#m!writes

your eyes widen with excitement, a small giggle passing your lips. "are you sure you won't get sick of me?"

he regards you incredulously. "don't be silly, sweetheart."

after that, nanami brags to whoever will listen. colleagues, clients, consultants, friends. no one is safe.

he goes on and on about his lovely wife and how lucky he is that you're willing to work with him.

the number of people who tell him they could never do that with their spouse, that spending so much time together would drive them crazy— it truly shocks him.

"i don't know, satoru," you sigh dismissively. "probably because we're pushing thirty."

he lets out a scandalized gasp, as if learning his age for the very first time.

"thirty, shmirty— doesn't matter! i'll have you remember that i'm still a year older than you, so you could call me senpai every once in a while."

your expression, a lovely blend of aggravation and aversion, absolutely delights him.

"it's a wonder i've managed to put up with you for over a decade," you return dryly.

he flops across the couch, his shoulder blades landing squarely on your thighs.

"oh, indeed!" he exclaims, feigning sympathy. "i can't imagine how difficult it must be."

he smiles up at you all boyish and wicked, like some dream of your youth, and you can't help but giggle. "is there something else i can help you with?"

he shrugs. "wanna go get takoyaki?"

the offer sounds casual, but he knows it's one of your favorites.

"fine," you acquiesce. "you're buying."

he leaps up, pulling you with him so eagerly that you crash into his chest.

the trader is a vampire and they offer you the potion to permanently increase your strength, but only if you let them feed from you.

astarion would try soooo hard not to let his emotions betray him. you haven't defined your relationship. the decision is yours to make. he's just using you, anyway...

but gods, does the thought of someone else's teeth in your neck make him sick to his stomach. no one else should be able to taste you, to hear the way your breath catches at the first draw of blood, to feel your hand grip their bicep if it gets to be too much.

you decline the offer, much to the pale elf's relief, and he finds himself in your tent that night. he joins you even before the other party members have gone to sleep for the evening.

his desperation quickly becomes apparent. he litters your neck with bites before moving to your chest, then your abdomen. he hardly even feeds, too busy marking what's his.

making his way back up your body, he laps at the blood he's spilled while the warmth of his breath fans across your delicate skin.

once he finds your lips, he leaves a lingering kiss there before pulling back. his expression is almost sheepish, though the sentiment is gone the very next moment.

he settles beside you wordlessly, opens a book, and pretends not to see the look on your face— knowing and amused.

he pities the acquaintances he's made in his line of work— never committing to one person and constantly giving him shit for not doing the same. they have no idea what they're missing.

he stops for groceries on the way home most nights. more often than not, he has to grab the extra diaper bag from his backseat and use the baby wipes to clean his bloody hands. he's not the type to bring you flowers, but he always picks up a drink or sweet he knows you like.

a boy on the playground makes your little girl cry and it's "oh you think that's funny? get over here you little punk. i'll show you funny—"

he doesn't understand why you're dragging him (and gumi, who's cracking his knuckles and following along) in the other direction while rambling apologies to the boy and his parents.

when his alarm goes off at 7am, you always let out a small whine, rolling over and curling up against his side. how is he supposed to brace the chilly morning air when you're so warm beside him?

once he finally does gather the willpower, he'll tap your waist and offer a quiet, "okay, sweetheart. it's time."

your eyes don't even open when you press your lips to his neck and tangle your legs with his.

"please not yet," you plead softly.

"alright," he sighs almost immediately, pulling you impossibly closer and cradling your body against his chest. "a few more minutes."

and so recently, he shows up to work caffeine deprived at 9:03am, sporting a crooked tie.

tags/warnings: fluff. fem!reader. gojo beefing with an eight year old. 700 words.

ever since megumi started the second grade, it's been (l/n)-sensei this. (l/n)-sensei that.

gojo picks up megumi's favorite ice cream, only to be scolded by the young boy. "(l/n)-sensei's favorite flavor is strawberry, so that's my favorite now!"

gojo tries to help him with his math homework, and it's "(l/n)-sensei did it this way. that means you should too!"

gojo reaches down to tie megumi's shoes for him, before his hand is promptly smacked away. "(l/n)-sensei said big boys tie their own shoes!"

honestly, gojo is starting to feel a little jealous. megumi's known you for what? two months?

he's been raising megumi for the past few years, but does that earn him an ounce of the adoration the young boy seems to have for you?

apparently not, though he perseveres nonetheless.

he casually drops an armful of stuffed animals in your lap with a passing comment about how they made him think of you. that he knows how much you like cute things. when you deem one of them your favorite, he's quick to suggest "you could name that one choso."

he leans farther into your personal space than most anyone would deem socially acceptable and sniffs your hair. he gets this dreamy look on his face before telling you how good it smells, that it looks soooo soft. he twirls a lock of it around his finger just to be sure.

he gives you a box with the world's saddest looking cupcake that he made you himself (he begged yuuji to help, but of course they're equally clueless). it's your favorite flavor, or at least it's supposed to be, and he looks sooooo thrilled when you eat every last bite.

"that depends," you respond from your spot on the couch, not even sparing him a glance. "are you still an asshole?"

his eye twitches in annoyance and he moves across the room, his tall stature now looming over you. "wasn't me being an asshole part of the deal?"

"if by deal you mean relationship, sure, but there are limits."

he huffs, plopping down beside you dramatically. the couch creaks in protest beneath his sudden weight.

"and saying your favorite anime character is annoying.. that's where the limit lies?" he presses, sounding exasperated.

"first of all, he's not even necessarily my favorite. second of all, i kin him. do you know what that means?"

realization crosses his features, followed quickly by vexation.

"gods," he laments, head falling into his hands. "i do know what that means. what have you done to me?"