♡ nerd!gojo ditches his textbooks and studies your anatomy instead!
the human body was a complex structure; simple pictures and models did not do it justice. the thorough man that satoru was, a real body was needed for his studying. you couldn't help but notice him struggling with the outdated textbooks.
the way he tried to visualize the body in his head, squinting even with his glasses on. he was smart, extremely so; however, there was only so much a textbook could show him.
when offered the opportunity to study a real human body to work with, satoru took the opportunity immediately. for the sake of his grade, of course. "breathe in," he instructed, watching how the chest moved up and down, feeling the muscles under.
"what's that one called?" you asked, liking the way his voice stayed so calm. at first, you were getting needy with his touching, but he was so locked in, he wasn't even fazed by touching your bare skin.
"breathe out." the command was flat, detached. completely ignoring your question, deep in thought.
his thumb pressed below your sternum, tracing the rigid line of your xiphoid process. the cold tip of a dry-erase marker tickled your skin as he drew a small, precise 'x'. "interesting. the textbooks really don't capture the... give."
he leaned closer, white hair falling into his eyes as he peered at the junction of your thigh and pelvis. "inguinal ligament," he muttered, drawing a careful line. his finger followed the mark, pressing down with careful, clinical pressure. "can you adduct? bring your leg in. good."
a frustrated heat simmered beneath your skin, embracing his touch. you obeyed, moving your leg, but a small, traitorous moan escaped your throat. satoru paused. his head tilted.
the marker hovered above your pubis. for a long moment, he just watched the slight flutter of your lower abdomen. a slow, knowing smirk added to his look of concentration.
"huh," he breathed, the sound suddenly warm against your navel. "vasocongestion. the textbook says that. but the pulse here..." he dropped the marker. it rolled off the bed with a soft clatter. his fingertips caress softly. "the rate is accelerated. significantly." two fingers slid through your folds. the wetness accompanying your breath.
"fascinating," he murmured, but his voice had dropped, gone rough at the edges. he watched his own fingers as they delved inside of you. "the engorgement is... pronounced. and this texture." a low, playful chuckle vibrated against your hip as he curled his long fingers, finding a spot that made your back arch off the bed. he knew you body like the back of his hand.
"models are shit. they don't get this hot. or this tight." satoru’s fingers pulled out slowly, admiring the glistening of his fingers. he brought them to his lips, his blue eyes locked on yours as he tasted. a hum of approval rumbled in his chest, his pink tongue swirling around the digits obscenely. "superior to any diagram."
in one rough, impatient motion, he hooked his hands under your knees and yanked you to the edge of the bed, your shoulders pressing into the mattress. he sank to his knees on the floor, his frame between your thighs.
"let's study the mucosal response."
his tongue was not as clinical as his fingers or that dreaded marker. it was broad, flat, and deliciously thorough. he licked a long, slow stripe from your ass to your clit. "ah, yes," he growled against your flesh, the words vibrating against your core.
"the bartholin's glands are definitely functional. listen to that." he chuckled, filthy sounds of his mouth on you. he placed wet, open-mouthed kisses on your inner thighs, each one marked with a faint, possessive suck.
you were begging, clutching at his white hair, but he just pinned your hips down with one heavy arm. "quiet. i'm concentrating. the clitoral erectile tissue exhibits... remarkable turgidity." he punctuated the last word with a sharp suction on your clit that made you scream, your thighs clamping around his head.
big words you didn't bother understanding, nor did you want to, focused on what his mouth was doing between your thighs, not saying. he drove you over the edge with brutal efficiency, his tongue working you through the convulsions until you were shoving weakly at his shoulders.
as you came down, shuddering, he rose, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. his glasses were crooked against his face and foggy. the dry-erase lines were smeared, a blur of blue on your skin.
he unbuckled his pants, freeing his cock, already thick and heavy against his stomach. you didn't expect him to go this long; you hoped he would sooner, but you couldn't complain. your hole was clenching at nothing, body anticipating him.
"the pelvis is designed to accommodate," he said, his voice a rough scrape as he lined himself up, the broad head nudging through your soaked, sensitive flesh. "but theory and practice..." he shoved in, a single, deep, complete thrust that stole the air from your lungs.
he stayed there, buried to the hilt, both of you panting. he looked down where you were joined, watching himself disappear into you. "the way the vaginal walls dilate and conform...fuck."
he began to move, a slow, deep, rolling grind that felt less like fucking and more like he was trying to imprint himself inside you. "need to feel the a-anterior fornix. here." he angled up, hitting a spot so deep and sudden your vision went white
“that’s not even on y-your test.”
"hm, you never know," he hissed, watching your face contort. "there. that's the spot. you feel that? t-that's the real shit." his thrusts became harder, less measured, the bed frame slamming against the wall in a ragged rhythm.
"gonna see how much this cavity can take. gonna study the-ah, fuck- the intra-abdominal pressure."
he fucked you like he was trying to pass an exam, perfect and precise. one hand snaked between you, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing tight, frantic circles in time with his thrusts. "come on. one more. for the data. i need to observe the orgasmic contraction sequence."
you came with a shattered cry, your body clamping down on his in rhythmic pulses. he groaned, a raw, unfiltered sound, and followed you, his own release pumping hot and deep as he muttered into the sweat-damp skin of your neck, "perfect. textbook perfect."
that week, satoru passed his final with flying colors. it wasn't even his required class, one he didn't mean to put much effort into. however, seeing how his new "study habits" benefited him so much, he just might start using them in other subjects.
he was more interested in the body than he thought, specifically yours!
♡ gojopied ©2026 do not copy, edit, plagiarize, put into AI, repost, or translate any of my work.
