"kiss Me."

Bakugou Katsuki, who absentmindedly starts touching you at random.

Like, you’ll be lounging on your bed, mindlessly scrolling through TikTok while Katsuki watches a game on TV, and suddenly, you feel his hands gently massaging your feet. And honestly, this man is incredible with his hands. (😉)

Or imagine this: you're standing in front of the mirror in your closet, calmly putting on your jewelry when he walks up from behind, already finished. His eyes lock onto yours, and before you know it, you feel his hands slide onto your hips. You smile as you feel him squeezing the softness of them, and jokingly push him back so you can grab your shoes. He still follows you around tho with his hands still firmly resting on your hips.

Or maybe you’re just lying on the couch with him, your head resting on his chest as you slowly drift off to sleep. You don’t remember when you fell asleep, but you wake up to the sound of Katsuki's phone as he scrolls through it, and the feeling of his hands gently cradling the back of your neck. His fingers slowly move upward, absentmindedly massaging your scalp and nape while he watches boxing matches.

Ugggghhhh, or what about when you’re cooking dinner for the two of you? You’re standing at the stove, switching between seasoning one pot and checking on another, when you hear Katsuki walk up behind you. He asks if you need help, but you shake your head and smile at him, reassuring him he can just relax. Instead of walking away, though, he sighs dramatically and leans his whole weight onto your back, his hands wrapping around your waist.

"Kats careful I'm gonna burn myself."

"My bad mama."

So, he leans back and rests his head on your shoulder, just watching you cook. His hands move up and down your arms, and whenever you shift to do something, he starts rubbing your side instead.

Katsuki has a degree in being touch-starved, and he doesn't even realise it. But you? You absolutely love it.

Katsuki doesn’t knock. He barges in.

It’s something you really don’t mind, though it’s also something that drives you up the wall because who knows what you could be doing on the other side of the wall, huh?

To which he rolls his eyes and grumbles out “I trust you enough to yell at me if you’re naked or hanging out with someone.”

Anyways.

Truly, you usually don’t mind when he barges in, but today, you’re fed up, you’re drained, you’re mad at the world and you’ve been locked alone for the past few hours, and the minute the door to your apartment swings open, you let out a snarl and glare at him from your sprawled position on the couch, the unwanted company walking himself in your home like he owns the place.

“Honey, I’m home,” he teases, kicking the door shut.

“Should’ve burned the building to the ground,” you growl, pulling the blankets higher on your shoulders. “You could’ve skipped a day to be the bane of my existence, you know.”

“Yeah, fuckin’ okay,” he chuckles. “I’ll skip a day when you do, babe.” He makes his way to the couch with a greasy bag in his hand, planting a soft kiss to your cheek and lifting your legs for him to scoot under.

“No offense,” you croak, not turning to look at him, “but why are you here?”

“You didn’t eat today,” he answers simply. “Didn’t like that, so I brought you food. What’re we watching?”

Your heart does pick up at the knowledge that he noticed (honestly, you even didn’t notice, you just thought you had a stomachache) but you refuse to give him the satisfaction. “There is no we, right now, Bakugou. I want to be alone.”

“‘Bakugou?’” He snickers, reaching into the bag, “oh. you’re sooo hangry. C’mere. Got your favorites.”

He reaches over to pull you up and next to him, and all you do is snap a quick “don’t touch me. And how did you know I didn’t eat today?” You don’t make any moves to actually stop him from pulling you up, and he takes it as a sign to keep going. He swings your legs over his lap, and you flash him a look that would kill him if they could.

“We spend every other fuckin’ waking minute together and you barely remember to eat, today you isolated yourself from the world and expect me to not know you didn’t? This ain’t my first day, dumbass.”

“Be your last if you don’t cut the shit.”

“Uh-huh,” he ignores, bringing a nugget to your lips. “Open.”

You blink lazily at him. He waits patiently.

“I don’t want a nugget.”

“I bought you a cheeseburger as well.”

“And you started with a nugget? The fuck you think this is?”

He laughs and drops the chicken in the bag, replacing it with a now unwrapped cheeseburger, small and processed looking, but the all too familiar smell makes your mouth water and your stomach growl. He brings it to your mouth again, but this time, you take a bite, forcing back the mewl of enjoyment that wants to slip past your lips.

“There’s my brat,” he says softly, resting his nose against your temple. “Fuckin’ hate when you pull shit like this, locking yourself away. Let me take care of your stupid ass.”

“I’m a grown ass adult,” you scold, muffled around the fast-food. “Can take care of myself.”

“But you don’t have to,” he says. “And you clearly were in a fucking mood today, and didn’t. So cut the shit and let me be there with you, idiot.”

His words, though firm, make your eyes water slightly, and you rest your head around his as you let him feed you the burger, your own hand pawing for fries every once in a while.

“You’re so whipped for me,” you say, breaking the silence.

“Watch your mouth,” he snaps. Then, he noses at your temple and soothes it with a kiss, “and I know you’d do the same for me… so… I got your back, babe.”

“Thank you, Katsuki,” you whisper, resting your head against his shoulder as he starts to bring the nuggets to your mouth.

“It’s fine,” he assures. Then, you hear his voice drop, “you ever call me Bakugou in anger again, I’ll shit on your bed.”

This, finally, makes you cackle aloud, mouth full of food and head tossing back against the couch. Even if you can’t see it, you know his own mouth is stretched in a smirk, the dynamics of your relationship finally starting to fall back into place.

inspired by this past-fandom post here 🧡

welcome back to frat boy, bf! katsuki, but you're taking a nap and you miss his calls for the first time...

k<3 :

u home yet??

2 missed calls – the loml<333

k<3 :

yo. you said you were leavin class 20 mins ago.

stopped somewhere?

4 missed calls – the loml <333

k<3 :

sweet girl. answer me

not fuckin playin

7 missed calls – the loml<333

k<3 :

i swear to fuck if ur phone died again im gonna duct tape a charger to ur bag

10 missed calls – the loml<333

k<3 :

come on

please

just text me

by the time the clock ticks past 10 minutes, katsuki’s spiraling.

he’s already speed-walked home from campus—snarled at kirishima when he offered to tag along, ignored denki yelling something about pizza—and practically slammed the front door open.

he checks every room with increasing panic.

kitchen? empty. bathroom? lights off. your shoes? by the door. your bag? slung carelessly on the couch.

his heart’s in his throat now. he storms to the bedroom and—there you are.

sprawled out across the bed in your favorite hoodie (his, of course), wrapped in a nest of blankets like some cozy little shit, hair a mess, cheek smushed into the pillow. dead to the world.

katsuki just stops in the doorway. halfway between furious and relieved. he exhales so hard it sounds like a curse, raking a hand through his hair. “fuckin’ hell, woman.”

he watches the slow rise and fall of your chest, the tiny puff of breath from your lips, the faint twitch of your fingers as you shift slightly, still completely out of it.

he pads over slowly and crouches beside the bed, bracing himself on the edge of the mattress. just watching you sleep like it’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen and the most infuriating thing he’s ever dealt with.

you don’t even stir.

“called you ten fuckin’ times,” he whispers, brushing your hair away from your face gently, thumb lingering at your temple. “had my heart about to claw outta my chest.”

he glares down at your peaceful expression. “you couldn’t send one goddamn text?”

you snore a little.

he huffs out a soft, involuntary laugh and leans forward to kiss your forehead, lingering there for a moment.

“stupid girl,” he murmurs, voice rough now—not angry, just overflowing with that messy blend of worry and love and the kind of fear he doesn’t even want to name.

“you scared the shit outta me,” he says, voice barely audible now.

he kicks off his shoes, strips down to his hoodie, and climbs into bed beside you, dragging you into his chest like he needs to feel your heartbeat under his palm.

and maybe he does.

he buries his face in your neck, breathes you in, and closes his eyes—like maybe if he holds you tight enough, you’ll never slip away without him noticing again.

“you ever ignore my calls again, i’m gonna kill you… then bring you back just to yell at you.”

it takes a minute for your senses to catch up. the first thing you register is warmth—a lot of it. the solid wall of heat behind you, the weight of an arm slung heavy around your waist, a hand gripping your thigh like it belongs there.

you blink awake slowly, the sunlight slicing through the curtains, warm and golden against your cheek. your mouth is dry. your head is foggy. your entire body feels like it sank into the mattress and refused to surface again.

you open your eyes fully, only to find katsuki awake. already looking at you. already scowling.

he’s lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, messy blonde hair sticking up in every direction. his eyes are sharp—wide-awake, unblinking, trained directly on your face.

“you almost died.”

you blink. “what?”

“you almost died,” he repeats flatly, voice low and grumpy. “that’s the only excuse i’ll accept.”

you shift slightly, throat dry. “what are you—?”

“my calls,” he snaps, cutting you off. “my texts. ten fuckin’ calls, sweets. not a single goddamn word.”

you glance over at your nightstand. your phone is there. fully charged. blinking with a whole list of missed notifications.

“oh my god.”

your brain stutters through memories. class had wiped you out. you’d come home, tossed your stuff down, meant to take a quick nap—and clearly crashed harder than you thought. hard enough to sleep through ten calls and a boyfriend having a full panic spiral.

you roll onto your back, face him, voice small. “i didn’t mean to worry you.”

he narrows his eyes. “you didn’t answer. you could’ve passed out, gotten jumped, gotten hit by a fuckin’ car for all i knew.”

your stomach turns with guilt. “i’m sorry…”

he exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face, frustration fading into something a little softer. “i came home ready to break the door down. thought i’d find you hurt or... i dunno... fuck.”

his voice breaks a little on that last word.

your chest aches. you sit up slowly, sliding into his lap and cupping his face with both hands. he doesn’t resist. just leans into you, his arms wrapping tight around your waist like he needs you right there, like it’s the most natural place for them to be.

“i just passed out,” you whisper. “like… sleep coma status.”

“you didn’t even flinch,” he mutters. “thought i was gonna have to check your pulse.”

you snort softly. “i was probably dreaming about you yelling at me.”

he squeezes your thigh, resting his forehead to your collarbone. “not funny. you’re not allowed to scare me like that again.”

you can feel his heart thudding against your chest—still fast, still a little shaken. you lean against him and whisper, voice quiet: “what happens if i do scare you again?”

he pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes. something soft settles in his expression. that sharp edge in his gaze dulls just a little—not gone, but mellowed, focused. it’s the look he only gives you, like you’re the only thing on the planet worth softening for.

he thinks for a second.

“first,” he says, tone completely serious. “i panic. obviously.”

you snort.

“then,” he continues, brushing a thumb along your jaw, “i break into your phone, make it so the ringtone screams your name at full volume. every time. forever.”

you giggle. “that’s horrifying.”

“i’m not done,” he deadpans. “next, i put a gps tracker in your backpack. and your keychain. and maybe your bra.”

you raise a brow. “my bra?”

“don’t question my methods, woman. i need intel.”

you laugh again, leaning fully into him, resting your head in the crook of his neck. he goes quiet. arms wrap tighter around you, firm and warm.

“maybe... i’d hold you like this,” he says, low and sure. “and not let go for a long time.”

you close your eyes as his hand slides up your back, smoothing slow circles into your spine. the rest of the world fades out, tucked away beneath the weight of his embrace and the soft beat of his heart against your cheek.

“and,” he adds, voice barely a whisper now, “i’d make sure you never forget how much you matter to me.”

your throat tightens a little. you bury your face deeper in his neck, smile trembling.

“okay,” you breathe.

“yeah?” he murmurs, holding you a little closer.

“yeah. i promise not to scare you again."

there’s a beat of silence. then—

“good,” he mutters. “’cause i might start showing up to your classes and shit.”

you snort into his shoulder, brushing your fingers through his messy hair. “i promise i’ll keep my phone on ring from now on.”

“you better,” he grumbles, then pauses. “swear to god, i aged five years in seconds.”

you smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “you’ll still be hot, even gray.”

he gives you a dry look. “tch. you’re lucky i love with you.”

you grin. “i know.”

his eyes narrow. “oh, do you now?”

and that’s when it happens—he pulls back just enough to stare at you, eyes narrowed, before reaching up and squishing your cheeks between both hands, mushing your lips into a pout.

“you have to say it back,” he barks, holding your face like a grumpy old man scolding a puppy, his thumbs digging into your squishy cheeks. “or i’ll keep doin’ this.”

you try to speak, but it just comes out as a muffled, “i lubb youuuu.”

he snorts, his grin slowly tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“i love you more, sweet girl,” he mutters, releasing your cheeks.

your lips are still puffed out from where he squished your cheeks, but he kisses them anyway—warm and slow and just a little too soft for someone who was grumbling about murder five minutes ago.

his palm stays on your jaw, thumb brushing lazily along your cheekbone, as if he’s still making sure you’re real. your cheeks are still tender from where he squished them, the warmth of his palm lingering.

you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head, and you let yourself melt a little further into him.

wrapped up in warmth and safety and the ridiculous, overprotective heart of the boy who loves you more than he knows what to do with.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ this happened to me last week and i missed the opportunity to buy what i want from mcdonalds 💔 (the minecraft toys here are ASS) hope you guys enjoyed, also how do i make them fuck any suggestions 👉👈

ae! we NEED to see forbes gojo’s reaction to his preggo wife relying on her pregnancy pillow for cuddles and he hasn’t gotten any in weeks 🤭🤭

(my) DADDY TO BE - gojo satoru.

unedited bc i'm currently brain dead from school. but i do think he'll have a much different response when he's really needy... but let's keep it somewhat PG for now heh

"No, no, no baby," your husband gently pries the pillow from you. "Use me, I'm here," he'll whisper while warming your face with soft kisses as he hushes your small whines from the discomfort of being very pregnant. He'll snuggle in to wrap you into his arms, placing his thigh between your legs for more comfort, lightly humming so you'll fall back asleep.

murmuring half awake while instinctively wrapping your arms around his waist, "This is all your fault, Satoru."

"Mhm," he whispered, smiling as he wrapped his arms tighter around you. "It's all my fault." He responds, softly chuckling as his hand sneaks through your shirt to rub against your back.

"but I'll forgive you because you're cute."

"Cute? Guess, I'll take that." Letting out a content sigh, taking in your scent, he can feel the fatigue of his past stressful week dissipate when his senses recognize that it's you — his home.

he's happy to be back in the arms of his lover whom he's been completely drained of for the past week — sexually painful, but always worth it, he concludes when the heat of your body radiates to his naked torso. "How about we throw away that stupid pillow so you can use your cute and sexy husband instead, yeah?"

"I promise I'll give you the best sleep you've ever had, princess."

"no, you won't let me sleep —"

Placing his large hand around your round belly, gently rubbing your skin to ease your tensed stomach, "Mommy is being naughty, booger." your husband's breath fanned over your cheeks, waking you up. "Now cover your ears booger, Daddy needs to tell Mommy a secret."

Peaking open your eyes, you're faced with his beautiful cerulean pairs watching you so tenderly while small droplets of water slowly stretch down his sternum and toned abdomen from his soft, white hair. (was he always this big? you dazedly wondered. he did say he exercised more due to his sexual frustrations while he was away)

"Because you should know that by now," his eyes scan your face, a smirk forming at the tip of his lips when he notices your eyes scanning his body. your husband can't help but naturally focus his gaze down to your lips and ultimately your plump breasts just ready to milk his future daughter.

"or else our little booger wouldn't be inside your belly now, would she?"

“do you think we’re soulmates?”

“i don’t believe in that shit.” katsuki’s hand tangles in your messy hair sprawled against the pillow he fought you over and ultimately gave to you with a small roll of his eyes.

you huff against his chest, frowning at his words. “you don’t think we were meant to be?”

“hell no.” he grins almost a little mockingly

“why not..?” you mutter, thankful your face is out of his sight because your disappointed expression is really quite laughable.

it’s silent for a long moment, and in the dark room, you assume he fell asleep. you sigh, cautiously readjusting your position to be more comfortable as you shut your eyes, ready to sleep.

that is until his hand drops from your hair onto your arm, rubbing small circles. “i don’t think i’m meant to be with anyone.” he whispers, staring up at his ceiling, still covered in glow in the dark stars from when he was a kid. “i think i just got lucky.”

you keep your eyes closed, half asleep as you respond immediately, “well, i don’t believe in luck. everything happens for a reason, suki.”

“that’s your prerogative, i guess.” he hums, his motions slowing down against your arm, resting there lazily.

“mm,” you wrap your arms around his torso, your cheek smushing against his chest.

another long moment passes, and katsuki’s still staring at the ceiling, lost in thought.

“you asleep?” he murmurs, careful not to wake you if you are.

“no, baby.”

he nods to himself, leaning down to plant a kiss on your head. “okay. i love you. thank you.” he whispers before resting back on his bed and shutting his eyes.

“thank you for what?” you reply, smiling softly at his affection.

he shrugs lightly before sleep takes over him, his arms engulfed around you without another word.

Umemiya is the guy who shows up with a potted plant at the first date.

He thinks bouquets are pretty and all but they die so fast - so he gifts you a whole plant. It comes with a cute pot (he hand painted the ceramics for you) and if you take good care of it, you will have it for years.

bakugou being a dad who’s completely smitten with his babygirl…. LORDDDDDDD GIMME STRENGTH

The afternoon was quiet, with the sun gently filtering through the window. You were sitting on the couch, with Bakugou lying face down on your legs, his head resting against your belly.

—This doesn't mean anything…— he murmured with his eyes closed as you absentmindedly played with his hair.

You smiled without saying anything, letting your fingers slide through his blonde locks. He growled lowly, but didn't move away, on the contrary, he seemed to settle better against you.

—Are you falling asleep? —You asked quietly.

—Shut up... it's just comfortable.

His tone was stubborn, but the slow pace of his breathing gave it away. His hand, which had previously rested at his side, moved to gently hold the fabric of your shirt, as if he was unintentionally seeking to make sure you were still there.

You continued to stroke his hair with a smile, and soon after, you felt his grip relax.

Bakugou had fallen asleep on your lap.

more dad!shouto content to cleanse my soul.

Truth be told, your 8-month-old son, Shuu, also loved hearing you monologue. He looked at you like you hung the moon and back, adoring you in the form of giggles and tiny screeches.

You sat on the couch with your legs thrown over the armrest, cradling a drowsy Shuu against your chest. He was in his favorite onesie—the one with tiny bears holding umbrellas—and he kept pawing at the necklace you always wore, his fingers clumsy but insistent. His head rested snugly beneath your chin, warm and soft, and every so often, he let out a quiet coo that melted your heart like butter on a stack of pancakes.

Todoroki was in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up, flipping pancakes like he was born to be domestic. Those cooking classes you encouraged him to take were finally paying off. The sun made his two-toned hair glow, and the sight of him wearing a pastel-pink apron with little strawberries on it—your favorite apron—shouldn’t have made your heart flutter, and yet here you were, contemplating the absurd luck of it all.

“…Mhm,” you hum to yourself, your voice light with disbelief. “I really did that.”

Shuu babbled as if agreeing with you, patting you collarbone with a tiny hand.

“Yes, baby. I mean, look at him,” you continued softly, speaking in that conversational tone one uses when there’s an audience of one infant. “He’s gorgeous. Objectively. Like—did you see those cheekbones? And the whole broody, mysterious hero thing? I bagged that. Me. Charisma? Carried. Humor? Came in clutch. This face? Okay, she helped, but bub, she needed backup.”

You gently kissed the top of Shuu’s fluffy head, then glanced toward the kitchen again, eyes trailing over the quiet, graceful way Todoroki moved. He plated the pancakes with care, added a few slices of fruit on the side, and dusted it with powdered sugar like he was on a cooking show.

Yummy.

The pancakes and your husband the fruits.

You could only blink.

“Your dad used to make girls stammer just by looking at them. Real stoic, jawline-of-the-gods, tragic past and all. And then here I come, tripping over my own shoes, telling jokes about haunted vending machines and crying over animated penguins in documentaries, and somehow—somehow—he looked at me like I was the most fascinating thing in the room.”

You adjusted Shuu slightly, mindful of his tiny head as it lolled sleepily against your shoulder. You pat his back softly, knowing once he burped, he’d be off to dreamland.

“I still remember our first proper date. I had spinach in my teeth the whole time, and he didn’t say a damn thing until the end of the night, and then just—‘You have something green in your teeth, but it was cute so I didn’t mention it.’ Who does that? Who says that?”

Oh, the horror of that memory.

Shuu blinked up at you, eyes slowly drifting closed.

“Your dad. That’s who,” you said with a half-laugh, booping his nose. “And I married him anyway. Because even when he says the weirdest stuff, he means it. He really means it.”

You rested your cheek against your baby’s head again, humming softly.

“You’ve got my eyes, you know,” you whispered. “And his pouty mouth—god help you. That pouty look on your face is going to let you get away with most things. I’m so sorry in advance, and you’re welcome—in a way.”

Todoroki chose that moment to walk over with two plates, setting one down on the coffee table and handing you the other. “Sorry I took a bit longer,” he said, glancing at the baby nestled in your arms. “Did he fall asleep?”

“Almost,” you replied with a warm smile, accepting the plate. “He likes hearing me monologue about how your genetics were blessed and how I saved our child from mediocrity with my superior charisma.”

Todoroki blinked at you.

“Is that what that was about?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t know,” you teased, lifting a forkful of pancake to your mouth. “You were towally into me from day one.”

“I was,” he admitted with zero hesitation, sitting beside you and stealing a bite from your plate—which made you quietly gasp, swatting at his arm softly. “You were very loud.”

“I was confident.”

“You called my scar mysterious and then compared it to a toasted marshmallow.”

...

“In my defense, it is very marshmallowy in vibe. And you know, I ran my mouth like crazy back then.”

Todoroki hummed noncommittally, then leaned in to brush a kiss against your temple. “You were funny,” he murmured. “Still are.”

You raised your brow.

“Were? You think the material’s gone downhill?”

“No,” he said with a faint smile. “I’m just used to it now. Doesn’t catch me off guard anymore.”

You gasped, scandalized, but Shuu made a tiny distressed noise at the sudden jostle, so you immediately shifted back into Mom Mode and soothed him with gentle rocking.

Todoroki watched you with the kind of adoration that made your heart skip a beat, and then, without needing to say anything, he took over—slipping his arms around Shuu and lifting him from your chest with all the care in the world.

“Come on, little guy,” he said softly, resting Shuu against his shoulder. “You’ve been glued to Mom all morning. Let’s give her a break.”

Shuu snuggled right in, immediately settling down. He even yawned, so cute and soft with his rounded cheeks—like a dumpling. You melted.

“Okay, yeah,” you murmured. “You’re still totally out of my league.”

Todoroki looked over his shoulder. “Good thing I chased you until you let me in your league.”

You let out a helpless little laugh, covering your face with your hands. “Ugh, you’re so smooth and pretty. Shuu, I hope you inherited my charm, because if you inherited both your Daddy’s looks and his mysterious aura, the world’s not ready.”

“I think he got the best of both of us,” Todoroki said simply, brushing a hand over Shuu’s soft hair.

And you couldn’t argue with that. Not when their little boy had now fallen asleep peacefully against the chest of a man who never once asked for perfection—only presence, only warmth. Somehow, your bad puns, big heart, and late-night rambles had been enough.

More than enough.

Yeah. You really did that.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

ᴘᴀɪɴᴛ & ᴘʀᴏᴍɪꜱᴇ

featuring: needy!gojosatoru, childhoodfriend!gojosatoru. precious. fluff!, minute jealousy synopsis: you put makeup on your childhood best friend. you learn that he is more than you anticipated. masterlist

you think you know everything about gojo satoru. you'd seen him as a child, two years younger than you, get scolded by his parents for sending a senile sorcerer to hospital. you were there when he first activated limitless and pummelled you accidentally in the face.

safe to say, nothing surprises you anymore. not even when he teleports into your room on the night of your date without even a knock and grabs you by the shoulders to turn you and your chair around.

"oi, stop that."

you strangle him off you. he only grins.

"sure thing." he shrugs, before bending down to inspect you more closely. "what have you got on your face?"

you put the bottle of setting spray down. "makeup."

he ruffles his tousled white hair, windblown. "ah? makeup. are you meeting someone?" he grins halfheartedly, scanning your room for any changes since you last met.

"i am."

"it's about time. i've already dated loads of people," he boasts, his eyes lingering on the powder and blush on the table.

you roll your eyes. "of course you have." you lay on the finishing touches to your face. you notice him watching.

rule one about gojo satoru, when he stares, he's interested. as you grew older, it became harder under those pitch black shades of his to detect where he's staring, but when he really wants something, it's obvious.

you lift a brush. "you want me to do makeup on you?"

he shakes his head.

rule two about satoru gojo, he never says what he's thinking.

you stand up, gesturing at the bed. "sit down." without a word, the boy listens to your command, ready to try something new.

you can't say you're unhappy to try doing makeup on him. you had some spare time left and that beautiful canvas of a face is nothing but to die for. putting makeup on him would be fun.

"i'll have to take off your glasses. may i?"

he sniffs.

rule three about gojo, he pretends to hate it when people ask to take his glasses off, but he secretly likes it. you know. it makes him feel seen, more human.

"do it yourself."

you nod.

taking his sunglasses off, you revel in the familiar ocean which faces you.

another two facts about satoru is that he can't keep still and he can't stop yapping. shaking his leg in tandem with the news from his mouth, the movement makes you shoot him a frustrated glare, distracted.

half to shut him up, the other half to make him pay attention, you grip his jaw in place. your eyes lock. soon enough, he'll probably look away to inspect some other object of interest; he's known you for years, after all. nothing new.

as you work, you think to yourself.

gojo... he's really grown up, hasn't he? in careful brushstrokes, you drag the eyeliner gently to form a wing with the tip of the pen. your eyes narrowed in concentration, you haven't noticed the shallow breath which tumbles from his mouth.

"pretty."

you blink.

gojo satoru scoots closer to you, so that his gorgeous azure eyes are inches from yours. they are widened in awe.

in all these years, you can count on one hand the number of times this genius has focused on anything longer than five-ten seconds. sure, going to jujutsu high has stretched that time out slightly, but it's nothing compared to this.

you know what rule one says about his behaviour, but you couldn't believe it.

he reaches up to brush the hair from your face. unblinking, unwavering, as though memorising everything, the outline of your nose to the singular dashes which form an eyelash, he stares at you.

it is the first step from a boy to a man.

"you are... really, really, pretty."

"says you," you say, almost pushing his hands away.

he sinks his fingers against yours, clasping them in a bone-tight grip.

"you are," he asserts. "how come i've never noticed?" he mutters, furious.

um. you turn to look the other way. the heat of his stare is scalding. nevertheless, the strongest refuses to back down.

"i should've noticed, shouldn't i? and now you're all dressed up with your make-up to meet some other guy." he pouts.

truth be told, you are silenced. this is not the gojo you recognise. in a swift move, he carries you from the vanity to the bed. the display of strength startles you.

"don't go," he whines into your shoulder, shifting you with his strong arms to nuzzle himself into your chest. you did so often when you were younger but-

"stay." he pauses, letting each syllable cascade from his beautiful lips like a bell, ringing crystal clear. "stay with me."

stay with him.

you think you know everything about gojo satoru. you remember the way he begged for a break amidst his pre-adolescent training sessions. you remember the empty hallways of the gojo estate and his silent footsteps, how they left him behind to carry the world on his shoulders.

awaiting your answer, gojo feels his heart beating out of his chest. what if you leave? what if you choose your date over him? what if-

"why?"

he stares up at you again. truly shameless.

"because i want you to." he turns stern. "or else, i'll tell your friend that you didn't actually have work that day you decided to ditch her little meet-up and i'll-"

out of nowhere, a laugh breaks out of you. he frowns.

but then, you press a soft kiss on his cheek, another one on the slope of his nose, which -truth be told- didn't need the contour you'd gracefully put on it, and the strongest sorcerer in the world relaxes to your touch.

moments like these, satoru still manages to surprise you.

"i'll stay."

"promise?" he holds up a pinkie.

"come on, satoru, we're not children anymore."

his eyebrows scrunch together so you finally relent.

"ok."

you link your pinkie to his.

"promise."

getting comfortable, you shoot a text at your friend to move the date to another day.

"i knew you'd stay. you can't stand when i throw a tantrum," he suddenly begins to mumble against your skin. your eyes widen. "i know you... better than anyone..." his eyelids are dragging under the weight of sleepiness.

perhaps you didn't know everything about satoru after all.

gojo opens his eyes, seeing you fully. "i know you can't stand me being alone."

perhaps he knew more about you than you had thought possible.

on second thoughts, you grab your phone from your bedside table, typing up a message you send without a second thought.

sorry. something came up. i might not be able to meet with you next week either. thank you for your patience, but i think i've found someone who i want to stick by forever.