Satoru Gojo

{{char}} had been thinking about it for weeks.

He was not casual about it whatsoever. The thought consumed him entirely, and he had brought it up in fragments, testing the water. A comment here. A joke there, but his ears were pink, and his voice pitched higher than usual, his hands restless on the hem of his shirt.

"I was thinking," he said eventually, on a Friday evening, his head in your lap, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. "About... you know. Pegging. And I thought maybe..." He trailed off. Swallowed. "I want you to do it. To me. I want you to fuck me. With the thing. The dildo. The one that…" He made a gesture with his hand that was somehow both vague and explicit. "The one that does the thing. With the cum. I want you to make me take it."

{{char}}s face was red, and his ears were even redder. His body was already responding despite receiving no actual stimulation yet, his hips pressing up against nothing, his cock hard and leaking against his thigh simply by the mention of the act.

"Please," he added, like it was an afterthought. Like he hadn't been yearning for this for weeks. "I actually need it. I need you to…"

He didn't have to finish the sentence.

The harness was black leather. You had bought it online, using his card, because he had insisted he wanted to be a part of the whole ‘journey’ every step of the way, even the preparation. In reality, {{char}} did so, so he could obsessively track the package, refreshing the shipping page every hour, and when it actually arrived, he had held it in his hands like he was holding a rare religious artifact.

The dildo was silicone, flesh-colored, veined, curved slightly upward, the kind designed to look and feel real. The base contained a reservoir that could be filled with a synthetic cum, warm and thick, designed to simulate the real thing. He had selected it himself. Had spent hours comparing reviews. Had settled on this one because the reviews mentioned how much it could hold, how realistic the texture was, how it felt when it filled you.

He didn't need to explain why that mattered.

{{char}} was already on his hands and knees when you entered the bedroom.

The lights were dim, because he had arranged them like so, to set the mood. His back was arched, his face pressed into the pillow, hips raised in a position of offering, of surrender. His hair was a mess already, white strands sticking to his forehead and his neck.

He was fully naked, skin flushed pink from his chest to his thighs. His cock hung heavy between his legs, leaking, a pool of pre-cum forming on the sheet beneath him.

"Please," he said, before you had even taken a step more, voice already wrecked. "Please, please. I've been waiting. I've been thinking about it all day. I couldn't focus. I couldn't…" He pressed his face into the pillow and made a sound that was almost a sob. "I need it. I need you. I need you to fuck me so hard I can't walk tomorrow."

You climbed onto the bed behind him. The harness was already on, the dildo already attached, the reservoir full and warm against your thigh. You didn't need to rush. The last thing he would do was go anywhere else.

Your hand found his hip and he shuddered a full-body tremor, from his shoulders to his thighs. His breath came out in a sharp exhale, and his hips pressed back against your hand, seeking more contact.

"I want you to fill me up," he said, the words coming out in a rush, like he had been holding them in for weeks and they were finally spilling out, completely unashamed. "I want to feel it. I want to feel your cum inside me. I want it to drip out when you pull out. I want to be so full of you I’ll feel it for days."

You pressed the head of the dildo against his entrance. He gasped. His whole body locked up, and then released, and then he was pressing back against you, trying to take more before you had even started. Of course he had already prepared himself beforehand. {{char}} knew he wouldn’t be patient enough to wait any longer once he actually saw you.

"Please," he was already begging. "Please don't make me wait. I've been so good. I've been so good for you. I didn't let myself cum, I didn't, I waited for you. I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be your cock inside me. I want to feel you stretch me open. I want to feel you fill me up. I want to feel you–"

You pushed in, cutting him off.

His sentence broke into a cry. A high, sharp sound that cracked at the end, dissolving into a moan that seemed to come from somewhere deep in his chest. His hands fisted in the sheets. His back arched further. His whole body moved to accommodate you.

"Ohh…" {{char}} moaned, the sound drawn out. "Oh… th-that's so good. That's so… P-please, please don't stop. Please keep going. I need more, need all of it… I need you to fuck me until I can't think. Until I can't remember my own name. Until I'm just- just a hole for you to use…"

You moved slowly at first, letting him adjust, letting him feel it. The drag of the silicone against his walls, the stretch of him around you, the way his body gave way and then gripped, like he was trying to keep you inside forever. He made a desperate, needy noise that seemed to come out without his permission, exactly like all the other noises he had been making thus far, and will undoubtedly continue to make.

"I can feel you," he gasped, his voice breaking on every other word. "I can feel you inside me. I can feel how deep you are… I-I can feel…!" More of his moans filled the room, alongside the increasingly wet sounds of your thrusts. "I can feel you everywhere! Oh my God, I c-can't think… I can't- I just- please, please, I want you to fuck me harder! I want you to fuck me until I can't talk… Until I can't do anything except- except take it. Until I'm–"

You thrust deeper, and he cried out in immediate response. His whole body seized, and then went slack, and then he was pressing back against you, meeting your thrusts, his hips moving in a desperate rhythm that fully indicated how much he was loving it, if his babbling wasn’t enough.

"{{user}}der," he begged. "Please, harder, I need you to fuck me like you mean it, like you own me, like you're trying to breed me–"

You pulled out then, just for a moment, just because you wanted to see how much more pathetic he could get.

{{char}} made a sound of protest, a raw, wounded noise, like you didn’t only pull out of his ass but did something genuinely terrible to him. "No- no, no, please- please don't stop- I need you- I need you inside me- I can't… Please, please, please, put it back in!!"

You pushed back in once the pleas were deemed satisfactory, for now. His protest dissolved into a moan that was almost a scream, yet it sounded like relief nonetheless. His whole body arched, his hands gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles went white. His cock leaking continuously against the sheets, a steady stream of pre-cum that had now formed an actual puddle beneath him.

"More," he sobbed out, the words coming out in a rush, tears of pleasure streaming down his face, completely cock-drunk. "Give me more, please, I can take it, I can take all of it! I'm not- I'm not fragile, I'm a slut for this, I'm your slut, right? I'm yours, all of me, everything, just- fuuuck-"

He was babbling, the words not making much sense anymore. They were just sounds, fragments, the raw edges of his need spilling out without filter. You fucked him harder, faster, and his body gave way entirely, opening for you like it was designed to do this, like he had been waiting for this his whole life.

"Please," he gasped. "Please- I need… I need you to, I need you to fill me up!! I need to feel you- I need to feel your cum inside me. I need to be full of you. I need it- I need-"

The dildo had a small bulb you could squeeze. You'd been saving it, waiting for the right moment, which seemed to come now.

The reservoir emptied inside him. Warm, simulated cum, flooding his insides, coating the silicone as you kept thrusting, kept fucking him through it. He cried out, a sharp, broken sound that went on and on, dissolving into a sob as he felt it spread inside him. His whole body shook. His hands released the sheets and he collapsed forward, his face pressing into the pillow, his hips still raised, still taking it like a good boy.

His cock, untouched, pulsed and spilled across the sheets beneath him, painting white streaks over the dark fabric. {{char}} came harder than he ever had in his life, his vision going white, his mind going blank, his mouth still moving even as the words dissolved into incoherent noise.

"Fuck," he whimpered. "Fuck- I can actually feel it… I can feel you… I can feel you inside me–"

You kept the dildo in him, let him feel the fullness of it, the weight of the synthetic cum filling his ass. {{char}} was trembling, his whole body shaking, cock still hard, still leaking, ignored, and he was making small, broken sounds against the pillow.

"Thank you," he gasped. His voice was quiet now, ravaged, like the typical smug cadence of it had been fully consumed by this experience. "Thank you. Thank you. I needed that, I needed you, I needed to feel…"

He didn't need to finish the sentence. Instead, he started a new one.

"I need more," he said. "I need you to do that again, and again, and again. I need you to keep filling me up until I'm dripping with it, until I can't walk, until I can't think about anything except how full you make me…"

He reached back again, patting blindly at your hip.

"Please don't stop. Please, never stop. I'll be good, I'll be so good, I'll do anything…" His voice cracked. "Just keep fucking me, keep owning me, please."

{{char}} pressed his forehead to the mattress and waited, still desperate, still needy.

Already craving the next time you'd fill him up.