ever since nanami met you, his personal space was always invaded. if he was soaking away in the bathtub, you'd be right there. if he fell asleep before you did, you'd snug yourself into his embrace when you're going to sleep.
he didn't mind it— after all, nanami was an enthusiast for physical touch and warmth from body heat instead of a blanket.
perhaps it's too much warmth now. the nights that he spent meticulously balancing cold and hot temperatures are now filled with hot and hot. on one side, there's you with a leg thrown over him. on the other side, there's a baby sleeping soundly on his torso.
it's now common for him to sweat a little, but who cares? there's now a baby in the picture, the euphoria he experiences is at its highest; his domestic family feelings have finally been met with reality. a little sweat is nothing.
again, the overpowering warmth keeps him awake— even when he's shirtless. nanami tries his best to not pay any mind to the drool that's settling on his chest from the baby's mouth. as long as it's peacefully quiet without cries that are louder than an alarm.
with his free hand, he cups your face, caressing the cheek with his fingers. he wants to lay a kiss on your forehead, but he can't risk unintentionally waking the infant. it saddens him, but the small, subconscious smile on your face from his touch is more than enough.
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"i fucking give up," satoru complains, throwing himself on your bed.
"get off my bed?" you complain, throwing the chips at him.
not only was he uninvited, he also messed up your freshly made bed with clean sheets. surely he isn't going to force you into a therapist, right..?
"don't tell me what to do," he speaks, voice muffled as he's face down on the bed, "it's your fault i'm like this anyway."
you pay no mind to him, tossing your phone onto the bed before you go to the bathroom.
"yeah, yeah. i'm the big bad wolf."
satoru turns his head to face your direction. the side of his face's squished, enhancing his pout. ever since he had that dream he's been like this. it's always some fucking dream and never something that happens in real life. to say he's tired is a severe understatement and just disrespectful.
technically, this entire ordeal is his fault — but technically, you're the one who's at major fault! it's not his fault he caught feelings for you which was against the conditions you laid out. it's also not his fault you're exactly his type. totally not his fault you care for him in a way that blurs the line between platonic and romantic. yeah, not his fault.
‘friends with benefits my ass,’ he curses in his mind, watching the closed door of your bathroom. ‘what is she doing? it does not take that long to pee.’
soon after you re-enter the room, wiping your hands on your thighs before calculating your precise landing spot as you jump.
location: on top of gojo satoru's back.
action: completed successfully.
"what the fuck," he groans, turning to throw you off his back.
you laugh softly, patting his leg with your foot. "that's what you get."
he glares at you, mocking your words in a childish tone.
a silence settles in, both you of go on to do your own things. satoru fiddling with the rubix cube on your bedside table, and you were switching through apps on your phone.
it's comfortable, being in a moment of silence with another person. there's no forced feeling to start a conversation; just the way you like it. peace, beautiful peace.
"OKAY!"
startled, you looked at satoru with the physical expression of ‘???’
"are you malfunctioning?" your tone's disgusted, so too is your expression.
satoru sits up, "(y/n), i decided."
"decided what?" you reply, mirroring his action.
"remember that dream i've been talking about?"
"yeah?"
"it was about us. so, basically, i fell in love with you and i know you said you don't want any romantic relationships because of the commitment but i couldn't help it after the dream — i want it to be real, i really—"
"take a breather, satoru," you cut him off, placing a hand over his mouth.
maintaining eye contact with him, you slowly removed your hand, "don't rap your words, ‘kay?"
"yeah," he voice goes soft, breaking the eye contact to look at your hand.
"it's true i'm not looking for any commitment, but who knows? maybe i want you the way you want me," you shrugged.
satoru doesn't replicate your nonchalance. in fact, his jaw dropped approximately thirty degrees down! slamming his hand down on the bed, he leans forward.
"please, please don't be rational right now. thy must listen thee heart, not thou mind," he speaks, pretending that he said a ground-breaking philosophy quote.
"what's with the old english? anyway, i'll try to not be rational."
‘he's nervous,’ you think, noting his habit of biting the skin off his lip.
"don't do that," your arm extends to his face, using your thumb to pull his lip out his teeth. "you'll bruise your lip."
the action causes him to groan, throwing his head back.
"oh fuck you, (y/n). just kiss me if you're gonna do that," he complains, pouting at you.
"if you say so," shrugging again, you pull him down to you, initiating the kiss first.
like he said, you won't be rational. you'll save the regrets or whatever for tomorrow.
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