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Can you do girl dad katsuki

Girl dad - w/katsuki

Girl dad katsuki who nearly pees his pants when he finds out you're having a girl. He's a loud, aggressive, short tempered man with little patience, how was he going to deal with a daughter??

When she's first born and friends and family come over to visit her he makes sure that everyone washes and sanitizes thoroughly. He lets everyone know not to kiss her, especially on her face, and if his daughter gets sick he'll "blow their asses up.” or something along those lines.

At night when she cries he tells you to stay In bed and he'll handle it. at first he hated changing diapers, but he's gotten used to it… kinda. “There’s no way you should smell like this.. the hell is yer mom feeding you..” if a diaper change and a bottle don’t calm her screams he’ll hold her and sway around the room while humming or singing a tune to her. If he has to he’ll hold her all night while sleeping in the rocking chair so she can get a good nights sleep, even if it means his back will be in pain all morning.

He’s a big softie when it comes to her milestones. Her first words, first steps, the first time she tries solid foods, when she learns to clap, high-five and crawl. it all makes him feel really proud but also sad in a way. Her milestones are signs that she’s growing up and that’s something he wants to hold off for as long as possible.

He carries her around when and wherever she wants. “Daddy up!” she says while the three of you are out for a walk. He’ll smile down at her then put her on his shoulders and make airplane sounds. She's a Velcro baby, when he's doing his push ups she'll be on his back giggling, when he's cooking she's on his shoulders moving his hair like Remi (ratatouille) When he’s eating dinner she’ll be sitting in his lap waiting for him to share another bite of his food with her.

He loves creating little fireworks in the palm of his hand with his quirk for her because it makes her laugh really hard, and it's one of his favorite sounds in the whole world. He loves it when you buy her little versions of his merch. His favorite being the one that says “My daddy and hero all in #1” (I canon katsuki being #1) and there's a picture of him on the little onesies back.

He thought it would be hard being a "girl dad" but it's actually one of his favorite things In the world. He wears his title like a crown and wouldn't change it for anything. (He still wants a son tho)

Hi friends! This was really hard for me to write for some reason.... But i hope you enjoyed!

Soo sorry to anon who requested for taking so long on this...

But i hope you enjoyed, thank you for reading!

Requests are night encouraged and appreciated!

xo-winter 🪼🤍

☝️🤓 i guess my contribution to this trend, well its not my best I tried

Kakashi as your Divorce Lawyer

18+ content, Minors do NOT interact

Pairing: Modern AU Kakashi x F!Reader

Summery: Divorce lawyer Kakashi is astonished by the gorgeous driven woman who enters his office one day and slowly spirals till she's divorced and he can finally take his turn in claiming her

Warnings: NSFW but pretty tame for my page

Word Count. 3.6k

Author's Note: This is an old request from @decayedbong. Some parts of this are loosely based on my actual divorce. I'll let you guess which ones.

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who was in his office one day when he heard a faint knock and a little “hmm hmm.” Ignoring you, he looks to the window of his office to see if his assistant is at her desk. With dejection at her absence, he shifts his gaze to you only to find his pupils dilating with hunger. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, whose gaze rakes over your figure standing tall in sleek business attire. Your shirt, a royal blue satin tee with sleeves just above the elbow and a cowl neckline. Your bottoms, a pair of black leather dress slacks, high-waisted with the shirt tucked in, fitted around your plump backside and tapered out from your thighs to your ankles. To complete the alluring look, your hair is gathered in a loose bun high on your head, and pointed black leather kitten heels adorn your feet, keeping you petite but elegant all the same.  

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who, after a moment of staring, realizes you’re blushing and looking off to the side, unaccustomed to the attention of a man as high status as himself. Quickly, he closes his mouth, which fell agape, and clears his throat, bringing your eyes back to him. After motioning for you to sit down in front of him, you gladly sit in the cushioned chair, nervous in spite of your powerhouse clothes.

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who wonders how big of an idiot your husband must be to screw up a relationship with someone like you. Once you begin to explain your situation, his mind goes from wonder to anger. The idiot in question is an unemployed man-child who treats you with disrespect and makes you pay all the bills on top of all the household responsibilities. When you begin to cry, realizing how far gone the relationship’s gotten, you feel ashamed that you put yourself in your current situation. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who reaches across the desk and takes your hand. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up. I see this every day; you just bet on the wrong horse is all.” Gulping back your tears, you nod your head. The remaining droplets that line your lower lash accentuate the depth of your eyes. Kakashi finds himself getting lost in them before he blinks back to reality and proclaims. “I’ll take the case.”

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, spends the rest of the day thinking about you. You’re sweet and small, but something about you seems big. Kakashi gets the sense that you are actually some corporate hotshot who has climbed the ladder and is only a few promotions away from her goals. He fantasizes about breaking you in, but deep down, he’s certain at home you trade your blazer for an apron and he wants that more than anything. His logic knows that behind closed doors you become the perfect meek little housewife of a man’s dreams, and though he wants it, after hearing your story today, he wants to show you what it’s like to be taken care of for a change.  

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who follows up with you a few days later, asking for an evaluation of your assets and ready to draft an initial copy of your divorce agreement. You hesitate to answer, embarrassed that you don’t have time for an office visit. Eventually, you gather the courage to tell him you won’t be able to because of work, but instead, he offers to meet you wherever you are.

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who, upon his arrival in your office, seems to cause quite a stir. Many women gawk at him as he trails through the building, winding around till he finds your cubicle. You stand to greet him, shaking his hand and pulling out the spare chair in your surprisingly spacious section of the bull pen. Today, you’re wearing a low-cut wrap dress with stilettos and a blazer. You sport the same loose bun at the crown of your head, and your diamond earrings lay hidden amongst the face-framing strands of hair. 

After properly assessing you, Kakashi’s eyes glance around the cubicle, noting your Bachelor's degree and two empty frames next to it. “What are those for?” He asks.

“Oh, it’s a bit silly but those are for the degrees I’m working on now. I have the empty frames as motivation.” 

Kakashi lifts his brow. “Degrees? As in plural?”

“Yes, I’m double majoring right now. I want to move up, so I’m going to school while I work.”

“You mean on top of everything you told me the other day, you’re also going to school to complete two master’s degrees.”

Your polite nod wins over Kakashi’s heart. The humility in your admission, coupled with how normal you make it seem, are precious to him. He wants to defend you now more than before. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who shows you how to evaluate your assets and walks you through the alimony process. Though you have been supporting your spouse for five years, since being unemployed was his choice and not something your marriage necessitated, he did not have grounds to claim any continuing financial support. This is further solidified by the fact that the reason you lived in your current city was to move for a career opportunity for him, which he then quit after two days. A fact that dropped Kakashi's jaw.

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who showed you how unwise your husbands attempts at your finances are and promises the defense will be easy.

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who is interrupted every few minutes by staff members looking for your help. He’s quick to realize you’ve turned yourself into a valuable asset for your company, watching in awe as you show your peers and even upper-level managers how to find loopholes that aid customers and advocate for the firm’s clientele. From what he can see, you’re not just good at what you do, you’re great. Astonishing and beautiful, you’re husband truly has no clue what he messed up. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who has a hard time thinking about anything other than you. Determined to see you more, he makes up lame excuses to further consult with you in person, claiming he needs to see the house to get it valuated, asking to meet for coffee so you can sign various addendums that don’t even apply to your case, and doing ‘wellness checks’ to document emotional distress caused by the negligent behavior of your soon-to-be ex. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who is so sweet to you. He texts you each night to make sure you’re okay now that your ex has finally moved out. He makes himself busy, installing security cameras at your doors, dropping off take-out when he knows you have school projects, and over all being there for you. You tell him you don’t know how you’ll pay him back for all these billable hours, but he assures you not to worry about it. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who grows protective of you leading up to the day of your court hearing. He comes to the courthouse with a coffee and a smile, reassuring you that today will go smoothly. You welcome both, feeling nervous. “Why did you dress down?” He inquires, noticing your simple khaki slacks with pointed flats and a cream body suit to match.

“I didn’t want him to think I dressed to impress him. I’m just here to get this over with. That’s all.”

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, looks at you with adoration. You are too precious to let down. He swears he’s going to give you what you deserve, in the courtroom and in the bedroom. You just don’t know it yet.

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi,  who catches your worried face. As you enter the courtroom, you notice your husband hasn’t arrived yet. Your pupils dilate, wondering if he is going to show, and if not, does this mean he’s going to drag out the divorce process? Your mind reels but he’s probably just running late like he always is. 

Then, from the hall of the usually silent building, you hear loud yelling and recognize the shouts of your mother-in-law. You wince in embarrassment, knowing this isn’t the time and place for their constant crescendo. Based on the faces of the officers of the court, they find the acoustic entry to be distasteful, too. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who chuckles and leans in to whisper, “Did he really bring his mommy?” into your ear, forcing you to hide a giggle. As Kakashi straightens up, his mismatched eyes catch those of your husband’s. He assesses the man, searching for any redeeming quality that would justify your marriage to him. Scrutinizing over every detail, he gloats. He’s going to enjoy dismantling your ex’s arguments and afterwards, he’s going to enjoy claiming you as his own.

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who argues on your behalf and wipes the floor with your now ex-husband. Everything that you earned stays with you and not a penny will fall into your ex’s hands. When the final agreement is signed, you hug your silver-haired superhero while he smirks in your ex’s direction. Your now ex-mother-in-law glares at the pair of you while you leave the room with Kakashi’s hand casually on your hip, protecting you from the dangerous look in her eyes. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who calls your name, giving you pause as you turn your head to gaze up at him, “Yes?”

“I’d like to take you out for dinner this evening.”

“Oh I can’t accept that, you’ve done so much for me already.”

“I insist.”

Realization strikes you, your lips parting as you ask the question, “Kakashi, are you asking me on a date?”

“Yes.”

You stammer, amazed that someone like him would be interested in someone like you. “Are you sure you’re asking the right girl?”

Kakashi laughs and pulls you close, one arm encircling your waist, right outside the courtroom and in front of your now ex husband who’s watching the pair of you in horror. 

“Maybe you’re not as smart as I thought.” he jests, bringing his face dangerously close to yours. 

“I most definitely am not.” you quip back.

“Well I don’t care. You’re perfect and I want to wine and dine you till you’re mine.”

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, whose eyes you gaze up into with pupils blown wide. You can fully feel the heat of your ex’s stare as you gather your wits to agree to be courted like a proper lady by the most gorgeous and successful man you’ve ever met. The ‘yes’ barely makes it past your lips before he’s kissing you with every drop of passion he’s been holding at bay these past two months. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who you gently pull away from, not wanting to provoke a scene in public. “Please Kakashi, let’s save the celebration for later.”

“I knew she was a whore.” your former mother in law yells. You already know how she told your neighbors all sorts of insane things, making them uncomfortable and causing them to ‘warn you’ about her, but you never really cared what she thought. You always had a poor relationship with your ex’s family anyway. What’s one more word of hate?

But this…this thing with Kakashi feels different. It feels meaningful and real. You don’t know where it’s going but you want to find out. If that makes you a whore, so be it. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who whisks you away and walks you to your car, instructing you on the dress code of the restaurant for the evening. He loves seeing you all dolled up so he intentionally is taking you to a place designed for people in a whole other tax bracket. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who impresses you with your dining arrangements. He provides you with meaningful conversation, lets you choose your own meal, and is polite to the wait staff. He checks all the boxes and then checks some more when his goofy side begins to shine. Subtle jokes and sarcasm lay hidden as he speaks. He talks about the kids he helps at the Boys and Girls Club and you feel your heart is set ablaze. You want him. Not just for a night but for a future. You were robbed of a marriage, a family, and a future by your ex-husband's childish behavior, but with Kakashi, he’s a man. A man who can provide you with a real marriage, a family, and a future.

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who watches you poke your food as your mind reels. He reaches out to cover your hand with his, stopping your thoughts and bringing your attention to his soft features. “What is it?”

“I-” you look down and swallow, “I just got out of a serious relationship. Before I enter another one, I need to know, are you looking for a future with me or is this just for fun?”

“Can it be both? I hear serious relationships are very boring. I’d rather enjoy being around my future wife.”

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who you look at with stunned eyes. “You really feel that way?”

“Since the day I met you. I can’t believe how hard your ex fumbled you. If you will be mine, I’ll treat you like gold the rest of our lives." he proclaims. "Every day I see men mess up relationships. I watch as their tired and broken wives explain their life stories to me. I know what women want is someone who cares about the chores, the children, the mental load, and treats them with general kindness. Those are the things I want to do for you.” 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, has you speechless. You stare at him, expression adorably blank and reminiscent of a deer caught in headlights.

“So will you let me try to be those things for you?”

Slowly, you nod, accepting his offer. “Yes, I’ll let you try.”

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who orders food for delivery and pays for the bill immediately. 

“What are you doing?”

“Not wasting a second. We can eat after.”

“After?! After what?”

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who drops $200 on the table, instructing the waiter to keep the change before he grabs you by the waist and escorts you out of the restaurant hurriedly. He guides you to a high-end car and moves to open the door but first pushes you up against it, kissing you like you are a popsicle that could melt away from him at any second. His teeth nip at your lips, biting them and pulling them, turning them red. Then he lunges back in, sweeping his tongue past your teeth and into your cavern, allowing it to dance with yours. 

His hands covetously grab each side of your face and pull you into him, pinning you in place between the car and his body. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who grinds into you in the parking lot of the most expensive restaurant in town. He’s barely able to contain himself, debating hiking up your skirt and claiming you right here in public or giving you the dignity of taking you home first. He decides on the gentlemanly thing even though the dog in him is screaming in protest.

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who whispers between kisses, asking permission to take you back to his place. “Of course.” you breathe, wondering why the question needed to be asked but happy that he cared. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who grips your hand as he speeds home, occasionally guiding it over to his bulge, using your hand to palm himself. Your body tenses up every time you feel the hardness that lies beneath, still in awe that this is truly happening.

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who pulls into his garage and jogs around to your side of the car, opening the door and pulling you up into his arms. He kisses you tenderly, meaning to guide you into his home, but your little moans drive him haywire with lust. “Can’t- control myself- around- you.” he grunts out between kisses while his hands wander around your silhouette. 

Your delicate voice rings out in agreement, letting your hands slip down to his pants to tug open the buttons. His hands slide to your behind, circling and massaging the tissue.

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who goes feral at the sounds of your arousal. He bucks up into you as you tug down his slacks and let his hands glide to the bottom of your skirt, tugging up the hem to run his fingers along the seam of your drenched center.

“I knew you’d be wet f’me” his lust-drunk voice chimes, slipping your thong to the side and sinking a finger into your warmth. 

You immediately gasp, clenching around the singular digit while he works to wet your entire entrance, lubing you up for the aching appendage waiting to dive into your drooling hole. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, whose fingers jut in and out, making you squirm as your hand tugs along his length, anxious to have him the way he intends to have you. 

He kicks off his pants, leaving them behind when he grabs the backs of your thighs and wraps them around his waist, pinning his rod between your heat and his abdomen. Folds thirsting to have it penetrating rather than resting, you clench, pulsing against what you want most. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who groans into your mouth as he carries you inside the home, intending to take you upstairs, but the temptation is too strong, and instead, he lays you on the kitchen island. 

“Sorry baby, I can’t wait any longer.” He whispers into your hair before rubbing his shaft against your center and slipping in. 

You’re drenched, something you haven’t experienced in five years. But with Kakashi, he pulls out every drop of desire that’s been waiting to come alive since you made the decision to divorce.

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who begins to thrust into you, shifting your body back and forth on the cool granite countertop. Every nerve ending is extra sensitive, fully aware of the pleasure rocking you both. Your breathing turns to pants quickly, your climax hitting you far too soon, but it’s been so long since you’ve done this, let alone enjoyed this, that the smallest amount of intimacy has you reeling.

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who fucks you through your first of many orgasms that night, bending you in several new positions, and experimenting with you in the kitchen, on the couch, on the stairs and eventually in the bed. You find yourself a sweaty mess by the time he’s almost finished with you, but you keep going anyway, determined for this experience to never end.

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who sees your strength is waning, so he decides to play a little harder. He bends you back over onto your knees and aggressively pumps into you. Crying out in pleasure, he grabs your elbows, pulling back till your spine bows into a sinful arch, deepening his reach. You feel overwhelmed and exhausted, too tired to take any control. With another spasm around his solid member, he pushes your head down into the mattress and continues his bruising pace. Your insides twist in agonizing pleasure, and your hoarse voice husks out one last scream before his balls tighten with the front of his thighs clench. He flips you onto your back to empty his seed on your belly, grunting as he does. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who grabs a towel and wipes off your skin before heating up the shower so both of you can rinse off with masculine, sudsy body wash. He looks so brilliant with wet, rippling muscles, coated in bubbles. You fall into his chest, still trying to realize this is reality. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who quickly rinses off hearing a ring at the door and returns to the bathroom with a takeout bag filled with the food you should’ve eaten at the restaurant. You rinse yourself too and twist your hair into a clip, covering your body in one of his baggy shirts. Both of you pad to the kitchen, grabbing plates and forks to dine on some of the most delicious food you’ve ever tasted. 

Your divorce lawyer, Kakashi, who pledges to treat you this way every day as long as you’ll have him, waiting anxiously for you to finally grace him with his favorite three letter word…”yes”

Masterlist

BETWEEN FORMULAS, FLOWERS AND FEELINGS - SATORU GOJO

You are the imbalance in Satoru’s logical and rational reasoning.

pairing: nerd! gojo x student council president! reader

summary: being the student council president isn’t the easiest job in the world. It’s not like gojo — with his trademark glasses, his awkward smile hiding the most dangerous brain. because for him, he can resolve every problem, right? there is no formula that can escape his smart mind. not even you. so when he accepts to tutor you, could he really be sure feelings won’t become a new variable?

warnings: +18 MDNI, nsfw, smut, virgin! gojo, first time, oral (m! receiving), pinning, college AU, shojo vibes, quantum physics subject, slight angst, fluff, idiots in love, insecure! gojo, nerd gojo with glasses is hot, art by @/3-aem.

wc: 9,922

Ever since he was little, Satoru Gojo seemed to have been blessed with knowledge.

His very first Christmas toy — when he was finally old enough to have one — was a huge playset containing chemical transformation recipes to prepare by himself, using a handful of formulas and calculations.

When he turned ten, his parents gifted him a kit that allowed him to build his own electric train circuit, which he had to assemble using physics methods so that real electricity could power his trains — and sometimes even his cars.

By the time he reached middle school, scientific subjects like physics and chemistry became his second mother. Nothing escaped him. Formulas, molecular mechanisms, and chemical transformations held no secrets. This passion for complex methods shaped his logic.

For every problem, Satoru always found a solution. To him, the world was nothing but a set of solvable scientific probabilities, where nothing could slip through his grasp.

But growing up with barely controllable hormones… poor Satoru had experienced firsthand just how bitter that could taste, even at university.

The first time he asked a girl from his middle school to go out with him in his third year, Satoru never would have thought she’d laugh right in his face before calling him a useless nerd.

He didn’t let anything show. And yet, it was from that very day that Satoru’s glasses, his passion for science, and his own self-confidence betrayed him.

He decided to give up on feelings — classifying them as a deceitful, unscientific belief with a complete lack of logic, something better suited for grotesque purposes like the movies or romantic TV series that entertained uncultured people.

Satoru didn’t need emotions when logic always prevailed, never once disappointing him.

But upon entering university, he could never understand why — despite his silence and absolute discretion, buried in his studies — his cerulean blue eyes always seemed to find their way back to you.

You were the student council president of the school. Known for your upright mind, flawless organization, and a sense of justice so firm it sometimes bordered on harshness.

You had no time for anyone. You spent your days planning university events without wasting a single second — a notebook always pressed against your chest, and occasionally, a pair of glasses perched on your nose during intense activities like studying for exams or arranging event halls, which were regularly occupied by you and your staff.

What intrigued Satoru the most about you was your logic.

You planned everything, organized everything, all while maintaining grades nearly as excellent as his. You never wasted time hanging around with those ridiculous girls who would likely reject him if he ever dared to speak to them, and he had already admire witnessed you standing up for people like him — those trapped in their introversion and buried in their books — refusing to tolerate the injustice caused by the school’s most popular students.

A deep respect radiated from you.

Something Satoru refused to admit. Even though he knew you could short-circuit his brain in an instant.

Like that time when you had asked him for a pen at the library during your study session because he wasn’t far from your table. His face had turned crimson, and he could have sworn smoke was coming out of his ears. His mouth — so used to speaking with precision and efficiency — completely failed him in front of you.

The words got stuck in his throat, and the few sounds that miraculously managed to escape were nothing but incomprehensible stutters, earning him a confused frown from you.

In the end, he gave up on any attempt at conversation and simply handed you the best pen in his pencil case — his favorite. And he had almost silently prayed in his head that you would forget to return it so that you would keep it with you.

And he hated that.

This power you had over him — the way you made him nervous, shy, and desperate for you.

Just like in middle school.

Something he had sworn to leave behind.

~~~~

“NO, NO, AND NO!”

The event hall falls into a deathly silence as you shout your words with such force and vehemence that your fists crush the few sheets of paper still clutched between your tense fingers.

No one dares to move anymore — a part of the staff is busy moving boxes of decorations, two others are handing you papers to sign, some are hovering around you with questions, and others are amusing themselves by climbing ladders to place Christmas decorations — as if your scream alone has just pierced through the entire university.

With your jaw clenched, a vein pulsing at your temple, your cheeks flushed with anger, and your throat slightly irritated, you struggle to breathe as all attention shifts onto you.

“I said I haven’t decided on the organization of the Spring Formal yet, that nothing is supposed to be taken out, signed, or even requested until I’ve given the order, so what the fuck are you all doing here?!” you exclaim.

You push past the students in your way and snap your fingers at the two idiots fooling around with the decorations.

“You two — you’re fired.”

Then, you turn to the rest of the group handling the boxes. “If you don’t want to be fired too, hurry up and put that away!” Next, to the members waiting for you to sign papers. “Out!”

As the room empties in silence, filled with sulky and terrified faces at the thought of dealing with you, you take a deep breath before crouching down to the floor, burying your face between your knees, your arms trembling.

There isn’t much time left.

Director Yaga has given you a deadline to organize the Spring Formal, leaving you in charge of the theme, the venue, and the entertainment.

But, for the first time in your role, you are literally overwhelmed.

For the first time as well, no inspiration comes to you. The stress of classes, exams happening at the same time as the event date, your poor grades lately, and the pressure your team keeps adding on top of all that—at some point, you were bound to explode.

With all of this piling up, how are you supposed to manage?

That’s exactly what you asked yourself during your class that very afternoon, staring at your 40/100 in quantum physics.

With your heart sinking into your stomach, you hastily shove the paper into your bag, not caring in the slightest if it gets crumpled.

No one must see that the student council president allows herself to yell at her team while having such catastrophic grades. But your overloaded schedule no longer allows you to focus on your studies alone — how can you concentrate and stay organized when all you want to do is throw yourself out the window?

~~~~

“You need to register to require a tutor.”

“But I don’t need one.”

The male student raises an eyebrow. “So what are you doing here?”

You scoff. How dare he talk to you like that?

You’re in the library, one of the most soothing and stressful places in the world. You’ve had to find a way to get your grades up while you sort out your problem with Spring Formal, but in the meantime, you need to find a student who can tutor you without anyone knowing.

So what better way to find out than from the librarian’s assistant — who is also one of the Tutoring Center’s organizers?

“I need to know who’s the top student in quantum physics here,” you insist with a firmer tone.

Forgetting you’re at the entrance to the library, you purse your lips, a little embarrassed.

“We don’t have ‘top students’, prez,” he replies with a bitter smile — ah, so he knows who you are.

“So how do you help the students?” you ask with almost indignation.

He shrugs. “If you need help—”

“I do not,” you cut him off coldly, cheeks on fire as you adjust your bag over your shoulder. You sigh in annoyance at the student’s lack of efficiency.

“Then, how can I help you?” He gives you the most impertinent smile in the world, as if he’s just waiting for you to get the hell out.

You tuck a stray lock of your hair back behind your ear before rolling your eyes. “I need to talk to a top student in quantum physics, that’s all.”

The student looks at his fingernails as if they're the most important thing in the world and mimes huffing. “We don’t have any.” He looks up at you. “If you’re looking for one, there’s a nerd who’s the best in his class.”

Curiosity pricks the back of your neck, causing you to sit up straight. “Who?”

“Gojo, I think,” he said, frowning as if to remember his name. “Sato-thing, if I remember. Anyway, a nerd. You should know him, I guess.”

You shake your head, eyes almost squinting as you seek the memory of a Gojo name. But nothing comes to mind. So you shrug.

“What does he look like?”

“Albino. Blue eyes, nerd glasses, always dressed in a sweatshirt or shirt and he always has a book under his arm.”

“All right, thanks.”

Then you hurry out of the library and its oppressive walls, leaving the assistant to sigh with relief — as much as you do.

~~~~

“So, you are… Gojo Sato-thing?”

He has a little disappointed smile. “Satoru Gojo, prez.” With a nervous gesture, he places the strap of his shoulder bag back on his shoulder and adjusts his glasses, which slide down his nose.

You stare at him motionless for a few seconds, speechless at the all-too-perfect likeness of the Tutoring Center manager’s description. He’s got a book under his arm, a Digimon t-shirt over a dark blue plaid shirt and an innocent look on his face — he really wasn’t wrong.

You blink. “Um… yeah. Whatever.”

You check that no one in the corridor of the quantum physics wing has left any students lying around who might surprise you with him, then let out an exhausted exhale.

Faced with his 6'3, you owe it to yourself to raise your eyes and chin a little higher.

“I need your help. You're the best physics student in the class, right?”

He turns the toe of his shoe as a tic on the floor and nods imperceptibly.

“Perfect. I’ve got a little problem right now and—”

“Do you need me to do an assignment for you?” he says almost as if trying to divine your thoughts — is that hope you see in his eyes?

“No.” You knit your brows. “I’m having a problem with my grades and I’m swamped with my event responsibilities and I'm starting to get grades...” You chew the inside of your cheek to hide your pride before muttering, “...pretty bad. And I don’t feel like being given help publicly.”

In his confused expression, you add, “Otherwise it would be a real shame...”

From his height, Satoru’s shyness almost flies away in a gust. He’s got you there at last. In front of him. Talking about something. Like a dream come true — a reality where he no longer knows what his name is but whatever.

He even perceives a blushing creeping up your cheeks as you drift your gaze a little lower to your own shoes and your lips crumple into an adorably embarrassed and frustrated little pout.

Then of course he’ll help you.

He would give you more if he could, and he promises to himself he’ll do it.

“So you need me as your secret tutor?” he clarifies so softly.

You look up at him, clearing your throat. “Basically… yeah.”

“Fine. I can do that.” A small smile spreads across his pink lips and he digs his hands into his jeans, which are a little baggy for him.

You flicker your eyes, confusion animating your features. “Is that all?”

“Do you need anything else?” And you’d have sworn you saw hope still shining in his ocean-blue irises.

“What? No,” you retort incredulously. “But don’t you need something in return? Like, money or something?”

“...No,” he exhales, reducing his smile — though it still lingers. “I don’t mind helping you. Just give me your free hours so we can set a date. If that’s okay with you, of course,” he hastens to add, as if afraid of upsetting you.

Your lips part slightly. “O-Okay,” you finally say. “I’d like to do this as soon as possible.”

“How about today?” Satoru suggests, with a little more enthusiasm than he had anticipated himself. “Or even now, if you want.”

“Now?”

“Yeah,” he says with a happy nod.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit too earl—”

Barely ten minutes later, you find yourself sitting next to him once again in the library, which, for once, is not too crowded, pretending to have a casual conversation while, in reality, he is analyzing your failed test papers with an expert eye.

One elbow resting on the polished wooden table, one hand holding one of your sheets between his fingers, and the other with his index and thumb supporting his chin, Satoru lets his gaze travel line by line over your flawless handwriting—so much so that he forgets he’s supposed to be concentrating on helping you.

And not on the pretty way you write the letter ‘S,’ wondering how close he’d be to a cardiac arrest if he ever saw his name written by your hand.

When he finally manages to analyze the mistakes on your paper, Satoru straightens slightly in his seat, adjusting the collar of his unbuttoned shirt that suddenly seems to be strangling him with an invisible noose, despite his neck remaining completely free. His heart pounds at the speed of light — almost literally.

Calculations and formulas have always been child’s play for Satoru; his brain has always been wired for logic, rationality, and the addictive thrill of adrenaline coursing through his veins when he makes a new discovery, a new analysis that falls perfectly into place — like completing a puzzle and watching it come to life, or like a house of cards standing strong until the slightest imbalance brings it all crashing down.

You are the imbalance in Satoru’s logical and rational reasoning.

For Satoru, love is not a science. It’s just hormones that one must learn to control and not be fooled by.

And yet, even though he has devoted his body and soul to science, his heart will never cease to be yours — under your implacable and irrevocable hold.

Even with all the scientific weapons in the world, he will always be powerless before you.

With a flutter of snowy lashes, he returns to reality, setting his gaze on yours; persistent, waiting for him to say something, to give some kind of critique.

His mouth goes dry, heat rushes to his cheeks as he clears his throat, embarrassed.

“Well, uh... I guess we can start revisiting the notion of The Uncertainty Principle, if that’s okay with you.” He gives you a quick glance so unconfident that you restrain yourself from doing what you're thinking of: ripping off his adorable cheeks — adorable? Since when do you find nerds adorable?

“Okay,” you say, pulling a draft sheet closer.

As you move your chair closer to his to concentrate better thanks to the proximity, the effect is quite the opposite on poor Satoru. He nearly loses all composure when his trembling fingers close around his pencil.

“W-Well… Um, do you want me to give you a quick lesson on this again? You didn’t seem to grasp much of the concept.”

“If you can use simple words…” you mumble without much hope.

He swallows hard before explaining, “A rule in quantum physics says: you can’t know both the exact position and momentum of a particle at the same time. The more you know about one, the less you know about the other. Got it?”

You squint, uncertain, as you rest your chin in the hollow of your palm. “Mh-hmm…”

“So,” he draws two Delta symbols, each followed by an x and a p, then an equal sign, “this one represents the uncertainty in position while the other represents the uncertainty in momentum.” He leans slightly forward to clearly define the terms for you before breaking down the formula, trying not to sweat under the ghost of your breath caressing his hand because of how close you are.

“Okay. I don’t think I quite got all that.”

“It’s okay,” Satoru replies with a slight smile as he adjusts his glasses on his nose before returning to the sheet. “You confused uncertainty with actual errors in measurement, and you tried to calculate exact values for both position & momentum, which isn’t possible.” He draws an example of throwing a ball vs. tracking an electron. “You can’t pin down a quantum particle perfectly — it’s like me trying to figure out what you’re thinking all the time. Impossible, right?”

“...Right.”

“You don’t understand anything, right?” he sighs, a slight frown curling his lips.

“Honestly? Not a word,” you chuckle, a soft, honest melody that caresses his ears.

“Let’s make it more real for you, prez, then,” he snorts too, wiping away a big smile that deepens his dimples. “Imagine you’re running around campus planning this big Spring Formal thing. If I try to track exactly where you are at one moment, I have no clue where you’ll be the next second. But if I focus on how fast you’re moving between meetings, I can guess you’ll end up in the library… but I won’t know the exact second you get there. That’s basically the Uncertainty Principle — can’t have both at the same time.”

“Ohhhh, okay!” you say, a light illuminating your face. But a second later, your features drop. “But, wait… that doesn’t make sense. If we have better tools, we can just measure both, right?”

He chuckles softly. “Nope. Even if we had the best measuring tools in the universe, the universe itself won’t let us know both at the same time. It’s not a technology problem — it’s just how nature works.”

You groan, frustrated, and slump over your notes. “Physics is pain.”

He shakes his head, a lighter smile blooming on his lips. “You’ll get it, I promise. You just need time… and a good tutor.”

“You?” You snicker, but not meanly — just teasing him in this mood that feels so comfortable with him, something you never thought you’d experience. “You’re losing me more than I was before.”

You both sigh after a while, and he gives you a practice exercise, which you rush to complete so he can correct it.

For the first time in maybe weeks, or even months, you haven’t felt this light. Quantum physics has always been a difficult challenge to overcome, despite your habit of planning everything to avoid stress. But sometimes, doing everything alone has led you to not ask for help when you needed it the most.

So when someone reached out and showed you how relieving some of that weight could feel, the sensation sparked a desire in you — one that didn’t want this to end.

But you’re afraid it will make you dependent.

So it’s best not to get too attached, right?

~~~~

The following week, even though your understanding of quantum physics has somewhat improved, your stress refuses to do anything but skyrocket toward a full-blown anxiety attack.

Principal Yaga summoned you to his office because some students — the two you expelled last week — went to complain about your nervous and excessive behavior, claiming it warranted psychological support.

Outraged, you defended yourself by pointing out the inefficiency of your team, who fail to meet your needs without considering the mental load that comes with your responsibility as the student council president. And yet, that wasn’t enough to calm Yaga, who dismissed you with a stern reminder that if you don’t finalize the Spring Formal preparations soon, he won’t hesitate to replace you with a more competent organizer.

The mere thought — no, the haunting fear—of being replaced like a cheap supermarket doll plagues your nights with nightmares.

So, the obvious anxiety growing inside you bleeds into the most crucial moments — the moments when you’re supposed to stay focused instead of silently wallowing in your situation.

“Need help, prez?”

Ripped from your daze, you lift your gaze to the voice beside you, only now realizing that he’s been sitting next to you since the start of the lecture — completely unnoticed, completely ignored.

It’s Satoru, his laptop open in front of him, a small, friendly smile turned toward you—and only you. That tiny detail sends a strange, foreign wave through your stomach — not unpleasant, though.

“Oh, you’re here,” you mumble, turning your attention back to the professor.

“Since the very start, yes,” he replies, his voice softer now, tinged with a faint hint of disappointment as he twirls his pencil between his long, nimble fingers.

A silence settles between you, neither of you seeming inclined to break it.

In the lecture hall, only the sound of keyboards clicking and the amplified voice of the professor fill the large room. You try your best to follow along, scribbling notes as diligently as you can, but at this point, it feels like trying to form words by randomly pressing keys — you understand nothing.

“Need help?”

You slowly lift your head toward the familiar voice.

“You can explain it to me later, you know?” you mutter, careful not to let anyone else overhear your conversation — it could cost you.

“And we could save time by explaining it now.” His tone is soft, rational, kind, altruistic — every synonym that embodies maturity and gentle responsibility.

He’s made of sugar. Just for you.

You sigh, finally giving in with a nod, as Satoru flips his laptop into tablet mode to explain the purpose of the chapter — the name of which you’ve only just learned, despite an hour and a half of lecture on Wave-Particle Duality.

“So,” he says, writing the formula on his tablet with a stylus. “The general concept is quite easy. Quantum objects — like electrons — can act as both particles and waves, okay?”

You nod, leaning in closer to his shoulder to observe the definitions of the formula’s terms — a faint scent brushes against your senses. Clean laundry and a subtle drop of cologne. The scent imprints itself in your lungs pleasantly enough that you have to mentally slap yourself to keep from getting distracted from Satoru’s explanations.

He glances at you with those sharp blue eyes and raises an eyebrow. “You know what wavelength means?”

“It’s just for light, right?”

He snorts quietly. “Particles.”

“Oh.”

He holds back another laugh and continues his explanations.

Several minutes later, you find your eyes glued — no, entranced — by Satoru, this nerd with glasses that hide a brain far too brilliant for you. Maybe even for the entire university.

You notice it in everything he does — setting aside his physical appearance, which you’re starting to find cuter and cuter without even realizing it — every cell of his body breathes science, logic, the thirst for discovery. His brain analyzes every possibility, his fingers manipulate rationality, and his glasses help him weigh the pros and cons. His long, straight nose gives him an infallible instinct, a sixth sense that never fails, and his smile — his pretty, thin, pink lips—illuminate hypotheses with a dangerously innocent charm.

But he himself doesn’t even realize it.

“See? It’s like… imagine if you could be both a super serious president and a total mess at physics at the same time. Oh wait — that’s already happening,” he teases, a playful, cute smile blooming on his lips as he glances at you with sparkles in his eyes.

Oh, that damn smile.

And without meaning to, you join in his laughter, covering your mouth with your palm so as not to be heard as, for the first time in weeks, a weight is lifted from your shoulders. The little analogy that might have irritated you a few days ago seems silly to you. Why do it when he’s here?

The bell rings, announcing the end of class, and the hubbub of the students urges you to put your things away as much as possible before the teacher gives you more homework than you already have just to understand the lecture.

With your bag slung over your shoulder, you make your way towards the exit, at the end of the herd of students who have made you lose sight of Satoru. A little disappointment contracts your heart, but after all, why should he be waiting for you? There was no need. You’re not friends. Just two students who are nice to each other (well, mostly Satoru).

So as you walk out of the lecture hall, you almost come face to face with a 6’3. Your nose collides painfully with a hard, bumpy surface — wait, of abs?

Impossible.

A hand much larger than yours wraps around your elbow to steady you and meets your eyes down on your wincing face.

“Oops, sorry,” Satoru apologizes as his smile evaporates. “Are you okay? I just wanted to wait for you.”

Was it abs?

“No worries, I'm fine,” you assure with a smile as self-conscious as it is forced, one hand rubbing your sore nose. “That's sweet.” Then you look away to calm the blush that spreads like a puddle from your neck to your scalp and pray it's unseen.

“You sure?” he insists with a concerned frown.

“...Sure.”

Once your face has cooled, your eyes stare at the spot on his torso where your nose collided. That flat spot under the shirt that appears a little less to you now, seen up close. It's as if with every swell of his breath, you can see the beginnings of an abdominal bulge, but you shake your head to get this far-fetched idea out of your head.

Letting your hand fall back, you offer him a more confident smile and lead the way. “Shall we?”

With a slower nod, he follows you.

To bridge the silence between the two of you in the deserted corridors, you nudge him in the ribs and say, “You know, I still don’t get how you find physics fun.”

He feigns pain and smirks — does he only smile when he’s with you?

“I don’t find it fun, strictly speaking, but really very interesting. At least, enough to make me face my major.” He pauses to give you a teasing look. “And I still don’t get how you survive on four hours of sleep.”

“I am a vampire,” you grin stupidly, “I love working at night. I feel productive.”

“I see that. Your bags speak for you,” he chortles.

“For real?” you mouth, running your fingers over your dark circles as if to check his words when it makes more sense to look in the mirror rather than feel you up.

“Just joking,” he murmurs, dropping his gaze on the floor a second before looking up back at you. “But you seem very stressed lately, am I wrong?”

You don’t answer right away, reluctant to tell him about your doubts and what’s been bothering you for weeks. But you can. This is just two friends from the same quantum physics class strolling around campus at the end of a long day, isn’t it?

But maybe not close enough for him to be really interested in you? Maybe he’s just asking questions out of politeness and not out of any real concern for you. After all, you’re not really close.

“It's alright, just uni and student council stuff, as always,” you murmur with averted eyes. “We also need to plan our next tutoring session.”

“Yeah...” Satoru shoves his hands in his pockets and lets silence fill the gap between the two of you before resuming. “Maybe we could do it somewhere else this time, couldn’t we?” he offers without much hope in his voice.

You knit your brows. “What?”

“I mean... do you—uh, never mind.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Huh?”

He seems to chicken out and look away but you catch it before he could hide it — the tips of his ears are red.

“Nothing. Just... you’re really into this whole Spring Formal thing, huh?” he mumbles.

“Of course. I have a lot of work to do on it. But what were you asking me?” you insist with a softer tone and your hand wrapping around his arm — remarkably built, you note internally.

He finally twists his neck toward you to face you, lips pursed into a conflicted pout.

“You’re going to refuse.”

“You didn’t even try to ask,” you almost in a mid gasp and chuckle.

He runs a hand through his tousled snowy hair, then slips it around the back of his neck, rubbing it like a nervous tic. “I see that you’re stressed — even if you deny it. So would you accept to... maybe do work on our tutoring lessons in a better place?” He panics slightly under your unfathomable gaze, just waiting for the next part of his words. “I mean... I know a place where it could be less stressful and more relaxing because you deserve it... But of course,” he adds hastily, “it doesn’t commit you to anything and you don’t have to accept and we can totally carry on doing it at the library because really it’s just a stupid idea and I should just keep my mouth shut—”

“Satoru.”

His heart stops beating and he thinks his brain has short-circuited as he realizes it’s the first time you've said his first name in that tone.

Softly, reassuringly, and with obvious joy.

“Of course I’d like to work with you somewhere else. It means a lot to me that you thought of me like that,” you say softly as you stop in front of some stairs so you can look him straight in the eye. “I can give you my phone number and you’ll just have to send me the address, how’s that?”

Okay. His brain really has just short-circuited.

He doesn’t even remember how he managed to hand you his phone and record your number, wish you a good evening and return to his dormitory after being subjected to your beaming smile — of a particular radiance he’s never seen before on your face in all the time, however long, he’s spent gazing at you wherever you are — radiant even.

Lying on his bed, he stares at the ceiling. The silent night allows his thoughts to grow louder, as if several were trying to express themselves at once.

However, one image takes root in his eyelids when he closes them before sleeping.

You.

~~~~

“You shouldn’t have.”

“Do you really need to make this even more embarrassing?”

You shake your head. “It’s not fair.”

His features sag, and he lets out a tiny sigh. “Just please, accept it. I made it for you.”

At your feet lies a picnic blanket with red and white checkered patterns. On top of it are homemade sandwiches, cans of fruit juice, berries, cakes, and even a tub of ice cream resting inside a mini cooler. Satoru has even arranged the space to avoid a chaotic mess while working and has brought ultra-comfortable cushions to make the tutoring session as pleasant as possible.

He can’t do this.

Not with you, who arrived at the quiet, sparsely crowded city park, right under the most magnificent Japanese cherry blossom tree.

The cool breeze blows gently around you both, sweeping away a few strands of your hair that you’re forced to tuck behind your ears.

“Sit your ass down,” Satoru mumbles, looking away to hide an obvious embarrassment, though his hand pats the empty space he left just for you.

So, reluctantly, you sit cross-legged, grabbing a random sandwich — just so he won’t sulk — and try not to cry because it’s so ridiculously delicious. The berries couldn’t be fresher or juicier than any you’ve ever tasted, and not to mention the cakes he brought. The majority of the food is sweet — his sweet tooth showing up a little too obviously.

“Hope it tastes good,” he adds, his lips forming a slight pout.

“Never ate something that good,” you respond, mouth full of food. “You’re an angel.”

The word makes him freeze for a solid thirty seconds before he shakes his head and lets his gaze drift away — always avoiding — toward the nearby lake.

The ground is sprinkled with pale pink petals, blending into the vibrant green grass of this March afternoon. A few birds chirp in the distance, hardly anyone comes near your secluded spot, and the peaceful silence reigning over the park creates the perfect environment for getting work done.

Swallowing his own mochi, Satoru watches you take out your notes on the latest physics chapter, and instead of sitting across from you, he allows himself to settle beside you this time — without you pulling away.

He was hesitant from the start and may never be able to stop feeling nervous around you. No matter how often he’s around you or how much more familiar he grows with your presence, he can’t control those sudden spikes of nervousness that hit when he’s already comfortable — only for one small action or movement to give his poor little heart a crisis.

You hand him the exercises you worked on last night, and while he reviews them, you take out your planner and notepad — the ones you carry everywhere (even to bed and the bathroom)—to go over the organization of the upcoming Spring Formal.

An event that’s happening soon. An event with absolutely nothing planned yet.

You quietly jot down notes on possible themes, but after another glance at the endless, sprawling branches of the massive cherry tree, you sigh and toss your notepad aside onto the picnic blanket. No ideas in sight. You have no choice but to admit your incompetence. Your failure is inevitable.

“Here.” Satoru hands you back your corrected exercises, and you quickly scan through them.

Since the beginning of your sessions with him, you have to admit — you’ve improved.

This time, there are fewer scribbles and corrections from Satoru. Your formulas and applications are more precise, clearer, and better developed. All thanks to your hard work and Satoru’s expert guidance — the science genius himself.

There are still some non-negligible mistakes to fix, but at least the encouraging smile from your tutor warms your chest, silently telling you that you’re on the right track.

“This is really not bad,” he murmurs softly near your shoulder. “You’re seriously improving.”

“Thanks to my good tutor,” you reply, nudging him playfully with your elbow.

“What flattery. I don’t deserve this much.” Yet his so-called humility is betrayed by the deep red blush dusting his ears.

“Quite the opposite. I wish I could pay you back somehow.”

“You don’t need to. I told you it was my pleasure to help you.”

“And I feel bad about it,” you confess in a whisper.

“Don’t,” he insists — and dares to wrap his slightly trembling, warm hand over yours on the blanket.

Your heart flutters, like a butterfly trying to take flight, only to be tossed around by the wind.

“Thank you,” you whisper, with more honesty than you’ve ever given anyone.

“For being a good friend? Don’t worry, I’m glad to have you as well, honestly,” he murmurs back, punctuating his words with a light squeeze of your hand.

“And I—” he clears his throat, “...really appreciate you.”

Friends. Appreciate you.

“I appreciate you too. Really. I’m sorry if I mess up every move you try with me to help me,” you add with an apologetic smile. “Stress always ruins my life.”

“I told you that you couldn't deny it.” He raises his eyebrows and lift up an uncertain arm — seeing you not reacting has reassured him enough to pluck up the courage to pass it around you to console you. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

You let yourself go against him, burying half your face against him. “I’m in deep shit about organizing the Spring Formal. I haven’t prepared anything, I have no idea, and yet I’ve got plenty to do. Mr. Yaga warned me that he might replace me if I went on like this, and I feel like everything’s going to shit,” you say in a breath, a tiny barrier of vulnerability cracking.

His arm tightens in an attempt at comfort. He nods slowly, inhaling long breaths of fresh air before making a clicking sound with his tongue.

“Where’s your notepad?”

You hand it to him without protest, and he immediately grabs it and flips through it. Then, when he finds a blank page, he grabs a pen lying near the two of you and jots down a few sentences, the words of which you can only read when he hands you the notebook.

“An alignment of the planets?” You raise a curious, surprised eyebrow.

He nods with his chin and sketches a smile.

“It only happens in spring, practically. And there will be one before long.” He squeezes his arm around you again and chuckles. “A theme about planets might be nice, don’t you think?”

Lips parted, you gaze into the azure sky. Himself a little disarmed by your lack of reaction, he frowns without giving up his smile and softly pronounces your first name.

With zero control over your movements, there’s nothing to stop your lips from pressing tenderly against Satoru’s smooth, soft cheek — a firm but gentle kiss leaving an invisible, indelible trace on his radiant skin as you pull away to look into his eyes again.

“You're an angel,” you repeat a second time.

Well, the second time too, when Satoru’s heart, no longer knowing how to beat, simply stops beating.

~~~~

“Move them a little more to the right— Yes, that’s perfect.”

Your trusty notepad clutched against your chest, you admire the preparations unfolding in the venue for the upcoming Spring Formal, where the theme of planetary alignment is set to make this year’s university event truly unforgettable.

Finally, you’re no longer spending your time yelling at your team and barking orders fueled by the vibrant sparks of your stress. Instead, you’re giving clear instructions, each one accompanied by an encouraging smile for everyone.

“Maybe we could add midnight blue velvet curtains,” Satoru suggests, leaning over your shoulder, his chest brushing pleasantly against your back as he glances at the list of missing decoration orders. “We could stick fake stars on them, and it’ll draw more attention to the planets. What do you think?”

“I like the idea,” you giggle, despite the way your insides somersault when his warm breath grazes your ear, sending waves of goosebumps down your skin. You jot down a few notes as Satoru leans in even closer, gently resting his chin on your shoulder. “Not surprising, coming from the quantum physics genius of the entire university.”

Even though there’s nothing official between you — not if you ignore the feelings and trust that make Satoru more confident and relaxed in your presence — nor any concrete relationship, the warm intimacy settling between you two is anything but uncomfortable.

It’s like a mutual friendship, fully acknowledged by both of you, yet intertwined with threads of love left unspoken — often betrayed by moments of closeness like this one.

“You’re gonna make me blush again,” he admits with a light laugh, soft and delicate as a cherry blossom petal.

“Oh yeah?” You turn your head toward his — just enough for your faces to be so close that the tips of your noses brush. “Why?”

He sighs, fluttering his eyes closed for a brief moment before opening them again. “You know why…”

“I’m clueless when it comes to guessing thoughts, my hot nerd tutor,” you coo, a little grin spreading across your lips — those same lips he wanted to kiss until he couldn’t breathe anymore for the rest of his life.

“Maybe I could show you, then.” And gently, he places his hands around your waist, an easy, soothing smile on his face. “Is that okay if I do that?” After your nod, his smile grows even wider. “Also, could we do our next session at my place? I can’t stay at the library today because my mom is waiting for a package while she’s at work, so she asked me to take care of it.”

“Of course.” You take note of his suggestion while the rest of your team rushes to decorate the room and move boxes — some opened, some not. Then, you turn back to him, feeling the slight tremor of his hands against your body, the way the blood rushes alarmingly fast to his face, and how his eyes avoid yours.

“Blushing?” you giggle.

“You’re not embarrassed? I mean— It’s my place, not my dorm or the library, you know,” he mumbles.

You graze a kiss on his soft cheek and grin. “You’re freaking cute.”

“I’m not joking,” he whines lowly, a small, worried furrow forming between his brows.

“As am I.” You give his arm a little squeeze. “Everything’s gonna be alright. I don’t mind having you all alone in your house, though.”

And you burst into laughter when he chokes on his own saliva at your words — having never seen someone turn so red before.

~~~~

“I knew you liked physics, but not that much.”

Before coming to set foot in Satoru’s room for the first time, you expected to be dealing with a simple, uncluttered, organized room, and above all far more filled with bookcases overflowing with books rather than...

...the opposite.

Stepping into Satoru’s room feels like entering a nerdy galaxy of controlled chaos. His desk is cluttered with thick physics textbooks, some stacked neatly, others left open mid-read, pages filled with complex equations you can’t even begin to understand. Among them, a few manga volumes peek out, half-hidden like a guilty pleasure. Above, a whiteboard covered in messy formulas and doodles dominates the wall, the marker strokes chaotic but somehow full of purpose. His ceiling is scattered with glow-in-the-dark stars, forming actual constellations if you look closely, and a floating moon lamp sat on his nightstand, casting a soft glow over his unmade bed.

Everywhere you turn, there is something to mess with — a plasma ball that lit up at your touch, a Newton’s Cradle clicking rhythmically on his desk, even a weird futuristic clock displaying time in some incomprehensible format. His monitors hum with life, one running a sci-fi screensaver while another had what looks like a physics simulation he’d probably forgotten about. 

And yet, despite the overwhelming nerd energy, it was… comfortable. Lived-in. A place where ideas sparked and theories came to life — exactly what you could imagine his space would be if you’d thought things through a bit more.

“Wow,” you murmur, entranced. “It’s… just beautiful. Like a museum.”

“Heh? You’re flattering me really too much,” he chuckles nervously, scratching his neck where his undercut is. “But I’m glad if you like it. I want you to feel home,” he adds softly.

“Home?” You turn to him with a slightly embarrassed and moved smile. “You’re my home, actually.”

Nothing you say makes sense. Your racing heart lets your mouth babble nonsense and scare Satoru away. You’re far too embarrassing—

“I feel the same for you.”

Like a needle piercing a balloon, your vital organ explodes in your chest.

The next second, your brain regains control and orders your legs to move towards him, until your torsos brush against each other and your breaths mingle, giving birth to a gentle flame that burns only to be consumed.

Satoru whispers your name. “Can I try something?” he mouths.

You nod imperceptibly, your gaze lost in his ocean eyes.

Tenderly and with the most delicate gentleness, he cups your cheeks, tilting your head so that your face faces directly forehead to his. So close, you have a detailed view of the number of his light eyelashes, the different shades of blue mingling in his irises, the pleasant warmth of his tepid breath against you.

Then, his lips brush yours first, as if testing your reaction. But when your fingers latch onto his light-brown V-neck sweater, he feels the pressure rise in his blood and slowly, but suddenly, crushes his lips against yours.

It’s not rushed — just a soft press of lips, tentative, almost careful. As if he's afraid of breaking something fragile. So to encourage him, you sigh softly in contentment, then tilt your head the slightest bit to fit better, closer... Your hands remain gently clasped to his sweater.

He seems to get your message, because the next thing you know, he’s relaxing, moving more slowly and comfortably against yours. The world outside that moment doesn’t exist. Just him, just this — his lips, softer than you expected, the careful way he kisses you, as if he is memorizing every second of it. Time stretches thin, and even when you finally pull apart, neither of you move far.

Slowly, you open your eyes, only to find him already looking at you. His gaze is different now — quieter, warmer, like he is seeing you in a way he never had before.

For a moment, neither of you speak. The silence is soft, not awkward, filled with a kind of understanding that doesn’t need words. And then, just barely above a whisper, Satoru exhales a quiet, shaky laugh.

“Oh.”

Just that — like he hasn’t expected this, like he’s still processing the fact that it happened at all. And maybe it’s the way he looks at you, stunned and a little breathless, or maybe it’s just the warmth still lingering between you, but you find yourself smiling, a tiny, barely-there curve of your lips.

“Yeah,” you murmur back, voice quieter and warmer than you intended.

Neither of you moved away. Not yet.

You lower your head, a hot flush creeping up your cheeks and neck, and that's when you also understand where his “oh” is coming from.

Oh.

While he turns away to hide his face in his hands and prays to be buried in a grave on the spot, you burst out laughing — a frank, non-judgmental laugh. Simply savoring this pleasant moment with him (albeit with one small problem).

“Just with a kiss? Satoru, I swear you’re the cutest!” you continue to laugh, half-folding with your arms hugging your belly.

“It’s not f-funny!” And the poor guy doesn’t even dare turn around as he adjusts his pants, which is where his “problem” lies.

Smiling, you move closer to him, your lips still prickling from the perfect kiss. One of your hands slips to his shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he mumbles, hiding his face again from your sight.

“It is,” you insist, wrapping your hand around his wrist to look at him. “I’m not judging you, I swear. It’s not like you can control that, is it?”

“I know, but— It’s so embarrassing. I feel like a poor virgin nerd that — well, It’s not like I am not but—”

You freeze, slowly losing your smile. “Wait… you’re a virgin?”

He nods, a little shameful pout creasing his lips.

“I—” you trail off. Taking a short breath, you lower yourself a little more to look at him as he covers his crotch with one hand. “I can help you with that, you know.”

His eyes widen, heart hammering in his rib cage. “W-What?”

An umpteenth laugh shakes your chest. “I mean, yeah. I don’t mind and I like you.” Then an idea pops into your head, like a lamp regaining its light. “Like, it would make up for the effort you put into helping me get good grades. What do you think?”

He straightens abruptly and gently but firmly pushes your hand away by the wrist. A serious look despite his embrace adds.

“No way. I already told you I don’t want anything in return.”

“But it’s just to please you,” you insist, flickering your eyes. “Don’t you want to know how it feels?” You take a few steps forward until you can wrap your arms around his perfect torso — the ideal balance of slim and muscular.

Your chin rests on his breastbone, a little imploring pout on your lips.

“C’mon, just an oral, I promise. I want to return the favor.”

He swallows hard, lips parted as if the words are stuck somewhere between embarrassment and want. His gaze flickers between your face and the floor, a mix of reluctance and curiosity in his eyes.

“But I—” His voice cracks slightly, a nervous laugh escaping him. “I don’t know what I’m doing…”

You smile, a quiet, knowing smile, and slide your fingers slowly down his arm, your touch lingering on his skin. “It’s okay,” you say, your breath barely above a whisper. “I’ll guide you.”

You can see him shiver at the words, his chest rising and falling rapidly. You take your time, moving in closer, making sure to leave no space between you. Your lips brush against his jaw, a delicate kiss that makes his entire body stiffen for a split second. He doesn’t pull away, though, and that’s enough to encourage you to go further.

“Just relax,” you tease, pulling back slightly to look up at him. “I promise I’m not going to bite.”

“I know, I just need to sit a bit,” he whispers, a wave of uncertainty in his eyes.

You pull away from him, feeling the palpable tension between the two of you. “Of course.” You take his hand in yours and guide him onto his bed. When he sits down on the mattress, you find yourself kneeling between his legs.

As your hands busily unzip his straight gray twill pants, you maintain eye contact. “Tell me if it’s too much or if you wanna stop, okay love?”

Love.

He nods gently, his elbows pressed into the softness of the mattress to get a view of your movements without him lying down completely. Lips trembling, Satoru feels obliged to bite them to calm himself as the heat almost suffocates him while all he has left is his boxer shorts hiding his growing erection under the thin fabric.

You can feel the air thickening between you, charged with the kind of quiet intensity that makes your pulse race. Your fingertips wrap around the waistband of his boxers and tug them down gently, letting the fabric rub against his length while he’s hissing.

“Sweetheart—”

“Relax, I’m just getting started,” you chuckle fondly.

When the underwear is pulled down, his erection springs free, slamming on his half-covered abdomen. The poor little thing, left alone, twitches painfully — dragging sounds like cute and innocent whimpers from Satoru — like it’s begging for your touch for a decade.

You curl your lips together, genuinely stunned by his size. 7 inches isn’t nothing.

“So you’re packing this from the start?”

“I— No…” He sighs, clenching his jaw as his eyes flutter closed. “Please, it’s already embarrassing.”

“But why? You’re beautiful, Satoru. And I’m not talking about your dick,” you snort. Your gentle, affectionate tone makes Satoru forget how to breathe and open his eyes again. “You’re beautiful on the inside too.”

“You’re only flattering—”

“I am not,” you state firmly, getting up from your knees to straddle his hips and cup his cheeks until they puff like mochi’s and he’s pouting.

Fucking adorable.

“Have you ever been into a relationship?” you whisper after pecking a kiss on the corner of his lips.

He shakes his head, stuttering a no.

“So  can I call you mine? Because I’d be yours if I could,” you mutter next to his jaw where you peck another kiss that makes him shiver and grip your hips with his hands.

He opens his mouth to say something and hesitates. “A-Are you sure?” he asks, eyes filled with doubt. ‘I’m a nerd and—”

“And my type is nerd guys,” you cut him off before pulling him into a passionate kiss. He gasps, tightening his grip on your as his lips gently taste your and steal his breath away. “I love you, Satoru.”

“Love you more. Since the first time I laid my eyes on you,” he murmurs back between kisses, eyelids shut.

You slightly pull away, a smile springing to your lips. “Pinning on me for so long? Aw, sorry to have been blind for this long too, then.”

He resists the urge to take you in his arms and lets you back down onto your knees, this time with his oversensitive cock throbbing in your hands as you begin to stroke it up and down, base to tip with all the slowness you can manage so as not to make him cum too quickly.

Satoru’s hips jerk up instantly, his chest rising and lowering because of his stuttering breath.

“Your hands feel so good and soft,” he whispers, sliding his big hands up to your shoulders, which he gently massages to relax you too. What a gentleman. “So much better than mine…”

“Yeah? You like it?” Eager to please him for his first time, you place a kiss on his angry red tip, licking a little strop with the tip of your own tongue.

“Hgn— easy,” he pants, hands shaking slightly as they interrupt their massages on your shoulders when yours lead them on your head, tangled with your locks. “What are you—”

“You can use my hair, if you want.” And you punctuate your words by taking his length back between your hands and kiss the fat head. It twitches in response, stealing little giggles from your sweet lips. Beads of precum leak along his length, helping you to wet him enough to stroke him faster as you part your lips and slide them down the length of him.

Satoru’s breath hitches when you take him, sucking in slow, deep strokes as your hand grips the base of him. You pull back slightly, your lips sliding back up, and you hear him groan, a sound that makes you ache. You repeat the motion, taking him deeper, sucking harder as you run your tongue along the underside of his cock, feeling him twitch in your mouth before you pull back again.

“Feel good?” you ask sweetly.

“You’re perfect,” he breathes out — even whimpering in neediness, “thank you so much…” His hands tighten in your hair, pulling you even closer, but it’s not enough.

You don’t stop. Instead, you take him deeper, your lips tightening around him as you move faster, the sound of your mouth on his cock filling the room, drowning out everything else. Satoru’s breath grows shallow, irregular, his body starting to tense, his legs flexing as he tries to hold back.

But you can feel it. The way he is so close, the way his body is winding tighter with every flick of your tongue. His fingers pulled at your hair, unsure to guide you just how he wants because what you were doing is already something he’ll owe you all his entire life — he is desperate, needing his release.

“F-Fuck,” he stutters, fingers digging in your scalp deliciously for you pleasure. “I love you, but please, g’nna—”

“—cum? Yeah, do it, love,” you purr affectionately as you teasingly suck his sensitive tip until he’s whining and fighting for his hips to not thrust up and hurt you.

He is there — at the edge — his cock twitching in your mouth, and you know he can’t hold on much longer. With one last deep, slow pull, he cums, his hips jerking as he releases into your mouth with a long, desperate groan. You swallow every drop, sucking him clean, your hands gently massaging his thighs as he slowly comes down from the high.

Satoru’s breath is ragged, his body shuddering as he slowly opens his eyes. He looks at you like you’re some sort of angel from heaven, and you smile, wiping the corner of your mouth before standing up.

“Feel better?” you ask teasingly, your voice light despite the heat still pooling in your stomach.

He sighs deeply, rubbing his eyes before carefully sitting up and hugs you in a tight embrace. He blows kisses all over your face, murmuring thank yous and how much he loves you and you find yourself in awe.

“You’re welcome, it’s the least that I can do for you, after all.” You press a big, firm, and sincere kiss on his cheek, and cannot stop smiling.

~~~~

The main room is bathed in a deep blue, soft, ambient light, the atmosphere almost otherworldly. Stars shimmer faintly on the walls, and delicate, hanging lanterns cast a stunning cold glow, like constellations scattered across the ceiling. The whole room seems alive, breathing with energy, as guests drift through the space, their laughter and chatter blending into a gentle hum.

At the center of the hall are huge telescopes, available for anyone curious enough to observe tonight’s planet alignment. The most important event of the Spring Formal.

Around the perimeter, tables are set with shimmering candles, their flames flickering softly, casting shadows on the faces of the students who’ve come to admire the setup. The smell of roses and lavender lingers in the air, mixing with the faint scent of freshly baked treats at the snack table. It feels like a dream — a celebration of the night sky brought to life.

Satoru stands beside you, his hand lightly brushing against yours as you both take in the beauty of the room. His smile is small but warm, his gaze drifting from the decorations to the crowd. There’s an unspoken pride in the way he looks at you, knowing you had a hand in making all of this happen, bringing the theme of the planets to life with such care.

“This is... perfect,” he says, voice soft but full of admiration. His words are simple, but they carry weight. You feel a soft warmth settle in your chest at the sincerity in his tone.

A small smile blooms on your lips. “Yeah…” you agree, turning to face him fully, now a grin spreading across your face. “It really turned out great. Thanks to you.”

His cheeks tint pink at the praise, and he shrugs, trying to act nonchalant, but the pride in his eyes is unmistakable.

“You really made this all come together,” he says, voice full of admiration. “It’s amazing.”

For a moment, you simply smile at each other, a comfortable silence settling between you. The warmth of his gaze makes your heart flutter in your chest.

“Want to dance?” you ask, already knowing his answer, but wanting to ask all the same.

He hesitates for a moment, that same shy, unsure side of him creeping back, but the smile on his lips says everything.

“Yeah,” he says, his hand finding yours once again, this time with more confidence. “I’d love to.”

As you both step onto the dance floor, the lights change again, and for a moment, the two of you are surrounded by the glow of the stars and lanterns, your bodies moving to the soft music that fills the room. It’s not a fast, frantic dance — just slow and gentle, like you’re in your own little world. You feel the gentle sway of the music, and the weight of everything around you fades, leaving just the two of you in perfect harmony.

Maybe it’s the magic of the planets aligning, or maybe it’s just him — but either way, you think, you wouldn’t mind orbiting around Gojo Satoru a little longer.

a/n: there we go! I AM DRAINED BC OF SCHOOL AND COURSES GUIDANCE BC LAW IS SO HARDDDD!! hum hum, beside that, i hope you guys had a nice week and that you are all taking care of your little faces (if not i'm gonna do it for you). writing this felt like... refreshing? i mean, nerdjo is the little mochi i'm eating when i go to the supermarket lol. and gosh, he's so cute that i'm going crazy haha.

reblogs, comments, and likes are very appreciated as always <3

also, this is how i pictured this cutie pie:

tags: @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422 @drippymcdrippison @koshhin @v31v3t @wisheclairr @sanemistar @monokaix

Nerd gojo x nerd reader headcanons pt 3

_Part 2_

Nerdjo! X nerdreader! Lmao guys I don't know it takes time to think for a scenario for nerd gojo!

♡ Gojo, the hopeless overthinker-After catching you reading a book on quantum mechanics, he stares at you for an entire class.

His mind is in overdrive.

“What does she know that I don’t?”

You glance up from your book and notice him staring.

Your expression doesn’t change, just a slight raise of the brow.

He starts questioning reality. He wonders if maybe you’re an alien who landed to study humans.

He’s not sure if he’s scared or in awe.

♡ Gojo, the performance artist-He’s in class, casually tossing out random knowledge to impress everyone.

You’re sitting right next to him, completely unfazed.

He throws out an elaborate theory about space-time continuums.

You glance at him, and in that cool, calculated tone of yours, you say, “Actually, there’s a counter-theory that suggests…”

He’s frozen stunned.

You just corrected him.

He’s in shock. He didn’t even realize there was a counter-theory.

♡ Gojo, the never-satisfied challenger-It’s become a ritual now. He challenges you to random things just to get a reaction.

One day, he walks into the library where you’re reading again and says, “I bet you can’t solve this one faster than me.”

You just stare at him like he's a child.

He watches you effortlessly solve the puzzle in seconds.

His brain breaks.

“Okay… you win. Again.”

He mumbles it like he’s been defeated, even though you both know he never stood a chance.

You just blink, your face a mask of indifference.

♡ Gojo, the insufferable over-achiever-He throws a math challenge your way in class, but it’s no longer about the challenge.

It’s about getting you to look up at him.

When you solve it in seconds, he pretends to be devastated.

“How… How do you do it?!”

You don’t even flinch. You just mutter, “It’s all about applying basic principles, Gojo.”

He finds it so frustrating but can’t help but admire you for it.

This feeling of being outmatched starts to gnaw at him, but it excites him too.

♡ Gojo, the dumbstruck fool-One day, he just can’t take it anymore. He watches you at lunch, reading your book with so much focus.

He interrupts your concentration with a dramatic gesture, throwing his arms out.

“You can’t possibly be that focused!”

You look up, raise an eyebrow, and say, “Well, Gojo, focusing is a part of my natural process of learning. You should try it sometime.”

His jaw drops.

The fact that you just casually insulted him makes him both irritated and in love at the same time.

♡ Gojo, the unintentional simp-He’s in class, trying to act all cool and aloof, but his eyes are constantly shifting to where you’re sitting.

You never seem to notice.

He can’t stop thinking about how you’re always so calm, always so collected.

One day, he catches himself staring at you for way too long.

His heart skips a beat when you finally look up and catch his gaze.

You don’t say anything. You don’t even smile.

But the look in your eyes… it makes his heart race.

He looks away like a fool, muttering under his breath. “What the hell is happening to me?”

♡ Gojo, the clingy puppy-He shows up to the library one day to find you reading, of course.

He’s spent the last few hours thinking of ways to get your attention.

He plops down next to you.

“Hey, Y/N, what are you reading?”

You glance at him for a second and say, “A book on theoretical physics.”

He stares at you, unblinking. “Sounds boring.”

You stare back, saying nothing, then go back to reading.

He can’t help himself anymore he leans over and practically whispers in your ear,

“I think you’re kinda cool, you know?”

Your response is the most distracting part of his life.

You don’t even look up. “And I think you should stop distracting me.”

♡ Gojo, the underestimator-He once convinced himself that he could outwit you in everything.

So when the next mission is announced, he’s all cocky about it.

“I’ve got this in the bag. No one’s a better strategist than me.”

But when the team assembles to discuss the mission, you outshine him with every point you bring up.

“You didn’t consider the potential outcomes of that tactic, Gojo.”

His face turns bright red. He tries to play it cool, but you’ve already won this round.

He’s still muttering about it later, trying to convince himself that it was just a fluke.

But deep down, he’s starting to see you as more than just his rival.

♡ Gojo, the frustrated genius-He’s notorious for his smug attitude, his self-proclaimed genius status.

But you, Y/N, have officially cracked the code.

He’s secretly obsessed with trying to figure you out.

There’s no logic in his mind to explain why he can’t stop thinking about you.

He finds himself watching you from afar, wondering if he could ever measure up to your calm intellect.

“Why does she have to be so perfect?” he thinks, but only when he’s alone.

The thought torments him and keeps him up at night.

♡ Gojo, the declaration of affection-One evening, after yet another failed attempt at getting your attention, he stands in front of you.

The usual smirk is gone.

“I think… I think I like you.”

You blink.

He’s waiting for you to say something clever, to shut him down.

But you don’t.

You just stare at him with that unreadable expression.

“Yeah, I know,” you finally say, casually flipping through your book.

He’s left speechless, heart racing in a way he’s never felt before.

The realization hits him hard. You’re so far above him, and yet, he’s already in too deep.

♡ Gojo, the love-struck fool-He can’t help it. No matter how much he tries to deny it, he’s falling for you.

Every interaction, every glance, every indifferent comment you make only makes him more obsessed with you.

But he’s Gojo Satoru, and he’s never been the type to give up so easily.

He’s decided.

He’s going to make you notice him.

No matter how hard it gets, no matter how impossible it feels,

He’s going to win this challenge.

And it’s going to be the best battle of his life.

@syrooo @11v1ngzomble @dekusdante @inoluvrr @hel1nn

when they’re hanging out with another girl

featuring katsuki, izuku, shoto, eijiro, denki, hitoshi, neito, dabi (toya)

decided to add in toya and neito to this smau bc why not?? i love them anyway :D also should i start writing for toya??

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 ✮˚.⋆

chuuya *yapping about his day*

dazai *falling for him all over again*

all credits to the original artist @perdizzion on X, ig & tumblr

fratboy!satoru having a crush on you is kinda like burning your hand on a hot stove.

it sucks.

satoru is cocky in all meanings of the word. he’s constantly on top of tables, playing beer pong, or dangling and swinging from the chandelier in the frat house that is still up by the grace of God.

yet somehow, despite walking into class 25 minutes late and complaining about his hangover for the rest of your hour long class, he still maintains nearly perfect grades.

every girl has a crush on him, or thinks he’s the scum of the earth. every guy wants to be him and he knows this. he carries himself with such confidence that it’s not hard to see why he’s so popular.

and then there’s you.

you applied to this prestigious college in hopes of getting your degree and getting the hell out of there the first chance you got. somehow, you got in and are now dedicated to spending your next 5 years stuck in this school

and stuck with satoru.

he comes from a family of immense wealth. you were pretty sure he didn’t even need to go to college or have a job, and yet here he was in all his douchebaggy glory. everytime he walked past girls would giggle and guys would grumble

but he was focused on you.

you never made a noise when he walked past, never even looked up from the dumb tiktok’s you were watching on your phone. even when he made a spectacle in class, you wouldn’t even spare him a giggle or an eye roll. to you, it was like he didn’t even exist.

your lack of presence had somehow caught his eye, and through the flood of people that he saw everyday, he was stuck on you.

-

“i literally don’t get it.” satoru grumbled into his pillow as his roommate, suguru, rolled his eyes for the trillionth time.

“why do you care so much? it’s not like the flood of girls nipping at your heels is gonna go dry anytime soon.” suguru massaged the temples on his head, desperately trying to relieve himself from the satoru induced migraine

“it’s different! i want an eyeroll, a scoff, something!” satoru flops over on his back and looks to his roommate

“you’re annoyed because she doesn’t acknowledge your existence?”

“exactly!”

“narcissist.” satoru groaned at his roommate and pouted into his pillow once again.

“your just salty your bumble date ghosted you.” satoru claimed, and quickly retracted as a pillow was throw at his head.

-

the next class you had early in the morning made you groan as you sat down and opened your bag to grab your computer.

“is this seat taken?” your head snaps up while you meet bright blue eyes, although they were covered by dark sunglasses.

you whip your head around to the plethora of empty seats, even the ones in the back held no one, which was a miracle in itself.

“uhm, no?” you scooped up some of your items to make room for the lengthy boy as he sat down next to you. he leaned his head on his hand as he eyed you up and down.

“i don’t believe we’ve met. i’m satoru gojo, although you can just call me satoru, gorgeous.” he had a cocky grin on his face, sure that he was being charming by extending the pleasure of calling him by his name to you and by the slightest compliment.

“yeah, okay.” you nodded slightly, praying to whatever God would listen that he’d just leave you alone. his smile faltered at your dismissive tone, although he was far from done playing with you.

“what are you majoring in?” his eyes were still fixed on you, as if some omnipotent creature was whispering all the ways to make you tick, and he was listening as if it were scripture.

you rolled your eyes and spared him a glance although lacked a response as you continued to furiously type the paper that was due for this class.

after that blatant dismissal, he tried everything.

a large, very expensive looking bouquet by your dorm? he found them in the dumpster the next morning. causing a ruckus in the quad? you walked past him as if he were trash on the sidewalk. a pyramid of redbulls inside your dorm (how’d he get in?) was found in a donation box for other students who were struggling. nothing he did could ever catch your eye.

although he didn’t know the flowers you got him made you violently sneeze, so they were a hazard to keep in your living space. he didn’t know that the day he tackled suguru in the quad with the prayer of a fleeting glance, you were to focused on the mid term that was worth half your grade. the redbulls he left in your dorm just happened to be your least favorite flavor, and it probably was t healthy to drink all of those yourself. it wasn’t that you were purposely ignoring him, you just genuinely didn’t notice his foolish antics were to get your attention.

-

it wasn’t until the end of the year that satoru finally snapped.

he found you in the library, surrounded by books and half drunken iced coffee. you looked different from the girls that usually followed him. not bad different, but raw. real.

you didn’t notice him until his shadow blocked the flow of light that illuminated your books.

you looked up, sighing slightly before pulling out and earbud

“if this is about the flowers, i’m allergic-“

“get up.” his tone was different from the cocky frat boy you knew. he was nervous. nervous in your presence, nervous in the line of your sight. he looked like and insecure school boy finally talking to his crush

“excuse me?” you watched as he scooped up the books and carefully shoved them into your bag, pulling your chair out while you were still sat in it.

“i wanna talk.” he pulled you by your wrist, still holding your backpack as he made a dash for the exit

“we can’t just talk here?” your feet were clumsy following the man in front of you, considering he was a good foot taller that you.

“it’s important, just…” he paused, the words fluttered on his tounge but he bit back before it all came rushing out. “please.”

that shut you up.

he rounded the corner and shoved open the door to a long forgotten stair well.

gojo crossed his arms, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, exposing the frustration flickering in those icey eyes. “what is your deal with me?”

you blinked.

“huh?”

“i’ve tried everything. everything,” he said, voice sharper than his usual smooth tone. “you ignore me like i’m background noise. like i don’t even exist.”

you stared, silent, waiting.

“i mean, do you hate me? did i do something? am I just some frat idiot to you?” he ran a hand through his hair, pacing now. “you’re driving me insane and you don’t even care.”

“i do notice you, satoru.” his real name being slipped on your tounge caused his pacing to falter.

for the first time all year, you saw him. rough around the edges, and slightly insecure. he wasn’t satoru gojo, heir to a fortune many couldn’t comprehend and a total douchebag

he was just… satoru. a boy who didn’t know how to get the attention of someone like you without using elementary tactics.

“you don’t have to do anything dramatic to catch my eye. you don’t have to make small talk about stupid shit to get me to talk to you.”

“i see you, satoru. every over the top stunt, every weird little performance. i’ve seen it all. but the guy who leaves flowers im allergic too in front of my dorm to get attention?” you stood slowly, eyes locking with his. “that’s not who i’m interested in.”

he swallowed. “then who are you interested in?”

you leaned in just enough for your voice to hit him low and clear.

“the real you, whoever that is. it’s up to you to figure that out.”

and then you left him there, quiet for the first time in a long time.

-

the next time you saw satoru, he was just as nervous as last time. his eyes weren’t covered by his glasses and you swore you could see a glimmer of sweat drip down his forehead as he met you for the first class of the day.

“for you.” he held out a small iced coffee, the same one you had ordered for your impromptu study trip in the library.

he had memorized it.

in the small moment he saw to remember it, he had got it perfect.

“no flowers, no stupid tricks. just me.” you smiled as he handed it to you, the condensation on the cup making your hands cold and wet, but you didn’t mind.

“you remembered,” you said.

“ive been paying attention. even if you weren’t.”

you studied him. for once, he didn’t try to fill the silence. he just looked at you. nervous, hopeful, real.

and maybe he was still a little ridiculous. still loud, still dramatic in ways he couldn’t fully shake. but under all of that… there was something honest. something kind.

and maybe that was who satoru was all along.

“your still a frat idiot, satoru.”

“i’m your frat idiot.”

is this guy bothering you

bakugo x fem!reader

You and your sweet boyfriend were out at the mall as you looked around window shopping, pointing out cute plushies you found soft, or clothes that you thought was adorable.

Bakugo gave his opinions here and there, mostly just content holding you close as you gushed about new items.

His hand low on your waist, making sure you didn't run off. His thumb caressing you every now and then, a silent reminder that he had you.

The two of you were an odd but perfect sight.

A broody boyfriend that loomed over you as you shopped through all sorts of girly stores, and the ditzy sweet girlfriend that led him through wracks of skirts and shoes, your small heels clicking as you walked.

Everyone could tell that he loved you, his arm littered with shopping bags. The only thing in your hand other than the clothes you were checking out was your small hand bag, stacked with all types of keychains and accessories.

The two of you stopped at the food court, your boyfriend forcing you to eat something other than the small breakfast you had hours ago.

He smirked at the small pout that adorned your glossy lips, your arms crossed as you clicked away at your phone. Your pout turning into a bashful smile as he pecked your lips, leaving to stand in line to order.

Distracted by your phone camera, too busy taking selfies to realize a group of boys were coming up to your table. The sound of the metal chair scraping drawing your attention.

"What'd you get me-" You said, only to stop mid sentence, a look of confusion crossing your face as you stared at a random group of boys sitting in front of you. "Can I help you?" You asked, your tone standoffish as you gripped your phone.

"What's a sweet thing like you doing here all by yourself" The guy on the right said, his tone supposed to sound flirty but instead sounded predatory.

You have a quick glance to your boyfriend's figure, seeing his back turned to you as he gave the cashier your order. "Um, I'm actually here with my boyfriend." You stated hesitantly, your eyes flickering to all three of them.

Their gazes locked on you as they invaded your personal space, leaning on the table to get a closer look at you. "Well I don't see him around" The one of the left said, smirking as if he caught you in a lie.

"I'm not lying! He's the blonde one right over there!" You huffed, your voice getting desperate as you pointed your manicured finger at Bakugo's back.

To your dismay the trio of boys started laughing, their heads turning between you and Bakugo. "Him? The one who looks like he'd rather kick rocks than be in a mall," one of them laughed, gripping his friend's shoulder for support. "You could have picked a better lie than that, especially with Blondie over there as your coverup." The other rolled his eyes.

The boys kept joking as you tried to send brain signals to your boyfriend. They must've been strong because right as one of the guys went to grab your wrist Bakugo turned around, his eyes turning sharp as he spotted the strangers surrounding you.

Ignoring the worker calling his order, Bakugo marched towards where you were sitting, his footsteps getting louder as he approached.

"Why don't you be a good girl and give us your number." He heard one of them say, the boys not realizing what was looming behind them.

Your eyes widened slightly, the sparkles returning to your eyes as you saw your boyfriend standing behind them menacingly.

The one with his phone hovering close to you assumed you were finally caving in, his smirk widening as he tried and sweet talk you.

But the rough feeling of someone grabbing onto the back of his shirt had him turning around. "The hell-" He said, his words coming to a halt as he looked up and saw Bakugo glaring down at him.

"The fuck are you doing talking to my girl." Bakugo uttered, his tone clear as his fist clenched around the strangers shirt.

"I wasn't doing anything-" "Bullshit." Bakugo cut him off, pulling him off the chair like a rag doll.

His friends stood up, their chairs screeching as they tried to look intimidating. "We don't want any trouble man." The one of the left stated. Bakugo rolled his shoulders back, his figure standing tall while he glared at the trio. "I think you do, because here you are harassing my girl."

As they sputtered our excuses your boyfriend turned to you, his glare softening just a tad. "Did they do anything to you baby." He asked.

You shook your head, "Other than bugging me, not really." With a small nod of acknowledgment, he turned back to the guys. "You're lucky I got your ass before you could do anything." He said low and menacingly, "Or else your face would be kissing this table."

Bakugo threw his victim at one of his friends, making them scramble to catch him as they tried not to fall from impact.

Bakugo walked around the table and stood beside you, taking your hand that the stranger almost touched in his. The feeling of his warm skin on yours made you smile, "Thank you." You said, ignoring the group of boys escaping as you stared up at your knight in shinning armor.

"Shout for me next time something like this happens." He advised, helping you up as he collected your shopping bags. "Noted!" You said, nodding your head cutely as you grabbed onto his bicep.

The two of you walking back to grab your food to go, Bakugo's hand back on your waist where it belonged as he led you out of the mall.

"I can't take you anywhere." Bakugo rolled his eyes, his tone playful as he smirked at you. "It's okay, because I have my big strong boyfriend to protect me." You teased, smiling up at him as you felt his hand tighten, pulling you closer in his hold.