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ryukatters · 5 months

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Seven (minus two) — s. gojo ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊

⟡ summary: five different ways satoru fucks you just right. inspired by jk’s “seven.” happy birthday you sexy sexy man

⟡ pairing: satoru gojo x fem!reader

⟡ content: smutty smut smut, semi public sex, he picks you up but cmon he’s the strongest for a reason, reader isn’t a sorcerer, oral (m&f receiving), body worship, degradation, gojo pulls reader’s hair, some dom/sub dynamics, refractory period is nonexistent, satoru is a slight exhibitionist and makes it everyone’s problem, omfg i just realized i made him a munch, gojo in handcuffs 😋 MINORS DNI

also i used one of @/jinsdumplingson’s prompts for scenario #3!

⟡ wc: 5k (LMFAO)

live laugh love gojo ✨

i. You love when I jump right in / All of me I’m offering / Show you what devotion is — (body worship + exhibitionism)

You consider yourself to be a nice girlfriend, you really do. You pamper your boyfriend, prepare him lunch, and even make the trip to hand deliver it to him at Jujutsu High. And yet—

“Satoru, don’t even think about it. Or I swear to god—”

“Swear what, baby?” Even with the blindfold on, there was no mistaking the predatory glint adorning the eyes behind it.

Satoru had wasted no time dragging you into a random classroom the minute he greeted you at the campus entrance. For all the things that Satoru Gojo possessed, restraint (especially when it came to you) wasn’t one of them. He didn’t even have enough self-control to at least try and make it to his office.

What he did have though, was the nerve to shove the both of you in a room where anyone could pass by. Where anyone could hear the downright degenerate activities Satoru was going to coerce you into.

And who was Satoru if not a fan of pushing the limits of how far he can get away with things?

Your boyfriend stalks towards you. His boots clack against the wooden floors, echoing against the walls of the empty classroom. You find yourself taking a step back for each one he steps forward. The divide between the two of you seems to get impossibly smaller.

A gasp tumbles past your lips as the back of your legs hit the edge of a desk. Satoru smiles, the same one he gives when he knows he has you where he wants you, that he’s won the little game of cat and mouse you two play when he gets like this; consumed by a searing hunger that gnaws at his very core, one that can only be satiated by getting his fill of you.

“Uh oh,” he gasps mockingly, giving you a faux look of surprise. “Looks like you’re done running.” Large hands wrap under your thighs before you’re being lifted up onto the wooden desk with ease. “And I’ve got you right where I want you.”

“‘toru,” you gasp, trying (and failing) to protest as a last ditch effort to save the both of you some propriety.

“Baby,” he murmurs, nipping at your jugular. “You look so beautiful, I just need to have you.”

“B-but, you have a meeting with Yaga right after—”

“Baby.” He deadpans, eyes boring straight into yours. “Frankly, I don’t give a fuck. And don’t say anyone else’s name when I’m about to go down on you.” He shuts down any and all protests by leaning down and capturing your lips with his. Calloused hands roam your body appreciatively, squeezing both of your tits and running his thumbs over the outline of your hardened nipples poking through the fabric of your top.

It’s not enough. He needs to feel you. Your clothes are in the way. Your head snaps down to look at your now exposed chest, mouth agape as you stare at your boyfriend whose eyes are filled with mirth.

“God, look at you.”

“Satoru, you just ripped my fucking shirt–”

“Shh,” he hums, easily covering your mouth with one hand to muffle any expletives thrown his way. “You’re worrying about the wrong things, princess,” his hand moves down to wrap around your throat, squeezing tighter and tighter until you let out a choked moan. Satoru lets out a satisfied hum. “For example,” his free hand slides down to reach under your waistband, index finger rubbing along your slit. “This soaked pussy. Don’t you think she deserves a little more attention, baby?”

He doesn’t wait for a response. “I think she does,” laughing you jolt from the harsh slap he gives your clit. “So are you going to let me give her what she deserves or are you going to keep being a brat?”

Your response dies on the tip of your tongue. You stare up at Satoru, eyes blown wide with lust. You shake your head.

“Use your words,” he demands. “Don’t keep disappointing me, princess. Taught you better than that.”

“I…” you start, feeling the way your cheeks burn in humiliation. Satoru stares at you expectantly. “Give me what I deserve, ‘toru. Please,” you whisper.

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “Good girl.”

Satoru litters a trail of kisses from your jaw down to your tits, mouth latching on to one as his hand squeezes the other lovingly. “I think you deserve everything and more, princess. So I’m going to give it to you.”

Satoru thanks his lucky stars that you decided to wear a skirt today. He runs his hands up and down your thighs appreciatively before flipping up the garment, revealing your panties that were surely stained with arousal. He presses a sweet kiss to your mound, sucking the fabric slightly. He thinks it’s such a waste for such sweetness to be lost to a flimsy piece of cloth. Nectar as sweet of yours deserves to be worshiped, and Satoru considers himself your most loyal devotee. He won’t allow any more to go to waste.

“Can’t believe you were keeping this soaked pussy from me,” he sighs. “’s not very nice of you, baby.”

You don’t get in so much of a peep before Satoru practically starts making out with your pussy. Satoru is gluttonous. He’ll take and take, especially if the dish on the table in question is you. He worships you with a fervor that could rival even the most pious of devotees. You manage to blow his mind every time.

“Fuck,” you hiss, gripping to the edge of the desk for support. “That feels so good, baby.”

“Yeah? You were fightin’ me so hard earlier but look at you now,” he coos, “so ready to be a good girl for me.”

Satoru flicks his tongue across your clit expertly before sucking on the sensitive nub. He feels his cock strain against the confines of his uniform pants as you trill beneath him. He knows you’re close based on the way your back is arching further and further off the desk. “You gonna cum, pretty?”

“Mhmm,” you slur. Your high comes crashing down on you in waves. You slap a hand against your mouth to muffle any and all sounds of pleasure as Satoru helps you ride out your orgasm. He pulls away when you start to pull away from overstimulation. The two of you don’t really have the luxury of teasing at the moment.

He’s nice enough to not let you beg for his cock. Satoru tends to have a sadistic streak and derives extreme pleasure in seeing you squirmy and embarrassed, begging for his mercy.

But he thinks he likes you like this too— soft whines and whimpers, a voiceless plea for more. Afraid of being heard by passerby’s. The more possessive part of him is rearing, manifesting itself through soft caresses and searing lovebites. His mind turns to putty knowing that he’s the only one to see you like this, hear you like this, feel you like this.

He slides in without much resistance. He muffles himself in between the juncture of your shoulder and neck, licking at the bite gingerly as a means of apologizing.

Satoru doesn’t have any restraint when it comes to you. But he tries his damn hardest not to plow into you the minute he’s inside you. He gives a few shallow thrusts before picking up the pace. He fucks into you with rough, calculated precision. Your back starts to feel raw against the fine oak but you can’t find it in you to care. Not when Satoru is giving it to you so good.

Satoru is overwhelmed by the desire to be impossibly closer to you, to meld the two of you into one. So he does. He picks you up with ease. You let out a slight yelp as you feel yourself in midair, wrapping your legs around his waist on instinct. He fucks you like that, strong arms under your thighs as he lifts you up and down his length like a cocksleeve.

“God, baby,” he moans, fingertips digging into the fat of your thighs. “Pussy’s pulling me in so tight. ‘s like you were made for me.”

“Satoru,” you whimper, “‘m gonna cum.”

“Yeah?” His pace doesn’t relent. He only drills into you harder, each thrust hitting that sweet spot inside of you. “Cum for me, sweet girl.”

You’re lucky to have enough wits in you to let out a soft cry instead of screaming out your boyfriend’s name. Satoru follows you soon after, riding out his own orgasm as he paints your walls white. He lays you back down on the desk before slumping over you, struggling to catch his breath. He gives you a quick peck before he slurs out, “You’re so perfect, you know that?”

Maybe you should bring him lunch more often.

ii. Leave you with that afterglow (light bondage)

Satoru forgets just how downright cruel you can be. How his sweet girlfriend also has a little sadistic side to her that enjoys seeing him squirm. Maybe it’s because you’re the only one capable of doing so.

He’s desperate to touch you, to hold you, to squeeze your body as you move on top of him. His hands twitch with need, but he’s stopped by two metal cuffs chaining him to the bed. Soft ivory wrists are marred by a slight red, evidence of his struggle.

“B-baby,” he whimpers. His voice sounds unfamiliar even to him. The words spilling past his lips foreign to his own ears, “Fuck— please. More, I need more.”

You’ve managed to reduce the strongest sorcerer into a blushing, blubbering mess.

Satoru doesn’t care that you’re making him go absolutely fucking stupid. He welcomes it, even. All he cares about is the way you’re swirling your hips, your sharp nails digging into either side of his neck, and whether or not you’ll spare him enough mercy to actually let him cum after being edged all evening.

His moans ascend higher and higher in pitch as the coil in his stomach winds tighter and tighter.

“God, just like that. Just like that,” he cries out.

“Are you going to cum for me, baby?” You ask sweetly.

Satoru thought he reached enlightenment some time ago. But that moment pales in comparison to how he feels right now. Each passing second with you feels like you’re guiding him closer and closer to Nirvana with no respite.

It’s not fair, Satoru thinks. It’s not fair that you know where he’s weak and for you to use that against him.

“Y-yeah,” he gasps as you reach down one hand, fingertips grazing against his perineum. “For you, ‘s always for you, baby. Please, please let me cum.”

You stare down at your boyfriend, entranced by the beads of sweat rolling down the sides of his hickey-stained neck and the way his flushed chest heaves. Satoru just looks downright pretty. Especially when he’s ruined.

“Cum for me, ‘toru,”

The tears that have been threatening to spill from his lash line all evening finally fall. He bucks his hips up to meet the way you bounce down on his cock. Satoru cries out your name as he fucks his load into you, ribbons and ribbons of cum painting your insides. Something inside Satoru breaks with the mind numbing orgasm you pull out of him. It’s replaced by something more carnal, more feral.

Any and all restraint he has all but flies out the window, easily breaking apart the metal links of the handcuffs binding him to your headboard. His hands fly to your hips, fingers digging into the plush fat with a grip that’ll surely leave bruises come the morning.

He’s honestly impressed he was able to hold out that long.

“A-ah, ‘toru wait–” you cry out.

“Nuh-uh. You’ve had your fun,” he tuts, manhandling you until you’re on all fours. “Now let me have mine.”

iii. Take your phone and put it in the camera roll

Satoru Gojo is a lot of things. Overzealous, irresponsible with practiced precision, extremely doting, loud, boisterous, and all the other epithets that barely begin to scratch the surface on the illustrious strongest sorcerer.

His very birth shook the entire country of Japan. His very existence is celebrated as the pinnacle of Jujutsu society. One would assume that the man would be the type to spend his special day in a fashion as grand as himself. He honors each and every one of his students and friends with such grandiose celebrations on their birthdays, so it’s safe to assume he’d hold the same standards for himself. Wrong. He’d much rather spend his day with you, in a much more intimate setting. A safe haven, of sorts, from the chaos and insanity that seems to follow him everywhere. He doesn’t get many days off, so being able to spend time with you is always a blessing no matter what day it is. So you can imagine the fit he threw when you told him to go grab dinner with his friends, and the even bigger fit he threw when he found out you wouldn’t be accompanying him.

With a promise that he’d get more than enough of his fill (of you) later on, you send your boyfriend off with a kiss on the lips that turns into a continuation of what you two have been up to all morning.

He arrives late to his own birthday party in true Gojo fashion.

While Satoru can appreciate the sentiment, he’d much rather be spending the night with you. Alone. In bed. Or on the kitchen counter. Or in the living room.

Although you took him out for brunch at this new restaurant with the fluffiest pancakes he’s ever had (he swears the sauce had crack in it), you told him his birthday wouldn’t be complete if he didn’t at least try and grab a few drinks with his friends. He wanted to argue that being able to spend the whole day with you would have made him feel satisfied, but he could never say no to you.

Which is exactly how he ends up at the local dive bar with some Tokyo and Kyoto peeps. Shoko will use any excuse to drink. So will Nanami, as long as it’s at Satoru’s expense (literally).

Today, 10:29 PM

baby

hey pretty boy u enjoying yourself? come home soon, okay? a little birdy told me your last present is waiting for you at home.

You

not much of a party if you’re not here to enjoy it with me, angel can i get a little hint? 🤪

baby?

baby

1 image delivered.

You

omw.

Satoru merely throws down a couple stacks (which is honestly more than enough to pay for everyone, but Gojo has no concept of how much things should cost) before hastily making his exit for the night.

He doesn’t even bother ordering an uber. Because why should he waste any more time away from his precious baby when he could just teleport home? So he does, straight into your bedroom. You scream out in surprise.

“Jesus fucking Christ Satoru—”

“You don’t get to use that tone with me, pretty girl,” he tuts, eyeing you hungrily, “especially when you’ve been hiding this from me.”

You needed to find a way to get Satoru away from you (which was a damn near impossible task most of the time) so you could figure out how to put on the whole ensemble.

The ‘this’ that Satoru was referring to was a dainty white lace lingerie set that leaves nothing to the imagination. What really takes the cake, however, is the giant baby blue ribbon nestled perfectly on the small of your back. You were wrapped up like his present. And Satoru thinks this is probably the best gift he’ll ever get in his life.

“On all fours, beautiful.”

You do as you’re told like a good girl. You really sell the show by arching your back, practically presenting yourself on a silver platter. Satoru feels his mouth water in anticipation.

“Look here, baby,” Satoru commands. So you do. You realize that he has his phone out, hearing the telltale shutter of his camera. “For keepsakes,” he grins cheekily.

He runs his hand along your backside appreciatively, stopping to squeeze your ass and spread you apart for his viewing pleasure. He thumbs at your puckered hole teasingly, letting out a mean laugh as you squeal.

He gives your pussy a few harsh slaps, fascinated by the strings of your arousal that collect on his fingertips. “That’s it, sweetheart. Look at you, barely even touched you and you’re already falling apart.”

“‘toru, don’t tease,” you whine.

“Is that how I taught you to ask for things?” He gives your ass a rough spank, squeezing at the stinging skin.

You shake your head in the negative, lips wobbling. God, you look so pathetic it drives him insane.

“Thought so. Tell me what you want, properly this time. And I might just give it to you.”

“Please fuck me, ‘toru.”

“You want my cock, baby?”

“Need it,” you whimper.

“Yeah?” he coos, bringing a hand to rub up and down your slit while the other works his lengths out of his slacks. “You gonna let me have my way with you? Do whatever I want with this pussy?”

You whine, nodding desperately. Satoru gives you a feral grin before leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. “Atta girl.”

“I’m going to fuck you so good that you won’t even be able to think about getting up tomorrow. Hope you’re ready, sweetheart. You’ve dug your own grave.”

iv. Come here, baby, let me swallow yo' pride (agoraphilia/exhibitionsism)

“Satoru—”

“Not my name.”

“‘toru, w-wait,” you gasp, trying to push your boyfriend off as he litters your neck with bruises that’ll certainly make themselves known in the morning. He easily takes both of your wrists with one hand and pins them above your head, pushing you flush against the back of the door. The same door, mind you, that’s separating the two of you from the rest of his fellow sorcerers at their annual end of the year celebration.

“Th-There are people outside this door—”

“Well, this isn’t about them, is it?”

Shameless. Absolutely shameless.

“C’mon baby,” he murmurs, pressing his hips against yours. “Just this once.” You know it’s never ‘just once’ with Satoru. You fear for the state of your dress and makeup (along with your dignity) if you give into him right now. “You know I’ll make it up to you later.”

“Your friends are in the other room. They’re going to hear us because you don’t know how to keep your stupid mouth shut.” You let out a choked moan as he slots one of his thighs in between your legs, providing some much needed friction for your aching center.

“That sounds like their problem, if I’m being honest.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously handsome? Persuasive? Oh baby, I know.”

“And an idiot.”

“I’m a genius.”

You roll your eyes with a sigh. “You better make this quick.”

Satoru releases your wrists, grinning as you run your hands up and down his chest before dropping down to your knees. You make quick work of his belt and pants, palming at his cock that’s already started leaking precum through his underwear. “That all depends on you, baby,” he murmurs. “It’s time to put that bratty mouth of yours to good use.”

He pushes his weepy tip past your lips with a soft groan. You lick at the slit just the way he likes and Satoru has to hold back a shudder.

“This is your fault, y’know,” he growls, hands finding purchase in the locks of your hair— which you worked very hard on, by the way. “You just look so pretty. It’s almost like you were asking for it.”

A pathetic whine escapes past your throat, muffled by Satoru’s cock. Satoru shudders from the vibrations.

“That’s it, baby. Fucking choke on it.” He lets out a broken moan as he feels your throat constrict around his cock. You just feel so good. “God, I’m gonna cum. You’re going to make me cum.”

His hands weave themselves through your hair even tighter, as if he’s trying to find something corporeal to anchor himself in the midst of this surreal storm of pleasure.

Your head bumps against the wooden door rhythmically in sync with how Satoru fucks your throat. It’d probably hurt if not for Satoru’s hands protecting the back of your head. If your friends weren’t sure what you two were doing before, they definitely knew now.

Satoru doesn’t feel the least bit ashamed that he finishes in record time, not when your tongue is pressed taut against the underside of his cock.

Your nails dig into the flesh of Satoru’s strong thighs, leaving indents against the freshly pleated satin of his dress slacks.

You’re struggling to take it all. He watches in fascination as a mix of his cum and your spit starts to dribble out of the corners of your mouth. He pulls out of you with a hint of hesitation, immediately missing your warmth while you try and catch your breath. Satoru wipes the cum threatening to drip off your chin with his thumb before pressing the digit against your tongue. It’d be such a waste for it to go anywhere else, after all.

“Swallow it.”

You stare up with him with a lustridden expression as you do what you’re told.

God, you were always so good for him. It’s enough to make him hard again. He intends to make good on his promise to make it up to you very soon. But not here.

He fixes the both of you up to make yourselves somewhat presentable before exuberantly announcing your guys’ departure in true Satoru fashion. You’re privy to the looks of disdain painted on Utahime and Nanami’s faces (mostly directed towards your boyfriend), but you can’t find it in yourself to care as Satoru slides an arm around your waist and pulls you against him.

“Let’s go home.”

v. Got you skippin' work and meetings (slight exhibitionism)

One perk about your job is the ability to work from home. No need to wake up early to get ready, sit in traffic, or deal with awkward and redundant watercooler chats with your older coworkers trying to relate to today’s generation. You have the luxury of working from your home office, with no one to pester you while you slave away at your computer.

Satoru bursts into the room with a cheerful, “Hi baby!”

Everyone except for Satoru, of course.

“Hi...” you whisper, not bothering to face your boyfriend. “I’m about to start my meeting, ‘Toru. I’ll come out once I’m done, ‘kay?”

If you were paying more attention, you’d hear the grumble and see the petulant pout that forms on Satoru’s face at your dismissal.

“Can I sit next to you, at least?”

You keep a chaise next to your workstation for when you want to plop down after a few hours of mind numbing work. Or for times when your extremely clingy boyfriend feels like bothering you while you’re on the clock.

“I’m not bothering you!” He had said once. “I’m keeping you company. Isn’t that nice of me?”

You side-eye him with a look that obviously says no, and Satoru pouts even harder.

But as always, Satoru finds a way to coerce you into getting what he wants. He’s pretty sure you said ‘no’ to him sitting on the chaise, but that doesn’t mean it’s a ‘no’ to him sitting in general, right?

He plops down on the floor under your workstation. He thanks himself for buying you one of those height adjustable desks.

You spare him a quick glance. He almost looks ridiculous with the way he’s hunched under you, cheek pressed against your knees as he hugs both of your legs, pouting.

There’s a joke you want to make about how your boyfriend is akin to an overgrown lap dog with how clingy he is. But you hold your tongue and decide to at least try and pay attention to your computer screen as you enter your debrief.

You can practically hear the pout that’s painted on Satoru’s face with your lack of attention. That just won’t do for him.

He’ll just give you a reason to pay attention to him. That’s fine. Satoru knows how to work for what he wants. And right now, he wants your thighs to suffocate him.

You try your best to focus on what your manager is saying, you really do, but whatever corporate jargon spewing past his lips is lost on you as Satoru moves underneath you, inching himself closer and closer to you while also subtly maneuvering your rolling chair until his face is just shy of being in between your legs.

You want to curse yourself for deciding to stay in your sleep shorts today. Satoru, on the other hand, feels like rejoicing in the fact— because now you’ve just made it so much easier for him. Accessible, even.

He pries your legs open, ignoring the way you try your best to keep them shut. He bullies his broad shoulders between them, preventing any further movement aside from spreading them even further. He examines the fading bruises and love bites littering your inner thighs from your previous sexcapades throughout the week. They’re looking a little too dull for his liking. Satoru decides you’re in desperate need of a touch up.

He pulls your shorts and panties to the side, revealing your glistening cunt. A mix of pride and lust swell within him to know that you’re always ready for him despite your efforts to convince him otherwise. Satoru’s mouth automatically waters in a Pavlovian response. He works his way up your plush thighs, savoring the warm, silky flesh on his tongue as he suckles deep bruises into them.

“Satoru,” you hiss, lacing your fingers through soft white locks before tugging on them harshly. You pull Satoru away from you, his lips leaving your inner thigh with a loud pop.

“Behave.”

You barely move your lips, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention to you on your coworkers’ screens.

It’s a warning if Satoru’s ever heard one. Unluckily for you, Satoru’s way too used to getting his way, brushing past warnings with an air of practiced defiance, paying no heed to any signals for him to concede. (“Signs can’t stop me because I can’t read!”)

Your words do nothing but go straight to his cock. That, coupled with the way you tug at his hair has a moan stumbling straight past his lips without warning.

You quickly glance at your screen and release a breath you didn’t even know you were holding upon confirming that you are indeed on mute. You don’t need your colleagues hearing your whore of a boyfriend moaning like a pornstar in the middle of your weekly recap meeting.

You quickly turn off your camera. They wouldn’t miss you for a few seconds, right?

“I thought I told you to behave.” The hand that was previously gripping Satoru’s hair clamps over his mouth. “Either you stay and be quiet or you leave.”

Cerulean orbs lock with yours before you feel something wet— a tongue, swipe along the inside of your palm. You draw your hand back with a curse, wiping off the saliva with your shirt.

“But babyyy,” he whines, wrapping his arms around your legs and resting his head on your thigh. He looks up at you with his best puppy eyes. You know Satoru well enough to recognize the lustful glint underneath the seemingly innocent gaze. “I haven’t seen you all day, s’not fair. I just miss you.”

“It’s been 4 hours, Satoru.”

“Even one second not being by your side feels like an eternity,” he laments. An overstatement, but Satoru holds every ounce of that statement true in his heart and soul. “I’ll make it quick, promise. Just need to have a little bit of you and I’ll leave you alone.”

Satoru isn’t a beggar. But he’ll be anything you need him to be, especially if it means getting a taste of you.

You both know he won’t leave you alone. The both of you also know that Satoru knows how to work his mouth and your body. He’s already bringing his lips to your clit before you can even nod.

“Good girl.”

Satoru makes out with your pussy sloppily, dragging his tongue along your clit and inside your fluttering hole. His eyes roll back into his skull as you weave your hands through his hair, tugging harshly. Satoru’s brain is practically fried as you squeeze your thighs on either side of his head. His cock throbs against the confines of his sweatpants, tip staining the gray fabric. He palms himself to provide some friction, imagining that it were your hands touching him instead.

“T-toru, I’m so close,” you cry. Satoru laughs meanly.

“Yeah?” he coos, long fingers working their way inside your dripping pussy. “You’re so sensitive. We just started and you wanna cum already?”

“Please.”

“Told you we’d be quick. Cum for me, princess.”

He doesn’t let up as you clench around his fingers. He fucks them into you even faster, making sure to hit that spongey little spot in you with each thrust. He sucks your clit until you’re shaking, refusing to let go even as you try to pull away.

Once he’s decided he’s tortured you enough, he pulls back ever so slightly, reveling in your debauched look. It would’ve been even better if you’d accidentally left your camera or microphone on, so everyone could know how good Satoru gives it to you. (He’s seen a few flirtatious messages from your coworkers via Slack.) Oh well, that’s just an opportunity for next time, he supposes.

He doesn’t bother leaving. To your surprise, (and Satoru’s delight) your team wraps up as soon as you turn your camera back on. A few beats pass by before he breaks the silence. “It’s technically your lunch break, right? How about we finish what we started?”

a/n: i need him in a way that is devastating to mankind. also satoru may be the king of quickies but don’t let that fool you into thinking he can’t go all night

Work belongs to @ryukatters. Please do not repost, translate, or recommend my works on TikTok.