Credits Artist @Ikarotsu

nerd!gojo who can’t get you out of his head. Not a minute passes by where he isn’t thinking of you. So imagine breaking his littke heart when he spots you swapping spit with some popular frat boy. He can’t help but feel jealous, even sad. It’s just a stupid crush, it’ll go away. Right? Wrong. Because the deal you two struck forces gojo to see you every few days for a tutoring session, where you hand over your chin work to him and he does it without hesitation like your little dog, only for you to jerk his cock and make him cum in return. Poor baby can’t help but imagine you doing the same to that jock. And he can’t help but grow curious the next time he sees you.

“Hey, um,” Gojo looks up from his desk, “who was that guy you were with earlier in the halls?” He blinked, watching at the way you typed away on your phone, your acrylics clacking against the screen, obnoxiously chewing on your gum with glossed lips.

“Hm?” You furrow your brows. “Oh! You mean that stupid jock frat boy Toji?” You sit up. “Don’t worry about him.”

“Is he…your boyfriend? I saw you two kissing…it’d be kinda weird if he was your boyfriend…you know—because—”

“Such a perv! Are you spying on me now?!” You scoff.

“No! No! I wasn’t! I’m not!” Gojo furiously shook his head. “I was…curious.” You carefully walk over towards Gojo, a soft smirk on your pretty face while you blew your gum into the shape of a bubble. “Sorry,” he muttered, feeling embarrassed, stupid for even asking.

“Are you mad? Mad that I was kissing someone else?” You giggle. “I only use that idiot to get into all the school parties.” He slowly turned his head to look at you.

“But do you—”

“Do I what? Jerk him off like I do with you?” You almost laugh at the idea. No way in hell. “I’ve only sent the desperate loser nudes to get off to. But you’re special, Toru.” You push his chair slightly away from his desk that way you could straddle yourself on top of him. “You’re so much more smarter than him. So much more handsome. And you do everything I say just like the good boy you are.” Your tone is soft and sultry, just enough for Gojo to melt right into your hands. He could feel the heat creep up to his cheeks, face flushed red and throat dry as you rock your hips against his slightly. “I get it now. You were jealous, huh?” You coo. “It’s okay, you can tell me.”

Gojo opens his mouth, breathing shakily, hesitating to answer. “Y-yes,” he quietly says, nodding.

A smile creeps up on your face as you get an idea. “Toru, have you ever ate pussy before?” His eyes immediately go wide, breaking eye contact with you as he looks anywhere around his dorm. “I’ll take that as a no,” you giggle. “How about we change up your reward today, hm? You get to eat me out, yeah?” Gojo sheepishly nods, shaky hands pushing his glasses back up his nose.

Minutes later, he has you sprawled out on his bed, his pretty face buried deep in your cunt as he messily eats you out, sucking, licking, slurping all over your clit and folds. His teary eyes stare up at you, addicted to the way you smile down at him and run your fingers through his soft, pillowy white hair, holding his head down. “A little more up—ah, yes, yes, right there—mmmm.” You bite down on your bottom lip, surprised at how much of a fast learner he is. In all reality, you shouldn’t be. He’s a nerd. “You like the way my pussy tastes, don’t you?” You moan softly.

Gojo nods without hesitation, his hands holding your thighs apart as he runs his tongue up and down slit before circling it over your sensitive clit. He can your juices running down his and chin and god, he’s intoxicated by your taste. Everything about you just has him wanting more and more. “You look so cute looking up at me over your glasses,” you sweetly say. “Makes me even more wet.” Gojo is trying his hardest to cum in his pants right now, but you make it so damn hard.

He lifts his head to catch air, licking your juices off of his lips. “Am I doing a good job?” He asks, bashfully.

“Mhm, it’s like you’re a natural.” You cup his face, running your thumb over his cheek. Either he’s a natural or maybe he’s just so desperate to eat your pussy that he’s doing a surprisingly good job. Whichever it was, Gojo didn’t care enough to dwell on it especially when you’re pushing his head back down. Your phone began to ring, you picked up within a few seconds. “Heyyy.” You smiled. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be down in a few minutes—mmph! What? No, I didn’t moan you pervert! Ugh, fuck you Toji, I just need to finish my tutoring session remember?” You roll your eyes.

Gojo could feel the jealously in his chest stir again. How could you make him feel so special and so casted out at the same time. But it only fueled the want to make you cum harder. He could see you were struggling to breathe normally, trying to hold your moans in. “See you in a few. Bye!” You quickly hung up, tossing your phone aside. “Fuck! What’s gotten into—oh, fuck! Ah, mmph! Yes, yes, yes, I’m gonna cum!” You grip onto his hair, rocking your hips against his face as you came undone, lewd moans and gasps filling the room.

Gojo sat up, staring at you, his glasses slightly fogged. “Did it feel good?”

“First time eating pussy and you already made me cum? I’m shocked, honestly,” You say, slipping on your panties and pulling down your skirt. “Thanks for the orgasm, sweets, but I really gotta go. Mwah!” You blew a kiss at him, snatching your phone off of his bed.

“Going to see Toji?” He couldn’t help himself.

“Ugh, Gojo stop getting all possessive and jealous. We’re not a thing. See you in a few days for the next assignment.” You rolled your eyes, tapping away on your phone.

"Oh...okay, sorry—" you walked out his dorm room, slamming the door. And once again, he was left there completely entangled with his thoughts and feelings. None of them good.

❝𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝❞

Royalty AU || Crown Prince Megumi x Reader

"Either way, you weren’t supposed to catch the eye of the Crown Prince. But you did — not because you tried to impress him, but because you didn’t."

wc: 2.1k warnings: none :)

part 2

The capital was alive tonight.

Festival banners flapped from balcony rails and rooftop chimneys, catching on the breeze like ribbons loosed from a dancer’s hair. Lanterns painted the cobblestone roads in soft orange, fluttering shadows of people moving together, laughter spilling into the humid air. Merchants sang out their prices with theatrical flair, children darted through alleys with sweet-stained mouths, and musicians strummed wild, joyful notes like the world might end tomorrow.

You were halfway through a skewer of grilled eel when the drums began to roll.

“Must be the opening ceremony,” someone murmured beside you, eyes turned toward the main pavilion at the center of the square. You followed their gaze only briefly, already familiar with the routine — the arrival of the royal family, the crown prince's cold, obligatory speech, the nobles parading their newest silks.

You wiped your hand on your sleeve and turned away before the first horn blew.

It wasn’t that you disliked the royal family. You just didn’t care for the spectacle — for the desperation in the way people craned their necks, trying to catch a glimpse of the gilded puppets who ruled the realm from their marble towers.

You weren’t here for the crown.

You were here for the chaos. The color. The sense that, for one night a year, everything felt real.

Which was why you didn’t notice him at first.

You were leaning against a stone wall, drink in hand, watching a group of fire dancers carve patterns into the night sky. The scent of charred cinnamon and plum wine hung in the air, dizzying. Around you, the crowd stirred and shifted. Whispers rippled out from the direction of the royal carriage — excitement, reverence, awe.

And then the hush.

The kind that falls when something sacred enters a room.

You didn’t bow. You didn’t crane your neck like the rest. You simply turned your head and looked.

And that’s when it happened.

Your eyes met his.

Crown Prince Megumi Fushiguro stood a few meters away, half-shadowed by the guards at his side and the height of the ceremonial platform. He was dressed in deep navy and obsidian black, a sharp contrast to the lanternlight glow that softened everyone else. His hair was pulled back, silver threading the edge of his collar, and a ceremonial sword rested at his hip.

He looked like something carved from dusk.

He was already scanning the crowd — out of duty, you guessed. The kind of passive observation someone in power did automatically. But when his gaze passed over you, it stopped.

Not paused.

Stopped.

And held.

You blinked, surprised. Not by the fact that he was looking — but by the way it felt.

Not hungry. Not judgmental. Just… curious. As if he were trying to figure out what exactly it was about you that didn’t match the room.

Your heart knocked once, uncertain.

You didn’t bow. You didn’t look away. You simply raised one brow in return — a small, almost amused expression. Not mocking. Just present. Undaunted.

You weren’t supposed to catch the eye of the Crown Prince. You weren’t a noble. You weren’t dressed in silk or painted in powdered makeup. You weren’t fawning or smiling or trying to be noticed.

But you had his attention.

And you knew better than to show it affected you.

So you turned away first.

You didn’t expect anything to come of it.

The festival carried on. The dancers performed. You wandered through back alleys and vendor stalls, slipping through the thick of the crowd without ceremony or fanfare.

But hours later — long after the sky turned navy and the music dulled — you returned home and found something odd.

Tucked just inside your windowsill was a piece of folded parchment, weighted down by a small violet.

You stared at it for a long moment.

You hadn’t left the window open. No one had access to your home. You lived in the upper floor of a bookshop, above the creaking floors and scent of aged paper, and the only one who knew your habits was the shopkeeper’s cat.

You unfolded the paper slowly.

Neat handwriting. Sharp strokes. Precise lettering.

"You didn’t say much, you didn’t need to. That’s what I liked about you."

No name. No title. Just that.

And the flower.

Your throat tightened. You didn’t want to believe it — but deep down, you already knew. You remembered that stare. The weight of it. The way his eyes had followed you not like a predator, but like a question.

You turned the note over.

Blank.

You reread it once. Twice.

Then you tucked it away in a drawer and told yourself it meant nothing.

But of course, the world wasn’t kind enough to let it go.

Because three days later, you saw him again.

You were crossing the narrow bridge near the west gardens, a shortcut to the shop. The early morning mist still clung to the stone, curling around your boots like smoke.

You didn’t expect to see anyone there.

So when the figure appeared from the other side, you froze.

He wasn’t dressed like a prince this time.

No crown. No royal colors. Just simple dark fabric, travel-worn boots, and gloves tucked into his belt. But you knew. The way he walked — steady, upright. The way he carried himself like someone who bore weight on his shoulders no one else could see.

Megumi Fushiguro.

You stopped at the center of the bridge.

So did he.

A silence stretched between you.

Then.

“You didn’t bow,” he said.

It wasn’t a reprimand. Just an observation.

You lifted a brow, mirroring the expression he’d given you days earlier. “I didn’t know I was supposed to.”

His mouth twitched. The smallest shadow of amusement.

“I wasn’t expecting you to remember me,” you added, tone light.

“I wasn’t expecting to notice you,” he replied evenly. “But I did.”

The air between you stilled.

You swallowed. “Is that why I found a flower on my windowsill?”

“I don’t leave flowers for just anyone.”

There was something quiet in his voice. Not flirtation — no, he didn’t seem the type for that. It was something else. Something real. Unadorned.

You stepped closer, just slightly, until only a few feet separated you. The mist curled higher.

“Why?” you asked.

“Why the flower?”

“No. Why me?”

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze dipped, just once, to your hands — ink-stained from morning deliveries, fingers curled loosely against the chill.

Then he looked up again.

“You didn’t try,” he said.

You frowned.

“You weren’t trying to be seen,” he clarified. “You didn’t perform. You didn’t pretend. You just... were. In a world full of people shouting to be noticed, you were quiet. And you meant it.”

Your heart stuttered.

No one had ever spoken to you like that before.

And certainly not him.

The Crown Prince.

You don’t know what possessed you to do it — boldness, madness, maybe the intoxication of being seen — but you smiled. Just faintly. The way a person smiles when they finally stop holding their breath.

“You shouldn't be out here alone,” you said softly.

“And you shouldn’t talk to me like we’re equals.”

“Are we not?”

That earned you the smallest crack in his composure — a breath of a laugh, hushed and tired and real.

“Careful,” he murmured. “People lose their heads for less.”

“I’ve already lost mine,” you said. “Might as well use what’s left of it to say something honest.”

His eyes lingered on you.

Like he was memorizing something he shouldn’t want to keep.

Then, with a quiet exhale, he took one step back.

“This bridge doesn’t exist tomorrow,” he said, voice lower now. “Not officially.”

“Is that so?”

He nodded. “But if it did, I might be passing it again. Just before dawn.”

You didn’t speak.

But when he walked past you, his sleeve brushed yours.

And it was the softest thing you’d ever felt.

The songs you grow to like never stick at first (Chapter 5)

Chapter 1 ++ Chapter 2 ++ Chapter 3 ++ Chapter 4

Falling for your best friend is a blessing and a curse at the same time, especially when it’s painfully obvious that your friend doesn’t feel the same. So what is Yuuji supposed to do? He doesn’t want to lose you but also can’t help wanting to get out of the friendzone. Maybe his other friends can help him. Or he just has to wait because sometimes the songs that become our all-time favorites are the ones that don’t stick at first.

Pairing: Yuuji x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, fluff, my attempt at humor, friends to lovers Word Count: 3.5k Playlist: College AU Warnings: 18+, slow burn, a lot of cheesiness, pining, unrequited love in the beginning, alcohol, masturbation, sex dreams. Cheating (but NOT Yuuji or reader!! Naoya cheats on reader). All characters are of age. The story and my blog contain 18+ content, so minors don't interact. 

Chapter 05: A rivalry goes so deep between me and this loss of sleep over you (Part 2)

The weeks pass. You are in romantic heaven with your boyfriend. And Yuuji is in heartbreak hell, with dark circles under his eyes and the emotional baggage of the frontman of an emo band.

He's officially a member of the boxing club now, spending more and more time at the gym to let his anger out on the punching bag that he calls Naoya in his mind.

You keep telling Yuuji about your dates with the Zenin heir, oblivious to the pain it causes him. He has to put a stop to it though the moment you start talking about your and Naoya's sex life.

"Can you please not?!! I don't want to know these things!"

"Hey, that's not fair! You tell me everything about your bedroom adventures too, Mr. Too much information."

Yuuji throws up his hands in exasperation. He knows you are right. Unfortunately, he seems to lack that gene that is responsible for feeling ashamed, so he always goes into too much detail anytime he shares his sex tales with his friends. Guilty as charged.

"Ah, dammit! But that was ages ago!! I haven't even had sex in months!"

"And maybe that's the problem! You need to get laid, Yuu!"

You have a point. But the problem is that the only person Yuuji wants to get sexy with is you. But, of course, he can't say that, so he just makes an incomprehensible noise and changes the topic.

He is relieved when a few weeks later, you pull a face while stirring your iced coffee listlessly, sighing as you rest your chin on your hand and announce:

"Naoya has to go on a business trip. He's leaving in an hour, and I already miss him. Those gonna be the worst three days!"

No, that's wrong! Those are going to be the best three days if you ask Yuuji!

He feels energetic despite his lack of sleep and the physical exertion from last night's boxing training. This is great! The sun shines brighter all of a sudden, and his coffee hasn't tasted this good in months!

Yuuji can't help but smile while walking next to you, accompanying you to your first class of the day, just like he does every morning. There's a new spring in his step now that some of the weight got lifted off his shoulders.

An hour later, when he's sitting in acting class, waiting for his turn to portray a Yakuza leader, the guilt catches up with him. He shouldn't feel happy about your annoyance that your boyfriend is away. He's a horrible friend!! How can he smile and celebrate the fact that you miss the guy you are in love with??

Yuuji is on the brink of punching himself and only gets saved from making an absolute fool of himself because his name gets called for the next performance.

Half an hour later, he walks out of class with loud praise from his professor.

"Itadori, that was an outstanding performance. I could practically feel the anger! You really got into the role! Keep up the good work."

Hysterical laughter bubbles up in Yuuji's chest. It seems like method acting is his way to a possible movie star career, huh? He will have to mention Nayoa in his thank-you speech when he receives an Oscar.

He can't stop laughing all the way to the cafeteria, earning himself raised eyebrows and giggles. Yuuji just rolls his eyes when he realizes it and lifts his left hand to show some of the guys from the volleyball team his middle finger.

He doesn't have time for this. He has to find you and make sure to make the best of the next three days, where he can have you all to himself again! And after all, he is your best friend, and it's literally his job to keep you company and keep you busy, so you won't wallow in self-pity and lose your mind over longing for your man all the time. Yuuji's motives are totally pure!!

Another chuckle escapes his mouth. The mix of lack of sleep and giddy anticipation to take you to the mall and eat ice cream with you is gradually turning him into a lunatic. But Yuuji can't be bothered at the moment. He bursts into the cafeteria with a bright sunshine smile and an excited:

"Finish your tea, princess! I'm taking you to the mall!"

And the loud laugh and happy sparkle in your eyes he receives in return are even more reasons to be a bit crazy.

Three nights later, Yuuji jolts up when his phone blares loudly on the pillow next to his ear. He groans. For once, he fell asleep early. The lack of sleep finally got the better of him, and he felt so at ease after having you all to himself for three days that sweet sleep claimed him.

He was even having a particularly nice dream of you straddling his lap, your hands in his hair, while you were slowly riding him, moaning his name and whispering sweet love confessions in his ear. It was the perfect wet dream!

Until his stupid phone ruined it!

Yuuji sits up and looks around groggily. His brain is too fuzzy, but his hand finds his phone and lifts it to look at the screen. His eyes widen.

Why are you calling him at 00:13?

"Hey! What's up? Are you ok?"

Your voice sounds strange, when you answer him:

"Yuu... Are... are you up?"

Yuuji is completely alert in an instant, the sleepy confusion and the horniness gone completely. Something happened! He can hear it in your voice! Worry washes over him.

"What's wrong? Where are you?"

Yuuji's already out of bed while speaking, balancing the phone between his shoulder and cheek as he's jumping into his grey sweatpants. He has to go wherever you are! He can tell that you aren't ok, even when you didn't say it yet. You need him!

"I.. can you.. can you please come pick me up?"

"Of course! Already on my way. Tell me where you are!"

He only hears a shaky sob, and it makes his heart drop. You sound like you are crying. Yuuji is scared. Cold fear has its chokehold on him. What happened to you? He has to get to you right now!

He's stumbling over his backpack, cursing loudly, before finding his shirt from yesterday lying on the floor next to his desk. He shrugs hastily into it while listening to your thick voice giving him instructions:

"I'm downtown... you know that street corner near our McDonald's and the karaoke bar?"

Fuck. So you were with Naoya tonight? His apartment is near that location. Yuuji's worry is laced with anger now. What did that asshole do to make you cry and call Yuuji in the middle of the night? And why the hell are you out there all alone? That's dangerous! It's the middle of the night!

"I'll be there in a few minutes! Don't hang up, ok? Stay on the phone with me."

He puts the call on speaker so he can pull his red hoodie over his head, not caring how messy his hair is or that he puts on two different colored socks. All that Yuuji can think about is you!

He quickly jogs out of his room, grabbing the car keys on his way out, and almost falls down the stairs because he's struggling to put on his sneakers while running and also holding his phone in one hand.

But he manages to arrive on the street in one piece and sprints over to his car. Well, technically it's Fushiguro's car. But he lets his friends use it too because he's embarrassed about being the kid from the rich family and feels better about it if he shares his privileges.

Yuuji throws his phone into the center console as he slams the door shut and then hastily starts the car. The car audio starts blaring loudly, making him jump.

This is side one, flip me over. I know I'm not your favorite record. The songs you grow to like never stick at first. So, I'm writing you a chorus, and here is your verse!

"Oh dammit! Not that song again!"

Junpei must have used the car before him. Yuuji swears and turns the stereo off as he quickly backs out of the parking spot. He knows he's driving too fast, but he can't bring himself to care. He has to get to you as quickly as possible!

You were probably right when you joked about Yuuji being your personal knight in a red hoodie. He is so worried and just wants to be by your side and make sure you are safe. He can still hear your sniffles, and it tugs at his heart.

"I'm driving now. Hey, can you tell me what happened?"

"I... I wanted to surprise Naoya. It was stupid... I don't know. He texted me that he's back from his business trip and that he'll just go to bed and we should meet for breakfast...but I... god, I am so dumb! I thought, hey, why not pay him a surprise visit to celebrate him coming back home...I.. arrived in front of his apartment and I..."

Your explanation gets interrupted by a muffled sob. Yuuji grinds his teeth, his hands are grabbing the steering wheel in a death grip. But he tries to sound calm for you, be the safe place you need right now.

"It's ok, take your time. I'm almost there. What happened at his apartment?"

It starts raining now, and the cars in front of him slow down, making Yuuji almost lose his mind. He glares at the red light that dares to keep him away from you. It's torturous having to listen to your tearful voice telling him about your night while he is caught in the car here and not able to pull you into his arms and comfort you.

The engine howls loudly once the traffic light turns green again and Yuuji presses down on the gas pedal impatiently. Only a few more blocks!

Your voice fills the car and there's so much pain in it that it makes Yuuji's own eyes tear up.

"Naoya.. he was walking out of the door with some other woman. I... I thought maybe it was just his co-worker and nothing more. But.. but.. they kissed."

"Oh fuck!"

"He... he held her hand and smiled at her, and then he kissed her. Like a real kiss! On the mouth...and it... It was just like he.. just like he usually kisses me. I don't know what to do. I ran away before he could see me. And now I'm sitting here and crying and being a dumb bitch!"

Yuuji smacks his hand onto the steering wheel. God, if Naoya was here right now, he would get a taste of Yuuji's fist. Yuuji hates that guy! Really hates him! How can he hurt you like that? Doesn't he see how lucky he is to have you!? How can he cheat on you?

"He's such an asshole! God! Please, you aren't dumb! HE is the one who's the dumb bitch!"

Yuuji has almost reached your destination now. He spots a parking space and quickly pulls the car over, almost scratching against a tree. But it doesn't matter. Nothing matters except you! He's out of the car at light speed, jogging down the rainy street to the corner where he knows you are waiting for him.

He almost stumbles over your outstretched legs as he turns into the dark side street. You are sitting on the stairs in front of a tea shop, looking up at him with tears running down your face, looking so heartbroken and miserable.

Yuuji crouches down in front of you, placing his hands on your knees, gently rubbing them. His voice is soft and warm, talking to you like he would to a scared animal. His need to comfort you and soothe your hurt is almost overwhelming.

"Hey, I'm here. It's gonna be ok. I got you, sweetheart."

He can feel you trembling beneath his hands, from the cold or the anxiety or a mix of both.

"Yuu..."

Your voice sounds so weak. That's enough! Yuuji can't take it anymore. He reaches out with a murmured:

"Come here.."

He pulls you into his strong arms, feeling you slump against him. You sniffle and press your face against his chest as your arms wrap around him, clinging desperately to him.

Yuuji rocks you in his arms, whispering some stupid little things to you, anything to comfort you and reassure you.

"Shh, it's ok, sweetie... it's ok. You can cry if it helps you, ok? I'm here. I won't leave. I'll look after you."

It breaks Yuuji's heart to see you like this, your tears soaking his hoodie, sobbing against his chest and your fingers clutching tightly to his back.

He feels a bit helpless, not really knowing what to do, so he just does what his instincts tell him. Holding you and letting you cry, stroking your back soothingly, and keeping you tugged safely under his chin, pressed tightly against his broad chest, wrapped in his strong arms where you are safe and hopefully a bit warmer.

After a while, Yuuji feels you relaxing in his arms. Then, finally, you lift your head to look at him with puffy eyes.

"Th.. thank you for coming here. I'm so sorry for waking you up, Yuu."

"Of course, I came here. Please don't apologize. I told you I'll always pick you up, no matter where you are or what time it is. There is nothing to be sorry for."

His eyes scan you worriedly. Of course, he has seen you having breakdowns over university or when you had trouble with some girls from your dorm. But it was never anything like this. Yuuji has never seen you crying so much, and it pains him to know you are so distraught.

"Let's get you home, ok?"

You blink at him through wet lashes and nod softly. Yuuji gives you an encouraging smile and then pulls you to your feet. He cannot let go of you, though. He definitely spoke the truth when he said that he's overprotective when it comes to you. And so one of his large hands stays on the small of your back.

He sees you shivering, looking so miserable that it breaks his heart even more. Yuuji realizes that you are drenched from the rain. He doesn't even think about it but is already pulling his red hoodie over his head and handing it to you.

"Here, put that on, please. Don't want you to catch a cold."

You don't even try to turn his offer down, which means you are really a mess right now. Yuuji's chest feels too tight. He puts an arm around you and pulls you against his side to offer you more of his warmth as he gently steers you towards where he parked Fushiguro's car.

On the drive home, Yuuji can't stop himself from looking over at you repeatedly to check on you. You're leaning your head against the cold car window, staring out into the rainy night, looking so lost, hugging yourself and sniffling occasionally.

It's a heartbreaking sight, and Yuuji's need to comfort you almost drives him crazy. It pains him to see you like this! You deserve happiness and love, and warmth. Not this shit! Soaked to the skin, shivering from the cold, and crying from a broken heart.

Yuuji reaches out to put a hand on your thigh, right above your knee, gently squeezing it. He hates that he has to drive and can't hug you and keep you warm. But he has to get you home safely and make sure to get you into dry clothes as soon as possible. So his hand on your thigh will have to do at the moment. At least a little bit of physical comfort.

Your hand lands on top of Yuuji's immediately, grabbing it tightly, so desperate for his comforting touch. The car swerves slightly to the right as Yuuji's other hand clenches the wheel. He's angry, so fucking angry at Naoya for doing this to you!

But his need to be there for you and make you feel ok again is stronger than the anger. You don't need anger at the moment. You need your best friend who treats you with love and care. And so Yuuji turns his hand on your thigh so you can interlace your fingers with his, holding hands for real now.

You hold on so tightly that it's almost painful, even to a strong guy like Yuuji. But he definitely won't complain. You need this, need to hold his hand, need the comfort of your best friend next to you, and Yuuji will give you anything you need.

You drive in silence for a few minutes, just holding hands and waiting for the car heater to work.

But Yuuji knows that one of his biggest flaws is that he cannot seem to shut up and often talks before he thinks, so he isn't surprised when his mouth decides to blurt out:

"Do you want me to beat him up for you?"

"Oh my god, Yuuji! Please don't!"

"Ok, anything you want. But my offer stands if you change your mind. He would deserve it. And my right hook is really good, says my coach."

"Maybe he would deserve it, but I don't want you to get into trouble. So please promise me you won't try anything like that."

But at least you sound a bit more like yourself again, and your voice isn't as weak anymore. The corners of Yuuji's lips lift in a half-smile, and he gives your hand a reassuring, gentle squeeze.

"I won't, I promise. Let's get you home and into dry clothes. And then we'll eat ice cream and watch a movie. That's probably a better way to deal with this than going all violent, huh?"

"Thank you, Yuuji. Like, really. I am so grateful for you. When I was sitting there crying, all I could think of was, "I want Yuu here, with his broad shoulders and bright smile." You always make me feel so safe and... I sound so stupid, but you feel like home away from home. You know what I mean?"

Yuuji has to gulp hard against a lump forming in his throat all of a sudden. He feels like home to you? This is the most beautiful thing anyone ever said to him. He blinks rapidly against the sudden moistness in his eyes.

"It's nothing. I'm always here for you. Will always be. And you are my home too."

The rain is getting heavier again, drumming loudly onto the car top while the windshield wipers are doing their hypnotic dance across the car window. The street leading out of the city is pretty empty at this time of night, so the drive home is pretty serene, only the darkness of the night and the pouring rain illuminated by the car's headlights.

Usually, Yuuji is a sunshine type of guy. He loves summer and the sun and never complains about the heat. But he has to admit that there is some beauty in the rain too, especially when you are sitting in a car at night with the person you love the most in the world and they are holding your hand and visibly and audibly relaxing after having such a tough breakdown, and it's all because Yuuji is here to offer his comfort.

You have almost reached the campus again when Yuuji speaks up again, voice soft and low:

"Hey, just let me tell you this, ok? Please don't get mad. But I think you should break up with him. I know he will call you and make all kinds of excuses, and I know you are a sweet and forgiving person, but please don't listen to him. Don't go back to him, please. He's an asshole. You deserve so much better. You deserve someone who only likes you, someone who doesn't want anyone else. Someone who will never hurt you."

Someone like me.

Your answer is another squeeze of his hand and a soft:

"You are right, Yuu. Zenin Naoya is history."

You sigh and reach over to turn the car audio on, and Junpei's emo mix starts playing again. 

This is side one, flip me over. I know I'm not your favorite record.

Yuuji loses it and snickers. Why is it always this damn song? He feels like you caught him doing something naughty, listening to Fall Out Boy and screaming along to lyrics that somehow fit his personal situation all too perfectly. It sends him into hysterics, and now he really laughs like a lunatic.

But to his enormous relief, he hears a chuckle coming from the passenger seat. And then your hand is on the car audio again, and you turn up the volume and tap your finger onto the dashboard to the beat of the song.

It's the next song that makes the two of you break out into loud laughter.

Let's play this game called "when you catch fire, I wouldn't piss to put you out." Stop burning bridges and drive off of them. So I can forget about you. 

Yuuji can hear that you are crying through the laughter. Of course, you are still sad, and it will take a while for you to get over Naoya. But it's ok. Yuuji's here to dry those tears, and he will be by your side and help you make that broken heart whole again.

And at least you already have an "I hate Zenin Naoya" anthem now.

Thank you so much to everyone who keeps looking forward to a new chapter of this series! It makes me so happy when I get feedback on this story! So, Yuuji is really the perfect knight in a red hoodie, hm? For me, the answer is YES! He is so sweet. Everyone should have a Yuuji in their lives aww.

Please let me know how you liked the chapter! Comments and reblogs help me a lot!

Only one chapter left now aaaaahhhhh!!!

I added a second FOB song, "Tell that Mick he just made my list of things to do today," aka the "I hate Zenin Naoya" anthem lmaoo.

Chapter 06

ai does not belong in creative spaces. period.

All Mine｡°✩ Bakugou Katsuki

Masterlist ୨ৎ

is it normal for a tinder hookup to invite you to his birthday party? only one way to find out.

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Glitter 𐔌 𐦯 : happy birthday Katsuki!! you guys voted for this on the poll (Sorry if you were expecting smut... but I cringe at myself attempting to write it so suggestive is all you get), enjoy!

Warnings : VERY SUGGESTIVNESS so minors beware (nothing explict but still), Female!Reader, modernAU, aged-up, drinking, mention of drugs, classic Bakugou warnings

W/C : 3k

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[10:37 PM] B: you got plans tmrw

B is Bakugou Katsuki. The guy you've been enjoying lately. To say the least.

You met in the classic way—late-night Tinder, you feeling lonely and a little reckless. He had only one picture—a sharp jawline, messy blond hair, and not much else to go off. But he looked good. Really good. So, feeling lucky, you swiped right.

Match. Instantly.

He messaged first. You messaged back. Five minutes later, you were making plans to meet at a bar downtown. All you could hope for was that he wasn’t a catfish, and that getting dressed up wouldn’t be for nothing.

It definitely wasn’t.

You barely spent time at the bar. Most of the night was spent tangled up at your place. And that’s kind of how it went from there—he’d text, you’d text back. He’d come over, he’d leave. That was the thing. Sometimes you’d text first—on the nights you were feeling extra needy, craving hot hands and hungry lips.

You didn’t even know much about him. Just his name, his major, and the sounds he makes when he’s close. You didn’t think of him as much else. Didn’t let your mind drift into soft little daydreams about who he might be outside of your bedroom. What he was like with friends, what music he listened to, what kind of kid he was in high school.

Because Bakugou Katsuki didn’t seem like that kinda guy. There was nothing lovey-dovey about him. Just low curses and hard thrusts. 

So this message? Felt different.

For one—you never made plans. That wasn’t how this thing worked.Just heat-of-the-moment, spur-of-the-night kind of energy.

And two—it wasn’t even his usual type of text. He didn’t ask. He told. Normally, it was a blunt little “im comin over”—not a question, but something close to a courtesy. A way of saying: I’m giving you the out, if you want it.

You scroll back at your texts these past few months and see the same pattern over and over, this one sticking out like a sore thumb from the rest. 

[10:40 PM] You : idk. 

[10:40 PM] You : why

Does he notice the difference, too? The pause in your rhythm. The hesitation. Why does it matter if he does?

[10:42 PM] B : im having a party tmrw

[10:42 PM] B : or my flatmate is 

[10:42 PM] B : u should come

You stare at the screen for a second, not sure if you’re more confused or just… surprised. Not that it matters.

The read receipt doesn’t faze him. He doesn’t even wait for a response. Just sends the address, followed by a quick “starts at 7. let me know if ur coming and il order an uber.”

You don’t reply.

You don’t reply, because this isn’t part of the unspoken deal that you are familiar with. And maybe he just wants a pretty girl to stand near the drinks, someone to make the party pictures look good. Because Bakugou Katsuki is probably nothing more than an asshole. Probably. 

~~~

Maybe curiosity really does kill the cat. Because somehow, you decide to go.

You never reply to him, leave him to conclude that the silence means no, you idiot, I only want you for one thing. But against your better judgement, you pull something skimpy on and brace yourself for what's to come, because you are curious.

You want to see where he lives. Who he likes. What he looks like when he’s out of his element. You want to see if it all matches the version you've been playing in your head. The version you’ve carefully constructed while you’ve kept things simple, kept it just about the physical.

But you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of thinking you’re actually going to show up. So, you leave him hanging, go radio silent, and step out at 10 PM. Plus a glass of wine or two before you leave—just enough to make the shyness a little easier to ignore.

The alcohol burns nice in your veins… for a bit, until you’re standing outside the apartment door and the cold air cuts right through you, sobering you up fast.

At least you know it’s the right address, because you can hear the light thumping of bass and loud voices from out here (Not Bakugou’s though, but what would he even sound like loud, all you know is the low rough murmurs as he-). No turning back now. Not because you feel good about this decision, but because it’s freezing and your dress is doing absolutely nothing. So, you knock. Lightly.

And no one answers. Obviously. It’s a party, and half the people inside are probably too drunk or too distracted to notice. And none of them know who the hell you are anyway, so it’s not like anyone’s waiting at the door.

You check the handle. It turns. It’s open.

So, you step inside.

And it hits—hard. Like sensory overload dialed to ten. The place is decked out top to bottom, barely recognizable as a regular apartment. Streamers, lights, drinks in every corner. And before you can even take it all in, your eyes land on the handmade banner slapped across the wall: Happy Birthday Katsuki!

You don’t even need to ask. A quick glance around says it all—loud and clear.

There are old photos strung up along the walls, clipped to fairy lights that flicker unevenly. Most of the pictures are clearly from childhood—blond hair, scowling even as a toddler, surrounded by messy frosting and crooked party hats. One’s shows him mid-scream, cake all over his face. It’s kind of cute. Kind of surreal. Because this is his party.

It’s Bakugou’s birthday.

And he invited you to his birthday party?

You scan the room again, sharper this time. The place is crowded, but not enough to lose someone like him. And he’s not here. That heavy, sinking feeling creeps into your chest.

Maybe he invited someone else.

Maybe when you didn’t text back, he moved on, picked another warm body to fill the space. It wouldn’t be crazy. It wouldn’t be wrong. You don’t owe each other anything, and that’s the whole point of this thing—or at least it was. But still, the thought lands heavy, makes something sour churn low in your gut. Makes your throat go tight in that way you hate.

You swallow it down, hard.

You’re already halfway through turning around, ready to slip back out before you embarrass yourself any further, when a voice cuts through the noise. One you don’t recognize, but it says your name like it knows you.

It’s coming from a big, beefy redhead, cheeks flushed pink from alcohol, smile wide and boyish like he’s genuinely thrilled to see you. There’s this urgent sparkle in his eyes, and for a second you’re stuck wondering how the hell does he know your name.

“You’re here! Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re actually here,” he laughs, loud and booming and way too happy.

Before you can say anything, he’s placing a warm, heavy hand on your shoulder, “Hey, let me take your jacket. I’m Kirishima, by the way! Don’t think we’ve met yet.”

And you just… let him. Because honestly, you can’t think of anything else to do. You shrug your jacket off, hand it over, and he somehow manages to wedge it onto an already overflowing coat rack like it’s no big deal.

“Katsuki is…” he glances around, squinting into the crowd, “—well, I think he already snuck off somewhere. Classic. Gets sick of his own birthday halfway through every year.”

He laughs again, easy and fond, like that’s something everyone should know. Like you’re part of the group that gets Bakugou Katsuki.

And when it’s clear you’re not going to laugh with him—that you’re not in on the joke—he shifts, scratching the back of his neck, the flush on his cheeks deepening.

“Let’s get you a drink, yeah? Before Katsuki finds out you’re here and steals you away.”

Then he’s already turning, guiding you through the tangle of bodies toward the kitchen. You follow, trying not to overthink that last part. Steals you away. Like you’re some prize Bakugou might casually claim.

Does everyone think you’re just a body to him? And would that really be so bad… if it meant he’d picked you?

Fuck you need that drink. You toss the first one back the second it’s in your hand—barely tastes like anything, just cold and sharp. Kirishima lets out a loud laugh, already reaching to pour you another like it’s a challenge. As he talks, he’s all bright chatter—rambling about how annoying the setup was, how they almost didn’t get enough booze. He asks when your birthday is like it’s just part of the conversation, like none of this is weird.

He’s mid-sentence when someone interrupts—a blond, all pretty eyes and glazed-over smile, leaning in over Kirishima’s shoulder like he’s got zero sense of personal space. Drunk, maybe high. Definitely nosy, not that Kirishima seems to mind anyway. 

“Who’s the pretty girl, Ei?” he slurs, trying for a smirk that doesn’t quite land.

Kirishima just laughs, easily wrapping an arm around the guy to steady him. “This is Bakugou’s girl, bro. Back off.”

The blond seems as thrown by that as you are. Bakugou’s girl? Since when?

“Wait… I thought she wasn’t coming,” he frowns, looking a little too disappointed. “That’s why Bakubro was being extra mean to me today…”

You expect Kirishima to jump in with something. But instead, he just gives you this look—his brows raised slightly, an expectant glint in his eyes, like he's silently nudging you to explain yourself too. 

“Oh, um…” You twist uncomfortably under their gazes, feeling the weight of the attention. “I didn’t think I’d be able to, but… I am here now, so…” You shrug, the words feeling clumsy even to you.

Kirishima just watches you, his expression blank, and you get the sense that he’s not exactly thrilled with your answer—or with your whole last-minute appearance. Blondie, on the other hand, pouts deeper, his voice laced with a hint of teasing frustration. “Well, I would’ve preferred if you came before the beer pong… He was so aggressive with it…”. Kirishima gives the guy a playful pat on the head in response, a silent gesture that seems to acknowledge the comment without words.

This whole interaction has you itching to find Bakugou, to see why everyone’s been expecting you, why his flatmate seems annoyed by your absence. And, of course, to catch a glimpse of his handsome face too. “Where’s the birthday boy? I haven’t been here before, so…”

At the mention of Bakugou, Kirishima’s energy shifts, his enthusiasm returning like flipping a switch. “Let me show you,” he says, peeling Denki off his shoulder with a gentle but firm hand. “Denks, drink some water, okay?” Kirishima adds, his tone casual but with a hint of concern, before turning back to you to lead you back through the crowd. 

Eventually, Kirishima stops in front of a hallway door, turning back to give you a quick grin. “He’s probably hiding out in there,” he says, giving the door a casual knock. “Don’t be too shocked, though. He’s a little… cranky tonight.” He flashes you one last smile before turning and walking away, leaving you standing there at the door.

You push the door open, silently wishing you will either find him inside alone, or not at all. 

The room is dimly lit, the faint glow of string lights hanging lazily in the corners, old posters covering the walls. The scent of cigarette smoke lingers in the air, mixing with the faint buzz of the party from down the hall. Your eyes scan the room, searching for him, and that's when you see him: Bakugou, slouched in a chair by the window, arms crossed over his chest.

He doesn’t seem to notice you at first, too caught up in his own world. You can’t help but watch him for a moment, noticing the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw tightens slightly as he breathes in. You hesitate for a moment, but before you can second-guess yourself, his voice breaks the silence.

"Didn't think you'd actually show," he mutters, his gaze still locked on the window, his tone rougher than usual.

"You didn’t tell me it was your birthday," you say, unmoving from your place at the door.

He doesn’t respond right away, his silence thick in the air between you. The seconds stretch on, but then, slowly, he turns to face you. His brow furrows, lips curling into something between a frown and a smirk, but it’s his eyes that catch you off guard. They’re wide, not shy, but hungry, tracing your frame with an intensity that makes the space between you feel smaller than it is.

"Come closer," he demands, voice low, almost challenging. "I want a better look at you."

You hate how easily you obey, the words pulling you forward like a magnet. Until finally, you’re close enough that the air between you feels thick, charged. His legs caging your own as you stand between them. 

He doesn't move, not yet, but you feel the weight of his gaze, steady and intense. And when his hands finally find your waist, it’s almost a relief. Almost. They tug you forward, pulling you down onto his lap with a quiet but unmistakable force.

You try to steady yourself, to regain control, but his grip tightens just enough to remind you who’s in charge here. You swallow hard, your pulse quickening at the feel of his body so close to yours.

"Is this how you like it?" His voice is rougher now, darker, a question more than anything else.

“You know how I like it.” 

He lets out a dry chuckle, the sound rough. "Damn right," he mutters, his hands sliding through your hair, fingers pulling roughly at your scalp, forcing your eyes to meet his. You hold in the quiet noise already threatening to come out from the treatment. 

"I was pissed when you didn’t reply," he says, his gaze burning into yours. “Told everyone my girl was coming, even helped Shitty hair with putting the decks up, got the good drinks too. But you didn’t show.”

His grip on your waist tightens, pulling you in just a little closer, the light scent of alcohol on his breath. "Do you always keep people waiting?" he asks, his voice rougher now, low and almost a growl. "Or was this just for me?"

You hate how his words vibrate through you, how you have to resist the temptation to press your legs together while spread out on his lap, refusing to let him feel the impact of his own words. “But what is it you want from me, Katsuki?” You breathe out, close enough now to see his eyes flash at the name change. “I thought this was just sex, and now you’re inviting me to your birthday party and getting pissy when I don’t show... Is meeting your friends part of the deal now, too?”

“You think this is just sex?” he says, voice rougher now, like he’s testing the words himself. “You think I don’t hate walking away every time? That I haven’t thought about just… staying? Not leaving for once. Keeping you.” A beat. “Keeping you as mine?”

Your breath catches.

“Katsuki… then why didn’t you just ask?” you whisper. “Instead of always running off.”

“Never the right fuckin’ time,” he mutters, his fingers brushing the side of your face, his touch unexpectedly gentle. “You were always either sleeping or too fucked out to hold a conversation. And you... you sure know how to make a guy nervous Angel.”

You blink. “I make you nervous?”

His hand moves to the back of your neck, his grip tightening just enough to pull you closer, “You think I do this often?” His laugh is low, a little dry, but there’s a sincerity to it that catches you off guard. “I downloaded Tinder as a fuckin’ joke. But when I saw your face... couldn’t resist. And the second I had you? Casual was never gonna work for me.”

The weight of his words settles in your chest. You can’t look away, not when he’s watching you like that, like he’s been starving for this moment.

“But hey,” he says, voice dipping low, almost a murmur now. “If you don’t want more, that’s fine. I’ll still give you what you need.” His thumb traces your lower lip, a delicate contrast to everything else about him. “But I want all of it, Angel. I want everything you’ll give me.”

You stare at him, your voice steady despite the heat flooding your veins. “You think I’d be here if you hadn’t caught me too?” you say quietly. “I don’t get this pretty for just anyone.”

His expression shifts. The hunger softens into something warmer, heavier. Something like possession. “You better not,” he says, almost reverently. “You’re mine now.”

And then his mouth is on yours.

Your lips crash together, like they have a million times before, and then he’s picking you up and caging you on the bed underneath you. He dives into your neck, his lips trailing fire across your skin, a low, satisfied groan vibrating from his chest as he kisses you like a man starved. You gasp, trying to hold onto the moment, but you can barely keep your thoughts straight.

You laugh, a little tipsy on him more than the alcohol now. “Katsuki, wait—” You reach up to gently tug at his hair, trying to pull him back. “There’s like a million people in your apartment.”

He barely registers the comment, his hands already at your waist, pulling you closer. “Don’t care,” he mutters, ripping off his shirt with frustration, exposing his toned chest as he leans down to kiss you again.

“I care,” you protest weakly, though the excitement burning in you is undeniable. “I just met them… I want to leave a good impression.”

His eyes darken, a smirk tugging at his lips as he stares down at you. “Fuck that,” he growls, his hands tracing the curves of your body possessively. “The only person you need to be good for is me.”

You roll your eyes, trying to bite back a grin. “Yeah, sure, but I’d prefer not to be that girl at your party—”

“Angel,” he interrupts, voice full of mischief, “I’m the birthday boy.”

His breath ghosts over your ear, sending a shiver straight down your spine.

“Now…” he murmurs, lips brushing your skin, “let me open my present.”

.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊

general taglist 🏷️ : @cristy-101 @cielito--lindo @waterfal-ling

the getaway driver & his gunman | theyre the duo you probably didnt want to run into on the road at night 🏍💨

So Zayne coded it’s ridiculous

જ⁀♡⊹｡° he got that boyish look that i like in a man ;)

♡ a/n — first bsd post in a longggg while!!! enjoy this drabble!

♡ word count — 571

♡ content — ranpo edogawa x gn! reader, secret relationship, fluff, not much else to say tbh, not proofread

♡ synopsis — Wrapped in golden sunlight and the shared knowledge of something no one else in the world knows...this is how you and ranpo edogawa like to spend your time.

Ranpo has his head in your lap again.

The blinds in the agency office are tilted just enough to let the late afternoon sunlight spill across the floor, warm and honey-colored. Everyone else has gone — Atsushi and Kunikida wrapped up their case earlier, and even Dazai made his usual theatrical exit an hour ago. You’d stayed behind to finish reports, and Ranpo… 

Well, Ranpo had declared he was “on break from being brilliant.”

Which, in Ranpo terms, meant crawling into the couch, eating two lollipops, and then making himself comfortable with his head in your lap.

Your fingers move instinctively to his hair, brushing through the dark strands, careful not to dislodge his ever-present cap. He hums softly, not quite asleep, not quite awake, utterly content in that lazy, boyish way he always is when it's just the two of you.

“Someone’s going to walk in one day,” you say, voice low and amused. “You’re not exactly subtle.”

Ranpo’s eyes stay closed, but his lips curl into a smirk. “They won’t. I locked the door.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You locked the—Ranpo.”

“Relax,” he mumbles, patting your knee like you’re the one that’s overreacting. “They all think I went home. Besides… it’s more fun this way, right?”

You exhale through a small laugh, shaking your head. “You and your secrets.”

He peeks up at you, one green eye glittering with mischief. “You like it.”

And he’s not wrong.

There’s no real reason your relationship is a secret. It isn’t forbidden, or complicated, or shameful. 

But there’s something intoxicating about having this quiet little world that belongs to only the two of you — something about the way his hand brushes yours in the hallway when no one’s looking, the way he’ll pass you notes folded into candy wrappers, or catch your eye in a meeting and wink like you’re sharing a joke no one else is in on.

It’s private. 

It’s safe. 

And it’s yours.

Ranpo stretches like a cat, limbs long and lazy. “You know, if I were anyone else, I’d get tired of hiding,” he muses. “But I’m the greatest detective in the world. I know how to cover my tracks.”

“Mm. Impressive.”

“And I know,” he adds, voice softening, “that you like keeping secrets.”

You glance down. He’s watching you now, gaze open and sharp despite how relaxed he looks. He’s infuriatingly perceptive sometimes, catching emotions you didn’t even realize you were feeling. 

You wonder if he knows how your heart stutters when he looks at you like that — like you’re not just someone he likes, but someone he chooses, again and again.

Your fingers brush along his cheek. “You make it hard not to.”

His grin widens. “Because I’m cute?”

You laugh under your breath. “Because you’re you.”

It’s a simple answer, but it’s the truth. 

You could list a thousand reasons: his genius, his ridiculous sweet tooth, the way he somehow always finds the softest parts of you without even trying. 

But in the end, it’s just… him. All of him. 

The boyish charm, the childlike laziness, the startling flashes of brilliance — you love it all.

Ranpo hums again, content. He pulls your hand into his, weaving your fingers together and resting them on his chest.

And for a little while, you both just stay like that. 

Quiet. 

Hidden. 

Safe. 

Wrapped in golden sunlight and the shared knowledge of something no one else in the world knows.

is the bsd fandom still alive?

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated

⋆.˚✮ 2025 ©airybcby ✮˚.⋆

megumi x reader who loves doing her makeup ෆ

you were sitting on your vanity stool, trying a new makeup look you saw on pinterest. megumi was laying on your bed reading a book. you both really dont need to talk to enjoy each others presence, and as an introvert it was one of the things he loved about your relationship (tho he also enjoyed hearing you yap a lot)

after being satisfied with your look, you went to megumi "megu, what do you think of my makeup?" and batted your eyelashes prettily at him. megumi looked up from his book and stared at you for a full 10 seconds.. you were almost getting nervous but then he said "you look..nice," while blushing. "you look good without makeup too but this also suits you, a lot" and he meant it genuinely. you thanked him and kissed his nose and in response he said youd get your lipstick on his nose. so you attacked his cheeks instead and this time he just let you not bc he enjoyed it or anything (he did)

from then on, whenever you applied makeup he will sit right next to you and stare at you, wondering how you could be so pretty. when you open your lips while applying eyeliner he gets cuteness aggression. something about you loving yourself and being confident in yourself makes him feel so proud and happy for you. he also helps you sometimes like moving your hair out of your face when you do your makeup, passing you your mascara, tagging you on makeup inspo tiktoks. spoils you by buying you lippies and you test them by kissing him (loves this part the most lol)

takes cute pics of you after youre done with your makeup. sets them as his wallpaper and posts them on his IG story (his friends are shocked to see an IG story from him bc he rarely posts😭) and now he has highlights dedicated to you. also cutest captions like "my love" or "look at this cutie".

in short he cant get enough of you and your cute hobby of doing makeup. he really has the prettiest gf in the world!