Tags: JJK men x fem!Reader, college au, sports au, mostly fluff and/or crack, suggestive only on Toji’s (nasty bitch), itafushi makes an appearance
An: This has been heavy on my brain recently 🙂↕️ Also, I don’t know if this concept is only in like my area, but basically, the concept is that on game days, a common thing for highschool/college players to do is to wear their jersey to class, and their sweetheart wears their home/away jersey. it’s just a cute thing to show support. Another thing, I know Kamo is not Choso’s last name, and I know Sukuna is not Sukuna’s last name. Sukuna might not even be Sukuna’s name at all. idk and idc. this is a no curse au anyways so who cares! let me know if i should do more sports au :)
Incl - Satoru, Suguru, Nanami, Choso, Toji, Sukuna
SATORU
Girls will literally hunt Satoru down to get his jersey from him, and if you were the lucky girl who got to wear the jersey of the star quarterback… you either became instantly popular, or every girl in the university wanted to kill you.
“I’m sorry, ladies. I already have someone in mind.” Satoru flashed a grin towards the crowd of girls surrounding his seat. Disappointed sighs and whines emitted from the group as they slowly dissipated from his desk.
Satoru couldn’t care less. They could be mad at him if they wanted to. They were no where near as special as the girl he had his eyes set on.
Class had yet to start, and Satoru was growing tired of just staring at the back of your head. He finally got up, and he slumped down in the chair next to you.
“Is this seat taken?” He asked with a bright smile. He hadn’t interacted with you much, but he always had his eye on you. You were the one of the few girls who didn’t dumb down their intelligence for him to make themselves more appealing.
“It’s not.” You replied shortly. You weren’t rude, just incredibly matter-of-fact.
“Wanna make a bet with me?” Satoru asked as he tried to catch your eyes from your book. He was really pining for your attention, and you wouldn’t pass him a second glance.
“Not really.” You replied, not looking up from your book.
“I bet the professor will be twenty minutes late.” Satoru went on anyways, not taking your rejection to heart.
“Hmm. Doubtful. He’s normally prompt.” You say finally looking up at Satoru, which causes him to flash an easy smile. He’s happy to have your attention — now he wants to keep it.
“If he isn’t here within the next twenty minutes, you have to wear my jersey today and every game day for the rest of the season. If he makes it here before twenty minutes is up, I’ll buy you as many books as you can carry.” Satoru proposes as he taps on your book with a cheeky grin.
You think for a moment… all the books you can carry?? “Deal.” You say with a smile, offering your hand to him to shake on it — thinking you just easily won yourself a free shopping spree. Satoru takes your hand, and he gently shakes it before bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.
He’s already won.
Satoru knows that you’ll be wearing his jersey today, and you’ll wear his colors for the rest of the season. He’ll make more bets… win you over slowly with false bets. Oh, he’ll buy you all those books you want too just because he can.
He’s already set Geto in motion to go run into your professor with large cups of coffees in his hand. Your professor ended up cancelling class after being 25 minutes late.
When the group of girls sees you with “GOJO” written on the back of your jersey, their faces contort in utter disdain, but Satoru looks at it with a shit-eating grin on his face. He won.
SUGURU
Suguru really didn’t get the thing about giving a girl his jersey on game days. Basketball season is pretty ruthless. While football teams only have 12 games in a season, basketball teams play over 30. That’s 30 days in one season that he’d have to find a girl that he gave enough of a shit about to give his jersey to? No thanks.
Of course, if he had a girlfriend it wouldn’t be too big of a deal, but the whole attitude around giving a girl your jersey was just something Suguru didn’t subscribe to.
Well, he didn’t think he subscribed to it until he saw one of his teammates offering you their jersey.
Maybe on a more psychological level, this was territory marking, and Suguru would be damned if he sat back and let another man mark you as their territory.
Even though he’s not proud of it, Suguru immediately marched straight up to you and his teammate with his away jersey thrown over his shoulder. He placed his hand firmly on the small of your back, and he gave his teammate a piercing look with his violet eyes. His lips curled into an easy smirk.
“Sorry man, she’s already agreed to wear my jersey today, isn’t that right angel?” He asked in such a condescending tone, and his fingertips dig into your skin with just enough pressure to make your face flush.
Luckily for Suguru, you were into it — and not his teammate. “Yeah, sorry. I almost forgot.” You agree, giving his teammate an empathetic smile.
So no, Suguru doesn’t get the idea of giving his jersey to a girl on game days, but he does get the idea of giving you his jersey. He loves how he towers behind you in the halls, seeing the name “GETO” written on your back with his number. He loves remembering the way you easily went along with his plan. You just fit him.
NANAMI
Nanami doesn’t need antics to get you to wear his baseball jersey.
Plenty of girls pine for Kento. Who wouldn’t? He was the leading star of the baseball team… who’s ass just so happened to look so good in those white tight-fitting pants.
Your college certainly played into it, giving Nanami the big screen when he takes off his helmet and shakes out his messy blonde hair that a bit damp from sweat. His cheeks are smeared with his eye black smeared on his cheeks (the charcoal black lines that athletes sometimes have).
They knew what they were doing when the yearbook crew took professional level pictures of Nanami looking absolutely jaw-dropping while delivering the nastiest pitch.
He was like eye candy that enticed a bunch of girls to buy tickets to the baseball games, and dammit, it worked.
Despite his celebrity status at the school, Kento didn’t act above anyone else. He didn’t flaunt money or act posh and sophisticated like a lot of the wannabes did at your university.
He was down to earth, smart, caring, and humorous to the right group of people (the dry humor enjoyers). Kento was the type of man to be able to reject someone without them even feeling rejected, which he did a lot when girls would ask for his jersey.
You often came to baseball games to watch (to watch nanami lets bffr), but you weren’t bold enough to ask Kento for his jersey on game days. You had witness girls before you, pilgriming the way to Nanami before they turn back empty handed. You couldn’t risk the heartache.
It wasn’t until one day after class you and Kento were the only two still packing up after a lecture, he casually strolled to your desk. “Will you be at the game tonight?” He asked with a genuine air of curiosity to him. This wasn’t awkward forced conversation because you two were the only two people in a room together.
You hadn’t even known that Nanami noticed you, much less noticed your attendance at games. You could feel your heart start to thud obscenely loud in your chest as you came to terms that you’re not invisible in Kento’s life.
“Yeah, I think I’ll show up…” You try your hardest to sound casual, but you just sound terribly nervous.
“I’ll look forward to seeing you.” He said politely before he reached into his bag and pulled out his spare jersey. “Hopefully wearing this..?”
Your eyes widen as you realize he was offering his jersey to you. “That- are you sure? Me?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” He gives an honest laugh. His multimillion dollar smile makes you swoon, and he hands his jersey out again. “You should put it on now. That’s the tradition, right?”
You slowly slip the jersey on over your long-sleeved white top, and it definitely hangs loosely on you, but with a few tucks and adjustments, it finally sits on your body appropriately.
“It looks good on you. I’ll see you tonight.” Kento smiles before leaving the classroom.
You had never gotten more shocked stares than when girls saw you with “NANAMI” printed across your back.
CHOSO
“Hey Yuji, why does Megumi wear your jersey on game days?” Choso asked his teammate as he sat down on the bench in the locker room.
He had seen quite a few people - guys and girls who weren’t on the basketball team wearing the jerseys of his teammates, but he didn’t understand it. He figured he’d ask the one teammate who he considered to be more of a brother to explain.
“Because I make him.” Yuji laughed as he dried his pink hair off from the shower. It was a pretty brutal practice, even Choso’s raven hair was down, messy from sweat.
Choso furrowed his eyebrows. “Why would you do that-? I thought you liked him.”
Yuji laughed even harder as Choso clearly didn’t understand the dynamic he had with Megumi. He also clearly didn’t understand the concept behind giving someone his jersey.
“I do like him, so I like seeing him wearing my jersey on game days. I think he looks good in it too, even if he pretends to hate it. I know he likes showing his support.” Yuji explained, but he went on, “People give their jerseys to someone they like. It’s like a courting gift, and it lets everyone know your intentions with that person.”
Choso nodded as he began to understand. He should give his jersey to someone he liked - to someone he wanted to court, and his intentions would be made known.
That’s how shy, timid Choso ended up at your dorm door late one evening. After much encouragement and convincing from Yuji, he finally gave your door a soft knock, and Yuji ran around the corner to hide.
When you opened the door, looking at Choso with those big pretty eyes, he completely clammed up and forgot the mental script he had prepared about how he really liked you, and it’d mean a lot to him if you wore his jersey.
Instead, “I want my intentions known.” He nearly shouted as he gestured his jersey to you.
Yuji facepalmed around the corner.
You blinked a few times, looking down at the jersey then back up to him. He was lucky that you’re very good at filling in the blanks. “You want me to wear your jersey, Cho?” You asked with a small laugh before taking the jersey from his hands.
His cheeks were flushed, and he gave you an awkward smile before nodding his head vigorously. “And uh.. I want to court you.” He finally added all in one breath.
To Choso’s delight, you agreed, and now, he finally understands the real reasoning behind giving his jersey to someone he likes because seeing “KAMO” on your back makes him feel all dizzy with love and adoration.
TOJI
It started off as a small prank amongst girls. A prank that really pissed Toji off. A group of girls decided it would be cute to steal Toji’s spare hockey jersey and wear it without his knowledge.
When Toji saw one of the girls wearing his stolen jersey with his appalling last name printed on the back, he was livid.
Needless to say, he got his jersey back, and the girl couldn’t even look him in the eye after that whole experience.
He hated his jersey. He hated how his last name was on the back, and he hated how anyone else would want to wear it.
He couldn’t just get rid of his spare jersey. Then, he’d owe the school even more than what he already owes them. He couldn’t trust to keep it in his dorm because he didn’t put it past those bitches to try to sneak into his dorm to get their filthy hands on it. That was when he had a genius idea.
“Wear my jersey.” His gruff voice demanded as he dropped the fabric on the table in front of you, his too responsible friend.
“No, it probably stinks.” You pushed the jersey aside, trying to focus on the homework in front of you.
“Nah. It smells like the last bitch who stole it.” He remarked as he plopped down in a chair in front of your desk.
“Even worse.” You respond back unamused, still not giving Toji the time of day.
“Do you remember who hunted down the fuck who stole your headphones?”
You sighed, finally looking up at Toji to show that you were paying attention. “Why do you think me wearing your jersey will deter them?”
“Maybe they’ll think you’re my girl and piss off for a while. I don’t know, but if I see another preppy bitch wearing it without my knowledge, I’m going to burn it.” Toji’s voice sounded stressed as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
“And you don’t mind them thinking that?” You inquire, raising your eyebrow.
“Doll, you know I’ve spent the last three years trying to get you to hop on my-“
“Eughhh, give it.” You interrupt Toji before he can go into any further detail, snatching his jersey up and putting it on over your clothes. “There. Happy?”
Toji didn’t expect to have such a reaction to seeing you in his jersey. He knew he was serious about liking you, no matter how much you liked to believe that he didn’t actually like you, but seeing you in his jersey — the way it swallowed you whole. He figured he’d still hate seeing his last name on you, but there was something satiating those deep primal urges when he caught a glimpse of “ZENIN” across your back.
SUKUNA
Sukuna is much comparable to a dragon. He sees something pretty and shiny (you): he wants it all for himself. He wants to hoard treasure (you) to keep, and he definitely does not like the idea of anyone else looking or touching his treasure.
So, how does he keep wandering eyes off his treasure? He cloaks her in his favor, making her brandish his last name on her back along with his number. Yes, Sukuna demanded for you to wear his football jersey.
There was just enough satisfaction of seeing you walk around campus with “SUKUNA” written on your back that kept him from trying to hoard you in his room.
Oh, he’s also like a dragon in the sense that he’s absolutely devastating out on the field.
The room was silent except for the faint hum of the overhead fluorescent light, casting a sterile glow over the darkened office. The glass walls reflected the sharp lines of the man standing at its center—a man whose reputation was whispered with equal parts, fear, and reverence. Dressed in a tailored black suit, his presence was as sharp and cold as the knife that rested on the desk beside him.
Before him, a man knelt on the polished floor, bound and bloodied, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The once-pristine white shirt he wore was now stained with crimson, clinging to his trembling frame. Despite the fear in his eyes, he forced himself to speak, his voice hoarse but unwavering.
“After everything you have done,” he rasped, each word dragging itself out of his throat, “how will you sleep at night?”
The suited man didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a practiced flick of his lighter. The flame illuminated his face for a brief moment—sharp jawline, calculating eyes, and an expression that betrayed no hint of remorse. He took a slow drag, exhaling a stream of smoke that curled lazily into the air before speaking.
“Next to my wife,” he said simply, his voice low and even, as if the question had been nothing more than idle conversation.
The man on the floor blinked, disbelief flickering across his face. “Your... wife?” he spat, the word tasting bitter on his tongue. “You speak of love? You? After the lives you’ve destroyed? The families you’ve torn apart?”
The suited man’s lips curved into a faint smile—not one of amusement, but something softer, almost wistful. He walked around the kneeling man, his footsteps deliberate and slow, the sharp click of his shoes against the marble floor the only sound in the room.
“You think a man like me can’t love?” he asked, his voice calm but laced with a quiet intensity. “You think all I am is the blood on my hands?” He paused, turning to face the prisoner, the glow of the cigarette illuminating his face. “Maybe I am. But she—she’s the one thing in this world that’s clean. Untouched by all of this.”
He gestured around the room, as though the opulent surroundings—the leather furniture - the glass walls overlooking the glittering city—were as tainted as he was.
“She knows what I am,” he continued, his voice softening. “And she loves me anyway. Not because she’s blind to the things I’ve done, but because she sees the man I could be—the man I am with her.”
The kneeling man shook his head, his expression a mix of fury and disbelief. “You think that makes you a good man? That loving her wipes away all the lives you’ve taken?”
The suited man crouched down then, bringing himself to eye level with the prisoner. His gaze was steady, unflinching, as he spoke.
“No,” he said, his tone quiet but firm. “I’m not a good man. I never will be. But for her, I’m the best version of myself I can be. And if that means burning down the rest of the world to keep her safe, so be it.”
He straightened, taking another drag of his cigarette before extinguishing it in a nearby ashtray. The room fell silent again, the tension thick enough to choke on.
A knock at the door broke the moment. The man’s expression softened immediately as the door opened, and you stepped inside.
You were a vision of understated elegance, dressed in a simple black dress that clung to your frame just enough to hint at its curves. Your eyes, warm and bright, scanned the room before landing on him.
“It’s late,” you said softly, your voice carrying a quiet authority that made the man standing in the room seem almost ordinary.
He nodded, crossing the room to you. His hand found yours, and he lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles with a tenderness that seemed impossible for a man like him.
Your gaze flicked to the prisoner, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “Is everything handled?”
“It will be,” he assured you, his voice gentle now, as though you had the power to soften the sharp edges of his world.
You smiled, a small, knowing smile, and leaned into him. “Good. Come to bed.”
As you both left, his hand resting protectively on the small of your back, he paused at the door and glanced over his shoulder at the prisoner.
“How do I sleep at night?” he repeated, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “I sleep with her. And she’s the only peace I’ve ever known.”
The door closed behind him, leaving the room silent but for the hum of the light and the weight of his words.
The husband in question: Geto Suguru, Caleb, Sylus, Vladimir, Sukuna, In-ho (The Front man), Eren Yeager, Toji Fushiguro, Bucky Barnes, Loki, Jason Todd, Victor Fries (Mr. Freeze), Silco, Overhaul, Dabi
Toji is living proof of the phrase "Don't judge a book by its cover." Because, how do you mean to tell me, this cold-blooded, ruthless man, is whom you call your husband? The father to your son? The blueprint for Little Megumi? You want to tell me, that, Toji Fushiguro, the man who used to kill for a living, is the same man who gets bossed around by a toddler?
Preposterous.
Originally, ten minutes ago, Toji was supposed to be sitting on the couch, nursing a bottle of soda, and watching the sports game he had been waiting for all week, but what was he doing instead?
Reading a bedtime story.
Megumi had dragged his father up the stairs, forced him to sit on the little frog-shaped stool next to his bed (which was way too small to fit a grown man), and read Room on the Broom—a story about a witch and her impromptu companions.
"C'mon, 'Gumi," began a hesitant Toji, as the stool continuously creaked under his weight; "it's past Halloween. Don't you want to read something else?"
"No! Wan' read Room on the Broom!"
"Hey. That is not any way to speak to your father, buddy."
Megumi crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back and falling against the pillows on his bed. "Hmph. I know why you don't want to read Room on the Broom."
"Oh, really? You do now?"
"Yeah," Megumi scoffed. "You're just mad that you wouldn't fit on the broom."
This was hidden in the vault... Bringing it into light 🫣
Mark was supposed to have a romantic skating date with you. But thanks to Debbie, he now has an unexpected plus one, his very nosy little brother (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)
Mark had been looking forward to this date for days, just him and you finally. A nice, normal perfect night out where he can give you all his attention instead of you know, saving the world.
Just the two of you, holding hands, maybe even sneaking a few kisses in if he was lucky.
So when he walked into the living room all freshly showered, decently dressed for once and ready to head out.
Of course, Debbie had other plans.
“You're taking Oliver,” Debbie said, completely ignoring the way Mark choked on his own spit. “What!?” Nearly dropping his skates. “Mom, no. No way it's a date!”
“And Oliver's a child who wants to get out the house” She said while ruffling Oliver’s hair. “You'll be responsible. Right Mark?”
Mark’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. Turning around expecting Oliver to protest but nope! The kid was already smiling, shoes on and ready to go.
“But–”
Before another word, Debbie gave him that Mom look.
Mark groaned, pressing his fingers into his eyes before throwing his hands in defeat. “Fine”
It only got worse from there.
When Mark pulled up, you were expecting a cute night out with him. Instead, the first thing you noticed when you slid into the passenger seat was.. “Oliver?”
You looked between the two of them, the way Oliver was happily kicking his feet in the backseat while Mark looked like he wanted to crash into oncoming traffic.
“Oh my god” You beamed. “Your mom made you bring him. Didn't she?”
Mark scowled. “Don't ask.”
But it was too late, you were already giggling.
This was going to be fun.
At first it was just a few minor interruptions, every time Mark tried to subtly hold your hand. Oliver skated right between you two. Mark tries to whisper something cute? Oliver slurps his milkshake obnoxiously loud.
Mark dares to make flirty eye contact? “Why are you staring at her like that?
Mark was losing it, and you? You were loving it. Barely holding it together, biting your lips to keep yourself from laughing as Mark sat there, completely dead inside.
And then?
“Oh!” Oliver's eyes widened. “You're the girl Mark won't shut up about?” Mark choked.
“Oliver!”
“What?” Oliver blinked innocently. “You talk about her all the time”
Your smirk grew, turning to face Mark, resting your chin on your palm. “All the time?”
Mark, red faced and flustered, grabbed a fry and shoved it into Oliver’s mouth.
“Eat.”
“He's adorable” You giggled watching him munch on the fries.
After an hour of skating, Oliver finally gets distracted by the snake bar. Seizing the opportunity, Mark grabbed your hand and pulled you to the edge of the rink, away from the chaos.
“Finally” He muttered, pressing quick kisses to your knuckles.
You smiled. “Desperate, are we?”
Mark exhaled, leaning his forehead against yours. “You have no idea” Your breath hitched , caught up in the warmth of his body and the cool air of the rink. The distant hum of music surrounded you, the twinkling lights above casting a soft shadow over Mark’s face.
He looked at you, like you were the only person in the world. He was just about to lean when–
Thud.
A tray of nachos and cheese hit the ground.
“Aw, come on!” You and Mark turned your heads at the same time. Oliver stood there, arms crossed, and a big frown on his face.
Pointing an accusatory finger at mark.
“I leave for 2 minutes and you guys are already being gross?”
Mark groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Oliver”
“What?” he huffed, walking up and standing between you two. “Mom said to make sure you weren't doing anything weird”
You blushed, laughter bubbling up before you could stop it. Mark, however, looked like he wanted to pass out from the secondhand embarrassment. “Dude, you're, like, the worst chaperone ever.”
Mark looked at you helplessly, but you smiled. Grabbing his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze,
“Guess you'll have to be sneakier next time” you teased, bumping his shoulder playfully.
Mark lets out a long, dramatic sigh. “Next time, I'm leaving him at home."
Characters: Satoru, Suguru, and Choso.
Your sweet husbands are taking care of the kids for you while you're at some wedding the invite clearly saying "No Kids". That's fine...your husband can handle it right?
Satoru was sure he could handle it. After all, how hard could it be to watch over his little guy for a few hours while you attended a wedding? But what he didn’t account for was his soon-to-be one-year-old's teething phase turning his sweet baby into a tiny, drooling menace.
With his son strapped snugly in a baby harness against his chest, Satoru was convinced they’d get through the day without a hitch. He had his lecture planned, a mission lined up with the kids, and, of course, his little one’s nap schedule firmly memorized. You had emphasized that routine was essential, and he, being the ever-attentive husband, was sure he’d nailed it.
But as he strolled into the school, proudly chatting with his colleagues about how “easy” fatherhood was, his little boy had other plans. Every few seconds, tiny, sticky hands would reach up, eagerly grasping for Satoru’s fingers for a nibble. Drool was dripping steadily from his son’s mouth, leaving a little trail on Satoru’s shirt, but he didn’t mind. With his heart full and his confidence sky-high, he figured everything was under control.
When his little mochi whimpered and grabbed at his fingers for the hundredth time, Satoru finally glanced down, pressing a light kiss to his son’s wild, snow-white hair. “Easy day, right, buddy?” he cooed, still blissfully unaware of what was to come.
It was not an easy day. Satoru’s confidence shattered the instant a huge wail erupted from his little one, echoing down the hallway and catching the attention of every passing student. Big, red cheeks puffed up on his son’s face, tiny fists reaching up toward Satoru with desperation, his drooly little mouth quivering.
"Maybe he’s hungry?" Satoru murmured, patting his son's back, hoping to soothe him. "Or tired already? Ah, come on, little mochi, we were supposed to have this handled." But the cries only grew louder, and a creeping realization hit him—he’d left the diaper bag at home. And the toys.
“Oh, crap…” He muttered, running a hand through his hair in a rare moment of panic. Three hours of sleep had definitely taken its toll, and he was starting to feel the weight of every “no problem” promise he’d made to you that morning.
With no pacifier, no extra clothes, and his son's unhappy shrieks growing louder, Satoru swallowed his pride and started bouncing a little, whispering desperately, “C’mon, buddy, give your dad a break… Just till Momma gets back…”
Nanami found him standing helplessly in the hallway, looking like he'd been caught in the middle of a disaster zone. Without missing a beat, Nanami took in the sight—the wailing, red-cheeked baby clawing at Satoru’s face, and Satoru’s sheepish, desperate smile—and made an easy diagnosis.
"He's teething, probably," Nanami said in his typical stoic tone. "At that age, and judging by that wail, he's frustrated. Take it from someone who has three kids."
Satoru blinked at him, slightly stunned. What was Nanami, some kind of baby whisperer? How did he know all this?
As if reading his mind, Nanami continued, "Hold on. I have a baby bag in my car. We keep a spare unopened teething ring and some other essentials." His gaze swept over Satoru’s empty hands and slightly disheveled look. "Judging by the lack of your baby bag, I’m guessing you forgot some things."
Satoru’s face broke into a sheepish laugh, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah… three hours of sleep will do that to a guy."
Without another word, Nanami turned, motioning for Satoru to follow. “Come on. We’ll get him sorted. And maybe—” he gave Satoru a pointed look, “—I’ll teach you a thing or two.”
Satoru chuckled, half-relieved, half-embarrassed as he followed. Maybe today will be a bit easier after all.
Suguru had parenting down to an art. He practically embodied the role so well that anyone might mistake him for a mother, the way he handled each detail with care and precision. Fortunately, the twins were off at school, leaving him with his youngest—his curious little boy who’d just turned two. As they made their way to the training grounds, Suguru watched his son toddling beside him, attached by one of those child leash backpacks. You’d joked it was a control thing when he brought it home, and honestly, he couldn’t deny it. His peace of mind was priceless.
When they arrived, the first years immediately gravitated toward the little one, their hearts melting at his wide-eyed gaze and tiny fingers pointing at everything in sight. Suguru could only chuckle softly, amused by the way his son looked at the world, taking it all in with endless wonder.
With a practiced calm, Suguru spread a soft blanket over the grass, laying out toys and a couple of sturdy board books for his little one. Settling down, he reached for the sunscreen, his voice gentle as he coaxed his son to sit still. "Come on, let’s put some sunscreen on you," he said softly, hands cradling his son's round cheeks as he carefully smoothed the cream into every nook and cranny of his chubby face.
Every so often, he’d throw a glare at the first years when he caught them stealing glances instead of focusing on their stretching. “Eyes on your forms,” he reminded, his voice just stern enough to bring them back to reality.
Suguru returned his focus to his little boy, who was already distracted by a toy, happily babbling.
"Pink!" His son shouted as he pointed at Yuji.
"That's so good. Yeah, his hair is pink." Suguru would speak soflty and slowly as he put on a little sun hat on his son.
Today was going to be a good day—quiet, simple, and fully excited to see his wife when he got home.
Choso was great with kids—everyone said so. But when it came to his own little one, especially now that she was sick, he felt completely out of his depth. His heart twisted painfully as he looked at his sweet four-year-old daughter, who’d woken him from a much-needed nap after a grueling late-night mission.
“I threw up, Papa…” she whimpered, her little face streaked with tears and a sniffle escaping her as she looked up at him.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Choso got to work. He changed her sheets, gathered up the laundry, and made sure she was comfortable as she crawled into his and your shared bed, nestling herself among the pillows. He placed a kiss on her forehead, murmuring a soft, “Rest here, baby. Papa will be right back.”
Heading downstairs, he mulled over what he’d need. Being half-curse, he’d never experienced sickness himself, which left him a little lost on how to help his little one. Juice seemed like a good idea, right? He also started a small pot of rice, recalling something he’d read online about gentle foods being good for sick children.
A quick call to Nanami confirmed he was on the right track. Suguru added a few more helpful tips, and by the time he went back upstairs, juice in one hand and a bowl of rice in the other, he felt a little more prepared.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he gently nudged his daughter awake. “Here, baby,” he said softly, brushing a hand through her hair. “I’ve got some juice and a little bit of rice for you. It’ll help you feel better.”
She blinked up at him, still sniffling, but managed a small, grateful smile, reaching for the juice first. Choso settled beside her, his hand resting on her back as he rubbed slow, comforting circles, silently wishing he could take all her discomfort away. He might be half-curse, but nothing could change how deeply he cared for his little girl.
sukuna who is known to be huge and overpowering. his body built for violence and destruction and nothing more, nothing less.
ever since his youth he has learned the inevitable destruction he has caused and has made peace with it.
until now.
now, he holds his precious daughter in his arms. such a sweet, small thing that he created.
he finds it hard to believe when the nurse tells him that she's a little small than usual babies. coming from a giant like him it's strange that he's produced something so small and fragile.
the nurse reassures that it's nothing to worry about too much as she'll grow to a healthy weight over time.
'you birthed this little thing?' he murmurs, staring down at the child. her eyes are still closed, her screaming now coming to a stop. small and peaceful, something sukuna is foreign to.
'please don't call our child a thing 'kuna' you noted, your tone has no snappiness to it, exhausted from the birth. 'and you were by my side the entire what do you mean did I birth her?'
it's a stupid question. and he knows it but sukuna offers no reply to you, his eyes are glued to his child. she's quiet now in her father's arms as if he provides her the solace she's been searching for.
tiny arms and legs and even tinier fingers and toes, he can't believe it. the wisps of her hair and her lashes, every fine detail contains a part of him. so small and innocent, unlike her villainous father known to cause death and destruction.
it's like no other moment that has happened matters more than this.
as sukuna studies his baby girl he makes a promise to himself.
to look after and protect her at all costs.
no matter what.
I think I might have baby fever this is the second post that has a baby mentioned..
who did it?
warnings: short drabble, are u guys surprised these are coming out of my brain, hehe, fluff
“Who did it?” Yaga asks, sat before you on his chair as the 4 of you sat on your legs kneeled before him on the ground, both arms raised in the air in punishment.
Silence.
Shoko is avoiding eye contact, choosing to stay out of trouble, eyes pinned to the floor as she throws accusatory glances to the boys next to her.
Satoru is pouting, sunglasses tilted downwards as he sits in the direct middle along with Suguru. Shameless, looking in all directions excluding his teacher’s gaze.
He’s not gonna admit it.
Suguru is as void of shame as his counterpart, blowing his strand of hair out of the way as he listens to Yaga-sensei’s tapping.
He’s not gonna admit it either.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. The insistent knocks of the rolled of sheets of paper hit against the homeroom teacher’s palm. Patient. Waiting.
“Who blew the hole in the gym wall?”
Silence still.
Yaga persists.
“Admit it now and the consequences will be less dire.”
You sit there, legs feeling dead from the position. The soreness of having to spar one on one with Geto the previous day starting to kick in, your arms trembling as you try desperately to hold them up. You don’t think you can.
Suguru notices first, subtly shifting closer to you and positioning his elbow out enough to help support one of your trembling arms, taking tension off of it as he holds your sore arm up with his own.
Yaga doesn’t notice even when you flash your slightly teary gaze of gratitude towards Suguru, smiling lightly.
You speak up.
“Y-yaga-sensei, I-“
“No, (last name). It’s not you.”
You gulp nervously, keeping your mouth shut.
Yaga decides on an ultimatum.
“You all have 3 seconds to confess.”
“Three.” Suguru’s still keeping your arm up.
“Two.” Satoru wants this to be over sooner.
“On-“
“Sensei~” Shoko drawls out. “Suguru and Satoru had a fight.”
“Traitor!”
“Shoko…!”
“Gojo and Geto stay back. (last name) and Ieiri. You are dismissed.”
As the door is shut behind you, you can’t help but worriedly grasp onto Shoko’s arm.
“Well, not our problem anymore.” She pauses, thinking for a second.
“Shall we go to the vending machine together?”
masterlist
Notes:
You ended up drinking chocolate milk together with Shoko by the vending machines.
Satoru and Suguru came out soon after with large, swollen lumps atop their heads.
Shoko had her stationary disappear and reappear out of midair for a day straight.
A day, because you kept offering to share with her and giving her reason to push her desk closer to yours. Sharing textbooks, pencils, erasers… Oh, you’re blushing at how scandalous it is.
The perpetrators did not like that.
Retired Series
The Adventures of Sunny and Miggy (A Miguel O’Hara X Female! SpiderWoman! Reader Oneshot series)
Topics included: Grumpy x Sunshine, Fluff to the max, Miguel being a sweetheart, Trauma, slightly dark themes (not a dark fic, but topics such as child loss and traumatic experiences with death.), Established relationships?, pinning, slow burn?
TDLR: Who could possibly handle the stubborn, hot headed, arrogant hot leader of the Spider Society? His Sunny of course. Come see how these two just make it work.
((6/3/23: There is no chronological order to this at this point so read as you please))
Walking on Sunshine
Sweet As You
As Warm As You
Just A Bite
Come on, Baby, Cry
Grumpy Kitty, Soft Kitty
To Love and Hold
From Your Point of View
Our Girl
Just A Taste
Our Love ((Part 2 to Our Girl))
Dance With Me
Father’s Day ((2.5 to Our Girl))
Head Canons~
Miguel with an S/O with a black cat personality Miguel with an S/O with social anxiety
Miguel with a human civilian S/O ((also General relationship head-canons))
One Shots~
Cat Got Your Tongue?
mk and mei sleepover (gone wrong)