#Maybe im not where i should be

[moonilit]

sometimes reading Kory’s talk about love and how her culture normalizes poly relationships and love is separate from marriage as in yeah sometimes you marry for politics but doesn’t mean you ‘love’ that other person or they you and thats OK is so weird because, you don’t even need to go to space for that?? Its already somewhere on earth??

[xoxojisu]

thinking abt unofficialbf!katsuki

unofficialbf!katsuki who's abrasive and rude and loud until you're near him. he almost instantly sizzles down

unofficialbf!katsuki who proudly declared you as "his" when you were 4 after you accepted his bouquet of dandelions and its kind of just stuck since then

unofficialbf!katsuki who, after that, began proudly holding your hand and marching around with you. at some point, it just became a habit for him to reach for your hand, continuing even as you got older

unofficialbf!katsuki who still apologizes to you the same way as when you two were kids. he holds your hand and looks away as he mutters "'m sorry.." with rosy cheeks. when he really messes up, he'll bury his nose into your neck and hold you close and whisper a genuine apology into your ear. he'll struggle for the right words and get super flustered, but you know hes trying!!

unofficialbf!katsuki who, for as long as izuku could remember, has been a package deal with you

unofficialbf!katsuki who is practically inseparable from you. like youre not hugging in class or anything but theres just this unnecessary proximity with you guys? you're always just unexplainably close for no reason

unofficialbf!katsuki who carries your bag everywhere. he complains that you "can't even carry your own damn bags!!" but would never let you carry them

unofficialbf!katsuki! who beats his friends up for being stupid when they don’t understand something he’s teaching them, but is so gentle when teaching you. he gets real close and talks in this low rumbly voice that’s just SO HOT

unofficialbf!katsuki whos an asshole to everyone but you

unofficialbf!katsuki who, despite being unnaturally nice to you and finds it hard to be/stay mad at you, gets really genuinely angry when you get reckless when fighting. the only times hes ever really yelled at you for real were when you put yourself in danger

unofficialbf!katsuki who doesnt care if mineta and kaminari ogle the other girls but would blow them up if they so much as laid an eye on you

unofficialbf!katsuki who tries to hide the way his eyes soften whenever you talk

unofficialbf!katsuki who, due to your childhood marriage/relationship/idk-its-complicated, is really comfortable with touching you. he would never let any of those other extras touch him, but he never hesitates to grasp your hand when you're scared, grab your waist to pull you in when he just wants you closer, or even pull you into his lap (in private) to cuddle. he has no problem manhandling you and throwing you over his shoulder or even carrying you bride-style when he's reaaally feeling confident. when you sit next to each other, his hands easily find your thigh almost subconsciously to rub his thumb over it soothingly

unofficialbf!katsuki who you've been having tickle fights with since you were little! he would never DARE hit you like he would those other losers, so he tickles you when he thinks you're being annoying. he knows all of your ticklish spots and still uses it against you when he thinks you're being bratty (or when he just wants to hear you laugh, but he'd die before he admits it)

unofficialbf!katsuki who LOVES cuddling with you! (would never admit it) you get all loud and fussy sometimes (no one is allowed to sass him other than you) so he just pulls you close to his chest and drags his fingertips up and down your back in the way he knows you like. he loves how it gets you all quiet and sleepy and clingy in a matter of minutes. he wonders if you notice the way that after just a couple minutes, your speech starts to slur and you bury your face into his chest or neck. (he does. he notices.)

unofficialbf!katsuki who you've been cuddling since you were kids so it just sort of continued as you two got older? you've known him for forever, so it never felt weird or anything. its just oddly natural? mitsuki has photos of you two cuddling from ages like 4-now.

speaking of mitsuki!! she absolutely ADORES you and unofficialbf!katsuki HATES it! he always mutters about how she likes you more than him whenever you come over, which is like everyday, which she always affirms happily. calls you "my sweet y/n-chan," "sweetheart," "dear," "lovely," and of course "my future daughter-in-law." (katsuki always tells her to "SHUT UP, OLD HAG" with bright red cheeks)

unofficialbf!katsuki whose grumpy moods and grumbles are easily halted by you running your hands through his blond spikes, which always turns him into putty in your hands

unofficialbf!katsuki who always has you in his dorm. he has this thing about nobody, not sero or denki or even kirishima being allowed in his bed when they hangout, but he lets you with no problem. in fact, he's the one who drags you into his bed with him.

unofficialbf!katsuki whose classmates have literally placed bets on when his balls will drop and he'll make you his official girlfriend (he cursed them out and blew stuff up when he found out)

can you tell im a sucker for the just friends/unofficial bf trope...

[heartorbit]

find another role, carry on the show

[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.

[ofswordsandpens]

adding to the "there should have been more genuine tension within the seven" train of thought, it would have been funny if the Argo II, technically being a ship, meant it fell under Percy's power domain and he could control it all at whim, rendering all the carefully crafted controls Leo built useless if Percy felt like being an asshole

[pup-pee]

this was supposed 2 b a quick doodle

but buzzcut cassie would just not let me go

[corviiids]

(more persona 5 / persona 5 royal spoilers again)

(this one has art by dotdotdotukno on twitter please view)

compilation of specifically my obsession with ryuji and goro being terrible... friends??

[kenchann]

continued watching one piece recently 👒🕒

[sleepysundial]

"Aw, quit your belly-aching. Hands grow back!"

something about mad scientists and their big strong boyfriends idk.

[knockknockitsnickels]

I think this is one of my favorite lines from the Wraith route because of (imo) how much the meaning changes depending on if you got there via Spectre or Nightmare. For Spectre, it honestly strikes me as a genuine question. Why are you doing this to her? If you're on the Spectre route, you presumably already know the Narrator can't really be trusted, since you had to reject his reward to get here. What are you hoping to gain from continuing to hurt her? For Nightmare, it honestly just makes me sad. As the Shifting Mound describes her, "She desires only companionship, but the only thing she knows is how to hurt." This line feels like a plea from someone who genuinely doesn't understand why you keep rejecting her. She wants to be with you, but she just can't understand how to do that in a way which doesn't hurt you.

[sengenism]

The Ishigamis and The Gifts of Science

Dr. Stone is a love letter to humanity and its sciences. The main character, Senku, often acts averse to all forms of affection, and the only love he doesn't deny is his love for science. But Senku is so so full of love. He just expresses it in a way other than physical touch or words of affirmation. He gives.

But let's go back to the one who taught him so– Byakuya Ishigami, his father. The love of Senku's life.

Byakuya is introduced in the tenth chapter of the manga as a dotting father who sells his car to present Senku with scientific instruments he will need for a more efficient research. This car is Byakuya's means of transportation, and given that he is crying and shaking in this scene, it could not have been easy for him to lose it. But his love for Senku is so big, that he wants to support his son's passion even if it means sacrificing a great convenience for him.

And Senku? Senku truly fell in love with science at this moment.

If there is anything that Senku is, he is Byakuya Ishigami's son through and through. They may seem like two very different people, as Byakuya is an openly affectionate guy while Senku is more closed off with showing his true emotions. But Senku takes more from Byakuya than not, and one of them is by showing his love and/or care for others through giving the gifts of science.

And it starts with Byakuya.

[Bodysuit Acquired!]

Byakuya had failed his first attempt at being an astronaut ten years back, but he doesn't give up and tries again. Senku then creates a bodysuit that manipulates muscle movement to help Byakuya pass his swimming test. And while the bodysuit doesn't quite help Byakuya to swim, the thought Senku had put into it had motivated Byakuya more than ever to pass the test. This is one of the fundamentals of gifting– sometimes, it really is the thought behind it that matters.

This motivation is what Byakuya credits during his interview with JAXA for passing the tests. He understands that Senku might not have given him any words of encouragement, but this bodysuit was all the words that were needed between them. Senku wants Byakuya to achieve his dreams just as badly. It's the way Senku shows his love for his father.

And it's the way Senku shows his love for others too.

[Glasses Acquired!]

One of the primitive aspects of the Ishigami village is that it considers bad eyesight as a type of "disease". Fuzzy disease, to be exact.

Suika wears a melon mask at all times to help clear her eyesight, which Senku later reveals is due to the pinhole effect. She, however, has never told Senku or the others about having the fuzzy disease. Senku himself notes how odd it is for her to wear a melon around, and confronts her about it once he decides to create glass. This is one of the most beautiful scenes in Dr. Stone, as Suika finds out that her disease was never a disease, and is finally able to see as clearly as the others. Senku basically gives her perfect eyesight, something she didn't even know was possible before.

[Antibiotics Acquired!]

One of the most beloved people in this village is the priestess, Ruri. Two of Senku's new friends, Kohaku and Chrome are deeply affected by her unknown fatal disease. Senku is such a person who would help a stranger even if there is no benefit to do so (though he would never admit to it), what more a person who his new friends truly love and care about. He cures Ruri of pneumonia, giving her a chance to live a life without the worry of it being her last day every day.

[Cola Acquired!]

Senku forms an alliance with Gen, who plays the role of Tsukasa's spy, for the promise of a bottle of cola. Both Senku and Gen are aware that the cola is only a front for Gen's loyalty to Senku and the Kingdom of Science, for Gen needs his superficial reputation as a comfort and cannot simply join them if there is no personal benefit for him to do so.

This cola is also the first gift post-petrification that Senku brands himself on, probably because it represents the first gift that is not out of necessity and leans toward a comfort/luxury that they both used to enjoy in the modern world.

For a modern man such as Gen, drinking his favourite soda in the stone world might have been one of the happiest days in his life.

[Cotton Candy Acquired!]

Senku cares about people so much, even if the people in question have tried to kill him. Senku sees Homura as a soldier who is merely following the orders given by her leader, but he also sees the Homura as a lonesome girl sitting by herself on trees day and night.

As usual, Senku hides his kindness and care by showing an evil ulterior motive, such as turning Homura to their side using the cotton candy, but Ruri points out that this is a facade. Similarly to Gen, a person with such an ego is unable to seem as if he is doing something good out of the kindness of his heart.

[Stove Acquired!]

As winter approaches, the elders in the village are worried about losing people to the cold. Senku hears about this and creates a stove which has a multi-purpose of cooking and also radiating heat for the people to stave off the coldness of winter. And speaking of winter...

[Christmas Acquired!]

Senku hangs up lights in the tree for the "light bulb test" on a random night. Except the date isn't random at all and he drops enough hints for Gen to catch on that it is the night of Christmas. The significance of the day is only appreciated by Gen and himself, as they are the only modern timers in the village. It is for the sake of nostalgia, but Senku would rather be caught dead than admit that he is a sentimental guy with such irrational feelings.

And well, it all comes back to that scene with Byakuya, doesn't it? If you recall, Byakuya calls himself "Santa" while giving the scientific presents to the young Senku. This indicates Senku received them during Christmas. Which means... Christmas is a sentimental day to Senku and his father. An anniversary of Senku receiving his Christmas presents from Byakuya, which led to his deeper dive into his science obsession. The beginning of it all, one would say.

And even though he's dead and buried, Byakuya never stops giving. He gives Senku the Ishigami village to provide Senku with allies. He gives Senku Lillian's music, because he believes in the light of music and understands the importance of media to society. He collects platinum till his last breath, because he believes that Senku will need it someday. Byakuya keeps on giving to Senku, because his love for his son is so huge and unconditional. And because he promised.

Surely, there is no greater love in the manga than Byakuya's love for his son and Senku's love for his father. Byakuya could easily win ten billion best father awards... well, not like there's much competition for that in shounen mangas.

[gingerswagfreckles]

Like if you have a problem with the concept of deportation as a whole or a problem with the fact that you don't usually need a jury to agree to a conviction to be deported (just a judge.) And that's really the only issue here. Wouldn't it make more sense to champion one of the like million and a half 5 year olds arrested at school forced to go to deportation hearings without their parents? Who are then deported after having no idea what just happened? Rather than a leader of an organization who's stated goal is the "total eradication of Western Civilization" through violence and that organized a day of mourning for Sinwar?? Perhaps??

Or maybe this is all happening for the reasons that gentiles repeatedly scream in our faces, which is that they just don't think murdering Jewish civilians should be considered terrorism? And maybe we have to look honestly at our instinct as Jews to defend this behavior as soon as there are consequences for it, like maybe we still think that if we let antisemites harrass us enough, they will stop short of killing us?

[hoshinasblade]

What you think Soshiro would do if he found out his gf was insecure about her stretch marks?

this is one of the most recent asks so thank u anon for sending!! im still in the process of going over my posts and editing some stuff (mostly changing my tags lol) and answering asks and putting them on queue. i just really like this one so im posting now (might have some typos as im in my phone hoho). hope u guys like it 🥰

"i don't know," you said as you try to bury your face on the big mug of beer you are drinking. "i haven't even been naked around him, like ever." the last sentence was almost a whisper, as if you were saying it to yourself more than confessing it to your nosy friend.

"aren't you guys dating for months now?" you were expecting this response, sure, but you don't think you were prepared for an answer at all. "honestly girl, your man is like, really hot," your friend picked up a french fry from the plate in front of you and took a bite before speaking again. "if that was me, i would be naked with him 25 hours a day."

"we only have 24 hours a day," you reminder her.

"exactly," she winked at you in response.

you did not want to admit it but your friend, a college batchmate from way back, was not entirely wrong. landing a guy like vice-captain hoshina soshiro was never in your bingo card, and truthfully, had it been another girl that he chose to date, you are pretty sure he would be getting some action.

yes, action meaning naked time.

sex.

it was not that you are a prude, or worse, a conservative who thinks that women are ought to be virgins otherwise they are worthless. and it wasn't also that you haven't done some things with your boyfriend hoshina as well, considering how you are very much aware how he's so good with his hands. no, the issue is that except for that one time during your fourth month together when it almost happened, you have not gone all the way with hoshina at all.

you simply attributed it to him being a gentleman, but hoshina did not dare ask when you stopped him that one time. but you should have known that at some point, he is going to want to know why it seems you don't want to be intimate with him.

"is it me?" he asked, trying to hide the slight hurt from his face. "i don't have bad breath, do i?"

count on hoshina to crack a joke during such a serious situation. he just got home from his scheduled weekend duty that night, and although claiming that he's exhausted from work, hoshina was apparently not tired enough. so a chaste peck on your lips turned to a heated makeout session that turned to him taking his shirt off.

he was kissing the soft skin down your neck towards your chest when you froze just as he was about to take your blouse off.

"come on, talk to me." hoshina's voice was gentle, and an annoying voice inside your head murmured something along the lines of how he deserves someone better, with how you're acting right now. "hey, it's okay if you don't want to talk about it. i don't mind. but if something's wrong, i'd prefer if i know about it."

you sighed. hoshina doesn't necessarily deserve someone better; he just deserves the truth.

instead of telling the truth, you showed it to him.

as soon your top was off, your fingers started tracing the thin, white lines on the skin near your ribs. these lines look like thread that stretch to your sides. you even have some close to your inner arms. you were avoiding hoshina's eyes when you pointed out how these stretch marks extend until your hips.

"i think i just feel weird about other people seeing it," you said. "i mean, they don't look pretty."

now that you've said your piece, you felt a bit relieved. in reality you know it sounds so shallow, superficial even. but as a girl - as a woman - you were no stranger to other people's expectations of how you should physically look. in the end, perhaps you just did not want to disappoint hoshina by showing him just how imperfect you are.

you were surprised when hoshina unbuckled his belt and began undoing the buttons of his pants. mouth agape, you just did not foresee this reaction.

"w-what are you doing?"

hoshina stripped until he was only on his boxers. stretching one of his legs out in front of you, his hand slowly lifted the hem of his underwear until you can see the flesh of his upper thighs.

"oh i have those too," he said, showing you white, indented streaks up to his hips. "i think you get them when you grow, i'm not hundred percent sure."

hoshina's forefinger continued trailing on his own skin. "it's okay if you don't think they're pretty, you know. not everything has to be beautiful. what you have to remember is that having stuff like this, is completely normal."

you should have known because it was after all the reason you love him - everyone might admire vice-captain hoshina soshiro mainly because of his leadership skills and out-of-this-world physique, you fell for him because he's the most reasonable and kind man you have ever met.

"i love you, you know that right?" you asked.

hoshina could only chuckle. "and all these time i was worrying you didn't want to be naked with me because you were hiding a tattoo of narumi's face somewhere there."

it was your turn to laugh. hoshina grabbed one of your hands, caressing it. "hey look, it's just skin, okay? it's just skin but it's still you." looking right at you, hoshina smiled. "it's still you, and i love you."

[xxplastic-cubexx]

i didnt plan to spend my sunday this way

[styxxsyringe]

splatoon twt just dropped this what the fuck?!?!!?!!!!!

[corviiids]

what if mlp au light doesn't get his cutie mark until after he's killed pony L and then his cutie mark becomes L's symbol to symbolise what L's defeat means to his fate and identity and everyone's like wow pony light your fate is to become the second L and succeed L to continue his legacy :) and pony light (pony) is like yes >:) (evil pony expression) (on his pony face) (because it's a my little pony au)