chapter 1-8

After Hours
A Nanami Kento x Reader Story


Chapter 1: Overtime
The Tokyo Jujutsu High administrative building was eerily quiet at 9 PM, most sorcerers having gone home hours ago. Most, but not all. You gathered your reports, stifling a yawn as you prepared to finally call it a night, when you noticed the light still on in the office across the hall.

Nanami Kento sat behind his desk, glasses perched on his nose, tie still perfectly knotted despite the late hour. His concentration was absolute as he reviewed mission reports, occasionally making notes in his precise handwriting.

You knocked softly on his doorframe. "Working late again?"

He looked up, and something in his expression softened when he saw you. "I could ask you the same thing."

"Touché." You leaned against the doorframe, noting the way his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong forearms. "But I'm actually leaving. You should too."

"Just finishing up a few things." He gestured to the stack of papers on his desk. "These reports won't file themselves."

"They'll still be there tomorrow." You stepped into his office, close enough to catch the subtle scent of his cologne—something clean and expensive. "When's the last time you went home before midnight?"

He was quiet for a moment, considering. "Tuesday."

"Nanami, it's Friday."

A ghost of a smile played at his lips. "Point taken."

You moved closer, noting the slight tension in his shoulders, the way he rolled his neck to work out a kink. Without thinking, you found yourself behind his chair.

"You're all knotted up," you observed, hands hovering just over his shoulders. "May I?"

He went very still. "You don't have to—"

"I want to." Your hands settled on his shoulders, feeling the tension coiled in his muscles. "Is this okay?"

His breath caught slightly. "Yes."

You began working at the knots in his shoulders, applying gentle pressure. He relaxed under your touch, a soft sound escaping his lips that made heat pool in your stomach.

"Better?" you asked, your voice softer than intended.

"Much." His voice was rougher than usual. "You're very good at this."

Your hands moved to the base of his neck, fingers working along the column of his throat. He tilted his head forward, giving you better access, and you caught a glimpse of the strong line of his neck disappearing into his collar.

"You work too hard," you murmured, leaning closer without thinking. Close enough that your breath stirred his hair.

"Someone has to." But his voice lacked conviction.

"Not tonight." Your hands stilled on his shoulders. "Tonight, you should go home. Get some rest."

He turned in his chair then, looking up at you with an expression you couldn't quite read. His eyes were darker than usual, pupils dilated in the dim light of his office.

"And what about you?" he asked quietly. "What are your plans for tonight?"

The question hung between you, loaded with possibilities. You were suddenly very aware of how close you were standing, how the late hour and empty building created an intimacy that didn't exist during normal work hours.

"I don't have any," you admitted.

Something shifted in his expression. "Neither do I."


Chapter 2: Unraveling
"Would you like to get dinner?" The question slipped out before you could stop it.

Nanami's eyebrows rose slightly. "It's past nine."

"So? There are places open late. Unless you'd rather go home to..." you trailed off, realizing you had no idea what his personal life looked like.

"To an empty apartment and leftover takeout?" He stood, suddenly close enough that you had to look up to meet his eyes. "Dinner sounds infinitely better."

Twenty minutes later, you found yourself in a small, dimly lit restaurant that stayed open late for the business crowd. The atmosphere was intimate, all warm lighting and quiet conversations.

"I have to admit," Nanami said, loosening his tie slightly, "this is much better than my usual Friday night routine."

"Which is?"

"Paperwork, a glass of wine, and whatever's in my refrigerator." He smiled ruefully. "Not exactly exciting."

"Sounds lonely."

"It is." The admission was quiet, honest. "But it's simpler that way."

"Simpler than what?"

He was quiet for a long moment, swirling the wine in his glass. "Than letting people get close. This job... it's dangerous. People get hurt."

"People get hurt anyway," you said softly. "At least if you let them close, you have something good to balance out the bad."

His eyes met yours across the table. "Is that what you think? That the good outweighs the bad?"

"I think life's too short to spend it alone out of fear."

Something flickered in his expression—vulnerability, perhaps, or longing. "You're very wise."

"I'm very tired of watching good people punish themselves for things beyond their control."

The words hung between you, heavy with meaning. You both knew you weren't just talking about work anymore.

"And what about you?" he asked. "What do you do when you're not filing reports and giving unsolicited shoulder massages?"

You laughed. "Was it unsolicited? You seemed to enjoy it."

His cheeks colored slightly. "I did. More than I should have."

The admission sent heat curling through your chest. "Why more than you should have?"

"Because..." He paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. "Because I've been thinking about you. More than is appropriate for a colleague."

Your heart skipped. "Nanami..."

"I know it's unprofessional. I know it complicates things." He leaned forward slightly, voice dropping. "But I can't seem to stop."

"What if I told you I've been thinking about you too?"

His breath caught. "Have you?"

"Every day." You reached across the table, fingers brushing against his. "Every time I see you in the office, every time you smile at me in the hallway. I've been wondering what it would be like if we were more than just colleagues."

His hand turned palm up, fingers interlacing with yours. "It would be complicated."

"Most good things are."

"We work together."

"So do lots of couples."

"We're sorcerers. The mortality rate—"

"Nanami." You squeezed his hand. "Are you trying to talk yourself out of this?"

He was quiet for a moment, thumb stroking across your knuckles. "I'm trying to be responsible."

"What if I don't want you to be responsible tonight?"

His eyes darkened. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying maybe we've both been responsible long enough. Maybe it's time to do something just because we want to."


Chapter 3: Boundaries
The walk back to your apartment was charged with tension. Nanami had insisted on walking you home—ever the gentleman—but the air between you crackled with unspoken possibilities.

"This is me," you said, stopping in front of your building.

He nodded, hands in his pockets, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. "I should probably—"

"Would you like to come up?" The invitation tumbled out before you could second-guess yourself. "For coffee, I mean. Or... whatever."

Something flickered in his eyes. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Because if I come up, I'm not going to want to leave." His honesty was brutal and beautiful. "And I'm not sure I have the self-control to keep this professional."

Your heart hammered against your ribs. "What if I don't want you to keep it professional?"

He stepped closer, close enough that you could see the conflict warring in his expression. "You don't know what you're asking."

"I know exactly what I'm asking." You reached up, fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "The question is whether you want it too."

His eyes fluttered closed at your touch. "You have no idea how much I want it."

"Then come upstairs."

For a moment, you thought he might refuse. Then his resolve cracked.

"This is a mistake," he murmured, but he was already following you toward the building entrance.

"Probably," you agreed, heart racing as you fumbled with your keys. "But I'm tired of being good all the time."

The elevator ride to your floor was silent but charged. You could feel his presence like a physical weight, the careful distance he maintained doing nothing to dampen the awareness crackling between you.

Your apartment was small but cozy, though you barely noticed the familiar surroundings with Nanami filling the space. He stood near the door, looking around with careful eyes.

"Nice place," he said, though his voice was distracted.

"Thank you." You set your bag down, suddenly nervous. "I'll put some coffee on."

"I don't want coffee."

The words stopped you in your tracks. You turned to find him watching you with an intensity that made your knees weak.

"What do you want?" you asked softly.

Instead of answering with words, he crossed the space between you in three strides. His hands framed your face, thumbs stroking across your cheekbones.

"I want you," he said, voice rough with honesty. "I've wanted you for months. You drive me crazy, do you know that? The way you bite your lip when you're concentrating, the way you laugh at my terrible jokes, the way you look at me like you see something worth seeing."

"I do see something worth seeing," you whispered.

"What?"

"A good man who deserves to be happy."

Something broke in his expression. "You're going to ruin me."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Probably." But he was already leaning down, mouth hovering just above yours. "But I don't care anymore."


Chapter 4: Control
When he finally kissed you, it was with a controlled passion that made your head spin. His lips were firm but gentle, tasting of wine and promise. You melted into him, hands fisting in his shirt as he backed you toward the couch.

"Are you sure?" he asked against your lips, even as his hands slid down your sides.

"I've never been more sure of anything," you breathed.

That seemed to be all the permission he needed. His careful control began to slip, kisses becoming more urgent, hands more bold in their exploration. When he sat down and pulled you onto his lap, you both groaned at the contact.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured against your throat, lips trailing down the column of your neck. "So perfect."

Your hands worked at the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel skin against skin. When you finally pushed the fabric off his shoulders, you couldn't help but stare. His body was lean and strong, marked with scars that spoke of his dangerous profession.

"Your turn to stare," he said, echoing your thoughts with a smile.

"I'm not staring," you protested, even as your hands mapped the planes of his chest. "I'm appreciating."

His laugh was low and warm. "Appreciate all you want. But I plan to return the favor."

True to his word, his hands found the hem of your blouse, fingers dancing along the skin he revealed. His touch was reverent, like he was memorizing every inch of you.

"Beautiful," he whispered, pressing kisses to your collarbone. "So beautiful."

The slow burn of his seduction was driving you crazy. Every touch was calculated to drive you higher, every kiss placed with precision. It was maddening and perfect and everything you'd imagined.

"Nanami," you gasped, grinding down against his lap.

"Kento," he corrected, voice rough. "Call me Kento."

"Kento." His name on your lips seemed to undo something in him. His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer.

"I love the way you say my name," he admitted, mouth finding yours again. "I've imagined it so many times."

"Have you?" You nipped at his lower lip. "What else have you imagined?"

His answer was to stand suddenly, lifting you with him. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively as he carried you toward the bedroom.

"Everything," he said, voice dark with promise. "I've imagined everything."


Chapter 5: Surrender
Your bedroom was bathed in moonlight streaming through the curtains, casting everything in silver shadows. Kento set you down gently beside the bed, hands framing your face as he looked at you with something approaching reverence.

"Last chance to change your mind," he said softly.

"Never." You reached for his belt, fingers working at the buckle. "I want this. I want you."

His breath hitched as your hands found him, his careful control finally beginning to crack. "God, you're going to kill me."

"What a way to go," you teased, but your voice was breathless.

He laughed, the sound turning into a groan as you touched him more deliberately. "Minx."

"Your minx," you corrected, and something in his expression went soft and wondering.

"Mine," he agreed, and then he was kissing you again with desperate intensity.

What followed was a dance of give and take, of whispered endearments and gentle exploration. Kento was a thorough lover, taking his time to learn what made you gasp, what made you arch beneath him. His mouth and hands mapped every inch of your body with patient dedication.

"So responsive," he murmured against your skin, voice rough with want. "So perfect for me."

When he finally joined with you, both of you cried out at the sensation. He stilled, giving you time to adjust, his forehead pressed against yours.

"Okay?" he asked, voice tight with restraint.

"Perfect," you whispered, rolling your hips to encourage him to move.

He set a rhythm that was both tender and passionate, each movement calculated to bring you maximum pleasure. His eyes never left yours, the intimacy of the eye contact almost overwhelming.

"I love you," he said suddenly, the words torn from his throat like a confession.

Your heart stopped. "What?"

"I love you," he repeated, movements never faltering. "I know it's too soon, I know it's crazy, but I can't hold it back anymore."

Tears pricked at your eyes. "I love you too."

Something in his expression cracked open. "Really?"

"Really." You pulled him down for a kiss that was more emotion than technique. "I love you, Kento."

The confession seemed to break the last of his restraint. His movements became more urgent, more desperate, as he chased both your pleasure and his own. When your climax hit, it was with a force that left you seeing stars, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

He followed moments later, your name on his lips as he buried his face in your neck, body trembling with the force of his release.

For a long moment, you lay tangled together, breathing hard and shaking with aftershocks. His arms tightened around you, holding you close against his chest.

"That was..." you started, then trailed off, unable to find adequate words.

"Life-changing," he finished, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

You turned in his arms to look at him, struck by how different he looked in the aftermath. The careful composure was gone, replaced by something raw and beautiful.

"No regrets?" you asked softly.

"None." He smiled, soft and genuine. "You?"

"Only that we waited so long."


Chapter 6: Morning Light
You woke to the unfamiliar but wonderful sensation of someone's arms around you. Kento was still there, still holding you, his breathing deep and even. In the morning light streaming through your windows, you could study his face properly.

The sharp angles were softened in sleep, making him look younger, more peaceful. His blonde hair was mussed from your fingers, and there was a small smile playing at his lips.

"Enjoying the view?" he asked without opening his eyes.

"Very much." You traced a finger along his jaw, marveling at the way he leaned into your touch. "Sleep well?"

"Better than I have in years." His eyes opened, focusing on you with warm affection. "You?"

"Perfectly." You snuggled closer, enjoying the way his arms tightened around you. "What time is it?"

He glanced at the clock on your nightstand. "Just past seven."

"We should probably get up soon." But you made no move to leave the warmth of his embrace.

"Should we?" His hand traced lazy patterns on your back. "It's Saturday."

"True." You grinned up at him. "No work today."

"No work," he agreed, leaning down to kiss you softly. "Just us."

The kiss was gentle but quickly deepened, your body responding to his touch with an enthusiasm that surprised you. When you broke apart, both of you were breathing harder.

"Again?" you asked, already knowing the answer from the way his eyes darkened.

"If you want to," he said, though his hands were already moving across your skin.

"I always want to," you admitted. "Is that terrible?"

"It's perfect." He rolled you onto your back, settling over you with a smile. "We have all day."

"All day?"

"All weekend, if you'll have me."

The promise in his voice made your heart flutter. "I'll have you for as long as you want to stay."

"Careful," he warned, but his smile was soft. "I might never leave."

"Promise?"

Instead of answering with words, he showed you exactly how much he wanted to stay, worshipping your body with a reverence that left you breathless and aching. This time was different—slower, more tender, but no less intense.


Chapter 7: New Rhythms
The weekend passed in a blur of lazy mornings, shared meals, and passionate encounters. By Sunday evening, you'd fallen into an easy rhythm that felt like you'd been together for years rather than days.

"I should probably go home," Kento said, though he made no move to get up from where he was lying on your couch, your head on his chest.

"Should you?" You traced patterns on his shirt, enjoying the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear.

"I need clean clothes for tomorrow." His hand stroked through your hair. "And so do you."

"I could call in sick."

"You could." His voice was amused. "But you won't."

"No, I won't." You sighed dramatically. "Curse my work ethic."

"It's one of the things I love about you."

The casual way he said it made your heart skip. Love. It still felt new and wonderful and slightly terrifying.

"What happens tomorrow?" you asked softly.

"What do you mean?"

"At work. Do we pretend this didn't happen? Do we tell people? Do we—"

"Hey." He tilted your chin up to meet his eyes. "We don't have to figure it all out tonight. We'll take it one day at a time."

"But what do you want?"

He was quiet for a moment, considering. "I want to see where this goes. I want to take you on proper dates, meet your friends, maybe introduce you to the few people I actually like." He smiled. "I want to build something real with you."

"Even though it's complicated?"

"Especially because it's complicated." His hand cupped your face. "The best things in life usually are."

"What about work?"

"We'll be professional during work hours. But after hours..." His eyes darkened with promise. "After hours, you're mine."

The possessiveness in his voice sent heat curling through your belly. "Yours?"

"If you want to be."

"I do." You leaned up to kiss him softly. "I really do."

"Good." He deepened the kiss, hands tightening on your waist. "Because I'm not letting you go."


Chapter 8: Ever After
Six months later, you were still working late—but now you had company. Kento sat across from you in the break room, both of you finishing up reports over takeout containers.

"Remember when you used to work late alone?" you asked, stealing a piece of his tempura.

"Vaguely." He handed you another piece without protest. "I can't imagine why I thought that was preferable to this."

"This being eating lukewarm takeout in a break room?"

"This being eating lukewarm takeout in a break room with you." He smiled, the expression soft and genuine. "Everything's better with you."

Your heart still fluttered when he said things like that. "Sap."

"Your sap."

"My sap," you agreed, reaching across the table to take his hand.

The ring on your finger caught the light—a simple band he'd given you just last week, not quite an engagement ring but more than a promise. "Someday," he'd said when he slipped it onto your finger. "When we're ready."

You were ready now, but you knew he needed time to adjust to the idea of a future that included more than just work and solitude. That was okay. You had time.

"Ready to go home?" he asked, gathering up the empty containers.

"Our home," you corrected, still getting used to the idea. You'd moved in together just last month, combining your small apartment with his slightly larger one.

"Our home," he agreed, voice warm with satisfaction.

The walk home was comfortable, your hand in his, talking about everything and nothing. When you reached your building, he stopped suddenly.

"What is it?" you asked.

"I just..." He turned to face you, expression serious. "I want you to know how happy you make me. I never thought I could have this—a normal relationship, a home, someone who loves me despite everything."

"Because of everything," you corrected. "I love you because of who you are, not despite it."

"I love you too." He cupped your face in his hands. "More than I ever thought possible."

"Show me," you whispered, and he did, kissing you right there on the sidewalk like a man who'd found his home.

Later, as you lay in bed together, his arm around you and your head on his chest, you reflected on how much had changed. The careful, controlled man you'd first known was still there, but now you also knew the passionate, tender man beneath the surface.

"No regrets?" you asked softly, echoing your question from months ago.

"None," he said firmly. "Best decision I ever made."

"What was?"

"Letting you convince me to stop being so responsible all the time."

You laughed, pressing a kiss to his chest. "I'm very persuasive."

"You're very dangerous," he corrected, but his voice was fond. "Dangerously perfect for me."

"I love you, Kento."

"I love you too." His arms tightened around you. "Forever."

As you drifted off to sleep in the arms of the man you loved, you couldn't help but smile. Sometimes the best things in life were worth waiting for, worth fighting for, worth taking risks for.

And Kento Nanami was definitely worth everything.


End