author’s notes, on the timeline this oneshot took place when mama porc’ was pregnant
[ 03/??] ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ━━━━━ duration, 1.8k words
⚠︎ content warnings, slight angst, else is fluff, domestic fluff
SERIES SYNOPSIS, “a series of drabbles and oneshots, not chronologically, of mama and papa porcupine’s journey through parenthood and marriage.”
#m&pp’!
THE KNOB TURNED with a click. Higuruma opened the door, pushed it ajar, already feeling the weight on his shoulders lifting just by the smell of his home. Even if it smells a bit sort of like butter—your causing, entirely. Else, you’ll start throwing a fit. And, by a fit, weaponize your big, sad watery eyes so he could purchase more scented butter thingamajigs like soap, scented butter toothpaste (he’s beffudled, they sell those?) and, for some reason, facewash.
Now, every time he kissed your cheek—that soft, full swell of your cheek, god he could just eat you up—you smell like the very scent you’re craving.
“I’m home,” He said, kicking off his oxfords. He could make out the TV playing, the low chattering hum of whatever show you put on.
“Honey?” He called out again, heading towards the kitchen. The living room was right over, and the sofa—cushioned with several thick cream blankets for your comfort—was empty. Were you sleeping? He set his briefcase onto the counter and opened the fridge, one hand on top, the scanning the shelves.
“If you’re hungry I could make popcorn,” He said again.
No reply.
“Butter popcorn?” He tried.
Nothing.
It’s a force of habit to reach out for a can of beer. And he does, a split instinctual second that found his hands curling around a non-existent can. He let out a breath and pulled his hand away.
That was before he was married.
Before he met you, actually. Before he got his life together. Now, he’s got all three cinched up in a prim box with a little red bow. He’s got what he wanted and he’s never relapsing back to that sort of life where mornings greeted him in the form of cluttered cans on the ground, where he’d kick it around to pass through, where laundries are tossed into the corner of the room and where his face—unshaven and dull—stared back at him with every reason to blame. Those days, it felt like a chore. Left him wondering if the best way to go was the easiest way forth.
He closed the fridge.
On the surface pinned with a heart shaped magnet was a picture. Before he had a firm of his own, he was still a junior lawyer at a larger establishment. And there, it was the first time he met you. You were an assistant from another department, and his own was throwing a party for his promotion. You went to his office with the sole purpose of being smug, since—well—after all you won a case, and you couldn’t help yourself.
Through it all, while you flaunted, hip jutting out, smirking and preening—he remembered not feeling irritated, but wondering how you’d feel if he just kissed you on that cute cheek. In a strange way, you lighted up his mornings. Made him realize the sun wasn’t an annoying blob of light that burns his eyes, and that the easiest way to go was being able to sleep, knowing the full swell of his heart is safe, drooling on the pillow, cushioned on the bed beside him.
Erase you, and he couldn’t imagine a life forward.
“Hiromi?” He heard your drowsy voice from behind.
Ah, you were sleeping.
He turned around, lips curving into a smile. You were utterly, against all odds, the most loveliest sight he’s ever seen—waddling towards him in shuffles barefoot, dressed in a thin satin nightgown that were pulled taut over the round swell of your belly. Your hair was a mess, sticking in different directions and on your cheek—presumably from a really, really deep nap. You were about to walk towards him when something clicked, and you crossed your arms, glaring.
“You’re late.” You said.
“And you’re petulant as usual.” He walked over, opening his arms, “Come here, bug. Papa bug misses you.”
“I don’t,” you turned away, still in that drowsy, sulky reverow, but you stepped into his arms anyways, eager to be enveloped in that warm blanket that was your husband. You laid your cheek on his chest, cozying up to his neck. He nosed your temple, inhaling the gentle scent of your, ahem, butter shampoo, pressing soft wet little kisses on the skin.
“I saw a bird the other day,” He murmured, amused, another kiss to your head, rocking you slightly into a little waltz. “The one I told you about yesterday. Remember? The one on the windowsill?”
He’s got so many stories he recounted to you, that you couldn’t count. This particular one, though, went like this: Higuruma was eating his lunch at the break room. And, normally, he’d leave the window open for air since the air conditioner was broken and the boss (himself) either have forgotten to fix it or— blast it, yeah, actually he forgot to fix it. He was in the middle of wrapping up his empty container, about to take his last bite of the smoked fish, when a pigeon landed on the sill. Stared up at him for a long moment with its beady eyes. Then, with one shameless peck, plucked his fish with its beak.
And flew.
“What happened?” You asked.
“Turned out, it came again this morning,” His hands landed on your waist.
“Oh? What did it do?.” You said, then you inhaled his collar, eager to smell the warm scent of your husband—
And you stop.
“It didn’t take my fish again,” He continued, oblivious.
Since the pregnancy, since he put a baby in your belly, your senses were heightened to the max. Reason? You don’t know, either. Guess it’s some super power only women have. Or, it’s probably just hormones with how sensitive your nose was, detecting certain scents and smells like a preying bloodhound.
Higuruma knew. He’s used to it. Used to bathe himself in non-scented soap just to appease your nose. Sometimes he didn’t even shower. Today, though, he doesn’t smell like Higuruma. It’s different. This scent is more fancy, like white opulent plumes coiling in the air. Like aromatic, budding flowers. Like vintage sweet wine.
Like—
Like Perfume.
When Higuruma noticed you were quiet, he pulls back, concerned. “What’s wrong, bug?”
You look back up, your eyes wide and watery, “You…you’re cheating on me.”
Every thought in his brain becomes blank. He’s too caught off guard to even realize what you mean, because you’re already (adorably) waddling away with sad, slow shuffled, sniffling towards the bedroom.
“You’re cheating on me,” You said again, voice thick, “I can smell her perfume on you.”
“Her—her perfume?” He said incredulously, dumbly walking after you, his hands in the air with constant surrender, “Baby, honey bug,” He tried, but you waddled away even quicker. He bit his cheek becuase you’re too cute like this, even when accusing him of infidelity, “darling. I would never—listen, I would never do the things you think I’d do—”
“I’d understand!” You wailed, snatching up a pillow and raising it, “I’m—I’m swollen, big, and—and with stupid hormones that’s always making me sobby and angry all the time. I’d understand if you want someone better than me!”
He cornered her against the couch, “That’s completely baseless, bug, I would never.”
“You’re just saying that because I’m your wife!” The pillow plumped against his chest.
“You’re right,” He said, “Because you’re my darling wife that I say this. Would I say this to some random man I’ve never met?”
“With that perfume on you,” You hiccuped, “who knows.”
He didn’t realize you were going through these things. How couldn’t he have not known? His gaze softened, as did his voice, “Hey now, put the pillow down and we can talk. Can’t negotiate with a broken bone, can I?”
“Until you tell me who that perfume belongs to,” Your voice was wobbly despite the firm time, “and we’ll talk.”
“Promise you won’t get mad if I tell you?”
“Why, is it a pretty girl?” You hiccuped.
“It’s my mom’s, honeybug,” He said, one step closer. You were so close he could draw you into a senseless hug.
“Really,” You said flatly, not convinced.
“You can call Shimizu and ask. She never lies. You know that.”
In fact, Shimizu tasked—basically anointed—herself to be Higuruma’s deterrent, determined to hamper as many women as possible who wanted to get close to the man and wife him up. You weren’t the jealous type, but hormones got you riled up sometimes. And in Shimizu’s case, she got heated up in your stead for the teeniest tiniest interaction with a woman.
“She’s busy, she can’t keep tabs all the time,” You shot back.
“Then check the cameras,” He said, “Its open twenty four seven and I fix it always, round the clock. The app is on my phone, you can open it.”
Your posture loosened, a little less hostile, “If she did go, what’s she doing there? I thought she’s in Kyoto. And no sudden movements.”
“She visited this morning,” He latched onto that hope filling his chest, “Quick one. Just wanted a rain check and the usual.”
“What usual?”
“If you’re eating well.”
“And?”
“And If I’m being an ass.”
Sounds about her, alright. When her son announced that he’ll wed you as his wife, she looked like the gods finally gave her reason to invest in Real Estate. Jokes aside, she’s a fussy mother and she’d make a really, really great grandma to your daughter. You love her to bits, which was why you’re willing to believe him now. Not believing him meant you didn’t believe she was truthful, coming.
“You are,” You sniffled, wiping your face with the back of your arm, “You are being an ass and I hate you.”
“Even when it gets worse, I’ll be here,” He said, opening his arms, “Now, there’s my bug. I’ll make you hate me less, if I could?”
He’s such a good husband you don’t know how you managed to cinch him. Always so devoted, so patient with you even when you couldn’t tell heads or tails. You went into his embrace, clutching one lapel of his suit jacket, your body shuddering against his. A mole burying into the warm soil.
“Hey,” He murmured, lips on the crown of your head, “It’s okay, it’s alright. I’m here. I’m here.”
“I’m sorry,” Your voice was a small little sniffle against his shirt, “I picked a fight for no reason at all, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” He hugged you tighter, relishing the soft give of your body, “You feel heavy all the time, accommodating two heartbeats in your body. Least I could do is make sure you’re comfortable and safe.”
“But I—”
“It’s all done now, okay? Don’t fret.” He shushed you with a sweet kiss on the lips. Then, he pulled away, thumb stroking your cheek, “Popcorn?”
You were uncertain for a moment then nodded,“Mhm.”
This is working this is working this is working this is working this is working this is working this is working this is working this is working this is working this is working this is working this is working this is working this is working
Hiromi knew how difficult it must be for you to be carrying a child — he had done his research the same night you shakily handed him the positive test, biting your lip in anticipation. That same night he had already fallen down a rabbit hole of pregnancy symptoms, prenatal care, mood swings, the whole nine yards. His approach to your pregnancy was similar to how he handled his court cases, dedication and education.
He was prepared for the nausea, the swelling, even the insane mood swings that were bound to smack him in the face.
What Hiromi wasn't prepared for? Being awoken every night because you suddenly craved the most outrageous combination of food.
The first couple of times it was tame, asking him to grab you some mochi from the kitchen at eleven, maybe even a request to make a fruit salad just before he got into bed. Then it got weirder, like the time you woke him up at one in the morning so he could make you ramen with strawberries on top, or when you asked for whipped cream and pickles at 3AM.
Now, for the third time this week, Hiromi felt your hands nudge his shoulder, squeezing ever so slightly. “Romi,” your voice was soft, almost inaudible through the thick night. Almost. “Romi, baby…”
He let out a tired groan, shifting slightly in his half-conscious state. “Can you run to the store to buy some honey? We ran out and I really want to have some with grapes.” He made another sleepy grumble, cracking an eye open to peer at the digital clock on the side table.
4:07AM.
A long groan left his lips, arm flopping dramatically over his face in an attempt to hide from your pleading eyes even in the dark. “Honey,” his voice came out hoarse, coated in exhaustion, “I’m tired.”
The second those words left his mouth Hiromi knew he fucked up.
Silence engulfed the room for what felt like an eternity, he swiftly sat up, searching the dark room for your face. As his eyes adjusted he found your own, wide and glassy with tears that threatened to spill.
“Oh…” You whispered, lips quivering as you held back your tears.
Hiromi felt his heart drop to his ass. “N-No, no, don't —” but he was too late. “You don't have to go,” your voice wavered as you turned away from him and settled under the covers again. “Im sorry, I’m being annoying.”
He felt his stomach clench at your words, “Honey —”
“I didn't mean to disturb you...” you trailed off, curling inwards underneath the blanket.
Then he heard it, the sound that every husband fears.
Your sniffling.
His eyes widened, fear taking over every nerve as his hands searched for yours amid the pillows and covers. “Hey, why are you crying?” You sniffled again, trying to wriggle away as he approached you.
You hiccuped, “You hate me.” Hiromi sighed, moving closer so he could wrap his arms around you, “I absolutely do not hate you.”
“But you sounded mad.”
He chucked at your words, one hand coming up to brush against your cheek, “I sounded asleep.”
You let out a small giggle at his words, wiping your eyes. “You know, Romi, pregnancy cravings are scientifically proven to be emotionally distressing.” He smiled at you, nose brushing against your temple, “Did you finally read all those articles I've been sending you?”
“Maybe…” you murmured before nuzzling closer into his chest. Hiromi leaned over, lips brushing your own. Even with tear-streaked cheeks and red eyes he still believed that you were the prettiest thing he had ever seen. Hiromi sighed again, “You are carrying my child — our child, you could wake me up at five in the morning and ask me to travel across Japan for deep-fried butter and I would still go for you.”
You smiled despite yourself, “Really?”
“Although, I would complain the entire time.”
You beamed up at him. He swears the room lit up because of how bright your eyes were. “Does that mean you'll get me the honey?” With one last sigh, Hiromi pushed himself out of bed. “Ice cream too?” You nodded enthusiastically, “Make sure it’s the big tub.”
He just rolled his eyes, leaning over to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Will you let me sleep once I’m home?”
starting a bakery in malaysia with your husband kento nanami 𑣲 .✦ ݁˖ ۶ৎ
husband!nanami x reader, fluff, f!reader, a little hurt mostly comfort | wc 1.1k
kento nanami had always known he was better suited to a quiet life: maybe he simply preferred a more muted sense of reality, free of the burden of everyday responsibilities and secluded from the bustle of jujutsu society.
he was better suited to slow mornings, the aroma of warm coffee, gentle sunlight washing over his back — and yet it was a kind of luxury he’d never allowed himself to indulge in, a fate he’d never quite earned for himself, too caught up in work and expectations and missions.
until now. until you.
until you encouraged him to leave it all behind, to start a fresh new life in malaysia.
-
the sunlight falls in uneven flickers across the bakery floor, the air still warm with the faint aroma of soft bread and earthy coffee. your husband has his hands pressed against the counter, shoulders low and head inclined. his breathing is slow, not quite laboured, simply slow enough to finally take the warm mid-summer breeze in properly after the busy day at the bakery.
“you okay, ken?” you speak softly, slipping off your apron and making your way to his side before pressing your hands to his shoulders, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into his shoulder blades. you feel his posture immediately relax, an exhale leaving his lips.
“i’m okay, love. just had a busy day today, that’s all.” you nod sympathetically, continuing to massage him with tender attentiveness.
you both remain like that for a short while, appreciating the comfortable silence between you, only occasionally broken by the sound of the waves crashing against the shore outside.
-
the soft lull of the waves had become a sort of normalcy for you both ever since you moved, a gentle metronome counting the slow days and sleepy mornings as they passed. most days were spent in the warm kitchen of the bakery, taking in the sounds of the sea foam fizzing against the bay, enveloped in the warm scent of fresh cakes and pastries.
you’d start your mornings leaning against the porch, nanami’s arm around your back, a hand against your shoulder as you let the salty air and the warm summer breeze pepper your face. you’d each be holding a coffee, yours perfectly brewed just the way you like by your husband, with your head pressed to his shoulder as you both watch the beach ahead of you.
perhaps age had softened him, eroding his usual roughened edges so that the routines he seemed to have cemented into his everyday life washed away into a blur of warm summer days and the scent of cakes and freshly prepared coffee each morning.
or perhaps, he’d decided, it was your presence: having somebody to stand by his side, somebody who saw him as more than a cog slotted into the monotonous clockwork of office life. whatever it was, this lifestyle certainly suited him better — he was sure of it. he was better suited to a life with less stress, less hours spent exhausted after regretfully having to accept yet more hard work. the days stopped blending into one another like they used to, the heavy feeling no longer settling against his chest like it used to each evening as he slumped back into his chair after a brutal 9-5, or an even more brutal mission.
of course, the difficult days still came nonetheless. kento knew better than most that the burden of the real world could be inescapable at times, an inevitable reality granted equally to all. but despite it all, you were there, and something about that made it bearable.
on particularly rough days — when the daily bustle of work life was too demanding, too heavy on him — you’d grasp his hands in yours, rubbing circles into his knuckles as you watched his expression with worried eyes. he’d never really mention how much the monotony wore him down. some small part of him seemed to refuse to outwardly acknowledge it: not wanting to address the lingering heaviness that still seemed to dwell some days, nor the deep-rooted exhaustion lodged deep in his bones.
but of course, you’d notice it anyway. you’d notice the days when everything felt just a little harder for him, the way his breath would come out slightly harsher as he breathed out, eyes pressed shut in a somber kind of exhaustion that felt deeper than just ordinary tiredness. some days you’d catch fleeting flickers of something almost solemn in his features, especially after a particularly tough day, his face sunken and made up of harsh lines and sharp edges, mouth pressed tight. it was as though the exhaustion of day-to-day life had drained him, a sort of lingering sense of fatigue that he couldn’t seem to escape.
on those kinds of days you’d simply do what you could to relieve it — patiently staying by his side, trying to help him carry even a fraction of the burden. you wouldn’t say anything nor mention it — rather, you’d simply help him slip his apron off, sweetly insisting on taking on his job of tidying up the bakery for the night. upon finishing cleaning the counters, you’d lock up the kitchen before taking his hand in yours, silently encouraging him to follow you out of the bakery as you playfully dragged him towards the shore.
it had become a sort of routine for the two of you. you’d rush off to the beach, with him following behind you, both of you still in your bakery uniforms save for your aprons. you’d stand under the warm sunset with him, letting the last remaining slivers of sunlight wash over your faces, the peaceful canvas of amber and peach hues in front of you ebbing away past the horizon as you both stood there, feeling the sand against your feet. the hazy silence would only occasionally be broken by the soft splash of the waves against the shore, fizzing against the bay into foamy nothingness.
for once kento nanami felt at peace: maybe it was the gentle warmth of the sun on his skin, or maybe it was the prospect of waking up to continue pursuing a future at the bakery, secluded from the chaos of the old life he left behind.
or maybe it was simply being stood there, peppered with soothing kisses of warmth from the sun on his face and the salty taste of the breeze against his tongue as he watched you smile so naturally, free of the haste and pressure of the real world. a life free of mundaneness, free of burden.
either way, this is definitely how kento nanami would be willing to spend the rest of his days from now on.
author’s notes: this is a gift for my lovely brooke, HAPPY BIRTHDAYYY!!!💕 i love you sm and i hope you like ittt!!!
ahh also guys this is my first full nanami fic so now i can add nanami to my masterlist!!😛
taglist (thank you!!): @brootato @mayegasm @nonchalantfiend @mochiakun @rielovesphel @yujismissingfingers @megumigooner @vanillaascented @megumisrighttoe @catgvrl @dreamydaredevil @stqrgumi @mariisagb @renrenrenren17 @bowiesprettieststar2 @733164 @palanggaaa @pjslee @megssleepygirl @rengoatku @yujisdreamgirl @hangenism + join!
divider creds @/sweetestpeacreates and @/cursed-carmine!
From my oneshot collection on ao3 @sugurusplaything !!
ღ Satoru Gojo
When Satoru wanted you, he was never shy about it.
The cocky grin on his face before climbing into bed beside you told you all you needed to know. He knew how easy you were for him, how he could have you begging for him in a matter of minutes.
Tonight was one of those nights where you forced yourself to resist. Why? Because if you fed your boyfriends ego any more you were afraid he might explode.
So, you roll over, turning away from him after switching off the lamp beside you- “goodnight” you mumble sleepily, pulling the covers over yourself and closing your eyes. You could practically feel him staring at you in surprise.
“Oh? You don’t want to say goodnight properly?” he teases, laying down beside you, his body not quite touching yours yet.
Truthfully, you had no response to that- Satoru was just going to have to make do with the goodnight you already gave him; though it pained you to resist him.
The room goes silent for all of a few seconds, before you feel one large hand rest on your hip, gripping it possessively. Satoru presses himself against you, using his grip on your hip to press your ass against his painfully hard cock.
Your breath hitches, your cunt aching with need already.
He kisses behind your ear, then your neck, burying his face in it- “we both know you can’t resist me for long, baby.”
He was right. You couldn’t.
Satoru begins grinding his cock against you, breathing heavy into your ear as he snakes his hand down, toying with the hem of your shorts.
“Satoru-” you whisper breathlessly, urging his hand lower.
“Mm, poor thing. Couldn’t resist me for long, huh?”
ღ Toji Fushiguro
Toji almost always woke up hard when he was next to you, he wasn’t one to hide it, either.
Most of the time, he could barely wait until you’d woken up, urging you awake by licking a stripe up your throat, or whispering filth into your ear with that deep, gravelly voice of his that seemed to get even sexier in the mornings.
He presses his large frame against your smaller one, his cock twitching as it makes contact with your ass- large hands making their way up your shirt to grope your tits.
This happened almost every morning, not that you were complaining. Your body developed a natural response over time, grinding against him; his grunts stirring you awake. “Couldn’t help myself, look so damn sexy.”
“You never can help yourself” you mumble, tilting your head back to give him further access to your neck, his fingers gently pinching and rolling your nipples.
He litters your neck with sloppy, open-mouthed kisses, coaxing those sweet sounds from you that made his cock twitch deliciously.
“You complainin’?” he responds, grinding his cock against you harder, pre beginning to leak from his thick tip.
“Mm, never.”
“Didn’t think so” he rasps, his hand trailing down your stomach, under your shorts. He teases your clit with two fingers, before pushing them inside of you; a loud moan slipping past your lips.
“That’s my good girl” he pants, curling his fingers upwards to hit that one spot that made your eyes roll so far back you fear they’d never return.
ღ Suguru Geto
It was late, too late for you to still be awake.
Suguru had just gotten home, taking his evening shower before climbing beside you in bed. You stir awake, feeling the bed dip beside you, “Sugu?” you mumble quietly.
“Shh, go back to sleep, pretty” he coos, climbing under the covers and pulling you close, though not close enough for you to discover he was hard beneath his sweatpants.
“Mm, come closer, you’re so far away” you whine, still half asleep.
He chuckles lowly, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “such a needy thing.”
He does as you wish, pulling you closer, his hard cock poking your lower back. The sensation jolts you awake, his hand now resting on your hip teasingly, drawing idle patterns.
“I don’t want to sleep anymore” you whisper, reaching back to palm him over his sweats. He hisses at the contact, burying his face into your neck.
“It’s late” purrs, voice low and honeyed. It wasn’t a suggestion to stop, he just needed to hear you say it, tell him how much you need him.
“Let me hear you say it, my love” he whispers, grinding against you slowly.
“I need you. Now” you respond almost instantly, zero hesitation in your mind.
Suguru hums in satisfaction, helping you shimmy down his sweatpants. “I know, I’ve got you, pretty girl.”
ღ Nanami Kento
After a hard day’s work, the only thing Nanami wanted was to be laid next to his beautiful wife in bed.
You’re sat up in bed waiting for him, wearing the silk pyjamas he bought for you last week, greeting him sweetly as he climbs in next to you.
“You’re not asleep already, honey?” he questions, pressing a kiss to your forehead before laying down, encouraging you to do the same.
“I waited up for you, I’m not too tired anyway” you respond, your husband gathering you close, strong arms wrapping around you. It was often hard to express to Nanami that you were in the mood- especially when he was tired after a stressful day of work.
But you had other methods.
Slowly, you begin grinding back against him, moving his hand between your thighs. “I see. So this is why you waited up?”
“Partly” you respond, Nanami’s hand dipping below your waistband, running his middle finger up your slit.
“You’re wet” he observes, beginning to circle your clit with expert precision. You moan softly, continuing to grind back against him, feeling his cock grow harder.
“You’re hard” you reply, your slick beginning to coat his fingers.
ღ Choso Kamo
Sometimes it felt as if Choso was always hard.
You call him handsome? He’s hard. You kiss him? he’s hard. It didn’t matter what you did, he was so deeply devoted to you that his body had an intense reaction every time you were close to him.
Both of you drift to sleep for a few hours, Choso pulling you closer in his sleep, pressing himself against you, holding you close.
It didn’t take long at all for you to wake, feeling something hard against your ass. You laugh quietly, your boyfriend still sleeping peacefully. You attempt to fall asleep again, unable to relax with his impressive length poking you.
“Cho?” you say quietly, though loud enough that it’d most likely wake him.
“What is it, are you alright?” he responds, hugging you tighter, pressing his cock against you harder.
“It’s kinda hard to get back to sleep with you poking me like that.”
He’s confused for a moment, before realising what you meant. “I’m sorry, I just love you so much” he mumbles, kissing your neck.
You smile, knowing he ultimately means well.
“Want me to help?”
It was the quickest ‘yes’ you’d ever heard.
ღ Hiromi Higuruma
Your husband climbs into bed beside you, pressing a kiss to your exposed shoulder before holding you close, sighing as he feels his body finally relax after a stressful day. He’d stayed later at the office, finishing up his mountain of paperwork after a trial.
Quickly, he realises you’d gone to bed naked, his favourite sight- especially after the day he’d had.
He backs away slightly, peeling the covers away to get a good look at your body, running a finger down your spine. “Perfect” he whispers, catching a glimpse of your mischievous grin.
You back yourself up against him as you both settle back into bed, his hand gripping your hip softly, just enough to remind you you’re his.
“I missed you today” you say, placing your hand on top of his and interlacing your fingers.
“Well, then let me make it up to you, hm?” he responds, pressing himself against your more firmly so you could feel how hard he was for you.
Your breath hitches, your body instinctively grinding back against him. You peel off the covers, revealing your ass to his hungry gaze once again.
He rubs his hands over your soft skin, before giving your ass a firm squeeze.
“There’s nothing I'd rather come home to, sweetheart.”
A/N; I didn't add sukuna to this one cus realistically I don't see that beautiful man spooning anyone LOL
𝔂ou decide to volunteer at your local library during winter break, unaware of the owners cute grandson. you're convinced he absolutely hates you, only to find out he's been thinking on which position to fuck you in first.
warnings / tags smut, brief angst, fluff, small town romance, he's a bit of an ass, rough sex, fingering, public sex, unprotected. reupload !
northern california is rainy around these months.
wanting to be different from the rest of the country, it doesn't offer the warmth of the sun, perfect enough to tan. it instead gives you foggy mornings that blur into rainy afternoons and demands you to be wrapped up in multiple blankets by the end of the day.
that's why you neatly placed your pink burberry scarf around your neck, patting it softly down over your chest with one hand while the other held the application form to volunteer at a library right down the street from your new home.
one you have been visiting for a while now, mostly when you needed to renew your business and law textbooks for school, ones you refused to pay over 500$ for. with one final look in the mirror, you grabbed your umbrella from it's place before heading out the door.
barely anyone helped out at the library because it was family owned. but it had people coming in and out at every hour of the day. so you weren't surprised when a group of people came out the door as soon as you approached it. matcha in hand and earbuds plugged into ears.
performative males.
their earbuds weren't even plugged in and that alone made your eye twitch.
after closing your umbrella, you stepped inside, making your way over to the counter where mrs. gojo usually was. and there the old lady stood, looking through her glasses, scanning books like always.
a smile made it's way on your face. she was the sweetest woman ever, always giving you little stories here and there every time you came in.
"y'know, my hair used to look exactly like yours at your age." she once told you. now, she had a short frizzy pixie, stripped away from her color and has now turned white.
"oh, hello sweetheart!" she happily greeted. mrs. gojo often forgot your name, so she settled with sweet names any granny would call you.
"hi miss." you greeted back, waiting for her to walk around the corner of her desk to give you a hug. "I'm guessing you're out of school, hm?"
"yup, just finished. I'm free, for now at least." she laughed at that. her age may have changed, but her laugh has remained the same.
"what brings you here? you should be out with your friends."
"yeah, well, don't have many of those." you chuckled, handing her your form. "saw on your website that you were needing volunteers, so here I am."
she looked down at the paper confused. "volunteers?.. ah right, right. my grandson," she sighed, shaking her head. "he insists I need more help with running this place but I am telling
him I'm okay. but he posted on our uh google thing that a.. he put up a volunteer sign up."
"he's even helping out as well this summer. I tell him me and him are enough to keep this place going."
you bit the inside of your cheek, a bit bummed out. "so, um, I'm guessing thats a no then?"
"oh! oh no no young missy. I would love for you to work here with us. but I ask you, why here and not hanging out with your friends?"
"I don't really hang out much." you reminded her. "plus, I like being here."
the sweet lady patted your arm, turning to look behind her. "very well then, I'll give this to my boy." you smiled down at her, appreciating the soft feeling of her gentle hand.
"satoru.. where are you honey" she grabbed her walking cane, about to start moving before another white head appeared from behind the shelves.
your eyes widened.
no way was this her grandson.
he's supposed to be eleven, or ten. her stories made it very clear he was anything but your age.
he was wearing a navy blue polo with brown slacks and on his nose bridge laid his black framed glasses that created a barrier for his pretty blue eyes. the same shade as his grandmothers.
your throat dried up. he was handsome, very handsome.
and nowhere near the age you had imagined him to be. her voice snapped you out of your trance. "hi sweet boy, this pretty young lady used the volunteer form. she'd like to work here.." she explained. he gave you a once over, looking you up and down before looking at your application. his eyes skimmed through, adam's apple bobbing as he spoke.
"alright, I'll look at it." his voice was even more attractive. it was low but calm and gentle all at the same time.
mrs. gojo gently smacked him. "she's working with us, application or not, it does not matter."
"sorry granma'am, I need to make sure that she's eligible to-."
"nonsense, I know her. very sweet girl!" she interrupted.
"I'll file it.." he muttered, slipping the application into the folder behind the desk. then he looked up at you, eyes meeting yours.
"welcome, I guess. I'm satoru."
you greeted him with a small smile, giving him your name as well. he let out a small grunt as he stood up straight, walking out to be at the front next to you, noticing how you backed away a bit.
"alright. I'll make you a name badge tomorrow. if you want to start today, you can go back to where the returns are." he nodded towards a bin with a couple of books that were waiting to be checked in and returned back to their place on the shelves.
you nodded, hands clasped together in front of you.
mrs. gojo grinned brightly at the two of you. satoru gave you a brief nod, lips turning into a thin line, before walking past you brushing his shoulder against yours. and you were able to catch the faint scent of cedar and rain making you feel light headed.
"he's shy. must be because you're pretty." she said softly, making your face warm up.
"I've got eyes, you know. he barely talks to anyone other than me or himself. not even to customers."
your eyes flickered over to where the white haired boy had disappeared into. "he'll warm up to you quickly." she gave you a little arm rub and began to hum as she made her way over to a family asking for a membership.
you sure hoped so.
but you hoped wrong.
oh, so wrong.
mrs. gojo's words echoed in your head every day you showed up, praying that satoru would do more than glance your way and shame you for putting the books in the wrong section.
"no, this doesn't go here. I've told you many, many times before the Eschatological literature is all the way in the back. Not with dystopian." he grabbed, or more like snatched, the book from your hands.
"Isn't that kind of the same thing?"
He looked down at you like you had suddenly grown three heads. "Are you stupid?"
Yeah.
He was an asshole.
And when he wasn't whisper yelling at you for a mistake, he was making you do the things he was supposed to.
Like being in charge of the front desk while he took an hour break to study for his Econ class.
"Uh, Satoru? I thought you were doing the check out today." You carefully approached him, not wanting to annoy him in any way.
Satoru's head turned to look to where you stood, adverting his eyes from his computers screen. His eyes traveled up and down your frame, taking in the cute but simple outfit you wore.
God, he just wanted to tear it all up.
He adjusted his glasses, standing up not before closing his device.
"Can't you do that?" He asked.
"Oh, well I'm in charge of putting the books back in place, so.."
"No. Absolutely not."
You frowned. sure you've messed up a couple of times in the past two weeks, but you thought you have gotten the hang of it.
"Just do the check outs and I'll take care of the rest."
His lanky body moved out of the room, giving you the opportunity to let out a frustrated sigh.
You heard his annoying voice once again. "Get to work."
You thought this was supposed to be a nice relaxing way to spend your vacations. A little get away from being pushed around by your parents and peers at school, only to end up in the same situation. But this time by a really good looking boy you just wanted to hit in the face.
"Have a great day.." You forced a happy tone out, handing the customer the book. You were so burnt out you didn't even process properly when said customer hit on you.
"Sorry?" you blinked a few times.
The man stood tall, green eyes on yours and a smile stretched on his face.
"I was saying that you're really beautiful.. and if you'd like to grab coffee some time?"
Never in your many years living in this shit town have you been complimented by such a handsome guy. His muscles were visible even through his brown leather jacket.
"Su-"
"We'd really appreciate it if you wouldn't flirt with our employees."
You've gotta be joking.
You turned to Satoru whose eyes were set on the man who was already backing away.
"My apologies." He politely said, smiling one last time at you before leaving the building.
Satoru watched him leave, internally patting himself on the back proud that he managed to scare him off. No way was he going to let you get any game while he was plotting on you.
Through his glasses, he finally looked at you, only to flinch a little when you looked like you were one second away from biting his head off.
"Seriously? Do you hate me that much? What the hell have I ever done to you other than confuse two fucking genres of books?!"
"Woah, watch your tone. There are kids here, if you haven't noticed."
"No, listen here Satoru. What is your damn deal?"
You were clearly fed up with whatever bullshit he has been pulling.
His eyebrows furrowed, not pleased with the vulgar tone of yours. "It's not appropriate to do that kind of stuff here."
"Since when? Not even a day ago were you getting hit on by a girl!" Yes he was the worst guy you have ever met, but he was very handsome. His face looked like it was built by God himself.
"Now it's a problem?" You scoffed, walking away from him.
There was no emotion visible on his face.
He quickly scanned the library, making sure no one was watching as he followed after you, gently slamming you onto the desk nearby.
Rows of shelves covered you from any eyes, but anyone could walk to where you both were any second.
"What are-" you were cut off when a large hand covered your mouth, the feeling of something hard pressing up against your ass made you freeze.
"You sure are something, huh?" Satoru sighed, giving you a little thrust. "Been wanting to do this since you first showed up. You know how many times my grandma spoke about you? Didn't know you were this pretty."
Your moan was muffled by him, already feeling yourself get wet, which he took notice on.
His free hand traveled down to squeeze your inner thighs, moaning lowly. He's never actually touched a woman like this before. Only learning the ways of sex because of the mature section that was on the second floor, hidden away.
He's read a few pages here and there discreetly when organizing them or when he had to kick teenagers out for treating it like the back of Spencers.
"Fuck.. is this okay?" His cock was about to explode but he really needed to know if you wanted this too. He's seen the way you stared at him when you thought he wasnt noticing. The way your eyes lingered on his arms, especially his hands.
You nodded, whining a 'yes' when he relaxed the hand that was gripping your lower face.
“Good.” He leaned in and kissed the crook of your neck, his lips moving against your warm skin as he whispered moaned in your ear, feeling you through your panties. It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was a hungry one, his tongue tracing the outline of your pulse point, biting down on it.
He watched your face closely, taking in all the little expressions you made after he moved your underwear to the side, teasing your bare cunt. His eyes darkened with lust, wanting to see you completely come undone by his touch.
You had no idea how no one had noticed yet.
The horrid sound of your wet pussy squelching at every movement his fingers did was loud enough to fill the area you were in.
A library was supposed to be quiet by nature, making it an appropriate place to let those who want to study, study in peace.
Not to have sex in the corner. Not at all.
“oh my fuck. your so messy.” His fingers curled hard inside you, thumb playing with your clit in circles to bring you to your orgasm quicker.
He was living for the small noises you made. How you tried your best to be quiet.
"Fuck—“
Satoru pulled back just enough to watch the way you trembled—fingers glistening with your arousal as his free hand yanked his pants down further. He began stroking his cock, continuing working on your cunt.
“Satoru..” you whimpered.
“Yes baby?”
The pet name made you clench harder around his digits.
“Fuck me..” your own words made you cringe. you sounded desperate. because you were.
Satoru lost it—his cock driving into you with brutal precision as he sucked his fingers clean fucking you in tandem until your thighs trembled around his dick.
"Say my name when you cum," he ordered against your neck before sucking hard, the vibrations of his groan making your hips jerk. His free hand pinned yours above your head: "Wanna hear who owns this tight little—fuck!"
He cut off mid-sentence when he felt you clamp down on him.
“where’s you learn how to talk dirty..” you managed to say with the way he was plummeting in and out of you. “and fuck.”
“i’ve got my ways of learning sweetheart.”
He chuckled darkly, biting down on his lip to keep himself quiet.
“gonna cum inside.” He warned.
You nodded, getting dizzy when he hit your g-spot repeatedly.
and that was enough to make you cum.
“Yes.. yes fuck oh my god.”
he released into you, watching as it immediately drip out of you.
“Thank you..”
you smiled weakly up at him. “for taking your virginity?”
“felt like i took yours.” he grinned, helping you put your panties back in place, patting your cunt one more time before tucking himself back in his pants.
“satoru sweetheart? where are you?” Mrs. Gojos voice could be heard.
“shit. forgot we were here.” his eyes widened, watching as his grandma walked in.
She paused in her steps.
“oh! looks like you’ve gotten along. see, told you he’d warm up to you.” she innocently smiled at you, unaware of the reason why you two were even this close to each other in the first place.
“cmon, you’ve gotta help me out with some books.” she turned around, pausing again.
NOTES :: first toji fic do u guys likey, fluff and a bit of angst from toji’s side and comfort from reader, pregnancy (obviously), short drabble, mentions of alcohol and old addictions of gambling, mentions of feet for a foot massages
W/C :: 651
“yeah, i’ve got a kid on the way.” toji smirked smugly, leaning back against a run-down couch in a run-down hiding shelter for guys like him, waiting for his manager -shiu- to get back with his next job.
ryu, a well-known adrenaline junkie in these shady shadows, sat down next to the hunk of muscle. “you? a father?” he snickered.
toji’s eyes narrowed, his fists curling up and his shoulders tensed.
“what’s that meant to mean, bastard?” his gruff voice echoed through the room, chatter from nearby lowering into hushed whispers.
ryu’s lips curled up, a scrawny smile for a sly man. “I’m just saying, the missues ought to be careful with a guy like you.”
before toji could react and give this guy a proper beating, the sound of expensive shoes caught his ears. “zenin, come on. i’ll drop you off.”
the bulky man snarled, ''i've already told you. i took my wife's name.''
now after the mission, getting his pay, he's walking back home. head low.
walking down thinly-lit streets covered in blood that wasn’t his. ryu’s words were stuck in his mind, who does he think he is? he had cash in his pocket, he could easily drink his thoughts away; spend money at some nearby cash grabs that’d make him seem like he had a chance of winning if he just tried again.
the only thing that stopped him was you.
toji hoped you were atleast asleep at this time, he knows how much you begged him to take different jobs. he was made for this. but even a man like him could just never come home one day.
stepping through the door after prying his boots off on the porch, he bolted to the shower and began his ‘cleansing’, as you would call it for dramatic effects.
“tojiii!” your voice squealed happily, busting through the door just as his rough hands wrapped a towel around his waist.
his brows arched, expecting you to be in bed, “mmmh? what’re you doing up, little miss?” after tying the towel, he ruffled your hair.
you giggled, “i was waiting for you. been wanting foot massages.” walking him out of the steamy bathroom and to the bedroom. dim lamps and the tv projecting your favorite show.
toji pulled on light pyjama sweats, old things that’ve been threading at the seams. he got to work at your feet, thick thumbs doing just the right thing. easing cramps and swelling.
moments went by, you could tell your dear husband was thinking about things. and that was never good if he wasn’t chatty beforehand. “honey? is something wrong?” pausing the show, you settled your gaze on him.
“jus’ thinking, ma.” he cleared his throat, a little hoarse from being quiet for a long period of time. “mhm? about? share with the class.” you teased, poking his side with ur foot.
the man let out a sigh, scratching the back of his neck.
“ma, i don’t think ill be the best dad. i don’t want to let you down.” he started, playing and tugging with the bedsheets like a toddler in trouble.
“i’ll keep trying for you, and the bun in the oven.”
your lips trembled, emotional hormones kicking in. “eh?! who said that!” you whined, crawling over to him. “don’t listen to those slackers, they’re the type of people that are lonely snails at home!”
he let out a grunt as you draped yourself over him, his hand instinctively moving up to rub at your swollen stomach.
“they’ll be hearing from me and my foot up their ass for making my little husband feel like that!” nuzzling your cheek against his, toji cracked a smile.
“mhm? yeah?”
“uhuh!”
“now now, baby. i don’t know about little husband…” toji propped his head up in his hand, a brow raised in interest.
you shushed him, “well i don’t care. big, small, you’re still my husband.”
“damn right i am.”
2 months later, baby megumi is introduced to the world.
a/n :: rlly short, testing the waters and not proofread </3
(inspired by a comment from @l-lailiy on this post)
dadbod!toji who begins to track your menstrual cycle in hopes that it will help him increase your chances of getting pregnant.
"you late yet?"
"toji its not going to happen that quick." you snort. He's been so consistent in asking that question ever since the night he begged you to have his second child.
"I know, you were ovulating tho weren't ya?"
"yes—wait—how did you know?"
"you were horny." he says it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. like you two haven't been going at it like a bunch a feral dogs for the past two weeks.
you raise a brow at the large man as he continues cooking without a care in the world.
"I've also been—uh—tracking yer' thing."
you shoot him a look as he places your breakfast in front of you and gently takes the baby from your grasp.
"you're tracking my menstrual cycle?" you giggle.
he grunts and places the baby in the highchair, "you laughin' at me mama?"
you can't help the giddy smile that’s forming on your face as you watch toji carefully strap the baby in and place small pieces of egg on the table of the highchair, "im not, that's kinda hot actually."
dadbod!toji who looks for any signs you might be pregnant, praying that your period comes late this time. and when it does come late, he immediately hands you multiple pregnancy tests just to make sure.
dadbod!toji who practically smothers you with kisses when the tests both read positive. you could’ve swore he was only kissing your neck to hide the fact that there may or may not have been tears in his eyes.
“I fuckin’ love you.”
“I love you too, you big crybaby.”
dadbod!toji who treats you as if you’re made entirely out of glass, doing everything he possibly can to make your life easier.
tired? he’s out taking the baby for a walk so you can sleep peacefully. he claims it’s better for him anyways since he’ll likely be gaining more weight after you have your second child.
hungry? hes already up cooking breakfast for you and the baby, in nothing but a pair of boxers and an apron that quite literally has no purpose as it fails to cover anything.
stressed out? he’s already running you a warm bath and calling up shiu to see if he can babysit for the day.
dadbod!toji heard something about sex being good during pregnancy online, and just ran with it. it gave him an excuse to fuck you almost every night during your pregnancy, not that he needed an excuse to put you through a mattress anyways.
dadbod!toji recognizes and loves how sensitive your body has become, it was amusing to him how easily you came just by the flick of his tongue on your nipples. it didn't matter to him that he couldn't be as rough with you as he usually was, he could get off to just seeing you cum for him for the fourth time within twenty minutes.
dadbod!toji who loves when you practically drowning in his sweats and t-shirts since none of your clothes fit you anymore. his favorite thing is seeing the outline of your baby bump through his t- shirt.
dadbod!toji who is there for you through every step of your pregnancy, keeping a watchful eye on you to make sure your pregnancy is as tranquil as possible.
this also means that he never fails to notice the changes you experience, and though you're grateful for it, you kinda wished he didn't pay such close attention. especially since your body was changing so much.
yes your body changed a lot during your first pregnancy, but that was expected. this time around, you didn't expect how drastically different your second pregnancy would be.
you couldn't help but notice how much weight you had gained in such a short period of time, the new stretch marks that had formed on your stomach as well as your breasts, and how miserable it felt to move around with how swollen your feet had become. and toji noticed all of it.
dadbod!toji who notices you've been avoiding being as intimate with him, which he didn't mind, he knew that pregnancy wasn't easy and you were often exhausted. it wasn't until he caught the sight of your teary eyes the slight pout on your lips one night after putting the baby to sleep, he immediately folded up beside you in bed.
“what’s wrong hm?”
“I look so different.”
the feeling of his rough calloused hands wiping away your tears brought comfort to you.
“yeah you got even sexier.”
“toji I’m being serious.”
“so am I.”
you sniffle and turn away, which he finds absolutely adorable.
“you don’t get it.”
dadbod!toji who interrupts your sulking by trailing kisses down the back of your neck, his hands sliding over your swollen belly, as he presses himself against your backside.
“nah babe, I don’t think you get it.” he says between the kisses he trails down from your neck, across your shoulders and collarbones.
your turn your head and shoot him a puzzled look, the pout still on your lips.
“you don’t understand how hard it is for me to hold myself back from you my love. god these hips, callin' my fucking name.” he whispers lowly in your ear, squeezing the plushness that had developed on your hips.
“your thighs, practically beggin’ for me to put my head between em’, and your tits—fuck—" your breath hitches as he runs a hand under your shirt and cups one of your breasts, his fingers softly brushing over your nipples in the process, " these beautiful tits, all swollen and full of milk.”
“and seeing this belly, seeing you, carrying my child,” he guides his hands back down to your belly, caressing you gently with his hands.
“you look like a goddess. I could sit and look at you for fuckin’ hours mama.” he mumbles into your lips before kissing them gently.
dadbod!toji who gently fucks you to bed that night, showing you just how much he loves your body.
dadbod!toji who you could swear you saw tearing up in the delivery room after the doctor announced that you gave birth to a healthy baby girl.
safe to assume he would definitely need to be picking up extra shifts to make sure his girls stay spoiled, even if it means he'd have to .
we're almost at 1k!!! y'all loved the dadbod toji sm so ofc I had to make another one, I also love domestic toji so this was fun to write lol. shoutout to all my chubby/plus size girls, and shout out to all the mamas ofc :3
synopsis: a series of short drabbles of jjk men as fathers (toji, gojo, geto, choso, nanami, sukuna, higuruma)
wc: 2k- fluff, domestic fluff, crack
toji fushiguro - the complainer yet secret sap
toji wasn’t exactly father of the year, but you applauded his efforts to at least try.
he was even worse when megumi was an infant, not wanting to change his diapers, looking like he wanted to die internally when megumi threw up on him, groaning when you forced him to come shopping with you for new clothes that megumi definitely didnt need–the poor babies closet was already brimming at the seams, and he would grow out of half those clothes in like…two days.
but he had his moments.
the glimpse where you could see fatherhood tugging on his heartstrings, before he realized and quickly shook it off again
he’d let megumi boss him around when he insisted on reading dr. suess “one fish two fish, red fish blue fish,” the thing toji swore was modern torture wrapped into a children's book. megumi would force toji to assign a different voice to each character–yes, that includes each damn fish. but what made it worse was this wasn’t a one-time thing–oh no, it was weekly.
or the times when you’d come home to find toji knocked out on the couch, the muted sports game still playing on the tv, and megumi cradled against his chest, face buried into toji’s neck.
but most recently, when megumi had his first little league baseball game. you were wearing a t-shirt with megumi’s chubby toddler face plastered onto it, holding a handmade sign—that you forced toji to help you make–which read, “#15 was born to score” in huge bold letters and baseball drawings.
toji acted as if he didn’t want to be there, groaning the whole drive, and complaining about how early the games were for literal six-year-olds. yet once you were in the stands, screaming to your lungs and the game had finally come to a close, you could’ve sworn you saw a smirk forming on his lips when megumi was named the team's mvp.
he was such a sap, despite trying to hide it.
satoru gojo - the additional child...
sometimes you wondered what on god’s green earth convinced you to have a child with saturo. despite the obvious reasons…satoru was nothing but a huge kid himself, and after having not one…but two with him, you were beginning to realize that.
he was currently on the couch, jumping up and down at his big age with your three-year-old son and seven-year-old daughter. the two had insisted on having a jumping competition to see who could go the longest. your son had long tapped out, the poor tot's legs giving out as soon as the others started jumping, so they secretly didn't count him for the competition any longer.
satoru and your daughter were still going, holding hands as they bounced and squealed with laughter, wreaking havoc on your mind you–brand new couch!
“babe! come over here, i’m about to beat her!” satoru panted between laughs, your daughter gasped in mock horror, “no, daddy’s cheating! he’s too big!”
satoru paused without even realizing it, causing your daughter to squeal with victory! “hah! you fell for it, loserrrr!”
with a dramatic gasp and hand clenched over his chest satoru flopped back onto the carpeted floor with a hard thump and groan.
“she’s killed me…” he croaked weakly, acting as if he’d really died, “that little grimlin called me a loser…”
you sighed helplessly, picking up your son as he babbled in your ear something about if his dad was actually hurt, but you were too busy watching as your daughter hopped off the couch to jump on satoru's stomach, shouting more smug comments about her victory.
that was definitely his kid.
suguru geto - the ultimate girl dad
suguru was a girl dad, through and through. he spoiled your twins rotten. they wanted the newest toys? they got it. stuffed animals at the fair? snatched. and you were already dreading the day your ten-year-olds finally became pre-teens. he was going to spend half of his life savings.
when both the girls got honors awards at their school's ceremonies, there he was in the crowd. standing beside you with the proudest smile and twinkle in his eyes. recording the moment to cherish for later. they had him wrapped around their fingers.
he wasn’t this sappy until you had them; it was like a light switched inside him, and he’d discovered his life’s purpose.
don’t get me wrong, he didn’t let them get away with just anything. he had his moments where he’d have to discipline them firmly but gently. or teaching them about responsibilities. each time, you could see the pain etched into his features.
and god help you when they needed new clothes, they’d drag you both to the nearest mall and spend nearly a fortune. but suguru would never complain, not even looking bothered when the cashier hesitantly read back the triple digits for the payment.
he enjoyed spoiling them rotten, making sure they’d never need. hell he’d probably buy them disneyland if they ask.
plus, he just liked seeing them both come out of the fitting rooms, wide matching grins on their faces while they ignored you and asked him specifically what he thought of their matching dresses.
daddy’s girls.
nanami kento - the forever daddy's little girl
nanami was a completely helpless sap for your daughter. and she was the same for him.
in fact, she was possessive of him.
there was one time she spotted you both sharing a secret makeout while cooking dinner, and instantly began throwing a crying fit. insisting that you were trying to steal her daddy away from her. when you could’ve sworn he was yours first…
or the time when nanami was away at work, and it was just you both lounging in bed. you rolled over with a soft smile and asked the splitting image of nanami, but with your hair color and eyes, “baby, who do you like more? mama or dada?”
“dada.”
you blinked.
she didn’t even hesitate, like the answer should’ve been obvious in and of itself. her chubby little arms crossed, and an unimpressed look on her face.
you almost wanted to be hurt by it. but you already had your suspicions.
and most recently, when she finally started kindergarten, nanami insisted on being the one to pick her up.
she walked out the doors, beaming brightly once she spotted him in the line of waiting parents. he mirrored her expression, the biggest grin on his lips before he saw it.
or rather, him.
time felt as if it moved in slow motion.
a little boy from her class held her hand. and not in a friendly way. nanami knew that look.
the kid had a crush… he was crushing on Nanami's daughter.
he nearly had a stroke then and there.
that night in bed, his bedside lamp only lit the room whilst you both were busy doing your own things, he was reading a book, you were scrolling through netflix for something new to watch.
he was trying his best not to say anything. not to bring up earlier.
but he couldn’t even read one sentence of his novel.
with a heavy sigh, he pulled off his glass, smushing a hand down his face before turning to you.
“love…” he began hesitantly, “i think our daughter has a boyfriend."
you nearly choked on your spit, eyes bugging out as you turned to him.“a what?!”
“my princess has already been corrupted by the male population on her first day…”
choso kamo - world's best father
choso was meant to be a father. that much was obvious with how he cared for you prior to the kids. the way he was gentle and soft with you like it was a reflex. sometimes you contemplated if he’d give birth to them if it were possible.
anytime your son came rushing back home with a new drawing or craft from school, choso happily added it to the overflowing collection.
he wouldn’t dare to ever throw any of them away. not even when the kitchen drawer specifically dedicated to them was overflowing.
instead, he just compromised by putting even more around the house. framed in pictures down the halls, stuck down with magnets on the fridge, and on his bedside table.
hell, he’d even show them to anyone who’d give him the time of day.
he loved when it was bedtime, tucking your son into bed and reading him stories until he fell asleep. or when your son would rush into your room while you both slept, insisting choso fought off the “monster” lurking underneath his bed.
when your son lost his first tooth, choso cherished the milestone with a damn cake and a small celebration party with just the three of you.
he loved being a father. that much was clear.
and when you found out you were soon to be expecting a little girl, choso nearly exploded with excitement. already vowing to create a whole new drawer for her creations when she was old enough to make them.
he was so adorable you almost forgot how he mentioned wanting enough to make a soccer team one day…wait, no, you weren’t that swooned.
yet.
sukuna ryomen - a mothers worst nightmare
sukuna was a complete mess when it came to parenting at first. he complained when you corrected him, fussed about everything, referred to the kid as your spawn, and all around didn’t understand the point of buying a hundred things for a kid who couldn’t care less.
he wasn’t wrong about that.
your son didn’t care. not for toys, not for video games, not for much of anything.
but there was one thing they had in common. they loved creating pure chaos.
on nights you were already long asleep, sukuna would slip into his son's room, and they’d both devise their plans for the next day.
whether it be sukuna teaching your preteen the best way to skip class without getting caught, how to make girls swoon over him for merely breathing, how to blackmail teachers into giving him better grades on his report card, or how to slap the hell out of any kid who tried him, sukuna was more than happy to conspire.
they were like devious twins.
one day, you and sukuna were on the couch, he was manspread with your leg hooked between his, head on his chest, and watching a movie—that he definitely was half paying attention to, but “watched” for your sake.
then the front door flung open, your son walking in casually.
as soon as you saw him, you nearly screamed in horror.
the once fresh white tee now sprinkled with blood. his hair was a wild mess as if someone tried to fist it, scuffs on his jaw and cheeks, and a busted lip to top everything off.
his gaze followed both of yours to his shirt before chuckling, “oh, don't worry mom, it’s not mine. you should see the other kid. i beat his ass good, dad.”
you gasped, short-circuiting before you could manage a, “oh my go–language!”
while sukuna just leaned back, his arm draped over your shoulders, wearing a smug grin, “that’s my spawn, nicely done, brat."
“sukuna!”
hiromi higuruma - the cognitive supporting father
higuruma wasn’t exactly an affectionate father. well, not in the ways most would think. it wasn’t that he wasn’t affectionate; he just didn’t know how to be.
he didn’t bother with much physical touch, gifts, or quality time since he was busy with legal cases most of the time.
but one thing he was good at was teaching your son wisdom and acts of service.
he would stay up late nights with him to help him work on his math and science assignments–especially loving it whenever history was on the agenda for the night. other times, he’d have deep conversations with him about life, wanting to know anything that was on the boy's mind.
he never judged, tried to give solutions, or made a face; he simply listened.
there were times he’d put a hand on his shoulder when he was proud of him, or into a rare tight hug. more often than not, he’d give him a genuine nod of approval with a small, “i'm proud of you.”
most times, they’d just bond in complete silence. in their own worlds, while they enjoyed each other's presence. it was a mutual understanding they had.
something that was just for them.
higuruma would sometimes talk to him about his job, and your son even began wanting to go into the law field, seeing how dedicated his father was.
he looked up to him, really.
but would he ever tell higuruma? nope.
and higuruma deeply loved his son, but never felt the need to say it verbally often, either.
like father, like son.
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papa!kuna overhears your son's friends making comments about you and decides to remind them very quickly whose house they’re in.
the kitchen is warm with the quiet clatter of dishes and the soft hum of the refrigerator. sunlight spills through the window above the sink, lighting the counter where you’re slicing fruit and setting out small bowls.
from the living room comes the chaotic noise of a video game. shouting, laughing, the rapid clicking of controllers.
your son has friends over again. you lean slightly around the corner, raising your voice just enough to be heard over the tv.
“what do you guys want for lunch?”
“gyudon!” one of them calls instantly.
another groans. “not gyudon again, man.”
“burgers,” someone else says. “burgers would be good.”
your son sighs loudly. “anything but rice.”
you laugh under your breath and wipe your hands on a towel.
“okay. burgers it is. i need to grab a few things from the store though.” you slip your shoes on near the door. “i’ll be right back.”
a distracted chorus of “okay” and “yeah” follows you as you step outside and shut the door behind you.
the house settles into the background noise of the game. on the screen, characters run across a battlefield. one of the boys leans back against the couch and stretches his arms.
“your mom’s fine as fuck”
your son barely reacts at first, eyes still on the screen.
another boy snorts. “yeah, seriously.”
a third laughs quietly. “no wonder your dad is always on her.”
that gets a few chuckles.
“i mean, i get it,” one of them continues, glancing toward the kitchen even though you are gone. “if my wife looked and had a body like that i wouldn’t leave her alone either.”
your son’s character stops moving. the sound of the game continues but his controller slowly lowers in his hands. he turns his head.
“yo,” he says.
his voice is calm but tight around the edges.
“watch the way you’re talking about my mom.”
one of the boys shrugs. “what? it was a compliment.”
“it didn’t sound like one.”
the room grows quiet for a moment. then the front door opens. none of them notice at first. heavy footsteps move through the entryway. a tall figure stops at the edge of the living room.
“cut what out?”
the voice is deep. low. all four boys freeze. they turn their heads.
sukuna stands there, broad shoulders filling the doorway, one hand resting lazily against the frame. his expression is calm but his eyes are sharp in a way that makes the air feel suddenly heavier. “repeat it,” he says quietly.
no one speaks.
your son shifts uncomfortably. the other boys stare at the floor. sukuna’s gaze moves across them slowly.
“i asked a question.”
one of the boys finally mutters, “it was nothing, sir.”
sukuna steps into the room. each step is unhurried, controlled. “nothing,” he repeats. he stops beside the couch, looking down at them.
“i heard enough.”
his voice never rises, which somehow makes it worse.
“you’re in my house. sitting on my furniture. eating my food.” his eyes narrow slightly. “and you think it’s acceptable to talk about my wife like that?”
the boys shake their heads quickly.
“no, sir.”
sukuna studies them for a moment, then speaks again.
“let me make something very clear.” the room feels smaller.
“you don’t speak about women like that. not in my house. not anywhere if you have any sense in your heads.”
one of the boys swallows.
“she is my wife. she is the mother of my child.” sukuna’s gaze flicks briefly toward his son before returning to the others. “show some respect.”
“yes, sir.”
“understood?”
a chorus of nervous agreement fills the room. “yes mr. ryomen”
sukuna exhales slowly through his nose, irritation still clear in his expression. “good.”
right then the front door opens again.
“wait,” your voice calls from the entryway. “i forgot my wallet.” you step inside, already reaching for the counter where you left it. as you walk into the living room you notice the silence immediately. four boys sitting stiffly.
sukuna standing in front of them like a statue. you blink.
“what happened in here?”
your son looks like he wants to disappear into the couch. sukuna glances at you. the sharpness in his expression softens just slightly.
“nothing important,” he says.
you look between them again, suspicious but not pushing it. “...okay.”
you grab your wallet and head back toward the door. “i’ll actually be right back this time. don’t destroy the house while i’m gone.”
one of the boys practically salutes. “yes ma’am.” the door closes behind you. the boys slowly look back at sukuna. he is still staring at them.
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