Demon Slayer X Studio Ghibli

i like this sukuna...

ᴄᴏᴜʀᴛɪɴɢ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ

featuring: protective!heian!sukuna, kindhearted!servant!reader. slight angst/hurt -> comfort. synopsis: you're sick. to your surprise, you're rescued by the man second closest to death himself. masterlist

you should've known he wouldn't come. sukuna has never set foot in the servant's headquarters in his life, let alone to chase after a sick servant. you lower your head, trying to ease the headache that has plagued you through the day.

sukuna loves his bloodshed and his gore. him and death would be good friends, you think to yourself. he wouldn't care if your body was burnt or buried, you think to yourself; wouldn't care if you died at all.

the room the others put you in is empty. ash spreads neatly over the cold floor. the scent of kibble haunts the atmosphere. it's where they put the dogs before sukuna killed them.

ever since you took care of the king of curses while he was sick, the other servants had been careful in keeping a distance from you. not in ill of heart; they're simply terrified at what you must've done to survive in your week long stay with the monster. honestly, you don't blame them.

but now when you're laying on the freezing ground, struggling to breathe, it's hard not to.

'this is where you live?'

your eyes look up. shock. then, with all the strength you can muster, you heave yourself one step away from the man at the doorway, which only serves to piss him off more.

sukuna ryomen, in all his glory, looks down at you. bending down to pick you up like a limp doll to be seated against the wall, he seems to revel in his regained strength. you can't help but feel happy for him, to have survived this fatal disease. not many men can attest to that...

then again, he is no ordinary man.

'i asked you a question.'

you nod, a small thing, barely a movement. he seems to clench his teeth.

he takes off his long white coat, flaunting a layer of dried blood, and drapes it over your shoulders.

yet it doesn't end there. he retrieves from his pocket a bottle of what looks to be a golden syrup.

you know exactly what it is.

he takes your hand and wraps it around the flask, making you hold it, sparing, not one, but two of his eyes, to stare at you, making sure you do as he commands.

'swallow.'

you shake your head. you know he's asking you to do. this is a medication is so rare for your disease that no sorcerer has found in over a hundred years. he's brought this thing of myth right to your very lips. now he's asking you to drink it, and thus take away any chance of it saving anyone else's life.

you scowl, but the tickling sensation in your throat grows stronger, eventually erupting out of your mouth in a harsh cough. you look away from sukuna.

'leave,' you whisper, weakly. 'don't wanna infect you.'

'i survived the illness already. i've developed an immunity.'

you shake your head again. you couldn't threaten your king's health with your own weakness. you just couldn't.

'i can't take this.'

he growls. without any notice, he swallows your lips in a kiss. in the momentary haze, you could hardly resist, fisting the front of his kimono to ground yourself. then, you feel something sweet, honey-ish, hit your tongue.

with his hand locked on your chin, it forces you to swallow.

you pull back, pushing him away. he groans.

he wipes his mouth, still with two eyes staring.

no... no, why did he do that?

'y-you- how? no... why did you waste it on me?' you whisper, desperately searching his face for an answer. 'i'm just a servant. you could've given it to a princess, or a scholar, or priest-'

he grabs you by the arm and forces you into his arms. its heat astounds you, and you find yourself crawling closer. a vague thumping sound seems to press against your ear-

oh. you calm your breathing.

it's his heartbeat.

alive.

'sleep in my room tonight,' he demands.

what did he say? you strain your mind, trying to replay what he said earlier. no... maybe you heard correctly.

'but i'm no concubine,' you respond, instantly.

his arm supports your waist, helping you up effortlessly to your feet. he then directs two of his eyes to the doorway, his cadence low and domineering.

'it doesn't matter.'

he leads you placidly through the servant's quarters. you notice all conversation cease at your entry, bodies dropping into a low bow. a small voice in you whispers that it's where you should be too. you tug at sukuna's arm.

'i'm only a servant, sukuna.'

you know what it looks like, a servant clutching onto a man, more god than human. a man who has slaughtered villages, blood staining the base of his kimono crimson, and turned half a province on its head, just to save you.

'whatever you are in my eyes is what you are to the world,' he states, his expression unchanging. 'if i deem you a queen, that is who you are.'

exiting the servant compound, you know you can't say no- not like you wanted to. the wide expanse of his chest is comforting.

yet however sweet this feeling remains, you can't help but gulp. perhaps this is the closest a human has ever come to courting death.

as sad as it is, it's beautiful...

loml - Gojo Satoru

summary: You read the letter that Satoru left behind, his last words to you, with all the love he had.

tags: heavy angst, character death, no happy ending, canon universe, manga spoilers (I guess)

note: sorry… but I got emotional with Gojo writing letters for his students and this came to me. Sorry again 🩶

Jujutsu Kaisen materialist

You are the love of my life

That’s what Satoru would say on a spring day when you were 20.

You are the love of my life

He would say whenever he kissed you before sleeping.

You are the love of my life 

He would whisper while embracing you, after a long day of missions.

You are the love of my life 

He would say whenever he had the opportunity, it didn't matter if it was just the two of you or in front of the whole world.

You are the love of my life

He said before leaving you to fight Sukuna on that cold Christmas Eve.

To the loml

That was the first thing your eyes saw on the letter that Shoko handed you. The loml You read again. And again.

You smiled a bit, “loml” why not write love of my life instead?

Your hands were cold, you blamed the cold winter, but the reality was that you were frozen staring at that envelope, your hands unable to tear the paper to read what was inside. Your chest hurt, the cold air stabbed your lungs like daggers, and you could barely breathe.

You made a small opening with your nails and pulled out the paper, which was neatly folded. With your eyes already stinging, you unfolded it.

“To the love of my life,

I don’t know how to start this, I don’t even know how to put down everything I want to tell you. But god, I pray you never have to read this silly and embarrassing letter.

But if you do… I’m sorry, I didn’t get to keep my promise, I’m really sorry.

You crying? Please don’t do it, you look beautiful too when you cry, but thinking about how much pain I’m probably causing you breaks my heart.

I will try to make you smile with this letter, is that alright? I hope you said yes. 

Remember when we met? It was the first day of our first year, you looked so beautiful, your red cheeks and shy smile. I don’t believe in love at first sight but I think that what I fell for you right after seeing you was love, light. You were mesmerizing. 

You still are.

Now, you remember how Suguru used to look like a complete emo boy during that time, with all his hair down and everything? You know, I used to be so jealous when you were combing his hair. I wanted to be him so badly, but my hair was too short. Thank god he learned how to do it himself.

But honestly, I told him to, he was getting on my nerves.”

A chuckle escaped your lips as you read that, you knew that at some point Satoru felt a bit jealous of Suguru, because you used to spend more time together. 

But the truth is that Suguru was always trying to help you with Satoru, he was his best friend and he knew him better than anyone. You regret never telling Satoru about that, about the fact you were both crushing each other since the very beginning. 

Looking up to the sky you tried to make your tears disappear, but they didn’t. You sniffed your nose and kept on reading the letters that were already covered with tears from your eyes.

“Remember when I took Tsumiki and Megumi in? We had been dating for what? 4 months? Your face was a poem when I showed up at your apartment with two kids and presented them to you. 

You were an excellent mother to them, they loved you so much. 

I remember the birthdays, how we would prepare their cakes or in Christmas, how we used to sneak out of bed to leave the presents for them. I would always thought; oh god, I want to marry her. I want to spend the rest of my days with her. Have a family with her.

But you know, reality always hit me the second after. What our jobs are, the risks, everything… And I always wondered. Do I want to put you through that? What if I leave one day? I didn’t  want my children to grow up without their father or mother. 

I hated it, but I loved it. I loved fighting curses and strong opponents but I hated not knowing what it was to have a normal life, a normal relationship. 

I know you used to hate how I used to spy on you whenever you had a solo mission, but every time you went on a solo mission I was scared, terrified. I was afraid that the phone would ring and Shoko would tell me that you were no longer there. It scared me so much.

But now the one who must have been truly scared was you… I just hope you didn’t see the fight, but I know how stubborn you are and you were probably there, without blinking. I’m sorry I made you suffer, I don’t know what happened, but I’m sorry you’re crying for me. 

I’ll say it again, I hope you never read this letter, because it was never necessary… 

In the end I didn’t make you laugh with the letter, right? 

Forgive me, sweetheart. 

I love you, more than anything in this life. You are and always will be the love of my life. But if I leave and I’m not with you anymore, please, don’t close yourself off, don’t isolate yourself.

Live, be happy, smile, because that smile of yours is the warmest thing in this world.

Light up everyone else's world, just like you did with mine when we were 15 and you gave me that smile at our first meeting.

I love you forever 

— The love of your life, Satoru.”

A sob escaped your lips and you pressed the letter to your chest. Your face was completely soaked by your tears and your breathing was ragged, you could barely breathe. 

“Why Satoru? Why you?” You said between sobs.

You wanted that life he was talking about, you wanted to have him with you again, why couldn't it be like that?

He was gone and you were there, holding a piece of paper he left behind, with his last words, his last thoughts. 

You didn’t want to let it go, you couldn’t. If you let him go… You would start to forget things, moments you lived, his smell, his laugh, his voice, his look, you couldn't let him go. You couldn't let go of the love of your life. You didn't want to.

The minutes started to pass and the sun, which was once shining on the sky, was now gone. 

Your name was called. “You have to enter or you will catch a cold…”

“Just a bit more…” You said and you heard the sigh. 

“C’mon.” You felt how they took your arm and pulled you in. “You need to take your medicine, remember?” You nodded. “That letter is really special to you, right? You always read it.” 

“Yeah…” You whispered. 

“From someone special in your life?” 

Yeah… from someone you already could only remember from pictures, from someone whose voice was a distant memory, from someone whose smell was long gone, whose laugh wasn’t around anymore. 

And it hadn’t been around for the last 60 years… 

“Yeah… from the love of my life…” You paused. “The loss of my life...” You whispered. 

The room felt silent for an instant. “Your son and grandkids are here…” The nurse whispered.

And a faint smile appeared on your face as you looked at the door. “Hi my sweet babies…” The kids ran towards you and jumped to your bed.

“Granny! Could you tell us the stories about you and your friends fighting those monsters?”

“Again?” You smiled.

“Yeah, please!” 

“Alright, alright…” You chuckled. “So long time ago…” 

🥹...did i forget to mention i love a naked satoru?

ENTRY #11 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // I starve for your touch yet fear to savor it.

contents: arranged marriage!au, nudity, reader discretion is advised — wc. 1690

a/n: there was no way i wouldn't write a fic based on this picture. just no way.

series masterlist

Satoru loves to sleep naked.

The beauty of his innate technique, the blessing that he mastered to no end, has stripped him off one of the most basic human needs — touch. He wasn’t missing it that much, he thought, but there was something in letting go of everything and allowing himself to be wrapped in the silky layers of bedsheets that made his body crave the feeling.

He has always picked expensive garments, the ones with soft fabrics and luxurious feel, despite everyone telling him it’s unreasonable to spend so much on a shirt or a pair of trousers, but to him, it did matter. To him, that was the only thing touching his body when a thin layer of infinity effectively forced everything else back. To Satoru, touch was forbidden, threatening. It was a vulnerability that he, the strongest, couldn’t afford.

But that until he’s met you. Until he’s married you.

You were one of not many people he’s made an exception for. You were able to touch him whenever you wanted because the protective surface of endless matter let you in. Because he himself altered his technique to make you capable of laying your hands on his body.

He longed for your touch. So soft, and delicate, and warm. He craved more of it and yet, despite being shameless and confident, he has not allowed himself to sleep bare even once since the day you and him were bound by the knot of matrimony. It would cross boundaries he wasn’t sure you’d wish to cross; it would make you uncomfortable, awkward maybe — and he liked the way your relationship looked like now. He liked the late evenings you talked quietly, alone and intimate in the warm embrace of sheets and your own house.

For you, he let go of the way he used to sleep before because you were worth the sacrifice, but now, you were gone for few days. You were sent on a mission away from Tokyo and the hours Satoru spent alone in bed, thinking of nothing more but your fingertips on top of his skin, made him desperate — and so, he allowed himself the comfort of soft cotton and silk.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You were tired. Exhausted even, by the intense fight you had to pull through, by the uncomfortable nights spent in the dingy hotel room, by the humid weather and rains. In moments like this, there was nothing you envied more in the world than your husband’s ability to warp from one place to another, but you got lucky. Incredibly so, because Ijichi offered you a ride home two days earlier than you were supposed to head back and you thanked all gods and devils for that man’s kindness. He was willing to put on some more road just to get you home.

“Thank you so, so much, Ijichi,” you kissed his cheek — a ghost of a peck that made him all red and steamy and you felt giddy for a moment, seeing the tips of his ears turn crimson. Adorable. You liked him, he was dutiful, polite, trustworthy and constantly terrorized by your husband, so you were determined to at least be the Gojo he likes.

“You’re very welcome,” he mumbled and fixed the frames on the bridge of his nose, pushing them up with the tip of his pointer finger. “Have a good rest.”

“You too, Ijichi.”

Then, he was gone and you were stepping into the house with a deep sense of relief washing over you. Home sweet home. If you were to guess, it was most likely somewhere around 4 am, way too early for anyone to be up — especially your husband — so you gave it your all to stay as quiet as possible. The sun was just showing its first rays from way below the horizon line, crawling up with golden hues and breaking the nightly, navy darkness.

On your toes you moved across the house. It seemed as if Gojo was spending his time alone quite ordinarily — you saw a modest stack of empty takeout boxes, much less humble pile of candy wrappers and his uniform jacket thrown over the couch backrest, along with few other little items that you struggled to differentiate in the nocturnal haze.

You put down your bag, hung up your coat and pushed off the shoes. Ghosting your way towards the bathroom, you were desperate to wash away the combat residuals. You lathered up the shower gel in a rush, desperate to rest and sleep in the comfort of your own bed and then, wrapped in the towel, you tippy-toed to the bedroom, but—

“Came back earlier?”

—you truly didn’t expect to be met with a sight like this. Your husband was awake, just barely, most likely awaken by the water running in the bathroom. His eyes were closed, hidden underneath his forearm and shielded from the lights that were slowly creeping inside, between the dark curtains and onto his face. His body seemed relaxed between the sheets. The softest, gentlest lines of golden glimmer that painted its patterns over his uncovered chest and leg, his hip and one of the muscular arms. The duvet was covering less than half of him, hiding a part of his stomach, the other leg and—

“You’re staring.”

Satoru didn’t even have to look at you to know that your gaze was lingering on his frame. On his very, very naked frame, just barely concealed by the comforter.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, feeling the heat creeping up your cheeks and reaching the tips of your ears and you thanked the darkness for hiding it away. You walked around the bed, hoping to find your pajama where you left it and trying to force your head out of the gutter. You heard your husband letting out a deep exhale and then, a soft hum. His voice was as melodic as always, though you could tell how much sleepiness was laced into it.

Satoru should’ve notice you when you entered the area of your house, but he didn’t. Tired by his own job, by the classes and all of the meetings, he allowed himself to lower his guard and when he realized you’re home, he contemplated for a moment getting up and dressed, but he just didn’t want to.

“You’re exhausted, screw pajamas, just come here,” he said before he managed to think twice about it. It was a daring offer, inappropriate even and he opened his mouth to apologize for it, but then, you rendered him speechless.

Your weight felt good on top of him. You lay your body over his own with feathery gentleness and carefully maneuvered your way to rest on his chest completely. The touch of your skin flush to his own made his brain to short circuit, it felt divine, too good to be true and just so very right, he couldn’t say a word.

“Is that alright?” You asked quietly, pressing your ear right above his heart and letting out a breath that you held for a little too long. Your face felt hot, you were flushed and flustered but also oddly at ease with the current position and you wondered for a moment if it was the tiredness that made you so bold.

“More than that,” he replied, pulling the covers to hide you beneath them. He allowed one of his arms to snake around your waist and his lips to kiss the top of your head. “Rest. Sleep well, wifey.”

“Good night.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

10:19 AM

Satoru thought he was dreaming, but the weight on top of him felt too real. The soft scent of citrusy shower gel that lingered on your skin filled in his lungs each time he took a breath in and there was a tickle, he realized — every time his chest raised, a strand of your hair seemed to be moving against his jawline. You were not a dream.

He opened his eyes, blinking few times, adjusting them to the bright light that forced its way into the bedroom and then, he looked at you. You were still very deep asleep, he could tell based off the long inhales you were taking, slow and relaxed, fanning against his peck rhythmically. Your body was mostly on top of him, you were on his chest, your leg was between his and only your hips were resting on the bed. He still had his arm around you, as if making sure you were as close as possible.

It felt incredible. Intimate. It was everything he could have wished for. A touch, skin to skin, so intense it almost took his breath away. He felt nauseous at the thought, realizing that it’s the first time in his life, he’s that close to someone. So impossibly close that just a little bit more and you’d become a part of him. His heartbeat quickened.

It was so right. So awfully correct and at the same time, so very threatening. He felt helpless. Vulnerable. He was at your mercy, he was robbed of everything what made him the strongest, because at this very moment, he was bare. Uncovered before you, wrapped in an embrace that felt loving, that felt soothing, addicting, but if you only wished to hurt him, you’d—

You moved, shifting your weight a little bit, adjusting the position and the way your hand run down his side made him shiver. A soft sound escaped your throat when you let out a deeper exhale. He felt your fingers squeezing the flesh above his hip and then, you relaxed again.

“Your heart is beating so fast,” you whispered, not bothering to open your eyes, and Satoru held his breath. “Relax…”

And he chuckled. His chest vibrated below your ear and the adorable sound of displeasure you let out made him lose all of the tension. He turned, twisting his body inside your embrace to face you fully and he squeezed you with both of his arms, pulling you close. So impossibly close, and you whimpered, suddenly enclosed in a tight hold of your husband’s limbs. That was it for your sleep.

You could get used to it.

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🩷

I love Emi so much

thantophobia(b.wayne)

(n.) fear of losing someone you love

🎶: Loneliness by Adrian Von Ziegler

warning: fem!reader, fluffy, sad, almost made me weep hearing with the music.

"You didn't wanna lose me so you pushed me away to keep me safe."

"To protect you from the dangers that come with knowing me."

"Did your plan work?"

Bruce stepped closer towards her, taking hold of her hands, running his thumb across the back, "Yeah, it did…until it didn't."

"What?"

"I couldn't protect you from my heart. You gave me all the love one could only dream of. You showed me that there is some kindness, some good still left in this grim world. I pushed you away to protect that. But the further you were the more my heart wanted you. I wanted you. I craved you. I still do."

He placed her hands on his face, holding them there with his own, losing himself in their warmness. Nothing had changed, it was just as soft as it had always been. Bruce couldn't help but close his eyes and relax. He hadn't slept the night before, and her hands were so delicate he almost fell asleep. With her palms going damp, Bruce could sense Natasha was nervous. He was too, realising his words only after they were spoken but, to be honest, he didn't care. He had been suppressing his feelings for thirteen years, believing it was for her sake. But with the Riddler kidnapping her, and the Batman coming to an end he cannot go without letting her know.

Natasha felt her face and ears go intensely warm. Her heart fluttered at his every word. She was stunned, to say the least. She kept opening her mouth but her words escaped her due to the huge lump in her throat. She felt like screaming and crying. She wanted to tell him everything, about how she felt, how angry she was at him, and tell him how incredibly she was in love with him. The frustration of it all made her vision go blurry, she wasn't aware until drops of salty water trickled down her face. It was all just too much.

Hearing tiny sniffles, Bruce opened to an upset Natasha, tears dripping down one after the other. So he did the one thing his mother always did for him whenever he was upset. He dropped her hands gently, stood chest to chest, and held her face between his. He was holding her so delicately, so cautiously, like a cloud that he didn't wanna let go and that only made her weep even more. He gazed at her, running his thumb under her eyes before pulling her in.

He felt her relax after freezing for a second, tucking her head in between the broad planes of his chest and throwing her arms around him, adjusting herself to be more comfortable in his warm, tight embrace. Still sobbing, Natasha gripped his shirt, clutching onto it like it is the only thing that is keeping her from breaking into shards. He felt his shirt dampen but he didn't dare stop her. It was too much for him too, confessing his devotion to the only girl he ever loved knowing that this might be his last chance.

Bruce loves Natasha; he would die for her, he would kill for her. His love for her is limitless, eternal. His heart will always belong to her even when he is gone. With Natasha in his arms, nothing else mattered.

Not the Riddler,

Not the Penguin,

Not Gotham,

Not his family's legacy,

Not Batman.

comment, like, reblog💙

p.s took the liberty to give the reader a name cuz tbh im not on board the 'y/n' idea, so please excuse me😊

so cute, i wish i was a fictional character just so i could have this 🤎 *im sure im not the only one*

Hii! Can i request a drabble of ken sato being japan’s spider man ? (Of the scenario given below)

(It’s like peter parker and gwen kinda of love, where the reader is like gwen or whatever you would like to present her c: )

That one scene where peter is injured and gwen sneaks him in her room and then tends to his wounds while peter is just downright SMITTEN and distracted like omg 😩. And then they discuss that he should stop the lizard (in this case the kaiju) etc etc. like that scene! (I hope you know this scene from the amazing spider man- 😅)

IM SO SORRY IF THIS REQUEST IS TOO LONG— i just love your work! And i got inspired to request this because of that post where you were like “omg imagine he was spider man—“

Anyways- love you lodes ! Xoxo

Omg I love the amazing spider man?! Seeing you guys request literally brings joy to my heart. 🫶🏼 Don’t apologize for a long request you can keep it coming, honey. ☺️ Reqs are always open! I’M SORRY IF IT DIDN’T TURN OUT THE WAY YOU WANTED IT TO BE😭 (Wanna read a Kenji fic on wp?👀 -> Bloop. Yes, I am promoting myself. Header by @/cafekitsune. IF YOU GUYS HAVE ANY IDEAS ON POSTING KENJI SATO IN A SPIDERMAN SUIT OR WHATEVER IN THIS STORY INSPIRED YOU TO DO IT, TAG ME RIGHT AWAY IF IT’S ON TIKTOK GAWH DAMN TAG MEMEME @kromeihl)

TRUTH BENEATH THOSE SCARS

-> SPIDERMAN!KENJI SATO X READER

WARNING(s): NOT PROOFREAD, Mentions of injuries, blood, a bit of cursing, a lil’ suggestive ;)

I type away in my laptop, finishing a project I was given, to publish soon. It was a newspaper article about Spiderman, of course. I couldn’t help but laugh silently knowing I have to act suspicious about his identity as I type down words.

I hear a loud tap coming from my window, I shook my head knowing it’s probably just some birds, continuing to type. After a few seconds a knock came back, a little louder this time.

I sigh, turning my chair to look, noticing it was him, Kenji Sato. I smile, turning my chair back as I continue to type. “The window’s open, Ken! Come in, I’m just finishing off this article.”

You hear the window open, no response from him. That was weird, he’d usually reply after you speak, cracking a joke or distracting you from your work.

“Ken?” You call out, about to look but still typing, feeling a bit weird from the silence. You hear a small thud, making you stop typing, looking at him as he struggles to sit on the couch. You notice the blood on the side of his forehead.

He could go back home to get tended but of course he chose to come to you. Is he really there for you to help him or something..More?

You quickly rush to him, hitting your leg on the chair in the process, falling on the floor. Kenji couldn’t help but laugh, feeling the pain on his chest making him wince.

“Stop laughing!” You say, embarrassed, quickly getting up to check up on him. “What happened?” You look at him worriedly, seeing the big scratch on his chest, that tore up his suit. “Kaiju attack..” He struggles to say, leaning his head back on the arm of your couch.

“Why the heck can’t you just sit properly?” You mutter, your hands shaking at the sight of his bloody injury. He chuckles, “You’re really scolding me right now? I need some help, ya know?” He teases, moving his hand to your wrist.

“I’m okay, stop shaking.” He smiles softly, earning a sigh from you as you tried to calm down. “Right.” You say, before hearing a knock from your door. I curse silently, searching for my mini refrigerator.

I quickly run to it, opening it as I grab a cold can of soda. “Here, uhm.. Maybe it’ll stop the bleeding for a while?” You panic, giving him the can of soda as he quickly moves away from the couch, hiding, just incase the person that knocked will come in.

I walk up to the door, glancing at Kenji before opening the it slightly. “Heyyyy, Ami!” Kenji furrowed his brows at your greeting, right, you were best friends with Ami Wakita, the person that interviews him way too much when he’s out with his other job, a famous baseball player.

“Chiho wants to play with y—“

“Sorry. I can’t I’m busy!” You say, slightly raising your voice, after an awkward silence, you lean your body against the door frame, one hand holding the door behind for it to stay in place.

“I mean..The project you gave me is just sooo difficult! I just need to work really hard and think. I need to publish it as soon as possible!” You say, trying to sound convincing. “I’ll play with Chiho tomorrow morning! I can babysit her, if you want.” You smile sheepishly.

Ami gives you an amused look, “Uhm, okay.. I’ll be in the kitchen. Do you wa—“ “I don’t need anything!” You quickly cut off, laughing awkwardly afterwards. “I could just bring it into your room—“ “Nope! All good, thanks Ami!” You smile, earning a nod from her.

“Uhm..No worries, [Name]. Good night.” She smiles before leaving. “Good night!” You close the door after, locking it. You glance at Kenji who was still behind the couch, now drinking the can of soda.

“Kenji!” You scold, going to him as you try to grab the soda which he swiftly moved away. “What? You gave me a soda, might as well drink it.” He shrugs, drinking the can again as you pull away.

“Seriously? Drink water!” You huff, walking to your cabinet, finding a cloth, towel, bandaid, and some ointment. “Says the one who drinks anything but water.” He retorts, sitting back on the couch improperly.

“Yeah, yeah.” You sigh, grabbing a chair as you place it in front of him, placing the things you got on your lap. You brush away his hair, holding it in place as you grabbed the wet towel and gently wiped the blood off his face. He winces from the pain, closing his eyes.

You can’t help but stare at his face, he’s incredibly handsome.. And knowing he was a famous baseball player, surely a ton of pretty girls would agree. Your train of thoughts cut off as Kenji smirks, making you realize that you’ve been staring for too long.

“Like what you see?” He teases, earning an eye roll from you. “No.” You say after, “Then you probably love it then.” He chuckles, making you deepen the towel on his head. “Owww!” He whines, grabbing your hand as he pulls you in making your upper body, lay on his chest.

“Don’t do that.” He says in a stern voice, making your cheeks heat up. “Gosh,” You clear your throat, sitting back up as Kenji moves his hand away from yours. “Come on, let’s hurry. You need to defeat that Kaiju.” You say, putting the ointment then placing a bandaid on his scar.

“Yeah. yeah.” He says, removing the upper part of his suit so you could tend his injury. You pause for a moment, taking in the sight in front of you, he slowly puts his hand on your head. “Come on, you could see more of that later.” He teased.

You slapped his hand away, grabbing the towel as you softly wipe away the blood. He sigh, feeling relief, yet pain still present as you move the towel around his bloody chest. He stares at you for a moment, your messy hair, pretty face, your hands so gentle as you help him.

“You’re gorgeous..” He mumbles, earning a glance from you, “Hm?” You say, gaze back on his wound. “N—Nothing.” He stutters, before clearing his throat. There was a peaceful silence between you, the sound of you wiping was the only noise present.

He felt his hand move towards your face as you start putting ointment on his wound, gently putting a strand of hair behind your ear. You freeze, shivering at his touch. He slowly puts his hand back, continuing to stare right at you.

You notice his longing gaze, yet continue, to finish tending his wound. After a while, you were finally done, him wearing his suit properly again. He groans, adjusting himself on the couch. You put away the things as you gave him small glances.

“Thanks, [Nickname]. You’re the best.” You felt your heart beat fast, walking back to the chair as you smile softly. “No problem, just.. Be more careful, okay? I don’t want you sneaking in my room all injured again.” You huff, earning a soft laugh from Ken.

“You should go.” You say sadly, “I don’t want to.” He declines. “You should. The city needs you.” You look away, feeling disappointed of how you were pushing him away now. “I need you.”

You felt your heart drop at his words, mouth agape as you couldn’t find words to speak. He has that signature cocky smirk of his, plastered on his face as he gently sits up, slowly moving his face towards you. You felt a hand on the back of your head as he caresses it gently.

“N—No. You need to go back to the city. The kaiju will— I mean, it might—“ You stutter feeling him slowly closing in the distance between your lips, his other hand gently placing it on your chin, his thumb brushing your bottom lip softly.

“Let the KDF handle it for a while, I need a reward for being such a great superhero. And you need one for being so good to me.” He says before closing in the gap between your lips. You melt into his touch, feeling your hand snake around his neck as he pulls you in closer.

It took a while before you both pull apart, panting for air as he moves away your hair from your face. “Bug boy” you mutter, smiling at him. “Hm?” He smirks, his arms slowly moving on the sides of your chair, leaning down as you move your body backwards.

“Pretty girl.” He smiles, making your cheeks heat up. You both hear the Kaiju screeching, making you both wince from the loud sound. Kenji groans, making you laugh. “Great timing, I was just getting started.” He sighs, standing up as he walks to the window.

“Stay safe, Spiderman.” You smile, earning a grin from him, he pecks your lips one last time. “Lucky charm.” He winks before putting on his mask, spiderweb coming out from his hand.

“I’ll be back.” You look at him surprised before he leaves, making you look at his figure, slowly disappearing into the city.

“See you, Ken.”

kawaii 🩵

nice boys and sour hearts | satoru gojo x reader

wc: 4.6k cw: minor swearing, he refers to u as 'momma' once (its normal i promise) n i think thats about it post suguru defection, shoko typical smoking ; no established relationship b ur def more than friends

i didnt want this angst to be too intense so i made it super duper fluffy. hopes it tastes like strawberries to u cs it does in my head ; another one of those fics i whipped up to meet the weekend deadline b i’m actually proud of this one not proofread!

satoru hates arguing with you.

it bites at him; twists his heart from the inside out in such a gut-wrenching way that he can hardly stand seeing your nose wrinkle in frustration and your eyes narrow with impatience, let alone hear the words coming out of your mouth, dripping with venom and irritation directed at him. he's never been used to being on the receiving end.

it tastes sour; bitter on his tongue in a way he's never been accustomed to. his tastebuds only recognize the sweet taste of fruit syrup, powdered sugar, or warm chocolate as home; he never indulges in the bitter, like the black coffee the kid he took in seems to like so much. but he'll take the silly sour lemon drops with sweet cream in the center, only because they remind him of you. you, so sweet when you love but sour when you're annoyed, which happens to be now, in this instant.

of course, he'll tell himself he doesn't mind. that sweet and sour have always gone nicely together. like strawberry lemonade on hot summer afternoons when the both of you have had enough of being stuffed into a clammy hot classroom with your musclebrain teacher. sometimes its the three of you, maybe even the four of you if you get lucky with the pixie stick trade offering (a healthier alternative to a cigarette, you both agreed on). but nowadays, it was only ever the two of you. the bitter had chosen his own path, and tangy was locked up in the infirmary sun up to sun down.

but right now, you're upset with him. and he absolutely despises it— to him, it's abhorrent. a strong word, but it's only fitting. but he can't help it when your conversation lingers in his mind, spinning itself a web of self-doubt and hurt and anger as he slips his gym shoes off and redresses himself by the school lockers, running a hand through his hair with a forced, annoyed exhale.

it was nothing big, really. or at least, that's what he thinks. you'd been in the gym after school, watching as he messed around with the basketball, seeing how long he could go dribbling by himself with a bump of his knee there, pushing it to the floor with his hand and watching it bounce back up with mild interest. he had no one to play with, but at least the ball would come back up no matter how much he pushed it down.

it was small. barely worth fussing over.

he had already been irritated. it was hot out, because summer was coming around. sweat beaded on his neck and rolled down his chest, seeping into his shirt as he wiped his forehead and made another shoot at the hoop, landing back on his feet with a soft thud as the basketball rattled around the rusted metal ring and fell through the net for the nth time that afternoon.

a hum of approval comes from your throat, followed by a loud whistle of contentment from him as he watches the ball bounce on the floor. he hikes his sunglasses up his forehead, bringing an arm up and wiping away the sweat on his cheek with his sleeve as he turns to look at you.

"that was pretty good, yeah? i think i deserve a celebratory smooch. lay some sugar on me, momma'." he laughs, loud and arrogant. you just give him a pointed look at that, but he ignores it as a sign for something wrong and only acknowledges it as your dramatic endearment. like speeding up at the sight of a yellow light in hopes that you'll make it instead of slowing down at the warning.

his shoes made squeaking sounds on the gym floor as he made his way over to you, swiping his shades off his face and sliding them onto your forehead, nestling in your hair as he grabbed a rag from the bench and wiped the sweat from his jaw. you have his uniform jacket on your lap, the yellow button glinting in the dying sunlight filtering in through the windows, reflecting off indiscernible flecks of dust in the air.

you had watched him with quiet contentment, observing the languid way he moved, graceful like a dancer moving in water. but then, you seemed to remember something; his lips pressed into a thin line, tilted to one side in anticipation. it made you hesitate— he always knew when you were about to speak before you even opened your mouth. he had come to notice, and appreciate, little things about you like that.

"were you smoking with shoko?" you had asked him. he tilted his head, eyebrow cocked up as he made a face. "no, i wasn't. why d'ya ask?" he huffed, watching from the corner of his eye with mild disinterest as the basketball, still rolling from his previous goal, bumped into the wall. cocky as ever.

(he wouldn't even look you in the eye when you were being dead serious.)

you reach a hand into his jacket, fishing around for something in his pocket; that gets his attention. who knows what trinkets and candy wrappers he has in there? and he'd hate for you to send him to his yearly checkup early again; the nurses always try to coddle him, and he has half a mind to charge for battery. nevertheless, he almost mistakes what you pull out for a lollipop stick. but it's not— it's a cigarette; a white papery hit of cancer with a dead cherry. certainly not a wise idea to keep that in his pocket among the other very flammable wax wrappers and the occasional flower petal, but who were you to judge? you, who's lips pucker like they've just tasted lemon juice when he eyes the unlit cigarette, utterly unamused.

he knows that you know it's his; the subtle glistening of pink around the end points to the gloss on his lips; he can practically taste it on his tongue. he wonders if you'd put the cigarette to your mouth too if you could have a sample of his lipgloss; then again, you could always just ask for a lip-to-lip taste, and he'd indulge you without a second thought.

you twist the cigarette butt between your fingers so that he can see the remnants of faint strawberry pink on the edges. he just rolls his eyes with a loud huff, leaning his weight back on his heels and shoving his hands in his pant pockets.

"yeesh. you're such a goody two shoes, y'know? how come shoko's allowed to smoke 'n i'm not?" he drawls, an arrogant lilt to his voice as he sticks his lower lip out. you can see a matte spot where the gloss had been transferred to the cigarette paper. you just sigh exasperatedly (he feels like a kid when you do that) and lean forward, resting your elbows on your knees. his jacket bunches up in your lap.

you tap the cigarette to his chest a few times; it makes a soft thumping sound against the fabric, and for a moment he's grateful of the noise; it sounds just like the way his heartbeat picks up with each touch, but you don't hear it. he wonders if you ever will. maybe one day, when there isn't so much distance between you and he has the opportunity to tuck your head to his chest, right over his heart.

"it's not that i care about the lung damage, idiot. why were you smoking?" you asked, voice softening. and he absolutely hates when you do that, because it always pulls on his heartstrings and brings a flush to his face, the way you treat him. he thought that if you did it enough, he'd be sent to the doctor for heart palpitations instead of a sweet tooth.

he doesn't answer you at that. how could he tell you, when he knew all that'd result from it was a thorn in his side? you, being the rose. so beautiful but awfully prickly and unfairly sour like a lemondrop with a sweet inside. then again, he'd much rather have your interrogating care than lose you, like what had happened with the reason he was trying out smoking in the first place.

then, it happened— your voice went unbearably soft, like puffy white covers and featherlight pillows with silk covers on a saturday morning, looking out the window to see pink tulips against a cloudy blue sky as the sun streamed in. it almost made him want to clutch your hand over his chest and see if you could feel the way he was reacting. no doubt, it was filled with such patient tenderness; all-encompassing sweetness it made him want to cry. so he coughed to cover it up, averting his gaze and bringing one hand to his face to absentmindedly smooth down the strands of damp white hair hanging over his eyes.

"thinkin' about suguru again, are you?" you asked gently, tucking the cigarette back into your pocket—yours, not his—and reaching out to take his hand.

his lips parted ever so slightly, gaping like a goldfish. he knew he looked silly, and he should've been okay with that— because being vulnerable with you, out of everyone he ever knew (with maybe the exception of one) was easier than breathing; came more naturally to him than his gravitation to a challenge. the same could be said for sweets.

(maybe he'd have to re-evaluate his proclaimed taste, then. since you were more sour than sweet.)

but this time, he wasn't okay with it. it had been hard to talk about what had happened with suguru one year ago since— it formed a nasty lump in his throat, bitter like black coffee and the wrong mix of herbs. it made him feel weak. reminding him of his shortcomings, which, in his mind, shouldn't even exist in the first place. but you never had a problem ripping his problems from the shielded cavity in his gut, bringing them under the operator's light to dissect and solve like a surgeon. forget about forcing him to the doctor's— at this point, you should be the one in the white coat, not shoko. he thinks about what you'd look like with blue gloves on your delicate fingers for a moment too long.

"what's it to you?" he snaps back after what feels like three years of his life. his fingers tighten around yours for a moment before he pulls his hand away abruptly.

the frown that lingered on your face from then on had been burned into his memory.

and, well, that was his mistake. it spiraled from there— because he knew what it was to you, and he hated that. hated that you could see straight through him like a cloud blue stained glass window; without rose colored lenses like the ones he always wore (the ones he rocked, he thinks).

a crack of thunder overhead jolts him from his thoughts; he couldn't even get in there to dust the spiderwebs away before being jerked back into reality. he clicks his tongue in disappointment, watching as the skies pry themselves open and rain begin to fall in the way it only did over heavy summer showers. he wishes the sky would stop its weeping, but even the strongest has his limitations.

but it doesn't matter. he has one of those cheap plastic umbrellas he'd bought from a convenience store one day in a late march many moons ago, during the brightest blue spring of his life. and so, he didn't understand why he was lingering at the door, swinging the umbrella around his fingers by the hook on the handle, watching as the rain fell with increased fervor. there was no plastic button to keep the folds tied up, so it floundered around with each swing like a tulip bent by monsoon winds. maybe on the coast of some faraway land with windmills and fields of flowers. he wonders if he'll ever get to see the world with you someday— a fleeting thought that crumbles instantly when he conjures your pretty face in his vision, clear yet distorted like a reflection on a glazed pond, rippling water from the dragonflies that skipped over the surface.

you were definitely still angry with him, because you hadn't showed— normally, you'd walk home together. sometimes with shoko, if she didn't leave early. angry words echo in his mind, the image of your downturned lips swimming in his bright vision as he watches the rain streak down the window panes by the lockers. there's a fog settling over the grass outside that's sure to leave dew after the storm. he wonders when that'll be.

"why can't you ever take me seriously? can't you see i'm worried about you?"

"of course i can. but i don't need your damn concern!”

...

he'd been sorely mistaken, that was for sure. loosing his cool and snapping at you wasn't exactly something he took pleasure in, either way. he leans back on his heels, tapping his foot impatiently as he holds the umbrella like a cane against the floor. infinity could probably do away with the rain. another reason as to why he's not even sure why he's waiting here, or why he's holding an umbrella. perhaps to keep in case he has to offer it to some poor, shivering and cowering young maiden lost beneath the shading of a bus stop behind a curtain of rain droplets, with a charming grin and a wink.

maybe.

a shuffle behind him catches his ear; he turns his head, an unamused expression on his face as his eyes drift over the empty room to land on you. the shadows beneath your eyes are prominent, and your hair is unkempt. there are sleep lines on your face; you probably fell asleep in a classroom somewhere, which is why you delayed.

it was evident you weren't expecting to see him, though— with the way your eyes widened a little before they dropped again, nose bridge wrinkling slightly as if you'd caught the scent of something unpleasant. your eyes left his, and he felt a little disappointed as he watched them wander toward the window, where the current downpour was prominent. he didn't like the way it made his chest pang when your attention was anywhere but him, so he raised his hand lazily, tilting his head to catch your attention that he so clearly craved.

"yo. got an umbrella?" he calls, tapping the tip of his budget cane on the floor. the thud is the only sound for a while as your gaze wanders back over to him; reluctant.

"no, i don't. i didn't expect it to rain so hard today." you responded quietly, stepping over to him with a small sigh. almost a little resigned, he thinks. he can't be sure, though. he never is with you. doesn't know whether to expect his candy to be sour in the center or the other way around; but maybe he likes a bit of uncertainty every once in a while. (not with you, though. if it means arguing? never with you.)

his sunglasses are hooked around the collar of your shirt. he doesn't know why it takes him so long to realize, but when he does, he has to clear his throat in an effort to hide the heat on his face and do away with the blush. "here. take mine. i don't need it," he says curtly, offering his umbrella to you. he wants to snatch the shades from your shirt, but he doesn't want anything to go wrong, so he just eyes them warily, careful not to let his gaze slip past into anything you'd be pissed at him for.

you eye him, eyes narrowed as you raise an eyebrow, but you don't protest. your fingers brush against his for a brief moment when you take it, shaking it a little before opening the door and stepping outside, opening it up. it looks like a little clear plastic mushroom cap over your head; you're short enough to constitute as the stalk in his eyes. it's a little funny, but he has to stifle the laugh bubbling on his tongue lest you think he's making a mock of you.

he follows after you, slipping past to stand at your side with his hands in his pockets. you can't help but feel a little curious despite your prolonged anger (you like holding grudges, he knows), so you sneak a glance upward to satiate your wonder. you don't expect him to look as breathtaking as he does.

the clouds are light overhead; they're not a heavy blanket of gray anymore, and a small strip of light manages to push through, shining on satoru's pale white hair. you can make out the edge of his undercut against his neck when the wind picks up a little, the color of fluffy white clouds on a lavender sunset with the sway of yellow flowers beneath an expanse of a bright sky. there's a little cat hair on the collar of his jacket; you realize with a faint flush that it must've been from when you were holding his jacket for him in the gym. somehow, the cat you have at home found its way to satoru. you hope your pet has become a matchmaking fortune teller, for the sake of your happiness.

what catches your eye the most, though, isn't the cat hair on his dark jacket or the faraway look in his misty blue eyes; it's the outline of rain water around him, a product of his infinity, you realize. he's dry underneath the downpour, and it never ceases to amaze you. it's like there's a soft glowing halo against the backdrop of tangled wires, gray walls and pale green bushes— he looks like an angel boy, school bag hooked and hanging over one shoulder.

eventually, you manage to peel your gaze away, and he notices— looks down at you, pressing his lips together and running his tongue over them. he can taste strawberry gloss.

wordlessly, you start walking. and he follows suit, rain bouncing off of him; you catch yourself sneaking glances from under the roof of your clear umbrella between raindrops that slide down the clear plastic. sometime during the walk home, he had gone off and gotten himself a drink from a nearby vending machine— the red can catches your eye, and your fingers curl around the rubber handle of the lent umbrella as you watch him drink; the bob of his adam's apple before he crushes the can up and tosses it into a nearby bush, causing a brief scattering of leaves and a downpour of collecting droplets onto the pavement.

despite the rain, the weeds between the cracks in the sidewalk still stay strong; they have deep roots. much like the way you never fail to scowl at him for littering. he catches it— of course he does. he's been praying for a sign you're not still so hopelessly angry with him that you can't even bring yourself to have a civil walk in the summer rain together. after the scowl, though, comes the smile— the one that always makes him melt in his shoes, much like the sunshine after the rain.

and there it is at last, he thinks. the hard sour coating melts away on his tongue, draining the taste of lemon to reveal a sweet, genuine center. all it takes is time. your lips curve up, and you duck your head, hiding the small bemused laugh that leaves you breathless.

"what are you laughin' at?" he huffs, glaring down at you. but there's no malice behind it— if only you could feel the wave of relief that's washed over him, a crest of white foam that leaves behind still waters reflected in the pools of sapphire in his eyes. nothing like the hit of numbing nicotine he'd shared in the shade of an alleyway with shoko earlier that day— away from the sun; away from you. hidden from both. or maybe they were the same— to him, he couldn't differentiate.

"i'm not laughing!" you protested weakly, immediately wiping the grin from your lips, and he regrets speaking up. "just.. i dunno."

you walk in silence for a little longer, content to listen to the rain lighten up overhead. satoru kicks a plastic onigiri wrapper out of the way, splashing up a puddle as a frown dampens his face when the wrapping only clings to his shoes. he's fine with getting a little grumpy if it means seeing you smile again. and even better, you laugh again— so sweet, like the chiming of bells in the wind's melody.

"please don't do that again." your voice sounds so very small when he hears it again, and he looks down at you from beneath long white lashes, the corner of his lips quirked up. the shape of them is almost cat-like, you think. he doesn't even know what you're talking about— a vague idea, at best— but he won't do it. not if it means hearing you sound so pathetically... sad. he doesn't like it. it's far too bitter for his taste. let the black betta you both used to know indulge in dark coffee and bitter cologne— satoru likes things sweet, like the cream surrounded by tea leaf matcha in the center of his mochi and fluttering feeling he gets when you run your hands through his hair, fluffing it up to your heart's content.

(as long as your heart is happy, his is, too.)

"i won't. happy now?" he sticks his tongue out, making a face. but you both know he means it— he hates breaking his promises to you. you smile when you look up at him again with a small nod, and he feels his knees wobble a little. he just hopes you don't notice. "sorry for lying. i just.. don't like it when you're mad at me. and you look at me like that," he mumbles under his breath, bunching up the fabric of his pants between his fingers. then, after a moment, "geez, you're so dramatic. quit carin' so much." he really hopes you don't stop, and it makes him feel like the world's biggest hypocrite. the strongest, but so weak for you.

"sorry, can't. the day you stop crushing your soda cans and littering is the day i'll stop caring, 'cus that won't be my satoru anymore." you tease. and he laughs, throwing his head back so you don't see the red that spreads across his cheeks, dusting his skin like powdered sugar on top of a strawberry crepe. he always wants to be your satoru, so he figures he'll keep littering. a few money fines here and there mean nothing to his undentable wallet, or the erratic beating of his heart, trapped against his ribcage in a feathery blooming of flowers he only gets from you and your pretty smile underneath the layer of lemony sourness.

you walk along the road for a little while longer. the rain has lightened, but it's still going— incessant, dripping from the leaves of trees and the knotted black wires overhead. he still has his infinity up, which means he can't pet the cat the two of you spot on your way back, but he's perfectly content to watch you do it. you scratch its chin, smiling at the way it purrs and nuzzles into your hand, and he wonders if he'd do the same if he was in its position.

he's lost in thought when you speak to him again, shoes splashing against murky puddles in the backdrop of a never-sleeping city; tokyo's bright skyline always makes your eyes go round with wonder. you say something, and he chuckles, warm and velvety. and then you realize what's been off with him this whole time— he doesn't have his shades on.

you slip them off the collar of your shirt, smoothing down the fabric before you reach over and attempt to nudge his arm. you don't think it'll work, because he still has his infinity up— and your sleeves are already getting spattered by rain that leaves darkened wet spots on the cotton. but to your amazement, your fingers make contact with his sleeve, and you watch in wonder as the rain actually falls— soaks into that little patch of wet fabric that you're able to feel on his arm. that he's turned his infinity off in that one spot so you could touch him. you spare a glance up at him, only to find his head angled away from you. you might be hallucinating, but the tips of his ears seem red.

you don't linger on it before you're tugging on his shirt with a frown, getting him to look down at you as you unfold his glasses and offer them over to him. he takes them quickly, and you don't miss the way the rain stops falling onto his arm again, back to bouncing off the invisible shield that protects him from everything (but you, it seems). he slips his dark shades back over his eyes, obscuring oceans of pure blue that seem like they've trickled in from the purest snowcaps on the distant mountains dotted with old red tori gates and shrines with scrapped paint. but you can't stifle the smile that spreads across your lips this time— giddy and fresh and filled with youth, blossoming like sakura petals in a spring that seems so far away yet so close with his presence by your side.

you don't say anything for a while. you're content to watch the rain wash down the pavement and into the gutters, past cute little coffee shops and parks with ponds as the droplets from the sky scatter the water in part of a never-ending cycle; watering the surface of the earth and bringing life that would soon spring up as shroomcaps and fresh dew on the clean cut green grass. you wonder what satoru sees through his lenses— though, you already know. you've worn them plenty of times before, when he insists on having your perfume cling to the frame for long missions he's sent on alone, when he can't have you hold his jacket, or his hand, or scold him for sneaking a smoke when you're not watching. that, and the extra lemondrops he keeps in his pocket; gifts from you that he's fought hard for.

you're more prepared to not feel any interference of his infinity this time when you reach over, and this time you don't go for his sleeve—yanking him close to you by his hand and forcing him beneath your umbrella. you feel the way he freezes up for a moment, but his fingers fill in the gaps between your own like its the most natural thing in the world, palms pressed together in a little breathless hug that leaves no room for the humid air.

"don't waste your infinity on the rain, dumbass. you'll fry what little is left of your brain." you scold him, and he just grumbles and scoffs angrily under his breath, cursing you as he hunches over and ducks his head to fit under the umbrella to negate his height. his hair brushes against the plastic roof of the umbrella, and his lanky limbs are still awkwardly sticking out, but his fingers tighten around yours and his thumb rubs over your knuckles, still a little damp from your earlier encounter with the rain, and you can't help but smile a smile bright enough to wash away every last bit of cloud in the sky. his personal sunshine.

even though he still prefers sweet things, satoru's come to like the taste of lemondrops. sweet and sour go well together, after all. just like you and him.

its okay if it doesnt taste like anything to u as long as u enjoyed it :) thanks for reading !! the black betta in question is suguru btw my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

ughhh this is so cute 🤧

Ice Skating With Zoro

A/N: This was written for a trade in my server for the lovely @levi-supreme I had the absolute best time writing this <3<3 Pairing: Zoro x Reader CW: none WC: 1.4k

The crisp, cold air embraced the ice rink, giving way to an exciting ambiance for the date to come. Overhead, stars dotted across the night sky, and a luminescent moon cast its silvery glow upon the surface of the outdoor rink. The soft glow of hanging lights lent a gentle radiance to the ice, transforming it into the  shimmering spot that awaited the couple's presence.

The ice rink, nestled in a secluded corner of the city, was a hidden gem. Surrounded by snow-laden trees, their branches delicately dusted with powdery snow, the rink felt like a magical escape from the world. The emptiness of the rink allowed them the freedom to lose themselves, surrounded by the beauty of the winter night. The only sounds present were the rustling of clothing as You and Zoro put on your skates. 

With skates securely laced, you gracefully glided onto the ice, and Zoro followed suit. The difference in your skating skills became immediately apparent as Zoro clung to the rink's edge, a look of uncertainty on his face. Observing his hesitant attempts, you couldn't resist skating over with a teasing smile.

"Need a little help there?" you asked, your voice playful.

"I got this, just need a minute to get used to it," Zoro replied, attempting to push off the wall. However, his bravado lasted only a second before he found refuge on the barrier once again, fingers tightly gripping the cold wall.

You chuckled, closing the distance and reaching for Zoro's larger hands. "Come on, I got you," you reassured, guiding him away from the safety of the wall. You guided him slowly, hand-in-hand as you taught him how to skate. As you moved together, Zoro's initial wobbles transformed into a more confident glide, guided by your encouragement.

With growing confidence, Zoro decided it was time to venture off on his own, to circle the rink without your guidance. You watched with a big smile as he looped around the rink, occasionally letting out cheers of encouragement as he did so. However, this seemingly simple action took an unexpected turn when he realized he had never learned the crucial art of stopping. His confident grin shifted into wide-eyed panic as he hurtled back towards you.

Zoro's arms flailed in a desperate attempt to slow down, but his efforts proved futile. The collision was inevitable, and you let out a surprised squeal as your paths met. The two of you tumbled together, laughter and shouts of surprise filling the air as you guys met the ground. In the midst of the chaos, Zoro found himself in an unexpectedly comfortable position—on top of you. His hands were planted on each side of your face, holding most of his weight up. 

Your laughter softened into an awkward silence, and a subtle heat flushing your faces. Inches apart, Zoro's gaze met yours, and a hush fell between the two of you. His eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips as he realized just how close his lips are to yours. It’s as if one subtle nudge could make your lips collide. His confidence wavered as he did not know what to do from there. You were equally as flustered and you could feel her heart race as you too realized how close his lips were to yours. 

The trance you were seemingly in was abruptly shattered as you two simultaneously realized the intimacy of your position. Zoro quickly pushed himself up, stumbling over his words in an attempt to break the tension. "I, uh, sorry about that. Didn't mean to—"

Your cheeks heated up even more as you tried to hide your own embarrassment with a nervous laugh. "No, no, it's okay. I mean, it happens, right?" Your attempt at nonchalance only made the atmosphere more awkward.

You both scrambled to your feet, avoiding eye contact as you two brushed off imaginary ice crystals from your clothes. You spoke up once again, attempting to ease the tension, “Hey, I saw this cafe on the way here, it looked good. Did you want to check it out?” You asked with a sheepish smile. 

Zoro looked over at you and offered her a grin as he nodded in response. “Yeah, actually that sounds wonderful.”

The two of you took off your skates and made your way to the cafe nearby. The walk there was silent, the embarrassment of the near kiss still occupied your minds. You two entered the cafe and sat across from each other. You and Zoro perused the dessert menu and as he scanned the menu, his eyes widened with intrigue as he spotted something on the menu. "Peppermint mocha cheesecake? That sounds interesting," he remarked, his curiosity evident.

You, looking equally interested, grinned. “I was actually just looking at that! I love peppermint mocha!”

“Then you wouldn’t mind sharing a piece with me, would you?” Zoro asked, the lingering embarrassment now replaced with a newfound confidence.

You nodded eagerly, and you placed your orders for some drinks and a slice of peppermint mocha cheesecake. The delectable treats arrived, and you both indulged. The conversation flowed effortlessly over the cheesecake, a sense of ease enveloping you two as the night progressed.

You couldn't help but notice a smudge of cheesecake on the corner of Zoro's lips. "Hey Zoro, you got a little cheesecake right there," you said, gesturing towards the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, thanks," he replied, attempting to wipe his face. However, in his efforts, he managed to miss the spot entirely. You, finding amusement in his unsuccessful attempt, took matters into your own hands. You grabbed a napkin, leaned over the table, and gently wiped the cheesecake off his mouth. This seemed to fluster him for the second time that night, and you couldn't help but let out a soft laugh at the pink tint that graced his cheeks. He muttered a quick 'thanks' as he continued to savor the cheesecake, using the moment to gather himself.

The two of you eventually finished and paid the bill. As you and Zoro stepped out into the cold winter air, his larger hand instinctively sought yours, his fingers intertwining with yours as you strolled through the empty streets.

Zoro broke the silence with a soft chuckle, “You know, I’ve never been ice skating before.”

“Yeah, I could tell by the way you nearly killed me.” You responded playfully.

He laughed louder, his hand gripping hers tighter as he responded, “Well, when you ignore that part, I was a damn good skater. You could’ve confused me with a professional.” He looked over at her with a grin.

You returned his gaze with an affectionate one, a smile spreading across your face as you responded, “Yeah, you definitely fooled me.”

"Good," he responded. Your hands swung between them in a moment of shared contentment before he abruptly halted, turning to face you. Entranced by the way your eyes seemed to radiate with each smile, and how your lips appeared irresistibly tempting beneath the moonlight, he couldn't resist the pull.

His free hand tenderly cradled her your, his thumb delicately brushing against your cheek as he leaned in. In that moment, he breathed deeply, capturing the captivating gaze of yours. His voice, with a slight quiver, broke the quiet night air as he posed the question, "Can I kiss you?"

Your heart skipped a beat, her gaze locking onto his. The air around them seemed to shimmer with a quiet intensity. "Yes," you replied, your voice soft.

With that affirmation, Zoro closed the distance. His lips met yours in a slow, gentle kiss—a moment suspended in time. His warm lips moved tenderly against yours, the kiss carrying the subtle taste of peppermint mocha. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the quiet rustle of the night and the occasional jingle of Zoro's earrings. His hand cradled your face in a protective and intimate manner, while your hands reached up, grasping his shirt as his lips continued to move against yours.

When you finally pulled away, a soft smile played on Zoro's lips, mirroring the warmth in your eyes. He looked at you with a playful glint as he added “How about this: I’ll be the one deciding what we do on our next date.”

You arched an eyebrow, a smile peeking as you responded. "Oh, really? And what exciting plans do you have in mind?”

Zoro's smirk hinted at the mysterious possibilities as he replied, "You'll just have to wait and find out."

There is SO much to look at….

🥹🥹🥹

This is How You Fall in Love

Content: Established Relationship, gojo x afab!oc, gojo x fem!reader, nameless OC, she/her pronouns, lovesick!gojo, sentimental!gojo

A/N: I actually do have an OC in mind, but I don't want to give her a name yet.

✨ masterlist ✨

Part of him wished she could see how ethereally beautiful she looked in her sleep.

But then again, this vulnerable and peaceful sight belonged to him and him alone. He alone was granted the privilege of watching how her eyelashes fluttered in her sleep, or how her lips parted slightly as she breathed in and out. No other soul would be privy to the way she tucked her hands into loose fists, or how her body subconsciously curled towards his.

No one else would hear her say his name in the dead of night sometimes.

There were nights when he couldn’t help but think that he didn’t deserve her. And tonight was one such night.

He lay beside her on their bed, tucked under soft sheets, skin to skin.

Gentle fingertips whispered delicately over the side of her face, brushing stray locks of hair behind an ear. He traced a familiar path from the delicate arch of her brows to the bridge of her nose, her cheekbones, and her lips.

So beautiful…

An irreplaceable treasure. Sweet and strong. Lovely with all her flaws. So honest and endearing.

He didn’t think she truly understood just how much he loved her or how much he cherished her. To be fair, he didn’t exactly tell her outright, but he adored her and would always find ways to make sure she knew just how much she meant to him. He wanted a life with her — a home, a family, maybe even two beautiful darlings they would call their own one day.

The hand that was on her face traveled lower, tracing her arm and her hand until he gently held her palm, bringing her hand to his lips, so he could lay soft and secret kisses along her knuckles. His eyes landed on the emptiness of one of her fingers, waiting for the engagement ring he had already commissioned. He was waiting on its completion, and when it would be done, he would ask her to tie her life to his for eternity — would ask her to marry him and spend the rest of his life with her.

He loved thinking of their life together and how much they effortlessly intertwined with each other throughout the years — as if this was meant to happen all along, as if every moment back then was meant to lead to where he was now, sleeping next to the woman he loved and adored, basking in the happiness that enveloped him whenever he gazed at her.

He made himself sick sometimes, just thinking about how much he loved her.

And to know that she returned his sentiments and perhaps even more, humbled him — drove him to his knees if he let it. It was beautiful to know that she accepted him and loved him for who he was — not for his wealth or his powers or his status, but for him. She stripped him of his titles and she loved him for simply being Satoru. No one ever made him feel like that ever since Suguru did. And to think that he would find someone that he would feel so deeply connected to… It was almost unheard of, but she found him and he found her regardless.

He refused to think of losing her, but once in a while he would try to think of it just to prove to himself how inconceivable it all was. If he lost her, he knew he would be ruined. Suguru left a gaping hole in his heart. If she ever left or if she was ever taken away from him, he feared what he would become. He would never love again. He didn’t want a life without her.

She was everything and more to him and his soul — a missing piece of his puzzle, his angel, the other half of his wandering soul. Her happiness was his… And to be a constant witness of her smiles and laughter, her joy and fulfillment for close to a decade…it made him so infinitely happy too.

She was his happiness.

And just like every other night he spent like this, he promised her again that only the coldness of death could ever take him away from her love and her warmth.

Gods, he didn’t deserve her at all. But he was glad to have her anyway, and he loved her so much.

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[Dumped in AO3]