🌷

(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

I mean, I don't have to eat this piece of chocolate now, it will taste the same tomorrow and the day after tomorrow, in a month, a year or two.

Of course I can go and buy my "favorite" fast food at any time, it just doesn't make sense to me, since I already know what it tastes like, and now it would be much better to eat a homemade fresh meal than garbage full of butter and other harmful substances.

I really love my body and I want it to contain only clean food with a good nutrition that gives me energy, and not a sugar rush to the brain that makes me feel like shit.

satoru’s pushing himself up and down with one hand because, according to you, normal push-ups weren’t enough. but even then, he’s barely breaking a sweat. and he’s grinning, while you stand over him, watching with your arms crossed.

his uniform jacket is folded over the back of a chair, leaving him in his compression shirt, arm bulging and back tensing with each lift and fall of his body.

“i upset my-- hah beautiful, smart-- hah strong, gorgeous, perfect wife,” he pants, “punishment fits the crime.”

he really is right where he wants to be.

megumi doesn’t even bat an eye - this was the least unusual thing that you and satoru do. he slides into a chair with a sigh.

“how many does he have to do?”

“a hundred,” you say. satoru lifts his head to look up at you, mouth parted, little pink hearts in his eyes peering at you over the rim of his glasses. “he’s on seventy-two.”

his grin widens. “you know, this isn’t a challenge for me. why don’t you sit on my back, sweetheart?”

you crouch down in front of him and his eyes light up. “i know what you want, and you don’t deserve my touch.” you push his head down so he’s facing the floor again, and he grunts when you press extra weight, forcing his body down. “only twenty-three left. you can do it, my love.”

if his heart wasn’t beating fast enough before, it definitely was now. especially with the saccharine tone you used at the end of your sentence.

god, was he down bad.

“… call us when you’re done,” megumi says, already out of the classroom.

It's one of my favorites.

It's about Megumi and Satoru.

Since Satoru basically raised Megs, there have been moments where Megumi accidentally called him dad.

imagine you become Satoru's girlfriend after a year of he adopted Megumi and his sister.

You help with raising them, since sometimes Satoru's parenting techniques were... bad at times

"No, Satoru, you can't let them eat an entire tub of ice cream and call it 'dinner' "

"Satoru...If Megumi gets in fights, do not go, 'Well, did you win?' "

Okay, back on track.

You guys are chilling in the kitchen, doing stuff. Megumi's been working on something and honestly needs rest.

Satoru says

"Hey, Megumi, try taking a break."

You add in, saying

"Yeah, i agree.."

Megumi didn't look up, only replying with

"Please don't distract me, dad, mom."

Megumi went red when he realized what he said, and Satoru still hasn't stopped teasing him.

He cried the first time he held her. Not in front of anyone else — he was joking and cocky and obnoxious at the hospital, trying to hide all the worries. But when it was just the three of you and she curled her tiny fingers around his pinky, he broke. Quietly. Tears were streaming down his cheeks as he cradled her and smiled happily. He had the whole world in his arms, given to him by his loved one.

She’s the only one (except her mom, of course) who can boss him around. “Daddy, sit.” And he does. “Daddy, today I choose what you’re gonna wear!” And these are the most mismatched pieces of his wardrobe, an absurd combination. But he puts these on and goes to meet with the higher-ups. “Daddy, put me on your shoulders!” And the world becomes even more interesting for her from the perspective of his height.

He’s obsessed with her laugh. He’ll spend hours doing the dumbest things just to hear it — ridiculous dances, jokes, and parodies. That sound is his favorite in the world. It means she’s safe. She’s happy. She’s so real, his little sweet baby. He hopes that this will be one of the things she’ll remember best from her childhood. That laughing is always allowed, even for adults.

She’s just as sharp as him — and it terrifies him. One time, she tricked him into giving her dessert before dinner. A four-year-old. He was both horrified and deeply, deeply honored. “She’s definitely my kid,” he said, wiping away a proud tear. But of course, he often falls for her tricks just because he likes to spoil her.

He teaches her how to stand up for herself. From day one, he tells her: “You don’t have to shrink for anyone. You don’t owe the world softness unless you choose to give it.” And she listens. She learns. It’s like a protective mantra that he whispers to her as she falls asleep, hoping that these words will stay with her and she will realize its meaning later.

He has zero resistance to her tears. If she starts crying, his whole world stops. No jokes. Just soft panic and immediate scooping up. “Who do I have to fight?” he whispers. “What made my baby cry?” His heart is aching, and he’s ready to do anything to make her feel better. It’s hard for him to say “no” if it’s tears of demand, so she’s already spoiled by him from a very young age.

He sees her mother in her constantly. Sometimes he quietly watches her, observes her gestures and behavior, and sees you in her. Mom’s features are intertwined with dad’s, and it strikes him to the core — this is a little person made of both of you. You soulmated so hard that you created another heart, a cute little friend for both of you. She’s everything.

Oh, but she definitely has his temper too. She once looked up at him mid-lecture and said, “Is this gonna be long? I have blocks to build.” He nearly exploded with laughter. “Siblings? What are the pros and cons of that?” she wonders seriously when you ask if she wants a brother or a sister. “If they’re as cool as me... hmm, I’ll think about it!” she sticks out her tongue and giggles. His little smartass.

He keeps her drawings in his wallet. Folded, worn, cherished. Even when he’s across the world on duty, her crayon versions of the three of you remind him why he fights. When he comes back from work, they draw together, and his own drawings are no better than a child’s spontaneous doodle, but she praises him so sincerely that he melts.

They have wild inside jokes no one understands. Even you, her mother. It drives you crazy sometimes because they act like real idiots. But they’re your favorite idiots. Like synchronized “dramatic faints” at the breakfast table. Or gossiping about you quietly with a sly smile on their faces. Or their secret handshake that takes 40 seconds (you counted). Sometimes they just treat life like a game they’re winning together.

She shares his love for sweets. He buys her all kinds of goodies and treats her with the best desserts in the city, on weekends he pampers her with custom-made sweets from a pastry shop. So when it’s time to visit the dentist, you send him with her to the doctor as a lesson. He taught her to brush her teeth well. It’s nobody’s fault she has a sweet tooth like him!

He loves to put her to bed. He reads her fairy tales and tells her funny stories, assures her that there are no monsters under the bed and checks it several times if she’s scared. “Your daddy is the strongest monster fighter!” he winks. And when she falls asleep, he kisses her on the forehead and just lies next to her for a while before going to his beloved wife to make another such cutie pie.

He talks to her like an equal — always. He doesn’t baby her thoughts or shield her from the truth. He explains the world gently but with honesty. She asks hard questions. He never lies. It’s not easy when she realizes what a complicated world she lives in. Every time something inside him breaks when she gets a little more mature. But he knows that this is part of the journey too.

He’s incredibly protective, but in stealthy ways. He won’t be the loudest dad at school (surprisingly). Instead, he’ll silently ward off anyone who makes her uncomfortable — a quiet glare, a sudden presence. Nothing gets past him. He doesn’t want to get into things that she has to experience on her own, but he also doesn’t want to be on the sidelines if something hurts her.

He’s terrified of failing her. Beneath the jokes and playfulness, he carries a deep fear — that the world will hurt her the way it hurt him. So he watches closely, listens deeply, holds tighter when she sleeps. He knows that there will definitely be challenges and pain in life, but while she is so young, he will protect her and her childhood with all his best. She will have a different, better life.

He tells her every day: “You’re loved. Always.” Not just “I love you” — but “you are loved”. By him. By her mom. By the universe itself. He wants her to know it, feel it, believe it in her bones. Despite all the hardships, there is so much beauty in the world, and it’s a true miracle that we are all here, so fragile and eager for love and validation. He deeply realizes it when he becomes a father. And he wants her to feel it too.

TW: pregnancy, secret pregnancy

“Oh,” was all you could say, breathless at the little figure—; black and white and barely visible on the screen in front of you. It just barely resembled a human, with a too-big head and little nubs on the side that you could hardly even call arms. It was so stupid, so ridiculously not-real looking, but when the tech moved her wand just right, goddammit, it almost looked like it was moving and if it was moving then it was alive and if it was alive— 

“Is it real?” You asked dumbly. “Is… is this real?” 

She didn’t laugh at you, surprisingly. She merely smiled and said softly, “Yes, it is. It’s real.”

You tilted your head at the screen, trying to contain your increasing heart rate. “Is it… is it moving?” 

This time, she laughed. “It sure is. At this gestation, they’re able to float, bounce, and even swim around a little. You might feel intense twitches every now and then deep in your belly where the fetus is hanging out— that’s totally normal, and just it moving around inside its little sac,” she explained nonchalantly, as if she didn’t just confirm to you that not only were you pregnant, but you were pregnant with a real, tangible, moving *thing* inside of your body that was put there by—

“Would you like extra copies for Dad? Grandparents, maybe?”

“Yes,” you said, without thinking. You had no intention of sharing this with Gojo. You had no parents to share it with. But a part of your mind, something so deep and instinctive, wanted every moment of this little creature’s existence captured— on film, on paper, on everything. 

Before this day, you’d never once considered having children. Until you knew that those little twitches deep in your stomach had arms, legs, and a heartbeat. 

Maybe it was the fact that you lacked a purpose. Since the death of Suguru, your role has caused nothing but unrest amongst your colleagues. Unlike Satoru, you weren’t a teacher. You didn’t take the kids on missions. You fought well, but it felt like a performance these days— when was the last time you truly used your combat skills? You knew the fight was never really over, but… maybe this was the beginning of something. 

Something new. Something different.

Your hands went to cup your tummy, the being inside non-palpable, of course. This was… incredible. In all of your life as a sorceress, nothing felt quite as magical as the little thing growing inside of you. 

You tried not to think about its potential to throw the entire jujutsu community into chaos. 

Gojo Satoru. It always came back to Gojo.

⨯ pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader ⨯ themes: fluff, suggestive, smut, rom-com, slice of life, domestic, pregnancy sex (satoru is a pregnancy perv), first time parents, girl and boy dad satoru, pregnancy symptoms, giving birth, postpartum, breastfeeding, diaper changes, anxiety, patience, toddlers, teenagers, awkward and angsty phases, innuendos in front of the kids, late-in-life and (happy) accidental babies, breeding. ⨯ important: works will not be completed in any particular order but are organized in a timeline. different variations of a headcanon may exist. more tags will be added as i go. smut is labelled using the “⊹” symbol. minors do not interact. art by @/momoya348 on twt/X.

the papatoru diaries is a heartwarming series about family. each work is an entry recorded in a diary, consisting of little to big moments and fragments in time that follow gojo satoru and you, his wife, through the chaos that is pregnancy and parenthood. each stage of life brings new challenges and joys. as your boys and girls grow and begin to navigate the world, you and your husband face the changes together.

∗ pre-natal / pregnancy

made in your image

home smells like... ⊹

temptations

∗ baby / toddler

resemblance

∗ pre-school / grade school

seed

the drawing

∗ teens

late night cravings

you and your husband satoru are no strangers to midnight cravings — for food or for each other. but tonight, this craving is different. and you have a feeling it won’t be as easy to shake. | wc: 1.8k+

f!reader, established relationship (married for 10+ years), you and satoru are in your 30’s-40’s and have three kiddos (all near their teens — one girl and twin boys), midnight cravings, mentions of baby food (satoru likes to eat it lol), talks of having more kids, uncertainty for the future, fluff, suggestive. | divider by @/cursed-carmine <3

the cravings always start the same.

it’s sometime past midnight, the only time throughout the day where the house is quiet — except for the sound of appliances, the whir of the ceiling fan above, and the soft snoring of your children behind closed doors (if they weren’t up playing video games again without your knowledge).

the bed you lay in is warm — like home. as are the arms that hold you so gently despite the strength they possess. you’re spooned up with satoru, your dear husband whose hard chest is pressed up firmly against your back like he’s magnetized to you. his thumb absently rubs circles over your side, warm puffs of his breath blowing against your skin.

you’re already half awake, hovering in that weird place between falling asleep and maintaining consciousness. then, you feel satoru shift a bit before he murmurs playfully in your ear, soft lips brushing the sensitive area of your lobe.

“are you feeling... snackable?”

you snort into the broken silence before you can stop yourself.

“you ask that same question every night.”

“and yet, you always answer — and usually with a yes.” satoru fakes a pout against your neck, the sound of his voice vibrating against your supple flesh. “i just think it’s funny how you act all innocent, but you’re just as much of a late night snacker as i am.”

“you’re the only one who raids the fridge like a raccoon,” you murmur into the pillow under your head, voice raw and coated in a mixture of amusement and sleep.

satoru feigns offense. “lies and slander! you’re just as bad as me. don’t act like you weren’t the one who ate half of the leftover garlic bread at 2 a.m. last week.”

“and you at the other half of that. plus, that was one time—”

“and the cheesecake the week before?”

“…okay, so maybe we are both gluttons.” you sigh in defeat.

“thank you”, he says, smug as he hugs you tighter. “equal amounts of sinning.”

you roll your eyes, though your lips twitch as you fight a smile. “still. you’re worse—”

“you know, you keep saying that, but somehow you’re the only one who can take me so well. guess we’re just meant to be.” satoru floats over your words, complete with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows. and even if you can’t see it in the dark — you know it’s there.

you groan and give his arm a light swat behind you. “don’t ruin the moment.” and he chuckles, soft and pleased with himself — as always.

“too late,” satoru grins back boyishly like the absolute menace he is. even at this hour, your husband never quite looses his cheek.

a wave of comfortable quiet washes over you both momentarily. your breaths sync, loud in the way they do so upon instinct — as if the two of you are one even now.

you thought that would be the end of that. but then—

“you know what i’m craving right now?”, he suddenly asks, voice muffled slightly against your shoulder as he nuzzles into it.

you hum sleepily, eyes fluttering closed once more. “other than me?”

“i always crave you. but no. guess.”

you tilt your head back slightly, eyes opening, curious. “what?”

“those little plastic cups of baby food. the peach apricot flavor. the ones we used to get for the kids when they were babies. remember?”

Satoru who is the kinda baby daddy that would drop everything and everybody to be around his woman.

Satoru who is more than happy to go to the gas station at 2 am to get Cheetos and cherry yogurt for his wife’s pregnancy cravings.

Satoru who is foaming at the mouth to fuck his pregnant wife, especially after the doctor recommended it.

Satoru who is now exhausted, cock sore and shooting blanks after his pregnant wife used him all day.

Satoru who cries when his wife cries, and then cries again when she tells him to stop crying.

Satoru who always has a hand on his wife’s stomach, whispering to the baby and starts yapping about stupid conspiracy’s.

Satoru who, while your giving birth is micro managing the doctor and following around the nurses to make sure they do everything right.

Satoru who, when the baby is born, immediately tries to mark it with a sharpy so it doesn’t get mixed up with another baby, even though the baby is the only one with white hair, and is also the BIGGEST baby in the fucking hospital.

Satoru who REFUSES to let his wife or his baby out of his sight for the next month at the minimum.

Satoru who sent a letter back to the elders. The envelope was empty and the only thing inside was a cut out middle finger.

Satoru who, even after his wife has given birth, is making sure everything is perfect and taken care of, and refuses to let her lift a finger.

Satoru who cries with the baby, and manages to piss the baby off enough that baby glares at him.

Satoru who gets jealous of said baby when his wife is breast feeding.

Satoru who gets INSANELY possessive and ups security, refuses to let ANYONE except you or him hold the baby, and won’t let anyone in the house.

Satoru who loves his baby and his wife. And plans on fucking at least five more babies into you once your baby becomes a toddler.

Synopsis : Yuji is surprised to see Gojo without his blindfold nor his sunglasses. The answer as to why he doesn’t wear them is…surprising. 

First JJK fic woohoo. Haha. No worries peeps who follow for Batfam stuffs (so, most of y’all), next story will be a Batfam one ;). But today, wanted to write something a little different. Something short, too. Like, just having pure fun out of writing. Hope you’ll like it though : 

Please, do not repost my stories anywhere else, under any other form, do not translate and then repost them either. Thank you. 

My masterlists : @ella-ravenwood-archives

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This was…Not something Gojo ever planned. 

His ultimate goal has always been to reform the jujutsu sorcerers, that’s why he became a teacher. He thought this was the only thing he wanted to do in life, after everything he’d been through. 

His work, both as a teacher and as a jujutsu sorcerer, were his only prospect, his only future. He never envisioned doing anything else, settling down, or simply being happy. 

And yet…

Yet he met you.

At first you hated him. 

You thought he was arrogant (and he definitely is), sometimes downright mean with those he deemed “weak” (truth), and he was so damn loud and weird ! You even found him cruel in certain moments, he could truly be such a cold hearted bastard. 

It took you a long time, to realize you were wrong about him. To know that he actually was a complex man, and everything wasn’t black or white. 

He did misjudged you too, thought you were someone weak as you always hid your powers so your ennemies could underestimate you. And even worst : he thought you were someone who was on principal Gakuganji’s side. 

And oh you were not. You also became a teacher to train those kids to fight against cursed spirits. Learn how to fight, to save them, in a way. You were most definitely against killing one of those kids, even if he was Sukuna Ryomen’s host. 

Yuji quickly grew on you too, that boy had such a kind heart. 

Yes. Things between you and Gojo started in a really bad way. Yet, here you were, years after your first meeting, in love, and with a three months old baby !

A little son. To whom you’ll one day tell the story of how you and Gojo met, and fell in love. But for now, for now this was no such story. No. 

This is the story of how soft the mighty Gojo Satoru actually is…

Especially with his baby son. 

Awww another cute request ❤

Oh how you were really reluctant to leave Gojo with your daughter, Hitomi. You thought of maybe taking her to a day care center but your husband insisted that he wanted to watch over her.

Daddy Gojo just wants bond with his adorable daughter.

After throughly explaining to him the things he must know about, and telling him to call you if anything happens. "Mommy's gotta go to work on so be a good girl to Daddy okay?" Your daughter giggles as she grabs onto your finger. Giving Gojo one last stern warning you leave her in Gojo's care.

Gojo was extremely excited that he'll get to spend the whole day with his daughter and he really wants the entire school to meet her.

Classes that were meant to be for teaching turned into a gushing session. Itadori literally reels back in surprise when he sees the baby. "Gojo sensei you have a daughter?!" "Of course I do, isn't she the cutest～?"

Nobara just keeps asking to hold her and gush about how adorable your daughter is. "Oh, she's definitely gonna grow up to be a beauty!"

Fushiguro wasn't fazed in the slightest he had met her before a couple months ago when visiting you and Gojo. He cracks a small smile as Hitomi tries to reach for him. Even though Gojo was terrible in raising him he trusts that his sensei will take care of his daughter well.

The second years are just as excited to meet Hitomi. Panda being the most excited, your daughter practically wails because she wants to be held by Panda. She giggles and laughs when he plays with her.

He doesn't visit Shoko though because Shoko already met Hitomi during her birth. "Aunty Shoko stinks so let's visit her another day okay?"

Even though he's in a meeting with the elders he pays no attention to the words they were saying. Your daughter could feel the tense atmosphere and begins crying but the elders keep their mouth shut as Gojo tries to make her stop crying. They do not want to be on the receiving end of Gojo's wrath.

If he's suddenly called for a mission he leaves his daughter in the care of Principal Yaga. Hitomi absolutely loves his dolls even though they're cursed.

Gojo will do his best to finish up quickly so he can be with his daughter again.

You return to the school only to see your daughter being flocked by the students which brings a smile to your face.