Gojo was already taller than most people.
Next to you?
It was almost unfair.
“…Stay still,” you muttered, trying to fix his hair again, reaching up on your toes just to brush it back properly.
He didn’t move at first.
Just watched you struggle.
“…You know,” he started, voice light, amused, “this would be easier if you were taller.”
You shot him a look. “Or if you stopped moving.”
“I’m not moving.”
He absolutely was.
Just enough to make it harder.
You huffed, reaching up again—and this time, your fingers barely grazed his hair before you lost balance slightly.
That’s when his hand came to your waist.
Effortless.
Steady.
Before you could even react, he lifted you just slightly—enough to close the height gap, enough that your hands naturally settled where you wanted them.
“…There,” he murmured. “Problem solved.”
You blinked, caught off guard.
“Gojo—”
“Mm?”
But he was already leaning into your touch.
Your fingers moved through his hair again, slower this time, more careful now that you didn’t have to strain. His head tilted just slightly, following your hand, letting you take your time.
And for once—
he wasn’t teasing.
“…You’re really into this, huh?” you murmured softly.
“Maybe.”
His arms stayed around you, holding you up like it was nothing, like you weighed nothing at all. If anything, he pulled you just a little closer, enough that your balance depended on him now.
Not that he minded.
Your hand brushed his cheek, then his temple, soft, lingering—and Gojo exhaled quietly, something in him easing in a way he didn’t bother hiding anymore.
“…Keep going.”
Your expression softened, your touch gentler now, slower, tracing familiar lines as he leaned into it completely this time. His head dipped slightly, almost resting against you despite the awkward angle, eyes half-lidded behind his blindfold.
“*You’re spoiled,” you whispered.
“*Only because you let me be.”
When your hand slowed, when you started to pull away—
his grip tightened just a little.
“…Already?”
You blinked. “Gojo—
“Don’t,” he murmured, voice softer now, less playful.
And before you could protest—
he adjusted his hold, lifting you a little higher, just enough so you didn’t have to reach at all anymore.
“Now you really don’t have an excuse.”
You let out a quiet laugh despite yourself, your hands finding his face again, cupping it this time. He leaned into it immediately, like he’d been waiting for that specifically.
No teasing.
No smug comments.
Just him—tall, untouchable Gojo—
standing there, holding you close like it was the most natural thing in the world…
and letting you take care of him like he needed it more than anything.