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gojo satoru is no stranger to physical affection. he is both a giver and a reciever. yuuji hugs him, megumi swats at his head or shoves him away, and nobara nudges his shoulder. they pose no threat to him — even on satoru’s worst day, he could defeat them. he can turn off his infinity for them.
he’s the strongest. there are very few things that genuinely pose a threat to him.
so why does he tense when your arms wrap around his waist from behind? why does his shoulders hunch, why does his hand fly to his chest, why does his control on his infinity almost slip?
why does he almost push you away?
the memories are vivid in his mind, almost as if he’s back at the entrance of jujutsu high again. sleep-deprived, but relieved the mission is complete. grinning and laughing with riko and suguru, right until the cold, sharpness of a blade pierces his back and then his chest.
when you feel satoru tense, you pull away, brows furrowing and a frown tugging at your lips. “satoru? hey, are you okay?”
it takes him a blink to realize that 2006 is long since over and that nothing is amiss. that you’re here, not that black-haired douche that somehow manages to be a constant in satoru’s life even after his death.
like always, satoru chuckles, low and smooth. but you can hear the strain, the lingering relief in it. “damn. caught me off guard, huh?”
his hand drops from his chest and closes the cabinet with his elbow before he turns to face you, cerulean eyes twinkling as he grins down at you. that’s forced too, and you sigh. something’s wrong, and it doesn’t take you but half a second to deduce that.
“don’t do that,” you say, and your voice is so tender, almost motherly despite how you’re kind of reprimanding him. the smallest portion of satoru’s heart thaws, and he lets the grin fall from his face. it’s now a small somber smile, the slightest curve of his pink lips. who is he to deny you what you want?
that doesn’t mean he won’t play dumb. “do what?” he asks and leans forward, burying his face in your curls. the scent of shea butter and vanilla fills his nostrils, and it’s yet another reminder that he’s here with you, that he’s safe with you.
“i’m not slow, satoru.” you cross your arms over your chest and narrow your eyes at him. you won’t drop the topic, and while your stubbornness is something satoru absolutely adores about you, he nearly wishes you were a little weaker-willed right about now.
“i know,” he whispers before his voice goes back to its typical playful perkiness. “wouldn’t be dating you if you were, baby.”
satoru’s lanky yet muscular arms wrap around your waist, hands resting on the curve of your ass, and he smirks. “you should let me use your shampoo for once, y’know. your hair smells good.”
“it’s not gonna work on your hair, dude.” his embrace is your weakness, and your body melts in his arms, along with your resolve to figure out what’s bothering him. “plus, the shampoo you use works just fine, and smells just as good,” you add, your glare becoming more playful.
“nah, it’s not the same,” satoru counters with a squeeze, and you promptly swat his hand away. which leads to him squeezing again, and somehow you two become a tangle of limbs on the floor as he tickles your sides, pale, slender fingers leaving featherlight touches on your skin, and breathless laughs and pleas falling from your gorgeous lips.
that may have distracted you, but it certainly hasn’t distracted him.
satoru hates dwelling on things for too long. it’s a waste of energy, and if it’s something he can’t fix, well, why even try? long after you’ve fallen asleep on his chest, snoring gently as the silk from your bonnet tickles his skin, he’s still thinking about why he reacted like that.
and then it dawns on him. the realization isn’t like a piano falling from the sky, but more like a feather that explodes on impact.
you’re a threat.
not in the conventional way. of course, even in a fight without cursed energy, you'd be on the ground in a blink. however…
if you suddenly plunged a blade into his neck, satoru would hesitate. it could be for a millisecond or two whole seconds, but he’d hesitate. hesitation is a dangerous thing. a second of indecision could cost someone’s life, could cost them everything they ever had and will have. he knows this — he’s experienced this first-hand. it’ll always lead to problems.
despite that, he’d still hesitate. he might just let you kill him, honestly, if it means he doesn’t have to lay a hand on you.
you’re precious to him. so very, very precious. more valuable than the six-eyes, more valuable than his infinity, more valuable than his reversed curse technique. it’s what makes him the strongest, what makes him him. but does being the strongest even matter if you’re not around for him to protect?
“ah.” a soft exhale, and in the darkness of the bedroom, satoru’s lips curve into a grin.
that’s why.
you could betray him, and he’d still love you. you could rip his heart from his chest, run it over with a semi-truck, bash it with a sledgehammer, and chop it up into twenty pieces, and he’d love you with everything else he has.
satoru will never, ever stop loving you, even if the consequence for doing so is death.