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apokolyps · 2 years

Text

Look at me, trying to write more bc it's good for you. This is a response to a prompt I saw a while back, kinda lost the original prompt but eh

Masterlist

Non-sexual nudity tw, non con touching tw, non con stripping tw

Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs as Whumper slowly descended into the basement, wearing their customary steel-toed boots. Their Whumpee shuddered and pulled himself up into a kneeling position before them as they approached.

“Awe,” Whumper said with a lazy grin, hands held behind their back, “don’t you look pretty all ready for me?”

Whumpee held their tongue, staring straight ahead as Whumper sauntered over. He really was a stubborn one. Tonight should help with that. Whumper gave them a salacious once over and licked their lips at the plethora of colored bruises decorating Whumpee’s shirtless form. He really was gorgeous like this.

Whumper moved in a slow circle around Whumpee, drinking in the bold colors contrasting with pale skin. The coarse brown rope bound Whumpee’s wrists behind his back, leaving them red and raw. The dirt from the concrete floor, smudged across Whumpee’s body, hiding bruises and highlighting a ruggedness to Whumpee that Whumper loved probably too much. Gorgeous.

Whumper really wanted to add to the canvas with a thick cane or perhaps their own fists, but alas, places to be and people to see.

They stopped in place behind Whumpee, watching them twitch in anticipation and very well hidden fear. That defiance was undoubtedly playing behind his eyes, smothered by resignation and a significnat amount of self preservation. Delicious.

With a gentle grip they carded their fingers through his greasy, unkept hair. Testing just how compliant their Darling was going to be today. He didn’t pull back this time, that was good, they would hate to have to drag this part out now. He kept still, resigned. Resignation from their Darling was always so perfect. They were just in that sweet spot before they break. They might even beg soon.

Perfect.

They could sit here for hours, just petting and watching their Darling grind his teeth together, trying to school his emotions. Because he knew this was far, far better than being beaten bloody. The war of revulsion playing across his face was almost as good as hearing him scream.

But they had places to be, and Darling here was going to be perfect for tonight.

They slowed the hand in his hair, grabbed a fistfull of the filthy strands, and pulled his head back slowly. He could fight, maybe get them to release his scalp. He might even get a lick or two of his own in before Whumper could subdue him.

Whumpee would have, early on. He would never let them touch him without three beatings and two days withought sleep.

Now though, now the threat of what could happen helps him make it through what is. Now he lets them stroke his hair, pull his head back and bare his throat. Now he closes his eyes, grits his teeth and undoubtedly plays: it could be worse, on repeat in his mind. Perfect.

They pull Whumpee’s head back until he was staring at the ceiling, eyes alight with fury and shaded by fear.

“Stay.”

Whumper released Whumpee’s skull and he kept it in the position Whumper left him in.

“Good boy,” crooned Whumper as they strode across the room and selected a length of rope attached to a carabiner clip. Whumpee had taken to staying as silent as possible during these sessions, not talking or engaging with Whumper. It was cute how he tried to shut them out while remaining compliant.

“You’ve been such a good boy lately,” they said as they turned around, “That I think you’ll be perfect for tonight.” They returned to Whumpee, and kelt behind them while they fastened the rope around Whumpee’s neck, looped around his bound wrists, and attached the clip to the D-ring set into the concrete nearly underneath him.

They stepped back and around Whumpee, admiring their bobbing adam’s apple and exposed throat. In this position, they would be completely unable to lean forward or straighten. He might be able to get their feet out from underneath himself and get into a more comfortable position. But doing so would only earn Whumpee one hell of a punishment.

XXX

Whumpee’s face and neck burned red with the humiliation of being so vulnerable and on display for Whumper. He shifted uncomfortably in his restraints, testing them as much as he was trying to shift half a milimeter into a position that wouldn’t hurt, one where his ribs weren’t broken and his shoulders didn’t throb and where that god damned rope wasn’t digging into his windpipe and forcing him to lean back.

He wouldn’t be able to hold this position for very long, but he doubted he was going to be left in a stress position overnight again, not with Whumper’s talk of tonight. Somehow, he thinks that he would prefer to be whipped bloody than go through what is planned for tonight.

He heard Whumper walk over to the side of the room and squeezed his eyes shut.

The sink was along that wall.

He found himself trembling and forced himself to still before Whumper started cooing and calling him adorable in a voice that would sound patronizing if Whumpee wasn’t completely convinced it was genuine.

He just had to breathe. Take a moment to appreciate the ability to take full breaths that didn’t burn his lungs. Just breathe In, 2, 3, 4.

Whumper pulled something out from the cabinet under the sink.

Out, 2, 3, 4.

There was a squeaking sound as the hose was screwed into place.

In, 2, 3, 4.

Just breathe, feel your lungs expand with air as you choose to breathe.

Out, 2, 3, 4.

The water turned on.

Whumpee let out a whimper and immediately cursed himself for it. This was no time to lose his nerve. He is gonna be tortured. It is gonna fucking suck. And then he’ll be left alone for a few hours to sleep before it starts all over again. This is just his fucking life now and whimpering isn’t gonna make it any fucking easier.

Unless it will. He stamped the thought out the second it popped into his head. He is not nearly broken enough to even consider that, and right now he has to be strong because Whumper is walking closer.

His breath picked up in his chest despite his efforts as he heard the water from the hose hitting the concrete floor. This was gonna fucking suck.

The gentle spray of freezing water hit his left knee first, soaking through the filthy sweatpants he has been wearing for weeks, and chilling him to the bone in seconds. Whumper shifted to spray to soak his other leg and meandered up his stomach and chest, teasing at his neck before going over his back with a lazy pace.

So they were freezing him out first, making him miserably cold before drowning him in the same fucking cold water. Delightful.

XXX

Whumper watched their darling whumpee in delight as he flinched every time they worked further up his neck, how he was racked with shivers from the icy water and the look on his face that let them know he knew it was only going to get worse from here.

Delicious.

They quickly put a kink in the hose to stop the water and cause whumpee to flinch at the change. They return to the sink and turned off the water fully before unkinking the hose and detaching it from the sink. They pulled out a bucket as they replaced the hose and let the water run hot for a moment before placing the bucket in the sink to fill up.

Whumpee was still facing the ceiling, as if they were trying very hard not to think about what was going to happen next. As the bucket filled Whumper pulled out several bottles from under the sink and walked over to Whumpee.

Whumpee was still trembling, but they suspected it was more due to cold than fear. Their whumpee was excellent at managing his fear and keeping still for them, a trait they often take advantage of.

They set the bottles down and comb their fingers through their darling’s greasy hair again. It was getting longer as the weeks went by, hanging in front of whumpee’s face and giving a wild dog look to him that only enhanced their artwork. He could do without the beard though, it gave an almost paternal look to his face. Aged him in a way that made you think he was a father of four instead of a recent collage graduate.

Yes the beard will have to go.

The sound of water running over the side of the bucket and into the sink pulls them out of their head. They give whumpee’s head a gentle pat that whumpee pointedly doesn’t flinch at and returned to his side a moment later with the bucket, a comb, and a set of clippers.

XXX

Whumper took several moments to arrange the things they brought over, meaning this probably wasn’t going to just be a simple drowning, meaning this is just gonna get a hell of alot worse.

Images flash unwittingly to mind, and he unsuccessfully tries to shove them away. Whatever is gonna happen, he will survive it. When this is over, he will take breaths with burning lungs, shiver with his hands tied behind his back, and laugh at himself for how he thought he wouldn’t survive.

Because he was going to survive. He is going to walk out that door one day and never have to resist flinches or hold his tongue to survive ever again.

The sound of water being scooped out of the bucket pulls him out. This is it.

He forces himself to take a deep breath. Inhale. Exhale.

Those damned fingers return to his hair, warm and sickeningly pleasant. He wants to wrench his head out of their grasp and away from them but he doesn’t. He holds still. He endures the unwelcome touch while he has to, just like how he will endure the drowning. Just like how he has endured every other goddamned torture he has been put through while trapped in this goddamned basement.

A clear, plastic, cup-shaped tupperware container filled with water enters his vision as it’s brought above his head. He closes his eyes and his breathing speeds up.

Burning heat is poured across his face and he gasps in shock as another scoop is poured along his hairline and into his hair. Then another, and another.

Soon his hair is soaked in the hot water and whumper’s fingers return to his hair, combing tangles out and making it lay straight

The terrible, gentle hand in his hair mixed with the warm water feels far better than he would ever admit. He is unlikely to be hurt now, but there is always the chance that the next douse of water will be ice cold and that the hand in his hair will tighten into a fist and hold him in place while the other fist pummels his unprotected face.

He wouldn’t be able to force himself to relax if he tried, the threat of this humilation giving way to pain an all too real possibility. Torture was far far worse than this, this might be the best he’s felt in weeks, but this was still not good. He’d still rather be anywhere but here, under the hands of someone who has beaten the shit out of him for ‘artistic purposes’.

Both the hand and the warm water stop as something is popped open. Whumpee tenses, ready for this to go from not okay to god-awful at lightspeed.

Whumper let out a small chuckle and cooed at him, patting his shoulder in ‘mock comfort’, not unlike a person patting the flank of a horse to calm them down.

Is it mock if Whumper really sees it as comfort? Does it even matter if its mock if being touched where he can’t see only reminds him how fucking helpless he is?

“Shhh darling, you’re being so good for me.” Whumper cooed in a voice that made part of Whumpee want kick out and struggle just to be contrary, but fear is controlling most of his fucking brain. Kicking out will definately turn this creepy, uncomfortable experience into a fucking nightmare.

It might be worth it to avoid whatever was gonna happen tonight though.

He swallows his pride and stays fucking still when whumper’s hand returns to his hair and something cool is massaged into his scalp with Whumper’s blunt nails, irritating the small nicks and cuts along his scalp.

He can’t fucking believe it. They’re fucking washing his hair?

Whumper is cleaning out the blood and grit and sweat and torture from his hair? Not only that, but once his hair was deemed clean, the suds and later the conditioner rinsed out, Whumper took a cloth to wipe his face clean of dirt and blood and all that other good shit that gets on your face when you’re being tortured, and did a fucking skin-care routine on him. They did a whole ass routine with exfoliating and a fucking face mask. They even took an electric beard trimmer or clippers or something and shaved his beard down to stubble, humming something about how that was much better.

What. The. FUCK??

He half expected them to get a tweezers and start plucking his eyebrows or some shit like that.

But whumper just put the things they had brought back to the sink and did what sounded like them rinsing and drying their hands before they came back and stood behind Whumpee their head tilted forward to look Whumpee in the eye.

Whumpee shifted under their gaze, sore from staying in the same position for so long, his feet already numb underneath him and his neck ached fiercely from craning backwards.

“How’re you doing darling?” they asked with a grin.

Whumpee didn’t respond.

“Ready to move on then I see,” Whumper said more to themself than anyone else and straightened to pull two chains down from the mechanism in the ceiling. They attach each manacle to each wrist and cut the ropes that have been digging into his skin for weeks.

The basement air feels pleasantly cool on his torn wrists, until the manacles shift down his wrists and settle into place digging into his open wounds. Terrific.

Whumper cuts the rope holding his neck in place and he leans forward slowly with a groan, muscles burning from lack of movement now equally furious with being moved out of position.

Wary of Whumper, and not wanting to be viewed as trying to get a beating, Whumpee remained on his knees and only rolled his aching shoulders forward. Fuck they hurt, they had been bound with each wrist tied individually and a short length of rope connecting them to allow for some mobility but simply the act of shifting them from back to front hurt like hell.

“Awww, are you sore?” Whumper cooed at them.

Whumpee tensed.

“We just have a little bit left to do before tonight so up up, on your feet,” Whumper commanded with a grin.

Whumpee leaned forward with a groan and braced his hands on the floor to slowly stand. At his full height he was at least several inches taller than Whumper, who stood to the side of the room next to the mechanism that will raise the chains toward the ceiling.

The chains that right now have slack. The chains that might just let him reach Whumper and kill them with his bare hands.

Whumpee froze in place. His moment of opportunity slipping by without him doing more than freezing. They might kill him. If he tried that, they might kill him. Would that be better? No. No it fucking wouldn’t be. As long as he is alive theres a chance.

A chance he might’ve just fucking missed.

Whumper cranked the mechanism, unaware of Whumpee’s internal battle. His arms began to be pulled upward by his shackled wrists and he let them be tugged upward until they were hanging loosely from the ceiling at about eye level, spread in a vaugue ‘I come in peace’ way.

Whumpee flexed his hands anxously. Whumper began humming the tune to a pop song Whumpee was unfamiliar with as they began filling the bucket again with hot water. They pulled out a tall wooden stool that they once tied Whumpee to with his front exposed so Whumper could flog his chest, and set it up within kicking distance from Whumpee.

Whumpee doesn’t do more than contemplate knocking it down. If it comes to it, and Whumpee can’t take it anymore, he can knock it down to get a minute or two of respite. Not that there’s not gonna be hell to pay afterward, but having some semblance of a plan is comforting.

The water started overflowing on the bucket again, so Whumper shut off the water and tossed a sponge in it before hauling it out of the sink and setting it on the stool.

Whumpee watched with detacheted interest and was preparing to brace himself for unwanted contact instead of torture. His mental fortitude however, shattered at the sight of Whumper pulling out a switchblade and flicking it open with a practiced grace.

Whumpee’s breath stopped in his throat and he chastised himself for it. What, you think that the torture will stop for one fucking second as long as Whumper is in here with you? Are you really that nieve, thinking that this will ever not end in blood.

Whumpee took several deep breaths to calm himself as Whumper chuckled and moved toward him menacingly. He wrapped his right wrist around the chain suspending it from the ceiling and gripped it tightly, bracing himself for whatever Whumper is going to do to him.

Whumpee feels the cool blade against place where their stomache meets their hip and holds in a whimper. This is gonna suck this is gonna suck this is gonna suck plays over and over in his head, waiting for the slice.

Whumper chuckles as pats his hip in that same condescending, spooked horse, way and Whumpee wants to kick them. He could. They were well within kicking range, his legs are free and Whumper is about to hurt him. Why the fuck isn’t he kicking them? He should still be fighting. What a few weeks of consistant torture and beatings and he’s fucking conditioned like a dog. Great. Fucking fantastic to know that he’s so easy to break.

He looks down to see Whumper staring up at him with a look of glee on thier smug fucking face. Anger boils inside of him as they soak in all his expressions, fucker was probably gonna say ‘delicous’, he thinks in a mockingly highpitched voice.

“What are you waiting for!” he shouts at them. And he can’t bring himself to regret doing it, even when Whumper’s grin extends to a full out smile and they grab onto his hip to brace themself to cut him. He can’t regret shouting at them. He can’t.

He refuses to regret the only show of defiance he has given in days. So instead, he steels himself for the knife.

XXX

Their darling really was a masterpiece. How he blends defiance and obedience is fucking perfect.

Delicous.

Whumper chuckles and draws the knife down, cutting through the ratty sweatpants from hip to ankle in a single slice of the recently sharpened knife. Whumpee jerks forward and gasps, trying to curl in on himself but keeping his leg perfectly straight. His weight was already shifted to the other side in anticipation of not being able to stand.

They threw their head back and laughed as Whumpee opened their eyes and saw that his leg was in fact fine. If completely bare and leaving him, eh, exposed.

Whumpee flushed a beautiful shade of red - they should get a pair of heels that color, it would match so well with their blue suit - and spat out “fuckin bastard” under his breath.

In half a second Whumper was pulling Whumpee’s hair back and holding the blade to his throat.

“What was that?” They ask in a low and dangerous tone, right next to Whumpee’s jaw.

Whumpee remained silent, difiance overriding fear for a few extremely stupid seconds.

Whumper kicks his knee out from under him and he falls with a painful jolt, his knees inches from the ground with his shoulders and wrists holding all his weight. He sobs and tries to get his feet under him, but Whumper stops him by grinding thier booted foot down on Whumpee’s ankle from behind.

They lean down next to Whumpee’s face and say in an unsettlingly calm voice, “I don’t like repeating myself. What. Did. You. Say?”

Whumpee lets out a gloriously pathetic whimper, but remains silant.

Whumper sighs and mutters a ‘stay’, before walking over to a cabinet and pull out one of their favorite whips, designed to bruise and leave beautiful welts instead of lashes they would have to disinfect and clean and bandage and yadda yadda yadda. This was simpler, meant for quick but effective punishments or drawn out beatings.

And boy did their darling need a punishment.

“You already have four offenses Whumpee,” they punctuate it with a crack of the whip on the concrete floor while circling in front of Whumpee. “One for each swear word,” another crack, “and one for each time you refused to answer.”

They slipped the handle under Whumpee’s jaw and tilted his chin up to see tears dancing in his eyes.

“You don’t want a fifth, do you?” They ask in a low, gentle voice.

Whumpee shakes his head, careful to not accidentily dislodge the handle from underneath his jaw and further add to his punishment. He’s learning. Slowly, but he’ll get there.

Whumper cracks the handle of the whip across his face and grips his jaw with their hand. Squeezing their fingers painfully into his jaw. “Words Whumpee. Use, your, words.” They tighten their grip with every word. “Do you want a sixth?”

“No, no I don’t want a sixth, sir.”

Whumper released his jaw with a shove. “Then what did you say?”

Whumpee hesitates a second too long.

“Thats six, you must really be a glutton for punishment darling. Are you? Are you a glutton for punishment?”

Whumpee swallows, eyes downcast, “No sir, no I’m not a glutton for punishment sir.”

“You know I don’t like repeating myself darling, you have ten seconds to answer.”

Whumpee licks his lips and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Fucking bastard. I called you a fucking bastard sir.” Whumpee swallows and seems to brace himself for a slap.

Whumper grins to themself, this was going to be fucking fun.

“Thats four more, I think you’re finially getting the hang of this.”

Whumpee’s eyes open in confusion.

“Fucking. Bastard. Fucking. Bastard.” Whumper held up their hand, and lifted a finger for every word they said, “Four.” They shrug and let their hand drop, “You did this to yourself darling.”

They start circling around behind Whumpee again, soaking in the angry mess that was Whumpee. “What are we at then Whumpee?”

No answer. Thats eleven

“Whumpee, I asked you a question. How many offenses are you at?”

A soft “ten,” came from Whumpee. Twelve and Thirteen.

“What was that?”

“Ten.” Whumpee states, louder this time.

“Nope, now we’re at Fourteen. Keep up Whumpee. Jeez, I haven’t given you a concusion for a while, seriously.” They crack the whip again, barely an inch from Whumpee’s bare feet. “Now, what are we at?”

“Fourteen.”

“Good, thats good whumpee. You’re doing great, except now we’re at 15 because you forgot to say sir. Again.”

Whumpee shuddered and tilted his head forward between his outstretched arms. He was no doubt gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut to regain some kind of control of his envoirnment, even something as small as shutting his eyes to the world around him.

“Now Whumpee,” They tap the handle of the whip against their chin, “ Just to recap and make sure we’re both on the same page, how many offenses are you at?”

This time Whumpee’s voice came loud and clear, “Fifteen sir.”

Affection bloomed in their chest and they stepped forward to pet their darling’s hair, the movement causing them to sway in their chains. “Good boy Whumpee! I knew you had it in you.”

Whumpee stayed completely still as Whumper ran their fingers through his hair.

“Now Whumpee, I do have to punish you. But I need to know that you’re learning from this,” They walk their fingers along his scalp, “so I can either give you 30 lashes, or I’ll give you 15 lashes and all you have to do is say ‘Thank you for punishing me sir, I deserve it’ after each one. How does that sound eh?”

Whumpee tensed more under their hand, they knew which he would pick, but it was important for him to see that there was always an option, always a way out for him if he ever needed it.

He took longer to debate than Whumper thought he would, honestly they almost expected him to wrench his head away from their hands and spit insults at them. But he doesn’t.

“Come on buddy, we don’t got all day. Choose and say please and thank you, otherwise it’ll be 60 and I’ll leave you up all night.” They put their other hand - still holding the whip - on his shoulder and touching his neck so they could have better leverage to claw their fingers through his still damp hair.

They felt Whumpee swallow and the vibrations from him saying, “Please give me 30 lashes, thank you sir.”

Whumper chuckled and backed up a few feet, “As you wish,” and struck.

Continued

#whump #nonbinary whumper #technically they are genderfluid but at the moment they are nonbinary #whumper #whumpee #torture #conditioning #creepy and intimate whumper #flogging #sadistic choice #sorta #noncon touching #noncon stripping #noncon nudity #nonsexual nudity #noncon bathing #spelling errors cw #I'll send you 10 bucks if you can guess the original prompt that inspired this because its completely lost #prolly gonna have a part two and three if I get around to writing them

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nkogneatho · 5 months

Text

𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘'𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐀 𝐖𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐀 𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐄- 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐘 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

—cw: fem!reader, male and female masturbating, fingering, fistfucking, pillowfucking (put me in a cage pls), desperate gojo because i'll never shut up about that. not proofread.

—a/n: i wish his seiyuu had an asmr channel just like nanami's so this drabble would've been longer. enjoy though <33

You're used to stalking the social media of people you go out with. It comes naturally. Well you live alone in this city, and you sure as hell don't want to stumble across a creep with no defense. You never know what's crippling it's way across this sinful city at night. The questionable news reports just added the oil to the fire of your anxiety. So it was natural that tonight, you were stalking another one of your dates. Gojo Satoru. You knew he was pretty popular when those hand had to leave yours to dap or fist bump his peers on your first date. It's almost as if fifty percent of the city knew him, like a celebrity. If he was really so popular, it would be easy to dig up info about him.

That's what led to you eagerly scrolling past his Instagram, flipping through each highlight as if you were a child who just found the greatest comic book.

party,

and parties.

it was like his mantra the way his entire feed was just him dancing under the influence, in outfits too expensive and champagne to rich. He bathed in the luxury and the people around him were pleasuring off the drops sprinkling. So perfect that he had everyone wrapped around his finger. But won't he do the same to you? Overpower you. All those riches and he decided to go out with you, just so he could make you one of his whores, you were sure about that.

"Ugh, fuck it." You groaned, tossing your phone away. "Guess i'll have to use my hand again."

You opened your laptop, went incongnito typing the first letter, but your autocorrect knew better. It's like it has memorised what you do at this hour. But autocorrect works on algorithms so you were sure it's your fault that you visit the site so frequently.

The porn website was open and you clicked on search button, specifically typing "hot men jerking off webcam." It was one of your favorite things to watch.

You scrolled through the popular videos you had already watched maybe a million times. There was a reason they were popular. So you just changed the filter and selected "new to old". After rummaging through some of the boring videos, your eyes landed on the preview of one with the most beautiful cock. longest even. Curiously, you click on it. The video starts with the man rubbing his boner through the boxers. You put a hand inside your panties, and all you want right now is for him to take his boxers off. After a few minutes, he does and his long light peach cock springs out. when he leans back, your eyes do a double take.

is that gojo fucking satoru??

And indeed it was. The man who earlier gave you the rich spoiled misogynistic son vibes was now moaning like a slut, begging his viewers to ride their imaginary pussy. He had zero shame. Although...why didn't you log out?? Why did you not switch to some other video?

Because holy shit he is fistfucking his cock like an animal in heat. The chair is shaking and making squeaking noises but fuck who cares about that. Listen to his moans. His fucking whimpers. He changed his placement and now he was on the bed, had the pillow folded in half only to start ramming his dick into it. God! Is this the real Gojo Satoru? Is this what he is? A camboy whoring his body out. Because he has generational wealth so there's no way he is foung that for money. So the only logical answer is because he is such a fucking pussywhore that his exhibitionist cock only cums when there are others watching it.

Your fingers starts vigorously pumping in your cunt. They weren't long enough to reach and you were actually wishing Satoru was fucking you instead of that pillow because look. Look at that long dick. Look at the pretty flushed tip with his precum glistening. Fuck, how'd he taste on your? Sweet? Sour? But you know it would taste warm and filthy for sure.

The man in the screen increases his pace and so do you, imitating him. you want to cum at the same time. you want to see what his cum looks like on the gray pillowcase. your middle finger starts stimulating your clit even more while Satoru in the screen is now snapping his hips rougly against the bed, in the pillow. you imagine yourself in the position. Prone Bone. Never tried it but if it is what he is doing, then you're sure as hell down. It's the way his thrusts can be heard banging against the wood under the mattress even if there's not skin for his to slap against. compared to what other camboys do, talk about how they're going to ruin your dirty little pussy, gojo's is different. he does say he'll ruin your pussy but it's hotter because it is followed by endless pleas.

"fuck—lemme ruin this pussy—anh! please, yeah? gonna make you feel so good, baby please?" almost as if he is actually fucking someone. and you don't think twice before assuming he is talking to you. It's okay to be delusional sometimes. Specially when his words make you cum so hard, that you are whining at the lack of more girth to clench around. you look at the screen and Satoru came too. And he was whimpering. Like actually whimpering because it felt so good. Hot strings of cum now soaked in the pillow. Shit.

When you come back from the bathroom after washing yourself, you hear a notification. you pick up your phone to find a "Free tomorrow night?" from the same man who indirectly made you cum so hard tonight. And after what you saw today, you would be a fucking idiot to miss a chance like this.

"Yeah, Of course. Can't wait to see you tomorrow."

*Sent*

#gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x you #gojo drabbles #jjk drabbles #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru smut #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #gojo x female reader #gojo x fem!reader

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