I Have Been Thinking About The Dress Taylor Swift Wore To The 2025 Grammys So Have This Drabble.

Everyone wanted to be thicc but nobody wanted to be fat. Everyone wanted the dad bod but nobody wanted to be fat. Everyone wants fat mommy milkers but nobody wants mommy to be fat. Everyone wants to be a bear but not like, an actual fat bear. You get what i’m saying

Ah Yes. Me. My girlfriend. And her ¥75,000 plushie of myself.

-Pomegranate seeds mood board-

I keep staring at the Saint doc and it stares back at me, then nothing gets done 🫠

I love writing because I will stop to look something up to make sure it is historically accurate then I somehow end up scrolling tumblr for hours

pairing – gojo x oblivious!reader

a/n : short drabble based on this ask :3 , i am always humbling reader in my fics so let's make him grovel here to make it fair :3

7:42 AM.

the little bell above your diner's door chimes, and like clockwork, he's here.

the morning sun slants through the wide glass windows, casting long golden streaks across the checkered floor. the scent of fresh bread lingers in the air, mingling with the faint hum of an old jukebox playing some soft, jazzy tune. satoru gojo steps in like he owns the place—like he owns every space he walks into—moving with that effortless arrogance of a man who’s never been told ‘no’ and actually believed it.

his sunglasses dangle from the collar of his crisp white shirt, his sleeves rolled up just enough to tease at lean forearms, veins faintly visible beneath his skin. there's a playful ruffle in his snowy hair, like he just ran a careless hand through it, and the slight crook of his lips makes it very clear he’s in one of his moods. outside, the world is still waking up, but here, in this tiny corner of the city, satoru gojo is already in full swing.

but the real kicker? the grin. that goddamn grin, lazy and lopsided, as if he already knows he's won a game you didn't even know you were playing. it's the kind of smile that should come with a warning label—dangerous, reckless, prone to making your stomach flip if you’re not careful.

you shoot him a bright smile, already reaching for his usual. “morning, satoru! long night?”

he leans against the counter, the wood creaking under his weight, eyes locked onto yours with the kind of intensity that should set something on fire. “awful. i spent hours thinking about something. couldn't sleep a wink.”

your brows furrow slightly, fingers wrapping around a tall glass as you place his usual drink in front of him. “oh no! work stuff?”

he takes a slow sip of his chocolate malt milkshake—extra whipped cream, just the way he likes it—his lips curving around the straw in an infuriatingly slow manner. his gaze never wavers. “you stuff, actually.”

you gasp, absolutely touched. “satoru! that's so sweet! i had no idea you liked my cooking that much.”

his fingers tighten ever so slightly around the cold glass. a lesser man would fold right then and there, but satoru gojo? delusional.

he chuckles, low and smooth, tilting his head as his voice drops to that slow, deliberate drawl. “i do like your food, but i was thinking more about the woman behind the counter. the one with the cute apron and the even cuter smile.”

your eyes light up, and for a second—just one, fleeting second—his heart leaps. this is it. she finally—

“oh my god, you mean—mika?! yeah, she’s great! she only works the afternoon shift, though. i can give you her number if you want?”

satoru's soul ascends. and it's not in the good way.

“no,” he says, voice tight, and it takes everything in him not to cry-laugh into his milkshake. “i meant you, sweetheart.”

your lips part slightly, like the thought has never even occurred to you. "me?"

“you,” he repeats, a little more desperate now, like a man clinging to a lifeline in stormy waters. “c’mon, don’t tell me you’ve never noticed how much i like you.”

you blink once. then twice. then— “aw, satoru!” you beam, placing a warm hand over his much larger one, your fingers barely covering the span of his knuckles. “i like you too!”

his breath hitches.

“you're such a great friend!”

the moment stretches, hangs in the air like a thread about to snap. satoru doesn’t blink. doesn’t breathe. somewhere in the distance, a car honks, a cup clatters, life moves on.

but then you squeeze his hand—soft, warm, devastatingly innocent—and flash him a smile so radiant he nearly forgets the last ten seconds ever happened.

“here! on the house today,” you say, sliding a small plate of fluffy cream puffs toward him. the golden shells glisten under the morning light, filled to the brim with silky vanilla custard and dusted with a light sprinkle of powdered sugar. “something sweet for someone just as sweet!”

…he’s never been more in love in his entire life.

“babyyyy,” gojo whines, phone pressed to his face as you hear the crinkle of hospital-grade paper beneath him. “I think they stole my bones.”

“…your bones, satoru?”

“yes. the ones in my face. my jaw? gone. cheeks? hollow. I am but a shell of a man.”

he’s high as a kite, clearly. still in the dentist’s chair, judging by the background noise — also by how you can hear yaga not-so-quietly telling the nurse to sedate him, not the swelling.

“are you now?” you coo, smiling as you sink back into the couch. “how’s my brave little soldier?”

he pulls the phone back, and — oh. oh, he looks ridiculous. his hair’s flattened on one side, cheeks swollen, sunglasses crooked, and someone’s drawn a smiley face on the gauze tucked into his mouth.

“they took ‘em,” he says dramatically. “took my wisdoms. said I had too many.”

“you had four. that’s the normal amount.”

he blinks. “what if I needed those for kissing?”

“you don’t use wisdom teeth to kiss.”

“you don’t know that,” he says, with the conviction of a man who absolutely does not know. “also. can we get milkshakes?”

“did they say you could have one?”

“not right now,” he admits. “but I wanna watch you drink.” he squints at you through the camera, gaze slipping lower. perv. “you’re soooo good at it.”

“okay, ‘toru.”

he slumps further into the chair, wearing the softest, dopiest expression — like he just realized you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him. you are.

“‘m gonna marry you.”

“we’ll revisit that when you’re off those drugs.”

“we’re gonna have milkshake babies.”

“sure we are.”

he smiles, droopy and dazed. “I’ll always be in love with you, babe. even without my bones.”

“you still have your bones, satoru.”

“did you check?”

“I’m hanging up.”

you hear a rustle — followed by a loud thud.

“did you just fall out of the chair?”

a pause. then: “…no.”

you sigh, already slipping on your shoes.

“behave. I’m coming to get you.”

“bring a spoon,” he mumbles, “so you can feed me like a baby bird. and your face. miss your face.”

“you’re lucky you’re cute, satoru.”

Okay so the first chapter of Dirty little secret will most likely posted tomorrow or Sunday also I have an outlaw!Yuki drabble that will be posted soon 👀

I just reached 50 followers on here, I am sobbing thank you guys 🥹

Someone just book marked my Satosugu fic and wrote Geto simp. I don’t know if they were talking about me or themselves but they ain’t wrong