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hii your bathroom girl fic with yuji is so so dear to me, truly you have such an amazing way with words im in awe as a writer, and the fic was the sweetest thing i ever read and so meaningful to me as someone who deals with depression, sh ext ext, thank you!! also the tohru pfp I LOVEEE you’re literally my twin
aw man this is truly the sweetest thing i’ve ever read thank you so much <333 im so glad u were able to connect with it !! ALSO YES I LOVE FRUBAAA i really gotta get back into writing thank u so much for motivation BESOS
three times he tried proposing + the one time he did ⵌ⸝⸝ satoru gojo
trials and tribulations of proposing, satoru is so in love he might explode, idk i lowk teared up writing this
wc: 2.0k
I.
Spring was blooming through the frosted glass, the sun painting the bathroom in various hues of gold, while your gentle hums filled the room. Satoru watched from the doorframe, frosted hair and cerulean eyes peeking out, his smile never faltering. It never does around you.
Your head lay against the frame of the tub, wet hair sticking to your skin, and rosy petals drifting throughout the water. You looked so at peace he could practically hear angels playing their harps at the scene.
“Are you done staring? I’m still waiting for my evening kiss.” Your eyes were still shut, but you always had some sixth sense for him.
“I’m admiring the view,” he said, matching your playful tone. He couldn’t help but smile harder.
You hummed, eyes fluttering open to meet his. “Well, come admire closer.”
For a moment, his heart skipped. The small velvet box felt a hundred times heavier in his pocket.
“Close your eyes.” His voice was barely a breath above a whisper, but you obliged. He stepped toward the tub, work clothes still on, and a sickly feeling settled in his stomach.
Kneeling beside the tub, he gently pushed back any stray locks of hair. His hand caressed the curve of your face as you nudged yourself farther into his touch, like instinct.
The notes of angelic harps were gone, and quiet anxieties crept in. A feeling so unfamiliar it made him want to sink beneath the water.
His other hand palmed the outline of a box that now felt hot to the touch.
Satoru repeated Suguru’s words like a mantra. When the time is right.
But how could he know when he could only focus on the unrelenting pound in his chest?
He could only lean forward, enveloping his lips with yours, fighting back the tremble and letting himself melt into your warmth. Your dripping hands met his cheek as you pulled back to face him.
“Is everything alright?” The feeling in his chest said otherwise, but your gentle voice always made him believe so.
Satoru exhaled and pressed a swift kiss to your palms. “Everything’s perfect. How was your day?” The words left a little too fast, but maybe you didn’t notice.
“Boring, but it’s a lot better now.” You giggled, brushing through his ivory hair. “How was yours?”
His lips parted before closing again. He wanted to tell you how he spent half the afternoon at the jeweler's, sending even the workers into a spiral over the perfect ring. Fingers trailing over each diamond, thinking about how beautiful your hand would look with the biggest rock adorning it.
But maybe you preferred a pear cut, something neat and minimal. Maybe he’d get it engraved with a heartfelt message.
But what if you didn’t like the ring?
“It was nice. I got out of work early, so you have me all to yourself.” His words were cadenced, sweet like candy.
He had so much to say. So much. But the sun was beginning to set, and the words died at the tip of his tongue.
You leaped forward, arms catching around his neck. “So come join me then.” You peppered kisses over his skin, your smile warm against him. And who was he to deny you?
Because despite the unforgiving butterflies, right now Satoru felt like time had slowed just between the two of you, skin to skin. That time would be willing enough to give him another day.
II.
Satoru shut off his phone, kissing his teeth, because according to all the blogs and forums, hiding an engagement ring inside your dessert isn’t deemed romantic.
He stared back at the slice of cake. Chantilly, your favorite.
Satoru wanted to believe that tonight was the night. A candlelit dinner overlooking the Tokyo horizon, soon to be the story he’d planned to retell for the rest of his life. It was supposed to be the night when the words came naturally, easily.
But your empty chair was haunting him, and… since when the hell did he stutter?
“Every day since I’ve met you, I could—I could only imagine—”
“Who are you talking to?”
His head whipped toward you, wide-eyed, but the silence only grew longer. A crease between your brows slowly replaced your gentle smile with every passing second.
Your voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “Toru?”
In the moments between finding his voice and getting your smile back, he instead motioned toward the cake.
“No one. I mean the cake. I’m sweet-talking it before we eat it.” Satoru cleared his throat as if it would cover the crack in his voice.
You sat back down across from him, a soft breeze brushing past as you brushed nonexistent dust motes from your dress. “You were doing foreplay on our dessert?” You let out a small laugh, but he knew that was your way of avoiding his eyes.
“What can I say? I take great pride in being a gentleman.” His lips curved, far from smug, as he reached out for your hand. Your fingers interlocked like a hushed promise, city noises filling the space between you.
He called out your name, careful to sound every syllable, refusing to let your mind wander anywhere else besides this moment.
“I love you.” This time, his voice was sure, his thumb tracing figures over your skin.
You looked up, that familiar smile gracing your lips, and your hand tightened around his.
“I love you.” It was faint, gentle, but a testament all the same.
There was a box inside his jacket, pressing into his dress shirt, a small reminder to Satoru of what would come. And maybe the nervous buzz on his skin, paired with that slice of sugared vanilla in the air, would be enough to define the moment.
He paused, taking in the hues of your eyes, how the moonlight shone against them. The slight tilt of your head made him wonder, quietly, how you’d look beneath a veil.
Was it the right moment for you?
His hand picked up the polished fork, taking a small stab at the cake. Berries and sponge smeared against the metal. He leaned in, letting you take the first bite.
And as you hummed at the sickly sweet flavor, Satoru could only smile helplessly in love.
III.
Your head tipped toward the sky, pursing your lips, you almost looked lost in thought. “What about... staying up watching movies?”
He let out a playful scoff, his arm reaching around your shoulder and pulling you closer. “Impossible. You always fall asleep within the first hour.”
A gasp left your lips, almost offended by his accusation. “It was one time! And besides, the plot was so predictable.”
“Sounds to me like you just hate my movie selections.”
“They’re questionable at best.”
Sundays had become routine—long walks through the park, letting the wind guide your wandering steps. The only difference today was the way Satoru’s gaze lingered longer than usual on the older couples resting quietly on the benches.
He wondered if it was some twisted form of divine intervention.
Being offered a glimpse into a life he never imagined having until he met you. A kind of life where he would see years of love and hurt manifest on your skin, earning every gray hair together. Where he’d get to look at you decades from now and fall in love all over again.
That it was him you’d want to experience forever with.
He didn’t notice when he stopped in his tracks or how you looked at him with a different kind of curiosity. He only felt it when his knee hit the pavement, his throat beginning to close, his vision starting to blur.
“Hey.” It was quiet, because any louder might break him.
Satoru watched the way your lips parted, the way your body straightened; he almost didn’t catch it.
“Hi.”
“…I need to tie my shoe.” He said it as if it were the most obvious fact ever. He could only swallow down the realization that the wrong words had slipped out.
You let out a breathy laugh. “Oh my god, I hate you.” You quickly turned, attempting to leave him behind.
He always caught up to you, his arm grabbing hold of yours. “Wait up, what’s the matter?” A swift kiss to the corner of your lips—his version of damage control. Though you stayed silent, fighting back a smile.
“Wait.” He said once more, tilting his head. “You thought I was going to propose.”
You gave him a playful push. “What? No.”
A grin tugged at his lips despite his wavering heartbeat. “No?”
“Why would I think that?” you hummed, amused.
“Don’t know, you looked like you were about to run off on me.” He let out a laugh, but there was a part of him that hoped you’d say otherwise.
You paused for a moment, your eyes drifting off. “…as if I ever would.”
He stepped closer, leaning down just enough to catch your eyes again.
“So you were hopeful?”
You huffed softly, nudging his shoulder as you walked past him. “Now you’re just saying things.”
Satoru watched you go for a second longer. Only this time, he felt the knot slowly unraveling in his chest. His hand slipped into his pocket, fingers brushing the velvet fabric that hid its own promise.
IV.
The sun bled through the blinds as Satoru’s eyes fluttered open, the morning light slowly pulling him from sleep.
It felt like a dream—seeing you on the other side of the bed, your hair sprawled across the pillow, a small trail of drool at the corner of your lips.
He reached over and pulled you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck like it was all he ever needed. Like your warmth alone could sustain him.
Sometimes he wondered how something so simple, so mundane, had become the most precious thing in his life. Even imagining the other side of the bed empty felt impossible now.
How had he managed all those years without you?
You stirred in his embrace, your nose scrunching as you welcome the light. “Toru…” faint mumbles still heavy with sleep. “You’re suffocating me.”
It felt so easy in that moment, how the words slipped off his tongue like syrup. Maybe it was the morning daze, but he liked to think otherwise.
“Will you marry me?” he murmured against your neck.
You stilled against him, your voice meek. “What?”
Satoru pulled back only enough to meet your eyes, one breath away. “I said, ‘Will you marry me?’”
He watched as you sat up, still in a daze. “Are you serious?” you whispered. “If this is another joke—”
But he didn’t let you finish your sentence. He sat up too, reaching underneath his pillow and pulling out a black velvet box.
Silence filled the room when he opened it, the ring catching the morning light. And for the first time in his life, Satoru Gojo was scared.
“I love you.” His gaze softened on you. “I’ve been going insane trying to find the right words, but I know that I’m happiest with you, that there’s no future without you. And if there is, I might as well be dead.”
His hand picked up the ring, the other gently closing around yours, brushing against your knuckle. “So… stay with me.”
Without hesitation, your hands grasped his cheek, pulling him into a kiss—a kind with clumsy, undiluted affection. But Satoru was quick to find your hand, slipping the ring on like the last piece of a puzzle.
“Yes. It was always yes.” You laughed shakily, and only then could Satoru exhale every worry that had been fermenting in his chest. Only then could he pull you back into his arms.
TUMBLR'S RECENT UPDATE IS AWFUL AND WE SHOULD COMPLAIN LOUDER AGAINST IT.
Hey so, I thought maybe we should participate in a blackout day to protest against the new tumblr update.
Let's try March 19. So that people have time to see this and plan for it.
Do not log in or use tumblr for 24 on this day.
Reblog this and make a tag chain to maximise visbility—the more people aware of this awful update, the better.
Circle the date on your calendar, or set a reminder on your phone. As a bonus it will be a good break from social media. Spend the day doing things you like—start that book you've been waiting to read, go outside, watch a good movie... just do anything except open tumblr.
I think we should show tumblr that we are not happy with this update in every possible way we can.
File support tickets with feedback (SEE BELOW ON HOW TO SEND FEEDBACK), post about how this update makes you feel, reblog other's posts about this update, offer as detailed and honest feedback as possible to tumblr—WE DO NOT WANT THIS UPDATE!!
Remember that WE are the end consumers.
WE build their platform, WE fill it with posts, WE are the reason they generate revenue, WE are the reason this platform has power, and for these reasons WE should feel satisfied with the service they provide. ESPECIALLY if you pay for tumblr premium, you are entitled to make a complaint about the platform you are PAYING.
I used to like tumblr and I'd like to cling to it, but this update is just horrible. It makes me not want to continue posting at all. It is utterly demotovating as-is with my being mature labelled, but this update is just intolerable. I do not know how I will feel motivated to post at all in the future if this update is not rolled back.
I know I don't have much reach, especially with a label on, but I hope this reaches at least a few people.
Please participate if you care. Please reblog and tag people you know. Send every bit of feedback to tumblr that you possibly can.
I really don't want to see my once favorite site ruined beyond repair. I really want to continue enjoying this site. I have a community of people here which I have built over years, a community which I deeply love and appreciate and cherish interacting with. My blog thrives on being able to see feedback in reblogs on my post. The whole point of posting is that people see it and engage with it. This update is at best nonsensical and at worst, going to shred off many creators from the platform and rip apart any last bits of fun we have using it.
SEE BELOW for more information on the update & how to send a support ticket to give feedback.
HOW TO SEND FEEDBACK THROUGH SUPPORT TICKETS
Go to tumblr support
Select the category "feedback"
Write in formal, polite tone—try not to sound rude, but constructive and earnest about how dissatisfied you feel about the update and its effects
EXAMPLE: I am writing regarding tumblr's recent update. I am not happy with this feature and do not see myself enjoying the platform with this being implemented. Please rollback this update.
IMPORTANT LINKS
Comment your feedback on tumblr's twitter
Here is the original tumblr post stating the update change
This post by @thatlittleegyptologist explains the effects of the update
Dear tumblr please listen to our feedback and rollback this update.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
three times he tried proposing + the one time he did ⵌ⸝⸝ satoru gojo
trials and tribulations of proposing, satoru is so in love he might explode, idk i lowk teared up writing this
wc: 2.0k
I.
Spring was blooming through the frosted glass, the sun painting the bathroom in various hues of gold, while your gentle hums filled the room. Satoru watched from the doorframe, frosted hair and cerulean eyes peeking out, his smile never faltering. It never does around you.
Your head lay against the frame of the tub, wet hair sticking to your skin, and rosy petals drifting throughout the water. You looked so at peace he could practically hear angels playing their harps at the scene.
“Are you done staring? I’m still waiting for my evening kiss.” Your eyes were still shut, but you always had some sixth sense for him.
“I’m admiring the view,” he said, matching your playful tone. He couldn’t help but smile harder.
You hummed, eyes fluttering open to meet his. “Well, come admire closer.”
For a moment, his heart skipped. The small velvet box felt a hundred times heavier in his pocket.
“Close your eyes.” His voice was barely a breath above a whisper, but you obliged. He stepped toward the tub, work clothes still on, and a sickly feeling settled in his stomach.
Kneeling beside the tub, he gently pushed back any stray locks of hair. His hand caressed the curve of your face as you nudged yourself farther into his touch, like instinct.
The notes of angelic harps were gone, and quiet anxieties crept in. A feeling so unfamiliar it made him want to sink beneath the water.
His other hand palmed the outline of a box that now felt hot to the touch.
Satoru repeated Suguru’s words like a mantra. When the time is right.
But how could he know when he could only focus on the unrelenting pound in his chest?
He could only lean forward, enveloping his lips with yours, fighting back the tremble and letting himself melt into your warmth. Your dripping hands met his cheek as you pulled back to face him.
“Is everything alright?” The feeling in his chest said otherwise, but your gentle voice always made him believe so.
Satoru exhaled and pressed a swift kiss to your palms. “Everything’s perfect. How was your day?” The words left a little too fast, but maybe you didn’t notice.
“Boring, but it’s a lot better now.” You giggled, brushing through his ivory hair. “How was yours?”
His lips parted before closing again. He wanted to tell you how he spent half the afternoon at the jeweler's, sending even the workers into a spiral over the perfect ring. Fingers trailing over each diamond, thinking about how beautiful your hand would look with the biggest rock adorning it.
But maybe you preferred a pear cut, something neat and minimal. Maybe he’d get it engraved with a heartfelt message.
But what if you didn’t like the ring?
“It was nice. I got out of work early, so you have me all to yourself.” His words were cadenced, sweet like candy.
He had so much to say. So much. But the sun was beginning to set, and the words died at the tip of his tongue.
You leaped forward, arms catching around his neck. “So come join me then.” You peppered kisses over his skin, your smile warm against him. And who was he to deny you?
Because despite the unforgiving butterflies, right now Satoru felt like time had slowed just between the two of you, skin to skin. That time would be willing enough to give him another day.
II.
Satoru shut off his phone, kissing his teeth, because according to all the blogs and forums, hiding an engagement ring inside your dessert isn’t deemed romantic.
He stared back at the slice of cake. Chantilly, your favorite.
Satoru wanted to believe that tonight was the night. A candlelit dinner overlooking the Tokyo horizon, soon to be the story he’d planned to retell for the rest of his life. It was supposed to be the night when the words came naturally, easily.
But your empty chair was haunting him, and… since when the hell did he stutter?
“Every day since I’ve met you, I could—I could only imagine—”
“Who are you talking to?”
His head whipped toward you, wide-eyed, but the silence only grew longer. A crease between your brows slowly replaced your gentle smile with every passing second.
Your voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “Toru?”
In the moments between finding his voice and getting your smile back, he instead motioned toward the cake.
“No one. I mean the cake. I’m sweet-talking it before we eat it.” Satoru cleared his throat as if it would cover the crack in his voice.
You sat back down across from him, a soft breeze brushing past as you brushed nonexistent dust motes from your dress. “You were doing foreplay on our dessert?” You let out a small laugh, but he knew that was your way of avoiding his eyes.
“What can I say? I take great pride in being a gentleman.” His lips curved, far from smug, as he reached out for your hand. Your fingers interlocked like a hushed promise, city noises filling the space between you.
He called out your name, careful to sound every syllable, refusing to let your mind wander anywhere else besides this moment.
“I love you.” This time, his voice was sure, his thumb tracing figures over your skin.
You looked up, that familiar smile gracing your lips, and your hand tightened around his.
“I love you.” It was faint, gentle, but a testament all the same.
There was a box inside his jacket, pressing into his dress shirt, a small reminder to Satoru of what would come. And maybe the nervous buzz on his skin, paired with that slice of sugared vanilla in the air, would be enough to define the moment.
He paused, taking in the hues of your eyes, how the moonlight shone against them. The slight tilt of your head made him wonder, quietly, how you’d look beneath a veil.
Was it the right moment for you?
His hand picked up the polished fork, taking a small stab at the cake. Berries and sponge smeared against the metal. He leaned in, letting you take the first bite.
And as you hummed at the sickly sweet flavor, Satoru could only smile helplessly in love.
III.
Your head tipped toward the sky, pursing your lips, you almost looked lost in thought. “What about... staying up watching movies?”
He let out a playful scoff, his arm reaching around your shoulder and pulling you closer. “Impossible. You always fall asleep within the first hour.”
A gasp left your lips, almost offended by his accusation. “It was one time! And besides, the plot was so predictable.”
“Sounds to me like you just hate my movie selections.”
“They’re questionable at best.”
Sundays had become routine—long walks through the park, letting the wind guide your wandering steps. The only difference today was the way Satoru’s gaze lingered longer than usual on the older couples resting quietly on the benches.
He wondered if it was some twisted form of divine intervention.
Being offered a glimpse into a life he never imagined having until he met you. A kind of life where he would see years of love and hurt manifest on your skin, earning every gray hair together. Where he’d get to look at you decades from now and fall in love all over again.
That it was him you’d want to experience forever with.
He didn’t notice when he stopped in his tracks or how you looked at him with a different kind of curiosity. He only felt it when his knee hit the pavement, his throat beginning to close, his vision starting to blur.
“Hey.” It was quiet, because any louder might break him.
Satoru watched the way your lips parted, the way your body straightened; he almost didn’t catch it.
“Hi.”
“…I need to tie my shoe.” He said it as if it were the most obvious fact ever. He could only swallow down the realization that the wrong words had slipped out.
You let out a breathy laugh. “Oh my god, I hate you.” You quickly turned, attempting to leave him behind.
He always caught up to you, his arm grabbing hold of yours. “Wait up, what’s the matter?” A swift kiss to the corner of your lips—his version of damage control. Though you stayed silent, fighting back a smile.
“Wait.” He said once more, tilting his head. “You thought I was going to propose.”
You gave him a playful push. “What? No.”
A grin tugged at his lips despite his wavering heartbeat. “No?”
“Why would I think that?” you hummed, amused.
“Don’t know, you looked like you were about to run off on me.” He let out a laugh, but there was a part of him that hoped you’d say otherwise.
You paused for a moment, your eyes drifting off. “…as if I ever would.”
He stepped closer, leaning down just enough to catch your eyes again.
“So you were hopeful?”
You huffed softly, nudging his shoulder as you walked past him. “Now you’re just saying things.”
Satoru watched you go for a second longer. Only this time, he felt the knot slowly unraveling in his chest. His hand slipped into his pocket, fingers brushing the velvet fabric that hid its own promise.
IV.
The sun bled through the blinds as Satoru’s eyes fluttered open, the morning light slowly pulling him from sleep.
It felt like a dream—seeing you on the other side of the bed, your hair sprawled across the pillow, a small trail of drool at the corner of your lips.
He reached over and pulled you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck like it was all he ever needed. Like your warmth alone could sustain him.
Sometimes he wondered how something so simple, so mundane, had become the most precious thing in his life. Even imagining the other side of the bed empty felt impossible now.
How had he managed all those years without you?
You stirred in his embrace, your nose scrunching as you welcome the light. “Toru…” faint mumbles still heavy with sleep. “You’re suffocating me.”
It felt so easy in that moment, how the words slipped off his tongue like syrup. Maybe it was the morning daze, but he liked to think otherwise.
“Will you marry me?” he murmured against your neck.
You stilled against him, your voice meek. “What?”
Satoru pulled back only enough to meet your eyes, one breath away. “I said, ‘Will you marry me?’”
He watched as you sat up, still in a daze. “Are you serious?” you whispered. “If this is another joke—”
But he didn’t let you finish your sentence. He sat up too, reaching underneath his pillow and pulling out a black velvet box.
Silence filled the room when he opened it, the ring catching the morning light. And for the first time in his life, Satoru Gojo was scared.
“I love you.” His gaze softened on you. “I’ve been going insane trying to find the right words, but I know that I’m happiest with you, that there’s no future without you. And if there is, I might as well be dead.”
His hand picked up the ring, the other gently closing around yours, brushing against your knuckle. “So… stay with me.”
Without hesitation, your hands grasped his cheek, pulling him into a kiss—a kind with clumsy, undiluted affection. But Satoru was quick to find your hand, slipping the ring on like the last piece of a puzzle.
“Yes. It was always yes.” You laughed shakily, and only then could Satoru exhale every worry that had been fermenting in his chest. Only then could he pull you back into his arms.
from the first day you transferred in as a second-year, satoru gojo had zeroed in on you like a curse sensing vulnerability. it began with a smirk here, a snide comment there, but it escalated quickly. you'd be in the courtyard, trying to tame your curls with a hair clip, and he'd saunter by with his hands in his pockets, that infuriating grin plastered on his face.
"wow, yomu, did a bird nest in your hair or something? looks like a tornado hit a wool factory." he'd laugh, loud enough for everyone to hear, and his friends would just shake their heads. you'd feel your cheeks burn, fingers tightening around the clip as you shoved it back into place. it was one of your favorites, a simple silver thing with a little charm dangling from it, but now it felt stupid under his gaze.
you tried to ignore him, burying yourself in your poetry. during lunch, you'd sit under a tree, pen flying across the page as you poured out thoughts about cursed energy, fleeting moments, the way the world felt both infinite and suffocating. but satoru couldn't leave well enough alone. one day, he snatched your notebook right out of your hands while you were mid-sentence.
"what garbage is this? 'waves of shadow crash against the shore of my soul'? pfft, sounds like a bad haiku from a discount fortune cookie." he'd read it aloud in a mock-dramatic voice, exaggerating every word until the other students were snickering. you lunged for the book, but he held it high above his head –damn his height– dangling it like a toy. "come on, poet laureate, jump for it! or is that too much for your nerdy little glasses to handle?"
your glasses. oh, how he loved to rag on those. they were practical, oversized frames that helped you see the fine details of cursed techniques during class. but to satoru, they were just another punchline. "low-res alert! hey, yomu, you borrowing those from your grandma? they make you look like a bug-eyed owl." he'd push them up your nose with a finger, invading your personal space just to watch you flinch. it was relentless, every day a new jab, every interaction laced with his disdain.
you hated him for it –hated how he made you feel small, how his words twisted in your gut like a low-grade curse. but what could you do? he was satoru fucking gojo, untouchable.
little did you know, behind that facade of mockery, something entirely different was brewing in satoru's mind.
it all started that rainy afternoon in the training grounds. you'd been practicing your technique alone, hair frizzing wildly in the humidity, when your clip slipped out mid-spin. it clattered to the wet pavement, a single curly strand caught in its prongs from where it had tangled earlier. you didn't notice –too focused on channeling your energy– and by the time the session ended, you'd rushed inside to escape the downpour, leaving it behind.
satoru had been watching from the sidelines, as he often did, pretending to lounge but really observing your form. he told himself it was boredom, nothing more. but when he saw the clip glint in the rain, something compelled him to pick it up. the metal was cool in his palm, the curly hair soft and springy, still carrying a faint scent of your shampoo –coconut and vanilla. he should have thrown it away, or better yet, used it as ammo for another tease. instead, he slipped it into his pocket, heart pounding inexplicably.
that night, in his dorm, he pulled it out under the dim light of his lamp. the curl bounced back when he touched it, resilient and wild, just like you. he twirled it around his finger, the way it refused to lay flat.
"how stupid." he muttered to himself, but he couldn't stop. it became a secret ritual –fiddling with the clip when no one was around, letting the curl brush against his skin. he loved it, in a way that confused and terrified him. it was a piece of you, unfiltered and real, away from the walls you both put up.
and then there was your poetry. after that day he snatched your notebook, he'd made a show of tossing it back with a scoff. but later, when you weren't looking, he'd glimpsed more pages during a group study session. the words stuck with him –'echoes of infinity in a single glance, barriers crumbling like veil glass.' he mocked them publicly, sure, but privately, he recited them in his head during missions, letting the rhythm calm the chaos of battle. he borrowed your notebook once more under the guise of ‘checking for dumb mistakes’, but really, he was committing every line to memory. your words painted the world in ways his eyes couldn't –emotional, beautiful. he hated how they made him feel seen, vulnerable. so he mocked harder to cover it up.
the glasses were the tipping point. one evening, after a particularly brutal training where he'd called you ‘spectacle disaster’ for the umpteenth time, satoru found himself in town, wandering the shops. he passed an optician's window and stopped dead. there, on display, were frames almost identical to yours –thick, black rims, slightly rounded– but elevated. designer. expensive. custom. photochromic that automatically adjust their tint from clear to dark when exposed to UV light. before he could think better of it, he went in and bought a pair. non-prescription, of course; his vision was perfect. but wearing them was like stepping into your world.
he tried them on in his room, staring at his reflection. they softened his sharp features, made him look... approachable? no, that wasn't it. they made him feel closer to you, like matching a piece of your puzzle.
one morning, he showed up to class wearing them. shoko noticed immediately.
“since when do you need prescription shades, satoru?”
“i don’t.” he said, kicking his feet up on the desk. “i’m imposing my aesthetic.”
from then on, he wore them sporadically –during late-night study sessions, or when he was alone. he'd adjust them like you did, pushing them up with a finger, and think about how you'd react if you knew. probably freak out, he mused with a smirk. but it was his secret, just like the clip tucked away in his drawer, the curl preserved like a talisman.
a bit suggestive, something small bc i have no motivation these days :(
wc: 0.6k
guitarist!suguru, whose eyes haven't left you since he arrived at the party. chimes of glasses, bass reverberating through the floors, and yet his vision only tunneled to you. he couldn't help but wonder what the gloss on your lips would taste like. carmine-dripping cherry, maybe a honeyed apple — is what he wrote in his next song.
guitarist!suguru, who couldn't stop thinking of the way your body moved to the music, wishing it was his song that entranced you. pens devoid of ink, pages filled with sequences of metaphors at the thought of you. how your laugh sounds like a choir of divines, and your eyes — a kaleidoscope of his fantasies that forever keeps him up at night.
guitarist!suguru, who eventually scrapped the tracklist he was previously working on, much to vocalist!satoru's complaints. generic rhythms replaced with silky falsettos and electronic synths all reminiscent of you, conversations he so desperately wanted to sing to you.
guitarist!suguru, who could only smile when bassist!shoko asked who the songs were about, "no one in particular," he murmured, but he wasn't fooling anyone.
guitarist!suguru, who was always the one arriving late to his own listening parties, but this time he let satoru invite the entire city, hoping you'd catch wind of it. he was the first there, watching who entered, waiting to catch sight of your sleek black dress once more.
guitarist!suguru, who felt like a teenager all over again. his mouth went dry when he watched how you laugh the night away with your friends. stomach fluttering at the sight of you.
"care for a dance?" he didn't know when it happened, but the interlude was beginning to play, and he couldn't hold back. you stared up at him, doe-eyed, a giggle left your glossed lips, and it was everything he imagined it to be.
guitarist!suguru, who focused on the vanilla scent of your perfume rather than the pounding against his ribs as he guides you through the sea of moving bodies. the air was heavy with dark synths and sweat, flashing lights giving him glimpses of your body. you let loose under his touch, and he let the whiskey on his tongue take control.
his hands found your waist, hips slotting against yours, moving to his voice that flows through the speakers, the lyrics; an ode to you.
your arms found their way towards his nape, fingers tangled within his dark locks, swaying to the slow teasing vibrations, the kind of slow that leaves you aching for more.
guitarist!suguru, who was a selfish man, his body flushed against yours, but even then it wasn't enough. fingertips digging into your hips, movements turn frantic, and his mind is fuzzy with the way your ass grinds so nicely over his growing bulge.
the song turns from pleas to desperation, every beat needier from the last. in one swift spin, his eyes found yours, heaving breaths ghosting over each other's skin. he liked to think he was a gentleman, even as he fought the urge to kiss under the limelight. but the dizzying heat that radiated from you made it a nth time harder.
his hands reached down to the curve of your back, down to the fat of your ass, trying to ignore the friction between his tented cock and your dress. the music grew louder, and the space between you was only getting smaller.
"…can i kiss you?"
guitarist!suguru, who didn't hesitate to answer your pleas. His lips crash against yours, desperate for the taste of you, sticky gloss only pulling him closer; faint notes of saccharine berry. his eyes were fluttering shut, forgetting about the music, only focusing on the way your lips moved against him. moving perfectly in sync, lapping up your quiet whimpers that go straight to his crotch. it felt like a world away.
guitarist!suguru, who only had half a mind to pull away, groaning at the loss of your touch. his finger ghosting over your flushed lips, already missing the feeling. the corner of his mouth curls at how drunk you look from his lips alone.
he leaned towards your ear, a faint whisper fanning over your skin, "wanna get out of here?"
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Cerulean waves crashed into the brittle sand, foaming as they settled into every crack and crevice. Every rise and fall lingered in the air like a never-ending melody—the blazing sun embracing your skin whilst your hand revels in the sand, pliant at your touch.
It was a beautiful day, the glimmering sea in the cusp of your hand, but what better way to share it with your lover?
"What about this one?" You looked over at the peach-haired boy, meeting his expectant eyes, a lone pearl-white cone resting in his hand, awaiting your approval.
You hummed, reaching over to feel its spirals, "This one looks shattered."
"Isn't that what makes it all the more beautiful?" Yuji said, stepping closer to inspect the shell—the briny smell of his sunscreen seeping off him.
"More beautiful than me?" You teased, biting back a smile, but you could never hold back. Not when you're with him.
His fingers brushed past the wet hair that clung to your skin, feeling the stray grains on your cheek. "Nothing's prettier than you, baby." A soft kiss to your lips, sealing his words.
You eased back, pressing a soft peck on his nose for good measure before showing him a shell of your own.
Yuji smiled at the sight, "What's this one called?"
"It's a turban, look, it even matches your eyes!" Bringing the shell towards his eyes, its speckled pattern complementing his umber hues.
"Then I'll have to find one that matches yours," he said gently, "so we're together no matter where we are." Tender words as his hands find yours, leading you deeper into the water.
"How cheesy of you."
"Only for you," he always said, as if it were the most obvious truth ever.
yearner megumi painting u like one of his french girls, dedicating this to my favorite person ever tqm <3
wc: 0.6k
Underneath all the notebooks and manga volumes covering his desk is one particular treasure.
Megumi Fushiguro's sketchbook.
It's not something he was particularly passionate about, and he didn't spend hours with creases between his brows, trying to get the perspective right. Instead, it was something he indulged in, letting the scruffs against paper fill the silence.
Self-taught would be the right word. It started in grade school, the margins of his homework, littered with petals that made out lilies; Tsumiki's favorite flower.
Then it was the neighborhood cat that wandered the streets. Ravishing the tuna Megumi left out for him as he sketched every detail of its tattered fur. Kissing his teeth, irritated, when his subject moved too much.
Before he knew it, he was buying another book with pages to fill. The fruit bowl was purely for decoration, yet he found himself figuring out how to capture every shadow. He used to talk to the waning moon, but now he'd rather draw out every pore and concave.
Then it was you.
Megumi didn't know when it started, his growing annoyance towards you. Maybe it was the way you waltzed around the school, never bothering to acknowledge him. Even on missions, you'd only talk when necessary, preferring to take charge and let him have half the credit like he wasn't competent enough.
Maybe annoyance was too light a word.
He hated your pessimistic attitude, the bored look in your eyes. He hated how you gnawed the inside of your cheek, how your fingers tapped against the desk as if you were counting the minutes.
And God, he hated how good you looked on Bristol paper.
Graphite pencil lining the edge of your jaw. The pads of his fingers smudge the grey to mimic your eyeshadow. Geometrical shapes that just so happen to make up the proportion of your body. Every page he touched became you. Sketch after sketch—he couldn't help himself.
Megumi's hand moved before his mind caught up. Hunched over in his bed, detailing the way your hair blew in the wind. During training, watching you spar from afar, making sure he got your posture just right. The rules of the third no longer mattered to him. Composition didn't exist in his art. Not when you were his only focal point.
It was just practice; he tried to tell himself. Honing his skills through you, trying to focus on how the sun blends into the horizon rather than the texture of your hair. But somewhere between the first and last graze of his pen, your silhouette appeared in the corner, and suddenly his landscape felt complete.
He tried to be subtle, he really did. A mere creak in the floorboard was all it took for his hand to snap the book shut, a quiet wince at the graphite smearing against each other.
But when relief washed over him, and the pounding against his ribs calmed, he finally put his pencil down with a breath caught in his chest. Silently wishing it was you walking through the door, catching him—drawing you in every way he shouldn't.
But sketchbooks turned into loose sheets, and grey pigments became color. Because a pencil couldn't capture your vivid eyes, nor the faint tint on your lips. Only the shades of skin could highlight the faint crinkles in your features when you smile.
And every tender stroke of his brush painted the way he wished to touch you. Diluting shades into reverent words he could never say, illustrating the version of you that only he understood.
But you'll only ever live on paper. Longing words caught between the borders of bleeding colors.
Avoiding your eyes as if he isn't falling in love with every shade of you.
౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆ a rainy first valentine's day with megumi fushiguro
wc. 2.2k
m.list
a/n. happy valentine's day! shoutout to my favorite ship megumi x me!!!(canon btw)
FEBRUARY 14TH was never a day Megumi thought he’d ever be nervous for. It was Valentine’s Day, of course, but being the quiet, brooding person he was, he never celebrated. In the past, Gojo would get him and Tsumiki chocolates and a small gift. There were also times where he’d blabber and ugly cry about some ‘lost love’.
Weirdo.
This year was different, because now, he actually had a girlfriend.
Of course he’d already asked you to be his valentine, having snuck into your dorm and set up a pretty, lace decorated basket with your favorite drink, a soft plush animal, a robe, and a couple snacks. Beside it sat a neat bouquet and card. It was all kinda extra, but it was the gentleman thing to do. Plus, he got lots of kisses out of it (definitely worth it).
But now he was still so worried. What if something ruined what he’d planned? Surely not. Megumi considered himself lucky when it came to you. Often, things almost went wrong, but everything always ends up fine. Today would be the same thing.
His hand knocked gently on the door of your dorm. “[name]? You ready?”
“Almost! You can come in.” You called.
He pushed the door open, glancing around and finding you at your desk, a mirror in front of your face and makeup scattered around.
“You think my makeup looks good?”
Megumi’s eyes drifted towards your face, which was turning to him, then down to see you still in a robe.
“I think you should put some clothes on.”
“That’s not what I asked!” You whined.
He smirked in amusement, coming behind you and putting his hands on your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Your makeup’s fine.”
You glared up at him, lower lip jutting out. “Whatever. Give me my dress.”
Said dress was draped neatly on the edge of the bed–flowy, cream-colored with a soft red floral pattern. Megumi picked the dress up, holding it out to you.
You stared up at him. He stared back. “What?”
“Get out! Ew boyfriend’s a pervert and is trying to watch me change!” You burst out suddenly, using an overly exaggerated tone.
Megumi rolled his eyes, heat creeping up the back of his neck as he threw the dress in your face.
You sputtered, pulling the fabric off. “Hey!”
“Just change.” He said, already back at the door.
He waited outside and when you came out a few minutes later, his breath caught slightly. The dress looked even nicer on you than it did on the hanger and on top you put a deep-red cardigan, a small bag hanging on your shoulder. He admired the outfit, the way it almost made you look brighter.
“You look…very nice.” He said softly, the tips of his ears and his cheeks turning a soft pink. Suddenly, he felt a little out of place beside you–a denim oversized jacket (in black, of course), a plain white tee, and wide-leg pants (also black).
God, he felt so boring.
“Thank you. You look so handsome.” You said with a soft teasing tone.
He turned his head to the side, the blush dusting his cheeks turning a little darker. “Whatever. Let’s go.” Megumi held out his hand to you, which you quickly grabbed, lacing your fingers together.
The two of you started walking, passing by Yuji’s dorm as you walked through the halls. He was playing some loud ass longing songs, probably lying in bed and singing the lyrics while crying. He also said something about ‘not enough aura,’ ‘Fushiguro,’ and ‘please, I need a girlfriend’. Poor guy.
You laughed while Megumi sighed. “Ignore him. He’s been doing that since he woke up.”
Other than Yuji’s devastated breakdown about being single, everything was going smoothly so far, which soothed Megumi’s nerves. Maybe he didn’t need to be so stressed about anything. You were going to have a good first Valentine’s Day.
It’s fucking raining.
Of course it was.
Right after Ijichi dropped you two off in the city, Megumi’s gaze drifted to the small, scattered dots of rain on the concrete ground. Deciding to be an optimist for once in his life, he figured if it did rain, it’d probably be light.
The two of you made your way to the first stop he planned, a cat café. Upon spotting it, you gasped, grabbing his arm and tugging.
“Really?” You squealed.
Around the time you two started dating, you had mentioned that you’d never gone to one, but really wanted to. Megumi found the fact surprising because, well… you were you. He himself had gone before, dragged out by Yuji, Nobara, and Gojo, and as much as he didn’t want to, he actually did really enjoy it.
You both settled into the café, ordering various items as you cooed over the cats. One cat, long-haired and pure white, had hopped onto your lap, looking up and studying you with its sharp green eyes.
You held your breath, blushing with pure joy as you slowly petted the cat, to which it leaned into your hand, purring softly.
“He acts just like you.” You said, looking up at Megumi.
“What?”
“When I pet you.”
He narrowed his eyes slightly, pouting and looking outside instead of at you. You giggled softly, bringing your attention back to the cat as it pawed at your chin. Megumi let out a small huff, having noticed that the drizzle from earlier turned into soft rain, tapping against the window of the café.
A soft meow caught his attention. An orange kitten stood on its hind legs against his chair, pawing and calling for his attention.
He glanced around, making sure no one was looking–the poor guy didn’t want to lose his mysterious, nonchalant boyfriend aura–and picked up the little cat, bringing it to his lap.
“Awh!” He flinched at the funny coo, his eyes darting up to you. “You picked him up!”
He scoffed, his cheek flushing softly. “So?”
“You stopped trying to be all cool.” You laughed.
“I’m not trying.” He was.
“Yeah, right. Anyway, talk to me like a normal person!”
Megumi’s lips pulled into a small smile. You both started chatting, which of course, consisted mostly of you yapping about something, him listening carefully and adding input.
After an hour and a half, you both decided it was time to head to the next thing your wonderful boyfriend planned for you, which was what led to the current raining problem.
During the time you spent at the cat café, the rain turned to a heavy downpour, and there was no chance the day would continue like Megumi planned.
“Dammit…” he muttered curses under his breath, running a hand through his hair as the two of you stood at the door of the café, waiting for Ijichi to arrive to take you both back to Jujutsu Tech.
“Megumi, it’s alright…” You murmured, patting his back gently.
He looked to you, his stressed expression softening a bit as he exhaled slowly. “Sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize. You can’t control whether it rains or not.”
“I know…” He mumbled, going quiet as a familiar black SUV stopped at the curb outside. Megumi shrugged off his jacket, giving it to you to hold over your head. He ran outside, hastily opening the back seat door as you climbed in, him following behind. His clothes were soaked now, hair dripping and sticking to his skin.
The drive was an uncomfortable kind of quiet, Megumi being too caught up in his thoughts to say anything. The only sounds came from the rain pounding against the car and the occasional sloshing of water when they drove through a large puddle.
“You two try not to be so down. It’s still Valentine’s Day. Enjoy it.” Ijichi said gently as he stopped right in front of the dorms.
You both replied with either a ‘thank you’ or ‘have a good day’, to which he nodded. You went inside, walking through the empty halls, the tense silence still lingering.
“Megumi?”
He perked up, looking towards you. “Yeah?”
“I was wondering if you wanted to come back to my dorm. Y’know, so we can still be together.”
“Oh, yeah. Of course,” he replied, “I need to shower first though…” he looked down, tugged at his damp shirt clinging to his chest, slightly transparent.
“You can use my shower.” You offered, wanting to have him close by.
“It’s fine. I don’t wanna use up your water.”
“We get our water from the same place.”
“...”
You let out a small chuckle as he mumbled a soft ‘okay’.
On the way to your dorm, you stopped at his dorm so he could get some clothes. You waited patiently outside, leaning against the wall.
A door opened, but instead of it being Megumi, it was from Yuji’s dorm.
“[name]?” Yuji said, quirking his head to the side. “You guys are back?”
“Hey, Itadori. Yeah, it started raining really bad.” You said.
“Man, so you had to cancel your plans? That sucks.”
“Yeah, it does.”
“I feel bad for Fushiguro. He told me about what he planned and I’m pretty sure he was actually really excited.” You frowned slightly.
“That makes sense…”
“Anyway, I gotta go. Kugisaki told me to get her some drink from one of the vending machines. She’s gonna kill me if I take too long.”
You chuckled quietly. “Bye, Itadori.”
“See ya, [name]. Happy Valentine’s Day!” Yuji called as he started down the hallway.
As he disappeared, Megumi–finally–stepped out of his dorm, fresh clothes in hand. “Was that Itadori?”
“Yeah. He was just wondering why we were back.” You told him, to which he hummed.
Once in your dorm, Megumi excused himself to the bathroom where you faintly heard the shower start running. Your gaze lingered on the bathroom door before you looked down at your clothes, the bottom of your dress damp with rain.
Without much thought, you changed into more comfortable clothing, shorts and a sweater Megumi let you ‘borrow’ a long time ago. And of course, it was loose, sleeves reaching past your hands if you didn’t force them up.
Leaning back against your pillows with a blanket over your lap, you settled down, grabbing your phone to scroll through as Yuji’s words came back to you. Megumi was excited. Albeit not openly, but he was still excited for today. For what he planned for you. So much so that he looked painfully stressed out and guilty when it started raining.
It made you wonder what else he had planned.
The bathroom door creaked open and the boy you were just thinking about padded out in a loose T-shirt and sweatpants, hair damp and tousled from drying it with a towel. He walked closer, dropping down beside you, to which you set down your phone and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him to lay on top of you.
Megumi let out a small groan in protest before immediately folding, pressing his forehead to your neck and sniffing your lingering perfume on your skin as he wrapped his arms around your waist.
The rain outside seemed to calm, feeling more like a soothing patter against the window rather than the storm it had been before. His body slowly relaxed, heavy but warm–kind of like a weighted blanket–as the tip of your pointer finger traced small shapes on his back.
“Megumi?” You spoke up calmly.
He hummed softly in acknowledgement. “What else did you plan for today?” Your voice was soft and curious.
The boy was quiet for a moment, considering telling you about it.
“It doesn’t matter.” He mumbled.
“Maybe, but I still want to know.”
He sighed at your insistence. “After the café, I was gonna take you out shopping for a little while. And I booked a reservation at that dumb candlelit dinner place you mentioned. Then we were gonna get whatever treat you asked for and walk through the park. Y’know, the one with a bunch of lights.”
“Megumi…that sounds amazing.” You whispered, your lips curling into a smile, touched by how much he remembered you mentioning.
“I guess,” he murmured, “started raining though.”
“I already told you it was alright.”
“But it ruined everything.”
Your hand came to his cheek, touch light as you lifted his head up slightly to look at you properly. His eyes widened a fraction, seeing your eyes shining at the edges.
“Megumi, it didn’t ruin anything. I still love how today went because I’m with you. I love spending time with you.” You whispered.
His eyes softened, “Sorry…I just wanted our first Valentine’s to be perfect.”
A quiet chuckle escaped your lips, “I know. But there’s always next year.”
“Yeah…”
You leaned in, gently pressing your lips against his in a soft kiss. He melted into you, eyes fluttering shut as he pressed back, a light exhale coming from his nose. Your lips moved together in a slow dance, focusing solely on each other like nothing else mattered.
When you both pulled away, a little short of breath, you pressed your forehead to his. A small, sweet smile formed on your lips as you whispered:
a lot of people don't know this, but gojo satoru has a bad habit of reminiscing on old times.
a/n: tried something a little different... gulpk
wc: 1.3k
It was a strange feeling.
There's a creak in the floorboard, shadowing his steps. He hopes it reaches you, the you that's down the hallway. Hunched over a desk with a crease between your brows, no longer a naive sixteen but rather an ineffable twenty-eight.
To any wandering eyes, you were his colleague. A professional but amicable relationship that doesn't last when the sun goes down.
Which was true, much to his dismay. You didn't let him pry into your Saturday plans; his arm wrapped around your shoulder was now deemed "inappropriate," and small talk was out of the question.
So what if he couldn't decipher the slight scrunch of your nose? That Satoru Gojo, The Strongest™, is no longer able to figure out what's brewing in your pretty head. That even with all his strength, he couldn't tell the difference between your sugar-coated lies and docile honesty.
But if his azure eyes caught yours, even for a mere moment, he'd consider it a good day. It'd be a great day if he got to see your lips curve in a small, knowing smile, meant just for him.
Because behind all his futile efforts was the desire to know you like he once did.
That behind the lingering stares lies a time once bright, filled with laughter and tears — a distant past where Gojo knew every part of you. One that only exists between the two of you.
A time when he knew how you liked your eggs, when he whispered out nonsense to watch you squirm, a time when you two were stuck together like glue.
When sixteen felt like he was on top of the world, a fever dream he never wanted to end. Carving out his initials beside yours wherever he could. On the desks that his students now occupy. By the tree that you always read by, now overgrown with vines. Littered through the corridors, proof that there was once a time when you stood by him.
The same corridors you pulled him into when no one was watching, hiding in the sun's shadows, stealing kisses from each other, his hands snaking around yours, forgetting to breathe against your lips.
When adolescence meant sneaking out of the dorms under the moon's watch, knowing exactly where he could find you, always at the highest hilltop, hair sprawled out against the frayed grass, an empty spot next to you, like you've been waiting for him.
And you were —, but he preferred you lying over him, feeling the rise and fall of your chest against his. Fragile whispers over what the future would be like, he still remembers what you said. Hushed words against his neck, something along the lines of "Sharing a cup of wine from a bottle we can't read, right by a fireplace, in an apartment too big for the both of us."
How vividly he remembers the hymn of your laugh when he said he'd be drinking from a jug of grape juice.
But life was cruel, and the world was still ever-unforgiving.
Seventeen had felt like a nightmare.
The atmosphere was heavy when Geto defected, as if everyone else was getting punished for the crimes he committed.
He still had you; he always did—at least, that's what he wanted to believe.
That you'd still be there when missions replaced dates, when his duties swallowed the hours he once meant to give you. Even in those fragile moments before sunrise, when he'd find you curled up on the hilltop, faint snores slipping out with every exhale.
You always woke up. Always shifted over, inviting Gojo to rest beside you before he disappeared again. Whispering out all the right words that only you could make sound something like hope. As if you understood him better than he ever understood himself. And you did, because you lost Gojo in the midst of it all.
And how painfully oblivious he was to it all, how he mistook the strain in your voices for whispers, never questioning why you stopped meeting his eyes, because if he looked, he would've seen the tears you refused to let fall in front of him. He would've seen the moment he started losing you.
Gojo thought he had carried a burden on his own, yet the entire time, you too had felt the same unrelenting ache in your heart.
He used to wonder when you would leave him behind, but it seems like he beat you to it.
But by the time he had realized, you already turned nineteen, graduating alongside him.
You still smiled at him, talked to him like there was no tomorrow, but it was never the same. Not when you avoided his touches, slowly pulling away with every swallow of your words. Changing the topic when it became more than talk of the weather.
And during the late nights, you weren't there anymore, only a moonlight's shadow of what once was, the pads of his fingers trailing his lips, but it never felt like yours.
It was a slow fade over the years, like a gentle breeze, albeit never as fervent as the storm of emotions you stirred in him.
Gojo watched the leaves change from ochre to amber, until they lay in a puddle beneath the tree, lost count of the once-lively rivers freezing over, and waited for the summer heat to kiss the sweltering air of spring showers away.
Seasons faded into one another, and time waited for no one. Selfishly so, Gojo didn't think it applied to you. But you always proved him wrong.
You were here and there — but never with him.
And it haunted him, because you never let him believe his convoluted lies. Breaking the illusion that you'd always be there. Reminding him of your world's distance, that he couldn't be there for you.
And now at twenty-eight, he'll smile as his fingers trace the carved out wood, let out a breathless laugh when he opens his wallet, losing himself in a candid polaroid of you.
You were smiling, staring out into the horizon with a cigarette between your teeth, stained in your cherry lip gloss.
But now you smile wider, and your laughter sounds fuller, floral perfume replacing the chemical tar that stuck to you. You became the light everyone sought, a haven that only your voice could promise.
And yet, he can't help but feel bitter about it because Gojo Satoru is still mourning the girl who is still alive. The one he sees every day but never got to say goodbye.
But there lives a time when you were more than a memory, far more than transient love.
How, before distance, there was intimacy. Where your gaze was more than just fleeting. A soft dream that lived beyond closed eyes.
Yet, you're still a call away, but he isn't so sure you would pick up. A classroom's distance, but you're no longer the girl who entertains his antics.
You became unrecognizable — a stranger, and the only way Gojo Satoru can bear it is by living in the 'what if's.'
A life where he wiped away your tears.
Suppose it were him holding you, caressing you, telling you everything would be okay, let him carry every burden you never deserved to shoulder alone. Would things have turned out differently?
His penthouse was dim, far too big for one person, the fireplace untouched and gathering dust, footsteps echoing of what could have been. If he hadn't left you behind, would you still be there to bring it to life? To finally open the bottle of wine aging quietly in the back of his cupboard, pour a glass with him as you curl into his embrace, legs tangled together—a future where you welcomed his touch like instinct.
A future that never slipped from his grasp, shared solely between the two of you.
It was a strange feeling, because that world only existed in Gojo's dreams. Strange in all the wrong ways because he still waits on the same hilltop, a spot carved out perfectly for you, hope lingering in the pit of his stomach that maybe you'd show up looking for him.
To tell him that it was always more than just a dream.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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syn. your husband helps you hide from your energetic three year old. girl dad gojo
requested!! my first requested post who cheered 731 words
you’re tired. feel it in your bones and can barely drag your feet along to the couch. perhaps you're coming down with something. or it was just your day today.
six am; you woke up to your three-year-old daughter, saori, tugging at the blankets and insisting it was time to get up and get ready for her friend's birthday party.
it in fact, was not time. the party started at twelve.
satoru took her back to her bed. and then you tried to fall back asleep. but by then you were awake. and the little devil was blissfully fast asleep in her own bed.
by eight you'd given up on sleep and started making breakfast.
at nine satoru left for a mission. ten, you took saori to the grocery store. and at eleven it was time to get ready for the party and leave.
it's four. you just got home. all you need now is to eat your cookies in peace.
saori has other plans.
“mama! mamaaaa!” she chirps, tugging at your leg, already vibrating with leftover birthday-party sugar. she’d had cake, juice, candy—enough sweetness to power a small city. playing with her right now would absolutely end in tears. yours.
you slip into the pantry, easing the door shut as quietly as possible, and immediately shove a cookie into your mouth like a criminal. guilt pricks at you—hiding from your own child? what kind of mother are you?
but you’re exhausted. you just need two minutes. two minutes and your cookies. then you'll actually play with her. give her all the attention she could possibly need.
outside, you hear her little footsteps pattering through the house.
“mama? where are you?” she calls, confused but cheerful.
you wince, chewing faster and gulping down guilt and chocolate chips.
then the front door opens. satoru’s home early.
“papa!” saori squeals instantly, abandoning her search entirely.
you hear him laugh, that bright, animated sound, followed by the familiar exaggerated grunt of him scooping her up. “hey, angel! how was your day? did you have fun at the party?”
your smile softens as you lean against the shelf, still chewing. you should go out there. say hi. play with her.
then—
“papa,” saori says seriously, “i can’t find mama anywhere!”
you freeze. what a tattler.
he hums, thoughtful. “oh? that’s strange.” a pause. “did you check her closet? mama loooves her clothes.”
saori gasps. “no!” she squirms and he lets her down. then—tiny feet pounding upstairs. “i go check!”
“good idea,” he calls after her. “i’ll check down here!”
you barely have time to swallow before the pantry door swings open.
caught.
he clicks his tongue, eyes dropping immediately to the cookie crumbs on your lips. “wow,” he says. “cruel, cruel woman. hiding from your own child.”
you sputter, mouth still half-full. “i-i was just—! it was only for a minute!”
he chuckles, stepping inside with you and shutting the door behind him. he wraps his arms around you easily, presses a kiss to the top of your head. “mm. figured.”
“how did you know?” you whisper.
he shrugs. “pantry’s the first place i’d hide if i was stealing cookies.”
you sigh, defeated.
“hey,” he murmurs, brushing crumbs from your cheek with his thumb. “i’m gonna take her to the park for a couple hours. you eat all the cookies you want.”
your eyes widen. “a–are you sure? you just got home.”
you kiss him slow and grateful and his hand slides to the back of your head, deepening it just a little because you taste like cookies, and he knows this is the closest he’s ever gonna be to getting to one. you're territorial about your sweets.
he pulls away when he hears saori’s footsteps returning. gives your nose a quick peck. “okaybyeloveyou,” he says rapidly, slipping out and shutting the pantry door like nothing happened.
“no luck, huh?” he asks saori, leaning against the door casually.
she shakes her head. “uh-uh.”
he hums, pretending to think. “well… maybe we’ll find mama…”
a beat.
“…at the park?”
“PARK!?” saori jumps, eyes lighting up.
and then he's bringing her to the front to put her shoes on. leaving you alone with your cookies.
i definitely wanted to write something longer for this request but omg guys i just finished reading othello for literature class and i wanna die my brain isn't working after all that i hate reading shakespearean SO BAD n e ways will possibly return to this for a part two if i think of one! i absolutely love girl dad gojo
HI THIS IS VANNIE FROM THE NEXT DAY FORGOT TO CRED DIVIDERS OMG STUPID GIRL first one from @suupersonic here and second from @bhavihelps here !! saur kyoot
romaincrisis
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theartofmadeline
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