Put Him In His Place ᥫ᭡. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Chapter 02 -> previous -> next
pairings - Lovesick!Fratjo x Badass!reader (f/m)
♡ ₊˚‧ WARNINGS :: No use of Y/N :: Frat boy Gojo:: Yearner Gojo :: Fluff:: Partying:: Drinking:: Kissing :: Mild WLW :: Eventual smut -> (more tags coming soon) :: Strong female MC :: Neuroscience Major MC:: NSFW :: Masturbation :: Nicknames:: (probably more to come!)
𑣲⋆｡˚ NOTES: Hi everyone! I loved writing this chapter so much, I hope you enjoy it! This is still Gojo’s POV. (Semi-proofread)
🎧ྀི♪⋆.✮MUSIC RECS:- The Weeknd, I played these two on repeat the entire writing process, no joke.
- Party Monster- The Weeknd
- I Feel It Coming- The Weeknd
For the rest of the night he had met you, Gojo never actually talked to you again.
He saw you across the house a few more times—once when you and Becca were squeezing past a group of guys blocking the hallway, once when you were laughing in the kitchen while someone attempted to mix drinks and failed miserably. Every time he considered walking over, something interrupted. Someone stopped him to ask about the party. A brother dragged him into a conversation about next week’s event. Some girl grabbed his arm trying to flirt.
Then suddenly it was two in the morning. People were leaving, someone had turned the music down, the house smelled like stale alcohol and sweaty bodies. And you were gone.
Gojo stood in the living room doorway staring at the empty space near the kitchen island where you’d been earlier. His cheek didn’t hurt anymore, but he still remembered exactly how your hand had met it.
Geto appeared beside him, already dressed for bed, hair tied up in a messy black bun. “Dude,why’re you so gloomy? Did someone steal your car on the way out or something?”
“..or something.” Gojo grumbled. “I forgot.”
Gojo stared toward the front door like it might magically open again. “...her name.”
Geto paused. And then he burst out laughing. “You’re kidding.”
“You got slapped, mutilated, mentally imprinted on this girl for life, and didn’t even ask for her name?”
Gojo dragged a hand down his face. “..I was distracted.”
“Oh yeah,” Geto said. “Trust me, I noticed.”
The next party, Gojo scoured for you.
Not obviously. He was still Satoru Gojo, after all. Social king of Sigma Phi. He couldn’t exactly hover by the door like a desperate puppy.
But every time the entrance opened, his eyes flicked up. And every time a new group of girls walked in, his brain did a quick scan. Black lace dress? No. Not you. By midnight, he told himself it didn’t matter. By one he was checking the door every five minutes. By two he was just plain irritated.
“Who are you looking for?” Geto asked, leaning against the kitchen counter behind him.
Gojo rolled his eyes and grabbed another drink. You didn’t show up that night.
The next week he tried again. Another rager, another crowded living room, another endless stream of people walking through the door.
No black lace dress. Beautiful faces, yes, but none that compared to yours. No girl threatening bodily harm with a sharpened voice.
Geto noticed around eleven. “...she’s not coming, man.” he gripped Gojo’s shoulder.
Gojo scoffed. “I’m not waiting for her,”
“Then why have you checked the door seventeen times?”
“Obsessed much? Why are you checking how many times I look at the door you freak. Go talk about budgets again or something.”
Geto sighed. “Yes, Satoru, get the rage out.” he cooed. Gojo’s knuckles curled into tight fists.
Gojo looked through every follower of UTokyo’s instagram relentlessly, scavenging for your profile. But no luck.
You didn’t show up that night either.
In fact, weeks passed. So many that it became a running joke. Geto would casually mention it anytime Gojo’s attention drifted toward the door.
“Maybe she transferred colleges”
“Maybe she was part of the princess protection program.”
Gojo flipped him off every time, and as much as he tried to give up. He kept looking. Sure, it wasn’t like he was in love with you. He barely knew you, you had spoken to him for maybe sixty seconds total (half of which involved you threatening him). But there was a bigger problem he had to deal with.
The last time he had felt anything close to arousal was when he had seen you walk through that door weeks ago.
Oh and trust that he had tried– every time he realized you wouldn’t show up he would lure a blonde or a ginger or a brunette (he didn’t really give a fuck) into his room and do his thing, kiss her neck, rove his arms down her body, slip his thick fingers into her until her nails gripped his back and cried out his name. He tried so desperately, but Toru junior refused to budge. His mind refused to wander from you. A minute long interaction with you and all of his sexual desire was gone. Actually, it was still there– just directed completely elsewhere.
After the eighth attempt of trying to get hard with another girl and having to kick her out after one measly orgasm that wasn’t even his, he got genuinely disgusted by the idea of continuing to sleep around. What was the point?
He tried pumping himself to oblivion on quiet nights at the house, endless sheets of homework laid out on his desk, waiting to be completed. But the only thing he wanted to finish was himself. He panted, leaning back in his desk chair, reading glasses fogged and slipping off his damp nose as he fucked into his fist relentlessly. He had been going for ten minutes now with no sign of victory.
“Please..” he groaned desperately, mind wandering back to how the bottom hem of your dress had looked wrapped around your thighs, how the curve of your ass had been so well displayed yet teasingly hidden under the dark fabric. “P–please..” he rasped, hand moving faster now, balls slapping against the top of his thighs with every failed stroke. “W-wanna come… w-wanna come..”
Spoiler alert: he didn’t. The guy was feeling like death, and on top of that, he had pervert guilt.
Something about you had stuck in his brain like a splinter. How you didn’t give a shit about who he was, standing your ground with no hesitation. How you had smiled all beautiful afterward. Gojo had quite literally never met someone like you. And it was driving him slightly insane.
Three weeks later, Sigma Phi threw another party. This one was bigger than usual. Someone had dragged speakers out onto the porch and people spilled into the backyard due to the newfound warmth of the weather. Gojo was halfway through arguing with Geto and Sukana about the theme for the next party when the front door opened. He glanced up automatically and froze. It took his brain a second to process what he was seeing.
You stepped inside like you’d done it a thousand times. Tonight you were wearing a red sequin halter top that caught every bit of light in the room, glimmering with every step you took. It hugged your torso perfectly, the neckline dipping just low enough to be distracting. Your skirt sat low on your hips– black, simple, just short enough to show off the plush of your upper thighs. Black boots adorned your feet instead of heels tonight. Your hair was curled loosely, falling in soft waves across your shoulders.
Geto was still talking to Sukana.
“…and if we move the funds from—”
Gojo slapped his hand against Geto’s chest hard enough that he choked mid-sentence.
Gojo grabbed his shoulder and physically turned him toward the door. “She’s here.”
Geto blinked, and then he spotted you.
Gojo grinned. Running a hand quickly through his hair. Then again. He adjusted his sweatshirt and shifted his pants lower before running his hand through his hair again. Geto watched this entire transformation with growing amusement.
“You look like a peacock.”
Gojo took a breath. And then started walking toward you. Except–
Halfway across the room he stopped. Someone else had reached you first.
Becca. She appeared out of nowhere, practically jogging at you through the crowd. “I NEED YOU.” she said, grabbing your wrist.
Gojo slowed and then stopped quickly, eyes settled on the two of you. Becca was talking quickly, her expression a little frantic but excited at the same time. She kept squeezing your wrist like she’d been waiting a millennia for you. You leaned closer so you could hear her over the music. Gojo couldn’t hear the words from where he stood, but he watched the conversation happen in pieces. Becca talking fast, you blinking in surprise, then smiling a little, nodding.
Becca’s face lit up, and then she pulled you closer and kissed you.
It wasn’t a quick peck or a friendly cheek thing. It was a real kiss. Right in the middle of the living room.
For a full three seconds Gojo’s brain just… refused to process what he was seeing.
Hold on. Is she– Are they?-- Oh. Oh.
Gojo blinked rapidly, hoping it might reset his brain. It didn’t work. Across the room, Becca still had her hand on your arm, your bodies close together in the middle of the living room while the music thumped around you. Red lights from the cheap party LEDs flashed across the sequins of your top, making them glitter every time you shifted.
Gojo felt something strange in his chest. Not jealousy, exactly. More like confusion. A lot of confusion… okay maybe a little jealousy too.
He had seen plenty of drunk party pecks before. Girls kissing girls for attention or because someone dared them or whatever dumb reason frat parties produced.
But that hadn’t looked like that.
You’d leaned into it naturally. Your hand had come up to her arm like it belonged there.
Did I just spend three weeks waiting for a girl who has a girlfriend?
Behind him, Geto had gone very quiet. “..wow.” He leaned slightly closer. “So. Satoru,” he said carefully, “did you know about that part?”
Gojo still hadn’t moved. “..no.” His eyes were still fixed on you.
Then, something shifted. Becca pulled away from the kiss first. She said something to you. Short and quick, the kind of thing you say right before running off and doing some chaotic shit.
You laughed softly and nodded. Then she squeezed your wrist once more and turned away. Gojo blinked. “..wait.”
Becca was already weaving through the crowd. You stared where you were. Leaning one hip casually against the wall behind you, lifting your drink and taking a sip while watching her go. Gojo’s brain tried to catch up.
Did they break up? NOW??!
Becca stopped a few feet away near the living room couch where a guy Gojo vaguely recognized from one of his business classes was talking with someone.
She tapped him on the shoulder and the guy turned around, His face immediately lighting up when he saw her. Then—before he could even say anything—Becca grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him down into a kiss. A real kiss. The kind with hands and leaning and a tiny surprised laugh afterward.
Gojo stared and silence filled his brain again.
Geto leaned slightly forward to watch. “Oh that’s messy.”
Gojo cracked his knuckles. Okay, now he was just more confused, and his tipsiness– while pleasant earlier in the night– was suddenly making his thoughts move like slow, clumsy puzzle pieces.
Did she cheat in real time?
Geto leaned over. “You okay buddy?”
“No.” Gojo blinked again. And then he straightened up abruptly. “I need clarification.”
Geto snorted. “Oh my god you’re actually going to ask.”
“You still think you’re in the running?”
“I think I have potential.”
“Satoru, you got slapped.
Gojo glared. “Yeah, but there was tension.”
Geto cackled. “The only tension was in your pants, you kinky pervert. This is incredible. Get me some popcorn before you go?”
Gojo ignored him and started walking toward you. Each step felt slightly too fast, like his brain was speeding to catch up with his feet. You were still standing by the wall with a red cup in your hand, watching Becca with a faint amused smile as she and the guy laughed about something after their kiss. You took another sip of your drink, completely calm, like nothing had happened at all.
Gojo reached you, then hesitated. For a second he just stood there, staring at the side of your head.
How do I even start this conversation.
“Hey I saw you kiss someone and then they kissed someone else immediately after!! Tell me more?”
He lightly tapped your shoulder, a little more urgently than he meant to. He cursed under his breath.
You turned and your eyes landed on him. Your expression shifted immediately, recognition flashing across your face.
“Oh hey,” you said, a small grin tugging at your mouth. “It’s the asshole.”
Gojo winced slightly “...that title might stick forever, huh.”
“Only if you keep being one,” you tilted your head. “Gojo, right?”
The fact that you knew his name did something strange and warm in his chest. He opened his mouth, but his slightly wasted mouth made the first thought in his brain escape immediately. “You and that blonde??”
Shit. It came out way too fast. Way too loud. Desperate. Gojo realized this about half a second after saying it.
Your face shifted into mild surprise before your eyes crinkled in amusement. And you laughed, genuinely entertained. “No,” you said easily, shaking your head.
Gojo let out a sharp exhale. “...no?”
You gestured lazily toward Becca across the room, who was still talking to the guy she’d just kissed. “She just wanted to practice.”
Gojo stared. “...practice.”
You nodded, taking another sip of your drink. “Yeah. She wanted to kiss him spontaneously and didn’t want to chicken out.” you shrugged casually. “So she practiced on me first. Takes away some of the ‘spontaneous’, I know.” you grinned.
Gojo felt the tight knot in his chest instantly loosen. He wondered if someone had just opened a window. “Oh?” He inhaled deeply without meaning to, and relief rushed through him so obviously that you caught it immediately.
Your grin widened. “Were you worried?”
Gojo straightened quickly. “No.”
He cleared his throat. “I was just…clarifying. Can’t a guy be curious?”
You laughed again. He suddenly felt very aware of how frantic he must have looked a few seconds ago. He cleared his throat and tried to salvage his dignity. "So.. what's your name?" You told him, and he smiled softly, nodding.
“So.. practicing a kiss, huh,” he said, leaning casually on the wall beside you. “Interesting tactic.”
You nodded thoughtfully. “It’s very handy actually,” you swirled the drink in your cup before taking another sip. “Helps you not be lost in the real moment, y’know?”
Gojo nodded slowly. “Right.”
His brain was still rebooting from the emotional rollercoaster of the last two minutes. Also, being this close to you was doing weird things to him. The sequins of your top caught the light every time you moved. The curls in your hair brushed your shoulders softly when you tilted your head.
He shoved his hands into his pockets to give them something to do. “I can see how that would be useful,” he said, then he frowned slightly. “But wouldn’t it feel a little strange?”
You glanced up at him. “What would?”
“Kissing your friend like that.” he shrugged awkwardly. “I mean.. that's a pretty intense rehearsal.”
“Pfft.” You snorted, waving a dismissive hand. “No.”
You shook your head easily, looking at him like the answer should be obvious. “It’s just a kiss. Doesn’t mean anything.”
Gojo blinked. Just a kiss? Usually, he’d agree. But something about hearing that come from your mouth unsettled him a little.
Before he could respond, you suddenly leaned forward. Your hand grabbed a fistful of the front of his sweatshirt, Gojo barely had time to register the motion before you pulled him down toward you. His brain went completely blank.
Then your lips pressed onto his.
They were so soft. So warm, the sweet musk of the alcohol seeping from your tongue onto his, followed shortly by the sticky sugar of… watermelon lip gloss? Your mouth molded easily against his like it was the most natural thing in the world. For half a second he just froze, then instinct kicked in. His lips parted slightly when your tongue swiped teasingly against his lower lip. A spark shot up his spine– and then suddenly all of toru junior’s qualms had disappeared, he was standing straight up, completely shameless.
And then you pulled away.
Just like that. Like it had been nothing.
Gojo didn’t move, not immediately.
You had already let go of his shirt, already leaned back against the wall like nothing strange had happened. The music kept pounding through the house, someone yelled from the living room about a beer pong rematch, and the red lights overhead flashed across the room again.
Everything else continued normally.
Because it had completely stopped functioning. He was still bent forward slightly where you’d pulled him down, staring at you like he had just witnessed something supernatural.
Your lips had just been on his. And it hadn’t just been a quick peck either. You had kissed him like you’d meant it, soft but confident. Like you’d done it a hundred times over and knew exactly how to get him weak.
He could still feel the faint warmth where your mouth had pressed against his. The little swipe of your tongue against his lower lip replayed in his mind like a glitching video. His heartbeat had jumped from normal to concerningly fast.
And now you were just standing there, sipping your drink, completely unfazed.
“See?” you said casually.
Gojo blinked once. Twice. His brain gave its best attempt at a reboot. It did not succeed.
You watched him for a moment, and then your confident expression slowly shifted. Your eyes widened a little. “Oh–” You straightened slightly. “Wait.”
“...that wasn’t your first kiss or something, right??”
His brain finally made a noise again. You immediately looked horrified.
“Oh my god,” you groaned, rubbing your forehead. “I’m so stupid–” you vaguely gestured at him. “Um– I just didn’t think it would be? Since you’re the frat type…”
Gojo’s thoughts violently scrambled back to life. “No.”
God, no. It absolutely wasn’t his first kiss. Not even close.
But it was definitely his best. By far.
Which was a deeply unsettling realization.
He cleared his throat again, trying desperately to piece his pride back together. “Definitely not.”
You watched him carefully.
“I– that.. I’ve kissed…” he gestured vaguely with one hand, “...plenty of girls before.” His voice cracked on the word plenty.
You studied him for another second and then your shoulders relaxed. You exhaled in relief and took another sip of your drink. “Great.” You nodded once, satisfied. “So you get it.”
Gojo nodded automatically, mind still completely spiraling. “Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “I totally get it.”
He absolutely did not get it.
He was currently trying to understand why the feeling of your lips still lingered on his mouth like electricity.
Why his brain kept replaying the kiss over and over again, heart beating.
You tilted your head slightly, eyeing him now. A small smile spread across your face.
Gojo’s heart almost failed.
Up close like this, you were ridiculously beautiful. The soft curls in your hair caught the colored party lights every time you moved. Your makeup was subtle but somehow made your eyes look even brighter. Your eyes shined brighter with every shift of your weight.
Gojo snapped out of his trance.
“You okay?” Your eyebrows knitted together slightly. “You look a little pale there.”
Gojo crashed back to reality yet again. “Oh.”
Right. He should probably say something normal.
“Yeah,” he said quickly. “Totally fine.” He shoved his hands back into his pockets, deeper this time so you wouldn’t notice the slight tremor in them.
You’re Satoru Gojo, You talk to girls all the time.
Why are you acting like a malfunctioning robot?!
You took another sip of your drink, still watching him curiously.
Gojo glanced around the room. Then, in a desperate attempt to change the subject before he embarrassed himself further, he said, “You uh… haven’t been at the parties for a while.”
You paused mid sip. “Oh.” you nodded carefully. “Yeah. I don’t really party that often. I’ve had a lot of work to do.”
Gojo’s interest piqued. “Work?”
You nodded again. “Yup. Studying for midterms, you know how it is.”
That caught his attention more than he expected. “For over a month? What’s your major?”
You didn’t hesitate. “Neuroscience.”
Gojo paused. “...seriously?”
You smiled a little. “Yeah.”
Wow. Neuroscience. That was not an easy major. Not even remotely.
And for some reason hearing that made something shift in his brain. Because up until now, he’d mostly just been distracted by how hot you were. But this– this added a whole new layer.
“Neuroscience, huh,” he said slowly. He rubbed the back of his neck, head down, eyes still smiling up at you. “Brains n’ stuff.”
You laughed softly. “Yeah.” Your grin this time was genuine and warm. “I really enjoy it.”
You propped your elbow against the wall, turning to face him, absently rolling the ice in your cup as you spoke. “It’s a lot of work, but the benefits can help so many people.” your eyes lit up when you said it. “Understanding the brain could improve treatments for so many neurological disorders. And they’re so much more common than you think..”
Gojo stared at you while you talked, going through the difficulty of the classes, your labs, internships. His brain was rewiring an entirely fresh list of information about you.
You were beautiful. Like boot kicking, jaw dropping beautiful.
Strong enough to put him in his place without hesitation.
And now, apparently incredibly intelligent.
You weren’t some random girl drifting through frat parties, you were someone with goals. Someone serious. You had this presence about you– something steady and self-sufficient that made people pay attention to you without even trying. The kind of presence that demanded disrespect. The same presence he had instinctively objectified the first time he met you.
Gojo rubbed the back of his neck again. His brain was suddenly very loud.
She’s way cooler than you.
Like… significantly cooler.
You tilted your head again, noticing his silence. “What?”
Gojo blinked. “…nothing.”
You raised an eyebrow. He exhaled quietly, a small grin tugging at his mouth despite himself.
“…I just wasn’t expecting neuroscience.”
You smirked slightly. “What were you expecting?”
He thought about that for a second. Then shrugged. “I don’t know.” His eyes flicked down briefly to your sequin top. “Something less… brainy.”
You laughed again, and the sound made something warm settle in his chest. “Well,” you said. “I contain multitudes.”
He opened his mouth to say something else
But suddenly someone came barreling through the crowd.
A blur of blonde hair and excitement slammed to a stop beside you. Becca.
Gojo’s eyebrow slowly lifted at the nickname.
Becca grabbed your arm like she had urgent news, her eyes were practically glowing. “Midterm scores are out!”
You groaned immediately. “Oh my god, Becca—”
“And you got the highest score in the entire science department.”
Gojo went quiet for a beat. His mind attempted to process that sentence.
You sighed dramatically, dragging a hand down your face. “Becca, we’re at a party to avoid looking at grades,” you said, half laughing despite yourself. “Stop it.” But there was still a smile creeping onto your face, the kind you couldn’t fully suppress.
Becca grinned right back at you. “I’m just saying,” she said proudly. “First place in the whole UTokyo science department is kind of insane.”
Gojo’s head snapped slightly toward you. “Hold on,” he said. His voice had a little more weight now. “You got first?”
Becca nodded enthusiastically before you could answer. “She did.”
Gojo stared at you. UTokyo’s science department was… not small– It was brutal. Students studied until three in the morning and were still worried they were falling behind, because most of the time, they were.
And you were apparently sitting at the top of it.
You groaned again, but there was a little pride tucked into your smile now. “Please stop announcing that at a frat party,” you muttered.
Then you suddenly turned toward Gojo, your expression shifting slightly. “Oh.” You winced. “I’m sorry, that was rude.” You gestured between the two of them. “Becca, this is—” you paused thoughtfully, looking at him. “—hopefully ex-asshole, Gojo.” Then you pointed to Becca. “Ex-asshole, this is Becca Myers. Biochem major.”
Becca stuck out her hand immediately. Gojo stared at it for half a second. He wasn’t used to handshakes at parties, usually introductions went more like “this is my friend Sarah, wanna take her up for a quick fuck?” But he took it anyway. Her handshake was firm.
“How could I forget?” she said, then her grin widened.
Gojo narrowed his eyes slightly. “Forget what.”
Becca leaned slightly toward you. “Slap guy.”
Gojo groaned immediately. “Oh my god.”
“I’ll be better,” he said dramatically. “I promise.”
“You better,” you replied.
Becca watched the two of you with the quiet satisfaction of someone who was thoroughly enjoying the dynamic. Then she glanced over her shoulder toward the living room. “Oh—” She kissed your cheek quickly. “Okay, I’m going to go back to Brayden now.” She squeezed your arm. “See ya later, Squeaky.”
You smiled easily. “Bye, Duck.”
Becca saluted you with her drink before disappearing back into the crowd, Gojo watched her go before slowly turning back to you. His eyebrow was raised again. “…Duck?”
You rubbed the back of your neck, laughing a little.
Gojo tilted his head slightly. “And you’re… Squeaky.”
He crossed his arms loosely over his chest. “Alright.” A beat. “I need context.”
You snorted softly. “Fair.” You adjusted your footing, thinking for a second. “Becca and I have been best friends since birth. Literally. Our moms were friends.” You tapped the rim of your cup absentmindedly. “When we were little we both bought matching rubber ducks at some random toy store.”
Gojo’s mouth twitched. “Oh no.”
You nodded seriously. “Very important ducks.”
“Becca named hers Duck, the creative genius.” You pointed at yourself. “I named mine Squeaky. Slightly more innovative, but it ended up biting me in the ass later.”
Gojo let out a quiet laugh. “That tracks.”
You sighed dramatically. “And then tragedy struck.”
Gojo leaned slightly forward. “Tragedy.”
He sucked in a sympathetic breath.
“I know.” You shook your head.“So we vowed to honor their memory. We changed our names into their namesakes forever.”
Gojo stared at you for a moment, then laughed. Not just a polite chuckle, a real laugh. “You experienced traumatic death in the family, huh? Explains why you hit like a truck.”
You grinned. “No, that’s just because of my high intensity ninja training.”
Gojo nodded thoughtfully.
“Ah yes, the ninja training.”
He crossed his arms again over his chest. “So…” His eyes flicked back toward you. “First in the science college.”
You sighed. “Apparently.”
“How come you’re at a frat party?”
You tilted your head, confused. He gestured vaguely around the room. “You seem a little too… intellectual for this crowd.”
You looked around the party for a moment.
Someone screaming bloody murder at a beer pong table.
Then you shrugged. “I don’t really see it that way.”
Gojo tilted his head. “How so.”
You thought about it for a second. “I mean,” you said slowly, “yeah, I’m technically pretty good at school.”
Gojo snorted. “Technically.”
You rolled your eyes. “But that doesn’t suddenly make everyone else stupid.” You took another sip of your drink. “I think it’s kind of… wrong to think like that.”
Gojo watched you quietly.
“Just because someone isn’t the best at school doesn’t mean they’re less interesting or less smart.” You gestured toward the living room where someone was loudly celebrating a pong shot. “Everyone’s good at different things.” You shrugged again. “And parties are fun no matter your brain level sometimes.”
Gojo stared at you. Because that answer was not what he expected, not even a little. Most people he’d met who were that smart, especially the ones who knew they were that smart, had this subtle edge to them. A superiority complex, a quiet sense that they were operating on a higher plane than everyone else.
But you, You said it like it genuinely never occurred to you to look down on anyone, like intelligence wasn’t something you used to elevate yourself above other people. It was just… a thing you happened to have, something you were using to the best of your ability. While still having fun.
Gojo realized he had been staring a little too long.
He cleared his throat. “…huh.”
You glanced at him and smiled, rolling your eyes. “What now? If you zone out one more time I might just have to electrocute you.”
He chuckled. “Nothing. You’re just…” He paused, searching for the right word. “…weirdly cool.”
You nudged his arm lightly. “I’ll take it.”
Gojo looked at you again, really looked. And something settled in his chest, hot, dangerous.
Because the more he learned about you, the more he liked you.
Which was… extremely inconvenient for someone who had spent the last three years avoiding exactly that.
The party was still raging around you—music vibrating through the floor, people shouting over beer pong somewhere in the living room, someone laughing way too loudly near the staircase. But the space around the living room wall felt oddly separate from it all, like the noise existed somewhere outside a small bubble the two of you had accidentally stepped into.
You glanced down at your wrist, and then you made a small face “Oh—”
You were checking your watch. “…shit.” You exhaled through your nose. “It’s one.”
Gojo almost whined. Already?
You rolled your shoulders slightly, looking mildly regretful. “I should probably head home. I’ve got a lab at nine in the morning.” You tapped your watch.
Gojo felt a quiet, immediate wave of disappointment roll through him, which was ridiculous. You’d only been talking for… what, twenty minutes? Maybe thirty? But somehow that already felt way too short.
You smiled at him though, warm and genuine. “Well,” you said, gesturing loosely around the house, “this is your frat, right?”
“Thanks for hosting.” You shifted your purse strap slightly on your shoulder. “I had a good time.”
Gojo leaned one shoulder against the counter. A small smirk tugged at his mouth. “You’re welcome anytime.” And he meant that more than he probably should.
You gave him a small nod and started turning toward the door.
Gojo watched you take two steps.
“…Can I walk you home?” The words slipped out before he had fully thought them through.
You stopped and slowly turned back toward him, one eyebrow lifted. “Really?” You gestured vaguely toward the party. “You wanna leave?”
Gojo shrugged casually, shoving his hands into his pockets. His heart was beating a little harder than usual as he looked at you, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Normally, you’d be right, I’d stay here till the sun came up,” he admitted. “…but eh.” His gaze settled on you. “I’d rather make sure you get home safe, Squeaky.”
You stared at him for a moment, smiling. It was soft and a little amused. “I mean,” you said lightly, “as you know, I pack a killer punch, so I think I’ll be fine.” You flexed your hand slightly.
Gojo chuckled. “So I’ve heard.”
You tilted your head. “But if you still wanna come along you’re welcome to.”
Gojo nodded once. The truth was incredibly simple, he just wanted to spend more time with you. “Humor me, Squeaky.” He pushed himself off the counter. “Let me walk you home.”
You smiled and adjusted your purse strap again. “Okay. Let’s do it, Snowman.”
Gojo paused mid-step. “…Snowman?”
You pointed lazily at his hair. “White hair.”
“Fair.” A slow grin spread across his face. “I kinda like it.”
Together you pushed through the front door and out onto the porch. The music immediately muffled behind the walls. Outside, the night was quiet, cool. The streetlights cast soft yellow pools of light across the sidewalk, and most of campus had already settled into that late-night calm that came after midnight.Your apartment building was only a few blocks away.
You started walking, and Gojo fell into step beside you. For a minute neither of you spoke,
just the sound of shoes on pavement and distant music leaking from the house behind you. Then a cold breeze drifted down the street. You shivered slightly, Gojo noticed immediately. Without saying anything he pulled his sweatshirt off over his head and held it out to you. You looked at it. Then at him. “…how cliche”
“Just take it.” He groaned. “Don’t want you freezing your ass off, Squeaky.”
You laughed softly but took it, pulling it over your head. It was warm, smelling faintly like laundry detergent and something else—something vaguely clean and familiar.
You pushed the sleeves up slightly. “Won’t I be even colder with a snowman's hoodie?”
Gojo rolled his eyes dramatically. “Oh, Har. Har. Very funny.” He bumped his shoulder lightly against yours. “It’s not about the temperature,” he added with fake seriousness. “It’s about my incredible fashion sense.”
You gasped softly. “Oh right, I apologize for my misinformation.” You gestured at him like you were presenting something. “My favorite designer—Gojo Satoru, presenting his ‘frat boy esque’ collection.”
He bowed his head slightly.
He laughed, a real laugh, and the two of you kept walking, talking about nothing. Classes, stupid professors, random campus drama. You told him about the time someone accidentally set a lab microwave on fire. He told you about the time one of the frat guys fell asleep in a washing machine during a party. The conversation flowed easily, effortlessly, the kind of back-and-forth where neither person had to think too hard about what came next.
By the time your apartment building came into view, Gojo realized something uncomfortable: he didn’t want the walk to end. You slowed slightly as you approached the entrance, then you stopped in front of the large clear sliding doors.
“This is the place.” You turned toward him, smiling. “Thanks for walking me, Gojo. I really appreciate it.”
He shrugged casually. “No biggie, Squeaky.” He glanced at the building entrance. “You sure you’re gonna be fine from here?”
You snorted, pulling his sweatshirt off and handing it back to him. “Ooh I dunno…going up an elevator…” Your voice dropped to a spooky whisper. “Reeeeally scary stuff.”
Gojo rolled his eyes. “Wow. You’re so tough. I’m literally terrified for your safety. ”
He crossed his arms and you grinned.
The two of you stood there for another second, then Gojo hesitated, something tugging at the back of his brain. He scratched the back of his neck slightly. “…hey.”
“Text me when you get inside.” He nodded toward the building. “So I know the elevator didn’t eat ya.”
You stared at him, then you smiled. “Gojo…” You tilted your head. “I don’t have your number, silly.”
Gojo froze, immediately facepalming. “…Right.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket quickly. “Your number, Squeaky. Gimme. I’m serious.” He pointed at the screen.
You laughed. “Careful, I’m a very passionate texter.” You took the phone and typed.
“I will be reaching out to let you know every time I’m on the toilet.”
You handed his phone back. “Boundaries are already broken.”
He saved your contact, then looked up at you again. “…Squeaky.”
“Snowman.” You gave a small wave. “Goodnight.”
Then you turned and walked inside, the glass doors shutting behind you.
Gojo stood on the sidewalk for another few seconds, staring at the building. Waiting.
Finally his phone buzzed.
Squeaky 🦆
elevator attempted to bite but I escaped successfully.
Gojo laughed quietly to himself, typing back.
Snowman ☃️
good. sleep tight.
He slipped his phone back into his pocket, starting to walk back toward the frat house. And somewhere around halfway down the block, the realization hit him. Hard.
He wasn’t even mad about it.
Current taglist for miniseries: @deartoru @lovebythuuu @ppnutz @darthasphodel @cupidslie @man1cslut @superstaargirl
