fic where: gojo and reader are good friends and coworkers at jujutsu high and go on a mission together
warnings: smut,p in v ,improper use of blindfold,slight overstim, soft dom gojo,aftercare
and obvi im back from vacay now so :P
The automatic double doors of the hospital didn’t open so much as they groaned, the rusted tracks protesting against the intrusion. Inside, the air was a thick, stagnant soup of formaldehyde, rot, and the unmistakable, greasy film of residual cursed energy.
You adjusted the cuffs of your dark Jujutsu High uniform, your thumb tracing the familiar metal buttons. Beside you, Satoru Gojo stepped over a shattered plastic waiting room chair with the casual grace of a cat strolling through a parlor. His white hair caught the dim light of the flickering fluorescent tubes overhead, and his black blindfold was securely in place. To anyone else, he looked entirely blind; to you, you knew he was seeing every micro-expression on your face, every twitch of your shoulders.
"A Grade 2 hotspot, they said," Gojo drawled, his voice echoing too loudly in the hollow lobby. "‘Just a routine sweep, Satoru. A few lingering spirits in the old maternity ward.’ They always leave out the part where the elevator shaft is literally dripping with fly-heads."
"Stop complaining," you said, drawing your cursed tool, a weighted, inscribed blade, from its sheath. "The faster we clear the lower levels, the faster we can go back to Tokyo and pretend we don’t have a stack of grading waiting on our desks."
Gojo let out a dramatic, theatrical sigh, tilting his head back. "Grading? You wound me. I was hoping we’d celebrate a successful mission with something much more scandalous. A nice dinner? A quiet drink? A mutual back rub in the staff lounge?"
"I am focused. Extremely focused. On you." He flashed a bright, white-toothed grin, his thumb hooking into his pocket.
Before you could retort, the ceiling groaned.
A swarm of low-level curses-grotesque, multi-eyed amalgams that resembled malformed infants and weeping faces, spilled from the air vents. They chirped and chattered, a chorus of fingernails on chalkboards.
Without a word, the two of you moved.
Years of working together as the primary instructors at Tokyo Jujutsu High meant there was no need for verbal coordination. You took the left flank, your blade cutting through the air with practiced, lethal precision. A curse lunged, all teeth and wet skin; you stepped inside its guard, severing its core with a clean diagonal slash. It dissolved into purple soot before it hit the linoleum.
To your right, Gojo didn't even bother raising his hands. He simply walked through the crowd. The sheer pressure of his Infinity kept the curses from touching a single thread of his clothes. When a particularly large, bulbous Grade 3 tried to drop on him from above, he merely raised a single index finger.
A localized vacuum flickered into existence for a fraction of a second. The space imploded, crushing a dozen curses instantly into a neat, condensed sphere of non-existence before snapping shut. The shockwave rattled the glass cabinets lining the hallway, sending a shower of medicine vials crashing to the floor.
"Show-off," you muttered, ducking under a stray claw and taking its owner's head off at the neck.
"You love it," Gojo replied smoothly, appearing instantly at your side to crush the skull of a curse that had crept up behind you. His palm didn't even touch the creature; the invisible barrier of his cursed technique did the work, leaving a crater in the drywall.
For the next forty minutes, it was a blur of systematic extermination. The hospital was a labyrinth of misery, each floor hosting dozens of minor curses born from the collective fear, grief, and sickness of the humans who had passed through its doors. It wasn't difficult work, neither of you were in any real danger, but it was physically exhausting. The sheer volume of spirits required constant motion, constant alertness, and the relentless expenditure of physical energy.
By the time you reached the fourth-floor administrative wing, the air had finally cleared. The heavy, oppressive weight of the curse user’s veil outside was still active, keeping the mundane world away, but the interior of the building felt hollowed out, dead.
You sheathed your blade, your shoulders dropping as a wave of profound fatigue hit you. Your uniform jacket felt heavy, damp with sweat, and your muscles throbbed with the dull ache of overexertion.
"I think that's the last of them," you breathed, wiping a streak of dust and dark residue from your cheek with the back of your hand.
"God, finally," Gojo groaned, his posture instantly collapsing into an exaggerated slouch. He looked around the dimly lit hallway, his blindfolded head turning until it locked onto a door marked Staff Break Room / Authorized Personnel Only. "Tell me that door leads to a couch, or I might actually die right here on this very ugly floor."
"You have Infinity, Satoru. You aren't going to die from walking up four flights of stairs."
"It's a spiritual exhaustion," he insisted, already turning the doorknob. Surprisingly, it clicked open. "An exhaustion of the soul. Come on."
The break room was small, smelling faintly of stale coffee grounds and old upholstery. A faded, faux-leather sofa sat against one wall, opposite a small laminate counter with a dead coffee maker and a tiny, outdated microwave. A single window looked out into the gray, veiled afternoon.
You practically fell onto the sofa, the vinyl hissing as it compressed beneath your weight. You threw your head back against the cushion, closing your eyes. Every muscle in your body felt like lead.
Gojo closed the door behind him, locking it with a sharp click that felt strangely deliberate in the quiet room. He walked over to the sofa, but instead of sitting on the opposite end, he loomed over you, leaning one hand against the backrest right above your head.
"Comfortable?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave, losing the bright, performative edge he used in front of the students.
You kept your eyes closed, breathing out a slow sigh. "If you're going to annoy me, do it quietly. I feel like I've been run over by a cursed corpse."
"Oh, come now. I was very gentle today. I barely used any heavy tech," he teased, his fingers lightly brushing against the top of your head, just barely touching your hair. The contact was electric despite your tiredness. "Though, if you want to talk about being run over, I can think of a few other positions that might leave you feeling that way. Much more enjoyable ones."
You opened one eye, glaring up at the black fabric obscuring his face. "Satoru. We are in a dilapidated hospital, covered in dust, after a three-hour extermination. Do you ever turn it off?"
"Turn what off? My undeniable charm? My profound appreciation for my gorgeous colleague?" He leaned closer, his chest almost brushing your shoulder. The scent of him, something clean, expensive, and distinctly him, completely untainted by the filth of the hospital, filled your senses. "Besides, you're the one who looks entirely delicious when you're tired. All flushed and out of breath. It's bad for my self-control."
"You don't have self-control," you pointed out, though your heart gave a distinct, heavy thud against your ribs. This was our dance. The constant, low-stakes friction that had been building between us for months, hidden behind professional boundaries and the chaotic demands of the jujutsu world. But here, isolated behind a locked door in a forgotten room, the boundaries felt incredibly thin.
He reached up, his long, pale fingers hooking under the edge of his blindfold. Slowly, deliberately, he pulled it up and over his head.
The weight of his gaze hit you like a physical force. Those eyes were an impossible, brilliant shade of sky blue, ringed with white light, tracking every tremor of your pupils, the exact rhythm of your pulse point at your throat. Without the blindfold, the raw intensity of his presence expanded, filling the small room until it felt like the air itself was charged with static.
"You look so tired," he murmured, his thumb coming down to gently trace the line of your jaw. His skin was warm, a stark contrast to his usual cool detachment. "But your heart is beating incredibly fast. Why is that?"
"Because you're encroaching on my personal space," you said, though your voice lacked any real conviction. Your hand rose, your fingers wrapping around his wrist. You didn't pull him away. If anything, you pulled him just a fraction of an inch closer.
Gojo let out a low, breathy laugh, his eyes darkening. "Then let me encroach a little more."
He shifted, his knee sliding onto the cushion between your thighs, pinning you gently to the back of the sofa. The sheer size of him, his long limbs, the broad line of his shoulders, completely overshadowed you. He leaned down, his breath warm against your lips before he finally closed the distance.
The kiss was slow, deliberate, and devastatingly soft. It wasn't the frantic, messy collision you might have expected from his usual chaotic energy; it was patient. His lips parted yours with a gentle, insistent pressure, his tongue tracing the seam of your mouth until you let out a soft sigh, opening up to him completely. He tasted faint, sweet, like the candy he always kept in his pockets, mixed with the clean heat of his skin.
Your fingers tangled into his stark white hair, gripping the soft strands as the exhaustion in your limbs began to transmute into something entirely different, a heavy, throbbing ache that pooled low in your belly.
When he broke the kiss, his lips traveled down to your jaw, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin right beneath your ear, making you gasp.
"I've been thinking about this all day," he murmured against your skin, his hands moving down to the buttons of your uniform jacket. His fingers were steady, unbuttoning the thick dark fabric with agonizing slowness. "Watching you move. Watching the way you swing that blade. You're so beautiful when you're focused, but I like you much better like this. Undone for me."
He peeled the jacket back, tossing it onto the floor, leaving you in your thin undershirt. His palms cupped your waist, his thumbs rubbing small, heavy circles through the fabric. The heat of him was intense. Even with his Infinity lowered to allow the touch, the sheer aura of his power felt like a warm weight pressing down on you.
"Let's get you out of these," he whispered, his eyes locked onto yours as his hands moved to the fastening of your trousers.
You helped him, your movements slightly clumsy from the sheer friction of the moment, until the heavy uniform pants were discarded along with his own. When he shifted to stand between your legs, unbuttoning his own trousers and pushing them down, the reality of his size became starkly apparent. Gojo was a tall man, built with long, lean muscle, and the thick, heavy length of him pressed against your thigh even through his boxers, making your breath catch.
He looked down at you, a soft, incredibly tender smile touching his lips. It was a look he rarely showed the world. Devoid of the arrogance, the god-complex, the walls he built to keep the rest of humanity at bay. Right now, he was just a man looking at the person he wanted more than his next breath.
"You're perfect," he said softly, his hand sliding up your thigh, his fingers gentle as they parted your legs wider.
He leaned down, his mouth finding yours again as his fingers slipped lower, finding the slick, aching heat between your thighs. You let out a muffled whimper against his lips as his long fingers began to stroke you, his thumb finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at the center of your desire and applying a steady, rhythmic pressure.
"Satoru, please," you gasped out when he pulled back, your hips instinctively rolling up against his hand, seeking more of the friction. The exhaustion had vanished, replaced by an overwhelming, desperate need to have him fill the void.
"Shh, take your time," he murmured, his voice a soothing, low rumble. He was being so deliberate, so incredibly soft with his dominance, guiding your body exactly where he wanted it while ensuring every touch was entirely focused on your pleasure. "We have all the time in the world. The veil is still up. No one can see us. No one can interrupt us."
He slipped a second finger inside you, his knuckles rubbing against your entrance as he stretched you open. The sensation was intense, a deep, full ache that made your toes curl into the vinyl of the sofa. He watched your face, his Six Eyes drinking in every micro-expression, reading the exact threshold of your pleasure and your tolerance.
"You're so tight," he whispered, his thumb moving faster, sending waves of heat crashing through your lower belly. "So wet for me already. Look at you."
You reached for his shoulders, your hands sliding up his smooth chest, wanting to pull him down, wanting the weight of him completely on top of you. But Gojo caught your wrists in his wide palms.
"Ah, ah," he chided softly, his eyes sparkling with a trace of his usual mischief, though his breathing was heavy now, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "Hands where I can see them."
Before you could question him, he pulled the black fabric of his blindfold from the backrest where he’d dropped it. With a swift, incredibly gentle movement, he wrapped the long strip of cloth around your wrists, looping it loosely but securely, binding your hands together. He lifted your arms, placing them above your head against the back of the sofa.
"Satoru," you breathed, a thrill of heat shooting straight down your spine at the sight of your bound wrists against the dark fabric.
"Just for a little bit," he murmured, leaning over you, his chest pressing into yours, trapping your hands gently beneath his own weight without hurting you. "I want you completely open. I want to take care of you, and you don't need to do a single thing but feel me."
He kissed you again, deeply, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he positioned himself between your thighs. The blunt, heavy tip of his length pressed against your opening, slick with your own moisture. He was incredibly large, the sheer width of him stretching you before he had even begun to push inside.
You let out a soft, strained cry against his lips as he began to slide in.
"Slowly," he whispered into the kiss, his hips moving with an agonizing, careful restraint. "I know. Just breathe, love. Let me in."
He pushed deeper, the thick fullness of him stretching you to your absolute limit. It felt overwhelming, an incredible, heavy invasion that occupied your entire consciousness. Your thighs trembled against his flanks as he buried himself completely inside you, his hips flush against yours.
For a long moment, he didn't move. He simply stayed there, buried deep, his forehead resting against yours, his breath coming in ragged, heavy pants. His eyes were wide, beautiful, and completely focused on your face as you adjusted to the sheer size of him.
"You feel... incredible," he choked out, the composure in his voice finally cracking, showing the raw, desperate edge of his own desire. "So warm. So perfect."
"Satoru... move," you whimpered, your bound hands twitching against the sofa, your hips giving a small, desperate upward jerk.
He let out a low groan and began to pull back, almost entirely out, before sliding back in with a deep, heavy thrust. The sensation was electric. The friction of his skin against yours, the deliberate, unhurried rhythm of his hips, sent a wave of intense pleasure straight to your core.
He stayed in missionary, his large frame completely covering yours, providing a sense of absolute security and total envelopment. He was soft in his dominance, never rough, but completely unyielding. Every time you tried to shift or speed up the pace, the steady weight of his upper body and the firm grip of his hands on your hips kept you exactly where he wanted you, forcing you to take every inch of him at his preferred, torturously thorough pace.
"Look at me," he commanded softly, his voice thick with lust.
You opened your eyes, your vision slightly blurry with tears of pleasure. He was looking down at you with an intensity that felt almost sacred. His white hair fell forward, framing his face, his skin flushed a light pink.
"That's it," he murmured, his pace quickening just a fraction, the thrusts becoming deeper, harder, hitting a spot inside you that made your entire body go taut. "Right there? Do you like that?"
"Yes- Satoru, yes," you cried out, no longer caring about keeping quiet in the empty hospital. The sound of his skin slating against yours, the heavy, wet friction of the coupling, filled the quiet break room.
His hand came up, his fingers untying the blindfold from your wrists with a quick tug, freeing your hands. But before you could move them, he laced his long fingers through yours, pinning your hands to the sofa on either side of your head. He leaned down, his chest crushing yours, his mouth devouring your groans as his hips began to drive into you with a fierce, relentless rhythm.
The pleasure was becoming too much. The sheer size of him, the depth of the thrusts, and the overwhelming intimacy of his gaze were pushing you past the brink. Every nerve ending in your body felt raw, hyper-sensitive, overstimulated by the friction and the weight of him.
"I'm close," you gasped out, your head tossing back against the cushion, your eyes rolling shut as the tension in your lower belly wound tighter and tighter. "Satoru, I can't-it's too much"
"Stay with me," he pleaded, his voice rough, losing all its softness now as his own climax neared. He didn't slow down; instead, he drove deeper, his thumb finding your clitoris again, adding a frantic, vibrating pressure to the mix.
The combination was devastating. Your body convulsed, a violent, blinding orgasm ripping through you, melting your muscles and causing your walls to clamp down incredibly tight around his length. You cried out his name, your fingers gripping his hands with white-knuckled intensity.
The tight, rhythmic squeezing of your release broke his last remaining thread of control. Satoru let out a low, guttural growl, his hips giving three more deep, frantic thrusts, burying himself as far inside you as physically possible. He locked his hips against yours, his entire body going rigid as he came, filling you completely with a thick, burning heat that seemed to go on and on.
He groaned into the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin, his body trembling with the aftershocks of a profound release.
For a long time, the only sound in the room was the heavy, synchronized panting of the two of you, and the distant, dull hum of the hospital's dead machinery.
Slowly, gently, Gojo began to shift. He didn't pull out immediately, clearly loath to lose the warmth of the connection. He rolled slightly to the side, taking most of his immense weight off you but keeping you tucked firmly against his side, his long arm wrapping around your waist to hold you close.
When he finally slid out, a soft, involuntary sigh escaped your lips, your body feeling completely spent, vibrating with a lingering, hyper-sensitive ache.
Gojo reached down, grabbing his discarded uniform jacket from the floor. With surprising gentleness, he used the clean, inner silk lining of the fabric to carefully wipe the sweat and fluids from your thighs, his touch incredibly light, knowing how overstimulated you were.
"You okay?" he whispered, his voice incredibly soft, his blue eyes searching your face with genuine concern.
"Mm," you managed, your eyes closed, your head resting against his chest. The steady, heavy thud of his heartbeat beneath your ear was incredibly grounding. "Tired. Very tired now."
He let out a soft, warm chuckle, kissing the top of your head before pulling the jacket up to cover your bare shoulders like a blanket. He held you tight against him, his fingers tracing slow, soothing lines up and down your bare arm.
"We can stay here for a little while," Satoru murmured, his voice drifting into a comfortable, quiet cadence. "The students can wait. The world can wait. Just rest."
You let yourself sink completely into his warmth, the heavy, protective barrier of his presence wrapping around you more securely than any Jujutsu technique ever could.
hope u liked it lmk if I should make a tag list/ if u wanna be on it!!!
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