ļ¹ äŗę” ę : gojo satoru ļ¹
"youāre too young to be groaning like that," you tease as gojo flops onto the bed face-down, exhaling sharply.
"shut up," he mutters, voice muffled against the pillow. "i think my back just gave out."
you roll your eyes, settling beside him. his body is warm beneath your hands, muscles tense from who knows how many fights he got into today. gently, you press your thumbs into his shoulders, working out the knots.
"damn," he exhales after a beat, his usual cocky edge replaced with something softer.
"that good?"
"i might actually marry you if you keep doing this."
you snort. classic satoru. but you keep going, pressing deeper into his back. his breathing slows, and his body finally unwinds beneath your touch.
after a moment, he sighs. "you know, if iām this messed up now, imagine how weāll be when weāre actually old."
"youāre acting like youāre eighty."
"feels like it." he turns his head to glance at you. thereās something easy, something fond in his gaze.
"guess iāll just have to take care of you forever, then."
for once, he doesnāt have a comeback. just a small smile ā one that lingers even as the white-haired man drifts off to sleep under your touch.
