⋮ ⌗ dad!jo and his futile attempt at pranking you with megumi 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ :: fluff, kissing, fem!reader, teasing, banter ! masterlist : ಄
“so pretty when you sleep..gonna be sad to ruin it.” satoru kissed your bare shoulder, pulling you in close so your back hit his chest while you slept peacefully—your face full of pure bliss. usually he would be kissing you awake, his lips all over your cheeks and neck, smothering them with repeated, exaggerated smooches until you were giggling to consciousness—but this particular morning he had another plan. one that involved a certain chubby handed baby…
“megumi.” he whispered, watching the three year old stumble getting onto the edge of the bed, stubby little fingers grabbing onto the blankets to yank himself up. the poor boy looked bored—a little irritated even, with his own father, but what did he expect? he was always a mama’s boy. it was a miracle he even “agreed” to this…
“what’s with the face.” satoru frowned, arms tightening around you as a precautionary measure—just in case you decided to wake up on your own. totally not because he felt a little defensive.
megumi grumbled beneath his breath in response, standing tall on top of the mattress. “mgh.”
“you—you mgh!” satoru mumbled, “this is why mama’s mine.”
“no she’s not!” megumi almost instantly jumped on top of gojo. surprisingly his tiny body packed a punch, causing your husband’s arms to fall from your waist to clutch his stomach. “of course you got my beautiful, strong genes…curse you..” satoru groaned, watching megumi as he crawled over on your back, hugging your neck like a clingy little spider.
“traitor.” satoru muttered beneath his breath, slowly turning back onto his side—sliding back into his previous position, his hands on your thighs.
“mmhg.” your son voiced, holding onto you even tighter in defiance—unfortunately the lack of oxygen reaching your airways due to his grip was enough to rouse you.
“…megs?”
“mm—mama!” he squeaked, immediately crawling off of you before falling back right into gojo’s chest.
“oof.”
“back to square one, huh?” satoru snided, but it was useless as megumi lay flat in defeat. maybe next time…
“toru, what are you doing?” you yawned, rising up to sit against the bed frame, arms crossing over your chest. “why isn’t megumi in his crib?”
“hmm..that is a great question…see now what i think happened is he snuck out! you know kids these days. haven’t ya seen those facebook reels of kids climbing out their cribs?” he lied straight out of his ass, smiling as he tried not to bounce his eyes back and forth between your face and your chest.
with a resigned sigh you simply shook your head in disappointment, picking up megumi and cradling him in your arms—the toddler cooing in response. “i thought you said you’d never lie to me, gojo. do vows mean nothing to you?” you teased, suppressing the smile that so desperately wanted to show itself.
“gojo!? w-wait, baby.” he laughed nervously, scooching closer to you as an attempt to gain some mercy. “we were just gonna wake up our beautiful mommy…” he pleaded, burying his face into the crook of your neck as a form of apology. “c’mon call me toru again..”
“bad dada.”
gojo’s head popped up, eyes glaring at his own ball of dna that laid comfortably in your arms.
it should’ve been him…
“i’ll show you bad dada—“ gojo leaned in close, but you pushed him away with your finger to his nose.
“oh no, he’s correct.” you spoke up, “bad daddy.”
satorus heart shriveled up and went “poof!” the second you scolded him, his body immediately deflating like a balloon. “you’re so cruel to me..” he whimpered, his cheeks pressing against your shoudler.
you let out a small chuckle, laughing along with megumi. it was a sight to see, making fun of the strongest as if he couldn’t shut you up immediately.
“c’mere, drama queen.”
he lifted his head up, instantly met with a warm and gentle kiss from you. he melted against your mouth, eyes fluttering shut while his hand conveniently found its way trailing up your torso—at least until megumi grabbed it. “yuck”
“cockblock.” satoru murmured against your mouth, for once ignoring his son’s comment to continue tasting you.
“liar.” you replied, nipping at his lower lip in reprimand.
“…touchè”
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