pegging nerdjo
birthday special for the people's princess
masterlist
satoru was an outcast, even as a senior at the college you both attended. he was tall with thick black framed glasses, a messy undercut, and he wore nothing but baggy clothing that hid his lean physique. all that mixed with his nervy personality made him isolated. despite those things, his underclassmen saw his potential.
a shuttered moan echoed in your dorm room as you slid your two fingers slowly inside the blue-eyed boy's tight little hole. the sensation overwhelmed him almost instantly. he imagined and done this to himself so many times, but you doing it for him felt different in his own hand.
biting his pouty bottom lip, his face flushed with a deep red. “please .. please move.” looking at you with such desire, following with a soft gasp as he felt your fingers sliding out of him, sending the feeling throughout his body. and just as quickly as you left, you returned. you watched how your fingers get engulfed by him. he was so wet and warm, sucking you in perfectly.
you watch his dick jump and leak as curl your fingers inside him—thick leaks of pre-cum wells up at the tip, slowly trickling down—his hole sucks you in further with every thrust. “o-oh .. fuck mommy.” he let a out a broken whimper as you start fucking him faster, “you like that 'toru?” his words blurred into mumbles, he couldn’t answer but based off his body language you knew his answer.
“i want you to stroke yourself while i fuck you,” he whined as he threw his head back at your command. he closed his eyes and nodded a shaky 'yes' as he gripped himself firmly, stroking himself to match your speed.
satoru drowned in his own euphoria—your hands continued to work his gushing insides, an endless rush of begs and whines spilled from his mouth. “i-i think i'm.. i'm gonna c-cum.” gripping the sheets with his free hand to stop himself from bursting. the poor thing was trembling so much he could barely keep up with his strokes.
“cum.” tears formed in the corners of his eyes, white splattered across his face, landing on his glasses—his chest heaved, breath coming into short bursts—his face turned red at the embarrassing sight. “t-thank .. thank you, mommy..”
“oh, no, no, no, we aren’t done.” a yelp filled the room as you pull him closer, putting his leg over your shoulder—within a swift motion, you pull out your favorite pink dildo. he winced at the size of the thing, “there’s n-no way that’s fitting!”
oh but it did fit. he let out soft sounds as you slowly slid into him, even a small amount had him feeling so sensitive. the sensitivity brought back the welling of his tears—the raw sensation flowing through him. as cries pour out, you really start to fuck into him, deeper, fuller. in a moment of desperation, he pulls you down for a kiss, the cum that was painted on his lips from a couple of minutes before now mixed in with your tongues—his big, thick hands gripped and clawed at the back of your shirt.
even after the kiss, he still kept you pulled down, leaving whimpers into your ear; his body continued to tremble at his rimming. knowing he was close, you started going faster—making his toes curl at the sudden change in speed. “wait, w-wait d-don’t do that!” with your free hand, you started playing with his puffy tip, making him scream.
“p-please .. w-wait .. i-im gon—” the room filled with screams and cries as he came for the second time, squirting it all on his chest. you couldn't feel anything but bliss at the man who lay before you.
snuggling into his ear, you whispered, “one more time couldn’t hurt right, 'toru 'toru?"
⊹ WHAT KIND OF SUB IS ⊹ SATORU GOJO ⎯ JUJUTSU KAISEN
cw: dom!reader, sub!gojo, brat behavior, psychological domination, sensory deprivation, praise kink, light humiliation, handling/manhandling, overstimulation, restraint.
a/n: i have to admit that sub gojo is my fsv in every way bc he's so him <3 just love him.
gojo is the kind of sub who would never admit he even can be one; his ego, his absurd power, and the identity he built around being “the strongest” make the very idea of giving up control terrifying to him… and yet it excites him in a way he can’t rationalize. he’s arrogant, yes, but beneath that arrogance lives a man who’s exhausted, lonely, and secretly desperate for someone who can finally stop him, hold him, ground him, and see him not as a god, but as a man who can tremble too.
his sub tendencies come from emotional fatigue: always strong, always responsible, always carrying a world that doesn’t care how tired he is. when someone dominates him with sensual intent, his body reacts before his mind can protest; all that pressure built inside him bleeds out through shaky breaths, choked sounds he tries to hide, and a deep, silent hunger to feel anything other than loneliness.
gojo is a dangerously bratty sub: he teases, provokes, smirks, talks back, flirts like he owns you, and plays at resisting only to fold the second you grab his face, push him onto a bed, pin his wrists, or use your weight to keep him still. the shift in his eyes is immediate: playful arrogance turning into something glassy, broken, and utterly devoted.
his voice betrays him instantly. gojo moans with shameless volume when you touch his throat, grip his wrists, or whisper deep into his ear. but once he’s truly giving in once he’s past the point of pretending his tone changes; it drops low, breathy, intimate, almost fragile. he says your name like a confession.
he has a powerful kink for being overpowered, because no one ever does. when someone finally makes him obey, pause, open his legs, hold still, lift his hips, or take instructions, his mind shorts out. he feels a mixture of pleasure and relief, as if someone has finally done the impossible: contained the strongest man in the world.
gojo is unbelievably sensitive to sensory deprivation and restraint. take away his sight ironically, removing the six eyes everyone fears and he falls apart. being at someone’s mercy without seeing, without predicting, without controlling… it drives him wild. if you tie his wrists above his head, his breathing changes sharply, his back arches, his thighs spread instinctively.
he reacts intensely to dark praise, especially that mix of possession and light humiliation:
“even the strongest needs to be handled.”
“look how fast you break when i touch you.”
“you’re not invincible here.”
each sentence slices through his ego, makes him tremble, makes him moan with that ruined, breathless sound he’d never let anyone else hear.
he is a hyperactive sub: he moves too much, laughs too loud, squirms away just to be dragged back, bites your shoulder, tries to flip you for a second of dominance only to melt when you pin him down again. he needs someone capable of keeping him in place even when he’s playing. if you restrain him with your thighs or your weight, he softens immediately, becoming gentle, quiet, almost tender as if containment is the one thing he’s been craving for years.
he’s extremely easy to overstimulate: every part of him is a weak point. kiss his throat he arches. bite his jaw he exhales like he’s losing control. slide your fingers along his thighs he’s already hard. when you combine it your voice, your hands, your body he breaks beautifully; his head falls back, his chest shakes, and he moans like someone who’s finally allowed to feel.
his sexual vulnerability is intense, because it’s the only space where he isn’t “gojo satoru, the honored one”: he’s just satoru, a man who wants warmth, touch, softness. when he finally gives in, he touches you with trembling hands, grabs your waist like you’re the last real thing he has, hides his face in your shoulder when he gets too close to crying.
gojo is a sub who craves intelligent dominance, not brute force. he wants someone who can read him, anticipate him, outmaneuver him. his mind is fast if yours is faster, he will follow you anywhere. when he feels you know how to handle him, not overwhelm him, he becomes dangerously loyal… and intensely aroused.
once he gives in, he gives in all the way. no half-measures. no guarded vulnerability. when he trusts you, he offers everything his body, his voice, his desire, his softness, his need. he clings, he seeks touch, he whines, he trembles, he presses his forehead to yours, and lets you see the lonely man beneath the myth: exhausted, yearning, starving for someone stronger than his empty, crushing solitude.
i was thinking about this so i wrote it... sub gojo nation enjoy (sorcerer gojo cuz i felt like it also reader is a mean!dom) dedicated to @junuru had to keep it short before it became too long hehe
looking down, you bask in the sight in front of you-- the so-called strongest sorcerer, whose eyes always glimmer with a sense of pride were filled with felt tears, vulnerably gazing back up at you. his bratty mouth that always ran with self-praising comments was busy, stuffed with a sillicone dildo that was securely harnessed to your strap-on. how ironic, you'd tease him, laughing sadistically, strongest sorcerer? oh satoru, look at you, you're sobbing like a bitch in heat.
"get it wet for when i fucked your ass, mkay?" you tell him, leaning back slightly, getting a better view of his semi-named frame. all that's left on him clothing wise are his grey boxers, that sit snuggly around his waist, a prominent wet spot right where the tip of his cock would be. his head moves as much as he can without choking too much, his eyes shutting tightly before he lets off, gasping for air.
you only laugh, holding the shaft of the dildo, shaking it a little, staring at how string after string of saliva clings to it. he looks so desperate, needy, whiny. his lips are pink, glossy and swollen. his pupils are dilated, lost in a lustful trance as you tell him what to do next, as if he isn't going to be a brat about it.
"show some appreciation, satoru." you say with a sense of faux-kindness. the tip is inching closer to his lips, "how many times has it made you cum, hm? too many to count i think."
he pouts, averting his gaze momentarily, letting out a little mutter: "y'know i don't like being told what to do."
this makes you smirk. "oh really?" shifting your foot slightly, it found it's spot against gojo's hidden dick, feeling how it throbbed under the your sole. nudging it slightly, the wet spot only got bigger. "this seems to suggest otherwise. now, be a good boy and do as i say."
needy!drunk!gojo satoru x gn reader-based off this post
synopsis: gojo is a lightweight, vowed to sobriety to keep whatever bit of shame he has left to his name. but he really can't help but take a few shots when he sees you doing the same.
warnings: sub gojo, gn dom reader, both reader and gojo are drunk, gojo's a lightweight, handjob, semi-public sex, he cries-like a lot, he also had nipple piercings bc i couldn't help myself, reader's kinda a hoe, feelings, think that's it
The warm press of hands against your hips is what makes you gasp. The soft touch of lips traced over your throat is what makes your head spin.
What a delightful feeling.
What a human desire.
“Touch me.”
The room spins around you, the warm feeling of being held making you sigh, leaning into it. The scent of him, the greedy claiming of his presence in your mind. So selfish. Of him not to think of the effect that this has on you. To not care about the war going on in your mind.
“Touch me, please?” A whine this time. A meek sound, spilling from his lips, making your body light up in return.
“Satoru,” He practically purrs at his name on your lips. Pathetic. How easily riled up he is. How easily you’re able to make his knees feel weak. How much he loves the sound of your lips forming his name.
“Mmmm, say it again.”His nose sweeps delicately over your neck, working over a heavy sigh as he tries not to get drunk on the smell of your shampoo. Or more drunk than he already is, that is.
“Your name?” You mutter slowly.
“Yeah….” His words have been gradually slurring over the span of the night, with the amount of shots he’s taken, with the amount of drinks he’s had. With the inches of space between you closing until there’s nothing between you but the thin layer of clothing that does nothing to hide the bulge he shamelessly presses against you.
Even so, you know that he's always been far beyond measures of shame, but this is a whole new level, the way he continues to press his body impossibly closer to yours, his broad chest against your shoulders, his hips canting against you.
You’ve always hated how he’s been taller than you, his incessant teasing when he throws you over his shoulder as you yell and pound on his back. He takes advantage of it all too often.
You don’t mind now.
“Why, Satoru?” Maybe you’re cruel for the teasing, for liking your friend’s reactions all too much. Shivering, nearly violently, throbbing against your lower back.
He whines, “Sounds so…-so much better when you say it. Makes me wanna just…”
His breath is heavy with the scent of alcohol and you’re still not entirely sure how Shoko and Suguru managed to get him to break his vow of sobriety. Not when you’d seen him turning them down for the first bit of the night.
The next time you saw him he was getting dragged along by you, gulping down whatever liquids you shoved into his hands.
With his feverish hands tracing up your body and his sinful hips pressing against yours. Muttering about how he wanted you and needed you, whispering about things he'd never have said in the harsh reality of day, but was that not the beauty of getting intoxicated beyond belief?
“Hmm? Just what?”
He simpers, “Wan’ you to touch me, play with me, like I’m just a toy for you~” He grinds slowly and you wish you could kiss him. Kiss him until he’s breathless and red and can’t remember his own name. Dazed and dizzy and muttering gibberish while loosely gripping onto you.
You don’t think if you’d even have to kiss him to do that right now, but the taste of his perfectly pink lips would just be an added pleasure to this delectable mix.
But you shouldn’t. And you won’t.
Not because he’s your friend and this will surely be crossing some unspoken line.
Or because it’ll throw off the axis of your entire friend group. You'd never let that stop you before. And you wouldn’t let something like that stop you now. Not when you've clumsily pressed your lips to Shoko’s, high out of your mind and hidden under the blanket of dark nights. Or when you let your hands wander along the lengths of Suguru’s skin, promising to make him feel things he’d never felt before.
Not because Satoru Gojo is one of your best friends.
But because Satoru Gojo is currently drunk and so are you. And despite the fact that you’re practically drowning in the warmth of alcohol and all that is Satoru Gojo, you want whatever you do with him to mean something-be something. Not just a clumsy night of drunken mistakes and hazy flashes, not something you’ll forget in the morning and agree to never speak of again.
He’s too…important for you to treat him like that. And you’re too selfish to let anything you do to him to mean anything but the fact that he would be yours. But he’s not yours. And you’re not his. And all this thinking is only making a steady ache build behind your temples.
You sigh, twisting around in his arms. Blue eyes blinking back at you, slowly searching over yours and fuck, his lips are so kissable. Pink and plump, trapped between his too white teeth.
“Let’s get you back to Shoko and Suguru, they’ll take you home and make sure you don’t kill yourself.” You’re not entirely sure where they went or why they’ve left the two of you behind, all alone where they'd know neither of you were in the right mind to make good choices.
“No,” He shakes his head, white hair tossing, ruffled and mussed from a night of clinging to you like this. Far too close for comfort though you still couldn’t bring yourself to pry him off. “No, n-no, don’t wan’you to leave…”
You begin to tug him off either way. He’s not sane enough to make decisions for himself and you don’t think you are either. “C’mon baby, let’s go find your friends.”
He shudders and grips your hand, refusing to move an inch. Tears pool in his eyes and your jaw hardens.
You sigh. You didn’t know why you thought this was a fight you’d win either way. It was a losing game trying to argue with Satoru. His lips wobble and you can feel your resolve withering away by the second. Tearing down every single defence you put up around, being ripped away by him and his stupid tears as if they were paper.
“Don’t leave.” He whispers and he looks pathetic but you know you’ll give in to him if he asks you to. “Don’t leave me…please.”
You cup his cheek and he purrs, melting into the touch as if he were a cat, pushing into you for more attention. Basking in your attention as you sweep his tears away with your thumb, letting him close his eyes and pull you into the soft cushioning of a booth.
You feel heady or maybe it’s the alcohol talking. More tears roll down his cheeks, tracking along the slopes of his flushed face. Crystalline and sacred and you realize with a twist in the pit of your stomach that it’s arousing.
The sight of him. His sweat-soaked skin and his eyes big and glassy. And the fragile mask he’s worked so hard to keep up deteriorating beneath your very eyes, each tear breaking and cracking apart the image of the powerful man he claims to be.
A crumpled facade of a God into a something more, something divine and corrupt, something vulnerable and weak and so very human in your arms, falling apart by a mere touch.
Maybe you’re more fucked up than you realized. Maybe you’re just horny. Maybe because it’s him. And he’s Satoru Gojo and everything about him is perfect. Powerful. Transcendent. A God against humans, finally falling apart like this, before you, ready to fall to his knees. Perhaps he was always meant to.
“Don’t wanna be alone…don’t wanna…ngh~”
His hips thrust up, a whiny gasp working past his lips. He pants as if he’s run a marathon and you want to do such delectably sinful things to him and you’re sure you could do them all and more and he’d only beg and plead for more.
Perhaps…
“Kiss me.”
Your heart thuds in your chest, you wonder if he can hear with how loud it is. “Satoru,”
He whines and grinds and you moan. And it’s a losing battle.
“Shut up,” he insists, hand cupping the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair, almost obsessively. “Shut up and just kiss me.”
“You know we can’t. You-“
“I, am perfectly fine.” His words are a pant, a plea, whispered with a kind of reverence of a worshipper to a god. “Just kiss me, fuck me. Use me,” white eyelashes flutter, blue looking all the bluer rimmed with red and filled with tears. “Use me until you’re bored of me, until there’s nothing left-i don’t care.” He breathes, desperate and pleading and looking like he’s ready to get down on his damn knees on the dirty sticky floor. “Just-please.”
A losing fucking battle.
Maybe it always was. Trying to keep your hands off him, now, you realized it was like setting a treat on a dogs nose and telling them to wait. A crazy amount self control with the eventual prize just in sight.
All you can think as you cup his cheeks, flushed and wet from tears, warm against your hands is how fucking pretty he is. How you want him more than you think you’ve ever wanted anything. “Fuck, Satoru,” you mutter and he moans deep and appreciatively and then you’re pulling him in to slide your lips against his.
And now all you can think about is how much of a dumbass you are for not doing this sooner.
He tastes like alcohol and cigarettes-when he had one you don’t know but you do know that it’s the most intoxicating mix you’ve ever encountered. You feel like you’re floating, high off his taste and his moans; like he’s a drug and you’re the addict, injecting him straight into the vein.
It's far from elegant and he’s not perfect at it in the way you’d expect from a man as beautiful as him-godhood hasn’t blessed him in every aspect. But he’s desperate and he's eager to take everything you give, mewling against your lips.
He’s so needy and it's crazy the way it sends you into a sort of reverie. His hands gripping your hips hard, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go, like he’s hoping you’re real and not a apparition of drunken hysteria. He pulls you closer, as if you could get close enough that no one could find where you ended and he started, that you might be able to meld into one.
You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same sentiment. If you didn’t try your hardest to do the exact same; nails pressing into his skin, making him whine as you tilted his head back and slipped your tongue into his mouth, exploring, feeling, taking, using.
Just like he told you to do.
He vibrates against you, nearly shaking with choked noises. He mutters soundless words, each and every one swallowed by you as soon as they’re spoken. Pleas and prayers, worships and praises.
You’d show him what real ascension felt like.
You probably should be embarrassed, or at the very least shameful to be putting on such a show in front of what you know are watching eyes. But you know that Gojo is far past shame at this point and you're too enamoured by the beauty that is Satoru Gojo clinging to you like he’s about to break.
To be honest, you can't find it in yourself to give a shit about any of them. About anything but him, focusing your attention on devouring him whole as he shatters, ready to catch every piece as they fall into your waiting hands. No matter if the shards rip apart your skin and leave you a bloody mangled mess.
You break away first, fighting a smile at his whine as you pull away from him, panting.
He looks unravelled, messy. His usual flirty facade lost to pleasure. His watery eyes and heartbroken whines gone as well. Overwhelmed by swollen lips and gasps to make up for lost air. A blush like he’s just realized where he is, burying his face into your neck to hide from the probing eyes. To whisper, "You're too good at that, you know?.”
You bark a laugh and he nuzzles into your skin.
And then you’re redirecting him to your lips again.
In a flurry of hands and lips, messy steps and you’re clumsily stumbling into the bathroom. Quickly, Satoru is shoved against the door, fingers fumbling for the lock.
Your lips find his neck, fluttering a barrage of open-mouthed kisses over the heated skin, dragging your tongue along his thrumming heartbeat.
He whines and he begs, muttering nonsense that makes it to your ears but not to your head as you hum against him. Slender fingers knit through your hair, holding you close to him, pleading for you to never leave him.
“Touch me, touch me, touch me.” He repeats, slurred and slow, his eyes drooped shut, his voice husky with want, with lust and everything he’s been just barely repressing all this time.
But you've only ever been a slave to his desires.
So you respond in tenfold, nipping and sucking, leaving evidence that you've been here, staking a claim that doesn't exist and maybe never will but for tonight maybe you can play pretend.
Because he keens when your teeth sink into his skin and his back arches, pressing evidence of his wanton yearnings against you like you might devour him whole.
Like he wants you to.
He quieter when he whispers something that could change everything. “Love me?”
Your heart pounds in your chest but you’d never turn him down.
Fingers deftly undo the buttons on his tight-fitting button up, revealing porcelain-like skin underneath. His nipples are hard and pink and fucking pierced.
He gasps when you touch them, pinching them between your thumb and forefinger.
And you've never been particularly mean but you can make an exception for the God in front of you, leaving him to tortuous touches all while he throbs and thrusts into nothing but the fabric of his too-tight pants, whining from the stimulation that's all too little.
He's been begging for this all night. Whispering dirty words like a little tease, like a shameless slut.
He got you all riled up and for that you think that he should take his own share of teasing.
For retribution, for your own piece of mind and the pleasure it is to watch him squirm against the wall, eyes squeezed shut and tearstained and begging in small breathless whimpers barely over a whisper.
But you've never been able to resist him long, not then, not now and not ever.
Your hand finally reaches for his waistband, his body shivering with the feeling of your fingers dipping onto hot, untouched skin.
But he stops you.
His hand, large and pale landing over your own in a quick moment of lucidity.
His voice emerged, a whisper of uncertainty and longing. "Y-You'll take care of me?"
You met his vulnerability with a promise because you could never leave him with any less. "Yes," your words a whispered caress, a undying oath in itself, a vow that you'd take beyond this in whatever may happen.
Your lips brush over his ear, his eyes squeezing shut as your hand wraps around him, dragging a ruinous moan from deep in his throat.
"I promise, I will."
And your hand is wrapping around him, hot and wet and hard, all for you. Just for you. And his head is turned off, just sensations and feeling and you.
Just you.
"F-fuck, yes, please," so broken, fragile almost as ironic as it is. "Yes, pl-please, feels so go-good."
He doesn't last long and you don't know if it's from all the teasing you've administered or from how long he's been worked up for.
But you rather like the thought of him being sensitive enough that your voice and a few strokes is enough to bring him to the edge.
To have him pulsing in your hand while his arms wrap around your shoulders, blunt nails scraping into you skin as his hips thrust with reckless abandon.
His body quivering with pleasure as your hand forms a loose hole for him to fuck into, your thumb playing with the sensitive head of his dick.
"Please, please I need it, need it so bad," And he has no right sounding this good, looking this good while fucking into your hand like a goddamn dog. "Need it more than anything."
He always has been one for dramatics.
His head falls back against the wall, throat bobbing with the moan deep in his throat, fuck how the marks of your teeth stand out on the pale skin of his neck. Your lips permanent on his body for now, forever maybe if he'll let you keep replacing them.
"Fuck, Satoru," You free hand threads through his head, pushing his lips to meet yours, messy and slopping as he arches against you, hips thrusting erratically to match your pace. Keening when you nip at him, teeth tugging at his bottom lip, nails scratching at his scalp sending tingles down every part of his body.
He breaks away with a gasp and a cry when and only when he absolutely has to, eyes shining and chest heaving with breaths to fill his burning lungs.
And he's crying. And he's beautiful.
More beautiful than anyone or anything you've ever seen in your life.
"Shit, I'm close, m' so fuckin' close-!"
You’re half out of your mind and you couldn’t feel more sane. Like this was meant to happen-like he was meant to be yours.
"Don' stop, please don't stop," he gasps, like you'd ever think about it, like you'd could even if you wanted to.
“Satoru,” And he shakes.
“Satoru,” And he sobs.
“Satoru,” And he breaks, head falling back as if in prayer, a finger pushing his chin up, clashing against a higher power he didn't think possible.
“My one and only Satoru.” Soft and sweet and just for him and only him. And he’s gone.
Ropes of cum spurt out, rope after rope, covering your hand and the floor. Covering his thighs and his stomach in a mess.
Everything feels fuzzy and his cheeks are pink. A stupid grin crossing his face as he melts, boneless in your arms. "I love you." He mutters, distantly, foggily.
Perhaps somewhere beneath the haze he thinks that maybe you've said the same back. But he isn't quite sure anymore. He needs to be sure.
Slowly, he's lowered onto the floor into a sitting position. The tile is cold against his bare skin but it's okay because you're still caressing him, holding his face in your hand, thumb wiping at his tears.
"You love me right?"
You leave for moment and a whines at the loss of you pressed against him. Even if it's only for a few seconds he feels lonely and empty without your touch.
But then you're back and you're wiping him down with a wet towel, cleaning off his skin so gently, as if he's made of glass of porcelain, like he something to be cherished and taken care of.
"Hey pretty boy, you good?" He recognizes your voice even throughout the cloud in his mind. He nods and you smile and he's melting all over again.
"Do you love me?"
You roll your eyes and for an awful second he thinks that maybe you're going to say no. But then you're pushing the hair off his forehead and kissing him so fucking gently he thinks he'll cry.
"I do love you Satoru."
And his heart is bursting-he swears it is, it's beating so fast and so hard he's absolutely sure that you can hear it and that the quiet laughs escaping your pretty lips is because you can tell how dumbly in love with you he is.
But that doesn't matter.
Because right now he's normal person and you're a normal person and nothing else will matter but the fact that he's your's now.
"I love you too, y'know?" He mumbles.
You kiss him again, and again, and again. On his forehead and his temples, his cheeks and the tip of his nose and each of his eyelids. You kiss everywhere on his face until his lips are pouted out and he lets out a little whine of frustration.
And then you kiss his lips. Barely a peck, too fast and short for his taste but he doesn't have time to complain as you pull him off the floor.
“C’mon pretty boy, let me bring you home.”
“Mmm,” He doesn’t move, boneless against you. “Will you fuck me again?”
You laugh, soft. “Like I’d be able to resist you.”
hear me out but … afab gojo slutting himself out by “accidentally” getting stuck in a hole in the wall (he only happens to be naked waist down and already prepped)
im hearing you out nonnie 📢‼️‼️
"What the fuck."
Satoru grinned at the other side as soon as he heard you, the trail of lube coming out of his pussy continued to gush and drip as it twitched from the cold air touching the warm flesh.
Of course, you were surprised— hell, even 'surprised' was an understatement. Yet, you couldn't help but gaze at his lower part, naked lower part, and then there was amusement reflected on your face. "What are you on now, huh?"
He clenched his ass, pussy throbbing from anticipation as soon as you rubbed his pink numb. His clit becoming more sensitive from your ministrations. Come on, I know you want this, sweetheart. he'd wiggle his ass for you to fit your cock inside his loose hole. The dangerous, sinful sounds of his wet, messy pussy drove you mad.
You then aggressively tugged him apart and then layed your tongue flat against his cunt. Hot juices of his pussy leaving your soft muscle a sweet taste, diving further into his hole and then licking a stripe as you ate him lile a fucking starved man.
He continued to drench your chin with his fluids, the intimate contact left his legs trembling again and again, strings of cum visible between his pussy to your mouth.
"Mmmh, is this a-all you got?" the gut feeling of just eating out his audacity roughly seemed rather tempting, but you had to restraint yourself for that. Satoru's body twitched with every lap, thighs shook due to how harsh you're treating his sweet cunt, and then there was that bump.
"Nghh ah!"
He shot his eyes open, nails digging hard into the wall as he waited to finally cum. He waited, and waited. And waited. But it wasn't there, it never came out. Tears began to swell up due to how you handled him, he felt a sharp pain on his hips when you gripped him tighter.
"I was so close, so close! You just had to be a bitch and take it fro— anMff?!"
"Baby, who do you think started this at the first place?" he moaned as he felt a sudden pain on his pussy lips. No, you did not just— "Ah!" whines came out naturally from his lips, eyes blurry from how much slaps he got against his cunt.
"Come on, I asked you a question," he kept unmoving, tired body already giving up if it wasn't for your arms holding his hips. The tip of your index and middle exploring his sensitive flesh, tracing circles around his warmth until it reaches his— he felt you lift his hood up and then realization came. You perverted ass, you can't—
"Ahn! mmf it's m-me. I started thi— keukk!"
He had to bite his lower lips until it bled, his sensitive bud exposed and numb from the harsh slap it received. Fuck, it fucking hurts so much. Big fat tears left his eyes swollen as he started to keep his thighs close. Hips wiggling out of your touch, but no, he gave you a taste— that fucking sinful, desire to ruin such strong, respectable man.
You positioned your knee between his prying legs, making contact with his wet pussy that left your pants damp. "That's it, good boy."
Suddenly, cum splattered down to his abdomen, and then in between your and his own thighs— some even got into the wall. His eyes rolled right back his head as he felt something big and thick rip him apart. You continued to slide your cock inside back and forth, each thrusts plunging deep and hits every nook and canny of his sensitive walls.
The sloppy and aggressive movements becoming more eager and desperate to dive in the overwhelming warmth. His hole then throbbed and milks the fuck out of you. Balls hitting his fat mounds as you kept an aggressive pace and relieve your frustrations through those onslaughts.
" Ah, ah, ah mmf!" you continued to ram your swelled up cock inside his cunt, releasing all your cum all nice and deep inside. The glorious man below then squirted against the wall, feeling his insides getting filled up with so much cum, yet still hard.
He had to keep himself from passing out as you forced his entrance open again for your throbbing cock. Breath heavy and panting from how rough you're handling him.
Satoru cried out loud for all to hear from the hard fuck he's receiving. Nails dug deeper into his skin as you plunged your length again and again. His ass sensitive and red from your rough pounding.
He couldn't take it anymore. The pain grew as his consciousness began to fall as his pussy got owned up and taken. Drools and bodily fluids continued to drip, brain no longer functioning to even realize you filled him up again. And continued to do so as soon as black started to consume him.
You should've realized how dangerous this is, Toru. You hummed, cock railing his puffy cunt warm and sticky, and then plunging deep inside his warmth. You should've realized that you were like a fleeting drug to me.
had my third cup of coffee today while writing filth 🕺
Warnings: Sub! Gojo, Fem? reader (no pronouns just use of names: mommy and mama), unreleastic portrayal of sub space, mentions of BDSM (rough treatment, degradation,whips, mistress/master use), safeword use (at the end), lots of cooing, Gojo unable to think properly, praise, comfort, clingy/needy Gojo
A/N: this was actually really fun to write! i did a little research on what subspace feels like, and it says it varies from person to person, but it is a sort of euphoric experience. sooo idk! lol. also, a lot of ppl r here for gojos personality, and I feel bad bc he is not like his usual self in this bc of his headspace...dont hate me gojo simps
Gojo Satoru is kinky. Plain and simple. He has tried many different things throughout his lifetime, and he is now confident enough in many different types of sexual play. He spends way too much time on the internet buying all sorts of toys, cuffs, ropes, whips, just to build his secret obsession. He has been with many people, and has always pulled them down to the dark side with him.
But through it all, he has never found a partner to really push him to his limits. They all get too scared to hurt him, and call their safeword too early. They get uncomfortable when he sobs for mercy, or in other situations, begs for more pain. Gojo doesn't want to be just treated harshly, he wants to be broken. His standards are higher than most.
And finally his dreams came true when he met you. You've been into BDSM for years now, and even if the two of you are dating, you have a strict contract of rules you must obey for eachothers safety. It was cute, he was practically trembling in excitement when he saw the agreement, signing his hame sloppily, and waiting for your next move.
It was strange seeing someone so cheery and upbeat turn into a different breed during a scene. He was long passed the brat now, every defining thought fucked out of him. He's been slapped around, beaten, scolded, forced to orgasm, and humiliated in the past two hours. He has never had anyone treat him this rough.
A huge part of him loved it, and a small part of him twinged in fear whenever he heard you begin to move again. It sent a multitude of thoughts to his brain, What now? Are you going to hurt him? Was he being good now? Another punishment?
His blue eyes follow your every movement, and he flinches when you bring your hand up to his face, expecting another slap. You chuckle at the movement, gently petting his face. It takes him a second to realize what is happening, but from there, he melts into your hold. He presses himself deeper into your hand, eyes heavy from exhaustion.
Satoru accomplished his goal though. He was, for the first time ever, wrecked. His hair is matted against his head, damp from sweat. His body is covered in hickeys, bitemarks, bruises, scratches, and marks from the flogger. He was trembling, muscles contracting every couple of seconds without permission. Drools coats his lips, and it starts to drip down his mouth and onto his chin. His eyes seem to be in a different world, cloudy, and half lidded. His cock lays spent against his thigh, flushed red, and leaking just the last of his cum.
But even through it all, he's smiling at you. It’s a fucked out sort of grin, lazy, but content. His cheek is pressed against your palm, and he's nuzzling into it, basking in the softness of your touch, contrasting your earlier actions. “There ya go. You doing all right, Satoru?”
He blinks at you, slow, and thoughtless. “Yeah.”
You climb onto the bed next to him, brushing his hair back affectionately, and a little worriedly. He looked rather beat, and his exhausted eyes made you want to end the session now. “Alright, lets clean you up, and get you to bed,” You soothe, hands rubbing at his thighs, hoping your touch brings him comfort.
Immediately he pulls away, a small pout on his face. “Noooooo,” He uncharacteristically whines, grabbing at your hand. “Wanna…Wanna go some more. I'm doing good, right Mommy? No more punishments,” He pleads, tears coating his eyes. “Reward. Wanna reward, pleaseeee.”
Mommy wasn't todays title. You were called mistress, and master today solely. His words made your eyes widen, and you instantaneously knew he was deep into the subspace. You've seen glimpses of it, the way he becomes uncharacteristically obedient and he gets slightly giggly, probably from the light headed feeling, but he looked deep into his now. His words dragged out, and his body was obviously spent, but still he craved your approval; he wanted nothing more than to please you now.
Affection, love and care is what he needs right now and you were happy to provide him with it. So, you straddle his lap, and place kisses on every surface you can touch. His body is warm, and he goes slack against your hold, mouth falling open. “Do you want to cum again, ‘toru? Or just attention?”
He goes silent for awhile, his mind hazy, and not liking the idea of making his own choice. He wanted you to take care of him completely, to let his mind slip away, and for you to control his ever thought, movement. “Please,” He mumbles, face scrunching up with frustration.
You are quick to apologize, recognizing his situation almost instantly. “Alright, alright. I'll take care of you. Lets cum one more time, can you do that for me, pretty boy?”
Pretty boy. A nickname unlike the harsh ones he received earlier: brat, slut, dog, whore. In the moment it only increased to turn him on, but now, he wanted to be good. The thought of you calling him those names made him want to tear up, and sob into your arms. He didn't want you to be mean anymore, he wants you to love him. To praise him on anything and everything.
He jumps when he feels your hand drift back to his cock. It aches from all the abuse from earlier, and he lets out a shaky whimper, not liking the pain as much as he once did. “H-Hurts,” He yelps, wishing for you to make it better. To fix it all, why did everything ache so badly? He wants comfort, and as quickly as possible.
You kiss at his tears and pull his face into your neck. “‘m sorry. Was Mommy too rough with you today? Shhh, it’ll feel better in a bit, just relax,” You encourage, beginning to slide your hand up and down his length. He twitches and mewls from beneath you, fighting the feeling of overstimulation and pleasure. He wants this, he wants this, he wants this so badly, but he wishes it wasn't so uncomfortable.
He shakes his head into your neck, “Wasn't too rough. I'm fine, Mama j-just make me feel better, please,” he whispers, voice hoarse, and soft. One of your hands pet his hair, while the other strokes him off, shushing his cries, and reassuring that he will feel better soon.
You were right of course, the pain of overstimulation died off, and Gojo felt like he was melting. Everything is so warm, so light, he feels like he was on cloud nine. He feels loved, and every loose thought was traced back to you. “Love you s-so much.”
You grin at him, pressing your lips to his. His lips are chapped from his excessive panting, but you don't mind, licking at the plush flesh. He whimpers and groans, his hands pawing at you to pull you impossibly closer. When you pull back, he follows you, letting out a small huff in complaint. You pepper his face with kisses in apology. “Love you too. Such a good boy, Satoru, I'm so lucky to have such a pretty boy.”
He withers under the praise, nodding his head dumbly. He wants to coax so more out of you, but he can't think of ways, so he just rest his head on your chest, and chants, “Mommy” on repeat.
Your hand is slow in pace, careful to not overwhelm him. It slides up and down easily, his previous cum acting as lube. His cock is bright red, and you almost feel bad for it after pulling so many orgasms from it earlier. You are suprised he is still even awake, sure, he looks and acts exhausted, but by this long he is usually passed out. He must be awake only because he is searching for praise and comfort from earlier. To not find himself in a sub drop.
You catch his eye, and a wobbly smile pulls at his face. You chuckle at him, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Whaddya want from me?” He asks, voice cracking in the middle of the sentence.
“Hmm?”
He taps his forehead against yours, hazy blue eyes staring into yours. “Wanna command. Wanna be useful for you.”
You smile warmly at him and he shivers, leaning up to kiss you again. You hand rubs over his small slit, and he gasps, pausing just centimeteres before you face, and moaning out.
“You are deep in this, aren't you sweet boy?” You murmur, mostly to your self, slightly astonished. It was one thing for him to ask for praise, and to make decisions for him, but actively seeking instructions from you was another. It was fascinating, and adorable to say the least, how desperately he craved approval, or wanted to feel needed, useful. Nothing how Gojo usually was like.
You thumb at his tip, and he heaves, trying to keep up with your words. But everything you say other than “sweet boy,” seems to tuned out. Everything feels blurry, expect for you face, and your sickenly sweet tone. “D-Don't understand. Please!”
“Okay, shhh, it's alright. I want you to cum for me. Can you cum for Mommy, Satoru? That's all I want you to do.” An easy command, one he can definitely fulfill. He can do that – he can definitely cum for you. Gojo feels his chest bloom with butterflies at the idea of what you'll say to him once he follows your wishes. How much praise he will receive. How good and useful he is being. It makes him shiver with excitement.
Your hand picks up speed when he nods, and he gasps, gripping onto your arms from the suddenness. His hips buck upward into the makeshift hole, and you coo at him, telling him to relax his hips. He abides without question, melting into the sheets, and you give him a kiss for a reward.
He feels himself begin to teeter along his high, and he glances up at you, eyes wide and slightly panicked. He needs to ask for approval, he has to ask to cum, the rules were basically engrained in him, but everything is spinning, and he's beginning to feel overwhelmed by the intensity of the pressure. He feels his voice go dry, and tears begin to pool in his eyes at the prospect of disappointing you.
You take notice of his fearful face immediately, quickly leaning over to cup his face. “You can cum. Relax, hey, its alright, I want you to cum.”
He breathes a shaky sign of relief, and you wipe his tears away, thinking back to earlier of how you wiped his tears away from the ruthless pleasure/pain mix, and now simply because he was afraid that he wasn't able to ask permission before cumming. You would be lying if the power didnt get to your head.
You thoughts are cut off when Gojos entire body jerks, and a muffled, “Fuck!” is let out. His orgasm hits him like a truck, and he trembles, riding the waves. His voice is too scratchy to let out any real noise, so he just silently cries into your chest. Cum dribbles down his cock pathetically, obviously spent, and not having much left to give. You don't seem to notice it though, instead focusing on your lover, and trying to make his orgasm as pleasurable as possible.
When he comes down from it, his legs are shaking, and his eyes are hooded with exhaustion. “P-Plea–Coconut,” He weakly gets out, and you hands fly off his body in seconds from hearing the safety word. You pull away, hoping to not overwhelm him, but instead he clings to you. “Don’t go. Don’t go. Mommy, I can't. J-Just–I…Praise!” He splutters, coherent thoughts flying out of his head, as he slumps into the bed.
You nod, staying away from his cock, and instead placing his head into your lap. His body curls around you in seconds, still slightly trembling. “Did so well. Good boy Satoru. My good boy, I am so spoiled. So lucky to have you." You coo, reaching your hand up to run it through his matted hair. "Took everything so well. I'm so proud of you." A small smile pulls at his face, and everything feels so warm "I love you so much, you know that?”
“Hm,” He hums, nodding his head slightly.
You smile at him. “My perfect boy. It's time to go to sleep, I'll take care of everything. Just rest for me, that's all I need you to do.”
But he didn't even hear the last of your statements, already passed out onto you, his chest rising and falling from his heavy breathes.
You sigh, and stare affectionately at the man. His naked body littered in marks, and he still managed to sleep contently with them. His body was drained of everything. Just like he asked you to do so hours prior.
Your hands roam the nightstand, grabbing healing cream, bandages, and a wash cloth. And with one last sigh, you place Gojo's head onto the pillow, and begin the long process of cleaning him up.
