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oh-katsuki · 4 months

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it's been a really long time since i wrote porn for porn's sake. here u go. it's alpha nanami :)) i don't have a title for it oops

cw: alpha!nanami, omega!reader, a/b/o, breeding, knotting, heat and rut cycles, dubcon on both sides, fingering, cohabitation, taboo, protective nanami, i feel like there is a slight primal kink in here, light dacryphilia,

wc: 3.1k

nanami didn't mean to take in a stray, but that's sort of how it happened. you're staying with him until a particularly careless friend helps to find a suitable living arrangement for you. nanami really isn't sure how it became his problem, but he'd feel awful if he'd told satoru no and left you without somewhere to go, no matter how against living with an omega he is.

frankly, nanami doesn't support the idea of alphas and omegas living together. he thinks it's a bit perverse. there's far too much at risk and the situation can become dangerous if it's the wrong pairing. sure, sometimes it works out. the better of his kind (of which he considers himself to be) give the necessary space and resist the temptation, but the others... take it too far. it'd be easier for you to live with a beta, and nanami wonders why satoru didn't first go to one of them. maybe your pheromones are weak and satoru isn't worried. that's probably why he hadn't noticed them when satoru first brought you by to ask if it'd be okay.

he knows that second gender is a spectrum. some alphas and omegas hardly emit any pheromones at all, even during heat and rut cycles. nanami thinks he likely falls into this category, seeing as he's never been particularly tempted by an omega and very few have ever been all too tempted by him, but it's a gamble. it's—frankly—unethical to ask this of him and though nanami knows that he should have said no, something in his good nature compelled him to say yes.

you've weak pheromones too, he thinks. he, of course, can feel them to a degree, but seeing as you mostly keep to yourself, it's hardly a problem in the first few weeks. frankly, the most tempting thing about you is that you're beautiful. you seem to have an almost standoffish air about you, proud and dignified, with a preference towards a more solitary and observant lifestyle. most of the day, the two of you hardly even see each other, going about your lives entirely separately only to settle into the same house for bed at night.

you don't say much when you're home. in fact, nanami would wonder if you could speak at all if it weren't for the conversations he hears you having on your phone and the little laughs or eyerolls you give in response to his comments. there's understanding there, but it's silent and you hardly ever dignify nanami's words or invitations with a response. maybe you're airing on the side of caution. he wouldn't blame you if you are. so, for the next two weeks the two of you coexist without so much as a hello between you both, silently sharing a space. you stay out of the way and nanami pretends that he isn't slightly unsettled by your constant proximity and the creeping feeling that you don't really like him all too much.

"they're a little difficult," says gojo over the phone. "kinda standoffish and really smart."

"so i've noticed," nanami responds. "i can't say i blame them though. you've put us in a weird spot."

"oh, nanamin, i know you well enough to know that you wouldn't lay a hand on them even if they begged," satoru laughs. "and they really might."

nanami grimaces at satoru's statement.

"i still don't understand why it had to be me," nanami says flatly. "you could have called ijichi. it'd probably be safer."

"how noble," satoru snickers, "but i trust you. hang in there a few more weeks. we've been working on securing an apartment for them and once we do, they'll be out of your hair. you're an angel for letting them stay." he sing-songs into the receiver. nanami holds it away from his ear.

"sure," he says. "it's not really much trouble... it's just.."

"that they're an omega. i get it. stay strong or whatever lol," satoru laughs. "unless of course, you really like them."

nanami huffs and hangs up the phone. satoru's got a good head on his shoulders, but he knew where that conversation was going. satoru was likely to say something about your heat cycle and nanami, being an optimist in cases like these, hopes silently that it won't come for another two weeks. he knows he could ask, but he worries about coming across as something of a creep. nanami is a little orthodox in the sense that he believes alphas and omegas should be separate for this reason exactly. suppressants exist but they don't always work and though nanami has sense about him, he's always had an insecurity about the kind of monster his second gender could make him. it sets him at ease a little that your pheromones appear as weak as they are.

you round the corner into the living room, standing just on the far end of the room. you're wearing pajamas, but you seem to feel no need to cover yourself or hide any perceived indecency. nanami glances at you, making a point to avoid looking at the shape of your body. it's inviting and you look at him for a moment with a small smile before raising one single eyebrow and letting out a low huff of air. nanami decides that you'd heard his conversation and he watches you shake your head as you move to the kitchen to peruse what he has. your hips, swaying slightly with each step, draw his attention to the curve of your ass and he feels ashamed for even having looked.

you're beautiful, that's certain. even the way you move is beautiful. nanami has eyes enough to see that. something stirs inside of you when he speaks, wordless recognition, maybe amusement or irritation, and vice versa. regardless, it's beautiful and nanami finds that the longer you're here the more he has to swallow it down.

you seem to get a little uncomfortable if nanami has people over, even for a moment. not that you've ever said anything about it, but you appear set on edge when he does so in the following weeks, it leads him to not bring anyone over at all. he can't bear the idea of making you uncomfortable. for as little as you've spoken to him since you've been here, nanami finds that he's grown rather fond of you. if things continue this way, he should hate it when you leave. admittedly though, he's looking forward to it a little. nanami feels that you're... a temptation. one he can't really seem to overcome.

one evening, you sit down in the living room with him. it draws his attention to look at you.

"i'm not mean, you know," you say flatly.

nanami is astounded to hear the cadence of your voice so clearly and without prompt. he can only offer a nod in return.

"i'm just picky," you continue, shifting in your seat as if you're made uncomfortable by the way you're sitting. "i have to be, being the way i am and all."

"i understand. i'm not offended," nanami says. "but some people would probably call that rude."

you smile at him, coy and delicate. "would you?"

"maybe," he offers. "if the circumstances were different."

nanami clears his throat, furrowing his eyebrows at your body language. something's off and he wonders if maybe your cycle has begun. he shifts on the couch and turns his full attention to you.

you move over to him and sit just adjacent to his leg. something in him stirs, primal and unrecognizable. you've never been this close and he only now notices that you smell nice, like something light and fresh.

nanami feels his chest stir. "this is the most you've ever said to me, i think."

"sorry," you say.

"don't be," he responds.

this conversation is awkward. it's loaded. it's like a conversation between two people who can't exchange more than a few words without experiencing intense sexual tension. he clears his throat.

"i need your help," you mumble, shifting closer. he knows what you're implying.

"i can't help you," nanami responds through gritted teeth.

"please," you say, standing slowly. you linger in front of him for a moment before reaching out and slowly straddling his legs. nanami flinches as you settle on him, pausing for a moment to breathe. "touch me."

you place your head against his shoulder, fingers grabbing his shirt as if you're agitated. the skin of your cheek is warm against his collarbone and he can feel your hair against his jaw. you twitch lightly when you touch him. carefully, he places a large hand on your head. your whole body flinches, unbelievable warmth soaking into his skin.

you feel like you have a fever and the next time you raise your head, your eyes have gone glassy, face darker. your lips are wet and lightly parted and a layer of sweat covers your forehead.

"not like that," you say, something needy creeping into your voice.

nanami, against his better judgement, rests his hands on your waist. you shudder under his touch and he slowly strokes the exposed skin of your sides with his fingers. trailing the pads of them against raised goosebumps on your skin. between your legs, he can feel heat. he knows you're wet and he knows what you want. nanami isn't sure he can give it to you, he's unsure that he should. it's not illegal, but he feels that it's wrong. something about it is fundamentally wrong and the situation goes against all of his morals. his mind still wanders.

you rest your forehead against his chest, and he feels your pheromones as they hit his nose and soak in through his skin. his body responds, tensing. your breath picks up, little heaves and pants, and you squirm down against him almost involuntarily. nanami feels himself grow hard. it surprises him and shames him. he feels heat rise to his cheeks at the realization that he's pressing up against the inside of your leg, something that makes you stir and settle directly over him. every exhale from you is a borderline whine and the syrupy smell of you grows more intense by the moment. nanami still runs his fingers along your sides, venturing over your tummy and back occasionally.

"just a little bit," you command, rubbing your cheek against him and then placing your mouth on the side of his neck and biting. "i'm sorry. just a little bit."

nanami winces and you drag your hips over him. his hands fly to yours, gripping hard enough as you make you whine.

"i can't," he grits out, speaking directly against the way his cock throbs against your core. he can feel it's dampness, a humidity that soaks through his pants.

"it hurts," you mutter and nanami feels an unpleasant stirring in his stomach. he hates the thought of you being uncomfortable.

"maybe we can find help-" you twitch over him, making him wince, "for you."

you shake your head, "you."

nanami exhales and tips his head back, his fingers still on your waist. he weighs the outcomes of this in his mind. he could push you off and fix you a blanket and a safe space, give you some tools to help yourself and then plug his ears and pretend he doesn't want to do it himself. he imagines the buzzing sound, the way you'd whimper from the other room over, still unfulfilled despite the aid. he thinks about your fingers between your legs, unsatisfying and only serving to worsen the itch. it makes him strangely jealous, nauseous almost, that you should be so uncomfortable in his presence.

you exhales against him and it's a near defeated sound. nanami's fingers buzz with adrenaline, his cock swelling and throbbing every time you so much as shift over him. there's a lack of control in this situation and his fingers move to comfort you almost against his will.

something natural and easy takes over as he slides a big hand down to the front of you and cups your cunt. it feels almost like an out of body experience, but both yours and nanami's humanity drips away slowly to make room for these primal actions. you shudder and nanami's chest swells with relief as he sees your expression. there's a need within him to care for you. it's protective, the same way he'd feel if you were in physical danger.

nanami moves his four fingers over you slowly, his breathing hitching as you push your body against him. he can feel your dampness soaking through your thin shorts and it isn't long before your relief gives way to more need.

"just this once, nanami," you breath against his neck. "please."

nanami's head is filled with something syrupy. probably you. it's probably a chemical reaction caused by you and he knows that any pheromones you're releasing are probably being released in equal amounts by him. they take up space in the room, crowding him so that all he can focus on is you, is the need between your legs that calls to him like song.

"okay," he gives in, pulling your panties to the side and dipping his fingers into you.

you shudder and let out a short cry, thighs trembling. he knows he won't be able to satisfy you like this, but he wants to try. nanami knows though that there is no such thing as nipping it in the bud with these sorts of things and as he begins to move his fingers inside of you with a beckoning motion, he feels himself slip farther away.

you're so wet, dripping down his fingers. your pussy clenches around them, begging for a knot, sucking the two digits up into you and then threatening to push them out. nanami has been with omegas before, but he's never felt himself slip away like this. his humanity leaves him in favor of something animal.

nanami shushes you quietly as he pulls his fingers from your body. you whine and squirm against him, pressing down and grinding against the bulge in his pants. he sucks in a sharp breath and quickly discard your bottoms, leaving you bare and exposed in his lap.

your cunt is sticky and shining, glistening with your wetness. he can smell it, the way you're probably fertile, and the perverse thought crosses his mind that maybe you deliberately avoided your suppressants so that he could do this to you. how out of character for him to think that.

for someone so proper, he makes quick work of pressing the head of his cock against your entrance. you push your body forward to try to take him in and nanami very quickly slides into you. you're tight and with the way your cunt makes him feel, he knows that the stretch must hurt you, but he can't seem to stop. he's so focused on quelling the ache within you, buried deep in that spot where his knot will inevitably catch.

you are barely capable of forming words now, dumb and deaf with your heat. any words of comfort nanami offers to you seem to go in one ear and out the other, but he offers them anyway. they're automatic and they come without his even needing to think about them. things about taking care of you, about knotting you the way you're begging him to, about making sure you're never alone when you have to do this. if he were in a better state of mind, he'd be mortified.

instead, he fucks his hips up into you, holding you by the waist against his throbbing cock. then, when that isn't enough, he lays you on your back on the couch and presses your knees to your chest so that he can go deeper. he needs to get deep enough to where his knot will catch, to be able to stay there to ensure it catches properly. he feels the way air leaves you with every fuck of his hips.

you raise your hand to touch his face, eyes glassed over and watering as gentle tears slip down your cheeks. a silent encouragement that pulls him from his thoughts back to you. nanami turns his head instinctively and kisses the palm of your hand. then, he takes your thumb into his mouth and bites down on the fleshly part at the base of it. he could draw blood if he wanted, but he doesn't. instead he takes your hand as it falls from his lips and kisses you plainly again on the palm before pinning it above your head.

"i'll take care of you," he grunts out and you nod deliriously.

nanami makes quick work of knotting you. he bullies his cock as far in as it will go, swelling and swelling until he sticks. you squirm as he does, gasps growing higher in pitch until you're silenced by the pressure deep in your abdomen. you cum around him, he thinks, pussy fluttering as it throbs around his knot. then, you exhale as the heat recedes into the background with this momentary relief.

nanami winces as he holds himself up over you, slowly returning to his head as the swell of pheromones recedes and leaves only the feeling of the space he takes up in your cunt.

you search his face for something, benevolence maybe, and nanami places a wide palm to your cheek.

"i'm sorry," he breathes as words find him again. "i didn't intend to-"

you shake your head, returning to yourself as well. "don't be, i wanted to."

nanami isn't really sure what to say and you wince under him as he settles his weight a little further, throbbing lightly at the mention.

"hold me," you ask and nanami obliges. he settles fully over you before lifting you so that you're straddling his lap again. you wince and nanami soothes you by gently stroking your face. it's automatic again, the urge to comfort you is well beyond his control.

something in you triggers something in him and it is two full days before either of you are lucid and well enough to separate. satoru calls him multiple times, but nanami ignores him, too preoccupied with his unexpected rut and keeping you comfortable. at present, he's well past the initial guilt and frankly, entirely hellbent on deciding that you should stay. so much for his practicality, nature won out in the end.

nanami doesn't really think he'll ever hear the end of this, especially not from satoru who, when he inevitably gets a hold of them, will tease so relentlessly that it might shock nanami and you back into your senses. he decides to hide out here with you for a little longer, filling the room with the scent of you both until it crowds out everything else. he likes the way you feel nestled up beside him, messy and breathing deeply as you sleep.

a tag for my friends @antizenin and @kentocidal bc they asked!!!

#nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #jjk x reader #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #tw: a/b/o #tw: breeding #tw: dubcon #i can't find my writing tag #also there are prob spelling mistakes in here i apologize #i apologize if this isnt very good

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 5 months

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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.

#genuinely fucked up that suguru geto isnt in my kitchen rn </3 #i just think sugu is such a caretaker. makes u breakfast and peels ur satsumas w/o u even asking. bc it makes him happy :’3 hes so Mother #i think he lowkey gets just a little bit uncomfortable when u or gojo try to do the same for him… he likes doting on u #but obv he deserves to be pampered too!! just gotta ease him into it #and i think gojo has a hole in his heart where love should be. bc he wasnt given enough as a child #im not sure what to think when it comes to his parents (since we know literally nothing abt them) but...#the idea of him finding some comfort in the memory of his mom…. maybe not realizing that he misses her…..… i think its very sad. and good.#listened to ricky montgomery while writing this i think it mightve healed me #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x reader #geto x reader #geto x reader x gojo #gojo fluff #geto fluff #satosugu x reader #satosugu x you #satosugu x y/n #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #……… thats… a lot of tags.

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coffeebanana · 1 year

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Sorry if some of these overlap a little/if I left out something obvious kajbdsjkd I tried my best haha. And that's why there's an "other" option!

#coffeebanana polls #personally i think i'm good at writing emotions!#and that's funny to me because growing up i was very much not an emotional person #i had to sort of learn to value emotional intelligence as opposed to pure logic. and i probably repressed some things kjabdfskj #so i'm proud that emotions come through in my writing!#fiction has always been something i can use to connect emotionally even when i struggled doing that irl #and i think that's really cool #anyways i'm looking forwards to seeing what you all love about your writing!!!

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charcoaledrocks · 4 months

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hello Tumblr User @pittdpeaches you ruined my life / j

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omaano · 4 months

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It's his day to join the Hades AU! Happy Cody Day!!

""This weapon is your life" is what my general often said to lecture his old padawan during the war, and yet he constantly lost his. The lightsaber and his cloak... The things might be cursed. Not as much as yours, though." "Please keep that thing far away from my kid."

Rex from down the hall: "Stop trolling the shiny as a way to cope, Cody!"

Cody: "I have nothing to cope with, this is just for fun. The Darksaber is definitely cursed and you know it."

Rex: "Oh yeah, it definitely is. Sorry kid."

Din is still trying to figure out how he counts as a "shiny" here

Backgrounds, as per usual, are screenshots from my latest attempts at a run in the Hades game. All I can do is add more pocket characters, I'm not gonna redraw the whole set TT^TT (but look, Din is holding a handful of green and brown pixels now!)

#please insert the appropriate “that is the GAR's ass” joke here for me #tumblr where are my reds again???#commander cody #cody day #coday #cody day 2224 #cc 2224 #hades au #star wars fanart #tcw fanart #my art #the clone wars #you're not following me for my ability to write good dialogue #so just appreciate what a fine figure cody cuts from this angle alright?#dunk that man in some soapy water his armor needs a good scrub #he has no murder on his conscience whatever might rex be alluding to? what does he know :P #when they don't have din to pick on cody is trying to coax rex into calling boba an “anklebiter” to his face #it's only a matter of days before he wears rex down #(rex is already game he just wants cody to bet something very good for it)

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egophiliac · 5 months

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happy new year Ego!!! Just wanted to let you know that I absolutely adore your twst fanart and the tags are just an absolute pleasure to read! You are my greatest inspiration for my personal twst art and I just wanted to thank you for your wonderful masterpieces <333 if possible, may I ask what are some of your headcanons for the diasomnia family? If not for diasomnia then any other characters are fine as well!

thank you, and happy new year! 💚💜💚 that is amazing to hear; it's always a little bewildering but super flattering that other people like my silly little doodles so much!

I don't think I really have any really solid headcanons and also canon keeps validating me left and right (FLUFFY DOMESTIC DIAFAM IS REAL). mostly just kind of...impressions and general thoughts, if that makes sense! lately though I've been kind of obsessed with thinking about Lilia's hair, and specifically when/why he ended up cutting it. (l-look, we're bouncing around the timeline and I gotta make decisions about these things when I draw, it's relevant) (I mean I would probably be weirdly fixated on this anyway, but.)

I think I've settled on the idea that he kept it long until he went to NRC, partly because 1) I like drawing The Ponytail, and 2) I think he thought of NRC as a chance to reinvent himself a bit! he gets to go and be a wacky carefree teenager for a few years and have fun! (officially he's there to keep an eye on Son #1, but how much trouble could he get into, really.) so he gave himself a Cool Teen Haircut to go with his fresh new Cool Teen Persona!

also maybe he had some reflection on his hair's troubled past with three kids...

...and had to weigh his vanity versus the fact that he was going off to be around hundreds of kids on a daily basis, and. the choice suddenly seemed obvious.

#art #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland spoilers #twisted wonderland episode 7 spoilers #twisted wonderland episode 7 part 6 spoilers #twisted wonderland book 7 spoilers #twisted wonderland book 7 part 6 spoilers #this is my blog and i'm going to write a million words about lilia and you can't stop me #but anyway i do genuinely get the impression that he's using Pretending to Be a Teenager as a chance to be even sillier than usual #he's a very silly man he's just being EXTRA silly #supported by his recent birthday card where he says he was specifically trying to cast himself as an adorable little brother-type #because he wanted the other students to give him free shit and save him seats and things like that #it worked for about a week before he turned out to be way too good at stuff and everyone just kind of ended up in awe of him instead #and he was like DANGIT. I'VE RUINED IT FOR MYSELF.#(then he and epel went on to talk about their hypothetical vtubersonas because the birthday cards are INSANE but anyway)#i'm bad at headcanons :( sorry!#unless it's dumb things like...what pokemon they would have or whatever #(malleus would have some kind of special fancy-colored dragapult) (but i digress)#i have a hard time putting things into words. just know that i love the grampa bat and his weird kids very much.#my brain is also still kind of fried from the last couple of weeks #i am however starting 2024 off the way i intend to continue it: in deep contemplation of anime hair #(sorry if these look weirdly aliased) (i realized about 3/4 of the way through i was using the wrong brush and i didn't want to restart :U)

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zer0pm · 1 year

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Imagine both Leon and Luis offering you their jackets when you start shivering.

“You cold?”

“A little bit, but nothing I can’t handle.”

You say this with your teeth chattering and it was clear on Leon’s unamused face that he wasn’t buying it. The blonde sighs, hiding a slight smirk before his lips return to his characteristic frown.

“Here,” he says, shrugging out of his thick, fur-lined jacket. In doing so, the strong definition of muscles on his arms and chest came into full display and you couldn’t help but note every sculpted line. Those years of secret government training did wonders for his physique and the tight navy shirt left little to the imagination. Your overactive thoughts nearly run wild when his arms flexed out of his sleeves.

Remembering yourself, you shake your head. “Thanks, but won’t you be freezing?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Leon says with a slight smile, his gentle tone echoing yours when you tried to save face in a surprisingly teasing manner. For as long as you’ve known the blond, he was rarely warm and gentle. His stern, straight-laced demeanor and dry sense of humor often overshadows his kinder, sociable qualities. So to see him so openly considerate was a rare treat. This unexpected side of him stirred feelings inside you that are not at all unwelcome, but you found yourself at a loss for words.

He takes his jacket by the collar and offers it to you with an encouraging look that said that he wasn’t going to take “no” for an answer. You breathe out an air of defeat, reaching towards him. Against your will, your eyes roamed over the thick veins of his strong forearm and bicep appreciatively, and you tried to recover by quickly looking up. That was a mistake. He was no longer wearing a grin, but the heat within his eyes intensifies when they meet yours. You felt your cheeks burning under his knowing gaze.

Your fingertips (unintentionally) brush against his as you grabbed hold of the faux fur and was about to accept the weight of the clothing in your hands until you felt something warm and heavy drop around your shoulders. It took you by surprise and you look over to your side to see Luis standing next to you- sans leather jacket.

The Spaniard had his signature lopsided smile on his handsome face as he adjusted the stitched leather around you, making sure that it would not fall. It gave you an opportunity to look him over as well. You knew he wore a white-buttoned shirt, but now that he wasn’t wearing his jacket, you can see how nicely the fabric fitted on his frame.

For a man who considers himself the brains of your group, he was impressively cut. While Luis wasn’t as strongly built as Leon, he had a lean, well-defined waist that would have otherwise been hidden from sight with his jacket on. The sleeves of the shirt hugs his long arms nicely and his broad frame tautly stretches the thin creases that ran across the fabric, accentuating the exposed portion of his scarred chest. It became apparent to you then that Luis left the few buttons undone for reasons beyond just visual appeal.

The dark-haired man chuckled beneath his breath as he caught you staring. “Take mine, my friend. I’ve kept it warm- just for you.”

“Luis,” you started, trying to keep a straight face, “aren’t you worried about getting sick?” Your consideration came from a genuine place of concern and it showed in your voice, but you couldn’t argue the relief you felt wrapped inside the warmth provided by his jacket. You thought the leather would do little against the chilly weather, but surprisingly, it felt wonderful on you- most certainly because Luis’ heat formerly occupied it and the thought of you surrounded in said heat made your already feverish blush deepen.

“Y no te preocupes por mí.” He assures confidently. “I grew up in these parts. This weather doesn’t affect me one bit, so I insist.”

The man doesn’t give you an opportunity to respond.

“Unless…” Luis pauses for a second, playfulness glinting in his grey eyes. He then steps closer to your front. The movement forces you to reflexively let go of Leon’s jacket, leaving it to hang in the other man’s hand to allow room for the Spaniard to step in between you. Now only Luis stands in your full view, his eyes locking yours, all while maintaining his charming grin. “We come in close. Like this.”

The devilish man wraps a daring arm around your shoulders, nudging you closer to him but not forceful enough where you couldn’t pull away if you wanted to. You subconsciously didn’t want to and allowed him to bring you in, stopping to where your chests are merely a hair’s breath away from pressing against one another.

“This way we can keep each other warm,” he continues with a wink. “A good idea, ¿sí?”

Your ears pick up an annoyed scoff and you look over Luis’ broad shoulder. Leon stood with arms crossed, his bored eyes casted to the side as if finding something interesting in the distance. He already had his jacket back on, much to your disappointment.

Before you, Luis wears an amused smirk, addressing the blond without looking at him with faux intrigue, his focused gaze still resting entirely on you. “Something funny, Sancho?”

Leon ignores the obvious jab, “Just making mental bets on how long you’ll last before you start running your mouth. So far, I’m leaning towards two minutes.”

This made the Spaniard take a step back to turn his body sideways, arm still resting around you. Luis hums thoughtfully.

“Such harsh words for a squire,” he dismisses the counter with a casual shrug, squeezing your shoulder. At the time, you thought it to be a warm gesture, not once detecting the possessive undertones blatantly on display at the action. “Never underestimate a knight’s resilience. Or his endurance.”

If you had paid attention, you would have noticed the two men glaring at one another. You would have caught Leon’s challenging snarl and Luis’ taunting gaze. But no, you were too busy settling into Luis’ jacket, slipping your arms into the sleeves and zipping it closed around your form.

Ashley’s voice calls out to the three of you, announcing that she found something. Without a second thought, you start stepping towards her direction, separating yourself from Luis’ heat. You missed the frown he wore at your absence and by the time you looked back at him, he had on his usual charming smirk.

“Thanks for the jacket, Luis. I’ll give it back, I promise.” You say graciously, causing his grin to widen to a genuine smile. You then stop before Leon, also offering him a grateful look as you patted his chest. It was meant to be an amicable touch but the contact sent jolts of electricity from your palm to your chest. His body exuded an inviting warmth that made you hesitant to withdraw as you spoke trying to keep your voice level. “And I appreciate the thought, Leon. You’re always so reliable.”

You missed the subtle redness in his cheeks then too, willing yourself to give space and continuing to move to Ashley’s location. Both men are left staring after you, longing evident in the pools of silver and blue. After what seemed like an eternity of tense silence, Luis is the first to speak up.

“Dos minutos, mi culo.” He grumbles, a hint of amused irritation in his thick accented voice.

Leon snorts in turn. “That was generous.”

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