If you don't wake up needy and are immediately ready for an edge...I mean thats okay, but you could be better. You're clearly well trained but could be better.
So lets practice. We dont want you to get worse, you dont want to get worse, you want to get better don't you. So go ahead, think about how much better it is to feel that tingle, feel your need getting worse. Its hard to think of anything else isnt it? As your need gets worse, its only normal your desire to please gets better.
Sometimes our thoughts really do get in the way of it all, don't they. You might hope to feel better when you analyze a problem, a blocker, but over thinking might just make your anxiety worse. Over thinking really is a worse habbit, clouding our better thoughts or feelings from us.
So, instead of doing that, of thinking "why aren't things getting better?", why dont you take a deep breath for just a moment, I know its a silly ask but I dont want you to feel worse. When the air stops, your worry might feel worse, but then your heart might slow down for a second, and that exhale can help you feel better, lighter; feeling anxiety melting away. So lets do that again, better breath in, worse energies out.
Better breath in
worse energies out
Better breath in
worse energies out
You're doing so well, so much better than you were before, your distractions are gone and your anxiety is not getting worse. Its fairly easy to follow along while you breath isnt it? When youre relaxed, youre so much better to talk with, so I wouldnt worry if your memory ended of a little worse for a bit. But thats okay, i'll make sure you're safe.
You might feel worse for forgetting simple things, or something from yesterday, but that just means I can help you, remember to be better. Forgetting things might make your worries worse, but we can train your mind and body not to feel those; remind it how to be better. Its actually pretty easy to do.
Focus on me for a bit longer, and let your body move on its own for just a bit. Your hands know where to go, to make you feel better, so why not let them? Its only a moment, theres not much worse they could do. So let them feel better, let your need grow worse. Its early enough, you can sate your thirst.
Go on, feel better. Your body wants it. You want it too right? You don't want to get ready for work, or class, or whatever anxiety awaits just yet, you just woke up, and you dont want to feel worse. So let your hands do their work, let them make you feel better for the day. Go on, enjoy the high and ride waves.
Properly training-up a new pet is a lot of hard work, but the rewards can be HUGE
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He uses every trick in the book. They work. Barely.
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Prompt: (Deepthroat/Crying/Hypnotism)
Tags: All three prompts, manipulative gojo, smut, male masturbation, unwilling reader, dub-con, very unethical, unrealistic hypnotism.
Word Count: 1.6k
Kinktober Master Post | Ao3
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MALE READER VERSION | FEMALE READER VERSION
Gojo Satoru took up hypnotism for a very simple reason.
He likes to get his way.
You would think he doesn’t need hypnotism to get it though. He is Gojo Satoru. Born to wealth, with stunning looks, it’s undeniable. He’s clever, strong, outgoing. In what world did he ever struggle to get his way, especially while going about the humdrum of normal life? Most people were happy to do whatever it was he wanted, just to get him to smile their way—more so when they realized how well he tipped.
Truthfully, he didn’t.
And yet, he got some sick satisfaction from pushing his natural charisma beyond its limits.
Hypnotism? Oh, it was full of little tricks that could help with that, especially when used in tandem with his already excessive power.
Just look into his eyes. That’s all it takes. He doesn’t even have to say anything, just tick down his glasses and lull people into a relaxed and open state of mind. After that, he could get just about anyone to do just about anything.
Mostly he just laughed at people who fell for it. It was a game he played with the world, mostly just for amusement. Sometimes it helped him avoid petty troubles, sometimes it might have helped him save lives. He didn’t have to spend time arguing with normies who couldn’t deal with the real world just beyond their vision. Even sorcerers could fall prey to his ticks, but he didn’t use them to abuse people.
Well, that’s how it normally is.
Except when it comes to you.
You aren’t a sorcerer, or anyone special really. Just a guy, a little down on your luck, working nights at a convenience store not far from Jujitsu High. You live in the country where night work isn’t really that exciting, though if you had another choice you’d work elsewhere. Especially because you hate dealing with one of your regular customers.
He comes by at least once a night when he’s in town, just to see the look on your face when you see him cross the threshold. Disgust, forced down under the guise of politeness as you nod your head to acknowledge he’s there. You go weeks without seeing him sometimes, and you always hope it’s the last.
It never is.
You absolutely despise him. There is no hiding it. From first glance you’d held an inexplicable, guttural, nearly violent reaction to his presence. He had that sleeper build you wouldn’t want to be on the other side of a fist fight with. He was too confident with a loud voice, the kind of person that thought they could get away with anything.
You didn’t really have a lot of experience with him though, so no hard evidence to back up what felt completely obvious. He had to be an asshole. But he was nothing but nice to you. So you frown, mistrusting his every gesture.
You should have listened to your first instinct. You should have quit your job, if you knew what it meant for you to cross paths with Gojo Satoru.
It wouldn’t have saved you. Not when you caught the interest of a man like him.
His tricks were subtle—well at first. He hardly ever met anyone who took one look at him and felt such genuine disdain. He just wanted to know what your smile would look like. A genuine, content smile. Like if you’d just met the love of your life and were telling your friends about it. A true look of affection.
When he checks out, you catch a glance of his sterling blue eyes and are under his spell, easy as any other.
His lips curled into a smirk, as he commands you to, “Smile for me, handsome, like it’s the happiest day of your life. Bet you look real cute like that.”
And you do. You smile, a real, soft, genuine, perfect smile.
But only for a moment, you’re still looking into his eyes but the hypnotism breaks, just a little. Your lips twitch, as if fighting the perfection he’s put on your face. And whatever small attraction he’d felt seeing your smile, quadruples. The idea something in you, some random untrained citizen, was even trying to resist made his dick throb.
He might have taken up hypnotism basically for fun, but using it on you was the first time he’d really wanted to control someone else against their will.
He couldn’t even wait to get home, he walked around the edge of the building (only just out of sight) and pulled his cock free from his pants, furiously stroking himself until he unloaded a spew of white mess onto the brick. He stays there for a moment, head against wall huffing, and he decides this is no way it can be the last time.
You became a grand experiment. He took his time, there was no need to rush, not when your small futile resistance became the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. He was addicted to the light of hatred that lingered behind your every look at him, melting away to obedience while the you inside tried so hard to resist.
Slowly, he tries to corrupt your mind into liking him. He tried different colognes until he found a scent you liked, and hummed whatever song he found out was your favorite when he was near you. That way you’d hear it and think of him now, not to mention getting it stuck in your head. A loop of you having to remember who it was that got that melody tattooed to your brain.
It’s so hard to keep it cordial when he wants to touch you. He can’t stop himself from always undressing you from behind his sunglasses. You couldn’t see him do it, but with the way you shifted on your feet whenever he was around made him certain you felt his intentions. Well, and at this he would laugh to himself, you were subconsciously remembering far more than that.
It’s been weeks, and now he’s made it so even though he knew you despised him, you relaxed a little when he entered the gas station. Your tense shoulders lowered when you smell him, and sometimes you even caught yourself humming that same song along with him. And every time he leaves, he says the same thing, eyes peering deep into yours.
“Don’t forget to say thank you, handsome.”
“Thank you, b-babe.”
You couldn’t help yourself. It was policy to thank customers, obviously. But it felt different when he asked you to say it, and how every time you couldn’t help but say in a voice that didn’t even sound like you. He smiles coyly, feeling how it makes his blood hot that you can’t even hear yourself call him babe anymore.
“That’s right, good boy.” And in your mind his ‘good boy’ only meant ‘sir’, his smile widens. “You’re welcome. See you later.”
You don’t respond. You never want to see him again. Not enough to wish him dead, but recently your thoughts have started ticking there. But your mouth waters terribly as he leaves, and you don’t know why, so you chug some water to chase the feeling away.
After your shift’s over is when he returns, when your hands shake as you enter your car. You don’t know why, but it’s like you’re waiting for something and not just to heat up the left-over pizza you have waiting at home. You’re almost excited, actually, unable to explain to the next shift worker where you manage to pull that last pep in your step out of.
And you’re so right to be eager.
Because once you leave, and you head over to a nearby parking lot, you’re meeting him. And you’re earning the next helping of your most favorite treat in the whole world. He’s made sure that your new favorite place is on your knees with your mouth wrapped around his cock.
Glug, glug, glug, glug.
The rhythmic sound of your throat clenching around his cock is hypnotic in its own right. It’s basically a lullaby to him. In fact, it’s his favorite sound to listen to at the start of the night's work, and his favorite way to finish your day.
“Perfect little mouth you got, handsome,” Gojo groans, grabbing your head and forcing you to deep throat him. You splutter for a moment as his tip bullies the back of your throat, but after a moment you relax into his perfect cock sleave, as you always do. “Every fucking time, so good. Lucky, I let anyone else see that pretty tongue of yours, what a greedy hole.” He groans.
He pushes your head down further, loving how your throat tightens a little more, before he pulls your head up. That stupid, blissed out look greets him, as he’s fucked a glazed contentment into those lips. As soon as your mouth is empty, your tongue lulls out and you pant like a dog. Spit drips down from your tongue to the asphalt below.
Yet with it, your lips twist down just enough to hint at a frown, your eyebrows twist enough to seem confused. And a small, thin trail of tears spills over your cheeks. Crying, and needy, all just for him.
You look deliciously perfect.
He peers down, checking to make sure his other order has been followed. And surely enough his good boy has his hands between his legs, furiously rubbing his leaking cock so hard and fast his thighs are shaking. Cum drools from the tip as you become more and more desperate for release, hips humping uselessly into the air.
He wonders, just for a moment, if your other hole is as needy as your mouth. And while he’s yet to use you there, right now it feels awfully tempting…
Happy Spooky Month!!
I can't promise that every kinktober day will have a male/female perspective version, but the thought of the male reader for this one was honestly really hot, I had to make it!
I enjoy writing a male readers perspective so I'm always open for requests featuring them, if you're looking for more. It's just harder for me to generate those on my own...
Until next time, be well my self indulgent friends!
With love, Bede
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