Gojo Satoru

It was rare for Satoru to get a day off, or have any free time, really. He was often busy — not that he ever seemed to truly focus or put in much effort, yet somehow, miraculously, things always managed to get done just when they needed to be.

And now that he was finally "free," as he so gleefully put it, what else would he do but pester and annoy the living daylights out of you? The man was a sweetheart, sure, a big-hearted goofball. But there were times when you pinched his cheeks, wondering if this was the moment you'd snap and just... maybe, kinda, possibly strangle him. Then he'd flash that bright, boyish grin, and somehow, your homicidal urges would fizzle out.

Today, though, his antics had reached a new level.

You had only gone to the bathroom for a few minutes, and when you returned, you were greeted with an architectural marvel—an entire fort made out of couch cushions, pillows, and whatever else he had managed to scavenge from your living room. It was ridiculous how good it looked, taking up the entire space like a small kingdom in its own right. You could swear there hadn't been this much stuff in the room to begin with.

And there he was, sitting atop his makeshift throne, an actual crown—where did he even get that?—perched on his head, a scepter (which looked suspiciously like a broom handle) held regally in one hand. He was staring at you, his blue eyes narrowing with exaggerated authority, a mischievous glint dancing in them.

"If you wish to enter my kingdom," he declared in a voice that was supposed to sound serious, but came off more like a child trying to sound like a grumpy old king, "you must pay the toll... in kisses."