A loud knock jolts you from your focus, your stationery practically shakes from the force. You murmur to yourself, “What now?” Irritation evident in your voice as you push yourself out of your seat at your desk and head towards your dorm door.
You’re met with a very groggy, very out-of-it Satoru.
“Satoru? What are you doing here — why have you got gauze in your mouth?”
He pushed past you with a groan and flopped down onto your bed as if he owned it. “Just got my wisdom teeth removed, sweets.” His words were slurred, almost incoherent. You stared at him, pondering why on earth your fuck buddy was coming to your dorm out of all places after just having his teeth extracted.
“Aren't you going to cuddle me?”
You snorted at his garbled words, the idea being so foreign that the only reasonable reaction was to laugh. “Satoru, we never cuddle after you visit, we high five and one of us leaves after getting dressed.” The white-haired man’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets at your words, “But… why would I not want to cuddle my girlfriend?”
Hold on, girlfriend?
How many painkillers was this guy on?
You moved closer to him, sitting at the edge of the bed and rubbing your hand up and down his shin. “We aren’t dating, Toru. We just hook up sometimes, remember?” You tried to sound as kind as possible, lowering your voice so as not to embarrass him. Satoru however just shook his head, drool slipping from the sides of his mouth as he sat up.
“Nuh uh, we are dating because I’m sooo in love with you, pretty girl.” He tried to smirk but his cotton-stuffed mouth prevented that, instead, he ended up looking a tiny bit lopsided.
You froze, eyes wide, mouth agape at his confession. “You don’t mean that, you’re practically high from how many meds you’re on.” You tried to get up but he grabbed your hand and pulled you back onto the bed with him. “No, I love you.” He repeated in a sing-song voice, nuzzling his head into your hand.
“My girlfriend, let me love you...” You felt him starting to fall limp against your hand, eyes wavering as he fought a drug-induced sleep. You signed, leaning closer in to press a soft kiss to his damp forehead. “We can talk about whatever that was tomorrow, Toru.”
“Let me love you… don’t you give up, nah-nah-nah…”
“You listen to Justin Bieber?”
“Suguru played it in the car, told me to serenade you…”
“uh… why is sensei doing push-ups?” yuji asks, when he, nobara, and megumi enter the classroom.
satoru’s pushing himself up and down with one hand because, according to you, normal push-ups weren’t enough. but even then, he’s barely breaking a sweat. and he’s grinning, while you stand over him, watching with your arms crossed.
his uniform jacket is folded over the back of a chair, leaving him in his compression shirt, arm bulging and back tensing with each lift and fall of his body.
“i upset my-- hah beautiful, smart-- hah strong, gorgeous, perfect wife,” he pants, “punishment fits the crime.”
he really is right where he wants to be.
megumi doesn’t even bat an eye - this was the least unusual thing that you and satoru do. he slides into a chair with a sigh.
“how many does he have to do?”
“a hundred,” you say. satoru lifts his head to look up at you, mouth parted, little pink hearts in his eyes peering at you over the rim of his glasses. “he’s on seventy-two.”
his grin widens. “you know, this isn’t a challenge for me. why don’t you sit on my back, sweetheart?”
you crouch down in front of him and his eyes light up. “i know what you want, and you don’t deserve my touch.” you push his head down so he’s facing the floor again, and he grunts when you press extra weight, forcing his body down. “only twenty-three left. you can do it, my love.”
if his heart wasn’t beating fast enough before, it definitely was now. especially with the saccharine tone you used at the end of your sentence.
god, was he down bad.
“… call us when you’re done,” megumi says, already out of the classroom.
silly thought inspired by this video HAHA can you tell he makes me a little a lot insane
satoru doesn’t realize just how tall he is. . . "( – ⌓ – )
tall boyfriend perks are really good.
he reaches everything. top shelves, high cabinets, that one lightbulb you swore you’d get to later— done in seconds, no stool needed.
he doubles as your personal ladder and your built-in heater. you’re basically wrapped in a walking blanket 24/7.
but the cons?
he takes up space without meaning to, and the fact he already loves manspreading whenever doesn’t help at all.
it’s as if everything has gotten smaller. that’s the only logical explanation. because there’s no way one man should be able to take up this much space.
“baaabe,” you whine, shoving at his shoulder. “move.”
a sleepy hum is your only response. one long arm tightens around your waist, dragging you back against him like you haven’t just spent the last five minutes trying to wiggle free.
“you’re warm,” he mumbles into your hair, voice thick with sleep. “stay.”
“i’m gonna fall off the bed. you’re literally on my side.”
this is your life— losing every nightly battle for mattress territory, practically kicked out of your bed simply because he can’t keep his limbs to himself.
a frustrated groan slips out before you give up, finally managing to slip out from his hold. he shifts, reaching instinctively for you, but you’re already gone, padding out of the bedroom and collapsing onto the couch.
it lasts exactly ten minutes.
you wake up once more to something heavy pressing into your back.
“…you’ve got to be kidding me.”
behind you, half-folded onto a couch that is very much not built for a grown man his size, satoru has somehow wedged himself in, arms wrapped tightly around you.
“you left,” he murmurs, nuzzling into your shoulder without opening his eyes.
“because you took over the entire bed.”
“mm.. sorry.”
“and now you’re taking up the entire couch as well.”
he hums again, clearly unconcerned, and pulls you even closer— if that’s somehow possible.
you try to twist around to glare at him, but his grip only tightens, his legs tangling with yours until escape is officially impossible.
“mooove.”
“don’t wanna,” he shoots back, a lazy grin tugging at his lips even in the dark.
nerdjo’s a fool for his pretty, high maintenance girlfriend.
I. PRINCESS MELTDOWN #107 : “BUT TORU, I DON’T GET IT..”
11:57 am location: SC/MATH 3020 (Vari Hall, Room B)
you’re supposed to be solving laplace equations. instead, you’re sending satoru doodles of you pregnant with his child.
satoru gojo is jacques marie mage glasses & messy blanche hair & forearms thicker than his head. he should be studying—god, he should be, but his pretty girl is texting him mid-lecture & satoru’s something of a fool for you so he foolishly decides, who is he not to reply ?
and his replies are earnest. always earnest. too punctuated, too grammatically correct.
toruu : You’re the cutest girl in the world.
toruu : Pay attention, okay?
his first message makes your heart swelter & bloom. the second makes it drop to your ass.
but satoru gojo is honey mouthed & heart-achingly sweet. and when your boyfriend asks you to focus so sweetly, how could you not obey?
so you open your notebook & close it right back.
you : toru i tried :( i don’t get ittttrt
toruu : Send me the question.
and you do. along with a selfie of your cute pout, of course. satoru’s reply comes in in an instant:
toruu : Gorgeous girl.
toruu : Okay, try isolating the variable first.
you do as he says. satoru’s instructions always come easy-sweet. sugar coated & simplified like he’s talking to the softest girl in the world. & perhaps he is.
toruu : Good. Now distribute.
toruu : Yes. That’s it. Keep going.
toruu : That’s perfect, baby. My smart girl.
your cheeks grow mushy & sticky & heart-wrenchingly soft.
satoru gojo is going to be the death of you.
II. PRINCESS MELTDOWN #126 : LOVER BOYS DON’T IGNORE THEIR GIRLFRIENDS !
time : 1:48 pm. location: york lanes ( indoor mall )
“satoru hasn’t texted me in fifteen minutes.”
“they faces killing me why nobody give a fuck.”
you ignore shoko & her bitter response. you’d rather die than argue with a bitch & her bad bob. you lean to rest your head on suguru’s shoulder, who’s much more empathetic & strokes your hair lovingly.
“isn’t he tutoring right now?”
and he is. somewhere across campus, in a cramped corner of the scott library, gojo satoru is bleary-eyed & suffering.
he’s supposed to be explaining calculus to confused first year yuuji itadori. but his phone, face-up & gleam-screened on the mahogany table, hums and vibrates with desperation.
1 new message: princess 🧸💗 1 new message: princess 🧸💗 1 new message: princess 🧸💗
satoru’s jaw is tight. there’s crescent shaped crevices in his palms & his knuckles rouse rash red. his focus flickers. he catches a glimpse of your latest message: the preview of a selfie, that low adorable angle where you’re peering at your phone from under your lashes & your lips jut out in a ‘where are youuu’ pout.
fuck.
“uhh, gojo?” yuuji’s biting his pencil again before he points it at the vibrating device. “aren’t you gonna answer that..? i dunno, it looks important.”
it is important. it’s you. but if satoru answers now, poor yuuji’s paid tutoring session would immediately be over.
“it’s fine, yuuji. let’s focus on finding the derivative.”
and it is fine. because gojo satoru is a man of logic. a man of discipline. a man of pa—
princess 🧸💗: i always knew you’d get tired of me one day
princess 🧸💗: it’s okay. thank you for everything toru 👍
gojo satoru grabs the phone faster than you can say go pandas! his thumbs fly over the screen, ever precise, ever trembling.
toruu: Baby, please don’t say that.
toruu: I’m almost done. I’ll be with you in ten minutes. I’ll buy you that Drake meal you wanted.
toruu: I love you. Please wait for me?
back at the mall you’re reading his text. and god, your heart bubbles up like soda pop. “he’s coming,” you murmur into suguru’s shoulder, scrolling past his text without a reply.
“great!” shoko cheers with fake enthusiasm, taking a puff of her vape (suguru’s complaining that the pineapple & kiwi she blows make his poutine taste sour-ish, & she shouldn’t be vaping anyway, but guess what? shoko doesn’t care!)
“now can we stop acting like it’s the summer hikaru died?”
“no.”
instagram’s algorithm is always on your side. you’ve opened the reels tab to find a video of a rainy window, a quote captioned over it: ‘if he wanted to, he would. silence is a choice.’ simple. short. effective.
you add it to your story. suguru catches a glimpse of your screen & chuckles.
“y/n,” he sings your name, tutting. “you’re gonna give the boy a heart attack before he even hits the common area.”
“he deserves it.”
satoru gojo has already viewed your story. he shows up within the next five minutes.
III. PRINCESS MELTDOWN #167: BABY, I’M BORED.
time : 3:58 pm. location: science & engineering building
there’s solution bubbling pink in a flask. in lab four, the air’s sticky with the sweat of too many boys with glasses & a half-drunk energy drink rotting in the corner.
gojo satoru is huddled over a circuit board with two other boys who look like they haven’t seen sunlight in days.
nerd #1 points at the monitor : “if we adjust the frequency here,” he’s muttering, “the entire wave function collapses. it’s an impossible solve, gojo.”
“it’s not impossible. you’re just missing the constant.”
gojo satoru is the god of lab four; formulas on his fingers & equations on his tongue. he’s leaning over now, fingers on the screen when the heavy steel door swings open,
“hi, toru!”
you’re all soft perfume & clicky heels & smile as sweet as sugar. satoru’s head snaps up instantly—his glasses slip down his nose, & he flicks them back upward, eyes glimmering in the fluorescent light.
“hi sweetheart,” he breathes, “you’re here early.”
the other nerds are staring now, and for good reason. how did gojo satoru—who’s paperbacks & friday nights spent bent over research papers—pull a pretty thing like you ?
“are you doing science ?” you’re already across the room, arms around his neck as his palms press you flush against him from the side. your perfume’s sticky in his lungs. “why’s that line so squiggly? you guys should make it straight. it’d be much prettier.”
nerd #4 winces. “actually, that’s a representation of—“
“you’re right, baby. it would look prettier. have a seat, okay?”
you hum an okay! & plop yourself down on his lap. nerd number 3 & 2 exchange glances. nerd #1 asks, god, me when ?
the group discussion starts up again. satoru is half-science half-yours—his thumb traces circles on your thigh as your feet kick in his lap, & you’re asking one too many questions while satoru tries—tries to pay attention.
“toru, what does this button do?”
“that’s the power supply, baby. please don’t touch it.”
“but it’s glowing. can you make it glow pink ? i think it should glow pink.”
“noted. you’re squirming, princess.”
and you are. nerd #4 wonders how you’re still balanced. the discussion continues but you’re a constant background noise of ‘toru, look at this tiktok’, and ‘baby, i think the lighting’s washing me out.’ you try to touch a wire. gojo catches your hand mid-air & cups it with a kiss.
you flop against his chest. “satoru, i’m bored.”
& satoru is tired. exhausted, really. he’s fighting the rash creeping up his neck as nerds one to four watch you pout in his lap like a spoiled child. “i want matcha. can we go get some?”
you can’t. because this is a project due in twelve hours. because satoru has only so much time to lock in—
“alright, let’s go.”
nerd #3 is distraught: “huh—?! gojo, you can’t leave now, we’re in the middle of a breakthrough!”
satoru doesn’t even look around. he’s smoothing your skirt after you hop off his lap, your bag already slung over his shoulder. he’s leading you out by the hand; “sorry guys. i’ll send my solution to the group chat. brief me on the updates later?”
the door swings shut. nerds one to four are in awe.
streamer!jo mid-sentence, leaning back in his chair, headset slightly crooked, the soft click of the door barely registers over the sound of his stream when you walk in. he stops, just for a second. his eyes flick over you. your tight, soft pajamas, the way they hug you just right, the faint scent that follows you in. his whole expression shifts into something quieter.
“hey,” you hum softly, walking over like it’s nothing.
the chat explodes and he doesn’t even glance at it.
voidking99: BROOOOO WHO IS THAT
satorusimp420: HE GOT A GIRL??????
angelmilk: she’s so pretty what 😭
gojosleft_toe3: WHY IS SHE IN HIS LAP LIKE THAT IM SICK
“oh my fuck,” he says instantly, voice lower now, already reaching for you.
you don’t question it—you never do. you just step between his legs and sit in his lap like it’s your spot, because it is. his arms wrap around you immediately, pulling you close, one hand settling at your waist, the other resting along your thigh.
“you look so gooooood,” he murmurs, nuzzling lightly into your shoulder for a second before straightening again, like he just remembered he’s live.
his hand doesn’t move though. it drifts. slowly. absentmindedly. down your thigh, fingers brushing soft circles like he’s not even thinking about it. then back up, resting at your waist again.
the twitch chat is going insane.
you notice quickly
you’re already leaning forward slightly, eyes scanning the stream, curious. “what are they saying?”
“nothing important,” he mutters quickly, tightening his hold on you just a little.
too late.
you squint, reading out loud, confused, “I usually skip this part…?” your face still contempt, you tilt your head, genuinely puzzled. “what does that mean?” and then you shift. just a little. trying to get closer to the screen. but it makes you press back into him.
torus breath catches, just barely but enough.
you’re still focused on the chat, completely oblivious, squirming slightly again to get comfortable. “wait, there’s more—”
his arm tightens around your waist. not rough, just firm.
grounding.
his other hand stills on your thigh, fingers pressing in just a little like he’s trying to anchor himself. “hey,” he says suddenly, sharper now—directed at the screen.
the chat floods faster.
softgirlcult: she’s literally clueless this is insane
domainexpansionTHIS: “i usually skip this part” LMAOOOOOO
gojoswifeREAL: GIRL DONT READ THAT OUT LOUD
blueeyeaddickt: HE TENSED UP DID YALL SEE THAT
he exhales through his nose, jaw tightening slightly before he leans forward, voice dropping into something more commanding.
“alright, that’s enough,” he says, tone lazy. “don’t read that stuff,” he murmurs, voice softer now.
you blink, looking back at him. “I was just asking—”
“don’t worry about them,” he murmurs, softer now, eyes locked on yours. way too focused, way too intense. his arms tighten around you again, pulling you flush against him, chin resting lightly on your shoulder as he leans back into his chair.
chat? forgotten.
game? paused.
and satoru? completely, helplessly distracted by you.
megumislostdad: stream is over guys pack it up
sukunaIRL: move chat i’m watching this
KING.naoyazenin: embarrassing. stand up bro
LimitlessGojo banned KING.naoyazenin
Synopsis: frat boy!gojo, your boyfriend, got himself blocked on all of your socials. it was his fault, even he knows that - spamming your girl with dick pics whilst she's studying for an important exam was only ever going to end one way.
you've practically forced him to resort to a means of communication he didn't know still existed. and well, he's gonna have fun with it.
Warnings: some sexual content, 18+, cursing, college au, can be read as a standalone but is a part of my EdenU au, gojo is dramatic, reader is done with him, reader is goth and female, established relationship, not proofread
Dear most gorgeous girl in the world,
You’re killing me.
Please unblock me on iMessages, Insta, Snap, Facebook/Messenger, Whatsapp, X (sorry Twitter or whatever liberal agenda you’re on now), Discord, Reddit, Letterboxd, LinkedIn, Spotify, and Tumblr. How did you even know I was stalking you on Tumblr? Do you have a girlfriend sixth sense? Like does your clit tingle when you realise I’m near? Cause my balls speak to me when you’re within a mile radius, like “yeah, boys? you feel her? where? lead the way!”
If you gave me a chance, instead of instantly blocking me (heartless meanie), you’d know I am very, very apologetic. I’ll stop spamming you my dick pics, even though you should be honoured to receive reminders of how hard just the thought of your name makes me.
Love,
Your sad big-dicked daddy :(((
Dear Gojo Satoru,
Clearly you can’t take a hint. Let me spell it out for you.
I.
Am.
Busy.
Leave.
Me.
Alone.
Unhappily,
Your girlfriend
P.S. Do not call yourself ‘big-dicked daddy.’ It upsets me greatly.
From: [email protected]
Subject: keep being mean to me please im close
Dear adorable goth baby,
You’re so hot when you’re being mean. I already know you’re frowning in that cute way that makes me want to smother you in kisses and you’re rolling your eyes so hard NGH!
I already said I’m sorry.
Please give me another chance.
I’m so damn bored I started playing spin the bottle alone in my room. I made out with that picture of you sleeping with drool down your chin. Picture You was even getting handsy. ‘Down girl!’ I said. ‘Bad!’
Stay tight,
Toru (not Gojo Satoru, that’s like a slur coming from you, very triggering stuff)
P.S. I am your big-dicked daddy tho I’m confused?
Satoru,
I gave you multiple chances when I asked you to stop and give me at least 5 hours to study before we go out for dinner and I entertain you, you giant freaking child. But no, you just had to hound me with your dick, like I was supposed to be dickmatised and persuaded to drop everything at your beck and call.
Fuck, I’m getting mad all over again.
Stop emailing me. You’re gonna see me at 7pm for our date anyways. You can last 4 more hours.
Yours not for long,
Girl who just wants to pass
Sweetiepie :(
I’m sorry.
I thought it was gonna motivate you to work hard. Pwease forgive me. Pwease? Towu is vewy vewy sowwy.
In fact, I’m so so so sorry, I’ll pay for dinner tonight. Scout’s honour.
Asking for mercy and forgiveness,
Your boyfriend no matter what
From: [email protected]
Subject: dinner? that the best you can offer?
You always pay for dinner. Last time I offered, you damn near wrestled me in the middle of the restaurant so you could get your card out first. We’re still banned from there, remember?
Btw, you were never a Scout, don’t play with me.
Dear love of my life who doesn’t understand how email etiquette works,
Of course I always pay for dinner — you’re broke and your family is destitute, I remind you lovingly. But even if you were as rich as me, or even richer (which isn’t possible, not to flex), I would still pay every single time. It’s the least I can do for reparations for the violence committed by my gender against yours. Plus, that restaurant sucked anyway — the owner is problematic towards immigrants and the servers don’t even know if the meat is locally and ethically sourced, like hello??? In the big 2025?!?
How’s studying going?
Do you need a snack or a smoothie to boost you?
I can drop by. Promise I won’t linger. I just didn’t see a purchase on my card for breakfast or lunch. Please don’t starve. If I can’t watch your ass jiggle when I hit it from the back, I’m gonna be devastated.
Yours most sincerely,
Satoru
P.S. You have to be a Scout to say Scout’s Honour? Crazyyyyyy
Dear Satoru (happy now?),
Please don’t remind me of my family’s shortcomings. You know I like to pretend I came from a normal background. And stop being more woke than me. It’s hot.
Studying’s fine, I guess. I think I forgot how to study. I’ve missed a lot of content too. If a certain someone hadn’t been clinging to me so tightly every morning, maybe I wouldn’t be so behind. God, you make my life so hard.
A smoothie and pastry would be lovely, actually. I can’t be bothered leaving my room to get some food. Just drop it off outside and disappear by the time I open the door — if I see even a glimmer of white hair, I’m going to freak.
Thanks.
Love begrudgingly,
A girl who’s gonna fail her exam
Dear cutie,
I don’t cling to you that hard. You’re dramatic. I wonder where you got that from. And last I checked, we have a safeword you can use anytime to get me away from between your legs if you really wanted to get to class. But I like our game where you pretend you’re not just as obsessed with me as I am with you (I know you get all hot and bothered when I reference Marx, dirty girl)
Food’s outside babe. The line was stupid long and I ran into Fushiguro — remember the guy I told you has the highest body count on campus?
He’s in a relationship now and he’s so pussywhipped lmaoooo
Couldn’t be me.
Hoping you’ll stuff your face and get all the brain power you need,
Satoru
I told you to disappear before I could see you.
You didn’t have to kiss me and hump my leg you animal. My neighbours were NOT happy with the pornographic noises you made, asshole.
Yeah, I remember Toji. Cool dude. Always wearing gym wear no matter the weather and for some reason hates you. Don’t make fun of him for being loyal and loving to his girlfriend. You’re probably so much worse. I envy his girlfriend. She probably doesn’t have to put up with a yapper who spams her with dick pics.
Thank you for the food though. Very appreciated. What I didn’t appreciate, however, was the number and the smiley face on my drink. I already told you, if someone tries to hit on you, bark at them and tell them you have a girlfriend you worship endlessly.
Look:
Dear angry girlfriend I do in fact worship endlessly and beyond,
I’m sorry I didn’t follow your exact orders but I desperately needed a kiss from my girl. If I don’t get my daily dose, I wilt, like a rose. You know this.
And disrespectfully, f your neighbours. It wasn’t anything they hadn't heard from us before. Sensitive ears ahhh
About Fushiguro — he does not hate me. Why does everyone say that?
We’re actually besties. We’re like dumb and dumber, but dumber is him obvi. Plus, once he gets some shots in him, he’s super in love with me. I get more over the clothes action from him than from you lol
You never need to thank me for feeding you. I fear that’s like bare minimum. Get those standards up girl.
Oh and sorry about the drink. I didn’t even notice. Leave it outside your door and I’ll get you a new one. I’ll even make a scene and call the manager over. Maybe I’ll buy the store and get everyone fired. Just give me the word babe.
Yours forever,
Satoru
Dear my sweetest, most frustrating boyfriend,
Fine, I’ll forgive the kiss (I might have needed it too). And yeah, f my neighbours because the guy on my left loves playing Doctor Who Season 8 on repeat and on full volume every night like clockwork. It’s not even the best season!
Forget about the drink. Just don’t ever go back there again. Number and smiley face aside, the drink is abysmal and tastes like bog water. Pastry is great though. 10/10
You’d really make a scene for me?
Yours occasionally,
No longer starving girlfriend
Dear the Morticia to my Gomez,
I’d make a scene for you at the drop of a hat. I’d serenade you in malls, on campus, in a Michelin star restaurant, and in a lecture. Heck, I’d yell ‘BOMB’ in an airport if you asked me to – just maybe not an airport we frequent.
There’s quite literally nothing I wouldn’t do for you. If you didn’t know that already, then I’m not as great of a boyfriend as I thought I was. I will remedy that immediately, my goddess eternal.
Obsessedly yours,
Your husband in every way but legally (we can fix that)
Dear Toru,
Stop being sweet. It’s disgusting.
Come inside already. I’m done pretending I’m getting anything from the textbooks. I’m only giving myself a headache.
you wake to the weight of him already pressing into the mattress beside you, the heat of his body seeping through the thin sheet. the morning light filters through the blinds, casting pale stripes across the room, and satoru is propped on one elbow, watching you with those half-lidded eyes that make your stomach clench. he doesn't say anything for a long moment, just traces a lazy finger down your collarbone, over the curve of your breast, stopping to circle your nipple until it stiffens under his touch.
“morning,” your boyfriend murmurs, voice rough with sleep, and the word is a promise.
you shift, stretching into his hand, and he takes that as permission. the sheet falls away as he leans down, mouth replacing fingers, tongue flat against your nipple before he sucks it between his lips. a soft gasp escapes you, hand finding its way into his white hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp. he hums against your skin, the vibration traveling straight to your cunt, and you feel yourself already starting to slick up.
his free hand slides down your stomach, over your hip, fingers dipping between your legs. he doesn't rush, doesn't push, just traces the line of your slit through the damp fabric of your underwear, collecting the wetness that's already beading there. “fuck, you're soaked,” he breathes, pulling back just enough to look at you, that lazy grin spreading across his face. “been dreaming about me?”
you don't answer with words. you hook your leg over his hip, grinding your clothed cunt against his hand, and he takes the hint. his fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear, tugging them down your thighs, and you lift your hips to help. he tosses them somewhere off the bed, not caring where they land, and then his hand is back, naked this time, two fingers sliding through your folds, collecting your wetness before he presses them inside.
the stretch is sweet, familiar, and you buck into his hand as he curls his fingers, finding that spot that makes your vision blur. he watches your face, that grin never quite leaving his lips, but his eyes are dark, hungry. “that's it,” he coaxes, pumping his fingers in and out, thumb pressing against your clit in slow, deliberate circles. “let me hear you.”
you're already breathless, hips moving in time with his hand, and when he adds a third finger, the pressure makes you gasp. he's not rushing, taking his time, working you open at a pace that's almost cruel. you can feel yourself clenching around his fingers, your body begging for more, and he knows it. he knows exactly what you need, and he's going to make you wait.
“satoru,” you whine, and the sound comes out broken, desperate.
“yeah?” he leans down, lips brushing your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “want my cock, don't you?”
“yes,” you gasp, and he pulls his fingers out slowly, deliberately, dragging them through your wetness one last time before he brings them to his own lips. he curls his tongue around them, tasting you, and the sight makes your cunt clench around nothing.
“god, you taste good,” he mutters, and then he's shifting, kneeling between your legs, his cock already hard and leaking against his stomach. he doesn't bother with his boxers, just pushes them down enough to free himself, and the first sight of him in the morning light makes your mouth water. he's thick, flushed, the head slick with pre-cum, and the way he strokes himself once, twice, before lining up with your entrance is almost too much.
he doesn't push in right away. he just rests the head against your soaked folds, sliding it through your wetness, teasing you both. your hips lift, trying to take him, but he holds still, that grin turning wolfish. “what's the hurry? we've got all morning.”
“i need you,” you say, and it's not an exaggeration. your whole body is aching for him, your cunt clenching on air, your nipples hard and sensitive against the cool air. you reach down, wrapping your fingers around his shaft, guiding him to where you need him most, and he finally gives in.
satoru pushes in slow, inch by inch, and the stretch is everything. your walls part around him, welcoming him, and the feeling of being filled so completely makes you moan. he doesn't stop until his hips are flush against yours, his balls pressing against your ass, and he stays there, letting you adjust, letting you feel every inch of him buried inside you.
“fuck, you're tight,” he breathes, forehead dropping to yours. “always so tight for me.”
you wrap your legs around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back, and that's all the encouragement he needs. he pulls out almost all the way, just the tip still inside, and then snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. the sound that escapes you is part moan, part scream, and he does it again, and again, building a rhythm that has the bed creaking beneath you.
the morning air fills with the sounds of your bodies meeting—wet, obscene, perfect. each thrust hits deep, the head of his cock pressing against that sensitive spot inside you, and you can feel your orgasm building already, coiling low in your belly. he's not holding back now, his pace quickening, his breath coming in ragged pants against your ear.
“look at me,” he commands, and you do, meeting those blue eyes that are almost black with lust. “i want to see your face when you come.”
his hand finds your clit, thumb pressing down in tight circles, and that's all it takes. the orgasm crashes over you, sudden and overwhelming, your back arching off the mattress, a cry tearing from your throat. your walls clench around him, milking his cock, and he groans, fucking you through it, not slowing down for a second.
“fuck, that's it,” he growls, and you can feel him thickening inside you, feel the twitch that means he's close. “gonna fill you up. gonna pump you so full.”
you're still trembling from the aftershocks when he buries himself one last time, hips stuttering, a guttural moan escaping his lips as he comes. you feel it—hot, wet, pouring into you, filling you in a way that makes your oversensitive cunt clench again. he rides it out, grinding against you, making sure every drop is buried deep.
when he finally stills, his weight settles on top of you, his cock still twitching inside you. he kisses your neck, your jaw, finally your mouth, and the kiss is lazy, spent, tasting of salt and morning breath.
“good morning,” he mumbles against your lips, and you laugh, the sound weak and breathless.
but he's not done. you feel him stirring inside you again, already half-hard, and he pulls back just enough to look at you with that familiar, wicked grin. “round two?”
before you can answer, he's moving, shifting his weight, rolling you onto your stomach. your knees find the mattress without prompting, your body already remembering this position from countless other mornings. he settles behind you, his chest pressing against your back, one hand bracing on the bed beside your head while the other guides his cock back to your slick, well-fucked cunt.
he pushes in with one smooth motion, and the angle is different, deeper, hitting a spot that makes your fingers curl into the sheets. he starts slow at first, drawing out each thrust, letting you feel every inch of him dragging along your walls. the wet sounds come back, mixed with your choked moans and his low curses.
“you take me so fucking well,” he grunts, one hand moving from the bed to grip your hip, fingers digging into the flesh hard enough to leave bruises. “you love feeling my cock in you, don't you?”
“yes,” you gasp, pushing back against him, meeting his thrusts.
he reaches around, hand sliding down your belly, fingers finding your clit again. you're already so sensitive from the first orgasm that the touch makes you gasp, but he doesn't relent, rubbing you in tight circles as he fucks into you. the pleasure is almost too much, bordering on pain, and it only makes you wetter.
his pace quickens, his breathing growing ragged. the headboard starts knocking against the wall with each thrust, and he doesn't care. you can't care, either—all that exists is the feeling of him inside you, his hand on your clit, his breath hot on your neck.
“gonna come again,” he says, his voice strained. “gonna come inside you and you're gonna take it all.”
“i will,” you manage, and the words are your undoing. his hips slam against yours, once, twice, and then he's shuddering behind you, a low moan torn from his throat as he spills into you again. the feeling of his cock pulsing inside you, the heat of his cum filling you, tips you over the edge, your own orgasm washing through you in waves, your cunt milking him dry.
he collapses over you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his lips trailing lazy kisses along your spine. you're both panting, slick with sweat, the room smelling of sex and morning light.
after a long moment, he pulls out slow, and you feel the rush of his cum leaking out of you, dripping down your thighs. he watches, his hand coming down to push some of it back inside, his fingers gentle but deliberate.
“stay,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “let it soak in.”
you laugh, the sound soft and content, and roll onto your back to face him. he looks debauched, his hair a mess, his lips swollen, his chest flushed. he's beautiful in a way that makes your heart ache.
satoru grins, sliding back up to capture your mouth in a slow, deep kiss. his hand traces down your side, resting on your hip, thumb stroking the damp skin. “breakfast,” he says against your lips, “or another round?”
your legs are shaking, your cunt sore and full of his cum, and the thought of another round sends a shiver through you. but you can feel his cock against your thigh, already stirring again, and you know your answer before you speak.
“another round,” you whisper, pulling him down to you.
he laughs, the sound muffled against your mouth, and this time when he enters you, it's slow, gentle, a different kind of claiming. the morning stretches out before you, and neither of you is in any hurry to let it end.
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.
