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javarium · 15 hours
Text
smart bunny
kaeya x reader reupload from my prev blog @.i23kazu comfort & fluff. teasing & banter and reader cries a bit
kaeya, who is your study partner for the day.
he's not the best study partner – he usually prefers to work in solitude – watching him tap his pencil on the desk and spin it around is horribly distracting for you. but there's a soft smile on his face - and oh, it's attractive, so attractive that you can't help but excuse all his actions in lieu of seeing that angelic upturn of his lips.
it's still annoying though. it's annoyingly stupid how good kaeya looks with furrowed brows, with his head bent so far into his books that you're afraid you'd lose him to a passage on molecular biology.
what's even more annoying, you ask? the slight teasing comments he makes whenever you get a question wrong.
with a hint of blush on your face, you feel your annoyance getting worse as he starts to teach you once you ( very reluctantly ) ask him for help.
"hey, i thought i taught you this? is the bunny's mind too small today for biology?" he laughs, tapping the side of your head with his pen. whatever lightheartedness he wanted to convey must have gotten lost in translation, because his words hurt.
you're not stupid. you're not. you're not- shit, you couldn't even understand something that he explained at least twice already. just quit, it'd be easier for both of you, right?
"i'm sorry. just- just forget about it." you blink away tears, your hands rushing about to gather your study materials back into your bag. it was such an offhanded statement– spoken without a second thought to kaeya – so why did that hurt so much more than you had thought it would?
kaeya's face falls immediately.
"shit- i'm sorry, i was just playing- how can i make it better?" he panics, grabbing your hand then gathering your face in the palms of his hands. he wipes your stray tears away with his thumbs, and a sweet, gentle kiss is pressed to your forehead. a stark difference from his usual teasing, banter-engaging self.
"please stay. you're not stupid. i was just joking, i'm sorry. i shouldn't have said that."
"it's fine."
"clearly, it's not."
"just forget it." you hiccup, turning away. this was embarrassing. bawling your eyes out over a little comment.
"i'm not forgetting it – not when it's made you so upset. please, forgive me?" you nod hesitantly, burying your face into his chest.
"you're the smartest bunny i know."
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javarium · 17 hours
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@vagabond-umlaut kit you look so good! :3 i love it when you tag me in these, they’re super fun haha 😆 I also made two of these bc I was ✨inspired✨
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first one was inspired by the idea of getting my motorcycle license and seeing a biker! wriothesley art the other day got me feeling some way
— open tags bc I’m lazy 😆
@tomtomslongdong thank u for tagging me honey! you know i love cute shit like this hehehe
the goal is to make it look as much like yourself as possible, so <3
link to make your own here
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pssssst please feel free to tell me to fuck off if you don't like being tagged in these but: @calumfmu @cinemabean @eddiesxangel @eiightysixbaby @ghostlyfleur @joshlmbrt @lighteyed @littlexdeaths @obriengf @urhoneycombwitch @xxbimbobunnyxx (alternatively if you enjoy participating in these and i didn't tag you pls lmk and i promise to tag you from now on)
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javarium · 4 days
Note
Could you please do Sanrio / hello kitty themed dividers? And thank you for all the work you do!!
hi and yes, I could give this a shot! I love sanrio characters 💖 I tried to do a range for you - I hope you like these!
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[Free] Masterlist Headers & Dividers!
Please consider liking or reblogging if you use 💕
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javarium · 5 days
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javarium · 6 days
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@vagabond-umlaut LOOKIE
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v1
im not okay
not Jin but you know, what if his twin had been born too
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javarium · 7 days
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I’m so happy to finally get to sit down and read this at long last. The last few days have been extremely draining and it doesn’t help my period is right around the corner and the pms symptoms have hit. I super enjoyed finally getting to relax and enjoy chapter 3. Vv giddy for the next installment ;3
synchronise 3.0
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On one end of the line, you've sunny days, mild breezes and not one thing to worry over. On the other end, there are only moonless nights, foul gales and one too many decisions– made and unmade– to repent for. And in the middle of this line segment, is you—
The only means by which the scales can be re-balanced. The equilibrium lost can be re-discovered. The wheels of life thrown off-kilter can be re-synchronised.
[Long story short: Time can be a funny little bitch— Good thing, you know how to be funnier than time itself!]
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gojo satoru x fem!reader; canon divergence; time travel fix-it; no warnings except the characters themselves featuring here; note [dw- this will make sense later on]: Asia is the largest continent on earth, while Europe is the second-smallest continent; reader has two brothers [js mentioned here]
prev chapter // synchronise masterlist // THE masterlist
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chapter three: T-Junction (Ⅰ)
Siblings... are complicated.
You don't really hate them, no. Not at all, honestly speaking.
Your two brothers mean the world to you— okay, maybe not the world. But they do mean a continent to you each. Maybe not Asia... maybe Europe... yeah, Europe sounds apt enough— Anyway, the point is: you love your brothers very much and are willing to punch anyone if that's what makes them happy. Still, you can't help but see siblings as somewhat complicated...
Which is why, your reckon, you feel so conflicted on seeing your probable-sister.
Are you happy? Yes. Of course. You finally have a sister, after all.
But are you really, truly happy?
... No, you aren't.
You're upset, your parents' affection for their kids will now be divided into four instead of three. You're upset, your parents have been hiding such information for so long. You're upset, this woman's abrupt appearance is bound to wreck havoc, in your already far too chaotic world.
You're upset, you're hurt, you're mad—
"I'm not the long-lost sister you might be thinking I am— I'm you, from the future."
You know you should be confused. You should be skeptical, you know this too. You should ask for proof– For all you know, she might be a con artist perfect at impersonation– It's really, really imperative for you to ask her for some form of proof, before engaging in any further interaction...
Yet all you do is take a small step forwards, so as to regard your alleged future self more keenly.
Only to take a step back, a shocked gasp barely stifled on realising– recognising– her presence entirely...
"You're really me," you murmur, voice far too low despite there being no one here to eavesdrop on you or 'the other you'. The latter's lips quirk up in a faint ghost of a smile. "You're much easier to convince than I thought you would be... It's not good to be this believing, y'know. Life won't go easy on you."
Perhaps, it won't. Perhaps, it will. But:
"Life hasn't gone too easy on you either, has it?" The question slips past you into the suffocating staleness of the alleyway... Not that you ever made any effort to stop it whatsoever, however. The smile shot at you fades into something raw, something visibly wounded— Should you care?
No. Maybe you should, but you won't.
You... simply don't want to.
Shifting your weight from one foot to another, you fold your arms across your chest and continue, "You look like absolute shit— Has anyone told you this yet, lady? Well, I'm telling you now: You Do," the words leave you in a sneer, allowing her no space to answer the ask. The latter was rhetoric anyway. "Your hair looks off, your face looks off, even your clothes— Goodness!" you let out a gasp, following it with harsh chuckles. Totally ignoring the flinch you receive in response.
"Did you come straight from a funeral, eh? And please don't even get me started on your cursed energy— mine is so fucking bright, so fucking powerful, people find themselves struggling to to breathe if I ever let the entire potential of mine loose! But yours? Heh," you scoff, smirking at her distressed features, "I know you're me but yours is nothing but a disgrace to mine: dull, weak, broken and fractured—"
CRASH!!!
The thunderous noise cuts you off from speaking.
And you whirl round, eyes the shape of saucers and your heart in your thraot, to find hell-like chaos unfolding in the china shop across the road: the owners screaming, the customers screaming, people pushing and shoving each other in their hurry to run out the cramped shop...
One they definitely believe to be haunted, from the way everything in there is now smashed to pieces...
Your older self is wearing a very stupid, very sheepish smile when you turn back around. She awkwardly scratches her neck then runs a hand through her hair, before sending you a crooked little grin this time.
"Sorry, uh. Silly emotions got the better of me, huh," she says, as if she did not just level a shop full of expensive crockery to the ground. The place is literally reeking of her– no, your– no, her!– cursed energy.  So blinding, so intense, you wonder how the people in there escaped from their organs being crushed by the sheer force of it...
"Anyway," A carefree hum drags you away from your racing thoughts of not-so-mild terror, "what was that you were talking 'bout again? Something related to my attire or my cursed ener–"
"Hey, no. Not at all," you don't waste even a fraction of a beat in denying. The woman's grin simmers down to a sharp shrewd tilt of her lips. "You can just forget whatever I was talking 'bout then. It's all nonsense, trust me. Nothing you got to worry about, haha."
"Okay," she agrees easily, moving to sit down on the box where Satoru and you were sitting before, waving a hand to call you over. You immediately comply with her request. Your older self regards you quietly for a couple beats before slumping back against the wall with a sigh.
You watch her look skywards before returning her focus to you.
"You must be wondering how– more importantly– why I'm here, right?"
Are you?
No, not really. You're actually wondering how on earth she got so powerful that she could cause such destruction despite the significant distance in between, without breaking into a single bead of sweat. You can't even focus enough to crush a dozen soda cans without needing a break in between.
Nevertheless, you don't let that stop you from returning an eager nod.
If the woman notes how forced it seems, she makes no mention of it, continuing, "Well, I'm not here from the future on a picnic, that's the only thing I can tell you for now... or ever, for that matter," she adds after a moment's contemplation.
"Things have gone kind of... let's say, wrong in the future. Yeah, wrong," she repeats after yet another moment's thought, "Like, really, really wrong. More like, disaster-level wrong." Her gaze falls to the purse in her hands, before lifting again to meet yours. "And I seriously need your help to make them right again, kid— considering this is the point where everything went off-track. This is the point where the two of us can ensure everything stays on the track."
"So tell me, kid," she twists to face you, desperation written all over her face— Not that you'll ever comment on it, though. Just because she is easy-going now, it doesn't mean you've to forget what happened not even ten minutes back—
"Do you wanna help me– and via that, yourself– out or not?"
A beat passes. Then another. And another.
You let your back hit the wall, biting back a defeated, already-fatigued groan...
She's acting as if you've got a goddamn choice in this godforsaken matter.
Her future is your future. So, if anything goes to hell in her future, it's doomed to go to hell in yours too. No questions asked, no conditions applied... You decide not to restrain the tinge– no, flood of your resignation in your tone this time.
"I'll help you out, okay," you concede, jumping down from the box and dusting your trousers.
The woman looks extremly delighted at your agreement— so much so that you think she might pull you into a tight hug. To avoid that, you move few steps away, and shoot a stiff smile back.
Her grin widens, if it was even possible at this point... Rising as well, she merrily ambles over to you and plucks out a terribly crumpled, terribly yellowed piece of film from her purse—
It's a family.
It's a photograph of a family—
A very cute, seemingly very happy family of three, if you're being honest.
There's the father, with a grimace-y smile and flattened black hair; and there's the mother, with an equally sweet beam and spiky black hair; then there's the kid– a teeny-tiny infant, to be specific– sucking on their thumb in their mom's arms, with the latter's spiky black hair...
You look up from the photo with a frown. "Am I supposed to find them or something?"
"Yup, you are," Your older version affirms with a hum— Before her cheeriness melts away into something far graver. And you reckon, it becomes her more than those eerie grins she was wearing before...
Clasping you by the shoulder, she bends an inch to look you in the eye. Words morphing into a mere wary whisper as she resumes:
"Then you're supposed to stop Zen'in Toji from going back to being an assassin. Kill him if you must, kid. But make sure, by hook or by crook, the world doesn't witness the return of the Sorcerer Killer."
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nothing much to say, other than hoping this chapter was enjoyable!!! likes, comments & reblogs r vm welcome & appreciated! tysm to everyone who has supported this silly fic of mine till now *mwah mwah* 💗💗💗
header from pinterest; dividers by @benkeibear; jjk isn't mine
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javarium · 9 days
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@vagabond-umlaut ITS SO CUTE ☺️
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oomf wanted a totoro x jjk crossover 🥹🌱
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javarium · 9 days
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Learning to draw Mr. I Refuse to Call You That
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javarium · 10 days
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synchronise 3.0
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On one end of the line, you've sunny days, mild breezes and not one thing to worry over. On the other end, there are only moonless nights, foul gales and one too many decisions– made and unmade– to repent for. And in the middle of this line segment, is you—
The only means by which the scales can be re-balanced. The equilibrium lost can be re-discovered. The wheels of life thrown off-kilter can be re-synchronised.
[Long story short: Time can be a funny little bitch— Good thing, you know how to be funnier than time itself!]
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gojo satoru x fem!reader; canon divergence; time travel fix-it; no warnings except the characters themselves featuring here; note [dw- this will make sense later on]: Asia is the largest continent on earth, while Europe is the second-smallest continent; reader has two brothers [js mentioned here]
prev chapter // synchronise masterlist // THE masterlist
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chapter three: T-Junction (Ⅰ)
Siblings... are complicated.
You don't really hate them, no. Not at all, honestly speaking.
Your two brothers mean the world to you— okay, maybe not the world. But they do mean a continent to you each. Maybe not Asia... maybe Europe... yeah, Europe sounds apt enough— Anyway, the point is: you love your brothers very much and are willing to punch anyone if that's what makes them happy. Still, you can't help but see siblings as somewhat complicated...
Which is why, your reckon, you feel so conflicted on seeing your probable-sister.
Are you happy? Yes. Of course. You finally have a sister, after all.
But are you really, truly happy?
... No, you aren't.
You're upset, your parents' affection for their kids will now be divided into four instead of three. You're upset, your parents have been hiding such information for so long. You're upset, this woman's abrupt appearance is bound to wreck havoc, in your already far too chaotic world.
You're upset, you're hurt, you're mad—
"I'm not the long-lost sister you might be thinking I am— I'm you, from the future."
You know you should be confused. You should be skeptical, you know this too. You should ask for proof– For all you know, she might be a con artist perfect at impersonation– It's really, really imperative for you to ask her for some form of proof, before engaging in any further interaction...
Yet all you do is take a small step forwards, so as to regard your alleged future self more keenly.
Only to take a step back, a shocked gasp barely stifled on realising– recognising– her presence entirely...
"You're really me," you murmur, voice far too low despite there being no one here to eavesdrop on you or 'the other you'. The latter's lips quirk up in a faint ghost of a smile. "You're much easier to convince than I thought you would be... It's not good to be this believing, y'know. Life won't go easy on you."
Perhaps, it won't. Perhaps, it will. But:
"Life hasn't gone too easy on you either, has it?" The question slips past you into the suffocating staleness of the alleyway... Not that you ever made any effort to stop it whatsoever, however. The smile shot at you fades into something raw, something visibly wounded— Should you care?
No. Maybe you should, but you won't.
You... simply don't want to.
Shifting your weight from one foot to another, you fold your arms across your chest and continue, "You look like absolute shit— Has anyone told you this yet, lady? Well, I'm telling you now: You Do," the words leave you in a sneer, allowing her no space to answer the ask. The latter was rhetoric anyway. "Your hair looks off, your face looks off, even your clothes— Goodness!" you let out a gasp, following it with harsh chuckles. Totally ignoring the flinch you receive in response.
"Did you come straight from a funeral, eh? And please don't even get me started on your cursed energy— mine is so fucking bright, so fucking powerful, people find themselves struggling to to breathe if I ever let the entire potential of mine loose! But yours? Heh," you scoff, smirking at her distressed features, "I know you're me but yours is nothing but a disgrace to mine: dull, weak, broken and fractured—"
CRASH!!!
The thunderous noise cuts you off from speaking.
And you whirl round, eyes the shape of saucers and your heart in your thraot, to find hell-like chaos unfolding in the china shop across the road: the owners screaming, the customers screaming, people pushing and shoving each other in their hurry to run out the cramped shop...
One they definitely believe to be haunted, from the way everything in there is now smashed to pieces...
Your older self is wearing a very stupid, very sheepish smile when you turn back around. She awkwardly scratches her neck then runs a hand through her hair, before sending you a crooked little grin this time.
"Sorry, uh. Silly emotions got the better of me, huh," she says, as if she did not just level a shop full of expensive crockery to the ground. The place is literally reeking of her– no, your– no, her!– cursed energy.  So blinding, so intense, you wonder how the people in there escaped from their organs being crushed by the sheer force of it...
"Anyway," A carefree hum drags you away from your racing thoughts of not-so-mild terror, "what was that you were talking 'bout again? Something related to my attire or my cursed ener–"
"Hey, no. Not at all," you don't waste even a fraction of a beat in denying. The woman's grin simmers down to a sharp shrewd tilt of her lips. "You can just forget whatever I was talking 'bout then. It's all nonsense, trust me. Nothing you got to worry about, haha."
"Okay," she agrees easily, moving to sit down on the box where Satoru and you were sitting before, waving a hand to call you over. You immediately comply with her request. Your older self regards you quietly for a couple beats before slumping back against the wall with a sigh.
You watch her look skywards before returning her focus to you.
"You must be wondering how– more importantly– why I'm here, right?"
Are you?
No, not really. You're actually wondering how on earth she got so powerful that she could cause such destruction despite the significant distance in between, without breaking into a single bead of sweat. You can't even focus enough to crush a dozen soda cans without needing a break in between.
Nevertheless, you don't let that stop you from returning an eager nod.
If the woman notes how forced it seems, she makes no mention of it, continuing, "Well, I'm not here from the future on a picnic, that's the only thing I can tell you for now... or ever, for that matter," she adds after a moment's contemplation.
"Things have gone kind of... let's say, wrong in the future. Yeah, wrong," she repeats after yet another moment's thought, "Like, really, really wrong. More like, disaster-level wrong." Her gaze falls to the purse in her hands, before lifting again to meet yours. "And I seriously need your help to make them right again, kid— considering this is the point where everything went off-track. This is the point where the two of us can ensure everything stays on the track."
"So tell me, kid," she twists to face you, desperation written all over her face— Not that you'll ever comment on it, though. Just because she is easy-going now, it doesn't mean you've to forget what happened not even ten minutes back—
"Do you wanna help me– and via that, yourself– out or not?"
A beat passes. Then another. And another.
You let your back hit the wall, biting back a defeated, already-fatigued groan...
She's acting as if you've got a goddamn choice in this godforsaken matter.
Her future is your future. So, if anything goes to hell in her future, it's doomed to go to hell in yours too. No questions asked, no conditions applied... You decide not to restrain the tinge– no, flood of your resignation in your tone this time.
"I'll help you out, okay," you concede, jumping down from the box and dusting your trousers.
The woman looks extremly delighted at your agreement— so much so that you think she might pull you into a tight hug. To avoid that, you move few steps away, and shoot a stiff smile back.
Her grin widens, if it was even possible at this point... Rising as well, she merrily ambles over to you and plucks out a terribly crumpled, terribly yellowed piece of film from her purse—
It's a family.
It's a photograph of a family—
A very cute, seemingly very happy family of three, if you're being honest.
There's the father, with a grimace-y smile and flattened black hair; and there's the mother, with an equally sweet beam and spiky black hair; then there's the kid– a teeny-tiny infant, to be specific– sucking on their thumb in their mom's arms, with the latter's spiky black hair...
You look up from the photo with a frown. "Am I supposed to find them or something?"
"Yup, you are," Your older version affirms with a hum— Before her cheeriness melts away into something far graver. And you reckon, it becomes her more than those eerie grins she was wearing before...
Clasping you by the shoulder, she bends an inch to look you in the eye. Words morphing into a mere wary whisper as she resumes:
"Then you're supposed to stop Zen'in Toji from going back to being an assassin. Kill him if you must, kid. But make sure, by hook or by crook, the world doesn't witness the return of the Sorcerer Killer."
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nothing much to say, other than hoping this chapter was enjoyable!!! likes, comments & reblogs r vm welcome & appreciated! tysm to everyone who has supported this silly fic of mine till now *mwah mwah* 💗💗💗
header from pinterest; dividers by @benkeibear; jjk isn't mine
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javarium · 13 days
Text
Tumblr PSA:
Idk how long this is going to be an issue. Maybe forever. But when you're tagging people in Tumblr posts, you need to start tagging them in groups of five. After each group, press enter and tag the next group in a new block. If you do not do that, all of the tags after the first five will not work.
I learned this the hard way.
Your tags need to be organized like this.
@/tag1 @/tag2 @/tag3 @/tag4 @/tag5
@/tag6 @/tag7 @/tag8 @/tag9 @/tag10
@/tag11 @/tag12 @/tag13 @/tag14 @/tag15
And so on.
Hopefully this doesn't last forever, but it's definitely the way you have to do it for now.
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javarium · 14 days
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I couldn’t help myself when I saw this! this is too cute and wholesome omg <333
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— woke up late and haven’t had coffee yet so the only people I can think to tag are @vagabond-umlaut and @4sat0ruu and @yuujispinkhair
come & take a beatrix potter picrew with me !
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tagging : @thexianzhoujade @ryuryuryuyurboat @faesther @the-guardian-kitsune @scribetry @lemonarcade @dumbificat @yvnaology @mydiluc @lovelyluc ( no pressure !!! <3 ) + anyone else who wld like to join !
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javarium · 14 days
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pushing my princess geto agenda
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javarium · 14 days
Text
synchronise 2.0
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On one end of the line, you've sunny days, mild breezes and not one thing to worry over. On the other end, there are only moonless nights, foul gales and one too many decisions– made and unmade– to repent for. And in the middle of this line segment, is you—
The only means by which the scales can be re-balanced. The equilibrium lost can be re-discovered. The wheels of life thrown off-kilter can be re-synchronised.
[Long story short: Time can be a funny little bitch— Good thing, you know how to be funnier than time itself!]
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gojo satoru x fem!reader; canon divergence; time travel fix-it; the story begins here... freaking finallyyy 🤗🤗; tw: food mentions and mild *friendly* violence
prev chapter // synchronise masterlist // THE masterlist
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chapter two: 23/3/2005
Working in a coffee shop sucks.
Sure, there are many nice things about the job: free coffee, yummy brownies, upbeat music, lenient managers and a pretty good pay— Still, you deem it to be the worst of the worst— Many, many thanks to the white-haired, shades-wearing abomination across the counter.
You decide not to hold back your grimace when he grins.
"You're looking very cute today, y'know?"
"Yeah, I know. I've got a mirror in my room," You retort, trying to wring and squeeze every bit of your exhaustion– exasperation– into the sigh ensuing, "Now, can you tell me your order quickly? People are getting late because of you."
"Oh, let them be," The boy waves your concerns away with an uncaring chuckle, "Surely, none of them is as important, or as generous, a customer as me— are they, candy?"
No, they aren't.
Neither the university student, nor the mother of those triplets, nor the salaryman, nor the elderly couple at the end of the queue: None of them buy as much as this boy does, yet– given your math is correct [it always is]– their collective purchases amount to more than the cost of whatever new solution of sucrose and caffeine he comes up with each new day...
Your teeth clack against each other as you peer up, eyes narrowing into slits, "Look, this is the last time I'm asking you. Tell me your bloody orders and step away, or–"
A cold palm over yours startles you into a sudden still.
And your hand moves before your brain can even grasp what the hell just happened– or directs, what will happen.
---
"You're not going to say sorry."
You should apologise to Gojo. You know you must do that.
Both of you have shared far too many casual touches for you to react this way– for you to twist his wrist then punch his face– at the mere feel of his palm on yours— Still, you choose to keep your mouth shut, willing your mind to focus only on the trash you've been tasked to take out.
A task seeming impossible now, thanks to the blinding reservoir of cursed energy trailing behind you from the time you were asked to leave the billing counter... Insistent, persistent, terribly obstinate— You huff a quiet groan when two familiar footsteps sound across the kitchen, following even into the dark alleyway behind the shop.
He calls your name. It sounds somewhat desperate– or maybe that's just your wishful thinking. Maybe you should stop watching those stupid, unrealistic romance movies— "So, you've decided you won't apologise, huh?"
"No," You reply, terse and firm, stopping but without throwing a glance backwards, "Why must I say sorry for your piss-poor blocking abilities, hm? Go improve your skills instead of bugging me at my part-time job... Just go, Sato– H-hey! W-what—"
The boy's reaction shouldn't shock you.
No, really. It shouldn't. You ought to be more used to the phenomenon named 'Gojo Satoru' by now, after twelve long years of close friendship with him... So sad, all that time together does nothing to stop your squeak of surprise when he wraps an arm round your midsection then snatches the bag of rubbish, effortlessly throwing it into the bin more than a few feet away.
Your muscles instantly grow tense, readying to fight to be free— only to relax when you hear your name. Spoken so softly... so carefully... Almost as if you aren't some furious animal baring its canines; almost as if you're some fragile glass figurine.
You don't like it, but can't really bring yourself to hate it either. Not when Gojo's voice sounds so worried when he asks, "Skipped your breakfast, mochi?"
"No." You return a sharp shake of your head.
Making you sit on an empty cardboard box by the wall, he crouches down before you. And asks, "Got yelled at by someone in your family, then?"
"No." You shake your head again, albeit with lesser edge this time. Confusion pushes your brows into a deep furrow, your mouth into a sour frown. "Why are you asking me these, Satoru? What the hell is wrong with you?"
The addressed's features break from their state of extreme focus, to become one of extreme hurt, before reverting to their state of extreme focus. Gojo removes his glasses, the shine of his blue eyes increasing manifold as they travel over your form, finally settling on your face.
Absolutely hating the tingles now dancing in your chest, you watch the boy exhale a sigh.
A very long, very tired sigh.
"There's nothing wrong with me, candy... There's something really wrong with you— You've been snappish and rude since today morning. And don't ev–" He falls silent, features scrunching up for a beat before lighting up in a moment of pure happy realisation. Too happy realisation, you think, watching the mile-wide grin on his face.
"You're sad because I'll be moving away next month and you've been pushing me away because you're sad— Isn't that right, candy? Isn't that right? Right? Right???"
Probably. Possibly. Almost certainly–
You lean back into the wall, schooling your face into one pretty unbothered.
After all... It won't do now if you confess to him all your fears and concerns. It won't do ever if you confess to him all your fears and concerns...
"You're not leaving for Jujutsu High in a month, idiot," You say, sternly ignoring the dull ache the thought makes in your heart, "You're leaving in less than a week. Auntie called today morni— 'Toru, no!"
Yanking the phone from his hand, you flip it shut and stuff it into your pocket. Then glare when you find Gojo reaching towards it. Bright beam now nowhere to be seen, the boy glares back and huffing, gets up to plop down onto the box beside yours.
You stare at the marks on your fingers for a while, before looping an arm round his shoulders— Shoulders, you never realised until this moment, had grown so broad... Whatever— 
"Please don't make a fuss over this, 'Toru," You murmur, squeezing his arm lightly, "First off, the higher-ups will scold you terribly: They are hell-bent on making you go away from your home to under their shadows as soon as possible— And second–"
You lift his chin to make him look you in the eye. Azure pools of power, prestige and now upset, blinking back at you, bare and free of any and all covering.
"They'll give me hell because I told you this: I am not supposed to tell you this— something to do with shocking you then kidnapping you away while you're numb from the shock, I guess..." You trail off for a bit, before chuckling, "Those old geezers are so dumb, right?"
Gojo returns a weak nod and an even weaker "Heh!"— And you think, this is it.
This. Is. It.
Your last conversation with your best friend in the foreseeable future... Or probably ever.
That happened in the dirty narrow alleyway behind a mill-of-the-run coffee shop.
Where neither of you laughed. Or joked. Or did anything, anything remotely happy...
You don't really think– not even once– before you wrap your arms round Gojo's waist and push your face into his arm. It takes less than a beat for the boy to shift his body, and you, so that you're no longer trapping him in a weird sideways hug, rather hugging him properly. His fingers comb through your hair: so firm, so sure. Much like the suggestion reaching you next.
"Why don't we both run away to Paris, candy? We can escape from all this mess then."
"Wha–" You exclaim, incredulity seeping into your huffed chortle as you pull away. [It doesn't sound bad, a tiny voice in your brain whispers. Not bad at all– You strangle that stupid voice...] Hope shines in Gojo's eyes as he peers down at you. You force your lips down into a flat line.
"You're not Romeo, 'Toru; and sure, I'm pretty but I don't wanna end up dead like Juliet." You say, patting his cheeks, letting your tone grow a tad soft on receiving a pout. "You really need to stop watching romance movies, y'know... That teeny-tiny brain inside your huge skull is rotting– I can get the stench even– Ow, you ass!"
Gojo's lips quirk up slightly when you shove him back– but it's gone before it can form fully.
He shifts even closer to you, nearly engulfing your figure in the chill of his bigger frame. "Not every love story has to end that way, candy."
"Ours is not even a love story to begin with, Satoru," You scoff, noticing yet opting to ignore the sudden tensing of his posture, "And considering we do run away to Paris, like you suggested— What then, hm? Where will we stay? What will we eat? From where the hell are we going to get the money we need? Most importantly, how long will we keep running, Satoru?"
Screwing your eyes shut, you inhale then exhale, just the way your mom taught you to do when your emotions seem to be getting a bit out of hand— Opening your eyes, you find Gojo staring at you... rather weirdly.
You let your eyes fall to the fading colors of your shoes.
Resuming as you do, "What I'm trying to say is: we're teenagers, 'Toru. Whatever plan we make is bound to be stupid– more like, doomed to be stupid. Let's just go with the flow now. When we are older, we will be much smarter, stronger, scarier: We can do whatever we want then, and no one will dare to stop us. We can even run away to Paris, if that's what you want— Yeah?"
Looking back up, you find the boy's features not too far from that weird state... Until they are, and you feel as if you're staring straight at the sun. Or maybe that's just his cursed energy flaring up... Ugh, why is he such a powerhouse–
Grinning widely, Gojo clasps your hands in his. "Wanna do a Binding Vow, sweetness?"
No. Hell no. Never ever— 
You know you must refuse. You must shut him up before his foolish tendencies take him way too far— take you with him way too far. Still, you do very little to quieten that pleased hum in your mind, when you register just how much he wishes to stay associated with you...
"A pinky promise sounds cuter, right?" You suggest with a smile– One that grows wider when you receive an eager nod in answer. You, however, curl your hand into a fist when he moves to lock his little finger with yours.
Grinning when he dissolves into whining, "Heyyy... what's the problem now, candy?"
"There isn't any problem, 'Toru. Just few conditions," You correct with a cheeky lilt to your tone, "Like, we ought to text each other minimum once a day, call each other minimum once a week, meet each other minimum once a month– And, last but not the least," You drop your volume to a value so low that only the two of you can hear.
"We must not forget each other, no matter what."
Gojo's frown melts away into something graver— before his beam's back in every bit of its glory.
You watch as he slowly pries your fist open, intertwining his little finger with yours and saying, "I agree. Pinky promise to do whatever you said, sweetness."
"I too pinky promise to do everything you said, 'Toru," You don't waste a beat in echoing his dedication in your words. The boy's grin grows bigger, reminding you yet again of the midday sun– Not the scorching one in summer, though! His resembles the gentle one of winters... 
A sudden beep! from your phone jolts you out of your thoughts– And you jolt Gojo out of his seat next to you, scowling playfully as you do.
"Now off you go, my sucrose-loving fiend-for-a-friend," You rise as well, pushing him towards the back door to the kitchen, "Go, give your orders and get us a nice table; preferably, one closest to the AC. I'll finish my chores here and join you in a bit."
"Promise?" The boy asks with a pensive pout, just outside the building. You reach up to flick him– kind of– on the forehead, laughing fondly. "Yeah, you idiot. Now, go! I'm getting late!"
"Geez... okay, okay," Gojo exclaims back, laughing. And with that, plus a last-moment ruffling of your hair by him, he walks back into the shop. Leaving you to the quiet of your mind, the latter now much lighter, after your much-needed [yet much-avoided] conversation with him—
Too bad, you were never meant to relish the sound of silence.
No sooner do you step one foot towards the garbage bins than you feel the world before you tilt by a few degrees, for longer than a few measly seconds— Until everything is right again.
Or maybe nothing is... Nothing will ever quite be...
Not when you find yourself on a fine Wednesday morning, face-to-face with your carbon-copy— Except she isn't really so: She seems much older, much thinner, much sadder than the girl you saw in your mirror today...
It isn't really your fault, you think, when you end up blurting out, "Oh my God... So, I'm not my parents' only daugher, am I?"
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loserboy x girlboss → got to be my fave dynamic of all time [bonus points if both r somewht weird & stupid 😂😂]
header from pinterest; dividers by @benkeibear; jjk isn't mine
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javarium · 15 days
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I'm curious. Reblog this if you know how to cook
I don’t even care if it’s macaroni, ramen or those little bowls you stick in the microwave. Please, I need reassurance that most of the population on tumblr WOULDN’T STARVE TO DEATH if their parents couldn’t fix them food or they couldn’t go out to eat. 
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javarium · 15 days
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No thoughts, just Gojo 💙
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javarium · 17 days
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THIS SPECIFIC PARAGRAPH ✨SENT ME✨
Fics that contain these kinda words are my JUICE, MY LIFEBLOOD BABY 🤤🤤
'til our fingers decompose, keep my hand in yours
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then her eyes look at me, love breaks my bones and I laugh
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gojo satoru x wife!reader; 18+ content so mdni; mostly tooth-rotting domestic fluff w mild smut; baby-making stuff [it's breeding, y'all- but not written in a very spicy way... i'm too shy; wht's my fault in tht]; satoru & you're a bit too much in love w each other; not toxic tho... js a teeny-tiny amt too much– haha; satoru calls you cookie and minx; too many kisses written to count [and 1 mention of the words 'cum' and 'cunt' each– i said right, i'm too shy :))]; loserboy loverboy 'toru; tw: talks on conceiving; 2.6k wc
the fic title and summary don't rly hv a very strong connection to the fic plot— except the fact they fit satoru's character here to a tee ^_^
belongs to the series 'you make my heart flutter and fibrillate' but can be read as a stand-alone fic if you wanna
fic title from everywhere, everything by noah kahan // fic summary from a poem by charles bukowski // header frm pinterest // divider by @/benkeibear // jjk isn't mine
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Gojo Satoru is in love with you. Entirely, utterly, whole-heartedly—
Simply put, the man adores you.
Reveres you even; your existence in both this world and his: one that has morphed to fit the shape and size of your form, your smiles, your frowns– Your husband believes he cannot be any more enchanted by you, any more ensnared by you than he already is...
Only to be proven wrong when you ask something of him.
The sweet croon of the music seems to dissipate away, as well as the quiet murmurs of the crowds, when Gojo sees you lift your head from where it lay on his chest. Eyes briefly flicking to where you both are in a gentle sway on the dance floor, amongst other couples; before they return to the shades on his face.
Growing an endearing quality of coyness as you gaze at him, features becoming suffused with warmth and hues before you repeat your ask to him; voice softening, trembling. Even more this time.
"'Toru," you say, fingers flexing from where they are looped around his neck, around his existence. Your smile is shaky, right at the corners of your mouth, before you take a deep breath to force them to stabilise– somehow, your husband realises.
He watches you draw in yet another deep breath, and ask, "You'll give me anything I want from you... won't you?"
He will.
Of course, he will.
Ask him to pluck the waxing gibbous from the night sky, to make you a pretty little pendant out of it— he will.
Ask him to burn this city to the ground, just so you've enough ash for your innumerable pots of cacti— he will.
Ask him to do anything and everything: whatever your heart desires– be it for a moment or for years— Gojo will do it for you, no matter the consequences he must face for it— for what bears any consequence to the sorcerer's life, if not your happiness and well-being??
He drags a hand from where it rested on your lower back, up the side, to your cheek, gently cupping the soft flesh there. Letting loose a tiny smile, fond, unguarded, true, when you lean into his touch.
"Ask away, cookie. Tell your 'Toru what you want."
"I..." you start. Voice soft and timid. Gaze darting away a second time, this time to the slowing pace of your and your husband's dance steps on the floor...
Before you raise your eyes, a mesmerising flurry of many feelings, to his concealed ones.
And Gojo swears, there's surely something different in you, making something different in him as well, when you look at him that way–
"I want to have your babies, 'Toru."
The first response you words elicit in him is a static— Noisy. Buzzing. Something that renders him dumb. Deaf and blind to everything and everyone except his wife, for a moment perhaps a tad too long...
The second response is him, very obviously, nearly dragging you off the dance floor, and having offered a bullshit explanation for leaving early to the party host, pulling you out into the toasty summer night.
Gojo teleports before the doors to the hall have been closed behind you both, not even for three whole seconds.
And bends down to smash his lips onto yours, the instant the familiar comforting feel of your home settles on his shoulders... seeps into his body, immediately setting him at ease... yet not at all at ease...
Especially because of these stupid fucking cockblocking trousers—
A loud pop! sounds through the living room, bouncing off its walls.
Soon followed by a mishmash of an aggrieved whine and an annoyed grunt from your husband, at the loss of contact with one of your best physical features to him—
it all melts away though when Gojo opens his eyes to find you looking at him with a slight sheen in your big round eyes and the tremor from before in your lips.
You push him away gently by the pads of your fingers— but the effort lasts only for a beat. Teeth biting down onto your lower lip, your small fingers let only a brief moment pass before twisting into the fabric of his coat, pulling him closer. Almost as if they're scared he might turn into smoke, if their hold is loosened even a pinch.
Gojo thinks you sound terribly puny when you finally break the thick silence layering over the entire flat–
Much too puny than he would like to hear his precious little wife be.
"Do you really want kids with me, 'Toru? You're not doing this just for me– just 'cause I want a family with you— you aren't, are you?"
"Do you..." Gojo starts then pauses for a bit to curb the chuckle nearly spilling forth his mouth, before resuming. The amusement in his tone can be reduced only so much, though— despite, or maybe due to the worry marking your pretty features.
Very unnecessary worry marking your very, very pretty features.
"Do you really think I'm that selfless– that good-hearted– cookie?"
Your brows furrow for a beat— before flattening in a look of complete sincere honesty. "You always think of me before yourself, 'Toru– don't want to pressurise you into doing anything you don't want to, is all."
"Oh, is it so?" he hums, mouth curving into a leisurely grin as he trails his fingertips from where they're entangled in your hair, dancing over the side of your neck until they reach the base of your throat– A faint pressure on the flesh there.
The ensuing hitch in your breath makes his grin sharpen, his trousers tighten. He lets his voice fall to an unhurried husk of a whisper.
"So you think I don't wanna have a family with you, hm?"
"Ah, it's not that," Gojo notes you waste not one moment to breathe back. He pulls you flush to himself by the other hand clutching your lower back, fingers digging in when you stutter, "I-I was j-just–"
"What will you do if I say I don't want kids, cookie?" He interrupts, still maintaining the low cadence of his tone.
Your fingers let go of his coat, soon followed by the re-emergence of that damn shaky smile of yours. Your husband doesn't like it one bit, but says nothing to hear your answer instead...
Albeit he knows what it will be, knowing just how much of a fool you never fail to turn into when it comes to matters involving him– a fact he usually loves about you, his pride and ego adore about you; but in this specific moment... Not so much.
Your soft mumble disrupts his internal groan, "I will never bring this topic up ever again in that case, Satoru. I promise you, I won't."
"And what if I say I wanna knock you up nice and good?"
You'll short circuit, is what Gojo predicts before the last word is even out of his mouth— and he's proven right, amazingly so, in less than a beat, when you do:
Eyes enlarging. Cheeks warming. Mouth opening and closing: once, twice then thrice... As if you're an adorable fish gasping for air in the onslaught of his simple [yet cruel– he knows you deem him so right now– how can you be so cute...] inquiry.
Deciding to grant his poor wife some much-needed mercy, the man bends down to whisper into your ear, lightly grazing the earlobe with his teeth, "If saying it out loud is too much, why don't you show your 'Toru instead what you will do, hm? I'm sure that will be easier."
"I..." you hesitate, the word still a wisp of your breath, until your hands return to the front of his coat. And you lean back a smidgen, features lighting up as you ask. Slowly. Carefully. Hopefully.
A knot, your husband never knew existed, loosens in the middle of his chest at the sight of your strengthening smile.
"Can I take this as your 'yes' then?"
"You can."
And that's the only reply Gojo finds he has to give to have your lips on his... Not too soft yet so very tender in the way they move against his own... Almost as if you're scared of hurting him... Terrified of causing even a pinch of pain to him.
Something between a moan and a squeak rips itself from your throat when the sorcerer bullies his tongue into the warm welcoming space of your mouth, simultaneously hooking his arms under your thighs to lift you. Mouths never leaving each other, not even for one second, as he kicks his shoes off, hearing you do the same, heels hitting the floor with a sharp clack!— And he finally, fucking finally, takes a step into–
"Bedroom, 'Toru!" Pulling away, you exclaim hastily, breathlessly, "Not the sofa or the kitchen counter this time, please."
"Too demanding, aren't we?" Gojo coos, licking his lips then stealing a small taste of the angry swollen redness of your pretty lips– Choosing to concede when you pout up at him, "Alright, fine— Can't really deny my amazing wife anything, can I?"
"No!" You giggle back cheekily—
And you're correct.
Extremely correct, your husband reckons, smiling softly as he moves out of you; out of the embrace of your wet, warm, maddening walls— A sharp hiss escapes through between his teeth, brows scrunching in momentary discomfort whilst he faintly registers your weak whimper.
Wasting no time to scoop back the load of creamy white cum leaking out your sore cunt, Gojo lifts your hips to keep a pillow beneath them. And stuffs his fingers into his mouth— exaggeratedly moaning with a smirk when he catches your cute little face of mortification.
"You're horrible," you mutter visibly exasperated, what with that huge roll of eyes you do when the sorcerer groans out yet again around his fingers in appreciation, shifting to lie beside you.
He removes his fingers with a loud pop!. Grinning like a Cheshire Cat when your eyes stay on them a bit too long for someone who sees it as horrible... Before they skitter away to reach his face.
He wraps an arm round you, dragging you closer until your boobs are squished against his pecs. A shiver of thrill runs down his spine at the wonderful– no, absolutely heavenly feeling.
"I'm in love, cookie," he offers besides a noisy lovestruck sigh in reply.
You, as usual, as expected, take only one or two moments before the not-too-annoyed scowl on your face gives way to a tender smile.
Wrapping an arm around him in return, you nuzzle your nose into the crook of his neck. He feels your lips on his skin more than hears your words they shape. Whispered into the comfortable darkness of your shared bedroom.
"Love is a force to be reckoned with, huh?"
Just love? Maybe... Maybe not... Truth be told, Gojo has no idea. And he has never been too keen on forming an idea either.
But your love?
It surely is, your husband muses to himself with no small amounts of delight or adoration, It did change the trajectory of his life, did it not?
He is supposed to be by himself— The Strongest, yes, but one with a solitary existence. He is supposed to be in this bed, awake and quiet, staring up at the ceiling whilst his senses easily fall prey to the heavy weights of his past, his mistakes, his unpardonable sins— vanishing long after the first rays of the sun have broken through the curtains...
Yet... with the love you've so obstinately kept safe for him throughout the years... here he is now.
Still awake– a bit restless, in fact– but the farthest from being alone.
The love of his life, safe, sated and smiling in his careful hold. Whilst his senses tingle in smug joy and content as his eyes, all six of them, rove over the innumerable proofs of his insatiable hunger, boundless ardour for you.
Starting from your kiss-bitten lips; to the multiple splotches of purple dotting the expanse of your neck, your chest, your stomach, down to the delectable inner aspect of your thighs; to the angry red nip marks left nearly all over your body, wherever he could get access, wherever you wouldn't gently push his mouth away from with a whine—
To, of course, your belly: Flat now but won't remain so for a long time. Becoming swollen and round with your babies– his babies– A perfect mixture of you and him. A perfect result of your mutual feelings...
An impossibly anxious gasp disturbs his smooth stream of thoughts, as well as the steady downwards flow of his blood...
He looks down to find you wrenching yourself away from his arms to get hold of the long-forgotten pillow— Ah. It's the pillow.
"It's too easy to get you worried over the smallest of things, y'know?" Gojo tuts, still moves to help you stuff the pillow to elevate your hips on noticing your wince on shifting.
You throw him a cross glare, which soon changes into an upset pout.
"Shut up, Satoru. This is not a small thing, this is a huge thing! What will happen if my chances of conceiving fall because of this mistake, 'Toru?" you suddenly erupt into an anguished screech.
Gojo feels his heart threatening to burst at the seams, just from how utterly cute you look. He knocks his forehead lightly against yours.
"Wanna go for another round, cookie?"
"Huh!?!?" you exclaim, eyes growing round and cheeks flaring up yet once more— Your husband intervenes however, before you return to your struggling-to-breathe-fish form, "Don't be so embarrassed, you little minx; you were spouting all sorts of debauched stuff some time back–"
He pauses for a beat, thinking if he should quote everything you said. Then deciding against it, so as to not have you short circuit yet again, repeats, amusement lacing his tone, "Tell me, do you wanna?"
"I'm not a minx," you mumble back.
And the sorcerer almost believes you, mind being swayed by the light glimmer in your gorgeous eyes, the plush flesh of your lower lip jutted out just the right amount, the enticing manner your eyelashes appear to be batting themselves at him in the faint moonlight streaming into the room via the light curtains...
Only for the slowly, steadily enveloping bubble to be popped.
By the feel of something soft and warm– your foot– travelling up the skin of his calf; the same moment he watches your fingers trail over his chest and the planes of his stomach. Tongue peeking out for less than an instant when your gaze drops to his fingers– the very fingers he was sucking on not even five minutes back—
Pushing the pillow away, Gojo climbs back atop you. A knee wedged to part your thighs while he bends down, face angled to swallow that endearing surprised squeak of yours with his insistent, impatient lips.
You were right.
Love is, for real, a force to be reckoned with.
But Gojo Satoru— No, his cookie's 'Toru in love with her– And now, in love with the idea of having a huge happy family with her as well...
That's a force only you know how to put a leash on.
[Not that you will ever—
You're as hopeless a goner for him as he is for you!]
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hope this was an enjoyable read! pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this ❤️❤️
masterlist
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javarium · 17 days
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Been thinking about adding Invincible to my list of what I’ll write for. Anyone interested??
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