“what’s It Like?”

WISH I COULD | love sick! gojo satoru + gn! reader | 1,995 words | fluff | mutual pining, hurt/comfort, very idiots in love trope-y

*:･ﾟ✧ summary: set around the time of the hidden inventory arc. gojo comforts reader after they've been injured on a mission, kisses it better. but he's a bit pathetically in love about it all. *:･ﾟ✧ warnings: mentions of canon - typical violence, minor injury

The damp air of the bathroom clings to your skin uncomfortably, making it hard to breathe. You lean on the sink, trying to steady your tired limbs. The buzzing noise from the LED and your laboured breathing becoming increasingly louder with each passing moment as the quiet feeling of unease spreads through your body. You take a swipe at the foggy mirror, trying to ground yourself and ward off the onslaught of panic that was sure to follow. Two bright red cuts - one between your eyebrows and one just below your right eye - mark your skin. They are quite shallow. Probably won’t leave a scar. But they sting just enough to make moving your face uncomfortable. And they will make for an annoying reminder of a night you’d rather forget for at least a few days. 

Your hairs stand up at the change in temperature upon leaving the steamy bathroom. But the feeling is almost refreshing. You stretch your body down on the bed, clinging to your towel. Really, you just hope you are tired enough to drift off. Usually, the familiarity of your dimly lit room would provide a sense of comfort and safety. Tonight you find the silence more disturbing than anything, your eyes drifting to dark corners and the high windows. But every time you try to close them, you see the same flashing images. Its disfigured face. Sharp claws swinging too close to your neck, almost making contact. You’re not even sure if the memory is real anymore, and not just amplified and made worse by your distressed brain. But it feels real enough.

So you lift yourself off the bed, rummaging through your piles of clothes for something comfortable and clean to put on. Despite your general uneasiness you walk through the halls a bit slower than you normally would, your arms folded across your chest, gripping the loose t-shirt. Just outside, the trees are swaying in the wind, branches colliding with the windows periodically, making your skin crawl a little bit more each time. You don’t really have a destination in mind. It is late. In fact, you aren’t really sure exactly how late it is, but there is always a chance someone else might be roaming about. Maybe in the kitchen. Or by the vending machines. 

You stop in front of a familiar door. It’s almost automatic, muscle memory. Your eyes trained on the door, you consider your options. He’s not exactly the most tactful of people, but you cannot stand the thought of spending another moment alone with your thoughts. You knock gently, praying he’s fast asleep but almost immediately the door cracks open.

“Uh, hey” Gojo was clearly caught off guard. Worn out sweater hanging off his broad shoulders, he looks cozy and you feel a stab of guilt for disturbing him. “What are you doing here anyway?” He chirps. You don’t want him to know about your near-failure of a mission. You just cannot bear his smug reaction and his smart-mouthed comments. 

“Don’t tell me that semi-first grade gave you trouble?” Satoru has always had a talent for sniffing out weaknesses and he wasn’t one to hesitate or show restraint in his delivery. “I’m almost disappointed, you know.”

“Is it that hard for you to show some basic human empathy every now and then?” That was harsh. But you were disappointed in yourself, too. It shouldn’t have been such a challenging mission, but you hesitated, you pulled back. You felt that paralysing sort of fear that was almost foreign at this point, that you know cannot allow yourself to feel out there all alone.

His body shouldn’t be drowned by such a rush of guilt for simply stating the truth, yet it is. He finds no anger in your eyes. The usual curious glint replaced with dull exhaustion. Then he feels worse. He scrambles to find the right words but they simply won’t come. After all, he has never been good at this, so why would you expect anything else? But when he sees you, you, trying to steady your trembling limbs, pulling at the wide sleeves of your shirt to find some sense of protection, he wishes he was better. He wishes he knew what to say and what to do. “What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Gojo doesn’t ask about your injuries. He watches you intently, noticing every small movement of your face and every twitch of a muscle. You don’t notice how his eyes soften, how his face is tense with worry. 

“I just need some company, if that’s ok?” Need. It’s silly and maybe a bit selfish of him to be analysing your choice in words given the situation. But he can’t help the way his heart swells at the thought. You need his company. Need him. It’s not that he doesn’t usually feel needed. People need him every day. He’d argue they need him a bit too much sometimes. Well, what they need are his abilities, his strength, so they have no other choice. But you chose to come to him. The realisation makes him light-headed. His mind racing as he tries to regain his composure. 

Suddenly he is too aware of the silence hanging heavy between the two of you. He doesn't trust himself to speak, so he just opens the door wider, stepping out of the way. 

You brush past him, heading straight for his unmade bed. The room is doused in the mellow blue light radiating from the TV. Satoru kneels down to rummage through his disorganised drawer. There’s a familiar bright smile on his face as he turns to you, holding a few different DVDs. “I’ll be nice and let you choose the movie”. 

“I don’t mind. Just pick your favourite.”

He narrows his eyes and squeezes his cheeks between long, slender fingers. Arms wrapped around your knees, you follow his movements. You watch as he fumbles with the case, mumbling about the dwarves and the elves, and grey and white wizards. Sparkling, wide blue eyes hold your gaze, are you listening? It’s amusing, the exaggerated hand movements, the animated facial expressions. His overwhelming presence lulls you away from the fear and uncertainty that had so completely overtaken your every sense. 

Satoru doesn’t mean to ramble so much. But he’s so nervous and he cannot stop himself from explaining the plot of the film in great detail, making silly jokes that he knows won’t make you laugh. Suguru would tell him to shut up. Shoko would also tell him to shut up, but in a harsher, meaner way. But they’re not here to do that, and that’s exactly his problem. It’s not that the two of you don’t ever spend time alone, you do. You train together, eat lunch together, even go on longer missions together. Never like this though. You have never been so alone that he has to keep looking at you, can’t look away to still his dizzying thoughts or the blood rushing to his ears. It has never been so quiet that he could hear your rhythmic, shallow breaths, periodically interrupted by a huff in response to his nonsense. It’s so much more than he is equipped to deal with. “And then she takes off her helmet and sa-”

Of course he catches the pillow flying towards his face and snuggles it to his broad chest. He looks at you with pouty lips and wounded eyes. “Why do you always have to spoil every movie we watch?”

“Why do you always have to be mean?” He slumps his shoulders as he walks towards you.

The bed dips beneath his weight as he settles on it with outstretched legs and arms tucked beneath his head. You try to follow his lead but you’re too fidgety, suddenly overly aware of the heat radiating off his body. The way his chest rises and falls with each breath. The way his pretty eyelashes flutter. You realise then you have moved to your side, openly staring at him. You make no effort to stop yourself as the overdue exhaustion finally takes over. Your body feeling heavier with every passing moment, sinking deeper into the mattress. 

The movie is just background noise to Satoru’s struggle for self control. He tries so hard not to look, to focus on anything but the way your body curls at his side but he just cannot. So he turns to look at your face. You’re so beautiful. He always thinks you’re so beautiful. When you look at him with stern eyes, arms folded over your chest, challenging him. When your mouth is pressed in a tight line at something that annoyed you. When you laugh with your nose scrunched up, trying to hold back cute little snorts. And he always wants so desperately to be closer to you. 

Before his common sense can catch up with his body, he extends his hand, gently tracing the claw mark between your eyebrows. “Does it hurt?” Your watery eyes, heavy with exhaustion flutter open at the contact. “Just a little”. He hums in response as his hand moves to cup your face, his thumb inspecting the cut on your temple. The clean, soapy scent of his skin drowns your senses. He is so very close. And his hands are so tender, so reverent on your face. Blood rushes to your cheeks in embarrassment, and you hope he doesn’t feel your skin burning at his touch. 

Wet lips part just slightly as he meets your gaze. His chest tightens and aches with these feelings that he cannot even begin to understand. All he knows is that, in that moment, you are the whole world. The rest of it fades to black, it’s insignificant. You are gravity.

“Can I kiss it better?” He really should be embarrassed about how absolutely pathetic he is being. But he cannot find it in himself to snap out of it. He needs to be closer to you. Closer than this. He needs to show you what he could never say. Not only because he would be too much of a coward to, but because he doesn’t know if the words he needs to say exist. 

You can hear your heart pounding in your ears. But it is him that feels so raw and vulnerable, waiting for you pull away. To crash against you and not into you. 

You nod. It’s small and reluctant but it’s there. You feel as though you might never move again as he inches closer to you. His lips hover over your forehead and you can feel his warm breath on your face. Strands of his hair tickle your skin as his thumb draws circles on your cheekbone. He hesitates. 

He is crumbling at the sight of you. Eyes wide in anticipation, you feel so warm, so welcoming. And he tries to memorise every little detail. The way your soft skin feels underneath his hands, the smell of you slightly damp hair. The way your eyebrows knot just a tiny bit. The colour of your eyes. The way your eyelashes curl and move. He wants to remember it all. Just in case he never gets another chance to. 

Then he kisses your injured face. His lips so soft and warm. It’s such a careful, caring kiss but so incredibly intimate. Your whole body trembles at the sensation.  He kisses your temple too. And somehow he’s even closer. You can feel him with every particle of your being. You want to pull him into you, melt your body with his. You want him to consume you whole. But that’s not something you could ever say. So you smile into the crook of his neck, and you hope he knows that he makes everything better. 

Not another word is said between the two of you as you let yourself succumb to overwhelming fatigue. Satoru doesn’t sleep for a single moment that night. 

thank you for reading! interaction is very much appreciated! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

@nathalunalune @utahimeow

well pee in a can and call me pie

i didn’t know if you’d care if i came back ｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

gojo satoru x reader | wc: 1k | L’s FOLKLORE event

“I can’t believe you.”

You’ve heard these words from him before, but not like this. They usually drip like honey from his silver tongue, with faux and teasing disbelief weaved in and around them. 

But right now, they sound cold, like a knife’s blade clinking against a glass table. He sounds hurt, you think, though you’re not sure what that sounds like coming from him. 

“Well, hello to you too, Gojo.”

“Don’t call me that,” he immediately heaves, as if your words burned him like a child touching a hot stove, “what is going on with you?” 

He stands a mere few feet away from you, but something far creakier than the wooden floorboards separates the space between the two of you, making it feel like lightyears rather than a few measly strides. 

His blindfold is off, it’s the first thing you notice. You can see his eyes—they’re just as beautiful as they were when you left, but something about them now appears weary. Slightly bloodshot, sulking into the bags that weigh beneath his eyelids, he looks exhausted. You can only imagine the headache pounding away behind his flesh. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were back?” his question is desperate, almost as if he can’t believe he’s actually asking it to you right now. 

Keep reading

Overview

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

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

AOT + JJK men as random pics i had saved on my phone

a complete shitpost while i slowly chip away at the rest of my RED (TV) event requests (^̮^) pt 2 & pt 3. hq version

EREN LMFAO, yuuji, connie

porco, JEAN, megumi, getou, yuuta

jean, porco, MEGUMI, reiner

armin, YUUTA, connie, yuuji

NANAMI, reiner, LEVI, inumaki

eren, GOJO, connie, inumaki

NOTE: if this was funny and u enjoyed pls let me know bc i was giggling and it was so easy to do LMFAO. i have so many pics like these in my saved 

Gojo is the type to flirt endlessly with the person he likes. All inappropriate jokes, invasion of personal space and wildly descriptive insinuations about how he'd be the best damn lover you could ask for if you give him a fucking chance.

But he is Gojo Satoru. The Gojo Satoru. So you know better and guard your heart as best as you can.

It wasn't the winks and kissy faces that made you blush. It wasn't the way he would introduce you to everyone as his future wife that made your heart beat erratically either.

It wasn't the relentless flirting and sappy declarations of love that made your students extremely uncomfortable that made you do a double take at him. It wasn't his loud proclamations and flamboyant gestures like filling the school field with your favorite flowers after learning you've never received a bouquet of flowers before in your life that made your heart swell with joy.

But..

It's the way he stood up to the elders defending your name when you're under scrutiny, the way he'd menacingly state so plainly, in such a calm clear voice, that he'd end everyone in the council if anybody tries to hurt you.

It's the way he would sit quietly with you after a tough job or when you lose another colleague, the way he would ease you into an embrace and hold you until you fall asleep in his arms. It's the way he would grab your cold hand as you stand in the rain hours after one of your beloved students had been buried 6 feet under.

Gojo would pout at you when you tell him you like him better when he's not as raucous as he usually is.

But he doesn't know that you mean you've fallen for him because of how much more loving and caring he is without even trying.

No grand stunts, no gimmicks. Just.. him.

Him and his ways that show you he'll always be there, without saying a damn thing.

been thinking about this for the past half hour.

the comment section is a joke but i got nothing