#makes for some good fluff!

[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.

[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)

[sensitiveheartless]

[aiuredsworld]

So they said Harry and Draco went to Hogsmeade tgt huh🤨?

[nuppu-nuppu]

give Megumi his dad back

[bisepunk]

So… while finishing some stsg pieces for a zine, I’m also working on some Wind Breaker stickers/keychains if anyone’s interested 👀

What do you think about white wolf Ume and surly cat Sakura?

Would you like to see the rest of the pack?

[fanfic-gremlin-ft-trauma]

something something making an item of betrothal in ur bfs culture

[catscidr]

cw: emetophobia. mentionned panic attack and intercourse. fluff. hurt/comfort. f!reader. not proofread

“Suguru, can you heat up my microwavable pad?”

“Sugu, can you get me some hair clips?”

“Sugu, can I have water?”

You thought you had it under control; being no stranger to bouts of panic and random waves of nausea, you’ve mastered the art of taking deep breaths and reassuring yourself that the nauseous feeling will eventually pass.

But, as strong as you are, everyone has moments of weakness.

After finally deciding to bite the bullet, you were able to contact a doctor to get a prescription for birth control. From painful period cramps to not wanting to have sex with a condom every time you and Suguru got under the sheets, it felt like the next step to take for your health. You wanted your birth control to help alleviate the cramps that left you bedridden for days and wanted to be able to be intimate with your boyfriend without the stress of possible pregnancy.

All things considered, it’s not like you were completely unaware of the possible side effects of birth control—the infamous pamphlet that could serve as a blanket is pretty hard to miss when you first unbox your prescription.

You’ve spoken to your girlfriends about how nervous you were to start birth control, and they were all as understanding and sweet as one would expect.

After a short pep talk with yourself and your bathroom mirror, you put the patch on your arm and were officially part of the twinkie crew, formerly a toaster strudel.

…in a couple of days. Your doctor informed you to avoid having intercourse without protection for at least five days to let your body acclimate itself to the hormones flowing through you thanks to the patch on your arm.

So now, instead of having a productive afternoon, you’re sat on the cold wooden floor of your bedroom with an empty bucket across of you alongside a cardboard box you meant to throw out that now serves as a makeshift table.

“Here you are, darling.” Suguru places the glass of water on your ‘table’, silently watching how you’re holding up. His gaze lingers on the small patch on your arm, anger boiling in his gut because how dare this piece of rubber hurt my girlfriend like this, but he holds off on removing your source of pain directly knowing that it'd do more harm than good. “How do you feel now?”

You can sense his eyes on you, but you feel so ashamed of yourself for being so panicky over vomiting that you refuse to sit up from your position, all hunched over your plastic emotional support bucket. “Still gross. M’ face feels... tingly.”

He crouches beside you, gently rubbing your back to soothe you. “Do you need me to get you anything else?”

You shake your head after a second of thought, busy focusing on your self-acupuncture massage on the insides of your wrists to think of whatever else could aid your discomfort.

Observing you, Suguru sighs lightly. He sits down on the ground properly and takes ahold of one of your arms himself to replace your thumb with his. Rubbing gentle but firm circles into your tendon, he applies light pressure, and watches your brows furrow in discomfort then relax ever so slightly.

“Focus on calming your heart rate, baby. Can you do that for me? Deep breaths,” he hums softly. Nodding weakly, you try to inhale slowly but a wave of nausea hits you. Your forehead bonks the edge of the bucket and you begin to—almost—hyperventilate.

Your face feels hot, you feel pressure building up your throat and you're shaking like a leaf. “Don’t look at me,” you whimper, weakly pushing Suguru’s face to look off to the side. He ignores your plea and brushes a stray lock of hair away from your face, gently tucking it behind your ear.

“You’re okay,” he muses. “This’ll pass like it always has. The nausea you feel isn’t any different from other times you’ve felt like throwing up; you always ended up fine.“ Suguru stops massaging your arm and places his hand on your cheek. You lean into him, feeling a wave of comfort come from your chest as you keen at the cold touch of his palm.

The corners of his lips curl upward. “Can you swallow?” he asks, bending down to take a proper look at your face.

You try, straightening your back and taking a deep breath before swallowing your saliva. Suguru hums, whispering a quiet good, relieved that you're able to cooperate.

“You know, my mom used to tell me that, if I ever felt nauseous, I should try swallowing. If I was physically able to swallow, then I would be fine.” He rubs his thumb over the apples of your cheek gently, watching your eyes crack open. “There’s my girl,” he hums with a smile.

Nuzzling into his palm, you groan quietly. "Don't look at me, I look gross," you huff. Through the anxiety and nausea, your heart swells at how attentive and patient Suguru is.

The sound of the television in the living room sounds distant from your little bubble with Suguru, lost in whatever trance he held you in. "You're okay," he reassures. "How do you feel now?"

Swallowing once again, you take a deep breath and adjust the heated pad on your abdomen. You take a minute to feel, repeating Suguru's comforting words in your groggy mind.

"I feel... decent," you murmur. "Better."

His shoulders visibly lose tension as he smiles, and he leans forward to press a soft but lingering kiss to your forehead.

"That's what I like to hear. Can you stand?"

Part of you wants to shake your head, to stay sat on the ground and wallow in your despair because Gods your legs felt so numb, but you'd much rather be in Suguru's company than to be left alone with your own thoughts.

You nod, and ever the gentleman, your boyfriend loops your arm around his shoulder to help you stand up. Though your legs are wobbly, he keeps you upright, guiding you to the living room couch.

"Pick out something to watch," he says. "I'll be back with some crackers and your bucket, just in case. Any special requests?"

Leaning back into the cushions, you shake your head as you sigh, content. "No. Jus' need you with me," you hum.

As Suguru flashes you an award winning smile, he eases your worries with the same smooth voice that greets your eardrums every day. "I'll always stay with you, princess."

And you shut your eyes, comforted with the knowledge that, no matter how gross you may feel or how sickly you may be, Suguru won't ever leave your side.

[rainy-day-revelry]

For all my Fairy!Hyrule lovers who also appreciate a bit of angst, may I remind you:

Faefolk hate the color red as it reminds them of iron filled blood, including red berries. Mayhaps they hurt to eat just like iron hurts to touch?

You can break fae magic by turning your clothing inside out. I’ve seen this shown as the fae being unable to see you, or in some cases unable to perceive your presence at all

Several plants are thought to repel fae, such as boxwood or rowan, but you could really use any plant for this purpose. I see daisies used a lot.

Fae can’t lie, only dance around the topic. Can Rulie?

As mentioned, iron hurts fae. You know what most armor contains at least a little of?

Dancing with a fae often leaves you trapped dancing forever until you die of exhaustion or your magical captor frees you. Rulie doesn’t have much experience with his fae powers, or with dancing. Would he know how?

Pretty please, run wild. Give me more full-fae Rulie, and give me consequences for that

[three-realms-archive]

Relent

Belphegor waking up early isn’t entirely a normal thing.

Not unless it’s his turn.

Seven days in a week. And seven brothers spend their school vacation living in one Serenity Manor, with the human they love usually busy on errands. In the human world, the way the clothing shops, the grocery stores and the public transport all worked was so different to the Devildom - so it was typically up to you to go out in the morning and run chores. It was just faster that way; since not even Lucifer enjoyed fiddling with the buttons on the self-checkout screen very much.

That meant your mornings were packed. And, after much debate - and an enchantment preventing anyone from covertly changing the schedule hung up on the fridge for just this purpose - it was decided that you would wake up one brother each day of the week.

And today was Sunday. A whole six days, Belphie had to wait.

So he would make sure to milk his day for all it was worth - with the new, super-smart, super-sneaky plan he had spent all of yesterday putting together. It was concrete, fool-proof - and did he mention super-smart?

Because it was super, super smart.

“MC…” He whined as the door creaked open, slowly sitting up in bed. Out of the corner of his eye, Belphie peeked at the clock on the wall. 7am; two hours after he had actually woken up. You walked into his room, soft-footed as to not disturb the usually-asleep Avatar of Sloth.

Right on time.

He feigned sluggishness, nudging his blanket off his body with slow, deliberate movements. He even threw in a few, throaty coughs, for good measure. “MC… I don’t feel so well…”

He watched as your eyes widened, placing what you held in your hands down on his desk and immediately rushing to his side. The butterflies in his stomach fluttered with glee when he realised you had set down a tray of breakfast, made just for him… and he thanked the stars he could pass the blush spreading like wildfire on his cheeks as part of his pretend fever. Sighing contentedly, he let you coo and hover over him, not even needing to persuade you to climb under the covers and cradle him in your arms. He snuggled his head into your chest and squeezed you as tight as he could, savouring his success. Victory!

And the best part was, you had absolutely no idea what he was doing.

…

… You one-hundred percent knew what Belphegor was doing. It was his ‘super-smart’ plan; the one he always used when he wanted you to get into bed with him, or when he wanted an excuse to cuddle you longer. The first, few times he had feigned ignorance. Stubborn in denial, he insisted that he had a very, very bad fever; that he was very, very ill; and that he very, very much needed someone to take care of him.

So, like now, you relent and play along. After all - it’s not an entirely bad thing to have the demon you love press feather-light kisses up your neck, tracing his nose along your jaw. Groggy mumbles about how warm you are and how amazing you are made your face heat up and your heart beat faster.

And when Belphie smiled up at you, with a boyish smile shining as bright and beautiful as starlight, you both forgot to keep up your silly, little, pretend acts.

And you both realised that, when it comes to one another, you would always relent.

(current second place in the poll is fluff, so here it is - giving Belphie some love after starting an entire series dedicated to lesson 16 lollll. it's belphie being sleepy, petty and cuddle-y; and, really, what more could you ask for?)

[chibimochii]

“Feeling guilty over a broken plate? Not on my watch! Big brother is on his way to make his little brother happy again!”

I am still, after these years of Genshin still such a big fan of these two,, what I wouldn’t do to see them finally just.. hug it out after so many years.. well I will just live in the past where everything was fluffy and wholesome.

Enjoy some art now, I haven’t fed you guys in a while, sorry~✨

[jaylleoo14]

An Octopus First Impression II

part I

His first proper introduction and your "first" impression

>GN!ReaderxAzul

A/N: This is starting off right where it was finished so please check out part I first to get better context ^3^ And yes, this one is much longer

[disclaimer] A certain someone can't take a damn genuine compliment 🙄 (okay but understandable)

[characters] Azul & a little of a jesting Jade

In all honesty, you knew who Azul was. Who didn't know the dorm leaders when they are the most prominent leading representational figures in each dorm? You've met some of them personally, getting to talk and spend time with them on not so irregular occasions. Sure you see them more than often compared to the others, but it differs and varies. It's usually expected for students to at least show some respect for the dorm leaders, I mean they are dorm leaders for a reason. Yet there really are some arrogant nobodies from time to time and it's only then the wrath of the dorm leader's power and authority gets put into action, reminding everyone just who they are messing with.

Azul was no exception. In your mind, he is a dorm leader, automatically making him more powerful than the average students here and has qualities fitting for this role.

There you sat with the poised man, sitting aside from you on your left as he sat with his back perfectly straight. His posture made you a bit self conscious so you fixed yourself up properly once you realized that your posture wasn't the best against the wooden back of the chair. Just by the way he was sitting and talking, the way he gestured and pointed, everything about him seemed to just radiate professionalism. The way he would explain terms or the events leading up to the main wars, what magic played into what part and so on.

How kind of Azul

Your thoughts are only interrupted for a moment when you think to yourself how kind Azul is, his willingness to help you with your studies. Once that thought is processed in your brain, it then goes back to listening and following along with Azul.

You nod along with his explanations, following where his pointer finger would end up on the pages and his little personal opinions of why things are the way they are.

"Hey Azul? How about we take a break? I feel like I kinda need it" A hand props up on your cheek as your posture goes back into a relaxed curve and your elbow propped on the table and you let out a little sigh. He continues to keep up with his prim sense of etiquette, pushing up the frames of his glasses.

"Why of course. I'm sure going over the material for about almost an hour straight must be daunting and draining for someone such as yourself. Though we'll get back into the lesson once 20 minutes has passed." He flashes a smile your way, a stark contrast to your more drained self.

Perhaps it was because this is the first time you and Azul have ever interacted with one another, but one of your first thoughts is rather if you'd prefer his tutoring or Riddles. As you consider it some more you think as of right now you'd rather stick with Azul because you're pretty sure Riddle is a bit fed up with you right now and you don't want to feel the pricks of the thorns from the rose.

"Hey Azul? Thanks so much for taking the time to help me out. I appreciate it" Clasping your hands as you stretch yourself out, he lets out an affirmation that it was no trouble at all.

There are a diverse set of students here at Night Raven College. To brute strength guys to the most pretty silver tongue guys out there. If it weren't for your careful judgment in knowing when and where to proceed you probably wouldn't have made it this far with your companion Grim by now. Pomifiore is known for its elegance, the dorm based on the tenacity of the Fairest Queen. The students residing there you'll see are full of fair skinned and perfect silky haired individuals, looking as if they are from the richest medieval fairytale books you'd read in dark romance.

You've never got the chance to properly look at Azul, the whole session's main focus being the studying part. So when you come to take in his features, you can't help but to take a moment and stare in awe at how handsome and dashing he was in an unobtrusive manner.

He's so pretty

The way his lips looked plush and prettily pink, is that his natural color? His eyes looked calculative and thinking, yet looking so enchanting. The mole diagonal under his lips, giving it a nice accent. Sure you've seen some fairly good looking people who don't belong in Pomifiore, but his fair clean and glistening skin and his perfect features could fool anyone into believing he was a part of that dorm if he were to wear the uniform. Vil will always be the fairest of them all, but something about Azul enraptured one's heart just as well. The tentacles pull at the heartstrings as it lays there beating in the grotto. His look almost humbling despite his beckoning alluringness, as if it could draw me into the depth of deep waters like a siren calling in passerby sailors.

"Prefect, may I ask why you were watching me during flight class?"

"What?" In real time, despite all these thoughts running in your head you could say that it lasted for only about a minute - which is long enough for him to be aware that you were clearly staring even if you were trying to be discreet about it.

You feel your cheeks turning a warm red, embarrassed by such a blunder. "Oh well, I mean I can't take flying classes so you know, whenever flight class is in session I'm usually in the back doing exercises. And during one of our joint sessions way back I saw a glimpse of you then"

"I see, what a terrible time to see me truly"

"haha, what do you mean? It was pretty f- ahem. I mean, I think despite not being the all time best at wielding the broom, your skills prove enough to pass the class"

"Don't think that I didn't catch what you were going to say '' A little scowl forms on his face and I cant help but to laugh a little instead of feeling intimidated.

"Sorry sorry. But at least you guys can ride the brooms, it looks fun." Your voice sounds a little left behind as you recall the memory. "Being magicless isn't all that great when everyone is in the air and you're the only one on the ground doing sit-ups"

A shiver runs up your spine just thinking back to Vargas impeccable-muscle brained shouts.

"As the kind hearted person I am I can say that I can sympathize with your situation prefect, i'm sure being magicless in an a magic-filled school has it's risks." Azul twists his upper body to face me, sharing indulgence in our conversation. "And as the benevolent man I am, my doors are always open thus you need any sort of assistance, I'd gladly like to help in any way possible"

He places those gloved hands of his on his chest to give off a welcoming presence, a charming smile to top it off.

How generous he is

"Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are Azul?"

Now it was Azul's turn to stumble. "What? Are you trying to ma-"

"Look I didn't mean to get you off guard like that, but I think you should just know that. Take my compliment as a thank you for your generosity."

Azul can only give you a suspicious look, as if you had some hidden intent or meaning to those words. His piercing gaze shooting you like a triton. It was a rather sudden change in topic, he cant help but assume something was up.

"You don't have to believe me, I'm just saying you're pretty jeez. Take a compliment will you? It's not everyday you get one"

Clearing his throat he straightened his posture which he didn't even realize faltered.

"Why then, thank you for the compliment, Prefect." Just barely a light hue of peachy pink can be seen on his ears, and you were right. It's not every day he gets compliments. Weird, why wouldn't he? He's so pretty.

Because this is an all boys school full of cocky bastards who can't compliment others genuinely for shit y/n. Of course, an inner sigh comes out.

"Why are you suddenly so awkward now?" A mirthful laughter springing passed my lips.

"I'm not being awkward in the slightest, perhaps you should be better at reading others before deducting a conclusion"

"Someone sounds defensive" You divert your eyes to look up to tone it as indirectness, leaning against the creaking wooden chair. 

“And someone thinks they are being rather cheeky”

“Haha, no way! It was just a simple compliment. Did you want me to start teasing you instead and genuinely not mean it?”

“If you think someone such as yourself could tease me then you’d be terribly mistaken. I’d say you’re acting rather comfortable with me if you can so easily say such a thing.” Tilting his head up as an artful smirk paints his face, perhaps to better describe it better; a machiavellian one as his lips pursue to open to speak. “Comfortable enough to even shamelessly stare at me. But I am pleased to know my physical appearance is to your liking, Prefect.”

“I think it's normal to stare at pretty things though.” A lighthearted chuckle fills the air around me and I share a similar smirk to his, only this one was painted as amusement and playfulness. “Were you thinking you had something on your face instead? That would be a little entertaining to see you freak over that, if I were to say.” 

He doesn't reciprocate the playfulness however and just shoots back a more stern face. “I see you are feeling rejuvenated enough to want to fool around now, I think that’s enough break time for you.” Readjusting his position he turns to flip the textbook page over and you can’t help but laugh a little.

He’s kinda funny

He’s smart

Almost endearing even

With a slight pout and a feigned whine you scoot up your chair to prop yourself better against the material laid table and lean in to ready yourself to listen and follow along with Azul. With your eye going back to their attentiveness on the book, darting back and forth to write and scribble in your notes, next to you a small smile creeps on Azuls lips. His cheeks slightly a little red; it’s shade comparable to one of a watered down crimson sunset sitting on the edge of the sea. 

Pretty is what they think of me

You can say this study session went well as you both now exit the library, feeling not only drained but confident and pleased to have more self confidence in yourself now. It was not only productive, but you get the impression that your personalities interact with one another well. 

Azul sees you off, insisting he were to personally escort you back to your dorm but you firmly decline. You deemed that it was already enough that he used up at least 4 hours of his time to use it to tutor you.

“I was born with legs, but not a brain big enough as yours to comprehend all of that material in one go or two. Have a pleasant evening Azul, I greatly appreciate your help,” hugging your textbook and notebook stuffed with writings and notes. You wave him goodbye as you walk off.

They have a better image of me now, good

Azul walks back likewise, in a better mood and his mind more at ease. Not only can he use that study session to pull out some favors from you but he was able to wash away that pathetic self of himself on the broom from your head. Killing two birds with one stone, how easy it was. 

‘Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are Azul?’ your words echo like a ripple in his head. On the walk back he can only smile to himself remembering your words of what can be assumed of honesty from the heart and not some simple lip service to butter him up. 

They are rather interesting. We got along better than I expected

Being able to make the Prefect indebted to him is a big score today, the reason why he’s in such a good mood - is what he’s telling himself. But the overly pleased and delighted air around him tells Jade that there is more to it when Azul begins to share the success of today, arriving back at the chic and sea-themed office.

“You seem to have enjoyed your time with the Prefect, Azul. Perhaps if you continue to accompany them they may drown you out with compliments and poke holes in your heart.” 

Purposely saying that in a way which could be taken in two ways, selectively picking and choosing his words, Jade can only teasingly comment.

“I assure you it was all in my own self interest and benefit Jade. I don't let such words to affect me in such ways,” Azul combats his jesting with a serious look in his eyes. Jade can only chuckle a little, going along with Azul’s words to assure him that he meant no harm and it's back to work after spending so much time neglecting them. 

“Of course. It would take some time to poke holes in three hearts instead of one after all”

There you were, lazing on your striped cushioned couch back at the shabby dorm which you can respectively say is your dwelling and your little companions, alongside the ghost who you’ve managed to coexist with dwelling there before you. Your notes are put away and neatly tucked in. Residing in the corner of your history notes, a little ‘he’s kinda cute’ is scribbled on a random page.

Not like he'll ever know though, right?

[melatien]

tiny yoichi (unwillingly) lures out soldiers by being his helplessness little self so his brother can strike

[xia0ming56]

Happy new year!!! Wanted to post this at 12 am but my ipad died on me b4 i cld finish it :///

[leapdayowo]

Welcome Home Goop!Wally au

First encounter

I’ve been debating the name I want for this au for a bit, but I’ll go with goop!wally au because that’s what he is! In this au, the Welcome Home neighbors are not puppets and Wally is a goop creature (with some powers,,). There will be a lot of focus on Barnaby and Wally as kids at first, but then the other neighbors will get pulled into the story :) I don’t know what else to say about it rn as I want to post art of the key points in the au

“Hello”

[peaches2217]

“Peaches not another sleep-deprived Daddy Mario fic” yes another sleep-deprived Daddy Mario fic, cringe is dead and I perform the Macarena on its grave

EDIT FOR POSTERITY: This WIP was completed and published! Read it here!