kristinthegeek

[kristinthegeek]

unfortunately a hot demon boy band would totally work on me

[kristinthegeek]

I RECENTLY HEARD FREE (JINU AND RUMI FEATURE SONG)

They invented romance, soulmates, forbidden love, and yearning. like GUYS IM SO SHOCKED!!

[kristinthegeek]

nobody talk to me for 3-5 business days i'm in mourning

[kristinthegeek]

I worked on Kpop Demon Hunters for about a year and a half and it's finally coming out on netflix tomorrow! yay!

this is a doodle I did and they ended up making it into crew merch lol

stupid sexy sajas

it's a super fun movie and like with every movie sony does now we tried some fun new things with the animation and style, so give it a watch and I hope you enjoy!

[kristinthegeek]

cutest adorable horangi and kkachi

[kristinthegeek]

happy Kpop Demon Hunters day!! im so excited to watch this im going absolutely bonkers

[kristinthegeek]

Tired from practice 🫣

[kristinthegeek]

just watched kpop demon hunters and IT DID NOT NEED TO BE THAT GOOD-

great songs, cute romance that wasn't too much but had my lonely ass GIGGLING, solid friendships...what more could i want

exactly the mood boost i needed today!

[kristinthegeek]

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ jason todd x fem reader. fluff. ⭑ stealing your heart wasn't enough, he wants your chores too.

A giggle bubbles up in your throat, half-muffled by the whirring of the vacuum in your hand as your boyfriend’s familiar white-streaked head appears out of nowhere, nuzzling into the crook of your neck like a cat that knows it’s not supposed to be on the kitchen counter.

“Hey, Jay,” you say, trying not to smile. The vacuum hums, but his presence is louder.

He grins against your skin, and you shiver when his lips brush dangerously close to that spot just under your jaw. “Hey, pretty girl,” he murmurs, the words like velvet with mischief.

You squint suspiciously, already bracing. “What are you doi—Jason!”

In the blink of an eye, the vacuum handle is no longer in your grasp. One second it’s yours, and the next, it’s in his annoyingly nimble hands as a victorious smirk grows on his face.

“You thief!” you cry, scandalized.

Jason’s laugh is low and smug. “Never heard anyone get upset about not having to do chores before. Usually, people are begging me to take over.”

Damien scoffs so loudly that you can easily hear it from where the both of you are standing across the room. “That’s because your skunkhead constantly insists on giving them to me when it’s your turn.”

Jason tilts his head, unbothered. “Says the brat who still thinks dish soap is floor cleaner.”

“I’ll wash them red with your blood instead!”

You sigh and fold your arms. “If one of you gets stabbed again, I’m not mopping up the evidence this time.”

Jason raises an eyebrow, playful. “Not even for Alfred’s cookies?”

You pause. Beat.

“…Never mind. Carry on.”

[kristinthegeek]

synopsis ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ you talk about your husband like he is a dream and, frankly, your coworkers think that you are making him up. that is until your husband shows up.

you talked about your husband all the time.

nanami this nanami that

“oh, my husband makes the best lunchboxes”

“he stayed up to help me with my report”

“he walks me to the station when i stay late”

you weren’t annoying about it. not really. just a little too consistent. always saying things like “he’ll pick me up after work today, we’re going to get pastries!” and showing off texts that made your coworkers tilt their heads and squint.

kento nanami sounded fake.

a little too nice. a little too attentive.

and when you tacked on the fact that he was hot — “blond, tall, glasses, kinda quiet but really handsome, you know?” — people at work started to think that maybe you were pulling everyone’s leg.

just a little.

not out of malice — no, never that — but maybe you were lonely. maybe you just needed a sweet little fantasy to get you through the day. who could blame you?

because no way someone like nanami existed. not the way you described him. it just didn’t sound real. not in this world. not in this economy.

but you never let up.

you beamed like a lovesick fool when your phone lit up with his name. you refused to make afterwork plans on fridays because that was “friday pasta night with kento.” you sighed wistfully every time someone so much as mentioned a bakery and then whispered, “kento always remembers my favorite,” like you were in some fairytale.

you weren’t smug about it either. it was just… relentless. like you were trying to manifest it into reality.

and maybe it would’ve stayed harmless water cooler gossip — “hey, what do you think her husband actually looks like?” or “maybe it’s just her roommate who makes all the food?” — if you hadn’t mentioned that he’d be picking you up from work one day soon.

“he’s on leave,” you’d said, head bent over a spreadsheet, smiling to yourself. “wants to take me out for dinner. he’ll be here early. maybe you’ll see him.”

you said it innocently. with that dreamy lilt you always got when his name was on your tongue.

but that set off everyone.

bets were placed. theories floated. some said he’d never show. others swore they’d catch you whispering to your reflection in the hallway like a crazy person. one guy from accounting said he saw you with a facetime open to a picture of a k-pop idol and he swore it was nanami. it was all harmless. mostly.

people just didn’t believe it.

until the elevator doors slid open.

and nanami stepped out.

he wore a tan wool coat, fitted slacks, button-up half undone at the throat — all that fine-tuned, elegant masculinity that seemed sculpted into place. hair slicked back, wristwatch glinting, and an expression that was all quiet restraint, the kind that turned heads on instinct.

and his eyes — sharp, deep, familiar — scanned the room once, then softened the moment he saw you.

“you ready, sweetheart?” he asked.

your coworkers went silent.

someone dropped their pen.

you lit up instantly. grinned, grabbed your bag, waved at everyone with a cheery, “see you tomorrow!” like this wasn’t the most monumental moment of vindication in the history of your office.

nanami took your coat from you before you even shrugged it off fully. guided you with a hand on the small of your back. leaned in and brushed a kiss to your temple so naturally that your coworker audibly gasped.

he glanced up then. noticed the sea of frozen faces.

“good evening,” he said politely, like he didn’t just obliterate the collective doubt of your entire floor with one gentle peck.

you left with him. smiling, chatting, looping your arm through his as he opened the door and held it for you.

and behind you — a stunned, stunned silence.

“…so,” someone whispered, finally. “that was nanami?”

“the nanami?” another croaked.

“that man’s real?”

“she wasn’t even exaggerating,” came the hollow, awe-struck reply. “she was under-selling him.”

and in the elevator, nanami turned to you and smiled, faint but amused. “you were right,” he murmured, “they really didn’t believe i existed.”

you snorted and leaned into his side. “i told you. now they’ll think i made you in a lab.”

“i wouldn’t be bothered by that,” he said, tugging you closer, kissing your knuckles as the doors closed. “you did a perfect job, if so.”

[kristinthegeek]

currently smiling like a madman

“my boyfriend wants to show you his books, and you better say they’re cool,” you demanded while glaring at the camera. an amused jason could be seen in the back as you made way for him to take center stage. “go, babe.”

“hi,” your boyfriend awkwardly greeted before showing off the two paperback books in his hands. “so this one is ‘frankenstein’ by mary shelley. i know we all dreaded reading it in high school, but i really relate to frankenstein’s monster, and the story’s pretty good if you just give it a chance. plus, it’s a pioneer for the science-fiction genre, so that’s cool.”

you could be seen behind jason making threatening gestures with your hands, almost as if to say ‘leave a nice comment, or you’re getting blocked!’

“and this one is ‘pride and prejudice’ by jane austen. another oldie but a classic,” jason said with a nonchalant shrug. “the writing’s beautiful, and i love elizabeth’s character because she reminds me of a certain someone. probably one of my favourite books of all time and just a really good comfort read.”

he turned to see your face quickly morph into heart-eyes and a sweet smile.

“good job, honey. that was a great presentation,” you praised before giving his cheek a loving kiss.

“oh, and i’m also part of a book club. we meet at the community center in the bowery every thursday evening. new members are always welcome,” jason off-handedly added.

“and new members are always welcome,” you sharply reiterated, glancing at the camera with a scary scowl and furrowed brows. “see you thursdays.”

gothambaddiexoxo commented: this man was written by a woman lol singleasapringle commented: girl, where can i get myself a boyfriend like this 😭 birdzofprey0 commented: sooo does everyone in this book club look like him or?? asking for a friend

inspired by this video here. REBLOGS and COMMENTS are greatly appreciated

[kristinthegeek]

had me giggling lmao

one thing about satoru, his eyes are terrifying at night.

especially when his infinity is turned on. his eyes are glowing.

one night you got into an argument with satoru, leading you facing the other way in bed and he strictly put himself in infinity so you couldn’t touch him as a punishment. you weren’t going to anyway.

while you were facing the other way in bed, the blanket pulled over the both of your bodies, you close your eyes, attempting to sleep.

…until you feel lasers poking at your back.

you turn to the side a bit, getting that instinct that something’s watching you.

it’s satoru.

his eyes blown wide, staring at you, bright blue glowing.

“satoru, stop staring at me. it’s creepy.”

“what? i can’t stare at my spouse now? jeez. can a man do anything in life anymore?” he huffs, looking to the side in pretend frustration.

“no, you can’t. not at night.”

“fine. goodnight.”

you mumble a goodnight back, turning back to face the other way.

you close your eyes again, trying to sleep.

you feel piercing through the back of your head.

you swiftly turn around again, brows furrowed at satoru.

“i said stop staring at me!” you said, angry.

“i’m not! i’m staring at a spider crawling on your pillow.”

“oh please. if there were a spider crawling on my pillow you’d be the first to scream.” you scoff, turning back around.

minutes go by.

whipping your head around, “satoru, you’re being a freak right now!”

his eyes are still, big and glowing blue, absolutely freakishly terrifying. “i’m not even doing anything!”

“at least turn off that stupid infinity so you’re not as scary!”

“wow. so you’re saying i’m scary and ugly and hideous now and that i belong under the bed because i’m a monster. what affection.” he turns around the other way, turning off his infinity.

you sigh, finally finding your peace, turning back around, closing your eyes.

you relax…

…before slowly grabbing another pillow, turning and wacking him straight in the face. because again, he was staring at you with those big blue creepy ass eyes!

“owww!!! i just wanted to look at you!” his voice mumbled under the pillow.

@wizzperrrs on tumblr don’t translate or copy yk the deal

[kristinthegeek]

satoru "i love my wife" gojo.

the man was practically a puppy nipping at your heels. when you were dating, he attempted to be less clingy at times because he didn't want to scare you off, but since you're stuck with him forever now, he has no issue clinging to you.

you both could be in public, and his arm would be around your waist the whole time. if you're looking at something, he'll hug you from behind and rest his chin on your head until you're done looking.

and also, ever since you both got married, know that you won't be addressed as anything but 'my wife' for a while.

there's no more sweet names like baby, honey, or love. it's always 'my wife', but emphasize the 'my'.

he will literally scream the 'my' part and just normally say 'wife' because he wants everyone to know that you're his.

"do you want your usual?" satoru would ask as you both walked into a cafe, and you would nod in response while he just gave you a smile. his hand was currently interlocked with yours, and with how tight he was holding it, you knew you wouldn't be able to let go any time soon. the barista looked at you both as she gifted you a smile, and she turned her attention to satoru. "what can i get you two?" "i'll have..." satoru hummed before pointing at a coffee on the screen. it couldn't even classify as coffee—it mostly looked like foam and whipped cream with a bunch of sprinkles and mochi on it. "that one." the barista nodded as she tapped on the screen in front of her, "is that all?" "also, can MY—" the cafe fell quiet with satoru's shout, and the barista just quietly laughed once you smacked his arm. yet, the man only grinned before contiuing. "can my wife have that one?" he pointed to the screen that had your usual order, and the woman nodded. "your total is twelve dollars and sixty-seven cents." "can you write 'gojo's wife' on her cup?" the barista nodded at satoru's question, and you just frowned. yet, you didn't mean the frown. more than anything, you wanted to jump into satoru's arms and laugh at his stupidity. a few minutes later, your orders came out, and on your cup read 'gojo's wife.' when you finished your drink, you cleaned out the cup and stored it in a box with all the little trinkets satoru has given you over the years.

that's also another thing about being married to satoru—he gives you random things, and you can never tell what he's going to give you next.

one day, he'll bring you your favorite flowers, and then the next day, he'll bring you a random rock he found on the ground.

the best part about that, though, is the face he makes when he gives you the trinket.

he'll have a bright grin on his face while holding out the object in both of his hands, and if his blindfold is off, his eyes are practically shining with excitement and curiosity as to how you'll react.

and trust me, he memorizes how you react. that's one of the things you love most about him. he pays attention.

if you get really happy over one gift, he'll start bringing things like that around more. if you only smile at him and thank him for the gift, expect to find those things in the trash later.

he wants all your trinkets and gifts to be things that make you insanely happy—not just meh.

though, he doesn't just pay attention to how you react over trinkets. he memorizes everything about you.

he can tell your mood from the tiniest things.

if your eye twitches even the slightest bit, he knows you're irritated and will get rid of whatever is bothering you. if the corners of your lips fall down for a split second, he knows you're upset and will try to make you laugh. if you narrow your eyes, he knows you're mad, and will try to calm you down.

the reason he does this is because he wants you to know that he does pay attention, for he never wants you to feel neglected.

another thing he does is that he will have a serious conversation with you on the oddest topics.

his tone will make people think that he's talking about the earths issues or whatnot, but in reality, he's just talking about how it's stupid some birds have wings but then they can't fly.

"what do you mean ostriches can't fly because they're too heavy? are you calling them fat?" satoru frowned at you from where he sat—slowly resting his head on the kitchen island while you rummaged through the fridge for dinner ideas. "yes, i am calling them fat. they're too heavy to fly." your answer only made satoru pout. "then why do they have wings at all!? it's like false advertising for birds—can you even call them birds at that point if they can't fly!?" "birds are defined by their wings, feathers, and beak." "okay, first of all, you're a nerd." satoru commented as you walked over to the kitchen island, and you leaned against it while staring at satoru. "and secondly, that's stupid. wings are supposed to help you fly. like, why do penguins have wings?" "they're flippers, toru." "SHUT UP! THEY LOOK LIKE WINGS!"

now, satoru does a lot of random things, but a favorite has to be when your phone camera is on.

no, not just on him, but you as well.

your selfies? most of them have him in it. it's either his hand is in a peace sign, his arm is wrapped around you, or he secretly leans his head in frame and sticks out his tongue.

your mirror photos? his arm is wrapped around your waist with his chin on your shoulder, or if he's shirtless, he will step behind you and flex.

you complain, but you always end up looking back at those photos with a smile.

now, when the camera is on him, he does take it seriously. many think he would be funny with it, but satoru knows he's handsome.

so, he has to make sure all of your photos of him are good-looking so when you look back at them—he knows you look back at them—you remember how amazing he is.

but if you asked him to be silly, he just has to do it.

not because he wants to, but because you want him to.

he'd do anything for you, which is why he's satoru 'i love my wife' gojo.

he would legally change his middle name to that if it proved to you that he is hopelessly in love with you.

a/n : someone's reblog text of one of my other writings inspired this.

comments & reblogs are appreciated !!

[kristinthegeek]

no because satoru would 100% rest his chin on your shoulder and sway you side to side when you’re brushing your teeth together.

you’re both standing in front of the sink like a couple in a toothpaste commercial—except it’s nothing like that. because satoru won’t stay on his side. won’t stay still. he’s brushing his teeth and somehow also wrapped around you like an oversized koala.

he’s got his stupid long arms slung around your waist, chin on your shoulder, toothbrush dangling from his mouth while he sways you gently from left to right. you’re trying to focus on your brushing form. he is not.

he starts humming around the toothbrush like it's a kazoo. the vibrations tickle your neck. you elbow him. he takes it as encouragement. now he's full-on doing choreographed sways like you're ballroom dancing to the theme song of your shared toothpaste tube. the worst part? he’s smiling through it. foamy toothpaste grin and everything.

“mmnff luff you,” he mumbles into your shoulder.

“what?”

he lifts his head, leans in dramatically with paste still in his mouth: "i said: i love you, toothbrush edition."

you try to rinse your mouth. he tries to spit in the sink at the same time. it’s chaos. it’s routine. you think you might actually kill him someday and he’ll die grinning with mint breath and a heart full of stupid domestic joy. he’s such a clingy housecat of a boyfriend. affectionate and annoying in equal measure.

“why do you always do this?”

“‘cause you're cuter in the mirror next to me.”

[kristinthegeek]

“No, Satoru - get off - stop - yes, I love you, but stop!”

Your words come out in gasps, slight coughs, muffled by the sheer weight of your very dramatic and clingy boyfriend sprawled right on top of you. His legs tangled with yours under the blankets.

He’s just grinning - no, beaming - with that annoyingly pretty smile, the one that makes his eyes crinkle and his snow-white lashes catch the light just so. “You love me,” he coos, absolutely ignoring every single shove to his shoulders as he kisses the tip of your nose. “Awwww, baby, you love me - ”

“Satoru,” you wheeze, weakly shoving at his chest. “I’m sick! I’m coughing! I’m contagious!”

“I’m Gojo Satoru,” he says like it’s the cure to all illnesses. “Infinity, baby. Built different.”

“You’re built annoying - ”

“Mmm but you loooove me,” he sings, wrapping himself tighter around you until you’re basically nose-to-nose, his legs hooked around yours, his hands cupping your cheeks. “Admit it. Even sick, I’m irresistible.”

“You’re annoying.”

“You’re in love with me though.”

He snorts when you squeal as he nuzzles into your neck, pretending to sniff like a bloodhound. Deep inhales and loud huffs. “Ugh, even your sick smell is cute..”

You’re breathless, laughing and groaning at the same time as you whine, “Satoru, I’m going to cough in your mouth - ”

He leans back with a dreamy look. “Spit in it, baby.”

“Satoru!!”

Though they do say the best way to get over an illness is to give it to the next person!

[kristinthegeek]

satoru gojo—the strongest sorcerer—is an absolute softie when it comes to his wife.

the man could kill everyone in japan if he wanted to, yet when you're around, he's as dangerous as a kitten.

and that confused everyone around him.

how was it that even a murmur of your name would make the famous gojo gush and drop everything to talk about you? he could be in the midst of fighting a curse, but if his phone buzzes and your name is on the screen? that curse might as well accept its fate or be prepared for him to be on call with you for the remainder of the fight.

"toru, are you busy?" "not at all, baby—" his words would be cut off as the curse he was fighting attempted to land a hit on him, and the call would only fill with the sound of crashes before you realized what was happening. "are you seriously in the middle of a mission!?" your question remained unanswered for a second before you heard satoru laugh, "i mean, i was, but did you need something? money? sweets? a photo of your handsome husband?" "SATORU!"

it's clear to everyone that gojo is in love with you. he wouldn't just take a bullet for you, but rather a whole nuclear bomb if needed. he's willing to risk everything for you—even his job.

if he's in a meeting and you call him, he's picking up the phone no matter how many dirty looks he gets. what are they going to do about it? he's the strongest, but with the way he acts around you, you'd think otherwise.

his students have noted that every time you come into his classroom, he'd grin like a high schooler in love. he practically has heart eyes that you can see through his blindfold.

"gojo-sensei?" yuji's voice rang out in the classroom, "yes, yuji?" gojo's tone was filled with boredom as the man was leaning back in his chair—feet on top of his desk while he lifted a finger to pull back his blindfold. yuji was seen with megumi and nobara, and all three of them were pointing at the door. where you, his lovely wife, stood with a bento box. "you forgot your lunch—" "MY WIFE!" the sound of gojo's chair hitting the floor echoed as you took a step back from the doorframe, yet your attempt to move out of the way was pointless as gojo barreled toward you with open arms. his arms wrapped around you in a tight hug, and you let out a quiet sigh as you held the bento box up. "is my beautiful wife here to visit her husband?" "i'm here to give you your lunch, toru." "MY BEAUTIFUL WIFE LOVES ME ENOUGH TO COME VISIT ME!" while gojo continued to ramble with you still in his arms, the three students watched the scene with narrowed eyes. "do you think she ever gets tired of him?" nobara asked bluntly, and yuji only shrugged. they continued to watch as gojo only hugged you tighter, and a soft smile appeared on your face as he continued to talk. "i don't think so..." yuji mumbled before turning his attention back to his phone, and the others did the same thing. except for gojo. because his attention was on you and you only.

comments & reblogs are always appreciated !!

[kristinthegeek]

satoru insists on being your lock screen.

like actually insists. he’s made it his personal mission, his divine right, his sacred duty as your overly clingy, stupidly hot husband. the moment he sees your screen light up with anything that isn’t his face—your cat, a flower, a quote graphic—he gasps like you’ve just committed adultery in 4k.

“...a sunset? a sunset?” he blinks at you like you’ve betrayed every vow. “is the sun a pretty man with ocean eyes? no. do you kiss the sun goodnight? no. do better.”

instead of letting it go like a normal person, he floods you with selfies. hundreds. different lighting. different angles. thirst traps with his shirt pulled up to flaunt the sin that is his eight-pack. mirror pics where he’s flexing. ones where he’s pouting. one where he’s fake crying. him stuffing his mouth with mochi. him dramatically sobbing with a caption that reads, “you used to love me.”

and the worst part? he’s sending all of this while sitting beside you. phone angled down, giggling like a schoolboy, thinking he’s being slick while your inbox explodes. you’re already overwhelmed when you see it.

sandwiched between selfies and spam, a very accidental mirror pic. last night. you, bent over the bathroom counter, absolutely ruined, face flushed, mouth open in a silent gasp, while satoru stands behind you grinning like a menace, very much still inside you. you scream. you hit him. he yelps but laughs, no shame, no apology. “oopsie~” and “you looked so good, though.”

he doesn’t stop even as you glare. now he’s negotiating. bartering. one lock screen slot for a back massage. five minutes of home screen privilege if he orders your favorite takeout. a full 24 hours if he lets you pick the movie and doesn’t complain even once. he even pulls out the big guns—puppy eyes, soft voice, a breathy, “baby… do it for love.”

you roll your eyes, say no, but you’re already folding. he casually shifts on the couch, hand propping up his jaw just right, profile lit perfect by the golden hour. “what about now?” he says, voice all smug, like he doesn’t already know he’s stupidly pretty. “i’m moisturized. glowin’ like your man should. tell me that’s not lock screen material.”

and in his defense? your face is everywhere on his phone. lock screen, home screen, widget rotation. polaroids of you tucked inside his clear case—some with your cheek squished to his, one with your wedding bands on display. siri responds only to your voice. his notifications banner still reads “i ❤️ my wife.”

his favorites bar? just your contact and his camera roll. album names include: “my baby 🫶,” “hot wife hours,” and “the loml fr.” he’s got slow-mo videos of you laughing, candid shots he took while you were sleeping, a live photo of you on your wedding day spinning in your dress. even that pic you told him to delete? it’s buried in a hidden folder titled with a heart emoji and he opens it like it’s the damn grail.

it’s not even a bit—he just genuinely thinks you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. so really, is it too much to ask for one lock screen in return? balance, baby. harmony. fairness in marriage.

you hold your ground for a solid ten minutes. you really do. arms crossed, phone untouched, lips pursed like you’re not even thinking about giving in. but then he starts pulling out the big guns—his stupidly pretty face all soft and glowy from your skincare, his voice low and coaxing like he’s seducing you into sin (he is), whispering, “just a day, baby. for me?” as if it’s not his lifelong mission to conquer your lock screen.

you scoff, bratty and unmoved. “you want me to advertise you on my phone? why don’t you get a billboard?”

“because,” he says, smug, “my wife’s wallpaper real estate is more valuable.”

you shouldn’t cave. you really shouldn’t cave. but then he kisses your cheek, trails down to your jaw, murmurs something sweet and stupid that melts your last nerve. you grumble about being weak for hot idiots, scroll through the absolute onslaught of selfies he sent, and pick the one where he’s grinning—smug, shirt slightly askew, and your lipstick still stamped on his jaw. it’s criminal how good he looks. you fight the urge to bite your lip and sigh like it’s the biggest burden of your life as you set it as your lock screen.

he gasps like he’s just been proposed to. dramatic hand to his heart, eyes glassy, voice warbling as he says, “i’m your lock screen. me. your husband. this is the greatest day of my life.” and then he traps you—physically. throws his whole weight over you on the couch like a human weighted blanket, peppering kisses across your face with alarming speed. “you can’t leave now,” he mumbles into your neck, “this is your new full-time job. cherishing me.”

you groan, swatting weakly at him, but it’s no use—he’s clinging like a damn koala, legs hooked around you, arms locked tight. “satoru,” you wheeze, “get off—” but he just shushes you, smug. “nope. consequences of loving me. should’ve picked the cherry blossom jpeg.”

and because he’s him, he spends the next hour being insufferable. changes your passcode to your wedding anniversary (“for security and romance”), and sets calendar reminders titled “admire husband” three times a day. “any attempt to change it will be met with a lockscreen tax,” he warns, grinning. “one kiss per pixel replaced. i will collect.”