#intrinsic warmth

[thatdesklamp]

Spring, 2007

more intrinsic warmth + gojo pov. This one is a little more salacious. I feel like a heathen. (nsfw, if that wasn’t evident) La la la la la

Satoru was seventeen when he first dreamt of you.

It was a weird dream, which he decided later was because of the heat: it was a spring heatwave, a sweltering April night, the air thick and sticky. Satoru liked the spring usually, as the school year slid to an end, leaving him with with all the freedom and the long days and the excuses for laziness. But when it was hot, it was too hot; especially since, like you always told him, his body ran far too warm. He was great in the winter, when he never needed more than one layer whilst you were bundling up with three, but in any extreme heat he was useless.

He had stripped off in bed, thrown the blankets down to bundle at his ankles, but his bare back still stuck to the bedsheet. When he rolled over onto his stomach, the sheet was damp with his sweat. Suguru had told him to lie on the floor without the mattress, but Satoru thought that was something he only said because he’d never slept right in his life. Satoru was raised with absolute care, and he was also raised with air conditioning. He wasn’t going to sleep on the floor, whatever Suguru said. Satoru had standards.

That was why it didn’t count. When he had the weird dream, it didn’t count, because his room was so hot and he was feeling so tired and he wasn’t himself.

 

---

 

In the dream, Satoru was sat in the Chapel, his back propped up against the wall he would lean against when he used to play Pokémon. He was playing Pokémon on his Game Boy Colour—which should have been his first indication that this was a dream, because he hadn’t played on that old thing since he was an actual child—and he was moving his character through Blackthorn City. The Chapel looked like it had when you were younger and still went there every day; nowadays, now you two weren’t so childish, you went there less and less. He played the game for a few minutes, and then he realised that there was a weight on his shoulder, and he stopped. Satoru looked down, and there you were.

You had your head on his shoulder. Looking back, Satoru would note this as the second weird thing, in the long list of very weird things. The third weird thing was that, in the dream, Satoru didn’t think that this was weird at all.

He didn’t think about how, in real life, you wouldn’t want to touch anyone, or put your head on anyone’s shoulder. He also didn’t think about how, in real life, you also wouldn’t want to touch him. Not the way you were touching him in the dream, at least.

In the dream, Satoru smiled. He noticed that his arm was already around you, and that he could splay his fingers around your waist if he wanted to. You felt warm, and in the dream, the feeling was familiar. He entertained himself with that for a few seconds, and then moved his hand up, skirting higher than your waist, around your ribs.

Then, curious, he moved his hand back down to feel the curve of your side, and then further down, down to your hips. You felt different, he noted, to the way his own body felt. He knew that was because you weren’t him—you were a girl, or a woman, which he’d only really noticed a few years ago. When you were both kids, your respective genders hadn’t been a thought at all. But then you both got older, and he became aware of it, and now it was something he had to think about. And Satoru was aware of it, now. He had that thought in the dream, and later, he would realise what it had meant, because he’d thought the same in real life, too.

But it was nice, to feel. He liked touching you.

Your head moved on his shoulder. Satoru would remember this as a pivotal moment, not just in what happened, but how he had felt with your head resting on his shoulder. He had not felt guilty, then; not the way he later felt, when he woke, panting and sweaty and achingly hot. It had been normal, in the dream, for him to be touching you like that.

So, he hadn’t stopped. Satoru’s hand stayed lazily at your hip as you stirred. Then, he realised that you weren’t asleep at all: in fact, you were just as awake as he was, and you were watching his hand move on your body with a smile playing around your lips.

You looked up at him, eyes glinting. It was a smile he recognised: Satoru knew all of your smiles, each and every one. This was one of his favourites, and one of the rarest. You looked mischievous, slightly sly, and the expression sent heat coursing through him in a way that was both familiar and new.

“You could’ve just asked,” you said. You shifted from his side, and Satoru opened his mouth to protest. You clicked your tongue and placed one gloved finger against his lips. Satoru fell silent, and your lips curled up. There was anticipation, now: excitement. He knew what was coming, and he wanted it from you.

“Could I really?” Satoru asked, as he reached out to touch you again. His hands found your ass, and he grinned at you, tugging you closer.

You laughed at that, and he marvelled at how easily he could make you laugh, here. Satoru spent all of his days trying to make you laugh—it didn’t come easily, so he savoured each time like he’d never see it again.

But you just swatted him on the chest, playful, and he took the touch as encouragement. Satoru kept one hand on your ass—which he liked being able to touch, he realised, or he just knew, because in this dream he had clearly done this before—and moved the other to skirt the underside of your shirt. Your skin was burning hot, and so soft. He slipped his hand under your the fabric, and felt the dip of your back, how it arched under his touch, responsive, and then higher, to the material of your bra strap. Lace—

“Eager!” You laughed again—so easily! Satoru liked this, he definitely liked this—and gave him that cunning, knowing look again. And then you had swung one leg over his, and you were sitting in his lap, hard and directly on top of him. Satoru inhaled, sharp and surprised and aroused. Your hands had moved to his shoulders, resting there, steadying yourself. You let out a soft noise, like you had surprised yourself, but that blazing look was still in your eye, and Satoru was staring.

He could feel you: the insides of your thighs were pressing against him, and his pulse was starting to quicken. You shifted your weight, moving to the side just the smallest amount, but the movement was enough to make Satoru hiss.

“Did I do something?” you asked, eyes going wide. Your eyelashes looked long, and they fanned across your cheeks.

You knew what the answer was, and Satoru knew that you did. You moved again, this time deliberately grinding down on him, and Satoru tilted his head back against the Chapel wall and focused on breathing.

You knew what you were doing to him: it was another one of those moments you had, when he could read exactly what you were thinking, and when you could do the same for him. It usually made him nervous, that you could tell so much about what he was thinking without him even knowing it, but here he was just exhilarated.

“Hebi,” Satoru said, his voice half-choked. He heard what he said, and frowned—later, he would understand that he was on the cusp of breaking from the dream, and that saying your name had almost pushed him over the edge—but then, when your thumb moved to brush his bottom lip, he shook off any reservations.

You hummed, and dipped your head down to his neck. Your lips pressed there, burning hot, and Satoru groaned. He felt your tongue, how you kissed and licked up his throat, and he gripped tighter onto you. You moved your hips against him, and pleasure was growing there, exactly where he could feel you, where he wanted to feel you.

“Hebi,” he said again. This time, his voice was whispered, like a plea. “Hebi. Hebi.”

“I’m here,” you said back, your breath hot against his lips. “I’m right here, Satoru.”

A ragged moan was torn from his chest. His name. He loved it when you said his name—he loved it now, as he watched your lips move around it, the way your lips pursed at the end, like a kiss.

Like you knew what he was thinking, you said it again.  

“Satoru. Satoru, touch me, Satoru.”

He wanted to: you wanted him to. He explored your bare skin, hand still underneath your shirt—that was his shirt, he realised. You were wearing his shirt! It was a t-shirt that fit normally on him, but it was too big for you, and it fell to just skim the tops of your thighs.

He loved it, the sight of you, of you on top of him, your lips round and soft, you wearing his shirt that was far too big for you. He wanted to take it off, but he also wanted to keep it like this: Satoru liked you wearing his clothes. He realised it in the moment, but of course he did! In the dream, you wore his clothes all the time.

Of course! The first time had been a few months ago: you had arrived at his house in the middle of the night, fresh from an incident with your family that you refused to go into detail about, and you had been blinking back tears when you had asked him if you could stay the night. You hadn’t had to ask: Satoru would have never turned you away, not ever. But Yahaba had been washing the pyjamas he kept at his house, and so you’d shrugged and walked into his room, so carefree, and picked out a t-shirt of his that had looked the biggest.

“I’ll wear this,” you had said, casual. Satoru hadn’t known what to say. He was too consumed with this new, fresh idea of you wearing his clothes, and what you would look like in them, and whether you would do it more, and he had just about managed to crack a smile and make some joke, passing it off like it was nothing.

Now, though, it wasn’t nothing. The shirt was large, and it hung low about the neckline, exposing your collarbone and the shadow of your breasts. You moved your hips down against him, this time even harder. Satoru’s fingers fisted in the bottom of the shirt, tugging you towards him.

The friction was good, and Satoru was certain that it was only made better that he got to feel you moving against him. He realised with a wave of arousal that your legs were bare, and that other than his clothes, the only thing separating your bodies was the thin strip of your underwear. And that you were doing this to him and that you wanted this, that this was good for you, too. Satoru wanted that desperately, and recognising it was staggering; Satoru wanted you to feel good, and he wanted to be the one to make you feel good.

He gripped your thighs, hard, and then almost lost control completely when you moaned against his neck. Your head dropped down to his shoulder, and he could feel your hot gasps right near his ear. It hit him that you were trying to say his name, just choked-off syllables, like the only thing you could think of was his name—his first name, Satoru. Encouraged, he pulled you down against him, controlling the movement of your hips, and both of you gasped together.

Closer, Satoru wanted. He wanted more, more of you. He felt your bra strap again and he undid it with one hand expertly, which of course he knew how to do, even though he had never been able to do that before.

The snap of your bra against your skin made you gasp, high and breathy. Satoru sucked in a breath. There was another noise he wanted to hear again: your laugh, and this. He moved his hand from your back, to the front of you, where he really wanted to touch now. When his fingers brushed your breasts, your eyes fluttered closed.

“Satoru,” you were saying, with every roll of your hips, with every rise and fall of your chest. He felt you breathing, he felt it as you shook against him when his thumb rubbed over your burning skin. “Satoru. Satoru, please… please, touch me more.”

“You want me to?” His voice was ragged: you had made his voice ragged.

“Please. Please, Satoru, it feels good, you make me feel so good—“

Satoru bit down on his lip, hard. You never spoke like this—he didn’t know that he wanted you to speak like this, but he was hard against you, painfully hard. It would have been embarrassing, but Satoru couldn’t feel that, could only focus on how much he wanted you to say that again.

Satoru spoke in a rasp, his head spinning. “I do?”

“So good.” Your hands were on his shoulders, his neck, his jaw, his chest, touching him everywhere. Every movement of your hand left searing impressions in its wake, and Satoru wanted you branded onto him.

“You—” Satoru shuddered, visceral, as he felt your hands tug at his shirt, try to pull it up. “You feel good too—“

Now he wanted your shirt off. He wanted to see, not just touch, and he wanted to put his mouth on you, the way your mouth was on him. He wanted to make you gasp like that again, and he wanted to feel you underneath him, and he wanted you, he wanted you to touch him, touch him harder, harder, harder until—

 

 

--

 

Satoru awoke, gasping.

His mattress cover was damp again, and when he looked down he realised it was uncomfortable and sticky. Satoru grimaced, and wiped his palms on the sheet. He stared up at the ceiling, and tried to will his heart to stop racing.

Satoru had had dreams like that before, obviously. But, shit, he’d never had them about you before. He had never dreamed about you so vividly, with his subconscious piecing so many half-moments together to make… whatever the hell that was.

Like the time you had borrowed his t-shirt a few months ago, or the time when you had fallen asleep on a pillow beside him and he had wondered what he could do to make you rest your head on his shoulder instead, or all those times you had called him by his first name.

He breathed in, but the air didn’t seem good enough. It was hot, and too humid, and Satoru decided that there wasn’t enough oxygen, what with all of that water floating about.

Yes: it was the heat. Besides, Satoru had heard stories of people going crazy when they got heatstroke, or whatever. It was probably something like that. It didn’t mean anything. Maybe it was just an unconscious side of his brain realising that he’d been spending so much of his time with a really, really pretty girl, and it had only just caught up to deliver the normal, maybe-weird reactions to it.

And it wasn’t as if he hadn’t considered you like that before—sure he had, kind of. Satoru was convinced that he’d be weirder to not have. You were his best friend, and he spent all of his time with you; there was one time before your big fight, and he’d not really known what to make of it, and then after, when it was like he hadn’t seen you in months, when he asked you to be his friend again. It was raining, that night, and he must have woken you up, because you were in your soft cotton pyjamas, and the shorts had ridden up on your thighs, and you hadn’t been wearing a bra, and of course Satoru had noticed. He was a guy. It didn’t mean anything, he’d known, but he also hadn’t told Suguru about it. Satoru didn’t know why he hadn’t. Something itched at him, uncomfortable.

But it hasn’t meant anything! Just how it didn’t mean anything now.

It was just the heat. It didn’t matter about anything else: he’d had a weird dream, but it wasn’t like he needed to tell you about it. You wouldn’t be able to guess, would you?

Guiltily, an image flickered across Satoru’s mind before he could stop it: the sight of you above him, your bare legs hardly covered by the long t-shirt, the purse of your lips as you said his name. Satoru pushed it away. What was he doing, thinking about you all weird like that?

This was the worst time for something like that to happen, too; it was almost a year since his and Suguru’s mission, and so it was almost a year since he had apologised, and since you had both been trying to be friends again. Friends.

Friends. It didn’t help, this. Satoru had thought you two were getting better, and even if it wasn’t exactly like it was before, it was close, really close. He wanted you in his life. He always had.

Satoru turned to the side, and then wrinkled his nose as he remembered that he needed to change his sheets.

He bunched them into a ball, and then chucked them into the laundry basket he kept in the corner of his room. He looked back at his mattress, and decided that, fuck it. Suguru was probably right. With a grunt, Satoru managed to pull it off the bedframe and onto the floor. Then, deciding that the heat wouldn’t win against him, he lay down on the mattress and tried to get to sleep.

1-1 to me, he thought, to the heat. Fresh slate. We can forget about everything, then.

 

--

 

 

You were knocking at his door.

“Hnrggh—“ Satoru blinked in the light, everything blinding and bright as it usually was. He patted on his bedside table for his glasses, then remembered he was lying on the floor. Satoru rolled out of bed and bumped his forehead on the floor, shoved his glasses onto his face, then rooted around the ground and pulled on some boxers. If it was Suguru, he’d be fine like this, because who cares? But it was you, he recognised the way you knock, and so he’d got to find a shirt—where was his shirt?—shit, last night. Shit.

Satoru stumbled to a halt. He couldn’t see you like this, after last night.

What if—and it wouldn’t be him, it would just be his body, which wouldn’t be him at all, just normal teenage instincts—he saw you and started remembering the dream? And if he remembered the dream, he’d get a hard-on way too fast, and then he’d be standing in front of you like that, and Satoru couldn’t deal with it. You were friends. That would be fucking weird, for friends to do.

Again, it was weird for friends to dream about having doing some strange dry-humping-slash-groping sex, but he had already rationalised that it was just the heat and normal teenage instincts, so that dream didn’t count.  

“Gojo,” you called. “Gojo! Wake up.”

Satoru, his brain supplied, unhelpfully.

“Ah—one second, Hebi-Hebi!”

He pulled on some jogging bottoms, threw on a scruffy shirt, and then, scrapped for time, used Blue to make the door fly open.

“Finally. You’re impossible to wake—”

“Good morning!” Satoru said, taking a theatrical bow. “Good morning, everyone!”

You stared at him, blankly. “What?”

“It’s my audience. I’m saying thank you and good morning.”

“You don’t have an audience.”

“Sure I do. I’ve got you, haven’t I?”

“Not for long.” You sent him a glower, and Satoru felt his stomach flip. “You forgot to give me those worksheets for class today.”

“Oh!” Satoru did, actually, forget. You’d wanted them in yesterday, but then he had been hanging out with Suguru in the evening when you went off to chat with Shoko, and by the time he’d gotten back it was too late to do anything. “Why didn’t you remind me, Hebi-Hebi?”

Your nose crinkled. Satoru had to admit that it was pretty cute, objectively.

“I did remind you,” you said. “All of yesterday. C’mon, Gojo, how are you so irresponsible?”

“I’m not! I’m the most responsible person you’ve ever met.”

“Don’t make me laugh.”

Would you? he thought, traitorously. Would you laugh for me, again?

You tutted, pretending to be unimpressed, and then you glanced down at the floor. You frowned. “Why isn’t your mattress on the bed?”

“It—was hot.” Satoru knew he blurted it out too quickly, and that you noticed, because you always did, with him.

There was a torturous moment of silence where Satoru was convinced you had figured it all out and that he was ruined and you would never want to speak to him ever again, but then you said: “I thought you had that superiority complex thing. You know. With Geto, and the mattresses.”

“You heard about that?”

You hummed. “You must’ve told me.”

Satoru didn’t think he had. He was too focused on inconspicuously wiping his hands on the backs of his jogging bottoms without you noticing.

You noticed. Your eyebrows furrowed, and then your gaze slipped from his hands, to his backwards shirt, then to the balled-up bedsheet by the wall, and finally landing on the half-empty bottle of hand lotion Satoru had bought a few months ago, because he kept thinking that his then-girlfriend didn’t want to hold his hand because the skin was so rough.

You looked back up at him, and Satoru was certain you could see the flicker of panic on his face. You groaned, loudly and in disgust, and covered your eyes with your gloved hands.

Satoru’s heart skipped with fear. No, he couldn’t ruin it with you, not when he’d barely even—

“Gojo!” You peered back at him through your fingers, and Satoru realised with a jolt that you weren’t disgusted, you were embarrassed. “Just tell me not to come in if you’re—oh, eugh!”

Satoru’s lips parted in confusion. What? And then—

Oh! Satoru felt a heavy weight slide right off his chest, and suddenly he was light as a bird! You just thought he was jerking off! Yes—what a win!

Satoru could deal with this. He could even turn this in his favour, the way he always was trying to with you.

He grinned at you and leaned forward, bending at the hips with his hands still behind him. “What, you embarrassed?”

Your lips pinched tight together. “Shut up.”

“It’s a normal bodily response, Hebi-Hebi,” he said, delighting at your growing mortification. “I’m seventeen! And, hey, it’s not just guys who would enjoy—”

“Oh my god—”

“—so you should we congratulating me!”

Satoru beamed at you, enjoying himself a lot now.

You glowered. “I hate you.”

“Self-pleasure—”

“Don’t call it that!”

“—isn’t something that—”

“Stop talking.”

“Stop interrupting me!” Satoru couldn’t help but laugh at your expression. “I’m trying to give you a biology lesson. Just because you’re a priss—”

“I’m not—”

“And I’m sure you’re no stranger to it! After all, I’m sure you’ve…” Satoru’s brain caught up to wnat he was saying, and his voice faltered, and then trailed off.

Your eyes widened. You looked away from him, folding your arms right across your chest.

Satoru felt just as out of place. Just as he’d said it, the actual image of what he was saying had forced itself into his head. You: you, touching yourself, gasping and moaning in that same way you had in your dream. Would you sound the same as your had in his imagination? What you would look like—Satoru had not seen you naked in his dream, but he had wanted to, there.

But he could imagine. Your soft thighs, clenching around your bare hand, buried between your legs, your fingers—your fingers inside you, moving inside yourself, or rubbing circles on your clit, and Satoru’d had a girlfriend a few months ago who had liked it when he watched her masturbate, and he remembered how it had felt to be in the room with her.

It had almost been painful how hard he’d been, how much he’d wanted to touch her and be able to make her come himself—and there was a flash, just a split-second image, of Satoru’s lips on yours and his fingers curling inside you and your neck bared for him instead, and making you come. He didn’t know what it would be like, and Satoru felt his curiosity like a hunger, something that ached to be sated. Satoru swallowed.

Touching yourself, what would you think of?

Who would you think of?

You cleared your throat. “Anyway.”

Yes! Anyway!

Satoru forced out a laugh. Anyway! He pushed all those thoughts from his head—just remnants of his dream, coming to haunt him, everything perfectly normal—and grinned at you, feeling slightly delirious. He noticed that you didn’t look all that right either; you were blinking in that way you did when you were nervous or off-guard, and you still weren’t making eye contact with him. You didn’t know, did you? Was he—Satoru tried to subtly glance down—no, he was okay. You couldn’t know. Sure, you could figure out pretty much anything about him most of the time, but you weren’t a literal mind reader. You were just embarrassed for… whatever reason. Satoru didn’t know.

But he was moving on! He wasn’t thinking about it.

The silence stretched. Satoru felt awkward—he never used to feel awkward around you, but you’re still learning each other after your fight, and it’s harder than it was before.

“We good?” he asked, in a way that he realised a second later was much too vulnerable for his liking. He fixed it with a wink, and a casual stretch of his back.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. You cleared your throat again, and then nodded. “Yeah. Anyway.”

“The worksheets!” Satoru clicked his fingers in the air and hurried over to his desk. He rifled through the mess of papers, humming loudly and on purpose, and then shouted out: “Ha-ha! I’m amazing—here, look, I printed it out.”

“Good,” you said, tucking some hair behind your ear. “Hopefully Yaga won’t kill me in first period.”

“I’d have defended you from him.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome! I appreciate the appreciation, Hebi-Hebi. Being this kind and generous is a thankless job sometimes.”

“Oh, you’re such an idiot.”

But your lips were curling, and Satoru was floating on the air again, overjoyed that the awkwardness had fallen away. Success! A perfect deflection, and he’d coaxed the first half-smile of the morning from you.

Satoru laughed. And then you were just looking up at him, with that standard way you do, slightly heavy-lidded and bored, and it felt like a normal day again. It didn’t feel like anything had changed: even though it had, for him. It had changed. But between you two… it was just normal.

He hoped you couldn’t do your psychic magic trick on him, and figure out that he was feeling awkward. But why should he? After all, he was Satoru Gojo: it was him, now, him and Suguru. Both of them together, the world’s strongest. He didn’t need to feel awkward about anything! And especially not something that could be so easily explained, by the heat and by his normal teenage reactions to normal teenage stuff.

So, nothing had changed. Satoru’s face broke into a grin. That was good. You were just as close as you always were. No stress. He should just forget about it.

 

--

 

And he did.

And then it happened again.

#intrinsic warmth #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo smut #ikr #who am I #gojo fluff #everyone say thank you drunk maggie #she was a different girl to me I’ll tell you

[peachygf]

autumn!! it’s been a while since i dropped by!! just want to wish you a pleasant weekend filled with pretty flowers and warm bread (gluten free too if you prefer!!) 🌷🥐

i am also back with a sel question!! 🥹 what aspects of a fic do you enjoy the most (style, characterisation, flow, etc.)? and what qualities of suguru do you like seeing? 🥹

sel i am so so sorry for the late reply, but life happens, sometimes harder than i'm ready for. only really had the energy to scroll and reblog pretty pictures for a hot minute.

so far i have been consuming the fic intrinsic warmth at maybe a read (or two) a month? which is pretty insane considering it's bordering on 180k words already. but idc dude it's so good, maggie's writing/world & character building is on another level IMO for a self-insert fic. there's so much color and emotion in her chapters, i can't get enough of it! and her portrayal of satoru, jesus she's got him down pretty good, but that's just me everyone has an opinion on gojo. i'm going so feral i started going back and annotating it for a playlist i'm putting together for it. if anyone else likes intrinsic warmth, i would love to talk about it!!

if anyone hasn't read it yet, don't let the word count scare you! once you get started it's hard to stop, but beware if u are impatient. updates are irregular, but sooo worth it. maggie leaves no crumbs with each chapter drop, you can catch her on ao3 or here on tumblr <3

as for suguru...he's been on my mind, but i wouldn't say in a positive light lol. examining his character from what choices i would make in his shoes has soured it a bit but i'm finding my way back.

#intrinsic warmth #autumn shut up #sel <3 #(ill add emojis later) #jjk

[vaporseas]

I LITERALLY WANT TO KMS WHAT IS WITH THIS FUCKING STORY IM SO FUCKING AFFECTED I HATE THIS I HATE THIS I HATE THIS

#intrinsic warmth

[honeyinapot]

Like A Lazy Ocean Hugs The Shore

4.8k words without the hcs um??? enjoy?? Or don’t idk😭🙏🏾

Suguru and Shoko definitely know he’s head over heels for you. The only ones that don’t know are you and himself.

He’s an absolute brat (at least teen him is). He gets what he wants and becomes kind of a bully? No yeah he definitely bullies other guys flirting with you to back off. But that’s just him being a good friend you know? It’s not because he’s in love with you there’s no way.

He loves getting you riled up.

Something about you getting mad at him is so cute.

He loves making you laugh more though.

He isn’t sure why he wants you all to himself but he just does, because it’s him or no one.

When he realizes though he puts the work in to better himself.

He wants you to know it’s you and him forever. His love never ending never wavering, infinite if you will. He loves you for infinity.

The beach would always be your worst enemy.

Salty waters and inescapable sands where no matter however many times you rinsed, the more particles clung. An endless cycle to become dirty, and you hated getting dirty and soaked in a place other than your tub. Hated feeling gritty and never knowing what could swipe you off your feet. And he knew that.

Despite your protests, despite the moaning and groaning, despite the bickering, he still brought you here against your request. So, here he was without a consequence in the world walking on water smirking down at you while you scowled at the need to look up at him. Standing submerged in blue waters all you thought of was going home. The issue?

He was your ride home.

“Don’t look so smug Gojo, it makes you look ugly.”

Your comment only seemed to satisfy him more. His expression grew into a grin.

“You’re just mad you look like a wet rat and I don’t.”

In his own dumb way he was right. You were frustrated with the fact that salt water was ruining your hair running down your skin with its droplets dripping off your shoulders.

“You three blind bi— “

“Whoa, whoa let’s keep it PG for the kids.”

You’d never wanted to gut Gojo Satoru the “greatest sorcerer” alive so badly before.

Twenty minutes ago you’d been finishing a braid for your date later, you still had just enough time to put together an outfit you’d planned all week. Everything would be perfect, or so you thought. Before you had the chance to change out of your uniform there was a knock on your door. A sturdy rhythm meant only for you. You sighed making your way to the door slowly pulling at the handle. You tilted your head up blinking at a pair of sunglasses attached to a lanky teen.

“What Gojo?”

He leaned on your doorway grinning, pretty white strands swept across his eyes mixing with his lashes. He brushed back hair from his eyes with a singular hand.

“Let’s go to the beach!” His moist lips stretched into a toothy smile.

You raised an eyebrow blinking twice to take in the statement. You didn’t have time for this, you still hadn’t even decided if you liked the outfit you’d been thinking of. Rolling your eyes you began shutting your door.

“You didn’t need to come all the way here to tell me that. You have my number, text me.”

The door wouldn’t close, something had kept it from meeting the frame. You felt your eyebrow involuntarily twitch as you looked back at sunglasses.

“I was thinking a little more…spontaneous.”

“How spontaneous?”

“I dunno.” He tapped his chin with a comically large finger faking confusion. “What about now?”

Gojo looked over his glasses at you as if trying to tempt you to give in.

“Thanks, but no thanks. I have plans and once again you should’ve shot me a text.” You groan, annoyed, as you repeatedly try closing your door with Gojo now using his infinity. Watching this sparked the urge to stomp on his toes despite the fact that the act would be utterly useless.

“Hey hotshot, move your foot I’ve got places to be.”

He took a step forward then another and another painfully slow step. He was pushing you and your dorm door back with every step that his infinity followed. Thus making it easy to now be standing in the middle of your room. A messy room that he gave a once over with his hands in his pockets. Your ears burned with embarrassment imagining how your room must seem through his eyes. Clothing tossed across the bed and your floor, mostly unfolded laundry and the others articles of clothing you’d tossed aside through the week searching for your perfect outfit.

Why was it when you need something it isn’t there, but when you don’t it appears. The same thing happened with your highlighter— wait a minute what was that? You tried unsuspiciously stepping on the object and kicking it under your dresser. Clearing your throat you tried to pretend the both of you weren’t in your room.

“Why can’t you bother Suguru or Shoko?” You needed to do one thing at a time, your date was in forty minutes. The first order of business was to kick this fool out.

Gojo gave you a quick once over as though he’d pieced something together. The realization was over by the time he’d plopped himself onto your bed.

“They’re busy.” He whined not even bothering to move the clean folded clothes beneath him.

“And I’m not?” You crossed your arms with a frown leaning your weight to the right.

“You’re never too busy to not spare time for me.” There he was again grinning with his eyes over the glasses stare again. This time your eyes blew wide and your mouth fell slack.

Usually you were free, any other time you would say yes to hang out with your friends, but the guy you’d been crushing on for two years finally asked you out. The only person you told was Shoko, you didn’t like the idea of telling everyone about a relationship that might not even blossom. You wanted to tell people when you were sure and the only person you couldn’t hide it from was her. Being on the spot you weren’t sure what to say to him.

Actually, it wasn’t even any of his business.

“Why don’t you go help them instead?” You deflected.

“Hm, too much work.” Gojo lazily pushed off your bed, hands in his pockets as he approached you. You made the note to wash your sheets and clothes again if you didn’t want the smell of Gojo’s expensive cologne wafting around you.

You pinched the inside of your cheek with your teeth, biting back more than a few profanities. Now you understood why Shoko smoked.

“Then how about we go after my plans?”

“How about…no?” Gojo leaned in your space, his face inches from yours just to prove a point.

“I don’t even own a bathing suit!”

He nearly fell into you at the force of his laughter leaving him doubling over. Calming from whatever had been so funny he wiped a stray tear from his eye and opened them. Watching him inflate back to his full height you caught a glimpse of his eyes.

Bright and blue. Filled to the brim of you.

A sight so pretty you hadn’t noticed his hands reach out for you until he was pulling you against him.

“Gojo!”

“Why do you need a bathing suit?”

“You know how the school feels about our uniforms.” You scolded.

He just laughed it off.

“Why don’t we test ‘em out for a little swim?”

Despite your disapproval you were easily tossed over his shoulders much to your dismay.

“Gojo Satoru, don’t you dare, I told you I have—“

“What were you saying?”

Before you could even finish you were dangling over a body salt water. Oh how you hated this man.

“Oops.”

Your body splashed into the sea ruining your non waterproof makeup.

You spent the next twenty minutes fighting the waters resistance to chase around Gojo. Yelling curses telling him to take you back to Jujutsu High as you chased his laughing form further into the sea. Every step you took he took backwards with the use of Infinity. Your nostrils flared as tears pricked your eyes. So help you God you were going to break his Infinity and beat him senseless.

“This isn’t funny Gojo!” You coughed and sputtered on salt water.

“Aww, are you finally hitting your limit?”

“I hit my limit ages ago! Take me back—“ You charged forward not applying your full attention to your surroundings. The sand had dipped leaving you with nothing to keep your head afloat. You sucked in a sharp breath reaching out for help before falling under.

“Stop pretending, I’ve seen you swim before.” Gojo rolled his eyes convinced you were crying wolf.

“If you come up now I’ll take you right back to your dorm.” He teased this time with a grin, there was no way you’d keep faking after that. He waited a few seconds, a frown taking over his features. He was sure you knew how to swim, didn’t you? He remembered seeing you swim at the pool party they’d been to last year, he remembered thinking your swimsuit was hot. But that didn’t mean that you got into the water. He didn’t know how long you could hold your breath. Nor how long the average person could. How many seconds? How many seconds had it been? Gojo’s heart spiked in his chest as he called out for you. His infinity broke momentarily.

Something grasped his leg before he broke the stillness of the water that was no longer motionless.

Water dripped off your arms loudly as you used both arms to treat him like a lifesaver before breaking for air with a glare. Or rather a face full of determination. You grabbed at him pulling and climbing his dry uniform until you were no longer submerged. Your hands stopped at his collar as you stared down two big dark pools. Taking a hand you snatched off his sunglasses and tossed them, far.

Without them he was left staring at you with blown out eyes. To you he resembled a lighthouse being crashed into.

“Fuck. You.” You hissed, “Take me home.”

Gojo parted his lips to say something, anything. Instead he was reduced to shudders and barely a second later plummeting both of you into the dark blue sea.

Underneath the large parasol Shoko and you watched two idiots splash each other with water. They were dressed to the nines with gear; scuba slippers, inflatable ducky floaties, and ducky swim tubes, why? You weren’t sure, you both assumed it was for the aesthetic since the both of them could swim.

Resting on the palm of your hand you took in the view breathing in salty air and smell of the heat from the sun. You were content for now. You hadn’t been dropped in icy waters or dealt with too much sand clinging to you.

“Shoko?”

“Hm?” She bit down hard on the blueberry Tootsie Pop, she’d gotten tired of counting to get to the center.

“We didn’t bring floaties with us, right?” You tried thinking back to what everyone loaded into the car, which was the parasol, a picnic basket, blankets, and some fireworks. You thought the floaties may have been deflated, except you still should’ve noticed them.

“No, Gojo flirted with some mom to hand over the kid floats.”

“Huh…” You murmured to yourself more than Shoko as confirmation.

Pushing up from the comforts of the beach blanket you felt the sand settle between your toes. Ignoring the layer of grit built under your feet you approached the water yelling over splashing and laughter. Neither of them heard their names from your distance. You paved your way toward them dodging giggling children and families taking photos. Chills made their way up your spine as water passed your ankles.

With them running closer to you, you called out their names again. You assumed Gojo would look ahead at some point or maybe Suguru would warn him, that didn’t happen since they both were in their own little world.

Gojo crashed into you. Limbs tangled together with his arm around your waist keeping the both of you steady.

“You alright?” He huffed out, chest heaving from the run.

“I’m fine.” You said but you could barely tell you’d spoken. Seeing him soaking wet, water gliding down his body— you flinched back. A droplet of saltwater dripped into your eye. A stream of curses fell from your lips as you rubbed your eye.

“Shit, lemme see.” His arm tugged you closer while the other rested on your cheek thumb ready to wipe at your eye. “It’s fine, it’s fine.” You rubbed at it turning your head from his hand squinting. Eyes landing on something black, blue, and yellow charging forward.

“Suguru! Time out! Time out!” You held out a hand to stop him while Gojo turned to the disturbance. He slammed into Gojo, matching duck floats bouncing off another sending the three of you splashing into the water.

Gojo’s eyes were bare exposed over his sunglasses. Again all you saw was blue and you. Only you. Your lips parted to speak— Gojo’s sunglasses slipped hitting you on the chest.

Beside you Suguru snorted breaking whatever tension had risen. He broke into a full laugh as Gojo rolled off of you. Following his friend he laughed until the three of you were in sync.

Broken giggles passed your lips as the laughter died down. The three of you sat up. Instead of handing back his sunglasses you tucked them behind your ears letting them rest on your head.

“Tell me, who’s bright idea was it to borrow children’s floaties?”

Their giggles seized, both of them seemingly sharing a thought.

“Su—“

“Satoru’s!”

“Hey! No, it was our idea!” He didn’t have the chance to finish since you’d wrapped him in a head lock. He barely lasted before slapping at your arm choking out, “Uncle! Uncle!”

Releasing an arm you reached over to Suguru’s chuckling form to tug him into one. Both of them mirroring another struggling under your grasp.

After you’d gotten back to shore you went to Shoko who’d now been tanning as you toweled off. Next to you was your sling bag, opening it you gathered your sunscreen giving the bottle a few shakes before squeezing some in your hands. Warming the lotion in your hands for a few seconds then massaging it into your legs feeling around for excess sand.

“Shoko?”

She hummed you noticed another lollipop in her mouth, maybe cherry? You smoothed more sunscreen onto your stomach and arms.

“Could you put sunscreen on my back?”

She popped the lollipop out of her mouth, you were right, cherry.

“Yeah, you ready now?” She pushed herself off her towel heading toward you when you nodded. You brought Gojo’s sunglasses down to your eyes before handing Shoko the bottle.

“Want me to do you next, or are you still tanning?”

Laying on your stomach you kicked your legs, toes digging into the gritty sand.

“Almost done, you can share with me once I’ve done my back.” She’d popped the lollipop back into her mouth, you heard the candy hit her teeth. She shook the bottle a few times and snapped the top back. You rested your head on your folded arms closing your eyes behind stolen sunglasses.

Shoko tapped your back three times. “I’ll be right back, hold on.”

You hummed in agreement eyes still closed hearing Shoko yell out for Suguru. A warm breeze swept by wafting the strong smell of salt water and rippling through the multicolor blanket you laid on. She returned without a word shaking the bottle again and warming it in her hands. When she rubbed the lotion on your back you practically jumped out of your skin.

“Youre not—Gojo?” You’d jolted your head from its comfortable position staring over borrowed glasses at the imposter behind you.

“Where’s Shoko?”

His cheeks tinged red turning sunburnt you assumed as the color spread to his ears without meeting your gaze.

“She said something about wanting a cold drink, her and Suguru are running to the store.”

“Oh.” You laid your head back down. Gojo’s hands fidgeted before resting on your shoulder blades rubbing in the lotion.

“…Why..don’t you ever call me Satoru?”

You glanced back at him, focused on covering every bit of skin he saw.

“Are we close enough to do that?”

“Um, hello? I’m literally giving you a back rub free of charge, we’re more than close.”

“This doesn’t count you’re my servant, of course it’s free.” Your laughter was short lived when you felt Gojo snapping the strap of your bathing suit.

“Gojo!”

“Satoru!”

“Gojo!”

“Satoru! You’re not very good at picking up clues.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Are you calling me stupid?”

“Now you’re just putting words in my mouth,” He pouted feigning sadness, “will you at least say it?”

Pressing on your elbows you pushed up in a sphinx pose tilting your head back to see him over his glasses which were slipping off your nose.”

“Satoru.” You sounded the syllables out slowly saying the name alone felt foreign to you. He smiled, Satoru smiled. When he did his eyes did that thing you liked. Bright blue eyes reflecting back the sand, the parasol, the blanket and you. You blinked.

“Again.”

“Satoru.”

“Again! Again!”

“Satoru.”

“Again!” He laughed grabbing at the sunscreen bottle shaking the contents.

You wanted to tease him, how did Suguru usually say it? Your eyes fluttered close thinking back on Suguru’s voice. You mumbled to yourself.

“I can’t hear you~” He hit the bottom of the bottle and popped back the lid.

Clearing your throat and adding volume to your voice you repeated his name again with a slow purr. The same as Suguru does when scolding him sometimes.

A hard dry squeeze was heard with the feeling of an icy sensation on your back. You squealed kicking your legs back to sit on your bottom.

“Satoru!”

His glasses fell on your lap as you frowned at him. He avoided your gaze, fiddling with the bottle.

“Here.” You placed his sunglasses back on his face tucking his ears under the legs.

“Who would’ve known, the strongest is no match against some UV rays.”

“UV rays?” Satoru echoed his mind light years away, “I’m not sunburnt.”

“Maybe you don’t feel it now, but you will later.”

You tugged on his wrist pulling him closer.

“I’ve got more than enough room to share, get under while I salvage what little skin you have left to save.”

When Suguru and Shoko had returned Satoru had been reduced to a bright red lobster with you rubbing sunscreen on his back.

Satoru and you lazily walked back to your agreed checkpoint. The spot all four of you chose to be yours, the area beside the boardwalk. A memory of Satoru banging his head against the wooden beam made you giggle as you tipped back the bottle to your lips.

Satoru’s blue eyes peered over at you lingering lower before glancing forward again.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing…just…” You shook your head bringing the bottle back down to fiddle with. The sun burned your exposed back and sun clung to your toes.

“Remember when we first came here?”

Satoru’s arm bumped into yours, he twitched relaxing as he began tossing his can back and forth.

“Wasn’t that two years ago? Why are you thinking about that now?”

“Mmm, just thinking about how much of an idiot you are.” You paused, he bumped into you again. He could never walk straight no matter how big the sidewalk is.

“Well more of how big of a pain in the ass you are—“ You shove him away, “Is it impossible for you to not cling to me it’s too hot for this!”

He whined glueing himself and his cold can to your body while you tried shoving him off. Squeezed between him you unscrewed the top of your bottle raising it above his head.

“You’re being unfair! Don’t pour that on me!” He grabbed at your raised arm holding your wrist but you still tilted it anyway. Light pink juice trickled down his hair gliding under his sunglasses, he tried blinking away what had gotten in his eyes.

“That’s for two years ago.” You slid your wrist away as he wiped at his eyes.

“I paid 360 yen for that and this is how I’m treated?”

“Tsk, rich people always complain about getting their money back from the poor.” You sighed.

Satoru shook his drenched hair at you in retaliation.

“Don’t! I’m going to get all sticky!” You backed away, behind his glasses you could’ve sworn you saw his eyes gleam.

“Sticky you say?” He took a ‘menacing’ step forward shaking the can in his hand.

“Ru…Satoru…we can talk about this.” You persuaded as you watched him thumb the tab, air decompressing made you book it.

You ran laughing breathing through your nose smelling dirt. Breathing out you felt your cheap flip flop pop and abandoned it. With you leading the both of you made it back to your destination, Shoko and Suguru nowhere in sight. Passing the checkpoint you headed for the boardwalk dodging and weaving through the structures poles.

Both of you laughing to the point where your stomach hurt if you didn’t breathe again soon.

“Ru, please!” Your face burned from the rush.

“There’s no begging your way out of this, you started and I’ll finish.”

“Wrong,” You barely escaped his attempt to splash you, “You started this two years ago!”

“The past is the past let it go.”

“Yeah Ru,” He tried again making you hide behind a pole which became a back and forth, “the past is the past why don’t we drop the weapon and we talk about this like adults?”

“My rules don’t apply to me.”

A toned arm the width of the pole you stood behind reached for you successfully pulling you near. Your attempts at escaping were futile as he lifted the can above your head. You squeezed your eyes shut feeling nothing for a moment and peeled them open. Finally you were met with soda pouring down your head, you hissed groping at your eyes.

“Fuck that— that burns!” Your eyes watered as you harshly rubbed at them.

“See doesn’t feel nice does it?”

“Neither does being dropped in water.” You blinked out what you could, “Why’d you even do that?”

“Pretty sure I told you I was bored or something back then.” His arms rested around your waist, you felt the half full can against your back.

You slapped his chest playfully, “I had a hot date that day, thanks to you I don’t have a boyfriend right now. All I’ve got now is you.”

Satoru peered down at you almost in the way you liked. This close you could see it when he stared over the rim of his glasses eyes full of blue…and you. Yet something else that he seemed to blink away in an instant tucking his eyes back behind the shades, keeping his blue at a distance.

“Well, nobody’s stopping you.”

Satoru smiled. One that you’d never seen directed toward you before, it twitched, you didn’t like it.

“Ru?”

He turned his head away from you looking bored at the top of the boardwalk.

“You should’ve told me you had a date, maybe I would’ve left you alone.”

You wanted to say something else, you really did a better question then parroting yourself but you couldn’t help it.

“But, why’d you drop me?”

A familiar feeling settled between the two of you as you waited. When he answered you remembered it rained. You remembered…

The gloss on his lips when he smiled at you in such a sad way, “Blue just suits you better.”

Looking back at it no matter how you thought about it he had to have known, because he walked you to class the next day despite your protests. Your ‘date’ wouldn’t look you in the eye whenever he was behind you.

Rumors of letters left in your locker were never true because not a single one ever appeared. The pieces fell together all because of a pair of green earrings. Green earrings your date had gifted you were lost at sea, when you begged Satoru for a new pair he’d gotten the same pair…in blue.

Your heart shook as you stood under the pier once more with Satoru. Deja vu plagued your mind despite the situation.

You could barely look at him.

“How’d you know I’d be here?” You leaned your head against a pillar staring far away. The sun began setting just like the day Shoko and Suguru never showed up. Thinking back you wished you’d begged them.

“Lucky guess,” Satoru glanced at the crumbled paper you held, “You got one too..huh.” He muttered.

“Satoru.”

“I, I saw him.” His voice wavered with his step forward. “I saw him and I couldn’t do it.”

“Satoru.”

“He asked about you.” He nervously flexed his hands reaching for you in hopes of an understanding. “He said something about, about our letters.” Satoru stood in front of you, you barely needed to lift a finger to touch him.

“Can I…speak now?”

“Just please promise you won’t leave me over this, over something I can’t help. I really didn’t mean to I don’t know why—“ He rambled off struggling to find anything for you to stay.

“Satoru, I’m not going anywhere, I’m here Ru.”

He nods pressing his lips together and settling his hands to grab at his pockets to stop his flurry of words. His thumbs danced around his pockets.

“Do you like me?” You gripped the letter with both hands holding proof in front of him.

His fingers froze as he tried to stop his emotions from spilling, but he always slipped up in front of you. Here he stood with nothing to hide behind.

He grimaced, “We don’t have to—I’m fine with being friends.”

“Ru, are you in love with me?”

Satoru shut his eyes white strands falling into his lashes.

“I know it’s weird this isn’t how,” pushing his hair back he let out a frustrated sigh, “this isn’t how I wanted to do this and you must be so uncomfortable I’m so sorry.”

“Ru.” You’d placed your hands over his shaking ones, “I’m here, I’m still here just tell me. Is it true you love me?”

“Of course I do,” he breathes out of breath from you even touching him, “I know I haven’t shown you in the best ways but if you’ll let me prove it to you.” He squeezes your hands when he finally meets your gaze. You see your reflection in Satoru’s sea full of blue and you.

“I have another question.”

“It’s not very cool of you to not respond back to my confession.”

“Well I have something to say before I answer.”

Satoru groaned playfully becoming annoyed with you, you continued anyway.

“Were you really going to die without even telling me how you felt?”

“Are you…are you scolding me for something I couldn’t predict that’s so uncool.”

“You’re uncool I could’ve missed out on the greatest love of my life because he was too chicken to tell me!”

“Huh???”

“I’m not done yet! If you’d really died I would’ve lived to 90 years old all alone how rude!”

“You can’t be serious right now.”

“I’m dead serious.” You said with a grin. One that made the both of you laugh.

He pressed his forehead against yours.

“How can I make up for it?”

“First you can start off by not dying.”

“Do I get a trial period, because I may be the strongest but even I can’t beat the inevitable.” His nose bumped yours.

“Can you last the next ten years?”

“I think I can manage, what else?”

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

He lowered his eyes to your lips before they flicked back up to yours. You nodded heart practically in your throat.

All the years you noticed his lips really were soft and moist. Surprisingly, his lips weren’t sweet. You traced your fingers up his chest wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him close. You felt as though you were floating, your head becoming mush feeling Satoru’s hands grip your waist, hands shaking.

You couldn’t tell for sure who’s it was but, you were positive his heart was racing too.

Funnily enough the weather cleared up a bit later, giving the both of you time to dry off. You walked hand in hand swinging your arms back and forth.

“Sooo, when did you know how you felt about me?”

You pressed your hand to your chin looking up to the sky in thought.

“Huh…I’m pretty sure that year we did fireworks, I was shivering with Suguru’s button up when I said I was fine you still gave me your jacket anyway. I’d never felt so warm.”

The waves softly crash pushing and pulling from the sand as it sets up another domino effect.

“Mine was when Shoko told me you had a date before she left.”

You shoved him with a free hand the other interlocked with his still.

“I knew it! You’re such a jerk.”

“I was jealous,” Satoru pouted, “I told you I’d do better.”

You laughed, “I know Ru, and I love you for that.”

Satoru’s ears burns red but he lays his head on top of yours anyway, murmuring the same thing over and over again.

“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Words that distract you from feeling your first ever love letter slipping from your fingers. The paper floating amongst a breeze leaving with unanswered questions.

———————————————

If the ending wasn’t clear im sorry i wasn’t sure how to execute it??? Like I kinda hate it lmfao might fix it some other time but basically:

It takes place after the KFC breakup pretty much and Gojo and Geto also talk about you. Geto mentions to Gojo that after dealing with him he should go find you since he spilled the beans in his letter for you and im not sure if i made it clear when they were all hanging out but Geto was also crushing on you a little letter bloopers were:

“All these years it was obvious to me and Shoko that he loved you, everytime he saw you he’d gotten worse at hiding it. Since I can no longer be there this is my last ‘good’ deed. Please let my poor friend have the opportunity to confess.”

“I know the next time we meet will be as enemies, but tell me if you’d known would I have stood a chance?”

I really REALLY wanted to write the firework scene but it already took me a MONTH to stop procrastinating and type everything and I felt like I was yapping a lot so I didn’t and I really want to add it but I know me and it’d be ANOTHER month 😭🙏🏾 pray for me bro..

It would’ve consisted of Geto being more obvious he likes you by giving you his button up and Gojo sees you a little later like 🤨 ‘now I KNOW im not seeing what im seeing rn’ practically tucking you in his jacket lmaooo and shoko going feed up with both their shit.

See? Look at me yapping away what I MEANT to say was Id been reading this story on here called Intrinsic Warmth (if you are here instead of there I need you to click off and go find it because it is a MASTERPIECE sending me through the 57 states of grief ohmygod it’s so good I love the way they write Gojo so much he’s so 😩 and Heibi(you) 😩😩😩😩 I could yell from the rooftops) what was I saying…OH so basically thatdesklamp (the author) inspired this pretty much Intrinsic Warmth’s chapters take place one day a year so I tried to have my story move in only the same setting. You hate the beach but learn to tolerate it. You tolerate Gojo but somehow learn to love him.

Please read Intrinsic Warmth I really need someone to talk to about it 👁️ 👁️.

#gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #i love boyloser gojo sm i really tried i love when he’s full of himself but still like 😟😟 what if i can’t bag them??? #boyloser #geto suguru #geto kinda likes you but has to be the wingman sorryyyy 😌 #jjk shoko #Shoko is tired of the bullshit #DO ANY OF YOU READ INTRINSIC WARMTH OMG PLEASE IF YOU DONT GO ON A03 AND READ IT NEOW

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

ari help me i binged intrinsic warmth last night and now i hate gojo HOW DO I RECOVER FROM THIS BC I STILL HABE TO WRITE MY CHRISTMAS FOJO FIC BUT I DESPISE HIS GUTS RN

LMAOOO i had to google intrinsic warmth to know what it is ….. its on on my tbr list but now im thinking i might just. Not PHSHDHF

I SUPER GET U THOUGHHH im v easily affected by fics too 😭😭 …. for me it goes away if i just block everything out and go back to the source material :’3 one time i read gojo fic where he was toxic so i just binged jjk s1 and went ”he would NOT say that” and BOOM existensial crisis averted <3

but riko … pls tell me abt the fic ….. what made u hate him im so curious

#ive heard that intrinsic warmth is super good so i wanna read it at some point for sure !!! but im v picky w how ppl characterize gojo 😭 #DONT GIVW IN RIKO ….. 😥😥😥 dont hate him hes such a cutie patootie . #he just wants his students to be happy </333 #i will forever be gojo satorus whiteknight im sorry pshfjdjfj #i need ur christmas gojo to survive pls riko <///3 #ask tag ✩

[stellamancer]

gonna be fr fr that sometimes it will litearlly take me HOURS to read a fanfic because i am stopping every other sentence to SCREAM.

#nikuniku spam #me reading the newest chapter of intrinsic warmth

[babypanda1235]

kicking my feet and giggling rn bc the author of a fic I'm reading rn replied to my comments

#giggling and kicking my legs #i feel like a little kid #smiling so hard #eeeeeee #aaaaaaaaaa #fic: intrinsic warmth #author: thatdesklamp #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo x you #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #the fic is literally so good like go read it rn if you havent

[knowlesian]

rewatching specific scenes for this lucius and pete meta and while part of me wants to see the longer version of the sad little hamster angrily running away on its wheel that is izzy’s brain going “do it. say ohhhhhhh daddy at these poor people in a very odd voice and do a strange little laugh. that’s a human behavior pattern we can all get behind, you are gonna WIN THIS CONVERSATION IZZY WE GOT THIS” i also don’t know if i could handle it

he is so sure he’s gonna make anybody but himself cry and lucius and pete and wee john are just like …holy shit. you guys. you caught that, right? i didn’t hallucinate this moment? what is he DOING. is he okay? should we… like, is there a number we can call? maybe poison control?

it’s such a perfect moment for a million reasons but also i am unsure i could take whatever the fuck con did other than what we got because it already makes me want to crawl out of my own skin

like i genuinely might keel over and never recover because the short version is already so weapons grade awkward

#truly what the fuck is wrong with you izzy #other than like. everything #con is such a good actor i would not trust many people with this role #there is a spark of humanity under izzy’s fuckin garbage and it’s all con’s intrinsic warmth #but like. jesus christ the fuck is wrong with this man #this sad angry purse dog of a fucking nightmare

[sundescended]

/  Sometimes I think about the fact that to follow his dharma, karna declined the chance to be announced king and have the kingdom of the entire world (as eldest of the Pandavas), Krishna, a ‘good’ family name, and even his own mother Kunti

#thinking about how k.arna followed his dharma till the end #as far as i understand; dharma does not really translates into 'evil' or 'good' as we tend to understand it #k.arna is a character who follows the path of dharma a lot of times in the epic yet also does adharmic actions as well #thinking about;; #k.arna being by the side of the 'unrighteous' aka Duryodhana despite k.arna himself being aware of this fact #dharma is something that goes beyond what is 'man made' its something intrinsic #its something that is innate basically #our internal duty #example of this through k.arna is that his destiny was to honor his titles as daanaveera and as Vrisha #aka his charitable nature and as one who keeps his vows #amongst others #we see the first one as example; when he donates his armor and earing away despite having to lit cut it off his body #the second when he promises his mother that on the war he will not slain any of his other brothers except a.rjuna; so at the end #his mother will still have 5 children (As either he or a.rjuna will die) #(which he -did- know he was going to die anyways but went on regardless) #and i think thats a very clear example of him following his dharma #its like;; fire giving warmth and light #its natural for fire to do so #its what fire has to do naturally; its intrinsic to fire #if k.arna went against these things; he would be following an adharmic path #so it sounds kind of contradictory considering he followed a path that did not follow god's way yet at the same time #he was following his intrinsic nature #so that's why i feel the concept of dharma and k.arna is a lil more complicated than calling it following 'good' or 'evil' paths #yet k.arna did do adharmic actions as well bc he is human too #and it happened in many occasions and that is why he is not innocent nor pure hearted and why it brought him unhappiness as well #THONKS #i think its so so interesting #and it adds so much depth to his character #k.arna is so much more than 'goodest sunboi' or 'pure innocent man who did nothing wrong' #or in f.ate's context; 'haha he doesnt understand indirects and jokes'

[vienssunshine]

It's Too Much

pairing: Choso Kamo x fem!reader nsfw: dom!reader, inexperienced!Choso, premature ejaculation word count: 1.5k author's note: this idea took third place in the poll, but I was extra inspired to write this because of a tik tok my friend sent me. description: Choso has been touch-starved for so long, so when you touch him, it can be a lot, maybe even too much for him to handle

Choso has never felt another's body against his own that wasn’t attempting to hurt him. For all 150 years he’s been alive up until he met you, physical contact meant pain. But now, he’s beginning to learn that that isn't completely true.

There are similarities between a touch of pain versus…pleasantness might be the word—he hasn’t sorted it out completely yet—as a feeling lingers after contact. A strike leaves an aching bruise, the afflicted area reminding him of the injury whenever the slightest pressure is applied, but when you place a gentle hand on Choso’s shoulder while speaking to him, it leaves behind something entirely different. 

The best way he can describe the initial feeling is as a warmth, and not just due to the intrinsic heat from where your flesh meets his, but one that swells in his chest and spreads out to the rest of his body. After you leave, your touch doesn’t require a mark on his skin or a painful sting like a bruise needs to be remembered, rather, the outline of where your fingers laid on his shoulder simmers on his skin for the rest of the day. 

You fluster him with your casual touches–placing your hand on his forearm or leaning your head on his shoulder–but it helps him work up the courage to start acting on his own desires to feel you. He appreciates how you let him take his time as he explores the little things, like the feeling of holding your hand, intertwining his roughened fingers with yours. He looks up to your face, making sure what he's doing is okay, and you give him a gentle smile, telling him he's doing great. There is that warmth in his chest again. He realizes he likes the feeling of you praising him—a lot. 

Soon, he starts asking for more: to cup your cheeks, pet your hair. One day, he asks to hold your body against his on the bed, feeling your softness and warmth while working hard to regulate the influx of emotions your proximity inspires. Yet, it gets the better of him and he asks something that’s been on his mind for a while: if he can kiss you.

You accept, of course, and with your lips so soft and sweet, things quickly develop, escalating to the point where you are on top of him, straddling his big legs, and kissing down his bare chest to his waistband. He tries to keep still, but your lips feel so good and his hips betray that, gently thrusting up and into you.

“S-sorry,” Choso says, “I…I can’t control it.”

You look up from his chest. “It’s okay, Choso,” you say as you drag your hands down his abs to his waistband, deepening the pink dusted upon his cheeks, “It seems like you want more.” 

“Mhmm,” Choso whimpers, watching as you tuck your fingertips into his waistband and pull it down, freeing his sensitive erection.

Your hands wrap around his length and his eyes flutter closed in bliss. Being touched there is a new sensation for Choso and it’s stirring up a feeling he hasn’t had much experience with.

He thinks it’s arousal, which is, according to Mahito, what causes humans to “fuck.” But Mahito always spoke about fucking in a negative light, describing it as disgusting, primal thing humans do. That perspective doesn't make sense to Choso anymore because whatever you are igniting in him, if it is that aroused feeling Mahito described, feels so good he thinks he would die if you stopped. 

“Do you like this, Choso?” you ask as you stroke him. Hearing his name fall so sweetly from your lips sends a shiver through Choso’s body. 

“I-I do,” he says, moaning when you pay special attention to his pink tip, stimulating the sensitive area with your fingers in a tight circle. He’s been unconsciously bucking his hips up into your fist, chasing more of this unfamiliar sensation that has pressure to build up in his stomach.

“Then, would you like it if I put it inside of me?” 

He hadn’t considered that as a possibility, already so pleasure-drunk from feeling your palm against him, but there’s no way he can refuse your offer. 

“Yes. Yes—fuck—please do that.”

“Alright, Choso,” you say, getting off of him, “You just sit still, okay?” 

His breathy whine tells you that the last thing he wants to do is sit still. You smile, he looks so cute when he’s desperate.

“Just a little bit longer,” you say, intentionally moving slower than necessary just to see how long the poor curse can hold out.

He watches as you pull down your underwear, and the second you remove it, he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you back on top of him. Then he’s pressing hot, sloppy kisses to your neck, devouring it like a man starved. His passion and intensity make up for his lack of experience, though you note he’s getting the hang of it.

Choso’s barrage of affection is halted by a surprised gasp when you grip his erection and align yourself with it. The hunger in your eyes reminds him of how out of his element he is, but he doesn’t let it scare him, rather, he lets it feed his desire of making you feel as good as he does. 

You hold the tip to your entrance and Choso’s breath hitches when he feels the wetness and warmth of your hole. Slowly, as to not overwhelm, you sink down on him, and he moans—sweet and unbridled—from the way your walls hug him. 

“I’ve—hah—never…felt something like this,” he says, eyes pressed closed, wrinkling the thin black mark running just underneath them. 

Your hands fall onto his built chest as you make it all the way down on him, driving the entirety of his long, slender dick deep within you. His hands fly to your hips when it happens, but then one grabs for your wrist on his chest, circling his fingers around it, needing you to help him through this new sensation. 

“Feels good?” you ask, your voice breathy.

“Feels s’good,” he says, “Too good.” He shifts around underneath you; the pressure he was feeling earlier when you were touching him is becoming inescapable, sweeping through his stomach like a vicious undercurrent. 

“I’m going to start moving now, 'kay?” you say. 

Choso nods but is woefully unprepared for when you begin to lift your hips up and down, pushing his length through your gummy walls. Your movements on top of the information already flooding his senses–your warm skin, rapid heartbeat, fluttering eyes—it's so overwhelming. His head falls back, and even though you’re going at such a slow pace, it feels like your walls are milking him, intent on making the tightness in his core snap.

Choso knows it’s too much for him, but watching your eyes close in pleasure and your fingers dig into the skin on his chest, it makes him want to keep going, to not cum just yet. But with the sight of you naked on top of him and the way your insides are squeezing him, not cumming is a near impossible task. He wants to do a good job for you, to hear you tell him that, but he's sure he won’t last. 

“Fuck, I’m s-ah-sorry,” Choso whines, “I can’t…if you keep moving, I can’t-“ 

“You’re gonna cum already, Choso?” you ask, a wickedness in your voice, “You feel that good?”

You’re teasing him, despite how you find your view beyond erotic: he’s a squirming mess underneath you, with his eyebrows pressed together, face flushed with warmth, and fingers tight around your wrist as he just fights the urge to cum.

“Yes—ngh—you feel s’good, s’good-I’m sorry,”—you feel his cock twitch inside you—“I can’t, I’m sorry, m’gonna-“

He groans, thrusting his hips up into you with a force that requires you to grab onto him to stay put, and empties his load deep inside you, sweet moans interspersed with apologies.

You’d be more disappointed in him for not lasting long, but with this being his first time in a while, you’re willing to forgive—especially after being treated to his endless, pretty noises.

When he comes down, you press a kiss on his cheek, “Too much, Choso?” you ask.

“I’m sorry, you just felt so good,” he says in between pants. His poor body is shaking, his chest is heaving, and a pink flush burns all over his pale skin. 

“It’s okay,” you say, “I enjoyed that.” Only, you wish you had been able to cum, too. Seeing him writhe underneath you has your cunt aching for attention.

He sits up, and you feel his cock move inside you. “Still, I wanted to last for you.”

“Sweet boy,” you say, pushing a few strands of dark hair out of his face, “You did great. I know it’s been a while since you’ve done anything like this.” 

He’s still pouting, but his frown turns into a smile when an idea hits him. He flips you over with ease—sometimes you forget how strong he is—and pulls out of you, keeping your legs open so he can bring his face down to your cunt, wetness mixed with his own cum seeping out of it. 

He presses a kiss to your inner thigh. “Let me make it up to you, I haven’t gotten to feel you on my tongue yet.” 

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #choso kamo #kamo choso #choso smut #choso kamo smut #choso x reader #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso x female reader #touchstarved choso #choso kamo x reader

[mitsies]

I know this is like so random but do you have any geto, gojo, nanami, or megumi ao3 recs because the only good fics I’ve read of jjk are ones you’ve written 😭

you have come to the right place :,) i post more recs than fics at this point haha most of these are copy pasted off previous rec lists but have been added onto! the ones with green + marks are NEW RECS

here's a post on how to use ao3 to find fics by yourself for those who dont know <3

gojo + ao3:

+ intrinsic warmth: my favourite fic of all time. like genuinely. insane writing, fucking amazing in every sense of the term. 2nd time recommending this! reader's character is so sick BUT updates real slow (which isnt a bad thing!! good things take time!!) so i wouldn't read if you aren't patient // 122k words, 15 chapters, incomplete

+ ripverse: not really a series, more like a compilation of fics! it's got a lot of angst and the one titled 'interlude' contains smut i think so beware, and it's also a lovetriangle/poly-but-geto-goes-crazy-so-not-poly moment // 55k words, 8 pieces

+ the witches' brew: super cute fluff! reader owns a cafe, gojo is a regular, it's all around adorable // 2 chapters, 11k words, completed

+ all that is solid melts into air: arranged marriage trope! i haven't read but @/aanobrain loves this one // 7k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ cake batter: established relationship w/ dad!gojo & megumi <33 not much to say, just short n sweet, i am such a sucker for dad gojo so its no surprise there's one of these on the list.. // 2k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ best of luck: initial concept is really unique!! confessions, slight angst, takes place at the beginning/middle-ish of s1 i think? so cute loved this &lt;;3 // 5k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ afternoon tea(se): gojo torturing megumi. classic !! so so cute love the banter // 1.7k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ my apologies, gordon ramsay: god i hate this man. jk. reader is a teacher and a functional human being; gojo is not. loved! // 8k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ a name known only to paper: platonic, angst- beautifully written, such a unique idea. reader is gojo's older sibling. // 3k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ heart beats: another collection! i looove gojo in this so so cute i also adore bff nanami in the last one haha // 11k words, 3 pieces

+ exposure therapy: this is 1/2 of a 2 piece collection. when i read this for the first time i was floored- i love the creative take, and the reader's character (it was a 'she's so me' moment). this author writes with such a subtle but unadulterated take on love and i adore it // 5k words

+ how to be a human being: 2/2 of the previous rec and the perfect continuation in every sense of the term. oh my gosh, is this masterful- from the relationships & writing of megumi and tsumiki to gojo (i almost forgot this was a rec for him) it's all around amazing // 20k words

+ the sanctity of a name: SO SENTIMENTAL !! what an adorable work that rly goes into the psychology and significance of his technique + upbringing. so real and raw and very him // 2k words, complete, 1 chapter

+ assumptions: omf jealous gojo...... he's so cute in this!! you guys are married and it's almost his birthday, but while you're planning his surprise party he suspects something else.. // 6k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ even with the lights off: RAHHHH another fic that has me floored and pushing the #saveijichi agenda at the same time // 8k words, 2 chapters, complete

nanami + ao3:

+ math help: dad!nanami w son!yuuji.... yeah that's all i really need to say i think! // 1 chapter, 2k words, complete

+ photo albums: nanami shares abt his childhood! // 1k wc, 1 chapter, complete

+ i don't really read for nanami but i would check out @aanobrain and maybe shoot them an ask bc she's a big fan :)

geto + ao3:

+ lessons in love: DAD!GETO.................. im such a sucker for a good family dynamic in fics and this is adorable !! no curse au if i remember right! // 4k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ forever is in your eyes: angsty but ends in fluff :,) touches on his mental state, riko's death, all that! so sweet, i adore how this author writes him <;3 // 2k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ ripverse: not really a series, more like a compilation of fics! it's got a lot of angst and the one titled 'interlude' contains smut i think so beware, and it's also a lovetriangle/poly w gojo-but-geto-goes-crazy-so-not-poly moment // 55k words, 8 pieces

+ dog days are over: a series!! by the same author who wrote ripverse which is how you know it's going to be brilliant !! marriage, parenthood, some nsfw moments // 30k words, 5 chapters, incomplete

+ curious cat: cat gojo and neighbor geto.. i love this one! it's so so cute and sweet, if you're looking for some light fluff this is definetely for you // 8k words, 5 chapters, complete

megumi + ao3:

+ complicit: college!au !! i remember reading this and loving it omg, the unique concept kept me hooked and interested, especially paired w the lovely writing! one of my fav series ive read. be warned, last chapter is nsfw // 18k words, 5 chapters, complete

+ a very special december 22nd: cute bday fic :,) forgive me for reccing all this author's megumi fics... theyre just too good !! i love the dynamics, all of it! // 5k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ kisses and cough syrup: THE BANTER!! THE FLUFF!!!!! i love this fic sm, so cute! // 1k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ nocturnal: establishING relationship fics are one of my fav genres and this hits the nail on the head.. he's so stupid silly in this and i know you'll love it like i do // 2k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ lover boy: 2nd year reader, annoying meddling gojo, placed at the beginning-ish where megumi gets beat tf up- what more could you ask for! // 2k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ difficult to not overthink: todo strikes again! you ponder megumi's type // 1k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ ten confessions: megumi: ten dif confessions in dif tropes each time, so they can all be read as stand-alone pieces! so so cute and beautifully written.. we all know i love a good confession // 19k words, 7 chapters, incomplete

+ therefore, i am: reader gets mixed up in the world of sorcery.. megumi's there, too! // 3k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ takes one to know one: flowershop au..... convulsing on the ground. my fav trope, ever, and so so cute oh my GOSH // 2k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ i really (x6) like you: fluff!! this is the one i linked in my og ask but it deserves a place here too &lt;3 // 4k words, 1 chapter, complete

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #nanami kento x reader #geto suguru x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #getou suguru x reader #gojo x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #nanami x reader #this is the most i've written in ages LMFAO and i didnt even do anything.. but look at me!! replying to an ask on time!! unheard of honestl #mitz recs

[thatdesklamp]

The Gojo Household, Winter, 2010

more satoru pov from intrinsic warmth canon because I require only happiness from this fandom rn

Satoru wishes he’d thought of something different when he first saw you.

He knows, now, that gossip in Jujutsu society is trivial and meaningless. Nothing means anything, and anything that’s said is either inflated out of proportion, or so shallow it’s basically pointless, or just untrue.

Satoru is older now—in fact, it is his twenty-first birthday next week—and as he’s been the focus of that same gossip for all of his life, he’s learnt not to believe it. He doesn’t even listen, nowadays. Few people have the gall to talk to him so casually, which, for once, Satoru can spin as a positive.

But he was young when he met you. He was six, as much as you try to convince him he was seven. When he was young, he was convinced that all the rumours were true: after all, the ones about him were.

Satoru was the strongest, the best, the prodigy that would change the world; he was Satoru Gojo, born for everything, with everything, and so of course everything about you would be correct, because everything about him was, too!

He had heard rumours, spoken candidly by his parents, before they died, and then in hushed voices by the servants when they didn’t think he could hear. He had heard about everyone; the downfall of the Inumaki clan, the pathetic outcasts of the Zenins, even the tiny little Hebi family, whose heir was not only born a girl, but with a disgraceful mutation of the family technique.

It’s what he thought, when he first saw you.

He noticed you looking at him, in the corner of his eye. You were one of the only children at the clan meeting, and your hands were tied tight behind your back.

You looked at him with hollow eyes, and Satoru had preened under the attention. He had thought you were looking at him because he was Satoru Gojo, and he hadn’t realised that you hadn’t known who he was.

Before you, everyone he’d ever met had known him. Everyone, until you. But you don’t remember meeting him, so Satoru can’t ask you why you were looking at him.

Satoru wishes he’d thought more of you, that first time. He knows, of course, that there was no reason for him to; it wasn’t like he’d fallen in love with you because of your name, or your family, and it wasn’t as if he should have felt the spark between the two of you just from hearing your family story. That would make it fate, if it was like that, and Satoru had always hated fate. He doesn’t want to love you because he has to, or because it was destined for him.

He looks at you, now. You put the kids to sleep an hour ago, and had spent the evening as you usually do: together, on the couch of his childhood home, just being with each other.

But now you’re half-asleep, leaning against him—his Infinity—with your eyes closed. Your breathing is slow and soft, and he feels your chest expand with every inhale. You trust him with this, that he will not deactivate his technique when you’re sleeping. Satoru has never been more grateful for you, or more undeserving of your trust. He would never touch you, never: he isn’t fifteen any more, and he knows better than he did then. But he wants to. More than anything, Satoru wants to touch you.

That night, on the rooftop. He could feel the pressure of your hands on him, exploring him, the hesitance transforming into curiosity and then careful confidence in your touch. Satoru had been wanting your hands on him for… he doesn’t even know, not really. But now he has felt you, even if it is through Infinity.

And he wants you. He cannot look at you without wanting his hands on you, his lips on you: he feels it viscerally, every time you smile, every moment you allow him to see beyond your facade of severity.

You say that he pretends, but you don’t seem to realise that you do the same: you hold yourself back from him, always leave him wanting, craving, and Satoru, who has always been selfish, will never be satisfied with all that you allow him. He will always be wanting more.

You stir. “Hmn?” you mumble.

Satoru shushes you. “Go back to sleep.”

“Shouldn’t. Need to go home.” You break off, yawn so wide he can see the pink of your tongue. Satoru has to look away.

“I’ll wake you later. I promise.”

“Promise.” You pat your lips together and curl further into him, your head on his chest—Infinity, he has to keep reminding himself, because he wants to pretend he is holding you without it.

One gloved hand rests on your opposite arm, and you clench it in your sleep as pain bursts through the muscle. You had hurt your shoulder again yesterday; whenever it sparks up again, Satoru feels a fresh wave of pure hatred for your family, for those bastards that kept your hands bound for all those years. He had hated them when he was younger, and he hates them even more now; he hates that their hold on you has only tightened, keeping you from touching people, keeping you in pain.

The first time, he hadn’t thought of them as restraints. They were evidence that you were the strange Hebi heir, the one who was born with the weird touching technique. Satoru hadn’t understood why your hands were bound; yes, he’d heard of it, but he didn’t understand why the gloves weren’t enough. He was just a kid, but Satoru wishes he had thought better of you. At least he had liked you; he really had, right from the first time he had spoken to you.

He had noticed you leave. Your father and grandmother had left you alone, and you had stood there for a moment, watching them go. Then you had looked around, and walked through a half-open doorway, pushing it ajar with your shoulder. Satoru remembers that you had walked through the crowd: your aversion to touch was still enforced by your family, not your own mind, and you hadn’t yet developed your panic around the large groups of people that you have now.

Satoru, six and curious and arrogant, followed you. He was interested in the way you walked; it was so decisive, after a moment of hesitation, latching onto the open door and walking through swiftly. Satoru didn’t think about Yahaba, or whether she would be worried if he went missing, since, back then, he hadn’t learnt how to think about anyone other than himself.

He was good at walking quietly, though, especially through old houses like his own. Satoru knew what floorboards looked like when they would creak, from all his time hiding from servants. Satoru followed you through room after room, his excitement growing. It was like a game to him, trying to guess when you would stop, and then try to figure out why.

It took you a while to decide where to stay, and when you finally do, Satoru didn’t understand why: it wasn’t one of the cooler rooms you’ve passed, like the ones with loads of bows or the ones with the cool murals and paintings.

The room was the most boring room. It was dead silent, and pretty blank and bland, and you just closed your eyes and sit down on the floor with your back against the door.

Satoru followed you in: you’d left the door open. He wondered for a second if this counted as creepy, if following you was a bit weird, but then he shrugged and reckoned that you’d be grateful to see him anyway. After all, you were just the kid from the Hebi clan! He was Satoru Gojo. Anyone would be honoured to meet him.

Actually—no that he was thinking about it, your journey was really weird. You even walked past loads of rooms with blades and swords, and Satoru didn’t understand why you wouldn’t just take off those ropes that you’ve got behind your back. They couldn’t be comfortable: they influence the way you walk, he thinks, and you keep tensing your arms up like you’re trying to pull away from them. Why wouldn’t you just take them off? Satoru resolved to ask you.

“Why are you sitting like that?” he asked, stepping into your view and mimicking your hand restraints.

It was just an introductory question—he was getting himself ready for your surprise, and then the absolute flattery and praise that always came when people saw him. They were filled, as they often said, with an overwhelming mixture of fear and awe, which he thought was pretty damn cool.

Satoru had been told he could be intimidating when he was trying to be, but he didn’t really want to scare you right now. But that didn’t mean you weren’t going to be scared: he was Satoru Gojo, after all.

But Satoru was very good at being modest, and so he was asking you a question on your level, so you wouldn’t be so worried about engaging him in conversation. Here! He was telling you. I’m just a normal person! Even if he wasn’t, it was good of him to pretend. But Satoru was good with modesty, obviously, especially when people starting crying when they saw him, which had happened exactly five times in his lifetime.

Satoru smiled graciously, ready for you to start shaking and maybe prostrating yourself in front of him.

You looked up. “Oh. I can’t take them off.”

For a split-second, Satoru blanched. Where was the fear? Where was the awe? You were just looking up at him with that same solemn expression you were wearing before.

And then, Satoru brushed it off. Maybe that solemn face was just your ‘whoa, I’m super impressed that I’m in the presence of Satoru Gojo, and so I’ve got to pretend to be okay so I don’t look stupid in front of him’-face. He wouldn’t be offended: everyone else had their strategies to cope with meeting him for the first time.

So, Satoru continued your conversation: “Why not? That rope, or something? Doesn’t look that strong.” He stepped closer to you, pretending to size it up, like he didn’t know the exact answer you’d give him. “I could cut it off for you if you want.”

And there he was—being so generous, even though he didn’t have to, and even though he knew you’d refuse.

You shook your head, and Satoru felt a spark of triumph. “No, thanks,” you said.

“Didn’t think so.” Satoru grinned, very pleased with himself. Then, because he had to explain how clever he was, he added: “You walked through loads of rooms with weapons on your way here, but you didn’t even look at them. I saw you.”

“I’m not allowed,” you said, simply. You shuffled a bit on the floor, clearly still uncomfortable from the ropes, and probably trying to hide your nerves at being in such close-quarters with him, Satoru Gojo.

Satoru didn’t understand the concept. He didn’t like the idea of not being allowed to do something: he was allowed to do whatever he wanted, at home.

“Says who?” he asked. He sat right down next to you, copying your posture right down to the way your hands were stuck behind your back. He was right, before: it was really uncomfortable.

“My father.”

Satoru crinkled up his nose. “And you listen to him?”

“Yes.”

Okay, that was pretty weird of you. His opinion of you soured, a little. Satoru had been intrigued by how you’d left your family back in the other room; it had seemed like something rebellious, something interesting. But at the same time, you were the type of person who’d listen to people who didn’t care about you. Satoru looked away from you, feeling a little disappointed.

And then, like you were registering exactly what he was thinking, you said: “Well. Sometimes I do.”

Satoru perked up. “Sometimes? When don’t you?”

There it is! It’s obvious, now: you were holding back, but as soon as you picked up on his reticence, you switched up, and tried your absolute best to keep his attention on you. Of course. That makes sense!

“Now, I guess,” you said. You seem a bit shy, maybe, or a bit sullen. Satoru couldn’t tell: a flicker of something weird went up in him, an emotion he couldn’t recognise. He didn’t understand what you were feeling. Satoru didn’t like that—Satoru always knew everything, always. “He probably didn’t want me to leave the main room, but I did. He’s going to be angry.”

Satoru felt a strange tug in his belly. For some reason, he actually wanted to know the answer to his question. “Don’t you care about that?”

If you kept those weird ropes around your wrists because of your family, then surely you’d care about what they think about you.

“What?”

“If  your dad’s going to be angry.” Satoru looked at you intently, trying to peer into your mind. You weren’t reacting the way he was expecting you to, and he didn’t know what to make of it, really. “You don’t look like you care.”

After a moment, you said: “He’s angry a lot. You kind of get used to it.”

Satoru’s lips pursed. He didn’t like the sound of that. If he was living with someone who was mean like that, he wouldn’t get used to it: Satoru would do something about it.

You looked at him in the eyes, and he was taken aback, for a second, at how strong your gaze was. You kept flipping in his view of you: at one time, you were nothing at all, and then you were interesting and rebellious, and then you were subdued and fearful, and, now, you were something in-between.

You cringed, a little, at your words. You cast your gaze down, and Satoru found himself seeking it: he wanted your attention back. He wasn’t used to losing it.

“I mean…” you trailed off. “Not really. You don’t get used to it, but, I mean, I just have to guess when it’s going to be a good choice or not. Overall.” You just stared at the floor, and Satoru found himself leaning closer to you. He didn’t think you noticed. “I think he’s going to be really mad, yeah, but I didn’t want to be in the room anymore, so I’m just going to deal with it later. A lot of the time, though,” you said, with an air of finality, “it’s overall a bad choice not to do what he says.”

You nod, a little.

Satoru had never known so little about a person before. Everything he had thought about you was being twisted and changed, and he didn’t know at all what to make of it. He had expected you to be surprised and honoured to see him: you weren’t, not visibly. He had expected you to be pitiful and boring, as the weird heir of the Hebi family: you weren’t, not really, but instead were something different altogether.

Maybe it was just because Satoru didn’t know how to deal with being wrong—although, no, he wasn’t wrong, because he was never wrong—or maybe it was because there was something genuinely interesting about you. He wasn’t sure.

But, perhaps for the first time in his life, Satoru wanted to know more about a person. That was definitely something to pay attention to. That was something.

“What’s your name?” he asked. He didn’t actually know your first name: none of the servants had ever called you it. You were just the sad heir of the Hebi family, the one who’d gone wrong.

“Hebi,” you said. “Hello.”

Satoru grimaced. That wasn’t what he was asking, and you knew it. “That’s not your name,” he said, clearly urging you to answer his question properly.

“It is,” you said, petulantly. “My name is Hebi.”

“Hebi,” he repeated. “Right. But,” he said, slowly, to make sure you understood, “that’s your family name.”

You blinked at him. “Yes, exactly.”

Satoru held back a groan—he held it back, because he was trying to make a good impression here. Him! Trying to make a good impression! This was a day of new experiences. Satoru never had to try to do anything. He just did it, and people loved him for it. He didn’t know why, but there was something he liked about you, and this, about how you were making him try.

“So,” he said, because he knew you weren’t getting it, “tell me your first name then.”

You hesitated, and then your eyebrows bunched together, and your lips pursed into a frown. “No,” you said.

Satoru’s eyes widened. “No?” he echoed, in disbelief.

“No.”

Satoru stared at you. No? But he was making a good first impression! He was Satoru Gojo—people didn’t say no to him, even strange interesting people like you. Satoru was actually trying, and it wasn’t enough for you to tell him your name.

He struggled to speak for a few seconds. Satoru genuinely didn’t know how to proceed—he felt out of step in a way that was completely foreign to him. Satoru was used to being in charge of every conversation; he would enter a room and it would fall silent, just because he was there; he would walk through a crowd, and people would part for him, like he was activating his Infinity, the way he was learning how to do at home. Satoru was good at conversations like that, where everyone else was on the defensive, not him.

And yet, here he was. You had just said no. He wanted to know your name, and you didn’t give it to him.

He looked back at you, bewildered. And, Satoru remembers now, that was the moment he had known you were special for him: because, even as his head spun with trying to understand how someone could deny him something, he watched as your lips twitched into the tiniest half-smile.

Satoru’s heart had filled, back then, with such an overwhelming rush of joy and pleasure and pride, pride he had never felt before, because he had never struggled for anything before, and so he had never yet succeeded.

And even though you were trying to hide your smile, it was still there: he had made you laugh, even if he didn’t know how he had done it, even if it was just because you had found his mystified expression somewhat funny. He had still made you smile, and he had been so proud of himself for it.

That was the first time he had felt that, and, now, remembering it, Satoru realises he has been chasing that feeling ever since.

Satoru had not known you back then. Satoru knows you now. He knows how you walk, how you smile, all your different smiles; he knows what you look like when you find him ridiculous, and when you are trying to pretend that he isn’t funny; he knows what you look like when you are afraid, and when you are afraid of him, and he knows that he never wants to hurt you again.

Satoru knows you. He loves you: he knows this, too, now. It had taken him some time to realise it, and even longer to accept it. But he knows. And he does.

Maybe it’s something wrong with him, he thinks, with some tired wry amusement. The way he enjoys you denying him things, or the way he has to work so hard for such small things, like your smile, or your compliments, or even your attention, these days. He likes how focused he has to be, how much effort he has to devote to you, because he knows he will always be rewarded, eventually.

You’re magnificent. It was what you had said to him, that night on the rooftop, when you had let him get so close to you, and when you had looked so beautiful. Satoru still remembers the way the moonlight had made your eyes shine, as if liquid, and he remembers how staggering his love for you had felt, how all-consuming and unbearable.

He remembers your words, all of them. You’re just magnificent, Satoru. His name: you had called him by his name. The lilt of your voice, the curve of the vowels. You say his name, and he wants to kiss you. He feels it like a need, as strong as his beating heart.

You’re smart, and you make me laugh, even when I try to hide it. He wishes you wouldn’t: he loves that you do, because he is the only one who can make you laugh like you do with him. Satoru is the only one: to you, he is special. You make me feel… everything. It’s like my world is sharper and better whenever you’re in it.

Satoru wishes he had said more. Satoru wishes, sometimes, he had said the truth: that he could have repeated those same words back to you, and it would have still been just as truthful. Satoru’s world is nothing when you are not in it: he works, and he lives, and he is fine, but with you, everything is so much more. You know him. You know him, and you stay with him regardless.

You think he is good. You’re a good person, you had said. You are such a good person.

Satoru knows he is not. He has always been insensitive, needy, and he scares himself, sometimes, with the things he can do easily, that he knows are supposed to haunt him.

Satoru is selfish. He wants too much, and does not like it when he is denied that which he wants.

He wants you. He hates it when you hold yourself from him.

And he had asked you to marry him.

Satoru had been asking for a while. Not marriage: but for you to stay with him, for you to let him keep you close, to keep you with him always. Move in with me, he had been saying, for so long. Since you had finished with your fourth year at school, he had been asking. You’d visited his new house before he’d properly moved in, some random luxury penthouse suite that he didn’t care too much for, and you’d been impressed, in your restrained, amused way.

He had asked you, then, in the empty shell of a living room. Move in with me, he had said. It could be ours, he had not said.

You said no.

Satoru asked again. Later, when you were helping him move in. You said no.

Satoru asked again. You were watching the kids explore their new rooms. You said no.

Satoru asked again.

Satoru asked, and asked, and asked. You said no.

He didn’t understand why you didn’t want to. You gave him reasons, but he knew well enough that they weren’t real; he asked you again and again, and you refused to be honest with him. Satoru felt, for the first time since he had hurt you, back when he was fifteen, that divide between the two of you, something he could not cross, despite his desperate and fervent attempts.

Satoru asked again. You said no.

Satoru asked you to marry him. He didn’t understand it all, then, but he knew he wanted you to marry him. Satoru had always hated tradition, and had never thought about marriage, not seriously, but he thought of you, and your soft smiles and shining eyes and wry comments, and he had wanted it. You.

He had tried, so hard. He wanted you to want it—he wanted you to want him. I would, Satoru had told you. You knew that he didn’t enjoy traditions, that he didn’t subscribe to such antiquated ways of living, and you knew that being married would be compromising so much of what he believed in: but he told you that, despite all of that, despite everything, he would.

I would marry you, he had told you. Despite so much, he would.

It was his quietest confession. You knew him. You would understand.

You said no.

Satoru feels you stir, in your sleep. You mumble something to yourself, and then your eyes squeeze together and you yawn, widely. You open your eyes, groggy, and turn your face up to look at him. Satoru could kiss you, your lips are so close to his.

“Did I fall asleep?” you say, with a slight slur to your words. It’s cute, Satoru realises. Fuck, not only is he in love with you, but you’re cute, too.

“Just a little,” he says, and smiles as you scowl, as your nose scrunches.

“You should’ve woken me. I’m not going to—get to sleep at home, now.” You yawn again, and then push yourself off him—his Infinity—with a throaty heave. Satoru feels the loss instantly. Come back, he wants to say. He doesn’t.

“Ah,” Satoru says, leaning back to give you some more space, “that’s only if you still want to go. You don’t have to.”

You give him an unimpressed look. “Gojo.”

Satoru, he pleads, in his mind.

“What?” he says instead, laughing.

“I need to go home. I’ve got—” and your face, so untroubled and tranquil and sleep-drunk, falls. Your eyes go hollow, just for a second. “I’ve got work tomorrow,” you say, and then run your gloved hands over your eyes. “God, I’m tired.”

“I’ll take you to your work,” Satoru says. He knows he sounds impulsive, or pushy, or even desperate, but he is—nowadays, he has to treasure every hour with you, even when you’re asleep. “It’s no big deal, Hebi-Hebi. You can use your old room here—Yahaba will get someone to sort it out now, if I ask her.”

Satoru stands, decisive, and prays you won’t ask him to stop. “I’ll ask her now, yeah?”

You’re hesitating. “I can’t stay.”

“Sure you can!” Satoru grins down at you, and he recognises the flash of uncertainty. He purses his lips, and then crouches in front of you, hands braced on his knees. “C’mon. It’ll be like old times! Remember when you’d stay at mine, nearly every night?”

Your lips quiver, and Satoru knows he is close to coaxing a smile from you. He chases it, and chases it.

“Yeah,” you say, quietly.

“Then we’ll just do that again! You can have your old room.” Satoru would like you to stay the way you were before; your head on his chest—Infinity—with your body tucked into him. He wishes he had worked harder to remember it, or remember what it had felt like, to be so close to touching you.

“I shouldn’t…”

“Says who?” Satoru raises his eyebrows at you, putting on a childish face, and finally you smile. It is small, and barely there, but it’s a smile, for him, just for him, and he loves you so much he cannot do anything else.  

You bite at the inside of your lip. “I don’t have pyjamas.”

“I’ve got them in your size,” Satoru says, waving his hand in the air, as if to dismiss the thought entirely. He does: he always have, ever since you started staying the night at his as children. He has made sure that, whatever age you are, you will always have a place in his home.

“I need to take my makeup off,” you say, but he can tell your heart isn’t in it. Your smile has widened, and you are playful now. Satoru feels joyful, lighter than hair.

“You think I don’t have remover? You wound me with the accusation, Hebi-Hebi!”

“I’d need to put up with you for another few hours.”

Satoru laughs, full and loud, and you grin. “You adore spending time with me,” Satoru says, with a pretence of arrogance he hopes disguises the ever-present, thrumming desire for your reassurance, praise, love.

You hum, non-committal. “Maybe.”

Satoru clicks his tongue and pretends to be offended. “Agh. If you’re not going to admit it, maybe you can’t stay after all.”

“I said maybe, didn’t I?”

“Maybe isn’t good enough. I’m hurt, now. You’ve hurt me.”

“Poor baby.”

Satoru sticks out his tongue, which he knows doesn’t disprove the accusations of childishness, but he hopes will make you smile again. It does, to his pure delight.

You brace your hands on your thighs and push yourself up, combing stray hairs from your face. You laugh, quiet and to yourself, at something amusing he hadn’t realised he was doing.

“You’re so stupid,” you say, with a voice rich with affection. Satoru grins, and ducks his head down to your level. You blink at him, and then roll your eyes a half-second later.

“Tell me you want to stay,” Satoru says. He must be straightforward, or you might not say it at all. “Or you’re not allowed,” he adds, to make the request less obvious.

Your lips purse. “Gojo.”

“I’m waiting.”

“I—Gojo.”

“Do you want me to say please?” Satoru tilts towards you, another push, another quiet confession, one of hundreds. “I will if it’s you.”

Your eyes widen, just a fraction. Your lips part. Yes, Satoru thinks. You understand.

Then you look down, away from him, and it is broken. Satoru is selfish, and he wants too much.

“I’ll stay,” you say, turning from him and moving to plump up the cushions he had been sitting on. You do not look at him. “That’s all you’re getting.”

“So mean to me,” Satoru says, automatic.

“You deserve it.”

“And so cruel!”

“As I’ve heard.”

Satoru brushes it off. He’s getting used to that. He instead bounds over to you, finishes your work with the cushions, and then sits back down.

You stare at him. “What are you doing?”

“Hoping to spend a little more time with my Hebi-Hebi before she goes to sleep,” Satoru says, promptly. “You’re not that tired, are you?”

“I’m very tired.”

“But you don’t have to go to sleep right now,” he says, “right?”

You scoff, but it’s clear to both of you that there is no bitterness or anger. It is amused, and endeared, and Satoru loves that you think about him that way.

“Just a short while,” you say, collapsing back down on your half of the sofa. Satoru grins, so broad and happy, and he sees his smile mirrored on your lips.

“Just for a little bit,” Satoru echoes. “Until you want to leave. I promise.”

#intrinsic warmth #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #i don't even know how fluffy this is #i think my angst instincts took over for a second there #oops #anyway it's 5k and i've got a 9am tomoz wahh #no rest for the wicked or the gojo stans (they are synonymous) #also if I messed up the tenses anywhere no I didn’t #it’s been years since I wrote in past tense shhhh

[itoshiexx]

make a wish

synopsis: when you throw a surprise birthday party for rin, he blows the candles and makes a wish only you can turn into reality.

pairing: itoshi rin x fem!reader | words: 1.9k | warnings: childhood friends to (implied) lovers, cursing (rin being rin), rin tells bachira to die (jokingly!!), tooth rotting fluff, kissing, no pronouns but reader is refered as woman and girlfriend once

notes: is my bar exam tomorrow? yes. did i stop reviewing to write this? also yes. happy birthday to my favorite boy ever aka the love of my life aka itoshi pookie rin, I LOVE HIM TO DEATH!!!

masterlist

rin never really cared about his birthday. 

perhaps things were different when he was young, a naive little boy who hadn’t seen the hurt in life and didn’t know the feeling of self hate in such an intrinsic way. but as he grew up, celebrating the day he was born stopped making sense, and eventually his parents stopped trying to throw him parties or do anything special at all. 

as his best friend since childhood, you knew very well about rin’s change of heart, and you respected his wish of not wanting to celebrate. however, that never refrained you from wishing him a happy birthday, even going as far as buying him a little gift sometimes. rin tried to pretend to hate it, but the truth is that he craved hearing those two words from you. no one else’s mattered. 

that being said, he was totally not upset that you forgot his birthday. why would he? it was just a stupid date like any other. well, you never forgot any of his special days ever since he was six, but… so what if you didn’t remember this one? it was fine. rin didn’t care.

(he really fucking cared).

the lights on his bedroom were off, and the younger itoshi found himself moping on his bed, staring at the ceiling as if it could grant his heart’s deepest desires. as if on cue, the noise of a notification ringed through the darkness, and rin begrudgingly picked up his phone to see that you messaged him. he immediately sat up, eyes wide, heart making somersaults inside of his chest. 

the message wasn’t the “happy birthday, rinnie!” that he was secretly expecting.

n/n heyyyy can u come over?

rin scoffed. how dare you ask him to come over to your place if you didn’t even wish him a happy birthday? it was 7pm, for fucks sake — you had plenty of time. he should say no. he was going to say no. but he knew that, no matter how upset he was, there wasn’t a bone in his body that was able to deny you. so he just texted a quick “on my way” before grabbing his car keys and heading to your place. 

the familiar sight of your apartment brought warmth to rin’s chest; your place felt a lot more like home than his own house. he supposed it had something to do with you, though he would never admit that. quickly parking his car, he passed the building entrance and made his way towards the elevator, clicking the button to your floor. his phone vibrated again. 

n/n the door is open, u can come in

he frowned with your recklessness. you were a young woman living alone — how could you leave your door unlocked? it was fucking dangerous! he really needed to scold you for that. it was all he could think about as he twisted the doorknob, already speaking without noticing the lights were off.

“for fucks sake, y/n, would it kill you to lock this fucking door? i told you a million times that it’s dangerous—”

“SURPRISE!”

the lights went on, revealing all of his teammates wearing stupid party hats, confetti flying through the air and your gracious figure in the middle, holding a cake with teal frosting and lit candles. 

what the…?

rin completely froze. his eyes were wide, scanning the room, mind still trying to process what was going on. his body was rigid as no one had ever seen before, and the boys started to gossip between themselves.

“i think we broke him,” bachira whispered. at his side, isagi and reo snickered. 

knowing maybe your best friend was a bit overwhelmed, you slowly approached him until you managed to be the only thing in his field of vision. little did you know that rin always had his eyes on you — he was attracted to your aura like the planets were drawn to the sun. 

“happy birthday, rinnie,” you said, a bit sheepish. carefully, you let the cake on the living room table, having free hands to hug him by the waist. that seemingly broke him from his stupor, as rin instinctively hugged you back and stared at you, mouth still gaping like a fish.

“you… you remembered…”

you grimaced. “of course i did! what do you take me for, itoshi rin?”

“usually you text me as soon as it’s midnight, but you didn’t this time,” he stated, simply. it made you grin.

“aww, was lil’ old rinnie waiting for my message?”

he felt his cheeks heating up, and he pushed your body away before you could hear how fast his heart was beating. “shut up. it’s just weird to not have your dumbass bothering me.”

you laughed. “sure, pretty boy. whatever you say.”

rin’s teammates quickly surrounded him, giving him pats on the back and congratulations. some even brought gifts, though rin told isagi to “eat dick” when the striker handed him a wrapped box. however, despite his harsh words, you could see the inconspicuous smile threatening to break from his face, and that alone made you smile, heart full.

“let’s sing happy birthday!” isagi screamed amongst the commotion, making you remember that you left the cake at the living room table and the candles had most likely been wiped out. 

“no way,” you heard rin say. “i don’t want that shit.”

“oh, come on, rin-chan!” bachira clinged to rin’s shoulders. “y/n-chan went all the way to make you a super special birthday party. you gotta follow the rules, buddy!”

“go die.”

your little laugh brought rin out of his angry stupor, and when he turned around, his breath hitched. now that he wasn’t in a complete state of shock, he could see your delicate features lightened up by the soft glow of the candles, and the gentle smile that made your eyes crease and his heart race every time. and you were looking at him. 

(you were always looking at him).

the guests started singing happy birthday, but rin could only listen to the soft tune coming out of your mouth, as if you two were the only ones in the place. before he could register, the song was over, and everyone was staring at him expectantly. 

“make a wish, rinnie.”

he stared at you for a few seconds, before finally closing his eyes and blowing the candles. everyone cheered, and he couldn’t help letting out a small smile.

idiots, he thought. a whole bunch of idiots.

once the initial shock went by, the party went on normally, with lots of drinking, chatting and the usual bickering. you cut the cake into several pieces and put the slices on small plates, so that everyone could enjoy the sweet flavor. music blasted through the stereo, making bachira and kunigami start a dancing competition, and their moves were so weird your belly hurt from all the laughing. rin was leaning against the wall watching everything with an amused expression.

hours later, as the celebration started to die down, some of rin’s teammates had already gone home, and your apartment was slightly emptier. after saying goodbye to reo and nagi, rin looked around in an attempt to find you, furrowing his eyebrows when he didn’t succeed. 

chigiri quickly noticed his expression, nudging him with his elbow. 

“your girlfriend is on the balcony.”

rin’s grimace worsened. “she’s not my girlfriend.”

isagi, standing at chigiri’s side, only smirked. “not yet.”

the younger itoshi only rolled his eyes, showing him a middle finger. “fuck off, shithead.”

but he followed to the balcony anyway.

as he opened the door, the slight chill of the wind made him wince. he saw your figure leaning on the railing, arms bare due to your choice of outfit — you were beautiful, as always, but it didn’t really match the weather. he didn’t think twice before taking off his jacket and placing them on your shoulders, announcing his arrival. 

you tilted your head up, looking at him with those bambi eyes that nearly made him lose his mind. and then you smiled, getting cozy on his jacket, and he thought he might faint right there. 

fuck, the things you did to him.

“hey there, birthday boy. enjoying your party?”

“it’s cool, i guess.” he shrugged. with his answer, you diverted your gaze to the view, fidgeting with your fingers. he didn’t like your anxiousness.

“i’m sorry if i… you know, if i overstepped.” he gave you a puzzled look. “i know you don’t like to celebrate your birthday, but i thought you deserved to have something cool for once. i just wanted your day to be special.”

rin went silent, your words making his cheeks flush and his heart beat impossibly faster. you were always like this: so thoughtful, so caring… he didn’t even deemed himself worthy of it, yet you seemed to find something decent to cherish.

the words came out broken from his dry mouth, “every day is special if i’m with you.”

your eyes widened slightly, and you finally turned to face him. he took your flustered expression as a good sign, and gathered every ounce of boldness and ego he could manage, “you didn’t give me a gift, though.”

you rolled your eyes, giggling, and twisted your body so that you were facing each other. “is the party not enough, mr. egoist?”

“you answered that for yourself.” he smirked, taking a step closer. 

there was now very little between you both. you could smell his expensive cologne and feel his breath in your face, and you had to fight the urge to cower from those deep aquamarine eyes that left you mesmerized. 

“very well, then. what do you want as a gift?” you asked, mentally praising yourself for not stuttering. 

however, you nearly choked when his eyes went down and stared at your mouth, coming back up only to show a swirl of emotions. desire. affection. love, dare you say. he came even closer, his hands finding home in your hips, and yours instinctively went to his chest. 

“close your eyes,” he whispered, the minty smell of his breath filling all your senses. you obeyed, because itoshi rin had such a grip on you it was nearly ridiculous. 

and then, his lips found yours, delicate and gentle like only you knew he could be. rin kissed you as if you were the only thing that could sate him, as if you were what he has been craving all along. and you kissed him back to let him know you felt the same. 

your arms circled his neck and his hands went up to your waist, tugging you impossibly closer and making you yelp. he took the opportunity to invade your mouth with his tongue, sensually caressing yours in a loving dance, savoring all of you like he wanted for a long time. 

fuck, he thought, it was only the first time and he was already addicted. he couldn’t stop kissing you even if he tried, and even though he intended to steal just one kiss, he was indeed a greedy man — especially when it came to you.

alas, when you finally couldn’t handle the lack of air any longer, you parted, with heavy breaths and faces flushed. you touched your foreheads while calming down, basking in the silence and the warmth of each other’s bodies. 

then, rin smiled, slightly incredulous. “huh.”

“what?” you arched your brow, but you couldn’t help but smile as well. 

he pecked your lips one last time. “i guess birthday wishes do come true.”

© 2023 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.

#bllk imagines #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock #blue lock fanfiction #blue lock drabbles #blue lock fluff #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #itoshi rin #itoshi rin fluff #itoshi rin x y/n #itoshi rin x reader #bllk #rin itoshi #rin itoshi x y/n #rin itoshi x you #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock rin #blue lock x female reader #bllk rin #bllk x you

[morgaseus]

I’ve encountered a few on AO3 but I too am desperate for more Gojo fics anywhere 😭 if you have any recommendations too please I beg give some to meee 😭😭

Ohhh yesss ive got quite a few! Also, please look out for the content warnings!

Series

Sincerely not by saintobios (arranged marriage, modern au) (read this yrs ago so i cant remember much but i do remember crying at 10 pm in the kitchen while reading this)

Sundered by tojikai (baby daddy gojo, modern au)( made me sob )

Kintsugi by NoahLaval (arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, gojo x oc) (I love this! made me cry a lot, like really..)

No Cure by Tawus (enemies to lovers, reader is a curse user)

Exposure therapy by seoafin (angst, reader is in the same year as sashisu, au where toji became a teacher, also a geto/reader, but shoko is the endgame)(you should check out their other works too!)

Monster Hospital by mushmoon12 (enemies/rivals to lovers, lots of smut)

intrinsic warmth by thatdesklamp (angst, childhood friends to lovers)(yeah...)

Cursed Love by maespaces (angst, reader is a not a jujutsu sorcerer )(i forgot to add this!😭😭😭 but srsly tho rllylove this one, vry well written! im still reading it but u can tell ure in for a bumpy ride🥹)

Oneshots

Grey Cashmere by vagabond-umlaut (angst with a happy end, set during hidden inventory, reader is in the same year as sashisu)(one of my all time faves!!! its also part of a series but can be read as a standalone!)

an unwanted letter by piichuu (angst, post ch 236?ig?)(i read this during class... i just hope my classmates didnt see me cry)

Others. (I have not read this yet but ive been keeping an eye on it! Thought i might share as well)

Infidelity by tawus (angst, gojo and reader are married)

one day, three autumns by vagabond-umlaut (arranged marriage)

Minazuki by quirklessidiot (enemies to lovers, arranged marriage)

Devoted by aerinth (angst, friends to lovers)(also a geto/reader)

the color yellow by rhydonium (angst, hanahaki disease)(also a geto/reader)

Bonus!

Abalone on the shore by unolvrs (I dont rlly read much toji fics but this one made me sob on a morning! You'll need tissues for this one ig...😞)

#i wrote this one at 4 am so if theres anything wrong with the links pls do tell! #theres actually a lot more but i forgot some of the tittle.... :( #can u tell that i love arranged marriage with gojo? lmaooo #writing this instead of writing my essay... #fic recs #gojo x reader #yuna.incs #angst lots of angst #only listed enemies/rivals/lovers and angsts here

[honeyinapot]

literally drafting up a gojo fic after being on writers block for so long bc I read intrinsic(?) warmth by thatdesklamp (highly recommend btw the trajectory of my life has been fundamentally changed) on ao3 and it is so SO fucking good I need a book club for it BAD

#gojo satoru #ao3 fanfic #intrinsic warmth needs a tag bc omfg #megumi my son

[stellamancer]

FUCK THERE IT IS. BUT I'M SO CLOSE I'M SO FUCKING CLOSE I'M GONNA SCREAM.

#nikuniku fic spam #i knew another chapter of intrinsic warmth was dropping soon #so i wanted to finish fall apart before that happened