saekkas

[saekkas]

OML I HAVEN'T BEEN HERE IN A WHILEE, HI RINNN HOW ARE YOU?? :3 my exams are over (yay!) Waiting for results rn (>:( no yay) BUT AT LEAST I'M FREE NOW HEHAHDHA, how's dorms? Anything interesting happen lately?（☆/＞u＜/) just came back from playing a horrendous football match (we lost 💔) but other than that, I'm pretty dandy on this fine day 😹🙏 what about you? :D- 🍁

hiii dearest !! oh my !! congratulations on a job well done !!! sending you a cake and party streamers woot wooottt i'm sure you've done amazing !! please don't stress over the results :< you're now free to enjoy life again hehe

ah condolences on the football match `(*>﹏<*)′ i'm sure you'll win next time ♪(´▽｀) are you one of the starters on the team? if so, that's so cool !! i've always been shit at football so whenever i see anyone playing i get starry eyed hehe (●ˇ∀ˇ●)

as for me: i have been thrown around like a punching bag (courtesy of college, life, and everything in between) but hey other than that (lol) ive been very swell <33 hmm i'm not an interesting person overall but: (a) my dorm room has been overrun by ants and (b) i have taken up swimming (bcz at age 20, i already feel like a grandma fr)

#that concludes my life update hehe #no but !! its always so good to destress with working out so maybe you can use football to forget about those exam results !! #(or mayhaps even send one flying to the teacher hehe jkjk) #you sent this in yesterday (i think?) so i'm hoping your day's going just as splendid as before !! #sending lots of love mwahh #— ; messages to rin #— ;🍁anon

[saekkas]

I WANNA GO HOME 😭

what's keeping you away !!!

#i was going to add some corny joke like “cmere into my arms!!” #but yeah no <3 #also so sorry for the late late reply college has been awful :< #— ; messages to rin #— ; koca

[saekkas]

𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐓

summary: the day gojo satoru came home, everything changed– the day the strongest returned scarred, something shifted.

tags: 775 wc | gender neutral reader | angst with some fluff mixed in | slight manga spoilers | satoru keeps his scars from his fight with sukuna | deals with depression and loss

it’s warm. the chilly, almost numbing, weather from winter has thawed– leaving behind patches of ashen snow. the birds chirp outside of your apartment window, calling out to each other as they huddle for warmth.

you watch, enraptured, as a mother bird guards its fledgelings– it preens their wings, maintains its nest by scourging for branches and thickets alike, spreads its wings for when a threat comes near.

it’s almost endearing, how human and animal nature mirror each other so well.

“you okay?” the touch of your hand is feather light, leaving no trace as they trail down satoru’s back. your lover’s quiet– almost uncharacteristically so as he lets you tend to the scars that now litter down his back and throughout his body.

“i’m good,” satoru hums, his eyes plastered on the mugs that are nestled on your nightstand. on some days, when the memories haunt him more than they should, he refuses to speak altogether– lips pressed tight against each other, shoulders slumped as he cradles himself on the bed.

it’s warm, he once told you, eyes so vacant and empty. devoid of the usual bright blue spark they carry.  i like it when it’s warm.

“does it hurt?” you know it doesn’t– know that after what he’s been through, everything’s just another shade of numb. and yet, the tiny whisper in your mind wonders if he truly understands what you’re asking. “you can tell me, y’know? that’s the only way i can help.”

“they’re healed. nothing hurts. not one bit.” satoru grins, showing off his boyish, almost childlike happiness that contrasts the way his eyes are dimmed, hair a mess atop his head.

because that’s who satoru is– who he’s supposed to be. the weight of the world rests on his shoulders, a burden so heavy it dilutes, erases one’s sense of self because if he isn’t the strongest, what else is there to be?

for a fraction of the moment, you let him comfort you– chuckle like everything is the way it was. you miss the sound of his voice, the annoying cackle he lets out just before laughing– most of all, you miss him. the satoru that isn’t a shell of the person he used to be.

your hands glide down the expanse of his back while your eyes roam his face– you take in every individual wound, each a reminder of what he fought for and lost. you wonder what looks back at him when he stares in the mirror.

“i know that,” you mumble, lifting a hand to cup his cheek, gently thumbing his dimple. “but remember what shoko said? it’ll be better if we put some ointment on them.”

“right. right.” the roll of his eyes might have been endearing had he not stiffened at your words. “we should have my wounds healed so they look less ugly.”

the term wound sounds like such an insult for how gentle your touches are when he’s with you.

“hey,” you whisper, watching as his eyelashes flutter the moment your hand threads through his hair. “they’re not ugly, satoru. no part of you could ever be ugly.”

you don’t let him speak, shake your head when he opens his mouth to object. “they’re like stars, y’know?”

“i think you meant to say ‘like pimples,’” he snorts, sounding playful as he waves a hand to dismiss your statement, but you can see it– the hatred and anger deeply rooted in his tone. “or ugly warts.”

“they’re a constellation of stars, satoru. one that’s written on your skin.” you tilt his head upwards, watch as his pupils dilate– a sea of black drowning in blue. he shivers, spine straightening when your fingers trace his jawline. “each one so pretty like they were individually brushed on by a painter.”

you press a kiss to his lips, let him feel the expanse of your love as your hands move before they rest on his chest– you feel his heart thud against your palm, a gentle but needed reminder that even when all else fails, you still have one another. “you are my world and all my stars, satoru. the sky would be so empty without you.”

“then, i’ll consider them yours,” he whispers after a moment of reprieve, leaning his forehead against yours– he lets his façade fall, unhooks the mask he wears for the world. baring his soul wide for you to see. you soften at the tears that pool in his eyes, like diamonds glistening in a storm. “just like how i am too.”

to most people, the strongest may have fallen– but, in your eyes, he’s still your saving grace.

#— ; icymi #— ; srb

[saekkas]

𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐓

summary: the day gojo satoru came home, everything changed– the day the strongest returned scarred, something shifted.

tags: 775 wc | gender neutral reader | angst with some fluff mixed in | slight manga spoilers | satoru keeps his scars from his fight with sukuna | deals with depression and loss

it’s warm. the chilly, almost numbing, weather from winter has thawed– leaving behind patches of ashen snow. the birds chirp outside of your apartment window, calling out to each other as they huddle for warmth.

you watch, enraptured, as a mother bird guards its fledgelings– it preens their wings, maintains its nest by scourging for branches and thickets alike, spreads its wings for when a threat comes near.

it’s almost endearing, how human and animal nature mirror each other so well.

“you okay?” the touch of your hand is feather light, leaving no trace as they trail down satoru’s back. your lover’s quiet– almost uncharacteristically so as he lets you tend to the scars that now litter down his back and throughout his body.

“i’m good,” satoru hums, his eyes plastered on the mugs that are nestled on your nightstand. on some days, when the memories haunt him more than they should, he refuses to speak altogether– lips pressed tight against each other, shoulders slumped as he cradles himself on the bed.

it’s warm, he once told you, eyes so vacant and empty. devoid of the usual bright blue spark they carry.  i like it when it’s warm.

“does it hurt?” you know it doesn’t– know that after what he’s been through, everything’s just another shade of numb. and yet, the tiny whisper in your mind wonders if he truly understands what you’re asking. “you can tell me, y’know? that’s the only way i can help.”

“they’re healed. nothing hurts. not one bit.” satoru grins, showing off his boyish, almost childlike happiness that contrasts the way his eyes are dimmed, hair a mess atop his head.

because that’s who satoru is– who he’s supposed to be. the weight of the world rests on his shoulders, a burden so heavy it dilutes, erases one’s sense of self because if he isn’t the strongest, what else is there to be?

for a fraction of the moment, you let him comfort you– chuckle like everything is the way it was. you miss the sound of his voice, the annoying cackle he lets out just before laughing– most of all, you miss him. the satoru that isn’t a shell of the person he used to be.

your hands glide down the expanse of his back while your eyes roam his face– you take in every individual wound, each a reminder of what he fought for and lost. you wonder what looks back at him when he stares in the mirror.

“i know that,” you mumble, lifting a hand to cup his cheek, gently thumbing his dimple. “but remember what shoko said? it’ll be better if we put some ointment on them.”

“right. right.” the roll of his eyes might have been endearing had he not stiffened at your words. “we should have my wounds healed so they look less ugly.”

the term wound sounds like such an insult for how gentle your touches are when he’s with you.

“hey,” you whisper, watching as his eyelashes flutter the moment your hand threads through his hair. “they’re not ugly, satoru. no part of you could ever be ugly.”

you don’t let him speak, shake your head when he opens his mouth to object. “they’re like stars, y’know?”

“i think you meant to say ‘like pimples,’” he snorts, sounding playful as he waves a hand to dismiss your statement, but you can see it– the hatred and anger deeply rooted in his tone. “or ugly warts.”

“they’re a constellation of stars, satoru. one that’s written on your skin.” you tilt his head upwards, watch as his pupils dilate– a sea of black drowning in blue. he shivers, spine straightening when your fingers trace his jawline. “each one so pretty like they were individually brushed on by a painter.”

you press a kiss to his lips, let him feel the expanse of your love as your hands move before they rest on his chest– you feel his heart thud against your palm, a gentle but needed reminder that even when all else fails, you still have one another. “you are my world and all my stars, satoru. the sky would be so empty without you.”

“then, i’ll consider them yours,” he whispers after a moment of reprieve, leaning his forehead against yours– he lets his façade fall, unhooks the mask he wears for the world. baring his soul wide for you to see. you soften at the tears that pool in his eyes, like diamonds glistening in a storm. “just like how i am too.”

to most people, the strongest may have fallen– but, in your eyes, he’s still your saving grace.

#— ; icymi #— ; srb

[saekkas]

𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐓

summary: the day gojo satoru came home, everything changed– the day the strongest returned scarred, something shifted.

tags: 775 wc | gender neutral reader | angst with some fluff mixed in | slight manga spoilers | satoru keeps his scars from his fight with sukuna | deals with depression and loss

it’s warm. the chilly, almost numbing, weather from winter has thawed– leaving behind patches of ashen snow. the birds chirp outside of your apartment window, calling out to each other as they huddle for warmth.

you watch, enraptured, as a mother bird guards its fledgelings– it preens their wings, maintains its nest by scourging for branches and thickets alike, spreads its wings for when a threat comes near.

it’s almost endearing, how human and animal nature mirror each other so well.

“you okay?” the touch of your hand is feather light, leaving no trace as they trail down satoru’s back. your lover’s quiet– almost uncharacteristically so as he lets you tend to the scars that now litter down his back and throughout his body.

“i’m good,” satoru hums, his eyes plastered on the mugs that are nestled on your nightstand. on some days, when the memories haunt him more than they should, he refuses to speak altogether– lips pressed tight against each other, shoulders slumped as he cradles himself on the bed.

it’s warm, he once told you, eyes so vacant and empty. devoid of the usual bright blue spark they carry.  i like it when it’s warm.

“does it hurt?” you know it doesn’t– know that after what he’s been through, everything’s just another shade of numb. and yet, the tiny whisper in your mind wonders if he truly understands what you’re asking. “you can tell me, y’know? that’s the only way i can help.”

“they’re healed. nothing hurts. not one bit.” satoru grins, showing off his boyish, almost childlike happiness that contrasts the way his eyes are dimmed, hair a mess atop his head.

because that’s who satoru is– who he’s supposed to be. the weight of the world rests on his shoulders, a burden so heavy it dilutes, erases one’s sense of self because if he isn’t the strongest, what else is there to be?

for a fraction of the moment, you let him comfort you– chuckle like everything is the way it was. you miss the sound of his voice, the annoying cackle he lets out just before laughing– most of all, you miss him. the satoru that isn’t a shell of the person he used to be.

your hands glide down the expanse of his back while your eyes roam his face– you take in every individual wound, each a reminder of what he fought for and lost. you wonder what looks back at him when he stares in the mirror.

“i know that,” you mumble, lifting a hand to cup his cheek, gently thumbing his dimple. “but remember what shoko said? it’ll be better if we put some ointment on them.”

“right. right.” the roll of his eyes might have been endearing had he not stiffened at your words. “we should have my wounds healed so they look less ugly.”

the term wound sounds like such an insult for how gentle your touches are when he’s with you.

“hey,” you whisper, watching as his eyelashes flutter the moment your hand threads through his hair. “they’re not ugly, satoru. no part of you could ever be ugly.”

you don’t let him speak, shake your head when he opens his mouth to object. “they’re like stars, y’know?”

“i think you meant to say ‘like pimples,’” he snorts, sounding playful as he waves a hand to dismiss your statement, but you can see it– the hatred and anger deeply rooted in his tone. “or ugly warts.”

“they’re a constellation of stars, satoru. one that’s written on your skin.” you tilt his head upwards, watch as his pupils dilate– a sea of black drowning in blue. he shivers, spine straightening when your fingers trace his jawline. “each one so pretty like they were individually brushed on by a painter.”

you press a kiss to his lips, let him feel the expanse of your love as your hands move before they rest on his chest– you feel his heart thud against your palm, a gentle but needed reminder that even when all else fails, you still have one another. “you are my world and all my stars, satoru. the sky would be so empty without you.”

“then, i’ll consider them yours,” he whispers after a moment of reprieve, leaning his forehead against yours– he lets his façade fall, unhooks the mask he wears for the world. baring his soul wide for you to see. you soften at the tears that pool in his eyes, like diamonds glistening in a storm. “just like how i am too.”

to most people, the strongest may have fallen– but, in your eyes, he’s still your saving grace.

#— ; icymi #— ; srb

[saekkas]

𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐓

summary: the day gojo satoru came home, everything changed– the day the strongest returned scarred, something shifted.

tags: 775 wc | gender neutral reader | angst with some fluff mixed in | slight manga spoilers | satoru keeps his scars from his fight with sukuna | deals with depression and loss

it’s warm. the chilly, almost numbing, weather from winter has thawed– leaving behind patches of ashen snow. the birds chirp outside of your apartment window, calling out to each other as they huddle for warmth.

you watch, enraptured, as a mother bird guards its fledgelings– it preens their wings, maintains its nest by scourging for branches and thickets alike, spreads its wings for when a threat comes near.

it’s almost endearing, how human and animal nature mirror each other so well.

“you okay?” the touch of your hand is feather light, leaving no trace as they trail down satoru’s back. your lover’s quiet– almost uncharacteristically so as he lets you tend to the scars that now litter down his back and throughout his body.

“i’m good,” satoru hums, his eyes plastered on the mugs that are nestled on your nightstand. on some days, when the memories haunt him more than they should, he refuses to speak altogether– lips pressed tight against each other, shoulders slumped as he cradles himself on the bed.

it’s warm, he once told you, eyes so vacant and empty. devoid of the usual bright blue spark they carry.  i like it when it’s warm.

“does it hurt?” you know it doesn’t– know that after what he’s been through, everything’s just another shade of numb. and yet, the tiny whisper in your mind wonders if he truly understands what you’re asking. “you can tell me, y’know? that’s the only way i can help.”

“they’re healed. nothing hurts. not one bit.” satoru grins, showing off his boyish, almost childlike happiness that contrasts the way his eyes are dimmed, hair a mess atop his head.

because that’s who satoru is– who he’s supposed to be. the weight of the world rests on his shoulders, a burden so heavy it dilutes, erases one’s sense of self because if he isn’t the strongest, what else is there to be?

for a fraction of the moment, you let him comfort you– chuckle like everything is the way it was. you miss the sound of his voice, the annoying cackle he lets out just before laughing– most of all, you miss him. the satoru that isn’t a shell of the person he used to be.

your hands glide down the expanse of his back while your eyes roam his face– you take in every individual wound, each a reminder of what he fought for and lost. you wonder what looks back at him when he stares in the mirror.

“i know that,” you mumble, lifting a hand to cup his cheek, gently thumbing his dimple. “but remember what shoko said? it’ll be better if we put some ointment on them.”

“right. right.” the roll of his eyes might have been endearing had he not stiffened at your words. “we should have my wounds healed so they look less ugly.”

the term wound sounds like such an insult for how gentle your touches are when he’s with you.

“hey,” you whisper, watching as his eyelashes flutter the moment your hand threads through his hair. “they’re not ugly, satoru. no part of you could ever be ugly.”

you don’t let him speak, shake your head when he opens his mouth to object. “they’re like stars, y’know?”

“i think you meant to say ‘like pimples,’” he snorts, sounding playful as he waves a hand to dismiss your statement, but you can see it– the hatred and anger deeply rooted in his tone. “or ugly warts.”

“they’re a constellation of stars, satoru. one that’s written on your skin.” you tilt his head upwards, watch as his pupils dilate– a sea of black drowning in blue. he shivers, spine straightening when your fingers trace his jawline. “each one so pretty like they were individually brushed on by a painter.”

you press a kiss to his lips, let him feel the expanse of your love as your hands move before they rest on his chest– you feel his heart thud against your palm, a gentle but needed reminder that even when all else fails, you still have one another. “you are my world and all my stars, satoru. the sky would be so empty without you.”

“then, i’ll consider them yours,” he whispers after a moment of reprieve, leaning his forehead against yours– he lets his façade fall, unhooks the mask he wears for the world. baring his soul wide for you to see. you soften at the tears that pool in his eyes, like diamonds glistening in a storm. “just like how i am too.”

to most people, the strongest may have fallen– but, in your eyes, he’s still your saving grace.

#— ; icymi #— ; srb

[saekkas]

𝐒𝐀���𝐄𝐓𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐓

summary: the day gojo satoru came home, everything changed– the day the strongest returned scarred, something shifted.

tags: 775 wc | gender neutral reader | angst with some fluff mixed in | slight manga spoilers | satoru keeps his scars from his fight with sukuna | deals with depression and loss

it’s warm. the chilly, almost numbing, weather from winter has thawed– leaving behind patches of ashen snow. the birds chirp outside of your apartment window, calling out to each other as they huddle for warmth.

you watch, enraptured, as a mother bird guards its fledgelings– it preens their wings, maintains its nest by scourging for branches and thickets alike, spreads its wings for when a threat comes near.

it’s almost endearing, how human and animal nature mirror each other so well.

“you okay?” the touch of your hand is feather light, leaving no trace as they trail down satoru’s back. your lover’s quiet– almost uncharacteristically so as he lets you tend to the scars that now litter down his back and throughout his body.

“i’m good,” satoru hums, his eyes plastered on the mugs that are nestled on your nightstand. on some days, when the memories haunt him more than they should, he refuses to speak altogether– lips pressed tight against each other, shoulders slumped as he cradles himself on the bed.

it’s warm, he once told you, eyes so vacant and empty. devoid of the usual bright blue spark they carry.  i like it when it’s warm.

“does it hurt?” you know it doesn’t– know that after what he’s been through, everything’s just another shade of numb. and yet, the tiny whisper in your mind wonders if he truly understands what you’re asking. “you can tell me, y’know? that’s the only way i can help.”

“they’re healed. nothing hurts. not one bit.” satoru grins, showing off his boyish, almost childlike happiness that contrasts the way his eyes are dimmed, hair a mess atop his head.

because that’s who satoru is– who he’s supposed to be. the weight of the world rests on his shoulders, a burden so heavy it dilutes, erases one’s sense of self because if he isn’t the strongest, what else is there to be?

for a fraction of the moment, you let him comfort you– chuckle like everything is the way it was. you miss the sound of his voice, the annoying cackle he lets out just before laughing– most of all, you miss him. the satoru that isn’t a shell of the person he used to be.

your hands glide down the expanse of his back while your eyes roam his face– you take in every individual wound, each a reminder of what he fought for and lost. you wonder what looks back at him when he stares in the mirror.

“i know that,” you mumble, lifting a hand to cup his cheek, gently thumbing his dimple. “but remember what shoko said? it’ll be better if we put some ointment on them.”

“right. right.” the roll of his eyes might have been endearing had he not stiffened at your words. “we should have my wounds healed so they look less ugly.”

the term wound sounds like such an insult for how gentle your touches are when he’s with you.

“hey,” you whisper, watching as his eyelashes flutter the moment your hand threads through his hair. “they’re not ugly, satoru. no part of you could ever be ugly.”

you don’t let him speak, shake your head when he opens his mouth to object. “they’re like stars, y’know?”

“i think you meant to say ‘like pimples,’” he snorts, sounding playful as he waves a hand to dismiss your statement, but you can see it– the hatred and anger deeply rooted in his tone. “or ugly warts.”

“they’re a constellation of stars, satoru. one that’s written on your skin.” you tilt his head upwards, watch as his pupils dilate– a sea of black drowning in blue. he shivers, spine straightening when your fingers trace his jawline. “each one so pretty like they were individually brushed on by a painter.”

you press a kiss to his lips, let him feel the expanse of your love as your hands move before they rest on his chest– you feel his heart thud against your palm, a gentle but needed reminder that even when all else fails, you still have one another. “you are my world and all my stars, satoru. the sky would be so empty without you.”

“then, i’ll consider them yours,” he whispers after a moment of reprieve, leaning his forehead against yours– he lets his façade fall, unhooks the mask he wears for the world. baring his soul wide for you to see. you soften at the tears that pool in his eyes, like diamonds glistening in a storm. “just like how i am too.”

to most people, the strongest may have fallen– but, in your eyes, he’s still your saving grace.

#— ; icymi #— ; srb

[saekkas]

𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐓

summary: the day gojo satoru came home, everything changed– the day the strongest returned scarred, something shifted.

tags: 775 wc | gender neutral reader | angst with some fluff mixed in | slight manga spoilers | satoru keeps his scars from his fight with sukuna | deals with depression and loss

it’s warm. the chilly, almost numbing, weather from winter has thawed– leaving behind patches of ashen snow. the birds chirp outside of your apartment window, calling out to each other as they huddle for warmth.

you watch, enraptured, as a mother bird guards its fledgelings– it preens their wings, maintains its nest by scourging for branches and thickets alike, spreads its wings for when a threat comes near.

it’s almost endearing, how human and animal nature mirror each other so well.

“you okay?” the touch of your hand is feather light, leaving no trace as they trail down satoru’s back. your lover’s quiet– almost uncharacteristically so as he lets you tend to the scars that now litter down his back and throughout his body.

“i’m good,” satoru hums, his eyes plastered on the mugs that are nestled on your nightstand. on some days, when the memories haunt him more than they should, he refuses to speak altogether– lips pressed tight against each other, shoulders slumped as he cradles himself on the bed.

it’s warm, he once told you, eyes so vacant and empty. devoid of the usual bright blue spark they carry.  i like it when it’s warm.

“does it hurt?” you know it doesn’t– know that after what he’s been through, everything’s just another shade of numb. and yet, the tiny whisper in your mind wonders if he truly understands what you’re asking. “you can tell me, y’know? that’s the only way i can help.”

“they’re healed. nothing hurts. not one bit.” satoru grins, showing off his boyish, almost childlike happiness that contrasts the way his eyes are dimmed, hair a mess atop his head.

because that’s who satoru is– who he’s supposed to be. the weight of the world rests on his shoulders, a burden so heavy it dilutes, erases one’s sense of self because if he isn’t the strongest, what else is there to be?

for a fraction of the moment, you let him comfort you– chuckle like everything is the way it was. you miss the sound of his voice, the annoying cackle he lets out just before laughing– most of all, you miss him. the satoru that isn’t a shell of the person he used to be.

your hands glide down the expanse of his back while your eyes roam his face– you take in every individual wound, each a reminder of what he fought for and lost. you wonder what looks back at him when he stares in the mirror.

“i know that,” you mumble, lifting a hand to cup his cheek, gently thumbing his dimple. “but remember what shoko said? it’ll be better if we put some ointment on them.”

“right. right.” the roll of his eyes might have been endearing had he not stiffened at your words. “we should have my wounds healed so they look less ugly.”

the term wound sounds like such an insult for how gentle your touches are when he’s with you.

“hey,” you whisper, watching as his eyelashes flutter the moment your hand threads through his hair. “they’re not ugly, satoru. no part of you could ever be ugly.”

you don’t let him speak, shake your head when he opens his mouth to object. “they’re like stars, y’know?”

“i think you meant to say ‘like pimples,’” he snorts, sounding playful as he waves a hand to dismiss your statement, but you can see it– the hatred and anger deeply rooted in his tone. “or ugly warts.”

“they’re a constellation of stars, satoru. one that’s written on your skin.” you tilt his head upwards, watch as his pupils dilate– a sea of black drowning in blue. he shivers, spine straightening when your fingers trace his jawline. “each one so pretty like they were individually brushed on by a painter.”

you press a kiss to his lips, let him feel the expanse of your love as your hands move before they rest on his chest– you feel his heart thud against your palm, a gentle but needed reminder that even when all else fails, you still have one another. “you are my world and all my stars, satoru. the sky would be so empty without you.”

“then, i’ll consider them yours,” he whispers after a moment of reprieve, leaning his forehead against yours– he lets his façade fall, unhooks the mask he wears for the world. baring his soul wide for you to see. you soften at the tears that pool in his eyes, like diamonds glistening in a storm. “just like how i am too.”

to most people, the strongest may have fallen– but, in your eyes, he’s still your saving grace.

#— ; icymi #— ; srb

[saekkas]

𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐓

summary: the day gojo satoru came home, everything changed– the day the strongest returned scarred, something shifted.

tags: 775 wc | gender neutral reader | angst with some fluff mixed in | slight manga spoilers | satoru keeps his scars from his fight with sukuna | deals with depression and loss

it’s warm. the chilly, almost numbing, weather from winter has thawed– leaving behind patches of ashen snow. the birds chirp outside of your apartment window, calling out to each other as they huddle for warmth.

you watch, enraptured, as a mother bird guards its fledgelings– it preens their wings, maintains its nest by scourging for branches and thickets alike, spreads its wings for when a threat comes near.

it’s almost endearing, how human and animal nature mirror each other so well.

“you okay?” the touch of your hand is feather light, leaving no trace as they trail down satoru’s back. your lover’s quiet– almost uncharacteristically so as he lets you tend to the scars that now litter down his back and throughout his body.

“i’m good,” satoru hums, his eyes plastered on the mugs that are nestled on your nightstand. on some days, when the memories haunt him more than they should, he refuses to speak altogether– lips pressed tight against each other, shoulders slumped as he cradles himself on the bed.

it’s warm, he once told you, eyes so vacant and empty. devoid of the usual bright blue spark they carry.  i like it when it’s warm.

“does it hurt?” you know it doesn’t– know that after what he’s been through, everything’s just another shade of numb. and yet, the tiny whisper in your mind wonders if he truly understands what you’re asking. “you can tell me, y’know? that’s the only way i can help.”

“they’re healed. nothing hurts. not one bit.” satoru grins, showing off his boyish, almost childlike happiness that contrasts the way his eyes are dimmed, hair a mess atop his head.

because that’s who satoru is– who he’s supposed to be. the weight of the world rests on his shoulders, a burden so heavy it dilutes, erases one’s sense of self because if he isn’t the strongest, what else is there to be?

for a fraction of the moment, you let him comfort you– chuckle like everything is the way it was. you miss the sound of his voice, the annoying cackle he lets out just before laughing– most of all, you miss him. the satoru that isn’t a shell of the person he used to be.

your hands glide down the expanse of his back while your eyes roam his face– you take in every individual wound, each a reminder of what he fought for and lost. you wonder what looks back at him when he stares in the mirror.

“i know that,” you mumble, lifting a hand to cup his cheek, gently thumbing his dimple. “but remember what shoko said? it’ll be better if we put some ointment on them.”

“right. right.” the roll of his eyes might have been endearing had he not stiffened at your words. “we should have my wounds healed so they look less ugly.”

the term wound sounds like such an insult for how gentle your touches are when he’s with you.

“hey,” you whisper, watching as his eyelashes flutter the moment your hand threads through his hair. “they’re not ugly, satoru. no part of you could ever be ugly.”

you don’t let him speak, shake your head when he opens his mouth to object. “they’re like stars, y’know?”

“i think you meant to say ‘like pimples,’” he snorts, sounding playful as he waves a hand to dismiss your statement, but you can see it– the hatred and anger deeply rooted in his tone. “or ugly warts.”

“they’re a constellation of stars, satoru. one that’s written on your skin.” you tilt his head upwards, watch as his pupils dilate– a sea of black drowning in blue. he shivers, spine straightening when your fingers trace his jawline. “each one so pretty like they were individually brushed on by a painter.”

you press a kiss to his lips, let him feel the expanse of your love as your hands move before they rest on his chest– you feel his heart thud against your palm, a gentle but needed reminder that even when all else fails, you still have one another. “you are my world and all my stars, satoru. the sky would be so empty without you.”

“then, i’ll consider them yours,” he whispers after a moment of reprieve, leaning his forehead against yours– he lets his façade fall, unhooks the mask he wears for the world. baring his soul wide for you to see. you soften at the tears that pool in his eyes, like diamonds glistening in a storm. “just like how i am too.”

to most people, the strongest may have fallen– but, in your eyes, he’s still your saving grace.

#— ; icymi #— ; srb

[saekkas]

𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐓

summary: the day gojo satoru came home, everything changed– the day the strongest returned scarred, something shifted.

tags: 775 wc | gender neutral reader | angst with some fluff mixed in | slight manga spoilers | satoru keeps his scars from his fight with sukuna | deals with depression and loss

it’s warm. the chilly, almost numbing, weather from winter has thawed– leaving behind patches of ashen snow. the birds chirp outside of your apartment window, calling out to each other as they huddle for warmth.

you watch, enraptured, as a mother bird guards its fledgelings– it preens their wings, maintains its nest by scourging for branches and thickets alike, spreads its wings for when a threat comes near.

it’s almost endearing, how human and animal nature mirror each other so well.

“you okay?” the touch of your hand is feather light, leaving no trace as they trail down satoru’s back. your lover’s quiet– almost uncharacteristically so as he lets you tend to the scars that now litter down his back and throughout his body.

“i’m good,” satoru hums, his eyes plastered on the mugs that are nestled on your nightstand. on some days, when the memories haunt him more than they should, he refuses to speak altogether– lips pressed tight against each other, shoulders slumped as he cradles himself on the bed.

it’s warm, he once told you, eyes so vacant and empty. devoid of the usual bright blue spark they carry.  i like it when it’s warm.

“does it hurt?” you know it doesn’t– know that after what he’s been through, everything’s just another shade of numb. and yet, the tiny whisper in your mind wonders if he truly understands what you’re asking. “you can tell me, y’know? that’s the only way i can help.”

“they’re healed. nothing hurts. not one bit.” satoru grins, showing off his boyish, almost childlike happiness that contrasts the way his eyes are dimmed, hair a mess atop his head.

because that’s who satoru is– who he’s supposed to be. the weight of the world rests on his shoulders, a burden so heavy it dilutes, erases one’s sense of self because if he isn’t the strongest, what else is there to be?

for a fraction of the moment, you let him comfort you– chuckle like everything is the way it was. you miss the sound of his voice, the annoying cackle he lets out just before laughing– most of all, you miss him. the satoru that isn’t a shell of the person he used to be.

your hands glide down the expanse of his back while your eyes roam his face– you take in every individual wound, each a reminder of what he fought for and lost. you wonder what looks back at him when he stares in the mirror.

“i know that,” you mumble, lifting a hand to cup his cheek, gently thumbing his dimple. “but remember what shoko said? it’ll be better if we put some ointment on them.”

“right. right.” the roll of his eyes might have been endearing had he not stiffened at your words. “we should have my wounds healed so they look less ugly.”

the term wound sounds like such an insult for how gentle your touches are when he’s with you.

“hey,” you whisper, watching as his eyelashes flutter the moment your hand threads through his hair. “they’re not ugly, satoru. no part of you could ever be ugly.”

you don’t let him speak, shake your head when he opens his mouth to object. “they’re like stars, y’know?”

“i think you meant to say ‘like pimples,’” he snorts, sounding playful as he waves a hand to dismiss your statement, but you can see it– the hatred and anger deeply rooted in his tone. “or ugly warts.”

“they’re a constellation of stars, satoru. one that’s written on your skin.” you tilt his head upwards, watch as his pupils dilate– a sea of black drowning in blue. he shivers, spine straightening when your fingers trace his jawline. “each one so pretty like they were individually brushed on by a painter.”

you press a kiss to his lips, let him feel the expanse of your love as your hands move before they rest on his chest– you feel his heart thud against your palm, a gentle but needed reminder that even when all else fails, you still have one another. “you are my world and all my stars, satoru. the sky would be so empty without you.”

“then, i’ll consider them yours,” he whispers after a moment of reprieve, leaning his forehead against yours– he lets his façade fall, unhooks the mask he wears for the world. baring his soul wide for you to see. you soften at the tears that pool in his eyes, like diamonds glistening in a storm. “just like how i am too.”

to most people, the strongest may have fallen– but, in your eyes, he’s still your saving grace.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagine #gojo x reader #gojo imagine #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru x reader #satoru imagine #satoru x you #satoru x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #gojo fluff #satoru fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk imagines #jjk fluff

[saekkas]

🦀

#shooo pwettyyy !! #baby ill shower you with all the crabs in the world <3 #— ; rin rbs

[saekkas]

“The best way to hone your skills and develop your own style is to just do the work. Over and over again. The more you create, the more natural it becomes. The more natural it becomes, the less you think. And when you stop thinking, this is when the magic really begins to happen.”

— Seth Apter (via artpropelled)

#— ; rin rbs #hi if anyone sees this im sorry for disappearing haha lifes been hectic 🥹

[saekkas]

i just think gojo satoru’s love is so massive you literally drown in it

#— ; rin rbs

[saekkas]

gojo would physically throw up if he found out you got an uber somewhere when he was free and could’ve driven you himself

#— ; rin rbs

[saekkas]

#cute #— ; rin rbs

[saekkas]

𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖

summary: in which suguru geto helps brush your hair after a ride around town.

tags: 1.1k wc | f!reader | established relationship (they're dating) | some talks about insecurity and greed (doesn't delve into it much) | domestic au | no curse au | suguru is alive and well | satoru gives you a ride on his motorcycle (wink)

notes: my first time writing for sugu <333 forgive me if he's ooc here (。>︿<)_θ constructive feedback is always welcomed!

the apartment satoru parks in front of is nothing compared to the picket white fence, three story house you just visited.

in all honesty, the apartment is fine. it’s located in the middle of the city, only a ten-minute walk to where you work, the lift runs smoothly, security personnel are always on stand-by at the lobby, and you have an amazing view from the tenth floor.

even then, everything just seems to be lacking in one way or the other– the door to your apartment always creaks when you push it open, the neighbors are a tad too noisy, and every morning, the sound of honking horns never fail to wake you from your well-deserved sleep.

human nature is such a fickle thing– always so greedy, wanting more, more, and more. you pride yourself in how much you’ve accomplished, yet at the same time, it feels as if you’re still somehow behind every other person there is.

“i’m glad my pretty’s still alive and in one piece.”

the drawl of suguru’s voice is always a welcomed distraction– the sound just a little bit breathless when he calls your name. he waves from the lobby’s entrance before heading towards where you’re perched on satoru’s bike, hands still wrapped around the latter’s midsection.

hold onto him tight. i don’t care if you break his ribs, just get home safe, okay? suguru’s words still echo in your mind, along with satoru’s indignant shouts of hey! i’ll have you know, i passed my driver’s exam with flying colors!

the sight of your lover’s face is slightly obscured by your helmet’s visor– only half his face is visible to your eyes, and you giggle when he taps the top of the protective headgear. “sugu!”

“let me get that off for you,” he hums. his hands make quick work, unlatching the helmet’s buckle before gently lifting the visor, giving you a clear view of his eyes.

you’ve seen suguru’s eyes time and time again, whether in the morning or night. they’re pools of chocolate you melt into every day after coming home from work, amber-gold whenever he tilts his head as he laughs, the sun highlighting the colors even more–they’re a gentle reminder of how kindness and warmth can still persevere even in the midst of chaos.

“hello, beautiful.” there’s a ghost of a smile on his lips, one that resembles satoru’s a little too much for your liking. “what are you looking at, hm? need my help taking off the helmet?”

you shake your head, still a little too starstruck by his eyes and the smile that spreads on his lips. suguru’s nothing but a gentleman– he offers his hand, wrapping one arm around your waist when your feet touch solid ground after what felt like years. "i'm good. thank you, baby."

he doesn't say a word, eyes soft as he helps take your helmet off either way. he holds the headgear in one hand, and you giggle, giddy, when he lifts a hand to pat your hair down– smoothing down the wild strands that cover your eyes.

the lovestruck expression on his face pinches into one of confusion when you shake your head– the tresses on your head flying wildly and back into your eyes. suguru huffs out a laugh before smoothing his hand against your hair– pressing a kiss to your forehead, all the while keeping eye contact. "what are you doing?"

you grin, wide and bright enough to let anyone in the vicinity know how much you're in love. "nothing."

he leans in, whispering sweet nothings against your ear, and you laugh when satoru lets out a groan. “is this what i get for safely driving your girl around town?”

“it’s not our fault that you’re single,” you quip, poking your tongue out at the white-haired menace before suguru even has the chance to open his mouth.

said male laughs, patting satoru’s back before he has the chance to rebut and cause a scene. “thank you, satoru. i’ll treat you to mochi next time.”

you both watch with amused expressions as satoru grumbles out a response of i’ll make sure to empty your bank account before he revs the engines and disappears into the night.

“he’s rubbing off on you.”

“no, he’s rubbing off on you!” the gasp you let out is pure dramatics, more so the hand that you put on your chest– imitating what you’ve seen satoru do hundreds of times before. “you’re even starting to use cheesy nicknames like him.”

“cheesy?”

the security guard nods his head as you both head into the apartment, playful banter filling the air. you keep up with suguru’s strides, quickly slipping into the lift, standing right next to him before the doors close.

he lifts a hand– one so delicate that your cheeks warm under his touch. “i thought you liked it, pretty?”

he’s always this way with you; soft, sweet, and gentle as if you’re a fragile piece of glass in a museum’s exhibit. there are hints of fatigue etched across suguru’s features– the way his shoulders droop as he walks and the darkening bags under his eyes, but when he’s with you, it’s as if he’s found the strength to keep moving onward.

as if your presence is what keeps him going.

“see?” you mumble, pushing past him as the doors open to your floor. you can hear his laughter, hear the soft thudding of his footsteps against the carpet as he keeps up with you, practically wrapping around you when you unlock the apartment door. “absolutely insufferable.”

“so mean, love.” his words are muffled against the fabric of your sweater, his hands wrapped snugly around your waist– there’s something about him these days. how he’s turned clingy, melting into a mush anytime you let him close to you.

for a moment, everything is silent– only the touch of suguru’s fingers, running through your hair.

“want me to help?” he mumbles, the sound of his voice startling you out of the sleepy state his fingers have coaxed you into. “i know how it gets after you go riding.”

it’s a tradition between you– one you know he knows goes without saying. you plop down between his legs, leaning until your back meets his chest. suguru’s hands are gentle as they brush through every strand, smoothing his hairbrush against the tangled ends.

once he's satisfied, he presses a kiss to the top of your head– suguru loves to play with your hair, the same way you do his. it could take him hours to fix your hair because of what he claims to be a single naughty strand.

in all honesty, suguru just loves you– thrives on being able to touch any part of you. even the thinnest ones.

“thank you, sugu.” you press a kiss to his cheek before laying your head on his shoulder. the pitter patter of rain hits the apartment’s windows, and the sky turns dark, the perfect ambience for a nap. “love you.”

you fall asleep after hearing his sweet whisper of love you too, dreaming of a life where it’s just you and him– white picket fence and all.

#— ; icymi #— ; srb

[saekkas]

𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖

summary: in which suguru geto helps brush your hair after a ride around town.

tags: 1.1k wc | f!reader | established relationship (they're dating) | some talks about insecurity and greed (doesn't delve into it much) | domestic au | no curse au | suguru is alive and well | satoru gives you a ride on his motorcycle (wink)

notes: my first time writing for sugu <333 forgive me if he's ooc here (。>︿<)_θ constructive feedback is always welcomed!

the apartment satoru parks in front of is nothing compared to the picket white fence, three story house you just visited.

in all honesty, the apartment is fine. it’s located in the middle of the city, only a ten-minute walk to where you work, the lift runs smoothly, security personnel are always on stand-by at the lobby, and you have an amazing view from the tenth floor.

even then, everything just seems to be lacking in one way or the other– the door to your apartment always creaks when you push it open, the neighbors are a tad too noisy, and every morning, the sound of honking horns never fail to wake you from your well-deserved sleep.

human nature is such a fickle thing– always so greedy, wanting more, more, and more. you pride yourself in how much you’ve accomplished, yet at the same time, it feels as if you’re still somehow behind every other person there is.

“i’m glad my pretty’s still alive and in one piece.”

the drawl of suguru’s voice is always a welcomed distraction– the sound just a little bit breathless when he calls your name. he waves from the lobby’s entrance before heading towards where you’re perched on satoru’s bike, hands still wrapped around the latter’s midsection.

hold onto him tight. i don’t care if you break his ribs, just get home safe, okay? suguru’s words still echo in your mind, along with satoru’s indignant shouts of hey! i’ll have you know, i passed my driver’s exam with flying colors!

the sight of your lover’s face is slightly obscured by your helmet’s visor– only half his face is visible to your eyes, and you giggle when he taps the top of the protective headgear. “sugu!”

“let me get that off for you,” he hums. his hands make quick work, unlatching the helmet’s buckle before gently lifting the visor, giving you a clear view of his eyes.

you’ve seen suguru’s eyes time and time again, whether in the morning or night. they’re pools of chocolate you melt into every day after coming home from work, amber-gold whenever he tilts his head as he laughs, the sun highlighting the colors even more–they’re a gentle reminder of how kindness and warmth can still persevere even in the midst of chaos.

“hello, beautiful.” there’s a ghost of a smile on his lips, one that resembles satoru’s a little too much for your liking. “what are you looking at, hm? need my help taking off the helmet?”

you shake your head, still a little too starstruck by his eyes and the smile that spreads on his lips. suguru’s nothing but a gentleman– he offers his hand, wrapping one arm around your waist when your feet touch solid ground after what felt like years. "i'm good. thank you, baby."

he doesn't say a word, eyes soft as he helps take your helmet off either way. he holds the headgear in one hand, and you giggle, giddy, when he lifts a hand to pat your hair down– smoothing down the wild strands that cover your eyes.

the lovestruck expression on his face pinches into one of confusion when you shake your head– the tresses on your head flying wildly and back into your eyes. suguru huffs out a laugh before smoothing his hand against your hair– pressing a kiss to your forehead, all the while keeping eye contact. "what are you doing?"

you grin, wide and bright enough to let anyone in the vicinity know how much you're in love. "nothing."

he leans in, whispering sweet nothings against your ear, and you laugh when satoru lets out a groan. “is this what i get for safely driving your girl around town?”

“it’s not our fault that you’re single,” you quip, poking your tongue out at the white-haired menace before suguru even has the chance to open his mouth.

said male laughs, patting satoru’s back before he has the chance to rebut and cause a scene. “thank you, satoru. i’ll treat you to mochi next time.”

you both watch with amused expressions as satoru grumbles out a response of i’ll make sure to empty your bank account before he revs the engines and disappears into the night.

“he’s rubbing off on you.”

“no, he’s rubbing off on you!” the gasp you let out is pure dramatics, more so the hand that you put on your chest– imitating what you’ve seen satoru do hundreds of times before. “you’re even starting to use cheesy nicknames like him.”

“cheesy?”

the security guard nods his head as you both head into the apartment, playful banter filling the air. you keep up with suguru’s strides, quickly slipping into the lift, standing right next to him before the doors close.

he lifts a hand– one so delicate that your cheeks warm under his touch. “i thought you liked it, pretty?”

he’s always this way with you; soft, sweet, and gentle as if you’re a fragile piece of glass in a museum’s exhibit. there are hints of fatigue etched across suguru’s features– the way his shoulders droop as he walks and the darkening bags under his eyes, but when he’s with you, it’s as if he’s found the strength to keep moving onward.

as if your presence is what keeps him going.

“see?” you mumble, pushing past him as the doors open to your floor. you can hear his laughter, hear the soft thudding of his footsteps against the carpet as he keeps up with you, practically wrapping around you when you unlock the apartment door. “absolutely insufferable.”

“so mean, love.” his words are muffled against the fabric of your sweater, his hands wrapped snugly around your waist– there’s something about him these days. how he’s turned clingy, melting into a mush anytime you let him close to you.

for a moment, everything is silent– only the touch of suguru’s fingers, running through your hair.

“want me to help?” he mumbles, the sound of his voice startling you out of the sleepy state his fingers have coaxed you into. “i know how it gets after you go riding.”

it’s a tradition between you– one you know he knows goes without saying. you plop down between his legs, leaning until your back meets his chest. suguru’s hands are gentle as they brush through every strand, smoothing his hairbrush against the tangled ends.

once he's satisfied, he presses a kiss to the top of your head– suguru loves to play with your hair, the same way you do his. it could take him hours to fix your hair because of what he claims to be a single naughty strand.

in all honesty, suguru just loves you– thrives on being able to touch any part of you. even the thinnest ones.

“thank you, sugu.” you press a kiss to his cheek before laying your head on his shoulder. the pitter patter of rain hits the apartment’s windows, and the sky turns dark, the perfect ambience for a nap. “love you.”

you fall asleep after hearing his sweet whisper of love you too, dreaming of a life where it’s just you and him– white picket fence and all.

#— ; icymi #— ; srb