gojo's grieving wife

♡ ⸝⸝ enjin can’t keep a crush ! ❤︎₊ ⊹

“she proceeds to ask me if i have a girlfriend and i’m like what? no, of course not,” enjin chuckled and put out his cigarette. “and then she brings up you, and well....”

“well what?” you asked. you and enjin have been close friends for a while now and you were practically inseparable. you hung out almost every single day, anything could become a hangout with the two of you. here you were, waiting for news from gris in his car, yapping away. it hadn’t clicked to you that people may have assumed that you guys were an item. you didn’t hate the idea, and you were sure he didn’t either. or at least, you thought he didn’t.

“don’t get me wrong, you’re cute.” you looked away at this, cheeks burning slightly. it took everything in you to play it cool, but your stomach was still in knots. you were too busy silently gushing at his compliment, you almost missed the next part of what he was saying.

“but, i’m not gonna lie…you’re pret-ty clingy. always texting me at the crack of dawn about the most random things. i feel bad for your future boyfriend. poor guy will feel like he’s being suffocated. he’ll ask me and semiu how to politely get rid of you or some shit.” he replied, laughing at his own joke.

you, on the other hand, were not amused. is that really how he thought of you? you thought bothering each other was a mutual, unspoken part of your friendship. the amount of calls you’ve received from him at midnight was concerning. he reach out often as well, but you were the one doing too much? tears prickled in the corners of your eyes as his comment sunk in. this is stupid, you told yourself.

he frowned. your silence was deafening. you watched as the gears shifted in his head before he realizing that he'd upset you.

“wait wait, i’m kidding. you’re not clingy, not at all. if anything, i’m the clingy one here. it’s so bad, i follow you around everywhere and text you in the middle of the night. i beg to go to doctor's appointments with you, the bank even. the only thing exciting about the bank is going with you. and the lollipops. but, it’s pathetic really. i’m kinda like an annoying puppy following you around. feel free to kick me if you want. i’d probably deserve it. i'm messing with you i swear. i'm sorry, i didn't mean to hurt your feelings." he rambled, rubbing his neck awkwardly and averting eye contact with you.

you shook your head quickly. you were stunned. the sting in your eyes was gone, but now, a wave of embarrassment washed over you. “you didn’t. it's fine, you’re fine i—” you sighed. “it’s not a big deal at all, just forget it.”

without a word, enjin placed his hand over yours and squeezed it. your eyes met his, and for a moment, it felt like time had stopped. your breath caught in your throat, heart practically about to leap out of your chest. his golden eyes searched your own before cupping your cheek with his hand. he grazed your cheek with his thumb gingerly before leaning in.

enjin’s lips were soft and warm. he brushed them to yours, slowly easing you into a kiss. your heart skipped a beat as you kissed him back, eyes fluttering shut. your hands were tangled in his messy blonde hair and he groaned softly as you tugged on it a little. freak.

you pulled away and crawled out of your seat, climbing into his lap to straddle him. he looked at you in surprise and raised an eyebrow at you.

“oh?”

you grasped his shirt and smirked.

“i’m gonna show you what clingy really looks like.”

an act of kindness that led you to a present day, a person you wanted to become.

fluff

gojo’s fingers are stained with a faint trace of soot and grease, his expensive black silk shirt torn slightly at the shoulder where a stray bullet had grazed him an hour ago. he doesn’t seem to notice or care. he’s sitting on the edge of the polished mahogany desk in his private office, one long leg dangling off the side, watching you pace the floor.

​he wears his usual dark sunglasses instead of the heavy blindfold, the bright blue of his eyes visible beneath the rims.

​“you’re going to wear a hole in my rug, sweetheart,” he hums, his voice entirely too light for someone who just survived a coordinated ambush by a rival family.

​“ou could have died, satoru!” you snap, stopping right in front of him, your hands trembling as you glare up at his smug face. “you took off your vest. you promised me you wouldn’t do something stupid.”

​gojo’s smirk softens, the playful, dangerous mask completely dropping from his features. he reaches out, his massive hands catching you by the waist and pulling you firmly between his knees. the heat radiating off his body is sudden and overwhelming. he tilts his head down, his dark glasses sliding down his nose so he can look directly into your eyes with an intense, fierce gravity.

​“i took it off because it was slowing me down,” he whispers, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly register that vibrates straight against your chest. his thumb brushes a stray tear from your cheek with an achingly slow, careful pressure. “the only thing that scares me in this city is the thought of someone getting past me to get to you. i’m the strongest man in the underground, my love. but the second you cry? i feel like i’m losing the whole world.”

a/n: everyone i write are losers in love, how i love simps ;(

‘ perm. tags , @sh0dor1

at just 6 months, your baby could already crawl and stand up by using objects above to grip onto — satoru argues that the gojo genetics has him so incredibly advanced for his age.

but that wasn’t enough for your son. now at 9 months old, he kept attempting to walk only for his little legs to give up halfway. but you were determined for today to finally be the day.

satoru was sprawled out like a starfish whilst replacing the batteries for your son’s bubble machine. that which you had shoko to thank for — all of your friends collectively made sure that your baby was beyond spoiled than he already is.

you were also sat further away with all of the toys beside you to motivate your son to walk over.

“come on baby! don’t you want teddy back?” you chirp at your son.

he slowly stands up, already making improvement since he wasn’t holding onto anything for the first time. “ma–ma!” he happily claps his tiny hands as he takes two small baby steps.

“that’s it! come to mama!” you encourage him into your arms whilst he’s still deciding if he should try to walk or not. your son has a cute pout and furrow in his eyebrows painting his dedicated face as his wobbly steps grow more steady.

“oh my gosh! satoru, look!” you shake his shoulder repeatedly to face your son who was slowly but surely padding his way over to you both.

“wooow~ look at our little munchkin go!” he cheers on. you pull out your phone to commemorate the special milestone.

“dadadadada” he babbles on until stumbling over a lego block. you and satoru immediately share a look that says ‘do not react’ before he gets back up waddling and continues his string of babbles right into satoru’s arms.

“awww my smart baby! we’re so proud of you! and i think this may call for some mochi ice cream to celebrate if mama allows it…”

“alrighttt.. just this once. our baby deserves it after all.” you say in between peppering your son’s face in kisses.

little did you know how much of an adorable menace your son would grow into once learning how to walk…

fast forward to now at 12 months old, and it feels like your son was placed on earth for the sole purpose of acting as your personal trainer with the way you’re relentlessly chasing after him non-stop.

it’s early in the morning when satoru’s soft snores have once again woken you up — but he’ll always deny it. his arms are wrapped around your waist to cage you in from starting the day way too early.

“toru, let go…” you whisper whilst caressing his hair to gently wake him up.

“mmm.. five more minutes if you love me...” he croaks, reluctantly letting go eventually — but not before whining immediately when you do get up. god, sometimes he acts more like a baby than your actual infant.

when you groggily check the baby monitor on the bedside table, your heart drops. why is your baby not… in his crib? maybe you’re running on a lack of sleep which is causing you to hallucinate? you rub your eyes and focus on the screen again only to be met with the same sight.

at this point your mind is going to the worst of places. what if the gojo clan were right and you weren’t cautious enough and now your baby was made a target?

“hey– hey, what’s the matter sweets?” satoru’s words snap you out of your overthinking. it turns out you were hyperventilating without even realising which was enough to awaken the now worried sleepyhead.

“toru, he’s not in his crib! where the hell could he be?!”

“shh, it’s okay. i can sense his tiny cursed energy still in the home. let’s just get up and look for him, can you do that for me?” he softly kisses your cheek.

“o-okay, yeah. i can do that.” you get out of bed and head to the living room, satoru trailing from behind. you won’t lie and admit that you’re out of breath when you get there. ugh, curse satoru for insisting on spoiling you with a mansion after moving in together!

you scan the empty living room all over “okay so, he’s not here..” you mumble quietly, trying to compose yourself from freaking out.

“let’s not panic, we still have fifty something other rooms to check!”

you shoot him a glare, “that is not helping me right now. what if he accidentally hurt himself? a-and it’s so bad that he can’t even call out for us?!” your voice cracks as tears threaten to spill out. yeah. you were spiralling.

“stay calm sweets. i’ll check the other living room, kay?” he kisses at your pout. you hum defeatedly in response, pacing mindlessly into the kitchen until you suddenly stop in your tracks.

there you saw…your baby? sat on the floor hugging the jar of homemade cookies whilst munching away. crumbs and chocolate chips smear his face and clothes as a sign that he’s been here for a good minute.

“what on earth…” your son just giggles like he understands your confusion. “mama cookie!” he stretches out his grubby hand to show his half–bitten cookie, almost like a peace offering.

“uh, one second baby.. ahem– SATORUUU! come take a look at what your son is up to!” you have to yell knowing he’s somewhere on the other side of the massive house. your son who is completely unfazed by your shouting goes back to joyfully munching on his cookie.

satoru frantically spawns there within seconds, “you found him?” you nod, gesturing him to look down at the sight you just walked into. “oh wow–” he can’t help but burst out laughing, “that’s my son alright!”

you scoop your baby up into your arms and prop him on your waist. he whimpers when you separate him from his beloved cookie jar. “really? you couldn’t tell when he came out with glowing blue eyes?”

“heyyy! i can’t help that my genes are insanely overpowering! but you never know, perhaps our next one will be your carbon copy~” he playfully winks at you.

you roll your eyes, “how smooth of you. seriously though, how did he even end up here and reaching the jar?”

“hmm..” satoru points at the tiny stool, “he must’ve pulled out this stool to get to the jar. and as for how he got here, you must know by now that he’s an ambitious walker.”

“oh trust me i know. gosh, he’s getting way too smart for us. i think we need to lock away the goods before this continues..”

“good idea, i’ll look into investing in a safe. you go back to bed and i’ll sort out a bath for this cookie monster.” he pokes your son’s chubby cheeks which makes him squeak before you hand him over. “after all, he probably developed his newfound sweet tooth from me.”

“probably? oh please– it was most definitely you! my pregnancy cravings were the only time i was consistently having sugar to make my pickles and ice cream combo.”

“hehe– remember when you would wrap the pickles in fruit roll ups” satoru chuckles at the memory. he would taste all of your unique cravings with you as a means of showing his support in any way possible — even if he found it absolutely repulsive.

“of course, that was heavenly.” you sigh dreamily before turning to your son and holding his pudgy hand in yours “and baby, cookies are only allowed for treating good behaviour. if you have too much then you’re going to be sick. we don’t want that now, do we?”

“nooo…” your son shakes his head.

“alright mister, let’s get that bath ready then make some breakfast in bed for mama. you gave her quite the scare wandering off like that, so give her a kiss before we go.” something about satoru in dad mode always leaves your heart skipping a beat, from the very moment he carried your baby in the hospital.

“otay! bye bye mama” he cups your face with his sticky hands and places a sloppy kiss on both of your cheeks. “dada turn!”

“well, don’t mind if i do~” he catches you off guard as his lips smoothly connect to yours. you naturally melt into the kiss until a few moments later when your son has had enough and starts pounding at his dad’s chest to stop.

“hey– ow! why’re you hitting papa, hm?”

“no more! all done.” your baby shrieks in a somewhat stern tone, and satoru could’ve sworn that he saw his son’s bright blue eyes narrow at him. you only snort at his silly attempt to protect you.

“alright, let’s not be too mean on daddy. or else who’ll buy your sweets and toys?”

“GASP– is that all you think i’m good for?”

“yes.” you immediately deadpan, your baby watches you nod and copies. “yesh.”

“oh god– i never thought i’d see the day where the love of my life and my spawn are both turning against me! i– i can’t take it!” he clutches at his shirt dramatically making you and your baby giggle.

“hey! don’t call our precious son a spawn!” you lightly slap his shoulder, of course your baby follows and shoves him too. “you sound like the higher ups..” you pettily grumble under your breath, loud enough for him to hear.

“eugh– you’re right. sorry mochi, but let’s go take that bath. something seriously stinks now–” satoru grimaces, giving one last kiss to your forehead before you go back to bed for a nap whilst he cleans your baby up.

you may joke with him all the time but one thing for certain is that he’s always been an amazing husband and father. ≧◡≦

a/n. in honor of father's day, i wrote a short drabble for our favorite daddy fictional husband. here's some good 'ol dadjo fluff 🩵 this was a request, but it's also inspired by a scene from the romcom life as we know it.

cw. your daughter's first steps. humor. domestic fluff. dad! satoru. husband! satoru. also, satoru is just too stinkin' cute (isn't he always though?!).

Neither you nor Satoru were prepared for the day your daughter decided to walk.

She’d been going through another sleep regression—clingy, overtired, and endlessly fussy. The last few nights had been brutal for you both; nonstop crying, sleepless nights—hell, you barely remembered the last time you’d eaten something warm or sat down for more than five minutes without a tiny hand tugging at your shirt.

So today, when she finally settles, babbling to herself instead of wailing, Satoru doesn’t hesitate.

“You go clean up,” he says, already hoisting her up into his arms. “I got this.”

And you don’t argue. Because a hot shower and ten minutes to breathe feels like the most luxurious gift in the world.

Downstairs, Satoru sits leisurely, sinking onto the living room floor, one of your daughter’s stuffed toys shoved behind his back like a makeshift pillow. She sits a few feet in front of him, chewing thoughtfully on a rubber block like she’s solving some ancient puzzle.

As she babbles cheerfully, he nods along, blue eyes soft beneath the fall of snowy hair. One hand props up his chin as he listens intently, like he’s getting a full debriefing from a tiny general.

“I know, right?” he murmurs. “They really said no dessert before dinner. Criminal, honestly.”

An insistent string of nonsense syllables spills from her tiny lips, animated and loud, flapping one hand as to make a point.

“Exactly,” he hums, nodding solemnly. “It’s injustice. You and me—we should unionize.”

Then, without warning, she shifts—pushing herself up with both hands, wobbling slightly as she reaches for the coffee table. One tiny palm finds the edge. Then, slowly… she lets go.

Satoru blinks.

Standing. She’s standing. No hands. No support. Just two steady little feet on the rug.

All by herself.

dad!satoru : what’s my name?

Giggling at this new revelation you carry your 3 year old daughter in your arms, to her dad.

Satoru, looking up from the spot he was snoozing on the couch, lights up at the sight of his lovely wife, and their daughter.

Your daughter, the striking image of him, same frost-kissed hair, and facial structure except her eyes: one a sparkling blue and the other exactly like yours.

“Ladies ladies, calm down there’s enough of me to go around for everyone” your husband boasts taking your daughter into his arms.

Rolling your eyes at his self indulgent joke you nudge him, “Ask her what she thinks my name is”

“Love, I think she’s old enough for us not to be surprised at knowing you’re her mother”

“Shhh just do it” you pester, excited to see his reaction.

“Okay sweetie,” Satoru holds your daughters tiny hands, leading her attention to be entirely on him “Who is this?”

“Mommy!” your daughter squeals, causing your husband to coo in adoration.

“No sweets, what’s mommy’s name?” he tries again, trying to see what the fuss is about.

Your daughter looks at you and then back at her father, “Mommy’s name is love!”.

Satoru stares stunned, as you burst into laughter.

Understanding dawns on him, he always calls you that, his love, infront of your daughter.

“You’re to blame” you grin at him.

Satoru matches your expression “With that logic if I started calling you megatron…”

“Seriously?” you shake your head amused at both of them two peas in a pod.

firefly; he passed down the silly gene ❀ུ͏  

# HUSBAND SATORU GOJO HCS ── .✦ ( husband satoru x reader )

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ lowkeyy forgot to post yesterday and almost forgot today but luckily i remembered just in time so sorry if this is rushed but wtv…

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

𐔌 . ⋮husband satoru includes .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

he still calls you “baby” 90% of the time but slips into “mrs. gojo” when he’s being extra dramatic or when someone’s flirting with you in public it’s half possessive half teasing and he knows exactly what it does to you

insists on carrying EVERY single grocery bag even though you only bought milk and bread infinity activates automatically so nothing touches the ground and he walks in like he just won a war

forgets anniversaries but remembers the exact date and time you first called him “toru” unprompted like selective memory to the max and brings it up randomly at 2 a.m. like “hey remember when you said my name all soft like that? yeah i’m still thinking about it”

the fridge is 70% kikufuku and mochi because he buys them in bulk “for emergencies” and then eats them all in one sitting while you watch in horror and then continues to order himself three Starbucks drinks because he “felt like it”

when you’re sick he turns into the most dramatic nurse ever teleports to the pharmacy at 3 a.m. for your favorite medicine, makes you soup (burns it somehow??), then just lays on top of you like a weighted blanket (complains when he gets sick later) and says “my healing is better anyway”

still wears his blindfold at home sometimes just to mess with you “guess who’s sneaking up behind you” while you’re cooking and you elbow him in the ribs every time

insists on doing laundry together but always shrinks your favorite hoodie “oops infinity malfunction” while grinning like he didn’t do it on purpose so you have to wear his instead he can’t do anything right if it doesn’t involve food

wakes up at 5 a.m. for no reason, stares at you sleeping for ten minutes straight, then whispers “you’re so pretty it’s unfair” before going back to sleep like nothing happened

still teleports you to random rooftops at sunset for “dates” no warning, just grabs your hand and suddenly you’re 30 stories up eating convenience store onigiri while he rambles about how boring curses are compared to you

when you argue he uses infinity to block you from walking away arms crossed, smirking “you can’t leave until you admit i’m right” but the second you actually get quiet or teary he drops it instantly and mutters “fine you win just… don’t look like that”

keeps a photo of you as his lockscreen but it’s a blurry candid he took when you were laughing at something dumb he said refuses to change it because “it’s the only one that captures you perfectly” and also has really bad clips of you like in the worst angles possible

pretends he hates couple outfits but secretly buys matching sunglasses and wears them every time you go out together “what? they’re just black ray-bans it’s not like we’re matching” while grinning like an idiot

when you’re stressed about work he sits behind you on the couch, legs on either side, chin on your shoulder and just lets you rant doesn’t interrupt, just rubs slow circles on your stomach and mumbles “you’re gonna crush it” until you relax and forget about because he won’t shut up rambling about the next thing he sees

still says “i love you” out of nowhere like it’s a threat mid-conversation about dinner he’ll just go “i love you by the way” then keeps talking about ramen like he didn’t just drop a bomb

at the end of every day he pulls you into his chest, face buried in your neck, and whispers “thanks for marrying me” so quietly you almost miss it the cockiest man alive but somehow still convinced he’s the lucky because you’re the one person who didn’t turn on him

Being born into the Gojo clan meant Satoru never had to look at a price tag. Ever. If he wanted a limited-edition sports car, it was in his driveway by Tuesday. If he wanted a custom Rolex, it was on his wrist before the week ended. He was impulsive, flashy, and borderline crazy rich.

And then, there was you.

You were born into a perfectly normal, middle-class family. You learned early on the value of a dollar, how to budget, and how to save for a rainy day. When you and Satoru first started dating, he assumed the standard rich-guy protocol would work: shower the girl in diamonds, designer bags, and spontaneous trips to Paris.

He quickly learned that showering you with gifts was not the way to your heart. It was the way to a massive, throbbing headache.

“Satoru, what the fuck is this?” yu had yelled during your third month of dating, staring at a literal deed to a private island he had casually slid across the dinner table.

“It’s an island, baby,” he had grinned, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “I named it after you.”

“Return it!”

“You can’t return an island!”

“Then sell it! I am not accepting a landmass for our three-month anniversary, you absolute freak!”

It made you crazy mad. You hated the idea of him wasting his money on frivolous things you didn’t need. You liked your simple clothes, your practical car, and your cozy apartment. Eventually, Satoru had to adapt. He learned to dial it back, to show his love through acts of service, physical touch, and quality time. He married you, and you moved into a beautiful (but reasonably sized, per your strict instructions) penthouse together.

But old habits die hard. And now that you were his wife, Satoru’s absolute favorite pastime was trying to trick you into spending his money.

It was a Tuesday night. The two of you were laying in bed, the room illuminated only by the soft glow of your respective screens. You were scrolling through TikTok, minding your own business, when suddenly, a massive iPad was shoved directly into your line of sight, completely blocking your phone.

“Baby, look,” Satoru murmured, his chin resting heavily on your shoulder. “It’s so pretty. Do you want this?”

You squinted at the screen. It was a stunning, floor-length silk dress from some designer you couldn’t even pronounce. The price tag at the bottom read $3,680.

“Nooo…” you dragged out, gently pushing the iPad away.

Satoru didn’t budge. He jus swiped to the next tab. “Okay, how about this?”

It was a diamond tennis bracelet.

“Nuh uh,” you said, not even looking at the price. “Where would I even wear that? To the grocery store?”

“You could! You’d be the hottest girl in the produce aisle,” he argued, swiping again. “Okay, what about this bag? It matches your eyes.”

“Satoru, I have a bag.”

“You have a tote bag from a bookstore that has a coffee stain on the bottom.”

“I said no.”

Satoru groaned, letting his head drop fully onto your chest. “Babe…. please just buy anything.”

“Gojo, stoppp. I don’t want to.”

“Pleaseee baby, anything!” he whined, his long arms wrapping around your waist and squeezing you tight. “We can just buy something cheap! Just… spend my money! I’m literally working for you!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, running a hand through his messy white hair. “You work because you’re the strongest sorcerer alive and society would collapse without you, not so I can buy a Chanel bag.”

“Same difference,” he mumbled into your collarbone. “I make an obscene amount of money, sweetheart. It just sits there in the bank, getting lonely. It wants to be spent. It’s crying out for you.”

“Tell your money to shut up and go to sleep.”

“You’re so mean to me,” he pouted, finally pulling the iPad back. “I just want to spoil my wife. Is that a crime? If it is, arrest me. Put me in handcuffs. Actually, wait, do you want to buy some handcuffs? I saw these really nice gold-plated ones—”

“One..”

“Okay, okay, shutting up!” He laughed, tossing the iPad onto the nightstand and pulling you flush against his chest. “But seriously. You never let me buy you anything.”

“That’s a lie. You bought me coffee this morning.”

“A five-dollar iced latte does not count as spoiling you.”

“It does to me.”

He sighed, kissing the top of your head. “I love you.”

“I love you too, you cocky bastard. Now go to sleep.”

_____

Satoru’s next attempt happened a few days later, and it was significantly more sneaky.

You were sitting on the couch, working on your laptop, when Satoru came strolling into the living room, looking frantic. He was patting down his pockets, his sunglassses slightly askew.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, looking up from your screen.

“I lost my wallet,” he groaned, dropping onto the couch next to you. “I can’t find it anywhere. And I need to order some new training equipment for Megumi and the kids right now. Yaga is gonna kill me if I don’t get it done today.”

You frowned, closing your laptop. “Are you sure? Did you check your jacket from yesterday?”

“Checked everywhere. It’s gone.” He let out a dramatic sigh, running a hand down his face. “Hey, do you think I could use your card? Just for today? I’ll transfer the money back to you as soon as I find mine.”

You blinked. Satoru Gojo, asking to use your debit card? This was a first.

“Uh, yeah, of course,” you said, getting up to grab your purse. “How much is it?”

“Like, two hundred bucks. Nothing crazy.”

You pulled out your card and handed it to him. “Here. Just let me know when you’re done.”

He smiled, taking the card and pulling out his phone. He tapped away for a few minutes, his face completely serious. “Alright, done. Thanks, sweetheart.”

He handed the card back to you and kissed your forehead before practically sprinting out of the room. “Gotta go meet Nanami! Love you!”

“Love you too!” you called out, slightly confused by his sudden rush.

You went back to your laptop, not thinking much of it. About an hour later, your phone buzzed with an email notification.

Order Confirmation: Ssense.

You frowned. You hadn’t ordered anything from Ssense. You clicked on the email, your eyes scanning the receipt.

Shipping to: [Your Address]

Items:

- Maison Margiela White & Gray Replica Sneakers

- Acne Studios Blue Mohair Checked Scarf

- Jill Sander Off-white File Small Bag

Total: $3346

Payment Method: Visa ending in 4921 (Your Card)

Your jaw dropped. You stared at the screen, your brain short-circuiting. Three thousand dollars? On your card?! You didn’t even have four thousand dollars in your checking account! Your card should have declined!

Panic set in. You scrambled to open your banking app, your hands shaking. If this went through, you were going to overdraw your account by thousands. You logged in, bracing yourself for the negative red numbers.

Checking Account Balance: $54,320.00

You stared at the number. You blinked. You rubbed your eyes and looked again.

Fifty-four thousand dollars.

You clicked on your recent transactions.

Incoming Transfer: S. Gojo - $50,000.00 (Memo: “Oops, accidentally sent too much for the training gear! Keep d change! 😘”)

Outgoing: Ssense - $3,346

“SATORU!” you screamed, your voice echoing through the empty penthouse.

Your phone buzzed. It was a text from him.

Satoru: Did you get the email? I think I accidentally ordered some stuff to our house instead of the school. My bad! Guess you’ll just have to keep it. 🤷‍♂️

You aggressively typed back.

You: I am wiring this money back to you right now.

Satoru: Can’t! I blocked your account from sending me money. My bank guy is very good.

You: I hate you.

Satoru: You love me. And you’re going to look so cute in those sneakers. See you at dinner! ❤️

You threw your phone onto the couch, groaning loudly. He was infuriating. He was a cocky, manipulative, overly-generous bastard.

And God help you, you were so down bad for him.

When Satoru finally came home that evening, you were waiting for him in the kitchen. You had your arms crossed, tapping your foot against the hardwood floor.

He walked in, taking off his sunglasses and flashing you a brilliant, entirely unrepentant grin. “Hey, beautiful. How was your day?”

“Don’t ‘hey beautiful’ me,” you warned, pointing a finger at him. “Fifty thousand dollars, Satoru? Really?”

He walked over, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush against him. “I told you, it was an accident. My finger slipped on the zeros.”

“Your finger slipped four times?”

“Why? Is there a limit to how many times your fingers can slip?”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped your lips, even as you tried to maintain your glare. “You are ridiculous. I can’t accept that money. Or the clothes.”

Satoru’s smile softened, and he rested his forehead against yours. The cocky demeanor faded just a fraction, replaced by that intense, overwhelming affection he usually reserved just for you.

“Baby, listen to me,” he murmured, his thumbs gently tracing your hip bones. “I know you’re not used to this. I know you like to be independent, and I love that about you. I really do. But you’re my wife.”

“I know I am,” you said softly.

“And as your husband, it is my God-given right to spoil the absolute shit out of you,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I have more money than I could ever spend in ten lifetimes. And the only thing—literally the only thing—that makes spending it fun is spending it on you. Seeing you in nice things. Making your life easier. It makes me happy.”

You looked up into his striking blue eyes, seeing the genuine sincerity there. He wasn’t trying to buy your love. He already had it. He just wanted to take care of you in the only way he knew how to express on a grand scale.

“It just feels wasteful,” you admitted, resting your hands on his chest. “I don’t need a four-thousand-dollar bag to know you love me, Satoru.”

“I know you don’t,” he smiled, kissing the tip of your nose. “That’s exactly why I want to buy it for you. Because you don’t ask for it. Because you’d be perfectly happy with me if we lived in a cardboard box.”

“A very clean cardboard box,” you corrected.

“Exactly.” He chuckled, his chest vibrating against yours. “So, compromise. Let me keep the clothes coming. Keep the money in your account—put it in savings, invest it, whatever makes your practical little heart happy. Just let me do this for you. Please?”

He was giving you the puppy-dog eyes again. It was lethal.

You sighed, dropping your head onto his shoulder. “Fine. But how do I pay you back?”

“Hmm,” he pretended to think and smiled widely, he bent turned his head down kissing your neck. “Can you sit on my face?” You felt him smile against your neck.

Being born into the Gojo clan meant Satoru never had to look at a price tag. Ever. If he wanted a limited-edition sports car, it was in his driveway by Tuesday. If he wanted a custom Rolex, it was on his wrist before the week ended. He was impulsive, flashy, and borderline crazy rich.

And then, there was you.

You were born into a perfectly normal, middle-class family. You learned early on the value of a dollar, how to budget, and how to save for a rainy day. When you and Satoru first started dating, he assumed the standard rich-guy protocol would work: shower the girl in diamonds, designer bags, and spontaneous trips to Paris.

He quickly learned that showering you with gifts was not the way to your heart. It was the way to a massive, throbbing headache.

“Satoru, what the fuck is this?” yu had yelled during your third month of dating, staring at a literal deed to a private island he had casually slid across the dinner table.

“It’s an island, baby,” he had grinned, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “I named it after you.”

“Return it!”

“You can’t return an island!”

“Then sell it! I am not accepting a landmass for our three-month anniversary, you absolute freak!”

It made you crazy mad. You hated the idea of him wasting his money on frivolous things you didn’t need. You liked your simple clothes, your practical car, and your cozy apartment. Eventually, Satoru had to adapt. He learned to dial it back, to show his love through acts of service, physical touch, and quality time. He married you, and you moved into a beautiful (but reasonably sized, per your strict instructions) penthouse together.

But old habits die hard. And now that you were his wife, Satoru’s absolute favorite pastime was trying to trick you into spending his money.

It was a Tuesday night. The two of you were laying in bed, the room illuminated only by the soft glow of your respective screens. You were scrolling through TikTok, minding your own business, when suddenly, a massive iPad was shoved directly into your line of sight, completely blocking your phone.

“Baby, look,” Satoru murmured, his chin resting heavily on your shoulder. “It’s so pretty. Do you want this?”

You squinted at the screen. It was a stunning, floor-length silk dress from some designer you couldn’t even pronounce. The price tag at the bottom read $3,680.

“Nooo…” you dragged out, gently pushing the iPad away.

Satoru didn’t budge. He jus swiped to the next tab. “Okay, how about this?”

It was a diamond tennis bracelet.

“Nuh uh,” you said, not even looking at the price. “Where would I even wear that? To the grocery store?”

“You could! You’d be the hottest girl in the produce aisle,” he argued, swiping again. “Okay, what about this bag? It matches your eyes.”

“Satoru, I have a bag.”

“You have a tote bag from a bookstore that has a coffee stain on the bottom.”

“I said no.”

Satoru groaned, letting his head drop fully onto your chest. “Babe…. please just buy anything.”

“Gojo, stoppp. I don’t want to.”

“Pleaseee baby, anything!” he whined, his long arms wrapping around your waist and squeezing you tight. “We can just buy something cheap! Just… spend my money! I’m literally working for you!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, running a hand through his messy white hair. “You work because you’re the strongest sorcerer alive and society would collapse without you, not so I can buy a Chanel bag.”

“Same difference,” he mumbled into your collarbone. “I make an obscene amount of money, sweetheart. It just sits there in the bank, getting lonely. It wants to be spent. It’s crying out for you.”

“Tell your money to shut up and go to sleep.”

“You’re so mean to me,” he pouted, finally pulling the iPad back. “I just want to spoil my wife. Is that a crime? If it is, arrest me. Put me in handcuffs. Actually, wait, do you want to buy some handcuffs? I saw these really nice gold-plated ones—”

“One..”

“Okay, okay, shutting up!” He laughed, tossing the iPad onto the nightstand and pulling you flush against his chest. “But seriously. You never let me buy you anything.”

“That’s a lie. You bought me coffee this morning.”

“A five-dollar iced latte does not count as spoiling you.”

“It does to me.”

He sighed, kissing the top of your head. “I love you.”

“I love you too, you cocky bastard. Now go to sleep.”

_____

Satoru’s next attempt happened a few days later, and it was significantly more sneaky.

You were sitting on the couch, working on your laptop, when Satoru came strolling into the living room, looking frantic. He was patting down his pockets, his sunglassses slightly askew.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, looking up from your screen.

“I lost my wallet,” he groaned, dropping onto the couch next to you. “I can’t find it anywhere. And I need to order some new training equipment for Megumi and the kids right now. Yaga is gonna kill me if I don’t get it done today.”

You frowned, closing your laptop. “Are you sure? Did you check your jacket from yesterday?”

“Checked everywhere. It’s gone.” He let out a dramatic sigh, running a hand down his face. “Hey, do you think I could use your card? Just for today? I’ll transfer the money back to you as soon as I find mine.”

You blinked. Satoru Gojo, asking to use your debit card? This was a first.

“Uh, yeah, of course,” you said, getting up to grab your purse. “How much is it?”

“Like, two hundred bucks. Nothing crazy.”

You pulled out your card and handed it to him. “Here. Just let me know when you’re done.”

He smiled, taking the card and pulling out his phone. He tapped away for a few minutes, his face completely serious. “Alright, done. Thanks, sweetheart.”

He handed the card back to you and kissed your forehead before practically sprinting out of the room. “Gotta go meet Nanami! Love you!”

“Love you too!” you called out, slightly confused by his sudden rush.

You went back to your laptop, not thinking much of it. About an hour later, your phone buzzed with an email notification.

Order Confirmation: Ssense.

You frowned. You hadn’t ordered anything from Ssense. You clicked on the email, your eyes scanning the receipt.

Shipping to: [Your Address]

Items:

- Maison Margiela White & Gray Replica Sneakers

- Acne Studios Blue Mohair Checked Scarf

- Jill Sander Off-white File Small Bag

Total: $3346

Payment Method: Visa ending in 4921 (Your Card)

Your jaw dropped. You stared at the screen, your brain short-circuiting. Three thousand dollars? On your card?! You didn’t even have four thousand dollars in your checking account! Your card should have declined!

Panic set in. You scrambled to open your banking app, your hands shaking. If this went through, you were going to overdraw your account by thousands. You logged in, bracing yourself for the negative red numbers.

Checking Account Balance: $54,320.00

You stared at the number. You blinked. You rubbed your eyes and looked again.

Fifty-four thousand dollars.

You clicked on your recent transactions.

Incoming Transfer: S. Gojo - $50,000.00 (Memo: “Oops, accidentally sent too much for the training gear! Keep d change! 😘”)

Outgoing: Ssense - $3,346

“SATORU!” you screamed, your voice echoing through the empty penthouse.

Your phone buzzed. It was a text from him.

Satoru: Did you get the email? I think I accidentally ordered some stuff to our house instead of the school. My bad! Guess you’ll just have to keep it. 🤷‍♂️

You aggressively typed back.

You: I am wiring this money back to you right now.

Satoru: Can’t! I blocked your account from sending me money. My bank guy is very good.

You: I hate you.

Satoru: You love me. And you’re going to look so cute in those sneakers. See you at dinner! ❤️

You threw your phone onto the couch, groaning loudly. He was infuriating. He was a cocky, manipulative, overly-generous bastard.

And God help you, you were so down bad for him.

When Satoru finally came home that evening, you were waiting for him in the kitchen. You had your arms crossed, tapping your foot against the hardwood floor.

He walked in, taking off his sunglasses and flashing you a brilliant, entirely unrepentant grin. “Hey, beautiful. How was your day?”

“Don’t ‘hey beautiful’ me,” you warned, pointing a finger at him. “Fifty thousand dollars, Satoru? Really?”

He walked over, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush against him. “I told you, it was an accident. My finger slipped on the zeros.”

“Your finger slipped four times?”

“Why? Is there a limit to how many times your fingers can slip?”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped your lips, even as you tried to maintain your glare. “You are ridiculous. I can’t accept that money. Or the clothes.”

Satoru’s smile softened, and he rested his forehead against yours. The cocky demeanor faded just a fraction, replaced by that intense, overwhelming affection he usually reserved just for you.

“Baby, listen to me,” he murmured, his thumbs gently tracing your hip bones. “I know you’re not used to this. I know you like to be independent, and I love that about you. I really do. But you’re my wife.”

“I know I am,” you said softly.

“And as your husband, it is my God-given right to spoil the absolute shit out of you,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I have more money than I could ever spend in ten lifetimes. And the only thing—literally the only thing—that makes spending it fun is spending it on you. Seeing you in nice things. Making your life easier. It makes me happy.”

You looked up into his striking blue eyes, seeing the genuine sincerity there. He wasn’t trying to buy your love. He already had it. He just wanted to take care of you in the only way he knew how to express on a grand scale.

“It just feels wasteful,” you admitted, resting your hands on his chest. “I don’t need a four-thousand-dollar bag to know you love me, Satoru.”

“I know you don’t,” he smiled, kissing the tip of your nose. “That’s exactly why I want to buy it for you. Because you don’t ask for it. Because you’d be perfectly happy with me if we lived in a cardboard box.”

“A very clean cardboard box,” you corrected.

“Exactly.” He chuckled, his chest vibrating against yours. “So, compromise. Let me keep the clothes coming. Keep the money in your account—put it in savings, invest it, whatever makes your practical little heart happy. Just let me do this for you. Please?”

He was giving you the puppy-dog eyes again. It was lethal.

You sighed, dropping your head onto his shoulder. “Fine. But how do I pay you back?”

“Hmm,” he pretended to think and smiled widely, he bent turned his head down kissing your neck. “Can you sit on my face?” You felt him smile against your neck.