boyfriend!nanami who always complain on how much clothes and shoes you have but buys you more regardless
boyfriend!nanami who let you choose how to decorate the apartment you two own with all white and pink and never complain
boyfriend!nanami who refuses to let you go sleep angry at him
boyfriend!nanami who randomly gets you kisses attacks
boyfriend!nanami who buys you flowers everyday day after work
boyfriend!nanami who always puts effort in movie night even though he knows your going to be asleep 15 minutes in
boyfriend!nanami who gets text from your dad more than you do - checking if you ran out Nanami money as yet and send random YouTube videos which Nanami watches in his free time
boyfriend!nanami who loves rubbing your thighs,head and anywhere he can get his hands on
boyfriend!nanami who is understanding when you need sometime alone because your social battery runs out
boyfriend!nanami who always has a hair tie on his wrist in case you need it
boyfriend!nanami who prepares bento box for both of you guys the night before
boyfriend!nanami who a polaroid of you in his wallet and another one in his phone case and a recent picture of you two on his wallpaper
est. oct 2025 sznza — do not modify, repost or plagiarise my content.
𝜗𝜚 nanami swore he’d keep things proper with the pretty baker next door. then he realized he couldn’t keep his dick soft around you . . .
it started with cookies.
well, no. it started with the new neighbor. tall. blond. built like a man who definitely didn’t need help moving boxes but did it anyway, sleeves rolled up, shirt slightly damp from the sun. you’d noticed him when you were watering your herb pots that morning. or more accurately, you’d noticed the little girl running around his front yard first, tiny and loud and dragging a stuffed bunny by one ear. she couldn’t have been older than six. and then he stepped out behind her, speaking gently, his voice low and smooth, not a single hair out of place despite the heat.
he didn’t smile, wave, or even glance in your direction.
which would’ve been fine, really. if you weren’t already covered in flour and halfway through baking for the café. you’d just pulled out a fresh batch of oatmeal cookies, perfectly golden, warm, and crispy around the edges. and of course, you were the kind of person who believed in being a good neighbor.
so you knocked on his door with a smile, tupperware clutched in both hands, wearing a ‘world’s okayest baker’ hoodie and a pair of fuzzy slippers because you didn’t expect to be judged for trying to be kind.
but he judged you anyway.
“hi,” you offered brightly when he answered, barely cracking the door open. “i live next door. thought i’d bring you guys something sweet.”
he looked at the cookies. then at you.
“thank you,” he said, polite but flat. “but we don’t eat much sugar.”
you blinked. “oh. well, your daughter might like—”
“i don’t let her eat things from strangers.”
you stood there for a beat too long.
then smiled again, tighter. “right. sure. yeah. that makes sense. wouldn’t want her to get.. poisoned or whatever.”
he nodded once and shut the door gently. you turned on your heel and stomped back to your kitchen, muttering under your breath.
“oh, we don’t eat sugar,” you mocked as you shoved a cookie in your mouth. “we don’t take things from strangers.” you opened your fridge too hard and a carton of eggs wobbled. “maybe your daughter would cry less if she had a goddamn chocolate chip for once.”
you weren’t mad. not really. just a little annoyed. okay, maybe salty, but only because the man had the audacity to look good and act like you were the problem. you tried to shrug it off.
except you kept seeing him. because well, he was your neighbor.
and worse: he was hot.
it was annoying.
he wore button-ups like they were tailored just for him. rolled his sleeves up when he mowed the lawn, muscles taut. when he jogged, his hair slicked back and his jaw clenched. you pretended not to look. he definitely didn’t look at you.
until he did.
the first time he offered to carry your groceries, you almost dropped them. he appeared out of nowhere, halfway down the steps of his porch, watching you struggle with two bags of flour and a carton of eggs. you hesitated, still a little wounded by cookiegate, but handed them over.
“sure. thanks.”
he still didn’t crack a smile. but he didn’t look annoyed either.
you told him your name as he followed you inside. he set the bags down on your counter and repeated it under his breath. it sounded good coming from him. stupidly good.
“i’m nanami kento.”
figures. of course his name was handsome..
he left after that, as quietly as he came. you stood in your kitchen, staring at the counter like an idiot.
you didn’t know it yet, but he was hard the entire time.
he hadn’t expected you to be barefoot on the tile, your shirt slipping lazily off one shoulder, and those tiny shorts clinging to your thighs as you bent slightly to open the fridge. the smell of cinnamon and sugar made his mouth water, but for something that wasn’t food.
he thought about you that night in the shower. tried not to, but he did. came faster than he meant to, head tilted back, biting down curses that sounded too much like your name. tried not to imagine the way your mouth would’ve looked around him— your tongue, your pretty little sounds. failed.
he told himself it would pass. it never did.
it only got worse.
he learned the hard way that he couldn’t keep his dick soft around you.
he was already halfway hard one morning when he walked out to grab the paper and saw you leaning out your window to shake a towel loose. your tank top barely covering anything as you waved at him, smiling. he waved back stiffly and went inside to jerk off with a disgusted sigh.
you were ruining him.
and you had no idea.
because you just kept showing up— dropping off extra banana bread, greeting his daughter with that soft, sweet smile, complimenting his tie one morning while licking strawberry jam off your fingers. you weren’t doing it on purpose, or maybe you were.
either way, it was a losing game.
“you always look at people’s hands like that?” he asked one day after he’d caught you staring longer than you should’ve.
“no,” you answered, wide-eyed. “they just.. stood out.”
he doesn’t even know what you meant by that. only that he had to excuse himself a minute later because he couldn’t walk around half-hard in his slacks with you standing five feet away in an apron and smirking.
he jerked off again that night. came so hard he almost blacked out, your name spilling from his lips between gasps. the guilt didn’t sink in until after.
and yet— he started opening the door more.
started waving first. started standing a little closer. you noticed, of course. and when you invited him to dinner one night after offering to bring over leftovers, he didn’t say no.
his daughter had already gone to sleep when he let you inside. you handed him a plastic container of curry with a sheepish grin. “i made too much.”
“so you’re a baker and a chef?”
“chef is generous,” you laughed. “i burn pasta all the time. but i can make you a mean sourdough!”
he didn’t laugh. but his mouth twitched. you considered that a win.
you stayed for dinner. then for the movie playing in his living room. it was quiet. just the two of you on the couch, the tv humming in the background, your head resting lazily against the cushion.
“kento,” you said after a while, voice soft, “why don’t you ever smile?”
he shrugged. “i do.”
“not around me.”
“i’m smiling now.”
“you’re not.”
“then maybe you should fix that.” he murmured.
your cheeks warmed. the room suddenly felt smaller. you shifted, knees brushing his. your hand landed on his thigh without thinking.
“you make it hard to behave.”
you looked up. “what?”
his eyes dropped to your mouth, then your chest. his jaw flexed.
“you know what you’re doing. all those looks. the touches. the cookies.”
“i was just being friendly.”
“you stare at my hands like you want them between your thighs.”
your breath hitched. he was still calm. still steady. but his voice was rough now, barely under control.
“you make me hard every damn day. i can’t sleep. i can’t think. all i see is you, walking around like you don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”
his hand slid under your jaw, thumb brushing your bottom lip.
“i want to make you mine. make you my wife. but first—” his voice dropped lower, eyes blazing, “—i need to see you fall apart.”
he kissed you. slow and deep, tongue teasing the corner of your mouth before claiming you fully. you moaned into it, fingers clawing at his shirt. he lifted you with ease, carried you down the hall, laid you on his bed like he’d fantasized about for weeks.
your clothes were gone in minutes. his followed.
his cock was thick, heavy, flushed dark and drooling against your stomach as he pressed in close, the heat of it made your whole body twitch, lashes fluttering up as he stared down at you.
“open your legs,” he said, voice dark. “let me see you.”
you obeyed without question, hips tilting. he groaned when he saw the mess between your folds, wet and sticky and so fucking needy.
“such a pretty girl,” he murmured, dragging his fingers through the slick that coats your pussy. “all this sweetness, and you give it to me.”
his mouth replaced his fingers without warning. tongue working you open slowly, then desperately, devouring your cunt like it’s his sole purpose in life. licking and sucking and spitting, loud and filthy, tongue flicking your clit until your moans go hoarse and your legs clamped around his shoulders, body arching into every suck.
two fingers stretched you open suddenly, thick and deep, curling hard against your walls. your fingers thread into his blond strands, tugging harshly.
“kento- f-fuck, ooh!”
“that’s it. give it to me, sweetheart.”
he doesn’t stop until your pussy’s soaked and twitching, clenching around nothing, dripping down your thighs and begging for more.
“need your cock,” you gasped. “please—”
he stood, dragging his hand over his cock, thumb swiping precum from the tip just to smear it down the shaft.
“oh, i know. you’ve been teasing me for weeks, haven’t you?”
he pressed the swollen head to your entrance, then paused.
“look at me.”
your eyes met his, wide and already glassy.
“i’ll take care of you.”
then he pushed in.
you cried out as he filled you inch by inch. he was big. way too big. your cunt struggled to take him, squeezing helplessly. he groaned above you, teeth gritted.
“fuck,” he hissed. “you’re so tight. so wet. you were made for this.”
your moans were nonstop when he starts to move. long, hard thrusts that leave you gasping. your legs wrapped tight around his waist, keeping him trapped. each drag of his cock hits delicously, you felt so full. stuffed so perfectly you could barely breathe.
“you want to be mine?” he whispered.
“yes- yes—!”
“you want this cock every night?”
“please- kento, i—!”
“then say it. say you want to be my wife.”
“i do. i want to be yours, i want it all.”
he fucks you harder than before after that. your thighs were shaking uncontrollably. he grabs one, bends your knee back, forces you open so wide he gets the perfect view of the creamy mess building up on his cock with every stroke.
“gonna fill you up,” he growled. “you’ll take it, won’t you?”
you nod. whimpering, walls fluttering. your cunt clenching so tight he curses, slamming in deep and staying there.
“you’ll look so pretty with my cum leaking out of you.”
he groaned into your neck as he empties inside, warm seed flooding your hole. you trembled beneath him, overstimulated and soaking. his chest presses to yours as he kiss your forehead softly, breath still ragged.
“mine.”
this is an old draft of mines and i rlly liked this concept n thought nanami was perfect for it :D i wanna start posting more for other characters soon so lmk who i should do in the future <3
thinking about a nanami kento who goes to the movies months after your breakup, a small caramel popcorn and a bottle of water in hand, and sits through a film he doesn’t care for.
he picked the last showing of the day for a reason. there’s only five other people in the room beside him.
the lights start to dim until he’s shrouded in darkness. the screen comes to life. a new silhouette enters about ten minutes late, hurries to their seat a few rows in front of him.
he tries the popcorn. too sweet for his preference, but it used to be your favorite flavor.
and the movie... well, it was always your thing, not his. nanami has never been one to keep up with all that. he only knows that it’s the latest installment in a franchise you were a fan of. he didn’t really see the appeal, but you liked it, and he loved you.
maybe that’s why he’s here when he could be just about anywhere else. he could be at home, with his unread pile of books and his unfulfilled plans for a life in a tropical country. because you had, once or twice, told him in passing, “i want to watch it with you when it comes out.”
instead, he’s in the company of strangers in a dark room, sipping his water and leaving the popcorn mostly untouched. it’s a little torturous, this he admits.
his heart aches. it’s been aching for a while now.
in his head, he’s apologizing to you for missing all the best parts of the film. he can’t bring himself to care about whatever is happening onscreen. he’s missing most of the movie. he misses all of you.
he ponders how you would react if you were right next to him. he thinks about your quiet laugh at the funny bits, your teary eyes when a sadder scene comes on. how you would rest your head on his shoulder, and he’d keep his arm around you the entire time, even if it was for two and a half hours. he’d kiss you every now and then, tracing the saccharine caramel on his own lips after you part.
then, of course, comes the most agonizing afterthought—if you’re doing any of it with someone new.
the movie ends soon enough, though he can’t tell if it’s to his relief or dismay. the credits roll, but the lights haven’t come on just yet. nanami’s fellow moviegoers start filtering out of the cinema, save for the one in the front. he sits with the music, with the lone stranger and with memories that only belong to the past now, like sacred things that he has no right to touch anymore.
the screen fades to black. the lights switch on gradually, one by one, until staff members enter on cleanup duty. the stranger stands; nanami freezes.
from a few rows away, he watches you smooth over your hair, sling your bag over one shoulder, how you don’t even notice him at all. he watches as you move—a polite smile on your face that doesn’t reach your eyes—past the employees on your way out.
the last thing he sees before you disappear into the hallway, is the way your fingers tug at the cardigan around your shoulders, pulling it tighter around your body. the same cardigan he left at your place and never asked for back, the one he hoped you wouldn’t toss.
not yet, at least. it’s also about sitting on nanami’s lap in nothing but his t-shirt whilst you make out with him. his warm palms sliding down the length of your bare skin and roaming your body, running his fingers over your nipples and groaning into your mouth in return when it makes you whimper.
it’s about grinding down on his erection, your hips moving on their own because you’re way too needy, and his hands coming to steady your waist because he’s about to fucking cum in his pants from you just pressed up against him like this, and he desperately needs you to slow down.
it’s about him wanting more with you — of course he does, you’re perfect — but holding back because god, this is only the fourth date and somehow already the third glass of wine tonight and he needs to slow things down because he really fucking likes you and he doesn’t want to move too fast. he’s serious about you, and he wants nothing more than to prove that to you.
and then it’s him finally giving in when you’re sucking on his neck and whimpering quietly in his ear, right after you’ve guided his hands to rest on your breasts and begged him to just touch me, kento, please. because how is he supposed to resist you when you’re asking him so sweetly like this?
then, it’s him kneeling down in front of you, his pupils blown, coaxing you to spread your legs for him, pretty girl, so he can give you what you want. it’s him fucking groaning, cursing under his breath and then immediately apologising for it, after he sees that you’re already sticky and messy between your thighs from just some light touching.
it’s him pressing kisses to your heat, but only through your thin cotton panties, like this is the second round to your make-out session — except now he’s decided it’s time to shower another part of you with some love. it’s him asking you to spread yourself wider for him, and then pulling the fabric aside and lapping at your folds like he’s a man starved — because really, he is — the sight of you unraveling enough to make his own cock twitch and throb in his pants.
it’s him almost cumming untouched when your orgasm hits you, because your walls are clenching and spasming around his fingers — and his mind is already imagining the way you’ll do the same around his cock. he thinks it might be hard for you to take him at first, but he’s sure he can work you open and train you to take him with ease eventually.
not yet, though, because this is enough for now. because listening to your moans when he pleasures you with his fingers and tongue is more than enough for him. he cleans you up and you wrap your arms around him and giggle into his chest, and with a heart filled with nothing but overwhelming fondness for you, he thinks to himself yeah, i’m never letting her go.
he’ll tell you that — and more — when the time is right, but for now he apologises again for letting things go too far (even when you shake your head and insist that it’s okay!), pulls you close, and continues watching the movie with his heart pounding hard in his chest and his cock straining against his pants.
The sky dawned clear, with that soft blue that seems straight out of a painting. Nanami had gotten up before you, preparing everything with his characteristic precision: perfectly sliced sandwiches, fresh fruit, juice, and a small blanket folded with almost military accuracy. You were still half asleep, watching him move with his characteristic calm, while Rei, from her crib, amused herself by banging her bunny plushie against the railing, laughing with that laugh that was the perfect blend of the two of you.
“Ready for your first picnic, princess?” Nanami murmured, picking her up with a gentleness that almost seemed afraid of breaking something so small. Rei just looked at him with her enormous eyes and replied with a cheerful babble:
“Paaa!” It made you laugh. It made him laugh too, although he tried to hide his smile behind his usual serenity. The park wasn't far, but Rei insisted (in her own way) on walking. She was barely a year and a half old, and each step she took was a small victory. Her little legs wobbled, but her determination was as strong as her father's. Nanami followed her, hands ready in case she tripped, and you, a few steps behind, couldn't help but laugh as you watched her try to greet everyone who passed by.
"A'to!" Rei would say, waving her little hand.
A woman returned the greeting with a "How cute!" and Rei would burst into laughter that made her wobble.
"She's more sociable than you and I put together," you whispered to Nanami. He let out a small, nasal laugh. "Definitely more than me."
The park was quiet when they arrived. Nanami spread the blanket under a young cherry tree, whose branches offered light, cool shade. The air smelled of freshly cut grass and flowers, and Rei, as small as she was curious, couldn't stay still. The moment her feet touched the ground, she began to wobble from side to side with her tiny steps. Insecure, laughing every time one of you helped her avoid falling.
"Go slowly, love," you told her, watching her.
But Rei, of course, had other plans.
She wanted to explore.
She approached the flowers, extended her little hand, and then withdrew it with a surprised "ah!" She greeted everyone who passed by with a wave, though her "hello" came out more like "laaa!" Even a dog trotting by caught her attention and her excited babble.
"No, little one," Nanami said patiently when she tried to put the flowers in her mouth.
She looked at him with those round, mischievous eyes and blurted out, "Papaaaa..." You laughed.
"She's manipulating you, you know that?"
"I know," he replied, sighing. "And it's working."
Nanami held her with one hand while offering her a small piece of bread with the other. Rei took it and, before eating it, tried to offer it to you first.
"See that?" he said, with a half-smile. "She's already learned to take care of you too."
The rest of the picnic is a mixture of laughter and adorable chaos: Rei squashes pieces of fruit with her little hands, tries to share her juice-soaked cookie with you, and laughs when Nanami sneezes because of the pollen. He, though always serious, never stops looking at her with infinite tenderness. Every now and then, he picks her up and shows her the little birds flying nearby, speaking to her in a low, patient voice, as if each word were a secret just for her.
And you watch them, your heart full.
Seeing him like this—without his suit, without the rigidity of work, just as Dad—disarms you.
At one point, the wind blew stronger and a small leaf fell right on her head. Nanami brushed it off with such a delicate gesture that it felt like a caress.
Rei laughed, stretching his little hand to touch his face.
"Papa!" she babbled, touching his nose.
"Yes, I'm papa," he answered in a low voice, almost as if it were a secret.
You watched him then, with the sunlight filtering through the leaves, with Rei in his lap, and you felt something so warm it ached in your chest: that quiet certainty that this, this very moment, was what you had always wanted.
As the sun begins to set and the light turns golden, Rei falls asleep in Nanami's arms. Her head rests against his chest, and he rocks her gently, unaware that he is looking at you with the same tenderness he looks at his daughter.
"I don't know how it happened," he murmurs softly, almost to himself. "But this... this is the most beautiful thing that has ever happened to me."
You lie down beside him, resting your head on his shoulder as the wind stirs the leaves above you.
Rei sighs in her sleep, and Nanami carefully draped his arm over her.
"I promise we'll always give her more days like this," he said, almost whispering. "Peaceful days. Good days." And there, with the sun setting and your little family nestled in its light, you feel there's no place more perfect in the world than that little patch of grass where the three of you are.
tutor!nanami fucking you in the back of the library. Rows of shelves block your view, but you still hear the faint voices of others while he’s deep inside you. You’re sat atop the table, skirt hiked up around your waist, panties pushed to the side, and your shirt unbuttoned, leaving him easy access to your tits. He’s slowly rocking his hips, trying to be as quiet as possible, but it’s hard to resist when you’re quite literally milking his cock.
“Fuck you’re so tight!” He whispers, letting out a shaky breath when he goes balls deep. He ruts his hips into you, the table knocking against the wall with each thrust.
“Mmmph! Oh my god!” You suck in a breath, whimpering when his tip nudges against your g-spot, his length dragging along your gummy walls, your entire body heating up.
“Shhhh, sweetheart,” he lowly chuckles. “You’re gonna get us caught.” He moves your shirt to the side, his hand gliding up to cup your breast, his thumb rolling over your hard nipples. You bite down on your lip, hands gripping the edge of the table to steady yourself.
“I’m sorry!” You squeak. “It just feels so good. I…I can’t.” You gulp, hand flying up to your mouth to muffle your moans. It was impossible for you. The thrill of getting caught just makes your heart pound faster and your cunt wetter.
“Are you getting turned on by this? Look at how wet you are—holy shit. You’re so filthy.” He clenches his jaw, a groan escaping his throat. He pulls at you nipple, his other hand hooked under your knee, making sure to keep your legs spread. He tosses his head back, letting out another shaky breath to keep himself from moaning. “I’m so close already, you’re so goddamn wet.”
You squeeze your eyes shut, your entire body tingling, cunt throbbing as you draw nearer to your orgasm. Would now be a good time to tell him you’re a squirter? “K-Ken…slow down…I’m gonna—ah!” You quiver in his hold, trying to shut yourself up as your orgasm creeps up on you by the second. Your head is spinning, the pressure building up the more he pounds into your g-spot. “Stop, stop, stop, I’m gonna squirt—nnngh! It’s gonna—ah—get everywhereeeeee—mmmph!” His hand flys up to your mouth, your pussy gushing clear liquid, soaking his new khakis, and the carpet below.
“Shut up. Shut the fuck up,” he growls into your ear, fucking you through your orgasm. Your nails dig into his shoulders, nostrils flared as you breathe heavy, chest heaving. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Should cum inside you and have it leaking out all day.” He smirks against your skin, feeling your cunt physically respond to his words, clenching around him tightly. “Awe, is that what you want?” He coos. You frantically nod.
He slams inside of you a few more times, his leaking tip kissing your cervix, pinning you against the table while he fills you with his hot seed, spurts of sticky cum coating your walls. “Nice and deep,” he rasps, slowly pulling out of you. He puts your panties back in place, making sure his cum doesn’t leak out. “Perfect.”
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