kento would hold you in his arms as you broke down. he'd pat your back, move the strands of hair away from you face, wipe off the snot if you get messy while crying, while listening to you talk about your problems.
if you don't like being held he'd be a few feet away from you just to keep an eye or check on you, refilling the tissues, handling you a water bottle or your comfort plushie or anything you needed at that moment.
and after some time, when you've calmed down he'd hold you in his arms or place you on his lap and sit on a chair or a bed, wiping away the now damped eyelashes.
he'd make you sit on the bed with your back resting on the head board, bring you some dark chocolate and water first to increase your dopamine levels.
he'd bring tea or any drink of your choice to soothe your dried up throat and replenish you from inside.
he's the type of husband who'd hold your hands when your spiraling and ask you to breathe in deep and slow.
he's the type of husband, who loves his partner a lot.
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no, he didn't mean to fall. nanami kento never meant to fall.
for someone like him—his head always buried deep in books, a person who wasn't super popular but did have a close circle of friends, someone who was always well reserved and spoke few words—you were everything he wasn't.
there you were, the sunshine in the crowd. your smile, the prettiest thing he had ever seen, enough to make a person's heart melt. he could also swear that every time under the sun, a halo formed around your head.
the perfect student that everyone loved. how could anyone not adore you?
he tried to convince himself that it never really meant anything when your shoulder accidentally brushed his in the hallway as you walked past. when you smiled at him in the cafeteria. when he was being an idiot one time and somehow bumped into you, and all the books you were carrying in your arms dropped and slid across the floor.
he had panicked, instantly apologising as he immediately crouched down to help you pick them up.
he was probably on his seventh "I'm so terribly sorry—" until you laughed. your eyes shaped into half crescents, dimples showing on your cheeks. and god, his heart nearly stopped at the sight, heat rushed to the tips of his ears and face.
"don't worry," you assured him, taking the books from his hands. your fingers brushed against his in the process, and he froze at the contact. "thank you for helping me..." your eyes trailed down to his name tag. "nanami kento."
and then when you got up again, all nanami could do was stare at your retreating figure, his heartbeat so loud in his ears.
your voice saying his name was something he could never forget.
ꫂ᭪݁ >ᴗ< THE WAY NANAMI KENTO TAKES CARE OF HIS WIFE
pairing ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ nanami kento x reader
summary ˚⊱🪷⊰˚ nanami kento loves quietly but when his wife is pregnant, that love becomes something constant, precise, and something impossible to ignore.
nanami wakes before the sun rises, long before your alarm ever has the chance to ring.
he lies still for a moment, listening to the soft rhythm of your breathing, the quiet hum of the world outside your window, and the faint rustle of sheets as you shift in your sleep, but ever since you became pregnant, he’s become something else entirely.
alert, attuned, almost hyperaware of every small sound you make.
he turns onto his side and watches you for a moment. your face is relaxed, softened by sleep, and the early morning light paints your features in warm gold.
his hand drifts instinctively to your stomach, resting there with gentleness that surprises even him. he traces slow circles over the curve that grows a little more each week, his thumb brushing the same spot he always touches first.
you stir, eyes fluttering open, and he leans down to kiss your stomach before he kisses your forehead. he never explains why he does it in order, but he never misses it.
“you were uncomfortable last night” he murmurs, voice still rough with sleep. “you kept shifting”
you blink up at him, still sleepy. “you were awake?”
“i’m always awake when you’re not resting” he says it like it’s obvious, like it’s simply part of who he is now.
when you sit up, he adjusts your pillow without being asked. when you stand, he steadies you even though you insist you’re fine. when you walk to the bathroom, he listens for every step.
he doesn’t hover. he observes, quietly and constantly.
later that day, while he’s at work, you search his briefcase for a pen and find a small leather notebook tucked into a side pocket.
you open it, expecting work notes. instead, you find neat handwriting documenting your pregnancy with a tenderness that makes your chest tighten.
Week 14 — She prefers citrus in the morning. Week 17 — Back pain increases after sitting too long. Week 19 — She smiles more when the baby kicks. Week 21 — Avoid letting her carry groceries. Week 23 — She cried today. No clear reason. Hold her more.
you close the notebook gently and put it back exactly where you found it. when he comes home, he greets you with a soft kiss on the cheek and a hand that instinctively finds your belly.
you don’t mention the notebook, but you look at him differently and he notices.
in the kitchen one evening, a spoon slips from your hand and clatter to the floor. it’s nothing, just a tiny accident. but nanami is beside you in an instant, hand on your elbow, eyes scanning you like you’ve been hurt.
“are you alright?”
“it was just a spoon”
“you startled”
you laugh softly. “kento.. i’m pregnant, not fragile”
his jaw tightens, not in irritation, but in fear. “to me” he says quietly, “you’re both”
he picks up the spoon, washes it, dries it, and puts it away with movements that are too precise, too controlled.
you touch his arm, and he exhales like he’s been holding his breath.
he takes time off work for every doctors appointment. every single one. he sits beside you in the waiting room, one hand on your knee, the other holding your medical file because he insists on carrying it.
when the nurse calls your name, he stands quickly the chair legs scrape the floor.
inside the exam room, he’s silent. too silent.
his eyes track every movement the doctor makes. when the ultrasound wand touches your belly, he holds your hand with both of his.
the baby’s heartbeat fills the room, steady and strong, and nanami’s breath catches. he doesn’t cry, but his eyes shine, and he blinks too slowly, overwhelmed.
when the doctor leaves, he presses his forehead to your shoulder.
“i didn’t know i could feel this much” he whispers. you stroke his hair, and he stays like that for a long time.
that night, you shift in bed. just a small movement and nanami wakes instantly, hand on your belly, eyes wide and alert.
“what’s wrong?”
“nothing” you mumble, “just turning over”
he watches you for a moment, studying your face, your breathing, the way your hand rests on your stomach. then he pulls you gently into his arms, tucking you against his chest.
“i’ll hold you” he murmurs. “it’s easier for you to sleep that way”
you melt into him, falling asleep quickly.
he doesn’t.
he stays awake for another hour, listening to your breathing, brushing your hair back, whispering soft reassurances you don’t hear.
one late afternoon, your back aches and your feet are swollen, so you sink onto the couch with a sigh. nanami kneels in front of you, not beside you, but directly in front of you.
he takes your feet into his hands. his touch is gentle, almost reverent, as he massages them with slow, practiced movement.
“kento.. you don’t have to do that”
“i know” but he keeps going.
“kento” he finally looks up, and the look in his eyes steals your breath. it’s not simple affection. it’s devotion so deep it feels like gravity.
steady, unyielding, impossible to escape because you don’t want to.
“you’re carrying my child” he says softly, his hands still moving against your feet. “i should be the one kneeling”
your heart stutters.
he presses a kiss to your ankles. then your knee. then your belly. then your lips, all while going slow, tender and grateful.
nanami doesn’t smother you. he doesn’t control you. he simply loves you with a focus so intense it feels like a force of nature.
he memorises your cravings. he wakes up at every sound you make. he touches your belly like it’s the most sacred thing he’s ever known. he looks at you like you’re the center of his universe.
because you are.
to nanami kento, devotion isn’t loud or dramatic.
it’s quiet, steady and absolute. and it grows every single day.
a/n 𑣲𝓳 this one was short! but i’m loving the husband! nanami posts, SO yk i had to make one, BUT i hope y’all enjoy, i’m not really great at making stories like these. so hopefully it’s good. see yall next time 🪐.
✦ easy and quiet mornings with nanami and sick reader.
morning didn’t interrupt, it came gently as the rays of sun spilled over the sheets, filtered through the curtains and hugged them warmly over messy bedsheets.
the air was silent and comfortable, the kind of silence that doesn’t disturb you but comforts you instead and that it’s filled with little somethings that made your chest feel warm and your body sink even more into the sheets such as, or maybe it was the fact that nanami had stayed the morning after a very disastrous night that made your chest flutter with happiness.
you were already awake even if your body hasn’t completely followed up yet. your body remains half-sunk in bed, with the blanket twisted around your waist and head heavy against the pillow, feeling that residue of the flu that does not go away completely, that remains like a low fog in the chest and nose. it’s not bad. but it's not completely fine either. and even then... there is no urgency in that.
barely turn your head, slowly, as if any more movement could break something you don’t want to break.
nanami is still asleep.
and there is something in that image that makes you stop; the way he rests without any tension, the rhythm of his breathing, the way is presence seems to calm you almost immediately upon looking at him, as if even sleeping he held that stability you are still surprised to find in a person. you stay there, looking at him, with no clear reason, not trying to justify it… you just do it. and for a second, you can’t think of anything else.
not like you needed an excuse anyway. nanami was your boyfriend. you could stare at him all that you wanted, but even if you did you would still be wondering how the fuck does this man manage to calm you so easily without any efforts.
until the congestion reminds you again that your body is still there, sick and surviving the flu.
you frown a little and now suddenly aware of how close you’ve come to nanami. inhaling through your mouth you move away slightly, as if that sudden closeness had become a real risk.
nanami had woken up too as you wipe your nose awkwardly whilst blindly looking for a handkerchief on the bedside table. he shifted a little bit on the bed seeking your warmth in the early morning, and when you speak, your voice comes out low and rough with both sickness and sleep.
“don’t get so close.”
there was no venom in your tone, but there was a clear intention to mark distance, even if minimal. you raise a hand between you two as a warning, as if you would draw an invisible line in the hair that marked the limit just like children do.
nanami doesn't respond immediately. he doesn't open his eyes right away either, but his breathing barely changes, enough to make it clear that he is no longer asleep.
“why?”
you snort, like the answer was obvious, finally finding the handkerchief and using it carelessly.
and well, maybe it was obvious.
“because i’m sick,” you say flatly. “you’re going to get sick too if you get too close.”
there was a short pause, not necessarily awkward. just… measured. enough time for nanami to process your words in his barely-awake mind.
nanami opens his eyes.
he looks at you.
and you know, even before he gets the chance to say anything, that he’s not going to listen to you.
“it is not relevant,” the answer finally comes, as calm as it was firm.
“what you mean it’s not relevant?” you turn a little more towards him to get a better look of him, incredulous. “it’s literally a virus.”
“i know.”
“so why—“
but the phrase is left halfway, because nanami is already moving. he shortens the distance with the same effordness he would do any other every day thing.
you try to pull back while dragging the pillow with you in a clumsy gesture.
“baby, seriously. no—“
“good morning.”
and before you could finish opposing, nanami kisses you.
there’s no hurry in the gesture, doubt. it’s a simple, direct kiss, the type of contact that seeks nothing more than to exist, as if it were part of a routine that doesn’t need to be justified. it doesn't last too long before nanami is pulling back again.
you stay very still when you two separate.
looking at him with that mixture of disbelief and something softer that you doesn't bother hiding.
"you’re an idiot."
nanami doesn't seem affected by the insult. he barely settles a little better on the mattress, leaning on his elbow.
"most probably."
you shake your head, as if that confirmed something you already knew, but you don’t pull away any further. in fact, the distance you’d been trying to put between each other slowly crumbles almost without you noticing.
"you’re going to get sick, kento," you insist, although the strength of the warning is no longer the same.
nanami observes you calmly, without rushing to answer, as if he chose each word well even if it doesn't seem like it.
"that’s the least of my worries.”
you narrow your eyes.
"oh, is it now?”
“mhn.”
the pause that follows isn’t long, but is still enough to make it almost too much.
“greeting you like this is far more important.”
you open your mouth, ready to respond with something ironic, something that pulls the moment back into safer and much more manageable territory. but nothing comes out. so you just lay there, looking at him as if you didn't know very well what to do with what you just heard.
“… that’s ridiculous,” you mutter finally, looking away.
but there is no bite in it.
nanami reaches up, just as calm as always, and brushes a loose strand of hair off your forehead. a simple gesture, and one that shouldn’t matter much. you don’t move, don’t pull away either. you just let it happen.
“how are you feeling?”
you exhale, or try to, and cringe at the feeling of your snot making its way out of your nose again, wiping it off with the handkerchief.
“a little itty tinny bit less dead,” you dramatize, because of course you do.
a pause.
“still a biological hazard.”
nanami nods like that’s useful information.
“then i’ll make sure you stay in.”
you let out something between a scoff and a laugh.
“you can’t just keep me here.”
“i can try.”
That gets a real laugh out of you—low, still rough from the flu.
you shift again, this time without trying to keep distance, settling a little closer like there’s no point fighting something you clearly aren’t going to win.
“it’s your day off,” you murmur. “you shouldn’t be taking care of a sick person.”
nanami looks at you.
“i am right where i want to be.”
the silence that follows doesn’t weigh anything down.
you close your eyes for a second, breathing slower, letting that settle without overthinking it. when you open them again, the edge is gone from your expression.
“you’re too much.”
“I know.”
you hesitate—just a second—and then move on your own, leaning in until your forehead rests against nanami’s. it doesn’t feel new anymore, but it’s not automatic either.
it’s still a choice even after so much time, a choice you will be continue to pick.
“if you get sick,” you murmur, “i’m not taking care of you.”
nanami doesn’t pull back.
“you will.”
a small smile appears at the corner of your mouth, tired but real.
“yeah.”
and you stay like that, not doing anything else, not needing to add words or gestures that would complicate something already simple. outside the window that continues to cast the same faint morning light through the curtains, the world keeps moving; noise, deadlines, everything waiting. but in that room, in that still-messy bed, everything slows down.
and for once, even sick, even uncomfortable—
you don’t feel like you have to rush anything.
just stay.
note: heh, first fic posting… kinda nervous… i had SO much fun writing this. kinda self insert bc i do have the flu right now and needed the comfort lwk
all work belongs to @meqoww do not repost, modify, translate or plagiarize in any way on ANY platforms. do not feed my work to ai platforms, respect the author.
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Kento holds you close as he fucks you through the night, his powerful body moving over yours with relentless, driving strokes. You cum again and again, your body shaking and convulsing with the force of your orgasms. Each time, he brings you back down, his hands and mouth worshipping your sensitive skin until you're a boneless, fucked-out mess. Finally, as the first light of dawn starts to peek through the curtains, Kento pulls out of you with a low groan. Your pussy is sore, swollen and dripping with his seed. He scoops you up into his strong arms, cradling you against his broad chest as he carries you towards the bathroom. Kento sets you down gently in the large, claw-foot tub, the warm water and fragrant oils instantly soothing your abused muscles. He turns the faucet off and settles in behind you, his large frame enveloping yours as he pulls you back against his strong chest. His hands roam your body, lathering your skin with the rich, scented soap. Kento takes his time, massaging the tension from your muscles, his touch tender and almost reverent. He washes every inch of you, from your neck down to your toes, his fingers gliding across your skin with precision. When he reaches your hair, Kento takes special care, his fingers gently working the shampoo through the silky strands. He massages your scalp, his touch soothing and relaxing, and you can't help but melt further into his embrace. As he rinses the soap from your hair and skin, Kento leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. His voice is low and soft, filled with a warmth and affection that makes your heart flutter. "You were so good for me, baby. So perfect-" he murmurs, his hands continuing to stroke your slick, wet skin. "I'm so proud of you, and I know you must be sore and tired. Let me take care of you..". Kento's arms wrap around you, holding you close as the warm water and oils soothe your aching body. As he places kisses to your temple, you can feel his love and devotion in every touch, every word, and you know that you are truly lucky to have a husband like him.
Omg guys, how'd I do?
Im ovulating rn and my boyfriend had to go see his parents for their anniversary, I got the urge to write this and so I did.🤩
"older! nanami--" WHY CAN'T I BE THE SENIOR ONE FOR ONCE UGH
ahjbsal imagine being like his upperclassman during inventory arc, silly school boy crush or smth
or maybe after being an unintentional father figure to many, he also needs advice sometimes on his struggles in life and he gets it from his senior who he admires and respects very much
kento loves taking his sweet girlfriend on shopping sprees.
he loves embracing your impulsive need to buy stuff, whether it'd be an overpriced plush keychain you saw on an actress's purse, or another scented candle that you just love the smell off. you have enough of candles at home but hey what's wrong with just another one right?
he loves listening to you, when you ramble about a certain piece of clothing you wish you had, or a new figurine you saw online.
he admires how your eyes lit up when you talk about this new hobby you wanted to just try out, or how your cheeks flush when you talk hours on end switching from one topic to another.
he's the type of gentlemen who waits outside the trial room.
the tie loosened around his neck as he leans on one of the walls of the trial room waiting for you, one arm holding his folded suit and in his pockets, the other using the phone, messaging last minute details to his colleagues.
he had decided to take you out shopping after his work asking you to be ready, and that he'll pick you up.
his head lifts up from his phone as he hears the curtains open, you step outside revealing your outfit.
one thing about kento is that he is blunt, he doesn't hesitate to give his opinions on the fabric you're wearing or so.
"i like the lace, it's delicate on your skin"
when you twirl for him revealing the back side of the dress, he always asks you if you're comfortable with the outfit your wearing,
even if you guys are leaving for a date night and he absolutely loves how the dress looks good on you, he always double checks with you if you're comfy.
"it seems like it has a wire underneath your chest, you sure you'd be ok? i can look for something similar that doesn't. "
he knows you like the back of his hand,
he's byhearted the way you'll reply to his concern, that you'll be fine or that beauty is pain.
he asks you because he's noticed how distressed you look when the clasp of a dress hurts, or how the bras are uncomfortable, or how those yoga pants he loves checking you out on, feel like skin but in an awkward way.
he'd rather see you naked or in one of his oversized t-shirts with nothing underneath, than in some expensive fancy lingerie.
this man isn't shy at all, he's gone through his fare share of partners, so he doesn't feel shy or unbothered while accompanying you through clothing aisles.
he stands stoic, arms in pocket patiently waiting and listening as you check out stuff, flipping through hangers, talking about this top you saw online.
he NEVER, and i mean EVER allows you to pay for anything.
grocery shopping, his hand moves faster than yours as he hands his card to the cashier.
you were craving takeout and were deciding to order, he's picked up your order from your favourite restaurant and is heading back home.
you whine, punching his arm.
"i have my own money too you know; i can pay for stuff."
"i know my darling, but let me just pay this last time and you can pay next time."
"you can buy us some ice cream, after we're done shopping."
he lies. he doesn't let you do that.
and he intends on keeping that way.
yes he supports you, he loves that you work and earn money for yourself, but he also loves it when you spend his money.
what can he do after all; in the end he's just a man in love ♡
