Mina

(Now playing, "Sweet" - Cigarettes After Sex)

(MDNI! Lots of nsfw/sex talk, Husband!Nanami, fluff, comfort(?), smut, short drabble, Reader is heavily implied fem, pregnancy talk, I suppose? Just soft sex with Nanami.)

Kento Nanami does not fuck.

This man is not coming home after a hard day at work and "fucking the shit out of you." Half the time, he can barely get the dinner you made him in his stomach before he's crashing.

This man is not getting off on being called daddy. Or spanking you while calling you his "good little girl."

Nanami views the idea of coming home to you as the only good thing about leaving in the first place. So when he does come back home to you, he expects softness. Comfort. Not lust.

Nanami isn't a lustful man. This isn't to say he doesn't like sex. He adores it. With the right person, of course. But it's not something he does for his own greed. Kento does not fuck. He makes love.

As cheesy as he knows he'd sound if he ever said it out loud, it's the only descriptive that's ever felt right to him. Nanami doesn't want to grab you by your legs and pin you to the wall and "fuck" you. That sounds aggressive, degrading. As if his spouse, his love, his reason for coming home at all, was something to be used.

Nanami pours all of his love into having sex with you. (Literally and figuratively)

He's not grabbing your chin and spitting into your mouth. He's interlocking your fingers, his lips ghosting over yours as his forehead rests against your own.

He's not saying "look at this pretty fuckin' thing..." while admiring the way your cunt clenches around him. He's saying, "You're so pretty... my angel.." while looking into your teary eyes.

Yes, Nanami is Cumming inside of you. But it's not because he wants to "claim" you or prove he "owns" you. But because he wishes to one day start a family with you. A real family. With the love of his life.

This man isn't rolling over and falling asleep on the opposite side of the bed after sex. Nanami cleans you up as if the touch of water on its own will make you disintegrate like cotton candy. He wraps you up in his big arms, knowing there's not a single place on earth you could be safer. He's kissing the top of your head and rubbing your back as you both fall asleep.

#sendbiceps - feeling bad? maybe some biceps can make it all better? these guys are willing to comply. -> SMAU FICS MASTERLIST!

a/n : heh, shoulda seen me as i went thru pinterest to find these.

i tried to make this as gender neutral as possible! sorry if i messed it up i tried my best

also idk if anyone else is on the taglist... lmk u wanna be here!!

characters included: choso | nanami | higuruma | gojo | geto | sukuna | toji contains: teensy weensy bit of angst, followed by lots of fluff because we all need some in our lives... fem! reader, reader is pretty shy and used to being brushed off, the men of jjk don't let that slide... backstory: you were used to leaving right after sex with past flings, so it was routine by now. afraid of overstaying your welcome, you try to leave after finishing with them. how will they react? quick note: definitely ooc, but no i don't care :3 (not proofread)

ass or boobs ?! :D

you ask them ass or boobs and you send them a suggestive picture after :p (hope you’ll like it!!!🙏🙏 it was fun to do!)

sukuna, nanami, geto, gojo, toji, yuji, megumi, yuta!

yuji, megumi and yuta are not minors in this fic!

A JJK X Reader SMAU

⊹₊˚‧(summary: You find a cute little kitten, and you ask the JJK guys if you can keep it <3) ⊹₊˚‧(contains: Choso Kamo, Suguru Geto, Satoru Gojo, Nanami Kento, Ryomen Sukuna) ⊹₊˚‧(a/n: I'm going through a rebrand crisis, I'm not sure if I should redo my whole aesthetic or not [I want to do a masterlist for sure tho])

toji fushiguro has never felt this helpless in his life.

you’re lying underneath him, completely naked, and instead of the usual heat and hunger, all he sees is anxiety written all over your face. your arms are crossed tightly over your chest, knees pressed together, eyes squeezed shut like you’re bracing for something painful. you want this—you told him you did—but right now you look terrified.

“hey,” he mutters, voice rougher than he means it to be. “you still with me?”

you nod, but it’s tiny. “i… i want to. really. i just—i’m scared i won’t be good enough. you’re so… big. everywhere.”

toji glances down at himself, at his broad chest, thick arms, heavy cock already hard and leaking against his stomach. yeah. he knows. the size difference has never bothered him before, he even kinda liked it, but seeing you this nervous makes something uncomfortable twist in his chest. he isn’t used to this. he’s used to rough, fast, no feelings attached. not this soft, shaky vulnerability.

“shit,” he breathes, running a hand through his hair. he feels clumsy, too big for the moment. “i’m not good at this gentle shit.”

still, he tries. he shifts his weight so he’s not crushing you, lowering himself onto his elbows. one massive hand gently pries your arms away from your chest. “don’t hide from me,” he says, quieter this time. “you’re so beautiful.”

you whimper when his calloused palm cups your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple. he’s trying to be soft, but his hands are rough from years of fighting.

toji leans down and kisses your neck, slow and open-mouthed, hoping it helps. when you finally relax a little, he moves lower, kissing between your breasts, then your stomach. his mouth is hot, a little sloppy, but sincere.

“tell me if it’s too much,” he mumbles against your skin. “i’ll stop. swear.”

Warnings: none. Fluff and short, slice of life

babydaddy!Toji :)

Being Toji's wife wasn't easy, but it was a life you would always choose. Five years ago, you were sitting on the toilet seat, holding the pregnancy test in your trembling hands. Two lines. Pregnant. You were pregnant with his child, Toji's child, the child of your love.

When you told him, Toji was more scared than you were. Scared of failing, of not being a good father, scared of reflecting his own father's flaws onto his own child. But, above all, he promised to stay, to give love, and to try to give the boy a good life.

(no but like this is so real because this is definitely how it happened and it made me laugh sitting in the bus imagining it so here's a tiny blurb about that!!!)

his son's favoritism — higuruma hiromi.

in a blink of an eye, the baby in your arms was now a toddler. the carbon copy of his father who held your smile, your vibrant nature, he meant everything to you and your husband. this baby boy, this son of yours was just three years old deep and despite being so young like this, the young boy was already deeply committed to his beliefs, which was on brand when you, a stunning, multi-faceted actress was his mother and higuruma hiromi, one of the best lawyers in the industry was his father.

besides his preference to grape juice over apple juice, his preference for bread over rice and non-negotiable playground visits, at least once a day, your son has two particular beliefs that tend to dominate his young life.

the first: his mother was the coolest person alive.

the second: his father was...just some guy who lives with them.

and its not even close.

it started the day you brought him to set. he had toddled in holding your hand, his tiny sneakers squeaking against polished floors, curls bouncing with every determined step. the crew melted instantly when they saw him, assistants crouching to greet him, makeup artists cooing over his little jacket, production staff whispering, that’s her son. that's miss [y/n] and higuruma-sensei's son!

but he barely noticed them.

but how could he notice anyone else?

he was too busy staring at you.

you were in costume, dressed sharp and elegant for the role, hair pinned perfectly, makeup flawless under the lights. when you stepped out of the trailer, script in hand, he froze in place.

“mama…” he whispered, eyes huge.

you smiled. “hi, baby.”

he gasped like you had descended from heaven. “you look SO AWESOME, mama!"

the entire crew blinked at his profession before starting to echo into laughter, clapping as though your son was the most precious gift of life that had ever come to pass. you couldn't help but feel warmth in your chest as you smiled. he was so young yet everything he does touches you immensely.

he ran straight for you, nearly tripping over his own feet, hugging your legs with all the force a three-year-old could muster. “you’re on tv mama! and movies! and posters!”

“sometimes, baby. mama does stories and they put it on telly." you said, laughing as you picked him up. "you watch some with dada, right?"

“yes! mama, that means you’re famous, and you're always cool!” he said seriously, touching your cheek. “just like superheroes.”

then he glanced over your shoulder. your husband, higuruma hiromi stood just a few feet away, carrying the diaper bag and your son’s snack container, dressed in a plain button-down with his usual unreadable expression. he had taken the time off his half day from the law firm to go and visit you on set, though of course, he was probably thinking what to cook for dinner tonight since it was his turn.

your son blinked, then pointed. “and that’s dada.”

hiromi raised a brow. “just dada, son?”

your son nodded. “yeah.”

“anything else to add to that, though?”

he considered it for a moment. “…dada, he drives. a lot. me to daycare."

"that's a lot on dada, though, son. dada has work in the morning too."

"hm, not really."

the sound that came out of your throat was somewhere between a laugh and a choke. hiromi looked at you for a moment but that made you laugh even harder than you should have.

hiromi adjusted his reading glasses. “i’ll have you know i’m one of the most feared divorce attorneys in the city, son. dada brought you to work when you were a baby."

your son stared blankly. shortly, he looked at you, confused. “what’s attorney, mama?”

"he helps people with their problems, baby." you explained softly. "dada does that for a living."

he turned back to hiromi. “so…you work in an office, dada?"

hiromi went silent for a moment. he hummed. “sometimes." he said to his son tenderly, ruffling his dark raven hair. "though dada works at the court half the time."

your son gave a polite nod the way toddlers did when deeply unimpressed. "but what court?"

"its a place where people solve their problems with rules. remember how mama has rules for you at home to keep you safe?"

your son nods. you smiled at how adorable he was. "well its the same, but more people."

“okay, that make sense."

hiromi pursed his lips tightly.

your son doesn't sound that impressed.

but you both chalk it up to him being too young.

later that month, you took him to a red carpet premiere for your movie. camera flashes went wild the second you stepped out of the car. people called your name, reporters smiled, photographers shouted for your attention. your son, dressed in the cutest tiniest suit, held your hand proudly while staring around like he had entered your kingdom.

“WOW!” he shouted excitedly, clapping. “they all know mama!”

“inside voices, son.” hiromi muttered beside him.

“why?” your son asked. “nobody yell your name.”

you nearly folded in half laughing as you heard your son say that. the formidable higuruma hiromi exhaled slowly through his nose, as he looked at your son, as though asking what would it take for him to be impressed with him.

crowd of reporters called for a family photo, and you looked at your husband who nodded and relented. you crouched to straighten your son’s tie before standing between your husband and child.

“look this way!”

your son beamed brightly at every camera. then, loud enough for half the carpet to hear, he announced “my mama is the best actress in the WHOLE WORLD!”

you gasped.

more flashes.

more laughter.

then he added, pointing at hiromi beside him. “and my daddy is here too!”

you heard several photographers burst out laughing. hiromi closed his eyes for one long moment. when he opened them, he looked down at his son. “what exactly do you think i do? didn't papa and mama explain my job?”

"i don't remember...." your child says as he tilted his head.“…you drink coffee.”

“yes, but anything else?”

“you wear nice shoes.”

you had to turn away before your laughter ruined your makeup. you pat your husband's shoulder, as though trying to comfort him, trying to make sure he's alright. he could only sigh.

"i-its okay...." you snicker in laughter.

"if you wanna laugh out loud, do it now."

and that you did, so many times.

that night, after the event, your son sat on the kitchen counter in pajamas eating strawberries while you removed your earrings and your necklace and put them back in the jewelry box. higuruma hiromi stood at the sink, loosening his tie. your son watched him quietly for a moment.

then asked, “dada, mama says you’re really smart.”

“that’s kind of her to say.”

“and scary at your job."

“less kind, but accurate.”

“and people listen to you?” your son raised a brow at his father. "do they really?"

“usually. if they work for me.” hiromi nodded. "but with clients, people make their own decisions. we can't control that."

your son thought hard but then looked at hiromi with fresh intrigue. you looked at your son. he didn't understand any of those words at all. your husband pat your son's head.

“…so you’re like mama too?”

hiromi glanced at you, then back at him. “not quite, but dada's job means speaking with people and making sure they're okay so he can help them."

"but does that mean you win all the time?"

"well—"

your son slid off the counter, marched over, and hugged his father’s leg. “it okay, dada. if you don't win and bring home money!” he said kindly. “you can still live with us. mama can make it!"

you laughed so hard you had tears in your eyes, caught off guard as you undid the pins from your hair. your husband looked down at the tiny child clinging to him, expression unreadable. then he rested a hand on his son’s head. he was defeated but he can't get angry at his son at all. he loved him too much he kissed his son's forehead.

“how generous of you.”

"h-he really loves you, darling!"

"quite obvious, yes, sweetheart."

"mama cooler!" your son quipped soon after.

the argument wasn’t supposed to get this far. you and higuruma had been arguing for 40 minutes over a case gone wrong, injustice slipping through his fingers again, the bitterness sitting heavy in his chest.

“you know you don’t have to do this alone, hiromi. i dont know why you think your able to. im here for a reason to carry your burdens.” you said for the third time, stepping closer. “you dont understand, alright!” he snaps.

“im trying to—“

“thats the problem, your trying to. you think this is something you can fix with just concern and soft words?” the words stung but you didn’t back away.

“i’m trying to be there for you, but all you do is push me away.” he ran a hand through his hair, pacing around the room. his frustration wasnt at you, it never was but it had nowhere else to go. the room felt too small. his thoughts were too loud.

“just drop it.” he muttered.

“no,” you said, firmer this time. “just because everything goes wrong each time, doesnt mean you can just shut me out like i’m—“

the sound was sharp, sudden.

your head snapped slightly to the side before your brain even registered what had happened.

silence.

not heavy silence. not tense silence.

horrified silence.

his hand was still half raised, your cheek stung. his breath hitched

“…i didn’t—“ he dropped his hand like it had burned him. “i didn’t mean to,” the words came out raw, stripped of pride. “i didn’t— i wasn’t thinking.”

you didn’t yell

you didnt cry

you just looked at him.

and that look, not fear, not even anger— just quiet wounded clarity, made something inside his chest collapse.

“..angel.”

you stepped back, just one slow step like you were adjusting the distance between two strangers. higuruma felt like verdict being read aloud.

“i-i can’t stay here right now.” you whispered softly.

his throat tightened. “you don’t have to go.. i.. i didn’t mean it love..”

but even as he said it, he knew you did.

you grabbed your jacket. your hands were steady. that steadiness unsettled him more than tears ever could.

“i love you, but.” you said softly.

“but?

“i won’t stay somewhere i get hurt for caring.”

no accusation, just fact. he nodded once, a lawyer accepting evidence.

“that’s fair.”

fair.

he hated that word right now.

you paused at the door. for a second, he thought you might turn back. that maybe this would dissolve into a fragile embrace and apologise and promises.

instead, you said quietly, “you need to figure out why that happened. and i need to figure out if i can trust you again.”

the door closed gently.

a/n this is sloppy and short ik but its something bc i havent been posting lately, i will get back to it tho 🥹 soon trust!!

^⁃ ⩊ ⁃₊⁺ so much fluff your heart will burst!

the courtroom was silent except for the rhythmic tap of hiromi’s pen against his notepad. he’d been staring at the same line of legal jargon for twenty minutes, the words blurring together like ink smudged by restless fingers. across the room, the prosecutor cleared her throat, but hiromi didn’t glance up. his thoughts were elsewhere—specifically, on the text you’d sent him two hours ago: "just one more document!! promise i’ll sleep after <3"

he exhaled through his nose, flipping his notepad shut with a snap that made the bailiff jump. “your honor,” he said, standing abruptly, “i move for a recess.” the judge blinked, but hiromi was already shrugging into his coat, his expression the picture of calm. “family emergency.”

you didn’t hear him come in. too busy hunched over your laptop, squinting at the screen with a half-eaten granola bar crumpled in your fist. the apartment was dim, the only light coming from the glow of your monitor and the neon sign from the ramen shop across the street. a shadow fell over your keyboard, and you yelped, spinning around to find hiromi looming behind you, arms crossed.

"oh, you're home home," you mumbled, blinking up at him like a startled rabbit. your fingers twitched toward the laptop again on instinct, but hiromi's hand came down gently over yours, warm and unyielding. "mm. and you're awake awake," he murmured back, thumb brushing the dark circles under your eye. "two hours past your last 'one more document' text, sweetheart."

you wrinkled your nose at him, but he just leaned down until his forehead bumped yours. "hiro," you whined, squirming when his free arm hooked around your waist to haul you flush against his chest. "i have to finish this—" "no," he said, simple and firm, nose nudging your temple. "what you have to do is sleep. or i'm carrying you to bed myself."

a laugh bubbled up despite your exhaustion. "you did carry me last week." "and i'll do it every night if it means you stop working yourself into the ground," he muttered, lips grazing your cheekbone. his voice dropped to that low, rough tone that always made your stomach flip. "c'mon, baby. let me take care of you."

your protest died halfway up your throat when his fingers slid into your hair, scratching gently at your scalp in that way that always made you melt. “m’not the ground,” you mumbled petulantly, but your head was already lolling against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. hiromi huffed a quiet laugh, his breath warm against your ear. “could’ve fooled me,” he murmured, nudging your laptop closed with one hand while the other tightened around your waist. “you’re swaying.”

“am not,” you lied, even as your knees buckled when he tugged you upright. hiromi didn’t dignify that with a response, just scooped you up like you weighed nothing, your legs dangling over his arm as he headed for the bedroom. you yelped, gripping his collar. “hiro—the document—” “can wait,” he interrupted, kicking the door shut behind him with his heel. “you can’t.”

the mattress dipped under his weight as he sat, rearranging you in his lap like you were something precious. you squirmed, but his arms were iron around you, his chin resting on top of your head. “stop that,” he muttered when you elbowed him halfheartedly. “you’re gonna hurt yourself.” you groaned, tipping your head back to glare up at him. “i’m fine —” “you’re exhausted,” he corrected, pressing a kiss to your furrowed brow. “and i’m not arguing about this.”

his hand slid up your spine, kneading the tension between your shoulders until you went boneless against him with a sigh. “there you go,” he murmured, lips brushing your temple. “just let go, sweetheart. i’ve got you.” you wanted to argue, really you did, but his fingers were magic, and the steady thump of his heartbeat under your ear was lulling you deeper into drowsiness by the second.

"still gonna fight me?" hiromi's voice rumbled through his chest, vibrating against your cheek where you'd slumped against him. you mumbled something incoherent into his shirt, fingers curling weakly into the fabric. he chuckled, the sound warm and fond, and you felt his lips press against the crown of your head. "didn't think so."

his fingers trailed down to the small of your back, tracing idle circles that made your toes curl. "y'know," you slurred, voice thick with exhaustion, "this is kinda counterproductive. if you keep doing that, i'm gonna get distracted instead of sleeping." hiromi's hum was amused, his breath stirring your hair. "that so?" his thumb brushed the dip of your waist, feather-light. "then close your eyes, baby. problem solved."

you huffed but nuzzled closer, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne—something warm and woody, undercut by the faint tang of ink from the legal documents he’d been buried in all day. "missed you," you admitted quietly, the confession slipping out in the hazy space between wakefulness and sleep. his hand stilled for a heartbeat before resuming its slow path up your spine. "i was right here," he murmured, but there was something raw in his voice that made your chest ache.

"not like this," you argued, tilting your head just enough to peer up at him through your lashes. "you've been working late every night this week." hiromi's jaw tightened, his gaze flickering away for a fraction of a second before returning to you. "pot calling the kettle black, sweetheart." you wrinkled your nose at him, but he just cupped your cheek, his thumb smoothing over the apple of it. "we're a pair, huh?"

"a pair of idiots," you muttered, but there was no bite to it—just the soft exhale of someone too tired to even pretend to be annoyed. hiromi chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest where your ear pressed against it. "your idiot," he corrected, fingers carding through your hair again. "only mine gets to run themselves ragged like this."

you made a vague noise of protest, but it dissolved into a sigh when his nails scratched lightly at your scalp. "m'not ragged," you mumbled, even as your eyelids drooped heavier. "just... slightly tired." hiromi snorted, his free hand sliding down to squeeze your hip.

"slightly tired," he repeated, rolling his eyes as you slumped further against him, your breathing already evening out. his fingers traced the curve of your ear, tucking a loose strand of hair behind it. "you’re delusional is what you are." you hummed, too far gone to argue, your fingers slackening where they’d been clutching his shirt. hiromi pressed another kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment before shifting you both carefully onto the pillows. "there we go," he whispered, his voice barely audible as he pulled the blanket up over your shoulders. "just like that."

you stirred when the warmth beside you shifted, cracking one eye open just in time to see hiromi shrugging out of his suit jacket with a quiet sigh. the dim glow from the streetlight outside painted stripes across his back as he undid his tie, the silk sliding free with a whisper against his collar. "what're you doing," you mumbled, voice thick with sleep, fingers reaching out to curl into the fabric of his dress shirt before he could unbutton it. hiromi caught your wrist, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "getting comfortable," he murmured, peeling your fingers away gently. "you sleep better when i'm like this."

you wanted to argue—mostly out of habit—but your protest died in your throat when he tugged his shirt over his head, the muscles in his arms flexing as he tossed it onto the chair by the bed. the sight of him like this, bare-chested and soft around the edges after a long day, made something warm and syrupy settle in your chest. "cheater," you accused weakly, already scooting closer as he unbuckled his belt with one hand, the other bracing against the headboard to keep his balance. hiromi smirked, kicking his pants off before sliding under the covers beside you.

the second your skin touched his, you melted, tucking your face into the crook of his neck with a sigh. hiromi hummed, his free hand coming up to card through your hair, fingertips grazing your scalp in slow, deliberate strokes. "see?" he murmured, lips brushing your forehead. "better." you nodded wordlessly, too busy nosing at the hollow of his throat, breathing in the faint scent of his cologne mixed with something uniquely him—warm and familiar and safe. his heartbeat thudded steady under your cheek, a metronome counting down the seconds until you slipped under completely.

"still awake?" hiromi asked after a moment, voice low and rough with exhaustion. you shook your head against his collarbone, fingers curling into the sheets between you. "no," you lied, pressing a sleepy kiss to his chest just to feel him shiver. he chuckled, the sound rumbling through his ribs, and tightened his grip on your hip. "liar," he accused fondly, tilting his chin down to nuzzle the top of your head. "goodnight, honey. i love you."

you wanted to say it back—you did—but sleep was dragging you under too fast, your limbs heavy and your thoughts syrupy slow. instead, you just burrowed deeper into him, your leg hooking over his waist like you were trying to fuse your skeletons together. hiromi didn't complain, just adjusted his grip to accommodate you, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on the small of your back until your breathing evened out completely.

as he watched you relax in his arms, higuruma realized one thing.