Everyone Say I Hope Ur Poor Feet Get Better Eviekins - Blog Posts

⟶ 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.”