it had started innocently enough—or as innocent as anything ever was with him. one lazy sunday morning, when you were still half-asleep and riding him slow, he had grabbed his phone from the nightstand with that mischievous grin and whispered, “just one video, baby. for my eyes only. i wanna watch how pretty you look when you come on my cock.”
you had said yes.
now it had become a ritual.
every time he fucked you, the phone came out. sometimes he set it up on the tripod in the corner of the bedroom so it captured everything in a wide angle. sometimes he held it himself, filming close-ups of his thick cock stretching you open, the way your body moved with every thrust, the slick mess coating his shaft when he pulled out just to push back in deeper.
he loved the sounds most of all.
“listen to that,” he would groan, angling the camera down between your bodies so the microphone caught the wet, filthy squelch every time he bottomed out. “hear how sloppy your pussy gets for me? fuck, baby, you’re dripping down my balls.”
he always made sure to get your face too—the way your eyes rolled back, the way your mouth fell open when he hit that spot inside you, the broken moans and whimpers of his name that spilled out when you were close.
“say it louder,” he would demand, voice rough as he fucked you harder, his free hand gripping your thigh to spread you wider for the camera. “tell the camera who’s making you feel this good. who owns this tight little cunt.”
you always gave in. “you do, satoru—fuck—only you—”
he saved every single video.
they were stored in a heavily encrypted folder on his phone titled “private collection ❤︎,” with a little heart emoji he thought was subtle. there were dozens now. some were short clips of you sucking him off in the back of the car after a mission. some were long, hour-long tapes where he edged you for ages before finally letting you come. there was even one from the time he fucked you against the floor-to-ceiling window in his penthouse while the city lights glittered behind you.
he watched them when you were away.
when you were on a solo mission, or visiting family, or just busy with work that kept you late, he would lock himself in his bedroom, pull up the folder, and pick one at random. sometimes it was the one where you were riding him reverse cowgirl, your body moving as you took every inch. sometimes it was the one where he had you folded in half, legs over his shoulders, pounding you so deep the camera caught the bulge in your lower belly.
he stroked himself slow at first, matching the rhythm on the screen, groaning your name under his breath. “fuck, look at you… taking me so well even when i’m not there.”
his hand sped up as the video got filthier. he loved the parts where you begged—when you were crying and whimpering “please, satoru, fill me up, i need your cum.” he always came hard to those, thick ropes spilling over his fist while he watched himself on the screen.
after he finished, he didn’t delete anything. he just wiped his hand off and sent you a quick text:
toru: miss you. watched our video from last thursday. you looked so pretty crying on my cock. can’t wait to make a new one when you get home.
you always replied with something flustered and needy, and he grinned like an idiot, already planning the next tape.
sometimes he got bold.
he would send you short clips while you were at work—a ten-second snippet of him thrusting into you from behind, his hand fisting your hair, the sound of skin slapping skin loud and clear. the message always came with the same caption:
toru: thinking about you. hurry home so we can film the sequel.
he never pressured you to let him post them or share them. those videos were strictly for him—his private collection, his dirty little secret. he watched them when he was stressed after a long day, when he was horny and you weren’t around, when he just wanted to relive how perfect you felt wrapped around him.
and every time he filmed a new one, he made sure to whisper against your lips right before he started recording:
“smile for the camera, baby. gonna watch this one later when i’m all alone and missing this tight pussy.”
then he fucked you like he was trying to make sure the next video was even better than the last.
because gojo satoru didn’t just love fucking you.
he loved keeping every single moment of it forever.
so he could watch you fall apart for him again and again.
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
✮⋆˙. (▀▀̮▀) The strongest teaches you how to squirt . . .
You wanted to learn how to squirt.
Like, you really wanted to learn.
Being all over Twitter didn't help you either, as there's always somebody asking, oh, “ how do you squirt?” Or, “guys, I just learned how to squirt for the first time and I've never felt so much better.” And you just can't help but get FOMO.
Okay yeah sure, every time Gojo fucks you really good, it feels amazing, but something's missing.
He's already done everything in the book with you, with a few concepts here and there untouched, but you always end up satisfied, so you never dwelled on it.
You just really, really wanted to try feeling something new.
You already tried to do it yourself countless times, but your fingers could never reach the spots that he does, especially since his are significantly longer than yours.
So when he's currently fucking you and training your pussy to be more sensitive, it seems you finally get the hang of it.
“Mngh— fuck toru that…feels s’good..”
Gojo's long fingers curl deep inside your soaked pussy, his thumb pressing and pushing hard against your swollen clit with constant pressure.
He watched your face intently, bright blue eyes focusing on your pretty face as your walls flutter around his digits.
"Thaaat's it, baby," he murmurs, voice low and rough against your ear.
"You said you wanted to learn, yeah?"
His pace kept quickening as both fingers pumped into you steady, scissoring slightly on each thrust to stretch you open while his palm slaps wetly against your mound.
Your hips buck up off the bed, chasing the overwhelming sensation slowly building low in your belly.
Every stroke drags against that sensitive spot inside you, sending heatwaves through your body.
Gojo moves down, sucking one of your nipples right into his mouth. He bites down just hard enough to make you whine out, before soothing the sting with his tongue.
His free hand pins your thigh wider, keeping you spread for him as he works through your pussy harder.
Your breath comes out in short gasps when the pressure inside you grows almost unbearable, feeling like a tight coil getting tighter and tighter before releasing itself.
Your pussy clenches eagerly around his fingers as finally, a sudden rush of clear liquid sprays out all around them, soaking his hand and his wrist, along with the sheets beneath you in a hot, messy gush.
Gojo smiles and groans at the sight, fingering you through it with quick movements, so that the squirt keeps coming in short bursts.
"Fuuck, look at that," he growls, eyes locked on the way your cunt pulses and sprays. "So pretty when you let loose like that."
Your thighs tremble, clit becoming achingly sensitive.
You gripped the sheets and looked down at the mess, “hah…oh my god…what a mess..”
Another wave hits as he keeps rubbing your clit in tight circles, drawing out every last tremor and whine until you're left twitching, the new bedsheets already soiled under you.
He finally slows his hand down, but doesn't pull out, carefully stroking your inner walls as the aftershocks roll through you.
"Atta girl," he praises, voice coated with satisfaction.
𝒮atoru begging for a little cockwarming, claiming it’s the only thing that'll help him drift off to sleep…
1.2k words, quick read 𝑓𝑡. byf!toru ( +18 )
Satoru tossed and turned for the fifteenth time in ten minutes. The mattress groaned under him, and honestly, so did you.
"If you don't anchor your ass down in the next two seconds, I’m sleeping on the couch," you muttered into your pillow, your voice thick with sleep and irritated as hell. Your acrylics clicked against your phone screen as you checked the time. 3:42 AM. Fantastic.
Satoru flopped onto his back, sighing like he’d just run a marathon instead of just lying in a climate-controlled room. He rolled over, propping his chin on your shoulder, his hair poking you right in the cheek.
"I can't sleep, babe. It’s a medical emergency at this point," he whined, his voice doing that annoying, high-pitched drag he used whenever he wanted something. "My brain is literally frying. You gotta help me out."
"Go count sheep or something, Satoru. Or better yet, go do some push-ups in the living room till you pass out." You shoved his face away, but he just slid right back, wrapping a heavy arm around your waist and pulling you against him.
"Sheep are boring. Plus, I have a way better solution," he said, a slow, cocky grin spreading across his face even in the dark. He gave your hip a suggestive nudge, flipping effortlessly onto his back and dragging you right along with him until you were sprawled over his chest. "Come on. Just a quick cockwarm. Just climb up and park it so I can drift off. You don't even have to do any work. Just lay on me and look pretty."
You let out a long, exhausted groan, staring down at his stupidly handsome face. "Are you for real right now? It is almost four in the morning and you’re tryna use me like a heated blanket?"
"I mean, you are warm," he teased, his hands sliding down to grip your hips, guiding you up his torso. "And you love me. And I’ll literally buy you those shoes you were barking at on Instagram earlier. The ugly ones with the spikes."
"They are not ugly, they're archive fashion, you uncultured brain," you snapped, though your defense lacked any real venom because, honestly, the shoes were expensive. You sighed, rolling your eyes. "Fine. Whatever. But if you start doing too much and wake me up completely, I’m biting you."
"Deal. You’re the best, seriously, a literal angel," Satoru cheered, already shifting beneath you and tugging his sweatpants down with zero shame.
He didn't waste any time. His hands stayed firmly on your hips, helping you lift yourself just enough to line things up before his fingers hooked into the fabric of your panties, pushing the lace firmly to the side so he could slide smoothly inside you. The sudden fullness made you catch your breath for a second, your hands coming down to rest on his broad chest for balance. You slumped forward, letting your forehead rest right against his shoulder.
"Uuugh, fuck," Satoru muttered, his arms immediately wrapping around your back, locking you against him. He let out a long, shaky breath, all that restless energy he’d been carrying for the last hour suddenly evaporating the second you completely enclosed him. He didn't move, didn't try to lift his hips, he just stayed perfectly still, letting out a deep, contented sigh that vibrated right through your chest. "See? Perfect. I'm already curing my insomnia."
"Mmm.. wrap it up," you mumbled, adjusting your legs so you were comfortably straddling his thighs, completely deadweight on top of him. Your nails lightly scratched at the skin of his chest, mostly just out of habit to keep him settled. "If you start twitching or doing that weird leg-shake thing you do when you dream, I’m getting off."
"I don't twitch," he mumbled, his voice already dropping an octave, thick with growing drowsiness. He tightened his hold around your waist, burying his face in your hair, his breathing already starting to slow down. One of his hands moved in a lazy, comforting circle on your lower back. "You're soft."
"I know that," you replied, closing your eyes and finally feeling the pull of sleep yourself now that he was anchored and quiet. "Don't forget the shoes."
"Mmm. Spiky shoes. Got it," he slurred.
Within five minutes, his breathing completely evened out, turning into heavy, rhythmic thuds beneath you. He was completely dead to the world, holding you secure against him while he snored softly into your neck. You gave a small, half-annoyed huff, melting completely into his chest, and finally fell asleep with his cock buried inside you.
᭡ kali’s notes ⸻ I’ve been thinking about writing about cockwarming for a while now… I’m just experimenting tbh guys, but yeah hope y’all enjoyed it ?? mwahh !
♡ summary: the alarm goes off at 6:47 a.m. satoru decides that’s everyone else’s problem.
♡ warnings: 18+ mdni • explicit sexual content • established relationship • oral (f!receiving) • multiple orgasms • piv sex • praise • possessive language • dirty talk • creampie • overstimulation • fluff • smut
♡ author’s note: apparently i wasn’t done writing clingy boyfriend gojo 😭 this technically takes place the morning after comfortable, but it can absolutely be read on its own. i hope y’all enjoy ♡
banner by @pixopix art by @naomiiocha
The alarm goes off at 6:47 AM.
You groan, reaching blindly toward the nightstand, but before your fingers even get close, Satoru's arm locks around your waist like a vice.
"No," he mumbles into your neck.
"Satoru—"
"Nope. Not happening."
You try to wiggle free. His grip tightens, and suddenly you're being pulled back against his chest, his other arm coming up to trap you completely.
"I have to go to work—"
"Call in sick."
"I can't just—"
"Yes, you can." He's kissing your shoulder now, your neck, the spot behind your ear that makes you shiver. "Tell them you've got a fever. Tell them you're dying. Tell them Satoru Gojo is holding you hostage and won't let you leave."
"That last one is accurate."
"See? Honesty is important."
You laugh despite yourself, and he takes advantage of your momentary distraction to roll you onto your back, settling his weight on top of you. His hair is a disaster, sticking up in about fifteen different directions, and there are pillow creases on his cheek.
He looks perfect.
"Satoru, seriously—"
"Seriously," he interrupts, kissing your collarbone, "you should call in sick."
"And what about you? Don't you have to teach?"
He lifts his head, and the grin he gives you is absolutely insufferable.
"Baby," he says, "I'm Satoru Gojo."
"…So?"
"So I don't have to do anything I don't want to do."
You stare at him. "That's not how jobs work."
"It's how my job works."
"You're the worst."
"And yet." He kisses your jaw. "You love me anyway."
"Debatable right now."
"Liar." He's moving lower, kissing down your throat, your chest. "You're obsessed with me. Admit it."
"I'm not admitting anything until you let me turn off that alarm."
"Fine." He reaches over without looking, fumbling for your phone, and somehow manages to silence it. "There. Problem solved. Now stay in bed with me."
"Satoru—"
"Please?" He's looking up at you now, and his eyes are doing that thing—that stupid, unfair thing where they go all soft and earnest. "I just wanna spend the morning with you. Is that so bad?"
You sigh. "You're impossible."
"Is that a yes?"
"…I'll text my boss."
"Yes." He pumps his fist in victory, and you can't help but laugh.
"You're such a child."
"Your child," he corrects. "Besides, I already texted Yaga that I'm not coming in."
"You what?"
"Told him I had a personal emergency." He's grinning now, completely shameless. "Very serious. Life-threatening, even."
"Satoru—"
"What? It's true. If I don't spend the morning worshipping my girlfriend, I might actually die. Medical fact."
"That's not a medical fact."
"It is now." He's kissing your neck again, and his hands are sliding up your sides. "Besides, those first-years can handle basic curse theory without me for one day. And if they can't, I'll just teleport one of them into the Pacific Ocean next week. Builds character."
You snort. "You're not going to teleport a student into the ocean."
"You're right. Too much paperwork." He grins against your skin. "I'll just make them run laps until they puke. Much simpler."
"You're terrible." You swat at his shoulder, but you're laughing.
"And you love me." His hands are still on your waist, thumbs stroking your sides through your shirt. "Now text your boss so I can have you all to myself."
You grab your phone, squinting at the screen. "What am I even supposed to say?"
"Tell them you're sick."
"I'm not sick."
"You're lovesick. Counts."
You snort. "That's the worst thing you've ever said."
"Objectively untrue. Remember when I told Megumi that—"
"I'm texting." You type out a quick message about not feeling well, and the second you hit send, you try to roll away to put your phone back on the nightstand.
Satoru's arms lock around you immediately.
"Nope."
"I'm just putting my phone down—"
"Don't care. You're staying right here." He pulls you back against his chest, burying his face in your neck. "Mine now."
"Satoru—"
"Shh. Cuddling."
You laugh despite yourself, settling back against him. His arms are wrapped around you completely, one hand splayed across your stomach, the other coming up to play with your hair.
"You're being clingy."
"Mm-hmm." He's not even denying it. His fingers are running through your hair slowly, and you can feel him breathing against your neck. "Problem?"
"No," you admit. "Just… pointing it out."
"Good." He kisses your shoulder. "Because I'm not letting go."
You just lie there together for a little while. His hand keeps moving through your hair, occasionally trailing down to trace your jaw, your collarbone. It's comfortable. Warm. You're already half asleep again when he moves slightly behind you.
"Baby?"
"Mm?"
"Can you roll over? Wanna see your face."
You turn in his arms, and immediately his hand comes up to cup your cheek. His thumb strokes your cheekbone, and he's looking at you with that soft expression that makes your heart do stupid things.
"Hi, baby.” he says.
"Hi weirdo.”
"You're so pretty in the morning."
"I haven't even washed my face."
"Don't care." He leans in, kissing you softly. "Still pretty."
You kiss him back, slow and lazy, and his hand slides from your cheek to the back of your neck, holding you close. It's not urgent, it’s just sweet and affectionate. His other hand is on your hip, his thumb rubbing small circles through your shirt.
When he pulls back, he's smiling. "Love you."
"Love you too."
"Say it again."
"I love you, you absolute menace."
He grins. "Perfect." Then he's kissing you again, a little deeper this time, and you feel his hand slide up your side.
"Satoru—"
"What?" He's kissing your jaw now, your neck. "I'm just kissing you."
"Your hand is—"
"Also just existing." But his thumb is brushing the underside of your breast now, and you can feel him smiling against your neck.
"You're ridiculous."
"You love it."
"Debatable."
He pulls back to look at you, and there's something almost vulnerable in his expression. "Stay in bed with me? Please?"
"We already texted work—"
"I know, but—" He's playing with the hem of your shirt now, fingers slipping just barely underneath to touch your skin. "I just… I really want you right now. Like, really want you."
"I can tell."
"Can you?" He presses his hips forward slightly, and yeah. You can definitely tell. "Because I'm trying to be patient, but you're making it very difficult."
"I'm not doing anything."
"You're existing. That's enough." He's kissing your collarbone now, and his hand slides higher under your shirt. "You're so soft. How are you so soft?"
"Satoru—"
"And you smell good. Why do you smell so good?" He's practically whining now. "It's not fair."
You can't help but laugh. "Are you seriously complaining about me smelling good?"
"Yes. It's distracting." He bites down gently on your shoulder. "Everything about you is distracting. It's a problem."
"Sounds like a you problem."
"It is a me problem." He lifts his head to look at you, and his hair is even more disheveled than before. "I'm obsessed with you. It's embarrassing."
"Is it?"
"Little bit, yeah." He grins, his thumb brushing your side. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous this is?"
"What?"
"You bring the Satoru Gojo down to his knees."
You blink up at him. “…That's an incredibly narcissistic way to phrase that."
"It is." He nods solemnly. "Also true. Very impressive feat."
You're laughing now, and he takes the opportunity to kiss you again, his hand sliding higher. "But I'm okay with it."
You're about to respond when he kisses you again and it’s deeper this time, and more insistent. His hand finally reaches your breast, cupping it through your shirt, and you gasp into his mouth.
"Fuck," he breathes. "Can I—can I take this off?"
"My shirt?"
"Yeah." He's already tugging at it. "Please?"
"You're so needy."
"I know." He's not even ashamed. "I'm very needy. For you. Always."
You lift your arms, and he pulls your shirt off slowly, his eyes tracking every inch of your newly revealed skin. When he finally gets it over your head, he just stares.
"What?"
"Nothing. Just—" He shakes his head. "You're so fucking beautiful."
"You've said that."
"I'll say it again." His hands are on your ribs now, thumbs stroking your skin. "And again. And again."
"Satoru—"
"I'm serious." He leans down, kissing between your breasts. "I wake up every morning and you're here, and I still can't believe it sometimes."
Your heart flutters. "You're being sappy."
"I'm being honest." He looks up at you, and his face looks so soft and sweet. "Can't help it." He's kissing your breast now, tongue circling your nipple. "You make me sappy."
"Mm—that's—"
"Good?" His hand finds your other breast, his thumb and index finger rolling your nipple. "You like that?"
"Yes—"
"Good." He switches sides, giving your other breast the same attention. "Love the sounds you make. Could listen to them all day."
His hand slides down your stomach, fingers playing with the waistband of your underwear, and you feel him smile against your skin.
"These should come off too."
"Should they?"
"Definitely." He hooks his fingers into the fabric. "Can I?"
"So polite all of a sudden."
"I'm always polite." He's kissing down your stomach now. "I'm a gentleman."
"You're really not."
"Rude." But he's grinning, and he's sliding your underwear down slowly, kissing every inch of skin as it's revealed. "I'm extremely gentlemanly."
"You held me hostage five minutes ago."
"See? Gentleman." He's at your hip bones now, and he bites down gently. "A respectful gentleman."
You're laughing again now, and he looks up at you with that insufferable smirk.
"What's so funny?"
"You. You're ridiculous."
"And you love me."
"Unfortunately."
"Unfortunately?" He bites your inner thigh, making you jump. "Take it back."
"Make me."
His eyes flash. "Oh, I will." His hands are on your thighs now, spreading them apart. "I'm gonna make you take back every mean thing you've ever said to me."
"That'll take a while."
"Good thing we have all morning." He settles between your legs, and his breath is warm against your skin. "You're awfully mouthy for someone who called me a gentleman."
"I'm not being—oh—"
He's kissing your inner thigh, slowly and deliberately, and his hands are gripping your legs possessively.
"What was that?" He grins up at you. "Couldn't hear you."
"I hate you."
"No, you don't." He's moving higher now, and you can feel your breath catching. "You love me." He kisses your inner thigh. "That's what matters."
He kisses your other thigh. "Now let me show you how much I love you."
Then his mouth is on you, and any coherent thought becomes impossible.
He takes his time, with long, deliberate strokes of his tongue that make your toes curl. His hands grip your thighs, holding you open, and when you try to close them on instinct, he just pushes them wider.
"Uh-uh," he murmurs against you. "Stay open for me. Wanna see all of you."
"Fuck—"
"That's it." His tongue circles your clit, and you gasp. "Let me hear you."
"Ahh—Satoru—“
His tongue flattens against you, drags up slowly, then flicks at your clit. Your hips buck up. He keeps doing the same motion, but faster this time, and your fingers twist in the sheets.
"Satoru—oh god—"
"You taste so fucking good," he groans, and the vibration makes you whimper. "Could do this all day… Might actually do this all day."
"Please—"
"Please what?" He lifts his head just enough to look at you, and his mouth is wet, his eyes are dark. "Tell me what you need."
"More—I need—"
"I know what you need." He slides two fingers inside you, and curls them up, reaching that spot that makes your legs tingle, and your back arches off the bed. "This?"
"Yes—"
His mouth is back on your clit. His fingers pump in and out, curling on every thrust. You can't think. You can barely breathe.
"That's it," he murmurs. "Come for me, baby. I wanna feel it."
His fingers curl harder. His tongue flicks faster. You start closing your thighs around him, but he holds them open. Your breathing gets ragged, desperate—
Heat floods through you. You cry out his name, your hands tangling in his hair.
He doesn't stop.
His fingers keep moving, gentler now, and his tongue has gone soft but it's still there, still circling, lapping at your entrance. You're shaking, gasping, and you think he's going to pull away.
He doesn't.
"Satoru—wait—I just—"
"I know." He looks up at you. His pupils are dilated, almost completely covering the blue. "Gonna make you come again."
"I can't—"
"Oh, you can." He adds a third finger, stretching you. "You're gonna come on my tongue again, and then I'm gonna fuck you until you can't remember your own name."
"Fuck—"
His mouth is back on you, and this time he's not gentle. He's devouring you, his tongue working your clit while his fingers pump in and out. The sensitivity from your first orgasm makes everything sharper, and you're already climbing toward another one embarrassingly fast.
"That's it," he groans against you. "Feel how wet you are? All for me. You're so good, baby. You're unreal. You're actually gonna be the death of me one day."
His free hand slides up your body, finds your breast and squeezes.
You break.
Your second orgasm hits even harder than the first. You're crying out his name, your whole body shaking, and he's still not stopping.
"Satoru—please—"
He finally pulls back, pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs as you come down, trembling and gasping.
"Fuck," you breathe.
"Good?" He's grinning, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
"You're so smug."
"I have reason to be." He crawls back up your body, and you can taste yourself when he kisses you. "You're beautiful when you come. Did you know that?"
"You've mentioned it."
"I'll mention it again." His hand slides between your legs, fingers teasing. "And again. And again."
"Satoru—"
"I earned it." His hand slides down your side. "And I'm not done with you yet, baby."
"Of course you're not."
"What can I say?" He's positioning himself between your legs now, and you can feel how hard he is. "I'm obsessed with you. Can't help myself."
He lines himself up, and when he starts to push inside, you gasp. He's so big—you know this—but the stretch is always still so intense.
"Okay?" His voice is strained as he goes slowly, inch by inch.
"Give me a minute—"
He stops, buried halfway, and you can feel him shaking with the effort of holding back for you. "Okay, baby. Take your time."
You breathe through it, adjusting, and after a moment, you whisper, "Okay, you can move."
"Thank god," he groans, pushing all the way in until he's completely buried.
"Fuck, baby—" His voice cracks. "You feel so good."
He starts moving. Slow, controlled thrusts that make you gasp. Then he hooks one of your legs higher, pushing it up toward your chest, and suddenly he's hitting even deeper.
"Satoru—"
"There we go." He's watching your face. "Love watching you like this. So fucking beautiful."
"You're—ah—ridiculous—"
"Ridiculously in love with you, yeah." He thrusts harder, and you cry out. "That's it, baby. Let me hear you."
His rhythm picks up, each thrust deliberate and deep, and he's still watching your face like he's memorizing every expression.
"You always take me so well," he groans. "Like you were made for me, baby."
"Maybe I was—oh god—"
"Fuck, yes." His hand finds your other leg, pushing it up too. "Say that again."
"Ahh—Made for you—"
"That's right." His thrusts become harder, more desperate. "All mine, baby. Fuck."
He shifts his hips just slightly, hitting that perfect spot, and you come apart. You're screaming out broken attempts of his name, your whole body shivering uncontrollably.
"Fuck, baby—not yet—"
Before you can even process what's happening, he's pulling out and flipping you over. His hands grip your hips, pulling them up, and you feel him slide a pillow underneath.
"Ass up for me, baby."
You're still shaking from your orgasm, but you do what he asks. His hand slides down your spine slowly and possessively.
"Fuck, look at you." He squeezes your ass, and you hear him groan.
Then he's pushing back inside. The new angle makes you gasp. He's so deep like this, and when he starts moving, each thrust hits that sweet spot inside you. You swear you can feel him in your lungs.
"Satoru—oh god—"
"That's it, baby." His hands grip your hips tight enough to bruise. "So fucking good."
He sets a punishing rhythm. You can feel another orgasm building fast. The sensitivity from your last one makes everything feel like you might actually break apart, and when his hand slides around to your clit, you moan loudly into the mattress, almost screaming.
"You gonna come for me again?" His voice is rough and teasing now. "Can feel how close you are, baby. You're so fucking tight around me."
"Yes—please—"
His fingers circle your clit faster. You're right on the edge, so close—
You break.
You let out a silent scream, your whole body clenching around him. He groans, and it sounds almost pained. His thrusts slow down, getting deeper and more deliberate. He's not chasing anything anymore, he's just feeling the way you're squeezing him.
"Fuck, baby—" His voice breaks, desperate and raw. "You're so fucking tight. Jesus, you're actually gonna be the death of me."
His hips move slower now, almost grinding into you, and you can feel him shaking. He's breathing hard against your back, completely overwhelmed, and then his whole body goes almost rigid before he collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. His arms wrap around you, holding you close, his face buried in your neck.
"Fuck," he breathes, and he sounds completely undone. "I love you so much. Fuck—you wreck me, baby."
You both just stay like that for a few minutes, tangled together, breathing hard, his heart pounding against your back.
Then he moves, rolling onto his back next to you, pulling you with him so you're still close. His arm stays wrapped around you, and when you look at him, his eyes are soft and completely open.
You don't think. You just move, climbing into his lap and kissing him, slow and deep and full of all the love and need you feel for him. His hands immediately find your waist, holding you like you're the only thing that matters.
"Come here," he says, and it's almost pleading.
You're already straddling him, and when you sink down onto him, you both groan into each other's mouths.
"That's it, baby," he breathes against your lips. "Just like that. Fuck—"
You start to move, rolling your hips. His head falls back against the pillow. His eyes stay locked on you though, watching every movement.
"God, yes—" He grips your hips tighter. "You feel so fucking good. That's my girl."
"Satoru—"
"I know, baby. I know." He's guiding you faster now, helping you move. "You're doing so good. Taking me so perfectly."
Your thighs are burning, but you don't care. You can feel yourself getting close again.
"That's it," he groans, watching you. "Use me, baby. Please. Take what you need. You know I love it when you do."
"Fuck—Satoru—"
"I know. I can feel it." His hips start moving too, thrusting up to meet you, and the added force makes you cry out. "Come for me, baby. Wanna watch your beautiful face when you fall apart on me."
He's fucking up into you now, hard and fast, and his hand slides between your bodies to find your clit.
You shatter. You're letting out breathy and high pitched moans.
"Fuck, yes—" He's still moving, still thrusting up into you. "So fucking beautiful when you come. I could watch you like this forever, baby."
You're still shivering, still coming down, when you feel his stomach tighten under you.
"Baby—fuck—I'm gonna—"
"Come for me," you whisper. "Please, Satoru."
That's all it takes.
"Fuck—baby—I love you—fuck—" His words are broken and desperate. His hips snap up hard. "So good—you're *so good—*you're mine—"
He grips your hips so tightly it almost hurts, and you feel him pulse inside you as he comes, his whole body shuddering. His head falls forward, forehead pressing against your shoulder, and he's still murmuring against your skin. "Fuck—you're everything, baby—never letting you go—"
You're both breathing hard, shaking, and he's still buried deep inside you. His arms wrap around you, holding you tight against his chest, and you can feel his heart pounding.
"Fuck," he breathes.
"…Yeah." you breathe.
He laughs weakly, and when he lifts his head to look at you, his eyes are hazy and that breathtaking sky blue again. "That was—I don't even have words."
"Mhmm." you mumble.
He's kissing your face now—your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your lips. "Seriously, what am I supposed to do with you?"
"Satoru—"
His hands are running over your skin, like he can't bear to stop touching you. " You're the only one that gets me like this."
"You're being sappy again."
He pulls you closer, tucking you against his chest. "Only for you, baby. Only ever for you."
"I love you too," you say softly.
He's quiet, just holding you, his fingers tracing patterns on your back for a while.
"We should probably shower," you murmur eventually.
"Later." His grip tightens. "Right now I just wanna hold you."
"Clingy."
"Yep." He doesn't even sound ashamed. "You're stuck with me now. Forever. Hope you're ready for that."
"I think I can handle 'the Satoru Gojo'" you say laughing.
"Good." He kisses the top of your head. "Because I'm never letting you go."
"Sounds like a threat."
"Mmm."
And you lie there in his arms, the morning sun streaming through the window, his hands still moving over your skin in gentle swirling patterns, and yeah— forever sounds pretty fucking good.
Gojo Satoru didn’t believe in just one round during your birthday, no, he was a firm believer of making you have orgasms all day, sometimes not in the most appropriate places.
The day starts with his head in between your thighs, morning sun filtering through the curtains and casting a yellow glow over your boyfriend’s white hair. His long, slender fingers grip the skin of your thighs roughly as he dives into your sweet pussy, head rolling back as you moan and whimper above him.
The second time, it’s in the backseat of his car. You want to visit a garden centre on your birthday? Sure, as long as he can bounce you on his cock in a quiet area of the car park afterwards. You’re far too cock drunk to notice or even care if the car is rocking violently each time he slams you down onto his deliciously thick length.
The third time, two of his fingers are splitting you open in your friend’s bathroom. You should’ve known that Gojo would try this when you said your friends had invited you round for the afternoon with an open invitation for your boyfriend too.
“Satoru,” you begin breathlessly, legs involuntarily spreading wider. “Someone could hear.”
He presses open mouthed kisses along your neck, nipping at your skin playfully. “Then let them. Let them see how well you’re being treated on your special day.”
You can’t contain your moan as his fingers plunge deeper, reaching that sweet spot that made your legs shake. “You’ve already-mm-treated me twice.”
“Not enough for me, baby. I won’t let you sleep until I’ve given you at least six orgasms today.”
You barely register his words as your eyes roll back, familiar feeling building in your lower stomach as you thrust helplessly against his palm.
The fourth time happens on the couch, right after getting home and unable to even get a word out before Gojo is pushing you down, fingers already straying to your underwear. Somehow, you end up face down ass up, drooling over one of your favourite cushions as Satoru pounds into you again and again, causing the nastiest of moans to spill from your mouth.
The fifth and sixth orgasm happens during the same event, in a fancy restaurant. Apparently, Gojo had no awareness of his surroundings even in one of the most prestigious places possible. He apparently also thinks it’s funny to rub the sole of his shoe over your clothed pussy during dinner until you finish, hands gripping your cutlery in a desperate attempt to look composed. And then to top it all off, he fucks you again in his car, the passenger seat now, one hand firmly wrapped around your neck so you don’t accidentally turn your head and notice how everyone can see the two of you this time.
SATORU WAS laying on his back, a lazy arm draped around your waist while you slept against his chest. Your cheek squished against him, your lips slightly parted. He brushed the hair out your face to see you better.
“You’re kidding me,” he whispered to himself, a smirk pulling at his lips. He poked your cheek gently, the overwhelming urge to just squeeze you and kiss you hit him all at once, you just looked so cute in the mornings. His self control lasted about three seconds, his finger gently poking your cheek, giggling to himself. You frowned in your sleep as if even your unconscious self disapproved his actions, but his heart just melted even more.
Unable to stop himself, he wraps his arms even tighter around you, pulling you impossibly closer against him as he rolled onto his side, placing kisses all over your head. “Fucking adorable..”
A muffled groan came from against his chest, your eyebrows knitted together as you started to wake up from all the fuss. Your hands push at his chest, he loosened his arms around you.
You look up at him, blinking several times as your eyes adjusted to the light. “There she is,” he beamed, pinching your cheek.
“..what are you doing?” You slap his hand away gently, clearly not amused from the fact you had been woken up so early because of him squeezing and poking you.
“You just looked to cute sleeping, i couldn’t help it.” He kisses your forehead, then your cheek before placing a kiss on your lips, pulling back to admire you again, looking way too pleased with himself. You look away, going shy from being called cute, a faint blush appearing on your cheeks. “Whatever..” He almost squealed like an idiot from the sight, pulling you close against him again. “I can’t believe your real.”
“Satoru.” The warning in your voice only made him giggle more. Even though you were annoyed, he couldn’t help but feel a little amused by the whole thing. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” He kisses your head once more before finally releasing you.
You thought it’d be funny to try that “calling your bf your friend” trend you saw on tiktok on Satoru, just to see how his hopelessly in love ass would react.
Pressing the record button on your phone, Satoru stands just slightly behind you, his arm wrapped around your neck. He’s grinning into the phone, putting up a peace sign as if to say hello.
“Hi guys! Today I’m here with my friend Satoru,” he freezes against you instantly, his arm going firm where you can feel it against your neck. “We’re gonna try some new pastries…”
You keep talking into the camera, but you can see him through the screen, he’s glancing at you through the phone as well as craning his neck to look at you.
“Want to try it first?” You turn to him, holding the whipped cream stuffed bread out to him. He makes eye contact with you, his piercing blue eyes unwavering from your gaze.
“What was that?” He murmurs, his gaze hardening. You can see his jaw clench when you ask what he’s talking about. The video long forgotten.
“No,” he reaches out for your phone, not breaking eye contact as he sets it down, not caring enough to stop the recording. “We’re not doing this.”
You step back, his arm still wrapped at your neck curls in, pulling you up against his chest. He slides his other hand down to your waist, holding it firm.
Satoru’s eye twitches with anger, his jaw still tense as he speaks again. “Friend? Hm?” He brings his hand up to your cheek, cupping the side of your face as he leans in close.
He places a kiss against your lips, it's slow and tender, but you can feel the heat and passion behind it. He pulls back, just far enough he can speak freely.
“I am,” he leans in again, pulling back just as quick as he leaned in. “Not your fucking friend.” He mumbles against your lips in between kisses.
⋆˚꩜｡
“Is this what friends do, hmm?” Satoru growls into your ear, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. His large hand resting your the small of your back as he fucks into you with insane force.
You frantically shake your head, your tears wetting the satin of the bed sheets. “N..No!”
He rolls his head back on his shoulders, his Adam's apple bobbing as he suppresses a groan. “Tell me,” with a rough snap of his hips you're pushed higher up on the bed. “Who fucks you like this?”
A whine escapes your throat as he bites down on your shoulder, his pace quickens from your lack of an answer. “You! Fuck.. You, Toru!”
His large hands wrap around your stomach, his chest flush against your back as he pulls you back on him until you're on your knees. He’s still inside, in fact you’re taking him to the hilt.
“Good girl,” he hissed, his lips trailing the back of your neck as his hips twitched into yours. Your head falls back against his shoulder, a clear view of his glistening face, and that shit eating grin he’s got.
You barely have time to react before his hips snap again, fucking into you at a rapid pace. Still making eye contact with you, his hands slide up to your breasts.
His fingers playing with your nipple as he dips his head down to lick your other, the contrast of the cool air and his hot tongue are enough to make you cum right then and there.
“M’gonna- fuck,” you interrupt yourself, his free hand trails down to your clit. The pads of his fingers circling your clit as he pumbles into is too overstimulating.
“Cum for me,” he whispers against your breast, nipping at your perky nipples. Satoru seems put together, as if he’s not even close, but you feel the way his hips start stuttering, his legs shaking against your thighs. “Cum for your ‘friend’”
With one last thrust you come undone, the knot in your stomach breaking as you fall back into him. His body trembles beneath yours, hips staggering as he cums inside you.
The feeling of his thick, warm cum filling you up makes you fold over. Your head hitting the pillow as he falls with you, chest pressed against your back.
⋆˚꩜｡
When you fix yourselves up and go back to the kitchen, you notice your phone’s still been recording. The timer just hitting 2:30:00.
You sit down on the couch beside Satoru and play the video back, both laughing at how upset he was. Then you skip to sometime later in the two hours it recorded.
…
“I’m cutting that out, oh my god.” You flush, hiding your face in your hands. Satoru stole your phone from your hands, pressing play.
Loud moans from both your ends cut the silence and he laughed, sending the video to himself immediately.
“No, keep it in,” he pulled your hands away from your face. “Let em know I’m not your friend.”
