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#mochis mumbles
1000dactyls · 2 months
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pbbblbbbtlblhtttbbbbtt . here is how black silence ID outis can still win + outish shotgunning with that coworker I hate + dotrc sillies ^o^ I like to think as soulmates, daiyu and hong lu mirror each other in every which way, but hong lu is also an amalgamation of everyone who has loved him and so his green ribbon is from qin zhong (before he passed)
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musubiki · 18 days
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Lime (thinking about his perfect score in AWS evaluations): you can’t seduce me tho
Mochi: … ok then ^pulls the elastic of her thigh high up and lets it snap back^
Later
Coco: why is Lime shoving his head in a bucket of water
THIS IS SO FUCKING ON BRAND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I DIDNT EVEN THINK ABOUT MOCHI PLAYING THE THIGH CARD!!!!!! YOURE SO RIGHT!!!!!!!!!
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akinachiri · 1 year
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im sad again which means its time to impulse buy enstars plushies!!!!
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harpieunion · 10 months
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Just got called a moron for looking at the Walmart pride pallet <3 while in my spiked crocs too. Gay rights <3
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mochiereads · 1 year
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.・-: ✧ :-shelving new recommendations -: ✧ :-・.
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eldritchmochi · 4 months
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my phone had no god damned clue what im saying ever at all
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yanderenightmare · 19 days
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TW: obsession, obsessive thoughts
fem reader
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Thinking about when the playboy finally falls in love…
It’s so silly, soft as it may sound, untrue even given his record of sleeping around, but sometimes all he wants is pure unadulterated love. A hug once in a while would be nice – maybe a chaste kiss on his cheek – or cuddles.
You hadn’t believed a lick of it. You’d only laughed in his face with a shake of your head, telling him that must have been the worst pick-up play you’d ever been the victim of. 
It’s cliché, but he’s been obsessed with you ever since.
He feels like such a loser thinking about it – for real now – rolling his eyes with a hidden smile while looking at the candid picture he’d snapped of you. 
Chewing on this tongue while fantasizing such ridiculous things – virginal nothings such as handholding or resting his head in your lap and feeling you play with his hair. Sleeping together with your clothes on – spooning each other all clingy and soft...
Whispering sweet little nothings against the shell of his ear – teasing him. Playfighting – making you squeal and giggle as he grabs you and pins you beneath him in the bed. Tickling – making you laugh. Or kissing your nose and head and hand. 
Oh, and making breakfast together, eating lunch, and sharing dinner. 
Don't get him started on showering – helping each other wash – backrubs and headscrubs. How good your hands would feel carding through his hair as you rub in soap and rinse it out. Or just face masks. A whole evening in the bubble bath.
Watching some stupid romcom in fluffy bath robes afterward with your dopey tired head falling to rest on his shoulder. Snoring and mumbling small sweet little nothings to each other.
Saying good morning. Saying goodnight. Have a nice day. Good luck. I love you. I love you more. I love you most.
And there’s more.
Baby-names.
You haven't even gotten his dick wet once – he hasn’t even scored a kiss yet, and he’s already thinking about knocking you up and putting a ring on it.
You would look too good with his brat on your knee…
Bouncing them, breastfeeding, playing peek-a-boo games, zerbert, and doing the Simba from The Lion King – all with a great big beaming smile on your face. A smile that even the sun would envy.
Not to mention the kid itself. 
He would love the ever-living life out of a little baby version of you – pouty plump lips and mochi cheeks – spluttering and hiccupping on earth-shattering sobs when scuffing her dainty little knees on the pavement – asking for piggyback rides and candy before dinner.
Or a little miniature of him. Seeing you lull little devil-faced Junior to sleep.
Fuck it, you should get both. A truckload.
He’s shaken from his thoughts when his friend snaps his fingers.
“You’ve been staring at your phone forever. What’re you looking at that’s so important?”
He can’t believe how far down the rabbit hole he’d just spiraled. Thinking about a girl without picturing her naked. He must be losing it.
“… I’m not sure…”
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BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Hawks, Shinso, Denki
JJK – Gojo, Sukuna
HQ – Oikawa, Kuro, Bokuto, Miya twins, Suna
BLLK – Reo, Nagi, Rin
AOT – Eren
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itostea · 9 months
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the strongest (gojo x wife! reader)
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gojo can't help but feel annoyed that he feels concern for the wife he swears he doesn't care for.
warnings: arranged marriage au, gojo refers to you as his wife, enemies to lovers (?), gojo tells you to lift up your top, slight angst, he's really bad at feelings okay, image from loving yamada-kun at lv999 (part of gojo’s wife series)
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The lines of intrigue and fear are often blurred. It explains why we admire fire from afar, careful not to get too close in hopes of not getting burned. It explains why we find peace in parts of the ocean and tense up in deeper parts. It also explains why Gojo Satoru seeks your presence yet pushes you away the moment he finds himself feeling something other than indifference or vexation–it’s never hatred though. The strongest can’t envision himself ever hating his wife and it scares him. 
He’s not sure that can be said about you. Gojo wouldn’t be surprised if you grew to hate him after the treatment you put up with. 
Your marriage is what you call a “marriage of convenience” and Gojo made sure you remembered that. He wasn’t always so distant with you. Back then, you might’ve considered him a friend but time did its bidding and you two drifted apart, your time together merely a memory. Now fast forward a few years and you were wedded to him, taking up his surname and sleeping in the same house as him–in separate rooms of course. 
Your steps on the wooden floors were silent as you intended not to make a single noise at such a late hour. You sighed, feeling the weight of your heavy shoulders drag you down. 
Gojo might be considered cruel to you but the elders were on a different level. They knew this mission would be too much for you yet they sent you on it as punishment for speaking your mind the last time everyone gathered. 
At that time, your husband had an unfamiliar gleam in your eyes as you voiced your thoughts on the matter of Itadori. He’s a nice kid, you thought when you first saw the pink-haired boy. 
Taking away his youth wouldn’t be fair. After all, he didn’t choose to have the Ryomen Sukuna use him as a vessel. Yet, sentiment doesn’t do well with the higher ups and they made sure you knew your place with the mission they sent you on. 
You inhaled sharply, wincing as you felt the bruise on your rib with your palm. There was blood soaking your tights, little cuts littering your legs. You’re so tired you can’t find it in yourself to even eat. Then again, you needed to be in your best condition tomorrow since another mission was sent out of you and specifically you. Those in power always make sure it’s clear that they are in power. Your voice of opinion meant nothing to their beliefs in tradition or what you liked to call, “backward thinking.” That’s one thing you and your husband could agree on. 
“Ow,” you wince for the nth time as you open the fridge, scanning the items. Mochi. Ice-cream. Leftover cake. Perhaps it would’ve been wiser to go grocery shopping a day prior so you could have a proper meal. This was the kind of stuff Gojo could live on but you couldn’t. Closing the fridge, you opt for instant ramen instead. Not the best choice in regards to healthiness but cracking an egg in there meant more protein and it also minimized the spice levels. 
You’re halfway in between preparing the noodles when you feel a presence right beside you and soft breathing besides your ears. “You’re home,” your ‘husband’ mumbles, his eyes half-lidded from just having woken up. 
“God! Satoru!” You gasp, flinching away from and only realizing how close he was. For someone who claimed he wasn’t interested in you, he didn’t know what personal space was. “How did you know I was home?”
“Your cursed energy leaked in,” he shrugs his shoulders, peering down at you without the constraints of his blindfold or shades. You gulp as his eyes flit up and down your appearance, causing your insides to tense up in a sudden wave of self-consciousness. Being scrutinized by the six-eyes himself wasn’t much fun and you’re suddenly aware of the fact that your hair is disheveled and your face is sweaty from just having come home from a grueling mission. 
You don’t even notice the glint of rage that crosses his hues before he masks it. “Who did this to you?”
“Huh?” You blink, coming to your senses that your body was bloodied up and battered from having fought a curse. “Oh it was just a mission. It’s normal to be hurt on missions.” 
Gojo’s been living with you for nearly half a year now and he knows you’re more than competent when it comes to shaman duties (not that he’d ever tell you). He knows you return home by 7 p.m.., and never at hours well past midnight. He knows that you usually only get injuries on your back because you get careless at times. But now, he sees cuts everywhere and he’s not sure if you’re running on adrenaline or if you’re too tired to notice. 
His eyes glance at the way you press a palm on your rib, subconsciously squeezing the area as if hiding it from him. “Let me see.”
Your surprise is immediate and he would’ve felt a strange fluttering in his stomach if not for this concern he was experiencing for you. You smile. “See what?”
“Your injury. Let me see it,” he says again, pressing on the hand you hold close to your ribs, narrowing his eyes as you hiss in pain. “Don’t be stubborn (Name).” 
His voice is different from the cheery one he often uses and you’re left leaning further into the kitchen counter, acutely aware of the fact that his taller frame wasn’t allowing you to escape. His eyes widen the slightest once he gets a glimpse of your flustered expression as you peer up at him and he only realizes what he was asking from you. Part of him tells him to ignore this and pretend his concern for you was brief. Yet, part of him screams at him that he was your husband, so he should feel the right to be worried–even if he was months late. 
He sighs, tilting his head. “I’m just going to look. I promise I won’t do anything else,” his voice is oddly tender as he speaks to you, a contrast to the usual nonchalance you’re used to. 
You gulp and let out a shaky sigh, giving in when your fingers reach to pull your top up for him to see the bare skin that you can’t even say is spotless or void of marks. Multiple wounds litter your skin–some faded, some new. You’re scared his gaze would show some signs of judgment or disgust but you’re left bemused when you see how his eyebrows furrow and his lips purse. For a second, you allow yourself to be deluded by the fact that he might be worried but you quickly abandon that thought, averting your eyes from him.
You can see how he pieces everything together. From the way you rebelled against the elders and how they saw it as a means to punish you. He does it so quickly that you can only blink when his blank expression morphs into something different. You almost feel relieved from the fact that his expression of pure anger wasn’t directed at you and rather those who sent you on the mission.
It’s almost natural how he slides the top further up, mapping the extent of the bruise with his eyes. His hands are warm and calloused. They’re also gentle, tracing the bruise carefully to not hurt you. “I’ll kill those old bastards,” he chuckles with a sneer. “They have some nerve letting my wife take this mission without me.”
You frown as you see his anger first-hand. “Satoru–”
“Why didn’t you go to Shoko?” He interrupts, gently holding on your waist to prop you on the counter while he stands in between your legs. He watches you intently, in search of answers.
You feel somewhat embarrassed as his hand still lifts your top up to see the bare skin but don’t comment on it. “I didn’t want to bother her so late at night…”
For the first time since today, you see him flash a genuine smile, as if exasperated by your reasoning. “But you’re fine with bothering me?” 
“That’s different!” You say, a pout slowly forming on your lips and he can’t help but feel drawn to you even if he doesn’t want to. 
He laughs as you pull your top down with a huff, finding it cute that you were so bashful. “Because I’m your husband?” 
You go silent and for a second, Gojo thinks he’s messed up for mentioning that. Despite being your husband, he’s not the greatest at doing his job. He’s not callous or spiteful towards you, instead taking on more of a cold and aloof attitude towards you. Even so, he thinks that hurts just as much as a few insults. 
He’s about to pull back but your voice draws him back to you. “Yeah. It’s because you’re my husband.”
Gojo can’t stop himself from glancing at your lips at that single statement. He was today years old when he realized he was a man of simple tastes. All you had to do was tell him that he was your husband and he’d want to kiss you until your lips turned red. He considers himself lucky that you didn’t see that slip-up of his–though he wouldn’t have minded if you did.
He breathes out a sigh, propping his chin atop your head while his fingers draw circles around your hips. “I won’t let them hurt you.”
It’s a vow he swears to keep. 
“I know,” you whisper quietly enough for him to hear. “You’re the strongest after all.”
He thinks it’s funny that even as the strongest, he feels weak when he feels your fingers play with his sleeves. No words are said after that and a comfortable silence drifts between you two. It’s like the barrier between the two of you is cracking once you feel his lips press gently against your forehead and you think it's his way of sealing the promise. 
Gojo Satoru thinks–or rather he knows that he wouldn’t mind living the rest of his life with you. And he knows that he should fix his behavior around you and stop running away. That way, instead of a kiss to the forehead, he can finally give you one on your lips. 
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chuluoyi · 1 day
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。.*。☆゚ 🕰️ 03.12 a.m
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tw: pregnancy. just a little something based on ask~ gojo annoys you on daily basis, so now you return the favor and he can't refuse it bc you're his baby mama😋
a part of gojo's love entries
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“satoru— your baby is hungry,” you pouted, poking his cheek repeatedly. “sa-to-ru!!”
it was 3 in the morning, and ideally, you would have been sleeping... only that suddenly you were awoken by rumbles from your growing belly.
yet your husband was still sound asleep without any care in the world, prompting you to poke him until you succeeded in making him hear you out.
satoru begrudgingly cracked his eyes open, still having his face tucked under the blanket and yawning. “ngh, sweets… what is it?”
his sleepy voice was thick, low and raspy. usually you’d swoon and leave a hickey or two on his neck but not now, as the overwhelming hunger made you almost curl.
“baby is craving mochi,” you said, eyes shining up to him ever so innocently. “get it for me, satoruuu.”
“oh?” if he wasn’t awake before, now he was after hearing your nagging tone drawling his name. he faced you and drew you closer. “what do you want again, hmm?”
“ice cream mochi!!”
“oooh that.” satoru scratched his head at the memory of him eating the last of it yesterday. “but we ran out of them, sweetheart… wait till morning, yeah? i’ll go to market to get some.”
“but...”
“can’t baby wait a few more hours, hmm?”
“no! want it— now!”
satoru blinked at your insistence. you looked positively adorable while sulking at him too.
“why mochi all of sudden, huh?” he decided to humor you. “you used to say they taste bland.”
“that’s because of your sperm infecting me,” you sullenly accused. “and don’t pretend you haven’t been feeding me mochi for weeks. baby likes it more than i thought.”
“hey! don’t bash my sperm! they did no wrong and complete the deed splendidly!”
“you’re just a one-time donor, don’t be smug.”
he whined and you huffed, before suddenly your stomach grumbled loudly and you curled up. “mmhm.”
“hey… what’s wrong?” satoru quickly sat up and placed his hand on your baby bump. “really hungry? wait, i’ll get you something to nibble on first.”
he rummaged through his work uniform and found several bite-sized chocolate bars he brought around, and unwrapped the foil. “here.”
you immediately devoured the treat to sate your hunger, but still, your baby longed for more—
“mochi…” you mumbled despondently, your expression turning heartbroken. and one second later satoru realized how much he wanted to squeeze your cheeks, and relented.
“okay, okay, sweets~” he gave your head several comforting pats, making you look up. “i’ll go and get the mochi, yeah? you stay put and wait for me, 'kay?”
“yay.” a little smile bloomed in your face and satoru chuckled, finding you so unbearably endearing.
and so, for you, he ventured out to the closest 24-hour convenience store, picking up some ice cream mochi along with other treats to replenish your stock, before teleporting back home.
he was expecting that you'd still be all sulky while waiting for him, but instead, he found you peacefully asleep, hogging his pillow.
each breath that caused your chest to rise and fall made you appear all the more vulnerable and soft in his eyes.
you looked so irrevocably precious to him. his sweet little wife... in that moment, satoru felt like he was the luckiest man alive, getting to have you as his.
“you naughty girl.” he let out an amused laugh before reclaiming his spot next to you. the hold you had over him— you made him go through the cold night air, and now you were monopolizing his pillow and he had to resume sleeping without one at all.
and yet all he could feel was love. for you and your baby, as he pulled you close to his chest.
“both of you sure love teaming up against me, huh?”
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bkgml · 8 months
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katsuki stands at the doorway of your dorm room, feeling his heart clench.
he wants to cry.
you’ve been sleeping all day. he wants to hold you.
he takes shaky steps towards the lump of blankets piled on you. the blankets that he carefully draped over you hours before, kissing you gently as he smoothed the blankets over you.
you’re sleeping. you look soft and cute, like mochi.
he presses a soft kiss to your nose and your eyes flutter, but never open.
lifting the blanket and watching your brows furrowed from the cold air, he slips underneath the sheets.
you sigh breathily, squirming when he pulls you against him.
“i know, ‘m sorry.” he coos, pressing kisses anywhere he can reach.
you peel your eyes open, seeing your boyfriend.
your eyes always get a little glossy when you look at him, it’s the guilt of making him take care of you and him having to love you.
“don’t cry, c’mere.” he says pulling you tighter to him.
you dig your face into his pecs and he allows his hand to travel up the hoodie you’re wearing, the hoodie’s his and he placed it on you yesterday when he had a shower with you where he washed your hair and moisturized your face.
you lifted your chin to nose at his jaw, he hums softly. you and your nose make your way up his face, nosed against his lips and his cheek, then finally met his in a sweet eskimo kiss.
he smiles down at you, a soft smile that he reserves only for you.
you press your lips to his softly, the two of you molding together like you’re trying to come together as one.
he pulls away after a few minutes, feeling his lips press against your head while his arms hold you tight, grounding you.
“what’s goin on with you?” he asks gently.
he feels you stiffen in his hold
“will you come downstairs with me?” he asks gently, threading his fingers through your hair.
you look up at him with a pleading eyes, a look he recognizes as your ‘please don’t make me do this’ look.
“i’ll carry you. and we don’t have to talk to anyone.” he reasons and you lift your leg over his hips to pull him closer to you.
“you need to eat.” he says and you bury your face in your pillow.
he kisses your cheek softly.
“okay.” you mumble after a few minutes.
“really?” he asks hopefully and you nod slowly.
he starts to get up but you stop him.
“just… 10 more minutes.” you sigh and he settles back into the bed.
ten minutes come and go and you’ve fallen back asleep. katsuki rubs your head and whispers praise to wake you.
your eyes open and you sigh.
“you’re so good for me baby.” he says as he climbs out of the bed and grabs you from under your shoulders.
you wrap your limbs around him and start to tear up again.
“what is it? hm?” he asks, nosing at your neck and kissing your cheeks.
“i’m dragging you down.” you wail and his head tilts in confusion.
“i just get these episodes and you have to watch me rot away in here and you probably want to break up with me because i never go out with you and im so emotional all the time.” you sob, hands aggressively trying to wipe at your eyes.
your tears get cut off with a sweet kiss and a hand grabbing yours to pull them away from your face.
he gives you soft kisses while swaying you in the dark of your room until you’ve laid your head against his chest and your tears have stopped.
“i never want to break up with you.”
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peachsayshi · 2 months
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🩵
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ minors / ageless / blank blogs (dni) - dad gojo x reader
papa's scary face is how your daughter describes it. the difference when her usually bubbly, bright father morphs into somebody else. the expression he makes when she accidentally walks in on you and satoru having a serious argument. when she catches him coming home from work with his shoulders taut and his brows furrowed.
satoru's daughter is the light of his life - his little peace of heaven on earth. that's why he is so terrible when it comes to discipline (a lecture you constantly have to give him). she has never been on the receiving end of your lover's scary face. isn't familiar with the hardened muscles he express when serious, or notices the angry twitch of his jaw when frustrated.
it's rare, but these moments happen. satoru may possess godlike powers, but he's still inherently human. his very essence the same that make up you and your daughter.
you're surprised when you see her quietly tiptoe her way towards the sofa, towards you and her father. her energetic aura dwindled by silence. her bottom lip is tucked tightly between her teeth, her beautiful round eyes varnished with tears ready to fall.
satoru's face instantly drops with concern. his body immediately growing protective with his arm lightly slipping away from around your waist.
"you okay, mochi?" he asks sweetly, his brow quirking at her arms tucked behind her back.
you both know that she's hiding something.
"I did something bad" she says quietly, her worried voice so small it makes satoru spring to his feet to meet her halfway.
he crouches on his knees, his height daunting compared to hers. he lightly tugs at her frosty pigtail, and she sniffles ever so slightly to keep her brave face in place.
always trying to hold a strong front, just like her father.
"what did you do?" he asks with a gentle smile, watching her shift from one foot to the next.
" I..uhm...I was playing with your toys," she mumbles, unable to meet his gaze as she keeps her own firmly on her pattering feet. "I know they're yours. I know I have’ta ask first. I was tryna to be...uhm..."
"careful?" satoru completes, tilting his head in an attempt to make contact with his hesitant daughter who still hasn't figured out all her words just yet.
"yeh that..." she grumbles to reveal what's behind her hands.
you press your fingers against your lips when you see it.
satoru's favorite pair of sunglasses.
a limited edition pair from one of his favorite high fashion brands. he splurged a stupid amount of money of it. even kept the packaging because he hyper fixated on the details. the frame was extremely delicate, which is why he rarely wore it. but he gushed over it for almost a year since it's pre-release was announced.
his daughter, however, has a habit of sneaking into her father's room to steal one of the many pairs of shades that your lover wore. she enjoyed "modeling" them, and would flash poses in front of your bedroom mirror while sifting through his collection like they were treasure.
you and satoru have caught her doing this many times before, and while the both of you found it adorable, you realized that your daughter wasn't very careful when handling things.
she scratched the lens of another pair that belonged to her father. bent the temple of a second, which he hasn't been able to fix.
so, when satoru received these specific shades, the two of you sat her down to try and explain that she couldn't freely just loot around his stuff without asking for permission.
right now, those very shades where split into two in his daughter's hands.
satoru's jaw goes slack when he picks them up from her tiny palms, his cheeks tinting a slight red from surprise.
"im sorry, papa," she timidly begs, bringing her now empty hands to cover her eyes. her body heaves, you can see that she is trying really hard not to cry.
satoru allows the shock to settle for only just a minute, before he places the broken sunglasses by his side. there's something else that washes over him - relief.
he circles his arms around her wrists, tugging them away from her face but she keeps them fiercely in place. he chuckles with ease, shaking his head in disbelief as he loosens his grip to grab her waist and pull her into his frame.
"silly girl," he teases. "it's okay, papa's not mad, I promise..."
"but I didn't listen to what you 'n mama said-"
"I know," he sighs calmly, "and you know that was wrong, right? not to listen?"
she nods her head yes, her hands still covering her face.
"Eyes on me, grabby hands..." satoru lectures but she shakes her head no.
"Don't wanna see your scary face," she awkwardly admits, and you can't help but bite back a smile.
she's far too innocent to understand what those expressions. to young to acknowledge that they weren't always bad. that they were, in fact, normal. and that one day she will bare the cross of these complex emotions herself.
"scary face?" satoru huffs, "you think daddy has a scary face?"
she drops her hands to her side swiftly, revealing her guilt and wet cheeks. she furiously shakes her head no, taking in a large inhale as she wipes her face with the back of her hands.
it makes your heart ache watching her try to comprehend the weight of her small feelings.
"nu-uh," she reassures, "but-but sometimes..."
satoru kisses her plush cheek three times over to interrupt her eyes, "I am not mad at you, mochi," he consoles, "just promise you won't do it again."
"pinky swear!" she yelps as she searches for his long, slender digits. the relief brings the color back into her face, the pale sheet of white bloomed with a tiny blush. she hooks her pinky around satoru's, the size different so prominent, before eagerly wrapping her arms around his neck. "m'sorry, papa"
"it's okay, baby," he coos as he kisses her forehead.
the scene is heartwarming, and while satoru maintained his cool, you can still read the disappointment on his face.
the pair slip away from each other's arms, your daughter picking up the broken shades as she patters her way back down the hallway to give you both some privacy.
satoru gets up, his hand clutching his chest as he turns to give you a pathetically sad expression.
"how much does it hurt?" you tease, watching him drag his feet back to you.
you grumble when he collapses into your chest, burying his nose into your neck as he wraps his strong arms around your waist.
"this is the worst heartbreak of my life," he groans obnoxiously, and you raise your own brows in surprise.
"I thought our break up was the worst heartbreak you’ve experienced," you chide, twirling the strands of his soft hair between your fingers.
"seriously? you want to bring that up now? while I'm in mourning?"
you giggle when he sinks his teeth into the delicate flesh of your neck, nipping at your skin tenderly before exhaling with sorrow.
"ugh, she's got me wrapped around her fingers like taffy," he moans like he can’t believe his own defeat, "did you see her face? how can I even get mad?"
"I know, my love," you coo, consoling your own crybaby.
Minutes pass in silence before satoru finally ponders that, "maybe, I can find another pair online or something-"
"papa!" your daughter chirps, interrupting the moment as quickly as she graced it.
satoru untangles himself from your embrace, sitting upright to see her pigtails bouncing as she scampers towards you both. her steps hit the ground fast. he doesn't even have a chance to answer before she climbs on his lap, her eyes still a little glossy from shedding her tears. she wipes away the rogue strands of feathery hairs that stuck to her temple, before showing off what's in her hand.
"I fixed it for you," she beams, her face hopeful and optimistic.
Satoru picks up the glasses from between her fingers, noticing that she had used one of her washy tapes to stick the bridge back together.
It was blue, and had little ducks on it.
You can feel an eruption of laughter bubbling in your chest, but pure love bleeds through Satoru's eyes, completely moved by her gesture.
"Aww, mochi," he gently replies, tracing his thumb over the tape.
He arches forward to kiss her nose, while she seeks another embrace between mumbling into his ear that she loves him.
You simply melt by their side.
Satoru doesn't wear the glasses anymore, but he still keeps them. Bringing them out every once in a while to show his daughter that he still loves them.
Even though they sit quite lopsided on his handsome face.
[requests are closed]
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1000dactyls · 15 days
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faustmael.
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musubiki · 5 months
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Would it be wrong to say Pom is basically Mochi's second mom?
NOT WRONG AT ALL LMFAO!!!! when originally designed she wasn't meant to be, she was supposed to be much more jiji-like where she just sits on the sidelines and makes snarky comments, but the more pom interacts with others in my head the more she strikes me as the asian mom type who loves you but is mean to you because the standard is so high
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akinachiri · 1 year
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I HAD A PLAN OF LIKE... WHAT ENSTARS THINGS TO BUY BUT. I BOUGHT SENA NUI VERY IMPULSIVELY BC I WAS SAD AND NOW I KINDA MESSED UP THE PLAN FAHJSKFSHLKDG
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augustinewrites · 5 months
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cw: it’s just angst & jjk manga spoilers
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satoru wakes with a start.
his breaths come a little faster than his body can process, his heart is pounding in his chest, and his head feels like someone’s stuck a hot poker in it. 
it takes him what feels like a few minutes to settle down again, clutching the bedsheets in a tightly wound fist. 
once things seemed to have returned to a normal level, he tries to remember what’d startled him. was it a dream? a memory? had he simply jerked himself awake whilst on the precipice of sleep, like you claimed he did—
his mind seems to be clearing up, because his next instinct is to sit up and make sure you’re okay.
you’re fine, sound asleep on your side of the bed. 
satoru relaxes, albeit only slightly. he’s not sure why he’d been struck with such sudden panic. there’s just this…feeling. he might even go as far as to call it an overwhelming sense of dread, if he were dramatic.
there’s something. it’s hiding in the back of his brain, somewhere even his six eyes can’t find or comprehend. 
he leans back against the headboard, reaching up to run his hands through then lightly grip the strands of his hair. outside, the sun’s barely peeking over the horizon, but whatever had startled him had left him wide awake. 
“the kids are gonna be up soon,” you mumble, pulling him out of the mess of his mind. “better sleep while you have time.” 
time. the word flashes like a flint strike in his mind, but the sparks don’t quite catch yet.
so he lays next to you, wrapping an arm around you to pull you into his chest. he feels a bit better, with you in his arms. 
“what’s wrong?” you mumble, voice thick with sleep. 
“nothing,” he lies.
you hum, but he knows that you know him too well. you always know when he’s lying. 
you twist in his arms so the two of you are face to face, the tip of your nose brushing his. 
your sleepy gaze finds his, sending him a small smile. “hi.”
he doesn’t reply because he finds he’s too busy memorizing the details or your face; the flecks of colour in your eyes, the slope of your nose. it’s as if it’s the first time he’s seeing it.
or maybe the last.
the thought comes out of nowhere and scares him so badly that he tries to pull away.
“hey,” you murmur, cradling his face in your hands. he catches your wrist intending to pull you away, but instead he clings to you like a lifeline. you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. “you’re okay.”
he wants to believe you, he really does. but anxiety is beginning to gnaw on the edge of his sanity.
“something’s wrong,” he admits quietly. “i don’t— i don’t know—”
“you worry too much,” you sigh, your thumb smoothing over his cheek. 
“i just want us all to be safe,” he tells you. 
“i know,” you hum again, smiling a little sadly. “i just wish you wouldn’t let it come at your expense.”
there are a lot of things he wants to say in this moment. he wants to ask why you’re worried, because you know he’s the strongest. that he would rip the heavens apart for you. he wants to tell you that he has a plan, and that he knows it’ll work. 
(a plan for what? he thinks briefly. he can’t remember.)
but most of all…he wants to tell you that he loves you and the life you’ve built together. too much to leave it all behind. 
but all that comes out is,
“i’d rather it be me than any of you.” 
“don’t say that,” you frown. “we need you. i need you.”
there’s an awful ache settled deep in his chest, carving into the place where his heart sits.
“well, it’s a good thing i’m not planning to go anywhere anytime soon.” lie. “i love you.”
truth.
he rests his forehead against yours, tangling his fingers with yours. 
the memories hit him like a gut punch. 
handmade mochi. the flick of a lighter. a beach in okinawa. megumi and tsumiki laughing. you in your wedding dress, telling him you love him. 
a crowded station. the beginning of the end. 
his eyelids are suddenly heavy. there’s not enough time, he panics. that can’t be it—
“i’ll be here when you wake up,” you promise, and even though you sound like you’re a million miles away, he can hear the sadness in your voice. “you can rest now.”
satoru closes his eyes.
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gojoest · 11 months
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—reunion ;
how many times was it, you wonder.
that you opened the closet in your shared bedroom and found yourself staring at satoru’s clothes, and teared up because the last time you had them ironed, he was sitting on the bed behind you, throwing silly remarks at how you’re hotter than the steaming iron in your hand. you would roll your eyes and tell him that half of the time you were steaming hot was out of annoyance because he left the toilet seat up. and he would chuckle and say “my bad, love. won’t forget next time”.
that next time never came.
you would tear up every time upon seeing the toilet seat left down. so you got used to his habit and purposely kept it up at all times. because that way the bathroom had more semblance of when he was still around.
you would tear up simply glancing at his toothbrush placed in the holder because the bristles looked too hard and stiff since he didn’t get to use it in a long time. or the sunglasses he left on the nightstand that you couldn’t bring yourself to move and would carefully dust around so you didn’t change the way they were placed. because he left them there. he touched them last.
was it silly to think that as long as they stayed there, part of him would always be in that house? you didn’t know. but you clearly remember the day you had a breakdown in the middle of your kitchen because your friend threw the empty box of kikufuku mochi in the trash. it was the box he bought. the box he ate from. it was just an empty snack wrap, a trash. yet it felt like part of his presence was torn out of your life.
and this morning your alarm goes off. you open your eyes and sigh because you know how the routine goes— get up, see his sunglasses on the nightstand, tear up, wash your face, brush your teeth, see his toothbrush, tear up some more, smile at the toilet seat being up but then cry because it wasn’t him who left it that way but you, see his clothes when picking your outfit, cry, get dressed and go to work with puffy eyes.
but every once in a while, certain circumstances make it so you’re unable to stick to your daily routine. like oversleeping in the morning and then being forced to skip half of the steps in a rush so you don’t run late to work. or missing sunglasses on the nightstand, or the toilet seat left down, or a white-haired man, making pancakes in the kitchen (or an attempt at least).
“is this a dream or..”, you mumble with a shaky voice.
“if i burn the kitchen down— yes! it’s a bad bad dream”
tears build up in your eyes and you quickly rush to nuzzle into his chest, wrapping both arms around him and squeezing tightly.
“you.. you idiot”
“kept my word though— did you see the seat? left it down this time!”
“took you long..”
“my bad, love”, he chuckles resting his chin at the top of your head while squeezing you back into the hug, “but think i need a new toothbrush, this one hurts my gums”
he does need a new toothbrush. and this time you don’t mind throwing away the old one.
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