"Darling? I'm Home." Nanami's Voice Is Soft As It Sounds Through The Otherwise Quiet Apartment, His Eyes

Not Today … Please?

In which you feel as though the JJK men are with you only for sex.

Requested? - Yes / No

Includes - Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Ino, Toji, Shiu, Sukuna, Choso

Hey hi hemlo

Love your writing style so much, that asshole Gojo fic made my heart squeeze like you wouldn't believe

Can I make a request?

A foreign Jujutsu Tech teacher/sorcerer struggling to do paperwork in Japanese. Satoru and/or Suguru try to help, but end up a distraction instead lol

A Welcome Distraction

Sypnosis - Working is already grueling enough, made worse only by the human-sized distractions that are ... the loves of your life.

Warning(s) - None, this is really just pure fluff.

A/N - This really just spiraled into Gojo being an absolute distraction, but I hope y'all enjoy nonetheless!

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

"There she is!" 

"Satoru … restrain yourself, even if it's just for a second." 

With a smile already curling the corners of your mouth upward, you turn your head to your classroom door – which had been swung open by Gojo, a wide smile already plastered onto his face. Not too far behind him was Geto, whose apologetic eyes flicker to you and whose lips quirk upward in an equally as apologetic smile.  

You say nothing as Gojo enters your classroom, beelining to where you sit behind your desk and wrapping his arms around you. His chin lowers to rest against the top of your head, a content hum rumbling in his throat when you lean back in his arms.  

“Hello sweet girl,” Gojo says with a wide smile, tilting his head to press a gentle kiss to the top of your head. You hum, then turning your head to watch Geto as he approaches. 

“Hi. What brings you both around here?” you inquire with a tilt of your head, turning in your seat to get a better look at Gojo. He peers over your shoulder, glancing at the unfinished paperwork that you had been tending to for the better part of two hours.  

Geto leans down, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head and sneaking a glance at your paperwork. “Hi honey, we just wanted to check in on you.”  

You smile, accepting the kiss that Gojo leans in to steal from you, his hands holding either side of your face as his lips curl into a boyish grin against your own.  

Geto rolls his eyes, reaching out to grip the collar of Gojo’s shirt and lightly prying him away from you; though he couldn’t deny the warmth in his chest at both of his lovers doting on one another.  

“That’s sweet of you both, but don’t you have physical training with your students today?” you tilt your head, remembering how Gojo was supposed to tend to the first-years and Geto the second-years.  

At the mention of fulfilling his teacher duties, Gojo groans childishly, hanging his head so that his forehead hits against your shoulder. His back arches uncomfortably, but his discomfort is lessened by the sound of your sweet laugh.  

“I let them have a small break, I couldn’t let Satoru run rampant,” Geto replies teasingly, grinning down at you. You set down the pen in your hand, lifting a hand to Gojo’s hair and scratching at his scalp — which he doesn’t hesitate to purr at.  

“Not true!” Gojo murmurs against your shoulder, removing his head from your shirt and turning to glance at Geto with a dramatic pout, bottom lip jutted out like a child who had been denied a snack before dinner.  

"It's entirely true love," you nod in agreement, chuckling breathily to yourself. Gojo huffs, this time completely disconnecting from you and taking a step away from your desk. He crosses his arms over his chest, still pouting.  

"You're both just so mean to me, and for no reason," he complains loudly, borderline stomping his foot against the ground as his gaze flickers between you and Geto. You turn to your raven-haired lover, both of you sharing a knowing smile just as Gojo grows annoyed with being ignored.  

Geto once again sneaks a glance at the paperwork scattered about your desk; ranging from mission logs given to you by Ijichi to student papers that you had procrastinated grading. His eyebrows furrow at the notes that you had scrawled into the paper's margins, but he doesn't bring any attention to it. 

"It's not being mean 'toru," you try to reason with your childish lover, but he merely presses his palms against his ears and hums obnoxiously. You sigh in exasperation, rubbing your temples before turning to Geto – your only saving Grace.  

Geto chuckles, catching Gojo as he dramatically falls into the former's arms, head knocking against Geto's broad shoulder.  

"Come now, you know she didn't mean it that way," Geto says, voice shaking as he struggles to hold back the chuckle that rises in his throat. "There isn't any reason for you to be this dramatic." 

It's your turn to chuckle now, the noise making both men smile lovingly at you. You half lean over your desk, arms covering your now abandoned paperwork as you turn your attention to both Gojo and Geto. 

"He's right, I don't mind that you both came to visit me," you say truthfully, lips still curled upward in that smile that your lovers could spend hours admiring. "I appreciate it actually." 

Gojo immediately disconnects himself from Geto's arms, beelining for you once again and wrapping you up in a bone-crushing embrace. You laugh heartily in his arms, squealing as he effortlessly lifts you from where you sit behind your desk.  

"'toru! I have work to do!" Your plea to return to working goes completely ignored by the snowy-haired man, who only tightens his grip around you and proceeds to spin you around. Geto joins in on the laughter, his chest warm and his eyes crinkled in a loving smile.  

Even with your complaining, and even with your pleading, you truly do love the distractions provided by not just one … but both of the loves of your life. 

Hey! I saw that you’re writing for JJK characters - do you have a limit on your requests? I have some ideas!

My first one is yuta x sorcerer reader where they’re starting to develop romantic feelings for each other and reader begins to put themselves down by comparing themselves to rika (yuta is unaware they’ve been feeling this way)

Thank you!!🫶🫶🫶

Sypnosis - As odd as it was, you were jealous of a curse. But in truth, your own self-worth was to blame for the situation.

Warning(s) - canon JJK violence, mature themes, foul language, RIka (I love her but she terrifies me)

A/N - I feel like this request would actually be me if I was at Jujutsu Tech, so thank you Anon for unknowingly making me feel very seen.

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

It all started when you slowly began to distance yourself from Yuuta.  

"Hey, Maki!" Yuuta waves, jogging towards Maki with a smile plastered onto his face. His arm is lifted in a friendly wave, one that Maki returns as he makes his way over to her. "Quick question, have you seen (Y/N) anywhere? I've been looking all over and I just can't find her." 

Maki hums in thought, the tip of her weapon tapping against her lip. She shakes her head shortly after, her shoulders lifting in a shrug. "No idea, I haven't seen her either." 

Yuuta's face falls, an expression of worry overtaking the smile that had previously turned his lips upward. His fingers fidget with one another, nails scraping against the sides of his skin as worry crawls into his stomach.  

"I'm sure she's just caught up with her own missions, that's all," Maki says reassuringly, taking a mental note of the concerned expression that had slowly wormed its way onto Yuuta's face. She reaches out, placing a gentle palm against his shoulder and squeezing, smiling at him.  

He nods in agreement – there had been times where his missions piled up and he was left with little to no time to relax. Maybe you just so happened to be caught up in the same situation, it wasn't unlikely.  

"Right, yeah," he mutters offhandedly, his gaze shifting to the floor. He stares down at his shoes for a moment, feeling the pit of worry in his stomach only deepen.  

< ... > 

"(Y/N)! Hey!" Yuuta smiles widely upon seeing you walking beside Inumaki. He lifts his hand in a wave, pausing as he notices the darkened expression on your face. Your eyes flicker away from him, and through the side of your mouth you mumble something to Inumaki before quickly departing.  

Yuuta slows as he grows nearer to Inumaki, eyebrows knit together curiously. Already, you were halfway down Jujutsu Tech's front stairs, back turned to both Yuuta and Inumaki.  

He watches as you leave, turning then to Inumaki, who also stares curiously at you. The sudden change in attitude was unlike you — and he’d be lying if he said that wasn’t curious as to why you acted out the way that you had. 

“Is everything okay with (Y/N)?” Yuuta inquires, lifting his finger to his mouth, nibbling nervously on it. Just over his shoulder, Rika watches curiously, her head tilted slightly to the side in a mixture of jealousy and intrigue.  

"Salmon," Inumaki responds, lifting his shoulders in a shrug.  

< … >  

Groaning to yourself, you catch your head as it falls into your hands. Laid out on your desk are your schoolbooks, none of which have anything written into them even though your original intention had been to catch up on the homework that you were missing. 

But, of course, your mind had wandered elsewhere, too focused on a different situation entirely – your avoidance of Yuuta.  

You hadn't meant to avoid him as much as you did, but it wasn't as if you could help it. Each and every time you did so much as look at him, she was right there to curl a protective hand around him, tugging him further and further away from you with every interaction.  

Was it a little pathetic that you were comparing yourself to a Cursed Spirit? Maybe. But that didn't eradicate the fact that she actively kept Yuuta from doing anything with anyone – Maki was lucky to be within a five mile radius of Yuuta for training purposes.  

Rika was protective – but it wasn't that fact that bothered you. What bothered you was the fact that, unlike Rika, you weren't able to protect or be there for Yuuta in the same way that she could. You weren't nearly as strong as she was, you were a measly Third-Grade after all.  

You couldn't even keep up with your classmates – even Maki was too swift for you sometimes. Of course, there was always room to improve, but watching everyone else improve while you remained the same stung, like a fresh wound that you had just poured peroxide over.  

Even with your lack of skill, your classmates still respected you like they would any other Jujutsu Sorcerer. Maki always made sure to offer her hand to you after training with you, Panda would offer you helpful advice when you ran the track with him, hell, even Inumaki would fix your form when you practiced your Cursed Technique.  

And, of course, there was Yuuta.  

He was the one to cheer you on during training, he was the one to help you patch whatever scratches your body sustained after lessons, he was the one to crack muttered jokes to you while Gojo lectured, he was the one to cut his lunch in half on the days that you had accidentally forgotten yours in your dorm – Yuuta had been there for you since the very beginning.  

So then why did she make you as insecure as she did? 

Rika was a curse, a manifestation of negative emotions. Her sole purpose is to protect Yuuta in situations where he's incapable of protecting himself. And even then, you had only really seen her in action once – and that was when she had lost control of herself watching Maki overpower Yuuta during a physical lesson.  

You sigh to yourself, fingernails scratching against the sides of your head. A gentle sound rouses you from your thoughts, and it's then that you realize you had unintentionally started crying. You stare down at the tear marks that had fallen onto the pages of your notebook, smudging the lines and your writing.  

You lift your fingers to swipe your tears away, already feeling pathetic at the fact that you found yourself crying over an issue that you genuinely had no control over. It wasn't as if you could exorcise Rika and suddenly all of your problems would have fixed themselves.  

A knock at your dormitory door stops that thought before it can escalate.  

"(Y/N)? It's me!"  

Yuuta. 

Quickly, you swipe your palms against your eyes, no doubt leaving the skin there red and irritated. Huffing in annoyance, you wipe the end of your shirt against your eyes, praying that he wouldn't be stupid enough to point out the obvious once you opened the door.  

You stand from your desk, not bothering to push in your chair as you stride towards the door. On the other side is Yuuta, his lips pulled upward in that smile that always seemed to brighten everyone's day, no matter how dark it may have been.  

You don't say anything, already feeling guilt seep into your bones. Even with you avoiding him constantly, Yuuta still came to find you. God, you felt like such a bitch.  

"Hey," you say quietly, swallowing the waver in your voice and forcing yourself to smile at him.  

"Hey. I – uh – noticed you've been distant lately. Is everything okay? Is there anything that you want to talk about with me?" Yuuta offers softly, wringing his hands out nervously in front of him. He did that often, mainly when he spoke to Maki. It was cute to you, how nervous he was.  

"Oh," is all you manage to get out. Your eyes flicker away from his, instead watching as a group of students wander the hallways, turning the corner before vanishing from your line of sight. You know that Yuuta is still watching you expectantly, wanting you to say something but also not wanting to force you into an uncomfortable conversation.  

No time like the present, right? 

"It's a stupid issue, really. I wouldn't want to--" 

"It's not stupid if it's you (Y/N)," Yuuta cuts you off, his cheeks immediately burning a bright shade of pink. He swallows quickly, lifting his hands and waving them back and forth. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to cut you off! But it's true!" 

You stare in awe at him for a moment, your mouth dry as you stand silently in the doorframe of your dorm. Neither of you say anything for a second or two, staring at the other as if they had sprouted a second head.  

"Sorry...how about we just talk, yeah?" Yuuta offers, his lips turning upward in another one of those smiles that melts your heart.  

You nod, stepping to the side and permitting him entry. He walks past you, taking a seat on the small couch in your dormitory. He had been in there many times before, but recently, many of your little traditions had faded into nothing but little memories.  

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, tugging the skin upward before you release it just as you feel blood beginning to drip from the self-inflicted wound.  

Hesitantly, you sit on the couch beside Yuuta, lifting your legs and crossing your ankles over one another. He waits patiently for you to start talking – the last thing that he wanted was to make you uncomfortable.  

"I swear I didn't mean to be so distant," you begin. A buzzer sounds loudly in your head – liar. You continue anyway, ignoring the little nagging voice nestled in the back of your mind. "It's just, I don't know, I haven't felt great recently." 

Yuuta remains silent, his hands folded in his lap as he watches you intently. He can feel his heart clenching at your words, how had he not noticed that you were suffering before?  

"Why?" 

"Because I'm not like you or anyone else. You all are special, you're all talented in your own way. Hell, even Rika is--" 

You cut yourself off before you bite out an undeserved insult towards Rika. Your jealousy of her was strong, obviously, but you never wanted to verbalize that to Yuuta. What if then he turned his back on you too? Then you'd really be left with absolutely nothing.  

"I just don't feel like I'm supposed to be here – at Jujutsu Tech," you finally admit. Internally, you cringe at just how childish your voice sounds, how it breaks between words and shakes as you bite back the sobs that rise in your throat.  

You pause at the feeling of someone's fingers slipping into your own. Your gaze flickers down to where your hand had been resting on the couch, shocked to see that Yuuta had bravely reached out to hold your hand.  

"You do belong here (Y/N). You're just as good a sorcerer as any of the rest of us, if not better. I mean, who else could take on Inumaki in a fight and stand a chance?" 

Your lips quirk apprehensively into a smile. Yuuta smiles at the sight of it, his eyes crinkling at the corners as his fingers momentarily squeeze your own.  

"I've always thought that you were the strongest," Yuuta whispers, talking as if he's sharing a secret that he wants only you to hear. Your cheeks heat at his words, eyes widening slightly.  

"Really?" 

Yuuta nods happily, squeezing your fingers again. "Yeah." 

You find yourself smiling at him, feeling your heart warm at his sentiment. Suddenly, every single negative comment you had ever uttered to yourself fades into the void – replaced instead by the warmth that Yuuta's words had provided you.  

"And I've always love-" Yuuta cuts himself off, pressing his lips together into a firm line before he's able to finish. You glance upward, already feeling your heart sink at the sight of Rika hovering behind Yuuta, her clawed hand resting on his shoulder. It feels like she's tempting him to finish, wanting to have an excuse to begin screaming and throwing a tantrum. 

You retract your hand from Yuuta's grip, but amazingly, he reaches for you again. For the first time, he ignores the curse behind him, keeping his focus solely on you. Only you. 

"Yuuta-" 

"I've always loved you (Y/N). And I hate to hear you say that you think you aren't as strong as the rest of us because in all honesty, you're stronger than any of us could ever be," Yuuta explains, wincing as he feels Rika claw into his shoulder, but he continues to ignore her presence.  

"If it wasn't for you, I don't think that any of us would be where we are right now." 

Weirdly enough, you feel yourself tearing up at Yuuta's words, the burning sensation of tears blurring your vision, obscuring your view of Yuuta. He smiles at you, using his other hand to brush away the tears that just barely cling to your bottom lash line.  

He opens his arms to you, smiling as you shift into them, pressing your face into his shoulder and allowing yourself to be wrapped in the warmth of his embrace.  

"Thank you," you whisper, your voice caught by the fabric of his shirt, but he hears you all the same.  

"You don't need to thank me for anything." 

Just a random, domestic scenario that I thought of about Astarion and it made me soft enough to put into writing.

Picture this …

Astarion, especially after everything that he’s been through with Cazador, definitely has to re-teach himself what it means to love without primarily focusing on physical intimacy. Everything that he’s ever known about loving someone, or rather, everything that he thought that he knew about loving someone is restricted solely to sex.

Of course, his understanding of love drastically changes when you waltz into his life. You with your words of affirmation, you with your soft hands, you with the hugs and kisses that don’t necessarily lead to something more. It strikes him as odd … why is it that you saw past his body and looked at him? Really, truly looked at him.

In the beginning, it scares him. It invokes a feeling in him that he wasn’t able to define, and in truth, it scared him. It scared him that every time your arms wrapped around him or every time your lips touched his, he felt warm. For a second, for one singular split second, Astarion felt alive.

And because of that, he pushed you away. It scared him even more when you actually let him.

“We don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with,” you’d told him one night. You were sitting up beside him, his head resting beside your thigh while his eyes stared up at the flickering night sky. “I have no problem waiting for you.”

And wait for him you did. Never once did you pressure him into anything, never once did you make him feel as if your touch was anything but comforting — you didn’t want him to revert back to the mindset that he had become so accustomed to. When he reached for you, you did the same. And if he didn’t, you never grew angry with him.

For that, he was thankful.

All of your waiting comes to a head one night at the camp’s fire. As usual, you sit at Astarion’s side, both of you sitting in a comfortable silence. His fingers itch to hold yours, but he wills himself to stay completely still — even though he wants to hold and touch you, something in him roots him to his place, preventing it.

“Astarion?” He turns at the sound of your voice, blinking away the glazed look that had pained his eyes in favor of looking at you instead. Your eyebrows pinch together, creasing the space between your eyes. “Are you alright love?”

“Fine,” he answers, voice dead and cold. You hum, nodding your head, not prying any further. Even though he certainly doesn’t want to speak about what plagues his mind, a small part of him also wished that you would pry — likely because he knew that eventually, he would crack.

But you don’t. Because you understand the possibility that he would shut himself away further, retreating back to a place where you might not be able to reach him. “Alright, but if something is bothering you, you know that I am here for you.”

“That’s what … scares me,” Astarion whispers, his voice barely audible over the crackle of the camp’s fire. You turn your head to him, gaze catching his profile, silently waiting for him to continue. “Why do you stay … knowing that what you give isn’t reciprocated?”

His question catches you off guard. Was that what was bothering him? His inability to reciprocate the love that you so easily gave to him? Your heart sinks, eyes softening as you angle yourself to look at Astarion fully. The intensity of your gaze makes him feel as if you’re looking through him — through the flirtatious facade that he had put up constantly and seeing Astarion. Seeing ‘Little Star.’

Your silence worries him; makes him feel as if what he had asked you was wrong. Your lips are pressed into a firm, thin line with your eyes focused so intently on his own. Astarion feels as if you’re analyzing him … judging him. But you’re not, and he knows that you’re not.

“Because I don’t do the things that I do expecting it to be reciprocated,” you answer easily, allowing your lips to turn upward into a soft smile. A smile that begins to melt away the iceberg of worry nestled somewhere in Astarion’s chest. You inhale deeply, holding your hand up with your palm facing Astarion. “Here, if you’re okay with it, I want you to lay your palm against mine.”

Astarion’s eyes narrow, confused. His gaze flickers between your upheld palm and your eyes, which hold no ounce of malice or ill intent. Hesitantly, and very slowly, he lifts his palm. And slowly, very slowly, he brings it towards your own, laying it flat against yours.

Shockingly, the touch doesn’t burn. It doesn’t leave behind a searing scar that he would look at with distaste. Instead, it fills him with a comfortable warmth, one that reinforces the genuine love that you feel for him. The love that extends far beyond physical intimacy, far beyond sex — far beyond anything that Astarion had ever experienced.

“Something as small as this,” you say, not moving your palm from against Astarion’s, “is enough reciprocation for everything.”

He remains silent, watching you. You smile, and as if running on autopilot, he returns it.

Tell Me!

In which you don’t tell the JJK men that you’re injured.

Requested? : Yes / No

Includes : Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Ino, Toji, Shiu, Sukuna, Megumi, Choso, Itadori

Feel free to leave requests for future SMAUs!

back to me

pairing - bucky barnes x !hydra experiment! reader

sypnosis - the void isn't a very easy thing to pry yourself from.

warning(s) - spoilers for thunderbolts*, mature themes, foul language, canon marvel violence, mention of human experimentation, trauma, reader is lowkey bucky but in a diff font

author note - the only specific thing about the reader is that she's an ex hydra experiment who was called 'grim wolf'.

playlist - we hug now : sydney rose fake plastic tears : radiohead take aim : sleep token

also please give me bucky requests, the obsession from 13 is coming back and i need to be normal.

word count - 0.7k

what the hell was this?

one minute you had been following yelena to get bob back, half-listening to bucky and alexei yelling over your shoulder, and the next, you were back in that godawful room.

the one with sterile lights and a low hum that you still heard in your nightmares.

you exhale quietly, walking into the room, ignoring the churning in your gut and the way that your stomach whispered, "i have a bad feeling about this."

the doctors surrounding your body muttered things in russian to one another, some of them looking you over with interest while a select few licked their lips and not-so-secretly palmed at themselves. a grimace contorts your face as you watch - an audience member to your own traumas.

you hesitantly step closer, seeing now the version of you that you had spent so many nights trying to forget; the one who acted on someone else's thoughts, the one who was an uncaged animal, the one who killed without thinking of who it was first.

the one who had almost killed the people that would eventually become family.

teeth sink down into your bottom lip, drawing a thin line of blood that manages to keep you grounded. the first needle goes in, past you screams.

you wince, brows pinching as you watch the younger you thrash and beg - stringing together words that are barely cohearent over the rushed talking of the doctors. you watch as the younger you begs and pleads and cries, but how no one listens.

your heart pounds against your ribcage, thundering beneath your skin and reveberating against the shell of your ears. your hands curl inward, fists turning white from the pressure that you apply to yourself.

"let me go, please!" younger you begs, voice cracking and body trembling as realization begins to sink in. the doctors don't listen, and as the second needle goes in, you turn away.

-- --

it's not until later that night that bucky notices someting off about you; your shoulders are slumped, your voice sounds tired, and your eyes aren't entirely focused on any one thing in particular.

you weren't really there ... for lack of a better way to put it.

only after the others went to bed did bucky approach you, catching you in the kitchen with a shot of whiskey in front of you. you hadn't drank since the final battle against thanos.

he watches you for a minute, just taking you in. the slump to your body, the unshed tears in your eyes, the pain and hurt that radiated off of you.

"you're staring," you say, placing down your glass with a clink. bucky chuckles, entering the kitchen and sitting down at the kitchen island beside you. "hi."

"hey, doll," bucky responds, taking the glass as you offer it to him and taking a sip from it. you smile softly at him, taking the glass back and placing it down. "you okay?"

"fine." you don't mean to sound as harsh as you do, but being asked if you were okay was honestly the last thing that you wanted. but you didn't know what okay meant, you never did, and you honestly never would.

bucky pauses, tilting his head at you and exhaling softly. one hand cradles your face, tilting it upward so that softened blue could meet (e/c). his eyes roam over your face, taking in everything down to the crease between your eyebrows.

"doll -"

"bucky."

he stops again, glancing at you ... no, looking at you.

the tears in your eyes, the part of your lips, the wrinkle to your forehead, the slight quiver to your chin. you were breaking at the seams, now he could see that.

so he does something about it.

one warm arm and one cool one wraps around you, pulling you forward slightly so that he could properly hold you. you don't protest, sliding into his arms and pressing your forehead against his shoulder. vibranium rubs comfortingly against your back, bucky's cheek coming to rest on the side of your head.

"i've got you."

you close your eyes, whimpering silently but letting yourself be held. bucky doesn't say anything, doesn't try to reassure you with words that wouldn't do anything. he holds you, cradles you.

and maybe you wouldn't ever know what it meant to be okay. but right now, in his arms ...

... you did feel okay.

Baby, what?!

In which you shoot at them to prove a point!

Requested? Yes / No

Includes : Gojo, Sukuna, Toji, Shiu

A/N - Sorry for vanishing on y’all. College sucks; yada yada. Leave me some SMAU requests ‘cause I love seeing everyone’s ideas!

Starry Night

Sypnosis - Sitting together on a starry night...what could possibly be wrong with that picture perfect scenario?

Pairing - Satosugu x ! Female ! Reader

Warning(s) - mature themes

Word Count - 0.7k

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

"'Toru? What are you still doing up?"  

The sitting man jolts, his eyes flickering to you, their bright hue dimming as you cautiously enter the living room, draped in one of his shirts. His legs spread, palms patting once, twice against his thigh in a silent invitation for you – one that you accept without hesitation.  

Your head tucks into the crook of Satoru's neck, nose inhaling his scent and committing it to memory – a pleasant mixture of sandalwood and the Earth. To you, it was comfort, it was a reminder of the home that you had built with him and Suguru.  

"The stars are nice tonight, aren't they?" Satoru comments, his arms looping around your waist, holding you against him and tilting his head to rest his cheek against your hair. You hum against him, eyes flickering to the window.  

Painted against the inky black sky are the stars that you and Satoru often watched together, laid out on a blanket on the front lawn and pointing up at them as if you had never seen them before. It was always cold during those nights, which usually resulted in Satoru tugging you against his chest, your body molding against his like a perfect little puzzle piece.  

You two would lay there for hours, simply basking in the other's presence and staring up at the flickering yellow lights that adorned the sky. Both of your trances were only broken by Suguru's softened voice, scolding you both for being out so late and commenting how you would both likely be sick by morning.  

Only then would Satoru roll up the blanket, helping you stand with gentle hands and allowing you to make your way back to the front door first. Softened aquamarine eyes watch as you beeline for Suguru's opened arms, hugging the raven-haired man and smiling brightly as gentle kisses are laid out over your face.  

"Yeah, they're nice," you mutter offhandedly, biting back the yawn that claws up your throat. Your nose scrunches up, an action that Satoru once teased you for – though he stopped once he received a loving smack from Suguru, one paired with a gentle scolding.  

Satoru hums, his eyes fluttering shut at the warmth that radiates from your body. Your breathing had deepened significantly, a telltale sign that you had fallen asleep against him – likely lulled by the gentle thump of his heart and the even rise and fall of his chest.  

He tilts his head, pressing a gentle kiss against the crown of your head and looping his arms underneath you, lifting you against his chest and standing from the armchair. He couldn't have his darling wife sleep in such an uncomfortable position – you deserved much better than that.  

Satoru walks silently to your bedroom, closing the door with his foot and gently laying you down in the sheets, tugging them around you and smiling gently as you adjust yourself. A content sight falls from your nose, cheek smushed against your pillow as you doze.  

He climbs in beside you, tucking you against his chest and tangling his legs with your own. He blinks once, twice...then allows his tired eyes to finally close, welcoming sleep as it beckons to him with softened hands – hands that felt oddly similar to your own. 

And somewhere across the way, resting on numbed legs and rubbing together cold hands, another pair of eyes watches the stars as they glitter in the night sky. He thinks back to a time where he would have enjoyed the stars – maybe even admired their bright yellow hue.  

But that time is not now, and it is a time that he knows he can never go back to – not after what was said and what was done. Besides, he knew it was for the better. His departure from a domestic life was challenging...he had lost count of the tears that he had shed.  

Tonight was one of those nights where he longed for the warmth of a bed, he longed for those two familiar bodies pressed against his own. He longed for the mornings where he would only half-listen to Frank Sinatra and watch as breakfast was prepared for him. He longed for the two people who had shown him endless care and support...but those two people were nothing but a pained memory.  

Tilting his head up at the stars and at the crescent moon, shaky lips turn upward in a smile – one accompanied by salty tears that drip down his cheeks. His mind flashes images of those he longed for; one with snowy-white hair and the other with the kindest smile.  

"The stars are nice tonight, aren't they?" Suguru mutters to himself, hoping that somehow – someway – maybe you and Satoru would hear him. 

I really love your writing and smaus :) how do you think the jjk guys would react/care to reader being sick/injured and hiding it from them/acting strong?

I apologize in advance to any Choso fans…

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Tell Me!

In which you don’t tell the JJK men that you’re injured. Requested? : Yes / No Includes : Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Ino, Toji, Shiu, Sukuna, Meg

Astarion, once he's comfortable with you, is definitely the type of man to sleepily reach for you when he realizes that you've rolled out of his arms at night.

Like the moment, and I mean the moment, that he doesn't feel you wrapped up in his arms, he's up. Sure, he's groggy as all hell and he can't properly see anything around him -- but all he knows is that he's not holding you when he most definitely should be.

He'll push himself up onto his elbows, squinting to see that you've turned yourself away from him and rolled out of his arms. Your back is turned to him, but he knows that it wasn't intentional.

With a fanged yawn, Astarion reaches for you again. His arms loop around your waist and turn you around, tucking your head beneath his chin. Instinctively, your legs tangle with his own, your arms adjusting to wrap around his midsection.

He grins to himself, content again.