Ding!

ding!

. . . suna rintarou. the responsible one between us.

note. timeskip content + spoilers for the manga franchise ahead. thank you so much, @beanxiv, for recommending me to write more content for rintarou!

“why not?”

“because he shouldn’t have that much, ‘tarou.”

rintarou frowns, evidently dejected, as he pretty much deflates over your shoulder, sulking to himself. he knows that he’ll never win against your judgment, but he still deserves an explanation or two, y’know?

“why?” he asks again, softly this time. “he looks so happy and contented, love. how could you ever resist those cute eyes?”

“you can’t overfeed him,” you sigh with a slightly amused smile. “there’s a saying that too much of a good thing is a bad thing, you know?” you glance at your six-month-old son, who was happily eating his mashed sweet potatoes. “besides, he might get a tummy ache and become fussy. isn’t that right, baby?”

“yes,” rintarou instinctively replies, though he quickly realizes that you were talking to your son in the last sentence. “i mean, yes, you’re right, we can’t overfeed him. that’ll be bad, yes.”

you chuckled, deciding to tease him. “nice save, ‘tarou.”

“y– yeah. . .”

the tips of his ears are a bit red as he wipes off the excess food that got on your son’s cheeks. once you told your son that his sweet potatoes were nearly finished as a simple heads up, the poor baby boy’s head perked up, glancing warily at you and rintarou as if to say, “what do you mean ‘almost done’?”

that couldn’t possibly be, and rintarou almost caved in at the sight of his son’s wary expression, though he remembered what you told him and decided to stop himself from doing so.

“finished,” you said softly, placing a soft kiss on your son’s forehead before heading toward the sink to wash the used baby utensils.

and the moment you got up from your seat in front of your son’s high chair, he quickly burst into tears. rintarou picks him up, attempting to ease the situation.

“i know, i know bub,” he coos, rubbing soothing circles on the baby’s back, though the cries were relentless. “we’re sorry, ok? we can’t let you have anymore. all done, all done.”

“eat the rest of that sweet potato in your mouth first, baby,” you told your son, noticing that he was still sniffling over his father’s shoulder. your son made a noise that seemed like one of disagreement, hiding his face on rintarou’s chest.

“aw, he’s crying.”

you clearly noticed rintarou’s teasing tone.

“well, someone’s got to be the responsible parent, ‘tarou,” you said, playfully smacking his arm. now you two had to think of a way to stop your son from crying. and of course, rintarou would still try and convince you every now and then to let your son have an extra portion, though you knew better than to agree.

but you had to give rintarou credit for being able to lull your son to sleep when the little boy still felt utterly betrayed by you during his moments of enjoying those mashed sweet potatoes.

noomon © 2023. do not copy, modify, or translate my work.

03:47 ෆ ITADORI YUUJI

⠀ for: @driaswrld sorry pookie for the emotional dmg (-ω-、)

“yuu,” you grunt, hands flailing out in the darkness as you try to push your lug of a boyfriend away from you, “stars, you need to stop eating so much, you weigh as much as a tractor trailer.”

the response you get is a long snore, followed by the soft smacking of his lips.

normally, you wouldn’t complain about your sweet boy’s body weight or the comforting pressure of his limbs draped over you, but currently, you’re facing a singularly unique experience that no one has ever seen happen before—you need to pee. badly. yuuji has been bulking lately, meaning for dinner you have to make about three servings of food, all for him, and then a fourth serving for yourself (of which he usually finishes off for you if you can’t manage to eat it all).

not to say you dislike watching your boyfriend’s gym experiences, or even that you discourage them, but you’re just annoyed now that he’s gained about 5-10 pounds of muscle mass that you can barely manage to push him off of you.

he’s not a gentle sleeper. in fact, he’s single-handedly the most violent sleeper you’ve ever met and the first time you’d stayed over at his apartment, he scared you awake at least three or five times. now, you’re so used to his sudden spasms and uncontrollable snoring that it hardly phases you, or you can just ignore it and fall asleep again, but the discomfort of needing to pee has taken precedence over anything else.

yuuji is truly lucky you love him more than anything else, right now, because he’s star-fished himself across your queen-sized bed, an arm over your stomach and his legs flung over both of yours while the blanket is tangled between both of your bodies. he is happily snoozing away, blissfully deep in dream world as you continue trying to push him off.

this wouldn’t be an issue, because despite his bulking and the near constant complaint of ‘yuu, you weigh too much for us to wrestle properly because you always win!’, normally, you can at least shove him off enough to scramble out of the tangle of limbs.

tonight is an issue because he’s clingy.

yuuji is a stage-five clinger in his sleep only a third of the time. most of the time you’re free to come and go as you please, but sometimes, on rare occasion, he can psychically know you’re trying to leave the bed and stop you in his sleep. he’ll grab your waist and shove his face in your neck, he’ll snag a wrist and interlace your fingers, and on the one rare time, he’ll somehow hook his foot around your leg and make you fall back onto the bed. it was insane, the lengths he would go to to make you stay in the comfort of your bed—all while miraculously asleep.

so, you’d tried to sneak out of bed to pee and he’d grabbed your hip, forcing you back into bed with the grip of a man desperate to keep you by his side. you’d find it endearing if you weren’t about to pee your pants.

“i love you,” you whisper, turning your head to press your nose into his cheek and trying to burn a hole in his head, “but i’m gonna murder you if you don’t wake up and let me leave.”

“s’love you.” he mutters. he tilts his head towards you and presses a kiss to your nose.

you narrow your eyes. “what’s megumi’s middle name?”

“francis.”

he’s not awake. the poor boy wouldn’t have lied so easily if he was awake, and you are left to flop against the mattress helplessly.

you hate waking him up because he always looks like someone kicked a puppy in front of him and then told the dog it sucked. it just wasn’t nice and he deserved all the nice things in the world. you also hate waking him up because he is somehow such a deep sleeper. you’d have to be screaming your lungs off at an intruder for him to wake up in perfect lucidity.

you’ll have to find another plan to sneaking away from him and going to the bathroom. you wouldn’t give up, but you’d bide your time. eventually he’d have to move away from you and then, that’d be your chance to slip away.

(you end up falling asleep in his embrace and running to the bathroom frantically when the sun rises.)

First Words~ Gojo Satoru

featuring:- Gojo Satoru, fem!reader, Megumi, Tsumiki, [d/n] is your daughter's name tags:- fluff, reader has a child with Gojo, Megumi and Tsumiki are still kids and live with them, reader is called mama a/n:- oh my god people writing this killed me how do yall write fluff T.T the next fic i write is gonna be hardcore angst as compensation dudhsufi, also my first time writing fluff and jjk hope u like it :)

wc:- 1.1k

masterlists

“Excuse me, sorry to bother you, but have you seen a white-haired man with a small kid anywhere?” You frantically asked the nearest shop employee. You had turned your back on your husband for just a few minutes, which had apparently been enough for him to disappear somewhere into the large supermarket, with your child. Thank the gods atleast Megumi and Tsumiki had the good sense to not follow him. Unfortunately, neither of them had caught Satoru disappearing. 

You tightly held Megumi’s hand to ensure that you two wouldn’t be separated, keeping your eyes peeled for the albino male. Tsumiki, being a little older than him, had decided to independently search for Satoru, both of you agreeing to return to the billing counter once you’d found him. “I swear, when I find him, he’s gonna have it from me.” You muttered under your breath as you hurried with Megumi through the endless rows in the supermarket. 

And voila, where do you finally find him? In one of the multiple rows of the sweets and deserts section, one hand carefully balancing your child and keeping her from grabbing at the chocolates, while he stocked the cart with packets of chocolates, in addition to the pile of donut packets and sweets and what not. You narrow your eyes as you leave Megumi’s hand and angrily stomp towards him, causing him to freeze as if he’s been caught red-handed -which he had been. He hadn’t even finished the humongous stock at home, and he was buying more! At this rate, he deserved to develop diabetes with his crazy sweet tooth.

Satoru nervously grins at you as you narrow your eyes at him. “Oh, darling, there you are-” “Cut the crap, Gojo Satoru. You had me searching for over 15 minutes, do you know that? You weren’t even answering your phone, the sheer audacity. We are outside right now, so I won’t make a scene, but you damn better be prepared when we get home.” You shift your attention from your husband to your daughter, whose eyes had lit up on seeing you and was grabbing at you with her chubby fingers, almost falling out of Satoru’s arms. You let out a sigh of relief as you take her into your arms, giving her a kiss on her forehead, which made her giggle and laugh as she started babbling, attempting to say ‘Mama’. It was always so adorable to see her say gibberish- she was starting to speak these days, much to your and Satoru’s elation. From beside you, Megumi gently held her hand, and she closed her fist tightly around his finger. You gently bend down a bit so that Megumi can squish [d/n]’s cheeks and she can grab his spiky hair with her other hand as both you and Satoru chuckled. 

“Gu.. Gu..Mi… Gumi!” Your daughter suddenly exclaims after many attempts, using the nickname you two had given Megumi. All three of you freeze, amidst [d/n]’s babbling of “Gumi! Gumi!” Satoru is the first one to break out laughing as he throws an arm around Megumi, saying with a grin, “Well, would ya look at that? Her first word isn’t Mama or Papa, its you! Man, I’m a bit jealous, but oh well.” Megumi looks stunned as she sticks out her tongue at him, something she recently learned from Satoru. But slowly, a soft smile spreads across his face as he hesitantly reaches his arms out, asking you if he could hold her. You readily give him his little sister as she starts laughing once again, grabbing two fistfuls of his hair. He doesn’t seem affected as he gently plays with her a bit.

Just then, Tsumiki comes running in. “I see you found him!” She exclaims between pants. “What did I miss?” Satoru happily tells her what happened as [d/n] again shifts her attention from Megumi to you, reaching out for you again. He quickly hands her over to you, satisfied, and she snuggles into your shoulder, mumbling her second word- Mama, as you grin and play with her hair affectionately. Satoru excitedly hurries behind you to see his adorable little daughter’s face, but all she does is frown at him for ‘disturbing her time with her mom’. She turns her face away, burying it into your neck, when Satoru tries to get a reaction out of her by poking and pinching her cheeks. “Cmon, sweets, just say my name once? Just once?” He tried to prod at her, and she glared at him, or well… tried to- she just looked adorable as ever with a baby scowl. Tsumiki giggled at his relentless attempts, finally pulling him away from his daughter with a scolding of “Stop annoying her!” Then she walks up to you for her turn of holding [d/n], welcomingly holding her arms out for her. [d/n] stares at her for a bit, before agreeing, as if deciding that she wasnt likely to annoy her. All four of you ignore Satoru’s gasp of utter betrayal. 

“My own family doesn’t stand by me anymore.” He wept dramatically in the middle of the supermarket as the four of you grin and play with [d/n], who finally says her third word- ‘Miki’. (Store employees and other people give you weird looks but ignore you.) You’re surprised at how quickly she’s learning- probably something she inherited from her dad. Ironically, her dad’s name is the only name she hasn’t spoken yet. 

She quietens down after a while, causing the three of you to look at her in puzzlement. “I guess she’s tired by now.” You hummed as she started reaching out of Tsumiki’s arms again, but towards her dad. He immediately grabs the opportunity, quickly taking [d/n] into his arms. She rests her head on his shoulder, as if she was about to fall asleep, and you all look at your little bundle of joy with a soft smile.

Just before she starts snoring, she mumbles another word, the last one before she falls asleep- ‘Papa’. A warm grin spreads across your husband’s face, as he first looks at his daughter, then at his family- all of whom are smiling happily at him too. 

Luckily for him, the scolding you were supposed to give him at home slipped your mind amongst all the excitement in the supermarket. After all, you do love him and the rest of your family with all your heart, so you suppose you can forgive his childish antics this once. (And many more times in the future too.)

requests are open, and darn it i have no idea how to write fluff aaa. reblogs, tags and comments are very much appreciated , thanks for reading :)

a good thing | s.gojo

raising a kid is hard when you're still a kid yourself. fortunately for gojo, he has you.

august 2009 — ✧

It's horrific. The sight is utterly horrific and all you can do is gape at the surely stained carpet and Gojo Satoru seated on his couch, covered in baby food. 

"What the hell–" you cut yourself off, kicking off your shoes as you rush over to him. You're careful to step over the piles of beige mush scattered across the ground, not wanting to wet your socks. "What are you doing?" 

Satoru stares up at you like it's obvious, clear blue eyes peering over the dark lenses of his sunglasses. "Trying to feed Megumi. This isn't a kid — this is a demon." Megumi looks entirely unimpressed and, lazily, the boy drags his gaze over to you 

"I'm not a baby." 

You let out a defeated sigh. Satoru glares. Megumi rolls his eyes. 

"Stay where you are. I don't need you to track baby mush all over the place," you mumble, ushering Megumi off the couch and towards the bathroom. Satoru whines in response, but you refuse to pay him any mind. Not when he's made a mess out of your (his) living room. 

Megumi follows you with ease. He's taken more to you than he has to Satoru, much to your friend's chagrin. Your early mornings are spent with Megumi by your side, watching you work your way through making him and his sister breakfast. Late nights are spent with him crawling into your bed, too lonely in his room, and you promising him that you won't tell anyone. While Tsumiki makes a conscious effort to show love to both you and Satoru, Megumi doesn't care much for that at all. Satoru calls him tactless, but his honesty can be charming sometimes. 

You open the door to the bathroom, "Get yourself cleaned up. I'll make you an actual lunch in a bit." 

Megumi hesitates in front of the open door, lingering with his weight shifting from foot to foot. You’ve learned to wait when he gets like this; he’s trying to work up the courage to say something. “Sorry about the food,” Megumi mumbles, kicking his foot into the floor. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, ruffling his hair, “It’s alright, Megumi. Next time though, try not to give Satoru such a hard time, okay?” The last few words are whispered, just in case. 

With Megumi taken care of, you fight back a groan and enter the living room once more. Surprisingly, Satoru sits exactly where you left him, shoulders slumped and hair covered in apple-cinnamon baby food. He's chewing on the inside of his cheek, glasses held in his hand as he fiddles with them. Any and all irritation you might have felt leaves you in an instant when you notice just how exhausted he looks — darkness gathering under his eyes. It doesn't take away from how beautiful he is, but it does make your heart ache just a bit. 

You mumble his name to alert him of your presence but you know he must have noticed you already. Satoru has eyes on the back of his head. "What made you think baby food was the way to go?" you ask, sinking into the space beside him. 

He turns to face you, knees knocking against your own as his mouth curls into a pout. "How was I supposed to know Megumi is too old for this stuff?" He gestures wildly to the mush covering him and the floor, "They don't tell you that on the packaging." 

You shuffle into the kitchen, returning with a few napkins bunched together. "Megumi's six, Satoru. At that age, he should be eating regular food like the rest of us." He leans into you as you reach over to wipe the food off his face and out of his hair, careful as you cradle his cheek in your palm. He's warm against your skin; it's hard to think about a time when you didn't know what he felt like beneath your touch. 

"Food's still food," he grumbles, peering down at the half empty jar. You know it's only half empty because its contents are littered all over your friend and the ground, and not because Megumi actually ate any of it. 

Satoru shakes his leg up and down, letting you clean him up. His clothes smell like apple-cinnamon baby food and the whole situation might have had you laughing if it weren't for the frown on Satoru's face. His brows are furrowed, darkening his gaze just a bit as he stares at his hands; you can practically hear the jumble of thoughts bouncing around in his head. 

You don't ask him what he's thinking about, you know he'll let you know eventually, if he thinks you should know. The sunlight streams in through the open windows, leaving shadows along the floor as it worms its way through the gaps in the curtains. You clean up the last of the baby food out of Satoru's hair, brushing a few strands away from his forehead, tucking some behind his ear. 

"This is a disaster, isn't it?" he laughs, though it sounds hollow as it settles into the silence. It's obvious what he's referring to — this goes beyond the mistake he made with the baby food. The both of you are young, too young to be raising children. Satoru carries a burden you will never be able to shoulder for him, let alone understand. You are far too impermanent to give your life to these kids. And yet, the both of you do it anyway. 

You shake your head, "No, we're learning." Parenting comes with a learning curve — you read that in one of the many books you checked out from the local library the day Satoru told you he had children to take care of. 

A sardonic smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, "Yeah, you're learning. I'm buying baby food for a six-year-old." The humour he tries to insert into the sentence doesn't quite come through. Instead, it becomes somewhat obvious that this is nagging at him. One of the rare moments you're able to read Satoru; you know it's only because he's letting you.

You want to tell him that he's trying his best, and his best is good enough. You want to tell him that he's not even twenty yet and, overnight, he's found himself a family to feed. You want to tell him that learning how to love is hard when you’ve lived coexisting with death. 

Instead, you rest your hands on his shoulders as Satoru leans forward, his forehead making contact with your collarbone. He takes a deep breath, your fingers scratch his scalp. "We can share the responsibility," you whisper, your other hand running up the curve of his spine through his shirt. "We'll figure it out eventually, Satoru." 

You wonder if he can hear your heart, the way it slams against your ribcage as the smell of him invades your senses. The traitorous muscle picks up in speed, and the thundering sound of it beating fills your head as Satoru wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close. 

"You're right," he says softly. His breath tickles, brushing over your skin and warming it. You can't help but think that he feels so right in your arms; you wonder if he feels the same way about you. "We'll get it eventually." 

It's all you can do for now — convince yourselves that everything will fall into place with time. You pat Satoru's shoulder to tell him to ease up. "I told Megumi I'd make him lunch."

"Want help?"

"You can help by getting Tsumiki down when the food is ready." 

Things are far from perfect, there's a lot left for you to understand and navigate. Something tells you that the coming years will only get harder from here on out, but between the mistakes and hardships, you've found something irreplaceable. You've found people to love. 

Satoru scoffs, "I'm plenty of help in the kitchen." 

"I know," you concede, biting back a grin, "but I think you should apologise to Megumi first."

You've found a family. 

HE'S SUCH A SWEETHEART, yuuji itadori cw — loving boyfriend!yuuji, perv!yuuji, jock!yuuji, reader and yuuji are in university and reader is an art major, he's literally a wolf in sheep's clothing omg, muscular yuuji.., unprotected sex, oral (f + m receiving), groping, consensual recording, locker room sex, car sex, hickeys, he literally is feral, and ur both equally gross

( EROS WRITES — this is for @murderofravens who made a very good point of yuuji being mischaracterized in writing .. this post specifically inspiring this entire drabble. requests ARE open btw so feel free to request ! )

yuuji itadori is a good boyfriend.

he's sweet. he's loyal. he's charming. your parents love him and await the day the two of you get married in the far future. he never misses a date, nor does he ever miss an opportunity to spend time with you, despite how busy he usually is with practice. sure, he's sweaty and out of breath when he sees you, looking like he's ran a mile just to reach you, but it's okay because you know he's just glad he gets to see you. he even goes out of his way to buy you chocolates and flowers whenever he can!

your friends agree that you're the luckiest out of the entire friend group; blessed with a loving boyfriend who would do anything for you. he goes to all of your art houses, he even buys you a coffee and stays up with you all night in the university's studio, despite having a game or practice the next day.

what your friends don't know about is the numerous hickies that litter your body, because yuuji itadori can't go without putting his hands on his baby longer than five minutes!

the pda in public is kept to a minimum, besides the boy's obvious pervy comments that your friends brush off as jokes or the occasional kiss and hand-holding, but in private? ohh that boy can't get enough of you.

smacking your ass, biting into your skin at any given moment, yuuji can't help it. he loooves the sight of you. he's a total pervert. you've practically given up on buying more underwear because he'll either, a), rip the pair off as soon as he gets you underneath him, or b), steal them and stuff them in his pockets to get off later with them. he stuffs one pair in the pocket of his tights during football practice and claims it's good luck. (you're like, totally embarrassed, but you let him get away with it because you love him.)

they don't know about how he practically pins you to one of the empty benches in the locker room, practically pounding into you to the point where you're sure that you can be heard outside of the room, skin on skin contact louder than the heavy moans and groans the two of you release.

they don't know about the way he'll send you nudes and videos of him fucking up into his fist, even when you're with them, tip of his cock an angry red as the tip leaks. they especially don't know about him recording you as he fucks you, camera capturing the fucked-out expression on your features and the ripple of your ass as he takes you from behind.

they don't know about how the two of you will fuck in his car after a game until the windows get foggy, whether he loses or not. you don't care if he wins or loses because you get fucked real good either way. he'll let you ride him in the front seat when he wins, wearing his jersey because he loves the sight of it on you, or he'll fuck you like a walking stress reliever when he loses.

and they definitely don't know or need to know about the way poor yuuji complains and whines about how condoms just don't feel comfortable on him; how no brand really fits him. and you believe him, with the way his muscles ripple when he stretches his arms. after years of playing sports and working out, your boyfriend is ripped. so you let him fuck you raw and he'll either pull out and finish on your ass or your tits. if he's feeling particularly lazy though, he'll just do it inside. he says it's too much work to actually pull out after a long day, and you don't mind it all too much.

to your friends, yuuji's the kindest boyfriend ever. they don't know about the dirty words he whispers in your ears, calling you his 'good little whore,' or the way he fucks you until he can see tears spilling from your eyes.

he's a sadist, for sure, but you wouldn't have it any other way, not when he kisses your tears away after you're both fucked out, not when he pulls you close into his side and cuddles you.

because yuuji itadori is a good boyfriend. he is sweet. he just has a couple of special interests in private too.

erosuya. (@cafekitsune for divider.)

thinking about collegebf!gojo staying over for the night, constantly complaining about your single size bed.

“stop kicking me.”

“m’not kicking you.”

“Yes, yes you are satoru, don’t even try to deny it.” You huff, grumbling into your pillow.

“Is it my fault that you have a small ass bed?” Gojo exclaims, “I can’t even turn over right, I’ll pull a muscle.”

“leave then.”

your bedroom fills with immediate silence as soon as the words leave your mouth. your stomach nearly drops, regret creeping across your skin. you’ve only been dating satoru for a few months but you’ve known him for years and can already predict his reactions when it comes down to situations like this.

there’s two possible ways he could take this. one: he could turn into a brat and actually leave, giving you the silent treatment until you guilt trip him into talking to you by buying him sweet cinnamon buns for breakfast. or two: he plays along and actually ends up kicking you out…of your own bed.

awaiting his response you whisper his name tentatively.

“satoru—“

“take it back.”

“or what?” you tease, despite there is anxiety in your tone.

“fine then.”

Satoru sits up and reaches for his phone on your bedside table, immediately his fingers start typing, you watch him silently as he scrolls.

your mind gushes over the possible things he’s doing on his phone. finding ways to break up with you? Texting someone to pick him up? Ordering an Uber to leave?

the thought of it makes the regret take control over your whole body.

“I take it back!” you exclaimed suddenly, your arms wrapping around him, securing him tightly so he can’t leave. “m’sorry,” you kiss him between your speech,”don’t leave me — I’ll buy — you all the cinnamon— buns that you want.”

“whoa, whoa, whoa, who said anything about leaving? If anything we’re leaving together.”

“we?” you repeat.

“I’m looking for one bedroom apartments with a double bed.” He emphasises on the last part, “m’ getting sick of these dorm rooms.”

“wait really? you want to—“ you pause, swallowing thickly as the words come out of your throat.

“you want to live together?”

Gojo looks up, the glow of his phone screen illuminating his face.

“Of course baby, unless you don’t want to?”

“I do!,” you say exasperatedly, “I want to. I just didn’t think…”

“what?”

“well, right now? we don’t even have any—

“shhh—“ satoru presses a finger to your lips, “don’t start worrying that sweet little head of yours sweetheart, I’ve got it all figured out.”

you frown, pulling away his hand, “don’t sign anything without letting me see it first satoru” you warn.

“or course!” He says, “what do you take me to be, an idiot?

“sometimes.”

satoru glances up at you, his expression declares full offence. this is the moment where he’d choose to get up and leave but thankfully your sweet lips play as a smart distraction.

“but you’re my idiot, satoru, and I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else.”

“would you still buy me all the cinnamon buns-“

“no.”