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𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐅𝐔𝐋 | 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔.

in his six years of parenting—that he’s done all by himself, he might add—gojo satoru has never thought he’d see the day. but here’s megumi, standing before him and shyly pointing to a small arrangement of roses. long gone is his snarky, sarcastic, ruthless son—instead, now he’s blushing, staring up at gojo hopefully.

“what’d you say you needed these for?” he raises a brow at the boy, and megumi huffs, cheeks turning a deeper shade of crimson as he looks away bashfully.

“to give them to someone,” he mumbles, “it’s valentine’s day.”

gojo blinks, and then his lips twitch, and then he’s full on smiling. it’s the big, eye crinkling, nose twitching, and cheek stretching kind—except there’s a hint of smugness to it.

“so,” he wriggles his brows, crouching to his son’s height. he has to crouch rather low, given his towering height in comparison. “you got a crush, huh? what’s she like? she must be one hell of an angel to put up with a stinker like you,” he pinches the spikey haired boy’s nose.

megumi crinkles it in distaste, scowling at his father’s tendencies to insist on being the most insufferable man he’s known—and he’s not personally gotten to know a lot of grown men in his six years of life.

“she’s nice,” he crosses his arms, “and she’s not annoying like you.”

“hey,” gojo pouts, eyeing a worker in the flower shop that chuckles at the jab thrown at his expense, “i’m a catch. you wouldn’t get it, no one likes dicks—i mean, jerks like you,” he corrects himself, praying the six year old devil before him doesn’t pick up on the colorful words he tends to let slip.

gojo satoru loves his son.

well, megumi might not really be his son, but that doesn’t matter. he’s raised the boy since he was an infant, and he’s his son if gojo’s got something to say about it.

and gojo never pictured himself a single father in his early twenties, yet here he is—and he doesn’t think he’d ever look back. and sure, they have a bit of a push and pull relationship, but still, gojo pretends like he doesn’t know megumi crawls into his bed some nights and snuggles into his side, and he’s sure megumi looks the other way when he sniffles a little every time the boy’s height is a bit taller on the kitchen wall he marks it on.

“whatever,” the child grumbles, eyeing his little batman watch on his wrist, “can we get going soon? i don’t want to be late.”

gojo stifles a chuckle, ruffling megumi’s hair before grabbing the bouquet he’d picked out.

“alright, you little booger,” he walks up the the register, “lets get you a valentine so you don’t die alone.”

and because he’s a doting father, he simply bites his tongue and fights back the eye twitch when he sees the bill—who knew a small bouquet for a six year old could be so expensive?

“so,” gojo whispers, nudging the six year old’s shoulder gently, “which one is the unlucky kid you’re into? point ‘em out—but don’t be obvious okay? don’t let—”

megumi raises a brow, unimpressed before shyly pointing a small finger in your direction.

gojo blinks, looking to the right of you, then the left, and then he’s craning his neck to see if there’s anyone behind you.

nobody.

“you’re kidding right?” he asks flatly, turning back to his son.

“no,” he megumi grumbles, glaring up at his father.

“a teacher? you have a thing for a teacher? megumi, you can’t—hey! where are you going?”

megumi’s made a beeline for you, flowers clutched in his small hands as he walks away, and gojo follows swiftly, shocked to his core. none of the parenting tips on google ever had a suggestion for this, and he’s starting to think he didn’t do his research thoroughly enough.

“megumi, give me your flowers,” he whispers, looping his finger into the small handle of megumi’s backpack and pulling him back.

“why?”

“because i need them,” gojo insists, eyeing your figure up and down—it makes it a lot easier to not seem like a creep when you’re constantly wearing dark sunglasses. gojo thinks at least megumi’s got good taste, he can certainly see the appeal.

you’re perfect—your smile is radiant, sweet, it makes learning fractions seem like a fun activity. you turn and see them approaching, throwing a beam at the small child in front of him, and gojo pouts just the slightest bit that he doesn’t elicit such a response from you.

“hi, megumi! is this your father?” you wave cheerily at the small boy, and for the second time ever, megumi gets shy again. he nods, and gojo stares with his mouth slightly agape.

“yeah,” he mumbles quietly. “this is my dad. he’s a little weird sometimes,” he warns, and gojo sputters, staring at his traitor son with wide eyes.

“hi,” you smile warmly, holding a hand out for gojo to shake, “i’m megumi’s new teacher—his old one left,” you explain, and gojo nods, though he’s not sure he’s processed any of what you’d just said.

you’re pretty, and your voice is even prettier.

“i’m gojo satoru, megumi’s father,” he introduces himself, “and i’m not weird,” he explains through an awkward chuckle, shooting a glare at the mop of dark locks beside him.

megumi shoots back daggers his way, and before anything else can be done or said, gojo snatches the flowers from megumi’s hands and holds them out for you.

“hey—”

“here ya go,” gojo grins, flashing you his most charming smile. your knees buckle just a little bit, but you will yourself to take the small bouquet from the extremely attractive man in front of you. “here’s a little welcoming present for ya, for dealing with this handful here,” gojo grins widely at you as he points to the child next to him.

“thank you,” you beam, “but megumi is a very sweet child, he’s always on his best behavior.” said child beams at the praise, and even though a small part of gojo is proud to hear it, another part of him wants to roll his eyes.

“he’s nothing like that at home, don’t be fooled,” he flicks megumi’s forehead, and if not for you watching, he’s sure it would’ve landed him a bite to his finger from megumi.

he thinks he wants you around all the time if that’s the case.

and megumi’s face is puffed up in pure rage as he latches onto gojo’s leg—gojo tries his best not to wince from nails digging into his thigh.

“but it was my idea—”

“megumi insisted that i welcome you,” gojo interrupts with a chuckle, “he’s a thoughtful kid. i raised him to always put others first, you know?”

you blink before nodding slowly, eyeing the two as they seem to have a battle with each other through harsh stares.

“oh, uh…of course,” you say finally, “that was very thoughtful of the both of you.”

and you don’t know much about gojo, but you can instantly tell he’s just as much of a handful as his son. even so, something about it is as endearing as his smile. and maybe it’s a tad bit unprofessional to form a small crush on a student’s father—one you just met no less, but gojo satoru has a charm to him that’s hard to resist.

“well, you let me know if megumi gives you any trouble, he can be feisty when he wants—” he’s cut off by a sneeze, and gojo looks at you as you sniffle lightly. he’s only known you for five minutes, but even the sound of your sneeze makes his heart rate speed up, and he wonders if raising a (mean) kid for six years has really made him this lonely.

“sorry,” you chuckle quietly, sniffling once more. “i’m allergic to flowers.”

suddenly, megumi beams, grabbing your hand and pulling you in the direction of your classroom. “i told him not to do flowers, but he’s stubborn,” megumi explains, and gojo stares as his own son turns and sticks his tongue out at him with a smirk. “bye dad! see you after school,” he waves.

standing there and watching your face tug with a grin as you giggle, gojo waves slowly at the both of you as you walk off.

“okay noted,” he mumbles, ghost of a pout curling on his lips while his shoulders slump in defeat, “no flowers next time.”

BONUS:

“megumi, your teacher is way too old for you kiddo, you should let me have a shot—”

“my teacher is too pretty for you,” megumi grumbles, glaring at his father, “you’re ugly.”

gasping, gojo places a hand on his chest with hurt, pouting deeply. sometimes, megumi is left to wonder if his father is fit to raise a child when he’s too busy acting like one himself.

“now that’s just mean, i’ll have you know i was quite a favorite amongst the—”

“and you talk a lot. and you look old cause your hair is white,” megumi mumbles as he walks off to the pantry to grab a snack, and gojo stands at the doorway with a wounded pride and a backpack to carry up to megumi’s room himself.

ty ris for beta reading and for your big brain ideas sobsobsob

also this is not canon accurate before anyone starts

ごろごろ父娘

gojo is so careless with his words. he drops the honourifics so quickly, switching to casual speech within minutes of meeting. he calls your first name so easily, and just as smoothly slips into calling you sweetheart, babe, darling, as if you'd been his for years. it's why he has such a reputation, after all. he's always so friendly, so chummy with everyone. you've seen the girls that loiter around and the way he talks to them, so casual, flirty, so close. so the first time gojo says i love you, babe, you're the best, you don't take it seriously at all, even tho your heart flutters stupidly as if he meant it. love is a curse, it's true. you slowly get used to it, sometimes ignoring it, sometimes even playing along, saying yes yes okay i know you love me you big idiot, struggling to hold the butterflies back as he hugs you exaggeratedly, cheering for whatever you've agreed to at his earnest pleading. he's always so flippant about the names, the words, it's almost meaningless. you think he does it to everyone he meets.

so it comes as a surprise when geto tells you it's not true. you're the only one he calls his baby, geto says offhandedly one day. he doesn't call anyone else that way. your brows furrow. a baby? that's not very flattering, you comment. the conversation is quickly swept aside as ieiri walks in, followed by the man in question, his voice brightly announcing the entrance of DONUTS THAT SHOKO AND I BOUGHT FOR EVERYONE! now now calm down everyone, no need to cheer or clamour, there's plenty for everybody and i accept thanks in the form of cash, credit or kisses- OW! he stops abruptly as ieiri smacks his head hard, and geto sniggers. glancing at the clock, you're running late, so you ask ieiri to keep one donut for you and dash off, leaving them in the common area.

(gojo stares after you. do you think they're avoiding me? he squints at the door, watching the traces of your energy leaving the building. nah, ieiri drawls, if anyone is going to avoid you it'll be us, don't u think? geto snorts. yeah, we'll be the first to leave, don't worry your pretty little head about it. gojo decides that maybe suguru and shoko are right. he huffs, but i chose the flavours they like! geto picks up a chocolate oreo donut. then you should keep some aside for them before we finish it, or before nanami and haibara get here, he says, taking a bite and savouring it. geto grins. you know how nanami gets about bread. the three share a chuckle at their shy kouhai, but before gojo can say anything, shoko hands him a small box. do your job, mr wannabe-boyfriend. she smirks, and gojo snatches the box out of her hands. we aren't dating! yet)

later that evening you answer the door to see gojo standing tall, proudly holding out the donuts he saved for you in the little box. i told shoko that i only needed one, you say, counting three in the box. couldn't i spoil my baby a little? he teases, and you roll your eyes. you decide to share the donuts, since both of you have had dinner already. sitting in the little stairwell, you reach for one of the donuts, only to have gojo pick it up first. you look up in confusion and annoyance and see him holding it out to you, beaming. you blush, but you take a bite of the donut in his hands anyway, and snatch it out of his hands. gojo watches the blush dance across your cheeks as you quietly finish the donut. he smiles, you're so cute when you're shy like that. that's why it's fun to tease you. you choke. you've never heard such a gentle and genuine tone come from gojo satoru. are you treating me like a child?! you squeak indignantly at him. he laughs. i told you i wanted to spoil my baby, didn't i? gojo wipes the crumbs off the edge of your lips with his thumb affectionately as you struggle to keep your feelings under control. you avert your eyes. stop it. i'll hate you if you're just acting like this for fun. gojo's hand stops momentarily, then cups your cheek. you close your eyes to stop yourself from looking at him, but his voice reaches your ears: i'm not doing this for fun. i want you to be mine. just this once, won't you say yes to me? your eyes fly open in surprise as you turn to look at him. gojo's tone is serious, but gentle, unlike anything you've heard from him. no teasing lilt, no cheeky smiles, patiently waiting for an answer. say yes to what? you question. and gojo strokes your face, humming. say yes to being mine, of course. you stare at him in stunned silence, replaying his words, his tone, his actions over and over in your head for what seems like ages. finally, you manage to stammer out an okay, and gojo breaks into the widest smile of the evening. a genuinely happy smile, and it makes you smile, too. then you hear it.

i love you.

you've barely begun to process the words when gojo leans down and kisses you, soft, warm, and wanting. you close your eyes, letting yourself indulge in the moment when gojo is being so sweet, just for you. he shifts closer, pulling you into a hug, lips still glued to yours. but you break free.

satoru, you idiot, you've dropped the donuts!

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getting together with gojo,,,,,,,, i can hear his laughter ringing in my head after u scold him

if you enjoyed this please reblog

omg have i stopped writing smut???? no, i'm taking a small break bc all i have is fluff my brain only fluff no smut just fluff,,, have many many comfort everyone.

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nap time with dad nanamin!!

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Art by stx_ov

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