Katsukijo - 𝒌𝒂𝒕𝒔𝒖𝒌𝒊𝒋𝒐

gojo would've won if..

Someone pls continue yalls nerdjo fanfics pls😭😭😭

Escort! Satoru- part five

Pairings- Escort Satoru Gojo x shy CEO F! reader

Warnings- mutual pining like a mf, obsessed ass/whipped ass Gojo, mutual pining, lots of yearninggg, kissing (I KNOW YAYYY) dry humping, teasing, fingering, public play, fluffy and cute- there will be a part six! (final) pretty woman vibes 🤭

<<<Part Four

Escort! Satoru finally does it, he asks you on that date, watching the shock in your eyes, the trembling of your lips as you step back, and Satoru feels it then, the hammering of his heart. Is it too late? Should he have reached out again to you after the first night, when you didn't answer? His blue eyes peer at you over those glasses, as the sunlight beats down on your skin, making his cheeks just a little reddened, striking across his pale skin.

Escort! Satoru eases his hands gently off your face, when you swallow nervously - he hurt you so badly that night, the embarrassment of asking him to hold you, dying for a mere kiss on the lips. How could you be so foolish, truly, you had to try to forget him in any way you could, after sleeping with him and knowing he would never be yours, always sharing him, he was just there because of your money and maybe he enjoyed it. But it wasn't more.

Escort! Satoru realizes how much he fucking missed you now, as if some void is filled by your presence, but you lower his hands gently, holding them for a moment. 'I was so...' stupid, you were stupid 'I'm very sorry I asked you for things you never do,' you sigh, looking around, seeing people walk by. 'I should have respected your-' Satoru stops you then, tilting your chin up, your gaze focused on him. 'I should have held you, okay? I'm sorry...' you feel your eyes fill with the tears, as words you've dreamed of are spoken, and they feel just like that- a dream. 'I want a real date, could we?'

Escort! Satoru eyes you when your phone rings, and you look down nervously. 'I have a date tonight, the first in... years' Satoru steps back now, glaring at you. 'With who?' you blink in surprise. 'Why does it matter to you? Do you think after months I wouldn't ever wanna try?' Satoru grips your wrist, thumb brushing against the veins gently, sending shivers down your spine, as he tries to compose himself, he has no right to be so mad, so jealous. 'Fine, then give me a date after' he murmurs, desperate for you, how can he see you and not try? After everything he's been yearning for appears before him, and he knows how badly he fucked up. 'I don't know...' you want to, god you do, but you also know how badly Satoru can hurt you, uniquely. 'Please just, give me a chance to explain myself, to be myself and not...' he trails off, the wind blows gently and a little blossom lands on your hair, which he sweetly brushes away. 'One chance'

Escort! Satoru is furious thinking about anyone touching you, though it's toxic and unrealistic in every aspect. His job was to touch, though he'd throw it all away if you asked, god he would, because he doesn't find joy in any of it. No amount of money fills this emptiness, but he never thought he'd have a chance with you - only to ruin it. 'I'll go out with you this weekend, but you pick the place, and pick me up' you say softly, his heart thuds as he nods eagerly, desperate and pathetic for you - something he's never been until you ruined him with just your energy, your body, that laugh he'd love to have back. Memories of your night fill him then, as he aches to touch you, to know you, to kiss you.

Escort! Satoru plans the date to a tee, but the whole time he's wondering - where are you going, and with who? Would you prefer them over him? Meanwhile you're trying to get through that date, mind wandering, you just tried to open up for the first time since Satoru broke your heart - even if it was your own fault. You try to smile, and enjoy him, a handsome man that surely was perfect on paper, and interested in you. As the night goes on and the drinks pour, you think to yourself, you should try, letting him kiss you at the end of the evening, wondering what you'll feel. It's nice, but it's nothing like just being near Satoru. Frustrated almost to tears, you're laying in bed that night, as the man in your head that you almost pushed down enough, is back front and center.

Escort! Satoru can't stand it, knowing you're on a date, he almost texts you so many times before he caves - 'ready for our date?'- he smirks, hoping your with whoever it was. But you don't answer him for hours, until you finally write him - yes - and that's it, no sweet banter like the two of you had. It's different, had you really already moved on? He trembles as he texts you - 'how was the date?' - and you write - 'it was fine, any jobs tonight? - and that's when he realizes you're mad. The sweetest girl he met is so clearly mad. He hadn't taken a job tonight, and he's cancelled his week, but he gets it clearly. - 'no job tonight, I'm excited to see you' - He's never said that to anyone. You heart the message, emotions catching, excitement but apprehension in equal parts, you just don't know if he's serious, you're so scared to let go again.

Escort! Satoru picks you up that night in his car, some little Maserati sports car that looks like it goes way too fast. You can't act like he's not sexy as fuck as he steps out of it, opening your door and grinning at you, but you try to hold back, smiling with a 'thank you' as you slide in next to him. Satoru's hand craves to press on your thigh, but fuck if he's not nervous, he hasn't had a date since he started this career despite his job being to go on dates, not a real one, not with someone he asked. He's damn near shaking with his nerves, trying to play it off, as he drives through the quiet streets, smiling over at you with a quirk of his lips. 'You look beautiful' his words make you flustered, nervously tugging a bit on the gorgeous dress you're wearing, glittering like the stars in the sky - fuck your very skin itself glitters. 'you're saying it truly this time?'

Escort! Satoru glares now, foot on his break, scowling at you. 'what do you mean truly? you think I didn't mean any of it?' you blink back unexpected tears, looking out the dark tinted window as he drives once more. 'It was your job, that's all, and I told you I took it too far, you shouldn't feel bad that happened. I - ah!' he skids to a stop suddenly, pulling off the side of the road, and unbuckling your seatbelt so fast you can barely register. He's got you on his lap so fast, as cars whirl by, shaking the fucking car and shocking you further, as he handles you like it's nothing. You brace your hands on his chest, so nervous now, hands clenching the black jacket of his tux, breaths faster and faster. 'You are beautiful, I never said that because of a job' he swipes away your tears, lips hovering over yours, as he exhales, breath tickling your lips. 'What are you doing, Satoru?' your whisper is weak, as he drags you even closer, and his eyes dart to your lips. 'What I should have done that night'

Escort! Satoru slams his lips on yours then and there, you feel it like hot, electric shots going through your body when he does, when he's pressing those plush, glossy lips on yours, and you're shattering over him, lost in his kiss. Satoru has never felt anything like it, like finally kissing you, his tongue slipping in your mouth, drinking up your every cry, every gasp, as you roll your hips just right, and he feels the heat he's been dying for against his aching cock. 'Fuck...' his hushed words are met with your little cry, which just has him dragging you down harder, ready to devour every sweet inch of you, but barely being able to drag himself from your lips, gasping as he pulls back, eyes meeting yours, glimmering now. 'Satoru you... kissed me...' you're close to crying now, trembling as he sighs, cupping your pretty face, the one that's haunted him. 'I've wanted to since I first saw you'

Escort! Satoru keeps kissing you, over and over, desperate and messy, you almost cum just from that friction against you, his teeth sinking into your lower lip, as his huge hands press into your skin. 'I need you, fuck I need you sweetheart- god you have no clue' you're easing back, struggling to compose yourself. 'Am I so VIP?' you tease softly, and he feels it then, the soft way you're asking - not judging, but scared. He exhales, resting his head on yours, shaking his head and pulling you down again. 'I'll gladly delete my whole fucking profile, for a chance with you' his words sink in fully. Your cheeks are hot under his gentle touch. 'I just don't... Satoru, you don't have to do this for me. I understand...' He kisses you once more, before your phone rings.

Escort! Satoru glares, and you can't help but giggle. 'Are you jealous?' he just sets his jaw, as you look over and see it, holding the phone with a shaky hand, and he pulls you harder on his cock, having your eyes roll back in your skull. 'Tell him you're on a date' he whispers, gripping you so tight, before easing you to sit back in your seat, kissing you over and over. 'Let's get there, okay?' you're trying to compose yourself, seeing him shift and wince while he drives once more, pouting. 'You enjoying my pain, sweets?' you can't help but giggle again. The date is pretty and serene, the restaraunt on the roof top, swathed in moonlight. Satoru feeds you carefully, the two of you sharing dessert, talking and laughing like the first time he fucking met you - when he knew then, something was so special about you, something he could never pin fully, but he sees it, with how the candle light hits your face, your sweet blush as his hand slips up your thigh.

Escort! Satoru is not happy to learn you've had a kiss, and your amused little smile is quickly lost, when he slips his fingers between your thighs, and you wildly look around, as he smirks at you. 'That's cute, you kissed? did you like that?' he's taunting now, possessive gaze, that you can't get enough of, fuck you want all of him, even though you're scared, so scared to be hurt again. He's pressing his fingers against your panties, which are soaked, watching as your eyes get lidded, hand gripping the thick white cloth, and he slips under then, feeling the heat he'd been dying for, leaning in close. 'Asked you a question, hmm?' you lean closer, hips shifting, jerking as he thumbs your twitchy little clit, making you gush. 'Would you be mad if I liked it, Satoru?' he sighs, slipping two fingers in your slick hole, making you almost moan in the fucking restaurant now. 'You're wet for me, aren't you, all me?' He's curling them now, acting so casual as a waitress refills your wine, and you pray no one hears the squishing noises your juices are making.

Escort! Satoru can't help but suck you off his fingers, right before he makes you cum, and you're throbbing around nothing, wanting. You're clenching your teeth as you watch, as if he's finishing his dessert- and when he tastes you again!? He can barely control himself, eyes dilated while you sink into his tastebuds, ready to finally give you what you want, and need, and deserve, fuck you so good you can't function, and hold and kiss you. Satoru slips his lips on yours in front of the restaurant, and you taste yourself, whining into his lips. Suddenly a girl sees him, a frequent client who'd gotten too obsessed, and walks right up to him, crossing her arms. He eases back in the seat, as you look down shyly, unsure of who she is. 'I'm on a date' his words make your heart flutter now, as she glares. 'ah, so you do kiss? was this some special package, do you know how expensive you are?' you bite back a smile, and Satoru just grins, shaking his head like a little shit. 'It's different, she's my girlfriend.'

Escort! Satoru blushes when you whisper 'your girlfriend, huh?' in his ear moments later, as a very angry client stomps off, and he brushes back your hair, hard body against yours, studying your face. 'Would you... be my girlfriend?'

I need one more part for these two - it'll probably be all sex lolll hope you enjoy this one!

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❅ 𝐳𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞!𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 ❅

steal my girl — gojo satoru

synopsis. the time gojo and megumi decided to crash your date.

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo roping megumi into his loser activities, timeskips, tw sappy

notes. this drabble has been rotting in my brain for over a year. finally wrote it!

“I’m going on a date.”

It only took five simple words from you to make the world’s strongest jujutsu sorcerer drop to his knees. For the first time in his life, Gojo could swear he was experiencing shortness of breath. And was it just him, or were the walls closing in?

“What?” The word leaves his mouth like a demand rather than a question. He’s trying so hard not to overreact, but your overjoyed face makes it nearly impossible not to succumb to the ugly green monster clawing at his insides.

“Well,” you push his shoulder playfully. “Don’t act so surprised. You’re not the only one that pulls.”

“Don’t I know it,” Gojo mutters under his breath, eye twitching. Don’t you know how hard he works to deter any suitors vying for your attention when the two of you are out? He’s practically a rabid dog growling at anyone who so much as breathes in your direction.

Hell, even Shoko once mentioned to him something about being a “registered pervert” at most establishments you frequent together.

 Not his finest moments.

You eye Satoru suspiciously before continuing. That was your first mistake.

“Yeah, he’s taking me to that new Michelin Star restaurant downtown,” you sigh dreamily. “I mean, seriously. Isn’t that so cool?”

Gojo scoffs, arms crossing over his chest. “If that’s what you wanted, you could’ve just said so. I know a place that has three Michelin Stars.”

You pout. “Well, it’s different with you.”

Gojo’s eyebrow quirks up. “How so?”

“You’re a friend. And with him…” You trail off, suddenly feeling shy under Gojo’s piercing gaze. Heat creeps up your neck, blooming across your cheeks as you toy with the hem of your sleeve. “It’s a lot more romantic.”

Gojo thinks he could just die.

The word romantic rings in his ears, and it was deafening. It digs into his ribs and squeezes at something raw inside him. He’s the strongest sorcerer alive, yet right now, he feels utterly powerless against the way your voice softens when you talk about someone else. Against the way your lips curve at the thought of another man.

He scoffs, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Romantic, huh?” His voice is light, teasing, but there’s an edge to it.

You nod, eyes glimmering with something dreamy, something distant, and Gojo wants to reach out and wipe it away. He wants that look—wants to be the reason for it.

If you wanted romance, he could give you romance.

Better romance.

A grand plan manifests in his head, spinning to life at full speed. 

Oh, this poor guy doesn’t stand a chance.

The moment Megumi sees Gojo enter his and Tsumiki’s shared apartment, he knows something is wrong. There’s a certain energy in the air, a distinct lack of peace that Gojo drags with him that makes the eight year old’s stomach churn.

“Fushiguro!” Gojo’s voice rings out, far too enthusiastic for Megumi’s liking. “We have a problem.”

Megumi barely glances up from his book. “We?”

Gojo makes himself at home and slings an arm around his shoulders. “Yes, we. Our dear [Name] here has a date.”

Megumi's grip on his book tightens, his interest sparking at the mention of you. Where Gojo lacked maturity, you balanced it effortlessly. He liked that about you. He liked you.

Megumi blinks once. “And?”

Gojo sighs dramatically. “And we can’t just let her go unprotected, can we?”

“Unprotected?” Megumi repeats, deadpan. “From what? Bad table manners?”

“From heartbreak, Megumi!” Gojo places a hand over his chest, looking scandalized. “What if this guy is a total loser? What if he chews with his mouth open? What if he’s a handsy creep?”

Megumi’s expression darkens. He had been indifferent before, but now there’s a flicker of irritation in his eyes. He doesn’t like the idea of you being stuck with some no-good scrub who isn’t worthy. In a series of twisted events, you and that white haired idiot had managed to become the only constants in his life. The last thing he wanted was for some random guy to come along and take you away.

“We need to intervene,” Gojo presses, watching the flicker of hesitation in Megumi’s expression. His usual deadpan exterior is cracking, just a little. Gojo knows he has him.

Megumi exhales sharply, gripping his book a little too tightly. “I am not going to ruin their date.” His voice is firm, but there’s a sliver of doubt wedged between the words. Gojo seizes it like a cat pouncing on its prey.

“Ruin?” Gojo gasps, placing a dramatic hand over his chest. “Megumi, this is purely a background check.” His grin stretches.

Megumi glares at him. “It could be considered stalking.”

Gojo waves him off. “Pfft. Such an ugly word. I prefer ‘protective oversight’.”

“You don’t even know if he’s a bad person.”

Gojo tilts his head, feigning deep thought. “Oh, you’re right. Maybe he’s perfect. Maybe he’ll take such good care of her that we won’t be needed anymore.”

Megumi stiffens, and Gojo bites back a smirk.

“That’s not—” Megumi starts, but Gojo steamrolls over him.

“I mean, think about it. If this date goes well, they might actually start dating. And then what? She’ll start spending more time with him.” Gojo nudges him. “She’ll run off and start a new family.”

Megumi’s jaw tightens. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously right,” Gojo corrects cheerfully. 

Megumi runs a hand down his face, muttering under his breath. He already knows Gojo won’t drop this, and, annoyingly, he’s already planted the seed of doubt in his mind.

Gojo leans in, voice lower, almost serious. “You care about her, don’t you?”

Megumi exhales sharply. “...Yeah.”

“And you’d rather make sure she’s safe than sit around wondering?”

Megumi stares at him for a long moment, then groans. “Fine. But if this goes wrong, I’m blaming you.”

Gojo grins, clapping him on the back. “That’s the spirit! Now, let’s go before you start growing a conscience.”

The night was supposed to be perfect. A well earned break. It your first real date in a while. Probably your first since meeting Gojo. Though, strangely, you’d never stopped to question why that was.

The guy sitting across from you was a non-sorcerer, and while his looks had been enough to catch your attention when he first asked you out, the novelty was wearing off fast. His personality was as flat and each word he spoke draining more of your enthusiasm. You found yourself nodding along absently, barely listening, already regretting your decision.

Still, you just had to stick it out until the food arrived. Then you could eat, make an excuse, and be done with this painfully dull evening.

Though, just when you thought the night was starting to get interesting, a familiar voice cuts through the elegant ambiance of the restaurant.

“Mom, who is this strange man?”

Your choke on your wine at the familiar voice while your date stiffens.

You turn slowly, dread pooling in your stomach as you come face-to-face with Megumi, standing at your table with his arms crossed. His expression is perfectly deadpan, but you see the flicker of mischief in his eyes, a familiar gleam of mischief that could only be the work of a certain white-haired man lurking nearby.

“E-eh?!” You sputter, glancing between Megumi and your date.

Your date looks thoroughly confused. “Do you… know this child?”

“N-no—I mean, yes, but—”

Megumi doesn’t give you a chance to explain. Instead, he sighs dramatically, shaking his head. “And what will Gojo—Dad—say about this?”

The words slam into you like a truck.

Your date’s jaw drops. “You’re married?”

“N-no!”

“Then why is he calling you Mom?”

You glare at Megumi, but he just shrugs, completely unbothered.

“Come home,” Megumi continues with a sigh. “Tsumiki misses you too.”

“You have multiple children?!”

Your date looks absolutely horrified, like he’s just found himself in the middle of a scandalous affair. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Listen, if you’re going through a divorce or something, we don’t have to do this—”

Before you can defend yourself, another, far-too-cheerful voice joins in.

“There you are, sweetheart!”

Gojo waltzes up to the table, dressed in his finest suit and those damn glasses he only wore on special occasions. He places a hand on your shoulder and turns to your date with an exaggeratedly apologetic expression. “Sorry, buddy, but this one’s a real work. You know it took me two kids to finally tie her down?”

Your date glances between you, Megumi, and Gojo, his eyes wide with pure panic, as if he’s just stumbled into something far beyond his comprehension. His grip tightens around his napkin, knuckles white. “I—I think I should go.”

You lurch forward, reaching out as if that might stop him. “No, wait—!”

But it’s already too late. He’s scrambling for his coat, chair scraping loudly against the floor as he pushes back from the table, nearly knocking over his drink in his rush. Without sparing you another glance, he spins on his heel and all but bolts toward the exit, shoulders hunched as if he’s trying to make himself smaller.

You sit frozen for a second, blinking at the now-empty seat across from you. Then, slowly, you turn toward the culprits, fists clenched at your sides.

“You two,” you hiss, voice low and simmering with fury, “are in serious trouble.”

Megumi has the decency to look guilty, staring down at his lap, shifting awkwardly in his seat as if he’s just now realizing the full extent of what they’ve done.

Gojo, on the other hand, is utterly shameless. He stands there in all his smug glory, adjusting his sunglasses with a satisfied smirk. 

You grab your purse and storm out of the restaurant, with the two trailing behind you like two guilty kids.

“You know,” Gojo muses, “I think that went pretty well.”

You round on him so fast that even he takes a step back. “Pretty well?! You humiliated me! That poor guy thinks I have an entire secret family!”

Gojo snickers. “Well, technically, you do.”

You jab a finger into his chest. “You are not my husband.”

“But wouldn’t it be great if I was?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

Megumi lets out a long sigh. “Please don’t entertain him. I’m sorry, [Name].” His blue eyes are trained onto the floor, “I just didn’t think he was good enough for you.”

You exhale sharply, some of your anger ebbing as you glance between the two of them.

“It’s okay, Megumi,” you sigh, your frustration softening at the sight of his guilty expression. You could never stay mad at him, not with that face.

Gojo, however, was a different story.

Slowly, you turn to him, eyes narrowing. “You—”

He grins, entirely unrepentant. “Me?”

Oh, he was so in for it.

Although he had been shamelessly unapologetic at the time, Gojo still found ways to complain about that night, even years later, after you were finally married.

“It was an unusually cruel punishment,” your husband whines dramatically, draping his entire body weight onto you as if his sheer presence could sway your sympathy.

“You mean the silent treatment?” you deadpan, eyes still trained on Megumi practicing his cursed technique across the yard. “It was only a week. Could’ve been longer if you hadn’t harassed everyone around me until they practically begged me to forgive you.”

Gojo lifts his head just enough to shoot you an exaggerated pout. “I don’t harass people. I simply exist, and they just happen to find me irresistible.”

“You tend to have the exact opposite effect, actually.”

“Ten years later, and you’re still so cruel to me.” He sighs heavily, as if burdened by the weight of your terrible treatment, before shoving his face into the crook of your neck. “You wound me, wife.”

You laugh, warmth bubbling in your chest as his breath tickles your skin. “You’re impossible.”

A loud thud interrupts the moment, and you both glance over just in time to see Megumi scowling, his stance off from a misstep in his training.

“You are still disgusting after all of these years,” he grumbles, adjusting his form before going at it again.

Gojo beams. “Aww, he likes us.”

You shake your head, smiling. “He tolerates us.”

“Eh, same thing.” Gojo squeezes you tighter, pressing a loud, obnoxious kiss to your cheek just to be insufferable.

Megumi groans. “Seriously, get a room.”

Gojo smirks, wiggling his brows. “Don’t tempt me, kid.”

Gojo notices you for the first time on a Tuesday. You’re standing by the lockers, struggling with a key that keeps slipping out of your perfectly manicured fingers, wearing this tiny pink sweater that looks like it belongs in a pop star’s closet.

He’s not trying to stare. He’s really not.

He’s supposed to be flipping through his Digimon forum on his phone, checking on a debate about whether Wargreymon could beat Beelzemon in a hypothetical fight (he totally could). But his brain blanks the second he catches sight of you.

You’re like... a Disney princess if she got dropped into the middle of their ugly beige school hallways.

Lip gloss shining. Hair perfect. Little clueless frown on your face as you poke at your locker.

And maybe it’s stupid, but something about it makes Gojo’s heart thud.

He watches you finally wrestle the locker open with a triumphant little squeak, giggling to yourself. The sound actually makes him smile like an idiot.

(He immediately ducks his head, pretending to be very invested in his phone.)

You notice him, too.

Because how could you not? He’s tall and kind of awkward, standing there with a backpack covered in little Digimon pins and messy white hair falling over round blue-tinted glasses.

You tilt your head, curious. He doesn’t match the hallway’s vibe. At all. Too bright. Too weird. You like it. You give him a little smile—soft, polite, almost teasing.

He freezes.

Actually freezes.

You think he might bolt like a spooked cat, but instead, he lifts one hand in a clumsy, half-hearted wave.

You giggle under your breath and turn back to your locker, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. He watches you walk away, feeling like someone just unplugged his brain.

In another life, maybe he would’ve said something. Asked your name. Told you about the Digivice buried in his backpack.

But today, it’s just a glance. A smile. A spark. Something small. Something real. And Gojo thinks— (he hopes) it might not be the last time.

A/n: so... Part two?? or nah.. lol...

"𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄"

𝘮𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘮𝘪 𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘰

In which, Megumi is certain he could never match your boldness. From the very moment you crossed paths, you had the sheer audacity to ask him out, as if fate had already decided for the both of you. By some twist of luck—or misfortune, as he first thought—he eventually relented after finding himself stranded in a mall with you and his classmates. Now, as he's stuck with his decision lingering in the air, he isn't quite sure what to do with himself.

Surely, he hasn't gone and fallen for some random, starry-eyed girl... Has he?

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────

"What?"

"Can you take me out?"

"..."

"..."

"Like... take you out... with a gun?" Megumi squinted at the girl, deliberately playing dumb for the sake of his own sanity.

In the thirty seconds he’d known you, he still couldn’t decide if this was some kind of elaborate prank or an unforeseen psychological endurance test.

You were just some random girl, balancing a volleyball in one hand and a drink in the other, looking as if you had all the time in the world. He had bumped into you, apologized, and somehow, in the span of a heartbeat, you had turned this into a flirtation.

And the way you stood there—completely unshaken, your expression unwavering—only deepened his confusion. Did you even realize how reckless your words sounded? Were you joking, or was this an actual death wish?

Logic told him to walk away. Instead, he indulged you.

"You’re funny, but the answer’s no." you chuckled, an effortless, unbothered smile spreading across your face. "I meant, take me out on a date."

It was a nice smile, Megumi noted absently, but it threw him off. He had seen confessions before—people fumbling over words, faces flushed with embarrassment—yet here you were, standing before him, calm and composed as if asking for a date was as routine as ordering food off of a menu.

"...You... I don’t even know your name." His voice was slower this time, laced with uncertainty.

"Y/N L/N. That’s my name."

A faint twitch formed beneath his eye, frustration—or something like it—surfacing. You were too casual, too self-assured, and it was messing with his composure.

He had no idea how to react. Who even were you? And why was this happening in the middle of a dimly lit subway station?

The air was thick with the scent of iron and concrete, the distant hum of an approaching train filling the silence between you and he can't help but feel trapped.

"...So... would you take me on a date? Or would you rather I take you on one? Both seem like pretty good options." You tilted your head slightly when he averted his gaze.

"...I—I don’t get it. What... Why would you even want to date me? We just met." Megumi stuttered.

The headache was inevitable now. Normally, turning people down wasn’t an issue for him—he was blunt by nature. But you? For some reason, he hesitated. It frustrated him how easily you disarmed him with nothing but sheer confidence.

And yet, there was something oddly considerate in the way you carried yourself, like you already understood that this wasn’t the appropriate time or place for such a question but didn’t mind either way.

"...Well... huh, how do I explain this..." You mused aloud, tossing your volleyball into the air before catching it again. "Hypothetically speaking, would me saying that I find you attractive not be a good enough response?"

Megumi tensed.

"...Well... it’s certainly a response." He grumbled, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, gaze darting away as heat crept up his neck.

What kind of courage did you have to say something like that with a straight face? Were you even real?

"...Not a good one, I assume?"

"Not really."

A brief silence stretched between you, punctuated only by the distant screech of an incoming train.

"...So would you take me out on a date?"

Was this girl serious?

"I mean... I just met you... so no."

"...Alright."

Megumi studied your expression. You looked... slightly embarrassed now, like the reality of your own words had finally sunk in. With a quiet sigh, he ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply before muttering:

"Maybe... if we meet again."

What was he even saying?

You blinked, then grinned. "Well... that sounds like a plan."

Finally, a bit of color dusted your cheeks as you took a sip of your drink. Megumi almost regretted wanting to see you flustered. He had only been curious—to confirm you were, in fact, human—but now that he had, it was making him blush too.

How annoying... Did he just become a sucker for a total stranger?

"You don’t really seem disappointed." Megumi noted, voice measured as he sheepishly scratched the back of his head.

"Well, I know it’s a weird question to ask someone you just met, and I can’t force you to take me out on a date." You laughed, barely acknowledging the train doors sliding open behind him.

"Why did you want to talk to me anyway?"

"I just thought you were a really romantic-looking kind of person and that I should talk to you. I figured you’d say no anyway."

Megumi huffed at that, the warmth in his face only deepening. Romantic-looking? What did that even mean?

"Sure."

He wasn’t convinced you weren’t messing with him.

The station was busier now—commuters moving around him, boarding the train, their chatter filling the space. He should’ve left already. Instead, he lingered, looking at you for just a moment longer than necessary.

"Well, is it okay if you tell me your name?" You asked, tilting your head.

He hesitated. Why was he hesitating?

"It’s Fushiguro." The words left him reluctantly as he finally took a step forward.

"No full name?" You teased, even though you weren’t sure you’d ever see him again. All you knew was that you liked this guy—a lot—and you wanted to keep talking to him.

Megumi exhaled, almost groaning. You were persistent. It was something he could respect, at least.

"...Megumi. Megumi Fushiguro."

Your expression softened. "That’s a pretty name. Alright, I won’t hold you up any longer. Bye, handsome."

Megumi turned away entirely, stepping into the train without so much as a backward glance. You had thoroughly embarrassed him.

You sighed, watching as the train doors slid shut. Then, with a small, amused shake of your head, you made your way up the station stairs, heading toward where your friend was waiting.

Megumi Fushiguro probably thought you were insane.

But if you ever saw him again, you’d definitely take another shot.

Something about him was just too cool to let go.

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────

Fushiguro, right?"

"Yeah, that's my name." He sighed, weariness laced in his tone.

"Can I call you Megumi?"

Megumi looked at you, another invisible tick mark forming on his forehead. Normally, he’d say no without hesitation, but something about the way you asked—your voice soft, your smile unguarded—made him hesitate. This was humiliating.

"Uh... sure, I guess."

"Well... this is kind of like a date, no?" You almost laughed, trying not to agitate the increasingly exasperated boy beside you.

It had been about two weeks—give or take—since your first encounter at the subway station. Now, fate (or misfortune, in Megumi’s case) had led to another meeting, this time involving an almost-spilled coffee. He had turned to apologize, only to recognize you, and in his moment of shock, actually dropped the drink.

You had offered to replace it, and despite every fiber of his being telling him not to indulge you, he had agreed... only because he still wanted coffee. And so, here you were, strolling alongside him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He held his coffee, you clutched a small box of cake for later, and the city hummed around you in the late afternoon light.

"Uh... this isn’t a date." Megumi corrected, desperate to shut down whatever delusions you might have.

"Are you sure? This seems like it would make for a pretty romantic walk."

Megumi’s grip on his cup tightened. Why would you use the word romantic? Now he was actively avoiding looking at you.

"Yeah, I’m sure." He sighed, eyes locked on the pavement.

"Well, how about we call it just hanging out then?" You grinned, stepping a little closer.

He took another slow sip of his coffee, waging an internal war. He didn’t like you—definitely not. He didn’t even want to be here. He was antisocial, and he sure as hell shouldn’t be entertaining you.

Love at first sight wasn’t real. He knew that. And yet... there was something about you that made him doubt his own reasoning. Maybe it was the way you so fearlessly inserted yourself into his life, as if fate had long decided you belonged there.

He could indulge you just a little longer... right?

"Sure. This can just be a hangout."

The moment he said it, he was rewarded with one of the most radiant smiles he’d ever seen.

"That’s good. Then maybe I can get you to date me after."

"That’s not going to happen."

"Why not? We know each other a little better now, don’t you think?"

"Yeah? I still barely know you." He tried not to let his smirk show, keeping his guard up even as he found you... oddly fun to be around.

"Well, you drink black coffee, and I like cake—"

"Most people like cake."

"And barely anyone likes black coffee. That makes you unique."

"But liking cake isn’t."

"Jeez, you’re missing the point." You huffed, crossing your arms, only for him to let out a small, unexpected chuckle.

"That’s fine. I’m making my own point," Megumi replied, entirely unfazed by your frustration. "We’re still technically strangers. At best, we’re acquaintances."

"Then tell me something about yourself. If that’s the problem, we can fix it."

"Absolutely not." He took another deliberate sip of his coffee.

"Can I talk about myself then?"

"Knock yourself out."

"Cool! So, I just switched schools, and I play volleyball there. At my old school, I used to be one of those people in the mascot suits—you know, the big fluffy animals? Yep, that was me. And recently, I got a job at a skating rink—"

You rambled on, jumping between topics as if your thoughts were spilling out faster than you could catch them. At first, Megumi thought it would be exhausting. But somehow, despite himself, he found that he was listening.

Maybe it was the way you spoke—so animated, so full of life—or the way your words painted pictures of your experiences in broad, reckless strokes. Even if it drained his social battery, he couldn’t help but keep up.

Then came the voice that made his head throb instantly.

"Megumi!"

He tensed. You turned, tilting your head at the tall man with white hair and a black blindfold. Why was he wearing a blindfold?

"Oh? Who’s that?"

"...That’s my teacher." Megumi groaned, already regretting this entire day.

"Hey! Who’s your friend?" Gojo grinned at you, his energy almost overwhelming.

"This is L/N—"

"Don’t call me that. Just Y/N, since I’m calling you Megumi." You interrupted, flashing a playful smile. Gojo raised an eyebrow, while Megumi flushed and glanced away, suddenly interested in the cracks in the pavement.

"Okay." Gojo smirked before turning back to you. "Nice to meet you, little lady. Name’s Gojo."

"Nice to meet you too, sir."

"Right... what were we talking about again?" You turned to Megumi, who simply sipped his coffee as if he hadn’t just been embarrassed.

"Someone named Yoko."

"Oh, right! Then there’s Yoko—he kind of hates me, so I don’t mess with him much even though I have to see him for advanced math almost every day. And then there’s my teacher, Mr. Touya—"

Gojo observed quietly, his grin deepening. You just kept talking, completely at ease, filling the space with an effortless energy most people lacked. But what amused him most was the way Megumi listened—really listened.

With a knowing smirk, he elbowed his student, earning an immediate, half-hearted swat in return.

Then, out of nowhere, you gasped dramatically. "Oh my gosh, do you want to know something?!"

Megumi nearly jumped, almost spilling his coffee again. "What!? What happened to your mother!?"

"Huh?"

"...Huh!?" Megumi stared, utterly baffled. You had been talking about your mom just a second ago—so why did you suddenly jump topics?

"What happened to your mother?" He repeated, exasperated but lowering his voice so it didn’t seem like he was yelling at you. Meanwhile, Gojo was practically shaking with silent laughter.

"Oh! Nothing happened to my mother," you said cheerfully, "but I just remembered my dad’s taking me to Paris in three weeks since he’s working overseas!"

Megumi’s brain short-circuited. How did you function like this? The sheer unpredictability of your conversations should have been annoying. Instead, it made him want to know more.

"Yep... so that’s my life. What’s yours?"

"You think just because you dumped your life story on me, you’ll get to know mine?"

"Why not?"

"It’s because he’s antisocial. But don’t worry, I’m sure he liked it—"

"Shut up." Megumi shot a glare at Gojo, only to hear you laugh.

"Well, I’ll see you later then, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess—"

"Oh, wait! Can I ask you again?"

Megumi hesitated. "Ask me what?"

"If you’ll take me out."

"Oh! That’d be sweet, but now that I think about it, he’s getting some of his teeth removed in a few days, so maybe not!" Gojo interrupted, earning an attempted slap on the back.

"No, I’m not taking you out... at least not yet." Megumi muttered, avoiding eye contact.

You grinned. "Alright then. See you soon, Megumi."

And with that, you walked away, waving as you left.

Silence stretched for about twenty seconds before Gojo grinned. "So... who was that lovely girl?"

"She's L/N. I met her like two weeks ago… and don’t start making stuff up about me, especially in front of her."

"Oh my gosh! Are you two dating? Is she your girlfriend? Wait—don’t tell me—have you two already—!? Megumi, you're too young for that!"

"What the hell!? No! We're just acquaintances, dammit! Now drop it!"

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────

Megumi didn’t ask for this. He didn’t want to be here. If given the choice, he’d much rather be cooking with Maki than wandering aimlessly through a crowded mall.

Nobara and Yuji had insisted on a shopping trip, dragging Megumi along for the ride—not that he had a say in the matter. Gojo made sure of that. But somehow, against all odds, he found himself bumping into you again. And again. At this point, it felt less like coincidence and more like the universe playing some kind of twisted joke on him.

Unfortunately, this time, he wasn’t alone. His ever-annoying teacher and equally troublesome classmates were with him, making the situation infinitely worse. He already knew what was coming.

Gojo, in all his meddling glory, had ratted him out to Nobara and Yuji, claiming—loudly—that you were his girlfriend. No amount of frantic yelling on Megumi’s part could convince them otherwise. If they saw you now, he’d never hear the end of it.

"Hey, Megumi! How are—"

"Don’t be so loud," he muttered, grabbing your forearm and steering you toward another section of the store as fast as humanly possible.

"I wasn’t being loud. What’s wrong?"

"Nothing. I just don’t want to be here."

Truthfully, he just didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire. You were bold, he was reserved, and the contrast was enough to set his classmates off. He could already hear the teasing.

"You’re being kind of pushy, you know that? Are you taking me on that date now?" You grinned, following him without hesitation.

"Don’t ask me that anymore. You’re the most persistent person I’ve ever met."

"Aw, c’mon. It’s not like I’d be a bad date. I’d be fun—"

"You know what? Fine," Megumi hissed. "I’ll take you out. Just shush!"

Finally, he let you go, exhaling sharply—only to freeze as soon as he turned around.

Yuji.

Not him.

Megumi knew exactly what was coming next. Yuji had a habit of reporting every little interaction Megumi had with a girl.

So, without hesitation, Megumi dropped to all fours and crawled under a clothing rack, opting for the most ridiculous but effective method of escape. He didn’t even bother pulling you along—he just peeked out from under the rack, looking up at you like some desperate fugitive.

"Where are you going?" you whispered, baffled.

"Don’t mention me. At all. They don’t need to know—"

"Who?"

"Nobody. Just… annoying people who dragged me here."

"Well, I guess I should thank them, since I get to see your handsome face again. And now you’re taking me on a date." You smiled, unbothered, while Megumi’s face heated up yet again.

He groaned when he spotted Yuji approaching from behind you.

Yuji, for his part, had not expected to find Megumi crouched under a clothing rack, talking to a cute girl about dating.

"Uh… hey. What’s your name?"

You turned to face the boy with pink hair, dressed in the same uniform as Megumi.

"Y/N L/N. What’s yours?"

"Oh! I’m Yuji Itadori. I’ve heard a lot about you!"

"Really? That’s nice."

"Hey, Kugisaki! Gojo-sensei! Guess who Fushiguro found?!" Yuji shouted, drawing the attention of everyone in the store.

Megumi sighed in defeat. There was no running from this.

"Who?" Nobara strolled over, yawning, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

"The girl Megumi’s into!"

Megumi cringed as Yuji’s words rang out, immediately smacking him upside the head while you were distracted.

"Oh really?!" Nobara perked up, smirking as she placed a hand on her hip. "I’m Nobara Kugisaki. Best girl here—besides you, of course."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Y/N!" You smiled, taking note of what Yuji had said. If you really were the girl Megumi was interested in, than that would mean he'd want to date you.

"Well, little lady, we were about to grab some food. Want to join us?" Gojo offered with a grin.

"I'd like that, if it's okay with you, Megumi." You nodded, and Megumi sighed before muttering a small, reluctant "Sure." Yuji and Nobara almost squealed at the way you so casually used his first name.

With that settled, everyone finished their purchases. Nobara immediately decided you needed some cute dresses and dragged you along, while Yuji chatted with you nonstop.

You seemed interesting enough, and you must have been pretty impressive to catch Megumi’s attention.

"Yeah, that's how we found out that not only is Megumi dyslexic, but he also has like twenty different types of gel for his hair. Oh, and don’t even get me started on the romance novels he has—"

"I do not have romance novels in my dorm room," Megumi growled, shooting a sharp glare at Nobara, who just laughed and kept talking. He had to correct her every ten seconds as she spun wild tales, much to your amusement.

He shouldn’t have cared. It shouldn’t have mattered whether they teased him or tried to pair him up with you. After all, it’s not like he actually liked you… He couldn’t like you… Right? He had only met you three weeks ago.

"Yeah, Kugisaki, don’t make stuff up when they’d be so cute together. Just like Gojo would say, ‘Get off of him, you damn homewreckers!’" Yuji teased, grinning. "Though the gel thing is totally true."

"I’m going to kill all of you," Megumi grumbled under his breath. You just laughed, nearly doubling over at how flustered he was.

"You shouldn’t kill us," Gojo chimed in, smirking. "Especially when we’re going to be the ones at your wedding—"

"Stop it!" Megumi snapped, his face burning as laughter erupted around him.

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────

"So, where would you take me?"

"I don't know... Probably a cafe or something." Megumi replied, almost forgetting that, by some miracle, he had actually agreed to this.

Though, he was starting to realize he had been lying to himself. It wasn’t that he outwardly liked you the way you did him…

But he was lying about not falling for you. Because at the very least, he wanted to be around you. And for someone like him—someone who rarely wanted to be around anyone—that meant something.

"Well, it's a good thing you gave me your number, so now I can text you about it later." You smiled, looking up at the sky, streaked in soft hues of sunset.

"I guess."

Meanwhile, Yuji, Nobara, and Gojo were doing an absolutely horrible job at being inconspicuous as they spied from the food court. The two of you had stepped outside to talk, and, like a group of nosy children, they couldn’t help themselves.

"What that boy Itadori said—was it true?" you asked suddenly.

"What did he say?"

"That you're into me?"

Megumi had to physically restrain himself from scowling. He was definitely going to smack the hell out of Yuji when they got back to campus.

Then again… he might as well tell the truth. Was he into you? Hypothetically, he shouldn’t be—not when the two of you barely knew each other. But in reality… yes. Yes, he was into you.

And he blamed you for it. It was your fault he felt this way.

"Yeah." He finally admitted.

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. You had only brought it up to tease him—you hadn't actually expected him to admit it.

"... Really? I'm into you too."

"I know that. You made that pretty clear when we first met." Megumi chuckled, looking at you with an ease that was rare for him.

For once, he wasn’t annoyed or stressed. He didn’t look like he wanted to strangle someone. He just looked… calm. And that made you even more excited.

"Right."

"..."

"..."

"I can't actually believe you're going to take me on a date!" you beamed, barely able to contain your excitement.

"Yeah, well, I can't believe it either. I can’t even really believe I like you, so imagine how I feel."

Nobara sighed dramatically from her hiding spot. "This is getting boring. How long do we have to wait for something interesting to happen?"

"Shh!" Yuji whisper-yelled, elbowing her—only to get elbowed back.

"Ow! Quit it!"

"Shut up! I don't—"

"They're gonna notice us," Gojo warned, lifting his blindfold slightly. It was enough to immediately silence them.

Back outside, you checked the time and sighed. "Welp, I gotta go. But it was nice seeing you again—and meeting your friends." You smiled, completely unaware of the spying trio.

"I'll see you later."

"Alright. Bye—oh, wait!"

You quickly turned back and, before Megumi could react, leaned in and pressed a light kiss to his cheek. Then, just as easily, you waved him goodbye and strolled off like you hadn’t just sent his entire system into shock.

Megumi felt it—his face heating up, his chest doing that stupid thing where it beats too fast. At this rate, you were going to give him heart failure.

"Woah!" a voice exclaimed.

Megumi turned sharply, only to find the three idiots huddled behind a bush. They weren’t even trying to be subtle anymore.

"Did you see that?! That was so cute!" Gojo gushed, peeking at the picture Yuji had taken.

"Hell yeah, it was! The picture turned out great!"

"It did?! Let me see! Oh my gosh, that’s so sweet! And now they’re going on their first date?" Nobara smirked.

"This is amazing! They have so much chemistry! I’ll bet you ten thousand yen they’ll end up in the same bed in two months—"

"I’m giving you all five seconds." Megumi’s voice was eerily calm as he loomed over the bush.

That was all the warning they needed before they bolted back into the mall, leaving Megumi standing there, still red-faced, cursing the fact that he had ever left his dorm today.

'He's just like me fr'