came home drunk last night and got way too excited to see my cat

everyone look at these namaki drawings that my friend @lakefama drew i’m crying

nothing fills you with greater false confidence than managing to wake up early once

"this sleep schedule shit is easy" (← about to learn a lesson straight out of a fucked up traditional fairytale punishment)

gym partners

a/n: this was a hot hot hot request! i hope you gojhoes love it as much as i do <3

pairing: satoru gojo x fem!reader

cw: pining lol, pervy gojo, scheming gojo, blowjob, mentions of oral fem receiving.

wc: 4.3

ever since gojo fell for you, he's been doing nothing but improving his technique.

when he first developed his infinity, it wasn't good enough to have "on" at all times. then he honed his skills and learned to minimize the power he uses to run his infinity at all times. when you came into the picture, he knew his infinity would be a problem in terms of intimacy. how can he protect himself without putting up a barrier between you two?

shortly after getting together with him, you noticed that you were able to touch him anytime you wanted, and the pillows you had thrown at him had all touched his skin. he must have his infinity off, you suspected. but when you saw a leaf fall off a tree and bounce off his head, and when you saw the baseball his students hit at him fall to the ground instead, you realized that he had altered his technique to automatically separate your touch and your things with everything else in the world.

one hot summer afternoon, when you were in his office with your head on his shoulder, you learned that he had extended his infinity to include you. he had called his students to his office for a quick chat, and he had insisted that you stay to "keep him on track," so you did. to recover from the burning weather, his students brought popsicles and threw one at you to share. you reached out to catch it but the popsicles stopped in the air, just 2 cm away from your palms. both you and his students turn to look at gojo, and he just blinks and says "oops," turns off his infinity and the popsicle quickly falls in your hands. the realization that no one can harm you when he's within reach sunk into your mind, and you couldn't help but sneak a glance at him, thinking about the fact that he had gone out of his way to change his technique protect you.

those are just the changes you've noticed—there are many more changes that he hasn’t gotten around to tell you and you haven’t noticed yet, but you know he’s made them for you.

PEACH

event masterlist • masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

I.

It starts off innocently enough.

Even before you’ve got together, Satoru makes it a habit of his own to give your ass an amicable pat for "good luck" or "to bless him". Make it obvious that the young teacher’s rather fond of his fellow teacher’s backside, going as far as openly making up compliments. Spreading heat through your cheeks when his little game of teasing starts.

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐄!

➙ 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: you are their favorite fictional character ♡

➙ 𝐟𝐭: gojo, geto, nanami, & toji x fem!reader ♡

➙ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 18+ ONLY || smut content ♡

GOJO has reread his favorite novel repeatedly, and the inked words are certainly seared into his mind. His students often made fun of him for reading the same book over and over.

He can’t help it. After all, he was practically in love with you.

crack whore

satoru gojo x f!reader 

**part of my labor of love series, the masterlist is linked here 

content: mentions of weed/crack, satoru gojo - certified annoying train passenger, reader almost falls of the train and then spirals about how she almost died, satoru being annoying (I cannot emphasize this enough)

an: hehe. I cannot wait for this series to actually pick up because im so excited and FDSAFASDFSADF

previous part linked here

- 

You immediately stumble back onto the train, the force of his arms so powerful that you’re basically falling straight against his frame. Your movements are jagged, your balance teetering on your ankles until you’re basically slumping down into the floor. 

He immediately leans forward, catching you before you can. He exhales softly, chuckling at you, with his crystalline blue eyes still inquisitively staring into yours. 

“You know. You could fall, sweetheart.” 

He lightly lifts your frame back up, his warm hands only letting go of your limbs when you regain balance against the train moving under you. You’re panting as you look at him and immediately leaning against the wall to stick your head out of the train. Again. 

It’s pitch black now, the tiny glittering city lights gone and replaced by a dark expanse. Your eyes only adjust to see the silver, metallic train tracks moving beneath you so fast that you can barely make out each of the individual lines of the metal framework. 

You almost fell out. You would have fallen out if you stretched your ankles a little more or peaked out slightly farther. 

You were going to fall out. You were going to die if it wasn’t for him. 

You crane your head back into the car to look at him, only to find he’s been talking this entire time. You just register his mouth moving, only tuning back in now to hear what he was saying. 

“You know, I’ve asked you a hundred times. But still no response. If this is some coy plot to play hard to get, it’s working.” 

The attender signals you to return to the train car, shutting the door altogether. You place your hands against the glass, cold under your touch, before prying yourself away from that door. 

“We’re going to check the passenger’s tickets now. Please return back to your seats.” 

The attender walks into the car ahead, and this pale-haired stranger locks his fingers with yours, leading you back to the seats the two of you were in. He’s still talking (of course he is), and you silently wonder how much tact this guy must have to keep talking like he does. If anyone’s ever tried to silence him, water out the fire that clearly keeps a guy like this going. 

“Do you not speak English? Is that what it is? Uh…Konnichiwa?….or Bonjour?….I don’t know any Spanish words except puta, but I don’t imagine that will elicit a big response from you, so..”

You two take your original seats, his touch leaving yours as he sits directly across you. His face is resting in his own hands, elbowed propped against his knees as he leans into your space to talk to you. 

“I don’t know what language you speak, lady, but she’s gonna come check our tickets. You know, the ones we bought to get to the train.” 

He starts creating a small rectangular shape with his hands, enunciating hard on every syllable of the word ticket. Tick-et. Like you were a child with barely developed cognitive functions. That you had to be coddled into something like this. You place your phone on the seat next to you, slouching back into the chair as you respond. 

“I don’t have a ticket.” 

The second you say this, a different attendant, a short girl barely in her thirties, slides into the car where you and this guy are sitting, a shiny hole puncher in her hands. And before you can even talk - explain how you ended up on this train - he’s sliding over in his seat, signaling her to sit down as he starts trying to sweet talk his way out of this. 

For you. 

“You see. She booked this trip really, really last minute. She was in such a rush, running so fast to the train station, that she forgot to buy a ticket. I mean, look, she’s still in her work clothes! Happens to the best of us.” 

The girl - Saika, she said her name was - is glaring at him, her knuckles clenched in frustration. 

“Hey, listen. Saika, right? I can get off at the next train stop. She can keep going if it’s that big deal. If you need me to, I’ll jump off the train right now! Granted, this one tried that a little earlier, but I stopped her before she could escape me.” 

You can feel your throat running dry at his words, burning at the implication. He can’t be serious right? Because there’s no way in hell because he can’t be this fucking aloof and idiotic that he thinks this is working. That he knows anything about you or what you were doing or-

You watch him move closer to Saika, touching her shoulder as he talks, his voice suddenly soft. 

“Listen…I- Can you please give her a ticket? I mean, look at her. She means no harm, and…it’s just a painful time for her. Can you just find it to do this one thing for her? For us?” 

You watch Saika’s eyes falter, his blue eyes big, staring into her green ones, as she pinches the bridge of her nose with her fingers. She turns back to look at you. 

“Where do you want the train to stop? Where are you going?” 

Where are you going? 

You don’t know where the fuck you’re going. You walked two miles to the station. Sat on the train. Your phone has been buzzing in the seat for an hour, likely someone at the office ready to fire you, though they can’t really do that. 

It had to be them because no one else will call you. They just need to sign off on something since you’re technically the CEO or whatever. Because you inherited a company at twenty-three, you’re supposed to know what you’re doing. 

Because your mom died when you were eleven, even though that’s tragic, some parts of everyone still expect you to have it all figured out. They assume you knew how to put a tampon in when you got your first period and how to invest in photography stock properly, and how to be soft, to love someone in a soft way even though some days, your brain feels like it’s made of metal - like you’re a piece of machinery walking through each day. 

You’re lost. You don’t even know where you are, this weird white-haired freak has been talking your ear off for the past ten minutes, and you almost fell off the train and died like-

“Tokyo. She’s going to Tokyo with me.” 

Saika scribbles something down on her notepad, handing you a shiny pink sheet. 

“Take this down to the ticket booth at the next stop. They’ll validate it for you.” 

The pale-haired guy, whose name you still don’t know, shoots her a glimmering smile, grabbing her hand to kiss her knuckles. She rolls her eyes as she walks away, the two of you left alone in the train car again. And then he cranes his head over to you, his eyes filled with a childlike wonder. It’s haunting. 

“Holy fuck. Are you a crack whore?” 

“What?” 

“God. What got you into drugs? You’ve got to be years in if you’re climbing on fucking trains at train stops.” 

You can tell he’s about to start another spiel by the way he leans back, widening his legs as he slumps back into the train seat. Here he goes again. 

“Listen. One time, I had edibles. Gave me a fuck ton of diarrhea, though - like you wouldn’t believe. I woke up in my friend Nanami’s bed. He was pissed for days.” 

“My kid, Megumi, used to sleep in my bed every night when I first got him. Now he acts like he’s too good for me. Like, where does this punk even get off? I had to learn how to do laundry just to teach him how to wash his own underwear.” 

“So what got you hooked on drugs? Gotta be some intense, shit-level problems. Did you get fired? Your boyfriend left you? Or did you start young, neglectful parents or some shit?” 

The words burn this time. You’ve had enough. 

“My problem is you. You literally do not shut the fuck up. Like seriously, do you really lack any common sense? Social cues? The entire train car is fucking empty, but of course, you have to sit right here next to me. I’m sure you’re a nice guy, but I really do not give a fuck if your parents are financial advisers, if your kid does or doesn’t know how to wash his own fucking underwear, of if you’re moving to Kyoto. Just please, for the love of God, leave me alone.” 

He’s staring at you, eyes widened as you stop, your chest heaving. Your mouth is dry, throat stinging from how loudly you were screaming. And the second you stop, you feel horrible. 

Because yeah, this guy is Mr. Tactless and all, but he also got you out of the situation with the ticket. 

And in all honestly, he doesn’t mean any harm. In fact, he’s probably so jittery, so excited, so unashamed because no one has ever stomped on him before. Told him what he had to say was uninteresting, left him alone on a playground, and told him he didn’t love softly enough. 

And it’s not his fault that Kyo doesn’t love you, that you don’t have any friends, or that you’re so utterly alone that you dragged yourself on a train and got on. And it’s not okay for you to take all that out on him. 

You can see it, from the softness in his features and the utter decisiveness that he has in himself. And it kills you that you just tried to water it down, suppress it inside. Who are you to shoot him down just because you’re bitter inside?

“Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t really mean-” 

“S’okay, sweetheart. I know what happened. You’re probably all emotionally constipated…god knows from what. So you took it out on me. But I don’t mind. I’ve got tough skin-” 

And then he starts again with his talking. 

In some ways, it’s fascinating. You just cussed him out, in earnest, and he didn’t even think about it. He talks so fast - jumping from one subject to the next - his favorite type of ice cream, how panty hoses make him uncomfortable, how Tootsie Rolls are better than Smarties. 

You wonder what it’s like to be a person like this, so unabashed, so unashamed that you’re just you. Unapologetically. 

“You see. I’m used to this whole emo attitude thing. My kid, Megumi, kids got the most irritable personality in the world. Sometimes I think he was born with a stick up his ass.” 

“Do you think pregnant people should be allowed to drive in the carpool lane? Like, really, there are technically two people in the car.” 

“My best friend, Getou, once tried to get hired to be an astronaut. But they said he needed to cut his hair to pass the screening, so he just couldn’t do that.” 

The train car pulls to a stop, and you speed walk out of the car, leaving him behind.

- 

The second you get off the train, you take the pink sheet of paper Saika gave you, to validate your ticket on the train, and slam it into the trashcan, taking residence on the bench nearby. 

It’s late at night - you can hear the summer crickets jumping past, the mosquitoes hovering in the air, and the heat sticking to your starched work clothes. And you really think. 

What are you even doing? 

You’re god knows where at a dingy train station in the middle of the night. The station is dim, the lights flickering on and off, and a few workers sleepy, shuffling past you. The train you were just on is glittering, the lights overhead signaling that it’s time to reenter the train. 

You wonder what Kyo’s doing right now. It’s his wedding night - probably all giggly and soft in a hotel room while you’re at a sweaty train station, yelling at strangers on the train car. 

Rock. Bottom. 

And then you watch the train leave. Your phone is still in there, stuck on the seat where that white-haired idiot was sitting. He’s probably talking to himself in there, wondering where you’ve gone and-

“So. Are we just going to watch it leave?” 

You look to your right to find the fucking white-haired idiot himself standing next to you, ice cream dripping down the side of his fingers. He sits next to you on the warm bench, gesturing his cone in front of your face as you wave him off. 

You tilt your head to the side, which he mimics, the two of you watching the train bustle away. And when it’s gone in the distance, the smallest bit of the train car obscured from your view, you turn to look at him, him dropping the last bits of his ice cream cone into his mouth. 

And then he turns to you, that soft, sincere look in his eye as he holds his non-ice cream hand out to you. 

“I’m Satoru. Satoru Gojo.” 

“Y/N.” 

He smiles, repeating your name a few times, like he’s getting himself acquainted with it, getting used to the sound of your name falling out of his mouth. 

“No last name? Do you want me to give you one?” 

You roll your eyes as you turn your head back to the silver tracks, lightly fluorescing in the dim lights of the train station.

“So. Want to get a hotel?” 

And you’re not sure why you say this next, maybe because you’ve hit rock bottom, because you’re in the middle of nowhere, and you’re sure this idiot who doesn’t believe the moon landing is real can’t do too much harm to you. 

“Okay. Sure.” 

And when you look back on everything, it all trails down to this moment. Like a snapshot memory - the details ingrained in your mind. Because that soft white hair, shining blue eyes, and that sticky ice cream dripping down the side of his hand is the start of something. 

The craziest three weeks of your life. That changes everything forever. Which sounds dramatic, but that’s one of the things you learn from Satoru. 

To embrace things as they are. 

And it’s pretty fucking dramatic that Satoru Gojo, spineless train idiot, brings you back to life. 

- 

taglist: @luna0713hunter @squirrelspoetry @theragethatisdesire @skzismyhome @porridgesblog @dryxspecialist66  @sweetenertea  @witchbybirth @shotenvinsoot @platrom @gods-sleepiest-bee

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — GOJO SATORU x FEM READER

wc — 1.5k

tags — quote from Advantages of Being Evergreen by Oliver Baez Bendorf, title from the Louvre by Lorde, feral Gojo, kidnapping, NPC death

“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?” Gojo asks as you’re lying in bed, whispering to each other before you fall asleep as you often do. It’s a strange question, but not worse than other ones he’s asked before.

“I’m not sure…once I helped Shoko steal cigarettes from the local konbini because she wanted to try the delinquent life, but I left money behind when she wasn’t looking.”

He laughs so hard tears pop into his eyes, probably more at you than with you, but you don’t care. You’re as gone for him as he is for you, and that means humiliating yourself for a chance to hear him laugh is an honor you’d accept over and over.

“What about you?”

“You don’t want to know,” he says, hand rubbing your stomach lightly. He can’t help the urge to touch when he sees your pajama shirt ride up. It makes you squirm, his long pale fingers stroking over the tender skin.

He likes it. Something about seeing you belly up - vulnerable, trusting, ready to be plundered - speaks to the worst instincts in him. He never pretended to be a good man.

“No, seriously,” he shakes his head when you pout. You’re a little annoyed by the unfairness of it, after all, you had shared yours with him. “I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true. You really don’t want to know, especially before you fall asleep.”

how gojo tries to get your attention after a fight

gojo messed up majorly. last night, he came home tired and stressed after a mission with a special grade curse. yes, it was successful (obviously. it's gojo.), but it still drained him.

how gojo reacts to you wearing his sweater

gojo

love alarm

he’s a gentleman, satoru.

a total sweetheart in all shapes and forms; an expert with both his words and actions—always whispering sweet nothings and showering you in compliments every chance he gets, always opening doors for you and giving you his jacket whenever you’re cold—the perfect boyfriend.

but he’s also an absolute dramatic.