SYPNOSIS .ᐟ after a long and torturous exam period and thus forced period of forced celibacy, your boyfriend is unbearably horny
INCLUDES ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ 18+ content, nsfw, nerdjo, college au, thigh humping, embarrassed satoru, begging, horny and desperate satoru after weeks of no action, humiliation, cumming in pants, puppy play, desperate needy sex, frottage, unprotected sex, creampie, begging to cum inside
A NOTE FROM IVY ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ i was halfway to sleep when i thought of this
Satoru’s dorm is dim except for the cheap desk lamp, the kind that makes everything look warm, soft, golden. It pools over messy notebooks stacked in teetering piles, whiteboards covered in half-finished equations, a cracked mug with dried coffee at the bottom. His sheets still smell faintly like your perfume from last time—sweet, clinging, something he’s buried his face into more than once.
There’s a movie playing on his laptop, some Marvel thing he’d usually be obsessed with, the kind where he'd excitedly whisper commentary to you, explaining superpowers and comic parallels. But tonight he’s quiet. Too quiet.
You notice the signs instantly—the restless fingers tugging at the hem of his hoodie, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, his thighs shifting restlessly under the blanket like he can’t get comfortable. His cheeks are pink. You try not to smile.
You guys haven't fucked in a couple weeks—on account of exam season leaving Satoru buried in papers and equations and you essays and notes, nights spent studying with the power of red bull, shitty instant coffee and the lord's will. Satoru had been devoured by math in the way only he could be—whiteboards covered in looping proofs, notebooks full to the margins in handwriting that got sloppier the more genius it became. You’d find him asleep at his desk sometimes, cheek smushed against graph paper, mechanical pencil still in hand like he meant to finish the equation in his dreams.
And it seems now that it's over, every paper finished, every question answered in Satoru's messy brilliant scribbles, he's restless. Because he's starving to touch you, to be touched. He's craving it. Not food or sleep or whatever else he's been low on since exams started, just you. And in Satoru fashion, he doesn't know how to say it, so he suffers in silence. Because Satoru Gojo can talk for hours about astrophysics, about paradoxes, about probability structures—but the second he has to say “Can you please please touch me because I need it so freaking bad?,” his brain fries like an egg on a cheap dorm stove. So he suffers in his own self-imposed hell.
As if he isn't incredibly obvious with the way his eyes keep drifting to your thighs. Then to your mouth. Then back to your thighs. Then back to the movie, pretending he never looked at all. He swallows hard—too hard—when you shift your position and your shirt rides up an inch.
"What's wrong, Toru?" you ask, soft, sweet, like you don't know what's got him all fidgety and distracted.
Satoru jolts slightly at your voice, back stiffening. "What? Nothing," he laughs, nervous and high. He's always been shitty at lying. You arch a brow at him, making him flush deeper.
“I—um , I just....” Satoru's fingers twist in his hoodie hem, teeth biting at his bottom lip nervously. “Can we— I mean, I was thinking now that exams are over maybe we could...”
You tilt your head, resting back against the bed frame as the movie plays on in the background, amused. “Could what?”
His eyes flick to yours and then away just as quickly, as if your gaze itself is too much.
“Touch me,” he blurts out, rushed and mortified and you try not to grin.
"Touch?" you ask, taking pleasure in how he's squirming under your eyes, trying not to combust.
"I just—" he swallows, throat bobbing, shifting in the sheets. "I'm so—" he breathes, swallowing.
"So what?" you tease and he almost whines at how you're pulling it out from him.
"So—" he's helpless. And so fucking horny. "I'm so horny—" he breathes out finally. words tripping over eachother in a rush, and he flushes mortified at himself.
"Yeah?" you murmur and you find it cute, how tongue tied he still gets even after months together, struggling to admit when he's horny and wants to fuck. Your exes would have hand their hands slipping under your skirt before the movie opening credits, but Satoru? Satoru would suffer through two and a half whole hours of a marvel film, shifting and distracted, too horny to think straight but unable to voice how desperate his dick is for you, keeping his hands to himself like the good boy he is.
“That's what you want?” you ask, soft, teasing with a small grin. "To fuck?" you voice drips honey on the word, and you watch the way Satoru's fingers fist in his thigh, breath hitching. So goddamn easy, you muse privately.
“Yes,” he breathes, voice breathless, ears burning red.
You sit back against his bed frame, skirt riding just enough for him to see. And he is looking—hungry, embarrassed, desperate. The kind of desperation he gets when he hasn’t let himself touch you in days because of exams. The kind that simmers under his skin and makes his breath come shallow.
"Say it properly Toru," you chide softly and his fingers twist deeper in his grey sweats, cock filling fast under the soft fabric.
"I—" he breathes out, eyes flicking down, embarrassed. "I wanna—" His teeth sink into his bottom lip. The same boy who weaves together theories about space and atoms like it's nothing, can explain complex theories and formulas, so good at talking until it comes to admitting how desperate he is to get off.
"Wanna what, baby? Use your words," you murmur, voice soft and cruel, pulling it out of him. And he loves it, you know he does. The humiliation of it all, admitting how desperate he is to fuck you, how he goes from cutting through theorems and theories to thinking purely with his cock, unable to think of anything but your pussy.
"I wanna— wanna fuck," Satoru breathes out, rushed, needy, desperate. His eyes screw shut, the humiliation coming off him in heady waves. "Please y/n—" he chokes out. Your grin curls deeper.
"Good boy," you coo softly and he whimpers then, soft, needy, unbearably horny and you haven't even touched him yet.
You crook one finger. Come here.
He crawls instantly. No hesitation, no thought, just instinct. Your boy. He folds into your body like he’s been waiting all night to be held.
You cup his jaw lightly. “My poor boy,” you murmur. “You’re all worked up, aren’t you? You just wanna be touched, don't you?”
"Yes,” he whimpers, helpless, but his hips betray him—rolling forward, slow, needy, grinding his hardening cock against your thigh.A choked moan leaves him—too whiney, too honest—and his hips grind faster, rubbing his cock against your thigh like he’s mindless.. “Please y/n—please touch me—" he practically whines.
You laugh softly, gentle, cruel—and oh, you definitely enjoy the way he melts at it, you always knew he had a small thing for humiliation.
His hips roll, bulge dragging against your thigh through his sweats and he shudders with a helpless gasp. You can feel how hard he is. Thick and straining in his sweats. You slide a hand into his hair and he whimpers, head pushing into your hand.
“Look at you,” you murmur, soft but edged with something mean that makes him whimper. “Rubbing yourself on me like you can’t help it.”
Satoru makes a broken sound—half gasp, half moan. “Yes—Yes—I’m so— I don’t—” He can’t form a sentence. He’s panting, hips moving faster, messy, uncontrolled. “I’m so horny—I’m so fucking—please—”
He grinds harder now, movements messy and urgent, chasing friction, chasing relief, his breath shaking against your skin. Your fingers stroke down his back, slow, comforting, teasing. His breath is gone—just whines and gasps and broken little sounds in your throat.
“F-fuck,” he whispers, almost crying from how good it feels, humping your thigh like he's in heat, like it's the only thing he can think about. His hips are moving without him even choosing to move them—little frantic thrusts, grinding down against your thigh like he’s half-feral with it. It should be embarrassing, it is embarrassing, and that makes it so much worse and better all at once. The power you hold over him, making him rock and whine against you, the leash you have on him that he wears willingly, eagerly, the way you have him in the centre of your palm, begging and whining to cum.
“Good boy,” you coo sweetly into his ear and his cock jerks in his sweats with a spurt of precum. “Use my thigh. Just like that.”
Satoru's hips jerk, mouth falling open, head tipping back. His eyes flutter shut. He’s lost in it now, lost in you and the sensation of finally being close after weeks.
"Y/n—" he whimpers, bulge dragging over your thigh. "Y/n—Please—"
You lean back against his bed frame, and wet your lips as you watch him rubs against your thigh needily, cock heavy and trapped by the soft fabric of his sweats. And you drink it in, the smartest boy in the room gone dumb because of how hard he is. Gone stupid just because of his own needy, throbbing cock. There are no star charts, no equations, just the friction that makes his brain go blank, filled only with the desperate need to cum, where Satoru Gojo, certified genius, stops being anything but your pretty boy desperately trying to cum.
“You need it, don't you baby?" you murmur softly and he whimpers weakly, nodding as his lashes fluttering over his cheeks, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he rolls his hips desperately chasing your soft slick heat.
“Need it—” Satoru whimpers. “Need it so bad.”
“Yeah?” Your fingers drag up his spine, spreading fire through his skin until they're in his hair. Then you pull and a broken whine breaks from Satoru's lips, leaning into the harsh touch, practically begging for more of it.
You guide his hips a little faster, letting him rut messily against you, cock heavy in his sweats, rolling his bulge against your thigh.
“Are you gonna cum just from humping my thigh, Satoru?” you ask, sweet and cruel all at once and it makes him dizzy.
He shakes his head—no, no, that’s embarrassing, that’s humiliating—but his body betrays him completely. His hips stutter—once—twice and then he shatters.
And when his orgasm finally hits? His eyes roll back beautifully. His whole body tenses, cock pulsing, and he cums hard, spilling inside his sweats as he moans into your neck, voice breaking apart into incoherent gasps and noises. “Fuck—fuck—fuck,” he gasps, burying his face in your throat as his whole body shivers through it.
You stroke his hair lazily and he pants into your throat, swallowing through heavy fast breaths, and his voice is breathy and needy in your ear when he finally talks. "Can I fuck you now?" Satoru whispers weakly into your throat. "Please?"
And you hum, fingers sliding under his chin, tipping his face up so you can press your mouths together in messy kiss and Satoru moans into your mouth, needy and low. His lips chase yours, mouth opening easily for you when your teeth nip at his bottom lip, moaning when you lick into it, tongue tangling with his, making his cock throb weakly in his sweats, already starting to fill again, a testament to how bad he's been needing this.
"I need it—" Satoru whimpers into your mouth, broken and needy like his orgasm has dialed his need to ten. "Please—Please let me fuck you—"
You suck on his tongue and he moans, voice cracking, hips already pushing against yours.
"Yeah," you breathe, worked up too, too horny to tease and draw this out, the need heavy on your tongue, pressing down. "Yeah, Toru. C'mon, fuck me."
And he whines like that's permission. His fingers scrabble for your clothes, pulling off your skirt, your shirt, shoving down his own soaked sweats, his cock heavy between his legs as he crawls over you. He mouths over your tits through your bra, groaning muffled, tongue laving and lapping over the straining nipples, cock already beginning to slide against you, the slick wet heat of your pussy making him gasp.
Your fingers twine in his hair, shoving his face further into your chest and he sucks on a nipple obediently as his hips rock, dragging his flushed, heavy cock against you, the slick slide making you both moan, heavy and hot. His swollen cockhead nudges at your clit at every pass of his cock against you, your folds hugging him, and he whimpers at the feeling as he rocks against you.
"Please can I go inside—Please please please—" he gasps into your tits, mouthing at them hot and desperate, teeth grazing and making you arch with a moan, tugging at his hair.
"Yes—Yes fuck—" Your fingers tug harder at his hair and moans, low and relieved and desperate. His cock slides over your pussy, precum leaking all over your cunt, spilling over it as he wraps a fist around his length, guiding it over you once, twice and then slowly he sinks in.
"Fuck—Fuck—" Satoru cries out as your pussy stretches around him, taking every inch, as he whines like he's finally home. Your heat wrapped around him is so unbearably good. He's greedy for more of it, for your skin pressed to his, for the way you feel around him. He sinks deeper, inch by inch, and his jaw drops like he cannot keep it together. His forehead falls against yours. His breath is hot and desperate. He is holding on by threads.
"You're so—So warm—" he whines as he sinks in. He loves it more than anything, more than all the stars in the sky combined. Nothing in the galaxy compares to the feeling of being deep inside you. Nothing in him is academic brilliance or strategic genius anymore. Not sharp or clever. Just completely, fucking desperation for his girlfriend's pussy. Being inside you is the only thing his brain cares about, latching onto every clench of your cunt, the drag of your nails down his back, the hot feeling of your skin on his. All that is left is the heat of you around him—the slick pull, the soft tight pressure that his body understands more clearly than anything written on a chalkboard.
You drag your nails down his shoulder blades, sharp enough to make Satoru gasp. The reaction is instant. His hips jerk forward, burying himself completely, like his body chooses for him.
"Fuck," he chokes, voice shaking, like he's praying and swearing at the same time. "You feel so—So good. I can't—"
Satoru clings to you. You feel him clutch at you like you might melt away if he does not hold tight enough. His hips rock slow, deep, deliberate, each thrust hitting the same spot that makes both of you gasp. You squeeze around him and he lets out a noise that isn't even a word.
It doesn't take long for his thrusts to grow sloppy, desperate, rushed, his glasses crooked on his nose, skin flushed and sweaty. His cock drags against you in the best way, friction making him whine into your throat, hips snapping and chasing it, the pleasure humming under his skin, lighting up his nerves.
"Fuck fuck—oh—" Satoru gasps as he fucks into you, the headboard rattling against the wall, bed springs squeaking under the weight of Satoru's thrusts. He's fucking you into the sheets, a desperate animalistic speed that makes you gasp and moan, nails raking down his broad back.
"Satoru—Satoru fuck—" you gasp and he whines into your throat, sucking and laving at your skin, hips fucking into you with wet slaps, cock ramming into you, like he's desperate to get in deeper.
"Can't—can't—" he gasps as his fingers twist into the sheets, hips pistoning faster, and his fingers scramble for your thighs, pushing one up hastily making you gasp and arch. He moans as it opens you up wider, pushing your leg into the air, fucking into your pussy, pace growing erratic, rushed, helpless to anything but the feeling of you around his cock.
"Please—Please can I cum inside—hngh—Please let me cum inside—Pleasepleaseplease—" Satoru whines as he fucks into you and your eyes roll back, pussy clenching and making him cry out into your throat as he slams into you deep, cumming inside with hot, thick spurts. You cum around his cock, feeling the way his cock pulses inside you, hips still moving on instinct, pulling every drag of cum from his cock, until it's leaking out of you.
"Fuck—" Satoru breathes, folded over you, mouth open and panting against your throat in quick, hot breaths. "Oh my god," he breathes. "That was—That was insane—You're insane. I love you."
You laugh breathless and tired at that, utterly content with a heart filled with love and pussy stuffed full of cum. "Love you too, Toru," you whisper and he just smiles sleepily against your throat.
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