ghost-proofbaby

[ghost-proofbaby]

you can’t talk about vampires and their views on menstrual blood anywhere else besides here. On account of the stigma

[ghost-proofbaby]

sometimes you just gotta eat brussel sprouts and bacon out a big ass bowl with sunny d to sip on and realize you finally did what you've been claiming you'd do since like, you were 17, to realize everything is gonna be alright.

[ghost-proofbaby]

[ghost-proofbaby]

god forbid a girl posts whatever the fuck she wants on her blog

[ghost-proofbaby]

reblog if you have skilled writer friends and you're damn proud of them

[ghost-proofbaby]

Discord servers are outside of my natural habitat so I'm never sure of what to do when I'm in one

[ghost-proofbaby]

“happy father’s day,” you murmur, slipping your arms around gojo’s waist from behind.

he’s halfway through shoveling a spoonful of strawberry ice cream into his mouth and pauses mid-bite.

“huh?” he mumbles, turning slightly in your arms with a mouthful and furrowed brow. “baby, you know we don’t have kids, right? unless you’ve been hiding a baby somewhere i don’t know about?”

you roll your eyes. “i know, dumbass.”

he pouts. “so why’re you saying—”

you just point with your chin across the courtyard.

he follows your gaze.

there, lounging like a band of chaotic little gremlins, are yuuji, megumi, and nobara, bickering over popsicle flavors. maki’s sitting on the bench beside them, trying not to smile as panda pokes fun at toge for something, who just responds with a flat “salmon.”

satoru looks, then looks again.

then his eyes widen behind his sunglasses, lips parting just slightly. “oh.”

you nod. “yeah.”

he turns fully in your arms, ice cream long forgotten, the softest smile blooming across his face—bright and fond and achingly proud.

“they’re kids,” he says quietly, “they’re my little kids.”

“exactly,” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “you taught them how to fight, how to survive. how to live. they’re still here because of you.”

he blinks a few times. doesn’t say anything.

just watches as yuuji leans back and laughs so hard he nearly tips over, megumi catching him by the collar without looking. nobara shoves them both and gets dragged into the pile.

maki shakes her head. panda sighs. toge just laughs.

a tiny, watery chuckle escapes satoru’s chest.

you nudge him gently. “you’re not just their sensei. you’re their… you know. their person.”

he leans into your forehead and breathes in slow. “you’re gonna make me cry,” he says, voice cracking a little.

“good,” you smile, wiping under his glasses.

he kisses you, sweet and slow, and then pulls back to yell at the kids, voice suddenly obnoxiously loud—

“hey! none of you got me a card?! what kind of disrespect—megumi, stop pretending you don’t care, you’re my grumpy little son—”

megumi groans. nobara throws a napkin at him. yuuji waves enthusiastically and screams, “HAPPY DAD’S DAY, SENSEI!”

and gojo beams so hard it looks like the sun broke loose from the sky and settled in his chest.

tori’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ i guess i’m a little late but happy father’s day gojo!! ily pls come back home

[ghost-proofbaby]

You, after an endless amount of failed attempts at doing a soft winged eyeliner, had Gojo Satoru, your lovely boyfriend, swing in to help, but it came with consequences.

fluff , gojo satoru x f!reader

After scrolling past a stunning eyeliner look on Instagram — one that seemed to effortlessly complement your exact eye shape — inspiration had struck hard and fast. The attached reel promised an easy tutorial, the caption dripping with false hope: “Soft, subtle, effortless.”

Lies. All of it.

Now, you were cross-legged on the bedroom floor, surrounded by chaos. Your makeup bag lay open beside you, brushes poking out like weapons of war, and a pathetic little mountain of crumpled wipes had formed nearby — the casualties of your failed attempts.

With each frustrating try, your determination only sharpened. So did the flush of irritation blooming across your cheeks. Biting lightly on your tongue, you leaned into a handheld mirror and tried again, dragging the eyeliner across your lid with painstaking precision.

The goal was simple: a soft, delicate wing — subtle and pretty. But every line curved wrong, smudged, or turned out uneven.

And each time it failed, you reached for another wipe, scrubbing at your poor eyelid with the kind of exasperation that only comes from watching hope slowly die. The skin beneath your eye had already taken on a grayish tint, stained from pigment and stubborn pride.

Naturally, that was when Satoru wandered in — somewhere around attempt number five. Fresh from the shower, hair damp and sticking to his forehead in careless strands, he was wearing his utterly ridiculous bear-patterned pajamas and working through a blue raspberry lollipop like it was a serious task.

At first, he’d collapsed onto the bed with his phone, occasionally sighing — loudly — whenever you asked him to turn the volume down so you could focus. But after a while, his phone had ended up abandoned. You, apparently, were the new main event.

You could feel his eyes on you with every swipe and every muttered curse, his silent amusement radiating like heat.

Just as you leaned toward the mirror again, liner poised, another wipe already in hand, you heard the wet click of the lollipop leaving his mouth, followed by the sound of him swallowing.

“Babe—” he began, already smug, already teasing.

You didn’t even look up. “Not a word.”

Satoru blinked, now sitting sideways on the bed with his long legs stretched out and the half-sucked lollipop resting between his fingers. He watched you for a beat, then grimaced at the way you were aggressively scrubbing your already-rosy eye.

“Okay,” he said mildly — not out of understanding, but because he was clearly calculating how to make this worse for you in the most annoying way possible. Then, humming with mischief, he added, “But what if I use my actions to deeply, passionately judge you instead?”

You groaned and flopped back against the carpet, eyeliner still gripped like the weapon that had defeated you. “I told you to shut up,” you muttered. The tutorial was still playing in the background, chipper and mocking.

You were two seconds from giving up altogether. Maybe you should’ve used tape. Maybe you should’ve abandoned the idea of looking cute to begin with.

Gojo tossed the lollipop into the trash with the lazy flair of someone who had never finished anything he didn’t feel like finishing. Then, barefoot and mildly chaotic, he padded over and crouched beside you.

He poked one of the used wipes with his toe before poking your cheek with a gentle finger. To your surprise, his touch softened, brushing over the irritated skin beneath your eye with unexpected care.

“God, babe. Did Sephora wrong you?” he murmured, inspecting the damage. “This looks like a crime scene.”

His attention shifted to the eyeliner pen in your hand. He plucked it away before you could protest, holding it up like it was some kind of forensic clue. “This looks expensive. Good quality,” he said with an approving nod. “Yep. Definitely not the liner’s fault. This one’s on you.”

You let out a frustrated groan and reached for it. “No, I almost had it. It looked good on the girl in the reel! We have the same eye shape! But my hand just… doesn’t do what hers did. Like—how did she—ugh. I give up.”

“Oh, no no no.” He held the pen aloft like a sacred relic. “You don’t give up. You call in backup.”

You gave him a deeply skeptical look. “What backup?”

He tapped the liner against his chin, grinning. “Me, duh.”

“You?” you deadpanned. “You don’t even know how eyeliner works.”

“Please.” He scoffed, settling into a seated sprawl like he was preparing to compose a masterpiece. “You’re forgetting something crucial. I’m Gojo Satoru. I could do this with my eyes closed. Actually — I could probably do it with both of our eyes closed.”

[Subtle foreshadowing: “YOU BROKE IT?!”]

Your thumb hovered over your phone. “Do you want to at least watch the tutorial?”

He leaned forward for exactly one second, squinted at the video, then waved it away like it had offended his pride.

“Ah ah ah — don’t insult me.” He said waving his index finger dangerously close to your face.

“That wasn’t an insult. You need to watch it.”

“Nope. I’m going in blind. Call it instinct. Call it divine talent. Call it—”

“Delusion.” You retorted.

He clutched his chest in mock pain. “You wound me. And yet, I still choose to bless you with my services.” He tapped your chin, then poked your cheek again. “C’mere. Let me make you beautiful.”

“I’m already beautiful.”

He grinned. “Exactly. I can only enhance.”

Without any warning, he scooped you up by the hips to which you groaned, and deposited you into his lap, adjusting your legs around him like a personal project. He pulled a pillow over, propping it on his thighs, then gently tilted your head back against it — like he was about to paint the Mona Lisa.

He grabbed a fresh wipe and dabbed carefully at the smudges under your eyes, surprisingly gentle. His fingers were light, thoughtful, and his expression took on a rare kind of focus — like he actually cared about getting it right.

Then, the eyeliner.

He uncapped it with theatrical flair, holding it like a wand or a scalpel. “Alright, babe. Look up. Don’t move. I’m about to do art.”

“You’re about to poke me in the eye.”

“That’s the risk of art.”

You stayed still, holding your breath, watching as he furrowed his brow in dramatic concentration. To your shock, his hand was steady. His touch was careful. His free hand cupped your cheek as he lined your lash line slowly, tenderly — no smudges, no veering off course. You kept waiting for the wing to go wrong.

But it didn’t.

With one final flick, he leaned back and beamed. “There. Boom.” His grin could’ve lit up the room. “Gojo Satoru — eyeliner god.”

He held up the mirror.

You blinked, tilted your head, and stared.

It was… good. Not perfect — one wing was slightly longer than the other — but it was soft. Playful. Pretty. It looked intentional, wearable. And somehow, it looked like you. And it had been done by him.

“Holy shit,” you muttered. “You actually… didn’t mess it up.”

“Excuse you,” he said, puffing his chest. “I nailed it.” He gave you the dramatic TikTok arm swing for extra sass. “Bet I could do better than actual makeup artists.”

You raised a brow. “Do you even know what this eyeliner look is called?”

“I make my own titles,” he declared. “And this one’s called 'Hot Girlfriend Who’s Probably Gonna Make Out With Me After This'.”

You shoved his shoulder, laughing as the frustration finally melted out of your system. “Thanks, Toru.”

His expression softened, grin fading into something warmer. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your temple.

Then you glanced down to his hands — and froze.

“Hey! Cap it or it’ll dry out!” You said motioning to the eyeliner that he was gripping in his hand.

He raised the pen, squinting. Then blinked after further inspection, the eyeliner had cracked clean in the middle, snapped right in half, from the strength of his grip.

Your eyes widened in horror. “YOU BROKE IT?!”

He was already backing away, peeling you off his lap as he scrambled upright, laughter bubbling from his chest.

“Oops — love you!” he shouted, bolting for the door.

You launched a pillow at his retreating form. “I SWEAR TO GOD, TORU—!” but his laughter echoed down the hallway, loud and unrepentant.

But deep down, you knew — probably within the next hour — a new eyeliner would arrive. Better. Smoother. Delivered express. Along with it probably six backups, just in case.

Gojo’s on his deriod yall 🙄

[ghost-proofbaby]

seeing sleeping with sirens live tonight which if we think about it... they're the reason i wrote shire, 24 hours, maroon, etc.

[ghost-proofbaby]

sashisu wholsome cheek kiss

[ghost-proofbaby]

​when you’re mad and he send you this as an apology because Satoru knew you love cats and Megumi

Oh, I’m too soft for this 🥺

@nagseo524

[ghost-proofbaby]

nanami mhm mhm yeah yes mhm mhm

[ghost-proofbaby]

hes so breedable WHAT who said that

[ghost-proofbaby]

Hi, too scared to do this off anon, but I wanted to say I love the Jaded lyrics in your bio! I've never encountered another Spiritbox fan "in the wild"/outside of bandom spaces before lol

noooo don't be too scared!!! i swear i do not bite and love making friends by bonding over music 😭 i love love love spiritbox as well as a fuck ton of the banda over in bandom spaces ♡

[ghost-proofbaby]

hiii i was wondering if you had any plans to get back into writing the moon will sing? totally okay if not, i love rereading it

yes!! i plan to get back into writing in general very soon 😌🤍 thank you so much for reading friend!!

[ghost-proofbaby]

boyfriend reveal

[ghost-proofbaby]

Tumblr is super big on the "I didn't say it was good, I said I liked it" but really need to discover the value in its opposite of "I didn't say it was bad, I said I hated it".

You can acknowledge that something is good, great, a masterpiece even, and just straight-up not enjoy it.