⟶ "i'm So Hungry I Could Eat ___" Trend With Satoru

i love reader. idc if she’s a bimbo or a crybaby or a little unhinged. good for her tbh. i love her in all shapes and forms. she is barbie. she is a doctor and a student and a barista and she can take five dicks at the same time. what a beautiful world we live in.

⟶ satoru's scented lip balm.

⟶ moot me up. pls

cw:: tooth rotting fluff, not proofread, gn!reader, babygirl!satoru

“Hey. C’mere,” Satoru whispers conspiratorially.

You look up at him. He's on the other side of your office, leaning against the wall. His blindfold conceals his eyes, but he struggles to hide the way the corners of his lips are twitching into a cheeky grin.

You tap your pen against the paperwork you're filling out, which was actually his paperwork that he pleaded with you to do, and roll your eyes. “No. You come here.”

He doesn't even argue, too caught up in what he really wants to share with you. He bounds over to your desk, pushes your chair back, and sits sideways over your lap. You let out a slight oof as he settles in, but your hands still wind around his waist.

“Notice anything different about me?” he purrs.

Your hands trace up and down his waist as you furrow your brows in thought. It doesn't seem like he's gotten his hair cut, and it looks like the same blindfold you'd just washed last night, and he hasn't painted his nails or gotten laser hair removal or gotten his already blinding teeth whitened further.

“No,” you shrug. “What is it?”

He huffs. “I’ll give you a hint.”

He leans forward, connecting his lips to yours. He kisses you slow and languidly, and although it's tempting to force your tongue through his shiny pink lips, you do resist.

He pulls away with a final peck. “Get it now?”

You still don't. “New toothpaste?”

“We share toothpaste, silly!” He huffs, knocking his forehead against your cheek. “Okay, one more hint.”

He places a kiss on your nose. Then another, and another, until your eyes are finally widening in realisation.

“New lip balm,” you say. He grins.

“Yes! You're so smart, baby.”

That explains the rosy tint to his lips, then. You bring a finger up, tracing along the slight sheen. “Pretty.”

“Okay, okay. Now guess the flavour.”

You hum, tilting your face towards his, your nose brushing against his lips very slightly. He doesn't resist the urge to give you another kiss, leaving the slightest pink shimmer on your skin.

You narrow your eyes, your stare wandering around the room as you think. “It's sweet.”

“Yep!” Satoru grins, his blindingly white teeth glinting from the corner of your eyes. “Guess!”

You sniff again, then once more. “Cherry.”

He squeals, wrapping his arms around your head and squeezing you to him. “You're so smart! My smart baby. You've earned another kiss.”

“Duh,” you smile, tilting your head up to meet his lips as they push against yours. It's a slow, affectionate kiss, and you can feel your fiancé's smile against your lips, drinking in all the things you feel for him but are too prideful to say.

You're so cute.

He pulls away, leaning his head atop yours, his cheek pressed to the crown of your head. “I need to keep my lips soft for you,” he sighs, answering your question before you can even say it.

You hum. “Thoughtful.”

NOOOOOOO LOOK AT HIM HES SO CUTE him when he sees me coming home from a long day of work but mustering up enough energy to plant a kiss on his jaw before i drag myself into the bedroom to change into my cozy pyjamas that he warmed in the drier for me then returning to the kitchen to see he's plated my favourite then letting him loop his arm around my bicep and being pulled into the living room to see he's queued up my favourite film and two glasses of wine ugh come home baby the kids miss u

EVERYBODY SHUT UP HE’S SMILING

he looks so comfy in that sweatshirt im going to bake him the fluffiest loaf of bread with soup and then kiss him

⟶ reader is mildly injured. satoru does not act accordingly

cw:: fluff/crack, gn!reader? (satoru calls em "princess") reader wears glasses, reader is injured (duh), just a really wee drabble to make myself feel better (eye hurt my feet), reader is a little mean

Tears prick at his bright blue eyes, threatening to spill over his red cheeks, pretty pink lips twisted in pain.

Funnily enough, it's not him who's in pain. It's you.

You, who is eyeing him with barely hidden disdain, feet propped up on the coffee table and a book in your hands. You tilt down your glasses to glare at him.

“What on earth are you moaning about?”

At that, your fiancé burst into tears, wriggling towards you and wrapping you in a suffocating hug, “Baby, I can't bear to see you in pain!” He buries his face in your neck, soaking your sweater as he wails in agony by proxy.

See, in a recent mission, you’d lost your shoes mid-fight. Rather than falling back, you'd continued through the pain, far too stubborn to even consider stopping to find your footwear. This resulted in the soles of your feet being torn to shreds, battered and bloodied.

(“I did win, though,” you said to Shoko as she wrapped up your feet in bandages.)

However, resultant of your injuries, Yaga has commanded you to stay home. And throughout the work day, Satoru was in pieces thinking of you. What if you're walking around? What if you've tripped over? What if, and God forbid, you left the apartment?

So to come home and see you cozied up on the couch, safe and sound, was too much for him. He ripped his blindfold off, pounced on you, and nuzzled right into your neck.

“That tickles. Please get off,” you mutter, trying to shove his head away.

He whines, only tightening his arms around you, knocking your book out of your hands and onto the floor. “I was worried sick! What if my sweet angel baby princess was walking around? My poor heart couldn't handle it!”

“Seek psychiatric help,” you say, rolling your eyes and pushing your glasses up to your head. Despite yourself, you can't help shifting on the couch to wrap both your arms around him, pressing a kiss to his white hair.

He sighs in satisfaction, feeling your arms around him. “Baby, being with you is enough to keep me sane.”

“Well, clearly not.”

He ignores your jabs, pressing his face right into the crook of your neck with a pleased little giggle, as though he really is trying to merge his own skin with yours.

“I'll start carrying you everywhere I go over my shoulder.”

“You will not.”

“Booo. You're mean.”

Gojo and his kids ☺️

@shiu_kong

@kento_nanami

@hiromi_higuruma

trope reversal "nice to everyone and only mean to their beloved" aka "autistic person who masks in public and the one person they can let it down around"

geto n his pregnant wife !!

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(hope this helps some ppl)

⟶ satoru is a stinking glasses thief

cw:: just fluff/crack, reader is sick of him (affectionately), gn!reader

It’s 12PM when you realise you haven't seen your glasses all day.

Squinty-eyed, you trudge into the bedroom, trying to discern a pair of frames from the clutter and blurriness that greets you.

“Babe, you haven't seen my glasses have you?” you ask, searching through the bedside table before standing up and looking at him. You sigh.

“Nevermind. Found them,” you say, reaching out to pluck them off of his face. Satoru swats your hand away, grinning impishly.

“I look hot, right?” he grins (you think. it could be him baring his teeth in pain. It's blurry), taking your hand and pulling you down to the bed.

“I don't know. I can't see.”

“I always think you look super hot. So, what's the verdict? Do I look as good as you? Better?” He tugs you towards him, looping an arm around your shoulders and tilting your head up to his with a crooked finger.

“I dunno. Give me my glasses back and I'll let you know.”

He frowns, the cogs visibly turning in his head. “But then you won't see me wearing them..!”

You finally manage to wrangle your glasses off of him, sliding them back onto your face, blinking as your eyes readjust to the new focus. His little pout begs for your attention in ultra definition, and you can't help but pull his lip down, letting it bounce back up.

He sighs again, pulling you into his lap and poking you in the side. “You need to buy spares so you can see how hot I look in your glasses, okay?”

You roll your eyes. “I had spares. You sat on them—”

“Potato, potahto! You know, I always have to straighten your glasses after we make out sloppy style. You don't wanna straighten mine?” He bats his eyelashes at you, pressing his face right up to yours so you can get a good view of the way crocodile tears spring to his big blue eyes.

“I think I can live without.” You press a playful kiss to his lips.

“But you shouldn't.” He presses another kiss to your lips, then another, then another. “But I’ll forgive you if you promise to buy another pair, okay?”

You snort at his audacity, pinching his nose. “Fuck no. You broke them, you can replace them.”

He whines loudly, throwing himself back on the bed and starfishing. He remains that way for a full four seconds (new record) before springing back up.

“Okay!” He presses yet another kiss to your lips, before scooping you up and taking you to the living room, wrapped around him in a princess carry. “I'll order.”

You hum, readjusting your glasses. You scoff when you notice the visible finger marks on the lenses. “You touched the lense with your sweaty hands. Disgusting.”

“Oh, that's why your lenses were so blurry.”