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#love my gender baby

twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 6 months

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you are somebody that i want to keep ; satoru gojo

synopsis; you aren't sure what you have with satoru gojo, but you know that it’s good.

word count; 6.7k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, colleagues to friends to something unlabelled, you love each other though!!, fluff, hurt/comfort, very very soft, reader falls first but gojo falls harder, both of u are afraid of intimacy lol, a lil angsty if u squint, satoru gojo cherishing u for ~7k words straight <33

a/n; basically just a collection of moments between you and gojo throughout the years <33 (a significant amount of time has passed between each part!!) hes an emotionally repressed loser but i love him and he is smitten w u.

in the soft luminescence of daybreak, your kitchen looks something like a dream.

tainted with a hazy sunshine, simmering with warm colours and pleasant scents, it almost seems to sparkle in the peripheral of your vision. brimming with that feeling of home, a home you’ve broken your bones building, desperate to shape it into something safe — and you think you’ve done a pretty good job.

it’s soothing, comforting, all of these sensations. bleeding into each other like smudges of paint on a canvas; hyacinths blooming by the windowsill, espresso-flavored steam wafting up to the roof, soft meows stemming from the cats by your feet. absolute bliss.

indulging in a peace yet to be shattered by the strain of the working world, you rub the sleep from beneath your weary eyes. blinking and yawning like a drowsy child.

beyond the translucent glass of your windows, glimmering with the light of a sun soon to rise, the world is painted pink and indigo — save for that one hint of gold, a streak of honey slathered across the surface of the sky. fluffy clouds drift through the chilly air, melting in the wake of a new day, and you think they look a little like tufts of cotton candy. soft enough to sink your teeth into, if only the glass wasn’t in the way. keeping the cold out.

it’s a new day. a pleasant morning, sitting comfortably on the brink of dawn, before the city has a chance to rouse from its slumber.

a kind of solitude you so rarely get to bask in.

a false solitude, really. because, for once, there’s another human being in your home — one you don’t know nearly as well as you’d like, for him to be fast asleep on your couch, cheek smushed against the leather. snoring softly.

satoru gojo.

like this, he looks very… human. vulnerable. hair just slightly tousled, from tossing and turning on your not-so-comfortable couch, blindfold only covering one of his eyes and close to slipping off entirely. his expression has melted into one of something vaguely resembling relaxation, as close to unguarded as you assume he can physically get.

even in his sleep, he looks a little stiff. not entirely at peace; like a stray cat sleeping under the hood of a car.

(you’re curious. fascinated, maybe, by the loneliness that clings to the strongest person in the universe. by the paradoxical innocence of his grin.)

honestly, everything from last night is kind of a blur. you remember accompanying the strongest sorcerer on a mission, one long enough to leave you completely and utterly spent, fatigue nestled deep into your bones. remember gojo getting a sudden migraine, so earth-shattering that you thought he was going to keel over and throw up in the middle of the street.

then you remember bringing him back home with you. very hesitantly, only after he begrudgingly accepted the fact that he didn’t have much of a choice. because you were fucking exhausted, and so was he, and your apartment happened to be conveniently close. you remember him practically passing out on your couch, still somehow managing to crack a bad joke you can’t recall, while you went to collapse into the comfort of your bed.

and now you’re here. dyed in half-transparent sunbeams, caffeine bubbling in your veins, gazing at your sleeping coworker from your spot by the kitchen table. waiting for the world to open its weary eyes.

it’s still early. some part of you expects him to sleep a while longer, but you can’t say you’re particularly surprised when gojo begins to stir.

a splotch of sunshine splatters across your living room window, staining the floorboards, falling over the contours of his pretty face. in the light, he looks positively holy; white lashes, pale skin, plump lips. like a goddess.

when he opens his eyes, it’s even worse. a single iris cracked open, pooling with unbridled brilliance. eyes so blue they seem to cut through the stillness of the air.

(— and the world wakes up.)

a little groan slips from his lips, barely audible. with groggy movements, he brings a hand up to his face, obscuring the grating light of the sun flitting in. you think you can almost see the gears of his mind turn, as he takes notice of his surroundings, remembering what transpired just hours before.

faster than you thought, he regains some semblance of composure. huffing under his breath, as he forces himself into a sitting position.

it feels a little wrong, to see the closest thing this world has to a god act so human. be so human. morning-fatigued, just like you, wearing droopy eyelids and a soft, sleepy pout. a little disheveled. groggy with lost dreams.

when his gaze meets yours, you can’t control the breath that hitches pitifully in the back of your throat. a meek skip of your heartbeat, like you just saw something you shouldn’t have. oops.

gojo cracks a grin.

“.. watchin’ me sleep?” he calls out, cheeky. paired with a drowsy yawn. composed, unbothered, but there’s something almost performative about it, something you’re sure you’d miss if he wasn’t still in the process of collecting himself.

“good morning,” is all you offer him. ignoring his teasing remark. he doesn’t push it, to your surprise. “sleep well?”

a hum. absentminded, jovial. one of his large hands goes to adjust his blindfold, the other to fluff up his hair. kicking off the blanket you just barely had the energy to throw over him last night. your fluffiest one, warm enough to protect him from the chill gnawing at the windows. hopefully.

“like a log,” he quips, stretching idly, muscles straining under his baggy uniform. they must be sore, after that mission. or maybe he’s above such things.

choosing not to comment on his obvious lie, you put your lips against the ceramic of your cup. sipping from the bitter brew, a tinge of hazelnut on your tongue. letting him gather his bearings without you scrutinizing him. a little favor, one liar to another.

“thanks for letting me crash,” he grins, lazy. toothy. stumbling to his feet with a low groan, gaze flitting around the room — looking for the exit. “i’ll get outta your hair,” he mutters, and you raise a brow.

“not staying for breakfast?”

gojo stills. your question rings out, bouncing off the walls of the kitchen, into the living room.

his smile twitches, ever so slightly, in what you think must be surprise. then it’s back to normal; like putting on a mask, not allowing a sliver of weakness to slip through the cracks. he exhales a raspy chuckle, a sound that flows through the air and crawls down your spine.

”generous, aren’t you?” he hums, voice rich with amusement. dappling sunlight licks at the white locks of his hair.

you shrug. “i wouldn’t mind the company.”

the words climb up the walls of your throat, a little reckless, eager to catch a glimpse of the miracle before you. satoru gojo, framed by the simplicity of your home — somewhat hard to let go of. sunkissed skin, restless hands. a little out of tune. shifting from foot to foot, eager to get away.

(a little like a frightened fawn, you amuse yourself by thinking. he’s really more like the fox who scared it.)

you think he must be bit uncomfortable. forced to spend the night in a coworker’s apartment, one he doesn't even know that well, one he probably doesn’t have any intention of getting to know. still trying to politely excuse himself. persistent, stubborn.

maybe he didn’t expect this. maybe he was convinced he could sneak away, before you had a chance to wake up. maybe he thought you’d be all too eager to let him leave, and never speak of this again. maybe he’s not used to being wanted.

“ha… i’m flattered, believe me, but —“

“what do you usually eat?” you ask. cutting him off, gently, tapping your fingertips against the edge of the table. “for breakfast, i mean. i’ll whip something up.”

a chuckle slips from his lips. you can’t put your finger on it, but something about it bothers you. “really, there’s —“

“if you’re worried about inconveniencing me, don’t be.” you pause, unsure of what to say. but the words end up spilling out of your throat, oddly honest. ”it’s been a while since i had the chance to make breakfast for someone else.”

it’s strange, really, how intent you are on seeing this through. how much effort you’re putting into making him stay. you barely even know him. actually, you don’t know him at all — all you know is that his smile makes you happy and his strength makes you envious. that you aren’t afraid of him, even though you probably should be.

something about him just feels safe.

“i’m pretty good at making pancakes,” you hum, a small smile playing at your lips. polite, jovial. pale light flits in through the window and slips into its curve. ”do you want some? before we go to work.”

(something in his fingers twitch, when you say that tiny word; pancakes. a little tell. you just barely catch it, before it sputters out. before he reels it back in.)

a moment passes. slow, drawn out, a rubber band bound to snap.

gojo stands there, a very subtle contemplation etched into his features. behind him, your cats begin to scratch at the couch, but you don’t scold them. just waiting for something to happen. beyond the glass of your windows, the sun unfurls in the sky, stretching its arms to envelop the world.

he grins, suddenly. soft light reflecting off the white of his teeth. cocky, composed. not quite performative, a little more natural.

“well, if you insist.”

he strolls over to your side, just a tiny bit sluggish, lazy steps and comically long limbs. he must still be tired. but he takes a seat, right across from you, plopping down on the chair with an effortless air of confidence. lighthearted, leaning his elbows on the table, crossing his legs under it. comfortable. settling into his role.

you’re pleasantly surprised.

“how would you like them?” you ask, and you think some of your excitement may have spilled out with the question. if it did, gojo doesn’t comment on it. ”your pancakes.”

“with chocolate chips, please!” he shoots you a sweet smile. “and whipped cream on top.”

so demanding. for some reason, it makes the corners of your lips quirk up. kinda like a bratty younger brother.

“got it.”

the smell of dark chocolate hangs heavy in the air as you get to work, shuffling around the open space. all while gojo waits, patiently, tapping his foot under the table and staring out the window. leaning his jaw on the heel of his palm. listening to the humming of nightingales on the branches of the apple tree down on the ground, and the buzz of your old radio.

the kitchen fills with motion, sounds, smells. life. splotches of sunlight, crinkled cartons of orange juice. the clinking of plates. two tired adults, seated at the same table, indulging in a fleeting peace and the promise of something new. something almost concrete.

a small, precious moment. enough to make your fascination shift into something you know must be fondness. or close to it.

gojo grins at you, mouth full of pancakes, eagerly telling you about something the kids did last week. wolfing them down, chocolate smeared over his bottom lip. you laugh, and suddenly the world feels a little safer than it should. a little more intact.

you wonder what it means. where it’s going to lead. this feeling of something wonderful beginning, something you couldn’t stop if you wanted to.

a budding connection.

the city lays blanketed beneath a layer of thick snow. blurry pale dots dancing in the wind, obscuring the sky, frost engulfing every building in a bone chilling hug.

with a slight shiver, you dig your hands into the comfort of your pockets, seeking the fleeting warmth you find. admiring the frozen landscape before you, the hustle and bustle of people going about their day. the saffron light of the lamp posts, the glittering snow by your feet, the skeletal apricot trees and their bare branches. this monochrome city you find yourself in.

gojo exhales. strolling cheerily down the street, in tandem with you, a frosty breath to your left that scatters and melts into the open air. it smells minty.

today, he’s wearing black shades — like he usually is when you meet outside of work. it’s kind of nice. when you angle your face a certain way, you can almost see the blue pooling in his eyes, the white of his eyelashes.

he’s beautiful. he always has been. but like this, you think his beauty is simply unfair, highlighted by the winter wonderland you find yourselves in. mesmerizing, the red flush of his cheeks, how he hums along to some jolly tune playing from a little corner store further down the street. all bundled up, in a stylish overcoat and a nice scarf, untouched by the snowflakes fluttering about.

protected by his infinity, always. the silly god you call a friend.

he looks content, despite the cold that keeps nipping at your bare skin, smiling widely. blabbing on about the movie you’re about to watch, how he saw it back in high school but never thought it’d get a remake. how his friend thought it sucked but that friend always had bad taste so his opinion is irrelevant. how he has faith that you’ll like it.

(cute.)

distracted by the pretty man so close by, close enough to touch, you don’t look ahead. maybe just a little bit entranced. which would be fine, if you didn’t happen to be walking on the right side of the street —

crashing straight into a lamp post.

”owch!”

it’s sudden. and it’s a harsh collision, enough to leave your nose stinging, an ache that makes you whine. cursing under your breath as you take a couple steps back, hands reaching for the part of your face that took the brunt of the hit.

and gosh, is this embarrassing. you dance on the edge of death for a living, and here you are — whining over walking into a fucking lamp post. because you were too enamored by the beauty of your own coworker to pay attention to your surroundings.

a coworker who is currently looking at you, silently. having failed to warn you in time, stuck in his own memories, caught up in his in-depth, spoiler-filled review of a movie he’s been waiting to watch all week.

for a moment, all he does is blink. long eyelashes fluttering, like a dove flapping its wings.

then he starts laughing.

scratch that — gojo is downright cackling, thoroughly amused by your clumsy mishap, like he just saw the funniest thing in the world. laughter ringing out into the cold air, white breaths to compliment the red of your burning ears.

asshole.

with a harsh furrow of your brows, you attempt to look angry; but before long, your lips are curling up. infected by his joy. a soft punch to his shoulder is all you manage, biting back a little puff of laughter. you’re embarrassed.

(so embarrassed you don’t even notice how he puts his infinity down.)

”don’t laugh, you piece of shit!” you hiss, grinning even still, flushing and trying to ignore the curious glances you get from passersby. ”it really hurt!”

but gojo doesn’t stop. doesn’t even attempt to. you think he just grew even more amused, if anything, practically bending over from how hard he’s laughing — clutching his stomach.

”sorry, sorry — ’m just…” he tries to speak, taking deep breaths in between bursts of giggles. ”how the hell — how’d you —”

he stops trying. laughing, again.

and it’s a genuine laugh. a little wolfish, spilling out from his pretty parted lips, showing off his sharp teeth. from the very bottom of his gut, clear and bright, deep and infectious. melodic. shades close to slipping off the bridge of his nose, eyes tearing up behind them. trying to collect himself, muffled giggles turning to soft vapour in the cold air. dimples visible on his rosy cheeks.

and suddenly you can't think, can't speak, can only look at him and wonder how a human can be so very beautiful. how it’s metaphysically possible. like a crushed cluster of stars was given human form, a body of celestial light.

he looks so young, like this. a millenia younger, no weight on those broad shoulders, no immovable wall to separate you both. he looks like one of the guys you used to hang out with in middle school, running through corridors and play fighting and holding back shared laughter in the library. before the bite of the world left a mark in your skin.

he looks like himself. like someone pulled the mask off, and all that’s left is the human. none of the godhood he was saddled with at birth.

while you’re busy staring, gojo finally finds his composure again. wiping at his glassy eyes, a chuckle slipping out here and there. distracted by the breathtaking sight, you begin to forget the sting of your collision — until you feel something warm trickle down your chilled skin.

searching for it with the pads of your fingers, you feel a trail of wetness beneath your nose. and when you bring them down, to get a look, all you see is red.

”ah.”

gojo moves closer. maybe just a little alarmed, by the blood dripping from your nose, staining the white of the snow beneath your feet. a chilling contrast, one you’re frighteningly used to. it’s almost comforting. blood on your skin, that sting of pain clogging up your nose, enough for you to get lost in. colours melting together, memories rising to the surface —

when suddenly, something touches your cheek.

one large hand goes to keep your jaw in place, gentle. smooth leather, sneaking under your chin, lifting your face up ever so slightly. warmth trickles from his fingertips through the fabric, and you can smell a hint of his perfume. strawberries and vanilla.

gojo looks at you fondly. wiping the blood from your nose, smudging his expensive gloves. from this angle, you can see his eyes, a blue shimmer in an evening painted white and gray — the sole flicker of colour in this monochrome city. they’re crinkled at the edges.

he looks awfully amused.

(you stay still, not breathing, like any slight motion could have him pulling away.)

”careful,” he croons. so low you barely hear it, almost a purr. the word has a soft underbelly, something you don’t need to dissect to feel.

a sentiment that seems to simmer in the air around you, drifting past the little corner store, a dog tied to a lamp post, your reddened cheeks. past the blue of his eyes, a peripheral that stretches to cover the city before you. words too heavy to speak aloud.

stay safe for me, silly.

then he’s letting go. sudden, the bite of the air replacing his hand. it lingers on your skin, like a memory, like the ghost of a memory. but it’s there. strawberries and vanilla, leather and warmth. something kind. warm.

and it stays there, even as gojo takes a step forward, no longer facing you. walking confidently, the wind bending around his tall stature. long legs and large steps, leaving an imprint in the snow for you to follow. a northern star.

he turns his head, and grins. hair tousled by the breeze, white locks glittering with snowflakes. ”you coming? it’s starting soon.”

a moment passes.

”or do you need me to call shoko?”

you puff out a breathy laugh, at that, stumbling forward. reaching up to wipe more of the blood sticking to your skin. sniffling, but smiling, teeth peeking out between your lips.

”yeah, yeah,” a roll of your eyes. ”’m right behind you.”

gojo’s eyes crinkle, disappearing behind his shades when he straightens his back and raises his head. moving forward, while you follow; his back turned to you, snowy hair melting into the white all around you. like something out of a painting.

with a pep in step, you catch up to him. eager to hear more of his voice, his memories. still basking in the warmth of his hand on your jaw.

a touch from the untouchable.

gojo’s lying on your couch.

he usually is, to be fair, so it shouldn’t be surprising. kicking his legs up, watching tv — or sleeping, snoring loudly, like the couch belongs to him. like your home belongs to him. like he pays rent, and doesn’t just laze around and devour all the sweets in your kitchen cabinets.

(he’s there so often that you’re starting to wonder if you should give him a copy of your keys, or something. but you have a feeling that’d be just a smidge too intimate for him to ever accept.)

this time, however, gojo is doing neither of those things.

he’s on your couch, but he isn’t manspreading, or draping himself over the leather with a lazy grin. he doesn’t have that air of effortless confidence. and it’s palpable, in the air, the open space, enough that you can feel it. an itch on your skin, a lump in your throat. you could practically feel it as soon as you walked through the door.

he isn’t wearing his blindfold, or his shades. he isn’t even smiling. and gojo is always, always smiling.

you think he might be having a rough day.

even the cats are noticing that something’s off. jumping up in his lap, trying to comfort him, brushing against his legs. purring, when he cradles them close — always so gentle with them. hands petting down their backs, softly, the same hands he uses to rip out the throats of curses and curse users alike.

then they mewl and run away. and for once you wish they wouldn’t, wish they could keep clinging to him like they always do. just to make him feel better. right now, in the state he’s in, you wouldn’t even mind gojo’s usual smug declarations of how does it feel to know they like their papa best?

you can’t help but feel unsure of yourself. gojo isn’t doing anything, and he isn’t saying anything. he’s just lying there, on his back, eyes closed. letting the darkness of the room engulf him. drowning in his own thoughts.

he must know that you’re there. he must have heard you come in. but he isn’t saying anything, and you wonder if that means he wants you to leave him alone.

you’re reminded of that one morning. when he woke up on your couch, and looked more human than you’d ever seen him. how you wanted to avert your eyes, how wrong it felt to see a god rouse from its slumber.

(but you know better now.)

hesitantly, you begin to inch closer, step by step. quiet, floorboards barely creaking beneath your weight. tentative, as you settle down on the couch. brushing against the infinity between you.

gojo’s eyes flicker open. like an old tape beginning to play. they still shine with that same brilliance, they always do, but now you think they look just a little dull. a little red.

a moment passes. agonizingly slow.

before you can properly think it through, you’ve done it. almost on instinct, jumping the gun before he has the chance to cover everything up with jokes and laughter. opening your arms; a silent invitation.

gojo only stares.

his gaze moves down to your outstretched arms, and then up to your face. your pursed lips, nervous eyes, worried crease between your brows. one second passes. two, five. you stop counting.

for a moment, you’re almost certain that he’s about to get up and leave. that he’ll flash you a smile that doesn't reach his eyes, walk out the door and then never return. like you flew too close to the sun, just another icarus too mesmerized by the glow of his grin to notice your melting wings. like you stepped over the fragile line that separates his bones from yours, his heartbeat from your greedy hands.

— but then he sluggishly gets into a sitting position, and doesn't look at you.

when gojo collapses into your embrace, you’re so surprised that you almost forget how to breathe. almost forget your own name, forget whose home you’re in, why your arms are wrapped around a pale man. all you can think of is how warm he feels, how he’s like a weighted blanket against you. how he trusts you enough to come so very close.

cheek pressed against your chest, arms loose around your waist. no infinity, no barriers. just a single touch shared between two damaged human beings.

a brief inhale gives you the composure that you need. air flowing into your lungs, your brain, as you settle into a comfortable position. no words leave your lips; you just continue to hold him, one hand on his back, testing the waters. letting him hear the echo of your heartbeat. unsure, the both of you, but something about this feels right. close to right. almost there.

gojo is stiff. when you strain your ears, you hear a sharp intake of breath, and a full body shiver courses through him. a tremble of his spine. like he’s itching to run, like he doesn’t quite know where to put his hands. so painfully unused to a proper embrace.

(a little like a frightened fawn.)

a tender something unfurls within your chest, and you feel almost devoured by the fondness rooting itself into your beating heart. delicate, as you begin to brush away his tousled bangs, leaning close. pressing a kiss to his forehead, glistening with sweat. letting your lips linger on his skin.

he’s pale, shining in the bleak moonlight cast from the translucent curtains of your living room windows. pale like a ghost. and there are dark crescents beneath his dull eyes.

nightmares, you surmise. they haunt him too, don’t they? of course they do.

eyes brimming with emotion, you gaze at him; quiet as a mouse, closing his eyes. leaning into your touch, ever so slightly, breathing out a sigh tinged with pure exhaustion. and a certain realization washes over you, akin to a tidal wave, sudden and inevitable. so obvious it’s funny.

you’re not a god at all, are you?

a coo slips from your lips. barely a sound, more like a soothing breath. warm against his cold skin.

you’re just like everyone else. just as fragile.

one of your thumbs goes to smooth over the puffy skin beneath his eyes. so, so gentle. like one wrong touch could have him crumbling into little grains of stardust, spilling out over the worn leather of your couch.

there are so many things you wish you could say to him. so many things you’ll never be able to say, because you’re afraid that if you give him too much it’ll scare him off. like love could burn him if it were to leak out too fervently. like it’s burned him before.

so you don’t say anything. but you think it, you repeat it inside your mind like a prayer, and some part of you thinks that’s enough. i’ve got you — a whisper that you don't dare to voice.

one gojo still manages to hear, somehow, if the way he tugs you closer and snuggles into your neck is anything to go by. a shaky exhale brushing against your collarbone.

(if you feel something wet touch the skin of your shoulder, you don’t mention it.)

you simply hold him, and don’t even think the thought of letting go. even though it takes him hours just to fall asleep, hours you spend anxiously wondering if he’ll change his mind and pull away. but he doesn't leave, even though his body may want him to, and that's enough, and you don’t let go. not even once. he stays cradled to your chest the same way you’d hold a tiny puppy, something fragile. something you need to handle with care.

and when his heartbeat finally mellows out, when you hear little barely audible snores flow from his lips, you finally begin to relax. melting into the couch beneath you, watching him get the rest he deserves. praying that any nightmares of his will be given to you instead.

sleep comes, eventually, to the both of you. tangled up on the couch, him on top of you, comforted by the flutter of each other’s heartbeat. by the warmth of another human being. safe in each other’s arms.

(the next morning, through hazy sunshine and the clinking of coffee cups, he teasingly tells you that just satoru is fine.)

it’s barely daybreak when satoru wakes you up.

a rude awakening, to say the least. he pulls out all the stops, intent on not letting you sleep even a second longer; poking at your cheek, pinching them when that doesn’t work. tickling you, blowing cold air into your ear, flopping down on top of you like a big dog. anything to rouse you from your deep slumber.

and he just will not give it up. no matter how hard you try to ignore him, no matter how many times you swat him away with your duvet pillow or turn to bury your face into the sheets. that’s how satoru always is, how he’s always been, how he hopefully always will be — an absolute pain. one you wouldn’t trade for anything else in the world.

so, when he starts whining for you to just wake up already, voice tinged with a sadness that tugs at your heartstrings, you find yourself opening your tired eyes. all while he murmurs on and on about something unintelligible, still trying to bribe you.

”i’ll make you coffee, okay? just get up. c’moooon.”

”… what time is it, satoru?” is all you mutter, voice leaving your lips in a raspy, disgruntled fashion. stirring a little at the promise of coffee.

he cracks a grin. ”don’t worry about it! just come with me.”

despite your grumpy attitude, and the ungodly hour at which satoru shakes you awake, you find yourself letting him scoop you up and set you down on the kitchen counter. placing a hot cup of coffee in your hands, made just the way you like it, before grinning mischievously in a way that has you feeling ill at ease.

and ten minutes later, you find yourself on top of a hill. overlooking the woods, and a big lake below you, no city lights visible no matter where you turn — god knows where he’s taken you, but it’s pretty.

breathtaking, even. all frost and wildlife and peace, sweet solitude, tiny flowers blooming on the patches of grass around you. a murder of crows takes flight in the distance, scattering into the indigo of the sky.

gojo grins, boyish and bright, excited breaths turning into vapour as he speaks. awfully proud of himself.

”i can’t take you on vacation, but —”

he drags you with him, arm looped around your own, plopping down on the ground. not before taking off his jacket, to cover the ground beneath you. grass tickles the skin of your palms, as you comfortably spread your legs, making sure to sit as close to him as possible.

and your heart softens a little.

because he’s mentioned it, before; how it’d be nice to go on a road trip, someday, just the two of you. all around the world, wherever the wind takes you. basking in that feeling of freedom. it’s no more than a fever dream, though, with how busy satoru is, the responsibilities you both shoulder.

so this’ll have to do. that’s probably what he’s thinking.

”the sun’ll rise soon. it’ll be pretty, i promise,” he beams, so close that you feel his warm breath on your skin. that you can see the dimples on his cheeks, his barely visible freckles.

”oh, so that’s why you woke me up so early.”

his smile widens. ”nice, right? i wanted to surprise you. d’you like it?”

a smile blooms on your lips, in tandem with his, honeyed and content. indulgent. gojo looks at it, and immediately knows your answer.

”yeah. it’s really pretty out here,” you face forward, taking a deep breath, fresh morning air entering your lungs. cool and crisp, stirring your sleepy mind. ”kinda nostalgic.”

satoru hums, and follows your lead. looking ahead, admiring the beauty of an empty world.

the big lake looks like a mirror, from here, glittering in the peripheral of your vision. the sun licks at the frozen sky, not quite breaking through, not entirely ready to rise — but it paints everything a rusty gold and you can almost feel spring shining through, taste it on your tongue, that promise of something better, something more concrete. a warmth you don’t have to question.

a warmth that’ll stay with you for a long time to come.

it takes about ten seconds for the man by your side to start speaking, again, shattering the peaceful silence. but you don’t mind. his voice is nice, a mellow melody to your morning-fatigued brain.

side by side, you wait for the sun to rise. sharing hushed whispers and laughter, like two kids having a sleepover. like nothing exists but the space that cocoons you, wraps you up in a nostalgia so palpable the entire world feels like a fond memory.

(it makes you feel a millenia younger.)

satoru giggles like a child, telling you about something shoko said, or something megumi did, and you don’t miss a single word that spills from his glossy lips. hanging on to every word he’s willing to give to you.

he looks so unbothered, like this. eyes crinkling, humming some tune you don’t recognize, like a little nightingale ready to take flight into the skies.

you part your lips, admiring his features. every patch of skin you can see. words making themselves manifest, hungry to see inside his brain, to know more about him. a fascination that’s never quite left you — though now you think it may be better described as love. ”hey, satoru?”

at the sound of his name, he turns to you. the weight of his eyes feels so light, like this. those blessed eyes staring into yours. he tilts his head, a smile playing at his lips. ”mm?”

”if you could go anywhere you wanted, where would you be right now?”

satoru blinks.

he looks at you, a mild surprise flitting through the lines of his face, as he takes you in. measures the weight of your words.

then he smiles, again. lopsided, almost a smirk, rich with amusement. a hum buzzes in his throat, like a butterfly itching to break out.

”.. you teasing me?”

a huff fills the air. ”it’s a genuine question!” you insist, moving your leg to nudge his own. ”c’mon. anywhere in the world. i’m just curious.”

another hum. he narrows his eyes, playfully, biting at the inside of his cheek to hold back a chuckle when that makes you grumble. pouting softly, tilting your head. he’s amused, you can tell.

but he closes his eyes, lashes fluttering, glimmering with morning dew. and you can tell he’s taking you seriously. tasting the question on his tongue.

something shines in his eyes, when he opens them again; crinkling at the corners, soft lines of crows’ feet. you can almost see that burst of aquamarine, breaking through the black glass of his shades. like the laws of physics can’t contain it. and he smiles, as always, a smile so beautiful you wish you could live on the curve of his lips. flimsy, no teeth peeking out, no dimples to admire. but sweet. slathered with honey, as sincere as can be.

his voice comes out a little raspy, tainted with a tinge of fatigue, a smokey residue that sticks to the walls of his throat. but it's genuine, like he just woke up, like he's too sleepy to be dishonest. like every word he says can be no more or less than the absolute truth.

and when he turns to face you, tilting his head enough for you to see that shade of blue you love so dearly, his eyes shine with an honestly so palpable you feel like you’re being devoured.

satoru parts his lips.

”right next to you.”

a moment passes. silent, endless, no sound to be heard but the beating of your own heart.

at last, the sun breaks through that layer of frost, peeking up from the boundary of the world — and the morning begins to thaw. streaks of sunlight cascade down the contours of his handsome face, painting him a mellow gold, and it’s almost enough to distract you from the warmth of his hand finding yours.

for a moment, satoru looks unsure. smile shifting in the light, into something slightly stiff, and you know that means he's nervous. silent, as he wets his glossy lips. pink tongue tasting strawberry chapstick.

then he’s leaning forward.

it’s chaste, the kiss he plants on your forehead, soft as the flutter of a butterfly’s wings. but it lingers, even after he’s pulled back — a warmth on your skin. a silent declaration.

he doesn't have to say anything. when you look up at him you can see the red flush of his ears, and when you strain your ears you can hear all those unspoken whispers. the sentiment neither of you will ever have to say out loud, because you know. it’s there. and it means everything.

and you know that for as long as you live, you’ll both have this. one single thread of normalcy, in your unorthodox existences, one single glimmer of something almost entirely good. something that heals, something that isn’t a blessing and a curse all in one. something soft to the touch.

there’s no need to find the right words for it. there never was.

”kinda looks like melted ice cream.”

the words pull you out of your stupor. satoru’s looking at the sky, and you follow his gaze, watching the sunrise in tandem with him.

it’s beautiful. soft clouds melting into pinks and oranges, dappling sunbeams lapping at the trees, a saffron shade washing over the empty world in front of you. a world that may not be so empty, after all, because you hear crows in the distance, and someone’s fishing by the lake, and you think you spot a squirrel in the tree closest to you.

and you have someone, right next to you, right by your side. someone who won’t ever leave.

sometimes, loving satoru gojo feels a little like strolling on the edge of a cliff. like one wrong step could have you tumbling down, a mess of broken bones and unspoken words. but if you do stumble and fall — you know he’ll be waiting at the bottom of the precipice. arms outstretched, wearing that same innocent grin, ready to hoist you both back up.

so you know it’ll be fine.

swallowing down a bout of fresh laughter, like a flower unfurling in your chest, petals brushing against your ribcage, you give in. opting to bask in the moment, in his presence.

”yeah,” you puff out a chuckle, head slumping against satoru’s shoulder. he makes a little noise of approval, and your grin grows. ”it does.”

he doesn’t say anything. smiling, wordlessly, admiring the way the sun kisses up your collarbone. lighting up your face. and you bask in his warmth, how right it feels to be tucked into his side. how safe he feels, even now. how safe you make him feel.

you look at the man to your left, and he looks back at you, and that wonderful unnamed something unfurls inside your chest again. and, without having to speak it aloud, you know it will continue to do so.

many, many years later, he’ll still be satoru, and you’ll still be you. the distance between you will be what it always was; breachable.

and that will be enough.

#someone sedate me i giggled while writing this. im so in love w this stupid weasel #this is rly just my attempt at writing a more canon-aligned gojo and the kinda-sorta relationship i could see him having in canon #i firmly believe that he’d feel most at peace w a love that sits somewhere right between platonic n romantic !!#”me n the bestie <3” (selfie of u wearing matching rings)#its the kinda love that u dont need to label bc its just There. its just love !! a love that comes easy #im happy w how this particular gojo turned out i think!! :'3 hes my lil baby #in other news hes so bambi coded ☹️ i need to nurse him back to health #listen to capable of love by pinkpantheress btw its so gojo to me #jjk x reader #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jjk fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x gender neutral reader #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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ca-8 · 3 months

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"Thank You, Angel..." (Part 1 of ???)

Silence screamed.

Drops of decay either echoed in the distance or fell inches from his withered nose. They aided in the cackles and chirps and growls that erupted from within each shadow. Each shadow that held home of the little critters with those little desperate, famished white eyes and wide toothless grins ready to devour anything with even a hint of a pulse. And when those critters couldn't stand the empty pits of their stomachs, those cackles and chirps and growls and drops of decay sang along with the tormenting squelches and tears of his miserly flesh ripping off and into those widened, toothless grins. And when they were done, after hours of slow, burning agony and screaming filling their stomachs, and the decay hushed to sleep as those horrible little critters scurried off toward their master -

silence screamed.

DogDay hated it all. He hated each sound of falling wood or concrete or spare intestine hitting the floor. He despised the critter's sounds as they drew near. But most of all, he hated the silence, because it was a constant reminder that his friends were gone and no hope gave a breath.

All alone. Always alone. With nothing but a wonder as to when he would finally draw his last breath.

Poppy's words once gave him back a lifelike glimmer. She speculated that someone had to come back here to save them all, an ex-worker, a total stranger -

an Angel, perhaps.

Just someone, anyone who can release them of this constant, lingering, rotting despair.

But so much time has passed. DogDay lost count at…he didn't even know, it's just been years and years and years, perhaps even decades. An eternity of this sickening silence since the day their revolutionary feast took place.

That glimmer was smothered out long ago.

Were those footsteps?

Not the little pitter-patter of those godforsaken critters, no - human footsteps. They were distant, but carefully drew near. As they closed the distance, a shriek from those little monsters echoed throughout the prison.

DogDay's head perked up, but only slightly. If he had a little more energy he'd call out for help, and more certainty too. Maybe he was finally going mad. Maybe what's left inside his head is feeding him false hope with these made up sounds hinting to a rescue.

No, not a rescue. Whatever he had left was drowned in the past.

His head slumped back down, and critter's shrieks halted. But the footsteps grew closer. DogDay didn't want to remove his gaze from the floor and risk disappointment, he knew it was nothing, that even if someone managed to sneak in here, there was no way they would survive this hell. He knew that thing was right, no one was coming to save-

"Oooooh nooo…"

His head sprung up, earning a little gasp from a

a human. An actual human, standing right there in front of him. It - They - couldn't be a hallucination, could it?

No. No hallucination. No human either. With how those lights beamed down on their glowing, moving skin and illuminating the life in those eyes, this was a blessing from Above. "Hello…?"

DogDay realized they were inching closer, but he was too stunned to flinch or tell them to get away. He could only voice his stagger.

"You…You're Poppy's Angel," he choked out through his voice box. "Come to save us…!"

The Angel blinked. "Uh, yeah…" Their eyes were widened; no surprise, anyone not too familiar with this decrepit place would be shocked to see him like this. A pathetic, filthy excuse of a dog wasting away. That's what they were thinking. They had to be. "Nothing left to save, not here…" He held his head back down.

"What're you talking about?" Their voice was as sweet as honey, so filled with life.

"You're in CatNap's home, Angel. Their home." Just saying that thing's name left a disgusting bittersweet taste in DogDay's mouth, but he was given a second chance at being useful, he had to take it.

"A million of pairs of eyes are on you right now," he continued. "Watching…waiting….hungry." A faint spark of terror flooded the (e/c) in those beautiful, breathing eyes. "They want nothing more than to crawl beneath your skin and eat away at you bit by little bit." He spat out the last word before heaving in a gasp. "…fill what feels empty inside themselves."

"I-Is that…what happened to you, DogDay….?" they asked, eyeing the bitter remains of his lower half.

They knew his name. He appreciated that, although couldn't express it too much. "I'm afraid so, Angel. Because of…that…that thing. CatNap. The Prototype is his god, and this is what he does to heretics."

The Angel snuck a glance at the darkened hallway outside their halo and quickly returned their gaze to DogDay. He continued.

"These little toys follow CatNap to avoid that very fate, and in return, they are fed." DogDay coughed. Black substance spewed out of his mouth and onto the floor. "We tried to fight it, the Prototype's control. I'm…the last of the smiling cri-"

His right arm fell to his side.

…Wait.

DogDay's ears bucked up and he turned to his side. His right arm dangled heavily right by his torso, and the belts that were supposed to be supporting it up to the ceiling were cut short. His gaze whirled to his left side and saw the Angel reaching up to cut off the other belts.

"Angel! Wh-Wh-What're you doing?" he frantically yelped, swinging his torso back and forth.

"Sorry to cut your speech-thing off so quickly, but I think we may have a problem!"

It was at that moment DogDay heard the heightening shrills and screeches from the critters. A sharp chill ran down him and his heart stopped. They were coming; so many were coming! Coming for him! He was about to die if they couldn't get away!

"Angel, please, go! Leave me! Save yourself!" he pleaded desperately. A growl erupted right next to his ear, and DogDay turned to come face-to-face with a miniature Bobby Bearhug. A scream almost escaped his throat until a small flare flew past his face and shot mini Bobby back into the darkness.

"I'm sorry, but could you stop moving so much? This is hard enough as it is!" As they said that, their knife (which he noticed was strangely colorfully patched together) cut through the first of the two left belts. His body darted right towards the floor, but not until Angel caught him with their arm.

"Angel PLEASE! I beg you!" Tears pricked his empty sockets. The shrills were so loud they might as well be on top of them.

But the Angel kept their gaze glued onto the last belt, and as soon as mini CraftyCorn entered the cell, he was finally free.

The Angel hopped down and kicked mini CraftyCorn back into DogDay's worst nightmare: a sea of predators mirroring his friend's appearances. The Angel spun around and ran the opposite direction.

"Don't worry, I got yo- OOOOOO-!!!" The floor collapsed beneath them, and they landed right onto the bottom floor. Well, more like the Angel fell right onto the floor with DogDay cushioned safely on top of them.

This couldn't possible get any worse.

DogDay tried turning his head. "Angel? Are you okay? I'm so sorry! I-I didn't mean it! I didn't mean for this to happen! I swear!" He wanted to get off of them to ease whatever pain they were in, but his arms were held up for so long, he could barely even feel anything in them anymore. 'Pathetic! I'm pathetic!'

"I'm fine…I think-!" The Angel got up and sprinted to the end of the hallway. "Just don't look back!"

They held DogDay in a position where his only option was to look back. Snuggled tightly underneath their arm, he watched as a tsunami of critters dashed towards them, snarling with hunger. Hunger for him and his Angel.

He whimpered loudly until they spun him around. "Sorry-! Sorry! I got you!" A flash of another critter was summoned to the right, then suddenly wished away by the bright flash of the Angel's flare. DogDay couldn't do anything, only let his heart squeeze and whimper at the sudden sight of painful reminders until they're blown away by the Angel. He looked up, their gaze was locked forward, doing what he should be doing.

But he couldn't. He was worthless. Just like that day.

The poor withered dog squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't watch anymore. If it weren't for his weak arms, he would cover his ears as the screams of the damned drew ever so near, or maybe do something actually useful. He felt himself get heaved up and a sudden wind blew against his tattered face. Then, he was lowered, and the Angel gasped for air.

Where were they going? Was there even an exit? He couldn't look. He didn't want to look. If he opened his eyes he would only see the Angel get devoured and it would be all his fault.

It wasn't until they were both thrusted into the air that his eyes were finally forced open. Below them was a deep pit of darkness with the critters nearing the edge they hurled over. For a second, he thought they had jumped towards an everlasting sleep, until the Angel landed right onto a lift.

The door shut behind them, and devastating shrills and shrieks were muffled. They were….safe. DogDay was safe, and the Angel didn't die. He hadn't killed them after all.

The Angel gently lowered him onto the floor of the lift and pressed the button to lower them back into, if he could remember correctly….Playcare. They collapsed onto the floor, and the thud snapped him back to reality.

"Angel! Are you okay? Are you hurt? I'm so sorry!" DogDay tried to haul himself towards them until they let out a strange chuckle.

"That…holy shit. That was awesome! But also terrifying. And tiring. God, my legs, I'll be surprised if I can even walk once we get down there. What were those things? You called them critters? I kinda feel bad for thinking they were kinda cute now, SHEESH those little devils were relentless!"

The Angel went on and on and on and…not a hint of anger was on their face. DogDay only stared at them in disbelief. They hopped on their knees and leaned closer to him, making him flinch.

"Anyways, are you okay? I don't know why you're asking me, you're clearly the one who needs help here! How long have you been down here? Actually don't answer that. What happened to you-? Wait, wait, don't answer that either, sorry!"

"You…." He finally choked out something. "You…saved me."

"…Well yeah!" A big smile graced their lips. How were they glowing even brighter than before?

"You…You saved me…!"

"….Yeah! Go team!"

Something was building up in his throat. More tears streamed down his face, but there weren't any rivers of regret or disappointment or self-hatred… DogDay leaned into his Angel's chest.

"Oh, hello!" they said cheerfully.

DogDay sniffed and looked up, and for once, a big, genuine smile filled his face. "Thank you, Angel…! Thank you so much!"

They froze there for a second, and their stunned expression melted to that of warmth. He felt their hands wrap around him and gently caress his back. Nothing could ever feel more soothing.

Softly, they giggled. "Hey, call me (Y/n), alright? You're giving me too much credit." ͙۪۪̥ ͙ ♡𐡘 𐡘 𐡘 𐡘♡ ͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙ ♡𐡘 𐡘 𐡘 𐡘♡ ͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙ ♡𐡘 𐡘 𐡘 𐡘♡ ͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙ ♡𐡘 𐡘 𐡘 𐡘♡ ͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙

Hey guys! Like what ya saw? Well you can commission your own private piece now!! Read more about that here! Thanks so much for reading, and have a great day!~ 💜💜💜

#dogday #dogday x reader #poppy's playtime #catnap #poppy playtime chapter 3 #canon x reader #x reader #fanfiction #wholesome #my baby #baby boy #i love this boi so much #we should've gotten the option to save him #and Im doing dogday because people have been saying he's in his mid 20s #I am not comfortable with the (big bodies) catnap x dogday ship y'all im sorry lmao #smiling critters #gender neutral y/n #open commissions #angst with a happy ending

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natsarrownecklacx · 1 year

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Babysitting Groot

*Y/n and Natasha babysitting Groot, introducing him to the team.*

Sam: “That’s a cute little guy. What do we call it?”

Y/n: “Groot? Eh, I don’t know actually. Hey Groot? Mr? Mrs? Eh, Mx?”

Baby groot: “I am Groot.”

Y/n: “Ah yes, my apologies your highness.” *Bows.*

Natasha: *Confused.* “What did they say?”

Y/n: “He said fuck gender, I am royalty.“

Natasha: *Gasping.* “Groot! No cursing, that’s bold.”

Sam: *Laughing.* “I like how you think, your highness.” *Bows.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #Natasha romanoff #Baby groot x reader #baby groot #Sam Wilson x platonic!Reader #Sam Wilson #In my mind groot is gender fluid and I love them for it

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sergle · 2 months

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what I was talking abt earlier. we have fully looped back around and away from feminism, societally, whereas before it was very Feminism 101 to acknowledge that many parts of existing as a woman in a misogynistic society are painful and upsetting. not that being a woman is Inherently Negative in a bubble. but that living on this earth, in the conditions we're living in, is hostile to women. and that gender is a performance. that many of the Staples Of Femininity as accepted by society are things that you have to create and perform and mold artificially and aren't inherent, that COMPLAINING about day to day difficulties of existing as a woman is something that you're allowed to do. acknowledging these basic, again, feminism 101 things, that something tied to womanhood is more time consuming or more expensive or more dangerous Because Of The Problems. does not CREATE the problems. that when women complain about having to perform femininity, they are not, in fact, oppressing themselves. the call does not come from inside the fucking house. saying that you HAVE suffered does not fucking equate that you believe you SHOULD have suffered.

like I could talk about this for hours. how braindead and one-dimensional the Takes are getting. "being a woman is looking in the mirror and going fuck yeah i'm a woman" damn. I guess any negative experiences you have by living in a misogynistic world... are your fault if you are anything but positive? "you don't actually want liberation" we've fully gone back to telling feminists "you WANT to be oppressed" when anything negative about our society is pointed out. it's not real until I say it out loud, I guess, and then I'm actually the one who caused it. if anybody expresses any unhappiness with how they're treated or the status quo or the language and culture surrounding womanhood and femininity. they've created it, right that second. they invented it just now. it wasn't a problem before somebody complained, right? also trans women aren't braindead zombies who just follow the flow of whatever cis women around them say. I am pretty fucking sure they are very much aware of pain, and are MORE than aware of the swirling torrent of misogyny and standards of femininity than anybody else. actually. and I am pretty sure someone complaining on tumblr that being a woman means always putting on a performance is going to make someone change their mind about transitioning. also "performing femininity" as a necessity to being treated well as a woman is not fucking NEWS to your Local Trans Woman. I AM PRETTY SURE SHE GETS THE CONCEPT. using trans women as a scapegoat for this braindead perspective on gender politics is spineless, meritless, and pathetic.

#how I feel about my gender is not the same as how I feel about the living conditions of my gender #when I saw that post I screenshotted here I literally sat w my mouth open for a minute #sent it to my friends and was like am I fucking crazy. is this what we're doing now #Forced Positivity and that there is no war in ba sing se and actually #you're ruining children's lives if you complain about misogyny on twitter #I don't HAVE to tell little girls about the downsides because they are already being mistreated #before they have even heard the word 'misogyny' let alone know what it means #you do not have to be fucking happy all the time about the cards you're dealt.#you don't live in a bubble where it's just you and your mirror and your pretty dress and nothing bad has ever happened to you #unfortunately bitch. we will have negative experiences that are in fact. part of the package of being a woman #and IGNORING them doesn't make them not exist. actually they will continue to remain status quo unless acknowledged #sergle.txt #I see so much rhetoric that is JUST old-fashioned gender ideals being presented with liberal language on tiktok #that is just telling women that womanhood is just being a girllll and loving pretty things and being kind and gentleeeee and nurturing #and not working and just like being wholesome and being happy and being a light in ppl's lives and just LOVING LOVING LOVING being a woman #so if for even one second. you don't love it. you are actually failing at being a woman #if you complain about the standards for shaving or putting on makeup. which used to be Baby's First Feminism online #that's actually just you creating problems. you're not supposed to acknowledge it. you're supposed to shut up and smile into the mirror.

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dynamimight · 1 year

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"that's like if y/n said she loved me!"

you have no choice but to overhear the conversation happening between your favorite group of friends, which, of course, means you have no choice but to walk over and chime in. "i so would tell you i loved you!"

your friends give short greetings before kaminari sarcastically continues: "yeah, and you'd probably kiss and hug on him too!" he juts out his bottom lip, pouting as he condescends, "you're such a sweetheart!" the group laughs as you jokingly give them a squint and death stare before walking over to bakugou.

you grab the sides of his face from behind the couch where he sits, gently tipping his head back and giving a tight-lipped smile before you smother him with kisses. his whole face except for his lips is victim to your love-filled attack, and you give the final blow with one huge "mwah!" pressed to his cheek.

"told you i would," you say cheekily. he stares at you, a slow, grinch-like side grin overtaking his features. you smile brightly back at him before dipping down and hugging him. "i love you~! so so so much!" and you give him another loud kiss to his cheek so he smiles even harder.

you point at the others and say, "don't doubt me or my love. ever," with that same joking glare. kaminari raises his hands as if to surrender, and bakugou pulls you over the couch to fall next to him, pulling you under his arm to boast about just how much you love him over everyone else.

no one objects, of course - they know he's right.

#oh how i love describing smiles #a grinch-like grin or smile is my favorite kind of smile for katsuki bc its so. him #like he's a gremlin with a big ass heart and i am in love w him and his cute ass smile #i think he has one of those long line dimples that appears on one side #A TIDBIT FOR THE GIRLIES (gender neutral)#mha x reader #bnha #mha fluff #mha imagines #bakugou fluff #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #'ki baby ♡#katsuki fluff #dynami 💥#this was so spur of the moment like it just popped into my head and i just. wrote it down. im vv happy :) lol

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crowchemicals · 1 year

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Things i think Lucifer would do while you're dating

♥︎fluffy fluff all over, sfw

✧ i don't think there's any warnings i should put here other than me projecting onto my favourite babygirl. and very soft Luci 🙏 (my personal religion)

☆ these are purely some scenarios i like to think about often in my lil fantasy world in my head, (and yes this is still and art account i don't write much<33)

• He keeps a list of things you like so he can get them for you. He's very observant, especially when it comes to his beloved, so if he sees something catch your eye while on an outing or you've liked/shared an item on your story/ saved something pretty to pinterest (which he follows but won't admit it. it's not like he really uses the app for anything other than gift ideas for you anyway) he will keep it in mind and write it down in his notes app when you're not looking/there.

• He brings you flowers every week. He learns flower language so he can give you the most meaningful bouquets he can. When they start wilting he immediately replaces them with fresh ones, but he doesn't throw the bouquets away, he proudly displays them in vases around his study.

• You mentioned your favorite snack/sweets (that you can't find in the devildom) once in a conversation with Asmo that he overheard and since then he periodically goes up to the human world to stock up on them so you can have a treat whenever you like :)

• He asks you to do his nails one time as an excuse to get away from paperwork for a little bit and spend some time with you, and you both started gossiping and just talking about RAD, his brothers, etc, and this has since become a routine between you two, one day a week either in his room or yours you get together to sit on the floor while you do his nails and gossip

• he has awful night terrors and has no idea how to cope with them, of course he can't go telling anyone about them that would be embarrassing but he also doesn't want to worry anybody. he's the big brother he's not supposed to show any weaknesses so that his brothers have someone to rely on (shhh I'm projecting) so he distracts himself with work and music, he's lost too much sleep over these kind of nights. One night after you two had been dating for a while though he woke up in a cold sweat and while his first instinct was to go to your room there was something stopping him. So he turned to distracting himself again this time by putting on your favourite show/movie. And he continues doing this every time he has a nightmare until he feels comfortable sharing such vulnerability with you. He finds it oddly comforting even if it's a genre he wouldn't typically enjoy, remembering you talking so fondly about it gives it a different kind of vibe, sometimes depending on how exhausted he is or how bad the night terror was he'll fall asleep with it in the background.

• Takes interest in your hobbies and makes sure you never run out of supplies and new things to try out. And if he sees you eyeing anything relating to your craft or a game or ANYTHING REALLY you'll have it the next day

• Will ask you to come do your work/chill in his study while he's working as a way to spend time together, in the beginning he says it's bc you'll be able to focus better since no one will disturb you there and there's less noise but later he realises that your presence helps him be more productive so when he feels his motivation and focus slip he'll come into your room to do the rest of his paperwork next to you or if you're sleeping in his bedroom that night he'll come work at his desk there, as long as he can be near you he has a reason to finish his work faster.

• Lucifer being an exhausted older sister™️, never really gets to let his guard down so when he trusts you enough he'll finally let his mask slip and give up control for a moment (something all of us wish we could do tbh). someone go bigspoon this man he needs it.

• ^ so he likes to walk up to your/his bed after a long day and just plop on top of you in his pjs and demon form, he knows he's heavy, he knows you were reading but tbh he doesn't care he needs to be held right this instant. bonus points for you if play with his wings, scratch his head esp near the horns or rub his back. you're never getting rid of him now.

• he's so interested by everything you tell him, you wanna explain the plot of a new book in excruciating detail? tell him all the hot gossip you've been hearing from your friends at RAD/Asmo? Make him watch a 10 season long show while explaining every minor thing? go ahead, he will literally give you his full attention if he's not swarmed with paperwork. he'll remember 99.9% of what you tell him too.

#hes my baby i love him #obey me #obey me swd #obey me lucifer #lucifer obey me #lucifer x reader #lucifer x gender neutral reader #omswd #obey me lucifer fluff #soft luci #obey me shall we date #obey me hcs #obey me headcanons #obey me fluff #⭐.omswd #🖍️.crowwrites

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morgansplace · 2 months

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LISTENER ICONS . part two

I redesigned some of my listener icons today and decided to do a second part! all the icons were made by me :) I miiight end up doing a part three if this gets attention and I finish some more icons up. Who knows!

in order, from left to right, we have;

Charlie Lane [smartass] ; Malcolm Griffin [doc] ; Conan Sawyer [ivan's baby]

Reuben Foster [seer] ; Dominick Rees [bestie] ; Lucien Dév [cutie]

Ruggero Marte [honey] ; Viper Beoul [bright eyes] ; Dimitri Nabatov [my love]

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted icons #redacted listener #redacted honey #redacted cutie #redacted seer obscura #redacted bright eyes #redacted smartass #redacted bestie #redacted my love #redacted baby #redacted doc #gendered listener #<< names and most of them use he/him (but not all!)#morgans listeners

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thebookbutterfly · 1 year

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°•. Din Djarin .•°

Fan fiction recommendations from BB’s Bookshelf. All my favourite Din Djarin works in one place. Disclaimer: I am aware that most people refer to Mando as ‘Din’ but as it is canonically his last name I prefer to call him Djarin. Also with maybe the exception of one or two fics none of the works recommended here depict Djarin breaking his creed ( I just don’t like it). Anyway, please enjoy! ☺️

⭐️ = One of my favourites

ONESHOTS:

🦋 Beautiful [Fluff] Translating for a Tusken raider leaves Mando no other option than to be vulnerable. You tell him just how much he means to you. << Female Reader >> ⭐️

🦋 Injured [Fluff, Hurt/Comfort] After Mando is injured you refuse to leave his side. He is a little loopy on bacta shots and confesses things to you like the sweetie he is. << Female Reader >>

🦋 Breathe [Fluff, Angst] You think Djarin wants another woman, he thinks you want the safety that comes from being away from him. Both of you are wrong. Very fluffy ending. << Female Reader, Brief Miscommunication >>

🦋 His [Fluff] Djarin has just come home from a long hunt. Exhausted, he finds the heater broken and you in his bed. << Female Reader, Allusions to Sex >>

🦋His World [Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff] When the Crest explodes, seemingly with you in it, Djarin’s universe falls apart. AKA Din Djarin thinks that you died, you’re delighted to inform him you didn’t. << Female Reader >>

🦋 Conceal [Hurt/Comfort] Din Djarin was a master at hiding his injuries, that’s why he’d always discover yours. << Gender Neutral Reader >>

🦋 skin [Fluff] You love it when Din Djarin touches you, but after working outside in the snow all day his hands are freezing. Domestic fluff with pregnant reader. << Female Reader, Pregnancy >>

🦋 My Riduur [Fluff] Of course Mando feels a little jealous when someone is flirting with his riduur. As a Mandalorian he can’t kiss you but he has other ways to stake his claim. << Female Reader >>

🦋 Snowflakes In Your Hair [Fluff] You have never seen snow before, so Mando takes you to Ando Prime to experience it for the first time. << Gender Neutral Reader >>

🦋 That’s Not My Name [Fluff] You find out that you have actually been calling ‘Din’ by his surname all along. << Gender Neutral Reader >>

🦋 Asleep Together [Fluff] Djarin can’t find Grogu, until he finds you asleep with him. << Gender Neutral Reader >>

🦋 touching Din [Fluff, Slight Angst] Din Djarin loves being touched and you love touching him. Touch starved Djarin getting the love he needs. << Gender Neutral Reader >>

🦋 Haircut [Fluff] Mando hadn’t cut his hair in a while. When your fingers brushed through the pieces that stuck out from the edge of his helmet, he found that he didn’t mind. << Gender Neutral Reader >>

🦋 Meeting the Family [Fluff] Mando takes you to meet the covert for the first time and introduces you as his riduur. << Gender Neutral Reader >>

🦋 Language Barrier [Fluff] You hadn’t found the right moment to tell Mando that you were fluent in Mando’a, and now it was too late to mention casually. You finally tell him when he confesses to you under his breath. << Female Reader, Allusions to Sex >>

🦋 Significant [Fluff] Djarin has been calling you riduur for months. You finally find out what it means and get more than you bargained for. << Gender Neutral Reader >>

🦋 Offer [Fluff] Din Djarin is absolutely sure that you know that he is courting you. He wants to make the offer formally anyway. << Gender Neutral Reader >>

🦋 Warm Sand, Soft Hands [Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort] After Djarin’s stunt with the Great Krayt Dragon, you were furious and scared. Right up until you realised why he did it. << Gender Neutral Reader, Injury >>

🦋 Common Mistake [Fluff, Hurt/Comfort] You had accidentally stabbed yourself with a knife. Embarrassment aside you didn’t want to be a burden and hid the injury. Mando takes care of you. << Female Reader >>

🦋 Distracting [Fluff] Mando removes his beskar in front of you for the first time. Safe to say that it is terribly distracting. << Female Reader >>

🦋 Kiss [Fluff] Curious, you ask Djarin if he has ever kissed anyone before, secretly hoping to be his first. << Gender Neutral Reader >>

🦋 Good [Hurt/Comfort, Slight Angst] Din Djarin was the only person you ever told about your weakness, and yet he wasn’t “good enough” to shield you from it. << Female Reader, Drowning >>

🦋 Blood Loss [Fluff, Hurt/Comfort] Mando comes back from collecting his bounty injured. You take care of him. << Female Reader >>

🦋 Jealousy [Fluff] Vanth keeps you company while Mando is out running errands. He gets flirty and Djarin decides to reveal that you are his riduur. << Gender Neutral Reader >>

🦋 Rumble [Fluff] Djarin comforts you during a thunderstorm. << Female Reader >>

SERIES:

🦋 Orbit: Part 1 (Body Warmth), Part 2 (Battle Scars), Part 3 (Bruised Skin) [Fluff, Hurt/Comfort] You and Din Djarin had been orbiting one another for a long time. Sharing a space, sharing warmth and sharing skin. Mega Fluff with a healthy dose of “Who did this to you?” << Gender Neutral Reader, Injury >>

🦋 Not Like This, Not You [Angst, Hurt Comfort, Fluff] After being captured by Moff Gideon, Djarin is forced to break his creed and show his face to you. You are devastated but both of you are determined to escape. << Female Reader, Violence >> ⭐️

🦋 In Sickness and In Health: Part 1 (In Sickness), Part 2 (In Health) [Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Fluff] The time when the kid got sick and the time you caught the same illness from him. << Gender Neutral Reader >>

DRABBLES:

🦋 Bacta Patch [Fluff, Hurt/Comfort] Mando stops by your store to discover that you’re hurt. He decides to fix that. With a healthy dose of ‘Who did this to you?’ << Gender Neutral Reader >>

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pigdemonart · 10 months

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Nova from Space Rhapsody (she, he, they)

They’re a shapeshifter, which works wonders for their career as a thief. The left and top left are their most common appearances and also just my fav to draw.

I haven’t decided yet if she will have the ability to hide her “tells” (mole, star in her eyes, etc), but for the sake of the drawings here I made them all similar to each other.

Patreon | Ko-Fi

#space rhapsody #nova #my art #i love u baby gorl #i love your fear of commitment and xeno’d gender

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gxlden-angels · 2 months

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I love getting validated on small things that I didn't even consider like it's always a treat and this time it's Gender

The Fundie Baby Voice™️ has been popping up a lot in ex-christian spaces lately and I actually had one in middle school and part of high school! I learned when and where to use it and how to turn up my southern accent just enough. I can still do it but it sounds weird after 3 years on T. The main place I used it was at church cause it made me sound sweet and polite. I used it for old ladies when I worked at a grocery store too. My family didn't like it when we were just all together cause they said it sounded like baby talk, but loved it when I used it at church cause everyone would tell them how sweet and soft-spoken I was

My therapist said it actively made him feel uncomfortable when I used that voice. He couldn't quite put his finger on why it made him uncomfortable (other than him only knowing me on T) but he very much did not like it and he's so so right for that

#he's a cishet white jewish man so it's always a treat when I talk about something like this #cause it started off about how I felt like my gender is a performance and I will use it to my advantage #I usually talk fairly neutrally and monotone so people find it uncanny when I change it up #especially if it's the way I talk to my family and the church folks that ask about me #Now that I'm on T and had top surgery I love fucking with ppl via my gender presentation #I like the chaos of not correcting ppl and watching them fight amongst themselves over what my gender is #My previous gender was Weird Little Girl #and now i'm Just Some Guy #I don't feel like I was always a guy I feel like my gender at the time was Weird Little Girl #and it changed over time but I loved the performance of being a weird little girl #I was not a girl I was specifically a WLG #And well I still know how to use my old performances even if I'm no longer a weird little girl #I consider myself a guy but not a man and a girlie but not a woman #my gender is whatever is funniest at the moment #My gender is whatever you project onto me. My gender is a mirror to your childhood trauma #anyways I kinda lost the plot but yea I can kinda still use the fundie baby voice but it sounds a lil off #cause I've been on T for over 3 years now #ex christian #religious trauma

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ca-8 · 3 months

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THANK Y'AALL

(Dear GOD, it was so hard drawing DogDay for this one AGHHH but I think I figured it out ha h-) ANYWAYS, IM SO HAPPY Y'ALL LIKED THE DOGDAY x READER FIC I POSTED!! This guy is my new comfort character, I love him sm and I refuse to acknowledge his death (and yes, the girlies beside him are my OCs/selfinsertsmaybeagh- literally just my personality traits split into two people, more on them later-) BUT YES, as I said, I will be posting more DogDay, although the next update is a requested one - a Yandere Bunzo Bunny!! Aw I love that name, that's so cute >w< AN Y WAY, I'll see y'all in a bitty bit! Have a good rest of your days/nights!~

#fanfiction #dogday x reader #dogday #smiling critters #although I love dogday I kin catnap (cartoon version) lmao-#catnap #my baby #self insert x canon #poppy playtime 3 #poppy playtime chapter 3 #poppy playtime dogday #oc x canon #gender neutral y/n #x reader #oc #thank you #yandere #bunzo bunny

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bumblingbabooshka · 3 months

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T'Pel's Children! Bios under the cut. Patreon | Ko-fi

[Transcript: Sek is an elementary school teacher who has a mixed-species classroom. He has three children under his care - one biological daughter and two half-Klingon wards whom he considers his daughters. He is married to a woman named T'Nia, his betrothed.

Sek is a busybody and prone to being judgemental. However, he does care deeply for other people - especially children, and is never intentionally mean. His favored sibling is Varith because he's the only one who reliably listens to him. He and Elieth bicker a lot.

Elieth is a politician who is concerned primarily with his personal goal of changing Vulcan's image in the eyes of the wider universe. He 'loves' Vulcan and he wants to showcase its diversity to everyone.

He is married to a Betazoid socialite named Ione Kitain and they are often in the tabloids due to her stunts. They have a podcast together. Elieth's personality is opinionated, stubborn, and free-thinking. He often clashes with his more traditional older brother and father.

Asil studied the kolinahr but quit right before going through the final ritual. She is now an independent detective who focuses especially on cases given to her by women. She is married to a Ferengi sex worker but has hundreds of admirers across the galaxy.

She has no bias towards or against any member of her family thanks to her kolinahr studies. The reason she quit was that she didn't want to become a stranger to them.

Asil is soft spoken but her language is flowery and she is flirtatious in the way a fairytale prince might be. Gallant, chivalrous and mysterious.

Varith is a Starfleet science ensign. He has chronic pain, a dog, and an attitude. He joined Starfleet instead of the Vulcan alternative in an attempt to understand his father more.

His personality is sarcastic, curious, and somewhat grouchy. He is a fan of anime and has a figurine collection.]

[Transcript: Sek is a member of an orchestra and a private tutor. He has one daughter with another child on the way and is often extremely busy as a result. He often feels pressure to be 'perfect' and holds people to standards which are too high. He gets along very well with his mother and often plays her songs which Tuvok once did.

He gets along very well with all of his siblings who view him as a reliable and steady presence in their lives. His personality is responsible, calm and a bit of a nag.

Varith is a scientist and a member of the Vulcan Expeditionary Group. His betrothed is also in the group and they serve aboard the same ship but they are not yet married, to everyone's confusion.

His personality is dedicated, straightforward and idealistic. He is a person who lives by his morals and dislikes liars. Wants to honor his parents. Very close with all his siblings whom he views as good people.

Elieth is a lawyer who specializes in domestic disputes. He is married to a Vulcan woman (his betrothed) but is currently having an affair with a betazoid socialite, Ione Kitain. His sister Asil is the only one who knows of this and he doesn't like speaking to her.

Elieth's personality is extravagant, sly and calculating. He enjoys leading a quiet life where he wants for nothing which is a reason he doesn't want to become publically involved with Ione. Another is that he doesn't want to disappoint his mother, who views him as a rehabilitated troublemaker.

Asil is a priest who completed her kolinahr training. She was already a priest but she completed her kolinahr training after her father's disappeared in order to deal with the crushing sorrow it left her with.

Her personality is logical and serene. She truly experiences no emotion so she has little reaction to the world around her. Her life is dedicated to the teaching of others and maintaining her equilibrium.]

#st voyager #st voy #star trek voyager #T'Pel vs T'Pel #Sek #Elieth #Varith #Asil #they are all my babies now v_v #I love how Left Sek looks so scrawny compared to Right Sek...the pain of being the oldest AND the shortest!!!!!#Also: Tuvok does parent his children and is very involved in their lives (pre delta quad) but this is about the TPELS!!!#Asil's gender is on shrimp colors mode but only one. Even Vulcan gender is a mere social construct - a feeling and a preference #and Asil has neither. It's sort of 'beyond' but I put the flags there to indicate this more alien concept ~!#and YES!!!! I did design four new guys just for this!!!!!#please let me know what you think of them~!!#[REDACTED] family photos

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