you hum skipping up the stairs, some latest tune with your hair swishing behind you as you reach your room.
flicking on a light, you throw your bag onto the couch and immediately release your hair from the shackles of your high pony.
wind-down time after a fun night with your girls.
taking off your shirt you approach your favorite part.
you can finally, finally unhook your bra.
twisting your shoulders back you turn around to watch yourself unhook it in the mirror until..
in the reflection of the mirror your eyes land on your window.
what the-
you scream throwing the nearest thing (your purse) at the window and quickly pull your shirt back on.
a flash of white hair moves behind it as your purse makes contact with the glass, bouncing off rather dramatically.
is that…?
you stomp up to your balcony opening its door and glaring up at the intruder.
“l-listen…i can explain- i wanna start off by saying im sorry—“
“satoru” you say calmly, “come inside”
the blue eyed man, your very own boyfriend, blinks at you and then hesitantly steps in closing the door behind him.
you take a deep breath in.
“what. the. hell. IS WRONG WITH YOU??”
“uhhh..bad timing?”
“yes!!! why are you at my window, without even informing me mind you” you jab an accusatory finger at him “watching me undress like a PERVERT”
an expression of complete shock overtakes satoru’s features as he stammers over his own explanation.
“listen,” he raises his hands in surrender, “i didn’t mean that to happen”
“what to happen?” you snap.
you weren’t really mad at him just….confused and kind of irritated.
satoru takes a step back in defense, he was significantly taller than you but if someone else was watching they’d think he was cowering under your scolding.
“watching you…undress…” he trails off.
your brows furrow as you shake your head in disbelief.
“and i’m not a pervert” he mumbles under his breath, adjusting his glasses and looking away.
“okay just.. why are you on my balcony? you scared me you know..” you sigh giving him a chance to explain.
“i just missed you, i wanted to see you so i came” and now he’s pouting. cute.
you lick your lips, searching for an ounce of patience.
you take in his state, he’s in his spider-man pj’s, hair slightly disheveled and a jacket half-hazardly thrown on.
“let me get this straight” you pace a bit tapping your chin, “you were in bed thinking about me”
satoru’s eyes pop open, surprised by your accurate prediction.
you continue, “and instead of walking through the door like a normal person you chose to climb to my balcony and watch me through my window?”
“statistically that’s a lot of assumptions”
“prove me wrong”
“okay” satoru looks around taking in the state of your room, while you impatiently tap your foot.
and then he’s pushing you onto the bed.
he hovers over you, hair falling into his eyes and his frames slightly askew.
“i just wanted to see you, the staring while you undress part happened purely of off chance and probability”
“right” you roll your eyes.
“some might even call it luck” his eyes crinkle when you smack his shoulder playfully, letting out a soft laugh.
“ow- is it so bad” he hums, snuggling into the crook of your neck so his voice comes out muffled.
when he looks up, his pupils are blown wide “not like anything i haven’t seen before, but i think ive forgotten let’s check”
oh and the probability of nerd!satoru taking off your shirt tonight just went up to a 100%.
zero patience for "irreversible damage" rhetoric because like... parents are allowed to do all kinds of other irreversible body modification to their kids and nobody gives a fuck. you can pierce your kid's ears, you can sign them up for a sport that will injure them for life, you can provide or withhold medical care like vaccines according to whatever whims you like. i've mentioned this before but my mom forced me to get laser hair removal done on my legs when i was a teenager because my body wasn't mine, the way i chose to upkeep it was a reflection on her. "irreversible damage" is very much part and parcel of the broader belief that parents own their children's bodies.
This Re: Societal dismissal of the threat covid presents to everyone. In less than five years, long covid has become the most common chronic illness in children, surpassing asthma. Somehow HRT is "irreversible damage" but giving millions of kids a poorly understood chronic illness is just "back to normal"
(P.S. Wear a respirator. Don't catch or spread covid.)
The CJP protest is being called a victory. Pradhan resigns, a few demands accepted, people told to pack up and go home. On paper it looks so perfect and happy. But look at who is still paying.
Junaid spent weeks at Jantar Mantar doing the most basic work imaginable, distributing food and water so students wouldn’t collapse in the unbearable heat. Just quiet labour and act of service. Now he faces police visits to his family, document seizures, questions about “funding". Serving water, such a simple act, became suspicious the moment a Muslim name was attached to it. In Bengal, at least thirteen other Muslims were detained under the Goonda bill, saying that they weren't students but gundas attacking police and journalists. When the faces are Muslim, the system somehow escalates and it turns into a witch hunt.
The worst part is that this isn't new. During the CAA-NRC protests, the same pattern was played out. Muslim women, students and ordinary citizens sat for months in places like Shaheen Bagh, exercising the right to dissent against a law they believed threatened their citizenship, and these peaceful sit-ins were met with sustained police pressure, internet blackouts, and a wave of UAPA and sedition cases that landed disproportionately on Muslim participants (I'm not saying it was only muslims who suffered, but a large number of muslims). While some non muslim protesters faced action too, the scale, the speed of FIRs, the prolonged detention, and the public framing of “anti-national” hit Muslims the hardest. The state treated their exercise of constitutional rights as a security threat rather than legitimate dissent that's a constitutional right. Article 19(1)(a) and (b) of the Constitution guarantee every citizen the right to freedom of speech and to assemble peaceably without arms. These rights apply to everyone whether it be a Hindu, Muslim, Sikh, Christian, atheist, ANYONE. Courts have repeatedly affirmed that peaceful protest is a fundamental democratic right. Yet in practice, when Muslims organise or even simply support a protest, the machinery of the state — Section 144 orders, preventive detention, UAPA charges, slower bail, heavier media trials— is applied and they are tagged anti-national. The law is equal on paper but the enforcement is certainly not equal.
A partial win for the organisers does not erase the selective cost paid by people like Junaid and those in Bengal. The protest may be over but the pattern of treating Muslim protesters as inherently more dangerous is not. The protest is not a success till the witch hunting of muslims is not over.
ಇ.word count: 5.5k ಇ.art by: @!narutoss.ramen on X
ಇ.pairing: Nerd!Satoru x Nerd!Reader
ಇ.content & warnings: ꒰non canon au ⋮⋮ crack! ⋮⋮ reader & satoru are heavily inexperienced ⋮⋮ Satoru being annoying otp ⋮⋮ bad sexting ⋮⋮ masturbation m & f ⋮⋮ reader humps a pillow ⋮⋮ oral. fem rec ⋮⋮ loos of virginity ⋮⋮ p in v ⋮⋮ multi-orgasms ⋮⋮ c-pied ⋮⋮ cum eating ⋮⋮ kissing꒱
It had been a week. One whole week since the two of you had officially, undeniably, ridiculously become a couple. Your boyfriend. You still were not entirely sure how that word had ended up belonging to Satoru Gojo.
Sometimes you would be doing something completely ordinary. Brushing your teeth. Standing in line at the grocery store. Trying to decide what to eat for dinner. And your brain would suddenly go. Oh. Satoru is your boyfriend. Then you would have to stand there for a moment. Staring blankly at whatever was in front of you while your face slowly heated.
It was stupid. You had had boyfriends before. Technically. Well— Maybe not. Okay. No. Not really. But Satoru was different. Satoru was the person who had somehow gone from a complete stranger you met at a Doraemon expo, to the man whose name sat permanently pinned at the top of your messages.
Your Satoru. Your boyfriend. And apparently, according to him you were his girlfriend. He had started using the word like he had been waiting his entire life for permission. "My girl." "My girlfriend." "Angel." "Pretty girl." "My favourite person."
The first time he called you my girl over text you stared at the message for a solid thirty seconds before throwing your phone onto your bed. Then you picked it right back up. Then you reread it. Then you buried your face in your pillow.
Satoru meanwhile had apparently been having an equally profound experience. Because somewhere between the movie theater and the following morning he realized something terrifying. He had a girlfriend. Satoru Gojo had a girlfriend. Not a temporary fling. Not someone he met at a party and forgot the next morning. Not a stranger whose number would eventually disappear somewhere in the endless scroll of his phone.
You.
You were the person he could text when he woke up. The person he could send stupid memes to. The person who actually laughed at his jokes. The person who would tolerate him rambling about something obscure for twenty minutes because you genuinely wanted to hear him talk. And perhaps most importantly you were the person who had seen him at his most embarrassingly enthusiastic and somehow still wanted him afterward.
That last part had been sitting in his head a lot. More than he would ever admit. Because the thing was. Satoru had never really thought he would have this. Not in the way he had always secretly wanted it. Someone who wanted to know him. Someone who wanted to stay. Someone who would curl against him and laugh until her stomach hurt because he said something stupid. Someone who would look at him like he was something precious.
It made him feel almost unbearably lucky. Which was annoying. Because Satoru Gojo did not like feeling unbearably anything. Except apparently unbearably lucky. And unbearably horny.
That was becoming a problem too. A very significant problem.
It had been a couple weeks since that wild night in the bathroom stall at the movies. Your first real date. The way his hands had found you there. Inside you. The heat and the rush and the desperate way you both clung to each other after. Confirming everything. He was your boyfriend now. You were his girl. Satoru Gojo was a lucky boy because he did not think he would ever have a girlfriend. Someone to spend time with. Someone to share his jokes with and hear your pretty laugh in return.
That night after he came to the realization that he actually had his hands on you. Inside you. It had all been so surreal. And now the two of you had been constantly talking over text. Even sexting. Yeah. Sexting.
The first time it happened started innocently enough. He had just gotten out of the shower.
You were lying in bed. Half watching something on your laptop when your phone buzzed. You picked it up. A message from Satoru.
toru 🩵
showered
A smiled appeared on your face immediately, a big one, as your fingers clicked his message open and began typing.
you 🩷
congratulations?
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again. Then—
toru 🩵
wow
toru 🩵
that's all i get
That made you giggle to yourself.
you 🩷
what do you want
His response took longer this time. Then your phone buzzed, a picture??? Why was he sending a picture right now, you took a sharp inhale.
And opened it. And immediately sat up. Satoru was standing in what looked like his dorm room, obviously. You've been there a couple of times to recognise the background. He was still wet. A towel hanging loosely around his neck. He wasn't smiling properly exactly. It was more of that lazy little half smirk he did when he knew precisely what he was doing. Your heart gave one stupid, traitorous little thump.
You stared. Then stared some more. Your nipples tightened under your shirt just from the sight of him like that. Fresh from the shower. Skin still warm and damp.
you 🩷
oh
His reply came instantly.
toru 🩵
oh?
You bit your lip, in anticipation
you 🩷
you look nice
toru 🩵
nice?
you 🩷
yes
toru 🩵
that's so romantic
You peered at your screen, then rolled your eyes.
you 🩷
shut up
toru 🩵
no no i'm listening
toru 🩵
tell me more about how nice i look
You could practically hear his voice. That amused teasing tone. Your pussy gave a slow warm throb as you typed.
you 🩷
your hair looks pretty
There was a pause. Longer this time. Then—
toru 🩵
pretty?
You sighed, then frowned.
you 🩷
yes
toru 🩵
you think i'm pretty?
Your cheeks warmed and there was heat pooling low in your belly now.
you 🩷
i didn't say that
toru 🩵
you literally did
you 🩷
i said your hair is pretty
toru 🩵
coward
You gasped... The audacity. No he did not.
you 🩷
excuse me?
toru 🩵
you heard me
You were smiling madly, not being able to help it anymore.
you 🩷
your hair is pretty
you 🩷
your face is pretty
you 🩷
happy now?
His answer took almost a full minute.
toru 🩵
very
Then another message.
toru 🩵
you should send me a picture too
You looked down at yourself. You were wearing an oversized shirt, it was nothing special. Nothing remotely seductive. Your hair was messy. You had not done anything to look pretty. But your body was already reacting. Skin tingling. Pussy getting slick just from talking to him.
you 🩷
i'm in bed
toru 🩵
i know
Your eyebrows lifted, a real psychic he is.
you 🩷
how?
toru 🩵
because you just told me
You laughed, and shook your head unbelievably.
you 🩷
idiot
toru 🩵
what are you wearing
Your smile faltered. Not because the question was shocking. It was just. Different. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard. Your nipples were hard now. Pressing against the soft fabric.
you 🩷
clothes
His response came immediately.
toru 🩵
wow
toru 🩵
incredibly specific
You pressed your lips together.
you 🩷
an oversized shirt
toru 🩵
whose?
You blinked.
you 🩷
mine
toru 🩵
boring 🙄
you 🩷
you're annoying
He didn't waste time sending the next message.
toru 🩵
take it off
Your stomach flipped, tf!? You stared at the words. A rush of shy heat flooded your face and between your legs.
you 🩷
...why?
The three dots appeared.
toru 🩵
curiosity
Another message.
toru 🩵
scientific research 😇
You laughed so suddenly you had to cover your mouth. Your clit throbbed and you wanted to touch it. You wanted his voice telling you to.
you 🩷
you're such a nerd
toru 🩵
says the girl who went to a fucking doraemon expo with me
you 🩷
i hate you
toru 🩵
no you don't
Your fingers went still. Because he was right. You did not. You really really didn't.
you 🩷
no
Then.
you 🩷
i don't
His response was almost immediate.
toru 🩵
yeah
toru 🩵
i know
You stared at the screen. And then your phone rang.
You nearly dropped it.
"Satoru?"
His voice came through warm and slightly amused.
"Hi."
"You called."
"I did."
"Why?"
"You were taking too long to answer."
You smiled despite yourself.
"To what?"
"Anything."
You rolled onto your stomach now.
"Satoru."
"Angel."
The nickname was softer over the phone. That was the problem. Everything sounded different when he said it aloud. You tucked your face into your pillow. Your pussy was wet now. Aching.
"What?"
"Are you still wearing the shirt?"
You made a tiny noise of disbelief.
"You're still on that?"
"I'm persistent."
"You're annoying." Yes he definitely was.
"You like me."
"I do." ... "fucker" - You muttered that under your breath.
The silence afterward was immediate. You could hear him breathe, it was soft and shallow, like he himself was trying hard to stay still. It made you close your eyes. You smiled.
"What's wrong?" Your voice came out a little shaky, you didn't mean for it to.
"Nothing." He said voice calm, almost assuring.
"You went quiet."
"I'm appreciating the fact that my girlfriend just admitted she likes me." Well that sounded a bit sarcastic.
"You already knew that." You retorted.
"I like hearing it."
Something in your chest softened. You turned onto your back. Your hand drifted down. Hovering shyly over your stomach.
"You're ridiculous." A small chuckle left your lips.
"Yeah."
His voice.. you can tell he was smiling. Then after a moment.
"Can I see you?"
Your heart jumped, you started to blink rapidly.
"uuuh r-right now?"
"Right now." He said straightforwardly.
"Satoru." You said, voice coming out an octave louder than necessary.
"What?"
"You've already seen me."
"I know."
"Today." You reminded.
"I know."
"Earlier." You re-affirmed.
"I know."
You could hear the grin in his voice.
"I want to see you right now, Angel."
That did something to you. Something so embarrassingly simple, had you smiling ear to ear at the ceiling. Your fingers slipped lower. Brushing over where your panties were soaked through.
"Okay." You sighed breathlessly.
There was a small pause. Then the call changed. The screen lit up, the emoticon to switch to video, you pressed it absentmindedly. And suddenly there he was. Satoru. His hair was still damp. His towel had fallen around his shoulders. He was lying back against his pillows, and his signature wire-rimmed glasses weren't on. He had one hand resting behind his head.
"Hi." He said playfully, his perfect teeth glaring at you.
You stared, eyes probably wide. He raised an eyebrow.
"Hi?"
"Yes. Hi." He tutted, then without giving you a second—
"You're staring."
"I'm not." You blinked your eyes off to the side.
"You are." He teased.
You groaned softly. "Your hair is still wet."
"That's what you noticed?" He huffed.
"Yes."
"Wow." Oh you didn't even notice the lack of his spectacles. That kinda broke his heart.
"Stop fishing for compliments." You said, eyes rolling.
"Tell me I'm pretty again."
You laughed, in disbelief.
"No."
"Please?" God... why did that sound so... ughhh.
"No." Your eyebrows pinched together.
"Angel."
Damn.
You covered your face. He laughed. Fuck. You loved his laugh. You loved how easy it was. How he never seemed embarrassed by it. Your fingers pressed lightly against your clit through the fabric.
"You're pretty." You muttered.
"What, what was that, hm?" Oh he was taunting you now.
"I said you're pretty." You said defeatedly.
"Louder."
"No."
"Come on."
"Satoru." That came out a little too whiny.
"Pretty please."
You groaned, again.
"You're pretty." You said honestly, voice loud enough for him.
He smiled and there it was. That look. The one that made you suddenly feel like you were the only person in the world.
"Thank you." That sounded so sweet, coming from him.
"You're welcome."
Then his eyes flicked downward.
"What are you wearing?"
You stared at him. He stared back. You narrowed your eyes. Your pussy clenched.
"You already know. Baka"
"I want to hear you say it."
"Ugh." You're weird."
"I'm your boyfriend."
"That doesn't explain anything."
"It explains everything."
You laughed again. Your fingers started moving in slow shy circles.
"An oversized shirt."
"Still?"
"Yes." Annoyance clear and present in your voice now.
"Nothing else?" He was prying.
You froze. Satoru's expression changed. Not dramatically. Just enough though. His smile softened into something more curious. His free hand shifted lower on screen.
"Angel?"
You swallowed. Your voice came out breathy. Shy but honest.
"You're being nosy."
"Very." At least he was self-aware.
"You can't see anything."
"I didn't ask to see anything."
"You're thinking about it." Oh he definitely was.
"Maybe." That confirmed it.
Your cheeks warmed. Your nipples were so hard they ached. Your pussy was soaking. You wanted to touch yourself properly. To him. To his voice.
"Oh." He said softly.
"What?"
"You're flustered."
"I'm not." You tried to deny, to play it somewhat cool.
"You are." This asshole.
"Stop looking at me."
"Never." omg.. why was he like this?!
You hid your face. But you kept your fingers moving. Slow and awkward. Horny and unsure, no you were sure, so sure actually.
"You're so annoying."
"You're cute."
That shut you up, and Satoru laughed quietly.
"See?" His voice teased.
"See what?"
"I can make you speechless."
"Don't get excited."
"Too late."
You rolled your eyes. But you were smiling. Most times the two of you stayed like that. Talking. Teasing. Learning. There was no rush. No script. Just two people who were still figuring out how to be together. Shy in so many ways even after that bathroom stall. Still exploring every new feeling.
Sometimes the conversation drifted toward things neither of you had the courage to say directly. Questions. Curiosity. Little admissions.
Satoru'd asked what you thought about him. You told him he was irritating. He asked what else. You said he was kind. He went quiet. You asked why. He said he was not used to people saying that. You told him he should get used to it. Then he smiled.
And suddenly you understood something. The flirting was easy. The teasing was easy. But underneath it there was something softer. Something neither of you knew quite how to handle yet. Something that made every new step feel bigger than it should.
But right now your fingers kept rubbing. Little whimpers slipping past your lips, trying to be quiet but he was picking up on every stray sound. He could tell and maybe that excited you.
"Angel. Are you... touching yourself?" His voice dropped. Unfiltered.. teasing and horny, you could hear it.
You bit your lip shyly. Fuck. You were caught.. But you nodded. You nodded anyway because you couldn't keep anything from him even if you wanted to.
"Yeah. A little." Your voice came out strained. There was no going back now.
"Fuck. Don't hide it." He breathed. "Let me see you. Please."
Your heart pounded. But you switched cameras. The screen showed where your t-shirt had ridden up your tummy, and your other hand clearly shoved into the waistband of your panties. His eyes darkened when he saw it.
"You're so pretty like this." He murmured. "You're ah- um touching yourself..?" He sounded so shy and wrecked, asking a dumb question, the answer was obvious enough at this point.
It still made you whimper. Fingers slipping lower under your panties. Sliding through your wet folds.
"Yes. Satoru." Affirmations was definitely his kink.
Your breathless purr of his name, made him groan.. he was coming undone quick. His camera flipped down, now too. His sweats and boxers shoved down mid thigh, cock out and visibly hard. Flushed and pretty. Long and leaking precum at the tip. His slender hand wrapped around it. Stroking slow. All for you to see and your eyes lingered, staring intently.
"Look at what you do to me." He said. Voice rough. "So hard for you angel."
You rubbed your clit faster. Watching him. The way his hand moved. The slick sounds. His moans of your name.
"Satoru..." You gasped. Fingers circling. Wet noises filling the call on both ends.
He stroked harder. Thumb spreading precum over the tip and down his length. "Fuck. Your sounds. S'messy Angel. Let me hear your pretty cunt."
You moaned. Shy but needy. Rubbing quicker, building fast. His hips bucked. Hand flying.
"Angel. M'gonna cum." He panted. Moaning your name loud, then in the next second thick white cum streaked across his chest. Over his fingers. So much. So pretty.
You followed. Messy on your fingers. Clenching and whimpering out his name, desperately.
He caught his breath. Eyes hungry. "Can i see.. Angel.. can I see your fingers? show them to me please.." Fuck... he was begging so nicely, it did something to you.
Shy but obediently you held them up. Shiny, your arousal thick and sappy stringed on your fingers, webbing in the light.
"Good girl... fuck. Put them in your mouth.. haa-ah taste yourself f'me Angel."
You slipped them into your mouth, with a moan, Sucking softly as he wiped his cum off his chest. Licking a bit from his fingers, in sync with you.
The two of you stayed on the call. Breathing softly together. Smiling shyly, left over horniness fading way now. Both connected and sated.
Eventually Satoru's eyes left your pretty face for a second and glanced at the clock in the little upper left corner on his phone.
"It's late." He said in realization.
"It is." You knew it was by now.
"You should sleep." Voice tender-soft.
"You first." You murmured back.
"I'm not tired."
"Neither am I." He sounded believable but you were sure.
"You are."
"I'm not." He was going to play this game, but you weren't gonna let him win this.
"You've yawned three times."
That made him grin, "You're counting?"
"Obviously."
He smiled.
"Stay on the phone, with me Angel." Voice low and lazy.
You blinked.
"While we sleep?"
"Yeah."
Your heart squeezed.
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay."
With that he settled deeper into his pillows. You did the same and for a while neither of you said anything. You could hear his breathing. He could hear yours.
And eventually...quietly.
"Hey angel?"
"Yeah?" Your voice came out a little drowsy.
"I'm really glad you're my girlfriend."
You smiled into the darkness.
"Me too."
A pause. Then-
"Also."
"What?"
"Your shirt is still bothering me."
You burst out laughing.
"Satoru!"
He laughed too.
And somewhere between the teasing and the laughter the call stayed connected. The two of you fell asleep like that. Not knowing exactly where this was going. Not knowing how much you would learn about each other. Not knowing how many more firsts were waiting.
Just knowing that somehow. Against all odds. Satoru Gojo had a girlfriend. And you had a boyfriend. And he was lying in bed somewhere smiling at the sound of your sleepy breathing.
Thinking probably for the hundredth time that week. Holy shit. She's really mine.
And maybe just maybe you were thinking the same thing.
Because tomorrow he would text you again. He would send something ridiculous. You would pretend to be annoyed and he'd flirt. You would flirt back. And eventually one of you would say something that made the other flustered.
And you would keep discovering each other. Slowly, carefully, and with hunger. One little secret at a time.
This time you're at his dorm room on campus.
And it starts with a pillow.
Well— you, and a pillow, and a very stupid pair of thigh-high socks that Satoru swore would be the death of him when you slid into his dorm room wearing them and nothing else but one of his oversized hoodies and a shy little smirk.
He gawked.
You straddled his pillow without a word, right in the middle of his bed, and started grinding. Soft. Slow. Just for yourself. His jaw went slack. His hands froze mid-text. And you were so casual about it, like you didn’t even notice the way he was staring at you like you’d hung the moon with your pussy.
“Practicing,” you’d murmured, shrugging cutely.
“For what?” he asked, voice wrecked.
Your smile was pure trouble. “Riding.”
Satoru dropped his phone. Physically. Onto the floor.
You giggled. "I wanted to see if I could get off just humping something."
He made a sound like he'd been punched.
So now here you are— on your hands and knees, still wearing his hoodie and those sinful socks, pussy flushed and puffy from humping his favorite dorm pillow, hips twitching like you're almost there. You don't even realize you're whimpering until his hands slide around your hips, and he speaks, low and starving, right behind you.
“Angel…”
You look back over your shoulder.
Satoru is kneeling behind you, shirtless, eyes dark with hunger. He brushes your ass with his palm. Then slips his hand between your thighs and cups your pussy over the pillow. Soaked-sticky and messy.
“You’re so wet,” he groans. “You were gonna cum on a pillow and not even let me watch?”
“I was...testing” you pant, wearily.
He flips you like a doll.
Suddenly you’re flat on your back, head on the sheets, thighs trembling open and hoodie bunched around your waist. The pillow lies forgotten beside you, damp with slick. He looms over you, hair falling into his eyes, lips parted and pink.
“You wanna ride my face, Angel?” he asks, voice hoarse.
Your whole body shivers.
“…Can I?”
He laughs soft and stunned, worshipful almost, and leans down to kiss you like you’re the most delicious thing in the world.
“Fuck yes, you can. Sit on my face. Suffocate me. Make me drown in it.”
He lays back against the pillows, adjusting under you with arms out like a throne. His glasses are already tossed to the side, and he’s licking his lips like he can already taste you. You’re climbing over him, thighs shaking, when he grabs your hips and drags you up.
“Right here,” he whispers, eyes locked on your glistening cunt above him. “Right here, baby. Let me feel the weight of it.”
You lower slowly, knees braced, hands pressed into the wall behind his headboard. You hover above his mouth, panting and then, gently, you sank down.
His tongue meets your folds like he’s starving.
You wail.
Your pussy clenches instantly, overwhelmed by the first hot drag of his tongue from your entrance to your clit. Satoru groans, loud, grabs your thighs like he needs more, and pulls you down until you’re seated fully on his mouth.
“Satoru!” you cry out, rocking without meaning to.
His tongue slides in now, licking into your dripping pussy like he’s mapping it. He moans like it tastes like heaven, like it’s a privilege just to be under you. Your thighs squeeze around his head. Your hips roll. Your clit finds his nose. And you grind.
He’s letting you.
Letting you fuck his mouth like you need it to breathe.
“Don’t stop,” you whimper. “Don’t stop, I’m— Satoru, I’m gonna cum, I’m so close—”
He hums against your clit and the vibration breaks you.
You cum on his tongue with a scream, body jerking, hips grinding down in helpless little circles. He grabs your thighs, keeps you there, mouth open, licking, moaning, slurping like he doesn’t care that you’re sobbing above him.
You collapse forward, hips still twitching, body limp, cheek against his bare chest.
He gasps when you move off him, his face soaked, chin dripping with your slick.
“…You taste like candy,” he whispers, starry-eyed.
You’re panting, half-laughing. “That was insane.”
“I think I’m addicted to your pussy.”
You slap his chest, weakly.
He grins, wild and happy, then he murmurs, "You've got the prettiest pussy I've ever seen Angel, We need to do this again.. maybe ah-hundred times before we," His voice drops as he leans in and whispers into your ear teasingly, "fuck huh?"
Now you’ve been thinking about it all day.
All week, really.
Every time your thighs press together too tightly in class, every time you catch Satoru’s glazed-over stare sliding to your chest or how he bites his lip when you fidget in your seat—you think about riding him.
You’ve made out on his futon. You’ve touched. Explored. Cum multiple times on his fingers while crying into his neck. You’ve memorized the way he moans when you stroke him, how his cock twitches helplessly when you kiss the head and whisper how much you want to take it inside.
So now… it’s time.
You sit on his lap in his tiny, warm dorm room, legs bare, wearing nothing but one of his hoodies and knee socks, straddling him while his hands hover at your waist like he’s too scared to grip you. Your panties are already shoved to the side. His sweats are pushed down, and his cock's hard. Flushed, drooling against his belly, it twitches between your folds like it’s waiting for permission.
You’re both shaking.
“You don’t have to,” he whispers. “Not tonight. Only if you really want—”
“I need to,” you breathe.
You lean close, your nose brushing his, eyes wide and nervous but burning.
“I want to ride you, Satoru.”
He chokes on air.
“Oh my god.”
Your hand wraps around the base of his cock, hot and slick from his own arousal, and you guide him up, between your slick folds, over your clit. You both shudder. You roll your hips, let him feel the mess he’s made of you. His eyes are already fluttering back.
“You’re so wet,” he whispers. “You’re gonna take me?”
You nod. “Just… let me go slow.”
You lift your hips, line him up with your tight little entrance, and take a deep breath.
“Okay. I’m ready.”
He holds your waist, his grip tightening.
The tip presses in.
And holy fuck.
You’re stretching already, your walls squeezing down on him like you’re trying to keep him inside before he’s even all the way in. Your jaw falls open. He moans so loud into your shoulder you nearly lose balance.
“Oh ...oh fuck angel—angel, you’re so tight—fuck, I can’t—”
You both gasp, frozen, as you sink down another inch. It’s like a punch to your stomach and your cunt at the same time—hot, overwhelming, raw and perfect. Your thighs tremble. Your nails dig into his shoulders.
“I can feel everything,” you sob. “You’re so big, Satoru, you’re splitting me open.”
He’s crying. A little. From how tight you are. From how warm. From the way your pussy clenches around him like you love him already and he hasn’t even bottomed out yet.
“Tell me when to stop,” he pants. “Tell me if I hurt you.”
“You’re not,” you gasp. “Don’t stop—don’t stop. I need you.”
You sink lower. Lower. Inch by inch, your walls stretch around him, pulsing with slick heat.
Then— you bottom out.
And it feels like your whole body is going to break open from the pressure, from how full you are.
You bury your face in his shoulder. “I’m full. I’m so fucking full, I can feel you in my stomach—”
His hips twitch and he sobs again.
“I’m inside,” he whispers. “You’re letting me in. You’re my first—”
You press your lips to his ear. “You’re my first, too.”
And then— you rock.
Gently. Testing how much you can move.
And his hands slam down on your hips like he can’t take it. His cock twitches inside you, and your walls clench around him in response.
You moan.
He moans louder.
Then you start riding him, slow and messy. Tight little bounces, up n down. Just enough to feel the stretch, the slide, the overwhelming wet heat of your cunt clinging to him like your body doesn’t want to let go. It’s all instinct and desperation. The sounds of skin against skin, of slick, needy friction echoing in the tiny dorm room.
Your thighs are shaking. His hands won’t stop gripping, guiding, worshiping.
“Fuck, angel— fuck, you’re riding me—”
You cry out. “You’re so deep— I-I can’t—I feel you in my chest—”
He bucks into you by accident and you scream, throwing your head back.
“Did I hurt you?!”
“N-no—again, do that again—”
He does. And you swear you go cross-eyed.
The rhythm is clumsy. Awkward. Your knees are slipping and his hips stutter, but you don’t care. You don’t care about perfect. You care about how he moans your name like a prayer. How your pussy makes that wet little schlk sound every time you take him down to the base.
“I’m gonna cum,” he gasps. “I’m gonna—fuck, I can’t hold it—”
You grab his cheeks, force his eyes to meet yours.
“Cum in me,” you whisper. “Please. Make a mess inside me.”
His cock throbs violently.
“Angel—fuck—I love you—”
He explodes.
It’s hot. You feel it fill you— pulse after desperate pulse. Sticky, thick, messy. It overflows instantly, leaking between your thighs and down his cock while you grind and cry out again, cumming right after him. You shake through it— sobbing, clenching, writhing in his lap like your body doesn’t know how to survive this much fullness.
You collapse against his chest.
His hands cradle you.
He’s panting. Moaning your name over and over.
“I’ve never felt anything so good,” he whispers.
You kiss him then, slow and shaky-sweet.
“Neither have I.”
And then you both fall backward onto the bed, tangled, ruined, still joined at the hips.
You stay that way for a long, long time.
You’re still straddling him.
Bare thighs trembling. Pussy aching. His cock softening slowly inside you, twitching with little aftershocks, buried deep in your cunt and leaking. You can feel it. His cum—so much of it— pooling hot and sticky inside your body. Seeping out in slow, obscene dribbles every time you shift or twitch.
It’s messy. You’re flushed and overwhelmed, shivering through the afterglow and clinging to his hoodie like a lifeline.
And Satoru Gojo is staring between your legs like he’s entranced.
You glance down. Follow his line of sight.
There’s a little stream of milky white trickling from where he’s still inside you, slipping down between your folds and soaking into the mess of his hoodie bunched beneath your ass. You clench involuntarily and more leaks out— sticky-warm and filthy.
Satoru groans.
“I can see it.” His voice is wrecked. “It’s—fuck, it’s dripping out of you. That’s my cum. Inside you.”
You moan softly, hips rocking like you’re chasing the stretch again.
His hands grip your waist.
“I wanna clean you up,” he whispers, breath hot against your cheek.
You blink, dazed. “I can just— get a towel, or—”
“No. Not like that.”
You look down. He’s already pulling out—slowly— and you both gasp as his softening cock slips free of your pussy, followed immediately by a thick, wet gush of cum that drips from your folds in slow, shiny strands.
Satoru watches it fall.
Then he drops to his knees.
Right between your thighs.
“Satoru— what are you—”
“I need to,” he says, voice low, eyes blown wide and desperate. “Please. Let me clean it with my mouth.”
You can’t even think. Not with the way he’s looking at you like you’re something divine, something sweet and holy and soaked in his mess. His hands part your trembling thighs and he moans at the sight of your sticky, cum-dripping pussy glistening in the soft dorm light.
“Angel,” he whispers, reverent. “You’re ruined. I made such a mess.”
You reach down, brush his hair back. “Then clean it up.”
He dives in.
His tongue slides through your folds— warm, flat, soaking up the slick with long, filthy licks. You scream, thighs snapping around his head, because you’re so sensitive, still throbbing from your orgasm, and now his tongue is licking up his own cum from your pussy like he’s starving.
You squirm. Whimper. Try to push him back. “S-Satoru—s'too much—!”
He groans into your cunt, arms wrapping around your hips, holding you down like he’s not letting go until you’re clean.
“Can taste you,” he pants between licks. “You and me, mixed together—fuck, it’s so sweet—”
You throw your head back, moaning like a girl gone dumb.
His mouth is everywhere— lapping up the mess he made, licking into your hole, nosing against your clit until you’re gasping through gritted teeth, thighs shaking violently.
You’ve never felt anything like it.
It’s so dirty. So loving.
So deeply, terrifyingly intimate.
“Satoru—please—”
“Cum again,” he begs. “One more. Let me taste it fresh.”
And you do.
You cum with a sob, hips jerking, pussy leaking fresh slick into his mouth. He groans, drinks it, licks until you’re sobbing and twitching and clinging to his hair like you don’t know who you are anymore.
When he finally pulls back, his is face wet, chin shining, cheeks pink and you’re spread wide, limp, flushed from your ears to your tits and totally wrecked.
He climbs over you, kisses your forehead, then your lips, slowly, letting you taste yourself, his cum, the sweat and breathlessness of your shared first time.
“You’re my favourite thing,” he whispers.
You start crying.
He cradles you, strokes your hair, tucks you against his chest and wraps a blanket over your trembling body.
“I want you again,” you whisper.
He kisses your hair.
“I’m yours now,” he says. “So anytime you want me… I’m yours.
i really cannot stand the character archetype in film of the "unpopular nerdy ugly girl" being portrayed by the most conventionally attractive, thin, clear-skinned actress ever you cannot tell me that amanda goddamn seyfried was some fugly lesbigay loser as a foil to megan fox you cannot tell me beloved babyfaced winona ryder was a social outcast at her school you cannot convince me that rachel sennott and ayo edebiri are notoriously "ugly, untalented gays" even riverdale lampshaded this by fully acknowledging that cheryl shouldnt have starred as carrie in the school play and it shouldve been ethel cause ethel is The Fat One Nobody Likes and ethel even IS chubby enough that you could actually consider her "fat" but she's still an acceptably Cute type of fat but in the end she STILL gets denied the role anyway. real ugly and/or fat girls are straight up not allowed to exist on camera even when the narrative tells you they're there they're not actually there. im just so tired. where is the acne. [flinging myself against the walls of my padded cell] where is the acne where is the acne wwhere is the fucking acne
Beating up students and teenagers with lathis, bashing them and throwing tear gas shells on them during a protest is Democratic??
The people have the constitutional right of dissent and protest against the government's bad decisions
Opposing this right directly takes away the rights of citizens and validity of our constitution
Also theyre just marching, its a peaceful protest. It didnt start getting violent until the police stepped in. What even are the notebook and pen carrying students who just want a fair system gonna do to grown armed men with weaponry
Be fucking for real we are seeing this government turn into a dictatorship
I hate you Ozempic craze I hate you 'heroin chic' I hate you weight loss ads on public radio I hate Burn Fat Fast ads every thirty seconds I hate you I hate you I hate you
If a man ever said " you're my property " to me, he's getting punched and pepper sprayed at the same time. All the while my hg is calling animal control to get this disgusting animal away from us.
sonam wangchuk literally went on a hunger strike because apparently asking for basic democratic accountability now requires starving yourself. think about how absurd that is. the whole point of a nonviolent protest is that it appeals to the conscience of the public, who then pressure the government to act. but if the audience shrugs, the government learns the exact opposite lesson: that it can simply wait for people to get tired, weak, or disappear from the headlines.
this is how states manufacture radicalisation. when every peaceful avenue is ignored, people eventually stop believing peace works. no one is born convinced that confrontation is the only language power understands. they're taught that lesson by administrations that treat fasting, marching, petitions, and dialogue as background noise. if indians refuse to put sustained political pressure on governments when people choose nonviolent resistance, don't act shocked when future movements conclude that peaceful protest achieves nothing. that's not because violence is justified. it's because you've systematically devalued every alternative.
