#parisian content | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

plotsignificanthaircut555 · 9 days

Text

Long Lonely Layover (Nanami Kento x Reader)

Sitting at a bar in the Paris airport you’re approached by a handsome stranger on a similarly long layover.

warnings: SMUT, MDNI, 18+ Only. kissing, sexy, doggy, oral, getting right nasty up in the bathroom, public sex, standing sex, standing oral, talk of contreception (keep it safe yall), emotions after sex

6.7k words. Ao3 I really hope you enjoy this one, I hope was super happy to write for this big beautiful man once again. Kind of plus size coded reader(all my readers are pretty mid/plus sized coded.)

Your eyes flicked up to the bottom right corner of the news broadcast in front of you. There was a little animation card that showed the weather, the date, and the local time.

Charles de Gaulle Aéroport, Paris. 12:22 pm

The broadcast changed to a commercial, some beautiful woman biking through a sunlit trail, a glass bottle of wine in a stylish backpack that was apparently the product for sale. How you craved to be that woman, you wanted to feel the sun instead of these harsh, artificial lights above you. You wanted to open a bottle of wine in some gorgeous Parisian park, not pay a massive up charge for each pour, as you were now. Your last flight had brought you here nearly an hour ago, you didn’t board your next flight for another two and a half. A four hour, cumulative, layover. Just enough time to drag, but not enough to fully leave the airport, stretch your legs, and enjoy some local sights. Especially with how long customs could take. You sighed, daring to check the clock display once again.

12:23pm

Fuck.

The airport bartender hovered the bottle of white wine above your glass, you nodded, and he emptied its contents. In your defense, the bottle had already been opened by another patron before you sat down, you just drank the remaining two glasses worth. Taking a small sip, deciding it may be better to start savoring these— you have a long afternoon ahead of you, you scanned the airport terminal for a duty free store that may sell books. You could pick up a saucy paperback or a mystery thriller and breeze through the next few hours. No luck, you would have to close out and wander through the various hallways and levels in search of one. You took a larger sip of your wine, feeling confident in your next plan. Before you could catch the bartender's attention, a voice came from your side. It sounded like French, someone was speaking to you in French— in the Paris airport, a likely place for that to happen. But the tonality held something else, something richer and augmented. You turned toward the voice and found an apologetic looking blonde man. He was tall, even from your place on the barstool you could tell, and he was, broad shoulders, the black and burgundy pinstripe blazer that housed them looking like dark brick you’d find in one of Paris' many gothic style buildings. Catching yourself, you looked up at his eyes and saw him gesture his head toward the stool next to you.

“Puis-he m’asseoir ici?” He asked, presumably again as you had completely missed what he said earlier.

“The seat? Oh! No- yes! Wait no, no one is sitting there, yes you can sit here.” You didn’t know a lot of French, but this was a common enough phrase that after some embarrassing mental flip flopping you were able to answer.

He softens, and pulls the suitcase slung over his shoulder and sets it down next to the stool,

“Merci.”, he smiles softly, “or—I suppose—Thank You would be better, here.”

You smiled in awe, “English and French. Very impressive.”

Nanami blushes at your voice, or maybe it was your smile, pretty, perfect teeth shining at him, your cheeks curling upward, he thought he felt his heart leap. He shrugs a bit, an attempt to downplay your compliment.

“My French isn’t very good. Mostly yes, no, is that seat taken? Can I get that coffee or that pastry? ” He adds, pointing to the imaginary bakery case before him, “The English is okay, I do a lot of business over the phone so I get more practice.”

“Better than mine! French slipped through my education totally. Spanish a bit, but mostly just English.” You shrug, eyeing him carefully as he slid into the bar stool next to you, making himself comfortable.

He was brutally handsome, a long, sloped nose stopped just before a pert Cupid’s bow, tan rose colored lips stayed slightly parted as he listened to you. But his eyes, amber and honey, outer irises deepening to an oaken, whiskey brown, they took your breath away. You couldn’t look at them very long, finding yourself unable to form thought, and quickly blinking away. Small scatterings of freckles lined the tops of his hollowed cheeks, and the line of his nose, such a lovely detail on an even lovelier man. His hair was clearly styled at some point, but was quickly losing its hold, sandy blonde strands falling in front of his eyes as he read the menu in front of him.

Nanami could feel you looking at him, the skin of his neck was heating up, he wanted to take off his jacket, but that would be too obvious. He hadn’t noticed you when he approached the bar, he truly needed a drink after the turbulence on his flight in from Tokyo, 14 hours of travel so far, 8 more to go. But when you turned your face, observing the terminal around you, he stopped in his tracks. You were gorgeous, truly gorgeous, the details of your face reminded him of an oil painting, all soft lines and creamy textures. There was one seat open on the bartop, directly next to you. Maybe he should have been embarrassed how quickly he had rushed over to you, but you didn’t seem to notice him catch his breath, or his hurried approach when you spoke to him. And now he could feel his heart drumming in his chest as he struggled to read the menu in front of him. His French was fine, he had to use it more often than he expected when he joined the French club in university. The bartender approached tentatively, you assumed he was also a bit intimidated by the Adonis that had joined the bartop. Nanami assumed it was because he could see him sweating already, confirmed by being served a glass of water nearly instantly.

Nanami scans the menu quickly before he darts his eyes over to your half full wine glass,he turns to you.

“Sorry,” he starts, god this is embarrassing, “which wine is that?”

“It’s the Amici Olema. Do you want to try it?” You were taking a chance here, sliding your glass towards him.

This could be taken as a moment of generosity from a kind stranger, a massively inappropriate imposition, or as flirtation. You weren’t even totally sure which one you intended it to be, yet.

His blush darkened, and his breath hitched. Nanami tried to control his trembling hand as he graciously accepted your offer. The glass was sweating a bit from the chilled wine condensating. He could see where your fingers had been before, there was the slightest sheen on one lip of the glass, where your lips had been. He restrained himself from putting his mouth in the same spot, opting to taste from the opposite edge instead. The wine was delightful, tart and cool, there was a subtle peach note on the back. Nanami hums happily, his eyes closing blissfully, allowing it to linger in his tongue before returning your glass. He nodded toward the bartender asking for a pour of his own. You looked down at the glass in front of you, one shared between yourself and this handsome stranger. His pretty pink lips against the same glass as yours, a small smudge showing you exactly where he had sipped. The popping of the fresh wine bottle woke you from your lingering fantasy.

“Thank you for the recommendation.” He raised his glass to you.

You tap your glass against his, “I’m glad you like it….”

You raise your eyebrows indicating you were wanting to add his name.

“Kento Nanami.” He replied offering you a wide closed lip smile.

You told him your name in return. Sipping your glasses in sync. There was something exciting about knowing you were tasting the same thing. The same tartness that slid over your tongue, was coating his as well. The thought made you cross one leg over the other. You pray you were being subtle enough.

A thick silence blanketed the two of you. The noise of the airport hummed and buzzed around you. Boarding calls and codes run out from the loudspeakers in various languages, often repeated one or two times. Your fingers slid over the menu, you were starting to feel the effects of four glasses of wine, you should probably eat something. The bar menu wasn’t expansive, mostly appetizers, a few salads, a few questionable sounding sandwiches. Nothing was making your mouth water but you could already feel your stomach growling.

“Are you hungry?” You to your left again facing Nanami who had now adorned the cutest pair of reading glasses fuck he was too much , “I’m hungry but I’m not starving and these flatbreads look pretty big. Would you want to split one?”

“Only if you let me put it on my tab.”

You started to protest but he raised his hand.

“For the great wine recommendation.” He finished, those honey eyes catching yours and making you swoon.

You sighed out, barely containing your smile, “well if you insist, how can I say no.”

He ordered with the bartender, and you dipped your wine positively smitten, his French was clean and lilting. The smallest hint of his home accent lingered, his pronunciation of the swirling language was nearly perfect. Under different circumstances this would be a very good date. You chastise yourself in reminder that this is not a date, this is just benign, unintentioned human kindness that bears no flirtation and you should be sick with yourself for even entertaining the idea.

That is, until he removed his jacket. He leaned back in his stool, pulling the blazer away from his body. Giant, ropey biceps in a barely fitting black sweater. This guy was trying to kill you. He hung his blazer in the back of his chair, back muscles stretching the fabric even further. Thankfully, his turned body gave you solace to chug your ice water, knowing it wouldn’t satiate the thirst you were feeling.

Nanami seemed to be unaffected by your gawking, adjusting his glasses and checking his watch, sighing at the slowly ticking time.

You needed a second to gather your voice back, “long layover?”

“About two and a half hours.” He removed his glasses and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

You nodded, “mine too. It’s a beautiful airport to be stuck in, but…it’s still an airport.”

He let out a laugh, his smile showed two small dimples on either side of his lower lip.

“Do you travel often?” He asked, taking another sip of his wine.

“For work, yes. I’d like to do some more traveling on my own. But this works for now.” You shrugged.

He nodded, knowingly, “what do you do?”

You told him. Your job was a little complex to explain but he listened closely and seemed to relate. You two began talking about your respective careers. You learned he worked for a Japanese finance company that had a few international offices in the United States, Denmark, Argentina, and the UK. This was his first time traveling internationally for this job, being sent out to settle the last few details of a contract. He asked good questions, he listened closely to your answers. Minutes ticked by, the food arrived, more glasses of wine being poured, the stories shared became more intimate and detailed as you two grew closer both emotionally and physically. Soon you two were nearly interlocking your knees, the flatbread completed, a new bottle of wine nearly half drunk, your cheeks flushed, his glasses discarded, folded on the table.

You slipped your cardigan off your shoulders, leaving your arms and collarbones exposed to him. The wine had heated your skin, Nanami’s eyes flicked over your form quickly before returning to his wine glass.

“So your wife must hate being apart now that you’re traveling more.” You baited him. It was an obvious ploy on your part, the wine had numbed some of your finesse.

Nanami smirked, immediately catching you out, “I’m not married but that was very clever. Very subtle move.”

You laughed with him, his mix of teasing and praise sent your head fluttering. He continued,

“I do prefer my move of not-so-subtly checking if you were wearing a ring, which I did earlier when I asked about the wine.”he sipped the shallow pour still in his own glass, “you don’t wear a ring. But plenty of people don’t, are you with someone?”

He had begun to lean in conspiratorially, as though your relationship status and your sharing of it were top secret information. But you could see the small flecks of gold in his irises now, the small beginnings of lines around his eyes, the pores along his nose and cheeks. You shook your head, catching his eyes directly. You both lingered in this moment; neither of you were beholden to someone else, the acknowledgement of shared chemistry hung between the two of you, the ticking clock of your coming departures ticked away in the back of both of your minds. Nanami watched you closely, your lips parted slightly, eyes drinking him. He would normally feel anxious being observed so closely, but your gaze was so warm, so inviting, he felt nothing but total elation.

His gaze was so intense, you felt so seen by him. Maybe it was the wine, more than likely it was the company. The serendipity of this moment. You weren’t one to believe easily in fate, but you were inclined to believe something beyond had brought this man to you. One as beautiful, as charming, as engaging as Kento. You checked the television’s clock briefly. Only one hour left until your flight starts to board. Only one hour left before you never saw him again. Only one hour.

“Can I ask you something, kind of crazy?” The words slipped from you before you could think rationally.

Kento had noticed the time as well, counting down the remaining fifty-nine minutes until your separation. He had donned his wire framed glasses again, wanting to memorize every inch of you in perfect clarity. He raises his eyebrows at your question, heart pounding in private hope. Could you? Would you?

“Please.” He answered, leaning closer, his knee sliding against yours, “ask me anything.”

You flicked your eyes down to where his body touched yours, you hadn’t yet felt him touch you, but even the brush of his clothed leg against yours had your throat tightening.

“I’m not one to…ask this sort of thing, but since I’ll probably never see you again after this, I won’t have to bear the shame.” You swallowed hard, begging your courage to stay with you, “you’re…incredible. I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re smart and funny and so charming and you’re…fucking stunning. I would be so remiss if I didn’t ask…”

Your words were failing you, your heart racing, you scanned his face for any sign of coming rejection and your throat caught, closing it off from more words.

Fuck. You were caving in. This was so embarrassing, so presumptuous. You had ruined what could have been a good memory.

Fuck

Kento gave you another moment to see if you would finish your question. When it was clear you were psyching yourself out, he watched as you sighed frustratedly. How sweet.

Nanami put the toe of his shoe under the foot rest bar of your barstool and pulled your seat closer to him. Your eyes shot open, embarrassment quickly turning to confusion. Nanami put his arm around the backrest, just barely brushing over your back as he did. Bringing you back to look at him, he smiled wider at your sweet, blushing face. He moved a piece of hair out of your face, fingers lingering on your soft skin. His touch was electric, enticing, you wanted those fingers in your mouth, on your body, anywhere, everywhere.

“I would be honored to find somewhere private where we can pass the rest of this layover.” Nanami’s eyes had grown darker, full pupils and focused, “if you’ll indulge me.”

In a flash the tabs were paid, both by him, drinks were finished, bags were grabbed, and you had quickly located the closest empty room with a locking door to you. Nanami’s hand on your lower back ushered you inside quickly before shutting and locking the door behind him, pulling on it once to guarantee you wouldn’t be interrupted. You set your bag on the ground, next to his own carry on, and stood back up. Facing him directly, now in total privacy, in the motion activated light of this family restroom the ticking clock faded, the crowd of the airport was forgotten, it was only him and you. Nanami looked at you, head to toe, before taking a few careful steps toward you, as one would approach a centerpiece in a well curated museum. Thoughtful and admiring. He stood chest to chest with you, although as a tall man he stood quite a bit above you. He hadn’t yet removed his glasses, they sat perched in his nose, intending the skin on either side. You could smell his cologne, something subtle and herbal. Bergamot and cedar. His large, warm hands came to cup your face, yours covered his.

“I’m usually much more of a romantic. I hope you’ll forgive me.” Kento leaned in, his lips barely brushing yours in apology before kissing you.

From the moment your lips touched, you were gone. He tasted like the wine you shared, his lips were soft and hungry. It took no time at all for your tongue to find its way past his lips. His hands flew from your face to your waist, up your back, down to squeeze your hips. Yours similarly wandered, across the downed of his back, up his arms, tugging at the cropped hair at the nape of his neck. The bathroom quickly filled with the wet, smacking sounds of your kisses. You removed his jacket, and your own. Soon your shirt was discarded on the floor. You didn’t even have time to lament not being able to wear something nice before he pulled your comfort focused sports bra over your head, your breasts falling freely. He watched them bounce freely before settling, his mouth watered. You covered yourself shyly.

“Don’t stare…” you weren’t sure where this bashful side of you had come from, surely he was pulling it out of you.

He moved your arms, baring your chest to him again, before moving onto his knees before you. His hands traveled up your body, pawing at your breasts, cupping and squeezing them.

“You’re right, we have so little time.” Nanami looked up at you wickedly, something devious and titillating behind his amber eyes, “and I have to get you ready.”

Before you could inquire further he began to pull your comfy travel pants off of you, untying the drawstring easily, stretching elastic, not your sexiest apparel but here he was down on his knees begging for you. You realized he hadn’t yet removed his sweater so you tugged at the back of the collar. He pulled the black knit over his head, in a second. You took the opportunity to slip off your sneakers and removed your pants fully. His body was just as incredible as it seemed, he truly was something out of myth. Gladiatorial build, masses of muscle cut lean under his fair, even skin. The freckles on his face littered his shoulders and the tops of his pecs, his abdominal muscles were further contoured by a tan colored happy trail leading into his still belted and buckled trousers. You moaned at the sight of him, making him smirk (and blush). He returned to his spot between your legs before looking back up at you.

“Do you trust me?” He spoke, voice rough with arousal.

You nodded desperately. You did. Anything he wanted from you, you would have given him at this moment. It wasn’t until he moved one of your thighs over his shoulder and snaked the paired hand up your back to support you, that you figured out why your trust was necessary. Immediately your blood ran cold, anxiety shadowing your arousal. He looked like a strong guy…but you were a fully grown woman: tummy, thighs, breasts, and arms to show as much. Never did you think someone would even attempt to support your full weight like he was implying.

“Kento…wait..I’m-“, you protested, trying to move to stand on your own legs.

His grip was iron as he kept your leg on his shoulder, he was at eye level with your pussy, hypnotized by the sight of you wet and waiting for him. He would not be denied.

“I regularly bench more than 180 kilos, you’re a warm up. Please trust me.”

His voice was so flippant, as though lifting your entire body over his shoulders was the most obvious feat in the world. Your reservations held strong until his pleading eyes looked up at you again, his mouth watering, hair disheveled, he looked so hungry. You couldn’t bear the thought of depriving him.

“Please.” He asked again, giving your leg on his shoulder a soft squeeze.

You nodded again, and he slung your other leg over his shoulder in one perfect lift. You now sat on his shoulders with your back against the wall, his hands holding your waist and hips. Finally, after three excruciating hours of build up, Nanami finally tasted you. If he weren’t already on his knees they would have buckled. You tasted better than he had imagined, so wet for him already, your pretty moans still reaching his ears even through your legs against his head. Your hands found his hair, gripping onto him for stability, taking your nail across his scalp as he lapped feverishly at your cunt. He didn’t realize he was making deliciously primal grunting sounds as he gorged himself on you. His moans sent vibrations into your core and up through your body. You rushed to cover your mouth as he shook his head side to side, tongue flicking perfectly at your swollen, throbbing clitoris.

“Fuck!” You panted, not caring how hard the back of your head hit the bathroom wall, “you’re so good at that, fuck, Kento—ah!”

Nanami smiled, drunk of your taste, your sounds, the feeling of your body on his shoulders. He was losing himself completely, he could have stayed like this for eternity. Pleasuring you could become his life’s purpose, his calling, he could be the devotee at the altar of your sexuality and die a happy man. But he was all too aware of the ticking clock that would rip you away from him. Luckily, he was a man who thrived under a deadline.

Nanami sucked hard at your clit, alternating between pushing his tongue deep into your hole, and circling it around your clit. You couldn’t believe how good it felt, in just a few minutes he had solidified himself as the best loved you had ever had, and it wasn’t even close.

But you were, you could feel your impending orgasm rushing toward you like a speed train. You whimpered into your palm, trying to warn him, (or warn yourself?) about what was to come, but he could already feel it. Your hips were shaking against his face, legs clamping down against his ears. Like a true expert, he didn't change a thing, his patterns and devotion bringing your orgasm crashing down around you in seconds.

You cried out into your palm, the other hand gripping the back of Kento’s neck to hold him in place. He was happy to relish in your climax, sucking in everything you released onto his eager mouth. When you couldn’t take anymore, you pushed at his forehead, whimpering.

“No more, no more. Please.”

When his mouth was no longer attached to you he sucked in a breath, coming back to himself. He squeezed the flesh at the top of your thighs, right where they met your hips and tummy, coming down from his own haze he pressed soft, intentioned kisses to the insides of your legs. He turned his eyes back upward, his pleasure drunk eyes and dripping mouth making you swoon. Nanami eased you off his shoulders carefully before lunging to kiss you again, it was so dirty to taste yourself on his tongue.

“You taste like heaven. I don’t know how I’ll go without now that I’ve had you.” He uttered against your lips, tongue still charging forward against your own.

You mewled at his praises, “you’re so good. Too good. You do this a lot?”

Hot kisses fill the gaps between words as you bring your hands to his belt, unbuckling and pulling at the waistband of his pants. Kento shakes his head, pulling off from the kiss to look you in the eye.

“I’ve never done anything like this before.” He was as shocked as you were.

He wasn’t usually social, let alone pulling people who were essentially strangers into private corners to have sex with. You had brought something out of him he hadn’t even known existed. Something primal and desperate, something passionate and consuming. You were touched at his admission, and awestruck by his natural skill and the situation you were in. You kissed him again, finishing the removal of his belt. His hands trembled with enthusiasm as he helped you remove his pants. You couldn’t help yourself, you reached past the fly and palmed him through his briefs. Fuck.

He was big, thick and full and so hard it was a miracle he wasn’t in tears. You moaned at the heft of it in your hand, which only caused the caged erection to pulse more. You wanted to taste him,to feel the weight of it in your mouth, to know every inch of this man before he was gone from you. Kento groans at your hand stroking him through the fabric, indulging briefly before putting his hand over yours, training his eyes back to you. He looked disheveled and desperate, hot mouth hanging open to catch his breath, eyes hazy and drooping.

“We don’t have enough time….” He mumbled, his forehead pressing against yours, eyes screwed shut he huffs out as you squeeze him, “I don’t have a condom…I’m sorry.”

“IUD.” You assure him, desperate to feel him raw inside of you, to feel him pulse and grow and cum.

He grips you harder, eyes opening wide, “Are you sure?”

You nod, practically lapping into his mouth for another sloppy kiss. He removed his cock from his briefs, not pulling his pants down or away and stroked himself a few times, each one eliciting another moan into your open mouth. Holding you close against him, Nanami allowed himself to luxuriate in the feeling of your body pressed against him. Trying to remember the heat, the weight of you in his arms, the smell of your perfume, the way your hair felt in between his fingers. He ignored the ache in his heart as he struggled to imagine how he would be able to let you go now that he held you. He couldn’t bear to think about that yet. Not while he could have you now.

“Brace your hands against the door, please.” He ordered against your lips.

You nodded before turning and placing your hands in the form of a standing push up against the locked, all too thin door of the restroom. You shivered as you felt Kento’s hands outline the form of your body, nearly crumbling entirely when you felt the tip of his cock brush against your ass. He leaned in close to your ear, moving your hair to one side, one of his hands interlocking with yours against the door. His chest pressed against your back, radiating heat. His breath tickled the tiny hairs on the shell of your ear.

“I’m sorry this isn’t more romantic. You deserve to be worshiped and spoiled properly, I’m sorry I can’t give that to you now.” Kento’s tongue trailed up the side of your neck as his unentangled hand aligned himself with your sex.

When Kento Nanami finally entered you, it was inhuman the speed at which he rushed to cover your mouth, stifling the cry that came from you.

He shushed you hurriedly, “You sound so beautiful but I can’t have us interrupted. Bite my hand if you need to.”

He filled you so completely, thick and deep. He was so big, you felt your velvet walls throbbing around him already, beating in time with your frantic heart. His hand kept yours locked against the door, fingers interlocked sweetly, despite the firm grip. His other hand held your hip in place, he pulled out nearly to the tip before filling you completely again, somehow deeper than the previous. His cock head pushed right up against your cervix making your eyes roll back and you whimper pathetically against his palm. After another thrust your arms started to shake, barely able to hold yourself up against the door. Nanami, of course, noticed.

“Here, hold your arms like this.” Still sheathed inside of you he moved your arms in front of you, folded together as though you were sleeping, and pressed you further against the door, body now flush against the cool metal and wood.

You buried your head in your arms, every thrust of his sending you further and further into total euphoria. You tried so hard to be quiet, keeping your mewls muffled against your arm, but it was so difficult when he really started to thrust, setting a delicious rhythm that even your best toy could never achieve.

Nanami’s teeth were threatening to pierce the skin of his lip, the groans and grunts he held back threatening to erupt. You were so tight around him, if he had had any thoughts left he would have worried his cock would snap off. He palmed the flesh of your ass, spreading you out to watch your walls stretch and cling to him as he thrust in and out. He nearly came right there, eyes rolling back, a throaty huff leaving him, he couldn’t watch anymore or he would lose himself completely. He found solace in pressing his forehead against the connection point of your neck and your shoulder, whispering to you in a long stream of praises and promises.

“You feel so good. You’re taking me so well. I would have taken you out first, if I could have. The nicest table at the best restaurant I know, you deserve it. Fuck. Fuck, anything you wanted. I should have had you in a beautiful bed, you’d look so gorgeous splayed out for me--agh, fuck you’re getting so tight. You’d like that, huh?” He shuddered as you clenched around him, body shaking, resolve crumbling.

His words were growing more and more nonsensical, sounds paving through thought to fill the small bathroom. Everything about him felt engineered to make you cum, and you were so fucking close, you could feel his cock twitching between thrusts, he was getting close too. You raised your head from your arms, he seized the chance to press his forehead against your cheek, his lips meeting your skin anywhere he could. Your ear, your cheek, your jaw. You felt spoiled, you felt ravished, you worried you may never be able to fuck another person. No one would have you again, no one could make you feel like this, only him. Only him. There was only him.

“I-I can’t last…I--” Nanami pleaded in your ear, his whisky voice dowsing you in pleasure, your eyes rolling back, mouth dropping open into a silent scream.

Your second orgasm was summoned in full force, tipping over the edge and arriving all around as Kento sounded the most delicious, salacious moan directly against the skin of your face. His hips jerking beyond his control, his own orgasm being pulled from him by you and your fluttering cunt. He pushed in as far as he could, tip pressing against your cervix. His hands held your hips so tight you knew he would leave bruises, you silently prayed that they would never leave you, that you had been marked by him forever. Your breath returned to you in choppy, pitched up gasps, he was quick to wrap his arms around your waist, catching you before your legs could fail underneath you. He was still filling you, spurt after spurt of white painting the inside of you as you trembled in his sturdy arms. Panting together, folded together, coming down from a simultaneous climax you and Nanami shared a moment of singularity, joined together completely, with no sense of time or place, nothing existed outside of the pair of you. And the pair itself held no boundary, no ego, no sense of self.

The bliss was quickly chased away by the remembrance that after this, you would never see him again. A dual continental moment of chance led you here. However distance, logic, and responsibility would rip you apart. Despite the ache in his heart, Kento was the one to break the embrace, kissing the bare flesh of your shoulder blade as he pulled out and slowly set you back onto your own feet. His hands didn't leave you until your colt legs had grown into a firmer foundation. At which point you felt a chill surrounding you, embarrassment, fear, but above all of that: a profound and perhaps overinflated sense of loss. Nanami shuffled behind you, the sound of a zipper, the retrieval of his discarded sweater. You couldn’t turn to face him yet, you didn't want to see the denouement, for it to truly be over.

Fabric brushed against your tricep, calling your attention back into the restroom.

“Your pants.” Nanami’s voice was gentle, so different from the raw honey depth you had just experienced, You turned on an inhale, accepting your clothing back.

He watched you start to redress, with every inch you pulled up your pants, covering your shapely naked legs, he sank further. He didn’t expect to feel so empty, truthfully he hadn't expected this at all, he meant it when he told you he hadn’t ever done anything like this before, he had the occasional one night stand but always in more formal, organized scenarios. He didn’t think himself capable of such raw passion, such chaotic intimacy. He wasn’t ready to forgo this new streak in himself.

He was dressed far before you, now focusing the entirety of his energy mourning the loss of the sight of you. You found your bra on the floor, and by donning it, sealed the sight of your round, smooth, perfect breasts away from him forever. Your shirt went over your head and covered the expanse of your bare stomach, the early stages of finger shaped bruises on your waist no longer for him to admire and take pride in. When you were dressed again you turned to face him, scared eyes softening at the sight of him.

“This was…” You started, unsure of how to finish.

Unexpected? Sudden? Life changing? Mind blowing? Emotionally irresponsible?

He nodded, knowing whatever you chose to fill that blank, he was feeling too. He took in a long breath before closing the distance and pulling you into a long, deep kiss. His arms wrapped around your back, one hand tangling in the hair at the back of your head. No clashing tongues, no biting lips, no frantic hands grabbing whatever they could. Just his swollen lips joined with yours. Your eyes were closed but you could feel the sting of tears starting to build. You fought them down and focused instead on memorizing the feeling of his kiss. When he finally pulled away he held your face in his hands, brushing one cheek affectionately with his thumb. Those golden brown eyes beheld you so kindly, so tenderly for a second or so…had it been eternity, it wouldn't have been long enough.

Nanami’s watch glinted under the overhead lighting, flashing lightly in his eye, alerting him to the time: 3:03pm, his flight had begun boarding. He sighed, looking back to you.

“Listen…”He started, eyes boring into you, “This was…incredible. You are incredible. I don’t want to go, my flight is boarding. Its the last one out tonight or else I would miss it, I promise.”

You laughed a bit, your smile returning. He separated from you to dig through his bag before pulling a business card out for you.

“I know this is unlikely but, if you’re ever in Japan, I would love to see you. Please, reach out.” He gazed at you hopefully, however not expecting an answer.

You nodded, watching as he picked up his bag and peered in the mirror, brushing the front part of his hair back in an attempt to look less like he had just fucked in the family bathroom of an airport terminal, it was not successful. He moved to the door, unlocking it carefully, before stopping himself. Kento turned back to you, chuckling in spite of himself.

“I don't want to go.” he repeated, just barely audible to you.

This time you traversed the gap between you, kissing him once again. He struggled to hold you again with one hand holding his bag, but he managed, indulging fully in your lips for the last time.

“Thank you for this, Kento. You are really something amazing.” You brushed some of his hair back from him after separating your lips, “If I am ever in Japan, you’re my first call.”

He smiled down at you, unable to resist pecking your lips one final time before opening the bathroom door and peeling away from you. When the door closed you took in a long breath. You were thankful for how it had ended, you were far more thankful that it had happened at all. He was already becoming a fond memory you would treasure forever. One day you would remember him as a testament to your youth, to being exciting and risky. But for now, the smell of his cologne still lingered in the room, the sound of his moans still rang in your ears.

You made your flight just before the gate closed, having taken too much time in the bathroom trying to cool your flushed face, smooth your mussed hair, rid yourself of the smell of sex that seemed to stick to you. You didn't miss how the flight attendant rolled her eyes at your approach, scanning your ticket and allowing you to enter the bridge. Luckily your employer had sprung for a first class seat, so you didn’t have to rush the length of the plane in order to find your row. You were grateful to find an empty spot in the overhead bin only a few rows ahead of where your seat should be, quickly stowing it away before moving between the aisle apologetically. You were thankful you had chosen an aisle seat so you wouldn't have to ask whatever poor sap was sat next to you to get up so you could sit down. Finally you arrived at the row and seat number that matched your ticket. Raising your head from your triple check of your seat number you saw your seatmate. A broad, beautifully built blonde man in a black knit sweater whose cum was still sticking to your legs. He gawked at you, you felt your mouth mirroring his in a surprised O.

“This is your seat?” Was the only thing you could think to ask.

Before he could stutter out an answer the flight attendant who you had already wronged interjected, “Ma’am, please find your seat and sit down.”

You nodded, still in disbelief staring at him as he stared back at you. You took your seat next to him, your shoulders touching. Such a small touch felt electric as though he hadn’t been inside of you just minutes earlier. Neither of you could say anything yet, stunned, elated silence settling in the inches between your seats. Without having to say a thing, Nanami reached across the arm rest and picked up your hand, closing it in his. You turned to meet his eyes, which were somehow more brilliant and inviting than they had been. It would take eight hours and some change before you reached New York City, eight more hours with him. Eight more hours.

ooooooooh! maybe a cheeky part 2? :P who knows!!! I really hope you guys enjoyed this one! Thank you so much for reading, and for all of your support with my writing, it makes me so happy. Love as always, --Doodle.

195 notes · View notes

nexusnyx · 1 year

Note

For daddy Bucky<3

“Nobody will know if you’re quiet”

jade green daydream

dbf!bucky x f!reader ; [3.7k]

⚠️ minors dni, explicit content. | 🏷️ daddy, established relationship, secret encounter, laundry room sex, semi-public sex (they're at a party?), soft!dom!bucky, orgasm delayal.

Usually, Bucky was better at hiding how much he wanted you.

That's why you pulled this move tonight—using the jade green dress that Bucky had bought you had been bold. Daring. A little bratty, if you would. Not something his usual 'good girl' would do, but something that needed to happen.

Defying Bucky had been buried deep inside your mind since the second you first laid eyes on him, three years ago at your eighteen birthday party, and it had never left. Never diminished or dissipated, not even with him finally giving everything you wanted: the attention, the touches, the praise, the feelings, the rush.

Bucky had been yours for a whole year now, but the first six months of trying were a tentative, rocky road.

Now was when you were putting your claws out.

And the effect... it was beautiful.

At first, you think your shot's wasted.

When you first walked in, Bucky had only looked.

Fixed, frozen, under a spell.

Not a muscle moved in his body, but that, you were used to. Initially, you had mistaken it for hatred, even. A deep dislike, or perhaps indifference. The man your father introduced as "this is James, darling" looked stoic, serious, and every bit as business-like as any other one of his boring, old colleagues. As beautiful as a man could be—his beard had initials signs of the grey taking over him, and even in his slicked back hair the platinum strands shone under the party’s light, as a bold and clear statement that James sent: he had no shame in them.

Who the hell would have? He’s Adonis.

Adonis proved to be more than a lifeless, made-of-numbers guys.

There was no bark in him—Bucky kept things polite, classy, and elegant most of the time.

He never cursed. Always smiled in contained ways—his jokes were never crude, and your father loved him. “So good, that kid,” he said, multiple times over that first year. Bucky quickly made his way into your father’s small and annoying little circle of men that often showed up at the mansion for their gin or bourbon, pool games and Cuba cigars.

The first time his mask slipped, you knew it had been the alcohol.

Just like tonight.

Bucky kept it cool, at first.

He smiled in your direction, but soon was back at talking in his melodic and pleasing tone with your mother and a few of her work colleagues about the intricate but delicate state of modern art work creation in the rooms of Hollywood; entertaining enough for her circle of friends, and interesting enough for you to stick around.

It was her birthday. You couldn’t be mad at Bucky for giving her attention.

But damn it, you hoped for more.

The dress received looks when you walked in.

It reminded you of the feeling of putting it the first time in that Valentino store in Paris. The secret gateway weekend with Bucky where you were finally allowed to hold his hand somewhere, and where he let out his inner lion.

The image of Bucky with a champagne glass in hand in that enormous leather cream couch, with his legs spread wide open in the most douchebag pose you had ever seen—it suited him. It fucking clicked with his expensive suit and shoes, and that smug corner-of-the-lip smile that only you seemed to see, it burned behind your eyelids.

Dreams ever since you came back from that fortnight in a parisian dream molded themselves around the crinkle in his eyes, and were often painted in hues of light, sapphire, and royal blue.

If those all complimented his eyes and the way they glowed like starlight when looking at you… well. That was between you and the four walls of your bedroom.

“Darling,” your mother called your attention.

Right.

Clearing your throat, you nodded, and ripped your eyes away from his black suit. “I’m sorry—I’m trying to remember all the good movies he wrote, but I’m coming up empty,” you joke.

The circle around you laughs, and your mother rolled her eyes fondly. “I don’t know why I ask an Art graduate and expert her opinion. Honestly—it’s impossible to please you.”

“You know what they say about apples and trees,” you sing song.

With a kiss to your temple, your mother laughed some more, and then launched on back on her opinionated rant of the director you had barely heard the name, and that’s when you first saw—

the first slip.

Bucky wasn’t looking at your face.

Instead, his eyes were glued to your exposed thigh. The slit of the dress was high, very high, and according to him on the store, one of the main reasons why he loved the design on you so much.

His love for your whole body had been noted, written, painted, and marked by him. With his lips, his fingers on piano keys, his hands tracing all over your naked body while he sat almost fully clothed inside his art studio.

Of course it would be the leg.

Feeling boldened by his eyes on you, the leg does it on its own—a slight and gentle tilt upwards, and his eyes snap in your direction.

His gaze holds yours for just one second, and you can feel the heat taking over you.

That’s when the game starts.

Forbidden, as much as it can be, but a dance that you two have grown great at: the subtle art of threading silk-thin lines connecting you two until an entire conversation existed without a word being said. Looks that went on all night, revoking each other’s attentions from conversations all the other way from across a room, until the first one has lost all focus, all notion of where the conversation went, lost.

He did it better than you.

Bucky could keep his composure for longer, which is why you had brought in the big guns.

You wanted to see him lost in desire, if only for once.

Wanted to see him blushing, in the same way you were left many times just by the sheer presence of him standing behind you.

Only when you see him swallowing thickly the bourbon in his hands is that you note that the dress is working.

Not once before was Bucky so… adamant, about looking at you.

But there he is—with his eyes fixed on you from across the pool.

Staring at you from inside the kitchen while you speak with friends outside.

Finding a way to always be in your line of sight, somehow—or better yet, a way for you to be in his.

It takes a little over an hour before he disappears, and ten minutes more after that for you to finish your way in the conversation you are to go and look for him.

With the party in full swing, it’s easy for you to lose other people, but with the size of your goddamn house, you’re roaming aimlessly for a while.

He must sense it, because a message arrives.

Him 🖤 Your favorite hiding spot, missy…

Laundry room.

You try to keep composure as you walk there, but it’s hard.

It’s been a while, and you’re still wondering, day after day, how is it that Bucky has this type of control over you. Whether it’s normal to be this attracted to another person; a pull that seems to have its own magnetic field. Its own North.

Between you and Bucky there is gravity—unique, intense, and solid. It has its own life. It pulls and calls to you. Just like always, you find him almost as if on instinct; this would be the next place you were going to after checking the cellar.

When you open the door, he’s standing right there.

Hands in his blazer pocket. The bourbon glass empty, placed right next to him.

Bucky looks up when you open the door, and smile.

Storms could start breaking the skies at this moment, and you would hear nothing. The room is filled in one second; it goes from empty to a box of pure electricity in the span of a second, and both of you are to blame.

What seconds ago smelled like fabric softener of the best kind — something aprhodisiac, sweet, and yet comforting — starts smelling like lust.

Bucky’s eyes finish drinking you in, and then chuckles. “What?” His voice is low, as always. “I don’t bite, duchess.” A lie.

His right hand exists the pocket, and his fingers make a ‘come hither’ motion.

North, meet South. Like gravity happens when an object is dropping mid-air, his fingers create the invisible thread, and your body waltzes inside. The door is closed with the heel of your shoe, and the sound of the door clicking is comforting.

In a few steps, you’re standing right in front of him, and the first thing you do is breathe.

A deep, steadying breath. His eyes are on the cleavage of your dress when his arms wrap around your waist. “God, this was the best thing I’ve ever purchased,” he whispers, pulling you closer to him.

Your hands come up to his chest, soothing the silky smooth fabric. “Was it?”

“A hundred per cent.”

That’s a bold statement. You giggle, rising your body slowly to get your face closer to his. “You’re a multi-millionaire investor who owns property from California, to Tokyo, to Dubai… and this is your peak?” The smell of his aftershave is intoxicating. How the fuck can that be? One deep inhale and you’re no longer here; you’re in Bucky Land, where everything about his existence is amplified and everything else is background noise.

His hands are spread wide on your lower back, massaging in a gracious touch wherever they go. “Affirmative.” Sometimes, Bucky’s old military comes out to play. Without a fail, you shiver every time. “Look at this,” he whispers back, hand continuing on its infinite mission.

“My hands have a mission, Duchess.”

“Do they?”

“They do.”

“And what would that be, hm?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Hmmm… not really.”

“This… right here.”

“Touching me?”

“Precisely.”

“Oh…”

“Touching all of you. For as long as you let me. In every possible way that can make you smile. In every way that can bring you pleasure.”

Pointing out that looking at yourself right now is the last thing you want would be rude, so instead, you nuzzle against his neck, pleased with the attention you’re finally receiving. His hands caress your ass without groping, touch on the side of your waist, and he seems to be as lost on your body as you are on his cologne.

“I thought we had a deal,” Bucky’s tone was so even.

You, on the other hand, could already feel the effects of his presence. “What deal?”

His next hum preceded the condescending tone of his, “Playing the act of dumb kitty, are you?”

You giggled. “I didn’t do anything to break our deal.” No more sex at your parents’ house, Duchess. This… this is the last time. Deal? “I behaved. All night long.”

“I’d spank you if I didn’t know how loud you get.”

That alone pulled out a whimper. Made your inner thighs clench together.

“See?” Bucky chuckled, sounding already so evil. “You’re already running hotter than a Californian summer afternoon. How can you have been behaving?”

“I didn’t—” his hand on your dress slides to the exposed thigh, and when they make contact with the skin, your breath hitches. “I didn’t do anything,” you insist, albeit a little more breathless.

Against your will, your body’s already pushing closer to his.

Bucky plays along. He caresses your inner thigh, and his eyes close when he feels your breathing spiking. When he asks you next, his voice is an octave lower. “This dress isn’t you doing something?” The question is rhetorical. When his fingers are tracing lines that lead to your inner thigh, anything is rhetorical because all you can think about is what you feel—him. He pushes on, “‘Cause I could swear it was you doing something, very clearly,” and then he grips. His whole hand squeezes around your thigh, making you clench once more.

If there was a game — there was —, then Bucky wins. (He always did.) If there was a game, this is the point where you forget if there are rules or not, because his hand that was on your lower back climbs through your back until it lands on your nape, and the firm grip it puts in there grounds you to Earth again. You’re thankful for him, even if your mouth feels like cotton candy. “You bought it for me,” is your weak excuse.

His laugh in your ear means he buys it, to some degree. “I did.” Finally, finally, he seems to get enough of looking. Bucky’s head dips lower until his lips are hovering over yours. “But you also remember what I did that night.”

Another whimper, and much louder this time.

“Put on the dress, Duchess. Only the dress. I’m gonna fuck you with it still on, just like you wanted me to do at that store, right on that balcony. For the entire city to hear. And they’ll hear you, right? They’ll hear how fucking good Daddy makes you feel.”

“I guess you do remember,” Bucky smiles.

“It wasn’t that long ago.”

His hand in your thigh pinches you skin, making you whine, and his smile turns wicked. Turns into a Chesire cat grin. “She’s so smart tonight.” Bucky leans until only a breath separates you two. “Smart mouth.” His hand dips lower, higher, and your legs spread apart almost as if on command. “Smartypants…” they go searching.

They find the panties, but Bucky knows his way around them with eyes closed and hands tied behind his back at this point.

When he pushes them to the side, you all but melt against his weight.

It’s a testament to how much you two have done this, to all the positions and situations that he’s placed you in that your body knows that he’ll catch you without even asking. Your eyes close when his fingers make a slow path between your folds.

They find what they always do—a river, a waterfall, the sticky sweet fact that he’s been affecting you all night long.

He groans, and at last closes the space between your lips.

It’s in his mouth you muffle the obscene sounds you want to let out. Bucky’s middle and ring finger are spreading the lips of your pussy apart to spread your slick on your clit, and his kiss has the languid and expert patience of someone who knows the precise way to melt you with his mouth. He pushes and pull until you two are in the same rhythm, and then sucks on them until your mouth opens up for him.

Your arms cling around his neck.

Kissing Bucky while he makes slow work of your clitoris is the best kind of torture. He’s patient, his hands have enough skilled dexterity for him to make a pool of wetness between your legs before slowly pushing his fingers in while the other massages the neck that holds you pinned to him, and if it weren’t for his weight pressed on one of the washing machines behind him, you’d be on the ground.

So slow. He moves like a jaguar that has spot its prey and is only making its way to it—eyes fixed, fingers buried in deep, mouth swallowing down all the noises. When air is needed and both of you pull back for it, Bucky’s pink lips are connected to yours by a string of saliva, and he’s massaging the spot he’s already found inside of you.

Each groan next becomes a silent scream.

He seems to hear them either way. “God, duchess…”

“Buck—”

“Shhhh.”

Bastard. “Too good—Buck—fuck—”

“I know, I know. Shhhh.” He laughs again, pushing his fingers deeper this time. “I know just how you like it, hm?”

“Yes.”

“Good. But you gotta remember… there are still people outside.” Your whine means that reminder is the last fucking thing you need. “Don’t worry… Nobody will know if you’re quiet.”

Does that mean he’ll let you cum? God, you hope yes. Bucky’s pressing your spot repeatedly, and your legs already feel weaker. You never have any clue how his hands never hurt from doing this, but Bucky will sometimes make you cum two times just like this before fucking you at last, and if you had never seen him work out, you’d be scared for his wrists.

Being quiet is a task.

But the edge is so close, and everything feels so good, that you ignore everything.

“Fuck,” you can feel a single drop of sweat forming underneath his palm at the back of your neck. The air around you two is hotter as well, and you can feel the snap of your orgasm approaching with each deep thrust of his fingers. “Daddy…”

As if you had said the magical word, Bucky does the last thing you’d expect.

He pulls his hand out, leaving you feeling empty and burning.

Your gasp of shock makes your eyes snap open, and there he is, sucking his slicked fingers into his mouth, and closing his eyes in pleasure.

What the—”Bucky.”

“That’s for wearing this without giving me any warning.” The statement comes out sharp, but not unkind. Fuck. Punishments are so rare that you almost forgot they’re a thing, and your next whine sounds like a choked sob. “Don’t gimme those sad eyes.” Bucky leans closer to your face. “Do you know what you did to me?”

You shake your head. “No.”

“I almost got hard, right there in the middle of the party. You put highlighter on your collarbones, Duchess. You’re wearing my favorite perfume on you, and god…” he holds you by your arms to pull you back so he can look at you again, from head to toe.

You imagine what a sight you must be.

The things he’s seeing right now.

Your hair must be frizzly—static, and everywhere. Your cheeks are on fire, for certain. As red as your chest, and as warm as the inside of your legs.

Bucky’s eyes are almost all black, no blue.

“Do you know what I left to do?” he asks.

You shake your head, trying both to answer you and clear your mind to ask him for something, for please, some mercy. For him to do anything; take whatever he needs, but just give you one bit of release, when he puts his hands in his pocket again and—

a condom.

Bucky left the party to go to his car, and retrieve a condom.

Your eyes widen, and he laughs at you.

“Yeah.” He sounds as in disbelief as he looks. “Even though this is the last thing you deserve—fuck, I should edge you ten more times before doing this, but you win. Okay? Tonight, you fuckin’ win.” Bucky rips the packet open with his teeth, and that’s when you look down.

When you notice that all this time when you leaned against his torso and rubbed yourself back on his hand, shamelessly searching for your own pleasure, Bucky had been rock hard. The tent in his pants made you almost lose every inch of composure you had—you almost drop to your knees right there and then, but you know he has other plans.

Instead, you turn around, and lean forward against the nearest surface.

You hear him curse in the back. Hear him take off his blazer, and with a side glance, see him place it next to the glass. You observe him roll up his sleeves, and for a second, your gazes meet. Bucky smiles at you, and you try your best not to wiggle your ass. When you hear the sound of his zipper, and the sound of Bucky putting on the rubber before his broad frame is clouding behind you again, you sigh, content.

It’s a hasty dream after that.

An usual song for you. The way Bucky slicks himself up with you is your bourbon, and your pussy all but sucks him in. He bottoms out with a soft grunt, and his levarage is gained by taking hold of all of your hair in one hand.

He leans in closer until his face is on the crook of your neck, and it’s with lips pressed on your earlobe that he asks, “Slow or fast, Duchess?”

You’re so close. “Fast. And deep.” You’re already half gone. “Please.”

He never fails at delivering.

This time, Bucky doesn’t stop.

When he starts, it takes only a minute for Bucky to gain momentum. He takes his time at first, angling his hips in a slightly different position at each thrusts until he finds the one that makes you clasp your hands around his with nails and all—that’s when he puts a hand over your mouth, pulls you like that until you’re half-facing him, and starts a fast, deep, and brutal pace.

He fucks you until you’re both closing your eyes at the feeling, drunk in lust and the nasty, wet sounds filling the room. Bucky snaps his hips until your eyes are rolling at the back of your head; the rhythm is everything you needed, craved for all night long.

It was your goal when you put on the dress.

The dream you had when you first saw it on a window in an unknown street.

Bucky fucks you until you’re shaking, spasming and cumming all over his dick. That’s when he finally grunts and lets it go; when he buries his face in your neck and whispers your name, his hips finally slowing down inside of you.

It takes a while before either one of you is back to reality.

He speaks up first.

“I should buy you more stuff.”

↳ my inbox 💌 | tip jar ♡ | masterlist ↲

1K notes · View notes

oomiya · 1 year

Text

✉️ 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆.

warnings : nanami kento x fem reader, smut (mdni) marriage, penetrative sex, oral (m. and f. receiving), bathing together, alcohol consumption, breast worship, cursing, very cheesy i'm so sorry, repost from my old acc !

word count : 6.5k

The bright lights from the Eiffel Tower and stars spill through your opened window and a soft breeze dances across the white chiffon curtains.

You sigh happily, leaning over the edge of the balcony’s iron-casted railing as the faint yellow lights wash over your skin. The cold metal, painted in a muted mossy green, bites into your skin as you crane your gaze to see the Eiffel Tower.

At the feeling of large hands, firm in their grasp as they press against your hips, you let an adoring smile tug at your lips. Tilting your head up, your gaze meets that of your husband’s.

Nanami Kento swears under his breath, convinced he’s died and gone to heaven. You look like an angel, body caressed in soft, off-white gossamer. It’s as if beautiful magnolias are blooming across your skin, floating along your wedding dress in a way that has Nanami wholly overwhelmed by his love for you.

“Everything okay?” he asks, voice warmed with the euphoric bliss of your vows a mere hours ago.

Nanami’s arms wind around your waist from behind, pulling your back flush against his front. He ignores the stir of arousal in his groin as you look up at him, all doe-eyed with a light joy glinting in your gaze. Kento is still so much taller than you, fingers brushing over your cheek as he presses a tender kiss to your temple.

His burning touch has you melting into him, a soft sigh falling past your lips as his lips work wonders over your sensitive skin. Kento is a bit more insistent in his touch now, fingers trembling over your body as he smooths over your hips.

“Everything is perfect,” you affirm, voice a bit breathless at his actions.

Kento can’t help but tighten his fingers around your dress, a large hand splaying across your lower abdomen to push his crotch against you. It is a playful action, yet you feel a bit dizzy when you realize your husband is already half-hard.

Your husband.

Again, the smile grows on your face, your heart twinging with happiness. The heavy weight of the ring on your finger - its pair, on Kento’s - only serves to further remind you of your marriage to the wonderful man behind you.

“My husband.”

You can’t help but remind yourself–the giddy feeling filling your chest as you move to turn around. Your skirt brushes against the ground of the tall balcony as you face Kento, raising your head to meet his purposeful gaze. The tender look on his face is breathtaking, hazel brown eyes softening as he brings a hand to caress your cheek. Kento’s touch has your lashes fluttering shut in contentment, a swelling exhilaration building in your chest.

“My wife,” Kento agrees, the slightly warm ring on his finger greeting your skin as he continues holding you. With you now facing him, the lights of Parisian nightlife as your background, Kento can finally lean down to kiss you.

It is a gentle touch, and despite it being the first night of your honeymoon, there is no ulterior motive in how he kisses you. Kento’s lips move affectionately against your own, fingers cradling the back of your neck. A pleased sound escapes his throat as his mouth parts, tongue coming to trace your bottom lip before licking into your mouth. He feels your smaller hands grip onto his hips, smiling into the kiss as you attempt to pull him closer to you.

You continue kissing like this for a few minutes - the only witness to your love being each other and the stars that shine down on you. The breathless feeling that fills your lungs is contradicting - Kento steals your air while simultaneously filling you with life.

Kento’s touch is doting, hands smoothing down the pale silks of your wedding gown as his soft lips caress yours. Both of you are smiling - sweet little kisses filled with all the promises in the world. The bustling Parisian nightlife sounds like whispers that brush against your skin, twenty floors below you; Kento and you might as well be in your own world, completely sealed away from real life.

You finally break away when his nose brushes yours, gently nudging against you to get your attention. Kento’s brown eyes are suddenly blown wide with love and lust, swimming in their dark depths and threatening to swallow you whole. Not immune to his charismatic gaze, you feel a similar bout of desire rising inside of you.

“My wife,” Kento reiterates, closing his eyes as he pulls you in for another kiss. This one is more searing, with Kento a bit more hurried and insistent in his touches.

“You look absolutely breathtaking,” he confesses, pressing his hips against yours. His breath is hot against your neck, lips brushing against the curve of your ear in a way that has you shivering against him. Kento’s strong body embraces you, arms wrapped around you protectively as you lean your head to rest against the crook of his neck.

You feel an immense warmth pool inside you at the feeling of Kento pressing against you. His touch is mouthwatering, causing you to swallow desperately at the sensation of his thick length straining against his dress pants.

A heady sound escapes from the back of his throat as your fingers trail along his hard shaft, pressing your fingertips gently against where his tip rests. Kento is sure it’s swollen and leaking by now, aroused simply by seeing the diamond ring glittering on your finger.

As his thoughts begin to roam, Kento keeps touching you, drinking in every soft sigh and delicious giggle that falls past your lips. A sense of satisfaction embraces him at the realization that it turns him on; the knowledge that you’re now his, forever, has his cock stirring in his wedding pants. Of course, you had always reassured him that you would be his forever, even before you were married. However, now that you are standing before him in your wedding dress, a ring resting on your finger to tell others that you’re a taken woman, Kento has an epiphany.

The rush of arousal that shoots to his cock is a welcome one, and the knowledge that it’s because you’re his wife has Kento feeling quite drunk.

It is surprising, seeing as he only had one glass of champagne during your wedding ceremony.

He continues littering tender, affectionate kisses against your neck as you melt into his touch. In all honesty, you think he is the one who looks breathtaking – eyes blown wide with a kind of feverish look when he pulls back, lips slightly swollen by his kisses as he holds you with such a gentle love. Kento’s blonde hair is smoothed back, but still somewhat messy due to your touch. You giggle internally, suppressing the thoughts that encourage you to muss it up even further.

“Do you feel what you do to me?” Kento questions, beginning to guide you away from the balcony. You simply hum in acknowledgment, pointedly gripping his clothed cock through his dress pants. The hiss that escapes Kento’s teeth, gritting together in pleasure at your teasing touch, has you throwing your head back in laughter.

You miss the wounded look he throws you, but you don’t miss how Kento suddenly sweeps you in his arms.

“Now you’ve done it,” he states jokingly, a teasing smile coating his words as he holds you against him.

“K-Kento! Put me down!” you squeal. Despite your words, you cling closer to him, afraid of falling but also wanting to be as close to him as possible. Kento relishes how your arms grip his neck as he crosses the threshold of your luxury hotel room.

Earlier, when you had first entered the room and set your suitcases to the side, you had given Kento a gaping look at its elegance. All he did was chuckle, a bit surprised at Gojo’s thoughtful wedding gift but overall grateful, before explaining it to you.

Feeling your fingers trace over the hairs on his neck, Kento shivers. He doesn’t bother to shut the double doors of the balcony behind him - you were on the twentieth floor, after all.

“Sorry, Mrs. Nanami. Don’t think I can do that,” Kento replies to your previous protestations, grinning around the words as he tests out your new title.

A bright smile also encompasses your face, feeling lightheaded at your new status as Kento gently places you on the plush bed. In front of you, the fireplace blazes, casting warm shadows across the room that greets the brisk breeze from the balcony.

You lean against the white pillows, feeling your body sink into the luxurious bed as Kento crawls over your body. You keep your gaze glued to him, taking in his every movement as he settles over you.

“Can I help you, Mr. Nanami?” you tease, a grin on your face as your eyes twinkle up at him. Adoring how your dress fans across the bed, pillows cradling your head like an angel’s halo, Kento can’t help but grind his hips against yours.

His actions cause you to gasp lightly, fingers tangling around his wrist as it brushes across your eyebrow.

“I don’t know, Mrs. Nanami. Can you?” Kento retorts, leaning his head down to suck bruising splotches against your skin. Humming as your fingers thread through his blonde hair, briefly thrilled at finally getting to muss it up as you imagined earlier, you give in to him.

“Let’s try this: can I help you, my husband?”

Your voice is low, lilting up with a mischievous but adoring tone as Kento works his mouth against you. At your words, he groans, pleasure pooling in his lower abdomen. His kisses turn hungrier, their soft plushness moving almost frantically against your neck and collarbones as his hips jut towards yours.

Nipping along your neck, the airy gasp you let out as Kento smirking against your skin.

“Say it again.”

He demands it, the tone in his voice dangerous and heavy with lust but still sparkling with a teasing nature. Your body trembles at his words, pressing your thighs together in a motion your husband doesn’t miss. He lodges a knee between the skirts of your dress, moving so slowly upwards until he’s pressing against your clothed center. While you clutch against him at his actions, Kento continues his slow, teasing kisses along your skin, altogether avoiding your lips in a way that have you succinctly annoyed.

Deciding to give him a taste of his own medicine, you pull away, letting your lustrous gaze meet Kento’s. His breath hitches as you break the embrace, staring down at you with a heavy-lidded look as you flutter your lashes at him.

Kento allows you to take brief control, letting your hand drag down his chest, teasing against his waist, before lightly cupping his hard cock through his pants. Your actions have him shuddering against you, gripping his fists into the bedsheets as his head falls to the crook of your neck.

Looking up at him from under your lashes, a desperate feeling overtakes you. While this teasing game of cat-and-mouse is fun, the need to have your husband inside of you, celebrating your marriage, overcomes you.

Therefore, you let your back arch into Kento, a distressed look overtaking your features as you beg for your husband.

“My husband, please touch me; I need you.”

Your words come out more tremulous than you had intended, but the visceral reaction they cause in Kento has you feeling less embarrassed.

“Fuck - anything. Anything for you,” Kento manages to get out, voice strained and body pulled taut with need.

The desperate need to have each other overcomes that to tease, and Kento’s hands are firm but gentle as they start to pull on the laces of your dress. Quickly sitting up to help him, your motions are agitated as you pull each other’s clothes off.

“Beautiful,” Kento whispers against you, lips moving against the skin of your neck in a way that has you shivering. His hold on you is so affectionate, and you almost feel like you’re drowning in his love and adoration as the layers of clothing soon disappear.

Kento stands up to kick off his pants, his body seeming to glow in the warm firelight as he pulls you up with him. He is aching for you, hands moving down and across every inch of skin that is exposed for him. His body yearns for yours as he tugs down your dress, cock twitching in his boxers at the sight of you. When the layers of lace gossamer and pearlescent satin pool at your feet, Kento’s eyes rake across your body, hungrily drinking in the sight of you bare before him.

You’re sure you look the same, both of you breathing heavily, chests heaving as you take in the sight of your spouse. Desire burns hot through your body, its evidence slicking your inner thighs at your gorgeous husband before you.

And oh - he is gorgeous. Lean, pale skin displaying smooth muscles, aching for you as his cock throbs in his boxers. His hair is now appropriately messy, blonde strands falling across his forehead in the absence of his glasses. His chest is heaving, pants spilling past his plump, soft lips as they beg to be on your body again. You can see the desire etched across his face, coating his body as his muscles ripple and lower abdomen contracts in pleasure. The soft glow of the night cascade across him, surrounding him in an ethereal glow as his brown eyes burn for you.

“Come here, please,” he pleads, strong arms reaching for you. The desperation threatens to overcome you as you appropriately reach for him, folding your hand in his as he quickly pulls you into his embrace.

When your breasts meet his bare chest, erect nipples pressing against his, Kento shudders against you. His body welcomes you, holding you gently against him as he breathlessly kisses you. Lips slanting over yours, he openly moans into your mouth, tongue licking into yours as his hands catch on your hips.

You adore his taste - that of sweet champagne, something minty, and a hint of toothpaste. The sudden intrusion of it - the idea of Kento brushing his teeth repeatedly before he walked down the aisle - has you smiling into the kiss.

Not missing a beat, Kento smiles as well; of course, he doesn’t know why you’re suddenly grinning against him, but the happiness that spreads through you is contagious, and Kento can’t help but feel it, too.

“I love you,” you tell him, pushing the words out of your chest as his fingers caress the skin of your waist.

Kento’s lips brush against yours, nudging your nose with his as you lean into his touch. “I love you too, so much,” he returns.

His gaze is heavy as he leans down, latching his mouth around one of your nipples. Moaning for him, your fingers move to tangle through his blonde hair, thighs pressing together in pleasure. Kento’s warm tongue swirls around your taut nipple, hands tightening around your hips to pull your body closer to him.

“Oh,” you moan, eyes flying open wide as he gently nibbles the skin of your breast. All you can do is clutch onto your husband, back arching into his touch as he leans his body over yours, enjoying how his wet tongue feels on your heated skin.

All you feel is bliss as Kento mouths over the underside of your breast, lips moving salaciously over the tender skin there as his other hand trails down your white panties.

He thinks it’s adorable that your underwear matches your wedding dress - something he’s sure your bridesmaids insisted on. Kento can picture it - his pretty bride getting embarrassed as your family and friends fawn over you, pushing various lingerie into your hands as you protest profusely. Kento can’t help the smile that coats his face at the picture in his head.

Kento’s fingers rub soothing circles into your skin, catching slightly at the top in what you’re sure is supposed to be a heart. It causes yours to soar in happiness and tender affection, tugging on his hair as he sucks numerous hickies onto the swell of your breasts.

When his fingers finally come to pad along your clit, bouncing teasing touches against your aching nub, your hips jut towards him. Kento starts making his lips back up the column of your neck, relishing in your sweet sounds as his wet tongue traces along the curve of your ear.

“So wet for me, gorgeous?” he teases, fingers swiping through the soaked seam of your lips before rubbing the hood of your clit.

“All for you, Kento,” you sigh, allowing him to guide you back towards the opulent bed.

His actions turn impatient, and you squeal as Kento suddenly picks you up again. Gently placing you on the bed, you get a feeling of déjà-vu.

“For the rest of our lives,” Kento continues, climbing over you to hover his body over yours. His arms come to brace himself, around the sides of your head as his fingers stroke your cheekbone. Kento’s gaze is intense, burrowing into your eyes and causing your heart to beat rapidly against your chest.

“Forever,” you whisper against him, eyes flitting between his lips and gorgeous eyes that you could drown in. Catching onto your motions, Kento does the same.

His face is so close to yours, noses brushing against each other affectionately as he settles his body on top of yours. He feels so warm, body covering yours to protect you from the harsh breeze that floats through the room. All of your senses are consumed by Kento - your smell is of him, your body feeling sensitive to his every touch as he drags his body against yours, gasping as his blonde hair caresses your cheeks.

The feeling of love you have for him overwhelms you as Kento leans forward. He captures your lips in another breathless, passionate kiss. It is one that leaves you reeling, has the room spinning around you, and all you can do is grip onto his broad shoulders as his hips press against yours. The need you feel for him clouds your mind, gaze feeling hazy at the addicting drag of his lips against yours.

“Need you, need my wife so bad,” Kento mumbles against your lips, hesitant to part from you for even a moment. The softness of his kiss has you moaning, fingering strands of his hair as you pull his muscular body against yours.

Kento hisses at the feeling of your breasts pressing against his chest, head dizzy with arousal as it spins through his head. He begins to move down your body, hands pressing down on your hips to hold you still as his wet lips linger along your body.

“Need you too, Kento,” you moan, hips jutting up as Kento settles between your thighs. Bringing his arms to wrap around the underside of them, he pulls your hips forward until you’re almost flush against his face.

You let out a loud cry as Kento immediately buries his face into your clothed cunt, head falling back against the luxurious pillows as he inhales deeply.

Kento feels inebriated off the heady scent of your arousal, digging his nose into the seam where he knows your aching clit lies. Letting his tongue lave over your clothed core, he relishes in the sounds you let out for him.

“So pretty,” he mumbles against your, tongue pressing flat against your core and dragging up the fabric. Being able to feel the wet muscle against you, warm in his ministrations, has you pressing your hands into his shoulders.

“M-more, please,” you beg, eyes blown wide with lust as your husband moves against you.

He hums, a deep sound that reverberates through his chest and your core. “My pretty wife wants more?” he asks, hands tightening around your thighs as he presses a chaste kiss to your throbbing clit.

“A-ah! Yes, please! Need you, Kento!” you cry out, fingers grasping through his hair as he teases you. Kento chuckles against you, nuzzling his face between your thighs as your chest heaves. The heat that burns in your core steadily builds as Kento pulls away, slowly dragging down the fabric. When he gets to your ankles, he tosses it away before turning back to you, and you whine when he presses a slow kiss to the skin on your ankle.

The intimate feeling in such a strange place has you whining, reaching out for Kento desperately as he makes his way back up your body.

Settling between your thighs again, he traces teasing kisses against the insides of them. “Can’t wait to taste you,” he murmurs against your skin, drinking in the taste of you.

“Please Kento, don’t tease me tonight,” you whisper into the night air, silently begging for the touch of your husband on the night of your wedding.

Heat fills his heart at your words, memories of the special day flooding his head as he finally leans down to kiss you.

When his lips meet your core, they are hot, sucking all of your arousal into his mouth. You instantly keen against him, unable to move much due to his tight hold on your hips. Kento eats you out gently, patiently. As if you have all the time in the world.

Again, the intimacy of his actions, now as husband and wife, leaves you reeling.

All you can do is moan out cries of his name between whimpered breaths, his tongue dipping inside of you to surround himself with your taste.

Groaning against you, Kento buries his head deeper, his grip harsher as he makes out messily with your cunt.

“So good,” he slurs against you, lips coming to suck on your outer lip as his tongue greedily laps up all your slickness. Writhing underneath his touch, you let out a shuddering breath as he moans against you.

When Kento’s lips wrap around your clit, sucking the swollen nub into his mouth as two of his fingers brush against your entrance, you gasp. He suckles against you, moaning into your cunt as his long fingers enter you. Not letting up his ministrations on your clit, Kento lets his spit pool onto it, swirling it around his tongue while simultaneously sucking.

“You make me feel so good, Kento!” you praise him, eyes squeezing shut in arousal as he moans for you. Tugging on his hair, Kento moves his face down lower, lips brushing against your entrance as he licks up your slit. He sloppily kisses your clit, letting his thumb pull the hood of your clit back before placing sweet kitten licks along it.

When his fingers brush against that spot that has you seeing stars, Kento begins harshly sucking on your clit, pulling it into his mouth repeatedly as his head swims in thoughts of you. Thoughts of how good you taste, completely surrounding yourself on his tongue. Thoughts of how sweet you sound, moaning into the bedroom for him. Memories of how beautiful you looked today, walking up the aisle to greet him before saying your vows.

The realization that you’re now his wife - and it has him almost cumming untouched.

Gasping against you, Kento gently shakes his head, wrapping his plump lips around your clit before suckling again. It has you keening, fingers tugging harshly against his hair to pull him away.

“K-Kento, please, want to cum around your cock,” you beg, aching to have him inside you. While his mouth feels heavenly, you know it would feel so much better to cum around his thick cock.

Kento pulls himself up your body, grinning cheekily as his hand meets your cheek. Nuzzling into his touch, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a deep kiss.

It’s the kind of kiss that has you moaning into it, eyes closed and mouth parted in breathy pants as Kento’s fingers squeeze around your hips. It’s the kind of kiss that has Kento rutting his hips against you, achingly hard against your thigh, as the pleasure swims through his head.

Suddenly feeling a bit mischievous, you sit up on your elbow, pushing Kento down as you hover over him. His eyes are wide, a shocked look painting his face as his mouth falls open in surprise. You tug at his boxers, sliding down his body and pressing wet kisses to his skin as you go. The feeling of your small hand wrapping around the thick base of his cock, running your finger down the edge of his vein, has Kento falling against the bed.

“G-god,” Kento manages to get out, stuttering in his words as his chest pants with pleasure. You can’t help but grin against him, tongue suddenly laving down the length of his shaft in a way that has him crying out for you.

Gasps of your name spill from Kento’s lips as your warm mouth surrounds him, pressing all the way down until your nose meets his groin. Kento loses all composure when you moan against him, nose nuzzling into the neat blonde curls at the base of his cock.

“F-fuck, angel,” he moans, throwing an arm to cover his embarrassingly red face as you begin moving up his cock. Your tongue trails down his shaft, mouth coming to the tip of his cock where you start sucking on him.

The taste is heavy and heady against your tongue, something that causes immense pleasure to creep up your stomach. Swiping against the bitter bead of pre-cum at his tip, you bring your hand to massage the length of his shaft.

Usually, Kento would be all for letting you go down on him; the warmth of your mouth is addicting. But now, with how your tongue traces over the tip of his cock, coming down to dig into the slit as your fingers brush his heavy balls, he doesn’t know how long he could last.

Not able to handle the intense pleasure, Kento sits up, abruptly manhandling you as he pulls you off his cock. Smiling as you squeal, Kento quickly manages to place you in the middle of the bed, strong arms enveloping you as he settles on top of you yet again.

The sheer love and desperation comes off your husband in waves, licking at your insides with a burning heat.

“Need you,” Kento explains, head tucking into the crook of your neck as he places open-mouthed kisses there. His cock is heavy where he rests between your thighs, the fat tip nudging against your leaking entrance as he begs you for your touch.

Unable to resist him, your fingers tangle through his blonde hair, pressing a loving kiss to his forehead as he ruts his hips against yours, dragging his cock through your wet folds.

“Then have me,” you whisper against his skin, tongue coming out to lick against him and take his taste into your mouth.

Moaning at your words, Kento brings his gaze down as he begins to guide his hard cock inside of you. At the sudden pressure, his swollen, red tip pressing past your tight walls, you wrap your legs around his hips.

“F-fuck,” Kento moans into your mouth, desperately capturing your lips in a dizzying kiss as he presses his cock further inside of you.

You moan loudly, overwhelmed with the sheer thickness of Kento as he continues stretching you open. He feels so good, so long and thick as he settles deep inside of you; if you focus hard enough to where the two of you are connected, you can almost feel the throbbing of a vein on the underside of his shaft.

His hands come to catch against your hips, unable to help himself as he starts pulling out again.

“F-feels so good, angel,” he moans, pressing his forehead to yours as he rests the tip of his cock inside your wet walls. You were absolutely gushing around him, completely soaked from his previous ministrations and the feeling of his bare cock fucking you open.

A heat flickers across Kento’s cheeks as he pushes back in, rolling his hips over yours to allow the delicious curve of his cock to fully stretch you open.

Kento is fixated on the feel of the dragging of his cock against your hot, tight walls, unable to help himself as he stops his thrusts. Instead, he fits himself flush inside you, heavy cockhead bruising your cervix as he slowly rolls his hips in a circular motion. The new sensation has your eyes flying open, clutching onto his broad shoulders as Kento sits up slightly.

His hand roves over your hip, holding your leg open to gently rock his cock inside you. When you moan out for him, falling back against the pillows and clamping hard around his cock, Kento almost falls forward.

“Yes, Kento, just like that, please,” you whine, pressing your cheek into the soft pillow behind your head. Kento simply continues his languid thrusts, pulling out until the tip of his cock is heavy inside you, then lazily pressing his cock into your tight walls.

His technique has you keening, hips jumping forward every time he grinds his hips against yours. When he thrusts back in, Kento makes sure to stay flush inside you, pressing as deep into you as possible, and then circles his hips. The grinding of his cock inside you has a moan ripping from his chest, pressing his pelvis against your aching clit before pulling out to do it again.

The dragging of his cock along your sensitive walls has you reaching for him, and Kento readily obliges. He leans down, entwining your fingers together and holding hands, and he presses you against the mattress.

Kento groans against your cheek, eyes fluttering shut at the intense pleasure of your cunt sucking in his cock. He feels as if he could choke with how your tight walls press against his shaft, massaging the base of his cock as he pulls out, before sucking him back in and crushing his swollen head with your gushing cunt.

“My wife, my wife,” Kento repeats in a daze against your skin, his lazy thrusts inside you turning a bit more desperate as one hand trails down to circle your clit. When you tighten even harder around him, moaning into his mouth as he kisses you deeply, Kento lets curses spill into your mouth.

“M-my husband,” you repeat, in a daze equal to his own. A pleasured haze overcomes the both of you, overwhelmed by how good the other feels as you fuck each other. Kento drives his hips forward again, obsessed with how your cunt takes him in so readily, his hips shuddering against yours when his leaking head presses against your cervix.

Amidst your moans, Kento feels your wedding rings press into his skin, and the clenching feeling in his chest threatens to burst. His hips stutter, heart constricting with love as he brings your hand up to his lips.

Your fucked-out gaze meets his as he presses a sloppy kiss to your wedding ring, hips reaching out for his as he thrusts deeply back inside you. Letting your lips fall open at the intimate way he kisses your wedding ring, you can’t help but clench down even tighter on him.

Kento swears he almost dies when you repeat his actions, bringing your lips to brush over his wedding ring as well. He feels a swell of pleasure gather at the base of his cock, gaze focused intensely where your soft lips move over his ring finger.

It is a possessive and comforting action - one that reminds you both of the infinite promises made today.

Kento loves how your body trembles under his touch, crying out for him as your pussy attempts to milk his cock dry. He rocks up against the softness of your body, gentle shudders heaving across his chest as your arms wind around his broad shoulders. Nanami’s wet lips scour your neck; his deep, heavy pants make you squirm as his cock abuses the cushy spot inside your walls.

The delicious ache between your thighs is something you want – something you need – as his thick cock fits itself snugly inside you. You moan when he pulls out again, burying his cock inside of you at a fast pace. He pushes past your tight walls, a shuddering groan rippling from his chest at the familiar feeling of you tightening around him.

Knowing he’s about to cum deep inside you, Kento leans down to steal your lips in a sweet kiss, circling your clit with heavy pets as he makes love to you.

“Today - hah - I-I promise you this,” Kento starts, pressing his head to your forehead again as he breaks away from the kiss. Your chest swells with love at realizing that these are his vows - the vows he just shared with you mere hours ago.

“K-Kento,” you keen, the feeling of his cock burying inside of you causing you to feel dizzy with pleasure.

“I’ve fallen in love with you again and again,” your husband continues, rubbing hazy circles on your aching nub as the pleasure threatens to snap inside you.

“Countless times, without reservation,” you continue for him, adoring how his head falls to the crook of your neck when he groans.

“My heart beats for you. And on this day, the day of our wedding - “ he breaks off his word with a heavy groan, the fat tip of his cock pressing against your bundle of nerves and shaft dragging along your walls.

“I-I promise to lay my heart in the palm of your hands,” you state, closing your eyes in the memories of his sweet promises.

He works his cock expertly, thrusting up inside you as your pussy gushes all over him. He has difficulty pulling out, your heavenly cunt attempting to suck him back inside of you and keep him there.

Kento’s actions have his chest filling with electricity, muscles pulling taut as his arms brace himself beside your head. His usual neat hair hangs in messy, sweaty waves, falling over his features as he looks at you and your pussy, sucking him in with a heavy gaze.

“I promise you me,” Kento finishes, unable to repress the deep pleasure that starts to overcome him.

“Want you to cum with me, please,” you plead in his ear, biting down lightly on the shell of it. Kento continuously grinds inside your gummy walls in just the right way. His hips adjust their angle, fucking up into you in a way that has his cock pushing against your cervix over and over.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the combined feeling of his cock nudging your sweet spot, thumb expertly nudging your clit with a precision that causes you to finally let go.

All you can do is wrap your arms tightly around him, moaning sweetly into his ear as he fucks you through your high. Your pussy creams around him so good, clamping down tightly on his leaking cockhead in a way that has the coil inside him snapping.

“Fuck,” Kento exclaims, hissing as his cock continues dragging along your sensitive walls while he pumps you full of his thick cum. The feeling of your pussy milking him, taking all of his load greedily, has Kento feeling lightheaded, arms wrapping around you as he holds you possessively against him.

The weight of him is comfortingly heavy, hips beginning to slow until the both of you are shaking with overstimulation. Kento keeps fucking his cum into you, ensuring you take all of what he has to offer as his gaze follows his cock. The creamy, combined cum coating his cock has him taking a shuddering breath, watching your pussy clench as he pushes back inside of you and finally stills.

“You. You’re everything,” Kento confesses as he gently lies down next to you, shaking in pleasure. Throwing a heavy arm over your body, he pulls you to him, desperate to feel any inch of skin you give him.

Later, in the sinking warmth of the large bathtub, Kento wraps his arms around you again. Your rings still rest against your fingers, and Kento gently plays with them through the bubbles. You let your head loll back to rest against his chest, relishing in his sweet gestures.

Kento’s body is firm and steady against yours, a hand pressing against your lower stomach as he simply touches you. The heat from the bath causes steam to rise among you, caressing the tiled walls in their coolness. The window is open so you can spy glimpses of the Eiffel Tower, soft candlelight flickering shadows across the tiles as Kento presses lazy kisses against your wet skin.

“You’re everything too, Kento,” you state softly, closing your eyes in pleasure as his soft lips travel to the base of your neck.

Entwining your fingers together in a sweet embrace, Kento questions you. “What’s that, angel?”

Your smile is not lost on him as you lean back, Kento’s legs spreading so you can settle between his thighs.

“What you said earlier. Those were your vows, right?” you tease gently, poking his side underneath the water. A glass of chilled champagne passes through Kento’s lips, and he easily grasps your jaw to draw you closer. Enamored by his actions, you let your husband softy pry your mouth open, pressing a sweet kiss against you and letting you drink the fancy champagne from his mouth.

You shudder at his sensual actions, not missing how his cock twitches against your backside and his arms tighten around your waist. The sweet champagne is slightly warm as it slips down your throat, the lovely buzz of love filling your veins as you kiss Kento again.

“Maybe,” he murmurs against your lips, fingers tracing invisible shapes against your skin.

“Maybe?” you retort, your brow raising in faux suspicion at your husband. Kento simply blushes.

Chuckling softly, Kento brings his thumb to hook on the bottom of your lip. Pulling it back, he lets it fall back into place, eyes watching your every movement as he leans forward for another passionate kiss.

“Definitely,” Kento rectifies when he pulls away, sighing happily as he sinks back into the blissful water. Scents of vanilla and sugared cashmere waft through the air, the bubbles feeling soft and luxurious against your skin as your fingers thrum over Kento’s body.

“I love you,” is all you can say, melting against his enduring love and affection as the water ripples over your skin. A warmth floods Kento’s chest, causing his heart to drum against his chest at the addicting feel of your love.

“I love you too,” Kento returns, a giddy, lovesick smile adorning his features as he holds you.

Yes, this is it. This is the happiness you sought all your life - the love of Nanami Kento. He is everything, just as you are his. And now you would be together forever, bound in the most intimate way as husband and wife.

#jjk smut #nanami smut #jjk x reader #nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #x fem reader #heart divider / mdni banner by my love @imlevis <3

883 notes · View notes