Masterlist
s - smut, sg - suggestive, f - fluff, a - angst
Nanami Kento
#1 - Nanami's leaving for a week, but you need a few more minutes with him. (S)
#2 - Your husband surprises you after you've had a boring work dinner. (S)

roma★
Cosmic Funnies
RMH
trying on a metaphor

oozey mess
Not today Justin
cherry valley forever

Kiana Khansmith
art blog(derogatory)
$LAYYYTER

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣

titsay

Love Begins
No title available
styofa doing anything

No title available
noise dept.

Andulka
Misplaced Lens Cap
AnasAbdin

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Indonesia

seen from France

seen from Malaysia

seen from Türkiye

seen from United Kingdom

seen from India
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from Bangladesh

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@mrs-nanami
Masterlist
s - smut, sg - suggestive, f - fluff, a - angst
Nanami Kento
#1 - Nanami's leaving for a week, but you need a few more minutes with him. (S)
#2 - Your husband surprises you after you've had a boring work dinner. (S)
nanami likes this polaroid of u
Husband Nanami eating you out
The oven timer beeped right as the front door clicked open. You wiped flour-dusted hands on your apron, already moving toward the hallway before the beep had fully died out.
"Hey, handsome," you called, rounding the corner just as Nanami stepped inside. His tie was slightly loosened, his sleeves rolled to the elbows—small signs of a long day finally unwinding. He blinked at you, then at the faint scent of vanilla wafting from the kitchen, and something in his expression softened.
"Hello, my love," Nanami replied, his voice low and warm like the oven you'd just left. His briefcase hit the floor with a soft thud as he reached for you, one broad hand settling at the small of your back. You could feel the heat of his palm through the thin fabric of your apron.
He didn’t say anything else, just pressed his nose against your temple and inhaled deeply, his breath hot against your skin. You laughed, tilting your head to give him more room. “Long day?”
"Mhm," he murmured, lips grazing your jawline. His other hand came up to cradle your face, thumb brushing absently over the smear of flour you’d missed near your ear. You could feel the tension in his shoulders, the way his body leaned into yours like he was borrowing your warmth. "You baked."
You hummed, sliding your fingers under his loosened tie to tease the first button of his shirt.
"Wanted to make something sweet for you." His exhale was sharp when your knuckles brushed the hollow of his throat. The oven beeped again, an insistent reminder—but neither of you moved.
Nanami’s grip tightened at your waist, pressing you closer until the starched fabric of his shirt rumpled against your apron. His mouth found the curve of your neck, open and wet, and you gasped when his teeth scraped lightly over your pulse. "Kento—the cookies—"
blood, sweat and lace
pairing: choso x vampire!reader
genre: angst, suggestive ( 18+ ) » 3.2k words
at a coworker’s gothic-themed birthday party, your hunger as a new vampire is spiralling out of control. luckily, choso kamo is there to rescue you with a slow dance and a black lace handkerchief
contains: mentions of blood, biting, heated make out session, slow burn | choso is half-human, half cursed spirit but reader doesn’t know it | cw: reader struggles with accepting her new identity
written for @yoonsucks event ‘interlaced’ and lowkey based off a bigger project. hope you enjoy reading!
choso art: @/joe44ui on x
minors dni, 18+
Fiancé!Nanami x Fiancée!Reader
established relationship, smut with slight plot lol. barely proofread.
for @yoonsucks event~
Notes: lace stockings, kissing, oral f receiving, semi-public (people are downstairs), reader had one drink but isn't tipsy or drunk, Kento's a thighs lover (fight me)
꒰ boyfriend!nanami ꒱ who expresses love through actions more than words
Walking you home, remembering little things you like, quietly taking care of you, it’s how he says I love you
꒰ boyfriend!nanami ꒱ who always makes sure you’re comfortable
Adjusting your coat, offering you his hand, making sure you ate properly, he notices everything
𝜗𝜚 sleepy sundays with Nanami (fluff)
a/n: something little while I work on my summer series <3
more like this
ೃ࿔*:・
Rain patters the window loosely. Sunday quietly arrived hours ago, and now it’s seeping through into your bedroom. Maybe you should be preparing for the working week; instead, you’re still bundled up in bed with your husband.
You shift just a little, feet and legs tangling with Nanami’s under the sheets as he pulls you closer- your back pressed to his front, curled up together like you were always meant to end up this way. Distantly, you can smell the rain landing on the windowsill outside.
“Mmfh.” You sigh into the pillows, pressing your cheek into the awaiting softness while your husband gently moves your hair aside to press a soft kiss to your nape.
“Good morning, my love.” He says quietly. The nickname has become second nature to you both now, but it still carries the significance it did the first time he spoke it while passing you the salt on a date and you both froze.
You love that memory, it reminds you of the way his face had cracked into a nervous grin and you’d smiled back just as brightly, brushing your hand against his while you giggled at his expression. Now, if you ever tease him about it, Nanami will just shrug beneath his shirt and mutter something about how ‘it felt right’.
But you still notice the blush on his face when he turns away.
“Morning, Ken.” You mumble back, letting your fingers lace casually with his across your stomach. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did, thank you.” He replies.
God, you think, it’s all so domestic it almost scares you. It scares Nanami too, having a constant in his life that isn’t mundane or arduous. It’s just you, and he loves you so much sometimes he can’t bring himself to express it with words.
It’s a feeling that sweeps over him in moments like this, in tiny snapshots of married life. Whether it’s you tutting at him when he forgets to sieve the flour before adding it to the cake batter or him tutting at you when you leave your heels strewn across the corridor, Nanami is prone to a sickeningly sweet gush of emotion.
What Nanami feels for you is everything, happiness and reverence and desire and nostalgia and pure, unadulterated joy all mixed up into one big ball within that he can only describe as love.
Which is exactly what he whispered to you on your wedding day, stood at the altar as he slipped the ring onto your finger through the sheen of tears he didn’t bother denying to anybody who teased him about it at the reception afterwards.
It’s exactly what he’s whispering now, as he hugs your warmth closer underneath the puffy duvet. You giggle and squirm when his breath fans across your ear, his lips curving upwards into a smile when the sound drifts to his ears.
“Ken, that tickles.” You laugh quietly, the melodic tinkling of your voice the most gorgeous thing he’s ever heard.
“Shh.” He laughs back, so unlike the stoic salaryman-turned-sorcerer everybody expects from him, “let me have my fun.”
You do, you lie there and melt into your husband and his words while you gaze out into the morning.
Nanami listens to the rain too, and reminisces. He thinks fondly about ducking into nearby bakeries to wait out drizzle on dates, he thinks about the time you both got soaked to the bone during monsoon season in Malaysia.
Nanami loves that memory, he adores and cherishes it close to his heart. The way you'd looked so shocked when the clouds split open above you, hearty waterfalls of water spattering across your clothes and wetting you head to toe. You'd laughed at his hair, at the way it stuck to his forehead, the sea crashing on peacefully behind you while the sand ruffled beneath your bare feet. Bare because Nanami was carrying your sandals.
Raindrops trickle across the glass, and you hazily watch them through half-opened eyes as they pool together and splash. The water flows smoothly, calmingly, and reminds you of the vase of flowers you need to mist.
“Ken.” You murmur, voice muffled by the duvet tugged up to your nose, “I need to water the flowers in the kitchen or they’ll wilt.”
His arms hold tighter and he groans defeatedly into your shoulder. “I’ll buy you a new bouquet later, darling.”
“But I feel bad for them.” You say, only half meaning the empathy over your flowers, but Nanami is quickly swept over again by yet another wave of bubbling affection.
“I love you.” He says against your skin, his fingers tracing the metal of your wedding ring. You smile sleepily, the sound of the rain and your husband’s gentle touch lulling you back to sleep.
“Mmm, I love you too.” You breathe softly, “the flowers can wait.”
Nanami smiles. “Yes, they can.”
ೃ࿔*:・
𝓱usband!kento who presses a quick kiss to your temple every morning before leaving for work. it’s an unspoken habit, one he never forgets no matter how early he has to leave. if you stir awake while he’s pulling away from you, he’ll murmur a soft “go back to sleep, love” before slipping out the door.
𝓱usband!kento who speaks to you calmly even on his worst days!!! he could never bring himself to raise his voice at you no matter how tired or frustrated he was :( he absolutely refuses to let you become the outlet for his anger.
𝓱usband!kento who only shows his sense of humor around you. his dry, borderline terrible dad jokes that often make you snort are reserved solely for your ears. and when you tease him about how funny he actually is, he’ll only raise an eyebrow before saying, “i’ve got a reputation to maintain. can’t have others knowing i’m actually this amusing.”
𝓱usband!kento who notices when something’s wrong before you mention it. his gaze softening slightly before asking, “do you want to talk about it?” and if you don’t, he doesn’t push— instead he’ll stay patient until you’re ready to open up about whatever’s been bothering you.
𝓱usband!kento who listens to you ramble about anything and everything after a long day. he’ll loosen his tie, roll up his sleeves, and give you his full attention by keeping his eyes on you; nodding along to every word while actively hearing you talk about your day, your coworkers, or even the random documentary you watched the other time. kento loves hearing you speak even when you think you’re talking too much.
༺♡༻ thinking ab nanami’s kisses…
your husband’s appearance is very contradicting.
he's huge; broad shoulders, husky build, and standing at a towering 6'0.
and yet, he's so, so gentle.
more specifically, his kisses.
because he doesn't squeeze you or bite your lips like he's trying to devour your face.
no, nanami kisses you sweetly. like you're as delicate as spun glass.
you needed his kisses. craved them, even.
you didn't even care that he was a workaholic. didn't get upset when he had to leave you early in the mornings or when he returned so late at night that you were already damn near asleep. it didn't bother you, as long as he followed your one rule:
give you a kiss before he leaves and when he got back.
sure, it sounded a bit silly. some of your friends even called you addicted when you told them about it. but you didn't care. it was routine, and you planned on it staying that way.
so when morning came again and the first rays of light peeking through your bedroom window got paired with the familiar rustling of kento trying to get dressed without causing a disturbance, you don't get mad.
you just roll over and lay there, patient. waiting. you sit up groggily, a lazy hand rubbing the sleep from your eyes.
meanwhile nanami is busy tying his tie, back turned to you just enough to show off the carefully sculpted muscles of his back without even trying. your gaze wandered over him appreciatively.
it didn't take long for him to realize you'd woken up. it was hard not to notice with you literally staring holes into the back of his head. he glances over his shoulder, expression softening instantly at the sight of your sleepy face.
"oh, hello..." he murmurs, as if anything louder would break the peace that settled at this early hour. he finishes the final knot before taking a seat beside you. you curl into his side instantly, and he hums approvingly.
his hand finds your waist, thumb brushing soothing circles as he says quietly, "i didn't mean to wake you, love."
but you just shake your head, completely content. you nuzzle into his chest, mumbling into him. "mm...'s okay."
you're quiet for a bit, fingers playing with the soft fabric of his shirt. not nervous, just lazy fidgting. then, you blink up at him expectantly, asking the all-too-familiar question. "...kiss?"
a tiny smile tugs at his lips. he'd heard the question a thousand times already, and he was waiting for it. he nodded without thinking, mumbling a soft "of course." before leaning in.
his free hand finds your chin, gently tilting your head up to his. the distance closes, lips pressing to his.
you can faintly taste the coffee on his lips, dark, bitter and honestly not as horrible as expected. and just when you start to relax into him, a bird chirps loudly outside the window.
you jump back, startled. his head tilts at you, but when he sees your wide eyes he can't help the soft laugh that leaves his lips.
"it's just a bird, sweetheart." he teases, gently ruffling your messy bedhead hair before standing up to slip on his shoes.
your lips twist into a pout. "whatever." you grumble, pretending not to be as embarrassed as you were.
but you didn't let him get his foot near the second shoe before you were climbing out of bed, arms wrapping around his neck. "i need another, ken...that one didn't count." you murmur, voice soft and thick with sleep.
his brows furrow, conflicted. "why, not? was that one not enough?" he asks, though he doesn't sound upset. just genuinely curious.
you shake your head. "we got interrupted, so it didn't count." you mumble.
nanami glances between you and the clock on his watch, hesitant. he knows he should get going. but you're hard to deny like this. you’re half asleep, drool dried on your cheek, and in nothing but his shirt and some shorts. you look absolutely adorable.
he sighs.
"fine." he caves, unable to fight the urge. his large hands find your waist, pulling you in closer. "but this is the last one, okay? no more." he explains.
you nod, feeling like you'd won the lottery.
he smiles at your eagerness, and finally leans to capture you in another kiss.
your lips slot against his, weaving together like they're meant to be there. a soft press first, then your lips start to move.
you know he has to leave soon, but you can't bring yourself to care. he feels so good, and you just feel all warm and fuzzy inside. and when one of his hands slide into your hair to tilt your head and deepen the kiss, you melt. your eyes flutter shut, knees going weak.
he hums against your lips, his own gaze growing half-lidded. he granted you access when your tongue slipped in his mouth, dancing with yours in a slow, passionate dance.
when you moan into his mouth and he feels his dress pants start to tighten a bit, he knows he should stop. reluctantly, he speaks.
"sweetheart..." he calls softly, but doesn't pull away yet.
"mm...?" you hum, clearly not done yet.
he's not either. but, he knows this is wrong. "i really need to leave now. i'll be late." he manages to murmur. but every word is muffled between another tender yet messy kiss.
but you just grumble against his lips, pulling him closer as you mumble under your breath. "mm...d'nt care."
it’s safe to say that nanami was definitely late for work that day.
a/n: okay this is really short but i wanted to write for him cause he’s just so like ughhhh (also more fluff cause ive just been spamming smut back to back)
Private collection
Your sweet husband nanami buys you lacy nightgowns and has you put a fashion show on for him… it’s more a treat for him than you.
Husband!Nanami x wife!reader. Cw: Established Relationship, Suggestive, Fluff, Domestic, Lace & Nightgowns, Intimacy, Kissing
ᛝ This is apart of @yoonsucks 3k interlace event!! I hope you enjoy :3
It started with a single box from a boutique Nanami usually walked past without a second glance. Then came another. And another.
Nanami Kento was a man of precision and practicality, but he had developed a very specific, very expensive hobby: seeing you draped in the finest silk and lace money could buy. He claimed it was about "comfort" and "quality of sleep," but the way his gaze lingered on the hem of a chemise told a different story.
Tonight, the bed was covered in tissue paper and delicate fabrics.
"Kento, there are at least five here," you laughed, picking up a floor-length sheer gown with intricate floral embroidery. "When am I supposed to wear all of these?"
"Ideally? Every night," he replied smoothly, loosening his tie as he leaned against the doorframe. His eyes were dark, tracking the way the moonlight caught the shimmer of the fabric in your hands. "But I haven't seen them on you yet. Consider it a quality control check. A private showing, if you will."
You rolled your eyes but couldn't hide the blush creeping up your neck. You ducked into the bathroom, emerging minutes later in the first piece, a baby pink satin slip with a neckline held together by nothing but thin silk ribbons.
Nanami didn't say a word. He simply sat in the armchair by the window, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, looking every bit the discerning critic. He gestured for you to turn.
"The color suits you," he noted, his voice a low vibration. "But the lace at the hip... it’s a bit distracting. Next."
The "fashion show" continued with a rhythm that felt more like a slow burn than a parade.
The second gown is a white, Victorian-inspired nightgown with puffed sleeves and enough lace to be a wedding dress. He called it "innocent," though his smirk suggested he enjoyed the irony.
The third is a black, knee-length gown with a slit that traveled dangerously high. Nanami plays with the ends of the fabric and drags his other hand up your thigh. He hums and lightly taps your butt signaling you to try on the next one.
By the time you reached the final box, the air in the bedroom felt heavy. You stepped out wearing a pale blue piece, completely backless and trimmed with lace that rubbed against your skin.
Nanami stood up. The "critic" persona vanished, replaced by the man who had spent the last hour meticulously memorizing every inch of skin those gowns failed to cover.
"This one," he murmured, crossing the room until he was standing directly in your space. He didn't touch you yet, but the heat radiating from him was enough. "This is the winner."
"Oh? And what does the winner get?" you teasingly giggle, reaching up to toy with the collar of his dress shirt.
"My undivided attention," he whispered.
He finally reached out, his large, calloused hands contrasting beautifully with the delicate lace at your waist. He pulled you in flush against him, his lips finding the sensitive pulse point just below your ear.
"You look breathtaking," he breathed against your skin, a rare crack in his stoic composure. "I think I’ve spent my money very wisely."
He captured your lips in a kiss that was slow, deep, and tasted of lingering desire. It was the kind of kiss that promised the nightgowns wouldn't stay on for very long. As his hands wandered over the expensive silk he’d gifted you, you realized that while he loved the fashion show, he loved the finale where the clothes ended up on the floor even more.
“Kento,” you whispered between kisses.
“Hush,” he groaned, his thumb tracing the line of the lace. “I’m still evaluating the texture.”
⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ husband!nanami and the attractive things he does
a/n: trying to bless everyone by sharing another husband!nanami post. i've got plenty more ideas of little things he does, so i'm hoping to make some more of these throughout the week (˶˃𐃷˂˶)
wc: 1.0k
Husband!Nanami who tells you before going out for your date night that those heels will start to hurt after walking for a while, but you claim they match your outfit perfectly and finding another pair would ruin the vibe you're going for, so he doesn't press the issue.
Once you take them off while walking back home, he doesn't complain, he doesn't dare tell you I told you so. Quite the contrary, he’ll willingly hoist you up in his arms, bridal style, while carrying the heels in his hand. No complaints, no mumbled fusses, because all in all, he gets to hold the woman he admires most in this world while using your heels as the excuse.
Husband!Nanami who’ll slightly lean over the table to maintain his conversation with you, elbows steadily planted on the wood, and once you lean in as well, he’ll drag your chair closer to his.
It’s ridiculously smooth, in a way mixed with confidence that hasn't been seen before. You’re there one moment, and the next, your thigh is touching his, and a strong-smelling cologne is wafting up into your nostrils.
With his palm pressed against the material of your seat, or by hooking his ankle around one leg of the chair, he easily drags it closer. No effort, no outspoken words, just the mere act of actively listening and making space for you in his life.
Husband!Nanami who took a photo of you on your first date together. Hair blowing in the wind, the sun setting behind you, adding a golden hue to the picture even through the black and white filter, your smile impossibly wide, eyes creasing, and dimples deepening.
It follows him everywhere, since he shoved it into his wallet the day after he took it, and never bothered taking it back out again. He bought two photo frames a few weeks later, and neatly placed the duplicates in them, then continued to let one photo frame rest on his nightstand and the other on his desk at work. The last duplicate is taped against the sun visor in his car, often keeping it down so he can see you while driving.
He claims it’s only when he misses you and hasn't seen you properly in a while because life gets busy, but he knows he's a liar, since the sun visor is always down. He’s never snapped it shut since hanging up the photo many years ago.
Husband!Nanami who tells you to bring a coat with you, is aware you won't be listening to his advice any time soon. Again, no I told you so’s when you're visibly shivering due to the cold. Instead, he's taking off his coat and hanging it over your shoulders while not uttering a single word.
He’ll catch the soft look you send him, and that’s enough in his eyes.
Husband!Nanami who, even when he's exhausted from working all week and day, still cooks dinner for you when he gets home. He doesn't ask you to do it, actually preferring to either do it himself or do it together.
Soft music playing in the background, all the main lights turned off, dimmed lights turned on, which adds a cosy ambience. The kitchen window is pushed open, and suits and other proper clothes are changed for comfortable, looser ones.
Kisses are being shared here and there, light touches are being pressed to your waist and hips each time he walks past you. Handing ingredients over when you need them, easily taking over with no complaints when you're starting another part of the recipe.
Husband!Nanami who’s come to master navigating you through traffic without losing you, since you're rather fond of wandering off without uttering a single word. Walking behind you, only slightly, so he can wrap one arm around your waist to hold you close, and the other holding onto your hand as he steers you through overly crowded areas.
Husband!Nanami who never dares to look away from you, terribly afraid of missing a single thing. A missed smile, the twinkle in your eyes, a strand of hair falling in your face, or even the simplest detail of an exaggerated story.
He’ll keep his eyes set on yours, unblinking, lips turning upwards in the barest hint of a smile, the bags under his eyes suddenly seeming so small compared to usual. The lines on his face soften, making him look younger than he actually is.
Husband!Nanami who you claim needs to relax now and then, yet you can't help but find him awfully handsome— that quiet, oftentimes bordering on stoic, accumulated energy.
You’ll be panicking over something mundane, and he’ll be standing right next to you, a hand on your lower back or resting on the nape of your neck, squeezing, not once letting his composure drop. Shoulders straightened obscenely, head held high, not once thinking of slouching, and the calmness will ease into your veins.
That’s how easy it always goes with him. He doesn't need to communicate through words with you, since his mere presence looming over you is more than enough. As easy as breathing, you crave that stability like air.
Husband!Nanami who loops his arms around your waist from behind whenever you're doing anything that involves you bending over the tiniest bit.
You’re bent over against the kitchen counter, elbows planted on the island, nursing through a book filled with recipes your mother shared with you— within a second, he's pressed behind you. Firm front against your back, blond hair nuzzling the side of your face whilst he presses kisses to your shoulder and neck.
Reaching up to get something from the highest cabinet? He’s already behind you, unnecessarily adding himself into your personal space, and although he does help, he enjoys the situation greatly. Every time, over and over again.
Bending over to open the freezer, bending over to pick up a book, bending over to—
It’s second nature to him, he's afraid. Being able to help his wife whilst holding onto you in a lovely yet intimate way is a win for him.
Husband!Nanami who always knows what you need before you can come up with a single thought yourself. You've had a bad day, and aren't sure if you want to go to bed or just relax on the couch while watching a film. Meanwhile, he's making both options possible by unnecessarily going out of his way to make you feel better.
⸝⸝ ⟡
masterlist
⋆˚✿˖° Nanami fears going shopping with you
It’s not that you spent too much, or that you were too controlling of the list, or that you didn’t help.
For some reason, you were so touchy. Not that Nanami would ever complain about such affection, no. He loved it, truly. However, it felt as if you had been possessed by a succubus whenever you both stepped foot into the food shop.
Your hands would trail everywhere, along his waist, fingers delicately wrapping around his bicep and squeezing every few seconds. In empty isles, his ass would be slapped until he was sure you’d left a mark, him silently ticking off items as you tried to act nonchalant playing with his belt loops.
What was a girlfriend meant to do, though, watching the handsomest man ever walk around with reading glasses perched low on his nose? Biceps flexing as he pushed the cart in front of him, brows furrowed in concentration as he checked over the list again and again. Were you really expected to keep your hands off?
Unfortunately for Kento, you couldn’t. Hell, he almost got a boner halfway through the shop when you decided to palm his bulge firmly in an empty isle. Nanami’s head tipped down with a groan, one hand gently taking ahold of your wrist and trying to pull it away.
“D-Darling, I appreciate the affection but maybe we could save it for somewhere more… private?”
You pout up at him, dropping your hand with a huff. “Fine, I’ll wait.”
Until the car.
Good thing Nanami parked in the back corner of the car park otherwise you were sure the whole town would have seen the vigorous rocking of the car as you pushed Nanami into the back seat, mounting him like some wild animal in heat.
You sunk down onto his thick cock quickly, head tipping back and moaning whoreishly. Nanami kissed up your breasts, quickly attaching his lips to yours as he guided you up and down on his cock, the wet phap phap sound filling the silence of the car. Your fingers entangled into his blonde locks, messing up the neatened style.
Heat bloomed in your lower belly all too quickly, movements faltering as his grip tightened, moving you himself as your legs practically gave up on you.
You came at the same time, one hand gripping the back seat headrest as thick ropes of semen shot up into your womb, leaving you feeling bloated and full as you pulled off with a sheen of sweat covering your forehead.
If this was what happened after every shopping trip, then Nanami couldn’t find a reason to complain.
Forgive me (18+) MDNI
│Nanami x Female Reader
Nanami likes twisting your panties around his palm the same way- WHO SAID THAT????
Headcanons that I think Nanami will have with you!
The rainy evening in Tokyo had finally slowed to a persistent drizzle, the kind that made the city lights blur into soft, glowing smudges against the pavement. He stepped through the front door, the familiar scent of home—sandalwood and something warm, like toasted bread—instantly loosening the tight knot of tension in his shoulders.
He moved with his usual quiet precision, hanging his beige trench coat and methodically loosening his spotted tie. The day had been long, filled with the "nonsense" of paperwork and the draining energy of minor curses, but the sight of you curled up on the sofa with a book made the fatigue feel distant.
A quiet welcome
The Greeting: He doesn't say much at first, simply walking over to press a lingering, cool-nosed kiss to your forehead.
The Shift: You notice the way his sharp gaze softens when he looks at you, the "salaryman" persona melting away to reveal the man who just wants to be home.
The Ritual: He allows you to guide him to the kitchen, where a warm cup of tea is already waiting. He treasures these small, domestic anchors.
Domestic Bliss
Nanami isn't a man of grand, sweeping gestures; his love is found in the meticulous details. It’s in the way he makes sure your favorite bakery treats are on the counter before you wake up, or how he’ll quietly take the book from your lap when you fall asleep, marking your page before tucking you in.
"You're late," you tease softly, leaning against the counter as he sips his tea.
He glances at the clock—6:05 PM. A small, rare smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Five minutes of overtime is still five minutes too many. I apologize."
He reaches out, his large hand finding yours and squeezing gently. In this quiet apartment, far from the chaos of jujutsu high and corporate offices, he isn't a Grade 1 sorcerer or a former stockbroker. He is simply yours.
Evening Routine
1. Downtime: He enjoys "boring" activities with you, like finishing a difficult puzzle or playing low-stakes video games to unwind.
2. Affection: Nanami is surprisingly tactile in private. He loves resting his head in your lap, letting you run your fingers through his hair while he closes his eyes.
3. Protection: Even on his day off, he’s observant, making sure you’re comfortable and well-fed, treating your happiness as his most important "assignment".
As the night deepens, he leads you toward the bedroom, his arm draped securely around your waist. "Let's rest," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that vibrates against your temple. "Tomorrow is a day off. No work, no curses. Just us."
art by thatsallitchief
⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ husband!nanami and early mornings
a/n: this is my first time writing for jjk, aahh !!! i was originally going to go for choso since he's my favourite but there's something about husband!nanami that rubs me in all the right ways. i love him so much ohmygosh °ʚ(*´ᵕ`*)ɞ° wc: 1.2k
Husband!Nanami had a quick, efficient morning routine before settling into married life. Never exactly one’s stereotypical bachelor, but the detached environment that used to linger around his apartment before meeting you did, kind of, fit into the category.
Sterile white walls, books stapled upon one another, often were used as a nightstand— aesthetically pleasing to some, a way to personalise the space. Still, in reality, he never truly got around to buying an actual bookshelf back then.
Throwing himself into work had always been good for him, considering he only had himself to look after. He wouldn't let his alarm clock go to snooze, wouldn't allow himself to linger in bed, maybe because the moment he turned, the other side would be ice cold, although he did always dismiss this thought, convincing himself it was only to boost his productivity.
Husband!Nanami who still goes about his mornings as quietly as possible even while being a married man. Not because he doesn't want you around in the mornings, but because he thinks you deserve all the rest you can get.
He’ll already be sitting up in bed, his alarm clock having rang only once, the sunlight filtering through the windows. Turning, and then he’ll see you wriggle beneath the duvets.
Something in his system slows down. Why is he in such a rush, anyway, he seems to think now.
It doesn't matter if he's later than usual that morning, if the rest of his routine doesn't add up to the specific hours and numbers he's been used to for most of his life— all he’ll do is take a deep breath, lie back down, and relax into the pillow. Blond hair sleep-ruffled and beautifully messy, spreading around and over parts of his face like the tiniest of halos.
Husband!Nanami who loves the feeling of your burning skin against his already cooled down fingers. His lean fingers will reach out to your waist, twitchy and slightly hesitant—even after all this time—the flesh burning and smooth beneath his feather-light touches.
He’ll try his best not to wake you, despite being more than aware you have an alarm set in roughly ten minutes from now. He never wins in this marriage, because you want to be awake while he gets ready for work, and he can try as much as he wants by saying, ‘honey, you need your sleep,’ because the next day your alarm will be set nonetheless.
Husband!Nanami who knows your body as if he walks in it himself every day. Your back is arched most unusually, and certainly, it makes it easier for you to wedge your leg in between his muscled thighs.
No words, no whispers, any sort of doubt washes away like a mere wave. He’s not sure why it was there to begin with, but being in a happy marriage and feeling fulfilled all the time still feels like a dream for him.
His palm moves up to your soft belly, firm and reassuring, dragging you backwards onto the mattress, his front pressed against your back.
So, occasionally, he’ll treat himself to ten extra minutes in bed. It’s the best ten minutes of his day, and it sure as hell is a good morning.
When he finally manages to gather his strength to get ready for the day, he’ll press one last kiss to your shoulder, a dozen more to the back of your neck, and you’ll let him. Yet again, you’re so used to the gesture that your head is already tilted at another specific angle, awaiting his sweet lips.
Husband!Nanami who tries his hardest not to let out an embarrassing squeal once he walks into the kitchen—showered, blond hair slicked back, suit proper and pristine, teeth brushed—because you packed him a bento, with freshly baked bread next to the container.
His habit of going to the local bakery a few streets down has certainly rubbed off on you. After work, he’ll sometimes want to treat himself, but since the hours often tire him out, you go for him instead.
He tells you you don't have to, and you tell him that doing sweet things for him comes so naturally to you, that you don't even second-guess it anymore.
Imagine the surprised look on his face the first time you did this, more than eight years ago, a couple of months after you started dating. A bunch of heartfelt love confessions followed, they oozed out of him as if it was as easy as breathing, meanwhile, he held you adoringly while the tips of your ears burnt.
Husband!Nanami who tells you to go inside and get back into bed, but secretly loves it when you wait for him to leave. Seeing the door close behind you once you think he can't see the house anymore makes all sorts of fuzzy feelings explode in his abdomen.
You’ll lean against the front door, the chilly air of dawn wrapping around you like a coat itself, while you're dressed in nothing but the flimsy pair of pyjamas he bought you. Arms tentatively wrapping around your middle, eyes briefly falling shut in peace once you feel his lips graze your forehead.
“I’ll see you in the evening, honey,” he’ll whisper, voice undeniably gentle—that alone can do you in—thumb sliding along your rose-tinted cheeks.
It might've been a déjà vu, it could even be a flash of your foreseeable future together, or perhaps there's just some truth wrapped up in this point in time. Isn't there always? All you can think of is that staying in this very moment together wouldn't be so bad.
Husband!Nanami who can't find it in himself to fully leave without saying—
“I love you.”
Even when he's already made it to the gate of your front path, his sleek black dress shoes clicking on the classic tiles beneath him, he’ll look back. A knowing twinkle visible in his eyes, mixed with something more profound, but you can't figure out what it portrays exactly.
He says it’s because he wants you to know. Still surprisingly timid, even after roughly a decade of being together, like he isn't sure you believe him.
You do, though. And the mornings, they differ each time.
“I love you, silly girl,” when you're exceptionally chipper.
“I love you, baby. Lock the door behind you,” when he's feeling the remnants of sleep.
“I love you, honey,” being his usual one.
He mixes that one up, too. He’ll throw in a darling or sweetheart, and you’ll say it back. Louder, with more emotion. Because he might want you to know he loves you, but you would love for him to know that he's the sun you orbit around.
Husband!Nanami who treasures your mornings together very much. The slight tilt to his lips when he walks to the metro, the love-sick look remaining on his face until he walks into the office, the way he gets his work done faster than usual. It gives him away.
Husband!Nanami who never fails to make your domestic morning routines and habits feel like the first twelve seconds of Landslide by Fleetwood Mac.
Quiet, intimate, too much introspection to not make someone go clinically insane, and a calm awakening for even more bliss of married life yet to come.
Husband!Nanami who can see himself doing this for another ten years. Twenty, thirty, he’ll take it all and cherish each moment like it might be his last. In reality, there isn't a single day when he wouldn't want to wake up next to you, for it has become his greatest blessing, after all.
Oh, how he has come to love the early mornings and the feeling of letting life slow down, even if it’s only for ten minutes.
p.s: i have to confess that i did only write this because i woke up at three in the morning, put on my headphones and then the intro of landslide started playing. yes, i thought of nanami, replayed it a bunch of times (i almost got sick of it), and came up with this... clearly, he's always on my mind
papa!kento baking brownies for yuji’s school bake sale :)
art credit: getoad on twitter jjk.mlist
content: pure fluff. no curses au. husband!nanami x wife reader
the kitchen smelled like warm chocolate and home, a scent that was currently being fought over by the sound of shifting parchment paper and nanami’s soft, exasperated sigh. he was standing at the kitchen counter, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his glasses sliding slightly down his nose as he meticulously leveled off a cup of flour. he took brownie-making for yuji’s school bake sale with the same quiet intensity he took everything else in life, which was exactly why it was so funny to watch him try to manage a chaotic five-year-old.
"kento, you’re going to overmix the batter if you keep staring at it like that," you teased, leaning against the counter with a spatula in hand. "it’s for a bunch of kindergartners, not a michelin-star review."
nanami didn't look up, but the corner of his mouth quirked. "if it is going to be associated with our name, it should be done properly. besides, yuji was very clear that he wanted the best ones for his friends."
at the mention of his name, a small head topped with messy strawberry pink hair popped up from the edge of the counter. yuji had been hovering like a little shark since the cocoa powder came out. he looked between the two of you with wide, innocent eyes, his hands tucked behind his back.
"i can help taste," yuji offered, his voice bright and hopeful. "mommy says chefs always taste the food."
"mommy is right, but the batter has raw eggs in it, buddy," you said, reaching over to ruffle his hair. "you have to wait for the first tray to come out of the oven. why don't you go find your paw patrol stickers for the bake sale bags?"
yuji nodded solemnly and padded away in his dinosaur socks, but you knew him better than that. nanami went back to folding in the chocolate chips, his movements rhythmic and steady. it was one of those domestic moments that made your heart feel a little too big for your chest—seeing this man, who usually carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, being so soft in a flour-dusted apron.
a few minutes passed in comfortable silence until you heard a tiny, wet slapping sound. you looked over just in time to see yuji’s small hand dipping into the bowl of extra chocolate chips nanami had left on the far side of the kitchen counter.
"yuji," nanami said, not even looking up from his mixing. "that is the third time."
yuji froze, his fingers mid-air with two chocolate chips pinched between them. "i was just making sure they weren't... old?"
you burst out laughing, leaning your head on nanami’s shoulder. "baby, we bought those an hour ago. they aren't old."
nanami finally put the spoon down and turned, picking up yuji and settling him on his hip. the contrast between nanami’s sharp, structured presence and yuji’s soft, round face always got to you. "if you eat all the ingredients now, the brownies will just be bread. is that what you want to give your teacher and friends? chocolate bread?"
yuji pouted, thinking it over seriously. "no. i want the gooey ones."
"then you have to be patient," nanami said, tapping the tip of yuji's nose with a finger that had a bit of flour on it. "go sit at the table and i will let you lick the whisk when i am done. but only if you stop being a little thief."
yuji giggled, squirming down and running to his chair. nanami watched him go, a look of pure, unadulterated devotion on his face that he only ever wore at home. he turned back to you, pulling you into his space by your waist, his hands still smelling like sugar.
"he gets his lack of impulse control from you," he whispered, pressing a quick, firm kiss to your cheek.
"excuse me? i am the height of discipline," you joked, though you immediately proved him right by reaching for a chocolate chip yourself.
nanami caught your wrist, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through his serious exterior. "exactly. absolutely no discipline in this house. i don't know how i'm supposed to raise a son with two children to look after."
"you love it," you whispered back, wrapping your arms around his neck as the oven preheat timer beeped in the background.
"i do," he admitted, his voice low and warm as he kissed your forehead. "more than anything."