I'm Screaming!!!!😍😍😍🥰🥰🥰🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥂🍾 I Need Priest Nanami

I'm screaming!!!!😍😍😍🥰🥰🥰🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥂🍾 I need priest nanami in my life!!!

SUNDAY’S BEST

Ft. NANAMI KENTO

𐐪𐑂 ♡ ｡ﾟ ━━━PAIRINGS: Preacher Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader

𐐪𐑂 ♡ ｡ﾟ ━━━CW: barely any religious mentions, established marriage, dub-con, somnophila, oral(f. receiving), cum eating, fingering, (f)masturbation, car sex, mating press, heavy breeding kink, public(ish) sex, creampie

𐐪𐑂 ♡ ｡ﾟ ━━━WORD COUNT: 3.5k

𐐪𐑂 ♡ ｡ﾟ ━━━FROM CHRIS: I mean…it’s nasty. But believe it or not, i rlly love Nanami :3

A preacher’s child.

They say the life of one is filled with the hardest expectations to fill. Constantly being judged, constantly under watch, and constantly forced to hide their true selves. The unrealistic standards shroud their thoughts and the forced reputation of the family name and honor hinders their every move.

Secrets become the only choice and the dark side of their lives becomes a relief. Their days are filled with nothing but being the “good kid” and the “best role model for all” who pass through the holy doors every Sunday morning.

But…does anyone ever wonder about the preacher’s wife? 

The one who shines above all just for ditching her maiden name for one doused in holy virtue. The one who has no choice but to have a warm and welcoming heart for everyone scattered about the church. The traits of kind and gentle are immediately attached to her name, assuming the same temperate position as the preacher. 

She’s never found too far from her husband either, usually residing at the very front of the pews, hands politely folded atop the plush curve of her tightly pursed thigh. She could be found there every Sunday, even Wednesdays if a bible study was called for. The kind, gentle woman who supports her husband with the occasional glimmering smiles of white and endearing head nods of reassurance. 

All while trying extra hard to keep those pesky rivulets of white seeping through her panties from wandering onto the sacred scene. 

It’s a reality some could never dream of, but one you couldn’t have thought would be shown to you by the town’s very own beloved Nanami Kento. 

Righteous in front of others but salacious when with you—just the traits picked up by his youth. He was once known as the preacher’s kid, quiet and reserved with only a collection of words to say. He only ever did speak when spoken to, could recite ten verses with ease, and was honored as the perfect child. 

Since your younger days as well, you pondered all too aimlessly about Nanami. He was never found with a genuine smile or tone, never was found playing after service with the other children, or even strolling around the neighborhoods with a friend or two.

Pity stained your tongue unwantingly, the urge to help him being repressed by other thoughts. All you could’ve done was pray that he’d be freed of what troublesome chains held onto him, that one day life would hold no limits for him in the days to come. 

Though, such prayers could have never prepared you for today’s realities, Nanami now pursuing priesthood with you as his bride. 

Since taking on the role of wife and finally entering the daily life of Nanami Kento, there were a couple of things to make note of. 

One: he was nothing of what his former timid character made him out to be, now becoming more vocal with his wants and needs. 

Two: as much as he enjoyed a set order and routine, Nanami welcomed life’s spontaneous moments all the same. 

And lastly: his stamina was one for the books.

It’s a blessing to him honestly, being rewarded with a beautiful woman like yourself. Truth be told, he’s had his eye on you since your shared days of youth. If not for the buried confidence and the shielding of negative thoughts, he would have never taken the first step to pursue a relationship with you.

But it was only with you that Nanami found himself reaching deep within to discover who he truly was. 

A man forever indicted in carnal lust.

He knew it from the first date and withdrew from it until your wedding night, wanting to tear and replace every bit of clothing from your body with his own warmth. There wasn’t a night he remembered where he didn’t wish to indulge in you, sending the thick crown of his cock to kiss at your cervix.

There wasn’t a night where Nanami didn’t want to fill your ears with nothing but the sound of him and him only, spilling the slurred speech of how well your pussy could take him. He was driven near mad in all honesty. Restraint was the only thing, wanting to holdfast onto what morals remained. 

Yet, marriage only seemed to bring all this rush of desire and more to light, Nanami now harboring the urge to fill your cunt with the white-hot pools of his cum. It was a rush that he wouldn’t trade for all the money in the world. Just to feel how his tummy would tense, skin running hot with a licking heat, and his mind thrown into complete turmoil—all to hear you squeal at the addictive sensation was all he needed. 

But there came a condition with his sudden obsession; he would only do so on a Sunday—both before and after service. He couldn’t tell you why but he swore it was only on Sundays that he felt heavier, neediest, and too pent up for words.

So, on the days that Sunday did roll around, he’d wake up a whole hour before you did, his eyes cracking at six o’clock sharp. He’ll lay there for a few minutes, heavy lids perched on the sight of you—his sleeping beauty laying without the duvet’s restriction to his eye.

He breathed it all in, from the small pout consuming your lips, the silky cream night slip dress rising with your flooding chest, down to the precious moans mindlessly leaving from you. He often found himself, sneaking a hand behind his briefs to lace around the thick girth of his shaft. A subtle squeeze led to a groan of deliverance he couldn’t afford. 

He picked himself up from beside you, carefully slotting his body between what space was offered by your thighs. The mattress only caved to his body’s contours, sinking especially deep around his perched forearms. His hands cup at your inner thigh, the pulsing pry granting him more room for comfort. 

Nanami knows just how much you look forward to Sundays too, your excitement leading you to take the proactive route. That fact alone is why Nanami’s greeted by the sight of your bare cunt, the pads of his fingers gravitating to the puffy lips. The initial skim of his touch is nothing short of gentle and lingering, minding that he doesn’t slip any further. 

It’s when Nanami’s fingers finally pull apart the lips of your cunt that he falters, allowing a shushed “fuck” to fall from his lips. Even beneath the sun’s latent rays of light, he can see all he needs too—the soft curves of your folds sticky and ridden in slick, the dormant hood of your clit throbbing with the heat of greed.

There’s nothing that really comes to mind when Nanami’s like this, biting back the urge to smother your pussy in his ministrations. But he wants to tease you, bring you to a point just to take it all back. His thumb retires from rest, softly swiping at your clit for his own self-amusement. 

There’s something in it for him, more than his pleasure and more than your orgasm. What Nanami really loved about your pussy was the response, being able to visually watch every single one of his actions settle into your core. Everything he does comes back to him, either in a twitch, a fluttering gasp, or even the uncontrollable spasms of a squirt. 

But for today, all Nanami sought after was for the cute bulb of nerves to kiss at his tongue with a prickling streak of pleasure. He was too quick to remove his essence sullied thumb from you, eyes hinged onto the thinning trail connecting you both. His tongue hurried to replace the fading warmth by pressing against your folds, the delicate sheets parting around him.

What pulls the breathless moan from his chest is you, the rivulets of your taste drizzled all over his tongue. He still can’t believe that a few lazy swirls from his thumb could stir you up like this, enough to get you this wet but still casted away by sleep’s hand.

Either way, a complaint couldn’t have fallen from his lips. Instead, Nanami had a tranquil notion in his mind to take control, his eyes coming to a fluttering shut. It’s why his tongue can drag up to your clit ever so slowly, just to drag down to your slit swiftly.

When he does return to the glimmering bud, it’s nothing but careful nudges. He can feel it too, how your clit begins to harden against him, how the blood all falls to meet his touch. It’s the hot pulses that turn Nanami on all the more, almost as if you’re begging for a break. 

And maybe if he wasn’t so far gone, he’d give you that well-deserved break. Yet, he shines a grin fit for the devil at how generously swollen the tender pearl’s become. It’s a sign of just how close you are and who was he to deny you of any pleasure?

His lips come to a close just above your pussy, sealing off your clit within. Cheeks are hollowed and Nanami can’t control anything else from that point on—not that he really wanted to. It’s out of the kindness of his heart that Nanami’s thumb drifts between your folds once more, grazing along the gummy sheets to soothe over the incoming high. 

Unfortunately, poor Nanami’s so invested in you that he doesn’t notice your hand landing on his head, lithe fingers grappling through the bed of untamed blonde. He doesn’t even notice your hips shuddering from him, trying to pull back from the onslaughts of his worked jaw.

It’s not until Nanami finally decides to greet you that he notices how soaked the bed is underneath you or how his chin faces the same fate. All he does is bring his lips to ghost over the adorably perked hood, ending it all off with a kiss. 

“G’Morning, Sweetheart. Let’s get ready for service, yeah?”

That’s all he leaves you off on, a smug smile and some words before his feet hit the hardwood floor of your bedroom. It’s become normal to him but indescribable for you. As to how he can brush off his lustful whims in an instant fell nothing short of a mystery —considering how the proof laid right before your eyes. Even with disbelief written on your face and a chest desperate for air, you still cared to trudge behind Nanami to start your day.

The clock sits at seven-thirty by the time you and Nanami settle into the car. It’s almost like a clean slate had been taken upon by you both, dressed in the cleanest of attire. His once untamed blonde locks were replaced with his usual style, nothing a pull of a comb couldn’t fix.

A plain navy suit found itself onto Nanami’s body with not a wrinkle in sight. Yet as for you, Nanami really couldn’t keep his eyes off you. In your opinion, it was a lackluster black dress and paired heels that suited anyone at any time. In his opinion, it was everything he lived for. 

When Nanami turns his head to feed his excitement of you, he’s met with the sight he’ll never get over: you with closed eyes, biting down on your finger out of concern. Legs parted just slightly with a small hand tucked beneath your dress. The silent squelches tell Nanami all he needs to know—you were stretching yourself out just for him.  

He gawks at you for just another moment, turning his sights back onto the road in silence. It’s the awkwardness instilled in Nanami that gets him so flustered, a feeling he knows may never overcome.

You being the only other woman in his life weren’t much help either. There are still days when he’ll come to a loss of words, falling into a mindless ramble out of embarrassment. His composure’s lost to the stars and suddenly coherency is out of his reach.

For now, he braces himself for as long as he could, his hand gripping the steering wheel that much tighter until he arrives at the quaint lone-standing building known as the church. But he dare to not stare at the sacred home, his hungered eyes tracing something more interesting. 

A display of mindless behavior really, Nanami’s hand latching onto your wrist. He pulls your hand from between your thighs slowly, fetching the glistening digits to his lips. Of course, he’ll stare right at you as he’s busy cleaning up your mess, his tongue following the glossy strings laid about. It’s only when a simple question rolls from his mouth that you can comprehend his current state of mind. 

“I think we can squeeze a quickie in, what about you?”

You offer him a weak nod before climbing into the backseat, hands tugging at the dress to encircle your waist. Before you could even blink, Nanami’s hovering over you while fidgeting with his belt’s buckle. 

It’s in the heat of a moment like this that you don’t seem to recognize the man you married. You can’t help but form such opinions, asking yourself ridiculous questions without true answers.

Where was the docile boy that existed? Who would only speak when spoken to and stray from any behavior disapproved by his elders? 

Now here he was before you with anticipation heavy on the brain. He isn’t bothered enough to tug at his tie or to unbutton his shirt, opting to slip free from the navy jacket before resting on his haunches. His hands cup the underside of your knees, making it that much easier to press your thighs to your chest.

The pretty swell of your cunt’s lips catches Nanami’s eye, his fingers senselessly drifting against the cloth. He’s so specific to not tear your panties, hooking the soaked inseam to sit along your inner thigh. 

His hand finally slips past his pants to free his cock from the hellish confines, greeting your eye with a dangerous grip. Time was fond of Nanami, ensuring that each second was savored in bliss as he presses the head of his cock to your entrance, the pink crown ripe with the softest of twitches and the thickest of veins just begging for relief.

Elation springs to the forefront of Nanami’s brain, clouding him from the hold of sensibility. His hips almost move for themselves, driving forward in a drunken fury. First, it’s the tip that fills you, barely stretching you for what’s to come. Inch by inch, he’s patiently waiting for the moment where all you know, think, and feel is him.

He loves it truly, watching your eyes widen at the realization, your hands reaching to cover your lips riddled with spit. There’s a certain gasp that takes over your lungs that utterly spoils his ears. Call it a hint of pride, but when that gasp rings from your lips, Nanami can’t help but turn on his ego.

He knows just how deep he was and well he’d fuck that fact out of you, a lesson he swears you seem to forget. But it’s the recoil that drains Nanami for all he’s got, the suffocating clench of your walls pulling such a pretty mewl from his knitted lips. It’s his undoing, pulling from the beckoning thumps of your cervix to press restart on all he’s accomplished for the moment. 

And it’s so unforgiving, the cold etching along his shaft while the head of his cock sits snug with just the slightest peek of pink to meet his eye. His hands search for refuge at the back of your thighs, his nails sinking into the trembling flesh. That same cold is his so-called “excuse” for snapping his hips once more, burying himself in you all over again. 

What follows isn’t simply Nanami rutting himself to absolute filth, of course it isn’t. It’s the insatiable craving pitted at the depths of his tummy, aching for a solution. He’s caught in a blinding lust, unsure of what to chase but knows what the outcome will be. He’s addicted to it, sending his cock so deep inside you, hearing the clashes of skin, down to overseeing you lose all control. 

Sure, there’s a sadistic undertone beneath his amusement but it’s all if nothing but gratitude. He can feel how edged you are, the shivers ripping across your skin, the jolts of your hips when he’s grazing your clit with how close his pelvis was.

He loves watching you lose yourself in it…not to mention in him. Because of that lewd expression of unhinged gratitude is why Nanami can’t help to lean in closer, cutting off the moronic babbles with a kiss. 

Though, just when Nanami thinks he has the upper hand, you always manage the fruit of control right from his hand. The switch in power is so subtle but gradually becomes noticed. By the flutters of your walls, it’s no longer a want to fill you in Nanami’s mind—it’s a need.

That need, or any need really, drives any sane person insane. The urges can no longer be repressed and suddenly it’s itching at their skin, a spot so distant that nothing but the fulfillment of your desires can alieve.

Nanami’s breathing so much harder now to combat his rousing sensations, the head of his cock spry with fizzing nerves. He wants to stop, take a break and cool the rising heat within his body. But when your walls flutter around him again, the quiet and sealed-off mouth of his loses grip and the drivels of pleas fall from his lips all too easily.

But he can’t.

It’s the need that serves a new purpose in Nanami, closing what distance existed to send his cock that much deeper. He’s practically brimming with heat, the veins lining his shaft suffering beneath the exertion of greed. The fat of his cock rests so homely along your walls now that he’s comfortable with letting himself go, his head dropping within the crook of your neck.  He had to make sure every drop would stay, you did have a prayer service to endure, after all.

In his last words, that’s when the hints of dominance seep through. 

“Pretty lil’ pussy’s gonna take everything fr’ me, right?”

Your head unleashes a spool of unhinged nods, serving as enough reason for Nanami. The thick ribbons of white catch onto your womb, drowning you in his scent. It’s so much this time around too, more than the previous Sundays he’d taken to fill you.

The palms of your hands fall over your eyes, using all the latent energy to control the strength of your own orgasm. Your legs trembled from the weight of it alone, triggering tears to crowd at your lash line. Your efforts wouldn’t have been in vain, avoiding all of his hard work to dress his cock in a devastating shade more shameful than white. 

When he manages to catch a breath amidst it all, his eyes dart down to his watch for the time.

8:05 AM.

With mass starting at the sharp time of 8:45, Nanami couldn’t have allowed another minute to pass him by. Not if he wanted his darkest secret displayed for the passing church-goers to see. 

He regretfully drew back from you, tugging your panties back into place. Mentally, he cursed the reality he’d face in a few hours: all of his cum soaked into the cotton. It’d be impossible for you to hold everything, he knew that. Putting his trust in a fading hope, Nanami laid his hand upon you, fingertips drumming a soft rhythm at your lower tummy as he spoke

“Keep it safe for me, Honey. I don’t wanna see a single drop wasted.”

With Nanami’s help, you soon found yourself resting in your usual spot amongst the pews, the first row closest to his reach. Throughout the service, you kept your legs especially tight. You didn’t have to make any eye contact with Nanami to know that his eyes were pinned on you.

He only did ever see you in the crowd, cheering him on with a smile. The pit of his stomach floods with butterflies, fighting a giggle from erupting from his lips.   

After all, with his cum nuzzled oh-so deep inside you, why wouldn’t he?

The holy hour of service concluded just around ten, ending with Nanami and you greeting everyone at the door. The cheerful smiles displayed on your faces are only founded on a facade, the same antics of the morning carrying on. To the people’s eyes, Nanami casually has a hand resting along your lower back, keeping his wife close. 

But you knew what stood behind the act, his fingers slipping warily underneath. He’s playing with the hem of your panties this time, the pads of his digits slinking past the obstruction. He sighs at the results, wet, wet panties.

He brings his lips to your ear, the heat of his breath nipping at the shell. You latch onto his waist, bracing the timid man as his finger finds way to your slit. The explicit words roll off his sullied tongue too fragrantly, leaving you with a fearful reassurance. 

“Aww, I thought it would stay this time. Don’t worry…this time, I’ll keep that pussy extra full next time.”

𐐪𐑂 ♡ ｡ﾟ ━━━ TAGS: @gabzlovesu @nanaminshousewife @rinhoes @indiecursor @kazusugar @po3ticb3auty @dabilovesme @omniuravity @ebiharachan @the-great-himbo @aasouthteranoswife @dejwrites @sweeneyblue1 @yukihime-mikeys-girl @kenmasbimbo @kazubabe @jjjangsta @novaresque @mitsuyasfavorite @10-jiku @whore4mikey @missyasma @getoswhore @pixelsanji @earlesskitten @simpliheavenli @yooniluvbot444 @a3trogirl @chaoticevilbakugo @tojibreedingme @simpingforwakasa04 @tojidilfs @taesd-urag @sintiva @pulchritxde @bloobrryktty @holychocopie @tonaken @ladyackermann @ladyackerman @nekoriots @p-antomime @svlims @zorosbozo @kensgff @dabis0bitch @tirzamisu @simpforerenn @hon3ybee-3 @dukina

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