gojo satoru x gn reader
based on this tweet <3 pure fluff
i’m such a loser for him !!! sorry if this is cheesy LOL
“Can I ask you something?”
Perched on the edge of your bed, Satoru’s thumb beats percussively against his thigh, eyes sparkling with an anticipation you can practically feel vibrate off of him as he awaits your response.
The tone of his voice is far too exuberant to not be considered suspicious; you find yourself raising an eyebrow in question, curious and skeptical. Granted that his long history of inquiries have towered over concerning more than they have entertaining, his excitement, to say the least, is a bit unsettling.
But still, he is Satoru, after all — your satoru, so while you know better than to trust that soft, soft smile of his, pulled tight at the corners of his mouth — the same one he wears when he’s only seconds away from getting himself into trouble — you choose to indulge him anyway.
“Of course.”
He perks up even more, like a dog wagging its tail in front of its owner. It’s more adorable than you’d like to admit to yourself. “Do you know how to whistle?”
“Whistle?”
“Yep!” he singsongs, leg bouncing incessantly against the hardwood floor, the action only proving himself to be a restless bundle of energy. “Just learned Geto could do it, so I was curious about you.”
Knowing him, this is much more innocent than you thought it would be. Your shoulders, which have stiffened unbeknownst to you, immediately deflate as you feel every trace of unease withdraw from your body. You’d expected something a bit more worrisome or horrific, since he’s always had a knack for following his sporadic impulses, but this is a pleasant surprise.
“Can you not whistle?”
From beside you, Satoru huffs, movements put to a halt as he whines: “I can! I never said I couldn’t!”
You laugh at his defensiveness, full of mirth. “Why are you asking me this?”
“Can’t a man be curious about the love of his life?”
“They can,” you confirm with a shake of your head, though it comes out sounding more of a question than an answer. “It’s just a little scary when it’s from you.”
Any normal person would have stomped a foot down, would have jut their chin out indignantly before leaving the room, vexed and seething. But Satoru is Satoru, and he’s always had an awful habit of using statements like this as fuel for his bottomless pit of an ego, so he only grins.
“Oh god,” you groan upon seeing his expression.
“Answer my question pleaseee,” he says, voice reedy.
“Satoru,” you huff, eyes rolling in exasperation. “I’m pretty sure everyone can whistle.”
“Prove it,” he challenges.
“Prove it?”
“Or else I won’t believe you.”
“Are you a child?”
He giggles in response. “Maybe. I wanna see.”
So you prove him wrong; you pucker your lips, leaving just enough space for air to pass through. But before you can let out a sound, he leans in, gently pressing his lips against yours to give you a light kiss before pulling away and batting his lashes triumphantly.
You blink, taken aback. Once, twice — slowly, as if those milliseconds of darkness would somehow provide you with clarity once you opened your eyes.
It was so quick, akin to the strike of a match against a lighting strip, so brief yet so explosive. It felt like a million things all at once, his lips on yours, like fireworks. There, then no longer, but still remaining all the same. You wonder how any of that is possible, but this is Satoru you’re talking about — the same man who blithely takes selfies after beating the shit out of anyone who needed to be handled, the same man who sulks like a petulant child when you deny him his kikufuku mochi before meals, the same man who always, always draws out the best from you even when you don’t believe in yourself.
Oh, you think. Oh god. Him and his dumb tactics.
It’s adorable. He’s adorable. You hate him.
He’s biting on his lip, trying to fight back a smile that falls somewhere in between bashful and thrilled. You know better, though. Know that even amidst those two emotions, he’s also nervous. Incredibly so. Those soft strands of hair you’ve carded a hand through several times do nothing to conceal the faint pink dusting the tip of his ear, neither does it hide the spreading flush on his cheeks. “Oh, Satoru,” you croon, melting.
“That was good, right?” He fiddles with his fingers, eyes wide and expectant. “It was cute, wasn’t it?”
“It was,” you assure, reaching over to cup your hands around his face, thumbs brushing over his cheeks. You resist, only slightly, the urge to pinch him until the butterflies in your chest disappear. “You’re so cute. So cute, Satoru. I love you.”
“I’m so cute,” he repeats after you, beaming with pride at your approval. “I’m so smart too. You hear that, baby? Your boyfriend is the smartest person alive. He’s the strongest too. And you love him! Me! I’m the luckiest man alive.”
You laugh in return.
You want to tell him that — for one, he’s actually the dumbest person to ever exist, in your humble opinion. There’s not a day that goes by without him wearing your patience thin or asking you how to do the simplest of tasks. But that isn’t really important, since you love him all the same. Though, for two, and most importantly, you want to tell him that it’s not him who’s lucky. It’s you.
You’re the lucky one. The luckiest, really. You don’t think you could ever find love with someone other than Satoru. He’s the only one who could ever define that conflicting concept and make it make sense. He’s the only one who could build apart your broken heart and turn it into something more beautiful than just fragmented pieces. He’s the only one. He’s it for you.
In the end, you don’t tell him either. It’s not like he’d ever entertain any possibility of you loving him more than he does you anyway, so it’d be a losing game. Instead, you tap a finger on his nape three times, gently, to redirect his attention to you. When his eyes meet yours, crystalline blue irises gazing at you with so much love that it unravels you, you tell him, “you really like your kisses, huh?”
“I’d die without them,” he states dramatically.
You chuckle lightheartedly. “Next time, you can just ask,” you begin, leaning towards him — closer and closer until you two are only a breath apart. “But honestly, you don’t need to. You never have to.”
Then you close the gap and kiss him, slowly, because there’s no need to rush when you have all the time in the world. This too, feels like a million things all at once. It alchemizes you. Turns you into a lovesick mess. Has you grasping at his hair for more — more, more, more. And then you think that, maybe what Satoru said moments prior to this wasn’t so dramatic after all, because with his lips on yours, you’re sure you’d die without his kisses, too.
word count - 4.4k (i don't even understand how i wrote this much)
warnings - mentions of blood, needles, various medical things. not proofread
a/n | this is the most self-indulgent fic i've ever written as a vet tech myself. huge thank you to the absolutely amazing @one-reverie for brainrotting this idea with me to birth this fic - i love you <3
In the last few months, your job at the local rescue had gotten a bit more exciting than usual as you started to get a regular client named Wilbur. Most strays were brought in by animal control but when there was a good samaritan who would bring them by, the technicians were always in charge of talking with the person who brought them in. It always happened that you were the technician assigned to him and each time he had brought in a new stray cat, he was excited to tell you the name he had given them. Every one was specially picked and you made sure they were properly named during their time at the rescue.
“Pickles because I found him next to a jar of pickles on the ground. I’m just glad he didn’t seem to cut his paw on the glass.”
“Whiskers obviously since she’s missing half of hers. Does that hurt her to lose them?” He was so relieved when you said that it didn’t since they had only seemingly been cut.
“My brother named this one Bustopher Jones. Apparently he ‘busted’ into his apartment and then my brother called me.”
And every time like clockwork he would ask how the last stray he brought in was doing.
“Did Boxhead get adopted yet? He should really go to a family with kids since he’s so friendly.” You wanted to joke that he would be adopted faster if you gave him some other name than “Boxhead” of all things but it warmed your heart to see how much he cared about them all. He remembered each one’s name and when you got updates on how they were doing in their new home, you were always sure to update him and show him new photos. Eventually, you asked if he wanted to swap numbers so you could send him more frequent updates, with the real hope of striking up a different conversation, and he was more than happy to immediately give you his phone to put your contact in.
Your coworkers swore they could tell when Wilbur was coming in even if you didn’t know. You started your shift a lot more excited than normal and had just brushed it off as good sleep the night before. Maybe it was just a coincidence that Wilbur showed up those days.
“Who is this?” You called out, having got up to hold the door open when you spotted Wilbur’s car park in the lot. He had that normal goofy smile you always teased him about at the end of the day.
“Today is special. I think these two are siblings. I found them last night and they had to sleep in my apartment,” he paused, scratching the back of his head, “Can humans get fleas?” You laughed in response which he took as a good sign thankfully and you brought him back to one of the few exam rooms.
“You know you could have just texted me last night when you found them. So they wouldn’t have had to stay with you?” You mentioned as he put the carrier he always had on the table, shaking his head.
“No, it’s okay. I enjoyed sleeping in bed with them. They just snuggled right into my chest,” the image of that in your head made your knees weak, “and it gave me time to name them properly.” You cocked your head to the side curiously as he opened the door of the carrier and you saw two little kittens peek their head out nervously.
“Kunekune and Hampshire. Like the pig breeds cause of their little pot bellies,” you smiled at him and didn’t have the heart to tell him that their pot-bellied appearance was likely due to worms they may have caught wherever he picked them up. He smiled back at you before he brought his attention, and subsequently your own, to the kittens that were now out on the table. You began to examine them, looking for any small lacerations or bruising from being outside, and were happy to report to Wilbur that you shockingly hadn’t found any fleas so he was likely clear of any fleas living in his bed.
By the end of his time there, you could tell just how much he was in love with them as he held them both in his hands, one in each, and kissed their heads before handing them over to you to get put in a kennel.
“Are you sure you don’t want to keep them? They are healthy kittens as far as we can tell besides needing to go through their deworming,” you asked and you saw his face fall a bit more.
“I really would but I can’t dedicate the time to them that I want to with gigs and future tours, you know? I just don’t want them to get separated since they seem bonded.” He hadn’t told you much about his work the first few times you saw him but when you had heard a Lovejoy song for the first time on the radio, you were quick to question him about it the next time you saw each other, saying the singer’s voice sounded familiar. You offered him a half-hearted smile, taking the kittens into your own hands and bringing them up toward your face for him to see.
“I’ll make sure these little pigs get a good home, okay?” It’s a tease at their names and he knows it but he still smiles at you despite the previous sadness covering his face.
What he didn’t know was that you couldn’t stop yourself from taking them home that night yourself, filling out the adoption papers, and having your coworker help load you up on some extra kitten food and a few toys until you were able to go out the next day. You wanted to text Wilbur the photo you had taken of them asleep on your chest that night, picturing what they looked like asleep next to him, but decided it would be more fun as a surprise the next time you saw him. And sure enough, a few days later, Wilbur came in with a new stray he had named “Alexander Hameowlton”.
“Well we are going to get Mr. Alexander all setup but before that, I have a surprise for you,” you watched Wilbur’s eyes light up at your excitement, not able to hold back the large smile creeping up your face. You pulled your phone out, photo already ready as you showed him your screen.
“I couldn’t resist taking them home. You just loved them so much,” and you swore you could see blush start to brighten his cheeks and ears but he wasn’t going to admit it, “They are so cute to sleep with. Just passed out right on my chest.” He’s analyzing the photo, seeing Kunekune asleep on your chest by your neck and Hampshire not much further down. He notices your wrinkled grey sheets and the baggy shirt you had worn to bed. He wishes it was his shirt you were wearing instead.
“You really adopted them?” You feigned offense at his disbelief before nodding at him with a soft smile and his face just brightens more, both from excitement and the never-ending blush of seeing you not in your normal scrubs from work.
“Do you want to see them? Maybe have coffee at my place?” Coffee wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for the two of you. He had brought you many cups when he came during a busier day, leaving with everyone’s orders and coming back 20 minutes later happy to see how you perked up once the caffeine entered your system. However, coffee at your place was a whole new beast. There was the unspoken question underneath it of whether or not you two were ready to cross the line of a relationship outside of your work. But he fumbled with his fingers as he nodded.
“Yeah. I would love that actually,” he spoke quieter than normal, gentle with that tinge of hesitancy laying underneath the surface. When you two had figured the details out over text that night, both of your nerves only increase tenfold leading up to a few days later when you opened your door to him standing there a bit awkwardly.
“I told you I could just make coffee here,” you chastised him lightly. He stood there, almost too tall for the doorframe in all honesty, with a tray of coffees in one hand and a bag in the other before you moved to motion for him to come in. His face lights up as he nearly rushes to set the coffee down on your counter when he sees the two kittens on the couch.
“Oh my god, I swear you guys have gotten bigger in just, what, a week?” He coos at them as he approaches them slowly, letting them sniff him. When Kunekune purrs and rubs her face against his hand, you swear you can see him physically stutter so happy that they may recognize him. He looks back at you with disbelief and he’s met with your happy smile looking back at him.
“They missed you,” you beamed and there was something lingering in the back of your throat. A silent ‘I missed you’ just waiting to be voiced, though you wouldn’t let it. You had grown very fond of having Wilbur in your life. He made the longest of days feel short and the busiest of days feel quiet. Although you had sneered at him the one time he had said you guys were having a “slow day” out loud, quickly warning him about the superstition surrounding that word. He then saw it first hand as you guys were flooded with new adoptions and animal control wanting to bring in new animals. “I can help,” he had offered and you just turned him down with a sigh. But he came back 30 minutes later with food and coffee for everyone.
“I missed them too,” and you swear you can hear his silent confession in his tone too. Your attention gets caught on the bag in his hand when he opens it in front of the kittens. You watch him pull out a whole assortment of toys, his face lighting up more with each new one he put in front of the kittens. Hampshire was quick to play with the tinsel ball and once you heard the loud noise it made, you grabbed the coffee from the counter and walked over to where Wilbur was now sitting on the floor.
“I’m going to hear that all night tonight.” He laughs in response, tossing another one out of the bag before you smack his arm.
“I wanted to spoil our children,” he quips back with a smile. Our children. Our. It rings in your head on a loop that nearly makes you dizzy. You two spent the rest of the day sitting there with the kittens playing and you two talking about anything that came to mind. It was a different feeling than when he was at work with you. There was something relaxed and domestic about it and suddenly it clicked. You had feelings for him. A fact your coworkers had been trying to convince you of for weeks now but you had blatantly ignored and would continue to ignore. The fear bubbling up in your chest that he might not feel the same even though you unknowingly couldn’t be more wrong.
If you asked anyone who knew Wilbur, they would say he fell for you the second you two met. They remember hearing over and over about you for days after the first time he visited the rescue. It only got worse the first time he got to see you really work.
One of the strays he had brought in was too feisty for the techs in the back to hold but you had seen the kitten just relax in Wilbur’s hold moments before in the exam room and got an idea. He saw you come back into the room with the cat in one hand and supplies in the other. His eyebrows furrowed together wondering what you were doing until you put the kitten down on the table.
“She doesn’t want to be held by anyone but you apparently,” you grumbled out and he could see the bandage from where you had attempted to get a sample from earlier. He stood next to the table and leaned down a little to cover her in his arms as he softly spoke.
“You’re going to do so good, baby,” and your face immediately heated up at the name as you continued prepping the butterfly needle, syringe, and your sample tubes. It took you only a moment before you started to show Wilbur how to hold her properly.
“You’re going to essentially just hold her head down with your right arm here and then hold her right paw up so she can’t wiggle out so easily,” you’re guiding his arms as you show him and he feels his own cheeks heat up at your touch, “and then with your left arm you’re going to rest your hand on her chest and use the edge of your hand to push down on her leg here.” Once he had the positioning down, you were able to start searching for the vein. He watched as you took the rubbing alcohol and smoothed down a bit of her fur, starting to feel around.
“Can you push down a little harder for me?” and he’s quick to listen before he sees the vein fill up and you smile, “There it is. Keep that pressure okay?” He doesn’t move his hand, just watching you focus as you wrap the tubing attached to the needle around your fingers gently so that the lock was facing up. You kept your attention on the needle but he was completely devoted to you, still frozen holding the cat in place. Your thumb rested close to his hand and he swore he could feel it even when you weren’t touching him. Tugging down on the skin to hold the vein still, he watched you puncture the skin and you smiled when the tubing started to fill with blood.
His pupils may have completely dilated when he saw you take the syringe cap between your teeth and pull it off, keeping it between your lips as you attached the syringe. Your eyes looked up at him through your eyelashes while you were pulling up all the blood you needed and he swore his knees turned to jelly in that moment. It was painfully silent, both of your focus’ occupied. When you have your sample fully collected, he watches you clamp off the tubing and pull the syringe off to dispense it into your two tubes before closing them and inverting them to check for any clots.
“Perfect,” you chimed quietly to yourself before giving Wilbur his next instructions, “Ok, when I pull the needle out, you’re going to lighten your grip on that leg so it doesn’t bleed so much and then I’m going to bandage it.” He just nods in response, following suit when you pull out the needle and keep pressure on the puncture with your thumb. You wrap the bandage tightly around the leg and when you give him a nod, Wilbur lets the cat sit up. He still is in awe of you though, his gaze not leaving you as you double check the tubes. You thank him for the help and take the cat back and it hits him again just how much his crush on you had grown.
After the day spent at your apartment together, the two of you grew more comfortable around the other, not that there was ever any discomfort but it feels different. A kind of comfort where you feel like you could do and talk about anything with him. You both started texting each other more. It had started as pictures of the kittens playing on your bed and turned into staying up until 2am one night talking about anything that came to mind: work, the band, the kittens, your dreams, life. You texted him one day that you had forgotten to pack a lunch, not thinking anything of it until he showed up with a bag of food and a coffee for you.
“My knight in shining armor,” you teased as you thanked him for the food, letting him know he didn’t need to do that for you. You two kept up the budding relationship as you continued to talk every day and he stopped by more than just with strays. Your coworkers wouldn’t let you live it down either; the more he came around, the more you were teased. But you were too excited about seeing him each time to care. He started coming by your apartment more too, under the excuse of seeing the kittens of course since he was too scared to ask for anything more yet.
“Is that from work?” He asks pointing a large scratch on your arm that looked like it had been bleeding earlier and you just shrug him off until he grabs your arm and brings it over to him so he can look at it.
“It’s okay Will. I’ve gotten scratched before,” and you just nonchalantly pull up your sleeve a bit more than it already is and he can see a few scars, “See. Two scratches here and that bite was from this cat named Mrs. Softpaws. Clearly her teeth still worked when her claws didn’t.” You chuckle and it’s clear that Wilbur isn’t finding the humor just yet as he looks at your arm, not moving his gaze. You gently place your hand on his leg and he looks up at you.
“It’s just my arms. Occupational hazard,” you smile at him, “I’ve seen the state of your hands after some gigs. Not much different than that.” And he frowns because to him it is different; yours scar so much more. It doesn’t occur to him what he’s doing until it’s too late to back down as he pulls your arm up to him and he places a featherlight kiss on the new scratch and your eyes go wide. When he puts your arm back down, he returns his attention to the kittens playing in front of him. You’re still nearly frozen even a minute later when he talks again.
“Just try not to get hurt too much, okay?” You nod lightly in response. From that point on, he keeps a med kit in his car that you don’t know about but he’s ready to help if you need it. A few weeks later, he walks into the clinic to see you with a client, who was getting far too close to you for his comfort and your own.
“I’m sorry, I need you to listen to me-” You try and interject but they go back to interrupting you.
“Are you stupid? I need to talk to a doctor. Someone competent.” His tone is harsh and when you spot Wilbur out of the corner of your eyes, you’re quick to shoot him a look asking for some kind of help. Wilbur watches as the client goes to grab your arm and he’s quick to get between you two, standing in front of you now.
“You need to step back.” Wilbur warns, his voice low as he stops the client from getting any closer. It’s intimidating with his height towering over them but they don’t back down yet.
“Who the hell are you? I’m just talking with them,” they try to argue and Wilbur’s arm snakes around his back to offer you his hand. You take it gladly, letting him know that you are safe behind him.
“Doesn’t matter. Either you stop being an ass or you go somewhere else.” You think being on the receiving side of Wilbur’s anger would make you just about cry. His height was enough, let alone his tone punching holes in the client’s inflated ego. They sigh and give up going back to sitting down in the waiting room. Wilbur still hasn’t let go of your hand, just turning around to look at you, asking if you were okay with only his eyes but he sees the way you’re breathing funny and takes you with him into an empty exam room.
“Hey, look at me. Breathe,” he closes the door behind him and takes your other hand in his too, “You’re okay. I’ll ask if someone else can handle them for you, okay?” And even though you knew his intentions were good, you hated the thought of not being able to do your job. He brings you toward his chest gently, wrapping his arms around your shoulders.
“I’m not going to let them hurt you,” and he feels your breathing slow a bit as you rest your head against his chest and wrap your arms around his torso lightly. You two stay like that for a bit longer until the tension turns from your anxiety to something else between the two of you.
“The kittens miss their daddy,” you announce trying to break the tension but Wilbur’s face immediately flushes as he laughs.
“Is that so? Sounds like I need to come over.” He offers and you take a shot in the dark next, not sure if he will catch your implication.
“What about dinner this time?” You see his eyes widen a bit at the idea and you’re almost confident he’s caught on, even more so by his next words.
“I’ve been wanting to ask for a while now. You beat me to it,” you both laugh. The two of you had been so oblivious to each other’s feelings for the last few months and now it was like a breath of fresh air.
Dinner is chaos. Simply put. There are splatters of sauce and food on Wilbur’s shirt after Kunekune decided the stovetop was a good play area to explore. Hampshire thought that the bowl of freshly cut chicken would be fun to knock over onto the floor. While you two are distracted trying to get the kittens off the counter, the boiling water completely overflows. You just look at Wilbur holding both kittens in his hands on the other side of the kitchen.
“Wanna order some takeout?” It’s lighthearted and he knows you mean well as he nods, offering to pay and he puts the kittens down in the living room before coming back to help you clean. By the time you guys were able to finish cleaning the kitchen, your food arrived and the two of you started eating together on your couch, the kittens playing on the floor in front of you. It was a comfortable silence; domestic and blissful in nature. Something the two of you wanted to do every night. You sat closer together as you put on whatever movie was playing while you both ate. It was near the end and you watched the lead get on one knee for the other lead as they stood in the aisle of an airplane.
“Wherever you are in the world, that’s where I belong,” the lead confessed and Wilbur smiled as he watched you in awe next to him. You were so focused on the screen you didn’t notice his gaze before you looked over at him.
“If someone did that for me, I think I’d just melt,” you joked but it sparked an idea in Wilbur’s mind. A solution to the pining he’d been doing for months as he jumped off the couch and got on one knee in front of you. Before you could protest and tell him to get up, he spoke softly.
“Wherever you are in the world, that’s where I belong,” he repeated from the movie and you laughed until he kept going, “I’ll give up the band. I’ll give up streaming. I’ll give up the world to be with you. We can take our kittens and run away to wherever you want.” You couldn’t read the expression on his face just yet, not sure if he was still just playing a bit.
“Will-”
“I mean it. I want to take you on a date,” he pauses hesitantly, “I want to be your boyfriend. If you’ll let me. I want to hear about your day and bring you lunch when you forget it and-” You cut him off with a laugh and he looks at you worried before you’re putting your hands up defensively.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I do want to date you but if you’re saying that talking about our days and bringing me lunch would be new for us, I think I might have to get you checked by a doctor.” He knows you’re teasing him as his head falls forehead resting on your knees whining before he turns his head to see the kittens pawing at his arm.
“Do they get to go on our first date?” He murmurs out, still a little flushed from your teasing but you cup his cheek, guiding him to look up at you.
“I think this could count,” you smile at him and you watch his face light up at your words as he pulls himself off the floor to be eye level with you. You watch the way his eyes trail down to your lips with a grin on his face before his hand rests on your upper arm.
“Can I kiss you?” he says slowly, eyes darting back and forth between your eyes and your lips. You nod gently before he leans forwards and all the tension he had been holding in his shoulders the last few weeks melts away with your lips against him. However, the kiss is cut short as Kunekune goes to jump on Wilbur’s shoulders and you both erupt in a fit of laughter. You couldn’t ask for better as he holds the kitten in his arms like a baby and starts to chastise them.
“I was trying to kiss them, Kunekune. You can’t get in the way like that,” he looks back up at you with that same goofy smile he would tease him for at work, “Especially since I want to do it again.”
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