Welcome .ᐟ Hello, I'm Ria! I’m Desi, Gojoholic, and this is a writing blog I started just for fun. I’m new to writing and navigating Tumblr, so I hope everyone is patient with me and I hope everyone enjoys my work <3
⟡ blog established on 6 Sept. 2025
Mainly Jujutsu Kaisen / Genshin Impact but also multi fandom! Random one shots and scenarios, and maybe if i’m motivated enough then sometimes a series :3
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Divider by @dollywons , header art by @/chuucho95 on X
I just watched project hail mary and all i want rn is a good nerdjo fic which actually focuses on him being smart and passionate about his subject instead of just… mindless smut. Like i’m genuinely begging PLEASE give me good fic recs 🙏
If anyone has any teacher gojo fic recs asw please drop them ❤️
I just watched project hail mary and all i want rn is a good nerdjo fic which actually focuses on him being smart and passionate about his subject instead of just… mindless smut. Like i’m genuinely begging PLEASE give me good fic recs 🙏
If anyone has any teacher gojo fic recs asw please drop them ❤️
tags: fluff, sfw, crack, super cutesy stuff, not so valentines tho..
wc: 1.7k
a/n: softkuna nation rise!!1!1!
“My lord… we have tried, but her lady just doesn’t seem to let go of her sour mood…”
Uraume whispered to Sukuna, who stood beside them with his big, burly arms crossed, the lower pair resting on his hips and a look of slight confusion on his face, mixed with his permanent scowl.
“Hm.”
In front of them both stood you, your arms crossed and expression one of a grumpy cat, bottom lip jutted out as you glared up at your husband, who seemed to be a little closer now.
“Wife-“
“Do not 'wife' me, Ryomen Sukuna.”
The man had come back home after weeks of destroying villages and tending to matters, and he made sure to come back soon enough so that Uraume and the other servants wouldn’t have to face the wrath of a pregnant wife.
Unfortunately, he misjudged how quickly your mood changes. Uraume has kept him updated through letters, and he knows you haven’t been feeling quite jolly the past few days.
He did not realise his ‘matters’ would take so long.
Thus, an angry wife on Valentine's morning.
“ I took care of all of your whims and fancies before I left. I should not be receiving half a dozen letters from Uraume every week regarding your distaste for the holiday decorations put up as per your interests.”
He said simply, looking down at you. He shows less emotion, but anyone could tell that the King of Curses is hoping his wife doesn't maul his face off with her claws at the moment.
All you did was scrunch your face in further defiance, which left Sukuna with no option other than to iterate the same expression, but in a more serious manner.
"Do I have to make you speak, wife?"
"You are a horrible husband."
You said, before turning around and stomping back into the open garden, leaving your husband and his attendant both confused.
Uraume then looked at Sukuna, their eyes conveying enough words for the King to understand just how unpredictable his wife has been.
He silently sits down beside you as you sit with your back against the tree trunk, fiddling with the wild flowers surrounding the patch of grass, his gaze settled on your pathetic and frustrated little pout.
He may be the lord himself, but lord save him.
"Wife."
He gruffs out, pushing a bowl of fresh-cut peach slices towards you the same way one would push a bowl of rotting fish towards a stray cat in hopes the cat eats it and then snuggles them.
Sukuna had the same mental image, hoping you'd fall for the bait like the cat would.
But you don't even spare him a glance. And he realises that he keeps forgetting-- for you, he's just your cute little demon king husband. Not the fearful King of Curses.
"Don't anger me."
"You can raise hell for all I care. I know you hate me."
You said casually, your brows furrowed as you spoke. You know you're being a little shit, a little insufferable, but again, getting under his skin was the only thing which could make up for him not even being home for Valentine's week.
Sukuna has to swallow down all his pride this time when he shifts just a little closer to you, plucking the flower you held out of your fingers and setting it down. Under usual circumstances, he would have crumpled the pitiful thing up and thrown it elsewhere.
"And why would I hate you?"
His brows furrowed like he wanted to show you he's annoyed by your behaviour, but his voice betrayed his feigned indifference.
You finally looked at him, getting up from your spot on the grass.
"You hate me because burning down villages was more important than staying home with your wife, your valentine!"
Sukuna stayed silent for a moment, but then he heaved out a heavy sigh, having the nerve to massage his forehead with his thumb and index just to show you how stupid your reasoning is.
But it's not stupid, and he knows that.
"You should know that every time I set out on my expeditions, I come back home after weeks."
He tried to reason, but you were quick to shoot back.
"But you didn't even send a letter! And now you're acting like I'm being insufferable."
"You are being insufferable,"
Sukuna said. You stood up and walked away, and his brows furrowed.
"Where do you think you're going?"
You turned your head back to face him, still scowling.
"Away from you because you clearly hate me!"
Sukuna scowled as well.
"At least eat the peaches, brat!"
"Don't talk to me!"
You said, before angrily waddling off the green fields, while he sat there, a low 'tch' leaving his mouth as he grabbed the bowl of peaches ungracefully and threw the pieces of fresh cut fruit into his mouth.
"And what else is on that list?"
"Um... My Lord..."
Uraume doesn't speak further, sweatdropping as they show Sukuna the list of food items, before dropping the paper until it unfurled and... hit the floor.
A pregnant woman and her demands. No wonder you're his wife.
"Is that all?"
Sukuna's eyes were closed shut, a deep sigh leaving his lips, and a vein popping out on his forehead.
"Yes, my lord."
A moment of silence passed by, which was spent with Sukuna trying to understand what he's done to be deprived of his 'usually-sweet-wife's' kisses and cuddles, while Uraume's gaze flickers across the hall in hopes of anything to break the silence.
"My lord... the chefs have been working since morning to complete all the food items listed, and--”
"Tell them to disperse."
Sukuna said, his eyes opening now as Uraume looked up at their master with their eyes wide and mouth agape.
"... What?"
Uraume gaped.
"... How much is there left to cook?"
Sukuna knew he'd regret the answer.
"More than half the list, my lord."
There's only one way to make it up to you, and the night before he left, he remembered you sleep-talking and muttering different food items under your breath.
"Cheesecake...."
"Tempura..."
"Yakitori..."
"Eel..."
All in between you going "honk-mimimi" the entire night. So, as the loving and dutiful husband Sukuna is, of course, he would recreate every dish you had listed off that night. And that list was quite... long. But after hours of slaving away and taste-testing (devouring) the food with his stomach-mouth, he was finally done.
"Don't fight me, woman. You will like it."
He muttered as he tried to pick you up and jostle you awake, but you've been ignoring him since last night and are continuing to do so, your brows furrowing as you grumbled.
"No, let me sleep."
You said before face planting onto the pillow, and Sukuna made an audible sound of dissatisfaction as he maneuvered you till your bloated tummy was not pressing against the mattress.
"Can't even sleep properly."
He muttered, and you sharply turned your head back towards him, glaring.
"I'm already angry at you, and you're still being mean!"
You said, making him sigh. You're right, he's... not been very 'loving' since he arrived back home. Not like he ever is, his way of expressing love is being mean.
But right now you need him to be sweet to you, and you need him to be considerate of your mood swings, which you don't even know are in full swing right now, and if that's what gets you to finally let him carry you down to the dining hall, then so be it.
"Wo- my love..."
He murmured now, leaning down and brushing your hair away from your pouty face. He pauses, then lets out a deep, deep sigh.
"...I'm sorry."
He whispered, trying to hold back a grimace and hiding it by kissing your temple gently. Man, he hates apologizing.
"Will you let me redeem myself? Give me the chance to, at least?"
This was so out of character for him. He hates this. But also, the way your entire face softens, and the pout disappears, makes him think that for once, apologizing might be worth it.
And that's how you end up bundled up in his arms, being carried to the dining hall by his four arms cocooning you against him.
"This better be worth it, Kuna-"
You're cut off by the heavenly, mouth-watering scent of food. Lots and lots of delicious food. You look ahead to see the dining hall table, long and stretching endlessly with heaps of dishes, and catching a glimpse of a few- no, almost everything you've been craving.
Your wide-eyed expression makes Sukuna smirk just a slight bit.
"Bein' all pouty and grumbly for nothing, huh?"
He said, his gaze on you as you looked at him with huge eyes full of shock, hunger, and love that transcends your love for eating till you drop.
"You... why..?"
"Because my pregnant, pouty nuisance of a wife is always hungry and demanding. So I, the great King of Curses-"
"You made all this?"
He looks at you, and his smirk only widens. You grab his shoulders, and you mirror his expression with a wide smile.
"You cooked all of this for me?"
You asked, and if you weren't in his arms right now, you'd probably be jumping up and down with excitement.
Nothing can compare to the feeling of overwhelming fondness that takes over his heart at the moment. He walks over to the seat laid out for him and you, sitting down and placing you on his lap as he kisses your temple, before giving one of your cheeks a little pinch.
"Go ahead, wife. Eat to your heart's content."
He said, and you inspected the dining table with sparkly eyes. In no time, your cheeks were stuffed full with food, and Sukuna was all soft-eyed with the faintest smile on his lips, watching you eat and letting you feed him momentarily. But he was feeding you most of the time.
"Does the wife forgive me now?"
His arms pulled you closer into his chest, thumb brushing away a crumb from your mouth as he put his forehead against your temple.
You smile, cheeks still puffed up like a chipmunk storing chestnuts inside its mouth, "Call me your valentine first."
You demanded with a little grin, gulping down your food. Sukuna rolls his eyes, shaking his head.
"Greedy woman..."
"C'mon..."
He sighs. Again.
"... My wife. My nuisance of a valentine."
He mutters with irritation under his breath, but the underlying hint of fondness and the kiss he places on your cheek after contrasts with his tone enough.
a/n: cause i missed valentines day and it was my birthday two days ago and I wanted sukuna fluff :3
He’s always all up in your space. Like okay, you’re his wife, sure, but is there any need for him to be cheek-to-cheek with you every time he’s in close proximity to you?
“Honey!”
He ran up to you, slinging his big wolf’s gravestone claymore aside onto the patch of grass in the middle of the city as he immediately picked you up and twirled you around with his big, strong forearms supporting you like you were as light as a feather.
“Wha— Varka put me down! What the hell?-“
You squirmed and hit his shoulders as he twirled you around, a wide goofy smile on his face.
This man has just come back from war, and he’s being all giggly seeing his wife.
The list went on, each one delivered with an exaggerated smooch of his lips onto your cheek, the soft skin on your face starting to burn just a little with every kiss delivered because he forgot to shave his stubble.
“Varka, we’re in public…”
You mumbled, a huge flush of embarrassment on your cheeks. But this was nothing new, oh no. Everyone around you was watching, but they were all just smiling fondly at the scene. It was rather familiar for them anyways.
This clinginess of his continues outside the walls of your home and inside too. He’s arm in arm with you, showing you off to everyone in the city with that loud chest-vibrating laugh of his and the occasional small talk with anyone he walks past, while you burn in embarrassment next to his huge frame.
He’s hauling you back home too, and the second the doors close— his heavy overcoat is shrugged off and he’s picking you up and smothering you in his sweet kisses while you let out groans of annoyance.
But despite your indifference, you're as happy as he is, if not more. You know he’s just giddy and beyond happy he’s back home, smelling the wind, watching the dandelions fly in the air, drinking wine with his knights and most importantly— have you in his arms.
And you are also relieved that you didn’t have to write pathetically love sick letters to him for another two weeks for the time being.
Because despite how annoying and embarrassing he could be, Varka’s love is loud. It reaches everyone, but it’s only ever meant for his sweet wife.
a/n: Two posts back to back? no way
im literally gonna do anything to get varka atp... 🥀 This (NOT PROOFREAD) drabble has been rotting in my drafts for months and im posting it now cause im on 50/50 and I need that fine ass beefy man.
pls wish me luck on my varka pulls in 5 days... lowkey going to swan dive off a cliff if i dont get him 💔
tags: fluff, sfw, crack, super cutesy stuff, not so valentines tho..
wc: 1.7k
a/n: softkuna nation rise!!1!1!
“My lord… we have tried, but her lady just doesn’t seem to let go of her sour mood…”
Uraume whispered to Sukuna, who stood beside them with his big, burly arms crossed, the lower pair resting on his hips and a look of slight confusion on his face, mixed with his permanent scowl.
“Hm.”
In front of them both stood you, your arms crossed and expression one of a grumpy cat, bottom lip jutted out as you glared up at your husband, who seemed to be a little closer now.
“Wife-“
“Do not 'wife' me, Ryomen Sukuna.”
The man had come back home after weeks of destroying villages and tending to matters, and he made sure to come back soon enough so that Uraume and the other servants wouldn’t have to face the wrath of a pregnant wife.
Unfortunately, he misjudged how quickly your mood changes. Uraume has kept him updated through letters, and he knows you haven’t been feeling quite jolly the past few days.
He did not realise his ‘matters’ would take so long.
Thus, an angry wife on Valentine's morning.
“ I took care of all of your whims and fancies before I left. I should not be receiving half a dozen letters from Uraume every week regarding your distaste for the holiday decorations put up as per your interests.”
He said simply, looking down at you. He shows less emotion, but anyone could tell that the King of Curses is hoping his wife doesn't maul his face off with her claws at the moment.
All you did was scrunch your face in further defiance, which left Sukuna with no option other than to iterate the same expression, but in a more serious manner.
"Do I have to make you speak, wife?"
"You are a horrible husband."
You said, before turning around and stomping back into the open garden, leaving your husband and his attendant both confused.
Uraume then looked at Sukuna, their eyes conveying enough words for the King to understand just how unpredictable his wife has been.
He silently sits down beside you as you sit with your back against the tree trunk, fiddling with the wild flowers surrounding the patch of grass, his gaze settled on your pathetic and frustrated little pout.
He may be the lord himself, but lord save him.
"Wife."
He gruffs out, pushing a bowl of fresh-cut peach slices towards you the same way one would push a bowl of rotting fish towards a stray cat in hopes the cat eats it and then snuggles them.
Sukuna had the same mental image, hoping you'd fall for the bait like the cat would.
But you don't even spare him a glance. And he realises that he keeps forgetting-- for you, he's just your cute little demon king husband. Not the fearful King of Curses.
"Don't anger me."
"You can raise hell for all I care. I know you hate me."
You said casually, your brows furrowed as you spoke. You know you're being a little shit, a little insufferable, but again, getting under his skin was the only thing which could make up for him not even being home for Valentine's week.
Sukuna has to swallow down all his pride this time when he shifts just a little closer to you, plucking the flower you held out of your fingers and setting it down. Under usual circumstances, he would have crumpled the pitiful thing up and thrown it elsewhere.
"And why would I hate you?"
His brows furrowed like he wanted to show you he's annoyed by your behaviour, but his voice betrayed his feigned indifference.
You finally looked at him, getting up from your spot on the grass.
"You hate me because burning down villages was more important than staying home with your wife, your valentine!"
Sukuna stayed silent for a moment, but then he heaved out a heavy sigh, having the nerve to massage his forehead with his thumb and index just to show you how stupid your reasoning is.
But it's not stupid, and he knows that.
"You should know that every time I set out on my expeditions, I come back home after weeks."
He tried to reason, but you were quick to shoot back.
"But you didn't even send a letter! And now you're acting like I'm being insufferable."
"You are being insufferable,"
Sukuna said. You stood up and walked away, and his brows furrowed.
"Where do you think you're going?"
You turned your head back to face him, still scowling.
"Away from you because you clearly hate me!"
Sukuna scowled as well.
"At least eat the peaches, brat!"
"Don't talk to me!"
You said, before angrily waddling off the green fields, while he sat there, a low 'tch' leaving his mouth as he grabbed the bowl of peaches ungracefully and threw the pieces of fresh cut fruit into his mouth.
"And what else is on that list?"
"Um... My Lord..."
Uraume doesn't speak further, sweatdropping as they show Sukuna the list of food items, before dropping the paper until it unfurled and... hit the floor.
A pregnant woman and her demands. No wonder you're his wife.
"Is that all?"
Sukuna's eyes were closed shut, a deep sigh leaving his lips, and a vein popping out on his forehead.
"Yes, my lord."
A moment of silence passed by, which was spent with Sukuna trying to understand what he's done to be deprived of his 'usually-sweet-wife's' kisses and cuddles, while Uraume's gaze flickers across the hall in hopes of anything to break the silence.
"My lord... the chefs have been working since morning to complete all the food items listed, and--”
"Tell them to disperse."
Sukuna said, his eyes opening now as Uraume looked up at their master with their eyes wide and mouth agape.
"... What?"
Uraume gaped.
"... How much is there left to cook?"
Sukuna knew he'd regret the answer.
"More than half the list, my lord."
There's only one way to make it up to you, and the night before he left, he remembered you sleep-talking and muttering different food items under your breath.
"Cheesecake...."
"Tempura..."
"Yakitori..."
"Eel..."
All in between you going "honk-mimimi" the entire night. So, as the loving and dutiful husband Sukuna is, of course, he would recreate every dish you had listed off that night. And that list was quite... long. But after hours of slaving away and taste-testing (devouring) the food with his stomach-mouth, he was finally done.
"Don't fight me, woman. You will like it."
He muttered as he tried to pick you up and jostle you awake, but you've been ignoring him since last night and are continuing to do so, your brows furrowing as you grumbled.
"No, let me sleep."
You said before face planting onto the pillow, and Sukuna made an audible sound of dissatisfaction as he maneuvered you till your bloated tummy was not pressing against the mattress.
"Can't even sleep properly."
He muttered, and you sharply turned your head back towards him, glaring.
"I'm already angry at you, and you're still being mean!"
You said, making him sigh. You're right, he's... not been very 'loving' since he arrived back home. Not like he ever is, his way of expressing love is being mean.
But right now you need him to be sweet to you, and you need him to be considerate of your mood swings, which you don't even know are in full swing right now, and if that's what gets you to finally let him carry you down to the dining hall, then so be it.
"Wo- my love..."
He murmured now, leaning down and brushing your hair away from your pouty face. He pauses, then lets out a deep, deep sigh.
"...I'm sorry."
He whispered, trying to hold back a grimace and hiding it by kissing your temple gently. Man, he hates apologizing.
"Will you let me redeem myself? Give me the chance to, at least?"
This was so out of character for him. He hates this. But also, the way your entire face softens, and the pout disappears, makes him think that for once, apologizing might be worth it.
And that's how you end up bundled up in his arms, being carried to the dining hall by his four arms cocooning you against him.
"This better be worth it, Kuna-"
You're cut off by the heavenly, mouth-watering scent of food. Lots and lots of delicious food. You look ahead to see the dining hall table, long and stretching endlessly with heaps of dishes, and catching a glimpse of a few- no, almost everything you've been craving.
Your wide-eyed expression makes Sukuna smirk just a slight bit.
"Bein' all pouty and grumbly for nothing, huh?"
He said, his gaze on you as you looked at him with huge eyes full of shock, hunger, and love that transcends your love for eating till you drop.
"You... why..?"
"Because my pregnant, pouty nuisance of a wife is always hungry and demanding. So I, the great King of Curses-"
"You made all this?"
He looks at you, and his smirk only widens. You grab his shoulders, and you mirror his expression with a wide smile.
"You cooked all of this for me?"
You asked, and if you weren't in his arms right now, you'd probably be jumping up and down with excitement.
Nothing can compare to the feeling of overwhelming fondness that takes over his heart at the moment. He walks over to the seat laid out for him and you, sitting down and placing you on his lap as he kisses your temple, before giving one of your cheeks a little pinch.
"Go ahead, wife. Eat to your heart's content."
He said, and you inspected the dining table with sparkly eyes. In no time, your cheeks were stuffed full with food, and Sukuna was all soft-eyed with the faintest smile on his lips, watching you eat and letting you feed him momentarily. But he was feeding you most of the time.
"Does the wife forgive me now?"
His arms pulled you closer into his chest, thumb brushing away a crumb from your mouth as he put his forehead against your temple.
You smile, cheeks still puffed up like a chipmunk storing chestnuts inside its mouth, "Call me your valentine first."
You demanded with a little grin, gulping down your food. Sukuna rolls his eyes, shaking his head.
"Greedy woman..."
"C'mon..."
He sighs. Again.
"... My wife. My nuisance of a valentine."
He mutters with irritation under his breath, but the underlying hint of fondness and the kiss he places on your cheek after contrasts with his tone enough.
a/n: cause i missed valentines day and it was my birthday two days ago and I wanted sukuna fluff :3
i think it’d be really interesting to explore a first meeting/first impression between satoru x reader in a slightly different kind of light than what i am/most are used to. one where satoru knows very well that he can come off abrasive and maybe even annoying at first impression; meaning he also knows all too well that most of the people in his life don’t care much for him beyond the surface level. he’s there because he’s good at what he does and they like that about him but they don’t like much else about him outside of what he can do, so he finds he has a hard time connecting with anyone at all because of it
he’s popular, yes, but not in the traditional sense— to be popular is to be well-known and well-loved. he’s convinced only the first one really applies to him
thus begging the question of exactly how much you could catch him off-guard when you meet him for the first time and show an actual interest in him for who he is and not what he provides as a jujutsu sorcerer. he expects things to go in one ear and out the other when he talks to you— he was so unprepared for you to hang on to every word he said, to ask him questions and engage more in the conversation beyond a couple of “mhm”s or a “wow, that’s great, gojo”
his eyebrows shoot up in surprise when you follow up with him on absolutely anything. he’ll make an offhand comment expecting no one to pay it any mind as per usual, but then he hears your soft-spoken voice asking him to elaborate a little more and he’s perking up instantly. he’s a little surprised the first time it happens, entirely unprepared with an actual response because he didn’t think that far ahead— he didn’t think anyone cared to even know. he has to clear his throat to get the words out of his mouth because he almost choked on them
over time, it started to change a little bit. now when he speaks up he found he has to resist the urge to flick his gaze over to you, no matter where you are in the room. it’s not like he’s doing it specifically to hear from you, that’d be a little silly to expect it every time, but like— if you did happen to respond again, he wouldn’t exactly be complaining, yeah?
for some reason, though, his heart now starts to race in anticipation; waiting for you to say something, to acknowledge the words he would normally share absentmindedly in the break room— except now he’s oh so carefully choosing what to say that could maybe, potentially, hopefully kickstart another conversation with you. and even then his heart is still racing when you do acknowledge his statement; he has to remind himself to not speak too fast or smile too weird, to just act normal about it. smile normally, breathe normally, don’t stare at them, don’t show how elated he feels to be talking with someone who actually listens to what he has to say
slowly but surely the ice breaks between you two— or well, it doesn’t break but it’s more… melting slowly? it’s providing a very smooth transition between being acquaintances and being friends. he really likes it that way because it feels more natural, more like something that you wanted to happen, something that you still want; not just an overnight decision that will burn out as fast as it came to you. satoru learns that you actually want to be his friend, you want to get to know him
and— he doesn’t fucking get it.
because, sure— maybe at first he could’ve told himself that it was just curtesy, done out of the kindness of your own heart. back then it was easier to calm his frantic nerves by reminding himself that you’re just being nice to him and listening to him because he’s a stranger; you’re new to teaching at jujutsu tech, after all, and you must have heard a lot of impressive stuff about this satoru gojo guy, so you’re just entertaining him for the time being. he wouldn’t have blamed you at all if you slowly lost interest in getting to know him beyond that point, as most people usually did
so the fact that it hasn’t happened yet is as nerve-racking as it is exciting. he can’t tell if it makes him incredibly giddy or anxious as fuck, like he’s just waiting for the inevitable. a ticking bomb. he feels like the more time that passes the more likely you are to stop caring about him the next time he sees you in the break room
but instead, you’re the one seeking him out now. you’re the one initiating conversations with him and greeting him when you pass him in the halls or the courtyard. you’re the one excitedly sharing something with him that reminded you of him and he’s left completely gobsmacked about it all
it really doesn’t get any better for him from this point forward; because now he feels like his heart is gonna give out every time you approach him, tapping his shoulder to get his attention, smiling at him the way you do— the way you always have
one day, he skipped his lunch break to get some mission paperwork done— something he notoriously puts off —and he didn’t say anything about it because he didn’t think it mattered to anyone. when he stepped out of his office later that afternoon, whistling to himself as he locks the door behind him, he’s surprised when he finds you lingering around the area. you seemed busy, but also like you were waiting for something— someone, perhaps? when you hear him from the other side of the hallway, he sees the way your eyes light up when you meet his gaze, and he’s never been so thankful for the blindfold he wears because he’s certain his eyes just pathetically fluttered in shock
he feels frozen in place watching you trot over to him, feels his heart stuck in his throat, something twisting deep in his chest and pulling tighter with every word that left your lips as you greeted him for the first time that day. he hears you ask where he was during lunch, he’s sure he heard you say something along the lines of missing him; and everything else is just static in his brain after that. he’s pretty good about keeping up the conversation as much as he consciously can, telling you that he was just behind on some work, because right now his mind can only replay the same phrases over and over again
they missed me. my presence was missed. i was missed.
by the time you both part ways he’s left standing in the same spot for an undetermined amount of time. his mind and heart alike are competing in a race to see which can operate faster than usual; it takes the sound of a door closing somewhere down the hallway to really snap him out of his trance
as for that thing that he felt in his chest, he’s convinced its only dug deeper every day since. because every time he sees you he feels it deeper, feels it stronger than before. he doesn’t know what it is but it makes his hands all clammy and he’s on the verge of stuttering through his words more often than he ever has in a long time— about a decade or so, to be exact
the final straw that broke the camel’s back was during his birthday. he was loaded with some more mission paperwork you’d dropped off for him, curtesy of principal yaga, and he spent a late night at his office in the school working on them. he got a few small happy birthdays throughout the day, mostly when people happened to bump into him, but for the most part he’s been too distracted— and so was everyone else, he reasons. he normally would have picked a colleague at random to grab dinner with him and talk their ears off but he ended up working late himself, so that didn’t happen
he’s flipping through the mountain of paperwork on his desk when a small card pokes out from between one of the sheets. curiously, he plucks it out and examines it, finding it to be a small, baby blue notecard with a few poorly drawn balloons on one side and a small note on the other. the card read:
“satoru, happy birthday! i’m sorry you got busy and didn’t get to celebrate properly today, so i hope this gift card i got for you will cheer you up! i’m definitely treating you to some birthday lunch later this week as well, if you’re free of course !! (:”
he reads the message over and over again. it’s not signed but he recognizes it as your handwriting clear as day, he can see the cursed energy residuals of yours that you left behind— those unique swirls of charged particles that make up who you are as a sorcerer, the same ones that make him feel like he’s in a field of flowers and cotton candy clouds every time he senses them. he feels his heart stop and start 10x faster than ever
he makes a mental note to text or call you whenever he’s done with his work, but he finds it hard to focus on anything at all after what he just read. he’s not sure what it is— maybe it’s the fact that someone remembered his birthday, maybe it’s the fact that that someone happened to be you. but something is making that feeling flutter all over his chest now, blooming like a bright flower in the spring, making him feel light on his feet at the sheer thought of you sneaking this in between the paperwork as you handed it to him. that explains the shy smile you had on your face when you saw him earlier
for whatever reason, you wanted to surprise him with this, to make him smile on his own birthday. you thought about him, about something personal pertaining to him, and his heart just can’t take it anymore. he feels heat flush his cheeks all the way down to his neck and his breath comes in short for a split second— a hitch in his breathing, followed by a smile so wide and ocean blue eyes so bright that he briefly wonders if anyone who happened to see him right now would think he looked crazy
regardless, whatever it is you’ve been making him feel for the last few months— it’s new, and it’s strong, and it’s a little scary, and he can’t get enough of it
it happens for the first time when you’re both at a party. you’re talking to some guy from your art history class, laughing at something he said, and satoru feels a weird twist in his gut. he’s used to being the center of attention, the one everyone wants to talk to. but you look genuinely engrossed, and the guy is, objectively, not a slob. satoru shuffles over, slinging an arm around your shoulder a little too tightly. "what’s so funny, baby?" he asks, his voice a notch too loud. you just pat his chest and say, "it was an inside joke, gojo," before turning back to your conversation. he spends the rest of the night glued to your side, uncharacteristically quiet.
he’s used to you being sassy with him, it’s your love language. but one day you’re just… quiet. stressed about a big exam, barely acknowledging his attempts to make you laugh. he brings you your favorite boba tea, and you just mumble a "thanks" without looking up from your notes. the rejection feels like a physical blow. he retreats to the other side of the room, scrolling mindlessly through his phone. his brain starts supplying the worst-case scenarios: you’re bored of him, you’re realizing you can do better, you’re planning your exit strategy. he doesn’t know how to ask if he’s the problem.
then there’s the guy from your work. the one you talk about sometimes, the one who’s "really smart and has his life together." satoru hates him instantly. he’s the complete opposite of a loud, chaotic fratboy. when he finally sees you two talking after your shift, he sees how easy the conversation looks. no sarcasm, no teasing. just normal, calm adult interaction. he feels a surge of something ugly. later, he tries to casually ask, "so is that, like, your work husband or something?" trying to sound joking, but it comes out strained. you just roll your eyes. "don’t be weird, he’s just a friend." but the insecurity lingers.
his own friends accidentally feed it. they’re joking around one night, and suguru slaps him on the back, laughing. "dude, i still can’t believe she puts up with you. you’re a handful." it’s meant to be lighthearted, but the word "puts up with" echoes in satoru’s head. is that what it is? is he just a chore you tolerate for the occasional good time? the thought makes him feel sick. he starts watching you more closely, looking for signs of annoyance, for the moment you might decide he’s too much.
the insecurity makes him act out. he becomes clingier, showing up unannounced more often. he starts picking stupid fights over nothing, trying to get a rise out of you because even your anger feels better than this quiet distance he’s invented in his head. one night, he’s being particularly insufferable, and you finally put your book down with a sigh. "satoru, what is your problem lately? you’re being extra."
he freezes. the direct call-out shatters the act. he looks down at his hands, his shoulders slumping. all the bravado drains away, leaving just a stupidly tall, scared boy. "d’you ever get tired of me?" he mumbles, unable to meet your eyes. "like, for real? ‘m i… too much?" the vulnerability in his voice is so raw and unlike him that it catches you completely off guard.
you stare at him for a second, watching the way he won’t look at you, the uncharacteristic slump of his shoulders. it all clicks. the clinginess, the pointless arguments. it wasn't him being an asshole; it was a cry for reassurance. you put your hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at you. his eyes are wide, a little scared, the bright blue dimmed with uncertainty. "you are too much," you say, and his face falls, a flicker of pain you’ve never seen there before. but then you soften your voice, your thumb stroking his cheekbone. "you’re too loud, and you have the fashion sense of a confused traffic cone, and you use up all the hot water."
you lean forward, pressing your forehead against his, closing the space between you. "but you’re my too much. i don’t want the quiet, boring version. i picked the loud, obnoxious, ridiculous one. i want you."
the relief that washes over him is so intense it’s almost embarrassing. a shaky breath escapes him, and he pulls you into a hug so tight it steals your breath for a second. he buries his face in your neck, his arms locked around your waist like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. "sorry," he whispers, his voice muffled and thick. "’m so stupid. i just… got in my head."
"i know you did," you murmur, one hand moving up to card through the soft hair at the nape of his neck. you hold him like that for a long moment, just letting him breathe you in, letting the solid reality of you calm the chaos in his head. "you think if some quiet, smart guy was all it took, i’d still be here putting up with you stealing my fries?"
he lets out a wet, choked laugh against your skin. "you love my fries."
"i love you," you correct softly, and you feel him go completely still in your arms. you don’t say it often, saving it for moments that matter. this feels like one. "even when you’re a insecure idiot. especially then, maybe. it’s the only time you’re quiet."
he finally pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes a little red but clear again. the gojo grin is trying to make a comeback, wobbly but genuine. "say it again."
you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. "you’re an insecure idiot."
"the other part," he whines, nuzzling his nose against yours.
"i love you, you big baby," you say, and the way his whole face lights up is like the sun coming out. the last of the tension melts from his shoulders. he’s back. your ridiculous, whipped, sometimes-insecure fratboy. and you wouldn’t have him any other way.
been thinking about shy cheerleader reader and fratboy football player satoru recently...
ShyCheerleader!Reader who is just a quiet, smart student, spending her afternoons cooped up in the library or reading shoujo manga in her room, with the occasional cheerleading, of course. But no one really notices her because she's always in her own world and is always pushed to the sidelines during cheer team positioning :(
ShyCheerleader!Reader who does not even know how to cheer that well. Her best friend made her join so that she could get out of her comfort zone and show that adorable smile of hers to everyone on campus :3
ShyCheerleader!Reader who cheers for her first game, and is literally just rigid, her movements so stiff it's insane. Her eyes are wide like a scared mouse, and god she just wishes she could run back home and binge watch cat videos on youtube to get over the embarrassment.
FratJock!Satoru can't help but notice during halftime that she's the only cheerleader still practicing, instead of resting with the rest of the cheer squad. Most people don't bat an eye at her, but after he finishes discussing game strategy with his team, he walks up to her and creates small talk.
"You're nervous,” he states, more like a fact than an observation.
“…No?” you respond back, your voice monotone yet betraying your true nervousness. Also, because you’ve never talked to the most popular guy on campus, and don’t want him to think that everyone falls in love with him immediately.
Because obviously, all popular guys think that way.
“You sure?” he asks, masking his sarcasm with a question. You try to ignore him, to go back to your practice, before he fishes something out of his pocket.
“Take this," he throws a tiny packet towards you. You catch it, slightly startled and out of balance. For a second, you think he just gave you a drug, but then you open your palm to see ginger electrolyte powder.
“Helps me before big games,” he states simply, before looking at you. His hands are in his pockets, and he begins jogging back to his team.
“Try it out, it’s gonna help!”
FratJock!Satoru who is just a chill guy and always unserious. He's okay when it's just a college game. But when it's a high-stakes game, there's nothing that can distract him. On the field, he's a completely different guy altogether. His head is in the game, and he already strategises ten different ways to gain victory. There's a reason he's the best player on the team.
FratJock!Satoru is only serious about football. He's a ladies' man, literally for all age groups. Girls on campus flock around him, old grannies ruffle his hair and give him candy like he's some seven-year-old. Even the little girls he meets when he's playing football with the young school boys in his hometown give him innocent little love letters from time to time, which he obviously just gives back to them with a sigh and an apologetic smile, telling them that they can't (and shouldn't) marry a guy an entire decade older than them.
FratJock!Satoru plays football in the morning, parties until sunrise, and somehow still passes all his classes. He's always hooking up with a different girl every week, absolutely no strings attached, and when they do get attached, he just ignores them. Not because he wants them to stop following him around, but because he can't, for the life of him, let himself get attached. And most of the time he doesn't, because he's never met a girl who wants him for anything other than his pretty face and body.
FratJock!Satoru who starts noticing ShyCheerleader!Reader a bit more after the first interaction he had with her. He's never seen a quiet girl like her on the cheer team, because most of them are usually in popular friend groups. So obviously, he's intrigued and approaches her. He asks her if his ginger powder electrolyte worked, and from then on, he's talking to her like she's his friend.
ShyCheerleader!Reader always comes to cheer practice with her big sling bag full of books, her iPad, and cheerleading pom poms. FratJock!Satoru is always looking, because he swears he saw you and your friend play digimon together in the cafeteria one day, and he cannot help the nerd inside of him from getting overexcited.
ShyCheerleader!Reader tries to ignore him, gives him short and curt replies, because popular jocks who hook up with every pretty girl on campus and are also part of the fraternity? She hates them. They are the same kind of people who would have bullied her when she was a little girl, the same kind of guys who would always pick her pretty friends over her.
FratJock!Satoru is just confused. He just wants to nerd out with her because no one else on campus has ever even heard about Digimon :(
FratJock!Satoru notices her reluctance to talk to him about nerdy stuff, her fearing she may be too much of a loser for him, and that he'd probably talk shit about her to his friends. She thinks he's the typical douche bag popular guy she finds everywhere. However, all of that is flown out the window when she finds a cold bottle of Pocari Sweat next to her bag during cheer practice, with a note attached to it saying:
"I somehow found a huge stash of that manga you said you like in the library. Meet me after practice? ;P"
FratJock!Satoru and she meet up. They start talking, getting closer, and most importantly, getting comfortable with each other. He realises that this is the most entertaining conversation he's had in a very long time. He doesn't feel the need to be fake or superficial; he's genuinely interested.
ShyCheerleader!Reader does not know much about Digimon, and suddenly FratJock!Satoru tunes into his inner nerd, going on and on about digimon, giving her knowledge from the depths of the digimon dungeons. And somehow, she finds it adorable, because this was the first time she was seeing another side of him.
ShyCheerleader!Reader eventually realises she's talking to FratJock!Satoru more, almost craving conversations with him. Because maybe not all jocks are mean. Especially one who is always so nice to her, talks to her with interest, stands up for her, appreciates her talents, and eases her nerves before cheerleading. He's sweet, pretty, and… biceps.
FratJock!Satoru and she meet up more often and get to know each other more. He's there during her cheer practice, coincidentally, most of the time, patching up another bruised knee or forehead every single time she falls right onto her butt.
FratJock!Satoru reassures her that she'll get better with time and makes sure she doesn't cry from sheer embarrassment. He's immediately giving a death stare to anyone who laughs at her. He thinks she's cute; he's always thought she's cute. But it's the first time he notices just how pretty she is.
ShyCheerleader!Reader however, is always on edge, trying her best not to mess up, especially when FratJock!Satoru is there. He can't help but catch her eyes wandering towards him every time, maybe when he's stretching or when he's drinking water with the rest of the cheer team also surrounding him. He almost wishes she was also one of the girls in the crowd surrounding him, although he doubts whether he'd be able to keep his eyes off of her without making it too obvious.
ShyCheerleader!Reader doesn't want to stand out or come off as different. She's just always on edge, especially when FratJock!Satoru is around. And she is also starting to notice how his mere presence makes her heart speed up
FratJock!Satoru starts to skip parties, instead preferring to go to ShyCheerleader!Reader place, chill and play some video games for the night, maybe teach her more about digimon while watching her make instant ramen. It's the calmest he's felt around someone, and with how sweet she is to him, he doesn't feel ashamed to be his real self.
FratJock!Satoru realises he likes ShyCheerleader!Reader. Like, a lot. How could he not? She's sweet, refreshing, absolutely adorable, and so goddamn witty it almost drives him insane sometimes. She's shy, but she knows how to stand up for herself, even though it scares her. And he loves it, he loves the way she tries, despite knowing she's not a good cheerleader. He pretty much loves everything about her, and he doesn't mind skipping nights full of alcohol and unnecessary hookups if instead he gets to be with her in her room, patching her bruises up while telling her about his day. She might not be a good cheerleader, but he'll still cheer her on even when she's tripping again and pissing her entire team off. He knows nothing's gonna happen when he's watching. No one disses his girl.
"Got hurt again?" He murmured with a soft sigh, dabbing the cotton bud lightly onto the plush of your bruised cheek.
"...Yeah." You fiddled with the box of cotton buds, your gaze downcast. It's so embarrassing always having him patch you up like this.
He didn't say anything, his expression nothing but concentration and concern, his touch gentle yet clearly unskilled.
"Well... did you at least make any improvements today?"
A beat of silence, while you tried to think of a way you didn't mess up during practice.
"I, uhm... didn't drop the pom poms this time...?"
Your voice was shaky, unsure. But despite your uncertainty, his expression gave way to a satisfied grin.
"Yeah?"
You nod. And he hums back, his voice soft and fond.
"That's my girl."
divider by @cafekitsune
a/n: whew… now lets see if I ever get the motivation to turn this into a full blown series!! (sweatdrops)
tags: sfw, fluff, very brief suggestive teasing towards the end
wc: 2.6k
note: Just a tiny lil drabble of satoru after he comes back home from work to get my blog going ^^
divider by @uzmacchiato
His stride is languid, almost lumbering, yet still somewhat proper, despite the burden and heaviness his body carries, both inside and out. He unlocks the door of the little apartment you and he live in with a small sigh, the apartment that had made him leave his lackluster, overly expensive high-rise for the warmth and comfort of your cute little home after you both got married.
He enters. Soft yellow light falls from the open kitchen, illuminating the small space and flooding the living room. He closes the door, takes his shoes off, and lets out a weary sigh. At last, he lets his guard down. His legs move on their own accord towards your shared bedroom. He can’t bear another second without you. He opens the door slowly, in case you’re asleep. Then he sees you in the floral cotton nightdress he bought for you, the kind you wear every night, and he teases you about the way it makes you look like a “prehistoric grandmother”, but he finds it endlessly adorable. You’re fluffing the pillows and are about to turn the lights off for bedtime, but your head shoots up, and Satoru smiles, warm and affectionate.
“Hey, baby,” he breathes out, making his way towards you as he sighs and wraps his arms around your waist. You smile slowly.
“Hi Toru,” you whisper back, running your fingers through his white ivory locks, scratching his scalp as you place a tender kiss to his temple, and he melts into your embrace at the gesture.
He just holds you for a few minutes, and you don’t say anything. The silence is enough for both of you, for him to recover from the gruelling routine he’s forced to have when he can instead dream of you and him curled up under the warmth of your sheets the entire day. You quietly run your fingers through his hair gently, reverently, the other hand resting on his broad back.
“Didn’t sleep yet?” he asks, voice muffled against your shoulder as his long fingers trace invisible patterns on the small of your back. You shake your head, murmuring a small “no”, before pulling back to meet his gaze. “I baked those cookies you said you love. Figured I’d want to see your face when you eat them, so I waited,” you said, smiling as you ran your fingers through his hair again. “You can eat them first, or if you want to just shower and go to sleep, that’s fine too—“
“No,” he says, way too quick, face buried into your shoulder again as he shakes his head. “I’m never saying no to sugar, no matter how tired I am,” he jokes, grinning against your skin, somehow finding the energy to be cheeky even though he’s running on zero percent charge. You smile, letting out a small air of laughter, and he laughs softly against your skin, kissing your shoulder blade. You take his hand and you both head to the kitchen.
He’s leaning against the kitchen island, sluggishly eating the cookies; warm and sweet and buttery, his eyes closed because he swears heaven exists inside his mouth right now. You have a fond smile on your face as you watch him, an overwhelming and all consuming affection taking over your heart. Something about seeing this ridiculous man you call your husband, cocky and overwhelmingly strong, melt into a puddle of goo just from extremely sugary cookies and some love, was enough to make you want to shower him with all the affection and kisses you could possibly give him.
“How was your day?” you ask, sitting on the edge of the kitchen island beside him. He opens his eyes, his cheeks puffed up, turning to face you as he placed the plate of cookies beside your thigh on the counter, his right hand landing on your hip and tongue darting out to lick the cookie crumb off his left thumb.
“Mhm, same old. Took the kids shopping today,” he babbled through a mouthful of cookies, half focused on eating and half focused on narrating the events of the day. “Kugisaki maxed out my card again,” he said with a hint of amusement, and you let out a small laugh.
“Yeah? And what about the other two?” you ask, and Satoru grins, shaking his head in amusement as he recalls the moment. “Yuji complained about it, and Megumi was just…”
“…Megumi?” You finish his sentence, and he nods. “Yeah, pretty much,” he says with a proud smirk and a little shrug, gulping down another cookie before leaning in and quickly giving your cheek a buttery sweet kiss.
“And then meetings, the higher-ups pissing me off as usual… and oh-“ he suddenly remembers, fishing through his back pocket before pulling out a little keychain, holding it up for you. “Got bored during the meeting, so I just left mid-way and then saw that one gachapon you’ve been obsessed with,” You immediately light up at his words, and he can’t help the way his heart squeezes at that. “They weren’t sold out for once, so I quickly snagged one for you.” He says, smiling as if he won the lottery. He drops the keychain onto your open palm, and you smile widely, eyes glittering with sheer joy.
“You… Satoru, I absolutely love you.” You look back up at him, and he chuckles, low and warm as he pulls you closer.
“Then I think I deserve at least ten kisses all over my face for being such an amazing husband, don’t I?” he said, a lazy smirk on his lips. “You say that as if I don’t already give you more than ten kisses all over your face every single day.” You said, watching as he takes a bite out of the last cookie, closing his eyes with dramatic flair, savouring the flavours in his mouth as long as he possibly can.
“Yeah, but-“ he tries to speak through a mouthful of sugary sweet goodness, but instead he just lets out another moan of absolute culinary satisfaction, his forehead dropping down onto your shoulder as he shakes his head, “Give me a sec, these cookies are making me spiral,” he babbles, voice muffled. “Spiral in a good way or bad way?” you tease, and he smirks, finally swallowing before grabbing hold of your waist, attacking your face with a million kisses as you squeal and hold onto his jacket.
You both erupt into a fit of warm laughter and giggles in the cozy kitchen, and he lets out a contented sigh, joining his forehead to yours and kissing your temple with all the softness he kept reserved for you. He looks into your eyes, a gentle smile still lingering on his lips, his own baby blues dark with affection, tiredness, and love. Even after the shitty work days, after the long hours and the entire world’s weight on his shoulders, a kiss from you was enough to get him back on track, to remind himself that he has something worth fighting for now.
“The cookies were amazing, like always.” He says softly, and you smile, feeling warmth spread throughout your body.
“You liked them?” you whispered, and he nodded.
“Yeah,” he whispered back, before leaning in and kissing you, soft and tender, his hands on your waist and thumb tracing slow circles on your ribs like he’s just been waiting to come back home to you and finally let himself be vulnerable and hopelessly in love.
He steps out of the steaming bathroom, drying his damp hair with a towel, his grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips, and his body clean from the shower he just took. His shoulders slump with a satisfied sigh, from finally getting all that dirty cursed energy and grime off of him, and then his gaze lands on you, already half tuckered out on bed, clutching the big pompompurin plushie he’d won for you back at an arcade years ago in high school, and he feels his heart melt at the sight.
It was so domestic, so intimate and beautiful that he wondered how someone like him, dull and boring under the mask of ‘The Strongest’, even managed to marry a woman like you. It was a wonder to him how you hadn’t left, hadn’t felt that he came off as too strong, or even too monotonous, but he didn’t let his thoughts spiral down that road again. Not when you’re here, his wife, soft and warm and everything he’s ever wanted.
He dried himself off and slipped under the sheets beside you. You instinctively rolled over right on top of his warm, freshly showered body, making him smile with overwhelming fondness as his strong arms wrap around your torso and he pulls you up right on top of him, his large, weathered hand rubbing your back and his lips kissing your temple. He sighed, his other hand on your hip, nose nuzzling into your hair and breathing in the scent of the shampoo he and you share; solely because it smells like you and he always wants to smell like you too.
He holds you against him, fingers weaving through your soft hair like it was instinct. He didn’t have a favourite scent, a favourite drink, heck, even a favourite flower before you came into the picture.
His duties don’t give him the privilege to explore, to find out all those little things about himself. But the second he found out those were the things that bring you joy, which make you you, they began bringing him comfort and ease beyond imagination.
He’s almost like a puppy in the way he mimics you, despite always giving off the impression that he’s a man who knows what he likes and dislikes. In truth, behind closed doors, he’s just a husband who loves his wife beyond imagination. And god, how he wishes he could spend the rest of his days buying you those flowers you love the scent of, creating and welding the very vases you decorate them in, holding you and showering you with kisses while watching sitcoms in the evenings, paired with all those cats you keep telling him you want to adopt.
“Toru?” you whisper softly, and he hums, the sound vibrating deep in his chest, his eyes closed and his hand still rubbing up and down your back. “What is it, baby?” he asks you softly, voice low and tired, yet always gentle.
“… Can you stay home? Just for tomorrow?” You ask in a hushed whisper, head tucked under his chin, his nose brushing your forehead. He stays quiet for a moment, and then you feel his lips press against your forehead, curling into a smile.
“Why? My sweet, beautiful, and precious wife wants to stay in bed all day tomorrow with her spectacular husband, hm?” he teases softly, his voice laden with sleepy affection. You sigh, smiling instead of the usual sarcastic reply or snide remark you would make, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.
“Yeah, I do actually,” you whisper, which makes his smile soften, his embrace around you tightening just a little bit. You open your eyes, looking up at him with unbridled yet very groggy affection, and he tilts his head down, forehead joining yours, his eyes fluttering open.
“Why so sudden? Is something wrong?” he asks, his tone shifting to something genuine and sincere, and you shake your head, “No, nothing’s wrong,” you whisper.
“You sure?”
“Yes, Toru.”
“You’re having nightmares?”
“‘Toru, I rarely ever even dream, nightmares are out of the picture.”
“But you-“
“Satoru,” you say his name, soft and final, fingertips tracing his jaw as you kiss his cheek. “I just want to spend the day at home, with you getting more than eight hours of sleep because you deserve it,” you whisper, and he looks at you, his expression akin to a confused, lost puppy.
The idea was still foreign to him. He couldn’t even imagine somebody wanting him to stay just because of him, somebody wanting him to stay because his company was enjoyable and his mere presence was calming. You know him, know how, despite everything he says and does, he’s always thinking of the worst. Always worrying about you, his students, overthinking, and letting his thoughts spiral down a negative hole. When you don’t respond to his texts in two hours or when he doesn’t hear your voice at times, especially when he expects you to be home, it’s worse. It’s not out of possessiveness, but rather a fear rooted deep inside of him from losing his loved ones constantly, over and over again.
His expression softens, and he takes a moment to speak.
“Deserve?” he whispers, and you nod. He stays quiet for a second, as if he’s contemplating, looking off to the side, thumb tracing circles against your back. “I’m… well, I’m not sure if I deserve any rest after-“
“Satoru..” You stop him, stop him from bringing up the past, from thinking about the things he had no control over.
“Take a day off tomorrow. The students can manage a day without you. I promise you they can. You need time to recharge.” You said, thumb tracing the faint yet visible bags under his eyes, and the gesture makes him soften. Your hand cups his face, and he sighs into your palm. “We can even just sit and binge-watch that sitcom you’ve been wanting to watch forever. I know you feel bad because you never get the time to.” You add softly, and he stays quiet for a moment, before whispering against your skin.
“I’m not sure if the higher ups are gonna be okay with me not coming..” he whispers, “But… I’ll try convincing them.” he adds, looking at you, joining his forehead to yours.
“If they say no?” you ask, and he sighed against your hand, thinking again. His hand then takes hold of yours, thumb brushing over your ring finger, running over the smooth rock resting on the base, before kissing your palm.
“I suppose I can handle them screaming into my eardrums for a day,” he says, his pensive expression shifting to a smile against your palm, and you smile back. He wraps his arm around your torso again, pulling you closer, kissing your nose tenderly. “Alright then. Tomorrow, eight-“
“No, ten.” You say, your voice absolute. “You’re getting a proper eight hours of sleep tonight. Ten a.m.” You don’t give him any room to argue, and he sighs, smirking lazily. “Okay then, Mrs. Gojo. Ten am sharp tomorrow morning, breakfast in bed, and a minimum of 50 kisses all over my face.” He murmurs, forehead against yours. You smile, cheeky and warm, sighing as you nuzzle into his chest, his large hand on the back of your head and the other still rubbing your back.
“Fine. 50 kisses minimum, and you make breakfast in bed.” You say, and he smiles against your scalp, kissing your hairline. “Deal,” he says, pausing before whispering with a cheeky smile.
“... And maybe morning se-“
“No.” You shut down the cogs spinning in his brain.
He pouts, like those seals with their big teary tapioca pearl eyes, before sighing with a fond smile on his lips, chest filled with warmth. He can sense your lips curl up faintly against his skin, and he feels an inexplicable surge of affection flood his entire being. Because this,
You.
You’re his home, and these moments, which he’s never experienced before, are the only fuel he needs to keep going.
“I love you, way too much.”
He whispered against your hair, soft and sweet, and you hummed, your eyes closed.
“I love you more.”
a/n: Hope you guys enjoyed it! This is the first ever fic i'm publishing so please excuse the inadequate writing
tags: sfw, fluff, very brief suggestive teasing towards the end
wc: 2.6k
note: Just a tiny lil drabble of satoru after he comes back home from work to get my blog going ^^
divider by @uzmacchiato
His stride is languid, almost lumbering, yet still somewhat proper, despite the burden and heaviness his body carries, both inside and out. He unlocks the door of the little apartment you and he live in with a small sigh, the apartment that had made him leave his lackluster, overly expensive high-rise for the warmth and comfort of your cute little home after you both got married.
He enters. Soft yellow light falls from the open kitchen, illuminating the small space and flooding the living room. He closes the door, takes his shoes off, and lets out a weary sigh. At last, he lets his guard down. His legs move on their own accord towards your shared bedroom. He can’t bear another second without you. He opens the door slowly, in case you’re asleep. Then he sees you in the floral cotton nightdress he bought for you, the kind you wear every night, and he teases you about the way it makes you look like a “prehistoric grandmother”, but he finds it endlessly adorable. You’re fluffing the pillows and are about to turn the lights off for bedtime, but your head shoots up, and Satoru smiles, warm and affectionate.
“Hey, baby,” he breathes out, making his way towards you as he sighs and wraps his arms around your waist. You smile slowly.
“Hi Toru,” you whisper back, running your fingers through his white ivory locks, scratching his scalp as you place a tender kiss to his temple, and he melts into your embrace at the gesture.
He just holds you for a few minutes, and you don’t say anything. The silence is enough for both of you, for him to recover from the gruelling routine he’s forced to have when he can instead dream of you and him curled up under the warmth of your sheets the entire day. You quietly run your fingers through his hair gently, reverently, the other hand resting on his broad back.
“Didn’t sleep yet?” he asks, voice muffled against your shoulder as his long fingers trace invisible patterns on the small of your back. You shake your head, murmuring a small “no”, before pulling back to meet his gaze. “I baked those cookies you said you love. Figured I’d want to see your face when you eat them, so I waited,” you said, smiling as you ran your fingers through his hair again. “You can eat them first, or if you want to just shower and go to sleep, that’s fine too—“
“No,” he says, way too quick, face buried into your shoulder again as he shakes his head. “I’m never saying no to sugar, no matter how tired I am,” he jokes, grinning against your skin, somehow finding the energy to be cheeky even though he’s running on zero percent charge. You smile, letting out a small air of laughter, and he laughs softly against your skin, kissing your shoulder blade. You take his hand and you both head to the kitchen.
He’s leaning against the kitchen island, sluggishly eating the cookies; warm and sweet and buttery, his eyes closed because he swears heaven exists inside his mouth right now. You have a fond smile on your face as you watch him, an overwhelming and all consuming affection taking over your heart. Something about seeing this ridiculous man you call your husband, cocky and overwhelmingly strong, melt into a puddle of goo just from extremely sugary cookies and some love, was enough to make you want to shower him with all the affection and kisses you could possibly give him.
“How was your day?” you ask, sitting on the edge of the kitchen island beside him. He opens his eyes, his cheeks puffed up, turning to face you as he placed the plate of cookies beside your thigh on the counter, his right hand landing on your hip and tongue darting out to lick the cookie crumb off his left thumb.
“Mhm, same old. Took the kids shopping today,” he babbled through a mouthful of cookies, half focused on eating and half focused on narrating the events of the day. “Kugisaki maxed out my card again,” he said with a hint of amusement, and you let out a small laugh.
“Yeah? And what about the other two?” you ask, and Satoru grins, shaking his head in amusement as he recalls the moment. “Yuji complained about it, and Megumi was just…”
“…Megumi?” You finish his sentence, and he nods. “Yeah, pretty much,” he says with a proud smirk and a little shrug, gulping down another cookie before leaning in and quickly giving your cheek a buttery sweet kiss.
“And then meetings, the higher-ups pissing me off as usual… and oh-“ he suddenly remembers, fishing through his back pocket before pulling out a little keychain, holding it up for you. “Got bored during the meeting, so I just left mid-way and then saw that one gachapon you’ve been obsessed with,” You immediately light up at his words, and he can’t help the way his heart squeezes at that. “They weren’t sold out for once, so I quickly snagged one for you.” He says, smiling as if he won the lottery. He drops the keychain onto your open palm, and you smile widely, eyes glittering with sheer joy.
“You… Satoru, I absolutely love you.” You look back up at him, and he chuckles, low and warm as he pulls you closer.
“Then I think I deserve at least ten kisses all over my face for being such an amazing husband, don’t I?” he said, a lazy smirk on his lips. “You say that as if I don’t already give you more than ten kisses all over your face every single day.” You said, watching as he takes a bite out of the last cookie, closing his eyes with dramatic flair, savouring the flavours in his mouth as long as he possibly can.
“Yeah, but-“ he tries to speak through a mouthful of sugary sweet goodness, but instead he just lets out another moan of absolute culinary satisfaction, his forehead dropping down onto your shoulder as he shakes his head, “Give me a sec, these cookies are making me spiral,” he babbles, voice muffled. “Spiral in a good way or bad way?” you tease, and he smirks, finally swallowing before grabbing hold of your waist, attacking your face with a million kisses as you squeal and hold onto his jacket.
You both erupt into a fit of warm laughter and giggles in the cozy kitchen, and he lets out a contented sigh, joining his forehead to yours and kissing your temple with all the softness he kept reserved for you. He looks into your eyes, a gentle smile still lingering on his lips, his own baby blues dark with affection, tiredness, and love. Even after the shitty work days, after the long hours and the entire world’s weight on his shoulders, a kiss from you was enough to get him back on track, to remind himself that he has something worth fighting for now.
“The cookies were amazing, like always.” He says softly, and you smile, feeling warmth spread throughout your body.
“You liked them?” you whispered, and he nodded.
“Yeah,” he whispered back, before leaning in and kissing you, soft and tender, his hands on your waist and thumb tracing slow circles on your ribs like he’s just been waiting to come back home to you and finally let himself be vulnerable and hopelessly in love.
He steps out of the steaming bathroom, drying his damp hair with a towel, his grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips, and his body clean from the shower he just took. His shoulders slump with a satisfied sigh, from finally getting all that dirty cursed energy and grime off of him, and then his gaze lands on you, already half tuckered out on bed, clutching the big pompompurin plushie he’d won for you back at an arcade years ago in high school, and he feels his heart melt at the sight.
It was so domestic, so intimate and beautiful that he wondered how someone like him, dull and boring under the mask of ‘The Strongest’, even managed to marry a woman like you. It was a wonder to him how you hadn’t left, hadn’t felt that he came off as too strong, or even too monotonous, but he didn’t let his thoughts spiral down that road again. Not when you’re here, his wife, soft and warm and everything he’s ever wanted.
He dried himself off and slipped under the sheets beside you. You instinctively rolled over right on top of his warm, freshly showered body, making him smile with overwhelming fondness as his strong arms wrap around your torso and he pulls you up right on top of him, his large, weathered hand rubbing your back and his lips kissing your temple. He sighed, his other hand on your hip, nose nuzzling into your hair and breathing in the scent of the shampoo he and you share; solely because it smells like you and he always wants to smell like you too.
He holds you against him, fingers weaving through your soft hair like it was instinct. He didn’t have a favourite scent, a favourite drink, heck, even a favourite flower before you came into the picture.
His duties don’t give him the privilege to explore, to find out all those little things about himself. But the second he found out those were the things that bring you joy, which make you you, they began bringing him comfort and ease beyond imagination.
He’s almost like a puppy in the way he mimics you, despite always giving off the impression that he’s a man who knows what he likes and dislikes. In truth, behind closed doors, he’s just a husband who loves his wife beyond imagination. And god, how he wishes he could spend the rest of his days buying you those flowers you love the scent of, creating and welding the very vases you decorate them in, holding you and showering you with kisses while watching sitcoms in the evenings, paired with all those cats you keep telling him you want to adopt.
“Toru?” you whisper softly, and he hums, the sound vibrating deep in his chest, his eyes closed and his hand still rubbing up and down your back. “What is it, baby?” he asks you softly, voice low and tired, yet always gentle.
“… Can you stay home? Just for tomorrow?” You ask in a hushed whisper, head tucked under his chin, his nose brushing your forehead. He stays quiet for a moment, and then you feel his lips press against your forehead, curling into a smile.
“Why? My sweet, beautiful, and precious wife wants to stay in bed all day tomorrow with her spectacular husband, hm?” he teases softly, his voice laden with sleepy affection. You sigh, smiling instead of the usual sarcastic reply or snide remark you would make, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.
“Yeah, I do actually,” you whisper, which makes his smile soften, his embrace around you tightening just a little bit. You open your eyes, looking up at him with unbridled yet very groggy affection, and he tilts his head down, forehead joining yours, his eyes fluttering open.
“Why so sudden? Is something wrong?” he asks, his tone shifting to something genuine and sincere, and you shake your head, “No, nothing’s wrong,” you whisper.
“You sure?”
“Yes, Toru.”
“You’re having nightmares?”
“‘Toru, I rarely ever even dream, nightmares are out of the picture.”
“But you-“
“Satoru,” you say his name, soft and final, fingertips tracing his jaw as you kiss his cheek. “I just want to spend the day at home, with you getting more than eight hours of sleep because you deserve it,” you whisper, and he looks at you, his expression akin to a confused, lost puppy.
The idea was still foreign to him. He couldn’t even imagine somebody wanting him to stay just because of him, somebody wanting him to stay because his company was enjoyable and his mere presence was calming. You know him, know how, despite everything he says and does, he’s always thinking of the worst. Always worrying about you, his students, overthinking, and letting his thoughts spiral down a negative hole. When you don’t respond to his texts in two hours or when he doesn’t hear your voice at times, especially when he expects you to be home, it’s worse. It’s not out of possessiveness, but rather a fear rooted deep inside of him from losing his loved ones constantly, over and over again.
His expression softens, and he takes a moment to speak.
“Deserve?” he whispers, and you nod. He stays quiet for a second, as if he’s contemplating, looking off to the side, thumb tracing circles against your back. “I’m… well, I’m not sure if I deserve any rest after-“
“Satoru..” You stop him, stop him from bringing up the past, from thinking about the things he had no control over.
“Take a day off tomorrow. The students can manage a day without you. I promise you they can. You need time to recharge.” You said, thumb tracing the faint yet visible bags under his eyes, and the gesture makes him soften. Your hand cups his face, and he sighs into your palm. “We can even just sit and binge-watch that sitcom you’ve been wanting to watch forever. I know you feel bad because you never get the time to.” You add softly, and he stays quiet for a moment, before whispering against your skin.
“I’m not sure if the higher ups are gonna be okay with me not coming..” he whispers, “But… I’ll try convincing them.” he adds, looking at you, joining his forehead to yours.
“If they say no?” you ask, and he sighed against your hand, thinking again. His hand then takes hold of yours, thumb brushing over your ring finger, running over the smooth rock resting on the base, before kissing your palm.
“I suppose I can handle them screaming into my eardrums for a day,” he says, his pensive expression shifting to a smile against your palm, and you smile back. He wraps his arm around your torso again, pulling you closer, kissing your nose tenderly. “Alright then. Tomorrow, eight-“
“No, ten.” You say, your voice absolute. “You’re getting a proper eight hours of sleep tonight. Ten a.m.” You don’t give him any room to argue, and he sighs, smirking lazily. “Okay then, Mrs. Gojo. Ten am sharp tomorrow morning, breakfast in bed, and a minimum of 50 kisses all over my face.” He murmurs, forehead against yours. You smile, cheeky and warm, sighing as you nuzzle into his chest, his large hand on the back of your head and the other still rubbing your back.
“Fine. 50 kisses minimum, and you make breakfast in bed.” You say, and he smiles against your scalp, kissing your hairline. “Deal,” he says, pausing before whispering with a cheeky smile.
“... And maybe morning se-“
“No.” You shut down the cogs spinning in his brain.
He pouts, like those seals with their big teary tapioca pearl eyes, before sighing with a fond smile on his lips, chest filled with warmth. He can sense your lips curl up faintly against his skin, and he feels an inexplicable surge of affection flood his entire being. Because this,
You.
You’re his home, and these moments, which he’s never experienced before, are the only fuel he needs to keep going.
“I love you, way too much.”
He whispered against your hair, soft and sweet, and you hummed, your eyes closed.
“I love you more.”
a/n: Hope you guys enjoyed it! This is the first ever fic i'm posting so please excuse the inadequate writing
