i like to cry

to be loved is to be found ( ꈍ◡ꈍ) 🌟

based on this post by @mewnbuns!! so kewl an aven post fr???1111!!

Just a silly little thing I did for Mother's Day after seeing Destiny working on her comic, haha

roommate!gojo offers his place because it’s close to campus and you’ve known him long enough, better than rooming with a stranger—besides the absurd house rules he establishes on day one.

rule #1: minimum clothing on sundays. failure to abide, and you’re doing laundry for the whole week. he enforces it by wandering shirtless all day, stretching obnoxiously, telling you “it’s just tradition.”

rule #2: the couch is for cuddles. it’s “illegal” to sit on opposite ends, he declares. if you try, he sprawls out dramatically—long legs heavy across your lap, or his head tipped back so he’s blocking your view of the tv. sometimes he just whines, loud and pathetic, until you give in. the moment you scoot closer, that smug grin of his shows you he’s won again.

roommate!gojo who knocks once and struts in the bathroom anyway because rule #3 says that bathroom doors are optional ’cause you never know when emergency strikes. he’ll walk in with a towel shamelessly low, toothbrush hanging from his lips. stands a little too close behind you when you’re bent over washing your face, and passes you a wink if you tell him to move over.

roommate!gojo ’s rule #4: if i cook, you taste-test first, except his “taste-tests” mean holding a spoon at your lips until you open up. he licks it after you just to watch you squirm, moaning exaggeratedly loud, “mmm, see baby? sweeter when it’s shared.”

roommate!gojo insists on calling each other by pet names because “we have to be nicer to each other!” baby, sweetheart, angel, princess, cutie— anything he can find. if you complain, he doubles down, “you’re so cute when you’re threatening me, pumpkin pie!”. in texts, in public, even in serious conversations— he firmly believes in rule #5.

sets up a moaning tax as rule #6. if you yawn, stretch, or make any noise, he clutches his chest dramatically, “hngh—baby, you’re killing me. that’s a moaning tax. pay up.” when you ask what the “tax” is, he leans close with a lazy grin, murmuring in your ear “moaning my name instead would do.”

roommate!gojo who’s more daring with his house rules as you become comfortable with him. cause now, rule #7 is that laundry is communal. he tosses his clothes in with yours, but when you’re folding, he pulls your panties from the pile, twirls them on his finger with a smug grin, “ohhh, these are definitely mine, right?”. says it’s “efficient” to share, but keeps mixing his shirts into your drawers on purpose.

roommate!gojo wiped your excess lipgloss off once, and very obviously licked it— “mhm, yum. tastes like coffee.” and now rule #8 is that greeting kisses are now mandatory. at first he says cheek kisses only—“it’s european, duh.” but pretty soon he leans in expecting mouth pecks every time you leave/come home. when you roll your eyes, he teases, “don’t be shy, it’s house culture now.”

roommate!gojo doesn’t want you to get sick. so obviously, rule #9 says: skinship is compulsory during cold weather. it’s to “save heating costs”. sits pressed against you under a blanket, legs tangled, arms around your waist. sneaks in chaste kisses to your forehead, says “i can’t have my lips chapped, greeting kisses need to taste soft.”

roommate!gojo really wants to be the best roommate ever. he really only wants to look after you. the moment you sigh about being tired and he has you face down on the bed, straddling your thighs, kneading your back with big hands— he swears it’s all a serving act and not a selfish one. his touch drifts lower each time, until his thumbs are brushing the curve of your ass. he hums innocently when you tense. “relax, sweetheart. doctor’s orders.” rule #10: massages are owed after stressful days.

roommate!gojo new favourite rule is definitely rule #11: showers are shared in emergencies. the “emergency” is just that he overslept. he barges in, strips without hesitation, and squeezes in behind you. it’s morning droopiness making him grab your ass and giving it a squeeze. he’s only pressed up against you from behind because he’s too tired to stand stress. he’ll wash your back if you shampoo his hair. equivalent exchange.

roommate!gojo has your sense of boundaries completely twisted by now, rule #12 is accepted as naturally as everything else: late-night cuddles are non-negotiable. satoru claims you sleep better if he holds you— “science proves it.” gets hard way too fast and doesn’t try to hide it, “oops,” he giggles, “think i’m hard, gonna take care of it now?” has his hands roaming your abdomen and inner thighs, subtly grinding against your ass while telling you not mind him and sleep well. absolutely loses his shit when you arch back into him. fast forward to hours later, he’s not moved one inch, morning wood still pressed against you. winks at you when you glare at him, “see? you slept like a baby.”

And now Rocky and Adrian equally love Grace. They always argue over who gets to bring him to their work (Adrian likes to have him for feedback for the bio-dome and Rocky likes to have someone to talk to while he tinkers). They both watch over him when he sleeps and Grace wakes up to two Eridians very, very close to his face.

They’re the couple with the third wheeling friend, except they are all equally happy about the arrangement. Rocky and Adrian go on a date, just the two of them, one time and get asked by no less than six people if Grace is okay.

it’s ironic, really.

for someone known as the strongest— untouchable, infinite space between him and everything else— satoru just cannot keep his hands off you.

at all.

you’re sitting on the couch? his arm is already around your shoulders. he’ll grab a handful of boob while he’s at it, not even in a sexual manner, he simply treats it like a fidget toy.

walking somewhere? fingers laced with yours like it’s a life-or-death requirement. he’s pulling you away from anyone walking too closely, which ends up with your entire arm in his grasp.

standing perfectly still? his hand finds its way into your pocket. does he have his own? sure. does he care? absolutely not.

trying to cook? he’s behind you, chin resting on your head, fully convinced he’s helping while absolutely not helping. occasionally, he’ll have his hand directly on yours.

“toru,” you say, attempting to stir something without elbowing him, “you are literally making this harder.”

“i’m helping,” he corrects, tightening his hold just a little. “just making sure you don’t accidentally burn yourself.”

it gets worse in public.

for a man who used to keep the entire world at a distance, he now treats you like a built-in accessory. hand on your waist, fingers brushing yours, casually leaning on you like you’re the only solid thing in existence.

at one point, you stop walking entirely.

he takes three more steps before the invisible leash snaps him back, looking back at you like a puppy waiting for his owner.

“hey— why’d you stop?”

you cross your arms. “can you go five minutes without touching me?”

he stares at you. actually stares.

like you’ve just asked him to breathe underwater.

“…why would i do that?”

“because normal people have boundaries.”

“you don’t like it?” he pouts, very seriously. “what’s so wrong with me showing affection?”

you have to stifle a laugh.

he takes advantage immediately— hands on your cheeks, squishing your face a little. “see? you like it just as much as i do.”

“you’re impossible.”

“and yet,” he leans in, forehead bumping yours, smug and soft all at once, “you’re always within arm’s reach.”

which is true. you don’t move away, you never do.

which, (un)fortunately, only encourages him more.