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tojiscrack · 1 year ago

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•°. *࿐ 𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐋𝐄

tw: swearing, mention of nipples, arguing (counts as bantering), just chaos tbh

pairing: satoru gojo x reader

notes: the way i was bawling my eyes out for the new jjk ep that came out today whilst also trying to simultaneously stay happy for my husband’s birthday. had to distract myself, so here’s my gojo!birthday post! enjoyyy <33

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

certain events were taken very seriously in your household. it would be extremely unnatural if you missed something as simple as the first day back to school or the last day of school, even.

to be fair, as much excitement as you held for little events such as those, your partner’s excitement was enough to accustom every other member of your house (there were three of you, excluding satoru gojo).

seriously: he had only recently thrown a child-like tantrum because you’d forgotten the anniversary of your first sparring session three years ago — who even remembers shit like that? what happened to the normal, memorable events like valentines day, mothers day, or fathers day?

or birthdays.

now that was one you took extremely seriously. that was one you’d understand if satoru threw a tantrum over forgetting something as important as the day commemorating the year the world turned upside down by the birth of satoru gojo himself (it would have been nice if you were given a warning — putting up with him was forced labour, you firmly believe that you deserve to be paid).

and getting a gift for satoru was easy as pie. the man was so full of sunshines and daisies that he accepted nearly everything. it came to a point where you’d been under the impression that he was simply pretending for your sake, that you tried giving him one of nanami’s weird old pointed shoes during his 17th. needless to say, he was not pretending to like your gifts, and that was proven very well when the strongest sorcerer in the world held up the pair in one large hand, teary eyed with his lips wobbling.

drama queen, you thought in your head.

this year, you had much planned: the dinner table where you usually forbid a number of more than four candies or sweets were now filled with enough to diagnose him with diabetes and at least twenty cavities.

that was not all.

sometime last month, satoru had bought a pretty, blue dress for tsumiki (no special occasion, it was ‘speaking’ to him, apparently — his words, not yours) but it ended up being a size too small. you, wisely, suggested returning it, but the idiot came up with something… unique.

“just let megumi wear it!” he’d said with a giant grin.

megumi did not take that too well. despite the fact that you were already on his side, scolding satoru for constantly teasing the innocent boy, megumi had run back into your shared bedroom and returned with one of your own pretty blue dresses.

satoru looked down at him, his opaque, round glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose to reveal his scarily-blue eyes.

“oh?” he’d said, brows raised. “i mean i see why you’d want to wear that one, but —"

“i don’t want to wear it, creep,” snapped megumi, dropping the dress at satoru’s feet. the height difference was comical, megumi barely reached higher than the snow-haired man’s knee. “it’s for you.”

your eyes narrowed.

“now wait just a minute —”

“i’ll wear tsumiki’s dress the day you wear that one,” scoffed megumi, who knew very well that satoru would never stoop that low. he did not wait for another response before walking away.

you and satoru watched him leave; you looked at satoru, who shrugged at you, and before either of you could blink, megumi was at satoru’s knees again.

“wha—”

kick!

“ow!”

the dark haired kid ran off without a word, leaving satoru to rub at his knee with his glasses askew on his face.

“the kid can seriously kick, huh?” he grunted, bouncing on the heels of his feet as you had approached him with a scowl.

“that’s what you get for even saying such a stupid thing,” you told him as you pinched his arm to stop him from bouncing around. his face came to level with yours and you took the opportunity to fix his glasses before flicking him on the forehead. “put my dress away.”

satoru grinned at you.

“i’ll skin you alive if i see you in that.”

“i paid for it.”

“and you’ll do that again if you wear it.”

so that brought you to the present day, where you found yourself actually pleading with megumi to… wear the dress.

“no,” he said, glaring at you (a rare sight, because despite your obvious similarities in humour with satoru, megumi still preferred to side with you in every situation). “it’s ugly.”

“you didn’t say it was ugly when tsumiki said she liked it.”

“tsumiki’s —” started megumi, looking at you as if you’d grown three different heads. “tsumiki’s a girl! why is — what’s wrong with you people?”

“it’ll look funny!”

“exactly.”

“he’ll be here in a couple of minutes, megumi. just for a minute… please?” you reasoned, hands clasped in pleading. “i want to make sure his birthday is perfect.”

“at my expense.”

you stared at him. “why does a kid like you even know those words?”

tsumiki had walked in the room by that point, a party hat sitting on top of the braids you had expertly done for her that morning.

“he reads non-fiction books,” she answered your question easily, placing her own wrapped gift on the table with very little room due to the pastries and goodies.

“of course,” you sighed. “because that’s so normal for a seven year old kid. you know, forget the dress. want me to take you to a doctor instead?”

“you’re not normal either,” megumi shot back grumpily.

“i am!” you argued back, unaware of the fact that satoru was now in the process of unlocking the door. “aren’t i, tsumiki?”

the girl, though hesitant, nodded enthusiastically. you’ll take it.

“see, megumi? i’m norm— what are you staring at?”

megumi’s face had paled, his pupils growing smaller and smaller with whatever view behind you he was met with. your eyes darted to tsumiki, who also looked visibly shocked, but you knew her well enough to analyse the fact that she also looked very… amused.

what was so amusing?

“I’M HOOOOME!” sang satoru, his voice smooth as silk and loud as though he’d spoken through a megaphone.

but satoru wasn’t that shocking. satoru was just satoru. satoru was…

you turned around.

satoru was wearing a dress.

your dress.

the one you’d forbidden him from touching.

the one you’d explicitly threatened him with.

the one he knew was off-limits.

the one he had now stretched and ripped due to his broad shoulders, his muscular frame, his tall body.

satoru seemed blissfully unaware of the issue at hand, pouting as his blue eyes darted from you, to megumi, to tsumiki.

“what, no birthday songs? you know i love your singing, y/n —”

“is infinity on?” you asked slowly, voice shaky with frustration.

satoru blinked.

“huh?”

“is. infinity. on.”

“i mean — yeah — but —”

“okay,” you smiled, walking over to the table and presenting all the treats you’d bought for him. you picked up a cinnamon roll with your bare hands, ignoring the way the sugary icing was now dripping down your skin.

“oh! those for me? i knew you’d come through! remember that shoe you gave me back when —”

splatter!

it was a good thing you were known for hitting your targets every time: satoru’s — your — dress was now tainted with the mess only a delicious cinnamon roll could cause. it dropped to the floor after sliding down his front for a good five seconds as you, him, and the kids watched with interest.

he stared at the wasted treat, mouth forming an ‘o’ shape at the disaster. he looked back up again, ready to protest when he found you holding another one of his treats: it was kikufuku — edamame and cream flavour, also known as, satoru gojo’s favourite.

“hey, wait —”

smack!

square on the nose. target hit. mission… accomplished? no, not quite yet. that was not enough compensation for your previously, well-crafted, beloved dress.

the idiot tried catching it, only for it to slip between his unnecessarily long fingers and fall sadly onto the wooden floor.

“no!” he shouted dramatically, voice cracking with despair. “that was —”

“your favourite?” you finished off, head tilted mockingly. “i know. that was my dress.”

satoru shook his head vigorously; it would have made you laugh if not for the fact that the dress he was wearing belonged to you.

“it still is!” he stated desperately.

“it’s not even a dress anymore you stupid man-child!”

“i know it looks a little… weird —”

“just weird?”

“and… a little ripped —"

“a little?”

“but it’s still yo— put my kikufuku down right now!”

the next five minutes had been an unpleasant sight for all: you were trying to get him out of your ruined dress, he was trying to get his favourite treat out of your hand, not to be tragically wasted like the previous one. tsumiki had made one or two attempts to calm all the tension down, but megumi had hissed at her to stop interfering.

tsumiki knew it was because if the arguing had been an issue of the past, megumi and his claim that if satoru wore your dress then he’d wear tsumiki’s small one, would be an issue of the present.

satoru, with his arms wrapped around your body (somehow) to prevent you from grabbing another one of his goodies, looked over his shoulder to send a menacing glare to megumi.

“you’re not off the hook either, mister,” he said loudly, “get the dress on.”

you pushed satoru off of you with an impressive amount of strength seeing as he practically towered over you and bested you in physical strength any day.

“no, forget it megumi. he doesn’t deserve to see you in a dre—”

the rest of your sentence had been muffled by satoru’s large hand slapping over your mouth, making you stumble back in surprise and anger.

“ignore her megumi, put the damn dress on.”

you pulled at his already-dishevelled hair sharply. he bit back a high-pitched scream his inner girl had wanted to release.

“he doesn’t want to anyway, he’s not gonna listen to you!”

satoru tried pushing you with his chest away from the dinner table so it would be easier to hold you back. he’d decided that you wouldn’t give up on this, therefore creating some space between you and his beloved sugary treats would be ideal in this scenario.

“oi, i did what the little brat wanted me to do,” he hissed with fury. his hands closed around your wrist, he looked over his shoulder at megumi again. “and i feel like shit right now —”

“— no swearing in front of the kids —”

“— i feel like poop right now,” satoru obediently corrected himself without looking back at you. “now do your dad a favour and put the dress on —”

megumi gave him a look of disgust and did not hesitate to share his thoughts.

“ew you’re not my dad.”

and sometimes you genuinely believe that satoru has some mild form of adhd, for his attention diverted quickly from his physical battle with you to the random one picked up by megumi.

“what the hell?”

but it still seemed as though one side of his brain was still working, he hadn’t let go of your wrists just yet.

“oh my god,” you sighed, looking over at tsumiki as though she could help you in any way: the young girl shrugged, fiddling with the little bands that went round her face in order to keep her party hat in place.

“pause, this is getting really serious right now and i don’t like it,” said satoru, and then quickly turned his head to face you with a glare. “not that you wasting my food isn’t serious.”

you struggled with his iron-tight grip on your wrists.

“i paid for all of that,” you reminded him charmingly.

“and i paid for this dress.”

“and you also wrecked it,” you snapped, eyeing what once used to be your beautiful blue dress that now looked like something you’d seen peasants wear in a movie.

“i’ll buy you a closet full of dresses if that’s what you want!” satoru argued back.

“i don’t want a closet full of dresses,” you retorted, and then paused, looking up thoughtfully. “but i’ll hold you to that.”

satoru blinked at you, confused; you shook your head and focused.

“i want that dress!” you demanded angrily, the battle continuing despite yourself. “and you didn’t heed my warning, so your kikufuku and everything else i bought you gets it.”

“you’re evil —”

“and you look like a fool!”

satoru did not deny that, so with his eyes still trained on you, narrowing them slowly, he exhaled through his nose.

“megumi, i won’t ask again. wear the dress.”

before you could go for the dinner table again, satoru ducked and lifted you by your waist, using his long legs to make large strides towards the couch. you protested, your hands had instinctively held onto his shoulders, and without them, you could not fight back. you opted to dig your nails into him instead — he hissed but made no complaints as he continued to quickly jog you over to the couch.

“megumi!” you called out loudly: the boy still remained where you had last spoken to him, by the chairs of the table with a party hat he’d been fiddling with beneath his chin. “don’t —”

you were interrupted by your own gasp when your back harshly met the soft cushions of the couch. you did not have to focus that hard to hear megumi’s quiet ‘wasn’t planning on it’.

“one down, another to go!” cheered satoru, way too joyful for your liking.

your gaze hardened, taking a cushion and dashing it at the back of his head with as much force as you could gather. of course, you never missed, but it did little to stop satoru from approaching megumi (other than the offended look he sent you in that ridiculous dress you tried so hard not to laugh at).

megumi remained stagnant, his glare hardening with each step satoru took to get closer to him.

“clown,” muttered megumi, jumping off of the chair he’d been sitting on and running to his room.

“oh, good plan!” satoru called after him with a smile. “you go and get the dress and i’ll stay and wait here!”

tsumiki coughed nervously. “erm — i don’t think he’s going to get th—”

she cut herself off when she saw you get back up and charge towards satoru. he turned around a second too late, you’d pushed him back and grabbed a handful of random pastries and sweets, throwing them at him without another thought.

“you’re gonna have to use hollow purple to stop me,” you said over his shouts of protests.

“jokes — jokes on — oh my god, no! — jokes on you, i — stop! — could just use infinity!”

“what’s the point? the food gets wasted anyway, genius.”

the food war (and physical battle, when satoru had decided that enough was enough and the only way to pacify you was to beat you in a clash of strength) had gone on for at least another ten minutes. you were growing exhausted, but satoru? satoru, that monster, was still fighting you as if your attacks were nothing.

stamina now seemed like water on a dry desert for you.

but you refused to give up.

“i can see your nipple, you pervert, ew!” you shouted from underneath him.

it was an odd mix of your limbs. you were trying to flip him over but the stretch his body when you twisted his torso somehow only caused the fabric across his chest to tear, revealing one of his nipples.

“you see it every night,” satoru shot back with a grin.

you wanted to slap the smug look on his face badly.

“that’s why i tell you to stop sleeping shirtless every night —”

“why are you complaining? any other woman would be glad to —”

“what are you guys doing?” tsumiki’s soft voice interrupted you like the smooth spread of butter on toast.

the two of you looked up; your jaws dropped.

tsumiki had taken the time that you guys spent fighting to change out of her simple, regular dress and put on one of the new ones satoru had bought for her sometime last week. it was a similar shade to the blue he’d wanted megumi to wear (for some odd reason, the weirdo?) but was definitely much more flattering. much, much more prettier.

and it was her size.

“get off of me, you —"

“— no swearing —"

“you woman fetishise-r —”

“what’s that?” asked tsumiki, as you both got to your feet and dusted yourselves off.

“yeah, what’s that, y/n?” satoru cheekily repeated, staring at you as if he needed the answer or he’d die a sad and painful death.

“it’s —” you began sharply, trying not to kill him with your death stare before looking back at tsumiki with a smile, “it’s not important. the real question is: what’s that?”

“…it’s a dress,” said satoru unhelpfully. he was looking at you as if you had discovered new learning difficulties.

“another peep out of you and you’re sleeping on the couch tonight,” you threatened him quietly.

you did not need to look at him to know that he was pouting like a kicked puppy. at least he was mute, but not for long, it seemed.

“you’d do that to me on my birthda—”

“i’ve done a lot to you today, don’t push it,” you said, still eyeing tsumiki’s dress with obvious amazement and interest. you approached her, bending down to her height and tucking back some of the flyaways on her head. “it makes you look like a princess —”

“and it stopped you guys from fighting,” she smiled… like a princess.

satoru glared down at you, well aware that you could not see him.

“yeah i’m still not done with her —”

“i’ll make you sit in the naughty chair, gojo,” you said menacingly.

he wanted to let out a long, exaggerated sigh, but the sound of tsumiki laughing at your… mutual banter (?) had drawn his attention away from your backside to her and her new dress.

“ah,” sighed satoru, rubbing the back of his neck, “still wanted to see megumi in a dress.”

“can it, gojo.”

“i did!” he responded, sounding like a child getting scolded by their mother. he looked down at tsumiki and brushed her party hat aside to ruffle her hair (though not enough to mess her neat braids up). “i mean — you look so pretty with it on, i just wore this stupid dress for nothing now.”

“mhm,” you nodded, rising to your full height to raise a brow at him.

he shrugged, picking up an unwrapped lindor bar from the table. “can i at least get a picture of myself?”

“no,” you rolled your eyes. “your entire thought about putting megumi in a dress was just plain dumb, satoru.”

tsumiki blinked up at you. “but you spent all day trying to get megumi to agree to —”

your eye twitched as you felt satoru’s amused and interested stare directed at your cheek. you refused to look back at him.

you loved tsumiki, you really did. but just like any other kid, she had a tendency of speaking about something when it was very clear that it was simply not required. in other words, she spoke to make matters worse for you — unknowingly, of course. it stung a little more seeing as being proven wrong against the smug bastard that is satoru gojo is enough to make you want to jump into a big, black hole and never return again.

the idiot was just that cocky.

“a dumb idea, huh?” you heard him say.

you closed your eyes, as though they were the source of your hearing.

“mhm…” you hummed, irritated.

“that so?” said satoru, and when you did not respond, he took it as an opportunity to go on, and on, and on.

“aw, you did that for me?”

“just for me?”

“and she spent all day doing that, did she?”

“of course she did, look at all those treats for me!”

“i mean — not out of the ordinary for her to be bugging megumi but for me?”

“you know what?” you interrupted him loudly. you faced him with a frown. “i want a divorce!”

satoru stared down at you, glanced at tsumiki, before blinking down at you again. he raised his snow-white brow at you, acting as though you’d said something that deserved ten years in jail.

“we’re not even married!”

“and whose fucking fault is that?”

“language!”

“happy birthday!” you stated angrily, reaching up and kissing him on his cheek before storming out of the room, unaware of the dazed look he sent after you, unaware of the pink dusting his cheeks, unaware of the dreamy sigh he let out when the door slammed loud enough to shake the rest of the house.

soon, that argument could never be used against him, especially not by you.

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