waking up to find jason asleep on top of you. part of you feels bad cause he’s tired. but mostly he just wants to keep you in bed, with whatever necessary method.
it’s past noon when you wake up to jason laying with his head on your chest. his face literally buried between your breasts like it’s a pillow. snoring softly as though completely content.
you probably wouldn’t have woke up if it hadn’t been for the blinds being open because his weight over you just felt like a blanket. warm and inviting. his suit still on him like he just collapsed here somehow and his huge arms resting beside your head. watching the rise and fall of his back since his chest was to your stomach and the soft ruffle of his hair, you smile to yourself.
when you finally try to get up, he’s not budging even a smidge. if anything, he seems to get heavier, and he doesn’t make a sound still completely asleep. but you know he sleeps at odd hours and lord knows when he got home and collapsed on your sleep-ridden form.
fine, you think to yourself, i’ll give him another ten minutes.
though ten turns into twenty and now it’s 1pm. you shake him a little harder and groan out his name.
“jason, get up. you’re crushing me.”
he mumbles something against your chest and rubs his face there before turns it to the side. hands spanning around your waist to keep you from squirming further.
you groan a little louder and laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. “half the day is gone and you’re here suffocating me.”
that’s when he lifts his head to look at you. sleep heavy on his eyelids and a soft pink to his cheeks from pressing his face to the fabric of your clothes. the soft imprint of your ribbed shirt against his skin.
“you aren’t suffocating if you can talk ma.”
squinting down at his stupidly attractive face, you shake your head, “don’t be a smartass.” suddenly able to see the drool he left on your shirt you grimace with no malice. “ugh you got spit all over me you gremlin.”
he laughs aloud and pinches your side to make you jolt. “what this? it’s just drool.”
“same shit as spit.”
then he smiles, “no, spit is when i’m intentionally doing it. drool is mindless. see, i just love your tits even in my sleep.”
he leans over and bites you through your shirt. since you don’t wear a bra to sleep, you feel the press of his teeth completely and it makes you jolt and gasp again. you shove at his head and he just catches your wrists, still smiling at you.
the domesticated annoyance melts into something even more tender as his eyes seem to sparkle up at you. like he’s drinking in the sight of you like this but not consciously doing it. as though he could burn this memory into his soul and not flinch when his flesh form remembers.
you feel yourself fall into him when he raises your shirt over his head and ducks underneath.
“what’re you doing?” giggling as he presses wet kisses onto your abdomen. taking small bites enough to leave a little indent but not to break skin.
“shh it’s sunday baby.” he coos, “this is worship time.”
you’re still laughing and he’s making it up the valley of your breasts, bringing a hand under your shirt too. he gropes one of your breasts while the other takes familiarity in his mouth. suckling and moaning as though this was the best thing to ever happen to him. a laugh turns into a moan before you can stop it.
“shit— jay, i gotta study, come on.” you sigh but you really didn’t want him to move.
luckily he doesn’t because you don’t seem to stop him. he pulls your shirt up higher as higher until it comes off from over your head. unable to help it, your hands go into his hair and hold him there, humming as he groans against your skin. your back arches off the mattress and he decidedly perches you up a little higher with his hand slithering up your spine, stopping between your shoulders blades. bringing your chest closer to his mouth by pressing you right into him. he moans egregiously and sucks in pulses, making the most delicious pressure. he takes the opportunity to bite the flesh again. leaving teeth marks on your breast beside the reddish purple marks that were already forming.
he was purposefully giving you hickeys.
breathing through your teeth as you feel the graze of teeth a little harder, biting down and tonguing at you at the same time. when you tug at his hair, that’s enough for him to moan at the feeling and he looks up at you again, gauging your reaction.
when you finally get a look at your chest, it looked like you’d been punched by a bunch of little fists. shades of the galaxy—purple and blues with hints of red surfacing. you scoff and look at him. jason looks entirely sorry, his bottom lip sideways and his brows pressed low.
“oopsies baby i just meant to put a couple on there—”
you cut him off, “just a couple? i look like i’ve been beat up. oh my god, someone is gonna think i got jumped.”
he blinks and his expression falls, “who else sees your boobs?”
“no one?” you shove him but he just falls back ontop of you as if his bottom half wasn’t already slotted between your legs. regardless of what you’d just said, he’s still nuzzling into your skin like none of it mattered.
“good then. it’s my canvas.” he hums as he settles on the plush part in contentment. “five more minutes.”
you sigh, “three.”
“ten. and i’ll make you pancakes.”
pretending to think as your hands find their way into the hair at the nape of his neck again, he makes a small sound of approval. you use it to coax him more.
“eight and you have to make coffee too.”
he lifts his head so he’s face to face with you and squints before he pecks your lips. “i was gonna do that anyways.”
just as quickly as he got up, he settled back into the position he’s kept you in. though sleep tugged at you as the lazy sunday took full effect on more than just jason. and even though you debated him on how long you’d stay pliant under him, you both knew you could stay there forever.
waking up to find jason asleep on top of you. part of you feels bad cause he’s tired. but mostly he just wants to keep you in bed, with whatever necessary method.
it’s past noon when you wake up to jason laying with his head on your chest. his face literally buried between your breasts like it’s a pillow. snoring softly as though completely content.
you probably wouldn’t have woke up if it hadn’t been for the blinds being open because his weight over you just felt like a blanket. warm and inviting. his suit still on him like he just collapsed here somehow and his huge arms resting beside your head. watching the rise and fall of his back since his chest was to your stomach and the soft ruffle of his hair, you smile to yourself.
when you finally try to get up, he’s not budging even a smidge. if anything, he seems to get heavier, and he doesn’t make a sound still completely asleep. but you know he sleeps at odd hours and lord knows when he got home and collapsed on your sleep-ridden form.
fine, you think to yourself, i’ll give him another ten minutes.
though ten turns into twenty and now it’s 1pm. you shake him a little harder and groan out his name.
“jason, get up. you’re crushing me.”
he mumbles something against your chest and rubs his face there before turns it to the side. hands spanning around your waist to keep you from squirming further.
you groan a little louder and laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. “half the day is gone and you’re here suffocating me.”
that’s when he lifts his head to look at you. sleep heavy on his eyelids and a soft pink to his cheeks from pressing his face to the fabric of your clothes. the soft imprint of your ribbed shirt against his skin.
“you aren’t suffocating if you can talk ma.”
squinting down at his stupidly attractive face, you shake your head, “don’t be a smartass.” suddenly able to see the drool he left on your shirt you grimace with no malice. “ugh you got spit all over me you gremlin.”
he laughs aloud and pinches your side to make you jolt. “what this? it’s just drool.”
“same shit as spit.”
then he smiles, “no, spit is when i’m intentionally doing it. drool is mindless. see, i just love your tits even in my sleep.”
he leans over and bites you through your shirt. since you don’t wear a bra to sleep, you feel the press of his teeth completely and it makes you jolt and gasp again. you shove at his head and he just catches your wrists, still smiling at you.
the domesticated annoyance melts into something even more tender as his eyes seem to sparkle up at you. like he’s drinking in the sight of you like this but not consciously doing it. as though he could burn this memory into his soul and not flinch when his flesh form remembers.
you feel yourself fall into him when he raises your shirt over his head and ducks underneath.
“what’re you doing?” giggling as he presses wet kisses onto your abdomen. taking small bites enough to leave a little indent but not to break skin.
“shh it’s sunday baby.” he coos, “this is worship time.”
you’re still laughing and he’s making it up the valley of your breasts, bringing a hand under your shirt too. he gropes one of your breasts while the other takes familiarity in his mouth. suckling and moaning as though this was the best thing to ever happen to him. a laugh turns into a moan before you can stop it.
“shit— jay, i gotta study, come on.” you sigh but you really didn’t want him to move.
luckily he doesn’t because you don’t seem to stop him. he pulls your shirt up higher as higher until it comes off from over your head. unable to help it, your hands go into his hair and hold him there, humming as he groans against your skin. your back arches off the mattress and he decidedly perches you up a little higher with his hand slithering up your spine, stopping between your shoulders blades. bringing your chest closer to his mouth by pressing you right into him. he moans egregiously and sucks in pulses, making the most delicious pressure. he takes the opportunity to bite the flesh again. leaving teeth marks on your breast beside the reddish purple marks that were already forming.
he was purposefully giving you hickeys.
breathing through your teeth as you feel the graze of teeth a little harder, biting down and tonguing at you at the same time. when you tug at his hair, that’s enough for him to moan at the feeling and he looks up at you again, gauging your reaction.
when you finally get a look at your chest, it looked like you’d been punched by a bunch of little fists. shades of the galaxy—purple and blues with hints of red surfacing. you scoff and look at him. jason looks entirely sorry, his bottom lip sideways and his brows pressed low.
“oopsies baby i just meant to put a couple on there—”
you cut him off, “just a couple? i look like i’ve been beat up. oh my god, someone is gonna think i got jumped.”
he blinks and his expression falls, “who else sees your boobs?”
“no one?” you shove him but he just falls back ontop of you as if his bottom half wasn’t already slotted between your legs. regardless of what you’d just said, he’s still nuzzling into your skin like none of it mattered.
“good then. it’s my canvas.” he hums as he settles on the plush part in contentment. “five more minutes.”
you sigh, “three.”
“ten. and i’ll make you pancakes.”
pretending to think as your hands find their way into the hair at the nape of his neck again, he makes a small sound of approval. you use it to coax him more.
“eight and you have to make coffee too.”
he lifts his head so he’s face to face with you and squints before he pecks your lips. “i was gonna do that anyways.”
just as quickly as he got up, he settled back into the position he’s kept you in. though sleep tugged at you as the lazy sunday took full effect on more than just jason. and even though you debated him on how long you’d stay pliant under him, you both knew you could stay there forever.
"baby... s'okay" you coo at him, trying to speed up the process a bit.
he's on top of you, his eyes fluttering shut as he relishes in the sensation of you wrapped around his length, taking all of him. he's trying his absolute hardest not to bust right here, especially because he just bottomed out.
"i- i cant-" he takes strangled breaths, shaking his head and letting it fall down to rest on your bare chest. your hand instinctively comes up to meet him, running your fingers through his inky black hair. he leans into the contact.
"jay, im sure you won't cum if you just move a little" you try to bargain with him, the feeling of him just sitting inside you instead of pistoning in and out of you is becoming increasingly frustrating.
he wasn't even gone that long! maybe a month at most. some mission he was dragged away on. not a day went by that he didn't call or text you, going on and on about how much he missed you! how he wished it was your hand instead of his fucking his dick raw every night.
"y-you don't get it, baby..." he licks his lips, looking down at where the two of you are connected, then back up at your impatient face. "i jus- jus missed you so fucking much" he complains, leaning his head down to press soft, gentle kisses to your forehead, your eyelid, the tip of your nose, your cheek, and anywhere else he could reach.
you have to take your bottom lip in between your teeth in order to hold back a smirk. you've never seen him this pathetic.
you experimentally roll your hips against his. he lets out a loud groan, "fuck!" he reaches a hand down to grip your hip hard enough to bruise, his other hand staying at its position on the bed beside your head. "don't fucking- mfph!" he tries not to focus on just how tight and warm and wet you are compared to his hand.
you wince at his iron clutch on your hip. "jason!" you whine, "just move baby, please" you pout, looking up at him through your eyelashes.
he meets your gaze, "angel-" he whimpers, his head falling back down. you don't miss the feeling of wetness against your bare skin. is he seriously crying?
"honey..." you purr, "it's okay, i know you missed me" you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, making his breath hitch. "you've been so neglected, huh?" you ask patronizingly. he nods.
your sweet, soothing words are enough to make his balls tighten, sending him over the edge. who knew all it took was just a few words to make jason todd cum?
he lets out a soft, muffled moan against your skin as his hips buck into you, spilling warm sticky release deeeep inside of you.
"f-fuck!" he whimpers. he feels overwhelming embarrassment, lifting his head to look at you, tears still falling down his flushed cheeks. "m'sorry honey, m'so sorry" he shakes his head, hand traveling to the back of your head to bring it to rest in his palm.
you can't help but huff a laugh, "don't be sorry..." you speak gently. "we can go again, yeah?"
frustration is an understatement, but it's how satoru gojo felt when you had shyly pulled away from a kiss for the umpteenth time.
of course, satoru loved you to the moon and back! you were his beautiful girl, but damn it were you shy. it was almost like a routine between the two of you. you'd get comfortable, then would be too nervous to press your lips against his without him initiating it. and if he was being honest, it hurt.
you acted like his touch burned most of the time. satoru would offer his hand for you to hold when passing large crowds and the most you would do was hold his pinky with yours.
so, being the amazing boyfriend he was, he was going to help you.
"just keep yours eyes on me, sweets." he coo'ed, carefully slipping in his cock inch by inch. "c'mon, we agreed on working on eye contact today." he reminded.
"I know.." you whimpered, slowly opening you eyes back again, staring into his deep blue ones. satoru's eyes flickered down at your entrance, clearly struggling in welcoming in his length. "you're doing so good." he leaned down to kiss your forehead. "just keep your eyes on me."
after a few minutes, he bottomed out. his hands were holding onto your waist, bringing you closer to him. "feels big.." you gasped when he slipped all the way out before pounding back in.
"that's cuz it is big, baby." he relished in the way tears formed at the corners of your eyes, nails scraping at his biceps. "you can take it though."
"sato!" you screamed, fluttering your eyes close. and satoru? he was absolutely eating this up. for the first time, you weren't afraid to be loud with your moans. “hey you’re being louder than usual. good!” he chirped. the bastard had the audacity to smile so sweetly down at you all while he was fucking you like he hated you.
satoru moved your legs to rest on his shoulders, allowing him to hit deeper. that’s when he saw it, the bulge on your tummy. "look at that.. give me your hand." he reached it, putting it down on your stomach. "you feel me? taking me so well, fuck, you're a good girl."
you saw through your tears how proud he was. bright smile looking down at you as if you just hung the stars.
satoru has never felt more proud of himself, deciding that pda was the next big step. the pinky holding turned into holding hands wether it be at the mall or a friend hang out. but of course, he couldn't help himself when he pulled away to drag your hand onto his growing bulge.
“i don’t think this is pda..” your voice was barely a whisper as your hand made its way to wrap itself around the base of his cock which was twitching like crazy, having its own pulse.
“public display of affection.. jerking me off is in that category” he bit his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, being careful as to not let any sound out. the last thing he wanted was to get caught by his friends sitting across from the two of you in a restaurant. “yes fuck..” gojo grumbled under his breath feeling your hand pick up the pace.
your eyes were set on the menu in front of you, trying to force yourself to focus on anything other than the pretty sight underneath the table.
“close.. so close..” gojo gripped the edge of his seat, cock twitching violently before shooting out his orgasm. he discreetly handed a towel under the table for you, leaning in to kiss your temple. “you’ve gotten so brave, my love.”
a soft smile appeared on your lips. "thank you babe." you returned the kiss, placing it on his flushed cheek.
the intimate moment was ruined by a gagging suguru. “hey who the fuck nutted on my shoe?!”
Okay but regular Jason just always having his gun on him is so hot to me
Like you guys at grocery shopping and he’ll reach up to grab something and your eyes widen immediately when you’re flashed by the Glock that he keeps tucked in the back of his waistband
Or say you guys get home from dinner and things get a little heated but before he climbs on top of you fully he makes sure to untuck the gun and carefully put it down LIKE RIGHT BESIDE YOUR HEAD- *gunshots*
bf!jason does notttt play ab gun safety like he keeps it on him but literally he keeps only one bullet in the chamber and the safety on because he doesn't need to be shooting people as a civilian. also he def laughs at how shocked you get every time you see the outline of it
synopsis. Gojo Satoru is the strongest sorcerer in the world. But when morning comes, he's just a man who refuses to let his wife leave the bed. Not because he's lazy (he is), but because her warmth is the only thing that makes waking up worth it.
pairing. gojo satoru x f!reader
content & warnings. pure fluff, established relationship (married), super clingy and whiny gojo, messy hair agenda, soft morning cuddles, maybe a little tooth-rotting ♪(´▽｀)
word count. 2.7k+
A/N. mama has been busy, late post !! 〒▽〒
The first thing you registered was warmth.
Not the kind from the heater or the sun filtering through the curtains. No, this was him — all six-foot-three of him, wrapped around you like an octopus who had decided you were his favorite rock.
Satoru's arm was draped across your waist, heavy and unyielding. His legs were tangled with yours beneath the mountain of blankets he'd hoarded sometime during the night. His face was buried in the curve of your neck, his breath warm and slow against your skin.
And his hair.
Oh, his hair.
The iconic white locks that usually fell in perfect, effortless waves were now a complete disaster. It stuck up in every direction — flattened on one side from the pillow, sticking out wildly on the other like he'd been electrocuted sometime around 2 AM. A few strands had fallen across his face, and he'd clearly been too deep in sleep to care.
You smiled softly, your heart squeezing in that familiar, painful way it always did when you looked at him like this. Unprotected. Unbothered. Yours.
Slowly, carefully, you tried to shift your weight.
Big mistake.
Satoru's arm tightened around you immediately, pulling you back against his chest with a strength that reminded you — not that you'd ever forgotten — exactly who you'd married.
"Mmm," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. "No."
"Good morning to you too," you whispered.
"Not morning yet."
"It's 8:30."
"That's the middle of the night."
You laughed softly, reaching down to brush your fingers against his wrist. "Satoru, I have things to do."
"The things can wait."
"They're important things."
He lifted his head just enough to crack one eye open — still half-lidded, still hazy with sleep, but sharp enough to pin you in place. That one visible eye, the color of the sky just before dawn, stared at you with an intensity that made your stomach flip.
"More important than me?" he asked, his voice still raspy.
You paused. "That's not fair."
"I'm not playing fair." He buried his face back in your neck, his nose cold against your skin. "I'm playing stay. I always win at stay."
"You made that game up."
"Doesn't make me any less good at it."
You sighed, but you were smiling. You couldn't help it. This was the same man who had stared down curses that would make seasoned sorcerers weep. The same man who had faced death with a laugh and walked away unscathed. The same man who had stood in front of you on your wedding day, blindfold nowhere to be seen, looking at you like you were the only real thing in the world.
And now he was whining about you getting out of bed.
Some things never changed.
"I really do need to get up," you tried again, attempting to peel his arm off your waist.
He responded by wrapping his other arm around you too, effectively caging you in. His legs shifted, hooking around yours like he was building a human fortress. You were pinned. Completely, utterly, hopelessly pinned.
"You're being dramatic," you informed him.
"I'm being efficient," he corrected, his lips brushing against your shoulder. "This is the only way to keep you here."
"There's nothing efficient about this. You're just clingy."
"Clingy implies a lack of purpose. I have a purpose." He pressed a kiss to your shoulder — soft, almost unconscious, like he wasn't even aware he was doing it. "My purpose is keeping my wife in bed where she belongs."
"She belongs out of bed. Living her life. Doing things."
"You can live your life right here." He tightened his arms. "This is life. Peak life. The best life."
"Satoru."
"Satoru loves you," he mumbled. "Satoru thinks you're warm. Satoru doesn't want you to leave."
You bit your lip to keep from smiling too wide. "Are you speaking in third person now?"
"I'm speaking in whatever it takes."
You felt him yawn against your skin, his jaw cracking slightly, and the sound was so endearingly human that your heart ached. This was Gojo Satoru — the strongest, the most untouchable, the man who carried the world on his shoulders without ever seeming to feel the weight.
But right now, he was just your husband. The one who ran hot at night and stole all the blankets. The one who mumbled nonsense in his sleep and always, always reached for you before he was fully awake.
"Ten more minutes," you bargained.
"An hour."
"Fifteen minutes."
"Forty-five."
"Twenty, final offer."
He was quiet for a moment, and you thought maybe — maybe — he'd fallen back asleep. But then he shifted, pulling you even closer until your back was flush against his chest, his chin resting on top of your head.
"The world can wait," he murmured, his voice soft and sleepy. "Just... ten more minutes of this."
Your resolve crumbled.
"Fine," you whispered. "Ten more minutes."
He hummed in satisfaction, his arms relaxing just slightly — just enough to be comfortable, never enough to let you go.
"Love you," he breathed.
"Love you too."
"Love you more."
"That's not how love works."
"Don't care. Still true."
You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the warmth of him. The blankets were soft. The morning light was gentle. And Satoru's heartbeat — steady, rhythmic, alive — was the only sound you needed to hear.
Twenty-three minutes later, you were still there.
Not that you were counting.
(You were counting. You'd counted every single minute, and you'd let him have every single one.)
"I can feel you thinking," he said suddenly, his voice still rough from sleep.
"You can feel me thinking?"
"I'm very perceptive."
"You're very nosey."
"Same thing."
You laughed — a real laugh, the kind that shook your shoulders and made his arms tighten around you instinctively. "I need to go, Satoru. The world is calling."
"The world is overrated."
"The world pays our bills."
"The world can pay them later."
You turned in his arms — an awkward shuffle that involved a lot of squirming and a displeased grunt from your husband — until you were facing him. His eyes were still half-closed, his white hair an absolute disaster, and there was a pillow crease on his cheek.
He was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen.
"Hi," you said softly.
"Hi," he said back, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Your hair is a mess."
"Your hair is also a mess."
"It's your fault. You were using it as a pillow."
"It's a very comfortable pillow. You should be flattered."
You reached up, brushing the wild strands away from his forehead. His eyes fluttered shut at the touch, and for a moment — just a moment — he looked so young. So unburdened. So safe.
"I really do have to go," you said quietly.
"I know."
But he didn't let go.
Neither of you moved.
Then, slowly — reluctantly — his arms loosened. Just a little. Just enough.
"Go," he said, but his voice was thick. "Before I change my mind."
You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Soft. Lingering.
"I'll make breakfast," you promised.
His eyes cracked open again. "What kind of breakfast?"
"What kind do you want?"
"The kind where you come back to bed after."
You laughed, shaking your head. "Nice try."
"Worth a shot."
You slipped out from under his arms — a careful, practiced escape that you'd perfected over months of marriage — and stood up. The morning air was cooler without his warmth, and you immediately missed it.
Satoru groaned, rolling onto his back and throwing an arm over his eyes. The blankets had slipped down to his waist, revealing the bare expanse of his chest, and his hair was spread across the pillow like a white halo.
"You're staring," he said, not moving his arm.
"I'm not."
"You absolutely are. I can feel it. My wife is ogling me."
"Your wife is leaving."
"Your husband is suffering."
You grabbed his hoodie from the back of the chair — the one he'd left there last night, the one that smelled like him — and pulled it over your head. It fell to your mid-thigh, swallowing you whole.
Satoru lifted his arm just enough to peek at you.
"You're stealing my clothes," he observed.
"I'm borrowing your clothes."
"With intent to return?"
"...Debatable."
He dropped his arm back over his eyes, but you could see the smile spreading across his face. "I love you. You know that, right?"
"Yeah." You walked over to his side of the bed, leaning down to press another kiss — this time to his lips. Soft. Simple. A promise. "I know."
He caught your hand before you could pull away, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. His eyes — both of them now, open and bright and so impossibly blue — looked up at you.
"Ten more minutes wasn't enough," he said quietly.
"It never is."
"Then stay longer next time."
You smiled. "Maybe I will."
And even as you walked out of the bedroom toward the kitchen, you could feel his gaze following you. Warm. Devoted. Endless.
Somewhere behind you, you heard him sigh — content, happy, utterly, ridiculously in love.
"Married," he muttered to himself. "I'm married. To the most beautiful woman in the world. How did I get this lucky?"
You didn't answer.
But you were smiling so wide your cheeks hurt.
Breakfast was half-finished when you felt arms wrap around your waist from behind.
Satoru's chin dropped onto your shoulder, and you could feel his breath warm against your ear.
"You're supposed to be in bed," you said, not looking up from the stove.
"Couldn't sleep."
"Couldn't, or wouldn't?"
"Same thing."
You felt him press a kiss to your shoulder — then another, higher up on your neck, then another just below your ear.
"Satoru."
"Satoru loves you," he mumbled against your skin. "Satoru wants pancakes."
"You're getting eggs."
"Satoru wants pancakes and eggs."
"Satoru is very demanding."
"Satoru is very loved, which means he should get pancakes."
You finally turned off the stove and turned around in his arms. He was still half-asleep, his hair still a disaster, his blindfold nowhere to be seen. He was wearing nothing but his sweatpants, and he looked like he'd rolled out of bed approximately thirty seconds ago.
Which, to be fair, he had.
"You look terrible," you said affectionately.
"I look devastating."
"You look like you were hit by a truck."
"A very handsome truck."
You laughed, reaching up to fix his hair — or try to, anyway. It was a losing battle. The white strands slipped through your fingers like silk, refusing to be tamed.
"I love you," you said softly.
His eyes softened. The teasing faded from his face, replaced by something quieter. Something real.
"I know," he said, echoing your words from earlier. "I love you too."
He leaned down and kissed you — slow, lazy, morning-sweet.
When he pulled back, he was smiling.
"So," he said. "Pancakes?"
"Eggs."
"Pancakes and eggs?"
"...Fine."
He grinned, the full megawatt smile that had made you fall in love with him in the first place, and pulled you into another hug — this one tighter, warmer, his arms wrapped around you like he never wanted to let go.
"Best morning ever," he declared.
"It's not even 9 AM."
"Doesn't matter. You're here. I win."
And honestly?
You couldn't argue with that.
You never made it to the kitchen.
Well — you did. You made the eggs. You even made the pancakes (because you were weak and he knew it). But somewhere between the last bite and the first sip of coffee, Satoru had tugged you toward the couch instead of the bedroom.
"The bed is right there," you said.
"The couch is closer," he'd argue.
"You're impossible."
"You're mine."
And now here you were — curled up on the sofa, the morning light still soft through the curtains, your half-empty coffee mug on the side table. Satoru's head rested in your lap, his long body stretched across the rest of the couch, his feet hanging off the armrest like he was too tall for any piece of furniture ever made.
His eyes were closed. His hair — still a complete disaster — fanned out across your thighs like white silk. He looked peaceful. Pretty. Soft.
You ran your fingers through his messy hair, untangling the knots gently, and he made a sound low in his throat. Something between a sigh and a hum. Content.
"You're purring," you observed.
"I'm not purring."
"You're absolutely purring."
"Shut up. I'm sleeping."
"You're not sleeping. You're just lying there with your eyes closed."
"Same thing."
You laughed quietly, your fingers trailing down to trace the line of his jaw.
"Satoru."
"Mm."
"You said ten more minutes. That was forty-five minutes ago."
"Time is fake."
"The clock says otherwise."
"The clock is a liar." He cracked one eye open, peering up at you through his lashes. The blue was striking against the morning light — bright, almost glowing. "Are you trying to leave again?"
"I'm trying to be productive."
"Productivity is overrated."
"Someone has to do the dishes."
"The dishes can wait." He closed his eye again, nuzzling his face against your thigh. His nose was cold. You yelped slightly, and he grinned — slow and sleepy and unfairly handsome. "See? You're not going anywhere."
"You're impossible."
"You've mentioned that."
You sighed, but you were smiling. Your fingers found their way back into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp, and he melted. Actually melted. His whole body relaxed beneath your touch, his shoulders dropping, his breathing slowing.
"I could stay like this forever," he murmured.
"Then we'd starve."
"Worth it."
"No food?"
"You're enough."
You swatted his shoulder lightly, and he laughed — a low, sleepy rumble that vibrated through your legs. His hand came up to rest on your knee, his thumb tracing lazy circles on the fabric of your sweatpants.
"Do you remember," he said softly, "when we first started dating? And I used to fall asleep on your shoulder during movies?"
"You still do that."
"Yeah, but back then I was pretending to be cool about it."
"You were never cool about it. Your ears turned red every single time."
"...I was hoping you didn't notice that."
"I noticed everything."
He opened his eyes again, looking up at you with an expression that made your chest ache. Soft. Vulnerable. Loving.
"Good," he said quietly. "I wanted you to notice."
The morning light shifted, casting patterns on the wall. Somewhere outside, a bird was singing. The world was waking up — slowly, gently, like it didn't want to rush either.
Satoru turned his head, pressing a kiss to the inside of your palm.
"I love you," he said against your skin.
"I know."
"Say it back."
You leaned down, your hair falling forward to brush against his cheeks, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Then his nose. Then his lips — soft, quick, a whisper of a kiss.
"I love you too," you whispered. "Now let me do the dishes."
"No."
"Satoru."
"Satoru loves you. Satoru thinks you should stay right here. Satoru's head is very comfortable in your lap and he refuses to move."
"You're ridiculous."
"You're ridiculously in love with me."
"Unfortunately."
He grinned — that full, blinding smile that made your heart stutter — and pulled your hand down to rest over his heart. You could feel it beating beneath your palm. Steady. Strong. Alive.
"Ten more minutes," he said.
"You said that forty-five minutes ago."
"Ten more minutes this time."
You looked down at him — at his messy hair, his sleepy eyes, his soft smile. At the man who could destroy cities but chose to spend his morning with his head in your lap.
"...Fine," you said. "Ten more minutes."
He closed his eyes, still smiling.
"I win."
"Yeah," you said softly, your fingers finding their way back into his hair. "You win."
The coffee grew cold. The dishes waited. The world kept turning, slow and patient.
And Satoru stayed exactly where he was — head in your lap, heart in your hands — exactly where he belonged.
A/N. he's so adorable he could keep me in bed all day and i wont complain (┬┬﹏┬┬)
Plagiarism not authorized. Do not feed my work to AI. Feel free to req!! <3
summary : you are used to babying your sunshine bf not knowing that sunshine has layers that burn and you came to know that after injuring yourself in a mission.
you are woken up by a ticklish feeling on your neck which turns out to be your pink haired bf peppering soft wet grossly loud kisses all over you.
this is his tactic of waking you up ever since he started sleeping in your dorm , which is 5 months.
months ago this munchkin got hurt enough to leave a massive stain in his dorm bed and this jerk didnt even go to shoko sensei for aid. "its a minor injury babe and shes already got her hands full, didnt wanna bother her with me" is what your bf said. ofc. even after getting his back sliced he cared about others.
it was then you decided to take matters in your hands and took him to your dorm and made him promise to sleep in here after his missions, yuji who usually protested in these cases noded immediately, eyes lightening up as if he won a lottery.
since then , mission or not, yuji came over whenever he wanted and latched on to you, you didnt mind his clinginess ( which btw was a lot considering he would negotiate with you to not go peeing cuz sir was laying on you lap; if u did? he would follow you and wait on the door like an imprinted duck) so yeah, he didnt mind his unbearable clinginess. how could you? when hes staring at you with so much honeyed affection its pouring out of his eyes, when he nuzzles in your lap letting out deep low groans after finding a comfortable spot, dead out in seconds when you caress his hair.
you cant.
you are not the type to be one of those gfs who treat thier bfs like a child
but yuji. yuji itadori molds you that way. his sincerity and blunt attachment forces u to baby him
to you, hes a sunbeam, escape from this jujutsu world, escape from curses
you couldn't imagine, not in your wildest dreams, that he was capable of malice.
So, imagine the sheer, icy shock that flooded your veins when you woke up from the hazy blur of Shoko’s anesthesia to a terrifying truth. You had been battered and broken after a setup—a Grade 2 sorcerer being you thrown to the wolves against a Special Grade.
And your sweet, golden retriever boyfriend had responded by committing absolute, unbridled slaughter.
The buildings within a ten-mile radius of your mission? Decimated.
The curses lurking in the shadows? Eradicated.
And the corrupt higher-ups who had carelessly signed your death warrant? Gone.
Even a few civilians had caught the crossfire because Yuji had torn through the city without dropping a single, fucking veil.
Somewhere in the shadows, Gojo Satoru—who had happily fed Yuji the names of the men responsible—was likely beaming with pride.
But you were just terrified. Why? How?
Yuji? Your Yuji?
Nobara sat by your infirmary bed, her expression a mix of awe and deep unease. "He dropped his own mission and ran when he heard you got set up," she explained quietly. "He was late. When he saw you..."
She swallowed hard.
"He dropped to his knees. The idiot was trembling so hard. He tried to pick you up, but you winced, so I swatted his hands away. Then we rolled you over and he saw... he saw the gashes across your stomach."
Nobara paused, her eyes darkening at the memory.
"He just lost it. His eyes went completely dead. I kept shouting his name, but it was like he couldn't hear me. He just silently handed you to Shoko and walked out to find Gojo. I don't know what he said, but—"
Thud.
The heavy infirmary door swung open.
There stood your boyfriend. He was panting heavily, his broad, solid frame casting a long, moody shadow across the sterile room. Fresh, jagged scratches marred his skin—scars you hadn't seen before.
"Kugisaki. Leave." His voice didn't sound like Yuji. It was a low, gravelly command that left absolutely no room for argument.
Nobara stood up, rolling her eyes to mask the tension. She threw you a quick thumbs-up and slipped out. The door clicked shut, sealing you in.
You stared at the boy in front of you. "Yuji, what am I hearing—"
"It's Yuu for you, Y/N."
"That's not the poi—"
you couldnt finish your sentence as he came near you and tugged you loose clothes up, too much, the underside of your breasts was in view but yujis eyes only scanned for scars, which were none thanks to shokos reversed cursed technique
even tho he wasnt looking at the exposure, you still felt embarrased
"never again'
you looked up to see him staring directly at you
he dropped your shirt and scooped you up
" never again am i gonna let you get hurt baby"
"im so sorry" his eyes were glassy and for a second you could see your adorable bf but his eyes darkened again, staring intensely as he tucked a stray hair behind your ear
you looked down
you were nervous
you dont know why you were nervous
maybe cuz yuji never intimidated u like this?
he made u look up at him by his index finger on you chin as he sighed
"look at me"
your eyes dropped again you were fucking nervous!
yuji frowned and grabbed your jaw with his hand with more force
"keep looking at me"
he leaned in resting your temples together while still making eye contact
"yeah just like that"
he put his free hand infront of your face
"hold my hand"
you obediently held it
he interlocked your fingers bringing it near his lips giving it a chaste kiss
all this time maintaining eye contact
your breath hitched
"yuji-
"say you love me"
you paused for a second making him harden his hold on you
"tell me you love me baby"
'i..i love you.."
"louder"
"i love you"
he dropped his head on your neck inhaling your scent
"again"
" i love yo-ah!
he bit near your pulse softening the sting with sloppy wet kisses before looking at u
"did i tell u to stop?'
"huh?"
he gave u a sharp stare before kissing you, putting so much force in it your lips felt the sting
he tilted his head adjustign you in his arms as he mutteres in between
" i love you. i love you so much i feel insane. i love you so much that i hate what you are making me feel"
His kisses dragged a burning trail down your neck as he slowly lowered you back onto the mattress, following your body down until he was hovering over you, caging you in. His hands slid under your shirt, large palms stroking the curve of your ribs before settling heavily on your waist, his thumbs pressing into your skin.
"This soft skin of yours was slashed. Flesh torn. Your sweet scent was entirely masked by blood, Y/N." His voice was a devastated whisper. "I don't want you covered in blood, baby."
"I want you filled with softness, comfort... me."
"I don't want you worrying about curses."
He dragged an open-mouthed kiss along your collarbone, a deep rumble vibrating in his chest.
"I want you sleeping, dreaming of my touch."
"Or waking up needing it."
"Yuji," you panted, trying to inject some reason into the heavy, intoxicating air. "Everyone gets hurt on missions. I'm not special. I'll heal and get back to fighting. I'm strong."
"You are strong, baby. You are so damn strong," he murmured, his teeth grazing your earlobe, sending a shiver cascading down your spine. "But I'm not. So be strong right here. On my lap."
Before you could process his words, his hands gripped your hips, lifting and pulling you forward until you were straddling him, sitting perfectly aligned over the thick, agonizingly heavy ridge pressing against the denim of his pants.
You let out a sharp gasp, your body shivering as a sudden, aching friction flared right at your center.
"Yuji, if you think you can seduce me into quitting sorcery, you are one dumb fuck," you breathed, though your voice lacked its usual bite.
Yuji stilled, looking up at you with a mock pout that didn't quite reach the dark, feral look in his eyes. "I'll just take up every single one of your missions, so good luck trying to fight."
You glared down at him, your hands resting on his broad shoulders. "You can't do that."
A slow, wicked smirk curved his lips. He rolled his hips upward, just a fraction, biting his lower lip as a stifled moan escaped you.
"Watch me."
You cupped his face, your thumbs tracing the sharp line of his cheekbones, trying to coax the golden retriever back to the surface. "You're panicking, Yuu. I get it. But you're smothering me."
"Smothering is still better than you being half-dead."
"Fuck you."
"I desperately want you to"
You huffed trying to get up from his lap
But he sat you right down, making the friction more intense as both of you gasped
You looked at him as he rolled his hips in another torturous motion making you grinding down on him trying to ease the tension.
your response excited him as he literally started eating your mouth.
His mouth was relentless, swallowing your muffled whimpers as his tongue tangled with yours, tasting of mint and raw, unrestrained desperation.
Every agonizingly slow roll of his hips was a persuasive argument, sending shockwaves of heat straight to your core while his large, calloused hands kneaded the soft flesh of your thighs.
"Just say yes, baby," he murmured against your slick, swollen lips, his breath hot and ragged as he tilted your hips to deepen the torturous friction between you two.
"Say you'll let me do the fighting. Say you'll stay right here, safe and untouched, while I tear apart anything that even tries to look at you. Please, Y/N. Let me take care of you." The sheer vulnerability masking his dominant hold made your resolve crumble. You couldn't fight him—not when his body was practically vibrating with the terror of losing you, and not when he was weaponizing every ounce of his undeniable, heavy strength just to make you melt into him.
"Okay," you breathed out, completely breathless, your fingers sliding up to card through his soft, pink hair and massage his scalp. "Okay, Yuu. I'm here.
I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere." The gentle, rhythmic stroke of your nails was the anchor he desperately needed to pull him back from the edge.
You could literally feel the manic, frantic tension bleed out of his broad shoulders, the terrifyingly feral glint in his amber eyes finally dissolving into exhausted relief.
He let out a long, shuddering exhale, leaning his heavy head forward until his lips brushed against the sensitive shell of your ear.
"Good," he whispered, his voice dropping into a gravelly, downright filthy register that sent a violent shiver down your spine.
"Because the second Shoko sensei clears you, I’m taking you back to your room and locking the door. I’m going to pin your legs back and completely ruin you, baby. I'm going to stretch you out and bury myself inside you so deep and so rough that your mind goes completely blank. I'm going to pound into you until you're shaking, dripping wet, and screaming my name so loud your voice gives out. I'm going to mark up every inch of this beautiful skin and fuck you mindless until you physically forget what the outside world even looks like—until the only thing you can feel, taste, and breathe is me."
Before your brain could even begin to short-circuit at the sheer, wicked audacity of his promise, Yuji slumped his entire body weight forward.
He buried his face directly into the warmth of your chest with a soft, drawn-out sigh. "My head hurts, baby," he mumbled, his voice instantly snapping back to that sweet, whiny, sunshine tone as he nuzzled his nose happily against your sternum like a giant, needy puppy.
His large arms wrapped around your waist in a comfortable, lazy hug. "Can you just hold me? I missed you so much."
A/n: this was my first try writing nsfw pls dont cringe( ;｀Д´)
emo/stoner!choso being clingy to his sweet girlfriend ⧽ collage au ! , sfw , Choso being touchy , he’s high , + note at the end ‹𝟹
before you noticed him, you felt a lot of weight pilled on top of you. his face smushed between your boobs, as his body completely collapsed on top of you, legs between yours.
“cho your heavy!!” you grunted looking down as you tossed your phone to the side.
he nuzzled deeper into your chest, as if he was trying to sink into your skin. “your so warm. and comfortable.” his voice muffled into your shirt. it was low and soft, laced with sleepiness.
your hand finds his hair like it’s second nature, slightly scratching while your other hand finds his waist, while your thumb rubs the skin there from his shirt slightly lifting.
he hummed at the feeling, his hands wrapping around you. this was his favorite thing to do. seeing you all comfortable in his bed, in nothing but his tshirt and just a pair of panties. it was all he needed after a long day. to be in your embrace.
you rested your head against his soft hair, as your hands wrapping around him. “your such a big baby.”
he lifted his head, pouting his lips. “your big baby?”
you couldn’t help but giggle, he was probably high since he was being very clingier than usual.
you peaked his lips. “yes my big baby.” he smiled like a fool, returning back to his favorite spot.
“I love you princess.” you could feel his lips slowly kissing your chest. returning the favor you kissed his head, another thing he loved. “I love you more cho.” his hands slid under your shirt, slightly grazing under your boobs. the touch wasn’t sexual, it was a way of grounding him.
a few minutes of the two of you laying there comfortably together, you started to hear soft snoring. looking down Choso was knocked out. his lips slightly parted, a little drool wetting your shirt. your heart squeezes from how cute he looked.
you couldn’t help but watched him for a minute. oh you were definitely gonna tease him about it.
slowly pulling his hair out his pigtails, you pushed his hair back from his face, putting it into one lose pony knowing he would start to get overwhelmed by his hair being up in the morning. carefully pulling the covers over him, you turned off the lamp on the nightstand.
“night my baby.” you kissed his head one more final time, his hand slightly squeezing your waist as if even your touches still affected him in his sleep.
you soon drifted off to sleep with you clingy boyfriend on top of you, with his weight, the warmness from his body, and just his presence himself made you feel safe. it grounded you as well.
truly there was no other place you would rather be.
make this my reality.. emo Choso u will always have my heart.. but my first little something since I have been reading so many Choso fics and I just love that man down bad. 🙈 if it’s bad I apologizeee I’m no pro at this.. just for funzies 🥹🤍
synopsis. Gojo Satoru is the strongest sorcerer in the world. But when morning comes, he's just a man who refuses to let his wife leave the bed. Not because he's lazy (he is), but because her warmth is the only thing that makes waking up worth it.
pairing. gojo satoru x f!reader
content & warnings. pure fluff, established relationship (married), super clingy and whiny gojo, messy hair agenda, soft morning cuddles, maybe a little tooth-rotting ♪(´▽｀)
word count. 2.7k+
A/N. mama has been busy, late post !! 〒▽〒
The first thing you registered was warmth.
Not the kind from the heater or the sun filtering through the curtains. No, this was him — all six-foot-three of him, wrapped around you like an octopus who had decided you were his favorite rock.
Satoru's arm was draped across your waist, heavy and unyielding. His legs were tangled with yours beneath the mountain of blankets he'd hoarded sometime during the night. His face was buried in the curve of your neck, his breath warm and slow against your skin.
And his hair.
Oh, his hair.
The iconic white locks that usually fell in perfect, effortless waves were now a complete disaster. It stuck up in every direction — flattened on one side from the pillow, sticking out wildly on the other like he'd been electrocuted sometime around 2 AM. A few strands had fallen across his face, and he'd clearly been too deep in sleep to care.
You smiled softly, your heart squeezing in that familiar, painful way it always did when you looked at him like this. Unprotected. Unbothered. Yours.
Slowly, carefully, you tried to shift your weight.
Big mistake.
Satoru's arm tightened around you immediately, pulling you back against his chest with a strength that reminded you — not that you'd ever forgotten — exactly who you'd married.
"Mmm," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. "No."
"Good morning to you too," you whispered.
"Not morning yet."
"It's 8:30."
"That's the middle of the night."
You laughed softly, reaching down to brush your fingers against his wrist. "Satoru, I have things to do."
"The things can wait."
"They're important things."
He lifted his head just enough to crack one eye open — still half-lidded, still hazy with sleep, but sharp enough to pin you in place. That one visible eye, the color of the sky just before dawn, stared at you with an intensity that made your stomach flip.
"More important than me?" he asked, his voice still raspy.
You paused. "That's not fair."
"I'm not playing fair." He buried his face back in your neck, his nose cold against your skin. "I'm playing stay. I always win at stay."
"You made that game up."
"Doesn't make me any less good at it."
You sighed, but you were smiling. You couldn't help it. This was the same man who had stared down curses that would make seasoned sorcerers weep. The same man who had faced death with a laugh and walked away unscathed. The same man who had stood in front of you on your wedding day, blindfold nowhere to be seen, looking at you like you were the only real thing in the world.
And now he was whining about you getting out of bed.
Some things never changed.
"I really do need to get up," you tried again, attempting to peel his arm off your waist.
He responded by wrapping his other arm around you too, effectively caging you in. His legs shifted, hooking around yours like he was building a human fortress. You were pinned. Completely, utterly, hopelessly pinned.
"You're being dramatic," you informed him.
"I'm being efficient," he corrected, his lips brushing against your shoulder. "This is the only way to keep you here."
"There's nothing efficient about this. You're just clingy."
"Clingy implies a lack of purpose. I have a purpose." He pressed a kiss to your shoulder — soft, almost unconscious, like he wasn't even aware he was doing it. "My purpose is keeping my wife in bed where she belongs."
"She belongs out of bed. Living her life. Doing things."
"You can live your life right here." He tightened his arms. "This is life. Peak life. The best life."
"Satoru."
"Satoru loves you," he mumbled. "Satoru thinks you're warm. Satoru doesn't want you to leave."
You bit your lip to keep from smiling too wide. "Are you speaking in third person now?"
"I'm speaking in whatever it takes."
You felt him yawn against your skin, his jaw cracking slightly, and the sound was so endearingly human that your heart ached. This was Gojo Satoru — the strongest, the most untouchable, the man who carried the world on his shoulders without ever seeming to feel the weight.
But right now, he was just your husband. The one who ran hot at night and stole all the blankets. The one who mumbled nonsense in his sleep and always, always reached for you before he was fully awake.
"Ten more minutes," you bargained.
"An hour."
"Fifteen minutes."
"Forty-five."
"Twenty, final offer."
He was quiet for a moment, and you thought maybe — maybe — he'd fallen back asleep. But then he shifted, pulling you even closer until your back was flush against his chest, his chin resting on top of your head.
"The world can wait," he murmured, his voice soft and sleepy. "Just... ten more minutes of this."
Your resolve crumbled.
"Fine," you whispered. "Ten more minutes."
He hummed in satisfaction, his arms relaxing just slightly — just enough to be comfortable, never enough to let you go.
"Love you," he breathed.
"Love you too."
"Love you more."
"That's not how love works."
"Don't care. Still true."
You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the warmth of him. The blankets were soft. The morning light was gentle. And Satoru's heartbeat — steady, rhythmic, alive — was the only sound you needed to hear.
Twenty-three minutes later, you were still there.
Not that you were counting.
(You were counting. You'd counted every single minute, and you'd let him have every single one.)
"I can feel you thinking," he said suddenly, his voice still rough from sleep.
"You can feel me thinking?"
"I'm very perceptive."
"You're very nosey."
"Same thing."
You laughed — a real laugh, the kind that shook your shoulders and made his arms tighten around you instinctively. "I need to go, Satoru. The world is calling."
"The world is overrated."
"The world pays our bills."
"The world can pay them later."
You turned in his arms — an awkward shuffle that involved a lot of squirming and a displeased grunt from your husband — until you were facing him. His eyes were still half-closed, his white hair an absolute disaster, and there was a pillow crease on his cheek.
He was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen.
"Hi," you said softly.
"Hi," he said back, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Your hair is a mess."
"Your hair is also a mess."
"It's your fault. You were using it as a pillow."
"It's a very comfortable pillow. You should be flattered."
You reached up, brushing the wild strands away from his forehead. His eyes fluttered shut at the touch, and for a moment — just a moment — he looked so young. So unburdened. So safe.
"I really do have to go," you said quietly.
"I know."
But he didn't let go.
Neither of you moved.
Then, slowly — reluctantly — his arms loosened. Just a little. Just enough.
"Go," he said, but his voice was thick. "Before I change my mind."
You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Soft. Lingering.
"I'll make breakfast," you promised.
His eyes cracked open again. "What kind of breakfast?"
"What kind do you want?"
"The kind where you come back to bed after."
You laughed, shaking your head. "Nice try."
"Worth a shot."
You slipped out from under his arms — a careful, practiced escape that you'd perfected over months of marriage — and stood up. The morning air was cooler without his warmth, and you immediately missed it.
Satoru groaned, rolling onto his back and throwing an arm over his eyes. The blankets had slipped down to his waist, revealing the bare expanse of his chest, and his hair was spread across the pillow like a white halo.
"You're staring," he said, not moving his arm.
"I'm not."
"You absolutely are. I can feel it. My wife is ogling me."
"Your wife is leaving."
"Your husband is suffering."
You grabbed his hoodie from the back of the chair — the one he'd left there last night, the one that smelled like him — and pulled it over your head. It fell to your mid-thigh, swallowing you whole.
Satoru lifted his arm just enough to peek at you.
"You're stealing my clothes," he observed.
"I'm borrowing your clothes."
"With intent to return?"
"...Debatable."
He dropped his arm back over his eyes, but you could see the smile spreading across his face. "I love you. You know that, right?"
"Yeah." You walked over to his side of the bed, leaning down to press another kiss — this time to his lips. Soft. Simple. A promise. "I know."
He caught your hand before you could pull away, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. His eyes — both of them now, open and bright and so impossibly blue — looked up at you.
"Ten more minutes wasn't enough," he said quietly.
"It never is."
"Then stay longer next time."
You smiled. "Maybe I will."
And even as you walked out of the bedroom toward the kitchen, you could feel his gaze following you. Warm. Devoted. Endless.
Somewhere behind you, you heard him sigh — content, happy, utterly, ridiculously in love.
"Married," he muttered to himself. "I'm married. To the most beautiful woman in the world. How did I get this lucky?"
You didn't answer.
But you were smiling so wide your cheeks hurt.
Breakfast was half-finished when you felt arms wrap around your waist from behind.
Satoru's chin dropped onto your shoulder, and you could feel his breath warm against your ear.
"You're supposed to be in bed," you said, not looking up from the stove.
"Couldn't sleep."
"Couldn't, or wouldn't?"
"Same thing."
You felt him press a kiss to your shoulder — then another, higher up on your neck, then another just below your ear.
"Satoru."
"Satoru loves you," he mumbled against your skin. "Satoru wants pancakes."
"You're getting eggs."
"Satoru wants pancakes and eggs."
"Satoru is very demanding."
"Satoru is very loved, which means he should get pancakes."
You finally turned off the stove and turned around in his arms. He was still half-asleep, his hair still a disaster, his blindfold nowhere to be seen. He was wearing nothing but his sweatpants, and he looked like he'd rolled out of bed approximately thirty seconds ago.
Which, to be fair, he had.
"You look terrible," you said affectionately.
"I look devastating."
"You look like you were hit by a truck."
"A very handsome truck."
You laughed, reaching up to fix his hair — or try to, anyway. It was a losing battle. The white strands slipped through your fingers like silk, refusing to be tamed.
"I love you," you said softly.
His eyes softened. The teasing faded from his face, replaced by something quieter. Something real.
"I know," he said, echoing your words from earlier. "I love you too."
He leaned down and kissed you — slow, lazy, morning-sweet.
When he pulled back, he was smiling.
"So," he said. "Pancakes?"
"Eggs."
"Pancakes and eggs?"
"...Fine."
He grinned, the full megawatt smile that had made you fall in love with him in the first place, and pulled you into another hug — this one tighter, warmer, his arms wrapped around you like he never wanted to let go.
"Best morning ever," he declared.
"It's not even 9 AM."
"Doesn't matter. You're here. I win."
And honestly?
You couldn't argue with that.
You never made it to the kitchen.
Well — you did. You made the eggs. You even made the pancakes (because you were weak and he knew it). But somewhere between the last bite and the first sip of coffee, Satoru had tugged you toward the couch instead of the bedroom.
"The bed is right there," you said.
"The couch is closer," he'd argue.
"You're impossible."
"You're mine."
And now here you were — curled up on the sofa, the morning light still soft through the curtains, your half-empty coffee mug on the side table. Satoru's head rested in your lap, his long body stretched across the rest of the couch, his feet hanging off the armrest like he was too tall for any piece of furniture ever made.
His eyes were closed. His hair — still a complete disaster — fanned out across your thighs like white silk. He looked peaceful. Pretty. Soft.
You ran your fingers through his messy hair, untangling the knots gently, and he made a sound low in his throat. Something between a sigh and a hum. Content.
"You're purring," you observed.
"I'm not purring."
"You're absolutely purring."
"Shut up. I'm sleeping."
"You're not sleeping. You're just lying there with your eyes closed."
"Same thing."
You laughed quietly, your fingers trailing down to trace the line of his jaw.
"Satoru."
"Mm."
"You said ten more minutes. That was forty-five minutes ago."
"Time is fake."
"The clock says otherwise."
"The clock is a liar." He cracked one eye open, peering up at you through his lashes. The blue was striking against the morning light — bright, almost glowing. "Are you trying to leave again?"
"I'm trying to be productive."
"Productivity is overrated."
"Someone has to do the dishes."
"The dishes can wait." He closed his eye again, nuzzling his face against your thigh. His nose was cold. You yelped slightly, and he grinned — slow and sleepy and unfairly handsome. "See? You're not going anywhere."
"You're impossible."
"You've mentioned that."
You sighed, but you were smiling. Your fingers found their way back into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp, and he melted. Actually melted. His whole body relaxed beneath your touch, his shoulders dropping, his breathing slowing.
"I could stay like this forever," he murmured.
"Then we'd starve."
"Worth it."
"No food?"
"You're enough."
You swatted his shoulder lightly, and he laughed — a low, sleepy rumble that vibrated through your legs. His hand came up to rest on your knee, his thumb tracing lazy circles on the fabric of your sweatpants.
"Do you remember," he said softly, "when we first started dating? And I used to fall asleep on your shoulder during movies?"
"You still do that."
"Yeah, but back then I was pretending to be cool about it."
"You were never cool about it. Your ears turned red every single time."
"...I was hoping you didn't notice that."
"I noticed everything."
He opened his eyes again, looking up at you with an expression that made your chest ache. Soft. Vulnerable. Loving.
"Good," he said quietly. "I wanted you to notice."
The morning light shifted, casting patterns on the wall. Somewhere outside, a bird was singing. The world was waking up — slowly, gently, like it didn't want to rush either.
Satoru turned his head, pressing a kiss to the inside of your palm.
"I love you," he said against your skin.
"I know."
"Say it back."
You leaned down, your hair falling forward to brush against his cheeks, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Then his nose. Then his lips — soft, quick, a whisper of a kiss.
"I love you too," you whispered. "Now let me do the dishes."
"No."
"Satoru."
"Satoru loves you. Satoru thinks you should stay right here. Satoru's head is very comfortable in your lap and he refuses to move."
"You're ridiculous."
"You're ridiculously in love with me."
"Unfortunately."
He grinned — that full, blinding smile that made your heart stutter — and pulled your hand down to rest over his heart. You could feel it beating beneath your palm. Steady. Strong. Alive.
"Ten more minutes," he said.
"You said that forty-five minutes ago."
"Ten more minutes this time."
You looked down at him — at his messy hair, his sleepy eyes, his soft smile. At the man who could destroy cities but chose to spend his morning with his head in your lap.
"...Fine," you said. "Ten more minutes."
He closed his eyes, still smiling.
"I win."
"Yeah," you said softly, your fingers finding their way back into his hair. "You win."
The coffee grew cold. The dishes waited. The world kept turning, slow and patient.
And Satoru stayed exactly where he was — head in your lap, heart in your hands — exactly where he belonged.
A/N. he's so adorable he could keep me in bed all day and i wont complain (┬┬﹏┬┬)
Plagiarism not authorized. Do not feed my work to AI. Feel free to req!! <3
𝓢 𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒖 calls your pussy his ‘poor girl’ after he's thoroughly fucked it all messy and dripping. stuffed to the brim as a filthy leak of cream trickles out.
he's got you on your back. tuckered out and whimpering. he's all pouting and cooing— like he wasn't the one who pounded you into the sheets and left you twitching.
“my poor, poor girl.” he'd whisper as he thumbs deceptively tender on your clit. he presses a kiss to your navel, then your pelvis— stroking down your quivering slit. he pouts more.
“who could ever do this to her? she's so messy, look at her.” as he rubs his palm over your cunt so soothingly only lay a flat-handed spank! to have you whining.
and then he's grinning again. showing his true colours as those blue eyes light up in a craze and he roughly swirls his thumb on your abused clit.
“guess that was just big bad toru huh?” as he's swooping in to kiss just below your teary eye. crooning like the fucking devil as he worms another overstimulated orgasm from you.
