Nanami’s wife had a big teeny tiny obsession with sundresses. In fact, over a quarter of your wardrobe was occupied with sundresses hung meticulously in colour order along the railing. You looked so happy in them, eyes creasing as you smiled with glee.

It drove Nanami absolutely crazy.

Of course he loved the dresses and he loved seeing you happy even more, but the way the material hugged your chest and hips, the way it flowed beautifully around your lower half and swayed in slow motion whenever you moved had him going insane. He felt his cock hardening whenever you walked out of the bedroom and the self control he had to teach himself was becoming unbearable.

“Kento? Are you okay?”

His head snapped up to your eyes instantly, reaching for your hand and kissing your knuckles gently. “Sorry, sweetheart. I’m fine.”

“You seem distracted,” you add on.

“Just… work stuff,” he lied, trying to avoid eye contact with your yellow sundress, little blue flowers printed over it.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Your adorable concerned expression had Nanami staring down at his lap, counting to ten in his head to try and prevent all the blood rushing to his groin. His jaw tightened painfully.

“I’m okay, darling. Thank you for offering.”

You wouldn’t let up though, unable to move on from the conversation because of how weird your husband was acting. You squeezed his hand gently from across the dining table. “Kenny, are-“

You pause mid sentence when he groans, eyes squeezing shut. With a curious mind, you lean down to look under the table and notice the large bulge forming in his work trousers.

You can’t help but burst out into giggles.

Nanami stares at you like you’re personally offending him.

“Love, it’s not nice to laugh.”

“Aww, you’re so cute, Ken! Why didn’t you just tell me?” One foot outstretches to press against his groin under the table, eliciting another low moan.

“Didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he grits out.

“Hm? How do you mean?”

“I didn’t-“ His breaths becomes shorter. “-want to make you feel sexualised in your dress.”

You beam. “So you like them that much, huh?”

He groans again when you rub over his hardened cock slowly. “Don’t tease, darling. You know I love them, and you.”

nanami is not a clingy man. he never has been.

in a relationship, he’s measured with affection in a way that’s intentional, never careless. he shows love in structure and reliability.

he walks you home even when it’s out of his way, remembers your favorite things, things you mention only once. he reminds you to eat when you’re busy and stressed. knows or exact orders.

you, on the other hand, have always wanted to be closer to people.

you’ve wanted the hugs, the leaning, the casual warmth of being allowed into someone’s space. you’ve watched friends and couples do it so easily—arms looped, hands intertwined, shoulders pressed together.

you wondered what it would feel like not to hesitate every time.

the want has always been there but you’ve never acted on it. ever. not with your family. not with your friends.

you’re awkward. you overthink. your body always manages to freeze even when your heart says go.

you’re touch starved. so what? it’s all you’ve ever known. but definitely not because you don’t want it. you just… never know how to reach for it.

you’re clingy. only in your head.

and nanami kento made it worse for you. your want for him screams at you louder than bombs.

every time he sat beside you, you felt the pull toward him like gravity. every time he stood too close to your liking, your arms ached with the urge to hug him, to be hugged, just once, just to know what it would feel like.

you’d imagine it vividly—his weight, his warmth, the way he’d feel solid under your hands—and then immediately scold yourself for even thinking it.

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦

Kento comes home tired, with that quiet exhaustion that doesn’t complain. He takes off his watch, carefully folds his jacket, and almost without realizing it, ends up lying face down on the couch, one arm hanging loose, his breathing deep and steady. He didn’t plan to fall asleep… but his body decides for him.

And as if it were an unwritten law, the children feel it.

The oldest arrives first, the boy. He already understands that dad needs to rest, so he doesn’t wake him. He sits carefully on the floor beside Kento’s head, his back against the couch. He pulls out a book or a quiet toy. Sometimes, without thinking, he rests his hand over Kento’s, like an anchor.

Then the girls arrive. One by one.

One climbs onto his back with extreme care, as if stepping onto sacred ground. She settles between his shoulder blades, using her father as a warm mattress. Another curls up at his side, her cheek against his shoulder. The youngest tries to copy the others and ends up half on top of him, half sideways, breathing slowly.

Kento doesn’t move, he only lets out a deeper sigh. Because even asleep, he knows. He knows his children are there. He knows they trust him without question.

And his body, large and steady, becomes what it has always been for them: a refuge.

Sometimes he murmurs something in his sleep.

A barely audible “It’s okay.”

A name. No one startles. No one moves.

Because dad is there.

And you watch them from the doorway, your chest tight with love, seeing how your four children gather around Kento as if he were the center of the world. And maybe he is.

Because to them, Kento Nanami is not just their father. He is warmth. He is safety. He is the place where the world stops hurting.

And when he wakes up, his body stiff, one girl asleep on his back, another holding his arm, the oldest still at his side…

He doesn’t complain.

He just smiles, a little.

(,,>﹏<,,) bring your kid to work day + nanami! ✦⋆💼.˚

“my love, are you absolutely sure about this?”

you giggle, turning from where you’d been preparing your daughter’s mini lunchbox so that you’re facing your husband. his face is taut, a subtle sense of worry set in his features.

“kento.” a small, exasperated smile plays on your lips. “she’ll be fine. besides, you know how excited she’s been about this — she’s been talking about it all week!”

“i know, but...what if she gets bored? or if she wants to go home midway through the day? you know i can’t exactly take her back whenever i please.” nanami tugs at his tie a little, smoothing down the edges absentmindedly: a nervous tell of his that you’ve grown accustomed to by now.

you lean back against the kitchen counter, raising an eyebrow.

“she literally clings to you every time you work from home,” you counter, rolling your eyes at the memory of her behaviour just last week. she’d followed him around all day, pacing back-and-forth alongside him and just barely avoiding tripping him up while he had been taking important business calls. you had tried to pry her away just long enough for your poor husband to finish at least one business call without any disruptions, but that only resulted in tears. a lot of them.

in fact, she’d cried for an hour after that, sulking in her father’s arms as he empathetically stroked her hair in an attempt to calm her down.

okay, so nanami supposes you may have a point, she’d probably be just fine at his workplace.

he rubs his temple, regrettably all out of arguments. instead, he gives in and chooses to finish packing his bag for work, shoulders lowering a fraction.

you both hear several loud, unceremonious stomps coming down the stairs, and you simultaneously turn to see your daughter reach the foot of the stairs, all ready for her day out. she has a huge grin plastered on her face, and her hair is in two neat pigtails — thanks to nanami of course — complete with two bright hair clips.

“i’m ready! let’s go!” she rushes to him and tugs at his leg, eyes wide and expression excited. she extends her arms in a silent plea to be carried, and who is your husband to deny his sweet daughter?

“see you after work!” you smile, pressing a quick kiss to your daughter’s nose and waving them both goodbye.

-

nanami leans back slightly from where he’s sat at his desk, staring at his computer screen and inspecting the values in the spreadsheet. it’s monotonous work, just about as boring as always — as should be expected of a 9-5 office job. unlike a typical work day, however, his desk has several colourful drawings scattered across its surface today. the first is a drawing of a flower, spirals of bright yellow crayon forming what he can only assume are the petals. alongside the flower picture are two other drawings: a drawing of a huge, wonky heart coloured in yellow, and then another sheet of paper with a drawing of a stick figure with blond hair, a serious expression drawn onto its round face.

averting his gaze from his desk, nanami moves to lift his breakfast (a pesto-mozzarella baguette) to his mouth, chewing slowly and watching his daughter doodle. she’s got her tongue stuck out as she scribbles in determined silence, her crayon in one hand and a chocolate chip muffin in the other.

the bakery workers had both worn a look of poorly-contained surprise upon hearing his order change from his usual baguette sandwich to both a baguette and a muffin this time. they’d always taken him as a man heavily rooted in routine, and so to see him stray away from what was typical of him was…odd.

“what are you drawing now, sweetheart?” nanami murmurs softly, watching her hunch over yet another sheet of paper, her grip firm on her crayon.

“me and papa at work!” she responds. he raises his eyebrows at that, a tiny, barely-perceptible smile crossing his features as he watches her join up the arms of the two stick figures so that they’re holding hands. she doesn’t lift her head from her drawing, too engrossed in adding his blond hair perfectly atop his head and drawing her own smile just right.

after about fifteen minutes or so, she’s done.

“tada! that’s papa, and that’s me!” she exclaims proudly, glancing up at nanami for approval and beaming when she sees him smile softly back at her. he strokes her hair, quiet for a moment before speaking.

“okay, now that you’ve finished your drawing, why don’t we take a break from playing so i can go get a coffee?”

“it’s not playing.” she corrects him, blinking up at him with solemn eyes. “i’m working, just like you do!” at that, your daughter puts a hand on her hip, looking up at her father with an unimpressed expression. while nanami’s not quite sure that he’d put gruelling office work on the same level as scribbling a few drawings, he decides it’s better not to debate on the matter.

“okay, i’m sorry, honey. let’s take a break from working and go get a coffee.”

“yay! okay!”

your daughter skips down the hall with him, speaking excitedly about her day as they approach the coffee machine.

“do you want to press the buttons for me?” he looks down at his daughter, and she nods excitedly. nanami carefully lifts her up, securing her in his arms so that she can reach the machine properly.

“an americano, please.” he places a mug under the machine before lifting a finger to point at the correct button. the four year old girl presses it with a tiny delighted giggle, clearly pleased with herself as coffee begins to pour out into the cup below.

“i want one too!”

“it may be a little too bitter for you, shall we get you a hot chocolate instead?”

that catches her attention. with an excited squeal, she agrees enthusiastically, turning to face the machine and trying to figure out which button to press. she hesitates, unsure which is the hot chocolate.

“that one, sweetheart.” nanami gently guides her finger to the right button and she turns her head to face him in awe as it pours out, eyes wide and surprised.

a couple of minutes later, your daughter skips back down the hall, nanami following close behind with two mugs in his hands, trying to match her pace while also making sure not to spill anything.

she slides happily into her seat next to his desk, tapping her hands on the tabletop expectantly as she waits for her father to put her mug down before pulling a sheet of paper and a crayon close to her.

“okay. now i’m in work mode! no distracting me, okay?” she blinks sternly up at him. she’s sat about as professionally as a four year old can be, her mug at her side and a stack of papers in front of her.

nonetheless, over the span of the next 5 or so minutes, your husband can’t help but notice one problem.

“is the hot chocolate too hot?” he asks gently, watching as his daughter reaches out for the drink a third time before quickly retracting her hands again.

“…mhm.” that earns a small, empathetic sigh from nanami.

“here, let me help.” he murmurs. gently, he lifts the mug to his lips and blows for a few minutes before taking a small sip.

“there. it should be fine now. try it.” she does so, meanwhile he brushes her hair away from her face tenderly.

“yeah! all better!” she shuts her eyes contentedly and takes the mug from his hands happily, kicking her legs back and forth in between excited sips.

after several minutes of being sat like that and sipping her drink, your daughter looks up from her hot chocolate to face nanami.

“i like working with papa!” she beams at him, showing off the mess of hot chocolate around her mouth and cheeks in the process.

nanami’s expression softens at those simple words.

“yeah, i like working with you too, sweetheart.”

a/n: idea creds to my lovely hazel @hangenism i love this idea and i love you thank you sososo much !!! girl dad papamin you are SO dear to me ˊᗜˋ && this is a semi filler post while i try to get rid of my writing block

cw: 18+, explicit sexual content, choking, rough sex, degrading language, power dynamics, toxic communication, possessiveness, soft aftercare. m.list.

You’re fighting again. Loud enough for the neighbors to hear it through the fucking walls, probably. But at this point, you don’t even care.

“You don’t tell me shit, Nanami!” you yell, arms crossed as you trail him into the kitchen. “You just vanish for a week on ‘assignment,’ and then act like I’m crazy for asking questions!”

He slams the fridge closed hard enough to rattle the glass. “And you act like a spoiled brat every time I don’t tell you something,” he snaps. “It’s classified. You knew that when you started fucking a sorcerer.”

“Oh, so now I’m just someone you fuck?” you hiss, eyebrows raised. “Cute. Didn’t realize that’s all I was—”

“Don’t start,” he warns, tone cold. 

You do start. Of course you do. “Don’t start?” you echo, letting out a laugh. “You mean don’t ask questions? Or don’t get upset when you treat me like shit?”

Nanami turns around slow. His jaw tight, lips pressed into a flat line like he’s holding back the full weight of what he wants to say. “Careful,” he warns again. 

You tilt your head, biting down on your bottom lip. “What? You gonna run off again? Maybe tell Gojo I’ve got too much attitude this week and beg him for a reassignment?”

“I’m not going to let you twist my words into some pathetic little performance of insecurity just because you’re mad I didn’t call,” he growls, stepping in close, crowding you back toward the couch with effortless force. “You want to fight? Fine. Let’s fight.”

He shoves you, sending you stumbling back until your knees hit the edge of the cushions. You fall with a frustrated gasp, eyes wide as he stalks toward you, loosening his tie. 

“You think fucking me’ll fix the fact that you lie to me?” you fire back, even as your legs part instinctively when he steps between them. “You really think your cock is that magical?”

His hands are on you before you can blink—one gripping your jaw tight, forcing your chin up so your eyes stay locked on his. The other grabs the collar of your tank top and rips it down the middle, the sound obscene. “You don’t get to talk to me like that,” he growls. “Put your hands behind your back.” 

You grin, “What’s that, Nanami? Hm?”

And then he’s kneeling between your thighs, spreading them wide, not giving you a second to breathe before he’s burying his face between them. “I said, ‘Put. Your. Hands. Behind. Your. Back.”

“Nanami—!” you gasp, back arching off the couch as his mouth closes over your clit, hot and unrelenting, tongue flicking just right, just fast as you reach for him, bury your fingers in his hair, but he grabs your wrists again, pinning them above your head with one hand, never once pulling away from you.

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?”

"mm," 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—"

“can you hand me the screwdriver?” your neighbor, nanami kento, asked. he wiped his sweat dappled forehead using his shirt that he’d tossed aside, standing across from you shirtless as sweat dripped down his chest.

you almost couldn’t hear what he’d said, way too busy staring at him because what the hell?

that morning, before you’d driven off to the cafe, with all the easiness of a deserved off day for you’d worked nonstop all through the week, you were happy and content and peaceful.

until your gaze caught up on the steam creeping across the cool floor beneath the hood. and let out a horrified scream loud enough to wake the whole neighborhood up.

which, was also the reason your neighbor, nanami kento ended up in your garage, shirtless and sweating.