⋆˚࿔ pilot!gojo whenever you're on his flight
tags. established relationship. married life. lovesick!gojo. soft!gojo. married & in love. domestic fluff. ⋮ author's note. i got this idea right before i went to bed and wrote it out in the morning, sorry if anyone's already done this!! i'm actually so happy i made this stop (..◜ᴗ◝..) ⋮ word count. 0.9k ⋮ art credit. 3vangel1ne_
Pilot!Gojo who always comes out to greet you before boarding begins, in order to make sure you don't need anything. A slightly smug smirk plastered on his face, which shows he's more than happy to show you off.
A white collared shirt, clean and pristine, tailored black trousers, a belt that’s snugly wrapped around his hips, showcasing his slim waist. A double-breasted suit jacket making his broad shoulders squeeze uncomfortably against the fabric. White hair tousled as if he's been running his fingers through it, and he still looks like the most handsome man you've ever encountered, sadly enough, because he knows it, too.
“Hey,” he greets, the corners of his lips tugging up into a wide smile. An arm wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against him, and once he's bent over a bit, he’ll press a sweet, lingering kiss to your lips. “You’re looking so pretty.”
Pilot!Gojo who doesn't hesitate to make a heartwarming PA announcement over the intercom to acknowledge your presence. And since, in all honesty, it’s Gojo we’re talking about, it never happens casually.
“Good afternoon, Ladies and Gentlemen,” an overly energetic voice will call out over the intercom, which alone is enough to make people look up. Then, in a subtle, arrogant tone, “This is your captain speaking. There is nothing more I'd like than to direct your attention to row ten. You might've noticed the beautiful woman sitting there—”
By that point, you're already sinking back into your seat, cheeks reddening and eyes turning downcast to avoid noticing the laughter in other passengers' eyes.
“—who I am blessed to call my lovely wife.”
“Oh, for Christ's sake,” you whisper to yourself when he keeps babbling on and on about your beauty, and you're certain the guy next to you is thinking the same as you. His wife, on the other hand, has hearts forming in her eyes, finding it overly sweet.
“I’m sorry for not taking out the trash this morning, baby—”
By the time he gets to the end, stopping with, “I love you,” you're feeling too embarrassed to look up. There’s some clapping, shared laughter, and once you get off the plane, speak some sense into him, maybe after, you too will find it funny.
Pilot!Gojo who thinks he's being discreet when he tells the cabin crew to occasionally check up on you, but in reality, nothing with him is ever subtle or kept on the low.
Every gesture belonging to him is grand, over the top, never deemed simple. They check in every twenty minutes, bring you things you weren't even aware they had on aeroplanes, and the care you receive feels as if you're being treated like pure royalty on its own.
Pilot!Gojo who manages to let you stay with him in the company-provided hotel accommodations without any complaints.
Since he's away a lot, he's found that throwing money at the problem has never truly worked with you. After approximately five years of marriage, he's proud to say he's mastered the art of figuring out you like spontaneous getaways instead.
If he's in a certain place for twenty-four to seventy-two hours, he’ll make sure to recharge the first night if it was a long flight. The day after, however, he’s planning a sightseeing trip, followed by an overly romantic dinner he triumphantly planned himself.
You better believe he's wooing you from top to bottom, wining and dining, lingering touches, soft kisses, gentle hands roaming over your curves, as if he's allowing himself to remember what the world feels like when he’s holding it in his hands.
A magnetic pull of some sort, a solid and grounding feeling to hold you close again. Your breath fanning against his cheek, the short hairs on his neck immediately straightening, like he's been hit on impact.
“I missed you,” he’ll tell you when the world has gone quiet, and the dimmed lamps of the fancy hotel room are the only lights still turned on in the dead of night.
“I missed you too,” you softly smile, hand cupping his cheek, thumb pressing down on the warm skin. Your legs are resting on his lap, your left foot pressing against his thigh, meanwhile with the right one you're tapping out an irregular rhythm, a song he can't place.
His shoulders will relax for the first time in approximately twenty-four hours, eyes briefly falling shut, lips parting ever so slightly, “Mhm,” he deeply hums, bright blue eyes opening again, taking in your every move. “You’re pretty.”
You chuckle, pushing him away, not getting any farther, since he's already pulling you back on top of him, “You tell me that all the time.”
His voice gets bashful when he's like this, a way that you're not used to when it comes to him. Satoru is everything that represents being loud. From the way he thinks, to the way he speaks, from his massive ego to his constant absence of seriousness.
But here, when it’s just the two of you, he’ll allow his light to dim. No pressure of the people around him, judging stares and whispers disappear the moment you lock any door when you're in a room with him.
So, it’s there, barely recognisable, sweet and sheepish—one hand on your waist while the other fiddles with his wedding ring like he can't believe you're truly his—but it’s him, nonetheless. In the depths of time, even if he were to be someone else entirely, you think you'd still be able to recognise him.
“I tell you all the time because I mean it all the time.”
© loreshonour — don't repost, translate, or copy any of my works.