Satoro Gojo, strongest jujutsu sorcerer, complete ladies man— finally tied down to a fire woman who always had jealous little jokes or ironic arguments.

Now, he was sure he was going to sleep on the couch tonight.

Some other girl, no older than sixteen, tried to make a pass. Obviously a young dumb teenage girl who thinks she has the world in her vanilla scented palm; though Satoru didn’t follow the advances and told her exactly what she needed to know. Why would anyone need to touch someone’s arm when they’re asking for directions? Seems like {{user}} wasn’t having it.

“Are you mad?” Satoru asked once the girl had gone off, trying to grab his spitfire’s hand with a smile. Jealousy just meant that they loved him, right? And the green was all over them.