Gojo NSFW 🤍
"Control Me" Gojo fic Tags: Fem!Reader! Sub!Gojo! Overstimulation! OrgasmDenial! Begging(Gojo)! Edging! Creampie! LightChoking! Word Count: 1.3k Note: I just like subby gojo more. Kind of brainrot? (not the skibidi toilet type) divider: @/enchanthings-a
The blindfold’s still hanging loose around his neck, half-forgotten in his desperation.
He’s flushed pink all the way up to his ears, lashes fluttering with every shaky breath as you keep your hand around his throat. Not squeezing—just resting there. Just enough to remind him who’s in control.
“Please,” he pants, hips twitching up from the bed, desperate for friction. “Been good. Haven’t touched myself in days, I swear.”
“Didn’t ask,” you say, voice calm. Cruel. He whines.
Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer in the world, reduced to a squirming, needy mess under you. Sprawled across the sheets like a dream undone. Shirt half off. Sweat dampening his hair. Cock flushed and leaking against his stomach. You’ve edged him twice already—and he’s trembling.
“Thought you liked being in control,” you murmur at his ear.
He chokes on a laugh, breathless. “I do. Just... not right now. Not with you.”
His voice drops, rasps. “Want you to ruin me.”
You do.
You slide down between his legs, licking a slow stripe up the underside of his cock. He gasps, thighs twitching, one hand fisting the sheets.
“Ah—f-fuck—” He arches when you take the head into your mouth, tongue swirling, watching him through your lashes. That cocky grin he always wears? Gone. Replaced by something real. Raw. His bottom lip trembles. He’s biting it, trying not to cry out.
You pull off with a soft pop—and he actually whimpers.
“Satoru,” you say softly, “use your words.”
“I wanna come,” he whines, hips bucking. “Please. Feels so full, I can’t—just let me—please, please, I’ll do anything—”
You reach up and slap his thigh lightly. He moans.
“Stay still.”
He nods quickly. “Yes. Yes. I’ll be good. I’ll behave. Just please—”
When you finally sink down on his cock, slow and tight and hot, his whole body shudders. His fingers grip your hips like he’ll fall apart if he doesn’t hold on.
“Oh my god. Oh my god. You feel so good.”
You ride him with a slow, deliberate grind, watching him come undone. His head’s thrown back, throat bared, sweat glistening on his chest. The kinds of sounds you never thought you’d hear from him—soft, needy, desperate—fill the room.
You drag your nails down his chest, watching his muscles twitch beneath your touch. His cock twitches too, still sheathed inside you, unbelievably hard despite everything you’ve already done to him. He’s sensitive—you can tell. Every grind of your hips makes his mouth fall open like he’s about to cry.
“S-So close,” he breathes. Eyes wet. Voice catching. “Please let me come. I’ll do anything.”
Your hips roll slower. Deeper.
“Anything?” you murmur, trailing your fingers up his chest, wrapping around his throat again.
He nods so fast it's pathetic. His hands tremble on your thighs. “Yes. Fuck, yes. Just wanna come inside you. Been dreaming about it. Waking up hard and aching and thinking about your cunt. Please, let me fill you up, let me make you feel it—”
You clench around him.
He gasps, loud, like the air got knocked from his lungs.
“God, you're so tight,” he moans. “You're gonna make me—fuck, I can't—”
“You’re not allowed to come until I say so,” you say, dragging your hips back with cruel slowness. “You want to fill me up? Beg for it.”
“Please. Please, baby, let me come in you. Let me fuck it deep, let me feel you milk me dry. You’re so warm, so wet, you’re perfect, I’ll be good—I'll behave, I swear, I’ll be such a good boy for you—”
You cut him off by grinding hard against him, your clit catching on the ridge of his pelvis, and he cries out. Loud. Uncontrolled. Desperate.
"You sound so pretty when you're desperate," you whisper, leaning down to press your mouth to his ear. "So much for the strongest sorcerer."
He whimpers.
One of his hands flies up to your waist, the other fisting the sheets. He’s trying to hold back. You can feel it in the way he trembles under you. His cock throbs inside you, his body stiff with tension as he fights not to spill.
“Please,” he whispers again, raw and reverent. “Let me come for you. Let me fill you up. Let me make a mess—”
You pull him into a kiss just as you grind down hard again, and his mouth opens helplessly against yours. You can feel it in the way he trembles under you. His cock throbs inside you. His whole body tense, fighting not to spill.
You don’t let him finish.
You swallow the rest of his begging with your tongue, kissing him hard—wet and messy, biting his bottom lip until he moans into your mouth. His hands scramble at your hips, fingertips pressing into the flesh like he’s trying to ground himself, like he’s going to float out of his body if he doesn’t anchor himself to you.
And you’re not even close to done with him.
You roll your hips again, deeper this time, deliberately grinding your clit against the base of his cock. The friction sparks through your body like electricity. You shiver. He breaks.
“F-fuck,” he sobs, thighs twitching beneath you. “Please—I can’t—I’m so close, I’m right there, please let me come—”
You pull back just enough to look at him.
He’s a fucking mess.
Hair plastered to his forehead, mouth swollen from your kiss, sweat beading down his neck. His eyes are glassy, barely focused, lashes fluttering as he looks up at you like you hung the stars. You drag your hips forward again, slow and filthy, and watch his jaw drop, a high, helpless moan spilling out of him.
"You gonna cry for me, Satoru?" you whisper, voice like velvet wrapped around a knife. "Is that how bad you wanna come?"
His head tips back, exposing the long line of his throat. “Yes. Yes, I’ll cry—I'll do anything—just don’t stop, please don’t stop—”
He’s babbling now. Barely coherent. You can feel the way he’s pulsing inside you, how close he is to coming just from being inside you, no hands, no rhythm—just you using him like a toy.
“You sound pathetic,” you murmur, grinding down hard, pinning his hips to the bed when they jerk up. “And you love it, don’t you?”
His hands fist the sheets again, white-knuckled.
“I do,” he chokes. “I fucking do, just—please, let me come, let me fill you up, I need to feel it, I need to feel you take it—”
You don’t answer.
You ride him harder.
Your own breath starts to hitch now, the drag of him so deep inside you, hitting perfectly with every roll of your hips. Your clit throbs against his skin, slick dripping down where your bodies meet, making every grind messier, wetter. The sound of it—skin on skin, your cunt squelching around his cock—fills the room, filthy and raw.
He’s shaking under you. His heels are digging into the mattress. His chest rises and falls in shallow, panicked bursts.
“I’m gonna come,” he gasps, voice cracking. “Please, I need—”
“Not yet,”
He lets out something between a sob and a moan, head tossing side to side.
“I can’t—I can’t hold it—fuck, fuck, you’re gonna make me—”
“Then take it,” you say, leaning in to kiss him again, slow and deep. “Come for me, baby. Ruin yourself for me.”
He shatters.
The second you give him permission, his body tenses under you, his back arching as he cries out your name—loud, needy, broken. His cock jerks inside you, thick spurts of cum spilling deep, and he clings to you like it’s the only thing keeping him from floating away.
You keep moving.
Keep grinding through it as he trembles and moans, oversensitive and twitching, cock still pulsing helplessly inside you. You don’t stop until his voice goes hoarse, until his hands go limp, until he’s gasping like he can’t catch his breath.
And even then, you’re not done.
Not until your cunt’s full of his cum, dripping out of you.
The End (?)🤍
