❝ 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙙𝙟𝙤 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙤 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠
genre: smut, university au
content warning: mdni (minors do not interact), no kids allowed!, explicit sexual content, size kink (implied/discussed), virgin!satoru, nerd!satoru, nerd!gojo, praise kink, breast play
The locker room was rich with the scent of expensive perfume and the humid steam from the showers. You sat on the wooden bench, slowly unlacing your sneakers, while the girls gossiped nearby. Usually, you tuned them out, but one name made you pause: Satoru Gojo.
"I’m telling you, it’s not just a rumor," a girl whispered, leaning against the lockers with a smirk. "My cousin saw him in the medical wing getting a physical last semester. She said when he took his pants off, the nurse actually dropped her clipboard."
"No way," another girl laughed, snapping her sports bra. "He’s such a dork, though. He wears those baggy sweaters and hides in the back of the lab. You really think he’s packing like that?"
"It’s always the quiet ones," one of the girls countered, gesturing with her hands to a length that seemed borderline impossible. "He’s like 6'3 and all legs. Think about the physics of it. The guy has a massive dick. It’s probably heavy enough to give him back pain."
You bit your lip, feeling a strange heat crawl up your neck. You knew Satoru from your Advanced Physics seminar. He was a stuttering mess that whenever you asked to borrow a pencil, his face turned as white as his hair. He was a socially stunted nerd who looked like he’d faint if a girl even touched his hand.
But the image stayed with you. The idea of that stuttering, blushing boy carrying something so... substantial between his legs was a contrast you couldn't ignore.
The next afternoon, the library was nearly empty. Satoru was tucked away in a corner cubicle, surrounded by three different textbooks on thermodynamics.
You didn't sit across from him this time. You walked right up to his side, sliding your bag onto the desk.
"The girls in the locker room won't shut up about you, Satoru," you said, voice loud enough to make him jump.
He practically fell out of his chair. "A-about me? Why? Did I... did I leave my lab report somewhere?" He scrambled to adjust his glasses, which were sliding down his nose.
"They’re talking about your dick," you said flatly.
Satoru’s entire face went a shade of crimson. He choked, letting out a series of dry coughs while staring at you in pure horror. "I—pardon? Th- that’s—that’s highly inappropriate for a library setting! Or any setting!"
"Is it true?" You stepped closer, invading his personal space. You watched his eyes dart down to your lips, then down to your chest, then back to his books. He was breathing like he’d just run a marathon.
"I don't know what—what 'it' is," he stammered, voice dropping to a panicked whisper. "I’m just a student. I’m just trying to study."
"You're shaking," you noted, reaching out to touch his arm.
The moment your fingers brushed his sweater, he let out a sharp, hitched breath. His hand flew to the table to steady himself, and as he shifted, the fabric of his slacks tightened. Your eyes followed the movement. Even through the professional cut of his trousers, the outline was undeniable. It was thick, long, and already reacting to your proximity.
The rumors were an understatement.
"Take them off," you commanded.
"My... my pants?" he squeaked, his eyes wide with terror.
"Your glasses, Satoru. Give them to me."
His hand trembled as he reached up, slowly sliding the thick black frames off his face. He blinked, his long, snowy lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones. Without the glasses, the "nerd" persona vanished. His eyes were piercing, electric blue and incredibly beautiful.
He looked at you properly for the first time, and you saw the raw hunger hidden behind his shyness. He was getting hard just from you looking at him.
"You're a total mess," you whispered, leaning down so your cleavage was inches from his face. "You’ve got all that power between your legs and no idea what to do with it, do you?"
Satoru’s gaze was glued to your breasts, his mouth hanging open slightly. "I... I've never... I don't know the proper... protocol."
"Forget the protocol," you said, taking his hand and placing it firmly on your thigh. He flinched like he’d been burned, but he didn't pull away. "You’re going to stay right here, and I’m going to teach you how to be a man."
That night, a group project meeting happened at one of your mutual friend’s house. While the rest of the group was huddled around a laptop in the kitchen, you had claimed the beanbag in the corner of the living room, sprawled out with your legs tucked under you.
Satoru sat on the floor nearby, his physics textbook open on his lap, but he hadn't turned a page in thirty minutes. Every time you leaned forward to reach for your drink, your low-cut top dipped, offering a clear view of the soft curves he’d been dreaming about since the library.
He was sweating. His glasses kept fogging up, and he looked like he was vibrating with nervous energy. You caught him staring again with a fixated, wide-eyed gaze at your chest. He looked like a man staring at a holy relic.
"Everyone’s going to the store to grab snacks and more caffeine," one of your group mates announced, grabbing his keys. "Satoru, are you staying to finish the calculations?"
"I—uh, yes. Calculations. Very important," Satoru stammered.
As soon as the front door clicked shut, the silence in the house became heavy. You shifted, sitting up straight and rolling your shoulders back, purposefully making your breasts more prominent. Satoru’s head snapped toward you, pupils blown so wide the blue of his eyes was almost gone.
"You’ve been staring at them all day, Satoru," you said. No flowery metaphors, just the blunt truth.
He jumped, his textbook sliding off his lap. "I—I wasn't—I mean, the light in here is very—"
"Shut up," you smirked, crawling toward him on your hands and knees. You stopped right in front of him, so close your knees brushed his. "Do you want to hold them?"
Satoru choked. He actually made a soft, whimpering sound in the back of his throat. He looked at your face, then back down at your chest, his hands twitching at his sides. He looked terrified, like a woman’s touch might actually kill him, but the bulge in his pants told a much different story.
Slowly, agonizingly, he nodded. "Yes," he whispered. "Please."
You let out a low, confident laugh, enjoying the way he crumbled under your gaze. You reached out and grabbed the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough to tease him, but then you stopped.
"I’ll let you hold them," you said. "But there’s a price. You have to give me a kiss first."
The color drained from his face before rushing back twice as hard. He looked like he was about to have a heart attack. "I... I can't."
"Why not?"
"I don't know how," he confessed. He looked like a kicked puppy, white hair falling over his eyes. "I’ve never... I don't know where to put my hands. I don't know what to do with my mouth. I’ll mess it up. I’ll be..."
You reached out, cupping his jaw and forcing him to look at you. His skin was burning hot.
"Don't worry about it," you murmured, leaning in until your lips were a breath away from his. "I’m going to teach you. And if you’re a good student... I’ll let you do a lot more than just hold them."
You felt him shudder, his hands finally coming up to rest tentatively on your waist.
"First lesson," you whispered against his mouth. "Open your eyes. I want you to see exactly what you're doing to me."
Satoru was frozen as his hands hovered at your waist. His breath was hitching, coming in short, jagged bursts that smelled faintly of the sweetened coffee he’d been nursing all afternoon.
"Stay still," you commanded.
You leaned in, closing the final inch. When your lips first pressed against his, Satoru let out a muffled sound: half-gasp, half-whimper. His lips were startlingly soft, but they were stiff, pressed together in a tight line because he was too scared to move. He was vibrating, his entire muscular frame radiating the tension that was coiled tight, centered entirely in the heavy weight between his legs.
"Satoru," you murmured against his mouth, "you have to breathe. And relax your lips. Copy me."
You nipped at his bottom lip, which sent a visible shockwave through him. His eyes were wide and fluttering while watching you. Slowly, he began to mimic you. He softened his mouth, his lips parting just a fraction.
Encouraged, you slanted your mouth over his, deepening the kiss. It wasn't a "nerdy" kiss anymore. As soon as he felt the slide of your lips against his, something shifted in him. His hands, previously hesitant, suddenly gripped your waist with a firm, possessive strength.
"Better," you whispered, pulling back just enough to tease him. "Now, open your mouth a little more. Let me in."
He obeyed like a devotee. When you slid your tongue across his lower lip, he let out a shaky groan that vibrated deep in his chest. When your tongues finally met, it was clumsy at first, but he was a fast learner. He tasted sweet, and the heat radiating off him was becoming unbearable.
He started to get into it, his head tilting instinctively to get a better angle, his tongue darting out to meet yours with a desperate, hungry curiosity. He was kissing you like a man starving, his shy exterior completely melting away under the friction of your mouths. You could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, sounding like a drumbeat in the quiet living room.
His hands slid from your waist, moving up your back, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer, groaning into the kiss. He was visibly losing control as the bulge in his slacks was now pressing hard against your thigh, thick and insistent.
You pulled away just as he was starting to find a rhythm, leaving him breathless and dazed. A thin silver thread of saliva connected you for a second before breaking. Satoru’s eyes were glassy, his lips were wet and swollen from your attention.
"You're a very good student, Satoru," you whispered, reaching down to grab the hem of your shirt again.
He was panting, chest heaving as he looked at you, he looked desperate right now: like a nerd who had just been given a taste of heaven.
"The kiss... was that... was that right?" He rasped. Almost shy.
"It was a start," you smirked, slowly pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it onto the floor. "Now, don't you have something you wanted to hold?"
Satoru watched as your shirt hit the floor, his brain short-circuited at the sight of you in just your bra. The girl he likes was stripped down in front of him, and the reality of it was hitting him harder than any physics equation ever could. His eyes tracked the curve of your breasts, the way they moved as you breathed, and he looked like he was witnessing a miracle.
He swallowed hard and looked up at you, his blue eyes searching yours for permission, still terrified that this was some sort of cruel joke.
"Can I..." he started, voice cracking. He cleared his throat, trying to regain a sliver of composure, though his trembling hands gave him away. "Can I hold them now? Please?"
Quick Note: Part 2 here or go directly on my profile to continue reading.
