Lazy Hamsters

Just here for some good reads and lovely/epic pics :D Female - 27 African American

[c0unt3ssb4th0ry]

looking for the most in character gojo multichapter fanfics possible. I am tired of this fuckboy gen z dark romance book stuff😭 not trying to yuck anyones yum just my personal preference . Preferably where reader is also a sorcerer but I know that beggars cant be choosers

[winqlessdove]

JUST SATORU ! || Satoru Gojo x Reader

━ ACT 1: FIRST DAY, LET'S MEET ALL THE CLUB MEMBERS!

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

"What...the hell?"

Where am I? What is this?

You look forward, your heart racing and your brain full of questions. The world around you...is animated. It's a residential area; there's houses, trees, a road, the sun ─ but it's not real life. You then caught sight of your hand. It's animated. In fact, all of you is animated.

You press your palms against the sides of your head, throat growing dry.

"I don't feel real. What the fuck? Why don't I feel real?????? Where's...my skin." You drag your hands all over your face, trying desperately to find the feeling of real flesh. But you don't. You just feel...smooth, in the most unnatural, horrible way possible.

 "What is happening to me, what is this place??? Stop. stopstopstop. Oh gosh, please... anyone, make it sto-"

Before you can panic any further, a sudden upbeat track of music begins to play.

And then, you hear footsteps pattering behind you.

"Heyyyyy!!!! [nameeeeeeeee]!!!"

You whip your head around, seeing a boy running towards you. He looks...recognizable? 

He has two spiky buns, the rest of his hair falling into wispy bangs that covered his forehead. His most obvious feature, a straight black mark running vertically across the bridge of his nose.

You stare at him and observe his appearance, up until he makes his way right in front of you. He lets out heavy pants as he catches his breath.

"Ohhhh...I overslept again..." he began to stand up straight, eyebags prominent and etched onto his face. "But, I caught up to you."

You blinked a few times, eyes running up and down his figure multiple times.

He's...cute.

"Uhhh...you..sure did...."

The boy raised an eyebrow at your lack of words, seeing your face go a little red.

"You okay, [name]? You're acting like I'm a stranger." He pouts, leaning down to your face. "That's no way to treat a childhood friend, you know!"

Your face heats up at the proximity of your faces, your body instinctively backing up.

"Oh..uhm...sorry. I'm not...feeling well..."

You rubbed the nape of your neck, looking down at the floor. His expression softens.

"Well, if that's all...but I don't want you to go to school sick. Let me know in advance so I could....take care of you properly."

He trails off a little at the end, clearly realizing how that sounds. His cheeks flush.

"A-anyways...we should start walking."

He mumbles, grabbing ahold of your hand and beginning to walk. 

While you walk hand-in-hand with the mystery boy, you began to think. 

This is...probably a dream. Last thing I remember is...me at my computer, so I probably fell asleep there.

"By the way, [name], have you thought of which club you're going to be joining?" The guy's voice cuts through your thoughts.

"A club? I..." Since your belief of this being a dream was now fully cemented into your brain, you decided that you might as well play along. Besides, talking to such a hot boy didn't seem half-bad. "...haven't thought of one yet."

"Oh. You really need to, [name]. I'm worried that when you're in college, you still won't have any social skills."

...What's that supposed to mean?

"I...have social skills." you argued, even though you knew damn well that you had like 4 friends max.

"...when you talked to my younger brother a few days ago you couldn't even get a 'hello' out." he sighed. "Your happiness is super important to me, and I know you're happy now...but I'd die at the thought of you becoming a shut-in because you can't talk to people properly."

He pauses. "You trust me, right? Please, don't make me worried about you..."

You saw the pitiful look on his face as he spoke. There was so much genuine worry on his face for you that it was adorable. This guy seemed to really care for you...

"Alright alright, I'll look at some clubs if it makes you happy."

He smiled warmly at that.

"That makes me glad." He squeezed your hand a little. "Thank you, [name]."

You nodded. A boy holding your hand like this, being so worried about you, smiling at you with such emotion...it was addictive. When's the last time you've felt like this?

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

"Oh!"

You gasp in surprise as your vision fades to black. When you regain your sight, you're sat in a classroom. 

A cutscene? Didn't even know dreams could do that.

You think, looking down at your hands. You think back to what your "childhood friend" said about looking at some clubs. Yet, even in a dream, you still can't seem to grasp onto an ounce of motivation. What clubs even are there?

"[name]?"

The boy from earlier pops his head into the classroom, his face lighting up once his eyes land on you. He walks up to the side of your desk.

"Goodness, you really aren't feeling well. I thought I'd catch you walking while on the way to my club, but you're just in here spacing out."

"You don't have to 'catch' me if it'd make you late to your...club."

You fidgeted with your fingers, feeling a little guilty for making this poor boy worry.

"Uh..well, I thought you needed a little encouragement to finally join a club, so..."

"So?"

"...I told all the members of my club that I'd bring in a new member. And...Sukuna ended up making food for everyone."

He looked away, looking a little worried. He knew he should've told you, but he didn't know if you say yes or no if he asked. Besides, he just wanted what was best for you!!!

"Food?" You perked up, standing up from your chair which left the dark-haired a little surprised.

"Sure, we can go! Let's go now!"

Safe to say, he knows that if there's food involved ─ it invokes a positive response from you.

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

You follow the boy across the school and upstairs until eventually stopping at a classroom door. With enthusiasm, he opens the door.

"Everyone, I brought the new member."

You looked around the room, eyes widening in absolute delight.

"Ah, welcome to the Sweets and Creative Writing Club. It's nice to finally meet you." The sound of a male's calm voice fills your ears. Said male has a cool demeanor to him, with amethyst-colored eyes that draw in you. His hair is kept in a bun with a little strand hanging out in the front. "Choso says the sweetest things about you."

"So this is who you blabber on and on 'bout.." A deep, husky voice emits from behind you. You whip your head around just to be immediately intimidated by the appearance of this dude. He's absolutely huge, with tattoos inked into his skin and piercings decorating his ears and lips.

" [name]!! Oh, what a fun surprise!!!!"

Someone says to the right of you cheerfully. He has fluffy white hair and glittering, blazing blue eyes staring deep into your soul. He looks unreal, angelic in a way. The way he smiles at you like you're the only person in that room made your mind go a little blank.

All words escape you. Looking at all of them makes you realize something...

This club...

...is full of the incredibly cute boys that were in that dating sim!!!!!!

You can practically feel your heart exploding with pure joy. 

What a gift, to have a dream about such sexy boys and have them look at me and talk to me and breathe the same air as me─

"What are you lookin' at?" The muscular, tattooed boy barked, noticing how your gaze lingered on them. "If ya want to say something, then say it."

"Ah..m-my bad." This guy was hot as hell, but gosh he was a little scary. Not that you disliked that factor in a guy though.

"Sukuna..." The boy with the bun said.

"...mmph." The boy, whose name is apparently Sukuna, crossed his arms.

Oh my gosh his biceps are fucking huge.

"You can just ignore him when he gets all aggressive.." Choso whispers quietly into your ear, his breath dusting the shell of your ear.

"Anyway. This is Sukuna." he leans back. 

"And this is Suguru, the Vice President. And by far the most competent member."

Suguru chuckles, clearly a bit embarrassed by Choso's praise. "...everyone in the club is...competent."

"And it sounds like you already know Satoru, our President."

"Thatttttt's right!"

The albino says happily. "I'm so glad to see you again, [name]!"

He says while grinning sweetly.

Having this boy, who would be completely out of league in real life, smile at you feels so... "Uhh...nice to..s-see you again too, Satoru."

You don't notice the way he shivers when you say his name.

Choso puts a hand on your shoulder "Please, come sit. We made room for you at the table."

"I'll get the cookies." Sukuna speaks. "Since I know if I trust a certain president to do the job─" He turns to Satoru, glaring daggers at him. "─he'll probably eat them all."

The white-haired boy shrugged, sticking out his tongue playfully. 

"I'll make some tea." Suguru chimed in.

Sukuna and Suguru walk over to the cabinet, where they prepare the food and drinks.

Desks are pushed together in the center of the classroom to form a table. Additionally, one desk is put between Choso and Satoru (which makes you do jumping jacks in your head).

Sukuna marches over to the table, a tray in hand. He then tears off the foil on top to reveal delicious looking chocolate chip looks!

"Woooaahhhh!!!"

The two boys in between you exclaim. Satoru, who seems to have a sweet tooth, hurries to grab one. Then Choso, and then you.

"Sukuna, it's delicious!!!!" The President chirps, who has his mouth full.

You turn and eye the cookie, trying to find which part has the perfect ratio of chocolate chips and cookie dough. Sukuna stays silent as he looks at you, waiting for your reaction.

You finally bite down, letting out a pleased sigh as you chew. "'s so good...thank you, Sukuna.."

"Why are you thanking me, it's not like I...made them specifically for you." He narrowed his eyes, turning his head away. 

Oh, he's one of those.

Shortly after, Suguru comes to the table with a tea set. He places a cup full of purple tea down in front of each person.

"So, what made you consider this club, [name]?"

Satoru leans in, resting his cheek on his fist as he awaits your answer.

You wince at the question. You can't exactly answer with Choso making you come.

"Well, I just...like the atmosphere here.."

His expression didn't change, but you had a feeling that he knew you were kinda full of shit. "That's okay, you don't have to be embarrassed! I'll make sure you feel right at home, alright? It's my duty as the President after all."

"Speaking of being President, Satoru, weren't you the President of the student council last year?" Sukuna said.

"Yeah, I remember that too. Why'd you even quit in the first place?" Choso adds.

Satoru smiles, circling the rim of his cup with his index finger. 

"Honestly, it all felt kind of meaningless. Major clubs like the student council only care about politics and popularity, and it bored me to death. If I want to be the leader of a club, I want to make it fun and exciting. And if it encourages others to be fun and exciting too...then that's what matters most."

Your heart began to thumb loudly. Seeing guys get so passionate about things like that was always so attractive. "You're...a great President."

Now it was Satoru's turn to have his heart race. "Thank you.."

"[name], what kind of things do you like to write?" Suguru suddenly buds in, resulting in a very subtle twitch of the eye from Satoru.

What's up with all these questions I can't answer without sounding like a geek?

Considering that the only thing you willingly write about is fanfiction, you don't really have a good way of answering that.

"...oh, you know...stuff...i guess..haikus..?"

Sukuna suddenly perks up. His eyes sparkle in a way that makes it seem like he's about to say something, but he ends up staying quiet.

"Oh? Well, that gives me an idea!" Satoru stands up. "How about we go home and each of us write something of our own? Say...how 'bout our favorite dessert? And then tomorrow, we'll share them with each other!"

Suguru and Sukuna both shrink a little, letting out a sigh. Maybe they have embarrassing favorite desserts?

"I think it's a good idea." Choso smiles at you.

"It's only right that we give our new member something to look forward to next time we see each other! Right, [name]?" The President tilts his head.

"Uhh..h-hold on. I...never said..I'd join this club. You guys are really nice and wonderful and all..but..uhh."

You lose your train of thought almost immediately. All four of the boys stare at you with downcast eyes.

I can't even speak, I'm totally defenseless against them...they're just too cute. I can't think straight when they're all looking at me like this.

Well, if I have to write in exchange to stay afterschool everyday with these gorgeous boys...then it's 10000% worth it.

"but...I already know my choice, and...I'm going to join the Sweets & Creative Writing Club!"

All the boys' eyes begin to light up. Choso wraps his arms around you, clearly glad that you said yes.

"Well, that settles today's meeting!" Satoru exclaims. As the boys begin to converse with each other, he walks over to you and leans down.

"I'm especially excited to see your work, [name]." He giggled a little before pulling away, leaving you to basically melt into a puddle of yourself from how flustered that made you. Will you really be able to impress everyone?

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

As you walk home with Choso, (after he so nicely asked) your mind wanders back to the four boys from today.

Sukuna,

Suguru,

Choso,

And of course, Satoru.

All so interesting and so different from each other, yet they are able to bond over some club. It's adorable, really.

But it really is too bad that this is a dream. It was really fun to talk with them all. You secretly make a promise to yourself that when you wake up, you'll play the actual game...and you'll win the hearts of each one!

> _

        act 1. day 2 implemented successfully.

a/n: hi everyone!! sorry it took me a while to make this one! [name]'s perverse side is definitely coming out now! also i have to say that sukuna is a little ooc for this story since i want him to be more like natsuki but tsundere kuna is so cute i wanna shove my tongue down his throat!! thank you so much for all the likes i got on my previous posts! i cant express how happy i feel whenever i get a new follower or like!! also MIGHT post a one-shot soon, most likely a modern! sukuna one yayy!!

[cyllres]

Side Character | JJK x Reader

God is merciful.

Because not only did you get the full reincarnation package—new life, new body, and parents who love you deeply—you were also dropped into a world that seems….fine. Suspiciously fine. No demon kings. No collapsing empires. No ominous prophecies whispered at birth. No magic….no foreshadowing?

Well.

Except for one thing.

You were reincarnated as a Filipino.

But hey, you’re rich. Your parents are rich—not corrupt politician rich like Sarah fucking Di*saya, but rich because your mommy and daddy who's mommies’ and daddies’ mommy and daddy worked grinded to ensure they’d leave a thick wealth for the next 10 generations (who tf wrote this? Basically you have great grandparents that worked their ass off). Also your mom adores you, your dad is present and emotionally available and both of them are far too cautious for another kid.

So you're an only child with generational wealth and zero pressure to “be the chosen one.” On top of that, you kept your memories from your past life, which means you’re technically smarter now. Not genius smart—but smart enough to recognize narrative patterns and red flags. Smart enough not to STRUGGLE in school.

And smart enough to be deeply, profoundly afraid.

Because you’ve read enough novels, watched enough anime, and consumed enough trashy isekai media to know one thing for certain: no author lets happiness last forever. Somewhere out there is a sick, sleep-deprived writer just itching to ruin your life for character development.

So you stay cautious. You enjoy the good days carefully, like they’re borrowed time. You watch your parents closely to ensure there is no tragic accident, the sudden illness, the “this will shape you into the protagonist” moment.

THANKFULLY nothing happens.

Years pass. Life remains warm. Normal. Almost boring. Boring is nice, it's good, it's safe.

Until your parents announce they’re moving to Japan.

That’s when you panic.

Because everyone knows that all “organic encounters,” all destiny-altering coincidences, and all “for-the-plot"” events only ever happen in Japan. Transfer students. Chance meetings at train stations. Being in the wrong alley at the wrong time. Parents dying to kickstart a villain or protagonist arc.

You try to stop them. You really do. You argue. You plead. You cite extremely questionable statistics based entirely on your logic.

They think you’re being dramatic—and cute.

They move anyway.

So now you’re here, in Japan, bracing for impact—convinced this is where everything ends. Or begins. Or gets horribly worse.

But maybe—maybe—you can cheat the system.

Maybe if you keep your head down.

Maybe if you stay quiet.

Maybe if you refuse to stand out.

You can survive as a side character.

A background extra in a perfectly vanilla shoujo anime.

No tragic backstory. No divine trials. No existential suffering beyond the usual.

Nothing more.

Nothing else.

Right?

a/n: This story contains mentions of Catholicism, the yn being Filipino for purely comedic purposes (it doesn't matter in later chapters), a lot of low-key offensive/dark jokes, depression, insecurities, irrational fear, the whole fic is mostly written in y/n's POV and mentions of suicide. But I swear on everything holy, this is a crack fic. Probably. And as always, yn would be as blank as possible aside from her personality.

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[dekusdante]

Pure gold!!

[myselkie-deactivated20260316]

Suguru Geto x gn!reader II Suguru making it his mission to make kissing the worst experience ever - sfw, crack

People can’t seem to come to terms as to why Suguru is so chummy with Satoru. It just doesn’t make sense. 

Smooth-talking Suguru, who entraps people with his silken tongue and otherworldly beauty, as opposed to how Satoru literally ropes new ‘best friends’ in with a strong-armed side hug. His purple eyes sparkle, while Satoru’s blues blind. Suguru traps. Satoru pounces. 

So yeah, it’s a real head-stratcher – their friendship. 

You are one of the unfortunate people who know exactly why they gel so well. 

“Here I come babe, pucker up!” And you can all but shrink away from his increasingly tightening grip on your waist, and his rapidly approaching puckered lips (oftentimes accompanied with disgusting, smacking noises, because Suguru knows how to really turn it up). 

Kissing you became a sadistic pastime Suguru Geto relished in. Kissing him became a herculean testament of your love for him, because some days, it felt like he wanted you to fall out of love instead. 

“Our lips…are ready to rumble.” And his eyes light up at your panic-stricken irises. 

Whispered against your lips, as he leans in. “My first kiss that isn’t my mum!”

And when you’re the one who finally leans in:

“Teehee! You likeee me. Gross!” Yes, he does the little finger pointing thing to the heavens. Giggles like a pre-schooler who just discovered what cooties are. 

And after the kiss? He’ll pull back, nodding thoughtfully like he’s impressed with your mental fortitude. 

“That was fantastic, our lips really mesh together! Let’s bring our connection to the next level.”

He pulls out his phone.

“Add me on LinkedIn – Suguru Geto! That’s S-U-G—”

That’s it. 

He’s banned from seeing Gojo. 

© 2025 myselkie

[hanamelia]

Hello, considering how @sugurusbeloved reacted to my attempt of trying to dissolve the situation peacefully by DM and they end up BLOCKING ME.

I decided that I’ll come out with every evidence that they almost plagiarized my work on J.ai and posted it on Tumblr thinking they could get away with it before they could delete the post and takes no accountability.

Update: They deleted the post…lol.

Here’s the link to read what we talk about not on Tumblr, hurry before it gets deleted too. 😭

janitor is a platform for creators building immersive worlds and readers seeking living stories, we are where human creativity meets ai magi

I know that this is a heavy topic and I didn’t wanna do this but please bear with me.

This is their fic posted on 7th September:

(Sorry for the ass screenshot)

And this is my bot posted on April 30:

And here are the chats we had

This is a very hard pill to swallow for me because I LOVE this person’s bot on Janitor. To think that they would take my bot into a fic and posted it here. WITHOUT A SINGLE MENTION OF ME. As you can see in the chat, they denied the heavy inspo they took but the fic is almost word to word.

The physical touch mentioned to build up Satoru as a clingy fake gay bestie, why did it had to be kissing user/reader’s cheek?

The “Shower together to save water” comment is also there.

Plus the walking past a man part.

And this is what happened this morning.

Please, everyone. Do NOT condone this behavior!! If I knew I could turn my Fake Gay Satoru bot into a Tumblr fic and I’d get attention, I would’ve done it LONG AGO.

I do not claim that I am the only one who could write about fake gay Satoru, BUT LOOK AT THE FIC AND MY BOT AND TELL ME IT’S NOT ALMOST IDENTICAL.

I am crashing out, yes. I am jealous, yes. I admit it.

If I knew the first message I did for my bot is almost good enough to be a fic, just that I add something more and it will get 3k hearts. I will do it.

If you’re a writer and you still don’t empathize with me. I hope you get this done to you and no one cares just like me.

This is probably @sugurusbeloved J.ai profile. https://janitorai.com/profiles/018cbcbb-75ad-43cd-a598-5d794ec1900c_profile-of-my-dear-monika

I didn’t wanna debut on Tumblr this way because I want to be a fic writer someday but eh…

Here is my Janitor if you want to support me…

https://janitorai.com/profiles/b3490ed8-f96d-446d-9bc1-49603a75494d_profile-of-himmelia

And I might start making fics on Tumblr forward, just follow this @hanamelia if you’re interested. Thank you so much.

Edit:

I should mention that I got the idea of the original bot from this Thailand’s equivalent of Reddit post

https://m.pantip.com/topic/42899774?

[mifanshui]

*me looking for something something to read*

*sees inc3s/t fics*

Before some of y’all defend it! I don’t even read this shit. YES, I see the damn warnings 🧍🏻‍♀️ but seeing fics like these going around the internet is disappointing and disgusting. Like I genuinely don’t understand how some of y’all writers write taboos like this + readers who encourages and reads it. It doesn’t matter if it’s fictional, what’s worse is that you insert yourself in this scenario.

I want to say yall should be ashamed and go get help ASAP!! but y’all are GROWN and probably too stubborn to even understand the problem so I’ll hold y’all accountable for that. I genuinely can’t believe I’m breathing the same air as y’all who fetishized and fantasies things like this.

*sorry for the random tags I just want to spread my words*

[ange1archive]

people need to stop tagging their ‘x oc stories‘ as ‘x reader‘. it’s so ANNOYING bc I am searching for ‘x reader‘ and all I get is the „reader“ having a first name and blonde hair with blue eyes. like I don’t want to read that shit. just fucking tag your oc stories as ‘x oc‘.

and don’t get me startet on them just tagging random characters that aren’t even mentioned in the fanfic. When I search up fics for a specific character I do NOT want to find fics of a different character. just let me read that ‘character x reader‘ and leave me alone

LEARN TO USE TAGS CORRECTLY. IT’S NOT THAT FUCKING HARD

[radbirdtheorist]

BRU PLZ STOP TAGGING Y'ALL FICS WRONG, I DON'T WANT TO READ A OC X READER,

I WANT MY F*CKING X READER

[elvinapandra]

POV : you have been scrolling for the past hour and all you see is SMUT

Please...life is lot more than fucking🙏🏻

[kruegerbourg]

i love when i read a xreader fic and the reader is not described as an "outstanding beauty", doesn't have a prestigious work , not good at everything and basically the most common person like yeah that's me!!!

[caffine-exe-deactivated20250828]

ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴍᴇɴ, ʟᴏᴛꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ

mini!satoru x f!reader x mini!suguru

summary: Satoru and Suguru, the two strongest sorcerers alive now bite-sized. After a run-in with a cursed spirit gone wrong, your boyfriends are no taller than your middle finger, and now you’re the one stuck taking care of them.

content tags: sfw, crack treated seriously, comedy, fluff, romance, established relationship, mini!satoru, mini!suguru, tiny boyfriend shenanigans, possessive tiny men, protective tiny men, helplessly in love, gojo is an idiot, idiots in love, no use of y/n, domestic fluff, tooth rotting fluff, wholesomeness, no angst, happy ending

w/c: 8.3k | x-posted on ao3 | main masterlist

a/n: i was inspired to write this after seeing this fanart and fell in love. I CANNOT UNHEAR THEIR CHIMPUNK VOICES. I MIGHT MIGHT MIGHT TTTT do a whole mini satosugu x reader series with a whole plot and everything if it gets enough engagement

You’re only ten steps away from your apartment building when you hear two tiny, high-pitched voices shrieking over the city din. You freeze in your tracks, heart skipping. Did someone just yell out your name?

Spinning around, your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you scan the quiet evening street behind you. Nothing. Other than a cat tiptoeing along a fence and a few parked cars gleaming under streetlights, there street is empty. No people.

You shake your head. Maybe you imagined it?

You’re about to turn back–

“Down here!”

Your head snaps downward, eyes wide when you see something moves near your feet. Two very small somethings, each no taller than your middle finger. They wave their arms frantically to get your attention.

Your brain stutters. Those small figures… one with spiky white hair and a little black blindfold pushed up on his forehead, wearing what looks like a shrunken version of a Jujutsu High uniform. The other has dark hair pulled into a half-up topknot, his tiny face set in a mix of hope and irritation.

“Satoru? Suguru?” You blink, incredulous.

Relief floods the little faces upturned toward you.

“Finally!” Your boyfriend Satoru, squeaks.

He plants his hands on his hips, trying for his usual confident stance, though at his new size it only makes your heart lurch with a strange mix of adoration and disbelief.

“We’ve been yelling our adorable little lungs out for ages!” He complains in a voice so high and squeaky it’s like he’d inhaled a balloon full of helium.

Beside him, tiny Suguru pinches the bridge of his nose, which on his tiny face makes you want to coo at how adorable the gesture looks.

“We only shrank a few minutes ago, Satoru.” He mutters, his voice also comically high though a bit calmer than Satoru’s. He looks up at you with a small frown. “We had to run to catch up. You walk fast.”

You drop into a crouch on the sidewalk, your purse sliding off your shoulder and landing with a thud beside you.

“Oh my god… You’re so… small.” You mumble.

Satoru crosses his arms, tilting his head up at you. Even at a few inches tall, he somehow manages to pull off his cocky smirk. “Yeah, no kidding. Thanks to that curse.” He huffs.

Suguru shoots Satoru a sharp look. “Well maybe if someone hadn’t insisted on toying with it instead of finishing it off immediately–”

Satoru whirls toward him. “Excuse me? I did finish it off! It just got a lucky shot in first.” He retorts, voice cracking even squeakier.

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you. The two of them arguing like this, in chipmunk voices, looking like action figures come to life, it’s just so ridiculously funny. You press a hand over your mouth, and take a deep breath to try and regain some composure.

You need to get them out of sight before someone else comes along.

“We should get you off the street. Let’s go inside.” You say, extending your palms out to them. “Can I pick you up?”

They exchange a glance, then Satoru gives a dramatic sigh. “As long as you don’t drop us.” he teases, stepping onto your right palm without fear.

His tiny shoes barely dent your skin, like holding a leaf. Suguru steps onto your left palm more cautiously, steadying himself by holding onto your thumb. His touch almost tickles you like a feather.

For a brief moment, your heart squeezes at how vulnerable they both look.

Slowly, you rise from your crouch, cupping your hands around them protectively, the strap of your bag hanging from your elbow now. They’re so small that you could curl your fingers entirely around each of them and enclose them completely.

Not like you would even try to do that of course. The thought of accidentally squishing them makes you queasy. Instead, you keep your hands curled slightly, close to your chest as you hurry toward your apartment entrance.

“Wow, this view is wild.” Satoru chirps from your right palm, peering over your fingers at the looming front door of your building as you approach. “Everything’s so big.”

You fumble with the lobby door and slip inside without jostling them too much. Luckily, it’s late enough that no neighbours are around. You head straight for the elevator. Inside the lift, you finally take a proper look at the two miniature men cradled in your hands.

They look up at you with trusting expressions that mirror their normal personalities: Satoru’s blue eye (only one is visible now, because his blindfold is half pushed over his forehead) sparkles with mischief even in this situation, while Suguru’s dark eyes are steady, concerned for you even though he’s the one in a dangerous state.

“Boys…” You sigh, shaking your head in amazement. “How on earth did this even happen?”

The elevator dings and the doors slide open on your floor.

You step out and head for your apartment while Satoru launches into an explanation. “So, there we were, heading back from that exorcism job downtown–”

“We exorcised the cursed spirit, no problem.” Suguru interjects from your left hand.

“Yeah, but after we exorcised it,” Satoru continues pointedly, “turns out the curse had one last trick up its nasty sleeve. Some kind of cursed technique that didn’t die with it. Next thing we know, poof! We’re bite-size.” He huffs dramatically, personally offended.

Suguru nods, frowning. “It must have been a failsafe. A curse that triggers upon exorcism to shrink the threat that defeated it. I’ve… never heard of one like that before.”

You gently nudge your apartment door open with your hip. “Me neither.” Being someone who is deeply familiar with the jujutsu world thanks to them, you know this is a unique situation. “You’re both okay though, right? Not hurt?”

Satoru waves a tiny hand dismissively. “We’re fine, just smaller. My cursed technique still works. I’m still the strongest.” He flashes a grin that in normal circumstances would be blinding, but at this scale it’s simply adorable.

Suguru adds, “We managed to avoid any real injury. Just had to watch out for being stepped on while we came to find you.” He shoots Satoru a sideways squint. “Someone insisted we walk all the way home on foot rather than call for help.”

Satoru throws his arms up, which makes him wobble in your palm, your hand automatically twitches, ready to catch him if he falls. “Our phones are useless now! I tried mine, but I don’t think the signal works for ant sized technology. And would you have believed us if we somehow called? Oh hi babe, we’re the size of an action figure, mind coming to scoop us up?”

He’s got a point. If you hadn’t seen them with your own eyes, you might’ve assumed any call like that was a weird prank.

You carry them into your living room and setting your hands down carefully on the coffee table. They both step off onto the table’s wooden surface. The two of them standing there make an oddly charming picture, a pair of tiny sorcerers in matching black uniforms, only a few inches high, looking up at you like that.

You sit on the floor so you’re more at eye level with them. Well, even so, they’re still a couple of centimetres below your line of sight. “Okay. So you’re stuck like this… for how long?”

Satoru shrugs, exchanging a glance with Suguru. “Not sure. The creepy thing cackled something about ‘three sunrises’ before it fizzled out. So maybe a few days?”

Suguru nods. “It could wear off on its own in 72 hours. Cursed transformations sometimes have a time limit.”

A few days. You exhale slowly, nodding. “Alright. A few days.” They’re safe. This is temporary. You can handle a few days of… of tiny boyfriend caretaking. Why not? Stranger things have happened in the jujutsu world, right?

Satoru gives you a pityingly sweet smile, as if you’re the one needing reassurance. “Hey, don’t worry. We’ll be back to our devastatingly handsome, full-sized selves before you know it.”

Suguru folds his arms, an amused glint in his eye. “Yeah, Satoru will try not to cause too much trouble.”

That comment earns a snort from you and a pointed look from Satoru to Suguru, as if the very suggestion that he would cause trouble is offensive. Suguru just smiles serenely.

You shake your head, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Trouble. Right.” You reach out and gently brush the pad of your index finger over the top of Satoru’s head, ruffling his miniature snow-white hair. He sputters at the sudden gesture, batting at your finger.

“Hey! This hair is a prized national treasure, you know. Handle with care.” He protests, but he’s grinning.

You chuckle, drawing back your hand. Then you look at both of them, taking in their tiny forms under the light. “So are you hungry? Thirsty? Do you need a… uh… place to rest?” You aren’t exactly sure how to accommodate two shrunken minis in an apartment built for normal-sized humans.

They glance at each other. Satoru plops down onto the table cross-legged. “I could eat.” He announces. Of course he could, Satoru’s appetite for snacks is insatiable at any size. “Got any sweets? Ooh, or those little gummies? Wait, everything is gonna be like jumbo-sized for us!” He lights up at the thought.

Suguru sighs, but he’s smiling softly. “Maybe something simple, please. I don’t think I could handle a crumb bigger than my head right now.” He rests a hand on his stomach for emphasis.

“Alright, I’ll see what we have.” You head to the kitchen, which is open-plan and within sight of the coffee table. Not to be overthinking, but the image of one accidentally toppling off the table’s edge flashes through your mind and makes you worry.

After a moment rifling through your cupboards, you set out an onigiri on a plate, pull out few gummy bears for Satoru, and fill a clean bottle cap with water. When you return to the living room, they’re in the same spot, though Satoru is now standing, his arm around Suguru’s shoulder while muttering something you can’t hear. Suguru swats him away, rolling his eyes.

You set down their food and tiny water bowl in front of them. Satoru immediately goes for the gummy piece, lifting it up with both arms like it’s a heavy sack. You bite your lip, holding back laughter as he dramatically topples onto his back under its weight.

“It’s heavy!” He complains, legs kicking in the air.

Suguru, grinning, steps over and breaks off two smaller bits of the corner of the onigiri for both the of them. Then he helps Satoru push the bear off, before the latter sits up and dusts off his uniform. “I had that, you know.” he insists.

“Of course.” Suguru replies mildly.

They nibble on the rice ball while you take the chance to text your supervisor at Jujutsu High that an “incident” has come up and you’ll be working from home for a couple days. You’d rather not explain why.

Later that night, you all settle in.

It takes some ingenuity and a lot of protesting from Satoru, but eventually you convince them to sleep in a cushioned little nest you created in a shoebox. You lined it with soft socks and cotton pads, fashioning a cozy bed, which if you were being honest, doesn’t look so bad. You even cut a piece off a clean sock to make a blanket.

Suguru thanks you quietly for the effort, testing the makeshift mattress by pressing a tiny hand on it. Satoru, on the other hand, lounges against the edge of the shoebox with his arms behind his head.

“You know,” He says lightly, “we could just sleep with you. Just like, squeeze into your bra.” He waggles his brows.

Suguru’s cheeks tint a subtle pink. “Satoru.” He half-scolds, half-groans, but you doubt he’s not as equally interested in the idea.

Satoru just grins wider. “What? I miss full-size cuddle time. This is the next best thing.”

“I am not letting you two tiny idiots loose in my bed.” You declare, but you can’t help laughing. The mental image alone is ridiculous. “This is for your own safety. And my sanity.”

Satoru pouts dramatically, flopping onto his back in the sock-lined nest. “I mean, death by tit crushing is a dream, but fiiiine. If something comes and snatches us in the night because we were all alone in a shoebox, don’t blame me.”

Suguru actually laughs at that, a bright sound that makes your heart melt. “I think we’ll be alright, Satoru.”

You set the shoebox bed on your nightstand, close enough that you can hear them and they can see you. It seems to comfort them to be within sight of each other. Before turning off the lights, you lean down close to their little bed. “Good night, my handsome minis.” You whisper.

Satoru stretches his arms up, and you offer your index finger. He wraps his arms around it, hugging it to his chest and nuzzling his cheek against it. “Good night baby! Don’t let the bedbugs bite. If they do, wake me up, I’ll exorcise them.” He jokes.

Suguru, still chuckling, leans over and presses three tiny kisses to the pad of your finger. It’s such a small, soft sensation it barely registers, but the sweetness of it sends warmth blooming through your chest. “Good night, my love.” He says softly. “Thank you for taking care of us.”

Your throat tightens with affection. They both look up at you with such fondness in their miniature faces that your heart practically melts. You chuckle and whisper, “I love you.”

“I love you more~” Satoru sings back in a whisper. Suguru echoes him “I love you most.”

As you crawl into your own bed, you can’t help but peek one more time at the shoebox. Under the dim glow of a nightlight, you see Satoru scoot closer to Suguru, resting their foreheads against each other. It’s oddly one of the most adorable things you’ve ever witnessed.

Eventually, you turn off the lamp and settle into bed. It takes a while to fall asleep, but knowing your miniature boyfriends are safe beside you, you drift off.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Morning comes and you wake to the sound of giggling and the sensation of something tickling your face.

Squinting against the early sunlight, you find Satoru standing casually on your pillow, leaning over to poke your cheek. His blindfold is off entirely now, revealing those brilliant blue eyes, even at this size, they’re striking.

Suguru stands just behind him, one hand gripping the pillowcase for balance. Both of them are grinning.

“Morning, sleeping beauty.” Satoru chirps.

At some point he and Suguru must have climbed out of their shoebox bed, or maybe Satoru just pestered Suguru up. It’s a short distance for you, but for them it’s like scaling a mountain. The thought of them working together to clamber onto your pillow while you slept is equal parts adorable and concerning.

You rub your eyes, careful not to jostle the pillow. “What time is it?”

“Time for you to make us breakfast!” Satoru declares, flopping onto his stomach dramatically like a star. The motion makes him slide a bit down the slope of the pillow, and Suguru grabs the back of Satoru’s uniform just in time to stop him tumbling off the edge.

Suguru sighs. “It’s around 7. I didn’t want to wake you too early, but someone got bored.”

Satoru wriggles free of Suguru’s hold and sits up. “I was careful! And she was already waking up. Besides, I am hungry again.” He pats his tiny belly.

You can’t help but smile. Even miniaturised, they’re so them. You carefully slide your hand beside your pillow. “Taxi for two?” you offer. They both step onto your palm, and you lift them and set them on the nightstand while you get up.

A short while later, you’re in the kitchen with two little spectators on the counter. Making breakfast is a challenge: what constitutes a portion for someone three inches tall?

After some debate, you end up scramble two eggs for all three of you to share. They each get a spoonful of fluffy egg, which is plenty for them, plus one grape sliced up in half.

Satoru eyes the grape slices with suspicion. “No sweets?” He complains, to which Suguru reminds him that he had a whole three gummy bears for dessert last night and that’s enough sugar for now.

Breakfast goes smoothly enough, aside from Satoru getting a bit of egg on his face as he enthusiastically devours his portion. He insists on washing it off himself, pushing away the corner of a napkin you offer and instead scooping water from the bottle cap to splash his face.

It turns into him pretty much dumping water over his head, soaking his hair and the front of his uniform. He shakes his head like a wet puppy, spraying droplets. Suguru shields himself with a torn piece of paper towel and gives you a long-suffering look.

“I have two children.” You say to Suguru with a mock sigh, dabbing up the mess with a napkin.

Satoru sticks out his tongue at you, hair dripping. It’s hard to take him seriously when he looks like a half-drowned baby chick.

You wrap Satoru in a tissue and patting him gently until he’s mostly dry, despite his squeaky protests of “I’m not a pet, stop that!”

Once everyone’s cleaned up and dried, you start thinking about the day ahead. You have errands to run, groceries to buy, but can you really just leave them at home alone? The idea of them unsupervised has you hesitating. Who knows what trouble these two devils in disguise would get into, or what could happen while you’re away.

But taking them out in the big wide world… that has its own risks.

“We’re coming with you.” Suguru says firmly when you bring up the grocery trip. He’s sitting on the rim of an empty coffee mug you laid on its side for them to lounge on. “It’s safer if we stick together.”

“Yes! An outing! We promise to behave.” Satoru adds, all innocent smiles.

That expression might be more convincing if he wasn’t currently attempting to swing from the cord of the window blinds like a playground rope. You clear your throat and he immediately lets go, dropping onto the counter and landing in a crouch. “Totally will behave.” He repeats, nodding rapidly.

You narrow your eyes playfully. “If I take you with me, you have to stay hidden. And no using cursed techniques or causing a scene unless it’s an emergency, got it?”

They nod earnestly.

“Got it.” Satoru says, drawing an X over his heart.

Suguru places a hand over his chest. “We’ll be as discreet as two devils on your shoulders can be.”

His choice of phrase makes you laugh. “Devils on my shoulders… that sounds right.”

You have a feeling you’re in for some mischief whether you agree or not, so you relent. “Okay. But you both stay in my pocket.”

Not five minutes later, you step out of your apartment building with Satoru and Suguru nestled securely in the single pocket of your hoodie. They’d insisted on a hoodie with a long pocket.

“We need space.” Satoru argued, not wanting to share a pocket with Suguru’s elbow jabbing him, and vice versa. So now you have one tiny boyfriend standing on either end.

It’s early enough that the streets aren’t too crowded. You head for the nearby supermarket, occasionally feeling the slight weight and movement of the two in your pocket as they adjust or peek out. Suguru seems content to stay still, but predictably, Satoru can’t resist popping his head up every so often to commentate.

“Woah, that dog is huge!” He gasps at one point. You glance down to see him peering wide-eyed at a leashed great dane passing by, its owner unaware of the miniature man marvelling at their pet.

“Shh!” You gently nudge Satoru’s head back down with a finger. He laughs and disappears back into the pocket.

At the store, you grab a basket and begin browsing the aisles. Every so often, you feel a tiny tug from inside your jacket as Satoru shifts around.

“Are we there yet?” Comes his muffled quip.

“You realise I can hear you perfectly, right?” You mutter under your breath, pretending to examine a box of cereal.

“Just checking.” Satoru snickers. “It’s stuffy in here. Hey, go down that aisle! I smell sweets.”

You bite back a smile and murmur. “We’re not here to buy sweets.”

Yet, when you pass the snack aisle, you hesitate, eyeing a bag of mochi. Immediately, the little devils pounce on your hesitation.

“Ohh, those look soooo good.” Satoru practically sings, peeking over to look at the bag. “You know you want them. Life’s short! Eat the chips!”

Suguru nods sagely. “Why deny yourself? You’ve been so good lately. And we’ll even help you finish them.”

You laugh and resign, reaching over to grab the package. ““Fine, fine. Just stop making a scene, you little imps.” You roll your eyes. “Mochi and maybe some kikufuku.” You know Satoru’s favourites well.

There’s an excited whoop from the right side of your pocket and a triumphant “told you she’d cave” from the left. You shake your head with a grin, before you catch a passing shopper giving you an odd look since you look like you’re talking and laughing to yourself.

You cringe, giving them a tight-lipped, polite smile and move along, except you nearly bump into a stranger who steps into your path.

“Hey, excuse me.” The young man says, flashing what he probably thinks is a charming grin. “I don’t mean to bother, but I just had to say hi. You from around here? Maybe I could get your number?”

You inwardly sigh. This is not the time. You try to brush him in a friendly manner. “Oh, that’s kind of you, but I’m actually in a hurry and–”

Before you can finish, the right side of your pocket where Satoru is hiding, starts wiggling. A tiny yet furious voice squeaks out. “Hey, hey, hey! Back off, dude!”

The man blinks, looking around in confusion. “Uh… what was that?”

Your eyes widen. Oh no. “Huh? I–I didn’t hear anything.” You lie, trying to play it smooth.

But of course, Suguru peeks his little head out just enough for the guy to see a small moving figure, and barks in his small voice. “You heard him. Back. Off.”

Satoru, not to be outdone, pokes his head out too.

The man steps back in alarm, staring at the pocket where the tiny men’s heads are now visibly poking out. “What the–?!” His sentence drifts into stunned silence as he spots Satoru and Suguru, each glaring at him with comically tiny scowls.

Satoru clambers up a bit higher, propping his little hands on the edge of the pocket. “She’s taken, buddy! Move along!”

The poor stranger looks positively freaked out. His mouth opens and closes a couple of times in shock. “I… what… are those dolls…?”

“Dolls?!” Satoru’s indignant squeak could almost shatter glass.

“We’re her boyfriends, you idiot! Now beat it before you really piss us off!” Suguru raises a tiny fist.

That’s when you notice a faint crackle of blue energy. He’s actually summoning a smidge of cursed energy to make a point. A small crackling orb materialises into existence in Satoru’s palm. It’s meant to be his fearsome technique, but at this size it just looks like a tiny sparkler.

“Oh my god! What the hell–?!” The guy nearly trips over his own feet as he stumbles away, deciding that whatever this situation is, he wants no part of it. He power-walks out of the store without a backward glance.

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“Oh my god.” You mutter, ducking your head and quickly shuffling out of that aisle. Thankfully, the store is nearly empty this early, and no one else caught that little scene.

You glare down at your two troublemakers. “I told you no scenes!”

Satoru looks entirely unrepentant, crossing his arms. “He was trying to flirt with you. That’s an emergency!”

Suguru nods, though a touch more contrite. “Baby, you looked uncomfortable. How do you expect us to just sit back and watch?” His tiny hand pats your stomach through the jacket in a soothing gesture.

It’s hard to stay mad when they had good intentions.

You sigh, the annoyance bleeding away into reluctant amusement. “You two are impossible.”

They both chuckle at that, and you gently nudge them back down into hiding. You finish your shopping, staying clear of any more unexpected encounters.

By the time you return home, you are utterly spent from the constant vigilance required to keep those two in check.

You set the grocery bags down on the kitchen floor and release them from your pockets onto the counter. They hop out, stretching their limbs dramatically as if they’ve been cooped up for hours. It was forty minutes at most.

“Home sweet home!” Satoru hollers, flopping onto a loaf of bread like it’s a plush sofa.

Suguru steps aside just in time to avoid being knocked over by Satoru’s dive. He shakes his head. “Do you have to throw yourself onto everything?”

“It’s called joie de vivre, Suguru. Learn it.” Satoru retorts, making himself comfortable on the plastic-wrapped loaf.

You chuckle and begin unpacking groceries, placing items far to one side of the counter to keep a safe space for your tiny boyfriends. “You two must be worn out from all that, covert ops.”

“Protecting your honour was hard work.” Satoru agrees, grinning. He bounces back onto his feet with sudden energy. “Actually, I could use a snack after all that.”

Suguru gives a suffering sigh. “You just ate, Satoru.”

“Breakfast was ages ago! Pocket travel makes me hungry.”

“You’re as bad as a stray cat.” You tease Satoru. You pluck a single potato chip from a newly bought bag and give it to him. “Here, mighty protector. Enjoy your war spoils.”

He cheers and grabs the chip shard, biting into it with a loud crunch. You can’t help but smile at how pleased he looks. Meanwhile, Suguru politely nibbles on the edge of a sunflower seed you give him.

As the afternoon goes on, you find that “relative peace” still involves plenty of antics.

For one, you catch Satoru attempting to climb up the living room curtains “for exercise.”

He barely makes it halfway before his tiny grip slips and he begins to slide down. With a yelp, he ends up dangling precariously from a curtain tie. You rush over to pluck him off before he can fall. Dangling by the back of his uniform pinched between your fingers, he crosses his arms and pouts.

“I had it under control.” He claims, which earns a soft laugh from Suguru, who was somehow already perched on the curtain rod above, balancing with ease as he looks down at the two of you with an amused expression.

When evening rolls by, you decide to tackle the work emails you need to catch up on, so you set the boys up on your desk with strict instructions to stay put.

“We’ll be right here.” They promise, which obviously, holds true for maybe twenty minutes.

You’re typing away on your laptop when a tiny pale head pops up over the top of your keyboard. Satoru has crawled onto the desk and is now strolling across the keys like it’s a giant playground. His little feet tap across the keys, causing random letters to scatter across the email you were in the middle of typing.

You pinch the back of his clothes and lift him into the air. “Satoru, I can’t work if you’re stomping on the keyboard.” You delete the gibberish he input.

He wriggles his legs a little in your grip, giving you wide, watery blue eyes, the picture of innocent pleading. “I’m boooored.” He whines. “You’ve been staring at that screen forever. Pay attention to meee.” He draws out the last word like a little grumpy.

Suguru climbs up onto your notebook nearby, sitting cross-legged. “We could all use a break.” He suggests diplomatically, though you’re guessing he’s a bit bored too.

You sigh, glancing at the half-finished email. Maybe a short break won’t hurt. These two have been cooped up all day. “Fine. A ten minute break. What do you guys want to do?”

Satoru’s face lights up mischievously. “Open a new tab. I want to show you something.”

That gleam in his eye… you’re immediately suspicious. “What is it?”

“Trust me, you’ll love it.” He says, which does nothing to reassure you.

Still, you humour him and open a fresh browser tab. “Alright, what now?”

“Put me down, please.” Satoru says sweetly. You do, placing him in front of the keyboard. Suguru stands as well, curious but wary. Satoru points to the keyboard. “Now, behold my technological prowess!”

And just like that, Satoru breaks into a sprint, darting from key to key. He uses both feet and hands, hopping around to hit letters in sequence. Suguru gives a loud whistle and claps when Satoru somersaults to reach the enter key with a flourish. You press a hand over your mouth to hide a huge grin.

You watch as he types out “o-t-a-k-u h-o-t g-i-r-l” into the search bar.

The top result reads: “Megan Thee Stallion – Otaku Hot Girl (Lyrics)”.

“Click that!” Satoru says, bouncing on the spot with excitement.

You click, and a video pops up. Instantly, a rap beat plays from your laptop’s speakers. Satoru strikes a pose as the lyrics begin and starts to dance.

He busts out moves like he’s on a stage, although it’s more adorable now that he’s shrunk.

He shimmies his shoulders, pumps his fists, and bobs his head in perfect rhythm. Satoru slides to the center of the keyboard and uses it as his dance floor.

And then he sings along in a squeaky falsetto at the top of his lungs. “Ayy, can’t touch me like Gojo, look good in all my photos!”

On cue, he tips an imaginary pair of sunglasses down his nose and pointing at himself with his thumb when he says “Gojo.”

You can’t stop the burst into laughter that escapes you, nearly doubling over.

Suguru is laughing too, bracing his hands on his knees as he watches Satoru rap about himself with utter commitment.

Satoru doesn’t miss a beat. He moonwalks from the “S” key to the “K” key, then spins around. When “Gojo” comes up in the lyrics again, he tiny cartwheels across the number keys.

By the time the song is over, tears of laughter dampen the area under your eyes. Satoru finishes with a flourish, striking a final pose with both arms crossed over his puffed-out chest, but he’s panting from the exertion of his performance.

“How… was that?” He asks between breaths, slicking back his dishevelled hair with a self-satisfied grin.

You and Suguru share a glance and give an enthusiastic round of applause. “Encore! Encore!” You both cheer.

Satoru beams, clearly pleased with himself. “Thank you, thank you, my most beloved audience.” He squeaks, doing a dramatic bow. “Encore later, autographs after the show.”

You giggle, and let out a sigh as your laughter dies down. “Alright, superstar, break time over. I really need to finish my work.”

“Boooo, work.” Satoru groans, but he lets you gently scoop him up and move him aside so you can reach the laptop again.

“Tell you what.” You say, depositing Satoru next to Suguru by the notebook. “If you two let me finish without distractions, I’ll have some spare time to spend with you.”

“Deal.” Satoru chirrups, plopping down and bending his legs off the edge of a notebook. Suguru nods in agreement, settling beside him. They start chatting quietly, and you catch something about “duet career” and “world tour in a dollhouse,” which makes you smile and shake your head.

You don’t know how long it takes you, but when at last you finish the remaining emails, you close your laptop with a satisfied sigh. “All done.”

You look over to where the boys where sitting, only to see that Satoru has dozed off, sprawled on his back on top of a post-it note, using a bit of the folded paper as a blanket. Suguru is laying next to him, eyes half-closed, as if he was waiting for you.

You check the clock hung up on the wall. It’s late now. The lamp casts a soft glow over the scene of your two tiny lovers, and your heart just about melts. The day has clearly worn them out.

They’re so cute like this, you think, smiling. Your tiny men. Big personalities in little bodies, and a wave of affection and protectiveness washes over you.

As if sensing your gaze, Suguru opens his eyes and sits up. A tiny smile touches his lips. “Finished with work?”

“Finally, yes.” You whisper. “Sorry it took so long.”

He shakes his head. “It’s okay. We had fun earlier.” He looks toward Satoru’s sleeping form and adds, “Today was… actually enjoyable.”

You carefully lift Satoru, post-it and all, trying not to wake him. He mumbles something incoherent and snuggles onto his side, drawing his knees closer to his body. The sight nearly makes you squeal out loud. You transfer him into the shoebox bed on your nightstand. Suguru climbs onto your offered hand, and you set him down beside Satoru.

You lean down close to their little bed. Instinctively, you press a soft kiss to your fingertip and then gently tap it to Satoru’s tiny forehead, then Suguru’s who flushes and rubs the spot as if you’d booped him.

You smile. It’s getting hard to remember that these two miniature beings are the two most powerful sorcerers alive.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The following night comes by faster than you expected, and you’re starting to get irritated by the pile of clean laundry in your bedroom.

However, the moment you toss some clothes onto the bed to fold, you suddenly feel two small weights scrambling onto your shoulders.

Satoru and Suguru have shimmied up your body like two determined squirrels and now each of them is perched on one of your shoulders, dangling their legs and leaning in close to your ears.

“Whatcha doing?” Satoru chirps into your right ear, feigning innocence. Before you can answer, he continues in a conspiratorial whisper. “You don’t really want to fold laundry now, do you? Boooring. Wouldn’t you rather do something fun?”

On your left shoulder, Suguru chuckles. “You’ve been doing so much already.” He coos, voice honeyed and persuading. “You deserve a break. The laundry can wait.”

You recognise exactly what they’re up to, trying to get you to procrastinate. You fight back a smile and put on your best stern tone. “Nahh, I think I really need get this done–”

“Oooor,” Satoru drawls in your ear, stretching out on your shoulder like a lounging imp, “we could all cuddle up and watch a movie instead. Doesn’t that sound waaaay nicer?”

“We can crack open that bottle of wine you like.” Suguru adds enticingly. “And I can even press the play button with my amazing strength, you wouldn’t have to move a muscle.”

They both dissolve into snickers at that, clearly amusing themselves. Your resolve wavers. They make a very tempting case, and their tiny, chipmunk persuasive voices are undeniably cute.

But you also know if you give in to every whim, you’ll be buried in chores later. So you sigh dramatically. “Nice try, little devils.”

Before they can protest, you bring your hands up and flick each of them lightly off your shoulders with your fingertips, first Satoru, then Suguru. You don’t do it that hard, but they’re light enough to get sent flying and tumbling into the soft pile of clothes on the bed.

They go down with unified startled squeaks. Satoru’s is a shrill “waahhh!” while Suguru’s is more of a surprised “oof!” They disappear into the laundry heap.

You peer over to make sure they’re okay, unable to hide your grin. Satoru pops up from under a crumpled sweatshirt sleeve, his white hair mussed and his pride clearly wounded. He looks absolutely indignant.

“Did you just flick us?” He squeaks, as if he can’t believe you dared.

Suguru sits up, shaking off a sock that draped over his head. He doesn’t seem hurt either, just mildly disgruntled, though there’s a reluctant twitch at the corners of his mouth that suggests he almost found it funny.

You cross your arms. “You deserve it.”

Satoru climbs to his feet atop the mound of clothes, puffing out his chest like an angry sparrow.

“Oh oh, you’re so gonna get it now.” He declares, bristling with dramatic fury. “Nobody flicks Gojo Satoru and gets away with it!”

Suguru, recognising the tone, rolls his eyes. “Yeah? What’re you gonna do? Hollow purple her pillow?”

Satoru let’s out a gasp. “You know what? That’s exactly what I’m gonna do!”

He lifts up his tiny hand in a familiar gesture, the crackle of energy gathering between his palms is one you’d recognise anywhere.

“Satoru–”

“Cursed Technique: Hollow Purple!” Satoru shouts, thrusting his hand forward.

Normally, this move from him would create a devastating orb of annihilation.

But in his current state, a flash of purple light glows at the tip of his finger, the size of it no bigger than a marble ball. It floats forward with an almost pitiful slowness, leaving a shimmering trail before colliding with the pillow at the head of your bed.

Poof! The miniature Hollow Purple fizzles on impact, barely scorching the pillowcase and dissipating into a faint puff of smoke.

There’s a beat of silence, you could almost picture the sounds of crickets chirping awkwardly.

You, Suguru, and Satoru all stare at the pillow, which now bears a tiny blackened mark no larger than a coin.

Satoru’s jaw drops. “What?! What was that?!” He squeaks in dismay. Clearly he expected a much grander result.

Suguru presses a hand over his mouth, but you can see his shoulders shaking. A high-pitched sound escapes him, and soon he’s doubled over laughing. “Your… your almighty Hollow Purple!” He manages between squeaky giggles, pointing at the barely singed pillow.

Satoru turns bright red, or as red as his tiny face can manage.

“It’s not funny!” He whines, stomping a foot on the sweatshirt he stands on. “It’s supposed to be huge and impressive!”

A laugh bursts out of you too, both at Satoru’s affronted expression and the silliness of that small Purple attack.

“I mean, it was impressive.” You say, trying and failing to stifle your laughter. “Very… uh… cute.”

“Cute?!” Satoru looks positively scandalised. He flops onto his back on the clothes pile, throwing an arm over his eyes in despair. “This is the worst day of my life.”

Still chuckling, you reach over and gently scoop both of them out of the laundry and into your hands. Suguru is wiping mirthful tears from his eyes. Satoru pointedly refuses to look at either of you, clearly sulking.

“Aww, don’t sulk, my terrifying little sorcerer.” You coo at Satoru, lifting him and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, a blush rises on the tips of his ears, but he only pouts and turns his head away.

Suguru smiles up at you from your other palm. “It was a bit funny.” He says to Satoru, still grinning.

Satoru narrows his eyes at Suguru. “Keep laughing and next time I’ll aim it at you.”

Suguru just pats Satoru’s knee, reaching over easily since you’re holding them close together. “Glad to see your ego’s intact.”

You shake your head, thoroughly charmed by them. “Alright, you two. I liked the little movie date-night idea. I think we have some left over dango in the fridge.”

Satoru’s sulkiness melts almost instantly. He sits up. “Dango and a date-night? I suppose I can accept that apology.” He acts as if he’s doing you a big favour.

Suguru nods, looking agreeable. “That sounds nice.”

The matter’s settled.

You carry them onto the other end of the bed. You prop your laptop up on a stack of books on the bed and queue up a movie you know they both enjoy.

They make themselves comfortable on a pillow you’ve positioned in front of the screen. As the movie starts, both tiny men sprawl out on their stomachs, chins in hands, looking for all the world like two kids at a sleepover.

Satisfied that they’re settled, you head over to the kitchen to grab the dango. A few minutes later, you step back into the room and immediately pause. Something’s not right.

The tablet is still propped up on the bed, Suguru is sitting on the pillow alone, facepalming. And there’s a peculiar giggling coming from somewhere low to the floor.

You follow the sound, raising an eyebrow when you realise it’s coming from… your slipper near the bed.

Slowly, you approach the slipper.

“Where did Satoru go?” You say aloud.

A muffled snicker emerges from inside the fluffy slipper.

Suguru looks up from the pillow, shaking his head.

“I tried to stop him.” He calls over, his tiny voice weary but amused. “He said something about a ‘surprise welcome back from your journey to the kitchen’.”

You smile, playing along and pretending to be oblivious.

“But he’s so small. What if we lose him?” You continue dramatically.

The slipper erupts with squeaky laughter, and before you can react, Satoru springs out of it. Well, “spring” might be generous. It’s more of an energetic hop that sends the slipper tumbling and Satoru rolling onto the carpet at your feet. He’s laughing uncontrollably at his own prank.

“You should’ve seen your face!” He squeals, pointing up at you, tears of mirth in his eyes. “Priceless!”

You stand over him, holding back a laugh. “Hiding in my slipper? That’s low, even for you Satoru.”

Satoru lies on his back, still cackling. “It was perfect! I had you going for a second there, admit it.”

You crouch down and he allows you to pick him up then place him back on the bed, still giggling to himself. He seems to have gotten the pranking out of his system, at least for now.

After the movie, in which Satoru fell asleep to half-way, they’re already settled into their shoebox bed.

“It should wear off by tomorrow or the next day.” Suguru says quietly. He’s sitting down, resting against a folded sock pillow. “As fun as it’s been, I can’t wait to go back to being normal-sized again.”

You smile, reaching to brush a stray strand of hair from his face. “Me too. I miss your real hugs. And it’s been a workout keeping track of you both.”

Suguru actually looks a touch guilty at that. “Sorry. We didn’t mean to make it hard for you.”

“I know.” You curl your hand around the shoebox in lieu of a proper hug. “I’ve honestly loved taking care of you guys. Even if you drove me a little crazy.”

He chuckles softly. “We appreciate it.”

From the shoebox, Satoru lets out a tiny sleep-mumble: “M’ppreciate youuu…” Still half asleep, he wriggles closer to Suguru and nuzzles into his side, seeking warmth. Suguru’s expression softens in that way it only ever does for you and Satoru. He puts an arm around Satoru instinctively.

You can’t help but softly coo at them.

“Good night.” You whisper, reaching out to gently stroke Suguru’s back with your fingertip through the tiny t-shirt of his clothes.

Suguru tilts his head into your touch, like a content cat. “Good night.” he whispers back. “Thank you, and… sweet dreams.”

You’re feeling a mix of exhausted and a little sad that this chapter is coming to an end. As much as you want them back to normal, a part of you is going to miss having Little Satoru and Little Suguru to dote on and laugh with.

You sigh, switching off the lamp and climbing into bed, feeling their presence small and safe beside you.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You stir awake feeling strangely constricted and very warm.

Blinking groggily, you attempt to roll over, but something solid pins in place you on either side. Panic flashes through your sleepy mind, until a second later you recognise the familiar weight of a muscular arm draped over your waist.

With a gasp, you tilt your head up and find yourself nose-to-nose with Satoru. A full-sized, six-foot-three Satoru, eyes closed and breathing evenly in deep sleep. On your other side, practically sandwiching you, is Suguru, equally full-sized and peaceful in slumber.

Relief and joy surge through you. They’re back! And now you’re the one who feels tiny compared to their solid forms pressed against you.

You wiggle an arm free and gently brush a lock of snowy hair off Satoru’s forehead. He stirs, lashes fluttering. Those brilliant blue eyes blink open and take a moment to focus on your face. Then they go wide.

“Oh.” He croaks, his morning voice low and rough, and back to normal. A slow, dazzling grin spreads across his face. “Hi.”

“Hi.” you whisper, beaming.

He stretches the arm draped over you, flexing his fingers, then looks down at himself. “Did you see? I’m huge and gorgeous again.” With a gleeful laugh, he wraps both arms around you and rolls onto his back, pulling you on top of him in one swift motion. “And you’re tiny now!”

You yelp at the sudden movement, then burst into laughter as you find yourself sprawled on Satoru’s chest. “I’m not tiny, you meanie, I’m regular.” You protest.

He just laughs and plants a big kiss on your mouth. “Same difference. God, I missed this! I can kiss you without tasting your giant skin cells or whatever.”

“Eugh, I don’t need that description!” You swat at him playfully, both of you giggling uncontrollably.

A deep groan comes from beside you.

Suguru, woken by the commotion, props himself up on one elbow. His hair is loose and mussed from sleep, cascading around his shoulders. He blinks at the two of you for a moment, then a knowing smirk tugs at his lips. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

“Get over here, grumpy.” Satoru says.

In one fluid motion, still hugging you with one arm, he reaches out with the other, grabs a fistful of Suguru’s shirt and yanks him over. You squeal as you’re suddenly smushed between the two of them, Satoru’s strong arms locking both you and Suguru in a joyous embrace.

Suguru’s surprised protest is muffled somewhere above your left ear. He ends up half on top of you, face buried in Satoru’s shoulder.

“Satoru!” He begins, but then he just sighs and laughs quietly, giving in. One of his arms wraps around both you and Satoru in return, completing the hug. “God, I missed this.” He admits softly.

Satoru peppers kisses on the top of your head, then turns and smacks a big kiss against Suguru’s lips as well.

“Finally.” Satoru sighs with immense satisfaction. “I can hold both my beautiful girl and my handsome man properly again.”

He nudges Suguru’s forehead with his own. “I love you, you sap.” Then turns to lightly nuzzle his nose on your own.

Suguru’s expression softens. “I love you too.” He then turns to you and leans in to kiss you sweetly on the forehead. “And you.” He murmurs.

You blush under the warmth of both their gazes. “I love you both.” You reply, reaching up to caress Suguru’s cheek and then Satoru’s.

After a lazy few minutes tangled in bed, you make the mistake of trying to slip out from between them. Satoru’s arm tightens around your waist immediately, dragging you back against his chest.

“And just where do you think you’re going?”

“Breakfast.” you protest softly. “I was gonna make coffee–”

You cut yourself off when you notice Satoru and Suguru exchanging a glance. A silent conversation passes between them that usually means they’re plotting something.

You raise a suspicious eyebrow. “Okay, what’s that look about?”

Satoru rolls over so that he’s half on top of you like a very clingy human blanket. His hair is a wild halo against your cheek. “You’ve been running around after us for three days. It’s your turn to be taken care of.”

You blink, turning your head slightly. “But I was just gonna–”

“Nope.” Suguru interrupts, popping the ‘p’. “Denied. Blanket jail.” He shifts behind you, hand sliding along your hip to keep you in place. “You don’t move an inch today. We want to spoil you.”

You try to protest, but your voice comes out weaker than intended. “You don’t have to–”

Satoru leans back slightly to look at you, raising a brow. “We want to. We’ll do the laundry, and make breakfast, and even feed you ourselves.” He says, softer now. “So, stop fighting it.”

You pout at him, but way he brushes his knuckles across your cheek, like you’re the most precious thing in the world, makes your chest ache with affection. Behind you, Suguru kisses the curve of your shoulder.

“Okay, fine.” You sigh, unable to suppress your smile.

They grin.

You relax fully for the first time in days, melting back into the cocoon of limbs and blankets. Satoru tugs the covers higher, tucking them snug around the three of you, while Suguru draws lazy circles on your side beneath the sheets.

“Ghibli movie marathon?” Suguru mumbles against your skin.

Your eyes light up at the idea and you nod.

As the opening of the movie you settled on plays on your laptop, you gaze at Satoru and Suguru’s faces flanking yours. And as Satoru absentmindedly starts playing with your hair, and Suguru intertwines his fingers with yours under the blanket, you think that maybe tiny men or not, you wouldn’t trade them for anything.

end notes: *sighhhhhh* i love me a happy poly satosugu

[shelovesosa]

CTRL + ALT + LOVE

paring: Fictional!Satoru X F!Reader

art credits to scarlettismm on X!

sum!! After staying up late reading an emotional fanfic, a college student wakes to find the fictional love interest—Satoru Gojo—somehow real and lying beside her. Confused and out of place in the real world, Satoru begins to unravel. As they grow closer, they share laughter, secrets, and something deeper… even as time threatens to take him away. But sometimes, endings aren’t what they seem.

CW: MDNI, Romance,Contemporary Fantasy, Soft Sci-Fi, Magical Realism, Bittersweet, Angst with comfort, Temporary Love, Borrowed Time, Soft Smut, First Time Together, nerdjo cameo, soft dom, Memory Loss / Fading Reality Unexpected Second Chance. WC: 10.9k

It’s 1:41 a.m., your eyes are puffy, your nose is running, and you’ve just finished sobbing over a fictional man named Satoru who doesn’t even exist. And yet, somehow, he broke your heart like he did.

You’re curled up on your side in bed, blanket cocooned around you, the glow of your laptop screen still burning into your tired, emotional retinas. You knew what kind of fic it was going in—CEO AU, enemies-to-lovers, workplace drama. Classic. But nowhere in the tags did it say “character death.”

You sniffle loudly and scroll back to reread the last paragraph, as if torturing yourself again will somehow dull the pain.

“I should’ve said it sooner,” he whispered, blood soaking into the snow, eyes never leaving hers. “It was always you.”

The lights from the city faded behind him. And he didn’t blink again.

[End.]

You shut the laptop hard enough to rattle your desk.

“You’re kidding me,” you mutter out loud, nose stuffy and voice cracking. “You killed him? Seriously?! You made me sit through twenty chapters of slow-burn sexual tension, one shared bed trope, three almost-kisses and a forehead touch—just for this?”

You groan, throwing your arm over your face dramatically.

“God, I hate you, Satoru,” you whisper into your pillow. “I hate your stupid perfect face, and your ice-cold business demeanor, and your secretly soft heart, and the way you just died before you even got to live.”

You roll over, flinging a crumpled tissue at your desk.

You sniff, dragging your fingers cross the keyboard to angrily type into the comments.

You:

@shelovesosa HOW DARE YOU.
Fix it. Fix it right now or I’ll manifest this man into my bed myself.

“Stupid author,” you add bitterly. “Oh Sosa. May your coffee always be lukewarm and your favorite show get canceled on a cliffhanger.”

With a final sniff, you curl deeper into your sheets. Your brain is spinning in post-fanfic grief. You mumble one last thing, more out of sleep-deprived delirium than real intent:

“…I wish he were real.” You fall asleep with the ache of unfinished stories in your chest.

The morning comes too fast. You’re groggy, head foggy from too many dreams and too little sleep. Your alarm bleats somewhere in the background as you reach to turn it off.

Except your hand doesn’t land on your phone.

It lands on something warm. And solid. And breathing. You freeze. Your eyes fly open.

There’s a shape beside you in bed. A weight. The blankets are shifted, your mattress slightly dipped like someone else is laying there. Slowly, you turn your head.

And the world tilts. There’s a man in your bed. White hair. Pale skin. Shirtless. Lean muscle. His face is turned toward the window, but even from this angle— It’s him. Your heart lurches.

Satoru. Not cosplay. Not a dream. Not just similar. It’s Satoru, exactly as he was in the fanfic. Down to the small scar above his brow the author described in chapter six.

Your lips part, no sound coming out. You're frozen. Shaking.

He stirs. Brows knit. Eyes flutter. And slowly, his lashes lift. Blue eyes. He sees you. And everything happens at once.

He jolts upright, sheets sliding off his bare chest. You scream. He flinches.

“Wh—what the hell?!” he chokes, eyes wild. “Where—what is this?! Who are you?!”

You scramble back, nearly falling out of bed. “Me?! Who are YOU?! This is my room!”

He stares at you, chest heaving. “No. No, this isn’t… This isn’t right.”

He looks around, dazed. Confused. His voice is raspy, like it hurts to speak.

“I was in Tokyo,” he murmurs, more to himself than you. “It was snowing. I was bleeding. I was with—” He swallows, eyes darting toward you again. “Where is she?”

You blink. “Who?”

He stares. His voice breaks.

“…You’re not her.”

Something cold seeps into your spine. Because you know who he means. The her from the fanfic. The girl he loved before he died.

“But you’re not real,” you whisper. “You’re fictional. You died. I read it last night—I read your death—”

“I remember dying,” he snaps, voice shaking. “I felt it. I saw her crying. And then I woke up here.”

You both sit in stunned silence.

He presses a palm to his forehead. “This is a nightmare. I’m dreaming. Or— Or I was rewritten. Or this is some kind of punishment—”

You crawl slowly to the edge of the bed, still watching him like he might vanish.

“I think I summoned you,” you say weakly. “I cursed the author. As a joke. I said I wished you were real.”

He glares at you like you’re insane. But underneath it all—his trembling fingers, the way he keeps glancing around the room, the panic in his breathing—you see it:

He’s terrified. And it makes your heart hurt.

“…I want to go back,” he finally says.

Your throat tightens. “I don’t know how.”

He stares at you like it’s your fault. Maybe it is.

You clutch your sheets and whisper, “You’re not supposed to be here.”

His voice is flat.

“You’re not supposed to be her.”

You’ve never wanted to faint so badly in your life. He’s still sitting in your bed—your stupid college dorm twin XL bed—with your blush-pink blanket slung over his lap like that’s the most offensive part of all this.

His chest rises and falls in shallow breaths, and he’s still staring at the wall like it might open up and take him back to wherever he came from. Fiction. Paper. Imagination.

But now he's here. And he’s not pixelated or made of words. He’s real.

“I need to go back,” he mutters again. “She’s waiting.”

You chew your lip. “She’s not real.”

He flinches like you slapped him.

“I mean, she was real to you,” you add quickly. “But… she’s just words. I read her. She’s a reader-insert. She’s a blank space.”

“No,” he says, voice firm. “She was real. I loved her.”

You fall quiet. What are you supposed to say? Sorry, she was just me with better confidence and no student loans?

You sit down slowly on the edge of the bed. Satoru tenses, but doesn’t move.

“This is going to sound absolutely insane,” you start carefully, “but I think I pulled you out of your story. I was mad at the ending, I said I wished you were real, and then… this happened.”

He scoffs. “So I’m a pity project. Great.”

You frown. “No! You weren’t supposed to actually show up! I thought maybe I’d dream about you or something, not… wake up with you in my bed, very shirtless and very confused.”

You realize you’re staring at his chest. You immediately look away.

“This is a glitch,” he mutters. “Some kind of cruel rewrite. I shouldn’t be here.”

You glance at him. “Do you… remember everything?”

He nods. “Every scene. Every chapter. I remember dying.”

There’s a long pause.

“God,” you whisper. “That’s so messed up.”

He finally laughs—but it’s not a happy sound. It’s dry. Hollow. “Tell me about it.”

You rub your eyes. “Okay. Look. We have two problems.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Only two?”

“One,” you hold up a finger, “we don’t know how you got here. Two… you’re glitching.”

He stiffens. “What do you mean?”

“You were flickering,” you say, voice soft. “Just for a second. Like… your edges blurred. Like a dream.”

He doesn’t respond. His jaw clenches, like he felt it, too.

“…So I’m not stable.”

You say nothing. After a moment, he exhales and slumps back slightly.

“God, this is pathetic,” he mutters. “I was the most powerful man in the city. I could ruin a company with one phone call. I had private jets. Now I don’t even have pants.”

You try—try—not to laugh.

“I can get you pants,” you offer.

His eyes narrow. “Don’t pity me.”

“I’m not pitying you,” you lie. “I just don’t think walking around shirtless in a college dorm is going to help your situation.”

He mutters something under his breath but doesn’t argue.

You grab a pair of sweatpants from your drawer and toss them at him. “Bathroom’s down the hall. You’re gonna have to sneak.”

He catches them with ease and stands, still moving like he owns a twenty-story skyscraper. You try not to stare at his back as he walks to the door.

He turns the knob, then pauses.

“…What’s your name?” he asks, glancing back at you.

You blink. “Y/N.”

He stares for a beat.

Then says, quietly, “I don’t remember that being in the story.”

You smile a little. “That’s because I wasn’t in it.”

He hesitates. Then opens the door and vanishes into the hallway.

You spend the next fifteen minutes pacing your room like it’s about to burst into flames. There’s a fictional man in your dorm bathroom.

You summoned him. You broke something. Maybe the universe. Maybe yourself.

He’s glitching. You don’t know how long he has. And he’s desperate to get back to a girl who doesn’t exist. But for some reason, he’s still here. Still real. And you don’t know what that means yet.

You’re sitting on the edge of your twin bed, clutching a lukewarm cup of instant coffee and trying not to spiral. Because this is real.

It’s not a dream. Not some grief hallucination brought on by staying up too late reading slow-burn fanfiction and eating sour gummies. There’s no typo, no delete button, no author’s note to reverse what’s happened.

Satoru is here.

The fictional man you loved and mourned and cursed the night before is now somewhere in your dorm’s communal bathroom, wearing your ex’s old sweatpants and the expression of someone who’s been yanked out of death and dumped into a college campus like a tossed USB file.

You stare at the door until it creaks open.

He steps inside cautiously, drying his hands on the front of his hoodie. His white hair is still damp, falling slightly in his eyes. He looks softer like this, like less of the towering CEO you met through carefully crafted prose and more like a very lost man who’s trying not to shatter.

You clear your throat. “Everything okay?”

He looks at you, nods stiffly, then glances around the room again like he still can’t quite believe where he is.

“I counted six women brushing their teeth in one bathroom,” he says, sitting on the desk chair like it offends him. “One of them offered me dry shampoo. I don’t know what that is.”

You snort into your cup. “Welcome to dorm life.”

He doesn’t laugh. He just studies you with unreadable eyes. Sharp and searching. Like you’re an answer he doesn’t want to need.

“This place…” he murmurs, gesturing vaguely to your walls cluttered with sticky notes and fairy lights, “this isn’t… scripted.”

You raise a brow. “No. That’s kind of how real life works.”

He leans back, rubbing a hand over his mouth.

“You said I’m not supposed to exist here. So what does that mean? Am I… fading? Am I going to just—stop?”

Your throat tightens. You’ve been wondering the same thing.

“I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “But you’re still here now. That has to mean something.”

He exhales, head tilting back to stare at the ceiling.

You watch him in silence. His hands are resting on his thighs, long fingers twitching slightly like he’s resisting the urge to reach for something. A phone. A pen. Her. You put your coffee down.

“Look,” you say softly, “I know I’m not her. And I didn’t mean for this to happen. But until we figure out what’s going on, maybe you should just… stay.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Here?”

You nod, cheeks warming. “Just for now. You clearly have nowhere else to go. And I don’t think you're ready to navigate student housing or explain why you don’t have ID.”

Satoru stares at you like the concept of help is foreign. Which, based on the version of him you read about, it probably is.

Finally, he murmurs, “I don’t want your pity.”

“It’s not pity,” you say gently. “It’s a blanket and some time to breathe.”

He looks at you, expression unreadable. But he nods once.

You set up a sleeping bag on the floor that night. It’s the best you can offer in a room barely large enough to fit two people standing up. He lies stiffly on top of it, arms crossed, staring at the ceiling like sleep is a stranger.

You lie in bed, eyes open.bYou think about how he held the love of his life while he died. And now he’s here. Not holding anyone.

“Do you miss her?” you whisper.

He doesn’t answer right away. But when he does, his voice is soft.

“I think I miss the way she made me feel. Like I wasn’t just a weapon in a suit.”

You’re quiet.

He adds, a beat later, “But maybe that feeling wasn’t even mine. Maybe I only loved her because someone wrote me that way.”

You turn to look at him. But he’s already looking at you. Neither of you says anything after that.

You wake up to the smell of something burning. Your eyes shoot open, heart already sprinting.

You stumble out of bed, nearly tripping on the sleeping bag where Satoru isn’t anymore. You hear the clatter of pans, the groan of the microwave, and a very muffled, very confused “Why is this machine yelling at me?”

You rush into the kitchenette area down the hall, still barefoot, to find Satoru standing in front of the microwave, poking at the buttons like they insulted his mother.

“What are you doing?” you hiss, half-laughing, half-panicked.

He points at the microwave indignantly. “It said ‘popcorn’ but there were sparks! Sparks, Y/N!”

You grab the bag—oh god, the foil kind—and toss it in the trash before it sets off the building alarm.

He stares at you, wide-eyed, hair slightly messy, wearing your oversized hoodie and sweatpants like he’s a very lost, very pretty houseguest.

“Have you never used a microwave?”

“Why would I?” he asks, completely serious. “I had a private chef in Tokyo.”

You stare at him. He stares back. And then, maybe for the first time since he showed up… you both laugh.

Real laughter. Yours high-pitched and breathless, his deeper, more surprised. It crackles in the small space between you. And for just a second, he doesn't look like a man unraveling.

He looks like a boy. New. Unwritten.

Later, you’re sitting on the floor together, eating cereal straight from the box. His hair keeps falling in his eyes. You reach out without thinking and brush it back.

He freezes. So do you. His eyes meet yours. And for a second—just a second—there’s something like electricity in the air. Not sparks from microwaves. Not glitchy fiction magic.

Something real. You pull your hand back quickly. But he doesn’t stop looking at you.

“…I didn’t feel this way in the story,” he says quietly. “Not like this.”

You glance at him, heart thudding. “Feel what way?”

He doesn’t answer. But his knee brushes yours, and neither of you moves.

That night, he glitches. You're the first to notice. It’s small, at first. You're talking about breakfast cereal—how you mix Frosted Flakes and granola together like a heathen—and he tilts his head, eyes clouding slightly.

“I’ve never had cereal,” he says.

You blink.

“Yes, you did. This morning. You ate like half the box.”

He frowns. “No, I didn’t. We went to that place. With the… tiny pancakes.”

“…Satoru,” you say softly, “that was from Chapter 11. Of the fanfic. The Paris trip.”

His expression blanks. And then something in his face glitches. Like static behind his eyes. It only lasts a moment—but it’s long enough.

He exhales, hand pressed to his forehead. “It’s happening, isn’t it?”

You don’t know what to say.

He looks at you, voice quieter now. “I’m not built for this world. I’m already forgetting.”

You kneel in front of him, gently placing your hand on his. “Then we don’t waste time.”

His breath catches. You hold his hand like it’s the only thing anchoring him here. And maybe it is.

You don’t go to class the next day. You don’t even pretend to.

You tell yourself it’s because you’re “monitoring the anomaly” or “preserving the fabric of reality.” But really, it’s because Satoru wakes up on the floor with the most lost look on his face and whispers, “Where am I again?” and it breaks your heart clean in half.

You sit with him until he remembers. Your name. The coffee spill. The dorm microwave. He laughs about the popcorn again, a little shakier this time. But it still counts. After that, you don’t leave his side.

The two of you walk the campus late at night when no one’s around. He keeps staring at trees like they’re the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.

“I didn’t have these,” he murmurs. “Not like this. The ones in the fic were always perfectly sculpted. Background props.”

You smile softly. “These ones grow crooked. They drop leaves. Sometimes birds poop on you.”

He tilts his head. “I like them better.”

You take him to the library next. He walks the rows of books with reverent hands, trailing fingers across every spine like he’s scared they’ll vanish.

“I thought I knew words,” he says, voice low. “But this is different. These were made by people. Not an author playing God. Just… people.”

You nod. “People with lives. Mistakes. Ugly handwriting and messy endings.”

Satoru turns to you.

You don’t know what he sees in your face, but it’s enough to make him pause.

“You’re not what I expected,” he says.

You raise an eyebrow. “Expected from what? Fanfiction?”

He shakes his head. “No. From reality.”

You teach him how to use your phone. He FaceTimes the pizza place by accident and panics when someone picks up.

You try to explain memes, which leads to you both scrolling through TikToks on your bed for an hour straight. He becomes obsessed with cooking videos.

At one point, your head drops onto his shoulder. He doesn’t move. His breathing slows, steadies, like he’s memorizing the shape of you. Neither of you says anything about it.

You stay up one night talking. Really talking. You're lying side by side on your bed, not touching, but so close your arms are brushing.

“I used to think I was in love with her,” he says.

You stare at the ceiling. “The version of me from the story.”

He nods. “But she didn’t challenge me. She didn’t argue. She was soft in all the ways the author needed her to be.”

You don’t say anything. You’re not sure how to feel.

He turns his head to look at you. “You’re not soft.”

You blink. “Gee, thanks.”

“I don’t mean it like that,” he murmurs. “You’re… messy. Complicated. Real. You snore.”

You shove his arm lightly, and he grins.

But then his smile fades.

“I’m scared I won’t remember this,” he whispers.

You turn your head slowly. He’s staring at you like he’s memorizing you.

“I’m scared I’ll forget you.”

Your chest tightens.

You whisper, “Then I’ll remember for both of us.”

Something shifts in the space between you. Like gravity pulling tighter.

You don’t kiss. Not yet. But his hand inches closer to yours. And this time, when your fingers touch— You hold it tighter.

It starts small again. A pause mid-conversation.

A moment where Satoru tilts his head and says, “Remind me what this is again?” while pointing at something he’s already asked about twice.

You want to pretend it’s nothing. That he’s just distracted. But then you catch him standing by the window later that evening, staring out at the streetlight like it’s the only thing anchoring him.

“Do you remember this morning?” you ask quietly, stepping beside him.

He turns slowly. “…Was there cereal?”

You nod.

He gives you a sad smile. “I forgot the flavor.”

You don’t know what to say. So you walk over, wrap your arms around his torso, and press your cheek to his chest.

His breath catches. You feel his arms come up, slowly, hesitantly. Like he’s afraid he’ll crush you. Like if he holds you too tightly, he might disappear completely.

His chin rests on top of your head. His heartbeat is loud beneath your ear. Neither of you moves for a long time.

That night, he doesn’t want to sleep on the floor.

“I know I said I would,” he mutters, eyes flicking toward the sleeping bag. “But I just… I don’t want to feel far from you right now.”

You nod. You move over. He climbs in beside you. He stays on his side at first. Doesn’t touch you. But eventually, in the dark, his fingers find yours beneath the covers.

He holds your hand like it’s the last thread connecting him to the world. And maybe it is.

You dream of water. A soft tide pulling you away. Something fading. When you wake, he’s already looking at you. His hand is on your cheek. His thumb brushes just under your eye.

“I had a dream,” he whispers.

You hum sleepily, not opening your eyes. “What about?”

“I was back,” he says. “In the story. She was there. The office. The desk. The skyline.”

You open your eyes. He’s quiet for a long time.

Then: “But I didn’t feel anything.”

You turn to face him. “What do you mean?”

“I saw her. But she didn’t look like you. She looked like a blank space. Like a fill-in. She smiled at me, but it wasn’t you.”

He reaches for your face again.

“This world is loud. Messy. Exhausting. And I still want to stay in it.”

Your throat burns. “You might not get that choice.”

He leans in, forehead resting against yours.

“I know.”

Silence. Just your breath and his. Then he whispers:

“But if I’m going to vanish, I want to remember you.”

It’s quiet in the room. The kind of quiet that hangs between words never spoken. Between goodbyes that haven’t happened yet.

You lie beside him, breath soft, chest rising and falling in rhythm with his. His hand is still resting over yours beneath the blanket, fingers loosely entwined like a tether to reality. His thumb brushes gently along your knuckles.

“Satoru,” you whisper, your voice nearly lost in the hush of the room. “Are you okay?”

His eyes are already on you. He doesn’t answer for a long time. Then: “No.”

Your heart twists.

“I feel like I’m slipping,” he says, voice low, a little raw. “Like parts of me are coming undone. I try to remember the story, the office, the people... it’s all fog. But you—” His hand tightens around yours. “You’re the only thing I still feel.”

You swallow, throat thick. “Then hold on to me.”

His gaze drops to your lips.

“Can I?” he whispers. “Really hold you? Just once. Before I forget?”

You nod. The moment stretches. And then he leans in.

The kiss is slow. Uncertain at first, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish too. But when you sigh against his mouth, it deepens—his hand sliding to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, tilting your head so he can kiss you fully. Thoroughly.

He kisses you like he wants to taste your memory. Like he’s carving the shape of you into whatever part of him still exists beyond the glitch.

You shift closer, and his hand slips beneath your shirt, splaying across your waist. His palm is warm. Steady. You shiver at the contact.

“Tell me what you want,” you whisper.

He pulls back just enough to look at you.

“You,” he says. “Slow. Real. I want to make it count.”

You sit up slightly, letting him pull your shirt over your head. His eyes trail over you, and something in them breaks. Reverence. Hunger. Grief.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes. “I can’t believe I almost didn’t get to see you like this.”

You press your hands to his chest, feeling his heartbeat thudding beneath your palm. His hoodie comes off next, followed by his shirt, and you press your lips to his skin—his collarbone, his sternum, the small scar just under his ribs like the one described in the story. But it’s different seeing it here. Seeing him here. Alive. Real. Yours, even if only for tonight.

He lies back and pulls you with him, hands exploring your body like you’re something precious—trailing down your sides, across your back, fingers gripping your thighs with quiet desperation.

When you grind against him slowly, feeling the thick press of him through his boxers, his breath catches hard in your ear.

“You’re killing me,” he murmurs, lips brushing your jaw. “You’re so soft—so warm—I didn’t know this part of the world could feel so… good.”

You roll your hips again, and he groans deep in his throat, hands locking tight on your waist.

“Need to feel you,” he whispers. “All of you.”

You shift your weight and reach down, guiding him free from his boxers, his cock hard and hot in your palm. His breath hitches as your fingers wrap around him gently, stroking once—slow and curious.

His voice is ragged. “Please.”

You press a kiss to his lips, then rise just enough to line yourself up.

And when you sink down onto him, he gasps—eyes fluttering shut, head falling back against the pillow.

“Oh god—”

You’re both breathing heavy now.

You pause, adjusting to the stretch of him, the tightness between you. His hands slide up your thighs, then settle at your hips, holding you still as he tries not to lose control too soon.

“You feel… perfect,” he chokes. “Better than anything I’ve ever known.”

You begin to move, slow and careful, your bodies rocking together in a rhythm that feels older than either of you. His hands roam—palming your breasts, sliding up your spine, gripping your hips as you roll against him with aching tenderness.

“Satoru,” you whisper, leaning over him, your forehead pressed to his.

He opens his eyes. And in them—desperation. Need. Love.

“I don’t want to forget this,” he says again, voice breaking.

“Then remember me like this,” you whisper. “Remember the way I feel. The way I look at you. The way you make me feel so full, like I was meant to hold you.”

He groans at your words, thrusting up into you with more force. You gasp, clinging to his shoulders, meeting him with matching urgency.

It builds between you—need turning sharp, trembling, sacred.

You come first—tightening around him, breath catching as you moan his name through clenched teeth, nails digging into his back.

He follows you seconds later, holding you tight to him as he spills inside you, your names tangled in breathless gasps.

Afterward, you lie on his chest, both of you still shaking. His hand runs gently down your spine. You feel him press a kiss to your temple.

“You’re the best thing I never got written for,” he whispers.

You don’t answer. You just hold him. Because you know what’s coming next. And he’s slipping again.

you lie with him for a long time. His body is warm, tangled with yours beneath the blanket, his breath steady against your shoulder. One hand rests lazily over your stomach, like he’s anchoring himself to your skin.

You’re not sure how long you stay like that—wrapped in the kind of silence that only comes after something true.

But eventually, you feel his fingers twitch. Then still. Then again.

“Satoru?” you whisper.

He blinks slowly, then furrows his brows like something's wrong.

“…What was your name again?”

Your heart drops.

You sit up, brushing hair out of his face. “Don’t joke.”

“I’m not,” he says, voice quiet. Distant. “I know you. I feel like I know you. But it’s slipping. Like I’m trying to hold water in my hands.”

You press your palm to his cheek. “You’re still here. You’re still with me.”

He nods, but he doesn’t look convinced. That’s when you realize—This is it. He won’t last much longer. Whatever brought him here—whatever magic, glitch, miracle—it’s running out.

And if he goes like this, half-glitched, half-lost, it’ll break both of you. So you do the only thing you can.

You get out of bed. Pull on a hoodie. And sit at your desk. The words don’t come easy at first. But then your fingers move. Not on your phone. Not in a fanfic comment thread. On paper.

With a real pen, real ink, real hands. You write him an ending. A soft one.

Where he’s not a CEO haunted by guilt. Not a tragic man doomed to die before he can fall in love. You write him waking up in a quiet home, sunlight through curtains, coffee in a chipped mug, a cat that curls on his lap. You write him laughing. You write him safe. You write him at peace.

And you write that he gets to say goodbye. When it’s done, you read it aloud to him. Your voice shakes.

He listens, seated on the edge of your bed, blanket wrapped around his hips, eyes full of something that doesn’t feel like a glitch anymore. It feels like gratitude.

When you finish, you look up. He’s smiling softly.

“You did it,” he whispers.

“I gave you an ending,” you say. “You deserved one.”

He stands. Walks to you. And kisses you again. This one is slower. Full of something final.

“Thank you for writing me something better,” he says against your lips.

Tears well in your eyes. “Thank you for being real. Even just for a little while.” His fingers linger on your cheek.

He vanishes in the morning. Not with fanfare. Not with light or thunder or spark.

Just… A flicker.

You’d gone to brush your teeth. You’d left him tangled in your sheets, watching you from the bed with sleep-soft eyes and a crooked smile.

You came back— And the sheets were cold. You say his name once. Then again, louder. But there’s no answer. No trace. No indent in the pillow. No warmth in the blankets.

Just a silence so sharp it cuts. You don’t cry at first.

You sit on the edge of the bed, fingers curled around the hem of your shirt, blinking at the place he had been just hours ago. You try to replay his voice in your head, his laugh, the things he whispered against your skin. You press your face into your pillow and breathe deep, desperate to find even a trace of him.

But all you smell is fabric softener and loss. He’s gone. Like he never belonged here at all.

You grieve quietly. You carry his memory in the scribbled pages of your notebook, worn at the edges from being opened again and again. But you don’t write for him anymore. You write for yourself.

You don’t talk about it. How could you? You go back to class. You go back to microwaving leftovers. You scroll past fanfiction tags and never click again.

Some nights you still whisper his name in the dark, just in case he hears it. But he never answers. You begin to believe maybe he was just a dream after all. A beautiful, impossible dream.

Three months later, on the first warm day of spring, you’re sitting outside the library, notebook open, headphones in, sunlight catching in your lashes.

You almost don’t hear it.

“Excuse me—,” someone says.

You look up. And your heart stops.

A young man stands hesitantly before you, holding a crumpled campus map. His glasses slip slightly down his nose, his hair tousled from the breeze.

He looks unfamiliar yet somehow familiar.

“Could you help me? I’m completely lost,” he says, voice gentle but uncertain.

“Do you know where the science building is?” he asks, sheepish. “I’ve been walking in a circle for like twenty minutes.”

You stare. He’s different. No polished arrogance. No CEO swagger. No tailored suit. But it’s still him. That face. Those eyes. That voice.

You slowly take out your earbuds.

“…What’s your name?” you manage, breath shallow.

He smiles at you—confused, but kind.

“Satoru,” he says. “Satoru Gojo.”

Your lips part. His gaze lingers on your face for a moment too long. Then—

“Have we met before?” he asks, tilting his head.

“No, we haven’t met,” you whisper.

He chuckles, eyes bright.

“Maybe it’s a good thing. A new story.”

And as the sunlight pools around you both, you realize some endings are just beginnings in disguise.

[makingsenseofwhathappened]

hi. just a reminder

your anger is not ugly your fury's not too loud

something that should’ve been safe wasn't but you had to smile through it like the curves were the shape of healing.

of course you’re mad and on fire. that heat kept you going.

it's what kept you alive.

love, someone who knows your spark isn't the problem

[dekusdante]

Plan on writing a Gojo x Reader. Do you want...

Angst no happy ending

Fluff happy all around

Voting ended onMay 9, 2025

[izumkay]

"CAUGHT, KEPT, CRAVED" |m.list|

❥Pairing- Hunter!Satoru × Fairy!Reader

❥Synposis- Satoru Gojo never believed in fairy tales—until he found one standing right in front of him. A real, flesh-and-blood fairy, in his forest. He should’ve been concerned, maybe even terrified, but mostly? He was just shocked as hell.

Fairies weren’t real. They belonged in bedtime stories, not in the middle of his hunt, staring at him like he was the strange one. And yet, days passed, and she didn’t vanish like a dream. Instead, she became something else entirely—something dangerous, something forbidden. Keeping her close is reckless. Letting her go? Impossible.

❥Gerne/theme- MDNI. Explicit sexual content, lot of sexual tension, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of death, forbidden love, fantasy AU, mention of fire and deaths, blood, abuse, possessiveness, SA attempts, longing, sacrifices, reunion, seperation, fluff too <3 happy ending.

→WC- 10 k

—CHAPTERS—

Chapter-1 | Seeing is Believing.

メOther—

Hunter!Gojo aesthetics + Fairy!Reader aesthetics

[taglist is open!]

[dhffcufgnjtcgg-deactivated20251]

I may get flamed for this but I'm at my limit

As a black girl, I hate black x readers.

Yeah, I said it.

They're all so stereotypical that it feel like a white person wrote it in the 1990's

I do not want to be called "mama", I do not speak or look like glorilla or sexxy red, I do not cus every other sentence like im a south park character, I do not only care about sex or money or drugs, and it is crazy how I am unable to find a black x reader that doesn't have at least one of these things.

I am on tumblr because I am weird, because I was bullied, because this was the only place me, as well as other marginalized communities, felt safe and heard, i came here to escape the racism and stereotypes of my race, i came here to find nuance, to find other weird ppl like me.

But now all I find are ppl from TikTok who think all fanfiction are amateur playwright for pornos.

These people who make these fanfictions probably don't know the first this about ao3, fanfiction culture, or probably Tumblr culture for that matter.

I have seen many other post that share my opinion so I know I'm not alone, but I still can't find any actual change.

For people who claim to be "representing black people" in fanfiction, they sure like to only represent the stereotypical version of us that racist wish to perpetuate to use against us.

[dekusdante]

Stereotype black reader x character is really making poc look bad. It's truly disheartening for new comers and older readers who just want to be included.

[triangularz]

HAPPY BLACK HISTORY MONTH (EVERY MONTH)

IMPORTANT: Reblogged versions of the list may not be most recent; click here for the latest.

List usage: Thoughts welcome. This project is my little contribution to our space here on tumblr, having seen comments about difficulties finding black authors and artists. I'm familiar with an incredible number of creators now; I'm so proud of us. I choose to do this unsolicited and unfortunately, this may not be a needed solution. I formatted the list about a year ago and have maintained it, which I think is something important and unique about it (every entry checked about once a month), hoping it might be beneficial. Many of you send thanks for being added to the list. But within the last year, less than five individuals have shared with me that they've actually used it (likes and reblogs aren't necessarily indicative of that) and very, very few have either asked to be added or sent additional writers/artists my way. Those requests have been clear virtually since the beginning. Without feedback I assume the list isn't impactful and that's fine. I'll wait until the end of March to decide whether to continue. Love you all! ❤︎

We're here: Support, enjoy, follow, comment, reblog- pin/save and spread!

Monthly upkeep: 2/3/2025. List includes blogs active within the last 3 months. See also "Inactive with Content" section

List begins below housekeeping, then a few of my thoughts.

Using the list? If you find works you enjoy, let me know; I'd like to know whether this is helpful.

IMPORTANT NOTES ABOUT THE LIST | #-G

H-O | P-Z

Welcome & Celebrate! Darlings: This is a directory of Black individuals who create- different backgrounds, experiences, interests, etc-incl. a variety of preferences, writing styles, subgenres, fandoms, etc. Remember as you read: We don't all look alike, talk a like, live alike- and that's to be praised.

The focus is fan works creators: You’ll see some original fics/original art, and plenty of original characters in general.

Initial seeds for the list here: Thanks to @cardierreh15 who posted a request for black creators -> I organized, aggregated and continue to add.

Growing it:

The list ISN’T exclusive, no requirements for inclusion**.

DM me- incl. fandoms and tags (see below). Please spell correctly. I strongly encourage masterlist and/or featured tags for your blog!

Tag examples- smut, fluff, plot (plot plot) drama, mature, comfort, angst, series, 5k+ fics, humor, dark content, lgbtq+; illustration, comics; or your own.

Upkeep: I check the entire list monthly for removed blogs, name changes, etc. If you notice something, let me know. I will remove your entry if you ever prefer that.

Check out: @blkwriters ( @ramonathinks damn, the tags the organization of it wow)

content tags are not all inclusive.

abbrevs/definitions/listing of genres, styles, etc. here

no masterlist? search within the blog for fandom titles, characters, etc.

Find something you love? Reblog comment repeat!

Looking for something in particular? DM me.

#

555sage (wwe- jay critch, dave east, more)

A

a-lumos-in-the-nox (harry potter, mcu- character x oc, fluff,

smut, angst, dead dove don't eat, series, multi-chapter)

abinitioart

@ablackfangirl (mha, jjk, h!!, naruto, aot, seraph of

the end,🔹)

ackee (original art; writing-ocs) akm87 (original art, ocs)

annie-manga (original art, ocs) aquiboni (original art, ocs)

arachine (stranger things, marvel, avatar- angst, fluff, dc,

nsfw) auraee (ds, genshin impact- sfw, fluff)

B

blkkizzat (jjk - smut, pwp, plot, ✒️ incl. 5k+,

black-coded reader)

bleach-your-panties (bleach, mha, aot, jjk, tr, tg, h!!, hxh,

ds, cm- smut, plot/pwp, dc, angst, fluff, x blk reader)

bluumey (original art, ocs, lgbtq)

bluesidez (miguel o’hara/astv- smut, fluff, angst)

boxofbonesfic (star wars, thor odinson, lotr/the hobbit,

h. cavill, marvel, c. evans, s. stan- angst, fluff, dc,

comedy, horror)

breyspage (aot, mha- fluff, nsfw)

bunnerscrib-28 (fanart, original art, ocs- toontown,

danganronpa, total drama, more)

bunnyboowrites (op- smut, occasional fluff, series)

C

c-nstantine (dc comics, marvel, mha, ocs)

c0pkiller (alt, jjk, ds, cm, hxh, op- sfw, nsfw, ocs)

caashmoneynae (tupac, method man, devante

swing, d’angelo, joey bada$$, more- plot, nsfw)

cardierreh15 (h. cavill- smut, angst, fluff, violence, series,✒️ )

captwaddledoo (xenoblade, final fantasy xv, octopath

traveler II- character study, introspection)

cevansbrat0007 (c. evans roles, a. mackie, s. stan (bucky

barnes)- plot, smut/explicit, series, ✒️ )

charee (original art)

@chrollohearttags (aot, ds, hxh, jjk, tr, kuroko no basket, h!!,

op- smut, fluff, dc, series,✒️ )

clouzyday (jjk- fanart and writing, series✒️ )

cocoamoonmalfoy (timothée chalamet, zendaya

and florence pugh characters, eivor varinsdóttir, loki

laufeyson, peter parker- various genres, series, ✒️ )

cocoadropp (aot, jjk, h!!, cod- smut)

cookiepie111 (marvel, könig, op)

cowinf (fanart, ocs, original art- deltarune, final fantasy, d&d,

berserk, more)

cozystars (fanart, original art- dungeon meshi, superstar

saga, more, lgbtq, mature themes)

creatingblackcharacters (art, writing, character design,

and racial sensitivity)

crescentmoontsuki (ds, jjk, mha, aot- fluff, comfort, angst)

crxssjae (honkai star rail, wwe- sami zayn, jey uso- smut,

plot, lgbtq, series,✒️ )

crystolnaut (original art, ocs, lgbtq)

cuddledot (original art)

D

darksideofthecocoamoon (timothée chalamet characters,

prince hal- dark content, series,✒️ )

darqchilddaydreamz (sons of anarchy, mayans, chicago pd,

good girls- humor, smut, angst, fluff)

dearkiryu (wind breaker, tr, mha, jjk, bungou stray dogs- sfw

& nsfw, smut, plot, dc, some fluff, series)

decodium (original art/fanart- iron giant, lupin the

third, lucky luke)

dejwrld (archived- aot, jjk, cod, h!!, mortal kombat,

vinland saga- sfw, nsfw, series,✒️ )

desavine (original art- lgbtq, blood, gore, horror)

dimikira (original art)

dreamsinfocus (roman reigns- smut/nsfw, series,✒️ incl. 5k)

dumbbunneybabey/regalityandcoffee- (ocs, wwe nxt,

william regal, jon morley, bret hart, dexter lumis, more- sfw,

nsfw)

E

ebonyslasher (slashers- michael myers, billy lenz, jason

voorhees, stu matcher, more- fluff, smut, humor)

elfqueen006 (sunny day jack- plot, horror, humor, plot, dc,

angst) ellethespaceunicorn (h. cavill, c. evans and

s. stan characters- explicit, mature, general, fluff, series,✒️ )

empressdede (wwe- smut, plot, series,✒️ )

F

fairune (original art, ocs) @fastlikealambo (hunger games,

dune, barbie, the last of us, marvel, dc, stranger things, feyd

rautha harkonnen- plot, series)

fineanddandy (character roles- brandon boyd, s. stan, aldis

hodge, charlie hunnam, manny montana, tess thompson,

more- plot, smut, angst, series,✒️ incl. 12k)

frogwhomp (original art)

G

gardenof-venus (euphoria, criminal minds, stranger

things, marvel- smut, fluff, angst)

getosbigballsack (jjk- smut, fluff, series,✒️ )

glorious-imagines (dc, marvel, naruto, tr, umbrella academy,

more- incorrect quotes, angst, fluff)

greyspaceghost (original art, ocs)

INACTIVE (>3 MONTHS) W/CONTENT OR ARCHIVED

(Then removed after six months of blog inactivity)

deathc-re (op, jjk, mha, angel of death, (marvel, more- suggestive, nsfw)

▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️

Some thoughts, with respect (roll your eyes if you’d like, it’s a lot of the same ole same old… if you do roll your eyes, send me a video of you doing it and I’ll try to care… jk I’m being cheeky, but there may be some newer folks here who might find this helpful!!):.

We’re very obviously diverse in artistic/creative style, speech, experience, philosophies, takes on the world, how frequently we post/ how prolific, our perspectives, personalities, all that… so find what you like, skip what you don't (Settings - Filtering for what you don’t want to fully see or just block). REBLOG (THEY’RE FAR MORE IMPORTANT THAN LIKES). GIVE PRAISE. THANK PEOPLE. particularly with specifics (I’m working on all this too, my lazy ass), we don’t need more of us to leave… ✔️

Creating and pinning a masterlist is SO HELPFUL! ppl can better find your original works OR use a unique tag for each of your works so that ppl can search within your blog. ✔️

Tagging is important for your works and what you reblog- character or fandom x black reader, x black!reader, x fluff, x smut, x smut with feelings, #blk fanfic writers, #blk writers, # blk fanfiction, see how others use tags, there are a shit ton more ✔️

Adding name and age to your blog is smart. Many, many folks have blogs that include explicit content and topics, and they choose to use age restrictions block those who follow or reach out to interact if a name/age aren’t listed on that person’s blog ✔️

▪️

Besos, Hazel 💋

blk fanfic writer, triangularz

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**Nothing about this list is official or bound by any kind of external requirements/others' expectations- this is a project l've created. There are some content topics I'm uncomfortable with, so if I happen to skim, and note that a blog contains:

glorification of/detail recounting of themes like inc*st, harm to minors, r*pe/noncon, glorification of abuse or similar, I will not add.

As I spot check or if others notify me and I verify, I'll remove. I'll do so quietly, no call outs or big to do's

If I don't feel comfortable with other topics, etc. I have the right to exclude and again, that would be discretely. I'm talking primarily about content concerns, not blog exclusion because of petty foolishness or anything like that. I want as many of us as possible to be listed! ✔️