࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 12:34 A.M 」

sheltered reader who throughout her whole life hears about how she should only bear sons in her womb for her future husband because girls are useless and unimportant in jujutsu society but when she gets an arranged marriage to satoru and finally meets the strongest sorcerer who she assumed was just like the men of her clan, he looks at her with dreamy eyes, fist resting under his chin, and instead goes on about how much he wants his first baby to be a girl 🥹

Just thought that once Satoru has a mini me, he'll have a new bestfriend. (After Suguru 😭)

I wonder how he'd react when toddler Gojo suddenly tells him "papa you're my bestfriend!" or someone asks and toddler Gojo says "papa is my best friend!".

on days when baby gojo isn’t pouty and feeling amicable towards his papa, he’ll introduce him as his best friend to anyone who comes by🥹

“papa!” your baby son stands wobbly on his feet, facing nanami while his small index finger pointing at satoru. “he— my best friend!”

“oh, is he?” nanami pats the kid in the head softly, almost smiling because this little boy is so precious in his pajama onesie… until he sees satoru—

—whose eyes are literally glistening with tears as he looks at his minion.

Omg chuu imagine baby gojo sees a childhood picture of dad gojo and when reader asks who that might be, baby is just like “me!” because how similar they look🤣

“look, aren’t i handsome here?”

gojo proudly points out at a picture of him during his baby days—seemingly calm with the very same white hair and cerulean eyes as his son on his lap.

your son, who can only manage short sentences at almost 2 years old, is immediately fixated on the picture.

“now, say yes~” gojo tickles his baby that he laughs. “aren’t your papa so good-looking? this is why you look good too!”

“yaaay!” his son giggles happily, before suddenly jabs at the picture with wide smile: “me!”

“huh?”

“meee!” he looks at gojo with so much happiness as he points at his picture. “me! me! me!”

somehow, the sight of his baby identifying his childhood picture as himself makes gojo warm all of a sudden. he’s been with him for almost two years already, but somehow right that moment, it dawns on him again that this little boy in his arms is really his to protect.

“yeah. it’s you, that works too, kiddo,” he pats him on the head, a fond smile on his face.

Okay.

As much as I love feral Satan, who lets his instincts run wild and growls, bites and everything else… his soft side is so fuckin’ cute.

The Satan that stares at you in confusion as you tend to a small cut on his hand he’d received on one of his rampages, unbothered by the mess around the two of you and concerned solely with him. How he doesn’t quite know why his chest feels so warm and tight as he looks at your gentle, concerned expression.

Satan, who doesn’t understand why he feels so weightless with you, why his heart flutters and why he wants to hold you so gently, as if cradling something precious.

Satan, whose anger fades just from your presence alone, overtaken with feelings he’s never experienced, that baffle him entirely but he can’t get enough.

Satan, who desperately throws himself into research just to understand you a little more, to put a name on how he feels about you— who’s just as afraid of his own feelings as he is elated by them.

Satan, who worries you’ll be frightened of him if his temper rises, but you never are, even when he tells you that you should be.

Satan, who lays beside you, watching your sleeping face and utterly baffled that you trust him so completely to allow him to see you in such a vulnerable state… who knows deep down he’ll protect you forever.

Satan, who fumbles each time he tries to explain any of this to you, whose face becomes adorably reddened with each failed attempt.

Satan, who realizes that you’ve accepted him entirely, his every fault, his everything, before he had even come close to accepting himself. Who loves you more than he could ever put to words, or that he could ever really comprehend.

Just him. You know? Ahh, just helping him come to terms with everything he doesn’t know, to grow and understand. Helping him, in the end, to love.

Sugusausage and his Satoring Cheese boyfriend

✎ throughout heaven and earth

- gojo satoru x reader

a sudden mission. a curse beyond your grade. all hell breaks loose when gojo realizes that there are hidden machinations behind the incident that befalls you

genre: feral!gojo, injured!reader, hurt/comfort, exponential fluff !

note: we need a gojo who will go ballistic against the higher-ups for dragging you in their mess :) refer to this for the reader's CT, and this loosely takes place after the events in heaven's fury, and the epilogue is based on this very brilliant idea :))

a part of gojo's love entries

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

Something isn’t right.

You should’ve known it was strange when they assigned you with a sudden mission with little to no briefing. You should’ve gone through with your gut feeling and informed Satoru about it.

Because if you did... now you wouldn’t be running for your life like this, frantically dodging the hacks and slashes of this chainsaw-like cursed spirit that was evidently not a Grade 2 as what you were told.

“Ah!” you yelped as the sharp ends of its body struck your shoulder, leaving you bleeding openly. This was no small wound—it was deep enough to make you stagger.

You had to do something about this because merely avoiding wouldn’t save your life. You had to come back in one piece. You have to— for your baby and Satoru.

What if I can’t? The sheer thought made you tremble. Your baby boy was still so little and he needed you more than anyone, and Satoru...

God, you couldn’t bear to leave him alone. Not again. He couldn't handle losing someone again, not after all he had already lost.

You gripped your whip—your cursed weapon—tightly amidst your bleeding hand. You had barely enough cursed energy for a domain expansion that guaranteed a sure-hit effect. You have one shot. This was all or nothing.

But you weren’t sure if it would work, because you were on the verge of exhaustion, and this was a special grade curse. Your domain expansion was definitely not as refined as the Satoru’s, and this monster was an enemy of his class.

“Satoru...” your voice came out in a sob. You were terribly scared, and honestly you were entitled to. You weren’t even sure you would survive this at all, and all you could think now was your husband’s silly grin and how much you loved him.

And right afterwards, you saw the cursed spirit lunging at you, and with everything left that you had, you screamed—

“Domain Expansion: Transcendent Veil!”

“Gojo-sensei, p-please come back... Nee-san is...!”

Satoru was in Kyoto when he received that call from Megumi— and that moment shattered his world as he knew it.

“Megumi, what is it?”

“She w-was sent on a mission... but then it's a special grade— a-and... she... she e-exorcised it b-but—!”

He teleported without second thought to Tokyo. His mind was blank, the only sound he could hear was his own violent heartbeats, and his fists were clenched so tightly.

“The cursed spirit got her too… It made a cut on her neck.”

His most precious wife... the one person he must protect at all cost, was now possibly—

“Megumi.” He saw him sitting on the hallway of the headquarters’ hospital the with his son on his lap—you had asked him to look after your baby—and the boy looked up to him.

“Gojo-sensei...” Megumi appeared shaken, and seeing that, Satoru immediately took his child from his hands, pulling the little kid into his embrace.

“Go back home, I’ll stay here.”

In all his life, Megumi had never seen Gojo Satoru as calm as he was now. He looked fearsome, as if he was in the battlefield.

“Ichiji.” Satoru turned to the other man rigidly standing next to Megumi, causing him to stiffen up even more. He didn’t say anything further as he pat his little son’s back, and yet Ichiji knew all the same what he wanted from him.

“It’s from… the higher ups, Gojo-san.” Ichiji gulped as he said it. “Y/N-san was suddenly called in yesterday night, and she was told it was an urgent mission.”

“Who called her?”

“It was…”

When Ichiji told him the name, suddenly Satoru barked a snort, and his lips curled into a manic grin. It was a menacing sight for both Ichiji and Megumi, as he looked almost unhinged if not for his secure grip on his son.

But contrary to what they were thinking, what filled Satoru at that moment was pure, unadulterated fury. A righteous sense of being crossed—because, how fucking dare they?

Those higher ups first pressed him to execute Yuji, and when he paid them no mind… now they staged this atrocity against you, most definitely to serve as a warning to him.

“Ichiji, tell them that I’ll pay a visit tomorrow. And drive Megumi home tonight.”

He would make his point loud and clear. He would show them how wrong it was to ever test him. But…

The plan barely satisfied him. They hurt you. His heart finally lurched as he processed the fact… when he heard his baby’s soft whimper against his shoulder.

. . .

You sustained serious injuries, but finally, you were out of critical condition.

When Satoru was allowed to see you, you were still connected to many monitors and breathing machine. He brought your baby too inside, and upon clearly seeing both of them, suddenly your eyes welled up with tears.

“Hey…” his hand gripped yours reassuringly. You sniffled when the strain of your broken ribs made you almost cry out in pain, and Satoru immediately calmed you down.

“Sweets— hey, don’t cry, yeah? You did good.” He pressed a soft kiss on the back of your hand. “You did freaking good. You’re okay now. You’re going to recover, yeah?”

You gave him a tearful little nod, feeling so grateful that you could see him again. And unbeknownst to you, seeing you like this broke his heart too.

“Mwa...” your baby, cradled in your husband’s arms, suddenly stretched his tiny hands towards you, and Satoru handed him over for you to hold.

With the little strength you possessed, you reached out to stroke his soft cheeks. Your son... the thought of how close you came to death brought another tear rolling down your cheek.

All sort of thoughts went through Satoru’s head at the sight. His wife, the mother of his son, who is proud of him for everything he does—

—and their sorry asses dared to hurt you.

Suddenly all he saw was red.

And he swore he would make it right to you. Soon.

“Ah, Satoru-kun… to what I owe the pleasure?”

“…I’ve heard that it was you who assigned that special grade mission to my wife, correct?”

“Oh, that. First of all, I must apologize for my... oversight. We were misinformed... Our scouts made a mistake while filling the files.”

Satoru was trying not to lose his composure first thing after coming here. Really.

But the knowing tone of the elderly Jujutsu Commander only fueled his rage, growing stronger the longer he stood behind this stupid paper divider.

“So it’s a mistake, huh?” he repeated in a satire manner. “Then do you know that my wife has just gotten out of her maternity leave this week?”

The man behind the divider chuckled quietly. “Satoru-kun… I know the sentiment. Of course you’ll be worried, and it did end in a rather… unfortunate incident. However, jujutsu sorcerers are bound to their duty, and your wife cannot rely too heavily on her status as a member of the Gojo clan to be excluded from—”

Fuck it. He had no patience any longer.

“Seems like I need to be a lot rougher, after all.”

Suddenly the room crackled with electricity and the Jujutsu Commander gasped at the sense of foreboding he felt. “Gojo, you can’t—!”

“Heh, but I can.” He let out the most satisfied laugh before opening his palm and chanting in a lower voice: “Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue.”

In a matter of seconds, the audience chamber of jujutsu headquarters turned into a pile of destruction. The commander barely made it out the deadly vacuum vortex with a shriek.

“Ah! N-no! Get a-away from me!” Satoru stared down at him coldly through his unobstructed heavenly eyes, as he pitifully tried to crawl away. He took one step towards him, stomped on his hand ruthlessly—causing the man to scream, before he got down to his level.

“N-no! Please, s-spare me...!”

“This is my first and last warning to you.” It was beyond terrifying, to see those six eyes in this close proximity. But even more dreadful was the tight chokehold on his throat—

“If you ever try to pull this idiotic stunt again on my wife, know that I can and I will snap your neck.” Satoru’s face split into a sinister grin as he tapped the man’s nape, before he crushed the bone on his hand with a crack and made him howl. “Remember that, yeah?”

. . . that day, none in jujutsu headquarters dared to spread any word about Gojo Satoru’s outrageous conduct, even when it was an attack against their own highest ranking leader.

“Satoru, you don’t have to, really—”

“Nuh, uh! I’ve promised you I’ll nurse you back to health!”

Unaware of anything and everything, you thought that your loving husband was a silly jester trying to make you feel better. On the fifth day of your stay in hospital, you were well enough to eat solid food, and Satoru insisted on spoon feeding you the fruits he cut himself.

“Good girl,” he praised with a wholly playful smile as you chewed on the watermelon. You looked at him with a mock frown, pursing your lips.

“You’re making me look like a kid.”

“You are, in fact, my second kid, so I have all rights to baby you.”

You let out a giggle, but then suddenly your throat felt like it was closing in and you coughed. Instinctively, you reached for your neck— your fingers tracing the scar there.

You still could remember the sense of paralyzing fear you felt as soon as your neck was cut. The heavy bleeding that followed, the way the world blacking out around you…

“Sweets…?” Satoru put down the plate and got a grip on your trembling figure. He gently pushed your chin up to meet his eyes. “Hey, look at me. Look at me, hmm?”

Your frantic eyes locked onto his, and your rapid breathing steadied. Your clammy hand reached out to touch his face... before you lunged forward, throwing your arms around him.

“Sweetheart…” Satoru hugged you back in return, sighing against the nape on your neck, as he planted a soft kiss there.

You tried your best not to cry but it was hard not to while remembering everything.

“I-I was so scared…”

“Mhm.”

“I-I kept thinking… w-what if I c-can’t see you… or baby again…? I… I s-still want to do a lot of… things… w-with you…”

The way you shook in his arms like a fragile leaf made something inside him burn. He was supposed to provide you with security, give you a life far removed from curses—

Having left that warning against the higher-ups wasn’t enough, he should’ve made him beg for his life more—

“Listen to me,” Satoru said as he broke the hug, the deep frown in his grave expression made you almost sob. He gently wiped your overflowing tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“Stop thinking that. You’re alright. You’re going to get better. You and me—we are going to raise our son together.”

You took in each of his words fully, even as your lips quivered.

“And mark my words…” Right in this moment, you thought that your husband was most dashing as he gave you his promises—as his blue eyes glimmered under the light. “They won’t ever lay their hands on you ever again. Not while I’m here. Not ever. I already made sure of that.”

You were curious about what he did, but you chose not to press further when Satoru leaned in suddenly and brushed his lips against yours in a soft kiss, melting your heart into mush.

When he pulled away, it was his usual teasing grin on his handsome face. “Now, I only have one duty left— that is to get my cute wife back on her feet. So, be a good little wifey and have lots of fruits and sleep, okay?”

You giggled freely this time, feeling tremendously safe and loved, and instead of answering, you chose to peck his lips instead— hoping that he’d know that you trusted him with your whole life.

. . .

“By the way… Satoru, where’s our baby?” you missed your pumpkin, and while being with your funny husband lifted your spirits, you wanted to cuddle him too.

He chuckled in response. “Ah! Since Megumi is on an assignment, I left him with Ichiji earlier! Don’t worry, I’ll come pick him up soon, ‘kay?”

Epilogue

“I’m going out for a bit, and if you ever make him upset or cry… I can and I will sense it! So Ichiji—do your best!”

“Bwa…”

“Eeek!”

Ichiji stared at Baby Gojo with literal sweat on his forehead, as the little being curiously looked up at him.

By all means, this baby was adorable. Even more so when his father dressed him in a shark onesie. It was a peculiar choice—just like any of Gojo’s choices were—but it sure made the baby look even more endearing.

But the thing is… he didn’t feel secure enough to hold him! Especially when he didn’t know if Gojo’s claim of telepathic connection with his son was true or not!

Amidst his thoughts, suddenly Ichiji felt a soft touch on his arm and immediately turned to find the little munchkin putting his little hand on him and staring at him with such pureness unbefitting of Gojo Satoru’s son.

How can this baby be a stark contrast to his father? Ichiji was almost tempted to snuggle him, but he knew better.

“O-oh… d-don’t touch me…”

And as he retracted his hand back, the baby suddenly widened his eyes, feeling betrayed apparently, as his little lips wobbled and face scrunched up, so ready to burst into tears—

“Hic…”

“—!! Nooo! Don’t cry! Your father will fry me—! Eeek!!”

https://x.com/miha_ut/status/1363849257329991690?s=46&t=_1b483ARcjmNSXNEWIFNqQ

SON GOJO🥹🙏🏽

AWWW so cute🤧 the one piece is so cute—gojo is totally dressing him up as everything🥹 thank you for dropping these nonnie it gives me the boost to continue babysitter’s club😋

Showing 'Excitement' in Writing

Eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Bouncing on the balls of their feet.

Clapping hands together in delight.

Speaking in a high-pitched, rapid tone.

Grinning from ear to ear.

Jumping up and down with joy.

Hugging others spontaneously.

Cheeks flushed with enthusiasm.

Widening eyes and raised eyebrows.

Waving hands animatedly while talking.

Giggling or laughing uncontrollably.

Unable to sit still, shifting in their seat.

Heart racing with exhilaration.

Feet tapping or legs jiggling.

Practically vibrating with energy.

Exclaiming, "I can't believe it!" repeatedly.

Reaching out to touch or grab someone’s hand.

Dancing or spinning around.

Clutching their chest as if to contain the excitement.

Practicing or rehearsing what they’ll say or do.

ah it’s finally here. the fushigojo shibuya arc warnings: just a dash of angst, pregnancy, jjk manga spoilers

then.

megumi’s been in his room since you’d returned from the hospital. which was, at this point, six hours ago.

you and gojo had been sitting on the floor outside his bedroom door for five.

“what do we say to him?” you ask, resting your head on your husband’s shoulder. “what can we do to make this a little bit better?”

“i don’t know,” he answers quietly, taking your hand into both of his. “there’s…no parenting book or article about how to comfort your kid after his sister’s been cursed.”

you squeeze your eyes shut, exhaling through the deep ache in your chest. it’d been difficult to see her like that. your tsumiki, sweet, kind, and caring, laying lifeless in that bed.

“at the hospital he told me they’d had a fight the day before. that he’d said something mean. it was the last thing he said to her.”

“tsumiki wouldn’t hold it against him,” gojo says. “she knows what he’s like. knows it was probably from a place of care.”

it’d also been hard to see megumi sitting at her bedside, face stony as he clutched his sister's hand. “doesn’t mean he feels any less awful about it.”

“yeah,” gojo sighs, letting his head fall back against the door. you suppose he might know what that’s like.

“what do we do, satoru?” you ask, tears brimming your eyes. “we still don’t know how—”

“hey, it’s okay.” it comes out a little unsteady, as he himself isn't convinced of it, but he wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer as the last few hours finally catch up to you. you’re exhausted, distraught, and hurting. “we can figure that out tomorrow, but for now we’ve gotta focus on him.”

all you can manage is a small nod as he wipes the tears from your cheeks and helps you up, the two of you pushing open the door.

megumi's sitting on the floor with his head in his hands, shoulders trembling slightly. he doesn't have to lift his head for the both of you to know his cheeks are stained with tears.

something painful grips your heart at the realization that you've never seen him cry before. not when he was 6 and you took him to the doctor to get his first shot. not when he was 8 and fell out of the tree at the park across from your apartment and broke his arm. not when he was 11 and lost his first science fair.

but his sorrow flows freely now, proof of a sibling who was well-loved and sorely missed. you slowly sink to your knees in front of him, pulling him into a hug and letting his tears soak your shirt.

now.

you're not sure how to feel as you stare at those two pink lines.

for the most part, you're elated. because this is good...right? a baby was good news. it'd relieve some of the pressure the two of you had been under from the gojo clan, which was a plus.

but you'd be lying if you said you didn't have...a feeling. you tap the test against the palm of your hand, lips pursed as you reach for your phone to call gojo.

but the front door opens before you can tap his contact, and megumi walks in.

“hey!” you grin, fumbling to hide the test behind your back. “what are you doing here?”

megumi stares at you in that awfully analytical way he’d picked up from your husband. “gojo sent me to find you.”

your smile quickly disappears. “why?”

“he said something’s happening in shibuya. i think he might need help.” then, after a moment, “what are you holding?”

you can’t lie to megumi, you’ve never been able to. so you sigh, pulling the test from behind your back. “i think i’m pregnant.”

his brows raise in surprise, but he quickly smooths his expression over. “does he know?”

“no, i just found out,” you tell him, grabbing your coat. “do you think he’ll be excited? can you act surprised when i tell him? so he thinks he’s the first—”

“you shouldn’t come.”

it’s your turn to stare at him in disbelief. “you just said that you think he needs help—”

megumi grimaces and tries again. “but with your condition—”

“get in the car, megumi,” you snap, grabbing your keys. “we’re going to shibuya.”

--

shibuya is a disaster.

it's frantic, messy. you're overwhelmed. you need to throw up. you can't find gojo.

you're holding onto megumi as to not lose track of him, gripping the sleeve of his shirt as you run around the station looking for that telltale shock of white hair.

and when you finally see it, he's not alone.

it all comes back in flashes, once treasured memories that only bring pain as you stare at the man you thought was dead. "is that—”

megumi's yelling, but gojo doesn't seem to hear him. he's frozen in place, staring at the man who was once his best friend.

that's when it happens. it snaps gojo out of his state of shock, and you can only look on in horror as he's gripped by something you'd only read about in books but never seen yourself.

you're fighting to pull air into your lungs now. you know what's happening. you're stumbling forward, reaching for him, but megumi grabs you around the waist and hauls you backwards.

"no! satoru!"

it's after his name is ripped from your chest that he sees you. it hurts, the naked fear in his eyes when he looks at you and megumi and shouts something you can't hear over the roar in your ears. you desperately pull at the threads of your cursed energy, the shadows around you swirling in response as if they too are reaching for him.

but you're too late.

you're too stunned to speak, clinging to megumi as he drags you back and away.

he doesn't stop until the two of you into the shadows of a secluded corner, both of you slumping against the wall. megumi says your name a few times, but you can't hear him over the train of thoughts racing through your head.

it's when he finally croaks, "mom," shaking you, that you look up into the concerned face of your megumi. the only person you have left. "you need to go. if...if that was their plan all along, then chances are you're in danger too."

you shake your head. "i'm not leaving you here."

"i can't lose you," he whispers, and your heart breaks when the tears he's been holding back form in the corners of his eyes. "please."

he pulls you into a tight embrace, his hands desperately gripping the back of your shirt as he lets you lean into him.

"it's going to be okay. we're going to be okay," you tell him, and though he nods against your shoulder, you know he's just as unsure as you are.

Weirdly Healing Things to Do When You’re Feeling Creatively Burned Out...

Write a fake 5-star Goodreads review of your WIP—as if you didn’t write it. Go ahead. Pretend you're a giddy reader who just discovered this masterpiece. Bonus: add emojis, chaotic metaphors, and all-caps screaming. It’s self-indulgent. It’s delusional. It’s delicious.

Give your main character a Pinterest board titled “Mentally Unstable but Aesthetic.” Include outfits, quotes, memes, cursed objects, and that one painting that haunts their dreams. This is not about logic. This is about ✨vibes.✨

Make a “deleted scenes” folder and write something that would never make it into the book. A crackfic. A “what if they were roommates” AU. The group chat from hell. This is your WIP’s blooper reel. Let it be silly, chaotic, or wildly off-brand.

Interview your villain like you’re Oprah. Ask the hard-hitting questions. “When did you know you were the drama?” “Do you regret the murder, or just the way you did it?” Bonus points if they lie to your face.

Host a fake awards show for your characters. Categories like “Most Likely to Die for Vibes,” “Worst Emotional Regulation,” “Himbo Energy Supreme,” or “Best Use of a Dramatic Exit.” Write their acceptance speeches. Yes, this counts as writing.

Write a breakup letter… to your inner critic. Be petty. Be dramatic. “Dear Self-Doubt, this isn’t working for me anymore. You bring nothing to the table but anxiety and bad vibes.” Rip it up. Burn it. Tape it to your mirror. Your call.

Create a “writing comfort kit” like you’re a cozy witch. A candle that smells like your WIP. A tea that your characters would drink. A playlist labeled “for writing when I’m one rejection email away from giving up.” This is a ritual now.

Design a fake movie poster or book cover like your story is already famous. Add star ratings, critic quotes, and some pretentious tagline like “One soul. One destiny. No chill.”

Write a scene you’re not ready to write—but just a rough, messy outline version. Not the polished thing. Just the raw emotion. The shape of it. Like sketching the bones of a future punch to the gut. You don’t have to make it perfect. Just open the door.

Let your story be bad on purpose for a day. Like, aggressively bad. Give everyone ridiculous names. Add an evil talking cat. Write a fight scene with laser swords and emotional damage. Just remind yourself that stories are meant to be played with, not feared.