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Demons are used to it, their skin unnaturally warm to compensate for the coldness the constant moonlight brings. You on the other hand, are not.

When you first arrive you have to figure out how to deal with it, buying heavier layers and modifying your uniform. Most of the brothers don’t notice, but Mammon does.

Mammon is often the one around you the most, simply because he’s supposed to be your caretaker he doesn’t like you or anything…

He notices the heavier layers, the modified uniform, the way you shiver when you step outside for just a moment in your pajamas.

Sure, it’s not that cold… but it’s cold enough for you to feel the shiver in the air, similar to late fall weather back in the human realm.

Little did you know, it gets much worse.

The winters there are absolutely freezing, sub zero temperatures are a casual occurrence during their winter. Honestly, you miss their “summer” when there’s only a small chill in the air.

Your layers get heavier, your uniform gets modified again, and you’ve started to wear thick hoodies around the house.

Most of the brothers brush it off, you’re human after all… you’re different than them. But Mammon takes extra note of it. He definitely doesn’t like you at all or anything…

He starts keeping an extra jacket on him just for you to borrow, even ordering things from the human realm to try and help you keep warm.

It’s nice, and honestly it makes being there just a little more bearable.

But still, you’re only human.

As you sit on the floor in the living area, huddled up close to the fireplace you hear some footsteps coming from behind.

Not an uncommon thing, you pay no mind as they get closer and closer.

Mammon says a few words, not that you’re paying much attention. You’re more focused on staying warm during a cold winter night, and he understands… more than everyone else.

You only peek up when you hear the rustle of clothes, his shirt discarded on the floor.

Of course you question him, asking how he isn’t cold in the freezing house. He of course waves you off, only slightly flustered.

He gently moves your blanket, pulling you up against him. Immediately it’s much warmer than even by the fire, your icy skin quickly heating up to a comfortable temperature for the first time in what feels like forever.

You sit for a while, neither of you talking as your body takes its time to go back to a regular temperature. It’s warm, and comfortable, and it’s honestly the best thing you’ve felt in weeks.

Eventually you fall asleep, finally able to get comfortable without your body temperature being too low. Mammon lets you, keeping you pressed up against him not to wake you.

You wake up the next day in his bed, having felt more rested than you have in what feels like months.

ғᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ᴀsʟᴇᴇᴘ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛʀᴏɴɢᴇsᴛ

☆ 400 ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇ. ᴠᴇʀʏ sʜᴏʀᴛ.

ᴄ.ᴡ; ғʟᴜғғ, ᴅᴏᴍᴇsᴛɪᴄɪᴛʏ, ᴀғғᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

You tried to stay awake, you really did, but the quiet of the penthouse seemed to lull you right off to sleep. You had promised Satoru that you would stay awake to watch a movie with him tonight once he got home, but your body has other plans.

Leaned against his side, you felt your eyelids grow heavy as the action movie continued playing on the large tv screen in front of you. You yawned quietly, and before you knew it, your eyes fell shut and you mentally vowed that you were only resting your eyes. Not sleeping! You refused to break your promise!

Until you actually dozed off ten seconds after that.

Satoru barely noticed at first, his impossibly blue eyes locked on the screen in front of him while he munched on popcorn with an obnoxious crunch. He chewed with wide eyes and colors flashing across his face, one arm still wrapped loosely around your shoulders despite his concentration. He found himself completely enamored with the current scene and shoving another handful of popcorn in his mouth that your dozing didn’t even catch his attention. Satoru’s gaze was still locked on the screen when he first noticed the shift in your breathing, gaze flitting down to your serene expression where you drooled against his shoulder.

He blinked three whole times with popcorn still clutched in his free hand.

The grin that blossomed across Satoru’s face wasn’t smug or cocky, not like it usually was. He found himself feeling…soft. Crazy, right?

“I knew you wouldn’t make it through the whole thing,” he mused quietly, rolling his eyes to himself and pulling you closer to his side at the same time. Satoru quickly returned his attention to the tv screen in the meantime, his attention now focused on the movie once again. Only half of his attention, anyways. The other half? Still focused on your warmth pressed against his side.

…you wouldn’t mind staying there for a while, right?

Apparently not!

By the time you regained consciousness and peeled your eyes open, you were still on the couch and just as comfortable as before with a fluffy throw blanket tossed over yourself. You lifted your head to peer around the living room with half-lidded eyes and mild confusion before you found him. Satoru, standing in the kitchen with his back to you, and practically hunched over the stove trying to perfect the pancakes he was attempting to prepare for you. Completely unaware that you were even awake yet on the couch behind him.

You felt a smile tug at the corners of your lips at the sight and just dropped your head back down onto the pillow he provided for you, staring at the ceiling and listening to his faint muttering.

Maybe you should fall asleep during movies more often.

note. re-posted from sideblog that will be deleted at the end of the month [@/jynerie]

Gojo Satoru is known to be loud. 

Gojo Satoru, with his white hair, striking blue eyes, and impossibly handsome face, is loud. Everywhere he goes, he basks in the attention, the spotlight. The gazes of awe, fear and jealousy. 

He is loud, everything about him is, but that doesn’t deter you.

No, in fact, that’s what made you fall for him. 

Shoko asked you before, face twisted in genuine confusion. “What do you see in him?” Then another question, “How do you deal with him?”

You just smile and shrug, because he may be loud but he’s yours.

Satoru, your Satoru, is loud. He loves you loudly, kisses, cuddles and warm hugs even in public. He loves you with the intention of making everyone know that he’s yours, and you're his. He is loud, in the way he excitedly calls for you, in the way he wraps his entire body over you, in the way he talks about you. 

Your Satoru basks in your attention, the way you stroke his hair, hold his face in your hands and whisper your affections to him, and he is loud in how he reciprocates. Kisses, compliments, cuddles– everything. He loves you loudly, in the way that he doesn’t care about the attention he gets because his attention is solely on you, and everyone knows. He makes sure they know. 

Gojo Satoru is loud. Loud, with his white hair, striking blue eyes and smile. Loud, playful, and clingy— but he’s yours.

the moment you first held hands, gojo satoru was already imagining your wedding. 

the venue, the color scheme, the details? already in mind, with additional tweaks according to your preferences when the time comes.

his mind is working a mile a minute, listing down boutique names to look for your dress, what his suit would look like, flowers, possibly a band or something. 

satoru is meticulously going through a wedding checklist like he already proposed. well, in his head, he did. with the above and beyond “will you marry me” written out in sand, or with rose petals, or maybe jetplane smoke, plus the fancy dinner reservation, plus what dress you could wear, what the ring would look like— oh, that man has it planned.

he’s on his knees, begging, to already be at the altar with you in your wedding dress, and vows that speak for forever. 

but you just held hands. 

hey, let a man have hobbies… right?

A game you and your dear husband started the moment your baby started babbling. Little excited gurgles, slobbery cheers and incomprehensible babblings, and you started to repeat the word 'mama' around your child more often, in hopes of it becoming their first word.

Then your husband started doing it.

Oh, it's on.

"Ma-ma." You enunciate it with a grin, bouncing your baby on your hip as you stir the food in the pan. "Ma-ma!"

Your little girl just squeals, babbling things you couldn't make out but you continue on. "C'mon, sweetheart! Say it with mama! Ma-Ma!"

Her attention is somewhere else, little eyes flickering around the place as her hands curl open then close over your shirt.. You sigh, and give up for the time being.

A few days later,"Pa-pa!"

Baby hands grip at your husband's larger fingers, and she squeals. "Wabababa!!!"

"That's great, honey, but let's try it again, this time with a little more pop."

"Pa-Pa!"

Wide eyes stare at him. Pretty cerulean eyes like his, and he sighs. "Can you do it for papa?"

She starts mimicking the way his mouth moves, and he nearly jumps up from joy at the little sounds of "pa.... ap ma?"

Then—

"Mama!"

His heart drops.

His little girl is smiling, babbling "Mama!" over and over again like her papa's heart isn't on the ground right now. Crushed, stomped into little pieces by the babblings of his baby girl chanting for her mother.

"Oh nonononono- baby, honey, sweetheart, c'mon, lets try again-"

"Mama!"

"noooo—"

"Mama! Mama!"

The front door creaks open. He freezes." ... 'Toru, did I just hear her say mama?" He can already hear the wide, victorious smile on your face, and he turns to see you at the front door. There's a glint in your eyes and he slowly goes, "...no."

Unfortunately for him, your little girl ends up squealing the moment she spots you.

"MAMA!"

You see him deflate like a balloon. You bite back your laugh, reaching out for your little girl as she toddles over to mama.

Later, you soothe your pouting husband.

"Next time." Satoru grumbles. "The next baby will have papa as their first word."

You giggle, pressing a kiss on his cheek. "Sure, honey."

your husband thinks your daughter is dumb... ꩜ husband!nerd!jo

the front door's heavy click signaled the end of a grueling shift, and you let out an exhausted sigh as you kicked off your shoes. walking toward the living room, you heard satoru's voice.

"no, sweetie. that’s not mars..."

right after, your daughter's bright, bubbly giggle echoed through the space.

you stepped into the room and saw a neat little solar system model sitting on the coffee table.

satoru was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of it, his round glasses perched on his nose and his white hair slightly messy.

"welcome home," satoru said, looking up at you. he turned back to the toddler, pointing at the small painted spheres. "show mommy where saturn is."

you watched your daughter reach out a tiny hand. she bypassed the rings of saturn entirely and tapped her finger directly on top of a tiny, blue sphere.

satoru let his head fall forward into his hands, letting out a loud groan. he looked up at you with a sigh. "honey...be honest with me. is our daughter dumb?"

"she isn't dumb, satoru," you laughed, sitting down on the floor next to him. "she’s only two. you've probably been drilling her on this for hours."

"because i want her to be like me," he muttered, pouting as he watched her spin a tiny plastic earth. "i tried making a game out of it, but she just looks at me and laughs."

"she's messing with you because she likes your reactions," you said, pulling your daughter into your lap. "right, munchkin? are you giving daddy a hard time?"

your daughter just giggled mischievously, burying her face in your shirt.

"see? that’s a guilty face," satoru said, leaning closer to poke her cheek. "you're a little instigator."

"don't look at me, she gets that from you," you replied, smiling.

while the two of you were talking, your daughter suddenly wriggled out of your arms. she leaned back over to the small table model, her eyes scanning past mercury, venus, and earth.

she stopped right in front of the largest, striped giant on the track.

she pointed a tiny, chubby finger directly at it, looking over her shoulder at satoru with a wide, triumphant grin.

"jupeetah!" she squealed.

satoru’s entire face lit up. he leaped up from the floor, snatching her into his arms and lifting her high into the air.

"i knew you could do it!" satoru cheered, a massive smile breaking across his face as he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. "that's my little genius! did you hear that? she got it!"

he held her close, looking over at you with pure excitement.

you just shook your head, your heart completely full.

𝗦𝘄𝗲𝗲𝘁𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗢𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗱𝗼𝘀𝗲 | Gojo Satoru

Notes: DAMN WAS THIS FUN TO WRITE-- especially the last one, which proved to be both fun and challenging cuz I struggle to write intimacy. I'M RUSTY OKAY? but anyways, I hope this meets your expectations my dear @looha !!

Tags: fluff, Gojo being gojo (which means he's basically a menace), jealousy + suggestive(? content at the end.

Word Count: 1,453

divider by @/pxrce-lain

𝚂𝙰𝚃𝙾𝚁𝚄 has a nightmare and wakes up panicking. You hold him through all of it. 𖹭

𝑭𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇. ꒰ 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ⋮⋮ comfort ⋮⋮ canon jjk ꒱

It happens in the middle of the night.

The room is dark except for the thin spill of city light through the curtains. You wake to the sound of his breathing. It's ragged, uneven, the bed is trembling, and the air's charged like a curse has settled in the walls. You sit up instantly, still tangled in your sheets, and find him curled at the edge of the mattress, back to you, hands gripping the sides of his head like he’s trying to press a nightmare out of his skull.

“Satoru,” you whisper softly, already reaching for him.

He flinches when your hand brushes his shoulder.

“I—I can’t,” he gasps. “I don’t—fuck, I don’t know where I am.” His voice is smaller than you've ever known it to be. He sounds so scared.

You slide closer to him.

His whole body is shaking. Sweat clings to his back, and when he turns to look at you, his eyes have gone a pale blue, wide and frightened— not like those of Gojo Satoru, strongest sorcerer alive. But like a boy who’s just watched the world fall apart in his sleep.

The sight of him like this pulls something tight and aching under your ribs. You have seen him cocky, careless, and brilliant, but you've never seen him look this lost.

“It was you,” he says, like he’s confessing something unspeakable. “It was you, and you were gone, and I couldn’t— I couldn’t find you—”

“Hey,” you murmur, cupping his cheeks, trying to get him to steady his vision back on you. Slowly, his gaze focuses on your eyes. “Hey, sweetheart, breathe. I’m right here.”

Your thumbs stroke over the sharp lines of his cheekbones. His skin is damp and fever-warm, and he leans into your touch like it’s the first solid thing he’s felt in hours.

“I tried calling for you,” he whispers, his voice breaking, the more he tries to get it out. “But my voice wouldn’t come out. It was like— I was trapped in a dream where you never existed, and I was the only one who remembered you and fuck—”

The words crack open at the end. His breath stutters once. You feel the fine tremor running through him from shoulders to wrists.

You pull him tight into your arms, and this time, he doesn’t flinch. He clings to you with a desperation you’ve never felt from him before. His forehead presses to the curve your neck, arms wrapping around your waist like you’re all there's left to anchor him.

The weight of him settles against you. Heavy and real. You can feel every rapid beat of his heart where his chest meets yours.

“You’re okay,” you whisper. “You’re okay, baby. It was just a dream.”

His voice is wrecked. “But it felt real.”

Your hand slides up to the back of his head, cradling him. Fingers sink into soft white hair still messy from sleep. You hold him there, steady, while his breathing scrapes in and out against the side of your throat.

You rock him a little without meaning to. Small, slow movements meant to soothe. His grip on you only tightens.

“I’m real. I’m right here.”

He holds you tighter, his voice is more sound and clear now, “You’re the only thing that feels real.”

The rawness of his voice makes the words splinter something inside you.

You lie back against the pillows, tugging him with you, settling him over your chest. His hair is damp. His breaths are still uneven. But you keep running your fingers down his spine, whispering his name over and over like prayer.

The sheets have twisted around both of you now. One of his knees is hooked over your thigh. His cheek rests right above your heart, and you can feel the way he turns his face inward just slightly so he can hear the steady thump of it clearer.

You keep talking. Soft-nonsense. His name. "You’re here. You’re safe." Over and over until the worst of the shaking starts to ease.

His fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt and stay there. He doesn’t try to pull away. Doesn’t try to joke or brush it off the way he usually does when anything gets too close to the soft-soaked center of him.

You press your lips to the top of his head and leave them there. Just breathing him in. Laundry soap and warm skin and the faint salt of sweat.

Minutes stretch. The panic in his body slowly loosens its hold. His breathing deepens by degrees. The rigid line of his shoulders softens under your hands.

And he falls asleep like that— curled on top of you, cheek pressed to your heart, as if your pulse is the only thing strong enough to pull him out of whatever darkness still haunts him.

And before he slips under again, you hear him murmur—

“Don’t ever leave.”

You press a kiss to his temple.

“Never.” You whisper assuringly.

You stay awake a little longer just to be sure. Watching the slow rise and fall of his back. Feeling the way his weight sinks heavier into you as sleep finally takes him all the way under.

Outside the window, the city keeps its usual restless rhythm. Inside the room, everything has gone quiet again. Soft and a little bit safer.

You keep one hand moving in slow strokes along his spine. The other rests lightly over the back of his neck, fingers intertwining with the short fluffy strands of his undercut at the nape, gently twirling and petting it.

He sleeps without dreams this time. Or if he dreams, they don’t reach him hard enough to wake him.

You close your eyes only when you’re certain he’s truly settled. The last thing you feel is the steady press of his cheek against your chest and the quiet certainty that neither of you will be apart from each other.

“this is the shampoo mom uses for you, right?”

gojo hovered over your daughter in the bathtub, staring at the very intimidating lineup of hair products that stood before him. he loved your hair, the way your curls always sat perfectly atop your shoulders every single time you got them done, and he always paid close attention to the order of products you’d use whenever the two of you showered together.

he’d gotten used to the routine by now, helping you do your hair whenever you were too tired to do it yourself—committing everything to memory so he’d do it perfect justice.

so, when he was blessed with a daughter who was practically a carbon copy of you, he knew doing his precious girl’s hair would be the greatest thing he’d ever do.

your menace of a daughter looked up at him, narrowing her eyes to make sure he knew not to fuck it up.

he reached for the shampoo, squeezing a generous amount of it onto his palm, slowly lathering it on her scalp while you sat outside the bathroom, eating a bowl of fruit while gojo was absolutely laser focused on washing her hair.

he grabbed the shower head, washing out the lathered shampoo, finding the conditioner in the shelves, leaving it in a couple minutes before washing it out again, slowly draining the water and lifting her out with a fluffy towel before seating her on your dressing table.

“dada why isn’t mommy doing my hair?” she sighed, slowly looking up at him with her eyes that had him melting.

“because daddy’s better at it, duh.”

“daddy’s a bad liar.”

he was combing through what he could find, looking through the order of haircare in his phone before applying them onto her hair frantically while she giggled at something you said.

“gods, you guys are the same.” he grumbled while applying the leave in conditioner and smallest amount of coconut oil in her hair.

“and you love us, toru.” you sighed, with your daughter turning around to simply stick her tongue out at him.

he was finally done, carrying her up and leading her to her closet so she could pick out her clothes, with you giggling at how much he’d sweat through his shirt.

“nervous, huh?”

“i’ve watched you do your hair a million times before, i was prepared, okay?”

you got out of your seat, kissing him on the cheek while she walked out in the cutest dress she could find.

“aww look at you, you’re just like a princess.”

“i am.” she said, crossing her arms over her chest while pouting just the slightest—she might’ve been a carbon copy of you, but gojo’s genes still found a way to show.

a/n :: based on this req!! sorry i’m so late nonnie <3 also i have curls but i fry them straight because i cba to style them. maybe i should lol

navigation. || masterlist.

satoru and his adoration of your lip routine

masterlist ♡

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gojo thinks this is torture.

not only has he been ready for the past half hour, he's also had to sit on your bed and painstakingly watch you indecisively apply your third lip combo in a row. at some point, him scrolling tiktok aimlessly whilst laying atop your duvet became him being an active participant in which lip balm you prime your lips with. or which lip liner you use to best match this one specific gloss. but then, should you even use that gloss? or should you go matte?

now, don't get him wrong, satoru loves watching you do your makeup routine - he's financially contributed to at least fifty percent of the products. and he's fascinated by it, secure enough in his masculinity to have let you give him multiple makeovers in the past. it's just that right now you have a dinner reservation to get to; and currently it's in forty-five minutes. you should have left the house ten minutes ago.

yet, here you sit at your vanity, a myriad of lip products laid out on the table while you ramble about the colour theory behind each of them, "... because this one is more of a reddish brown with a warmer undertone, whereas the other is a bluish brown so it has a cooler undertone..."

you glance back over your shoulder at him, an expectant look in your eyes like you're waiting for his feedback. he just nods with a polite smile, too entranced by the way your lips shine - plump in the refraction of the lamps within your room.

"definitely the first one. first thought, best thought," is the only thing he can come up with to say, but thankfully it seems to please you as you turn your attention back to the mirror.

winding the lipstick up, you part your lips, purposefully swiping the pigment within the bounds of the lip-liner; making sure to blend when needed by pressing your lips together. you smack them a couple of times, looking from different angles to make sure you're happy with the application before gently dabbing a clear gloss on top. once again, you turn around to satoru, only to see your boyfriend absolutely mesmerised - just a single thought behind those blue eyes; you.

yeah, this is torture.

all you do is smile, completely aware of the influence you hold over him, but you throw him a bone anyway, "what is it, 'toru?"

he physically shakes his head to get out of his trance, a lazy smirk settling on his face, "nothing, sweets," standing up off your bed, he crosses the distance until he's towering in front of you sitting at your vanity, and cups your face to tilt it upwards, "you're just unbelievably beautiful."

"giving you a hard time, am i?" you laugh, the corners of your eyes crinkling with your grin - gojo never shies away from complimenting you, but it still manages to give you butterflies every single time.

"oh absolutely," he begins to lean in, gaze dropping to your perfectly done lips.

you catch this, a hand instantly coming up in between your faces to cover his mouth and stop him from kissing you, "uh, i don't think so, gojo. you're not ruining them this time," you say with a raised eyebrow.

satoru's eyebrows furrow in disappointment, one of his hands moving to hold yours on his face and bring it down, "just a quick one, please?"

you scoff, fully ready to deny him once again; but when you're met with that pleading gaze he knows you're soft for, you feel your restraint faltering, "...one kiss, satoru."

the beaming smile that replaces his frown is instant, like a child who just won the grand prize at a carnival game. gojo closes the rest of the distance, bending down so he can connect your lips and leave a gentle yet firm kiss on them. your hands reach up to his forearms, as his continue to cradle your cheeks. an audible 'chuu' is heard as he reluctantly pulls away, staying close. for a second, neither of you move, choosing to marinate in the moment instead - laboured breaths circulating in the space between you. you can tell you're both trying to keep it together, to regain control and not let the mood shift.

obviously, you're the one that has to break the moment and be the voice of reason - even shakily. you swallow hard, "our reservation..."

he slowly shakes his head, eyes flickering between yours and your lips, voice low, "we're so late already... why don't we just stay in...?"

the underlying suggestion in his words makes you chuckle, and you stand up from the seat at your vanity, forcing him to move to accommodate it. you pat his chest, moving past him to grab your bag off your bedside table, "hmm, tempting," turning your attention back to your boyfriend who's standing like a lost puppy in the middle of your room, you wink, "but my stomach demands food."

he breathes out a laugh, holding his hand out for you to take, "my treat, sweetheart."

accepting his invitation, you place your hand in his and lead him towards the front door of your apartment. satoru smacks his lips together, tongue darting out to lick at the small amount of product you leftover on them.

he hums in satisfaction, "watermelon?"

all you do is giggle, "strawberry."

‎ . ݁⋆ ꫂ᭪ ݁˖ . ݁

from thea ୨ৎ i can't tell if i like this one or not, but i'm trying to post more!!

-> all writing credits to @dorotheeasrce - do not copy, impersonate, or feed to ai! ｡𖦹°‧

Nerd!Gojo x Fem!reader

Fluff | Gojo finds you asleep on your desk after studying all day.

When Satoru left, you were still studying at your desk.

“Babe, I know I told you to story for finals, but don’t over work yourself.”

“I’m fine, but can you pick up ice cream when you’re out?”

He nods and kisses your forehead.

“Of course, I’ll be back soon.”

That was an hour ago. Now he’s back from the store and opening the door to your apartment.

“I’m home! Oh, and I got your ice cream!”

Satoru walked into the kitchen and set the grocery bags on the counter. He had expected you to run to the kitchen and hug him. But the apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

“Uh, baby? I’m here?”

He slowly walks towards the bedroom and knocks on the door.

“Hey, I’m home. Did I do something?”

Now Satoru is replaying everything he said before he left, thinking you’re ignoring him.

“Baby, I got ice cream, I-“

He opens the door and sees you face down on your textbook. He sighs and walks towards you.

“Aw, you’re so cute when you’re sleeping.”

He tucked your hair behind your ear and kissed your head. He gently tapped your shoulder and you slowly woke up.

As you woke up, you saw Satoru kneeling right beside you.

“Hi baby, I’m back. I got your ice cream, but we can eat it later, let’s go to bed.”

You nod slowly and get up from your desk. He sets his hand on your lowers back and guides you to bed.

He pulls back the covers and tucks you in.

“Thank you Satoru.”

He smiles and kisses you before turning off the lights.

“Anything for my sweet girl.”

the beach in mombasa makes the glossy postcards yuuta sent look like cheap imitations. the sand is a powdery platinum that sparkles in the sun. the indian ocean is a breathtaking gradient, starting at translucent turquoise, deepening into cyan, before melting into navy at the horizon. and the breeze is saturated with the scent of salt and the perfume of plumeria and hibiscus that grow in the wild. 

( it’s the perfect paradise to wallow in after nearly losing satoru. )

you’re tucked in front of a lush wall of coconut palms and broad-leafed tropical plants, lying on your stomach on a large, striped towel, the woven threads pressing patterns against your forearms. 

you haven’t been this relaxed in years. the world’s narrowed to the feeling of the sun on your back, the steady rush of waves kissing the shore, rustling leaves, and your husband’s laughter as he builds sandcastles with yuuta. the rest of his students are off swimming with dolphins, scuba diving, and feeding fish under the sea. shoko and utahime have taken the kyoto students on a safari. and you’re floating in that hazy place between waking and dreaming, right on the precipice of sleep, when a very familiar shadow falls over you.

“you sleeping baby?” satoru’s voice is laced with amusement. it’s almost like he has a sixth sense for when you’re trying to relax

you make a noncommittal sound, humming deep in your throat. “m’trying to. and i will once you go away”

“you’re the one who wanted me to remind you to reapply your sunscreen, sweets” he says

“i’ll do it in five minutes” you mumble, not moving an inch.

“ahh but that’s what you said earlier” he counters

“mmh” you groan, turning your head just enough to crack an eye open and glare at him. and gods, it should be illegal for a man to look this good. he’s all lean muscle, defined abs, and a v-line so sharp it could probably cut glass. his torso tapers into his navy blue swim shorts — matching your bikini, of course. the thick, jagged pink line that cuts clean across his stomach doesn’t detract from how hot he is; if anything it makes him hotter. thanks to the east african sun, he’s starting to get freckles. little flecks of gold dusting across his broad shoulders and the bridge of his nose. like constellations. his rectangular sunglasses are tucked haphazardly into his messy white hair, and he’s smiling down at you, “you do it then”

“you sure you can handle me touching you like that in public?” he asks, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that sends a shiver down your spine

“just help me put my sunscreen on, pervert.” you scoff

“ah, ah, ah” he tuts, “what’s the magic word?”

“seriously?” you let out an exasperated sigh, “there’s no way you’re doing this right now” 

“c’mon it’s just one itty bitty word, wifey” he grins, trailing a finger on the small of your back, “won’t kill you to say ‘pretty please with a cherry on top’ to the guy who’s about to put his hands all over you”

“that’s more than one word” you grumble, rolling your eyes, despite the fact he can’t see them. “that’s like six or seven, actually” you let your head fall back onto your forearms with a soft thud. “fine. pretty please with a cherry on top, help me put on my sunscreen, pervert.”

“see? that wasn’t so hard” he shifts, leaning over you. his toned arm reaches past your head, shoulder and bicep flexing as his fingers close around your small bottle of spf-fifty sun bum. he lingers for a second, chest hovering just above your head, before he pushes himself back and pops the cap open. the cool lotion lands on your back a second later. his hands are gentle as they spread it over your shoulders and down the curve of your back.

he’s taking his sweet time massaging the sunscreen into your skin. working his way down languidly, thumbs pressing into the muscles on either side of your spine, releasing tension you didn’t even know existed. he lathers the lotion over the swell of your ass, fingers lingering a little too long at the crease of your thighs, and you have to bite your bottom lip to keep from making a sound.

(gojo satoru x gn!reader)

playfighting your bf satoru is like trying to inconvenience a mountain that won't leave your face alone.

genre: fluff

cw: established relationship, power struggle, wrestling teasing, playfulness, domesticity, kissing, biting

wc: ~2k

you had him. you definitely had him—at least, that’s what a normal distribution of weight, physics, and human biomechanics suggested.

“oh no,” satoru drawled, not even moving. “i’m being attacked. whatever shall I do?”

“you can start by losing—”

Satoru instantly knows every phase of your menstrual cycle. There is something behind that casual, easy self of his that hides his observant side which is so endearing. “I think you’re in your luteal phase.” He suggests himself one day, now, you know that. But how does he know that? Your heart strings tug at each other; the way your husband smiles softly at you, gently sliding his phone across of you. His Apple Health has your period data. You are almost astonished if not for his consistent efforts like these.

“No energy.” He hums, “Little grumpy.” He adds again, fingers tracing your chin, kissing your forehead. “Got ya something, Princess.”

Just like that, he gets up, bringing you an Iced coffee, adding some dark cocoa to balance your hormones, he brought your favorite peach tumbler for that. Little things, marriage with Satoru Gojo is the little things in which he shows his suffocating love to you.

“Since when did you start researching phases of my period, huh?” You raise a brow, hiding your flush behind a teasing remark.

“Since you became my girlfriend, duh?” He pouts softly, holding your hand. “I mean, I knew your period made ya cranky~ but then there’s gotta be something more than that so..” he croons.

“And you know, I’m good at everything, Princess. All it took was a single glance at a few scientific terms and your husband is ready to tackle you.” He removes his mask, just to exaggerate his showing off and wink an eye.

He makes you laugh, he makes you feel loved. You hummed, leaning your parched self against the straw and sucking in a delicious sip. Perfect. You think to yourself, eyes raking up to meet his. Before you could part your lips again to convey your thanks, Satoru interrupts. “Oh I know, my little thing. I know.”

“where the hell are those three?” gakuganji asks, disgruntled. the higher-ups from jujutsu high are gathered in a meeting, which you, satoru and suguru were expected to be there for as well.

little did they know that the three of you were currently lounging on beach towels, basking in the sun’s smile.

suguru lies back with his arms crossed behind his head, eyes closed as he soaks up the heat. you have your legs stretched out with satoru’s head resting on your lap, a pair of sunglasses sitting on his peaceful face.

“this is wayyy better than a boring meeting,” satoru says, and he peeks up through the gap in the top of his sunglasses and grins once his eyes meet yours. “and a much better view than that old man.”