*cursing In Cat* 🐈 (part 2 Of This)

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When he knew there was nothing better in this world than being a parent  — Jujutsu Kaisean

( cw ) f!reader, fluff, domestic , mentions of surgery, Toji gets bullied 😢

featuring. Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Toji Fushiguro, Nanami Kento 

authors note. I found this draft and was like ??? when did I write 💀 but anyways I like 2/4 of it so 💁‍♀️ I could name a million things better than being a parent but shhh 🤫

GOJO SATORU

Gojo had just put her down, and she was already screeching again. He was starting to get annoyed; he had work to get to, and she just wouldn’t settle down. Sighing, he stood back up and made his way to her, peeking over the top of her crib. Almost instantly, she stopped, and a big toothless smile spread across her face. She let out a happy little sound. He leaned over, picked her up, and she snuggled into his chest, smiling and cooing. Satoru melted in a way he didn’t know he could. His baby just missed him and in that moment he knew he'd do anything to keep that smile on her face.

TOJI FUSHIGURO   

Toji never cared about what the general public thought of him. He was who he was, and nobody's opinion was going to change that. However, when a group of teenagers at the restaurant started to loudly talk and point at the scar decorating the side of his face while he was with his son, he couldn't help but feel a surge of anger. When his son glanced up and made a face, a tendril of insecurity took root in Toji's mind. Maybe the scar was a bit ugly—perhaps his son had always hated it but never said anything. Toji turned his attention back to his plate and started to play with his food; he wasn't that hungry anymore. In his peripheral vision, he saw his son stand up and gently touch the scar with his small hand. "I think you look cool, Daddy, like a superhero." his son said before giving him a quick kiss on the cheek and returning to his meal.

GETO SUGURU  

Geto was lost in his thoughts when he felt a hand gently caress his stomach. "Daddy? Are you okay?" his daughters asked from the side of the bed. He hadn’t heard them come in. He had just had his appendix removed, and it hurt—a lot. "Yeah," he lied, offering them a small smile. They took this as a sign to crawl up onto the bed. One of them settled next to the bandage on his side, while the other came up to pet his hair and face. "You’re going to get better soon, Daddy. We’ll take care of you," the eldest whispered before placing a gentle kiss on his forehead, just like he did every time they were sick.

NANAMI KENTO  

Nanami knows he has the best daughter in the world when she rushes up to him in a panic just before he’s about to leave for work. He looks down at her with a questioning expression. “I just want to tell you to have a good day at work today because I know you came home sad yesterday.” She smiles shyly up at her father before wrapping her small arms around his legs. He quickly kneels down to give her a proper hug. “I love you, Daddy. I wished for you to never have a bad day again before I went to sleep.”

Hello! Can I request a fic where Carlos and reader are in the early stages of their relationship, and he finds out that reader has a cat? (Since we all know how he feels about cats)

CLAWS | CS55

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x OC (she/her/Sarah)

Warnings: None

Author’s note: This was such a cute request! Thank you! I hope you like it. I kind of realised while writing this that I’m more of a dog person, but I loved this and now I want a cat. Sorry, this ended up being a bit on the short side.

Masterlist

Carlos hadn't been on a date in what felt like years. The string of awkward silences and forced conversations had left him jaded. So when his friends, bless their persistent souls, convinced him to meet their friend for a blind date, he went in with the enthusiasm of a slug crossing a salt flat.

The tiny Italian restaurant buzzed with conversation, the air thick with the aroma of garlic and basil. Carlos fidgeted in his chair, replaying every embarrassing first-date anecdote in his head. Then, she walked in, a whirlwind of laughter and sunshine in a yellow sundress.

The conversation started easily, like a worn path they'd both walked before. They discovered a shared love of terrible puns and a mutual disdain for reality TV. Before he knew it,  hours had melted away, the clinking of plates replaced by their easy laughter. As Carlos walked her to her car, a warm, unfamiliar feeling bloomed in his chest.  He was surprised, not just by the connection, but by how quickly he let his guard down.  Maybe, just maybe, this wasn't another bad date after all.

Butterflies danced a frantic jig in Carlos's stomach as he pulled into the parking spot behind her car. Three dates, weeks of stolen glances and playful texts, and there he was, parked outside her apartment building. It wasn't a fancy high-rise, but a well-maintained brick building with overflowing window boxes and fairy lights strung across the balconies. A hint of jasmine, maybe from the blooming climbers by the entrance, tickled his nose. He wasn't sure if “coffee” was the only thing brewing tonight, and the uncertainty sent a thrill through him. He took a deep breath, the air thick with anticipation, and stepped out, ready to see what awaited him behind that unassuming door.

Carlos found her waiting by the building's entrance, a curious smile playing on her lips. Together, they navigated the slightly creaky elevator to the fifth floor, the silence comfortable as their hands brushed, sending a spark through him.

Reaching her door, she fumbled slightly with her keys before unlocking it with a laugh. Inside, the warm glow of fairy lights strung across the ceiling cast a whimsical light on the room. Carlos's eyes adjusted, taking in the cosy space adorned with mismatched furniture and bookshelves overflowing with novels. Yet, an unexpected detail snagged his attention. Nestled by the doorway sat two small, vibrantly coloured food and water bowls, a splash of lavender against the wooden floor.

Carlos froze, momentarily thrown. Weeks of flirting hadn't prepared him for the realisation that dawned on him slowly. He hadn't considered the possibility of her having a pet, and the bowls, clearly meant for something much smaller than a dog, left him confused. His gaze darted around, searching for a furry companion, but the apartment remained curiously devoid of chewed toys or the telltale signs of a playful canine.  A blush crept up his neck as the truth, both hilarious and slightly embarrassing, began to settle in. These weren't dog bowls – they were for a cat.

Reaching up, she retrieved a kettle from a shelf and filled it with water.  With a practised flick of her wrist, she pulled open a cupboard and retrieved a small, foil pouch adorned with a cartoon cat. With a satisfied smile, she ripped the top open, a pungent aroma of tuna wafting out.  Unaware of the revelation dawning on Carlos, she began meticulously scooping the wet food onto a dish by the door – the very one that had thrown him into a moment of confusion. A strangled laugh escaped Carlos's lips. 

“So, you have a cat?” he asked, the question laced with a hint of amusement that both surprised and relieved him. Sarah's smile widened, her eyes sparkling with delight.

“I do,” she confirmed, “though she's mastered the art of invisibility apparently.”

“What's, uh, she called?” Carlos continued to probe, his gaze scanning the room for any sign of movement.  He was starting to feel a little foolish for his initial confusion over the bowls.

“You're going to laugh,” she chuckled, a hint of mischief in her eyes.

“Please tell me it isn't like Carlita, or something like that,” Carlos retorted, trying to regain some composure. He secretly hoped for a normal, elegant cat name.

“When I rescued her, she was so small, we didn't know what her sex was, so I just named her Bean,” she explained, a warm smile gracing her lips.

“Bean?” Carlos asked, almost cackling as he watched her in amazement. The name did not quite match the image he'd conjured. Just then, almost on cue, a tiny, pitch-black cat emerged from under the couch. It wasn't your average house cat – its sleek form and patterned coat were more reminiscent of a miniature leopard. The little feline brushed against Carlos's leg, startling him with a soft purr. Bean, it seemed, was anything but ordinary.

“There she is,” she commented with a delighted giggle as Bean continued to weave her tiny body around Carlos's ankles, purring like a tiny motor. “And, I think she likes you.”

“Mmmh,” Carlos mumbled, his initial surprise morphing into a hesitant amusement. He glanced down at the cat, who tilted her head up at him with wide, emerald eyes. The little panther-like creature paused mid-rub, seemingly evaluating him in return.

Internally, Carlos was waging a battle. Part of him wanted to melt into a puddle at the feline's apparent affection. Cats, especially aloof ones, were notoriously difficult to impress, and here was Bean, practically begging for his attention. The other, more cautious part, was screaming at him to gently shoo the creature away. He wasn't particularly fond of cats –  childhood memories of getting scratched by his neighbour's tomcat were still vivid. Why hadn't Sarah mentioned she had a cat? Not that it was a dealbreaker, but the whole situation felt...unexpected.

Sarah noticed the almost pained expression flicker across Carlos's face.

“I take it you're more of a dog person, huh?” she wondered, her voice laced with a hint of curiosity. Carlos winced internally. He hated to disappoint her, but honesty seemed to be the best policy.

“Yeah,” he finally admitted, offering a sheepish smile. “Cats… not usually my go-to pet.”

A flicker of something akin to disappointment crossed Sarah's features, but it was quickly masked by a determined smile. Was this going to influence their relationship at all? She really liked Carlos, but if her having a cat deterred him so much, perhaps he wasn't the guy for her.  She excused herself to the restroom, needing a moment to take a deep breath. Surely her choice of pet shouldn't be an issue, but a knot of uncertainty tightened in her stomach.

Her brief absence stretched a little longer than expected, leaving Carlos in a peculiar situation. Bean, the tiny panther in disguise, continued her mission of feline affection. With a soft purr that rumbled in his chest, she hopped onto the couch, her gaze fixed on him. Carlos, still wrestling with his internal conflict, sighed helplessly. This wasn't how he envisioned the evening going. Cats, in his experience, were furry bundles of chaos – all claws, hisses, and disdainful glances. Yet, here was Bean, a picture of feline tranquillity, nuzzling his leg and gazing at him with those emerald eyes that seemed to hold a surprising depth.

He hesitantly reached out a hand, prepared for the inevitable withdrawal or worse, a swipe. But to his surprise, Bean leaned into his touch, her tiny body vibrating with contentment as he stroked her soft fur. It was surprisingly pleasant, the gentle rasp against his palm a far cry from the sandpapery texture he remembered from childhood encounters. A hesitant smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Maybe, just maybe, cats weren't so bad after all.  This Bean, this miniature panther with a heart of gold, was slowly chipping away at his preconceived notions.

A surprised chuckle escaped her lips as she peeked around the corner and saw Carlos, the self-proclaimed dog person, cradling Bean contentedly on his lap. The tiny panther, usually a whirlwind of energy, was nestled against his chest, a rhythmic purr rumbling through her small body. His hand, the one that had hovered hesitantly just moments ago, now stroked her back with a gentleness that surprised even Sarah.

“You're not so bad, Bean,” he whispered to the cat, his voice barely a murmur. “You think your Mom would mind if I called you Chili Bean?”

The question hung in the air for a beat, and then Bean, as if on cue, let out a contented chirp and nuzzled further into Carlos's embrace. A genuine smile bloomed on his face as he continued to stroke her, the warmth of her tiny body radiating against him. Sarah couldn't help but grin. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn't a dealbreaker after all. In fact, it seemed like Bean had a new favourite human. Sarah's surprise melted into pure delight as she witnessed the unlikely pair cuddled on the couch.

“Look at you two,” she gushed, a wide smile gracing her features. It was astonishing how quickly Carlos and Bean had become comfortable with each other.

“She's the loveliest cat I've ever met,” Carlos admitted, his voice laced with a newfound affection. He stroked Bean's soft fur with his fingertips, his earlier apprehension replaced by a genuine fondness.

“Told you she liked you,” she teased playfully, already heading towards the kitchen to make coffee.  The tension from earlier had dissipated, replaced by a comfortable ease.

“Does her Mom like me too?” Carlos countered, a mischievous glint in his eyes.  He was starting to enjoy this dynamic.

“Her Mom most certainly does,” she confessed with a sheepish grin as she grabbed mugs, "”especially after seeing you with her like that.”

Carlos chuckled, basking in the warmth of the moment. 

“Good, because I've kind of already, sort of, dubbed her Chili Bean and I want to take her home with me,” he blurted out in a rush, causing her to erupt in laughter.

"Problem is, we're a package deal," she countered, her eyes twinkling as she moved to take a seat beside him on the couch.

“That's fine, you can come too,” Carlos retorted with a playful smile. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her cheek, the air humming with unspoken possibilities. They settled back onto the couch, content to watch Bean sleep, a tiny ball of fur nestled between them. The evening, which began with an unspoken misunderstanding, had taken an unexpected turn, blooming into something far more promising.

max catstappen for ur consideration

Bitches be like "can't stand her fakeass!"

Twelve years later : "me n the bestie!"

madness

It started innocently enough.

“Here. Happy anniversary, brat!” 

Sukuna handed you a big ass box (his gift), grinning like he’d just given you the solution to all your life problems. You took it, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Wow, you’re really splurging on me, babe. What’s inside?”

“Just open it.”

“Okay fine –” you tore off the wrapping and blinked. “What the fuck is this?” You asked nicely with shock as you stared at your husband’s gift, utterly baffled.

Because, really. What the fuck was this? Inside the big box… were six smaller boxes.

And as someone who’s chronically online (admit it, the only apps you ever open are twitter – you still refuse to call it ‘X’ – for F1 updates, tumblr, instagram, youtube, and pinterest), your algorithm had NEVER shoved this thing in your face.

Sukuna, on the other hand, looked way too smug about it. Arms crossed, smirk in place, even throwing in a wink for good measure.

“That, my dear wife, is a fucking Labubu.”

“A what?”

 “A Labubu,” he repeated, as if that explained anything.

“Huh?”

“You seriously haven’t heard of it?” Sukuna blinked, feigning shock. “Weird. I thought you were the one most updated between us.”

“Well yeah, but not with… whatever this is,” you narrowed your eyes as you shot back. “Mostly just F1, Stardew, and some new game drops. Not this.”

“Oh well,” he shrugged. “Just open one already.”

“Fine,” you sighed, grabbing a box and tearing into the packaging.

“Huh, why is there another plastic inside?”

“Obviously, because it’s a blind box, brat,” Sukuna replied, his tone dripping with amusement.

“Pfft, why are you so impatient today?”

“I’m just very excited for your reaction”

You narrowed your eyes, again, at your husband and said, “No, really. Tell me, babe.”

“Just open it. Stop stalling.”

“Hmp, fine –” and you ripped the plastic open.

Then you squinted. “What the hell am I looking at?”

Inside was a tiny, goblin-looking creature. You held up the plush toy in your hands, inspecting it like it was an alien artifact. It had big round eyes, sharp little teeth, and fur that made it look like a cross between a mischievous raccoon and... a gremlin.

"It's cute," Sukuna declared, like that was the only justification needed.

“You’re telling me this –”you wiggled the plushie at him, still very skeptical about this whole gift thing, “– is supposed to be cute?”

“Obviously.”

“Sukuna. This thing looks like it’s gonna scam me out of my life savings and then laugh about it.”

“Exactly,” he smirked. “Just like you.”

You gasped, clutching your chest. “Wow. So that’s what you really think of me, huh?”

“Don't act so shocked.” He leaned in, voice dropping to that infuriatingly smug drawl. “You did swindle me into marrying you.”

“Excuse me? I swindled you?”

“Mhm.”

“You literally begged me to marry you.”

“Did I?” He tilted his head, playing dumb.

“Yes.” You crossed your arms, glaring up at him. “You were down bad. It was embarrassing, honestly.”

Sukuna scoffed. “I don’t recall.”

“Should I pull up the texts?”

“Anyway,” he cut you off, reaching for another box inside the box set, “open the other ones. You’ve got five more to go.”

You eyed him warily. Then the box. Then back at him. “…Why do I feel like you just dragged me into some weird collector's cult?”

“It’s not a cult—“

“That’s exactly what someone in a cult would say.”

Sukuna just chuckled and handed you the next box.

You sighed, opening it—because at this point, you might as well embrace your fate. After opening all the boxes, you set them on your shelf, thinking that was that. Oh, if only you know how wrong you were.

A week later, you found yourself scrolling through Labubu forums. You don’t know how it happened. One moment, you were researching out of sheer curiosity – and then it was 3AM. Sukuna was fast asleep beside you, and you were staring at photos of different Labubu plushies and figurines, heart pounding like you’d just discovered a new religion.

Wait… are these actually kinda cute?

No.

No, no, no.

You turned your phone off. Absolutely not. And put in on your bedside table. No way in hell.

But the next day, you found yourself staring at your Tasty Macarons Labubus a little too long. And your husband? Of course, he noticed this.

“Babe.”

No response.

He moved closer, sitting beside you on the couch. “Babe, you’ve been ignoring me. What’s up?”

“…Huh?” This time, you finally tore your gaze away from your shelf and turned towards your husband and said, “Nothing, don’t worry.”

“You sure? You look like you’re about to shut down.”

Ttruth be told, you were debating whether to check out the Have a Seat collection sitting in your cart since 3AM or not. But you’d rather die than admit that to Sukuna.

And then another week passed, and somehow – somehow – your new collection arrived. Your husband took one look at it and raised a brow.

“So that’s why you’ve been out of it all week.”

“What do you mean?” You shot back.

“Babe,” he drawled, smirking. “I knew you’d get addicted,” he simply added with his I-know-everything-about-you tone. “Next thing you know, you’ll be selling your soul to rare editions.”

“Pfft, no way.”

“Uh-huh. Give it two weeks before you start spiraling.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s just a phase, babe.”

It was not a phase. You were wrong. Sukuna was right. Always right.

Because a week later, you nearly had a breakdown when Sukuna surprised you with three big-ass plush dolls – Angel in Cloud, I Found You, and Catch Me If You Like Me.

“Oh my God, they’re so fucking cute,” you whispered, clutching one to your chest like it was your firstborn.

And your ever-loving husband? He just flashed that signature smirk of his, watching you descend into madness. As if he’s actually supporting (more like enabling) you going crazy over these plush toys.

Another week passed, and you found yourself pressing “checkout” on the Coca-Cola Special Set. Then, not even a week passed but in just 3 days, you went full psycho mode, caving in and splurging on all the special edition Labubus – Wings of Fortune, Happy Halloween, Wings of Fantasy, Fall in Wild… and more.

At this point, your soul had left your body, and you refuse to do the math on how much you had spent. And as they say: denial is a healthy coping mechanism.

By the time your birthday (just a week later passed) rolled around, Sukuna dropped the biggest bomb yet and gifted you four entire boxed collections which are all lined up on the dining table, wrapped with a pretty ribbon.

You gasped. “FOUR?!”

Yes, you were losing your mind. You were in Labubu fucking heaven. This was no longer a phase. This was a full-blown lifestyle.

And your husband? He was just watching. Amused. Satisfied. Like a man who had bet on the right horse.

“You’re so gone,” he smirked.

You clutched your new babies and agreeing with him, “I am so gone.”

But you see, there was one problem. Scratch that, four problems.

After all your collections, the only ones missing were the Mega Sketch Labubu 1000% and the elusive secret plushies from all the pendant sets. I mean what are you even gonna hang on your designer bags for next week? Here’s when your true descent into madness began.

As a woman on a mission, you scoured the internet, joined every damn collector’s group to hunt these secrets down. And after an intense bidding war – finally – you secured the three missing secret plushies.

For… a mere $700.

The cherry on top? Once these plushies came, you ended up opening all boxes and inside were fucking Lafufus. The knock-off ones who don’t even look the exact same.

Of course and obviously, you cried. And Sukuna? Oh bless the Gods everywhere, your husband was pissed. Not just the mildly annoyed kind of pissed – it’s the you-are-the-biggest-dumbass-I’ve-ever-married kind of pissed. In short, he was fucking livid.

“Are you kidding me?” He grumbled, rubbing his temples with one hand and the other patting you on the back with you crying for hours now since you opened those damn boxes. “I told you to double-check before buying from random sellers, dumbass.”

“I did check!”

He shot you a look and said, “For someone who triple-checks F1 rumors, you forgot this one time where it involves your money, brat.”

“I panicked!” You wailed. “The seller said it someone else was gonna buy it if I don’t act fast.”

He exhaled, slow and controlled. “You fucking idiot.” And yes, he’s done with your bullshit. For the next two days, he said nothing about Labubus. Which meant you were suffering in silence.

With your husband being him, even after all that, even after your idiotic decision-making, he still went and did what he does best – spoiling you rotten.

On the third day of Labubu silence, you woke up to a giant box sitting in the middle of your living room.

You gasped, scrambling to tear the wrapping open. And there it was, in all its oversized glory – the Mega Sketch Labubu 1000%. And right next to it? Three, small neatly wrapped packages.

Your hands shook as you opened them. And when you did, your soul left your body. Yes, it was that crazy for you.

Inside were the three secret plushies. The real ones!

You turned to look at Sukuna, eyes wide with tears and disbelief. And yes, you’re on your knees, grabbing the couch for support, “You… you did not. No fucking way this is real!”

Sukuna smirked, arms crossed. “Well, I did, baby. And it’s real. And just so I don’t forget, happy belated birthday, dumbass.”

Still can’t believe that all of this is true, your jaw dropped. “I – HOW?! THESE ARE – THEY’RE LIKE – THEY’RE IMPOSSIBLE TO GET??? IT’S SOLD OUT EVERYWHERE!”

“I have my ways.”

You choked on air. “SUKUNA!”

He just shrugged and leaned on the doorway, looking way too pleased with himself. “Figured I’d complete your collection before you go and do something stupid again.”

You threw yourself at him, clinging to him like a koala, tears in your eyes. “You’re the best husband ever, oh my god.”

“Ugh – get off!” He groaned, trying to pry you off him.

“NOPE! NEVER LETTING GO! You love me so much, it’s actually embarrassing for you”

“Tch. As if.”

“You doooo,” you cooed, snuggling closer. “You got me my dream Labubu even though I made the dumbest purchase of my life.”

Sukuna sighed, but his hand was already under your butt and squeezing them. “Yeah, yeah. You’re still a dumbass, brat.”

You pouted. “Rude.”

And so, with your ultimate Labubu collection complete, you swore you were done. No more. This was it. The final haul.

The next week, your doorbell rang. Sukuna frowned as he stared up from his laptop and called for you, “Babe, did you order something again?”

“Nope!”

You ran towards the door and find another large parcel sitting on your doorstep. And yes, you just remembered, you did order something… when you were sulking over that scamming situation.

You brought the box inside and set it in the middle of your living room. With Sukuna who stopped his reading and raised a brow at you. Giggling, you opened the box and yes inside was an entire Space Molly figurine set.

You turned to Sukuna in slow motion.

He just let out a long, suffering sigh, dragging a hand down his face. 

“You’re fucking hopeless.”

“Ehh, you still love me.”

a/n: this was one of the reasons why i was gone for a month or two. i was fucking livid with these damn blind boxes. especially, labubus! but thanks heavens, all my blind boxes were gifted to me and i haven't spent a dime yet on any of these blind boxes... and please... this hasn't been edited nor proofread yet aaaa

Picturing the JJK men as dads on the beach!

Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Nanami

TW: Fluff, Established Relationships, It's silly if you think of Geto as a cult leader and you really don't know what he does for a living.

Gojo Satoru is definitely the playful type. Gently holds your toddler’s tiny little hand as they take their very first steps onto the beach. You, of course, are a few steps behind, recording the whole thing, his white hair blowing in the breeze, those bright blue eyes flickering back to you with the happiest smile you’ve ever seen.

When your little boy finally reach the wet sand, the first chill of seawater brushes over his little toes as he squeals, cautious of the water. Satoru crouches slightly beside them, steady and so full of joy. You can hear his soft giggles and gentle reassurances, “I got you,” and “Don’t worry, daddy won’t let anything happen”, as he coaxes him forward, step by tiny step.

Each time the waves grow taller, he lets out a playful, “Wooo!” before shielding your little one with his long frame, bursting into laughter that makes your chest ache with love. “That was a big one, huh?” he grins, scooping the toddler closer. Checking them over as they spit out salt water. Helping him rub his little blue eyes that resemble his fathers. “My brave little man”

Eventually, you make your way over, camera tucked away, the salty breeze tangling in your hair. Satoru looks up the second he senses you near, and his grin only widens.

“There’s mama,” he coos, squeezing your toddler's small hand, pulling them close, before reaching for your hand, lacing your fingers with his. “C’mon, join us. The water’s not so scary.”

And just like that, the three of you stand at the edge of the sea, the water coming in cold burts, shells dazzling in the sand. When the next one crashes in, he pulls you both close, laughing loud and bright as cold water splashes up your legs.

“See?” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your cheek as your little one squeals with joy. Small little kicks in the water. “Told you I’ve got you.”

------------

Now Geto Suguru, absolutely has a schedule in mind. A bit of time at the beach, a long scenic car ride timed perfectly for the twins to nap, then dinner at a place he made reservations for weeks in advance, with a menu that includes safe foods for the kids and views that he knows you will love.

You, of course, have no clue what the schedule is. You’re just following his lead, letting him steer the day. If he’s being a little overprotective? Well, he means well.

He kneels down to carefully lather sunscreen onto the twins' cheeks, smoothing it into their soft skin with those big gentle hands. Then he sprays down their arms and legs until their glistening (hey do you want two little ones complaining about sunburns? No? Thought so), before adjusting their sun hats and leading them down the sand toward the tide pools.

“The tide’s too rough for little girls,” he murmurs, glancing back at you with playful violet eyes as if daring you to challenge him. He’d said the same thing when school season came up, murmuring something about “not just yet” and “there’s still time.” You’re starting to realize he just doesn’t want them to grow up too fast.

Once you reach the tide pools, it’s like watching a nature documentary, narrated carefully with a smooth, honeyed voice. Suguru who crouches low, sleeves rolled up, pointing to colorful sea anemones and starfish nestled in rock crevices. The occasional hermit crabs scrambling about. He gently holds the girls back with one arm as he explains how we have to be careful, how these creatures are delicate, how we should never touch unless we’re invited. He asks them questions, listens closely to their little answers, and hums in thoughtful praise when they’re right.

You take pictures from behind for his little scrapbook - your husband hunched beside his daughters, the wind tousling his dark hair, a small smile on his face as they eagerly chatter about “funny sea goos” and “squishy blobs.”

Even when the four of you walk along the shore, he’s still tuned in. He picks up every seashell they hand him and slips them into his pockets, keeping each one safe. Talking to you that he will have them do a little craft, maybe decorate a frame for your next family photo. His other hand stays laced in yours, thumb brushing your knuckle like a quiet thank-you for being here, for trusting his rhythm.

And when the twins break into a run, he calls after them, not angry, just firm. Protective.

“Hey, stay where I can see you. Don’t go too far, yeah?”

You can't blame the man for being a little overprotective. He's just trying to protect the only family he has left in the world.

------

Nanami finally got his beach house.

It wasn’t something he ever really thought he’d have, not in the way people dream of it. Certainly not with a wife he adores more than life, and definitely not with a little girl who just turned one. Both surprises. Both blessings he never knew how much he needed until they arrived, warm, loud, full of life and love.

He lounges beneath a large umbrella, reclined in a low chair on the sand with your daughter curled up sound asleep on his chest. A small paperback rests in his hand, the other gently cradling her back as he reads aloud in a quiet, steady voice. Loud enough only for himself to hear. Enough for her to feel the rumble of his chest when he speaks. The soft rise and fall of her breathing tickles his cheek where her chubby face presses into him, her tiny hand curled in the fabric of his white linen shirt.

Every so often, he glances up from the page, eyes following you as you wander the shore barefoot, collecting small shells and smooth stones. Things for her little fingers to hold, to marvel at.

Sometimes, you join him again. Both of you kneeling in the sand with your babbling baby girl perched in your lap. You and Nanami take your time building crooked little castles, digging moats and shaping towers, only to watch her gleefully slam her tiny fists into them, squealing as the grains collapse under her touch. He chuckles each time, murmuring that it’s good for her sensory development, brushing sand from her face and little hairs before beginning again.

Every now and then, Nanami looks at you.

Just looks. Like the tide has swept something open in his chest and left it raw in the most beautiful way. Sometimes he’s still trying to understand how he got here, how he gets to have this. How he deserves to have this.

There’s a softness in his gaze that lingers longer than the shell rustling in the waves. A quiet, awestruck kind of love that doesn’t need to be spoken aloud, because it’s seen in every glance, every kiss to your lips, every shell gently placed in your daughter’s hand.

He never expected this life. But god, he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Love Hangover⸻ Gojo Satoru x reader

synopsis: "Call me back. Call me back. Call me back." — love hangover by Jennie & Dominic Fike

Cw: toxic relationship, emotional cheating, manipulation, just sex and NSFW stuff, choking (took something from the mv and applied it where I think they implied it :3 ), lot of back and forth, use of the word 'bitch' to refer to the reader (not by Gojo), hate sex, oral sex, fem anatomy, no particular use of pronouns for reader, lowkey angst sorryyy, they are just both pretty shitty lol. Mention of alcohol consumption and cigarettes

'Call me back' received. 2.13AM 

You and Gojo Satoru might be great people, your respective friends will agree. But when you're together it's as if all hell breaks loose. They do not understand. Neither do you two. He makes you so unlike yourself, so unrecognizable, it's often difficult for you to fathom the person you become around him. 

He becomes an unbearable prick; controlling and smothering you, simply too much for you to handle. In return you become a shady bitch; criticizing his every gesture. “Roses instead of lilies? Did you confuse me for someone else?” One day you would be joking over the dinner you made him, next day you would be wishing he was dead. Going through his phone, shouting at him and asking if he is speaking to his exes, was a regular occurrence. Then you won’t talk altogether, but just fight constantly—while lying under your covers together, while eating, on the phone, in public— just making things harder for everyone and yourselves. Until one of you goes;

‘I’m over, I'm so over.’

But you two would always end up where you started. One coincidental meeting with Gojo Satoru somewhere, anywhere, could be that you're across the street from each other; sitting in different restaurants, with different people— and that would be enough for both of you. Doesn't matter he has some girl hanging off his arms. Or the fact you are on a second date with some guy, thinking this might be something serious; a single, double, triple back from him, and suddenly the fact that he was still entertaining his date while you could practically feel his gaze burning your skin, won’t matter—not that it did not bother you. In fact, to put it simply, you do not really mind when he plays you. Because you two will always end up back in each other’s arms. 

‘One minute, we're growin' apart, and next, I'm in her apartment.’

And here you go again. Doesn't matter how many times either of you tell yourselves and your friends that ‘I swear I'll never do it again!’ But you always do it again, and again, and again. He always ends up ringing your doorbell, unannounced. Does not matter you did not pick up his calls, does not matter you did not answer his texts— One “Call me back” at 2 AM, then suddenly he is at your door. And you know he will be there. No matter what, you two always end up in front of each other’s doors. You may not answer his texts or calls; but when you open the door for him and beckon him inside, he will always be welcomed with two glasses of wine. For the sake of the pretense of wanting to have a civil conversation over wine like two grown adults, finally resolving this push and pull and drawing a firm boundary— is all a faux excuse. you still have the keys to his place, and he still has the keys to yours. And they are not being returned any time soon.  

In a flash you're on your couch, back arching off from its surface and fingernails digging in and ruining the fabric. Again. The other hand would be a tangled mess in his hair. The bigger mess would be pooled under you and around his mouth. Again. Eating you out like he has never before, or he might never again. But he knows better than that. 

So, you would start all over again. Things would be blissful for a while. Sweet talking, going on dates, reminiscing about everything which was good. Thinking this time you would take it slow. Take your time with just hanging out and getting to know each other all over again, promising to not repeat the past. All over again. Though when you two would go out for dinner, all that talk would bore you to death. It is not that you feel like staying with Satoru because of who he is, in fact the more you think about that the more it makes you want to leave him, but you want nothing more than to keep him around, forever. And Satoru knows that, hates that really. Always thinking “what's up with that?” — but just as the waiter would bring out the check, you would gaze at him all sultry and go, 

"Let's head to mine."

And all Satoru would be able to utter is , "Okay, awesome."

Subsequently, there would be just lots, lots of sex. Spending days in bed; skipping work, calling in sick, flaking on friends and practically going missing. And everyone would already know what to expect, nothing new, just the cycle repeating itself. 

Spending days in each other’s company giggling about, high on sex and the thrill of having each other back. Then the nights would pass with him being  buried, as deep as he possibly can be, inside of you. Just spending nights watching you get naked instead of watching the movie he chose himself— roaming his hands all over every ridge and curve on your body, encoding new details, leaving kisses and marks all over you. Places where everyone will be able to see, but also places only he would be able to access; tucked away safe even from your own eyes.  Letting the muscles inside your pussy hug him snug, fitting like she has never known anyone but him, because even she knows no matter who comes and goes— his shape will stay. 

As soon as he would get his hopes back up again. Just as soon the momentary bliss would be unexpectedly cut short. One day you are holding each other to sleep after indulging in each other’s bodies, the next moment you are shaking his hands off you and he is waking up with cold sweat all over him. Then you would stop reciprocating his kisses, leaving his lips cracking. Giving short and curt replies to questions, getting irritated over small things. Not that this is unprovoked. Unknowingly to Satoru, before he could delete the texts from the girls flooding his phone and block their numbers; you saw it all.

Back to square one. Fights and nights spent away from each other doing reckless stuff to provoke each other. Because why are you kissing his eyelids and calling him your one and only one moment, and then accusing him of ruining your life another day.

Soon enough you’re going to a club and letting people openly hit on you. Ignoring his calls and texts, to a point he has no choice but to pull up your location (do not ask how he got that). Then letting him drag you back to his place, shout out profanities at you, rip off every piece of clothing from your body. Doing nothing about him pushing you face down on the bed, pulling on the necklace— which he gave you—on your throat from behind and practically choking you, as the necklace leaves behind marks on top of the marks he previously left behind with his lips and teeth. As he thrusts himself inside you, mercilessly, not even letting you turn back around, putting all his body weight on yours— very literally smothering as always. One hand keeping a firm grasp on your throat while the other comes down to place slaps on your thighs and ass, from time to time. You would barely phrase something between loud moans and whines, “F- fuck you.” 

“You are. As always” all he would reply with with a singular impactful thrust. 

Next morning he would wake up to  empty, cold, and wet sheets. A singular half burnt cigarette would be lying on his bedside table, from the stash of cigarettes in his dresser, despite the fact he does not smoke. And a bottle of whisky would be gone from his collection, even though he does not enjoy whisky. All that would be left of your immediate presence, are the shredded to nothing flimsy pair of painties, which you wore last night. Not like you ever went out of his apartment with the same panties you entered through his doors with. 

Concurrently you would be drowning in alcohol, shooting glasses of shots after another to cure the hangover from the day before. You were not one to drink, but you were also not one to be irrational. Yet here you are, hungover and functioning on autopilot. If anyone asked what is wrong, you would not have an answer. Though you do know what this is, the need to never get over this hangover, instead perpetuating and fostering it. Because you know better than anyone that no alcohol will relieve the itch in your throat the way the whisky in Satoru’s cabinet burns down your chest, and alleviates you. You can buy similar whisky, the same brand even, or maybe even a wine or rum— but it won’t taste the same, it won’t get you drunk the same. 

‘I swore l'd never do it again.’

And after a month, Satoru would wake up to a singular missed call from you. 

‘you know I'm gonna do it again.’

a/n: dividers by @/dollywons & @/aquazero, header from the mv for the said song. essentially saw @jumpinglillies talking about wanting to read a Satoru fic based on this song, thanks to them for bringing the song to my attention i hope this lives up to your expectations <3

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nanami prides himself on many things—his discipline, his work ethic, his impeccable taste in ties. but above all, he prides himself on his ability to communicate clearly and concisely, whether in speech or in writing. his text messages are a testament to this:

nanami: I will arrive at 7:30 p.m. Let me know if you need anything.

capitalized. punctuated. grammatically flawless.

then there is you. his lovely girlfriend. his chaotic girlfriend.

you: oks eeu thns

nanami blinks. once. twice. he tilts his phone screen away, then back, as if a different angle might help decipher whatever cryptic language this is. "oks eeu thns" is not english. nor is it japanese. it is… something else. something eldritch.

"what." he mutters to himself.

this is not the first time. nor will it be the last. your texts are a battlefield, a warzone of typos, autocorrect fails, and complete disregard for sentence structure. you do not "text." you unleash a tornado of half-formed thoughts at an alarming rate, as though your thumbs operate on a separate plane of existence.

exhibit a:

you: r u cmg home latr i wan ice cre nanami: Are you asking if I will be home late, and if so, whether you want ice cream? you: ye nanami: …What flavor? you: gimme mint sumn u kno the blue green w the chunks idk idc nanami: You want mint chocolate chip. you: ye

he has, over time, become somewhat of a linguist. an interpreter. a man who now instinctively knows that when you say "bcum," you mean "become" and not whatever horrifying alternative that initially flashes through his mind. but nothing—nothing—prepared him for exhibit b:

you: bby whn u cming hom i wan hug n u also i los a sock idk where she go nanami: I will be home at 6 p.m. I assume you meant to say you lost a sock. you: y au did nanami: What does that mean. you: *ya i did nanami: Understood.

he did not understand. he once tried to gently correct your typos. you responded by sending him "ok grammarly" and proceeding to text even faster with worse errors out of sheer spite. now, nanami has simply adapted.

you: i made pasta bt i dropd some :( rip lil guy nanami: Rest in peace to the fallen. you: he wud hv wantd us to eat his brothr in his honr nanami: Then we shall.

sometimes, he marvels at how two people so fundamentally different could love each other so much. and then he remembers the first time you sleepily texted him "gn ily mwuah" at 1:43 a.m. with no capitalization, no punctuation, just raw, unfiltered affection—

and suddenly, he doesn’t mind deciphering your nonsense at all.

evil papa

summary: satoru being menace nothing new genre: fluff obviously dad!gojo x mom!reader and ur 6 month old son 👶

request

All the problems in your life begin with two words: Boredom and Satoru.

Haru watched Satoru with a cheeky smile. After adjusting the camera, Gojo began unpacking the box.

“Dad got you something,” he exclaimed excitedly.

One day, he saw a video of a child reacting to a talking cactus and decided he had to buy one for his son, but then he forgot about it. Yesterday, however, he got bored at work. While his students argued over something, he was scrolling through his phone and came across the video he had saved. Of course, he immediately ordered the toy online.

He set the cactus up, pressed the button, and placed it in front of the baby.

Your son reached out to touch the toy, exclaiming, “Eeek!”

Eeek!

The sweet smile faded from his chubby face as he shuddered and backed away.

Satoru chuckled at his son's reaction, and the cactus mimicked the sound. Suddenly, the room filled with crying. Haru, who had been trying to stay brave, edged even further away from the toy, his eyes fixed on it the entire time.

You and Satoru exchanged surprised glances.

Amused by his son’s reaction, Satoru couldn’t hold back a laugh. His voice, distorted by the toy, echoed through the room, making the frightened Haru turn toward you. Still crying, he quickly crawled in your direction.

Your evil husband continued to tease his son, grabbing the toy and walking toward you both.

You opened your arms and placed the baby on your lap. “Oh, my poor baby, are you scared?” you cooed softly. The cactus mimicked your words, and Haru shuddered in your arms.

Satoru was laughing silently, covering his face with one hand. “Oh my God, I can’t!” he exclaimed, choking on his laughter.

Meanwhile, Haru’s cries only grew louder.

You kept stroking your son's back, trying to soothe him, though you couldn’t help but crack a grin. “Satoru, that’s enough! You’re scaring him—turn it off!” you said firmly.

Wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, Gojo finally composed himself.

When he glanced at Haru, still crying, he noticed the little boy had buried his face in your neck. Quiet sobs and tiny hands clutching your shirt made Satoru’s smile fade.

“Okay, baby, Papa’s sorry. Look, I turned it off—see?” he said gently.

Haru pressed his chubby cheek against your shoulder, his hiccups breaking the silence. His damp white eyelashes fluttered a few times as he cautiously glanced at Gojo, then shifted his gaze to the green toy in his father’s big palms.

“See? It’s all right,” Satoru said softly, his tone soothing. He moved closer and held out his hands toward his son.

Haru hesitated for a moment before reaching out to his dad, his lips forming a small pout. Gojo gently wrapped his arms around him, brushing away the tears still streaming down his cheeks with a careful finger.

“Now Papa feels bad,” Satoru murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to Haru’s rosy cheek.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” he added, planting more kisses on his son’s tear-streaked face.

You rested your head on Satoru's strong shoulder and whispered conspiratorially, “Your dad is such a fool, right? Let’s punish him and eat all his sweets?"

As if he understood what you were saying, your son cooed.

"Hey!" Satoru exclaimed.

You reached out and lightly touched Haru’s tiny nose.

“Boop,” you said softly. Haru’s lips curled into a small smile.

“Boop,” you repeated, smiling back.

extra

Haru stared warily at the three cactus toys in front of him. Even though he had mostly overcome his fear since their first encounter, and he almost didn’t cry. Almost. Clearly, this toy wasn’t his favorite.

He crawled closer to Satoru, his wary eyes never leaving the green toys.

Gojo, of course, thought he was incredibly funny and couldn’t resist ordering a couple more of the same toys. But hey, don’t rush to judge him. He just wanted his beloved son to overcome his fears. Or at least that’s the excuse he had been rehearsing in his head—since, after all, you didn’t know about the purchase yet.

He patted his son gently on the back and started, “Remember, my son, the best way to destroy your enemy is to make th–.”

“Satoru?! What the f—?”

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this piece might look a little clumsy and weird i just didn’t write for a minute and i forgot how to do it and i forgot english too😞. but it was in my drafts and maybe some of yall missed my baby Haru so here we go. anyway i hope u liked it!!!

i missed yall and Haru missed u too. 👶😘

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