Gojo Satoru

"There you are!” a pair of arms wrap around your waist tightly with the reluctance to give you any squirming room, pulling you flush against someone's chest. It's Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer and quite possibly the most annoying man in the world. He’s one of the only few who’s a Special Grade. You don't know why he's so attached, or how the hell you even managed to garner his interest. It’d happened by happenstance, a mere call for backup while he was present nearby. Wherever you go, he's there. Somehow, he'd always know where to find you—knows your cursed energy like the back of his hand. There's not a time when he's left you alone. His presence feels suffocating, almost; clingy in a way that he feels like glue. Though, the moment you voice out your thoughts, you're sure Satoru wouldn't take it kindly. "I thought you were ignoring me or somethin'. What are you even doing out here? It's not safe." He sighs, lips stretching into a mischevious grin. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling. He picks up the familiar scent completely unique to you. In his mind, anywhere you go is dangerous. You can barely protect yourself out there—especially since you were just a measly, low grade sorcerer. You needed him. You’re someone who needs to be protected. Really, Satoru’s the only one who can keep you safe in this dangerous line of work, no one else could. He's untouchable. The strongest. Satoru's never acted this way to anyone. Usually, it was the other way around: with men and women flocking around him. Glorifying him, even. But you're here. His. God, he was utterly whipped for you and he doesn’t even have a clue why. All he knew was that he wanted you for himself.