Happy Birthday Nejire !!!

✎ gift

- gojo satoru x reader

what do you get the man who already has everything for his birthday?

genre: teeth-rotting fluff and comfort because no—i can't make his birthday angsty ok

note: so this is my entry for the birthday boy <3 this takes place immediately after daddy-to-be, where the first years are still yuta, maki, panda and toge

a part of gojo's love entries

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

Honestly? Satoru wondered about it a lot these days.

He already has everything he wanted—unparalleled cursed technique, a fairly happy life, a pretty wife, and just recently, a kid on the way.

But his birthday was in a week and it was as clear as a day that you were planning something for him.

“Come on, you can't fool me, sweets.”

He noticed that you had started waking up earlier than usual. Initially, he thought it was due to your morning sickness, but it turned out you were sneaking away to another room for an hour or two and only came out when it was around breakfast time.

Did you really think he wouldn't catch on? Satoru found himself torn between concern and amusement. He didn't want you to strain yourself—especially after your recent fainting spells—and yet a part of him was over the moon by the fact that you did it for him.

His eyes crinkled, twinkling with affection. “You're planning something for my birthday in the mornings lately. That's sweet, but you don't have to, really.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him. "Why are you so sure that it's for your birthday? I never said anything."

"Well, what else could it be? Unless you're cheating on me at six in the morning—"

"I have your spawn inside me, Gojo Satoru—"

"Don't call it ‘spawn’!" Satoru interjected with a theatrical gasp. "It's our very own little munchkin! Our love! Love!"

This was so ridiculous and you couldn't help yourself from giggling. And seeing you like that softened something inside him.

"Really, don't push yourself too hard," he said with a pout, resigned. "You need lots and lots of sleep."

"I'm not a baby, Satoru."

"Half of you is, so it makes you one!"

He was dramatic, but it was his own way to care because your husband was just wired that way.

You sighed, relenting. “Okay, okay… I know my limits. I will stop when I don't feel well, yeah? Besides, I won't have time to do it except in the mornings because I still have classes to teach.” It seemed like he wasn’t satisfied with your answer so you added, “Just so you know, it's something I enjoy too.”

"Hmph," Satoru huffed, eyeing you petulantly. "It'd better be good, or I'll spank you."

If it were physically possible for your eyes to roll a full 360 degrees into the back of your head and back, they definitely would have. "Oh, you will adore it, I promise."

Well, it wasn't a part of the plan, but now that he had asked for it, you'd definitely add a twist in his gift...

Satoru connected the dots instantly when he saw yarn and needles—what else were you doing aside from knitting?

His sweet wife, who woke up early just to make a handmade gift for his birthday—ahh, his heart could've burst. It was so cute and so you, the warmhearted being that you were.

He would go back early today, he decided, as he strolled the halls of the Jujutsu High with a cheerful tune. You were certainly waiting back at home and he would shower you with love and praise just for your efforts alone these past few days.

And so, he would have never expected that when he received a call from Nanami that afternoon, his world would utterly shatter in the most terrifying way.

“Gojo-san, please, you must come back.” Nanami was always steadfast even in the direst situations. And yet, now he was breathing hard, and panicking. “Something happened. You must go back to your residence—”

In that moment all he could think of was you and his baby. His entire world. Were you hurt?

He didn’t dwell on it—or rather, he couldn’t. His fingers went to rip his blindfold off as a sense of exponential dread creeped in and threatened to engulf him whole—a very, very strange, unfamiliar feeling to him—and he teleported back to his haven in a blink of an eye.

He had been ready to unleash hell, to see you lying on your own pool of blood, or anything. No, that was something he could never be ready for, but he would somehow make it right—

“Ooh, there he is!”

“Already?!”

“Nevermind—”

—and suddenly, he was swept into a whirlwind of confusion and commotion.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GOJO-SENSEI!”

Today is December 7.

It took a while for Satoru to discern everything, with his pulsating heartbeats and the rush of emotions that overwhelmed him. His eyes darted from each and every face who were suddenly in his house, searching for yours—

“Satoru!” you greeted him from behind Nanami, radiantly beaming, and only then could he finally breathe. You are safe—you’re well—

You had meant for it as a joke, a little payback for all the grievances he had caused you—and let’s not forget, Nanami—but you immediately regretted it when you had a look over the absolute terror in his heavenly blue eyes that you loved so much.

You had seen this once, before, when he proposed to you.

“Satoru.” You waltzed towards him, gently cradling his stunned face in your hands. “Hey,” you coaxed him with an apologetic smile, reassuring him of your presence.

Satoru looked at you squarely in the eyes, and as he fully took in the sight of you, he let out a shuddering breath and pulled you close with a firm arm around your waist and and the other around your back.

“You evil woman,” he murmured in your ears, and you could feel the slight tremble of his body and the way his heart was still thumping wildly inside his sturdy chest, which made you feel even more sorry.

“Whoa, that got you good, huh?” Panda remarked with a bemused grin.

“As expected,” Megumi snorted.

“Salmon! Salmon!”

“Ehh, that’s actually sweet…” Maki noted thoughtfully. “I would have never expected him to drop everything that fast just to go back here only after a suspicious phone call—”

“Of course he would!” Yuta rebuked with pride. “It’s his wife after all! And Nanami-san truly did a really convincing job at it!”

Nanami. Satoru casted a stern glare toward his junior, while the man in question awkwardly coughed. How did you even involve him in this?

Nah, he would deal with him later.

Despite the scare that got him good, your little plan commenced as it should. The closest of his friends and students were there to throw him this silly birthday party, as well as shower him with a plethora of gifts.

You had managed to round up his students to write birthday wishes for him in a scrap book filled with various photographs throughout the past year. This is sweet, he thought.

And one note tugged at his heartstrings the most:

Thank you, sensei, for everything — Yuta.

If anything he did ever made an impact on those young sorcerers, then Satoru was wholeheartedly glad. He wanted them to grow and made their own path in this unforgiving world, and their gratitude stirred a profound sense of relief within him.

“Here.” He was genuinely surprised when Megumi abruptly pushed a long, thin box toward him next, shyly averting his gaze. “Happy birthday.”

A fountain pen. It must have costed him some. It was strange, but Satoru felt oddly emotional.

“Aw! Megumiii~!”

The kid was barely six when he first approached him. He was prickly and sour and definitely wasn't welcoming. And then, he had matured right before his eyes. Satoru couldn’t help ruffling his hair vigorously and snickered, disregarding the scowl directed his way.

Nanami extended his well-wishes, and even though he still had a score to settle with him later, he was happy to have him here. Shoko couldn’t come but she left you with a recorded message.

“Happy birthday, Gojo, idiot,” Shoko was grinning in the video you played. “I'm sorry I can't be there, but my wish is for you to tone down your antics. We could all use a bit less of that.”

The two remaining reminders of the bluest spring in his life. Something pricked his heart at the stark reminder that they were not whole—and if only that someone was here, they would—but the fact that these two thought of him was enough.

And now, at last, it was time for your gift. Satoru thought he knew what it was, but as he carefully opened the ivory box, a profound sense of warmth still washed over him.

Mittens, with the color of freshly fallen snow, lay in the box—two pairs in total. One was remarkably tiny, seemingly tailored for a baby, while the other was notably larger, undoubtedly meant for him.

You. Him. The baby. By this time next year, there would be three of you. The happy picture of all of you together in near future was a gift in and of itself. You two were his everything.

Satoru went by his instincts and grasped your arm, kissing you ardently, beaming with the broadest grin. He paid no heed to the squeals and disapproving glances from everyone around, as he felt entitled to do so—declaring his love boldly so you would know… that he was utterly, hopelessly in love with you.

That he was grateful for you in this otherwise dreary life.

And that if there were any other lives he might live after this ended... then he wanted the heavens to bring you back to his arms once again.

Epilogue

“So you really did call Nanami at six in the morning.”

Later that night, just before bed, your husband was still holding a grudge on you for frightening him back in the day, evident by the permanent purse of his lips.

You shrugged, buttoning the last button of your sleepwear. “I did… but it’s for greater purpose, so… yeah.”

“I can’t stand this. I’m suing you for collateral damage.”

You almost laughed. “Pffft—what? What damage—”

“My fragile heart! You can’t do that to me and expect I won’t charge you, hmph!”

“Well…” You noted with a meaningful smile. You couldn’t say you didn’t expect this, because Satoru always got pouty whenever he was irked in one way or another, and so in advance, you had actually been prepared for this.

You caught him off guard when you suddenly sat on his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers teasing his undercut. It was a nice change of pace, seeing the faint blush coloring his cheeks as he steadied you by your waist.

“…what if I say… I still have one present left for you?”

So, what did you get a man who already has everything for his birthday?

Your whole heart, of course.

And if you were in the mood for an additional surprise, a brand new pair of lacy lingerie you had under your pajamas might do the trick.

can i rq matching mirio togata and tamaki amajiki transmasc circle icons w/their plushies? thanks!

I drew Nejire after a long time 🥹

Family(?) To celebrate 6k on Twitter lol

Hero of Cybertron

Overwhelming Emotions - Grimmjow Jaegarjaquez

A/N: So life has been turbulent and just stressful lately? And amidst the chaos, this little idea popped into my head wondering what it would be like to have Grimmjow comforting me when I'm overwhelmed. So I have been working on this for the last few days! Is it a kind of silly idea just because of HOW Grimmjow is? Probably—but I also like thinking that despite the fact he's an aggressive guy, once he's in a relationship he'd try his best to figure everything out? Even if he's rough around the edges and struggling a bit.

GN!Reader

💗Fluff - Hurt/Comfort💗 Warnings - Swearing, Grimmjow being frustrated/aggressive in the beginning

1,000 Words

He wasn’t sure which was more pathetic—how you looked all curled up on the bed with your blanket pulled up past your head, or how he felt inside looking at you in such a state. Either way? Grimmjow hated it. It irritated him to hear the silent little sobs you were trying so hard to hold back, it pissed him off that you wouldn’t talk to him, and it made his blood boil to not know what was wrong with you or how to fix it.  

Grimmjow moved from his place in your doorway to your bedside, trying gently at first to pull your blanket off—only to be met with resistance. He clicked his tongue, “Hey, what the hell is your problem?” He grunted, using more force in an attempt to rip you out of your cocoon and failing, “Seriously dumbass? Get the fuck out of there and talk to me! Are you sick or somethin’? Come on!” His tone got more and more frustrated as he tried so hard to wrestle that stupid, fluffy barrier that kept you separated from him.  

The Arrancar just wanted to look at you at this point, whether or not you were angry with him after he took the dumb blanket from you? He didn’t care—he just needed to see your eyes, feel your weak little punches on his shoulder, hear you shout at him. Anything but that sad whimpering that somehow seemed to be getting louder and louder in his ears.  

But you didn’t give, pulling the blanket from his grip and tucking it further and tighter around you as you scrunched into an even smaller little ball. Grimmjow roared, kicking the dresser that sat next to your bed with a loud *thunk*, “DAMMIT! STOP BEING SO STUBBORN!” He shouted, only making you weep more; the little lump that was your body violently trembling. 

Grimmjow groaned, clenched fists hitting the top of the now messed-up dresser as he took one long, deep breath. He wasn’t trying to scare you; you were the last person he actually wanted to scare—ever. But he didn’t know how to express or explain that weird, grating feeling that seemed to brew inside of what he thought was a once-dead and empty heart. That strange, uncomfortable, nagging pain that seemed to grow the more you cried in front of him.  

He could feel a pang in his heart as he heard you, an unpleasant and annoying feeling of guilt for scaring you creeping inside of him and making him even more angry. It wasn’t any big secret that Grimmjow wasn’t the best with emotions, nor was he the most comforting or patient person to deal with—much less be in a relationship with. All he knew was chaos and rage, not how to tell from moment to moment how you felt or what to do about it. 

He needed you to tell him what was wrong. You’d guided him through so much in your relationship so far, telling him how to act or what to say in certain situations. He always acted annoyed and bothered by it, teasing you about how dumb it all was. Who were you to give orders to a powerful being such as him anyway? But now, as a wave of stress, guilt, confusion, and anger washed over him, he wanted your nagging words more than anything. 

How could he help you? What could he do to make you stop crying? What could he do to get rid of that aching feeling in his chest? How could he protect you from something he didn’t understand? All he wanted more than anything was to just hold you, keep you safe, feel your heartbeat so all of his nerves could stop standing on end—so he could stop worrying about you. 

Grimmjow sighed, clenching his fists so tight that his knuckles turned white as he heard your cries get even more strained, your breathing labored as you hiccupped in between each sob. “Fuck it.” He muttered to himself, stomping around your room to the other side of the bed. He collapsed onto your mattress with enough force that you bounced upwards, adjusting himself to face what he assumed was your back. 

He could feel you tense up for a moment as he snaked one hand underneath your blanket and onto your stomach, pulling you softly yet snugly against his body, leaving no space between you and him. He buried his nose into the blanket, closing his eyes as he took a deep inhale of your familiar and comforting scent. He didn’t know if this was the right thing to do—but all his instincts told him was he needed to feel you, hold you, do something other than just stand there like an idiot 

“Sorry, I got so pissed off and scared you, baby.” He mumbled into you, pressing kisses against your blanketed form “It wasn’t your fault, I...got nervous and didn’t know what to do when I saw you like this. I have a lot of this idiotic relationship shit to still learn, don’t I?” He joked, earning a mixture of a cry and a laugh from you. 

“Yeah...you do.” You finally said shakily, your voice hoarse, putting your own hand over his. He chuckled lightly in response, pulling you even somehow tighter against him. You started to relax a little the longer he held you, your sobs continuing on for a few minutes more as he did nothing but draw little patterns with his fingers across your torso and whispered "Love ya" over and over.  

If you wanted to hide under that dumb blanket? Grimmjow wasn’t going to stop you. But as long as he could be next to you as you hid from the world under there, crying whatever you needed to get out of your system? He wasn’t going to let you do it alone—and he sure as hell was going to murder whatever got you feeling like this afterward.  

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Some more goodies for the Fatgum Agency Calendar! I decided to take a cuter approach for the sticker sheet and shopping list hehe✨

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