Need This Energy Right Now.

me: dude i don’t feel like writing

anon: *compliments my fic once*

me one millisecond later:

BAM: Empty Beds

in which king gojo satoru returns from a diplomatic mission to find his bed empty, and has qualms with it

gojo satoru x fem!reader

word count: 3k genre: kinda hurt/comfort but mostly fluff, royal au, childhood friends to lovers type: one-shot reader: fem (she/her pronouns, fem terms, fem clothing including dresses) warnings: gojo picks up the reader, the end is a little bit intense emotionally but not super bad the reader just has intimacy issues and gojo confronts her abt it

usurper!gojo tag || masterlist

“embrace me,” he orders, muffled against your throat. it’s sullen, demanding, and you make no move to comply.

your husband whines wordlessly at you—it’s that noise which calms the tumultuous unease within you, an assurance that whatever mood he’d been in is quickly passing (or that your touch is so important he’ll cast aside any other thoughts in favor of pleading with you). he kisses up your throat, along your jaw, only to nose against your cheek like some affectionate cat. when he speaks it’s a beg; beseeching. “embrace me, wife.”

“talk to me, husband,” you retort. “your sulking is bad for my health. i was terrified.”

against your skin, his lips quirk into a teasing smile. “you’re adorable when you’re terrified.”

Someone has slipped into your room.

You’re asleep. You have been for hours, yet Satoru’s borderline paranoid insistence on you learning to defend yourself even while resting have led to a far less deep manner of slumber, and so you’re roused by the simple sound of the door opening and are made aware of this unwelcome visitor the moment they enter.

It’s all you can do to keep still, even out your breath. Your mind conjures thoughts of your guards slaughtered just beyond your door, your maids and your ladies-in-waiting massacred in your vast array of rooms meant to be a sanctuary, your king returning home from his diplomatic trip east to find your own body not even in your shared bed but in the lonely one occupying the queen’s bedchamber, yours in name but so rarely used.

You hear the figure’s footsteps approach you; they sound large, imposing, though you dare not open your eyes until the ornate dagger beneath your pillow is in hand and the possible assassin close enough that it can do you any good.

Your fingers find the heavy hilt, wrap around it securely just as the mattress beneath you dips with the weight of the trespasser. The motions are ingrained in your body from weeks of practice with your husband; you lash out, knife against the intruder’s throat before they can realize you’re not asleep, aiming to slash at the throat—but then you pause, thankful that you’d opened your eyes to see the face of your attacker before you spilled their blood.

“Satoru?”

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i’m sat

general relativity for babies

i do not have the strength to block all the bots. welcome ladies make yourselves at home i guess. im a feminist

Tell the moths in my tummy to relocate, please

Synopsis: In which 40° weather grants you insight into Satoru’s powers Word Count: 2.0k

Story Content: Female reader, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Seemingly unrequited pining, Idiots in love but they don’t even know it yet, Slow-burn (doesn’t get anywhere), Crackfic, We learn the many ways in which Satoru can use his technique, Reader POV!

A/N: this is a celcius only household (kidding. but not really.) This has been in my drafts for a reaaaally long time im just glad its out honestly

GOJO SATORU is a frigid blast of cold air during a warm summer day. 

It’s surprising, considering his typical characterisation. People, yourself included, likened him to the sun. Bright and blinding. That’s how the pillar of the Jujutsu world should be, they’d say. He’s the epitome of sorcery. The honored one, they’d praise. 

Just to be clear, you thought of him as the sun for entirely different reasons. Reasons that you weren’t about to go into too detail about. But just as a tiny, small little hint: It had to do with his body temperature. And you were currently being quickly betrayed by what you once thought was fact.

“Am I a portable air-con?”

“Yeah,” you spit at him. Half in betrayal and half in fascination, you huff, gripping his elbows to keep him still as you tuck your body against him, forcing his technique over you with your own. 

The chill settles into your bones and makes you sigh sweetly. It almost makes you forget about how the sun was shining a little too brightly into your eyes. 

In the back of your mind, you can’t help but envy him and his thousand dollar shades. Did he bring a spare? Could you have them? 

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What’s your favourite fairly accurate science film

Reddit wins this one

[Image ID: post from Reddit thread r/thelastofus titled "When is a gay relationship on screen not "political propoganda?""

Post reads: "It's the same criticism I see levied at the last episode over and over again. "I'm fine with gay people, but keep politics out of my entertainment."

I'm genuinely curious. How in the holy hell is a gay relationship pictured on screen inherently "political?"

It's maddening man. I'd prefer they just come out and say what they're actually thinking."

User catnap_kismet replies: "there are two sexualities, straight and political. there are two genders, male and political. there are two races, white and political. etc".

This reply has many awards and 1.2k upvotes

End ID]

8:01

“Did you-“

You blinked up at him and waited for the rest of the question. He coughed and looked over the top of your head before trying again.

“Did you want to st-“

He faltered when his eyes landed back on you. You looked happy and ready to wait in his arms forever while he sorted out his words.

“Is Bakugou okay?”

“I think Y/N broke him.”

“Ribbit.”

His grip tightened on you for a moment before he slid his arms up to wrap around your head instead of your shoulders. You giggled at the makeshift muscle earmuffs.

“SHUT UP EXTRAS OR I-“

You had wriggled free and had a brow raised at him. You were too close to risk yelling.

“-or I’ll murder you.” He spoke over the top of your head at the small audience.

“Let’s go study, Bakugou.” He huffed in reply and looked back down at you, trying to hide a pout. He also tried not to smile when he saw you still half buried in his arms.

“Oi, don’t call me that. I didn’t even yell that loud…for most of it.” He head-butted you softly, earning a laugh from you.

“Maybe stop saying you’ll murder our friends.”

He looked unsatisfied.

“C’mon, Katsuki. Let’s go study. You seemed distracted by something today.” You blinked up at him innocently. He smiled and leaned forward to growl into your ear.

“Wonder if it had to do with someone pulling me into that stairwell and…”

He looked up to see Jirou was one of the people in the room. He opened his mouth to resume shouting, but closed it when he realized you were already tugging him toward the elevators.

“I’ll murder you guys later.”

“Sure you will.”

“Have fun, studying.”

“Ribbit.”

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