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mypurplewinee · 11 days ago

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The Yapper and the Nodder

There’s one universal truth about Satoru Gojo: he talks. He talks like it’s a sport, like there’s a prize for Most Words Per Minute, like God Himself said, “Let there be light—and also, let Gojo never close his mouth.”

He doesn’t just talk; he yaps. About everything. About nothing. About why the sky is blue, why dogs wag their tails, and whether cereal is truly soup. It’s not just what he says—it’s the sheer audacity of how. Gojo could tell you he’s invented a time machine, and he’d say it with such conviction you’d have to check your calendar to make sure it’s not 3025.

And then there’s you: silent, composed, and deeply suspicious of small talk. The kind of person a teacher once called your mom about because they thought you were mute. (“She’s not mute,” your mom said, exasperated. “She just doesn’t like people.”)

You’d figured out early in life that there’s no point in talking when a simple nod will do. People mistook your quietness for shyness, aloofness, or, occasionally, snobbery. In truth, you just found it exhausting. Why use words when you could save your energy for something more productive, like glaring at the sun or drinking tea in peace?

It’s a miracle by all accounts that you and Gojo ever started dating, let alone got married. Two years in, he’s still yapping from dawn to dusk, and you’re still nodding along like it’s an Olympic sport.

But let’s not sugarcoat things—your relationship wasn’t always smooth. At the beginning, it was… tricky.

Gojo had never been insecure in his entire life. He was loud, proud, and fully convinced he was the most charming man in existence (and to his credit, he kind of was). But your lack of response? It did something to him.

At first, he didn’t notice. He just kept talking, and you kept nodding, and he assumed everything was fine. Until one day, out of nowhere, it hit him: You never said anything back.

It started to bother him. A lot. Enough that he decided to test it.

“Y/N,” he said one day, dramatically sprawled across your couch, “if I told you I was abducted by aliens last night and now I can control gravity with my mind, what would you say?”

You glanced up from your book, blinked once, and nodded.

He sat up, a hand over his heart. “THAT’S IT?!”

You tilted your head, puzzled. “What else do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know, Y/N, maybe words?”

You frowned. “You talk enough for both of us. It balances out.”

Gojo didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. For the first time in his life, he found himself at a loss for words. It gnawed at him, this nagging doubt that maybe you didn’t like him as much as he liked you. Maybe you were bored. Maybe you were just… tolerating him.

So he did the unthinkable: he stopped talking.

The thing was—you noticed right away.

Gojo thought it would take you weeks, maybe even months, to figure it out. He imagined you wandering around the house, blissfully unaware of his self-imposed vow of silence. But no. You caught on almost immediately.

Because, unlike what he thought, you actually listened to every single word that came out of his soft pink mouth. Every dumb joke, every wild story, every unsolicited lecture about how blindfolds were way cooler than sunglasses. Nothing he said went unheard.

He didn’t realize it, but you were always paying attention. If he mentioned craving a specific snack, you’d pick it up the next time you went out, leaving it on the counter with a little heart scribbled on a sticky note. If he made some ridiculous comment about wanting a weird gadget—like a marshmallow launcher for “scientific purposes”—you’d quietly order it online and watch as he squealed like a kid on Christmas morning when it arrived.

You loved him deeply. You just… didn’t show it the way he wanted.

And now, as he sat silently across from you at the kitchen table, chewing dramatically on a piece of toast like it was the saddest breakfast of his life, it finally hit you.

You were loving him wrong.

The silence stretched between you like a thick fog, and you hated it. It wasn’t right. Gojo was supposed to fill the air with his chaotic energy, talking about the most nonsensical things, making you roll your eyes or suppress a laugh.

But now, he was staring at his toast like it had personally offended him, and you… well, you were starting to miss the noise.

You cleared your throat, trying to think of what to say. It had been so long since you’d strung more than two words together in his presence that it felt like trying to start an old, rusty engine. But for him, you’d try.

“You’re quiet,” you finally said.

He blinked, startled. Then he turned to look at you, his blue eyes wide and a little uncertain. “Huh?”

“You’re quiet,” you repeated, softer this time.

He shrugged, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Maybe I talk too much.”

You frowned, feeling a pang of guilt. “You don’t.”

Gojo snorted, leaning back in his chair. “Y/N, I’m pretty sure the neighbors know what I had for breakfast yesterday because I don’t know how to shut up.”

You hesitated before standing up and walking over to him. He watched you with curious eyes as you reached out, gently cupping his face in your hands.

“I like when you talk,” you said quietly, your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your chest. “I like your dumb jokes and your wild stories. I like how you can make anything sound interesting. I listen to everything you say, even when you think I’m not paying attention.”

His eyes softened, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “You do?”

You nodded. “But I think… maybe you need to hear it back sometimes. I’m sorry I didn’t realize that before.”

Gojo stared at you for a moment, completely stunned. Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face.

“Well, well, well,” he said, his voice returning to its usual playful tone. “Look who finally decided to use their words.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was a small smile on your lips. “Don’t push it.”

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Bouns: how the gang found out you two are married.

The Jujutsu High reunion had spilled into a fancy hotel lounge after a day of light sparring and heavy teasing. You, Gojo, Nanami, Shoko, and Geto were gathered around a table, drinks in hand (except for you—you had a soda). The chatter was lively, full of memories and inside jokes from your time as students.

“Honestly, Gojo,” Nanami said, adjusting his tie. “I’m amazed you’ve managed to avoid being fired all these years.”

Gojo leaned back in his chair, smug as ever. “What can I say? They love me. Can’t run the school without their brightest star.”

“You mean the loudest star,” Shoko muttered, sipping her drink.

Geto smirked. “He does have a way of being… unforgettable.”

“Admit it,” Gojo said, pointing a finger at them. “You’d all miss me if I disappeared.”

“I’d miss the silence,” Nanami said flatly, earning a laugh from Shoko and Geto.

As the banter continued, a hotel staff member approached the table, holding a room service tray. “Excuse me, Mrs. Gojo? Your order is ready.”

The air shifted.

There was a beat of silence as everyone turned to look at you.

Shoko raised an eyebrow, Geto’s smirk grew wider, and Nanami’s glass hovered mid-air. Gojo, meanwhile, was grinning like a cat that had just caught a very noisy canary.

“Mrs. Gojo?” Shoko repeated, her tone dripping with curiosity.

“Mrs. Gojo?” Geto echoed, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Nanami sighed, setting his glass down. “Of course.”

You, as calm and composed as ever, simply nodded at the staff member and took the tray. “Thank you.”

But the damage was done.

“Wait a minute,” Shoko said, her grin growing. “Mrs. Gojo? As in… married to him?” She jabbed a thumb in Gojo’s direction.

Gojo draped an arm over the back of your chair, his grin so wide it threatened to split his face. “Surprise~!”

“You’re kidding,” Geto said, though he didn’t look shocked—just deeply amused. “You married Gojo? How did he convince you to do that?”

Shoko shook her head in disbelief. “I need to sit down—oh wait, I already am. What the hell?”

Nanami, the only one who seemed entirely unsurprised, took a slow sip of his drink. “I suppose this explains how you’ve tolerated him for so long.”

You glanced at Gojo, who was practically vibrating with excitement. “I didn’t ‘tolerate’ him,” you said calmly. “He wore me down.”

Geto laughed. “That checks out.”

“Hold on,” Shoko interjected, leaning closer to you. “When? How? And why?”

“Three months ago,” you replied, unfazed by the onslaught of questions. “Abroad. And… he’s not as bad as you think.”

“Not as bad?” Nanami repeated, deadpan. “That’s hardly glowing praise.”

Gojo gasped dramatically. “Excuse me? I’m a fantastic husband! Tell them, Y/N!”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You lost your wedding ring twice in the first week.”

“It was an accident!”

“And you bought a replacement from a vending machine.”

“It had a cool dragon on it!”

Shoko snorted, Geto was nearly crying with laughter, and even Nanami cracked a small smile.

“I can’t believe you kept this a secret,” Shoko said, wiping a tear from her eye. “Do you know how much fun I could’ve had teasing you two?”

Geto leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Honestly, I’m impressed. I thought Gojo couldn’t keep anything to himself.”

“Hey, I kept it quiet for her sake!” Gojo protested. “I wanted to shout it from the rooftops, but Y/N said no.”

“Smart woman,” Nanami muttered.

“Thank you,” you said, nodding at Nanami.

Gojo pouted, slumping in his chair. “You’re all so mean to me. It’s a good thing I have my lovely wife to cheer me up.”

Shoko smirked. “Oh, she’s lovely, all right. And yet, she married you. The universe works in mysterious ways.”

“Maybe she lost a bet,” Geto suggested.

You sipped your soda, unbothered. “I just have better taste than all of you combined.”

The table erupted in laughter, and even Gojo joined in, though he made a big show of being “offended.”

By the end of the night, the teasing hadn’t let up, but neither had the warm congratulations. And though Gojo spent the rest of the evening bragging about how lucky he was, you let it slide. After all, he wasn’t entirely wrong.

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mypurplewinee · 11 days ago

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“you don’t believe that sex is the most intimate thing that two can do together?” you repeat sukuna’s previous words with a raised eyebrow, skepticism lacing every word you spoke.

“i had concubines before i was devoted to you. do you really think i see intercourse as something significant?” he doesn’t even spare you a glance, all four of his eyes focused on carefully peeling the fruits resting in the bowl in front of him (mangoes, to be specific. a special order he put in with uraume for you). your eyes narrow at his words.

“so you don’t see intercourse with me as something significant?” that earns you a roll of his eyes.

“i don’t recall those words leaving my lips, woman.” he glances at you with a bored look, already much too used to your antics and the nonsensical conclusions you often pulled from his words (“it’s called reading in between the lines, ryo.” you had insisted. he chose not to debate you on it).

he sighs when you go silent, seemingly waiting for an explanation from him that would fix the small pout gracing your lips. he would’ve let you sulk if you were anybody else, but you weren’t.

“i realize the significance humans place on it now that i am yours, but i partook in the act purely for pleasure before you. it was simply to fulfill my fleshly desires.” he doesn’t need to look at you to know that the frown on your face still hasn’t faltered. in fact, the displeased look on your face probably only deepened upon the mention of him being intimate with other women.

“human customs are foolish, that will never change.” his hand lifts to your lips, a cube of mango held delicately between his fingers. he continues speaking only after feeding you the fruit.

“but if my stubborn little wife sees it as something of importance, then it shall be so.” he says the last part with a sense of finality, as if it was a part of his life that he accepted a long, long time ago.

you contemplate his words for a moment, your posture easing against the lavish pillows of your shared bed. you stall on swallowing the piece of fruit on your tongue, considering a question in that ever curious mind of yours.

“what’s significant to you, ryo?”

he pauses for a brief moment but doesn’t answer, simply bringing another piece of fruit up to your lips (whether the action was out of care or to keep your mouth occupied was unclear).

his lack of an answer was as good of an answer as any, though.

this was significant to him. the way he cut and fed you soft fruit with hands that had slaughtered armies, handling you as if you were made of fine china. never yelling, never arguing.

the king of curses devoted himself to you because deep in his heart he acknowledged his subservience to you.

that is what’s significant to him.

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