the road leads back to you

the road leads back to you

[cinnamoneve]

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♠ heliophile - satoru gojo x f!reader above rabbit art by @/ayagalgani on tiktok! all dividers as well as blog header custom made by me. please do not steal, modify, or use as your own.

[deadontheweb3]

[memories]

surprise, fellow kids. I bet you thought you’d seen the last of cinnamoneve

[cinnamoneve]

bringing this back now that i've remembered the password to this account

[heich0e]

love men who fall into "my girl is mad at me i hope i die" category but who also regularly do things to piss their girl off. duality of man

[cinnamoneve]

how is gojo's shirt still in one piece . gege are u Fucking kidding me

[cinnamoneve]

𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐚.

oneirataxia \ one-er-tax-ea \ (n.) - the inability to distinguish between fantasy and reality

❆ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: gojo satoru x gn!reader ❆ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: satoru's perception of love changes as he learns what it really means through you ❆ 𝐰𝐜: 1.8k ❆ 𝐚/𝐧: another self indulgent character study ahaha....we are so back... ❆ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none :3

i want to be loved. 

all he knew about love was what’s been shown to him in media. songs about pining, books about lust, and movies about soulmates who weren’t meant to be. maybe that’s why rom-coms had secretly always been satoru’s guilty pleasure.

he wasn’t really sure what ‘love’ looked like, in any sense of the word. familial, platonic, romantic–any iteration. he grew up pretty well protected and sheltered, his parents leaving his handling to a bodyguard or dedicated nanny. where maternal and paternal love should live, there’s a soft hole in his heart filled instead with expensive toys, a home cooked meal that wasn’t made by a parent, and extravagant trips to keep his location a mystery.

satoru didn’t mind it. at least he didn’t think so–it’s all he’d ever known. being so sought-after and sheltered as a kid made it difficult to make and keep friends. primed for the world of sorcerers since his birth shook the balance, satoru never had much of a chance to be a kid at all, really. 

it manifests where you least expect it. his apartment is cold and independent; no notions of family anywhere in the sparsely decorated penthouse. all of the money in the world couldn’t buy the love that was stunted in his life. it’s hard to bridge that gap when you don’t see the gap at all. satoru sees no issue in it. he’s slowly started to fill the apartment with nods of his personality. a picture of the two of you, a ‘thank you’ card given to him by a student, a book megumi recommended to him collecting dust on his coffee table. he doesn’t really have time for reading, anyways.

before you met, satoru imagined love to be something different. love was crying in the rain, dancing with your lover like you didn’t care who was watching. it was running through an airport before they took off, catching them at the gate and convincing them to stay. it was red roses garnished with a bow. it was playing your favorite song on a speaker outside of your window, getting your attention by throwing pebbles at the glass. 

it was some of those things, sure. not in the way the two of you loved.

you taught satoru what love was in a different way. he didn’t think love could be so…normal? not grandiose. moments of love are between the big ‘movie-moments,’ he’s realized. he can’t remember exactly when he’d fallen in love with you, but there’s a few moments that stick out to him.

he’d first come to recognize what gentle love was when he came home from a long mission. he’d been gone for about 3 weeks, with very little contact. only small updates that he was alive to keep you at bay. maybe it was the lack of familial love that keeps him at an arm’s length. he stinks at communication–it’s probably his most fatal flaw. a bit of an isolationist at heart, satoru needs to constantly remind himself to keep in touch with his own partner. he’s learning to be better at it, and you’re learning to be more patient. a relationship is a compromise, after all.

he finally walked in the door, unannounced and unplanned. it was about 2 a.m. when he slithered in, taking his time to be extra quiet in the late hours. the house was silent, dark, and your shoes were by the door. must be asleep.

satoru walked to the bedroom, exhaustion and frustration clouding his headspace. what he really needed was a shower and a long rest, but he’d try for the former in the morning.

first, the smell of his cologne hit his nose. it wasn’t offensive, but it was a little overbearing–where was this coming from? he’d certainly not worn it in this room in nearly three weeks. he turned a soft light on to get undressed, and you shuffled in your sleep. and then he saw you.

satoru almost took you for a stranger. you were using his pillow, sitting on his side of the bed, wearing his sweatshirt. you looked like an angel there, sleeping so soundly that he barely wanted to move the bed and get in it. so he didn’t, just for a bit. the hole in his heart was slowly filling back up, and it hurt his chest a bit in a way that made it feel like it’d burst. nonetheless, he grabbed your pillow that you’d tossed aside and laid down next to you. 

and his nostrils burned a bit.

you’d sprayed his cologne all over the bed. the scent was a little overwhelming, but everything in him was too enamored to even think straight. he scooted the pillow a bit closer to you, snaking his arms around you to pull you closer to him. this was sweeter than anything he’s seen before; ‘this is love,’ he thought to himself. 

i want to be loved.

satoru didn’t realize that he’d always wanted this. he just didn’t know what he was missing out on. and here you are, proving it again and again. is this the love he dreamed of? that he saw in everything he watched? he wiped his eyes.

something about this interaction changed him deep down. and while you weren’t awake to see this one, satoru had a similar reaction on two other occasions.

one was his birthday. 

there’s something beautifully tragic about crying on your birthday; are you crying that time is passing? crying that you’ll never be that age again? if there’s one thing that binds humanity, crying on your birthday has to be close to the top.

you were eyeing satoru when you asked him about his birthday plans. he brushed them off, saying that celebrating his birthday was never a priority.

“you’ve never had a birthday party as a kid?” you ask.

“mm, nope,” he responded flatly, “i didn’t really celebrate my birthday when i was younger. it was like any other day to me, y’know?”

you huffed, pouted, and said okay. he’d figured that was the end of it, until the day came along.

satoru walked in from work, again, to a dark apartment. mildly annoyed, he flicked on the lights to see you standing in the decorated house, wearing a dorky little party hat.

“surprise!” you cheered, blowing into a cheap paper horn.

satoru smiled, amused, “what’s all this?”

“happy birthday, honey,” you finally walked through the streamers and balloons on the floor to greet him with a kiss. “sit at the table,”

he took his coat and shoes off, slowly walking to the dinner table as he admired the work you put in. it was decorated very childishly–a homemade banner, bright, primary colors as the main points sticking out. streamers, balloons with cartoon characters on them. there was a lone party hat on the seat at the head of the table. 

you motioned to it, giggling.

satoru smirked. “do i have to?”

“it’s your birthday. you absolutely must.”

this was definitely a child’s hat–the rubber band snapped as soon as he got it around his chin. suppressing a giggle, he fiddled with it as he got it to stay in his hair. as soon as he did, the lights dimmed.

and there you were, walking to him with a cake in your hands, candles being covered by your hand to stop any breeze. you sang as you set the cake in front of him, putting your hands on his shoulders and gently kissing his cheek when you were done.

the frosting was uneven, the candles used before. “happy birthday” was written poorly across the top–it was all of his favorite flavors made by the one who knew and loved him best.

satoru had been to birthdays before, but it seems like he’s never attended his own.

“you have to make a wish before you–hm?”

before you could finish, you look at satoru. he’s looking down at the cake, a tear running down his cheek. he looks up at you, hand finding the side of your face to pull you into a kiss. he didn’t say anything about it, just kissed you and blew out his candles.

you let it go, smiling to yourself as you cut him a piece of the homemade cake. satoru kept the party hat, secretly. at least, he thinks it’s a secret. you ignore it whenever it rolls off the top shelf of the closet, carefully putting it back with anything else he’s looking to hide. 

satoru doesn’t know what’s tying him back to that party hat. it’s made of a flimsy cardboard, with the rubber band chin strap broken from the moment he tried to put it on. he still can’t bring himself to throw it out, though. so at the back of the closet it will stay.

the first moment, you weren’t awake for, the second, maybe you could excuse. the third and most incriminating was, again, at the beginning of the relationship. it was the first night you stayed at his apartment; before you moved in, before you called your relationship anything concrete or official. the two of you fumbled it along, figuring it out along the way. satoru took the move of inviting you to stay and spend the night.

so you did. it didn’t take long for you two to make out on his couch, satoru eventually carrying you to the bedroom as you both fell out of your clothes. infatuation, maybe; something was keeping you both clawing at the other so desperately. it was your first time together.

you weren’t really sure how many partners satoru had before you, and frankly, you didn’t care. he treated you well, he respected your boundaries, and he checked in before he made any move further. honestly, he was a gentleman.

it took you by surprise when halfway through, he hovered over you and stopped his moans. you weren’t sure how long you two had been going, but satoru had both hands at the side of your face as you felt something hit your cheek. sweat, maybe?

no, tears. he was crying.

you reached your hand up, thumbing away the single tear from his pretty cheek.

“why are you crying?” 

“i-” he mumbled, “i don’t know,”

it’s okay, you thought. overwhelming hormones? sudden rush of dopamine? was he embarrassed? who knows. maybe you’ll ask another time.

you reached your hands around his neck to pull him down to your face, reaching up slightly to give him a soft kiss. a delicate one. he deserved to feel delicate, to feel loved.

and he did. that’s why he was crying. that’s why he cried during your first time together, cried on his birthday, and cried on a random thursday morning when he saw you in bed.

it’s unconscious. by the time he realizes what’s happening, there’s already a tear rolling down his cheek. but that’s all it takes for him to feel gratitude, warmth, and the realization that the love he’s always craved is closer than he could’ve imagined. 

all content © cinnamoneve 2024. do not repost, modify, steal, or copy without permission.

[cinnamoneve]

i miss you i hope you're all good 🤍

ohhh my sweet girl :( hello!!! ive missed you so dearly <3 i think i went on a lil hiatus when you came back from yours hehe--i was super busy with irl work stuff but i have written (gasp) and will be rolling out some posts~ how are you!!!! i hope youve been well :( <3

[cinnamoneve]

is this thing on

[pupkashi]

i think satoru would be so insanely cliche and giddy when the two of you start dating

he would buy you a bouquet of red roses and chocolate, sending you red hearts and changing your contact name to “sweetheart <3” or “my lover” his heart doing flips when he read you’d changed his contact name

angel boy <3, it read, he couldn’t stop smiling the rest of the night.

he would take you out to the movies and then for ice cream afterwards, he’d let you borrow his hoodies and blush when he saw how much larger they fit on you

he would write you love letters, telling you how much he liked you and how he was so happy with you, random doodles on the sides of the papers

anytime you’d leave sticky notes for him or write him a letter back he’d tuck it away in a chest in the back left corner of his closet, smiling anytime his eyes landed on the chest.

he’d walk you or drive you home all the time, sharing an earbud with you, having you on the inner part of the sidewalk and slipping his hand in yours, smiling bashfully when you intertwine your fingers with his

he would do everything in his power to make you happy, running out of your house for ice cream after you mentioned wanting it one (1) time

he is just such a hopeless romantic, chasing after the feeling of warmth and love that you gave him, the feeling of normality that you gave him.

satoru didn’t feel like the head of the clan or the strongest sorcerer in the world as you pulled him to watch the light show in the cold december air, or as you intwined your fingers with his while he walked you home.

a/n: hi hi friends !! something short and sweet since i didn’t have time to work on a longer one shot today , i hope yall still enjoy !!! lmk what u all think :3

masterlist

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @sat6ru @beautiful-is-boring @sweetheart-satoru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi

[cinnamoneve]

hmmmm might make a separate blog just for selfshipping aough.....

[dreamwinged]

i feel like this image rn

[6-ojos]

✰ gn!reader x gojo ✰ cw: gore/violence, implied suicide

satoru feels it coursing in his system. a tingling sensation, starting from the tips of his fingers, just underneath his fingernails. it travels all the way up his arm, up to the very arteries protruding from below the skin of his neck. the more he tenses with the pain that lights up every nerve in his body, the more that vein bulges; throbbing at the pulse point just below his jawline, painting the map of his skin a blueish-purple wherever it happened to be.

by this point, it was too late. satoru had been infected, completely caught off-guard by a zombie that snuck up on him— though it’s not like he had anyone left to alert him of its presence. it was a long time coming, if someone had asked him.

with his back turned, gnarled fingers had extended his way, the gurgling sound of its deadly moans reaching his ears far too late. just as he stumbled to pull his gun out of its holster, the creature grabbed a hold of him — digging rotten nails into his skin. it pierced, tore through the skin harshly enough to draw blood— blood that ran down his forearm in a thick, red cascade. it was the scratch of a beast, a monster in its right. even as satoru managed to shoot it point-blank, he stumbled backwards from the shock of it. he was a dead man before he’d even had the chance to defend himself.

as he lay on the ground, staring at the tear in his arm, the flesh throbbing and growing a mossy green around the edges— he thought of you. with a trembling hand, he rips off the chain around his neck; a necklace you’d once given to him, long ago. he puts the necklace in the palm of his hand and brings it up to his lips, kissing the metal one final time. letting his lips linger on it as long as he feels necessary. he thinks of the last time he got to kiss you.

satoru wraps the chain around the handle of his gun, and he finds his hands don’t tremble nearly as much anymore when he brings the barrel up to his temple— the warm metal of the chain comforts him, oddly. in his final moments, he thinks of you. he thinks of finally being granted the chance to be with you once more— so long as the heavens grant him such, the pleasure of spending the eternity of his afterlife in your arms... just as he promised you he would.

[cinnamoneve]

why is this the best wine ive ever had and its $3

[cinnamoneve]

ouuu i need to update so much about this blog

[cinnamoneve]

𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐚.

atelophobia \ əˌtɛləˈfəʊbɪə \ (n.) - the fear of imperfection of not being good enough.

❆ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: gojo satoru x gn!reader ❆ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: satoru's been valued only what he could offer others, until he met you. ❆ 𝐰𝐜: 1.3k ❆ 𝐚/𝐧: more of a self indulgent character study to get back into the swing of writing !!! pls enjoy <3 ❆ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none :3

satoru gojo held many roles and titles in his life. he was a son, a sorcerer, teacher, role model, a special grade, the honored one, the strongest. the strongest. whatever that was supposed to mean.

he knew what it meant, sure, but the lines were blurred a bit around the parameters of what exactly his role was. he was satoru, gojo-san, gojo-sensei, and whatever sweet term of endearment you thought up for him. between that, satoru’s identity and purpose got muddled as the titles and meaning were ever-changing.

he didn’t feel a certain way about any of it, really. or so he thought. the one accolade satoru couldn't claim was being totally indifferent.

you almost admired that aspect of him. how his nose scrunched up when something he eats tastes off, how he played with his blindfold when he needed to get something off his chest. or maybe, it was the way his eyebrow twitched ever-so-slightly if you pronounce a word in a funny way. there is no subtle, subdued, or nonchalant bone in your boyfriend’s body. everything on his mind was said before his mouth even opened.

because of that, you knew satoru was happy to be home by the way he refused to leave your side. it’s rare he gets a decent break like this; his students had a week-long retreat in kyoto that he’d meet them at eventually. for now, he had some small ends to tie up on the homefront that he was dragging out so he could stay a bit longer with you.

satoru sat on the edge of the empty bath, admiring you as you did your skincare at the vanity. if his legs weren’t long enough to touch the ground, you imagined he’d be swinging them back and forth as he gushed about his students.

“...and maki beat mai in a one-on-one. again.”

you rolled your eyes as you clipped hair away from your forehead, “even i could’ve predicted that.”

“i don’t know why those two always find each other if they’ve got such a grudge,” 

you patted your face dry.

“it must be a sister thing,” you chuckled.

“something like that, i guess,”

“you’re not upset you’re missing it?”

satoru studied you in silence as he let the question linger a bit more. part of him was. maybe more than just part of him. he let out a hum as he thought about it.

“not really,” he concluded, “i want to be here,”

you smiled at him through the mirror as you caught his eyes. 

“it’s okay to be both, babe. be as selfish as you want,”

was it really okay for him to be selfish? nobody had ever told him before that the choice was his. even if it always was.

satoru had spent a lot of time being what other people said he should be. unfortunately, most aspects of his personality and day-to-day life were not decided by him. maybe it was atonement for the way he acts. could it be his fault? is it punishment for the gift he didn’t ask for? it’d be rich to still call it a gift. it was more like a plague, or a curse. something he had to bear and live with, master and hone. 

it was admired, it was hated. it controlled him, he controlled it.

everything he was, fundamentally, came from what he could provide.

satoru didn’t realize how exhausting it was until you came along and shared the burden with him. silently, lovingly, and effortlessly. maybe he was a little selfish. was it selfish to miss his kids in kyoto while having the love of his life in front of him? or maybe it was selfish to relish in the time at home and drag it out for one more minute with you.

being in between is lonely. 

but the loneliness will pass, just like time always does anyway. and being lonely with you is still being with you in the first place.

satoru sank into the empty bath, letting his body fold as he lay across the width of it. he sighs heavily and smiles, closing his eyes. his drama was unsurprising–all you can do is shake your head and take his place on the edge of the bath.

he peers up at you.

“selfish, huh?” 

you place your hand on his knee, thumbing over where it bends as a way to soothe him.

“mhm, why not?”

satoru tilted his head back, just barely, looking up at the bathroom fan as he tried to think about what to say next.

“i’d like to stay like this for a bit longer,”

you smile warmly at him.

“in the bath? clothed like this?”

it wasn’t about the empty bath. or the clothes he was wearing. just like how it wasn’t about him learning about your skincare routine. it was never about the stories of his students, or the way you always checked in on megumi. nor was it about how you took all of his clothes when you were cold, knew how he liked his coffee in the morning, or the way he made sure the bed was nice and warm before you joined him there.

it was so much more in so much less. in his worst moments, he was in a warm bed with you, hearing you talk about your refreshingly mundane day as you drew a nonsensical pattern on his chest.

everything he was came from what he could provide, right? that’s how it always was.

what he inherited preceded his name, his personality, and everything nuanced about him. nearly everyone in his life cared more about his ability than anything else about him. he’s convinced people knew his technique more than they knew his favorite color. the music he liked. his favorite food. trivial things overshadowed by what he could provide. 

but the only thing he had to provide to you was love.

to you, who he was came from what he could provide. and that was pure, warm love.

he was matching pajamas, two cups of coffee waiting to be filled, two toothbrushes sitting together on the counter. he was the seat warmer that he always turned on for you when you rode in the passenger seat, along with the playlist he made with songs you listened to together.

it was refreshing. 

with you, he wasn’t satoru gojo. not the strongest, not gojo-sensei, not a special grade sorcerer. 

he was him. and it was always enough for you. 

satoru when you were doubled over from another lame joke he told, begging him to stop making you laugh so hard.

baby when he had a particularly hard day at work, holding onto your body on the couch like detaching from it would kill him.

sweetie when he was being ridiculous, dramatic, and over-the-top, watching a smile tug at your lips as he intentionally got on your nerves when you tried to hide it.

honey when you didn’t feel well, and he got to spoil you more than you’d ever let him before.

among a million other things. but never what you expected of him. 

most importantly, and his favorite, was when you called him love. is that what you really saw him as? it made him melt. the jujutsu world hardened him, but you turned a blind eye to that. it was enough to make him fall in love every day all over again.

what a privilege, he thought, to be so calloused and still love.

“yeah, in the bath like this,” he muttered.

you slid in next to him, folding your body too so the two of you were sitting in the cold, empty bath with your legs sticking out of the side.

“well, i’ll join you then, love”

there it was. he hummed contently. 

satoru felt like for a majority of his life, he felt like he had to search for his other half. seemingly, he was whole all along.

all content © cinnamoneve 2024. do not repost, modify, steal, or copy without permission.

[inkmooon]

<3

[dykemd]

that blue eyed man is not ur soulmate be serious