| Nanami Kento X Reader

| nanami kento x reader

| more of nanami as a househusband!

| #sfw #softnanami #fluff #sliceoflife

| around 2k

| ˏˋ°•*⁀➷: i need him…

nanami always woke up before you. it wasn't because he couldn't sleep-he could, now that life was quieter-but because he remembered what it was like. waking up before the sun, dragging himself to work, already dreading from the thought of another long day ahead. he knew how heavy mornings could feel, how the quiet hours before work stirred often felt like a burden instead of a gift.

so, he made it his mission to make mornings a little more tolerable for you.

the kettle hissed softly as it began to boil, the sound being the first thing that greeted the quiet morning. nanami moved through the kitchen with deliberate calm, sleeves neatly rolled and the pink linen apron you got him tied in a pretty bow at the back. he brewed the coffee, dark and strong, just the way you liked it, and poured it into the chipped mug you always claimed as yours.

he smiled to himself as he remembered how he once tried throwing the mug away after noticing the chipped marks, only to be met with you snatching it out of his hands, a pout on your face as you said, “this was the mug you got me on my first birthday with you.”

toast popped up from the toaster just as he placed a pan on the stove, the eggs cooking perfectly to the soft consistency he knew you preferred. everything he did was methodical and calculated, from the way he spread the jam on the fresh toast, to how he arranged the dishes on the table, so when you finally waddled into the kitchen, still drowsy and grumbling softly at the world, you wouldn’t have to think.

“good morning honey” he said, glancing up at you as you rubbed your eyes. “coffees ready” he would pat your seat on the dining table as he pushed your chair out for you to sit.

he watched as your gaze flickered to the table—perfectly set, a morning made just a little softer—and the faintest smile tugged at the corner of your lips. once you were seated, nanami tapped his cheek with a subtle motion, a small but unmistakable gesture. he never asked for much, but this was the only way he wanted to be thanked: a sweet kiss pressed to his cheek or lips before you began eating.

satisfied when you leaned over and obliged, he sat back and watched quietly as you ate the breakfast he had lovingly prepared, a soft warmth settling in his chest.

you finished the last bite of your breakfast, savoring the perfectly soft eggs and toast as nanami’s eyes flickered up from across the table, checking the time.

“you should start getting ready,” he murmured, voice soft but firm—an unspoken reminder that he knew your schedule almost as well as you did. with a quiet hum of agreement, you stood, his hand instinctively reaching to take your empty plate before you could even think to bring it to the sink.

“i’ve got this,” he said simply, rising to his feet as you headed toward the bathroom.

as the sound of running water filled the apartment, nanami busied himself cleaning up the kitchen. he moved efficiently, wiping down counters and rinsing plates, but still kept half an ear trained on you—listening for the faint thud of the shampoo bottle or the rush of the hair dryer. he wasn’t hovering, not really; he just liked knowing you were moving through the motions of your morning without stress.

by the time you emerged from the shower, wrapped in a fluffy towel, the smell of soap and shampoo lingering in the air, nanami was already waiting with a clean stack of clothes laid neatly on the bed.

“i thought this would work for today,” he said, nodding toward your work clothes—a thoughtfully coordinated outfit he’d pulled from your closet while you showered. he never picked anything too bold or too plain, just the kind of outfit you could put on without second-guessing.

“you’re too good to me,” you mumbled, hair still damp as you dropped onto the edge of the bed.

“hurry up,” he said with a faint smile, “or you’ll be late.”

you rolled your eyes at his precision but still moved to get dressed, slipping into your clothes as nanami quietly disappeared into the bathroom. he returned a moment later with your brush and hair dryer in hand.

“here,” he said, sitting beside you as he plugged in the dryer. “i’ll help.”

you blinked at him, surprised, but he only motioned for you to turn. his large hands were gentle as he ran the brush carefully through your hair, drying it in steady motions—never tugging or rushing, just working with the same patience he applied to everything else in life.

“it’s nice like this,” he murmured once your hair fell soft and smooth. he handed the brush back, standing as you reached for your makeup bag.

while you focused on applying your makeup, nanami moved quietly around the room—folding the towel you’d left draped on the chair, straightening the blanket, making sure your shoes and bag were exactly where you’d need them.

by the time you finished, you found him leaning against the doorframe, sleeves rolled and arms crossed, watching you with a calm, satisfied expression.

“ready?” he asked.

you nodded, smiling as you stood. he stepped forward to adjust your coat and scarf before tapping his cheek again—just like earlier.

“you’re not getting out the door without it,” he said, lips tugging into the faintest smirk.

you laughed softly and pressed a kiss to his cheek, and then a passionate kiss to his lips, the warmth of him lingering against your lips as you finally grabbed your bag.

“have a good day, i love you” nanami said quietly, walking you to the door. his hand rested briefly against the small of your back, grounding and gentle, before you stepped outside into the day he’d carefully set in motion for you.

as the door closed behind you, nanami stood for a moment, taking in the silence that settled over the apartment. he’d miss you while you were gone, of course, but there was laundry to fold, dinner to plan, and a new book to start.

besides, you’d be home soon enough, and he’d be right there waiting.

the apartment was quiet again, the kind of quiet that felt more like peace than emptiness. nanami moved through the rooms, his routine calm and measured, just as it always was. after a moment of reflection, he began folding the laundry, one piece of clothing at a time.

as he picked up your favorite sweater, a soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips. he carefully folded the fabric, fingers brushing over the familiar soft texture. lifting the sweater to his nose, he inhaled deeply. the scent of your natural perfume—warm, sweet, and utterly you—still clung to the fabric, even though he had just washed it. it was subtle, like a memory lingering in the air, and nanami couldn’t help but smile fondly.

he loved that smell, loved how it somehow stayed with him long after you were gone.

as he folded a pair of your socks, his phone buzzed from the counter. pulling it from his pocket, he smiled when he saw your name flashing on the screen. it wasn’t a message—just a call, but he was always happy to hear from you.

as he folded a pair of your socks, his phone buzzed from the counter. pulling it from his pocket, nanami smiled when he saw your name flashing on the screen. it wasn’t a message—just a call, but he always looked forward to hearing your voice.

“hey, my love,” he answered, his voice warm and steady, just the way you liked it.

“hey, babe,” you replied, sounding a little tired but happy to hear him. “how’s your day going?”

“good, just keeping busy,” he said, folding the last of the laundry. “i made your bento this morning—did you eat it yet?”

he could hear you pause, and then you responded with a light laugh, “yeah, it was really good.”

nanami smiled, feeling a warm satisfaction in his chest. “i’m glad. you’re working hard, so you deserve something good.”

“you always make the best lunches, love,” you said, and he could hear the affection in your voice.

“it’s nothing, sweetheart,” he replied, his voice soft. “i just want to make sure you’re taken care of. did you get through your morning okay?”

“yeah, it’s been busy, but i’m hanging in there. i’m just counting down to when i can see you tonight,” you said with a small sigh.

“i’ll be right here when you get home,” he said, his voice full of warmth. “what would you like for dinner? something light, or do you want me to cook something a little heartier?”

“something light sounds perfect, actually. i’ll be so tired when i get home,” you said.

“whatever you want, darling,” nanami replied. “you just focus on your day. i’ve got everything else handled.”

“i love you,” you said softly, and nanami’s heart melted at the words.

“i love you too, sweetheart,” he replied, a smile spreading across his face. “i’ll see you soon.”

after the call ended, nanami set his phone down and turned to the stack of laundry he’d already folded. the house was tidy now, and there was still plenty of time before you’d be home. so, he picked up the book you’d recommended to him.

he settled into his favorite chair by the window, sunlight streaming through the blinds and catching on the edges of the pages. it was a new book, one you’d suggested a few weeks ago. he hadn’t started it until today, but he’d been looking forward to it. he couldn’t remember the last time he had sat down to read for pleasure, but with everything in order, he was glad to start.

as he flipped through the first few pages, he thought of you again—how you always took time to recommend things to him, things you knew he would enjoy. he was eager to see how the story would unfold, just as he was eager to hear about your day when you got home.

the hours passed by slowly, but he never minded the wait. he had a book to enjoy, the sound of your voice still warm in his mind, and a dinner plan to make.

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miyabr0

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miyabr0

6 months ago

Lying To Himself

Content: in which toji is left alone and how he deals with your temporary absence

You have to leave for two weeks, something about a mission in another city. Your boyfriend, Toji, swears it'll be okay, even insists that time will pass by in a blink of an eye.

“‘m not a fucking child, ma. I’ll be fine. Just take care, yeah?”

And so, you peck him on his lips and wave goodbye before you get in the car. Then you’re disappearing in the distance. Toji shrugs, going back in feeling pretty excited to have the house to himself for two weeks — this has never happened before. As he sits on the couch, bottle of beer in one hand and tv remote on the other, he thinks about all the things he can do now.

The toilet seat can stay up, the bins will be full for longer, same goes for the dirty dishes in the sink, and he can watch whatever he wants; no more of those sappy romcoms with predictable plots and cheesy lines.

“’s gonna be fun,” he mutters, a growing grin on his face.

A couple days pass in relative silence, he stays out late, sleeps till noon and eats all the junk you’ve banned from the house. Toji cooks all the steak he wants and leaves the beer bottles to collect dust on the coffee table. And he accepts every invitation from his buddies to go out for drinks, watch basketball at the bar, and plays a couple games too.

He stays up all night, on the evenings he's not getting stupid drunk, playing videogames -- the violent ones you cringe at. During the day, he walks around the place in just his boxers, sometimes not even that, and it's liberating. All a man needs is to be free to balls naked in their own kitchen.

"You're not missing her at all?" Shiu asks, smoke blowing in his face as they stand in the back alley, leaning against the wall of the bar.

Toji snorts. "What am I? Five years old? I can last a couple weeks without being sappy."

His friend gives him a look, half of amused, half disbelieving and a hundred percent smug. None of them miss the death grip he has on his phone, the way his knee is bouncing, and how he isn't even looking at the hot chicks that sway their asses as they walk by.

It’s been great. Really fucking great.

You haven’t been texting much. Sure, you check in here and there, letting him know you’re alright, you’re safe, and makings sure he’s watered your plants. However, there are rarely any opportunities for phone calls longer than five minutes, no FaceTime either, and sometimes he goes to sleep without a ‘goodnight’ from you.

It’s fine.

At least, he can sleep at whatever time he wants without you whining about needing cuddles.

More days pass just like that.

And now he’s rarely leaving the house, finding his drunk friends boring, obnoxious loud, and suddenly he's realised they’re kinda fucking stupid. He starts to get sick of all the steak and fried chicken and takeaway, and instead he’ll text you for the recipe of your lasagne or that smoothie you make him in the morning that’s always greener than the last.

His feet tap on the floor when you don’t reply straight away. And when his phone lights up, he practically dives for it and grips it tight in his palm, screen threatening to crack, when it’s not from you.

“God fucking dammit, Shiu. Don’t fucking talk to me if it’s not important.”

The movies he’s been dying to watch are pretty shit. There’s no depth, no proper pacing, and the dialogue’s cheesy as fuck. Usually, you’d throw popcorn at the screen and complain about all those things, but he finds that he has to mutter them to himself for white noise. Even smirks when he thinks he got it exactly right, guessing what you’d say.

“She’d totally find that shit stupid. And that blood looks fake. It’s like they didn’t even try.”

Most of the phone calls on his history log are from him, more reds than greens. What the fuck have they got you doing over there anyways?

When you do reply to his ‘g’night’ and ‘hey, sleep well?’, he’ll have a go at you for taking so damn long. It’s just fucking ridiculous that you’re clearly sleeping well when he has to hit the gym and tire himself out to even get an hour of shut eye. Sometimes, he can’t even get any and he just paces the length of the living room waiting for a notification from you to pop up.

“Fucking come on! Y'r phone better be dead or something.”

Toji hates having dinner on the table; the seat opposite him is empty, the placemat bare and he feels a freaky fucking soreness in his chest. When that happens, he never finishes his dinner. Must be a symptom of early heart disease. Gotta talk to the doctors about that.

Eventually, you find time to speak to him for an hour, recounting all the crazy things you’ve seen and had to do. He doesn’t interrupt, he just grunts here and there, not even really listening but he urges you to keep talking when there’s a pause, like you’re unsure if you’re talking too much. And when you try to turn the conversation on him, asking about his day, he gives one word answers and then throws you another question.

“Yeah?” He grunts. “What else? Speak up, ma. Wanna hear ya. D’ya go to that shop? Yeah? Y’ buy anything? Send me a picture.”

The guys at work know better than to open their fat mouths around him when he turns up with an extra wrinkle and a ticking in his jaw. Toji is somehow even more sadistic and violent and eager for blood. Even finally accepts their invitation to go out for drinks and drowns himself in the extra strong shit. Assuming he just woke up on the wrong side of the bed, they don’t question his sour mood.

But what they don’t know is that you texted to let him know you’re staying another week.

Fucking texted.

Didn’t even get to hear it from your own voice.

He buries himself in more work and stays at the gym for even longer, pushing his body so far, his mind quiets down and he don’t gotta think about the fact that he’s started sleeping on your side of the bed, that the house is losing your scent, and that divot on the couch where you always sat has flattened out.

The day comes, though, when you’re finally returning home.

“Y’ sure? Not gonna flake again? Be fucking sure, ma. Alright, get back safe.”

Toji throws all the rubbish out, washes the dishes and dries them, double checks that the toilet seat is down, and he’s followed your recipe for beef stew to the letter — it’s cooking in the oven, and it looks fucking great. Even exfoliated in the shower like you’ve been asking him to, almost took off an entire layer of skin. He doesn’t want to admit he feels pretty fucking fresh.

The door handle rattles.

He sits up. And then stands. Walks over to the front door, arms crossing and then uncrossing.

You’re here.

“Hey, Toji—“

Your greeting is smothered in his chest as he threatens to suffocate you with the hardest bear hug in the whole world. And though he’d never hurt you, if you weren’t a sorcerer, you’d have been in big trouble.

“Y’ hungry? Or y’ wanna shower first?”

His hands are all over you, lifting your chin to search your face for any scratches, even squishes your cheeks to be sure, and he’s patting you down for bruises or just to make sure all your limbs are intact. There’s a frown on his lips and it’s pretty darn cute.

“Aw, Toji, baby. Did you miss me?”

“No.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re not a child, blah blah blah.”

Walking past him to take your shoes off, hang your coat and roll your suitcase to the side, you’re inhaling the air and moaning about the delicious food in the oven. Oh, God. You’ve been craving homemade food for so long now. You might actually die if you don’t eat.

“Come here.” Your eyes dart to him, still standing by the doorway, fists clenching and unclenching. Toji looks furious. You look closer. No, he looks…embarrassed? “Said come here, ma.”

“Why?” You ask, head titling in curiosity and slight suspicion.

He grunts. “What? I gotta spell it out for ya?”

Laughing, you tap your foot on the ground and retort back, “Yeah, you might because you need to have a good reason from keeping me from both a good shower and a warm meal.”

Toji rolls his eyes and stalks over to you, yanking you back to his chest so he can wrap his arms around you and keep you still. It’s much softer than before, but you feel the same sense of passion, something that verges on desperation.

It’s almost like…

No.

It can’t be.

Oh, but when you feel his face bury itself in your neck and you hear that long inhale, followed by a deep groan vibrating through his chest, you’re absolutely sure.

Toji missed you.

An overwhelming feeling of love fills you, so does a sense of victory, and you just hug him back, inhaling deeply too. He smells like home, like reluctant cuddles, pats on the ass, and early morning sex. You thought you’d have the most trouble in the two weeks, which turned into three, but as it turns out, he didn’t fare much better.

Though he’d never admit it with his own mouth, his body betrays him.

Toji doesn’t let you get very far without a hand on you somehow, whether that’s a hand on your thigh as you eat dinner side by side, instead of across from each other, or you sitting on his lap as you watch the movie you want to watch. He even waits on the toilet lid as you shower, though that only lasts a couple minutes before he’s stripping and joining you.

“Y’r not washing y’r hair right,” he tuts.

Getting into bed is even worse because he’s practically lying on top of you the whole night, still sniffing your neck, and with his hands exploring your body. Not really in a sexual way, which is odd for him, but as if he just wants to feel you. He wants to feel your warmth, your softness, and reassure himself you’re home.

Soon, he’s out cold and you mumble a goodnight against his forehead.

He wakes up feeling completely refreshed, like a newborn, stretching and grinning about getting ready with the day, and frowns when you’re still fast asleep. Part of him wants to make sure you’re getting your rest, but that part doesn’t win for very long and the much bigger part is shaking you awake.

“Come on, ma. Fucking bored here. Wake up, yeah? Let’s get some breakfast. Wanna talk to ya.”

And when you do wake up, grumbling at how loud he’s being, he ignores the glares you’re giving and the swatting of his hands. Toji gives you a rare, wide, toothy smile and he says,

“There’s my gorgeous girl. Good morning, baby.”

Yeah, this man totally missed you.

5K notes View Post

miyabr0

2 years ago