แญกเญง OFF LIMITS: Brotherโs Best friend!Satoru Gojo
แญกเญง synopsis: in which your brotherโs best friend, satoru gojo has spent years keeping his distance, treating you like the little sister heโs supposed to protect. but when your brother leaves town and asks him to โkeep an eye on you,โ the careful line heโs been walking finally starts to crack. what was meant to be an innocent visit to check on you quickly turns into something forbidden and filthy, something neither of you can walk away from anymore.
แญกเญง pairings: brotherโs best friend!satoru x fem!reader
แญกเญง c. warnings: heavy yearning, heavy sexu-al tension (like super heavy!), emotional restraints, dry hum-ping, protected se-x, ti-ts play, sp-it play (?), mutual pining, did i say heavy se-xual tension? slight size kink, overstim, thigh rid-ing, we have an aftercare this time yayyyy! โ word count: 7.2k+
youโve known satoru gojo since you were six years old and he was twelve, the loud, white-haired boy your older brother dragged home after school like a stray cat he refused to leave behind.
back then satoru was all gangly limbs and bright blue eyes, always stealing your snacks and letting you ride on his shoulders when your brother got tired of carrying you. the three of you became a little unit almost instantly. movie nights on the living room floor, summer afternoons at the park, late-night video games where satoru would let you win just to watch you cheer.
your brother was officially his best friend, but somewhere along the line the lines blurred.
you were never sure if satoru was your brotherโs best friend or yours. he was justโฆ satoru. the constant reminder in your life who knew how you liked your ice cream and remembered your favorite color even when you changed it every month.
years passed and the dynamic shifted without anyone noticing at first. you grew up, and growing up consisted of puberty.
satoru grew taller, broader, more dangerously handsome with that lazy grin that made girls at school blush. but you stayed the little sister in everyoneโs eyes, the one who tagged along behind her brother and his best friend, the one who fell asleep on the couch between them during horror movies, the one satoru would tuck a blanket over with gentle hands while your brother snored on the other side.
everyone else thought like that but satoru. satoru noticed the changes. he noticed the way your legs got longer, the way your laugh got softer and feminine, the way your body filled out in ways that made his throat tight and his thoughts guilty. he told himself it was nothing. you were his best friendโs little sister, which meant youโre off-limits. and by off-limits, youโre a forbidden fruit he wasnโt allowed to even look at for too long or he would rot you with his dirty thoughts.
nobody sensed how he started pulling away in small ways when you turned eighteen. longer gaps between visits, fewer sleepovers, more excuses about being busy with college and then with work. but he never stayed away completely. satoru couldnโt.
every time he saw you he felt that familiar pull, the way his chest tightened when you smiled at him like he hung the moon for you. the way his cock would twitch traitorously when you wore those tiny shorts around the house in the summer every time he came over and god, he hated himself for it because right after heโs done, he would go home after and jerk off in the shower with his jaw clenched, whispering your name like a curse while hot water beat down on his back, telling himself it was the last time.
it was never the last time.
now youโre twenty-two and heโs twenty-eight. your brother still treats you like the kid who used to beg for piggyback rides. satoru still calls you โboogersโ sometimes, but the word tastes bitter on his tongue now.
the three of you still hang out, still have movie nights from time to time since satoru could never say no to your asking, he joins your family and still act like nothing has changed. but everything has. satoru can barely look at you without feeling the weight of all those years of wanting. he watches the way you move around the kitchen in your sleep shorts when youโre getting snacks ready for the movies, the way your t-shirt rides up when you reach for something on the top shelf, the way you laugh at his stupid jokes and rest your head on his shoulder like itโs the most natural thing in the world.
every innocent touch feels like torture. every time your thigh brushes his on the couch he has to fight the urge to pull you into his lap and show you exactly what you do to him.
this time your brother is out of town this weekend for a work trip he couldnโt get out of.
he left satoru with the spare key and the casual instruction to โkeep an eye on her.โ satoru laughed it off on the phone, responding with a choked โyeah, โcourse, i got you man.โ but the second he hung up his mind was already spinning. he told himself heโd just check in once, maybe bring some takeout, make sure you werenโt lonely and nothing more.
but fuck was he wrong, cause satoru only lasted exactly four hours before your text came through:
โmovie night? the new horror one just dropped. brotherโs gone so no one to complain about the jump scares :)โ
he stared at the message for ten full minutes. then thatโs when he grabbed his keys, all thoughts starting to get pumped to his dick.
when he knocks on your door itโs a little after ten. you open it wearing your usual oversized, small ribbons printed t-shirt and those damn cotton shorts that have haunted his dreams for years. your skin is soft under the radiating light from the porch, face bare, and you smile at him like heโs the best part of your night.
shit. satoru feels his stomach drop.
โhey, you came,โ you say, stepping aside to let him in. your voice is casual, warm, the kind of voice that used to make him feel safe and now makes his cock stir in his sweatpants.
โcouldnโt let you watch horror alone,โ he replies, forcing that tired, loose grin. he holds up the bag of snacks like a peace offering. โbrought the good stuff.โ
you laugh and it hits him straight in the chest. he follows you to the living room, trying not to stare at the way the hem of your shorts teases him in front of him. the fabric riding up with every step. the tv is already on, lights dimmed, blankets piled on the couch. you settle in your usual spot, patting the cushion beside you. satoru sits, puts the snacks down onto the coffee table, leaving what he hopes is a respectful distance, but you immediately scoot closer, tucking your legs under you and leaning your head against his shoulder like always.
maybe your nickname was not supposed to be boogers but dumbass cause you donโt seem to take sign on how youโre making it hard for him to stay normal and sane. or so he thought.
the movie starts. the opening credits roll. satoru tries to focus on the screen. he really does. but all he can feel is the warmth of your body against his side, the soft press of your bare thigh against his, the faint vanilla scent of your shampoo. his hand rests on the back of the couch, fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder when he shifts.
every innocent touch feels loaded tonight. the house is too quiet without your brotherโs loud commentary. itโs just you and him and years of unspoken tension hanging heavy in the dark.
halfway through the first act you stretch, arms lifting above your head, shirt riding up to show a strip of soft stomach. satoruโs eyes flick down before he can stop them, fingers twitching not to touch you and when you settle again your leg presses fully against his. he doesnโt move away. instead his fingers brush your shoulder again, slower this time, thumb stroking once along your skin.
โcold?โ he asks, voice quieter than he means.
you shake your head, tilting your face up to look at him. your eyes are soft in the glow of the tv. โno. just getting comfortable.โ
he swallows hard. his hand drops from the couch to rest lightly on your upper arm, thumb still stroking slow circles. the touch is supposed to be casual but it isnโt. at least thatโs what satoru knows.
the movie keeps playing but the man sitting next to you is not really watching anymore. the air between you feels thicker, warmer, charged with everything youโve both been pretending doesnโt exist for years.
satoruโs jaw clenches. he can feel his cock starting to thicken in his sweatpants, the traitorous heat building low in his gut. he tells himself to stop. he tells himself youโre his best friendโs little sister. he tells himself a lot of things.
you shift again, turning slightly so your knee brushes his thigh. and lord knows how heโs struggling not to make a sound, especially when your voice is barely above a whisper when you speak.
โsatoru?โ
he looks down at you, blue eyes dark in the low light. โyeah?โ
you bite your lip, just for a second, and the small movement sends another rush of blood straight to his cock.
โyouโve been really quiet tonight.โ
fuck.
he forces a laugh, but it comes out strained. โam i?โ he asks. โjust focused on the movie.โ his reply doesnโt satisfy you and you donโt look convinced so your hand rests lightly on his chest, right over his heart. โliar.โ you call him out.
liarโฆ
the sting of the word is heavy because satoru is not the only one suffering alone here, youโre a liar as well. and youโre pretending none of this is eating you alive when thatโs exactly how itโs been for you since satoru came to your house.
youโve been stiff as a board since the moment you sat down, even though youโre trying so hard to act normal. you can feel it in the way his shoulder has gone tight under your cheek, the way his breathing isnโt quite as steady as usual, the way his long fingers keep flexing against the couch like he doesnโt know what to do with them.
the tv flickers soft blue light across both of you, painting shadows over his sharp jaw and the faint flush creeping up his neck, but youโre not watching the movie anymore. youโre watching him, noticing every detail.
your hand stays light on his chest, right over his heart, and you can feel how fast itโs beating under your palm. thump-thump-thump, way too quick for someone whoโs supposedly just chilling on the couch. you shift a little closer, letting your bare thigh press more firmly against his โ testing water โ and thatโs when you notice it full.
the soft, heavy bulge under the dark blue-black sweatpants heโs wearing. itโs not fully hard yet, but itโs definitely there, thickening slowly against the loose fabric, the outline just visible every time the tv screen flashes brighter. your stomach flips, heat pooling low between your legs because you did that. youโre doing that to him right now, just by sitting here in your tiny shorts with your head on his shoulder like you always have.
the tension sits thick and heavy between you, wrapping around every small movement. every time you breathe, your chest brushes his arm.
every time he shifts, his thigh presses harder against yours. the air feels warmer than it should, like the room itself is holding its breath along with both of you. you can smell his cologne mixed with the faint mint from his gum, and underneath it all something warmer, something that makes your mouth water.
satoruโs hand on your upper arm hasnโt stopped moving. his thumb keeps stroking those slow, careful circles, but now each pass feels heavier, more deliberate, like heโs fighting the urge to slide his whole palm down your skin.
you tilt your head up a little more, letting your breath fan across the side of his neck. his jaw clenches. you watch the muscle jump, watch the way his adamโs apple bobs when he swallows. the bulge in his sweatpants twitches again, growing thicker, the fabric starting to tent just enough that you can see the clear shape of him.
your own body reacts instantly, a warm rush between your thighs, your nipples tightening under the thin t-shirt. youโre suddenly aware of how little youโre wearing, how your shorts exposed so much skin the bottom curve of your ass is almost showing, how your shirt keeps slipping off one shoulder no matter how many times you fix it.
satoruโs fingers tighten on your arm for half a second before he forces them to relax. his breathing has gone shallow. you can feel the heat pouring off him, the way his thigh muscles are locked tight under your leg. the movie keeps playing, some girl screaming on screen, but none of you flinch and the only sound that matters is the quiet hitch in his breath when your knee accidentally nudges higher up his leg, brushing right against the side of that growing bulge.
he doesnโt pull away. he stays perfectly still, like moving even an inch might break whatever fragile control he has left.
you bite your lip, heart hammering so loud youโre sure he can hear it. the flush on your neck is spreading, warm and prickly, and a tiny bead of sweat is already forming at the small of your back. you feel sticky and hot and aching, and all youโve done is sit here with your head on his shoulder.
the years of quiet โwantingโ press in harder tonight, sharper because your brother isnโt here to act as a buffer. itโs just you and satoru and the heavy, suffocating knowledge that youโre both thinking about the same thing.
satoru clears his throat suddenly, the sound rough and forced. he shifts, moving his arm from around you, and stands up in one quick motion. his sweatpants do nothing to hide how hard he is now, the thick outline pressing obviously against the front, the fabric stretched tight. he keeps his back half-turned to you like that will somehow fix it.
โuhโฆ i need some water,โ he mutters, voice low and strained. โor a coke. something cold.โ
you sit up slowly, fixing your shirt so it covers your shoulder again, but it doesnโt help much. your skin feels too warm, a light sheen of sweat already making the back of your neck sticky. your cheeks are flushed, you can feel the heat in them, and between your legs youโre starting to get embarrassingly wet, the thin cotton of your panties clinging to you. you swallow, trying to sound normal even though your voice comes out a little breathy.
โoh yeah, okay. itโs in the fridge. you know your way around.โ
satoru nods once, still not fully facing you, and heads toward the kitchen. his shoulders are stiff, steps a little too deliberate, like heโs forcing himself to put distance between you. you stay on the couch, legs pressed together, heart still racing and satoru disappears into the kitchen.
you stay on the couch, legs pressed tight together, trying to calm the flutter between your thighs. the movie is still playing but the sound feels distant, like itโs happening in another room. you can hear him open the fridge, the soft clink of a can, the quiet hiss when he cracks it open. a few seconds later he walks back in, coke in one hand, the other rubbing the back of his neck like heโs trying to shake something off.
heโs too distracted to consider bringing you one.
he looks at you for a long moment before he sits down again, this time leaving a little more space between your bodies but it doesnโt help.
the air still feels charged, heavy with everything neither of you has said out loud. you notice the way his sweatpants still sit a little awkwardly, the thick line of his cock not fully softened, pressing against the fabric every time he shifts, manspread awkwardly.
your own skin is warm and sticky, a faint sheen of sweat on your neck and between your breasts, your nipples tight and sensitive under the thin t-shirt.
satoru takes a long sip of the coke, throat working, then sets the can on the coffee table. when he leans back against the couch his arm brushes yours again, and this time he doesnโt pull away. his fingers find your shoulder once more, but instead of the casual thumb strokes from before, his whole palm settles there, warm and heavy.
it seems heโs calmed a bit.. which means youโre the one whoโs suffering hundred percent.
โyou okay?โ he asks, voice low, a little rough around the edges.
you nod, but it feels like a lie. โyeahโฆ just warm in here.โ
his eyes flick down to the flushed skin of your neck, then lower to where your shirt has slipped off your shoulder again. he doesnโt say anything, but his thumb starts brushing the bare skin near your collarbone. the touch is slow, almost absent, but it sends heat straight down your spine. you shift like youโre under a spell without thinking, your bare thigh sliding against his again, and this time your knee nudges right against the side of his cock through the sweatpants.
satoru inhales sharply. his hand slides from your shoulder down your arm, stopping at your wrist. his thumb presses lightly against your pulse point, feeling how fast your heart is racing.
โyouโre shaking,โ he murmurs.
โso are you,โ you whisper back.
the only light flickering on both of you is the glow from the tv, casting soft blue and white across both of you. satoru turns his head to look at you fully, blue eyes dark and conflicted, pupils blown wide as if heโs high. his free hand comes up, hesitating for half a second before he cups the side of your face, thumb brushing your lower lip.
โthis is a bad idea,โ he says, eyes dancing over your lips but he doesnโt sound convinced. his voice is thick, breath warm against your mouth.
โthen why does it feel so good?โ you have no idea how words are forming in your mouth when your brain disconnected from your tongue a long time ago, and the only option you have is leaning into his touch.
he lets out a quiet, broken sound, half groan, half sigh. his thumb presses a little harder against your lip, parting it slightly. you part your lips more, letting the tip of his thumb slip just inside, brushing against your tongue. satoruโs eyes flutter for a second, jaw tight.
โfuckโฆ youโre killing me.โ
you suck gently on his thumb, just enough to make his breath hitch. his other hand slides down to your waist, gripping the fabric of your shirt like heโs anchoring himself. the tension snaps slowly, like a rubber band stretching thinner and thinner until it finally gives.
satoru pulls his thumb from your mouth with a wet sound and replaces it with his lips. the kiss starts soft, almost careful, lips sliding together warm and slow. but the second you make a small needy sound in the back of your throat he deepens it, tongue licking into your mouth, hot and hungry. years of holding back pour into that kiss, all the stolen glances, all the guilty nights in the shower, all the times he told himself no.
his hands slide down to your hips, gripping firmly as he pulls you sideways until youโre straddling one of his thick thighs. the moment your core settles over the hard muscle you both moan quietly into the kiss. your soaked panties press right against his leg, the thin cotton already clinging to your folds from how wet you are. satoruโs fingers dig into the soft flesh of your ass, guiding you into a slow, rolling grind.
you start moving. slow, deliberate rocks of your hips that drag your swollen clit along the firm muscle of his thigh. every pass makes the fabric of your shorts and panties rub against you, the friction hot and slick and perfect. each roll pushes more wetness out of you, soaking the cotton until it clings transparently to your pussy. satoru groans low in his chest when he feels the damp heat spreading across his thigh, his cock twitching hard in his sweatpants, the thick head nudging against your inner thigh with every grind.
he breaks the kiss with a wet sound, lips shiny, breathing ragged. his mouth trails down your neck, sucking softly at the sensitive skin, then lower, until his lips brush over your collarbone. when he reaches your chest he doesnโt push your shirt up. instead he closes his mouth around one of your pebbled nipples right through the thin fabric.
the sensation is immediate and filthy. his tongue swirls slow and heavy over the stiff peak, soaking the cotton instantly. warm spit seeps through the material, making it cling to your breast, turning the white fabric translucent.
he sucks gently at first, then harder, pulling your nipple deeper into his mouth while his tongue flicks fast and wet. the wet patch grows, dark and shiny, the outline of your hard nipple completely visible through the soaked shirt. every pull of his mouth sends sharp sparks straight to your clit, making your hips roll faster against his thigh.
โmmhโฆ fuck,โ he groans against your chest, the vibration traveling through the damp fabric. โlook at you. letting me cover you with my spit. your bodyโs so fucking readyfor me already, yeah?โ
he switches to the other nipple, sucking it deep into his mouth with a wet, obscene sound. more drool collects from the corners of his lips, smearing down the front of your shirt in shiny trails, soaking the fabric until both your tits are glistening and see-through. the cool air hits the wet patches and makes your nipples ache even more, stiff and sensitive under his relentless mouth. he keeps sucking noisily, alternating between slow, deep pulls and quick flicks of his tongue, you could swear his spit is probably dripping down your stomach now, making the front of your shirt stick to your skin.
youโre grinding harder, hips rolling in needy little circles, clit dragging over his thigh with every movement. the friction is slick and constant, your soaked panties sliding against the hard muscle, the wet sounds of fabric rubbing together mixing with the filthy noises his mouth makes on your chest. your hands are in his white hair, tugging gently, soft whimpers and gasps spilling from your lips every time he sucks particularly hard.
satoruโs cock is throbbing visibly in his sweatpants, the thick ridge pressing insistently against your inner thigh, leaking enough that a small dark spot has formed at the front. every time you grind forward the head of his cock nudges closer to your core, teasing you both with how close he is to where you both desperately want him to be.
he pulls back just enough to look at the mess heโs made. your shirt is completely ruined, plastered transparently to your tits, nipples dark and shiny with his spit, little droplets still sliding down your stomach. his eyes are heavy-lidded, breathing ragged, lips swollen and wet.
โso fucking pretty,โ he murmurs, voice rough and low. โyโknow how iโve been dreaming about marking you up like this for years? look how filthy i got youโฆ your brother will fuck me up.โ
he leans in again, mouth latching back onto your nipple through the drenched fabric, sucking harder while his hands grip your ass tighter, helping you grind faster against him. the wet, messy sounds fill the room โ his mouth sucking noisily, your slick panties sliding over his thigh, both of you breathing hard and shaky.
the tension is thick and suffocating, every slow grind and every wet kiss pushing you both closer to the edge without either of you saying it out loud yet.
after what feels like euphorically forever, satoru pulls back from your chest with a wet pop, lips shiny and swollen, eyes heavy as he looks at the absolute mess heโs made of your shirt.
his breathing is ragged, chest rising and falling fast under his hoodie, and for a second he just stares at you like he canโt believe this is real. then his hand slips down, fingers dipping into the pocket of his sweatpants, and he pulls out a small foil packet. the condom glints under the dim light, and you raise a brow, lips parting in quiet surprise.
he catches the look and just shrugs, a lazy, almost sheepish tilt of his shoulders, causing your cheeks flushing darker. โhad to,โ he mutters, voice low and rough, like the words are being dragged out of him. โcouldnโt risk it. not with you.โ
you let out a soft, cheeky laugh, the sound breathy and teasing even though your heart is hammering. โyouโve always wanted to fuck me, huh?โ
satoruโs brows knit together instantly, that familiar stern little frown pulling at his face, but his eyes stay dark and hungry. โthatโs a vulgar word, boogers,โ he says, the nickname slipping out like habit, but thereโs no real bite to it. he leans in and presses a soft, almost tender kiss to the tip of your nose, lips brushing there gently before he pulls back just enough to look at you again. โi want to make you feel good. thatโs all.โ
you groan, half playful, half frustrated, and swat your hand lightly against his chest. โstop calling me boogers, toru. seriously!โ
he just hums, low and warm, the sound vibrating through his chest as his hands slide to your hips. he helps lift you a little higher on your knees, giving himself room, and shoves his sweatpants and briefs down in one smooth motion. they pool around his calves, leaving his thick cock springing free, heavy and flushed, the head already glistening.
he tears the foil packet open with his teeth, the sharp sound cutting through the quiet room, and the sweet strawberry scent of the condom fills the small space between your bodies, fruity and almost too innocent for how filthy this feels.
satoru rolls it down his girthy tip first, jaw tightening as the latex stretches over him. a soft, broken whimper slips out of him when the cool material slides along his sensitive head, his hips twitching once before he rolls it all the way to the base with steady fingers. the condom sits snug, shiny and strawberry-sweet, the faint pink tint of it catching the tv light. he looks up at you then, eyes dark and solemn, waiting.
his hands move to your shorts and panties next, hooking into the waistband and sliding them down your thighs together in one slow tug.
you lift your hips to help, and the soaked fabric peels away from your pussy with a wet sound, leaving you completely bare from the waist down. he doesnโt stop there. his fingers catch the hem of your spit-drenched shirt and peel it up and off, tossing it somewhere on the floor. now youโre completely naked in his lap, skin flushed and glowing under the flickering light, tits still shiny with his dirty work, pussy glistening and swollen from all the grinding.
satoru is still mostly dressed, only his hoodie on, sweatpants and briefs shoved down to his calves, the contrast making everything feel even unholy. he licks a bold stripe across his palm, tongue dragging slow and wet, then reaches between you and swipes the slick hand over your folds. the touch is warm and deliberate, fingers spreading your wetness, thumb brushing your clit once before he grips the base of his cock and guides the thick, condom-covered head to your entrance.
he presses in slow, so slow, the blunt tip stretching you open inch by careful inch. his brows knit tight with concentration, eyes locked on your face, watching for any flicker of pain or discomfort. you feel every thick ridge as he sinks deeper, the stretch burning sweet and full, your walls fluttering around him.
your eyes start to haze, lashes fluttering, jaw going slack as the overwhelming sensation of being filled by him hits you. your breathing stutters, lips parted on a silent gasp, completely detached for a moment while your body adjusts to the heavy, girthy length pushing inside.
satoru knew you were small compared to him but never did he think youโd be struggling to fit his fat cock in your tight cunt this much.
satoru stays perfectly still once he bottoms out, hips flush against yours, breathing hard through his nose. his hands grip your waist tight, thumbs stroking soothing circles on your skin as he waits, watching the way your eyes glaze over and your jaw hangs open. the strawberry scent mixes with the sharp smell of your arousal, the room quiet except for the low hum of the credit scene of the horror movie and the sound of both of you trying to breathe through the intensity.
โcan i move?โ he asks, voice low and calculated, almost a whisper, like heโs afraid to break the moment. his brows are still knitted, waiting for any sign from you.
you canโt find words right away. instead you just tap his shoulder once, twice, a small, mute signal that youโre okay, that you want this. satoru exhales shakily, relief and hunger mixing in the sound, and he starts to move.
at first itโs slow, careful rolls of his hips that drag his thick cock along your walls, the stretch burning so good it makes your breath hitch. you start grinding down to meet him, hips rolling in small, needy circles, your slick coating the base of his cock and smearing messily over the soft, dark trail of hair that runs from his navel down to where he disappears inside you. every grind leaves a shiny trail of your wetness glistening on his skin, the wet sounds squelching in the quiet room.
youโre vocal in little bursts, whispers of his name slipping out between shaky breaths. โsatoruโฆ toruโฆโ the words are breathy, almost reverent, filling the living room like a secret. your hands slide up his hoodie, fingers digging into his chest as you grind harder, chasing the friction, the fullness, the way he fills you so completely.
โtoo big.. youโreโ toru, fuuuck,โ you cry out.
satoru leans back against the couch, arms dropping to his sides for a moment, face going almost numb with pleasure. his blue eyes are half-lidded, lips parted, white hair messy and falling into his face as he watches you ride him. he looks completely under your spell, like the sight of you naked and grinding on his cock has short-circuited his brain. the curve of his cock jerks inside you when you desperately grab his hand and bring it to your tits, pressing his palm against the soft, post spit-slick flesh.
that seems to snap him back. his face shifts from dazed to focused in an instant, intention clear in the way his jaw tightens. he wants to make you feel good. thatโs all he cares about right now.
โi got you, yeah? โm here.โ
he braces himself, planting his heels firmly on the floor, one arm wrapping tight around your hips while the other hand stays on your breast, fingers tweaking and rolling your nipple between them. then he starts fucking up into you. the first thrust is deep and powerful, hips snapping up so his cock drives into you harder, the angle perfect, the thick head rubbing right against that spongy spot inside you that makes your vision spark.
โthatโs it, baby,โ he murmurs, voice wrecked but steady, focused entirely on you. โfeel good? tell me if itโs too much.โ
he sets a rhythm, slow at first but building, each upward thrust meeting your downward grind, the wet slap of skin on skin growing louder. his arm around your hips keeps you steady, guiding you, while his fingers keep playing with your nipple, pinching and tugging just enough to send sparks straight to your clit. every time he bottoms out you whimper his name again, softer, breathier, your slick continuing to smear over his happy trail and the base of his cock, making everything messy and shiny.
satoruโs eyes never leave your face. he watches every twitch of your expression, every time your lips part on a moan, every time your eyes flutter. his whole focus is on you, on making sure every thrust feels perfect, on drawing out those little whispers of his name until they turn into broken cries. he fucks up into you with controlled power, the condom sliding slickly inside your soaked pussy, sweat mixing with the sharp smell of sex.
he leans forward slightly, mouth finding your other nipple again, sucking it into his mouth through the remnants of dried spit still on your skin, tongue swirling while he keeps thrusting. the dual sensation โ his cock dragging inside you and his mouth on your breast โ makes your back arch, a louder moan spilling out this time.
โgood girl,โ he breathes against your wet skin, voice low and praising. โtaking me so well. just let me make you feel good, yeah? thatโs all i want.โ
his hips keep snapping up, steady and deep, the arm around your waist holding you down so you take every inch while his fingers keep working your nipple and his mouth keeps sucking the other. the living room fills with the wet sounds of him fucking into you, your soft whispers of his name, and the heavy breathing of two people who have waited years for this exact moment.
satoru keeps that steady, deep rhythm, hips rolling up into you with controlled power while his mouth stays busy on your tits.
every upward thrust drags his thick, condom-covered cock along your walls, the head catching perfectly against that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. his arm around your waist holds you down on his cock, the wet slap of skin meeting skin growing louder, messier, your slick continuing to smear over his happy trail and the base of his cock until the dark hair glistens with it.
he switches between sucking one nipple and tweaking the other with his fingers, tongue swirling slow and wet, spit dripping down your chest in shiny trails that catch the flickering tv light.
youโre riding him but barely, your hips grinding in small, desperate circles while he does most of the work, fucking up into you with deep, purposeful strokes that make your breath hitch every single time he bottoms out. your hands clutch at his hoodie, nails digging into the fabric as soft, broken whispers of his name keep slipping out โ โtoruโฆ satoruโฆโ โ the fruity scent of the condom mixes with the sharp smell of sex, filling the dark living room until itโs all you can breathe.
your legs start to twitch first. the muscles in your thighs quiver against his sides, small, uncontrollable tremors that travel down to your calves.
satoru notices immediately. his eyes flick down, watching the way your knees shake beside his hips, the subtle way your body is starting to tighten and flutter around him. a low, knowing hum vibrates in his chest and he shifts beneath you, sliding one arm under the knee closest to him. with a smooth, effortless motion he hooks it up and presses it toward your chest, folding you open even wider while youโre still on top of him.
the new angle spreads you so much more, your pussy stretching tighter around his cock, the head dragging harder against that perfect spot with every thrust.
you gasp sharply, the sound cracking in the back of your throat as the deeper penetration hits you all at once. satoruโs other arm stays banded around your waist, holding you steady, and now heโs fully in control even though youโre on top. he fucks up into you with stronger, deeper strokes, hips snapping with purpose, the wet squelch of your soaked pussy taking him echoing louder in the quiet room.
โcโmon, youโre gonna bless me, baby?โ he murmurs against your neck, voice rough and focused. โcome on my cock, there you go. you just gotta feel it.โ
your riding turns sloppy, hips stuttering as the pressure builds fast and overwhelming. your legs tremble harder, the one heโs holding to your chest shaking visibly. your walls start to flutter and clench around him in tight, rhythmic pulses, your slick gushing out around the base of his cock with every thrust. satoru groans low when he feels it, but he doesnโt slow down. he keeps driving up into you, steady and relentless, the arm under your knee keeping you spread wide and open for him.
you come hard.
your whole body folds forward suddenly, chest pressing against his as a broken, whining cry tears from your throat, your mouth is open and breathing straight into his mouth. your pussy clamps down around his cock in strong, pulsing waves, gushing wet and hot around him even through the condom. tears slip down your flushed cheeks, eyes squeezing shut while you sob his name in soft, overwhelmed whimpers โ โtoruโฆ fuck, toruโฆโ โ your hips jerking and twitching uncontrollably as the orgasm crashes through you.
satoru keeps fucking you through it, slower now but still deep, drawing out every pulse and every shaky sob. his hand on your waist rubs soothing circles while the other keeps your leg folded to your chest, holding you open so he can feel every flutter and gush. he presses soft kisses to your temple, your wet cheek, murmuring quiet praise against your skin as you tremble and cry in his lap, completely spent and folded against him.
tsatoru holds you close through the last trembling waves of your orgasm, his cock still buried deep inside your fluttering pussy. he presses gentle kisses to your damp temple then your flushed cheek, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back while you come down.
โiโm.. fuck, youโre so good to me.โ the way he grunts those words out shows you heโs not done yet.
his grip tightens on your waist and under your knee, and he starts fucking up into you again โ deeper than you thought was possible. each thrust is slow, powerful, and deliberate, driving his thick cock so far inside you that you swear you can feel him in your stomach.
the new angle has the head of his cock pressing right against that spot with every upward snap of his hips, stretching you open wider, filling you fuller than youโve ever been filled. the wet, filthy sounds of him plunging deep into your soaked pussy echo in the quiet living room, your slick leaking out around the base of his cock and dripping down his balls with every thrust.
โshitโฆ so deep,โ he groans against your ear, voice wrecked and low. โcan you feel me, baby? feel how deep iโm getting? thatโs itโฆ take every inch.โ
he fucks you with long, grinding strokes, hips rolling up hard and steady, the arm under your knee keeping you folded and spread so he can bury himself to the hilt every single time. your body jolts with each thrust, tits bouncing against his chest, soft cries and whimpers spilling from your mouth as the overstimulation turns into another building wave of pleasure.
satoruโs breathing grows ragged, his thrusts turning sharper, more desperate, the slap of skin on skin getting louder as he chases his own release.
โgonna come,โ he pants, forehead pressed to yours, blue eyes dark and hazy. โgonna fill you upโฆ fuck, you feel too good.โ
he drives in deep one last time, hips stuttering as he buries himself as far as he can go.
โfuuuck,โ a low, broken groan tears from his throat as he comes hard, cock pulsing thick and hot inside the condom while he grinds against you, drawing out every last spurt. his whole body trembles under you, arms locked tight around your frame as he empties himself, the strawberry-scented latex stretching with every heavy pulse.
for a long moment the only sounds are your shaky breathing and his quiet groans. he stays buried deep inside you, holding you close, the leg he had hooked to your chest gently lowered back down so you can relax against him. slowly, carefully, he pulls out, tying off the condom and setting it aside before he gathers you fully into his arms.
satoru shifts so youโre both lying on the couch, your smaller body draped over his chest, his hoodie soft against your bare skin. he pulls the blanket from the back of the couch (you didnโt notice that was there from the beginning.) over both of you, tucking it gently around your shoulders. one hand strokes slow, soothing lines up and down your back, the other cradling the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair.
โyou okay?โ he murmurs, voice soft and rough at the same time. he presses a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then your lips โ gentle, lingering kisses that feel like apologies and promises all at once. โdid i hurt you? was it too much?โ
you shake your head against his chest, still catching your breath, and he hums in quiet relief. he keeps touching you. slow strokes along your spine, gentle kisses to your shoulder, his palm rubbing warm circles over your lower back where youโre still a little sore. every touch is careful, tender, like heโs trying to memorize the way you feel in his arms now that the line has finally been crossed.
and now that his time with you is very limited. by limited:
โyour brother told me to keep an eye on you,โ the topic feels heavy already when he says it after a while, a small, tired smile tugging at his lips as he looks down at you. his fingers keep tracing lazy patterns on your skin. โif this is what it takesโฆ so be it.โ
so be the risk of making the person, his person whom he lovโ
realization hits and splashes on satoru like a bucket filled with water and ice. satoru loves. satoru loves you. he is in love, satoru loves someone who is a very much forbidden person.
he pulls you closer, wrapping both arms around you fully, the thought of your brother finding what he did to you can be stressed over for later, what matters now is your naked body tucked safely against his mostly-clothed one. the tv is still playing a new trailer for next movie faintly in the background, completely ignored.
satoru holds you like that for a long time โ warm, steady, protective โ pressing soft kisses to wherever his lips can reach, murmuring quiet praises and gentle nonsense until your breathing evens out and your eyes start to drift shut.
โtoru, do you think this is okay?โ your voice is muffled with how youโre both tangled together. he doesnโt reply at first so you take it as a sign to continue. โwhat are we gonna do after this? what if my brotโโ
โiโve got you,โ he cuts you off with a whisper against your hair, one last kiss pressed to the top of your head. โalways have and nothing will happen, just take some rest and weโll deal with it tomorrow.โ
he can feel your body relaxing the moment he says that and satoru smiles a little, his heart swelling of fonding.
the living room feels smaller and warmer now, the weight of years of tension finally settling into something softer, something real, as satoru keeps holding you close under the blanket, his hand never stopping its gentle strokes along your back before he himself is dozing off from reality.
feeling too tired from his post nut session his brain is blank.
guys am i made for long fics or should i just stick to my regular short drabbles/blurbs? I WANT TO KNOW!
Your boyfriend has been waiting for this moment, but when you see what he's packing!? You're a hundred percent sure this just won't work, he just simply won't fit. But Satoru Gojo is anything if not one to make sure he wins - and that includes proving you wrong.
pairings - Satoru x reader
warnings - MDNI -size difference, oral (f receiving) fingering, lots of foreplay, he literally is way too big, tummy bulges, creampies, cumplay, spitting, mild degradation/praise, obsessed/ pussy-drunk Satoru
this was a commission piece for @nyxiiiu hehe, and it's an absolutely filthy oneshot - 4k wc - enjoyy! <3 art is by @camy__min on X
โItโs not gonna work,โ youโd said it the moment you saw it โ Satoru Gojoโs pretty cock โ for the first time. โThereโs just no way.โ
Heโd laughed softly, his cock thick and veiny, length slapping his flat belly button then just hanging there so heavy, white drizzles of pre leaking down out of his pretty pink tip. Your core tensed, thinking of the ways heโd just ruin your insides, fuck your uterus up with that damn thing.
You love Satoru, you love his body too, and fuck you want him โ youโre always soaking wet any time he kisses you, but thereโs just no way that will work. Satoru sighs, seeing your apprehension, heโs got his hands cupping your face almost gently. Even as you shake your head, studying that thick, lengthy cock with wide eyes.
โBabyโฆโ
โOh no, Toru thereโs no way you get that in me, maybe the tip at best!? And Iโm not even sure that will.โ Your thumb brushes over the tip, swollen, cock so thick your fingers canโt even wrap it completely. โYouโre too big!โ
โThis is a manโs dream," heโs grinning all proud, but when you shake your head again he sighs. โSure it will, sweetheart, just lemme work my magic.โ
โMagic? Mnh!โ
Spreading your thighs wide, long fingers slip through the mess thatโs pooling out of your soppy hole, your hips jerk up in response. โMhm โ look, she already wants me inside her.โ
โOf c-course she does,โ you barely manage to breathe the words out, nipples puckered for one of his hands to brush against. โShe just canโt, youโre too โ ah!โ
Heโs spitting a gossamer trail down to your puffy lips, it lingers before it disintegrates and lands right on your cunt with a bubbly trail. You could swear Satoruโsย grin has become even more psychotic with those sharp white teeth, his blue eyes brilliant and bright, kissing a trail down your body slowly, between your breasts, over your tummy, and lower.
โAw, she loves it,โ he cooes those words practically, spreading those folds and flicking his tongue on your clit. Your hands entangle in his white silky locks, feeling his plump mouth smile on your overheated skin. โLook how cute she is.โย
The first wet flick makes even more arousal just pool out of your hole, slick and glittery for his eyes to feast on. They dilate at the sight of your cunt spasming around nothing, he watches it wink at him, watches it clench. He moans softly at how fucking pretty it is.
His eyes dart up to your arching body, gripping a tit while his tongue teases your hole, slipping in, squeezing your tits when they gently bounce with the jerky little motion, your reactions so evident. His breath ghosts teasingly over your cunt again, your flavor earning him even harder, rutting his cock against his mattress, dying to be buried deep in you.
โShe can take it,โ he murmurs, pressing a kiss on your cunt and smiling up at you. โI just know she can.
No, she couldnโt.
Satoru Gojo has been down there for half an hour between your thighs, working your little hole and stretching it on his huge, thick fingers. He started slowly โ with just one โ and even that hit you so deep you were crying out, so deep just those almost hit your cervix. Youโre spasming and drooling down his fingers, now heโs got two fingers slotted inside your slippery walls, curling them up.
Heโs been stretching you and trying to work you so that he can fit inside, but every ten minutes when he presses his tip in again to test, it just doesnโt fit. Heโs sweating, a little sheen of perspiration on his brow, lifting your thigh and resting it on his shoulder, thick pink tip just drooling white drips as he rubs it up and down your slit, trying tentatively again.
โFuck,โ heโs breathless, shaky on top of you, youโre soaked, your thighs trembling on either side of his narrow hips, he almost busts just getting into your tight ring of muscles, only to be blocked again. โYour pussy, sheโs too fuckinโ small for it.โ
โMe!? No, youโre too big for me!โ
โI didnโt think Iโd have this much trouble,โ he mumbles, brows drawing together, you cry out and whine when he tries to press in, gripping him so tightly he has to pull it back out, watching your hole drool down, moaning in frustration. โLoosen up, pretty please?โ
โSatoru, I am,โ youโre exhaling, trying to relax your muscles, but every time he starts to stretch you out it burns, his cock is even thickening more. โMake it stop being soโฆ itโs getting bigger!?โ
โWell fuck you feel sโgood,โ he grumbles, flipping you on your knees now, you gasp as he presses your back down. โLetโs try this, Iโll make you cum again first.โ
โItโll never fit โ ngh! S-Satoruuu!โ He almost cums just hearing your muffled cries, pressing you down by your pretty face, hand entangled in the nape of your neck, fingers moving up and down, up and down, pressure building in your core.
โThatโs it,โ he feels her loosening again, your ass arching up, but he doesnโt try again yet, even as his cock is fucking aching, a sticky mess from dying to fill you and being unable to. He exhales, two fingers pressing up until you gush. โThere you go, cum just fโme.โ
โS-satoru,โ your head falls to the side, his fingers slip to your clit and roll in little circles, moaning your name in your ear, tickling the sensitive skin as he blows little baby hairs around. โMnh!โ
โLetโs try this position, hmm?โ You nod eagerly, and heโs able to at least get his tip in, the sound of a filthy suctioned pop echoing in Satoruโs room โ as it pushes past your entrance.
Oh fuckโฆ
Satoru is gonna cum.
He closes his eyes and tenses โ how embarrassing!? Heโs not inexperienced but the size difference from his cock to your tight cunt is too much, itโs grippinโ him too good, he tests it and pushes more though, and you tighten up again, gasping.
โToo much, too much!โ
โIโm like not even two inches in,โ he says, all breathy, pulling out and pushing in again, only fucking you with that pink tip and nothing else. โFuck youโre doing too much, s-stop.โ
โMe!?โ You glare back at your boyfriend, pulling off and making him hiss, cock so sensitive. โY-youโre too much!โ
Satoruโs blue eyes flutter shut, a whimper escaping his mouth. โStop trying to push him out, your pussy is mean.โ
You giggle breathlessly, pushing him out again, gasping when you feel him pulse. โMnh, I made it worse.โ
โYou did,โ his hips jerk โ pressing his cock experimentally inside your hole, moaning then. โYouโre squeezinโ me too tight, my god.โ
Satoruโs cheeks flush, resting his head as his huge, lanky body looms over yours, pulling you further back, hearing your little moan in his ears. Heโs never felt something this good, the grip just begging for his cum, as if your cunt was milking him then and there.
โStop trying to knock yourself up before I even get in,โ he bites your shoulder and you giggle again, before crying out, feeling a half inch more in your walls. โI will not bust quick our first time.โ
โItโll never work though,โ youโre moaning as he presses in again, deeper this time, stretching you open so much you feel like youโre split in half. โOh god, youโre too deep, t-too much!โ
Satoru looks down, leaning back โ heโs got maybe two and a half inches in your puffy cunt. He sighs, gripping your ass cheeks, watching the slick mess run down his veiny length, dripping down balls so heavy that theyโre tensing, tightening.
โNot even a quarter of me is in your cunt.โ
โSeriously!?โ He flips you over again, back on your back with your thighs up, slipping two fingers and spitting down on them, swirling the mess and making your cunt click with every little circle. โMnh!โ
โIโll fit, I swear, no way I donโt get to feel her around me,โ he murmurs, slipping a third finger impossibly, you tighten up, earning a smack with his free hand on your pussy. โRelax, sweetheart.โ
โCanโt do three - ngh!โ Youโre spasming while he gently and easily inserts that third finger, holding your thighs up so you canโt clamp down. Youโre gripping those rumpled sheets, body trembling, cunt making a mess. โOh my godโฆโ
โThere you are,โ he murmurs, praying that he can just get inside you, like a cruel joke to make you both so anatomically incompatible. โLook at us.โ
He grips your chin, forcing you to look at his tip slipping in and out of your hole, teasing her with it then pulling back, a messy slippery trail falling out with the motion. He uses the pads of his thumbs to hold your swollen folds apart, eyeing the stretch. You suck in a breath, feeling the sting and tightening up as a cock too thick to even exist pushes inside you again.
โBreathe sweetheart,โ he murmurs softly, feeling you relax around him and exhaling in relief as you do. Your hands slip up his chest, nails digging into his shoulders while his own fingers digging into your hips roughly, trying to keep himself together. โEventually Iโll watch this tummy move with my cock.โ
โWha- ah!โ Youโre lost when Satoru pushes inward, you hear your own gasp, the slick squelch of your pussy as he moves, moaning and leaning back, watching another inch disappear impossibly.
His fingers slip down your trembling thigh, that thumb brushing your twitchy clit, already overstimulated, youโre tensing at the sensation, seeing the filthy sight of his cock pulsing, veins slick from you. Youโre trying to tense at it โ the thick invasion taking you over, not even half of Satoru โ and you swear heโs breaking you.
"Shhh," he murmurs, circling slow, relentless pressure right where you needed it most. "Just focus on that, on your cute little clit."
You arch into his touch, the burn of your stretched cunt easing when you focus, eyes fluttering shut. You feel yourself getting wetter, that hot arousal tricking down him, thumb slipping off for a moment how wet you are. โOh, mnh! Y-youโre so deep!โ
โYeah,โ heโs half in, smirking now as he grips your thigh, glossy with your own messy slick. His cock throbs inside you when you grip him again, spasming this time. His lashes flutter shut, pulling out and still toying your clit. โAh- ah, donโt tighten up, stop being a brat.โ
โBrat?โ You giggle, just making him pulse again, but you relax enough he can get a little more inside you, leaning over you now. You feel it โ that fullness low in your belly, pressing against your gummy walls that are trying to suck him in. โY-youโre distracting meโฆโ
โMhm,โ he smirks, far too fucking attractive, pulling out almost completely with a filthy, messy sound, easing back in with his cock pressing easier, watching your tummy move and groaning, hands bruising on your hips. โAnd you said it wouldnโt work.โ
You look down and blush furiously, watching the rise and fall as his cock fills you so full you canโt think, you see thereโs still a few inches he canโt get in. Just that wrecks you, tip dragging against your spot. He loses it then, going fucking feral โ his eyes are so bright with those shrunken pupils itโs hard to look into them. His lids get heavy, weight pressing over you, thigh shoved up.
โFeel sโfucking perfect,โ heโs whispering, a hand cupping your face sinking deeper in your snug little hole. โStretching her out, huh? Do you feel me?โ
You can only nod, eyes rolling back for a moment as he drags that spot again, heavy swollen cockhead pressing until itโs against your cervix. โAh!โ
Satoruโs trying so hard not to slam his cock into you, bottom out and drag your ass to him โ use you โ but he knows you are just barely taking him in without those damn muscles pressing him right back out. He just canโt stop himself from it when he kisses you messy, when he spits in your open mouth and your tongue is out, thighs shaking.
He shoves them up and folds you in half, getting the best view of those puffy lips all glossy, your hole stretched beyond its means, groaning at the sight. โLook at your tiny cunt getting ruined by me.โ
You see it, the moment Satoru gets pussy drunk, but you canโt focus when he slams his cock so deep it hurts, cock gliding in and out easier and easier with how messy you get. Youโre gasping out, heโs just grinning, now those damn eyes are black, huge hands pressing your thighs until they smush against your breasts, weight pinning them down.
โPerfect, just look at her, she wants me to ruin her, wants my shape, only mineโฆ fuckโฆโ
โT-toru Iโฆ ah!โ You canโt talk or form a thought when the sounds of skin smacking and your squelching, sloppy cunt fill the room โ mixing with that ache in your core, body shaking as you take more and more. โNgh!โ
โGonna fill you with sโmuch cum baby,โ heโs chuckling, even buried deep, leaning over you, silky white hair falling over a brow. โThat what you want, to drip me all day long?โ
You gasp out at the filthy vision, a flush decorating your cheeks that makes him murmur โ cute โ fucking into you until he bottoms out, balls smacking your ass where the arousal is pooling. โAh- ah- f-fuc- Iโฆ ngh, sโdeep!โย
Youโre too fucked out once that cock wrecks your insides, feeling him everywhere while folded into a mean mating press, your knees damn near on either side of your head, cunt sucking him so good. โHah, look she can take me, sheโs trying so hard, squeezing me โ ah.โ
Satoru doesnโt stop the babbling that spills from his mouth, a mix of praise, degradation and whimpers.ย
โFeel sโfuckinโ perfect babyโ โ โSlutty hole, sheโs so greedyโ โ โYouโre so pretty, godโฆโ โโMnh, does that feel good sweetheart? Hah, of course it doesโ
Satoru is completely psychotic, lost and on another plane of existence, your cunt is just milking him too good, your pretty eyes glimmering with tears as they try to roll back. Pussy drunk and lost in every sound, every movement.
โGonna put so much cum inside you, hahโฆโ he chuckles now, letting your thighs ease just a fraction so he can rest his forehead almost lovingly. โMโgonna make sure to fuck it back into you, then fill you up again, aw do you like that?โ
You barely nod, he grins against your lips, cock pressing deep and just staying, rolling his hips to nudge his pretty drooly tip, the pressure unbearable. โToru!โ
โYou can still talk?โ Youโre lost in it, as fucked out as he is when he cups your face with your thighs still shoved up, kissing you sloppy messy, cock grinding into your cervix when he finally bottoms out as much as he can. He swallows your gasps with his plump lips, his open mouth, you swallow his moans, struggling for a breath.
Heโs dragging his cock head against your cervix over and over, torturous little fucking circles with so much pressure, your nails slip into the skin on his back, leaving little crescent moons. Satoru groans at that, laughing softly.
โGonna mark me up?โ Your nails dig in deeper, leaving their marks, almost drawing blood while that sharp pleasure hits, and you feel yourself about to fade, more intense than his fingers, his mouth even.
โMโgonnaโฆ mmnph,โ youโre drooling as he slams his thick length in and out of your now sloppy little hole, pummelling it with every snap of his hips, making sure you feel him everywhere. You tighten up and he groans, brushing your hair back and easing up.
โSo fuckinโ pretty like this, aww sweets youโre drooling.โ
He taunts you, strokes getting slower, like heโs not letting you have it, your thighs pressing tightly then, his thumb swiping the dribbles from your chin. Your pupils are blown out, lips parted, cunt just fuckinโ spasming as if sheโs ready for him to cum, but not just yet.
He slowly rolls his hips, fingers dimpling the flesh of your thighs, breath ghosting against your lips โ swollen from his kisses. โGonna cum, arenโt you baby?โ
You nod in a jerky little motion, unsure how he expects you to even talk, but the nod is enough for his cocky grin, one more roll of his hips that drags on your spot, white hair tickling your exposed clit with how he has you split open. You cry out as the sharp pleasure builds so fast, thighs shaking uncontrollably against him, tears slipping out of your eyes.
โToru, Iโm โ nghh, f-fuc- Iโm-โ
He leans up to get a perfect view of you, driving that fat cock into your stretched, abused little hole, mean with it now โ pushing you over the edge. โThatโs it, thatโs my girl,โ he whispers, words making his breath ghost against your skin. โCum fโme, milk me dry, take all of me in your pretty little cunt.โ
Satoruโs balls are coated in your slick, heavy and full, feeling you shatter for him, watching your pretty face with a well satisfied fucked out look on his face, exhaling, gripping you at your waist. He eases your legs to the sides of his hips as you scream out, eyes rolling back in your skull, fucking you through it slow and easy.
โThere you go,โ he murmurs, taking your fingers and slipping them between you both. You whine out, overstimulated. โTouch it, be good fโme, after she tried so hard not to let me in.โ
โAlready c-came,โ you whimper out pathetically, but Satoruโs not quite done with you, leaning back you watch your fingers slip. โToo wet, mnh!โ
โYou can cum again,โ he orders softly now, sadistic little undertone, his snowy lashes lowering in a movement that makes him look angelic and not the slutty freak he is. โWanna feel it again, please sweetheart.โ
Now heโs needy, desperately watching your movements, your hand stops moving when pleasure hits sharp again, but Satoru moves it for you, watching you fall apart, tacky walls clamping down. He fucks you through your aftershocks until youโre delirious, ready to pass out โ drooling with your eyes fluttering shut, but he tilts your chin up with long fingers, making you gasp out.
โLook at me when I fill you up,โ he orders, all soft and sweet like heโs not a filthy brat, sucking your little finger into his mouth and moaning around it, making your eyes try to open, but youโre twitching, a mess. โThatโs it, such a good girl takinโ me like this, are you ready fโme to pump your cunt so full?โ
You nod weakly, and he presses one more time before crying out in your ear โ a mix of your name and a desperate little whimper from the six foot four man thatโs splitting you apart. His cock throbs and impossibly thickens, heat floods you instantly, so much cum that itโs pouring, coating all of your walls with white.
โOh f-fuck, take it,โ he murmurs, voice breaking with how good your pussy feels just sucking him up. His fingers press into your hips, groaning desperately, lips slipping up your neck โ hot, uneven little breaths as more pumps in.
Youโre so full, hot warmth spreading with how much cum heโs pouring into you, and more spurts out, trickling down his sticky cock, still hard. โOh m-myโฆ Iโฆ youโre stillโฆโ
โI have so much for you, donโt worry,โ he chuckles, pulling back and still buried deep, now you feel that pressure again, your cunt trying to clamp down, hips twitching as his cum and yours slips down in strands of white. โYou think thatโs all, no baby, you deserve all my cum inside you.โ
Satoru kisses you slowly, lips pressing yours apart, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, saliva dripping as he moves just a bit, and youโre gasping out. โS-sensitive!โ
โI know, sweetheart sโokay,โ he pulls out and looks and the fucking filthy mix of both of you, more cum pumping white and milky when he strokes his slick cock. โHah, slutty cunt is so beat up.โ
You canโt tell if heโs sweet or evil.
You hiss as he rubs that shiny pink tip up and down your puffy folds, moaning out at the sight of you. Bruises forming from his fingertips, marks from where his teeth had slid into your skin, lips bitten and swollen. His fingers slide between your thighs, slick with cum traced through your folds, toying with the white creamy mixture and smirking while you twitch and jerk.
โThought I couldnโt fit?โ He raises one of those thin white brows, you manage to shake your head, he gathers his mess and holds up his fingers. โGod, look at us together, finally.โ
Satoru Gojo is a freak, you knew this when he begged to eat your pussy the moment he met you, and when he would make sure to finger you every chance he got โ didnโt matter where. Yet the sight of the light catching those drips of both of you is obscene, and when he puts those thick long fingers in his mouth and sucks?
You donโt even know what sound you make. Itโs pornographic, a desperate whine as your cunt tries to recover, and his cheeks hollow.
โMmm,โ he moans as if itโs the best tasting thing โ his own cum. โSweetheart you need to taste this.โ
Satoru slips two fingers into your mouth ordering โ suck โ with a soft voice, those damn eyes just a ring of blue surrounded by the fringe of white. You do as he orders, tasting the salty tang on your tongue. Your eyelashes flutter, sucking him and holding his huge hand.
โSuch a good girl, you did so well taking me,โ he murmurs, pulling those fingers back, but suddenly his hands clamp onto your waist โ lifting you like youโre fucking nothing.
โMnh! What are you doing!?โ You demand, when heโs got you flipped over on top of him, eyeing your tummy and measuring with his fingers. โToruโฆโ
โI think Iโll hit right hereโฆโ He murmurs, dragging you down on that huge cock you barely got to fit to begin with. He lifts you up, your knees sliding against the silk sheets that are embarrassingly wet from you.
โI canโt take you like this,โ you grumble, earning his cute little blush on perfect cheekbones. โI canโt! Stop looking all cute like youโre not a deviant.โ
โBaby please lemme watch you take me,โ he lifts you high. โPut me there.โ
โYouโre ridiculous,โ you huff, already a quivering mess, cunt drooling as you position him there, feeling your stretched out cunt aching. โOh godโฆโ
โYou can take me now, I know it,โ heโs literally your slutty cheerleader, batting those lashes with the cutest smile, silvery hair falling over his brow. โCome on, show me what you can do. Youโre so good you know.โ
โSuck up,โ you mumble, but you start to take him, inch by inch, until he angles you so you fall on his cock, stuffing you full again, even more intense. Your nails dig into the perfect skin of his chest as this deviant just grins.
โSee?โ He touches your belly button, chuckling now.
โS-see what!? Mnh!โ He just smiles, fucked out as your cunt drools his own cum down in rivulets of white, pooling on his abdomen and making that white happy trail slick.
โI hit here, I knew it,โ heโs measuring something like a psycho, sighing and looking up at you lovingly, hands trailing down your hips until he grips your ass, dragging you down, making you boat moan. โWonder if I can fit it all inside you like this.โ
Thereโs more inches!?
Oh hell no.
Satoru is so sillyyy I love him hehe
Patreon for more exclusive fics - Kofi link (sommission info there!)
told the nerd to film it and he exported inside me instead!
pairing โ tech nerd!gojo x fem reader
synopsis : you crushed on him for months, watched him dodge every advance like you were malware. so you dressed up a little, played a little dumberโand now heโs got you spread out in pixels and moaning in surround sound. worst part? you kinda want him to do it again.
tags/cw โ masturbation, degradation, praise kink, dacryphilia, marking, overstimulation, explicit language, filming, voyeurism, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, rough sex, dirty talk, power dynamics, obsession, lingerie, virgin weeb satoru, questionable but effective way of seducing ur crush. 13k wc, 18+ only, minors DNI.
a/n : plz don't nitpick about how a fashion vlog shouldn't be like that bc that's the point. toru doesn't know the difference because all he watches is 2d girls
the compressorโs peaking again.
satoru squints at the waveform, drags the threshold down two decibels, then listens back to the same three-second clip of voiceover for the tenth time. itโs a podcast intro, some wannabe influencer droning about mindfulness. he doesnโt care. heโs just here to make it sound less like it was recorded in a bathroom.
โsounds like shit,โ he mutters, even though itโs clean. crisp. perfectly balanced.
it doesnโt feel right. nothing ever does. he tweaks the bitrate, checks the export codec, wonders if he should build a custom ffmpeg preset. maybe write a quick script to batch clean all future filesโsomething to shave off a few milliseconds of his life. his fingers hover over the keyboard, itching for efficiency, for control.
ping.
discord overlay glows in the corner of his ultrawide monitor, a neon-green intrusion on his meticulously organized desktop. he freezes. the notification pulses like a heartbeat.
you.
he stares at it, lets it sit there like itโs radioactive. doesnโt even remember keeping you added. your usernameโsomething stupid with a heart emojiโfeels like a splinter under his skin. he shouldโve purged his contacts months ago, but here you are, slipping through the cracks of his digital fortress.
hey. remember when u edited our project? can u help me trim some vids plsโฆ
his jaw tightens. of course youโd ask now, at 2 a.m., when heโs neck-deep in audio plugins and caffeine. his fingers hover over the keyboard, poised to dismiss you.
โno,โ he types, then erases it.
โwhat kind of vids,โ he tries, but deletes that too. too eager. too curious.
after a solid twenty-five seconds of overthinking, he finally sends:
i guess. send what you have.
he leans back in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. his room is a cave of glowing screens and scattered energy drink cans, the hum of his overclocked pc the only sound besides his own shallow breathing. he shouldnโt care. youโre just another art student, another distraction. but his pulse betrays him, thudding a little too hard in his throat.
flashback.exe
he hated group projects. despised them. a bunch of useless art students in overpriced streetwear, trying to make films with no understanding of pacing or continuity.
theyโd fumble with premiere pro like it was rocket science, leaving him to clean up their shaky cuts and mismatched audio tracks. he always ended up doing 90% of the work, and he preferred it that way. control was his god, and he worshipped it.
but you were different.
not better. just... a different kind of stupid.
you showed up late to the editing suite, glitter pens spilling out of your bag, heart stickers plastered on your water bottle like a middle schoolerโs diary. you called the lav mic a โweird nipple thingโ and giggled when he glared at you. once, you spilled your lip gloss on the soundboard, leaving a sticky pink smear he had to scrub off with isopropyl alcohol. another time, you asked if uploading to drive made your data heavier, and he almost threw you out.
but.
you let him do whatever he wanted.
you didnโt hover or micromanage. you just sat there, cross-legged on a swivel chair, watching him cut scenes like it was magic. you leaned over his shoulder, close enough that he could feel the warmth of your breath, your wide eyes reflecting the glow of the timeline.
โwhoa... you made it feel like a real movie,โ you whispered, like heโd just parted the red sea.
you smelled like something artificial. strawberries, maybe, or some overpriced body mist from a mall kiosk. your hair was always tied with a ribbonโpink, blue, sometimes yellow, always obnoxiously bright.
he didnโt care.
he told himself he didnโt.
but he remembered. every fucking detail.
the zip file lands in his downloads with an obnoxious ka-chunk, snapping him out of the memory. he doesnโt rush. just opens it like itโs any other favor, like his heart isnโt clawing at his ribcage. the folder name stares back at him: โpls help <3โ
typical.
he clicks it open, expecting shaky iphone clips of cafes and shopping hauls. maybe some cringe tiktok dance you think is cute. heโs ready to hate it, to scoff at your lack of framing or shitty lighting.
but thenโ
you appear on screen.
not just appear. you perform.
youโre biting your lip, laughing into the lens like itโs your lover. wearing something stupidly shortโa skirt that barely qualifies as fabric, hugging your thighs like itโs painted on. you spin around in front of your mirror, the camera catching every angle, every curve, like youโre being filmed for someone else. someone whoโd appreciate it.
you pose. cock your head. giggle. the sound is loud, breathy, smiling when you speak. โdo you think this is too short?โ you ask, tugging the hem of your skirt, your fingers lingering just a second too long.
he blinks.
backs the video up three seconds.
watches again.
your laugh echoes through his headphones, a little distorted, a little too close. he pretends heโs checking the audio, tells himself itโs for sync, that heโs just doing his job. but his eyes are glued to the screen, to the way your skirt rides up as you twirl, to the flash of skin that makes his breath catch.
he watches again.
his mouth is dry, his tongue heavy against his teeth. your skirt flips up higher this time, and you gaspโlike youโre surprised, like you didnโt mean to show that much. but you donโt stop filming. donโt cover up. just... laugh, a sound that curls around his spine and sinks into his gut.
he doesnโt even realize his hand is moving until itโs there, slipping under the waistband of his sweatpants. his fingers brush against himself, and he hisses, the contact sharp and sudden. heโs already half-hard, his body betraying him before his brain can catch up. the room feels too warm, the hum of his pc too loud, but he doesnโt care. he canโt care.
he rewinds the clip again, pauses on the frame where youโre mid-spin, your skirt flared just enough to show the curve of your ass. his hand wraps around his cock, slow at first, tentative, like heโs testing how far heโll let himself go. the texture of his own skin is rough, familiar, but itโs not enough. not when itโs you on the screen, laughing like you know heโs watching, like youโre daring him to lose control.
he strokes himself, a tight, deliberate rhythm, his thumb brushing over the tip where heโs already leaking. the sensation jolts him, makes his hips twitch in the chair.
he imagines itโs your hand, your fingersโsmall, soft, probably clumsy, but eager. he pictures you kneeling between his legs, looking up at him with those wide eyes, your lips parted like they are in the video, glossy and pink and begging to be kissed. or more.
the video plays on. youโre bending over now, adjusting your hair in the mirror, your skirt riding up to expose the thin strip of your underwear. he groans, low and guttural, his hand moving faster.
the sound of your voiceโteasing, playfulโfills his headphones, and he closes his eyes for a moment, letting it wash over him. โdo you think this is too short?โ you say again, and he wants to answer, wants to growl that itโs perfect, that youโre perfect, that heโd rip it off you if he could.
his grip tightens, his strokes growing erratic. heโs not gentle with himselfโnever is. itโs all pressure and friction, chasing the edge as fast as he can.
his free hand fumbles with the mouse, scrubbing the timeline back to the moment you gasp, to the split-second flash of your thighs. he loops it, the clip stuttering in time with his breathing, with the slick sound of his hand working himself over. his cock throbs, hot and heavy, and he imagines itโs youโyour warmth, your wetness, the way youโd probably whimper if he touched you like this.
heโs close. too close.
his vision blurs at the edges, his pulse hammering in his ears. he shouldnโt be doing this, shouldnโt be jerking off to your stupid video like some desperate creep, but the shame only makes it worse, makes it sharper.
he pictures you catching him, walking in right now, seeing him with his pants down and his hand on his dick. would you laugh? would you blush? would you get on your knees andโ
he comes with a choked gasp, his hips bucking up into his hand. itโs messy, spilling over his fingers, onto the hem of his shirt. his chest heaves, his head tilting back against the chair as the aftershocks ripple through him. your laugh loops in his headphones, oblivious to the wreck heโs become.
itโs filthy. itโs desperate.
ten minutes later, heโs cleaned himself up, his hands steady again as he trims the file like a good little editor. he cuts out the shaky parts, stabilizes the footage, adjusts the audio so your voice doesnโt clip. itโs clinical now, professional, like he didnโt just fall apart to the sight of you. he names it something sterile: โvlog_cut_1.mov.โ
he exports it twice. once normally, for you. once... not. the second version is raw, unedited, every twirl and giggle preserved in crisp 4k. it gets copied to a different folder, buried in a directory labeled โshader_study_2022.โ he tells himself itโs in case you need a re-edit. a backup. thatโs all.
when you text back:
thank u!! lol i owe uuu :3
he stares at the message, his thumb hovering over the keyboard. his heartโs still racing, a faint tremor in his fingers.
he types โanytime :)โ and erases it. sends:
np.
what he doesnโt say: he rewatched the part where you bend over six times. he had his dick in his hand by the second loop. he renamed the close-up to โtest_render_asscloseup.movโ and hid it behind three layers of subfolders.
he doesnโt even like tiktok girls.
heโs into 2d, girls with big swords and bigger tits, drawn in sharp lines and impossible proportions. he once bought a dakimakura because the shipping came with a free pin, and itโs still shoved in his closet, one corner stained from a late-night mistake. real girls are messy, unpredictable, too much work. but now?
heโs thinking about the way your laugh dipped when you turned around, the way it caught in your throat like you were nervous. the way you looked into the lens like you knew someone was watching.
someone like him.
next day, you walk in like a fucking weapon.
pink fuzzy shrug, low-rise jeans that sit dangerously low on your hips, a sliver of stomach peeking out like itโs 2004. your hairโs up in a ribbonโpink, of course, swaying as you move. youโre all glitter and confidence, a walking distraction in a lecture hall full of tired students and flickering projectors.
he scoffs under his breath. โtacky.โ
but his heartโs pounding, a traitor in his chest. his fingers twitch against the edge of his laptop, betraying the calm heโs trying to project. you slide into the seat two rows ahead and twist around, grinning like a cat, like you know something he doesnโt.
your eyes catch his for a split second, bright and teasing, and he forces himself to look away.
he opens his laptop, types random garbage into a terminal windowโsome half-baked python script he doesnโt even care about. he runs a fake compile just to feel busy, to drown out the way his blood is rushing too fast.
you lean over to whisper to the girl next to you, your laugh spilling out, loud and careless. your hair tosses, and he swears he catches the scent of your perfume drifting past in invisible waves. saccharine, overwhelming, like strawberries dipped in sugar syrup.
his brain short-circuits. he snaps his headphones on, the cord tangling in his haste. not to listen to music. not to block you out.
to replay your giggle.
heโd isolated the audio last night, cleaned it up with a high-pass filter, boosted the mids to make it crystal clear. exported it as a high-quality .wav, tucked it into a folder labeled โaudio_ref.โ he tells himself itโs for study, just good reference for future projects. but he loops it now, the sound of your laugh layered over faint lo-fi static he added for texture. itโs you, distilled into a three-second clip, filling his skull.
he closes his eyes and pretends youโre saying his name. satoru, you giggle, breathy and soft, like youโre leaning over his shoulder again, watching him work. satoru, you made it feel so real.
the lecture drones on, but heโs not listening. heโs lost in the rhythm of your voice, the way it dips and rises, the way it makes his skin feel too tight. he shifts in his seat, adjusts his hoodie, tries to ignore the heat pooling in his gut. heโs not supposed to want this. not supposed to want you.
but he does.
the thing about addiction is that it never announces itself.
no dramatic thunderclap. no internal monologue screaming, ah yes, now i am a pervert. itโs quiet. insidious. it sinks in like static, crackling at the edges of satoruโs brain until heโs not sure where his old self ends and this new, wretched version begins.
itโs not like heโs not already a pervert who gets off from pixels. this simply wasnโt his brand of perversion.
that night, he stayed up longer than he shouldโve. stared at code for so long his ide crashed, the screen flickering to black as if it knew he was wasting his time. not that he got anything done.ย
he just kept switching tabsโyour final cut in vlc, some useless bash script in vscode he pretended to care about, then back to your video, the timeline frozen on that twirl, that gasp. his fingers shook when he closed the laptop, but sleep never came.
and now itโs the next day. mid-afternoon. the sun is doing that thing where it turns his apartment into a blinding box of heat and regret. his ac hums like an old man, wheezing against the sticky air. heโs sprawled in his chair, one leg slung over the armrest, staring at the ceiling fan like it might tell him how to stop.
ping.
another discord notification. he doesnโt even flinch this time. your username glows, and the filename attached makes his stomach do a weird little roll: โtry-on2_raw.movโ. his eyes linger on the heart emoji youโve tacked onto the message, like itโs a personal invitation.
hiii! ty for the last edit, ur a lifesaver <3 can u check and trim this one too? iโm trying smth new but idk if it worksโฆ lmk what u think pls!!
he clicks download. no hesitation. doesnโt even pretend to care anymore.
the file loads into his editing software like second nature, the premiere pro interface blooming across his screen. muscle memory. routine.
heโs done this a hundred timesโexcept never like this, never with his pulse hammering in his throat and his mouth already dry.
the video starts the same way as the lastโhandheld, messy lighting, your voice trailing in from offscreen as you fiddle with the camera angle. no mic, of course not. just raw cam audio, unpolished, real, every breath and rustle amplified. he leans closer, like proximity to the screen will make it less dangerous.
โokayโwait, hold on,โ you mutter, slightly out of breath. thereโs a plastic rustle, fabric scraping skin, the light jingle of a zipper. he catches the sound of your nails tapping the digicam accidentally, a faint clack-clack that makes him picture your fingers, probably painted some ridiculous color, fumbling in that endearing way you do.ย
โughโฆ come onโฆโ your voice drops, a frustrated huff, low and throaty. โmmโsorry! this oneโs hard to pull up.โ
thenโzipper slides. metal on fabric, slow and deliberate, like itโs teasing him on purpose. you let out a sigh, long, slow, just a little too satisfied, like youโre savoring the release of pressure. the sound coils in his gut, tight and hot.
he freezes.
his mouse stays hovering over the playhead, the cursor trembling slightly. blood is already rushing south, his sweatpants tightening in a way he canโt ignore. his breath catches, shallow and sharp, and the worst part?
you giggle.
โprobably got the wrong size,โ you say, tugging the dress up higher. the hem catches on your thighs, rising indecently, the fabric clinging to your skin like itโs reluctant to let go. โdonโt tell anyone i didnโt try it on in-store first.โ
he swallows nothing. jaw tight. the room suddenly feels suffocating, the acโs hum drowned out by the thud of his own pulse. your lip catches between your teeth, a flash of white against pink gloss, and the camera catches that too, lingers on it like it knows what itโs doing.
you glance at the lens, eyes half-lidded, like youโre waiting for approval, like youโre asking him directlyโdo you like this?
satoruโs fingers twitch.
one hand stays on the mouse, scrubbing the timeline back three seconds to hear that sigh again. the other hand moves before he can stop it, slipping under his waistband, brushing against the heat of his skin. heโs already hard, achingly so, the kind of hard that makes his head swim.
he wraps his fingers around himself, slow at first, testing, like heโs not sure heโs really doing this again. but the sound of your voiceโbreathy, teasingโloops in his headphones, and heโs gone.
he strokes himself, deliberate and tight, his grip almost punishing. the video plays on, and youโre stepping into frame now, the dress half-zipped, hugging your curves in a way that makes his throat burn. your thighs shift as you adjust the hem, and he imagines them under his hands, soft and warm, parting just for him.
his thumb swipes over the tip of his cock, slick with precum, and he groans, low and broken, the sound swallowed by the hum of his pc. he pictures your fingers instead, clumsy but eager, your nails grazing his skin as you try to keep up with his rhythm.
heโd guide you, show you how he likes itโfast, rough, no mercy.
you sigh again, and he speeds up, his hand moving in time with the rise and fall of your voice. โthis oneโs kinda tight,โ you murmur, tugging at the neckline, and the fabric stretches, exposing the swell of your chest.
he wants to rip it off, wants to hear you gasp for real, not for the camera but for him. his strokes grow erratic, desperate, the slick sound of his hand filling the room, obscene and unstoppable.
he scrubs the timeline back again, pauses on the frame where your dress slips, where your underwear peeks outโa thin, lacy thing that makes his vision blur. he imagines pulling it aside, imagines the heat of you, the way youโd whimper if he pressed himself inside.
heโs close, too close, his hips twitching up into his hand. the video loops your giggle, that satisfied sigh, and heโs drowning in it, in you.
he pictures you catching him like this, walking into his apartment right now, seeing him with his pants down and his cock in his hand, flushed and leaking. would you laugh? would you blush? would you drop to your knees and let him finish on your lips, glossy and perfect andโ
he comes with a muted groan, his head tipping back, eyes screwed shut as his release spills over his fingers, hot and messy. his breath shakes, a ragged exhale that leaves him hollow. the aftershocks pulse through him, and he slumps in his chair, the video still playing, your voice oblivious to the wreckage youโve caused.
he pauses the frame. your mouth is mid-word, forming the shape of โoops,โ lips parted just enough to make his chest ache. he wipes his hand on a paper towel from his desk, crumpled and stained from earlier sins. doesnโt look at himself. doesnโt think.
exports the file without touching a thing. names it โfinal_edit.mov.โ then saves another copy, the raw footage, every sigh and rustle preserved. he names it โjesusfuckingchrist.mp4โ and buries it in a folder labeled โmisc_ref.โ
he tries to normalize it.
โitโs just grading,โ he mutters the next time he opens the project, the lie sour on his tongue. โjust adjusting white balance.โ but the playback bar hasnโt moved from your thighs. he doesnโt touch the colors. not really.
he zooms in under the excuse of checking โgrain smoothing,โ but itโs just your lip, caught between your teeth, your breath clipped at the edges like youโre holding back.
he tells himself heโs just learning.
every artist has their muse, right? except now he edits to your audio. he used to play podcasts, background noise to keep his brain from spiraling.
now? your breathing is layered into the timeline, a track heโs labeled โvox_ref.โ he loops your laugh in reverse, lets it pan from left to right like itโs some surround sound experience.
โthis is practice,โ he whispers, dragging eq curves around nonsense, boosting the highs until your voice is sharp and intimate. โiโm experimenting with filters.โ
right. filters. filters until your voice sounds like itโs right by his ear, like youโre whispering in bed, your breath warm against his skin. he plays a clip of you saying โdo you like this one?โ over and over, the words detached from context.
he doesnโt even care what youโre referring to anymore. heโs got that part memorized, the way your voice dips, soft and unsure, like youโre asking him to love you.
the next class is worse.
you walk past him in that fuzzy pink shrug thing, one sleeve slipping off your shoulder, and itโs like a bomb goes off in his chest. the fabric clings to you, soft and teasing, and he wants to grab it, pull it down, see how much skin youโll let him have.
you lean down to plug your charger in, your jeans riding lowโtoo low, the kind of low that makes him wonder how theyโre even allowed on campus. he catches a glimpse of your underwear, a flash of lace, and his brain whites out.
he glares at his laptop, scoffs under his breath. โthat outfitโsโฆ desperate.โ the word feels like a blade, sharp and mean, but itโs all heโs got to keep you at a distance.
your head tilts, innocent, eyes wide like youโre genuinely curious. โyou think so?โ you say it like you mean it, like you donโt already know the answer, like you havenโt watched your own footage and seen what heโs seen.
he shrugs, keeps scowling, doesnโt look at you. his fingers grip the edge of his laptop too hard, knuckles white. behind the screen, heโs got a paused frame of you licking lip gloss off your thumb, minimized in the corner. itโs been open since he got here.
his file structure is disintegrating. he used to name things with logicโtimestamps, project codes, version numbers. now his desktop looks like a manifesto, a digital shrine to his unraveling. โvlog_tryon_final.mov.โ โedit_3alt.mp4.โ โfuckmeagain_laughcut.mov.โ thereโs a folder called โNOT work (unless)โ that he doesnโt even open anymore, too afraid of what heโll find.
he tries to draw a line, but itโs blurry. always blurry. he doesnโt know where the edit ends and obsession begins. when he dreams, he dreams about zippersโexcept theyโre not zipzers. theyโre your legs, parting slow and deliberate, your breath hitching as he pulls you closer.
a new text lights up his screen:
ย hey! idk if the last one looks goodโฆ should i redo it? it felt kinda awkward lol sorry T_T
you sound insecure, unsure, your words dripping with that self-conscious charm that makes his chest hurt. he stares at the message, his thumb hovering over the keyboard, his mind spiraling.
you donโt know, do you? you donโt know what youโre doing to him, how your voice alone is enough to make him hard again.
he types:
looks clean. donโt worry about it.
satoru watches the word clean sit there like a fucking lie. his dick twitches, traitor that it is.
he hates himself.
but he opens the raw file again. scrubs through, frame by frame, until he finds that timestampโwhere you moan, soft and accidental, like you didnโt mean to let it slip. he watches it, his headphones sealing him in with the sound of you. he exports that single second, names it โmoan_finalgodhelpme.mp4,โ and tucks it away like a secret heโll never confess.
the timeline sits open, your frozen frame staring back at him. he doesnโt close it. doesnโt want to.
it starts with static in his skull.
not the loud, electric kind that chokes you up or begs to be noticed. itโs quiet. a whir, like an old fan that never shuts off, humming behind his thoughts. when satoru drags his mouse across the screen and sees your name still on the folder, it buzzesโfaint, familiar, a sickness with your scent.
he changes the name from โNOT work (unless)โ to โARCHIVE_21,โ moves it to a different directory, pretends itโs work, or dead, or both. but the static doesnโt stop. it clings, sticky and warm, like your laugh looping in his headphones.
it doesnโt help.
not when he dreams in highlighter gloss and those half-bitten whines you make when stretching, your body arching just so. not when he wakes up rutting into damp sheets, mouthing your name like a damn prayer, his hips jerking against nothing. the shame burns, but itโs not enough to make him stop.
satoruโs trying.
really.
he takes up freelance gigs, edits wedding footage for some guy he hasnโt spoken to since second year. overlays cheesy filters, mutes the groomโs ugly laugh, syncs the vows to some overused acoustic track. itโs clean. respectable. sterile enough to make him itch, like heโs wearing someone elseโs skin. but the folderโs still there, buried in his drive like it knows heโll come back.
2:03 a.m.
his inbox pings, a sharp sound that cuts through the drone of his pc fans. your name lights up the screen, and his chest tightens before he even reads the message.
hiii satoru!! sorry for the late send, been sooo busy <3 can u take a look at this haul vid? i tried smth spicy but idk if itโs too muchโฆ lmk what u think pretty pls!!
march haul (raw).mp4
he knows he shouldnโt. thereโs no logical reason, no business context, just the weight of your wordsโspicy, pretty plsโsinking into his gut. but his hands move on their own, clicking download, the progress bar filling like a fuse burning down.
click.
of course he does.
the video starts soft, your bedroom light diffused to a golden haze, casting shadows that dance across rumpled sheets. it looks like youโve been tossing in them all day, the fabric creased and inviting.
youโre in laceโbarely. something soft pink and flimsy, a slip of fabric that clings to your curves like itโs begging to be torn off.
your thighโs out, one leg bent just enough to draw his eye, and the cameraโs angled low, too low, like you meant to frame it this way.
โgod, i hope this one fitsโฆโ your voice is breathy, a little strained, like youโre fighting the fabric. you adjust a strap, your fingers lingering on the lace, and your lip catches between your teeth, glossy and pink, a casual gesture thatโs anything but. his breath stutters, a sharp inhale that burns his throat.
โoops, sorryโtoo much cleavage?โ you laugh, not to yourself but at him.
he knows it.
his cock knows it, twitching against the seam of his sweatpants. the screen shakes as you set the camera on something unsteadyโa stack of books, maybeโand it rocks just as you turn around, hips swaying, your ass hugged by that tiny thong, the lace cutting into your skin like a claim. you glance back over your shoulder, smirk poised like a dagger, eyes glinting in the soft light.
โi bet youโd pause right here, wouldnโt you?โ
he does.
the video cuts mid-breath, and he doesnโt hear the silence. heโs frozen, hand halfway down, brain wiped clean. the frame lingers on your ass, the curve of it framed by lace, and his mouth is dry, his pulse hammering so loud it drowns out the static.
ping.
march haul (real).mp4
oops. wrong send lol. this is the real one!
his screen is still painted with the freeze-frame of your ass. his dickโs straining so hard it aches, a dull throb that makes him shift in his chair. he doesnโt respond, doesnโt move for a full minute, just stares at the message, the word oops taunting him. thenโ
he saves both files. drags them into โARCHIVE_21โ with a trembling cursor, his fingers clumsy on the trackpad. he opens the raw one again, slower this time, one hand on his lap, the other fisting his sheets until the fabric creaks.
youโre back on screen, adjusting the strap again, your laugh curling through his headphones like smoke. his hand slips under his waistband, and heโs already leaking, the tip slick and sensitive as he grips himself.
he strokes slow, deliberate, savoring the friction, but his mindโs elsewhereโon the hentai heโs spent years jerking off to, the doujins with dog-eared pages and cum-stained corners.
he pictures you like those girls, bent over and begging, your lace thong pushed to the side as he fucks you from behind, your moans louder, needier, than anything youโve let slip on camera.
he imagines pinning you to those rumpled sheets, your thighs trembling under his hands, your ass bouncing with every thrust. no teasing giggles, no coy glancesโjust you, fucked out and whimpering, his name on your lips as he buries himself deep, so deep you canโt think.
his hand speeds up, the slick sound obscene in the quiet of his room. he scrubs the timeline back, pauses on the moment you turn, your smirk sharp and knowing.
he wants to wipe it off, wants to fuck you until youโre too wrecked to smile, until youโre clawing at the sheets and sobbing his name. he imagines your cunt, tight and wet, gripping him as he pounds into you, the lace of your thong rubbing raw against his skin.
itโs not enough to watch you anymore, not enough to stroke himself to your voiceโhe wants to ruin you, wants to feel you break under him, wants to make you his in a way those 2d girls never could.
he cums with a low, breathy whisper of your name, his hips jerking up into his hand. itโs intense, almost painful, spilling over his fingers and onto the hem of his shirt.
his chest heaves, his vision blurring as he slumps back, the video still playing, your laugh oblivious to the mess heโs become. he opens it again, doesnโt touch himself this timeโjust watches, memorizes, eyes glassy and mouth parted.
at one point, he swears he moans with you, a soft sound that slips out unbidden, his body betraying him even when heโs spent. when he edits the โrealโ file, heโs a machine. no stutters, no slips, just sharp keystrokes and surgical cuts, trimming shaky frames and boosting your voice until itโs crisp.
the guilt claws at him, a dull ache in his chest, but it only makes the next orgasm worseโand better. he exports it, names it โhaul_march_final.mov,โ and saves the raw file to a new subfolder: โstills_ref.โ he doesnโt name the second copy. doesnโt need to. itโs just for him.
he plays it cool in class. โwow. another fit straight outta your grandmaโs closet,โ he scoffs as you pass, voice dripping with mockery, lips curling into something lazy and mean.
but his gaze flickersโjust once, low and quick, like heโs checking for danger. and there it is. a flash of soft pink lace against the curve of your thigh as you shift your bag higher up your shoulder. just a sliver. deliberate.
he knows that lace. knows it from the raw footage, from the way it hugged your skin under golden light. his smirk falters for half a second, a crack in his armor.
you turn your head, slow as syrup, and smile at him over your shoulder. itโs airy, innocent, ditzy enough to play dumb, poisonous enough to feel like a threat. โmm? that bad, huh?โ your voice is light, but your eyes linger a moment too long, sharp and knowing, like youโre peeling him open.
you take your seat two rows away, crossing one leg over the other with careful grace. your skirt rides up, just enough to show the edge of that lace again, and your fingers toy absentmindedly with the hem, brushing the fabric like itโs a game.
he doesnโt blink.
he knows whatโs under that skirt, knows the way that lace bites into your skin when you move just like that. heโs seen it in soft lighting, tangled with shadows and sighs. he knows, and you know, and neither of you say a word.
he canโt breathe.
his hand trembles as he grips his pen, scrawling nonsense on the corner of his notesโrandom numbers, jagged lines, anything to keep his fingers busy.
someoneโs asking a question about identity and performance, something about how we present ourselves versus how we wish to be perceived, and satoruโs already halfway to standing.
โsorry. washroom.โ his voice cracks halfway through the lie, too sharp, too rushed.
satoru stumbles into the menโs room like heโs escaping a crime scene, the door clicking shut behind him. palm flat against cold tile, forehead pressed to the inside of his wrist, he tries to breathe, tries to think of anything elseโcode, deadlines, the wedding edit heโs behind on.
but itโs you.
always you. your smile, your laugh, the lace peeking out like a taunt.
heโs already hard, already leaking, the front of his jeans tight and unforgiving. he fumbles with the button, shoves them down just enough, and grips himself, his hand shaking as he strokes.
he closes his eyes and sees youโnot the you in class, not the you playing dumb, but the you from his fantasies, the you heโs built from hentai panels and late-night desperation. he imagines you on your knees, lace thong pulled down, your cunt glistening as he fucks you against the bathroom sink.
no giggles, no teasingโjust raw, desperate need, your moans echoing off the tiles as he slams into you, his hands bruising your hips, your body arching to take him deeper.
he wants you messy, wants you marked, wants to fill you until youโre dripping, until youโre his in a way thatโs permanent.
he strokes faster, his breath hitching, his teeth sinking into his knuckles to muffle the groan clawing up his throat. he cums hard, too fast, his knees buckling as it spills over his hand, hot and shameful. he shakes, gasping, his forehead slick against the tile, and thinks of lace. thinks of lip gloss. thinks of your voice saying โoopsโ like itโs a sin.
it doesnโt take long for his desktop to become an altar.
the backgroundโs still you, a freeze-frame from the first video, your lip gloss shimmering and fingers caught mid-twist in your hair. he tells himself itโs temporary, just a visual reference.
some nights, he replays a single frame just to watch your mouth form the word โfuck,โ slows it down, isolates the syllables, pretends youโre saying his name instead.
the worst part?
youโre still pretending nothingโs changed. still calling them โfavors,โ still sending content like itโs work, like itโs nothing.
but your outfits are shorter, your giggles stick to the air longer, your eyes linger like youโre testing something. and when you purr, โyouโre sooo good at this, satoru,โ with that saccharine lilt, your voice curling around his name like a caress, he bites the inside of his cheek just to keep quiet. fists the sheets at night and prays.
he moans your name in the dark, face hot with shame, and hates how much he wants you to hear it.
satoruโs become sleep-deprived, dark smudges nesting beneath his eyes like fingerprints left behind by guilt or obsession or both. he wears his glasses more lately, less out of need and more as a buffer between him and the worldโbetween him and you.
the lenses catch the glow of his new triple-monitor setup, a sleek beast he told himself was for coding, for editing, for multitasking. not for keeping your videos looping on the side monitor while he pretends to work on the main one. not for that at all.
your folderโs pinned in quick access, a permanent fixture in his file explorer. he keeps it open in the background at all times, a digital pulse that hums alongside his pc fans. second nature now, like breathing or wanting. not unlike a shrine.
in class, he pretends to take notes, his stylus scratching nonsense on his tablet. heโs not. heโs watching a gif on his phone, hidden under the deskโa loop of your tongue dragging slow across lip gloss, eyes soft with focus like youโre painting yourself pretty just for him. the gifโs only three seconds, but heโs memorized every frame, every flicker of your lashes. his thumb swipes to replay it, again, again, until his vision blurs.
ctrl+shift+eject brain.exe.
three days pass, and you havenโt messaged. he checks your chat thread more than he breathesโopens, closes, re-opens, scrolling through your old texts like theyโll reveal something new. every flicker of hope is a false start, a phantom ping that makes his chest lurch. heโs pathetic, he knows it, but knowing doesnโt stop the itch.
then:
ping.
april haul (suits).mov
hii satoru!! new haul vid for u to check <3 tried some swimsuits this time, hope itโs not too boring to trim hehe. lmk what u think!!โ
he nearly drops his phone, his thumb smudging the screen as he fumbles to download. his new setup hums to life, the main monitor flashing with code he hasnโt touched in hours, the side monitor already open to your folder.
he drags the file into premiere, the timeline blooming across the screen, but his eyes are on the raw video, already playing on the right monitor, your voice spilling through his headphones like honey.
the videoโs different this time. the cameraโs lower, like itโs been left on a desk or shelf, pointing slightly upward to frame you from your knees to just above your head. your bed makes a cozy blur in the background, sheets tangled like an invitation.
youโre in a bikini top that isnโt trying very hard to stay on, thin strings knotted loosely at your neck and back, the fabric barely containing you. โmmm. does this scream summer, or slut?โ you giggle, feigned innocence like frosting over heat, your voice curling around the words like you know exactly what theyโll do to him.
you play with the strings at your chest, tugging, adjusting, your fingers brushing the swell of your breasts. then, softer, breathier, to the lens: โbaby, help me pickโฆโ
baby.
it breaks him all over again, a crack that runs straight through his chest. his cock twitches, already hard, straining against his boxers.
everything after that gets softer, lazier, dangerous in how intimate it feels. thereโs no performative energy nowโjust casual, candid seduction, your movements slow, like youโre not hurrying for anyone. like you know exactly whoโs watching and how long heโll linger.
when you shrug a dress off your shoulders, you sigh, the sound catching in your throat. when you twist to adjust a strap, you hum, low and absentminded. and when you struggle with a clasp at your back, your fingers fumbling, you moanโsoft, unintentional, a sound that slips out like it surprised even you.
satoruโs thumb slams the spacebar, pausing the video, rewinding three seconds to hear it again. he watches the way your lips part, the way your brows twitch, the way your body shifts like youโre chasing the sensation.
heโs already leaking, his boxers damp as he shoves them down, his hand wrapping around himself. the side monitor loops the raw footage, your moan playing over and over, while the main monitor holds the paused frame of your parted lips. he strokes slow at first, his grip tight, his thumb swiping over the tip where heโs slick and sensitive.
his mind slips to the doujins heโs hoarded, the hentai heโs spent years chasingโthe girls with flushed cheeks and desperate eyes, fucked raw and begging for more. but now itโs you, not some inked fantasy, and itโs so much filthier.
he imagines you sprawled across your bed, that bikini top ripped off, your thighs spread wide as he fucks you deep, relentless, your cunt clenching around him as you sob his name. no teasing, no gigglesโjust you, wrecked and dripping, your nails clawing his back as he takes you again and again, each thrust harder, messier, until youโre nothing but his.
his hand speeds up, the slick sound loud in his room, mixing with your looped moan. he wants you pinned beneath him, wants to feel you squirm, wants to fuck you until the bed creaks and your voice breaks, until youโre begging like those hentai girls, your glossed lips trembling as you say his nameโsatoru, please, more.
he imagines filling you, his cum leaking down your thighs, your body marked by him in ways he canโt unsee. itโs not enough to watch, not enough to strokeโhe wants to own you, wants to make you his in every way those 2d fantasies taught him to crave.
he cums hard, forehead pressed to his desk, a low groan tearing from his throat as it spills over his hand, his keyboard, the edge of his new setup. his breath is ragged, like heโs run a marathon, his glasses fogging slightly as he gasps.
the side monitor still plays, your voice oblivious, your moan looping like a hymn. he doesnโt stop the video, just slumps back, spent and shaking, and watches again, his hand twitching like itโs not done.
it doesnโt take long for his room to reek of sweat and sin.
he edits shirtless now, sometimes in boxers, always hard, always leaking. every fileโs renamed with trembling hands: โwifey_take7.mov.โ โwifey_raw.mp4.โ
he syncs your sighs to his lo-fi playlist, turns it into a lullaby, falls asleep to the sound of your breath. sometimes he slows your voice just to hear โbabyโ dragged out into velvet, makes gifs of your hands skimming your hips, kisses the screen when heโs drunk enough to forget shame.
you, on the other hand, donโt break character.
in class, you chew your pen and lean forward, the arch of your spine exact, your cleavage subtleโbarely a tease, just enough to make his throat tighten. he looks away with a clenched jaw, adjusts himself under the desk, twice, his jeans unforgiving.
you whisper to a friend and giggle, and he lipreads, thinks he sees the words โcanโt wait,โ but maybe heโs hallucinating, maybe not. it doesnโt matter.
he starts responding to the clips aloud.
โfuck yes, that one.โ โspin again, baby.โ sometimes he mumbles your name like a prayer, sometimes he chokes it into his pillow. every orgasm has your name carved into it, a brand he canโt erase.
one night, he opens a file to edit, drags it into premiere, but he doesnโt touch it. just watches, headphones in, barely breathing. not a content creator now, not a student, not even a manโjust a creature of need, and you his ritual, his muse, his goddess.
the screen shows you adjusting the straps of a silky babydoll, the lighting warm, your thighs bare, half-tucked under you as you sit prettily at the edge of your bed.
โokay, so this oneโsโฆ like, totally giving โcome to bedโ energy, right?โ you giggle, voice light, teeth sinking into your glossed lip as you bounce once, soft and natural, the fabric barely covering your chest.
satoru groans low in his throat, not even trying to hide it. โitโs giving bend over,โ he mutters, lips twitching, his side monitor looping the raw footage, his main screen frozen on your smile. โfuck, look at youโฆโ
you reach behind you, struggle with the clasp, wiggle your shoulders like youโre teasing whoeverโs behind the camera. โoof. thatโs tightโฆ should i size up?โ a breathy laugh follows, your sigh melting into it.
he licks his lips, your audio crystal-clear in his headphones. youโre right there, talking to him. โnah, baby,โ he croons, eyes fixed on the curve of your spine as you turn. โtightโs perfect. keeps the goods in place.โ
you blow a kiss at the lens. โhope youโre not bored yet,โ you say with a wink. โi saved the cutest for lastโฆโ
you bend off-frame, your ass peeking just above the edge of the bed, round and inviting in cotton panties with lace trim, and when you rise again, your hands hold something sheer and tiny. โtadaaa,โ you whisper, eyes glinting with mischief. โthis oneโs for my favorite viewer.โ
00:05:46โsatoru slams the shortcut, timestamp saved. a second later, he screenshots, then again, then again, frame by frame, until he finds the exact one where your lipโs caught between your teeth and your ass is still halfway in the air.
โfucking perfect,โ he mutters, breath uneven. he pulls the image up on his main screen, zooms in, sharpens it, runs it through noise reduction. the side monitor loops the raw video, your voice sweet and teasing, while the right monitor plays a gif of your earlier moan, your lips parted in that soft, accidental sound.
his handโs already moving, shoving his boxers down, his cock springing free, hard and leaking like itโs been waiting for this.ย
he grips himself, rough and urgent, no pretense of patience. the new setupโs perfectโyour video on the side, his code on the main screen like heโs working, but itโs all you, every pixel, every sound.
he strokes in time with your giggle, his eyes flicking between the gif of your moan and the screenshot of your ass, his mind spiraling into the filthiest corners of his hentai-soaked brain.
he imagines you on that bed, face down, ass up, the babydoll hiked to your waist as he fucks you so hard the headboard cracks. he wants you screaming, wants your cunt pulsing around him, wants to pull your hair and make you look at him as he fills you, over and over, until youโre a mess, until youโre his completely.
his strokes are frantic, his breath hitching, his hips bucking into his hand. he pictures you tied to the bed, like that one doujin he read last month, your wrists bound with those same bikini strings, your thighs trembling as he fucks you through one orgasm into the next.
he wants to cum inside you, wants to watch it drip out, wants to push it back in with his fingers and make you lick them clean. itโs not enough to jerk off anymore, not enough to dreamโhe wants to break you, wants to make you real, wants to fuck you until youโre as addicted to him as he is to you.
he cums with a choked growl, his head tipping back, glasses slipping down his nose as it spills over his hand, his desk, the sticky mess splattering his keyboard.
heโs shaking, gasping, his chest heaving as the side monitor loops your voice, your โbabyโ purring like a mantra. his wristโs sticky, his room a haze of sweat and shame, but he doesnโt care. heโs not even really here.
youโre everywhere nowโthree monitors, three altars, your image burned into his retinas. heโd worship on his knees if you asked.
the next day, another file:
april haul (closeups).mp4
sorry! idk if this oneโs helpful but i liked the shots hehe
he doesnโt unzip his pants. doesnโt need to. heโs already throbbing from the inside out, his body reacting to your name alone. he clicks, watches, kneels, and whispers your name like a benediction, the static in his skull louder than ever.
it starts with a ping.
innocuous. a single pixel shift on the main monitor mid-code, just as satoruโs debugging a script for a deadline he already missed. his side monitor hums with your last video, paused on that frame where your lipโs caught between your teeth, and the third monitorโs open to a half-finished render he hasnโt touched in days. he glances lazily at the notification, expecting another reminder from suguru to shower or eatโ
but no. itโs you.
heyโฆ do u do filming too?
his fingers freeze. heart jams, a dull thud in his chest. the cursor blinks, waiting, mocking. he doesnโt think. doesnโt breathe. his glasses slip down his nose, and he doesnโt fix them. the words burn into his retinas, and his cock twitches before he can process why.
yeah. totally. what kind of shoot?
he sends it, his thumb trembling over the enter key. no reply. not for five whole minutes. the wait is a crucifixion, each second stretching into eternity. he keeps opening and closing the chat, rereading your words like they might shift into something dirtier, something more.
his triple-monitor setup glows, your frozen frame on the side monitor staring at him, lips parted, eyes glinting. heโs already leaking in his pants, a damp spot spreading against his thigh.
then:
just a casual thing. home setup. come over?
he reads it twice. three times. his breath catches, sharp and shallow, like heโs been punched. come over. your dorm. your space. heโs hard, achingly so, his boxers tight and unforgiving. he doesnโt reply, just slams his laptop shut, grabs his camera bag, and stumbles out the door.
he shows up twenty minutes later, barely remembered to wear deodorant, definitely forgot his dignity. his high-end sony alpha mirrorlessโloaded with a lens that costs more than most peopleโs rentโbounces against his chest as he knocks. his palms are slick, his glasses fogging slightly from the heat of his own nerves.
you open the door with a giggle, wrapped in a pastel pink robe that might as well be air. it clings to the curve of your waist, parts at the thigh, revealing soft skin that makes his throat burn. your hairโs still damp, sticking to your collarbones, and the scent of vanilla lotion hits him like a drug. โthanks for coming! iโm kinda nervousโฆโ
he wants to bark out same, but his jaw locks. he swallows instead, the motion too loud in his ears. โno problem.โ his voice is gravel, like heโs choking on his own want. he steps inside, and your dorm swallows him wholeโwarm, cutesy, a pastel fever dream of plush throw pillows, fairy lights, and a pink velvet couch that looks too soft, too inviting.
heโs already imagining you bent over it, your robe hiked up, your moans echoing off the walls. it smells like you sprayed your strawberry perfume over every surface, dizzying, suffocating. his glasses fog again.
he sets up the tripod with shaking hands, the sonyโs weight grounding him just enough to keep from falling apart. you bounce around the living room, humming, fluffing pillows on the couch, fixing your gloss in a heart-shaped mirror propped against a shelf.
โdoes this lighting make me look washed out?โ you ask, stepping back, tilting your head. then you bend to adjust a lamp, and your robe parts just enough to reveal the gentle curve of your ass, bare except for a sliver of lace.
he sees. pretends he didnโt. fumbles the lens cap, twice, the plastic clattering to the floor. his face burns, but he keeps his eyes on the camera, adjusting settings he doesnโt need to touch.
you brush past him again and again, your bare arm glancing his, silk whispering across his knuckles when you pass. he smells shampoo in the air, thick and sweet, and itโs you, all you, sinking into his lungs. โyou nervous?โ you tease, voice light, a giggle curling at the edges.
he scoffs, wiping his palm against his jeans, the denim rough against his slick skin. โpfft. nah. iโve filmed worse.โ a lie, bold and brittle, his voice too tight to sell it.
โworse than me?โ you pout, stepping closer, close enough that he can feel the warmth of your breath. โouch.โ
โi didnโt say that.โ his voice cracks, a hairline fracture. heโs too aware of you, of the way your robe slips an inch, of the way your eyes glint like youโre playing with him.
you tilt your head, wide-eyed, all fake innocence. โsoooโฆ you have filmed pretty girls before?โ
he falters, breath stuttering in his chest. heโs a virgin, hasnโt touched a girl in years, hasnโt wanted toโnot when hentaiโs been enough, when doujins have been his only lovers. but youโre real, and youโre here, and youโre breaking him.
โno one like you,โ he says, unfiltered, raw, the words slipping out before he can stop them.
your lips curl, slow and sweet, a smile that says i know. โhm. figured.โ
you disappear into your bedroom for a few minutes, the door clicking shut. he pretends to adjust the white balance, tweaking settings on the sony that are already perfect, but really heโs staring at the door like it owes him salvation.
his cockโs throbbing, a dull ache that wonโt quit, and he shifts, trying to ease the pressure. the living room feels too small, the pink couch too soft, the fairy lights too intimate. heโs imagining you sprawled across that couch, your robe gone, your thighs spread, his camera capturing every gasp.
the door opens. you emerge. lingerie set, pale and sheer, a mini skirt that barely qualifies, lip gloss freshly reapplied. you look like a doll, saccharine and sinful, every curve a taunt. โcan you help me zip this?โ you turn, bare back exposed, the zipper halfway up, your spine a perfect line that begs to be touched.
he steps forward, too close, his exhale brushing your shoulder. his fingers graze your skinโsoft, warm, realโand you shiver, a small, deliberate tremor. he pulls the zipper up with trembling hands, the metal catching once, his breathing uneven. the distance between you shatters into nothing, the air thick with static.
โyouโre doing this on purpose,โ he rasps, low in your ear, his voice rough with want.
โdoing what?โ you whisper, fake innocence thick as honey, your head tilting just enough to catch his eye.
you look back at him, lashes fluttering, lips parted, glossy and pink. he breaks.
โfuck.โ
he grabs you, his hands rough on your hips, your mouths crashing togetherโteeth, tongue, gasps. your lip gloss smears against his cheek, sweet and sticky, and he groans into the kiss, devouring you.
you moan into his mouth, legs wrapping around his hips as he lifts you onto the counter, the edge biting into your thighs. youโre silk and heat and sin beneath his hands, and heโs forgotten everything elseโhis camera, his code, his shame. only you exist now.
you feel his hard-on through his jeans, pressed against your thighs, and heโs panting, his breath stuttering against your skin as he kisses down your jaw, your neck, the ridge of your spine. his mouth is everywhere, like heโs starved, like heโs trying to memorize you with his tongue.
his glasses slip down, and he grins against your collarbone. โneed to get a better look,โ he mutters, a flimsy excuse to lean closer, until the fog of his breath warms your skin. he bites your collarbone, hard, groaning when he leaves a mark. โwanna see that in playback.โ
he drops to his knees without hesitation, a virginโs worship, reverence born from years of hentai and nothing else. his fingers dig into your thighs, spreading them wide, and he groans like heโs just found salvation. he runs his tongue along the inner part first, slow and teasing, so close to the lace of your panties but not touching what you want.
you try to close your legs, but he forces them open, his grip bruising, his mouth finding the wet spot through the fabric. โfuck, youโre soaked,โ he growls, voice muffled, his tongue dragging heavy and slow, the lace rough against your clit. โbeen wet for me this whole time, huh? fuckinโ tease.โ
you whimper, hips bucking, and he moans into you, the vibration making you gasp. he licks through the panties, relentless, his glasses slipping halfway down his nose but he doesnโt care.
โyou taste better than i dreamed,โ he says, his voice hoarse, hentai dialogue spilling out like itโs natural. he sucks at the fabric, tongue pressing harder, and youโre trembling, your hands fisting his hair as you grind against his face. heโs messy, desperate, his moans louder than yours, like heโs the one about to cum. you do, hard, a cry tearing from your throat as you shudder against his mouth, and he doesnโt stop, lapping at the soaked lace like itโs his last meal.
he presses his cheek to your thigh, sticky and glistening, looking up at you with glassy eyes. โfirst oneโs mine,โ he says, grinding his hips into the floor, his jeans tight with his own need. you donโt think he even realizes heโs doing it. he spreads you open with his fingers, peeling the panties aside, watching your hole twitch with a hunger that makes his mouth water.
โlook at that,โ he murmurs, almost to himself, his voice dripping with awe. โfuckinโ perfect.โ he slides two fingers in, slow at first, then deeper, curling them just right, like heโs memorized every doujin panel that showed him how. โshitโiโve seen this in hentai but itโs better. fuck, itโs real.โ
his fingers pump, slick and steady, and youโre moaning, head thrown back, the counter digging into your hips. he adds a third, stretching you, his free hand jerking himself through his jeans, matching the pace of his fingers inside you. โso tight, baby. youโre gonna feel so good around my cock.โ
he spits on your pussy, a quick, filthy gesture, his eyes locked on yours as it drips down. โthey never show that part right in hentai. had to test it myself.โ you moan, loud and broken, and he moans louder, his fingers slipping out with a wet squelch. he licks them clean, slow, eyes fluttering shut like heโs savoring you. โfuckโwant it all.โ
he stands, trembling, his jeans tented painfully. โcan i?โ his voice is small, almost pleading, a crack in his bravado. you nod, and he fumbles with his belt, shoving his jeans down just enough. he lines himself up, his cock thick and leaking, the tip brushing your entrance. โyouโre so warmโholy shitโyouโre squeezing meโfuckโโ
he slides in, slow at first, gasping as you take him, your cunt tight and slick around him. heโs a virgin, but he knows this, knows the rhythm from years of jerking off to scenes just like this. he freezes, trying not to cum, his glasses fogging as he pants. you clench down, deliberate, and he slaps your thigh, a quick, sharp sting that earns him a whine.
โdonโtโfuck, donโt do that yet.โ
he pulls out, just to slam back in, harder, the counter creaking under you. his rhythmโs sloppy, desperate, but he finds it, each thrust deeper, rougher. โlook at you,โ he growls, his voice pure filth, hentai dialogue spilling free. โtaking my cock like a good little slut. you love this, donโt you? fuckinโ made for me.โ he licks the tears running down your cheek, his tongue hot and greedy. โcrying already? baby, iโm not even close to done.โ
you moan his name, and he loses it, his thrusts turning frantic, messy, like heโs trying to ruin you. โfilm it. show me what you see,โ you gasp, and he fumbles for his phone, almost dropping it with how hard heโs shaking.
the camera app opens in a blur of fingers, then steadies, the lens catching you spread wide beneath him, thighs trembling, pussy stuffed full of his cock. he holds it there, watching the way you flutter around him, his breath ragged. โwatch this later and see how ruined you look, baby,โ he pants, voice hoarse, wild.
he leans in, still recording, whispering filth against your ear. โthatโs right. take it. cry for me. i want you loud.โ his other hand drags the mic closer, the sonyโs external recorder capturing every slick thrust, every broken sob, every wet squelch, loud and obscene.
he fucks you harder, the counter shaking, your tits bouncing with each thrust. โgonna fuck you on every piece of furniture in here,โ he growls, his voice low, unhinged. โthat couch? gonna bend you over it. that table? gonna spread you wide. your bed? gonna fill you till youโre screaming.โ
you clench around him, and he groans, his hips stuttering. โfuck, you like that? you want me to wreck you everywhere, donโt you?โ you nod, gasping, and he slaps your thigh again, harder, leaving a red mark. โsay it, baby. tell me you want it.โ
โi want it,โ you whimper, voice breaking, and he grins, feral, his thrusts turning punishing. you cum again, a shuddering mess, your cry echoing in the mic as your cunt pulses around him, slick dripping down your thighs. he doesnโt stop, doesnโt slow, his cock throbbing as he fucks you through it.
โgonna fill you up,โ he pants, his voice cracking, hentai fantasies spilling out. โgonna cum so deep youโll feel me for days. you want that, donโt you? want my cum dripping out of you?โ
you nod, moaning, and he loses it, slamming into you one last time as he cums, a guttural groan tearing from his throat. itโs hot, messy, spilling inside you, and he keeps thrusting, shallow and desperate, like heโs trying to push it deeper.
satoru doesnโt stop.
in fact, he lifts you, his arms wrapping under your thighs like youโre weightless, his cock still buried inside you, slick and pulsing. your head lolls against his shoulder, your breath hot against his neck, and he groans, low and guttural, as he carries you toward your bedroom.
the air shifts as he crosses the threshold, your perfume hitting him harder hereโfloral and sugary, the same scent that clings to your pillow, your wrist, your everything. itโs thicker in this room, curling around him like a trap, and he kicks the door shut behind him, the click loud in the quiet.
he pushes you toward the vanity, your back meeting the cool glass of the mirror with a soft thud. he bends you over it, slow and deliberate, his hands guiding your hips until your cheek presses against the surface, your breath fogging the reflection.
โlook at you,โ he groans, angling his phone to capture the sceneโyour flushed face, your glossed lips parted, your eyes half-lidded in the mirror as you whine in embarassment.
โpretty little thing, still trying to act innocent.โ his voice is rough, edged with hunger, and he shifts his hips, thrusting shallowly, keeping you pinned, reaching for your lip gloss.
you mumble something, a weak protest or plea, but he shuts it up with a swipe of your lip gloss across your mouth, his hand trembling as he paints your lips pink, the applicator slick and messy.
โperfect,โ he says, pulling back just enough to admire the shine, the way it catches the light. then he pushes in again, deeper, and you both moan, the sound mingling in the air, caught by the sonyโs mic still recording from the tripod in the corner.
he kisses you messilyโgloss smearing, lips hungry, teeth clashing as he grinds his hips, slow and torturous, never breaking the rhythm. the camera stays on, the phone propped against a perfume bottle, capturing every gasp, every shudder.
โtaste so fuckinโ good,โ he mutters against your mouth, his tongue chasing the sticky sweetness. โgonna kiss you till youโre dripping everywhere.โ
satoru lays you on the bed next, gentle but urgent, his hands shaking as he props his phone against a stack of books on your nightstand, the camera app open, framing you perfectlyโyour body sprawled across the pastel sheets, thighs parted, lingerie barely clinging to your skin, the sheer fabric of your top stretched tight over your chest, the mini skirt hiked up to expose the lace of your panties.
he climbs over you, his glasses slipping down his nose, and pushes your legs up, hooking them over his shoulders, the angle forcing you open, vulnerable.
โfuck, you feel like heaven,โ he says, voice cracking, almost reverent, as he slides back inside you, slow and deep, the heat of you pulling a groan from his throat. โiโm never gonna stop, baby.โ
each thrust is deliberate, his hips rolling to hit that spot that makes you arch, your nails raking down his arms, leaving red trails heโll stare at later.
he kisses you through it, his mouth sloppy and desperate, swallowing your moans like theyโre his lifeline. the bed creaks under you, the fairy lights casting a soft glow over your tear-streaked face, and heโs lost in it, in the way you clench around him, so tight itโs like youโre made for him.
โso fuckinโ perfect,โ he pants, his lips brushing your ear, his breath hot and uneven. โtaking my cock like you were born for it.โ
he tugs at the straps of your lingerie top, pulling it down until your tits spill free, the sheer fabric catching under them, and he groans, his mouth latching onto a nipple, sucking hard until you whimper, your hips bucking against him.
but it doesnโt lastโhe needs more, needs to see you break in ways heโs only imagined in the dark of his room, his hand on his cock and your videos on loop.
he pulls out, his dick slick and throbbing, and grabs your hips, flipping you with a low grunt. he drags you up by the waist, positioning you on your knees, your ass high, your face pressed into the sheets, the skirt still bunched around your hips. his hand slides up your spine, pushing your chest down, arching you just right, and he yanks the lace panties to the side, not bothering to take them off.
โthis is what you get for teasing me all these days,โ he growls, his voice unhinged, as he lines himself up and thrusts in, hard and deep, the slap of skin sharp in the quiet room.
you whimper, muffled against the pillow, and he fucks harder, each thrust rocking you forward, the bedframe rattling, your moans spilling free despite the fabric. his phoneโs still recording, propped precariously, catching every angleโyour arched back, your trembling thighs, the way his cock disappears into you with every brutal snap of his hips.
โlook at that pussy,โ he says, his free hand gripping your ass, spreading you open for the camera. โso greedy, swallowing me whole. you love this, donโt you?โ he tugs your hair, pulling your head back, forcing your cries to echo. โlouder, baby. let the whole fuckinโ dorm hear you.โ
he slows, just to torment you, his hips grinding deep, making you squirm, your overstimulated body shaking under him. youโre teary, sobs catching in your throat, but he doesnโt careโhe wants you loud, wants you broken. he leans down, his chest pressed to your back, and bites your shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark.
โcry for me,โ he whispers, his voice rough, his hand slipping around to pinch your nipple, twisting until you gasp. โwanna hear you fall apart.โ he pulls out, leaving you empty, and you whine, a desperate, keening sound that makes him smirk.
โpatience, princess,โ he mocks, slapping your ass lightly, the sting making you clench around nothing.
satoru guides you up, turning you to face him, and pushes you back onto the bed, climbing over you. โwanna see you ride me,โ he says, lying back against the headboard, his hands gripping your hips as you straddle him. he tugs the skirt off completely, tossing it aside, leaving you in just the stretched-out lingerie top and soaked panties.
โbounce,โ he growls, his eyes locked on where you sink down onto him, slow and deliberate, your cunt stretching around him as you take him inch by inch. โshow the camera how you fuck me.โ
his phoneโs angled to catch it allโyour tits bouncing, still half-caught in the sheer fabric, your thighs trembling, the way you gasp every time you drop down, taking him to the hilt.
you move, your hips rolling, your hands braced on his chest, and heโs sweating, his glasses slipping, his breath ragged. he doesnโt let you slow, his hands lifting you, slamming you back down, making you take him deeper. โthatโs it,โ he says, voice hoarse, his fingers digging into your ass, leaving bruises. โfuck yourself on my cock. show me how bad you need it.โ
youโre sobbing now, tears streaming down your cheeks, but you keep going, your moans loud and broken, your body shaking from the overstimulation. he reaches up, ripping the lingerie top off completely, the fabric tearing with a sharp sound, and gropes your tits, squeezing hard, his thumbs brushing your nipples until you shudder.
โthese are mine now,โ he says, his voice pure filth. โgonna mark โem up so you canโt hide.โ
heโs close, too close, but heโs not done.
he pushes you off, gentle but firm, and stands, pulling you with him toward the full-length mirror by your closet. he spins you, pressing your chest to the glass, your hands splaying against it, your tear-streaked reflection staring back.
he kicks your legs apart, his cock nudging your entrance, and slides in, slow and deep, his breath hot against your ear. โlook at you,โ he says, his lips brushing your neck, his hands caging you against the mirror. โlook at my cock ruining your pussy.โ
he thrusts, slow at first, watching your reflectionโyour tears, your drool, your gloss-smeared lips, the way your body shakes with every snap of his hips. โyou wanted a nerd? this nerdโs gonna fuckinโ break you.โ
he fucks you harder, the mirror rattling, your moans bouncing off the walls, loud enough to wake the neighbors. โso fuckinโ pretty,โ he pants, one hand slipping to your clit, rubbing messy, relentless circles. โgonna cum all over my cock, arenโt you? gonna make a mess for me?โ
you nod, sobbing, your body trembling, and he slaps your ass, the sting sharp, making you clench around him. โsay it, baby. tell me youโre mine.โ
โiโm yours,โ you gasp, voice breaking, tears streaming, and he cums with a raw groan, spilling inside you, hot and thick, his hips stuttering as he rides it out.
he doesnโt pull out, doesnโt stop, his cock still hard, still twitching as he fucks his cum deeper, the slick sound obscene. โnot done,โ he mutters, his glasses fogged, his voice wrecked. โgonna make you cum again.โ
he keeps going, relentless, his thrusts slower but deeper, each one pushing his cum back inside, making you shake. his fingers on your clit are merciless, circling fast, and youโre oversensitive, your body convulsing, your moans turning to desperate cries. โsatoruโfuckโtoo muchโโ you sob.
he only slaps your thigh, sharp and stinging, and leans in, his lips grazing your ear. โtoo much? nah, princess, you can take it. wanna feel you squirt for me.โ
he angles his hips, hitting that spot that makes your vision blur, and youโre gone, your body locking up as you cum, a gush of wet heat soaking his cock, dripping down your thighs, pooling on the floor. he groans, loud and broken, his hips jerking as he cums again, another hot rush filling you, spilling out around him.
โfuckโlook at that mess,โ he pants, his hand smearing the slick between your legs, rubbing it into your skin. โall for me.โ
but heโs not done. he pulls you back to the bed, laying you on your side, one leg hooked over his arm as he slides back in, his cock still hard, slick with your cum and his. โone more,โ he begs, his voice cracking, his glasses crooked. โgimme one more, baby. need to feel you again.โ
he thrusts slow, deep, his hand slipping between your legs to tease your oversensitive clit, and youโre crying, tears streaming, your body shaking from the intensity. he bites your neck, leaving marks, and whispers, โlove it when you cry for me. so fuckinโ loud, just how i like it.โ
he shifts, rolling you onto your stomach, keeping you pinned as he fucks you into the mattress, his hand pressing your face into the sheets. โgonna cum all over you,โ he growls, his thrusts turning sloppy, desperate. โgonna fill you up till youโre leaking me for days.โ
you cum again, a shuddering, broken mess, your sobs muffled against the pillow, your body convulsing as you squirt again, weaker but still enough to soak the sheets. he cums with you, a third time, his groan hoarse, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you, the mess dripping out, pooling under you.
โfuckโbabyโโ he gasps, his voice wrecked, his body shaking as he collapses against you, his glasses falling off completely, clattering to the floor.
โmine now,โ he whispers, hoarse and ruined, his forehead pressed to your back, his breath hot and uneven. โyouโre mine now.โ
you nod, too spent to speak, your body limp, your reflection in the mirror a blur of tears and gloss and him, the phone still recording every ragged breath, every whispered โfuckโ as he pulls you closer, not letting go.
but then silence swells, heavy and slow, filling the room like a fog. the airโs thick with the aftermathโsweat, cum, and the lingering sweetness of your perfume, still clinging to the sheets, to him.
satoruโs hands tremble where they hold you, one slipping down to fumble with his phone, stopping the recording with a clumsy tap, the other pressing flat against your stomach, grounding him, grounding you. your breaths are too loud, ragged and uneven, syncing in the quiet like a metronome.
he leans away slightly, just enough to grab a towel from the edge of your bed, awkward in the afterglow like he just realized he desecrated a temple. his glasses are gone, lost somewhere in the mess of sheets, and his hairโs a disaster, sticking to his forehead, damp with sweat.
โshit,โ he mutters, voice barely above a whisper, too quiet for the boy who was growling filth ten minutes ago. โdid iโi mean. that wasnโt too much, right?โ thereโs a crack in his tone, a flicker of panic, like heโs replaying every thrust, every slap, every sobbed moan he pulled from you.
you donโt answer at first, too dazed, too wrung out, your body still humming from the overstimulation, your thighs sticky and trembling.
your silence makes him spiral.
โfuck, i knew it. i pushed too hard. i got carried awayโi was recordingโfuckโi didnโt even askโโ his words tumble out, frantic, his hand raking through his hair as he sits up, eyes wide, searching your face for any sign of regret.
you turn to face him, slow and sore, your cheek pillowed against your arm, the motion making your body ache in the best way. your eyes are still wet, lashes clumped with tears, lips kiss-bruised and sticky with half-worn gloss, swollen from his teeth. you stare at himโthis boy, this dork, with his mussed-up hair and the panicked look of someone who just lived out a lifelong fantasy and now doesnโt know what to do with it.
โiโm okay,โ you say, your voice shredded, raw from screaming his name. โjesus, iโm so okay.โ
he exhales, a shaky rush of air, like heโs been holding it in for hours. he collapses back against you, burying his face in your neck, his lips brushing the bite mark he left earlier. โfuck, you scared me,โ he mumbles, his voice muffled, warm against your skin. then, quieter, almost unhinged: โwe just speedran my entire hentai folder.โ
you laugh, a weak, breathy sound that bubbles up despite the ache in your ribs. โi know.โ
โi didnโt even know i could,โ he says, his voice small, like heโs confessing a sin. โi havenโt even done that in vr.โ
you snort, the sound catching in your throat. โnerd.โ
he groans, but itโs not annoyedโitโs mortified, the kind of sound that comes from knowing heโs exposed himself completely. โiโm never gonna recover from this. i glossed you like a fuckinโ bratz doll. i glossed you.โ his hand gestures vaguely at your lips, still shiny and smeared, and you laugh again, the sound softer now, your body too tired for anything more.
you roll over fully, tugging him down into the blankets with you, the pastel sheets tangling around your legs. he follows like a kicked puppy, his head resting on your chest, his breath warm against your skin. you can feel his heart still racing, his body still trembling from the high.
โi just,โ you mumble, your voice barely audible, โwanted you to notice me. back during the group project, you never looked at me. just your laptop. even when i wore that stupid short skirt.โ
he goes silent, his fingers pausing where theyโre tracing lazy circles on your hip. then, in a voice so small it barely carries: โโฆyou wore that for me?โ
you nod, your cheek brushing his hair.
he lets out the tiniest, most violated gasp, like youโve just rewritten his entire reality. โi thought you were just one of those girls who always looked hot. like, default setting.โ his voice cracks on the last word, and you canโt help the teasing smile that tugs at your lips.
โno,โ you say, your tone playful despite the exhaustion. โi was trying to seduce the dumbass with the mecha desktop background.โ
he muffles a sob into your chest, half-laugh, half-groan, his arms tightening around you. โi love mechaโฆโ he says, like itโs the most tragic thing in the world, and you hum, stroking his hair, your fingers catching in the sweaty strands.
โi know.โ
a long pause settles over you, the kind that feels like it could stretch forever. the fairy lights twinkle softly, casting shadows across the room, and your perfume lingers, mixing with the musk of sex. his breathing slows, but he doesnโt let go, his body still pressed to yours like heโs afraid youโll vanish.
then he lifts his head, his eyes serious, stripped of the wild edge they had before. โcan iโฆ hold you properly? not likeโyโknowโbreeding press. like, real holding.โ his cheeks flush, like heโs embarrassed to admit he wants something soft after all that.
โyou already folded me in half like a love letter,โ you whisper, but you shift into his arms anyway, letting him pull you close. he wraps around you, tight, needy, his hands trembling like heโs still processing youโre real, not just pixels on a screen. his hold is desperate, like heโs trying to memorize the shape of you, every curve, every soft inch, in case this never happens again.
โdonโt make fun of me,โ he says, his voice muffled against your shoulder. โi think my crush on you just speedran into obsession.โ thereโs a rawness to it, a confession that feels too big for the quiet, but it lands soft, like heโs finally letting it out.
โyouโre the one who begged for one more while crying into my shoulder,โ you tease, your voice barely above a whisper, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.
โstop,โ he groans, burying his face deeper, his arms tightening like he could squeeze the embarrassment out of himself. โiโm gonna die.โ
you press a kiss to his forehead, slow and deliberate, your lips lingering on his sweaty skin. โyouโre not gonna die,โ you say, your tone soft but firm. โyouโre gonna eat me out on friday and wear your glasses while you do it.โ
he whimpers, a pathetic, needy sound, his hips twitching involuntarily against your thigh. โsay less,โ he mumbles, his voice wrecked, but thereโs a spark in it, like youโve just lit something in him again. you giggle, wrapping your leg around his waist, pulling him closer, your skin sticking to his in the humid air.
and in the quiet, as youโre both drifting offโsore, sticky, still catching your breathโhe says it again. not ruined this time, not even possessive. just low. certain. like heโs already planning his next sin.
โmine.โ
you donโt answer. just smile into the pillow, heart pounding. because maybe you are. and maybe youโll let him prove it again.
especially once he finds out what cosplay you ordered last week.
taking nerdjoโs glasses while youโre riding ๐ฅธ
cw. 18+. semi public sex. sub undertones. breeding kink.
โโohhhh fuckkkkk,โ
he doesnโt understand itโ any of it. he doesnโt understand how he, of all people, managed to get you. the it girl on campusโ with pretty hairstyles and cutesy nails, flocks of both girls and boys crawling after you for the slightest bit of your attention, is somehow interested in the least known guy aroundโ the lanky, socially awkward physics teacher assistant with fading digimon stickers glued to the back of his worn down computer.
gojo assumes heโs experiencing one hell of a good dream. thatโs the only way to explain the insatiable feeling of wet heat enveloping his aching dick. itโs the only way to explain the pornographic sounds of skin slapping echoing in this empty library. itโs the only way to explain why his balls are begging for release with each grind of needy hips rocking against his own.
he doesnโt want to wake up. he feels the cheap fabric of carpet beneath his fingernails from digging them into the floor. his knuckles are turning white from how hard heโs clenching. thereโs an abnormal tightening of a knot in his guts begging to be snapped. he can feel beads of sweat forming at his hairline and his foggy glasses are slipping past his nose bridge uncomfortablyโ
but he doesnโt want to wake up.
planted on the heels of whatever latest trendy shoes you own, youโre riding his cock as if he were your lifeline. god you feel divineโ your folds swallowing him into your cunt with such ease and precision, walls clenching down the moment heโs balls deep. he can feel your acrylics scratching at his undercut with one hand while the other holds your body steady down his thigh.
gojo doesnโt think heโs breathing, and frankly, isnโt sure if he wants to. youโre recklessโ moaning freely in the emptiness of the establishment and right into the shell of his ear as if your birthright, careless of the thuds of heavy textbooks hitting the floor. thereโs a crease in your brows and your jaw hangs slack, glossy lips parted as they release the hymns of your cries,
โโso deep, can feel you in my stomach!โ
your tits bounce in clockwise motions. youโd freed yourself from your top sometime between the flirting behind bookshelves and his pikachu drawls dropping down to the floor. the sound of your pussy squelching with every bounce is a memory he wouldnโt forget even on his death bedโ cunt so wet he can hardly feel his own dick in you.
the pad of your thumb grazes his bottom lip, and you lean forward to catch it between yours. heโs frozen stiffโ the slip of your tongue in his mouth, your overwhelming sweetness invading his senses. heโs moaning pathetically, growing some security in the muffled sounds, so overstimulated by this insatiable pleasure that his arms start to feel weak.
your tongue swipes at his lips before nibbling on the flesh, โโtaste so good,โ he feels your lips mouthing against his own, and wishes he was able to focus for a split second on what you told him, but the ache in balls are a telltale that this euphoric dream is drawing to an end.
he squints his eyes shut. he tries to focus on the latest chapter of his latest obsession manga and theories heโs conspired. he recalls the sneak of his wrinkly old professorโs ass crack from his early lecture. he thinks back on this auction heโs seen online for retro limited edition video games. did he ever end up submitting that biochem lab assignment dueโ
โgojo.โ
he snaps his eyes open. he didnโt realize heโd clenched his entire facial muscles until the moment he was able to see you againโ only releasing those muscles feeling tightness in his cheeks (amongst other places)(read: his cock).
youโve slowed down your pace. youโve switched your movements from bounces to grinding. he can feel his tip prodding at your gummy walls. your breath fans his cupidโs bow and heโs only now noticing how close in proximity you both are. he can feel your heartbeat against his chest, and heโs positive you can feel his stomach clenching against your own.
he begins to feel more of your body weight on his, a feeling he definitely wants to get accustomed to, as you shift from your feet to your knees. your hand on his thigh trails upwards past his trail of hair, sliding up past the ridges of his abs, over the planes of his chest and meet at his nape with its other duo. thereโs an aroma of vanilla and cherries exuding off youโ
heisenburgโs uncertainty principle. star wars mandalorian culture. the roswell ufo incident. fucking neon genesis evangelionโs a cruel angelโs thesisโ
โyou donโt like me?โ you ask him, all doey eyed like. it doesnโt sound like a legitimate question, but his โhuhโ does draw more into a whine when you intentionally clamp down on his dick. he doesnโt miss the mischievous glint in your eyes.
gojo bites down on his lower lip, fiddling with a loose thread on the carpet. his body releases a shudder at the chills creeping up his spine when you trace a finger down the slope of his neck, โw-what?โ he asks weakly, huffing as his toes curl in his socks.
this time, you cock your head just barely to the side, and he watches your gaze trail from his lips to his eyes and back to his lips. despite the agonizingly slow pace, you never stop riding him. his cock is still graced by your warmth, still snatching his soul through his slit. your lashes bat twice before glancing back up at his eyes.
โyou donโt like me.โ youโre not asking this time, your tone dripping in seduction and like a fool, finds himself swayed. youโre teasing himโ he can see it in the way the corner of your lips quirk into your infamous smile. youโve got him wrapped all around your pretty fingerโ he knows it and you definitely know it.
as if he was anybody to not like you. your ass cheeks clench when you drive your body forward, gripping on his cock so tight he can feel the wind knocked out his lungs, โno! are you, ngh, crazyโ of course i doโโ
โbecause i like you.โ it falls short of a whisper, but the vibrations of your words against his lips shoot right to his heart and balls, and he knows his blotchy cheeks are now flushed red for an entirely different reason.
he answers faster than his mind can process, his stomach jumping with butterflies and an oncoming orgasm. your eyes wonโt leave hisโ like a deceiving siren baring deep into his soul and rendering him vulnerable before consuming his entire being. not too far from his reality, hips bucking upwards as desperately as possible to emphasize his immediate answer, โi like you tooโโ
โyou wonโt look at me,โ gojo hadnโt realized he shied away from your gaze, pouring his entire focus on not spilling both his heart and cum right into you, โtalk to me.โ
โi-itโs just, um,โ he tries to flick his eyes back onto yours, but youโre still staring so intensely behind siren eyes and still rocking your hips. your fluids drip past your cunt and down his sack, before staining the carpet, โiโm aโmmph, nobody and youโreโ well, youโre you,โ he feels a hot tongue glide over the accumulated sweat on his neck and humps up again, โyโre just so pretty and every time i look at you i get the urge to c-cum but,โ your teeth sink into his jugular before nibbling and he whines, throwing his head back, โi wantโ need you to cum first. . .โ
thereโs a beat of silence for a while. youโve even halted your grinding altogether. he prays to god he didnโt mess up the one good thing thatโs happened to him in all his twenty one years of living. youโve even popped his now bruised skin from your lipsโ hovering right over the mark you left on him. pleasure licks at his limbs feverishly, back arching in hopes to dig even deeper (if possible) in your pussy.
you pull away from his neck and the tip of your nose is back to grazing his own. your usually styled hair is now a mess, your skin dampening from moisture and your lip gloss now swapped for your and his salivaโ your overall classic, picture perfect image completely abandoned,
and he doesnโt think youโve looked any prettier.
โso,โ you draw out, freeing a hand from his locks to graze over the throbbing love bite at his neck. gojo sniffs, pushing his foggy glasses back up on his bridge with the back of his hand, and you caress the throbbing flesh, โthe problem is when you look huh. . .?โ
his neck is suddenly released from blissful torture and he feels his frames coming off his face from no effort of his own. his vision slowly fades and his pupils dilate to accommodate to his now poor quality of sight, โwhat are youโโ
and his breath hitches. he can only make out your shape through your sinful curves but thereโs no mistake from your silhouetteโ your hands, now holding his glasses hostage, press at his chest, โtrust me,โ you apply firm pressure from your palms to his upper body, and he feels himself sinking into the floor, back meeting the dirty carpet.
trust you? heโd lay his life on the line for a woman like you.
his fingers spread as his palms face the sky, and his breath staggered. the bookshelves, windows and study rooms are all blurry as fuckโ which is both off putting and extremely risky since library hours were still valid at this time, but despite it all, it felt as if he could see you clear as day. gojo would usually never put his academics on the line, but he couldnโt deny the thrill of possibly getting caught having sex with the finest girl in school in a public library had his cock twitching incessantly.
god, he is just so happy to be here.
your fingers slide his glasses atop your nose bridge, and your cheeks split into a cheeky smile, hips beginning to roll back into their previous tempo. he feels your hands grabbing his own, before resting them at your hips. heโs a greedy man, and since the opportunity may only come once in his lifetime, he slides his hands further to your ass., and with a gulp, grabs the flesh greedily. damnโ it hardly fits in his palms.
thereโs a symphony of moans coming from you both when you lift your hips up, and itโs downright disgusting how turned on he gets at your essence trickling down his shaft and past his balls. your pussy lips drool and latch onto his tip tightly, before entirely releasing him and slipping your hand between your thighs. you kneed his nuts, fondling the testicles between your digits expertly and his back arches off the floor, โshouldnโt be an issue anymore, yeah?โ you hum.
โy-yeahโ oh god, yes,โ gojo nods dumbly, toes curling in his socks as you proceed to stroke his cock. his tip is weeping in pre cum blended with your own wetness, and the faster you flick your wrist, the tighter his stomach contracts. heโs lasted quite some time now, considering this being his first time and all, but thereโs only so much a man can hold back. his fingernails dig crescent moon shapes into the mounds of your ass as his hips chase after your touch with every stroke. โw-wait, fuck, iโm gonna cumโโ
โyeah?โ you encourage him, hunching just over his weeping dick, still holding him at his base. you drag his tip in between your lips, back and forth, while your other hand feels him up at his abs. โwhere do you wanna finish? on my face?โ he whines, mindlessly humping and your smirk deepens as you slowly sink down, โon my tits?โ gojo shakes his head, and feels drool coming from the corner of his lips. his limbs are on fire and his groin feels like itโs on the verge of explosion, โon my ass?โ youโre about halfway down, โor. . . inside?โ
โplease,โ he doesnโt care if heโs begging. snowy lashes bat open as his teary unfocused eyes adjust to the dimmed lights. even your silhouette is sexy, โplease lemme cum inside, i-iโll do anything.โ
โhmm, anything?โ you purr, knees finally hitting the floor as you straddle him once more. he lets out a guttural groan at the familiar feel of your silky walls entrapping his cock. his mind is fucking hazy and despite never having consuming alcohol, he feels drunk.
โyes,โ he pleads, rolling his hips impossibly deeper into you, euphoric pleasure shooting in his bloodstream, โa-anything you want, i swear,โ at the sudden intrusion, you let out a loud gasp when his tip bumps into your cervix and drop your body forward, arms giving out.
chest to chest, skin to skin, your lips hover over his as your back dips into an arch, forcing a penetration deeper in your guts. your palms are pressed flat onto the floor at the side of his head, and he can make out his glasses sitting lazily on the ball of your nose. he slides his hands up your sides, kneading at every inch of your flesh, before sliding back down to your ass.
โeven my homework? assignments?โ you tease breathily, a strangled moan ripping out your throat when his knees push up and fucks into you. your body jerks forward as his feet plant to the floor, hands still gripping on your ass.
when he snaps his hips up, you roll yours down, and the matching intensity sends his brain haywire. heโs desperate for release, forcing your hips down as he nudges his cock languidly into your cunt. his jaw falls slack and he nods again, dumbly, โngh, for the rest of the s-school year,โ
โthat easy with you?โ you giggle, but is easily interrupted when he leans forward to catch your lips in a messy kiss. thereโs a shit ton of saliva involved, some even escapes past your mouths and down your jaws, but he couldnโt care any lessโyou tasted heavenly. he wishes he had the time to eat your pussy, heโs positive you taste holier down there.
โitโs your world.โ gojo moans, snaking his hands from your ass to wrap around your upper body. now caught in his embrace, you let your head fall limply into the crook of his neck as he works his dick in and out of you. he means what he saidโ it is your world, and heโs nothing more than a happy servant. โiโll do it allโ bring your books to class, rub your feetโ iโll bark if you need me toโ just, please, please, please let me cum inside.โ
your moans vibrating from his neck run straight to his ears and fuels him further. heโs thrusting relentlesslyโ thereโs no set pace at all, and heโs so close to finishing heโs completely forgotten about wanting you to cum first. he finally understands why everybody obsesses over sexโ he never wants to let you go.
your head pushes up from his neck, nosing at his jaw. he feels your hands cradling his hair, and your lips pressing kisses at the corner of his mouth. his heart skips a beatโ he revels in the attention youโre giving him, even if itโs just for the moment. he knows he wonโt ever be this lucky again, so he might as well enjoy the ride while heโs here.
โyou wanna breed my pussy?โ you bite your lip, each stroke in your cunt jerking the glasses down the slope of your nose. despite the dense flog clouding the lens, he can feel your eyes on him. he nods desperately, tightening his hold on you, and the new angle has your clit dragging against his pelvis, โmmphโ okay, yeah โ put a baby in me, freak.โ
and so he does. he thrusts as spurts of cum shoots inside your womb. his balls tighten as his hips rut, arms clutching onto your body with every fibre in him. you smell good, feel good, look goodโ and your cunt milks him dry for whatever heโs worth.
his orgasm feels short of an eternity yet simultaneously a second, his soul having transcended into an outwardly dimension. and itโs only when you scoot your ass upwards, sliding a hand between both warm bodies, that you collect his cum on the pad of your fingers. he blinks hazily, zeroing his focus when he sees you pop your fingers into your mouth.
โmhm,โ you hum at the taste. heโs panting heavily, body riding a euphoric high heโs yet to come down from. you donโt seem to mind, leaning forward to catch his lips once again. and he lets you, moaning at the taste of himself on your tongue. when you pull away, thereโs a thin string of cum induced saliva pulling at your lips. โโs my world, right? want my pussy in your mouth.โ
ห ๐ฃฒ reblogs and comments are always appreciated ma girliies <333
part.1 part.3
virgin!nerdjo barely got the tip inside you before white-hot ropes of cum were already spilling from his cock.
his face burned a deep, humiliating red, frustration twisting his features. โshitโfuck, i'm sorry, iโโ he was mortified :(( this wasn't how it was supposed to go. he had reviewed the literatures (even forums!!), constructed theoretical models, simulated countless scenarios in the deep recesses of his mindโbut none of them accounted for this. for failing at frame one. he buried his face in his hands, mumbling about how fucking useless he was, how he didn't deserve to touch youโ
but virgin!nerdjo shut up real quick when you kissed his temple, soft and sweet, whispering that it was okay, that you could try again when he got hard. statistically, he had prepared for ridicule, for you to laugh or sigh or at least look disappointedโbut instead you were kind. his chest ached, overwhelmed by the sheer improbability of it all.
you kept pressing those gently, featherlight kisses on his face as you saw sweat beading along his temples as virgin!nerdjo's mind spiraledโbecause what do you meanย heย came, andย you didn't? what do you meanย heย got to feel good,ย and you didn't? not happening.
his gaze flicked to his desk, to the scattered notes, the open textbooks, the half finished equationsโ
virgin!nerdjo snatched his bic pen up before he could second-guess himself, adjusting his glasses (because god forbid heย couldn't see a thingย without them) and told you to stay still. your brows knitted in curiosity but you obeyed, eyes tracking the cool, smooth tip as he brought it to your lips. he traced them firstโthe same way he would annotate an important diagram. then down, slowly, as he imagined his tongue would if he wasn't still too flustered to use it. he skimmed it over your throat, down your sternum, circling each nipple before pressing the cold plastic directly against one. you whimperedโthe contrast of the icy bic pen against your burning skin sent a shiver up your spine.
virgin!nerdjo continued lower, hypothesized. his glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose as he drags the pen over your stomach, past your belly button, until he reached the soft skin of your inner thighs. he hesitated, only for a second.
virgin!nerdjo swallowed hard, his free hand adjusting his glasses as he pressed the cold tip firmly against your swollen bud. you jerked beneath him. he took a sharp inhale before he began circling it in slow, teasing motions. his earlier embarrassment melted into something hungrier, completely focused on your helpless moans.
virgin!nerdjo ran the smooth plastic length between your slick foldsโnot pushing in, justย gliding, experimenting, observing. he swore he could feel the warmth through the bic pen itself, feel the way it picked up your slick with every pass.ย
virgin!nerdjo had a pretty shade of pink creeping down his neck as he used his trembling hand to spread your legs wider. bringing his index and middle fingers together to press against your puffy lips, trapping the bic pen between them. a choked whimper escaped your lips as your arousal smeared against the plastic, against his fingertipsโwarm and wet andย so muchโand when a choked whimper escaped your lips, his head spun.
virgin!nerdjo had never seen anything like this beforeโnever imagined anything could be this erotic, thisย intoxicating. he was supposed to be the one making you feel good, right? then why did he feel likeย heย was the one getting unraveling here? cock throbbingโstill sensitive, still stickyโbut already trying to get hard again.
virgin!nerdjo kept going, his movements more purposeful now, rubbing the cold tip over your clit in slow, firm circlesโmemorizing every little movement, every choked moan, every twitch of your hips as youย desperatelyย chased more friction.
virgin!nerdjo was losing it, breath shuddered as he pressed the tip down again, drunk on your reactions. he wanted to devour you.ย taste you. he was supposed to be embarrassed, supposed to beย ashamedโbut all he could think about was how pretty you looked like this. he wanted to combust. he wanted nothing more than to hear your little moans, and see your hips jerking. the way you whinedย hisย name was enough to send him into another full-system crash. his pupils were so blown, you could barely see the pretty shade of blue in his eyes.
virgin!nerdjo has his glasses entirely fogged up, breath coming out in short, choked little gasps. his white fluffy hair stuck to his forehead in a disheveled mess as he worked you upโover and over and over. and when you were teetering right on the edge when your moans turned high and desperateโhe stopped.
virgin!nerdjo shouldn't find that hot, he wasn't even edging you on purpose!! he was justโฆentranced. the way your body tensed, your lips parting in frustration, fingers twitching as if you were tryingย notย to grab his wrist and force him to keep going.
oh.
maybe virgin!nerdjo wasn'tย soย bad at this after all.
Megumi never prides himself on being professional. Hardly ever listens to instructions unless it benefits him in some way and chooses to do things based on his own conscious. However, even he agrees that itโs unprofessional of him to stare at his classmate. Specifically, your ass.
This man canโt help himself though. He loves the curve of your figure, the ratio of your ass to your waist, the wide swing of your hips, and the thick juiciness of your cheeks in too tight leggings, all coming down to press against perfectly shaped thighs as you walk.
He also thought himself as to not being like those two idiots, never spending a prolonged time on the physical appearance of others but damn if Itadori wasnโt right about a nice ass.
Megumi didnโt think this way about you at first, not until he got to know you. Now, he canโt fight it whenever youโre walking ahead of him and his eyes wander down to scope out the faint panty line hidden behind your clothes, digging and hugging into your cheeks.
Heโll wonder how it feels to touch you, to squeeze and sink his fingers into your rounded buttocks. Maybe even spank you. He never wondered if he liked spanking, never thought about it, but now the action seems very tempting whenever you bend over near him.
Megumi will never say as much about how he stares, curses under his breath whenever someone tries to talk to him when heโs more busy watching you, afraid that theyโll notice that his eyes are busy less than somewhere appropriate.
Heโll also never say much about how his pants tighten whenever you back into him and how he fights to hold his hands at your hips whenever you โ rarely โ talk him into being your designated and going to the club to dance and you sway and grind against him.
When heโs finally allowed to touch it, touch you, heโs all hands on desk. Sliding his hands into your back pockets or putting his hand up your skirt, rubbing and pinching at your ass casually before pulling you down on top of him, settles large calloused hands on your rear, and begins to palm circles into it.
Thereโs so much teasing from you at first and so much denial and huffing from him whenever youโre in public and heโs too embarrassed to do anything more than look.
In the comfort of more familiar areas or when heโs sure no one is paying too close attention, he goes out of his way to move you to the side whenever he needs to get by; his hands at your hips, thumbs pressing at the side of your ass, pretending to casually shuffle you over just enough for him to squeeze himself between you and the door frame when a simple โexcuse meโ would have sufficed. But that wouldnโt be as fun, and he certainly likes the excuse to touch you.
Being the big spoon is almost a must for him when he wants to feel your figure pressing back against his, always adjusting and pushing on you before holding you close enough to feel your ass against his crotch. Itโs warm to him, intimate, and a bit of a turn on. The position always leads to the feeling of his hard arousal pressing against you in the morning.
He absolutely loves to doggy-style you when he feels like being rougher and in control. He watches the bonce of your ass back against his lap, the jiggle with each of thrust of his hips before he tightly presses a hand to your lower back.
And he discovers, he does very much like spanking.
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