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“what the hell?” satoru mutters to himself, scratching his undercut in confusion.
one second he was fighting a curse, and the next, he was at the gojo residence. and he’s 99% certain that he didn’t somehow accidentally teleport.
he shrugs it off, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he begins to walk through the gardens.
must be a dream, he thinks to himself.
a hyper-realistic dream because when he breathes in, he smells the familiar incense that could somehow always be smelled from outside. and a shadow flies over him which he automatically assumes is a grey heron.
what really makes it confusingly realistic is his favourite ball from when he was a child bouncing into view. he instinctively catches it and holds it under his foot.
then, satoru comes running into view-- wait…
he has to stop himself from yelling, his mouth falling open the widest it’s ever been as he stares at himself. just smaller. shorter. so young. no older than eight years old.
he laughs to himself, unnerved. “this really must be a dream.”
the younger version of himself crouches down to pick up the ball from under his foot and he lets him take it.
it’s like the sky reflected onto water when his eyes meet his own. on a face smaller than his, but still his. he feels like he truly is staring into the eyes of his eight-year-old self. a half-pout, half-scowl on his younger version’s mouth.
“watcha doin’, little ‘toru?” he asks, squatting down to his level.
“wouldn’t you like to know?” the smaller version shoots back, looking at the older satoru with caution. he can only guess it’s because they look the exact same. well, they are the same.
satoru pauses and blinks before breaking into laughter. what a stuck-up brat he used to be.
“well then, let me skip inside and let the elders know you’re neglecting your duties,” he says teasingly. a joke. he would never take away his younger self’s childhood even if it was just a dream.
but he immediately regrets making that joke when the little scowl disappears and a sulk takes over. snowy eyebrows knit together in slight panic. bright, blue eyes swirling with a plea before his gaze downcasts, cheeks drooping sadly.
something in satoru’s heart aches. feeling the distress of being a child who could never truly be a child all over again. something that reverse cursed technique could never heal.
“i’m kidding, buddy. play all you want.” satoru stands back up, reaching out to ruffle his little self’s hair who shakes his hand off and draws back. “just… hang in there, alright? everything’s gonna be okay, i promise,” he whispers, something broken in his voice.
satoru feels stinging behind his eyes, threatening to spill years of a stolen childhood and a burden that only the strongest could carry.
the younger version of him tilts his head at the taller man - the same way he tilts his head to this very day when he’s confused.
“old man… why are you crying?”
“did you just call me old, you br-- wait, what?” satoru says, reaching up to touch his own cheek. he, in fact, does feel salty moisture rolling down the curve of his cheek. “oh… uh, that’s um allergies. yeah, allergies”
but little him scrutinises him like he doesn’t believe his older self. but before he can say anything else, an elder’s voice calls for him from inside, most likely for training.
all satoru hears is a mumbled “weirdo” before his younger self scurries away with a pout tugging at his mouth. and he can’t help but let out a wet chuckle, wiping his face with the heel of his palm.
he watches him go, leaning against the wall with a soft smile touching his lips.
“everything’s okay,” he murmurs to himself under his breath. a sense of peace settling within him.
after wandering around for a while longer, hiding from clan members because something tugs at his gut that this isn’t a dream, he’s suddenly warped back to the abandoned lab where he was dealing with the curse. said curse nowhere to be seen because he had exorcised it before whatever the hell just happened.
he heaves out a breath before immediately teleporting home. to his home. you.
he’s wrapping himself around you from behind, slumping against you and burying his face into the side of your neck.
“my love?” you say softly, surprised and confused but not resisting. you rest a hand on his arm that’s looped around your stomach, brushing your thumb back and forth. “what happened?”
moisture patters against your neck and you freeze, but you don’t force him to speak or lift his head. you let him hold you. let him breathe you in shakily.
“… i love you so much,” he finally murmurs, lips moving against your neck like he’s trying to etch the words into your skin. “i love you. thank you for loving me. fuck, what did i do to deserve you?” he whispers the last part to himself, in disbelief.
“satoru,” you say a bit more firmly this time. hearing him self-deprecate always caused your heart to twist. it made you want to undo the years of trauma that he never deserved. “what’s going on? was your mission okay?”
he laughs softly, then nods. “would you believe me if i said that i think i time-travelled to the past? like, twenty years back.”
“… did you knock your head against something? should we get you to shoko?”
satoru laughs again, louder this time, heartier. he lifts his head from your neck, his face blotchy with stained tears, eyes twinkling with amusement rather than tears now.
“i’m okay, i promise. more than okay. life is perfect,” he grins, feeling ever so thankful for how his life turned out. thankful for you.
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Hello beautiful ppl. My efforts to return to gooning may have to wait till the end of the year. But I drew this Sukuna. I will be at SMASH CON 4i.05 and this will be available as a print
husband!gojo who peers into the kitchen like a cat just hoping to snatch the baked goods you make off the baking tray.
husband!gojo who pouts whenever you swat his hand away from the delicious treats resting on the cooling rack.
husband!gojo who loves to bake with you because it means he gets to lick the cookie dough or icing off of a spatula.
husband!gojo whose nose scrunches in concentration every time you give him a cupcake or a layer of cake to cover in a thin coat of your lemon buttercream frosting. he takes a strange amount of time to pipe delicate details onto the cake, purely because he likes your praise.
husband!gojo who loves to make heart shaped cookies just because you find it sweet.
husband!gojo whose social media feed is filled with pastry chefs teaching their audience how to make desserts or how to elevate certain dishes, he secretly saves them hoping to make something for you.
husband!gojo who loves it whenever you make any kind of cultural desserts you have.
husband!gojo who gets frustrated with his egg whites not reaching the optimum level of fluffiness like yours do.
husband!gojo who surprises you with cool gadgets to make your baking process a lot smoother.
husband!gojo who only gets the freshest and most expensive ingredients to fuel his mild (strong) sugar addiction.
husband!gojo who squeals like a school girl whenever you pack a snack into his bento box, and practically combusts when he sees the cute note you write him.
husband!gojo who loves taking you on trips and especially loves going food tasting outings with you.
husband!gojo who makes a private Instagram account just for the two of you to post your food reviews or silly time lapses of both of you navigating a new recipe.
husband!gojo who looks fondly at the poor attempt of the ‘blind, mute, deaf” challenge video the two of you made for fun.
husband!gojo who got you matching hello kitty aprons.
husband!gojo who never ever lets you do the dishes because after all you did spend nearly a day making the perfect eclairs for him to suck up like a vacuum.
the first snow in tokyo with bf!geto - 0.4k words, fluff ₊˚⊹౨ৎ ₊˚⊹
“have a wonderful night!”
as you and geto left the restaurant you were both immediately hit with the freezing winds of a late night in january. you immediately tense up from the shock, only to soon feel the warmth of geto’s leather jacket being placed on you, practically swallowing you whole from how big it was on you.
“fuck, the weather app said it wouldn’t even go below 10 degrees tonight.” he let out an annoyed tch
you can’t help but laugh seeing his irritated expression. as his girlfriend geto was always determined to go all out for you. he considers it a miracle that he even has such a beautiful woman like you who looks at him so lovingly, treating you like a princess is what he sees as the bare minimum.
“its okay baby, let’s just hurry up and get home” you tugged on his elbow as you both started speedwalking through the parking lot. when you finally get to the car, geto immediately starts searching his pockets to find where he put the key. as he’s doing so, you were rubbing your hands back and forth, trying to get any feeling of warmth.
then you felt it.
a little snowflake had landed on your nose. you look to geto to see some had fallen on the top of his silky hair, clearly going unnoticed by him.
the first snow of the year.
“suguru, look”
he immediately lifts up his head to follow your gaze up at the sky, you hear a slight gasp come out of his mouth.
you turn to face him and lift your arm to lightly stroke his hair, “you didn’t even feel the snowflakes at all” you nearly whispered the words, followed by a soft giggle.
geto leaned into your embrace with ease. “yeah,” he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, “i guess i didn’t.”
while looking back up to the sky you began to think out loud. “you know, and maybe this makes me sound like a little kid, but i’ve always wanted to experience the first snow with my lover. something about it is just…romantic.”
geto made an understanding hmmmm.
“i guess i never thought of the first snow that way. all of the previous ones i can only faintly remember because i was on trips.” he turns to look at you and interlocks his hands with yours.
“but if part of loving you means doing this together, then i’ll look forward to it every year. until my hair becomes as light as the snow.”
a/n - this hot ass weather has me reminiscing on winter 💔💔
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nanami laid you down gently on the mattress, his familiar scent crowded you almost immediately as you buried half your face deeper into his pillows, filling your nose with a propinquity that felt like home.
nanami stood close by the bed, gazing at you in a state of unreadiness. his usual slicked back hair was now down and unruly, navy shirt fit him snugly making his arm looked extra delicious, loose pants hanging on his torso. it had been a little late when you called him drunkenly to pick you up, he knew you were on a night out with shoko.
“ugh, it’s so hot,” you mumbled, reaching out to grab the hem of his shirt; nanami played along with a quiet smile on his face, moving a step closer just so your hand could reach. you pulled, beckoning him to sit on the side of the bed, he obliged easily, brushing away the hair that’s sticking on your face. “it’s warm, take off your shirt,” you blinked at him, as he chuckled softly.
“why should i take off my clothes when you’re the one feeling warm, hm?” he asked with a soothing voice, stroking your hair over and over.
“global warming, and stuff,” you rambled, giving up in putting sense on your sentence. nanami looked at you with wonder, curious to hear what amusing things will come out of your mouth next.
“i wonder what’s going on inside this head right now,” he said, rubbing his thumb gently at the side of your forehead. you sighed deeply, enjoying his touch.
“i want a kiss,” you claimed suddenly, proving his point. nanami shot a defeated smile, his eyed narrowed in adoration as he caved, planting a short kiss on your lips; his hair tickling your skin as he leaned down. nanami pulled away before you could savor the feel of his mouth thoroughly.
“more.”
he kissed you once more.
“more.” you whined softly, not liking how he ended each kiss so fast.
the only respond you received was a soft brush of his finger on your bottom lip as he said, “that’s all you’re getting tonight love.”
nanami saw your dramatic expression change, frowning as though it’s the end of the world. a hearty laugh escaped him at your theatric, rubbing your cheek with the back of his index finger, his touch felt feather light against your side, “you’re terribly drunk, the only thing you need to be doing right now is sleep.”
“not drunk,” you mumbled, even though sleep sounded amazing in your ear right now as you felt your eyelids getting heavier by the second, nanami’s ever so softly touch didn’t help you in staying awake at all.
“if you say so,” he replied easily, getting up from his spot without words, leaving you alone in bed. you flashed an exaggerated pout as if the man could still see you, not knowing he’s already returned to the same spot within a minute with a familiar looking bottle on his right hand.
“i don’t wanna drink anymore,” you murmured, giving him a pleading look. nanami chuckled.
“i’m not making you drink this, silly girl,” he claimed gently, pouring three drops of the liquid content to a cotton pad you’re just now seeing, before wiping away your face tenderly like you’re made of glass.
right. that’s your bottle of make up remover. “oh.”
the soft dab of the cotton on your face over and over made you sleepier, the consistent rhythm of rubbing and tapping nanami was working wonders, almost like a magician in soothing you. but the focused expression on his face as he leaned close to you held you back from going into the dream land.
“you’re so handsome,” you whispered, staring the man like he hung the moon.
“am i? thank you love,” he replied without missing a beat and at this point you knew this man would always respond patiently to whatever nonsense you were cooking in your mind even though it's easier to ignore what you're saying while you’re under the influence, instead he was spoiling you rotten.
“what about me? am i pretty?” you asked, eyes half-lidded.
“the prettiest.” he smiled tenderly, stopping just to give you a smitten look before going back to work, the soft wipes of cotton underneath your eyes knocked you right into a daze, deciding to just close your eyes because it was too mush work to keep them opened
“ken?”
“yes love?”
"d’you think cats are sad they don’t get to blow candles on their birthday?” you asked in a serious tone, half your body felt like it’s being pulled into slumber, nanami’s laugh sounded like as though it’s underwater.
“maybe, but they’re going to be even more sad if you don’t go to bed now,” he said, the last thing you heard was the sound of an object being put on the bedside table and the feeling of your hair being brushed gently. nanami saw it happened as your breath slowed, head limping to the side.
he kissed your head softly, adjusting the blanket and tucked you all proper.
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[𝜗℘] :: a (not-so) relaxing day at the beach with dad!toji and little megumi’s shenanigans :: tags. wife!reader, fluff.
the beach is a beautiful place to rest after a tough week. toji lays on the towel beside yours, bulky arms resting behind his head as he enjoys the gentle breeze.
however, the peace is quickly disturbed when he feels a small fist claw at his mouth.
“‘gumi, don’t feed papa sand,” your muffled laughter echoes through the busy beach. you watch your husband attempt to fight off megumi’s tiny hands as they pry his lips apart.
toji grunts and moves his head multiple times, but the toddler is determined to get what he wants. “wait, brat—”
he scoffs before his hands wrap around megumi’s torso, lifting the little boy in the air as his final resort, “what’s this all ‘bout? wanna kill y’r daddy or sum?”
your son pouts and furrows his brows, “no, made papa food. burger,” he defends himself and kicks his legs while being held up at arms length.
megumi’s tiny fist full of sand manages to reach his father’s lips again, “now papa eat!”
toji lifts megumi up higher, as far away from his face as possible. he takes a second before realising that he indeed had made a request for a burger just moments ago, when his son asked him what he should make out of the sand.
toji totally forgot to play along with megumi’s pretend restaurant game, thinking the boy would halfway forget about it anyway. children’s attention spans are short after all.
seems like his kid is an exception.
“i ain’t eatin’ shit, boy,” toji grunts and turns megumi away, putting the boy back down in the sand between the two beach towels.
you’re about to reprimand your husband for his behaviour before your child interrupts.
“this not poo poo!” megumi jabs a chubby finger at his father’s chest, his voice a bit louder. he’s taken great offence to the comment about his imaginary burger, which is now just a cluster of sand particles.
toji snorts and gently flicks megumi’s hand away, “yeah, it is. bet it tastes like ‘poo poo’ too.”
“no! not poo poo!” megumi’s voice rings out before a frustrated whine leaves his lips.
his little hands land on toji’s abs, physically punishing him for saying mean things about his hard handiwork.
your husband sticks his tongue out childishly at his sulking son, “‘yes! yes ‘tis poo poo!’ keheh,” toji mocks megumi’s high voice, snorting as he laughs at his own joke.
the father-son duo bicker for a few more seconds before you sigh and speak up.
“can you two just get along for once now? we’re in public, so behave,” you scold them as their voices seemed to get louder. you then glare at your immature husband.
he can be such a man-child when it comes to arguing with his son, “and you—you’re an adult, so act like one.”
the two of them instantly shut up and their heads turn towards you, their hands that were wrestling with each other also stopping mid-air. megumi pouts and stops attacking his father with his tiny fists. the little boy knows better than not listen to his mother.
in turn, toji huffs and grumbles something under his breath before grabbing his son to make it up to him.
neither does he dare to defy his wife’s demands.
“yeah, yeah. c’mere, son,” toji responds and places the toddler on his chest, letting the kid rest against him.
megumi surprisingly doesn’t pull away and instead curls up in toji’s warm embrace. as much as the two love to (playfully) fight, they also get along extremely well.
you smile and relax back on the palms of your hands. “much better,” you hum in content.
your heart swells with affection for your two favorite people on earth. megumi is a carbon copy of his father and it’s the cutest little thing ever.
they both have that subtle pout on their lips as they accommodate to being close and cozy with each other again.
toji runs his callused fingers through megumi’s hair, sighing as he closes his eyes. he doesn’t admit it out loud, but he cares for his kid. if he had to make a choice between either saving his own life or megumi’s, toji’d draw his last breath without hesitation.
“he’s still a brat,” your husband grumbles to you, sharp eyes watching the way you coddle and coo over the toddler.
megumi’s chubby cheek is smushed against toji’s chest and it was an adorable sight. you giggle and capture it on your phone.
toji scoffs, but can’t help the grin tugging at the corner of his scarred lips. he gently rubs the child’s cheek with his knuckles before continuing, “but he’s my brat. ain’t that right, boy?”
megumi lets out a small, soft grunt at his father’s words. the kid is completely silent, content with the way things had played out. perhaps this is what he secretly searched for as well— to receive toji’s attention and a glimpse of his affection.
“aww, how cute!” your smile is beaming as you snap another picture of your family.
toji’s soft look is perfectly captured on your phone, with him gently touching megumi’s chubby cheek as the boy laid on his bare chest. pure domestic bliss.
you sigh and look away for one second to change the lockscreen on your phone. humming, you go to your settings and instantly put the picture of your husband and son as your wallpaper on nearly everything.
you tilt your head back only to find toji grinning from ear to ear now, going from gently rubbing megumi’s cheek to full out squishing them between both his hands, amused at the way the fat moves.
“kehehe, look at ‘em,” he chuckles.
the little toddler eventually gets fed up with it after squirming and grunting. megumi brings his little fist up—the same one that still had some sand stored from before—and lets the content fly all over toji’s face.
megumi giggles and scrambles off toji’s lap with a victorious grin. he points at his father who’s struggling with getting the sand off his face, the man sputtering and grumbling.
he sticks his tongue out, “tha’s papa’s burger.”
you watch as your son waddles over to you and hides into your arms, muffled laughter echoing in your ears. seems like megumi won the battle in the end; successfully holding onto the sand he was planning to feed his dad one way or another.
toji spits out a bit of sand that flew into his mouth from the kid’s surprise attack, “you little shit—”
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