raeyn's attempts at writing

Spa day for both of us🫵😾

and for the kids too

when you're abroad for an internship and he's starting to lose it

"so like, do you ever wish you were taller?"

You had to hold your own breath to stop yourself from laughing, watching your boyfriend gojo satoru halt his entire self. He was peacefully preparing some food in the kitchen, before pausing at your question. Knife mid chop, body stiff like a statue. You swear that he even stopped breathing for duration of time.

A few beats pass, and Satoru puts down everything in his hands. He's still facing away from you, but you can only imagine his face right now. Your boyfriend steadily turns his head to your spot in the living room, which reminds you of how owls slowly turn their heads. He finally breaks the silence.

"I.. w-what?"

He. fucking. stammered.

Somehow by the strength of God alone, you maintain a straight face.

"You know, have you ever imagined having some extra inches in height?"

Your gaze meets his, and his sharp blue eyes are absolutely unreadable. In less than a second, Satoru strides to stand right in front of you. While you may not necessarily be the shortest or tallest, Satoru always towered over you.

Your boyfriend, and his six foot three/190 cm tall person, towering over your own figure.

"Baby..." he speaks, voice low and steady, "what, and I mean, the absolute fuck do you mean by 'do I wish I was taller'???"

Screwing with him was too easy, it almost makes you feel bad.

Almost.

"I dunno, I was just thinking what if you were a bit taller? Like maybe if you were as tall as Nanami?" You smirk fully knowing that Nanami was just short of Satoru's height.

All hell breaks loose.

"WhAT??! No, no no no! First off, I AM tall. I don't need to be 'taller'. Also, the fuck? Nanami is shorter than me. SHORTER.THAN.ME. Here, look at this picture of us. See, he's shorter. Look see-"

The gates holding back your amusement breaks, and you let out the most boisterous laugh. Full on cry laughing. In between your feats of laughter, you manage out some broken words of "I was joking" "you make it so easy" "you don't need any more height to you".

Satoru is watching you lose it, before realizing that you had just successfully baited him.

Well, two can play that game.

Before you can process, Satoru picks you up, throwing you over his shoulder. You flail and kick your legs in his hold, before he lands a nasty smack! on your ass.

"'Toru- where are we- why are we going to our room???"

You can't see, but Satoru has the meanest smirk on his face.

"Hmm? I might not be taller, but I'll show you where those extra inches went too."

You really should rage bait Satoru more often.

a/n : inspired by me rage baiting my guy friends about their height (I have 5'1 ft /155 cm

the people sitting at the table behind you go dead silent. you choke on your drink, before slamming the glass down.

“oh my god, satoru—”

“what?!” he reels back, genuinely affronted, eyes glassy but still piercing in that glacial blue. “what, i can’t admire my own girlfriend in public now? society’s gone to shit.” one hand drifts down your thigh, his idea of subtlety. it isn’t. especially when he adds, sotto voce, “fuck, you’re hot. i’m so har-”

that’s when the bartender leans in, grim.

“miss… is this man harassing you?”

you drag a hand over your face. “…no. he’s my boyfriend.”

to make matters infinitely worse, said boyfriend points at you with righteous conviction, beaming with tipsy pride.

“boyfriend!” he hollers to the room. “can you believe this angel-” he gestures so wildly he nearly knocks over his drink, “is dating me? me! do you guys understand how mind-blowing—”

“satoru gojo. behave.”

he nearly topples off the stool, then promptly buries his face against your neck, mumbling hotly, “’m gonna put a fat ring on your finger. how’s that sound? me as your sexy, super-powerful husband—” already trying to sneak his hand back up your thigh.

then vs now

you're going to ibiza for a girls holiday. gojo is NOT okay.

satoru thinks heartbreak should be illegal. specifically, this heartbreak- the one where his girlfriend is about to board a flight to ibiza with shoko and the rest of her friends while he stays home to rot like yesterday’s milk.

you’re attempting to cram your sunglasses into an already overstuffed carry on when he flops onto your bed behind you with the grace of a man who’s just been shot. he doesn’t just flop, he bounces twice, then rolls over dramatically until his face is buried in your blanket.

"whyyyyy are you doing this to meeeeee," he mumbles, voice muffled in your pillow. "what did i do. name one war crime i committed to deserve this." you flick him on the forehead. he doesn’t even flinch, just cracks one icy blue eye open to watch you wrestle with your zipper.

"stop being so dramatic," you say, fighting a smile. "it's a weekend, satoru. three days."

"three days is seventy two hours," he corrects you, flinging an arm out for maximum tragedy. "do you know how many minutes that is? do you know how many times we'll need to facetime just so i can stay alive?"

at this point in your relationship, he's long past pretending not to be clingy. right now, his hair’s a mess, his shirt is half untucked from where he’s been crawling around your floor in protest, and you’d bet good money that if you tried to actually drag your suitcase out the door, he’d just cling to the handle and let himself be wheeled along like luggage extension.

outside, shoko honks the car horn. three short threatening beeps. she's been ready for twenty minutes.

"satoru!" she yells through the window. "get off her!"

he ignores her completely- too busy rolling onto his stomach so he can grab you around the hips, chin digging into your thigh like he’s anchoring you to the floor.

"you're gonna meet some european dj with a man bun then you’re gonna come back saying stuff like ‘babe, the ocean changed me.’ and then i'll have to join a monastery." he whines dramatically.

you snort, patting his head like a sulky cat. "you'd get kicked out of a monastery in two minutes."

outside, shoko honks again. you glance at your phone- four unread texts from her that say i'm leaving you here if he tries to climb in my trunk.

when you finally manage to zip your bag and drag it toward the door, he scrambles after you on his knees. before you can even slip your shoes on, he’s wrapped himself entirely around your legs from behind, arms locked like a vice around your thighs, cheek smushed against your lower back.

"satoru-" you try, exasperated. you tug forward an inch. he drags with you like a six foot weighted blanket, feet sliding across the floorboards.

"try leaving now," he says, voice muffled, clinging tighter. "try it. see what happens. i'm part of the outfit now."

"are you done?"

"never."

eventually, you have to bribe him off with three kisses, a promise to text him when you land, and the threat of shoko physically dragging him out of the doorway by the hair.

when you finally manage to peel him off you long enough to escape to the door, he stumbles after you in his socks, hair sticking up everywhere. he dramatically plants himself in the hallway like a guard dog who failed obedience school.

"i'm gonna spam you," he threatens, pointing a finger at you like you’ve committed a crime. "you're gonna regret this. i'm gonna send you so many sad selfies you’ll have to turn your phone off. you did this to yourself."

"can't wait," you laugh, leaning in to kiss him just to shut him up.

and when you land in ibiza, your phone connects to the airport wi-fi before the wheels even finish taxiing, and immediately you’re hit with a barrage of notifications that make shoko side eye you over her sunglasses.

38 unread messages
9 missed calls
4 instagram stories tagged with your handle

you open them in order of damage control. the first story is a dramatic black and white close up of gojo’s face, half buried in your pillow, captioned, when your reason for living leaves you for a european man bun 🕊️💔

the next is even worse. he’s lying on your side of his bed, dramatically clutching the shirt you forgot to pack. the caption reads, i put on her perfume to remember what happiness smelled like.

you snort so hard you nearly drop your phone on the moving walkway. shoko just flicks your arm. "i'm confiscating your phone if you laugh at him again. he's training you to enable this."

you ignore her. the third story is the worst. gojo in full grayscale filter, standing in your apartment wearing your fuzzy pink slippers. marvins room playing in the background.

he zooms in on the slippers with the caption, stepping into her role since she stepped out of my life.

you cover your face with one hand. "he's so stupid. should i just block him?"

shoko hums, pulling her suitcase along. "no. let him suffer. it's free entertainment."

you try to pocket your phone. a mistake. another ping. he's texted you forty more times since you opened the app.

toru: have you landed???
toru: did you get kidnapped by ibiza pirates???
toru: i’m outside the airport
toru: JK but i would be if nanami didn’t physically tackle me
toru: you know what
toru: i’m buying a ticket right now
toru: you think i won’t?
toru: you think i won’t show up in a speedo and ruin a girls trip???
toru: i would look so good in a speedo
toru: send feet pics
toru: ok JK but for real call me when you see this
toru: ૮(˶ㅠ︿ㅠ)ა
toru: that’s the face i’m making rn

you can practically see him pacing around your apartment, wearing your slippers and sniffing your hoodie like a love struck puppy with abandonment issues.

you facetime him while you wait for your bags. it rings once. once. he picks up like he’s been standing there, phone in hand, ready to pounce.

"BABY!" he's way too loud- the echo of your empty apartment behind him, your pillow in his arms like a hostage. "did you land? are you safe? are the ibiza men uglier than me?"

you roll your eyes. "yes, yes, and yes."

he gasps. "you didn’t even look yet. you can’t know that for sure-"

"i know," you say sweetly. "nobody’s prettier than you, toru."

he beams like you just handed him the winning lottery ticket. "ughhh. say it again." shoko rips the phone out of your damn hand.

"satoru. shut up. she’ll text you later." she hangs up before he can protest, then tosses your phone back at you like it’s infected.

sure enough, by the time you’re in the hotel lobby, his stories have doubled. one's a video of him sitting at nanami's desk wearing sunglasses inside, captioned the sun doesn’t shine when she’s gone. another is just his hand dramatically pressed against the window with thinking about her.

when you finally text him that you miss him too, he replies in half a second.

toru: I KNEW IT
toru: you love me more
toru: i’m making a powerpoint about it
toru: sending u slides later
toru: enjoy ur trip baby 🩷🩷🩷

three days later, you come home with salt in your hair and a mild sunburn on the bridge of your nose, dragging your suitcase through arrivals while shoko threatens to abandon you at baggage claim if you don’t buy her a coffee first. you’re halfway through customs when your phone lights up again.

toru: where are you😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

you don’t even bother replying, because the moment you clear the sliding doors into the arrivals hall, you spot him instantly. there’s no not spotting him. he’s tall enough to block out the overhead sign, standing dead center with his sunglasses on.

but he’s not alone. flanking him like two deeply uncomfortable bodyguards are yuji and megumi, each gripping one corner of the same massive piece of torn cardboard scrawled in permanent marker.

'WELCOME HOME BABY (no ibiza djs allowed)'

there's even a sad doodle of a little crying stick figure labeled 'me' with a huge speech bubble that says 'DON’T LEAVE AGAIN.'

yuji’s beaming at every passerby like this is the highlight of his week. megumi is staring at the floor like he wants it to open up and swallow him entirely. and you? you stop in your tracks. shoko wheezes behind you, chokes on her iced coffee, and mutters, "no way. no. he's your problem now," before speed walking off to the taxi stand.

satoru spots you immediately. like a guard dog with perfect senses and no shame. he nearly drops the sign in his rush to get to you, barking an order over his shoulder- "hold it up straight, yuji- megumi, c’mon-" slipping through the sea of families and luggage carts until he’s practically skidding to a stop in front of you.

"you’re here,"!he breathes, like you didn’t just spend the whole weekend texting him hourly updates and proof of life selfies.

you try-try-to keep a straight face. "what's with the sign?"

yuji yells, "it was his idea!" at the same time megumi mutters, "can we go home?"

gojo pouts like you kicked a puppy. "you abandoned me. it's my legal right to embarrass you at least once." then he throws his arms around you so hard he nearly knocks you backward over your suitcase- picks you up a few inches off the grimy airport floor like you’re a carry on bag he plans to personally smuggle home.

he's warm, expensive aftershave and the faint cling of your own shampoo from his mourning routine.

"i missed you so much." he says into your hair. "i was so brave while you were gone. so strong. so stoic."

"you spammed me fifty memes about dying alone," you mumble into his jacket.

"stoic," he corrects, and when he sets you down, he cups your face like he needs to confirm you’re real. thumb brushing the sunburn on your nose, grin so wide it’s blinding.

"you're never leaving again," he says, so sweet you almost don’t notice the tiny edge underneath. "next trip? i'm coming too. i'll pack my speedo."

you flick his forehead. he pretends it hurts as you both giggle.

behind him, yuji's still dutifully holding the sign high for everyone to see and megumi's giving you a deeply apologetic look.

and as gojo drags your suitcase toward the exit for you, cardboard sign tucked proudly under yuji's arm now like a trophy, you catch a glimpse of what he scribbled on the back.

'IBIZA MEN, IF YOU’RE READING THIS: STAY AWAY FROM MY GIRLFRIEND.- LOVE, HER BOYFRIEND. 6’3. LIMITLESS CURSE ENERGY.'

you can mix together the jjk and bnha men for this one, i’m interested in seeing both ^^

could you maybe do one where reader randomly asks if their s/o still loves them? like they had a nightmare that said otherwise and they’re just making sure

love your writing by the way!!

idc if this is ooc sometimes you need your favs saying ily 😔 i tried to stay short and cute for this 🖤

⋆✦ Megumi, Yuji & Toge

↠ pairing: fushiguro megumi x gn!reader

↠ words: 2.3k // warning: megumi melt mush prepare yourself

↠ synopsis: the three ways you find megumi pretty and the three ways you find out you like him and he likes you. (OR reader just staring at megumi’s eyelashes, hands, and mouth 🥹 and megumi going from 😐 to 😵‍💫🤭🫤)

↠ tags: fluff, v fluff, friends to lovers, mutual pining, slight crack at end

↠ a/n: (1) this fic is just me going on about how pretty megumi is sorry not sorry (2) i haven't written in a while/consistently hopefully this is coherent

fushiguro megumi is pretty.

pretty, pretty, pretty.

he is pretty in many and in all ways to you, but he is prettiest in three.

i. his hands are pretty.

the breeze that stirs the grass feels almost as light as your feet on the ground as you twist and turn to avoid being hit.

megumi is relentless with his attacks, and it is all you can do to avoid his shikigami. nue erupts into shadow just as you jump to attack it, and you land at megumi’s feet gracelessly, chin a millimeter from his boots and back hoisted into the air clumsily.