Latest Posts by milk-tea-and-memories - Page 4

request shit yall im bored and i gotta get my 2023 writer juices flowing before they freeze

Dear Future Me…

in which gojo travels inexplicably to the future

not proofread; enjoy

one minute gojo’s walking on the street, heading over to your house to pick you up for a picnic, on the phone with megumi who’s at the grocery store buying a last minute cake, and one minute he’s…not. a flash of light from the other side of the road, too fast to avoid even with gojos unhumanlike reaction time. hes pushed forwards, or was it backwards, and a cold wind whips around him, making goosebumps form on his arms. and then suddenly, hes back, except things are a little different. take the road for example, seems much too worn out for a road newly paved last week. and your house. its painted a welcoming green, with a cute red door, not the yellow it used to be. theres a new tree in your garden, blossoming flowers gojo knew wasnt there before. his attention turns on the movement of the front door, opening to reveal…you. you look beautiful, but much older than when he last saw you. gojos breath is taken away by how you glow, your smile lighting up the sky, just like it always is. and then, unexpectedly, just as hes about to call out to you, someone walks out the door behind you.

“what the fuck…” gojo mumbles to himself, watching an older, fitter, hotter (if he may say so himself), and possibly wiser gojo walk out of the door and lock it gently, before wrapping an arm around your waist and poking at a yellow bundle you have in your hands. this is a lot for now-gojo, as we must resort to calling him, to take in. he...and you?? and his hand on your waist?? and…and.

“holy shit…” gojo breathes. the yellow bundle is a baby. now-gojo sees that now, as little hands reach out towards your cheeks, and as future gojo lifts it out of the bundle of blankets in your arms and into his chest. the wispy sunlight catches the babys face just as it is tucked into future gojos chest, and its eyes, bright blue like pools of dreams and hope, quite lovely gojo thinks, take all the weight off his shoulders and he breathes a sigh of relief so deep he physically sags down.

when gojo looks up again, he is back on the newly paved street leading up to your house. “…hello? you there?? you havent answered me in like ten minutes. i asked red velvet or cheesecake. you good-“ megumis voice streams from the speaker on gojos phone.

“ye-yeah. yeah. im good megumi. very good actually. splendid. now if i may, i have a visit to pay to someone.”

“not y/n again…” megumi grumbles as his voice fades into nothingness.

gojo smiles, a new pep in his step as he leans forward to knock on your door.

“g’mornin pretty,” he winks at you, “i gotta tell you somethin’. “

i just saw the rb you posted from my gojo post and i want to say that i would give u my last chicken strip. pls omg 😭😭☹️☹️💕

and i you my darling…i would even save you two chicken strips 🥰❤️🫡

AND IT WAS SO GOOD and very much articulated my thoughts

“do you ever regret it?” you ask. “loving me?”

“why would i ever regret that?” he asks in a low whisper, fingertips drawing invisible lines on your exposed hip bone.

“i feel like…” you pause, sighing as you turn your head to the ceiling on his chest. “i feel like we’re holding each other back.”

satoru is quiet. he holds his breath, fingers halting on your skin.

“i wouldn’t want someone using me just to get you,” you elaborate, and gojo exhales. “i feel like…i don’t know. we keep each other weak?” you looking up at him, a hand leaning on a smooth chest. your eyes pour into his endless ocean. “i keep you weak.”

he keeps looking at you for a few seconds before a hand reaches up to cup your cheek. “you keep me sane.”

you pout just a bit, and satoru pulls you up to kiss it away. “you keep me tied down. grounded.” he tugs your hair away from your face as your arm cages his bigger body underneath you. “if anything, the fact that you’re the only weak spot i have says a lot.”

“i don’t want you to have a weak spot because of me.”

“i wouldn’t have it any other way,” he pushes you down to your previous position, a hand climbing to your hair while the other returns to your hip.

you stay quiet this time around, unconvinced, weighed down by your own overthinking. he comforts you like this, fingers massaging your scalp, calm breathes lulling you to sleepiness.

“i know choosing to be in a relationship this serious in a life like ours is risky,” satoru mumbles some time later. he squeezes you in, turning to fully face your body. “but i won’t find this anywhere else.”

you look up, and he finally sees the little tears clouding your vision. a smile stretches his lips pleasantly and a hand raises to swipe a thumb under a tearful eye, and you lean in his touch like a starved kitten.

“i won’t find you anywhere else.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

pls reblog so i can find my old followers again!:(

cw: gojo's past arc spoilers, implied sex, suggestive, kissing

when gojo awoke, he noticed four highly unusual things.

one, his bed was missing its usual coldness. the one he has gotten used to waking up to ever since… he was born?

which is weird, because he never bought any sort of electric bed warmers nor was it summer.

two, he had no nightmares. no images of his best friend's back turned to him as he slowly blends into the crowd, no images of a dead amanai riko lying limply in his arms, no images of fushiguro toji stabbing him on his throat, and no images of the three of them blaming and shouting at the man for their own fates.

which is rare, because every night either one or all of them would visit gojo. he even had the habit of taking his guesses on who's appearing in his dreams due to how frequent they happen.

three, he feels happy. like really, sincerely happy. not like the mask of joyfulness he shows his students; unlike the facade he had gotten all too used to presenting people.

which is rare, because gojo satoru has never felt true happiness ever since geto suguru's defection.

four, there's something warm and soft enclosing his whole body. as if he suddenly acquired a life-sized teddy bear he's now snuggling with.

but no, he never bought any sort of stuffed toy and what he was feeling was something way better than some big plushie.

(because teddy bears don't radiate warmth that feels as homely, as comforting, nor as peaceful as the sorcerer senses to the point that he never wanted to let go.)

so despite his body and mind's unceasing protests, gojo satoru slowly but surely opened his eyes to inspect why the hell there were suddenly so many changes on his usual mornings.

it was you.

an ethereal being quiescently sleeping with your cheek squished on his toned pectoral littered with red and purple marks, your marks, drool dripping down your mouth, tangled and messy hair sticking to your face, arms tightly wrapped around his naked torso as if you too would never want this moment to end.

ah. that explains why i slept so well.

gojo raises the duvet up to your shoulder before lifting his right hand and brushing your hair out of your face, wanting to see for the first time what you look like when you sleep and god. it's the only sight he would ever want to see over and over again and again for the rest of his mornings.

memories of the night prior came flooding back into his mind, filling his entire being with more and more tenderness as he remembers how your bodies perfectly molded and joined into singularity mere hours ago, as if you two were puzzle pieces who found their way towards each other despite being lost wandering somewhere around the vast and endless universe.

gojo tightened his left arm on your bare waist, his desire to be closer to you and to feel you even further starting to overtake his senses.

that is until you stirred, opened your eyes, and roamed your pupils on your surroundings before settling into his own sapphire irises. your forehead scrunched upon recognizing the man, as if you were wondering how you ended up in your current position.

you're frowning and groggy and disoriented so why are you still so gorgeous?

"g'morning, drooling beauty. someone had a great sleep, huh?" he teases as a greeting, making you frown even more as you attempt to remove your arms from his body.

whining, gojo's hands instantly flew to yours as he pressed his weight down onto the mattress, "nooo. let's stay like this."

at that, you smirked and rested your chin on his sternum before opening your mouth, "heh. someone wants to cuddle, huh?" your tone was condescending yet you still held him tighter than before, upper body fully pressed on his and arms underneath him as you lean closer to press your lips on his jaw.

(oh how he loves your morning voice; the only sound he wants to hear as soon as he wakes up.)

satoru smiled before muttering ‘just stay with me,’ pressing his lips that have said far too many words and brushed all over your figure last night on the top of your head as he basks in your presence.

it’s pretty ironic. how infinity, his most prized technique, is meant for gojo satoru to be untouchable, to serve as a barrier—a physical boundary he learned to automatically activate in order to keep himself from any injury, from any type of harm, from any kind of pain.

yet all he wants whenever he’s with you is to turn all those barriers off and to shove them away on the deepest part of his being, never to emerge again. he just wants to hold you close until the edge of the universe stops expanding and starts receding, until only the two of you are left in a small space slowly getting swallowed by complete darkness.

only then will he activate his infinity and shield the both of you against the collapsing cosmos.

“...fast? gojo? are you listening?”

your muffled voice brought the naked man back to reality, and he feels you attempting to raise your head from its place on his neck (probably to look at him) but fails as he pushes the body part back with his chin. "yes, yes, i'm listening. you were saying something about how we finished fast, right? you can just say you wanna go for another, ya know? i won't mind~"

you let out an ugh and he swears he can hear your eyes roll within your response, "no, you idiot. i was asking what you wanted for breakfast. were you dozing off?"

he responds only to your former question, completely ignoring the latter. "breakfast, huh? let me think."

for gojo, breakfast normally meant going to some shop near wherever he currently is and eating a slice of cake alone. he couldn’t even remember the last time he had a home cooked meal and although he’d stop at nothing to taste your cooking (even if it’s dirt), he has been thinking of another meal ever since he realized woke up with you.

smirking, the white-haired man twisted his body before flipping the both of you and hovered over your form despite your halfhearted protests. you were looking incredulously at him, left eyebrow raised and forehead scrunched as he slowly leans in to plant a chaste kiss on your nose.

“you were asking what i wanted for breakfast, right? welp, i want you.”

however, the thought of you standing in his kitchen, in front of his stove, possibly wearing his shirt that would be way too huge for your figure and making him breakfast while his body encloses yours from behind, the combined smell of miso soup and your neck permeating his senses sits at the back of his mind while he kisses you silly.

so gojo satoru, the ever unpredictable man, halts the onslaught of his love on your face and pulls back, perching both of his hands on either side of your shoulder as he continues hovering over you and watching you catch your breath.

“i changed my mind. cook me breakfast now~” he beamed before getting off the bed and grabbing his shirt on the floor, leaving you dumbfounded as you allow him to lift you off the mattress and carry you bridal style out of the door.

you sighed exasperately.

what a bizarre man you fell in love with.

navi

i just love him a lot TT

So HOURS AGO I sent a risky snap to the guy I’ve been crushing on (just a flirty little pic in response to him sending me a pic of his pants n being like ‘look at my butt’) and completely forgot about it cause it was HOURS ago and he not only just opened it but then REPLAYED it and responded.

Not to act like a silly little teenager but I’m screaming and too chicken to look at what he said

omfg yes yes and yes and also he pretends not to be sad realllyyyy really hard but sometimes its just too much and when yall first moved in together (!!) and he was crying in the bathroom hiding you went in and kissed his forehead (gojo melt moment) and held him and sat on the cold tile cradling his head and didnt say anything sarcastic or stupid or anything actually and just sat w him until he started talking to you abt his feelings

AND he was so embarrassed afterwards he tried to make it up to you and apologize for wasting your time and you smacked him in the face (!!!!) and scolded him for thinking that way and he felt SO LOVED 🥰

i feel like gojo would be in a ‘hot chocolate x green tea’ relationship.. his partner is very funny but more of the sarcastic humor and he pretends to be offended but he never actually is. his partner is his sense and is the person who tells him to stop eating so many sweets and maybe get in some protein, makes sure that he sleeps well and tells him not to take missions when he’s sleepy. and when they do all this he wants to cry because he never got that time when he was babies becs he had to grow up so quickly. his partner his this older , mature energy about them and it makes him feel so different- not like he has to impress anyone or have anybody’s back. because hes finally being taken care of with no strings attached, and it feels so good to him. OH LETS NOT FORGET HOW HE WILL BE THE KINDEST PERSON EVEN TO HIS PARTNER!! because they’ve done all this for him and he wants to now buy you the entire earth or say the most disgustingly kind things to you.

like if you so much as tell him to have a good day , to be careful and that you love him he stops dead in his tracks and goes. , “thank you !! i love you more!! you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me!! byebye yn!!” while he’s walking out , and his voice is getting farther and farther but he’s also getting louder because you MUST know how special you are. the good you’ve done. how much of a good person you are. you HAVE TO. and don’t get me started when you’re sad. because when he’s sad he doesn’t know how to express it properly so he makes these atrocious jokes that leave you so concerned, but you still comfort him anyway, and he loves you so much for it. so he’ll hug you a tight but doesn’t know what to say at all😭. so he’s holding you and rocking you side to side and just saying , “i’m here, it’s alright, i’m right here,” because that’s all he really knows how to do but he PRAYS that it’s enough for you because he will literally wither away if it isn’t. gojo n his more emotionally smart, mature but still chaotic partner </33

aND LASTLY. everyone hates when you two are together because it’s so chaotic , you can’t even get out a sentence because every word you seem to say has some kind of dumb ass inside joke or something. like you once read a book that mentioned a baseball bat being heavy and he was so distraught . he kept going ,” heavy????? 😏 baseball bat???????? 😏” and now whenever anyone brings it up or it’s on tv you both topple over laughing. megumi is done cus he thought you were supposed to be the mature one 😕😕😕💔💔

all i wanna do is tell gojo ill be there to kiss his knuckles and wipe his tears

snow [ gojo satoru x reader ]

✾ warnings: clingy gojo

✾ synopsis: your boyfriend is feeling sentimental, and wants you to stay a while longer. after all, how could one sleepover make up for a whole week's worth of you time?

✾ notes: i think he deserves a very big long hug i lovehim

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

"alright, i'll be off now!" you tell your pouting boyfriend, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. he still refuses to let go of you, like a sad little child who's afraid of being separated from his only anchor. you cup his face in your hands. "satoru, you'll see me tomorrow, stop making that face."

he hums in response, closing his eyes and leaning into your touch.

you're warm, a much needed contrast to the cold, snowing december afternoon. the warmth fills the little void in gojo's heart; the one he never speaks of.

you fit so snugly in his arms, your fingers lace so easily with his, and his face fits so perfectly in the crook of your neck, that he wonders whether you were made for him, or he, for you. you're the piece of him he hopes he never has to live without.

his heart misses you terribly whenever you're not around.

"is something wrong, baby?" you ask, a bit worried by his behaviour. "you know i love you very much, 'toru."

pulling you into a gentle hug, he breathes in your scent. "i love you too, sweetheart. nothing's wrong, don't worry."

you open your mouth to argue, but he's already ushering you to the door. "text me when you're home, okay? drive safely!"

he opens the door, and the two of you come to a sudden halt in front of the 4 foot layer of snow outside. neither of you say anything for a moment.

then, a grin breaks out on your menace of a boyfriend's face.

"guess you're stuck with me for a while longer, angel." when he finally speaks, he sounds almost triumphant.

gojo knows he isn't supposed to be happy about being snowed in, but boy is he absolutely elated. in his defense, it'd been a long week, and he badly missed your warm embrace; the way your bodies seemed to fuse together, your fingers threaded delicately through his hair. one sleepover could not make up for a week's worth of cuddles.

to make matters worse, he was feeling emotional. sentimental, even. he felt like peppering kisses on every inch of your face; felt like loving you as if there was no tomorrow.

"not a bad way to spend what's remaining of the weekend." you muse, intertwining your fingers with his as you make your way back into his living room. settling down on the couch with you on his lap, he buries his face in your chest.

"do... you wanna tell me what's up? why were you acting like a little puppy just now?"

"was not," gojo mumbles.

"i'm listening," you gently push, stroking his soft, smooth hair. he sighs. whether in contentment or defeat, you're not sure.

"just missed you." he presses a chaste kiss to your neck. "warm,"

you laugh, and he feels like a lovesick high schooler all over again.

"should've told me to stay longer, 'toru." you flick his forehead lightly. "i missed you too, so much. i would've gladly said yes."

"well, you're here now." he looks up, and his beautiful cerulean eyes meet yours. a soft smile graces his handsome face.

"i am." you agree, leaning in so the tips of your noses are touching.

"i love you." he whispers.

"i love you too," you manage, before he closes the gap between the two of you, pulling you into a deep kiss.

taglist: @mykyoon @nishayuro @maxxs-world @nico707 @dreamsfo @shuxjodie

‘I always think you’re pretty’

feat. Itadori, Megumi, Inumaki, Nanami, Gojo

note: established relationship in Nanami’s!!

ITADORI 

“You seem to be in a good mood today,” Itadori nudges you as the two of you walk to the convenience store for a late night snack run. He notices the way your gait seemed a lot more light-hearted, the way you were almost bouncing with glee in every step you took.

Keep reading

gojo satoru.

a freshly turned seventeen year old, with crass and violence only ever painting him—most get tired of him. because when the pretty thing opens his mouth, without you present to offer silent sympathy, it never ends well.

as the passage of time carries on, change in gojo is little, but hefty in others surrounding him; accustomed and changed befitting to survive through his moods.

but the.. curiosity (maybe even frustration from people who see him in a romantic plight) only becomes covered in layers, instead of dying down. to question his character, the incessant wonder for the reason of his friskiness.

and he’s aware— observes the dull remarks or lingering eyes with nothing more than a shrug that is a second too quick and barely noticeable pout, the jut of his lower lip acting as a childish gateway to his feelings.

in his head, taking the title as the strongest, fingertips skimming heaven, it has no setbacks.

despite his denies, his power never came without stripping something; ousting him from the realm of elysian and chaining him to humanity. giving him traits of a god but characteristics of a human.

and what they failed to give him, was a proper tongue.

in moments like these, more specifically.

finding you sitting on the engawa shrouded in shadows, while he took his usual midnight walk when sleep didn’t come.

his stomach drops without reason, yet his feet carries him towards you, sitting close enough to bump shoulders. you’ve bumped hips, shoulders and heads before, forever affectionate and familiar— this time it feels wrong. your body motionless and swayed slightly with his movement.

he clenches and unclenches his hands, staring out towards the training grounds as you are. his normal banter isn’t coming to him, and you haven’t said a word.

with a few blinks, his eyes rest on the side of your face, and he turns into a jumble of nerves and shock when he sees your eyes cloudy and a wet trail of tears left behind. tears that have been shed not long since he joined you because your skin glistens.

he gulps, hard.

and when his hand softly touches your thigh, caressing the flesh with hesitant strokes, your gaze flits on him. immediately he drops eye contact, focusing on drawing patterns on your skin as his complexion pinks with your attention. you tilt your head slightly in his direction, drinking in his attempt of comfort.

you lean on him gently, your face finding its home on his neck. the feeling of your wet eyelashes on his skin sends shivers down him. your chest rises and falls, and with each breaths he counts, the uncertainty in his touches dwindles. your lips curve upwards when you feel his arm travel across your waist, tugging you closer.

(you know the reason for his bravado. though you’ll hand it to him that it’s nothing but subtle.

articulating his emotions will never come to him easy. he will never know how to start or say it right. awkward and tense at times of vulnerability, so he resorts to puffing out his chest and making it worse, sticking with the hot headed persona.)

as he angles his head on top of yours, quiet in hopes to calm the turmoil brewing behind your eyes, you have half a mind to tell him he’s not as bad as he fears.

but for now, you like being the only one who cracks his facade.

gojo satoru x reader, MAJOR hurt/comfort, angst to fluff, i just hope i did this blurb justice. NOT EDITED

imagine... gojo saving his s/o mere moments from death and the desperation that follows.

you'd been sent on a mission together, which the special grade sorcerer was very excited for initially since he gets to kick spirit ass with the love of his life. besides, with your help, the mission would be finished much faster and when you're done, he can take you out to a fancy restaurant with the bank he makes by being a sorcerer of his calibre.

not that you don't make bank yourself, but gojo likes to idea of being your 'sugar daddy', even though you tell him that 'it's weird'.

but one thing goes wrong and all of a sudden, you're in the hands of the enemy, helpless and frantic as every card up your sleeve falls to the floor- paralysed to your spot as the curse swallows your every last chance of survival.

this was it and the flash of your life hits you.

violently, too, like a really hard sensation rips through your side, the wind blows against you roughly and you thought that it'd be a little more peaceful- oh wait no, that's gojo picking you up and phasing away.

suddenly every curse has been obliterated and you're overcome with emotions that numb your being. you want to scream, sob, throw up, shake the anxiety away, crawl into a hole and hibernate.

gojo does all of the above for you.

"i thought- i thought- i thought that was it. i thought that was the end," he whispered, frantically cradling your face, hands moving everywhere along your body to make sure that you were still with him.

neither of you have the words to continue, panting together with mismatched breaths and worry-blown eyes. he eagerly ripped his own blindfold off, eyes proceeding to desperately scan every inch of your face and soul, as if gojo was trying to get a better grasp of your cursed energy in reassurance that you were still here.

once it becomes too much, he breaks down with a sob, falling to his knees at your feet as his tears ricochet onto the ground below him, holding onto your hands like they were his lifeline, a piece of you that you could sacrifice to purify his flaws and failures.

he leans his forehead onto your hands, trying to ground his breathing as he holds onto you tightly, as if making sure you couldn't slip through his fingers as delicately as last time.

"i thought- i really thought that you were going to-" gojo can't even finish his sentence before crying again, wheezing and sobbing uncontrollably, "you can't do that to me, y/n, you can't."

his voice breaks as the sorcerer looks up at you with a pool of emotion, expression vulnerable as if he was begging you to look into the fragile state of his heart because it was yours and yours his being would forever be. he surrendered to you, the miracle that has entered his life and forever changed it for the better. he surrendered to you, his lover who he'd go to any lengths for. gojo satoru, the honoured one, surrendered to you because he can sacrifice his measly pride if it means he's guaranteed another day by your side, in a safe haven he never thought he would need.

"you can't pull that on me y/n, y/n, y/n," he shakes as he repeats your name over and over again, whispering it so sacredly as if it were the only word he knew; a mantra that would fix the damage within him at seeing the most important person in his life almost- almost- almost-

you sink to his level with gleaming eyes, tears woefully streaming down your face to join his ones on the concrete below. holding his face oh so gently, you shakily smile, "satoru, i'm okay. i'm okay because of you."

he can't help the sob that rips through him as you lean to press a kiss to his temple, allowing gojo to find solace in your collarbone. he clings onto your clothes so tightly, still desperately searching for the extra reassurance that he didn't fail, not again.

"you can't, y/n, out of all people, it can't be you," he heaves, voice growing softer and breaths growing calmer the longer you hold the delicate man.

"we're okay, satoru, and we'll be okay for a long time."

haha you're so cute when you tell me if you liked that 😁😁 pls reblog... or follow... or like... please?

more of ex husband gojo i beg

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 | 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐅 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒: 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎

cw/ tw. modern au. their daughter is an oc, mild angst, pet names (ex. baby), more of Gojo fawning over his ex wife | wc. 600+

an. okay, this is just a blurb my sleepy brain conjured up <3

Ex-husband!Gojo who doesn’t understand that the moms at Mio’s soccer games talk whenever he decides to pull you into his lap—a few sideways glances cast your way at how cozy you both must look as you watch your daughter run across the field.

He doesn’t hear the things they talk about, like “aren’t they divorced?” and “I’ve never seen anyone divorced act like that.” Although maybe he’s heard every word and doesn’t give it the same amount of thought or care as you do. 

“Satoru,” you hiss, trying to move off his lap to no avail. “I have my own chair.”

“Shh,” he tells you, tugging you further against his chest. “You’re missing the game.”

“But everyone’s staring at us.”

“So? Let them stare.”

Just then, the crowd in the stands starts cheering, and you both watch Mio chase the ball down the field, her smaller frame ducking between the taller kids. 

“That’s my girl!” Gojo shouts over the other parents. 

And then Mio kicks the ball into—well.

The wrong goal.

“Maybe we should have let her join t-ball,” you whisper, though you both clap as your daughter jumps happily in the middle of the field.

You’re probably scrubbing the plate in your hands rougher than necessary, doing everything to stop from staring out into the yard where he’s mowing the lawn. But it’s difficult when his chest glistens with sweat from the early-summer heat and how those gray cotton shorts sit dangerously low on his hips— 

Ex-husband!Gojo who still does work around the house every Friday, and to your dismay, shirtless.

It's almost like it's a ploy to torture you...and it's working.

He looks towards the kitchen window, a crooked smile stretching across his lips when he catches you staring, and suddenly the suds in the sink seem ten times more interesting.

Ex-husband!Gojo who strolls into your room while you’re folding laundry. And he’s still shirtless, you realize, as he presses his front against your back.

Your resolve slips at how familiar it feels (to be held like this), and you swallow the whimper working its way up your throat. “Satoru…”

“You know, these little shorts were always my favorite,” he tells you, his fingers playing with the elastic waistband around your waist.

Breathless, you ask, “where’s Mio?”

“Watching Paw Patrol.”

Ex-husband!Gojo who works your shorts and underwear off your legs before pulling you to the edge of the bed. 

“Satoru, we—we can’t keep doing this—”

Your words trail off into a lilted moan when he slaps your clit with his leaky tip.

“Yeah? Go on, baby,” he tells you, slowly splitting you open on his cock. “Tell me more about why we can’t keep doing this.” 

And you can’t, not with how he’s filling you up in the way only he knows how. Not when he wraps his long fingers around your throat because you’re getting too loud, pinning you against the bed, every sound choking into nothing.

You wriggle underneath him, fingers clawing at the comforter and your back arching.

“That’s it,” he growls, leaning over you, teeth bared. “Take it.”

Ex-husband!Gojo who pushes the sticky rivulets of cum back inside you after he pulls out, muttering something that sounds like, “can’t waste it.” 

Ex-husband!Gojo who stays for dinner for the fourth time that week, and none of the reasons have been because Mio asked if he could. It’s more about the fact that you’ve enjoyed how whole your family feels again, that you can pretend for a moment this is what you do every night. 

That your wedding ring doesn’t sit in the back of your sock drawer, and his isn’t tucked away in his wallet—

“Daddy, you gonna lose,” Mio tells Gojo as Mario Kart appears on the screen.

“We’ll see,” he laughs, ruffling her hair until she’s giggling and swatting his hand away.

You lean back against the couch, watching them with a small smile, content.

A HOUSE THAT SMELLS LIKE HOME. | gojo x reader. | 2k words

He was a hard working man. 

Keep reading

Overview

atsumu gets romantic in the snow

"i find myself running home to your sweet nothings"

summary | it’s always a rough day for katsuki. hero rankings and PR nightmares every time he opens his mouth. but he gets to come home to you

pairing | bakugo katsuki x fem!reader

word count | 840

warning | soft!domestic katsuki, fluff.

a/n | this is very literally based off sweet nothings by taylor swift, so you can listen if you want the full experience. also, i haven't posted in two months, so i'm sorry if this sucks. <3

—

katsuki drops his bracers at the door with a heavy sigh. he's only just got his boots off and tucked in the corner, when he hears your voice calling him from the kitchen.

"'suki?"

he feels the smile pulling at his lips entirely unbidden.

the soft notes of that song that's been stuck in your head (and by extension, his) plays from the speaker in the corner.

"hey honey," you smile, leaning up to give him a kiss when he's in range.

he'll never be able to explain how that title makes his heart clench. he couldn't verbalize how every title he's obtained has not mattered until you gave him that one. pro-hero, number 2, explosive, dynamight.

your title feels so intimate on your lips, reducing him to the man who would fall at his knees for you.

not a pro-hero or number 2. not a ticking time bomb or a hot-head.

just your honey. your husband. yours, yours, yours.

"how was your day?" you ask, still stirring the pot as you turn the stove down.

"it was alright," he mumbles. in truth his day was rough, and he's not ready to talk about it, and he knows you can tell by the way you reach your free hand out to swipe your fingers along his cheek.

you smile up at him, pinching his cheek. "you wanna wash up? dinner's almost done." when he nods slowly, closing his eyes against the feelings of your fingers, you give him a little laugh.

in the bathroom, he works with the skin care products you left on his side of the counter, the dry winter air has been harsh on his quirk and his skin.

he thinks back to the agency, to the hero rankings, to the disapproving stares of civilians when he lets out loud curses and swears. the scolding he received from his manager today. the article comparing his pros and cons against the number 1 pro hero deku.

the water runs over his chest as he tilts his face into the stream, still trying to catch his breath from the incredibly long week he's had.

by the time he's toweled off and dressed in his sweats, the tension has worked it's way up into his back and across his shoulders.

"katsu?" your voice rings out and he's immediately following the sound back to the front door. he snorts when he sees you trying to push his bracers into the corner near his shoes. "how the hell do you put these things on for hours at a time? oh my god."

bakugo only laughs when he picks up both bracers with ease, your shocked gasp ringing out in the hallway.

"you're so strong, katsuki."

and that's it. your praise comes so easy. the fantastic feats that he performs still awe you. even something as simple as his above average strength elicits cheer from you.

it doesn't matter that he does it everyday, or that it's expected of him, you treat every act like it's the most incredible thing you've ever seen. and bakugo tries to fight the blush creeping up on his cheeks when you say these things.

even after all these years, he hasn't gotten used to your praise.

you're quickly setting a plate in front of him, taking the seat right next to him. recounting the events of your day, catching your boyfriend up on your workplace drama, and your recent purchases is enough to take you both through dinner.

by the time you've got him laid on the couch, your favorite candle is lit in the middle of the coffee table, and you two are talking softly.

his head rests on your chest, his ear pressed right over your heart. your fingers work softly against the ache in his shoulder, somehow finding the right spots to touch. these are nights when he needs you to take him down and you always do so with ease. he groans softly at the tender strength in your touch.

"i like the way you sound."

and there you go again. how do you split him open with a just a few words?

"its so pretty. especially when you talk, and when you laugh, i think that's my favorite sound."

you're calling him pretty. like his body isn't a fucking live wire ready to go off when he sweats. like the natural production of his glands don't cause explosions. like people aren't out there wondering if he should be a villain because of the force of his quirk.

of course the power thrumming through his veins is nothing compared to you. to the person he is when he's resting between your legs, letting you pet and coo at him until he's pliant and soft.

you bathe him in compliments, your adoration of him washes the shitty week off his skin and coats him in a thick layer of your love.

his prickly edges become rounded and soft against your gentle touch. refining him to be composed entirely of your sweet nothings.

—

writing and posting fic on the internet is like working at a horribly managed strip club where nobody is really watching the performers but instead drinking and talking amongst themselves but then sometimes you’ll have regulars and they holler when you shimmy and that makes everything alright to me

milf (motivation i’d like to find)

“kats…she’s yours.”

the blonde doesn’t move, only stares blankly at the wall above your head, ignoring the ultrasound in he’s clenching in his right hand. you smile brightly at him, bouncing on your heels.

“fuckin…how? weren’t you being careful? what the fuck y/n i cant- you cant- we’re not-“

“we’re not what.” you look at him aghast. “what the fuck are you saying katsuki?”

it had been a couple months since that night, but it was hard to forget. bakugo had come to you, upset about losing that apartment full of people to the villains, upset about being beaten, his anger pent up and ready to explode. neither of you slept that night. but in the morning, you’d woken up without him by your side, his part of the bed still warm with the ghost of the heat of his body, the smell of his expensive cologne and a tinge of smoke refusing to let go of the blanket you pull tighter around your chin.

”stay.” you say, and you look him in the eyes so forcefully he has no choice but to look back. you search his vermillion eyes for a sign of his thoughts. he looks away again, and runs a hand through his unkempt hair, hair you'd felt on the back of your neck only the night before.

“i can’t.”

bakugo lays the ultrasounds on your bed and steps back. “i’m a hero y/n, you know that. i dont got time for…it.”

“her,” you correct. us, you think. your heart sinks a little but a little voice in the back of your head taunts you. you knew he was using you. you used him back. yet you caved. look where that got you.

“yeah, her, whatever.” bakugo mumbles. his eyes are harder now, his expression stony. “im a hero y/n, i have duties, people to save, training to do. i dont have time for any of this. dont be selfish.”

“selfish?” you snarl, “shes yours and you know it. don’t give me this fucking bullshit. you have time. you had time when came over every night last summer. if you dont have time, then make some katsuki. for me,” your voice cracks a little here, “for her. for us.”

bakugo stares blankly at you, as if he couldnt hear what you were saying. shaking his head, he turns towards the door.

“im sorry y/n.”

and then he leaves.

"𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐘𝗼𝐮 𝐒𝐚𝐲?"

⤷ atsumu x reader | mutual pining | 0.9k words |

“Atsumu!” You call out his name, hitting your fist against the door. “Are you here?” 

It's a little late; the hallway is brightly lit, and you look up at the overhead lights, blinking and wondering if you shouldn’t have come here on such a whim. Thinking about it, you probably should have at least texted him you were coming — he might not even be here, but you were too much in a rush. 

Sighing, you raise your fist again, “Atsu-”

The door flies open and your hand cuts through air instead of the solid surface. Standing there in the doorway is Atsumu, clad in a pair of black sweatpants and a loosely fitting black t-shirt to match. He’s holding onto the handle with one hand, the other resting against the side of the frame, his pink lips stretching into a sly smile. Your stomach flips a little bit. “Hey.”

“Hi.” You wring your hands together, “Um.” 

He raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue and chuckling when you don’t. He opens the door wider. “C’mon,” he says, motioning his head inside his room. You stare at his back as you follow him in, taking in his broad shoulders and admiring the way his muscles ripple inside his shirt before closing your eyes and shaking your head. He’s not yours to look at. 

Focusing instead on the room, you take note of how both sides are equally as dysfunctional. Not messy, just…crowded. “Where’s Osamu?” 

He settles onto his bed, unmade, legs spread, and pushes his laptop to the side. “With Rin.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” 

You rock on your heels as your gaze slides all around the room, purposely avoiding his. “So…” 

“So?” He tilts his head in that cute way he always does when he finally catches your eye, smiling teasingly. “I’m not complainin’ about ya bein’ here, but you look like you have something ya wanna say.” 

He’s right. A wave of fervor pours over you, and you nod your head in determination to do what you came here for, pushing the creeping feeling of dejection far from your mind. “I need some answers.”

“Uh, huh.” His mouth twists in confusion. “Ta what, exactly?” 

“To how long it’s going to be.” Your legs take you around the small space, pacing back and forth as you clench and unclench your fists.

“Right…” He trails off. “I’m a little lost here, sweetheart.” 

You think you might melt with the affectionate name, but you brush over it. He’s just like that. “How long it’s going to be until you ask out this person you like so much.” 

He suddenly tenses, back straightening and thick eyebrows furrowing. “Oh.” Brown eyes track your movement. “I’m not, uh, sure I can answer that?” 

You shake your head. You think back to the conversation you guys had a few days ago, where he told you all about this person that he’s interested in. You remember him using words like so pretty, so amazing. A flush on his cheeks as he told you about why he likes them so much. Refusing to tell you who the person was, so maybe you could try to understand why it wasn’t you. 

But it’s exactly that, it’s not you. But it hurts every single time you think about it. 

So that’s why you ended up here, late at night, a fire in your heart. If the person Atsumu likes isn’t you, you could at least push him to go out with them. You wouldn’t be left to hopelessly pine over him, and could instead get over it as you watched him with someone else, even if it would kill you. Save yourself before you get too invested, right? 

“Why not? The sooner the better. Aren’t you the one who told me that we have to go for the things we want?” 

Atsumu pushes himself off the bed, long legs striding to you and big hands holding your arms to stop you from moving around. He looks very confused now. “I was?” 

You ignore him. “Well then, it’s time to do something.” You make sure to look right into his eyes. “If you like them so much, there’s only one thing to do.” 

The grip on your arms tighten, and you shift your hands up to hold on to his elbows. His eyes widen, and you watch as different emotions pass through his face before an excited grin grows. He studies you, “How long have ya felt this way?”

“Since you told me.” You try to match his smile, despite the way your chest sinks. “Be brave, Atsumu. I know you are.”

“Yeah.” he nods, eagerly, bleached hair following the jerks of his head. “Yeah, okay.” 

Your gaze drops to the floor. “Great…” Great. 

At least one of you guys will get to be with who they want to. You just wish he wanted you.

You try to leave his hold, but his hands just squeeze your arms, your name falling from his lips in a soft breath. 

He gives you that smile, not the confident volleyball player one, but the one that you catch him with when he’s petting a puppy, or when he’s talking to his mother on the phone and he thinks no one is looking. The one that’s reserved for soft moments, and your heart constricts. But it’s not prepared for what comes out of his mouth next. 

“Will ya go out with me?”

I mean yeah he’s evil and all but what if I were his favourite

i love how delusional some articles of clothing are, like you read the tag and its like “hand wash only/tumble dry on low” son you are a cotton tshirt. youre going in the warsh and whatever happens in there is in gods hands

NIGHT SHIFT 

a/n: (wc: 1k) gojo x reader, angst, i literally do not know what this is but i was listening to lucy dacus then this happened, not proofread we die like men

Contrary to popular belief, Satoru has never been good with his words. Not when it truly matters, at least.

A silver-tongue when it comes to all forms of mischief, he’s impressive at worming himself out of sticky situations. However, this is all the less impressive when you learn that his quick-witted remarks are usually what get him into those same situations. Oh, the double edged sword that is Gojo Satoru’s way with words.

Sometimes, he’s decent with them. He can convince you to stay in bed with him on those chilly winter mornings, turning five more minutes into twenty and a phone call into work feigning ill. He can persuade you to take a midnight trip to the bakery with him, indulging in sweets that would have your dentist going into cardiac arrest at the mere thought. He can recite the Jujutsu High handbook verbatim with ease, having memorized all of the rules he goes out of his way to ignore and diminish.

Always the loose-lipped loudmouth, it’s safe to say that he says a lot of things. 

On the contrary, one thing the great Gojo Satoru can’t say is I love you. 

Keep reading

i feel like bakugou only does fwb because mina tries to explain to his wound up ass that sometimes adults just have consensual sex for the fun of it.

like maybe it starts as an accident, or unplanned; somehow, she managed to get two mixed drinks in him — which is two drinks too many — and you're all at denki's birthday party and he's having a little more fun than he's willing to ever admit, and you're there, some friend of jirou's, and before he knows it, his face is flushed and he's staring at you a little too obviously from across the room.

you're pretty, that's all. and even though he's got this big dumb scar on his face and hands and chest and shoulders and — you're looking at him, too. making a face at him when something funny happens, eyes wide, lips curled into some amused smile; mouthing things to him, like he's wasted when denki falls and brings the curtains down with him. you're interacting but not, and did he really expect mina not to notice ???

"you should go talk to her!"

bakugou's reaction is a little slow, but just as intense; eyebrows furrowed, teeth grit, nostrils flared, as if she just suggested he kill his own grandma or something. "stay the hell outta my business."

unphased, she grabs one of his shoulders, fingernails diggiing in when he tries to shake her off. "c'mon, she's cute! and you two have been making googly eyes at each other all night!"

and — okay, he doesn't say anything to that, even though he definitely has not been making fucking googly eyes at you. it just takes him by surprise a little, that's all, that she thinks you've been making googly eyes at him. whatever that means. but the alcohol has set in enough that he's a little too transparent, a little too quick to bare his insecurities.

unthinking, he swivels his head back to stare at you, how you're smiling and chatting with some girl you came with, sticking your tongue out at him when you notice him looking, before he's swiveling to face back at mina again.

"the fuck am i supposed to say? i don't ever—" chat up strangers, he means, because — he never knows what the fuck to say. and it seems like a waste of time, usually, because he's got to reveal himself little by little and hope the other person doesn't run off crying because he hurt their feelings or something.

he's busy. hell, mina knows that better than anyone because her schedule isn't any looser than his, so it's not like he's really got time to date right now, and even if he did, he wouldn't have the time to devote to it that he probably should. it's why he's avoided it this long, and he makes a habit of steering clear of this subject with everyone, especially her, because she's always saying things like—

"you seriously need to get laid, blasty! maybe some of the pressure will release from your big head!"

and then he's attracting too much attention by trying to blast her to smithereens; something about alcohol makes him fourteen again, too quick to whip out the die!'s and sparking palms.

it also throws off his balance a little, because he doesn't really want to turn her to dust and so he's not fighting as hard and she's almost got him in a headlock when you walk up, laughing at how much they resemble clumsy, overgrown children.

as soon as mina sees you, she's up on her feet and saying, "he's totally clean, practically a virgin!" before he can actually, really, truly end her young life. and you laugh some more when his face goes beet red and he means to insist that that's not true — it is — but you sit too close beside him on the couch and it's like he's taken a large sip of one of mina's too-strong drinks all over again.

"you know," you start, crossing one leg over another so that it's brushing against his knee. "you're a lot funnier than i thought you'd be."

and bakugou has zero game sober, so he says, "...well...you dunno shit about me, so..."

"no, i guess i don't," you snort, leaning a little further into him, grin widening when his cheeks darken at your proximity. "but i'd like to learn."

no. he's not gonna tell anyone that you fucked in sparkplug's guestroom. zero. nobody. taking it to the grave, because he's really not that kind of guy. and there's already this out of control rumor about him in the media that he's some sado-masochist hard dom and he's not really trying to fuel that fire.

okay, he doesn't tell anyone except mina, because she's the one that got him into the whole thing in the first place.

"it's really not a big deal, kats." she says it to him over breakfast in her overdecorated, over-pink kitchen, smirking at him from across the bar counter where he's chugging some green drink she concocted. "people hook up with strangers all the time."

"well, i fuckin' don't." he grumbles, frowning at the heart pattern on her dinner plates. the too-large glasses she's given him to block out the sun aren't helping. more for show than anything, he thinks.

"not like i want to know all the raunchy details but," —she and bakugou share a grimace at the thought— "didn't you have at least a little bit of fun?"

okay, he did.

you're — carefree, in the sense that nothing was too serious, too awkward. this isn't something bakugou does on the regular so it maybe might have been a while, but — you were fine with that. didn't mind at all, seemed to be just as content sitting naked on top of him, tracing the ugly lines over his chest and across his shoulders and at his hip and —

he also learned his refractory period is about 12 minutes. and that yours is about 45 seconds.

yeah, he can admit that he had a decent time with you, but the problem isn't that he hooked up with some stranger.

the problem is that he kinda liked watching you through hazy eyes as you walked your fingers up his chest, fiddling with his ear and pushing his hair up off his forehead. that he kinda liked pulling your legs up around his hips because you fit together a little better than he expected. that he didn't know you would feel so good or sound so sweet underneath him.

the problem is that sex makes him vulnerable and that's the real reason he avoids it so much. the problem is that he doesn't really want to hook up with strangers.

the problem is that now he just wants you.

part two: to pretend: to make as if; to put on an act.

@xiaosprettygf for you my darl

It had been two years.

Two years since the wedding, two years since you’d seen either Rina or Megumi. Two years since your heart shattered, and the box you put your shattered heart in had shattered, and the pieces all run through a Shattering Machine of the very best kind. Today, while you shuffled to your mailbox in your outdoor slippers, sipping on a travel mug of chamomile tea (although you weren’t planning on going anywhere), the rain pattered softly on the glass window panes. You felt happy. Happy is an interesting word. It was a mood, temporary, yes, but lately that happiness had crept up on your life and insisted on moving in. You had just started med school, not usually known for inspiring happiness, but you felt productive, proud of where you’d gotten yourself. You made a new friend, a peppy, excited girl named Aika. Her favorite color was yellow, and recently, after moving in with you, your apartment had brightened considerably. Music was always filling the then-depressing silence, a cream yellow speaker in the shape of a sleeping cat mumbling out soft cello or bursting with the latest pop. You went to get the mail for the both of you, reaching into the mailbox and pulling out the usual assortment of junk mail and advertisements. And a pastel green envelope, with perfectly printed handwriting that you knew oh so well. Your eyes prickle immediately, and you blink them away. You were strong. You were independent. Yet you knew who had written that envelope. You remembered the way Rina dotted her i’s and crossed her t’s and f’s. Running your finger over the slightly indented print, you breathed in deeply and tried to think of what to do. Returning to your apartment, you tucked the envelope into the junk drawer and tried to forget. This particular sunday afternoon, you had no plans. Putting on another one of Aika’s new pop playlists, you put on a bright yellow apron and started to make red velvet cupcakes, your’s and Aika’s favorite, in an attempt to distract yourself. When the cupcakes were in the oven, you sat down on the couch. Then, getting up, you went to the drawer, then before touching the handle, turned back to sit down, and a couple steps away from the couch, turned back again. 

“You’re pathetic,” came an amused voice from the doorway. Aika was standing there, in all her bucked hatted glory, eyebrows raised. “I’ve been here for two minutes watching you cosplay a tug-of-war rope.” She went to the drawer and pulled out the envelope, her eyes twinkling. Then she read the return address and frowned. “Oh.” Then, after a pause. “You want me to read it for you?” You nodded, and watched as she carefully slid a nail under the flap of the envelope. Her eyebrows knit, her face scrunching together more and more as her eyes moved down the letter. “Oh.” She said again, “Oh.”

“What is it Aika?”

“We, Megumi and Rina Fushiguro, humbly invite you, Y/N, to our baby shower!” Aika began monotonously, “this Saturday at 4, at our home. Please RSVP and you will receive the address in an email! Dinner and drinks provided, presents appreciated. We hope to see you there!” 

She looked up at you, gauging your reaction. Remember that shattering machine? It had come back, and it had just crushed those seemingly-unable-to-be-crushed-further pieces of your heart double time into microscopic dust. 

“Y/N/N,” Aika started, but you cut her off. 

“Don’t worry about me, I’m ok. It’s been years, I’m over it already,” you took a deep breath. “Really,” you added, seeing Aika’s unimpressed look. “I’ll get packing.”

If only you weren’t pretending. 

Isaac: "I dislike living in a world without Augustus Waters."

Computer: "I don't understand---"

Isaac: "Me neither. Pause."

its always “wyd” and not “I'm in love with you, and I'm not in the business of denying myself the simple pleasure of saying true things. I'm in love with you, and I know that love is just a shout into the void, and that oblivion is inevitable, and that we're all doomed and that there will come a day when all our labor has been returned to dust, and I know the sun will swallow the only earth we'll ever have, and I am in love with you.”

uh hi so!

i wrote this webpage that walks u thru looking after yourself when you know a thought is making you spiral. deployed it publicly bc i wanted it on mobile and i thought other people might like it too

check it oot

When cool people follow you so now youre mutuals and you’re trying to act cool like