mintfgum

[mintfgum]

Love the fic but all I can think of is

Hairdresser Choso!

✂️ Hairdresser Choso! Who's mom would put his hair up in his iconic style when he was little and he just never changed it.

🪮 Who didn't understand when other kids would make fun of his hairstyle cus his mom did it for him and she says it looks nice so that means it's true. They must be jealous that their moms don't take the time to do their hair >:(

✂️ Hairdresser Choso who would do his brother's hair for them as a show of affection like his mom did to him. When Eso says he wants to shave his head? Choso just nods and helps him do just that. When Yuuji says he wants to dye his hair pink? Choso nods and gets out the gloves and brush. (We love a supportive older brother)

🪮 And obviously this show of affection extends to you. Way back when you were little babies and you would braid and brush each others hair and clip it up with sparkly butterfly clips 🥺.

✂️ And growing up you'd let Choso practice and experiment a ton on your own hair despite his objections. (He really doesn't want to mess up your pretty hair and make you hate him) You always convince him it's fine and he always caves to your wishes eventually.

🪮 So when his best friend (You) and his brothers pitch the idea of him doing peoples hair as a career Choso is pretty open from the get go.

✂️ It takes him awhile to figure out the social aspect of the job. Making small talk has never been his specialty but he learns quickly how to navigate it for the job.

🪮 Hairdresser Choso, who insists on doing your hair free of charge and you would be dumb if you said no to letting him run his very nice, attentive, strong yet gentle hands in your hair.

✂️ Hairdresser Choso would let you sit around the shop while you wait for his shift to end.

You lay on the worn couch reading a magazine waiting for Choso to finish up with a regular. They chat as Choso ties freshly dyed bright blue locks into two weird horned bunny ear looking things. They certainly have similar styles, you guess that's why they get along.

You realise you're staring and look down at the fancy models in the magazine again. After the customer leaves you get up and walk over to where Choso is cleaning up his work table. You slump into the spinney chair and gaze at yourself in the huge mirror.

"You think I should cut my hair or grow it out?"

Choso looks over at you and then back to the stuff he's putting away. He answers softly,

"I think it'll look nice either way."

"…That's such a cop out answer, man!"

He chuckles at that. "Maybe, but I think it's true. Although, lots of people seem to be cutting their hair shorter recently."

"Oh, so do you like girls with short or long hair then?" You ask with a menacing grin.When the man doesn't answer you poke his side "Cmoooon what's your type Choso?"

Choso grimaces and grumbles, "You sound like my boss."

You laugh at the face he's making and look around the little shop Choso works in.

"Remember when I'd let you practice on me? And you cut the front all wrong and I had to wear hats for like months"

Choso's frown only deepens with the memory but now there's also added redness to his pale cheeks.

"Oh oh! or when you accidentally waterboarded me when you were learning how to use the shower head?"

Choso cringes at the memory while you laugh.

"Stop laughing. I apologised."

You remember it well and he did apologise profusely while gently patting your face down with a towel frantically asking if you were alright, all while you were having a coughing fit.

He might be embarrassed about it but it only endeared you to him more. The memory still makes you smile and gives you a chance to tease the poor man.

"Let's just go get something to eat please."

Choso sighs, opening the shop door and motioning for you to go first. As you two walk down the street, the sound of you teasing him can still be heard from inside the little corner shop.

[mintfgum]

SAGAU PROMPT IDEA

Okay, hear me out here.

Gosh, could you imagine the creator having a twin or something? (I think I'll call it creators twin au or something like that)

Gods are not kind. Sure, they're not cruel either, but they certainly won't tamper with every little thing that they deem beneath them.

And, much like the travellers, you go from one world to the next. Moving on from world to world like they were nothing but a newer, better project.

Your twin is not as enthusiastic about your projects. They often have to clean up after your messes.

Where you are creation, they are destruction. A neverending cycle where everything will return to dust, just to create life once more.

Life and death, yin and yang.

Could you imagine what you could do with that? Just imagine going down to your creations to interact with them, only to get hunted down while in your weak mortal form, only to cry out for help to your twin when you stand trial for a crime you did not commit.

What about a dynamic where you're revered but your twin is feared? But what they don't realise is that death is a much more comforting embrace than the falsehoods of life. The life that you eagerly watch them struggle to live. This is all just entertainment for you. Your newest little project.

Feel free to use this idea! I might make a fic myself, but knowing how slow I write, idk if I'll ever finish it.

[mintfgum]

Comfort Object

Male Yandere x Reader

You see a really weird "job" post online, and the money seems too good to be true. But you aren't really in a position where you can turn it down...

You hope it doesn't get weird.

---

It was a very… concerning “job” posting.

But desperate times, and all that. 

It had shown up about a week ago, and it wasn’t hard to see why no one had taken the poster up on it as of yet. 

Bedmate Needed

● 11 pm to 6 am

● $25/hour up front

● Riverside Motel

● Room 44

● Not a sex thing

The last note seemed tacked on in a later edit, but it was still… not great.

You’d have to be either a gullible idiot or a desperate one to go for a job like this. Unfortunately, you were the latter. Very much so.

You couldn’t take another night on the street. It was getting so cold out. The promise of a warm bed was almost enough to lure you in on its own. But the money… 175 bucks just to sleep in the same bed as some internet creep?

Despite the clarification in the post, this had to be a sex thing, right?

You hadn’t gone that far, despite everything. It’s not like you hadn’t considered it… but the thought was too terrifying. Making yourself completely vulnerable to a stranger that could just decide you were less than a person and do whatever they wanted to you? You had to draw the line somewhere.

But at this point, you weren’t sure that there was a line you weren’t willing to cross anymore. 

. . .

The Motel wasn’t the seediest you’d ever seen around town but it wasn’t a place you would’ve voluntarily stayed at even two months ago. Back when you had options. 

Creepy post guy opened the door after a couple of knocks, with an awkward, pregnant pause between them. He wasn’t quite what you expected for an internet creep, but he was still a sight to see.

Really bad posture and dark, greasy-looking hair, with the darkest circles under his eyes you’d ever seen. He looked like he was about to pass out at any second, but he held it together long enough to gesture you into the room. 

“Hey…” His voice was low but he sounded nervous. And so, so tired. “You’re… You’re a little early. That’s…that’s fine. Uh, come in.”

You felt his eyes on you as you passed him, and it didn’t help your anxiousness. Not one bit. 

“Hey so, I-I really…I uh, need a shower.” He stumbled over his words with a breathy, nervous laugh. “Unless you wanna sleep next to a… fuckin’ sweaty mess all night. Do you wanna go first or…?”

You must’ve looked nervous because his eyes went wider, digging into his pocket.

“I wasn’t tryin’ to… Oh, uh…here.” He nodded, pressing the money into your hand. “Up front, just… just like I said. You just…just seemed like you maybe sorta needed one too.”

Some part of you must’ve still had an ounce of pride left because your whole body felt on fire with shame, embarrassment so consuming that you froze up. It had been a couple of days…

He just looked away, seeming like he was embarrassed himself. 

“I w-wasn’t gonna like… try to join you or peep on you or nothin’!” He tried to assure you, eyes darting in a panic and talking a bit too fast. “If I, like, go first? I won’t get mad if you change your mind and leave… I get it. I’m not gonna like… go after you or call the cops or nothin’ like that. I just…”

He stared at the floor, nails digging into his arm as he seemed like he was having trouble breathing.

“I really… I really need this.” He was so quiet, but his voice was so desperate.

You couldn’t really be considering this, could you?

He seemed more like a weird, awkward, sad guy than a real danger or some kind of pervert.

And you really did need a hot shower. 

It seemed like a safer bet to have him go first, if you were really going through with this. And it would give you a chance to look around the room for a spot to tuck away your pocket knife, just in case.

When he was in the shower, you did just that. The spot between the mattress and bed frame would be easy to grab at if things got hinky.

If things got all touchy-feely, as you suspected they would, him finding that on you or leaving it in your pocket when your clothes got tossed wherever would be really inconvenient. 

Steam rolled out of the bathroom when he stepped out, shirtless but with sweatpants and a towel around his neck. He was thin, almost alarmingly so, but you could still see muscle, enough to pose a problem should he decide to overpower you.

This was your last chance to back out, before you’d be vulnerable to this odd stranger.

But even if you left, the money wouldn’t last long, and it’s not like you had any other options. 

You were so grateful that the motel tub wasn’t disgusting, but you would’ve gotten clean regardless. Two days worth of sweat and funk was washed away and it felt so heavenly… But it was hard to relax when you were trying to stay hyper alert of any noise that could be that man trying to get in or even eavesdrop.

But…

Nothing. 

You finished your shower and brushed your teeth, doing everything you could to feel clean that a motel bathroom could provide. And there was no sign of the guy. 

But you had to go back out there eventually. You supposed you could lock yourself in here and get a full night’s sleep indoors, even if it was on the floor of a motel bathroom with your back against the door, but part of you just said “fuck it” and warily peeked around the doorway into the bedroom.

The lights in the room were dim, but warm. He was sitting on the end of the bed, one knee tucked into his chest, staring at the tv as the bright colors of a nightly talk show reflected in his eyes, but something told you he wasn’t really watching. His eyes met yours and you froze.

“It’s almost eleven…” He mumbled, his head resting awkwardly on his shoulder. His hand ghosted over the spot on the bed next to him. “… Will... will you stay?”

So many thoughts raced through your head. What would happen if you laid down beside him? You could probably deal with sex… even if it felt a bit wrong. But if he wanted to hurt you?

Your brain reminded you:

What do you really have to lose?

When you told him you would stay, sitting next to him, you could see him relax. Just a bit.

“If you still want to leave-”

But you cut him off, almost afraid he would talk you out of it after you’d made up your mind.

Avoiding his stare, you told him you had nowhere to go.

The bed was cold, it might take a bit to warm up with the two of you in it, but it was the least of your concerns at that moment. 

“So it’s...” He’d spoken up so suddenly, you hoped he didn’t see you flinch. He was staring at the ceiling, seeming just a tiny bit calmer. “... it’s fine if you just… lay there or h-hold onto me, or play on your phone or whatever, anything is fine. Just… just don’t leave ‘til mornin’. Okay?”

A worrying pause, but you told him you understood.

And that was that. He laid next to you unmoving for almost an hour before you had the nerve to move at all, shifting slowly to your side to face him.

His eyes were shut, his breathing even, but somehow you knew he was still awake. It was like he was trying to sleep but it just wasn’t coming to him. He looked so worn down, like he could just keel over any second. It definitely made him less intimidating, but you weren’t letting your guard down, no matter how much your body was screaming at you to just let go.

Despite your better judgement, you wondered if he really was being genuine about this not being a sex thing. It was a relief, sure, but it just raised more questions.

Why were you here?

. . .

You’d stopped looking at the bedside clock a while ago. It had to have been hours by then.

Your anxiety and dread somehow felt quieter under the lull of impending sleep. Despite everything, your body was at least grateful for a warm bed and hot shower, and if you didn’t sleep there now, you didn’t know when you’d be able to sleep somewhere warm any time soon. 

Every moment that ticked by, you felt your resolve slipping. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, just to let go… This whole situation was weird, but you just wanted to sleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He hoped against everything that he would just fall asleep.

Just this once, he didn’t want to have to follow through with it. But he was so damn tired. There was this ache behind his eyes that he could feel in his bones, his mind never stopped racing… 

He could feel your body heat in the bed next to him. You had either been very scared or very considerate, you’d only moved once since you laid down with him. 

He hated that he had to do this. He felt sorry for you, he really did. But it was drowned out by the buzzing in the back of his brain. The constant whispers in his ear. 

There had been so many before now, it was a miracle he hadn’t gotten caught. But this was a huge, dangerous city. Everyone in it was just a blip to anyone paying attention. 

He could feel their skin under his palms buzzing at the back of his brain. How their eyes stared into his, burning with betrayal, fear, helplessness. How he saw them fade away.

How it was the only thing that worked to let him finally sleep. The only thing that quieted the whispers, at least for a little bit. 

Some booked it after getting the money. Some just showed up and straight-up robbed him. Some tried to leave in the middle of the night, thinking he was asleep. But if they stayed and fell asleep, that was that.

He told himself that he gave them all a chance. 

If you managed to stay up all night, you’d be safe. But he really needed this… It was already day three, and he’d never made it past day five without completely losing it. Trying to fight this, it was too hard. The longer he stayed awake, trying to avoid what had to happen, the worse he felt. The louder the voice got. The deeper the ache in his bones. But the more often he did it, the easier it got. And that was worse in a different way. 

It was wrong. He wasn’t so deep in it that he couldn’t see that. The morning after, he always hated himself and what he did. 

But as the days went on, it would all creep back in. And doing it again felt less and less horrifying to him. 

You were scared. He could tell. And you had every reason to be, he told himself. But it just meant it would take you longer to fall asleep. 

He could wait all night. And if you made it the full seven hours, you weren’t what he needed. You’d be free from him, from this. Hopefully you wouldn’t come back, no matter how badly you needed the money.

He wondered what you meant by having nowhere to go.

But he tried not to wonder too much. It would make this harder. 

He could hear your breathing getting slower, your body relaxing into the bed. You wouldn’t last much longer. 

His eyes shot open when he felt you suddenly touch him, tucking your forehead into his shoulder. You weren’t quite asleep, a cuddler? He almost laughed to himself when half-asleep you looked a bit frustrated, like it wasn’t enough.

You muttered something about being cold, lazily scooting your body closer to him up the bed. He felt his breath catch when suddenly, his head was pulled to you, tucked into your chest as your arm circled him. He was suddenly the little spoon, but facing you. He could hear your heartbeat. 

He wanted to say something, wake you up or wriggle free to make what he had to do easier on you when you fell asleep. He felt a hand in his hair, playing with it and idle gentle nails on his scalp. 

It was… nice. Everything felt calm, the buzzing and horrible thoughts were still there but they were being drowned out by the warmth of your skin, the thump of your heart in his ear.

You were mumbling something. He held his breath, trying to hear.

You told him, or whoever you were dreaming about, maybe even no one at all, that he was okay. That he was safe. 

He couldn’t keep his eyes open. Something was different this time. He felt all his control slipping away, and for once, he wasn’t scared. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You woke to a sunbeam across your face, and the strange man in your arms, sound asleep. According to your phone, it was 10 am. You were grateful for the extra hours in a warm bed, but would he be mad? Did he have somewhere to be?

You couldn’t remember anything past drifting off next to him, but the two of you were tangled together, he seemed so comfortable.

Now that it was over, and your anxieties were much quieter, you really got a good look at the guy. He wasn’t… unattractive, you supposed. He was all elbows and ribs but laying against your chest made him look so soft and harmless. 

Wasn’t the worst way you’d ever made 175 bucks.

You wondered if he’d shell out the extra 100, or if that would be pushing your luck. 

Either way, it would be best to wake him up.

Gently scratching at his scalp, you told him it was getting late.

You watched as his eyes struggled to open, and for a few calm moments, he just laid against you. After a beat, he gasped and jolted up, head swiveling around the room in a panic.

“I…” He seemed really out of it, almost scared. “I actually…”

He stared at you, eyes wide. You told him it was ten in the morning, hoping everything was okay and if it wasn’t, that he wouldn’t take it out on you.

He grabbed you by the shoulders, and for a moment you were sure something bad was going to happen, but somehow, it was even worse.

He was crying.

Breaking down, sobbing hard as he just kept staring at you. Even with the odd night you’d just had, this was somehow the weirdest part. 

Despite yourself, you asked him if he was okay. He pulled himself together and you were startled again when he touched your face, his thumb gently grazing your cheek. It was tender and sweet, and it was freaking you out a little. Just a tad. 

“You… It was you…”

All you could think to ask was if you should get going, maybe trying to make it seem like you had someplace to be, or were at least trying to be considerate of his time. But it didn’t seem like he was taking the hint. 

He grabbed your hands in his, the sudden contact made you jump. He pulled them to his chest, he was too close. The way he was looking at you…

“Can we… Can we do this again? Like tonight? Please?” He was practically begging, the look in his eyes changing. That nervous, achingly tired gaze was hopeful. And so warm.

“You can have the room, if that’s what you need!” he offered, maybe somehow having picked up on your current situation. “I can pay more too. Just p-please…”

He held your palm to his cheek, staring up at you.

“I need you.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a bit of a different one from me, but i kind of liked how it turned out

that feeling when your new yandere was totally gonna off you but you were just too comfy

he's never gonna let you go. you're the only thing keepin him from killing again, ya know?

i don't have a ton of yanderes that actually kill, as odd as that seems. but this guy is one of them

he's not supposed to be a huge commentary on any particular mental health conditions, i did a bit of "research" into psychosis induced insomnia (using that term VERY loosely), but like does he hear voices because he can't sleep, or can he not sleep because he hears voices? who can say? certainly not I, the dummy who made him

i wrote this one pretty much right after my last big deadline ended, but it got reworked a bit cause it just needed some tweaks:

the yandere started out as tired but crass, kind of a dick, and when he switched after that good night's sleep it felt off. It felt more interesting if he was a bit pathetic and creepy, it felt like less of a red flag for the reader to stick around

the reader was originally going to be a straight up s*x worker that got hired by the yandere for him to kill, but it didn't really feel like my place to make that commentary on violence against s*x workers or to more or less soften it with a yandere love interest. it just didn't feel right for something so unserious

but ive been having horrible writer's block lately, so i thought i'd finally put this one out. i need to read/play some yandere stuff and get inspired. let me know if you have any recommendations y'all ✌️

[mintfgum]

tw: explicit content. toxic frat culture/attitudes. non consensual recording.

fuckboy satoru gojo.

fuckboy satoru who's in a group chat with a bunch of other shitty fuckboys who all brag about their conquests.

one of them posts a sex tape, bragging about how he took the girl's virginity and filmed it without her knowing. it catches his attention - the girl is kind of cute.

you're kind of cute. the sounds you make, the way you look and act, and damn, your body has his pants tightening. he thinks he's seen you around before.

the boys in the chat have a good laugh about what a dumbass you are. he jerks off to the video and moves on with his life.

and that's the end of it - until he bumps into you.

and actually you're... really nice. you apologize even though it's not your fault, laughing it off, picking your things up. he helps you, which is out of character for him, but he feels kind of bad for you.

you carry these tiny little mochi candies with you, and offer him one for his help.

you call him pretty. when he gets close enough to hand you your things he gets a whiff of your conditioner or body wash or something and it smells good. something sweet.

satoru wonders what scent it was. he thinks about it and he finds himself pulling up the video again, jerking off.

is it just him, or did you not cum in the video? he always knew the prick that took it was a total fucking loser.

and that could have been the end of it. that should have been the end of it, only, he seems to keep running into you again. completely by accident (at first) but later... well, it's not like he's avoiding you.

because you give him candy. you call him "pretty boy" and it doesn't sound even a little bit mocking. you smile at him, fondly, like you're happy to see him. you're just... nice.

what a dumb bitch. can't believe i actually got away with that lololol

i know dude. crazy. are you still together?

fuck that, we were never "together". she keeps texting me lol. needy af

he's nice to you when he sees you! he starts paying you back for the candies. buys you treats. brings you coffees. he learns your order. your major. your likes and dislikes. (how did that fucking prick get to touch you? what the fuck did he tell you?)

so maybe he jerks off to the video again... a few more times. he gets angrier every time.

the piece of shit in chat keeps talking about how bad you were in bed. he didn't even get you off. what a fucking loser.

he tells himself it's a matter of pride. he's good in bed, it's pathetic that the dude is bragging about his garbage performance. it's not like he cares about you.

it's not like he walks with you to classes. texts you all the time. finds out what body wash you were using and buys you ten more of them.

when he threatens the piece of shit that fucked with you, it's because he's embarrassed to be associated with him.

nothing to do with how you've confided in him that you're having doubts about the guy you 'were involved with'.

nothing to do with the look on your face when you say it, and the way it makes him feel like he's being stabbed in the chest.

nothing to do with the way that he - he can't stop jerking off to that fucking video, he can't stop looking at you, wishing - but he feels so fucking bad about it -

okay, fine, WHATEVER. maybe fuckboy satoru is catching the first crush of his entire life...

and then he sees another video of you in the group chat.

[mintfgum]

So...

You know how if you're (American) in another country, and find another American and all the sudden it's like 'Hey! Friend! Friend! That's my bestie!' That person could be from an entirely different state but all the sudden you're similar around the unfamiliar so you're buddies!

Does that happen with monsters?

Better yet-

Say you're a human, the only human being hired onto a large cargo ship that travels planet to planet through space. Most of the others you work with are so different in appearance and species you sometimes don't know even if some of them have eyes, or just use a form of echolocation.

Still! It's a nice job, you're given respect due to your status as (a deathworlder) a human, and you're settling in nicely the first few days.

There's a pack of aliens you haven't met yet though, The Aslai.

Huge creatures with a semi-humanoid appearance paired with patches of striped fur across varying parts of them. A maw that unhinges in three distinct separation points, fur tipped tails that vary with color, and slightly elongated limbs.

Of course, the Aslai are the engineers. They work in the sub-floor deck where the machinery and engines are stationed. Heavy creatures with prehensile tails that can lift just as much as their long, burly arms. Creatures made to be strong, and with vast intelligence, the Aslai are perfect for such jobs. Most times they flock to them, truthfully.

Like how winged and levitating aliens prefer jobs that involve them leaving the ship where they can move freely through open space with the right gear.

The first time you see one of the Aslai, they're walking with heavy boot steps to the mess hall. You both freeze in the hall though.

For you? It's got a human-ish face and you're experiencing one hell of a level of the uncanny valley effect in real time.

For Hesh, you look like a softer, mini version of the Aslai. Their tail flicks in excitement and with heavy steps they draw closer. A brighter fur pattern than their fellow Aslai, they're noticeable by anyone. They croon in a low gruff tone, reaching out and prodding at your arms, legs, cheeks, happily babbling in some method of communication you can't exactly understand.

It's when the other three Aslai suddenly appear with different fur patterns and facial structures, mimicking the first one that you seem to realize they're 'cooing' over you. Like if you saw a stray cat on the way home...

You're about to say anything when one of the botanist -a Threxacord by the looks of its mandibles- speaks sharply, "Don't you have somewhere to be, human??"

Technically it's right... You're not at your post, but you were told by your immediate boss you could go on lunch. You don't have a chance to explain that though, not when the second largest Aslai lifts you up and sets you on its shoulders.

"Don't talk to our human that way." The rough, crackley voice is a shock to anyone who hears it, but the pack of Aslai seem comfortable. You can only hand onto the horns atop it's head to keep in place as a different one continues, each on the same thought process.

"Drunum, shouldn't you be tending to your artificial soils?" It's more of a throaty growl than words, but the irritation is clear.

It's only when Drunum hisses as it retreat when the Aslai you're semi-surrounded by relax, looking over at you with bright, fanged grins. They seem to each be muttering variations of the same phrases.

"Oooh, little Aslai! Honorary Aslai!"

"Are you a meat eater too? I bet you're a meat eater-"

"You're warm blooded, that's great! So am I!"

"Look, you've got five fingers too! No claws, but that's okay!"

The pack easily brings you to the mess hall, deciding then and there you're one of them. Just a tiny version. Practically cousin species!

I was going somewhere with this

[mintfgum]

Idk how this is even gonna work but I just love the idea of a non-sorcerer who’s really down on their luck and is open to do any job. ANYTHING. Even the job listing about kidnapping the strongest sorcerer around.

You have no idea what sorcerers are, but you’re desperate and you take it without a second thought. By some miracle you manage to break into Gojo’s penthouse (weird how there’s no security system, right?) and clumsily declare how resistance is futile and he needs to come with you.

And satoru just….goes with it.

For a kidnapper you’re really nice. You constantly ask if the rope needs to be looser. His hands are kinda preoccupied so you have to hand feed him the delicious food you made for him. The fact that you can cook do is also a plus. you practically wait on him hand and foot.

And let’s be honest, Gojo has no vacation days so he’s taking every chance he can get.

He gets so used to being pampered that he straight up just refuses to go back.

Naturally the Gojo clan is furious that their weapon—uh asset—uh tool— really really important member of the family has been taken. they have a couple powerful sorcerers of their own so it should be a piece of cake to break in to wherever you’re keeping him and killing you. Except they can’t even get miles within your place, it’s as though Gojo is intentionally putting up a veil to protect his kidnapper.

Oh wait, that’s exactly what he’s doing.

It gets so bad that Gojo stops pretending he’s your helpless captive and teleports back to his family home to demand that they pay the ransom. 2 million? That’s way too fucking low. 20 million-no 200 million.

eventually he needs to get back to his life someday so he stops making a ruckus for everyone. When the ransom is paid, he naturally kills the people who talked you into doing this so you get all the money. Its a happy ending for exactly two people

All of this is naturally a huge blow for the gojo clan. To make matters even worse, satoru somehow convinces you to marry him after that fiasco. And nobody within the gojo clan ever breathes a word that the wife of the gojo head is actually a criminal who kidnapped him that one time. It just turns into yet another skeleton in the closet.

[mintfgum]

Hi! Can I request a sort of angsty platonic Gojo x younger sister?

A few days after Gojo is sealed, Psuedo-Geto decided it would be *fun* to allow him visions of the whereabouts of his powerful but young sister (16). So Gojo has to watch as his sister, who is facing more and more pressure from the higher-ups simple because she is a Gojo, is tearing through his classrooms, his bedroom, and his office desperately trying to figure out SOME sort of clue or way as to how to try and unseal him. Eventually she punches a hole in the wall out of frustration (out of character from her usual sweetness), and Megumi (Her best friend/familial figure because of HIS tied with Gojo) finds her and Gojo has to watch the two break down without him. Weather it ends with Gojo feeling super depressed, breaking out, vowing revenge, or anything, else, is up to you.

Thank you, but please, no worries if you dont want to write this one!

The Overwhelming Weight of Loss

FEATURING Satoru Gojo x Reader (PLATONIC)

SUMMARY Gojo has been sealed and in his absence, it's up to you, his sixteen-year-old sister, to take on the gaping hole that he's left behind.

CONTENT WARNINGS peer pressure, grief, descriptions of physical violence (punching a wall), guilt, sad stuff, dee hearts Megumi

AUTHORS NOTE thank you so so much for the request anon! I fear that I might have cooked with this one, let me know what you think! <3

In the suffocating stillness of the prison realm, Satoru Gojo floated, locked in a cold, dark silence that seemed to stretch on forever. Each second without sound, without sensation, stretched into eternity, pressing down on him like a weightless but unyielding force, tightening around his chest. It was an emptiness that gnawed at him, leaving him hollow and aching in ways he’d never known before. Alone, with no sense of the world beyond, he felt himself unraveling, piece by piece.

But then—like a spark flaring in the dark—images burst through his vision. He wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse when he saw his classroom first, every detail sharpened in painful clarity. And there, in the middle of the room, was his little sister.

Sixteen years old, with that familiar spark of determination he’d always teased her for, she stood alone, shoulders hunched under a weight too heavy for her small frame. She was tearing through the room, tossing papers, shoving books aside, fingers trembling as she ran them over every surface. Her movements were frantic, desperate, as if the answer she was looking for was hidden somewhere just out of reach.

Gojo’s chest tightened, a cold ache spreading through him as he watched her. He could almost feel her heart racing, her hands growing sore as she rifled through stack after stack of his things. She lifted a framed photo of the two of them, hands shaking as she ran a thumb over his grinning face, as though she could pull him back into her world with just a touch.

He tried to reach for her, tried to speak, to let her know he was here, that he would come back to her no matter what. But he was paralyzed, trapped in this prison, his voice swallowed by the void. All he could do was watch as her fingers lingered on the photo, her expression so tight it seemed to press against her skin, like her very bones bore the weight of her sorrow.

“Where are you?” she whispered into the empty room, her voice thin and hoarse, her tone teetering between hope and despair. Her words pierced through him, sharp and unyielding. He wanted to scream, to break free of these chains and pull her into his arms, to tell her he was fighting with everything he had. But he could do nothing but watch her shoulders slump, her jaw clenching as she forced herself to keep searching, her fingers growing raw from the frantic pace.

Room after room she went, her movements growing wilder, sloppier, as desperation overtook her. She brushed dust off old notebooks, tore through drawers, her hands now smudged and reddened. She didn’t pause to brush her hair out of her face, strands sticking to her cheeks, slick with sweat and tears. She moved with an intensity that seemed to burn her from the inside out, her breath coming in short, painful bursts, her hands shaking as if they’d forgotten how to hold still.

Finally, she reached the far wall, her eyes wild with grief and fury and the fierce need to make sense of his absence. Gojo’s heart ached, feeling like it was being torn apart in his chest, a physical pain that throbbed with every breath he couldn’t take. He knew what was coming, saw the way her body tensed, her shoulders tightening as if the frustration had built up to an unbearable pressure. She raised her fist and drove it into the wall, the sound of impact shattering the silence, the plaster crumbling under her blow.

Pain flashed across her face as her hand dropped back, knuckles raw and bleeding, but she didn’t even flinch. She only stared at the hole, her chest heaving as she struggled to contain the flood of emotion surging within her. She pressed her bruised hand to her chest, fingers curling inward as though to hold herself together, to keep herself from breaking apart entirely.

The tears she’d fought so hard to hold back finally slipped free, trailing down her cheeks and carving paths through the dust on her skin. Her lips trembled as she took a shuddering breath, and a sound escaped her—a strangled, broken sob that seemed to pull at something deep inside Gojo, a wound that tore wider with every heartbeat.

She collapsed to her knees, clutching her injured hand, shoulders quaking as she buried her face in her arm, her quiet sobs muffled but unmistakable. She was breaking, right before his eyes, and there was nothing he could do. The helplessness was a tangible weight pressing against him, like iron wrapped around his ribs, squeezing tighter with each silent second that passed.

The vision shifted, and he saw a shadow cross the doorway. Megumi. His face was unreadable, eyes dark and concerned as he watched her. For a moment, he just stood there, taking in her small, hunched form, her hand bloodied from the impact. And then, with a gentleness that Gojo hadn’t seen in years, Megumi knelt beside her, a comforting presence in the midst of her storm.

Without a word, he rested a hand on her shoulder, steadying her, grounding her, offering a lifeline in the swirling chaos. She turned to him, her face crumpling as she met his gaze, and in that moment, all the walls she had built shattered. A soft, broken sob escaped her, and she leaned into him, clutching at his shirt as though he were the last solid thing in a world that was falling apart.

Megumi wrapped his arms around her, his grip firm but gentle, his hand moving in slow circles over her back. “It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, like an anchor in a raging storm. “You don’t have to do this alone. We’re going to get him back. I promise.”

“But what if… what if we can’t?” she choked out, her voice so small, so full of fear. Her fingers twisted in his shirt, her knuckles white, as if she could hold on to hope through sheer force of will. “I don’t know if I can keep… if I can hold on without him.”

Megumi’s grip tightened, his own face lined with quiet determination. He exhaled a shaky breath, letting her words sink in, then pressed his forehead against hers. “We’ll find a way. He’s still out there. And he’s Satoru Gojo… nothing can keep him down for long.”

She nodded, swallowing her tears, clinging to his words as though they were a lifeline. The two of them huddled there, their forms blurred by her tears, their shared pain a tangible, suffocating weight in the air. Gojo watched, feeling every heartbeat as if it were a knife twisting in his chest. She was so young, too young to bear this burden. They both were. Yet they held on, clinging to each other, refusing to let the world break them.

The vision faded, and he was left in the silent darkness once more, the ache in his chest a constant reminder of everything he’d lost. But beneath the pain, there was a spark—a fierce, unrelenting determination that blazed through the cold. He would come back. He would find a way. And when he did, those who had put them through this, who had left his sister and his student to shoulder the weight of his absence, would pay dearly for their suffering.

TAGLIST

@surielstea

[mintfgum]

[16:45] . . .

you always tended to forget your umbrella. gojo had noticed that about you long ago.

you, someone who remembered everything about everyone, often forgot things about yourself. you were indecisive���laughably so, at that. every time you went to the local convenience store, it took you ages to choose something to eat or drink. it frustrated him. he was always irritated by how caring you were. there had to be some kind of ulterior motive beneath all that sweetness, right?

he recalled how you were often left stranded after class, sitting on the cold stone floor, waiting for the rain to pass. of course, he’d tease you. he didn’t care if you got soaked; he was the best, after all. he was gojo satoru, the one and only, so he didn’t have time to worry about trivial things, like whether a classmate would be left behind in the rain.

day after day, he’d walk away, taunting you as he waved goodbye. it was amusing, watching you sit there, mopey and upset. he’d laugh and point, pretending to be annoyed, even though you’d bought him cola earlier that day. it felt great to giggle as he left you behind, knowing you’d sit on the floor until the rain stopped.

it was fun, not caring.

it was fun until he started carrying an umbrella just because he felt guilty for laughing at you. he remembered that moment vividly—it made his blood boil. he’d stood there, holding out a clear umbrella above your head. you’d looked up at him, blinking innocently as you asked, “seriously? you brought me an umbrella?”

“just shut up and take it,” he had gritted his teeth.

from that day on, he made sure to always have one. that stupid, filthy, clear umbrella became a part of his routine, held over your head as you prepared to sit on the cold stone floor.

“why do you do this?” you asked one day, tilting your head as if you were both innocent and all-knowing. tsk, he thought, rolling his eyes at your obliviousness. what an absolute idiot.

“i don’t know. maybe i just like doing nice things for poor people,” he retorted.

that’s how your friendship had started. seamlessly, you slipped into the routine that included him, geto, and shoko. suddenly, you were part of their plans to go to kfc or grab ice cream. you were there when gojo wanted to shoot hoops with them, always in the background, ready to chime in whenever he teased nanami about something, quick to point out that he was being a rude git.

he hated you—or at least, that’s what he told himself. he hated how nice you were, how you always sought out ways to keep everyone happy. it made his skin prick with irritation. there was something about you that constantly ticked him off. why did you insist on buying him cola from the vending machine, knowing he’d only drink half the can before tossing the rest? why did you always go to the cashier with geto at kfc? why did you feel the need to help him with everything? couldn’t you see that you weren’t as strong as he was? or were you just dense?

“tell me something,” you’d once asked, rain drumming against the umbrella he held over your head. you walked by his side, swinging your arms like a carefree child while gojo found himself trapped in this small act of kindness. geto had already gone home, and he figured shoko was off buying cigarettes, leaving him stuck in the downpour with you. “why did you start being nice to me all of a sudden one day?”

“what do you mean?” he replied, narrowing his eyes at you. your gaze met his, an unspoken understanding passing between you. you knew he understood your question; he just didn’t want to answer it. but you pried anyway, because that’s just who you were. “i mean the way you randomly started bringing me an umbrella every day, even though you don’t need it. the way you drag me along to get fried chicken. and how you don’t say anything when i call you an asshole for teasing nanami about his hair.”

gojo sighed, caught off guard. for the first time in his life, he didn’t know how to answer a question. or maybe, deep down, he knew the answer, but the thought terrified him. he didn’t want to let those feelings out from their hidden corner of his mind.

“i don’t know. i just felt bad, i guess,” he mumbled, glancing away. he could tell you were dissatisfied with his response, but he chose silence instead. after all, he was the greatest. he couldn’t let his guard down, could he?

it irked him how intuitive you were. you read him like an open book, every single damn time. whether he was hungry, sad, or just generally irritated—which was usually the case—you always seemed to have the perfect solution. somehow, you’d have a snack handy for whenever gojo felt the gnawing hunger creep in. you’d crack a joke just when he felt like shit, and you always knew the right thing to say to get him all riled up.

like he’d said before, it was fun. until it wasn’t.

because one day, he was carrying an umbrella over your head. and the next, he was yelling at you for following geto out of the institute like a fucking sheep.

"how can you just leave me like that?" he yells, eyes wide and chest heaving. the rain pours down around him, but he doesn’t hold an umbrella for you. not anymore. he lets the rain envelop you, watching as the water trickles down to the tips of your fingers and toes, almost hoping it makes you sick. "how dare you and geto just walk away from my life as if nothing ever happened?!"

"nothing ever happened, satoru," you mumbled, "why do you think i left? it's because nothing ever happened."

"no!" he'd retorted, "you left because you're a fucking coward! you can't face your feelings, so you hide behind geto's stupid ideology that only sorcerers can exist. are you really telling me you're that disillusioned that you actually believe in him?"

"you could do it, couldn’t you? if you wanted?" you asked, your voice cracking under the weight of unspoken feelings. he paused for a moment, breath catching in his throat. geto had said the same exact thing, and it hit him like a brick.

“i don’t care about that!” he shot back, desperation lacing his tone. “come back. let me fix things-”

“there’s nothing to fix, satoru!” you yelled now, your voice piercing through the relentless downpour. the rain lashed against you, a cold, unforgiving torrent that blurred the world around you. droplets cascaded down your face, tracing a path along your skin, pooling beneath your chin before plummeting to the ground. each drop felt like a whispered goodbye, a farewell that mingled with the earth below—a reminder of all the moments lost between you. “there was nothing there anyway! what are you going to fix?”

as the rain soaked through your clothes, it clung to you like the memories that haunted both of you. it dripped from the tips of your hair, creating tiny rivers that carved a path down your neck and into the fabric of your shirt. each droplet seemed to echo your heartache, amplifying the silence between you, drowning out the possibility of what could have been.

he snaps back to reality when he realizes it's started to rain. standing on the same cold stone ground where you used to sit, he watches as the droplets hit the earth, relentless and unforgiving. each drop falls like a bitter reminder of that day—the day he said goodbye to you for the last time, a farewell shrouded in unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

“shit,” he whispers, glancing down at the umbrella in his hand.

the irony isn’t lost on him. even now, he finds himself carrying this clear, flimsy shield; a remnant of your influence in his life. it’s absurd, really. how you were now an enemy. how geto was gone and how truly alone he felt. but yet, he found himself standing here like an idiot. an absolute fool—something he used to think you were for being so kind to everyone for no reason at all.

he still hated you. now, more than ever. he knew, deep down, that you probably still forgot your umbrella, wherever you were. perhaps a part of him longed to see you sitting on this cold ground again, a familiar sight that felt so distant now. he wished he could hold out that clear piece of plastic for you once more, just as he had done countless times before. he could almost hear your silly questions echoing in his mind, the way you’d gently prod him to talk about his feelings, pushing him to confront what he often ignored. and somewhere in his memory, he could almost hear you say something sappy like, "try becoming a better person, satoru."

he scoffed at the thought. had he really become better? he liked to think so. after all, he was still the greatest. but as he stood there, soaked in the rain, doubts crept in like a chill. was he really all that great if, at his core, he was just a failed, lonely, and unhappy man?

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[mintfgum]

“english isn’t my first langua—“ say no more.

[mintfgum]

Why are you moving accounts? 😭😭

I thought it'd be funny!!!

[mintfgum]

They're everywhere

source

[mintfgum]

Hello Chat~

About Me:

Hello, my name is Mint or Rain I like to draw and write.

I'm 18 and go by he/they pronouns

Fandoms I'm in:

Several anime like JJK, Demon Slayer, Mashle, Oshi no Ko

Games like Genshin Impact, Honkai Star rail, Wuthering waves, What in "hell" is bad

Link to Masterlist (soon) Link to my old blog

[mintfgum]

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[mintfgum]

I'm migrating accounts btw.

Can't stop thinking about Satoru and Suguru with a loser!reader like.

Satoru and Suguru, who are the popular kids at your uni. Athletic, smart, and attractive, they had it all, and all of the girls (and some boys, even) were swooning over them.

Pathetic little you who looked like an eyesore standing beside them whenever the three of you walked the hallways. Nobody really knew why Satoru and Suguru chose to hang out with you, and frankly, you're not sure either.

Sure, you three have been friends since middle school. But you didn't think it'd be grounds enough for them to still keep you around, especially when they're so popular and you're just...well.

Low maintenance would be an understatement. You never really cared much for your own appearance or how you appeared to others. You just wanted to graduate, really.

Still, the two beanstalks practically drag you everywhere they can. To small little outings in cafés, or walks in the park while you shit talk one of your professors, or going to the arcade you three have been frequenting since you were pre-teens.

Even when the two start dating girls left and right, you three remained close.

You can't even count the number of times they've introduced a girlfriend to you anymore, and quite frankly, you're starting to feel bad for the poor soul that they introduce to you every other week or so.

Satoru and Suguru who keep you around because it's nice to just have someone to be emotionally intimate without any romance.

Sometimes, it's nice to just have someone who they can lounge around lazily without any romantic/sexual tension.

Having someone to warm their bed whenever they pleased was nice, but they'd usually lose interest by the third week. They didn't really connect with anyone further than they needed to. That's what you're for!

Their loser friend, who they inadvertently share their deepest, darkest secrets to. Their loser friend who rolls their eyes when they're both hungover in the morning after a party (that you refused to go to) but already has coffee and advil on the ready.

Their loser friend, who they unknowingly seek out for comfort whenever they're in a bad mood, laying their head on your shoulder while you play with their hair as they rant about literally anything and everything.

It's nice. It's purely platonic, surely. Totally.

That was until the second the second year of uni rolls around, and you start putting in more effort into how you look.

At first, they're absolutely baffled when they first see you actually dressed up. You had your hair done, your clothes are form fitting, and you're even wearing a bit of makeup.

Did their friend get abducted and get replaced by an alien? Who are you?

The changes weren't immediate, but they noticed it all the same. You got your hair cut. You got better at makeup. Your clothes changed from baggy to more form-fitting, more flattering clothes over time as you grew into your style.

Clearly, they weren't the only ones who noticed the change because suddenly it's not so odd that you're there with them when they walk the halls anymore.

You're dolling up to impress someone, clearly, but that someone isn't them. And that idea doesn't sit well in their stomachs.

It's when you start dating and have less time for them that the two eventually realise that they took the fact that they had you all to themselves for granted.

It's only then that they realise that maybe, just maybe, they liked you more than just as a childhood friend.