gojospillowprince

[gojospillowprince]

[ Can I Be Free? ]

Pairings: Gojo Satoru x Curse!Reader

Summary: You never thought you could be free… until you met him.

| Masterlist |

It had been raining the night Gojo found you.

You were perched on a crumbling shrine wall, one of Sukuna’s fingers held delicately between your claws. Your cursed energy hummed, quiet but potent, like a restrained storm.

You didn’t look like the other curses, you looked… human. But your energy didn’t lie, his six eyes didn’t lie.

Gojo approached with his usual arrogance, blindfold catching the lightning overhead.

“Didn’t expect a glorified paperweight to have a bodyguard,” he quipped, hands in his pockets. “You guarding that finger, or is it just your shiny toy?”

You tilted your head, amused. “I was told you were dangerous. Yet you just sound... irritating”

“I can be both” he grinned, Six Eyes focused sharply, “But also charming, if you get past the sarcasm”

You didn’t attack. Not immediately. Something about his presence was different from the others who tried to exorcise you.

“You’re not afraid of me?”

“Should I be?”

Gojo tilts his head, as if thinking over your question.

“Logic says you should” he states, “Yet you don’t seem to be”

“Maybe I’ve seen scarier”

You had. Since the moment you became a curse bound to him. Nothing could scare you anymore after that.

Your hunted neon eyes stared him down. You could feel his energy even when he covered it up, it was omnipotent. Powerful. It reminded you of the monster you were cursed to serve. Yet it felt different somehow. Felt… weirdly like freedom, if you even remember how that felt like.

You tossed the finger at his feet like a coin. “Come back next time. I might change my mind by then”

You didn’t know what compelled you to say that, what compelled you to give him the one thing you were meant to protect for the rest of your cursed life. Yet you did and say it anyway.

His eyebrows rose in interest. His eyes didn’t move from yours. He didn’t reach for the finger.

“Next time?” He asks, curiously.

You don’t answer. You don’t move. If he desired to kill you, he can.

He reaches for the finger.

“It’s a date”

And then he leaves.

You take a breathe. You didn’t even know you had stopped breathing.

What had just happened?

Weeks passed. Then months.

Every time Gojo sought out cursed objects tied to Sukuna, you were there—waiting, sometimes guarding them, sometimes just watching. He never understood why you didn’t try to kill him. He never understood why he never tried to kill you either. He should’ve. He could’ve. Yet he never did.

That frustrated him. The not knowing. The clawing in his chest every time your eyes met. The disappointment when he didn’t see you.

What was wrong with him? You were a curse. A powerful one. One he must get rid of.

But he couldn’t.

Why?

He got his answers a few days later. He found you injured, cursed wounds glowing dark across your side. Runes drawn across your body like tattoos. All glowing.

You had just protected a child from a lesser curse that had gone berserk. No reason, just pure desire to help.

“You’re bleeding” he muttered, kneeling beside you.

“I’m a curse” you rasped, “We don’t bleed. We leak”

“Don’t be cute. You’re not supposed to care about people”

You met his gaze then, something raw flickering in your eyes.

“And you’re not supposed to care about curses”

He said nothing, just pressed his hand to the wound and began to heal you with his cursed energy. You hissed at the contact but didn’t pull away.

Your runes stopped glowing until they disappeared. Your wound closed.

You both stood still. Neither separating from the other, even though you both should’ve. It was weird how you both felt comfort from the touch of the being you’re supposed to despise. Yet at that moment, staring at each other’s eyes, there was no hate. Just understanding.

After that day, you stopped calling him annoying. He stopped calling you “It”.

One night you sat on a ledge high above the city, legs crossed as you watched the city beneath you with something similar to longing in your gaze. Curses weren’t supposed to feel, yet you never seemed to stop yourself from doing so. You had lived too long, seen too much. Yet it didn’t feel like you’d ever truly lived. How ironic.

You felt his presence before you saw him. You didn’t move. Didn’t acknowledge him.

Gojo joined you without a word, legs dangling over the edge like a boy playing hooky from the heavens.

"Why do you keep meeting me?" you asked, staring into the skyline, “If the others knew..."

"They'd lose their minds” he said lightly, “Yuuji would cry. Nanami would resign again”

You laughed—a clear, rare sound that didn’t belong in your cursed body. You stopped as soon a as you realized what you did. You’d heard enough about his life to find what he said funny. It wasn’t right.

He looked at you when you weren’t looking, saw how the light faded once again from your eyes. He shouldn’t care. But he did.

“I meet you because... when I’m with you, I feel like the world’s quieter”

You stilled. Then turned towards him, surprised.

“I don’t have to be the strongest. I don’t have to pretend” he said quietly.

Your chest ached with something new. Something a curse like you shouldn’t be able to feel.

“And what am I to you, Satoru?”

His reply was late in coming. Thoughtful.

“A maybe” he whispered, “A ‘what if’ I don’t know how to let go”

It would’ve been easier if he hadn’t said that. Maybe then you wouldn’t have felt the stabbing pain that comes along with hope. Maybe then you wouldn’t have ever thought you could be free.

One evening, you came to him instead—wounded again, not physically, but spiritually. Sukuna had begun to suspect. You had felt the leash tightening in your sleep. Heard his hunting venomous voice in your head. Taunting you. Reminding you of the monster you truly were. Laughing at any hope that had begun to blossom inside your putrid being.

Gojo didn’t speak as he welcomed you into his apartment. Just held your wrist and pulled you into the light.

“You’re trembling” he murmured.

“I’m not afraid”

“You are. And I think I know why”

You were silent, breathing hard. You knew he was smart, smarter than most believed. You knew he knew what was coming. You knew he could feel it.

“If you stay with him, he’ll destroy you” Gojo said, “If you come with me… I’ll protect you.”

Your eyes, softened by the sight of him, trembled. You stared longer than needed and then your hands came up to his face, unsure, reverent.

“Even if I’m a curse?”

“Even if you were the end of the world”

His voice hadn’t hesitated, hadn’t faltered. He was sincere.

Your chest ached.

The space between your lips narrowed, his breath brushing yours—but you pulled away. You had already crossed enough lines.

“I’m afraid if I kiss you… I’ll never be able to leave”

His voice was pained, “Then don’t”

But you had too. He knew you had too. Maybe that’s what hurt the most. That your life wasn’t linked to his. That your soul belonged to another. Not by choice. You had never had the right to choose.

You didn’t come again for a long time.

Gojo looked for you after each battle. After each cursed site. But you were gone. Hidden deep within Sukuna’s ranks. You stopped speaking his name.

But he dreamed of you.

Dreamed of your laughter, of the way you touched his arm like you were afraid to be real. It kept him sane when he was sealed.

And you?

You watched him from afar—watched him fight and and win and bleed and get sealed. You knew Sukuna was preparing for the final battle inside Megumi’s body. And you knew you couldn’t run anymore.

So you made a choice. The first one you had ever made in hundreds of years.

You would protect him. Not because he asked you to.

But because you loved him.

You had not right to. But you did. He had given you something you had never had, something you never thought you had the right to have. He had given you hope.



Sukuna, in Megumi’s body, saw you and knew.

“You betrayed your creator for him?” Sukuna’s rage echoed like a god’s roar.

You stood tall. Confident. Not a shred of fear. And nodded.

“I love him enough to want to be free”

Gojo tried to stop you—tried to move in front of you—but you were faster, and the cursed slash meant for him tore through you instead.

He caught you, eyes wide in disbelief, as the light started to drain from your cursed body.

“I finally chose for myself” you whispered brokenly, “Tell me I was more than just a curse”

Gojo held your face, voice cracking, “You were everything”

Your lips curved in peace. A childlike smile gracing your features that started slowly becoming more humane as you died.

“Then I’m free”

And you faded in his arms.

Gojo never spoke of you after that.

But sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he saw you waiting on a shrine wall, smiling like the storm never touched you.

And in those moments, he smiled back—because maybe love couldn’t change fate…

But it could set a soul free.

[gojospillowprince]

you’re lying in bed with nanami, skin still warm from the shower, legs tangled under the sheets. the night is quiet, city buzz faint behind thick windows, the kind of calm that only settles in when the world’s already asleep.

he’s on his side, propped up on one elbow, thumb brushing slow lines along your hip. the bedside lamp casts soft gold over his face, and for a second you think you could look at him forever and never get tired of it.

“can i ask you something?” you murmur, voice muffled against his chest.

“of course.”

you hesitate, not because it’s a hard question, but because the quiet between you feels so delicate. like it might shatter if you speak too loudly.

“when did you know you liked me?”

he’s quiet for a second. thinking, not avoiding. and then—

“i think it was the first time you fell asleep on me,” he says, voice low. “you were talking about something—i don’t remember what—but your head was on my shoulder and you just… drifted off. you trusted me enough to do that.”

you glance up at him. “that’s it?”

his mouth twitches. “you drooled on me, too. just a little. really cute.”

you groan and try to hide your face but he catches your wrist and kisses your knuckles, laughter in his breath.

“no, really,” he says, quieter now. “i liked you before that. but that night… it settled something. i knew i wanted you forever.”

you smile into his chest, tracing lazy shapes into his skin.

“what about you?” he asks. “when did you know?”

you hum, pretending to think, even though you’ve always known.

“when my shower broke.”

you feel him shift slightly to look down at you. “your shower?”

you nod. “remember? i called you. it was like, stupid late, and i barely knew you. but you came over anyway. you didn’t even ask questions, just showed up and fixed the whole thing like it was nothing.”

he blinks. “i do remember. you looked… distressed.”

“i was so close to crying,” you laugh softly. “and then you showed up and just handled it. and i was standing there like, god, i should probably offer to suck him off or something.”

his laugh is a quiet rumble under your cheek.

“i didn’t,” you add, mock stern. “i had some self-control.”

“that’s very admirable of you.”

you shift a little, looking up at him again. “i mean it, though. you could’ve just told me to call a plumber in the morning.”

he’s looking at you like he’s trying to memorize you, every blink and curve and whisper.

“it wasn’t a big deal,” he says.

“it was to me.”

he pulls you closer, his hand pressing against your back, grounding. steady.

“always calling me a sap— you’re a sap too, aren’t you, kento?” you murmur, but your voice is fond, teasing.

he kisses your forehead, lingering.

“i’m in love,” he says simply. “what else am i supposed to be?”

you don’t have an answer. just a full heart and a man who never lets you fall apart alone.

and for once, that’s more than enough.

[gojospillowprince]

“Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy” the jjk men after your kid calls them ‘dad’

Warnings- jjk men being step dads, kids.

Synopsis- you had a kid from a previous relationship, the dad is no longer in the picture. But then your kid gets attached to one of the jjk men and calls them dad.

Satoru Gojo

Suguru Geto

Nanami Kento

Toji fushiguro

Choso kamo

Ryomen sukuna

🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖tags

[gojospillowprince]

gojo x touch-avoidant!reader (fluff)

You’re not sure when the fixation began. All you knew was that it was slowly beginning to manifest as a growing itch, eventually gnawing at your mind with an unbearable intensity. Unfortunately for you, you were reserved by nature. Affection didn’t come to you naturally— in both giving and receiving. You’d shy away from your boyfriend, freezing at the briefest bit of contact.  

Sometimes, all you could do was ask the question— why was Satoru even with you in the first place?

Your boyfriend was always loud with his affection, dramatic proclamations of love spilling from his lips every day whilst remaining conscious of your boundaries. Satoru made sure to look you in the eye before initiating anything, the deep blue twinkling regardless of whether you rejected his advances or not. He gave you time. He gave you space.

But now you don't want either. 

“Doin’ okay, sweetcheeks?” Satoru’s voice brought you out of your thoughts as you watched him cook breakfast. Your head rested in your hand, legs swinging from where you sat on the countertop. He was facing you now, sunlight dancing over his fair lashes. Your boyfriend was simply stunning. 

Your throat dried up— as it usually did when you felt vulnerable. You nodded, but the lie felt wrong. You shrugged, then shook your head with a sigh. 

Satoru doesn’t push you to elaborate. He merely watched with those glinting eyes, sizzling pan set down onto the stove. The lopsided grin he usually gave you melted into one that was much softer. He didn’t want to scare his pretty girl off.

His lack of response prompted you, urged you to fill the silence. 

“I kinda… want a kiss,” you begin, clammy fingers twisting into your hoodie,”but I don’t know how to tell you that.”

“You just did, my pretty,” Satoru coos out softly, trying not to let the glee on his face show.  His closed-off girlfriend wanted some loving, and he was more than happy to provide. He leans in closer— not enough to touch you, but enough so that the warmth of his body could soothe your frazzled nerves. 

Oh, he could have just jumped in delight when he felt your warm fingers circle around his wrist. One tug of his arm turns into two, until he’s snuggled up between your parted legs. 

The kiss didn’t come right away. A tender palm rubbed at your knee, massaging the bare skin in slow circles. 

For once, you didn’t flinch. Yes, the touch is foreign. Your heart lurched in your chest and your skin prickled with an uncomfortable heat. But you looked at Satoru, eyes boring into his as you silently pleaded for more. The taller man could sense the uncertainty, the way you questioned whether you were deserving of his touch. He saw it all. 

Your insecurity was uncalled for in his eyes. Satoru swore he’d never seen a being so divine before, and he was the lucky recipient of your love— regardless of whether or not you were able to reciprocate. If anything, he was the one that felt unworthy of even an ounce of your attention. 

Satoru wanted to use his words, but he felt as if they weren’t adequate enough to convey his undying devotion to you. Instead, his safe palms slid up your arms, gently coaxing the sleeves from out of your clenched hands. To be seen is to be loved, and your boyfriend saw the way you held all your tension in your body. He saw the way your shoulders remained stiff, the tight chest… He wanted to alleviate that, so he proceeded to cup each side of your face before leaning in for a lingering peck. 

Not on your lips, though. 

One soft kiss to your cheek.

Another one landed on your furrowed brow, easing the stress you held there.

Your two eyelids.

The tip of your nose. 

Finally, the corner of your lips. 

...

You’ve never felt lighter. 

Your boyfriend could tell you didn’t want to push for a proper kiss, but he was fine with that. Perfectly fine. He would happily wait until you wanted all of him, even if it took another day, another year, or perhaps— an entire infinity. ༄.°

[gojospillowprince]

“you think i don’t care about you?” he’d growled hours ago, sharp as razors.

you hadn’t flinched. you’d just looked at him with red-rimmed eyes and whispered, “you don’t act like it.”

and that had fucking stuck. even now, hours later, as you lay beneath him, breathless and quiet, he still heard it echoing through his skull. you don’t act like it. not when he bit, not when he barked, not when he used your body like it was the only thing he could touch without breaking.

but you were still here. still letting him climb between your legs, still looking at him with wary hope like maybe this time would be different. and he was trying.

fuck, he was trying.

he cupped your face like it was fragile, like you were fragile, and not the only goddamn thing in the world that made him feel human. his thumbs brushed your cheeks, lingering under your eyes.

“still mad at me?” he asked, rough, but not cruel.

your throat moved when you swallowed. “i’m just tired.”

that made something behind his ribs ache. a thing that shouldn’t have existed. not in him. not like this.

“i don’t want you tired,” he muttered. his lips hovered by your throat. “i want you sated. quiet. shaking.”

“i want to feel loved,” you whispered.

and that shattered him in a way no cursed energy never could. he didn’t speak again. he just kissed you slowly. it felt wrong on his mouth, too soft and tender, but you sighed into it, fingers curling in his hair, and that made it right.

so he kept going. kept touching you like he meant it. like he wasn’t trying to own you, but understand you. his hands didn’t bruise this time. they cradled and traced every inch of skin like a map he hadn’t studied well enough. you were warm and too sweet.

he didn’t deserve this, but fuck, he needed it.

when he slid inside you, it wasn’t rough or frantic. it was slow, like he was giving you a chance to run.

you didn’t and pulled him closer. “i hate fighting with you.”

“i hate making you cry,” he rasped.

your nails dug into his back. “then stop doing it.”

“i’m trying.” it sounded like a lie, but this time it wasn’t.

he kissed you deeper and harder then, his mouth was the only way he knew how to speak. i’m sorry. i’m here. i’m yours.

you moaned softly, thighs wrapping around his waist. “you feel different.”

“i’m not fucking you,” he said, eyes locked on yours. “i’m loving you.”

your breath caught and he almost looked away. but then your hand touched his cheek and he stayed right there.

he kept thrusting, slow and deep, watching every tiny reaction play across your face like a prayer he hadn’t learned how to say. your lips trembled and your hips rose.

and he realized that this was the most intimate he’d ever been. not the sex. the look. the watching. the being watched.

you could see it all now; the hunger, the guilt. the desperate, bitter hope that maybe this could be enough. maybe you’d still want him, even after seeing how broken he was inside.

“i’m not good at this,” he whispered.

“i know,” you breathed.

“but i want you.”

“i know.”

“and i don’t want anyone else touching you. ever.”

you smiled softly. “that part, you’re very good at.”

he huffed and pressed his forehead against yours. you wrapped your arms around him like you finally believed it that he was trying. that he cared. and for once, he didn’t need to say anything more.

he held you and moved inside you, because he belonged there.

[gojospillowprince]

all might haters are the weakest links ever. he’s so goated

[gojospillowprince]

tori’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ finally decided to post something hehe

ex-military! nanami who left the service because there was nothing left of him in it—just orders and ache and blood that didn’t wash off, no matter how hard he scrubbed.

ex-military! nanami who moves to a quiet part of the city, keeps his head down, works construction jobs, likes using his hands for things that build rather than break.

ex-military! nanami who has a scar that stretches jagged down his the left side of his face to his torso, old shrapnel near his ribs, bullet wounds on his shoulder and thigh. he doesn’t talk about them, but they hurt when it rains.

ex-military! nanami who visits the same tiny cafe every morning at 7:00 a.m. sharp. black coffee. no sugar. no cream. he always tips well. says little. the staff calls him “sir” until you show up.

ex-military! nanami who meets you because you’re new at the counter, bright smile, humming to yourself, and you mess up his order—give him a caramel macchiato by accident and call him “darling” out of habit.

ex-military! nanami who stares at the drink, stares at you, and doesn’t correct you. not about the name, not about the coffee. he drinks it anyway. comes back the next day. you do it again. he doesn’t stop you.

ex-military! nanami who is fascinated by how you talk with your hands, by how you remember customers’ pets’ names, by how you laugh even when your feet hurt and the espresso machine is spitting steam like a monster.

ex-military! nanami who starts lingering a little longer, taking his coffee at the bar, watching you scribble dumb little drawings on to-go cups for kids. you offer to draw him too. he says no. you do it anyway. it’s a stick figure with glasses and a tie. he keeps the cup.

ex-military! nanami who doesn’t know what to do when you ask what he used to do. he says “contract work” and changes the subject. you don’t press. you just say, “sounds intense,” and give him a muffin on the house.

ex-military! nanami who watches you dance behind the counter to music you think no one hears. your joy is so loud it drowns out the ghosts in his head.

ex-military! nanami who walks you home one night when your shift ends late. no questions. just a steady presence beside you. you chatter the whole way and he listens like it’s the only thing he’s good at anymore.

ex-military! nanami who doesn’t flinch when you touch his hand. doesn’t flinch when you see his scars. doesn’t speak when you kiss them—just closes his eyes like you’re rewiring something inside him that’s been broken too long.

ex-military! nanami who can’t believe you love him. don’t you see what i’ve done? his body says. don’t you see what i carry?

and you smile like sunrise and say, “i see you.”

ex-military! nanami who starts sleeping through the night again. because of you. because of the way you breathe beside him. because of the way you pull him into the light like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

ex-military! nanami who loves you like a silent vow. fiercely. quietly. fully. not because you saved him, but because you reminded him he was worth saving.

[gojospillowprince]

gojo satoru was spoiled, sure. but he wasn’t used to being cared for.

he had people who answered to him. people who revered him, feared him, respected him. his clan, his school, his students. everything he wanted, he could have. everything he needed, someone got for him.

but then there was you.

you, who didn’t flinch when he joked too loudly or smiled too wide. you, who didn’t tiptoe around his legacy like it was made of glass. you, who leaned into him instead of away, who called him “satoru” like he was just a man, not the strongest.

and when you touched him, it wasn’t reverent or worshipful or like you owed him anything. it was simple. kind. natural.

like reaching to fix his collar on a windy morning.

like putting his favorite tea on the stove before he even asked.

like dragging him to bed when he passed out on the couch, glasses skewed, mouth slightly open.

“come on,” you’d mutter, soft but firm, “sleep properly, sato.”

and he’d blink up at you, half-lidded and drowsy, and feel something sweet settle in his chest.

you didn’t do these things because he asked. you didn’t do them because he was gojo satoru. you just… cared.

it rattled something in him.

once, you made him lunch and packed it for him in a neat little box. he opened it during a break at jujutsu tech, laughing at a text from you about something dumb his students did.

inside, there was his favorite food. a little sticky note with a doodle. a stupid pun you’d written.

don’t fight anyone on an empty stomach!!

he sat there, chopsticks halfway to his mouth, and just stared.

he thought about how no one had ever done that before. not like this. not with that silly, mindless affection. not because they wanted to make his day better.

and that night, when he came home, he found you on the couch in your pajamas, phone in hand, hair messy from the way you curled up against the cushions.

he walked over without saying a word, dropped to his knees in front of you, and laid his head in your lap.

you blinked down at him. “…long day?”

he nodded, face pressed against your stomach, arms winding around your waist.

“thank you,” he mumbled.

you snorted. “for what?”

he didn’t answer. just closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of your laundry detergent, your skin, your home.

he’d always had everything he could ask for. but until you, he didn’t know what it meant to be loved for nothing. for free.

and god, did it make him want to give you the world.

tori’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ i love satoru 😔

[gojospillowprince]

idk if i’ve said this before but choso is so loud when he gets pleasured bcs he didn’t “grow up” in a world that taught him he should be ashamed or embarrassed by his sounds… so he’s like… LOUD loud… groaning, moaning, whimpering, blabbering noises and cries of “oh god, oh god” because it feels so good……….

[gojospillowprince]

──on the move

a/n. in honor of father's day, i wrote a short drabble for our favorite daddy fictional husband. here's some good 'ol dadjo fluff 🩵 this was a request, but it's also inspired by a scene from the romcom life as we know it.

cw. your daughter's first steps. humor. domestic fluff. dad! satoru. husband! satoru. also, satoru is just too stinkin' cute (isn't he always though?!).

Neither you nor Satoru were prepared for the day your daughter decided to walk.

She’d been going through another sleep regression—clingy, overtired, and endlessly fussy. The last few nights had been brutal for you both; nonstop crying, sleepless nights—hell, you barely remembered the last time you’d eaten something warm or sat down for more than five minutes without a tiny hand tugging at your shirt.

So today, when she finally settles, babbling to herself instead of wailing, Satoru doesn’t hesitate.

“You go clean up,” he says, already hoisting her up into his arms. “I got this.”

And you don’t argue. Because a hot shower and ten minutes to breathe feels like the most luxurious gift in the world.

Downstairs, Satoru sits leisurely, sinking onto the living room floor, one of your daughter’s stuffed toys shoved behind his back like a makeshift pillow. She sits a few feet in front of him, chewing thoughtfully on a rubber block like she’s solving some ancient puzzle.

As she babbles cheerfully, he nods along, blue eyes soft beneath the fall of snowy hair. One hand props up his chin as he listens intently, like he’s getting a full debriefing from a tiny general.

“I know, right?” he murmurs. “They really said no dessert before dinner. Criminal, honestly.”

An insistent string of nonsense syllables spills from her tiny lips, animated and loud, flapping one hand as to make a point.

“Exactly,” he hums, nodding solemnly. “It’s injustice. You and me—we should unionize.”

Then, without warning, she shifts—pushing herself up with both hands, wobbling slightly as she reaches for the coffee table. One tiny palm finds the edge. Then, slowly… she lets go.

Satoru blinks.

Standing. She’s standing. No hands. No support. Just two steady little feet on the rug.

All by herself.

“…no way,” he breathes, straightening instinctively. “Hey, uh—princess?” clearing his throat, his voice catches slightly. “Uhh… whatcha doin’, huh?”

And then she moves—one step. Wobbly. Uncertain.

Satoru's mouth falls open.

“No, no, no—wait—shit—uhhh… babe?!” his voice pitches as he springs to his feet, torn between staying and bolting for the stairs. “Hold on sweetheart—wait for mommy, wait—!”

Twisting towards the ascending hall, his voice booms.

“Babe! She’s walking!!”

Upstairs, the shower pounds steadily as you scrub shampoo from your hair. A voice echoes up the stairway. With a pause, you tilt your head slightly.

…is Satoru calling you?

“Huh?” you shout back, reaching for the knobs. “What was that ’toru?”

His voice echoes again—louder this time, unmistakable.

“SHE’S WALKING!”

“What?!” heart lurching, you move, fumbling out of the shower, slipping slightly on the mat as you grab for the nearest towel and yank it around your body. “Shit—okay—hang on—!”

But downstairs, equal chaos unfolds.

Your daughter takes another step, and Satoru's still at the bottom of the stairs, caught somewhere between panic and awe. He doesn’t want to move—can’t risk missing it. Can’t let you miss it.

“Okay—just—freeze,” he says, crouching slightly in front of her. “Hold it right there, little lady. Stay. Don’t advance. Mommy’s coming.”

But babbling back in defiance, her little eyes brighten with determination as she takes another wobbly step forward.

“Shit—fuck. Honey, I need you to hurry!” he shouts toward the stairs, voice cracking.

“Coming! I’m coming!” you call back breathlessly, hopping down the hall with one towel clutched around your chest and another half-heartedly blotting your dripping hair. “Just—stall her! I’ll be right there!”’

“Stall her?!” he echoes, eyes wide as she continues toward him, arms extended, smile wide—like he’s the finish line and she’s already won. “How the hell do I stall a baby?!”

Another leg plants itself on the rug, and Satoru scans the room in panic. No bottle. No snacks. No plan. No goddamn time.

“Okay—um, hey—look at me,” he says, dropping to his knees in her path. “Let’s do… let’s do clapping, yeah? You love clapping!”

And there he is, clapping with exaggerated enthusiasm, a desperate smile plastered on his face. But she doesn’t slow down. If anything, she picks up speed—giggling now, like this is all a game.

“Shit. Nonono. You are not following protocol…” he mutters, backing up a step. She’s almost at him. “Please princess… please… wait for mommy.”

He’s at a loss, and so, with nothing else to do, he reaches out—gentle, barely a touch—tapping her belly with two fingertips. But it’s just enough, because with little balance, she blinks—wobbling, plopping her butt onto the floor with a soft thud.

There’s a pause.

Then, in a matter of seconds, her face crumples, lip trembling as a tiny, heartbroken whine spills out of her.

Satoru's eyes widen in horror. “Aw, no—no, no, hey, it was just a loving little stall,” he says quickly, hands out. “A nudge. A tactical nudge. Fuck, don’t cry—”

And you’re bursting into the room just as the first real wail escapes her lips.

“What happened?!” you gasp, chest heaving, towel clinging to your damp skin as you rush over.

Looking up, Satoru's face is wide-eyed, painted with guilt.

“You… you said stall her,” he says helplessly. “So I… I gave her a little push.”

You blink. First at him. Then at her. Then back at him.

She’s hiccupping through a sob, hands balled up against her chest like she’s been personally wronged. Yet somehow, his face is more pitiful than hers.

“She was walking,” he adds weakly, looking down. “I… didn’t want you to miss it.”

Exhaling slowly, the panic bleeds out of you now, replaced by something warm and humorous—the edge of a smile tugging at your lips.

“Oh, ‘toru…”

He peeks up, sheepish. “I panicked.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, stepping closer, “I gathered.”

And sinking to your knees, you gather her into your arms. The second she’s pressed against you, the sobs dissolve into sniffles, cheek nuzzling into your collarbone like nothing ever happened.

“There we go,” you whisper, brushing your hand over her hair. “See? All better. She forgives you.”

“…you sure?” he looks doubtful. “Because she looked at me like I betrayed her entire damn bloodline.”

“Oh, shush.” Huffing a quiet laugh, you roll your eyes playfully, gently lowering her onto the rug in a seating position—pacified, for now.

Stepping closer, Satoru's gaze flicks between you and her.

“Five steps,” he says quietly, sliding his arms around your waist. “She took five real steps.”

“That’s incredible,” you whisper, arms looping around his neck. A slow smirk stretches across your lips. “Next time maybe just… record it, yeah?”

“Tch…” he huffs. “Right…”

And leaning in, his smile meets yours halfway—lips touching where laughter wants to begin. You kiss him, eyes fluttering, a hum rumbling through him.

But then—

pat-pat-pat.

Freezing, you pull away from that unmistakable sound. And turning, you’re left with the sight of your daughter tearing off down the hall with a delighted squeal, her bare feet smacking against the hardwood like she’s been walking her whole damn life.

“Oh.” Satoru's already straightening. “Oh shit.”

“Ohmygod…” you breathe in awe. “’toru… she’s walking!!”

“No,” he says grimly. “She’s running.”

And just like that—it begins.

Yeah. You’re never going to sit down again.

[gojospillowprince]

“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

[gojospillowprince]

You swear Satoru pretends he’s not as strong when he’s around you. The man will let you shove him and then immediately collapse to the floor, whining that you’re just sooo mean to little ol’ him :(

So, of course, when he’s about to leave for the day, expecting his usual morning kiss, and you’re not exactly giving him what he wants (just those quick, annoying little pecks), he starts getting that look.

That stupid grin.

Big and dopey, blue eyes crinkling as his snowy lashes flutter, leaning in closer each time you try to pull away, chasing your mouth like a fool in love. “Nooo, come back. You know what I want.”

And obviously, you’ve had enough.

You grab him by the front of his jacket, spin him, and pin him up against the wall. One hand cupping his pec, because if you’re gonna do this, you’re gonna do it right, and the other curling around the sharp line of his jaw as you lean in and kiss him.

Sloppy. Messy. Tongue sliding into his mouth, breath warm and close, and you swear you hear a moan slip from the back of his throat.

You murmur against his lips, “This is where you're weak, right?”

And it’s like you hit a pressure point. His legs buckle slightly, spine curving like you knocked the air out of him. If you weren’t holding him up, he’d probably be sliding straight down the wall. His fingers twitch like he wants to grab you, anchor himself, but all he can do is giggle breathlessly against your mouth, brain clearly buffering.

When you finally pull back, he’s flushed. Blinking like you just smacked him. The tips of his ears are pink, his lashes fluttering as he stammers, “What the hell was that, baby, no, nuh uh, you come back here and finish what you started.”

And now he’s whining at the door like the poor, lovesick puppy he is, mumbling about how he’s gonna be thinking about that kiss all day.

You change his contact to 'Masochistic freak' after he finally leaves to go on some random mission.

[gojospillowprince]

wait… what about nanami fucking ino’s ass while ino fucks you as a way for nanami to “teach him” how to fuck you properly but it just ends with ino being so overstimulated between the two of you while nanami pounds his prostate and forces his cock in and out of you because of how hard nanami is pounding him — it would almost feel like nanami was fucking you himself

ino would be borderline crying into your neck about how warm it feels and how he’s never felt so full and so much before ^.^

(don’t ask for a full fic pls lol i was just sharing my thots ^3^)

[gojospillowprince]

reader riding gojo while gojo throats geto's cock roughly BUT!!!! gojo is wearing a cock ring so he can't cum even when he's being tagged teamed like a slut and having his body absolutely ravished and used just how he likes

his cock would be soooo sore and his balls soooo full and heavy just aching to cum esp when u start squeezing around him while he's inside as geto stuffs his dick balls deep down his throat and leaves jt there to choke him... the poor thing would be crying so hard of pleasure wanting to cum but the cock ring won't let him :/

[gojospillowprince]

I can't get this out of my mind, but- what about pegging Gojo? 🏃🏻‍♀️

listen— oh my GOD JANSJDS LISTEN — i got carried away 🧍🏻‍♀️

i think gojō would act all high and mighty and try to seem so cool when you bring it up like “yeah course we can try pegging. we can try anything.” but mf is so scared oh my god. cause?? he’s about to take it up his ass??? granted he can’t really be held accountable for reacting badly considering how many times he’s asked you to do anal. but still! 

anyways. he’ll be pretty compliant with everything, but he’ll prefer if he’s not facing you, because he is kind of freaking out. of course, a part of him is curious, and always has been, and that’s the part that’s letting him be so okay with the fact that you’re stretching him with two of your fingers. it also— feels really good. when it’s just your fingers, he’ll still have it in him to tease, shaking his ass at you, exaggerating his moans, asking you if he looks pretty for you like this. that is until you twist your fingers and press against that spot inside of him, and he literally melts. just shivers and melts into the mattress like why is he just discovering this now??? 

when you do fuck him, he’s already so far gone. no longer teasing, because he really doesn’t have it in him at all. he takes it so well too, just absolutely gives in. he’ll be arching his back, his moans bouncing and hiccuping as he presses his ass against you. he’ll clutch at the sheets and cry and whine against the sheets, coating it with his spit and drool as his eyes cross and roll back. he’ll whimper and cry out, “faster! harder! please, please, please fuck me. fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” and he looks just as pretty as he sounds. 

i don’t doubt that someone like gojō would be determined to cum untouched, so he’ll make it his life mission. to boost your ego? to boost his own? both ! when he cums, he’ll twist his head and rest his cheek against the mattress, and god the way he looks !!! so pretty, with his cheeks all rosy and lips so plump and swollen and his eyes!! so dewy and glassy and eyelashes wet, and his hair, slightly matted and pressing against his forehead and a little bit messy and disarrayed as you fuck into him. and then his mouth falls open, and he moans, so deeply, and his body tightens, hands fisting the sheets harder before he spills, his cock bobbing and twitching as he cums all over his stomach and the mattress beneath him, all while he cries and screams for you, “so good, so good, so good, fucked me so good, ah, ah, feel so full.” 

damn anyways i need to— idk imma scream 

[gojospillowprince]

reblog if you support:

• pre- or non-hrt trans people

• genderfluid/non-binary people who want hrt

• genderfluid/non-binary people who don't want hrt

• pre- or non-op trans people

• tall transfems

• short transmascs

• fat/plus size trans people

• fem trans men

• masc trans women

• transmascs who don't/can't/won't bind

• transfems who don't/can't/won't tuck

• transfems with wide shoulders

• transmascs with wide hips

• genderfluid/non-binary people with facial hair or tits

• genderfluid people whose presentation is static but their gender is not

• non-binary people whose desired presentation is how society says their agab should present

• transmascs who bind but still have a visible chest

• non- conventionally-attractive trans people

• non-conforming trans people

• non-"passing" trans people

• non-stereotypical trans people

We don't all fit into cisnormative society's bullshit stereotypes!

I'm trying to prove a point to some transphobic relatives. Back me up tumblr.

[gojospillowprince]

If you are trans I need you to stay alive.

Stay alive for every other trans person fighting, stay alive for every trans person who is no longer here, and most importantly stay alive for yourself.

They don’t get to erase us! They don’t get to take away our rights, and treat us as less than human. Don’t let them erase us, and don’t let them make you a statistic. Don’t let them win.

Stay alive

If you won’t do it for yourself, then do it for others. Do it out of spite.