One Shot — Gojo Satoru x reader
Tags: Gojo x reader, smut 18+, clear consent, possesive, praises, 2 rounds, overstimulation, possesive, dom/sub concepts, fingering, foreplay, teasing
Minors Do not Interact 18+
The dim lights of the Jujutsu High training grounds flickered overhead as you caught your breath, the cold night air biting at your skin.
Satoru Gojo stood across from you, that insufferable grin stretched across his lips, blindfold pulled up to reveal those dangerously vivid blue eyes.
“You almost had me that time,” he said, voice a low purr. “Almost.”
You scoffed, brushing stray hair from your face. “You were holding back. I told you don’t hold back with me anymore”
His laugh rumbled in his chest, slow and deliberate. “Was I?”
In a flash, he closed the distance between you two, the air humming with cursed energy and tension alike. You stumbled back instinctively, but he caught you — hands firm on your hips, fingers digging just slightly into your skin.
“You need to learn to close the gap faster,” he whispered, breath fanning against your ear. “Or you’ll always be chasing.”
Your heart hammered in your chest. The way he looked at you — sharp, knowing, infuriating — made your skin burn hotter than any cursed technique ever could.
“Maybe,” you said, lifting your chin defiantly, “I like the chase.”
For a heartbeat, nothing moved between you.
Then his grin faltered — something darker, hungrier flickering behind his usually playful gaze. His thumb brushed a slow, deliberate line over the curve of your hip.
“And maybe,” he murmured, voice dropping, “I want to see what happens when you catch me.”
The tension snapped — electricity sparking — you took half a step forward, grabbing the front of his jacket and pulling him to you. His mouth met yours with a bruising force, all the teasing restraint he usually wielded gone in an instant. His hands roamed, bold and claiming, as he pressed you against the cool wall behind.
Gojo — usually untouchable, unshakable — was tangible now. Real. His kisses devoured, coaxed, demanded. His body pinned you effortlessly, yet he moved like he was worshipping every inch he touched.
When he finally broke away, both of you gasping, he rested his forehead against yours, a wicked smirk curving his lips.
“You caught me,” he whispered, voice wrecked and reverent.
“Now,” he breathed, lips tracing the shell of your ear, “what are you gonna do with me?”
His hands stayed firm on your hips. A possesive grip.
You shifted against him, palms flat against his chest, feeling the strong, lean muscle beneath his uniform. With a smug little smile, you shoved him — pushing him back just enough to slip free of the wall.
He let you, even took a step back, arms lifted in mock surrender.
“Feisty,” he drawled. “I like it when you pretend you’re the boss.”
You narrowed your eyes, refusing to rise to the bait. Instead, you grabbed him again, fingers twisting in the front of his jacket and yanking him into another kiss.
This time, you controlled the pace — slow, deep, purposeful — grinding your hips into his, making him grunt low in his throat.
He’s letting me, a voice whispered in your head. He’s—
You didn’t get the chance to finish the thought.
In a blink — less than a heartbeat — Gojo twisted his body, moving faster than your eyes could track.
Your back slammed against the wall again, hands pinned above your head in his iron grip. His body pressed into yours, the length of him unmistakably hard against your hip.
“Thought you were running the show?” he murmured, lips brushing your temple as he leaned in.
“You’re cute when you try.”
You struggled instinctively, but it was useless — he was immovable, effortlessly strong.
“Gojo—” you started, but he cut you off with a lazy kiss — soft at first, then deepening, pulling the air from your lungs.
When he pulled back, his grin was devastating.
“Say it,” he teased. “Say you need me.”
You glared at him, but the heat pooling low in your belly betrayed you.
He loosened one hand just enough to trail his fingers down your arm, across your collarbone, then down, down, until he was toying with the hem of your shirt — knuckles brushing bare skin.
“Come on,” he whispered, nipping lightly at your jaw. “You’re so close to getting what you want. Just gotta admit it.”
His fingers dipped higher, teasing the underside of your breast — maddeningly light — before retreating again.
You bit your lip hard, stubbornness and arousal warring inside you. But Gojo was patient — cocky and insufferable, but patient. He leaned back a little, just enough to meet your eyes with his own blazing blue ones.
“You’re strong,” he said, voice deceptively soft. “But with me?”
He squeezed your wrists tighter, just enough to make your breath hitch.
You cracked. “I need you,” you breathed, the words tumbling out.
The second they left your mouth, Gojo moved — claiming your mouth again with savage intensity, one hand sliding under your shirt fully now, palming your breast with rough, greedy hands.
He ground his hips into yours, making you moan against his lips. His free hand slid down to your thigh, hitching your leg up around his waist without even breaking rhythm.
“Good girl,” he growled against your mouth. “Now let’s see if you can keep up.”
Your back slammed harder against the wall as Gojo adjusted his grip, pinning you tighter, grinding his hips into yours in a slow, devastating roll.
The bulge pressing against you left no doubt how badly he wanted you — but he wasn’t going to just give it to you.
“Look at you,” he purred, dragging his mouth down your neck, teeth scraping along the sensitive skin. “Trying so hard to act tough when you’re dripping for me.”
You gasped when his hand slipped between your thighs, bold and shameless, cupping your heat through your clothes.
“Fuck,” he groaned, fingers pressing in a slow circle over your aching center. “You’re soaked already? Just from a little roughhousing? Should’ve known you were that easy for me.”
You whimpered, instinctively grinding down against his hand, chasing friction.
He laughed — low, mocking — and withdrew just enough to make you curse under your breath.
“Pathetic,” he murmured against your throat, licking a slow stripe up to your ear. “You need me that bad, baby?”
His words made your cheeks burn, your body tremble, but you couldn’t stop — couldn’t care. You nodded desperately.
“Say it,” he demanded again, voice rough and merciless. His hand slipped under your shorts this time, fingers sliding through your wetness with devastating ease.
You wanted to protest, to tell him to shut up and fuck you — but the second his thumb brushed your clit, white-hot pleasure shot through you like lightning.
“Please,” you gasped, hips jerking. “Satoru — please — need you—”
He chuckled darkly. “That’s my girl.”
Without warning, he plunged two fingers inside you — rough, deep, curling them immediately to find that devastating spot. You cried out, head slamming back against the wall, legs trembling around his waist.
“Fuck, listen to you,” he crooned, voice thick with heat. “So loud. Gonna wake up the whole damn school.”
He thrust his fingers harder, faster, grinning wickedly when your body writhed against him, helpless. His mouth found yours again, bruising and wild, swallowing every moan you made as he worked you open on his hand.
“You gonna cum just from my fingers?” he whispered against your lips. “Or do you wanna be a good little slut and wait for my cock?”
You whimpered, the words pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
But Gojo wasn’t done playing yet.
He pulled his fingers out just as you were about to break, smirking when you whimpered pathetically at the loss.
“Aww, poor thing,” he cooed mockingly, holding his glistening fingers up to your mouth.
Dazed and desperate, you obeyed — and he shoved his fingers past your lips, making you taste yourself as he watched with half-lidded, feral eyes.
“God, you’re filthy,” he groaned, hips grinding into yours again. “Bet you’d let me do anything to you right now.”
You whimpered around his fingers, the needy sound shooting straight through him.
Finally — finally — he let go of your wrists, just long enough to tug his cock free from his pants.
Thick, flushed, leaking — he was huge, and he knew it.
“Think you can take it?” he teased, rubbing the blunt head along your soaked folds.
“Or are you gonna cry for me?”
You barely managed a nod before he sheathed himself inside you with a brutal thrust — burying himself to the hilt in one devastating motion.
The stretch burned, tore a sob from your lips — but it was perfect, and he knew it.
“Fuck yes,” he snarled, snapping his hips again, setting a brutal, punishing rhythm right from the start.
“This is what you needed, huh? To get fucked dumb by someone who knows exactly what to do with you?”
Every word was punctuated by another thrust — deeper, harder, faster — until all you could do was cling to him and sob broken little moans into his shoulder.
“You feel that?” he growled, grinding deep, making you feel every inch of him.
“Feel me wrecking you from the inside?”
You nodded frantically, stars bursting behind your eyes as pleasure coiled hotter and hotter in your gut.
“Go ahead, baby,” he purred. “Cum for me. Make it messy.”
You shattered — screaming his name as your orgasm ripped through you, clenching around him so tight it made him groan low and dangerous in your ear.
He kept thrusting through your climax, dragging out every aftershock, every twitch and gasp, until you were a trembling, babbling mess in his arms.
“One’s not enough,” he said roughly, hauling you tighter against him. “Gonna fuck you again. And again. Till you can’t even say my name.”
He grinned wickedly against your throat, voice a low, filthy promise:
Your body barely had time to recover — trembling, oversensitive — before Gojo shifted his grip again, manhandling you like you weighed nothing.
“Not done,” he growled, pulling out of you with a filthy wet sound, only to slam back in without warning.
You cried out, nails digging into his shoulders, but he just laughed — low and breathless — loving every second of your wrecked state.
“Already falling apart on me,” he said mockingly, voice thick with smug satisfaction. “And here I thought you wanted to keep up?”
He slammed into you again, harder this time — making your head spin, making your thighs shake with the force of it.
“Come on, baby,” he crooned. “You were so mouthy earlier. What happened to all that attitude?”
He leaned in close, pressing his forehead to yours, grinning wildly as he drove into you at a brutal pace.
“Need me to fuck the words back into you?”
You tried to answer — some broken sob of a sound — but he didn’t give you the chance.
One of his hands slid down between your bodies, fingers rough and ruthless on your overstimulated clit.
“That’s it,” he murmured darkly. “Make those pretty noises for me.”
You keened, body helplessly arching into him, another orgasm threatening to crash over you — too fast, too much.
Gojo felt it — of course he did — and he relished it.
“Greedy little thing,” he teased. “Can’t even handle one cock properly without falling to pieces.”
His thrusts got sloppier, harder, each one punching breathless cries from your throat. His hand never let up, dragging you right to the edge again, merciless.
“You gonna cum again, baby?” he asked, all mocking sweetness.
“Gonna cream all over my cock like a good girl?”
The words shattered what little control you had left — your second orgasm slamming into you, even harder than the first, muscles locking, pleasure tearing through you until you sobbed his name over and over like a prayer.
Gojo groaned, low and feral, feeling you tighten around him.
“Fuck,” he cursed, voice breaking. “That’s it. That’s my fucking girl.”
He thrust through your climax with ruthless precision, chasing his own end now — grinding deep, hitting that perfect spot again and again until he buried himself to the hilt, growling against your throat as he came hard inside you, cock twitching, warmth flooding you in hot, deep pulses.
For a long moment, the only sounds were your gasping breaths, the obscene wet noises of your bodies pressed together, the rapid pounding of both your hearts.
Then Gojo finally pulled back, just enough to look down at you.
You were wrecked — flushed, tear-streaked, trembling — and he drank it all in with a savage kind of pride.
“You did good,” he murmured, voice rough but genuine now.
“Handled me better than I thought you would.”
He pressed a slow, almost tender kiss to your forehead — shocking in its sweetness after the way he’d just ruined you.
“Guess I’ll have to keep testing you. See how much more you can take.”
You whimpered weakly, and he chuckled — warm and wrecked, satisfied.
You barely registered the words before his arms slid around you again.
“Better get used to it,” he added lazily, voice right at your ear. “Cause next time…”
He nipped your earlobe lightly, making you shiver even half-unconscious.
“…I’m not letting you walk away without screaming my name even louder.”
