“PAUSING IN THE 🐱 IS RUNNING 😂🤷🏽♀️”
+18 MDI. WARNINGS. baddie!reader x boyfriend!gojo, background college/university, established relationship, spendin’ the night vibes, boo loving, KIDS SEE GHOSTS gets a feature, unprotected sex, edging, rough sex, salty & sweet. W.C 2K
a.n: okay but facts tho??? anyways, I saw this tweet earlier today and instantly got inspired. so here’s a little 2K porn w/ side of plot. It’s nothing too serious, just vibes and good sex.
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You’re halfway through highlighting another mind-numbing textbook chapter on your iPad when it pings with an iMessage notification sliding down the screen:
I’m boutta pull up soon.
No question mark. No “you busy tonight?” Just a straight up announcement that he’s OTW, as if you have nothing else better to do on this fine Tuesday evening.
You switch over to your phone, pull the message up, and stare at the screen for a beat— thumb hovering over. You should tell him no. Remind him about your exam coming up later this week, and that this was supposed to be one of your sacred, uninterrupted study nights that you were pushing yourself all last week to sit down and get through. But the irritation twisting in your chest tangles up with that little flutter in your stomach you hate admitting is excitement. Because if he’s already “boutta pull up”, that means you’ve got maybe thirty minutes to take a quick everything shower and slip into something that’ll make the miles put on his engine worth the ride over.
By the time his black coupe eases up to the curb, you’re rushing down the steps, heart racing with every tick of the countdown waiting for his “outside” text.
You open the front door just in time to see him coming up the porch steps. He’s got on nothing fancy but a slim-fit stretched over his shoulders and grey sweats hanging low enough to almost make you forget every PSY 425 vocab term you reviewed tonight.
“You didn’t even ask.” You say instead of hi, stepping back to let him in after pulling you into a tight hug.
He shrugs, like asking never crossed his mind. “Would’ve said yes anyway.”
You roll your eyes, turning towards the stairs. “Come on. Try to be quiet though— Utahime and Shoko are in their rooms. I’m not tryna hear their mouths later.”
“You know I’m not worried about them.” His voice drops to a low whisper as the stairs creak beneath your steps. His presence presses warm and solid right behind you, and just when you hit the landing, his hand slides up the underside of your thigh, giving it a quick squeeze. You shoot him a look over your shoulder— half annoyed, half amused.
“What?” He asks, all fake innocent.
“I’m serious.”
“Alright.” He says, but there’s a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, like he’s already planning to risk breaking that promise just to see your face balled up.
The rest of the apartment's dark, except for the soft glow spilling from your bedroom down the hall. Inside, the air is thick with the soft vanilla-cashmere scent from a candle burning in the corner of your room, musics playing low on your TV— something slow and bass-heavy that he immediately clocks with a raised brow.
“Kids See Ghosts?” He asks, shutting the door behind him and slipping off his sneakers to kick to the side.
You pick up on the lyrics— some track called Cudi Montage— pushing your sheets back to grab the remote.
“I just put anything on, wasn’t really listening.”
“It’s cool, you can leave it.” He steps to the edge of your bed, shuffling under the blankets. “What, you doing homework?” He asks, lifting your iPad to set it on the nightstand.
“Yeah, I was—” You tut, like the folder full of old course handouts on your bed isn’t obvious enough. “And I’m not finished either, so you’re gonna have to give me a couple minutes. I’m almost done, I was studying.”
“Where’s the pencil?” You ask, reaching for your iPad, ready to dive back into work.
For a split second he fishes around under the sheets like it’s a treasure hunt. “Right here.” He says, sliding the pencil across the bed to you.
You take it, eyes flicking to him as he shifts further under the comforter, sinking into your pillows with that ‘I’m-not-going-anywhere’ air around him.
“I just got five more pages.” You remind yourself, biting back a smile. “And then you got my attention for the rest of the night.”
“Do your thing.” He lets out a slow, lazy yawn, shifting onto his side to pull you close, his arms slide around your waist like he’s already halfway to sleep— but his eyes are wide open, watching you with that damn smirk that makes your heart skip. Focusing feels impossible now, but you blink it out, determined to finish up.
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You really did try to keep your head down. Apple pencil damn near dying, with your iPad screen split between the GoodNotes page you been jotting notes on and your classes online textbook, highlighted in rainbow colors like some flag of productivity.
He’d said he didn’t mind—
“Act like I’m not here, keep working.”
“I just came to chill with you.”
— and you believed him. Thought this time around you could handle him being next to you, quiet.
Except Satoru is never really quiet. Not when his legs are intertwining with yours under the blanket. Not when his hands are rubbing down your thighs like he’s looking for warmth. Not when you can feel his stare on you, even when your eyes stay glued to the screen.
“You’re doing it again.” You murmur without looking up.
“Doing what?” He sits up, voice low enough that his breath ghosts over your neck.
“That thing where you pretend you’re not distracting me.”
“I’m not pretending.” His hand drags slow inbetween your thighs, fingers squeezing just enough to make your ApplePencil slip on the page. “I’m just here. You’re the one distracted.”
“Don’t piss me off…”
“Ain’t nobody pissing you off.” He says back, smug. He knows. You don’t even know why you still try.
One touch turns into another. Your iPad gets nudged aside. Then he kisses up your neck from your collar bone slowly like he’s testing you— like he’s giving you an easy out— and then to side of your jaw, wet, when you don’t pull away.
It’s how you end up here. Arched over your bed with your cheek against the sheets, his hands gripping your hips. The slow grind of him pushing in, stretching you open, stealing your breath before you can even think about finding it again.
He’s already too deep, too much, but he’s still holding you like he’s got all night. And then he stops— hips pressed tight against your ass, still buried to the hilt.
You shift, about to ask why, but he’s leaning over you, chest against your back, lips brushing the top of your spine. “Hold on.” He warns, voice rougher than before. “Just… give me a second. Hold on.”
“Oh my god.” You can’t help the little laugh. “What, you tired already?”
A low sound rumbles against your back. “Don’t start. He mutters, voice deep but shaky in a way you catch instantly. “I’m not tryna nut just yet…”
“You running?”
“I’m not—” He cuts himself off, sucking his teeth like you’re the one being a fool. His hips give one slow rock, so deep your eyes roll before you can push the joke further. “Not running.”
The distraction almost works— until you feel him shift, head dipping to press a kiss between your shoulder blades. Then another, right along your spine, each one slow enough you feel the shape of his mouth. His hand smooths down your side, holding you there like you might try and wriggle away if he doesn’t.
He’s not fucking you, not really. Just rocking deep, keeping himself seated so far inside you that every breath feels weighted. You can feel him throbbing— every twitch, every little fight he’s losing against himself.
You exhale through a laugh you can’t hold in, clenching down around him. “Mm… sounds like running to me. Pausing in the kitty means you’re running.”
His reply is only but a low hum, one that vibrates against your skin. “Sounds like I’m lettin’ you breathe.” He drags his mouth lower, teeth grazing lightly at your waist before pulling back to kiss it. “You wanna talk or you wanna cum?”
The slow roll of his hips makes you arch, hands clutching at the sheets. “Can’t cum if you’re not gonna move.”
“I’m tryna get you there.” His voice is warm and smug now, even as his breathing gives away how close he still is. Another long, deliberate grind has you clenching around him again, and he groans— low, like it’s pulled out of him. “Do that again.”
“I thought you ain’t wanna nut?” You clench down again, circling your hips as you rock back against him. He’s rock hard now, and as much as you don’t want this to end, you do still really want to finish cracking you down so you can finally call it night.
“Toru~” You whine, feet kicking up against his backside to nudge him along. Then a rough hand slaps your ass and your pussy clenches involuntarily. You hate when he does this shit. You’re ovulating, you know he doesn’t want to risk it. But all he had to do was remember to bring enough condoms with him and y’all could have been getting it on up to round three.
“Stop it.” He warns. Hands tightening around your waist, nails digging in just a little to remind you he’s got you where he wants you. Then his other hand slides lower, trailing down your body until they brush over your pussy, fingers slicking up wet.
Your breath hitches when he slips a thumb slow and wet between your cheeks, dragging it up until it presses against your asshole, just barely teasing it. Heat starts to pull deep in your belly and your pussy clenches again, needy and aching. He watches your reaction, lips curling like he’s got the best secret.
“You like that?” He murmurs, thumb pressing firmer, slick sliding over the tight muscle as you press back without shame.
“Fuck.” You breathe, voice catching on the word. “You’re so fucking nasty, I swear.”
“You don’t know nasty yet.” He hums, hips rocking slow and controlled, that makes you shudder.
“Hold still. Don’t make me lose it.”
Your world narrows to the slick slide of his thumb, the stretch inside you, and the fire building with every second. You clench, pulse, moan low, and finally— finally— he moves again.
His hips snap forward hard, setting a brutal pace that has you gasping, fists clenching into the sheets to stop you from riding up the bed. Every thrust hits that sweet spot, making your walls squeeze him tighter.
“Yeah?” He pants, voice rough as fuck in your ear. “How that feel?”
“Good.” You whine, barely able to get the words out, chest rising and falling, sweat all over your skin. “‘So fucking good…”
“What else?” He grabs your hips with both hands, thumbs digging into your back as he fucks you like he’s trying to prove a point. His mouth finds the curve of your neck again, biting, kissing, marking. Fucking you harder and deeper, chasing the edge he was holding back.
“Talk to me.” He rasps, breath hot against your ear. “Say my name.”
You do. Breathless, desperate. “Toru.”
His fingers squeeze your hips, thumb brushing over your skin, pulling you closer with a deep, rough thrust that makes your whole body shake.
“Say it again.”
“Toru.” You gasp, nails raking the sheets as he drags you back on every hard stroke.
“Keep talking.”
Your pussy clenches around him and his hand slides down, fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight circles in time with his thrusts. Your breath hitches, throat tight, body ready to explode.
“Don’t stop.” You cry out, voice shaking. “Fuck, don’t stop— Toru!”
His hips snap faster, every thrust harder, until you’re shaking, breath breaking into sharp little gasps you can’t hold back anymore.
“Shit” You cry out, sheets bunching in your fists. “More. Toru— don’t—”
And then it hits. Heat floods every nerve as you come undone, clenching tight around him. He groans loud enough that you can feel it through our spine, his own rhythm faltering, hips grinding deep like he’s trying to carve his name inside you. He pulls out just in time, cursing under his breath as he spills across your stomach, messy and hot, his hand still working your clit through every aftershock until you’re whimpering and trying to wriggle away.
Silence stretches, broken only by both of you panting hard. Your body feels heavy, melted into the sheets, and he collapses right beside you like gravity finally got to him too. For a second, all you can do is stare at the ceiling and listen to his breathing, equally ragged and shaky— before his arm slides across your waist, tugging you in like.
You turn your head, eyes meeting his in the soft glow of your candle, and he looks no more fucked up than you. Hair sticking to his forehead, chest rising and falling fast, but still with that smug little curl to his lips that makes your stomach tingle.
“I wasn’t running.” He says finally, voice low and hoarse, like it costs him to even speak.
You snort, breathless. “You’re still on that?”
“‘Cause you tried me.” He shoots back, dragging his finger down your thigh in lazy strokes. “Had to prove a point.”
“Mhm.” You hum, cheek pressing against his shoulder, pretending not to care when his hand settles warm and heavy on your hip. “Guess I’ll let you have it.”
He laughs low in his chest, sound curling over your skin before his mouth does. A slow kiss lands on your jaw, then another, higher, warm. By the third, right under your ear, you’re biting back a grin and forgetting all about the pages you swore you’d finish tonight.
fin.
