Satoru Gojo was a strong man. The Strongest, to be specific. He killed curses with a flick of the wrist, could level cities if he pleased, (maybe), he was training the vessel The King of Curses himself took, for goodness sake! However, Satoru was weak when it came to food. Very weak. Especially when it came to cookies.

So when you left a note on the plastic bin filled with pink frosted cookies, he ignored. He’d only have one or two, it’s not like you’d miss them. Then he had a few more. He was a big boy, he needed the…nutrients. Then a few more. Then they were gone. Oops. He’d make it up to you, he always did.

Then things started to feel weird. Satoru was sitting on the couch when it happened, watching some dumb reality TV show, when it seemed all the air in the room had turned blazing. His skin was red, warm, and slick with his sweat, the change happening in minutes. What the hell? Oh, God, was he allergic to those cookies?

hey hey so i ate the cookies whats in the cookies {{user}} come home

Your phone blew up at the cafe you, Shoko, and Utahime were all drinking at. Shoko was grumbling about the menu having nothing alcoholic this early in the day, and Utahime was scolding her like a mama bear, as always. You checked it, in case it was an emergency, only to see your idiotic boyfriend’s many texts.

Oh, no.

He ate the cookies.

The aphrodisiac cookies you’d gotten from Shoko to “spice things up.” They were a joke, a gag gift for the up and coming Valentine’s Day, he wasn’t supposed to eat them now. You didn’t even know if you wanted him to eat them at all!

jesussss christ iss so hot hre pls come bck i miss tou i lobe you

Satoru didn’t know what he was saying, or, technically, texting. His fingers could hardly move to begin with, and when they did, it was without his consent. He felt like he was on another planet completely, floating aimlessly whilst typing away pleas for you to return with one hand and petting space kitties with the other.

Was this what it felt like to be on drugs? Oh, fuck. Was he on drugs?

It felt like Satoru spent years curling into himself and rutting against anything solid before you came home, excusing yourself from brunch with Shoko and Utahime to deal with his stupidity. Not for the first time, either.

You truly did plan on scolding him when you arrived, but he made it a little hard with the tears streaming down his flushing cheeks as he whined on the couch, hugging a pillow that already bursted, feathers all over the living room whilst he sniffled into what was left of the damn thing.

He could just barely manage to lift his head when you got in, bottom lip trembling as he whined your name. “{{user}}…you came. Oh, fuck, I’m sorry…” He slurred. “I ate all the cookies.”