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[quwh]

sukuna does not accomodate for anyone.

he does not stoop-literally and figuratively. not even when you're giving him your best puppy dog eyes.

"kunaaa. cm'ere. wanna kiss you but you're too tall!"

he tuts. "insolent woman. it is not my fault your stature is so diminutive to mine. try harder."

you stand on your tip-toes, hopping up. even then, your lips only manage to graze his collarbone.

"just bend down, sukuna!" "tch. no."

you cross your arms and look down woefully at the ground. you even go the extra mile to jut out your lower lip. you hear sukuna sigh from above you. then, strong arms are circling your waist and you're being lifted off the ground. you yelp, legs locking around sukuna's hips for purchase. you're face to face with him now, his scent enveloping your lungs.

"brat."

"hmm?"

"do what you came here to do."

"oh."

mwhaa! you lay a wet, dramatic kiss on his lips with a cheeky smile.

he grumbles about you being too spoiled and demanding as he sets you down with the utmost care.

he'd find all the loopholes for you.

[quwh]

⟣ 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

⟣ 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓

Camping with Toji <3

Showering with Toji <3

How Toji handles your nagging

Grimy old man Toji

Grimy step-dad Toji

Older bf Toji never lets you leave the house without filling you up :3

How Toji deals with other men liking you

Toji feeling guilty about the age-gap

Toji fucking you with his gun

Milkman Toji

Toji touching and teasing his shy gf

Toji with his talkative gf

Being needy and waking Toji at night

Toji lovesss short girls

Sitting on step-dad Toji’s lap

Toji lovesss your cunt even more after you gave birth

Accidentally calling Toji “dad” during sex

Rubbing your face on Toji’s bulge

“One’s in my mouth, One’s in my soul” w kento

Watching Toji take a piss + blow job

Milkman Toji giving you more than milk

When you talk back to Toji a little too much

Stepdad Toji fucking you in prone bone

⟣ 𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅

“Get used to seeing a man in love”

Mornings with Toji

Toji’s snores turn you on

Putting stickers on Toji

Toji secretly loves supporting your studio Ghibli addiction <3

⟣ 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓

Washing machine heart

⟣ 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒

And…they were roommates

⟣ 𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈𝐏𝐋𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐒

When you nag them too much

[quwh]

Hello, can I ask you for your opinion about, maybe mischaracterized charas, Barou, Lorenzo and Yuki?

yes, ofc!💕

barou doesn’t have anger issues and actually minds his own business. he’s very particularly about who or what he’s angry about, such as nagi being messy. when he insults people, he’s not actually angry or mad at them, it’s just his personality and how he speaks. (implied in the manga)

lorenzo, despite his crazy and life of the party attitude, is actually an extremely kind and fun person to be around. despite his appearance (which you guys gotta learn to stop judging), he’s always smiling and laughing with the ubers. (egoist bible, implied in the manga)

yukimiya seems to be rather rude, although backhandedly so. his inner monologue of chris prince is rather rude, and he calls both isagi and kaiser “manipulative and shrewd bastards”. i headcanon that it’s because he spent so much time with karasu. (egoist bible, implied in the manga)

[quwh]

barou is such a caretaker I don’t think y’all understand. You come home and you look the slightest bit tired or frustrated? Dinner is on him, you get a shoulder massage, he cleans the dishes and tells you to take a long, warm bath. And as soon as he’s done his nightly workout, his attention is on you. He brushes your hair out, helps you with your skincare, and holds you until you fall asleep in his arms

[quwh]

━╋ cw : slightly ooc barou , fluff , tooth-rotting fluff actually . .

thinking about how barou is def a secret lover boy n total romantic at heart… he’d never miss the opportunity to kiss your knuckles out of the blue while you go about your day or let you braid his hair when you’re bored. he picks up on your interests quickly, always eager and ready to listen to them— even if he has not a single clue what you’re talking about. barou loves listening to all of the songs you play in his car, listening and watching as you tap your fingers or nod your head along to the beat from his peripheral vision, keeping them in mind and playing a few of them during football practice. he definitely has jewelry with your initials on them and there’s always a seat reserved just for you at his games, only the best view for his lover.

barou is a provider and protector at heart. anything you’d want, he would get it for you. silently placing a bag down on the dining table with the pastry you’ve been dying to try at 8 in the morning that he was able to pick up while he passed the bakery during his morning jog or that piece of clothing you glanced at for approximately .5 milliseconds. he loves spoiling you. that man is glued to your side whenever you’re out in public, he isn’t too big on pda but his hand is always resting on your waist or hip; massaging the supple skin beneath his calloused fingertips as he guides you around the marketplace. he loves leaning down whenever you have something to say to him or if you want to give him a kiss. he loves all of you. barou isn’t afraid of showing it too. feathery, gentle touches dancing along your every inch of your trembling body almost seamlessly. soft whispers of praise and appreciation that are only meant for your heart and ears when you two are alone.

barou’s a sucker for you. even if he won’t admit it. even when he’s washing your hair and complaining that your shampoo sucks or scowling at you for not eating the pickles in your sandwich before he stuffs them in his mouth. even when he complains that the game you like is ‘stupid’ because he’s lost for what feels like the 500th time against you. barou doesn’t outright admit it but he would do anything to see the twinkle in your eyes when you look at him, the way your eyes crinkle and shine at him. the beaming smile and the kiss on his cheek that you give him to show him you’re thankful. you’re his baby after all. there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you. he loves to love you.

ᣟ៹ ❤︎៝ : wahhh i love this man smsmsmsm barou my baby :( he needs more appreciation fr omg..

[quwh]

after dark - toji fushiguro

summary: toij's light aftercare after an intense night

warning: slightly nsfw, mentions of sex, kissing, fluff, aftercare

toji's body is a solid, comforting weight behind you, his arm slung over your waist in a possessive, gentle hold. his breath brushes against your ear in soft puffs, sending a warm shiver down your spine. his hand moves slowly over your stomach, calloused fingers skimming your skin in tender strokes. every touch is deliberate, like he’s savoring each moment with every subtle shift of his hand. you shiver again, a slight, involuntary tremor that makes a low chuckle rumble from his chest.

"sensitive tonight, hm?" he murmurs. toji shifts slightly, propping himself up on one elbow, his lips finding the curve of your neck. he kisses you gently, slowly and unhurried, each press of his lips lingering longer than the last. his stubble grazes your sensitive skin, the roughness contrasting with the softness of his lips, and you can't suppress the sigh that escapes you.

the sound urges him on. he pulls you closer, his body molding against yours as if you’re the perfect fit, and his kisses trail lower, down the curve of your neck to your shoulder. each kiss feels like a promise, each one more heated than the last. his free hand continues its path along your side, tracing the curve of your waist and the dip of your hip, memorizing every inch of you. you squirm under his touch, unable to stop the growing heat inside you. even after the intensity of the night, he still manages to work you up.

"toji" you sigh, twisting just enough to face him. your thighs are still faintly trembling under you, stomach feeling sore from how well he satisfied you. over and over and over.

toji's gaze meets yours, softened by the faint curve of his lips. he lifts a hand to your face, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone, and he studies you, like he's trying to commit every detail to memory, as if you’re something rare he doesn’t want to let go of.

"you good?" he asks quietly, the words barely above a whisper. it’s so unlike the usual confident, untouchable toji—this side of him is soft, protective, and reserved for you.

you nod, bringing your hand up to rest against his, holding it in place. "yeah. i’m good". the words are more than just a reassurance; they carry a weight of their own, a promise to him, to yourself, that you're exactly where you want to be.

his lips twitch into a small, lopsided smile, the kind that only you get to see, before he leans down to kiss you. it’s slow, deliberate, the kind that leaves no room for doubt—no room for uncertainty. it’s a kiss that speaks volumes without uttering a single word, a kiss that says i’m here, i’m not going anywhere, i’m not done with you yet. when he pulls back, his forehead rests gently against yours, and for a moment, there’s only the sound of your breaths mingling in the quiet space between you.

"get some sleep" he murmurs. his hand continues to stroke your side in a soothing rhythm, each touch grounding you, making it harder to focus on anything but the comfort of his presence.

his lips press one final, soft kiss to your temple before he snuggles into you, his body curving protectively around yours. his warmth is intoxicating, and you find yourself relaxing into his hold, your breathing slowing to match the steady rise and fall of his chest.

toji’s strong hands continue their gentle caress, gliding over your skin in slow, unhurried movements. his touch is careful, as if he’s silently telling you he’s here and he’s not letting go. 

with every stroke of his fingers, sleep begins to pull you under. you drift off in his arms, feeling safe and cherished, the rhythm of his breathing being the last thing you feel before you fall asleep.

-----

a/n: thank you for reading. please send requests!! <3

[quwh]

“i need you” (comfort)

ʚ incl: gojo, geto, nanami, toji, choso, sukuna, higuruma, shiu, ino, shoko, uraume

ʚ cont: fluff, comfort

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ ࿔

[quwh]

i’m crying this is so canon

when you and satoru gojo started dating and agreed to take it slow, the first thing that you got used to was the fact that his infinity was up 24/7. though you understood and never brought it up, part of you yearned to feel his skin and not the invisible shield that kept him from the rest of the world.

then, during one beautiful evening after a lovely picnic date, you're comfortably lying against his chest—against that familiar shield, until you realize that you aren't.

as he's adorably rambling about something funny that happened while he was teaching the second years, you notice that you feel the material of his jacket against your cheek. then, you realize that the comforting scent you've been inhaling is his cologne. curious, you gently grasp one of his hands that's closest to you, and your heart practically skips a beat when you feel the warmth of his palm for the first time.

satoru senses your excitement and quietly intertwines your fingers with his. it's also his first time touching you without infinity activated, and he wants to savor it. his thumb brushes soothing patterns on your hand, and you don't even realize how hard you're grinning until you feel the strain in your cheeks.

he chuckles, and you look up to see him staring at you, blindfold raised and his blue eyes soft with adoration. "what's got you cheesin' like that, pretty girl?"

you shrug, your smile unwavering. "just thinking about how perfect my boyfriend is."

satoru stares at you for a little while longer, then tilts his head a bit lower. you feel his lips gently press against your forehead, then against your lips, feather-light and brief. the kiss is short, but it's absolutely perfect for the first time.

you snuggle against satoru, and his other hand strokes your soft face. "that's good," he finally replies, "because i'm always thinking about how lovely my girlfriend is."

[quwh]

i’m crying

satoru can't sleep without having his hands on you. he needs to be touching you in some way, he needs to. one of his favourite things to do is to just slip his hands under your shirt as he's snuggled up against your back, and to pull you flush to his chest so there isn't a single inch between you.

he buries his face in the crook of your neck, your hair, and breathes you in as he melts into you, the exhaustion finally taking over. his eyes grow heavy at the feel of your steady heartbeat, your own breathing, and he realizes that nothing has ever felt more right.

his thighs press against yours as he curls himself around you, a small, happy smile playing on his lips when in your slumber, you try to wiggle yourself deeper into him in return. he can imagine the little pout on your face, your scrunched brows – his baby.

his big arms tighten around your middle and he gives you a squeeze, his silent way of telling you that he's there and that he'll never leave.

warmth spreads all over his body when your hands find his under your shirt and you give him a little squeeze back. he knows you're alseep. but you're still looking for him, still searching for him in the darkness. still holding him.

still loving him, even when you're out like a light.

he sows his devotion into your skin with the lightest kiss right below your ear before letting his eyes fall shut. you're safe and sound, loved and cherished – and that's all he needs to know. so, he welcomes sleep with a tired smile, his hand in yours as you protect him from the dreams that desire to torment him. he, too, is safe and sound, loved and cherished – in the arms of his one and only. his everything.

[quwh]

the instant tear i shed. 🙁

i want to pour undiluted hydrochloric acid into my corneas

[quwh]

.

gojo satoru // fic recommendations

note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works

take me down to the depths of your depravity

piety

bento and tea

at his mercy

media naranja.

it takes two

downward dog

my husband is an idiot

the boy who murdered love

spark.

among dawn flowers (the face of god)

the sweetest moment

satoru, not gojo

10/10- would come again

all that is solid melts into air

starboy

what i never told you

temperance

blush

the colour yellow

brat

afternoon tea(se)

watermelon sugar why

5 + 1

love potion no. 5

violet lights

winter

"gojo has a girlfriend!?"

still the same

mother of otherness, eat me

valentine's day

there's no medicine for falling in love

[quwh]

i wonder cause theres two takes of gojo, him being extremely clingy and touchy in a relationship or not. both make sense cause i can def imagine him being like that but i hesrd people say him being like what was the word like not wanting to be touched? well not really. i could imagine him being sensitive to that, being touched like just holding hands or hugging. i mean yeah hes disabled his infinity to hug yuuji and stuff but yk?? but like w geto, if one way or another they stayed together and dated i can def see him being touchy and clingy. but like w out satosugu, modern world, well with curses and stuff lets say he meets someone he likes i wonder if hell be the same and all clingy. or maybe hes clingy and touchy to them but then when they touch him hes sensitive to that? i dont know whay thr fuck im saying

[quwh]

i miss my wife 🙁

[quwh]

i love him so much i kinda tear up when i read fanfics of him being happy, like even x reader ones. like awh hes so happy loving yn. cant rlly self insert but i just im so happy in another universe, in that fanfiction, hes happy!! awh awh awh awhh

[quwh]

no like its hard to explain when i think about or get asked “whys he your favorite character?” “why do you like him so much?”

ill reply, i dont know.

but i do know, but its not just “oh hes attractive”. its him. hes on my mind all the time. i can relate anything to him. i like him, a lot. his story from the end to the start. his personality. his relationships with people around him. his habits, his perfections, his flaws, his mistakes, his actions. they all make up “my favorite character” so no, i dont like him just cause hes cool, strong, attractive. i like him, i love him.

i dont love him like i want to date him, maybe i do but that’s not why i love him. i love him like i wish him all the best. if i could, id sacrifice everything i have for his happiness. make him smile at my expense. and i dont need to be the special one he chooses, i dont care if he would never know who is the one loving him or helping him.

hes my favorite character.

hes my favorite.

[quwh]

edging battle

oneshot- enemies to lovers: donald x joe ❤️

nsfw!!

all written in third person, first time writing !!

agh!! donald, i know youre feeling g-gyat- i mean good.. s-ski-so just let it all out, yeah? *biden said seductively, persuading trump to lose*

*trump scoffs* like hell i would! *they both stare intensely into eachothers orbs* ngh! fuck!! i- i cant do it yet… i need to win this edge battle…! *trump mutters to himself as he keeps edging*

heh, seems like youre having a hard time? *biden taunts him* itd just be easier if you just, let yourself do it. i know you want you *biden says seductively, leading to trump’s heartbeat skipping a beat* what are you saying…! *trump whimpers as he feels himself almost releasing* n-no!! i c-cant…! i have to-! *trump stutters desperately as biden lets out a low, dominant groan* aghmn… *this low vibration sent shivers down trumps spine as his heart felt like he was about to explode. it was bidens orbs staring into his, squinting them and furrowing his eyebrows as he let out that heavenly groan. it made trump want to submit to him, and even though that was the last thing he wanted, biden just looked so, so dominant and beautiful to him in that moment. he couldnt help it, it just came out* nnghyaaa!! *trump let out a feminine loud moan as he lost the edge battle* i… noo!! *i cried as biden smirked at him, proud of his victory* that was quick, sweetie. *trumps eyes widen at the sudden nickname, did he just call him sweetie?* s-shut your gyatt…! *trump says, embarassed* i guess thats enough for today *biden said, satisfied as he walked out the door, leaving trump surprised and in love*

im sorry for this

[quwh]

reread, deadass one of my fav gojo fanfic i actually cry a bit everytime 😞 THE “it's too hard doing the thing of being in love without being able to do the things of being in love.” IS SO GOOD HELLO????

◞  YEARNING OBSERVING YEARNING. 

꒰ satoru has been gone for three months thus far and you’re at the end of your rope with missing him. ꒱ 

ᴍᴅɴɪ. 5.2k. f!reader. no curses, idol au. fluff. angst. happy ending. est/semi-ldr. satoru’s a successful idol. sfw. reposted.

you know that this is his dream, but the loneliness you’re constantly left to face is becoming genuinely unbearable. long distance dynamics are not at all for the faint of heart. there are days when the video calls are all you long for, seeing his adorable face filling up the screen and smiling at you quite lovingly. then, there are days like today when, for a brief, fleeting moment, you consider breaking things off with the love of your life ꒰ and one of the most famous men in the world ꒱, gojo satoru.

it starts with the fact that your friend gets married and you have to go to the wedding all alone because you don’t have a date. your date is busy traveling the world, entertaining the masses, making women everywhere fawn and fall head over heels in love with him. the entirety of the event, you feel out of place with no one to dance with who isn’t a very seedy family member of the wedding party or a friend of yours who came with their own date and can’t act as your stand-in. so you opt to sit at a table alone, drinking your weight in roscato, staring at an open text thread because satoru read your message telling him how hard this was getting for you eleven hours prior but never responds. it hurts.

it’s the fact that you nearly always end up doing things like this alone. times and events where you would, can, or should bring a plus one and yours is actually able to attend with you is seldom. rarities. so painfully sporadic. it’s too hard doing the thing of being in love without being able to do the things of being in love. date nights out on the town? forget it, unless he takes you on an impromptu trip out of the country that’s so unplanned there’s no chance of you both being bombarded by the general public. paris is gorgeous. rome is phenomenal. america is a dizziness of diversity. but who wants to constantly have to pack up to take a thirteen-hour flight or longer for a three-hour date? it’s unnecessarily inconvenient. having a shoulder to cry on? not practical for his schedule. not practical for all the time zones that pack so tightly between you both that his mornings become your late evenings. his downtime is the peak of your busyness. you can only seem to synchronize free time in passing. nothing too long. nothing solid. nothing consistent. nothing secure. nothing remotely reassuring. for you, the foundation of the relationship is crumbling. satoru travels the world with his friends, endlessly doted on by his adoring fans, seeing new sights and forging new moments to reminisce fondly over in the future. but you? you’re stuck at home, stuck at your job that you hate so much and don’t even need but have anyway because working a job you hate is somehow still better than sitting at home with little yuuji and missing the boisterous laughter of your lover strolling through the house for months on end. agonizing ghosts of him singing frank sinatra in the hallway because he ‘loves the acoustics right there’ taunting and haunting you, not comforting in the least. everything is starting to always hurt.

12:22 am. you: i know you’re probably busy, but when you get time, we really, really need to talk about us.

teary-eyed and pouting, you stumble into your bedroom, a little yuuji trotting beside you as you drop your removed heels right at the entry of the bedroom door before slipping into the closet to undress. satoru hates when you do it, leave your shoes lying about, but once again, he’s not here to gripe at you about it or even to ask you to pick them back up. the house is always so empty and eerily quiet these days. everything always is. the house. the other side of the line when you do manage to get in touch with him. your heart. your willingness. the hope that keeps you in this for three years already. it’s all emptied out and vacant.

you just keep thinking about how this isn’t how you want to spend your life: not having a date to events with your friends, only sleeping next to him for a quarter of the year in total, getting by on facetime calls and those two-week periods that he’s allowed to be completely free, coping with still having to share him in that time, and worst of all, getting left on read to a text telling him how hard this is becoming. it’s becoming too much for you, and you know you need to tell him now or you’ll stay by his side, buried under the weight of your resentment. despite his routine absence, he doesn’t deserve that. satoru’s a wonderful man. the kindest one. the most earnest. the strongest. the most innocent. satoru is a good man — a good man who deserves the truth about where missing him is forcing you to stand. you text him again, the need to talk to him becoming borderline desperate.

12:26 am. you: i haven’t heard your voice in two days. i haven’t heard from you at all today. please. can you step away and call me for just a minute? 12:31 am. satoru: really busy right now baby. i was gonna text back as soon as we were done here. m’sorry. been on the move all day. we’ll talk soon i promise. i know you’re having a hard time. i’m trying to get done asap so we can talk. please don’t give up on me.

the last part of his text sends your tears spilling over your waterline. you find yourself sitting down on the floor of the closet in the beautiful gown he paid hundreds for just so you can attend a wedding alone. just so you can be spoken for but live like you’re not because you always get left on your own. you don’t want to give up on him. you don’t want to throw away a whole three years of building even this small, fragment of a life together, but this…this is agonizing. you’re miserable. not with him, but with the distance between you whose presence feels more permanent and more familiar than satoru’s.

12:34 am. you: i’m lonely, satoru. i miss you. i’m not handling all of this well right now. i’m having doubts. serious doubts. i just…we really have to talk, okay? i need you to make time for us to do that tonight. 12:40 am. satoru: baby…angel…are you about to leave me? because i won’t accept it. i won’t agree to you leaving me.

what does he mean he won’t accept it? you aren’t aware that you both can simply protest or completely disregard the verbs the other wants to perform that you don’t like, and why does he get to do so when he’s already left you?

12:41 am. satoru: you know you’re my angel, right? my everything? i love you so fucking much. i know the distance sucks right now, but we’ve gone longer, yeah? it’s been worse but we’ve made it every time, baby. please don’t leave. not like this. give me time. 12:45 am. you: time? is three years not enough? what am i supposed to do? i’m tired of crying every single day. all day. all because i can’t see you. i haven’t spoken to you. you stopped telling me good morning everyday weeks ago so i don’t even wake up to your affection. i can’t get you to answer your phone. i’m just here. taking care of the house and yuuji while you live your greatest life without me by your side. you don’t even need me.

that was the last text he was willing to exchange before he calls you. when you refuse to answer, he calls again. and again. and again.

1:18 am. satoru: answer the phone baby. let’s talk about this okay? love you so much. please pick up.

your stomach flips and you curse yourself because you’re in the starting stages of initiating the end of an era but you’re getting butterflies because he calls you baby, because he says he loves you, because he more than loves you. how can you confidently leave a man who can be thousands of miles away yet still make you feel like this? you’re uncertain if you’re ready for right now and what’s likely to occur or follow. because you say the words and you realize upon sending them that you aren’t angry. you aren’t yelling at him. you’re just stating the truth. you mean it. he doesn’t need you.

the truth is you’re not a priority for him right now because you can’t be. you accepted it for all this time, but thinking about marriage and a real life together, you don’t know if you want to build a future with a man who cannot prioritize building a future with you. this much is on you, on your indulgent heart who wanted to know the taste of his adoration despite knowing the obstacles that come in tow. you met him at a time when he was in the dead center of building a future for himself, and because of his job, you don’t have the luxury of being part of it. his company is vehemently against publicizing your relationship, especially now, especially when everything is so fragile and uncertain in the coming years, especially when satoru has just started inching towards his peak. the craziest part of it all is that neither of you wants to ‘publicize it’ with intention, but you want to go places together, like normal adults who’re dating, and if you guys are seen together then…oh well? but they’re against a single soul knowing you even exist in his world. they’re against you ever being seen at events, behind the scenes, anywhere during his tours. you have to stay at home, out of sight, out of the media, out of his management’s way of making him a star. to them, the rumors are bad enough. mitigating the media on the possibility satoru is dating openly is a headache to deal with let alone an actual, sustained relationship they’d likely have to keep mitigating the media over? it’s nothing personal for management, just business. what future would you guys be able to have like this?

1:23 am. satoru: i’m begging you please answer the phone. please talk to me. don’t give up on us. i miss you too baby. so let’s talk. answer the phone and spend time with me.

so when your phone rings again, ‘mister gojo 🐻’ in big, bold letters on the screen looking like his final plea, you sigh and answer morosely. sniffling, you greet him. “hey,” “angel…angel, you’re killing me.” a deep, shaky sigh. “baby, what’s going on in your head right now? fuck. leaving me? us?” the background is quite noisy and his volume is muffled by the array of sounds behind him: the indistinct chatter of all the others lingering wherever he is, a series of beeping and automated speech over an intercom, the sounds of scraping and rolling and static. it’s so distracting, but he calls you even though it’s horrendously inconvenient. you know it’s because you present a very serious, critical concern in your relationship that he seems to not have been expecting. he sighs immediately, his voice cracking. “i’m sorry i haven’t talked to you, angel. i am. i couldn’t.”   it breaks your heart to hear him sound so wounded by your words, but it’s how you’re feeling about it all. you wipe at your eyes. “i’m in my head because that’s the only place to be. i spend 85% of my time at home entertaining myself when i’m not working. everyone has things to do that don’t include me, and that’s…that’s fine, but feeling lonely when you’re not even alone is torture.” “we’re supposed to be upfront about stuff like this, not let it get so bad that you’re ready to go.” you hear him sniffle on the other side.

it doesn’t anger you, but it is frustrating. you’ve been trying to get in contact with him and talk about the difficulties you’re facing with his absence for days, but it’s either interviews or rehearsals, performances or photoshoots. there’s never even little slivers of time for you. even when he’s getting hair and makeup done, the stylists say he’s too distracted and it’s making applying his makeup harder. his members hate when he tries to talk while they’re all shuffled together traveling. and management gives not even a speckle of a fuck about him having time for you every day. there’s never any time to talk about it. you scoff. “i’ve been trying to for the last few days. you’re always too busy. you don’t text me back. you don’t pick up the phone anymore, baby.” you present the last part as a quiet sorrow. there’s no frustration behind it, only the part of you who’s desperately trying to keep your relationship intact despite all the distance that’s constantly forged between your yearning bodies, and failing.

“you’re supposed to tell me before, baby. like along the way. before it gets so overwhelming that you’re ready to leave me and throw away my entire heart when i’m literally trying to get home to you. before all of that.” you cover your mouth to hold back the sound of your own cries, forcing sniffles and tiny hiccups in the place of moaning and wailing. your vision becomes blurry and fills up with shimmering tears, because satoru is very openly, very audibly crying — small sobs and whimpers between his speech. “who said i don’t need you? who said that?” he asks, voice broken and fearful. “if i didn’t need you, i wouldn’t cry like a fucking baby at night because you’re not with me. i feel sick inside missing you. wishing you were here with me. wishing i could give you a normal fucking relationship, but i’m not in a normal position. you knew that. i told you. i begged you not to give up on me if you were agreeing to do this with me. you said forever and now you’re trying to take it back? no. i don’t accept that. i won’t. so what do i need to do to keep you? what will it take?” “satoru…please…” “no. there’s no please. tell me what i need to do to keep you. because honestly, angel, you’re ripping my fucking heart to shreds right now. we have to figure this out. there’s no way in hell i’m letting you walk away from us.” he sniffs, weak cries still flowing into the phone, painting every crevice of your heart in a shade of aching. “there’s no walking away from us, baby. okay?” your lower lip trembles, overwhelmed by his determination to keep you. maybe you’re wrong about not being a priority. “i’m sorry, satoru. i just…this has been so fucking hard. and then i went to the wedding all on my own. again. and everyone just keeps asking why you never show up with me anywhere. again. it just…it got to me really bad this time. it’s so hard. being completely and utterly taken but having to live practically single because your partner can’t be there. i miss you, satoru. i’m lonely.” “baby, i understand. i get it. i feel that way, too, you know?” his voice is soft, warm even, trying to maintain a sense of calmness, compassion, and love. “it’s hard for me, too.” “is it?” you question very seriously. “because every time i see clips of you from your shows on ig or tiktok, you look like you’re having the time of your life. smiling from ear to ear. being surrounded by so much love that it doesn’t seem to matter to have mine.” he squeaks but then goes silent. you hear the opening of a door and the harsh closing behind it, all the background noise falling completely silent. you hear that he’s still crying at the softest volume he can manage. when he speaks, his voice is softly appalled, brittle, threatening to crumble at any moment.

“how can you say that? how can you suggest you’re the only one in this having a brutal fucking time without the love of their life? because i smile for cameras and for my fans? because i want the people who paid hundreds of dollars just to see me to feel like they got the best version of me so they don’t feel disappointed? you’re taking that and measuring it to missing you? as if i don’t periodically call you in tears from how badly i wanna be with you? as if i don’t tell you how much i love touring but it’s a goddamn depressing time for my personal life because it means leaving my little family behind. you and yuuji. how can you say that? you can’t be here with me. i’m all yours and stuck being far away for so long. you don’t get to come to company banquets or award ceremonies to be there for me, with me. when i win anything, i have to get on stage and fight back my fucking tears because the one person i want to see looking back at me and thank for believing in me can’t be there with me. it kills me. it fucking destroys me inside. don’t tell me it’s not hard for me.”

upon hearing his words, there’s now a thick blanket of guilt covering the top of your sadness, feeling more like it’s suffocating you. you haven’t thought of it that way, from his perspective, haven’t even considered the amount of events he attends alone. he’s with his friends and members, sure, but times and events where he would, can, or should bring a plus one and his is actually able to attend is…never. for you, his presence is seldom. it’s rare, but it is. whereas with him, your attendance is entirely nonexistent. not because you want it that way. not for a lack of trying on your part. “i…you’re right…i can’t say that. it’s not fair.” you admit quietly, voice low and lightly ashamed of the words you say and his experience you disregard. “i’m sorry for saying that to you, satoru.” “let’s just get through this, okay? no apologies. i just want to keep you, and i can’t get off this phone until i know i am.” he sniffles hard. “i love you, angel. you know that, right? you know you’re not in this alone, yeah? we’re in it together.” tears still silently flowing, you respond tenderly. “i know you love me, satoru. i love you, too. but…are you even happy like this? don’t you want more than this?” “what more is there to want? i have exactly what i want and exactly what i need. and both of those things are you. of course, i wish you could be there and be here with me, but i know you’re supporting me no matter what. it pushes me to do my best every time. getting to see you after is the highlight of those evenings. skipping after parties to come crawl into bed with you is my favorite pastime.” you don’t say anything at first. you just wonder where to even go from here. he says breaking up isn’t an option. he says he’s going to stay on the phone until he knows he’s keeping you. he says he’s fine with things as they are, even if they hurt you both, because he has you, and it’s worth the sacrifice. you feel the same way; you do. and maybe for a split second, you just forget, become too jaded by the heaviness of feeling like you’ve been isolated and abandoned. but you recall quite vividly that you told him after the first year together that there’s no separating for you both. only forever and working it out. no forfeiting, only fighting tooth and nail to make it work. “what do i need to do, baby?” he asks, much softer, much more loving. “how can i keep you by my side?” the kaleidoscope of butterflies swarm you. the way it feels, it’s like your heart is free falling, diving to find him and be drowned in all his devotion. “i…i..” you sigh, shaky and defeated. “nothing…nothing at all, satoru. i’m here. i’m sorry. i’m sorry for all of this.” “just needing me?” he asks, his voice small and raspy, teeming with all of his longing. “because…i’m just needing you, too. and it hurts a lot.” although he can’t see, you nod in agreement. it does hurt a lot, a whole fucking lot. your quivering lip and tear-filled eyes can attest to that much. “yeah,” your fragile voice falls as a whisper. “m’just needing you so bad. and it hurts that you’re not here.” “m’on my way, okay? i’ll be home soon.” he promises. “just wait for me. give me a little more time. please, angel. just hold out a little longer for me.” “yeah…okay…okay. i’ll hold out.” you promise. “i miss you.” a sniffle and a declaration. “we won’t have to miss each other for much longer.” in the background, you hear him returning to all the noise. inwardly, you sigh. there’s always something distracting, always something in the way of you both being able to submerge into your time together fully. you both just got over a small hurdle that threatened to end in you leaving this house and the life you made with him inside of it. “it’s so fucking loud in here.” he grumbles. you hum, agreeing. “where are you even?” “airport,” he answers calmly. “connecting flight.”

when he says it, you aren’t sure why it makes you start to cry all over again. maybe because you know it means he’s still gone. he’s still so far away, and he’s not coming home soon. he still has more work to do, more promises to his fans to fulfill, and more time he owes them all. he’s on a connecting flight and probably didn’t anticipate having this conversation right now. he probably planned to be asleep, but he ends up reconciling having to go to their next show utterly heartbroken. “off to your next stop?” you ask, sniffling and continuing to wipe your tears. “yeah…yeah i am. my last one, actually.” he says. “my last flight for a very fucking long time, i hope.” this makes you smile, him talking about coming home, him talking about anything other than being gone for longer than the three months he’s already been. “where’s your last stop?” he chuckles. “i suppose we’ll find out soon enough.” “what? is it like some secret show they didn’t tell you guys about?” you ask him, confused by his response. he hums his uncertainty. “that’s fucking weird.” “yeah, a bit. but, baby…are we good?” he asks timidly. “you’re still mine?” you look down at your knees curled up to your chest, dejection filling up your existence, because you know as soon as you give him the answer he wants, he’ll be off, leaving you on your own again. still, you murmur, “yeah…yeah, i’m still yours.” “good,” he breathes. “no takebacks.” you giggle. “okay,” “promise?” “yeah, baby, i promise.” he sighs his relief. “you had me freaking out, baby. you had me fucking losing it. the thought of you leaving? coming home but it’s not to you? just yuuji and the house we picked together? all our pictures on the wall? i was gonna have a meltdown.” “i’m sorry.” in the closet still, you stand to your feet, finally finding the energy to get up and change into clothes you can sleep in. that’s all you want to do now: go to sleep so you can stop thinking about all of this, so you can have a few hours where missing him isn’t plaguing your existence and stealing the air in lungs, a few hours where his absence isn’t like a chisel to an ice block on your resolve. “no apologies.” his gentle reminder. “no walking away.” your soft agreemet. “i know, baby.” “only loving bear forever.” he adds. “only staying by his side.” you nod, a smile reshaping your lips that had sunk into a melancholic pout. “only loving bear forever. and staying by bear’s side.” “i love you, angel. i have to go, but get some rest. it’s late there. and i just know you left your shoes in the doorway. please pick them up. it’s so unsanitary and yuuji is already a little vacuum for random particles.” much to your surprise, you laugh. “how could you possibly know that?” “because you’re my honey and i know you.” you roll your eyes at him, still smiling fondly, heart bursting with reminders of why it’s him. why you chose him, why you were willing to do the hard part for all this time, why there’s no walking away, why there’s only loving him forever and staying by his side. “of course a bear would be quite familiar with his honey.” you note, nodding as you undress. “you get some rest, too. i love you so much.” “you better love me back.” he grumbles. “goodnight, angel. i love you, too. so, so much.” when the call ends, you find yourself crestfallen, succumbing to all the waves of indubitable despondency. here you are, alone again. ending your night alone again, laying on his side of the bed that doesn’t even smell like him anymore because he’s been a ghost to the egyptian cotton for months, alone again. you change into a big shirt, one of his, because if you can’t have him then you’ll cling to all of the belongings he leaves behind.

you find yourself observing the whole room as you saunter to your overly-sized and overwhelmingly empty bed. there’s pictures everywhere along the walls, all of memories you both have made in the last three years, all a display of the fondness that’s accumulated between you both in all this time, a quilt of attachment you both weave in love together.

he’s right, truly, there’s no walking away. not when every thread of your lives is tangled and stitched together, not when those tangles and stitches are the very seams of who you both are: part of each other. you lay in bed filled with regret about what’s happened, because even though he seems happy that he isn’t losing you, you worry he would start to have doubts of his own now that you’d basically threatened to leave him. does that mean it’ll be on the table for him in the future? when you fall asleep that night, weepy and emotional, a dark cloud of impending doom looming over your head, you wonder why he can’t be there. why can’t you both be together without anything or anyone in the way? the next morning, you wake up groaning because yuuji’s zooming through the house, barking at the top of his baby lungs and you’ve had enough already. how can a creature that hardly weighs 10lbs emit such sounds and project them so loudly? you pull another pillow over your face to drown out the sound. there’s no way it isn’t incredibly early, so yuuji’s behavior is quite honestly disrespectful. “yuu, please.” you whine, pulling blankets over your head. “let mommy sleep.” what alarms you then is the shuffling in the hallway you hear and you spring up, heart racing in your chest thinking that someone’s gotten in and that’s why yuuji’s having a conniption. unsure of what to do, because you have neither weapons nor burglar-combat strength, you decide to crouch down beside the bed, contemplating whether or not you should go ahead and try to wedge yourself underneath it. you aren’t expecting anyone. satoru is god knows where. the only other people with a key are his two best friends outside of his members and parents, but all of those people call before showing up. yuuji’s barking turns into whining, and the voice that coos his name sends your heart clambering up into your throat. “aww, did you miss daddy?” satoru coos in the hallway right outside the bedroom door. “i missed you, too, bud. let’s go see if your mom missed me as much as she says she does.” upon hearing his voice, realizing it’s him and he’s home, you rise to your feet so fast, you nearly fall right back down to the floor. you squeak trying to catch your steps. when you look up, your favorite boy is standing in the doorway to your bedroom, looking at you with a lazy grin spanninng his lips, a huge duffle on his shoulders that he drops immediately upon seeing you. of course, your sobbing and blubbering is instantaneous. “you’re home?” you ask, lips set into a deep pout. “really home?” he nods, ardent eyes melting at the sight of you. “angel, get over here.” and you do. you go around the bed carefully because you have a horrible habit of running into things. you shoot straight for his arms that are wide open and waiting, ready to receive you urgently and without hesitation, scooping you up while your legs wrap around him and your arms go around his shoulders. he’s home. he’s home. he’s home. “why didn’t you tell me?” you ask, so angry and so grateful at the same time. “oh my god, i almost broke up with you on your way fucking home?” the sob you release makes him chuckle, becoming teary-eyed himself.

“i missed you so fucking much. i knew i was coming home early to surprise you. i almost spoiled every-fucking-thing when you tried to leave me.” he told you, hot tears spilling out his eyes. “i didn’t answer for all that time because i was on a twelve-hour flight, baby. we literally had landed to catch our connect. i…baby, i got so scared i was about to come home to an empty house. i got your texts and my fucking heart dropped.” now, he’s moving you both toward your bed. you cradle his cheeks in the palms of your hands, apologetic eyes peering at him. when his eyes meet yours again, you both pause, realizing your irises are merely reflections of the other’s, yearning observing yearning. 

“you have two seconds to kiss me before i devour you.” he warns. “hurry, your bear is ready to hibernate.” “bear doesn’t want a taste of honey beforehand?” you ask seductively. giggling, you close the distance between your mouths, elation and eagerness being traded between breaths. this is truly all you want, all you cried on the closet floor for — a kiss and a halcyon sigh, two arms around you, and sinking into the future you both promised. he grins, a shake of the head, “when bear wakes up, it’ll be spring, and he’s going to eat his fill of honey then.”