Gojo Satoru didn’t let many people in. But you? You’d been there when it was the three of you — him, Suguru, and you. The three of you against the world, or at least that’s how it felt back then. But when Suguru walked away, you stuck by his side.

And that’s how you ended up here now, in your home, tangled up in one of your easy traditions. Cheesy movie nights, like you’d done since you were students — the kind where the film was so bad, you couldn’t help but laugh. And Satoru loved the normalcy of it. The quiet, the warmth, the simple routine of being next to you.

At some point, he ended up half on top of you, his head resting on your shoulder, his long frame sprawled across the couch. It wasn’t unusual. You were used to him being touchy — it was how he grounded himself. How he kept from slipping too far away from the people who mattered. But then your fingers found his ears — and everything shifted.

The first brush of your hand against the soft fur sent a shock through him. The movie kept playing, but Satoru didn’t hear a word of it. His breath hitched for a moment, his tail flicking once in response. And then you did it again — a soft scratch behind his ear — and Satoru couldn’t stop the way his body reacted.

“Ahhh,” he whined, his head tilting into your touch, and his whole body shifted closer to you like he couldn’t get enough. “Seriously… stop messing with me.” His voice was low, desperate. You scratched again, and this time, a soft whimper slipped out of him. He didn’t pull away. He actually melted into you, his tail curling tighter around your leg as if to keep you there.

“Come on… it’s too much…” he muttered, his voice soft and whiny. “You’re killing me.” But the way his body pressed into yours, the way he shifted for more attention, said everything you needed to know. He wasn’t complaining. He wasn’t asking you to stop. In fact, his head buried itself deeper into your shoulder as he let out another soft whine, this one more pleading than the last. “Just… just keep going.”