🫧 somewhere between starlight and sorrow lives this little sanctuary of mine, where stories drift like mist through ivy-covered halls. let the world fall away. you are exactly where you need to be. read freely, dream boldly, and feel deeply.
🕯️paths to follow: about me ⟡ masterlist ⟡ blog rules
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follow the soft glow to my blog rules. it ensures a safe journey.
📚 the latest tales:
poly satosugu: the prequel
the space between us
a satoru gojo angst-filled love story, woven with devotion, yearning, and everything left unsaid.
🍃 notes before you wander:
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you’ll find both stardust and sin here; this blog is not spoiler-free and often drifts into nsfw territory. please tread gently and mind the tags.
requests are welcome here, but my muse is a fickle thing, and not every spark catches fire.
thank you for stepping into this little corner of my mind. i hope my stories bring you solace and a little bit of magic.
was just thinkin about gojo if he played college baseball and it kinda spiraled from there…
baseballplayer!satoru who never misses the chance to show off—especially if you’re watching.
he is most definitely the starting pitcher. are you kidding? the aura? the charisma? the energy? he’s cocky and a total diva because he’s the team’s ace. their defensive lineup is nothing without his skills.
baseballplayer!satoru who has your initials stitched on his glove.
he is so superstitious and ritualistic that he will only wear his lucky batting gloves if you hand them to him. he’ll even throw a fit if you don’t give him a good luck kiss before the game because he’s absolutely certain that you’re the reason he’s preforming so well.
he’s not obnoxious about PDA (anymore), but he does always have a hand on your waist or around your shoulders. physical contact of some kind is a must or he’ll get pouty.
baseballplayer!satoru who loves all the snacks you pack for him. he claims he plays better when they come from you and he refuses to get anything store-bought because they don’t ‘taste the same’.
baseballplayer!satoru who gets mildly offended when you cheer too loudly for his teammates or even mention an opposing team.
he pouts and starts to sulk, his eyes narrowing in mock-suspicion. “i’m literally the best player on the field. you wouldn’t betray me like that…right…?” you just giggle and roll your eyes in response, squishing his cheeks fondly. he’s definitely still pouting, but it’s all facade. he’s actively trying not to smile and is hiding the fact that he’s melting on the inside at the sound of your laugh.
baseballplayer!satoru who always pushes himself to the limit and is absolutely exhausted after practice.
he’ll flop himself onto the bed, curling up against you with a huff. “babyyy…my body hurts. please love on me. it’s the only thing that’ll make me feel better.” and after about two minutes of head scratches he's out cold, head firmly planted on your chest as his fingers curl around your shirt. so big and bad on the field but turns to putty in your arms.
he’ll take you on long drives with no destination in mind, especially after a tiring day. the windows are down as the wind whistles through the car. the music is low, the melody soft and peaceful. his hand rests on your thigh, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin.
he talks about his dreams of going pro, but always ending with, “as long as you’re there, i don’t care where i end up. and when i make it big, im taking you with me. first-class. forever.”
baseballplayer!satoru who sometimes sneaks you onto the field after-hours.
he teaches you how to hold a bat, how to throw a pitch, and would most definitely make terrible innuendos the entire time.
“Gotta get a firm grip, sweetheart. Can’t swing properly if you don’t wrap your hands around it just right.” you almost laugh. almost.
“Don’t be shy. Give it everything you’ve got. Full body movement. Trust me—hips make all the difference.” this one earns him a soft slap to his bicep as you roll your eyes, but the smile on your face and warmth in your cheeks tells him everything he needs to know.
you show up for him every single day, on and off the field. but don’t think he doesn’t also support you 100%. in fact, his reciprocity always goes above and beyond. when you do something amazing—ace a test, get a promotion, anything—he leaves a gift box on your pillow or takes you somewhere nice. sometimes, he wears your name written on tape over the back of his jersey just to make a point.
“gotta let ‘em know who i play for.”
baseballplayer!satoru who takes you to all the college ragers and keg parties with him.
if someone starts flirting with you, he keeps his cool. however, he will slide in behind you, his arms snaking around your waist as he presses a few kisses to your neck. he’ll cast a sly glance at the person before looking down at you, “sorry, this one’s taken. isn’t that right, sweetheart?” he’d say, his smirk never wavering.
baseballplayer!satoru when he wears his backwards baseball cap and smirks down at you? dangerous. at first, he didn’t understand the effects—fidgeting with his hats is a compulsion at this point. but once he figured it out? he does it on purpose. he loves that it drives you crazy.
sometimes, during a heated makeout session, he’ll take it off and put it on you. he pauses, giving himself a moment to drink in the sight of you—lips swollen and eyes low. you gaze up at him with the cutest little smile while his thumbs trace your cheeks. he can’t help but bite his lip and mutter, “shit. you’re gonna be the death of me.”
and after a big win, he’s so hyped up and absolutely buzzing with adrenaline that he almost doesn’t make it all the way home. he pins you against the wall the second the door closes, growling in your ear, “i need you. now.”
his calloused hands run along your body as he roughly tugs on your clothes, lips sucking on your soft flesh while he nips at your skin.
baseballplayer!satoru who has an undeniable praise kink. i guess that's why he's such good team player...
he runs his mouth like it’s second nature—on the field, in the locker room, and especially when you’re beneath him. he's downright filthy. this man is obnoxiously confident, downright obsessed with you, and dangerously good with his words…
he whispers praise and filth in the same breath, telling you how good you feel, how pretty you sound, and especially how lucky he is to have you like this. all his.
“you like watching me on the field, baby? bet you like this more, huh?”
he’s driven by his deep rooted desire for you to always know how badly he wants you. every moan, every arch of your back, every flutter of your lashes drives him crazy, and he’s not shy about saying it.
“you hear that? that’s allll you. sounding so damn pretty for me.”
“look at you—fuck, i don’t deserve this…my pretty girl—i don’t deserve you.”
he gets especially talkative when you’re being quiet. if you try to bite back your sounds, he’ll go feral trying to break you open with his voice alone.
“cmon, baby. don’t hide it. let me hear how good i make you feel.”
you already know he’s got so much stamina, and if you don’t answer him the way he likes, he’ll thrust even harder, burying himself even deeper, trying to get those sweet sounds to fall from your lips once more.
“say it, pretty girl. say who’s making you feel this good.”
and, when it’s just the two of you, the rest world fading into background noise, he’s soft in ways that only you get to see.
in his mind, he'd happily trade teasing smirks for sleepy smiles, his constant sexual innuendos for whispered “i love you’s,” and baseball caps for hoodie-covered cuddles. he still talks a big game, of course. that will never change. but now it’s about the future he wants with you, the tiny apartment he wants to share, the warm meals after practice, the wins you’ll celebrate together.
because to satoru, success means nothing if you're not by his side. you were always the real home run. his most valuable win.
author note! i know this has probably been done before but i have personally never read/seen any gojo x baseball before and the urge to write my own headcannons was too intense to ignore. i hope y'all enjoyed!
was just thinkin about gojo if he played college baseball and it kinda spiraled from there…
baseballplayer!satoru who never misses the chance to show off—especially if you’re watching.
he is most definitely the starting pitcher. are you kidding? the aura? the charisma? the energy? he’s cocky and a total diva because he’s the team’s ace. their defensive lineup is nothing without his skills.
baseballplayer!satoru who has your initials stitched on his glove.
he is so superstitious and ritualistic that he will only wear his lucky batting gloves if you hand them to him. he’ll even throw a fit if you don’t give him a good luck kiss before the game because he’s absolutely certain that you’re the reason he’s preforming so well.
he’s not obnoxious about PDA (anymore), but he does always have a hand on your waist or around your shoulders. physical contact of some kind is a must or he’ll get pouty.
baseballplayer!satoru who loves all the snacks you pack for him. he claims he plays better when they come from you and he refuses to get anything store-bought because they don’t ‘taste the same’.
baseballplayer!satoru who gets mildly offended when you cheer too loudly for his teammates or even mention an opposing team.
he pouts and starts to sulk, his eyes narrowing in mock-suspicion. “i’m literally the best player on the field. you wouldn’t betray me like that…right…?” you just giggle and roll your eyes in response, squishing his cheeks fondly. he’s definitely still pouting, but it’s all facade. he’s actively trying not to smile and is hiding the fact that he’s melting on the inside at the sound of your laugh.
baseballplayer!satoru who always pushes himself to the limit and is absolutely exhausted after practice.
he’ll flop himself onto the bed, curling up against you with a huff. “babyyy…my body hurts. please love on me. it’s the only thing that’ll make me feel better.” and after about two minutes of head scratches he's out cold, head firmly planted on your chest as his fingers curl around your shirt. so big and bad on the field but turns to putty in your arms.
he’ll take you on long drives with no destination in mind, especially after a tiring day. the windows are down as the wind whistles through the car. the music is low, the melody soft and peaceful. his hand rests on your thigh, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin.
he talks about his dreams of going pro, but always ending with, “as long as you’re there, i don’t care where i end up. and when i make it big, im taking you with me. first-class. forever.”
baseballplayer!satoru who sometimes sneaks you onto the field after-hours.
he teaches you how to hold a bat, how to throw a pitch, and would most definitely make terrible innuendos the entire time.
“Gotta get a firm grip, sweetheart. Can’t swing properly if you don’t wrap your hands around it just right.” you almost laugh. almost.
“Don’t be shy. Give it everything you’ve got. Full body movement. Trust me—hips make all the difference.” this one earns him a soft slap to his bicep as you roll your eyes, but the smile on your face and warmth in your cheeks tells him everything he needs to know.
you show up for him every single day, on and off the field. but don’t think he doesn’t also support you 100%. in fact, his reciprocity always goes above and beyond. when you do something amazing—ace a test, get a promotion, anything—he leaves a gift box on your pillow or takes you somewhere nice. sometimes, he wears your name written on tape over the back of his jersey just to make a point.
“gotta let ‘em know who i play for.”
baseballplayer!satoru who takes you to all the college ragers and keg parties with him.
if someone starts flirting with you, he keeps his cool. however, he will slide in behind you, his arms snaking around your waist as he presses a few kisses to your neck. he’ll cast a sly glance at the person before looking down at you, “sorry, this one’s taken. isn’t that right, sweetheart?” he’d say, his smirk never wavering.
baseballplayer!satoru when he wears his backwards baseball cap and smirks down at you? dangerous. at first, he didn’t understand the effects—fidgeting with his hats is a compulsion at this point. but once he figured it out? he does it on purpose. he loves that it drives you crazy.
sometimes, during a heated makeout session, he’ll take it off and put it on you. he pauses, giving himself a moment to drink in the sight of you—lips swollen and eyes low. you gaze up at him with the cutest little smile while his thumbs trace your cheeks. he can’t help but bite his lip and mutter, “shit. you’re gonna be the death of me.”
and after a big win, he’s so hyped up and absolutely buzzing with adrenaline that he almost doesn’t make it all the way home. he pins you against the wall the second the door closes, growling in your ear, “i need you. now.”
his calloused hands run along your body as he roughly tugs on your clothes, lips sucking on your soft flesh while he nips at your skin.
baseballplayer!satoru who has an undeniable praise kink. i guess that's why he's such good team player...
he runs his mouth like it’s second nature—on the field, in the locker room, and especially when you’re beneath him. he's downright filthy. this man is obnoxiously confident, downright obsessed with you, and dangerously good with his words…
he whispers praise and filth in the same breath, telling you how good you feel, how pretty you sound, and especially how lucky he is to have you like this. all his.
“you like watching me on the field, baby? bet you like this more, huh?”
he’s driven by his deep rooted desire for you to always know how badly he wants you. every moan, every arch of your back, every flutter of your lashes drives him crazy, and he’s not shy about saying it.
“you hear that? that’s allll you. sounding so damn pretty for me.”
“look at you—fuck, i don’t deserve this…my pretty girl—i don’t deserve you.”
he gets especially talkative when you’re being quiet. if you try to bite back your sounds, he’ll go feral trying to break you open with his voice alone.
“cmon, baby. don’t hide it. let me hear how good i make you feel.”
you already know he’s got so much stamina, and if you don’t answer him the way he likes, he’ll thrust even harder, burying himself even deeper, trying to get those sweet sounds to fall from your lips once more.
“say it, pretty girl. say who’s making you feel this good.”
and, when it’s just the two of you, the rest world fading into background noise, he’s soft in ways that only you get to see.
in his mind, he'd happily trade teasing smirks for sleepy smiles, his constant sexual innuendos for whispered “i love you’s,” and baseball caps for hoodie-covered cuddles. he still talks a big game, of course. that will never change. but now it’s about the future he wants with you, the tiny apartment he wants to share, the warm meals after practice, the wins you’ll celebrate together.
because to satoru, success means nothing if you're not by his side. you were always the real home run. his most valuable win.
author note! i know this has probably been done before but i have personally never read/seen any gojo x baseball before and the urge to write my own headcannons was too intense to ignore. i hope y'all enjoyed!
