#daddy gojo

Our pretty boy and his new favorite thing.

It was no surprise to absolutely anyone that Gojo Satoru flaunted anything he could. Not just to show off, but also simply because he could and nobody could stop him.

Money? He had too much of it. So through loud and quiet luxury he flexed: cars, overpriced dress up shirts people couldn't tell apart from a supermarket ones from a mile away, and in many different ways.

Strength? They didn't call him the strongest for nothing. From the moment he won the genetic lottery by inheriting two broken cursed techniques, he was already bound to be the strongest.

Speaking of genetic lottery, his looks? Oh please, that's the first thing you notice about the man even with half of his overly handsome face covered.

However, as of late, Satoru has found his new favourite thing to brag about. His very pregnant and glowing wife.

You didn't plan to get pregnant at all but-- one day, you woke up and waltzed into the kitchen, as usual, looking for your morning fix of coffee. Your shirtless husband was sitting at the counter, piece of half burnt toast hanging from his lips as he scrolled on his phone.

A normal morning it was. That was until he turned around, eyebrows furrowed after feeling your cursed energy off. You were in the middle of yawning, pajama shirt lifting just slightly and exposing your stomach.

Satoru's toast hit the ground with a depressing sound. You raised an eyebrow. "Babe?" Still with your arms over your head.

His hand flew at lightning speed to his blindfold, revealing his wide open eyes under them glued to your stomach. You looked down to where he was looking and noticed the bit of weight you had gained.

You hadn't felt bad about it until now, really conscious under his intense and quiet gaze. By instinct, your hands wrapped around your stomach, hiding it from him.

He choked on his own spit right then and there. "N-NO!" his yell startled you and he immediately apologized, stumbling over his own words.

"Nononono baby, no- you-." - "Spit it out Satoru!" With his six eyes glowing like a lamp post, he happily shouted. "You're pregnant!" - "WHAT!?"

Anyway, that was about three months ago. Now you were currently 4 months pregnant and apparently carrying a baby boy. Up until your second trimester, you hadn't been showing much from when you initially had found out about your pregnancy.

Many visits to your OBGYN were necessary to calm you down from the worries that your baby wasn't growing. But, coincidentally, the week that Satoru had been dispatched to an overseas mission urgently for a week, your belly grew twice it's size.

And when your excited husband walked through the door, so ready to reunite with the loves of his life, but instead was greeted with a very pregnant and glowing wife- the sight he had been secretly dreaming of seeing since he had found out about your pregnancy. He exploded with joy.

Then he became overly clingy. Talking like a maniac, a cute one, but still a maniac to your stomach for hours on end. Giving you routinely massages all over your body (focusing on your legs and stomach because he likes those parts specifically). And showering you with oceans of compliments anytime he caught sight of you.

However, ever since he had finally gotten you a full closet of maternity clothes which in result allowed you to finally leave the house, he has made it everyone's business that you were carrying his baby.

At a bakery, too early in the morning he ordered for you:

"A chocolate chip cookie and a blueberry muffin for my gorgeous pregnant wifey."

The lady behind the counter cringed and you flushed by him, embarrassed. But he was blissfully unaware and too happy so you kept quiet.

Nanami was a frequent victim of Satoru's nonsense.

"Nanamin, serious topic. What sport should I get my son into?" - "I don't care, Gojo." "You should have a daughter so our kids can date!" - "No."

You were trying on a maternity dress at the mall when he barged into the changing room. "Satoru! Privacy!" He ignored you and just gawked at your figure through the reflection of the mirror, then whispered.

"Can I put another baby in you?" As if you weren't pregnant already.

Even though you were expecting, and noticeably so, men didn't stop looking your way. And that pissed your husband off more than anything. He always had to mentally count to a hundred before barking or pouncing on the men who stare too much at you when you were outside.

Shoko never heard the end of it either.

- "No Satoru, she doesn't hate you, she's just carrying your annoyingly heavy baby. I'm surprised she can even get up in the morning with how much of her energy that damn fetus takes from you." And he whined again.

your twins shamelessly rolled their eyes when they saw their dad walk into class, again.

it was career day at school and they prayed really hard to see you walk into the class instead of him for the third consecutive year.

“oh my goood,” your daughter groaned and her brother whispered to her.

“don’t look at him,” while hiding his face.

the teacher welcomed him with a huge smile on her face, a smile you probably won’t like if you saw it. their classmates wondering who is that weird white haired guy who just walked in.

he switched his usual blindfold for his sunglasses, hoping it would make him look less scary to the kids.

“hi kids, i’m satoru gojo and i’m the father of my two babies right here,” he teleported right behind the two of them, “sora and ren.”

he playfully ruffled their hair ignoring the dead look they were giving him.

your husband is quite . . . extra when it comes to showing off to the other parents or kids. he’ll always shout on rooftops about how much better his offspring are.

one kid raised his hand, he oddly looked like yuji but . . . cuter, “mr. satoru? what is your job?”

here we go.

your husband made his way back to the blackboard. of course gojo loves to talk about your children, but he loves to talk about himself more, that’s why he’s here. (also because you knocked off after “playing” with him a little too much . . .)

“my job? mmh— i’m the strongest sorcerer in the world.” he said proudly with a huge smile on his face.

a beat of silence.

then the kids bursted out laughing, “ like harry potter?”

gojo titled his head pretending to think, “stronger.”

your son physically slumped in his chair just hoping that this day will pass quickly.

the teacher placed her hand on your husband's shoulder laughing, who quickly removed it. he knew you could feel it when other women flirted with him and you probably woke up from your nap because of this touch.

“mr. satoru, maybe you should explain to the kids what your job really is.”

gojo seemed to think, for once, and grinned as he pushed his sunglasses up, revealing his bright blue eyes who seemed to have caught the children's attention.

“let’s say i protect people like you, from things they can’t see.”

the class erupted in “oohs” and “wows”, little hands shooting up everywhere like a garden of questions.

the day is about to be really really long . . .

need him raw.

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.

𝟷𝟾+ 🪧 must be of age to read !! ࿐ ⊹ ׂ  dilf ❜ gojo has a fixation, and it’s your boobs.

it’s gotten ten times worse since you gave birth to your daughter. even when he’s out being the “strongest,” his mind is right here at home, thinking about how full and tender they are, how gorgeous they look.

so when he finally gets home and finds you on the couch, having just put the baby down for the night, it’s a foregone conclusion. you’re trying to concentrate on your favorite show, but he immediately descends on you, a six-foot-plus heat-seeking missile of pure need.

he nudges the thin fabric of your shirt up, freeing one breast for his mouth. his lips close over the peak, and he tugs gently on your nipple with his teeth, a teasing, firm pull that makes you gasp. his other hand finds your other breast, still covered, and he squeezes gently through the material. between the pull of his mouth and the pressure of his hand, a small, dark circle of dampness begins to bloom on the fabric of your shirt as a few drops of milk seep out. the cool air hits the wet spot, making your skin prickle. you try to focus on the tv, but it’s impossible when he’s like this, insistent and relentless.

“s’yummy ‘n sweet, mama,” he murmurs against your skin, a grin you can feel more than see. “best dessert i’ve had after a long day.”

it starts when your daughter was 9 months old, she lays on her back, plays with her daddy. "if you're happy, and you know it, say 'dada'" satoru's voice fills the wide living room.

when she inhale, the world feels silent. "dada" that word come out under her breath.

the big, strongest daddy, satoru is crying. he leans down to give his princess kisses on across her face. "omg, i can't belive it, her first word is dada."

"you're such a smart girl, i know it since you're my daughter." she giggles, showing her little teeth.

since that day, your daughter calls her dada for everything.

"who do you want to change your diaper?" you ask your daughter, she answers it right away "dada" while nibbling on her toy.

"satoru, babe, your daughter needs your help."

satoru emerges from the kitchen, his mouth fulls of cookies. "help what?"

Summary: Gojo panics when his little girl gets asked to dance by a boy. "You're too young for this!"

{Years later, at a school event where Gojo learns his biggest challenge isn't curses—it's letting go.}

Series Masterlist ✧

The gym was decorated in soft fairy lights, the music gentle, the kids excitedly running around in their little dress shoes and fancy outfits. You stood near the punch table, chatting with one of the other parents, while Gojo Satoru hovered in the corner, arms crossed, watching the dance floor like a hawk.

Specifically, watching his daughter.

Satomi—now seven years old and looking way too grown up in her light blue dress and sparkly hair clips—was spinning in circles with her twin brother, Satoshi. Her giggles were louder than the music, her silver hair bouncing as she twirled like a ballerina.

Gojo had taken one (1) photo and then immediately gone into full-blown overprotective dad mode.

"She's having fun." you said gently, nudging his side.

"She's being watched," he muttered, narrowing his eyes at a little boy walking toward her. "By him."

You looked and smiled. "That's Daichi, Toru. They sit next to each other in class."

"Exactly. Too close. Too much proximity."

"Don't start."

But Gojo had already stepped forward a little, squinting like Daichi had personally insulted his bloodline.

You placed a hand on his arm. "Toru, he's seven."

"She's my daughter!"

Meanwhile, on the dance floor, little Daichi had just asked Satomi if she wanted to dance. Her eyes lit up with delight as she nodded, handing her juice box to Satoshi before walking off with Daichi to the center of the floor.

Gojo gasped. "No. Nope. Unacceptable."

You barely managed to hold him back as he took a step forward. "Don't embarrass her."

"She's a literal baby!" he whisper-yelled. "She was just born yesterday!"

"She's seven."

"She still sleeps with that stuffed bear I gave her! She can't be out here slow dancing like some—some—"

"Relax. It's a school dance. They're just doing the Macarena."

Gojo watched, pouting like the sky had fallen. "She didn't even ask me to dance first…"

You softened, brushing his arm. "Then ask her now. You'll always be her first dance, you know."

He hesitated. Then sighed. "…Fine. But if that boy even thinks about holding her hand, I'm teleporting him to Siberia."

You rolled your eyes, laughing.

Later that evening, after Satomi had danced with her classmates, Gojo approached her, kneeling slightly and offering his hand.

"Can I steal a dance, princess?" he asked, smiling—his usual cocky grin replaced by something gentler, warmer.

Satomi lit up, hugging him first before taking his hand. "You're late, Papa!"

"I had to make sure no evil boys were lurking." he said dramatically, spinning her around. "But you look just like your mama tonight, so I forgive you."

Satoshi watched from the side, sipping juice and murmuring, "Papa's crying."

"I am not!" Gojo sniffled mid-spin.

You just smiled, snapping a photo of your husband and daughter dancing under fairy lights, her little feet on top of his shoes, his hand securely holding hers.

The strongest sorcerer in the world was helpless.

And the only curse he couldn’t dispel...

Was watching his little twins grow up.

"𝑼𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒔."

—𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✧

᭡୧ c/w: NSFW // very light degradation // slight edging // light overestimating // slight cunnilingus // neglect // pet names // tears // condescending Satoru // Satoru x reader.

➽────────❥ Word count: 600—ish

Satoru was the kind who couldn’t shut up to save his life. You loved him to death, true, but damn did he never have an off switch of that big mouth.

It doesn’t matter where or what you two are doing, you can bet that he’ll be right there bumping his gums whenever he gets the chance. Sometimes you do tell him to shut up, like he'll listen, but other times you just let him ramble.

You don’t know if maybe he just likes his own voice, has a battery in his back that never dies, or is just annoying as fuck—actually, there's a likely chance its all three.

He doesn’t think that him talking 24/7 is an issue, nor does he even think of stopping this habit, which is why he does it in sweet, sweet bed as well.

“‘Toru, quit it..” You grumble, sliding your trembling fingers through his white locks sticking to his forehead. Looking down at him before being rudely shushed by the tall ass man between your legs.

“Shhh, baby, me and my favorite girl are talking,” He feigns a frown as he looks up at you, his eyes playfully narrowed before he looks back down at where you’re eagerly drenched.

“Now, back to our conversation before we were rudely interrupted.. You been missin’ me, sweet girl? Yeahhh, I know, ma..” He cooed, gently parting your puffy pussylips with his fingers, his actions earning a small whimper and squirm from you. Despite his soothing touches, it does nothing to get you there. Which makes your vision blur with hot tears.

“Fuck, look at that.. ‘Toru’s been neglecting you, hm? Yeah, how mean of me..” You couldn’t help but take in how his dimwit self smirked at his own conversation with your pussy, his face slowly leaning in to lick a long stripe from bottom to top on your soaked slit, to then press a kiss to your swollen nub before nuzzling his face closer and inhaling your natural scent.

“Don’ worry, mean ol’ Toru is gonna make you feel good—“

“Satoru, don’t piss me off.” You cut him off, folding your arms over your sweaty and heaving chest. He couldn’t believeee that you had the audacity to interrupt his conversation with his favorite girl AGAIN! TWICE IN A ROW!

He quickly looked up at you and swatted your mound— too rough than intended, but who’s complaining? Assuredly not you. You immediately yelped, your eyes widening as you whined out a soft ‘ow!’

“What did I say about interrupting us?” He coldly asked, his eerily serious tone causing you to blink and slightly go mindless.

“I-I’m sorry,” You shakily start, falling quiet. “Finish your conversation..”

“Good, that’s exactly what I wanted!” He cheerfully joyed out, completely reversing his mood as he looked down where you’re needy at, his intense gaze making you clench around nothing.

“Awww, you needy for attention? Got ya so wet f’me, baby.. Can’t believe you get like this jus’ for me..” He muttered, of course both to you and his favorite girl.

"Mhh—Yes.." Your eyelids fall shut, the pressure making some wet tears slide out of the corner of your eyes. Your flushed thighs shake against his cheeks from the pure need to be touched, worshipped even. Satoru notices immediately the droplets streaming down your temples and dampening the fluffy pillow beneath your head. Bringing his hand up to wipe the proof of overwhelming need on your face.

"My my, crying a river here are we? I'm s'orry baby, did I make you wait to long?" His condescending tone brings another wave of tears tucked neatly under your eyelids. You manage a squeak like a mouse and a tremble nod back. "Open ya legs wider for m'e, hm? I'll make ya feel good promise!.." Which you follow his suggestion and let him do as he pleases, but as soon as he got his fat tongue on your cunt? Latching his lips around your aching clit? Holy, you saw stars.

᭡୧ A/N: Credits go to my friend Rennie who came up with this idea when I told her I didn't know what to post, you a lifesaver boo 🥹

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.