“i desire very little, but the things i do consume me.”
─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─
yandere!gojo satoru x reader
warnings: heavy yandere themes!! swearing, gojo gets you drunk, he's insane actually, a bit suggestive, kidnapping
a.n. - this took me so long to push out sorry! thank you for everyone who waited patiently <3
also sorry if any powers/techniques aren’t canon-accurate. my excuse is that i’m stupid :D
─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─
you’ve heard the stories, of course.
every sorcerer in tokyo knows of him- the one called gojo satoru. a man somehow so powerful that he has to wear a blindfold to minimize the effects of his treasured six eyes technique.
but hearing about him and actually seeing him are two different things.
it's your first day as a teacher at jujutsu high, a day so busy you were sent on your first mission before your orientation was even over. they trusted you enough to handle it, you had the perfect credentials after all.
and it's during this high-stakes mission in kabukichō when you first witnessed the true power of the greatest sorcerer of all time.
a grade 2 curse- a multi-limbed grotesque abomination- had you cornered in a dark alley, hissing gibberish as its nails scratch lines into the buildings that surround it.
believe it or not, this is exactly where you want to be. you faked weakness so it would follow you as you lured it into the alleyway, with just enough space to hurl a wave of cursed energy to keep it at bay so you could make your finishing move.
but as you crouch down to perform your final technique, a gust of wind sends your hair whipping into your face.
gojo satoru suddenly stands at the mouth of the alley, figure doused in red under soft neon lights of the entertainment district. his stance is confident, almost cocky as he tilts his head at the scene with a grin. your eyes widen, the grip on your weapon slackening as you take in the sight.
when your opponent sees your gaze focused behind it, it turns to see what had grabbed your attention. tunnel vision now locked on gojo, it screeches a guttural scream, body contorting as it lunges at him- a new prey to chase. but before either you or the curse can blink, gojo simply raises a hand.
with a twitch of his fingers and a muttered chant, the curse explodes into fragments, dissipating into the cool air. you stand there for a moment, gathering your bearings as your mind catches up to what had just occured.
the tall man turns towards you, and you shiver slightly when you can somehow feel the gaze of his eyes beneath the blindfold.
“interesting,” he croons, walking towards you now, “a new teacher, huh?”
you blink at him, bewildered.
“you did good,” his voice is slightly teasing, somewhat condescending as he looks down at you.
“but next time,” he continues, “don’t let it get that close. wouldn’t want to see that pretty face all scratched up, would we?”
excuse me? you almost scoff at the blantant lack of respect. you want to argue with him, want to explain that you needed to be that close for your technique- that you had it handled. you want to demand how he just obliterated a grade 2 curse with minimal- if not any effort. but you find yourself only asking one thing- as if you don't already know.
he grins, and your pulse stutteres for a moment. “gojo satoru. pleasure to meet you.”
he holds out his hand, and you stare at it for a moment, before cautiously reaching your out to grab it. a weird, almost tingly feeling envelopes your hand, like it has just pushed through some sort of barrier.
and as he looks down at you with that infuriating grin, you feel like you've just agreed to something unspoken.
a connection- clicked into place.
after that night, it was like you saw him everywhere. it was normal to an extent, as you are both teachers at the jujutsu high. but most of it wasn't.
he'd follow you through the halls of jujutsu high, teasing you in that sing-songy mocking voice, offering unwanted pieces of advice. when you were teaching your students, he'd show up in the middle of class, leaning up against the doorframe as he listened to your lesson as if he was a principal reviewing a teacher. even when you were walking alone through the courtyard, you swear you can feel his eyes on you- eyes that you have yet to actually see.
and then he started showing up during your missions. one after the other, as if he didn't trust you to finish your assignment unscathed.
and today, you're in some random city in tokyo hidden beneath ground in an empty subway tunnel when it happens again.
you had been sent here for a mission, and just from looking at the report you knew it would be simple- effortless, maybe.
but your heart stutters in your chest when a high-pitched gurgled scream echoes off the curved walls of the tunnel.
wary, you step forward slowly over the tracks, towards the sound that's gaining in volume.
crouched down with a hand on your cursed tool- a dagger- you wait for the curse to show itself. eventually, it comes into the view around the corner, another large monstrocity with multiple large eyes covering the expanse of its gooey skin.
with huff, you advance, raising your weapon over your head. you use the walls as momentum, kicking off the concrete to leap into the warm stale air. your bring your weapon down onto the curse, but a flash of blue and white invades your vision.
with a yelp, you tumble to the ground, dagger never making contact with the curse. you stand up, and look around in confusion.
nothing is here. it's like the curse completely disappeared, leaving you alone. but you swear you saw a flash of-
"miss me?" a smooth voice sounds out behind you, and as you turn you see a figure step out of the shadows. you scoff once you see who it is.
"gojo." your voice drips in disdain. "what are you doing here?"
"still so formal," he chuckles, "i thought we were past that." he's chipper, looking mighty proud of himself.
oh, how you would love the smack that look off his face. as soon as you realize what's happened, your cheeks redden in pure frustration.
you grit your teeth. "this is my mission."
he smiles at you, nodding. "mhm, and now it's done. come on, i'm just helping. what? you mad, sweets?" he just grins at you, thoroughly eating up the expression on your face when you hear the petname.
sweets? oh. ohoho. you could just-
you curse under your breath, before raising your voice, the sound reverberating off the walls.
"stop intercepting my missions. this is the literally the 7th time. don't you have anything better to do? and stop talking to me like that. i mean come on, we're coworkers."
you ramble on, the exasperation you've been feeling for the past month coming to a breaking point. you put your hands on your waist, feeling like you're lecturing a misbehaving child.
"just, stop. please just stop." your face is in your hands now, rubbing at the headache already forming between your brows. you hear his black leather shoes shuffle towards you, before slender fingers bring your chin up.
you suck in a breath as your eyes rest on the blindfold that's now way too close for your liking.
"i'm just...looking out for you," he murmurs. your eyes narrow at his words, and you pull your chin back roughly, putting distance between the two of you once again.
"well don't." you hiss, and you walk away from him without turning back, his gaze on your retreating form.
when you get back to the school, you march up the stairs and burst into ijichi's office, hands clenched into fists.
"he's ruining my missions, ijichi. this has to stop." he looks up from some papers, eyebrows furrowing at your words.
"who?" he asks, blinking at you owlishly. you stare at him in disbelief at his question. who else could it be? has he not noticed the 6'2 man trailing after you whenever you're on campus? but he still just looks at you in confusion.
you roll your eyes. "gojo. he's been interecepting my missions," you start pacing around the room, "sometimes he'll just show up, exorcizing the curse that i've been assigned just for the fun of it. a- a what? snap of his fingers? a spoken chant and the curses are just gone. i thought at first he was just doing it to show off like the irritating brat that he is, but it's not. its like-"
"no! it's not okay, ijichi. missions i've spent hours preparing for are rendered moot the second he shows up- before i can even react they're just gone-"
"okay, okay." he holds up his hands, almost like he's begging you to stop talking. "gojo is...well you know how he is. how vital he is to this whole thing." he gestures with his hands around the office, obviously referencing the entire school as well.
"we can't tell him to stop doing something- nobody just tells gojo something like that." you groan in frustration, bringing your hands up to your eyes.
"are you kidding me?" you bring your hands down again. "i'm rusting over here!" you hiss at him.
"what if i'm not ready when something actually dangerous shows up? i haven't completed a single mission on my own in a month, ijichi. a month. that is just ridiculous. the students are getting more field time than me."
"hey, hey." he sighs, standing up. he walks around the desk towards you and places his hands on your shoulders. "you are one of the best teachers we have. gojo is just..." he backs away, pinching the bridge of his nose, "...protective. in his own way."
you scoff at him. "protective? he treats me like a child, ijichi. that's concerning."
he doesn't argue with you, just hands you a file for your next mission.
"just...i don't know. ignore it. if it makes you feel better, i'll try restricting his access to your mission files." you nod, frustrated.
"fine. thank you," you mutter, still not convinced that it would actually do anything. you know gojo will get his hands on the files either way, with ijichi being so soft towards him. gojo would get his way, you're sure of it.
it's your night off- no missions, no students, no classes, no work. just a rare, blissful night off.
your friends had dragged you to a little hole-in-the-wall club in shibuya- one of those clubs that plays 2000s bangers and where people still actually dance. it was fun, especially with the drinks you had knocked back from the bar.
you're in the middle of fake-grinding playfully against one of your girlfriends when you feel a sudden shift in the air, a change in cursed energy. your friend doesn't notice, obviously, but you do.
your eyes shift towards the door, where you see a flash of white hair.
maybe you're hallucinating. or maybe you're just drunk.
"hey, you okay?" your friend yells at you over the music, noticing your dancing is lacking the energy you had a few seconds ago. you nod at her, flashing her a smile.
"yeah! i'm going to get another drink!" she gives you a thumbs up before turning to dance against another friend.
you turn and start pushing through people. the club is packed, air thick with fog and sweat, bright colored lights pulsating throughout the room. you reach the bar, sliding onto one of the stools as you wave the bartender over and ask for another drink.
rummaging in your pocket, you pull out a yen note. but before you can give it to the bartender, a hand shoots out and grabs it.
"hey!" you yell, turning to find the perpetrator, and there is he is in all his glory, holding the note out of your reach.
"long time no see, huh?" satoru stands there, head tilted down at you as he sends you a devilish grin. his blindfold is gone, replaced by dark round sunglasses- which would have been normal if the club wasn't already dark. his normal uniform is also nowhere to be seen, replaced by a casual fit that somehow makes him look even more attractive.
but your expression still shifts into anger at his presence.
"what are you doing here? did you follow me?" you're perplexed, yelling over the music. this is a small club, one of thousands in tokyo. the chance that he just stumbled across this one is almost zero, and you know for sure he tracked you somehow.
he laughs, head tilted back. "let me buy you a drink." he's trying to distract you, you notice.
you shake your head at him. "no way. give me my money back. you need to leave, gojo." he smiles again, and his expression makes you feel somewhat uneasy.
"let me buy you a drink," he repeats, sunglasses pushed up, an intense gaze on you. he pulls you closer with a hand on your waist, and you're so distracted by how close he is that you almost don't notice how he carefully slides the note back in your pocket.
without letting his grip on your waist falter, he looks up at the bartender and slides him a note of his own, listing off an unfamiliar drink and some shots.
you're dazed- from the cool breath on your neck as he leans over you and from the alcohol racing through your system. any other day you wouldn't have let him get this close to you but you're brain is catching up too slow to care.
once the drinks are out he slides the line of shots towards you, keeping the actual drink for himself. you look up at him, amused.
"you ordered a line of shots? really?" but he just smirks at you, motioning for you to start on them.
you think for a minute- through your mind's haze. is it worth it? to forget about all of his strange behavior? to just have one night of fun before everything goes back to normal?
to have just one night pretending that satoru is just another cute guy?
one by one, you throw back the shots, before throwing your hands up with a shout. he laughs then, loud and bright, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the mass of dancing people.
the shots hit you hard and fast, spinning the world into a blur and sewing a smile on your lips.
satoru's presence is overwhelming, and all you can see is him. he's looking at you in a certain way- like he's seeing your very existence, peeling back the layers of your soul.
like you are the only thing in the world worth looking at.
it makes your stomach flip, and you're not sure if its a good thing or a bad thing. but you dance with him, for how long you're not sure.
he never lets you get far, pulling you back to his warm body once you've strayed, letting his chin rest of your shoulder and his hands on your hips as you move against him, chin tilting up to look at him.
and then he's kissing you, you think. you're not sure- everything feels numb. the lights are too bright and you feel like you can't breath- either because of the hot air or because he just doesn't let you.
mouth enveloping your own, fighting for dominance that he wins.
he lets you breathe, eventually, tilting his head down to trail his mouth up your neck.
the music pulses around you, bass vibrating through your body. and his touch is everywhere, fingers tracing along your arms and down your stomach, breath hot against your ear as he whispers something you can't hear.
you're drunk, you're being reckless, but you couldn't care less.
you wake up to sunlight streaming through semi-transparent, unfamilar curtains. your head is pounding and your mouth is filled with what feels like cotton.
you push yourself up from the white covers, eyes bleary and unfocused. you slowly let your eyes trail around the room.
there's a lot of white. white walls, white sheets. but hints of color pop out at you- a navy blue comforter, a few minimalistic posters lining the walls, candy wrappers thrown impassively on a desk. wood furniture, wood flooring.
it's nice- really nice. sophisticated, polished.
a jacket hangs over a desk chair. you recognize that jacket- it belongs to satoru.
you realize with a start what happened last night, and you suck in a breath of air as you panic. you can't remember what happened shortly after you saw gojo at the bar. you somewhat remember him leading you to the dance floor, but that's as far as your memory will take you.
you pull back the covers, revealing all your clothes still intact. that's a relief, you suppose.
so...this wasn't a one night stand? what was it then? honestly, it's weirder to be waking up in someone's apartment and have it not be from a one night stand.
it's strange that he's not here, you don't hear him in the connecting bathroom either, but before you can think on it harder your phone buzzes in your pocket. you take it out and press on the text notification.
it's your friend from the club last night, practically spamming you as she asks if you're okay.
did she not see you leave with satoru?
you call her, and ask her that very question. she responds, almost out of breath, that one second you were next to her dancing with him, and the next you were gone. within seconds.
ah. he must've teleported with you here. but you can't tell her that, so you just calm her down and explained that he must've taken you back to his apartment because you were dangerously wasted and he doesn't know where your apartment is.
but even after the explaination, she doesn't calm down. instead, she goes on to tell you to check the news. something about a fire?
and she's apologizing, then. over and over, apologizing and thanking the universe that you're alive. that you didn't go to your apartment last night, that the "hot man" took you to his instead.
you give up trying to get her to calm down, and instead look up "local fires" on your phone to try to see what she's talking about.
and your heart drops to your stomach.
local fire in tokyo near mount mushiro envelops an entire apartment building in flames. zero casualties, but two people have been sent to the hospital with severe injuries.
attached is a photo of your apartment, or what is left of it. smoke trails into the sky, flames licking through the windows, the rest of the building collapsed into crumbled stone. the street looks to be already cordoned off, firefighters working to stop the flames from spreading.
no. no no no. this can't be happening.
you read the local newsource with horror, telling your friend that you have to go. you hang up, and stumble out of the bed to gather your belongings that are strewn across the floor. you need to go. you need to see if you can still save any of your belongings, you need to-
the door is locked. there's no keyhold, or even a code keyboard. it's just secured with some sort of blinking black box- the kind that requires some sort of app, you hypothesize.
"what the hell?" you hiss, slamming your palms against the door.
"hello?! gojo?!" you curse loudly. "satoru??!"
you phone is ringing, buzzing somewhere on the bed. you drop your belongings from your hand, scrambling to get to it.
you answer it, bringing it up to your ear. you already know who it is.
"gojo, i swear to fucking god, if you don't open this god damned door i'm going to-"
"ah, goodmorning sweets." he interrupts you, voice soft, crooning. "did you sleep well?"
you blink at the wall, mind scrambling. you talk through the phone, slowly, seething. "where the fuck am i?"
a quiet laugh through the phone, an amused chuckle. "my apartment, silly. where else would you be?" he uses that tone on you. that infuriatingly condescending tone he's given you since the beginning.
maybe he's given you signs all along. that he doesn't see you normally, that he thinks you need protection.
signs that he's sick in the head.
"well, how the hell did i get here?" your gripping the phone so tightly you're worried you're going to crack it. you're pacing the large bedroom now, feet padding angrily against the surface as you wait for his response.
he hums, then pauses. the sound of chair creaks in the background of the call, like he's sitting down. where is he?
"aw, you don't remember last night, do you?" he sounds like he's pouting, showing sympathy for a child having a tantrum.
you frown. "remember what?" he chuckles again at your question before continuing.
"hm. you were so fun, so responsive." his voice drops lower. "i think you liked it, didn't you?" he trills. your face burns at the insinuation. you give a disbelieving laugh at his words.
"unbelievable. you asshole." you spit into the phone. he touched you, you're sure of it now. he laughs again, darkly. but you're not going to get anywhere if you're accusing him. you have to play nice. you have to get out.
"gojo, my apart-" "nope," he interrupts. you pause in confusion. what?
"try again." it's silent for a moment. what does he want? a lightbulb goes off in your head, and you almost scoff. but you hold it in, determined to leave.
"satoru..." he hums, and you continue, "...my apartment is gone." he's silent again, thinking.
"there's no point in going back." his voice is soft now, almost kind. "the scene's probably blocked off anyway. you know, police, firefighters. messy things. dangerous things."
as he talks, your eyes snag on a piece of clothing peaking out the closet. you pad over, and open the folding doors to find rows and rows of hanging clothes.
your clothes. the clothes in your apartment. along with your shoes, your personal belongings. you blink at it all, digesting the onslaught of information.
you whisper into the phone, "you-" your voice cracks, "you did this?"
"i protected you. you shouldn't have to live there. my apartment is much nicer." he isn't making any sense. none of this makes sense to you.
but, you continue. "you burned down my home." your lip trembles, eyes filling with tears. you bring a knuckle up you your mouth as you stare at all of your belongings.
"to ensure you had nowhere else to go." he sighs, like you're being difficult, like you're not understanding.
"you're safe here," he murmurs, "with me. away from all the bad stuff."
bad stuff? curses? run down apartments? missions? work?
perhaps he's referring to it all. the bad stuff- anything that doesn't include you safe, here.
the lock on the door clicks, and your knees almost give out. you stumble back towards the opposite wall as the door swings open, revealing the culprit.
gojo satoru leans against the doorway, head almost touching the the door frame, hands in his pockets as he tilts his head, six eyes burning into you.
he smiles at you. a big grin, one you've seen one too many times as he's intercepting missions, following you around, protecting you from danger only he could possibly see.
you stand frozen against the wall.
"you're trembling," he whispers, holding out his arms. "you cold, baby?" you shake your head at him, slowly. he's insane.
"let me out," your voice cracks again. his smile softened, a pout forming on his lips again.
"it's okay, you're safe here."
you shift from fear to anger, stomping forward as you shove against his chest. he doesn't even budge, you realize. your hands hadn't even made contact.
you realize who you're up against, now. he's not just some random man. the anger fizzles out of you, leaving your limbs feeling like jelly.
he raises his arm to let his fingers brush against your cheek. you flinch, but he just smiles softly at you.
"you know," his head tilts up, like he's thinking, but his eyes refuse to budge from your figure. "i've been thinking about your future."
"your...job," he spits it out like it revolts him. "you're too visible. you put yourself in too much danger...taking on these mission left and right that don't fit with your...talents." sniffs, he looking down at you again.
"i'm perfectly fit for my job," your voice wavers. but he just shakes his head at you slowly, unblinking.
"no," he whispers, "you're not." the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and you bristle.
"so what, you're gonna have ijichi retire me?" his eyes darken at the sound of another man's name. but he sighs, calming himself.
he hums. "sure, that works." you pause at his response.
"sure, that works"? what the hell kind of response is that?
ijichi's not going to retire you, you realize. ijichi will have no say in it. you will have no say in it.
you shudder. "i can take care of myself."
"can you?" he's almost mocking you now. "or do you just think you can?"
your hands clench into fists. "you don't get to decide my life for me," you hiss at him. at your words, he steps closer to you, pressing you further into the room until your knees hit the side of the bed and you fall down onto it.
"you let me touch you," his hand trails up your leg, "let me hold you, caress you," he's whispering now, a cheshire smirk mocking your fear.
his other hand comes up to rest against your throat, his knee resting on the edge of the bed for stability. he's laying over you now, lips a whisper away, head tilted slightly.
"trusted me enough to let me take you home. you don't remember? you begged for it," he bites at you, pulling you towards him until all you can feel is the heat of him against the cold air.
it hits you then. he's not going to let you go. you're not leaving this room until he decides.
"you're safe," he murmers, as his lips meet yours.
you don't want to accept it, but what other choice do you have against the strongest sorcerer?
─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─
i can't tell if i like this or hate this. but it's good practice for writing and i'll only get better from here ig anywhooo lmk what you think
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not proofread. picture from pinterest, not my quote!
