heâs sitting on the floor in front of the couch in between your legs, his head resting against your lower abdomen.
his fingers moved over the controller with practiced precision, some first person shooter game hooked up to the television.
youâre playing with his hair, absentmindedly scrolling through your phone. but you were beginning to get bored of this. it was a saturday night, and you had gone over to your boyfriends dorm expecting him to at least pay attention to you.
you got an idea.
your voice was soft, hands stilling in his hair as you spoke, âhey.â
âhm.â
âdo you wanna eat me out?â
he paused for a moment, fingers stilling on the controller, before he began to shift.
ââŠyeah.â
just like that, the game was forgotten.
GAME OVER flashed on the screen, but neither of you cared.
megumi was now kneeling in front of the couch, his face buried between your thighs as his fingers gently ran up and down your bare legs.
ângh.. like that..â you moaned, fingers entangled in his hair, gripping hard. it only egged him on further. he even quietly whimpered into your pussy as you tugged at his hair.
his tongue made your toes curl, low, raw moans tearing from your throat. he knew how to make you feel good, and he would never miss an opportunity to do so.
âf-fuck.. gonna cum- donât stop..â you whined, eyes squeezing shut, head thrown back against the couch cushions as you felt your release build.
megumi kept going, his hands gripping your thighs tight. his tongue lapped at your sweet juices, drinking in your slick like water. he moaned softly into your folds, he wasnât even touching himself, your pleasure just got him off so good.
you came with a broken cry, your hands tight in his hair. megumi didnât stop until you were shaking with overstimulation.
he pressed his cheek against your inner thigh, panting and looking up at you with that soft, puppy-eyed gaze.
his voice was quiet as he finally spoke, cheeks tinted slightly pink.
your boyfriend had been bulking for the last few weeks, and it was beginning to show. he was becoming distractingly sexy.
megumi had always been on the skinnier side. those tall scrawny arms hanging from his torso, thin calves that looked easy to snap in half. it wasnât that he wasnât strong, though. megumi had always been fit - which had been proved a million times from the way he manhandled you in bed - but now it was on another level. he actually had muscle mass. even a bit of fat tissue.
you couldnât help but stare every time you had the chance.
megumi brushing his teeth in the bathroom in the morning, black hair still messy, shorts hanging loose on his waist. back muscles accentuating under the yellow light, biceps and triceps clenching sharply as he moved. like a greek god being carved.
megumi padding across the living room, leaning down to pet his demon dog that lazily flapped its tail in satisfaction. his shirt strained against his back, bulges of muscle peeking through the fabric. nearly asking you to stare.
megumi putting on his shoes.
megumi making breakfast.
megumi doing literally fucking anything.
your favorite part was his growing pecs. as if he was swolling with feminine fertility, even though you knew it was simply the increased calories and weight training that was filling him up.
when you rode megumi, hips desperately grinding on his cock, you wasnât sure whether to stare at his tits and abs or those sharp dark eyes that pierced through you. both sights made you equally coat his shaft with a white rim, so it didnât really matter anyway.
oh, and his arms. those damn forearms, where the pale skin was just barely hiding the thick veins underneath.
especially when his large hands gripped your hips, megumiâs veins bulged through, pumping arousal and blood all across his body. he began to piston his cock up into you, making you nearly cry.
ââgumiiiii-â you moaned, hands frantically trying to grip something on his body to hold onto. to bear the pleasure he was giving you.
megumi was holding back moans as well, with the way his jaw was nearly snapping from the force his teeth were gritted together with.
âf-fuck- iâm cumming- s-shit-â were the only words he managed to grunt out before forcing his cock deep, filling your tight hole up.
warm ropes of cum painted you from the inside, the seed spilling from your pussy over to megumiâs pelvis, coating the sharp v line and the ridges of his lower abs. almost draining all the way to his navel.
hell. it was a fucking sin to have such a sexy boyfriend.
Hear me out on single mother Reader x obsessed+in love at first sight butcher Simon
You don't know him, you think, not really.
You've seen him a couple times behind the counter - large man in an apron, blond hair buzzed too short to his skull, surgical mask on his face and in the cool air of the butchery, it almost feels like you are the meat on his counter.
Stupid thought, really, probably because you haven't been resting much lately and maybe, because running from your child's father across the country is draining you of energy, money and hours of sleep.
'What can I get you?' He asks, voice vibrating through the space between the two of you invisible strings getting stroked because you have to crane your neck to look up at him, because his eyes don't blink at you as he stares, because you don't know how to ask for what you want and what do you even need-
You shake your head, stepping to the side, pretending you are still looking at the display, letting the impatient man behind you step forward so that the line can finally get moving and butcher's head tilts to the side.
Not even surprised, for some reason.
Your pride and joy sleeps on your shoulder, arms wrapped around your neck - little boy with your eyes and your nose, his hair tickling your nose when you turn your head to breathe him in, trying to calm down.
His gp has already told you that he needs to eat more meat, but apple never falls far away from the tree - a picky eater has another picky eater, because your chid positively despises red meat, refuses any duck or lamb, spits out ground meat, whining about texture and doesn't take to fish kindly either.
And money's tight this month, you chew on your lower lip, fingers wooden with anxiety coarsing through your body like electrical current.
Buzzes in your arms, already aching because your 3-year old is a growing boy, and maybe you aren't getting stronger to hold him up for hours like before when he was an infant and you could pretend you can still carry him under your heart. Keeping him safe.
"What can I get you, luv?" The low voice slithers through your stupor, so you'd look up from the display and see that the large man from before is bracing his arms on the counter, leaning forward. "Been starin' for a while. What's the plan for dinner?" He asks, and you don't know how to push down the animal's urge to back off from him immediately.
The butcher's eyes are dark and round, almost soft when his gazse is anything but.
'Cow's eyes', you think, swallowing a smile because you don't need no trouble and don't want to smile at another man to give him some bloody reason to get closer. 'If cow was a butcher, that is.'
"I'm not...sure." You say quietly, keeping your voice low and he hums, apparently not planning to pull back. "He uh...doesn't like meat much. But I need him to eat a little of it, something...just- just don't know what to try." Your lower lip wobbles and fuck, this is humiliating. But the month have been so rough and so long and you are so so tired.
"Okay." The man nods slowly, tilting his head to the right shoulder, eyes the bottomless well that you cannot get out of, thick stone of it muffling any screams. "Lad eat anythin' from meat or nothin' at all?" He clarifies, keeping his voice quiet and gratitude blooms in your chest for this small consideration.
"Uh, yeah, he..." you nod quickly, wiping tears on your shoulder hastily. "Likes chicken nuggets sometimes. In the shape of dinosaurs." You explain and the man makes a sound only adjacent to chuckle.
"Got decent chicken fillet this mornin'. Fresh." He proposes, nodding at the neatly arranged pale pink of chicken on your left. "Can coat breadcrumbs and bake 'em in the oven till golden. Should taste like nuggets."
It is so simple, so bloody easy but you have no energy to feel embarassed that you did not think of it yourself.
"I'll take two." You swallow the small shudder, because you cannot allow it while your boy's asleep. Can't risk waking him up.
"Four quid." The man nods, starting to move immediately, picking out the meat to wrap up for you and you fumble for your wallet, trying to get it out of the pocket without needing to set your child down.
The butcher huffs out air, but when you glance up at him, he is looking down on the meat he is packing for you. The only give away of his mood - eyes crinkled in the corners.
Is he smiling?
"Here you go, luv." He takes the money from you and passes you the wrapped up meat. "Let me know how it goes with the chicken." The butcher adds, not requesting but telling and you nod automatically, too glad to get it over with.
He is weird, you think. Weird, but he was nice and that's much more than you were getting in the last couple months.
Only back at your apartment when you get dinner ready, you realise something. The butcher didn't pack you two fillets. He packed four.
When you step into his shop few days later, your toddler, holding onto the bag of groceries you have in hand. "Helpin', mum" as he said to you, determined to do just that.
The bell dings above your head and the butcher emerges out of the backroom, his whole massive frame moving too quietly for someone of his size.
When he sees you and your boy, something changes in his eyes, almost eager. Anticipatory of something, when he gives you a short nod and circles the counter, leaning on it again, this time by the register, so he can see you proper.
So there is no glass between you two.
You open your mouth to greet him, only to pause realising that you don't know his name. Bloody hell, you didn't even ask it last time.
"Simon." He chimes in helpfully, eyes crinkling when you quickly nod. He is definitely smiling.
"Thank you for the last time, Simon." You smile, wide and relieved, reaching for your wallet. "But you've given us more accidentally. How much do I owe you for the extra two fillets we got last time?"
He makes a low humming sound, something satisfied passing through his eyes when he turns his head from side to side, slowly shaking it.
"Not accidental. On the house, luv." He says, glancing down at your toddler, tilting his head to the other shoulder when your son just stares up at him back. "Y'like the chicken?" Simon asks, casual and curious, not moving any closer but your baby quickly nods. Stands on his tippy toes to reach for the counter.
Breathes out 'thank u', a little shy in the face of a new person met and when you glance at Simon, his heavy shoulders sag down, dark eyes warm in a way you didn't expect.
"No problem." He says back to your son and glances back at you. "Same today, luv?"
"Uh...yeah, yeah, please." You snap out of your daze quickly and he nods, pushing himself up, suddenly towering over you. "Seems like we hit out jackpot with oven-baked chicken."
Fuck, you did not realise he will be even bigger up close.
"Breast's better today." Simon announces casually, not even looking up at you as he packs it for you just as quickly as the last time. "Same price as last time."
You are pretty sure that it should not be the same, but the big butcher sends you one glance and you promtly shut your jaws closed.
You will still be paying for the meat, so maybe it's okay if he wants to be kind to someone.
"Thank you, Simon." You tilt your head, mirroring his usual gesture without even realising when you take chicken from him. "Love, tell Simon 'bye-bye', we are leaving." You glance down at your child, currently watching Simon with rapt attention, clearly not planning to leave.
Simon huffs out 'g'bye', very obviously amused and says that he will see you later.
You don't question it. Not until you run into him in the grocery store. Then at the bakery.
Simon tilts his big head to the shoulder every time, large and tall, thick thighs wrapped in jeans that should be bursting at the seams by the looks of it.
Simon huffs 'hey, lad' at your son and breathes out 'mornin', love.", purrs 'evenin', luv' and practically savours the surprise on your face when you run into him in your apartment building when he tilts his head at you in the elevator and hold it so you can get in.
Smiles behind his surgical mask when you glance up at him and your throat bobs.
Not good for you and your kid to be all on your own. He could fix it for you, you know.
Simon nods goodbyes to you, says 'see you soon' instead of simple 'bye' and has the pleasure to watch the jump of your pulse at the base of your neck, breathing hitching.
Yeah, perhaps he should. Simon checked, there is no one with you and the laddie you haul on your hip everywhere.
You could use a hand and won't you look at that, Simon had two.
Boyfriend!Yuji who sends texts frequently. Always snapping a picture of anything he thinks you might like. Green and orange sign? "Babe look its BakuDeku!!" The characters AO3 written somewhere? "Its that website you like!" A picture of an elephant? "Is this a Meena from sing reference??"
Boyfriend!Yuji who is always down to play video games with you. Or even just watch. His ideal evening is you in bed with him, a pair of consoles and snacks. Whether it be Resident Evil or Final Fantasy, he just likes to watch you enjoy yourself while you discuss life (and Cloud Strife's arms) His favourite part is when you let him rest his head in your lap.
Boyfriend!Yuji who thinks your fangirling is adorable. He has no issue with it, even supporting your oshikatsu habits. Yes he ABSOLUTELY will buy you that new plushie. And a badge has fallen off your itabag? He'll help you find it straight away. Whenever you start rambling about them and why they are so dear to you, he smiles and happily asks questions, thinking your passion is adorable.
Boyfriend!Yuji who is always a gentleman. He ends up carrying three shopping bags, a claw machine plushie and your tote pretty much every date. All that stereotypical shoujo manga stuff? He does it and then some. In fact, he reads your shoujo manga to try and figure out how to be better and give you the experiences you've dreamed about. He ends up googling how much a cat cafe is and shamefully goes to Gojo for the money.
Boyfriend!Yuji who gets so excited when his girlfriend supports his interests. He feels like the luckiest guy on the planet, having a girl buying him figures from his favourite shonen shows, sending him phonk edits of Spiderman and helping pin up another Jennifer Lawrence poster in his room.
Boyfriend!Yuji who accidentally makes all your friends jealous. They wish for a green flag guy like him who indulges in fandom culture. He's always happy to join them on a day out to discuss whether yaoi or yuri is superior. The best part is hearing how your friends care for you.
"You're like really nice you know?"
"She really likes you. You make her happy"
"If you ever break up with her I will skin you alive. But i'm sure that won't be an issue.
Boyfriend!Yuji who only wants to see you smile.
a/n: im chronically online and yuji definitely likes phonk edits
wouldnât tell his family about you, donât get him wrong, itâs not in a Iâm ashamed of you way, but rather more of a they are extremely annoying and I donât want them to bother either of us kind of way.
So when you insist that youâre finally ready to meet his family (much to Damianâs reluctance) he has to find a way to bring you up without Bruce getting upset at the fact that his son had been keeping something so significant from him.
âFather, I was thinking it may be suitable to host a family dinner at the manor this weekend, it has been a while since our last get together, after all.â He mentions casually over his tea.
âThatâs a great idea, Iâll message the group chat and see whoâs available.â
âOh, and please remind Alfred to cook for one more â my girlfriend will be in attendance.â
Bruce just looks at him in shock and before he could even think to conjure up a reply Damian is already out the door, hastily making his way back home to you.
The sound of your feet hitting the wooden floor and stomping to the bed room kept replaying in his mind.
âFuck. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up.â Jason paced around the room, waiting for the door to open and you be there, still pissed but at least where he knows youâre safe.
âWeâre sorry the number you dialed-â
âFuck!â He throws his phone onto the couch.
It had been at least 5 hours since the initial argument. He watched as the sun got lower and lower til the moon finally reached the right above his apartment. The panic then began to set it. âIâm so fucking stupid.â
He would be right.
The argument started when he noticed things were getting a bit too serious. His eyes trailed over his apartment, your blanket over his recliner. Scented wall plug-in dispersing the smell off something tropical he could never put his finger on. He realized things were getting a bit too âcomfortableâ for his mindâs liking. It all came crashing on him he looked over to you sitting next to him in his shirt. Not a care in the world.
His mind: self-sabotage.
âDo you think you can maybeâŠgo home..?â
Well, that could have came out better.
âYeah? Thatâs fine? Are you about to leave?â
âYeahâŠ.wellâŠno I just needâŠtoâŠ.rearrangeâŠ?â He tugged on his T-shirt collar as if it was strangling him.
âOh! I can help if you want? Iâm pretty strong if I do say so myself-â
âNo. You shouldâŠ.goâŠ.canât have you in the way or-â
âIn the way?â You questioned, your left eyebrow raising a little.
What a man of few words.
âFollow through.â âYeahâŠ.youâŠ.are in the wayâŠâŠ?â âClose enough.â
ââŠâŠ.did I do something wrong?â The frown on your face made his heart start palpating.
âWe just arenât anything okay! Itâs weird youâre here! All the time!â He finally exploded.
âHey! You ask me to be here!â
âWell I donât want you to be here now!â
âWhy?â
âWhy? Fuck why?â
âYouâre annoying!â
âAnnoying?â
âYeah, annoying.â
And so on and so forth.
âWhat the fuck is wrong with me!?â Jason was practically tweaking, biting his knuckle trying not to hit the wall like some scrawny white kid with anger issues.
âThink. Where would you be if you were pissed?â
Anywhere but with him.
âFuck!â He latched on to his jacket and keys. âFucking stupid!â
First stop. Obviously, your place.
The lights were off. Which would usually be the case for anyone at this time of night. He knocked on the door a bit harshly.
No answer.
Jason looked around before pressing his ear to the door. No movement. No crying. Nothing.
Places you like? They would all be closed as of now.
The bar?
NoâŠ..you couldnât possiblyâŠ
He was going to check anyways.
The reving of his motorcycle made the outlookers smoking on the bar patio side eye him.
âBig dick is back in town!â One guy hollered as his buddies laugh.
ââŠ..Iâll let that side. Just this once.â Jason glared at the man as he pulled the doors open.
He recognized his shirt in an instant.
You sat alone in a booth. A man standing over you trying to buy you a drink to which you declined.
âIâm fine.â
âAre you sure? You look like youâve had a rough day. Let me make it better.â It made your skin crawl at the fake niceness of the manâs voice, but who are you to deny a free drink that may or may not be laced.
Jason however, was not taking that chance. âHands off.â He grabbed the manâs arm before he could make anymore advances towards you. Twisting it slowly behind him.
âAre you crazy man! Jeez!â
âFuck. Off.â
âJason. Stop. Youâre causing a scene.â You huff not even looking up.
âYeah listen to this bit-â
He couldnât even finish the word as his mouth was struck by Jasonâs knuckles. âJASON!â You turned as you heard the impact.
ââŠâŠ.reflexâŠ.â He laughed nervously before turning to see everyone staring.
âIâM CALLING THE COPS!â The bartender yelled as the man hit the ground.
âCome on!â You tugged his arm and dragged him out the bar. You both rush out, âwhat the fuck is wrong with you?!â
âI was looking for you!â He yelled as he shoves his helmet on you and zoomed off.
âFor what?! Didnât you just kick me out?!â You yell back lifting the visor to see him better.
âI did not! I just- I was stupid! Okay?! I donât know how to express how I feel!â
âWhat are you 5?! Can you not use your words?!â
âIâm trying to now!â He groaned loudly over the wind, âI was fucking terrified after you left! Okay?! I donât know why I started an argument with you! Iâm an idiot who got scared, and felt like I didnât deserve to be where I was so I ruined it! Like always!â
ââŠ..â
âI care about you a lot! Youâre not annoying nor in the way! I just- Iâm so fucking stupid!â His voice cracked making your arms go tighter around him.
âStop crying. Youâre gonna make me cry.â You teased.
âIâm not crying.â He clearly was.
After a bit he finally pulls into his apartment building.
He stayed sitting helping you get down off the bike.
âJason.â
âWhat?â
âLook at me.â You grabbed hold of his cheek with your index and thumb, pinching the ever loving crap out of it. âGet it together.â A smile tugged at the corner of your lips.
âOw. Okay!â He yelped in pain, grabbing your hand trying to pull you off.
âI love you.â
His body took a screenshot.. ââŠâŠ.what?â
âYou donât have to say itâŠ.yetâŠ.but Iâm sure I do love youâŠâŠeven if you are self destructive.â
Jason Todd, the man you are. After everything he had sacrificed, suffered, and tolerated Jason is a spiral mess of emotions. Despite the gruff demeanour, he has a tender heart. It's a known fact that he deeply cares for those who he considers close. This thought is explored in Rebirth Red hood and the outlaws (2016) and multiple other batman, robin runs where Jason makes a special visit.
Therefore, we're focusing on the spiral mess of his affection. He refuses communication which require a lot of emotional intelligence sometimes, causing a blockage in his pipes. It's bound to leak at one point. I firmly believe for that reason, Jason Todd possesses expressive eyes. There's something about the way they locate you in distance, lock-in and never budge. He may not be as witty like Dick Grayson with his words but god his gaze, they speak words. A lot, of words.
Constant distraught and loss in Jason Todd's life must've affected the way he views love. Truthfully I don't think he understands it even till now. There was no room for romance in his life before or even after resurrection. Whatever he feels with you, he labels it as endearment. He questions the morality at first but eventually this longing for you marks the new definition of love in his vocabulary.
Obsession of his blooms the moment he labels you as one of his close people. Not publicly no, never. Just secretly in his mind. The tag follows you like a cute ribbon wrapped around Christmas present. He acknowledges you as a form of inseparable attachment. Constantly checking in your location, gifting you from small to big things, but when it comes to actual meetings he doesn't speak much.
I imagine Jason as the silent type. Not a lone wolf but because he knows how sharp he could get with his words. Hell, how half of the things he blurts out could overwhelm you. The dark, passionate, gloomy thoughts of you in his mind might scare you off any second.
He wants you by his side every moment. Its as simple as that.
So when YOU mix into his spiral of emotions, Jason Todd longs for you to colour his mind. Whatever shade bright or dark it doesn't matter. Leave a mark, claim it, rip it, scribble it, as long as they're from you.
He won't admit it out loud no, but most definitely his eyes will.
" ... "
It wasn't like him to reach for your wrist so abruptly. The hold was intense and the room felt suffocating.
"Jason ... wait"
As you slowly retreated your steps away from him, his gaze followed. Wrist was still trapped under his strength and eventually your back had hit the wall. Your instincts sent a knot in your stomach.
Silence continued as the wall and Jason's overwhelming figure trapped you like a helpless bird. It was getting more difficult to breathe. You needed some air maybe some break from this tension but this choking quiet fogged your mind and-
"..stay."
It shifted. The pressure. Your eyes returned to the emerald hues. No, is it really emerald? It resembled more of agate. The fogged, dark, and unbreakable nature where it only seemed to fill the sight of you.
synopsis. you thought your first meeting with him was by chance. gojo satoru knew it was fate. (aka the time you unknowingly met your fiance).
contents. FLUFF, lovesick!gojo, he is NOT normal when it comes to you unfortunately, arranged marriage, ooc probably,
notes. this is the second addition to the the secret marriage series! every fic can be read as a standalone however :3 not proofread
The first time you officially met Gojo Satoru, you thought he was surprisingly shy.
It wasnât what youâd expected from the unstoppable boy-god everyone whispered aboutâthe one born with infinity at his fingertips and the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Youâd visited the Gojo compound a few times as a child. Even then, you remembered how the air itself bent around himâservants scurried with their heads down, and even clan heads spoke softly in his presence. Youâd been six when you first saw him, and he only a year older, but already his gaze was sharp enough to cut steel. You remembered the color of his eyes: blue like the sky. When they lingered on you for a moment too long, your heart nearly stopped. One flick of his hand, you thought, and your family could vanish. So you bowed low, never daring to look again.
Years later, your parents insistedârather suddenlyâthat you transfer to Tokyo Jujutsu Tech. You didnât understand why, only that resistance wasnât an option.
And when you arrived, he was waiting.
He was taller now. Older, broader, dressed casually in black with those same impossible eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses. You expected to see the same arrogance exuding from him, something godlike.
What you didnât expect was for him to stand there like heâd forgotten how to breathe.
âNice to meet you. Iâm [Last Name] [Name],â you said, offering a polite bow. âIt was kind of you to offer a tour around the campus, Gojo-sama, but really, you didnât have to trouble yourself.â
He blinked once. Then twice.
âG-Gojo-sama?â he echoed, voice cracking like he hadnât spoken all morning.
You tilted your head. âShould I not?â
His hands flailed a little before he shoved them awkwardly into his pockets. âJustâuhâjust Gojoâs fine. Or Satoru. Yâknow. If you want.â
The corner of your mouth twitched. âGojo, then.â
And just like that, the most powerful sorcerer alive nearly forgot how to stand upright.
âOr Satoru,â he suggests again.
âSatoru would be a little inappropriate, no?â
You donât miss the way his ears go red beneath his snowy hair. For someone so allegedly untouchable, heâs a mess of nervous ticsâthe fidget of his hands, the way his cursed energy flares and stutters like static.
He clears his throat. âLetâs start with the tour. So the courtyardâit's a courtyard.â
You blink. âThe courtyard is a courtyard?â
âYeah, itâs got grass. And benches.â He flashes a grin thatâs all teeth and panic.
You raise an unimpressed brow.
Still, he leads you through the campus, pointing out buildings with vague gestures and explanations that sound more like excuses. Youâd expected arrogance, but what you get is almost endearingâhe trips over his words, over his feet, and once nearly into a koi pond.
When you reach the old training grounds, you pause. âDo you train here often?â
âSometimes,â he says, rubbing the back of his neck. âUsually when Iâm not busy.â
âBusy doing what?â You canât help but ask.
âTaking on missions,â he blurts. "Or thinking."
You give him a look. âThinking?â
âAbout the future.â His voice softens, barely audible over the breeze. âAbout the people whoâll be in it.â
Your brows furrow, but before you can respond, he gestures toward the next building, words spilling fast to cover the slip. âAnyway! Thatâs the dorms. That top window to the left is my room; feel free to come whenever youâd like.â
That would be terribly inappropriate if you were to visit the Gojo heirâs room alone. Not even the servants in the Gojo compound get that luxury.Â
You think Gojo Satoru is a little strange.
You follow him in silence, but you can't help but notice something unnerving in the way he looks at you. Itâs far too careful, as if heâs memorizing you.
Gojoâs usually larger-than-life presence feels off-kilter today. Every time you look at him, he seems to malfunction, like his brain short-circuits and reboots all at once.
âSo,â you say lightly, âdo you always give personal tours to new transfers?â
He scoffs too quickly. âNah. Iâm a very busy man.â
âI must be very lucky.â
âThatâs because youâreââ He stops himself mid-sentence, blinking. ââuh, because youâre a special case.â
You tilt your head. âSpecial how?â
He flashes a grin, a little too wide to be casual. âIf I told you, youâd fall in love with me instantly.â
You stare. âRight. That must be why youâre sweating.â
âIâm not sweating.â He wipes his forehead.
You hum, amused. âYouâre glowing a lot, then.â
âYeah,â he says, recovering just enough to smirk. âThatâs what people usually say when they see me.â
âMm. Right after they say, âis he okay?ââ
He laughs heartily. âYouâre funny. Dangerous combination with being cute, yâknow.â
âAre you flirting with me or giving me a tour?â
âWhy not both?â
You feel your face grow warm, and you find yourself dumbfounded at the interaction. Your salvation arrives in the form of two other second years, lounging against the training hall wall like theyâve been watching for a while.
âTour going well?â a short haired girl drawls, cigarette dangling between her fingers. âOr is Satoru just combusting?â
The dark haired boy beside her hums in mock thought. âIf I were a betting man, I'd say combusting.â He offers you an easy smile. âYou must be [Name]. Weâve heard a lot about you.â
That earns him a sharp kick to the shin from Gojo. âNo, you havenât.â
You flinch at the impact of his kick. The shockwave alone ripples through the ground. The other second-year barely manages to block, boots skidding back before he steadies himself.
And that was Gojo holding backâlaughing, even. A playful tap from him still hit harder than most sorcerers could dream of.
âOh, we have,â Shoko says, exhaling smoke. âNonstop, actually. Ever since the transfer paperwork came in, heâs beenââ
âShoko.â Gojoâs voice cracks in warning.
She grins. ââvery enthusiastic about your arrival.â
You turn back to him, one brow raised. âEnthusiastic, huh?â
He freezes for half a second, then recoversâpoorly. âI wouldnât say enthusiastic. More like strategically intrigued.â
âStrategically,â you echo. âIn a student youâve never met.â
âExactly,â he says, far too confidently.
The dark haired boy laughs under his breath. âStrategically intrigued. Thatâs a new one.â
Gojo shoots him a look over his sunglasses. âItâs called professionalism, Suguru. Look it up.â
Shoko hums, tapping ash from her cigarette. âSure. And the blushingâs part of the strategy?â
âIâm not blushing,â Gojo says immediatelyâdefensively. âItâs just⊠the lighting.â
âIt must be strange lighting that only hits your face when sheâs talking to you.â Shoko says dryly. âWhat did you say your cursed technique was again, [Name]?"
Gojo straightens, forcing that trademark grin, the one that usually gets him out of anything. âCan't I just be dedicated to my work? Training the next generation of sorcerers is a sacred duty.â
You tilt your head, unconvinced. âSo this is purely educational?â
âObviously,â he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. âIâm a guide, not a flirt.â
You can't help but join in and tease Gojo. âCouldâve fooled me.â
Suguru nearly chokes on his laughter.
Gojo pointedly ignores him, adjusting his shades with infuriating calm, except for the faint, telltale curve tugging at his lips.
When Shoko and Suguru finally take pity and wander off, you turn back to him. âThey seem close to you.â
âTheyâre more annoying than anything,â he says, but his tone softens.Â
Thereâs a beat of silence, wind threading through the trees. You tilt your head, watching him. âYouâre not like I imagined, Gojo.â
He looks startled. âIs that good or bad?â
âI havenât decided yet.â
He grins faintly, and itâs genuine this time, less panic, more heart. âGuess Iâll just have to impress you, then.â
âBig talk,â you tease. âYouâve nearly fallen into three ponds today.â
âAh, but did I actually fall?â
âBarely.â
âThen Iâm winning.â
You shake your head, amused despite yourself. But when you start to walk again, his gaze lingers on you, soft and unguarded, like heâs looking at something he already considers his.
He doesnât tell you that he memorized your handwriting years ago, or that he personally arranged for your transfer, your dorm placement, your safety.
He doesnât tell you that every nervous breath heâs taken today is because you are the one thing he never trusted fate with.
And when you glance back, catching him staring again, he just grins and pushes his shades up. âWhat? Canât blame a guy for looking.â
You roll your eyes.Â
He smiles, but thereâs a flicker of something else in it. It something in between possessive, reverent, and utterly smitten.
You wake the next morning to sunlight slanting through the dorm window and the faint hum of cursed energy outside. The campus is quiet. For a moment, you forget that Tokyo Jujutsu Tech is a place built to train people and send them to their death.
Then someone knocks.
âDelivery for Gojo-san!â
When you open the door, a stack of neatly wrapped boxes greets you. Training uniformsâfreshly pressed and perfectly tailored.
Your name embroidered along the collar. Followed by a small silver button bearing the Gojo Clan emblem.
You blink. âThere must be a mistake. My name is [Last Name] [First Name], from the [Last Name] clan.â
The courier glances at his clipboard. âIt was pre-approved. Special accommodation.â
Special accommodation? That doesnât make sense. Youâre not part of the Gojo Clan. And yet the crest gleams like it belongs there, like it was meant for you.
Youâre still staring when a too-familiar voice calls down the hall.
âOh! You got them!â
Gojo jogs over, the picture of casual confidenceâthough the way his shoulders relax when he sees the boxes says otherwise.
You narrow your eyes. âYou ordered these, didnât you?â
âTechnically,â he says, adjusting his sunglasses, âI approved them. Just a little welcome gift. Couldnât have you walking around in those old regional uniformsâgotta represent Tokyo Tech in style.â
You hold up the jacket by the collar. âThere has been a mix-up.â
For a split second, he freezes.âOh, that? The seamstress probably thought itâd look nice?â
You stare at him flatly. âOn my uniform?â
He shrugs, all feigned nonchalance. âOur symbol is minimalistic. Has protective vibe, donât you think?â
âProtective,â you echo.
âYeah,â he says, grinning like heâs getting away with something. âYou knowâthe Gojo Clanâs symbol carries a lot of weight. Itâs a good look. Suits you.â
You give him a long, skeptical look. âSuits me?â
âDefinitely,â he says without hesitation. âIf anything, it looks like it belongs there.â
âI donât think your clan will be happy to see a nobody wearing their symbol.â
"I don't think they'd mind." He shrugs easily, âBut it's a good thing Iâm the head of the Gojo Clan. Consider it officially sanctioned.â
Before you can press him further, Shoko strolls by with her morning coffee.
âOh, the uniforms finally showed up?â she says, smirking. âHeâs been checking the delivery schedule every morning.â
âShoko,â Gojo warns, voice dropping.
She ignores him entirely. âPractically camped by the gates at sunrise.â
You raise an eyebrow. âCamped?â
He laughs again, a touch too loud. âSheâs exaggerating. Who even does that?â
âMm-hm,â you say.
Shoko pats his arm on the way by. âYouâre real transparent, Satoru.â
He mutters something under his breath, then turns back to you with a grin thatâs just a little too forced.
âYouâre weird, you know that?â The words accidentally slipped out of your mouth. Somehow, all your careful manners unraveled the longer you were around him.
âWeirdâs part of the charm. Youâll come around.â
âI never said I would.â
He leans forward, voice softer now, teasing, but the weight behind it makes your pulse skip. âDidnât have to.â
The words hang between you, uncomfortably intimate. You look away first, pretending to inspect the uniform again. The Gojo emblem gleams in the morning light, catching like a secret you werenât supposed to see.
That night, when you return to your room, something stops you cold. An envelope, plain and marked with your clan's symbol, rests on your desk.
You break the seal.
Do not be afraid. Everything has been arranged for your safety. He means well.
The neatness of the handwriting is familiar.
Your hand trembles slightly as you set it down.
Then, against your better judgment, you glance toward the window, half-expecting to see a flash of white hair in the dark.
And somewhere across campus, Gojo Satoru sneezes into his elbow, muttering to Geto, âSheâs gonna find out soon, isnât she?â
Geto sighs, leaning back in his chair. âYou arranged an entire marriage without telling her, Satoru. She was always going to find out.â
Shoko doesnât even look up from her book. âStart writing your apology now.â
Gojo groans, dragging his hands down his face. âBut I wanted it to be romantic.â
âYeah,â Geto deadpans. âNothing says romance like âsurprise political alliance.ââ
Gojo points a finger at him. âHey. She smiled at me today. Thatâs progress.â
synopsis. gojo is hopelessly obsessed with the girl he secretly chose to marryâwho has no idea heâs been in love with her for years.
notes. new series alert! it will be another collection of oneshots of high school gojo pining over his childhood crush who has been oblivious to it all :)
series masterlist
âWhoâs that girl on your homescreen? Is that a new model?â
âNah.â
Suguru frowns. Thatâs weird. Normally, Satoru Gojo would happily elaborate, brag, and maybe even pull up her entire gravure catalogue. But this time, Suguru got nothing but a clipped response and a flicker of something almost⊠shy.
So of course, Suguru grins. âSheâs cute. Whatâs her name?â
Immediately, Satoru tilts his phone away, thumb locking the screen like itâs classified. âWouldnât you like to know?â
Shoko perks up instantly from her desk, cigarette forgotten between her fingers. âWait, youâre hiding your phone? Since when?â Her lips twitch. âWhat, Gojo finally caught feelings?â
âI donât âcatch feelings,ââ Satoru says, nose scrunching as he waves her off. âItâs the other way around. Iâm immune to that kind of stuff.â
âYouâre blushing,â Suguru notes, deadpan.
âIâm not blushing,â Satoru shoots back, face tinted pink.
âOh, he totally is.â Shoko smirks, attempting to peer at his screen. âWho is she?â
âItâs no one,â he says too fast and all too defensive.
Shoko leans back, exhaling a lazy puff of smoke. âSo youâve got a secret crush.â
Suguru grins. âIâve never seen you like this before. Whatâs she got that the rest of the world doesnât?â
Satoruâs grin falters for just a second, and thatâs when they know theyâve hit something real. Heâs not entirely joking.Â
âSheâs⊠something,â he admits quietly enough that it almost doesnât sound like him. âYouâll meet her soon.â
Suguru raises an eyebrow. âOh? She exists?â
âYup. Very real. In fact, youâre gonna be seeing her at Jujutsu Tech soon.â
That makes both of them look up.
âWaitâsheâs a sorcerer?â Shoko asks, blinking.
Satoru nods. âStarting as a first-year next semester.â
âSo sheâs a student too,â Suguru says slowly. âYouâre into a first-year?â
âRelax,â Gojo sighs. âSheâs only one year younger than me.â
Shoko stares. âStill weird.â
But he only laughs, leaning back against the wall, expression softening in a way that neither of them has ever seen before. âSheâs not just anyone. Iâve known about her for a long time.â
Suguru tilts his head. âKnown her? Or watched her from afar and set her as your wallpaper like a pervert?â
Satoru smirks, though the tips of his ears redden. âYou could say I⊠kept an eye on her.â
âKept an eye?â Shoko repeats, incredulous. âGojo, what are youââ
He cuts her off by standing, sliding his hands into his pockets like the smug idiot he usually is, only now thereâs something almost giddy underneath. âYouâll find out soon enough. Iâve been serious about her since I was a kid.â
That gets their attention. Both of them stare.
â...What?â Shoko says flatly.
âYeah,â Satoru says, stretching his arms over his head like itâs no big deal. âThe clan wanted to set up an arranged marriage, right? I told them Iâd handle it myself.â
ââObsessedâ is a strong word,â he says breezily. âI prefer destined.â
Suguru pulls a face. âYouâre unbelievable. Does she even know you?â
âIs that really important?â Gojo asks cheerfully, ignoring them. âCanât wait for you to meet her. Though, fair warningâsheâs a little shy.â
"Maybe because she doesn't know you?" Suguru mutters.
Shoko stares at him. âGojo, thatâs insane.â
He just hums, turning toward the door, that smug little smile never leaving his lips.
âMaybe,â he says, stepping out into the hall whilst laughing to himself, leaving Suguru and Shoko in stunned silence, somewhere between disbelief and secondhand embarrassment.
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