obsession 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 gojo satoru x reader
minors do not interact. this piece is intended for 18+ audiences.
I unlocked my apartment door with my headphones still in, barely noticing how the wind pushed harder than usual against my back — like someone else was walking behind me. Still, I didn’t check. Just kicked off my shoes, tossed my keys in the bowl, and pulled my hoodie off over my head.
My little one-bedroom was quiet. Cozy. Just the way I liked it.
Showered with my favorite vanilla scrub, wrapped up in a big, fluffy towel, and fell into bed with my phone in one hand and the other scrolling through random posts I’d already seen a hundred times.
But the feeling didn’t leave.
It had started a few nights ago — flickering lights, unlocked windows I swore I had shut, and the sound of creaking boards when I was dead still. I chalked it up to nerves. Maybe stress. Maybe ghosts.
It was a man with white hair, standing in the corner of my room.
“I was starting to think you’d never look up,” he said softly, head tilted like I was a puzzle he already knew how to solve.
“What… what the fuck—” I backed up on the bed, reaching for my phone, but it was too late.
Big hands wrapped gently around my wrists, not hard enough to hurt — but strong enough to pin me.
“Don’t scream,” he murmured. “I won’t hurt you. I promise. I’d never hurt you.”
He smelled like clean soap and cologne. His voice was warm. Deep. Familiar.
“I’m not gonna lie to you,” he whispered. “I’ve been watching you for a while now.”
My breath caught in my throat.
“I know what that sounds like,” he added, eyes flicking between mine. “But I’m not here to scare you. I’m here to make you feel.”
I blinked, trying to gather myself, and he took advantage of it. Climbing on top of me — slow, almost reverent — like this was his rite.
“I think about you every night,” he whispered, mouth ghosting over my jaw. “You looked up at me once. Remember? On that rainy Tuesday. You were wearing that little green hoodie, and I knew. I knew.”
Because even as my brain screamed at me to fight, to run, my body…
My body was betraying me.
My breath hitched when his mouth grazed my throat.
My thighs clenched when his hands slid under the hem of my towel.
“You’re scared,” he said, “but you’re wet.”
“Shhh,” he soothed, kissing just below my ear. “Let me take care of you.”
Even though I knew it was wrong… even though I should’ve pushed him away…
I gave in. I let it happen. I wanted it.
He started with his hands. Calloused and big, he cupped my thighs, spreading them gently — not to humiliate me, but to worship.
“Pretty little pussy,” he whispered. “You’ve been aching for someone to really see you, huh?”
His tongue licked a slow stripe up my cunt and I sobbed — because he was good. Devastatingly good. He sucked on my clit like it belonged to him. Like he’d practiced. Like he’d dreamed about this moment night after night and had already memorized what I liked before I even knew myself.
My back arched against the sheets, heat blooming from the center of me like a slow-burning fire. “F-Fuck,” I breathed, my voice catching somewhere between a whimper and a gasp.
He didn’t say anything at first — just looked up from between my thighs with that lazy, wrecked smile of his, lips slick, breath warm. His eyes were hooded and heavy, the glow of the moon casting a silver outline across his jaw as he whispered, “Go on, baby…”
His voice dropped, low and coaxing.
“…Let it out. You’re mine now.”
My pulse throbbed in my ears. My thoughts were soft and scattered, like falling petals, too slow to catch, too fast to hold. I writhed beneath his hold, trying to pull back — not to leave, just to breathe — but his arms wrapped around my thighs with a quiet strength that kept me grounded. That kept me his.
I swallowed hard, shaking my head, trying to hold on to something — pride, maybe, or just a thread of control — but it slipped.
His mouth moved with a devotion that made it impossible to resist. Each kiss, each soft stroke of his tongue was so focused, so knowing, that I nearly came undone just from the sound of his breath syncing with mine.
“Gonna pretend you don’t love this?” he murmured between slow, teasing passes, smiling into me like he already knew the answer. “You always act like such a brat... but right now? You’re so sweet for me.”
My hand shot down on instinct — not to stop him, not really — just to feel. To confirm he was real. That this was real.
“Stay with me,” he whispered. “Right here.”
I stayed, even as the tension inside me wound tight like a thread about to snap. Even as the stars blurred behind my eyes. Even as my voice gave out and my fingers curled into the sheets with a soft, aching cry.
He kissed the inside of my thigh once — slow and grounding — as I came down, heart stammering in my chest like it had nowhere else to go but him.
I blinked up at the ceiling, breath caught somewhere between relief and disbelief. My skin was still tingling, my pulse still thudding like a drumbeat between my legs. I didn’t even realize I was trembling until his hand curled softly around my knee, holding me open like I was something sacred.
I was too drunk on it to care that I didn’t even know his name.
But the thought lingered — hazy, lingering on my tongue like the taste of him.
“…Who,” I whispered, the question barely forming, “who are you?”
He looked up at me from between my legs, mouth slick with me, hair a mess of snowy strands falling into his eyes.
Not sweet. Not soft. But something wild. Like the ocean pulling back before a wave.
“Gojo Satoru,” he said, licking his lips with a casual, devastating confidence. “You don’t need to remember it, baby.”
His thumb stroked the inside of my thigh, just barely grazing the spot that still ached for him.
“You’ll be moaning it in a minute anyway.”
He kissed me full on the mouth, making me taste myself on his tongue, then tugged his shirt over his head and shoved his pants down just enough to free his cock.
It was thick. Flushed. Veiny.
I barely had time to breathe before he was pressing it against me, hot and heavy.
“No condom?” I breathed, mind already fogged and body trembling.
Gojo leaned in, lips ghosting the shell of my ear as he rutted his hips just enough to make me whimper.
“Don’t need one,” he murmured, voice low and sinful.
“You’re mine… or did you forget already?”
Then he slid his entire length in.
I screamed into his neck.
Because nothing — nothing — had ever felt like this.
He bottomed out in one stroke, bullying my walls open with a force that felt more claiming than cruel.
“That’s it, baby,” he grunted, “take it. Take all of me.”
His hips snapped against mine, hands gripping my wrists above my head, pinning me down like a predator.
“You like this, don’t you?” he sneered. “Your whole body’s begging for me.”
I nodded, fucked stupid already.
“You wanna be fucked by the man who’s been watching you sleep?”
He sped up, the bed creaking beneath us.
“You wanna be fucked by the man who’s killed to keep you safe?”
My whole body clenched — not from fear, but from the honesty.
Because deep down… it turned me on.
“That’s right,” he purred, noticing the way I squeezed around him. “You like that I’d do anything for you.”
His hand came up to my throat — not choking, just claiming.
“I’ll fuck a baby into you, sweetheart,” he groaned. “So no one ever questions who you belong to.”
I cried out again, arching off the bed.
“Tell me,” he gasped, nearing the edge. “Tell me who owns you.”
“You!” I sobbed. “You do—fuck, Satoru!”
He came inside with a snarl, hips jerking as he buried every drop in me, cock twitching deep, pressing against my womb.
We lay there after, tangled.
He kissed my temple. Then my cheek. Then the corner of my mouth.
“You’re mine,” he whispered again. “And I’m never leaving.”
Because somewhere deep in my chest…
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