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INSTINCT-RIDDEN ⟢ GOJO SATORU

╭┈─ Pairing ⺌ ፧ Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

╰╮⺌ Synopsis: As a teacher at Tokyo Jujutsu High you’ve built a life among curses, students, and the chaos of Gojo Satoru’s presence. Your bond with him has always been a balance of teasing banter and unspoken feelings, but as tensions rise in the world of jujutsu sorcery, the lines between duty, friendship, and something deeper begin to blur.

─── ⌕𓈒 Genre , Word count: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, 3.2k.

Tokyo Jujustu High wasn’t quiet. It never was. But as the sun dipped low, steadily casting amber streaks across the sky, there was a rare stillness in the air, a brief quiet before the storm. You had just finished your lesson with the second-years, a session full of curses, strategy drills, and no shortage of snarky remarks from Maki.

Sweat clung to your skin as you leaned against the training hall’s doorway, sipping water from your bottle. The heat of summer, though mild compared to the usual sweltering streets, seemed to cling stubbornly to the mountains. Your cursed technique, one of illusions and improved reflexes, left your body in a perpetual state of tension after prolonged use. Even after years of practice, the strain was still there.

“Still showing off to the kids, huh?”

The familiar voice pulled you from your thoughts. Without turning around, you recognized the lazy, self-satisfied drawl of Satoru Gojo. He leaned casually against the frame of the doorway, his blindfold pushed slightly up to reveal an amused smirk and a faint glint in his crystalline blue eyes.

You raised your eyebrows, wiping your forehead with a towel. “Unlike you, some of us actually teach during our lessons.”

“Oh, is that what you call it? From what I saw, it looked more like showing off,” he teased, sauntering closer. “Very flashy, by the way. The illusion you created during Maki’s sparring round? Chef’s kiss. Delectable, even.” He punctuated his words with an exaggerated hand gesture.

“It’s called effective teaching, Gojo,” you said, turning to face him. “But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you? You’re too busy ‘improvising’ during your lessons.”

“Hey now, I’m great with the kids,” he shot back, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara adore me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Megumi tolerates you. Yuji’s too nice to say anything. And Nobara? She’d probably bury you alive if given the chance.”

Gojo let out a laugh, the sound light and unbothered. “What can I say? I’m an acquired taste.”

“More like a bitter one,” you muttered under your breath, but the corner of your lips twitched upward despite yourself.

“Oh, come on,” he said, stepping even closer, his tone dropping just slightly. “You love having me around.”

“Is that right?” you asked, crossing your arms as you met his gaze head-on. The air between you seemed to shift, the playful banter giving way to something heavier.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The distant chatter of students and the rustling of leaves filled the space, but it all felt muted, as if the world had shrunk to just the two of you. Gojo’s smirk softened, his gaze lingering on you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Yeah,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “I think you do.”

Your breath caught, the weight of his words settling between you. But before you could respond, a loud crash echoed from the other end of the training hall, followed by a string of colorful curses from Panda. The spell was broken, and you stepped back, clearing your throat.

“Sounds like your kids need you,” you said, gesturing toward the noise.

Gojo tilted his head, his smirk returning. “Nice deflection. But fine, I’ll let you off the hook. For now.”

With a wink, he turned and strolled away, his hands in his pockets as if he didn’t have a care in the world. You watched him go, your pulse still racing.

Damn him and his stupid charm.

Later that evening, the campus had settled into a peaceful quiet, save for the occasional murmurs and laughter from the dormitories. You found yourself in the courtyard, seated on a low stone bench beneath a canopy of wisteria. A book rested in your lap, though you hadn’t turned a page in over ten minutes.

“Not like you to space out.”

Once again, Gojo’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. You looked up to find him standing a few feet away. He carried two cups of something steaming, which he offered.

“Tea,” he said. “Not poisoned, I promise.”

You took the cup cautiously, the warmth seeping into your hands. “What’s the occasion?”

He shrugged, sitting down beside you—albeit closer than necessary. “Do I need an occasion to be nice?”

You shot him a look. “I would say yes. Yes, you do.”

He laughed, a soft, genuine sound that caught you off guard. For a while, the two of you sat in companionable silence, the distant chirping of crickets filling the gaps. It was… nice. Unexpectedly so.

They stood there for a moment, the air between them heavy with unspoken words. The wisteria swayed gently above, the soft purple hues illuminated by the dim glow of lantern light. Gojo tilted his head slightly, as if studying her, though the blindfold made it impossible to tell where his gaze truly rested.

“You know,” he began, his tone lighter now, teasing even, “most people would be flattered to spend time with me. You, though? You act like it’s some kind of chore.”

“Maybe because it is,” Y/N shot back with a smirk, crossing her arms. “If you’re looking for gratitude, you’re barking up the wrong tree, Gojo.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and almost disarming. “It’s refreshing, really. Most people can’t seem to see past how amazing I am.”

“Hmm,” she hummed skeptically while sipping tea, though her lips twitched into something resembling a smile. “Maybe it’s because I know your tricks.”

“Tricks?” he echoed, mock-offended. “Y/N, please. You make it sound like I’m not a dream”

“More like an oversized teenager with bad jokes.”

Gojo grinned, leaning slightly closer. “Admit it. You’d miss me if I were gone.”

The sudden shift in tone made her pause.

Gojo… gone?

There was something beneath his playful words—something that hinted at a vulnerability he rarely showed. She opened her mouth to respond, but he straightened, as if sensing the tension he’d created and deciding to brush it off.

Before she could reply, his phone buzzed in his pocket, cutting through the quiet. He sighed dramatically as he fished it out and glanced at the screen. “Ah, duty calls,” he said, his tone flippant, though there was a flicker of something more serious in his expression. “Looks like I have to play the hero somewhere else tonight.”

Y/N raised a brow, unimpressed. “Don’t let me stop you.”

“Careful,” he teased, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “You might miss me too much.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a warmth in her chest she wasn’t willing to acknowledge. “Goodnight, Gojo.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said, his voice softening just slightly as he turned away.

As he walked off, the scent of wisteria lingered in the air, mingling with the faint trace of his cursed energy. She stood there for a moment longer, watching him disappear into the shadows before letting out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

Her heart was still racing.

You stood in the courtyard, watching Megumi Fushiguro spar with one of the second-years. His technique was improving, but there was a stiffness in his movements, a hesitance you couldn’t quite ignore.

“Megumi, stop for a second,” you called, stepping forward. The second-year dropped their stance gratefully, retreating to the shade of a nearby tree. Megumi, however, didn’t move—his gaze sharp and steady on you.

“Your stance is too rigid,” you said, motioning for him to approach. “It’s fine for defense, but it leaves you vulnerable in close combat. Try this instead.”

You demonstrated, shifting your weight slightly and holding your hands at a more flexible angle. Megumi mirrored you, his brow furrowing in concentration.

“Better,” you said, stepping back. “But don’t overthink it. Let it flow.”

“Easy for you to say,” Megumi muttered, wiping the sweat from his forehead. Despite his grumbling, there was a flicker of respect in his eyes—a rare concession from someone as guarded as him.

“You’ll get there,” you said, offering a small smile. “Just don’t let Gojo fill your head with nonsense.”

Megumi snorted at that, but before he could reply, a familiar voice cut through the courtyard.

“Talking about me behind my back, Y/N? I’m hurt.”

Gojo Satoru strode into view, his usual grin plastered across his face. He was dressed casually—white shirt untucked, blindfold pushed up to reveal those impossibly blue eyes. He looked every bit the world’s strongest sorcerer and every bit the man who knew it.

Oh how you disliked when men who knew their importance.

“Hardly behind your back,” you retorted, crossing your arms. “You’re impossible to ignore.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said, flashing a grin that was equal parts charming and infuriating. “Megumi, taking notes from the best, I see.”

Megumi rolled his eyes but didn’t respond, retreating to the sidelines with a muttered, “I’m done for today.”

As he left, Gojo turned his attention to you, his grin softening into something more genuine. “Teaching suits you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you insinuating I wasn’t useful in the field?”

“Not at all,” he said quickly, though there was a teasing tone to his voice. “But you’ve got a knack for this—mentoring, I mean. You’re good with them.”

“Someone has to be,” you replied, your tone lighter now. “Not everyone can survive on charm and theatrics alone.”

Gojo laughed at that, the sound echoing through the courtyard. It was disarming, really, how easily he could shift the mood, how effortlessly he could make you forget the weight you carried.

“Speaking of theatrics,” he said, leaning casually against the nearest tree, “there’s a mission tonight. Thought you might want in.”

You tilted your head, intrigued despite yourself. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he said, though his smirk suggested otherwise. “Just thought it might be nice to work together again. For old times’ sake.”

You hesitated. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him—not entirely, at least—but missions with Gojo had a tendency to spiral into chaos. Nevertheless, there was a spark of something, curiosity, maybe, or the lingering thrill of a challenge, a trait you could never truly lose—which made you nod.

“Fine,” you said. “But if this turns into one of your spectacles, I’m leaving you to deal with the mess.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, straightening up. “Meet me at the gates in an hour.”

The streets were a blur of neon and shadow as you followed Gojo through the narrow alleyways. The cursed energy in the air was thick, clinging to your skin like a second layer. You could feel the pull of it, the way it twisted and coiled, beckoning you to come closer.

“What are we dealing with?” you asked, voice low.

“A mid-grade curse,” Gojo replied, his tone almost bored. “Shouldn’t be too much trouble.”

“And you needed me for this because...?”

He glanced at you, his grin flashing in the dim light. “Because I missed you.”

You rolled your eyes, but the words lingered, settling in a place you couldn’t quite name.

The curse revealed itself in an abandoned warehouse on the edge of the city. It was grotesque—its form a writhing mass of limbs and faces, its presence warping the air around it. You and Gojo moved in a relaxed manner, years of experience making the dance of battle almost effortless.

Your cursed technique of illusions came in handy, disorienting the curse long enough for Gojo to strike the final blow. As the curse disintegrated, the air seemed to clear, the oppressive weight lifting.

“Not bad,” Gojo said, brushing nonexistent dust from his sleeves. “You’ve still got it.”

“Was there ever any doubt?” You replied, sheathing your weapon.

“Never,” he said, his tone softer now. “You’re one of the best.”

There was something about the edge of sincerity in his voice that caught you off guard. You met his gaze, and for a moment, the world seemed smaller, the city quieting down.

“Gojo—” you started, but he cut you off with a wave of his hand.

“Come on,” he said, his usual grin returning. “Let’s get out of here.”

The walk back to the school was quieter than you expected. Gojo walked beside you, his hands in his pockets, his usual chatter replaced by a thoughtful silence. You found yourself glancing at him, wondering what was going on behind those impossibly blue eyes.

“You’ve changed,” you said finally.

He looked at you, surprised. “Have I?”

“Yeah,” you said, smiling, your tone softer. “You’re... less obnoxious.”

He laughed at that, the sound was warm and genuine. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is,” you said, surprising even yourself.

The school gates came into view, but neither of you made a move to cross them. Instead, you found yourself slowing down, the weight of the atmosphere settling over you.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Do you ever think about leaving all this behind?”

You frowned, caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean?”

“I mean... this life. The danger, the responsibility. Don’t you ever wonder what it would be like to just... be?”

His words struck a chord you didn’t realize existed. You looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the cracks in his armor—the things he carried, the loneliness he tried so hard to hide.

“Sometimes,” you admitted. “But it’s not that simple.”

“No,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “It’s not.”

The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable. For the first time, you felt like you were seeing the real Gojo Satoru, not the strongest sorcerer, not the arrogant showman, but the man beneath it all.

“Thanks for tonight,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, the words you wanted to say caught in your throat. Instead, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes.

“Goodnight, Gojo,” you said, turning away before he could see the emotions flickering across your face.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he replied, his voice carrying a softness that lingered long after you were gone.

The quiet of the evening wrapped around the two of you as the faint sound of the city hummed in the background. Gojo’s hands rested in his pockets, his usual smirk playing on his lips, though there was something unspoken in the way he looked at you now. The air between you crackled with the tension that had been simmering all night.

“You know,” he said, breaking the silence, “you’ve got this way of pretending you’re indifferent to me. But I don’t think you are.”

You rolled your eyes, but the flush on your cheeks betrayed you. “And you have a way of overestimating your charm. Not everyone’s falling at your feet, Gojo.”

He stepped closer, the space between you shrinking. “Not everyone. Just you.”

Your breath hitched, but you refused to back down, meeting his gaze, or rather, the space where his eyes were hidden beneath his blindfold. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here we are.” His voice dipped lower, teasing but edged with something genuine. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

You didn’t. Instead, you tilted your chin up, closing the gap between you. His hand reached out, fingertips brushing against your cheek before he pulled you in. The kiss was slow at first, testing boundaries, but quickly deepened, as though all the unspoken words and tension had been building to this moment. He tasted like mint and something saccharine, something so intoxicating that it made your knees threaten to give out.

When you finally pulled away, his smirk returned, softer this time. “You’re full of surprises, Y/N.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you replied, your voice steadier than you felt.

“Too late.” He leaned in close again, his breath warm against your ear. “We could stay out here, or...”

The implication hung in the air, and you couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here we are,” he echoed, pulling you back toward him.

The next morning, the sun filtered through the windows of the Tokyo Jujutsu High staff room. You sat at your desk, attempting to grade papers while sipping coffee, though the distraction of the night before lingered in your thoughts. Across the room, Gojo leaned against the doorframe, his signature blindfold replaced with dark sunglasses. He seemed unnervingly casual, but the faint grin tugging at his lips betrayed him.

You didn’t look up as he spoke. “You’re awfully quiet today. No witty remarks? No banter?”

“I’m busy,” you replied, scribbling notes on a student’s assignment. “Some of us actually have work to do.”

“Busy, huh?” He strolled over, leaning down so his face was level with yours. “You didn’t seem too busy last night.”

Your pen froze midsentence, and you shot him a warning glare. “Not here, Gojo.”

Before he could respond, the door burst open, and Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara walked in, their voices filling the room.

“Good morning, sensei!” Yuji greeted cheerfully, waving at you.

“Morning,” you replied, forcing yourself to sound casual.

Megumi raised an eyebrow as his gaze flicked between you and Gojo. “Why are you two acting…weird?”

Nobara, always the sharp one, narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, you’re definitely acting weird. You’re way too quiet, Y/N-sensei, and Gojo-sensei looks…smugger than usual.”

“Smugger? Me?” Gojo placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “I’m always this charming.”

“You’re always this annoying,” Megumi muttered.

Yuji plopped onto the couch, grinning. “Wait, did something happen? Are we missing something?”

“Nothing happened,” you said quickly, ignoring the heat creeping up your neck. “Gojo’s just being Gojo.”

But Nobara wasn’t convinced. She crossed her arms, her gaze piercing. “Uh-huh. Sure. And why are you blushing?”

“I’m not blushing,” you lied, turning back to your papers.

Megumi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can we just focus on training? Some of us actually want to improve.”

“Training can wait,” Gojo said, his grin widening. “I think we should take a moment to appreciate how observant my students are. It’s impressive, really.”

You shot him a glare that could have frozen fire. “Gojo—”

Before you could finish, Nobara let out a gasp, her eyes widening in realization. “Wait a second. Did you two—”

“Don’t say it,” you interrupted, your voice firm.

But it was too late. Yuji’s jaw dropped, and Megumi looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

“Oh my god,” Nobara said, pointing between you and Gojo. “You totally did!”

“We didn’t—” you started, but Gojo cut you off.

“Y/N, it’s okay,” he said, his tone mockingly serious. “They’re old enough to handle the truth.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands as the students burst into a mix of laughter and groans. Nobara looked equal parts delighted and horrified, Yuji seemed more impressed than anything, and Megumi looked like he regretted every life choice that had led him to this moment.

Later, as the students filed out for their training session, you lingered by the doorway. Gojo stood beside you, his usual smirk firmly in place.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, glancing up at him.

“And yet, here we are,” he replied, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your temple. “See you later, Y/N.”

From down the hall, Nobara’s voice rang out. “I knew it!”

You sighed, shaking your head. “I’m never going to hear the end of this.”

Gojo just laughed, the sound warm and unguarded. “Probably not. But you love it.”

And, annoyingly, you couldn’t argue with that.

End note: Why did nobody tell me that writing a fan fiction would feel like going to war… traitors.

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