Gojo Satoru X Reader, MAJOR Hurt/comfort, Angst To Fluff, I Just Hope I Did This Blurb Justice. NOT EDITED

ೀ*: ･ﾟrandom suna texts!

his playlist to you♡

ACCIDENTAL CONFESSIONS

smau ft eren jeager and armin arlert

- swearing, eren is a lil bitch-

EREN !

ARMIN !

- i’ve made levi as well, and i kinda wanna do jean. idk

Get down on it

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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Okay, hear me out:

I’m happy Avery was a bad friend to Max. I’m happy she hurt the people around her.

When I first read TIG, I remember thinking that Avery was *such* a Mary Sue in the first few chapters. For context, this is what Wikipedia says a Mary Sue is: “A Mary Sue is a character archetype in fiction, usually a young woman, who is often portrayed as inexplicably competent across all domains, gifted with unique talents or powers.” I mean, she was the quiet “wallpaper” girl with only one friend who faced hardships and lived out of her car occasionally, yet still did well in school, successfully ran a poker ring, and then befriended + played a homeless man for the privilege of buying him breakfast every day. I thought I would dislike Avery because of this.

But we get to see the actions that drove the Mary Sue impression hurt those around her. She managed to be so successful in school while managing a job, tumultuous family relationships, and a poker ring because she’s stubborn, driven, and focused.

However, her focus nurtured selfishness, as she was only able to focus on her situation, therefore causing that temporary rift between her and Max. Her life situation was dire, but that doesn’t erase the fact that Max had felt like she wasn’t listened to for a length of time. Avery’s explanations for being an inattentive friend are valid, but they don’t excuse it. Although, she did listen to Max in TIG and aspired to be a better/more attentive friend. Despite this, she still forgot about Max’s birthday in THL because she was so focused on Emily’s birthday auction and the family affairs:

“And that was when I realized: ‘Today’s your birthday, too.’

‘Too?’ For a split second, I saw raw emotion behind Max’s eyes” (THL 121).

Similarly, while I won’t be finding quotes for it, Avery acknowledged that she became negligent of Libby as she focused on her new situation, the puzzles, and the boys.

Also, in THL, Avery’s stubbornness and drive hurt Oren. She continues pulling on the Toby thread, eventually leading to the plane bomb incident. Avery says: “Alisa didn’t like the idea of my visiting Hawthorne Island. Oren liked it even less. But there was no stopping me now” (THL 292). Because of this, men *die.* Now, Avery didn’t kill those men, but both her and Oren recognize that it was avoidable:

“His voice got tighter. ‘Two of my men didn’t make it.’

Devastating guilt drilled through me. . .‘I’m sorry.’

Oren didn’t tell me not to be. He didn’t say that if I hadn’t pushed to go to Rockaway Watch, those men would still be alive” (THL 310).

I love that her traits were double-edged, and I love that they were truly bad. So often, the flaws female characters are allowed are negligible— especially regarding consequences and accountability. It’s also notable because JLB said she wrote Avery with the ability to go toe-to-toe with the “magic” Hawthorne brothers; it would have been so convenient to subdue her flaws. Yet, Avery didn’t have traits which existed only as flaws to check a box; she had traits that acted as both assets and liabilities. She successfully managed the adversity dealt to her because of such, but also equally hurt those around her— and for that, I’m happy. I thought she would be a Mary Sue, but her actions in the beginning of TIG are simply one side of the coin. It saved Avery from being an unfortunate archetype, instead transforming her into a dynamic, realistic, understandable, and relatable character.

Extra: people get mad at Jameson because he was so focused on the puzzle in TIG that he hurt Avery— but she did the exact same thing to the few people who cared about her. Let’s not absolve her of and feel guilt only for Avery in order to villainize Jameson and make his mistakes uniquely indicative of his moral failings. Their hunger can be selfish. Let’s recognize that, like Avery, Jameson’s drive and focus are nuanced. In contrast, Alisa and Nash’s drives were unmatched, which led to their downfall—but that’s a whole separate discussion.

Extra extra: ignore any spelling or grammar mistakes. I’m not double checking this because I’m hungry and want to go eat :(. Also, I definitely was swinging like a pendulum between present and past tense as I discussed the story and evidence— ignore this. It’s a bad habit that I always have to pay special attention to while editing papers, but like I said, I’m not rereading this.

literally thought about adult bakugou meeting his middle schoo self and crushing him in hug and little him being stunned

"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.

—

i hate this country more than myself but watching christian pulisic’s sexy ass put his whole soccerussy into trying to score against england’s astronomically better football team is making me feel vaguely patriotic

tw: cheating accusation

“Are you fucking her?”

Katsuki stands. With a slow, deliberate movement, he places both hands on the table and leans forward, those vermilion eyes finding yours in an unblinking stare.

“You wanna repeat that?” his lip arches in disgust, “Because I’m pretty sure I misheard you.”

Your heart beat buzzes across your skin. Anxiety eats at you, but the anger and pain pushes you forward. “Are you fucking her?" 

Bakugo doesn’t move, but the vein on his jaw grows more defined as he grinds his teeth together. "Why would you ask me that?”

“You’re not saying no.”

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