☹

when a man collides with being divine, he comes to a point of seeking to be beaten at his own level. to be reminded what's his place in being human, a man. a thing. you can do no such feat. well, not in a way the strongest sorcerer could ever be dissected or destroyed. but... you excel at bending him over, tied hands and smart mouth shut in obedience. for one night, he pretends to lose control, having no choice but to listen and follow you. no strings attached or so he says.

the game is fun, it rounds the edge of gojo's mind for a while. it happens every friday, not a single exception. it is the day when you are the most exhausted from work, merciless and absolute best to fuck. a bit rougher, a bit looser into cruelty for a good time.

and wherever gojo goes, you will follow as long as he has more dollars to throw than problems.

he meets you within the condo where you live. you share a glass of white wine with overpriced meals and gifts he brought during the ride home. home, what an amusing wording for this little deal. there is no love, no honesty. a well done act to some, an obligation to others. the second you confirm the payment, you take the form of a wet dream. black dress that opens on the side, stilettos that kiss your ankles like snakes. you are gorgeous, you are vile.

the best thing he's ever laid eyes on. and god did he see things in this world.

(...)

gojo satoru is on his knees, hands ties behind in red ropes with his pretty face tilted up. his dress shirt has half of its buttons undone. even on the ground, he has the audacity to be truly irritable and cocky.

“don't hold back on me, dearest.” your eyes shine with promise at his words. money makes you an amazing actress. but one doesn't need acting skills to slap gojo's cheek twice. “i never allowed you to speak.” the remark is cold, your smile all deep red and passionate above your plaything's tensed body. his playfulness is no more, little pout showing after being scolded. good boy.

gojo satoru is beautiful when frustrated by words, wounded by pride. you rub the sole of your heel to his dick, brushes and drag the stiletto like a threat. he breathes out his surprise, dark leather pants already straining under the growing hard on. a miserable god turned on by violence. how very typical. every sassy comment and misbehaviour earns him a press, a slap, skin warm from assault. he smiles through half of it, hips taunt with want as he crawls a little closer. just enough for your knee to tap his sternum, the tip of your foot hurting so good you know he sees stars. “ah, babe you're so. so good. i like it when you're mean..”

when he moans lower, drool pearling at his mouth... this time, your hand is a caress to wipe away both the lipstick and prickling pain. you might act all mighty and in control but warmth pools between your legs, sticky with want at seeing the strongest sorcerer being a mess thanks to you. “i know baby… and to tell you the truth i'd let you ruin me too, i'd follow you blind. but you do not desire to be followed, not here. you want to be ruined stupid. and you're my stupid pretty boy, aren't you? gojo-kun.”

disgusting. the words make him shiver, the leather on his skin suddenly too tight, too hot and bothersome. a whine escapes gojo's soft, swollen mouth. he's cute like this. you feel desire curl a heated fist in your guts once more. he wants so much, he wants the whole world or nothing. you are almost everything, a silk tie in your hand, a heel pressing the shameful erection of your boy. he hisses like branded by hot iron, the string of saliva rolling down his chin in pure irritation. “oh love.... you're rough. don't stop. don't stop. ah.. don't stop. please?” it's not enough.

it's never enough.

you know him as a greedy man after all.

“hmmm satoru. let's say, hypothetically, i was to make you cum until it breaks you… what would happen to the world? does it look like i want my life to go down the drain for you?” your hand embraces gojo's neck in a firm hold, tight enough to stutter the breath out of his trembling lips. the black heel only presses harder, pretty blue eyes behind the blindfold rolling up in a sad attempt to reach cloud nine. “you're so pathetic, satoru, never forget that you’re mortal and my little fuck toy.” you breathe out the insult before kissing him deep, wet and messy in the shared lust. you kiss him until your lungs burn, a wish to suffocate his cute little sounds.

he comes right there and then.

and gojo will crawl back to you next friday night.

you're crying, fat tears running down your face as you whine and moan for him. his pace is steady, not too fast nor too slow. the mushroom tip of his cock hitting all of the perfect places inside of you.

"didn't think you'd actually be into this— fuck-" he groans into your ear, and you have to bite his arm hard enough to leave marks in order to stop yourself from screaming right then and there.

"y'er close, huh? gonna cum for me?" he asks, although he doesn't expect an answer from you. he knows you're too fucked out to form a proper thought right now, let alone speak.

his hips pick up their pace, his arm tightening around your neck just a bit as you both near your breaking points. at this point, you're already screaming, babbling incoherently as you finally finish, your release covering both the desk and your boyfriend's lower body.

he lets out a noise of approval from the back of his thoat, biting your earlobe in a pathetic attempt to silence himself as he pulls out just in time of his orgasm, painting your ass and thighs white.

he slowly lets his arms drop from your neck, instead guiding them to wrap around you from behind as you both struggle to catch your breath.

"kinky little thing." he teases you, pressing a gentle kiss into the crook of your neck.​

:: hoshina soshiro, narumi gen (kaiju no.8); suna rintaro, miya atsumu, oikawa tooru, sugawara kōshi, a lot of them tbh.. (haikyuu); haitani rindou, haitani ran, kurokawa izana, mitsuya takashi (hear me out.) sano manjiro, kokonoi hajime (tokyo revengers); itoshi sae, hiori yo (shitty little sadist ilhsm), chigiri hyoma, itoshi rin(?), otoya eita ig? (blue lock); shinazugawa sanemi, tomioka giyuu, akaza, muzan kibutsuji (kimetsu no yaiba), and your favs!!

when a man collides with being divine, he comes to a point of seeking to be beaten at his own level. to be reminded what's his place in being human, a man. a thing. you can do no such feat. well, not in a way the strongest sorcerer could ever be dissected or destroyed. but... you excel at bending him over, tied hands and smart mouth shut in obedience. for one night, he pretends to lose control, having no choice but to listen and follow you. no strings attached or so he says.

the game is fun, it rounds the edge of gojo's mind for a while. it happens every friday, not a single exception. it is the day when you are the most exhausted from work, merciless and absolute best to fuck. a bit rougher, a bit looser into cruelty for a good time.

and wherever gojo goes, you will follow as long as he has more dollars to throw than problems.

he meets you within the condo where you live. you share a glass of white wine with overpriced meals and gifts he brought during the ride home. home, what an amusing wording for this little deal. there is no love, no honesty. a well done act to some, an obligation to others. the second you confirm the payment, you take the form of a wet dream. black dress that opens on the side, stilettos that kiss your ankles like snakes. you are gorgeous, you are vile.

the best thing he's ever laid eyes on. and god did he see things in this world.

(...)

gojo satoru is on his knees, hands ties behind in red ropes with his pretty face tilted up. his dress shirt has half of its buttons undone. even on the ground, he has the audacity to be truly irritable and cocky.

“don't hold back on me, dearest.” your eyes shine with promise at his words. money makes you an amazing actress. but one doesn't need acting skills to slap gojo's cheek twice. “i never allowed you to speak.” the remark is cold, your smile all deep red and passionate above your plaything's tensed body. his playfulness is no more, little pout showing after being scolded. good boy.

gojo satoru is beautiful when frustrated by words, wounded by pride. you rub the sole of your heel to his dick, brushes and drag the stiletto like a threat. he breathes out his surprise, dark leather pants already straining under the growing hard on. a miserable god turned on by violence. how very typical. every sassy comment and misbehaviour earns him a press, a slap, skin warm from assault. he smiles through half of it, hips taunt with want as he crawls a little closer. just enough for your knee to tap his sternum, the tip of your foot hurting so good you know he sees stars. “ah, babe you're so. so good. i like it when you're mean..”

when he moans lower, drool pearling at his mouth... this time, your hand is a caress to wipe away both the lipstick and prickling pain. you might act all mighty and in control but warmth pools between your legs, sticky with want at seeing the strongest sorcerer being a mess thanks to you. “i know baby… and to tell you the truth i'd let you ruin me too, i'd follow you blind. but you do not desire to be followed, not here. you want to be ruined stupid. and you're my stupid pretty boy, aren't you? gojo-kun.”

disgusting. the words make him shiver, the leather on his skin suddenly too tight, too hot and bothersome. a whine escapes gojo's soft, swollen mouth. he's cute like this. you feel desire curl a heated fist in your guts once more. he wants so much, he wants the whole world or nothing. you are almost everything, a silk tie in your hand, a heel pressing the shameful erection of your boy. he hisses like branded by hot iron, the string of saliva rolling down his chin in pure irritation. “oh love.... you're rough. don't stop. don't stop. ah.. don't stop. please?” it's not enough.

it's never enough.

you know him as a greedy man after all.

“hmmm satoru. let's say, hypothetically, i was to make you cum until it breaks you… what would happen to the world? does it look like i want my life to go down the drain for you?” your hand embraces gojo's neck in a firm hold, tight enough to stutter the breath out of his trembling lips. the black heel only presses harder, pretty blue eyes behind the blindfold rolling up in a sad attempt to reach cloud nine. “you're so pathetic, satoru, never forget that you’re mortal and my little fuck toy.” you breathe out the insult before kissing him deep, wet and messy in the shared lust. you kiss him until your lungs burn, a wish to suffocate his cute little sounds.

he comes right there and then.

and gojo will crawl back to you next friday night.