#kento drabble

[nanamisgirly]

cw breast obsession non-sexual, gentle dominance ig, soft intimacy.

my personal fav fantasy is husband!nanami coming home late. he's super exhausted and he finds you already sleeping.

he sighs in relief at the sight of your peaceful body lying on the bed, the moon light peeking through the curtains, casting a soft glow over you.

you're wearing a delicate crop top, yellow with tiny pink roses on it, thin straps slipping off your shoulders, and lace-trimmed triangles barely covering your breasts— shifted out of place in your sleep. it's Nanami's fav. because he got the chance to cup your tits easily from behind.

it's not in a lustful way!! he's not groping you with some filthy intent not always at least. he holds them in a comforting way, in a way that makes him exhales deeply the moment he slides into bed, feeling the stress of the day melt away as his large, calloused hand finds its rightful place. right over your chest.

it's comforting, the way they fit just right in his palms— they're not too big, not too small, just perfect. like they were meant to be in his hands, like he was meant to touch you this way. he likes the shape of them, the way they mold to his touch, yielding and soft, a stark contrast to the roughness of his palms. he doesn't squeeze hard, doesn't knead them like he's trying to work you up— just holds.

he loves how soft they are when you're relaxed, when you're warm and tucked into his arms, your body completely at ease. how they don't poke or demand attention. they're sitting there all plush and smooth against his fingers, unbothered.

he loves how your breasts change when you're lying down, how they spread just a little, how they lose that roundness but become so soft, so flat, almost like they're becoming one with his hands. he loves the way his fingers can rest along the curve of your ribs, feeling the gently rise and fall of your breath beneath them.

it's instinctual. reaching for you. holding you. owning you.

his favorite way to touch you is when you're on your back, his face buried in the crook of your neck—your floral scent invading his nostrils—'cause that's where he has better access to your tits. he likes to slide his hand up from your waist, fingers ghosting over your ribs before they settle beneath the swell of your breast— his thumb and index supporting the weight ever so slightly, pressing just enough to feel their fullness. and sometimes most of the times he gives the underside a gentle pinch, his lips twitching at the way your body shifts in response, even in your sleep.

and your nipples. god he loves them sooo much. he's totally obsessed when they don't poke or stiffen under his fingers, just stay warm and smooth against his touch, like they trust him enough to relax. he traces lazy circles over them, fingertips gliding over the subtle change in texture. he never presses, never pinches because he knows if he did, if he rolled them just right, they'd start to react. they'd tighten, harden under his touch, and sure—when the mood was for it—he loved that just as much.

but right now, it was only about feeling you.

and if you make some little sound of protest when he adjusts his grip— he simply shushes you, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, whispering, "go back to sleep, darling." and you do. because how could you not when you were so sweetly wrapped in his warmth?

(*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)

[cuntyji]

the first video nanami ever posted was filmed on a shaky phone propped up against a bag of flour.

he was making bread—simple, easy, the kind of thing he found comfort in after long days at work. his hands moved methodically, kneading the dough with a quiet precision, and though he spoke very little, the video was oddly calming.

he hadn't expected much from it. maybe a few views, maybe a couple of people who’d appreciate the lack of unnecessary chatter. but the comments were overwhelmingly positive, people asking about his technique, his recipe, his voice—deep, smooth, effortlessly steady. so he made another video. then another.

it was the late-night upload of him singing "baby one more time" by the marías that changed everything.

filmed on an old macbook with a grainy webcam, the lighting barely enough to make out his face, the video had been an impulse decision—one he almost deleted. it was just him, sitting on his couch, his voice low and hushed, the way he usually sang to lull yuuji to sleep. but the internet clung to it like ivy, twisting and reaching until the video had over a million views by the end of the week.

"who is he." "why is this the most intimate thing i've ever heard in my life." "he looks exhausted and sounds like a dream, i'm in love."

he thought it would pass. but it didn't.

his subscribers doubled overnight. the demand for more was loud, insistent. nanami, being nanami, didn’t rush to meet it. instead, he structured it into his routine: one video a week, a mix of baking and singing—because baking was reliable, and singing had never been something he shared outside of yuuji’s bedtime.

his channel evolved. the baking videos became polished, edited with subtle precision. he switched to voiceovers, explaining each step in that same low, deliberate tone that made people feel like he was speaking just to them. and when he sang, it was always songs that carried a quiet sort of nostalgia.

"he only sings songs he sings to his kid to sleep i’m crying." "his lullabies are better than half the music industry." "i don’t know his name, his age, or his face properly, but i know his banana bread recipe by heart."

nanami never explicitly talked about being a single dad, but it was impossible to miss. yuuji’s voice sometimes made cameos in the background, muffled questions about homework, laughter when nanami burnt the edges of a cake. he didn’t hide it, didn’t play it up. it was just a part of his life, and his audience adored him for it.

his faq video—one of the few times he ever directly addressed personal questions—answered almost nothing.

"are you married?" "no." "how old are you?" "old enough." "what's your name?" "nanami."

the mystery only made people more obsessed.

"i know nothing about him but i’d die for him." "his hands. his voice. his existence." "the fact that he bakes and sings for his kid and still won’t tell us his age is crazy."

he now posted twice a week. one video was always baking, the other was whatever he wanted—sometimes music, sometimes a quiet q&a, sometimes just a video of him making tea while rain hit the windows.

people knew everything and nothing about him at the same time. they knew the exact ratio of brown sugar he preferred in cookies but not what city he lived in. they knew he tucked yuuji in every night with a song but had never seen his full face in a single frame. they knew the precise cadence of his voice when he said “and that’s how you make the perfect loaf” but had never heard him say “i love you”—and yet, somehow, they felt like they had.

the internet had fallen in love with him. and nanami, quietly, without even trying, had changed his life with nothing but flour-dusted hands and the sound of his own voice.

[ofourlee]

panic growing in his chest, nanami looked at the clock. he murmured to himself, "i'm going to be late," and picked up his briefcase.

you fold your arms. "aren't you forgetting something?"

nanami’s expression changes to one of confusion as he raises an eyebrow.

he searches his memory to see whether he has forgotten anything important.

then he realizes something. he approaches you with a knowing smile on his face.

he leans in and plants a slow, intense kiss on your lips without waiting another second.

his lips sweep over yours with a possessive, but gentle, dominance.

his hands glide down to your hips, clutching hard as he intensifies the kiss, his tongue pushing beyond your lips to tangle with yours.

as though he's attempting to commit the taste, the sensation, and the very soul of you to memory, he kisses you as if it were the last time.

nanami starts to back away, but you grabbed his tie and pulled him back toward you with a playful twinkle in your eyes before he could move.

“you're not leaving yet." you said.

your lips met his once again, relentlessly and urgently. as he kissed you back, his hands paused and then moved to your waist, the warmth of your breath sending a shiver down his spine.

“seriously, honey," he whispered between kisses, his mind screaming that he was already running out of time. "i really have to go."

you weren't listening, though. you made it hard for him to break away as you intensified the kiss and slid your fingers up to his shirt collar, pushing it open.

his warm breath ghosts over your skin as he briefly breaks the kiss and then trails his lips down to your neck.

he attempts to collect his disorganized thoughts and recall the reason for leaving.

he sighs, "darling, I—I really have to go," in a strained voice. "this is just making it worse. i'm gonna be so late."

you smiled, finally releasing his tie, your fingers lingering on his chest. "i’ll be here when you get back," she whispered, her voice full of promise.

he nodded, gave her a final, lingering kiss and withdrew.

her laughter followed him as he eventually left the room. (yes, her lipstick stains are smudged all around his lips. but he doesnt have to know that)

he leaves smiling and with a day that would be difficult to concentrate on.

[aquasoftware]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐘 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 ˳ᐟ

FT | Waitress!Reader ✘ Kento N.

Desc | Kento Nanami prospers in routine—until it starts to feel like a cage. One night out with the help of Satoru turns into a quiet obsession when he meets a pretty waitress that becomes his new exciting adventure.

CW | Fluff, simp!Nanami, wingman!Satoru, love at first sight trope, slight cultural inaccuracy (tipping isn’t a thing in Japan, but roll with it <33)

WC | 1.2K ➜ ML

A/N : This is heavily based on Alicia Key’s song

All Kento knew was his morning coffee with extra vanilla creamer, work, and the occasional stop at the local bakery.

In the late evenings, he’d settle into his cozy home—Laufey crackling on the record player while reading yet another romance novel, his typical routine, which repeated on loop all 365 days of the year.

However, that day-to-day predictability started to bore even someone like Kento—who thrived on the easiness of structure and quietly judged those without it.

Nowadays it felt as suffocating as a tie too tight around his neck.

Lately he’d stare at a paragraph for minutes on the page—realizing that none of the words had stuck in his brain. Often daydreaming about new exciting adventures while the world around him faded to white noise.

And could anything feel more adventurous than Satoru—of all friends he had—inviting him out to a retro diner?

Nope! that’s exactly why he came here with him, at least after some arm-twisting (and the promise of mouth watering garlic bread appetizers), he’d given in.

But the moment he saw you in a pastel-blue mini dress with a crisp white apron and black-and-white roller skates, strolling to table seven, all thoughts of garlic bread, and music humming from the jukebox vanished.

He studied you like a masterpiece come alive—every careful step, each tilt of your wrist as you balanced the menus with ballerina-like grace.

“Hiii!! I’m Y/n—your server for today. Welcome to Aqua’s Diner. How may I take your order?” A bright smile flourished on your lips, almost as flashy as your dangly earrings.

He felt the weight of your dreamy eye contact roaming towards only him as if poor Satoru was a ghost, maybe that was just one of his many daydreams though.

Breaking out of his thoughts, his hands rested on his slacks as you slid the menus across the table, before brushing your hair away from your face using your manicured nails. Then clicking your fancy red pen, you pulled out your notepad ready for orders.

He cleared his throat like it’d help the upcoming voice crack. “I would like…um…uh…”

His gaze darted between you and Satoru, heart thudding like a bass drum beneath his prussian-blue button-up.

“What would you recommend? I’ve never been here, so this is a new experience for me.” Kento asked, gulping as he fixed his collar with his sweaty fingertips.

“Ahh, first timer?” You mused, tapping the pen onto your chin. “Try The Hungry Shark—linguine Alfredo topped with parmesan, fresh basil and crab. It comes with garlic bread on the side.”

Kento gave a small grin “The name seems very misleading..” He half-joked, a soft chuckle escaping after “But I trust your call—I'll have that, please.”

You nodded, took Satoru’s order, and rolled away on your skates.

Satoru leaned in like a detective busting a case, eyebrows wiggling as he spread both hands on the table. “Oooohhhh—‘I trust your call,’ huh? What’s that about?”

“Satoru, calm down—it’s nothing like that,” Kento protested, as heat crept up his neck, blooming into a dusty rose atop his cheeks. He already regretted letting Satoru drag him out tonight.

The truth was unavoidable though, a lie detector would catch him, betraying him on the first question. He’d never been so flustered—or so alive—around anyone else.

Especially the constant stream of sending Satoru’s phone texts desperately asking to come back–seeing the waitress on Lennox street. Over and over, it became Kento’s new routine—and consumed his every thought.

Satoru’s phone would buzz continuously:

“Can we go back please? I need to see her again.”

“Lennox Street, right? Meet me there.”

He squared his shoulders, trying to sound firm, but his fingers shook the entire time. Every memory of the first day he saw you made his heart race at the thought of seeing your face again.

That Thursday evening it would mark their tenth time there, the neon sign of Aqua’s Diner glowed against the gathering dusk as the bell above the door jingled each time new customers sauntered in.

They sat by their usual window booth, the late-daylight softening the diner's edges, but Satoru noticed something.

Kento usually hated small talk—yet with you, he found excuses.

Every time you glided by their table—your skates singing smoothly on the linoleum—he’d throw his friend a pointed look and gear into, “Hey, have you heard Laufey’s Everything I Know About Love album?”

Or “Do you think the protagonist in my book made the right choice?” he’d ask Satoru, hoping you’d swoop into the conversation like a creative fairy godmother.

When your eyes lit up and you launched into your take, it felt like he’d scored the winning goal—and his crush shot straight to the clouds.

Satoru watched you both as you paused mid-discussion to refill his water glass, hair catching the overhead light and gleaming like spun silk.

Tonight, you’d tucked a few loose strands into a delicate colorful clip, and a thin chain of freshwater pearls peeked above your apron pocket—subtle touches, but enough to widen his grin in amused approval.

He shifted in his seat and caught Kento’s eye. He looked impossibly tense, sleeves rolled up to mid-forearm, as if he were daring you to notice how the soft lamplight traced every muscle.

He’d left an embarrassingly large tip on the table last time—another unspoken hint—and Kento was even wearing his glasses tonight, almost as if he’d rehearsed looking smarter just to impress you.

“That’s it,” Satoru muttered under his breath, though his tone was all warmth. He pushed back from the table. “I can’t take it anymore.”

You paused mid-pour, eyebrows lifted. “Satoru?”

He held up a hand in apology for what he was about to spill, then turned to Kento.

“Dude, you’ve been mooning over her every night—you roll your sleeves up, you flash her that bored-but-not-really look, you tip like you’re bribing her to personally solve Japan’s declining birth rate, and you barely even remember her name, enough! I’m going to say it.”

Kento’s jaw clenched, but there was no stopping Satoru now. He stood and cleared his throat—loud enough to make both of you look up.

“Maybe… I barely remember her name because I’m too busy admiring her,” he fired back, side eyeing him.

You slightly rolled forward, curiosity pouring in your eyes.

“See, exactly my point! my friend here—Kento—thinks you’re absolutely stunning.”

Your cheeks warmed as you turned to Kento, whose mouth had gone suddenly dry. You caught him fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve, then offering you a shy, crooked smile.

“Well,” you said, dipping your head with a playfully fiddling with your pearls, “I think your friend is pretty handsome, too.”

Before he could answer, you pressed the bill toward him—and the back of it read, in careful red-ink:

“If you’d like to see me outside my apron, call me.”

Satoru settled back with a triumphant nod and held up his hand for a high-five—only for Kento to stare so long at the paper that he completely missed it. His pupils widened, goosebumps rippling up his arms, and his heart thundered in his chest, fireworks exploding behind his ribs.

“I appreciate the offer,” he murmured, as if he were signing a contract.

“Kento, you’re so awkward. Oh my god,” Satoru shook his head in disbelief.

“And where’s my thank you? I’m practically a spring cupid.”

Hesitantly he whispered “Thank you.”

“Also I need a dessert to-go for this and all”

“Now you’re pushing it, Satoru.”

You just giggled at their little back-and-forth, then slid away to tend other tables.

Kento clumsily tucked the paper into his pocket, and tried to straighten his shirt—hard to focus on anything else, but thoughts of a wedding with you already rose in his head and you two weren’t even dating yet.

Dividers/Boarders produced by | strangergraphics + kodaswrld.

Song written by Koi’lani/@aquasoftware. ©

REBLOGS, COMMENTS, AND LIKES ARE HEAVILY APPRECIATED!! THANK YOU <3 | ML

[sinkuna]

୨୧ ― The garage door slams shut with a muffled thud, sealing you both in the dark garage. The car is still warm from the drive home, engine ticking as the leather seats creak under Nanami’s weight. His tie hangs loose around his neck, silk fabric slithering between his fingers as he cages you against the backseat- his knee forcing your legs apart. 

"Seven days…," he grits out, the numbers sharp as his cursed blade… It was rare to hear him talk like that…

"Kento… please don't be mad… w-we ah~," impatient, his large hands shove your dress up your thighs, bunching the fabric around your waist, "We've been so busy with the girls lately." your hands tremble as you run them over the lapels of his jacket.

He catches your wrist and pulls your hand to his mouth. A shiver races up your spine as he kisses your palm, tongue hot and wet as it traces along your skin. His teeth are just as sharp, grazing against your skin in a warning, "I don't want excuses," Nanami growls, the low sound going straight to your cunt, "I want you."

His breath carries hints of bourbon and mint from dinner- restraint absolutely snapped, the kind that’s been simmering all week between packed lunched, overtime with Gojo, and your second grader’s nightmares about how daddy doesn’t come back home from work one day… 

Nanami refuses to waste any more time. Like he said, it’s been seven fucking days. He’s missed having you all to himself. The feeling of your velvety walls wrapped around him- strangling his cock just how he likes it. 

Without hesitation. His thumb hooks into your lace panties, tearing them sideways with a rip that makes you gasp and arch, "F-fuck, Kento-!~"

"Quiet," he growls against your neck, calloused palm smacking your clit once, twice, the crack echoing off the tinted windows, "You've been begging for this all night." The sound of his pants zipper fills the small space, his cock springing free- heavy and angry red with a bead of precum drooling at the tip. "Squirming in your seat. Smirking at me as your heel grazes my thigh."

He doesn't prep you- doesn't need to. Your pussy has been dripping since the appetizers, and he knows, the bastard, smirking as he swipes his tip against your entrance, "Look at you," he taunts, dragging his cock through your slick, coating himself, "So wet for me already. You missed my cock so much, hm?"

Fuck, yesyesyes you missed his cock, missed the stretch and burn and ache when he first plunges into you. A breathless, "Yes~♡ " falls from your lips, followed by a desperate moan as his fat cock rams into your soaked cunt without warning- filling you, stretching you out.

You do your best to choke back a scream. You know better, know to keep your voice down in case your girls and Yuji have fallen asleep- the last thing you need is to wake them. But Nanami is merciless, fucking you open, the squelch of your juices loud enough to drown out any other noise in the confined space, his hips snap up- slamming into you as he fucks you against the leather seats.

"I—fu—I've s'missed you, Kento~"

Nanami's eyes soften then, a small smile forming as his hand cradles your face. The pad of his thumb traces the outline of your lip before pushing in, his gaze darkening at the way your lips part for him so willingly.

His grip on your jaw turns bruising, the way his lips smash against yours- it's painful, but the sting is delicious, "You kept teasing me about wanting another kid," he grunts, sweat dripping off his jaw onto your heaving chest.

His wedding band catches the moonlight streaming through the garage window as he grips your throat, not hard enough to hurt- yet.

"Maybe I will put a third in you tonight. Watch you swell up again…" His voice drops, gravelly and low, "You'd look so beautiful like that, again."

You claw at the part of his chest that's exposed, the fabric wrinkled beyond salvation, and moan, "Y'already... nnf... can't handle two—hah!~"

He slams deeper- hand fisting in your hair cutting you off-  "Try me."

His Mercedes rattles as he flips you onto your knees, face mashed against the fogged window. His palm cracks against your ass, reddening the skin before he yanks your hips back, spearing you in one vicious stroke. Your tits crush against the seat, nipples rubbed raw by the upholstery as he drills into your g-spot.

Somewhere upstairs, he hears a floorboard squeak… The sound traveling easily through the thin wall that connects the garage to the house. Nanami freezes, cock twitching inside you. 

Then, unmistakable in the sudden silence, comes the patter of small feet and excited voices from within the house.

"Daddy and Mommy are home!"

"Shh! Remember what big bro Yuji said? We should be sleeping!"

Nanami’s eyes narrow, "S-shit." He rams home once more, burying his groan in the crook of your neck as he spills, hot and thick, painting your walls white as it floods your womb. His cum leaks down your trembling thighs as he collapses against you, his forehead dropping to your shoulder blade with a defeated thud while muttering, "...they're awake-"

So much for having you to himself the rest of the night…

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Nine months later, Nanami Kento is changing diapers at 3 am, dark circles under his eyes but with a tender smile that lights up the pink nursery.

"Worth it."

⋆｡˚꒰ঌ 𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ໒꒱˚｡⋆

[reissancesstuff]

“WHO are you?”

sypnosis: you're too drunk to recognize your boyfriend.

warnings: alcohol (reader is drunk), swearing.

featuring: gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, sukuna ryomen.

Gojo

You are absolutely, unapologetically, undeniably wasted.

You don’t even remember how many drinks you’ve had. All you know is that the room is spinning, your heels are in your hand, and you’re sitting outside the club on the curb with a pout that could kill a man.

“Satoru,” you mumble, squinting at your phone. “Why hasn’t he called me back? That bastard.”

You’re just about to text him for the eighth time (your phone is upside down, for the record) when a familiar voice cuts through the haze.

“There you are,” the voice says, amused. “You’re lucky I’m sexy and patient.”

You blink up, shielding your eyes from the moonlight—or maybe it’s the streetlight, or maybe it's the glowing aura of the man standing in front of you.

He’s tall. White-haired. Wearing a black coat and sunglasses, at night, like a menace.

You frown.

“Who,” you say seriously, “the fuck are you?”

He freezes.

You narrow your eyes further, wobbling to your feet and poking his chest.

“Back off, handsome stranger,” you declare. “I already have a boyfriend.”

He sputters. “Handsome? Wait—”

“He’s the love of my life,” you say proudly. “Six feet of nonsense. White hair. Smug face. He’s so annoying. But like, in a hot way.”

“…That’s literally just me,” he deadpans.

“Nooo,” you slur. “Satoru’s prettier.”

His jaw drops. “Excuse me?! I AM SATORU!”

You gasp. Loudly.

“Oh my god. You’re one of those crazy fans.”

“What???”

You stumble back, dramatically offended. “You wanna be him, don’t you? Is that why you dyed your hair? Is this cosplay?!”

Gojo stares at you, dumbfounded.

You wave your heel in the air like a sword. “Back off! I’m loyal!”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply. “Sweetheart—”

You cut him off, whispering, “Don’t call me that. Only Satoru calls me sweetheart.”

“…I am Satoru!”

A pause. Then, suddenly, you gasp again—like your brain has rebooted.

“Wait… You sound like him,” you say slowly, brows furrowing. “Say something only Satoru would say.”

He leans in, lips grazing your ear.

“I know how you like it when I kiss that one spot on your thigh.”

You shriek, smacking his chest. “Okay you’re him!!”

He laughs—loud, stupid, proud.

“I hate you,” you mumble into his coat as he wraps his arms around you, lifting you off the ground like you weigh nothing.

“You said I was hot,” he hums smugly. “I’m never letting that go.”

“You’re annoying,” you grumble, snuggling into him anyway. “Still prettier in my head.”

He kisses your forehead. “Good thing I’m also prettier in real life.”

---

By the time he gets you home, you’ve fallen asleep in his arms.

You wake up the next morning with a hangover, a glass of water on your nightstand, and a sticky note on your forehead.

"Handsome Stranger says hi. —Your boyfriend 💙"

You groan, burying your face in the pillow.

God, he’s never gonna let this go.

But honestly?

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━

Geto

You’re drunk.

Like, embarrassingly drunk.

Like, sitting outside the izakaya barefoot with your shoes in your lap and a half-eaten skewer in your hand, slurring into your phone like it’s your long-lost best friend.

“Where the hell is Suguru?” you mumble. “I’m cold. And also beautiful. I deserve a ride.”

A shadow falls over you.

You look up—slowly, dramatically—and see a tall, broad figure standing above you, dark hair in a low bun, wearing all black like he’s auditioning to be a villain in a slow-burn romance anime.

“Get up,” he says. Calm. Deep. Familiar.

You squint. “Oh my god.”

He raises a brow. “Yes?”

“You’re hot,” you whisper.

He sighs. “Baby, it’s me.”

“No,” you say, pointing a threatening skewer at him. “My boyfriend is nicer. He’s sweet. And warm. And smells like sandalwood and chaos. You look like a mafia boss. You probably steal hearts and credit cards.”

Suguru stares at you like he’s questioning all his life choices.

You stand up—well, try to—and nearly fall into him. His arms catch you effortlessly, like it’s muscle memory.

You shove a finger in his chest. “I’m taken. My boyfriend will kill you.”

“Will he?” he asks, humoring you. “Violent type?”

“The worst,” you say proudly. “He once glared at a guy so hard his hairline receded.”

“Sounds terrifying.”

“He is,” you nod seriously. “And he calls me ‘sweetheart’ when he wants something.”

Suguru exhales a laugh, something low and fond. “Okay. What if I prove I’m him?”

You blink at him, considering. “…Fine. Do it.”

He steps close, close enough that his chest brushes yours.

“Two weeks ago, you said if I didn’t let you adopt a cat, you’d put glitter in my shampoo.”

Your jaw drops. “How did you—?!”

“Three days ago, you cried because a dog in a TikTok wore boots.”

“And last night,” he leans in, brushing his lips by your ear, “you told me I’m your favorite ‘tall dark and dangerous’ man, but you’d leave me instantly for Keanu Reeves.”

You gasp. “Suguru?!”

“Yes.”

“OH MY GOD.” You slap his arm. “Why didn’t you say so earlier!?”

“I did.”

You cling to him, dramatic as ever. “I missed you. You smell good. Don’t ever leave me again.”

He lifts you effortlessly, carrying you bridal style toward the car, shaking his head with the softest smile.

“You’re gonna regret all of this in the morning,” he murmurs, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I regret nothing,” you slur. Then squint up at him. “Wait. Did you really glare a guy’s hairline off?”

“…That one might’ve been a little exaggerated.”

“Still hot.”

---

The next morning, you wake up in Suguru’s hoodie, with water, painkillers, and a sticky note on your phone:

“Mafia Boss says thank you for your compliments. You’re under permanent protection now. —Your real boyfriend 💌”

You bury your face in the pillow.

He’s never letting this go.

And honestly? You’re kind of glad.

━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━

Nanami

You’re sitting on a curb, absolutely wasted.

There’s glitter on your eyelids, chicken nuggets in your purse, and a girl from the bar sobbing beside you because her ex posted a gym selfie.

You offer her a nugget.

“You deserve better,” you tell her. “You’re gorgeous. Your eyebrows are, like, symmetrical. I’d marry you.”

She sniffles, then stares behind you. “Uhh… is that your boyfriend?”

You turn.

And see a tall, broad man walking up, sleeves rolled, tie loose, face unreadable—like God sent a male model from a finance firm to collect wayward souls off the street.

You frown.

“You look expensive,” you say slowly. “Are you one of those… high-end butlers?”

He stops in front of you. “You’re drunk.”

You blink. “How do you know?”

“Because I’m your boyfriend.”

Your jaw drops. “No you’re not. My boyfriend is… emotionally repressed. Wears beige. Has a sexy office job and a judgmental stare.”

Nanami sighs. “That’s me.”

You squint suspiciously. “Okay, if you’re really my boyfriend… what’s my weirdest habit?”

He looks down at you, voice flat. “You talk to plants. You name them. One is called Baby Groot. You cried when he lost a leaf.”

Your lips part. “Only he would know that…”

You wobble to your feet and nearly fall, catching yourself on his very firm chest. You clutch his shirt.

“Oh my god,” you whisper. “You are my sexy office man.”

“Let’s go home,” he mutters, guiding you gently toward his car.

You dig your heels into the ground. “Wait! Waitwaitwait—don’t kidnap me! I have a boyfriend!”

“You just admitted I am your boyfriend.”

“…Oh. Right.” You giggle. “Lucky me.”

He helps you into the passenger seat like you’re fragile cargo. Once seated, you stare at him as he buckles you in.

“You’re so handsome,” you murmur.

“I know.”

“And patient.”

“I have no choice.”

“You’re gonna marry me one day.”

His hands still for half a second.

Then: “I already plan to.”

You pass out smiling.

---

The next morning, you wake up in bed, dressed in your comfiest pajamas, with a glass of water, aspirin, and a note:

"In case you forget: yes, I am your boyfriend. No, I am not a butler. Please hydrate. —Kento"

You giggle into the pillow.

You’re definitely going to marry that man.

━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━

Toji

You are sitting on a barstool, double fisting two very illegally strong cocktails, laughing at absolutely nothing.

You're also very certain that a hot man is trying to kidnap you.

“Ma’am,” the man says, standing in front of you like an irritated wall of muscle. “It’s me.”

You look him up and down.

Black hair. Green eyes. Tall. Scary aura. Tight shirt. Very very hot.

But no. You're loyal.

You squint. “You’re not my boyfriend.”

The man pinches the bridge of his nose. “I picked you up from karaoke an hour ago.”

“Impossible,” you say dramatically. “My boyfriend would never show up to karaoke. He thinks fun is ‘a scam made by broke people.’”

“That’s exactly what I said,” he grunts.

You gasp. “You are hot though. Like, really hot. But listen—my boyfriend? He’s kinda mean, super strong, and terrifying. He could totally kill you.”

He stares.

You continue: “He’s also soooo good in bed. Real monster. Demon behavior. But he’s mine, so—”

Toji grabs your wrist. “Get your ass up.”

You gasp again. “You’re aggressive. Just like him. But he’d never touch me like that in public unless I pissed him off.”

“Oh?” he says, voice flat. “You mean like getting blackout drunk, threatening the DJ, and petting strangers' dogs without asking?”

You tilt your head. “So you do know me...”

“I live with you.”

You lean forward, squinting hard, then grab his face between your hands. “Say something only my boyfriend would say.”

He deadpans, “If you puke in my car again, I’m charging you five grand.”

Your mouth drops open. “Toji?!”

“Finally.”

You throw your arms around his neck. “Where have you been all night?!”

“Chasing your drunk ass down. Again.”

He tosses you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and starts walking to his car.

“Wait,” you slur. “You’re not gonna murder me, right?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“But I’m your babygirl…”

He opens the car door. “You’re my goddamn headache.”

“Love you too!”

---

The next morning, you wake up with a hangover and a bruise on your hip that looks suspiciously like the edge of Toji’s shoulder.

You check your phone.

1 New Message from Toji

📸 [photo of you passed out face-first in his passenger seat, drooling]

Toji: Don’t drink again unless I’m there. Dumbass.

You smile.

Your murderous, scary, mean boyfriend is the best.

━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━

Sukuna

You’re absolutely, irreparably hammered.

How do you know?

Because there is a gorgeous man standing in front of you with piercings, tattoos, and arms you’d like to sit on — and instead of flirting with him, you’re loudly sobbing to your friend.

“He’s gonna kill him. He’s gonna kill the hot guy,” you sniff.

“Who?”

“That guy,” you point at the very man you’re talking about. “He’s hot but he’s not my boyfriend. But he’s gonna die. My boyfriend is crazy.”

The man in question — the hot one — drags a hand down his face. “You’re drunk off your ass.”

You nod solemnly. “Yes. And you should leave before he finds you.”

“I am your boyfriend.”

You blink. “Noooo, my boyfriend has tattoos—”

He lifts his shirt.

“—oh my god you have tattoos,” you whisper.

“And piercings.”

You stare at the twin bars through his eyebrow and the silver glint on his tongue as he smirks.

“My boyfriend has those too!” you giggle. “But also, he’s terrifying. He’d murder you in an alley for touching me.”

He steps closer. “You mean like this?”

He wraps an arm around your waist, pulls you flush against him.

You freeze. “Bold of you, hot stranger.”

He leans in, voice low and dark in your ear. “You bit me last time I tried to wake you up from a drunk nap.”

You gasp. “Sukuna?!”

“Yeah, baby. It’s me.” He presses a kiss to your jaw, sharp canines grazing your skin. “Now let’s get you in the damn car before I dump you in a gutter.”

You wrap your arms around him, eyes wide. “You’re so mean. I love you.”

“I know you do, dumbass.”

---

The next morning, you wake up to an ice pack on your head and a water bottle on your nightstand. Sukuna is sitting at the edge of the bed, scrolling his phone.

“…Did I threaten you again last night?” you mumble.

“You told me you’d report me to the FBI if I didn’t prove I was your boyfriend.”

“Oh god.”

“You also called me ‘Mr. Jail Tattoos’ and asked if I knew I was hot.”

“I hate myself.”

He glances at you with that lazy smirk. “You said, and I quote, ‘I wanna kiss you but my boyfriend’s gonna beat your ass.’”

You pull a pillow over your face. “Did you beat your own ass?”

“Nah.” He shrugs. “But I did let you tackle me onto the bed. You drooled on my neck.”

“…Love you?”

He flicks your forehead. “Be less dumb next time.”

You grin. “That’s rich coming from you, Mr. Jail Tattoos.”

And he does, in fact, tackle you right back.

[freaktoru]

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . nanami kento doesn’t argue… except this time he does. and he fucks you while he does it.

18+ MDNI, nanami is kind of a meanie :(

nanami kento is a man of undeniable patience and unwavering calm. a think-first, speak-later kind of man—never quick to argue, and always one to listen attentively before offering his own thoughts.

but when you “accidentally” forget to tell him that you’re going out with your friends after work, and spend hours worrying him sick and not answering your phone? now that really pisses him off.

clearly, you had forgotten to follow one of the most important, fundamental rules the two of you had set for each other—always let the other know of your whereabouts. 

seems like nanami had to remind you somehow. and today, his method of choice was fucking it into you. 

“you just can’t” thrust. “do” thrust. “what” thrust. “i tell you” thrust. “huh?” he drives each word into you, his thick cock hitting that sweet spot deep inside—making sure you feel exactly how much he means it.

your face is buried in the sheets of your shared bed, tears staining the pristine white bedsheets. nanami has been at this for hours now, pounding into you—every thrust harder and more punishing than the last.

“ ‘m sorry k-kento please” you sob pathetically into the wet sheets, voice barely audible in your helpless position. a strong hand fists a handful of your hair, pulling your head up closer to his. 

kento leans over, his warm, ragged breath brushing the tip of your ear, staying buried deep in your quivering, tight walls. 

“what was that?” he whispers, keeping a strong—almost painful grip on your hair. 

“i’m s-sorryyy kento i forgot” 

“mmm sweetheart” he murmurs, his voice a low, husky, whisper “that just won’t do.” he finishes, deliberately moving his other hand from your waist up to your sensitive, hardened nipples. you let out a mewl of pleasure as he rolls one between his fingers—the sound quickly turning into a breathy whine when he pinches down.

“please” you barely choke out the plea between sharp sobs. 

“please what? use your words baby” he mutters, hands now kneading the soft flesh of your tits.

“i’m s-sorry” is the only thing you can manage to say—pathetic and ruined in your fucked out state.

kento frees you from his grasp, letting your head fall back down into the mattress. his bruising grip on your waist returns, and he slowly starts moving his hips again. 

“i don’t think you are” is all he says, before quickening his already harsh pace. kento fucks you like this—like he’s trying to make you understand—for the rest of the night.

and you do understand. you understand that you’ll never make nanami mad again.

[xplicitviewz]

“Who’s calling?” Your husband, Nanami, huffs from above you, his hips snapping into you. Your teary eyes glance at your phone while you let out small whimpers. “I-it’s our son.” You breathe out, your thighs tremble beneath his hands holding them down beside you.

Nanami groans and stuffs his dick fully into you, a whine escaping your lips as he picks up the phone. Between his work schedule and your 4 kids, there isn’t time for you and your husband to partake in a your shared activities other than the few times you guys got creative.

There was this one time you guys had your oldest watch the kids while you guys went to the pharmacy to pick up some medicine, which ended in a quickie in the dark parking lot before heading home.

Or the other time you guys had a pool day and you went inside to start getting the snacks ready. Nanami followed shortly after to have himself his own quick snack. Both of your days are pretty busy, but Nanami never fails to make some time for you and your pussy. You can admit sex hasn’t really been a priority, until tonight. Upon realizing all the kids would be gone, you immediately called Nanami to be sure he brings his ass home when he is off and not do any overtime- yes you used your mom voice too. Nanami agreed not wanting to be scolded.

When he did get home, he noticed a few things, there was any tv on, or music blasting from your two oldest rooms. There weren’t toys scattered in the living room or the dining room table from your two youngest, no yelling or screaming from all of them in general, it was just quiet. He smelt food in the air, he usually does every night he comes home but it’d be already eaten, or everyone will be eating at the dinner table (he insists not to wait for him because he often stays late) but since he left early from work, it isn’t ready just yet. He quickly rushes up the stairs, starting to feel the panic seep in just a bit, all the kids rooms are empty.

He opens his shared bedroom to see you just laying on your stomach, in the silky robe he got you, reading a book. He calms down because if you were okay, surely, the kids were too. His eyes gaze down your figure, your feet are in the air crossed, while you read. The robe sits at your upper thigh, and since it’s so thin, your ass pops out in the most desirable way possible. “Honey?” He eyes you suspiciously, taking a breath as he starts to settle down, “Where are the kids.”

You heard the front door shut, squeezing your thighs together, feeling the arousal hit you even more. The book you have been reading had been in your mind, and hearing your husband come home really made you ready to take him, full. You had dinner cooking in the oven, almost ready to serve for just Nanami and you. Your oldest son is at a movie with his friends and they are going to go eat after. Your second oldest daughter is spending the night with her best friend, and your two youngest are sleeping over with their grandparents. To say you were practically rushing your oldest son to leave already, since he was the last one to go, was an understatement.

“They are busy and safe.” You closed the book and turn your body towards him, your eyes hungry before you looked at him, but damn near starving when you did. That damn suit and tie. You explained where they all were as you sat up in the bed, impulsively pushing your chest out as you leaned back on your arms. Nanami didn’t ignore the lustful look in your eye, the way your nipples perked against the thin fabric, only assuming you had nothing on underneath. He quickly put a few things together, why you called him to not do overtime. He knew what his wife wanted, at least he thought so.

When your sweet loving husband started off kissing your neck, waiting to use the few hours to just worship your body, you, your hands cupped his chin and looked him dead in the eye, “Honey, I love you so much and I know that you do but tonight-right now I need you to fuck me like you don’t. I want y-“ His eyes darkens more at your plea, how desperate you were truly. How can he ever say no to his gorgeous wife. He cuts you off with a kiss before he started fucking you every way loose. Yes exactly what I said. But of course no matter what time it is, you guys are parents after all….

“What?” Nanami answers the call, still buried deep inside you, grinding against you as his thumb circles your clit.

“..Oh Hey dad, where’s mo-“

“She’s busy, are you okay, why are you blowing up her phone?” Nanami cuts your son off, his eyes focused on you squirming around, biting your lip to keep any lewd sounds hushed while he was on the phone with your son. He speeds up his movements on your clit, softly sucking in a breath when you clench tightly around his dick.

“I wanna buy some snacks and get some food after the movie, mom said she’ll send me m-“

“How much?” Nanami asked wanting him to get to the point so he can get back to his wife. He slowly pulling out before pushing himself back in. Your hand quickly covers your mouth as you shut your eyes. Your legs were shaking crazy. Your husband wasn’t one to always be rough in bed, but the times he is, you would feel it for days, in the best way possible. (He has that dog in him😞) Nanami definitely isn’t holding back, not when it’s been this long you guys were kid free for a few hours and together at that. Nanami was making up for lost time, fingering you until you couldn’t talk properly, eating your pussy like it personally offended him, fucking you left, right, up, down, diagonal, all up until your phone kept blowing up.

“Like about $40.”

“Okay, give me a moment.” Nanami grunts, as he bottoms out again, the way you squeezed his dick nearly knocked him out cold. He feels his dick throb inside you and pulls the phone away from his ear, breathing heavy.

“Thanks d-“

Nanami hangs up the phone and tosses it beside you before leaning in closer to you, peeling your hand away from your mouth and pulling it above your head. “Tell me something honey.” He hums kissing your swollen lips.

You whimper as he fucks you again, slow but rough this time, ”y-yes?” You gasp as he hits your cervix.

“When the kids ask for money, do you send it to them from my account?” He looks into your eyes, sweat dripping down his head watching your reaction to his question really his dick.

You’re screwed. Both literally and physically.

“Not alwa- o-ooh shit.” You moan, his hips moving faster than light. Nanami absolutely hates when you use your own money, hell, even when you were working. When you guys first started dating he already knew you were going to be his wife. Nanami would always say you didn’t need to work but you didn’t want him to be the sole provider. Eventually, you guys moved in together and you were still working. Though, he convinced you to work less hours and took you out on a date when you agreed. It wasn’t until you got pregnant with your first baby, did his wish come true. Shit, he was more excited when you both went down to your job to quit than he was to see the 2 pink lines.

“All the hours I work, being kept away from our family, my perfect wife -ngghh- my perfect wife’s pussy. And you still insist on usi-fuck- using your own money when you have access to my money- no our money, shit your money.” He moans grabbing your other hand and pulling it above your head with your other.

“Y-you pay for e-ever-“

“I’m supposed to baby. I want to.” He interrupts you, lifting your legs to his shoulders, and grabbing your phone with his free hand and sending your son $100 from his account. “Why must you make things complicated, love. I am the man, it’s my job to take care of you, our family. Let *thrust* me. Use my money for the kids, the house, the cars, whatever it is, I have enough, more than.” He kisses your lips softly, opposite to his thrusts. “Use your money I give you for you, whatever you want for you- shit for you. Everything I do is for you, everything I make, it’s yours, ours on paper, but it’s all yours. All for you.” He grunts into your ear, as if he’s teaching a lesson. Technically, he is.

“Don’t let me find out you aren’t using my money first again, okay hun?” He hums at you, a moaning teary mess.

“Now where were we?” He smiles before pulling out and flipping you on your stomach, lifting your ass up and spanking it. “Oh, right.” He chuckles as he spreads your cheeks apart, seeing your drooling sensitive pussy, clenching on air.

*edited but not proofread*

More:

Pussywhipped!Choso | part 2

Married!Eren x Maid!Reader

Ex-husband!Eren

Sylus mini

Nerd!Armin x reader x boyfriend!eren

Best friend!jean x reader

[chososcutie]

♡dilf!nanami♡

warnings: baby fever, mating press, unprotected sex, cumming inside

art creds to @hercaptain and @narutoss.ramen

dilf!nanami who is the girl dad ever.

in fact, when dilf!nanami heard you were expecting girl twins, he was already ordering the matching pink strollers and cribs and little newborn baby onesies.

dilf!nanami who throughout your entire pregnancy, was plastered to your side, making sure your every need was meet, and constantly with a hand on your tummy, feeling for the little baby kicks.

dilf!nanami who when the babies were first born, was with you every step of the way, getting up out of bed at three in the morning if it meant his tired wife could get a few extra hours of sleep, feeding bottles to both of them if your breasts were too sore, rocking them in his big beefy arms and whispering how “daddy’s here”, and even strapping them to his chest in baby slings while he ran errands.

dilf!nanami who you can find cooing at your baby girls, making them giggle as he bounces them on his lap, blowing raspberries on their tummies and tickling them as he keeps them entertained for you.

and not only is dilf!nanami the best father, but he’s also the best husband.

dilf!nanami who after tucking in the babies to bed, tiptoes away to your bedroom.

because while he has to make sure the babies are tended to, he also needs to tend to his baby.

dilf!nanami who takes quick strides to your shared bedroom, wasting no time in sprawling his buff frame over you, pinning you easily down as he huffs hoarsely in your ear, “kids are asleep” while his bulge presses into your soft tummy.

dilf!nanami who is already half-hard at just seeing your chubbed belly and plush hips, your post-pregnancy body was just so tantalizing to him.

dilf!nanami whose hands roam your body with a desperate kind of need, squeezing and kneading tenderly as he places kisses all along your neck and jaw.

dilf!nanami who grunts lowly as your grabby hands reach for his cock, hastily pulling down his boxers until his length slaps against his stomach, spilling pearlescent beads of oozing precum across himself.

dilf!nanami who is huuung, swollen balls and thickened base all leading up to a perfectly symmetrical cock, the tip flushed an angry red and twitching wildly at your gaze.

dilf!nanami who quickly hooks a finger into your panties, shoving them aside before lining himself up, so heavy between your legs you can't help the small moan of anticipation you let out, wriggling your hips up impatiently.

dilf!nanami who only chuckles at his wife's eagerness, too quick to oblige as he begins to push in, past that first tight ring of muscle while you suck him in deeper.

dilf!nanami who groans at the greediness of your slobbering pussy, already trying to milk him for all he's worth as you clamp on tight around him.

"f-fuck, m'.. hah.. gonna cum if you don't stop sucking me in like that sweetie."

dilf!nanami who begins to roll his hips forward, filling you up inch by inch as your moans slur together, tongue lolling out dumbly.

he was just so big, you couldn't help it if you were already cock-drunk!

dilf!nanami who watches as your eyes roll back in your head when he starts up a mean pace, hips snapping into yours ferally while your spit-glossed lips hang open helplessly.

dilf!nanami whose hand comes down between your legs to stroke your twitching clit, the cool metal of his silver wedding band making you jolt with pleasure as you squirm under him.

dilf!nanami's baritone rumble of your name brings you back, as he suddenly throws your legs over his broad-framed shoulders, candied pink lips crashing onto yours in a craze as he folds you into a nasty mating press.

"wan' .. hah.. make ya a pretty mama again.."

"what?" you're gasping for breath, eyelashes fluttering as a familiar coiling heat begins to pool low in your tummy, winding closer with every harsh smack! of his hips into yours.

"can you do that f'me, my love?" dilf!nanami's words have begun to slur, eyes glossy as his throat bobs, pushing your legs up higher 'n higher. "have my babies again?"

drool has begun to seep out of the corners of your lips and with a mindless nod, you find dilf!nanami's hips bucking sloppily as he gets closer.

"say it."

you feel your tummy knotting achingly tight and with a hoarse cry you practically scream out, "k-ken' make me a mommy again! please!" before you're cumming, and cumming hard, creaming all over his cock until it's forming a little ring at his base.

dilf!nanami who is cumming seconds after you, your filthy words sending him over the edge with a soft groan as ribbons 'n' ribbons of hot, milky cum are shooting into you, filling you endlessly up until you're clawing at his back and crying with how stuffed you feel.

dilf!nanami who shudders and jerks over you, whispering small praises as the last wispy remnants of his seed empty into you, fingers coming to stuff the glossy dredges beginning to seep out of your ruined pussy back in.

you hiccup softly, whilst dilf!nanami shushes and coos at you to take it all, lovingly stroking your cheek and placing small kisses on your face while you recover.

dilf!nanami who after giving you a couple more orgasms and tiring you out, hears the babies begin to wail from the other room, tucking you in snugly before whispering “i’ll do it, you get some rest my pretty mama..”

© 2025 CHOSOSCUTIE. please don't copy or translate any of my works. all rights reserved.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

tagslist: @stickyyyv4mp @iluvgogurt445

[satvrnsearth]

Imagine nanami’s face when he hears “shut up, mommy!” from your childs mouth. feel like he’d be passive aggressive idk. andddd maybeeee, possibly, a girl dad..

nanami was sitting by the couch, reading a book when he happened to overhear a conversation between his wife and his daughter.

“sweetheart, I know you want to play but I told you before that school work comes first.” you gently brush your fingers through your daughter’s hair, sensing her annoyance. You’ve been at it for a few minutes now, going back and forth. “no! I want to play!”

you sigh, crouching down to her level. “no, school work first."

nanami wanted to intervene, but he also wanted to see how you would handle this situation. that is, until—

“shut up, mommy!” she huffs, sniffling.

nanami's attention immediately turned to his daughter with a stern expression, clearly displeased with her words to you—his wife. you—though surprised at your daughter's outburst—held your composure.

nanami kneeled down in front of his daughter, his voice firm but not overly harsh, "you know better than to speak to your mother that way, young lady. It's not appropriate or respectful, and you need to apologize, right now.”

the little girl pouted, her bottom lip trembling slightly as she crossed her arms. nanami could see the defiance mixed with guilt in her eyes, but he remained steadfast, not budging from his position. you stood nearby, trying not to show the slight amusement on your face at your daughter's stubbornness.

nanami reached out, gently taking the little girl's hand in his own. His tone softened, slightly, as he spoke, "I understand you're upset, but there is no excuse for disrespecting your mother like that. I need you to say you're sorry, and mean it."

the little girl looked up at her father, her tough facade crumbling slightly. she squirmed in place, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. after a few seconds of silence–she finally muttered, "I'm...sorry, mommy."

nanami felt a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth, satisfied with her response. he nodded approvingly before turning to you, who gave a small, relieved smile in return.

💭;; might I say this is one of my fav works EVER??? idk i just liked this sm idk why

credits—

dividers: @cursed-carmine

[classyrbf]

you find it so funny how people think your husband, nanami, is the sweetest, most innocent and romantic man they’ve ever laid eyes on, such a gentleman. Which, they are correct in some ways. Gentleman. Check. Sweet. Check. Romantic. Check. He’s always buying you flowers, opening doors for you, kissing your hand, taking you out on spontaneous dates, calling you ‘sweetheart’, ‘honey’, ‘love’, and treating you like some porcelain doll. But innocent? Oh no, no. You almost laugh because it may seem like your husband is ‘innocent’ or ‘vanilla’ whichever term they may use, but he is anything but that. While he may treat you like a princess in public, he absolutely sluts you out behind closed doors.

You don’t blame people for thinking he may look and act soft because that was your first impression of him too. So, imagine the surprise when you first had sex and he was pounding you in a mating press, tears streaming down your face. Yeah, best night of your life. And now that you’re married? God, it makes the sex one hundreds times better than before. He’s go you on your side, one arm hooked under your leg, reaching so far that he’s able to wrap his hand around your throat. The other wrapped around your waist, rubbing your clit while he fucks his cum into you. He’s forcing you to look him in the eyes, faces inches away from each other, because he wants to watch your pretty face when you cum. So innocent, right?

“Oh my god! Fuck!” You cry out, your breathing labored. He’s so deep inside of you, the tip of his cock hitting your g-spot over and over again to the point it makes your head spin especially when he’s toying with your swollen clit. “I can’t! I can’t, Ken! You’re too fucking deep! Ah!” You grip onto the ruffled sheets below, bucking your hips as you attempt to make his cock not feel so good, but the bruising grip he has on your throat and waist puts you right back in your place.

“You can take it, sweetheart. I know you can. You know why?” He pulls you in closer, pressing his lips to your ear. “Cause you’re a fucking slut for this dick.” He thrusts his hips faster, skin slapping against skin and the mixture of your juices and his cum create a sticky mess between your thighs. “Awe, is that gonna make you cum? Being degraded? I can feel your pussy clenching me,” he darkly smiled, heavy breaths fanning against your damp skin. He rubbed your clit faster, carefully watching the way you threw your head back in pure bliss.

“Fuckkkk! You’re gonna make me cum again!” Your toes curled the closer you got to your orgasm, whimpering as you took in every feeling of pleasure coursing through you.

“Squirt all over this dick, baby. Be a good girl for me and show me how good I make you feel.” He felt your walls tightening with each passing second, sweat trailing down his forehead as he kept his pace. Your legs began to shake as you writhed under him, cursing and screaming as you squirted all over, soaking the blankets below you. “Messy fucking slut. Look at you, you’re still fucking going.”

“Oh my god! Yes, yes, yes!” Your brows furrowed as you watched him fuck you through your orgasm. “It’s too much, Ken!” You pulled his hand away from your clit, holding onto his wrist tightly while he slowed down his thrusts, now going deep and slow. You laid there in a dazed state, trying to catch your breath. His hand gently caressed your stomach slowly inching up towards your tits, cupping them in his hand while he placed sloppy kisses down your neck and to your collarbone.

So yes, while your husband may be such a gentleman, such a sweetheart, such an angel to others, in the back of your head, you think of those moments behind closed doors when he makes you cum your brains out, praising you and degrading you all within the same breath, choking you and treating you like some common whore. But after all that’s over, he’s back to treating you like the most delicate thing he’s ever touched. It’s truly the best of both worlds.

[nanamisgirly]

your dilf doesn't need 'perfect'　ྀི　

“w-wait—” you were panting, legs wrapped around his hips where dilf!nanami straddled you on the countertop. you pull back just as his mouth dragged open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

you don't remember how exactly you ended up there, how things turned from soft touches over dinner to a heavy make out session—tongue sliding between your lips, big hands pressing you against his chest. 

it's been months of holding back for both of you—resuming your relation to slow touches, soft kisses, and ‘no pressure sweetheart’ every time things started getting heavy. since you weren't experienced and kind of…scared, dilf!nanami suggested waiting til you're ready. and you've been grateful for it, even when you returned home some night aching and soaked from just making out with him.

and maybe all the courage you gathered to tug him in by his tie tonight and kiss him like you were desperate for it, had drained from your veins the moment you felt one of his hand sliding up your thigh and the other slipping under your shirt—hot, rough, calloused.

“did i go too far?” he asked, one hand still under your shirt, fingers hovering just under the band of your bra, not moving an inch. “it's okay. you don't need to explain. we can stop, sweetheart.” his lips were swollen—covered with spit. his eyes glassy and you could feel the weight of his cock pressing against your shorts.

“no—! no… i want to,” you blurted out too quickly, voice overlapping his, desperate not to be misunderstood. but even as you said it, you couldn't bring yourself to look at him in the eyes, so you turn your head, letting your hands rest on his broad shoulders as you continue, 

“it's just…” you exhaled, shame blooming fast in your chest. “i'm not confident about. . y'know.” you gesture vaguely toward your boobs. “they look nice in a bra and—uh…you've probably seen better. i know they look big in a bra, but they don't, well…stay up. they're soft, and…” your voice tightens. “i just…i've read things. about guys saying they were disappointed. or didn't want to even see them during the act, unless they were covered—” you laugh nervously, voice cracking. “it's so embarrassing. i-i didn't want you to see them and think—think they're…ugly.”

the silence that followed felt unbearable.

it only makes your anxiety grow and you feel so dumb for talking about it, maybe you should just have stopped and that's it…because nanami didn't move an inch since your little monologue, his honey eyes still trying to catch your gaze. 

your stomach drops. you start to shift trying to get off the counter, anything to escape mortification. “look, i'm sorry,” you say, heart pounding, eyes glassy. “i-i shouldn't have brought it up, i—umh—it's ok. i just thought that'd be nice to tell you before hand and huh…fuck i ruined everything didn't i?”

that's when you feel his hands coming to your hips, pinning you in place on the countertop. you gasp as he presses his cock against your core harder than ever—twitching with need.

when you looked up, his eyes had darkened. his brows were furrowed, jaw tight, emotion bleeding into every sharp line of his face. “that,” he said flatly, “is the stupidest fucking thing i've ever heard.”

your breath hitched.

“i'm not a boy with a warped idea of what women are supposed to look like.” he leaned in, cupping your jaw to be sure your eyes stay locked onto his. “i'm a grown man. you think i'm painfully hard, grinding against you, shaking, because i'm waiting for something ‘perfect’? sweetheart, i'm here, aching because it's you. all of you that i want.”

his voice was low, frayed. barely holding together. “let me very clear, sweetheart, i'm going to lose my mind when i see them, i will drop to my knees and thank the gods for putting someone as sweet as you.”

your lips part, trying to breathe through the whirl of embarrassment and affection and…arousal.

“ken—”

“does this—” he rasped, grabbing your wrist and guiding your trembling fingers down to the thick, pulsing shape of his cock straining in his slacks, “feel like someone who's going to be disappointed?”

you whimpered, your smaller fingers squeezing his boner. 

“f-fuck…” he shuddered. “if you want to stop,” he breathed, forehead falling to your shoulder. “i'll stop. if you want to wait, we'll wait. another month. another year. i don't care. anything you want, for you to be comfortable.”

but his voice cracked at the end—like he was hanging by a thread. you felt it too, his body coiled tight, like a beast barely leashed.

“you're too nice, ken.” you say teary-eyed, half laughing, half melting.

“well, k-keep squeezing me like that and i'm afraid i won't be nice any longer.” he groaned, lip brushing your neck.

your thighs wrapped tighter around him. “you can take it off,”

his head snapped up. “you sure?” his gaze held yours as his fingers brushed the hem of your shirt again, and when you nodded, “arms up, sweets,” he said softly, and you obeyed.

when he tosses delicately your shirt to the side, skilled fingers quickly find your bra and unclip it, oh very so slowly.

when your bra hit the floor, everything held still. like the world paused long enough for nanami to lose his mind quietly. his eyes dragged up, heavy-lidded and wrecked. one big hand came up—trembling—cupping your breast with a war raging in his mind : should i worship or ruin them?

“sweets,” he breathed, thumbing over one of your nipple, “they're perfect. so fucking perfect i feel like i'm hallucinating.”

[madamechrissy]

Nanami's addiction to his pretty wife

Cw- smut drabble, choking, oral, rough sex, obsessed dom Nanami

Nanami Kento loves to choke your pretty neck, his huge hand around your delicate throat. He loves to watch as his gold wedding ring presses into your skin. Your eyes rolling back in your skull, while your cunt soaks his thick, veiny cock, tight gummy walls pulsing around him, milking him.

He loves how you gasp, the ragged moans, while you're gripping his wrist, your own ring glinting under the lights as you cling tightly, gasping for a breath, only for him to squeeze tighter. You're fading, while his thumb presses your pulse point, blackness blurring the edges of your handsome husband's face.

You feel it, your orgasm coming, making your tummy tense as Nanami shoves his cock so deep, lifting one of your thighs up and rolling his hips. When his leaky reddened tip bullies its way into your walls and hits all your spots, you choke on your cries, cumming all over him, gushing arousal swirling down him.

He releases your throat right when you do, you hear that ringing in your ears as his hazel eyes assess you tenderly. He exhales and leans down, kissing along your neck while your aftershocks grip him, your whines echoing in his ears. Your cunt is dripping down his length as he eases out and back in, lips pressing the marks his hand left.

He leans up and sees tears glimmering on your cheeks, drool slid down the corner of you mouth. He is murmuring - 'darling you're a mess, let me help you' - You weakly nod, still pulsing around him. Nanami swipes your tears and drool, kissing your lips. Your hands slip down the strong muscles of his back, while he slows his thrusts.

Nanami can get feral when it comes to how badly he needs you, but he also knows he so huge and strong. Too strong. He loves to baby you after all of it, loves to pamper you in the shower, get on his knees and kiss his apologies to your cunt, whispering as you cry out - 'Kento!'

'I'm sorry pretty girl,' he'll whisper it to your cunt first. Then kiss up every bit of your body, sandy blond locks dripping as the hot spray hits him, and he caresses the bruises on your throat. They do something to him, his cock throbbing again, pressing on your tummy, and you can't help but want more.

Nanami is gentler after he loses it the first time, but make no mistakes, he's stretching you out on his cock, even as he's holding you againt the tile wall and whispering, 'so beautiful, darling I love you' he can't help but look at the marks he leaves on your body and get harder. 'l-love you, Ken- ngh!' At that, he thickens inside you as he fills you with cum, loving how your nails dig into his skin.

The shower leads to more and more aftercare and love, and the morning is no better, despite him making you pancakes and coffee, the handprint on your neck just makes him want to leave more instead. Your tummies are growling after another round, when he finally realizes you need to eat.

He's bashful and sweet as he feeds you, bite after bite, obsessed with his perfect wife to the point of insanity. Even the syrup on your lips has him lapping it off them later. Needless to say, his days off work are spent inside the house, and inside his wife.

I know he's freaky asf I don't buy he's vanilla 😤

[v1x3n]

nanamis whose been working overtime loads recently, trying to save enough money for a beautiful wedding. he often comes home tired and dazed, you know how the schedule goes.

you run a soft hand down his clothed chest, feeling the tired, tight muscles underneath. you murmur a softer, "missed you."

to which he grumbles something under his breath then smiles smally, "missed you too.." he lets a silence pass, a comfortable one, as your hands roam his chest and his hands roam your hips. "help me undress?" he suggests.

youve never gotten him out of his clothes faster, showing off his damp muscles, his large thighs, just his entire body was gorgeous to you. he guides you towarss the bed lazily, pushing you into the sheets, letting then swarm you. his eyes droop as he collapses ontop of you, "fuck, you smell good."

you breathe out a laugh as he picks himself up to undress you. he trails his fingers down your body, his mouth does the same. kissing along your skin, right over your stomach pudge then down to your thighs.

hastily dipping his fingers into the hems of your underaeae and throwing them aside. you gasp at the air hitting your glistening pussy. your eyebrows knitting together as you let out a deep breath. "can i?" he mumbles, kissing a small peck to your inner thigh. using his large hands to part your legs and get comfortable lent to press a smaller peck to your needy lips.

you nod once. "words, pretty."

"yes, please." you beg politely. his lips connect to your small bud, instant pleasure jolts through you and escapes with a loud gasp, "oh!"

kento sloppily kisses your clit, the small thing shining pink and hard. she twitches as he presses his tongue against you. he groans in your whines and whimpers, your hand burries itself in his hair - growing more soft groans from him. gently pulling on the strands, you moan out as his tongue travles downwards, past your sloppy folds and through to your juicy hole.

he slurps your wetness in a loud sound, salivating over the taste. you mewl loudly, your eyes rolling back in an instant.

god.

he tugs his nose into your clit as he licks your hole, stimulating both at the same time. he loves the way your legs twitch. fuck. he loves the way you taste, the way you sound, the way you look - fucking all five senses! then his licks grow faster and he dips the tip of his tongue into your tightness.

your orgasm is right on the brink, you can feel it. the coil twisting - about to explode. just a little more...

"oh, fuck, ken!" you breathe, teeth holding onto your bottom lip, scoring blood. then his tongue haults. "...ken?" you mumble, your body twitches in anticipation.

after a second of silence, orgasm vanished and you peak down to see him almost drooling onto the sheets. dead asleep.

his hair messy, naked, sleeping in between your legs. your hole tightens in the slightest. tou run a hand over his hair and let out a sharp breath. he looked perfect, his parted lips, his sloped nose, his sculptured face.

you wish you could be mad at the lack of orgasm but hin sleeping was far too cute. youll let him off with a warning.

[aquasoftware]

THANK YOU FOR 1K 🫶🏾🫶🏾

DON’T CALL ME SELFISH I AIN’T SHARING !!

CW | Smut/drabble (18 ↑) jealous séx, dōm! Reader, sūb! Kento, oblivious kento, petnames, shóóting blànks, rīdng, + overstīm.

WC | 0.6k ➜ ML

Kento Nanami, the same man who swore he’d never date a jealous woman because it’s “insanely childish,” ended up with you.

And now there he is–panting beneath you on the couch getting worn out.

This whole jealousy brewed at that party you both attended.

Women flirted with Kento all the time, but this was different because this lady in particular had clothes on so tight someone had mistaken it for paint.

The worst part is she clung onto his arm like a koala, giggling so loud as if she were a hyena at his jokes all while staring you dead in the eye.

Kento, the polite gentleman he is, only assumed she was being friendly—completely missing the way your jaw was locked and a vein threatened to burst in your neck.

The car ride home was silent. Your leg crossed over the other, fingers digging into your own thigh like it’d help you calm down. He glanced at you a few times but didn’t say a word.

Not until once you got into the house, immediately shoving him down onto the couch with enough force to knock the air out of his lungs.

Not wasting a single second your lips crushed against his, sloppy and furious, all tongue and teeth. His tie was yanked loose from his collar and flung somewhere across the living room. Pants and briefs shoved down with no mercy—your hand lazily stroking him while your eyes dared him to say something.

“Sweetheart—fuck, what’s this about?” he attempted to ask.

But your thighs were already caging his hips, your cunt sliding down onto him like he was just something to fill the ache between your legs.

He grunted, jaw falling open, as you started to ride him. Not slow, or sensual how you almost always did, just punishing.

“I don’t…” You paused moaning at the way his cock occupied your guts “Want other women touching you like that, you’re all mine.” you snapped, breathless—hips slamming into his pelvis like your pride was on the line.

“I’m sorry baby, I didn’t even notice—hah...” he choked out, his voice breaking on a groan when you clenched around him.

“Sure you didn’t.” you sneered, leaning down just enough to kiss him again—biting his bottom lip hard enough to make him hiss.

When you pop your hips up and down at that ruthless speed until he’s shooting blanks? This man goes feral, he doesn’t know whether or not to beg for more.

Your tits bounced with each snap of your hips, and he couldn’t take his eyes off them. One hand flew to your waist, trying to steady you. The other latched onto your breast like it was his only crutch, thumb flicking over your nipple as he gasped, “Too much—s-slow down, wait—hah, don’t stop—”

You listened, only barely. The rhythm slowed, but you kept grinding down like you wanted him to feel your jealousy in his bones.

“Poor thing, you don’t even know what you want me to do.” you whispered gently nibbling his jaw.

His answer came in the form of a deep, broken moan. Hips jerking up against yours, neck thrown back, lips parted in a gasp. He came hard, eyes fluttering shut as he spilled his last drops into you with a choked groan, your name tangled in the sound.

But you didn’t move.

You stayed seated right there on his cock, heart pounding, hands braced on his chest.

Only when his fingers brushed over your thigh—soft and reverent—did you lean forward and rest your forehead against his.

His breathing was shallow, shaky. But he was smiling, and breathlessly chuckling as his length twitched helplessly inside you—entirely drained.

“I might just make you jealous again if this is what happens.”

Divider creds | fic-dumpster.

A/n | @jup1tersuccubus asked me to write jealous sex w nanami so I wrote this.

[flowerymenendez]

Your back was arched like a cat, your chest pressed against the door, your pretty and expensive dress was pulled up and your panties discarded.

His big hand was covering your mouth, preventing you from moaning while he pounds his cock inside of your pussy, his other hand grabbing your waist with such force that it made you let out a pained whine against his hand.

Your cunt was drooling and a puddle slowly grew on the floor.

Both of you were in the bathroom because he couldn't wait till get home after your pathetic teasing in front of his friends at the restaurant. It wasn't even necessary to prepare you for his massive cock, you were already soaking the chair while just staring at him, your hand rubbing the growing bulge in his pants, teasing him. You put some excuses before standing up, walking towards the restroom, his heavy footsteps following behind.

Until here you are, being fucked by your "best friend", trying not to moan loud while he pushes his throbbing cock deep inside of you, kissing your cervix multiple times until you're a trembling mess in his arms.

You came messily around his girth, trying to push him away when he keeps fucking you and you start feeling overstimulated. He comes inside of you, bumping his hot and thick sperm in your pussy, filling your guts up.

He slowly slides out, stuffing his hand in his pocket and pulling out a pretty and shiny plug. Then, he slowly pushes it into your swollen and fucked cunny, not wasting a single drop of his semen inside of you.

Minutes later, you're both back with your friends, your legs were trembling and you tried to fix your messy makeup and hair.

You both kept chatting like nothing happened, with your pussy stuffed with his cum.

I'll just let you know that you'll have the best punishment when you both get home.

And, of course, the next day you couldn't even stand up.