slightlysugawara - Tumblr blog

slightlysugawara · 6 months

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐝𝐈𝐧 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 — gojo satoru

summary: you get hit on by the cute barista at your favorite cafe and gojo simultaneously thinks it's awful but funny. genre: fluff!! friends to lovers, in my head this is a college au notes: this happened to me irl (aware), gn!reader wc: ~1.9k

"hey, I was wondering if I could get your linkedin?"

you look up from your laptop, meeting the gaze of the cute barista that always takes your order. you can see shoko stifling a laugh from the corner of your eye, and you can't help the way your eyebrows furrow at the question.

"what?"

"i'm sorry, that was weird," the barista, sato, immediately says. "can i actually get your instagram instead?"

"sure," you respond, a giggle escaping your lips at his words. "i don't have a linkedin so instagram would be better."

shoko watches silently, lips clamped together as her eyes shine with amusement. you feel a slight giddiness as you type your username into his phone, and he sends you a follow request before giving you a cute smile.

"i'll text you later," he says softly, sending you a small wave before heading back behind the counter. you can feel shoko's eyes on you, and you keep your gaze down, refusing to meet her eyes.

"linkedin?" she whispers when she finally gets your attention. you give her a flat look, and she brings her hand up to her lips to smother her laughter. "really?"

"it was endearing!" you hiss in response, scoffing to cover up your own giggle. "he's sweet!"

"he's funny, i'll give him that," shoko retorts, taking a sip of her drink.

"he's cute!"

"i thought you were into gojo."

"i am," you say, giving shoko a tired look. "but he doesn't like me. and besides, is it so bad to have an interest in someone who isn't unattainable?"

"i wouldn't say he's unattainable," she mumbles, chuckling at your confused look.

"hey!"

you look away from shoko when you hear gojo's voice, and you give him a wide smile in greeting as he slides into the seat next to you. shoko mutters a distracted greeting in return, her eyes still focused on you. it's silent for a minute as you stare back at her evenly, and gojo looks back and forth between the two of you before narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

"what's going on? he asks, silence ensuing before shoko speaks.

"oh, something," she says mysteriously, waving gojo off as you give her an exasperated look.

"what something?" gojo asks, whining when his question goes ignored.

"that something is nothing," you say casually, pulling your headphones out of your bag. you slide them over your ears, just barely blocking out gojo as he tries to ask you about something before turning to bug shoko instead. you can see them conversing out of the corner of your eye, and you pretend to focus on your homework when you notice them side-eye you.

the rest of your homework gets done without any more interruptions, and shoko remains quiet until you finally pull your headphones down around your neck and begin to stretch. you quickly hush her as she starts to ask a question, and she simply rolls her eyes before muttering something under her breath.

"are you heading home?" gojo asks, sunglasses perched on his head as he rubs his eyes. you nod once, raising an eyebrow when he jumps out of his seat and shoves all of his things in to his backpack. "cool. i'll walk you."

"o...kay," you say slowly, giving him a confused look. he gives you a grin in return, pushing your chair in when you stand up before casually slinging an arm around your shoulders. you say a quiet goodbye to shoko, your sudden nervousness causing you to miss the knowing look she sends towards gojo as he leads you past the counter and out the door.

you don't miss the smug look he sends sato as he opens the door for the both of you.

it's abnormally quiet as you and gojo walk down the street, his arm still wrapped snuggly around you.

you can't help the way your gaze keeps drifting to the hand hanging off of your shoulder, and you miss the way gojo smiles at your confusion, merely pulling you in closer to his side as he walks towards your place. it wasn't out of the norm for gojo to be touchy, but it was usually directed towards geto, who was currently nowhere to be found.

you open your mouth to speak, hesitating slightly as gojo watches with an amused look on his face. his lips twitch when you nod to yourself before finally turning to face him.

"so—"

"so what was that?" gojo interrupts, his lips breaking out into a smile when you give him an irritated look. it's a fleeting, quickly being replaced by slight confusion before your eyes brighten up in faint understanding.

"what?" you ask anyways, waiting for a concrete answer from gojo. he rolls his eyes teasingly, leaning down to poke your cheek with his free hand. you feel your cheeks heat up at the action, and you simply hope that gojo doesn't notice the mildly flustered look on your face.

"the thing shoko was talking about?" gojo elaborates. "y'know, that something?"

you laugh lightly, finally giving in to gojo's curiosity as you come to a stop on the street corner.

"it really isn't that big of a deal," you say, waving a hand. "you know how shoko can be. it's just that something kind of silly happened today. y'know that cute barista?"

"cute barista?" gojo asks, his eyes flashing with an emotion you can't quite discern. you nod in response, and gojo merely hums before looking away.

"mmhmm," you confirm. "the one with the glasses."

"really?" gojo asks in surprise, his nose scrunching up in distaste. "him?"

"yes, him. he flirted with me today," you continue, pausing slightly as the streetlight changes. "it was kind of funny."

"oh? was it?" gojo asks, fixing his sunglasses in an attempt to appear unbothered. "how so?"

"he uh, he asked for my linkedin," you say with a smile. gojo can't stop the laugh that escapes his lips at your words, and you try to fight back your own laughter as he looks at you over his sunglasses in disbelief.

"linkedin?" he asks loudly. you swat at his chest as you shush him, and you smile fondly as you feel his chest rumbling with laughter. you roll your eyes when he keeps laughing, and he wipes a fake tear away from his eye before calming down. "ah, that's a good one."

"shut up!" you scold, looking down at your feet as you try to hide a smile. "he apologized and asked for my instagram afterwards. he seemed kinda nervous. i dunno, i think it was cute."

"didn't know you were into the shy, quiet types," gojo comments softly, coming to a stop when he sees the pensive look on your face.

"i'm not, but he's cute and it's kind of nice to be flirted with," you reply softly, bringing your phone out when it dings. you bite back a smile as you open instagram, swiping to your dms to see an unread message from sato.

"then?" gojo prompts, trying to turn your attention from your phone to his. "what's your type?"

"it's uh," you begin to say, your previously suppressed smile breaking out on your lips as your fingers fly across your phone's keyboard. gojo tries to wait for your response patiently, he really does, but he can't stop himself from plucking the device out of your hands and pulling away from you.

"hey!" you yell, following after gojo in an attempt to retrieve your phone. all your efforts go unnoticed, and gojo simply turns to the side, holding you at a distance with one hand as he uses the other to type out a message. "give it back!"

"sure!" gojo says, giggling weaving in between his words as he speaks. "as soon as i finish this and you tell me your type."

"i don't see why that's important," you grumble, glaring at gojo as he finishes typing and locks your phone.

"just answer the question!" he huffs, eyes turning back to your phone when it dings once again. your eyes widen as one notification turns into five, and you watch as gojo's eyes widen in amusement before he pockets your phone. you cross your arms as gojo turns his full attention to you, eyes half-hidden behind his shades but still glinting with excitement as he waves his hand for you to continue.

you remain quiet for a moment, trying to figure out why gojo was being even more of a pain than usual. he taps his foot impatiently as he waits for your response, crossing his arms in a clear imitation of you as he leans in.

"well?" he asks, shaking his head when a stray piece of hair falls into his eye.

your eyes light up in realization when you think about the way gojo incessantly bugged shoko, poking her with his pen again and again until she had given in and started answering his questions. you remember the "sly" looks they sent your way as they spoke in hushed tones, presumably about what had transpired right before gojo walked into the cafe. a smile appears on your face when you remember the look gojo had sent in sato's direction as you walked out of the cafe, and you take a deep breath before deciding to take a leap of faith when you recall the words shoko had spoken before she had been interrupted by the very person standing in front of you.

"i wouldn't say he's unattainable."

"well," you finally say, snickering when you see gojo watching you with rapt attention. you uncross your arms to bring a hand up to your chin, pretending to think over your words. "i think my type tends to be tall, pretty, and exceptionally annoying."

"huh?" gojo asks, eyebrows scrunching in confusion. you see a brief look of understanding flit across his face, and you immediately keep speaking before he can continue.

"intelligent too," you add, humming to yourself as he grins. "oh! and they need to have the annoying habit of wearing a stupid pair of sunglasses everywhere."

"you think i'm pretty?" gojo asks, reaching out to grab your forearms. he pulls you into him gently, giving you plenty of time to pull away. his smile only grows when you begrudgingly give into his antics, rolling your eyes at him as he loops your arms around his neck. his hands settle on your waist as he tilts his head, waiting for a response.

"i guess," you mumble, tugging at the short hairs at the nape of his neck when he pouts. "you're annoying."

"but you like that, apparently," gojo shoots back, his smile still present. you can't help but laugh at his words, your own smile lingering when he leans down to whisper into your ear.

"so, can i get your linkedin?"

bonus— gojo's convo w/ sato on your phone:

sato: hey! i just wanted to say that i think you're really cute and that i was wondering if you wanted to go out for coffee sometime?

you: i'm sorry, you seem really sweet but i have a boyfriend. you know, that super tall, super handsome guy who was sitting next to me?

sato: i'm really sorry! sato: i didn't know, i promise sato: i wish you the best of luck with your boyfriend :) sato: the two of you look really cute together sato: can i get your friend's instagram?

rbs are appreciated <3 ty for reading!!

#sighs #will that EVER happen to me #gonna have to use up all my luck for that ig #✰. fave !

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slightlysugawara · 7 months

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"oh my god satoru you look so cute here!"

"wait wait wait, don't look at those!"

you were currently holding a picture of satoru in your hands. it's nothing you haven't done before, going to the corner store and flipping through recently printed pictures of you and your friends after waiting a week for them to develop.

but this time you weren't holding snapshots of suguru having permanent marker on his face while sleeping or ridiculous photos of satoru and shoko grabbing onto each others hair, fighting over who gets to get the last snack from their stash. this time you held a photo of satoru, except younger. exponentially younger. as in, you just got your hands on a photo of satoru the moment he was born. literally.

like every other newborn he had that faint pink shade on his soft skin, button nose, and little hands that had the chubbiest of fingers. you swore you fell in love all over again with him.

the grown up version of the baby however did not feel the same. he didn't think a visit to his family's prestigious estate would lead to you seeing the one photo he would rather die than having any one of his friends see. he'd rather have you take a photo of him falling flat on his face on a pile of garbage actually.

how you came across that photo of him, he has no idea. you both were currently residing in his old bedroom, laid down on the old tatami mats that still smelled new. all he remembers is you getting up to look for something within the old cabinets of his room before you exclaimed about your recent discovery.

"oh there's more, lemme see."

"nononononono, no! you've already seen enough!"

satoru tried desperately to snatch the small box of photos that was now on the floor. seriously who put this here?? — maybe his mother heard of how he was bringing you along for the weekend and planted a little surprise for you to find. he was unsuccessful, again, as you seemed to be faster than the strongest now since the box was now sitting on your lap — the stack of photos now in your hands as you flipped through them one by one.

"you used to wear such cute things too! look at that, it's a little onesie with a duck pattern!"

satoru was now internally screaming, his ears blowing out steam now from embarrassment. they must be, since he could feel his face rise in temperature faster than ever, he might even be a new shade of scarlet now. he's resorted now to lying face first on the floor, burying his face in his arms trying to shield himself from your commentary.

he didn't budge when you poked him with your fingers, trying to show him photos of his even younger self. satoru won't deny it, he was cute as a baby. the cutest even (his ego was whispering that) — but to have you witness him in all his newborn glory? that was too much for him. now his image was shattered (the one he created in his head), you won't look at him the same anymore. you'll only think the words cute and adorable, and so on after this. no more comments on how hot he was, how undeniably attractive his smile was.

satoru gojo, was indefinitely, ruined.

that was at least his way of thinking. you were internally dying on the inside.

to think that at such a young age, satoru still held the most striking pair of eyes you've ever seen. even as a baby you could see that he held the heavens and even the depths of hell in them. you can see why many people whispered how his birth had changed everything in the jujutsu world.

but even so, you couldn't bring yourself to care about those old rumors. right now, you were focusing on just how cute he used to look, back when he was just a couple of pounds and was drowning in innocence that any baby had.

"hey satoru?"

"..mm?", well at least you got a reaction.

"who took these photos anyway?"

you had to wait a few seconds until you heard him shuffle, moving on all fours before sitting up and placing himself right next to you. the embarrassment had died down, just a bit. there was still evident pink on his neck, ears, and cheeks.

"it was mostly just my mom and the maids. they were the ones who always dressed me up too."

that made you smile, the image of a fussy satoru not wanting to put baby gloves on with a matching outfit — it was too good not to imagine. a few moments passed before satoru carefully snatched a handful of photos from you. you were about to protest when he began telling you the story behind each of them, or well, the ones he could remember.

maybe you seeing him like that wasn't so bad after all.

p.s., now he's totally gonna send some of these to the group chat. bet he was a cuter looking baby than suguru and shoko anyway.

#✰. fave !

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slightlysugawara · 7 months

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PAY YOUR RENT!

summary: gojo doesn’t seem to understand the concept of roommates and rent. to appease your stress, he offers another way of payment. except, he doesn’t take it well when you fail to uphold that promise for one night.

warnings: ooc…, richboy gojo 🫡, college au, he’s kinda entitled and nonchalant but then he’s clingy, jealous avoiding feelings gojo shrug

A/N: pt 38573892 of me writing for sth i dont read OR watch …im fucking crying this monstrosity took two weeks its horrible.

the notion of roommates, brought up by his best friend, was completely new to satoru. he’s heard of it here and there from other students — complaints, funny stories, some hapless crushes few and far between. as far as he knew, it was the college experience he had failed to receive because there never was a need to share his living space with someone. he could afford everything and more so it doesn’t bother him. or so he thinks.

it’s when he’s clinging to suguru’s arms in a mocking affectionate manner. while the dark-haired boy’s face is scrunched with false annoyance, something like “don’t you have any other friends?” leaves his mouth, and satoru whines a no. “why don’t you find someone to live with?” it’s nothing but silly, meaningless banter.

so why do suguru’s words nag in the back of his mind? it’s true that he doesn’t have many friends, but he doesn’t need many, all for good reason. satoru keeps others at arm's length — he’s not a man people are allowed to be close to. there’s a distinct wall between satoru and others, one that’s respected by everyone.

he put up an offer to have some needed fun, that’s all.

though, all that precession doesn’t really matter when he’s sprawled across his velvet couch, waiting for your arrival. even when his door rings, boredom overruns him but he’s up on his feet and at the door.

“gojo? satoru?”

you’re not exactly sure what you were expecting. it was all too sketchy — a plain message of an address followed by a “looking for a roommate” was all that was posted. no rent pricing, no precautions or requirements, an empty profile, and you weren’t sure if it was too bad to be true. worst comes to worst, you’d be kidnapped. free from debt and the stress of finding a place to live at least, you mused.

yet with the looming approach of classes and no secure place to stay weighing on your shoulders, all you could do was take a chance.

living with a man wasn’t your ideal situation, but the prospect of a nearby apartment that was in a nice area overshadowed your existing concerns. yeah, that was it. definitely not the ridiculously beautiful guy standing tall, leaning well over a foot above you right now.

you don’t know how to feel about this chance.

“that’s me. you coming in for a tour?” maybe it’s because you’re unknowingly gawking but he leans down a bit, pushing his face into yours like he had no concept of personal space, never had to worry or think about other people, and staring inquisitively. “yeah?”

you quickly back away.

“y-yeah.”

“good.”

he steps to the left for you to come in and holds out a hand, for your bag you’re assuming. a little more considerate than you thought.

you freeze at the sight of the interior. considering his short post, you wouldn’t have expected such a decorated space — intricate vases sit beside the entrance with water droplets rolling off the lilies’ petals. an all-too-big plush rug is centered in the living room and the kitchen shows itself off with an island of marble and ebony oak. the extravagance of it all slightly resembles the boy in front of you. everything is excessive. mentally, you make a list of gojo’s traits.

reckless. profligate.

“you like what you see? wanna see your bedroom?”

suddenly your hand is in his before you can answer and gojo practically drags you to a room excitedly. he gives you a small smile before pushing the door open and puffs his chest out. you add pushy and forward to the list.

“tada!”

there’s something about his behavior that’s a little childish, a type of whimsical excitement that isn’t contained by his lanky frame. his excitement rubs off on you too, at least for a moment until your eyes move from him to the room; your jaw slacks.

it’s enormous — the size is what you’d expect of an average apartment. it gets larger the more you look; your feet begin to walk on their own, curiosity and disbelief fueling your steps. a massive walk-in closet (completely empty and you aren’t sure what you’d fill it with, anyway), a queen bed with a layered canopy, a chandelier, and a grand piano. your head spins.

“d’ya like it? wanna live here?”

“gojo.”

“hm?”

“i can’t.”

his chirpy smile drops and his brows come down. he’s annoyed. “hah? if you don’t like it, we can move around the stuff. is it the piano? i knew it was too much, i just put it there to-”

“i can’t afford this gojo. it’s really pretty, i really wish i could.” a couple of blinks pass before the same smile is put back on gojo’s face.

“so you do wanna live here! alright, it’s settled.”

“what? no — i just said i couldn’t afford it!”

the boy is already leaving the room; his long strides get him out of the room in a second, forcing you to rush after him. “gojo? hello??”

“i asked if you wanted to live here, not if you could afford it.”

he’s seated on one of the stools by the kitchen island with the tip of a pen poking at the corner of his lips. then, he grabs the paperwork in front of him and waves it at you. “sign.”

you shake your head.

“then let me at least pay what i can. 800?”

pay what you can? yeah right, that’s a month's pay.

did you want to be here that bad? bright sapphire eyes meet yours, sparkling and earnest and you bite your bottom lip — maybe.

“nothing.” your pleas fall on deaf ears by the indifferent expression on his face. he waves his arms around to signal the entire apartment. “free.”

he smirks at the incredulous look on your face.

“700..?”

“no.” he shakes his head. stress crept up onto your shoulders.

“600 and i pay for the groceries,” your sentences falter when the look on his face is unmoving. “…and i’ll do all the chores too.” it felt a little desperate but for all the wrong reasons. he sighs and shakes his head, seemingly annoyed by your constant negotiating. he pinches the bridge of his nose for a bit to think.

“50 and we have dinner together every night,” he finally says, then pauses for a moment. “and no groceries or chores. you’re not a maid.” he holds out his hand, flashing you a pearly grin.

all you do is meekly shake it.

gojo sees you off on the first day of your classes. you’re awoken to the faint smell of cooked rice and he’s there in the kitchen, making breakfast. two bowls sat on the table. you had rushed over to help but he brushed you off, telling you to sit and ‘just eat what i give you, you’ll be late if you try and help.’ so you do, and the two of you who are borderline strangers, share a warm meal. your first meal with gojo satoru is quiet and slow.

he takes your finished bowl to the sink and walks you to the door. he watches you put your shoes on and hands you your keys. he opens the door for you but tugs on your sleeve at the last minute before you can go, insisting that he quickly teaches you the janky mechanics of the card lock and the keypad on the door. it’s not overbearing but you have a hunch that your roommate is the clingy kind.

your day doesn’t spare you. hours of lectures stack on top of each other before sending you off to another couple of hours at work. the ache in your neck and the fatigue tugging at your muscles cause a sigh of relief when the image of your new, plush bed flashes in your mind. like a mirage that keeps you going while sudsing the counters and tables clean, and it’s almost enough to make you forget your promise to gojo. just almost.

you groan at the red light on the drive back home. fucking dinner.

you’re dreading the entrance into the lobby, the wait in the elevator, and the walk in the apartment halls all the way up to the top, where your new home resides; you’re thanking gojo and his ridiculous penthouse for being all the way at the top.

as your fingers fumble with the key card, you wonder how you’d cook for a such a reckless, profligate man (you turned your mental list into a physical one on your notes app). and if you were being honest, you had gossiped straight away to your friends about your new roommate. the rumors proved nothing short of your original expectations too — gojo satoru was a ridiculously unapproachable and affluent man with eccentric and unpredictable tastes.

and you supposed your fingers had shaken so much at that thought that it made enough noise that could be heard from the other side because before you can unlock it, the door opens.

“yo! you’re home late!”

he’s wearing casual clothing, a black shirt that’s much too small, and loose sweats. that paired with his chipper voice makes you second guess the thoughts you had about five seconds ago but you avert your eyes and shake your head.

“i have to close most nights at work, sorry,” he’s doe eyed at your apology, staring as you take off your shoes and coat. “did you already eat?”

“no, you promised remember? i waited.” your stomach churns. there was nothing less you’d want to do than to cook right now, let alone for him.

“right. i’ll get started.” gojo quirks his head at your comment, eyes forming a slight crescent shale before he turns on his heels and disappears into the kitchen. you let a quiet sigh slip and follow.

what you’re not expecting are filled plates sitting on the island, way too many for just two people. at a glance, it’s an assortment of various cuisines. there’s dishes you’ve never seen. your roommate is already seated, leaning over the table like he’s barely holding himself back.

“hurry up, i’m starving!” he whines. you hesitate but move into the seat in front of gojo anyway.

utensils are laid out nicely for you already along with a bowl. as soon as you pick up your chopsticks, the boy goes in. quickly like he’s a starved man (you think about the irony of this) and you wonder how long he’s really waited. you’re staring at him to see how much he can scarf down, making a mental guess in the process. but gojo slowly stops and looks up from his bowl.

“you’re not gonna eat?” he says with his mouth half full, then chews while waiting for your response. you blink.

“no no, i am,” the hand holding your chopsticks hover over the array of plates before grabbing something random and quickly putting it in your mouth. your lips purse into an awkward smile to appease gojo’s burning gaze. “i just wasn’t expecting this.”

“you promised though?”

“i know, it’s just.. i thought you wanted me to cook for you.” those words come out sheepish and muttered but gojo just laughs a little.

“like i said, you’re not my maid.”

gojo, satisfied by the nod of your head, goes back to his meal in the previous unorthodox manner. you keep the tip of your chopsticks in your mouth, poking at your gums and nipping at it mindlessly. your roommate was unpredictable but, maybe, not unapproachable.

satoru didn’t know what came over him when he made that offer to you. there’s not an ounce of reason he can put into making such a one-sided deal. hell, there’s some tiny regret in his mind when he sees your name penned neatly on the document that would legally bind you to his property.

but then he wakes up the day after feeling an unknown sense of relief. knowing that he isn’t alone in an all too big space isn’t too bad, he decides. so instead of his usual, mundane routine of stretching, opening his windows, and falling back asleep, he washes up to go into the kitchen.

he doesn’t know what comes over him either when he’s washing rice and souse vid-ing some fish. for satoru, one cup of rice is enough for him — he pails in two cups into the cooker. he hesitates about each ingredient, unsure of what your allergies and dislikes are. it’s unlike him to be so thoughtful.

and when you’re leaving, it’s just instinct to grab onto you but he doesn’t understand why; he’d rather die than admit that though, so he makes up some faulty explanation about the lock that works perfectly fine. you struggle with it upon coming home so his lie wasn’t really a lie, he justifies.

another thing he doesn’t want to admit is there’s a change in his mundane living. to say that he was miserable before would be an overstatement but not untrue to some extent. it’s more like he realizes how he gets by every day rather than living — your presence proves that. because why is it now that he’s too excited to go to bed each night and too excited to wake up in the morning? he reasons with himself: correlation isn’t causation, right?

these nights go on for days that melt into weeks; time flies quicker than satoru can imagine. unsurprisingly, so do his feelings for you but no, not like that! it’s care and worry: whether or not you’ve eaten, if you need anything at the store, or some homework you’re overwhelmed by — he finds you in his mind often. but not like that.

“satoru, i’m going out for dinner tonight.” one thing satoru is proud of is being on a first-name basis with you within the span of just a month and a half. he nods, continuing to shovel a spoon of rice into his mouth.

“where to? suguru told me this new spot opened near campus but i didn’t want to go without you—”

“on a date, satoru.”

huh?

you wince at the clang of a dropped spoon and he supposes his whole body freezes because there’s an awkward look on your face, with lips biting themselves and darting eyes.

“with who?”

“oh i don’t know.. some guy in my group project just asked me,” fingers lace through your hair and you fidget with a strand. “i thought it’d be good to get off your back for one night. you won’t have to buy a bunch of food later.” he hates the way you’re trying to lighten the mood.

more so, satoru hates the nasty guttural sickness he’s feeling as of currently. calmly, he picks his spoon back up but instead of eating, he focuses on the warped reflection of his face on the back of the spoon. he looks stupid. feels that way too.

“why bother? i already buy you your favorite food all the time,” his grasp on the spoon’s handle grows tighter.

“it’s not the food, satoru. i want a boyfriend, or at least something,” you quip. “besides, if it goes to shit, you get a funny story later.” your roommate gives you an unamused look.

“nothing would go to shit if you were just having dinner with me! you want a date? i’ll give you one — what do you want?” now he’s opening some shopping app on his phone. “wine? live music?”

“it doesn’t matter if it isn’t real! if you’re worried, i’ll be fine,” you huff. “my location is on, 911 on dial, pepper spray in bag.” to that he says nothing. because, yes, he’s always worried about your safety but that’s not it.

there’s something else. but it’s something he doesn’t want to delve deeper into for fear of it being an unknown territory, one that even someone of his caliber can’t handle with ease.

satoru watches you leave for your classes early and eats the rest of his breakfast alone.

there’s too much food on the table. satoru’s staring across from him where an empty seat resides, his hands clasped together while his chin rests atop. next to his also empty plate is his phone with it’s ringer on. the still scene remains like that until he gives in and checks his phone (for the nth time but it’s been five minutes already, so he’s allowed to look again).

no notifications, the time 7:34. the darkness outside his windows confirms his sight and he sighs. a small voice inside satoru urges him to text you, to ask how you are, how your night’s been, what you’re eating, if you’re having fun… but that’s out of the question. that’s desperate, he retorts, which he’s not.

not in a million years would the gojo satoru — top of his class, plenty popular, and more than well off — ever be in this much disarray over someone.

ding!

almost in an instant, he scrambles to unlock his phone and his heart skips one, maybe two, beats at the sight of your name:

y/n 🫶: im omw home

y/n 🫶: lol all the menu items were stuff we’ve already eaten so all i culd think of was u

he slumps back into his chair, biting back a smile, panting out a breath in relief.

fuck, you’ve made him a mess.

it’s true, the text you sent satoru.

you never knew how fun a meal could be until you met your roommate. aside from the lavish food you’ve been introduced to, satoru is just so painfully.. him, that it makes your face sore from smiling so much and your sides tense from all the laughter.

when he’s seriously complaining about some problem from his day that, to anyone else would have been minor, with that familiar childish pout, or listening intently to your stressful thoughts and looking up to you with glassy, curious eyes… it’s enough to spoil you.

yet, you don’t realize how much you’ve really been spoiled by your roommate until your date is trying to spark conversation with you, asking for your favorite drink or what you want off the menu.

satoru would know, you think to yourself. he always does.

as your date comes to a close, you only find yourself growing antsy to talk to satoru, to see his endearing reactions. you don’t even realize the bill is placed in front of you — you’re staring off at the semi-wilted flowers placed on the table; satoru would have complained about how they’re under-watered.

even on the way home, each step leading up to your shared penthouse is unwillingly bouncing with excitement. it’s not until you’re standing at the entrance of your apartment door do you realize your feelings.

fuck, feelings?

once more, the door opens before you can finish your trail of thought or even touch the lock with your card. big arms engulf you into a strong embrace, sandalwood cologne filling your senses and dispelling any troubling thoughts of yours; satoru pulls you in closer, quickly closing the door behind you.

“missed you.” he’s burying his head into your shoulders, hands gently caressing the back of your head. his thumb strokes back and forth in a constant, comforting motion.

it’s his own selfish cravings kicking in now because he knows you can’t move. but the guilt he’s feeling, if any, is severely outweighed by his desire.

“s..satoru-”

“hug me back.”

demanding as ever, his free arm snakes around your waist. your own arms, slowly and hesitating, wrap around his neck. a shaky breath tickles your ear. you’re convinced he’d be content with staying like that for ages — you’d be right. he only pulls back when you’re pushing him off and looks at you like he’s expecting something.

"i missed you too," you guess that's what he's looking for because his neutral face breaks a little, though he coughs quickly and straightens himself up.

"your little date can't beat me, huh?"

"depends on what we're talking about."

usually you'd be more gentle, more patient with him but tonight feels different. you know his ego can't take this; he stops in his tracks and turns his head to the side to look at you a little. he's annoyed in that same, childish way he gets when he's complaining about someone making his coffee too bitter. "don't do that. you know i'm better."

"i dunno, he chose a pretty romantic place.. you're good at everything satoru, but he's got you beat here," you laugh. he frowns, crossing his arms.

“i can do that too.”

“be romantic?”

“and beyond; i’ll change any definition of love you’ve had before. i’ll be the best,” he scraps his original path and walks back to you. “i am the best you’ve ever had.”

nothing can prepare you for his declaration. that and the dizzying distance from him to you, but you remind yourself it’s satoru’s competitive side coming out and nothing more. “you’re all talk.”

“oh yeah?”

warmth wraps your hand and your roommate drags you to the kitchen.

the island’s marble top was now covered by a deep maroon table cloth. lit candles of differing sizes lined the counter tops, their heads already melted off like they’ve been burning for a long time. a fat vase filled to the brim with your favorite flowers sit on each end of the island and all the stools that usually inhabit the sides are gone, leaving only one on each side. and instead of the typical overindulgent assortment of food platters, there’s only two — your favorite meal.

his hands are on your back now, guiding you by the waist to your seat. then, he sits himself across from you.

“romantic enough for you?”

you can’t help but notice the flowers; they’re fresh, still abundant in color and life.

“more than enough. satoru,” you say his name carefully, like you’re unsure of what to tell him. it’s the opposite — you’re trying to not sound stupid. “what’s this for?”

maybe you had missed some important date — was it your birthday? or, his birthday? both of those ideas were quickly shut down by some more sensical thinking.

“you.”

he says it like it’s the most simple, obvious answer ever, as if it resolves any of the confusion in your mind.

“i don’t.. think i get it.”

“i don’t want you to go on any other dates. i can do it all for you, right here and better, forever.”

“is it our promise?” his unwavering, confident cadence is cut short by your question.

no, it wasn’t. there isn’t some stupid contract or agreement going through his head when he’s buying you the biggest and prettiest flowers at the florist’s. he isn’t thinking about a promise to have dinner every night when he’s setting up his hospital white kitchen into something warmer, something more suitable for someone like you. it doesn’t even weigh on him if you’re too busy to join him for dinner, as long as you’re nearby.

and maybe, for months now, he’s already known that. to verbalize it, to tell you this, has been out of the question. but then he looks up to see you sitting patiently, so good for him and only him, surrounded by all the things he’s done to show you he loves you…

“no,” he murmurs. “i want you.”

“i’m here, satoru.”

“no — i want all of you,” wrinkles form around his nose as he concentrates on his next words. “not here, but with me. even if you’re away, you’ll be mine.” he slumps and looks up at you through lidded eyes and white lashes, like a kicked puppy. “say you’ll be mine,” all his ego is gone, leaving nothing but himself at your mercy, hopeful that you’ll feed into his asks.

being around someone eventually makes the both of them similar — so similarly, you’ve never been one to say no to satoru, opting to spoil the boy like he always does with you.

“you’ve always had me, satoru,” you match his whispers, hushed and delicate. he sits up at your words, eyes glittering. tears of happiness maybe, or maybe that’s how he always looks around you, but he blinks them away faster than you can tell.

“so, people usually eat at a dinner date, don’t they?”

“..i already ate, remember?” satoru’s mouth hangs agape in a comical way, his normal demeanor returning.

“fuck, you’re already cheating on me? i could kick you out right now,” you stifle a laugh at his sulking.

“you like me too much for that to ever happen.”

and satoru, before, would hate to even think about that — any possibility he’d be so weak in someone else’s hands, completely void of sense or reason with the vindiction of love. but he’s overjoyed to be yours, and more than willing to be weak if it meant you’d be his.

“yeah, you’re right.” he grins.

“you’ll just have to make it up to me with another date.”

#so giddy rn #like that is smth gojo would actually do change my mind #oh u can't #this was honestly so good my headache is gone op ily for this #✰. fave !

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slightlysugawara · 7 months

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please let this happen jjk237

#crying s9bbing he will live

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slightlysugawara · 7 months

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"Academic rivals with Gojo. Teasing banter, open flirting to get a reaction, something along these lines?" - REQUESTED BY: @thatdazaikin

❦ TYSM FOR THIS🫶

"I don't think I've seen anyone glare so hard at a paper before." Gojo's voice broke through your concentration, his tone dripping with amusement. "What's got ya so upset, (Y/n)?"

A sigh left your lips, your fingers slightly digging into your mission details as you took a moment, took a small breath in... then looked up. Gojo was leaning forward on the table you were seated at, his usual cocky grin present on his face.

Screw this guy, honestly. Just because he was tasked with leading your joint mission, didn't mean he had the right to be all cocky about it.

You felt your eye twitch with annoyance. "Paper killed my family," you stated without hesitation, swiftly rising to your feet and grabbing your bag off the chair next to yours.

"Yikes," came his response, standing up straight as you did. "That particular piece of paper, or...?" His playful eyes flickered to the paper in your tight grasp.

You wanted to smack that grin right off his face. "What's it to you?"

Gojo raised his hands in a mock surrender, light blue eyes appraising you from behind his dark glasses. "Just wondering what's got you so worked up."

You broke off your glare at him only so you could unzip your bag. "Nothing."

But he wasn't convinced—obviously. In one quick movement, he was diving forward and snatching the paper out of your hand before you could slide it into your bag.

"HEY!" You dove over the table at him as well, desperately reaching for the stolen possession, but it was way too late and he was way too tall. With a proud grin, he held the paper up and began reading its contents.

Your palms met the table, your face scrunching up into an annoyed and honestly frustrated expression. "You're so annoying. You can't just take things outta—"

"What's this I see here?" he cut you off, his grin widening even further as he playfully looked down at the paper, adjusting his glasses like an elderly white mom would. "You'll be assisting me on an upcoming mission?"

You felt your eye twitch yet again. "No, I'll be doing equal amounts of work as you on an upcoming mission. It's just a formality to say you're leading it."

"That's not what this says~" He held it out to you again, but you didn't even bother looking at it. You'd been reading it over and over again for the past ten minutes, trying to make sense of it. You were aware of Gojo's strength and capabilities, but it still irked you that he always led missions—especially when you were supposed to be on said mission.

"Okay, yeah, yeah, shut up." You tore the paper from his grasp and stuffed it into your bag.

Gojo crossed his arms over his chest as he tilted his head at you, his huge grin making his eyes crinkle. "Just face it, (Y/n). My name will always be on top."

"I'll see you in a couple weeks when I surpass you, hot shot."

"Oh, so you think I'm hot?" He wriggled his eyebrows at you.

"Can't you ever shut up?"

"'S not my fault every time I check the rankings, my name seems to be on top. But it must be a mistake, right?"

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Well. Maybe I just like giving you a false sense of security."

Gojo suddenly inched closer from across the table, his face just a breath away from yours. "Or maybe you like seeing me on top?" His voice dropped to a sultry whisper.

You felt your cheeks heat up, your mouth falling open in utter shock. "In your dreams, Satoru."

"You say that, but you're in them quite often~"

"I'll literally kill you."

#head in hands #i want him sooo bad #jjk #✰. fave !

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slightlysugawara · 7 months

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“I didn’t know you had moles down your back.”

Kiyoomi pauses briefly to look at you over his shoulder, post shower body care being interrupted with your statement.

“We’ve been together for how long and you never knew that I had more moles on my body?” He asks, going back to applying his moisturizer. “Do you even look at my body?”

“Only the important parts,” you say, shrugging as you let your eyes wander slightly. There are more than a few freckles and moles on the broad space of his back, tracing like a constellation against the paleness of his skin. They lean along the right side of him, a few scattering on the left for an intricate design-

“Holy shit, stop staring at me,” he snickers, his eyes looking at you in the mirror. “I have moles. You kiss the ones on my forehead every morning. Chill.”

You get up and stalk over to him, arms wrapping lowly around his waist and face nuzzling into the dip of his back, “gonna have to kiss these ones too; they’ve been neglected too long.” You plant a few pecks to the bigger ones along his shoulder, and you smirk at the goosebumps that raise from your affection. “Ticklish?”

“I’ll knock you out with this lotion bottle,” he snarls, continuing his routine with you merely an add on to his body.

“Whatever.” You let your nails rake up the dip of his hips, only letting him go when he hisses and bumps his back against you to get you off. You kiss his warm skin one last time before making your way back to the perch on your shared bed, watching as his muscles and moles contort with every shift of his broad body as he applies his deodorant.

“What else are you hiding from me?”

“I’m having an affair,” he says simply.

“With who? Meian?”

“Yes.”

“You could never score Meian.”

“You’re just mad because Meian saw and admired my moles before you.”

You let out a few snorty laughters while he smirks to himself in the mirror, the night settling down into nothing uncommon or surprising, but perfect all the same.

God, you adore him.

“You’re ugly.”

“I love you too.”

#on my knees #he is sooooo #☹☹☹

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slightlysugawara · 7 months

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You let Gojo borrow a pen and he spreads a rumor that you’re dating

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slightlysugawara · 8 months

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third year first years……

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slightlysugawara · 8 months

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thinking about kageyama and grief

i wonder if volleyball ball was the only thing he could do

how alone was he? its so hard to do anything by yourself, its knowing you need to do stuff and just not being able to bc everything feels like youre doing it with 20 lbs weights on all your limbs

staying on the court, that could have been the one place where he felt like he could keep living, no wonder he was so angry, it was his anchor and nobody knew and they weren't seeing how desperate he was to keep going, to keep holding onto this thing that both he and his grandfather found so precious

did the world get that much more impossible the second he stepped off the court?

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slightlysugawara · 9 months

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"Xiao does things" (and friends) twitter log

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slightlysugawara · 9 months

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these hands, like gods + oikawa 🥹

send one + a character and i'll write u a thing

these hands, like gods (and other hand-related headcanons)

ft. oikawa tooru

if you were to ask him what his own favorite feature was, he'd wink and tell you that obviously, it's his face. they don't call it a "money maker" for nothing, y'know? but you know better -- you know that he loves his hands, loves the way the can shape a game, the perfect arc of a ball in the air; loves the way they fit into the shape of you, too, late at night, when he can close his eyes and let his mind and his hands wander; he knows that they'll always, somehow, end up on you

he loves the way you fit between them too, the way your body bends and shifts at his touch, like you're his to be touched -- by him, with him

he always complains that they're too big for normal phones, that his fingers, dexterous as you know they are, always punch more keys than he's trying to hit, his texts full of random typos and the weirdest autocorrects; you have a folder of all his funniest mishaps, and this, too, he knows -- is the shape of your love

these hands, he thinks, are his rhyme and reason -- they're his bread, his butter, the paving stones for his entire future, and he takes care of them the best he can, tells you that once when he was little, he promised himself that he'd only touch the most beautiful things -- like volleyballs and really good poems and you --

he doesn't really like finger tape, but if you're the one who puts it on him, he thinks he doesn't mind it as much

your hand in his sometimes feels like coming home, and other times, he wonders how a person's hand can be so small, so slender and delicate; he wonders if sometimes he holds onto you too tight, if he'd ever accidentally hurt you -- you tell him yes, he has, but you don't mind; it's only ever proof that he wants to be closer, that skin on skin sometimes still isn't enough for him, and you've always known him to be a greedy man, to always want more, more, more...

he traces his fingers along the dips and curves of your body, worships the shape of you with both palms pressed to your skin, his lips carving himself into the hollow of your throat, the warmth of your mouth -- he wants to make himself a home there, a home inside your skin, a home he can sink his fingers into --

"you have the prettiest hands," you tell him. "i know," he says, grinning sweet and lopsided, eyes twinkling as he reaches up to bop your nose, "all the better to hold you with, right?"

#absolutely broken speechless at awe in love #it truly is mwah #tjose hands GOD

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slightlysugawara · 10 months

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PERISH

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader Word count: 1.6k Tags/warnings: no y/n; manga spoilers (post Shibuya timeline); canon-compliant; angst; death; emotional breakdown; hurt/no comfort; loss; grief Summary: For the first time in a long time, Satoru Gojo, the epitome of strength, breaks. Happy start of JJKS2 writing week.

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

November 2018 8 minutes until Satoru Gojo’s unsealing

"Don’t worry, I’ll make it on time. I’m right behind the corner."

"We can wait," Yuji’s voice carries through the car, the static of the Bluetooth speaker occasionally cracking.

It feels like years have passed since you last saw him. Sealed away in the prison realm, Gojo’s state remains a mystery. There’s no telling how being locked in a place where time and space don’t exist can affect even the strongest minds.

That’s what worries you. What if he’ll break? What if he goes crazy on all of you? What if he explodes; wipes you all out with his technique? An endless sea of ‘what if’ swirls inside your mind as you take another turn, the mountains on your left with an ocean view on your right.

"Don’t," you reassure the youngster, "don’t wait any longer."

"You should be here, though," Megumi jumps into the conversation, "You’re closest to that idiot. He’ll want to see you."

His words draw a smile on your lips. It’s finally happening. The sleepless nights are coming to an end with the arrival of your lover.

"Then I’ll just opt for a dramatic entrance while you keep him busy," you respond before tightening your hands on the wheel. A familiar feeling washes over you; sudden knowledge of a new presence. Heart picking up, your eyes search the road for the source while the car’s speed slowly drops.

32 seconds; that’s how long it takes you to locate the source. A curse spirit manifestation stands in the middle of the road, blocking you. Its small hunched build stands a mere meter above the ground; four arms decorated by translucent fins hanging by its body, the prehnite skin glistening in the last rays of today’s sun, giving off a wet, moist appearance.

"Boys," you announce, stopping Yuji’s and Megumi’s bickering while still keeping up the cheerful, light voice in an attempt to not raise suspicions about your current predicament, "don’t wait any longer. Unseal Satoru and stop worrying ‘bout me. It’ll be fine."

Bringing the car to a slow halt, Yuji’s tone shifts into a more attentive one as your name seeps through the speaker before you hang up after one more reassurance.

As you step out of the vehicle, the curse's malevolence engulfs the air, almost tangible in its intensity. It clings to the atmosphere like a poisonous fog, penetrating your senses with a pungent sulfuric odor that threatens to overwhelm you.

Your hand slips inside your jacket to retrieve a carefully preserved seal, reserved for such precarious situations; just like this one.

"I’m sorry," with every footfall, the curse seems to shrink in size, yet its malicious nature grows stronger, the smell of sulfur almost suffocating, "but I’m in a hurry right now and you," pointing the parchment paper towards the spirit, "are in my way."

Swift and precise, your movements carry an aura of practiced precision. With little effort, you firmly press the seal upon the spirit's head, causing it to stumble momentarily before dissipating into thin air, vanquished by the power contained within the sigil.

Yet, the energy lingers.

Stronger than before. Stronger than a second ago. Its absent defense, non-existent attempt to fight or flee…it all makes sense now —

A powerful grip; a strong hand adorned with talons as keen as the finest blades dig into your shoulder as an inhuman force pushes you to the side.

As you're thrust aside, your vision catches a subtle glimmer of chrysolite, a hue that seeps into your perception; its scales are sturdy, each edge honed to a dangerous sharpness. Driven by instinct and the will to protect yourself, you reach out, your hand making contact with the curse spirit’s scaly hide.

The jagged edges of its scales cut into the delicate flesh of your fingers, leaving trails of crimson in their wake.

— it was a decoy.

Your body collides with the unforgiving side of the mountain, back meeting the rough and unyielding surface. A symphony of pain resonates within your bones, their structural integrity compromised as multiple cracks reverberate through your form.

Gasping for breath, your body instinctively seeks solace, but find none amidst the terrain. The curse doesn’t wait either. Swiftly moving forward, it lunges at you. Unforgiving. With a clear intent to strike. To kill.

During Satoru Gojo’s unsealing

There is no pain. The moment the curse’s hand breaches the barrier of your chest, you expect it. Expect some kind of visceral reaction. But there’s none — a gentle pinch, akin to a fleeting touch when the sharp claws first pierce through the protective layers of your breastplate. A slight discomfort upon the feeling of having a foreign object that’s found its place within the confines of your ribs. The barrier of your rib cage offers minimal resistance, yielding to the relentless advance that seeks to reach the very core of your being. The heart.

It all feels confusing.

"Kenjaku sends his regards," it whispers, the words slurred by the razor-sharp fangs that protrude from its mouth.

October 31, 2018 — 8:09 PM

"What’s the worst that can happen?"

Satoru saunters around the corner of the table, his presence punctuated by the audible slurping of juice from a small cartoon container. All while your palms rest on top of the said furniture, fingernails tapping at the surface.

The news has spread fast through the jujutsu community, faster than wildfire. Whispers of an unknown curtain cast around Shibuya an hour ago, trapping all non-sorcerers, innocent civilians, inside its insidious grasp with only one demand: Bring Satoru Gojo.

"Don’t say it like that, Satoru," you turn to face the man whose casual and dismissive demeanor only adds fuel to the worries setting inside your bones.

"They’re a bunch of curses," his hand finds its place on your hip bone while placing the empty container away, "Some special grades, yeah, but they’re weak compared to me. I’ll deal with them, save some people in the meantime, and bam," he snaps his fingers loudly, "We can go home. Get that sunset date you’ve been babbling about. Life is good," he finishes with a kiss on the crown of your head.

Life is good.

You watch the sun dip below the horizon behind the curse spirit’s back, indulging the sinister being in a halo glow.

Yeah. In the end, life was good.

2 hours and 48 minutes after Satoru Gojo’s unsealing

For a moment, he stands still. Unable to look down; frozen in time. The weight of it all seems to bear down upon his shoulders – now that Sukuna’s taken over Megumi’s body, Nanami’s and Yaga’s death, Suguru’s body being used as a vessel, the slow crumbling fall of the Jujutsu world – and now you; being gone.

Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer of the current time. Yet even his immense power proves futile as the people he loves keep dying on him…because of him.

A burden that threatens to crush him beneath its insurmountable gravity.

The air around him hangs heavy with sorrow, as if the very essence of grief has manifested itself in the atmosphere. A storm of emotions swirls within him; a combination of disbelief, anguish and a gnawing ache that gnashes at the core of his being.

He clenches his fists, fingers trembling with a mixture of sorrow and determination. In that agonizing moment, he finds the strength to finally lower his gaze, to confront the devastating truth that lies at his feet.

Everyone holds their breaths, the weight of his misery echoing in the silence as his eyes meet the lifeless visage of the one he holds dearest.

Of you.

Hand reaching out, his fingers graze the once-soft flesh of your hand; now cold and stiff. It serves as a confirmation of reality. There’s no getting you back, no way Shoko can nurture you back to health with her technique.

You’re gone.

And in that harrowing instant, the façade crumbles. The walls he built to contain his pain come crashing down, and Satoru Gojo, the epitome of strength, breaks.

Crumbling down on his knees, the vulnerability that spills forth from his broken form is raw and unrestrained. Only a handful of those closest to him stand behind to witness the symphony of torment that pierces the silence. Tears stream down his face, each drop carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken words, moments you two could’ve spent together.

One hand covering his mouth to silence the guttural sounds, the other reaches out to you, tenderly cradling your lifeless head upon his lap. He clings to the fragile hope that if he could provide just enough warmth and love, you might return to him.

Yuji looks around the room, at the people who silently observe their friend fall apart. Taking a step towards the hunched man, a soft grasp stops him mid step; Kiyotaka shakes his head, pushing his glasses back in place as Shoko looks down. For the first time, she’s unable to figure out her classmate, her childhood friend, the man whose side she’s always stayed by.

"Gojo," Yuji doesn’t allow Kiyotaka to stop him. Believing in what’s right, he stands behind his teacher’s back.

Hand laying on the tense muscle of his shoulder, he doesn’t attempt to comfort Satoru with any words — no words in this universe would bring you back anyway. Instead, his hand just rests there. Unmoving. Gentle.

"Who did it," his words cause Shoko to look back up as Satoru, stone-faced and stoic, speaks in a firm, devoid voice. Imagines of unspeakable horror flashes in his mind as he stands up, towering over the wide-eyed Yuji.

"Tell me now," his eyes search Kiyotaka’s, voice filled with undeniable authority, "I’ll kill them, kill them all."

#gojo <3

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