early mornings in the fushiguro household are never quiet.
you wake up to the soft thump of bare feet against the wooden floor, followed by a familiar, grumbly sigh that tells you exactly who's already up. the clock on the microwave glows an unforgiving 6:12 AM , and before you can even fully process that number, you hear a tiny voice from the dining table.
"why nuggets again?"
megumi's tone is deeply offended for someone who is three feet tall and barely awake. he's slumped in his chair, hair sticking up in every direction, arms crossed over his pajamas like he's been personally wronged by the concept of breakfast.
you suppress a smile as you walk into the kitchen, rubbing your eyes. "good morning to you too," you murmur, reaching for the ketchup.
"they're cold," megumi complains, poking one suspiciously with his fork. "and they're dinosaur ones. i wanted the circle ones."
"they're shaped like dinosaurs," you correct gently. "which is objectively cooler."
megumi squints at you, unconvinced. "the t-rex tastes weird."
behind you, toji snorts. he's leaning against the counter in his usual early morning uniform: loose sweatpants, plain shirt, hair a mess from sleep. one arm reaches for the coffee pot , dark circles under his eyes making him look permanently annoyed with the concept of mornings.
"kid," toji says, voice rough, already pouring himself a cup, "they all taste the same."
"no they don't," megumi fires back instantly. "you don't even eat nuggets."
"exactly."
you slide megumi's plate closer and add a little extra ketchup, hoping it'll appease him. he eyes it like he's negotiating a treaty. he pokes one nugget with all the drama of a food critic twice his age.
toji lifts the coffee pot again, frowning when it makes a strange gurgling noise. he tilts it, expecting more coffee.
toji snaps his head toward the table. "hey— no, no, don't say that."
megumi blinks. "but you said it."
toji rubs his face with his free hand, groaning. "yeah, well, i'm allowed."
"that's not fair."
"that's life."
you turn away to hide your smile as toji slams the pot back onto the machine, muttering under his breath while refilling it with water. the coffee maker chooses that exact moment to sputter loudly, spraying a few angry drops onto the counter and one directly onto toji's hand.
"shit—!"
megumi gasps. "shit!"
the kitchen goes dead silent.
megumi looks between the two of you, clearly very proud of himself.
"megumi," you say carefully, kneeling to his level. "we don't say that."
toji rubs a hand down his face. "yeah, don't—don't say that."
megumi tilts his head. "but papa said it."
toji clicks his tongue. "yeah, well. papa shouldn't have."
you clear your throat. "honey, that's a grown-up word."
megumi tilts his head. "but papa's a grown-up."
toji exhales through his nose, already losing the battle. "okay, yeah, but— i'm a bad example."
megumi considers this deeply, then nods. "i'll say it when i'm big."
"please don't," you and toji say at the same time.
toji finally gets his coffee brewing again, shaking his head as he leans back against the counter, taking a cautious sip from an older mug he found in the sink.
megumi pokes at his nuggets again. "next time, can we have pancakes?"
toji raises a brow. "minus the grown-up word, and i'll think about it."
megumi considers this, then looks back at his nuggets. "these are still bad."
mind you, the clock still says 6 AM which is a time meant for sleep, not nugget review and swearing.
when baby megumi wipes off dad!toji's kisses 𑣲 .✦ ݁˖ ۶ৎ
content: fluff, husband!toji x reader, baby megumi, reader as mamaguro if you want, domestic toji | wc 971
you're sat cross-legged on the living room floor, the tv light casting hazy flickers across the room. to your left sits toji, leaning backwards propping himself up with his arm, your son's head propped against his chest. megumi blinks sleepily, long lashes batting slowly as he tries to watch the movie on screen, his head nodding up and down every so often in a drowsy attempt not to drift off. one of his hands is clenched into a tiny fist, clasping tightly onto toji's t-shirt, black spiky hair pressed against the fabric as he rests his head.
unfinished popcorn lays abandoned in a bowl off to the side, pillows scattered from the makeshift fort you and megumi had tried to assemble earlier to watch the movie in. laying amongst the mess of pillows lies two wolf plushies, each with soft fur in colours of deep black and ivory-white each.
you’d spent the majority of the evening in the fort with megumi, watching as he demonstrated a shadow puppet wolf with his chubby hands, lip jutted out and face set in concentration with the most seriousness you think you’ve ever seen in a three year old. you’d watched patiently before following his example, making your own shadow puppet dog. his eyes had widened in a look of subtle pride before he quickly got to his feet and shuffled over to the kitchen to demonstrate the shadow puppet to his father.
clearly worn out now, megumi yawns against toji’s chest, subconsciously curling further into his dad’s warmth, and you smile to yourself at the tiny notion. your eyes flicker up to toji’s, and you’re sure you see his own gaze soften as he watches the action, your husband’s jagged, tired features seeming to erode around the edges into something warmer, more gentle.
meeting your gaze, he smiles, the scar on his lip tilting upwards in a kind of weighted contentment. he’d always felt terrifyingly new to fatherhood: unfit for it, like he was filling in a space he didn’t quite know how to exist in, urging himself to fulfil a father role he’d never quite been able to know himself.
toji moves his other arm to rest around the boy’s back, touch surprisingly tender, rubbing soft circles into his back as megumi blinks, barely half-awake. you lean in from where you’re sat before softly speaking, careful not to startle him too much.
“…gumi, let’s get you to bed, okay?”
you pull yourself up off the floor as toji pulls megumi away from his chest. the boy blinks, slightly disoriented and still somewhat drowsy as toji helps him stand upright so that he can walk to your side. he picks up one of the dog plushies off the floor, trying and failing to stifle a yawn with his small fist. you smile, using a hand to ruffle the inky mess of dark spikes on his head.
“do you want to say goodnight to your dad first?”
the three year old nods sleepily, shuffling his way back to toji and slowly extending his arms in a tiny, almost shy attempt at a hug. toji smiles, pulling him in tight as your son winces, lip pushed out and brows furrowed as he tries to push toji away. his attempts are pointless, however, as he gets pulled in so that toji can press a kiss to his cheek. megumi shudders at the sensation of the scarred flesh against his face before immediately pulling away, brows furrowed as he shakes his head in disgust and wipes his face with his sleeve.
toji’s face immediately falls, his hand stilling on megumi’s back.
“what was that for?” the teasing tone is evidence in his voice as he tightens his grip on megumi, pressing two more firm kisses to the boy’s face in quick succession. he laughs roughly at the way megumi grumbles, the child’s cheeks puffed out and tiny hands outstretched, trying once more to distance himself.
you watch the scene unfold, toji’s scarred lip curling into a broad grin as he ruffles the boy’s hair. his arms are wrapped firmly around your poor son who continues to struggle, attempting to rid himself of the tight grasp, eyes screwed shut and trying to turn his face away.
another few kisses are pressed to his cheek and then his forehead in turn, with megumi huffing loudly and sticking his tongue out in disgust before finally breaking free of toji’s grip. as soon as he’s escaped, he rushes to hide behind your legs, trying to rub the kisses off his face with one of his oversized pj sleeves. his messy hair is somehow even more tousled from toji’s playful teasing and hair ruffles, his chest heaving dramatically with the exertion of getting out of toji’s grasp.
you pick megumi up before turning to look down at your husband, still sat on the floor with his smug grin.
“stop that, toji. leave him alone!” your husband grins up at you, shrugging playfully as you roll your eyes, turning your head to megumi. he’s gone silent now, perceptive gaze flickering between you and toji as though trying to gauge whose side you’re really on. you speak softly, voice hushed as though to reassure him.
“okay, let’s go upstairs and pick out your bedtime story gumi.”
you feel megumi cautiously twist in your arms so that he can face his father once more, wordlessly lifting a hand to offer a half-wave goodnight, eyes still slightly widened with a subtle sense of alertness, undoubtedly thanks to toji’s attack.
smiling at the sweet gesture, you turn to make your way up the stairs to megumi’s room with him in your hands, but not without catching toji’s playful response from the living room. his voice is softer, the usual roughness subdued into subtle tenderness.
“yeah, yeah. night, brat.”
author’s notes:
this is for the anon who requested more dad!toji, i really hope you like this!! the concept had been on my mind for a little while so i was excited to get round to writing it ahh!
i’m a firm believer that toji would 100% be a ragebaiter as a dad, him + grumpy/quiet megumi make such a funny duo i really love them🥹
taglist (thank you!!!): @mayegasm @nonchalantfiend @kissthesword @mochiakun @rielovesphel @yujismissingfingers @megumigooner @vanillaascented @megumisrighttoe @catgvrl @dreamydaredevil @stqrgumi @mariisagb @renrenrenren17
divider creds @/dividers-are-us and @/cursed-carmine!
“he’s not fat.” your husband gave you a look. then looked to your baby. megumi stared at his father. his chubby cheeks smushed against your chest where his head laid.
“lemme’.” toji held his hands out.
“why so you can call him fat?” you asked as you held your son still. fingers combing through the full head of hair he had. toji glared.
“just lemme see him.” toji grabbed his son, lifting him up. “damn—”
“what?” you asked, sitting up.
“he’s heavy.”
toji got another slap to the shoulder before megumi was taken from his grasp.
The bottle of mayonnaise landed in the cart with a soft thud. Toji moved unhurriedly through the aisles of the supermarket near his place. For a Friday evening, the place was surprisingly quiet.
“…so cute!”. “He’s so hot!” whispered a group of women passing by. Toji chuckled – he was used to this reaction. His tall stature and impressive physique always attracted attention from women. But with Megumi it only made him stand out even more.
“The baby is so sweet…He looks just like his daddy,” the ladies giggled and cooed like a bunch of high schoolers. Sitting in his baby carrier, Megumi shrank under the attention and shyly hid his face in his chubby hands.
Megumi was getting bigger with each passing month –a fact that Toji would rather not think about. At eleven months, he could already take a few steps and say a couple of words besides “papa.” Even though it made his chest ache to see his tiny son grow up so fast, Toji couldn’t help but feel proud of every new little victory.
The week had been quiet difficult, so after standing by the shelf with beer, he decided to take a pack of four bottles at once. As they made their way to the veggie section, Megumi cooed, wiggling his little legs.
“Hmm?” Toji glanced down at his son. “Nanna!” Megumi said, pointing at the yellow fruit with a tiny finger. Toji playfully bit his son’s small fingers, making him giggle.
When they arrived home Toji had already put away all the groceries and made a late dinner for Megumi.
It had been a couple of months since Megumi switched to solid food, and usually Toji ate the same thing as him (he’s not one to cook two separate meals) or bought something for himself. But this time, he craved spicy homemade ramen.
After cutting the onions, Toji reached for a beer and took a big gulp. With his other hand, he seasoned the meat broth. Although he couldn’t claim to be a skilled cook, he had to learn to cook from a young age since no adult had ever cared with his food preferences when he was a child.
“Is everything alright ?” he asked, turning his head toward Megumi, who was chewing on rice porridge.
Looking up from his plate, Megumi glanced at his father and brought a peace of banana to his tiny mouth. Seeing his son’s messy cheeks, Toji chuckled and wiped the baby’s face with a napkin. Megumi scrunched up his nose and reached for his straw cup of water.
Toji hadn’t eaten since lunch, and his stomach rumbled in anticipation of dinner. Deciding on a quick snack, he took an onigiri from the fridge, sat down beside Megumi’s highchair, and peeled back the thin packaging. After biting off nearly half of the rice triangle, he sighed contentedly.
As he chewed, he felt the watchful gaze of his son’s green eyes.
“What?” he asked, turning to him and squinting slightly.
Megumi blinked, his gaze dropping once more to the onigiri in Toji’s hands.
“You want this?” Toji waved it lightly. Megumi nodded.
Toji brought the onigiri to the baby’s mouth, but just as the tiny lips parted, he pulled it away. As if bewitched, Megumi followed the onigiri with his head. Toji moved it to the other side again, teasing his son. Megumi whined, pouting his lips in frustration.
“Okay” Toji laughed and squeezed his son’s chubby cheek, and finally brought the onigiri to his mouth, letting him taste it. Megumi took a tiny bite with his baby four teeth. He smiled and chewed a few grains of rice.
Soon losing interest in his father’s food, he returned to his own meal, leaving Toji with a piece of drool-covered nori. Toji groaned, finished the onigiri in one bite, and patted his son’s messy hair.
this art inspired me to write this 🤭💖
more papa toji HERE!
hi guyss i missed you! here this little fluffy piece with papatoji and babygumi! Hope you enjoyed it! 😘 English isn’t my first language so there could be some grammar errors etc.
protective!toji hates when anyone tries to talk over you.
࣪༯ short fluff, au, toji remarried to reader after losing mamaguro, reader is megumi's step mom, toji is employed.
art by jadore_lilly_ on insta!
You and Toji sat in Megumi's principals office, still dressed for work, and STILL waiting for this principal to come and discuss whatever was so important that the two of you had to leave work. Megumi had just started 3rd grade and this was already the second time his principal had called you for a meeting.
You checked your watch for like the 10th time within 5 minutes, your patience was running thin. Toji was leaned back balancing on the two back legs of his chair, rocking back and forth a bit, very obviously bored and tired of waiting.
Finally, the door to the office opened after what felt like forever, and the principal walked in. He came and sat across from the two of you at his desk.
"About time. Me and my wife got jobs y'know? Money don't grow on trees." Toji said, in a sour mood from waiting. (the concept of toji being employed..)
"My apologies to you both. I'm glad you both were able to make it." The principal said.
"What's the matter? Is something going on with Megumi?" You asked, fairly concerned.
The principal sighed.
"Megumi hasn't been getting along with a peer in his class. It's become disruptive to other students learning at this point." The principal said.
"Disruptive how?" You questioned, Megumi wasn't a disruptive kid at all, so this was confusing for you.
"Well, from what his teacher says, Megumi shoved the other child in question, for cutting him in line."
Silence stretched out after he spoke.
"...You serious? That's it? You really wasted my time to tell us that?" Toji asked, settling his chair back on all four of its legs with a thud, irked even more now.
"This isn't the same boy that was bothering him last time is it?" You asked. The first meeting you had with the principal was because Megumi punched the shit out of some other kid for messing with him, but you thought it had been long settled already.
The principal didn't speak for a bit, that told you all you needed to know.
"How is Megumi at fault for anything? That brat has been messing with MY son since school started. What have you done to hold him accountable? I don't see his parents up here right now." You said, starting to get reasonably upset.
"We've...Contacted his parents already." The principal said, sounding unsure. That pissed you off.
"What do you mean? It sounds like you're trying to punish my son fo-"
"Miss, I already said-"
"Don't talk over her." Toji cut him off with a stern tone, his brows knit together as he stared at him.
Being called up to Megumi's school in the middle of work for the second time? Fine. Waiting in this dusty ass office for 30 minutes? Cool. But someone, let alone this old ass man interrupting you? Nah. Toji didn't like that. And trust, he made it known.
You crossed one of your legs over the other, taking a deep breath.
"It sounds like you're punishing him for defending himself." You said, finishing your sentence uninterrupted this time.
"Miss...I understand your frustrations but this kind of behavior will not be tolerated at this school. No exceptions." The principal said.
"Let me get this straight." Toji began, oh boy...
"Let's say I punch the shit out of you right now. Aren't you gonna defend yourself?" He asked, looking the principal dead in the eye. The way Toji spoke, he was so casual about it. You lowkey couldn't tell if he was actually about to do some crazy shit or not...per usual.
"Toji..." You said quietly, side eyeing him.
"Is- Is that a threat Mr. Fushiguro?" The principal asked, appalled.
"Nah. I'm asking you a question. Answer it." Toji said. He then stood up, from his chair, your heart dropped a bit.
"Toji." You said again, this time a bit more stern.
"Let the man answer." Toji said, not even looking at you, his gaze still fixed on the man in front of him.
"You gonna defend yourself or what?" Toji asked again.
The principal gulped a bit.
"I uh...I suppose I would." He said.
Toji smirked a bit.
"There, problem solved. Don't blame my kid for doing it then." He said.
The principal hesitated before slowly nodding.
"I...Suppose I can't argue with that reasoning." He responded. You sighed in relief, arguing with Toji's reasoning wouldn't be in his best favor...
Toji stared at him for a few moments before he looked down at you and motioned his head to the door. You sighed and grabbed your purse, putting it on your shoulder as you stood.
"Next time don't call me or my wife in here unless it's important." Toji said, opening the office door for you and waiting for you to exit first.
You paused a bit, turning to speak with the principal once more,
"Sorry about him. I'm glad we could come to an understanding. Have a nice day." You said, walking out of the office. Toji rolled his eyes a bit, you were always too nice sometimes.
Toji looked back at the principal one more time,
"Talk over my wife like that again, and we're gonna have a problem." Was all he said, before following behind you, grumbling something under his breath about how he wasted his time, closing the door shut.
toji fluff? on this website?? in this economy????
okay but seriously i feel like toji would NOT play about his wife at alll and its so sexy ugh.
and im gonna be so honest fluff isn't really my specialty, writing spicy shit is more of my forte so i hope this wasnt too hard of a read for you all lmao. let me know what you thought of this loves, take care!
Parent-teacher day was supposed to be harmless with the Fushiguro's!
That was the promise you made yourself when you agreed to come along. Just sit in a classroom, hear about Megumi’s grades, maybe shake a hand or two—easy. Normal.
What you hadn’t accounted for was Toji insisting he had to come too.
“Someone’s gotta make sure the kid’s teachers know he’s got backup,” he’d said that morning, cracking his knuckles like parent-teacher meetings involved cage fighting. You’d laughed, thinking he was joking.
He wasn’t.
So now here you were, sitting in a little chair in Megumi’s classroom, knees practically up to your chest, while Toji sprawled beside you like he owned the place. Megumi sat stiffly on your other side, jaw tight, like if he ignored his father hard enough, maybe Toji would evaporate.
The teacher—a kind-looking man in glasses—flipped through Megumi’s file with a smile. “Well, I just want to start by saying, Megumi’s a very bright student. Always diligent, very polite.”
Your heart swelled. You reached over to squeeze Megumi’s hand, but he pulled it away instantly, ears turning red.
Before you could say anything, the teacher glanced at you, smiling. “And I must say, you’ve clearly raised him well.”
You opened your mouth to deflect politely, but you didn’t even get the chance.
Because Toji leaned forward, slid a heavy arm around your shoulders, and grinned like a cat.
“Yeah,” he drawled. “She’s pretty amazing, huh?”
The teacher blinked, startled. You blinked, mortified. Megumi groaned into his hand.
“Can you not?” he hissed at Toji, voice sharp.
“What?” Toji smirked, tugging you closer until you nearly slid out of your tiny chair. “I’m just agreeing with the man. He’s got good taste.”
“Unbelievable,” Megumi muttered, glaring at the floor.
The teacher, to his credit, valiantly attempted to steer the conversation back on track, but it was impossible to ignore the six-foot-something man practically marking his territory in the middle of the classroom.
When the teacher mentioned how well Megumi worked independently, Toji cut in with, “Yeah, gets that from her. Always taking charge.”
When the teacher praised Megumi’s focus, Toji added, “Guess that runs in the family. She’s got laser focus when it counts.”
By the third time Toji made it about you, Megumi snapped.
“This is about me, not you two,” he said, glaring at both of you. “Stop being gross.”
You almost choked on your laugh. “We’re not being gross—”
“Yes, you are,” Megumi deadpanned. “This is the worst day of my life.”
Toji, absolutely delighted, leaned back in his chair and stretched like a satisfied lion. “Kid’s just mad we’re cooler than him.”
That was when Megumi stood up, muttered “I’m leaving,” and walked straight out of the classroom.
You slapped Toji’s arm, glaring. “You couldn’t just behave for an hour?”
He shrugged, unbothered. “What? I was complimenting you.”
“You embarrassed him!”
“Nah.” Toji’s grin widened. “That’s just what being a teenager feels like.”
You groaned, burying your face in your hands, while Toji sat there smug as ever. And when you finally went out into the hall to find Megumi sulking against the lockers, the only thing you could think was—next year, you were coming alone.
notes, my brain is rotting from thinking of how adorable they are!
he's seated rigidly on the living room couch, back straight, arms braced like he's holding a live grenade.
you pause in the doorway for a moment just to take it in.
your hulking mountain of a husband-mercenary by trade, broad enough to blot out the hallway light—is cradling your newborn son with improbable care. massive forearms encircling the baby's fragile frame, one big hand gently adjusting the edge of a mitten so the baby doesn't scratch his own cheek.
and he's staring.
not in concern. not even particularly emotional. just... locked in, brows faintly drawn as he studies your son's face. you wander over, lean against the armrest beside him.
"why's he lookin' at me like that?"
the words are flat, vaguely offended—as if the baby's expression were a personal slight.
you look down. your son is staring straight up at his father. brow furrowed. mouth puckered into something that looks like judgment. even without much expression, he somehow seems... unimpressed. you press your knuckles to your mouth to stifle the laugh, then fail entirely.
"he's not looking at you any kind of way," you giggle, breathless, as you reach down to adjust the beanie slipping sideways on his head. "that's just his default."
toji glances at you, then back at the tiny frown.
"he looks pissed."
"he looks exactly like you."
he grunts, unimpressed by the accusation. but you can tell he sees it too: the stern little set of his mouth. the furrow that's already forming in the centre of his forehead. megumi yawns suddenly, long lashes sweeping down in an absurdly long arc. thick, feminine—the only feature he gets from you. everything else might as well have been stamped out of his father's face.
you ease down beside him, tucking a leg beneath yourself. the baby exhales in his sleep, face still faintly scowling. his tiny socked foot bumps into the thick tendon of toji's wrist. he reaches, knuckles brushing over the tiny ankle, and the baby kicks once, before going still.
you walk in when the jjk men accidentally let your children fall while playing—panicking, whispering apologies the babies don’t yet understand, trying to stop the crying before their scary wife (you) sees.
including: satoru, nanami, toji, & geto.
warnings: MDNI, jjk men as dads, suggestive, cursing, vulgar language, lowkey crackfic
a/n: this has been in my drafts for so long lol
SATORU GOJO —
gojo knows what he is doing. he is only fully convinced it will go the way he has been anticipating.
it probably won’t.
your daughter is already giggling in his hands, tiny legs kicking as he lifts her slightly in the air.
“okay,” he says, focused for once. “watch this. this is gonna be cool.”
she squeals, approval granted, legs curling slightly.
gojo adjusts his stance, eyes narrowing behind the glasses. it won’t be a throw—not really. it’s more like a controlled drop.
he’ll just stop her midair. easy for a man like satoru.
he lets go and for a split second, everything aligns. then, nothing. no catch, and no pause.
just a soft thump.
gojo’s brain goes blank, your daughter blinks up at him from the floor, stunned, not even hurt, yet, just stunned.
“huh..” he breathes.
then her face starts to scrunch.
“oh, no- no, no.. wait!” he drops instantly, scooping her up. “that was— you were supposed to..”
her lip trembles.
“i’m sorry, sorry, sorry.” he whispers as if she understands a thing about what he is saying, or of what just happened. “i miscalculated.” he whispers quickly, bouncing her. “just don’t cry, please don’t cry babygirl.”
he’s too late. a sharp wail fills the room, and from the kitchen.. everything goes quiet.
“satoru?” your voice, laced with worry, the soft sound of a kitchen towel rubbing against your hands, and then your fast footsteps.
he freezes. “everything’s fine!” he calls, way too fast. “we’re just doing advanced techniques, mama!” he says, too loud, trying to outdo your daughter’s cries.
you step into the doorway and your eyes go straight to the crying infant in his arms. then to him. “what did you do.”
gojo swallows. “..maybe I overestimated myself. no, that’s not even possible. i just—”
the baby cries harder.
you step forward, arms already spread out. “give her to me.”
he hesitates, but only for a second. “she was supposed to stop. i was gonna teleport her to the bed.” he murmurs as he hands her over. “like… you know..”
you stare at him. “you tried to teleport her? our daughter? our ten month old daughter?”
“but when you say it like that-”
“i am saying it like that because that’s exactly what you were going for.”
you give him a look and he winces, then leans in anyway, gently brushing her hair back. “I’m sorry.. that one's on me.”
his hand trails down to your hip, squeezing gently.
a pause follows, short, awkward. then you whisper, “no more experiments.”
“yes ma’am.” he says quietly. “that’s fair..”
later, it is quiet. gojo lays beside you, struggling to keep his hands to himself.
“baby.. pleasee.” he murmurs, moving closer.
it is his tenth.. no, eleventh time asking. you fold your pillow so that both sides cover your ears. “it’s been a long day, toru. go to sleep”
“you’re still mad about earlier? i didn’t mean to drop her..”
you turn now, eyes wide in the sharp, warning like manner that gojo has feared since you met. “but you did.”
“come on, baby. you know i didn’t mean to. at least she didn’t land on her head, right?” he gets closer, fingers brushing your side.
your breath hitches despite yourself, eyes trailing down his body and landing on the hard, defined outline of his dick.
you swallow, cheeks hot, trying not to let him see just how much you want him despite your anger. but gojo grins knowingly, his hand slipping under the sheet to your thigh.
his thumb traces gentle circles there, testing just how close he can get. you clench your thighs instinctively. “fine.” you breathe.
“aw, i knew my pretty wife wouldn’t hold-”
your hand tracks from his chest to his mouth. “shh.”
“yes ma’am.”
KENTO NANAMI —
nanami has everything under control, as always.
your son is steady, small hands raised and gripping the edge of the desk, little legs wobbling but determined.
“i’ve got you. we need to perfect this so we can show your mother.” nanami says, voice softer than usual. “just one step.”
the plan is simple; help him stand, snap a photo, keep it until you’re done with training so that he can show you.
a small milestone, safe and documented.
your son looks at him, then nanami lets go. the baby takes one wobbly step forward, then another. kento’s breath catches.
“that’s it..” he says quietly, a hint of awe slipping through. “come here. come to dadda.”
your son wobbled toward him. three steps, four, and then his foot caught. a tiny stumble, then a thud.
nanami moves immediately, shaking his head, taking his son gently. “sorry, i’m sorry.” he whispers rapidly, as if he’s apologizing to you.
your son’s face crumples anyway.
“it’s alright..” he sighs, his grip tightening slightly, cradling him closer. “i shouldn’t have let you try that alone.”
a cry breaks out and footsteps approached quickly.
“ken?” you enter and see your son crying in his arms. your eyes flick to the desk and then back to him. “…what happened?”
“he walked to me,” he said quietly. “i thought i could catch him before he fell.”
your expression shifts, surprise and then concern. “he walked?” you whisper. “and you did not wait to practice this with me?”
kento shuts his eyes for a second, they’re low when he opens them again. “..yes, and i failed to support him properly.”
you step closer, taking your baby. “he just fell,” you say, too gentle. “that happens.”
nanami stays quiet for a second, throat dry. “please, don’t talk like that.. i’d rather hear you scream.”
your sons cries soften against you. nanami watches, something heavy in his expression.
“i’m sorry..” he murmurs. not just to the baby.
later the house is quiet, the kind of quiet that only comes after a long day—soft, dim, wrapped in low light and the steady rhythm of a sleeping child down the hall.
you’ve just finished getting ready for bed, sitting at the vanity, fingers absentmindedly working through the last steps of your routine.
the master bathroom door opens behind you. nanami steps out, hair still damp, a towel slung low across his waist.
“he asleep?” he murmurs, stretching behind you.
your eyes meet his in the mirror. “mhm..”
“you’re still mad?” he whispers loud enough for you to hear.
you don’t answer, you just resume your nightly routine. he sighs heavily, one hand dragging down his face.
he crosses the room sheepishly, grabbing for your shoulders and pulling you against him gently. “i’ve been thinking about you all day. forgive me, please.”
you are about to stand, turn away and get in bed, but then you feel his erection pressing tight against your back.
“i’d like to apologize properly now, darling.”
“kento—” you gasp, hands flexing where they rest against your vanity.
“shh” he says, leaning down and nibbling your ear softly, fingers tracing your jaw. he leans in, pressing gentle wet kisses against your neck.
you lean in because of course you do, it’s your husband.
TOJI FUSHIGURO —
toji isn’t trying to be dumb, because, to him, he isn’t. at least it sounds efficient, two babies, one workout.
your twins are perched on his back, giggling as he lowers himself into another push up.
“hold on,” he mutters. “don’t start sliding. i’ll never hear the end of it.”
a tiny laugh escapes your son, encouragement. your daughter slaps his back repeatedly, giggling along with her twin.
“mhm,” he groans. “real funny.” despite his words, the corner of his mouth twitches, scar stretching.
another push up, and then another, and then a shift. there was too much weight to one side and his advance faltered.
both of the twins roll off. at first, toji freezes, then he glances at them and laughs, trying to play it off—trying to distract them.
their faces distort. toji’s eyes shut as if he’s only praying they won’t make a fuss. “you’ve gotta be kidding me.”
the babies blink up at him, lips trembling—then, in perfect sync they weep.
“oh, don’t-” toji mumbles, hands reaching out for them. “not both of you..”
way too late, and from where you were, silence falls. his eyes shut again at the sound of your footsteps.
“toji?” you appear and freeze. both babies crying, toji sitting there with one already in his arm, reaching for the other.
“what did you do?”
“they rolled.” he says.
your stare sharpens and he tenses visibly. “you dropped both of them?”
“they rolled,” he repeats, more firmly.
you step inside and pick up your son. “they were on your back, weren’t they?” you say, noting the red marks on toji’s shoulders.
“maybe..”
they cry louder and toji clicks his tongue, clearly irritated.. but not at them. “they’re fine.. didn’t hit too hard.”
your daughter stops crying the moment you take her and turn away, just like that. toji goes still behind you. “…seriously?” he mutters.
you don’t even look at him. “what?”
“i had her handled.”
“mm,” you hum, swaying gently. “looked like it.”
he clicks his tongue, but there’s no real bite to it. just slightly bruised pride. by the time both babies are finally asleep, the house settles into a quiet that feels earned.
you stretch once, then move into the kitchen. you barely get started before you feel him again. toji doesn’t announce himself—he’s just there, close and warm, one hand braced against the counter beside you, the other settling at your waist.
“you know,” he starts, voice low, “they stopped crying real fast when you picked ‘em up.”
“mhm.”
his thumb brushes lightly against your side. “feels like favoritism.”
“that’s because you used them as gym equipment.”
“they were participating.. and helping.”
you snort. “they can’t even hold their heads up properly.”
“they held on just fine.”
There’s a pause. Then his hand shifts—slower now, more deliberate.
“you didn’t look this calm earlier,” he murmurs.
“I wasn’t,” you reply. “you dropped both of our babies.”
“they rolled.”
“you dropped them, ji.”
“…semantics.”
you try to step away, but he keeps you close—not forceful, just enough to turn you slightly back toward him.
“be careful,” you warn. “I’m cooking.”
“yeah,” he says, glancing down briefly. “I can see that.”
there’s a pause, then he speaks again. “you always get like this after?”
you narrow your eyes. “after what?”
“handling everything.” his mouth tilts faintly. “all calm and in control… kinda unfair.”
“toji.”
“what?” he says, completely unbothered. “just an observation.”
“you’re not subtle.”
“never said i was.” he leans closer, voice dipping just enough to make your focus slip. “should i start doing push ups with them more often?”
you elbow him immediately. “don’t you dare.”
he laughs under his breath. “if we have another,” he adds, like it’s nothing, “i won’t use them as gym equipment.”
you stop completely. “what?”
“i said,” he repeats easily, “if we have another, i’ll adjust.”
you turn slowly, staring at him. “If we have another?” you cross your arms. “you just dropped two today.”
“they rolled, baby. I'm telling ya.”
“you dropped-” you cut yourself off with a sharp exhale. “and so your solution is more?”
a hint of a grin tugs at his mouth. “i said i’d learn.”
“that’s not reassuring.”
“it should be.”
you turn back to the stove, shaking your head. “Incredible.”
there’s a quiet pause behind you, then his hand returns to your waist—slower now, less teasing.
“besides,” he murmurs, “you handled them pretty well.”
“they’re babies. i’m their mother. its the job.”
“yeah,” he says, thumb brushing lightly again, “but you make it look easy.”
“flattery’s not fixing this.”
“wasn’t trying to fix it.”
you glance back at him and this time, he’s looking at you steadily, not joking.. not entirely.
“…you’re serious,” you say.
“about not using them as weights? yeah.”
“that’s not the part i meant.”
“why not? why not another?”
the question hangs. you turn fully now, folding your arms. “becayse we already have two.”
“aand?”
“and that’s enough, they’re newborns.”
he tilts his head slightly, considering it, not dismissing, just thinking.
“maybe it’s enough,” he says.
“toji!”
“what?” he murmurs, softer now, hand still resting at your side. “just saying.”
there’s no pressure, just that same quiet certainty, like the idea doesn’t bother him at all.
like maybe, he’s already thought about it.
you hold his gaze for a second longer, then turn back to the stove—though your focus isn’t nearly as steady now.
“you can cook your own dinner,” you mutter.
a low chuckle sounds behind you. “yeah,” he says. “we’ll see about that.”
SUGURU GETO —
suguru knows exactly what he’s doing. he thought it would be harmless, teaching your one year old son how to play ball…
your boy sat in front of geto, fascinated, watching the basketball in his hands.
“alright,” geto smiles, bouncing the ball lightly. “watch closely.”
the ball hits the floor and comes back up, a simple dribble, smooth and controlled.
your son giggles and geto’s smile softens. “see? like this.”
he dribbles again, but your son reaches forward too suddenly.
the timing breaks, the ball bounces wrong, and taps right into him.
not hard, but hard enough, your son loses balance, tipping backward.
thump
geto’s heart drops
“oh!” he’s there instantly, picking him up. “i didn’t think you’d— im so sorry.”
your sons face twists. geto holds him closer.
“no, nope. its okay!” he bounces your son gently in his arms.
“suguru!” he hears you coming from your bedroom, every one of your steps suddenly exaggerated and loud in his head. “why’s he crying?! i cant enjoy one moment with the girls without you turning boy time into a mess!”
you walk in only to see his nervous expression and your baby boy, writhing in his arms. you take him gently.
“what…happened?”
“i was trying to teach him how to hoop!” he blurts out. “he fell, baby im sorry..”
“suguru you are going to watch five little monkeys with this boy every night until he falls asleep. and if he doesn't.. you're going to put it on loop. do you understand?”
“no! i’ll do anything.”
“nope. you will watch it.”
later that night, you and the girls peek through the hallway door and see geto on the couch with your son, baby sprawled on his chest like he has nowhere else to be, little fist in his mouth as he rewatches five little monkeys for the fifth time tonight.
you snicker as quietly as you can but your husband isn’t an idiot. he knows you’re watching.
notes: i get so shy writing anything lewd it feels like i’m being watched by everybody who’s ever met me in the world
