Synopsis: Frat!jo thinks about the word every time you two fuck. He thinks about you a lot more than he should. You two are just supposed to be fuck buddies but he secretly wants it to become more. This time, you're fucking him so good he just can't help himself.
FYI'S: p in v, oral (f! receiving), degradation, femdom reader, mommy kink, bratty Gojo
WC: 6.4k
This one's for my butter bean
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He’s been thinking about it ever since the two of you started your little situation. You’re kind of embarrassed to be seeing him, but you can’t help coming back for more. You’re also not dating, not officially anyway. There is however this unspoken agreement of neither of you going to other people when you’re needy. That the two of you provide something for the other that intoxicates you both. The first time the two of you fuck, he’s left drained and flabberghasted. It started a month ago at one of the various frat parties he attends. A seven minutes in heaven miracle that your bottle landed on him. Hoots and hollers emerge from the surrounding crowd, but you just roll your eyes. You know he’s notorious for sleeping around so it won’t be so terrible to spend a few minutes with him in a closet.
“You sure you can handle me?” He asks smugly. You roll your eyes again. In the span of a minute he’s already wildly irritating. His baggy jeans and t-shirt are completed with a backwards cap, damn near falling off his head. You brush past him and walk into the closet. He didn’t really expect you to, but he’s always down for a good time. Maybe you shouldn’t have gone into the closet with him. This will seriously ruin your reputation as the university’s cool girl.
“So what’s your name sweetness?” You glare at him from two feet away in this cramped closet. You lean back against the wall before responding with your name. He takes one step closer to you, his scent invading your nostrils. At least his scent is one of spicy musk, clearly from his cologne, and not just straight up musk. Most frat guys just straight up stink.
“That’s really pretty. I think it’d be even prettier if you came a little closer.” You start to smile, pushing away from the wall. The two of you are about a foot apart now.
“Do your little lines work on everyone?” You raise an eyebrow at him. He scoffs. He’s not used to people resisting his flattering words. Men and women alike fall at his feet no matter what he says.
“I don’t have lines, just straight charm baby.” You hum, nodding along with his ridiculousness. He steps closer to you, expecting you to cower. You hold your ground instead, paying no mind to his little intimidation tactics. You just smile to yourself, knowing you’re the one ride he won’t survive. You like to put men in their place, and this seems like the final boss. He walks around all cocky and irritating. Breaking hearts left and right. It delights you to finally be the match he isn’t prepared for.
You grab his shirt by the collar, pushing his back against the wall of the closet. He doesn’t expect it, and stumbles backwards, back hitting the wall. He braces his hands against the wall to keep him from falling.
“Shit-” He doesn’t get to finish whatever he was going to say. You pull him down to your mouth. Your lips move over his, taking control of the situation. When he finally regains his balance, he puts his hands on your hips. Grabbing at the fat there, he walks you back against your side of the closet. His attempts to take control of the make out session are quickly squashed. Your back is against the wall, but you grab his jaw and keep him where you want him. You bite his bottom lip, making him hiss in pain. It gives you the opening to slip your tongue in his mouth.
He pulls back, but you give chase, pulling him right back into it. He finally gives into it, just enjoying it. You’re a good kisser, and he enjoys it despite not having any control over it. You pull back, sucking in lungfuls of air. A string of saliva connecting your mouths.
“Fuck.” He says it breathily, still in total awe of you.
“I know right?” You thread your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, knocking the hat off his head. His hand comes up, resting between your shoulder blades. The other rests just above the curve of your ass. You come off his mouth to kiss his jaw, and trail kisses down his neck. You pull down the collar of his t-shirt to suck a pretty little mark into his collarbone. He throws his head back, sighing at the feeling. You move up again sucking another hickey right over the pulse point on his neck. This time he groans, hands clenching on your hips, where they’ve migrated back to.
He’s usually the one dominating, so why does it feel so good to let someone else take over? He enjoys putting people in their place, making them bow to him. But you? He’s kissed you twice and he’s ready to let you do almost anything to him. You see him disassociating to the pleasure, but no no you can’t have that. You pull his hips flush against yours, hooking your finger in his belt loop. You lick a stripe up his neck before whispering seductively in his ear.
“Someone’s eager, huh?” You feel the growing bulge in his pants, pressed up against your thigh. He can’t remember the last time he got this hard this quickly. He scoffs, trying to play it off.
“Nah, everything’s functioning just right.” Both of his hands grab meaty purchases of your ass, hauling you against him. He leans down attempting to kiss you again, but your head rears back.
“That isn’t how this works, sweetness.” You mock his stupid nickname for you earlier.
“Everything always works out exactly how I want it.” He retorts. His pupils are blown wide, and he has that glossy, lustful look in his eyes.
“With everyone else, sure. But let me make one thing clear, Satoru Gojo, I’m in charge.” He rolls his eyes. Before he ever registers it, you’ve shoved him back against his side of the closet. You stand just a few feet apart, breathing heavily. Your eyes lock, gazes challenging one another. The closet door opens. For long minutes the two of you stand there, glaring at each other. You’re both determined for the other to concede first. It takes his frat brothers yelling at him to move for his gaze to finally break away from yours. Your eyes trail his back as he walks away from you. You smile to yourself knowing you had the fraternity president and captain of the football team, Satoru Gojo, nearly on his knees.
A few days pass, and you’re an everpresent thought in his mind. Not that he wants you to be. All the two of you did was kiss, so why are you so irritatingly stuck in his frontal. Maybe it's because he’s not used to being handled. Not that you handled him or anything, just the attempt was there. Maybe he just wants you to know that he’s the one in charge, not you, even though you made a pretty good attempt at telling him what to do. He totally didn’t like how you manhandled him. Not at all.
He looks for you at every party though. He fails to find you in them, because you only went with your friend as a favor. You don’t frequent frat parties, or any parties for that matter. You have fun, but not enough to justify going time after time. Obviously, the king of the frat doesn’t know this. He just expects who he wants to be there to show up. But you never do. That’s when he starts asking around. His friends. Then his friends ask your friends, and eventually it gets back to you that he’s looking for you. That he’s told just about everyone in your year on campus, that you almost came from kissing him. Because of course he couldn’t just ask about you. No, he had to spread a rumor so huge, the professors have started talking about it.
You show up at the frat house after your last class on Friday. Banging on the door, you’re not surprised when a different frat guy opens the door.
“Where’s that stupid fucker?” A scary looking guy with space buns points you in the direction of the stairs. The devil himself is floating down them like he has not a care in the world. You march over to him, seething with anger.
“Upstair. Now.” He scoffs, but he leads the way upstairs anyway. You slam the door behind you, anger evident in your every movement. You stand in front of him, arms crossed.
“Why the hell are you spreading rumors about me?”
“What ever do you mean, pretty lady?” His stupid crooked smirk pisses you off. What you wouldn’t give to tear down his bad boy demeanor.
“I don’t know, maybe the fact that you’re telling everyone I almost came from making out with you in that closet. Lying on me to cover your own ass is pathetic.” Your annoyance only spurs him on.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You scoff.
“Really?” You poke a finger at his chest, nudging him back against his bed. He sinks to the mattress when his calves hit the back of it.
“Need me to jog your memory?” Your voice drops down into a sultry tone. He doesn’t answer, but he lets you crawl over him. You place sloppy wet kisses up his neck to his jaw. His hands tighten where they rest on your waist. You move up, hovering just above his mouth, centimeters from his.
“We were just like this,” you whisper to him, “and I had you shivering from my touch.” He’s shivering now. He doesn’t tighten his hands any further, because he doesn’t want to hurt you, but his whole body is tense. It feels like he’s lost feeling in his toes, as he shakes with anticipation. Your hand comes up to caress his cheek, your thumb resting on his plump bottom lip. He looks up at you with those crystal blue eyes. You wonder how he looks when he cries.
“And I had you just like this, before the closet door opened.” You pull away from him, hopping off of the bed entirely.
“So you tell me who was on the verge of coming from just kissing.” He sits up, still stunned from the way you’d completely flipped the situation.
“Ahem- well I um… how do you do that?” He scratches his head, confused.
“Do what?” You cross your arms, pushing your cleavage higher. His mouth waters at the sight.
“I feel like you put a curse on me or some shit. One minute I’m fine, the next you’re taking up all the air in the room. It’s fucking weird.” You shake your head laughing.
“Some men just like to be bossed around.” You shrug. He scoffs.
“Well I fucking don’t. I’m the dominating one.” He stands, getting close to you. He bends down, towering over you. He tries to intimidate you, but you just smile, showing teeth. You run your palm down his chest to his abs. He stays close to you, trying to seem unaffected. When your fingers begin playing with his belt buckle, he backs away from you.
“Holy fucking shit, what are you doing to me?” You laugh at his dramatics.
“What I do to every man who crosses my path. I give you a taste of what you really want, and it consumes you. You’re just not willing to swallow your pride long enough to admit what you want.” You pick your purse up off the ground, from where you dropped it. You fix yourself in his mirror, while he contemplates what that even means.
“If you figure out what it is that you want, you know how to find me. If you ask nicely I might just give it to you.” And with that final piece of wisdom, you leave, once again slamming the door behind you.
For minutes, maybe hours, he sits on his bed with his head in his hands. He’s always been the one in the driver's seat when it comes to everything. The idea of giving into anyone else’s will besides his own disturbs him. He’s always in control. Always. So why do you evoke a different feeling in him? One that allows him to give up control, even if just for the moment.
He spends the next week trying to convince himself he doesn’t want it, doesn’t want you. In reality, he doesn’t really know what he wants, but ever since you left his room he’s been thinking about what you said. He can’t help it. He doesn’t know what you want to do to him, but he does know he wants you. He sees you all the time, except it's not actually you. He keeps catching glimpses of people that maybe, kinda, sorta look like you and hoping that it actually is. Because in all actuality, he doesn’t know where to find you. You’re a campus recluse. You stay out of drama and underground. The fact that you were at his party in the first place is like finding a super rare pokemon card in a random garage. It drives him insane. He finally, finally finds you. You work at a comic book store in the mall, and Suguru invites him to come too.
What he doesn’t expect is that you and Suguru know each other. You populate a lot of the same circles, that being underground rock bands. It feels like a trap the way Suguru immediately disappears the second Satoru spots you.
“Y-you work here?” He sputters, coming closer to where you’re stocking shelves.
“Do you think I’m stocking shelves for free? Yes, Gojo, I work here.” He’s too shocked at the betrayal he’s feeling to be mad about your attitude.
“Do… do you know Suguru?” He asks another stupid question. You don’t say anything, just stare at him until he gets the hint.
“How the fuck didn’t I know that? So much for being my ‘best friend!” He yells to Suguru, who is scouring the stacks for a manga. You shake your head in laughter.
“I’ve been looking for you.” You nod, pretending to listen thoughtfully.
“It’s almost as if I knew that, and I asked Suguru to bring you here. I thought you would’ve known me through him, but it seems I was wrong.” Gojo crosses his arms. Pissed at the whole situation.
“So, Gojo, did you figure out what you wanted?”
“You.” He blurts out before he can stop himself. He rubs a hand down his face. Holy fuck, how much more can he embarrass himself.
“I mean- well yes I do want you but-” The look you give him silences the words in his throat.
“You’ll follow my lead? My rules?” You raise an eyebrow, waiting to see how he’ll counter. He chews on the inside of his lip, contemplating for long moments.
“Fuck… okay, fine yes. Yes, I will.”
The smile you give him scares him shitless. You give him your phone number and arrange a time to meet. He’s nervous, that’s clear in every unsure text he sends you. Asking you how to dress, what to expect, how he needs to prepare. This is the first time he’s been unsure of anything, let alone sex. And now he is. It’s shocking to him, how quickly you’ve managed to encase him in your web. It doesn’t surprise you. It’s all in your technique.
He comes to your apartment a few days later, at your agreed time to meet. He’s painted on this overt mask of confidence, one you’ll have fun breaking down once you see it. He dressed casual, sweatpants and a hoodie to match. He didn’t feel like dressing up was appropriate, considering he came here to get undressed. You open the door, still in your pajamas. Wordlessly he follows you to your bedroom, taking in the dramatic decorating style of your apartment. Layers of drapes on your windows and lots of fluffy animal print pillows on your couches.
He closes the door behind the two of you. He stands there awkwardly staring at your room.
“I really only have one rule. I’m in control. Okay?” He nods. You beckon him towards you. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him down to you. You kiss him with the same bruising force as when you were in the closet together. Instinctively, his hands rest on your waist. As per his instinct, he tries to be the one in control. He pushes his mouth hard against yours, tongue dipping in to explore your mouth. You thread your fingers into the shaggier hair at the top of his head. You grab a fistful, pulling his mouth away from yours. When you see his eyes, they’re looking down at you lustfully. Pupils blown wide, mouth slightly parted.
“Satoru…” You murmur to him in a sing-songy voice. You kissed him once, once, and his dick is damn near at full attention. The way you say his name in that mocking tone makes him shiver, only making him harder.
“What?” You squint at him. You don’t like his tone, but you won’t get that deep into punishing him on the first fuck. Still, you make note of this for later.
“Tell me what you’re doing wrong right now?” He rolls his eyes. Infraction number two.
“I didn’t do anything.” He grips your hips tighter, eager to get back to it. He attempts to come back down to you, but you keep him held away from you.
“What’s my rule?” You see the way his irritation grows, when a scowl begins to form on his lips.
“You’re in control.” Though, he has every intention of trying to flip the situation. It won’t work, but he doesn’t know that yet.
“Right. So act like it. Calm down, or you’ll be walking out of here horny and blue-balled. Take a deep breath.” You release his hair. He doesn’t want to, but he listens and takes a deep breath, making a big show of it. It does help ease his nerves, when he bends down to meet your lips again. Begrudgingly, he follows your lead, letting it start slow.
He groans when you slip your tongue into his mouth, quickening the pace of things. He lets you in, before tentatively pushing his tongue against yours. He’s testing for your permission now. How… good of him. You let him in, his tongue mingling with yours. You angle your head, getting a better vantage point. His fingers flex on your hips when you grab him by the jaw, pulling him impossibly closer to you.
You pull away from him, satisfied when you see him giving chase. You slide your silk sleep shorts off, before you sit on your bed. You scoot back, until your back meets the pillows.
“If you can make me cum, I might just let you.” You spread your legs wide, revealing damp cotton panties. He smiles deviously. You’ve just stepped into his domain. You like the way he eyes you hungrily. He slips his hoodie off in one smooth motion, ever the show off. The white tee he has underneath slips off with it.
“I’d prefer you sit on my face, but this works too.” He cracks his fingers, before climbing onto the bed. He props himself up on his elbows, sliding your legs up and over his wide shoulders. He uses the tops of your thighs to pull you closer, right up to his face.
“And I can do this however I want?”
“Well, I don’t know how many ways there are to eat pussy, but sure. However you want Satoru.” He snickers.
He licks you through your panties first, savoring the taste. He uses his teeth to pull the fabric away from you, sucking it into his mouth, before hooking his fingers into the waistband. You lift your legs up allowing him to yank them over the curve of your ass and off. He slides them in his back pocket for later.
He starts off slow, spreading your lips to see your sweet pink center in earnest. He inhales deep, savoring it. His eyes close as if trying to store your scent for later. His tongue caresses your clit lightly, a barely there pressure. Suddenly the pressure increases. It makes you write, momentarily caught off guard by the feeling. It’s now that you see his “slow start” was a game.
He eats you out in earnest now. His lips devour you carnally. He licks and sucks at the sensitive bud of flesh, before dipping back down and shoving his long fat tongue in your puckering hole. Your back arches up off the bed, heels digging into his back. You can feel him smirk against you every time you moan, which is loud and often.
“Fuck- Satoru! Holy shit -ngh.” The tingling sensation starts in your toes, curling in the air. He shoves a finger in you, curling it right against that spot in you that makes you ache. His tongue sucks hard on your clit.
“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, give it to me.” He whispers against you. You try your best to hold out, you really do, but it’s just so good.
“Oh my fuck! Mnm, I’m cumming!” Your back arches off the bed, whole body tensing. He continues licking and sucking, curling his finger in you; fucking you through it. You push his head away as you come down from your high. You inhale hard, trying to catch your breath.
“So how’d I do boss?” You roll your eyes sitting up.
“Shut up.” You push at his chest, so that he’s lying flat on his back. He wastes no time slipping his sweatpants and boxers off. You straddle his hips.
“I mean, I’m just asking for advice. Should I use two fingers next time?” You roll your eyes, that arrogant smirk that you hate reappearing on his face.
“It’s gonna be real fun breaking you, pretty boy.” He flushes, eyes widening, before he tries to pretend to be cool again.
“Oh sure ah-” He doesn’t get to finish whatever awful comment he was going to spew. Your hand wraps around the base of him, sliding up and down to add friction.
“Hmm? What was that Satoru?” You quicken your pace momentarily, his head falling back against the pillows. You let up, just a little, so he can lift his head off the mattress.
“I was gonna say…” The words get caught in his throat as you lean down to spit on his prone cock. He swallows hard, envisioning you wrapping your lips about his angry red tip.
“Cat got your tongue?” You ask, saccharine sweet. You smile devilishly at the way his mouth gapes.
“Can you suck me off?” He asks nicely. You use your free hand to rest your pointer finger on your chin. You pretend to think really hard about it.
“Hmm, let me see. No.” He pouts. Cute.
“Why not? I’ve been following what you said. I made you cum. I’ll do it again!” He raises his voice as his frustration grows.
“Lower your tone, Satoru.” He grumbles an apology. Third and fourth infraction added to his sentence.
“You haven’t earned my mouth. You’re lucky you get this.” You speed up your face again. The action pulls a loud moan from his throat. When he hears himself his head snaps back to attention.
“But you said-”
“I know what I said. Doesn’t mean I can’t tease you before we get there.” He frowns.
“Your rules are incredibly skewed. It’s fucked up. Ngh-” His back arches, as you start to jerk him in earnest.
“You’d better remember your manners. I’ll make you come right now and kick you out. No pussy for you.” He reaches to grab your wrist, before thinking better of it.
“Fuck, I’m sorry!” Your pace eases to a stop. You lean in, placing a chaste kiss on his lips.
“Was that so hard?”
“Incredibly.” You shake your head. Brat taming is a hard job. Seven infractions this far in are very unusual for the ones you typically go for. You decide to let it go in favor of teasing him in another way. You position yourself right over his aching cock. You sink down on him, pulling what can only be considered a whimper from his throat.
“Fuuuuuuck.” His hands grip your hips tight, holding you still. You squeeze him tight, his hips bucking up into you.
“Give me a minute, shit-” You move faster, despite his hands trying to keep you still.
“Oh oh- oh- fuck! Nghh- please slow down!” Your hand slides up his chest, resting at the base of his neck. You squeeze slightly, his eyes rolling in the back of his head. You continue riding him with abandon. His moans and whimpers only grow louder the closer he gets to his orgasm.
“Ngh- hah, ah- ah- ‘m so close. Don’t stop.” Right before he cums, you lift up off of him. His head immediately perks up, pissed at his current predicament.
“What the hell?! You said I could come.” He eyes you angrily, confused.
“I’m waiting for an apology.”
“Apologize for what? I’ve done exactly what you said.” You smile sardonically. You grab his jaw, perfectly manicured nails digging into his face.
“You have an attitude problem. So I want you to think, real hard. As hard as that tiny little pea brain jumbling around in your skull can. And tell me where you fucked up.” His bright blue eyes shift around for a second. You have a little mercy on him since this is his first time being submissive.
“I’ll give you one. Earlier you said ‘what’ but the correct response is always yes. Got it?” He nods, blinking rapidly. The wet sheen to his eyes excites you.
“Okay uh- I’m sorry for being rude and not listening on purpose.” You nod, sinking down on him once again. His eyes squeeze shut, trying to concentrate.
“I’m sorry for being annoying hah-” You slowly circle your hips, giving in to the way he fills you up.
“Fuck- I can’t remember anything else, but I’m sorry! I’ll listen from now on.” You smirk, happy at getting the exact reaction you wanted.
“You’ll be good?” He nods profusely. You lift your hips up, bringing them back down. His hands clench your hips so hard, there’s little half moons imprinted there.
“Say it.”
“I’ll be good!”
“You promise?”
“Yes, yes! I’ll be so fucking good; I’ll be the best.”
“Good boy.” His back arches. He shoots thick ropes of cum into you, painting your insides white. You rub circles in your clit. It doesn’t take much before you're right over the edge with him. He comes for long seconds, thrusting up into you every few seconds.
He releases your waist, his body going limp. You hop off of him, opting to clean yourself up. You slide your silk sleep shorts back on. He lies there for long minutes catching his breath.
“Someone likes being called a good boy.” He wipes a hand down his face.
“I do not.” You eye him skeptically.
“Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” You throw a towel at him so he can clean himself up. He finally stands up, wobbling ever so slightly.
“How was it?” He turns around looking a mess.
“I feel oddly drunk.” He chuckles, pulling his pants up.
“Mhm.” He finishes dressing himself. You see when he slides your panties in his back pocket, but you choose not to comment.
He leaves your bedroom and you follow behind as he makes his way to your front door. Right before he leaves you call to him.
“C’mere.” He turns around, bending down to meet your lips. You suck his bottom lip into your mouth, biting down on the sensitive flesh. He leaves, the memory of what happened between you two still fresh on his mind.
Slowly, but surely he stops entertaining other women after that. He hasn’t had sex with anyone besides you since the first time. He doesn’t get the same rush from other people that he does with you. And ever since that night a certain urge takes over him every so often. A certain word that he’s never called anyone else before. He never imagined the thought would be on his mind. But it is. Every time. So far, he’s managed to keep that word at bay. He doesn’t know why, all of a sudden, it’s engraved in his brain. Carved out especially for you. That is until he fails a test and loses a game, all on the same day. He likes to pretend to be stupid in front of his so-called fans, but he’s actually incredibly intelligent. However, this time, physics evaded him and he got a D+ on his chapter test. The professor offered to let him retake it, which he appreciates, but now he’s in a shitty mood.
That mood transfers into his game later that afternoon. He’s consistently missing passes, getting fouled, and getting tackled. Usually, football is where he can turn his brain off and do what he needs to do. Instead, he’s overthinking every single movement, and he can’t get his head in the game. Eventually, the coach swaps him out which only worsens his mood. At the end of the game, he needs to cool off. He brushes off the calls of his teammates and heads straight for your apartment. The only place none of this has to matter. All he has to do is please you. He’s consistently good at that at least.
You, on the other hand, are getting worried. You’ve never had a problem with detaching yourself from boys, it’s easy, it’s all you do. But this one, for whatever reason, has stuck to you. He’s not usually the type you go for. You prefer the naturally submissive ones. Not the ones that fight you on every single front, like he does. But something about his stupid smile, and the dumb way he dresses, makes you oddly giddy. You’ve never felt like this about anyone, and the fact that this guy is the one you can’t stop thinking about annoys you. He annoys you. But you can’t bring yourself to end it just yet. You say it’s because he’s convenient, but if you think about it long enough, you know that’s not true.
Just when you want him out of your head, he appears in person. When you hear the knock at the door you know it’s him. When you open the door, he looks more pathetic than usual. Slumped against the doorframe, head hanging low, shoulders crouched. He looks on the verge of tears, and he just got here.
“Bad day?” You open the door, inviting him in. He nods solemnly, heading straight for your bedroom. You raise your eyebrows in surprise. Straight to business I guess. When you enter your room, he’s sitting at the foot of your bed, stripping from his threadbare t-shirt. When you step in front of him, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. He buries his face in your stomach, resting there. For long moments he breathes in your scent. You run your fingers through his already messy hair, scratching at his scalp. You bring your hand down to caress his face. He leans his head back, staring up at up with those pretty pale blue eyes. The side of his face nuzzles against your hand, as his hands continue to wander.
“What do you need?” You ask gently. You’d never go too hard on him if he’s already having a bad day.
“You. Just need you.” Your body curves down, meeting him where he is. He kisses you forcibly, like he’s trying to climb inside your skin and live there. You return your fingers to his hair, tugging just the way he likes. He sighs into your heated mouth, tongue darting out to meet yours. You pull back, stripping yourself of the big t-shirt and tiny sleep shorts you had on. The hungry way he eyes you, makes it exceedingly clear how much he wants you. He slides his shorts off, scooting further back on your bed. You climb on top of him, straddling his hips.
“Sit on my face.” You arch an eyebrow.
“Please. I just want to do something right today.” The inkling of vulnerability he’s given you makes you give in. You make your way up the mattress so that your hips are bracketing either side of his head. He tilts his head back making his nose drag along your slit. He inhales deep, before his pointer and middle finger spread you open. He takes one long lick, from hole to clit, savoring the taste. Your head falls back in pleasure. If there’s one thing he’s always done perfectly, it’s the way he eats you. His hands wrap around your thighs, pulling your aching center down to his mouth. Hovering isn’t allowed around here, and he makes that very clear.
He gets you close just with his mouth, his tongue dipping into your hole every so often. And when he wants you to gush all over him, he slides two fingers in, scissoring them. He practically splits you open and it sends you right over the edge every time. When you come down from the aftershocks of your orgasm, you look down to see that he’s still lapping at you. You lift up, sliding down until you straddle his hips once again.
“How do you want me?” The question throws him off. You usually don’t ask. He just goes along with whatever you want.
“You’re serious?”
“If you keep asking questions instead of answering mine, I won’t be.”
“Ride me, please.” You push him down, so he’s flat on his back. Before you sink down on him, you grab a condom out of your nightstand, sliding it down his length.
As you sink onto him, his hands dig into your hips, leaving little crescent moons behind.
“Fuuuckkkk, this is just what I needed.” You ignore his comment, rolling your eyes playfully. You ride him in a way that drives him mad. Sometimes you slam your hips down hard, over and over until he can’t take it. Right before he reaches that precipice, you slow down and grind in slow circles. His pelvic bone brushes against your clit ever so nicely in this position.
“Why must you torture me woman?” He looks up at you, pupils blown wide, absorbing every moment of this. He has that hazy look in his eyes that tells you he’d do whatever you wanted him to right now if it meant he got to cum.
“Because I like to do it.” He groans, his head falling back into the pillows. You repeat that same maddening cycle. He soon becomes frenzied beneath you. Even though he’s complaining, and begging you to give him mercy, you know this is what he needed. Somewhere where he can just exist without the weight of everything he feels obligated to do. Here he has no duties, he’s just Gojo. Gojo whimpering of course.
“Mmm, fucking please PLEASE! I need to ah- cum.” You pick up the pace.
“Yeah? How bad do you want it?”
“Please, I need it. I need you.” His hands have come back to where they usually are, deepening the crescents in the fat of your hips.
“Yeah? Beg me for it. Just a little.”
“Mhm, please, oh fuck! It’s good, you’re so good I just need m-more.”
“A little louder, Satoru.” A tear slips down the side of his face. He squeezes his eyes shut, back bowed off the bed.
“Please, mommy ngh-” It comes out barely above a whisper, but you hear it. You speed up your pace, letting him find release. More tears overflow his water line. It’s not the first time someone has called you that, but he sure is the least expected. Especially to do it without any prompting. The second he’s calmed down, he wipes furiously at his eyes. He rarely cries, but when those few treacherous tears do slip, he doesn’t let them sit there. You wonder why that is, and you want to ask, but that would be crossing a line. A major line.
You lift all the way off of him, sitting beside him. He lies there, unblinking. His body is clearly spent.
“So I’m mommy now, huh?” His entire face goes bright red. He gets up, discarding the full condom.
“No.” You come up behind him, sliding your arms under his. You slide your fingertips up and down his abs, making him shiver.
“So, what was that just now?”
“A lapse in judgement.”
“You seem to have a lot of those around me, Satoru.” He turns in your arms, face still blazing crimson.
“Look, I don’t know why I said it so can you just drop it?” You rest your chin on his chest, smiling up at him like the Cheshire cat. Or the devil. He hasn’t decided yet.
“But I liked it. You can’t deprive Mommy of that now can you.” He turns his face away from you.
“Please, stop it.”
“Please what?” He whips his face back to you. His brows furrowed deeply.
“You actually like it? You’re not like… weirded out?” You shake your head, keeping your devilish smile.
“You think you’re the first person to call me that?” Somehow his stark silver brows furrow deeper.
“Please don’t talk about other men with me.” You giggle.
“Who said it was just men?” At this his eyebrows raise.
“So you’re universally evil?” You pinch his ribs. He yelps it pain, even though that definitely didn’t hurt.
“Watch yourself. You’ll build up a month’s worth of punishments at this rate.” He just chuckles, before he pulls you to settle in bed with him. Neither of you acknowledge the fact that this is long beyond what either of you expected out of this. The fact that you’re both oddly attached. You leave the confusing day thoughts behind as you drift off into dreamland, your Mommy-loving boy nestled in behind you.
