OKAY LISTEN. Giving man's gojo a massage cause he's all tired and then it can go yaKNOW📈🎉
Requested |
Fluff |
High School Gojo x reader |
Warnings |None
You step into Gojo’s room, immediately noticing how tense he is. His usually relaxed demeanor is gone, replaced by a tightness in his shoulders and a slight furrow in his brow. He’s leaning over a pile of paperwork, glasses slightly askew, and you can’t help but smirk at the sight. It’s not often that you see the great Satoru Gojo so visibly stressed. He also hates paper and work. So this...was...quite the surpise.
“Rough day?” you ask, your voice laced with playful teasing as you saunter towards him. He barely glances up, offering only a grunt in response, clearly preoccupied with whatever’s on his mind.
“That bad, huh?” you continue, stepping behind his chair. Your hands move almost instinctively to his shoulders, fingertips lightly brushing against the fabric of his uniform. You feel the tension in his muscles, and it sends a thrill through you to know that you can unsettle him just a little, even if it’s only through the stress of his work.
“Let me help,” you say softly, leaning in close enough that your breath tickles the shell of his ear. Your voice drops an octave, a sultry note entering your tone. “I’m pretty good with my hands, you know.”
He finally looks up at you, and you catch the faintest flicker of surprise in his eyes before it’s quickly masked by his usual nonchalant smirk. “Oh? And what exactly do you think you’re going to do, huh?”
You grin, your fingers pressing more firmly into his shoulders, starting to knead the knots you can feel there. His breath hitches just slightly, and you know you’ve already won. “Just relax, Satoru,” you purr. “You’re too tense. Let me take care of you.”
He leans back a bit in his chair, letting out a long sigh. “You really think you can handle it?” His voice is teasing, but there’s a softness in it now, an almost unspoken gratitude.
“Please,” you laugh, “you’re not that much of a challenge.” You dig your thumbs into a particularly tight spot, earning a low groan from him. You can’t help but smirk at the sound—it’s not often you get to hear Gojo like this. Vulnerable.
“Careful,” he murmurs, voice half-lidded. “You might actually make me like you.”
You chuckle, leaning down so that your lips are dangerously close to his ear. “Who says you don’t already?”
There’s a brief silence where your words hang in the air, and you can feel the tension shifting into something else entirely. You continue working on his shoulders, fingers moving deftly, but there’s an unspoken anticipation now. The banter fades, replaced by the quiet sound of his breathing, steady but a bit faster than before.
You can feel his gaze on you, those blue eyes of his, and you let the moment stretch, enjoying the way he seems to be caught off guard. You know you’re playing with fire, but it’s too much fun to stop.
After a while, you notice his muscles beginning to relax under your touch. The stress is easing away, replaced by a different kind of tension, one that’s far more electrifying. You let your hands travel from his shoulders to the back of his neck, fingers grazing the base of his skull in a way that’s almost too intimate.
He closes his eyes, exhaling slowly, as if savoring the feeling. “You’re too good at this,” he mutters, voice barely above a whisper.
You smile, leaning down even closer, so your lips are almost brushing against his skin. “Maybe I just know you too well.”
The room grows quieter, the teasing banter long forgotten as something deeper starts to settle between you. You let your hands still on his neck, your touch now feather-light, and for a moment, neither of you say anything. You can feel the heat radiating from him, and there’s a magnetic pull that makes it hard to step away.
Instead, you stay close, tilting your head so that you can look into his eyes. He opens them slowly, and the moment your gazes lock, you feel your heart skip a beat. His eyes are intense, searching yours as if trying to figure out what you’re thinking.
You don’t give him the chance to speak, though. Instead, you let your lips curl into a soft smile, one that’s just for him. “You’re pretty,” you say quietly, almost as if it’s a secret meant only for him.
He blinks, clearly taken aback by the sudden compliment. “Pretty?” he repeats, the word sounding strange coming from his lips.
You nod, your smile widening slightly as you move your hand to his cheek, brushing your thumb across his skin. “Very pretty,” you whisper, your voice soft and sincere.
For a moment, he looks like he’s going to say something—maybe a witty comeback, maybe something to break the tension—but you don’t let him. Instead, you lean in and press your lips to his, a gentle, tender kiss that takes him by surprise.
He doesn’t move at first, caught off guard, but then you feel him relax into it, kissing you back with a sweetness that you hadn’t expected. It’s not the fiery, teasing energy you’re used to from him; it’s something softer, more vulnerable, and it makes your heart race.
When you finally pull back, you’re both a little breathless, and you can see the faintest hint of color in his cheeks. “You always know how to leave me speechless,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm.
You laugh softly, your thumb still caressing his cheek. “That’s because I like seeing you flustered,” you admit, leaning your forehead against his.
He chuckles, shaking his head slightly as he looks at you with a mix of amusement and something else, something deeper. “You’re trouble,” he says, but there’s no bite to his words.
You smile, brushing your lips against his once more. “But I’m your kind of trouble.”
Slowly, your hands make their way off his face and onto his shirt, slipping under the hem and onto his bare belly.
Gojo's breath hitches, his eyes closing as the warmth of your touch electrifies his body. His hands, still roaming, moved to rest on top of yours, interlocking fingers. A quiet hum escaped his lips, "Mmm, the sweetest kind..." Opening his eyes, he gazes at you intently before whispering, " I could just let you handle everything, and I'll enjoy the ride. Just tell me what you want, my beautiful (Y/n).”
"Toru...I want your shirt off, now.”
He smirks wordlessly, his fingers fumbling to undo the buttons of his shirt, the garment falling off to reveal his toned and muscular chest, covered in a thin layer of sweat. Gojo's breath catches, his eyes fixed on yours. Your fingers trail down his chest, skimming across his sculpted pecs, feeling the tension in the muscles below. You can see Gojo's heart racing in anticipation, his breath coming in short, panting bursts. You lean in, brushing your lips against the skin of his chest, the contact making him shiver. His infinity is off. A low growl escapes his throat, "(Y/n)...don't tease me too much, please. It’s unbearable." Your hands slide down further, your fingers tracing the curve of his abdomen, then dipping lower. You felt the heat emanating from his body, the air thick with desire. You place another lingering kiss on his abdomen, your fingertips lingering on his lower abdomen, daring to venture closer to the forbidden territory. With a sly grin, you press your hand flat against Gojo's belly, feeling the tension building beneath his skin. Your thumb grazes the waistband of his pants, teasing the edge as Gojo's breathing hitches. "Is that the massage you want to give me?" he asks, his voice laced with need. You nod, your fingers slipping beneath the waistband, feeling the heat and hardness that awaited. With a wicked smile, you reply, "It's only the beginning, Toru. But I want you to trust me and let me take care of you, just like I promised."
Your fingers work their magic, massaging Gojo's thighs, then sliding lower, tracing the lines of his body, before finding the warm, pulsating length within his pants. You can hear his breath catch in his throat as your hand moves with purpose, deftly stroking him through the fabric, your fingertips dancing along the sensitive underside. Gojo's eyes flutter shut, his body tensing as the pleasure builds, "(Y/n)...you're driving me mad," he pants, the words barely coherent. You smirk, knowing the effect you're having on him, "Relax, my love," you whisper, as your hand slips further under the pants, wrapping around his throbbing length. Your fingers stroke him firmly, your palm gliding over the rigid length, your thumb brushing the sensitive head. Gojo moans, his hips bucking instinctively into your hand, "Oh, god, you feel so good." You continue your rhythm, each stroke more deliberate, each flick of your thumb more enticing, drawing him further into the web of pleasure you've spun. As he reaches the brink, your touch becomes more fervent, urging him towards the edge.
Gojo's body tenses, his eyes clenched shut, a growl of satisfaction escaping his lips as he surrenders to the overwhelming pleasure. Your hand continues to move, milking the last shudders from his body, as he collapses against the bed, breath coming in gasps. "Don't worry, my love, let's take a break and regain some strength," you say tenderly, as you release Gojo from your dexterous grasp. You gently lean forward to wipe his sweat-slick skin with a soft towel from the desk before pulling the covers over the two of you. Gojo, still panting, reaches for you, his hand finding its way to your shoulder, "(N/n), thank you, you’re always taking care of me…" he murmurs, his voice hoarse. You lean in, placing a tender kiss on his forehead, "You make me feel the same, my sweet Gojo.” The two of you rest together, your hands intertwining, and as the heat of the day begins to wane, the sensual energy between you grows, the promise of more intimate moments to come. The road ahead of you won’t be easy, and death loomed, but you had him and he had you.