How Inconvenient
Gojo Satoru took up hypnotism for a very simple reason.
He likes to get his way.
You would think he doesn’t need hypnotism to get it though. He is Gojo Satoru. Born to wealth, with stunning looks, it’s undeniable. He’s clever, strong, outgoing. In what world did he ever struggle to get his way, especially while going about the humdrum of normal life? Most people were happy to do whatever it was he wanted, just to get him to smile their way—more so when they realized how well he tipped.
Truthfully, he didn’t.
And yet, he got some sick satisfaction from pushing his natural charisma beyond its limits.
Hypnotism? Oh, it was full of little tricks that could help with that, especially when used in tandem with his already excessive power.
Just look into his eyes. That’s all it takes. He doesn’t even have to say anything, just tick down his glasses and lull people into a relaxed and open state of mind. After that, he could get just about anyone to do just about anything.
Mostly he just laughed at people who fell for it. It was a game he played with the world, mostly just for amusement. Sometimes it helped him avoid petty troubles, sometimes it might have helped him save lives. He didn’t have to spend time arguing with normies who couldn’t deal with the real world just beyond their vision. Even sorcerers could fall prey to his ticks, but he didn’t use them to abuse people.
Well, that’s how it normally is.
Except when it comes to you.
You aren’t a sorcerer, or anyone special really. Just a girl, a little down on your luck, working nights at a convenience store not far from Jujitsu High. You live in the country where night work isn’t really that dangerous, though if you had another choice you’d work elsewhere. Especially because you hate dealing with one of your regular customers.
He comes by at least once a night when he’s in town, just to see the look on your face when you see him cross the threshold. Disgust, forced down under a polite but thin smile as you nod your head to acknowledge he’s there. You go weeks without seeing him sometimes, and you always hope it’s the last.
It never is.
You absolutely despise him. There is no hiding it. From first glance you’d held an inexplicable, guttural, nearly violent reaction to his presence. He made you want to hide your face and pray he didn’t notice you. He was too confident with a loud voice, the kind of person that thought they could get away with anything.
You didn’t really have a lot of experience with him though, so no hard evidence to back up what felt completely obvious. He had to be an asshole. But he was nothing but nice to you. So, you frown, mistrusting his every gesture.
You should have listened to your first instinct. You should have quit your job, if you knew what it meant for you to cross paths with Gojo Satoru.
It wouldn’t have saved you. Not when you caught the interest of a man like him.
His tricks were subtle—well at first. He hardly ever met anyone who took one look at him and felt such genuine disdain. He just wanted to know what your smile would look like. A genuine, loving smile. Like the kind of smile a bride has on their wedding day. A look of true love.
When he checks out, you catch a glance of his sterling blue eyes and are under his spell, easy as any other.
His lips curled into a smirk, as he commands you to, “Smile for me, honey, like it’s the happiest day of your life. Bet you look real cute like that.”
And you do. You smile, a real, soft, genuine, perfect smile.
But only for a moment, you’re still looking into his eyes but the hypnotism breaks, just a little. Your lips twitch, as if fighting the perfection he’s put on your face. And whatever small attraction he’d felt seeing your smile, quadruples. The idea something in you, some random untrained citizen, was even trying to resist made his dick throb.
He might have taken up hypnotism basically for fun, but using it on you was the first time he’d really wanted to control someone else against their will.
He couldn’t even wait to get home, he walked around the edge of the building (only just out of sight) and pulled his cock free from his pants, furiously stroking himself until he unloaded a spew of white mess onto the brick. He stays there for a moment, head against wall huffing, and he decides this is no way it can be the last time.
You became a grand experiment. He took his time, there was no need to rush, not when your small futile resistance became the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. He was addicted to the light of hatred that lingered behind your every look at him, melting away to obedience while the you inside tried so hard to resist.
Slowly, he tries to corrupt your mind into liking him. He tried different colognes until he found a scent you liked, and hummed whatever song he found out was your favorite when he was near you. That way you’d hear it and think of him now, not to mention getting it stuck in your head. A loop of you having to remember who it was that got that melody tattooed to your brain.
It’s so hard to keep it cordial when he wants to touch you. He can’t stop himself from always undressing you from behind his sunglasses. You couldn’t see him do it, but with the way you squirmed whenever he was around made him certain you felt his intentions. Well, and at this he would laugh to himself, you were subconsciously remembering far more than that.
It’s been weeks, and now he’s made it so even though he knew you despised him, you relaxed a little when he entered the gas station. You leaned in to smell him, and sometimes you even caught yourself humming that same song along with him.
“Don’t forget to say thank you, honey.”
“Thank you, h-honey.”
You couldn’t help yourself. It was policy to thank customers, obviously. But it felt different when he asked you to say it, and how every time you couldn’t help but say in a voice that didn’t even sound like you. He smiles coyly, feeling how it makes his blood hot that you can’t even hear yourself call him honey instead of sir anymore.
“That’s right, good girl.” And in your mind his ‘good girl’ only meant ‘ma’am’, his smile widens. “You’re welcome. See you later.”
You don’t respond. You never want to see him again. Not enough to wish him dead, but recently your thoughts have started ticking there. But your mouth waters terribly as he leaves, and you don’t know why, so you chug some water to chase the feeling away.
After your shift’s over is when he returns, when your hands shake as you enter your car. You don’t know why, but it’s like you’re waiting for something and not just to heat up the left-over pizza you have waiting at home. You’re almost giddy, actually, unable to explain to the next shift worker where you manage to pull that last pep in your step out of.
And you’re so right to be excited.
Because once you leave, and you head over to a nearby parking lot, you’re meeting him. And you’re earning the next helping of your most favorite treat in the whole world. He’s made sure that your new favorite place is on your knees with your mouth wrapped around his cock.
Glug, glug, glug, glug.
The rhythmic sound of your throat clenching around his cock is hypnotic in its own right. It’s basically a lullaby to him. In fact, it’s his favorite sound to listen to at the start of the night's work, and his favorite way to finish your day.
“Perfect little mouth you got, honey,” Gojo groans, grabbing your head and forcing you to deep throat him. You splutter for a moment as his tip bullies the back of your throat, but after a moment you relax into his perfect cock sleave, as you always do. “Every fucking time, so good. Lucky, I let anyone else see that pretty tongue of yours, what a greedy hole.”
He pushes your head down further, loving how your throat tightens a little more, before he pulls your head up. That stupid, blissed out look greets him, as he’s fucked a glazed contentment into those lips. As soon as your mouth is empty, your tongue lulls out and you pant like a dog. Spit drips down from your tongue to the asphalt below.
Yet with it, your lips twist down just enough to hint at a frown, your eyebrows twist enough to seem confused. And a small, thin trail of tears spills over your cheeks. Crying, and needy, all just for him.
You look deliciously perfect.
He peers down, checking to make sure his other order has been followed. And surely enough his good girl has her fingers between her legs, rubbing her little clit so hard and fast her thighs are shaking. Your slick cunny drools too, all over the asphalt until you’re leaving a desperate little puddle. Absolutely ruining yourself.
He wonders, just for a moment, if your other hole is as needy as your mouth. And while he’s yet to use you there, right now it feels awfully tempting…
Enjoyed yourself?
Consider leaving the mansion a tip!