#I love me some fluff

[raerodart]

I’m not good at romance, i’m sorry 😅

Part 1

Part 2

[demaparbat-hp]

Slow mornings in Ba Sing Se.

I needed something soft today, so here's a little sketch for @nerdylizj's breathtaking fic Forgetting is a kind of mercy.

[generalsdiary]

Sunday mannerisms I noticed during the 2.7 livestream

when he finds something funny or amusing but doesn't laugh out loud - his right wing twitches

when he is happy or joyous - his left wing twitches

when he is flustered, shy or laughing out loud - both wings twitch

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

COME REST YOUR BONES NEXT TO ME ; SATORU GOJO, SUGURU GETO

synopsis; satoru shares the first snowfall of the year with the two people he loves most. 

word count; 4.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader/suguru geto (poly relationship!!), gn!reader, you're all whipped, reader referred to as spouse, fluff fluff fluff!!, sickeningly domestic, just comfy vibes all around, mostly from satoru’s pov, suguru has a favorite (its you) (but also not really he just likes bullying toru <3), satoru gojo may or may not have unresolved mommy issues

a/n; happy satosugu holidays to those who celebrate <33 geto died today isnt that crazy. dont u think its fucked up how love figuratively and literally killed him. anyway! help urself to two very whipped husbands <33

”holy shit!”

the raspy tilt of satoru’s voice echoes throughout the bedroom, stirring you from your comfortable slumber. a soft groan spills from suguru’s lips, deep and husky, as he pulls you closer into his embrace — smoothing a warm palm down the back of your head. trying to soothe you back to sleep, muttering under his breath.

”satoru, it’s too early for this...”

”it’s snowing!” said man continues, unperturbed. unmistakably giddy. he’s standing by the window, hands pressed flush against the cold glass; entirely entranced by the sight in front of his cerulean eyes. 

your eyelids begin to flutter. a tiny tug of your subconscious, a pang of something excited flowing through your veins, an alert to your sleepy brain.

(snowing.)

with groggy movements, you wriggle out of suguru’s grasp — a displeased grumble leaves his throat, almost a whine — allowing you to scramble out of bed. ”really?” you chirp, rubbing the sleep from beneath your eyes. a raspy, meek little voice spilling into the air.

satoru grins, watching you move closer, watching as a tiny gasp pushes past your lips. watching as your droopy eyes widen — brightening, glittering, starlight and snowflakes painted on the interior of your iris. a breathtaking sight, he thinks. 

maybe even more breathtaking than the winter wonderland reflected in it; beyond the pure opaque frosting of the window’s glass, out into your backyard, buried beneath a thick layer of snow. soft and fluffy, covering the city, suguru’s long-frozen tulip garden, the bare branches of your apricot tree. every roof in sight. all of it dyed a pure white, glittering in the light of a morning sun yet to fully rise, tiny snowflakes descending down to earth. 

it’s beautiful. 

satoru loves winter. he always has, he thinks. it comes to him as a memory — blurred at the edges, gleaming even still, the first time he saw those snowflakes up close. someone held him in their arms, he recalls. a warmth long faded. 

all he can properly remember is that sight. one that knocked the breath from out his tiny lungs, all glitter and something almost other-worldly, something frightening in its majesty. like it broke through a rift in the stratosphere. 

the first snow of the year.

and he’s loved it ever since; the soft crunch of snow beneath his feet, an air heavy with the scent of cinnamon and candied apples, bouts of laughter to be heard from faraway apartments. red and green glimmers of artificial light, sweet frosting on the christmas cake he would always gobble up alone in his room. the cold wind, nipping at his bare fingers — a reminder of his capacity for ache.

there are lots of things to love. lots of memories to cherish. and every single year, he gets the chance to make more.

like this; the light in your eyes, the smile on your face, the excitement in how hurriedly you turn to meet his giddy gaze. a nostalgic kind of joy simmering in the space between you.

and before either of you know it, satoru’s pulling you towards the hallway, intent on dragging you outside to see it all up close. almost tripping over his agumon plush, lying unassumingly on the floor, kicked off the bed once again. 

(probably by satoru himself, though he’ll always insist it was suguru’s doing. overcome by his jealousy, surely, unable to stand the sight of his cute husband cuddling up to a plushie instead of him. satoru understands, he does — he feels the same when he sees you hug that 3’0 cat plushie of yours.

and, sure, maybe once or twice he’s been lucid enough to register the subconscious kick of his leg and agumon’s subsequent fall to the floor — but he’ll still blame suguru in the morning. if only to see the way said man rolls his eyes, clicks his tongue, maybe flicks his forehead if he’s really lucky.)

high on the spirit of christmas, spurred on by childlike elation and sleep-deprivation, you stumble towards the door. satoru pulls one of his jackets over your shoulders, delighting in the way your hands don’t fully reach through the sleeves. wrapping you up in a cozy scarf when suguru shouts at you both to dress warmly, barely awake and already tired of your antics.

and the moment you step through the door, satoru is engulfed by it. that mystical, mystical feeling. 

a little lonely, a little too satisfying to pass up. a cold breeze that nips at his fingertips, snowflakes that brush against his cheeks and stick to his white lashes. a warm hand in his, as you cling to his side, shuddering — but smiling, as you look up at the sky, putting a hand out just to feel the snowflakes melt against the skin of your palm.

he feels you let go of him, but doesn’t mention it. a little too mesmerized to tug you back. dipping his toes into the bittersweet nostalgia of it all, staring at the flurry of white all around you, the skeletal branches of your apricot tree. suguru’s poor tulips. humming a jolly tune, subconsciously. a little delighted.

— until something cold and wet hits the exposed skin of his neck.

satoru twitches, a chilling shudder trickling down his spine. the snowball just thrown at him begins to melt, droplets sticking to his nape, and he turns to you with a raise of his brow. a devilish grin on his lips, when he hears your muffled laughter, sees the crinkle of your eyes.

(you’re cute, he thinks. but you need to be humbled.)

”oh, so that’s how you wanna play?” he drawls, eyes gleaming with amusement. taking a step forward, reaching down to gather some snow in his palm. a wide grin on his glossy lips. ”fine by me.” 

he's fast, but you act quickly, running towards the apricot tree with laughter in your throat. feeling the pitter patter of your heartbeat resound in your ears, as the snowball misses its mark by just a hair — and you waste no time in making your own.

it’s a hard-fought duel. snowfall blocking your vision, nerves beginning to numb, red cheeks and runny noses as you chase each other with giddy breaths. unfortunately for you, satoru’s arms are unfairly long, fingers unfairly nimble, and his stamina never even seems to falter.

so before long, your energy begins to dwindle. chest heaving, hands too cold to form a proper snowball, while your husband seems like he hasn’t even broken a sweat. they just keep on coming, snowball after snowball colliding with the fabric of your jacket, and when one of them hits your collarbone you squeal — falling backwards, right into a fresh pile of snow.

satoru moves forward, a triumphant smirk on his handsome face. you’re out of breath, and your hands are red, and he’s fairly certain you’re gonna catch a cold. suguru’s going to scold him, but right now all he can think of is you. the frown you’re wearing, the little huff that slips from your lips.

”ready to admit defeat, sweetheart?” he practically purrs, standing above you with his hands on his hips. smug. and you grin right back.

”never.”

a hum. something glimmers in his eyes, a devious little glint, and you come to regret your decision when satoru gathers a heap of snow with his overgrown arms; only to drop it all on top of you. too tired to fight back, all you can do is shield your face, silently accepting your fate.

a shiver wracks through your body, and satoru almost feels bad. just a tiny bit. but then you finally relent, murmuring bitterly under your breath. ”fine, fine…” a soft pout forms on your lips. ”you win.”

and satoru smiles. crouching down to meet you at eye level, on his knees in front of you. there’s a teasing mirth in his eyes, when he reaches out to cup the fat of your cheek. ”that’s all i wanted to hear, sweet pea,” he drawls, trying not to giggle when you exaggeratedly roll your eyes.

his voice curls down an octave when he continues, leaning forward to brush his nose against yours. hot breath against your chilled skin. ”now, for my prize…”

his lips meet yours, sweet and chaste — a little cheeky. you scoff into the kiss, but satoru’s smile only grows. honeyed, a little bit adoring. his tongue flits out to lick at your cold bottom lip.

he lingers, for a bit. like he’s trying to savour the way you taste, faded strawberry chapstick sticking to his lips, smudged against your own. and you sigh, softly, melting a little, comforted by the fleeting warmth that blossoms on your face. 

when he's finally satisfied, having dragged his prize out to its completion, satoru helps you up. brushing snowflakes off your jacket, cradling your ice-cold hands in his. they’re not faring much better, but a worried tug of his heartstrings compels him to warm you up. bringing them to his lips, hot breath fanning over your skin, tender little kisses against the knots of your knuckles.

you can’t help but blush, and a raspy chuckle flows from out his lips. 

hazy morning sunshine licks at the branches of the apricot tree behind you, illuminating the contours of your face, the shine of his eyes. a blue smudge on a canvas painted white and gray. the air smells of pine cones and something smokey, crisp. it courses through his burning lungs when he inhales, exhales, a breath of vapour that scatters up into the sky.

satoru loves winter. always has. but now, he’s certain he loves it even more.

because now, he has two people to share it with. two people to drag out into the snow, two people whose hands he can tenderly warm up, two people who’ll laugh and sigh at his antics and still indulge him. two people to pelt with snowballs. 

what more could a man want?

”hey, idiots!” 

the voice that echoes throughout the air is exasperated, a little teasing. yet fond. suguru’s got his hair tied into a messy half done bun, black turtleneck sweater enunciating his broad chest and the curve of his waist. there’s a fatigue in his eyes, the creases of his face, but a lazy smile is playing at his lips.

”i’m making breakfast,” he shouts, voice deep and smokey and soft even still. ”come in and warm up before you catch a cold.”

”is that any way to speak to your husband and spouse?” satoru chimes back, a melodic lilt to his sugarsweet voice. something satisfied. pleased.

suguru shoots him an unimpressed look, but his eyes soften. melting a little, at the words that spill from satoru’s lips, as if they were always meant to be there. 

(husband. spouse. suguru wills himself not to smile.)

with matching grins on your faces, the two of you stumble back towards the door. snow crunching beneath your feet, a happy noise pushing past your lips when you collide with the warmth of your husband’s chest.

”look, suguru. isn’t it pretty?” you chirp, smiling brightly. an expression he mirrors — brushing some snow from the top of your head, warm palms caressing your cold skin, setting a mental reminder to scold satoru later. sparing a brief glance at the snowy veil over reality.

then he exhales. a fond hum. ”it is.”

satoru joins you both by the door, stretching out his lanky limbs. tousled hair, wet strands sticking to his skin, reddened cheeks and a signature pout. ”suguru, my hands are cold,” he whines. ”warm ’em up for me?”

a click of his tongue. ”should’ve put some gloves on, satoru.”

a hum buzzes in your throat, and you put your hands out. itchy, a little dry. a sad frown tugs at your lips when you speak. ”my hands are also cold.”

and, like clockwork, suguru’s eyes soften. a coo tiptoeing on his tongue, engulfing your hands in his larger ones. ”aw, c’mere, my love…” his breath fans over your frozen fingertips. ”let’s get you warmed up, hm?”

satoru gasps, a hand on his chest, and you stifle a giggle. he’s acting, you both know, being a little drama queen. he knows you’re just exaggerating suguru’s double standard as a bit, that your husband would probably set himself on fire to warm either of you up.

despite that, his voice comes out thoroughly offended. ”oh, i see how it is,” he huffs, walking past the both of you. pouting deeply. ”you hate me. you hate me, and you want me to die. i understand.”

”satoru,” you coo. he hmphs, but stills, waiting for you to wrap your arms around him. and you do — a little too eager to appease your giant baby of a husband.

”we’re just joking around,” you assure him, holding back a humorous chuckle. squeezing his waist with palpable fondness. ”love you sooo much. you know that.”

satoru stays silent. but he cranes his neck, to meet suguru’s gaze, standing just behind him. narrowing his cobalt eyes — a meaningful look.

suguru sighs.

”yes, yes. we love you oh so much.” he takes a step forward, ruffling the white head of hair by the door. a lazy smile on his lips. ”now behave and go change out of your pyjamas. they’re soaked.”

his voice is teasing. exasperated, more than a little condescending. but it’s suguru, so satoru accepts it — following you both into the warmth of your home. the scent of cinnamon and vanilla hangs heavy in the air, a hint of espresso and firewood, lulling him into a sweet state of tranquility. rich with comfort, safety.

he changes out of his wet clothes, pulling a black hoodie over his head before waltzing into the kitchen. and you do the same, emerging from your bedroom in one of suguru’s cozy sweaters, knitted and smelling of bergamot. 

when suguru notices, his gaze shifts into something fond. palpable. a look satoru always finds in the scope of those warm eyes, amber and cedar bleeding into something sweet, only ever directed at the two of you. a look said man assumes goes unnoticed. he’s not as slick as he thinks.

the kitchen simmers with hazy sunlight and gentle movements, something sleepy and kind. satoru is a little bit enamored with it; from bowls of cat food by the corner, to camellias by the windowsill, cookie jars and dried lemon slices, the fading scent of baked goods and wishlists stuck to the fridge.

(yours and satoru’s are filled with scribbles, new ideas popping up daily, while suguru’s is almost entirely blank; mostly necessities, one or two things he’d like for himself.

and then, of course, the same thing he writes at the top of his wishlist every year; some peace and quiet.)

suguru shuffles around the kitchen, long strands of black hair cascading down his back, swaying with his movements. he sends you both an affectionate glance when you step in, already in the process of making satoru his cup of hot chocolate — topped with marshmallows and whipped cream, colorful sprinkles in the shape of tiny stars, a touch of cinnamon. satoru licks his lips.

when it's finished, the cup is promptly handed to him, paired with a tender kiss to his forehead. and suguru starts the meticulous brewing of your coffee, steady hands, finely chosen coffee beans, the low purring of the espresso machine. soothing.

that’s when you attach yourself to his back. wrapping your arms around his waist, a sleepy yawn muffled into the fabric of his turtleneck. he places a big palm on your hand, thumb smoothing over your knuckle, and you nuzzle into him silently. suguru smiles.

”still sleepy, baby?” he questions, a coo on the tip of his tongue. his voice is soft, palpably so, buzzing with warmth and safety and something that makes you want to stay cuddled up to him forever.

satoru senses an opportunity to insert himself into the conversation, and forces out a yawn of his own. stretching his limbs like a big cat, blinking drowsily, eyelashes fluttering. hoping it’ll come off as endearing. ”mhm.” 

but suguru shoots him an unimpressed look. ”not you,” he tuts, patting your arm, ”this baby. i wasn’t asking you.”

a pout. ”why are you so mean to me?” he whines, shooting you a doe-eyed look. bottom lip jutting out slightly, a feigned glassiness to his eyes. ”sweetie, tell your husband to stop being so mean to me.”

you smile. indulgent, as always. ”don't be so mean to him, suguru. you know he’s sensitive.”

a sigh. deep, tinged with exhaustion. satoru shares an amused look with you — stifling a shared chuckle at suguru’s exasperation.

and suddenly, he feels something warm flutter in his ribcage. a sunkissed butterfly, wings brushing against his ribs, coaxing his lips into curling up. unmistakable fondness, almost too much to bear. the need to reach out and touch you creeps up on him, a hunger he can’t deny, but he holds back; you look comfy like that, curled up against suguru’s spine. so he only inches closer, without a word. 

his husband casts him a glance, but satoru stays silent. lips pursed, waiting for something. patient.

and suguru relents. he reaches a hand out, to tuck a stray strand of white hair behind his ear — an excuse to touch him. a silent apology. 

(i'm sorry, you big baby.)

satoru grins.

you shift from foot to foot, leaning over to see what suguru is doing, pressing buttons and taking two ceramic cups out from a wall cabinet. your eyes zero in on a particular shelf, narrowing in suspicion, before flitting over to meet your husband’s gaze.

”satoru, did you use up all my peppermint sweeteners again?”

he stiffens. just a tad, before swallowing a gulp — followed by a silly chuckle, sheepish and performative, eager to wiggle his way out of your cold gaze. ”… which sweeteners do you mean, honey?”

”don’t pull the ’honey’ card.”

”and don’t play dumb, either.”

a pout crosses his lips. betrayed. ”suguru, who’s side are you even on?”

said man gives him a look. that one look, characteristically suguru, the same one he always sends satoru’s way. one so thoroughly unimpressed it makes him feel like the world’s biggest clown. 

and satoru plays along. your dutiful, beloved clown, his posture wilting like a sad flower. suguru exhales through his nose.

”don’t steal their sweeteners.” he smooths a thumb over your knuckle, absentminded, meeting the cold metal of the ring on your finger. smiling a little at the sensation. ”buy your own.”

satoru huffs, drawn out and childish. crossing his arms, leaning against the kitchen counter. ”ah, i see how it is. leaving your sweet husband to buy his own sweeteners?” he clicks his tongue. ”chivalry is dead.”

you bite back a little chuckle — satoru recognizes the cute noise you make when you do — and suguru rolls his eyes. fondly, always. ”remind me next time i go to the store and i’ll consider it.”

”hmph.”

suguru is smiling. it’s small, but genuine, worth a thousand words. and you are, too, the vague crinkle of your eyes giving you away. even as you bury your face in the curve of suguru’s back.

and ah, satoru thinks. there it is again. 

that sickeningly sweet sense of deja vu; the sensation of a certain something flourishing deep inside his chest. warming him up, trickling through his frost-bitten veins. that one little itch he never manages to satisfy, that never goes away, something that took root inside his heart years ago — watered by the sweet looks on your faces.

this everyday slice of heaven, right in front of him, that he’s been greedily partaking in ever since he moved in with you. since he married you.

(married.)

sometimes he still can’t believe it. 

”it’ll be done in a minute,” suguru hums, and satoru blinks. broken out of his syrupy stupor. ”you two go wait by the kotatsu, okay? must be cold, poor babies.” 

and, as always, his voice is a little teasing. a tiny bit condescending, if you really strain your ears, in typical suguru fashion. but it’s laced with a touch of sweetness; one that would be too much for either of you to stomach, if it were to drip out of his lips with nothing to water it down. so satoru accepts it. welcomes it, even.

and you follow his suggestion. making your way towards the living room, satoru trailing behind you, continuously enamored by every little thing he sees. every little piece of the home you’ve built for yourselves.

your living room is cozy. several potted plants seated here and there, a thick quilt to cover the kotatsu, a bowl of satsumas on top of it. a sleepy cat on your couch, golden sunshine ruffling her fur. a santa hat lies beside her, and satoru snags it without much thought. pulling it over his head.

his gaze shifts to the christmas tree over in the corner, eyes filling with a childlike kind of wonder. it’s decorated to completion, weighed down by colourful ornaments and lights, a star at the very top. suguru cut it himself, bringing the biggest and prettiest one he could find back home.

(satoru had gone with him. partially to help carry it back, mostly to get a glimpse of suguru's biceps flexing with the swing of the axe. he’s a simple man.)

and beneath it, presents are already beginning to pile up. carefully wrapped, in bows and silken paper, growing more each day. shattering suguru’s hopes of maybe having a more lowkey christmas this year — but satoru couldn’t be more relieved. this is the only time of year you let him get away with pampering you both to his heart’s content.

a smile blooms on his lips. he plops down on the floor, crossing his legs, right as suguru walks in with a coffee pot in hand. their gazes overlapping.

and something mischievous begins to brew within the blue of his eyes, something that makes suguru narrow his own. satoru pats his thigh, twice, a coo on the tip of his tongue. santa hat sitting pointedly on top of his head, fluffing up his hair.

”c’mere, suguru! sit on santa’s lap.”

”— you’re disgusting.”

the words are playful, but a pout still slips into the curve of satoru’s lips, and he huffs out a displeased little breath. his husband pretends not to hear it, so satoru turns to you — sitting so prettily to his right, already anticipating his next move. puppy dog eyes on full display, he gives you a soft tilt of his head, snowy tufts of hair falling over his eyes.

and you sigh, in what he knows is resignation. his faux pout turning into a satisfied grin.

you curl up in satoru’s lap without much of a fuss, letting him circle his arms around you. an indulgent smile rests on your lips, but he knows you love this; his broad chest against your back, the heat of the kotatsu warming your feet. breathing in the fading scent of your shampoo, he leaves a peck on the sensitive spot right behind your ear, and you try not to shudder.

then satoru smiles. squeezing you, lightly, sweetly, eyes rich with honeyed affection. voice dripping with playful endearment. ”there we go,” he coos. ”what does my angel want for christmas, hm?” 

”i want you to stop stealing my peppermint sweeteners,” comes your answer. instantaneous.

silence fills the room. a moment passes. outside your frosted windows, a bird takes flight from the branches of your apricot tree. and satoru clicks his tongue.

”… santa can only do so much, baby.”

two deep scoffs fill the air, heavy and bemused. one from you, one from suguru. satoru only giggles.

”just kidding!” he chirps, planting a kiss on the top of your head. ”don’t you worry. santa’ll give you all the peppermint sweeteners you could ever want.” 

you raise a brow, exhaling amusedly. craning your head to meet his gaze. ”and he won’t end up using them all himself?”

”of course not! blasphemy.” 

a moment passes.

”… maybe one or two. as a treat.”

a string of protests slips from your lips, and satoru tries not to burst into a fit of giggles. suguru just watches, silently, smiling lightly as he pours hot coffee into two ceramic cups. steam wafting up to the ceiling, a cat jumping down from the couch to curl up in his lap. he places one in front of you, not taking a single sip of his own until he hears you hum blissfully at the taste — pink lips against white ceramic. a bitter taste on his tongue, sweetened by your approval.

then he starts peeling three satsumas, absentmindedly, and satoru swallows down the love-ridden honey choking up the back of his throat. pretending the domesticity of such a simple action doesn’t melt his heart down to the marrow. 

he turns his attention towards the window. frost sticking to the glass like spider-woven webs, soon to be melted by the glow of the mellow winter sunrays. flitting in through the curtains, cascading over the room, splattering across the floorboards. framing the hue of your hair, the smile on suguru’s lips.

and a memory comes to him. sudden, hazy, faded at the edges. ghosting his subconscious.

he remembers the frost, the biting wind, the frightening majesty of the snow that fell that day. breaking into his world through a rift in the stratosphere. he remembers the contrasting warmth of the person who held him, who cradled him close; the soft lull of a woman’s voice. 

for a moment, satoru thinks he can almost, almost see it before him. hear those gentle words, see her tired smile. why was she always so tired?

(look, satoru. isn’t it pretty?)

— he can’t recall how it sounded. if it was melodic and soft, or raspy and broken, happy or sad. but he does recall that it made him feel safe. safe enough to find comfort in a sight so other-worldly, so very foreign.

it should’ve been frightening, but it wasn’t. the first snowfall satoru ever saw knocked the breath from out his lungs, stole his heart with cold hands, left him with a suffocating nostalgia. but the memory is precious.

and now, he feels that sense of other-worldliness in this; a kotatsu for three, a warm house, peeled satsumas and promises of a christmas cake soon to be baked. one lovely spouse in his lap, the other gazing at him with that fond look he always assumes goes unnoticed. a cocoon of safety — a ghost he doesn’t need to chase anymore.

warmth. enough warmth to make up for the snow and frost outside your home, all the experiences he missed out on as a child. warmth, warmth, warmth. funny, how that happens to be satoru’s favorite thing about winter. 

he looks at the two of you, hoping you won’t pay any mind to his silence. for once, he hopes you’ll stay wrapped up in your awful, awful coffee, so bitter that just looking at it makes his throat feel dry. just so he can get away with admiring you for a little longer. from the contours of suguru’s face, to the skin of your collarbone, to the rings on your fingers. ones he put there himself. 

and ah, satoru thinks, there it is again. again and again, as always, forever. that warm, warm feeling flourishing in the depths of his chest. 

he hopes it never goes away.

[somewhereincairparavel]

I think I've already made a post about this MONTHS ago but the valgrace nation wasn't as active back then so the post didn't reach that far, but I'm reviving this now, to say that it's canon jason and leo played mario party six on chiron's gaming room together :>

[salsakiyoomi]

“do you love me?”

that's the question sukuna hates most.

he scoffs, “do not ask me that question.” he says — he was the king of curses for god’s sake.

and yet.

you smile at him and his heart does a little flutter, something he can’t comprehend the reason for.

“can you answer that question once?” you say and he rolls his eyes.

“i don't do love, concubine.” he says.

“and yet you let me stay in your chambers for the next morning.” you tease.

it's true, sukuna always let you stay in his chambers for the night and for the next morning, something he never did with the other concubines, something he will never do with them.

this was reserved for you, and only you.

“it doesn't mean anything.” he denies and you let out a laugh, “sure it doesn't.”

“do not make fun of me, woman.” he growls and you laugh again and he relishes in the sound of it, the sound of your happiness — something that he will never admit.

“i'm just saying, denial is the first step.” you say, and your tone is a bit sleepy as you hum to yourself, snuggling up to him and subconsciously, his arms wrap around your waist.

“think about it,” you tell him before yawning, “goodnight, ‘kuna.”

it was stupid of you to think that he could do love, and yet everything he has done for you says otherwise, everything he remembers about you, everytime he kisses you and every time he holds you ever so gently.

sukuna was undoubtedly in love with you, he never said it, but you knew.

you always knew.

sukuna pulls you closer to him as you drift off to sleep, snoring softly, and once he's sure you're in deep slumber, he mumbles,

“goodnight, y/n.”

[restlesskeychains]

Before the bad stuff happened

[lvlymicha]

WHERE IS THE FLUFF?? WHERE IS THE ANGST?? WHERE IS THE HURT/COMFORT?? WHERE IS THE LOVE?? WHERE????

[ministarfruit]

day 2: please be gentle ♡

(femslashfeb prompt list)

[yuviur]

Summer vacation, 4am.

Tons of easter eggs in this one! Click the image to find them (and for better quality ofc)

Close ups and process shots under the cut, description in alt text

[turbo-tsundere]

*superglues them together*

Aka, eeeeh fok it. Here's some ougoku stuff I've been sitting on. Happy THOSE GUYS day.

[comet-ribbon]

Toy story Ao3 Prideyear fics now: *leaves rustling in no new fics*

Me: Fine. I’LL DO IT MYSELF.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43892701

Also written another but months back because I was shy to show it on socials.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42338856

[meowkn]

“Don’t let the pieces fall on the carpet.” Jason mutters. He’s leaning back against the couch, with you sitting between his legs on the floor. His arms wrapped around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder as you work on the new Lego set he bought the two of you.

“I’m not.” You huff, trying to focus as you worked on putting two pieces together. “Mind your business.” You add, though there was no real bite in your tone. Jason snorts, giving your shoulder a playful bite in response to your huff. “You know I always want to be all up in your business.” He teases, his arm tightening around your waist. He presses a light kiss to your neck. “I’m just making sure you don’t let any pieces go to waste.” He says against your skin.

“We need all these pieces or the car won’t be right, goofball.” He rolls his eyes, but it’s almost affectionate. “Yeah, yeah. Can’t have my girl putting together a half-assed Lego car.”

Jason watches over your shoulder as you focus on building, choosing to ignore his sentence. His hands rest on your hips, mindlessly kneading the soft flesh underneath your shirt. He offers suggestions and guidance as you assemble the pieces, unwanted, but, appreciated nonetheless. Every now and then, he mutters praise and compliments into your ear, enjoying the moment of domesticity, which he rarely gets to appreciate anymore.

“You’re doing great,” he whispers, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “I like watching you work, beautiful.”

“Should I buy the Star Wars Lego set next?” You murmur absentmindedly, your hands working diligently on the Legos. Jason’s eyes instantly light up like fireworks. “Oh hell yeah,” he says, his enthusiasm evident in his tone and the way his fingers squeeze at your hips. “Those sets are badass. We could build the Millennium Falcon or the Death Star. Or the Jedi Starfighter. Wait, no, the AT-AT Walker."

You couldn’t help but giggle as he listed off sets, shaking your head softly. He grins, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “Your laugh is adorable.” He murmurs, pressing another soft kiss to your skin.

"And you're going to buy us the biggest, coolest Star Wars Lego set you can find. We're going to build a whole damn universe."

“We’re gonna have so much fun.” You giggle, feeding into his excitement. It was rare for you to see Jason so relaxed and excited about something, all you wanted to do was keep that smile on his face. You’d walk through the deepest pits in hell to keep him smiling.

“I have no doubt about that.” He replies, his hand wrapping around your waist, his palm splayed out on your stomach. "Building Legos, watching old movies, eating shitty pizza, and spending hours tangled up together. Sounds like my idea of heaven." He pulls you closer to him, pressing his chest against your back. "Can you imagine it already? Us, surrounded by a pile of Legos, trying to figure out which piece goes where. Hours passing by without us realizing it because we're so lost in each other's company." He has that dreamy look in his eyes, the one that reminds you that no matter how hard the world tries to harden him, to make him bitter, that he’s still that same lost boy who craves a little bit of love.

“You’re so dorky.” You laugh softly. Jason chuckles, the sound low in his chest. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, babe." He leans in, pressing a trail of soft kisses along your jawline. "You know you love my dorky side. After all," he continues, his lips moving down to your neck, "it's the dork who puts together the best Lego sets in town. And the dork who knows how to make you giggle and moan." His hands slide under the hem of your shirt, his touch warm and possessive against your skin. "And the dork who's gonna show you how much he appreciates you when we're finally done with this car."

“Stop it.” You say playfully, giggling at his touch, your mind slowly getting distracted from the car. Jason chuckles, his lips moving back up to your ear. "Not a chance, beautiful," he mumbles, his voice a sultry whisper. "You know I love making you laugh. And I really, really love it when I can hear all the noises you make when I have you all to myself."

[nolouvreart]

Take me home where I belong I got no other place to go

[kokokoula]

HEAR ME OUT-- i headcanon that tsukishima kei has a sweet tooth, and absolutely cannot take anything bitter, mainly because his favourite food is strawberry shortcake. so here's an idea:

"i thought you'd like coffee. it's bitter and black, just like your soul." kageyama had stated bluntly one day, and hinata nodded his head in agreement. (tsukishima retorts back about something to do with a milk obsession.) it seems like a common misconception.

you ask him to check out a new cafe that's famous for their coffee with you, and even though he hates coffee with a passion, he finds himself agreeing to it. he is convinced it's because of how excited you look.

he gets a mocha, hoping the chocolate could even out the bitterness of the espresso. he stares at the black liquid in his cup and braces himself. he takes a sip of it, and still winces at the taste. you catch the scrunched up look on his face.

"is the coffee alright?" you ask, and the concern on your face made him feel bad for disliking coffee at all.

"it's fine, i'm just not a fan of coffee." he admits, but waves it off, hoping you wouldn't worry about him. he doesn't expects you to laugh, though. he raises an eyebrow. "i assumed you were the type who likes coffee, so i brought you here thinking you'd like to try. i actually prefer anything over coffee."

oh.

he lets out a small laugh of his own. "idiot," his expression is softer than his usual cold demeanor. "it's about time we ditch this place then." you two end up getting bubble tea.

also imagine you taking a sip of his drink, from the same straw he had used, and his cheeks burn. when you ask him about it, he simply turns away and denies everything. hfjdgfhihd.

[vivipoery]

Just like her.

including: angst. teeth rotting fluff with mentions of insecurities. fem!reader. soft spoken!blade. mentions of kafka.

a/n: this is my first semi serious work but i was feeling the angst and needed to write abt it. anyw hope u like it and feel free to share ur thoughts w me id appreciate it lots!!!!

Blade is a very cold person.

You knew this the moment you met yet that didn't stop your crush on him to stop blooming. You always stuck by his side despite the hardships.

Someone else has also stuck by his side, never leaving him alone to your dismay.

Kafka. The beautiful stellaron hunter and Blade's favorite colleague.

"Let's go, Bladie" She would whisper to him with a honeyed tone and he would comply quietly.

You, on the other hand, was threatened once you accidently let a "Bladie" slip from your lips and it hurt.

That only fueled the comparisons between yourself and Kafka. She was a mature and mysterious woman with an alluring aura. You were just a pawn in Elio's script, a silly girl with her heart on her sleeve.

Thoughts of her and Blade clouded your mind, she had everything you didn't have and it made your heart burn with jealousy. Oh how you wished you were Kafka.

"Are you listening to me?" Blade's sharp tone cut through your foggy mind forcing your attention back on him.

"Sorry, what were you saying?"

"You need to go fetch some supplies for Elio."

"Alright" your gaze fell to the ground, suppressing back a sigh.

"I'm driving" He stated. Another question hung heavy on your tongue yet you were afraid of saying it out loud.

Afraid of appearing weak and insecure.

"Let's go" He rushed you, making your thoughts die down as you followed him to his car without another word.

After gracefully getting into his car, you waited to see if someone else was joining you but to your surprise it was just you and Blade.

"Is Kafka not joining us this time?"

"Hm?"

You bit your lip anxiously, the metallic taste of blood seeping into your mouth.

"Never mind." You mumbled as the car engine roared to life. Blade snickered and started driving.

You leaned your weight against the door, the side of your head resting against the window as you looked out into the beautiful night sky.

Your thoughts started drifiting back to Kafka. She was never really mean to you, she helped you settle in when Elio found you.

She was never really the evil woman they made her out to be, she was kind to you. The guilt of having such negative thoughts about her was suffocating you, your heart felt stuck in your throat.

"What got you so quiet today?" Blade's voice pulling out of your thoughts once again.

"Nothing"

"You're usually so loud."

"I'm sorry" You said with a weak voice.

"What are you apologizing for?" he stopped at a red light giving him a good opportunity to turn and look at you, crimson orbs boring into your figure and you can feel the burn of his stare.

"A few things" Turning around to face him with glassy eyes, trying your best to hold back your tears.

"Care to give an example?"

"I'm sorry for liking you." He would say he's surprised but he saw the fond gazes directed at him, the sweet smiles and your blushing cheeks. He wasn't a dumbass.

Blade remained quiet.

"I'm sorry I could never be like her."

"Who are you talking about?" He asked, his usual sharp tone becoming a little softer.

You almost choked on your words. You were not brave enough to say her name to him, to show him the insecure side of you.

Shaking your head, you giggled softly and wiped your tears.

"Forget it."

The stellaron hunter remained quiet the entire ride, his eyes focused on the road and you went back to looking out the window as if nothing happened.

You arrived at your destination shortly after but before you could think about getting out of the car Blade's warm hands gripped your wrists.

Looking up at him with confusion, you tilted your head.

"Tell me." He spoke so softly to you, your heart rate picking up.

"Tell you what?" Your voice barely above a whisper, he got closer to you.

"Who's bothering you"

"N-No one really, I was being silly." Your heart was racing, you can feel the warmth radiating off his body from how close he got to you.

"Don't lie to me." Your eyes dropping to look at your shoes.

"Look at me" He added, his hands moving to your cheeks forcing you to look at him.

You felt as if your heart was about to burst from your chest.

"You" The word slipped from your lips before you could stop it.

"Me?" His grip tightened and you couldn't stop yourself anymore.

"Stupid boy, making me so sad. Why do you have to treat her differently? Why are my feelings not enough for you? I could never compete with her and you know this."

Your words came straight from your heart and they were soon followed by salty tears, soaking your cheeks and his hands.

Blade was at a loss for words. He really didn't know what to say or how to comfort you.

"She gets to call you Bladie, hold your hands and play with your hair whenever she pleases. She is the perfect one for you. Why can't I be her?"

He knew who you were talking about. No one else calls him Bladie but Kafka.

You wanted to push him away, yell at him and call him out even more but you were taken aback when Blade leaned in and placed a soft kiss against your lips.

At first you were a little stiff, taken aback but then you leaned into his touch and kissing him back.

He broke off the kiss, his crimson eyes once again holding your gaze.

"Tsk. Silly girl."

"Blade-"

"Listen to me. Why are you comparing yourself to her?"

"Because of the way you treat me and her." You said with a shaky voice.

"Does she help me after mission? Does she take care of my wounds and bandages? Does she get to comb and braid my hair out of boredom? Does she get to hold my hand out in missions?"

You were left speechless.

"You are the warmth I constantly seek. You are my anchor" The way he kept speaking softly to you made you tear up once again.

"I'm sorry" He leaned towards you, resting his forehead against your own.

"I like you too" You gasped.

"Blade-" Your hands coming up to rest against his own who were still cupping your cheeks warmly.

"Will you be mine?"

"Yes. Always has been"

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