︵ ೀ fluff. you call satoru by his last name in public and he is a bit dramatic about it
the staff meeting at jujutsu high was supposed to be the most boring hour of your week, the kind where yaga talks about statistics and everyone quietly checks how many minutes are left before they can go get lunch.
but you and satoru had gotten into a fight that morning, one of those stupid arguments that starts over something small and somehow spirals into “well maybe you just don’t think about anyone but yourself,” and neither of you had really resolved it before you both had to show up to work like functioning adults.
so when he strolled into the conference room fifteen minutes late, blindfold pushed up onto his head, grinning like the whole world owed him a good morning, you didn’t even glance up from your notebook.
“morning, morning, did everyone miss me?” he said, dropping into the seat next to yours like nothing at all had happened between the two of you a few hours earlier.
“gojo,” you said, without looking up, your voice perfectly even, like you were greeting a coworker you barely knew.
the entire room seemed to freeze for a second. not satoru. not babe, not the nickname you swore you’d never use in public but absolutely used constantly at home. just gojo, delivered with all the warmth of a weather report.
nanami’s eyebrows climbed so high they nearly disappeared into his hairline. shoko made a small choking sound and had to set her coffee cup down before she embarrassed herself further. even yaga, who had seen a thousand strange things happen in this school, paused his sentence about budget allocations to look between the two of you like he’d wandered into the middle of a drama he hadn’t signed up for.
satoru blinked, the smile faltering just slightly at the corners. “huh?”
you flipped a page in your notebook and underlined something that absolutely did not need underlining, just to have somewhere to put your hands.
“did you,” he started, sitting up straighter now, all his earlier ease draining out of him, “did you seriously just gojo me?”
“can we please get back to the agenda,” you said, addressing the room in general rather than him specifically.
nanami cleared his throat and tried to steer things back on track. “as i was saying, the eastern district has seen an uptick in curse activity over the past—”
“she gojo’d me,” satoru interrupted, loud enough that the whole table heard it, staring at you with the wounded expression of a man who had just watched his house burn down in front of him. “in front of everyone. she used my last name like i’m a substitute teacher.”
you still didn’t look at him. you clicked your pen closed, then open again, then closed, a habit you knew drove him up the wall, and said nothing at all.
“focus, gojo,” you said again, watching the way his whole soul seemed to leave his body when you said it a second time was a little more satisfying than you’d expected.
“okay. okay, everybody hold on,” satoru said, raising both hands like he was trying to talk down an actual hostage situation. “nobody move, nobody speak, something has gone horribly wrong here. she just used my government name. in public. on purpose.”
“that is your name,” nanami pointed out, deadpan, not even looking up from his own notes.
“not to her it isn’t! not in four years has she ever once called me gojo, and now suddenly, out of nowhere, in the middle of a staff meeting, she’s talking to me like i’m a stranger she met at the post office—” he turned to you again, voice climbing with real panic now. “okay, you know what, meeting’s over, everyone go home, thank you for coming, we’ll reschedule—”
“the meeting,” yaga said flatly, unimpressed, “is not over.”
“it is for me!” satoru stood so fast his chair scraped loudly against the floor, then leaned across the table toward you, blindfold slipping further down his forehead, genuine desperation creeping into his voice. “what did i do. just tell me what i did and i’ll fix it. is this about the mission partner thing? it’s the mission partner thing, isn’t it. i can undo it. i can un-fix the fixing. i can grovel right here in front of everyone if that’s what this requires—”
you finally looked up to deliver the final blow with the sweetest, most devastating calm you could manage:
“i’m not sure what you mean, gojo. we’re in the middle of a meeting.”
that was the moment the room completely lost it. shoko was laughing so hard into her coffee cup that she had to set it down entirely, wiping at her eyes. nanami pressed a hand over his face like he was praying for the strength to survive this job for one more day. even yaga, who never smiled during meetings on principle, was clearly biting back one now, badly.
“that’s it,” satoru said, dropping back into his chair. “fine. that’s fine. be like that. see if i care. i am literally the strongest sorcerer in the world and i am being disrespected in my own place of employment, in front of my own coworkers, by my own—” he lowered his voice for the last part, leaning toward you like it was a secret, “—girlfriend, who apparently doesn’t remember that we live together and that i know exactly what cereal she eats and exactly what she looks like without—”
“gojo,” nanami cut in, exhausted, “please let the meeting continue.”
“see! even he can feel that something is deeply wrong here! the temperature in this room actually dropped! shoko, did the temperature just drop or was that just me—”
you allowed yourself the smallest, most private smile, tucked safely behind the cover of your notebook, as the strongest sorcerer alive continued to unravel in real time over exactly one syllable of his own last name, in front of the entire senior staff of jujutsu high, on a random tuesday morning.
by the time you got home that evening, satoru had clearly spent the whole day rehearsing something, because the second you walked through the door he was already there, hovering, almost vibrating with nervous energy like a dog that knows it did something wrong but isn’t sure what.
“okay so,” he said, following you into the kitchen, “i’ve been thinking about this literally all day, and i want to formally apologize, on the record, for the mission partner thing, and also i want to say, for the record, that what you did today was actually kind of terrifying and i need you to never do it again.”
“do what,” you said, setting your bag down like you had no idea what he could possibly mean, even though you absolutely did.
“you know what,” he said, sliding an arm around your waist from behind before you could even take your jacket off, chin dropping onto your shoulder. “the gojo thing. please. i’m begging you. never again.”
“it’s your name,” you said, echoing nanami from earlier, and you felt him groan directly into your shoulder.
“it is not my name when you say it like that,” he mumbled. “when you say it like that it sounds like you’re breaking up with me in front of witnesses. i had to sit there for an entire meeting wondering if this was it, if this was the day my girlfriend decided she’d had enough of me and was breaking the news.”
you turned around in his arms, biting back a laugh, and he immediately seized the opportunity to rest his forehead against yours, eyes closed like he was bracing for more punishment.
“so you admit you deserved it,” you said.
“i admit nothing,” he said, “except that i am deeply, deeply sorry, and that i will never again swap your mission partner without telling you first, and that if you ever call me gojo again in public i will actually die.”
“say please.”
“please,” he said immediately, no hesitation at all, pulling you in tighter like he was worried you might change your mind and use his last name right there in the kitchen just to torture him further. “please, please, i’ll do anything, i’ll even do paperwork, just—just be normal about it. call me anything else. call me an idiot, call me insufferable, i don’t care, just not that.”
“fine,” you said, finally letting the smile show. “satoru.”
the relief on his face was almost embarrassing, the way his whole body seemed to unclench at once, like you’d just lifted some enormous curse off him.
“thank you,” he said, dramatic as ever, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then finally your mouth. “never again. i mean it. that was the scariest six words of my entire life and i’ve fought curses that wanted to eat my ass.”
“it was one word,” you pointed out.
“it felt like six,” he said, and pulled you into a hug so tight it nearly knocked the breath out of you, laughing into your hair, all traces of this morning’s fight forgiven, or at least thoroughly overridden by how badly he never wanted to hear his own last name from you again.
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sucking lane on the back of his car when there are no customers. he gathers your hair into his grasp to make you take him deeper and you feel the piercing on his tip twitching on the back of your throat. the thrusts of his hips were so weak and he wont stop running his mouth to hide the fact he's all sensitive and hes one more gag away from releasing inside your mouth send tweet
fratjo recording and blackmailing you (..◜ᴗ◝..)
request by: commenter
music is echoing through his apartment while you’re spread out on his bed, your hands trembling while you try to push him off of you, but he’s way too big.
satoru is repeatedly slapping your pussy and laughing, his eyes lighting up every time you whimper and flinch.
“stop, stop moving, be a good girl.”
laughing again as he steadies his phone and zooms in on your pussy and how wet your slit is, your hand trying to push the phone away, but he roughly pushes your hand away.
he steps in between your thighs all the way so that you can’t move your bottom half, still recording your pussy and you trembling when he does a very tiny touch on your soaking slit.
it’s a gamble when you come over to his place because he’s always so adamant on recording even when he tells you it’s just for him and he’s not going to show anyone, but you know guys like him, yet you keep coming over.
satoru doesn’t want you talking to anyone else or fucking someone else, so he tells you not to or the videos he took will be sent out.
“but why?”
confused and hurt on why he would do that, but satoru gives you a half-assed answer because he doesn’t even know for himself.
even after this threat, you’re laid back with him, while he laughs and teases you while he records all of it. panning the camera from your pussy to your face, laughing harder, and slapping your pussy when you cover your face with both hands.
“she's shy; don’t be shy. come on, show them that pretty face.”
popping his gum and tugging one hand away from your face, smiling wide at the tear streaks through the little bit of makeup you have on.
“here, hold my gum for me; open your mouth.”
you cover your eyes, still focused on the shaky camera, but you obey and open your mouth, and he spits his gum into your mouth, then moves down in between your thighs.
biting the soft flesh there making you clamp your thighs shut over his head. he drops his phone down, smacking one of your thighs and pushing them back open wide, gathering up spit in his mouth and spitting right on your core.
picking his phone up and laughing to himself before rubbing it all over your pussy and dipping two fingers inside of you, just the tips of them to tease you.
both of your hands are back over your face again, and your lower half is trembling.
he got everything he wanted to get, from your pretty pussy to your humiliated face, so he stops recording so he can do what he really wants.
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ಇ.word count: 5.5k ಇ.art by: @!narutoss.ramen on X
ಇ.pairing: Nerd!Satoru x Nerd!Reader
ಇ.content & warnings: ꒰non canon au ⋮⋮ crack! ⋮⋮ reader & satoru are heavily inexperienced ⋮⋮ Satoru being annoying otp ⋮⋮ bad sexting ⋮⋮ masturbation m & f ⋮⋮ reader humps a pillow ⋮⋮ oral. fem rec ⋮⋮ loss of virginity ⋮⋮ p in v ⋮⋮ multi-orgasms ⋮⋮ c-pied ⋮⋮ cum eating ⋮⋮ kissing꒱
It had been a week. One whole week since the two of you had officially, undeniably, ridiculously become a couple. Your boyfriend. You still were not entirely sure how that word had ended up belonging to Satoru Gojo.
Sometimes you would be doing something completely ordinary. Brushing your teeth. Standing in line at the grocery store. Trying to decide what to eat for dinner. And your brain would suddenly go. Oh. Satoru is your boyfriend. Then you would have to stand there for a moment. Staring blankly at whatever was in front of you while your face slowly heated.
It was stupid. You had had boyfriends before. Technically. Well— Maybe not. Okay. No. Not really. But Satoru was different. Satoru was the person who had somehow gone from a complete stranger you met at a Doraemon expo, to the man whose name sat permanently pinned at the top of your messages.
Your Satoru. Your boyfriend. And apparently, according to him you were his girlfriend. He had started using the word like he had been waiting his entire life for permission. "My girl." "My girlfriend." "Angel." "Pretty girl." "My favourite person."
The first time he called you my girl over text you stared at the message for a solid thirty seconds before throwing your phone onto your bed. Then you picked it right back up. Then you reread it. Then you buried your face in your pillow.
Satoru meanwhile had apparently been having an equally profound experience. Because somewhere between the movie theater and the following morning he realized something terrifying. He had a girlfriend. Satoru Gojo had a girlfriend. Not a temporary fling. Not someone he met at a party and forgot the next morning. Not a stranger whose number would eventually disappear somewhere in the endless scroll of his phone.
You.
You were the person he could text when he woke up. The person he could send stupid memes to. The person who actually laughed at his jokes. The person who would tolerate him rambling about something obscure for twenty minutes because you genuinely wanted to hear him talk. And perhaps most importantly you were the person who had seen him at his most embarrassingly enthusiastic and somehow still wanted him afterward.
That last part had been sitting in his head a lot. More than he would ever admit. Because the thing was. Satoru had never really thought he would have this. Not in the way he had always secretly wanted it. Someone who wanted to know him. Someone who wanted to stay. Someone who would curl against him and laugh until her stomach hurt because he said something stupid. Someone who would look at him like he was something precious.
It made him feel almost unbearably lucky. Which was annoying. Because Satoru Gojo did not like feeling unbearably anything. Except apparently unbearably lucky. And unbearably horny.
That was becoming a problem too. A very significant problem.
It had been a couple weeks since that wild night in the bathroom stall at the movies. Your first real date. The way his hands had found you there. Inside you. The heat and the rush and the desperate way you both clung to each other after. Confirming everything. He was your boyfriend now. You were his girl. Satoru Gojo was a lucky boy because he did not think he would ever have a girlfriend. Someone to spend time with. Someone to share his jokes with and hear your pretty laugh in return.
That night after he came to the realization that he actually had his hands on you. Inside you. It had all been so surreal. And now the two of you had been constantly talking over text. Even sexting. Yeah. Sexting.
The first time it happened started innocently enough. He had just gotten out of the shower.
You were lying in bed. Half watching something on your laptop when your phone buzzed. You picked it up. A message from Satoru.
toru 🩵
showered
A smiled appeared on your face immediately, a big one, as your fingers clicked his message open and began typing.
you 🩷
congratulations?
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again. Then—
toru 🩵
wow
toru 🩵
that's all i get
That made you giggle to yourself.
you 🩷
what do you want
His response took longer this time. Then your phone buzzed, a picture??? Why was he sending a picture right now, you took a sharp inhale.
And opened it. And immediately sat up. Satoru was standing in what looked like his dorm room, obviously. You've been there a couple of times to recognise the background. He was still wet. A towel hanging loosely around his neck. He wasn't smiling properly exactly. It was more of that lazy little half smirk he did when he knew precisely what he was doing. Your heart gave one stupid, traitorous little thump.
You stared. Then stared some more. Your nipples tightened under your shirt just from the sight of him like that. Fresh from the shower. Skin still warm and damp.
you 🩷
oh
His reply came instantly.
toru 🩵
oh?
You bit your lip, in anticipation
you 🩷
you look nice
toru 🩵
nice?
you 🩷
yes
toru 🩵
that's so romantic
You peered at your screen, then rolled your eyes.
you 🩷
shut up
toru 🩵
no no i'm listening
toru 🩵
tell me more about how nice i look
You could practically hear his voice. That amused teasing tone. Your pussy gave a slow warm throb as you typed.
you 🩷
your hair looks pretty
There was a pause. Longer this time. Then—
toru 🩵
pretty?
You sighed, then frowned.
you 🩷
yes
toru 🩵
you think i'm pretty?
Your cheeks warmed and there was heat pooling low in your belly now.
you 🩷
i didn't say that
toru 🩵
you literally did
you 🩷
i said your hair is pretty
toru 🩵
coward
You gasped... The audacity. No he did not.
you 🩷
excuse me?
toru 🩵
you heard me
You were smiling madly, not being able to help it anymore.
you 🩷
your hair is pretty
you 🩷
your face is pretty
you 🩷
happy now?
His answer took almost a full minute.
toru 🩵
very
Then another message.
toru 🩵
you should send me a picture too
You looked down at yourself. You were wearing an oversized shirt, it was nothing special. Nothing remotely seductive. Your hair was messy. You had not done anything to look pretty. But your body was already reacting. Skin tingling. Pussy getting slick just from talking to him.
you 🩷
i'm in bed
toru 🩵
i know
Your eyebrows lifted, a real psychic he is.
you 🩷
how?
toru 🩵
because you just told me
You laughed, and shook your head unbelievably.
you 🩷
idiot
toru 🩵
what are you wearing
Your smile faltered. Not because the question was shocking. It was just. Different. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard. Your nipples were hard now. Pressing against the soft fabric.
you 🩷
clothes
His response came immediately.
toru 🩵
wow
toru 🩵
incredibly specific
You pressed your lips together.
you 🩷
an oversized shirt
toru 🩵
whose?
You blinked.
you 🩷
mine
toru 🩵
boring 🙄
you 🩷
you're annoying
He didn't waste time sending the next message.
toru 🩵
take it off
Your stomach flipped, tf!? You stared at the words. A rush of shy heat flooded your face and between your legs.
you 🩷
...why?
The three dots appeared.
toru 🩵
curiosity
Another message.
toru 🩵
scientific research 😇
You laughed so suddenly you had to cover your mouth. Your clit throbbed and you wanted to touch it. You wanted his voice telling you to.
you 🩷
you're such a nerd
toru 🩵
says the girl who went to a fucking doraemon expo with me
you 🩷
i hate you
toru 🩵
no you don't
Your fingers went still. Because he was right. You did not. You really really didn't.
you 🩷
no
Then.
you 🩷
i don't
His response was almost immediate.
toru 🩵
yeah
toru 🩵
i know
You stared at the screen. And then your phone rang.
You nearly dropped it.
"Satoru?"
His voice came through warm and slightly amused.
"Hi."
"You called."
"I did."
"Why?"
"You were taking too long to answer."
You smiled despite yourself.
"To what?"
"Anything."
You rolled onto your stomach now.
"Satoru."
"Angel."
The nickname was softer over the phone. That was the problem. Everything sounded different when he said it aloud. You tucked your face into your pillow. Your pussy was wet now. Aching.
"What?"
"Are you still wearing the shirt?"
You made a tiny noise of disbelief.
"You're still on that?"
"I'm persistent."
"You're annoying." Yes he definitely was.
"You like me."
"I do." ... "fucker" - You muttered that under your breath.
The silence afterward was immediate. You could hear him breathe, it was soft and shallow, like he himself was trying hard to stay still. It made you close your eyes. You smiled.
"What's wrong?" Your voice came out a little shaky, you didn't mean for it to.
"Nothing." He said voice calm, almost assuring.
"You went quiet."
"I'm appreciating the fact that my girlfriend just admitted she likes me." Well that sounded a bit sarcastic.
"You already knew that." You retorted.
"I like hearing it."
Something in your chest softened. You turned onto your back. Your hand drifted down. Hovering shyly over your stomach.
"You're ridiculous." A small chuckle left your lips.
"Yeah."
His voice.. you can tell he was smiling. Then after a moment.
"Can I see you?"
Your heart jumped, you started to blink rapidly.
"uuuh r-right now?"
"Right now." He said straightforwardly.
"Satoru." You said, voice coming out an octave louder than necessary.
"What?"
"You've already seen me."
"I know."
"Today." You reminded.
"I know."
"Earlier." You re-affirmed.
"I know."
You could hear the grin in his voice.
"I want to see you right now, Angel."
That did something to you. Something so embarrassingly simple, had you smiling ear to ear at the ceiling. Your fingers slipped lower. Brushing over where your panties were soaked through.
"Okay." You sighed breathlessly.
There was a small pause. Then the call changed. The screen lit up, the emoticon to switch to video, you pressed it absentmindedly. And suddenly there he was. Satoru. His hair was still damp. His towel had fallen around his shoulders. He was lying back against his pillows, and his signature wire-rimmed glasses weren't on. He had one hand resting behind his head.
"Hi." He said playfully, his perfect teeth glaring at you.
You stared, eyes probably wide. He raised an eyebrow.
"Hi?"
"Yes. Hi." He tutted, then without giving you a second—
"You're staring."
"I'm not." You blinked your eyes off to the side.
"You are." He teased.
You groaned softly. "Your hair is still wet."
"That's what you noticed?" He huffed.
"Yes."
"Wow." Oh you didn't even notice the lack of his spectacles. That kinda broke his heart.
"Stop fishing for compliments." You said, eyes rolling.
"Tell me I'm pretty again."
You laughed, in disbelief.
"No."
"Please?" God... why did that sound so... ughhh.
"No." Your eyebrows pinched together.
"Angel."
Damn.
You covered your face. He laughed. Fuck. You loved his laugh. You loved how easy it was. How he never seemed embarrassed by it. Your fingers pressed lightly against your clit through the fabric.
"You're pretty." You muttered.
"What, what was that, hm?" Oh he was taunting you now.
"I said you're pretty." You said defeatedly.
"Louder."
"No."
"Come on."
"Satoru." That came out a little too whiny.
"Pretty please."
You groaned, again.
"You're pretty." You said honestly, voice loud enough for him.
He smiled and there it was. That look. The one that made you suddenly feel like you were the only person in the world.
"Thank you." That sounded so sweet, coming from him.
"You're welcome."
Then his eyes flicked downward.
"What are you wearing?"
You stared at him. He stared back. You narrowed your eyes. Your pussy clenched.
"You already know. Baka"
"I want to hear you say it."
"Ugh." You're weird."
"I'm your boyfriend."
"That doesn't explain anything."
"It explains everything."
You laughed again. Your fingers started moving in slow shy circles.
"An oversized shirt."
"Still?"
"Yes." Annoyance clear and present in your voice now.
"Nothing else?" He was prying.
You froze. Satoru's expression changed. Not dramatically. Just enough though. His smile softened into something more curious. His free hand shifted lower on screen.
"Angel?"
You swallowed. Your voice came out breathy. Shy but honest.
"You're being nosy."
"Very." At least he was self-aware.
"You can't see anything."
"I didn't ask to see anything."
"You're thinking about it." Oh he definitely was.
"Maybe." That confirmed it.
Your cheeks warmed. Your nipples were so hard they ached. Your pussy was soaking. You wanted to touch yourself properly. To him. To his voice.
"Oh." He said softly.
"What?"
"You're flustered."
"I'm not." You tried to deny, to play it somewhat cool.
"You are." This asshole.
"Stop looking at me."
"Never." omg.. why was he like this?!
You hid your face. But you kept your fingers moving. Slow and awkward. Horny and unsure, no you were sure, so sure actually.
"You're so annoying."
"You're cute."
That shut you up, and Satoru laughed quietly.
"See?" His voice teased.
"See what?"
"I can make you speechless."
"Don't get excited."
"Too late."
You rolled your eyes. But you were smiling. Most times the two of you stayed like that. Talking. Teasing. Learning. There was no rush. No script. Just two people who were still figuring out how to be together. Shy in so many ways even after that bathroom stall. Still exploring every new feeling.
Sometimes the conversation drifted toward things neither of you had the courage to say directly. Questions. Curiosity. Little admissions.
Satoru'd asked what you thought about him. You told him he was irritating. He asked what else. You said he was kind. He went quiet. You asked why. He said he was not used to people saying that. You told him he should get used to it. Then he smiled.
And suddenly you understood something. The flirting was easy. The teasing was easy. But underneath it there was something softer. Something neither of you knew quite how to handle yet. Something that made every new step feel bigger than it should.
But right now your fingers kept rubbing. Little whimpers slipping past your lips, trying to be quiet but he was picking up on every stray sound. He could tell and maybe that excited you.
"Angel. Are you... touching yourself?" His voice dropped. Unfiltered.. teasing and horny, you could hear it.
You bit your lip shyly. Fuck. You were caught.. But you nodded. You nodded anyway because you couldn't keep anything from him even if you wanted to.
"Yeah. A little." Your voice came out strained. There was no going back now.
"Fuck. Don't hide it." He breathed. "Let me see you. Please."
Your heart pounded. But you switched cameras. The screen showed where your t-shirt had ridden up your tummy, and your other hand clearly shoved into the waistband of your panties. His eyes darkened when he saw it.
"You're so pretty like this." He murmured. "You're ah- um touching yourself..?" He sounded so shy and wrecked, asking a dumb question, the answer was obvious enough at this point.
It still made you whimper. Fingers slipping lower under your panties. Sliding through your wet folds.
"Yes. Satoru." Affirmations was definitely his kink.
Your breathless purr of his name, made him groan.. he was coming undone quick. His camera flipped down, now too. His sweats and boxers shoved down mid thigh, cock out and visibly hard. Flushed and pretty. Long and leaking precum at the tip. His slender hand wrapped around it. Stroking slow. All for you to see and your eyes lingered, staring intently.
"Look at what you do to me." He said. Voice rough. "So hard for you angel."
You rubbed your clit faster. Watching him. The way his hand moved. The slick sounds. His moans of your name.
"Satoru..." You gasped. Fingers circling. Wet noises filling the call on both ends.
He stroked harder. Thumb spreading precum over the tip and down his length. "Fuck. Your sounds. S'messy Angel. Let me hear your pretty cunt."
You moaned. Shy but needy. Rubbing quicker, building fast. His hips bucked. Hand flying.
"Angel. M'gonna cum." He panted. Moaning your name loud, then in the next second thick white cum streaked across his chest. Over his fingers. So much. So pretty.
You followed. Messy on your fingers. Clenching and whimpering out his name, desperately.
He caught his breath. Eyes hungry. "Can i see.. Angel.. can I see your fingers? show them to me please.." Fuck... he was begging so nicely, it did something to you.
Shy but obediently you held them up. Shiny, your arousal thick and sappy stringed on your fingers, webbing in the light.
"Good girl... fuck. Put them in your mouth.. haa-ah taste yourself f'me Angel."
You slipped them into your mouth, with a moan, Sucking softly as he wiped his cum off his chest. Licking a bit from his fingers, in sync with you.
The two of you stayed on the call. Breathing softly together. Smiling shyly, left over horniness fading way now. Both connected and sated.
Eventually Satoru's eyes left your pretty face for a second and glanced at the clock in the little upper left corner on his phone.
"It's late." He said in realization.
"It is." You knew it was by now.
"You should sleep." Voice tender-soft.
"You first." You murmured back.
"I'm not tired."
"Neither am I." He sounded believable but you were sure.
"You are."
"I'm not." He was going to play this game, but you weren't gonna let him win this.
"You've yawned three times."
That made him grin, "You're counting?"
"Obviously."
He smiled.
"Stay on the phone, with me Angel." Voice low and lazy.
You blinked.
"While we sleep?"
"Yeah."
Your heart squeezed.
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay."
With that he settled deeper into his pillows. You did the same and for a while neither of you said anything. You could hear his breathing. He could hear yours.
And eventually...quietly.
"Hey angel?"
"Yeah?" Your voice came out a little drowsy.
"I'm really glad you're my girlfriend."
You smiled into the darkness.
"Me too."
A pause. Then-
"Also."
"What?"
"Your shirt is still bothering me."
You burst out laughing.
"Satoru!"
He laughed too.
And somewhere between the teasing and the laughter the call stayed connected. The two of you fell asleep like that. Not knowing exactly where this was going. Not knowing how much you would learn about each other. Not knowing how many more firsts were waiting.
Just knowing that somehow. Against all odds. Satoru Gojo had a girlfriend. And you had a boyfriend. And he was lying in bed somewhere smiling at the sound of your sleepy breathing.
Thinking probably for the hundredth time that week. Holy shit. She's really mine.
And maybe just maybe you were thinking the same thing.
Because tomorrow he would text you again. He would send something ridiculous. You would pretend to be annoyed and he'd flirt. You would flirt back. And eventually one of you would say something that made the other flustered.
And you would keep discovering each other. Slowly, carefully, and with hunger. One little secret at a time.
This time you're at his dorm room on campus.
And it starts with a pillow.
Well— you, and a pillow, and a very stupid pair of thigh-high socks that Satoru swore would be the death of him when you slid into his dorm room wearing them and nothing else but one of his oversized hoodies and a shy little smirk.
He gawked.
You straddled his pillow without a word, right in the middle of his bed, and started grinding. Soft. Slow. Just for yourself. His jaw went slack. His hands froze mid-text. And you were so casual about it, like you didn’t even notice the way he was staring at you like you’d hung the moon with your pussy.
“Practicing,” you’d murmured, shrugging cutely.
“For what?” he asked, voice wrecked.
Your smile was pure trouble. “Riding.”
Satoru dropped his phone. Physically. Onto the floor.
You giggled. "I wanted to see if I could get off just humping something."
He made a sound like he'd been punched.
So now here you are— on your hands and knees, still wearing his hoodie and those sinful socks, pussy flushed and puffy from humping his favorite dorm pillow, hips twitching like you're almost there. You don't even realize you're whimpering until his hands slide around your hips, and he speaks, low and starving, right behind you.
“Angel…”
You look back over your shoulder.
Satoru is kneeling behind you, shirtless, eyes dark with hunger. He brushes your ass with his palm. Then slips his hand between your thighs and cups your pussy over the pillow. Soaked-sticky and messy.
“You’re so wet,” he groans. “You were gonna cum on a pillow and not even let me watch?”
“I was...testing” you pant, wearily.
He flips you like a doll.
Suddenly you’re flat on your back, head on the sheets, thighs trembling open and hoodie bunched around your waist. The pillow lies forgotten beside you, damp with slick. He looms over you, hair falling into his eyes, lips parted and pink.
“You wanna ride my face, Angel?” he asks, voice hoarse.
Your whole body shivers.
“…Can I?”
He laughs soft and stunned, worshipful almost, and leans down to kiss you like you’re the most delicious thing in the world.
“Fuck yes, you can. Sit on my face. Suffocate me. Make me drown in it.”
He lays back against the pillows, adjusting under you with arms out like a throne. His glasses are already tossed to the side, and he’s licking his lips like he can already taste you. You’re climbing over him, thighs shaking, when he grabs your hips and drags you up.
“Right here,” he whispers, eyes locked on your glistening cunt above him. “Right here, baby. Let me feel the weight of it.”
You lower slowly, knees braced, hands pressed into the wall behind his headboard. You hover above his mouth, panting and then, gently, you sank down.
His tongue meets your folds like he’s starving.
You wail.
Your pussy clenches instantly, overwhelmed by the first hot drag of his tongue from your entrance to your clit. Satoru groans, loud, grabs your thighs like he needs more, and pulls you down until you’re seated fully on his mouth.
“Satoru!” you cry out, rocking without meaning to.
His tongue slides in now, licking into your dripping pussy like he’s mapping it. He moans like it tastes like heaven, like it’s a privilege just to be under you. Your thighs squeeze around his head. Your hips roll. Your clit finds his nose. And you grind.
He’s letting you.
Letting you fuck his mouth like you need it to breathe.
“Don’t stop,” you whimper. “Don’t stop, I’m— Satoru, I’m gonna cum, I’m so close—”
He hums against your clit and the vibration breaks you.
You cum on his tongue with a scream, body jerking, hips grinding down in helpless little circles. He grabs your thighs, keeps you there, mouth open, licking, moaning, slurping like he doesn’t care that you’re sobbing above him.
You collapse forward, hips still twitching, body limp, cheek against his bare chest.
He gasps when you move off him, his face soaked, chin dripping with your slick.
“…You taste like candy,” he whispers, starry-eyed.
You’re panting, half-laughing. “That was insane.”
“I think I’m addicted to your pussy.”
You slap his chest, weakly.
He grins, wild and happy, then he murmurs, "You've got the prettiest pussy I've ever seen Angel, We need to do this again.. maybe ah-hundred times before we," His voice drops as he leans in and whispers into your ear teasingly, "fuck huh?"
Now you’ve been thinking about it all day.
All week, really.
Every time your thighs press together too tightly in class, every time you catch Satoru’s glazed-over stare sliding to your chest or how he bites his lip when you fidget in your seat—you think about riding him.
You’ve made out on his futon. You’ve touched. Explored. Cum multiple times on his fingers while crying into his neck. You’ve memorized the way he moans when you stroke him, how his cock twitches helplessly when you kiss the head and whisper how much you want to take it inside.
So now… it’s time.
You sit on his lap in his tiny, warm dorm room, legs bare, wearing nothing but one of his hoodies and knee socks, straddling him while his hands hover at your waist like he’s too scared to grip you. Your panties are already shoved to the side. His sweats are pushed down, and his cock's hard. Flushed, drooling against his belly, it twitches between your folds like it’s waiting for permission.
You’re both shaking.
“You don’t have to,” he whispers. “Not tonight. Only if you really want—”
“I need to,” you breathe.
You lean close, your nose brushing his, eyes wide and nervous but burning.
“I want to ride you, Satoru.”
He chokes on air.
“Oh my god.”
Your hand wraps around the base of his cock, hot and slick from his own arousal, and you guide him up, between your slick folds, over your clit. You both shudder. You roll your hips, let him feel the mess he’s made of you. His eyes are already fluttering back.
“You’re so wet,” he whispers. “You’re gonna take me?”
You nod. “Just… let me go slow.”
You lift your hips, line him up with your tight little entrance, and take a deep breath.
“Okay. I’m ready.”
He holds your waist, his grip tightening.
The tip presses in.
And holy fuck.
You’re stretching already, your walls squeezing down on him like you’re trying to keep him inside before he’s even all the way in. Your jaw falls open. He moans so loud into your shoulder you nearly lose balance.
“Oh ...oh fuck angel—angel, you’re so tight—fuck, I can’t—”
You both gasp, frozen, as you sink down another inch. It’s like a punch to your stomach and your cunt at the same time—hot, overwhelming, raw and perfect. Your thighs tremble. Your nails dig into his shoulders.
“I can feel everything,” you sob. “You’re so big, Satoru, you’re splitting me open.”
He’s crying. A little. From how tight you are. From how warm. From the way your pussy clenches around him like you love him already and he hasn’t even bottomed out yet.
“Tell me when to stop,” he pants. “Tell me if I hurt you.”
“You’re not,” you gasp. “Don’t stop—don’t stop. I need you.”
You sink lower. Lower. Inch by inch, your walls stretch around him, pulsing with slick heat.
Then— you bottom out.
And it feels like your whole body is going to break open from the pressure, from how full you are.
You bury your face in his shoulder. “I’m full. I’m so fucking full, I can feel you in my stomach—”
His hips twitch and he sobs again.
“I’m inside,” he whispers. “You’re letting me in. You’re my first—”
You press your lips to his ear. “You’re my first, too.”
And then— you rock.
Gently. Testing how much you can move.
And his hands slam down on your hips like he can’t take it. His cock twitches inside you, and your walls clench around him in response.
You moan.
He moans louder.
Then you start riding him, slow and messy. Tight little bounces, up n down. Just enough to feel the stretch, the slide, the overwhelming wet heat of your cunt clinging to him like your body doesn’t want to let go. It’s all instinct and desperation. The sounds of skin against skin, of slick, needy friction echoing in the tiny dorm room.
Your thighs are shaking. His hands won’t stop gripping, guiding, worshiping.
“Fuck, angel— fuck, you’re riding me—”
You cry out. “You’re so deep— I-I can’t—I feel you in my chest—”
He bucks into you by accident and you scream, throwing your head back.
“Did I hurt you?!”
“N-no—again, do that again—”
He does. And you swear you go cross-eyed.
The rhythm is clumsy. Awkward. Your knees are slipping and his hips stutter, but you don’t care. You don’t care about perfect. You care about how he moans your name like a prayer. How your pussy makes that wet little schlk sound every time you take him down to the base.
“I’m gonna cum,” he gasps. “I’m gonna—fuck, I can’t hold it—”
You grab his cheeks, force his eyes to meet yours.
“Cum in me,” you whisper. “Please. Make a mess inside me.”
His cock throbs violently.
“Angel—fuck—I love you—”
He explodes.
It’s hot. You feel it fill you— pulse after desperate pulse. Sticky, thick, messy. It overflows instantly, leaking between your thighs and down his cock while you grind and cry out again, cumming right after him. You shake through it— sobbing, clenching, writhing in his lap like your body doesn’t know how to survive this much fullness.
You collapse against his chest.
His hands cradle you.
He’s panting. Moaning your name over and over.
“I’ve never felt anything so good,” he whispers.
You kiss him then, slow and shaky-sweet.
“Neither have I.”
And then you both fall backward onto the bed, tangled, ruined, still joined at the hips.
You stay that way for a long, long time.
You’re still straddling him.
Bare thighs trembling. Pussy aching. His cock softening slowly inside you, twitching with little aftershocks, buried deep in your cunt and leaking. You can feel it. His cum—so much of it— pooling hot and sticky inside your body. Seeping out in slow, obscene dribbles every time you shift or twitch.
It’s messy. You’re flushed and overwhelmed, shivering through the afterglow and clinging to his hoodie like a lifeline.
And Satoru Gojo is staring between your legs like he’s entranced.
You glance down. Follow his line of sight.
There’s a little stream of milky white trickling from where he’s still inside you, slipping down between your folds and soaking into the mess of his hoodie bunched beneath your ass. You clench involuntarily and more leaks out— sticky-warm and filthy.
Satoru groans.
“I can see it.” His voice is wrecked. “It’s—fuck, it’s dripping out of you. That’s my cum. Inside you.”
You moan softly, hips rocking like you’re chasing the stretch again.
His hands grip your waist.
“I wanna clean you up,” he whispers, breath hot against your cheek.
You blink, dazed. “I can just— get a towel, or—”
“No. Not like that.”
You look down. He’s already pulling out—slowly— and you both gasp as his softening cock slips free of your pussy, followed immediately by a thick, wet gush of cum that drips from your folds in slow, shiny strands.
Satoru watches it fall.
Then he drops to his knees.
Right between your thighs.
“Satoru— what are you—”
“I need to,” he says, voice low, eyes blown wide and desperate. “Please. Let me clean it with my mouth.”
You can’t even think. Not with the way he’s looking at you like you’re something divine, something sweet and holy and soaked in his mess. His hands part your trembling thighs and he moans at the sight of your sticky, cum-dripping pussy glistening in the soft dorm light.
“Angel,” he whispers, reverent. “You’re ruined. I made such a mess.”
You reach down, brush his hair back. “Then clean it up.”
He dives in.
His tongue slides through your folds— warm, flat, soaking up the slick with long, filthy licks. You scream, thighs snapping around his head, because you’re so sensitive, still throbbing from your orgasm, and now his tongue is licking up his own cum from your pussy like he’s starving.
You squirm. Whimper. Try to push him back. “S-Satoru—s'too much—!”
He groans into your cunt, arms wrapping around your hips, holding you down like he’s not letting go until you’re clean.
“Can taste you,” he pants between licks. “You and me, mixed together—fuck, it’s so sweet—”
You throw your head back, moaning like a girl gone dumb.
His mouth is everywhere— lapping up the mess he made, licking into your hole, nosing against your clit until you’re gasping through gritted teeth, thighs shaking violently.
You’ve never felt anything like it.
It’s so dirty. So loving.
So deeply, terrifyingly intimate.
“Satoru—please—”
“Cum again,” he begs. “One more. Let me taste it fresh.”
And you do.
You cum with a sob, hips jerking, pussy leaking fresh slick into his mouth. He groans, drinks it, licks until you’re sobbing and twitching and clinging to his hair like you don’t know who you are anymore.
When he finally pulls back, his is face wet, chin shining, cheeks pink and you’re spread wide, limp, flushed from your ears to your tits and totally wrecked.
He climbs over you, kisses your forehead, then your lips, slowly, letting you taste yourself, his cum, the sweat and breathlessness of your shared first time.
“You’re my favourite thing,” he whispers.
You start crying.
He cradles you, strokes your hair, tucks you against his chest and wraps a blanket over your trembling body.
“I want you again,” you whisper.
He kisses your hair.
“I’m yours now,” he says. “So anytime you want me… I’m yours.
Lane the type of bf who would hold mc's boob/s for "emotional support".
The concept of Lane calming tf down once he has a tit in hand. Like when he was whining about mc treating his wounds after bb punched him, he's such a baby but offer him the reprieve of titty and he's powering through like a champ.
That's why he loves being the big spoon, so he can snake a hand into mc's tank and fall asleep with her boob nestled against his palm.
Lane who malfunctions whenever the mc flashes him, smug remarks dying on the tip of his tongue at the first sight of areola. He always says the trick won't work the next time, insisting the tactic has lost its charm after the first dozen times the mc has weaponised her bosom in an argument, but he falls victim to it in the very next breath.
Lane who refers to mc's boobs as 'the twins', randomly texting her about their well being. Lane who comes home after a day from hell and buries his face in mc's cleavage, insisting the twins have healing properties. Lane who jokes about the twins missing him and how they'll need to split custody if mc breaks up with him. Also, Lane telling mc to think about the twins when she's angry and ignoring him.
If they were to have kids, every single time mc is breast feeding, Lane would eagerly ask if its his turn next.
What can I say, the man loves breasts. Can't blame him, they're great.
teasing your loser boyfriend until he cums in his pants is probably your second favorite hobby.
the first?
well, unfortunately that’s being teased by your loser boyfriend.
“come on, baby,” gojo purred, thumb deliberately ghosting right over your sensitive clit instead of on it beneath your skirt. “thought you said you could take it.”
“shut the fuck up,” you hissed, nails digging into his pale forearm as your brain belatedly recognized the familiar click! of the remote hidden in his pocket, the vibrator pulsing inside you kicking up another notch.
was this his payback for making him moan out loud in the middle of geto’s quiet birthday dinner? or for that one time you jerked him off in a bathroom stall and made him walk around stores for an hour with cum in his boxers?
“m’so jealous of that toy right now,” he murmured in your ear, his thigh pressed hard against yours in the restaurant booth as you eyed the bulge outlined in his jeans. he just had to be that couple every time you went out to eat, occupying every atom of your personal space as he gave you that pretty pout of his. “bet you’re squeezing it real tight.”
“i hate you,” you half-whispered, blood rushing to your face as you bit your bottom lip to hide a moan. glancing around anxiously to make sure no one had noticed what a mess he was making of you.
“you adore me.”
and god, when he grinned at you like that, you couldn’t help how close you were, thighs squeezing together as fire roared through your veins, the pressure building and building-
“too bad you’ll have to wait until till we get home to prove it,” he smirked, winking at you as the toy inside you stopped.
“i’m breaking up with you,” you hissed back, flustered and frustrated as you shamelessly squirmed in the seat, chasing friction as the heat in your core started to dissipate.
“good luck,” gojo chuckled. “you’re stuck with me.”
and apparently with a vibrator in you for the rest of your meal.
a/n: some more lane hcs cus i feel like i didn’t add to many silly ones last time <3!
lane fostman who when watching a movie side eyes you whenever a shirtless guy is on the screen.
lane fostman who isn’t the brat tamer he’s the brat being tamed.
lane fostman who’s into you stepping on his crotch whenever he misbehaves
lane fostman who gets all the drama from his gossiping older female neighbors.
lane fostman who makes you sit on his lap before his game starts since you’re his “lucky charm”.
lane fostman who puts you as playstation 3 home screen after you guys make it official.
lane fostman who has dirty dreams about you and then proceeds to tell you about them in detail.
lane fostman who gets smacked by you and proceeds to look at you while smirking waiting for more.
lane fostman who puts a finger over your mouth while you’re yelling at him to shush you which only pisses you off even more.
lane fostman who hates twilight and who is forced to go watch new moon with you and amelia. (he’s team jacob)
lane fostman who isn’t the most hygienic guy around but def has a strict routine for cleaning his piercings. (he’ll ask you to help clean his dick piercing)
lane fostman who complains about having to hold your purse in public but still holds it anyway.
lane fostman who’s super updated on everything pop culture and found kanye interrupting taylor hilarious.
lane fostman who’s disgusting enough to definitely put you in a dutch oven.
a/n : is it crazy to say i feel like BB would be team jacob 2 😭😭??! also for anyone who doesn’t know what a dutch oven is it’s basically where you trap someone under a blanket then fart inside xD!
how do we feel about lane as our divorced baby daddy 👀…
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Gojo has always been respectful of your boundaries when it comes to marriage—until now.
He knows how much your education means to you, how determined you are to finish school before even thinking about walking down the aisle, and he’s never once pushed. Not seriously, at least.
But the moment you casually introduce him as your husband to your professor after unexpectedly running into them at a quiet restaurant, everything changes.
The word hangs in the air longer than you expect. Gojo freezes for half a second before slowly turning to look at you, surprise melting into something dangerously pleased.
He takes no time to bring it up to you later; “Husband, huh?,” a crooked smirk tugging at his lips. He laces his fingers with yours and gives your hand an excited squeeze, like he’s just been handed a prize. “I like the sound of that.”
“Toru, don’t make a big deal out of it,” you mutter, heat creeping up your neck as you avoid his gaze. “It just… felt natural.”
His grin only widens, eyes softening despite the teasing glint still there. “Yeah?” he murmurs, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Then maybe it’s not as far away as you think.”
———-
The next morning, you wake up with a weight draped over you.
An arm is slung around your waist, long legs tangled with yours, and warm breath ghosts against the back of your neck. Gojo hums contentedly in his sleep, pulling you closer the moment you shift even an inch.
“Toru,” you whisper, trying to wiggle free. “I need to get up.”
“Nope,” he mumbles, voice rough with sleep. His grip tightens. “My wife doesn’t have class today.”
You freeze. Slowly, you turn your head. “Your what?”
One blue eye peeks open, lazy and mischievous. “Oops. Slipped out.”
You smack his arm lightly, cheeks burning. “You’re having way too much fun with this.”
“Just practicing, you know.” He grabs onto you, tugging you back into his embrace.
He smiles into your hair, already waiting for the future where “practice” turns into a promise.
I liked this topic of the blond ex-boyfriend, so what would happen if a regular customer (who is blond, obviously🥰) went every night just to flirt with MC in front of Lane?
good question🤔💖
at first Lane would find it funny, like who tf is this guy? he probably wouldnt intervene much during the first two days because hes analyzing.
but then hed realize this dude is clearly coming in just to talk to MC, and thats when Lane starts getting progressively more annoyed. but because hes Lane, he cant just admit hes jealous. so instead hell trashtalk this guy about literally anything:
"bro, im trying to do my fucking job and we've got Justin Timberlake over there talking the gay language."
Lane sees another man openly doing exactly what he himself does, and suddenly he doesnt find it charming anymore because he starts getting insecure.
"is blond just her type then? but i have fucking BLACK hair…😔"
hed probably get so unpleasant and obnoxious that the guy would eventually stop coming. xD
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“I’m gonna hold your cock as I say this” then going into the most intense depth praise (or degradation) that has his hips rocking into your hand to completion
