Gojo Satoru accidentally makes you squirt ♡
୨୧ — Gojo's hands shake like he's eighteen again, gripping your hips with white knuckled desperation, "Fuck, fuck, fuck-" his vocabulary reduced to caveman like grunts when you're under him like this, years of experience apparently meaning jack shit when your legs wrap around his waist.
He's all stuttering rhythm and graceless hunger, like he forgot how bodies work. One second he's jackhammering into you with supernatural speed, the next he's frozen completely, forehead pressed to your collarbone, panting like he just ran a marathon because your warmth threatens to undo him entirely... "Jesus, you’re…" He breaks off with a choked laugh, hips jerking erratically. "Fuck, been too long since I- shit, do that thing again. With your tongue again, please. Right there."
His demand is adorably needy, punctuated by a sharp, sloppy thrust as you scrape your teeth against the tendon of his neck, just how he likes it~.
Everything about his technique is pure chaos. No finesse, just raw need and that stupid boyish grin even when he's buried deep enough to kiss your cervix with the tip of his dick.
When you arch beneath him, a low moan tearing from your throat, your cunt clamps down hard around his cock. It’s a vice grip, a sudden, violent spasms that rippled through your entire body… Satoru’s eyes go wide, pupils blown. And for a moment, he forgets his name, yours, and any word that isn’t an expletive as you completely come undone.
It’s not just a flutter, not just a wetness, but a gush. Hot, sudden. A flood of your release soaking his entire cock, his balls, the thick thatch of white hair at his base. It rushes out of you in thick, uncontrollable waves, splattering onto his sheets beneath your ass with an audible wet splssh. The sound is obscene. Juices slicking his length, dripping down him, making his thrusts messy- obscenely wet.
"Did you just-? His voice is thick with pure awe, breathless. The stupid grin returns as he drives into that soaked cunt of yours, feeling the slick mess coating him. "Whoa! Youre like a little Squirtle." The ridiculous Pokémon joke tumbles out mid thrust… He’s so fucking pleased with himself, he almost fumbles his rhythm entirely,"Get it? 'Cause you just squir—"
"Satoru, I swear to God-" you gasp, but the protest is cut off as he angles his hips sharply, burying himself impossibly deeper.
"Yeah, yeah, less talking, more-"
The new angle hits that spongy spot inside you dead on, hard. A choked cry rips from you, followed instantly by another gush, soaking him further, the sheets beneath you now a dark, soaked circle.
But there’s something beautiful about how he fucks when he's like this- like he's afraid you'll disappear- like if he doesn't fill you up immediately you'll change your mind. Like he wants to leave a piece of himself with you, so you won't forget him.
