#gojo satoru x blackreader smut
Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Black!Fem!reader
Rating: Explicit
Summary: You’ve just gotten back from your final concert and your usual FWB and fellow musician, Gojo Satoru, texts you to link. Neither of you are in a position to foster a true relationship, but what you have between the two of you is still more than a typical friend with benefits.
A/N:This was going to be the beginning of a series some time ago but I decided against it, and just made it a oneshot instead. I hope you all enjoy.
The song of choice for this one is F.U.C.K. by Victoria MonetWarnings: NSFW, MDNI, 18+ ONLY, this is mostly smut
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The moment you got into your apartment you breathed a heavy sigh of relief. You were just getting in from a concert after months on the road with your band. It was a bit of a tradition for the tour to end in your city so you could leave and just go straight home. As much as you loved your craft, you loved being at home, worry free even more. You’d just gone into your kitchen for a snack when your phone vibrated in your pocket. You pulled it out and looked at the name:
Of course, he was texting. You’d heard through the grapevine that your preferred dick provider was in town, but hadn’t given it another thought since you heard the information before your show. Now, you rolled your eyes before opening the message:
-wyd
-depends on what you want
-can I come thru?
-for what?
-guess
-to eat my pussy and leave?
-ur so mean. Be there in 10
You giggled taking your twists out of the bun on top of your head. Be it as it was, you were too busy to worry about maintaining a relationship, which made things with him just make sense. Gojo Satoru was a big deal. He was more than a big deal, he was the biggest deal in music right now. However, you knew him before the fame, when you were both small time, playing open mics. Gojo took off first, but you weren’t too far behind him. It was honestly a blessing to have a friend in the industry like Gojo. Not just for the emotional support, but he was busier than you and couldn’t be bothered with a relationship either. He was a reliable friend with benefits.
You went to your fridge and grabbed a water bottle, opening it and tilting your head back to chug the bottle. Concerts always left you parched and virtually wiped out. If anyone else had texted you, you would have ignored it. You were a bit sweaty from your concert. You should probably shower, but if you got in now there was no way you’d be out before Gojo was here. You rooted around your kitchen for the cookies you put away. It would keep him occupied while you took a quick shower.
In record timing Gojo called to be buzzed in and you unlocked the front door so he could come in. The man of the hour walked in with a black beanie, sunglasses, and a puffy black coat. It was cold outside plus, when you’re a famous guitarist and lead singer, anonymity is key for a sneaky link. He grinned when he saw you, snatching off his hat to reveal his snow white hair. He tossed the hat on your couch before taking off his coat and tossing it too.
“You dress up for me?” He questioned coming over to wrap his arms around you. He smelled like weed which meant there was a good chance he was coming from some kind of party. His overly tight black-tee and ripped pants were also a sure give away of his activities. You could see his nipple piercings through the thin shirt, which you were sure was the point. You wondered idly how he wound up texting you of all people tonight. If he was at a party then you were sure he had access to all sorts of beautiful people.
“Had a concert tonight. I’m just getting in,” you answered softly, trying to be kind to your vocal cords after a long night of using them.
“Oh fuck, how’d I miss that?” His shoulders slumped in disappointment.
“You don’t give a fuck,” you rolled your eyes, pushing away from him. You still had on the leather pants and corset from your show. It was restrictive but not the most uncomfortable outfit you’d worn for a performance.
“Don’t say that,” he crooned. You whipped around to glare at him for a moment, getting close and looking straight up his nose.
“You weren’t out doing lines off groupies were you.”
“I’m straight edge, you know that. I don’t even drink.” He responded as if offended that you would even assume he was partaking in that kind of stuff. You did know this about Gojo though. It was a rarity among artists. Even you had the occasional drink, but in the interest of your vocal cords you didn’t smoke, and nothing else could possibly appeal to you. Gojo was an awful lightweight, and he hated the way drinking made him feel. In all your time knowing him, you’d seen him drunk once.
“Just being sure. You smell like weed,” you shrugged, because no matter how well you thought you knew a person, they could always have a secret.
“It was a party, you smell like sweat.”
“Lights were hot. Come shower with me.”
“Right to getting me naked, huh?” He grinned, following after you as you went to the back of your high rise apartment, toward the bedroom. Despite being more than capable of living in a huge penthouse or maybe even a sprawling mansion, you chose this humble high rise. It was humble compared to the homes of other people of your status. You just didn’t like having more than you needed. This was all the space you needed, especially since you were on tour so often. There was no point in having a mansion that you’d never be in.
You didn’t usually shower with the people you slept with, but it was Gojo. He was aggravating, using your expensive shampoo to wash his hair and spike it up in random directions. You took notice of his fresh undercut. It had to be fresh, the light fade from the nape of his neck up toward the longer hair was too crisp and perfect. The day he undercut his hair you knew that Gojo Satoru was always going to be on your roster. He was hot. And because he was hot, you let him use your expensive body butters to moisturize because there was no way he was touching you with dry skin. It just wasn’t going to happen.
“You got a new tattoo,” he gasped suddenly. You looked over your shoulder at him as you were putting towels on the bed in preparation. It took you a second to remember that it had been a while since you and Gojo were in the same city. He hadn’t seen the carefully drawn snake cuffing your upper arm in red ink was new to him.
“Damn that’s hot,” he complimented, touching the lines with his fingertips, “Any more?”
“It’s more fun if I let you find them.”
You watched his smile grow as you looked at him, “Get your cute ass on that bed then. All fours, I know where I wanna look first.”
The best thing about Gojo, he knew your body like the back of his hand. The same could be said about you for him, of course. However the very moment you were in the position Gojo asked you to be he drew his hands, up the backs of your thighs, up to your ass before squeezing it.
“You look good enough to eat, honey.”
“That’s what you’re here for,” you quipped, snatching one of your pillows to rest your head on, as you settled into your position, adding an extra arc to your back. He spanked your ass, and you could imagine the smile on his face as your startled gasp made him chuckle.
“Right, that’s the plan, huh? Eat it and leave.”
“Mmhm,” you bluffed.
“Then I ought to make the most of this.”
From the first touch of his tongue to every moment after you felt like you’d slipped into some sinful pocket dimension ruled by lust and lust alone. His tongue, oh god his tongue. It was the only weapon forged against you that constantly prevailed. To be skilled enough at oral to make a woman come was something special, but to be so skilled to keep that same woman in a state of mind numbing pleasure, and soul breaking frustration from not cumming, that was a real demonstration of prowess.
It was like you said. He knew your body, knew exactly how you sounded when you were close to cumming, the way your body reacted, how close he could bring you to your climax before he stopped and ruined your orgasm. He alternated between staunchly avoiding your clit to sucking it, pulsing his cruel tongue against it, and giving light barely there indirect contact.
You were whining into the pillow, breathing deeply as you let your stomach relax, chasing your orgasm. He held your thighs in those big hands, keeping you in place and unable to move. It was maddening and you loved every second of it.
“Please, Satoru,” you lifted your head to breathe.
“Hm?” He hummed, still at work between your legs.
“Please, I need to cum.”
“Already?” He pulled away, making you whine at the loss of stimulation, “I’m just getting started, honey.”
As he spoke he slipped one long finger into your already soaking pussy. You whined. Tour life didn’t really yield much in sex with you. Men were such a gamble, and you had bigger things to worry about than dick, but now that Gojo was teasing, you weren’t so sure there was anything else in the world you could possibly worry about. Your own fingers were a poor replacement, and toys just couldn’t be as deliciously cruel as Gojo. You didn’t have the heart to deny yourself what you wanted, even if you knew it would make the end result all the sweeter.
One finger became two, then three, as he played in your pussy, and you had to call it playing because he knew where your g-spot was. He hit it at random intervals but always with such purpose and precision that you couldn’t begin to think that it was accidental. You were so close.
“Satoru,” you whined.
“Mmhm. What do you want, honey?” He purred at you.
“I wanna cum. Please. Please let me cum.”
“Hm, but what’s the fun in that? Especially when you sound so pretty begging me.”
You groaned, “Ugh, kiss my ass Satoru.”
He curled his fingers against your spot, making you whine a pitiful moan. Then he kept doing it, all while you felt his lips press against one of your ass cheeks.
You would have laughed, if he’d let up at all on your g-spot. You knew what he wanted, and relaxed your stomach completely to give it to him. After all, there were more reasons than one why you’d downed a bottle of water before he got here. He moved his fingers quickly, roughly rubbing against that spot that felt so intense it almost hurt, but your moans and heavy breathing certainly weren’t an expression of misery.
Gojo wasn’t satisfied until you gushed around his fingers, your cum dripped into his palm and down his wrist as you came.
“There’s the waterworks I’m looking for,” he laughed, spanking you lightly as he slowed his fingers a bit, enjoying the strong contraction of your pussy.
He was diabolical. As great as a vaginal orgasm was, it always left you wanting more.
“Well, I guess that’s all,” Gojo sighed, slowly taking his fingers out of you. He spread your sex with his thumbs, giving you one last longing look before patting your ass like it was the hood of a car, and moving away from you.
“Satoru, if you walk away from me right now I’ll never forgive you,” you breathed.
“But you said-“
You lifted yourself up on your arms and you could look back at him. You gave him a sweet doe eyed look, “You don’t wanna fuck me, Satoru?” There was no way you were going to fold and beg him to come back. It was more fun to tease him into coming back to you.
He breathed a resigned sigh, “I’m too soft on you.”
“You were just being mean to me,” you complained.
He pushed your upper body back down with a hard shove, “And yet you still get everything you ask for.”
You heard your nightstand drawer open and you turned again to watch him put on a condom all the while playfully griping at you.
“I always give you everything you want, spoiled little thing and you had the nerve to tell me to eat it and go.”
“I’m sorry, Toru,” you cooed the nickname, knowing he liked it when you played nice with him, especially when you had every intention to still be mean later on. It was one big game and you loved every part of it.
“No, you’re not, but you will be. It’s been too long since I had good pussy, honey.”
Was it crude? Yes. Was it also extremely flattering that a man like Gojo considered sex with you to be exceptional? Also, yes. You put a bit more of an arch in your back, shaking your ass a bit to catch his eye. It did, his hands came up to knead the soft flesh of your ass before spanking you again.
“You gonna be good for me?” He asked, and you felt the head of his dick, swipe through your folds as he teased you with it.
You nodded, “Yes.”
Gojo let his eyes trail up your back, taking in the graceful arch of your back, all the way up to the pretty side profile of your face as you laid with your cheek pressed against one of your pillows. To say he’d missed you while you were on tour was a severe understatement. It was a real mystery to him how he missed that you had a concert tonight. If he knew, he would have been waiting backstage for you. He didn’t even care about the risk of someone finding out about the two of you and feeding it to the press. You were just too good to pass up.
He teased himself and you a bit longer, listening to your breath hitch as his dick rubbed against your clit before traveling back to your entrance. He took his time pressing into you, watching your hole stretch to accommodate him. You were wet, obscenely so. It was a test of his own self control to enter you slowly instead of rushing in to be deep inside your wet heat. When at last he was seated fully inside of you, he let his hands caress your body, from your hips all the way to your waist and then back.
“Fuck,” he huffed.
You hummed, pushing your hips back against him, “Come on,” you whined.
“Impatient little thing,” he chided lightly, “that’s okay. I’ve got something for that.”
He pulled out of you almost completely before pushing back into you sharply. The head of his cock butting up against the end of you harshly. You gasped, rocking forward reflexively. He grabbed one of your arms and brought it behind your back.
“Now where are you going?” He asked, a lilt of cruel humor in his voice as he gripped your forearm. He pressed it against your back to keep you in place as he began a punishing pace. His hips smacked your ass over and over again, pushing your moans out of you as your body jolted forward from the impact. Your headboard hit the wall violently, probably making marks on the wall paper. Each time his hips smacked your ass it sent a jolt of pleasure all the way down to your toes.
“That’s right,” he breathed, “Take it like a good girl. Fuck!”
“Satoru!”
“Shut up,” he bit back, “lemme hear this pussy talk.”
The sounds of your sex would have been mortifying if it wasn’t so goddamn sexy just how wet he could get you. Every time, it didn’t matter how many towels you put down, if you were dealing with Gojo you were going to ruin your sheets.
His gaze was locked on his cock, watching it disappear inside of you, wet with your slick. The ring of white from the way you were creaming on his dick only made him less inclined to hold back with you. It’s why he never called anyone else when he was in your city. You were too good to pass up. He grinned in delight watching your hips push back into him, meeting his every thrust.
“Fuck yeah that’s what I’m talking about sweetheart. Fuck me back.”
You could feel sweat moistening your skin from exertion and arousal, making your whole body slick. Your thighs were shaking as the quickly coiling knot in your stomach just wound tighter and tighter. This was the reason you always answered Gojo’s texts. Sure he was a reliable friend with benefits who was also an actual friend, but more than that no one made you cum like him. Every time he thrusted into you, you felt that coil get tighter and every time you thought you were going to cum you didn’t. Instead your arousal just found new heights, scary heights, heights that made your breath stutter in your chest and your moans turn to choked whimpers. You couldn’t draw in enough breath to properly moan for him. He was driving the breath out of your lungs.
The wind up to your orgasm was dangerously long. It felt like a steady climbing first hill of a roller coaster and every time you felt like you’d finally hit the top you just kept chugging along higher.
“Satoru,” you whispered as your cheek hit the sheets.
“Fuck you’re squeezing me so tight I can barely fucking move. Been too long since I had you, sweet thing.”
“Mmm fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” you whined into the air listening to Gojo moan from behind you.
He pulled out abruptly and you whined at the loss only for him to shove you over onto your side and then again so that you were lying on your back. He grabbed your legs and spread them, putting them up on his shoulders before he dove back into you. You gasped, gripping the pillow under your head as this new angle made him butt right against your g-spot. The overwhelming pleasure made you press your head back, body making a gentle arch.
He turned and kissed your leg as he kept up his fast pace for a moment and then he slowed all. The way. Down. He focused hard precise strokes right on your g-spot as he pressed one massive hand down on your lower stomach. It felt like the floor of your body dropped out from underneath you. It hurt in the best of ways and you felt like a woman possessed. Your thighs quivered and electric shocks of pleasure made your hips jerk sporadically. There was that coil winding tighter and tighter, and yet your knew this wouldn’t be the end. Even as it became impossible to hold back the flood of arousal, you knew this wasn’t over. All the pleasure welled up and then overflowed as you gushed around him, solidifying the fact that you’d have to change the sheets before you went to sleep.
“Fuuuuck,” he drew out the world low and rough as he kept fucking through the tight contractions of your pussy, and the way that your cum splashed at his hips. You were warm and even wetter than before. Your hands trembled as you pulled him towards you, first with your hands at his hips pulling him closer.
He watched your slack jawed, pleasured face and slowly leaned down, folding you in half in the process, to capture your lips in a kiss. His tongue moved with yours, dancing to the music of your muffled moans. You slipped your hand between the two of you to rub your clit in quick circles as Gojo fucked you faster.
Your third orgasm of the night literally stole your breath. You threw your head back, sinking your nails into Gojo’s back as your mouth stayed open in a silent scream. You were vaguely aware of Gojo cursing and moaning on top of you as the pleasure of your orgasm hit you like a freight train. The other two times you came were nothing compared to this. Your toes curled and your eyes rolled back as you fought to get breath into your lungs as every muscle in your body sporadically locked down and released in wild body shaking contraction. When you could make a sound your moans were ragged, pushed out of you, squeezed out, like wringing a towel. They weren’t the pretty little moans pornstars made to sound properly fuckable. This was the sound of a woman on the brink of losing her mind, grasping at the pyre that set her body ablaze. You felt alive and near complete annihilation all at once.
Gojo clenched his jaw feeling how close he was to coming. You were so perfect. He wondered what you’d feel like without a rubber. If you were this good with it on, he didn’t think he could handle you without it. He buried his face in your neck moaning in your ear the way he knew you liked, not that he could help it. The only thing he was in control of was his position. The moans were going to come regardless. The head of his cock kept nudging the end of you and soon enough he couldn’t hold back.
“Fuuuuck. You’re so good for me. Fuuuck yesss,” he moaned as he came, hips shoving into you erratically coaxing whimpers and overstimulated groans from you. The rounded point of your nails bit into his back making the pleasure so much sweeter with the bitter sting of pain to reward his efforts. Like a man starved he kissed and bit your neck and shoulder, feeling so overwhelmingly good and needing an outlet for the sizzling hot pleasure coursing through his body. He felt delirious with it, ravenous, unhinged, drinking up every sound you made as he throbbed inside of you.
You seemed to zap all the strength from his muscles because after the intense peak of his climax was over his weight bore down on top of you, hips moving shallowly riding out the dull aftershocks.
You were both silent, joined together for an immeasurable amount of time. It could have been an eternity or a few seconds, minutes, hours, who knows? Your brain clicked back on some unknowable amount of time later and you felt a certain amount of affection swell up for Gojo. It was hard not to be soft on him when he made you cum like that back to back. You moved your legs, and he helped you, letting them rest comfortably around his waist where you could hug him in closer with them. You rubbed his back, soothing the scratches a bit, before wrapping your arms around his neck. You hugged him. His face was still pressed against the crook of your neck, so you turned and kissed his forehead. It took him a moment to respond to your affection, lifting slowly to press his lips against yours and devour you completely.
“Why do you always do this to me?” He groaned, feeling a warmth in his chest that blossomed and prickled against his skin like standing in front of a fireplace after coming in from the bitter cold.
“That shit was so good you deserve kisses,” you giggled, peppering them across his face.
“You’re just the same as always, fucking insatiable. Where’s your vibe so I can teach you a lesson about being cute with me?”he started lifting up but you pulled him back down.
“Don’t be like that. Once you get out of me I’ll calm down, baby,” you giggled letting your fingers trail up his spine. You felt him shiver against you, “unless you wanna go again.”
“I can’t feel my fucking legs.”
“Hm, you hungry then?”
“Starving.”
“I’m thinking a cajun shrimp Alfredo.”
“This is why you’re my favorite,” he sighed, rolling off of you. He took a deep breath, staring up at your ceiling without really feeling it. He was never really a runner, but the feeling he got after fucking you must be what people meant when they talked about a runner’s high. He still felt a bit delirious from just how hard he came. Speaking of, he had a condom to dispose of.
You scoffed, sitting up and taking note of the wet and sorta cold towel you were sitting on, “You just like me for my cooking?”
“Mmhm, but I like that you let me have dessert before dinner too.”
You giggled as you got up, grabbing the towel off of the bed to go toss in the washing machine. You’d get the sheets later. Aside from sex with Gojo being phenomenal there were other things to like about him. As much as you couldn’t handle juggling a real relationship, you liked the sappy relationship stuff. You liked cooking for someone else. You liked kissing and being held. You liked being cuddled up with someone. The hallmark idea of a relationship appealed to you, but real relationships required work. You simply weren’t interested in working very hard for those things. Gojo was perfect for this.
It was something you knew confused other women. Gojo was a typical man. He wanted relationship stuff without the relationship. Which could be cruel if he was dealing with a woman who truly believed she could make him pick her if she tried hard enough, or gave enough herself to him. With you, you gave exactly what you were willing to give and nothing more.
While you were cooking, Gojo came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder, before inquiring about how the tour went. You leaned back into him a bit. He smelled like you, which you liked, and you knew it would get him in trouble when he went back to wherever he was staying if his bandmates noticed.
“Tour was great, most of the shows sold out, the others were close to it. I’m really happy with the new sound engineer. He’s fantastic, miles better than that last guy.”
He hummed in understanding. He liked listening to you talk. He liked this whole part of being in your presence. The thing is, Gojo liked being touchy feely. He often refrained from it to keep people from getting the wrong idea, but when you weren’t around to sleep with he yearned for this kind of closeness, just having a warm body in his arms, and someone who would speak calmly to him without asking if he loved you, or if he would stop sleeping around for you. The two of you could just exist as you were in the present, and appreciate that you were in the same place together.
“The new album is awesome, by the way,” he said, “I listened to it on the plane here.”
You grinned, “Yeah? That’s high praise coming from you. You said you hated the demos.”
He chuckled, “I’ll admit, I didn’t see the vision before. I’ll keep my mouth shut next time.”
“You’d better.”
“My favorite is Satin Sheets.”
You rolled your eyes because of course his favorite was Satin Sheets. It was about him. That wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. There were about three songs that Gojo had written that were about you and they were… specific and raunchy.
“You’re so conceited,” you sighed.
“Well, you’re not exactly humbling me.”
You hummed your agreement, gently breaking his hold on you so you could take the pasta off of the heat to strain it. There was really no point in humbling Gojo. Being purposefully hurtful wasn’t really your thing. Besides, he deserved the praise. The sex was great and he was a pretty decent guy all things considered. When you’re in this business for a while, you come to realize there aren’t many people you can trust. You got lucky to have a handful of friends that were genuine. A simple dinner like this, with a trusted friend was a rare moment to hold on to.
The two of you sat on your sofa for dinner, with a movie on just to fill the silence. The two of you talked about work, you caught each other up on the benign happenings of your life. You were pleasantly surprised when Gojo told you he was actually going to attend an awards show for once. He didn’t usually bother going, his other bandmates accepted the award for him.
“Well, you’re up for quite a few awards,” he said, with a proud smile, “I gotta see you cry on stage.”
You scoffed, “Fuck you.”
He laughed, “You’re bound to win at least one. I think you might actually beat us for album of the year.”
“I hope not! Your fans’ll eat me alive.”
“My fans?!” he exclaimed incredulously, “The Y/N task-force is brutal! I haven’t forgotten how badly they dragged Suguru for joking that you weren’t a great lyricist.”
“He was being shady,” you said with a little laugh.
“Yeah, to me!”
It had been hilarious, watching Geto get dragged across Twitter until everyone realized the song he was making fun of was written by Gojo and not you. It was a delightful evening of Gojo sending you screenshots of memes people made dragging his best friend. At the time you felt horrible. When the worst of it was going on, you were in the studio, and therefore you didn’t have your phone to correct them.
“But really, I think you deserve album of the year.”
“Thanks, Toru.”
The two of you were silent for a good long while before Gojo spoke again, “So… you and that idol…?”
You smiled, “Jealous?”
“Not very. I mean I’m here and he’s-”
“Publicity. He’s publicity. Couple of dates to make the fans go crazy that’s it,” you said.
“Knew it,” he grinned.
You rolled your eyes at him but chose not to say anything more. Gojo was possessive. If you called him that much to his face he’d vehemently deny it, but you knew he saw you as his, and you didn’t care to correct him on that. If you were a better person you might, but as it was you liked these moments, playing house, having someone who would hold you to his side. It worked for you.
~
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