GOJO SATORU: GUILTY CONSCIENCE
✩ ‧ ˚. serial killer!au: ever since that first night, you can't get him off your mind—and even though you handed him over to law enforcement, it looks like he still wants you too. PART 1 | NSFW
contents: fem!reader. porn with plot, dubcon, semi-public sex (in a bathroom), oral (m. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), pet names (detective, princess, smart girl, pretty girl, etc.), gojo cums in your mouth. non-sexual threatening. non-sexual usage of knives/guns. more plot than porn. this is not good for you btw !!! 4K words.
author's note: pls appreciate your smut writers bc this shit is hard !!!! the sk!series might be over after this one bc i'm not feeling it anymore, but nothing's set in stone yet. posting this for the ppl who wanted a part two, but personally i would've just left it as a standalone.. oh well, i didn't want 4K words to go to waste, so enjoy 🤍
“satoru gojo, what are we going to do with you?” your subordinate asks, resting his hands on the table dividing the dim interrogation room in two. you and your coworker sit on one side, facing the serial killer on the other side—who also happens to be the man you fucked in an alley two weeks ago.
ever since that first encounter, you haven’t been able to get his face out of your mind. at work, his ice blue eyes haunted your every move. at home, he was all you could picture as your mind strayed back to your time beneath him. and now, as you and your boss interrogate him, all you can think about is how good satoru’s hands felt roaming over your skin when you cornered him—or, more accurately, when he cornered you.
“i dunno,” satoru replies, leaning back in his chair and resting his hands behind his head. he grins shamelessly, looking you up and down with interest. “so, pretty girl, how’ve you been since we last met?”
you slip your hands into your pockets to stop yourself from doing something you’ll regret and ignore the curious look your coworker gives you. “this meeting isn’t about me. this is about the people you killed and the punishment you’re about to get,” you answer through gritted teeth.
satoru laughs, eyes locking with yours and seeing right through you. “that’s funny. so, who’s this shrimpy guy next to you? your boyfriend?” he jeers, grinning unnervingly at your coworker. you shoot your subordinate an apologetic look, which he responds to with a nod.
“i’m her boss, actually,” he clarifies, running a hand through his blonde hair and narrowing his eyes. “kento nanami. and i’ve been referred to as a lot of things, but shrimpy is a first.” satoru makes a face and laughs, as if he’s amused by the whole scene.
“really? i’m surprised,” satoru replies easily. “i mean, whatever. i’ve seen better looking officers… like the one next to you.” he looks back at you, a careless smile still dancing on his lips. kento frowns and looks back and forth from you to satoru, and you force yourself to maintain a poker face in order to detract any suspicion.
“do you two know each other?” kento asks, crossing his arms. satoru starts laughing again, to which you roll your eyes. even if satoru were to tell kento what you hadn’t—that you two had fucked when you were supposed to be arresting him—you doubted that kento would believe him. after all, what’s the word of an obnoxious criminal compared to yours?
you shake your head and ignore satoru. “i’m the one who’s been leading the investigation on him for the past couple months,” you answer. kento meets your eyes and cocks an eyebrow, so you continue, “we met two weeks ago. i cornered him, but he escaped—”
“she let me,” satoru interjects, clearly enjoying the death glare you shoot at him a second later.
“you held a gun to my forehead,” you remind him pointedly, tapping the spot on your head where you vividly remember the cold metal resting against.
“yeah, but i kissed it aft—”
“we’re getting off-topic,” kento interrupts, shooting you a warning glance. “detective, i’ll handle the interrogation from here.”
you hesitate, not liking how smug satoru’s expression is—but, seeing as you don’t have a choice, you dip your head in assent and exit the room.
now that satoru’s been caught and is now in the grasp of the law, you don’t really have anything to do for the rest of the day. he was your case, and now, it looks like it’s closed, especially if your boss is the one interrogating him.
kento nanami has a reputation among law enforcement—he’s known as the stoic, serious man with a perfect record. there hasn’t been a single criminal he’s interrogated that hasn’t cracked, although the knot in your stomach tells you that this might be the first.
a sharp knock sounds on your office door, summoning you back from your train of thought. “it’s open,” you call, holding a piping hot coffee with both hands. kento opens the door and steps inside, eyebrows unusually tensed. his hands are balled into fists, too, in stark contrast to his characteristically calm demeanor.
“something wrong?” you ask tentatively, studying your boss’s troubled eyes.
kento takes a seat in the leather chair in the corner of your office and rests his elbow on the armrest, rubbing his temples. “detective, be honest with me. what happened the night you were supposed to arrest satoru gojo?”
for the first time since satoru pinned you to the wall of a darkened alley, your heart drops. kento’s knowing eyes watch your every move, from the subtle twitch in your eye to the way your fingers tense around the cup of coffee. “what do you mean?” you ask carefully, surprised at how steady your own voice is.
“detective, don’t play games with me,” kento asserts calmly, hand casually drifting towards the side of his waist. you know him well enough to know what he’s reaching for—the same instrument that another man pressed against your forehead just two weeks ago.
despite your mind being clouded with fear and uncertainty, you manage to rationalize your way through the situation. what proof could your boss possibly have besides the word of a criminal?
it’s your word against his—and you both know whose word kento’ll believe.
“that night, he threatened to kill me,” you start, repeating the story you told the authorities when they came ten minutes too late to catch satoru. “and he must’ve drugged me or knocked me unconscious because next thing i knew, he was gone.” your confidence grows with every word, and you start nodding as if you believe your own lies.
kento’s eyes narrow, and you force yourself to hold your poker face as he scrutinizes you and your words. three long, painful seconds of silence pass before his hand moves away from the holster strapped to his waist, and you internally sigh in relief. he stands without a word and makes to exit the room, but before he does, you risk it all. “why do you ask, sir?”
your boss pauses and turns back to you, eyebrows lifting in mild interest. he doesn’t answer immediately, and you tentatively ask, “...what did he tell you?”
kento exhales a soft huff of air, a look of dread in his brown eyes. “detective, for your own peace of mind, i assure you that you don’t want to know.”
well, fuck.
“i trust your judgement, then,” you reply, feeling your poker face start to slip away. you lift your now-cold cup of coffee to your lips and take a sip, attempting to hide the grimace that threatens to make an appearance. “have a good night, boss.”
“you too, detective. stay safe.”
“i’ll do my best.”
kento nods and heads out, and through your open window you watch him tell another one of your coworkers about how he’s planning on heading out early to make bread for his family, a gentle smile on his lips. eventually, he waves bye and exits the building.
you finish off your coffee and stand up, fishing out your key card from your pocket. you figure that you should head to the bathroom before you go home, just in case. a couple of your coworkers congratulate you when you come out of your office, praising you on the capture of your suspect. you take their compliments with a smile, ultimately wishing them a good night and escaping to the bathroom.
the door clicks shut behind you, and the comfortable quiet eases you at once. but before you can even appreciate the silence of the confined room, a sultry, familiar voice interrupts your thoughts. “aw, you weren’t gonna say bye before you left?”
you turn and your mouth drops open—standing before you, in the flesh, is the criminal you swore you last saw handcuffed to a chair.
“what the fu—”
satoru reaches out and grabs your wrist before you can scurry away or grab your phone. he pulls you into his chest, and you can feel his heartbeat against your back—at least, that’s what you notice before he clamps his hand over your mouth to stifle your yells.
“shut it,” satoru hisses, breath hot against the side of your face. he turns you towards the mirror of the bathroom so you can see how he’s holding you—one hand over your mouth, and one wrapped around your waist. “don’t try anything clever, sweetheart. i wouldn’t wanna have to hurt that pretty face of yours.”
you turn your head and glare at him furiously, cussing like a sailor against his hand. you eventually try to bite it, but your meager attack is essentially useless against his iron grip. satoru raises his eyebrows sternly and hushes you again, ice-blue eyes boring into your own.
“i’ll answer your questions, honey, but be careful,” he pauses and nods at his pocket, where the handle of what appears to be a knife—how the fuck did he get his hands on a knife?—pokes out of the cloth. “okay, i’m gonna take my hand off your mouth now,” he murmurs, purposefully lowering his voice.
true to his word, satoru removes his hand from your mouth. you take a long breath and hesitate—again, there’s not much you can do in this situation but play along. if he’s telling the truth, you can ask questions and he can answer them, so you try your hand at getting some information and biding time. someone would have to walk in the bathroom eventually, right?
“by the way,” satoru starts, a grin curving the corners of his lips upward. “nobody’s gonna come save you, princess. the door’s locked from the inside.” he also removes his hand from your waist, letting you take a step back.
“how?” you ask suspiciously, unsure if he’s telling the truth or not.
satoru laughs—his hair falls into his eyes, and immediately shakes it away with a huff of breath. “i’m good with my hands. but you already know that, don’t ya?”
you back away towards the other side of the bathroom, where sinks line the quartz countertop. “why aren’t you still in the interrogation room?”
“you think you’re the only girl i can convince to let me go?” satoru tuts, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. he reaches into his pocket—not the one with the knife—and extracts a badge of some sort. satoru flicks it at you, and you catch it in midair. to your surprise, it’s the badge of one of your superiors who was supposed to be keeping an eye on satoru. the coy smile on satoru’s face confirms what you’re thinking, and his nod seals it the next second.
“okay,” you say carefully, drawing out the word for a couple seconds. “how long have you been waiting here?”
“long enough,” satoru answers vaguely, not bothering to elaborate.
“thanks a lot,” you deadpan.
“nice to see that you’re still feisty—”
“and what the hell did you tell my boss?” you interrupt, suddenly remembering the dread-filled way kento had looked at you. the way your voice rises is unexpected enough to force satoru to involuntarily take a step back. it’s not much, but the step you take forward a second later to assert your position brings you a small feeling of satisfaction. after all, he’s only human—and all humans get surprised by loud noises.
satoru holds up his hands in mock surrender and eyes you skeptically. “you’re really worried about your boss’s approval, aren’t you?” he asks dryly, white hair falling into his eyes again. “heh, desperate much?”
you roll your eyes and curl your hands into fists—unfortunately, your action only seems to amuse satoru, but you ignore the little “aw” he coos and continue glaring at him. “answer the fucking question, satoru.”
“language,” he snorts. a second later, satoru cocks his head and thinks for a moment, and when his eyes land on you again he asks, “so, you’re still callin’ me satoru? cute.”
your face involuntarily heats up, and even though you’re sure satoru can tell, you pretend not to notice—again. “answer the question or i’ll scream.”
“you wouldn’t dare.”
“wouldn’t i?”
you don’t get the chance to fufill your threat, because satoru sees that you’re serious a second too early—everything’s a blur as he grabs your wrists and bunches them into one hand, firmly securing your hands behind your back. his chest rests on top of your back as he folds you over the bathroom counter, and his reflection leers at you from the mirror. “nice try, baby. but remember, you’re dealin’ with a world-class serial killer.”
“world-class? how humble of you,” you snap irritably, craning your neck to glare at satoru out of the corner of your eye. “you asshole, get off me or i’ll—”
satoru interrupts you by prodding at your lips with two of his fingers, forcing your mouth open and slipping them inside. you instantly attempt to bite him, but his fingers are so long that they trigger your gag reflex instead. “missed me, detective?” satoru coos, curling his fingers downwards and pressing on your tongue. a little whine involuntarily slips out of your lips, and satoru takes that as a yes. “yeah, i can tell,” he continues, studying your heated face in the reflection of the mirror. “i bet you couldn’t stop thinkin’ about me since that night, yeah?”
he doesn’t bother waiting for a response before he extracts his fingers and leaves you gasping for breath. you watch as satoru lifts his now-soaked fingers to his lips and runs his tongue over them, ice-blue eyes boring into your own. it’s disgusting, filthy even, but that doesn’t stop your thighs from clenching together in a futile attempt to hide your arousal from him.
“y’know, i think you’re wearing too many clothes,” satoru sighs, resting his chin on top of your head and smiling coyly. “wanna fix that for me?”
“do i have a choice?”
“no.” satoru pushes himself off of you and gives you enough space to start removing your clothes without his smothering presence. the idea of running away or screaming crosses your mind, but the serial killer’s smile makes you certain that you’d regret it—and that’s even disregarding the knife that’s still shining at you from his pocket.
seeing as you don’t really have any other option, you slowly shrug off your coat and let it slide down your body and onto the floor. your collared shirt comes off next, followed by your pants, until there’s hardly anything shielding you from satoru’s hungry eyes. the feeling stirring in the pit of your stomach is hard to describe—it’s something like a mix between longing and fear, two emotions you hadn’t felt since that night.
and maybe, even though every instinct you have insists that this is the last thing you should be finding pleasure in, you want to feel that way again.
“you really coulda been anything in the world with that body,” satoru sighs, leaning back against a wall and taking his sweet time looking you up and down. his eyes narrow slyly as he watches you shrink away from him instinctually, and the next thing you know, he’s on you again, hands tracing over your skin and lips unbearably close to yours. “although, i guess it’s a good thing you’re a detective, ‘cause i wouldn’t have met you if you weren’t.”
you shouldn’t be agreeing with him, and as he lifts you up onto the counter, you also know that you shouldn’t be letting him do this. it goes against everything you swore to protect when you joined law enforcement, and if this ever got out—no, when it got out, you’d be the pariah of the city.
but even after thinking it through, one, two, maybe even three times, you can’t find it in your heart to care about much else than the hands pushing apart your thighs and slipping inside your shamelessly wet cunt.
“heh, how long has it been since we last did this?” satoru coos, eyes glazing over with a mixture of lust and adoration. his face is redder than you’ve ever seen it—the blush spreads all the way up to the tips of his ears, and it’s even more prominent underneath the overhead lights as he eyes you. “two weeks, right? feels like it’s been twenty.”
“do you ever shut up?” you mutter sourly, averting your eyes from satoru’s. he responds by curling up the two fingers he has inside your cunt, a mean little smile on his lips.
“careful with that mouth of yours,” satoru warns, pushing his fingers in farther until he’s practically knuckle-deep inside of you. his thumb rests firmly against your clit, toying with the sensitive skin. “it’ll get you in trouble one day, pretty girl…” satoru withdraws his fingers in one swift motion with a soft, wet pop. he lifts his hand to his lips and licks off your slick, swiping his tongue over his fingers a couple times with a smile. “y’know what? i’ll let you go if you can do one thing for me, ‘kay?”
he waits for your response, raising an eyebrow patiently for you to catch your breath. it almost feels like deja vu, or some cheesy movie from the 90’s: the pretty little detective getting fucked by the big bad serial killer, and you know how these films always ended—not pretty.
“what?” you ask halfheartedly, expecting him to ask you to do something like erase him from the police records or sabotage the investigation. satoru cups your face with both hands, leaning in close enough for his lips to brush against yours, and his smile is almost mocking when he replies.
“suck my dick.”
part of you wants to ask “that’s it?”, but the glimmer in satoru’s knowing eyes makes you certain that he won’t make this easy for you.
“what if i say no?” you ask tentatively. it’s a stupid question—now you’re just playing russian roulette with his rationality, and either way, you already know your decision.
the past two weeks have been torture. every waking moment of yours was spent thinking about the man you fucked, and every time you thought of his carefree smile and feather-light touch, you just felt guilty for wanting more. after all, when you first became a detective, you swore to prioritize your job and not make any personal relationships with your subjects. and yet, here you were, almost too eager to get on your knees for the serial killer who you swore to incapacitate.
satoru shrugs nonchalantly in response to your question and not-so-subtly shoots a furtive glance at his pocket, where the handle of his knife still pokes out. “you’re a smart girl. i think you can guess, yeah?”
and that’s how you ended up with your lips wrapped around satoru’s dick for the seventh time (if you include every fantasy you’ve had about giving him head). it’s almost funny how he switches up the second you run your tongue over his blushing pink tip—his face goes red, all the way up to his ears, and the little breathy moans that slip out of his lips would be adorable in any other context but this.
“f-fuck, wasn’t expecting you to be this good,” he manages to mutter through gritted teeth, eyes fluttering open and shut. “where’d you learn to suck dick like this, heh—”
it’s been.. a while since satoru first helped you get on your knees in front of him and unzipped his pants, and even though it could’ve just been a couple minutes, it feels like this is all you’ve ever known. satoru’s ice blue eyes have barely moved from you since you started, and it looks like it’ll stay like that until you finish—or, more accurately, until he finishes.
satoru’s foot bounces on the floor as you lick a long stripe from the tip of his dick to the top of it, and the way his nails dig into his palm makes you absolutely certain that he’s close to cumming down your throat. “shit, don’t— don’t stop,” he chokes out, threading his fingers through your hair and involuntarily pushing down your head. “fuck—”
when satoru finally cums, it’s pitifully obvious—actually, it’s almost embarrassing. last time, you were the one in shambles when he was done with you, but now, it looks like it’s the other way around. his eyes flicker as they almost roll back from the sheer pleasure of you sucking him dry, and when satoru’s cum shoots out of his painfully hard dick, it’s a hot mess that leaks out of your mouth and down your chin.
“y-yeah, good girl,” he murmurs shakily, reaching down and swiping his thumb over your cum-soaked, swollen lips. you lick off the thick, viscous liquid from his fingers instinctually, a dazed little smile on your face as you watch satoru tilt his head back towards the ceiling.
it’s interesting, seeing the city’s infamous serial killer like this. he’s leaning back against the white tile of the bathroom walls, chest heaving from his orgasm, and in that moment, you realize that his attention is on everything else but you.
so, naturally, you stab him in the back.
not literally—that’d be a pain for your office’s custodian to clean up, but you extract the knife from satoru’s discarded pants and, before he can register the sharp object in your shaky hand, you press it to his blush-red throat.
satoru’s hazy eyes widen in disbelief as he realizes what’s going on before they narrow in what looks almost like a mix between anger and shock. it’s stupid, foolish, and almost naive, but somewhere in your chest, it feels like a dagger pokes at your softened heart when you categorize the look in his eyes as betrayal. which is, by all accounts, entirely unreasonable—did he seriously think you wouldn’t take advantage of him like this?
at the end of the day, no matter how good the dick was, you weren’t about to sacrifice your well-paying job for a man on the run from the law.
“what the fuck?” satoru snaps, hand twitching in a movement to throw you off of him, but thankfully, the sudden shift in atmosphere heightened your instincts to a point where nothing could possibly catch you off-guard. you dig in the knife a millimeter deeper into his throat, avoiding eye contact with the man you just made cum with your mouth. “are you—”
“yeah, i am,” you assert, biding time. as much as you’d like to pretend that you’re completely in control of the situation, there’s only so long that you can hold up this stalemate. satoru’s stronger than you physically, and the second he figures out a way to handle the knife pressed to his neck, he’d get his revenge.
satoru comes to this conclusion about as fast as you did, and his lips curve upwards in a jeering smile. the look in his eyes is borderline insane when he snarls, “nobody’s gonna rescue you from me, princess. just you wait—”
and, with perfect comedic timing, the bathroom door opens, and one of your female co-workers steps in. you’ve never talked to her much, but thankfully, her instincts are even faster than yours.
what happens next goes by in a haze. your co-worker holds a gun to the side satoru’s head, and calls for backup. then, a handful of sleepy-eyed police officers haul away a cursing and fighting satoru to who-knows-where.
but just before he’s out of sight, satoru shoots you an unsettlingly calm look. and as if that wasn’t concerning enough, the last words he mouths to you are “this isn’t over.”
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From >THIS< universe
If he was honest Red Hood would have admitted that he had been completely wired and hostile despite trying to be just cautious about the new masks on the scene. They had been doing genuine good after all; avoiding actual combat and focusing entirely on rescuing and healing civilians unless Little Brother was threatened. But the rumors...Little Brother could create a glowing green liquid that healed the people he touched with it no matter how grievous the injury. It was rumored he had even managed to reattach limbs. There was only ever one liquid that Red Hood had ever known able to come close to that.
As it turned out though, he was wrong. He had gotten his chance to meet the Rabbit Siblings on a shootout gone bad, really bad. He had been fighting for as long as he could, holding as much of his insides inside for as long as he could while his own guys evacuated as many of the bystanders as they could. He won of course but his vision had been blurring badly and he was still standing on willpower alone. If he were honest he would admit that he thought he would die standing there.
Instead he blinked for just a moment, just a moment, and suddenly he was cradled in someone's arms and being carried off. He couldn't really move, the blood loss had made him weak and almost delirious. He blinked again and he was laying on the cold asphalt of the dark city that he knew would one day be his grave. But there was a small rabbit masked person looming over him with vibrant, luminous green lenses staring down at him. They said something to him, their robotic voice echoing eerily but he just couldn't process what was said before a gentle glowing green filled his vision.
It wasn't the same green, he thought he would always be able to identify that horrible acidic green that had ruined his life as much as it had ruined his death. But this green was the kind of green cartoons used to show radioactivity; it was bright and eerie but not even close to that dull acidic green that haunted his nightmares. He almost laughed, it didn't hurt either. Instead of bubbling burning heat or Lazarus; there was a cool, somewhat slimy feeling, like jello sliding over the skin.
The dizziness gradually left him, a lot of the fight and anger that was always simmering just beneath his skin draining out as exhaustion replaced it. He drifted, his mind slipping between just surrendering to sleep and his willpower demanding he stay awake. He felt less delirious but still exhausted.
"There you are~" Little Brother sang, Red Hood understood him that time. It seemed the healing left his mind a little clearer at least. "Is your family coming to get you? My Big Sister will be back soon."
"No...no my family isn't coming for me." Red Hood sighed, even through the voice changer in his helmet he sounded exhausted.
"Oh noooo, do you need a ride home?" Little Brother asked, tilting his head. The bunny helmet made it almost comical if it weren't a little creepy.
"I'll be fine kid. I'll call for a pick up." Red Hood couldn't help but snort.
They were interrupted as Big Sister landed next to them carrying one of his more burly men in a bridal carry. The thump of her weight crashing down beside them was a bit loud and startling but she landed with grace and elegance. Her limbs seemed longer than they should be, the armor reinforced and dangerous. Little Brother perked up at the sight of her his attention drawn away from Red Hood.
"Is that the last one?" Little Brother asked, Big Sister nodded refraining from responding verbally it seemed.
Big Sister laid out his goon, Jerry if he recalled, beside Red Hood and Little Brother abandoned his side to loom over Jerry. His hands glowed green as the green floaty goo from before filled his hands. His hands hovered over Jerry's wounds, he didn't look like he was breathing but Red Hood was too out of it to be sure. The liquid seeped into the wounds and they healed, visible to the naked eye the wounds pushed bullets and shrapnel out of the open wounds before sealing behind them like the wounds had never been there at all.
The liquid moved like it didn't understand how gravity was supposed to work; thick, viscous, and glowing. One would think it looked like Lazarus Water, anyone that had only seen Lazarus Water once or twice and was not as intimately familiar might have even mistaken it. But it was cleaner somehow, cold in a soothing sort of way, and less violent somehow. Red Hood never would have described Lazarus Water as violent before, but seeing and feeling this liquid he couldn't think of the Waters as anything but violent from then on.
"Did you call your ride?" A more feminine but still robotic voice interrupted Red Hood's thoughts, drawing his attention to the tall Big Sister looming just over him. He swallowed, before nodding. Oracle likely already knew what was happening and was sending someone to pick them up, Big Sister only nodded.
"All done~, good as new. Try not to play so rough next time." Little Brother teased. "Next time you'll end up like Sleeping Beauty if you play so rough! I don't think I could find your true love to wake you up either."
Little Brother shrugged in dismay shaking his head. Red Hood didn't know whether to laugh or cry about that kind of storybook comparison. Did this kid really think they were just playing too rough or was this some kind of weird taunting? He was way too out of it to tell anymore and he just wanted to go home and sleep.
"Ugh, you got it kid." Red Hood groaned instead putting his hands over the visor of his helmet and contemplating his life choices. Little Brother laughed a little, seemingly delighted by his response and Big Sister audibly sighed.
"Time to go home Little Brother." Big Sister announced.
Little Brother nodded and hopped to his feet, a white ring of light appearing beside Big Sister. The two grabbed each other's hands and vanished into the ring of light, the light collapsing in like a dying star and vanishing completely as though they had never been there to begin with.
"What a night huh." Oracle remarked into Red Hood's ear over the comms.
"Fuck off and send somebody to scrape me off the pavement already." Red Hood complained. Oracle laughed, the sound clearly relieved despite the teasing.
<><><><>
Masterpost located >Here<
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