Cannibalism. Gojo Satoru

How I feel after skipping past all the smut in a fanfic cause I’m only in the mood for fluff

can someone help me find this one fic😭 it was a nanami fic and he was readers’ neighbor. I remember the readers ac broke so she went for a swim at nanamis house????

When tumblr refreshes itself and the fic I was reading fucking disappears forever 💔

I’ve been searching for a smau I was reading for three days 😔

baby daddy!sukuna aesthetic:

readers aesthetic:

the first time it happens, sukuna doesn't even react.

your daughter, a tiny little thing with a head full of wild hair that looks just like his but with your color, storms up to him while he's adjusting his tie. she's got a determined look on her face, a plastic figurine clutched in her tiny hands—a sonny angel doll, of all things.

"papa, hold," she demands, her chubby fingers working to shove it into the breast pocket of his pristine, custom-made suit. he looks down at her, red eyes blinking slowly. then he looks at you, standing off to the side, barely holding back your laughter.

"what is this?" he asks flatly.

"sonny angel," your daughter says like it's obvious. "he's cute. for you."

you make a choked noise behind your hand, and sukuna exhales through his nose. his baby girl, his tiny menace, is standing there with all the confidence of someone who has never been told 'no' in her life. because, well. she hasn't. so what does he do? he lets her shove the damn thing in his pocket. adjusts it a little so it's sitting neatly, because if he's going to have a tiny cherub-faced baby figurine sticking out of his suit, it's at least going to look intentional.

"happy?" he asks.

his daughter beams at him, gives his pant leg a firm pat like he's done a good job, then scurries off to continue whatever other toddler nonsense she was up to before this. you’re wheezing in the corner.

"don't say a word," he warns, fixing his cuffs.

you grin. "i didn't say anything."

cut to his meeting later that day. sukuna walks in like he owns the place (because he does), radiating his usual aura of dominance and unrelenting authority. his executives are already seated, tense and ready, knowing full well that sukuna does not entertain idiocy. but today? today there is something new. today, nestled neatly in the breast pocket of his three-piece suit, is a tiny, plastic baby figurine wearing a duck hat.

the entire room freezes.

one poor soul, likely new and unaware of how the corporate hierarchy works under sukuna, makes the grave mistake of letting out the faintest, almost imperceptible snort.

sukuna turns his head very slowly.

"who the fuck just laughed?"

silence. absolute, suffocating silence. the man looks down at his notes as if they might save him from impending doom.

sukuna leans back in his chair, tapping a clawed finger against the conference table.

"anyone else got something to say about my sonny angel?"

no one breathes.

good.

he conducts the rest of the meeting as if nothing is out of place, occasionally adjusting the little doll in his pocket like it's just another part of his attire.

by the end of the week, rumors have spread. no one dares to question the sonny angel. entire powerpoint presentations are given with the utmost professionalism while a tiny, smiling cherub peeks out of sukuna’s suit.

by the end of the month, it becomes an unofficial rule of the office. mock the sonny angel? fired. make a comment? fired. even looking at it for too long earns you a pointed glare.

and by the end of the quarter, the entire upper management team has started discreetly wearing their own sonny angels in solidarity. your daughter, completely oblivious to the corporate chaos she has caused, simply continues her toddler life, happy and content in the knowledge that her papa always carries her gift with him.

and sukuna? well. if having a tiny plastic baby in his pocket means seeing his little girl’s delighted grin every morning, then so be it.

what if everyone voted for logan for driver of the day on sunday because bro is spending 4th of july in england

can someone make a gojo fic inspired by the song love hangover plsplsplspls actually it doesnt even have to be gojo

max catstappen for ur consideration

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Summary: Megumi receives a lot of gifts from Santa.

Warnings: Fluff

*Merry Christmas my loves, and happy holidays🫶 got a new game so don't expect a lot from me. also don't read too much into this, just enjoy the drabble!

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi - Bluesky

Christmas morning, the most exciting morning of the year. Little Megumi is too excited to see what Santa has left for him under the Christmas tree. His birthday just passed, but that day isn’t as exciting as Christmas morning. One present is nothing compared to a mountain of gifts.

“Santa came!” Megumi barges into your bedroom, waking you and Toji first thing in the morning. Toji complains, mad that his slumber is interrupted for nothing. You, on the other hand, are as excited as Megumi. You can’t wait to see his reaction to the gifts that Santa brought for him. 

You drag Toji out in your matching pajamas, while the man complains about being exhausted. He had to keep an eye on Megumi last night, he wanted to make sure that the child wasn’t trying to catch Santa Claus at the wrong moment. 

“Can’t he wait a minute?” Toji complains, but neither of you listen to the old man. The exhaustion quickly goes away when he sees all the gifts under the tree– That’s all his money. But he won’t jump to conclusions yet… Maybe it’s just some cheap gifts, nothing to worry about.

You two take a seat on the couch as Megumi runs to get his gifts.

“What does that read, Megumi?” You ask him before Megumi tears the wrapping paper to shreds. 

“To Megumi, from mom and dad.” Megumi reads, and Toji’s eyebrows perk up. Megumi opens the gift to find a jacket, nothing too fun for the little guy who tosses it to the side.

“Hey! Let me see that!” Toji yells, and Megumi pouts as he grabs the jacket and hands it back to his father. Toji snatches it out of the child’s hands, telling him, “You could be a little more grateful.”

“Thank you.” Megumi dryly responds, as Toji reads the brand of the jacket. Like hell the gift was from the two of you, Toji is just seeing this exists.

“Expensive brand.” Toji’s eyes narrow before looking at you. You kiss his cheek before resting your head on his shoulder, a trick that always works to help him calm down.

“He’ll wear it a lot.” You respond, and Toji sighs. He guesses you’re right. Toji just hopes that not everything under that tree is as expensive.

“Santa got me a Nintendo Switch!” Megumi exclaims not even a minute later, and Toji’s hand goes over his heart. Oh, this is it. This is what’ll kill him.

“Santa?” Toji responds, slowly turning his head to look at you. You’re smirking, guilty as charged. To add more salt to the wound, Megumi yells,

“And some games!”

Toji had nearly forgotten that he hated this holiday– By the time he’ll financially recover, Christmas will roll around again.

gojo’s son calling him baby because he heard gojo calling you that. precious

HHHH I KNOW :(( Satoru always encourages infant babbling (speaks animatedly and listens with the same enthusiasm even when it’s just incoherent noises), and the kid has taken to incorporating some key phrases into his vocabulary—learning to ask for more when he’s hungry, asking for his dad to keep playing with him, saying “thank you” and “i love you” (Satoru’s personal favorite, because his L’s do sound a little like W’s and he coos every time)—but he’s also picking up on things you and Satoru say to eachother. So, it’s only natural that hearing his parents refer to each other as “baby,” makes the toddler believe that that’s a normal part of speech he can start saying.

The first time it happens, Satoru is coming back from work. He can hear giggling in the kitchen, and when he makes his way there he’s greeted with the sight of his son in his high-chair clapping happily as you scoop some of his dinner onto his plate. Satoru reaches to you first, and arm curling around your waist and his lips pressing to your cheek. You’re about to return the greeting when the words are spoken for you, a high-pitched and excited squeal from your toddler in place of your own voice, “Home, baby!” Satoru pauses and blinks, pointing a finger at his chest and observing as his son only grins wider, making grabby hands for his father. He repeats the phrase again, this time attempting a broken syllable version of the word “welcome,” that makes Satoru’s heart swell three sizes. He’s quick to scoop his son right out of the chair, twirl him around and press kisses to his cheek, “Missed you so much, too, baby!”

First it’s you and Satoru that get called baby as greetings, but soon it extends to other people. When Megumi comes over to babysit the following week, he’s met with excited squeals and raised arms (demands to be picked up), before his cheeks are squished between baby-sized palms and he’s formally greeted with, “Hi, baby!” The look on Megumi’s face is priceless—slightly red and embarrassed, but beyond fond—and he gives the kid a gentle pat on the head before telling him he missed him, too. When it’s time for Megumi to return home for the evening, he gets soft hugs and tired yawns, the words “Bye, Memi. Night, baby,” barely getting out.

Your son is a fast learner, it seems. He quickly realizes he can use the word outside of greetings and goodbyes, and tries it out with his uncle Nanamin the next time he’s over at his house. Nanami is leaning over the counter, watching carefully as the toddler eats his lunch. He reaches over to wipe some smeared tomato away from his mouth as he’s finishing up his food, and that’s when the baby grins at him, looking his uncle (godfather, really, but he doesn’t know that yet), right in the eye before saying, “Thank you, baby.” Kento only smiles softly, continuing to gently wipe down his cheeks, before cradling his head and musing, “You’re more than welcome.”

You and Satoru debate which one of you he’s been picking this up from. You think the obvious choice is your husband—Satoru’s always been the more affectionate one, and pet names comes easy to him. He argues that your son gets it from you, and that he listens more carefully to his mom. Your theory is proven correct when your son is curled up in your lap shortly after dinner time, hands reaching to be held against your chest and rocked to sleep. You think he’s finally dozing off when you hear a small, and tired, “‘Night, my baby,” from your toddler’s lips. You look up to Satoru, who grins, leaning down to kiss the top of his son’s head and then your forehead. He takes after this father, without a doubt; because while every body else was baby, only your boys had the honor of refer to your as their baby.