Jujutsu Kaisen Gojo Satoru - Tumblr Posts

taking care of gojo when his six eyes becomes too much <3 when cute gojo scenarios are scarce i come through. hints of manga spoilers! i love him so much :(

your knocks against gojo’s door wear out the other out, where the combination of your voice and your knuckles sound like nails on a chalkboard. uncomfortable, jarring, discordant. it was everything gojo hated, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask you to leave.

“gojo? you there?” a series of groans are your reply, and you have to refrain from wincing at how ghastly they sound. you can hear padded feet from the other side, unlocking the door just a bit before the bundle of blankets waddle back to their place on the bed.

“holy shit... gojo,” even now, you can’t help but gape in disbelief. not the time, but your mouth itched to insult the man, no matter the circumstance. you barely held back, though, “you look like shit.”

gojo doesn’t even bother to roll his eyes at an insult that he would usually deliver, because he knew they would hurt. his head already spins from another person’s voice cutting in through the never-ending bout of information that swam in his brain. the room falls into feigned darkness, brought about by the curtains drawing close.

“there,” you hum, “better?”

no answer.

you’d never wish the six eyes on anyone. having access to endless information would be ideal, right? it was far from that for gojo satoru, who had destiny pinned on him the moment he was born. for all his life, he had to endure ear-splitting headaches. for all his life, he had to act like nothing was happening, like all of the gojo clan who’d done it all before.

well, it didn’t work out so well for him, because no one who had the same set of striking blue eyes and stark white hair told him anything about the repercussions of being the strongest, and satoru hated it.

every minute where he wasn’t exorcising curses with geto, annoying shoko, or simply hanging out with you was every last bit or torture. and now that you were here, he couldn’t possibly drive you away with little to no knowledge on romance despite the all-knowing brain he has.

“i brought you some sweets, following yaga-sensei’s instructions. he told me you-”

“stop talking.”

you frown at the order, but stubborn as you are, you bring the bag of confectionery to rest right where the bunch of blankets end. gojo didn’t have it in him to tell you to leave, but he had no strength to tell you to stay either, and with that, you quietly stalk out the door.

you come back the very next day, clutching onto a bag with the same brand of sweets as you stand outside gojo’s door. he senses your cursed energy before you even ask whether you can come in.

“come in,” you don’t give it much thought, knowing how detailed his vision was even when his eyes were closed. like before, you place the plastic bag right beside him, but before you take your leave, gojo manages to croak out.

“stay.”

those quiet afternoons spent in each other’s company turned to pats on the blanket. it turned to stroking his back to running your fingers through his hair. it went on to become hand-holding to head massages, where your heart pounded and rang in your ears and you never realised that he’s switched off infinity. it turned to...

gojo buries his face deeper into your torso, naming anything close to light his enemy. it would be soon that you’d need to find some covering for his eyes, because the strongest can’t be handicapped for this long. they couldn’t just keep sending geto and nanami and haibara for missions, either.

peeling himself off your torso, he contently looks at you from below, smiling when your hands make contact with his temples. you’d always been a bunch of red and orange and yellow in his vision, only ever opening his eyes when he wanted to look at your beauty.

gojo’s been doing it more often and often.

“keep your eyes closed!” you giggle, rubbing at his temples to soothe the migraines that came with having the six eyes. that’s the last memory he has of you — and the next only drives him to suck up and endure this stupid technique of his because the next time you enter is when you’re terribly wounded and bloody.

it’s nothing shoko can’t fix, but you’re adamant on dropping off gojo’s bag of sweets before you go to the doctor.

“how was the—” gojo stops at the sight of you, lighter on his feet and more independent ever since you visited.

“what— what happened? y-your mission? how did it go? why are you so...” you flash him a sad smile, mildly surprised at the uncharacteristic anxiety on the male’s face.

“it went fine, satoru, just... it was a pretty stubborn curse. it had the power to reproduce fast, and we figured it out pretty late that we had to get to the source. that involved being drenched in disgusting curse blood.” gojo makes out the purple blood that wasn’t just your clothes.

“but here!” fishing out the fabric, you presented some black cloth. “c’mere.”

he lets himself enjoy the tenderness of your fingers, which slips on the blindfold onto his head. securing each side onto his head of hair, you laugh at the messy hair that’s got tangled up.

“y-you look so dumb! even worse than when you had your s-sunglasses!” your tone is soft, cautious even when you joked because you worried that his head would hurt. “how do you feel though?”

closed up, choked up, nervous, he names all the things off his mind, but it’s not what you want to hear. he swallows, “it’s... comfortable. did you get this for an expensive price or something? the quality’s really good.”

“i made it,” you scratch the back of your head in embarrassment, “been working on it for days, now.” and the breath is knocked out of him, faintly making out your shy hands that wanders around your body, to tuck your hair, to fiddle with your shirt.

that same sight never goes away years later, in his own apartment, in the comfort of his home, in your arms like before. nostalgia hits hard.

“don’t you know how to do this, satoru?” you tease, barely paying attention to the drama on TV, instead focusing your attention on the male below you. “why’d you need me to do it?”

gojo whines, thankfully not contributing to the headache he has. over the years, he’s become much better at handling the technique, even making your blindfold a daily part of his fashion. you just wished he wouldn’t parade around with your badly sewed blindfold that you learned from WikiHow. satoru says it’s for “sentimental value” that he uses the only blindfold you’ve made him.

“but you do it better! can’t my partner just indulge me just this once?”

your tone is still soft, gentle, full of love and gojo falls even more, “once? you got me doing this for years now, dude!”

gojo pouts, “ouch. dude? what am i, your homie?” you roll your eyes with a smile, smacking his chest lightly as you turned down the volume. in the midst, you switched to Spotify on your smart TV.

“shush now.” gojo happily shuts up, long body tucked into the sofa of his apartment while he melts at your fingers doing their magic. they always have such a calming and lulling energy to them, just like your voice, your personality.

gojo didn’t believe you possessed any cursed energy, because if humans gave out cursed energy, you only did the opposite. he fully believed you were an angel sent down. his eyes flutter open to see you looking down at him.

“hi.”

“hey. you should close your eyes, you know,” you whisper another warning. you can feel as his cheeks spill into your palms when he smiles — it’s not the large ones he gives his students, but it’s... there, and small because the softest of smiles are reserved only for you.

“how can i, when there’s the epitome of beauty right above me?” your cheeks heat up, and even after all these years, satoru’s compliments always makes you bashful.

“please shut up.” gojo laughs at your comeback. “you mind if we lie down?”

your lover’s lack of answer tells you that he’s not opposed to it, and soon you manoeuvre him until he’s in between your legs, fingers never stopping the massage.

“anything from your mission today?”

“standard, but a stubborn curse,” gojo smiles from where he was on your chest, “if someone didn’t say that we needed to defeat the source years ago, i, too, would come home bloody and bruised.”

“yeah, yeah, but you won’t, because you have your stupid infinity.”

“because i have my stupid infinity, yup.” gojo echoes you.

from here, gojo looks anything but a teacher, a sorcerer, a menace (you say so but he disagrees, says his presence is a blessing). he looks like a little boy, forced to grow up at such a young age, forced to shoulder responsibility and a zen’in kid at such an age where he couldn’t enjoy what other teenagers did. everything came late for gojo in life.

a calling to teaching, realisation of how fast friends would betray you, love.

but gojo wants anything but pity, and rather, more of your unconditional love that he never really knew what to call it back then. when your fingers work out the knots in his locks, he realised it was love. when your fingers suffered the pricks of needles, he realised it was love. when your hands closed the curtains in his room in jujutsu high, he realised it was love.

the four-lettered word scared him, but when he looked at you, it was all he wanted to say. i love you, i love you, i love you, like a mantra until you were giggling at him to stop or muttering the same thing back.

gojo raises his head off your chest, looking at you through his bangs and azure eyes that always captivated you. they just shone more, tonight. gently he leans forward to capture your lips with his. they move against yours languidly, taking his time to savour all of you, and tables quickly switch: from your hands on his temples to his on your cheeks, from his body laying on yours to you atop of his larger, lankier one.

your skin tingles, your heart soars, your laughs are swallowed by the other. gojo kisses you like it’s his last day on earth and he knows that you’d accompany him to heaven, even if he doesn’t deserve to go there. he’d claw and burn through hell just so he could get to the angel that is you, again.

“i love you,” it’s whispered breathlessly from his lips, like it’s taboo and forbidden and in his world and profession, you knew it was just that much when things can get ugly any second.

yes, love can be the most twisted curse of all, but when gojo satoru looks at you — the way he looks like you hung the moon and stars — he can only see a damn blessing.

Oie, boa tarde! Poderia me chamar no chat? gostaria de fazer uma pergunta para você, caso fosse possível.

desde já, desculpe o incômodo.

chamei bem

Why did I see this as Satoru and Suguru?

😭😭😢

Oh, my rats!

/made to order/

a/n: yeah this is very indulgent LMFAO, this is all for my people who get really clingy because the feelings are just too much to handle ^^

warnings: tooth rooting fluff :3 not proofread just wrote this in 15 minutes ^^

It wasn't like you were cold but you were afraid of being downright clingy, because you were. You understand it was a turn-off to certain people, especially in early months of a relationship. But Gojo wasn't certain people, he knew you were hiding it who you truly are and he can't help the feeling of his heart breaking at the thought of someone making you act this way.

So Gojo would amp up his clinginess. Every time he comes home, you're immediately in his arms, whispering a soft "I miss you, baby" in your ear as he nuzzles his cheek on your neck. Doesn't matter if he just came home from a long overseas mission, a normal day teaching his students, or even quick walk to the grocery store. He would always tell you how much he missed you even if he was a second away from you, hoping at some point you'd do the same too.

Even the PDA was amped up too, his hand would always seem to find yours when you're walking side by side. Visiting the first years real quick would always result in the loudest whine Gojo has ever produced out of his mouth, his arm never leaving your waist as he tightens his hold around your body and forcing you to come back to his side.

The first year students would outwardly cringe seeing an almost 30 year old man not being able to handle his girlfriend leaving but Gojo never cared for anyone's opinion, proving to you that he will always love you.

In a few months, his hard work was rewarded. He slowly began to receive occasional text messages ranging from "I miss you," "Been thinking about you" whenever you had a small break in your day to "Come home, babe." with that damn puppy eyes emoji that makes Gojo melt. He even abandoned a mission he was on that kept him away for three days when he first received those messages, fuck the higher ups, his girl always comes first.

Now, you weren't afraid to show this clingy side of you and he absolutely loves it. The teary, puppy eyes you give him in the mornings when he has to get ready for work The many unexpected calls just because you had a stressful day and you needed to hear his voice for just five minutes. And when he is home, you would always jump into his arms and give him all the loving words he always wanted to hear.

Gojo loves it all, loves you because he understood that this is your way to show that he is the only occupant in your heart and that will never ever change. So what if he has to deal with spams of text messages of you whining for him to come home quick because you felt lonely, or the excessive tugging of his wrist to get him back to cuddling you even if he has to pee?

If this is how you are in this relationship, he wouldn't mind experiencing it for the rest of your lives.

You guys know what the best thing is about Gojo Satoru? The fact that he's so loyal.

Give him that one person he can open up to and I swear you'll find the strongest sorcerer act like a clingy lovesick puppy at their feet.

The last person he trusted with his true self, even though they had a fight and didn't talk for 10 years, he still thinks about to this day and he still holds him near and dear to his heart that he looks for him everywhere after his death.

It's insane when you think about it, despite the trauma he went through, the responsibilities that was shoved into his arms the moment he was born, and the devastating loneliness of being the strongest. He finds a person worthy of even a glimpse of who he truly is and you find his heart bursting with pure love and joy.

There's nothing more devoted than Gojo Satoru, in my opinion.

Tee…

I’m now on my hands and knees BEGGING for bully Gojo who is (secretly) DISGUSTINGLY IN LOVE over the reader PLEASE ANY CRUMBS I WILL TAKE

(you don’t actually have to write this it was just a nice thought)

idkkkkk if it’s rly bully gojo—but he’s definitely a real cunt for sure.

i just think about an asshole! gojo a lot like he’s ur lab partners or something and he does that stereotypical jerk move where he’s like “seriously ?? her ??” when he’s first paired with you. and he’s just naturally an douche, yk ?? wears sunglasses indoors and makes jokes at the professors expense under his breath that gets him snickers and snorts from his frat guys in his class. has to be asked more than once to “please keep it down in the middle of class” by wtv prof he’s in class with.

and he ofc makes u do all the work bc he can’t be bothered—and on the rare occasion that he is bothered, he just does a poor job that’s the bare minimum and sloppy enough that ur like wtv i’ll just do it myself. and then ofc sometimes u don’t have a choice but to meet up to finish something after class every now and then—he wouldn’t care to, but he actually needs to know the stuff for the final report he has to write individually, so he begrudgingly meets up with you, and sometimes you notice his friends give you an amused look when he walks up with them. they snicker before they leave as he sits with you. sometimes they make a snide comment here and there like “have fun with ur super hot date” that makes him roll his eyes—he doesn’t do much to hide the look of distaste on his face.

but then—and he doesn’t even know when it happens—you start to slowly grow on him. because ur actually pretty snarky urself, sometimes making a dry comment here and there about the professor and his stupid bald headed self. sometimes a girl in the distance laughs too hard a group of guys that u roll ur eyes and mumble how “if i had a voice like that i’d never laugh in public” and it makes him snort a bit without meaning to. sometimes you stare daggers at the person who has their music so loud thru their headphones they can’t help but notice u and turn it down in embarrassment. ur actually not as much of a pushover as he thought—you just genuinely think he’s too incapable to help u out that you’ve just shrugged him off and started doing his part. it’s an easy weekly lab class anyway, you don’t need him—and then he realizes that u rly just don’t care for him. his little snickers at u with his friends and their snide comments roll off ur back bc well…he’s him—an asshole little frat boy and u didn’t expect anything better from him. so it makes him a little intrigued—maybe a little wounded in his pride, deep down, because no one has ever been indifferent to him before. they’re either madly in love, or they hate his guts, or they follow his lead. either works—he still gets the attention he craves.

but u just don’t rly care. and ur actually pretty cool, and kinda sorta funny in a way no one else is. he likes it…and fuck, now he’s starting to like you. he can tell bc when his friends ask how his little date with you went, he starts getting a bit huffy ab it bc they don’t need to talk about you. they don’t even know you…but also….its not a date. and that’s the worst part. sometimes it feels like a date. almost—sometimes you both decide to take a break in between and go get a coffee or a light snack. sometimes he’s even paid (to which you look mildly shocked before politely thanking him) and you both walk back to the library while u make light banter and it’s…well, fun. and nice. and your laugh is pretty. and your smile is kinda cute and he (though he hates to admit it) rly likes it when u laugh because of him.

and then things start to get messy—really, he didn’t mean for it to start this way. he really was meaning to ask you in a genuine manner to see u again once the semester was finished. because he’s actually started pulling his weight—he wants u to see him for someone who’s smart. satoru is actually rly rly smart and no one knows it because he doesn’t rly show it but he is. he wants u to see that side of him—somehow there’s some sick validation he rly needs from you knowing he’s not a dense frat guy who drinks and fucks until 3 am every night. so he starts doing his parts and actually communicates with u about sections. so starts ur texting routine—sometimes a little longer than u rly need to for just doing a lab together. sometimes it’s “did u hear ab that girl in our class getting dumped in front of the kfc ??” and sometimes it’s “god our prof rly needs to get some pussy” and other times it’s “look what the guy who sits behind us just posted on his story” and it leads to a few long convos that admittedly…are rly fun. ur so fun. he likes it. he rly does like u and he thinks maybe….maybe he’s grown on u too and you know what ?? satoru’s always a jerk but ur nice and who’s to say he can’t be nice too ?? just for one person. for u, he can be a nice guy—u carried lab all on ur own long enough that u deserve it anyway.

until he gets swayed in that way only a coward can. in that way you do when ur used to being “the man” around ur friends and ur too pressured to keep up that energy for appearances sake bc u don’t wanna be the laughing stock who softened up for “some nerdy chick who’s a nobody.” so he laughs when they laugh at the fact that ur probably “still a virgin who’s never touched a guy before” and then they’re patting gojo on the back and shoving at his shoulder as they laugh harder and suggest that “y’know what would be so funny man ?? if u took her virginity. you could probably do it.”

the thought is sickening because…satoru wouldn’t want to fuck you like that. god, you have him caring about when and how he fucks you—in fact, just thinking about you lewdly makes him feel guilty. disrespectful, even. you’re more than a fleshlight for his dick. since when did he become so respectful ?? but he doesn’t know how to say no, especially when everyone starts agreeing one after the other—and oh no, now they’re betting on how quickly he can do it….and oh, now it’s not just fucking. now it’s “how long until you think she’s head over heels for you? man, that would be a sight, huh ??”

and….well, satoru decides it couldn’t hurt, right ?? he does want to be romantically involved so that would include you being head over heels. hopefully. fingers crossed. and he doesn’t rly want to seem lame in front of the guys either, so he gets to keep both sides of the coin, so is it really that bad ?? maybe not the right idea but certainly the right execution. he’ll treat you well—that much he’s confident of. so he forces out a laugh and says “gimme a month or two, you’ll see.”

and a month or two they give him. and a month or two it takes—but not for you to be head over heels. it’s him who’s utterly and completely obsessed and fallen head first and whatever else they say to describe love because wow. this must be what it is. this must be that stupid fairytale shit they always talk about because fuck, no one has ever looked at him like that. like he’s some miracle to this earth and some wonder only you know of—like you hope it stays that way and that he’s yours and yours alone and no one else comes in to take him away. satoru really likes being yours, it kinda feels better than you being his. being yours means you hold him like that at night and wake him up to a kiss between his brows and sometimes, when he gets those migraines he’s prone to getting, you always seem to know. always seem to understand when to close the blinds and keep quiet and wrap him up in the covers as you rub your thumbs over his temples soothingly.

he almost forgets about that silly little bet he made two months ago when he’s around you. actually, he forgets everything when he’s around you. he’s only ever thinking about you, you, you. when he comes back to his frat house, on the other hand, they’re all gathered around waiting for the newest details. how you must’ve been so pathetically star struck by him. how you must be embarrassingly bad at kissing. how you must stutter over every other word around him. how you must be making a complete and utter fool of urself trying to impress him and be someone you’re not bc the real you would never pique his interest.

they’re wrong ofc. if anyone’s star struck, it’s satoru bc how the hell are u so…cool ?? and so funny and witty and carefree ?? and you’re good at kissing—have him chasing your lips with a whine every time. sometimes you even chuckle at him when he does and make him blush a bit. he’s the one who stutters over his words when he sees you in your little date night outfits. sometimes he watches you drink from your straw and his brain short circuits a little until you snap at him and ask him in confusion if he’s alright. but the real kicker ?? it’s that if anyone’s pretending, it’s satoru. you’re always just you—unapologetically so, that it’s endearing and beautiful and so unearthly he wonders how he got so lucky. but him ?? he’s always acting like some guy he’s not. some chivalrous guy who opens doors and pushes out seats and kisses the back of hands and waits at least a few dates before even considering fucking. some nice, sweet, genuine guy who’s deserving.

he’s not that—never was. if you knew the real him, you’d leave in a heartbeat. it’s a scary thought. a raw feeling he doesn’t like. makes him feel all self conscious and insecure and all that weird shit he never thought he’d feel.

he tries. so hard, he tries to make them forget about that silly little bet and just slowly drop it and maybe even forget ur dating so he can just stay living this peaceful little fantasy with you—but that’s stupid. that’s naive. it’s been 4 months and enough is enough—the guys need to see the look on ur face when u realize what a fool ur being and satoru is “being a lazy ass who’s too comfortable not having for work for pussy these days.” so then there’s a video going around. it’s everyone gathered around on the couch drunk and talking about you. and satoru. you both, in fact. how it’s been two months and u seem desperate for his attention with the shrill little voice you use to call him toru, baby! it’s so, so fucking embarrassing, they say. how you think he likes it. (he does. god he does so much, it hurts. he loves it, actually, when you call him that. makes him feel special in a way he never has.) but then, the worst, most disgustingly nauseous part of the whole thing is when satoru laughs along and plays into their awful words. just lets them talk about you like you’re some piece of meat. something for him to chew up and spit out after he has a taste or you. not even worth savoring and enjoying. he laughs along and agrees—you’re nothing special and he can’t wait until he’s free of you.

that part hurts. that part sucks the most—when he acts like he didn’t tremble under your touch every time you kissed him. like he didn’t beg you to stay just five more minutes! before walking out the door to go home. he acts one way in front of you and one way in front of them and what’s worse ?? you don’t know which one is real. couldn’t tell even if your life was on the line to decide. because there’s no way he’s that good at pretending to be desperately in love, no fucking way. but there’s also no way he can be in love if he’s talking about you like that. that’s not what love is—that’s not what love feels like. that’s not what it means to someone.

you don’t know which satoru is the real one, but you know that neither is worth your time. not if he can’t stick to it.

it’s terrible thing—the way you break up. it’s messy and teary and he’s begging, he’s actually begging. he never thought he’d do that. but he doesn’t even hesitate to plead for you to hear him out. baby, please let me explain. wait, please don’t walk away—please just listen! i can explain.

he can’t explain, though when you as him to. stands there with a bitten bottom lip and teary eyes that are pleading you to just stay with him. to overlook this and just … ignore it like it’s nothing. like what he did and said was just nothing and you can shrug it off like you’re nothing too. like your feelings are nothing and so is your worth and that’s why you should just ignore the way he absolutely destroyed your pride and reputation and dignity and worse….every ounce of your love.

such deep, raw, pure love—it’s almost enough to heal every dry crack and crevice of this earth and bring it back to life.

you look at him with teary eyes and something so broken, it makes him feel like dirt beneath your feet.

“it’s embarrassing, satoru,” you hiss that night through tears, “you’re in your twenties getting a degree and you’re still just a high school bully. life’s really gonna kick you in the ass some day.”

life’s already kicking him in the ass as soon as you walk out. the air is colder. the world is dimmer. food doesn’t taste as good and fuck—there is just so much loneliness when you have no one to be yourself with. when there’s no you.

but he supposes you’re right though—he is just a bully. it’s pathetic, really. and maybe it’s for the best. maybe you don’t deserve someone who’s only ever known how to feel good because someone else doesn’t.