Nanami Kento X Black Reader - Blog Posts

need help? salarymen! Nanami Kento x fem! black reader.

synopsis: you help your overworked colleague to solve his little -big- problem.

warning: nsfw (MDNI), creampie, sex in an office, perv nanami?, sucking d!ck, precum, sperm, beg, blowjob, dirty name, I think it’s all. (emphasis on black reader but accessible for everyone!)

words: 2430.

masterlist

Nanami was just about to leave after a long, exhausting day when his boss appeared behind him, as if on cue, to dump more work on his desk. "What an asshole", Nanami thought, forcing a polite smile as he reluctantly accepted the extra burden. He despised overtime, yet it seemed to follow him like a shadow.

Nanami got to work, cursing his boss. His gaze turned to his colleagues, who were packing their things to go home to relax after a long day. Unlike them, he was stuck here, chained to his desk like a fucking slave. He hated this job with every fiber of his being.

An hour later he decides to take a break. he had too much extra work. His boss wanted him dead? If that's not the case, he still doesn't believe it.

He closed his eyes, his mind wandering to bread, the last book he started but couldn't finish, his old life in jujutsu, and sex. Sex. He missed it.

He was not a sex addict but the pleasure of having a woman to fuck as he wanted and submissive to him. He loved. He wanted to taste again this pleasure that he lost for a few months.

He suddenly thinks of the colleague he often meets.

She was so beautiful. Her afro that sublimated her. Her brown eyes with which she looked at him so intensely. Her slightly pink and luscious black lips whose lip gloss sublimates even more these lips and her white teeth that she exposed so proudly when she smiled at him.

He wondered how good those lips would feel around his cock, how her lip gloss would stick to the base of his dick, how her intense tear-filled gaze would look at him and how her mascara would run with it.

Damn, he's horny as hell.

To make matters worse, he was thinking about the cleavage that revealed those fucking big brown breasts that reflected the sunlight. He wanted to stick his head in there. His fucking big ass in those pencil skirts that showed off his ass more than ever.

His mind wandered even more, haunted by the way she was affecting him. His hand instinctively went down to his pants, with a feverish gesture, he undid his pants and his boxer releasing his erection into the open air. He began to go back and forth on his dick thinking about how he would fuck her like she deserves.

"Fuck.. y/n.", he moans and grunts thinking he's alone upstairs.

Light footsteps sounded behind Nanami, but he paid them no mind, lost in inappropriate thoughts about his colleague. They stopped inches away from him, almost pulling him out of his reverie.

Noticing a presence near him, he removes his hand from his cock and opens his eyes. It was y/n who was next to him. You look at him surprised but a glimmer of desire passes in his eyes. You smile and look at his big veiny cock directed towards you.

"Y/n? Fuck! Sorry forget it please… I'm begging you."

“Forget it? Impossible,” you smile and point to his cock that is throbbing under your gaze, precum dripping from its red tip and begging for attention.

"Please..", you laugh lightly and move closer to him. You take his jaw in your hand and force him to look you in the eyes.

"Who knew my unchalant coworker was such a pervert, jerking off at work and moaning my name?"

“Y/n…”, his voice breaks. He looks at you helplessly but so excited under your words and your intense gaze.

"Need help? I'm feeling generous I want to help you with your problem nanami.", your whisper in his ear in such a sensual way that his cock moves.

"Please.", you smile and kneel in front of him. You continue to look at him then place your hand so soft on his needy cock that he could cum right away.

You start to touch him slowly, testing his patience. You spit on your hand and speed up your hand movements. He watches the contrast of your brown hand jerking his white cock. Fuck, he doesn't know why but it turns him on even more.

You place light kisses on his pretty veins and his tip then lick his length but still don't put him in your mouth. He can't take it anymore. He just wants his cock in your wet and warm mouth. His dominant aura takes over.

His hand slides into your carefully styled afro and tugs on it, forcing you to look at him. You smile at him. This is what you wanted. For him to make you submissive to him like in your wet dreams about him. You just dream of his big cock in your mouth.

Damn, you're horny as hell.

"Be a good girl for me. Put it in your mouth.", he removes his hand from your hair, sliding it over your cheek to caress you. You open your mouth, so eager to want to satisfy him. "Stick out your tongue.", you do of course. He takes the base of his cock and slaps your tongue. The precum spurts into your mouth.

He removes his hands from you and lets you do it, not wanting to rush you too much even though he wants to do such dirty things to you right now. You close your mouth on him and tease his tip with your tongue. He tastes so good. You could become addicted.

He moans softly, looking you as you stare at the blond hairs at the base of his cock promising you that he'll manage to stick your lips to it one day.

You start swallowing each inch by inch into your hot mouth and hollow your cheeks to give him more pleasure. You breathe through your nose so your breath settles on his sensitive big dick which makes him tremble in spite of himself.

You smile and start sucking him and accompanying your hand to compensate for the inches you can't take. You spit on him to make it easier. Your other hand starts playing with those filled and warm balls.

You lick it, suck it, jerk it, spit it, drool on it. You're a fucking mess. Your face.. Fuck, it's sexy and messed up at the same time. Your eyes are filled with tears and black from your mascara that ran because of your tears. Your chin is filled with drool, spit and precum.

Your little black panties were ruined, you were sure of it seeing how wet you were just because you sucked him and he mistreated you like he wanted you in his life. Your feet were shaking but you didn't care you preferred to take care of the man who obsessed you every day. You weren't in your normal state just like him.

Nanami looks at your defeated and horny face and the floor soaked with your fluids leaking from your panties. Shit. Were you such a slut for him? The thought makes him laugh inwardly. You were better than in those dreams.

He suddenly pulls his big soaking wet dick out of your mouth and gasps loudly. He was going to cum. He wants to make the moment last longer. You look at him surprised and astonished at the disappearance, your mouth feels lonely and empty. You could have cried because of that.

"Fuck Y/n. You said I was a pervert but look at you you're so horny just sucking my cock.", he smiles and watches you. "You're so slutty my angel."

"Nanami…"

"Need help? I'm feeling generous I want to help you with your problem Y/n.", he smiles wickedly and repeats the same sentence you told him before.

"Please.", he smiles and grabs you by the jaw and pulls you up. Your legs are shaking and threatening to collapse. You curse yourself for wearing such uncomfortable heels.

He takes his things off his desk and puts you on it. He slides his hands on your waist and brings his face closer to yours. How could he resist you for so long? You're so beautiful. One of his hands places itself on your face and wipes away your tears.

You slide your hands around his neck and move closer to him and look him straight in the eyes. How could you resist him for so long? He's so sexy. You kiss him so shyly that you don't recognize yourself. You close your eyes and open your legs.

He kisses you back softly wanting to be gentle with you. Your tongues intertwine together. You taste each other. It feels so good. He sees you close your eyes and does the same. He gets between your legs.

His dick snakes under your skirt and rubs against your soaked panties. You moan into the kiss and so does he. Damn why are you doing the same things? Is your future mapped out to be with this man? You pray inwardly that it will be the case.

You pull away from each other, a trickle of drool connects you. You're panting so hard. His other hand slides up your skirt to pull it up to your waist and then his fingers tease your folds through your wetness. He brings those fingers to his mouth.

“You taste so good. I could get addicted.”, he wets his fingers with his drool and puts his fingers back near your needy and hot pussy. “Do you think you deserve these fingers baby?”

Your mind is too muddled to speak but you nod. You need it terribly. Those big thick fingers stretching your insides, you've dreamed of them countless times.

"I guess I can do you that favor.. you sucked my cock amazingly. That mouth was made for me wasn't it?" He strokes your slightly dry bottom lip. He licks your lips and kisses you again but more roughly.

He moves your black panties to the side and rubs his fingers against your soaking black folds. His thumb circles your clit that needs attention. You moan Nanami's name and beg for his fingers.

A smile stretched his lips seeing you so eager. Without waiting, he slid a finger into your tight, hot entrance, with disconcerting ease. A moan escaped him at the sensation. You moaned too, filled with pleasure. You felt so good.

A second finger inserts itself as easily as the first, gently sinking into your intimacy. He begins to move, drawing slow and deep back and forths. His gaze falls on his fingers, watching them disappear and reappear. The idea of ​​his dick following the same path obsesses him, making him even more feverish.

His thumb continues to stroke your clit, which begins to swell with pleasure. You squirm on his fingers, but your movement is abruptly halted when he slaps your clit, drawing a plaintive moan from you. Tears well up in your eyes, but he remains merciless. Ignoring your silent pleas, he pushes his fingers deeper, expertly curling them to reach your g-spot.

How delicious. Your eyes roll back, overwhelmed by a wave of pleasure that envelops you entirely. Your nails instinctively dig into his shoulders, searching for an anchor point. You want to come, even if it's way too soon, almost ridiculous when he's only slid two fingers inside you. Incoherent words escape your lips, betraying how weak this man makes you.

"With just two fingers you can't talk anymore. What a bitch you are. What do you want to tell me baby?", he smiled wickedly, he curled his fingers even more. You almost screamed but you bit your lip. "Come on.. use your words be a good girl. You don't want to disappoint me do you?"

"N-no, I don't want to... I-I'm gonna cum, it's- it's too soon..."

"Fuck with two fingers you want to cum already? Fucking slut."

He pulls out those wet fingers leaving you empty. He brings his hand to his cock and kisses you roughly. He rubs his cock between your wet folds and your clit. His precum drips onto the black hairs of your pussy.

"I don’t have a condom.. fuck.", he rests his head against your shoulder frustrated and excited.

"It's okay.. fuck me please. Fill me.", whisper in his ear.

"You're gonna be the death of me, shit... I'm starting to come in.", he breathes hard and starts to enter little by little in your hot little pussy, soaked, tight like a virgin. He holds himself back from cumming, you were better than in his dreams.

You moan from the intrusion. He’s so big, thick. How good it feels… the stretch makes you see stars. He finishes entering you and doesn’t move anymore, giving you time to adjust to his length. He places kisses on your shoulder then on your jaw.

You whisper to him that he can move. He doesn't hesitate and moves immediately. His hips press against yours. The wet sounds of his cock coated in your spit and drool and your soaking wet pussy.

His hand slides around your waist to hold you against him wanting the contact of your brown skin against it. You moan loudly and scream his name forgetting that you are at work. His hand places itself over your mouth to silence you.

"Shut up. Don't you want the whole building to hear how I fuck you like the slut you are?", you wanted to say that you wanted it but you're not that crazy.

He smiles and makes his movements faster and deeper inside you. He searches for your g-spot wanting to make you twist with pleasure for him. He whispers dirty words in your ear that make you wetter even more.

Minutes pass and he continues to fuck you moaning feeling your little pussy swallow him. Your spongy walls flutter around his big cock that destroys your senses. You can only moan and beg him for more. You become addicted to him.

"Na- nanami I'm go- going.. to cum..", he looks at you and slides his hand on your swollen clit, rubbing circles on it.

"Cum for me. Be a good girl for me.", you moan as if to say you agree. His movements become less rhythmic but deeper meaning that he is going to cum too. "Your pussy is made for me Y/n.", his dick was made for you, you could only agree.

A few hip thrusts later you cum at the same time. He empties himself inside you, filling your walls with his hot, viscous white seed. Your walls milk him wanting to keep every last drop inside you.

Your limbs tremble from the pleasure felt and become numb. You thought you saw the stars. You breathe hard, searching for air as best you could. He rests his head on your shoulder, exhausted but satisfied. Nanami hopes you liked it too.

He pulls out of you, his soft member soaked with your juices. His gaze falls on your satisfied expressions then on your black pussy whose sperm flows between your wet folds.

"I'll fuck you better and in bed baby I promise.", he kisses you promising himself to take you on a date like you deserve as the woman you are.

any opinion is appreciated! thanks for reading till the end 💗

requests: OPEN.

© 2024 itelya. All work belongs to @itelya. Do NOT repost, modify, translate or plagiarize in any way on ANY platforms.

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black!Fem Reader

Rating/CW: Just a fluffy drabble of Nanami Kento loving you.

Summary: Early morning musings.

a/n: I've really been suffering from writer's block these past few months. The words come and go at a pace that's maddening, but thankfully, they stayed long enough for me to write this little piece.

JJK Masterlist | Divider: @saradika-graphics

©mysteria157, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, modify, or translate (without permission) my work to other accounts and platforms.

"How did I get so lucky?"

It's the question that surfaces in Nanami's mind as he watches you sleep beside him, early morning light casting gentle shadows across your features. Your breathing is steady, peaceful, a barely there rumble with every inhale that he’s memorized over countless mornings like this one. Just as he’s done many times before, he traces the outline of your form, fingertips ghosting over your skin without disturbing you.

In those first few mornings of your relationship, your eyes would flutter open just from the proximity of his touch, catching him in his admiration. He wouldn’t bother to hide the blush, you would throw him a sleepy smile, then succumb to sleep again. Now, many mornings later, you’ve grown accustomed to his gentle exploration, allowing him to follow the curve of your shoulder, reconnecting the constellations that pepper your brown skin without stirring from your dreams.

In this position, while you sleep on your stomach, he can admire the subtle roll of skin on your neck where it meets your shoulder—a gentle landscape formed by the angle of your head against the silk pillow. It may be his own imaginings, but he can already smell the Shea butter from your neck, warming from the rising sun and wafting to tickle his nose in a half-remembered dream that lingers many hours into his work day.

Your diamond earrings glint in the morning light—beautiful studs you refuse to remove despite his concerns. He’s learned to love this small token of rebellion, unafraid to admit that the way the jewelry complements your skin makes you look particularly ethereal in the waking hours. The sunlight hits these diamonds at the right angle, splintering light in a mix of purple and green that plays across the curve of your cheek, as if nature is adorning you herself.

Even while unconscious, you are beautiful.

He traces up, fingertips brushing your lobe before smoothing through edges that have smeared on your skin like delicate wisps of morning fog. They’re perfect, tiny coils and curls that defy rule and frizz along your hairline, peeking from the cream satin bonnet. That bonnet, somehow still attached to you despite how wildly you sleep, showcases to him all the care you take with yourself, all the traditions passed sacred to you that he’s been allowed to learn, to witness, to cherish.

And god, how he cherishes the uninhibited abandon in which you sleep—the complete trust spoken in the way you sprawl across a mattress that was once solely his. Your cheek is creased from your pillowcase and hands, the corners of your lashes crystallized with evidence of your dreams, and your lips—slightly parted, pillowed with relaxation—glisten at one corner with moisture you have long stopped being embarrassed about in his presence.

It’s you in your purest form—unguarded, unfiltered, displaying a beauty more profound than anything the waking world gets to see. It’s you without makeup, you without measured words, underneath social performances, practiced smiles, and expectations—the raw truth of you, morning breath and all.

Just his. It’s a privilege so deep that it makes his chest ache, the gratitude overwhelming.

"How did I get so lucky?"

Nanami remembers the strict parameters he once set around relationships—the necessary boundaries, the premeditated time commitments, the emotional distance he maintained without thinking. Work—for as firm as he is about clocking out on time—came first, then necessities, then, if time allowed and he had the mental stamina, connection. For him, it was efficient. But terribly lonely.

Naturally, you shifted it all without trying.

The memory of seeing you for the first time still replays in his mind—fresh as the day it happened, enhanced by his own untempered affection that grows over time. He’s carried an unspoken envy for his parents’ love-at-first-sight story his entire life, a curmudgeon of his own making that could also speak of self-sabotage in relationships that never lasted. Surely they were exaggerating? Love at first sight? As if the cosmos aligned at the right moment to bring Mr. and Mrs. Nanami together? Nanami refused to believe it.

And yet he’ll tell anyone who will listen that every grievance he held about the concept evaporated the moment he saw you. Surrounded by greenery and the stifling heat of a plant nursery, perfect textured hair framing your face that pursed with contemplation, neck curved over a large Monstera Deliciosa. A sage sundress that fluttered over your form like gossamer wings catching the sunlight, the shimmer of your sunscreen across the expanse of your shoulders like dewdrops, a cock in your hip as you studied the plant only made you stand out as sublime elegance amongst the foliage.

Admittedly, he remembers feeling only embarrassment when he reached for the plant before his mind could truly register your presence—his original quest into the nursery solely to find a gift for his secretary, who was becoming a new mother.

He remembers the embarrassment flaring liquid hot in his chest when your eyes flashed with surprise and indignation that he would take something you had mentally staked claim to. He remembers how disorienting it all was—the sudden awareness of you as if the rest of the nursery had faded to shadows. Your brow had lifted in disbelief as you rolled your eyes and brushed past him, the subtle scent of what he now knows as Shea butter lingering in the humid air. Nanami found himself frozen, the Monstera forgotten in his hands, his perfectly ordered thoughts scattering like leaves in a sudden breeze.

He remembers how that white hot embarrassment quickly morphed into something unfamiliar, fleeting in previous relationships but never as prominent as in that moment—a flutter in his stomach, a tightness in his chest, and a desperation that he’s thankful to have embraced.

“I’m buying a gift for a new mother, but maybe I can find something that would not require so much care,” he’d said, the words tumbling from his mouth like a wobbling newborn calf as he watched you stop, turn to face him, guarded eyes taking him in. “Do you have any suggestions?”

He remembers how his heart hammered against his ribcage as he waited for your response, how the simple act of breathing seemed almost impossible. How utterly mortifying it was to realize that in thirty seconds, you had changed everything for him. How unbelievably confused he felt when the cosmos he mocked aligned for him when he ran into you at a bookstore days later, giving him the courage to ask you for coffee, for your number, for a date, and the many that followed to create the perfect cacophony of love.

"How did I get so lucky?"

It’s almost ridiculous how fortunate he is. How he gets to hear you laugh—genuine and unrestrained, choked around a snort when he’s said something particularly dry. How he gets to hear your musings in the comfort of your home—the melodic cadence of your humming when you bake, the unprecedented sailor mouth that would make his mother faint, the conversations you have with your dog as he follows you to the backyard. Every day, despite being subject to it many times, it feels like the very first time.

The novelty of it will never fade, because Nanami still calculates how to make you laugh so hard your lashes bubble with tears. He still asks what song you’re humming, knowing you’ll always reply “I made it up”. He still pretends to be shocked that the way a curse word flies from your mouth doesn’t make him unnaturally turned on. He still raises both brows when he hears you conversing with the dog, even though he has embraced the same habit.

"How did I get so lucky?"

The variation of thought comes naturally as his fingers fall back to his side, careful not to disturb you. There was a time when luck meant nothing to him—when grief was the only emotion he allowed himself to fully embrace, a painful reminder of his humanity when everything else felt hollow.

There was only one person who had truly seen him—experienced and witnessed the raw parts of the awkward growth through puberty, commiserated over failed crushes, shared late nights playing video games, and made him laugh until his stomach hurt. When that person was ripped away before their life could truly begin, it left Nanami in denial for so long that isolation became his sanctuary.

Each subsequent attempt at connection through romantic means only reinforced what experience had taught him—that opening a sliver of himself inevitably led to another goodbye, another confirmation that vulnerability was simply an invitation for devastation.

So it’s odd how that worry sprouted in the youth of your relationship with him but was never strong enough to take root. He was healthier, stronger even, and intelligent enough to know that you would not settle for someone who only loved in half-truths. For the first time, the fear of losing someone by not trying, outweighed the fear of the pain that might come with trying and failing.

When Nanami had the choice between protecting himself and never knowing you completely, or risking that devastation for the chance to build something real, he found himself making a choice that his deceased friend would have encouraged with a smile that could make the sun rise.

His efforts have paid off.

As the world wakes up and the noise of cars increases from the cracked window, Nanami counts his lucky stars that he tried. As he watches you sleep, he feels something swell in his chest—a fullness that once scared him but now feels like coming home after a long day.

Soon, he’ll slip out of bed like he does every morning, each day a ritual of thankfulness for the life he almost denied himself. Soon he’ll walk into the kitchen and measure coffee grounds with the same precision he applies to everything, his eyes drifting to the mug you always use—chipped on the handle, crafted from an impromptu class you dragged him to as a second date. He’d been so focused on not embarrassing himself with clumsy hands that he’d missed the exact moment you decided he was worth keeping.

Soon he will slide a fresh cup to you across the counter, taking in your ruffled form—bonnet still secure, eyes heavy with sleep, a blanket wrapped around you because you’re always cold, even in summer. The sight will catch in his throat like it always does, you trusting and vulnerable, showing a version of yourself that transforms his once sterile apartment into a home where love blooms in every corner.

But for now, he watches as you grumble and smack your lips, rolling over until your head is resting on his chest. He blooms with heat, an iridescent sensation that radiates outward from that exact spot, like your memory lives beneath his skin and thrums to life when you’re close. You wrap an arm around him, whether it’s to test the firmness of a pillow or to make sure it’s still him, he’s not quite sure. But it means nothing when you fall back into slumber, snoring softly against him, your breath a metronome that’s synched with his over time.

The rush of it all settles into his bones like it does every morning as he relaxes, his hand tracing the column of your spine absentmindedly.

You chose him. From the moment you rolled your eyes in that nursery, some invisible thread connected you both, and despite it all, that thread held tight. Out of all possibilities, out of all potential paths, you chose this one—with him. Not out of necessity or convenience, but with deliberate, purposeful love that continues to choose him, minute after minute, hour after hour, day after day.

"How did I get so lucky?"

“Kento,” you slur against his chest, voice gravelly with sleep, “stop thinking so loud so I can sleep. It’s too early.”

It’s almost eleven in the morning. But Nanami can do nothing but chuckle softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead, marveling as your curls tickle his nose before his fingers return to their pilgrimage across your body. Each brush of him against you comes with an unspoken promise—that he will never take this for granted, that he will chose you every morning just as purposefully as you chose him.

"How did I get so lucky?"

Who knows. But Nanami will spend every day making sure he deserves it.

Thanks for reading!