i.warning, this blog is meant for my writings which means it is multi-fandom. it also contains spoilers to the source material that i will be writing for. writer and owner of this blog is eighteen and goes by any pronouns. current hyperfixation is jujutsu kaisen.
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*ੈ hi, i am xia! current obsession: jujutsu kaisen, studying, korean/douyin make up, korean skincare shows: jujutsu kaisen, attack on titan, free! iwatobi swim club, saiki k, the promised neverland -> more. games: genshin impact, mystic messenger, hi3rd, tears of themis, mlqc. favs: raiden ei, kaeya alberich, albedo kreideprinz. gojo satoru, iori utahime, megumi fushiguro. jumin han, 707. saiki kusuo. raiden mei, elysia
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ HA, YOU LOST?
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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ABOUT THIS BLOG.
contains spoilers of any kind. owner is eighteen (18). keep that in mind. do not interact if you are a racist, homophobic, transphobic, fit the basic dni criteria, my irl. i write when i want so i may disappear from time to time as i am a full-time student currently on my last year of high school. if you do send in an ask, i'll be sure to read each of them! any similarities are coincidental. layout inspiration goes to @/chuluoyi on tumblr.
blog started: 2/12/23
thank you for reading till the end! i hope to see you soon! <3
love entires satoru would spar so seriously with suguru or anybody else during practice but with us he would be so soft despite us wanting him to go all out to keep it fair and how we want to improve our skills 😭
so true 😋 he’s so not serious while sparring with you but he’ll beat the hell out of suguru and haibara so you feel it’s unfair—
“you’re so unhelpful! i want to get strong too!” 😫
“why? i can protect you well! you don’t even need to lift a finger!” 😗
“that’s not the point! what if you aren’t there?! i need to fend for myself too—or i’ll die!” 😒
“—?! no! i’ll follow you then so you won’t die!”
but in the end you convince him to spar with you seriously after he loses a bet with haibara (you rigged it) and when he does, even he manhandles you far gentler. but of course he has the upper arm so he pins you down, and you are taken aback. until he pinches your cheek—
“don’t make that face. i won’t ever hurt you, dummy.”
oneirataxia \ one-er-tax-ea \ (n.) - the inability to distinguish between fantasy and reality
❆ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: gojo satoru x gn!reader
❆ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: satoru's perception of love changes as he learns what it really means through you
❆ 𝐰𝐜: 1.8k
❆ 𝐚/𝐧: another self indulgent character study ahaha....we are so back...
❆ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none :3
i want to be loved.
all he knew about love was what’s been shown to him in media. songs about pining, books about lust, and movies about soulmates who weren’t meant to be. maybe that’s why rom-coms had secretly always been satoru’s guilty pleasure.
he wasn’t really sure what ‘love’ looked like, in any sense of the word. familial, platonic, romantic–any iteration. he grew up pretty well protected and sheltered, his parents leaving his handling to a bodyguard or dedicated nanny. where maternal and paternal love should live, there’s a soft hole in his heart filled instead with expensive toys, a home cooked meal that wasn’t made by a parent, and extravagant trips to keep his location a mystery.
satoru didn’t mind it. at least he didn’t think so–it’s all he’d ever known. being so sought-after and sheltered as a kid made it difficult to make and keep friends. primed for the world of sorcerers since his birth shook the balance, satoru never had much of a chance to be a kid at all, really.
it manifests where you least expect it. his apartment is cold and independent; no notions of family anywhere in the sparsely decorated penthouse. all of the money in the world couldn’t buy the love that was stunted in his life. it’s hard to bridge that gap when you don’t see the gap at all. satoru sees no issue in it. he’s slowly started to fill the apartment with nods of his personality. a picture of the two of you, a ‘thank you’ card given to him by a student, a book megumi recommended to him collecting dust on his coffee table. he doesn’t really have time for reading, anyways.
before you met, satoru imagined love to be something different. love was crying in the rain, dancing with your lover like you didn’t care who was watching. it was running through an airport before they took off, catching them at the gate and convincing them to stay. it was red roses garnished with a bow. it was playing your favorite song on a speaker outside of your window, getting your attention by throwing pebbles at the glass.
it was some of those things, sure. not in the way the two of you loved.
you taught satoru what love was in a different way. he didn’t think love could be so…normal? not grandiose. moments of love are between the big ‘movie-moments,’ he’s realized. he can’t remember exactly when he’d fallen in love with you, but there’s a few moments that stick out to him.
he’d first come to recognize what gentle love was when he came home from a long mission. he’d been gone for about 3 weeks, with very little contact. only small updates that he was alive to keep you at bay. maybe it was the lack of familial love that keeps him at an arm’s length. he stinks at communication–it’s probably his most fatal flaw. a bit of an isolationist at heart, satoru needs to constantly remind himself to keep in touch with his own partner. he’s learning to be better at it, and you’re learning to be more patient. a relationship is a compromise, after all.
he finally walked in the door, unannounced and unplanned. it was about 2 a.m. when he slithered in, taking his time to be extra quiet in the late hours. the house was silent, dark, and your shoes were by the door. must be asleep.
satoru walked to the bedroom, exhaustion and frustration clouding his headspace. what he really needed was a shower and a long rest, but he’d try for the former in the morning.
first, the smell of his cologne hit his nose. it wasn’t offensive, but it was a little overbearing–where was this coming from? he’d certainly not worn it in this room in nearly three weeks. he turned a soft light on to get undressed, and you shuffled in your sleep. and then he saw you.
satoru almost took you for a stranger. you were using his pillow, sitting on his side of the bed, wearing his sweatshirt. you looked like an angel there, sleeping so soundly that he barely wanted to move the bed and get in it. so he didn’t, just for a bit. the hole in his heart was slowly filling back up, and it hurt his chest a bit in a way that made it feel like it’d burst. nonetheless, he grabbed your pillow that you’d tossed aside and laid down next to you.
and his nostrils burned a bit.
you’d sprayed his cologne all over the bed. the scent was a little overwhelming, but everything in him was too enamored to even think straight. he scooted the pillow a bit closer to you, snaking his arms around you to pull you closer to him. this was sweeter than anything he’s seen before; ‘this is love,’ he thought to himself.
i want to be loved.
satoru didn’t realize that he’d always wanted this. he just didn’t know what he was missing out on. and here you are, proving it again and again. is this the love he dreamed of? that he saw in everything he watched? he wiped his eyes.
something about this interaction changed him deep down. and while you weren’t awake to see this one, satoru had a similar reaction on two other occasions.
one was his birthday.
there’s something beautifully tragic about crying on your birthday; are you crying that time is passing? crying that you’ll never be that age again? if there’s one thing that binds humanity, crying on your birthday has to be close to the top.
you were eyeing satoru when you asked him about his birthday plans. he brushed them off, saying that celebrating his birthday was never a priority.
“you’ve never had a birthday party as a kid?” you ask.
“mm, nope,” he responded flatly, “i didn’t really celebrate my birthday when i was younger. it was like any other day to me, y’know?”
you huffed, pouted, and said okay. he’d figured that was the end of it, until the day came along.
satoru walked in from work, again, to a dark apartment. mildly annoyed, he flicked on the lights to see you standing in the decorated house, wearing a dorky little party hat.
“surprise!” you cheered, blowing into a cheap paper horn.
satoru smiled, amused, “what’s all this?”
“happy birthday, honey,” you finally walked through the streamers and balloons on the floor to greet him with a kiss. “sit at the table,”
he took his coat and shoes off, slowly walking to the dinner table as he admired the work you put in. it was decorated very childishly–a homemade banner, bright, primary colors as the main points sticking out. streamers, balloons with cartoon characters on them. there was a lone party hat on the seat at the head of the table.
you motioned to it, giggling.
satoru smirked. “do i have to?”
“it’s your birthday. you absolutely must.”
this was definitely a child’s hat–the rubber band snapped as soon as he got it around his chin. suppressing a giggle, he fiddled with it as he got it to stay in his hair. as soon as he did, the lights dimmed.
and there you were, walking to him with a cake in your hands, candles being covered by your hand to stop any breeze. you sang as you set the cake in front of him, putting your hands on his shoulders and gently kissing his cheek when you were done.
the frosting was uneven, the candles used before. “happy birthday” was written poorly across the top–it was all of his favorite flavors made by the one who knew and loved him best.
satoru had been to birthdays before, but it seems like he’s never attended his own.
“you have to make a wish before you–hm?”
before you could finish, you look at satoru. he’s looking down at the cake, a tear running down his cheek. he looks up at you, hand finding the side of your face to pull you into a kiss. he didn’t say anything about it, just kissed you and blew out his candles.
you let it go, smiling to yourself as you cut him a piece of the homemade cake. satoru kept the party hat, secretly. at least, he thinks it’s a secret. you ignore it whenever it rolls off the top shelf of the closet, carefully putting it back with anything else he’s looking to hide.
satoru doesn’t know what’s tying him back to that party hat. it’s made of a flimsy cardboard, with the rubber band chin strap broken from the moment he tried to put it on. he still can’t bring himself to throw it out, though. so at the back of the closet it will stay.
the first moment, you weren’t awake for, the second, maybe you could excuse. the third and most incriminating was, again, at the beginning of the relationship. it was the first night you stayed at his apartment; before you moved in, before you called your relationship anything concrete or official. the two of you fumbled it along, figuring it out along the way. satoru took the move of inviting you to stay and spend the night.
so you did. it didn’t take long for you two to make out on his couch, satoru eventually carrying you to the bedroom as you both fell out of your clothes. infatuation, maybe; something was keeping you both clawing at the other so desperately. it was your first time together.
you weren’t really sure how many partners satoru had before you, and frankly, you didn’t care. he treated you well, he respected your boundaries, and he checked in before he made any move further. honestly, he was a gentleman.
it took you by surprise when halfway through, he hovered over you and stopped his moans. you weren’t sure how long you two had been going, but satoru had both hands at the side of your face as you felt something hit your cheek. sweat, maybe?
no, tears. he was crying.
you reached your hand up, thumbing away the single tear from his pretty cheek.
“why are you crying?”
“i-” he mumbled, “i don’t know,”
it’s okay, you thought. overwhelming hormones? sudden rush of dopamine? was he embarrassed? who knows. maybe you’ll ask another time.
you reached your hands around his neck to pull him down to your face, reaching up slightly to give him a soft kiss. a delicate one. he deserved to feel delicate, to feel loved.
and he did. that’s why he was crying. that’s why he cried during your first time together, cried on his birthday, and cried on a random thursday morning when he saw you in bed.
it’s unconscious. by the time he realizes what’s happening, there’s already a tear rolling down his cheek. but that’s all it takes for him to feel gratitude, warmth, and the realization that the love he’s always craved is closer than he could’ve imagined.
The fact that he doesnt draw geto’s face in any of them, but only his smile, which could mean he’s starting to forget Geto’s face, but not his smile, which would mean he focused more on Geto’s smile than his face. as if geto’s smile meant everything to Satoru.
hi i wanted to ask since your requests are open but can u write abt jjk guys (gojo, geto and maybe megumi as well) and how it would be like arguing with them? thank youuu~
ARGUMENTS WITH JJK MEN ˚｡𖦹
featuring. gojo satoru, geto suguru, toji fushiguro x reader
warnings. cursing on toji's :)
note. hi nonnie, megumi's been done and you can just click right there to be directed to the said post — so, i'm going to change him to his father jsksdjdk. anyways, i'm so sorry this came out so late, i hope you like it. i was going to focus on my 1k event but then i realized that i'm holding up the requests in my inbox, so i'm going to try to upload them together one by one. / and ngl, i just did my nails done for the first time, aND I AM STRUGGLING TO DO ANYTHING. including typing, but i'm trying my best skdjs.
GOJO SATORU. arguments with him are just plain loud. for instance, we all know how gojo is, he'd be so petty during arguments. despite that though — i feel like he won't ever raise his voice at you, he's petty, yes. but he won't do anything that could scare you, raising his voice.
believe me when i say that he won't back down when he isn't in the wrong. he will argue back if you're wrong; and even with all that banter, both you and gojo will always resolve it together. he won't let you leave or turn away to discard the argument. gojo hates it when you give him the silent treatment — so he tries his best to not let you leave unless everything is talked about, face to face.
"satoru, i'm just saying that i didn't mean to do that. okay? i didn't even realize it!" you tell him, voice loud and bold.
gojo looks at you, brows furrowed, "this is the second time y/n, i'm sure you realize that — you're not a child anymore." you grumbled under your breath.
the past few days have been stressful. hectic for you. you knew though it wasn't an excuse, but when things get too caught up — you lose track of things, and honestly, you wanted nothing to do but to sleep and take a rest. work has been taking a big toll on you, both mentally and physically — and you can't bring yourself to argue with gojo right now.
"satoru, i know. it's just, things have been stressful at work. i'm sorry i forgot to turn off the stove," you tell him genuinely sorry that you almost, possibly burn the whole house down if he hadn't been the one to realize that, "i'm sorry, okay?"
his gaze softened. regaining control over the rhythm of his breathing, gojo reaches out to you, "d'you wanna talk about it?"
you shook your head, "i just wan' to sleep, satoru. i'm tired." he buries his nose into your hair before tossing you over his shoulder, you didn't complain at the way he decided to carry you — you just wanted to go to bed and sleep the night away.
the male held you close as he climbed your shared bed, "'m sorry too," he mumbles, grazing his lips over your forehead.
"you don't have to be, it's my fault for being reckless," you replied, draping an arm over his torso, clutching his black shirt, "can we sleep now?"
gojo chuckles, "mhm. good night," he whispers, "i love you."
you smiled at him, burying your face into his chest, "good night 'toru. i love you more."
GETO SUGURU. arguments with geto can be pretty frustrating, although he never raises his voice at you. he just knows what to say, and he's always right too. whether it being about you forgetting to throw the trash out (once), or you being forgetful about some things — geto just knows the right words to say to you, without making you feel like you're doing something wrong.
see, the thing is in the house. you both divided your chores, geto does the dishes, and the mopping. you do the laundry and vacuuming. while the morning trash is yours, and he does it nightly.
he's usually never in the wrong. most of the time. but when he is, he will admit so. in conclusion, you don't argue with him often, because he will apologize if he knows he did something wrong. but this was on rare occasions.
today is one of those rare occasions. you swore you had left the house clean — and you remembered throwing the trash before you leave for work. yet, here he was, asking you about it.
"suguru, i promise i threw it in the morning. before i left for work," you tell him, taking off your shoes and putting it neatly on the shoe rack. having to come back home from work, you just wanted to eat dinner, have a nice warm bath, and sleep.
god, you hated arguments. you admitted that you sometimes forget to throw the trash out while rushing to go to work, but that was not intentional at all.
geto had asked your prior about it. you knew he wasn't sparking an argument, but the thing is — you remembered it well. going out of the door this morning while holding a plastic of waste, hell, you even remembered bumping into a neighbor on the way out.
"just . . . let me throw it out again—" geto has been awfully silent for the past few minutes, and when you approached the trash can, he immediately stops you.
his hand latching around your wrist gently as he pulls you over, "no, no. it's my fault, i remember now. i was the one who threw that in the trash can after you left," he said to you in an apologetic tone, "'m sorry."
you shook your head, "it's okay, it's just a misunderstanding. and it's not like you intentionally forgot about it, right?" he nods his head mutely, pulling you into a silent embrace, "y'okay sugu?"
"the next time i do that — i want you to smack me in the face, okay?" you chuckled, placing a wet kiss onto his lips.
TOJI FUSHIGURO. i don't know how to say it — he's just accepts his fate and does whatever you want him to do. he thinks arguments are a complete waste of time, it's not like he likes arguing with you in the first place. he just doesn't see a point to it since he never initiates the talking; you always do. but that's because he did things that sparked the said argument. you reap what you sow.
toji can be lazy sometimes. scratch that. most of the time. clothes sprawled out in the living room, on the kitchen counter which he claimed he forgot when he was grabbing water, on the couch, on the headboard of your bed, on the bathroom sink. and honestly, he's a grown man — he knows better than that.
"toji, how many times do i have to tell you—"
"put the dirty laundry in their place, yeah, y'reminded me that like . . . three times today." he grumbled under his breath as he yawned out loudly.
"then why are you still leaving them everywhere? god, this is so childish! it's like 'm taking care of a fucking baby," toji lets out a sigh, "i'm so tired of telling you over and over again. you're a grown man, why can't you act like one?"
toji's not dumb. he knows it's his mistake, and sometimes he genuinely forgets about leaving his shirt out while being too preoccupied with other things. he loves you, he really does. the last thing he'd like is you leaving him because he can't stop his habit of leaving his shirt everywhere.
he approaches you, taking the shirt out of your grip, "my fault."
"damn right it is. the next time i see another shirt, i swear to god, you're sleeping on the couch." you muttered out, crossing your arms — watching as the male meekly trotted into the bathroom where the laundry basket rested beside the bathroom cabinet.
"is that a threat?" he chuckles, peeking his head out.
"no. it's a warning."
he walks out of the bathroom, slithering an arm around your waist, hoisting you up onto his shoulder as he walked towards the couch. prepping you on his lap, "mm. noted, can you stop getting mad at me now?" he comments, grazing his finger over your neck.
and he did it again at night (and slept on the couch like you warned him, he still hates you for that).
synopsis: gojo satoru rarely gets sick, but when he does, he acts like a child (you don't mind that because when will you ever get the chance of taking care of gojo?)
warnings: sick gojo, fluff, gn!reader, gojo is stubborn (hates being taken care of) — wc: 528
notes: IM BACK YEAHHHHHHH im almost finished with my finals so here we are :3
“y/n, please leave.” satoru blocks the door with his tall figure, leaving you unable to enter his apartment. “i’m begging you.”
you huff, standing your ground. “i am not leaving until you let me take care of you. you’re sick, toru! your body is heating up as we speak.”
“i’m fine-” satoru lets out a cough. “seriously, just go home! i can take care of myself.” as soon as he says that, he sneezes, knees feeling weak. you quickly catch him before he falls.
“‘i’m fine’ my ass. come on, let me take care of you for once.” you mumble, helping satoru inside. you gently lay him on the couch, to which he instantly rests his head on the pillows. “i’ll go make you some porridge, yeah?”
satoru nods, too weak to speak. you instantly got to work, cooking up a porridge as quietly as possible to not disturb his rest. as soon as you finished making the porridge, you brought it over to satoru, gently waking him up. “toru, wake up. you need to eat.”
satoru reluctantly opens his eyes. “can i eat later? i feel sick.”
“you have to eat now so then you can drink some medicine. after that i promise you i’ll let you sleep as much as you want.” you softly say, helping satoru sit up. “just eat a few bites and i’ll be happy.” you hold the spoon full of warm porridge in front of him and he opens his mouth, just wide enough to eat.
after a few bites, satoru mumbles about how full he feels and you stop, quickly grabbing medicine from the drawer and a cup of water. “here. drink this and you’ll feel better.” satoru drank the medicine and you smiled. “there.”
instead of laying back down on the pillow, he lays his head on your lap. “sorry.”
you tilt your head in confusion. “hm? what are you sorry for?”
“don’t know… just feels annoying being sick.” satoru mumbles, hiding his face in your shirt. “i hate feeling like this.”
“mm, i know, baby. everyone has their sick days. you know how it is.” you say, gently caressing his head. “i don’t mind taking care of you for once, though. it’s a good change. i like it.”
“i should be taking care of you, not the other way around.” satoru complains, finally meeting your eyes. “it’s like- i don’t know. it feels weird.”
“hey, don’t feel bad. i like taking care of you, don’t worry.” you leaned down and gave satoru a quick kiss on the lips, to which he immediately covered his lips. “what?”
“i’m sick! you can’t just kiss me! what if you get sick too?” satoru’s voice is muffled behind his hands. “i don’t want you to get sick too.”
you smiled. “i won’t. trust me. now you go back to sleep and you’ll feel better in the morning because my porridge has magical healing powers.”
satoru laughs and closes his eyes, quickly falling back to sleep.
(the next day, you were woken up by a scratchy throat and blocked nose — to which satoru was delighted because he can finally take care of you).
Genre : heavy angst, hurt and comfort, sfw, a small millisecond of fluff at last?
A/N : Sorry if someone did this already, but i wanted to write something sad so bad lol.
WARNING : panic attack, self harm, mentions of blood, crying, tears, past abuse & bullying
“This is kinda big for you, huh,” Satoru says, kneeling on the bathroom tiles in front of you and rolling up the sleeves for a better fit.
You're not in the best state, sickness taking a toll on you in the middle of literature class. Satoru blames it all on how poorly you've dressed yourself so he asks for permission to bring you to the bathroom and put some of his.
Your wrists feel cold where he touches and his blue eyes freeze when his fingertips brush over something over your skirt pocket.
It's that bloody pen, the one that—
“Shit,” Satoru mutters.
It has been two years since you last saw them. The reason of your current panic attacks. Two years since your boyfriend reported them to the police for severe bullying case. Although they're gone, they did leave their evil habit to corrode you by yourself, untill you collapse of self deterioration. That is, if your boyfriend wasn't there by your side.
The bathroom's lights are dim but he can faintly make out where your skin is darker under his jacket that he made you wear, like it's bruised. He takes a long breathe. Satoru's fingers tremble as he goes to pull it out of your skirt.
“Stop! ” you shout suddenly, standing bolt upright from the closed toilet seat he made you sit on, eyes wet and unfocused.
He looks at you, and the only word Satoru can think of is broken. He feels protective over you all of a sudden. He's the only one in this world who knows what you've gone through, and there's no way he's not going to do something about it.
“y/n, please,” Satoru says, taking a step towards you. “Let me take that out. It's not good for you-”
“It is,” you're still shouting, voice cracking, taking multiple steps back, as if you're a cornered prey and Satoru is hunting you. “It is, you can't take it, you can't-”
“Give me the pen,” Satoru's chest aches. “Please, pup, you're hurting yourself.”
“I'm not hurting myself, it helps,” comes your croaked voice. You walk back, away from him, and then trip on something, probably the wet floor. You don't even try to get up. Just there, staring up at Satoru with those terrible, glassy eyes. It's coming, your panic attack — you can feel it. You don't want it again.
“You wouldn't understand,” you say like a stubborn kid accusingly. “So- j-just stop trying to act. You don't get, it helps, it's all I have--”
“No, you don't get it,” Satoru voice reaches an octave. There's something telling him he shouldn't be angry, that you're only lashing out because you're desperate, but Satoru is still Satoru. “Its crazy, the way you hurt yourself with that damn pen all day! ” His chest heaves but he needs to say more, finish this once and for all. He sees it, that godforsaken pen clutched like a candy in a kid's hand.
“It's not helping and for god's sake will you take it out and give it to me? ” Satoru's voice echoes in the dimly lit space and that's when he realizes he'd been shouting. Just like your father had been. It's deathly quiet then, just the soft buzz of a few fireflies dancing around the visible light.
He is breathing hard, gulping because he feels like he's choking. You're still on the floor and crying. Satoru did not want this.
You look so lost and pathetic, sitting on the cold bathroom tiles, trembling with suppressed sobs and fingers hooked under the pointed pen you stabbed your wrist with. He looks at you and you look heartbreakingly small. Satoru's anger leaves him in a moment.
“I'm sorry,” the white head says immediately, collapsing to his knees and gathering you into his arms. You don't move, just let your forehead rest on his shoulder like a limp mass and try to breathe.
“Fuck, I'm so sorry, babe,” he swallows, wrapping his arms tighter and feeling like the worst person in the world right now.
You stay there for a long time, minutes or hours or more, pressed against your boyfriend in the biting cold. You wonder how he's still keeping up with you. When you stop shaking, Satoru pulls back slightly to see your face.
You've definitely stopped crying but your eyes are no less of a void than before.
“Hey,” Satoru murmurs, and you lift your head a bit. He removes one arm from around you and places his hand on your cheek, still damp. Only then do you look at him, eyes confused, dazed. Your skin is soft with tears. Satoru feels like he has something incredibly precious in his arms, that's equally fragile.
He uses a thumb to wipe them up, leaning in so that your foreheads touch along with your nose. You blink.
“Let me? ” Satoru asks quietly, his warm palm around the silver metal pen forgotten in your hold. You swallow and nod, eyes still on Satoru's.
He pulls out the pen from your hand and places it behind him on the floor. “You don't need to hurt yourself,” Satoru says. “There are other ways.”
He has no idea whether you hear or even understand him.
“Stay over at mine,” Satoru says. He doesn't ask because he knows you won't answer him.
You both stand up and walk to his house. Your boyfriend holds your hand, which was unresponsive but warm.
When they get inside, Satoru's mom is at the island in the kitchen, leaning against the marble counter, reading something — presumably a philosophy book. She looks up as Satoru enters.
She stops when she notices you behind him, face scrunching into that of worry.
Satoru gives his mom the best 'don't ask' look which she being his mom, understands easily and nods.
“Let's go upstairs,” he tugs on your hand, and you trail behind the boy silently.
When you get into his room, Satoru offers you some of his clothes which you know will literally drown in just by looking at how big they look. He goes to the bathroom while you change, brushing his teeth and preparing for the bed. When he finishes, he comes out to see you standing in the middle of the room, scratching at your wrist. You look really small in his grey t-shirt and he finds the fact so adorable.
“Aren't you going to get into bed? ” Satoru says, and your head snaps up incredulously. Satoru, irrationally, blushes.
Yes, your little relationship hasn't gone much far yet.
“I'll sleep on the couch, don't worry,” he says quickly, nudging his chin at the fold-out he keeps in his room for when Geto & Shoko stay over after playing video games. “it's a pretty comfy couch. Don't have to think about me. And uh.. not that my bed's not comfy, 'cause it is. Everything's comfy.”
He regrets talking too much. Oh how he wishes to learn a technique that can close his big mouth.
He chuckles nervous and awkward and you get into his bed. You pull the covers over yourself, your line of shoulders still tense but he decides he can do nothing about that. He doesn't want to make you feel even more uncomfortable.
“G'night,” Satoru says, and turns off the light. He grabs a pillow and and lies down on the couch, tucking his blanket tightly around himself.
Now he can't really sleep, and judging by your odd breathing, neither can you.
“Satoru? ” You call out of nowhere, and it's so unexpected for him Satoru nearly falls off the side.
“Y-yeah? ” he replies.
Satoru's s heart is close to ripping out of his chest as his throat goes dry simultaneously.
“Do you still care? ” you ask after a pause. He doesn't say anything, so you elaborate for him in a more straight-forward way.
“Do you still like me? ”
“Yes ” he manages. It sounded more like a question, as if he expected you to go somewhere with that. Of course he still likes you, what were you thinking?
Satoru cranes his neck to look at you, whose posture under the covers seems to be more relaxed. He bites his lip on a smile.
A/N : they're still working on it :) feeling down? text me if a talk can help ♡ aaannddd! reblog if you enjoyed this hc! even likes are appreciated ^-^
P.S. : sorry if i did not make it clear what's up with the pen here, she used to stab herself with the pen on her wrist as a coping mechanism for her panic attacks (to ground herself!)
satoru’s back has freckles. you think it’s a shame they don’t litter across his cheeks too, but he’s beautiful all the same, wholly yours as the he lays on his stomach and sleeps while the sun kisses the marks of his skin.
“morning, toru,” you hum, greeting him even though he can’t hear you. it’s rare to wake up before him—but not as rare as him having a day off. you sigh, admiring the soft breaths he takes. one by one, in and out.
he’s pretty—it’s a fairly popular shared opinion. however difficult he might be, he’s always been pretty. your eyes fix on his cheek pressed against the pillow as he sleeps, an easy smile fitting on your lips.
“still drooling,” you chuckle, shaking your head as your thumb wipes at the edge of his lips. “what i’m going to do with you?”
it’s hard not to lean down and kiss him—once on his forehead, then a few times across his cheeks before a soft, delicate one to the corner of his parted lips. he stirs lightly, a soft sigh of content spilling before he seems to settle back to slumber.
satoru is a light sleeper. you think it comes with being on high alert as often as he is, but somehow, he always sleeps peacefully despite your movement. stays perfectly sound asleep even as you touch him and whisper hushed morning words you hope are lost by the birds chirping and the wind gushing outside. it’s your secret—just for you and the sleeping man beside you.
the world can grant you this one small, paused moment in time.
there’s streaks of lights pouring through the cracks of the blinds, like small slivers of honey trickling from the sun to meet his skin and sweeten it up for you. it’s glazed with the saccharine taste of warmth, like a spoonful of molasses down your throat. you can’t help but trace over the soft, delicate freckles along his skin, connecting them like they paint a picture.
it’s gentle, the way your fingers trails from his shoulder blades to the nape of his neck, down his spine and circling back up to stop midway. he shivers at your touch, goosebumps forming on the skin as he instinctively shuffles closer to look for the warmth of your body.
a strong arm wraps around your waist, his head finding your lap as he mumbles, “s’too early, baby.”
“sorry, sorry,” you chuckle, rubbing his back slowly, feeling the planes of his muscles as he hums appreciatively when you rake your nails soothingly over the skin. “go back to sleep.”
“can’t—” he cuts himself off with a tired yawn before he continues again, his voice a low croak filled with sleep. “—can’t sleep n’less you come back.”
“i’m right here, silly,” you snort, “you’re literally half on me.”
“well, come closer,” he grumbles. his arm pulls you closer, close enough that he can comfortably press his face into your belly and sigh happily as you chuckle, fingers threading through his hair and gently smoothing your nails over his scalp. “why’re you up? s’too early.”
“maybe because you hog the blanket,” you snort, eyeing the unused blanket pooled at his side of the bed. “i wake up cold every day.”
“m’enough to keep you warm,” he mumbles. he shifts until you’re entirely under him, his head tucking into the crook of your neck as his body blankets over yours. “better?”
realistically, satoru is comfortably slotted over your body for his own benefit than yours, but he seems happy enough that you’re willing to go along with his nonsense, giggling as you nod.
“much better,” you agree, “thanks for taking one for the team, baby.”
“any time, sweetness,” he says easily, smile bright enough that you think the sun might just dim through the window. “i’ll keep you warm like this every night too, if you want.”
“yeah?” you bite your lips, the smile fighting past your teeth and crawling all the way over to the apples of your cheeks, “you’d do that for me?”
“course,” he murmurs, “can’t let my baby be cold. gotta do whatever—” he’s interrupted himself with another yawn, “—whatever it takes.”
it’s like this, wrapped in his arms and swallowed whole by him, that you think life extends its arms to you, whispering for you to grasp onto its hands. it’s when you kiss his head and his breath hitches a little that it tangles its fingers with yours, pulling you along. it’s when he nuzzles into your neck, curls into you a little closer as you go back to tracing those freckles of his that you think you’ve clung onto living.
you think to love satoru is to be alive. he’s right there—one breath of air. one beat of your heart. and he’s always right there, right where you want him and need him to stay.
“should we get up?” you whisper, not wanting the birds or the wind to hear you just yet, hiding away from the sun as you steal a few more moments of the sweet, sugary taste of mornings and him.
“no,” he sinks deeper into you—if that’s even possible anymore. you think he’s part of you now, one limb attaching at a time until they start and end seamlessly. “s’too early, baby.”
reblogs appreciated!
ctrltoru — do not repost, translate, or plagiarize.
₊˚ʚ ☁️ ₊˚ ♡ ﾟ. content warnings ⤸ sfw. gojo satoru x afab!reader. the many ways your husband, satoru, makes your baby laugh is limitless.
while i don't mind ageless/minors interacting with my sfw posts, do NOT follow if you do not have your age in bio.
Babies are messy eaters; that's just a fact.
But imagine Satoru feeding your child in their high chair. Every piece of carefully cut food ends up in crude splatters that stay suspended in midair because of his Limitless... Which only makes your baby laugh harder, their cheeks glowing and nose scrunching... But also throw their food harder... Which is all fun and games until your baby tries it with you and they just end up making you look like a Pollock painting.
to no one's surprise, gojo knows almost everything.
for example, he knows that he's your best friend.
he knows that you like hanging out with him more than suguru (even when you fervently deny it), that you have to have your phone in your hand at all times or else you'll freak out, and that you prefer the smaller, simpler moments over grand ones. he knows that utahime's eyes look sharper and she looks happier because shoko gifted her a new eyeliner, and he also knows that toji's been working out because of the new girl that's in his math class, not because he's suddenly interested in leg day.
simply put, gojo knows everything about everyone.
"and then what'd she do?" he leans back on the bench, his finger flipping the pull tab on his soda cap as the wind scatters snowy air everywhere.
"we just talked afterwards," you shrug, staring at the other college students that are throwing snowballs at each other, "it was nice talking to her again, it's been a while."
"i bet. she's a fucking monster," he chortles before he takes a swig of his drink, guzzling down the lime soda like a starved man.
"oh!" your eyes brighten, and you look at him.
you can't help but burst out in laughter when you see his face, but you quickly compose yourself, keeping your smile in check, "she also said the funniest thing—she said that she thought you had feelings for me!"
his eyes widen in surprise, his jaw dropping ever so slightly. "that's wild."
"i know right?" you snicker, fixing your collar with your glove as puffs of vapor escape your lips. he joins you in raucous laughter over the hilarious misunderstanding, the chuckle bubbling up his lips at the notion of liking you as more than a friend.
"hahaha!"
"hahaha!"
his smile drops.
"suguru, what do i do?!"
his roommate lies on the couch with a bored look on his face, his fingers swiping across his phone screen as he plays candy crush.
"just confess."
"i confess that i want you to die."
"if it's between you being a miserable pain in my ass and satan, i'm choosing satan, dude."
gojo raises an eyebrow. "why are you just assuming you're going to hell?"
"because i've associated myself to you." geto's lips quirk up to a smile as he hits a combo, the rainbow array of colors blinding his eyes and almost (almost being the key word) distracting him from the white hedgehog across him.
"help me out first, and then die later. c'mon, don't be stingy!"
"i literally already gave you advice, just tell 'em how you feel."
"...one small problem with that."
"what?"
"i—" gojo opens and closes his mouth indignantly as he tries to explain his feelings in a way that won't make geto violently ill. he raises his eyebrows before he gives him a smile that's as innocent as possible, "well i actually don't know if i like them like that? it was an in-the-moment realization kind of thing, but i'm actually still a little confused—"
geto drops his phone on his face, a thwack! permeating through the small living room as his roommate makes a squeak in horror, kicking his feet against the leather chair he lies on.
"are you fucking serious?" geto sits up immediately, hissing as the pale red welt on his nose confidently becomes less pale, his flip phone pathetically flinging off his shoulder onto the couch, "they literally can't do anything without you, i saw them forget how to chew on rice because you left them on delivered for two minutes, and you're a useless brick if they aren't always in your sight! you two have the most unhealthy relationship i've ever seen!"
gojo crosses his arms, glaring, and geto sighs, rubbing his forehead in annoyance. "...respectfully, of course."
"talk shit about them again and i'll skin you alive. i'm serious."
"that's literally my point."
"that doesn't mean you get to be mean! take it back!"
geto bites the inside of his cheek, staring at him with beady eyes. "for being so fucking observant," he says slowly, "you know nothing."
"what's that supposed to mean?" gojo's eyes narrow, suddenly on the defensive.
"haibara's been eyeing them up lately, y'know," geto shrugs candidly, "i think he's gonna say something soon. who knows? it might even be today."
gojo stares gobsmacked at the man in front of him, his jaw on the floor as he formulates his friend's own words; geto can even see the exact moment the lightbulb goes off in his head, and like a robot, he stands up straight.
"suguru, i need to go! good luck on candy crush!"
"sharon from quebec ain't got nothing on me."
by the time he finishes the sentence, his friend has already left the front door wide open.
suguwu: don't make fun of him
(y/n): ???
suguwu: you'll see
the key to your apartment unlocks itself, and right on time, gojo slams the door wide open, sweating and panting like a bulldog.
"what's this—?" you can barely get the words out before gojo grabs your shoulders frantically, tilting his head to stare into your eyes.
"i like you." he says confidently, "i was fighting for my life arguing with suguru, and i'm not even gonna lie, he fucked with me a bit, but i came out with a clear head, and i know i like you. so don't date haibara, he's a cool guy and all, but he's not right for you. a-and honestly, you'd be in a three-way with his best friend if you were with him, and that sounds like a nightmare."
you have no idea who haibara is, but you stay silent to let him continue speaking. he was always the more talkative out of the two of you (he's also the warmer of the two of you, which is confusing because his hands feel like ice against your sweater).
his hands go from your shoulders to your arms, and he swallows. "i'm usually not stressed when i'm talking to you, y'know," he admits, rambling on, "normally i love talking to you and it makes me feel really good and free, but i honestly feel like i'm gonna puke right now."
"did you take the train here?"
"yeah."
"aw,'toru!" you soften instantly, placing your hand up to his cheek. he melts against your touch instantly, his jaw leaning into your skin as he lets out a sigh. you frown at his negligence, "you know the train hurts your stomach, why did you do that?"
"i just really wanted to see you." he pouts, "like i said, suguru was really fucking with me."
"i'm gonna murder him."
"please do."
"...and satoru?"
"hm?"
it's really cute, actually—how he's forgotten about his very mission when he came here. you suppose you can't blame him too much, he's just arrived from his magical chariot (the train) after slaying the dragon (fighting the urge to throw up on said train), and every prince deserves a reward for his troubles. gojo especially, deserves a happy ending, and you couldn't be more honored to give one to him.
"i like you too, just by the way. yuki may be a monster but her intuition is amazing; i was just about to take the train over to your place, actually!"
he gasps. "but the train hurts your stomach!"
you smile sheepishly. "i guess i just really wanted to see you."
his jaw drops for the tenth time today, and he pulls you into a tight hug (he can't help it, his heart feels so full right now), burying his head into your neck, murmuring against your shoulder. "i love you, i love you, i love—"
"i love you too." you smile because you do love him. he's been your best friend since grade school, your number one supporter since you were born, the man that you've admired before you knew what admiration was. "since you're here, wanna watch a movie?"
"absolutely!"
while he hums, cutting up fruit for your impromptu movie session, you take your phone out.
(y/n): i'll beat ur ass in candy crush if u come for satoru again
suguwu: ???
(y/n): you'll see 😐
justice for suguru 🗣️ inspired by but i like you by boynextdoor and villain w/ a crush :) NOT MY BEST WORK LMAO just something a little bit shorter to feed u until the wrio fic comes out!
Everyone has nightmares, but Gojo and Megumi are there for each other. This is NOT a ship fic. Little Megumi (assuming around 7-8, idk) + father figure Gojo. hurt/comfort, heavy on the comfort.
word count: just shy of 1k
masterlist
Gojo can see it all, no, he’s there again. Standing right over his one and only, his best friend, as he’s covered in blood and taking his last breaths. He can smell it, feel it, everything except move. He’s paralyzed and as much as he wants to reach out to hold Geto’s face in his hand as the life slips out of him, he can only stand and watch. He wants to say something—wants to do anything but no matter how hard he tries he just can’t.
A loud gasp escapes him as he sits straight up in bed, covered in sweat even though he’s thrown the covers away from him. It’s still dark out, and when he picks up his phone to check the time it’s only 2:56 a.m.
He sighs, wiping some of the sweat from his forehead as he takes in his surroundings. He’s in his bed, in his room, with the same pile of laundry in the corner that he’s been meaning to put away for days now. Everything is as it should be, but he still feels as if part of his soul was still in the dream. Or rather that it was still in that alley with Geto. Right before he killed him.
His thoughts are disrupted by a faint knock at his door. Shit, he thinks, he must’ve woken up the kids with his nightmare.
“Come in,” he mumbles, his throat still feeling a bit choked.
Megumi opens the door timidly, peeking his head through. His hair is more of a mess than usual and Gojo can see the sleepiness in his eyes.
“What’s going on, Megumi? You’re supposed to be asleep,” he says softly.
He’s partly expecting some snarky comment about how he’d been trying to sleep before being woken up by Gojo, but Megumi just takes a few steps closer to the bed, so that he’s standing next to Gojo.
“Couldn’t sleep,” the boy mumbles softly, rubbing his eyes.
Gojo looks at him for a moment, guilt shooting coldly up his spine. He knows he woke Megumi up, and he’ll feel even worse now if he can’t go back to bed.
“I’m sorry, Megs. C’mon, I’ll tuck you back in,” Gojo replies, pushing the blankets the rest of the way off his legs to stand up to take the boy back to his room.
Megumi grabs Gojo’s fingers to stop him, and Gojo looks back to see his wide, tired eyes looking up at him.
“What’s wrong, buddy?”
Megumi bites his lip for a moment before speaking softly, “I had a nightmare.”
Gojo’s eyes and heart soften at the boy’s admission. Megumi had always been more closed off, determined to figure everything out for himself, but it was times like this when Gojo was reminded that he was still a little boy.
Gojo sits on the end of his bed so that he’s closer to eye level with Megumi.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Megumi shakes his head slowly, and Gojo tries to think of what to do next. He never knew how hard it would be to take in the two kids, but especially now he felt helpless. He couldn’t even comfort himself after his own nightmares, but now he had to figure out what to do to help Megumi.
“You know, I have nightmares too sometimes,” Gojo says. He knows it doesn’t really help Megumi’s case, but it’s the only thing he can think to say.
Megumi just looks up at him, his eyebrows furrowed slightly.
“They really suck sometimes, especially when they feel real,” Gojo continues. “But, the good part is that they’re not real.” Anymore. “We wake up, and they’re gone.” Even though they haunt your every waking moment. “You’re very brave, Megumi. It’s hard to have nightmares and see things you don’t want to see or even think about, but they’re over now. Not forever, but they’re gone now.”
“Besides, there’ll be good dreams, too.” He thinks about the dreams of his childhood, before Toji happened and before Suguru left. “And even though those are just dreams, too, they’re nice. They can make you happy. But then we have to go back to real life, which can be just as scary as nightmares sometimes, huh? But they can also be just as good as those nice dreams, right? It’ll all pass, eventually.”
Megumi nods his head in understanding, processing what Gojo was telling him.
“Do you want me to go get you some water? Help you calm down some?” Gojo offers.
“Yeah,” he replies quietly. “But… Can I come with you?”
Gojo smiles at the boy before standing up again, “Sure. Let’s go.”
Megumi follows Gojo intot he kitchen like a shadow, silent but present. Gojo hands him the glass of water and watches sleepily as Megumi takes a few sips.
“Think you’re ready to go back to bed, now?” Gojo asks softly.
Megumi holds the water in his hands, taking another sip before murmuring something that Gojo can’t quite hear.
“Hm?”
“Could I…” Megumi stalls for a second. “Could I sleep in your bed? With you?”
Gojo feels his heart melt in his chest. Maybe he wasn’t so bad at this parenting thing.
He smiles at Megumi and ruffles his hair, “Sure thing. Let’s go.”
They both wake up in the morning peacefully, the nightmares having stayed away for the rest of the night. Megumi, at some point in the night, had curled up nearly on top of Gojo’s chest, and Gojo’s hand had fallen onto the boy’s back, keeping him safe from any harm that could come his way. Megumi couldn’t have known that Gojo had had a nightmare that same night, but Gojo thinks that maybe Megumi comforted him just as much as he’d tried to for Megumi.
them and their relationship mean the world to me, btw. hope this is okay, thx so much for reading <3 this possessed me and i just had to write it immediately.
