ruin a thing to me. our pictures would be perfect, and our vacation albums too. our kids would be lucky. i’m lucky, kento,” your voice wavers. your eyes are glossy and your lips are trembling. you clutch his shirt this time, inching yourself closer until all that’s left is to climb into his skin. you’d do it if you could—scars and all. “i’m lucky you’re here, i’m lucky you’re alive. that you’ll scold me to go to bed on time at night. that you’ll make sure i don’t leave the house on an empty stomach in the morning. that you’re here to let me untie that awful tie of yours or hang your coat when you come home. that i don’t have to sleep alone. that i get to take bubble baths while you wash my back. that we can hold hands while we watch a movie. that you’re here kento—with me. i’m not…i don’t have to be alone. i’m alone when you’re gone,” you croak, tears slipping past your cheeks and splashing onto his shirt under you. “i don’t…i don’t wanna be alone. without you.”

it’s nanami who kisses you this time—and it’s the first time he kisses you himself, the first time he closes the gap and presses his lips to your own since he’s come home. he pulls your body flush against him, trying to make up for the time he’s kept you away. you kiss him back hard, silent streams of tears running down your face as you desperately taste him on your tongue. it’s a messy kiss, not like most of the kisses you’ve shared with nanami. this kiss tastes like narrowly missing death, like the reaper’s scythe misses by a hair, like heaven has closed its gates to grant you one more day on earth. 

you pull away first, and he almost protests until you kiss under his eyepatch again. you trail your lips down his cheek and jaw, littering soft pecks along the raised skin of his neck while he breathes heavier. he lets out a shaky breath when you gently lift the hem of his shirt up slightly, waiting for his approval—and he almost wants the pull the covers over his body and shut his eyes and sleep again, but he decides to take a chance and let you peel his shirt from his body. 

he doesn’t meet your eyes. he can’t. not when you’re staring down at his skin, tracing along the line that separates healthy flesh from scarred—along the line that separates his past from the present. and then you cross over to the side that’s not so perfect, that’s not smooth and promising under your touch, the side that’s rough and tight and a reminder of things he failed to do—and you kiss it.

“you’re beautiful. perfect,” you murmur as you kiss along his collarbone, all the way to his shoulder and back again, down his chest and along his abs, right to his waist where you press one last kiss to his hipbone sweetly. he’s panting by now, and nanami is more than a little embarrassed that he’s as hard as he is from something as little as affection. 

but your lips are so near where he needs them so badly—and it’s been ages since he’s let himself indulge in anything sexual. even on his own. 

“can i?” you hum, making him groan when you roll your palm over his crotch, feeling his erection poking through his pants. he lets his head fall back, lets his hands clutch the sheets under them as you untuck him from his pants when he nods. “missed you, kento,” you murmur, kissing the head of his cock. 

the gesture makes him shudder, a weak grunt falling from his lips as he breathes heavier, letting out a soft groan when you smear the dribbling pre cum from his tip along his length. he’s sensitive, you note, more than he usually is—maybe it’s from not doing this for so long, maybe it’s from finally letting himself indulge in your touch after avoiding it, maybe it’s from the excitement that you still want him enough to do this. whatever it is, nanami moans softly when you stroke him slowly, chest rising and falling as you squeeze the base of his cock with every drag of your fist, cursing when you lean and press a small kiss to his inner thigh from your spot between his legs. 

he spreads them a bit wider to make more room for you. he’s on what used to be your side of the bed—he lays there the first night so his burns aren’t next to you, and you don’t have it in you to protest. looking up to meet his gaze, you smile gently at him. 

“do you want to stop?” you ask as you rub his thigh soothingly, “we don’t have to if you—”

“no,” he pants, “just…i…i’d like to keep going,” he says quietly. with that, you shoot him a bright grin, one that makes his heart flutter in his chest and his cock twitch between his legs. you pump him a few more times in your hand before leaning in to press a kiss to his tip once more, this time swirling your tongue around the fat head of his cock, gliding through his slit. he groans, low and deep from his chest, lets a hand fall to your head while the other fists the sheets. 

“love you, kento. i love you,” you murmur, and then you’re taking him in your mouth, wrapping your lips around his length and swallowing around him. he bucks his hips on instinct, gasping when your hand comes to fondle with his balls, massaging them gently while you bob your head up and down his cock. 

“f-fuck,” he rasps, “feels…feels good,” he breathes, closing his good eye and letting his head fall against the frame of the bed. you hum around him, the vibrations making him twitch slightly above you before you pick up the pace. 

it’s messy, the way you loosen your jaw and fuck him with your mouth, the way his tip hits the back of your throat as a mix of your drool and his pre cum drips down your chin. he lets out a breathy whine when your tongue drags along the vein under his cock—he’s always been sensitive there. you still know him like the back of your hand, like he’s the same, like he’s not a stranger but the man you love, like nothing’s changed. 

nanami has felt the warmth of your mouth pull him into blinding pleasure more times than he can count, but he never thought something so vulgar could make him feel so warm in his chest. you bob your head down, taking him deeper into your mouth, and he chokes on a cry of your name as he cradles the back of your head. 

“‘m close, love—f-fuck, you sh-should—” he tries to warn you with a gentle tap to your head, but you’re determined to push him off the edge, so your hand squeezes around his balls a bit tighter, rolling the sensitive sacs in your hand and making his hips buck upwards as he grunts in surprise. he cums with a twitch of his cock, his orgasm crashing over him sooner than he expected. you hear him gasp, moaning brokenly as his eyes close and his lips tug between his teeth, hips rolling into your mouth against his better judgment. you swallow what you can of the hot, sticky ropes of cum that paint your mouth, hand pumping the base of his cock where you can’t fit. every crack in his voice and every low call of your name as he spills into you makes the walls of your pussy clench around nothing, an ache steadily building between your legs. 

“so good,” he pants, spilling the last few ropes of his cum as he cants his hips up, “f-feels so good.” you pull away, swallowing whatever’s in your mouth as you stare up at him, making his eyes close as he lets out a low groan at the sight. you giggle when his cock twitches again between his thighs, still hard and heavy between his legs. 

“not enough, baby?” you tease, kissing just below his belly button before you climb onto his lap, cupping his face as he smiles softly. 

“i suppose not,” he chuckles lightly, “i don’t think i’ll ever get enough of you.”

“i love you, kento,” you murmur again, kissing along his jaw and nipping at his skin. his hands grip at your hips, squeezing firmly as he guides your clothed cunt to rub against his cock, making you sigh against his neck as your clit rubs over him through the fabric. “so much, you know. i don’t think i could ever stop.”

“yeah?” he asks quietly, “you think so?”

“yes,” you pout, wrapping your arms around his neck, burying your face into the crevice of his shoulder. he wraps an arm tightly around you, rubbing the small of your back as he feels you as close as space permits you to get—and even then, it’s not close enough. “i’m pouring my heart out, right now. you could say ‘i love you too,’ you know. now would be a perfect time.”

you feel his chuckle rumble from his chest against yours, and it’s the first time you’ve heard him laugh since he’s opened his eyes that day. 

“no need to get so impatient, love,” he teases. nanami feels the sun soak his skin through the cracks of the curtains, and he sees the way it catches in your eyes and brings out the small flecks in your irises as you pull from the crook of his neck to press your forehead to his. the day has only begun, but he thinks for the first time in a long time, there’s more waiting for him. “i,” he presses a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose, “love you too.”

“a lot?” you bat your lashes with a cheeky grin. he shakes his head in amusement. 

“i’ll have to think about that one,” he pretends to ponder for a moment. 

“kento,” you whine, pouting deeper. nanami chuckles once, then twice, and then soft, sweet laughter pours from his mouth like honey trickles from the comb. it makes you giggle with him, contagiously pulling you to join his moment of glee. his chest is light but his arms are heavy with the weight of you in them—and he can’t ask for more. 

maybe nothing’s changed after all. 

“a lot,” he agrees with a nod. “i love you a lot. more than anything.”

“i want you more than anything,” you whisper, gently grinding your hips down on him, biting your lip as he drags along your throbbing clit. you whimper softly when his hand travels under your shirt, kneading your breasts in his palms as you roll your hips against him. 

“i think i can give you that,” he murmurs. 

it happens quicker than you can imagine. your shirt is pulled over your arms and your bra is unclasped. nanami flips you both over so your back hits the mattress and he’s hovering over your chest, lips wrapping around a pebbled nipple as he sucks and rolls his tongue over it. your hand clutches at his blonde locks, head thrown against the pillow as you whine, back arching a little when his hand reaches for your other tit and his fingers rub and pinch at your nipple so as not to leave it neglected. 

“k-kento, please,” you breathe, “more.” 

he hums, switching his mouth and his hand to give the same attention to the other side, slotting a knee between your legs and spreading them wide. you’re dripping, pussy aching as it craves the stretch of his cock. it’s almost nauseating, how much you need him—thankfully, he seems to have an idea. 

you breathe his name the same way you always do when he slips himself into you, breathless and in love, brimming with lust and awe, glossed with ache and need. he sets his jaw and presses his forehead to yours, feeling your tight walls squeeze him in as he lets you adjust. and when you buck your hips with a greedy whine, just like you always do, he all but pulls out completely before slamming into you, just like he always does. 

“god, kento,” you moan, “so full. feels good—always make me f-feel good. only you.” he groans at your words, hips rutting into you desperately as he chases the friction of your wet cunt, lost on the way your walls flutter around him. 

you were made for him, he thinks, the way your pussy hugs around him, the way he fits so perfectly, the way your bodies slot against each other just right when you pull him close. nanami kento is sure you were sculpted by steady hands, deliberate and slow—and he can only hope he’s enough to be yours, enough to reach for your hand and feel the way your fingers entwine and your heart seeps through your palm into his. 

he’ll cradle it carefully, until he’s enough for you, until you’ll willingly take his heart when he hands it to you too. 

but something tells him from the way your cling to him, arms around his neck, chests pressed so closely that your nipples graze, that you want his heart in your palm too. 

“fuck,” he grunts, “missed fucking you like this,” he mumbles against the shell of your ear, nibbling on your earlobe as you mewl, raising your hips and meeting his sloppy thrusts halfway. “missed the way you take me so well, love. so tight,” he breathes. 

he lets a hand travel between your bodies, rubbing at your clit in slow circles that make you squeal, legs wrapping around his waist as your thighs tremble. his fat tip kisses your sweet spot, the one he knows by heart as he angles his hips and slams into you with precision, the slow, sloppy roll of his hips building up your orgasm in a steady ache. your hands find his hair, tugging at the roots as you let wanton moans spill from your mouth. and he’s everywhere, his skin against yours, his mouth pressing hot, searing kisses along your jaw, his vein dragging along your walls as his cock curves into you just right. 

you can feel the coil in your belly tighten until it’s just ready to snap, can feel yourself get closer to your high, can feel the way nanami is close too as he twitches in your dripping heat. he’s groaning into your neck, head falling into the juncture of your shoulder as he lets out deep grunts, balls heavy and aching to release. 

“kento, kento,” you chant his name. it leaves a tender feeling swimming in his chest, fond and proud and a little grateful all at once. the way you say his name like that makes him think you still need him, that he’s still enough, that he’s still everything you want. and when you tug at his roots, letting out a soft sob as his thumb rubs harshly over your sensitive clit, he smiles a little against your skin. “‘m so close kento, n-need it. need it so bad, please.”

“let go,” he kisses your neck, “cum for me, love.” 

and you do. hard. 

it’s been as long for you as it has for him—sometimes you let yourself forget that. but he slams himself into your walls, your slick smeared messily along your thighs, and you cum on his cock with a silent sob. your back arches as you cling to nanami, tugging at his hair while he fucks you through your high, groaning deeply at the way your walls spasm around his cock. 

your high sends him hurdling into his own release, his second orgasm rippling through his spine as pleasure burns through every nerve. nanami’s head falls to your shoulder, and he faintly registers your hand cradling the back of his head as he desperately ruts into you, rhythm sloppy. he paints your walls white, thick ropes of cum filling you up as he fucks his load deep into your sloppy cunt. 

“god—you’re all i need,” he moans, “everything i need—c-can’t lose you, never you. i love you. i love you,” he chokes, panting as he trembles in your arms with the last new waves of his high. you’re repeating the words back—and through soft sniffles, he faintly registers—while your fingers are gently threading through his hair. 

and when he slips out of you, slumping onto the bed beside you as he collects you in his arms, he realizes that this is the first time he’s laid on his side of the bed since he’s come home to you. 

“i love you, kento,” you say for what feels like the millionth time that night. and you think you’ll keep repeating it for as long as he needs it. “thank you for coming home to me.”

you kiss over his scarred skin, he brings the sheets over your bodies, and nanami kento is home. nothing’s changed. 

“thank you for bringing me home,” he smiles, kissing your forehead. 

© hanmas do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend on platforms outside tumblr such as tik

➵ NANAMI KENTO

summary : While you worried about his well-being, Nanami was more concerned about your self-defense strategies.  tags : fluff, slight angst, nightmares a/n : nanami kento, the only man I can write for despite my never ending writer's block

Whether it were your own frightened screams or the terrifying scenes that had displayed in your head a few moments ago, it did not matter which ones had woken you up. You were awake. And that was not about to change for the next few minutes or… hours. 

And the fact that the left side of your bed was still cold and empty did not make it any better, in fact, it was probably the reason behind the tormenting nightmare that you had woken up from in the first place.

"He'll be fine." in midst of the dark and quiet night, your whisper sounded louder, clearer. The words bouncing off the walls and easing some of the tension in your chest, your breathing sounding less frantic than before.

Yet that changed quickly once your ears caught the creaking sound of your bedroom door being opened, your body in a matter of milliseconds taking the first thing in your reach and bracing yourself for whatever was about to- Attack you? Rob you? Eat you alive? 

"I don’t mean to sound like a know-it-all, love, but that lamp is definitely not heavy enough to knock someone out."

You felt your pulse drop from whatever height it had rosen to, a mixture between a sigh and a scoff leaving your mouth as you set the lamp back on your nightstand where you had snatched it from. 

"I thought you said you'd be back tomorrow evening." you spoke, wincing at the dry and hoarse sound of your voice. 

"Today in the evening." Nanami corrected as he rid himself of his suit jacket, fingers acting quickly to open the buttons of his shirt which he threw on the spare chair beside the closet. Right, you did not even bother to check what ungodly hour it was right now. "But I managed to get an earlier flight." 

You hummed, the cool wood of the headboard pressing against your back as you watched Nanami switch his usual elegant trousers for a soft pair of sweatpants, his hands tying the strings at the front into a loose knot. 

He's fine. 

The bed dipped beside you and the warmth that washed over you once his thigh brushed against yours, once his arm wrapped itself around your waist and pullled you closer against him, the sweet and soft peck against your cheek and the following lingering kiss on your lips-

If felt all so overwhelmingly good. 

"Something wrong?" You had been awake long enough for your eyes to adjust to the dark as you could easily spot the little crease between his eyebrows, honey-pool eyes staring right into your soul. 

You shook your head silently, but despite the darkness enveloping you both, Nanami could feel the tension in your body, feel the cold skin of your hands and hear your shaky exhales every time you breathed out. It was so quiet, if you wouldn’t have known that he was still sitting beside you, his gaze not leaving your curled up form, you would have thought that he had probaly already gone to sleep. But he had not. Nanami Kento, patient as always. 

"I'm alright, just had a bad dream before you got home." you admitted, your voice not louder than a mouse. 

Ignoring your wobbly smile, Nanami curled a hand around one of your wrists, wordlessly ushering you to lie down with him and letting you seek comfort against the warmth of his bare chest. "I'm here now, sweetheart." the words vibrated against your skin as his lips rested against your forehead, his warm hand resting on your lower back aiding you to get rid of the remaining anxiousness. You wondered if some of it would actually ever go away. "You're safe with me."

"It's not my own safety that I'm worrying about." your confession sounded rather harsh, a tinge of guilt immediately spreading inside your chest but deep down you knew that he knew. Nanami knew that his work haunted you, causing the, for his liking, too frequent nightmares that sometimes kept you up at night. He was well aware what those were about and how they mostly ended. 

The only thing he could do was to keep assuring you, reminding you that he'd never leave you on purpose, that you were probably his sole purpose he actually always did his best to come back home. And you - you couldn’t do anything but accept and take the comfort that he fed you with, to the point that you feared you'd turn delusional and actually start thinking that the possibility of Nanami not coming back home to you was almost inexistent.

"You know what I'm worried about?" 

Your eyebrows quirked up. "What?" 

"I'm worried about you thinking that the night lamp over there could actually save you in a life-and-death situation." the undertone of his voice was unmistakably serious, but you would not have married Nanami Kento if you didn't know that he was full on smirking at you right now. 

"I see, you must have missed our couch a lot, Mr. Nanami." His chuckle quavered against your back as you offendedly turned it to him, his hold on you not loosening even a bit and instead inciting him to hold you even tighter. The light kiss he left on your neck made you melt into his embrace, reaching your hand down to his that was resting on your stomach, and weaving your fingers through his. 

"Kento?"

"Hm?"

"Welcome home."

toji always fucks megumi’s girl but i want megumi to fuck toji’s girl :(

#𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 — 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈.

tags: nsfw 18+, aged up characters, fem! reader, mentions of age gaps (with toji), cheating (you on toji), mean megumi, dacryphilia, degradation (he calls you a whore), unprotected sex, overstimulation, edging, creampie, use of pet names (doll, princess, good girl)

notes: i should not…but i kinda like writing a cheater reader gjsfjsjfjf oops

megumi thinks it’s unfair—he’s always been told he looks exactly like his father, he’s obviously got way less…issues, and he’s so much closer in age to you. he can’t begin to comprehend why you’d pick someone as sleazy as fushiguro toji when the better fushiguro has been right here.

he can’t help the anger that festers up, can’t even attempt to fight back the sheer hatred that bubbles within him—he hates seeing you with his father, he hates you for picking his father over him, and he hates that every night, while you’re waiting for toji to come home, you let megumi take care of you—only to climb in bed with toji not long after.

he thinks tonight…well tonight is going to be different.

“g-gumi—wait,” you whimper, hand weakly pressing against his chest in a pathetic attempt to shove him. he clicks his tongue in distaste as his cock slips in and out of you brutally. there’s cum trickling down your thighs, cum coating the base of his dick, and the mess is proof of the many, many rounds you’ve fucked your boyfriend’s son like this. it shouldn’t be this way—but megumi is just so much like toji, but he’s softer around the edges, just a bit gentler and sweeter, just the right level of shy.

he growls, squeezing your cheeks together as you sniffle up at him with wobbly lips.

“what? can’t take one more? that’s bullshit. i hear you begging my dad for more very damn night, even after i fuck you full,” he hisses, snarling at you as you whine when his thumb rubs at your clit. you sob, fresh tears trickling down your puffy cheeks, and he thinks it’s a shame you look so pretty when you cry—you simply won’t be garnering any pity from him tonight when you look like that.

“too…too much, gumi,” you cry, gasping as his cock bullies it’s way past your folds in another thrust of his hips, his fat tip kissing your sweet spot and making your nails dig into his skin. “can’t,” you croak.

“oh yeah?” he raises a brow, hand only squeezing your cheeks together harder, making you let out a muffled whine in protest. “can’t, huh?” he pouts at you in faux sympathy, “just too much for you, is it doll?”

he’s almost disgusted by the taste of his father’s pet name for you rolling off his tongue, can almost taste the bile as he thinks about toji’s smug voice cooing at you every night. it drives him mad—quite possibly on the brink of insanity really, and his hips rut into you faster, almost animalistic as he grunts with a scowl.

“‘m sensitive,” you protest, and there are more tears that collect at your chin, dripping down the valley of your breasts as he watches your tits bounce with every slam of his hips. “p-please gumi, ‘m so—”

“you’ll take it,” he spits, interrupting your pleas. “you’ll take what i give you and then you’ll say thank you, won’t you?” he smiles, sinisterly as you let out a highly pitched squeal when he pinches your nipple. he leans down, attaching his lips to the other, sucking harshly and rolling his tongue around your pebbled bud. “you’ll take enough so that the old man can’t even open your legs without my cum spilling,” megumi grins, “and then you’ll tell him his little gumi here took such good care of you while he was gone—won’t you, princess?”

you squeeze around him at the pet name, making him scoff as he stares down at you in disgust. it makes fat tears roll down your face even faster, lips wobbling as you stare up at his expression. you want him to look at you the way he always does, with awe and kindness and love—the sweet, sweet look that only megumi gives you, not the smug grin toji usually offers.

he stops his thrusts, hissing as his stiff cock throbs painfully in your walls, taking a ragged breath before staring at you expectantly.

“w-why’d you stop?” you stutter, trying to roll your hips as your orgasm dies down, making him snort.

“thought you were begging me to just a minute ago,” he says incredulously, “you really are a whore, huh? greedy little thing, just need more and more—need both of us. one’s just not enough?”

“‘m not a whore,” you pout, making him chuckle lowly, shaking his head in amusement.

“if you say so,” he says—almost condescending, like he knows better than you do. “think i asked you a question though, didn’t i?”

he raises a brow when you stare up at him confused, tilting your head that lays against the plush mattress. megumi smirks, angling himself to slam deep into you once as warning, grunting when you cry out and run your nails against his shoulders.

“don’t make me repeat myself,” he warns, “you’ll tell my old man i took care of you tonight, won’t you?”

“y-yes! yes ‘m gonna tell ‘im,” you slur, teary eyes hazy and unfocused as you babble in agreement, legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer, feel him deeper. he starts rutting into you once more, the drag of his veins along your walls makes your head spin, mind blanking as his skin slaps against yours and his breath fans across your skin with every labored pant.

“that’s a good girl,” he coos, lips tugging in a victorious grin, eyes twinkling with amusement at how easy you are to crack. his thumb circles your clit as he pulls you into a kiss, and with a few more sloppy thrusts, you whine against his lips as you cum. he groans as you spasm around his cock, walls hugging him tightly as he rides you through your high.

“f-fuck, ‘m cumming gumi—for you,” you gasp, feeling him smile against your mouth.

“‘s right,” he chuckles, “for me. don’t you forget it, princess,” he grits, jaw clenching as his cock twitches as he nears his own orgasm. your hands roam along his body, feeling his taut muscles as they flex under your palm, and his face buries into the crook of your neck as he groans deeply. “shit, gonna cum, princess—g-gonna fill you up so good, you’ll never need him again.”

he lets out a soft whine into your neck, shuddering over you as he empties his load into your abused cunt, thick, hot ropes filling you up and painting your walls white. you whimper as he fucks himself into you through his peak, clinging to him from the overstimulation while he plants small kisses to your neck as he finishes.

it’s quiet for a moment—save for your pants as you catch your breath, and then megumi slumps himself over your tired body, cock still in you as it softens. you giggle at the slight tickle when his head tucks further into your neck and his nose brushes your skin.

“we should clean—” you’re cut off by the sound of the front door opening, familiar footsteps echoing through the halls and nearing you as you freeze—panic settling into your bones.

megumi only smirks as he flips you both over, so your head falls to his bare chest and the blanket just barely covers yours.

“nah, let’s stay like this a while,” he says slyly, “wanna see the look on his face when you tell him everything.”

absence of innocence

pairing: nanami kento x fem!reader

summary: a high school reunion brings you and kento together for the first time in six years.

wc: 2.7k

a/n: LMAO this started as a little angsty blurb then began a morphed character study but anyways i present to you something that has lived rent free in my mind for two months

cw: no curses au, mutual pining/regret, rumination, angst/little to no comfort, a smidgeon of fluff, smoking, reader's mother has passed, mentions of skinny dipping, mentions of losing virginity (a line of smut), thoughts of cheating (not acting on it), big brain existential crisis thoughts

song inspo: coffee and cigarettes by the night game

nanami kento looks so handsome with the wedding ring glinting brightly on his finger. you see him from across the gym, knowing that he had gotten there exactly fifteen minutes early and waited in his car to walk through the gym doors exactly at 7:00pm. meanwhile, you hadn’t bothered to start getting ready until that time, showing up an hour and a half late.

many of your friends from high school attend the reunion and squeal when you finally stride through the door. a multitude of arms wrap around you, familiarity of those days skipping through the hallways and gossiping after school. you can’t help but acknowledge those who are too far away to even think about returning to their hometown for a dumb reunion.

your friends who come from just a few towns over ask about the band on your finger and you tell them of your husband who stayed home with a sick daughter. of course, they lose their minds over how sweet and valiant he is. you only nod along, eyes trained on the blond standing by the table laden with food. the conversation with your old classmates dies down and you make your move.

“color looks good on you, kennie,” you smile. the blond looks at you over his cup full of punch, giving you a tender smile that sends your heart racing. you never saw him wear any other color but black in his days of youth, but the deep blue shirt and the spotted tie tell you of a growth in character that you can’t begin to fathom. you wonder if the woman that put the wedding band on his finger was the one that styled him.

“it’s good to see you,” he murmurs. you lean in to hear him over the music, finding that the only thing that the movement aids in is turning your legs into jelly at how close your bodies get.

nanami isn’t too sure of why he came. his wife didn’t care what he chose, seeing as he told her that he had a friend that he would be able to stay with, and it wasn’t a total lie. he just didn’t know at the time if you had an extra room in your house, if you had upgraded to a larger space, if those rooms were filled with toys and carbon copies of your beautiful face.

the star of the football team and head cheerleader take the stage and show a slideshow full of pictures from the glory days. everyone has a good laugh at the silly faces and the outlandish fashion that ruled over their high school experience.

you and ken have to laugh at a picture of the two of you sharing a smoke underneath the bleachers, grinning at the camera like a couple of delinquents. the itch to pull on one hits you, so you elbow him and he follows, much to the amusement of the other adults in the room as the slide for “most likely to get married” shows your faces.

“you smoke still?” ken asks the obvious question as you fumble in your purse for the pack and a lighter. you find what you’re looking for, setting the cigarette between your teeth. your hands tremble as you try to ignite the lighter. you’d like to blame it on the fact that you hadn’t had a fix since that morning, but kento’s gaze searing into you trumps every excuse.

“yeah,” you talk around the thing in your teeth before taking a long pull. you lean against the exterior of the gym and watch as the smoke billows out between your lips. you pluck the cigarette from its place and offer it to him. he shakes his head. you smile and take the hit instead before marveling, “you quit! goody two shoes.”

“a while ago.” ken’s arm brushes against yours as he takes a place beside you, watching the first few people begin to leave the reunion.

“i did when i was pregnant, but i missed it too much.”

you can feel his eyes on you at the statement you didn’t want to utter. it felt like some sort of duty to your husband.

“kids?”

“yup,” you smile. “two girls and a boy. all as cute as can be. you?”

“yeah.”

he doesn’t elaborate. you pretend not to hear the way his voice catches on the syllable. you stay silent for a minute more, then ask what he’s doing now. he tells you that he’s in the city, working an economic or banking job that you don’t really understand. a few terms that stuck in your mind from your college classes years ago jump out at you, but the whole thing is mainly jargon that you nod along with. ken knows that you don’t understand, which is why he asks you what you’ve been doing quickly after he finishes.

“well, i had to escape this town just for a little bit, but i ended up taking over my mom’s vet practice when she passed. i’m not really sure why i came back, seeing as i wanted to get out for so long.”

but kento knows why you did. your sense of loyalty and responsibility always came shining through when you were younger, as much as you wanted to deny it and lean into a rebellious phase that you thought was going to last forever. that’s one of the things that he loves - no, loved, about you so much.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t know that your mother had passed.” it was the only sentence to push out from his dry mouth.

“it was a few years after i had gotten back, so i was able to spend a good amount of time shadowing her. the transition was easy after that.”

a heavy silence hangs in between the two of you as you take one last pull of the cigarette, flicking it into the bushes onto the grave of the butts you dug into the same spot in high school.

kento watches you as you twist the strands of your hair while you wait for something to say to magically pop into your head. he thinks that you haven’t changed a bit - even your mannerisms are the same. you still have flecks of beautiful color in your eyes, that one crooked tooth that four years of braces couldn’t fix.

being back in town reminds him of you. every street has a memory, every crack in the sidewalk, every window gleaming in the sunlight. he can’t help but imagine what his life would’ve been like if he had stayed, if he had conquered the fear of settling down in a place that he had longed to escape for so long.

kento feels trapped in his life. he hates to think of it that way. he has it good. he has a loving wife (that looks suspiciously similar to you), a baby, a house that’s not too big, not too small, a six figure job, a dog, a white picket fence. but it still feels empty somehow.

you can’t care less about how your life is missing something. it feels good to have taken over your mother’s business, to have responsibility for something that you love doing. throwing yourself into work is an easy escape from ruminating on every regret you’ve ever had, every text you didn’t send. but that doesn’t stop those thoughts from attacking when you leave the clinic during those late nights.

“we sound like a hallmark movie,” you marvel, looking up at the stars. kento chuckles in agreement. you jump when his fingers brush against yours, but only for a moment as he grabs the cigarette you had just lit.

“i thought you-”

“for old time’s sake,” he shrugs, taking a long pull. he coughs slightly, the smoke coming out in dense bursts, before passing it back to you. you smirk, then look back up at the stars with him, ignoring the fact that your hands touch as they rest against the exterior of the gym.

together, you wordlessly think of those long nights spent out underneath the same stars, those sunsets on the bridge, the midnights spent skinny dipping in the valley. sharing a milkshake at the diner, making breakfast after school dances, passing notes to him in class that he would never answer for fear of getting caught.

you both think of those memories as soon as your heads hit the pillows, and as soon as you rise from them in the morning. it’s an aching feeling, one that no other person can fill, no other substance can satisfy. you both ran away for too long, built up your fences around yourselves.

it had taken a while though. you went off to college in different places, coming back during the breaks to see your families. those times had been the most fulfilling. you had been older, more mature, more desperate.

when you finally lost your virginities, it was to each other, like it always should have been. you’ll never forget the feeling of him surrounding you in your childhood bed, those loving whispers and tender touches as he truly made love to you. that’s how it should have been.

it had been, for the time being. a whole year and a half. a winter break, a summer break, then another. but the seasons changing meant that you both were changing too.

but those visits to home after you both had graduated college became fewer and farther in between, for him at least. you were in vet school and he was out in the working world. your mom got sick and you spent all breaks, even some weekends, coming home to help out at the clinic and make things easier in her last few years on earth. and you barely saw kento except for around christmas. however, once he brought home that girl that looked like you, you could barely find the courage to speak to him.

he guesses it was the same for him, how the last time he saw you, you were shopping with a carbon copy of himself for thanksgiving dinner. he remembers how quickly he ducked away to the next aisle, how fast he ran out of the door, how he couldn’t keep himself from hitting the steering wheel over and over again, begging whatever god there was above for the courage to claim you, even if it meant kissing you in the middle of the deli section.

that courage never came.

instead, he chooses to remember those good times. how your first kiss had been after prom, how you were both too scared to go further while his parents were still home. he still has all of your notes, all of the haphazard poems you’d scribbled across them.

will you chase the sun

with me at your side, just us?

i’m waiting for you

the crinkled pages don’t smell like they used to, like your melon shampoo or your rose perfume. they’re locked away in a box full of those memories that he hates to open, but can’t help himself from doing so from time to time.

clouds will part

under our fingertips so

we’ll be artists, ken

you look at him, watching the memories play out in his eyes, dancing across the stars that reflect off of the molten depths. a specific night comes to your mind as you imagine him six years younger laying next to you.

“what are you thinkin’ ‘bout, ken?” you asked, prodding him with your elbow.

“‘s too deep, i think,” he mused, smiling at you. you turn into him, nestling into his side to escape the bite of the chilly autumn air. he tucks his arm around you to pull you in closer to warmth. he curses himself for not bringing more blankets.

“c’mon, tell me.”

“okay…” he sighs before sweeping his hand across the night sky. “our bodies are made out of stars.”

“whaddya mean?”

“the law of energy, right? it can’t be created or destroyed. so everything on earth came from the big bang, in theory. every rock, every plant, every animal. it’s all just bundles of energy. we’re just bundles of energy. energy that came from stars. and one day, that’s where we’ll be again. you know, eventually.”

“i think you’re right, ken,” you sigh, rubbing your temples. “too much for my little brain this late at night.”

“your brain’s not little,” he whispers, kissing your forehead. his lips don’t leave your skin for a long time.

it was the last night you spent with him.

ken still remembers how the juvenile “i love yous” passed between your lips, how those words used to slip under his tongue like a drug. he was always underneath your spell. yet somehow, he had equated that with the hold that the town had on him. so you were one of the things he had to escape.

it wasn’t easy at first. every time he came back, you were waiting with a cheeky smile on your face. every meeting ended in your bodies tangled together, as it should have been, but kento was always too restless. you felt it. you felt that change.

his family up and moved out of town five years ago. he never had a reason to come back after that.

you still texted him from time to time, but after the conversations dried up and calls became more infrequent, you let him slip away. you thought that’s what he wanted. he thought that was what he had wanted. so those “hey, it’s been a while” and “happy birthday” texts became more and more scarce.

you don’t talk to each other for the rest of the night. you stand there in silence, letting those feelings collide over and over again in the tense space between you. your lookalike spouses are waiting for you at home, your children will need to be brought to school in the morning.

your phone rings.

kento watches as you bite your fingernail and nod along with the conversation, ending it with a tired “okay, i’ll be right there” and closing your eyes. one last cigarette. one last ash.

one last look over your shoulder as you wave goodbye to the man you don’t know if you’ll ever see again. the man that was the only one that made you feel like a star.

it’s cruel, you think, as you start the car to drive to the clinic, it’s cruel for someone with such big dreams to not realize that it was you all along.

it’s cruel for you to not realize that it had been him all along.

you speed away, fighting back tears along with the desire to turn the car around, the desire to run away from the three kids waiting for you to get home so that they can attack you with hugs and kisses because their father couldn’t get them to sleep without your usual bedtime story and song. you have a duty, a responsibility, and promise to fulfill, and one man from years ago can’t stop that. you had both made your choices. you both had already dug your graves. you’re buried with the burnt cigarette butts.

kento leaves soon after, not even bothering to go back inside. instead, he heads straight back to the suburbs just outside the city, greeting his dog with a tired scratch behind the ears.

you both lie in bed, staring out the window at the same stars, wondering if the other was thinking about you - and of course, they were.

two different people, two different lives, two different spouses that bear the resemblance of the ones that the others so desire to love. it’s a wicked fate, one that the lack of courage destines in the lives of those too cowardly to claim the ones they want. when the walls come tumbling down, when reality hits and you wake up next to someone you don’t recognize as the person you want to be with, that’s when the hole in your heart grows wider. it’s easy to acknowledge now, how in the absence of innocence, there was an abundance of regret.

© all work belongs to poursomesunaonme. do not copy and repost.

taggin: @princess-jaeger @ob-levi-on @pink-apples001 @missyasma @leiriswhore @putridsimp @galactict3a

My idea of peace is laying in bed with you with my leg thrown over yours. You kiss the top of my head every now and again. We are safe.