synopsis — a new student joins babysitter’s club winning over the kids and unknowingly, Kamitani’s heart
word count — 1.4k
a/n — I NEED SEASON TWO OF SCHOOL BABYSITTERS ITS SO GOODDDDDD
The first semester of high school had barely begun when a new student transferred into the school from the United States.
y/n, full of warmth and energy, had barely stepped onto campus before she found herself drawn to the Babysitter’s Club. The moment she heard about it, she signed up without hesitation.
Her love for children was evident from the start. The little ones in the daycare adored her instantly, drawn to her gentle voice and kind smile.
Kotaro Kashima was the first to cling to her, silently reaching for her hand whenever she was near.
Taka Kamitani, on the other hand, was more outspoken, always demanding her attention and grinning whenever she praised him.
Kirin, the energetic girl, constantly wanted to play with her, while Takuma and Kazuma, the cutest twins, one always energetic and one always shy.
Even baby Midori, the youngest of them all, cooed happily whenever y/n held her.
Ryuuichi Kashima, the responsible and kind-hearted member of the club, welcomed her warmly. “It’s nice to have another person here to help out,” he said, smiling.
Usaida, the lazy caretaker, merely waved from his spot on the couch. “Great, another person to do my job for me,” he mumbled, grinning playfully.
y/n had already made herself at home in the Babysitter’s Club when she finally met the last member—Hayato Kamitani.
That afternoon, the door to the Babysitter’s Club room slid open, revealing a tall boy with short black hair, his baseball bag slung over his shoulder.
His posture was relaxed, his expression as uninterested as ever, but when his sharp eyes landed on the unfamiliar girl sitting among the children, they lingered for a second longer than usual.
The room was lively with the sounds of laughter and chatter. Y/N sat cross-legged on the floor, carefully stacking colorful wooden blocks with Kotaro, who watched with quiet fascination, his tiny hands reaching out to place another block. Just beside them, Takuma and Kazuma were racing toy cars across the floor, the younger twin mimicking his brother’s words with a slight delay.
“Kazuma, we’re going super fast!” Takuma declared, pushing his car forward dramatically.
“super fast…” Kazuma echoed hesitantly, gripping his car tightly as he followed Takuma’s lead.
Meanwhile, Kirin was bouncing excitedly beside y/n, tugging at her sleeve. “y/n, y/n! After this, let’s play house! You can be the mom, and I’ll be the big sister!”
Taka, not wanting to be left out, crossed his arms. “No way, y/n should be my partner in cops and robbers!”
“Cops and robbers!” Takuma echoed softly, nodding in agreement with his brother.
Midori, the youngest of the group, sat quietly in Y/N’s lap, happily chewing on a plush rabbit while observing the lively conversation around her.
y/n let out a soft laugh, glancing between the children. “One at a time, guys! We can play all the games, I promise.”
Just as she reassured them, the sound of the sliding door caught her attention. Looking up, she found herself staring at the boy who had just entered. His gaze met hers, and for a moment, the noise in the room seemed to fade.
“Oh, you’re that new transfer student,” Kamitani remarked, raising an eyebrow.
y/n blinked at him before offering a bright smile. “Yeah, that’s me! And you must be Kamitani, right? I’ve heard about you from your brother.”
At her words, Taka, who had been standing beside her, smirked. “She’s my favorite now, Nii-chan.”
Kamitani let out a sigh, stepping further into the room and ruffling his younger brother’s hair roughly. “Figures.”
Kotaro, who had been quietly observing, tugged on Y/N’s sleeve, his big eyes peering up at her. “Y/N,” he mumbled softly, as if confirming her name.
Kamitani merely huffed, his expression neutral. But as he watched Y/N interact so effortlessly with the kids—especially his little brother—he couldn’t help but feel something unfamiliar settle in his chest. He wasn’t sure what it was, but as he caught the genuine warmth in her smile, he had a feeling this new transfer student was going to be sticking around for a while.
Over the next few weeks, Y/N became a regular presence in the Babysitter’s Club, always doting on the children and making them laugh.
Kamitani, while not overly expressive, found himself watching her more than he realized. He liked how patient she was, even when they were causing chaos, and he respected how easily she could handle Taka’s stubbornness.
What he didn’t expect, however, was his brother’s boldness one particular afternoon.
The kids were playing while y/n, Ryuuichi, and Kamitani were seated on the floor, chatting about school. Taka, who had been quiet for some time, suddenly stood up and pointed at his older brother.
“Hey, y/n,” Taka announced loudly, “you should date my brother!”
The room went silent.
y/n’s eyes widened as she processed what he had just said. Ryuuichi choked on air, eyes darting between them, while Kamitani sat frozen, his usual uninterested mask cracking as his ears turned red.
Kamitani quickly smacked his younger brother on the head—not too hard, but enough to make Taka yelp. “Shut up, brat.”
Taka pouted, rubbing his head. “What? You like her, don’t you?”
Kamitani scowled. “That’s not—” He stopped himself, suddenly feeling self-conscious. y/n was still sitting beside him, and he could feel her gaze on him.
y/n, who had recovered from the initial shock, giggled. “That’s sweet of you, Taka.” She then looked at Kamitani, her expression amused. “I guess you’re popular even with your brother.”
“Tch. Annoying,” Kamitani muttered, but he didn’t deny anything.
From that day on, Ryuuichi and the others started paying closer attention, picking up on how Kamitani’s eyes lingered on y/n a little longer than usual, or how he always made sure she wasn’t overwhelmed with the kids.
They all knew he wasn’t the type to openly express feelings, but something was definitely there.
And then came Valentine’s Day.
That morning, Kamitani was met with a crowd of girls in front of his classroom.
“Hayato-kun! I made these chocolates for you!”
“Please accept mine, too!”
“I put a lot of effort into this—”
Kamitani barely glanced at them, hands stuffed in his pockets. “I don’t like chocolate,” he muttered flatly before walking past them, leaving the girls visibly deflated.
His classmates, however, weren’t about to let it go.
“Damn, Kamitani, you’re cold.”
“You just rejected all of them in one sentence.”
“Brutal.”
Kamitani ignored them. Valentine’s Day had never meant much to him anyway. That is, until a certain someone showed up.
During lunch, y/n entered his classroom, carrying a small bag in her hands. Kamitani blinked when she stopped in front of his desk, smiling at him.
“Happy Valentine’s,” she said, holding out the bag. “I made some chocolates for the kids too, but I wanted to give yours separately.”
Kamitani stared at the bag for a moment before taking it. “…Thanks.” Unlike earlier, he didn’t reject it. His classmates, who had witnessed the scene, immediately erupted into chaos.
“Wait, he accepted it?!”
“He just told all the other girls no, but he took hers?!”
“Kamiiii-taniii~”
Kamitani scowled at them. “Shut up.”
That afternoon, after school, he found himself standing outside the Babysitter’s Club room, gripping a small paper bag. He exhaled sharply before stepping inside.
As expected, y/n was there, playing with Midori while the others chattered. She turned when he entered, smiling as usual. “Hey, Kamitani—”
Before she could finish, he shoved the bag into her hands.
She blinked, looking down at the neatly wrapped chocolates and a small bouquet of flowers. “Oh… is this for me?”
Kamitani clicked his tongue, looking away. “Obviously.”
The room fell into silence. Then—
“NO WAY.”
The kids and Ryuuichi gawked, while even Usaida sat up in shock. Taka, who had been watching closely, grinned widely. “See! I told you he likes her!”
Kamitani groaned. “Taka, I swear—”
y/n giggled, shaking her head before stepping closer to Kamitani. She held the flowers carefully before leaning up and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.
Kamitani’s entire face turned red.
The room exploded.
Ryuuichi was speechless, Usaida was laughing, and the kids were either screaming or giggling.
Kamitani, still processing what had just happened, groaned into his hands. “I hate all of you.”
y/n only smiled, hugging the flowers to her chest. “Thanks, Kamitani. I really like them.”
And just like that, Valentine’s Day became a little more special.
fem caleb just eating u out until u cum soooooo many timesss and pass out but she’s still got your pussy stuck onto her mouth like a pacifier with the way she doesn’t wanna let go. just rolling hee tongue lazily on that pretty clit for hours and hours… cant get enough of her sweet meimei. she loves it even more when u sometimes slip out of your slumber to pat at her head and mutter nonsense while squirming.
her grip is tight and you can feel her biceps flex underneath your thighs which only makes you gush more for her
— caleb finds he cums embarrassingly quickly when he sees how he looks in you.
— (slight) size kink, inexperienced caleb & reader, pathetic dirty talk, pathetic pervert caleb!!!!!!!! pathetic pervert reader!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! kiiinda fluffy at the end? a bit angsty-feely too?? as fluffy-feely as my freaktivities can be???
The first time Caleb sees your tummy bulge full of him, he stills. The nights he'd spent jerking off to the thought of you (with your panties pressed against his nose) pale in comparison to the real thing — his cock, lodged into your pussy, the outline of his tip just barely peeking through your skin. He can't take his eyes off it, transfixed by both the feel and look of you around him.
He stares for so long that you begin to feel impatient, whining softly and grinding your hips down. "Caleb..." Yet even that small movement from you has the bulge in your stomach shifting slightly, a choked moan leaving his lips at the sight. Though lost in the heat of the moment, the neediness in your tone does not escape him and he shakes himself out of his trance, his hand trailing up from your thigh to press on your stomach. "...Yeah, pips?"
When you glance down, you finally realize just why he was in such a daze. the tip of his cock barely visible beneath your skin drawing a surprised whimper from you. Your eyes flick between your best friend and the impression of him in you, the sigh utterly intoxicating. "Ca-Caleb...he's peeking out at me..."
That's all it takes for Caleb's honeyed tone to go darker, a raspy growl now evident in his tone. "Mhm. That's...me right there, pips." He thrusts shallowly at first, eyes flicking down, watching with fascination as his cock shifts beneath your skin, a whimper catching in his throat at the sight. “Fuck, baby look that’s me- fuck- baby, I ah-!"
He loses himself in the warmth as his body presses against yours. Slowly, he begins to move, his rhythm building with each thrust. And he tries — he really tries to hold on.
But the sight of his cock pushing up against the soft skin of your belly has Caleb's mind unraveling like a cat clawing at a ball of yarn. Every slow thrust, every squeeze of your walls around him, makes the bulge in you shift. It's a visible, undeniable reminder that he’s buried so deep inside you there’s nowhere else for him to go.
His breath is ragged, each roll of his hips getting sloppier as the heat in his body quickly overwhelms him. His forehead stays pressed to yours, eyes half-lidded, glassy, and completely lost in you.
“Baby, I- You feel so fucking good.” His voice cracks into moans, wrecked and desperate, his fingers twitching against your waist as he fights to hold on.
Fuck, he's close. Too close. He's supposed to be in control. Supposed to pace himself. But the way your warmth engulfs him, how your tight little hole pulses and pulls him deeper, shatters any semblance of restraint.
You feel it too. The way he trembles above you, his body taut like a fraying wire. Every shaky exhale, every hitched breath, every needy little sound that slips past his lips, they all tell you how he’s on the edge. The knowledge that he's losing himself, falling apart because of you, sends heat flooding through your body.
Involuntarily, you clench around him, and his reaction is instant. A strangled, breathy “oh fuck-” chokes past him as his hips stutter against yours. You roll your hips in response, and Caleb fucking gasps for air at the sight of the bulge shifting beneath your skin, his grip on you tightening as if you were the only thing tethering him to reality.
The two of you were in the same sinking boat, breaths and moans mingling as the aching need for release quickly overtakes the both of you, the harsh thrusts and helpless moans spilling from Caleb's lips tightening that coil in your stomach. "Pl-Please Caleb-"
The strained breathlessness in your voice has him crumbling, his rhythm getting sloppier as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, voice thick with something fragile. "I know, baby, I know- Fuck, just-" His words get cut off you pulsate around him, the tight heat of you making his mind short-circuit. "S-So close- just give it to me, please please please-"
His hands move on instinct, an overwhelming ache leading one to over your stomach to press down and feel himself inside you. The moment the pressure registers on his cock, his mind blanks and so does he—wave after wave of cum pulsing into you as he shakes and whines, hips desperately meeting yours as he chases his high.
The shocks of his orgasm run through him, his mind blank and overwhelmed, nothing left but the feeling of you wrapped around him, milking him through his high. His lashes flutter, breath hitching as he shivers, everything is too hot, too good, too much.
The feeling of his hips stilling against yours and his cum flowing into you has your stomach tightening, the pleasure cresting fast, and then you're gone. Ecstasy slams into you with a force that has you crying out, your body going rigid as you spasm around him.
You're both left trembling, wide-eyed and flushed and locked onto each other's gazes as you process what just happened. Caleb then slumps against you, your bodies spent and trembling, his voice soft as he nuzzles back into your neck. "....Fuck. 'M sorry, baby."
His cock stays nestled deep, twitching with oversensitivity, trapped in you. He’s panting into your skin, and you reach out to push away the hair that had fallen into his face. "Don't be," you murmur softly, feeling your cheeks heat up at the sudden after-intimacy of the moment.
Caleb's voice was quiet, a layer of insecurity lying below the surface. "I didn't expect- I barely lasted-"
You soothe him with a soft hush, running your fingers through his hair and cupping the base of his neck. "That doesn't matter, baby. It was still perfect. You were perfect." You press a soft, lingering kiss to his temple, noticing how he's still slightly stiff and you run your hands down his spine, tracing slow, reassuring patterns on his back.
He shivers at the contact, looking up at you like a puppy seeking reassurance. Before he could say anything else, you tighten your grip, squeezing at his skin and pulling him closer. “You made me feel incredible. It doesn’t have to be some long, drawn-out thing. You know we’re both….new to this.”
“But I….” He huffs slightly, finally relaxing into your touch and letting it ground him. “You…You mean that, pipsqueak?”
You smile, gently nudging your nose against his head. “‘Course I do. Besides, if you liked seeing me that full ‘f you, means we’ll have to go again.” Leaning in even closer, your warm breath ghosts over his ear. “You know you’re still hard in me, right?”
Caleb groans softly, shifting on top of you, his cock twitching against the walls of your cunt. His lips graze your skin, his breath hot and uneven. "Do you think- Do you think you can take another round?"
You adjust yourself slightly, just enough to tease him deeper into you. "I can take whatever you want to give me, you know that.”
“You horrible tease.” Despite his words, Caleb breaks out into a light snicker, fighting back the groan and the desire re-capturing his gut to have a few more moments of this sweetness. He finally pulls himself out of your neck, looking at you with that lovesick, dazed expression that’s always made your heart skip.
How fratboy sukuna changes after soft!reader and him are togetherᥫ᭡.
Frat king.
That’s what they called him, some still do, the title used to live under his skin, when the neon lights beamed off the walls, and girls were hanging off his arms while that smirk cut through the haze like a sharp blade. Attention was easy and addictive.
For a while it served him, it was enough.
The parties still happen, red cups are still littered everywhere, his frat bros still chant his name while he walks into the house late, broad shoulders filling up the doorway, posture still showing
but he doesn’t bask in it anymore. It doesn’t give him that rush, which used to fill his veins.
Because now,
The king has been conquered,
By you.
And the worst part? He almost lost you before, He makes sure that it never happens again.
He works on it everyday since you got together, who would have thought sukuna would change in such ways.
He’s attentive in a way that almost feels unreal once you know who he used to be.
Sukuna notices everything now.
Not just the big things either. Not just the obvious , but tiny things. The kind of details people only catch when they’re looking at someone carefully, constantly.
He notices when your smile starts looking tired instead of happy. Notices when you get quiet in crowded rooms and instinctively shifts closer, big hand settling against your lower back like an anchor. Notices when you’re picking at your nails too much and silently pulls your hands into his lap to stop you.
You mention liking a snack once and suddenly the kitchen is stocked with it.
You say your shoulders hurt after studying and he’s behind you ten minutes later, rubbing slow pressure into the knots without saying a word.
You get cold easily, so his hoodies start appearing around you before you even ask. That’s been a thing since the first time you wore his hoodie that night. Draped over your shoulders at parties. Left folded on your dorm chair. Tossed at your face with a muttered, “Put it on before you start shivering.”
And the thing is, he remembers.
Everything.
The old Sukuna forgot names by morning. Forgot conversations five minutes after having them. But with you? He remembers your coffee order, your exam dates, the movie that made you cry when you were twelve, the fact you hate sleeping angry because it makes your chest hurt.
He listens now, really does, because he learned the hard way what happens when he doesn’t.
Sometimes you catch him watching you during parties.
Not in the arrogant way he used to look at people, like they existed for his entertainment. His eyes are softer now, With Fondness. Almost disbelieving.
Like he still can’t fully process that you chose to stay after seeing the ugliest parts of him.
And Sukuna repays that trust with devotion.
By making sure you eat when you forget.
By charging your dead phone before you notice.
By walking on the outside of the sidewalk without thinking about it.
By memorizing your moods like they’re coursework he refuses to fail again.
By getting you notes when you miss a class because he knows you work hard.
He’d rather carve tenderness into his own bones than ever be the reason your eyes lose that softness again.
Yeah, Sukuna wouldn’t have it any other way ᥫ᭡.
note: this is just whatever, just wanted to write something <3
fluff! just zayne being unable to sleep without you by his side, he's very lover boy coded here hehe
it's seven a.m. on a saturday and the other side of the bed of the bed is cold. zayne sleepily extends his arm out, but is met with silk sheets. taking in a few deep breaths in, he counts to ten in hopes that you come back.
but after five, he feels the sleepiness worsen. there is one problem: he can't sleep without you by his side. groggy, he lifts up the blanket covers and slips on his fluffy slippers, making his way to the kitchen where he hopes he will be able to find you.
you stand with your back to him, stirring sugar into your camomile tea. he drags his feet against the floorboards, his arms encircling around your waist as he rests his head on top of yours.
“your side of the bed was cold without you by my side, darling. come back to bed with me, please?” he complains, snuggling closer into you.
“i'm so sorry, my love. i only wanted to make some tea to help me fall back asleep.” you place your warm hands over his arms, soothing him.
“hm,” he hums, nodding without saying anything else, clearly ready to go back to bed with you.
“let's go back to bed.” you gently remove his arms off your waist but are met with a slight whimper of disapproval from zayne. “just for a minute, my love. i need to carry the mug back to bed and then i'm all yours, okay?”
you lead the way, with your boyfriend drowsily following behind. settling into the bed, zayne happily slips under the covers, looking at you with pleading eyes as he waits for you to finish your tea.
the tea is slightly hot, but you don't let it show. drinking this tea in slight discomfort is the least of your worries whilst your hard working boyfriend needs his needed rest. you place the mug down on the bedside table, letting your head rest against the pillow.
zayne pulls you close in his embrace, making sure to have you flush against him. he lets out a sigh of relief, and finally closes his eyes for a peaceful slumber with his beloved by his side.
Now he’s wrapped so tightly around your finger it’s almost embarrassing. So far gone he genuinely thinks he’d do anything you asked of him as long as you batted your pretty little lashes at him.
He finds himself crawling into bed a little later these days, after you beg him to stay up with you. All you have to do is give him a little pout and a soft, “Please Haji?” and he’s already deciding maybe 8 is too early anyways.
His food options even branch out, strays away from boring meal preps because the way you politely smiled through his plain chicken and rice once stuck with him. He went shopping that same night.
Now you two cook dinner together after work, bright smiles and laughter filling his once silent kitchen.
He smiles more, over the stupidest little things. Everything somehow leads back to you. A passing scent, a shop window, a fleeting thought, and there you are again, smiling so brightly in his memory he can’t help but smile himself.
Toru teases him about it one night over facetime, a smug grin plastered on his face. “Who would’ve thought you’d be such a loverboy,” he snickers. “Welcome to the club, Iwa-chan.”
The word stands out to him. Rings in his head for days.
Loverboy.
Hajime never saw himself that way. Never really cared to.
But with you..
He finds himself softening piece by piece, bending his routines, reshaping his days, to create a life that has you in every piece of it.
Maybe he is a loverboy after all… just for you.
————————————————————————
A/N: loverboy Iwa is so canon to me, that man’s got his hands on you every chance he has but he’s so subtle and cool about it.
I gotta write more for Haikyuu I miss it so bad !!!!
satoru doesn’t realize just how tall he is. . . "( – ⌓ – )
tall boyfriend perks are really good.
he reaches everything. top shelves, high cabinets, that one lightbulb you swore you’d get to later— done in seconds, no stool needed.
he doubles as your personal ladder and your built-in heater. you’re basically wrapped in a walking blanket 24/7.
but the cons?
he takes up space without meaning to, and the fact he already loves manspreading whenever doesn’t help at all.
it’s as if everything has gotten smaller. that’s the only logical explanation. because there’s no way one man should be able to take up this much space.
“baaabe,” you whine, shoving at his shoulder. “move.”
a sleepy hum is your only response. one long arm tightens around your waist, dragging you back against him like you haven’t just spent the last five minutes trying to wiggle free.
“you’re warm,” he mumbles into your hair, voice thick with sleep. “stay.”
“i’m gonna fall off the bed. you’re literally on my side.”
this is your life— losing every nightly battle for mattress territory, practically kicked out of your bed simply because he can’t keep his limbs to himself.
a frustrated groan slips out before you give up, finally managing to slip out from his hold. he shifts, reaching instinctively for you, but you’re already gone, padding out of the bedroom and collapsing onto the couch.
it lasts exactly ten minutes.
you wake up once more to something heavy pressing into your back.
“…you’ve got to be kidding me.”
behind you, half-folded onto a couch that is very much not built for a grown man his size, satoru has somehow wedged himself in, arms wrapped tightly around you.
“you left,” he murmurs, nuzzling into your shoulder without opening his eyes.
“because you took over the entire bed.”
“mm.. sorry.”
“and now you’re taking up the entire couch as well.”
he hums again, clearly unconcerned, and pulls you even closer— if that’s somehow possible.
you try to twist around to glare at him, but his grip only tightens, his legs tangling with yours until escape is officially impossible.
“mooove.”
“don’t wanna,” he shoots back, a lazy grin tugging at his lips even in the dark.
nanami always adored dinner dates—they were an excuse to have you all dolled up and pretty, with him sitting across the table in his crisp suit, with candles adoring the middle of the table while your face was lit in the pretty moonlight.
ever the gentleman that he is, he always refused to let you pay, fighting you for the check to near violence, because having you in his presence is just enough for him. and treating you to good food is something that he wants to do for you, watching the way your eyes light up when you eat a dish you enjoy is enough to have him drop his entire wallet at your every beck and call.
this little setback didn’t stop you from having your own fun, of course.
right as the waiter dropped the bill at your table, nanami’s taking out his wallet—you’ve given up fighting him for the bill now, the moment you clutch your own purse, zipping it open to fish around it, seemingly to look for you own wallet has nanami pouting like a child for a. moment.
“my love, what on earth are you doing?” he questions, right before you grab what looked like lipgloss and a handful of seashells before setting it down on the table.
“im helping you pay the bill, of course.”
your face was stoic, almost dead serious, with the container of lipgloss and three pretty shells that rested before you.
“will this not cover it?” you say before setting down mermaid shells, and the tiniest jar of glitter on the table before you tilted your head in confusion while staring right into his eyes.
he tries to be serious for a second—he’s used to your antics by now, but something about the way you’re eyeing him while your collection rests next your purse is barely holding him back from bursting into a fit of giggles.
merely seconds later nanami’s snickering, trying to cover his face with his hands while you let out a soft giggle, watching his face tinge in pink while he slowly laughs at your previously dead serious expression while you set down trinkets on the table like a cat.
“gods, i’m gonna marry you some day.” is all he says, before paying the bill and setting it aside, all the while you can see the dimples crease his face at your stupid joke.
“if this was all it took, i would’ve started doing it ages ago.”
old fic i kinda liked idk. @yoonsucks @sugusplaything
dividers: @/pixopix .
all works belong to @lilithkleia, do NOT copy, translate or feed to AI. lest you wish upon toji’s worm to crawl up your ass.
it's in his DNA to be a menace, so can Gojo really be mad that his toddler inherited that from him? II Gojo Satoru x fem!reader
Gojo Satoru is fatally, insanely, completely head over heels for you.
To this day, he maintains that. He’ll tell everybody he knows of the joys of knowing you — and no, he’s not being sarcastic when he says that.
Though, if there was one thing he could almost cry about, it would be this.
See, if there’s one thing Gojo Satoru loves to do, it’s to tease his two girls. And that’s exactly what he’s doing to the tinier one, the mini you x him, this morning.
“Here comes the choo choo train.” Satoru guides the sweet potato closer, and her cute little babbles fill the air. It seems like his little munchkin inherited his sweet tooth. And just as the delightful dollop reaches his sweet girl, he pulls the spoon back with a grin.
“Dada!” She crosses her chubby arms (and briefly, he thinks she looks like the Michelin man, and his grin grows bigger), eye twitching and face in a pout that screams ‘i’ll remember this betrayal’.
“Satoru,” you chide, and he turns to face you. You’re leaning on the kitchen counter, arms crossed just like your daughter. Sunlight streams in through the adjacent open window, lighting the edges of your hair with that ethereal glow that makes his head explode and his heart ache. “That choo choo train is going to derail.”
“I’m an excellent driver, thank you,” he replies, readjusting his grip on the spoon like it’ll prove his point, and if you ask him, it does. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, here…” Satoru glides the spoon through the air again, and just like that, your daughter is giggling and clapping her hands again. So sweet, so trusting, that Satoru almost regrets his next move.
At the last second, he yanks the spoon away again, and this time, he’s dodging tiny fists like his life depends on it. He can’t help it, he only laughs louder – loud, belly-aching, cheek-pulling, laughter that infects you too, as you giggle behind your hand. When he takes a peek at your darling daughter once again, it’s like rage is bubbling through her – well, all the rage someone of her size can muster.
“Satoru.”
But his name didn’t come from you. It’s grumbled out by the tiny cherub in front of him, and the colour drains from his face as Satoru’s heart falls to the floor.
His laughter cuts off – replaced by frantic attempts to placate his rascal, arms held up like in surrender – but yours only grows. And it seems like your approval, and his dismay, fuels the little gremlin, because she opens her mouth again – no doubt to spout that horrific name again.
“No, no,” he coos, desperate now. “Sweetheart, I’m dada. Dad. Papa. Father.” He wrinkles his nose at the last one. “Actually angel, don’t say father. It’s too serious.”
Your baby girl turns her nose up at him, clearly not amused, and Satoru busies himself with scooping a heapful on the spoon — his apology. “Here, for real this time, eat up..” She turns her cheek again – because fool me once, shame on you, but fool me twice… – and the mashed sweet potato smears all over her cheek like an accidental streak of paint.
And for the second time this morning, Satoru has to stifle his laughter, slapping a hand over his mouth as laughter threatens to escape. But your daughter, oh your sweet daughter, she’s glaring at him with an anger strong enough to buckle his knees.
“Gojo.” It’s like the last name comes out in slow motion – choppy, lower, said with defiance and with the intention to reprimand her dad so badly he will never try her again.
And worse yet, she’s not just angry, she’s disappointed. Those big blue eyes (and for the thousandth time this week, Satoru understands how others feel when he looks at them), shining with gleeful revenge.
“Oh, Gojo.” She shakes her head side to side with a pout that could bring nations crumbling down with the sheer of disapproval.
Gojo?
“You’re Gojo too!” And now he’s the one pouting, caught up in a fight with a toddler that both she and he know that she’ll win. Satoru whips his head in your direction – you’re in hysterics now – accusation in his stare, and a silent plea for help. And you know him, you know him, so he knows that you’re ignoring his cries for assistance in favour of holding yourself up by the bench.
Betrayed by his two favourite people in one day.
Satoru lets out a dramatic sigh, slumping in his chair at being struck by this final blow. Your daughter huffs, victorious, her tiny fists pumping into the air in her high chair, like a tiny general who’s just conquered an empire. And Satoru doesn’t even have time to claim the triumph that she picked up that emote from him.
And suddenly, you swoop in like an angel from the sidelines, finally having caught your breath on the sidelines. Stepping forward, you take the spoon from his limp hand and gently scoop up the sweet potato.
“Here, sweetheart,” you coo, smelling something sweet that he can’t name (maybe it’s just you), that he wants to eat up all the same. Your dear daughter accepts the spoonful without hesitation, though, she makes a point to side eye her defeated dad when she does. And then, her little pout melts into a satisfied smile, as she munches happily.
Satoru watches her eat, deflated but completely smitten, and when he turns to you again, he finds you already looking at him – soft hair framing your face like the beautiful art he knows you are – with that knowing, star-filled gaze that always undoes him.
“You’ll pay for this,” he warns weakly, pointing at you with an exaggerated menace.
You just laugh again, and lean down to press a small, soft kiss to his forehead — and just like that, he’s forgiven you. “Good luck, Gojo.”
“You’re Gojo too,” he groans, though, his arms wrap about your waist, pulling you closer despite his wounded pride.
And in that warm kitchen, sunlight pooling around all three of you, he realises he wouldn’t trade this – the chaos, the tiny betrayals, the teasing that only comes from unconditional love – for anything in the world.
Satoru peers up from the sofa. “What’s for dinner, baby? Should we get food delivered? I’m up for anything.”
Jaw dropping, you reply, slowly like he’s an idiot, “There is no dinner. There is no we. You made sure of that.” Stomping over, you grab him by his arm and use all your weight and force to get him up from your couch. To no avail. He’s not called The Strongest for nothing, after all. “Get your fat ass up and out of my apartment!”
“Don’t be mean,” he whines. “It’s turning me on.”
You can’t believe this. Can’t believe that he’s here, lounging in your living room, trying to reach for your thigh to stroke the bare skin there, when just this morning, Satoru had broken up with you.
“A fucking text, Gojo,” you spat out. “You broke up with me through a text message that read, ‘too busy, gotta cut you loose. love ya always!’ And now, you just strut back in here, thinking you can act normal and I’ll let you back in? Are you fucking kidding me? Do you think I’m a pathetic fangirl who’ll let you walk all over her? Get. The. Fuck. Out.”
He pushes himself up to his feet, sighing. Satoru combs his hair back as he towers over you in his usual uniform. “Really hoped it wouldn’t come to this. Here goes nothing.”
In a flash, he falls to his knees and clings to your body like a leech.
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry. Oh, fuck, baby. I’ve been so busy these days. I thought you were going to break up with me. I’ve never been broken up with, and it was scary, and I was just thinking of my pride, like I thought it would hurt less if I was the one who broke up with you first, but when you blocked me on everything and I couldn’t send you any funny tiktoks about dogs standing up on their hind legs, it started to set in, y’know? Like, this immense pain in my chest. I actually thought I was dying. And I knew I had to apologise and beg for you to take me back, but when you opened the door, all I could think about was how beautiful you are and the speech I had planned disappeared, and I just walked in like a dick, and now I’m on my knees literally begging and crying for you to forgive me. I’m so sorry, baby. Please take me back. Please, please, please. I can’t live without y—”
“Shut the fuck up,” you say, pushing him and his snot-nosed face from your stomach. He’s left a Gojo print of wetness on your shirt. Disgusting. “You’re the worst, you self-sabotaging, manchild.”
Satoru, through wet tears, gazes up at you. “I love Sabrina. She really captures my essence, I think. She’d hate me for what I did to you, of course, but I like to believe she’d be moved by my ability to throw all sense of dignity out the window to show you my sincerity… so what do you say?”
“Ugh,” you groan to yourself, “I have the worst taste in men.” Resigned to his inescapable hold, you grumble, “Alright, get up. Let’s unpack why you’re so goddamn impulsive.”
He kisses your belly button in gratitude and sheepishly asks:
“You have all night?”
just a thought I had as I was drying my hair. he'd definitely like to play it cool at first lol
𝜗℘ ˖ ࣪ . ˖˙ even after two years of marriage, husband!gojo still enjoys indulging you whenever you 'fangirl' about him :: tags. wife!reader. fluff.
“and and and, his smile ‘s just so beautiful,” you sigh dreamily, resting your head on satoru’s lap. you’re both enjoying the cozy night in your shared apartment. with no one bothering you—with no regards for the world that’s continuing its cycle outside.
satoru chuckles as he pats your head slowly, taking his time to appreciate every feature of yours. from your pink-ish lips to your pretty eyes. he’s so in love with the creation the universe has gifted him. he nods attentively, “yeah? what else?”
you giggle as he indulges you. it’s a habit of yours, to fangirl over your husband like you’re not literally his wife. satoru finds it absolutely adorable. plus, it boosts his ego. in a very good way.
“aaaand, he’s caring. that’s the one thing i love most about him,” you continue to ramble about your little ‘crush’ on the so-called ‘mysterious white-haired sorcerer’. satoru wishes he could capture this moment and keep repeating it over and over in his head.
the way you talk about your crush—him—is filling his stomach with butterflies. your husband can’t deny the faint blush on his cheeks and the fuzzy feeling in his chest. you keep getting cuter and cuter the more time passes.
when he thinks you’ve reached a state of perfection in his eyes, you prove him wrong and go beyond that. “caring, hm? he must treat my princess real good then,” satoru hums and continues petting your head. his other hand rubs your stomach—fingers creeping under the material of your nightgown.
“he does,” you nod in agreement, “he treats me so well. i don’t know how i got so lucky to have met him.” you squirm a little as you feel satoru’s slender fingers graze your midriff, going back down to your belly and then back up your chest again. his touch is so intimate and loving. you’re spoiled. spoiled rotten by his affection.
satoru sighs. his white lashes flutter shut for a second. hearing you say such stuff makes him want to check if it’s reality he’s in. if it isn’t another too-good-to-be-true dream of his. no one had loved him as much as you did.
it feels good to know that he’s wanted. needed.
“no, i think he is the lucky one,” satoru continues. his hand petting your head stops and he moves it to rub your cheek tenderly. he leans his head down, the tips of your noses touching. he whispers, “having a pretty girl like you love him so dearly… yeah, he’s won the lottery.”
your heart skips a beat. satoru’s words leave you speechless. you don’t know if you can keep up the little silly act anymore. his flirting, the teasing and the genuineness behind his words—it’s all too much.
you grab the back of his head and push his lips down against yours. satoru’s breath hitches for a second before he gives in to you. he visibly melts, eyes closing and hands tightening their grip around your body.
“mmh,” satoru lets out a content moan. he loves you. he’s glad he’s met you and he’s glad he made you his wife two years back. you’re the only one for him. death won’t do you apart—no—he promised you on your wedding day that it wouldn’t.
you kiss him like it’s your last kiss on earth. the spark between you is still as warm and strong as it was when you met. the people who’ve warned you about the ‘honeymoon phase’ are clearly all wrong. they aren’t aware of the strength your bond with satoru has. you’re inseparable.
“i love you,” you sigh against satoru’s glossy lips and he deepens the kiss after that.
somebody loves him. somebody cares for him. that’s all he needs in life. his life is complete with you in it.
he smiles against your lips and says the three words back, with more passion than ever before, “i love you too, my angel.”
nothing will ever separate you. not fate. not anyone.
i’m gonan cry i try to scroll on insta to find silly goofy things to send to my friends and all i see are those goddamn satosugu edits im gonna punch a wall
“what the hell?” satoru mutters to himself, scratching his undercut in confusion.
one second he was fighting a curse, and the next, he was at the gojo residence. and he’s 99% certain that he didn’t somehow accidentally teleport.
he shrugs it off, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he begins to walk through the gardens.
must be a dream, he thinks to himself.
a hyper-realistic dream because when he breathes in, he smells the familiar incense that could somehow always be smelled from outside. and a shadow flies over him which he automatically assumes is a grey heron.
what really makes it confusingly realistic is his favourite ball from when he was a child bouncing into view. he instinctively catches it and holds it under his foot.
then, satoru comes running into view-- wait…
he has to stop himself from yelling, his mouth falling open the widest it’s ever been as he stares at himself. just smaller. shorter. so young. no older than eight years old.
he laughs to himself, unnerved. “this really must be a dream.”
the younger version of himself crouches down to pick up the ball from under his foot and he lets him take it.
it’s like the sky reflected onto water when his eyes meet his own. on a face smaller than his, but still his. he feels like he truly is staring into the eyes of his eight-year-old self. a half-pout, half-scowl on his younger version’s mouth.
“watcha doin’, little ‘toru?” he asks, squatting down to his level.
“wouldn’t you like to know?” the smaller version shoots back, looking at the older satoru with caution. he can only guess it’s because they look the exact same. well, they are the same.
satoru pauses and blinks before breaking into laughter. what a stuck-up brat he used to be.
“well then, let me skip inside and let the elders know you’re neglecting your duties,” he says teasingly. a joke. he would never take away his younger self’s childhood even if it was just a dream.
but he immediately regrets making that joke when the little scowl disappears and a sulk takes over. snowy eyebrows knit together in slight panic. bright, blue eyes swirling with a plea before his gaze downcasts, cheeks drooping sadly.
something in satoru’s heart aches. feeling the distress of being a child who could never truly be a child all over again. something that reverse cursed technique could never heal.
“i’m kidding, buddy. play all you want.” satoru stands back up, reaching out to ruffle his little self’s hair who shakes his hand off and draws back. “just… hang in there, alright? everything’s gonna be okay, i promise,” he whispers, something broken in his voice.
satoru feels stinging behind his eyes, threatening to spill years of a stolen childhood and a burden that only the strongest could carry.
the younger version of him tilts his head at the taller man - the same way he tilts his head to this very day when he’s confused.
“old man… why are you crying?”
“did you just call me old, you br-- wait, what?” satoru says, reaching up to touch his own cheek. he, in fact, does feel salty moisture rolling down the curve of his cheek. “oh… uh, that’s um allergies. yeah, allergies”
but little him scrutinises him like he doesn’t believe his older self. but before he can say anything else, an elder’s voice calls for him from inside, most likely for training.
all satoru hears is a mumbled “weirdo” before his younger self scurries away with a pout tugging at his mouth. and he can’t help but let out a wet chuckle, wiping his face with the heel of his palm.
he watches him go, leaning against the wall with a soft smile touching his lips.
“everything’s okay,” he murmurs to himself under his breath. a sense of peace settling within him.
after wandering around for a while longer, hiding from clan members because something tugs at his gut that this isn’t a dream, he’s suddenly warped back to the abandoned lab where he was dealing with the curse. said curse nowhere to be seen because he had exorcised it before whatever the hell just happened.
he heaves out a breath before immediately teleporting home. to his home. you.
he’s wrapping himself around you from behind, slumping against you and burying his face into the side of your neck.
“my love?” you say softly, surprised and confused but not resisting. you rest a hand on his arm that’s looped around your stomach, brushing your thumb back and forth. “what happened?”
moisture patters against your neck and you freeze, but you don’t force him to speak or lift his head. you let him hold you. let him breathe you in shakily.
“… i love you so much,” he finally murmurs, lips moving against your neck like he’s trying to etch the words into your skin. “i love you. thank you for loving me. fuck, what did i do to deserve you?” he whispers the last part to himself, in disbelief.
“satoru,” you say a bit more firmly this time. hearing him self-deprecate always caused your heart to twist. it made you want to undo the years of trauma that he never deserved. “what’s going on? was your mission okay?”
he laughs softly, then nods. “would you believe me if i said that i think i time-travelled to the past? like, twenty years back.”
“… did you knock your head against something? should we get you to shoko?”
satoru laughs again, louder this time, heartier. he lifts his head from your neck, his face blotchy with stained tears, eyes twinkling with amusement rather than tears now.
“i’m okay, i promise. more than okay. life is perfect,” he grins, feeling ever so thankful for how his life turned out. thankful for you.
papa!kuna’s daughter is a little confused . . . ໒ ݂𓈒𓏼 .﹏. 𓏼ིྀ ̥১
the house smelled like warm rice and miso when you walked through the front door, returning from a long day of work to your little family. ryomen was in the kitchen, massive frame somehow fitting behind the counter as he stirred a pot one-handed, his other arm cradling your two-year-old daughter on his hip like the toddler weighed nothing.
“hey, baby,” he rumbled the moment he saw you, voice low and warm in that way that still made your stomach flip even after years together. “missed you.”
your little girl’s head popped up at the sound, chubby cheeks flushed from playtime earlier. “baby!” she echoed brightly, reaching both arms out toward you with a delighted squeal. “babyyy!”
you blinked, pausing mid-step. “did she just—”
ryomen smirked, that sharp-toothed grin softening at the edges when he looked at his creation. “yeah. little brat’s been calling you that all morning.”
you set your purse down and crossed the room, scooping your toddler into your arms. she immediately buried her face in your neck, giggling. “baby,” she mumbled again, patting your cheek like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“sweetheart, my name isn’t baby,” you said gently, pressing a kiss to her messy hair, pink like her father’s. “it’s—”
“baby,” ryomen cut in smoothly, abandoning the pot to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you both against his chest. his lips brushed your temple. “my baby. always have been.”
the toddler nodded solemnly against you, as if that settled it. “my baby,” she declared, then pointed at her father with a triumphant little fist. “papa’s baby!?”
he let out a low chuckle that vibrated through all three of you, the sound so fond it made your heart squeeze. “that’s right, little princess. papas baby.”
you sighed, half-laughing, half-melting as your daughter kept repeating the nickname like it was the best word she’d ever learned. every time you tried to correct her—“no, love, it’s mama”—she’d just beam wider and say “baby!” even louder, completely amused by your reactions, looking between you and sukuna like you were both in on the world’s greatest secret.
later, when the three of you were curled up on the oversized couch after dinner, little girl fast asleep on ryomen’s chest with one tiny hand fisted in your shirt. he tilted his head toward you, a fond smile tugging at his lips again.
“let her call you that for a while,” he murmured, voice quiet so he wouldn’t wake the little one. his fingers traced slow circles on your shoulder. “she’s not wrong. you were my baby before we actually had a baby. and it’s… it’s pretty cute to hear from her, kinda makes me wanna have another one.”
you rolled your eyes playfully before leaning into him, smiling softly against his skin. “ryo… she’s gonna keep thinking that’s my actual name, you know. you call me that more than my actual name.”
“good,” sukuna said, unrepentant, pressing another kiss to your hair. “she’ll probably let go of it soon enough anyway. like when we had yuji babysit her for a few hours and we came back to her calling me unc, remember? only lasted about a week, so just enjoy it for now.”
your toddler stirred just enough to babble in her sleep before going back to his soft snores, and ryomen grin turned impossibly softer, reduced to putty by the two people who held his whole world.
“yeah,” you whispered, closing your eyes as his big arm tightened around you both. “alright. i’ll be baby just a little longer.”
spreading the stayathome girldad kuna agenda imma need u to also image him sitting in a plastic chair that’s way too small for him with a tiny pink backpack on one shoulder thank u
this lowk is the first fully fluff fic i’ve posted here let’s all cheer yayayay
satoru gojo with a baby who looks exactly like you.
his genes didn't even try. not a speck of white in his baby girl's hair, not a sliver of crystal blue in her eyes. she's all you—from the eyes to the nose to the laugh. good lord, satoru has been blessed by the gods.
he fell in love with her the moment the doctor handed you the little bundle of joy. and when he first carried her? you just laugh at the way he almost melts to the floor.
everytime he gets home from missions, he goes straight to where you're playing with mini you. his daughter giggles upon seeing her dad. he crashes on top of the two of you, careful not to squish neither of you. first and foremost, he kisses you. then, the baby. then back to you, then back to her—it goes on and on until you go and tell him to shower.
at night when your daughter makes a fuss, it's satoru who gets up and soothes her. he carries her over to your shared room, lays her in the space between, and talks to her about anything—his latest mission, his students, her big brother megumi, how the two of you met, his bestfriend suguru, her uncle nanami, her aunt shoko.
all the while, his baby listens earnestly, eyes wide and curious like yours. she even responds sometimes! no, she can't talk yet, but she's already a good listener.
"maybe we should take you to see uncle suguru. do you miss him? who do you miss more, him or papa?"
"ah."
"there's only one answer to that. why are you hesitating?" he pokes her cheek, and holds back the urge to bite and chomp.
"ba.."
"papa? yes! that's right. you miss papa more, right?"
"ma!"
satoru gasps dramatically, "mama? you're already with her 24/7!" your baby grins, and he's in awe by how much of you he sees in her.
he picks her up with ease, and settles her on top of him. he glances at your sleeping form, "you look like your mom, you know?"
your baby also glances at you, one hand reaching out before satoru grabs her little wrist and holds it to his chest. "mama's sleeping. she's tired, we need to let her rest."
your daughter babbles, "ma-ma-ma."
"yes, mama. you look like mama. that means you're also pretty and beautiful." he kisses her cheek.
"pi. pi!"
satoru nods in understanding, acting like your baby just said something revolutionary. "yes. pretty. that's you," he pinches her nose, she huffs. "and mama. my pretty girls."
"when you grow up, you need to marry someone who'll preach your beauty like how i do to your mom, okay? never date a boy who doesn't tell you how beautiful you are every passing day." satoru whispers, eyes locked onto an identical pair to yours.
his daughter only yawns in response, dropping her head into his sternum. satoru adjusts her so she's laying on her back in the middle of you two. instinctively, your baby wiggles around, searching for your warmth in her sleep. satoru only sighs with a smile. what a velcro baby he's raising.
from jade: self-indulgent dad gojo fic bcuz im ovulating and im sleepy and i got crazy baby fever from spending a few days at my aunt's and her two month old baby boy and i also wrote this instead of stressing out over my groupworks so enjoy tehe
baratheonpilled
stormborns
janainaart
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yousharknotpass
2087
discoholicmusic
dededos
