#papamin

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦

It’s hot.

That heavy summer heat where even the walls seem to sweat.

Nanami is sitting on the couch, shirtless for the first time in weeks. Rei, tiny and warm, is lying against his bare chest. Skin to skin. He had read that “skin to skin” strengthens bonding, regulates the baby’s temperature, stabilizes breathing.

So there he is.

A serious 27-year-old salaryman, a book in one hand and a baby resting on his torso as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Rei babbles. Makes small, satisfied sounds. Her little fingers open and close against the firm skin of her father’s chest.

Nanami lowers his gaze every so often, making sure she’s comfortable.

Everything is calm. Until it isn’t.

Rei starts to squirm.

First her legs kick restlessly.

Then she turns her head a little.

Then she makes that tiny sound—half complaint, half instinctive searching.

Nanami’s brow furrows slightly.

“Hm?”

He feels something warm and damp.

He blinks and looks down.

And there it is.

Rei, her little face focused and determined, trying with all the conviction in the world to latch onto his chest. Her tiny mouth attempting to suckle.

Absolute silence. Nanami blinks once. Twice.

He looks at his own torso, then back at her.

And then… that small smile appears. The one only you know well.

In a low, calm voice, almost amused, he murmurs:

“Someone's hungry, huh? I’m sorry, sweetheart… only your mother has those.”

Rei pauses and looks at him with that confused, hungry baby expression that doesn’t understand why the universe isn’t cooperating.

She makes a small protesting sound.

Nanami sighs softly, sets the book aside, and carefully lifts her.

“I believe we’re addressing the wrong supplier.”

He holds her against his shoulder, giving her gentle pats on the back.

You walk in from the kitchen at the sound of his voice. “What happened?”

Nanami looks at you with perfect composure.

“Your daughter attempted negotiations with me.”

Rei starts rooting again, insistently. It takes you half a second to understand.

Then you cover your mouth to keep from laughing too loudly.

Nanami hands her to you carefully.

“She needs you more than me at the moment.”

But before fully letting go, he leans down and kisses the top of Rei’s head.

“Good attempt.”

As you settle in to feed her, he leans back against the couch again, watching the two of you.

And no matter how impressive his pectorals may be…

Everyone in this house knows who the true and only source of nourishment is.

most of them just conveniently landed on weekends anyway—he didn’t even get the luxury of a day off. but this one was proving harder to ignore.

especially when you may or may not have accidentally hyped it up to your daughter.

"happy birthday, papa!" she beamed, patting nanami’s thigh with tiny, enthusiastic hands. her face practically glowed with excitement.

you let out a soft, guilty laugh as nanami glanced over at you, half amused, half bewildered.

still, nanami said nothing, just crouched down to put on his shoes—he’d been called in to work again, "holiday" or not. and, despite the impending schedule, he scooped her up with practiced ease, holding her close.

your daughter’s words tumbled out in excited chaos. she clung to him with all the joy in the world, her little fingers finding his sleeves, his shoulders, and finally cupping his cheeks like she was holding the most precious thing on earth.

"papa's day means we have big cake!" she declared. "and we go get your gift and—"

nanami blinked, startled. it clicked.

you did tell her earlier, “it’s papa’s day today,” hoping to gently introduce her to the idea of father’s day. apparently, that translated to: birthday.

his heart cracked a little as he realized the misunderstanding. he softened his voice. “sweetheart… i’m so sorry. it’s not papa’s birthday.”

she stopped mid-sentence, her brows pulling together, trying to process his words.

you stepped in, brushing her hair back softly as you rubbed her back. “it’s father’s day, baby,” you whispered in her ear. “you tell papa thank you for being your papa.”

a moment passed. then her expression lit up with understanding. she turned, wrapped her little arms tightly around nanami’s neck, and whispered, “thank you for being the best papa in the world.”

she nestled into his shoulder, holding him like she never wanted to let go.

“i’m sorry it’s not your birthday, papa,” she mumbled into his collar. “maybe next time?”

nanami’s chest shook with quiet laughter as he held her tighter, his eyes meeting yours over her shoulder. they softened.

he reached out one arm toward you, the unspoken invitation impossible to resist.

you stepped into it, the three of you fitting together like a habit.

and in that moment, nanami decided—maybe this was a holiday worth staying for.

On his lap lay his blade; beside him, a trail of inkspotted white bandage, carefully uncoiled and recoiled into a ribbon. It's ancient, you thought; and your stomach lurched, as though Kento had snuck into a museum to unravel a mummy.

You padded towards him, all pyjamas and bare legs, before setting a coffee down upon the table.

"What's wrong?"

"It's getting sharp again. My blade."

You blinked. You paused. "That's...a problem?"

"It's a blunt blade. It is supposed to be blunt." At your bewilderment, Kento sighed, leaning back, and rubbing his jaw, before eyeing his blade mulishly. "It's cursed. It sharpens with overuse; it does not blunt. So every now and then, it needs...blunting. Or it's not as effective."

"You have a method for that, I assume?"

"I do. Or-- I did. First it was Haibara. Then, Gojo. But Gojo is away, so..."

You blinked again. You frowned. "I don't follow."

Kento didn't elaborate. Instead, he pulled out his phone, and dialed, and waited with it against his ear. Your frown only deepened when he finally spoke.

"Yuuji," Kento hummed. "I have a favour to ask. If you wouldn't mind."

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It was a strange scene to watch. You didn't say a word as the exchange (of instructions and weapon) took place before you.

"Now, you must take very good care of it," Kento ordered, his hands grasping Yuuji's, which grasped the spotted blunt-- sharp-- blade. Yuuji looked terrified; but determined. Imbued with divine purpose. "I'll be away for a few days."

"I-- I will," Yuuji stuttered, clasping the blade to his chest and crying out as it threatened to slide from his grasp. Kento did not react as you did, your mouth pulling tight in horror as you reached out to catch the weapon. Kento held you back with one raised palm as Yuuji continued. "I...I can't believe you'd trust me with it, Nanamin."

"I would trust no-one else, Yuuji."

Yuuji looked as though he might cry. His lower lip drew up, and he grasped the blade like it was a newborn. "I won't let you down, Nanamin."

Papamin and Son Yuji

˚ᰔ SUMMARY. After Shibuya, Kento quit jujutsu sorcery, instead, working as a teacher and trainer at Jujutsu Tech, just without the gruesome missions. He got married, started a family, and finds himself in a predicament involving Calico Critters and three year olds.

CREDS. banners: @/cheysarchives, If anyone know the owner of the Art, please let me know so I can give them credit!! I found the picture on pinterest and I searched everywhere for the artist but I couldn't find them 🤧

CONTENT. FLUFF Reader and Kento are married, Reader and Kento have a 3 year old daughter, no use of y/n, reader calls Kento daddy (JOKINGLY), slight crack (me dogging on nanami), post shibuya Nanami, Shibuya mentions, reader is a Baker and owns a bakery, cursing, tooth rotting fluff, not proof read, WC: 1.6K

A/N. THIS WAS SUPPOSE TO BE A CUTE LITTLE FLUFFY DRABBLE AND THEN I GOT ALL EMOTIONAL AND SHIT AND- I'm sorry also nadie como tú means nobody like you

Kento Nanami never thought about starting a family, let alone getting married, solely because he never thought he'd make it past the age of 20.

Being a Jujutsu Sorcerer meant putting your life on the line, and Kento knew one day death would catch up to him. Although Nanami carried out his work with precision and efficiency, just signing up for the job alone was reckless.

Nanami knew this all very well, but he also knew the job brought in good money so that's why he stayed.

Until he met you.

To most, Kento Nanami was what you could call a workaholic, constantly filing Gojo’s paperwork, taking up long missions, and all around a dependable sorcerer.

That was until your daughter came along. Now, all of a sudden, Kento Nanami didn't have time to do paperwork, or take up last minute missions, he barely even went overtime on most days too!

Nanami preferred to spend his days with his baby girl, whether that was teaching her how to read, taking her to the park, or even playing tea party with her.

Whenever you left for work, Nanami and your daughter would sneak off to the shops to pick up whatever cookies, cupcakes, or mochi she wanted for the tea party. He even made sure to buy different varieties of flavoured milk as ‘tea.’ By the time you came home each day, everything would be cleaned and wiped down so you'd never suspect that your oh-so sensible husband was playing dress up while feeding your six-year-old sugar daily.

Until today…

Your shift had ended earlier than usual, so you had decided to surprise your husband and daughter, stealthily entering the house and sneaking over to her playroom. As you nudged the door open, the scene in front of you was almost baffling.

Nanami knelt in front of your daughter's pink play table, while she sat in a tiny matching pink chair across from him. She had been put in a poofy, blue princess dress, colourful plastic jewellery decorated her arms and neck, and a pretty tiara sat on her head. Nanami was dressed in a white suit with a blue tie that seemed to match her dress, and on his blonde head, another tiny tiara sat.

You stifled a laugh as you watched their tea party unfold. “Would you like some more tea, Papa the Princess Mermaid?” She grinned, shakily holding an extravagant toy teapot over her tiny teacups. Nanami nodded, “I would enjoy a second helping, Your Highness.”

Although you couldn't see his face, you could practically hear the soft smile in his voice. Your daughter clumsily poured what seemed to be chocolate milk into her fathers teacup, before moving to refill her own, spilling a little while doing so.

The two of them raised their cups, pinkies up and out as they clinked the plastic cups together.

This time you couldn't help the giggle that escaped you. The two of them whipped their heads towards the door at the sound, Nanami almost spilling his chocolate milk while doing so. “Honey? You're home early,” he smiled, weary of your reaction to the numerous cupcakes sitting on the table.

“Mhm, work was slow so I was able to leave earlier. What're you two up to?” You questioned as you walked into the room, plopping down beside your daughter and pressing a kiss to her temple.

“Mama!” She squealed, clinging to your side, “Me and papa are having a tea party again!” She happily pointed to the table, which was littered with finger sandwiches, cupcakes, and spilt milk. You hummed, “Is this what you two get up to when I’m away?” Flashing a teasing smirk at your husband, whose face now matched the colour of the table.

He cleared his throat before speaking up, “Well, now that you're here you have to join in.” Nanami smirked, gesturing for you to grab a teacup. “Wait no! Mama needs to be dressed like a queen first,” your daughter shrieked, standing up and dragging you over to her too-large child's vanity.

Now all three of you surrounded the table, you were given a matching tiara, too much plastic jewellery, and enough children makeup to make you look like a very sparkly clown. Nanami had to hide his mouth behind his hand to conceal his grin at your state. “You look ravishing,” he mused.

“Shut up, Ken.”

a/n: super duper short because I never actually write for Nanami and idk his character too well :c

“kento, my love,” you try to hold back a laugh, resting your hand delicately on his shoulder. you really do try.

nanami has been on edge ever since Satoru Gojo's eldest son, saviri, stepped foot onto your patio.

not because he doesn't like the kid—if anything, kento's been weirdly tolerant of saviri over the years. maybe even more than he tolerates gojo himself. but that tolerance went up in flames the second saviri sat next to your daughter on a pool lounger and casually rested his hand on her knee. 

kento hasn't blinked since.

he had been inventing excuses to walk past them every five minutes like some sunburned, poolside secret agent. at one point, he tripped over the garden hose just to interrupt their conversation. 

and everyone was laughing at kento like he was crazy.

but the truth is : he did not invite the gojo family to his daughter's 17 birthday bash just to witness that insufferably shirtless boy flirt with his precious girl. 

“she's a grown girl now,” you say gently, hopping up onto the kitchen counter next to his abandoned beer. His forearms are flexing where they grip the edge—eyes locked on the pool, laser-focused on saviri.

“she's not,” he snaps, a vein flexing along his jaw. “she's my little baby.” 

you hum, biting back another smile as you steal a sip of his beer. 

the thing is, kento had been fine with her adolescent chaos. he took it like a champ—the loud music, the mismatched hair colors, the time she said she wanted a nipple piercing. hell, he even nodded like it was normal when she came home with a tiny tattoo just above her hip.

“i'm going to kill him.” nanami's eye twitch.

“no you're not,” you reply sweetly, a little lovesick by how protective he is. “you're going to smile, pretend you're fine, and then maybe glare at him slightly less murderously when we cut the cake.”

“i should've invited yuji. yuji wouldn't flirt with her.”

“you paid yuji to stop calling you ‘dad’ every time he walks in the door.”

he doesn't answer. only hums darkly and gives your upper thigh a little squeeze. “mission one : in progress," he mutters under his breath. "see you later, love.”

before you can even ask, he's already marching across the patio, preparing himself as if he's about to fight some upper class S-grade curses.. except, this time, the enemy is 21-year-old with floppy hair and six-pack. 

as nanami approaches, he hears a glimpse of their conversation. “—I don't know,” saviri's saying with a low chuckle, “I always liked how you wear your hair up like that. shows off your—”

“saviri,” your husband's voice is pleasant, too pleasant, when he slides onto the lounge chair beside them. the way a normal man absolutely would not. “you look warm. do you need a towel?”

“uh-oh, no, i'm good, thanks… nanami-san.”

“hmm.” nanami reaches over and with the softest, most fatherly gesture in human history, gently lifts saviri's hand off his daughter's leg and sets it aside.

“dad,” she says slowly, squinting at him. “we're literally just talking.”

saviri leans back on his elbows, his skin tanner than his dad could ever be—earning this from his mom. “so, nanami-san,” he says with the exact same annoyingly charming smile satoru has. “do you work out, or is that just all residual cursed energy stress?”

nanami stays as rigid as a statue, arms crossed and sunglasses pushing his blond strands back. “do you want to be buried in the shallow end or the deep end?”

your daughter groans, dragging her hands down her face. “daaaaad”

saviri only laughs as nanami's legs stretch out slightly—a clear boundary line between his daughter and him. “i'm just saying you look good for your age. i hope i'm that fit when i'm, what, fifty?”

“i'm forty-five.”

“oh, wow. and you're not even grumpy !”

nanami exhales slowly. “saviri,” he says carefully, “are you flirting with me?”

saviri smirks, tilting his head innocently. “i mean… your daughter says i’m too flirty, so i thought i’d diversify.”

you can hear gojo wheezing in the distance. nanami’s knuckles go white on the armrest.

“i’m going to get more drinks,” your daughter mutters, standing abruptly, grabbing her towel. her cheeks are a little pink “saviri, come with me—”

“oh no,” your husband cuts in, voice sharp but still polite, the way one talks to an aggressive raccoon. “he’s fine here.”

“dad.”

“sweetheart.”

there's a deadly beat of eye contact. she throws him a look that promises revenge in the form of emotional manipulation, then stomps off toward the cooler with an exaggerated sigh.

“hypothetically speaking…” saviri says, turning his head casually. “how old would she need to be before you stop trying to assassinate me with your eyes?”

“hypothetically?”

“mm-hmmm”

“dead you'd have to be dead.”

saviri nods thoughtfully, still smirking. and kento doesn't miss how is blue vivid eyes follow your daughter's steps. “cool, cool. just gauging the timeline.”

nanami rubs the bridge of his nose like he's aged ten years in ten minutes before looking at gojo's son.

“you're just like him.”

“flattered.”