Untold Adoration

I think about Hannibal Barca atleast thrice a day for the past two years. No idea if it’s because I’m hyper fixating or because I want to fuck this 2000 year old dead man.

Jenny Dolfen just draws him so handsome! Let me go back in time and so I can help him take down the Romans!!!

Trick or Treat

HC for the JJK men and their little ones

WC: 2.5k

TW: Mentions of Miscarriage, pregnant reader (Choso), Pet Names: Honey, Baby, stuff like that. Tooth rotting fluff?

*****

Gojo: 

Satoru had never imagined himself as father material. Taken from his parents at a young age, he was raised by distant mentors and silent servants in traditional hallways. That cold, lonely upbringing was etched into his bones. He had vowed that if he ever had a child, they would never know that kind of isolation. So when you told him you were pregnant, something in him shifted—he found himself diving headfirst into the idea of family. He bought a house in Tokyo, in a warm neighborhood, where children's laughter echoed in the streets. He wanted your child to grow up surrounded by love—something he had craved, but never truly had.

It was Halloween night, and Satoru entered the house with a bright grin. The soft click of the door barely registered before your three-year-old daughter came toddling toward him, her arms stretched out wide. Her bright blue eyes sparkled with pure delight, and the sight made his heart swell painfully in his chest. Without hesitation, he crouched down and swept her into his arms, her sweet laughter filling the room like music he never knew he needed.

“There’s my little pumpkin!” he said, his voice filled with affection as he admired her tiny jack-o'-lantern dress. “I could just gobble you up!” He buried his face in her soft chubby cheeks, blowing raspberries as her squeals and giggles echoed in the air. The joy on her face was everything. 

You stood by the doorway, watching them with a smile that tugged at your lips. Satoru caught your gaze, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the three of you. This was happiness—so simple, yet so profound. “You ready for trick-or-treating?” you asked softly, stepping closer.

He straightened up, pulling you into a gentle kiss, his lips lingering on yours just a little longer than usual. His eyes shone with warmth when he pulled back, the kind of love that left you breathless. “Of course I am. This is her first real Halloween,” he said, his voice soft full of amusement, “and she’s not being carried the whole time.” There was a joy in his voice, but also something deeper, a vulnerability he rarely let surface.

Later, the three of you walked hand in hand down the decorated streets of your neighborhood. Your daughter’s small fingers gripped tightly onto yours, her wide eyes filled with wonder as she took in all the costumes, the glowing pumpkins, and the cobwebbed houses. Satoru held her candy bag, watching her every move with a kind of reverence—like he still couldn’t believe she was real, like he feared this fragile happiness could slip away in an instant. The feeling gnawed at him sometimes, that quiet fear in the back of his mind. But for now, he pushed it away, tightening his grip on your hand to ground himself at this moment.

She waddled up to another door, proudly returning with a handful of candy—and a small pack of raisins. Satoru stared at it, blinking in mock disbelief.

“Raisins? Seriously?” he groaned dramatically, tossing it into the bag with a playful scowl. “Who hands out raisins on Halloween? Let the kids have a sugar high!” His whine was exaggerated, but you knew him well enough to catch the hint of protectiveness in his voice—he wanted her to have nothing but the best, even on a night like this.

You laughed, the sound light and familiar, and Satoru’s expression softened as he scooped your daughter up, placing her gently on his shoulders. She squealed with excitement, her little hands gripping his snow white hair for balance as she beamed down at the world. Satoru chuckled, his heart fluttering at her joy.

As the three of you approached the next house, Satoru glanced over at you, a lump forming in his throat. Moments like these—so small, so filled with love—were everything he’d ever dreamed of, but never thought he could have. He wanted to freeze this moment, to hold onto it forever. The thought of losing any of it, of losing you or her, sent a quiet wave of panic through him. 

He reached out, intertwining his fingers with yours, holding on just a little tighter. 

This was his family. His world. His dream that came to life.

Geto: 

You stepped into the living room, your heart warming at the sight before you. Suguru, your husband, sat on the floor, gently helping your one-year-old into a soft bear onesie. Her baby babbles filled the room, and his quiet coos in response wrapped the moment in a kind of peaceful magic. His fingers moved with ease, buttoning up the tiny onesie, his expression one of complete focus and love.

“Ah-ah, no grabbing the hair," he chuckled softly, gently moving her tiny hands away from his inky black hair, which fell just below his shoulders. A smile tugged at his lips as he looked down at her, his voice playful. "Daddy can’t wait for you to grow out of that phase," he teased, although the fondness in his tone betrayed him. He tugged the little bear hood onto her head, her bright violet eyes looking up at him as she babbled, reaching for him again. “You’re going to make the cutest little brown bear, aren’t you?” he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness as he scooped her into his arms.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face, warmth blooming in your chest as you watched them.

Suddenly, the sound of tiny footsteps thundered down the stairs as the twins, Mimiko and Nanako, burst into the room. They had just turned six this year, and tonight they were full of excitement for Halloween. Mimiko was dressed in a little black dress with matching bear ears, going as a black bear cub, while Nanako twirled in a white dress—an impractical choice for trick-or-treating, but she insisted on being a polar bear cub. You and Suguru, in matching park ranger outfits, were there to guide your little bear cubs.

“Well, you both look absolutely adorable,” you chimed, your voice bright with amusement. The twins giggled, bouncing on their heels with barely contained energy, their excitement almost tangible.

Suguru stood up, balancing your youngest on his hip as she reached for her sisters’ ears, her little hands stretching curiously toward them. Mimiko and Nanako burst into giggles, leaning in so their baby sister could touch the soft fabric of their costumes. 

“How precious,” Suguru murmured, his voice so quiet you almost missed it. His violet eyes, usually sharp and calculating, softened as he gazed at his girls. In that moment, the world seemed to still. This—his family—was everything. Every challenge, every battle, every dark night that had threatened to swallow him whole, had led him here. To this. The thought made his chest ache, the love almost too much to bear.

But just as the peace settled over him, he snapped back to reality with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Hold on—pictures first!” he announced, moving with determined speed toward the camera.

A collective groan rose from the three of you, knowing full well that once Suguru got into “picture mode,” you were in for a marathon. His insistence on capturing every perfect angle meant this was going to take longer than any of you were prepared for.

“Honey! We have to meet Satoru for trick-or-treating in an hour!” you called after him, your tone part exasperation, part amusement, as you hurried to grab the camera from his eager hands.

A laugh escaped his lips as he turned to face you, his eyes meeting yours with a look so full of affection it nearly took your breath away. Behind that playful, beautiful exterior, there was something deeper—gratitude. A thankfulness that you had stayed with him through his darkest times, through every shadow that had tried to pull him under. You had given him this life, this family, and in doing so, you had brought him happiness and purpose he had once thought impossible.

“I promise it won’t take long,” Suguru chuckled, though the knowing smile on his face said otherwise. You rolled your eyes, unable to help the fond laugh that escaped you.

Nanami: 

“Honey, I am so sorry,” Nanami called out the moment he stepped through the front door of the apartment. His voice was tinged with exhaustion, but also with an apology that spoke of guilt. “Did you already—” His sentence cut short, the words dying in his throat as a sigh escaped his lips. His usual stoic expression softened into a gentle smile as his eyes landed on the scene before him.

Your son, perched on the kitchen island, sat with a wooden spoon clutched in his tiny two-year-old hands, covered in flour and batter. You stood nearby, also dusted in flour, your hair a little messy, but your face bright with warmth. 

“Surpwise!” your son squealed, his hands outstretched, proudly showing off the wooden spoon caked with batter like it was the best gift in the world.

Nanami loosened his tie as he walked closer, his exhaustion melting into quiet laughter as he took in the sight. “What’s all this?” he chuckled, eyeing the assortment of cookies spread out across the counters. The soft sounds of "Peanuts: The Big Pumpkin" played in the background, filling the apartment with a cozy, nostalgic atmosphere.

“Well,” you began, smiling up at him as you wiped some flour from your cheek. “Our little one here is still a bit too young for trick-or-treating, so we decided to bake! He’s been an amazing little helper, though we’re still working on not eating all the batter,” you laughed, gesturing toward the sticky spoon in your son’s hand. “We’re making pumpkin bread, just for you.”

Nanami’s eyes softened even more, the corners crinkling slightly as he looked down at you with a tenderness that made your chest warm. He got so caught up in work—too often, really—and it wasn’t unusual for him to miss out on little moments like these. The guilt was always there, lingering just behind the tired smiles.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be here sooner,” he murmured, brushing a hand through his hair, his frown deepening. “Ino-kun needed help on a mission. The poor kid is too young to be handling those kinds of assignments alone.”

You noticed the tightness in his shoulders, the way the weariness clung to him, but before you could offer comfort, his frown deepened. You tilted your head, confused. “Invite him over.”

Nanami blinked, clearly surprised.

“I know Itadori-kun is out with Choso and his wife tonight,” you continued with a grin. “We’ve got way too many baked goods for the three of us. Plus, Ino-kun is great with kids. It’d be nice to have him over.” 

Nanami’s expression softened once again, the guilt in his eyes easing slightly as he nodded. “I’ll give him a call.”

And, of course, Takuma came running the moment he was invited, bursting through the door with an enthusiasm that made your son squeal with excitement all over again.

Later that evening, the four of you nestled together on the couch, watching the children’s movie play on the screen. Your two-year-old babbled constantly, munching on cookies and randomly pointing at the TV, too excited to focus on any one thing for long. But eventually, his chatter quieted, and he began to drift off, his tiny head resting comfortably on Nanami’s lap. 

Takuma, too, had succumbed to the peaceful atmosphere, falling asleep beside you with crumbs still on his shirt. You gently draped a blanket over him, smiling as he snuggled into it without waking. 

Nanami glanced down at the sleeping form of your son, his hand gently brushing through the little one's hair. There was a peacefulness in his expression, a quiet contentment that made your heart swell. These were the moments that made everything else—his work, the stress, the guilt—worth it. 

There was something special about this quiet, cozy life you had built together. It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours. And in these small, fleeting moments, it felt like everything you needed.

Choso:

Choso sat beside you on the couch, his brows furrowed in concentration as he wrapped yet another blanket around your pregnant belly. You already had two draped over you, but it was clear he wasn’t taking any chances. This was your miracle baby, the one who had made it past the third trimester after two heartbreaking miscarriages. Choso was determined to make sure everything went smoothly, even if it meant over-preparing for a causal movie night.

“We’re watching Human Earthworm right?” Yuji chimed as he entered the living room, arms full of snacks and his usual bright smile lighting up his face. “It’s perfect for Halloween!”

Before you could answer, Choso’s deep stoic voice cut through the room. “No.”

Both you and Yuji exchanged surprised glances. Choso rarely said no to his younger brother, always indulging his whims. But tonight, his protectiveness was palpable.

“It’s bad for the baby,” Choso continued, his voice unyielding as he placed a gentle hand on your swollen belly. His touch was tender, but his expression was serious. “It’ll scare them.”

You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, the contrast between his stoic demeanor and his caring nature was always endearing. “My love, it’ll be fine,” you reassured him, but he shook his head firmly.

“No,” he said again, unwavering. He reached over to the side table and picked up a DVD case, holding it up with a hint of determination in his eyes. “We’re watching Mickey Mouse: Halloween Special. I did research. It’s good for babies.”

A wobbly smile formed on his lips, clearly trying to look confident in his decision. His desire to protect both you and the baby was overwhelming, even if it was a bit… over-the-top.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Maybe not that,” you replied gently, glancing over at Yuji, who was trying to suppress his own laughter but looked more determined than ever.

Yuji nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation but still hoping for something more entertaining than a Mickey Mouse special. “Okay, okay… what about The Nightmare Before Christmas? It’s not too scary, I promise!”

Choso’s frown deepened, his protective instincts kicking in. “No. It has bugs. Scary scenes. You might get frightened, and then the baby will get scared.” His hand never left your belly, as if he could shield your little one from any imagined harm.

After what felt like an hour of back-and-forth negotiations, Choso finally relented. He agreed to The Nightmare Before Christmas—but only on the condition that you promised to close your eyes during any parts he deemed “too scary.” His hand remained firmly on your belly, monitoring for any kicks or signs of distress, his focus unwavering throughout the movie.

Even though you knew it was silly, Choso’s constant vigilance filled you with warmth. It was more than just about the baby. He was watching over both of you, ensuring nothing—no matter how small—would cause harm or discomfort. You leaned into his side, smiling softly. He squeezed your hand in response, his gaze still fixed on your belly.

******

a/n: I was going to wait until Halloween to post this but I just could not wait! My baby fever was cured (for now) while writing this. I couldn't think of anything good for Toji right now, he's kind of hard to write for.

. . . Soon.

ranking types of hugs he'd be comfortable with another guy giving his gf! a gojo satoru fic/drabble

cw: gojo x reader, established relationship, fluff LOLLL, gojo being a pathetic loser for his gf, use of baby, babe, reader referred to as gf and wears makeup, gojo being jealous, crack, based off this (instagram link)

"Ranking types of hugs I'd be comfortable with another guy giving my girlfriend." Satoru squints at the scene, reading out the caption on the TikTok as he watches the guy on the screen, long ass spider legs laid out on the couch while waiting for you to get ready. Curiously, he clicks on the filter without fully watching the video and starts filming to generate the different types of hugs.

"A back hug." The curious smile on his face slowly fades away as a grimace takes place as he gains the thousand yard stare. "Nine. Okay, not at a good start so far—"

He groans, face scrunching in pain as he exhales out at what he sees on the screen: slow dance hug. Then, he imagines you, a man's hand on your waist and you smiling just like those stupid fucking drawings at someone who's not him—"Ten. Oh my fucking god."

Clutching the lower half of his face, he looks concentrated as he waits for the shuffler to give him some less painful option, groaning in pain once again, looking back at the scene, and then groaning again. "One armed hug," he strains out, blindly reaching for the lowest number he could rank it as.

The filter shuffles yet again, and he's almost in tears, groaning immediately on instinct but then doubling back at his screen. "Polite hug." He contemplates it. "Okay, a two, not so bad, not so—"

A pause. "A classic hug." He stares at the screen like it just betrayed him, until he decides it's not so bad. Reluctantly, he ranks it at three.

Then, he waits for the filter to give him another painful vision, and it delivers. "A slow catcher hug—oh my godddd." Satoru is shaking his head, eyes teary as he groans loudly at the though of you jumping up to another man, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him in for a hug. If someone was listening to him, it would seem like he was dying with the way he was covering his mouth, shaking his head, and exclaiming "what the fuck"'s as he stared at his phone screen in sheer shock.

Unfortunately for you, you were within earshot, blending in your blush and doing finishing touches as you heard Satoru's shrieks coming in from the living room. He seemed to be on the edge of tears, and worriedly, you set down your brush and rushed to where his sobs were coming from.

And there he was: in fetal position, phone on the floor as he shook his head as if in shock. "Baby," you hurried to him, grabbing his face so you could figure out what was making him so distressed.

He didn't seem to be injured as he meets your eyes, upset. "I can't do this bruh," he laments while turning to be on his back and rubbing his eyes. You just look at him confused.

"Do what?"

He turns, and pauses. Scans you in your champagne dress for the fancy place he was taking you and the way you did your makeup so sultry. It's just for him, but after the events of that Tiktok—that's now stopped filming—all he feels is petty jealousy because other guys can see you like this.

Out of nowhere, he declares, "I can fight."

You blink. "What?"

"I can fight," he repeats, nodding emphatically as if trying to convince himself. Then, after a beat: "Why do I have such a pretty girlfriend?" He groans again, throwing his arm over his eyes. "Baby, why do you look so good right now?"

While he does this, you inspect him for any signs of injuries or things that could've caused him this much distress. Feeling his forehead while he continues on his rambling and moaning, you decide he's not immediately dying and then get up to return to your vanity.

Used to his theatrics, you sigh and pat his cheek. "I’m going to finish getting ready," you say, deciding he’s not in mortal peril after all.

As you return to your vanity, Satoru calls after you, still sulking. "Just so you know, I ranked the polite hug at two. Because I love you. And I can fight."

"Good to know, Satoru."

a/n lowk spiderman!gojo coded. i love writing fluff i would lowk want to write this for nanami i feel like he would slowly grow more and more jealous LMAOAO

Victor x Artist!Reader Imagine

a lil angsty at the end, will definitely become a full separate fic later

edit: Fic has been started! First chapter here

Imagine Viktor falls in love with an artist designated to paint the HexTech creators for some new Progress Day Art Hall or something.

╔═*✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧-✦-✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧*═╗

You both stay up at all hours of the night over working yourselves to make deadlines. You both have a need to be remembered but in different ways. For Viktor, it's to improve lives. For you? It's to help capture history. It feeds his ego and he becomes your muse.

As Jayce spends more and more time on his councilor duties, there's more time for the two of you to get to know each other. What starts as shared quick dinners, late night coffees, and library trips; turns to forced naps, tidying of each other's spaces, and gentle massages.

Quiet moments of intimacy are shared during the early hours of golden light in the lab. Midday forays into a nearby studio result in evidence of your new romance as swathes of color beneath ruffled clothes.

He gets used to you tracing intricate patterns on his skin, you get used to falling asleep to his exhaustion honeyed voice going over notes. Many of your more passionate nights have ended with some paint on his body. Viktor loves the coolness of your brush, of your pigment soaked touch. It relaxes him on days where his leg is sore, or his shoulder from over-supporting on the crutch. He'll rub your neck when you've spent too long bent at a weird angle trying to get a line just right.

It's a tender and slow love. One that exponentially builds in your mutual affections, one that crashes down after the attack on Piltover's council.

This time it is him who leaves his mark on you, his slender fingers have lost their warmth when they grace your face. The weight is familiar, but the emotion is not. When he calls your name, the mirth and soft laughter is replaced with a metallic echo. You lean into him all the same. The multicolor chroma of his fingertips mimicking marks you've left long ago.

╚═*✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧-✦-✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧*═╝

---------.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ -Headcanon Master List·-*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .----------

------------‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙· Master Fic List *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊--------------

silly little games | king!sukuna x concubine!reader

tw: pregnant reader, light talk about weight

“You dare place your eyes upon the woman who is carrying my child?” Sukuna was quick to accuse the farmer, who was next to walk up in today’s hearing. 

The poor man had barely gotten the chance to fully kneel in front of the king before the accusation, as if he wasn’t terrified enough to face the man who was known for his sadistic streak.

“N-no not at all my king. I would ne–”

“Silence!” The said king cuts him off, causing everyone, including you, to flinch. 

And your jaw nearly drops as you look up at him, grinning like a cheshire cat, his lower eye looking back at you. 

He’s doing this for fun. 

While you’re pretty much free to act however you want behind closed doors, you still have a job to do in the face of others. That was to stay silent, act docile– really the only rule he had for you because trying to tell you what to do was rather tiring for the king at this point, nor does he have the heart to do that nowadays. 

“Go on– take a look,” Sukuna began to prod at the poor man. 

“I-I really wasn’t, I swear!” 

“I said look!” He snapped again and you swore the walls slightly rattled from it. 

And the farmer did, being scared for his life and all. Sukuna didn’t stop there either. He interrogated the man for the next 20 minutes, asking him how your kimono looked on you and making him guess how many months along you were.

He then accused the poor man of calling you heavy for guessing that you were 6 months instead of 4 and a half months.

While everyone in that room thought the king was being dead serious, this was just another silly little game to him. He knows how much you hate violence and since you’ve gotten pregnant, he’s toned it down a notch whenever you attend hearings. 

So now he resorts to making people think he’s going to punish them, playing mind games with them and inevitably making them beg for his forgiveness. 

The other week he got a man to admit to a crime he never even did and Sukuna wouldn’t stop fucking laughing about it during dinner later that day. 

And you’re sure he’ll be laughing about this tonight.

—

“What is wrong with you?” You nearly scoff at him the moment you two are finally alone. 

“A lot,” he easily says, like it’s a no brainer. 

“That poor man looked like he was about to have a heart attack!”

“Don’t get all righteous with me now, sweetheart,” he points his finger at you. “You’re the one who’s quick to throw profanities at me when your meals are late by even a minute– an offense that's punishable by death.” He reminds you, quickly changing the subject.

“Because I have a child to feed,” you argue back and you can tell he’s fighting back a smile. 

“That is no reason for you to berate the king. Tell me, do I look like one of the cooks?” 

“No, you do not. You don’t even look like you know how to fry an egg,” You roll your eyes as you turn on your heel, beginning to walk away from the man.

“And where do you think you’re going? Did I give you permission to leave? Get back here you fucking brat!” He all but tries to keep his demanding tone, despite already going after you.

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viltrumite mark is always finding some kind of excuse to be with his wife

a long expedition to another planet? oof sorry but he just has too many things to do on viltrum sorry *goes home and cuddles his wife*

Nolan banging his head against the wall because how TF is his son this down bad for a human, I just know he's SEETHING.

Anyway, here's a blurb, this is later down the line when reader is compliant for her safety:

"Dear, get up." Mark whined as he nuzzled his face further into your lap, you sat at the vanity rearranging your items for the umpteenth time, there wasn't much to do anyway.

"I refuse." He groaned into your thighs, arms locked around your legs. "I can't take the quiet or chaos of another expedition. I want to stay here, with you."

A knock resounded from the door. "Your imperial majesty? We're ready for your departure." That was supposed to be his cue to move, but he was still, his breathing soft as he sat on his knees and cuddled into your warm thighs. "Mark."

"Tell them to go ask dad. Or anyone else. Please, anyone else." He looked up at you with so much exhaustion and adoration, like he wanted you to lecture his attendants for asking him to do his job. You let out a sigh bordering on a hum, running your hand through his hair. "You can't stay here forever."

"No," he laid his head back on you, pressing his cheek against you now as your hand settled in his hair. "But I can stay for as long as I possibly can."

He wasn't moving, not now, not in 5 minutes, not in a while. Your expression became frustrated, standing up and ignoring his little whine as you moved away to get to the door.

"Dear— please don't. I'm not feeling well- I don't think it's good for me to go now-" His train of invalid excuses paused as he heard the door clack open a crack.

"He's still recovering from the injuries from his last expedition, check with his father or anyone with a high ranking to join you. Emperor's orders." Your smooth order was mostly imitation from when you heard him speak, Mark's expression went from surprise to glee.

The Viltrumite at the door didn't question you, they knew better. The door clacked shut and as if on cue, Mark's defined hands wrapped around your body and hid his face in your neck. "Thank you, thank you. I cannot express my gratitude enough."

You mentally cursed yourself for being so fast to break against that sad puppy dog look.

Clan leader!Gojo who makes you sit at the head table at every meeting n’ every time the Elders ask him to make a decision, he kicks his feet and asks you.

Clan leader!Gojo who barely pays attention to anything said, instead too busy admiring his gorgeous wife. Kissing her knuckles, and - if you let him - slide his hand over your thigh, uuuuup past your silky robes.

Clan leader!Gojo who stares down any Elder that brings up the issue of an heir, who might even seat you on his lap and tell you to get yourself off on his high if they want him to “fuck ya pregnant so bad.”

I just. KNOW. Choso is the type of guy to let the alarm wake the whole neighborhood without letting go of your waist in the morning. He doesn't want you to leave the bed just yet, you're too warm, too soft...too cuddly.

"Mmmmh...just five minutes" that end up being 10... 15...30... A whole damn hour of him repeating those words with his deep, husky, sleep-drunk voice in your ear. "Five minutes and I'll let you go" and he nuzzles his nose further into the crook of your neck.

That's exactly why there's no chance you'll make it out of bed on time in the morning...

their reactions to you smothering them with kisses and then running away

ft. gojo, geto, nanami, toji, shiu, higuruma

fluff, just fluff, they're so in love and soft its sickeninggg