★ streamer!jo makes you fuck him reverse cowgirl after you blamed him for not giving you attention
his stream is still rolling, the chat flying by in a blur of emotes and questions he barely glances at anymore.
satoru’s leaned back in his gaming chair, legs spread wide, headset snug over his white hair, mic picking up every low laugh he lets out while he queues into another round with the guys. the screen in front of him glows with bright colors and kill feeds, but his real focus is lower, right where you’re straddling him backwards, skirt flipped up around your waist, panties long gone.
“dude,” someone pings in.
“yeah, i’m here,” he murmurs into the mic, voice calm and easy like nothing’s happening, thumb brushing over the controller. “sorry about the lag earlier, my bad.”
you bite your lip hard to keep quiet, knees digging into the cushion on either side of his thighs.
he’s already inside you, thick and warm and so deep it makes your head spin every time you shift. he had pulled you onto him the second you started whining about how he never pays attention anymore, eyes half-lidded. “ride me then,” he’d said, simple as that, camera off but everything else still live. “show me how bad you need it while i finish this game.”
your hands grip the edge of the desk for balance, trying not to make the chair creak too loud.
every little roll of your hips sinks him deeper, the slow drag pulling soft, wet sounds that only you can hear. satoru’s free hand rests on your ass, fingers spread, guiding you just enough to keep the rhythm lazy and torturous. not fast, not rough but enough to make your thighs tremble.
“bro, you’re cracked today,” one of his friends laughs through the headset, probably thinking satoru’s tired.
satoru chuckles, the vibration running straight through his chest and into you. fuck.
“must be the vibes,” he answers, voice smooth, thumb pressing a little firmer against your skin as he makes you take another inch. you clench around him without meaning to and he exhales through his nose, quiet enough that the mic probably doesn’t catch it. probably.
“y’all seem to play weak tonight,” satoru responds.
you glance over your shoulder at him. his eyes are on the screen, lips parted just a fraction, but the way his fingers dig into your hip tells you he’s feeling every single flutter. he gives a tiny thrust up when you least expect it, just enough to bump against that spot that makes your mouth fall open in a silent gasp.
“keep going, baby,” he mouths, no sound, only the shape of the words while his teammate rambles about some play.
his hand slides around to your front, fingertips barely grazing where you’re stretched around him, teasing without giving you the friction you’re aching for. “nice and slow. let me feel you.”
your breath comes shaky, chest tight as you rock back onto him again, the angle letting him press so deep it borders on too much. the chat keeps popping off on the monitor, none of them knowing their favorite streamer is buried inside you, letting you use him while he casually calls shots with the boys. the contrast makes your stomach twist in the best way.
satoru leans forward a little, pretending to adjust something on his setup, and the shift pushes him even further.
you have to press your face into your arm to muffle the whimper that tries to slip out. and satoru notices, of course he does. that fuck-ass smug little huff of air leaves him as he settles back, palm smoothing over your spine like he’s soothing you.
“you good over there?” his friend asks.
“yeah,” satoru replies, voice perfectly steady even as he gives another lazy roll of his hips that has you seeing stars. “think imma need to sign out tonight, i’m not feeling well, chat.”
he keeps you like that for the rest of the round, making you ride him reverse, slow and deliberate, every movement dragging pleasure through you while he talks and laughs and plays like it’s nothing. when the game ends and he finally mutes for a second, he leans in close, lips brushing the shell of your ear.
“blame me for not giving you attention again,” he whispers, breath hot, “and next time the camera stays on.”
discovering streamer!satoru au.. whew y’all will hate to see me coming now
you’d agreed to this out of pity, your bestfriend satoru, the campus freak with his wild white hair, taped-up glasses perpetually slipping down his nose, and that awkward hunch from hours hunched over quantum physics textbooks.
“i have a date tomorrow..” he’d mumbled, cheeks flaming red “and i… don’t want to screw it up, like, literally.” so here you were, in his cramped dorm room, textbooks shoved aside on the desk.
“okay, lesson one.” you said, stripping off your shirt with a casual flick. “gentle touches first, don’t just dive in.”
he nodded too eagerly, those piercing blue eyes usually hidden, wide and hungry behind his glasses as he fumbled with his own clothes.
his body was surprisingly toned under the baggy hoodies, lean muscle from all that cursed energy training he bragged about in class, but his hands shook when he reached for you.
you guided him onto the bed, straddling his lap to demonstrate rhythm, grinding slow against the bulge straining his boxers.
“see? build it up. tease her clit like this..” your fingers circled your own, showing him, but gojo’s breath hitched, his hips bucking up involuntarily, cock twitching hard against your thigh.
“like… this?” he rasped, voice cracking from disuse in anything but lectures, his hands, surprisingly strong, gripped your hips, mimicking your roll but with too much force, slamming you down onto him.
you yelped, but before you could correct him, he flipped you onto your back with a surge of that infinite strength he never shut up about. “wait, satoru, slow—”
no mercy, the nerd had cracked open a forbidden textbook, and now he was devouring the chapter.
he yanked your panties aside, fingers plunging in without warning, two, then three curling roughly against yourg-spot.
“you’re so wet already,” he muttered, fascination lacing his awe, glasses fogging as he pumped faster, thumb mashing your clit in erratic circles.
your walls clenched around the intrusion, slick sounds filling the room, but he didn’t stop to check—just watched your face twist, learning from your gasps. “does this… make you cum?.”
you tried to push his hand away, “c..calm down..” but he pinned your wrists with one hand as he leaned in, breath hot against your neck.
“no, teach me right, all of it.” his free hand freed his cock, fucking massive, veined and flushed, tip leaking pre-cum like.
he lined up and thrust in, no prep beyond his fingers, stretching you wide in one brutal slide, you cried out, back arching, the burn morphing into filthy pleasure as he bottomed out.
gojo turned absolutely feral, hips snapping with precision — deep, grinding strokes that hit every nerve, his cock dragging along your walls, bullying your cervix with each plunge.
“Ffck, you’re tight..” he groaned, voice dropping to a guttural whine, glasses slipping as sweat dripped down his temple.
he hiked your legs over his shoulders, folding you in half for leverage, pounding relentlessly, the bedframe rattling.
no gentle tutorial now, he was experimenting, tweaking angles, shifting to grind his pubic bone against your clit, then pulling out almost fully to slam back in, watching your pussy flutter and gape around him, creamy arousal coating his shaft.
“slow down — satoru, slow down!” you gasped, nails raking his back, but he just grinned, wild and unhinged, that loser facade shattered.
“can’t, feels too good.. look how you’re creaming on me.” he reached down, pinching your nipples hard, twisting until you keened, then smeared your own slick over them, nasty and possessive.
his pace turned punishing, cock throbbing inside you, veins pulsing as he chased his orgasm, yours came crashing first, walls spasming, milking him as you squirted messily around him, soaking the sheets.
but he didn’t stop, tlipped you onto your stomach, lifted your ass up, and railed you from behind, one hand fisting your hair to yank your head back, the other spanking your cheeks red.
“gonna fill you up.. you know…practice for tomorrow.” he panted with a sneer smirk on his lips, though his date was the last thing on his mind.
thrusts grew erratic, sloppy-wet slaps echoing, until he buried deep and erupted, hot thick ropes of cum flooding your pussy, overflowing in creamy dribbles down your thighs.
cw: smut, p in v, creampie, overstimulation, breeding kink, implications of pregnancy
⋆˚࿔ not proofread
you’ve noticed something strange recently.
each month–a week or so after your period–satoru can’t keep his hands off you.
he becomes a leech, smothering you as soon as he walks through the door with the incentive of ripping your clothes off.
it’s as if he has a six sense for your horniness.
today’s no different, satoru just came home and he practically tackled you onto the couch.
you’re smothered beneath him, his tongue inside your mouth and seeking your taste. his hands are working your swollen boobs, fondling and pinching your nipples.
“can’t wait to fill you up, fuck you until you can’t breathe.” he says against your lips.
your hands reach into his hair, tugging scarcely. the burn makes satoru hiss.
you moan breathlessly into his mouth, arching into his touch. he hums–pleased with your reaction.
“there’s my girl,” he grumbles. “always so eager f’me.” his other hand tugs your skimpy shorts down and tosses them somewhere on the floor.
your hands work his pants, attempting to tug them down before satoru’s hand catches your wrist.
he clicks his tongue, fighting the urge to laugh at you. asshole. “you can’t be patient? need me that bad?”
you glare up at him, noting the obvious boner straining in his pants.
“so you really don’t want to fuck me right now?” you shoot back already knowing what he’s going to say.
he smiles at your response. “hmm, maybe i will, only because you want me to so bad.” you roll your eyes as he slides his pants down.
his cock springs out of his pants, the tip red and leaking precum already.
you can feel yourself shamelessly clenching on nothing at the sight of it.
he positions himself, teasing you by dragging his tip over your entrance a couple of times.
you jolt, a needy whine escaping you. he chuckles at you. “you’re already soaked when all i’ve done is touch your boobs?”
he’s right–it’s embarrassing how wet you are for him when he hasn’t even been in the house for five minutes.
despite the fact, you refuse to let him embarrass you when you know damn well he’s as eager to be inside you.
“how long were you thinking about fucking me before you actually–“
he deliberately cuts you off by bottoming in, drawing a moan from the both of you.
he leans down, wrapping a hand around your waist to get used to how tightly you’re grippimg him.
your nails form dig into his toned back–shallow breaths escape your mouth.
he begins to rock his hips outward–then slamming back into you roughly. you whimper loudly.
“you feel so fucking good–so tight.” he groans.
you can feel the pulsing veins on his cock gliding across your walls–electrifying you.
satoru pants in your ear, choked whines falling past your lips each time he buries himself to the hilt. “needed me s-so bad, hm?” he nearly whimpers.
you’re trying not to come so early but god–it’s impossible not to when you he’s talking to you like this while fucking you so good.
his thumb finds your clit, rubbing firm, fast circles on it. you can feel your thighs beginning to tremble, the overwhelming sensation taking over you.
his tip grazes a spot that amkes you see stars. you gasp, your breath leaving you momentarily.
“shit, ‘toru, i-im–“
“y’gonna cum?” he asks. he scoffs before moaning. “fuck–go ahead, gonna fill you up–make you a mommy.”
you barely fathom what he says at the end before the coil inside snaps–your pussy gripping him tenaciously.
your orgasm hits you like a truck. an embarrassing high-pitched whine comes out of you.
your nails are surely forming painful crescents on satoru’s back but you’re not sure if he can even feel it.
the grip you have on his cock overwhelms him and his orgasm hits soon after yours. his thrusts turn sloppy and uncoordinated, a sign of his impending release.
“always so desperate f-for me, hah, shit-” he thrusts in once more before you feel his hot, sticky cum filling you up.
you both breathe laboriously. he kisses your ear sweetly before sitting up.
he pulls out, forming heart eyes at the way your pussy is filled to the brim with his eyes. “look at that,” he whispers.
it begins to spill out before he pushes back in without warning. you whine, your nails digging into the couch.
he giggles, those mischievous baby-blues landing on your flushed face. “sorry sweets, but we gotta make sure it really does the job right?”
you’re unsure what he means by that but it feels to good for you to question him.
he knows you’re ovulating–how, exactly?
maybe he peeked into your phone a few weeks ago and found your period tracker and saw you were ovulating.
he’d never admit that to you though!
can you tell im ovulating and craving a man named satoru gojo
jiyu's letter ᝰ.ᐟ soo i kind of gave up at the end lolol. it's just... feral snow leopard!satoru was too good to resist. perderme by miguel is such a fitting song for this fic i don't suggest i demand you listen to it while reading. hope you enjoy <3
=ᗢ=ᵎᵎ smut smut smut!! p w/o p, heat season, satoru's a desperate whimpering mess, f! oral and fingering, p in v, marathon sex, overstim, satoru is FERALLL (and rough), dry humping, biting (on satoru's end), mating press
wc: 3.7k (can u tell i was ovulating GAHSHS)
fanart by: @/xxlorinmower
ever since you fostered the mischievous snow leopard hybrid, satoru had been a handful. demanding nothing but the best shampoos and conditioners to keep his tail, ears, and hair absolutely pristine and glossy and being especially picky about what you fed him (you basically had to change your diet to cater to his needs without going broke).
you kept him plenty entertained when you left for work, giving him enough enrichment to keep him from going wild in your apartment.
despite being very high maintenance, satoru was unbelievably independent. unlike many of the hybrids you had fostered, you hardly saw him outside of meal time, and he mostly did everything on his own. you didn't mind much; sometimes it was unnerving to see the large predator appear from the depths of his room at random, though.
especially today.
it was an unusually hot day during the first blooms of spring, windows springing up to bring in the relief of gusty winds.
to no avail, however, because it seemed as though satoru couldn't find reprieve from the sweltering temperature. sweat clung so heavily to his skin he practically had to peel his shirt off of his torso. he felt his face, a horrible flush arising. his heart was begging to pound out of his chest. it hit him so suddenly, he didn't know what was going on. a fever?
it wasn't until he caught your scent in the air and the filthiest fantasies roused in his mind did he realize just what was happening to him...
fuck, this wasn't good.
he tried to restrain himself, he really did— he stripped himself down to his boxers, laid on the floor to get some relief, splashed cold water on his face to snap out of it. he even tried getting his raging boner down. multiple times.
nothing was helping.
he needed help, as hard as it was to admit. your help.
you were watching television in the living room, a fan plugged in right in front of the couch in your best attempts to cool off. you settled into the comfort of the cushions with a strawberry popsicle, hair tied out of the way of your face. a silly romcom played, capturing your attention. though, you wondered how satoru was doing with this unpredictable heat. you knew how much he detested the warm weather, especially because he already ran so hot temperature-wise.
as satoru was lethally silent, you hardly realized he had come out from his room, and you were entirely too invested in your show.
until you got a spine-chilling feeling that someone was looking at you. a sharp, primal instinct made you turn your head to the source, shoulders tense—
oh, god. it was just satoru.
"oh, hey. need anything?" you asked, a gentle cadence to your voice and a welcoming smile. you always acted as if you would scare him off if you spoke to him too casually.
his stare was almost expectant, pupils unmoving as he glanced at you. it was disconcerting, making you sit up straighter with half a mind to flee. it reminded you that you were housing a predator.
after a tense moment, he looks away. "no, just getting water." he turns towards the glass cabinet, grabbing a glass and filling it with water.
he chugged down the water, trying to wash away the filthy desires that clouded his mind when he saw you.
you had to be doing it on purpose. dressed in a flimsy cami top that he could easily rip off with a claw, and shorts that rode up your delectable thighs as you sat curled up on the couch. the way your tied-up hair left your décolleté exposed and disappointingly unmarked.
satoru could fix that. he could sink his fangs into your prized flesh, blooming bruises across your skin, mark every inch of visible skin to claim—
he adjusted his uncomfortable erection. no relief.
fuck it.
you tried to resume your show, but the looming presence of the snow leopard hybrid made you hyper-vigilant. he's never stayed out this long, nor stared at you like you were a whole meal. it was as if his elusive aura wrapped around the entire apartment whenever he came around. it made you curious, in various ways you didn't dare entertain.
his room was probably too hot to handle, and he needed some relief.
relief indeed.
unable to stand the silence any longer, you craned your head to where he was supposed to be in the kitchen, only to find him standing right in front of you, his pupils like eclipses.
you jolted, grasping the cushions below so you didn't fly from the very earth from being scared shitless. you needed to get him a bell or something.
"fuck— sorry, you scared me. you okay, satoru?" you asked, swallowing thickly.
wordlessly, satoru plops down to his knees right in front of you. your scent, slightly salty, something rich, made his mind go static.
your eyes widen, and you sit up pin straight. you were expecting anything but that.
closer, you can see the furious flush coloring his cheeks red, the hair clinging to his forehead from sweat, the sheen glistening upon his shirtless torso. your cheeks sting as you watch his abdominals flex with every heaved breath, heavier and quicker than normal. and further down—
you don't dare rationalize what you just witnessed.
"satoru— you don't look very well... do you need—"
he was purring. purring and rubbing his head against your legs, ears twitching as they made contact with your bare skin. his white hair was incredibly soft, tickling your shins. you didn't know what to do. why was he acting so strange? this sudden affection, his spiked temperature... it wasn't just the heat.
you sputtered, ears hot, "s-satoru, what are you---"
"i need help... this is so embarrassing," satoru said. his voice was low and strangely vulnerable. "fuck, i need you. please."
huh?
suddenly, everything clicked. the dilated pupils, the quick pulse, heavy breathing, high temperature---
shit. it was spring season. and it's not like the snow leopard had a partner to help with this, either.
this put you in a very bad place.
to make matters worse, satoru was sliding his hands up your calves and dragging himself closer, his crotch making contact with your leg.
shame went right out the door once he felt it. relieving pressure right at your feet.
an experimental roll of his hips had a quiet moan slipping from his pouty lips, his head nestling on your knees to hide his rosy face. his forehead was burning as it made contact with your skin.
you could barely breathe. this was wrong, wasn't it? you were giving this hybrid a home, taking care of his needs.
all cognizant thoughts were shattered right through when satoru grinded his erection right up against you again, and he propped his head up on your knees, lips pink from biting them, hair disheveled, his expression utterly ruined.
"help me, please."
well, taking care of his needs was your duty, after all.
satoru hated asking for help. it was simply not in his nature to do so, being a rather solitary hybrid.
so, when he got like this during his heat, he usually holed up in his room for the four days it lasted, curled up beneath the covers like a house cat, and tried to get through it the best he could.
he wasn't sure why he came to you for assistance. maybe because he could smell you from his room and it was fucking with him badly. maybe because you once told him he could come to you whenever he needed something.
maybe because, deep down, he was horribly attracted to you. and whenever he talked to you and you replied in that honey-sweet tone of yours, having to crane your head to gaze at his towering stature, he'd have to take a chastising cold shower immediately after to calm down.
maybe it wasn't just the heat making him act like a desperate whore.
satoru had waited for you to give him the go-ahead. a small nod was enough to have him kissing every available spot on your legs, his pearlescent fangs poking out as they got sloppier. his large hands paw your thighs apart, slipping between them to kiss further and further.
the rolling of his hips was insistent, a beg for release as his arousal grew near painful. soft moans left his mouth as he continued closer to the apex of your thighs, the doughy texture of your inner thighs giving him an irresistible urge to bite and suckle to his heart's content.
fuck, he was aimless. he had no idea how to proceed, where to go on besides clinging to you and humping your leg like a damn dog.
your teeth were tugging on your bottom lip as he placed those sinful kisses upon your skin, trying to mark you subconsciously. it was strangely pleasing, yet all the same not enough.
your hands threaded through his hair, brushing his ears. the sensation made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, an audible shudder leaving his lithe figure.
"satoru... touch me," you whispered, a hint of something dangerously close to titillation in your breathy voice.
that completely snapped him free of restraint.
in a blur, the light was shadowed by his broad shoulders, your body pushed into the cushions of the sofa, and your clothes were all but ripped off.
satoru didn't tease. didn't build up to anything.
he made sure you felt it all. the dark, primal instincts that were telling him to breed you, the lustful desires his boyish attraction to you had festered, how his thick fingers could reach deeper than any toy that you pretend satisfied you.
he pinned your legs down by your chest with one firm arm, keeping you defenseless to his merciless gestures.
satoru's rough, feline tongue made you twitch with every lap at your clit, his fingers driving into your fluttering walls with such intensity it had your eyes crossing. his purrs vibrated into your cunt as he latched onto your sopping cunt, groans languid and yet unsatisfied.
you were left scrambling to anchor yourself to the couch, hands grabbing hold onto the pillow on which your head rested on, your back bowing with each electric pulse satoru sent rushing up your spine.
you gasp as he plunges his digits deep inside of your cunt, curling right against the spongey spot that makes you keen. he does it over, and over again, relentless in making you feel.
"oh, god— satoru!" you cry, breath ripped straight from your lungs. your hand flails to find purchase, landing in his pale locks. his ears twitch as you pull roughly, whether to push him away or hold him closer, and he shivers.
it only serves to make his rhythm quicken, wet squelches echoing from your spilling hole as his fingers piston inside, your walls clenching desperately to halt the inevitable climax.
"you're clenching around me so tightly... you want it that bad, huh?" satoru was slurring. you bet he hardly knew what he was saying. his eyes are low, predatory as he gazes up at you, dangerous with lust.
"s-satoru, haah, please, slow down—" you beg indecisively, the pleasure so mind-shattering that your orgasm was quick to wash over you without warning.
you whine, legs straining against the weight he's beared down on you, head tossing back into the cushioning as he fingers you through the aftershocks, each wave seemingly stronger than the last. his pink muscle tongues at your over-sensitive bundle of nerves as if it was a bowl of milk, your cum adding a sweetened taste to your syrupy arousal.
"slow down?" satoru's grin is feral, entirely hungered as he watched your cunt quiver around his long fingers. "how could i when your perfect pussy is crying for me like this?"
he continued fucking you through your orgasm, playing with your overwhelmed clit, your hypersensitive nerves sent into overdrive. your moans turn whiny, writhing away from his ruthless hands.
“please, satoru— it’s too much… ‘m too sensitive, ah—” your hand grabs his wrist, shakily trying to push him away.
the look he gives you is enough to make your breath halt. “move your hand.” the demand is low, borderline territorial.
you listen, your heart pounding in your ears. your babbling incoherently, knuckles whitening with how tightly you hold onto the cushions.
satoru throws you into another toe-curling orgasm, making you squeal his name with tears brimming your eyes. while you’re trying to collect yourself, he kisses your mound, then all the way up your body, gnawing teasingly at your flesh as if he wanted to eat you up.
he pulls you into a deep, unadulterated kiss, a mix of teeth and spit and tongue. it's messy, intense, and you find yourself moaning into his mouth. his body presses against yours, bare chest to chest, your legs wrapping around his waist.
satoru is drunk on your taste. he whines without realizing it, all thoughts beside you faded from his mind. his hips grind against yours, rubbing his clothed erection against your sodden pussy. your thighs clench around his waist, the friction making you sigh.
he easily picks you up from the couch, not breaking the kiss once as he takes you to his bedroom. kicking the door shut. he slowly lowers you down to the mattress, a stark contrast to how he was making it his goal to completely ravish you.
“shit,” satoru almost growls into the clasp of your kiss, the sound entirely animalistic. “need you. need you so bad. please, please—”
you gently run up your fingers along his heated back, the muscles rippling with pleasure as you do so, moving to hold the back of his nape. you pull away from the kiss, foreheads resting against each other. intimate. a grounding gesture.
“take what you need,” you whisper.
that’s enough for satoru, enough for him to push himself off of you, blown-out pupils holding your gaze as he pulls down his boxers, bare to you. his cock is flushed, painfully so. the curve making the veins that run along his shaft apparent. he’s hard, and has been for so damn long, he’s surprised he hasn’t gone insane.
you sit up, somewhat in a daze. you grab the length, pumping a few strokes along it. you almost felt bad.
“how long have you been like this?” you murmur, keeping your pace slow.
his long, white eyelashes flutter as his eyes shut, brows furrowing as a needy moan punches out of his lungs.
“fu— fuck, since… this morning,” satoru stammers. his hand reaches for your wrist, gently circling around it as if unsure whether to stop you or let you continue. “please, shit… need to be inside. wanna be inside. please.”
you don't resist. you lie back against the sheets, spreading your legs easily. he swallows, his eyes as wide as saucers. this was a sight better than anything he could ever be offered, better than any expensive goat meat you bought for him. his tail flicks behind him, heavy and unguarded. he crawls over to you as if he were stalking prey, slow and meticulous. he kisses your knee before shrouding you, pressing his lips to your pulse.
he lines himself up to your drooling hole, slowly sliding inside. the pressure is burning, his girth stretches your hole, making your pussy flutter from the sudden intrusion. you hiss, digging your nails into his shoulder.
“ah— it’s not gonna fit,” you gasp, keening as he slips past the ring of muscle, sucking him in deeper. satoru whimpers, trying to restrain himself from ramming his entire cock inside.
“shhh, shhh, it’ll fit. relax. you can take it.” he contains himself just enough to comfort you, sliding kisses across your collarbone, down to your nipples where he suckles and fondles your breasts to get you to relax.
he slowly rolls his hips, moving according to your comfort. you moan lowly, your hand migrating to tease his ears which has him purring.
once your walls are able to accommodate all of him, he is no longer gentle. he fucks you deep, hard enough to have the headboard smack the wall with each pronounced thrust. he is unabashedly loud. whining your name like a curse, whimpering when you clench around him, his spotty tail swinging wildly with his rigor.
tears are streaming down your face by then, your back bowing, nails digging into his back. your voice croaks from mewling his name, pitchy and cracking. what makes you really scream is when satoru grabs the backs of your knees, roughly pushing your legs down to your chest, pistoning deep enough to prod at your cervix.
“ah, ah—! s… ‘toru! so fucking deep, ngh!” every noise you make is punctuated by his relentless thrusts, each pressing you into the mattress.
“fuck… oh, fuckkk… you're clenching around me, haah, yesyesyes!” satoru babbles, lost in the wet sloshes of your pussy. it's so much yet not enough all in the same. he wants more, craves more, he wants to absorb himself in you and your scent and god—
he wants to make you his.
the thought curls darkly in his mind, roiling with hormones and earnest want. it makes his pace impossibly faster, with energy you thought would be at least toned down from effort. as if in reaction to his revelation, his tail wraps across your abdomen, fur tickling you with its claim.
he lets out a growly moan, sucking on your collarbone, plunging deeper inside of you, hitting your sweet spot with mind-numbing precision.
“oh, my god— ohmygodohmygod— shit! right there, don't stop!” you whine, meeting his thrusts with a small cant of your hips. your legs quiver in his grasp, gratification rattling your nerves. satoru lets out a groan, his face dipping into the crook of your neck, small whimpers falling directly into your ear while he suckles on your shoulder.
“feel so… hngh, good— g-gonna make you mine. hm? say you're mine, please.” his words hardly register in your head, but you are nodding regardless, nails clawing at his back with every push of his cock. a sharp twinge pinches the skin of your shoulder, satoru's feline fangs biting into flesh. it makes you gasp, a broken moan erupting from your lips.
“ah— ah! i’m yours, yours, mngh—” those words only serve to make satoru’s thrusts grow sloppy, his tip kissing your sweet spot with each deep plunge.
it was filthy, entirely primal— and yet intensely passionate.
“‘m gonna cum— shit, shit, i’m cumming, yes!” he spills into your velvet walls with a choked sob, spurts of thick white painting your walls. he clings onto you, fucking you through your own release, indistinct sweet nothings purring into your ears as he kisses you along your collarbone.
“so good f’me… pretty girl, doing so well. love you, love you…” he pulled you into a kiss, one that asserted you weren't leaving this bed for a while…
minutes fade into merciless hours. even after making you orgasm so much you nearly forgot your own name, satoru's stamina seemed limitless. it was as if he was trying to carve his very existence into you with each thrust of his cock, as if it was his single goal to imprint on you. which, it probably was; deep marks littered your skin, bite marks plentiful on across your shoulders.
not to mention the way he had flipped you every which way just to stuff you full of his cum. the sheets beneath you were evidence, his seed dripping out of your tired hole, parts of the fabric ripped from satoru’s claws trying to find purchase.
after you grew too tired to hold yourself up, he laid both of you down on your sides, his fervent thrusts becoming messy grinds of his hips, though they were just as eager.
satoru was barely comprehensible. moaning your name, soft cries leaving his kiss-swollen lips when he bottomed out. his voice became a hoarse whisper as he murmured praises into your ear, biting and licking at the skin just below.
“hnghhh… you feel so good, wanna keep you like this forever, mngh… you're fucking amazing,” he groans, forehead sweltering hot as he presses it against your shoulder. his hand moves from its place at your stomach, fondling your breast, eliciting a tired whine from you.
“‘toru… can't… i can’t, it's too much,” you say, legs still shaking from your previous climaxes.
he hushes you tenderly, thumb rubbing over your receptive nipple while he litters kisses on your shoulder. “shhh, you can. one more, okay? can you do that for me?”
his fingers tease your skin as he lowers to the apex of your thighs, finding your clit and rubbing tight circles. you let out a low moan, head leaning back against his chest.
“cum for me, pretty girl.” he rolls his hips right into the spongey part of your walls, your shuddering release washing over you.
satoru’s comes not too long after, a growly whimper muffled by your skin that he presses his lips against. the base of his shaft is frothy with your mixed releases, a sinful vision that has him rearing for more. yet, with the way your body slumps against him, rationality slightly unfogs his heat-addled mind.
you needed rest. and to be cleaned up.
with a few kisses to your heated skin and murmurs of praise, satoru lays you down, leaving to retrieve a warm, damp cloth. he cleans you, the gesture oddly intimate. after tossing the towel away, he crawls over to you, pressing his cheek against your chest as he plops himself on top of you, strong arms enwrapping your waist.
you are just barely conscious enough to hear:
“think you can take a few days off work? might be like this a while.”
jerking off while laying in bed with satoru, unbeknownst to you, he’s doing the same!
you lay next to satoru, hand shoved down the hem of your pajama pants as you slowly glide your fingers through your slick folds. you can’t be bothered to wait until he’s awake, that man could probably sleep through a tornado.
he has one arm hooked around your stomach, holding you close enough to feel his breath on your neck, though he’s still far enough to dodge the movement of you shimmying your panties down your thighs.
you finally press your middle and ring finger against your pulsing entrance, slowly pushing them in and wincing at the filthy squelch that followed. you slide them in further, curling them in search for the citrus textured patch at the front of your sticky walls.
you start to pump your fingers in and out, trying your best to avoid such vulgar sounds being made. your face thumps against the plush pillow your head has been resting on, muffling a stifled moan you could only wish to keep in. you can hear heavy breathing coming from behind you, but just assume he’s pre-snoring.
with a gentle twitch , you start to rock yourself on your fingers, shaking the mattress with every little rut of your hips. just when you find the perfect rhythm, you hear a louder groan from behind you.
followed by the feeling of something wet splattering against your back.
you gape like a fish, immediately whipping your head around to see a shit-eating grin cursing satoru’s handsome face. his lovely, blue eyes are half lidded, and you can see now that he’s been stroking his cock the entire time. the tip twitches, spurting out another stream of white, sticky pearls onto his veiny hand.
your back was a sticky mess! he didn’t even let you get a word out, his cum covered hand pulls your wrist away from your clenching cunt. shooing your hand away and replacing it with his messy one.
“bad girl, you’re supposed to wake me up.” he cooes, already pressing two fingers into your semi-loose hole. “could’ve came inside you instead of all over your back.”
you shudder, a weak whimper crawling from your throat. the feeling of his warm, extra droplets of cum mixing with your slick makes you clench. “you could’ve told me you were awake! am i supposed to just get myself off when you’re equally as horny?”
satoru clicks his tongue, while his fingers scissor in and out of your sappy pussy, stretching you, preparing you. “guess not.” he smiles again, though you can’t see it. “i sincerely apologize for shooting a load on your back. why don’t you cum on my fingers in retaliation?”
you hate how good the idea sounds, though your pussy was more than thrilled. you loved how he fills you up even with his fingers. he curls them again, eliciting a strained keen from you. he laughed —of course he did. “thaaaats it. you know you want to, baby.”
with a few more pumps, you finally shatter. your back arches, creating more space between your bodies. “s-satoruuuu—!” you whine, unconsciously fucking yourself on his fingers as you ride it out. you gush all down the digits, replacing his cum with your juices instead.
“what a good girl, see?” he sits up, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek. slowly, he slides his fingers out with a pop! “i want you on your back, sweet girl.”
𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ needy, ovulating wife.ᐟ ft. gojo satoru (nsfw)
the strongest just couldn't keep up.
you had him backed up against the door of your shared bedroom, hands flat on his chest feeling his rapid heartbeat going thump-thump through that thin shirt of his. your lips attacked his neck, the pale skin already adored with marks, lip balm and spit.
satoru's breathing was already shallow- quick frantic breaths as you knew no mercy, his lips letting out the faintest groan when your hand brushed against the very obvious, and prominent bulge of his sweats.
"so early, baby..." he huffed out, spit caught in his throat when you cupped him, thumb teasing his tip through the fabric. "can't even leave the room to make breakfast, huh? what's gotten into you-"
you squeezed him and he groaned- deep, vibrating- before you pressed a kiss to his neck. "I knowww... but I jus' really wanna... can't I be greedy?"
you started to stroke him through his sweats slowly, his hips bucking hesitantly into your hand- he was already sooo hard, and that only for you.
you dropped down to your knees, looked up at him and the view was perfect: half-lidded eyes, the slight tint of pink on his cheeks and the tip of ears, and spit-glistening lips.
“i never said you couldn’t be, baby.” Satoru murmured, doing the work of undoing his sweats for you, slipping them down until his cock sprung up, right in front of your face. “everything for my greedy, needy wife.”
you hummed with a smile before grabbing his length, earning a small grunt before you kissed his tip, swallowing his length right after. his cock rested on your flat tongue, the head prodding against the back of your throat as you bobbed your head. satoru's hips bucked, his lips pressed into a thin line to suppress a moan, and it wasn't long before he groaned, shooting ropes of cum into your mouth, tickling down your throat.
the next half hour was a blur- honestly.
one moment you're sucking off his dick, and the next you're riding him into the mattress, manicured nails (that he insisted on paying) scratching down his chest as he gasped, moaned, writhed- "baby, my sweet wife, love of my life-" he managed to get out, laying spread-eagle on the bed. "you're- y-you're killing meeee-"
"'m nottt," you giggled, riding his dick toward the next day. it's surprising he was still hard, didn't soften even the slightest bit. "you feel sooo good too, 'toru."
your praise didn't fall on deaf ears. his gorgeous blue eyes rolled back into his skull as his hands grabbed your hips. fingers digging into your flesh. "mhmmpf- sure, sure- you feel good- fuckkk- too, baby... s-so tight..."
he thrusted his hips up in tandem, whines getting cut off as you squeeze your pussy around him, feeling every ridge and the cocked deep inside you. his jaw was agape, dick twitching inside.
"baby, s-so warm- g-gonna cum- I'm gonna-" as if on cue, he filled you up, feeling his cum shoot right into your cunt and even dripping down. that warm feeling of getting full of your dear husband's cum scratched you in all good places of your brain- at the same time. like a massage where that one muscle knot finally relaxes. his chest heaved. breath getting caught.
god, you were insatiable. he loved it, every time, truly, but shit- eager, greedy, needy? none of those words described you during ovulation. satoru was already crawling off the bed, sitting at the edge before you latched onto him, arms wrapping around his hips as you purred, "'toruuu, where're you going?"
satoru froze, whining- not in pleasure, but in defeat. "my wife, as much as I love you, I-" "Mhmmm, that's right, you looove me..."
...
"...the hell happened to you?" megumi raised a suspicious brow.
“uh, toru?” you called out, staring at his desk’s drawer. your hand stuck on the knob as a skin colored cylinder greets you.
you know well what you are looking at.
“holy shit, okay—i’m sorry, i forgot to throw it, i swear—”
you glance at satoru who is walking up at you, abandoning the cooking he was supposed to do.
you are sure that satoru is not deprived of sex. your sexual activities with him is actually something that other nerds will be jealous of.
and after being with satoru for a month, you are sure he’s not even innocent. that man is a monster in a bed—well, if you find monsters cute.
“baby, i swear, i haven’t used that in so long. i’m more than satis—”
“you think i can use it on you?” you asked him, grabbing the toy.
“huh?” satoru asked in disbelief.
before he can even answer, you had him sit down on his desk chair. his legs are spread, sweats along with his underwear already discared in the floor.
getting satoru hard is never a problem—he seems to always be anyways.
the silence stretches as you kneel in front of him, satoru feels like the room is getting small as he watches you pour lube on his cock.
“why did i even agree to do this..” satoru mumbled, glasses slipping down on his nose.
“because you love me and i’m about to make you cum just by using a toy.” your hand grabbed satoru’s shaft, guiding the fake pussy hole to his head. when his whole cock gets in the rubbery flesh, satoru let out a small moan.
you move the fleshlight up and down on satoru’s dick, thrusting it fast.
“oh, it slipped,” you said, swirling the toy around his cock’s sensitive head. “sorry.”
“ahh don’t—baby, shit—” satoru moaned, hand clutching on your shoulder. “shit—i think i’m gonna lose my mind—”
“over some toy?” you asked, catching him off guard. satoru’s blue eyes stare right at you, his brows knit from pleasure. “you’re too easy, toru”
“huh!? no! i—i don’t mean it like—ah, fuck—! hah!”
“is this how you like it, toru? squeeze it and move fast, just like that—oh, are you gonna cum? over some stupid fake pussy, toru? you’re pathetic.”
satoru’s breathing is getting louder and heavier, “hah—i’m sorry, baby—sorrysorry, fuck, you’re gonna make me cum—hah! ahh”
“do you want to cum, toru? want to cum inside a fake pussy instead of mine? you like this toy more than me now?” you squeezed the rubber a little before moving it.
“nonono—i only want you—your pussy—yours is the best—hah, shit, i’m gonna cum—i’m sorry—fuckfuck, baby”
you feel satoru’s cock twitch in the fleshlight, pouring all his semen inside the toy. his cum leaks out of the toy, travelling down on his balls.
you pulled out the fleshlight as cum coats his still hard cock. you stand up watching satoru’s chest heave, his head thrown on the headrest of his chair.
his eyes are shut closed, glasses a little foggy. you grab one of his hands to lace yours as you lean down on his ear.
“i’m jealous that you came because of a toy, toru. mind doing it on a real pussy this time?”
you swore satoru stopped breathing for a second.
notes. gojo two times in a row? woah, there might be something in the waters. 𐙚 main masterlist.
synopsis — you didn’t anticipate this is how getting your first ever pap smear would be like. soaked, shaking, and moaning. but hey—your doctor’s hot as fuck and dangerously good with his fingers, and his mouth is even filthier.
tags/warnings — smut, fingering, dirty talk in a medical way, slight praise, very unprofessional & unethical gojo, a little dubcon-y, power imbalance, oral (f. receiving). dividers by @/enchanthings
wc — 4.5k
a/n: s/o to remmm @/redrrem for helping me proofread + making this more slutty. xoxo mwah
Ever since you moved out of your suburban hometown and into the big city, you’ve had many more changes to get used to than you had initially thought.
Someone taking your undesignated parking spot, the insane coffee prices, and waking up to the annoying sound of traffic in the early morning.
Another change that came with your move is finding not only a new primary care doctor or a hospital you can now call your go-to, but also finding a new gynecologist.
And, unluckily for you, you haven’t been to one since…ever.
You’re a bit afraid, which is natural, considering the many horror stories you’ve heard about metallic devices being shoved into your vagina, which hurt like a bitch, or how, on the contrary, it’s not painful at all.
You know, you know, you need to go. And you won’t deny that you’ve been pushing this dreaded appointment off ever since you turned the right age.
But now is the time. You’ve moved. You’re on your own in the big city, and times have changed. No more having to rely on your mother to schedule an appointment for you.
Your legs still feel wobbly as your name gets called. Standing from the chair you’ve been in for the past 20 minutes and following the kind woman in scrubs. She leads you to the back and into a designated room.
Before you enter, you catch sight of the silver-plated "Dr. Gojo” plastered on the door.
The first thing she does is check your height, then your weight, and lastly your blood pressure.
That’s normal, you’re used to it. You reassure yourself and your pulsing heart rate.
After the initial examination, she takes the strap off your arm, rolling over to the computer, and that’s when she begins to ask you questions.
“So…Ms. Y/N, correct?”
You nod, fingers fiddling in your lap as you sit upright. “Correct.”
“I assume this is your first time?” she asks with a reassuring smile, noticing your fidgeting.
“It is,” you awkwardly laugh. “I guess I’ve just been…nervous, that's all.”
She smiles and looks at you. “That’s completely normal. Many women have a hard time scheduling their first gynecologist appointment. But I just want to assure you that we will try our absolute best to ensure you are comfortable throughout the appointment. And of course, this is for your safety. We’ll be able to determine if—”
“Yeah, yeah. Diseases. Cancer. I know.” After you’ve just so rudely cut her off, that’s when you shamefully sigh and scratch your neck. “I’m sorry. That was rude. I’m just nervous.”
The woman nods in understanding, focusing back on the screen. After a few silent moments, she clears her throat. “When was the first day of your last period?”
You think for a second, then answer: “About two weeks ago now.”
She nods slowly. “And are they regular?”
“Hmm, mostly. I guess? Sometimes I’m a few days late, never more than a week.”
“I see, how long do they usually last?”
“Maybe a few days... Or even a week?”
“Any specifics?” She’s typing on the keyboard.
You purse your lips in thought. “I guess…around five to six days at most. Somewhere around there. I don’t really know.”
“Do you experience heavy bleeding or severe cramps?”
“Both,” you slump your shoulders. “But some periods I feel nothing, and my bleeding is less heavy.”
“And are you sexually active?”
Your cheeks burn stupidly for some reason, gulping. It’s a slightly difficult question, in all honesty.
You’re not a virgin, but you’re also not getting dicked down frequently. “I’ve been celibate for more than a year now.”
The nurse, humming again, continues typing her fingers against the keyboard. The next few minutes are full of her questions about your sexual life, any symptoms or concerns you may have, medication you’ve taken, family history, and even mental health.
You audibly sigh in relief when she finishes up, but this was the easy part.
Now, left alone, having already removed your bra and underwear from your tank top and skirt, you’re actually fucking terrified.
You’re forced to wait in agony and anticipation, trying to focus your mind on whatever shit you’re watching on your phone.
What’s even worse is that you were informed that your gynecologist is a man. You wanted a woman.
“Great, fucking great.” You scoff under your breath, fisting the thin layer of bed sheet beneath you.
You try to think on the bright side of things. Getting a Pap smear and a breast exam during the same session. It’s like killing two birds with one stone. Or more like killing one bird with two stones.
Your head whips up the second you hear a knock. The door handle turns, opening from the other side, as you scramble to turn your phone off and into your purse.
Your mouth dries.
“Hello, Y/N. I’m Dr. Satoru Gojo. I’ll be your primary gynecologist. How are you today?”
You can’t even respond, eyes shamelessly fawning over the man in front of you.
Tall, lean, extremely handsome. Soft, white hair pushed back lazily, but elegantly. Thin-rimmed glasses on the tip of his nose that barely do anything to obscure the fact that his eyes are just so, so blue.
Standing before you, in a long white coat with scrubs underneath, with a smile that showcases his pearly white teeth and his dimples on his cheeks. You can smell his expensive cologne from here.
Sitting on the rolling chair the nurse was on previously, legs spread slightly, he regards you with a friendly gaze that leaves you wondering…This man is your gynecologist???
He raises his eyebrows, waiting for your response.
You blink rapidly, words broken as you manage to stutter out a response. “O-oh. I—um—I’m great, thank you. And you?”
“I’m doing wonderful, thank you for asking. It’s a very hot day today, isn’t it?” He fans himself and looks out the window. All you’re focused on is his fingers. “The summer heat is getting brutal.”
You force out a laugh when he does, though it doesn’t sound as genuine as his. “Yeah, really, really…hot….” Your voice trails into a soft whisper, hypnotized by the way he adjusts the watch on his wrist, exposing just a peek of forearm muscle and veins.
From his peripheral vision, he glances at you. Oh no. You’ve been caught staring.
He simply chuckles softly and rolls over to the computer to look over your chart. “So, this is your first time, correct?”
“Correct…”
“I'll walk you through every step, okay?”
You nod, his honeyed voice calming your nerves.
“We’ll start with a breast examination, then move on to your pap smear. I’ll step out and give you privacy to undress and put on this gown.”
He opens a cabinet nearby and hands you the folded piece of fabric. His fingers brushing against you, making you flinch. Maybe it’s your delusional side, but you could’ve sworn his touch lingered—and his eyes sharpened just slightly behind his glasses.
You’re so not ready.
The moment his cold fingers feel the underside of your breast, you can’t help but softly gasp.
That doesn’t deter him. He mutters softly, “Does anything hurt?”
You shake your head, your throat dry.
He hums. “Good, if anything does, please let me know.” Then he uses his other hand to lightly prod and feel the sensitive, soft skin of your breasts. Slim fingers move methodically, fingertips just barely pressing deeper into you, examining the areas for any unusual or concerning lumps.
He shifts closer on his rolling stool, knees brushing against the edge of the exam table. You’re completely hypersensitive. From the antiseptic smell emanating from the room, to the way your heart is beating rapidly, the flutter of his pale lashes, and lastly, on the focused creases between his eyebrows.
And of course, his hands on you just have to feel better than any other time you’ve been felt up before.
Granted, he’s doing an examination, not ‘feeling you up’. And you’re a little—well, very—touch deprived. So there’s a perfectly good excuse as to why your thighs squeeze together from under the gown, fists bunching the material up and doing your ultimate best to hold back a whimper when the pad of his finger flicks against your hardened nipple.
“Any tenderness here?”
Somehow, you manage a response through a shaky voice. “N-No, Dr. Gojo.”
Another faint hum of acknowledgment. “You’re sensitive, which is completely normal, no need to worry. Especially during exams like these.”
You nod silently, feeling a puff of warm air that he exhales. Each gentle, circular rotation from him feels like a restrained study. Moving from the outer edge to the inner, until his fingers skim over your perky nipples.
You’re almost tempted to close your eyes. To tilt your head back and ask him not to stop, but you restrain yourself. You swallow hard.
“Skin tone is even, no visible discoloration. Your tissue is soft, no abnormalities.”
“That’s good,” you exhale shakily, eyes fluttering. You’re not so sure if it’s in response to him or his hands.
He raises his pale blue eyes, a smile creeping up his lips. Focusing on the other side, he repeats his ministrations. His movements never rushed, they’re slow and deliberate with an occasional squeeze.
“Consistent texture. I sense no masses. Your breasts are symmetrical,” his eyes move back down to your boobs in front of him, a constant. “You’re doing very well. Just keep breathing, okay?”
Your chest rises and falls in a stuttering way. He glances back up. Just once.
“If you’re holding your breath, that may cause some tension. Try to relax for me.”
“Right. Relax,” you repeat in a quieter tone of voice.
Heat pools in your belly, squeezing your thighs tighter. He runs his finger across your nipple again, flicking it in a clinical way to test your reactions.
And boy, is your small gasp a reaction for him. Too bad your eyes are closed, you would’ve seen the boner he carefully hides in his slacks.
“Highly reactive to stimulation. Again—this is very normal.”
Finally, after what feels like forever, his hands pull away, and you finally breathe right. Slowly opening your eyes, you feel your cheeks red, a small wetness between your clenched thighs that makes you panic at the thought of him seeing it.
Does he smell it?
You make eye contact, his tongue running over his bottom lip. His white teeth peeking out from his semi-smile. It’s like he knows the effect he has on you; he just doesn’t point it out.
At least he’s somewhat saving your dignity.
“That concludes the breast exam.” He confirms in approval, noting down whatever observations he’s made, before moving on to the next half of the examination.
You let out a sigh of relief, letting your muscles relax, watching as Dr. Gojo reaches for a pair of fresh latex gloves, before turning to you once again.
“We’ll move on to the internal portion next.” His voice is smooth as butter, professional, and friendly. You blink, your brain a bit foggy. His head tilts. “Unless you’d like a moment to catch your breath?”
God, just the way he asks that question. How his voice lowered and softened into honey silk.
“No, I…I’m okay to move on now.”
His smile turns crooked. “Excellent.”
Completely bare from the waist down, the gown that once offered you the slightest bit of dignity now lifted up to your hips to present your bare core to the man sitting in front of it. Your feet were held up, planted on the stirrups, legs up and apart, and you’re left blinking up at the blank white ceiling.
You hear some shifting from down there, assuming he’s getting everything he needs ready for the exam.
Your bare thighs prickle under the cold air, and from your own growing sense of anticipation.
Gloves snap against skin, a subtle clink of metal against a tray.
“This may feel just a tiny bit cold. But if you’re uncomfortable or feel any sort of pain or discomfort, tell me immediately.”
You gulp. “Okay.”
His chair wheels closer between your thighs, his gloved hand gently resting on your thigh. “I’ll begin with the visual exam, just checking to make sure everything looks safe and healthy.”
“Okay,” you say again, as if it’s the only word you do know right now.
You bite your lip, eyebrows furrowing. You can’t help but tense when two fingers carefully part your folds, hips twitching—an involuntary response. He pats your thigh gently.
The cool air hitting your intimate area leaves you with goosebumps all over, unintentionally clenching your pussy as you feel his hot breath against your inner thigh.
“Your labia appears healthy. No irritation, lesions, or abnormal discharge,” he clinically notes to himself. His two fingers spread you a bit more, wheeling closer.
You can practically feel the heat of his gaze, your breath stuttering. It feels embarrassing. You try to reason with yourself once more that this is mandatory, just another check up for your own health, but fuck—getting examined like this, by a man this gorgeous, it feels different.
Even worse when he says:
“You’re already lubricating naturally. That’s a very good sign, it means your body’s responding well.”
God, just kill me now.
He pauses, then asks softly. “Do you wish for me to stop?”
“No,” you whisper.
A low purr. “Alright.”
You hear latex against metal. “Now you'll feel just some slight pressure. Tell me if you need me to stop.”
You mentally brace yourself.
Inhaling sharply as he presses the speculum into your entrance. It’s coated in lubricant, making the process somewhat easier. You’re still tense, however.
“Relax your muscles, I’ve got you.” He pats your knee now.
Well, that’s fucking hard to do when he’s putting a metal device inside your pussy.
It’s cold, foreign. The dull slide of the metal instrument still manages to make you cringe and tense instinctively. His free hand that rubs your knee manages to ground you, even if just for a little bit.
It slides in deeper in a controlled, careful manner. You wince. And he finally settles it in place.
“Almost done, okay? Just a deep breath for me.”
Then, he gently opens the speculum, effectively widening your entrance to his focused gaze. The stretching of it makes your body and mind go rigid, a wheeze leaving your lungs as you fist the thin sheet laid beneath you.
You want to just clamp your thighs together, to just push the object out. Somehow, you withstand.
“You’re doing very well for me,” he praises, his voice smooth and even. “…cervix is high and centred. No inflammation. Looks healthy.”
He’s silent for a beat, and then: “We’ll take the Pap smear sample now.”
You nod, but your body stays stiff as a brush touches deep inside, brushing lightly, strangely. Not painful, but so intimate you could scream.
“Alright,” he finally says, retracting the brush and then closing the speculum before slowly sliding it out.
Instant relief washes over you, letting out an audible breath you were holding in for who knows how long. However, he doesn’t wheeled away yet.
“And now, I’m going to perform the bimanual exam next. Just two fingers inside, and the other hand will press down on your abdomen. This allows me to check the size and position of your uterus and ovaries.”
You nod again, more dizzy than anything.
A pause. “Still okay?”
“Y-Yeah,” you breathe.
Then his fingers are back—two gloved digits sliding in slowly, steadily, and deeply. They fill you quickly, curling slightly inside you while his other hand presses gently down over your lower stomach.
“You’re tight,” he murmurs, still sounding like he’s merely observing facts. “No tenderness. Cervix is firm but not rigid… The uterus feels normal. No abnormalities detected. Good response.”
You let out a shaky breath. The pressure of his touch is maddening. Not rough. Just exact.
“You’re clenching again. Try to relax around me.”
You whimper slightly as his fingers curl just a little more deliberately, pressing gently against the front wall.
“Very sensitive here,” he murmurs. “Highly reactive. Normal, but worth noting for future visits.”
“I-Is this…is this really part—I mean—necessary?” You manage to get out, voice strained.
He chuckles gently. “It is all part of the job. Remember, tell me if you need me to stop, okay?” He eventually glances up at you again, noticing the way your face is as red as a tomato, and how you look like you’re holding something back, albeit barely.
He likes the look in your eyes. Loves it even.
And unbeknownst to you, his cock twitches.
He manages to keep his composure, looking back down at you spread before him, how your slick coats his latex-gloved fingers. Your scent is beginning to make him dizzy, and he almost wants to pull out and lick his fingers clean.
He holds back.
He’s a professional, remember?
“Internal temperature is warm. Muscles are responsive.” His fingers twist up slightly. “There.”
A sound catches in your throat.
“Found it,” he says simply, as if identifying a sample on a slide. “You’re particularly reactive here. Let’s test the consistency of that response.”
He starts up a slow, controlled rhythm—his fingers moving upward, pressing with devastating precision against your G-spot.
You bite your lip, your body jerking with every press.
“Pelvic contractions are increasing,” he observes. “You’re clenching harder around my fingers. Excellent neurological response.”
“D-Doctor—” you whimper.
“Shhh,” he coos, face leaning closer to your dripping heat, savoring the slick sounds of his fingers exiting, entering, curling, then exiting again.
The next few seconds are agony, pure agony. Because, sure, this is an exam. But are they usually this long? Do they usually feel this good? And does your doctor always finger your G-spot with ease until you’re dripping out onto the bed?
“Hypersensitivity right along the anterior wall. Fascinating.” He murmurs lowly, as if the way he moves his fingers in and out of you was part of the examination all along. “And every time I do…this—“ his two digits curl, smirking when he hears the hitch of your breath and sees the jerk of your hips. “You tense up. Means your nerves are firing just perfectly.”
“This…this feels…..”
“Good?”
You can’t help yourself this time. A surprised moan escaping your lips when his thumb comes into the picture, lazily skimming over your clit with enough force to make you practically yearn for more.
You hadn’t expected that. Especially that. Not during an exam.
“Apologies, that wasn’t part of the plan,” he murmurs more so to himself, thumb barely hovering above your bud. “But your body is begging for more stimulation. Your clitoris is swollen and hot to the touch. I’d be remiss not to note this down.”
When you whimper again, his eyes flicker up, half-lidded. A slight smirk against his glossy lips.
“Still with me?”
“U-uh…huh…” you pant, your hips shamelessly rutting up against his fingers. You need more.
His smile becomes thinner, eyes glinting with something hidden behind them. “Then I’ll continue. Neurological response is reaching its peak, I’ll apply more pressure now.”
Your toes curl in the stir-ups, head tilting back with your mouth parted in a quiet mewl. The tip of his fingers hit that special spot so effortlessly, and the way he talks as if what he’s doing is completely normal, it makes you feel warmer. Wetter. It makes you want something else. Maybe even for his cock to replace his fingers.
“P-Please—”
“Do you need me to stop?”
You shake your head helplessly. “N-No—I just—”
“You’re pulsing,” he croons. “Try to hold on just a bit longer, can you do that for me?”
“No…!” You cry out, your hand shooting down to hold his wrist. Your body is moving on its own at this point. You moan again when his middle finger rubs your G-spot, back arching off the examination table.
“I think you can,” he merely suggests, his thumb swirling your clit.
You see stars, wetness prickling at your eyes.
“Clitoral sensitivity is elevated. Likely from prolonged internal and external stimulation.”
Your hips shift, rutting against the heel of his palm. You’re conscious of the way you clench down around his fingers, like you’re trying to suck him in and bring them deeper.
In your mind, it’s all a jumbled mess. You’re aware of what you’re doing—of what he’s doing. Questioning if this is appropriate in the first place, if he’s even a damn gynecologist.
But this far in, you’re only focused on one thing.
Your voice is barely a whisper. “Dr. Gojo, I—”
“I know, I know. You’re overwhelmed, correct? That’s normal.” His fingers hit your spongy wall, rubbing and curling. “However, I am surprised you haven’t orgasmed yet. Maybe my fingers aren’t doing that good of a job?”
He chuckles at his own shitty joke, all the while you’re completely falling apart.
“This is still a part of the exam,” he says again, but softer this time. More dangerous. “I’m checking your response to prolonged internal stimulation. Monitoring consistency. Depth. Pressure. Pleasure.”
And just like that, he brings his fingers out, thumb withdrawing from you.
It feels like a blow to your pussy, a physical punch that leaves you winded and panting and broken. It’s completely devastating. You’re left clenching around nothing but air, desperately begging for something to fill you once more. A whine claws up your throat, raw and utterly needy.
Before you can even question anything or attempt to regather your bearings…
He slides back in.
Faster. Harder.
Your loud, broken sob that morphs into a moan echoes off the walls of the office. “Dr!”
The wet, filthy squelchy sound of your cunt swallowing his long digits welcomes his ears. He sighs in blissfulness. His fingers drive into you, knuckles deep, curling—dragging—along that same pulsing spot with surgical precision. Your walls tighten violently around him, trying to hold him in, to milk him like it’s his cock instead, your body betraying your mind completely.
You can’t stop the tears that now trickle down your cheeks. The overstimulation, the embarrassment, the need. Your hips twitch again, greedy for more, even as your legs shake helplessly in the stirrups. “W-wait…I…this isn’t…”
The lewd sounds are slick and steady, timed with your ragged breathing and broken gasps. And somehow, you can’t find it in yourself to say ‘stop’, to tell him this isn’t right.
Maybe this is normal? Maybe this always happens. It is your first time, so everything probably feels way more intense than—
Spit!
A filthy warm, deliberate wad of saliva hits your shivering cunt with abrupt forcefulness. It makes you wheeze, jolting.
“Hah…look at that,” his voice is low, ragged—almost breathless in awe. “Oh, right. Sorry, intrusive thoughts. But I was right, you contracted again. It makes me wonder...”
“Dr. Gojo—!” You whine out, eyes closing forcefully. “F-Feels—hah—good!”
His spit slides down your creamy slit slowly, meeting his gloved fingers, and the rest of it wetting the sheet below. He studies the way your pussy tenses, how it flutters like it needs something bigger—thicker.
“There it is again,” he whispers reverently. “You like that?” His eyes flick upwards, taking in your fucked-out expression. Eyes half-lidded, cheeks red, panting for air, your tongue peeking out from your pink parted lips.
His fingers fuck into you with slow precision, letting the obscene squelches take over and act as background noise to your inevitable unraveling.
“Now, just Imagine if I let my mouth take over.” His voice is pure filth now, drawn out and dark with desire. “I wouldn’t even stop to breathe, you know? I’d spit, lick, suck this pretty little clit until you came all over my face. Would you like that, sweetheart? You’d let me, wouldn’t you?”
You nod without much thought, hips bucking up again as you chase your high. The speed of his fingers slows down, allowing you some moments to breathe. But all of that is thrown out the window.
You should’ve expected it. He did ask. And you did nod.
But you didn’t think he’d actually—
“Ngh!”
A cry tears through your throat.
His lips making contact with your slippery cunt is what you register first. Then his tongue lapping up the slick, swirling around your quivering hole, then up to your puffy clit. His lips wrap around the bud—wasting no time in absolutely eating you the fuck out.
His nose is shoved against your skin, muffled groans mixing in with your whimpering sighs and gasps.
Your brain short-circuits, back arching completely off the exam table. The flick of his experienced tongue—both slow and indulgent—absolutely wrecks you. “Oh my god—” you gasp, voice cracking.
You can faintly make out the low muffle of his chuckle through your dazed mind.
His mouth alternates. Switching from a long, slippery stripe up your cunt to hungrily sucking on your clit like it’s his favorite snack. Wet, popping noises fill the room.
His moans are stifled, his so-called ‘professionalism’ wavering by the second and his hands—the ones that felt so precise and methodical just minutes ago—now dig into your thighs, forcing them open for his impatient mouth.
He works you with obscene devotion, admiring the squelch of his hot tongue against your soaked flesh.
“F-fuck, Doctor—please—” you whimper, hands fisting the sheet beneath you, head tossing back against the paper-covered cushion.
He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even slow down. He’s like a man possessed. His tongue curling and flicking, dragging over your clit, teasing your entrance again just to lap up the fresh slick you keep leaking for him.
“Fuck,” he groans into you, the sound so guttural and real it makes your toes curl. “You taste so fucking good—this pussy’s unreal.”
You cry out again as he sucks harshly, tongue pressing flat, lips tugging just right—and it absolutely shatters you.
Your orgasm hits hard. Harder than any you’ve experienced before. Either by your own doing, or from another man. Because this time—this time—you see stars.
Your ears ring with vibrations. Your vision whitens out, and for a second, you think you may have died from how fucking hard you just came.
You think you’ve stepped through the gates of heaven. Your body? Limp. Chest heaving up and down with breathless pants. You feel flushed and hot to the touch. It’s utterly violent.
Thighs instinctively clamping shut around his head like you’re trying to save yourself from something that’s already been done.
How cute, he thinks.
You sob through your unravelling, hips jerking against his face as he devours every second of your release. He doesn’t pull back, instead he rides it out with his mouth locked to your cunt, swallowing everything you give him like he’ll never get enough.
Finally, your spasms fade slowly. The ringing in your ears dulls, and you can make out the ceiling of the room—the antiseptic scent invading your nostrils again. Though this time, mixed with something much more salacious.
Your back collapses against the table. Blinking weakly, you barely manage to look down between your spread legs.
There—your doctor—tilts his head back. His beautiful face glistens. His lips are pink, shiny, and swollen. He smiles unapologetically.
Breathing out—shaky, satisfied, and completely drunk on you. His lashes flutter across his cheekbones as he exhales through his nose, like he just came without even being touched.
He licks his lips in a disgustingly pornographic way.
His voice, when it finally leaves his throat, is wrecked—raspy and hot, full of hunger not even close to being sated.
“So, I’ll see you next week for your fertility examination?”
a/n: hope u all enjoyed this <333. wish i could’ve made it longer but this whole fic took WAYYY too long for me to completely finish 😹😹 again, ty rem for helping me proofread & brainstorm. love you!!!
