Satoru Gojo - The Misconception

need a long ass fanfic thats gonna distract me from my misery

hope u love this silly quick note :P

satoru gojo - the misconception

a small drabble

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when it comes to s. gojo, many people like to not only mischaracterize him, but also take words out of context from official media. no, satoru is not a cheater— nor would he be unfaithful. he just wouldn’t have time even for himself to enjoy an actual relationship, hints why he couldn’t be tie down.

but if he could, oh he would.

this is the same man who yearned for his best friend who he only ever had in his high school years. Barely even two years, and managed to try and follow behind the one and only person he ever felt a real, raw connection towards to.

he wouldn’t need to be pampered financially. If anything, he wanted to be showered in affection. He was weak for your kisses, how delicate and soft your lips usually were, how the two of you cuddled up together and the amount of attention you give him. Even if it was barely a minute.

he would be hopelessly devoted to you. He could give you his own beating heart to you if he could. Even the strongest could be weak. He would kiss the feet you walk on, not physically— or maybe. Satoru cares too much. Even if he never shows it, he find himself loving more than he should. And even with his doubts and his own fears of committing as well as loving, he will still find himself loving you. even if he forced himself to try and tell himself he was better off alone.

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a small lil note on gojo thoughts lololol . tired of the cheating scenarios of my king who would probably yearn even in the next lifetime

𝘄𝗶𝘀𝗵 𝗜 𝗵𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 - 𝘀𝗮𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘂 𝗴𝗼𝗷𝗼

sypnosis. your dreams with Satoru coming to an end after the 'shinjuku showdown' fight aftermath.

contents. hurt/no comfort, canon-typical violence, blood, major character death, emotional distress, angst, fiancé!gojo.

word count. 1k

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Life had a way for screwing him over.

When Satoru Gojo thought about death, he brushed it off. The strongest can’t die, he used to say. Almost thinking it as some sort of joke or an insult towards him. He believed—deep down—that he’d be the one sorcerer to walk away without regrets. Or at least, that he’d be exempt from them.

But after the fight with Sukuna in Shinjuku on December 24th, 2018?

He realized just how wrong he was.

Even after declaring victory, he didn’t quite expect Sukuna to stop right there and then. One second of letting his guard down was all it took. One second to cost him everything.

There’s so much blood. The metallic scent hangs heavy in the air as Satoru lies on the ground he once fought beneath—his body in two halves, cleaved straight through his Infinity. He’s barely conscious now, slipping in and out. Something he never thought would happen. Not to him.

Everything hurts. God, he forgot just how bad this felt ever since his fight with Toji Fushiguro. His one and only slip up, he thought. It was almost like deja vu for the man. But not hurting as much as seeing you cry.

When he hears your voice tremble—*“I just got you back”—*something in him became aware of something he hadn’t realize yet. All this time, putting work above, rushing for the thrill of not only fighting but his goals as well made him realize it wasn’t just him being affected, but everyone else who admired him.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, voice raw and fragile. Even speaking hurts.

Years.

Months of finally having peace. Of holding your hand without fear. Of knowing you were his, and he was yours. Of talking about wedding venues and late-night takeout. And now—just like that—it was all crumbling.

You told yourself you wouldn’t cry. No. You shouldn’t cry.

He was going to make it.

He had to.

But the more blood you saw, the more you saw his eyes flutter closed, the more that belief began to feel like a fantasy.

You had just gotten him back.

You were just about to get married.

You were finally building the life you dreamed of.

You shook your head, rejecting his apology. “It’s okay. Really, it’s okay…” you whispered, your voice nearly breaking. You stood at his side, frozen. Paralyzed. You didn’t care who was watching—his students, Shoko—it didn’t matter. You were more vulnerable than ever, and all you could see was him.

Then he asked if you were mad at him. Even now, even like this, he was worried about your feelings. About where you stood. About hurting you. “No… no, don’t say that…” you mumbled, finally stepping forward to take his hand. Your outfit was soaked in blood—his blood. Your eyes were red, your face flushed. You looked like a mess, but none of it mattered.

You wanted everyone to see what had been done to him.

To feel even a fraction of what you and Satoru felt.

His eyes drooped again, and panic set in. Was time running out already? “I’m not mad. I’ll never be mad,” you sniffled. Your voice cracked again. Even through every fight, every harsh word, your devotion never wavered. Satoru managed a weak smile, relief softening his battered face. Pain rippled through him as he leaned into your touch. His eyes fluttered closed, and a shallow, rattling breath escaped him. Speaking was getting harder.

When his gaze met yours again, it faltered. You were covered in his blood. You looked completely broken. “You don’t… have to see me like this…” he whispered. The words were barely air. But you couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“I love you.”

It was time.

Those words had waited too long. Always there, always understood—but never said. They weren’t casual words. Not for you. They carried weight. Meaning.

Real. Serious.

That’s why he looked so shocked.

“I love you, Satoru Gojo,” you said again, firmer this time. Your voice wavered, but it was clear.

If he wasn't in his current state, he would've probably taken that statement as a joke to deflect the tension between them. But Satoru couldn't deny the sincerity of your words, and the emotion behind them made his heart ache. For the first time in a long time, he felt vulnerable, even if he was close to death.

He squeezed your hand—weakly, but with intent. His lips parted, trying to reply, but his throat clenched. No words came.

You didn’t need them. Not really.

“I will always love you,” you whispered.

You wanted to hear it back—just once. But you didn’t ask. You wouldn’t put that weight on him. Not now.

Leaning down, you kissed him.

A soft kiss. Gentle. Barely there.

It felt like your first kiss—right outside Jujutsu High. The day when you two finally became teachers, you two also confessed to one another. The sun had been warm, and despite being adults, you’d giggled like kids.

You pulled away, lips stained in his blood, and studied his face. Your love had always been complicated. Messy. Raw. But he never doubted you. You never doubted him.

Unspoken, but always understood.

You were already thinking back.

Your first mission.

Your first kiss.

Your first time.

Your first date.

Your first everything.

You remembered the quiet talks about a future. About family. About souvenirs from the missions he will have outside of the country as a makeup. Sharing strawberry cake after midnight when you two had cravings. Making Kikufuku—his favorite—and making a disaster of your kitchen.

And then came the regret.

Not the big things.

The little ones.

Regretting the times you scolded him over trivial things.

Regretting not buying that stupid cake he nagged you about all day.

Regretting the times you said, “Not today,” when he wanted to hang out.

Regretting not savoring every single second—even though you thought you had. Because it’s always the littlest things that stay with you when you’re losing someone. The things you thought you’d always have. But you weren’t the only one with regrets.

His?

He didn’t do enough.

He worries—despite all his strength—that nothing truly changed. That the higher-ups will keep failing the next generation. That more students will die too soon. That the cycle will never end.

He should’ve done more.

He could’ve done more.

He didn’t even want to believe he was really here, bleeding out and thinking about his regrets. He wanted to laugh at himself for even thinking that way, but he couldn’t run away from it. Not anymore.

He was getting weaker. Silently he was telling himself this was really it. Fighting the urge to stay awake, his time was coming to an end. Even with death, he hadn’t felt this peaceful since the day he was born. Being the only time in his life that he was ever at peace.

The last thing Satoru feels before he closes his eyes is your kiss. And despite the pain, despite the blood and the agony— that moment where his body become unfamiliar to the feeling of comfort and relaxation—

He savors it.

He savors you.

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note. this is my first time publishing on tumblr! i’ve been using my notes app as a journal and thought a small wip could be shared :). thank u xo