Nanami Prides Himself On Many Things—his Discipline, His Work Ethic, His Impeccable Taste In Ties.

"i told you not to lie down on the floor with them." you watched as your husband struggled to get little tsumiki to let go of his hair, while megumi decides on climbing his father's back.

"don't ya scold me, woman. i didn't ask for this."

"you definitely were when you decided to get me pregnant."

he doesn't reply, only glaring at you while still trying to get tsumiki to let go.

"pa... pa-paaa..." his little girl babbles, letting go of his hair only to grasp his shirt, putting it in her mouth and starting to chew on it.

he smiles in adoration, rubbing tsumiki's back with his large hand and reaching behind to prevent megumi from falling. he looks up at you, admiring you while you rub your swollen belly.

"y'so pretty, mama." he spoke, and the baby in his arms latches away from his shirt, looking up at her father and at you with her big round eyes.

toji looks down at his baby girl with a small smile, "mama's pretty, ain't she, baby? hm?"

"ma-ma..." tsumiki coos, flashing you a gummy smile.

"aww, my baby!" you sniffled, trying to get up to hug your baby and stop your tears.

"ah, ah. no. don't even." toji stops you, sighing in relief when megumi finally decides to get off his back, only to run towards you.

"mama!" megumi exclaims, resting his head on your belly. you smiled, ruffling his hair.

oh, how you cherished moments like these with your little family.

husband!nanami who is also the father of your 2 children. dated for 6 years and married for 3–you couldn’t ask for anything more.

husband!nanami who is visibly confused during a conversation he had with his colleagues.

nanami usually avoids the break room whilst it was crowded. unfortunately, on a rare day that he’s forgotten to pick up his coffee from his favourite café, he had to walk into a break room full of a bunch of his coworkers talking about their children’s birthdays. they immediately turn to nanami who was standing in the corner and involved him in the conversation.

“it’s my daughter’s birthday soon. yeah i’m probably getting her one of those dolls and shit—she’s turning 5.” the suited up man takes a sip out of his coffee.

nanami nods apprehensively, wishing to leave the room already. “that’s nice. what are you getting for your wife?” he asks.

“what?” all four of his coworkers turned to look at him, and suddenly it felt like an episode of The Voice.

“…don’t you get your wife a gift when it’s your children’s birthdays??” the only time nanami is ever confused is when he does crossword puzzles. this.. is a whole different level.

his coworkers laugh at the absurd statement, some scoff and one pats nanami on the back.

—

nanami drives back home from work but he was more quiet than usual. he would typically turn the radio on and tap his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat. the car however was dead silent.

“who doesn’t give their wife a gift..? tch.”

“do these young men even love their wives anymore? eugh.”

“y/n always seems really happy when i give her gifts on the girls’ birthday.. i can’t imagine not giving her any.”

—

he arrives home and parks in the garage, sighing and cracking his back before bursting through the door.

“i’m h—” before he could finish his sentence, his 3-year-old twin girls came running to hug him.

“daddy! daddy! you’re home!” they giggle and cling onto his legs as nanami leans over to place his hand on your back and kiss your lips. “hello my darlings,” he smiles.

“you’re home early.”

“just missed my girls a lot.”

—

it’s 11pm. the kids are asleep and you’ve done your skincare, the night lamp on as you lay in bed with your husband.

as you snuggle under the sheets, you suddenly feel big arms snake around your torso. you giggle and pull them closer to you before deciding to turn around and face the man beside you. you lay your head on his chest and he immediately caresses your back.

“my love?” nanami speaks up.

“yeeeees?” you sing. he holds you tighter now, before uttering: “you know how i give you a gift for the girls’ birthday?”

you smile softly at the memory—how could you forget? every birthday for three years, he always manages to surprise you with a gift. he treasures the day dearly. it’s your daughters’ birthday but it’s your birth-day.

“i just found out that not every father does that. at least.. my coworkers don’t.” you look up at him now, seeing his scrunched eyebrows and solemn pout—you can already tell it bothers him. “it’s absurd, isn’t it? what do you think?”

you hum, your eyes never leaving his expression. “to be honest, i’ve never witnessed someone do what you do. it’s not exactly common practice,”

nanami sighs, “i guess you’re right. i just love you so much, you know? i’ll keep showing my appreciation on the day that means a lot to me, to us. it’s the day we became a family and i.. i want to make sure you know how important you are, too.” his voice is soft, as though he's been carrying this thought for a while. you blink, the weight of his words settling in your chest. he doesn't say it often, but when he does, it’s clear he means every syllable.

a small laugh escapes you, touched by his sincerity. “i know, baby. and i’m thankful for it, for you.”

he presses a kiss to your forehead, his arms tightening around you as if he’s trying to hold on to the moment. “me too, darling. more than you’ll ever know.”

͙͘͡★ dividers by @bernardsbendystraws & @cafekitsune 👔

A man who never shies away from awkward silence

toji fushiguro is not a man of structure.

he sleeps when he’s tired, eats when he’s hungry, and doesn’t bother with trivial things like routines or household organization. his apartment is livable, sure, but it’s clear he doesn’t put much thought into it—clothes draped over furniture, dishes left in the sink, mail stacked haphazardly on the counter. he knows where everything is (more or less), but it’s not exactly functional.

then you move in.

and suddenly, there are little signs of change.

the first time he notices, it’s in the kitchen—his mismatched, barely-there collection of plates and cups has doubled. your things now sit alongside his, an extra coffee mug on the counter, a set of utensils that actually match.

then, in the bathroom—your toothbrush next to his, your skincare products cluttering the sink. it should annoy him, but it doesn’t. if anything, he finds himself lingering there a little longer, just to see the proof that you’re here.

his bed, once a mess of tangled sheets he never bothered to fix, is suddenly made in the mornings. not neatly, not perfectly, but enough that it looks intentional. toji never cared before, but when you crawl into bed at night and sigh, all content and cozy, he thinks… maybe it’s nice.

it’s a slow shift, but he adjusts—without realizing it, without meaning to.

and then one day, you notice.

you’re standing in the entryway, slipping your shoes on, when something catches your eye. a small wooden tray by the door, something you’re sure wasn’t there before.

and sitting inside it—your keys, alongside his.

your breath catches.

toji, already halfway out the door, glances back. “you comin’?”

you don’t answer right away, just staring at the little tray.

“…did you put this here?” your voice is quiet.

he shrugs. “you always lose your damn keys. figured this’d help.”

your eyes burn.

toji sighs. “don’t start crying over a tray.”

but it’s not just the tray. it’s everything—the way he started putting his laundry in the hamper because you do, the way he doesn’t leave dishes in the sink anymore because he knows you’ll wash them if he does. the way he bought an extra blanket because you always get cold, the way he waits to eat if you’re not home yet.

you sniffle. “you changed for me.”

he steps closer, tilting your chin up. “didn’t change, baby. just—” his thumb brushes your cheek. “—made space.”

your lip wobbles. “for me.”

he smirks. “who else?”

and when you throw yourself at him, arms wrapped tight around his waist, toji just chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

The fact that humans can be killed through physical means is so ridiculous to me

cannibalism. gojo satoru

fluff ‐ parents au. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ non sorcerers au, slice of life, mom!reader, unnamed 2yo son (no eldest nor baby gojo cameo). inspired by that tiktok >⩊<

little sunshines au

"i think it's time."

your husband's tone has you placing your book down on your lap at the concerning amount of seriousness seeping from it. it's unusual to hear him (or see him) this humorless, so your heart sinks a little in panic.

"wha–"

the words die down in your mouth when he pushes your youngest son forward.

"repeat what you said."

your son's blue eyes glance at his dad, doubtful, before switching to you.

"what's mochi?"

satoru lets out a disappointed sigh, rubbing his temples as he seems to need a moment to collect himself. but all you can seem to convey is confusion, your toddler looking back and forth between you and your husband, not understanding what's going on.

"explain to me how a child of mine does not know what mochi is." satoru walks in circles around the living room before stopping abruptly with an accusatory finger pointed at you. "this is–"

"satoru gojo, don't point your finger at me."

"yes. sorry, honey." he immediately drops his arm and pouts. "when he thought his name was mochi, I thought it was hilarious. it was cute! but this?"

ignoring the weird rant from your husband, you pull your son closer and offer the explanation he's waiting for.

"it's a sweet treat." you say softly, his little mouth parting in understanding. "but papa and I call you and your siblings 'mochi' because we think it's cute."

"swee-tree!" he claps enthusiastically, a happy grin on his face.

he knows what a sweet treat is. he makes sure to pout extra extra hard to get his dad to give him an extra cookie for snack time.

craddling your son in your arms, you head to the kitchen and get the mochi from the freezer, leaving a sulking satoru behind.

"this... is mochi."

the powdery ball of rice sits on the palm of your hand like an offering to your toddler, his gaze curious before breaking into a cheeky grin.

"me!"

he leans forward, and you watch his baby teeth sink into the soft exterior, the mochi melting around his parted lips. the taste quickly hits his taste buds, and the reaction is immediate: an expression full of awe that you've never seen before on him—you can even see his pupils dilating.

"woah..." a mere whisper, but it's heavy with the innocence of child-like wonder.

"is it good?"

"yummy!" he bites again, his little face brightening up with each bite. "mochi loves mochi, mama."

your heart grows warm at his silly words, wondering how come you never thought of this before. your eldest tried it years ago, before your toddler was born, so it must've slipped your mind.

fed up with being left behind, satoru joins you in the kitchen and butts in, staring at the box of mochi with stars in his eyes as he reaches for one.

"can I try?" the question is clearly rethoricall since he takes the bite-sized mochi in his mouth without waiting for a reply.

but your little one squeals in horror, his chubby little hands closing around the fabric of your shirt and looking shaken to the core.

"nooooooo!" he's overcome with despair, dramatically letting his small body fall against your chest as if he just got wounded. he turns to look at you pleadingly, his blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. "papa eat me! papa eat mochi!"

"bwaby–"

satoru is devastated for the rest of the day, your son giving him a nasty side-eye whenever he gets too close to his liking.

your husband tries to reach out to him, wide-eyed and with a mouthful of mochi, only to have your son recoil away from his open arms.

an amused snort escapes you. "yeah... i don't think that's a good idea."

🧎‍♀️‍➡️

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

"It's all in your head." - Thank you Janette, that's why it's called mental illness. It cannot be in my ass.