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@veyeruss
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･My name is Jade! ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
17 miserable years on this planet
Pronouns: she/her
You'll often see me posting my art and reblogging fanfics!
Multi fandom
My art fight user is Veyeruss
DNI: people who use generative ai (chatgpt, c.ai, etc)
To see my art without having to scroll, view the tag #⇢ ˗ˏˋ Jade's art࿐ྂ
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satoru loves listening to you, especially when your lips are against his. . .
the room is quiet enough that every little sound feels louder than it should— the soft rustle of blankets, and the tiny laugh that escapes you when satoru steals another kiss before you even finish your sentence.
“you know,” you mumble against his lips. “you should really listen to me right now.”
“i’m listening,” he replies, barely pulling away. his lips brush yours with every word. “you said i’m handsome.”
“i definitely didn’t.”
“no? must’ve imagined it.”
you roll your eyes, though he can’t really see it from how close you are. your noses bump together, and he smiles before giving you another slow, lazy kiss.
“you interrupted me again,” you say.
“m’sorry.. keep talking, sweetheart.”
another kiss.
“i’m trying to tell you,” you whisper, your lips still resting against his. “that we need groceries.”
“we’ll figure something out,” he hums thoughtfully, his breath warm against your face.
Artfight attack for Fentropy!
“hey, can i borrow your phone for a sec?” satoru asks, looping an arm over your shoulder. when you raise an eyebrow, he flashes that blinding smile. “wanna look up that new dessert shop in ginza. the one with the limited-edition parfaits? i’m taking you there the second i’m done kicking sukuna’s ass.”
typical satoru. prioritising his sweet tooth literally minutes away from the greatest battle in jujutsu history. you shake your head, a soft chuckle slipping past your lips as you hand over the device. he taps away furiously for a minute, tongue poking out slightly in concentration, before handing it back with a wink.
-
fast forward to your birthday.
your phone buzzes. it’s a scheduled text from your calendar:
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my favorite person in the entire world !!!! i love you so much. my baby girl (^_^)”
the bright text begins to blur into ugly neon dots as tears hit the glass. you try to wipe the screen, but the moisture keeps coming, smearing his words until you finally just give up. you wish with everything left in you that he was actually here to say it to your face, wearing that stupid, beautiful smile.
but he’s not here.
SYNOPSIS:
in which the men turn to the AITA subreddit for opinions on their relationship disputes. the comments aren't always the most...supportive
warnings: just fluff and crack, some cursing, some sexual language, prob not the most accurate depiction of reddit (I am not familiar with the platform so I did my best lol), non curse au mostly, NOT PROOFREAD (this was a pain to edit you don't even know so I don't want to hear it) featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna
CALL OUT POST AGAINST EDEN / @SWEETHEARTICISM
proceed at your own risk, since this post mentions eden's history of harassing people until they deactivate, sending death/rape threats, plagiarism, her history of writing incest, stepcest, rape, etc. do NOT @ or harass anyone who is tagged in this post, do you want to be just as bad as eden's goons? I didn't think so. This blog isn't associated with any blog linked below, I'm only a public writer for the bllk fandom. Not jjk.
Eden, sweethearticism, or satorusstupidgirl, or cherry, whatever you go by now, don't ignore this post as "anon hate" as I just want you to address and clear the room for these accusations. Everyone had room to grow from past mistakes, and that can be YOU TOO! Growing comes with TAKING ACCOUNTABILITY. Some of the things listed below are just speculations, but some things are PROVEN TO BE TRUE.
IF YOU HAVE ANY MORE INFORMATION ON THIS TOPIC, SEND AN ASK OR DM THIS BLOG. YOU WILL NOT BE NAMED IN THE UPDATES.
Her secret "dark" content side blog.
she, along with some of her mutuals like @/satorucest have secret side blogs where they post incest, rape, pedophilia content about the JJK characters. This is ALLEGED so far, as she has not admitted to this blog.
The blog in question is @satorusstupidgirl and was called out first on this post.
satoru gojo with a baby who looks exactly like you.
his genes didn't even try. not a speck of white in his baby girl's hair, not a sliver of crystal blue in her eyes. she's all you—from the eyes to the nose to the laugh. good lord, satoru has been blessed by the gods.
he fell in love with her the moment the doctor handed you the little bundle of joy. and when he first carried her? you just laugh at the way he almost melts to the floor.
everytime he gets home from missions, he goes straight to where you're playing with mini you. his daughter giggles upon seeing her dad. he crashes on top of the two of you, careful not to squish neither of you. first and foremost, he kisses you. then, the baby. then back to you, then back to her—it goes on and on until you go and tell him to shower.
at night when your daughter makes a fuss, it's satoru who gets up and soothes her. he carries her over to your shared room, lays her in the space between, and talks to her about anything—his latest mission, his students, her big brother megumi, how the two of you met, his bestfriend suguru, her uncle nanami, her aunt shoko.
all the while, his baby listens earnestly, eyes wide and curious like yours. she even responds sometimes! no, she can't talk yet, but she's already a good listener.
"maybe we should take you to see uncle suguru. do you miss him? who do you miss more, him or papa?"
"ah."
"there's only one answer to that. why are you hesitating?" he pokes her cheek, and holds back the urge to bite and chomp.
"ba.."
"papa? yes! that's right. you miss papa more, right?"
"ma!"
satoru gasps dramatically, "mama? you're already with her 24/7!" your baby grins, and he's in awe by how much of you he sees in her.
he picks her up with ease, and settles her on top of him. he glances at your sleeping form, "you look like your mom, you know?"
your baby also glances at you, one hand reaching out before satoru grabs her little wrist and holds it to his chest. "mama's sleeping. she's tired, we need to let her rest."
your daughter babbles, "ma-ma-ma."
"yes, mama. you look like mama. that means you're also pretty and beautiful." he kisses her cheek.
"pi. pi!"
satoru nods in understanding, acting like your baby just said something revolutionary. "yes. pretty. that's you," he pinches her nose, she huffs. "and mama. my pretty girls."
"when you grow up, you need to marry someone who'll preach your beauty like how i do to your mom, okay? never date a boy who doesn't tell you how beautiful you are every passing day." satoru whispers, eyes locked onto an identical pair to yours.
his daughter only yawns in response, dropping her head into his sternum. satoru adjusts her so she's laying on her back in the middle of you two. instinctively, your baby wiggles around, searching for your warmth in her sleep. satoru only sighs with a smile. what a velcro baby he's raising.
from jade: self-indulgent dad gojo fic bcuz im ovulating and im sleepy and i got crazy baby fever from spending a few days at my aunt's and her two month old baby boy and i also wrote this instead of stressing out over my groupworks so enjoy tehe
──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !! gojo loves using the “i’m married” card whenever he gets approached, because in his mind you guys are married.
the thing about being satoru gojo is that people look at him.
he’s used to it by now— the double takes, the whispered gossip, the way strangers feel entitled to his attention just because he happens to be tall and white-haired and annoyingly beautiful(so he’s been told). it’s exhausting, honestly, but he’s learned to deal with it over the years.
the second her manicured fingers land on satoru’s forearm, he knows exactly what’s coming.
he’s seen this script a hundred times. the coy smile, the slight tilt of the head, the way her lashes flutter like she’s got something in her eye. he’s been fielding these approaches for years, long before you came along, and he’s got it down to a fine art now.
“sorry,” he says, before she can even get a word out. “i’m married.”
the lie rolls off his tongue as easily as breathing. it’s not even really a lie, not in his head. you’re his girlfriend, yes, but you’re also the one. the endgame. the person he’s going to annoy for the rest of his natural life and probably well beyond that if he figures out how. in his mind, you’ve already got the ring, the shared last name, the matching toothbrushes in the bathroom. the paperwork is just a formality.
the woman’s face falls slightly, but she’s persistent. he’ll give her that. “oh, i don’t see a ring—”
“left it at home,” he says smoothly, already starting to edge away. “wife’d kill me if i lost it.”
he does have a ring. it’s just that it’s still sitting in the expensive jewellery shop that you always stare at when you guys pass by. he’s been meaning to go in and custom-make one that’s been appearing in his mind lately, one that would be unique and fitting only for you, but there’s no rush and the right moment just hasn’t shown up yet, because every time he looks at you, his brain short-circuits and he forgets how words work.
but that’s a problem for future satoru.
right now, present satoru is trying to escape this conversation without being rude, because you’re waiting for him in the car, most likely dozing off against the window with that cute pout on your lips.
he’s reaching for the strawberry milk with the cute cow on it, when he hears the click of heels behind him.
“excuse me?”
satoru doesn’t even turn around. his hand closes around the bottle anyway. “married,” he says, tossing it into his basket.
“oh! i—i wasn’t—”
“very married. disgustingly married. my wife is the most beautiful woman in the world and i think about her constantly.” he finally glances over his shoulder, offering a bland smile. “sorry.”
the woman blinks at him, then laughs nervously and retreats toward the chips aisle.
satoru turns back to the fridge, satisfied. it’s not even a lie anymore, not really. you’ve been his girlfriend for two years, and somewhere along the way— maybe when he watched you fall asleep on his couch with your glasses askew, or when you sent him a photo of a cat you saw on the street with the caption him, or when you laughed so hard at your own joke that you choked on water— he stopped thinking of you as just a girlfriend.
you’re his wife. you just don’t know it yet. there’s paperwork to do, and a ring to buy, and a question to ask, but in his head? you signed the papers months ago.
he grabs another bottle of milk because you like the chocolate one too, and heads to the checkout, basket swinging from his wrist. the cashier gives him an interested look but he only looks at you through the transparent doors that open and close, smiling when he sees you rubbing your eyes through the window and looking around sleepily.
.
.
.
the first thing satoru notices is that the afternoon sun is hitting just right against your hair, making it look like something out of a painting. the second thing he notices is the woman approaching.
he clocks her immediately— the way her eyes flick to him, the subtle once-over, the way she angles her body toward his. he’s seen this movie a hundred times. hell, he’s starred in it a hundred times.
“excuse me,” she says, all polite smile and batted lashes. “i’m so sorry to bother you, but i just had to say—you have the most stunning eyes i’ve ever seen.”
satoru feels you stiffen slightly beside him. your hand, which had been loosely linked with his, tightens just a fraction. he wants to squeeze back, to reassure you, but he’s also kind of… curious. because usually, when this happens, he’s alone. he gets to play his little game where he flashes an imaginary wedding ring and says sorry, i’m married with a soft, stupidly fond smile that he practices exclusively for the version of you that lives in his head.
but you’re right there and he’s never had to play that card with you within earshot before.
“oh,” he says, tilting his head. his glasses slip down his nose just enough for him to peer over them. “thanks.”
the woman takes the lack of immediate rejection as encouragement. “i don’t usually do this, but i was wondering if maybe you’d like to grab a coffee sometime? there’s a great place just around the corner—”
“no can do,” satoru interrupts, his voice softening at the edges. he feels your hand twitch again. “i’m married.”
the word hangs in the air. married. he’s said it a thousand times to strangers, to cashiers, to that one persistent guy at the bookstore who wouldn’t take a hint. but never like this, never with you standing right there by his side.
you go very still.
the woman blinks, glances at your interlocked hands, then back at his face. “oh. i’m sorry, i didn’t see a ring—”
“don’t need one,” he says simply, he’s not even looking at her anymore. he’s looking at you, at the way your lips have parted slightly, at the confusion and tenderness flickering across your face. “some things you just know.”
there’s a beat of silence. the woman mutters an apology and retreats. satoru doesn’t watch her go. he’s too busy watching you stare up at him like he’s grown a second head.
“married?” you repeat, your voice going breathy like it does when you’re trying not to laugh but also trying not to cry.
“well, yeah,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. he brings your joined hands up and presses a kiss to your knuckles, right there in the middle of the sidewalk. “i mean, not legally. yet. but in my head? you’ve had the ring for like eight months now. it’s very sparkly. you look great in it.”
you blink at him once, twice, and then you make a sound that’s half-giggle, half-gasp, shoving at his chest with your free hand. “satoru! you can’t just tell strangers we’re married!”
“why not?” he grins, bright and boyish and entirely unrepentant. “it’s gonna happen eventually. i’m just saving time.”
“you’re insane.”
“insanely in love, maybe.”
you groan, burying your face in his shoulder, and he feels you smile against his shirt. your ears are pink. he wants to bite them.
“you’ve been doing this the whole time?” you mumble into his collarbone. “every time someone flirts with you?”
“every. single. time.” he wraps his free arm around your waist and pulls you closer, resting his chin on top of your head. “you’re my wife in every way that matters. the government just doesn’t know it yet.”
you pull back just enough to look at him, and there’s something in your eyes that makes his chest ache— all shimmery and wondering, like you’re seeing him for the first time. you smile, small and private, and tug his sleeve. “c’mon, husband. my show starts in ten.”
he word husband hits him right in the stupid chest like a truck made of flowers.
he follows you out, already planning the ring. already knowing exactly what it’ll look like. already halfway down on one knee in his head.
you don’t know any of that, not yet. but you said it and now he’s never letting you go.
🏷️ taglist: @ethezreal @astutetwilight @unforgivemn @sunnydayqq @lalawlrd @koral-pink @secretsofchance @raendarkfaerie @kingraspberry12-blog @xznyana @leftrightgn @indom-itus @ihatemynewbangs @eilishsgf @satorukitsunee @chewiebee
satoru doesn’t realize just how tall he is. . . "( – ⌓ – )
tall boyfriend perks are really good.
he reaches everything. top shelves, high cabinets, that one lightbulb you swore you’d get to later— done in seconds, no stool needed.
he doubles as your personal ladder and your built-in heater. you’re basically wrapped in a walking blanket 24/7.
but the cons?
he takes up space without meaning to, and the fact he already loves manspreading whenever doesn’t help at all.
it’s as if everything has gotten smaller. that’s the only logical explanation. because there’s no way one man should be able to take up this much space.
“baaabe,” you whine, shoving at his shoulder. “move.”
a sleepy hum is your only response. one long arm tightens around your waist, dragging you back against him like you haven’t just spent the last five minutes trying to wiggle free.
“you’re warm,” he mumbles into your hair, voice thick with sleep. “stay.”
“i’m gonna fall off the bed. you’re literally on my side.”
this is your life— losing every nightly battle for mattress territory, practically kicked out of your bed simply because he can’t keep his limbs to himself.
a frustrated groan slips out before you give up, finally managing to slip out from his hold. he shifts, reaching instinctively for you, but you’re already gone, padding out of the bedroom and collapsing onto the couch.
it lasts exactly ten minutes.
you wake up once more to something heavy pressing into your back.
“…you’ve got to be kidding me.”
behind you, half-folded onto a couch that is very much not built for a grown man his size, satoru has somehow wedged himself in, arms wrapped tightly around you.
“you left,” he murmurs, nuzzling into your shoulder without opening his eyes.
“because you took over the entire bed.”
“mm.. sorry.”
“and now you’re taking up the entire couch as well.”
he hums again, clearly unconcerned, and pulls you even closer— if that’s somehow possible.
you try to twist around to glare at him, but his grip only tightens, his legs tangling with yours until escape is officially impossible.
“mooove.”
“don’t wanna,” he shoots back, a lazy grin tugging at his lips even in the dark.
you sigh, defeated, resting back against him.
currently thinking about husband!gojo who wants nothing more than to look like superman in the eyes of his pretty little wife <3
it’s not like gojo loves helping out around the house, but the awestruck look you give him when he fixes the loose floorboard in the upstairs attic is its own reward. it’s not like gojo loves helping out around the house, but the way you gasp and clutch his bicep when you wake up to find your microwave is suddenly fixed is quite literally its own reward. satoru thinks you’re so damn cute; truth be told, it took him three youtube videos & a reddit thread to do both but who said his pretty little wife needed to know that ?
you get especially amazed when gojo faces anything that has to do with electricity. when the power went out while you were cooking in the kitchen, you yelped like you had just seen a ghost. satoru was by your side only a minute later, phone flashlight in hand. he kisses your head with soft lips & tells you to stay right there because ‘don’t worry baby, your husband’s got it covered.’
minutes later he’s in the basement with a toolbox & you’re waiting for him at the top of the stairs, too scared to go down to the dim lit basement. more sooner than later the power comes back on, and excitedly you’re running down to join your husband who stands beside the power box, a smug grin plastered across his face.
“toru, you’re amazing ! how did you do that ?!”
gojo kisses your forehead. “didn’t i tell you not to worry, sweetheart ? it’s a bit complicated so don’t stress about it, alright ?”
truth be told, the circuit breaker had simply tripped off so all he had to do was flip a couple switches, reddit thread in hand—but once again, his pretty little wife didn’t need to know that.
HEARTKAJI. do not steal, copy, edit, translate or reupload.
rewrite of my old hq drabble <3
satoru never leaves without properly bidding his wife goodbye ♡
you learned early that loving him means sharing him with the world.
no one really warns you about that part. they talk about danger, about responsibility, about how busy he is. but they don’t talk about the quiet. they don’t talk about how heavy it feels standing in the doorway, watching him leave again.
satoru stands there now, half-turned already, like he belongs more to the outside than he does to this house.
“you’re leaving already?” you ask, even though you already know.
“mm,” he hums. “quick mission. i’ll be back before you even miss me.”
you frown a little. “i already miss you.”
that makes him smile.
he steps closer, like it’s instinct, like there’s something pulling him back just as much as the world pulls him away. his hand comes up to your face, thumb brushing your cheek so gently it almost hurts.
“you’re making it hard to leave,” he murmurs.
“good.”
he laughs softly at that, and then he leans in, pressing a kiss to your lips— it’s warm. familiar. but not nearly long enough.
he pulls back just slightly.
“…one more?” he asks.
you sigh, but your fingers are already gripping his uniform. “you say that every time, but it’s never just one.”
“..please, baby?”
“c’mere.”
and with that he kisses you again, slower this time, like he’s got all the time in the world even though you both know he doesn’t.
when he pulls away, he doesn’t go far.
“…okay, now i’ll go.”
you don’t let go just yet.
“..toru.”
“mhm?”
“be careful.”
there’s a small pause, barely there, but you feel it.
“always am,” he says, and he squeezes your hand.
“okay, seriously,” he says, not moving. “now i’m going.”
you raise a brow. “are you?”
“…just one more—”
“satoru.”
he grins, completely unashamed. “last one. promise.”
you sigh again, but you lean in anyway— because this is how it always goes.
because every “last kiss” is just him trying to hold onto something soft before he walks back into something dangerous— and you need it as much as he does.
this time, when he pulls away, he actually steps back.
“…i’ll come back to you,” he says, quieter now.
you nod. “you better.”
he lingers for a second longer, like he’s thinking about staying, but he doesn’t, instead he turns toward the door.
“…hey.”
you look up— and even with the blindfold on, you can feel his eyes on you.
“miss me properly, okay?”
you huff out a small laugh. “get out already, so you get it over with faster.”
when he eventually leaves, you can’t help feeling a little lonely— but just as you’re about to walk back, the door swings open.
“i forgot something.”
you blink. “oh? what is it—”
before you can finish, he’s already back in front of you, hands on your face, stealing one more quick kiss, soft and bright and completely necessary for his heart.
“…that,” he says, satisfied.
you look at him. “seriously?”
“can’t help it. just wanna stay home with my pretty wifey.”
he leans in, presses one last, tiny kiss to the tip of your nose this time.
“okay, now i’m really going.”
“c’mon.” you point toward the door. “you’ve got responsibilities.”
after wrapping you into a quick hug, he finally slips out for real.
and this time, when the door closes, you think that maybe waiting for him might not feel so bad after all.
everytime i try to write for someone else it just ends up being gojo anyway…（´∇｀'' )ゞ
Cold feet — Satoru Gojo
pairing: bf!Satoru Gojo x reader synopsis: your boyfriend won't stop touching you with his icy cold feet while cuddling despite your protests... cw: none, fluff, gn!reader, established relationship wc: 1k art creds: @/momoya348 on twitter Gojo masterlist
You sat down on your side of the bed with a small sigh, toeing your slippers off.
Satoru, on the other side, was already lying down. And although you couldn’t see him, you knew he was currently pouting up at you.
“Hurry, I’m tired.” He whined.
You roll your eyes. “Go to sleep then.”
“I can’t yet. I need you with me.” He scooted closer, patting your pillow.
A chuckle escapes you as you look back at him over your shoulder. “What are you, five?”
He gives you a small glare, although it doesn’t last long at the sight of you with your disheveled hair and pajamas, smiling at him. You looked so beautiful to him. “Just get in bed.”
thinking about butterfly kisses with satoru ꒰ᐢ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ᐢ꒱⸒⸒
“i wish i had lashes like yours, toru.”
you sigh like he’s committed some sort crime. maybe, in your defense, he has— no one should be allowed to look that pretty without even trying. especially not your boyfriend, who already has enough going for him.
and yet there he is, lounging like a cat next to you, one arm thrown lazily over your shoulder, the other tapping at his phone. his blindfold is off, pushed up into his snowy hair, and those stupidly long lashes could as well brush his cheeks every time he blinks.
“mm? what brought this on?” his tone is airy, teasing— he knows exactly what he’s doing.
you scoot closer, narrowing your eyes at him. “they’re longer than mine. it’s not fair.”
now that gets his attention.
satoru tilts his head, bright blue eyes locking onto yours, amusement already blooming in them. “are you jealous of my eyelashes?”
“obviously.“ you cross your arms. “why do you get lashes like that for free? i have to suffer with mascara and you just wake up like that.”
then he laughs.
not just a chuckle, a full, obnoxious, head-tilting-back kind of laugh that makes his shoulders shake. “that’s a new one,” he grins, leaning in closer. “out of all the things to envy about me…”
“don’t push it,” you mutter.
his smile softens— just a little, just enough that it isn’t teasing anymore. “c’mere,” he murmurs.
you don’t question it. you never really do with him.
phone long forgotten, his hand comes up to cradle your cheek, thumb brushing lightly under your eye as he guides your face closer to his. your noses bump first, then your foreheads.
one of your hands come to rest on top of his thigh— and then you feel it, the faint brush of his lashes before anything else.
soft and ticklish. and then he blinks, slowly.
his lashes flutter against yours, a delicate, feathery sensation that makes you squirm and giggle under your breath. instinctively, you do it back. closing the distance just enough, blinking against him, your lashes tangling in the strangest, softest way.
it’s kinda ridiculous. and yet— you do it again. and so does he.
a quiet little rhythm forms, nothing but the faint brush of lashes and the occasional stifled laugh between you.
“you’re weird,” you whisper, though your voice betrays you with a smile.
“so mean,” he shoots back instantly.
you pause for a moment, lashes still brushing his.
“…this is kind of nice.”
his grin widens, impossibly pleased. “thought so.”
and then he leans just a fraction closer— enough to steal a proper kiss this time, slow and warm and entirely smug.
“still jealous,” you mumble against his lips.
“mm,” he hums. “you can keep complaining.”
his lashes flutter against yours again, softer this time.
“in my eyes, you’re still the prettiest.”
even in the afterlife, satoru still has a hold on you
two years after satoru's death, you were still stuck. you were suspended somewhere in between moving forward and barely holding on. the letter he left for you when the day finally came still sat on your dresser, untouched. it felt heavier than it looked, like it was watching you, waiting. you refused to open it, painfully aware of what it would do to you. opening it would undo everything—the slow, careful work you put into rebuilding yourself from nothing.
people loved to talk about the five stages of grief like they were checkpoints, like you could just move through them if you tried hard enough. you’d gotten stuck on two: denial and depression, looping endlessly. acceptance felt impossible. it meant admitting, fully and finally, that he was gone. and you couldn’t do that. you didn’t want to. as stupid as you sounded, holding the small parts of him you still had left kept him alive in a way.
his sunglasses sat in your nightstand drawer. sometimes, on quieter days, you’d put them on and let yourself pretend. it always brought you back to the beach—to that one perfect afternoon. you could still take yourself back to it if you tried hard enough: the sand slipping between your toes, the warmth of the sun on your skin, the breeze tugging at your hair. and satoru laughing, bright and loud, crouching beside his absurdly large sandcastle.
a kid had come out of nowhere, eyes wide as saucers.
“did you make that?” he asked, pointing at the castle and the ridiculous moat satoru had just finished.
“you know it!” satoru grinned, ruffling his hair like they’d known each other forever.
the two ran off to make an even bigger one than before, declaring you as their official judge/photographer. the photo was tucked away in your wallet, edges a bit worn from clutching to your chest folding it carefully multiple times. both of their eyes sparkled, satoru's usually pale skin slightly tanned. you'd give up everything to relive that day again. just once.
his blindfold was tied loosely around your favorite stuffed animal, the fabric slightly frayed now. that day he had won it for you at the local fair was the day he stopped wearing it around you.
“i want to make eye contact with you,” he’d said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.
all you could do was look away, flustered at his gesture.
“but doesn’t it overwhelm you?” you’d asked quietly. “and make you tired?”
he shrugged. "yeah, but it's worth it."
then he leaned in, close enough that you felt his breath before his words.
"you're worth it."
everything shifted after that.. he started turning off his infinity around you, too—just in case you wanted to pull him closer. just in case you needed him.
the bottle of his cologne still sat on his nightstand. you never moved it. when his pillow finally lost his scent, you started spraying it onto your pillow so your dreams could be filled with him. it just enough to trick yourself, just enough to blur the line between memory and dream. it was the sweetest kind of torture, sleeping as much as you could so you could be with him. in your dreams, he was still there. still laughing, still warm, still yours.
and then you'd wake up.
and it would hit you all over again: cold, sharp, unforgiving. the empty space beside you. the silence. the way everything felt just a little too big without him in it.
it was a cycle. a painful, deliberate one. but in some sick, twisted way, it worked. because in your dreams, he was still there. still laughing, still warm, still yours.
the space he left behind was too noticeable to bear when it stayed empty.
so instead, you filled it the only way you could,
by finding him again, night after night, in your dreams
a/n: some satoru angst to ease the pain?! thank u to @newpersonsameoldmistakez for this request!!! i missed writing angst
Shinjuku Showdown 🥊
Chuuya <3
