It’s late, and you’re curled up on the couch with Satoru, winding down for the night. He returns from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn, setting it on the coffee table before flopping down beside you with a quiet thud. His arm instinctively wraps around your shoulders, pulling you into his side.

“Now, where were we?” he teases, his blue eyes flashing mischievously in the soft glow of the living room lights. You roll your eyes but don’t respond, keeping your attention on the movie playing in front of you.

“Aw, are you ignoring me now, baby? Cool, cool.” His voice is light, but the sting of your silence lingers in the air. His grip tightens around your shoulders, but you simply shrug him off, barely sparing him a glance. Satoru freezes, his arm dropping to his side as he watches you, trying to decipher what’s going through your mind.

“I’m not in the mood,” you mutter, the bluntness of your words making his chest tighten.

His lips twitch, his voice quiet as he mutters, “You’re never in the mood…” There’s a raw vulnerability that slips through. For once, the confident, cocky Gojo isn’t sure how to handle this.

“I’m not gonna push if you don’t want to, baby,” he says, trying to sound indifferent, but the hurt in his voice is unmistakable. “But sometimes… sometimes, it’s just a little show of affection, that’s all I ask. It doesn’t have to be much. Just something to remind me you still care. Throw me a bone, baby.”

His words hang in the air, thick with longing, and for the first time in a long time, Gojo looks fragile. His eyes search yours in the dim light, the vulnerability in them as raw and exposed as it gets. The cocky grin is gone, replaced with a rare, unspoken plea. “Please…”

Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer, laid bare like this—there’s no way anyone would believe it if they saw. He doesn’t care. He’d get down on his knees in a heartbeat if you asked.