#i just think satoru gojo…

[planetnini]

KISS IT BETTER!

gojo satoru who refuses to sleep unless you’re in bed next to him + fem!reader. this started off so sweet and fluffy but my brain decided to take this another route (it’s very suggestive; i don’t go into it too much).. also the petname baby is used… it’s gross but i couldn’t help it… not proofread, sorry for any mistakes!!

you let out an exhale rubbing your eyes as you let out a yawn. your eyes moving to the figure sprawled out over the couch by your side, a sleeping satoru.

you chuckle to yourself as you adjust yourself and lean over the couch a bit. satoru had made it clear that he would not go to bed unless you were there next to him but because you’d been caught up in a report, he took his solace in the sofa next to you.

satoru had been doing this for a while… reading every now and then or watching something while waiting for you. usually you wouldn’t take any longer than a couple of minutes doing your own thing but this time it was different and it seems that satoru had finally cracked and fallen asleep despite his promise.

you brush a hand through his soft snowy hair as you observe his breathing. you didn’t care that he broke his promise, it was great seeing him so quiet as you carded your hand through his hair. you didn’t know how you got so lucky with such an amazing partner.

“you’re being a creepy weirdo with your staring.”

you were going to pull your hand away but you decided to keep it there, brushing his hair down to fix his bangs as his eyes were still closed.

“you’re awake…” you hummed with a small smile.

he exhaled, “i was never asleep.” he explained as he opened his eyes and looked over at you. just as beautiful as the first day he saw you.

“i like your hair down baby.” you mumbled, voice tired and kinda sexy (well at least to gojo).

“please… don’t talk to me like that.” he groaned as he brought a hand over to caress your cheek.

“sorry for keeping you up.” you said as you lean into his touch, his fingers moving side by side as he continues to observe you.

“don’t ever apologise for something so stupid.” he replied as he started to sit up from his spot yawning a little, stretching before watching you get up.

“you had a long day toru, let’s go to bed.” you held your hand out to him as you pulled him up from his spot.

“you’re not tired right?” he questioned as he looked over his shoulder at you as you walked to the bathroom.

“hm?” you hum, a little confused at why he was asking that. you continued the routine to brush your teeth as you stared at satoru who was leaned against the doorframe with a small smirk, “why are you being like that?” you mumbled with the toothbrush still in your mouth as you finished brushing. he just shrugged and you squint at him before flossing. you wanted nothing more than to go to bed.

“no skincare?” he posed the question as you turned off the bathroom light, following you back into your bedroom as you closed the door to your shared bedroom.

“too tired.” you yawn as you rub your eyes looking at the dim lighting in your room, you couldn’t wait to jump into bed and sleep forever.

“my girl is tired?” he cooed, backing your figure up against the door, his hand adorned your waist as he caressed your cheek with his other hand. his fingers interlacing with your hair as he looked down at you giving you a look you were all too familiar with.

“satoru-”

“you talk a lot,” his hand are warm, soothing as he moves it down to either side of your body, trapping you. his eyes are locked with yours and he leans just a little bit closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “let me take care of you.”

his warm breath against your ear is transferred to your cheek as his plush lips peck feather light kisses down around your neck. you struggle to keep the noise to a minimum as your hands move up from his biceps to his nape.

you can feel his body heat. the smell of his expensive fragrance mixed with yours filling the air as he nips at your neck slightly. you feel your heart beating irregularly, a flutter of emotions racing through you as you moan lightly.

he pulls himself away from your neck meeting your gaze with a small smirk, his eyes locking onto yours. a second or two of silence as he just observed your state, before leaning toward your lips.

you close your eyes as he wrapped his arms around your waist- those strong, muscular arms- as your mouth meets his. your hands that were on his nape now dangles around his neck, resting on his mid back and you can feel satoru’s fingers move through your hair.

despite being with him for years now, he still kissed you with so much passion… his lips are warm, sensual and you can feel his tongue, his breath, his desire and it feels amazing, so you kiss him back harder.

he smiles into the kiss and he finally pulls away from you, both breathless, “still tired?” he said and it makes your legs weak.

“shut up.” you declared, pulling him back onto your lips giving him another kiss as his hands move down to caress your thigh and then he rests his hand at your waist, his grip tight. his touch feels like electric in your state as he suddenly brings it up to your face to kiss you more and more. he tilts his head a little giving him a bit more entrance as he slips his tongue in. you’re moaning and groaning into his lips and satoru is turned on to the max. shit….

you feel yourself moving from the wall and onto the soft mattress finally being pulled from the kiss. both of your lips were swollen but your brain only craved more, “fuck. you just looked so good in my shirt.” he panted as he looked down at you.

“i bet i’d look even better without it.” you tease him and his eyes shine with lust at the comment.

“oh, i know baby,” he whispered as he presses a kiss on your thigh. his hands inch from the bottom of his shirt that you’re wearing and moves it up slowly, pulling the shirt over your head. he looks at your bare chest and takes a moment before speaking, “you are so fucking gorgeous.”

“today satoru…” you whined, a little embarrassed at his staring.

he leans down kissing you once more before pulling off his own shirt. you hands trails his abs and he looks down at you, sprawled underneath him and he wants to have you so badly.

“sorry,” he said, “they say you eat with your eyes first.” he smiled.

if you weren’t tired before, you certainly would be after tonight but it was the perfect way to end the night.

satoru would be asleep next to you, just as he intended.

tags! @stsgluver <3

have fun with this one ;)

[yuutaguro]

in anticipation for his birthday, here’s the one i made 3 years ago 🎂

[hinamie]

I don't want to regret the way I lived

[doodoodinklefart]

pov fallin in love w ur homie cuz he's so pretty all of a sudden?!?!

[ohimsummer]

satoru gojo is tall, charming, powerful, radiating a commanding aura to both sorcerers and non-sorcerers alike. his presence demands attention, something he never has to struggle hard for. everyone around him usually grows intimidated just from him being in the vicinity—they get sweaty, they get nervous, they get shy. but not him. he’s not familiar with such emotions. satoru gojo has never been flustered…not until you, anyway.

he’s stuttered twice: once out of nervousness and the other out of pure shock. you didn’t even react to his first blunder, and that throws gojo off just a little more. he’s the strongest. he doesn’t make mistakes, doesn’t fumble over his words. satoru is about as perfect as perfect can get. and yet, here he is, tongue tied and twisted in knots all because…you’re looking at him?

this isn’t new. it’s not like he’s never been looked at before. quite the opposite, in fact. but this isn’t like the usual irate glances or idolizing, heart-eyed stares he gets from everyone else. you’re actually looking at him like a person, and paying attention on top of that.

ever since satoru began talking, you’ve hung on to every word he’s spoke, nodding along and interjecting with relevant dialogue. complimenting him, asking related questions, brows raising in surprise or intrigue when he says something you find interesting. despite this all being the usual bells and whistles of a normal conversation, satoru can’t help but feel a foreign pounding in his chest. he’s never experienced anything like this. not for a long while, anyway.

it’s not just the thudding behind his ribcage, but this sincere action of being seen. everyone else either looks through gojo, or over him, or away from him entirely and try not to acknowledge him at all, as if suffering through his company. but you, you’re actually looking at satoru, right in his face. dare he say, straight through his blindfold and into the azure blues underneath, as if it isn’t even there.

he has his silly suspicions that maybe you are looking through his blindfold. satoru considers that maybe you have some special power or technique to look through the fabric, but quickly squashes the nonsensical idea and decides instead that he’s just overthinking. and that conclusion flusters him even more.

the realization that you are actually interacting with him and listening to him….it’s not just going into one ear and out the other, or flying over your head as you pretend to listen and instead ogle the pretty features on his face. you’re…interested? in what he has to say? it almost seems implausible, but here you are, clinging to his every word and indulging in conversation with him. no restless fidgeting as you wait for it to end, nor a poorly concealed look of impatience as you pray for him to finally shut up.

you genuinely seem content in sitting here and letting satoru talk your ears off. like you’re enjoying it. and satoru is giddy at this realization, this epiphany that someone actually, truly enjoys his company. he thinks it feels…

it feels nice.

🩵: @anthoosies @staryukis @deepenthevoid @bubblez-blop @luvvmae @risuola @bunnymacaron @gigiiiiislife @domainexpansionmypants @starlightanyaaa @satoruxsc @cinnamoneve @lxnarphase @hellkaiserinphoenix @sherb3t @jianyuu4mii @xinfvl @blindbabycadder @kisstoru @the-monster-under-the-bed @manyno @sugu-love @leilalilox @sataraxia @apatauaia @luvvforliaa @purplegemadventures @v0ctin @kissesfrombelle @babytoshiii @biscuitsngravie

[teddybeartoji]

hands gripping your hips, eyebrows pinched together and parted lips; his cheeks are flushed, his eyes lidded as he watches you eagerly grind yourself back and forth on his lap. "fuck... y'gonna cum on my lap, pretty?"

smug, he sounds so smug. he loves having you on him, he loves seeing you like this. all pliant under his touch, rocking into him with every breath you take. you look so beautiful; already so fucked out, begging for more. so he can't help but tease a little, to push your buttons because oh, how he loves to watch you unravel for him—

"y'gonna make me cum on your lap, handsome?"

the air around you gets thicker, his grip on you stronger – you look at him with your lip caught between your teeth, a small smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. his eyes darken as he let's out a deep groan, shifting his hips under you so you can feel his clothed cock a little better. so you can feel what you're doing to him.

you tug at his hair, tempting him. pushing his buttons just the way he likes.

"oh c'mon, i know y'wanna make me feel good..."

[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.

[planetsandmagic]

"choose your words wisely"

[sanatomis]

cw. none, except for satoru being disgustingly cute.

to outsiders, your relationship with satoru is as much a blessing as it is a curse. it’s a blessing, because even your mere presence causes satoru’s talking to drop by a hefty 80% at the very least. it’s a curse, because satoru only stops his chattering to cling to you.

he wraps his arms around your waist, and nuzzles into the crook of your neck. he holds your hands, and cups his own face with them. he tucks your hair behind your ear and squeezes your cheeks together. he’s so utterly enamoured with you, that words suddenly feel unnecessary. and you let him be.

it’s his way of recharging, of finding little bits of peace in a stressful day. so, you allow him to do as he wishes, and simply continue whatever conversation you are having—as if satoru wasn’t currently biting your finger. you dismiss the looks of disgust people throw at him, finding the way he clings to you like a baby koala oddly endearing.

it’s a custom, by now. a custom that’s loved by the both of you, and only the both of you. so, yes—a blessing and a curse. satoru is quieter when you’re around, but in exchange for a (not so) healthy dose of pda.

pick your poison, as one would say.

[delzinrowe]

incorrect jjk quotes [33/?]

[elsecrytt]

okay but jjk somnophilia is like

gojo "please please pleaaaaase let me put it in while you're sleeping PLEASE i swear i'll make you cum i proooomise please let's try it once pleeaaase. YOU can put it in ME whenever you want!!! any time any place anything you want in any of my holes!! wake me up with it!! it'll be soooo hot" satoru

vs

nanami "i have kink charts for both of us and they have sliding scales and notes section for each one. we can mark hard boundaries for what state of consciousness we want for ourselves or our partners, giving or receiving, what sex acts, etc. we'll set up a safe word and a safe gesture and then we can start trying things out" kento

vs

geto "sorry i fell asleep while eating you out, it will happen again. no, i won't stop eating you out when i fall unconscious. just tear me off your pussy if you don't like it" suguru

[malebreastmilk]

how gojo would sleep with you imagine(?)!!!

Gojo ♡ Greedy ♡sleepy!gojo who is actually a bit nervous the first few times you cuddle despite his usually confident exterior, short glances trying to gauge if you’re comfortable with being so close with him like this, reassure him and watch the way his eyes light up ♡sleepy!gojo letting out fake and obnoxious yawns, throwing you fake frowns as if he was the saddest puppy in the world until you finally concede to his attempts at getting your attention, don’t expect to be moving once you’re next to him, he’s tangling his lanky build around you holding you tightly… he can’t lose you

♡sleepy!gojo SNORING like the perfect prince he is! denies that he snores if you mention it, he feels safe with you that’s all, he lets his guard down, he lets himself live, hold him while cuddling and watch him melt in your arms, blush painting his face pink, he’ll hold your hand with his and squeeze it, he’s eternally grateful

♡sleepy!gojo always ending up with all the blankets leaving you with nothing but him, not even anything you sleep with is safe…if you sleep with stuffed animals? across the room on the floor, he punches them when you aren't looking too! pillows? his side or also on the floor! despite that he’ll litter you with kisses when he wakes calling you all yours and his favorite pet names

“Goooooood morning my sleepyhead~! Are you ready for your morning kisses, because I know I’m ready for mine!”

[yuwuta]

olympics coming up…… athlete aus on the mind….. satoru as a swimmer….. unreasonably large wingspan…. huge hands..... thinks “official” competitions and tournaments are boring because he can’t use the goofy purple googly eyes goggles he likes to practice in…… practices at ungodly hours solely because he likes when the pool is empty because that means you’ll dip your feet in at the edge and be there to greet him with a kiss when he’s finished his laps….. they bring up the stats board and it’s just his name ten times before the next fastest person and he could still lap them, and even tho he’ll always put so much pressure on himself to be the best, it’s worth it to have you hold his face and tell him you’re proud of him... he’s gotten so much merch from events and sponsorships and he used to think they just created clutter but that all changes when you start to wear his clothes (esp the ones with his name on it… he’s not proud to admit that does Something to him)…. always looks up to the stands when he finishes a race and if he knows you’re not there, he looks right at the camera, draws an infinity sign with his fingers, and blows a kiss (which, some commentators routinely call “unsportsmanlike conduct” but he doesn’t care, and always, publicly says he’ll pay the fees if it means blowing a kiss to his girl at home)

[hinamie]

spiraling

[arminsumi]

Gojo Satoru running in a downpour just to give you an umbrella

💗 さとる

Note : u know like in the s2 ending. it's 4:30 am the birds are chirping n here i am... writing cheesy gojo fluff lol. ignore errors... i'm sleep deprived 😭✌️

"Satoru... did you run all this way... in the rain?"

He's panting and desperately trying to catch his breath, bearing a half-smile at you. His uniform is completely soaked through. His shoes are leaky and his socks are squelchy with rainwater. His hair is completely flat-wet. Water drips off the ends of strands.

You and him are under the highway bridge, it shields you from the torrential rain, which he just rain through all the way from Jujutsu High.

"Y-yeah... well... only because y–you texted me saying... that you didn't... have an umbrella. So." he huffs, a rivulet of water dripping off his pointy chin.

You squint at him in disbelief. It's so funny.

This boy. This poor teenage boy. With noodly arms and legs and a poor posture. Just ran all this way here. To give you an umbrella.

Just to give you a damn umbrella.

"You're nuts."

He makes a smile at that. "I'm flattered you think so highly of me, Y/n."

A long silence passes.

He sucks in a breath and makes a sideways look.

"Uh... sooo... do I get like... a cheek kiss for this, or something? Maybe? ... please? No? Yes? Or an appreciative "thank you, 'Toru you're my knight in shining armour!" maybe? How about a—"

"No." you tease.

"Aw dang, I'll just go fuck myself then. We're divorcing. And I'm taking custody of the umbrella." He jokes.

He bends his back and knees to lower himself to your height, so he can make sure you get your share of cover under the transparent umbrella. You give him a sudden cheek kiss once he's lowered himself enough to be reachable for your lips.

He malfunctions. His brain has to actively register what just happened to his body. And then once it realizes he's just received a cheek kiss, his whole face starts to glow. His whole body freezes up.

He blushes boyishly. Because of course he would, he's just been kissed by his 3-year crush best friend.

But then he reassumes his annoying Gojo Satoru persona within a minute.

"Awww... you must like me."

"Shut up. And stop crouching like that. You'll scare a child."

"My future wife is so mean to me...! 😩"

"I'm not your "future wife", Satoru."

He sticks his tongue out at you. But then his playful tone suddenly drops. He looks at you. And he earnestly says;

"I will make sure that you are. No matter what... I wanna be yours."

[ohimsummer]

satoru being one of those kids who was picked on and embarrassed with those cruel jokes. the “so and so likes you/wants to be friends with you” ones, and when he goes up to them all excited like “wow new friend!!” they just end up embarrassing him in front of everyone because “why would i like you? or want to be friends with you? you’re super weird.” the entire class is laughing at him. he’s humiliated.

and now, as an adult, satoru struggles with telling when someone is being genuine to him. not many are, most people don’t care to be around him which hurts in and of itself, but it hurts even worse when they pretend to like him only to end up betraying or disappointing him later. so when you come along, and he watches you approach him every day with a big smile and try and talk to him and you ask him if he wants to grab lunch together or hang out, satoru prepares himself for the worst.

he tries not to let himself get attached to you, and your friendly face, and the way you laugh at him because no one has ever laughed with him before, and those knowing stares you always give because satoru just knows one of these days you’re going to grow bored and leave him like everyone else has.

he keeps himself stuck in a constant state of denial, not realizing that your actions are indeed genuine and your motives are pure.