When you finally find the MF who ruined your life.
"The Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba Mugen Train Arc TV" Rengoku Kyojuro's hands....
thinking about geto and that defenseless little pet part
jjk boys favorite pet names?
Gojo — babe, baby, princess, sweetheart/sweetie, hun bun (mocking), muffin (mocking).
Geto — angel, defenseless little pet (mocking), my crutch, my only exception, princess, sweetheart, sweet girl.
Mahito — plaything, pet, prey, pretty, weakness.
Nanami — angel, honey, my light, precious, special girl, sweetie/sweetheart, troublemaker.
Naoya — little one, love, pet, sweetheart (mocking), sweet girl (mocking), wife.
Sukuna — baby, darling (mocking), pet, pretty human, sweetie (mocking), love (mocking), thrall.
Toji — babe, darlin', sex on legs, side piece, sweet thing, toots.
has tumblr seen this yet
edit: ID in alt, it’s my first time writing one so let me know if it needs to be altered somehow.
do you ever start writing a comment on the internet and then think “oh what the fuck am i going on about” and delete it
気がするより、我妻善逸。
𝟒:𝟓𝟏 𝐀𝐌 | 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔.
satoru looks happy—the real kind. the kind where his lips are curved into a soft, giddy grin and not his usual smirk. the kind where his blindfold is pushed down to hang around his neck so you can see the little gleam in his eyes. the kind that makes him cradle a newborn in his arms and rock her gently as he kisses her temple every few moments.
“she has your eyes,” he says quietly, tracing over the soft skin of your daughter’s cheek with his thumb. his hand looks rather big compared to her tiny face, and you’re almost certain it’s hearts he’s tracing with each rounded motion.
“i know,” you murmur, watching relief dance around the corners of his expression.
“thank god,” he chuckles—and if there’s a wobble to his voice, you don’t point out. “she looks like me though. ‘s why she’s so cute.”
and normally, maybe you’d indulge him in a halfhearted argument, maybe you’d scowl and tell him to keep quiet for once, but satoru is happy. and it’s not just a thin blanket with tattered rips at the seams meant to cover the weight clung to his shoulders.
it’s real, and it’s woven seamlessly into the crinkles of his eyes.
“it’s our job as parents to think she’s cute,” you snort, “but she’s definitely the cutest baby i’ve had the pleasure of seeing,” you add with a little bit of pride in your voice.
“of course she is. she’s my baby,” he coos as he stares down at her, gently pinching her cheek. she stares up at him, comically small against his strong arms and broad chest, and when a tiny hand grasps around his finger, you pretend once more that his eyes aren’t wet and glossy.
“actually, she’s our baby,” you correct, glaring at him.
“you must be really sad you’re not my only baby anymore,” he snickers, looking at you with his usual smug grin. but there’s something on the edge of grateful and awestruck that’s in his eyes—and you think he stares at you like you’ve handed him a ray of light you plucked from the sun’s core, gently pressing the warmth to his palms and soothing over the cold and dry cracks on the skin.
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